Request: Hello! Could you please write a fic with Namo? Something sweet and fluffy, maybe reader drags him from work to a date night, with a romantic dinner and cuddles afterwards? Our lovely judge needs some love and affection. Thank you and have a beautiful day!
A/N: Thank you the request so I can write more Námo content, anon!
Warnings: none, fluff
Words: 1.5k
Synopsis: You convinced your overworking husband to let go for one evening and relax.
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You found yourself standing in the grand chamber where he often spent long hours contemplating and recording the fates of the dead. The space was vast and imposing, its stone walls carved with intricate patterns that glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. There, Námo sat at a large stone table, his dark hair flowing over his shoulders as he pored over yet another decision. His piercing green eyes were fixed on a glowing scroll before him, his sharp features illuminated by its soft light. He looked every bit the formidable Judge of the Dead, but to you, he was simply Námo—the one who had captured your heart.
“You’re working late again,” you said softly, breaking the heavy silence.
Námo’s head lifted slightly, his eyes meeting yours. He did not sigh, nor did he frown, but you could see the faintest flicker of weariness in his gaze. “There is much to be done,” he replied in his deep, measured voice. “It cannot wait.”
You stepped closer, the hem of your robes brushing against the smooth stone floor. “It can wait for one evening,” you insisted gently, placing a hand on the edge of the table. “You’ve been at this for days without pause. You need a break.”
Elegantly, he raised a brow, his lips pressing into a thin line. “The souls entrusted to me do not rest, nor do they delay in arriving. My duty is to—”
“Your duty,” you interrupted, though your tone was soft and teasing, “will be there tomorrow. Tonight, however, your duty is to me.”
His expression shifted slightly, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” you said firmly, reaching out to grasp his shoulders and massage his tense muscles. You felt him stiffened slightly before relaxing under your touch as your fingers worked. “You work harder than anyone I know, but even the Judge of the Dead deserves an evening to himself now and then. Let me take care of you for a change.”
“I have responsibilities—”
“And I have plans,” you interrupted with a firm tone yet affectionate. “Plans that involve you, my dear husband, stepping away from all of this,”—you gestured at the desk piled high with documents—“and spending an evening with me.”
There was the barest hint of a smile threatening to break through his stoicism. “And what, may I ask, do these plans entail?”
You leaned down, placing your chin on his shoulders, and slid your hands down his arms. “Dinner,” you said softly, “a proper one. Followed by a quiet night together. No scrolls. No souls. Just us.”
For a moment, he said nothing, simply studying you with those piercing eyes of his. You could see the conflict there, the instinct to protest warring with the desire to give in to your request. Finally, he sighed—a sound that was more resigned than exasperated. “You’re persuasive.”
You grinned, straightening and holding out your hand to him. “Only because I love you. Now, come on. Don’t make me drag you out of this chair.”
With a quiet chuckle, Námo took your hand and allowed you to pull him to his feet. His tall, imposing frame towered over you, but the way he gazed at you—gentle, almost reverent—made you feel as though you held all the power in the world.
The dining room you had prepared was far removed from the austere grandeur of Mandos. It was warm and inviting, lit by the gentle glow of candles placed in elegant holders. A table stood in the centre of the room, adorned with a simple yet charming arrangement of flowers and a delicious spread of food that you had painstakingly prepared. The scents of roasted vegetables, freshly baked bread, and spiced wine filled the air, creating an atmosphere of comfort and intimacy.
Námo followed you into the room, his sharp features softening as he took in the sight. “You did all this for me?” he asked quietly with a touched of genuine surprise.
“Of course,” you replied, smiling as you guided him to a seat. “You deserve it.”
“I can’t imagine you cooking all this yourself,” he teased.
“Excuse me,” you retorted, feigning offence and lifting a hand to your chest. “I’ll have you know I spent hours on this. Blood, sweat, and tears, my love. Blood, sweat, and tears.”
“Is that so?” he replied, one dark brow arching. “I suppose I should commend your effort, then.”
“You should,” you said, nodding emphatically. “And if you’re not careful, I might make you do the dishes.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, and you could have sworn you saw the ghost of a smile. “I shudder to think of such punishment. The Great Doomsman washing dishes,” he humorous muttered. “How poetic. If my brother ever catches a whiff of me washing dishes, I will never know peace.”
He sat down, his movements as fluid and precise as ever, but you noticed the way his posture relaxed slightly as he settled into the chair. You took the seat opposite him, pouring wine into his goblet before filling your own. The two of you clinked glasses, the sound ringing softly through the room.
As the meal began, Námo allowed himself to enjoy the food, his usual restraint giving way to a more relaxed demeanour. You chatted easily, steering the conversation away from his work and instead focusing on lighter topics—the beauty of the stars that evening, a memory from your shared past, a funny story you had heard earlier in the week. And he listened intently, his lips curving into a faint smile at your words.
At one point, when you reached across the table to brush a crumb from his cheek, he caught your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your fingertips. The simple gesture sent a shiver of warmth through you, and you couldn’t help but smile.
“You spoil me,” he said with a tinged of rare vulnerability.
“Someone has to,” you teased. “And I’ll do it as often as I can.”
“I had forgotten how pleasant it is to simply...be,” he admitted after a while, his voice thoughtful. “To enjoy a meal without the weight of responsibility pressing down.”
“That’s why I wanted to do this for you,” you said softly. “You give so much of yourself to others, Námo. It’s only fair that someone gives back to you.”
His fingers instinctively tightened around yours, his touch warmer now after the meal. He looked at you with a desire that made your breath catch, his viridian eyes filled with a depth of emotion he rarely showed. “You are a gift,” he said quietly, his words carrying a weight that made your heart swell. “One I do not deserve, but one I am endlessly grateful for.”
You felt a heat rise to your cheeks, but before you could respond, Námo rose from his seat, holding out his hand to you. “Come,” he said. “Let us leave this table behind and simply enjoy each other’s company.”
As he led you out the dining room, you two of you ended up in a smaller sitting room, where a plush sofa and a warm hearth awaited. He sat down first, his long, dark robes flowing around him as he leaned back against the cushions. You joined him, curling up at his side as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.
The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the walls. The warmth of the flames and the steady rise and fall of Námo’s chest beneath your hand created a cocoon of comfort and peace. For a while, neither of you spoke, content to simply exist in each other’s presence.
“I cannot remember the last time I felt so at ease,” he admitted eventually. His fingers traced idle patterns on your arm, his touch light and soothing. “You have a way of quieting even the most restless parts of my spirit.”
You smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “That’s what love does,” you replied. “It makes even the heaviest burdens feel lighter.”
He was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the fire. Then he turned to you with an expression uncharacteristically open and vulnerable. “You remind me of the light before the first music,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Pure, untainted, and full of endless possibilities. When I’m with you, it feels as though I am standing in that light once more.”
“You and your rare, sweet words,” you chuckled as you reached up to run your finger along his jawline. “What would I do without them.”
His lips curved into a small, affectionate smile as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. In response, you tilted your head up, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was soft and tender. There was a fleeting moment when you sensed the final weight on his shoulders dissipating.
When you pulled back, his eyes were closed, casting a serene expression. “It seems I have received far more than I deserve tonight.”
You laughed softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “You deserve everything,” you said firmly. “And I’ll spend every day reminding you of that if I have to.”
“You have humbled me, my love,” he whispered. “I do not know what I did to deserve you, but I will spend every moment I have trying to be worthy of you.”
“You already are,” you reassured. “And you always will be.”
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.”
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 mimicking 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 intense, 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, 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.
A/N: I realised that I haven't been posting any Ainur content which is bad. Just the usual bunch, no Oromë, Ulmo, Ossë and Tulkas. Perhaps in a separate post, I'll write for them.
Warnings: fem!reader, bondage, rough sex, edging, overstimulation (multiple orgasms), orgasm denial, temperature play, asphyxiation, pet names (princess, dollface, doll), reader passing out, impact play
༻¨*:·Manwë
This Vala doesn’t play when it comes to you faking something he’s passionate about, and it was perhaps your worse mistake because he’ll keep you up all night to tire you out. Manwё doesn’t have a problem fucking it into your mind, so you never make the mistake again. It’s more pleasure for him.
For a moment, you felt smaller than normal under the scrutiny of his glare when you faked your moans and trembled your legs, acting all tired and sleepy. His thrusts slowed and his arms that gripped your thighs dropped them. One hand snaked easily up your torso and gripped your chin, forcing you to look him in his eyes while the other snatched your hands and pinned them above your head. In an instant, his pace picked back up but with more vigour and power, rocking the bed and trembling your bones. “Faking your orgasm with me princess…when I know exactly what this cunt feels like when it cums?” He laughed and scoffed.
Pulling himself off your sweaty body and straightening himself to prepare for the onslaughter he was about to deliver, it was alright if he ran late to his little meeting with Lord Námo. He had to teach you a lesson first. “If you wanted me to fuck you better, you simply had to ask. But for you little stunt, I’ll make you beg me to cum.” You couldn’t help but widen your eyes as the power of his thrusts increased making your eyes roll in the back of your head. The loud, whiney and pathetic moans that left your lips, begging him to slow down make him laugh. “M-Manwё…p-…please slow d-down, I’m s-sorry…ngghh. Won’t do it…again…” Kissing his teeth, he repositioned him, releasing your chin and pushing your legs over his shoulders, folding you into the bed. “Don’t complain, love, you asked for this, or would you rather me deny you?” Shaking your head frantically at the second option, you whined and begged him not to. “Good girl, consider this mercy with a warning…don't attempt this again.” With that, he kissed your lips and went to work with delivering all his promised overstimulation, sending you to sleep earlier than usual.
༻¨*:·Irmo
You are playing a dangerous game with his Vala who basically has a hand in manipulating sexual pleasure. Irmo isn’t going to let your little game go so easily, he’s holding it to his heart. So, tell me, why fake it? Do you like punishment?
“P-Please…I’m s-…sorry…” you hiccupped with tears streaming down the sides of your pretty face. You were tied to the bed after your little stunt while Irmo sat between your leg, torturously rubbing your clit, fingering and eating you out all that the same time, yet never giving you your release. Edging your for more than an hour, you were covered in a bucket of sweat, tears and hickeys. All the while, Irmo appeared pleased and smug at his artwork. His eyes glittered with affection the longer he stared at how desperately you were searching for your orgasm while he dangled it over your head on a string, out of reach.
“I’m s-…sorry,” he mocked with a laugh, “you sound so pathetic, princess. I thought you didn’t want an orgasm?” He shuffled closer, keeping his finger languorously rubbing circles on your clit, to kiss your forehead. He withheld four orgasms from you, and this was your fifth he was about to deny you. The silver-haired God who hovered over you with a sickeningly sweet and sadistic smile dragged his finger lower and slunk it into your hole and snickered when your eyes rolled back. For a moment, you assumed he was being merciful after the torturous hour he punished you for, but he was attempting to set a record. How long could he edge you for? “I-Irmo, please. I won’t do it again…p-promise,” you whined.
“Oh, I know you won’t because when I’m through, your pretty little brain will remember.”
༻¨*:·Námo
This man has patience, unlike any other being that exists. If you want to play that game with him, the challenge is accepted. I hope you know what you are getting yourself into because your pain is his pleasure.
Gasping and pretending to come down from your high, your body shook and trembled to display your orgasm washing over you. The soft moans that escaped your lips were still a sign of your lover’s cock thrusting deeper and moulding your insides. However, your lover who observed with judging eyes said nothing while you continued your performance. As a being of higher powe, it meant having proper control over his body, and Námo had no problem with showing you how skilled he was. Sighing, he easily gripped your hips, slid himself out to shuffle off the bed and stood at the foot of the bed. With confusion in your eyes, you whined at him, demanding that he returned to finish what he started. “Námo, come back! I still need you!”
It was a lesson to remember when he brought out his ropes, tied you up and then relieved himself before your eyes. He was silent the entire time, enjoying the whines and cries for him to release and continue fucking you. Turning his head to silence your complaining, his viridian eyes bored into your frustrated ones and arched a single brow. Peace had settled over the room which allowed him the time to freshen up and redress. The entire time, he passed up and down your tied-up figure without batting an eyelash and focusing on himself. You looked like a spectacle tied to the bedhead, immobilised. Finished dressing, Námo headed to the door, not before giving you a warning. “Since you didn’t want a real orgasm, you can stay like that and enjoy your time without one until I have finished my duties. Contemplate on your wrongs.”
༻¨*:·Melkor
One word, incapacitated. Seriously, don’t play with something he’s passionate about, but then again, this is all gameplay for him. Something like foreplay, so he’ll consider this a warmup for the real course. However, he still wouldn’t take it lightly because he’s putting effort and time into making you cum.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” his deep voice rumbled throughout the room and shook your very fёa. Eyes widened and form trembling, you realised the mistake you made by playing a dangerous prank on him. He wasn’t going to take ‘it was just a joke’ as an excuse for something he was persistent and dedicated to achieving. You were insulting him, an absolutely disgraceful act to commit. Your stutters and words were stuck in your throat when he leaned closer and hovered watchfully as his hips stilled their motion. Melkor waited patiently for some justification for your little stunt—being benevolent just for this one moment. “I’m…I’m sorry—” your apology was cut off, him not wanting to hear the rest of the excuse.
“Of course you are sorry. My little one would never fake an orgasm, huh? Isn’t that so? Yes…” His words were patronising but his hips that regained their momentum and now pistoned in and out your heat were diabolical. Your legs went into a frenzy and began trembling while your nails dug deeply into his biceps. Whimpers and squeaks flew past your lips and incoherent mumblings floated through the air. His laughter at your pathetic state, drool everywhere, eyes rolled into your head and head lulled, echoed deeply in your mind. It screamed at you to never attempt such a challenge again. “Get it in your head dollface, you accept what I give you with gratitude or you get nothing at all,” he whispered against your cheek before dipping his head to attach his lips to your neck. Before the night was over, Melkor had stolen orgasms and given you so many, your body was sent into overstimulation until you passed out.
༻¨*:·Eönwë
He really couldn’t believe that you would go to great lengths and refuse to inform him that he isn’t fucking your right. Like why couldn’t you just tell him he wasn’t doing something right? Was communicating so difficult?
Gripping the sheets for dear life, a sharp moan slipped past your lips when a firm hand came down on your ass, leaving it bright red. Your body was being tossed around like a ragdoll and there wasn’t anything you could do or say. All you had to do was lie there and take all the rough fucking that Eӧnwё was giving. You could feel the anger and pain in his grip and voice when he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Is this enough, or am I still not fucking you right? Hmm? Don’t run from me Y/N…” he growled when you arched from a powerful thrust he sent your way, sending your body jerking out of his hold. He was feral and his avian side was acting up at the fact that his mate was lying for a serious matter. “What’s the matter, can’t talk like earlier and tell me I’m fucking you right?!”
Your eyes rolled at the same time your head dropped into the mattress to hide your whimpers, but he wasn’t having any of that. His right hand reached out to snatch your hair and yank your head upwards so he could hear your cries. “Is this what you wanted?” you could hear the faint traces of his avian side slipping into the mix. If it did, you were in trouble. Eӧnwё’s avian side never took these things for granted, and you were sure from the rate his thrusts were developing, it was there. Pressing his body against yours, his left hand wedged itself between your legs to rub your clit, pinching the little nub and laughing at your pleas. “I’m feeling to deny you right now, but I want to fuck you senseless at the same time for using me. I bet you would love that, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you don’t cum tonight while I get my fill.” Seems like his avian side was surely there and you weren’t getting any sleep.
༻¨*:·Tilion
He’s angry at himself for not being able to realise that he wasn’t pleasuring you right to the point you had to fake it, but…he isn’t entirely your himbo who’s going to cry in a corner about it. Tilion will take matters into his hand and make you remember to never pull that stunt again.
Looking up at his face when you decided to open your eyes after pretending to suffer the effects of an orgasm, Tilion’s eyes were sharp and narrowed. “You really think that after all these years of fucking this cunt, I won’t know what it feels like?” A hand had snaked its way up your body to wrap around your throat and apply pressure while the other came down to slap the inner of your thigh. His hips ceased their thrusting, and his cock stilled its movement in your cunt, though he could feel the desperation of your walls fighting to clamp around him. The little flexing of your muscles to retain what little pleasure you could find to satisfy your cunt caused him to look down and tauntingly laugh. “You want my cock so badly after your little stunt? Brats like you don’t deserve my cock or to cum.”
Flashing a look of apology and whining, you pleaded with him to have mercy and cried even moving when he slipped out. In a flash, you were on your knees with your ass high in the air and a loud smack echoed. You could barely comprehend the next round of actions since everything happened so quickly. The feeling of his weight pressing on top of you, immobilising you while driving his cock into your deeper was euphoric, but he found it better to deny you your orgasms. Refusing to rub your clit, and using your body to get himself off, he wanted to teach you a lesson. “Til-…Tilion please, let me c-cum!” He enjoyed listening to the sounds of your begging, the desperation in your cries, but he wasn’t giving in so easily. “Are you sure about that? You didn’t want to earlier. Be a good little girl and take what I give you.”
༻¨*:·Mairon
He’s gonna do the same thing as Námo and Irmo. You are really in for it and was simply setting yourself up for torture. You’re not going to be getting released because he’s evil like that.
You couldn’t say or do anything as you found yourself tied up and dangling from the chandelier in your shared chambers. Not too high off the ground, but just low enough for your toes to touch and fight to grip the carpet. The flaming red-headed Maia stood before you no longer naked but dressed in simple trousers and robes leaving him shirtless for you to marvel at his lithe physique. There was an increase in the room's temperature, more heated than anything leaving a sheen of sweat to coat your skin which Mairon took advantage of. Ice. He ran the light cube over your erogenous zones, close enough to gain whiny, high-pitched squeals and pleas from you. “Why should I stop? I’ve been wanting to experiment for a long time—I’ve found the perfect moment to practice. Don’t interrupt me!” he warned.
Clearly not pleased with your stunt earlier. Your orgasms were an art form he described to be perfection to the highest degree. Something that took care and time…and then you faked one before the eyes of a perfectionist. Nothing ever went without punishment, and what better way to punish you than to give you what you were demanding. “Don’t cry, you asked for this. If you had only been a good little doll for me, I would have spoiled you tonight… Now don’t squirm, I want to see how long you can take being denied before you learn your place.” His hands were chilled from gripping the ice and now running over the expanse of your skin, tickling, rubbing and touching everywhere far too light to relieve the ache. “Are you going to be good and let me have me way after your little stunt? Of course, you are, it’s the only way to cum.”
Hi! I’m new to your blog and I don’t know if your requests are open ( if not I’m sorry just disregard this🫠) but if they are can you write something NSFW with Námo and a fem reader? Like maybe he sees her talking to someone in Mandos (like Feanor or someone) and gets jealous and then decides to remind her that she’s his? The spicier the better 🔥🔥🔥
Author's Note: I haven't officially opened requests for stuff outside of small events and challenges, but I was planning to do that sometime so why not~🖤
A Reminder
Characters: Námo/femMaia!reader
Synopsis: Námo sees his favourite Maia spending a little too much time with a certain Noldo and decides to remind her that she belongs to him
Featuring: Smut, BDSM, spanking, creampie
Warnings: Explicit
"Come."
His command echoes within your mind, the force of his voice drowning out all others, and you find yourself losing focus on your current conversation.
"My lord-?"
"Now."
You tremble slightly, causing the elven fëa in front of you to draw closer, thoughts of concern on his mind. Perceptive as ever, Fëanor has already noticed your moment of distraction and immediately asks, "Is something the matter?"
You compose yourself as quickly as you can and reach out with your fëa to send a few calming thoughts, not wishing to worry him. Given how gloomy and quiet the Halls of Mandos could be, conversing with the rebellious Noldo has become one of the more delightful activities for you – and one your fellow Maiar gladly leave to you, finding themselves exasperated by his temperament.
"I am afraid I must cut our conversation short," you respond and bow your head respectfully. "Lord Námo summons me."
"A pity." Fëanor regards you with a certain warmth, an unusual sight. It hasn't escaped his notice either that not many of both your and his own kind are willing to be in his company, and though apprehensive at first, your feelings of appreciation seem to be reciprocated. The thought makes you smile.
"I will return in time," you promise, then hurry to appear before your lord. The sharpness in his tone earlier leads you to believe that he isn't in the mood to wait for you.
Námo is sitting on his throne with an air of otherworldly elegance, one elbow placed on the armrest as he appears to be pondering some kind of issue. His eyes meet yours as soon as he senses your presence, and you feel heat and cold alike course through you like electricity.
Something has displeased him.
"There you are, my little raven."
Námo's voice betrays nothing, yet he continues to regard you with thinly veiled discontent.
"My lord," you greet him and bow deeply. "How may I assist you?"
It feels strange to be so formal, you notice, after spending nights of passion in your lord's bed. Nevertheless, you know he prefers to court in private, and expects you to be on your best behaviour as a Maia of Mandos.
Námo seems like he hasn't paid attention to your question, but doesn't keep you waiting for too long. "I appreciate your hard work and dedication, yet I must admit that I find myself displeased when I see you spending so much time with a certain Noldo."
Your eyes widen. Until now, you weren't aware that he's been keeping an eye on you, let alone that he doesn't approve of your encounters with Fëanor.
"He seemed like he was in need of company," you attempt to defend yourself, but Námo raises his hand, signalling you to be silent.
"Your patience and kindness is commendable. My sister would certainly be proud," he says, yet in spite of praising you, his gaze betrays his displeasure. "And even so, you must remember that you belong to me first and foremost."
Your fána heats up as his eyes roam your form, desire causing them to darken, and your heart flutters in your chest. You want to tell him that you do belong to him and no one else, but something tells you that Námo won't be satisfied with mere words. Not when he looks at you like this, not when he speaks to you with such possessiveness in his voice. He will seek to claim you once again, and the realisation sparks desire within you as well.
You want to be his.
"Perhaps a reminder is in order," Námo suggests, though you both know his words are more akin to an order, and beckons you closer with a small wave of his hand.
You nod, flushing red under your hood and approach his throne with shaky steps. Will he take you right here, you wonder, to show everyone to whom you belong? It seems like it when he pulls you onto his lap and starts kissing you roughly, capturing your lips with his while his hands take hold of your smaller fána.
"P-please, my lord... not here–"
Námo lets out a quiet chuckle. "You don't want me to spread your lovely legs and take you in front of my court? I feel like you would enjoy it..."
His hand reaches underneath your hood to seize a fistful of your hair, tugging lightly to expose your neck for better access.
"But you have a point. The sight of your true beauty is mine alone to behold, and I don't want others desiring what belongs to me."
"Námo-!"
You barely manage to call out his name before the world around you suddenly shifts and blurs. He's bringing you somewhere else, but you don't know where until your back hits something soft and you look up at Námo looming over you with a stern expression. A quick glance around reveals that you're lying on his bed, his left hand resting on your chest to hold you in place in case you choose to defy his silent command. You let all tension leave your muscles as proof of your obedience and look up at him expectantly, waiting for him to decide what should be done to remind you of your place.
"Are you ready to be disciplined, little raven?" Námo asks. His voice is gentle and his mien relaxes as he utters those words, despite the lust and hunger shining in his eyes; even though he enjoys to be strict and dominant and his jealousy was very much genuine, he would never punish or claim you against your will. He knows he has acted on instinct and will not rob you of your chance to say no.
"I am ready, my lord," you whisper and bite your lip, shifting on the bed as heat begins to pool inside you. "I think I very much am in need of discipline."
Námo accepts your words with a pleased nod. "A confession is the first step, but I am afraid you will still have to submit to punishment so you will remember not to stray too far from my side again."
You lower your gaze in a display of penitence. "Of course, my lord."
Both of you are more than aware that neither of you regrets this, yet you love to commit to playing your roles accordingly. Námo doesn't take off your robes, letting his hand trail down your body instead. Slowly and methodically, he pulls up your skirt to expose your lower body and removes your panties. You squirm in anticipation and watch as his long fingers wrap around your ankles and lift your legs with just one hand, pushing them closer to your chest to expose your backside.
The first slap comes without warning, and you let out a soft gasp, realising that your lord intends to spank you.
"Whom do you serve?" Námo asks, accentuating his question with another well-aimed slap to your other thigh.
"Y-you, my lord–"
Slap.
"Articulate yourself properly."
"I-I serve you, my lord..."
A small smile, a curt nod. Nevertheless, he continues to spank you in-between questions.
"And to whom do you belong?"
"You – ah – I'm yours, my lord!"
"Indeed."
More slaps. Your ass and thighs start feeling warm.
"Do you think I like to share what is mine?"
"N-no, my lord..."
"Very good, little raven. So where should you be?"
"I should be... a-at your side... always–"
Námo rewards you with one final slap, then rubs your reddened skin soothingly. Despite the pain – or perhaps because of it – you feel yourself getting wet.
"Then you should know better than to spend all your time talking to rebellious fëar," he admonishes, "and if you keep disobeying me, I will have to use other means than just my hands next time."
The prospect is tempting. You wonder if you should disobey him on purpose, just to see what punishment he will devise for you, but your thoughts are interrupted when Námo releases your ankles to spread your legs. He pushes two fingers inside you, letting out a content hum as he feels your wetness dripping onto his hand all too eagerly.
"Good girl... so ready for me..."
You can't wait to have him inside you. Thankfully Námo doesn't keep you waiting - you hear the rustling of fabric as he parts his robes just enough to free his erection and feel him entering you without further delay. He pushes slowly but steadily, savouring the feeling of your tight walls parting for him, and you claw at the sheets underneath you.
"Ah– Námo-!"
"Do you like this?" he whispers, leaning in to brush his lips against yours while he speaks. "Do you enjoy being claimed, my lovely little raven?"
"Y-yes-!"
Námo allows you a few precious seconds of adjusting to his size before he starts moving. It's not gentle lovemaking this time, no – he fucks you with hard, almost frenzied thrusts, strict and merciless like when he passes judgement, making sure to penetrate you as deeply as he can. While your moans and cries of bliss fill the room, your lord is a silent lover, listening to the beautiful noises you make instead.
He seizes your legs once again and pushes them up to your chest to go deeper still, pleased as your smaller fána arches helplessly underneath him and the song of your pleasure increases in volume yet again.
"So good for me, such a good girl..." Námo groans, pupils dilating in pure lust and hunger until his eyes are dark like a starless night. "I will fill you with my essence so you won't forget to whom you belong... so they will all know you are mine..."
You can only nod in agreement, and he fulfils his promise shortly after, releasing deep inside you. It seems to you as if he couldn't wait to fill you up, couldn't wait to lay claim to you in the most intimate way possible, and you take all he gives you.
Námo stays inside you for a while, making sure not a single droplet of his essence is wasted, and starts humming a soothing tune. You know this is yet another way for him to mark you, leaving an echo of his song on your fëa like an invisible imprint, ensuring that neither Ainur nor the fëar of Mandos will dare to come too close to you; and this, too, you accept gladly.
"All mine," Námo whispers and kisses your lips.
"All yours," you mumble obediently, eyes falling close as a sensation of comfortable weariness slowly overcomes you.
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Can I ask for the Ainur's reaction to a drunk S/O who doesn't recognize them?
Thank you!
The Ainur — Dealing With Their Drunk S/O
...they are ANNOYED. Watching you run all about the place intoxicated and talk to yourself in the mirror or weirdly flirt with them is giving them more of a headache than entertainment. Though I’m not saying that they aren’t being entertained, they are, but would rather focus on stopping you from crawling on the floor or climbing them like some wild animal. It gets worse when you grab their faces and speak to them with your alcoholic breath in their faces while flirting. You are a terrible flirt in their eyes and was wrong to believe that their flirting abilities lacked. “If you were a fart…I’d never let you go. I’d hold onto you forever.” Please, someone, save them from you.
Námo, Mairon, Ossё
...they are HUMOURED. Not once are they freaked out by your behaviour if anything, it is pure entertainment for them. To make matters worse, they urge you to continue embarrassing yourself for the kicks of it. It’s been a while since they had a good laugh at a drunk person, and you were clearly the highlight of their night, they don’t want it to end. Watching as you dance and trip all over yourself while attempting to impress them because you claimed to have excellent flirting skills to swoon them, they are patiently sitting by and observing. “I am an excellent dancer and came first in freestyle dancing…h-hundreds of times…watch this” Someone stop you because you faceplanted the floor.
Irmo, Tulkas, Oromё, Melkor, Tilion
...they are CONCERNED. They worried mothers who need to pamper and take you indoors and out of embarrassment. Every action you perform makes them question your sanity because ‘how much did you drink to get like this?’. It’s a clear sign that they must keep you away from alcohol. The situation does escalate with you making passes at them and wanting to fight them as well. “You’re kinda cute but my husband will kick your ass if he saw you because you’re also ugly. He’s stronger than you…I should call him…”
For the reactions (YAYYYYY) can i ask for the anuir? (sorry i probably spelt that wrong) reacting to their s/o saying "mark me down as scared and horny" when they get Mad™️? I love reading your writing!!!
a/n: When I tell you I laughed at this😂. This was hilarious.
If 'I am confusion' had a face, it would be these guys. The minute it slipped out, their words falter and they begin to scrounge their face up. "Huh? W-What...What do you mean by that?" Poor darlings ignore the horny part and focuses on the scared part.
EONWE, Manwe, Tilion, ULMO
At first, they freeze because they truly believe you were scared until they saw your smirk and immediately catch on to your phrase and choose to initiate something more to return the same stunt you pulled. Probably corners you and attempts to genuinely make you horny. "I'm just assisting you with your problem love."
IRMO, OROME, Tulkas, MELKOR
The moment your words slipped out, you're getting the 'I am disappointed in you' look from them. Like, they are so done with your and your dramatic antics. They're not even mad anymore, just disappointed. The eye roll and exasperated sigh they hit you with just make you pout or laugh.
