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doodle-pops · 1 year

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Cherry Blossoms

Manwë x reader

A/N: First smut piece of the new year and since Kinktober, it's been a long while, hasn't it? :) I felt like I almost forgot how to write a decent piece lol

Warnings: fembod, breeding, size kink, knotting, dom-sub dynamic, manhandling, fingering, cervix fucking, stomach bulging, avian traits and Manwë being a feral King

Words: 6.5k

Synopsis: Cherry blossoms were always Manwë's favourite flower especially when he could taste it on your skin during a spring heat.

The moment you stepped onto the grounds of Illmarin, Manwё was able to smell you and it spurred his temptation to have you into overdrive. He was resisting the urge to leave his solidarity and come find you. The way you aimlessly roamed through the halls of Illmarin, calling out his name or his herald prompted his hand to run down his down and grip the base of his shaft. Your voice sounded sweet and innocent, like the finest cherry blossoms spring had to offer this year. Your honey scent rippled off your skin and waffled through the air, travelling all the way to his quiet domain to assist him with his indulgence.

The hand wrapped around his shaft refused to start off slowly; the heavy grip at the base squeezed and tugged as his other hand fondled his balls. Harmonious moans were sung through the room and echoed off the glass walls, some dancing through the air and into the open garden. For every moan he released, your presence grew nearer and so was your scent; you were ripe for taking. There wasn’t a single thought behind his head other than taking you right the moment you walked through those doors. Just to have you sprawled out beneath him as his hips drove themselves into your heavenly heat while you sang his name alongside the magpies and larks. Just like a spring bird.

His eyes were shut when he heard your footsteps halt outside his room, and he silently and impatiently waited for you to push the cream and blue doors open. Behind his impatience, mutters and growls about you keeping your mate waiting grew to bass-baritone. The hand sliding along his shaft quickened its pace but still kept it under control, wanting for you to become aware of how wild he would become for you. How easily your scent and presence would drive him to the brink of sanity and make him lose all sense of composure.

A quiet knock on the door took him out of his trance and urged him to crane his neck to the right and observe your petite figure entering his room. The moment you walked through the door, you were met with Manwё’s back facing you, naked in the pool with his white hair clinging to his skin. The glow of his skin under Arien’s ray was stunning the longer you stared. His muscles were toned and ripped, and the slight tan to his skin as the light kissed him made you feel jealous. You wanted to be up close and personal with him like she did. Manwё could feel your gaze on him, and he felt pleased knowing that his mate was impressed with his physique. His ability to protect and provide was approved by you.

You were still standing near the door when his voice rang out, missing the hint of him teasing you, “How did you know I was here buttercup?” It was taking every last ounce of restraint from Manwё to not pounce on you right there. But at the same time, he was using the realistic visual to assist his throbbing cock and the precum oozing from the tip.

“I-I don’t exactly know My Lord, I just walked,” the use of his title made his cock throb with more want and a greater desire to ravish you on the cold marble floor. The innocence in your voice was driving him up a mountain. He had yet to turn around and bare himself to you, allowing you to witness the mess you were making of him. Though, he was stunned that you hadn’t questioned his lack of integrity in his nudity, “Apologies My Lord if I interrupted—”

“—You interrupted nothing, you are welcomed…to stay if it,” the growls in his voice echoed while the rigid muscles in his back and arms gave away his tenseness, “pleases you, princess.” His voice echoed inside your mind, melting and turning you into a complete puddle of mess. The use of your endearing term incited butterflies to fly around in your stomach before travelling to your heat. All the while, you still didn’t comprehend what was happening to him.

“Manwё—”

“My Lord, that is to you princess,” his voice was like caramel; rich, sweet, thick and creamy as it poured into your ears and made your core throb. A tiny flow of your arousal leaked and it didn’t go unnoticed by the Elder King. His nose twitched and pointed in the air as he directed a cool flow of wind to pick up your scent. Manwё didn’t attempt to withhold the moan escaping his throat while his wrist flicked his shaft, thumb swiping at the slit, and squeezing his balls. He was close and he could feel the swelling of his balls being filled with his cum and the dire urge to breed you. Lulling his head to the side, his stormy blue eyes slithered over to observe your state of shock; the pheromones radiating off you surely did not assist in covering up your desire for him as well.

You were standing there, holding your arms with doe eyes at your King. This was a new behaviour from him, one you hadn’t experienced nor heard of before. It turned you on which created a stream of flowing mess trailing down your thighs and clinging to your lips, but you weren’t sure how he would take it. As far as you knew, your Lord was reserved with anything that involved intimacy. “M-My Lord Manwё, is everything alright? You do not quite look yourself…” and it was then you saw it, the ring of gold that flashed in the light and the predatory gleam in his eyes told you that this was not your Manwё.

Loving the gasp elicited from you, he couldn’t help but feel in a playful mood; he wanted to toy with his meal before devouring you whole and thoroughly. You were such a pretty prey, why not play with his meal for a bit, rile you up to his liking and then ravish you. The deep chuckle that reverberated within his chest bounced off the glass and marble walls. It echoed deep within your fёa and added to the growing arousal. You believed that from the distance the King stood, he could surely see the small wet patch on your dress that clung to your heat. It made you shuffle your hands to cover up while dancing on your feet.

While you were shuffling, Manwё took the opportunity to turn himself around and bare his naked form to you, though you only saw from his waist come up. Wading through the waters, he glided with elegance until he approached the staircase and bounded up the four-threader with ease before strutting over to you. Naked as he was created, the rise in your heart rate was picked up by him and he smirked at the effects. You were his mate; it was your duty to be affected by him. everything he did was supposed to make you swoon for him because they were all done for you.

His left hand reached up to push his hair back and out of his face, allowing it to cascade down his back. The water droplets clung to his skin with an absolute refusal to let go and the slight tan to his caramel skin made him appear delectable. Your tongue betrayed you and poked past your lips to wet them. Images of you licking the water off his skin flooded your mind and made you grow hotter. Even, the knowledge and reality of your King strolling casually over to you in his naked form was making it hard to breathe. You didn’t know if to inhale twice before exhaling or the opposite. You found yourself struggling to compose your fidgeting, especially the eyes. Where to look other than his leaking cock that dangled like a third leg? The sky, the walls or the pools? He strutted proudly over to you with danger and hunger gleaming in his eyes.

The tip was red and stood out from the rest of his body and it appeared angry and hungry, desperately waiting and wanting to be put out of misery. His veins were engorged and if anything, his cock was engorged as well. You knew and heard enough about what the average male carried, and this was beyond average. Even knowing that he was a celestial being, he wasn’t supposed to be that big, right? His body was beefier than normal as though he spent a copious time building muscles in your absence. And his height, what was the normal nine feet he presented himself as was now ten feet. Your Lord towered over your meek form with feral grins and coy smirks. All this time, you were trapped between the door and his approaching figure. You could run if you wanted, but your legs refused to move due to the desired essences his presence offered. You were feeding off him.

“My, my, my, what have we here. A little bird in my domain in need of helping,” he finally stood above you, thick fingers gripping your chin and tilting it upwards to meet his midnight blue eyes. The flash of desire and the swirling storms raging within told you that Manwё had long given up the internal battle. At the whisper of his words, you rubbed your thighs together to cease the growing pain. You King didn’t miss the action, he smelt it right off you.

His head couldn’t help but dip to meet your face, licking his peach lips as he observed your trembling form. So meek and timid, perfect for his taking to fill you with his cum. You were ripe for his taking and your King wasn’t missing the opportunity. Swiping his thumb against your bottom lip, he marvelled at its softness; cherry blossoms, and he wished to bite or nibble at it.

You were lost in his hypnotic gaze as it sucked you into a never-ending pit of pleasure. You weren’t even aware of the hand that tugged yours and guided you over to the pool. Your legs aimlessly followed his massive figure over to the crystal waters filled with cherry blossoms, your King’s favourite flower during the spring. Eyes locked onto the pool filled with flowers, a hand rose to cup the back of your neck before trailing your skin to meet the laces on your dress. With an easy tug, the laces came undone and your dress loosen around your frame. He was impatient and didn’t appreciate the wait, right now, he had no problem shredding the dress of your body and tossing it to the side haphazardly before tugging your dazed figure into the waters.

Bare before your King, he eyed you up and down, eyes falling on your hips and stomach as images of having you stuffed with his cum while he bruised your hips filled his mind. Oh, your King was going to wreck you from start till end. Any attempt to cover up was removed from the admiration he cast your way. His thick fingers trailed over your skin leaving trails of goosebumps in its wake while ghosting your neither regions. Manwë’s hands didn’t fail to cup your breast, feeling your trembling and marvelling at the perfection they were as they sat in his hands. The shy virgin in you was peeking out from behind her hands at the interaction. She wanted to cower timidly at her Lord, but the lustful looks he gave to her, beckoned her to climb out of her shy shell. Manwë wanted to dance with her and show her the world she was missing and yet to enjoy.

The pleasure and excitement of having him all to herself, giving herself all to him; to be claimed and consumed by a godly figure like himself. He wanted her to experience all that and more. “Be not shy before me arimelda, bare yourself to me, your King—join me and become mines,” his voice reached out to your fëa and tickled you out of your shell. His hand reached out to guide you into the water, and step by step, he pulled you in to meet him. The inviting look in his eyes made you walk to him blindly without a care in the world. You knew that Manwë would never hurt you and that you trusted him with your life.

Leading you over to the miniature waterfall, you stood on the stones to give yourself some height as your King silently pressed himself against your back. His hands ran up and down your arms, caressing your honey skin and covering you with water. You could feel his cock poking your back, rubbing to gain slight friction as his hands began to wander. From your arms, they came to your neck and shoulders, tilting it to the side for him to bring his lips down on your skin. Biting and sucking on the delicate flesh, Manwë was decorating your skin in hues of purple flowers. Your brain was hazy from all the pheromones he was permeating through the air and prompted your body to relax into his. Your hands that covered your breast fell to the side and dragged their nails into his thighs. For every bite he gave, your nail dug deeper into his flesh, barely breaking the skin.

The sounds of water and moans danced through the air as Manwë devoured your skin like it was the sweetest nectar heaven offered him. His hands ran up and down your body crazily, making the most stops around your lower abdomen, cupping the area and giving little rubs as he mentally imaged your skin stretched and filled with his cum. His left hand danced lower past your navel and closer to your heat while the right remained on your abdomen. His lips trailed closer to your ears to whisper absolute filth about what he was planning on doing.

“Right here,” he rubbed your stomach, “I’m going to fill you with my cum so sweetly that you’d beg me for more, hmm sweetness. And right here,” he cupped your cunt, "I’m going to fuck you so perfectly with my cock...make you mine.” His hand cupped your cunt dipped lower to spread your lips and run his thumb through your folds.

Tossing your head onto Manwë’s shoulder as you twisted in his embrace at the newfound sensation, you gasped as you felt his tongue brushing your earlobe at the same time his index finger slunk into your entrance. Everything was overwhelming, it was as though your senses were on fire. You felt everything all at once and didn't know how to process it—push him away or keep him close. All you knew was that the pleasure was phenomenal. Your hands left his thighs to grip his biceps, curling into them and leaving dozens of crescent moon marking for later showings. The flick of his tongue and finger were in synchronicity and knocked the air out of your chest, you were fighting to compute a sentence aside from the musically pleasing moans and whines.

Manwë’s avian traits were feeding into the songs and considered you singing for him. A pleasing response for the King from his mate. He couldn’t help but respond with low coos in your ear while he grounded his hips into your back for greater friction, smearing his precum across your skin and staining you with his scent. The underlying possessiveness of your King. You would hear it in the lowly grows and chirps.

“My K-King! Feels...feels,” you fumbled with your words as his finger caved deeper, brushing the tip of your cervix.

“Go on, tell your mate how he’s making you feel little dove,” he cooed in your ear while nibbling on your lobe. His finger took the right moment to twist and pump with greater vigour causing you to arch out of his grasp and check on a sob, “let him know how much you love his hands all over you.”

Fighting in Manwë's grip as the pleasure grew, he removed his hand from your stomach and cupped your head to turn it towards him and met his lips. His larger ones swooped down to capture yours in a heated lock. There was no point in fighting for dominance, you understood that your King was in charge and there was no questioning it. With ease, he pried your lips apart the same time he traced another finger around your entrance, prepping you before joining the other. He had to ensure you were ready to take him otherwise he'd tear you in half. The thought of you being a tight fit made his head light and giddy. Oh, Manwë wanted to ruin you to complete shatters. To feel your nails digging into his biceps and begging him to slow down as he left your insides battered drove his cock to sputter cum across your back. The loud grunt of his baritone moan echoed off the glass as his hips eased their movement bringing him down from his high.

“M-My King, you came?”

“Worry not my little dove, there’s more where that came from and it’s all for you. I have plenty to give,” he spoke into the kiss before wrapping his tongue around yours and sucking on the muscle drawing out musical notes. He was sucking the air out of your chest, loving the taste of cherries, “but for now, let me feel you around my fingers once more, cream all over them for me, let me taste you.”

“Ngh—oh fuck,” you squealed as his second ginger joined the first, tight was the fit and suffocating Manwë felt. His cock twitched in delight and anticipation. His fingers crooked and pumped their way past your walls, relishing in the hot, gummy sensation. The sponginess of your heat wrapped around his fingers elicited groans from his lips. Manwë wasn’t sure if he could take the wait any longer and decided it was to withdraw his fingers. Crying out at the loss of his digits, your body was airborne for a short moment before your back was pressed against the cold wet hard stone of the waterfall and your legs wrapped around the Elder King’s waist. You were like a doll compared to him, perfect for manhandling about the place to his liking.

His enormous palms reached out to cup your ass, lifting and bringing you closer to his waiting cock. With your short arms around his neck, you craned to look down at where he was slapping against your stomach. The sheer weight of his cock resting against you made you terrified of what was yet to come. “M-My Lord, I d-don’t think you w-would fit...you're too big for me,” whining at him, which caught his attention, Manwë dipped his head down to cup your face while thumbing your cheeks.

“My sweetest little dove, you were made for me, therefore I will fit. We will make it fit,” with that, he easily lifted you with his left hand while the right was stroking his hardened cock, readying it for passage.

Looking down at his leaking cock, you gasped when the head nudged against your entrance, pushing itself past the first ring of muscles. Scrambling in his hold and clawing at his back, once the tip slipped in, Manwë slowly sunk you down on his shaft. His veins kissed your gummy walls, noodling and reshaping you to fit and take him all. You were made for him, your cunt would wrap perfectly around his cock, even if it meant suffocating the life out of him. The weight of his cock nestled deep within your heat with his tip rubbing against your cervix earned him to first pulse and contraction before he felt warmth trickling down. Just his size was enough to give you your first orgasm. Clenching and spasming around his dick and making him hiss in excitement.

Your legs tightened around his waist as the pressure never ended. The hand that held his cock, travelled upwards to rest against your abdomen swallowing your stomach whole. With a gentle press, Manwë felt his cock lodged deep within and where it belonged. The outline was visible from both your angles; however, your eyes were busy being shut and taking in the stretching pain of your walls. You were waiting to be torn in half. Nothing in life could have prepared you for your first time with the Elder King. Everything about him was perfect and it was known from the mewls and whines you released in his ear. His nails on instinct, dug into the flesh of your ass, gripping the soft muscles and squeezing the remnants of it. You were more perfect in real life than some minor fantasy he conjured during his previous heats.

“My Lord...” you cried as you felt the pulsation from his cock, beating within your heat. You wished that he would move and not deny you the pleasure he promised. The young innocent maiden was still there, but she was borderline becoming a wild and ravenous woman.

“Little one, if I move, I'll break you. I can't have that ha—"

“—I don't care about being fragile. I want you to fuck me like you desire My King. Please, just give yourself to me...”

The sound of growls and wet skin slapping aggressively against each other echoed throughout the room. Moans mixed with mewls and cries for more as your hands dropped to press against your King's stomach, begging him to slow down while your legs did the opposite and tightened to suck him in urged Manwë to become more relentless. A quick slap to your hand as he snatched and them above your head, one hand cupping your ass and the other holding you prisoner.

A beautiful and haunting laugh ripped from his throat before he before his face to hover above yours, “Trying to run from what I'm giving dove, you asked for this? Your King is serving his Queen, you should be grateful.” His mouth swooped down to capture yours in a stormy dance of teeth and tongue. They clashed and collided against each other while his hips work their thunderous magic on your cunt. The obvious ring of cream coating his cock at the base told you that he was hungry for more. It was so beautifully created as it told the story of how the Elder King became one with his mate.

Your nipples were hardened as they rubbed against his chest, creating a delicious friction that made your cunt throb and tightened around his cock. The little stutter of his hips as he laughed at the action did nothing to deter his momentum. Your Vala had power for days as he sandwiched you between the stone wall and his muscular body. You couldn’t do anything as his hips and mouth worked their magic of leaving you beaten and battered. The way his cock would slide past your gummy walls, moulding and reshaping it to hug him perfectly as it was always meant to be had your brain delirious.

The diabolical and sinister slaps and rolls of his hips to make his cock punish your cervix had you babbling into his mouth nonstop. He loved that; he enjoyed the mess he was able to make of his Queen. Only a true mate who loved and worshipped his lover would give them the immense pleasure he condoned. He wanted to mould himself with you, reshape you and him so you would both fit each other like perfect pieces to a puzzle. He would give everything to you, and you would give everything to him.

The loud pita-patter of his heavy balls beating against your ass echoed brilliantly throughout the room as his cock drove with aggression in and out of your heat. For every cry of his name, his hips increased their motion until he was punishing and bruising your hips. Pounding away at your gummy walls, the feral grunts of his pleasure were sung into your ear the deeper his cock plunged past your mushy walls.

Dragging his lips away from your mouth leaving only a trail of saliva to hang, he locked eyes would your closed one and growled. The hands holding yours released them and gripped your cheeks, careful to not scratch you with his nails, “Eyes on me darling, look at me as I’m giving my all to you,” his hand gave a gentle shake to your face to get you to open your eyes but to no avail, you responded. He wasn’t pleased with the lack of attention on him as he was pouring his sweat into making you his. With ease, he forced himself to slow his hips, making the dragging off his cock snail's pace. It was enough to gain your attention with a whine and cry of his name, “Manwë—”

“—Ah, now that I have your attention little dove, eyes on me or I’ll stop,” his nostrils flared as he spoke with a storm in his eyes. If he was about to give you his seed, might as well incorporate some romantic themes into the sloppy, rough fuck he was delivering.

Keeping his hands on your cheeks, he watched as your eyes fluttered and fought to stay open as his hips regained their low and delirious pumping that made your head spin. The little starry and distant look he observed swelled his ego. You were sure that weeks and months after this fuck, you'd be feeling his cock stirring in your heat. Even right then, the notion of being fucked was so good by a god had a waterfall running from your legs and Manwë loved every second of it. The squelching with every slap of his thighs to your hips bruised your pelvis and left a delicious burn, “Just like that, eyes on me...good girl.”

Manwë's head had dipped to bury in your neck, quick to devour your scent and his. All that mattered to him was that you smelt like him during and after his heat. Nudging his nose and swiping his tongue to collect your taste, he growled in delight at the satisfaction of the sweetness he savoured. Your honeysuckle skin that smelt like spring's freshest cherry blossoms made his feral desires grow. The action of his heated tongue on your skin forced you to release harmonic pants and increase the flow of your arousal which led to the loud squelching of his cock pumping into you, “Manwë, ngh, please don't stop—right there...”

Your moans were increasing as his tempo grew and your fingers laced themselves into his hair, nails pressing into his scalp. At the action, Manwë’s head tossed back, leaving his neck open for assaulting and you took to opportunity to lean upwards to plant your lips upon his silky skin. Your tongue lapped at the water droplets, tasting the richness of the caramel his skin provided. You were hungry for the divine richness your godly lover provided, any inch of skin revealed to you, your mouth ran over leaving your own markings on him.

“Mmmh, sweetness, your mouth feels divine, but I would rather have it screaming my name, no?” within an instant, Manwë gathered you in his arms as waded through the water to the sides of the pool and placed you on the cold tile. For every powerful step he took, your walls trembled around his cock, clenching at the tip rubbing against your soft spot. You were resisting the dire urge to roll your eyes and become brain dead when he wasn't even fucking you at the moment.

You couldn’t help but shriek as the coldness seeped into your bones and moan right after as your King dragged your body down onto his cock. Manwë’s body towered over yours, arms and legs caging either side of your frame and enormous hands gripping the back of your thighs, spreading and pushing them to meet your head. His thick fingers pressed into the fatness of your thigh, squeezing at the plump flesh.

You couldn’t believe the position you were contorted into—like some wild common whore—but you weren’t complaining when you could feel the thick veins on his cock dragging along your spongy walls smoothly. The imprint of his cock was more visible in the noon daylight, shifting and tugging, doing everything it could to accommodate and mould you to take his cock and cum. Even the pressing weight of his massive body was doing its part in ensuring you stayed under him, where you belonged.

“So. Fucking. Perfect. And all for me,” folding you into a deeper mating press, his thighs slapped vigorously against your softer ones, leaving a series of red prints. Every thrust sent your eyes into your head, and it earned you growls to keep it open and on him. “Keep those eyes, open sweetness. Gonna take my cum and look so pretty. All round for me?” a hard thrust and you nearly slipped out of his grip, “running from me still? Uh, uh, darling. Can’t do that—gonna fuck you till you're full of my cum and cock.”

All your responses were endless babbling and nonsensical mumbling. Hands scraping for a grip as you slid across the tiles, struggling to beg for release and relief, your legs were cramping on you as your high was near. You could feel the second wave of pressure tightening in your core, but your hands were busy pushing against his abdomen to slow his sinful thrusts. All Manwë did was ignore and pressed on harder. If you could walk after, it would be Eru feeling sympathetic towards the mess you would become.

Your fucked out face and brain couldn’t comprehend a thing other than the rough pounding your godly lover was gifting. It was beyond a gift and dream to be trapped under the stature of a deity like the Elder King. To this moment, you still couldn’t wrap your head around the notion of following along with his wishes. You were supposed to leave him in solidarity, not join him in fucking you senseless. Either way, the latter was proving to be the greatest life-changing moment.

“I can feel you...you’re close. Look at how she squeezes me, she wants my cum. She wants me to fill her up. Your cunt knows that she desires my seed,” the heavenly ghosting of his lips against the shell of your ears melted every last restraint and fibre of being you were made up of. The suction your lips had on his cock, refusing to let him go and tugging him back to coat more cream over his cock was heart-warming.

“P-Please My King don’t stop. Please f-fill me up,” you cried out to him at the last minute before you felt your walls seizing up and breaking down. The waterfall that burst through bested the one he had in his pool as you sprayed your release all over his abdomen, initiating a sinister growl from his chest. The look of awe and lust as he looked on at your mess prompted him to pick you up and sit you on his lap, bouncing you on his cock and fucking you through your orgasm. He had no remorse for stopping and giving you time to recuperate; he’d fuck you into another orgasm until your brain could take no more.

“I’m not stopping until you cum again for me darling, let me have a taste of you all over my cock. Go ahead and make a mess...I'll fuck you until I'm ready to stop, and I'm far from finished...”

His words made your heart leap for joy but also prompted every noise that slipped past your lips to become whiney. Being fucked senseless by a Godly being was a dream and wish come through. There was nothing that could wake you from this experience or that you would allow to interrupt your 'being fucked to perfection' session. Whimpering like you were also in heat, your King's name tumbled from your lips along with the most delirious statements that would never escape were you anywhere sober. But to Manwë, he wanted you to let loose and become one with him, he didn't care about how whiney or pathetically broken your cries and pleas was. All that mattered was that his mate was enjoying the pleasure he gave.

Riding your tiny figure on his cock, arms gripping your thighs and moving you up and down, you could feel the change in his girth the faster he guided you. The base of his cock was swelling with his seed, and it urged him you fuck you faster. Listening as you babbled for his cum, begging for him to stuff you full, placed a smile on his face. The more you cried, the further he sunk you down his cock, forcing the knot at the base of his cock to slip in. You weren’t aware of what was happening as the knot slipped in until the expansion began. A quick scramble as pain shot through you as your entrance widened around his cock but Manwë was too busy seductively tossing his head back to moan, feeling his release nearing.

“M-Manwë...” tossing your own head back as you squirmed at the growing knot, he was still bouncing you it and attempting to fuck you into another orgasm as promised. He was closer than you, the grips on your waist and sporadic thrusts screamed his release was near.

Your eyes widened before they rolled inwards at the volume of cum he pumped into you. A whorish like moan fell from your lips as you caved into his embrace. It was hot as it filled your insides like some dessert. He was stuffing you over the edge and leaving you satisfied. The growing bulge in your lower abdomen, a mixture of cock and cum, was round and swollen and still rising. Any second again and you could have sworn that you would pop.

A throaty moan was sung through the air as his cum offloaded into your womb. His right hand slipped off your waist to press against. Your eyes rolled back inside your head at the extra growing sensation prompting your body to convulse and tremble profusely. The plug-like knot at the base grew until it felt stuck to ensure that not one ounce of his cum escaped. However, it was the expansion of your muscles around the knot that urged you to cry out, catching Manwë's attention.

The air between then and now shifted to the aftermath of the storm as Manwë eyes softened at your discomfort and were quick to tug you into his arms, rubbing your back. “Shush, shush, I know, I know little dove. It hurts and I’m sorry for causing you pain. It was not my intention,” he cooed into your wet hair, cheeks pressed against it and inhaling his scent that now mingled among yours.

His wings couldn’t help but appear at that moment, puffed and white, encasing you both as he held you close to him, shutting out the rest of the world. For years he’s been wanting to claim you as his. Watching and yearning for you during his heats, lying like his herald and claiming to go on trips to the mountains during spring all because he was fearful of scaring you into a level of commitment that required time and effort.

“It h-hurts,” you still cried into his chest feeling like a child clinging to his massive form. Your voice snapped him out of his paradise and caused small tears to build in the corner of his eyes. Soft coos and pats to your back and head were delivered as Manwë attempted to soothe the burning stretch of his knot. He tried to shift his hips slowly, grinding your lips around his knot to flex the muscles so accommodation could be more comfortable. Manwë knew that it was a relief to have you here, but it was also a mistake, his heat was still four more days to go. You being here meant never leaving until he was finished, and even then, the urge to build a nest and keep you safe and secure was important. You were trapped with your bird lover for weeks.

“I’m sorry you had to experience this for your first time little dove, I don’t know what came over me. You were just so...” instead of finishing off his statement, not wanting to seem so easily swooned, Manwë opted to let his words fall and continue to comfort you.

“Manwë...what's happening?” your small voice rang out to him while you resisted the urge to cry out. His body had stopped pumping cum into you and now it was simply his mixture relaxing in your womb.

“…Uh, how do I put this. You know, I have wings and avian tendencies...and like birds, I experience most of their habits like this one,” he was biting his nails and clawing at his brain explaining this to you. It felt like explaining how babies are created to a child.

“This? What do you mean by this Manwë? I’m not following,” lifting your head off his chest, you peered at him with doe eyes, glossy and innocent as if he didn’t rearrange your insides minutes ago.

Huffing and puffing, his wings couldn’t help but curl in closer to keep you from escaping should the response frighten you, “What we just did little dove was...mate. I mated with you the way birds do during spring. I bonded with you...for life.” His fell and silence took over the room. The only sounds were the merry chirping of the birds, singing about the union and rustling waters in the pool. Your breathing was quiet as was his as you remained seated in his lap. His feathers were tense and shut as he awaited some negative outburst knowing that you were a person who preferred to be told things beforehand.

“Oh,” you grinned at him before dipping your head to look at where you two were connected and blushed. The way he was perfectly nestled and lodged had you questioning your abilities. Since when you could take a cock that big?

“I love you; you know that. I love you with all that I am,” his large hands rose to cup your face and lifted it to meet his lips. Small pecks across your face he littered while letting out small coos of joy and contentment. Your laughter and squeals could be heard through the affectionate gesture.

“I believe we should clean up first though,” you stated while interrupting his affections.

“Clean up? Why should we clean up?” there was a distinctive shift in his voice as it changed from Manwё to his predatory side.

“Because we’re sweaty and I’m...you know, filled with your cum,” your voice dipped and lowered at the last part, afraid of any birds picking up on the conversation.

Leaning forward with a lustful smirk playing on his lips, Manwë easily removed himself off the floor with you still in his arms and walked over to the bed on the opposite side of the room. Ever so gently, he climbed onto the bed and laid himself on his back while you straddled his hips. Hands sprawled out on his chest while his knees crooked upwards, Manwë stared at you with hunger in his eyes before spreading, “If you’re so worried about being stuffed with my cum, I’ll just fill you with more because we aren’t leaving this room anytime soon.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @starborne066 @singleteapot @cilil @edensrose

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yandere-ainur-confessions · 1 year

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❪ ♡ ❫ ── 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 , “ no one would believe you ,’

the benevolent. the kind. these are ways that many would describe the elder king. and oh, he makes sure to remind you of it whenever you try to act up. to keep you with him and reliant on him — him alone.

“where will you go, darling?” he'd croon, curling some of your hair along the crux of his finger as he leans in with his usual smile. the same one you had come to associate with a master of lies, a two-faced deceiver.

“who would believe you? that I could be any of what you claim me to be?” manwë chuckles as he listens to your thrumming heart and pulls you closer, as if to dance. and as his hands and arms draw yours into position, he leans in to press a kiss against the racing pulse of your neck.

“they would all think you mad,” he begins to sway with you. “they would reject you, ridicule you. . .”

he spins and sways with you, until finally he dips you gently. his face above yours, cerulean hues bearing into your eyes as that same, deceptively sweet smile graces his lips whilst he leans closer to your ear. and with a low, honeyed voice, he whispers:

“you'd come running back to me.”

#·⊰ ꒰🥀꒱ 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔 ៸៸ manwë ─ ♡.#manwë #manwe #manwë x reader #manwe x reader #yandere!manwë #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #ainur #valar #tw yandere #tw dark content #yandere confessions

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dirty-ainur-confessions · 1 year

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as an eagle, Manwë is a bird of prey. I'm sure he loves to hunt his partner. . .

particularly during his heats. one might think that it is a kink he rarely indulges in, but during a time when his senses are flaring and all he can think about is fucking you into the very mattress, manwë finds that he is unable to control himself. especially around you, his darling mate.

he'll try to remain calm. to carry out his serene demeanour. but when he catches a whiff of your intoxicating scent he can hold back no longer. leaving his room in haste and making a beeline for wherever you were. in the gardens of ilmarin, so unsuspecting of your lover that would soon find himself flushing against you. trapping you against the pillar, whispering to your ear about how much he needs you.

it was the perfect opportunity to bring up the idea you both discussed, and the king was happy to agree. allowing you to scamper off whilst he bit back his need and the urge to force you down against the marble floors already. the hunt wouldn't last too long, but he'd certainly have your heart pounding. as he stalks for you as a bird of prey would.

and just when you least expect it; his beady, slit-pupil eyes would loom over you. his hand's around your throat and he's pressing you against the nearest piece of furniture he can manage. rutting against you like a depraved animal.

"I cannot take it anymore, little dove.'' manwë groans, barely able to halt the way his hips roll against yours. grinding his already-hardened cock against the softness of your flesh. panting against your ear, feeling you up with his large, gentle hands.

he wouldn't even care where the two of you are. be it out in the open or in a private room, manwë cannot stop himself from shoving your robes up and doing whatever he can to prep you for what is to come. and once he's in? he won't stop until he knows he's bred you to his liking. filling you up, marking you as his. grunting, groaning against your ear as his hips slap against the back of your thighs. holding you in a prone-bone position so that he can feel the entirety of your body against his. feel your cries and gasps as you cum all over his cock again and again.

"fuck, do you feel that princess? feel how well you take me?" he shudders, filling you up once more as his larger form trembles with yours. still, he refuses to stop. "that's it, darling. let me breed you until you're nice and full of me. . .''

#·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭 ៸៸ manwë ─ ♡.#manwë x reader #manwe #manwë súlimo #reader insert #the silmarillion #tolkien #smut #minors dni #ainur #valar #confessions

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 8 months

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May I have some Yandere Manwe and Yandere Irmo headcanons?

I must confess, I am still a bit lost when it comes to Deres, but I hope you like these all the same.

Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

Yandere Irmo will include:

Him dipping into your deepest thoughts and dreams without you even knowing. He will pry into every action, conversation, and meeting before making note of everyone you spoke to during the day.

This "need" to know will start from the beginning of him knowing you. This will continue long after you agree to be with him. Irmo justifies it as him protecting you and your interests.

If you ever learn of his spying on your thoughts and confront him, he will defend himself and insist he only does it for your own good, as you have no idea how much those others could hurt you.

What you don't know is that Irmo has even gone so far as to pry into the thoughts of those you interact with, searching for any crumbs he can find and use to his advantage.

He will take great care to show you the other person’s so-called dangerous thoughts, even fabricating false images after making use of his mastery over visions and dreams. He will then assert that this other other person is indeed harmful to you and convince you, little by little, to push that other person away from you.

"Do you see that, little moth?" He declares after showing you one conjured vision after another. "Do you see all the dark ways they fantasize about you while you carry out your tasks?"

Nothing gives him greater happiness than seeing his efforts have not gone to waste and that you agree with him.

“I am glad you agree with me, little moth,” he coos. “Now will you heed me and stay away from this person?”

Once you have successfully distanced yourself from that other person, Irmo will reward you greatly, especially granting whatever you desire during sex.

Yandere Manwë will include:

Him convincing you that everyone else will hurt and betray you, for he alone is free from evil and cannot comprehend it.

He will go on to insist that as the Elder King, he is duty-bound to protect you from all harm. Manwë will keep you within Ilmarin, confining you to the boundaries of its outer walls when you refuse to listen to him and try to leave.

“Come now, little dove, why do you need to leave me? Is a king not enough?” Manwë would grow glum and forlorn before gesturing to the slender towers and domes of the palace. “Is the magnificence of Ilmarin not enough?”

When you grow insistent on leaving, Manwë changes tactics. He will stop acknowledging you, ignoring you whenever you come upon him walking along paths and corridors, and even going so far as to ply you with guilt whenever you ask why he is doing all of this.

“How can I even look at you when you insist on leaving me,” he would lament. “And after everything I have done for you! Was your regard for me a lie?”

Manwë does not stop at mere words, however. He will find other ways to point out everything you would miss out on if you left him.

One of them would be to put you on a pedestal.

“Will anyone worship you like this little dove? Will anyone else treat you with complete adoration?”

Another way would be to get his attendants to play along.

“The king adores you like no other,” one attendant would say. “He looks at you like no one else exists,” another would say.

His words and actions soon have the desired effect. Manwë welcomes you with open arms when you come to him and declare that you will never leave him and that you are sorry for even thinking of leaving him. The king showers you with attention and riches beyond imagination as a reward.

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese @edensrose

#Dark! Manwë #Dark! Irmo #Yandere! Manwë #Yandere! Irmo #Irmo #Manwë #Irmo imagine #Manwë imagine #Irmo x reader #Manwë x reader #the silm #the silm imagine #the valar #the ainur #the silmarillion #manwë headcanon #Irmo headcanon #my headcanon

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ainur-interactions · 1 year

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"You are a little sparrow... The littlest one. My little baby sparrow." *kisses Manwë's nose*

the king practically beams, leaning in and taking all of your affection gladly. he shuts his eyes, bringing his head to nuzzle against your neck. “I'm your little sparrow.” he croons, pressing a peck to your cheek.

#·⊰ ꒰🌸꒱ 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ៸៸ manwë ─ ♡.#manwë #manwë súlimo #manwë x reader #manwe #manwe x reader #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #ainur #valar #valar x reader #interactions

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koyunsoncizeri · 1 year

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Silly lil doodle cuz I read these super sweet headcanons by @edensrose about how much Manwe would love chubby cheek reader!!!

#stop. I'm so soft for him.#manwë x reader #manwë #manwë súlimo #manwe sulimo #silmarillion #the silmarillion

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kiatheinsomniac · 1 year

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Hear me out. . . Possessive Manwë. Who just got the reader back from his brother ( they just so managed to pull her from corruption ) and it's their first night together in what seems like forever. He wants to be gentle and treat her like his queen but then he sees a scar ( idk on her side? ) done to her by none other than Melkor, putting the pieces together and well — just Manwë wanting to claim her again <3 I know you'll do this req justice doll💕

──── 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ˊˎ -

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: calling me doll and knowing it's my weakness so I'll write for you as if I wouldn't write for a bestie anyway smh hehehehe

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Manwë x Reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.8k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: NSFW content, MDNI, smut, possessiveness, soft to rough, fluff, possessive Manwë

Manwë had slept very little since your rescue from his brother. He and his soldiers had managed to save you just in time to spare you from corruption. You had suffered at the hands of Melkor and your sleep had become plagued with nightmares. Manwë felt rotten for not having saved you before you were made to endure so much pain and so he took it upon himself to stay awake and watch over you, to wake you should you show signs of having another nightmare. You had been through enough and did not deserve further torment from your own mind.

Eyes, dark blue to match the night sky outside, snapped towards you when you groaned slightly and turned onto your side. Your husband watched you for a moment, coming to the conclusion that you were just stirring slightly but still sleeping peacefully. Your arm fell over your chest and his eyes narrowed in the dim light as he looked upon your upper ribs at your side. Carefully, he reached out and brushed his fingers over your warm skin there, feeling the outdent of a scar. That had not been there before. Melkor had inflicted this upon you. White brows furrow over darkening eyes at the mental image of his brother putting his hands upon you, forcing pain upon you. You had been covered in bruises and scrapes when you had been rescued but this cut must have gone unnoticed with your arm to hide it so high up on your side.

If you were awake, you would have felt the tickle of Manwë’s long, white hair falling over your ribs and belly as he leaned down and sorrowfully pressed his lips to the scar. “My dove, I am so sorry…” His breath fanned across your skin and he turned his head to gaze up at your resting face. You would forever have to bear this reminder, this mark made by his brother’s blackened, tainted hands and that did not sit well with the King at all. His plush lips pressed to the spot more fervently and worked their way across your shoulder and to your jaw, hand coming to rest on your side while his thumb tenderly traced circles upon your skin.

“My love…?” You mumbled drowsily as you stirred awake. Your lashes fluttered and you squinted, closing one eye as you tried to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. There were always lanterns lit on the other side of the room to chase away the dark that had been your near constant company and torment in Melkor’s cells.

“I’m sorry, my dove.” He spoke quietly, you being unaware that he was repeating himself, “I…” His eyes searched yours for the right words as you opened them fully, the light no longer foreign to your vision. Instead, he let the sentence fall flat, his eyes landing on the scar once more as his hand on your waist slowly slid upwards to feel the mark beneath his gentle fingers.

“That…” You bit on your lip. You had not wanted Manwë to know about it. You had wanted to forget it was even there, it was in quite a hidden place after all, but it would seem that he had found it now. “I had escaped from the cell at one point… I’d managed to jam the lock in the door so it would seem locked. But unfortunate timing saw that I was caught and there was a bit of a scrap before I was taken back.” Manwë could feel the slight tremble in your fingers as they danced up across his chest and then began to play with his hair so that you had something else to do other than devote your whole focus to that terrible memory and it gave you an excuse to avoid eye contact, such a vulnerable thing that may well just see you burst out into sobs.

Your hands slid further up into his hair and your thumbs caressed his jaw as you finally met his eyes, letting the silence hang much more comfortably than any words could be in that moment. Your eyes fixed to his lips as you arched your back up towards him subconsciously, pulling him down gently in a silent request. Manwë’s hand covered the scar while his other reached up to cup your face, pressing his lips to yours in the sweetest embrace.

His kisses were comforting and all-encompassing. Your husband made you feel beyond safe in his arms and he left your mind no room to think of anything other than him as his hands began to roam your body, feeling your curves beneath his palms as he turned you on your back and hovered over you. You brought your legs up to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to your body and hearing him let out a quiet groan as you rolled your hips against his the moment his tongue pushed past your lips. One of his hands slowly fell to your thigh and ran up and down the length of your warm skin there. Your head fell back against the pillow and you let out a sweet sigh at the feeling of your lover’s mouth lavishing your neck with kisses, sucking and biting at your skin in a way that was sure to leave marks. You couldn’t help but unravel under his touch, feeling his hands roam over your body as your fingers tangled in long, white hair.

His lips trailed down to your collarbones and then your breasts. His hands squeezed and caressed your skin reverently and lavished your peaked buds in attention, assuring to mark your skin there too before removing further down your body. Your legs were pushed further apart by the time he was nipping at your inner thighs and he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your arousal just before running his tongue through your dampening slit, feeling your body jerk at the stimulation.

“It’s alright, pretty girl, I’ve got you…” He murmured as he pressed soft kisses to your slit, using a hand to spread you open as he explored your pussy lazily with his tongue. The small whines you let out were like music and he began to suck down on your clit, moving down to dip his tongue into your hole, tasting your wetness and groaning as he pushed his face further into you, his nose nudging at your clit. Rhythmically, you bucked your hips slightly against his face and he could hear how you were sucking in quick breaths between moans, could feel you squirming beneath him and suddenly you were shuffling up the bed and away from hm, hands curling around his biceps and pulling him up.

“Please?” Your voice was almost a whisper, “I want you, I need you, please?” You pulled his body over yours, feeling safe under his weight, under the heat festering beneath his skin. His hand cupped your face as he pressed his mouth to yours once again, making you taste yourself as he coaxed your lips apart and teased your tongue with his own.

“And you’ve got me.” He murmured comfortingly, “Just as I’ve got you…” You gasped slightly when his cock pressed to your entrance and began to push inside of you. Desperately, you pushed your hips back against his and released a drawn-out moan when you felt him sink into you. You had missed this sort of intimacy when you were away from him and now it only served to make you feel safer than ever as Manwë’s breath fanned over your neck and his arms wrapped around you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and fingers splayed across his back and shoulders, reaching down further to caress the base of his wings, feeling him shudder above you. His lips pressed lovingly to your neck as you caressed the soft feathers at the base of his wings, earning groans that were muffled against your throat as he set up a steady rhythm. One of his hands was placed beside your head so he could prop himself up enough to look at you beneath him: so beautiful and safe in his arms at last. He couldn’t imagine what his brother had put you through, the fear you must have been drowning in. His hand caressed over the ridge of the scar on your ribs once more and the mental image of his brother’s blackened hands on you stirred something within him. He wasn’t jealous, no, surely not? He thought. And yet he couldn’t help but feel the need to remind his brother, you, himself, the world, of whose you were, of who would never fail to keep you safe again.

He could feel the scrape of your nails against his alabaster skin as your thighs squeezed his hips, little whimpers and moans escaping your lips that he smothered in kisses as he became rougher. Your hands went further up to tangle in his pale hair as his mouth opened to adorn your neck in a string of bruises. When he withdrew to find you teary-eyed, he paused and kissed the salty water away from beneath your lashes.

“Is this alright?” He asked softly, hoping that he wasn’t overwhelming you.

“Don’t you dare stop.” You whispered back, pulling him down into a messy kiss and swallowing the moan he let out as he angled your hips upwards in his strong hands and drove into you. The silence in the room was filled with muffled sounds of pleasure, loud kisses and the pap of Manwë’s hips against yours, drawing out obscene squelches from your soaked cunt. You kept your legs wrapped around him and revelled in the way he pinned your smaller body beneath you, the way his white hair and fluffy wings draped over you and shielded you from the world, kept you safe in the embrace of the entirety of his body. The hand over the scar upon your robs trailed down until his thumb was teasing your clit and it didn’t take much more before you were coming around his cock, the spasming and fluttering of your walls around him triggering his own release, making him let out a loud moan followed by a few faint whimpers when, at last, he stopped and the two of you remained in the other’s embrace, Manwë’s hands soothing your body while yours gently combed through slightly tangled hair.

Your lover leaned up just enough to see the red marks across your throat and chest that would surely darken, your flushed face and his eyes roved downwards to where his cum was leaking out around where your bodies met. You were his. He had you and he would keep you safe, would help you to heal and would be there to assure you never had to suffer again.

He rested his head against your chest as the two of you stayed there like that, catching your breaths.

He had you.

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ainur-confessions · 2 years

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❪ ♡ ❫ ── manwë | sleeping

manwë is big on holding you in his arms while the two of you drift off. more often than not he prefers to have you rested on his chest while he lays on his back.

why?

well do you know what else is big? manwë. he's tall, ranging from about 8 - 9ft so what happens when he is halfway through his seventh dream and he accidentally rolls the two of you in such a way that suddenly you're being crushed beneath him, hmm?

of course he doesn't do it intentionally. but damn are you left smothered by feathers, fluffy hair and silken robes by the end of it.

#·⊰ ꒰🎐꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 ៸៸ manwë ─ ♡.#manwë #manwë x reader #manwe #manwe x reader #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #valar #ainur #imagines

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cilil · 11 months

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𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞!𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒾𝓇𝓈

Characters: Manwë, Varda, Oromë, Námo and Irmo; reader's gender is unspecified - all up to your imagination~

Featuring: Dom/sub dynamics/undertones, predator/prey kink, soul sex

Warnings: Possessive themes, bit of rough foreplay and sex, smut/suggestive

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who voted on my recent polls. I'll be trying out a bit of a new format, combining headcanons with small scenes/imagines, with this one and hope you'll find it enjoyable. If there are other characters you'd like to see for this, feel free to suggest and keep an eye out for future polls!♡

Manwë

ଘ The Elder King is a romantic lover and enjoys courting you, though even during these early stages he finds ways to subtly claim you for himself: He showers you with gifts like jewellery with sapphires (his signature gemstone), robes in his colours, objects decorated with feathers or bird-shaped items and writes poetry for you which he recites and sings for you both in private and in public.

ଘ Once Manwë has successfully conquered your heart, he makes sure to publicly display his affection for you by making you sit on his lap, kissing you and wrapping his wings around you at every opportunity.

ଘ In the bedroom, little remains of Manwë's calm, serene demeanour. He loves marking your body with his talons, covering you in love bites and engaging in breath play to make you feel just how much you need his element - need him.

ଘ Manwë has a breeding kink that gets particularly strong when he's in heat or nearing it and loves filling you up to make sure that his essence remains inside you as long as possible and his scent stays on you, deterring any other suitors from approaching you.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Your lips part to release a soft gasp when Manwë pulls you closer and presses open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck, biting and sucking gently to leave blossoming marks. His mighty talons draw patterns on the naked skin of your back, causing you to arch and lean into his embrace; he is careful not to hurt you, though you already know you will be covered in thin red lines once he's done with you.

"My little dove," Manwë croons between kisses, his voice deceptively soft; he caresses you like a warm, gentle breeze, though you know a mighty storm is slumbering underneath his calm exterior, ready to be unleashed, should anyone else attempt to touch what is his.

"Yours," you whisper. Your hands claws at his robes as Manwë continues to mark you as his for all to see; the Elder King's mate and lover that no other would ever dare to lay claim to.

Varda

✧ The Queen of Stars is often absent from the daily affairs of Valinor in favour of tending to her creations in the depths of Eä, but she makes sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to even when she's not present.

✧ Varda loves giving you pretty necklaces, bracelets and other jewellery adorned with charms that are filled with her starlight, protecting you and burning anyone who attempts to touch you without her permission.

✧ When she makes love to you, she ensures that you will remember her touch and others see the marks she left on you as will - in case anyone was doubting that you are hers - by painting luminous constellations on your skin with her fingers, twinkling little stars reminiscent of notes in a song of her love for you.

✧ Varda also gives you water from her wells to drink, enjoying the thought of her essence filling you and providing you with light and refreshment. She will stop at nothing to make sure the powers of darkness and evil stay far away from you.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Hold still, my little light," the Queen orders, pushing you down and into the soft sheets of her bed with gentle authority.

You blink nervously when you see the tip of her index finger glowing with sacred, primordial light, ready to paint the canvas of your bare chest with tiny, glittering stars.

"Will it hurt?"

Varda smiles and leans down to kiss your brow. "Of course not. There is no evil in your heart, dearest; my light would never hurt you."

Her starlit touch is hot, and for a moment you fear it'll sear your skin, but as soon as she begins caressing you, reminiscent of the gentle strokes of a paintbrush, the sensation changes to a comfortable heat. You raise your head to watch as she turns you into another one of her masterpieces, and your beloved Queen looks pleased whenever her nimble fingers elicit small noises from you, her luminous eyes holding your gaze while she slowly works her way lower and lower.

Oromë

♘ Oromë is a hunter with all his heart, so once he has caught you, he certainly won't let anyone take away his favourite prey. He loves giving you trophies from his hunting trips to wear as accessories, a not-so-subtle message to all that you now belong to him.

♘ But that won't satisfy him for too long. The huntsman of the Valar is a wild and passionate lover and covers you in bite and scratch marks every time he takes you, making sure they are visible too.

♘ Oromë loves all sorts of cuddling and physical affection and actively initiates it whenever an opportunity presents itself. While this is certainly done for his and your enjoyment, he also wants others to see that you are his and his alone and ensure that his scent will be all over you even when he isn't around, in order to ward off unwanted attention from other suitors. For the same reason, he also breeds you thoroughly.

♘ If you are a good little pet for him, Oromë will reward you with a lovely collar he made specifically for you, letting everyone know that he has claimed you and intends to keep you.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Oromë's large hands hold on to your hips with a strong, bruising grip that has you whining into the moss below. You already know not to expect mercy whenever you play his favourite game of hunting and catching his prey, a symbolic earning of his right to claim you.

"What a lovely little deer," Oromë purrs and leans forward to bite the juncture between your neck and shoulder while he enters you with the fierce determination of a feral beast.

Your cries and moans only spur him on to thrust deeper and harder, his hands keeping you in place with the strength and steadiness of an experienced hunter. As far as you know, you two are alone in this part of his woods, yet something tells you that he wouldn't mind if one of the other hunting parties found you – to see him taking you, marking you, filling you with his seed to ensure that his scent you be on you for days to come.

Námo

☯ The mark of a Fëantur may be subtle, though no less intense than those visible on your skin. Once Námo has taken you as his lover, he binds your fëa to his, leaving an echo of his song and a ghost of his touch with you wherever you go. Those proficient in ósanwe and/or attuned to spiritual matters feel the Doomsman's presence wherever you go, no more than one call through your bond away.

☯ Nevertheless, Námo knows that not all Incarnates are able to sense and heed his silent warning, so he also presents you with clothes and jewellery to adorn your body. He likes long, flowing robes in dark colours, veils and little charms shaped like crows and ravens, similar to his own attire, and greatly enjoys seeing you wearing those, an unmistakable sign of belonging to him.

☯ When he isn't present and you are outside of his halls, Námo may occasionally guide your fate in whichever way he sees fit to make sure you return safely. Those who attempt to harm you will face the Doomsman's wrath.

☯ Yet as much as he wishes to protect you, Námo wants nothing more than to own and mark you in the most intimate way possible - which is your fëa. Should you ever be slain, or once his need and longing overwhelm him, he will whisk you away to Mandos, keep you there until the end of the world and fill your spirit with his song and essence time and time again until you know no other than him.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Cool lips kiss the nape of your neck when Námo takes you, slowly and deliberately, enjoying the way your smaller form trembles in his arms. He's sitting on his throne with you on his lap, your robes covering the illicit image of the Master of Fate penetrating you, yet the small moans falling from your lips and the movement of his hips betray the truth.

"Let me have you," Námo whispers, and you know he wants more than to claim just your body, so you open your mind to him as well.

The sensation of his fëa reaching out to touch and intertwine with yours is just as intense as the joining of your bodily forms. Your helpless noises increase in volume despite your best efforts to hold back, yet Námo doesn't seem to mind – in fact, you begin to suspect that he wants the residents of Mandos to look up at his throne and watch, so they will know who you belong to for all ages to come.

Irmo

☾ No one has escaped the loving arms of the Lord of Dreams without remnants of glittering dream dust on their clothes and skin, and you are certainly no exception, quite the contrary: As Irmo's favourite little butterfly, he makes sure to touch, embrace and cuddle you to his heart's content, and ever since your courtship started, you feel like the dream dust has never left you again. He feigns innocence, yet you suspect that this is very much his intention, so everyone can see his touch upon you even when he isn't around.

☾ Irmo crafts a special dream catcher for you and makes sure you wear it at all times, an unmistakable sign of his love for you. It contains a small part of himself and his power, and he taps into it to ward off nightmares.

☾ He also likes entering your dreams, spending time with you there and, most importantly, ensuring that no other suitors may ever find their way there, because you belong to him and him alone. When you sleep in his gardens, you often wake up feeling his lips and hands kissing and caressing your body, leaving trails of dream dust and, at times, colourful patterns on your skin.

☾ As much as he enjoys claiming your body, he desires nothing more than to possess you in spirit as well, so that the union of your fëar leaves a permanent mark on your very being, filling you with his song and his essence.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Here? In the middle of your garden?"

Irmo merely laughs in response and rolls you over on your back to climb on top of you, his iridescent butterfly wings fluttering excitedly.

"Why not, my darling petal? Is our love not the fairest and most beautiful thing my garden has ever seen?"

Glittering dream dust falls from his wings and hair as he leans forward to kiss you, and you soon find yourself feeling both soothed and excited by his presence and the comfortable weight of his fána on top of you.

Sensing your emotions, Irmo's gentle hand sneaks between your legs and finds you willing and eager for him, ready to be taken. He breaks the kiss to gaze at your face, delighting in your blushing cheeks, half-lidded eyes and parted, wet lips, panting softly as you look up at him.

"I will make love to you until you fall asleep in my arms," Irmo whispers, "and when you do, I will continue to make love to you in your dreams."

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edensrose · 1 year

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ㅤㅤㅤ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 ❜࿔

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ ainur⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. what happens when the ainur catch you indulging yourself? ( minors dni ៸៸ sexual content ៸៸ explicit descriptions ៸៸ dirty talk ៸៸ fingering ៸៸ cunnilingus ៸៸ penetrative sex ៸៸ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ៸៸ overstimulation ៸៸ edging ៸៸ use of aphrodisiacs ៸៸ nicknames ៸៸ orgasm denial )

· ⊰ note. oh this has been awhile in the making, enjoy<3

.°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ the admirers. 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 , 𝒊𝒓𝒎𝒐 , eönwë, 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆.

he's absolutely taken aback by you. the way your head hangs, the way your back arches so that your breast jutt out and give him the perfect view of your body overall. how you play with your little clit and breathe out for him. the second he hears his name he's inching closer and revealing himself to you. shushing your embarrassment and pleading that you let him help — let him touch you, adore you, worship you. how could you refuse?

"You're so beautiful, my little dove." He croons, bringing a thumb to replace your trembling fingers. He flicks the pad over your clit, rubbing in motions he knows damn well will have you whimpering for him.

"And to think you were doing all this by yourself? Why not ask me to take care of you?" Manwë dips his head to press kisses along your jawline as he fondles your needy pearl. He chuckles at your meek bucks into his hand. "Aren't you a darling little thing?" That is all it takes before he's joining you upon the bed. Face buried between your legs. Eating you out as though you were the finest of delicacies to his divine lips. Having you cum on his tongue until you are squirming from overstimulation. “Can you give me another?” He groans, burying his face deeper and moaning against your sweetness as he grinds his own hips against the sheets. “One more princess. One more for me.’’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒊𝒓𝒎𝒐.

he could practically feel your desire before he even entered the room — but oh, nothing prepared him for the sight of you. your desperate little rutting into your pillow, the quiet, breathy moans. he could sense it all: your need, your heat, and most of all. . . how it was him that you desired. he couldn't help but find himself over you, pressing kisses to your neck to let you know it was just him before whispering to your ear all the things he was going to do to you.

"Such need, my petal. You are practically dripping." Irmo's lips feel hot on your skin as his fingers trace small patterns. Seeking to worship your body. He begins with your chest, his tongue circling your nipples. He'd chuckle at your little whines and begs for more — but he wouldn't let up. Not until your desire was pouring from you.

"You want me to touch you? Hmm?" His croon is soft as his kisses trail down, pressing against your quivering thighs. Two delicate fingers swipe up along your slit, and he smiles at your eagerness. "That's it, my pretty petal." His tongue nestles against your clit and he groans at your taste as he pushes both fingers into your quivering walls. "Give in to all those filthy desires. . . And all for me."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒆.

admittedly he was quite surprised when he came home after a long day of work to find you sprawled out and playing with your needy clit. after he got over the small guilt of leaving you waiting, arousal brimmed within him and he couldn't help but watch your little show. something cruel within him loved the way you whined and struggled to find your release. knowing good and well that just a few of his touches would send you off the edge. you needed him. which is why he made himself known — by replacing your hand with his.

"I suppose my dawn grew too desperate, hmm?" Eönwë smiles at the way you gasp his name and wastes no time in rubbing his calloused fingers along your trembling slit. He joins you on the bed, kneeling beside your bare form and gazing upon you with the eyes of a hawk. Hungry, lustful, as he leans over you to bring your faces closer.

"Oh sweetheart, you know that only I —" he bites back a groan as he pushes a finger into your heat and feels your wetness. " — can fuck this needy little cunt just right," his whisper fans against your lips and rewards you with both a carnal, fevered kiss and another finger that curls right into your sweet spot.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏.

nothing is better than coming home after a long shift of steering the moon, only to find you all desperate and riding his pillow with meek little moans and hushed gasps. he knew good and well how needy you could get with his shifts, and it sparks excitement within him like no other. he watches you, knowing that he is the reason for your state, before eagerly taking your thighs into his large hands and giving them a squeeze as he grinds his clothed crotch against your ass. whispering to your ear about how he's back to ruin this needy little hole.

"Fuck, you're amazing," breath fanning your heated ear, Tilion muffles your mewl but shoving your face into the softness of the pillow that you once chased your release upon. It is rendered a mere object for you to cling to as your lover ruins you as promised. Back flushed to yours, lips worshipping your skin and of course — his pounding cock that splits you in two and has your body thumping against the bed with each of his overly eager thrusts.

"Mm, that feel good, dear?" He pants as the arm loops around your waist brings his hand between your legs to abuse your clit. " — fuck," he groans against your ear, his deer ears twitching as he buries his head into the crook of your neck and inhales your scent. "Gonna. . . nhh, fuck this needy little hole until my next shift, eh? Gonna leave you dripping with me."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

.°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ the sadists. 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒚 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓, oromë, 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐.

oh, he is so mean. he doesn't even seem the least bit surprised when he finds you in such a state. chasing after your high aimlessly as you buck and grind into the pillow below you. whining his name, pleading the fantasy-him for some kind of relief. it certainly was a daydream, he notes. for if it were the real him — he would have had his fun with you in this state first and foremost.

Your little complaint is greeted by a brief spank to your thigh, causing you to whimper and limp further into the doomsman — your little ruts faltering in the slightest. "Now, where's all that enthusiasm? You'd rather a pillow over me?" Námo clicks his tongue, grabbing your chin so that you face him whilst you meekly grind into his lap.

"You can do better than that, little one." He notes, eyeing how your fluttering slit soaks the material his robes — perfectly pressing against his tent. "What's that?" His voice lowers, a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he chuckles and grabs your hips, digging his nails into the softness of his flesh. "You wish to cum? Grind faster then."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓.

the dark lord has a particular rule that he would rather you follow. only he is allowed to touch you. but he knows well that you engaging in this sort of pleasure is merely a ploy of getting him to prove who your body belongs to. to fuck you into a state of devastating bliss. so you know what? that's not what he'll give you. oh no, all you will be left with is regret the second his voice found your ear and you registered the tight grip on your hair.

"What's that?" Is all your whines are met with as you curl your fingers further into dark robes. Burying your face into his chest and inhaling his scent. Every stutter of your hips is greeted by a harsh smack to your thigh, causing you to limp further into him as he leans against the iron throne. You sit in his lap, full of his cock, yet no friction at all. And unable to take it for yourself either.

"Aww," Melkor croons, stroking a tear away from your cheek as you cry out to him in need. "What's that? My needy little slut wants to cum?" Icy lips ghosting yours, he breathes a chuckle before leaning back and placing his arms on the throne's rests. "Too bad. You're gonna sit there full of my cock until I say so. And not a second sooner."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆.

you were doing this to spite him, he knew. he had denied you in favour of his hunting trip, so of course you would sprawl yourself out on his bed, on full display should he walk through the door whilst you finger yourself. mess his sheets. oh, he won't let you get away with it. he'll take his time, bring you to the edge only to leave you whining and clinging to his hair as he devours you like a starved animal.

The ceiling became a mixture of blurs and hazes as your eyes threaten to loop back into your head. Lewd noises from below are exaggerated, stirring your arousal even further. Your head limps, you gasp, pant, squirm — all whilst tugging on white hair and begging for the high that you tittered the edge of. His tongue alternates with his fingers between your clit and slit. Your legs are tossed over his shoulders as he brings stars into your very vision.

"Close, little deer?" He groans against your cunt, his slitted pupils glancing at you through his white lashes as his nails dig into your thighs. You nod, beg, clinging further onto his messy tresses in hopes that he'll give you what you want. But your teary eyes are met with a smirk as he pulls away at the last minute, spanking your thigh as you whine out your disappointment. "Did you think I'd just give you everything, little deer? Bad little sluts don't get to cum." Before returning once more.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏.

he'll just use it as an excuse to punish you. anything to have his way with you and get you squirming for him. calling his name as you desperately try to coax him into letting you cum. begging him to use you as he pleases if it means getting what you want. especially after he's left you tied up with one of his newest aphrodisiacs wrecking your body.

"Can't hear you, precious." Dark nails curl your hair into a fistful as his hips continue their onslaught. Refusing to let up even as you squirm on his lap or limp into him and plead for his mercy. Plead for a break from the endless orgasms he's pushed you through.

"Tired already? Wasn't it you that begged me to let you cum?" Mairon grasps your jaw in his hand and twists your head so that you are forced to look up at him — all whilst ramming into that devastating spot again and again. "Oh no, precious. We had a deal. I get to use this body until you can't take anymore." He leans into your ear with a cruel smirk tugging to his lips. "Now shut that pretty little mouth of yours and cum for me again."

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doodle-pops · 1 year

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Manwë Discovering Your Lightning Scars

Request: Hello Mina! How are you going? I hope you’re well 💕 May I please request a fic or headcannon for Manwë or Namo x reader who has lightning strike scars? She (or Gn!) has lightning patterned scars across and down her shoulders and up her neck, nothing crazy, maybe a pale red color but definitely noticeable. It can be something like the story of how she got them or insecurities if a fic. If headcannons then just their general reactions and things in headcannons I guess? Thank you! - Anon

A/N: A pleasure to fulfil your request dearie. I did an all-in-one with the request, meshing both the headcanon and short imagine because I still could not decide between a headcanon and a fic. I also took an angst route with this >.<

·⊰ When Manwё discovers his lover has lightning scars, he would be a mixture of awe, terror and confusion. If you had managed to be struck by lightning, then it was a miracle you survived such a violent interaction.

·⊰ Being marvelled at the gorgeous patterns intricately dancing and interwoven across the expanse of your back, his hands would lightly ghost your skin. There is a part of him itching to touch the red spider-like veins, but he’s also petrified, believing that they would cause pain if he were to.

·⊰ His face would falter when he learned that you were insecure about your scars, always covering up and never wearing any clothing article that revealed the slightest skin. Giving small praise as his eyes fell on your scars and creating poetic phrases as he went along.

·⊰ Feeling as though he had some part to play in your accident, he would begin to apologise for mistakenly losing control or releasing a lightning storm so absentmindedly without being aware of anyone around who could possibly be struck.

·⊰ Eyes growing soft and heartstrings tugging, he's determined to get you to love yourself and see your beautiful. Along the way, he'd make a mental note to have more garments designed to show off or highlight the beauty of your skin.

·⊰ Manwё would consider you blessed and gift you a name signifying how lucky and blessed you were at the same time. But knowing the Elder King, since lightning were an extension of him and his abilities, he would also feel guilty.

·⊰ His heart would clench at the idea of him being responsible for your scars even though you would explain to him that it was your fault for running outside in the middle of a lightning storm precariously.

·⊰ But it doesn’t matter how much you preach to the Elder King that he wasn’t to feel guilty or to be blamed, his ability to feel immense levels of empathy and sympathy for others would urge him to behave apologetically. In his heart, he believes that he has some part to play in the incident.

·⊰ As his lover, you would have to spend a copious time holding his face within your hands, stroking his over his worrisome features and attempting to straighten them out. “Manwё, my sweet radiant love, please. I am well and I do not hold you accountable— it’s my clumsy self.”

·⊰ Your worrying King would perhaps crumble into your arms feeling distressed because you had no idea that lightning storms only occurred when he was enraged. So your lightning scars were an outcome of a moment he was having over his brother’s despicable actions.

·⊰ Poor you still hadn’t understood why he was so apologetic and constantly hugging you while crying into your hair.

“Manwё? What are telling me?” you whimpered as the words fell from his lips while he buried his face into your hair. The arms that were snaked around your waist had tightened, terrified of you running away and abandoning him after learning the truth. He hadn’t meant to; you weren’t even a target. A simple outcome of anger— losing control in the spur of the moment— and his rage came crashing upon the earth in a series of violent intricate patterns. Striking the earth furiously for every action his brother precariously displayed.

Breathing shakily, the Elder King's muffled voice cried out, “I’m sorry for harming you my dove. I truly did not mean to injure you or take your life. Forgive me please.”

His words took time to register within your mind and when they did, your eyes widened in horror at what they meant. Despite the horror on your face and the skip in your heartbeat, your mind sang a different song to you, ‘He didn’t mean it Y/N’. You knew the Elder King would never bring harm to you purposefully, but hearing that an injury you gained was a result of his losing control, you found it alarming. “I…don’t blame you Manwё, it was an accident— a life-threatening one, but I don’t hate you. I’m alive, a survivor,” you consoled with small rubs and pats to the King’s back and head.

Withdrawing from your embrace while keeping his arms around your waist, he raised his head to be at your level. His stormy blue eyes gazed into yours with the utmost sympathy and concern, apologies were written across his crinkled face. “I never thought that I would truly injure someone with my…unruly outburst. I’m always careful, I always remember to be careful,” he whimpered. You could feel his fingers pressing into your lower vertebrate, careful not to touch the areas where the scars were present. It was no mistake that you felt his hesitancy to touch his accident.

“My love, my sweet ĕrĕmelda,” you cupped his face in your smaller hands, “even if you created the lightning storm, it was me being clumsy and running outside to only be struck. Blame not yourself.” You then leaned in to bump noses against the other and brought him in for a kiss.

“…You are right, I shouldn’t worry so greatly…” his voice then fell into silence before piquing up in confusion, “but why did you run outside in the middle of a lightning storm?”

Fumbling with your response, you cautiously laughed at the foolish reason for the result of your injury. You knew he'd stare at you as though you grew five heads. “. . .Well, um. . .I wanted to see the lightning storm up close. . .” you softly mumbled, fiddling with your thumbs, “it was just me being clumsy.”

Staring at you flabbergasted, the Elder King didn't know if to reprimand you or remain silent. Gripping your shoulders and giving you a firm shake, he commanded with concern in his tone, “You are staying inside during all lightning storms. In fact, you're stay inside during any flashy event. . .for your own good!”

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and-the-stars-collided · 1 year

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Ainur as Aesthetics:

Melkor — eye-rolls, either sleep for the week or sleep is for the weak, great music taste, extremely passionate, smarter than you'd think, abandoned cities, alcohol, doesn't care about opinions, midnight hours, black coffee, hates humanity, cold hands, barely-there eyeliner, sharp smiles, lace-up boots, doesn't like to be told what to do, anger so blinding that you forget where and who you are, staring at the mirror until your features start to disappear, bad decisions, their words can hit you like a gunshot, the chilling sensation of metal on your skin, sharp claws ready to slash anyone they encounter, shattered antique mirrors, long dark scarves, dark and tousled hair, swallowing hard, a little broken.

Manwë — pale white snow, red cheeks, dried flowers that used to be the colour of the sun, quiet half-smiles, sunlight coming through an open window in the morning, hair tucked behind ears, gives the most thoughtful gifts, always neat, sparkly jewellery, beautiful poetry, comforting hugs, light footsteps, kisses on cheeks, a laugh like wind chimes, thunderstorms that you feel in your chest, intelligent eyes, collector of small objects, windswept hair, loves their friends with almost an unhealthy amount of loyalty, the colour of the sky at dusk, a crisp autumn breeze, soft hair, gold-flecked souls, the one who is there for you even when you think you don't need them, singing under their breath, smiles as the rain falls down and laughs as their hair lifts in the breeze.

Varda — cracked spines of leather-bound classics, sharing pieces of your soul with the world, starting revolutions with simple words, rosewater, cherry blossom petals floating through the wind, making promises, midnight conversations, writing into abysmal nothingness, stargazing, knowing smiles, doesn't open up easily, soft skin, crystals, a night where the clouds hide the moon, stories swirling in your mind, cursive letters, piercing eyes, whispers filled with secrets, studying things that do not exist, bright flashes of light outside your window, silk bedsheets, mysterious, handwritten notes, stays up so late it's early, plays quiet music for ambiance, fingertips stained with ink.

Ulmo — bodies full of stories, a will that ebbs and flows, lazy smiles, no real devotion to anything but existence itself, wordless lullabies, glassy blue eyes, moves with grace and rhythm, late night swims, blue tie dyed sheets, flowing outfits, the rough ocean at night, tall waves and bitter winds, salty hair, long limbs, kind of sad and tired but you've never see them cry, goes with the flow, quiet voice but loud meaning, walks with purpose, always looks their best, very kind and giving, seashells, loud laughter, perfect posture, habit of overthinking, bare feet, ice-cold lemonade, laying on the ground to soak up the sun, sand in the air, intricate designs, high ceilings, dim lights, bitten nails.

Aule — confident, likes to perform, acts cool but is secretly emotional underneath, bold/dark colours, loves challenges, gets mad and forgives just as quickly, wouldn't change for anyone, laughing so loudly that strangers stare at you, running around like crazy person with your lover, compliments a stranger's crazy hair colour and feeling so good when they smile, unhealthy amounts of candy, fiery red sunsets, getting back up after being knocked down, they know that their friends are right behind them wherever they go, the burn in your lungs after chasing something you'll never be able to catch, always does their own thing.

Yavanna — warm days, soft smiles, making sure everyone is happy, walking barefoot, falling asleep in the sun, wishes everyone would be kinder, mugs of too-sweet tea, the person who screams don't kill the spider, adores animals, covered in freckles, one can never quite tell exactly what their eye colour is, pointing to the stars as they peek out from behind the clouds, large yawns early in the morning, a question left unanswered, honey, one hand catching another, tea that is swallowed for its warmth and not the taste, faded patterns on well-loved t-shirts, dew beading on flower petals, the imprints tight socks leave behind, wanderlust's yearning pull.

Orome — long hair, loves nature and animals, mist, sharp features, dirt under their fingernails, very down to earth, always willing to help, the strong friend, always has new, interesting facts to tell, tough as all hell, doesn't love easily but always loves deeply, walking barefoot everywhere, wildflowers threaded into messy braids, laying in the afternoon sun, big adventures, crisp air, deeply opinionated, climbing the tallest trees around, muddy feet, toothy smiles, accepting of everyone, follows their own path, stargazing off mountain cliffs, running through tall grass, folklore stories of fairies and dragons, a child at heart.

Nienna — honeyed and sulky dark summers, pomegranates, thunderstorms, magnolias, unkept promises, cinematic and shadowy, existing in a trance of melancholy, feels passionately though feigns detachment, slightly off-putting, their presence is announced but even if it wasn't you'd still know they were there, constantly underestimated, desperately afraid of silence, red-rimmed eyes, always appears serene, broken handwriting, short hair, foxes, dead leaves, large coats and scarves, numb fingers, old stone walls, steaming black tea, tears, gazing at a past lover down the hall, the smell before rain, old songs, nostalgia.

Námo — set features, eyes the color of dead souls, candles melting wax atop a piano, tragic smiles, an inexplicable sense of sharpness, hot tears, decaying cores, irreversible tornadoes, infectious whispers, heart is always pounding, doesn't like to be seen, nightmares, dark circles under their eyes that they can't hide, doesn't know their limits, slightly self-destructive, the silent one, bitter coffee, quiet observation, black eyeshadow, knows a bit of everything, no-nonsense, cold fingers and colder gazes, being misunderstood, sitting alone in a hard wood chair late at night, dead roses, losing a loved one too soon, moss covering broken gravestones, shattered glass, the taste of melancholy.

Irmo — glows when they talk, dewy eyes, radiates with a blessing from the sun, gentle hands, dandelions, white clouds, the shy warmth of the first days of spring, afternoon naps, soft pillows, carefree laughter, fields of reeds, basking in the moonlight, flower crowns, sunbathing in creeks, gloriously alive, hours among the leaves, kind soul, often lost in their own thoughts, nights spent watching the river, dancing in a circle, holding hands, soft clothes, sun kissed skin, always listening to music, either works too hard or not at all, warm smiles, dancing in the rain, catching fireflies, wanting to do everything and nothing all at once, innocent hope, paper stars in glass jars, bittersweet goodbyes, looking for beauty in everything, water-coloured skies.

Estë — dried orange garlands, snow on green tiled roofs, a bit in love, quills dipped in metallic ink, daydreaming, angelic singing, very fond of cuddling, homemade bread, constantly buying gifts for people, talkative, will hold your hand whenever and wherever, friends with almost everyone, convinced that sleeping at 10pm is late, strawberry ice cream, calming eyes, telling old stories, rosy cheeks, wanting the best for everyone, sunrises, loves nature, passionate about dreams, self-made flower crowns, will stay up late to comfort you, unexpected hugs from the back, not afraid to tell people they love them, humble.

Vairë — silver knitting needles, velvet skies filled with twinkling stars, red embroidery thread, hot black tea with spoonfuls of sugar, ballet shoes, hearts carved in birch bark, denim jackets, distant bells, foxgloves, rain moving over hills, cheek caresses, a bedroom left alone, walking in the mud and rain at dusk, resisting change, dead ends, unspoken feelings, finally coming home, looking up at the stars in hope of something more, simultaneously brimming with hope and lifeless, wiling the hours away, staring at the ceiling, wanting to write but not knowing the words, hiding from the world, afraid of the future, a sense of dread.

Vána — soft features, the smell of lavender, long walks in the sunshine, singing in a choir, sincere laughter, pastel colours, reading poetry aloud, baking cookies and sharing it with friends, kind gestures, painting on random objects, flower print clothes, lacy socks, handwritten love letters, forgiving people, graceful movements, writing poetry, roses, standing up for those who can't defend themselves, walks through nature, positivity, white lace, long hair, very graceful, always there for you, nostalgia of a time that you never knew, undeniably beautiful, the sweet breeze of a spring morning, slowing drifting off while laying on a green meadow, calm and collected, the best friend you could ask for.

Tulkas — loud laughter, hammocks, doesn't know when to stop, can't sleep, jacket with so many fixed holes it has been reduced to patchwork, flashing smiles, living on the edge, free spirit that will rip you to shreds if you dare to try and tame it, bloody knuckles, the moments of silence after a loud screaming match, riding into the sunset, dogs barking in the distance, the smell of fire on the air, running from person to person, unbridled chaos, aimless wandering, on the verge of greatness, call of the void, empty avenues, walking between worlds, wanting to hold the planets, melancholy nights, seeing things that aren't really there, wishing for more, overgrown unkempt gardens, bright colours against dark greens, tripping up on vines and logs, scraped knees.

Nessa — can go from laughing to serious fast if necessary, little bits of dark humour, staying up late, they do the little eyebrow thing when they get insulted, doodles, everybody else thinks they have friends but they don’t, red lipstick, lively, can be implosive, forgotten, mood swings like crazy, but very calm when they are happy, regrets decisions they made in the past, affectionately called a little brat, out until late in the afternoon of the next day, does not let anyone kill their vibe, seeing their escape in a person, the echo of your own steps on a tile floor, the sensation of being the only one left, a way that seems to have no end.

Eönwë — intimidating, has a soft side but only a few people see it, loves the forest, natural beauty, combat boots, deep thinker, false formality, a chord of music that breaks the silence, clouds rolling in, doesn't get angry but instead just fucking glares at you until you crumble, loves thunderstorms, mind like caverns, hands like stone, to hold or to hurt, heavy irises, earthquake tempers, unrequited love, soft voice, they know you whether you know them or not, lingering touches, people watching, the smell of old books and rain, faint music in the distance, won't let others break their friend's hearts, clearing their throat as a type of warning, moral righteousness, faith in humanity, towering buildings.

Mairon — sarcastic comments with a smile, glares that could kill, speaking in such a pretentious way that no one even understands you, obsession over studies, being a good person but getting corrupted, setting fire to the city, eyes like flames, heeled boots, soft aching hands buried in messy hair, ancient ruins, cups of tea gone cold, flawless eyeliner, impulsive decisions, false pretences, sickly sweet smiles, daunting realisations, masquerade masks, too stubborn to admit their regrets, waking up from a nightmare, hands cold to the bone, chest pains, the sharp cold of winter, rotting apples, dark circles under the eyes from not sleeping for days, hands stripped from over-washing.

So! Still trying to work out my masterlist and first few posts I have pre-written. In the meantime, please enjoy this messy aesthetic thingy.

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yandere-ainur-confessions · 1 year

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love the idea of a human darling that manwë takes immense interest in. like, we all know he’d be quick to pull some manipulation on you (ofc he has every power to do whatever, but others are so easy to deceive that he won’t have to resort to any means that might hurt anyone). “no one would believe you,” manwë would remind you of this 24/7. why would he, the greatest ainur take interest on a lowly human? what are you going to do, tell others that manwë has been following you? why would anyone believe you? tell everyone that manwë has been tormenting you? yeah, right. why would manwë even waste his time on a person like you? slowly and surely, at some point, human darling would def start believing they’re losing their sanity and this isn’t at all real. i think, manwë will take advantage on this vulnerability. humans might have the gift of mortality, but they are oh so easily breakable.

he finds it almost amusing, the way that you try to ramble to your loved ones about how manwë, the lord of arda, is following you around. how they find you absolutely delusional. and when you return? he awaits you back home. taking you into his arms and calling you his poor little dove, "are they ill-treating you again?" "did they call you delusional again?" "oh my darling I'm so sorry. . . I would never do that to you, I love you."

and when you try to push him away? he merely smiles. strokes some of your hair behind your ear and whispers for you to behave. after all, should he leave you here in a bloody heap, your loved ones would not chalk it up to anyone. no, they'd simply think you're at your tricks again.

he would continuously drill that fact through your head. reminding you over and over that you truly did only have him. if you lose your mind in the process, that's all the better. it means he can sweep you away and keep you to himself. his poor little mortal, so pliable and reliant on him. and only him.

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dirty-ainur-confessions · 1 year

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Who of the Valar could have a breeding kink? How would they go about it, when introducing the reader (their beloved) to it?

♡. melkor

it seems from his obsession with wanting to create life. it's something that you'd notice after the numerous times that he's filled you up and it would be in your best interest to bring it up. once you do, he'd be shameless about it. and once he's certain you're into it, oh boy. he's favourite thing in the world is to fuck you for hours, having you full and dripping with him before he slips a toy in so that his 'seed isn't wasted.' he tells you how pretty you are when you're just begging to be stuffed full, how gorgeous you are pleading for him to breed you

♡. manwë

as a vala with avian traits, this kink would come about due to the fact that he falls into heats. as his first heat with you approached, he would inform you of it and give you the option to stray away from him until the week is over. if you refuse, well, get ready. manwë in heat is ravenous, desperate. he fucks you like, well, a creature in heat. relentlessly pounding you into the sheets even whilst the both of you release for the umpteenth time. pulling and caging you in multiple positions. fucking you in front of a mirror so that you see how eagerly you take his seed. ( with pre consent ) you'll wake up hours after having fallen asleep to his cock parting your walls as he holds you against him. making sure to fuck another load into you, telling you what a good little darling you are for him, so prettily taking his seed

♡. oromë

he assumes that this kink somehow extended from his more prominent one: predator/prey. just the thought of forcing you against the forest floor and fucking you like an animal in heat has him embarrassingly hard. he'd bring it up to you, wishing to try it out during one of your next 'chases'. you agree and let's just say that it might have been the fastest oromë has ever caught you. he shoves you into the ground or a tree, already rutting into you as though he had no self control. he tells you how he's going to breed you thoroughly. stuff you full, right here, right now. and it is exactly what he does. fucking you within the forests so that your pretty moans echo. all while begging for his seed, begging for him fully claim you. oh, he simply goes wild with the amount of times he's seen his essence travel down your pretty thighs

#·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭 ៸៸ melkor ─ ♡.#·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭 ៸៸ manwë ─ ♡.#·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐭 ៸៸ oromë ─ ♡.#manwë x reader #manwe x reader #manwë súlimo #melkor x reader #morgoth #oromë x reader #orome #the silmarillion #silm #tolkien #smut #minors dni #ainur #valar #confessoons

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 10 months

Text

Lord and Master

Pairing: Manwë x Fem. Reader (Elf |Third Person POV)

Themes: Medieval! Ainur | Angst | Dark

Wordcount : 3.4K words

Summary: Manwë finally agrees to marry, but is angry because his ability to control his life is being stripped from him. Finally, on his wedding night, the chance to take back some of that control presents itself to him.

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+

Rules and tag form here.

A/n: This is my first foray into dark/dub-con, so I apologize if there are any mess-ups in the story.

The wedding passed like an ugly dream. Manwë did all that was required of him, biting the inside of his cheek the entire time.

When word of his trysts with Námo made its way into the light, ladies refused him one by one. Varda was the first to rescind her offer of marriage. She had declared she did not think highly of a prince who threw the one he loved to the dirt and walked away like it all meant nothing to him. And where she went, the rest followed: Vána and Yavanna agreed with their lady’s choice, as did Arien and Ilmarë. Even the dutiful ones like Uinen, Lëa, and Melian refused the prince’s proposal with a courteous chorus of "Thank you kindly, your grace," followed by "But no." Nienna would never accept a proposal, and Meássë simply laughed in the messenger’s face when he showed her the king's letter. The king had purpled and raged for days when he heard.

Manwë turned to his bride, a wave of deep-seated anger and resentment surging through his veins. Lady y/n was not his choice for a wife. After Meássë refused, Eru finally had to stoop so low as to ask a minor lordling for his daughter’s hand in marriage. That stung as well.

He glanced at his wife again. She was well-bred and well-mannered, so the others said. Y/n loved singing, sewing, and reading, but she was not what the crown prince wanted in a companion. She was too quiet and docile. She certainly was not Námo, yet he must wed her and secure the line of succession. That was his father’s order and the council's.

"Wed her, bed her, and put a child in her," the king commanded once the offer of marriage had been accepted. "You are capable of this, yes?”

Manwë had clenched his fists so hard they turned white at the knuckles. "You command I wed someone I do not desire," he spat, "Yet you heartily agree to your Lord Commander's wedding and bedding a lowly serving girl. How do you justify it, your grace?"

His father’s icy glare pinned him to the chair he sat in. It made Manwë feel so small. "Our Lord Commander is not my son. He will never wear the crown. And Eönwë commands the near-fanatical loyalty of our army. He even saved your life once. Do you not remember? How he fought your brother and bled in your name?"

Manwë flinched when reminded. "Father...”

"Keeping a warrior like our Lord Commander happy is in this realm's best interests." Eru interrupted him and picked up his quill and a piece of parchment. The sight made Manwë feel like he was in a ship already listing dangerously to one side. "And yours. That is how I justify it. But if you wish to refuse this marriage," Eru said while dipping the quill in new ink. "You need only say the word, and I will marry the lady instead.”

And if I refuse, Valinor will learn my lord father has yet another son who flees his duty, the prince thought bitterly. Oh yes, I can hear it now. Poor king Eru, plagued with selfish, disobedient sons who care for nothing but themselves.

Manwë did not want others to see him as no better than Melkor, but he wished for the days when his brother was heir and life was a carefree dream, where he was master of his destiny and lived how he pleased. Now, with every word and every stroke of his father's quill, he felt his sense of control being stripped from him, sliver by painful sliver. Each day he felt a little smaller and a little weaker. He started to feel more like a boy desperate for approval and nothing like the man he wanted to be.

Forever bowing my head to the will of someone else. Father, the council, the crown. Is that what I am? Someone who readily acquiesces? Someone helpless and weak?

Someone coughed. It was the priest. The time had come to exchange vows. The bride and groom turned to face each other, one with eyes full of hope and the other wishing to see nothing before them.

"One heart," they repeated in unison, "One soul, One flesh. Bound in word, body, and spirit, from this day until the end of all days."

Y/n looked at her new husband through her veil, thinking how comely he looked in his rich black velvet doublet, and his silver hair falling down to his shoulders in beautiful waves. She hoped to find blushing cheeks, bright eyes, and a shy smile. All she found was darkness in his deep blue eyes and anger in his clenched jaws. It was a warning, a sign of dark things that may come to pass. There was great danger here, but she shrugged the growing sense of foreboding away and still gave him her hand, shivering when he slipped a thin gold band onto her finger. There was nothing else she could do. The contract had been signed, and the vows had been said. For good or ill, she was his now, and her duty as a wife was to obey her husband. That was what she was taught.

"With this ring," Manwë declared to all present, his words clearly forced. "I pledge my love!"

His bride did the same. Y/n’s words were sweeter, and filled with tender hope. Her lord father came forward and lifted her veil. Manwë ground his teeth and did his duty, leaning in and kissing her chastely before swiftly pulling away. He accepted the necklace his father presented him in a beautifully carved box and draped it around his bride's throat. Y/n was overcome with the shivers. Her new jewels felt like a noose. She took deep breaths to compose herself and clung to the hope that the prince was as kind and courteous as the songs said he was and that love would bloom between them over time.

"What the Gods have brought together," came the priest's cry, "let no one tear asunder!"

The crowd clapped and cheered in approval when the crown prince and princess turned to face them. Manwë dutifully offered his arm, but y/n felt his stiffness as they walked down the aisle together. The chapel was aglow with the light of a thousand candles. A riot of color bled from the stained glass windows onto the floor. Those standing in the upper walkways threw rose petals onto the couple while they walked beneath them. Swirls of red and white rained down on y/n and Manwë even as the doors to the outside world opened. Crowds gathered outside Taniquetil’s great chapel cheered even louder than those inside. Y/n raised her arm and waved to them, thinking her heart would burst with joy. She turned to face her husband, her joy soon wilting like a flower under the scorching heat of the sun. When Manwë turned to her, his eyes filled with something akin to hate.

“Come, wife," he said stiffly. "It is time we took ourselves to the feast."

An hour later, they were walking into the great hall for the feast. Y/n tried to talk with her husband during the carriage ride to Ilmarin to engage his attention. Manwë would look at her with little interest before turning away. His cool indifference stung, but y/n chose to be patient. She thought he was grieving the loss of his first love. This will pass soon enough, she thought. Someday she would be rewarded. She was certain of it.

The feast was a splendid affair. Eru had spared no expense. Minstrels strolled between tables, singing and fluting and strumming lyres. Fire dancers walked on stilts, juggling flaming batons in their hands. Guests dined on thick mushroom soup and salads of beans, onions, spinach, and beets. There was roasted boar and roasted quail and squab, and pears soaked in red wine. There were flagons of mead and flagons of ale, glass pitchers of iced summer wine, and the finest hippocras money could buy. Many broke into loud applause when servants walked into the hall carrying a great swan pie between them. The dish was reserved only for royalty. On this day, it would be served to everyone. Seated at the high table on an ornate chair under a richly embroidered canopy, y/n had little appetite for her food, fine as it all was. Her stomach would tie itself into unpleasant knots whenever she glanced at her husband.

Manwë's mood had darkened even more. Irmo of House Blackgrave was seated with the other high lords and ladies, but Námo was nowhere to be seen. He had been ill since Manwë sent him away. A common illness, so the messenger said, one that would go away under the tender care of his sister. The prince knew differently. Námo was sick because of him.

It should be me tending to him, and not Nienna.

He could not tend to Námo now. The chance to do so disappeared when Manwë put his name on parchment and agreed to take y/n for a wife. With each stroke and flourish of the quill, he felt his sense of control slip away even more, making him feel helpless and angry.

Weak. Helpless. Forever bowing to the will of others. This cannot continue.

He heard gentle laughter. It was the Lord Commander's wife. She was wide-eyed while she watched a troupe of tumblers perform incredibly daring feats. Her doting husband kept her in his lap, not caring a whit for what other people thought. Eönwë was content to feed her morsels from his own plate before stealing unexpected kisses, his arm tightening around her waist in a protective gesture when she leaned in and cupped his face. He would listen indulgently whenever she said something, beaming like a man who knew his love was well returned. The sight filled Manwë with despair. He wished to hold Námo the same way, feed him the same way, and drown in his laughter. He turned to face his wife. She was playing with her food. Anger seared through his veins again.

"Does the meal not please you?" he asked in rough, clipped tones.

Y/n was startled. It was the first time the prince had asked anything of her since their first meeting half a year ago.

"It is excellent, your highness," she replied meekly. "But I fear my appetite cannot do it justice."

Your highness. The way she said it, all soft and submissive. Manwë gave her a measured look.

Small. Meek. And bound by oath to obey me. The thoughts came swiftly and unbidden. Manwë ignored such thoughts and looked away just as a herald called the guests to dance. His wife placed her hand over his.

"Shall we dance, your highness?" she asked hopefully.

Manwë’s mouth twisting into an ugly sneer was all the answer y/n needed. He did not want to dance, eat, or join in the merrymaking. He wanted this night over and done with.

There is only one thing left to do, he decided, and rose. The music slowly died when he stood to his full height. Everyone's attention turned to him.

"I confess, my lords and ladies, as much as I would love to dance," he declared with a forced smile, "I have more... pressing matters to tend to with my lady wife. Come, my lady. It is time we did our duty."

The others laughed. Y/n forced herself to smile. When her husband offered his arm, she rose and took it, turning a deaf ear to the ribald jests shouted their way. She let Manwë lead her through lofty halls and cool corridors, all while her stomach was a roil.

She had been prepared for her bedding, but the way Manwë looked at her, his eyes ablaze with cold fury, frightened her. She looked straight ahead, clinging to the hope that her fears were unfounded and the prince would surprise her with tender words and gentle embraces.

That was not to be. When the couple entered an airy bedchamber and the doors closed behind them, Manwë pulled away from her. He walked over to a side table and helped himself to a cup of wine.

Manwë studied her critically. Quiet. Dutiful. Perhaps this can work.

"You must now obey me in all things, yes?"

“I am your wife, your highness. I must obey."

Small. Meek. Bound by oath to obey me. This time, he did not push the thought away. Y/n was bound by oath to obey him. Whatever he asked of her, she had to do it without protest. The knowledge of it was too much for him to resist.

It is time I regained some control over my life. I will not bow my head to yet another.

"Undress yourself," Manwë commanded. He walked to the bed, his new boots clicking over the stone floor.

Y/n blushed furiously. She dreamed of her husband undressing her, giggling while he fumbled with the clasps and lacings in her dress. She did not expect him to order her to undress herself in front of him.

"Undress yourself," Manwë urged, his words like honey. "Come now. You are a true and obedient wife, yes?"

Y/n wrung her hands. "I... I wish to be, your highness."

Manwë lifted his cup and drank deeply, draining it to the last drop. "Then prove to me you are a true and obedient wife. Undress."

Y/n flushed. She was his wife. She pledged herself to him. Swore to obey him in all things. And obey him she did. She first undid her braids, removing the pins and clips, her fingers fumbling at her hair like they were all broken thumbs. Manwë was content to watch. Seeing her hair fall free in loose strands did something to him. Watching her comply with his command did something to him. Whatever it was, he soon grew drunk on it.

"You are still dressed, my lady," he observed. "Your gown… it is beautiful to be sure, but it is too much. Unburden yourself. But leave the necklace; I like it."

Y/n flushed again. This time in humiliation. "Your highness, I... should I be doing this?"

"Yes, sweet wife," Manwë replied, enjoying himself thoroughly. "It is only proper that you do so."

His wife managed somehow, her cheeks aflame the entire time. Her heavy gown and sash slowly slipped off her shoulders and pooled around her feet. Her stays and slip followed. When she finally stepped out of the wisps that passed for smallclothes, Manwë put his cup on the ground and stood up, surprised to find himself already hard.

There were gooseprickles all over y/n's exposed skin. Her eyes were fixed on the floor. Manwë circled her once, then twice, like a predator circling his prey. He let his hand glide up her spine and play with her hair. She shivered when he palmed the soft expanse of her breasts. Manwë felt her tremble. He liked it. It made him feel powerful, for the first time in many moons.

"Undress me," Manwë ordered, slipping out of his boots.

Y/n kept her eyes on the clasps on his tunic. She fumbled again, her fingers turning back into broken thumbs. Manwë smirked and kept still.

Her hands were soft and warm when they brushed against his flesh. She was unsure of herself and hesitant, but she did her work dutifully and quickly. Once freed of his doublet and undershirt, Manwë returned to the bed and stood by the edge.

"Come, wife," he said, holding out his hand. "Come here."

His wife took one hesitant step after another, uncertain of what he wanted. Y/n had not been taught much concerning matters of the flesh. Her mother had told her to expect certain things, like discomfort and pain, but she also said such things would go away and the rest would be nothing but magic. Y/n studied her husband. There was hunger in his eyes, and flashes of something far more sinister. She feared there would be no magic this night. Not for her at any rate.

"Closer," Manwë cooed. "Closer. Good. Now. On your knees."

Y/n looked at him, shocked. "Your highness... I... I do not understand."

Manwë grinned wolfishly. "Get on your knees and undo my belt. Go on. You would do it if you really wanted to be a dutiful wife, yes?"

Y/n licked her lips. Of course, she wanted to be a dutiful wife. From the first moment she saw Manwë all she had ever wanted was to be a good wife and earn his love. She nodded and sank to her knees, grateful for the rug beneath her. She undid the clasp of his belt, then the drawstrings on his breeches. Her cheeks heated when Manwë tugged them down just enough to free his cock.

"Open your mouth," he said, and caressed her cheek. He ran his thumb across her lips, imagining what they would look like, swollen and glistening with the remnants of his spend. "Go on."

Y/n looked up at him, thinking she had heard wrong. Manwë caressed her cheek again, almost in affection. "Open your mouth. You do not want to disappoint me, do you?"

"No," she sputtered. It was a strange feeling, having his cock slip past her parted lips and sink further and further into her mouth. She felt him, thick and salty and heavy on her tongue. Y/n glanced up at him, surprised to find his eyes closed and his head thrown back.

"Loosen your jaw," he hissed, and wrapped his hands around her hair, pulling it out of the way. "There. Like that."

Manwë's mind soon grew hazy with bliss. Gods, her mouth feels so good. His grunts grew louder and louder. There was nothing else—no whispered endearments—that would soothe his wife and inflame her passions. Manwë did not care. He simply wanted to regain some control. And it felt so good, to take back what control he had over his life.

I am in control.

Y/n did not know what else to do. She let him thrust into her mouth, her eyes stinging with confused tears. Manwë wiped the tear away with his thumb and brought it to his lips, as if to taste. He shivered when he tasted the saltiness of her tear on the tip of his tongue, and shivered when he felt the warmth of her mouth and the softness of her sinful lips. He wanted to kiss those lips while he claimed her maidenhead, but not now. He was so close that he could already feel a tightness in his belly. He brushed his hands over her hair and groaned when her lips tightened around his cock. Just a little longer. He needed to hold on for a little longer. And that was all he had. The world went still. Manwë let out a deep moan while his body splintered and shook with ecstasy. Y/n could do nothing but grip his thighs while the warmth of his spend filled her mouth.

Manwë panted and drew back, satisfied for now. "Swallow," he insisted, not moving another inch until y/n had swallowed every last drop. He stood back and admired the sight of his wife on her knees before him, her lips glistening and swollen just like he hoped they would be. That sense of feeling powerful returned, this time stronger than before.

I am in control.

Manwë grabbed that feeling with eager hands, not wanting to let go of it.

I am lord and master.

He finally walked away, setting himself to rights and picking up the rest of his clothes as he did so. "I will sleep in here," he said, opening the door to a smaller bedroom. "Good night."

Y/n rose and turned to face her own bed. Her knees were sore, and her jaws hurt. She thought there would be more to this night. "But your highness, this is our wedding night. Should we be…"

"Do not fret," Manwë yawned contentedly. An hour or two of rest was needed, and then he would consummate their marriage. "I will claim your maidenhead and consummate this marriage. But it will be at a time of my choosing. Not yours. Never yours. Am I understood?"

Y/n opened her mouth in reply. She thought she deserved to have some say on how this night went. Manwë leaned against the door, his arms crossed, and his eyes darkening again. It frightened her, made her whisper, "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, your highness."

"Good," Manwë muttered. "Never forget what I am, wife. Your lord and master, nothing less than that."

Y/n tried to blink back her tears when he slammed the door behind him. Her hopes slowly crumbled like brittle clay. There would be no love. No tenderness. Not with him, not after tonight. Manwë made it plain with his few words that she should not expect more from him. Suddenly more tired than ever, she crawled into bed and slipped beneath a soft pelt, waiting for him to come for her again.

The thought made her blood run cold.

tags: @cilil

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