rottencherrypie

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Tag Team (Tauriel x Reader x Kili)

Summary - A new night means a new opportunity for pleasure with your elven and dwarven lover, but this time, something new is brought into the mix.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader, fem!reader, mention of female genitalia (reader), mention of male genitalia (Kili and a strap-on), weird descriptions (would I not be me without them?), threesome, Tauriel has a strap-on, lowkey sub!Kili (one day I will make him not a sub, one day), slight sub!reader, slight dom!Tauriel (dommy mommy), sort of dark!Tauriel (I was ovulating, leave me alone), oral sex (Kili receiving), mention of cum (a lot of cum), reader squirts, degradation (reader receiving), praise (reader receiving...conflicting smut lol), pet names (reader receiving),Tauriel getting a majority of the attention (seriously could just be a Tauriel smut if you forget about Kili), cum swallowing (not sorry), implied aftercare (I wrote too much and wanted to post this so no aftercare scene but after care is important!), and potentially more.

Pronouns & POV - None (but reader is called a good girl), third-person

Word Count - 4,100+ (this was meant to be shorter but I got carried away)

A/N - Heyyy, besties~! Guess who's alive and is about to make it the world's problem *insert kissy face*. But in all seriousness, I do apologize for disappearing for so long, several things happened since I disappeared but I am somewhat back now with this smut that was suggested from the previous suggestion box! "Basically a part 2 to the "Bring a Friend" (anonymous). Thank you for the suggestion, I have been wanting to do a part two (and now maybe a part three) of Bring a Friend since I had first written it; I apologize it had taken me so long to write, a lot of personal stuff went down (including a power outage when I was wrapping it up), but I hope it was worth it. I did try something new with the spacing, and a few newer things writing wise, I was overcompensating a lot because I felt like my writing was more subpar than usual. Reader has no defining features other than soft lips, round ass, and hair that can be grabbed at/tangled in. Smut below the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

A familiar beat fluttered throughout the air: it was one known well, one that stained the halls—and the floors—with the essence of lust. It was typical for the tune to be followed by the deep, steady beat of a headboard thumping against a wall.

Yet this time, the erotic melody was not led by a thump. No, the melody that trailed after that lustful tune was that of mewling.

An erotic sound easily flowed forth from the dwarven prince's thin lips; his mouth hung open in a gasp, resembling a fish plucked out of water gasping for air, as he was whisked farther into the alluring embrace of pleasure. The weight of his head fell back slightly as the sway of satisfaction roamed throughout his sturdy frame; the sharp center of his neck pointed toward the ceiling above, causing the auburn waves of his hair to flutter down his glistening shoulders, the ends of the smoothen locks trickled low enough to graze against the toned flesh of his upper back.

As the erotic tune of the prince's moans continued to flutter throughout the air, there was a melody that had yet to trail against it—that of yours. As it had been once before: the sounds of your satisfaction had been stifled, muffled by the warmth of flesh.

Though, it was not identical to how it was once. No.

Instead of the sweetened tang of elven flesh coating the moistness of your tongue, the taste that flooded the warmth of your mouth was different. It was far saltier than the taste of elf you had been accustomed to, but it was not the first time you had downed dwarven cock—but it was the first time it prevented your moans from dancing throughout the night's air.

The length of the prince's cock was a decent size, it was not large enough to cause pain as it drilled into the moistened cavern of your mouth, however, its girth was of nothing you had experienced before. The corners of your lips strained around the mass of his hardened member; the inner, moist flesh of your mouth being stretched to its limits as it encased the dwarf's throbbing cock.

As the length of his cock continued to get acquainted with the warm, moistened caress of your mouth, his calloused hands found themselves entangled within the texture of your hair. The grasp his calloused hands held upon your locks was firm, yet not painful; it was tight enough to keep himself steady—whilst also giving him the leverage to puppet your head to his pleasure—but it was not harsh enough to cause a hiss of displeasure to vibrate against the girth of his cock.

The corners of your stretched lips began to overflow with saliva as the dwarven prince's hips continued to buck into the warmth of your mouth; the light tap of his balls bounced off of your chin, causing the sound of flesh meeting moistened flesh to echo throughout the air—an echo that was accompanied by another, far harsher tap of toned hips meeting the rounded flesh of your rear.

A sound met with an equally harsh touch; as the dwarven prince managed to keep his grasp upon your head gentle, despite the roaming lust within his veins, it was a far different tale when it came to the elven guard who lingered behind you.

It was tight; the tips of her fingernails sunk into the flesh of your hips, pricking at the fiber of your being with a bitterly erotic sting. And firm; within the tightened grasp of her palm, you found it nearly impossible to move farther than an inch from her firm and steady hand. And most of all, possessive; any attempts you made—and failed—to inch away from the roughened pace of the elf's hips, she would easily pull you back with a firm tug—the weight of her figure pressing into you as she leaned down, the flesh of her firm breasts grazing against the glistening flesh of your back, as the heat of her breath caressed the shell of your ear. "Where do you think you're going?" She'd breathe: the warmth of her words entering your very being, causing shock waves of arousal to roam throughout your body in the wake of her growled question.

The pace the guard's hips held was not like that of the dwarven prince; there was no slowness, no rhyme or rhythm behind her thrusts as she pushed the silicone cock further into the stretched, leaking hole of your core. Her movements could only be described in three words: quick, sloppy, and feral.

The false cock would continue to carve itself inside of the slickness of your core; a sensation that was ever so strange, yet eerily familiar to you. It was not that you had such an item used upon you prior—though the elven guard had such a thing secretly stashed amongst a chest of weapons—no, the fake cock itself was more than just its name. It was a replica of the very cock that filled your mouth.

It was all but identical to the prince's cock; from the large vein that curved upon the center, to every divot and curve bestowed upon the silicone. The only way you knew it to be false—other than the beautiful elf behind it—was the inability to feel the throb of the prince's heartbeat within the sea of silicone.

A pleased growl rumbled throughout the center of the elf's chest as she continued the onslaught against your dripping cunt; the smoothness of her firm breasts grazing against the sweat-dampened flesh of your back. The thrusts of her hips were harsh, each thrust pushing her weight further into you—ensuring that her cock reached depths that the real one had failed to do prior.

No mercy was shown upon your leaking core as the guard shifted her stance, the powerful pumping of her hips matching the rapid beating of her heart as the weight of her body drifted backward. The slight pressure of her firm breasts eased off of your glistening back as her spine stood tall, reverting to her perfect posture—even as her hips continued to bounce off of the flesh of your arse. "Fuck..." The word would leave her lips in a breath as her gaze flickered down to the sight of your stretched hole: admiring how it desperately clung around her cock, puckering around the smoothness of silicone as it hungrily swallowed down each inch with an eager squelch.

"Just like that, pretty girl." The grasp she held upon the softness of your hips would tighten as the praise left her lips in a purr; the tips of her nails embedding themselves into the delicate flesh—a sensation that caused a hiss to vibrate against the prince's throbbing cock. "Such a good girl, taking us so well." The guard would continue to praise you, the words falling from her lips as fluidly as the motions of her hips—quick, deep, and possessively.

The harsh snap of her hips meeting the rounded flesh of your arse continued to echo throughout the room, though the tune was arguably more gentle in tone than it was in sensation. The unbridled, feral pace held within the elf's hips would jolt you forward with every thrust, pushing you further down onto the prince's cock. The tip of your nose would be pressed firmly against the toned flesh of his abdomen as the elf's thrust jolted your forwards, making you down another inch of his cock; an act that caused the throbbing, angered head of his manhood to tap against the back of your throat.

The act of the prince's tip ramming against the back of your throat caused a forced gag to roam upon the length; at any other moment, the action of gagging would cause repulsion within the prince. He would have turned up his nose in disgust and shrunk away from the sound, yet within that moment it was different.

Rather than disgust, the prince found arousal in the fact that it was him who you choked upon—his cock that you could barely swallow down, his cock those erotic vibrations of hesitation rang upon.

It was him you drooled upon, him who stretched the flesh of your mouth to its limits—him who caused those tear-streaked cheeks and watery eyes who bore up at him, glazed over with nothing but lust.

"Fuck..." The word slipped through his thin lips as he gazed down upon his creation, upon his goddess: it sounded closer to a mewled whine rather than that of a coherent word—the single syllable hovering upon the softness of his thin lips before it found itself fluttering into the air to meet the poorly muffled gag you spewed upon his cock.

The sound of panted laughter soon accompanied the primal sound the prince had left within the air, the guard's chest vibrating in amusement as the pace of her hips quickened—refusing to give your cunt a moment of mercy as you continued to choke upon the prince's cock.

The sight of the guard laughing as she pounded into your aching core urged the dwarven prince's hips to quicken in pace.

It was a sight all too tempting, all too irresistible to the prince; the way her fiery locks caressed the softness of her face, her forehead glistening with the moisture of her efforts all the while her firm breasts jolted with the harsh effort of her hips.

And you, his beautiful goddess, did not aid in quenching the fire of the prince's passion as his eyes flickered down to meet yours—the way those beautiful gemstones stared at him so mindlessly, so full of trust and lust; it made his hips move on their own accord. Yet, the act was not met without consequence.

As the prince's cock continued to carve itself a home within the moistened flesh of your mouth, all moisture was forced from it due to the fullness; liquid followed forth from the corners of your lips, the clearness of your saliva tinted by the milkiness of the prince's precum—the taste of the liquid was a salty, bitter tang that made the slickened walls of your core clench around the smooth thickness of silicone within.

The milky mixture continued to coat every inch of your mouth; there was no tastebud spared of the fate being drenched with the essence of the prince's pre-pleasure as his girth continued to glide within the warmth of your mouth. And with the consistent movement of the dwarf's eager hips, soon enough your chin was not spared either—the opaque mixture continued to spill forth from the corners of your lips as gravity soon led it to the point of your chin, slowly beginning to drip down the length of your neck as the speed of the prince's hips refused to cease.

"Fuck..." The word once again left the prince's lips in a mewl as the pace of his hips refused to falter; a mindless chant of pleasure that sounded more acquaint to a sinner who had finally found salvation within the loving grasp of a god—or rather, the dampened mouth of a disheveled goddess.

"Do it again..." The prince encouraged, no, pleaded with the elven guard as he shifted his head back into place. No longer did the sharp point of his neck point to the stars, nor did the lids of his honey-colored eyes remain closed; instead, they were wide open, boring into the emerald pair that the gods had so lovingly bestowed upon the elvish guard—a beautiful pair that shimmered with lust.

The corners of the guard's lips began to curl in amusement at the dwarf's plea; finding humor amongst the sea of pleasure at how easily she turned an authority of power into a pleading mess by pleasuring another.

The grasp she held upon the flesh of your hips tightened as the dwarf's desperation hung within the air, the tips of her nails embedding themselves further into the plushness of your skin with a harsh pinch—causing you to jolt forwards and hiss against the prince's length. The curled sea of hair that protected the base of the prince's cock would rub against your lower face, causing your nose to scrunch slightly at the sensation whilst the vibrations of your displeasure echoed upon the mass of his length.

"Do what again?" The guard questioned; though her tone held innocence, it was feigned—the words no more than a taunt that weighed heavy within the lust-thickened air.

"Use your words." She would purr, giving the illusion of choice, yet it was clear the coaxing statement was more than just that—it was a thinly veiled command. A command that shone through clearly within the gaze her emerald orbs held: sharpening within the dimness of the room's faint lighting, the orange hue of fire danced upon her features—emphasizing the sharpness in both her gaze and her features through the warmth that danced upon her face, and in the darkness it left in the areas it refused to touch.

A strained, pathetic mewl fell from the prince's lips at the command. The weight of his head threatened to tilt back again, yet he managed to keep it steady as he met his elven lover's burning, emerald gaze with his own desperate, honey-colored one.

The flesh of his palms grew slick with sweat as they tightened around the various textures of your hair—an attempt to dry his palms and keep himself stable as the joints within his knees threatened to give out.

"Make her choke on my cock." The words fell from the prince's lips alongside a slew of small, needy whimpers and moans—as the sounds flowed out of the prince's lips as smooth as honey, the essence of your pleasure continued to flow forth from cunt.

The wet, squelching click of your pleasure weighed heavily within the air; the essence of your pleasure slowly rolled down the silicone length as it continued to carve itself a home within the warmth of your walls—droplets of your sweet nectar dripped down onto the floor, a small puddle of pleasure pooling upon the old wood.

"Please..." The breathily whined plea was all it took for the guard to cave to the prince's request—after all, she was merely withholding to hear the sweet symphony of his desperation.

A familiar melody fluttered throughout the air; the tune of panted laughter flowed forth from the guard's soft lips, her chest vibrating with slight amusement as the pace within her hips began to quicken once more.

"There it is. Such a good boy." The purr of the guard's words did not linger within the air for long as they quickly found themselves masked by the harsh thwack of her toned hips meeting the supple flesh of your arse.

Her weight shifted forward, allowing the smoothness of her breasts to graze against the sweat-dampen flesh of your back once more as her thrusts turned harsher—more primal if that was even possible.

Mercy was a luxury not bestowed upon your desperate hole as the guard continued to carve her false cock into the depths of your core. The squelching slap of sex danced throughout the air, accompanied by the muffled gags of your moans against the prince's cock you choked upon; as a familiar soreness began to spread throughout the sensitive inner flesh of your cunt, a similar one began to spread throughout the muscles within your jaw—weighing down upon it heavily as the muscles grew tense throughout your trembling figure.

It was as if the very fibers of your being were being stretched and filled to their limits—by the false cock that pounded away within your core, thumping against your sweet spot in an endless assault, and the real one that continued to smack against the back of your throat; the bitter, salty taste of pre-release continuing to bombard your tastebuds as an endless stream of saliva and the prince's nearing release continued to flow forth from the corners of your lips.

The subtle weight of the guard's chest was now fully pressed against the slickness of your back, allowing the softness of her breasts to rub against your back with every harsh thrust of her skilled hips; pressing you further into the prince's cock with every motion of her fluid hips.

A familiar static sensation began to roam throughout your veins, as the weight of your being felt both light as air and yet as heavy as steel—a paradox in every meaning of the manner, a sensation so hard to explain yet well-known by many. As the prickle of static continued to vibrate throughout the fibers of your being, the guard pressed further against your back; as the pressure of her body against your intensified, the harshened grasp she held upon your right hip dropped.

The loss of contact gave you a brief moment of clarity amongst the sea of pleasure; allowing a sense of confusion to arise amongst the rising waves of nearing release, yet it soon came to a crashing halt as the smoothness of the guard's palm found itself between the dampened flesh of your thighs—hovering a mere inch away from the heat of your aching cunt.

The tip of the guard's smooth thumb had soon found in your soaked, sticky folds; your body bucked against her palm at the sensation of her thumb simply toying with your sensitive parts—sliding up and down the sticky slickness of your inner folds in an almost painfully slow caress.

All the while, the silicone tip of her cock continued to ram itself against the most sensitive, spongey spot within the depths of your twitching core.

Your inner walls began to clench and quiver around it; a mindless, primal attempt to milk the false cock—an action that would bend the prince to your will, urging him to bring you to the brink of sweet release, yet the guard could not feel a single thing.

The vibrations of the guard's laughter rumbled against your back as her other hand remained firm on your left hip; feeling the desperate tremors of your needy form.

"Such a desperate thing." She'd coo into your ear; the heat of her words caressing the shell of your ear as she punctuated each syllable with a harsh thrust. "Trying to milk my cock, so pathetic." It was as if the onslaught of her disparaging words unlocked something deep within you; the walls of your leaking core continued to clench and release around the fake cock, desperately attempting to persuade the elf into gifting you the release you so hungrily craved—despite the fact she could not feel a single thing.

"Just a pathetic little slut, aren't you?" A question you had not expected to answer, yet as if acting on its own accord—a strained mewl of agreement vibrated against the prince's cock, further proving the sentiment.

As your vibrations of agreement rang upon the prince's cock, ones of the guard's laughter continued to rumble against your chest as another breathless laugh fell from her soft lips. "What a good slut you are." The praise was not just in words, but in sensation as well as the tip of her thumb finally made contact with your aching bundle of nerves.

A pleased exhale escaped from your nostrils as your eyes began to loop back into your skull, crossing in the process as the muscles within your body began to both ease yet tense at the same time. The tip of her smooth thumb pressed firmly into your twitching bundle of nerves; her motions equally as untamed as those of her hips—massaging sloppy, small circles against it.

Though there was no rhyme or reason within the motions of her hips; she had managed to align each thrust with the motions of her thumb. An act that the prince reaped the rewards of as your muffled sobs of pleasure continued to echo upon the length of his cock, while your cunt sobbed upon the elf's false one.

It was all too much to handle; the head of the false cock continued to pound away at your most sensitive spots as the tip of her thumb continued its ministrations against your swollen, twitching clit. The waves of your pleasure continued to rise, sheathed behind the dam of pleasure that the guard continued to pound away at—slowly cracking down the walls with each harsh clap of her hips against your arse.

Yet, your attempts to withhold pleasure all came to a crashing halt from two measly sentences: "Let it all out, pretty girl. Soak my cock like the good girl you are."

A command not needed to be repeated, as the dams of pleasure quickly burst open at her purred approval with a roaring gush around the fake girth within you; rolling off the smoothness of silicone, adding to the growing puddle of depravity upon the floor—as well as drenching the guard's thighs within the process.

It had felt as if your body was drifting away from you, being whisked up into the night's air by every thrust of the guard's hips, yet somehow still grounded enough to feel the animalistic thrusts behind you—and the squish of dwarven flesh within your palms as your hands clawed at his toned thighs for stability. You could not remember when you had first clung to the prince's legs for stability, yet you were certain it was somewhere between the elf leaning against you or her thumb meeting your clit as that was when you felt the prince's balls tighten as they smacked against your chin.

As you were whisked away in your own realm of pleasure, the prince was quickly sent off on his own as well; guided to the mythical realm through the heavenly vibrations of your choked moans against his cock, and the erotic sting of the tips of your nails digging into the toned flesh of his thighs.

It did not take long for the warmth of his seed to flood your mouth; the sudden volume of which forced a thick mixture of saliva and his essence to stream out of the corners of your lips—following the path the previous mixture had left prior.

The prince's cock rested firmly within the warmth of your throat for a few moments, forcing you to down the unpleasantly addictive taste of his salty seed. A breathless chuckle rumbled within the dwarf's sturdy chest as he felt the subtle glide of your nose scrunching upwards in displeasure at the taste; knowing that the taste of him was guiding you back to reality.

"Good girl." The praise left the prince's lips in a breathless whisper, as he shifted the weight of his stance backward—allowing his cock to slowly ease out of the length of your throat. It soon left the warm caverns within your lips in an erotic pop; a string of saliva and his pleasure connecting his cock to your lips for a moment before snapping, causing the mixture to drip down your chin and neck.

"Such a good girl." The guard would praise in agreement with the prince, as the smooth caress of her hand departed from the aching slickness of your folds—soon finding itself upon the center of your chest in an attempt to keep your quivering form steady. An onslaught of coughs and gasps would fall from your cum-drenched lips, the weight of your body quivering with the guard's sturdy grasp as you struggled to compose yourself from the aftershocks of your pleasure—and the taste of the prince's.

"Do you need a moment, darling?" The guard would ask, her voice much softer than it had been moments ago as the soft glide of her hand traced circles upon the center of your chest—the essence of your pleasure being wiped upon you in the midst of the tender act. "Deep breaths now, love." The assuring words brought a sense of stability within you, grounding you back in the sense of her loving embrace as her false cock remained stagnant within the walls of your womb.

"There we go, nice and slow." The prince urged gently; though his hands were calloused and a bit harsh, his motions were tender as he delicately wiped the mixture of drool and cum off of your lower chin with his thumb.

Slowly, the pace that you breathed began to even out as you found yourself back within the security of your body. The tingle of pleasure roamed throughout your veins in a more muted tone as your lovers softly tended to your trembling figure.

The ringing within your ears slowly dissipated, as you tuned in on the sounds of your breath—harsh yet turning steady, short yet full. It was loud, yet quiet; a peaceful harmony that dared not to be broken.

Tag lists:

The Hobbit — @violetteshoneybee , @spaceagegoblin

All smuts — @lady-haitani

Want to be added to my taglist? Find it here

[rottencherrypie]

hey just wanted to ask if you did some kind of tag lists or anything? if so, i’d love to be tagged in your Kili x reader works please !!! Don’t want to miss a single one 😌

Hello, dear! I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to get to your ask, but I also thank you for the lovely idea of a taglist. I have been debating making one for a while now, so your question was the perfect nudge to get me working on the form for it!

I will add you to the Kili taglist, but if you want to fill out the form for any other characters or fandoms, I will link it below for you and for others to find as well!

want to join the taglist or learn more? simply click over here: cherry's smut taglist

Thank you so much, dear! I hope you are having a splendid February, and if you celebrate Valentine's Day that it is full of much love for you! <3

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Tip of His Tongue (Legolas x Reader)

Summary - Another inexperienced prince learning how to pleasure a woman.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader, fem!reader, mention of female genitalia (reader), oral sex (reader receiving), weird descriptions (like always), lowkey brat!Legolas, slight edging (possibly), teasing, face riding, inexperienced!Legolas, dom!Reader, sub!Legolas, dom/sub dynamics, a hint of praise kink if you squint (Legolas), implied squirting (Legolas drowns in it, RIP).

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person

Word Count - 3,000+ (almost 3.1k but a little under)

A/N - Another suggested smut! "legolas learns to eat pussy. that's it." — (anonymous) Thank you for the suggestion, I hope you enjoy! I apologize that it is taking me a while to get smuts out, my health got a bit wonky which made it hard for me to focus on writing for long periods of time. I did manage to get through some other non-writing projects that had been in limbo, so it was not entirely wasted time. I am still in the process of writing some suggestions as this is being written, so thank you all for your patience and for your kindness! I am horrendous at replying to asks, but rest assured that I have seen each one and will be hoarding the kind words like a dragon hoards treasure (because you all are precious gems <3). Reader has no defining features other than soft lips, a round ass, and I will die on the hill that Legolas would not care if you smoother him. Smut below the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

As the chilled caress of night air roamed against your skin, allowing the sensitive buds upon your chest to harden beneath the bitter nip of its touch, a heated gust cast down upon the exposed flesh of your cunt—shielding it from the night's bitter touch.

It was an uneven—anxious—breath. It rained down upon your glistening hole, causing it to appear as if it were sparkling beneath the orange hue of firelight, yet ever so slightly shielded by the shadow that loomed above. The warming caress of heated breath inched closer to the moistened hole—seeming to be drooling in anticipation under the anxious heat of the elven prince's breath as his lips neared it.

The elven prince's lips parted slightly, allowing the tip of his tongue to slip through the pearly gates of his teeth—swiping at the flesh of his lower lip as the weight of his head delved further between the plushness of your thighs—seeking out the sweet nectar hidden betwixt them. The warmth of his breath inched closer to the source of your lust; the tips of your toes curled in anticipation as the heat continued to rain down upon your eagerly awaiting hole.

A wait that was not for long, as the prince's restraint had begun to fray the moment he had laid eyes upon the delicious sight of your exposed cunt—drooling and eagerly awaiting the moistened caress of his unskilled tongue.

The wet glide of the elven prince's tongue swiped against the sweetened tang of your nectar; the act was a sudden, almost sharp, swipe. It was unplanned, a test of his actions as his ocean eyes bore up at you—sparkling amidst the sea of eagerness was the twinge of desperation as he awaited your response.

"Slowly." The word left your lips in a gentle breath, nearly sounding amused as you began to instruct the typically skilled prince. "Follow my lead." The bed let out a soft creak as your weight shifted upon it—your back curving forward, allowing the wetness of your arousal to press against the prince's tongue, flattening the moistened muscle slightly in the process for better leverage.

It did not take long for the air to fill with the harmony of the wooden frame creaking in sync with your weight as you rose and lowered the length of your cunt against the wetness of his tongue. The taste of your arousal was distinct; it was sweet whilst also holding a bitter tang amidst the sea of other various flavors, ones the elven prince had never tasted in his life prior—yet now they coated every taste bud upon his unskilled tongue as you guided him in the dance of oral pleasure.

Amid your guidance, the grasp you had mindlessly placed upon the smoothened sheets beneath you began to ease. A singular hand lost all hold over the luxurious cloth and quickly found itself tangled within the sea of silken locks upon the elven prince's head—furthering the leverage you held upon him as you continued to puppet him to your pleasure.

"There we go," A familiar heat began to spread throughout your hips as you breathed that small praise, yet your motions did not cease. "something like that..." The words were nothing but air escaping your lips as your neck began to crane backward, the weight of your head seeking out the plushness of the pillows beneath him as your hips continued to rock against the elven prince's face.

The praise was not lost within the chilled embrace of the night's air that it was breathed into: as ever the eager student, the prince began to mimic the motions you led him in moments ago. And it had started on a good note; the wetness of his tongue continued to lap against the length of your cunt, savoring the sweet nectar that seeped forth from it—acting much like a spoiled cat would with some cream. The motions were as slow as you had shown him, copying the exact motions you had done prior in the dance of pleasure—licking from the very top of your folds, swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves within them, and then slowly lowering to the hole that drooled so prettily for him.

Yet, the elven prince quickly found his pacing, growing more and more confident within the folds of your wetness.

It was a gradual change, the course no longer fixating on the entirety of your cunt as it quickly began to fixate on one location in particular—the drenched flesh that surrounded your leaking entrance. The sensitive circle of flesh leaked eagerly in anticipation as the focus fell upon it; it yearned for the internal caress of the prince's tongue—or other appendages—yet it was left in that state as the moistened appendage refused to delve within.

No. Rather than be embraced by the sweet, warming embrace of your inner walls—it remained upon the thin outer layer of flesh, merely circling it. The tip of his tongue grazed against your needy hole in a slow circle around the sensitive lining of your wetness, allowing it to catch every droplet of your sweet nectar as it escaped from your center.

"Fuck." The word escaped your lips in an irritated breath as the weight of your hips began to quiver from the slow strokes of the elf's tongue. Yet, the sound of your irritation did not seem to sway the prince from his actions, rather, the sound of your displeasure appeared to further his ministrations in tracing circles around your sensitive opening.

"Move." You instructed—the word escaping your lips in a mewled tone. The swaying of your hips grew more mindless against the patterns of his tongue, attempting to lure him into the warmth of your center. Yet the attempts were unfruitful as the wettened muscle of the prince's mouth refused to delve within your depths of pleasure, regardless of the beautiful ways your hips swayed against the smoothness of his face.

It would always be a breath away, the glistening entrance practically rested upon the tip of his tongue, allowing the elf to apply the faintest amount of pressure against the willing, needy hole as it flattened against it—the very first taste buds upon the tip becoming coated with the taste of your lust in the process, yet the others only lingered with the memory with the sweet metallic taste of your arousal. As before any further could become soaked in your arousal—to become welcomed in your caverns of pleasure—the prince's head would shift in the slightest of manners, refusing to give you the internal caress that you so desperately craved.

The warmth of pleasure that had once spread throughout your body began to shift into another heat, irritation.

A groan fell from your soft lips as the weight of your hips shifted against the moistness of his tongue, nearly chasing after it as you yearned to have the twitching muscle slide into your aching core. Yet, much to your dismay, the prince continued to lead you in a game of cat and mouse; shifting, swaying away from your pleasure—inching back the moment before his moistened length could sink into the overflowing fountain of your lust.

Fine. If that was how the prince wished to play his hand.

The grasp you had held upon the back of the elf's head began to tighten, at first a warning grasp to remind him of his place—yet you were soon able to see that a mere squeeze was not enough. It quickly firmed, knuckles clenching around the smooth locks as the tips of your nails began to dig into his sensitive scalp—the bitter sting of them lighting piercing the flesh of his head allowed for a hiss to vibrate against your moistened hole. A sensation that caused a shiver of pleasure to roam down the length of your spine.

"Up."The singular word hard barely lingered in the chilled air long enough for the elf to process it before the sudden, sharp tug of his golden locks forced his head backward. The action exposed every inch of the prince's slender neck to your eye as his head craned backward, yet your gaze fell upon the center of his neck—watching as the ball beneath his skill bobbed as he swallowed down a breath, as he anxiously awaited what would follow.

"Now." The elf swiftly rose from his knees at your command, his ocean gaze never leaving yours as his body straightened from the old, wooden floor beneath him—the grasp you held upon the back of his head never ceasing as he did so, merely tightening as you, yourself, shifted into a more comfortable seated position upon the bed's plushness—the blue heat of his ocean-colored eyes burnt into your exposed flesh as the prince eagerly watched how it shifted upon the softness of the bed beneath you.

"On the bed." The elven prince followed your second command as swiftly, and as eagerly, as he had followed the first. The anxious heat of anticipation emanated off of his tall, slender form as he inched closer to you; soon joining your side upon the softness of the mattress. The bed groaned as the weight of his body sat beside you, the mattress sinking inward slightly as he shifted upon the bedding as expectancy arose within him—the tight grasp you held upon his silken locks remained tight throughout this.

The tips of your nails found themselves digging deeper within the sensitive scalp of the blonde's head, embedding themselves with a snug pinch as the weight of his head was suddenly pulled backward—forcing the elf down upon the mattress. The curve of his back pressed firmly against it, his once burning gaze upon you now forced upon the sight of the old ceiling above whilst your grip remained firm upon the elf's head.

"And here I thought you would be easy to teach." The corners of your lips threatened to curve into a smirk, twitching in anticipation as you gazed upon the once powerful elven prince who laid weakened within the clutch of your palm—neck craned, eyes wide, and breath hitching within the back of his throat. Yet, you had managed to keep the corners lowered; wishing to keep your enjoyment of the elf's teasing secret.

"Regardless," The mattress creaked as your position shifted upon it, yet this was not any mere position that your body had contorted into. No. "you will learn." The weight of your heavenly figure had departed from the plushness beneath you, finding itself onto the sharpness of the elf's face—straddling it.

The plushness of your thighs encased the sides of his face, the heat of your cunt a breath away from his thin lips—lips which glid against your moistened folds as you lowered yourself upon him. The softness of his lips parting sent a shiver down your spine as the tip of his moistened muscle slid out from between the pink gates of his mouth—it swiped against your leaking entrance as if seeking permission to delve into the drenched cavern of your lust. "All the way." A command that did not need to be repeated, nor did it need to linger within the air for a moment longer as the length of the elf's inexperienced tongue dove into the wetness of your center.

A sensation you had been yearning for since this had all begun.

The act was not as swift as when the prince's tongue swiped against the length of your cunt—a shiver ran down your spine at the reminder of the act—it still held a decent pace. Every centimeter of the moist muscle eased into the warmth of your pleasure, lingering within the grasp of your welcoming walls for a few moments before the next slowly took its place within your depths.

And though the action was gradual, the elven prince adjusting to how the tang of your arousal coated every bud upon his tongue as he sunk into you, he did not dare to tease you any further—not wishing to anger the woman who straddled his face.

A satisfied groan rumbled deep within your chest, the noise slipping through the softness of your lips upon an exhale as the weight of your head fell backward—neck craning just as the prince's was—as you sunk further into the wettened internal caress. The flesh of your thighs tightened slightly around the sides of the elf's head, applying a faint pressure to his sharp, sensitive ears as you danced upon his tongue.

As a steady pattern began to form within the mindless swaying of your hips, the prince's moist muscle began to explore the inner workings of the walls of your lust. The patterns and pace he made held no true rhyme or reason—a swirl here, a flick against there, and darting in any position he could—but soon, one began to form as you led him in the dance of your pleasure.

The grasp you held upon the elf's head tightened, the tips of your nails piercing against his scalp—enough to leave angry reddened marks in their wake—as the puppeteering of his head returned. An act that caused the pleasurable vibrations of the prince's pained hiss to echo against your wet folds; the tips of your toes curling at the pulsation against your cunt as the dance of pleasure began to rise in tempo—soreness be damned.

As your hips rocked and rolled with rising speed, the bed continued to creak and groan under the vast movements, the weight of your cunt pressed further into the curvatures of his face, sinking into the sways of pleasure. An act that the prince met with the quickening motions of his tongue inside the walls of your sopping entrance. It jutted, flicked, and swirled within—soon finding itself scraping against the most sensitive spots within your core, before returning to the unplanned swirling within the hold of your warmth.

It danced within you, similarly to how you danced upon his face, guided by the silent symphony of pleasure—a tune heard by known yet known by all, accompanied by choruses only the soul knew to vocalize into the most beautiful, strained tunes of lust-driven gratification.

"Shit—" The word found itself caught within the back of your throat, hovering within the length of your neck for a few moments before it was pushed out by the rushing sound of pleasure that was your strained moan. The pace at which your hips moved had begun to shift as the heat of soreness within your hips began to burn with a new warmth—the warmth of nearing.

The fluidity of your motions began to lack, turning to sharper—almost stuttering-like—motions as the weight of your body pressed further onto the elf's face; the pressure of nearing completion made it hard to care, let alone pay attention to, keeping the prince's airway free—but he did not care.

Emboldened, the prince's slender hands found themselves upon the rounded flesh of your rear. The tips of his fingers dug into the plumpness of your arse, pulling it further against the smoothness of his skin whilst you continued to ride his tongue to your pleasure—his tongue curling inside of the walls leading towards your womb, scraping against one of your many sensitive spots.

A gasp fell from your lips at the sensation, a sound that soon masked with a deep groan of pleasure that rumbled forth from the center of your chest; the pace your hips held was fast and sloppy—the weight of your cunt pressed firmly against his parted lips, the essence of your pleasure coating his amateurish tongue whilst it continued to curl within you.

As the familiar tingle of pleasure began to rise from the tips of your toes, the piercing grasp you had held upon the prince's head had managed to tighten further, the skin around your knuckles tightening—almost revealing the bone—as you held onto his golden locks as if they were your only anchor from being whisked away into the sea of pleasure. The weight of his head rested within your palm as the weight of your cunt rested upon his lower face. The motions of your hips turned from that of stuttering into bucking motions, jolting up into the curving of the wet muscle as it scraped against one of your sweetest spots. The pleasurable tingling that roamed throughout your veins swiftly turned into the scorching burn of anticipation.

The static's intensity grew harsher, the burn within you brighter than that of a bonfire as every flick, every curve of the prince's novice tongue added tinder to the fire that spread rampant throughout your veins.

And, with the final flick of his tongue, you were consumed by the fire of ecstasy.

The familiar embrace of pleasure turned all to static, even the sounds of your incoherent moans as they danced within the air—and the hiss of the prince's lips as your nails continued to claw upon the back of his head, further angering the reddened marks the tips of your nails had left behind prior. All sensation had left your body; it felt as if your very essence had been whisked away within the chilled night's gentle breeze, yet still grounded upon the elf's face as your pleasure rained onto his tongue—drowning him in your pleasure, as you sank into the sea.

It felt as if all time had stopped whilst also speeding up all at once. As if you were everything, but nothing.

The sounds that escaped through your softened lips were incoherent, primal—a song from your soul orchestrated by the unskilled prince's tongue.

The bitter nip of chilled air slowly guided your essence back into your quivering form, the fire of pleasure being quenched by its numbing caress—yet the heavenly tingle of ecstasy continued to dance quietly within your veins. The sensations within your body slowly began to return, the weight of your figure feeling as if was weighed down by many heavy stones as you struggled to lift your quivering form off of the elf's face—the essence of your pleasure trickling forth from the corners of his thin lips, rolling down his sharp chin as he swallowed down a mouthful of your liquid ecstasy.

The bed creaked loudly as the weight of your body flopped onto it, the burning heat of your exposed form emanating beside the elven prince's head; the sound of your shared, uneven attempt of returning breaths danced within the night's air—both stunned at the prince's prowess.

He was truly a natural at his craft.

[rottencherrypie]

how many kids do thranduil and the reader have in ‘overbred’

Hello dear! The amount of children is up to each individual reader's interpretation, though it could be read as them having at least one child together (or a brief mention of Legolas) towards the end.

So, in short: it is any amount each reader chooses as Overbred will be a one-shot (unless I decide to make a second part in the future).

Thank you for your interest in my writings, I appreciate your time. I hope you have a lovely week <3

[rottencherrypie]

In your opinion how old is the company in human years ? ‘cause like saw something saying kili and filo were 18 and 19 and my 22 year old ass fell off the seat

Hello, dear! I have been dying to talk about my headcanon ages for the company, so thank you for this ask! I rambled on a lot, so my apologies for that, but here are my opinions (and a few chaotic reasonings) on their ages! (Fingers crossed I remembered them all and did not mix-up any names!)

Bilbo - Mid thirties to early forties; around the age most people would deem as a true "adult" and to be expected to know what you are doing with your life. (he does not) Still has whiplash from being called "sir".

Thorin - Around mid forties; old enough to be taken seriously and seen as a "stable adult" whilst also old enough to have any stupid thing he does excused as a "mid-life crisis". (cries when he is not carded for a drink but is also offended when you do not card him for his drink; there is no winning.)

Fili - Around his mid twenties; old enough to be seen as more mature, but also young enough to go to college parties without sticking out like a sore thumb. Still has the metabolism to drink all night without a hangover, but is slowly starting to get the aches and pains associated with aging. (He was horrified to learn that with aging means slower healing.) Is a couple years older than Kili (about two to four years older; old enough to have memories of baby!Kili and to say "when I was your age" to Kili and somewhat be taken seriously, but most of the time is met with "I know, I was there!")

Kili - Early twenties; about twenty-one to anywhere around twenty-three. He is in the peak of being seen as an adult during somewhat serious things (i.e. making doctors appointments by himself) but is also not trusted with actual serious things or view points (hears "you'll understand when you're older" more often than not). Very much golden retriever frat bros energy with him and Fili, though Fili is always pulling him out of some sticky situations.

Ori - Early twenties too; about twenty to twenty-two, just a little bit younger than Kili (but Kili always gloats about it and says "when I was your age" and describes what he was doing a few months ago.) Sweet baby boy is treated much younger than he is simply because he is the company's "baby", but is also treated with a bit more seriously than Kili (simply because Kili pulls way too many pranks). (Side note; Ori absolutely runs a little crochet and knitting business, absolute craftsmanship. An absolute beast on Etsy.)

Dwalin - Late forties to early fifties; older than Thorin but young enough to be going through similar life events. Is taken very seriously (and sometimes does not know why), can easily pass for mid forties (secretly has an intensive skincare routine). (Will become very insulted if you refer to him as an old man...but also calls himself an old man when he pleases.)

Dori - Sixty-five; that is the age he gives over and over regardless of how many birthdays he has had (he will never reveal his true age but many guess it is actually early seventies). Is old enough to remember baby!Thorin (and the chaos he caused). Still has energy to go on adventures...but might need several breaks and promised rest stops just in case. (His bones ache, give the man some pain killers and a heating pad.)

Nori - Late thirties to early forties; was old enough to hold the babies of the group (Ori, Kili, and Fili) but still young enough to be paid to watch them. Sort of grew up around the babies of the group, so they often went to him for advice (and their secrets). Is on the peak of having any actions he does that are a bit "out there" as a mid-life crisis but not just there yet.

Bofur - Late thirties to early forties; just like Nori, he was old enough to hold the babies of the group and young enough to be paid to watch them. They also went to Bofur for advice, but also for the cool toys and trinkets he made (would also do numbers on Etsy). Is a year or so younger than Nori, so has to deal with the "when I was your age" nonsense from him.

Balin - Early to mid seventies; was in his mid-thirties when baby!Thorin was born (and how he adored the little dwarfling...even if baby!Thorin was notorious for pulling hair with an iron grasp) and is seen as a father figure to many of the company. Very wise, but would absolutely fall for those pop-ups on websites (Balin, the hot singles are not in your area! It's a trap! Save yourself!). Would accidentally post photos of himself on TikTok with a weird sound automatically added to it, or accidentally go live when trying to take a photo/video of something. (His posts would thrive on r/oldpeoplefacebook)

Bombur - Late forties to early fifties; the man is peak father energy. Gives "the one cool dad at the soccer games with all the drinks and snacks" vibes (you bet your ass he memorized everyone's dietary needs and allergies, and buys/makes appropriate snacks.) Was old enough to remember baby!Thorin but could only hold him while sitting with several different adults in the room. (Once tried to waddle off with baby!Thorin and take him to the kitchen for snacks, accidentally caused chaos as everyone though Thorin got kidnapped for a second. He had good intentions.) Is seen as a "trusted adult" but also the "cool adult". Is trusted with various secrets (even when he would rather not hear them).

Bifur - Early to mid fifties; a few years older than Bombur, think old enough to be seen as the "cool older kid" back when they were young. Gives me the vibes of someone in between generations and is constantly dragged into the nonsense of "only x kids remember y" and then being told he isn't a real "x year" kid because he was born very late in it. (It gives him a larger headache than the axe in his head.) Does get bad hangovers, but that does not stop him from chugging as much ale as he can get his hands on. (Regrets it the morning after.)

Oin - Mid seventies; is viewed as a senior citizen and hates it...until he gets a discount, then he will play up the age card. Remembers everyone as a baby (and their awkward teen years), and is in the weird in-between of being viewed as a wise adult and being seen as a frail old man (call him an old man and he will bonk you with his ear horn). Surprisingly does not get hang overs and is pretty energetic for his age (for the love of the gods, do not mention his age). Will tell you stories if you ask, especially if you ask him about what has changed in Erebor (will give you a guided tour that ends with you running after him as he speeds through the halls). (Somehow I can see him being a really popular Twitch streamer, that is the only time he finds it acceptable being called "grandpa" by anyone other than his grandbabies)

Gloin - Mid sixties; was a surprise baby (about ten years, if not more, between Oin's birth and his), but was cherished for it. Could easily pass for mid fifties, but has the actions of someone older which gives it away (was very confused when Kili said he knew Gloin was older because "he walks like an old man", proceeded to practice walking for an hour). Can reveal Dori's real age, but doesn't for fun. Would post those weird thirst traps on TikTok (also wood chopping videos and just videos of him ranting about stuff only two people know about, but would have like 200k+ followers for some reason.) Was blessed with the good genes (does not gray regardless of how stressed he is...lucky bastard). (Is still viewed as Oin's "baby brother" despite them both being old men, it is precious)

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Overbred (Thranduil x Reader)

Summary - The elven king enjoys internally marking what is his...even if he had already marked her several times prior.

Warnings - Smut (pretty much pure porn with a sprinkle of plot if you squint), language, afab!reader, fem!reader, breeding kink (heavy breeding kink), heavily implied and referenced previous sex, mention of male genitalia (Thranduil), mention of female genitalia (Reader), mention of a womb (Reader), rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, sub!Reader, dom!Thranduil, wife!Reader, husband!Thranduil, slightly implied mom!Reader (could be read that way if you squint near the end?), overstimulation (RIP reader's pussy), possessive!Thranduil, potentially dark!Thranduil (could give off that vibe), lowkey mean!Thranduil (I do not know how that happened but it did), slight feral!Thranduil, mention of bodily fluids (a lot), delayed orgasm (Reader, I do not know why I keep writing delayed orgasms recently),pet names (Reader is called pet, pretty girl, and a good girl), creampie (so many creampies you could open up a bakery), breeding kink, lowkey claiming kink (is that a thing?), doggystyle position (or at least bent over), slight praise kink, slight semi-public sex (the elves can hear y'all but they mind their own business), mentions of pregnancy, and maybe more.

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person

Word Count - 1,500+ (took me way longer to write than I'd like to admit)

A/N - Another suggested smut! "I'm not sure if you're alright with it but like them trying I conceive or something similar to it?" — (anonymous) I feel like this smut went a bit off from the original suggestion but I made sure to keep the breeding kink aspect you requested! (I am still trying to figure out the best way to add in request prompts and their kinks!) The reader is described to have a plump ass, soft lips, hair on the back of their neck, and being overstimulated from previous sex; other than that there is no defining features. Smut below!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

A layer of sweat glistened upon your quivering form, sweaty palms sliding against the silken sheets beneath you —struggling to keep your plump arse in the air as was instructed by the elven king. The squelching click of pleasure danced throughout the woodland halls, catching within the sensitive ears of whoever dared near the elven king's chambers—yet they all knew better than to interrupt the king in the midst of breeding his wife.

His seed sloshed within your quivering inner walls, swishing against them with each snap of the king's hips as they jutted against the plumpness of your arse—jolting you forwards, causing your chest to graze against the smoothness beneath you. The pace his hips held was steady yet feral.

It appeared that the king had lost all care of how much of his seed leaked from your womb—the inner flesh of your thighs now drenched in a thick, creamy layer of whiteness as he pushed rope after rope into your overflowing cunt. No, it was no longer about simply breeding you; it was about owning you.

A low growl escaped from the king's thin lips as another stream of his release flooded your overworked cunt; making it feel as if it would burst at the seams at any moment. "Mine." The heat of his breath tickled the back of your neck, causing the hairs upon it to stand up as a shiver roamed down your spine—though that was hard to see among the sea of quivering you faced.

A strained mewl of pleasure fell from your soft lips as you felt the angered head of his cock ram against your most sensitive, spongy spot for the hundredth time. The sensation made a tingling arise from the tips of your toes, one that was once pleasurable but now came with the burn of overstimulation.

Your breath hitched within your throat as the tips of your nails dug into the smoothen cloth beneath you—piercing into the fibers of the silken sheets as you felt the king's hip bones jut into the flesh of your arse. The outer ring of your cunt felt as if it was splitting at the seams, stretched to its limits, as it choked upon the girth of the king's length.

It sobbed upon the hardness of flesh; a once drool of pleasure had quickly turned to a waterfall of nearly torturous arousal. Every inch of your being, every fiber and cell within your flesh and bone, felt as if it had been set ablaze by each stroke of your overworked inner flesh.

"Thranduil..." His name left your lips in a strained cry, choking within the back of your throat as yet another forced moan bubbled to the surface—your hands clawed at the silk beneath you, sliding slightly under the moistened grasp of your palms as you desperately attempted not to get whisked away by the raging sea of pleasure.

"That's it." The heat of the king's purr grazed against the shell of your ear as he leaned closer, pressing even more of his weight into every deep thrust—your inner walls split to their limits as an endless cascade of his seed dripped onto the bedding beneath you. "Cry for me." The heat neared your ear, inching closer and closer as the squelching slap of sex danced throughout the air.

Desperate to keep the burn of pleasure at bay, the grasp you held upon the sheets tightened further—a faint tear of the silken cloth briefly hung within the air before being masked by the slapping sound of the elven king's hips jutting against your plump arse.

The grasp of your hands was not the only one that tightened within that moment; your inner walls clenched around his length, allowing you to feel each ridge and vein upon it—feeling the racing beat of his heart within each throb of his speeding cock. The muscles within your jaw began to clench at the sensation. The hypnotizing beat of his cock accompanied by the relentless assault of the throbbing, mushroom-shaped head against the most sensitive spot within your aching core, was driving you toward the edge faster than you could resist.

A feral snarl rumbled within the elven king's chest as he leaned further into you, pushing you onto your forearms—nearly flush against the bed—as he continued his relentless actions. The bed creaked and shook at an alarming rate—the thumping of the headboard almost masked the booming slap of the king's full sack against your ass.

"You're mine." The snarled words made a shiver roam down your spine—and your inner walls flutter around his throbbing length. "Only mine." He continued, punctuating every syllable with a sharp thrust of his hips. "Mine to love. Mine to fuck. Mine to breed." He continued both in speech and punctuation of his hips.

Tears began to prick within the corners of your eyes, threatening to overflow as your molars clenched around the flesh of your inner cheeks. "Gods! Thraduil, I—fuck!" The sudden pinch of his teeth nipping against the lobe of your ear jolted you forwards, allowing some of his length to slip out of the sticky warmth of your cunt in the process.

"Where do you think you're going?" He breathed against the shell of your ear as one of his slender hands grasped onto the flesh of your hip whilst the other slipped beneath you—creating a barrier between you and the bedding. The pressure of his palm beneath you pressed against your lower stomach, feeling the slight protrusion of it due to the endless bouts of seed he had shot into your womb.

As the king held you in his firm grasp, his throbbing cock continuing to carve away within the depths of your inner walls, the burn you had kept at bay for so long quickly grew uncontrollable. It was as if every cell within your being was vibrating as the burn spread throughout your core, seeping into your veins as hot tears began to stream down your cheeks.

The grasp your molars held upon the inner flesh of your cheeks returned, muffling the strained sobs of your pleasure behind the pearly gates as you writhed within the king's grasp. Every inch of you felt hot—as if it were on fire.

Beads of sweat trickled down from your forehead, catching within your furrowed brow as your face contorted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. The grasp your molars held upon the inner flesh of your cheeks tightened, allowing the familiar metallic taste of your blood to coat your tongue. Yet the burn of your pleasure quickly masked the sting within your mouth.

The king's hand began to slowly glide lower, a sensation almost missed if not for the bunching of the sheets beneath you. His hand continued to inch lower and lower, the tip of his calloused thumb sliding against your quivering flesh as it followed the path down to your soaked folds—sticky and raw, the slightest movement of his thumb sent shock waves throughout your body.

His thumb did not stall, finding its way between your folds as it sought out your aching, overworked clit.

It did not take long for the roughness of his thumb to press into the raw, twitching bundle of nerves. The slow massage of his thumb against your clit caused all breath within your lungs to stall in the back of your throat as the burn you desperately attempted to resist finally took control.

A strained sob forced itself through your plump lips, the weight of your forearms giving out as the sweet nectar of your pleasure flowed forth—enlarging the growing puddle of pleasure beneath you. A white, creamy ring of the mixed pleasure between you two wrapped around the base of his cock, slowly dripping onto his sack as he continued to thrust into you—soon to add to the large stain upon the bed.

A familiar ringing filled the air as the weight of your body slumped further against the dirtied silk, pressing the flesh of your face into the drool-soaked pillow before you—the heat of your breath bouncing off the smooth pillowcase, catching on the stickiness of your sweaty skin as you mewled in pleasure against it.

The deep rumbling of the elven king's laughter managed to break through the ringing that filled your ears, an anchor throughout the sticky sea of pleasure.

"We're not done yet, pet." Thranduil breathed into your ear, furthering the quivering of your overstimulated figure. The pressure of his rough thumb never ceased from your clit, turning the quickened patterns into drawn-out ones as the pacing within his hips began to slow—giving you a brief moment of clarity. "We must ensure you will be round and full with my seed. You want that, don't you, pretty girl? To birth more heirs for the throne? To be swollen with my child once more?" The weight of your head mindlessly bobbed in agreement against the smoothness of the dirtied pillowcase.

"That's my good girl. My perfect girl. So good for me." His praise replenished your energy, ensuring you could last another round with the insatiable king—blissfully unaware of how many rounds were to come.

[rottencherrypie]

Hey I could be completely wrong but are you @decayedcherries on TikTok? There aren’t many hobbit or lotr fan accounts and I just thought the names sounded really similar.

Anyways I absolutely love all ur stuff on here and am currently binge reading it all to feed new recent my obsession with the hobbit/lotr, specifically thandruil, thorin, Legolas and kili 🤭😩

Hello, dear! I am so honored that you enjoy my writings, and you are correct; I am @decayedcherries on TikTok

I have been meaning to make a post on there about returning to writing fanfiction for a while, but I have been struggling with edits lately. Regardless of that, it is a pleasure to have you here <3

I am sending you lots of good vibes and well wishes; I hope you enjoy your stay in my chaotic little nook of the internet <3

[rottencherrypie]

okay but hear me out, Kili and the song It’s Only Sex by Car Seat Headrest 🧎‍♀️

R-18+; It's Only Sex (No, It's Not) (Kili x Reader)

Summary - Only sex. That's what is was supposed to be between you and Kili, but it turns out he went into this deal already wanting more.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader, fem!reader, leans more Modern AU (but nothing defining other than cigarettes), angsty (starts a bit angsty), yearning (Kili), simp!Kili (the man wants to be loved), reader is smoking (in both meaning hot and in the addiction way), poorly written smoking descriptions (I cannot smoke), implied previous sex, awkward dialogue (I feed on the cringe), poorly written kissing descriptions, french kissing, mention of female genitalia (reader), mention of nipples (reader), mention of male genitalia (Kili), handjob (Kili receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, a pinch of dom!reader, a pinch of sub!Kili, a hint of dom!Kili (towards the very end), slight orgasm denial (not on purpose, reader just struggles to orgasm at one part), mention of bodily fluids (reader and Kili), creampie, and maybe more (I got way too into this).

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person (leans more Kili)

Word Count - 3,200+ (I got very into this)

A/N - I had never heard this song before this ask, and now I thank you greatly for introducing me to it as I have been searching for new music to listen to for a while now! This ask got me out of the depths of a deep writer's block, so I am sending you lots of virtual hugs and thanks for this! I do apologize if this is not what you were envisioning, but I hope you still enjoy the read! The reader has no defining features other than soft lips, flesh that jiggles while bouncing on dick, and being a smoker. Smut below!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

The scent of burnt ash swirled in the air, accompanied by the blueish-grey clouds of smoke that danced within it. The smoke danced with a hypnotic sway, one barely noticeable by the naked eye due to the faint orange glow that filled the room from the fireplace.

Though the thickness of smoke weighed heavy within the night's air, nothing weighed heavier than the tension between you and the auburn-haired man beside you.

The heat of his honey-colored gaze burnt into your delectable figure, watching as your soft lips wrapped around the slender cylinder. Your chest slowly expanded as you inhaled the thick smoke, the lids of your eyes fluttering closed for a split second as you savored the bitter, earthy flavor that flooded your lungs. As you held the smoke within your mouth, the weight of your hand dropped from your lips—the slender cylinder hovering inches away, the thick smoke dancing within the air like an incense, masking the smell of sex as it continued to sway.

The gray cloud grew larger as you released the smoke from your lips, adding to the dance above you before the gentle breeze of the night's air whisked it away—only the lingering scent of its smoke a reminder of where it had once been.

Rinse and repeat.

All the while, the pair of honey-colored eyes never left your beautiful figure. It was as if you were carved by the gods, every inch of you pure perfection—every curve a masterpiece, every 'imperfection' added to your beauty, and your face the most treasured part within the sculpture. Within his eyes, you were utter perfection—a goddess amongst immortals, the moon amongst stars, a siren within the coldness of the sea—yet he hadn't the courage to utter a single word.

What you were was just sex—only sex.

A sigh fell from his thin lips, his gaze drifting away from the softness of your lips and following the trail of smoke that left them. Watching as the gray swirl was whisked away by the chilled embrace of the night's air, yearning to embrace you in the very manner it was.

"What's wrong?" The melody of your voice broke through the sea of his thoughts, turning it into a muffled whisper rather than the overwhelming screams of yearning. "You never stare at the ceiling after. Did I do something wrong?" As you rose to sitting, the bed creaked beneath the shifting weight, a sound that would typically draw Kili's attention to you—yet it remained on the bland ceiling above.

"Just...thinking." He spoke, the tone of his voice not one you had heard before. The usual confidence that dripped off each word was now a drought, and the loudness of his voice was no louder than a whisper. It was distant as if he was a thousand miles away whilst still lying beside you.

"Of?" You questioned. The bed creaked beneath your body as you leaned closer to him. The heat of your figure emitted onto him, warming his equally chilled body as you inched closer to contact, yet never fully touching him—a wordless reminder of how close you were to being his, yet how he could never fully have you.

"Us."

The single word sent a chill down your spine, a sensation which caused the buds of your nipples to harden—though it could be argued that was due to the bitter nip of winter air grazing against them.

"Us?" You questioned, a brow raising in his direction as you raised the slender cylinder to your lips. Attempting to drown the awkwardness that clung in the air with a sea of smoke.

"Us." He repeated as his gaze finally drifted away from the ceiling, falling back to meet your gemstone-colored one. The sparkle that was nearly always within his eyes now dimmed, only glistening under the golden hue of the fireplace yet not as lively as it had once been. The lines upon his face slightly deepened, knitted into an expression of contemplation and worry as he stared at you—yearning for you to understand him without another word.

"Okay...?" The word left your lips in a bit of a question, the weight of your brows knitted together firmly as your mind began to search for a reasoning behind this sudden—less than fun—conversation. "Just spit it out, Kili." Another sigh escaped his lips as he slowly sat up, the bed creaking again as he leaned back against the plushness of the pillows—slightly flattened from the various nights he spent tossing and turning whilst thinking of you.

"I just..." The words clung within the back of his throat as a sense of unease began to bubble up beside them. What if this ruins things? What if you didn't like what he had to suggest? The soft blur of his auburn hair caught within your view as he attempted to shake his thoughts away. "I want more." He managed to utter, yet the words were no louder than a whisper—laced with the slightest waver of unease as his honey-colored eyes darted throughout the room, desperately searching for something to ground him.

"More than me?" "What?! No. No!" He quickly spoke, not allowing your question to hang in the air longer than the smoke of your cigarette. An irritated groan fell from his thin lips as he flopped further back into the plushness of pillows, causing the headboard to thump against the wall—a sound far too familiar for other reasons.

The air grew tense with every moment that passed without a word uttered. A knife would likely break if it attempted to cut the tension within the air.

Swallowing down his nerves, Kili began to speak again. "I want more...between us." His voice remained soft and uncertain, his gaze focused on the fireplace across from the bed—watching as the orange flames danced within their cage.

The weight within the air grew heavier, nearly suffocating, as a wave of unease swirled through it. The bitter taste of smoke could not drown the awkwardness that flooded your veins, the uncertainty that pounded within your heart, and how your mind seemed to agree with his.

"Kili, it's only sex—" "No, it's not." The sudden shift from uncertainty to confidence dried your mouth of all moisture, though there was little from the smoke that continued to flood it. "It has never been only sex, Y/N. Not for me." Though his gaze never left the fireplace, it was as if his words were staring into your soul.

"I have always liked you." As he began, all noise within his mind turned to static—including the speech he had planned countless times. C'mon, sexual desires, speak! He mentally cursed. "I know we said this would only ever be sex, but I only agreed because I want you. It hurts not having you." He spoke, his gaze slowly drifting away from the orange hues of the fireplace and following the trail of smoke that led to the softness of your lips.

Continuing the cycle of staring, yearning, and glancing away.

"To hold you tight." The bed creaked under the shifting of his weight as his body turned slightly, the heat of his melding with yours, yet his flesh never touched yours—as if he was more afraid of being burnt by you than the fireplace in front of his bed. "To sleep with you." As you snuffed out your cigarette, you rose a brow at the statement—allowing the words to slowly settle within his mind as your gemstone gaze burned into him.

"But in the literal sense." The words rushed out of his thin lips as a faint twinge of rouge began to paint his cheeks, the flesh of his cheeks nearly as warm as the nearby fire. "Maybe only in the literal sense for a night..." He whispered, his honey-colored gaze bore into yours as the familiar weight of silence filled the air.

And as the heaviness of nothing filled the air, nothing needed to be said.

The sudden warmth of your palm enveloped his stubbled cheek, daring him to lean into the soothing softness of your touch—yet he would not be allowed to make that decision. Before anything could be said or done, the warmth of your soft lips encased the roughness of his thin ones.

The faint taste of smoke filled his senses as the lids of his honey-colored eyes fluttered closed, the weight of his head sunk into the warmth of your palm—turning ever so slightly as your lips melded together in a hypnotizing dance for what felt like both hours and mere moments. It was as if the entire world faded, and nothing but you two existed within the moments your lips interlocked.

A warmth trickled into your veins, a sensation of peace flowing throughout them as your lips continued to meld together. Your lips parted slightly, the tip of your tongue swiping against the pearly gates of his mouth which soon parted, granting your tongue access to his warmth.

The taste of your previous pleasure still stained his mouth, a bitter yet sweet tang that you had tasted upon his lips various times—yet it felt different this time as your tongue swirled with his: a breathless dance of passion, one that soon turned sloppy and desperate.

A war fought between the softness of your lips and the roughness of his, one which had no true rhyme or reason—no need to fight, just the roaring flame of passion that had quickly turned into a raging fire.

As your lips left the roughness of his, the tingling warmth within your veins did not stop. It felt right, as if this was meant to happen—a sensation you felt each time you laid with him.

"I..." The words caught within his throat as the lids of his eyes fluttered open, there was little to be said—little that could be said—yet the kiss answered every question that had played endlessly within his mind.

The familiar taste of your lips against his further silenced all thoughts within his mind as waves of warmth rang throughout both of your bodies. The weight of his sturdy arms hung loosely behind the back of your neck as he sunk further into your lips, savoring the smoky tang of them as the prickle of his bearded cheek rubbed against the smoothness of your palm.

He was putty within your hands, prepared to be molded into whatever you desired him to be. The softness of your hand departed from his cheek, slowly gliding down the length of his neck, following the trail down to his hairy chest—a shiver roamed down his spine at the sensation as your hand firmly rested upon the curly sea of hair upon the toned mass of his chest. The weight of your palms pressed against his chest, pushing him away from your lips and turning him onto his back, causing the bed to creak: which it continued to do as you got on top of him.

The smooth warmth of your palm found its way around the throbbing hardness of his cock. A soft groan escaped Kili's lips as your grasp tightened around the hardness, soon gliding upon it with ease thanks to the lingering essence of sex that still stained his cock.

"Fuck." He breathed, the weight of his head falling back against the plushness of the pillows beneath him as the tip of your thumb grazed over the throbbing, leaking head of his cock—smearing the off-white liquid of pre-release around the reddened tip before releasing it from under the pressure of your thumb as the tightened grasp sunk to the thick base.

The hardness of his manhood throbbed within your grasp, twitching in pleasure—or perhaps a mere amount of pleasurable pain—whenever your grasp clenched around it. A wordless reminder that both his cock and him were yours, even if it was merely for sex.

As you shifted your weight, adjusting your position to one more comfortable, you rose the angered head to your dripping entrance—slowly rubbing the sensitive part against your open, leaking core. A desperate whine slipped through Kili's lips as his hands clenched around the smoothness of sheets beneath him, balling them within his fists as his muscles clenched in anticipation.

A whine soon heard as you slowly sunk yourself upon the throbbing member, feeling every inch splitting your walls open as you allowed gravity to sink it even deeper within your warm, wet, spongy core.

Your motions started slow, allowing only the smallest amount of his thickened length out of your cunt—enough to glide upon it—before you sunk yourself back down, yet they gradually began to increase in speed.

The bed creaked and groaned under each motion of your hips; the flesh of your body recoiled with each harsh motion of your hips as you continued to pleasure yourself with his length. The weight of your head began to fall back, arching your chest closer to his view as you continued to fuck yourself upon the thickness of his cock.

The air that had once filled with awkwardness and smoke now danced with the shared sounds of pleasure and the scent of sex.

"Shit." Kili uttered under his breath, the grasp he held upon the smooth sheets beneath him began to loosen as one of his hands shot up from the bed—encasing the smoothness of your hip as you continued to ride him. The grasp he held upon you was firm, an anchor to keep him from drifting away in the sea of pleasure, yet tender with subtle squeezes of affection each time the mushroom tip reached your most pleasurable spot.

As your hips rose and fell in a mindless pattern, his hips began to buck up against yours—meeting each sinking movement with a thrust, pushing his cock even deeper into your most sensitive spots. Your inner walls fluttered around his cock at the sensation, a gasp falling from your plump lips as the pace of your hips began to quicken.

A burning sensation began to spread throughout your hips—and his as well—yet you did not cease your actions; instead they increased in momentum with each pleasurable thrust he made against you. The sound of your gasps of pleasure weighed heavy within the air as the weight of your head sunk back further, hanging on by the thread of your neck as your back continued to arch into a position that would likely leave you sore tomorrow.

As the burn within your hips neared too much, the sudden rough caress of Kili's calloused thumb grazed against your swollen bundle of nerves. Your head snapped up at the sensation, your hips jolting back at the sudden touch as an electric sensation began to spread within your veins—starting from your cunt.

"Oh my—fuck!" Incoherent cries of pleasure fell from your soft lips as his calloused thumb swirled against your cunt. All motion within your hips came to a halt as you sunk to the very base of his thickened cock, allowing it to twitch and stir within the warm grasp of your soaked inner walls.

His cock remained stagnant in your cunt for only a few moments, allowing you to grow used to the pleasurable sensation of the swirls upon your clit before life returned to them. The pace he held was steady, nearly slow yet deep. It was harsh enough to cause your body to jolt—and your cunt to twitch in pleasure around his length—yet not enough to cause you pain.

That would be for a later date.

His cock continued to carve itself within you, thumping against your most special spongy spot with each stern thrust of his hips. The thrusts were calculated, as if he was attempting to prove his worthiness of you by fucking you senseless.

"Fuck! Right there, Kili!" You managed to squeak out as the leaking tip of his cock pressed into your most sensitive spot, a command he did not need to be repeated. The speed of his hips quickened, the pace they held growing more animalistic and sloppy as the lids of his eyes squeezed shut—desperately attempting to hold himself back from staining your inner walls white with his seed in the hopes you would release before him.

As his thumb continued to swirl around your sensitive clit, applying the most pleasurable amount of pressure, your inner walls began to clench around him. Your hips mindlessly bucked against him, your breaths growing uneven as your entire body began to clench at the building sensation. A familiar, burning static began to spread throughout your body—inching closer and closer to the peak, yet staying a breath away from release.

It grew almost frustrating how close yet far you were from receiving the release you so desperately chased after—the corners of your eyes staining with tears of anticipation as your hips mindlessly rocked against his as they jutted into you. A sheen of sweat glistened upon your body, shimmering beneath the orange glow of fire as the flame of pleasure refused to rise within you—a sensation you both liked and disliked.

"Fucking hell—please, please, please—" You chanted mindlessly as Kili continued to pound into you. The mindless pleading was directed towards no one directly, though it sent a wave of pleasure throughout Kili's body as he sunk further into the grasp of your drenched cunt—savoring the momentary power you had given him.

"Do it." He breathed, the bed creaking yet again as he shifted himself into a sitting position. His grasp never left your hip, and his thumb never left your clit as it swirled upon it. The heat of his breath grazed against the sensitive flesh of your chest as he leaned up to you, the lids of his eyes opening allowing his honey-colored gaze to finally meet yours as he pounded into you—watching how your face contorted in pleasure each time his throbbing length jutted into you.

"Let go." The short sentence was all it took to send you over the edge of pleasure, a familiar static burnt throughout your very being as the essence of your pleasure drenched down upon your length—soaking upon his sack as he continued to buck into you.

Though the room felt heavy, you felt weightless—as if you were but the same gray smoke that once danced throughout the air. All had turned to static to you, even the sound of your cries of pleasure and the hiss Kili made as your nails dug into the sturdiness of his shoulders—you could not remember when you had grabbed hold of him, but the angered marks your nails left in their wake proved you had.

As you slowly came down from the floating high of pleasure, the warmth of his seed flooded into your womb. Your inner walls clenched and quivered around him in response, pushing most out and staining his balls and the sheets beneath him in the process—yet he cared not about it.

The heat of his breath melded with yours, breathing in the air of each other's pleasure as you stared at one another mindlessly. The warmth of his hand departed from the flesh of your hip—the other now hovering above your clit—as it slowly rose to the softness of your cheek, encasing the heated flesh in a tender touch as his eyes bore into yours.

Though no word was spoken, everything was said in those breaths. A connection that could not be denied by either side; it was more than only sex.

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; To The Hilt (Fili x Reader)

Summary - Fili cheers you up with the help of his sword.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!Reader, mention of female genitalia (reader), brief mention of male genitalia (Fili), mention of bodily fluids (reader), wife!Reader, husband!Fili, sub/dom dynamics, soft dom!Fili (he loves his wife), semi-public sex, hair pulling (Fili's mustache), slight praise (reader receiving), pet names (reader is called a good girl and love), reader whines a lot, vaginal stimulation with foreign object (sword's hilt), implied and referenced previous negative self-talk, slight mean dom!Fili (towards the very end).

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person

Word Count - 1,900+

A/N - Another suggested smut! "i really don’t have a exact idea for plot all i want is fili fucking reader with the hilt of his sword. need this. but maybe like reader is feeling down and fili just wants to make her happy with a good fuck :)" - (anonymous) I hope this lives up to your expectations, I struggled a tad with the hilt but I did my best! I apologize that I have been a bit slow with coming out with the suggestions, the holiday season had been more chaotic than I had prepared for. I also wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been interacting with my fics, you all have been so lovely and kind; I am sending you all my love. Reader has no defining features other than soft lips. Smut below the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

The mist of your heated breath danced throughout the bitter mountain air— a cloud of gray swayed within your view for a moment before a gust of winter air carried it further down the busy mountain halls.

A shiver roamed down the length of your spine as the weight of your head fell back against the cold smoothness of the old stone wall behind you; the exposed flesh of your legs was covered in a thin layer of goosebumps as the backs of them pressed against it firmly. Yet, your attention on the chilling touch of the wall lingered for only a moment as a different—far more pleasurable—sensation regained your wavering attention.

The thick, wooden shaft of the dwarven prince's sword slid into your willing cunt—stretching your soaked inner walls to the brim as they quivered around each thrust the golden-haired dwarf made. The motions were slow yet deep—allowing you to feel the various carvings, the chilled metal, and the varied curvatures of the sword's hilt as it sheathed itself within you.

A whimper fell from your soft lips as you felt the mass of the hilt slowly back out of your cunt, threatening to leave your inner warmth as the thick, bulbous end of the hilt stretched at the tightness of your entrance. It was large and smooth, fattened perfectly to secure the dwarf's grip—and its place inside of your cunt.

The fibers of your entrance felt as if it was tearing at the seams as the fattened end of the hilt gradually began to push out of you, yet never leaving. Only half of the hilt's end left your cunt, the metal of it being warmed by your dripping walls as your sensitive, aching cunt puckered around it—stretched in a manner you never knew possible.

It felt so full, yet so empty at the same time—the depths of your cunt clenched around nothing while your entrance trembled and drooled around the hilt's end. A low groan of pleasure fell from your lips as the dwarf slowly began to push the hilt back in, allowing your walls to be satisfied by the various stretches only the hilt could provide.

"Fili..." His name left your lips in a breath, sounding more like a desperate prayer as your trembling, sweat-dampened hands grasped at the braided hair of his mustache. The cold, smooth metal beads of his braids soothed the burning heat of your hands as you tugged against the roughness of the braids. It was a momentary anchor to reality until the textured hilt began to move again.

A groan rumbled in the center of your chest at the sensation as your walls clenched around it. The fattened end of the hilt carved within you at all angles, hitting each sensitive spot within your core upon every thrust as the varied divots and carvings allowed for a familiar tingle to spread throughout your center.

The weight of your body shifted, back arching as your cunt sunk further onto the hilt—nearing the blade yet stalled by the bulbous end of the hilt, protecting the sensitive flesh of your cunt from being torn by the blade—as your grasp upon your lover's braids tightened, tugging them down as if to control his hands. Yet, his hands continued the same slow, torturous pace.

"Fili, please." You whined, the weight of your head sinking further back against the smoothness of the stone wall. The array of markings upon your neck now on display for your lover; hickeys, bite marks, and soft bruising from his palm—a sight he always loved to see; however, it did not sway the slowness of his movements.

"You know what I want, love." The heat of his breath grazed against the sensitive flesh of your neck as you tugged him closer, as another shiver roamed down the length of your spine as the wooden hilt continued its slow speed within you. "Say it." He ordered, yet your lips did not move.

Instead, they protruded outwards slightly, forming a pout as the muscles within your legs began to tremble. "Fili..." "No, that's not it." He replied to another one of your pathetic whines, slowing the speed at which the hilt of his sword rocked within you.

"Say it." He breathed as his free hand slid across the front of your abdomen, the tips of his calloused fingers gliding down the middle of your front—leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake—as they slowly continued down the path to the mound of your cunt. Hovering mere inches above your sensitive flesh, a breath away from delving between the sopping folds of your needy cunt, they lay there taunting you—a reminder you could meet the sweet release you so desperately craved if you would only speak those three simple words.

An annoyed groan fell from your lips as your gemstone-colored eyes looped around their sockets, rolling in annoyance as you knew that your beloved husband would not allow you release until you caved to his command—damn the stubbornness of dwarves.

The softness of your lips began to part, prepared to make another annoyed whine—or a pathetic plead—but the only noise that fell forth was a gasp of pleasure as the harshness of his calloused fingertips came into contact with your sensitive, twitching bundle of nerves as the hilt began to curve within you; scraping against your most sensitive spots, causing your body to quiver further in need.

"Fine!" You choked out, the pitch of your voice rising as the muscles within your thighs tightened, straining at the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensations. "I am important." The words were no louder than a whisper, hidden beneath the quivering heat of your breath as your gaze shifted toward the floor.

"What was that?" Fili questioned, thrusting the hilt deeper within your cunt, causing your body to jolt forwards slightly at the sudden shifting of pace. "Louder, love. I could not hear over your panting." The cooed words felt like a taunt to you, though they were in your best interest.

For the past week, you had been wallowing in self-doubt as tales of the reclaiming of Erebor spread throughout the lively halls once more. Though you had followed your husband throughout the journey, you felt as if your role had lacked substance—as if there would be no difference if you had chosen to stay with his mother. It was a looming feeling; it would trickle back when you would hear your fellow companions boast about their bravery while you were just a mere healer, not a fighter like your husband.

A mere healer. Those three simple words had led to you pinned against this wall, with the hilt of your husband's sword buried within the depths of your cunt.

"I am important." You strained out, the words cracking upon your lips as your body shook with rising pleasure. The tips of his calloused fingers finally made contact with your sensitive clit, causing your back to arch further into the hilt and his palm.

"That's my good girl." The dwarven prince purred, the tips of his fingers continuing to trace patterns upon your swollen clit—and if you had half a mind to pay attention to what they spelled, instead of the deep stretch of his sword within you, you would feel the words 'I love you' within the pattern of swirls.

"Please..." You breathed, the syllables quivering upon your soft, pouting lips as your gaze rose from the old floor—locking onto the burning, ocean-colored gaze of your lover. "I can't—" "Then don't." He answered, the corners of his thin lips curling into a smile. "Let go."

Those two words were all it took. His name rang throughout the busied halls, alerting all within hearing distance of what was transpiring—though it was nothing new to the inhabitants of Erebor. Waves of pleasure wracked throughout your body as the overflowing fountain of your pleasure gushed upon the hilt, rolling down the length of the sword, dripping into a puddle of filth upon the stone floor.

Amidst the sea of static that rang within your ears, you could hear the faint whisperings of your lover.

"You are the most important thing to me."

"I would be nothing without you."

"I would kill a thousand men just to look at you."

"You have saved me in ways my sword cannot."

The reassuring words caused hot tears to prick in the corners of your eyes, your body still wracking from the intense pleasure as the tingling of pleasure danced throughout your veins.

Your chest rose and fell at an unsteady pace as you slowly came down from your high, vision slightly blurred from both tears and pleasure as you gazed upon your lover—slowly realizing how tight of a grasp you held upon his braids, yet the bulge within his trousers show he did not mind it one bit.

"Easy there, love." The gentle pressure upon your clit departed, earning a soft whimper to fall from your lips and a chuckle to rumble within the prince's chest. "I know, I know, but you must breathe." He spoke softly, his words dripping with affection as he rose his dripping fingers to his lips—licking off the sweet tang of your nectar before rubbing the remnants upon his trousers.

Mindlessly, the weight of your body slumped back against the chilled stone wall—soothing the burning heat that was your body as your lover slowly slid the length of his hilt out of your sore, sensitive pussy. The sight of the sword stained with the essence of your pleasure caused the flesh beneath your cheeks to heat, knowing that your husband would have to take his sword for a thorough cleaning and come with a reason as to why it reeked of the scent of sex.

"No one will ask, love," He spoke, his calloused hand cupping the side of your face. The cold, smoothness of his various rings gently soothed the raging fire beneath your cheeks. "they know better than to question me." He continued to assure you. The softness that his ocean-colored eyes held as he gazed upon you allowed your worries to ease further—and caused your knees to become weakened.

"And if they do?" The words left your lips in a whisper, nearly masked by the loud clanking that danced throughout the dwarven halls. "Then I will gloat about how pretty my wife is when she comes." He teased; the heat of his words against your neck caused a new heat to rise within your core—your inner thighs becoming slick with excitement at the thought, yet your face grew hotter thinking of the consequences of such a thing.

"Fili." The familiar sound of you whining his name caused the dwarven prince to chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly in amusement as his calloused hand remained on your cheek. "I jest, I jest." He laughed, yet the twinkle within his ocean-colored eyes told another tale.

"However," He began as he leaned into you, getting as close to your quivering frame as he could—the dampened coldness of his sword's blade pressing within the sensitive folds of your cunt. "if I ever hear you speak poorly of yourself again, I will not hesitate to bend you over and fuck you till everyone in Middle-Earth knows the sound of you screaming my name. Understood?" The moisture within your mouth dried at the threat as you slowly bobbed your head in agreement.

A threat you planned to use to your advantage.

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; To Please a Woman (Kili x Reader)

Summary - Kili learns how to please a woman with his fingers.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader (could possibly be read differently), fingering (reader receiving), sexually innocent!Kili, Kili needs to cut his goddamn nails, mention of bodily fluids (reader), mention of female genitalia (reader), reader whimpers, squirting, hinted at dom!Reader (more towards the end), lowkey praise kink (Kili).

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person

Word Count - 1,200+

A/N - Another suggested smut! "Reader teaches Kili about sex and how to pleasure an AFAB." — @violetteshoneybee (please correct me if I have tagged the wrong person!) I have wanted to write more Kili smuts for a while, so thank you for this suggestion and for your kind words! I hope you enjoy! The reader has no defining features other than soft lips (I might have written plump too, I am unsure if I did). Smut below the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

An all too familiar harmony danced throughout the air, the melody of your uneven breaths accompanied by the squelching click of your eager cunt swayed throughout the air. Yet, this time, the sound was not due to your fingers.

The deep stretch of the youngest dwarven prince's fingers delved deep within your cunt, opening up your moistened, spongy walls as they began to curve into you. His nervous, honey-colored gaze bore up at you as the roughness of his calloused thumb softly grazed between your wet folds, seeking out that sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Am I...doing this right?" His question was no louder than a whisper, almost masked by the oozing sounds of pleasure your sopping cunt made around his thick digits. "Yes, gods, yes." The weight of your head tilted backward as you breathed out a response, relishing in the steady speed at which the dwarf's fingers roamed within your cunt.

The soft blur of his auburn hair caught within your view for a moment before the lids of your eyes began to flutter, his thick fingers curling upwards inside of your damp walls—the tips of his nails scraping against your most sensitive, spongy spot in the process.

A soft hiss slipped through your plump lips, causing the dwarf's fingers to halt as his eyes widened in fear. "Fuck, did I hurt you? I am so sorry, we can stop—" The pitch of his voice rose in panic as the fullness of his fingers began to glide back from you. "Kili, I am okay." You quickly assured, your hand moving just as fast as it wrapped around the dwarf's wrist: stopping the length of his fingers from departing from the warmth of your walls any further.

"But you hissed." Kili spoke, his voice no louder than a worried whisper as his gaze bore into you. Looking like a puppy who had been kicked. "I hissed because you need to trim your nails." You explained gently as you slowly slid the length of his fingers back into you, relishing in the slow stretch of his thick digits as a pleased sigh slipped out of your lips.

"O-Oh..." The dwarf stuttered out, his gaze softening as he watched how your warmth swallowed him whole. How the tightness of your cunt stretched around his fingers, devouring them with such ease before they slid slightly out of your, a ring of white around the base of them before they re-entered you—rinse and repeat. "I didn't know...I am sorry." He whispered as his fingers slowly fell back to their previous speed, each curve of his fingers far more gently as they softly bumped against your most delicate spots.

"It is alright, Kili. You are doing great." You breathed, the words dripping with pleasure as you slowly released his wrist from your grasp. The softness of your hand slid down from his wrist to the top of his hands, the tips of your fingers sliding atop the top of his hand—trailing over the veins and his knuckles before reaching the top of his thumb. "Here, let me help you with that." The corners of your lips curved into a reassuring smile as you slowly connected his thumb with your sensitive bundle of nerves; a spark of electricity flooded your veins the moment his rough, calloused thumb came into contact with your twitching clit.

"What do I, erm," Kili began, his thumb lightly pressing into your sensitive clit, causing your back to arch in pleasure. "What do I do?" He whispered, the heat of his gaze burning onto your heavenly figure as he watched your lower abdomen twitch in pleasure at the varied sensations.

"You should—fuck!" The words died upon your tongue as you felt the thickness of his fingers spread out slightly, stretching the inner walls of your core before returning together as the dwarf experimented inside you. "Was that okay?" He questioned softly, slowly beginning to fan out his fingers inside of you yet again, causing your eyes to loop back in pleasure at the sensation. "Gods, yes." You breathed, a smile returning to your lips as you sunk into the snapping motions of his thick fingers inside you.

"Just like that." You sighed in pleasure, almost lost in a trance at the sensations as the dwarf continued his experiments. "Move your thumb." You managed to utter, the lids of your eyes fluttering softly as the weight of your head sunk back further—back arched, pressing the weight of your cunt further into his palm as his fingers moved in and out of your wetness.

"Like this?" His question was barely audible to you the moment his calloused thumb began to dance upon your clit. The pressure grew slightly as small, delicate circles swirled upon it—making your wet walls quiver around the thickness of his fingers. "Gods, yes!" A strained cry of pleasure fell from your lips as your hand dropped from his, now clawing at the furs you rested upon.

The dwarven prince continued his ministrations; there was little rhyme or reason for the pace and variety of movements his fingers did inside of you—snapping, then curling, once even twisting to see how far he could turn his hand with your cunt upon it—yet it was nonetheless pleasurable for you.

As a familiar tingle began to rise from the tips of your toes, you mindlessly bucked your hips into his palm. It started slow, little motions showing he was hitting the right spots as your mewls of pleasure filled the room, but soon turned to you fucking yourself upon his fingers.

Instead of a single utter of complaints, the dwarven prince began to match the pace at which you fucked yourself on his palm. Pulling his hand back as you slid away and meeting your cunt with a snap as you lowered yourself to the base of his thick fingers. All the while, his thumb continued the steady pattern of circles on your clit, applying various amounts of pressure—one moment delicate, the next harsh enough to nearly burn out of pain and pleasure—lulling you to the edge.

It only took a few more thrusts of the dwarf's fingers to turn you into a quivering mess. The room filled with the sound of your pleasure as your essence oozed out of your cunt, dripping down the palm of the prince's hand and rolling down his forearm to his elbow as your inner walls clenched his fingers in a tight grasp.

"Fuck..." You breathed, the weight of your body sinking into the bed as you went limp on the dwarf's palm. The room buzzed, a faint ringing within your ears as your eyes blurred with ecstasy—yet you could still see the smug grin upon the auburn-haired dwarf's lips.

"So..." Kili began, the slow glide of his fingers departing from your cunt caused a soft whimper to fall from your lips—a whimper? You had never made that noise with anyone else. "Did I do good?" The innocent question seemed to ground you in reality as a soft rumble of laughter spread throughout your chest.

The soft blur of your head nodding widened the grin upon his thin lips as the warmth of pride began to spread throughout the center of his chest. "You did great, Kili." You breathed, the bed creaking slightly as you slowly rose onto your forearms. "But next time, cut your damn nails." "Yes, ma'am." He replied quickly; the joking title sent a pleasurable tingle down your spine—but you would deal with that another day.

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Beneath the Stars (Aragorn x Reader)

Summary - A woman draped in cloth cut from the night sky, an awestruck ranger admiring from afar, and a bet between elven royals—what could go wrong?

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader, fem!reader, mention of alcohol (poorly written), poorly written dancing (I do not know how to dance), woodland elves getting crunk (they know how to party), heavily implied marriage (Aragorn and Reader), heavily implied wife!Reader, heavily implied husband!Aragorn, simp!Aragorn (man loves his betrothed), mention of bets (Legolas and Arwen), nonsexual tension (Legolas and Arwen—they just want to win the bet), heavy dom/sub undertones and dynamic, sub!Aragorn, dom!Reader, heavily alluded worshipping kink (Aragorn is just a simp), unprotected sex, mention of a womb (reader), mention of female genitalia (reader), mention of male genitalia (Aragorn), handjob (Aragorn receiving), lowkey humiliation kink (Aragorn having), degradation (Aragorn receiving), poor attempt at dirty talk, name calling (Aragorn is called a dumb whore), reader is called mistress and goddess, slight mean reader (but in a hot way), hair pulling (Aragorn receiving), semi-public sex, creampie, and maybe more (I might have missed a few things).

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person (starts more Aragorn leaning)

Pairings - Aragorn x Reader (romantic), implied Reader x Arwen (friendly). Arwen x Legolas (friendly rivalry)

Word Count - 6,100+ (I do not know how we got here, but we did)

A/N - Another one from the suggestion box! "This takes place in Northern Mirkwood, where Legolas is from. Maybe Aragorn and Reader are there for some sort of formal event? Reader stuns Aragorn in an Elvish dress and she kinda takes advantage. Poor Aragorn becomes a mess! Arwen and Legolas have made a secret bet on how fast it’ll take for Aragorn and Reader to sneak away. Reader is wearing a pretty dark blue Elvish dress with long sleeves and some kind of pretty silver embroidery." — @tsum00 (I hope I tagged the right person, please correct me if I am wrong!) This may have gone a bit off from the suggestion, so I do apologize for that! I hope you enjoy regardless, thank you so much for your suggestion and your kind words! I really enjoyed writing this and ended up with more plot written than I expected, so I do apologize for that! I made the feast, the feast of starlight as that was the only one I could remember at the moment. I kept the reader as vague as possible but included the dress, the only defining features are plump lips. I got way too into writing this while simultaneously having writer's block...it was an experience but an enjoyable one. Smut below the cut!

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Mereth Nuin Giliath, otherwise known as the Feast of Starlight in the common tongue. A celebratory feast held in admiration for the various lights that shone within the darkened sky alongside the vast moon that loomed over them.

The exact origins of the feast were unknown to those outside of the woodland halls, and the king of Gondor was no exception to said fact. However, it mattered not to the recently crowned king why he was there to celebrate such matters; he was merely joyous to be invited to such festivities—vastly aware of the secrecy of the northern elves.

A gentle breeze drifted throughout the woodland halls as the celebrations echoed within, carrying the strumming of harps and the chatter of elves as it floated through the chilled air. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the dancing figures on the busied floor, painting the walls with tall, darkened reflections of their graceful movements as they basked within the energy of the natural light from above.

The various figures swayed upon the dance floor, yet the grace within their movements began to gnaw away with each sip of rouge liquid that stained the various elven lips. A similar hue dripped onto the old, wooden floor beneath them, quenching the dried wood with the taste of aged elven wine as their goblets flowed over while their movements became more primal.

Amongst the sea of dancing figures, there was one whom the recently crowned king's eyes could not part from—his dearly betrothed, Y/N.

To say the woman was a vision was an understatement to the king. The deep blue silk draped upon her heavenly figure made her appear like a goddess wrapped in the same night sky the elves danced under. The soft twinkles of the silver spool sewn into the gown shimmered with each sway of her hips amidst the mixed lights.

As the elves continued to rejoice beneath the light of the stars, the new king could not help but envision how he might later rejoice beneath the light of her. The moisture within his mouth began to overflow at the thought as he shifted upon the heels of his feet, the old wooden floor creaking beneath the moving weight as his mind continued to wander—picturing the heavenly flesh hidden beneath the smoothness of silk.

"Your mind wanders." A familiar voice broke through the static of the king's trance, reminding the man of the familiar elven prince who stood to the right of him. "Have you heard a single word I had spoken?" The prince questioned, a thick brow quirked upwards as the man nervously raised the goblet of rouge liquid to meet his thin lips.

"I, erm..." Any hint of excuse died within Aragorn's throat as the blood within his cheeks burnt hot, his eyes betraying him as they continuously darted back to the packed floor—watching as the beautiful temptress swayed amongst the sea of elves. "I had not." He uttered, a soft admission as he attempted to revert his eyes towards the prince beside him, yet he struggled to pull his gaze away from the temptation upon the dance floor.

Lost in a trance, like a sailor lulled to the depths of the sea by a siren, his gaze followed each hypnotic sway of the woman's hips. The deep blue fabric swished side to side with each motion, the silver embellishments twinkling within the pale moonlight, pulling him deeper into the trance of arousal.

"Why stand and watch when you could be beside her?" The elven prince questioned, once again pulling the man back from the depths of his desires. "No one would fault you if you were to slip away for a moment." Legolas continued, his tone sounding more like a tempting song. Though Aragorn could not see it, he could hear how Legolas' smirk dripped upon each word he uttered.

"Legolas," Another familiar voice spoke from beside Aragorn, one full of softness and femininity—yet the slightest twinge of irritation weighed heavy upon the elf's name. "Aragorn is in no need of your council." She continued, the soft swish of her wine tapped against her glass, her hand clenching around the stem as her gaze fixated upon her fellow elven royal—sapphire eyes narrowing in displeasure as the prince's ocean ones twinkled with mischief.

"Perhaps I shall accompany my betrothed." The words that left Aragorn's lips were in a dream-like trance, light and airy—full of desire and satisfaction as he continued to admire his beloved.

The sound of his betrothed's laughter floated alongside the strumming of harps in the air, fluttering into the man's ears, filling his chest with a glow of warmth and a yearning for her tender caress. There was not a single flaw within the woman upon the dance floor, none that the recently crowned king could find—and if any dared to utter otherwise, he would ensure they would be unable to utter another word ever again.

The thought alone was enough to cause the man's grasp to tighten around his goblet, clenching around the cold metal within his calloused palm as the muscles within his jaw began to tense at the nonsensical fantasy his mind had composed.

As his mind continued to string along peculiar fantasies, the woman spun around. The corners of her plump lips quirked into a playful smile as the weight of her head tilted back in laughter, the hue of her hair cascading down her scalp like a waterfall beneath the pale moonlight as she continued to rejoice in the festivities. That was all it took; the sight of his beloved so wild and free was all it took to break his resolve.

"Pardon me." Aragorn uttered, his words barely catching within the sensitive ears of his royal elven companions as his feet guided him onto the dance floor. Discarding the goblet of rouge liquid upon the way, wishing to have his hands free for what was to come.

As the head of auburn hair disappeared amongst the sea of elven heads, an amused snicker slipped out of the elven prince's thin lips.

"It appears you will have to make good on your bet, my lady," Legolas began, his voice laced with smugness as he brought his goblet to his lips, allowing the pool of rouge liquid to enter them. "I shall be expecting the wine by the next full moon." He continued, earning a scoff from the elven lady's plump lips.

"You merely led him to her," Arwen rebutted, a slender hand waving slightly to dismiss the notion Legolas had proposed. "I have faith that I shall be the victor of this bet. Aragorn is no animal."

The statement, ever innocent and determined, caused a sea of laughter to bubble up from Legolas's throat—nearly causing the typically stoic prince to choke upon his wine. "We shall see." He spoke once his throat cleared of laughter, yet the smug grin remained carved upon his thin lips.

──────

The auburn-haired man continued to push through the sea of elves, uttering soft apologies when he accidentally bumped into one through the cramped path, yet he couldn't stop. He cared little about the path or those in his way; all he cared about was you.

The pale moonlight shone down upon you, bathing you in the silvery hue of its aura as you continued to sway on the floor—appearing like a goddess amidst a sea of faithful servants despite being a mortal amongst near immortals.

The thump of the ranger's booted feet against the wooden floor echoed throughout the air as he approached, garnering your attention as you ended yet another twirl. The deep blue gown fanned out as your motions halted, much attention falling onto your hips and waist as it momentarily tightened around them before returning to its loosened state.

"Y/N," Aragorn breathed as he stood before you, the leather of the tips of his boot touching against the smoothness of your dancing shoe—desperately attempting to be as close to you as possible. "you look lovely." His voice was no louder than a whisper, as the heat of his words gently caressed the flesh of your neck as he leaned closer to you. "Utterly lovely." He repeated the word like a prayer, desperate for his goddess to hear it.

The smile upon your lips curved differently, one of mischief and delight, and the gaze your gemstone-colored eyes held began to narrow. "Oh?" The word left your lips in a breath, watching as the once ranger eagerly bobbed his head to answer you—like the good boy he was. "And tell me, just how lovely do I look?" You teased, eager to hear him sing praises of your beauty as he squirmed with desire under your stern gaze.

"You look like a goddess sent from the heavens," Aragorn breathed dreamily. The heat of his body radiated off of him as he leaned closer to you, desperate to be within your presence, yet knowing better than to touch without permission. "one who I yearn to worship." The heat of his whisper grazed against the sensitive flesh of your neck, his lips hovering a mere breath away from your delicate flesh as his gaze rose to meet yours.

"Is that so?" You questioned, the smug grin never leaving your lips as you gazed down upon the ranger—his knees bent slightly, subconsciously preparing to kneel before you and abide by your beck and call. "And is that how you properly ask to worship me? Is it?" As the taunting question left your lips, the ranger's icy eyes slowly widened in realization. You wanted him to beg among the sensitive ears of elves.

"I..." The moisture dried from the man's mouth, words catching within the back of his throat as his head rose from your neck. "You wish for me to beg?" He whispered, his eyes anxiously darting throughout the room as a heat began to spread throughout the center of his chest. Though the warmth had started as one of unease, it began to settle into a burn of arousal.

"I do not see why not." The floor creaked slightly beneath you as you inched closer to Aragorn, the tips of your shoes pressing into the tips of his boots, forcing them to squish into the flesh of his toes. "But, the others—" "Oh, now the presence of others troubles you, my dear?" You taunted, the heat of your breath grazing against the flesh of his pricked chin, furthering the heat of arousal that spread throughout him.

"You appeared to have no issue ravishing me with your eyes moments ago." You continued, inching closer to the man before you, the softness of your flesh pressing into the hardness of his—causing the hardness within his trousers to grow further. "Well, I, erm..." Aragorn trailed off, unable to find a viable excuse that would explain both how he stared at you and how hardened his cock had become whilst doing so.

"Tell me, pet," The words escaped your lips in a purred tone, as the smoothness of your hand gently encased the side of his face, the roughness of his beard grazing against your palm as he leaned into your touch. "what were you envisioning as you stared at my hips? Hm?" Your thumb grazed against his bottom lip, stained lightly by the rogue hue of the liquid he had so easily downed prior whilst gazing upon you.

"You using me for your pleasure, mistress." Aragorn admitted sheepishly. The heat beneath his cheeks was now a roaring wildfire as the tingling of embarrassment rushed throughout his veins, allowing the flow of blood to fixate on its trail down to his cock.

"Is that so?" You cooed as the smoothness of your thumb continued to caress the smoothness of his stained lower lip. His head bobbed eagerly in agreement, the harshness of his bearded cheek rubbed against your palm as his icy eyes bore up at you large and sparkling with a lustful desire to please you. "Yes, mistress." He breathed, his eyes never leaving yours as he sank his cheek deeper into your touch.

"Such a good toy." The softness of your palm dropped from his face, earning a displeased whimper from the ranger's lips as you inched away—his body seeking yours out as he leaned forward slightly, desperate to be in the warmth of your aura. "Mistress, please." He whined, his desperation to please you overflowing, washing away all his previous worries of the woodland elves hearing him pleading to please you.

Despite how he pleaded, you continued to inch away from him, earning yet another whine to slip through his wine-stained lips. The sight of your heavenly figure backing away from him was near torture as if the gods were ripping away the angel sent to save him from damnation—or rather, bring him closer to it.

Before another sound of displeasure—or another pathetic beg—could escape the king's lips, you curved a finger in his direction, signaling for him to follow, which he did eagerly.

His steps held a bounce as he rushed after you like a stray dog being brought home during a storm. Though the thumping within his chest was rapid, all blood flow fixated on the cause of the growing tent pitching within the front of his trousers as you led the king of Gondor away from the festivities.

──────

It was a bit of a blur how the ranger ended up in this manner: back pressed firmly against the twisted woodland halls, the old wood digging into the exposed flesh of his rear as his trousers laid upon the ground. The bitter night's air nipped at his exposed flesh, yet his cock was warmed beneath the smoothness of your touch.

His breath hitched within his throat as your delicate hand continued to glide upon his throbbing member, dampened with the saliva you had spat upon it the moment his trousers fell upon the floor.

"What if we are caught?" He whispered, his voice quivering in pleasure as the tip of your thumb grazed over the throbbing head of his cock, smearing the off-white liquid of his pre-release. An amused scoff fell from your lips as you continued to stroke his throbbing length, feeling pulsations of his racing heart within his cock.

"Then they would see what a good whore you are for your mistress." Your cooed words caused his cock to twitch within your touch, the lids of his eyes dropping slightly as the pleasure of praise sunk within his veins. "Though I doubt they would see much, my damn sleeve blocks even my view." You grumbled beneath your breath, your free hand hoisting up your long sleeve yet again as your preoccupied hand continued to twist upon the leaking length, the sleeve soon drooping down—sheathing the king's cock from the night's air and the heat of your gaze.

An annoyed tsk fell from your lips as you attempted to fix your sleeve again, yet to no avail. The smooth silk continued to sway around Aragorn's throbbing cock, occasionally gliding against it as your hand sunk to his base, making a shiver roam down his spine at the pleasurable sensation.

"Mistress, please." He whined, the weight of his head falling back, tilting against the harsh wooden wall behind him as his cock continued to pulsate in your hand. The creamy liquid coated his length entirely, making the motions of your hand even smoother upon his hardness.

"Please what?" You purred as you leaned closer to him, the floor creaking under the shifting of weight as your hand continued to circle his throbbing member. "Use your words like a good whore. Tell me what you want, pet." The heat of your breath grazed the shell of his ear, causing more droplets of his pre-pleasure to leak from the slit of his reddened head.

"Please fuck me." He groaned in pleasure, his eyes looping towards the back of his skull as he felt your hand tighten around his throbbing cock; you could feel each beat of his heart within your palm. "I cannot take it any longer. Please, mistress." His pitiful whines only furthered the grin upon your lips; the mighty King Elessar here, in such a compromising position, begging for your cunt like a pathetic little whore.

"Aw, you want my pussy around your cock? Squeezing all around it while I use it for my pleasure, hm?" The words left your mouth in a teasing purr, yet the king did not deny it. A blur of auburn locks rapidly bobbing filled your view before he weakly leaned back against the wooden wall, his chest rising and falling at an uneven speed as he tried to resist painting your hand white with his seed from your words alone.

"Gods..." He whimpered out, his body quivering in pleasure at the thought of your wet walls wrapped around his thickened cock; gliding up and down it, making it glisten under the moonlight as your warmth enveloped him. "The gods aren't here right now, pet." You hummed, leaning even closer to him as your grip tightened around his sensitive member, causing him to hiss in a mixture of pain and pleasure at the sharp tightness.

"Tell me you want it." You breathed into him, lips grazing against the sensitive shell of his ear before they enveloped the lobe for a moment, surrounding his flesh for a split second before your teeth encased them, tugging the flesh downwards, causing the king to groan in pleasure.

"I want it—fuck!" The hand that fiddled with the smooth sleeve of your gown dipped downwards, finding its way where the full sack of his seed rested to which it cupped in a firm grasp. "Shit—I need it, mistress. I need you." He whined in pleasure as your hands continued to stimulate him. One toying with the length of his aching cock as the other massaged his sack, toying with the balls as you rubbed them within your smooth palm.

"That's what I thought." You hummed, your grasp tightening around both manhood and sack for a moment—earning a hiss of pleasure from the king—before you released both. The chill of the night air nipped against Aragorn's sensitive flesh, his cock twitching slightly at the lack of warmth as it drooped ever so slightly without the support of your palm.

The soft swish of fabric hoisted up caught Aragorn's attention, his glazed-over icy eyes slowly fluttering back open to a glorious sight before him: you lifting the skirt of your gown and positioning yourself before him. You reached forward, the warmth of your hand once again encasing the ranger's throbbing cock as you brought the oozing tip to your dampened entrance.

But, instead of sliding the aching tip into the warmth of your cunt, you decided to tease him. Slowly rubbing the angry head against your dripping hole, tapping it against where it so desperately desired to sink into as you looked back at your beloved; his face twisted with a mixture of lust and annoyance.

"Mistress." He whined, it was a pathetic sound you loved to hear him make. It was almost amusing to you how easily you could turn such an admired king into a whining little bitch from the promise of your cunt.

"Patience, my love." You continued to rub the head of his cock against your open entrance, earning an annoyed groan from your desperate pet. Normally, Aragorn would relish in your teasing, the anticipation of sinking into your cunt, yet the influence of the wine had made him very impatient. He needed you now.

The floor creaked under the shifting of his weight as he attempted to slide into you, thrusting into the palm of your head and nearly piercing your entrance with the oozing head of his cock—yet it did not enter.

"Ah, ah, ah." You tsked as you inched back slightly; the grasp you held upon his cock tightened in a warning hold, causing the man to groan in further desperation. Before Aragorn could utter a single complaint, your free hand darted up to his hair, tangling within his auburn locks. "Did I give you permission to do that?" "N-No..." The word quivered upon Aragorn's lips as what he had done slowly sunk in.

"No, what?" You questioned, your tone dripping with assertion as your grasp upon his hair tightened. The soft sting of your nails digging into his scalp caused his cock to twitch within your palm. "N-No, mistress. I am so sorry, mistress." The words left his lips in a nervous, humiliated quiver as his pupils dilated in a mixture of anxiety and arousal. A pathetic little whore, that's what he was. Your pathetic whore.

A mocking laugh rumbled within your chest as you snagged at the auburn strands, forcing his head to the side and exposing the clean flesh of his neck. No longer did it bare the marks of your teeth, the wordless brand that he was yours and yours alone, but now it stood as plain flesh. "You want to fuck your mistress, do you, whore?" A question wordlessly answered with an attempt to nod, his smooth locks rubbing into your palm as he stared at you like a hungered man placed before a feast.

"You are lucky I am feeling generous tonight." The warmth of your palm departed from his cock, yet again, yet your other remained tangled within his auburn locks. The front of your gown had managed to stay hoisted up despite your actions, leaving the ranger whimpering in desire at the sight of your exposed cunt. "You better make this worth my while."

Within a moment of the warning words leaving your lips, you were soon pressed against the wooden wall—backed into the corner as the ranger hoisted one of your legs around his waist, ensuring it circled him firmly as he aligned the tip of his cock with your center. His movements stalled for a moment, his icy eyes locking onto yours, searching for your approval, and with a simple nod of your head, he allowed his thickness to sink into your welcoming walls.

Though you had felt this stretch countless times before, it was as pleasant as the first time. Aragorn's cock slowly sunk into the wetness of your cunt, pushing in inch by inch until the bones of his hips pressed into yours: tearing through your inner walls, stretching them to a satisfying fullness, as the sturdiness of his arms encased you.

His hips remained stagnant for a few moments as he savored the sensation of your cunt gripping him. It was wet, warm, and welcoming—clinging all around him as the weight of his body leaned into you, seeking to be even deeper in the warmth of your grasp.

"Fuck..." He breathed, the heat of his breath grazing against the nape of your neck as he continued to press into you. The harsh prickle of his beard tickled the crook of your neck as he buried his face within it.

Though you loved to see the king in such a vulnerable state, relishing in the heaven that was your cunt, your patience was waning. With a huff of your plump lips, you slowly rolled your hips—forcing an even deeper stretch, one that made the ranger whimper against your neck.

"I said fuck me, not stand there like an idiot." You huffed as your hips rose and fell against his, gliding upon his cock as if it was nothing but another toy for your pleasure within your collection—after all, that's what he was. Your pleasure toy first, husband second. "Or are you too stupid to fuck me properly?" The ranger's cock twitched against your inner walls as you mocked him, feeling every ounce of his cock throbbing within you. The large vein that curved upon it throbbed in pleasure as you berated him, as another pathetic whimper vibrated against the crook of your neck.

"I can't help it." He whined, no longer sounding like the regal king he was at the beginning of the night—turned into a pathetic little fuck toy for the woman who slid upon his cock. "You feel so good, mistress." He continued to babble excuses against your neck, his calloused hands grasping at your arms, clinging onto you like a sailor to a piece of plywood stranded at sea.

The sudden sting of your hand snatching his hair, nails pricking against his scalp, as you tugged his head to the side caused his cock to stir inside of you again. The vein upon the middle throbbing in excitement, droplets of his nearing release oozing out, staining your inner walls.

"I said: fuck me. Not babble like an idiot." You hissed, the grasp held upon his auburn locks tightening—earning a hiss of pleasure from the ranger as his hips finally began to rock into yours. "That's a good boy." You purred, the grasp upon his hair remaining firm as his hips bucked into yours.

Each thrust was slow and deep, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein upon his throbbing, thick cock as he slowly split your inner walls open. A faint sheen of sweat began to form upon your forehead as the ranger continued his thrusts, making your skin glisten under the faint glow of candlelight; making you appear more heavenly than before.

"There we go, just like that." Your hums of pleasure further encouraged the motions the ranger held within his hips; a slight burn began to spread throughout his lower abdomen as his balls tightened slightly—threatening to spill his heavily stowed seed into your willing womb, yet he attempted to resist the lull of release. The squelching sound of your pleasure bounced throughout the woodland halls, likely falling within the ears of every elf in the presence of the celebrations—yet you worried not of it, simply sinking into the deep stretch of the ranger's cock pounding inside of your core.

The swollen, leaking tip of his cock continued to pound away inside of you—grazing against your most sensitive spot. In response to the grazing, your inner walls tightened their moist grasp around his throbbing member as a moan fell from your lips, a sound that nearly pushed the ranger over the edge.

"Aw, are you about to cum?" You cooed, the words oozing with mock care as Aragorn's hips quivered against yours. His tightened balls were slick with the essence of your pleasure as they tapped against your cunt as his aching, desperate cock delved deeper within you. "Y-Yes, mistress." The words left his lips in a shaky breath, the weight of his head quivered within your smooth palm as your grasp upon it tightened further.

"Are you really that pathetic that you cannot fuck me for five minutes without bursting?" The lids of Aragorn's eyes fluttered together tightly, a desperate attempt to restrain himself from emptying his seed within your core. The muscles within his abdomen clenched tightly as he continued to carve his cock within the heavenly embrace of your dripping walls, desperate to be good, desperate to please you. "Do it." You breathed into his ear, causing all motion within his hips to stall as the lids of his eyes flew open.

The weight of his lower jaw dropped, his eyes widening as large as the full moon in the sky as he stood there—mindlessly staring at you. "I—you—what?" He breathed; the nonsensical babbling left his lips in a quiver as his mind struggled to process what you were asking of him. You wanted him to spill his seed within you?

"I said do it." The heat of your breath grazed against the shell of his ear, his hips jutting up into yours mindlessly as your leg tightened around his waist. "Cum in me like the pathetic whore you are." That was all it took for the dam of the ranger's seed to break, bursting into your cunt like an endless river as rope after rope of hot, white liquid poured stained the walls of your womb.

His body trembled within your grasp, the harshness of his nails dug into the smooth silk of your deep blue gown as he continued to splooge ropes of his hot seed deep within your core; rushing to your womb.

"Fuck..." He hissed in pleasure as the grip of your inner walls tightened around him, clenching your inner walls in tauntingly pleasurable sensation for a few moments before releasing and clenching again; allowing his seed to rush even deeper within your core. "Such a pathetic little slut." You breathed, the corners of your lips returning into a smug grin as your gaze narrowed at the man.

A mixture of lust and false annoyance flashed within your eyes, yet you could not deny how pleasurable the warmth of his seed felt within your womb.

"So fucking pathetic, can't fuck me for five seconds without cumming like a little bitch in heat." You continued, making him whine in pleasure, his cock twitching within your core at the degrading. "I am sorry, mistress." He mewled pathetically as his face burnt with embarrassment, his hips mindlessly jutting against yours as his slightly softened cock continued to push his seed within you.

"Show me how sorry you are." You breathed as you tugged at his auburn locks, forcing his head to arch further away from your neck—the burning snag of your grasp toying with his sensitive scalp caused his cock to reharden within you. "Make me cum, and I'll forgive you."

A renewed energy spread throughout Aragorn's body at your command, the speed at which his hips moved quickly turned rapid as his cock pounded away inside of your core earning a surprised squeak to fall from your plump lips.

His aching cock carved itself deep within your walls, the leaking head of his cock thumped against the most special spongy spots within your core in a repeated pattern as his grasp tightened around you—desperate to hold himself back from spewing his seed inside you again, and even more so desperate to give you the pleasure in the manner you had trained him to.

As he continued to pound away inside of you, one of his hands dropped from you and slipped down to the sensitive flesh of your cunt—the heat of your arousal emanated off of it, a sign that he was pleasuring you despite the little sounds of pleasure that left your lips.

You found yourself getting lost in the unintentional pattern of the ranger's hips, sinking into every thrust as the weight of your head tilted back against the wooden wall. It was easy to forget that you were in the halls of the woodland elves, only the muffled cheers of their celebration and varied footsteps that ended just short of you brought you back to the reality of how close you were to getting caught—yet that did not cease your arousal. The squelching sound of your cunt grew louder as the pattern of footsteps grew even louder as the slap of the ranger's hips meeting your own echoed throughout the halls.

"More." You breathed, your voice no louder than a whisper, but not out of fear; out of pleasure. "Give me more. Be a good little fuck toy and make me scream." A command that was promptly heard, the ranger's hand no longer hovered above your heat but now connected with it as the tips of his calloused fingers made contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your back arched at the sensation as Aragorn began to toy with your clit, applying a faint amount of pleasure to the twitching bundle of nerves as he began to massage it in a circle. The sound of your arousal grew even louder from his touch, the silence your lips held now a slew of groaned praises of pleasure as the wetness of your cunt echoed throughout the woodland halls for all to hear.

The air within the halls weighed heavy upon you as a familiar static sensation began to spread throughout your core, as your hips mindlessly rose and fell under Aragorn's touch as you used him for your nearing pleasure.

"That's it, right there." You breathed, your voice rising in pitch as the throbbing head of his cock continued to abuse your spongy spot. The tips of your toes began to curl as a familiar tingling, nearly burning sensation rose within you. The grasp you held upon the back of his head tightened further, a desperate attempt to remain upright as your pleasure neared.

With each stroke of his cock, you grew more sensitive. Each twitch and throb was a steady beat, a song that led you in the dance of pleasure as you neared the endless abyss of what was to come. You attempted to withhold for a few moments longer, wishing to hear him whimper a few more times before breaking yourself, yet with each punch of his cock into your core you grew weaker and weaker.

Within a matter of moments, you were thrown over the edge; a howl of pleasure escaping your lips as the pressure within your core bursted, coating his length and balls with the sweet nectar of your pleasure. Your body shivered in pleasure, waves of ecstasy roaming throughout your veins as your inner walls fluttered around his aching cock, pushing him over the edge yet again.

A small bump distended from your lower abdomen as the familiar, hot gush of his thick seed flooded your core yet again. Drenching the inner walls of your womb with the endless cups of cum you had forbidden him from spilling days prior.

As the static within your mind began to clear, the stars within your eyes slowly fading away, you released the grasp upon his head. Reddened marks of your nails painted his lightly tanned scalp, a marking of your pleasure that was thankfully hidden from the eyes of most—though his tousled hair was enough proof of what had transpired if one had not heard the previous moans.

"That was..." An amused laugh fell from your lips as he attempted to speak yet the pleasure left him unable, his mind still in a cum-drunken trance as his body quivered within the night's air. "Alright, lover boy, let's get cleaned up before someone walks by." You spoke as you dropped his leg from your waist. A stream of white, hot liquid flowed forth from your aching cunt as you slid his throbbing member out of you—earning a displeased whimper from the king, yet he knew better than to utter a single complaint while you were holding his cock.

──────

As the celebrations began to die down, various elves passed out upon tables and the floor, the King of Gondor and his beloved bride attempted to slip back into the festivities unrecognized.

But they had forgotten of the sharpness of elves' eyes.

"I knew it!" The golden-haired elf boasted, his arms thrust up in the air in victory nearly causing him to spill his goblet of wine upon the raven-haired princess to his right.

"You two could not wait another five minutes?" The elven princess grumbled, her sapphire eyes narrowing in displeasure as she raised her goblet to her lips. Drowning her displeasure of losing in the bitter taste of wine.

"You two knew?" Aragorn questioned, the pitch of his voice rising slightly as it slowly dawned upon him that his elven companions had heard what transpired in the hall. "Knew of it, bet on it. Potato, potato as the hobbits would say." Legolas spoke, his shoulder rising and falling in casualty as the lady of Rivendell grumbled into her wine.

"I cannot believe you allowed him to fuck you so easily! I aided you in finding a gown!" Arwen huffed, her plump lips protruding outwards in a slight pout as her narrowed gaze focused on you.

"I waited as long as I could, my lady. I grew impatient." You spoke, grabbing a goblet of wine from a nearby table as you approached the trio. A familiar heat returned to the king's face as it slowly dawned upon him that his own wife had bet upon his eagerness to bed her. "You were in on this?" His voice was no louder than a whisper, yet as squeaky as a mouse.

The blur of your head nodding caused the heat within Aragorn's cheeks to burn righter, nearly matching the shade of rouge within the elven princess' cup.

"She offered me half her winnings if I aided her." You explained casually, allowing the sweet tang of wine to trickle into your mouth as the elven prince gloated about his winnings.

The king of Gondor stood there mindlessly, his face as red as wine as one thought looped within his mind: elves and their damned betting.

[rottencherrypie]

Hey, I love your work! I wondered if you were doing your headers and dividers yourself, and if so, how the hell are you making them this cool?

Hello, dear! I am so touched to hear that you enjoy my writings—I always get all misty-eyed and smiley whenever someone says so <3—but, onto the purpose of your question:

Dividers — I do make my own dividers, I use a website called coolors.co because it allows me to add my own hex codes (which I usually copy the color hexes in my header text) and directly save the image to my device. Once the image is saved, I either open a new project on ibisPaint X or photopea.com with the canvas size at 520 (width) x 5 (height) and then adjust the gradient to fit the canvas. (It can be a bit tricky to move on the desktop site, so if you would like to move it use the app. I prefer to add it as I go!)

Text Headers — I use this website for my gradient text headers. It works best on the computer, but to use it, simply type select the starting color of the gradient and the ending color of the gradient before adding your text in the upper box—then click run to recieve the code for your text. Before proceeding, make sure you have your post on the HTML text editor on Tumblr and add in which header size you would like, example: for biggest header start with <h1> then paste in the code and end it with <h1/> before switching the text editor back to rich text (I use <h2>(code)<h2/>). In my opinion, it is easier to do this first then add the rest of your post.

Photo Headers — Truth be told, I usually just go on Pinterest and download an array of photos before editing them. I crop them to the 1:1 setting before adjusting the saturation, brightness, sharpness, and color hue through my phone's gallery app before I add them to my post on Tumblr. I prefer to have three photos in a row because it looks cool in my opinion. (If it is a single photo, then I crop it to be about 720 x 160)

GIF Headers — For GIF Headers, I would find clips (usually around 1080 to 4k) or directly screen record the section of the movie before bringing it to CapCut. I would use the aspect ratio 2.35:1 (or 2:1 depending on how large I want it to be) and stretch the clip to fit the ratio accordingly before adjusting the saturation, adding some filters, adjusting the sharpness, and exporting the clips. I would then bring the clip to ezgif.com and convert it on there while using the size 540xAUTO (for Tumblr). It may take some trial and error to get it right, I suggest keeping the video under 2 seconds long for best results.

I apologize for rambling on, I really wanted to cover all my bases to help! I hope you have a wonderful New Years <3

[rottencherrypie]

—cherry's suggestion box

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Current Status: Open until January 5th, 2025

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦. 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Hello, lovely readers! I appreciate all of your interest in my writings, so I have decided to open up a suggestion box. You may be wondering, "what is a suggestion box?" or "how do we use it?", well, I'll tell you.

A suggestion box for me is essentially like a request box, my brain just does not appear to like the idea of a request box, yet is fine with a suggestion box. I do not ask questions, I am just the meat puppet it controls.

How do you use the suggestion box — well, it is rather simple! Click the link below and type in your suggestion! It can be for any character, or any fandom, but make sure you read the rules that are on the suggestion box!

To find the suggestion box, simply click here!

This post will be unpinned when suggestions are not being taken! Thank you for your interest in my writings!

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Another (Thorin x Reader)

Summary - The dwarven king is determined to make his seed take again.

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader, fem!reader, fingering (reader receiving), mention of a womb, female genitalia (reader), bodily fluids, implied previous smut, dom/sub undertones, slight dom!Thorin, "good girl" is used, heavily implied previous pregnancy, breeding kink, overstimulation, implied following sex.

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person

Word Count - 700+ (a short one)

A/N - Another one from the suggestion box on my Instagram! (I am trying to polish up the form a bit, and get through the current suggestions before I post it on here too!) "would love a thorin blurb with fingering. maybe breeding kink too." — (anonymous) I hope this lives up to what you envisioned, sweet one! The only descriptions used for the reader are that their lips are swollen from kissing, their ass is round, and their skin is referred to as "delicate". (I had no idea what to put as the header, so I did a pomegranate and flowers because they are associated with fertility?) Pure smut below the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

The bitter mountain air nipped at your exposed, quivering flesh as the sounds of your exhausted mewls danced throughout the air. A stream of drool cascaded out of the corner of your kiss-swollen lips, dripping down your chin and staining the silken sheets beneath you. Though, the sheets had seen far more within the past hour, stained with the essence of your pleasure and the spilt seed of the dwarven king.

"Shh, shh," The sudden heat of his breath against the exposed flesh of your arse made a shiver roam down your spine, furthering the quivering of your exhausted legs as his rough, calloused hands began to caress the roundness of your buttocks softly. "you must relax if it is to take." The king cooed as the thickness of his fingers delved into your exhausted, sensitive hole.

A fullness that made your nails dig into the smooth fabric beneath you, piercing into the silken sheets and nearly tearing it from the seams as the hot, stickiness of the dwarf's cum was pushed deeper into your aching walls.

"Thorin..." His name left your lips in an exhausted mewl, the corners of your eyes staining with tears. The weight of your chest sunk further into the mattress, further pressing your arse into the air as his thick fingers continued to push inside of you—curling up against your most sensitive spot, forcing another strained sound of pleasure from your soft lips. "...too much...can't...gonna..." A string of nonsensical words fell from your lips, a mixture of a desperate plea for the dwarf to give you a moment of recovery and a cry to continue as that familiar tingle began to spread throughout the pit of your stomach.

"Shh, shh," The dwarven king softly hushed you, yet his fingers continued to move within. The pace at which his hand moved was slow yet calculated—lulling you into a false sense of stability before his fingers spread apart, stretching your inner walls for a moment before quickly snapping back together. "just one more. I know you can give me another." He cooed. His tone dripped with false affection, knowing all too well he was pushing you to your limits—but he didn't care. What the king wanted, the king got—and he wanted you to cum again, just how he wanted you round with another child.

"Be a good girl for me and let it happen." He continued, as did the motions of his fingers inside you. They ranged in variation: one moment curling against your spongy spot, while the next, they scissored against your quivering walls. There was no rhyme or reason for the lack of pattern—he just wanted to watch you squirm. And squirm you did as he suddenly pressed his thick, calloused thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

It tingled, nearly burnt, as the weight of his thumb pressed against your clit—tracing slow circles upon it as your hips mindlessly bucked into his palm. If you were to raise your head from the plushness of the bed and look back at the dwarf, you would see how a smug grin curved upon his thin lips as your wet walls clenched around his fingers—your cunt's desperate plea for release.

Within a matter of breaths, the sound of your muffled cries of pleasure filled the air. The essence of your pleasure gushed out of your aching cunt, coating the king's hand and forearm with its wetness.

"That's it." The king would coo, pressing a kiss upon the middle of your back as his free hand slid to the front of your lower abdomen. Resting right above where a babe would soon grow, keeping you steady as he pushed the remnants of his seed deeper within your walls—as if he was attempting to shove it up to your womb. "It will surely take." His words vibrated against your back as he pressed another kiss upon your skin; the harshness of his beard rubbing against your delicate flesh sent another tingle throughout your body.

"And if it does not?" You managed to question, your mind still in a daze from the endless hours you had spent being pumped full to the brim with the king's seed. Inner walls sore and likely bruised, sheets stained with the few droplets that spilt out from your warmth. "And if it does not," The king began, raising his head from your back—his beard grazing against your skin as the bed groaned at the shifting weight. "then we have all spring to make it take."

It was not a suggestion; it was a promise.

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Positions

Summary - The favorite positions of some of Middle-Earth's finest royals...

Warnings - Smut, language, fem!reader, afab!reader, mention of male genitalia (characters), mention of female genitalia (reader), missionary sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (reader receiving, Fili and Legolas give), facesitting, implied squirting, mention of bodily fluids, cowgirl position, mention of breasts (reader), sub/dom dynamics, implied dom!Reader, implied sub!Kili (he finds a way), praise kink (Kili), slight dirty talk (various characters), slight sensation play, doggystyle position/bent over, voyeurism (Thranduil stop fucking the reader in front of guards), slight dark!Thranduil, slight dom!Thranduil, slight sub!Reader, kneeling, slight dark!Legolas, dom!Legolas, lowkey mean!Legolas, implied brat!Reader, oral sex (Legolas receiving), fingering (reader receiving), slight powerplay (if you squint), possible dumbification (if you squint), implied punishing, cum eating, and maybe more (I might have missed some).

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person

Pairings - Thorin x Reader, Fili x Reader, Kili x Reader, Thranduil x Reader, Legolas x Reader

Word Count - 3,800+ (I got carried away at some parts)

A/N - This is from my suggestion box which I had posted on Instagram (I will add the suggestion box here too eventually), the person who sent in this suggestion requested to not be tagged but I still wanted to thank them for their suggestion! This is more headcanon-like, so it varies a bit in length each section. I did attempt to give some plot based roughly around the suggestion given! There is only the header image in this post because Tumblr would not save the draft with the gifs I attempted to add, so I apologize for that! Reader is implied to have tits and an ass large enough to jiggle, soft hair, and I believe plump lips. Smut below!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

-thorin

Missionary. The dwarven king of Erebor is a man of routine. Whether intentional or nonintentional routines, they are a part of the raven-haired man's life.

He was a simple dwarf, viewing routines and structure as the utmost importance as it was there to prevent chaos—or as much chaos that was preventable within Middle-Earth, which appeared to be close to none.

The dwarven king's love for routine touched all aspects of his life, including the more intimate aspects of his bed.

It was not an intentional routine, but rather a formed one caused by stressors—something he often cursed, but in this instance would thank as it had led him to many pleasurable nights.

It was made gradually, the first few nights of the king's reign after the battle were particularly stressful. He found himself restless, tossing and turning within the fur bedding as his beloved lay beside him—lacking an equal amount of rest due to how the bed shook with each toss of his sturdy form.

So, to settle the king's mind—and to make the bed creak with something other than displeasure—the queen motioned for him to crawl onto her. It was a mere tired curl of a finger, yet the king knew what she was requesting; and what his beloved wanted, she got.

The thickness of his cock slowly split open her tired, wet walls. The weight upon his shoulders eased as the weight of his cock eased into her, a mixture of relief and exhaustion danced upon his face as his hips began to rock at a steady speed. The toned flesh of his hips met against the plumpness of her arse as he slowly wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing his tired cock to carve deeper into her walls.

An act which slowly drifted into nothingness, as the dwarven king soon fell asleep with his head in the crook of her neck after the heat of his seed flooded into her drenched core—coating the walls of her womb with a fresh painting of white.

As the stressors of the crown became more frequent, so did the nights of the queen's comfort. Though, at times that comfort extended into the daytime during particularly frustrating elven visits.

The all too familiar sight of the dwarven king climbing on you filled your view, yet the shade of his sapphire-colored eyes had dimmed with darkness reserved for the elven king of Mirkwood. You were aware of how much the pair despised one another, how their feud over who was owed what had led to death and devastation—yet, you had little time to dwell upon the past as the thickness of the king's cock pushed into your core.

The weight of your head fell back against the smoothness of the pillows, as the weight of your chest lifted upwards slightly, allowing your back to arch and your dwarven lover to gain further access within the warmth of your walls as he pushed into you. The bones of his hips snapped against the flesh of your arse with a rough fury, the slapping of skin meeting each other echoing throughout the room as his darkened eyes peered into yours.

The dwarven king would never vocalize it, but he loved watching the subtle reactions your eyes held as he pounded into you. He loved the ways your eyelids would flutter when he grazed your most sensitive spot, how you would go slightly cross-eyed when you neared your peak, and the way your eyes glistened with tears when he had pushed you to the breaking point one too many times.

Your reactions were routine, and the dwarven king needed routine just like a fish needed water or a wolf needed to hunt. You were his routine, and he needed you like he needed air to live.

──────

-fili

Facesitting. The golden-haired prince was far more free when it came to routines, unlike his uncle. The prince found routines constrictive.

Though he was the heir to the throne, the eldest prince of Erebor preferred to have freedom in his life. He wanted to joust with fellow warriors, to drink ale and dance, and to be free to slip away to breathe whenever he desired.

Yet, his yearning for breath seemed far distant within the realms of his quarters. As much as the dwarven prince enjoyed his pleasures, he favored pleasuring his beloved above receiving his own.

A fact that left you taken aback when the prince had confided in you that he found giving pleasure far more rewarding than receiving it; you had stood there for what had felt like ages to the poor golden-haired dwarf as you blinked mindlessly at him. Had you been dreaming? A man who wished to pleasure another rather than receive it?

"Are you jesting?" The question was quickly met with an amused snort from the prince; the corners of his lips curved into a lopsided grin as his thick, calloused hand cradled the side of your face. "I'll have you know that I take eating cunt very seriously, my love." The dwarven prince promised you.

A promise he showed swiftly.

It was not exactly perfect the first time—though, no first time truly was perfect—but it was unlike anything you had experienced prior. You were not a pure maiden, you had your fair share of lovers before the golden prince, and he had some prior flings as well, yet none of your previous lovers had ever been so eager to feast upon you before.

The prickle of his bearded face sent shivers down your spine as his lips hungrily sucked upon the wetness of your cunt. His hands tightly gripped your thighs, keeping you steady upon his face as his thick tongue lapped up the entirety of your cunt as he devoured you like a starved man with a meal.

Your thighs quivered around the sides of his head as you attempted to hover above him, worried he was not receiving enough air as he drowned himself in the wetness of your core. His skilled tongue delved into your crevices, lapping up every drop of your sweet, pure nectar as he snarled in pleasure.

"Sit on me." The heat of his words caressed your throbbing cunt, making it twitch from the arousing sensation. "But—" Before you could begin your protests, the golden-haired prince tugged you down upon his face.

A surprised gasp fell from your lips as the prince dipped his tongue into your core, happily spelling his name upon the walls of your core as his hairy face ground into you—drenching his beard and mustache with your essence.

The soft prick of his nails would dig into the plump flesh of your arse as his calloused hands held you steady, ensuring that the fullness of your weight would not leave his face until he made it so.

He would continue to feast at you, rocking your hips as he continued to swirl his tongue around your walls. Occasionally, he would slip his tongue out of you, allowing his lips to encase your pretty little bundle of nerves—hungrily sucking upon your throbbing clit until your sweet squirt gushed down upon his face, soaking his beard with your juices before he delved his tongue back your twitching core.

He would drink you like water—and if he had it his way, he would drink you more than he drank water.

──────

-kili

Cowgirl. The youngest prince of the Misty Mountains, Prince Kili, was not the most presentable royal of the line of Durin.

It was not a matter of his looks, though many would claim he was prettier to elves than he was to dwarves: it was a matter of his maturity. The younger prince was reckless, finding pranks and training far more entertaining than the duties of the dwarven courts.

Or, that is what he would claim when asked of his wavering sense of duty. The truth was that the young prince required guidance.

He yearned to be told what to do. The brunette prince despised how he had to ponder decisions, wondering if he would make the proper one or if he would make a fool of himself in the process; he preferred being told what to do and when to do it.

A yearning that had trickled into his nights of passion as well.

You were a breath of fresh air for the dwarven prince. The hopeless romantic of a dwarf thanked his lucky stars each night with you, as you were always to the point and told him verbatim what you wanted from him—and he was more than happy to oblige.

When you had first told Kili of your preference to be on top during sex, it was like a whole other world had opened up for him. He was not necessarily a virgin, but he was not the most experienced of his kin either. He had a few messy encounters that left him feeling less than satisfied and embarrassed.

Regardless of how hard the dwarven prince had tried, sex never felt right to him before his first night with you.

His honey-colored eyes bore up into your gemstone-colored ones, pupils dilated with affection as he watched you climb on him. The roughness of his calloused hands would encase the softness of your hips, lightly holding onto them as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. The sensation was new to him, the warmth of your walls gripped him in all directions as the wetness coated him entirely as you began to glide on his length.

The bed creaked and groaned with each motion of your hips, his gaze falling from your eyes and onto the flesh of your chest which bounced and jiggled with each motion you made. He was utterly entranced.

A soft slew of moans would fall from his lips, the weight of his head tilting back against pillows beneath him as you continued to pleasure yourself upon the thickness of his cock.

"Fuck, please thrust up, Kili." A request the dwarven prince would eagerly comply to, his hips thrusting up to meet the plumpness of your ass each time you lowered it down upon him. "Just like that. Good boy."

Good boy. A simple name that further fueled the dwarven prince into abiding by your commands, doing everything within his power to please you in and out of his bed in the hopes of being called that delicious name once more.

And a good boy he was.

The dwarven prince was more than eager to please you. Never touched himself without your approval, nor did he touch you without approval—even now as he stared at your pretty breasts as they jiggled in front of his face, bouncing tauntingly as you bounced upon his aching cock.

His balls were filled to the brim with seed, becoming nearly painful from their fullness yet he did not dare release a single droplet without approval from his beloved. He simply lay there, allowing his cock to be used as a device of pleasure for the woman he loved most as she continued to coat the throbbing, aching length with her essence.

"Fuck...that's a good boy." The purred praise of your pleasure would cause the dwarf's cock to stir within your walls, desperately twitching for release. "Alright, alright. You've waited long enough." Your chuckled words would quickly turn to moans as the prince's hips began to thrust up.

His aching cock carved its way deep into your walls, hitting the most special spongy spot within your core in a repeated pattern—as if he was trained to give you pleasure even as he chased after his own. The prince would manage to milk a final orgasm out of you, the essence of your pleasure dripping down and coating his filled balls before he emptied his seed deep inside of you.

The weight of his body sank back into the plush bedding beneath him, as the corners of his lips would curve into a lopsided grin as your soft hands caressed the roughness of his stubbled face while you cooed soft praises to him.

He needed guidance, but he sought it most from you.

──────

-thranduil

Doggystyle. Unlike his dwarven counterparts, the elven king of Mirkwood found solace in his busy schedule.

Where some found stressors in royal life, the elven king found peace and comfort. He would never vocalize it, but he found the hustle and bustle within his daily duties as king soothing.

Perhaps it was how quickly everything transpired, never allowing him a moment to dwell upon the past and all the mistakes that lay dormant within it. Or he sought the chaos of life while others shrunk away in fear of it. Regardless of what it was, the elven king found himself entranced by things done quickly—and this extended into the realms of his chambers.

Though many elves were romantic by nature, playing sonatas of their love for one another, writing endless poems, and spending a tedious amount of time courting, the king of Mirkwood was rather forward.

He saw no point in the pleasantries of courting. After all, he was king of Mirkwood—in his mind, he had done more than enough just by holding that title. However, the king was wise enough to never vocalize his opinions on the matter, as he bit back any snide remark he had on the matter with a bitter grin as he focused on what was important: you were his.

A fact that was well-known to all within the woodland kingdom, as the sounds of your pleasure were ever-playing throughout the twisted halls. Morning, noon, and night. A tune that none could forget, one which the elven king seemed to orchestrate whenever he caught a guard's gaze lingering upon you for a moment too long.

The position was like second nature to you, engraved in the very cells of your body after so much time together with the elven king. Your arse was up in the air as your chest was pressed firmly against the smoothness of the silk sheets under you while the elven king slowly entered you. His thickness parted your wet walls, wetness you were ever thankful for, as the elven king did not seem to give you a moment of breath before his hips snapped forth, meeting the plumpness of your flesh.

His motions were sharp yet poised and precise.

The thickness of his length would delve deep inside of you, as his slender hands would grasp upon the plumpness of your rear. A grasp tight enough to hold you in place, ensuring that your hips never dropped as his thickened length continued to carve into your inner walls, yet loose enough to allow your ass to jiggle as his hips bounced off of it.

The elven king loved watching your ass bounce, it was something that left him hypnotized. The sight of your sweet, plump flesh reacting to his possessive thrusts allowed the weight of his days to melt away—as well as the anger he held towards that damn guard.

The cries of your pleasure would be muffled, either by a pillow or the very sheets you laid upon, as the elven king would lean forward—adding more of his weight into each harsh thrust of his hips.

Yet, there were times when you could not muffle the sounds of your pleasure—even when you desperately yearned to.

At times, the elven king enjoyed proving a point to those he caught with lingering gazes towards you. He would instruct they fetch you from your shared quarters, insisting they bring you to his throne room for something of urgency. And like a good servant to the king, they would.

Within the blink of an eye, you were bent over the twisted throne—your hands desperately clawing at the variously curved wooden throne as the elven king hoisted up your skirts; your dripping cunt on display for all to see, including that damn guard.

The elven king's motions would be swift and fluid, his cock buried deep within your wet, welcoming walls, yet his gaze would not be upon the plumpness of your arse. Instead, his cold, pale sapphire gaze would be locked upon the armored man who dared gaze upon you for too long.

His gaze would be piercing, never leaving the other man as the bones of his hips would snap against the plumpness of your ass, making each thrust sharper than the last—ensuring the swollen tip of his cock would hit against the most pleasurable spongy spot within you.

As your cries of pleasure danced throughout the air, it carried a weight throughout the woodland halls. A reminder to all those who inhabited them that the elven king moved swiftly, and could have you just as swiftly.

──────

-legolas

Kneeling. Due to the ever-changing nature of Middle-Earth, there were very few within it that gave the elven prince a sense of control.

Perhaps it was the nature of irony: a prince who believed he lacked control, heir to a throne yet yearning for more. His logical mind reasoned with this sensation, rationalizing it as nothing more than a search for stability amongst the most recent chaos within Middle-Earth. Yet, the emotional sphere of his mind yelled that it was for something more.

It was a thirst that the elf could not quench nor ignore.

The yearning within him was further than matters of the mind; it felt as if it was in his blood and bones. An unspoken birthright, one burned deep into the very essence of his being—he craved, no, he needed control.

And he found that control in you.

You were one, if not the only, consistency in the elven prince's life. Regardless of what transpired within the woodland realms—or realms outside of it—you were always there, waiting within the secure walls of his chambers, eagerly awaiting him upon the plush bed.

To him, you were a beautiful little doll. His perfect little plaything, the one he adored and showered with affection and treasures. He ensured that you were never left yearning—unless you had been bad that is.

On the days you were good, the elven prince would pull you to the edge of the bed, kneeling between the plushness of your thighs before he buried his smooth face between them. The wetness of his tongue would caress the outerness of your entrance, as the fullness of his slender fingers delved inside of your core.

As the fullness of his fingers would stretch your inner walls, carving and curving into the most pleasurable spots within your textured core, his eager tongue would lap up any droplet of your sweet nectar his fingers would push out. The squelching click of your damped cunt would echo throughout the air, accompanied by your soft mewls of pleasure as the elven prince took his time pleasuring you.

He was precise and calculated with each stroke of his fingers: he knew the inner workings of your cunt better than he knew the back of his hand—knowing exactly which sensitive, spongy spot to press into to make your sweet thighs tighten around the sides of his head. How fast to pump his fingers within you to make your breath hitch from pleasure, and when his lips needed to wrap around that sweet little clit of yours to make you drench his hand—and forearm—with your juices.

But on days when you were bad, or life merely felt bad to the prince: it was you who knelt.

His slender fingers, the ones that once gave you such immense pleasure, would be tangled within the softness of your hair. The grasp he held upon your head depended upon the circumstances of the day—but more often than not, it was firm.

The fullness of his cock would push into your mouth, tainting it with the bitter, salty tang of his precum as he would sink in as far as your throat would allow him—stopping when the vibrations of your gag would echo on his thickened length. Slowly, he would puppet your head upon his cock, making it bob back and forth as he slowly sunk more of his cock into your throat until the plumpness of your lips met the flesh of his abdomen.

"That's it, pretty girl." The elven prince would coo, his sapphire gaze boring down upon you, watching as the thickness of him forced the saliva out of your mouth—stained the faintest hue of white from the mixture of his precum—watching as it rolled out of the inner corners of your mouth and down your chin. "Such a messy little thing." He would continue to puppet your head at an increasing speed, the bones of his hips meeting the flesh of your face as he jutted his hips into your mouth; ensuring he was as deep as he could be within it.

If you had been particularly bad, then he would hold your head firmly in place—thrusting in your mouth at a quickened pace, allowing the weight of his balls to bounce upon your chin, coating them with the sticky mixture his cock forced out of that pretty mouth of yours. As you would cough and gag at the sensation, the elven prince would simply shush you. "Ah, ah, ah," He'd taunt, a purposefully harsh thrust making his balls slap against your chin as he held you steady. "you had such a nasty mouth earlier, why not keep it nasty?" He'd coo, one filled with fake care and compassion—a taunt at your previous actions as he continued to fuck your throat until he painted it white with his seed.

But on the days when you were good and the world was bad, he was far more tender.

Though his grasp remained firm and his thrusts a bit rough, the elven prince was not punishing you. With each gag, cough, or whimper that vibrated upon his cock—he would pull back until the throbbing tip rested upon your plump lips. "That's my pretty girl, such a good girl for me." He'd praise, a hand dropping from the back of your head to softly caress the side of your face until you gave the okay to continue.

A slew of pleased praises would fall from his lips as he fucked your mouth, the weight of his head tilting backward as his grasp remained firm on the back of your head. "I'm going to fill your mouth." He'd gasp out, the tips of his nails digging into the back of your head as his hips stuttered into your mouth. "Swallow it and I'll give you anything you want, my pretty girl." And he did, the warming rush of his salty seed would flood your mouth—making you down it with a choked gag, yet it was still done.

The elven prince would continue to praise you for being a good girl, his good girl, as he pulled his cock from your mouth. The tightness of his grasp dropped from the back of your head, one hand meeting the side of your face to return to the earlier caress as the other wiped away the remnants of his previous actions from your lips—giving him a sense of control as he came down from the highs of his pleasure, the same control he had once sought after.

──────

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Thorin, Fili, Kili, Thranduil, Legolas

Want to read it as book chapters? Read separately on Wattpad

Thorin, Fili, Kili, Thranduil, Legolas

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Milk (Sub!Kili x Dom!Reader)

Summary - Kili drains your tits.

Warnings - Smut (leans more spice imo), language, reader can lactate, lactophilia, breastfeeding kink, sub!Kili, dom!Reader, fem!Reader, sub/dom dynamics, mommy kink, reader is called Mommy, name calling (Kili is called a slut), mention of a cock cage, implied pet play, grinding/dry humping (Kili humps the reader's leg), mention of male genitalia (Kili), mention of breasts (reader), mentions of nipples (reader), brief humiliation kink (Kili), Kili whimpers, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person

Word Count - 900+

A/N - Sub!Kili has made a comeback! I am still in the midst of a writer's block, hence why I did not post last week, and am a tad sick awaiting a period so I made this? I am working on a masterlist and realized I have not written for Kili much, so I wanted to have another little something to add on for his section. The reader does not have any defining traits other than tits and soft lips. I am also trying out a new header and divider so I hope you all like it! It took me a while to figure it out. Pure smut below.

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A pleased hum vibrated against your sensitive nipple as the suction continued, though the cheek that leaned firmly into the fullness of your milk-filled teet was not a babe. No, instead of a cute little babe, it was the second dwarven prince of Erebor, your beloved little pet.

The lids of his amber-colored eyes had fluttered shut the moment his lips encased the sensitivity of your nipple, the weight upon his shoulders seeming to ease away for a moment as the sweetness of your milk flooded his mouth. Not too salty, not too sweet: utter perfection.

A string of varied sounds vibrated against your breast—some moans, some whimpers, yet all sounded so utterly and adorably pathetic.

As the life-sustaining liquid continued to fill the dwarf's mouth, coating his tongue with your delicious flavor, his hips mindlessly bucked against your thigh. Gliding back and forth upon the length, sliding back to the edge of your knee before bucking back as he continuously swallowed your milk. You could feel how his cock twitched and throbbed with each mouthful he downed.

It was as if the dwarf was in a world of his own. Completely entranced by the taste of your milk, as if it had enveloped him entirely—similar to how his lips and tongue enveloped your tit.

His aching cock continued to throb and twitch as he greedily gulped down another mouthful, his calloused hand grasping at your free breast as he whimpered eagerly for more as the weight of which his lips surrounded began to lighten.

"Aww, you want more?" The question left your lips in a teasing coo, knowing the dwarven prince would do anything you said if it meant another sip of the liquid gold from your breast.

The weight of his head shifted, now bobbing into your draining breast as his amber-colored eyes fluttered open. The size of his pupils enlarged, making his gaze appear even more puppy-like as he whimpered with your tit still between his lips.

"Please." The word was muffled partially upon the fat of your tit; the lids of his eyes grew heavy as the suction of his lips eased. It was clear the dwarf thought you would cave to his pathetic plea. But he thought wrong. "And you believe you earned more of my milk by fucking my leg like a dog?" Your words came out harsher than intended, and for a brief moment, you wondered if you had been too cruel—until you felt his cock twitch against your thigh. The dirty little whore.

"I—" The words died upon his tongue, or rather your breast, as the dwarf attempted to find a way to excuse his lewd acts. "I am sorry." He trailed off, his lips detaching from your breast as the heat of his calloused hand left your other.

"You are sorry, what?" You questioned, your tone dripped with assertion as you leaned your chest towards him, taunting him with what he so desperately craved. "Say it right, cunt." The words left your soft lips in a commanding snarl, causing the weight of his cock to twitch against your thigh yet again.

"I am so sorry, mommy." Though the words left his lips in a humiliated quiver, the size of his pupils dilated further. What a pathetic little slut.

A mocking laugh rumbled within your chest. "Aww, look at that," As you began, your hand glid up from the dwarf's toned lower back to his auburn locks, tangling within the smooth strands in a firm grasp. "he can be a good boy." The purred praise was quickly masked by the dwarf's surprised hiss in pain as you tugged at the soft strands, the stinging sensation making his aching cock harden further. The tip was now a purple-ish red tone, as it leaked with creamy white tears as his hips subtly jutted forward, desperately seeking relief.

"Ah, ah, ah." You tutted, snagging at the auburn strands further, forcing his head to the side—exposing the various marks you had left upon the crook of his neck the week prior. "You are going to be a good boy for mommy and drain her tits without fucking yourself like a hound in heat on my leg." You spoke sternly, yet the corners of your lips curved up in a grin, enjoying how pathetic the dwarven prince was under your control.

"But—" The prince began to speak, but you did not allow him to get another word out. "No buts or I'll put your cock back in its cage." A threat that sent a shiver down the dwarf's spine, knowing that you would act upon it as his cock is always kept within it when he is not of use to you.

"Now, drain my tits," You spoke as you leaned forwards, the nipple of your heavier tit grazing against his thin lips. "and perhaps I will consider draining your balls if you do a good job." "Yes, mommy!" The dwarf's eager words nearly masked the end of your sentence, his thin lips quick to part open to encase your nipple, yet he was smart enough to wait for your command.

"And?" The expectant question hung heavy within the chilled air, air which nipped at your nipples, hardening them further as they waited to be encased by the dwarf's hungry mouth. "Thank you, mommy." He spoke sheepishly, the corners of his lips curved upwards in a lopsided grin, the same stupid grin you had fallen for.

"Good." You nodded, the tension of your grasp eased from his hair as yet the weight of your hand remained on the back of his head. "Now hurry before I change my mind." A command that did not need repetition, as the dwarf's lips quickly encased your tit—draining it like the good little pet he is.

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Hidden Touch (Thranduil x Reader)

Summary - In the midst of a meeting with the dwarves of Erebor, Thranduil decides to entertain himself with your hole.

Warnings - Smut, language, fingering (reader receiving), implied afab reader (though could possible be read differently), slight name calling (once), technically voyeurism, public fingering, bad descriptions (I tried).

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person

Word Count - 900+

A/N - Another smut I wrote on my phone and polished up a little bit. This was originally meant to be a Thorin smut, but I realized he does not wear that many rings...and rings were important to the smut or at least to me. There is only one translation in this smut, and Y/N is not used once (look at me, not relying on Y/N). I tried to keep this as vague as possible, only thing really note worthy is the reader's nails can dig into their seat. I am still in the midst of writer's block (save me), but thankfully had a sip of creativity while waiting for a package to arrive. I finally got a new vibrator. I will add the translation below. Smut below.

Translation - mui ithil (my moon)

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«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

The roaring boom of the dwarven king's voice echoed throughout the mountain halls. His voice rumbled deep with emotion as he paced back and forth in front of the large, stone table. His gestures were sharp, full of rage as he rambled on and on about, well, you were not aware of what.

Perhaps need for supplies? The winter had been rather harsh, the nip of the chilled air against your cheeks reminding you of its presence. Or was it a discussion of trades? You could not seem to remember for the life of you what this meeting was of.

And despite how loud the dwarven king's voice was, all you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat within your skull. Thumping at a rapid pace as you attempted to remain composed.

The tips of your nails dug into the plush seat beneath you, the inner flesh of your cheek sucked inwards and now resting in a snug pinch between your back molars as you desperately attempted to stay silent. Yet, your silence was not kept for long as the elven king's fingers continued to move within you.

The stretch of his slender fingers was deep and calculated. He knew every spot within your body like the back of his hand—knowing exactly how hard to press and which spongey spot to aim for to force you to whimper.

His large, slender fingers curved within the dampened walls of your core—curving up to meet one of your sweet spots, the tips of his nails grazing against it ever-so-slightly forcing a hitched gasp to fall from your lips.

The room had suddenly gone silent at the sound, all eyes falling upon you as you awkwardly shifted within your seat. A familiar heat began to spread throughout the flesh of your cheeks as you quickly masked the sound with a slew of coughs, excusing your gasp with the excuse of being unused to mountain air, diverting attention from you as most gazes fell back to the pacing dwarf.

"Careful, mui ithil," The heat of the elven king's breath grazed your ear as he leaned down to you, his voice no louder than the softest whisper—ensuring only your ears heard him amongst the loudness of dwarves. "We wouldn't want our hosts to know what a slut you are, would we?"

All moisture within your mouth dried at his question, and your gaze quickly shifted from the now-pacing dwarven king to your elven lover. His position was calm and composed, as regal as he always was. An air of respect surrounded him, commanding attention and intimidating all with a simple glance.

He appeared as composed as he was from the moment he sat upon the plush chair—as if he was not currently fingering you beneath the dwarf's table.

"You do not think I am trying?" The question was choked out between gritted teeth, a quivering whisper as you desperately clawed at the plushness beneath you. A soft hiss was soon to follow the strained question as you felt his fingers almost fill you—only stalled by the metal rings that rested upon the base of them.

Rings you knew all too well. You did not need to glance down to be able to tell which one specifically was grinding into the outer dampness of your sensitive flesh.

It was one of silver, it sprawled out in various directions with the appearance of sharpened edges but was relatively smooth. Upon the center of the ring laid a hefty white stone, one in which the reflection of your sopping hole could be seen as it had recently been polished.

A ring that constantly jabbed at your sensitivity, pressing against the outer ring of flesh that surrounded your receptive hole each time the large, slender lengths of flesh dove within you.

The soft squelching click of his fingers exploring the depths of your wetness danced throughout the air, thankfully being masked by the annoyed thumps of the dwarven king's booted feet. A false sense of security arose within your chest at this; perhaps you would be able to remain as composed as your lover was. Perhaps he would stop toying with you as all focus now resided on the furious dwarf.

Yet, as soon as the secure sense arose within your chest, it was ripped away at the sensation of his fingers curling within you. A familiar static sensation arose within the pit of your core at the sensation, the size of your eyes widening as your nails sunk into the softness beneath you—likely pricking holes in the lavish upholstery.

"Thranduil—" His name clung within your throat, escaping as a choked whisper as you could not help but sink in the ministrations of his hand. The chilled metal of his rings scrapped against your dampened entrance, as the smoothness of the various parts pressed around the sensitive hole. A sensation accompanied by the steady sway of the elven king's fingers dancing within you—swaying to the same beat of the angered dwarf's thumps. It was far too difficult to speak, and it was just as difficult to think of anything other than remaining silent, or else the dwarves would know.

The corners of the elven king's lips lifted upwards into a slight grin—he had you exactly where he wanted you. Weak. Malleable. And desperate.

"Try harder." The words left his smug lips in a taunted whisper as his gaze drifted back to the king he was there to meet by your request—or rather nag. "This is of utmost importance, is it not?" The taunts continued, his voice remaining low and steady as the sway of his fingers did not cease. Pumping, curving, and carving their way inside of you in sync with the evergoing rants.

This was going to be a long meeting.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»