#inserts lotr

[keelifallen]

[floatyflowers]

You are the daughter of Sauron and everyone is obsessed with you as they are obsessed with the rings.(Part 1)

"Everyone was aware that falling in love with you was madness, given your father's identity. Still, no one minded as long as they could have you by their side."

Morgoth/Melkor

He is obsessed with you as much as he is obsessed with the Silmarils.

Doesn't care if you are the daughter of his servant, he wants you.

Despite your refusal of Morgoth's advences, Sauron encourages you, and wanting to please your father, you decided to try and please Melkor.

"Your soul and body are mine like those silmarils"

He crafted a necklace made out of one of the Silmarils, gifting it to you as a token of your unity.

Thankfully, the Valar captured him after the battle of Wrath, however you already left him before the battle of Wrath.

Maedhros

You met him while he was in Thangorodrim, getting tormented by your father.

At that time Morgoth was imprisoned in Angband, so you were free from his obsessed jealousy.

However, after seeing the handsome red-haired elf for the first time, you decided to take care of him and try to free him, feeling sympathy and gulit.

After freeing him with the help of his cousin Fingon who had to cut off his hand to free him, Maedhros tried to convince you to escape with him, after you handed him the Silmaril Morgoth gave you.

"Come with me, you will find peace away from your father's clutches"

And you did leave with him after realizing how awful Sauron is.

But your decision is like falling into another trap.

As Maedhros appeared to be the same as Morgoth in causing violence.

Celebrimbor

After discovering what Maedhros and his brothers have done to their kin, you fled without a second thought.

And as years passed, you kept yourself hidden wandering alone, until you met Celebrimbor whom you find his knowledge remarkable.

You thought of leaving when you discovered that he is the nephew of Maedhros, but his generosity tempted you to stay, and you did.

Honestly, you thought you found peace with him in the safety of his home, but that was never the case, Celebrimbor was possessive and refused to let you leave.

He crafted special rings to keep you safe from danger, and also to keep you in love with him.

"Your pain, your pleasure, your every thought belongs to me. You're mine to command and possess."

Celebrimbor thought he owned you, until Annatar 'Sauron' came into the picture and corrupted Celebrimbor into making the rings.

Sauron/Annatar 'platonic'

Sauron didn't realize how much you meant to him until you ran away.

He almost went insane and never stopped searching for you.

So, when he encountered Celebrimbor, he didn't expect to see you, and deep down it steered horrible jealousy at the sight of you, his only child, happy with Celebrimbor.

Adding to this, he noticed Celebrimbor's obessesive behavior towards you and how he tried to keep you away from his sight.

What is more amusing to Annatar is that you didn't discover his disguise.

So, he decided to reveal it to you.

"How sad that you don't remember your father, my sweet child"

You warn Celebrimbor about your father before handing him the rings he made for you and leaving.

Elrond

You knew Elrond since Maglor, brother of Maedhros, was the one fostered him and his twin brother, Elros.

So, seeing him after so many years surprised you and what made you feel shy is the fact that he invited you to stay with him at his realm.

You decided to take on his offer because you didn't want to keep on wandering in the middle earth after you did for many years.

Actually, you came to his realm after his wife decided to leave to the Undying Lands.

And Elrond is the only one who felt like he wanted to marry you but he decided not to act on it to not frighten you.

Especially after everything you told him about others 'locking you up' and 'refusing to let you leave'

Actually he witnessed how his foster Uncle treated you, so he understood where you are coming from.

"Do not worry, Nin meld, you are safe here with me, I promise to protect you from any danger."

[doodle-pops]

Foreign Hearts

Gil Galad x modern human!reader

A/N: At last, the final piece for the event of this year is out! I wanted to go out with a bang but I didn’t expect to write so much (ノ_･､). Enjoy!

Warnings:modern human reader, fluff, humour, modern reader in Middle Earth, relationship talk

Words: 3.7k

Synopsis: Reflecting on the secrecy of the love you’ve shared with the High King, turned into another romantic and heartwarming moment between you two.

The sun had just begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the serene landscape of Rivendell. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves. The melody of a distant waterfall filled the air, mingling with the song of birds that flitted through the trees. Rivendell was a place of peace, of beauty that seemed untouched by time, and it had become your sanctuary since that fateful day when you had mysteriously appeared in the forests nearby.

It had been months since you found yourself in Middle-earth, a place you had only known from the pages of books and the whispers of legends. One moment, you had been living your life in the modern world, surrounded by the familiar hum of technology and the bustle of city life; the next, you were wandering through a forest that seemed to belong to another time, another world entirely.

The elves who had found you, clad in their silver and green, had been as shocked by your appearance as you were by theirs. You were an anomaly, a puzzle they couldn’t quite piece together. Lord Elrond, the wise and kind ruler of Rivendell, had taken you in, offering you shelter and care as you adjusted to this strange new reality.

Living in Rivendell was like stepping into a dream—everything was so ethereal, so perfect, that you often had to pinch yourself to make sure it was real. Yet, despite the beauty around you, it was hard not to feel out of place. The elves, with their flowing robes, graceful movements, and ancient wisdom, seemed like beings from a different world altogether. Your modern speech, your casual mannerisms, even your sense of humour—things that had been perfectly normal back home—stood out starkly against the elegance of elven customs.

There were times when you caught the elves watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, their ageless faces betraying their thoughts more than they likely realised. You had tried, at first, to conform to their ways, to adopt their formal speech and graceful etiquette. But it was exhausting to maintain, and eventually, you had accepted that you were simply different. You were a visitor in their world, and while you respected their ways, you couldn’t entirely change who you were.

It was during one of these quiet, introspective days that you first met Gil-galad.

The High King of the Noldor had arrived in Rivendell on a visit to consult with his Herald, Lord Elrond. You had heard of him in passing—the Elven king who ruled over Lindon, a figure of great authority and wisdom. But you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming that someone of his stature would have little reason to notice someone like you.

You were wrong.

The meeting had been as unexpected as everything else in Middle-earth. You had been wandering through one of the many gardens of Rivendell, lost in thought, when you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself staring into the most striking pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall—taller than any of the other elves you had met—his presence commanding and regal, yet there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.

“Forgive me,” he had said, his voice smooth and deep, though the amused glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t at all displeased by the encounter.

You had stammered out an apology, feeling flustered and out of place in front of someone so imposing. But the King had only smiled, intrigued by your manner of speech—so different from the formal, melodic tones of the elves. His curiosity was piqued, and instead of continuing on his way, he had engaged you in conversation.

At first, you had been nervous, unsure of how to speak to someone of such high status. But as the conversation flowed, you found yourself relaxing. Gil-galad was different from what you had expected. He was charming and kind, with a sharp wit that matched your own. He seemed genuinely interested in your world, in your experiences, and you found yourself laughing and talking more freely than you had since you arrived in Middle-earth.

Over the course of his stay in Rivendell, you and the High King crossed paths often. Each encounter left you feeling a strange mixture of excitement and confusion. He was a King, after all, and you were… well, you weren’t even sure what you were anymore. Yet, there was no denying the connection that had begun to form between you. It was as though he saw past the strangeness of your situation and was drawn to the very things that made you different.

It was during one of these visits that he had gifted you the music box. A small, intricately carved thing made of mahogany, it played a melody that was hauntingly beautiful. You had been surprised, touched by the gesture, and from that moment on, the music box had become one of your most treasured possessions.

Now, as you sat on the stone bench in one of Rivendell’s many gardens, you found yourself once again lost in thought, the music box cradled in your hands. You had come here to find some peace, to escape the swirling thoughts and emotions that had been troubling you ever since your feelings for Gil-galad began to deepen.

The gardens were quiet, the air cool and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. The sun was low in the sky, casting a soft, golden light over everything. It was a perfect evening, the kind that made you forget, if only for a moment, that you were far from home.

“Does it not trouble you?”

The familiar, smooth voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked up to see Gil-galad approaching, his expression curious and gentle. He was dressed in his usual attire—garments of silver and royal blue, the colors of his house—his presence as commanding as ever. He sat down beside you on the bench, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, but not so close as to make you uncomfortable.

You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of your thoughts as you focused on him. But your gaze was drawn to his lips, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything else. His lips, curved into that familiar teasing smile, held your attention, and your thoughts muddled together into a jumble of emotions.

He noticed your gaze and, with a smirk, leaned closer, his voice laced with amusement. “Is there something on my face, or rather, my lips, my love?” he teased, drawing out the moment, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing intently on the music box in your hands. Your fingers traced the delicate carvings, desperate for something to distract you from the fluttering in your chest. “Your teasing is going to get you into trouble one day, My King,” you muttered, your voice a mix of shyness and annoyance—though the latter was directed more at yourself than at him.

Gil-galad’s expression softened as he leaned back slightly, giving you a bit more space. “How many times must I remind you? You may call me Ereinion,” he said gently, though there was a hint of playful reproach in his tone.

You kept your eyes on the music box, refusing to look up and meet his gaze. “Once more…I suppose,” you replied quietly.

Silence settled between you as he continued to watch you, his eyes tracing the movements of your hands and the way you muttered softly to yourself in a language he couldn’t fully understand. Your mother tongue, ancient and melodic, was a lexicon from a world and age far removed from his own. Yet, despite the differences, he found comfort in these moments, in simply observing you in your element, even when the words escaped him.

“You are unhappy, are you not?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with an undertone of certainty.

A smile tugged at your lips, as though his statement amused you, and for a brief moment, a crackle of energy filled the air, as if the very atmosphere responded to your unspoken thoughts. Setting the music box aside, you turned to face him, giving him the full weight of your attention. “Why would you come to such a conclusion, or rather, how?” you asked, disbelief coloring your tone. “I don’t recall ever giving the impression that I was.”

His expression softened, though there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes. “You do not address me by my name as lovers do,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that pained you to hear. “It is almost as if you were embarrassed or uninterested in being with me. Is it because of our secrecy?”

And as the question hung in the air between you, you realised that this was a moment of truth, a moment when the feelings you had been trying to ignore could no longer be denied.

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest like a heavy stone. Gil-galad’s expression, so often the picture of composed regality, was softened by the sadness in his eyes, a sadness that you had never intended to cause. But the truth, like the stone in your chest, was complicated and unyielding.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, warm and comforting as always. “Ereinion,” you began, the use of his name deliberate, a balm for the hurt you had unknowingly inflicted. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or uninterested in being with you. Far from it.”

He turned his hand over to grasp yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm. The simple gesture was comforting, grounding you in the moment as you searched for the right words. Words that would explain what you felt without causing him more pain.

“You have to understand,” you continued, your voice soft but steady, “I’m a human, Ereinion. A mortal. And that means…well, it means that I’m different from the people you’ve ruled and loved for centuries. I’ve seen how some of the elves speak about humans—like we’re nothing more than a fleeting thought in their minds. I know that not all of them feel that way, but enough do that it will make our relationship…complicated.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, simply listening as you voiced the thoughts you had kept buried for so long.

“You’re their High King, their leader, and their symbol of everything that is strong and eternal about the Eldar. And if they knew that you had chosen a human, someone who will live for only a blink of an eye compared to their long lives, to stand by your side…” You trailed off, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t think they would accept it. Not easily, anyway.”

He started to speak, but you held up your hand, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s not just that, Ereinion. It’s also…well, I’m happy with things the way they are. Keeping our relationship a secret, it means I don’t have to deal with the expectations and judgments that would come if I were known as your chosen one. It’s a relief, honestly.”

You shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath you as you gathered your thoughts. “When I first arrived in Middle-earth—when I was suddenly…here—I was lost. Confused. I didn’t understand your world or its customs. And despite the kindness I’ve been shown, especially by Lord Elrond, I still struggle with it. I’m not like the others. My behaviour, my speech, even the way I think, it’s all…different. I’ve spent over a year in Rivendell, learning and adapting as best I can, but there are times when I still feel like an outsider, like I don’t quite belong.”

The grip he held on your hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he understood. His eyes, so often filled with the weight of his responsibilities, now held only concern for you, his secret love.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” you added quickly, seeing the flicker of guilt cross his features. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m grateful that we can keep our relationship private. It means I don’t have to deal with the pressure of being a ruler, of trying to prove my worth to people who might never accept me. I’ve heard how some of the elves speak of humans—how we’re seen as lesser, as irrelevant. I’ve witnessed the way they look down on us, dismiss us.”

You paused, meeting his gaze with a steady look. “There’s no way they would accept me as their leader. And that’s okay. I don’t need them to. I’m happy with my freedom, with not having to live up to impossible expectations or navigate the treacherous waters of court politics and finding myself crying in a corner every day of the week, anxiously. I’m content being your secret lover, someone who can love you without the weight of a crown on my head.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making his expression softened further, the sadness giving way to a deep, abiding affection. “You are remarkable,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that made your heart skip a beat. “To find contentment in such circumstances…it’s not something many could do.”

You chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension that had built between you. “Well, I’ve always been one to adapt, but not this time. Maybe if it was another human instead of me, they might enjoy the idea of being a royal more than the problems it bring,” you teased lightly. “Besides, I’ve never been one for grand titles or public adoration. I prefer the quiet moments, like this one, where I can just be myself with you.”

He nodded, a small, grateful smile crossing his lips. “It’s those quiet moments that I cherish most as well,” he admitted. “In all my years, with all the burdens of leadership, it’s rare to find someone who sees me not as the High King, but as Ereinion—just an elf who loves and is loved in return.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “And that’s exactly how I see you,” you said softly. “I fell in love with you, not for your title or your power, but for who you are—the elf who listens to my ramblings, who teases me when I’m being too serious, who finds joy in the small things.”

The weight of your conversation still hung in the air, but with it came a sense of relief—a feeling that you had finally voiced the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for so long. Gil-galad’s expression had softened, his eyes still holding that deep affection, but now there was an understanding between you that hadn’t existed before.

You broke the silence first, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned back on the bench, your fingers still intertwined with his. “You know,” you began, your tone lightening, “I never imagined when I first ended up in Middle-earth that I’d be sitting here with the High King of the Elves, having a heart-to-heart in a secret garden.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a deep, warm rumble that you felt as much as heard. “And I never imagined that I’d fall in love with a human from a world I’ve never even heard of,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, a laugh escaping your lips as you thought back to the strange journey that had brought you here. “That’s an understatement. I mean, one day I’m sitting in my apartment, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’m in Rivendell, surrounded by elves and trying to figure out how not to embarrass myself with every other word I say.”

Gil-galad’s smile widened, and he leaned back beside you, the tension between you dissipating like morning mist. “I remember the first time I heard you speak,” he mused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were trying to explain the concept of a ‘microwave’ to Elrond, and he looked as though he was trying to decipher an ancient riddle.”

You groaned, your cheeks heating at the memory. “Oh, don’t remind me. I must have sounded like a complete lunatic. I’m still not sure he believes that microwaves aren’t some kind of magic.”

“Well,” Gil-galad said, his tone mock-serious, “you have to admit, it does sound rather magical. A box that cooks food in mere moments? Even I have trouble wrapping my head around it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep the grin off your face. “It’s just science,” you replied with a playful nudge. “But then again, in a world where magic is real, I suppose science might seem a little…mystical.”

He chuckled again, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said, his voice warm. “You bring a perspective that’s entirely different from anything I’ve known. You see the world in a way that none of us do, and it’s…refreshing.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So what you’re saying is, you fell for me because I’m weird?”

He laughed, the sound full and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in. “Well, if by ‘weird,’ you mean unique, then yes,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And besides, I think you’re the only person who can make me laugh like this.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, so I’m your court jester now? Should I start juggling or learn to ride a unicycle?”

Shaking his head, his laughter fading into a soft smile. “No, you’re much more than that. But if you do learn to juggle, I’m sure we could arrange a performance at the next feast.”

You playfully swatted his arm, your heart feeling lighter with each moment you spent in his company. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Only with you, my love.”

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve to keep things light slipping away under the intensity of his gaze. But before you could lose yourself in the moment, you caught yourself and leaned back, a smirk on your lips as you tried to regain the upper hand.

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing, “if this is your way of convincing me to move in with you, you’re going to have to try harder. I’ve grown rather fond of my little room in Rivendell, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my bach pad just yet.”

His brow raised and lips quirking into a smile. “Oh? And what would it take to tempt you away from your ‘bach pad,’ as you call it? A private suite in the palace? Endless bouquets of flowers delivered daily? A personal chef to prepare all your meals?”

You pretended to consider his offer, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, those are all tempting…but I’m not sure. I mean, who’s going to teach Elrond about the wonders of modern technology if I’m not around?”

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. “You make a good point. I’m not sure he’s ready to tackle the mysteries of the ‘microwave’ on his own.”

“I don’t think he’s even ready for to learn about the internet or the blender. However, he did take learning the TV, fairly,” you laughed.

“When you do, inform me for I would be interested in witnessing his utter confusion,” he replied with equal merriment.

You grinned, pleased with your little victory, but before you could bask in it for too long, Gil-galad leaned in once more, his expression suddenly serious. “But in all seriousness,” he said, his voice gentle, “I want you to know that wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Whether it’s in Rivendell, here in my palace, or anywhere else…as long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for what to say. You had always known that he cared for you deeply, but hearing it spoken aloud, in such a simple, heartfelt way, made your chest tighten with emotion.

After a beat, you managed a smile, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And as much as I joke about it…I know that wherever you are, I’ll always feel at home.”

His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then that’s all I need,” he said quietly.

The moment stretched out between you, filled with a warmth and understanding that words couldn’t fully capture. It was in the way he looked at you, the way his hand fit perfectly around yours, the way the world seemed to fall away when you were together. Here, in that garden, under the stars of a world you never expected to call home, you found something you never knew you were searching for.

But even as you basked in the comfort of the moment, a flicker of mischief returned to your eyes. “But just so you know,” you added with a grin, “if you ever try to get me to wear one of those elaborate court attires, we might have a problem.”

Launching into another round of laughter, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, he shook his head. “Noted,” he said, his eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have to say, I think you’d look stunning.”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Majesty. I prefer my sweatpants and t-shirts, thank you very much.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “And that’s exactly how I like you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart grown warmer.

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[ironmandeficiency]

the fellowship + romance

characters included: aragorn, boromir, gimli, legolas, pippin

word count: 1177

summary: just some soft shit bc these men are all sappier than any tree in the greenwood

a/n: there’s still an overwhelming lack of gimli content that needs to be fixed and i will do my part

aragorn 🗡️

aragorn’s quiet presence is the warmest blanket on a cold night, the first bite of a meal you slaved over for hours, every comfort you’ve ever experienced

he’s never been one for overwhelming displays of his affections; instead, he shows you in simple ways that add up - giving you the more full bowls of broth, laying his blanket over you if he notices you shivering during night watch, sharpening your weapons (this one had gimli nearly brought to tears by the devotion it spoke of), anything that helps your days pass easier

he grew up around stories of elves who committed astounding feats in the name of those they loved, fighting wars and risking their lives with alarming frequency. but none of them ever talked about the everyday ways they showed love. his mother taught him what she could about those things, stories of his father’s steady presence and stalwart love for his family. a young aragorn took these lessons to heart and used them when the time was right

it was why, when he caught his heart skipping beats around you, he let his actions do the speaking for him. without fail you would thank him with a soft smile, slowly coming to realize that aragorn felt something much deeper for you than camaraderie. when you woke up early one morning to find your weapons sharper than they were the day before (not for the first time), you went straight to aragorn and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. he nearly dropped your bowl of stew in his flustered state

having your affections secured didn’t mean he stopped his small acts of kindness, it did quite the opposite. it just made him bolder and more confident in his actions

boromir 🍻

this man is so damn tactile it’s ridiculous

if you’re the cuddly type like he is, it makes him all the more eager to always have some form of physical contact with you, no matter where you may be

unless you tell him to back off, he is always touching you one way or another. a gentle hand on the small of your back, your pinkies interlocked, an arm wrapped around your shoulder, anything to keep you close to him

his favorite time of day eventually becomes the end of it, because that’s when he can hold you close and whisper soft words of love in your ear while he holds you. he makes it his goal to give you a goodnight kiss every night you spend together

the best cuddle position in his mind is you leaning your back against his chest, one of his hands resting on your hip where his thumb rubs small circles above the bone, and his chin resting on your shoulder just right to where he can turn his head to kiss your cheek or burrow his face into your neck

gimli 🛡️

valiantly is the best way to describe how gimli approaches any situation he comes upon, including (and especially) matters of the heart

this is a dwarf who says what he means & means what he says, who does nothing that he wouldn’t be proud of the next day. because of this, you couldn’t find it in you to not believe him when he professed his love for you with such unwavering confidence you were nearly brought to tears. gimli never said anything just because his lips could move so you simply had to believe him

will do you favors big and small simply because he wants to help you however possible. you can’t remember the last time you carried your own pack or made your own bowl of soup. if you encouraged him (which you wouldn’t), this romantic fool would not let you lift another finger for as long as you both live

he grew up watching his parents with keen eyes, his adad showing him by example how a true dwarf treats their one. he embodies these lessons with every interaction with you, striving to be the one you deserve him to be. it ranges from the ferocity of his protection to opening doors for you. may mahal strike him down if he ever hurts you

he just wants to be a dwarf you’re proud to love, proud to call yours

legolas 🏹

physical affection can be difficult for him, but one thing legolas is good at doing is speaking his mind and his heart

if you thought his regular speaking pattern was overflowing with poetic descriptors, you’ve heard nothing compared to when he’s being truly romantic. no one you’d been with before had ever described you with such beautiful prose, never whispered soft poetry about your eyes to lull you to sleep

and he’s a cheeky bastard about it too! it’ll be a regular conversation between friends, nothing important, then BAM! he’s making quippy one-liners about your overwhelming skill/beauty/personality that catch you off guard and has your friends cackling at your flustered reaction to his flattery

even better, his praise will often include sindarin and on the off chance you don’t speak it, you’ll have to gauge the meaning from the silent looks shared between your dear elf and aragorn (doesn’t really work). eventually legolas tells you what some of them mean; after all, he needs to have an element of intrigue about him or his name isn’t legolas thranduillion

he carries a lot of pride for you and will brag about you to anyone who listens, his melleth being one of unparalleled skill and beauty and bright laughter that carries his soul on great wings

pippin 🥕

his already strong need to be silly and foolish grows exponentially when he finds out how happy it makes you

pip doesn’t care what it is you ask of him, he will do anything to hear your laugh. he’ll put baby carrots in his nostrils, respond to conversations exclusively in farm animal noises, he will even do his spot-on impressions of the rest of the fellowship and make them say all sorts of silly things

the best one to date is him doing an aragorn impression that consists of all the different ways he says legolas’s name

you’ve never heard such astounding colloquialisms from anyone until you met pippin - “don’t eat half the berries and say the pie shell’s too big,” “his cornbread isn’t done in the middle,” “if brains were leather, he wouldn't have enough to saddle a junebug” - and each time he says one, there’s always a not-so-subtle look to you so he can see your reaction. the ones that get the most laughs are used a little bit more, just enough to not lose their appeal but enough to hear your laughter all the more often

there is a single-minded determination to hear your snort when you laugh at something he says, and he will not rest until you do. his personal goal to do this resets each time you do actually snort, him now aiming for the next joke or prank that will bring it out again

[frodo-with-glasses]

For Movie Moment Mondays: Strider just chucking an apple at Pippin’s head. I like to imagine he threw one nice and high for Merry to catch and very intentionally hit Pippin in the head with the second one.

RIP Pippin

MOVIE MOMENT MONDAYS!

[secretagentsociety]

lotr character react to you giving them flower

Lotr character react to you giving them a flower which in your land meant ily but just gandalf knows it

legolas

• oh he will accept it with open heart

• it could honestly be any flowers even some that are considered a weed as long as it is from you he'll love and cherish it nonetheless

• let's say you gave the flower to him when you're alone with him,atleast you thought you're alone with him oh but you really aren't alone with him bcuz somehow good ol gandalf is there

• and gandalf gave you the stare

• when he finds out what it actually meant oh he'll love the flower even more may even give you a flower himself

Aragorn

• he'll be confused by it but he's not so oblivious to the meaning of it,he knew it meant some sort of effection he just doesn't know the extend of it

• he'll tuck the flower in between his belt to show off,when gandalf told him about it and how your people only gave flowers to those you feel strongly about he'll feel a tad bit guilty for not taking care of the flower more

• he doesn't give you a flower but he gave you something of his culture that have the same meaning

Frodo

• will fiddle with it while he stared off and even chewed on the stem of it depending on the flower type

• will he feel guilty once he find out?oh yes he'll find another flower to give you while apologising and he'll look awkward doing so

• you'll have to tell him it's alright or else he'll be very very very upset on himself that partnered with the ring having constantly finding a way to plague his mind is not a good combination

Sam

• he'll BLUSH,lover boy over here would put the flower in a safe area inside the backpack somewhere

•when he loses the backpack in mordor he'll feel guilty abt it

• and when gandalf told him abt the meaning he'll feel even more guilty, Honestly he'll make it up by almost plucking his garden dry of flowers just to apologize

Merry

• will wear it as an ornament somewhere in his body

• may or may not show off to pippin and be like "look i got a flower, where's your flower?oh ya got none?too bad"

• oh when gandalf overheard their little banter he'll come over and be all "oh you're a lucky one merry giving people flowers meant a great deal to y/n's people"

• yes he will show it off even harder now idk how but he will somehow

Pippin

• he will be delighted to receive a flower from you and will hold it in his hands (yes he hold one flower with two hands) while staring at it lovingly

• once gandalf told him abt it i kid you not he will 100% eat it no excuses what type of flower it is he's not a coward he WILL eat the flower

• and he will feel no remorse,his reasoning? "Now your love will forever be bound to me!" He'd say with a cheery voice

• you :"so if i gave you a wooden carving you'll eat it too?" Him : "is it made of acorn wood?"

• for clarifications yes,yes he will eat it too,there is no running from this,he will NOM.

[cilil]

Ok, listen… what about Mairon taking dick for the first time…

I would prefer if the reader is gentle at first, but then Mairon demands him to go faster. The reader is a soft dom, but doesn’t talk too much during sex. (Bonus if he has a big dick)

If you’re uncomfortable doing this, I completely understand. No pressure :)

AN: Thank you for the prompt and apologies it took so long. I took some time to give this some thought because I wanted to (hopefully) make it good and when I was finally inspired I had to put the fic aside after a third or so due to exams. I hope you enjoy my take on this :)

Pairing: Mairon x male!reader (2nd person POV) Synopsis: Mairon has recently taken you as his lover and now has an unusual request - he wants you to take him Featuring: Soft dom/service top reader, pushy bottom Mairon, first time bottoming, sex toys (briefly), fingering, anal sex Warning(s): Smut, explicit Oneshot (~1.65k words)

"Are you sure you want to try this?" 

You look at him quizzically, resting next to him on his luxurious divan, propped up on your forearm. 

"Of course I am." Mairon smiles. His lilting, chuckling tone suggests that he finds your concern amusing. "Have you no faith in the strength and capability of my fána?" 

"I do," you reply without hesitation. It's the truth, you know well how powerful he is, yet when you look at his elegant, slender figure, you can't help thinking how awful it would feel to accidentally hurt him. 

Mairon traces the rim of the goblet of wine he's been holding with his index finger. Your eyes follow the movement. 

"I know what I want and how I want it," he says in a low voice. "So when I ask you to take me, I mean it." 

You nod. Your mouth suddenly feels dry and your tongue too clumsy to respond, but it's prickling excitement rather than paralysing fear or any other unpleasant emotion. The thought, now that you allow it to unfold in your mind, is tempting. 

"Will you do as I ask then?" 

You nod again. Of course you will. And you will do your best to ensure that he isn't displeased with you. 

"Good." Mairon leans forward to peck your lips, then pushes his goblet into your hand — a silent order. Dutifully, you take it and roll over to deposit it on the nearest table. 

You hear the sound of fabric. When you turn back around, he has already undone the sash holding his satin robes in place and is in the process of undressing himself. No need for frivolous pleasantries, no waste of time. 

Mairon leans on his forearms and lets his head fall back. In the flickering, warm light coming from the fireplace his skin looks like it's made of pure gold, as if he himself was a marvellous piece of art rather than a living, breathing being, and you take a moment to simply admire him. 

In spite of him not facing you, you feel his gaze on you. Maybe he placed his third eye in the fireplace or a candle flame somewhere, you can never be quite sure. 

"Well? Are you going to sit there and stare or..." Mairon trails off, spreading his legs invitingly. 

He has a way of maintaining control even when he puts himself in positions others might consider submissive. 

You clear your throat in an attempt to regain your ability to speak. "Do you have any oil on you? I need–" 

"Left pocket," he cuts you off. 

Bowing your head, you move to sit between his legs and search his half-discarded robe as you've been told. Indeed, there is a tiny flask of oil in his pocket, but when you bend down and push his legs back, you discover a fine ruby between his cheeks, decorating the end of what you presume to be a toy stuck inside him. 

"I did some preparations on my own," Mairon comments on your discovery. His voice is calm and casual, as if you were discussing minor business or idle gossip instead of sex toys. 

"I'll just make sure you're comfortable, if that's alright," you mumble in response. 

He lets you. When you pull out the toy, you notice that he's as tight as you suspected, but relaxed and well-oiled. Dutifully, you pour a little more oil on two fingers and push inside, finding little resistance. Still, he could use more stretching if he's going to take your cock. 

Mairon watches you, only letting out tiny noises of enjoyment as you go deeper and start scissoring him. You pay attention to the movements of his muscles and the way he clenches and unclenches around you, mindful of any tension you feel. Despite his inexperience with receiving his partner, his control over his fána is impeccable. 

"I should perhaps remind you that I am no fragile incarnate," Mairon says after a few minutes. 

"Sorry. It's just... you see..." You bite your lip and blush. The truth is that you are rather well endowed, something you have become aware of after past experiences and learned to pay attention to with your partners. 

"See what?" Mairon smirks. "Why not show me?" 

You get the feeling that he knows. Maybe it's precisely the reason he chose you as one of his lovers. Nevertheless, you obediently proceed to take off your clothes. Your cock is already hardening, reacting to the delightful sensation of your fingers knuckle-deep inside a gorgeous Maia. 

Mairon stares shamelessly. You even believe to see greed flaring up in his golden eyes. 

"Sorry if–" 

"I want it like that." He spreads his legs wider. "Now give it to me, precious." 

"Y-yes." 

You take a moment to breathe, yet don't dare delay any longer; not only because it's an order, but also because you are eager to do exactly what he's asking for. 

The first thing you feel is heat. For a moment you fear Mairon could burn you, but there is no pain. You begin to feel as though it could be pleasant once you adjust to it. 

"Go on." 

You nod. The second thing you feel is how tight he is, despite your best efforts, though it doesn't seem to cause him any discomfort. Mairon keeps his eyes on you when you push deeper, half-lidded and glowing with simmering pleasure. His lips part ever so slightly, but he makes no sound; you haven't earned it yet, you know. 

Wishing to please your lover, you kiss him instead — a promise, perhaps mixed with an apology. Mairon is not impossible to please, but not easily either. 

He wraps his legs around you and allows himself to sink into his pillows. What he wants is clear, and you don't even need the gentle pressure of his heel against your back to spur you on, though the gesture is welcome. When you lean forward, get on top of him, place your arms at his sides and sink both with and into him, you truly feel it. You are fucking this beautiful creature, and he wants you. The thought is exhilarating, maddening. Your hips begin to move before you know it. 

Mairon's eyelids flutter, and you observe him well, even as you give in to your growing desire. He's content with slow, careful thrusts for a while, enjoying the feeling of your cock filling him again and again, then he speaks up.

"Harder," he commands, "faster." 

You nod. You are no longer at a point where you have the focus or patience to ask if he's sure, and neither does he, you can sense it. Obediently, you increase the speed and vigour of your movements and marvel at how well he takes you, how good he feels, how hot and beautiful and perfect he is. Being taken by you for the first time doesn't prevent Mairon from performing well in his new role, from being as admirable as ever. 

He wraps his legs around you more tightly, pulling you in. You understand — deeper. Shifting your weight onto your knees, you reach for his hips and thighs, angle them to go deeper. Part of you briefly worries that it might cause discomfort, then you hear Mairon moan, long and indulgent. It encourages you to keep holding on to him like this and thrust as hard, fast and deep as you can. 

You intend to keep doing so even if your hips give out. The tight heat of his fána ever tempts you, burning away any exhaustion you may have felt. 

The greater challenge is to last. You wonder, for a second or so, if you are allowed to spill inside, but Mairon hasn't told you otherwise and says nothing whenever your cock twitches inside him — and you know he feels it, you can see him smile and hear him moan whenever it does. Proud and pleased with himself. Even his arrogance is sexy. 

The thought of filling him with your seed as you do with your cock pleases you. He is yours, for a few precious moments at least. But you know Mairon wants this to last, wants to enjoy himself thoroughly. He expects you to give him your best, like he has done for you; even if perfection seems almost effortless on him. 

You do your best to hold on. Focus on the flow of your movements instead of his voice, instead of the maddening pleasure, instead of him. You give it your all, and it works for a time, until exhaustion erodes your barriers and lust floods all your senses and you come with a small grunt. It feels as though Mairon clenches around you with feverish greed, taking all you have, not relenting before you have given it to him. 

Only then his fána lets you go. 

You sit back on your heels and attempt to catch your breath, lest you collapse on top of him like a stag with an arrow in its chest. 

Mairon has closed his eyes for a moment, looking almost peaceful. You see pearly droplets glistening all over his stomach; not even he managed to escape your climax and came with you. Pride makes your chest swell — you succeeded. You pleased him. 

His legs release your hips and drop to the bed. He keeps them spread, allowing you to watch as seed trickles out of him.

"Well done, precious," he purrs. "You may now leave."

"Shouldn't I take care of you first?" you ask. 

"My attendants will see to it." 

You bow your head, accepting his decision. Perhaps, you muse, his decision to let you take him was a first step, a sign of trust, and you will be allowed to care for him and spend the night if he has need for you again in the future. 

Perhaps it wouldn't be entirely foolish to look forward to it. 

 ˚ ੈ✧̣̇·˖ 　˚ .　　　✶ ˚　　✦　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　.  ˚　

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist:

@angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @uruk-thighs @bluezenzennie @destinyeternity1

@edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human

@numenhore @sauron-kraut @urwendii @wandererindreams

[justalittlehoneybee]

The casting for the company in The Hobbit is phenomenal

Graham McTavish (Dwalin) hitting the gym as soon as he got the part

Jed Brophy (Nori) trying to steal as much stuff on set as he can and Mark Hadlow (Dori) telling him to put it back

Mark Hadlow (Dori) texting Adam Brown (Ori) “Are you okay?” and mothering him all the time

Aidan Turner (Kili) and Dean O’Gorman (Fili) being the trouble makers on set and teasing all the other dwarves

Stephen Hunter (Bombur) constantly snacking on set

James Nesbit (Bofur) and his Irish humor

Richard Armitage (Thorin) constantly feeling the pressure of his role and responsibilities

[heart-select]

i called them deluloodles (also, if u write x readers with a passion, ily, thank u i owe u a portion of my life will)

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hello, lovely ♡ I know you just did some Thranduil smut, but I have a request for more (always more). Could I request where the female (human) reader has a snowball fight with Thranduil and it soon becomes steamy and he gives it to her up against a tree in the middle of the forest? Thank you, dear. Love your writings. You are so talented ♡

Ask and you shall receive!

Of snowball fights and other pleasures

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Noblewoman from Dale)

Word count: 3.2K

Themes : Smut | Soft

Summary: Thranduil has been wanting you for a while now, but he keeps to himself thinking you and Legolas have something going on. What happens when he finds out that is not the case, and you have no attachement to anyone?

Warnings: Kissing | Penetrative / Rough sex | Sex out in the open | Fingering (fem. receiving) | Nicknames | Age Difference | First time (fem.)

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here 

If you like this, please consider giving it a reblog. Thank you! 

There were many rules in Thranduil's life.

They all circled around etiquette, custom, and tradition; they helped govern the elves of Mirkwood. Of these rules, many were written, some unwritten, and one such unwritten rule went along the lines of, "Thou shall not covet thy son's best friend."

You were Legolas' best friend, one he made while on a trip to Dale, and yet, Thranduil desired you. He desired you from the moment he first saw you. Thranduil thought it wholly inappropriate, as he truly believed Legolas himself desired you, and he held his tongue out of respect for both his son and you. 

Alas, that was not the case, not for you, at any rate. Legolas did not harbour the feelings his father thought he had. "Eru help me," Legolas said jovially over dinner one night, "But you're such a jolly sport."

And that was all you were, Eru help you. You were a jolly sport, a good listener, his partner in crime, the sister he always wanted, and nothing beyond that. You knew it was hopeless, that Legolas never saw you as anything but a jolly sport, and would never see you as anything but a jolly sport. Even if you bonked him on the head with a large sign that said 'I want you,' he would still see you only as a friend. Oh well, you reason, you might as well accept it.

You sighed and toyed with your food. Roast duck in honeyed wine, and cooked to absolute perfection. It was too delicious to pass up, but right now, you were simply not in the mood for it. You looked around and watched the elves talking, laughing, and singing before your gaze turned to the dais. The Elvenking was there, resplendent in ice blue velvet and cloth of silver. He had been wearing his winter crown, one made to look like icicle shards and snowflakes. Never in your life had you seen a creature more magnificent, and your breath hitched in your throat.

That hitched breath turned to a soft hum when the king turned his attention to you. Thranduil held your gaze for the longest possible time, his eyes darkening in such a way that it made your skin warm and your cheeks flush. You swallowed and managed a smile. Thranduil kept his eyes locked on yours before an aide called for his attention and he had to look away.

You blink once, then twice. What was that? You thought. Why did he look at you like that, making you feel all warm and feverish? And Eru help you, why did you enjoy it so?

Your stomach growled, and the duck finally appealed to your senses. You set yourself the pleasurable task of finishing every crumb. Legolas excused himself to talk to some others and Thranduil? Well, Thranduil excused himself as well, making his way to your table. "Y/n," he kept his tone perfectly neutral, his face a hard-to-read mask. "I see we have not driven you away with our rowdy behavior."

You looked to one table, where a drinking contest had commenced. At another table, elves gathered around a pair that had been arm wrestling. "I've seen all of this and more back at Dale," you grinned when Gimli, who had also come to visit, demanded a rematch with Legolas in some contest or another. "You're not going to scare me off that easily."

Thranduil smirked and sat opposite you. He kept his attention on his lap, to stop himself from staring at you. "And how goes your friendship with Legolas?" he asked with all the airs of innocent curiosity. "I only ask because the two of you have gotten close over the past few moons."

Ah yes. Legolas. "I'm just a jolly sport to Legolas," you mutter, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Pardon?"

"A jolly sport," you murmured. "A good ear. His partner in crime. The sister he always wanted--"

"And nothing beyond that?" Thranduil swallowed as hope stirred in his heart. Yes, there was hope, and wanting, and lust as well, something that peaked when he caught you licking honeyed wine off the pads of your fingers. Visions of his lips skimming over your fingers flashed before his eyes.

You said nothing and studied him. What was that flashing in his eyes? Why did it make you all warm and feverish again, and make you yearn for more? "And nothing beyond that," you said, your stomach tying itself in knots when you caught Thranduil's eyes darkening once more. There was a sound at the back of your throat, something between a hum and a sigh. Oh, to have him look at you like that all the time, like he wanted to eat you up.

"But maybe it's for the best," you coughed, clearing your throat. You were imagining things, you were sure of it. Thranduil was the Elvenking, there was no way he felt anything for you. No. Nothing at all.

"Perhaps," Thranduil mused as he drummed his fingers against the table. "But is there anyone else who has caught your interest? Anyone at all?"

"Planning on introducing me to anyone?" You teased, but your stomach knotted up again when jealousy flashed harsh and bright in his sky-blue eyes. 

Thranduil fought for composure. Here he was, a survivor of Doriath and king of the woodland realm, caving into jealousy like an elf barely into adulthood. "If you wish," every word was a trial for him. "I will be glad to introduce you, and recommend you."

But you won't be happy about it, you reasoned. In fact, Thranduil looked like he wanted to murder the ellon who caught your attention. You bit your lip in an effort not to laugh. "But there isn't anyone interested in me, more's the pity," you say, your eyes not missing the relief in his. 

Thranduil, awash with a sense of relief he never knew possible, found himself blurting, "Actually, yes, there is. Someone who thinks about you all the time."

Like me.

Thranduil thought he only said it in his mind, but the words rolled off his lips in a whisper. You couldn't make out what he said, and you leaned in, asking, "My lord?"

The king quickly shook his head and cleared his throat, his cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. How did that just come out? He swallowed, his eyes darting everywhere, hoping no one heard or thought of questioning him. "Nothing. Truly nothing." he quickly rose. "I... Erm... Please do excuse me, y/n, a pressing matter needs my attention."

Before you could say another word, Thranduil turned sharply on his heel, his heart thrilling by what he heard. Legolas only saw you as a friend, nothing more. You were free of any attachment to his son.

By the time he reached his chambers, Thranduil realized he was grinning like a giddy teenager. He then called a soldier to him, and sent him off with a message.

..................

It had snowed that night, and the entire world was covered in a beautiful blanket of white the next morning.

You went out, fully clothed in a thick cloak to keep the cold at bay. Legolas had gone off to Dale with Gimli, and you were left to your own devices. When you reached the gardens, you found Thranduil already there, walking and taking in the wintery scenes. "Good morrow," you dipped out of respect. "My lord." 

Thranduil swallowed and tried to bring his racing pulse to an even keel. "Good morrow, y/n."

He quickly turned away and headed towards the path leading into the forest. "And how was last night? Did you sleep comfortably?"

Something compelled you to follow him. "Very comfortably, thank you. I've never slept so well in my life."

Thranduil smiled and kept walking. You kept following, your eyes taking in the wonderful stillness that enveloped the forest, your ears tingling from the sound of snow crunching beneath your feet. "I was concerned, you see," he said, as the two of you continued walking. "Not everyone likes sleeping within a cave system."

"But it's beautiful, my lord," you said, surprised he would think you'd be put off by his home. In truth, the halls were more splendid than the palace of Dale, and you actually grew up within the palace. "Why would anyone not like it?"

Thranduil turned to you, to make sure you were not lying. One look convinced him that you weren't. "It pleases me to hear you say it..."

You felt a sense of mischief growing as you took in all that pristine snow. Thranduil was a few paces ahead of you, oblivious to what was going on behind him. Just once, you thought as you quickly dipped to your knees. Just a teensy bit of fun.

"The dwarves adore it, of course," Thranduil didn't hear you pick up a handful of snow and press it into a ball. "But some mortals... Alas..."

Thump.

A snowball exploded neatly over his cloak. Thranduil stopped and turned. Another snowball hit him square in the chest with another soft thump.

"Y/n," Thranduil took a deep breath and dusted bits of snow that clung to his clothes. "What are you..."

This time, the snowball hit him on the chin, exploding in a wet spray of icy particles. Thranduil looked at you, taking in your grin, the challenge in your eyes. Overcome with a sense of playfulness himself, he tsked before picking up a ball of snow. Before you could think or even blink, a ball of blinding white hit you right in the chest. When he dipped to make another projectile, you picked up your skirts and ran off into the forest, shouting, "You'll have to catch me first!"

The challenge was like music to Thranduil's ears.

You ran and ran, giggling like anything. Thranduil could never catch up with you. Why, you already had a head start on him. And you were certain he couldn't find you, at least not for a while .So confident were you in your own success that you didn't see or even hear Thranduil until he was right behind you, whirling you around and pushing you up against a tree. 

"Hitting me with snowy projectiles?" Thranduil said gleefully as he pinned you against the tree. "And while my back was turned? Very unsportsmanlike, yes?"

Oh, how you giggled beneath him. "B-but it's such fun th-that way."

Thranduil tsked again, this time to disguise the fact that being this close to you was making his body strain against his clothes. "There will be a price to pay for this, you know," he mumbled huskily.

You narrowed your eyes even as your lips quirked upward. "A price, you say."

The heat radiating from his body started to do strange things to yours. You felt warm and feverish again, this time from his being so close to you. You wanted to reach out and touch him, to have his unrestrained self open up to you. And as much as you thought you liked him, you realized you felt nothing like this with Legolas, nothing that made you feel like your blood was heating with need. 

Perhaps it wasn't Legolas you were destined for after all. "And what will that price be, my lord?"

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, as wanting slowly hammered at his restraint. He had asked for a price. A price you seemed to be willing to pay. How much were you willing to pay? "Whatever I want, y/n."

You swallowed and looked up at him, at those beautiful blue eyes that had grown dark with need. When you ran your tongue over your lips, you heard him groan. "And," you asked, as heat pooled in your belly. "What do you want?"

Thranduil dipped his head, his lips just above the rim of your ear. "You," he whispered. Hot breath fanning over your ear made you close your eyes and whimper, made goosebumps rise all over your skin. "I want you."

You swallowed as he pressed up against you, his body flush against yours. His hands let go of your arms and sneaked up your waist; his lips skimmed over your ear. A sound rose from the back of your throat, something that felt like a purr. Warmth and wanting washed over you again, and you grabbed onto Thranduil's collar, saying, "And you shall have me, however you wish to have me."

Thranduil pulled back, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with passion. On the next intake of breath, his lips crushed yours. 

You were pulled into a darkened tunnel of desire. Thranduil's kisses were deep, drugging you senseless. His tongue, all warm and luscious and sinful, licked and probed its way into the warmth of your mouth. You purred helplessly, your arms looping around his neck. Your body was already throbbing and aching, arousal was dripping down your thighs, and he had just started kissing you.

Thranduil was filled with greedy impatience. On any other day, he would have been slow and languorous, worshipping your body with his very breath, but today he was just overcome with the need to take. He hiked up your skirts, pulling them up to your waist. A hand callused by centuries of hunting and fighting ripped apart your underwear and cupped you between your thighs. When skilled fingers played with your already slick heat, you jolted. "Already wet for me, I see," Thranduil crooned, delighting in your little whimpers, your little noises. He slipped a finger in, moaning into your mouth as he felt your walls clench around it. He took a step back and watched as your eyes almost rolled back and your mouth opened in a half-moan. Your body trembled and trembled when a second finger joined the first, curling gently inside your warmth, making your body arch beautifully against his whenever they struck that place that could only give a woman the type of pleasure she had never felt before. He felt resistance as he pushed deeper, and his body hardened even more. He was going to be your first. And how he hoped he could be your only.

And it wasn't enough. Not for you, and not for him. Thranduil pulled out and your cheeks bloomed with heat when each of those slickened fingers slowly disappeared into his mouth, only to pop out with a soft plop. "Delicious," he crooned again.

"But will that be all?" you muttered breathily, challenging him to give you more.

Thranduil growled. "Oh, there will be more, my petal," he hissed, and his lips opened over yours again. The sweetness of his kiss washed down your throat, leaving you breathless and lightheaded. You reached out to the buckle of his belt, unclasping it and loosening his breeches. Thranduil pressed himself flush against you, caging you to the tree as you reached in and wrapped your hands over his cock. 

The feeling of you pumping his length well and truly undid him. "Fuck," he swore and bit down on your lower lip, leaving it slightly sore and bruised. He kept still, his head thrown back, his breath coming out in shuddering pants as you stroked his cock. You found a rhythm he liked, your hands tightening and releasing, a perverse feeling drowning you as you took him to the brink and threatened to take him over that. What would it feel like, to have him pour over your hands?

But that was not what Thranduil desired. Oh no. Thranduil was hungry for much more than that. "Jump," he ordered, his arms hooking tightly around your waist.

When he lifted you in one swift move, you hooked your legs around his hips, your arms gripping tightly around his shoulders. Thranduil didn't even feel the strain. An ellon such as he was able to bear so much more, and you felt like a feather to him. "Do you want this?" he breathed as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your hole. "Tell me, petal, do you want this? For me to claim your maidenhead?"

You swallowed and looked into a pair of soulful eyes. "There'd be no going back from this," you say hesitantly.

"There won't," Thranduil agreed. "But if you say you'd have me, I will be by your side always."

You swallowed, considered his words, and came to a decision. "I'd be insulted if you weren't."

Thranduil's lips turned into a triumphant grin as they sought yours again. There were no more words this time, there was no need for them. Thranduil's kiss was a sweet distraction from the discomfort and pain you felt when he pierced you with one sharp thrust. Thranduil held onto you, keeping perfectly still, crooning sweet nothings into your ear. He let you adjust to his size, and he savoured how tight and hot you felt around him. 

It was all more than he had ever dreamed of, really. Thranduil would keep himself awake at night, thinking of you, dreaming of you, your body squirming and writhing underneath his, and now, all of that had turned into reality. He started to rock into your body, grinding his hips against the insides of your thighs.

The bark of the tree rubbed up against your back whenever your body jerked with his thrusts. You were sure your back would be bruised and sore the next day, but you didn't care. You only cared about what Thranduil was making you feel, and he was making you feel so much and more.

Jolt upon jolt of pleasure went up your back, turning your bones into a watery mess every time Thranduil ground his hips against you, filling you completely to the hilt.  Your moans were muffled by his kisses, your fingers could only dig into his back. Your legs struggled for purchase against his thighs as he kept bucking into you, his pace growing fast and relentless, his body tightening with each passing second.

And yours started to feel like a tightly pulled string that was about to snap. The soft squelching noises of Thranduil's length sinking into your heat seemed to carry, but you were too drunk on his embraces to care. You threw your head back as those coiled muscles grew closer to snapping. "D-don't s-stop," you pleaded.

Thranduil growled and held you tighter, his hips slapping against your thighs. He sunk his lips into your neck, his teeth scraping at your tender flesh. Your mewls inflamed him and he grew rougher, his growls growing as your walls tightened and throbbed around his cock. "Come for me," he moaned. "Come for me now."

Your body just surrendered, shattering into a million tiny pieces. You buried your face in his shoulder, your cries muffled against his robes. Your body shook violently as Thranduil grunted and buried himself deep inside of you, his essence spilling within your walls. He shivered as your orgasm kept milking his cock, and when he finally finished, he contented himself with holding you to him.

His breath fanned over your throat as he held you to him, keeping you steady. You took a deep, steadying breath and blinked, your mind suddenly clearing as a problem lay before you both. "L-legolas..." you panted. "What... What are we going to tell him?"

"He already knows," Thranduil mumbled, his chest still heaving against yours. "I spoke to him last night, and he gave me his blessing. That's why he went to Dale, so you could decide for yourself without being fogged up by his presence."

Your lips tugged up into a grin. "Trust you to leave nothing to chance."

Thranduil smirked and set you down gently, helping you fix your clothes, your hair, and setting himself to rights. "I never leave such important things to chance. That is why I'm the Elvenking."

[angelofthenight]

Legolas: Do I even weigh anything to you?

You: No, it's like holding a couple of grapes

[pistachiozombie]

I don't know if anyone else has felt this way to this extent, but Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, Tolkien, and even Bofur in general, have definitely changed my life and only made things better. I love my other hyperfixations too, but this one is hugely different and stands out from the rest. I may moan about the 'half of the fandom' that may not like my OC, or the hundreds of Bofur/Leanna content I have posted since 2019... but the greatness that came from it outshines the haters.

Not only have my mom and I bonded stronger with my love for all things Tolkien, but because I shared with her my embarrassing love for Bofur, we have made a story, which inspired her to finally make an OC - which then inspired my dad to make an OC - and he doesn't even go on the internet! Not to mention she prefers strictly staying with the lore, so adding Leanna, Estilil, Sven and my beorn dad, was surprising!

I have drawn them so many times i have gotten comfortable with drawing unique face structures and natural wrinkles, hands, poses, expressions, because i want to match the love that emits from the films.

I have met some wonderful friends and followers that have definitely enabled and pushed the love even further and motivated me to keep posting. I didn't get as much hate as I first expected to ship an oc as hard as I do with a canon character. Granted I did get some anon hate through the years that hurt, but what can you do. The inspiration I give fellow OC creators gives me a nice boost!!

Anyways, like I said, I know I bitch about the hater side of the fandom, but nobody wants to be hated for doing something they love. In the end, it was all a positive experience. I hope some of you have felt something similar too.

[floatyflowers]

Platonic Father! Sauron/ Halbrand/Annatar x Daughter! Reader

You are the daughter of Sauron, and nobody knows that except for a few, Morgoth and his servants.

Honestly, nobody knows how Sauron came to have a child of his own, nor do you even know how you are his blood child, fully from his specie none the less.

When Morgoth is backstabbed by Sauron, you thought you didn't have to be afraid of evil scheming anymore.

But no, Sauron had other plans, he wants to take the place of Morgoth.

This is why you ran away without looking back.

And you ended up with Celebrimbor who took you in and treated you as his daughter, allowing you to call him 'Ada' without knowing that you are related to Sauron

You are disguised in another form so nobody recognizes you.

You chose to start a new life, and Celebrimbor is the perfect match.

Everything was peaceful, until Halbrand or rather Annatar entered your lives and decided to manipulate Celebrimbor.

You felt extremely uncomfortable with him around, despite being unaware that he is your father in disguise.

Sauron was amused at how you didn't recognize disguised as Halbrand or Annatar, even though he immediately knew you.

Afterall, you are a part of him, body and soul.

"Annatar, you have lied to my father!"

"Your father? You truly have forgetten that you were created in my image, that I'm your real father who knows you best, my child"

[doodle-pops]

Elrond With A Modern Medical!Reader in Valinor

Request: Not sure if this is fic or just headcanons but: Modern!reader in middle earth who was a neurosurgeon in her old life and is now in Valinor working with Elrond to translate medical concepts to elven language before she dies and help advance their medical practice. Some differences between elven and human biology are found out in the process, it’s all quite fascinating to them both. She assists in a few operations but I imagine they don’t have many surgical operations to do in times of peace because people just aren’t getting injured like they used to during the famed battles against Morgoth and Sauron in middle earth. She helps on occasion but them elves are graceful and not injury-prone. - Anon

A/N: I was having trouble turning this into a fic, and since you gave me the option, not minding if I did a headcanon, I went with the latter. I had fun writing this, I also made their relationship ambiguous. Enjoy!

When you happen to arrive in Valinor, dazed by its eternal beauty and tranquillity, Elrond, with all his calming presence and wise demeanour was the first to greet and help you settle down. He was kind to welcome you into his new home.

During your time there, you and Elrond spend countless hours in his extensive library, trying to translate complex medical texts and concepts into Quenya, while he marvels at the intricacies of human detail in neurosurgery. To him, the ability to heal the brain by getting so practical and up close was fascinating.

“You humans certainly love your precision and details,” he would say as he smiled while reading through a description of a delicate brain surgery. You on the other hand would laugh and tell him that not all humans are so meticulous, following up your comment by sharing more medical mishaps from your world.

It is when you discover the biological differences between elves and humans, that things in the work become all the more interesting. You discover that elves’ regenerative abilities allow for healing preparations to be cut down and rushed to the healing wing, unimportant. Just knowing this, leaves you speechless as he casually mentions recovering from an injury that would have left a human incapacitated.

“So you’re telling me that you can heal from a stab wound in a matter of days?” you ask, incredulously with jealousy lingering. Elrond would simply nod along with a serene smile as he continued to translate the prewritten text on the paper you provided. “I wish I had that. Would have saved me all those trips to the ER.”

Assisting in medical practices in Valinor is rare but rewarding. Elrond’s precise, yet holistic approach to medicine complements your surgical expertise perfectly. Together, you manage to save a few elves who came in with nasty injuries, mostly from hunting trips gone bad.

As time passes, you are further blown away when Elrond teaches you their famous art of healing through song and rare herbs, enchanting your understanding of medicine. You do find the elves’ ability to enter healing trances particularly fascinating.

“So you just…sing them better? Like kumbaya and poof! Healed?!” you asked one day as you attempted to wrap your head around the concept, prompting Elrond to chuckle. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

As time passes, your collaboration deepens both your understanding and respect for each other’s knowledge and expertise. Elrond is continually impressed but your surgical and modern techniques, while you are captivated by the elves’ natural form of advanced healing practices. This welcomed late nights in the library often turning into philosophical discussions as Elrond is thrilled by your stories of modern technology, and you are equally captivated by his tales of Middle-Earth.

You even meet a few of his family members during your stay as words of another human dwelling in Valinor. “Wait, you all fought a literal Balrog? Those fiery beasts?” you asked one evening as you sat around a table chatting with those who encountered the creature. “If you all were in my world, you could have used a fire extinguisher to put the flames out, or just douse water on them.” You leave most of them in laughter and confusion.

Due to meeting other elves beside him, you get the opportunity to practice your healing methods on them, though, they rarely allow you to since they usually appear fine even when injured. “So you couldn’t have hit your head a little harder for me to have something to examine instead of magically healing?” you disappointedly asked one of Elrond’s family members.

That has been the relationship for most of the encounters when an elf decides to come in sporting an ‘injury’. “You said you cracked your skull four days ago while hunting but I’m not seeing any injury. Do you mind if I hit you so I can have an actual injury to work with?”

Like you, even Elrond has his moments of being light-hearted, despite his dry sense of humour, when things don’t go according to plan. If the technique is too complex, he’ll jokingly say, “Of course, if all else fails, we just use magic.” Of course, you blink at him wondering if he was being serious or joking.

The partnership between you and Elrond as your work in Valinor developed certain areas of elven magical was tedious but also worthwhile. Even the relationship between you brought each other comfort and upliftment. “I suppose I’ll be remembered as the strange human who brought surgical scalpels to the Blessed Realm and threatened to beat people in their heads,” you joked.

Elrond usual response is filled with a sense of gratitude as he makes a toast in your honour. “You will be remembered as a pioneer and someone we are grateful to have encountered. I am glad you were brought here,” he fondly cheered.

Even as your time in Valinor progresses, you and Elrond continue to explore new ways to incorporate your medical practices into their elven healing. Each time an elf stops by for healing, you sometimes have to threaten them to come in with noticeable head injuries or you’d give them, while other times, you are lucky to have something to deal with. At least, during your years there, you managed to get a lot done.

Masterlist

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

[tamurilofrivendell]

The Dragon | part 4 | Thranduil x Reader

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Three} read on AO3

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Reader

Summary: The rest of the realm finds out about Aegnor’s existence as he simply becomes too big to hide.

Content etc: The end of the mutual pining lmao. Brief threat of violence I guess.

tags: @firelightinferno​​​, @achromaticerebus​​​, @coopsgirl​​​, @birbixo0912​​​, @desert-fern​​​​, @ancient-rime​​​, @zeldastag (not sure if any of you still wanted tagged because it’s been so long jdhjdks)

The days continued to pass, turning into weeks, and suddenly Aegnor was far too big to properly conceal in your cloak on your walks to and from Thranduil’s gardens. The juvenile dragon was now the size of a young wolf and still somehow seemed to be growing by the day. A week ago, he had been taught to walk directly behind you, under the trail of your robes, but he was very often far too restless and, frankly, mischievous to play along.

It started with a few of the King’s servants. The ones who did not know that Aegnor was in the halls. One of them saw you trip over something and was about to rush over to assist you when suddenly the dragon charged from beneath your robes and jumped into a glide down the hallway. He wasn’t being threatening, he was simply stretching his wings after feeling cooped up under your robes.

The scream was heard from three halls away and Thranduil had to fly from his study and race to the scene to put an immediate stop to any words that may have left the servant’s mouth. Thankfully, they were quick to agree to keep quiet about what they had seen here, though you could see the uneasiness in their eyes - but it was clear that they would not go against the will of the king.

Unfortunately, this was only the beginning.

The next elf to witness Aegnor was not alone. Thranduil was escorting you back to your chambers, the dragon lumbering beneath your robes in frustration. Unfortunately, the animal unintentionally huffed a little too hard, and the edges of your robe began to smoke.

Thranduil was the first to notice and, with horror in his eyes, had ripped the garment right off you, afraid it had caught fire. It was only a tiny smolder, however, but the damage was already done. The group of councilmen and advisors gathering outside of the meeting room were graced with the sight of Aegnor standing uncovered, his wings unfurling as he stretched himself out again after being confined beneath the constricting fabric.

There was a long, heavy silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

The elves were shouting and drawing weapons in record time. Then they started to advance down the corridor. You were terrified because you really couldn’t protect Aegnor against all these elves and, truthfully, in the back of your mind you were fearful that Aegnor accidentally doing that to your robes would trigger Thranduil to revert back to his angry, terrified self and let them take the dragon from you.

It was not so, however, as Thranduil was quick to step directly in front of you in the middle of the hallway. He did not blink as he stared at the group of elves and, astonishingly, unsheathed his own sword. He did not raise it, the tip remained pointed firmly at the ground, but he did not need to. The sight of the Elvenking pulling a sword in the middle of his realm before his own people was enough.

The advancing elves faltered. Their expressions were a mixture of shock, surprise, mild anger... but they would not go against their king, who stood before them in challenge, his body directly in front of you and the dragon in a show of protection.

One by one, they slowly began to lower their weapons. 

The commotion had gathered a small crowd by this point, curious elves rounding the corner to see what all the fuss had been about. Each and every one of them gasped in shock as their eyes fell upon Aegnor. He closed his wings but it did nothing to make him look less intimidating. He was all teeth and hard scale and a tiny wisp of smoke still trailed upwards from the robe Thranduil had discarded upon the stone floor.

The silence was broken only by horrified murmurs from the onlookers.

Eventually, Thranduil sheathed his sword. He stood for a moment longer, his eyes roving from one elf to the next, before he glanced over his shoulder and looked at Aegnor, then you.

“Throne room.” He announced loudly, turning to face the crowd once more. “All of you. Now.”

Then he strode off down the corridor and the elves all fled before him, rushing towards the throne room as it was clear the King was about to give an address. A bell began to ring from a few halls away, calling all those from different areas of the halls to the throne room, to hear an announcement from the king.

───────────────────────────────────

The throne room was eerily silent now. Five minutes ago it had been echoing with loud, argumentative voices, all shouting at once about the dangers of this creature being in their halls, the unpredictable nature of dragons, the danger of them, outraged at the fact this secret was being kept under their very noses. The voices had become so loud that it was soon nothing but an incomprehensible babble.

Then the Elvenking had silenced all with a roar. Not another word had dared to pass the lips of any other in the time since and the only real noise was the anxious shuffle of feet or robes as elves shifted their position upon the floor.

All eyes were locked upon the king, who was sitting very still up on his throne, staring steadily ahead as if oblivious to the presence of anyone else.  

“Do you not think-” His voice came then, smooth as honey and dangerously quiet. “-that I would be the first to wish for my halls to be rid of such a danger - if such a danger indeed existed?”

“My lord-” The voice of one of Thranduil’s closest advisors interjected. “It is a dragon.”

“Yes. I do think I know what a dragon is.” He said simply, his mind filling with the memory of wide jaws and red flame.

The advisor blinked at him before continuing. “Forgive me, but are you certain that you are not...” There was a pause, as if the man was trying to decide upon the correct way to word whatever left his mouth next. “...clouded?”

The corner of Thranduil’s left eye twitched. Most did not notice. Those who did, shifted uneasily. “Clouded?” He repeated, his voice deceptively soft. “Explain.”

“I just mean..." Here, the advisor trailed off and went silent. He could not come up with a tactful way to say what he wished to say, and did not want to incite the Elvenking’s wrath. He could already see it beginning to simmer away beneath the surface and had no desire to stoke that fire.

In the silence, Thranduil continued to gaze steadily upon the advisor, unblinking, his face blank. He knew exactly what the advisor wished to say. That his mind was clouded by his... friendship with you. That he had allowed you to get under his skin and make him lose sense. Thranduil stared at him for a while longer, listening to the uncomfortable shuffling of feet in the room around him. 

Thranduil stared until the advisor lowered his gaze and then he finally blinked and looked away, addressing the room entire. “I am well aware of what you are all thinking. That this creature poses a danger to all of you, to us, to the safety of these halls.” His gaze swept the room, landing on the face of every single elf in attendance. “The question I have is would I ever put you at such risk? Have you all so little faith in me?”

The question took everybody by surprise and many looked away in shame. There were murmurs and shakes of heads because the answer of course was no. The thought was terrible to even consider. They had such great faith in the Elvenking. They trusted him implicitly. He would never place them in certain danger that way, especially not within these walls, they did realise such a thing...

...but it was still a dragon.

The murmuring began once more, climbing to a crescendo as his people began to argue back and forth, uneasy and frightened. Some talked about ridding the halls of the animal, some talked about ridding the world of it, others were now a little more on the king’s side and tried to defend his word - yet still Thranduil could see they were not fully convinced.

“An abomination! It will burn these halls down, you mark my words!”

“The king would not put us in danger, do you not see?”

“Are you so blind? We are all going to die and it is all the fault of that stupid girl!”

Thranduil stood up suddenly and the room went quiet once more. 

“Two weeks.” He said simply, descending the steps of his throne, biting his tongue to stop himself from lashing out too directly. “Two more weeks and the beast will be gone. I assure you. But nobody, and I mean nobody, is to take this matter into their own hands.” He paused at the bottom of the throne, his eyes flickering from one elf to the next, focusing on those perhaps most prone to causing trouble or those he had heard voicing through the chatter their wish for the animal destroyed. A dragon in the halls was a dangerous thing but because the creature was still fairly young, he could see how easy it would be for someone especially terrified to try and rid the realm of the beast while it was still little enough. Had he not attempted to do the same? “If I hear so much as a whisper... I will treat it as treason and there will be consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

A beat of silence passed before nods and soft murmurs of agreement were returned to the Elvenking. Thranduil stood a moment longer and then he turned and strode from the room.

───────────────────────────────────

“They want him dead.” You sighed heavily, frowning as you looked down at Aegnor, who had fallen a short distance away in the grass as you sat in Thranduil’s gardens.

Thranduil walked over to where you sat, having gone inside briefly to get himself some more wine as this entire thing was giving him quite the headache. He sat down beside you and shook his head. “And for good reason.”

You lifted your head so sharply that he thought you could have given yourself whiplash. Thranduil was quick to hold his hand up before you could say a word, realising that his words had come out harsher than he had intended them to in his stress. “In their eyes, I mean.” He sighed, sipping his wine. “Little one... it is natural to fear dragons.”

You looked down at your hands with a frown. “But...”

“You cannot convince an entire realm as you have convinced me.” He stated. Even then, he thought about how difficult that had been, how many times he had almost given in to the fear and done something he could never take back.

A silence followed.

Thranduil watched you closely, tracking the sorrow as it travelled from your tear-filled eyes down to your pursed lips. He bit down softly on his lower lip and turned his head away. “Still.” He continued, once more drawing your attention. “I am king. Nobody will touch him. The plan remains the same, we take him to the mountains.” He looked down at Aegnor for a moment then, deciding that he would actually miss his presence. “He is growing too unhappy here.”

It was the sad truth of it. As much as Aegnor cared for you, and by extension Thranduil, dragons were solitary creatures and he needed much more space than he was allowed to have here in these halls. He also needed to hunt for his meals, he was not getting enough stimulation and he always seemed unhappy when he had to stop flying and go back inside to hide in your chamber.

You blinked and a tear trailed down your cheek. Before you could lift your hand to wipe it away, Thranduil’s finger was on your face. You slowly lifted your chin to look at him as he wiped away the tear, your eyes locking for a moment. Your thoughts flickered back to the way he had kissed you, when you had tended his burn scars. Despite how at odds you had both been, you still could not believe that he had actually done it... yet you still chalked it up to some sort of moment of madness and so you started to turn your head away before you could get too lost in the moment.

Thranduil had started to wonder more and more, especially after that day in the gardens weeks ago when he was certain he had seen something in your eyes, as if you had been feeling the electricity in the air just as he had... and as you turned your head, his hand stopped you, gently tilting your face back round again. Your eyes met once more and then, throwing caution completely to the wind, he leaned in and kissed you.

Your eyes went wide and for a moment you almost couldn’t react again. For that moment, Thranduil felt the same uncertainty and grief he had when he had kissed you that first time in his chamber. Just as he was about to pull away, your arms moved around his neck and you kissed him back.

He could scarcely believe it!

The world disappeared for a moment as you returned his kiss and Thranduil dropped a hand to your waist, gently pulling you in towards him.

Your own mind was spinning. You’d thought the possibility of this was long gone. After he had kissed you in his chamber and you had not reciprocated out of mere shock, you’d thought you’d ruined any chance completely. You also thought, despite his change of attitude, that the betrayal of concealing Aegnor from him at all would have cut too deeply and that there would always be a part of Thranduil that might never forgive you.

A sound similar to a harsh squawk broke the silence suddenly and a weight dropped down onto the top of Thranduil’s head and down his back. His eyes shot open and he broke the kiss with a grunt, tilting his head back just slightly but tiny little claws simply dug into his scalp and a tail wrapped beneath his armpit, curling around towards his chest.

“Ah...” He gritted his teeth, shaking his head as he looked back at you. The dragon was simply too big for this now but the animal did not seem to register it. “I think I preferred it when he did not like me....” Thranduil muttered, met by your amused laughter as you sat up onto your knees and reached out to coax Aegnor down off his head.

The dragon jumped off him and into the air again, landing very politely by your side and sitting nicely as he waited for you to pet him. 

Thranduil eyed the dragon, unamused by the difference in treatment the two of you received. In contrast you were completely amused and could only chuckle again as you saw the look on his face. Aegnor crowed, the sound turning softer and the dragon’s eyes half closing as you reached a hand out to touch him.

Thranduil rolled his eyes and shook his head, sliding an arm around your shoulders and drawing you into his side as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His heart was still racing after the kiss but there was no urgency in either of you to dissect it.

The three of you lapsed into a comfortable silence. Thranduil leaned back against a tree with you tucked under his arm and sipped his wine while you brushed your fingers over Aegnor’s scales. You too were slightly reeling from the kiss, your cheeks flushed and your stomach in knots, yet your thoughts were not all pleasant as you thought about the events of today and how, in only a couple more weeks, you would have to say goodbye to this beautiful creature.

[robsth0r]

Ears Of The Elven (Legolas x Human!Afab!Reader)

A/N: So I had this idea... and I needed to write it out so here it is! I love the sensitive elf ear trope so I of course had to write one too. For the “Afab Reader” that is because there is no mention of gender other than the reader being born female so if you’re transmasc that would work too. Anyways hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Smut/Lemon (18+), Sex.

Word Count: 1089

Extra: There is some sindarin in this chapter so this is the translation of it; Meleth: Love. Meleth Nin: My Love

Legolas was laying in his bed peacefully slipping away into his dreamland. That was till his eyes snapped open as he felt a finger delicately run over the shell of his ear. A rush of pleasure went through his body and he let a shaky breath out.

"Aragorn wasn't joking." I said, in awe. Legolas and I had been dating for around a year or so and being in this position with me currently holding the most sensitive part of the elves body was something Legolas definitely hadn’t thought would happen. I was sitting next to him keeping a firm yet light grip on his ear.

"Quite sensitive?" I leaned down to whisper into his ear, my warm breath sending sparks up and down his spine causing him to shudder. Legolas raised his eyes to glare at me, his sharp gaze looking directly into my soul. My grin grew wider.

"Let… GO." He growled, trying hard to ignore the feather light finger strokes on his ear and how they were affecting him.

"Hmmm… No." I grinned again, reaching across his head to stroke his left ear. The result left Legolas squirming and breathless. The sight of the extremely horny elf next to me was enough for my heart to skip a couple beats. I wondered how it was to have such sensitive ears.

I continued teasing Legolas's ear lobe before leaning down to press gentle kisses all around his earlobe. Every time my lips touched Legolas's sensitive skin it tingled from head to toe, making goosebumps spread across his arms and legs. His heart rate increased dramatically as I moved lower down his body, kissing him along every inch of the way. When I reached the base of his neck Legolas arched into my touch, letting out a moan. I smiled against his throat and slowly began trailing kisses back up his jawline.

When I got there Legolas opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by another groan coming all the way from the back of his throat. I smirked against the side of his face before licking all the way up his long pointy ear, enjoying his gasps and moans.

"Y/n…" Legolas begged, his voice deeper than normally, taking shallow breaths from the pleasure. I hear the warning in his voice but that doesn't stop me. I swing my leg over his chest, securing him under me.

"Gotta say please, Lassy." I chuckled softly and ran my left hand down the side of his torso still keeping my other hand occupied at his ear. I knew the elves didn't like losing control over themselves as it is what elves pride themselves on.

I grinned darkly as my finger reached the tip of Legolas's ear, pinching it lightly earning myself a groan from Legolas. He felt his control snap... thread... by... thread. I hadn't made him lose control even once while we had been together. But if the stories Aragorn had told me about Arwen were anything to go by it could be an interesting night.

I took my hand off of his ear and trailed it down his chest, teasing his waistband. With a flick of my wrist my fingers unfastened it and pulled it over Legolas's hips before slipping his pants down. My hands found his shaft making him twitch. I lowered my head and licked along his length groaning against it and that was enough to make him explode right then and there.

He flung himself up and secured both my hands in a firm grip above my head, him leaning over me.

"If you do that one more time I'm gonna-" He was cut off by a loud moan escaping my throat as I arched my back letting the night shirt I had on fall exposing my breasts. His eyes darkened as his pupils dilated and he lustfully looked down at me.

Before I could react, he thrusted his cock into my warm core repeatedly, kissing and nippling the skin of my breasts. The pleasure was almost overwhelming but just barely, so I grabbed onto Legolas's shoulder to steady myself as I arched my back even more in pleasure. He grunted as he fucked me hard but with pure desire, my pussy fluttering around him.

He reached his hand down and circled my clit, letting small bits of pleasure seep through me. Legolas now kissed my neck, his tongue licking out over my pulse. Legolas’ fingers worked wonders over my clit as he throbbed within me. Legolas took a glance at me and he could see the pleasure trickling into my eyes as he rocked his cock into me.

“Legolas!” I moaned, my head falling back onto the bed. My cunt tightened and wetness flooded around Legolas’ cock.

“Legolas, oh, right there,” I moaned as he fucked into me a bit faster. His thrusts were rough and hard, his nails biting into my thighs gently as he grabbed my legs, spreading me wider so he could get deeper.

Legolas was bringing me so much pleasure that I couldn’t think of any words other than his name. I babbled it, along with a few expletives, about how much I wanted his cock, how I needed him, and eventually, how badly I needed to cum.

Legolas wasn’t far behind me. He wanted to sink himself so deeply into my body that he could never find the way out. Legolas released one of my thighs and pinched my clit. He rubbed it furiously, daring me to cum. His eyes were wild as he stared down at me, beautiful, throaty groans escaping his body.

“Cum for me, gorgeous. Show your prince how good you feel. Cum all over my cock, meleth.” Legolas grunted. He tapped my clit quickly, and with a shout of his name, I came all over him. My body writhed with pleasure as whiteness blinded me. His name fell from my lips, and as he heard me cry out for him, Legolas came inside of me. He filled me with his cum, pumping himself slowly inside of me.

I couldn't get enough of Legolas. I never wanted to leave him.

We both collapsed next to each other, panting heavily as our breathing calmed.

"I love you," Legolas groaned, rolling us around to make himself comfortable spooning me, "Please never leave me." The plea was laced with love and longing and I turned around in his arms. I kissed his forehead gently.

"Of course, meleth nin." I whispered, stroking his hair. "I'm never leaving you."