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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

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That’s it, Princess

Summary: You sneak out the Keep to rile up your husband. And his punishment is...not what you thought it would be.

Based off this ask:

A/N: So I think I was possessed when I wrote this cos I blacked out halfway through so. I also changed the request up a bit to suit what I wanted to write. Hope it lives up to expectations 😁

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Minors DNI, pussy slapping, fingering, p in v sex, mean Aemond, suggestions of a safe word, orgasm denial, name calling, Aemond creampies reader cos he wants lots of little heirs

You huff.

The sun had barely kissed the horizon to give way to the evening before you threw your embroidery to the floor, more angered than anything else. Another night. Another night where Aemond would not return to your marital chambers.

There were several excuses he made, all centering around his duties. Whether it was training, helping his grandfather, being at his mother’s beck and call or spending days with Helanea, more often than not these past weeks Aemond found more comfort in only returning to your chambers in the dead of night when you were already asleep.

Not only were you frustrated, you were hurt. Did he not realise how he was treating his wife? Yes, it had barely been four moons since the wedding and the first two moons had been heavenly. More often than not you were slotted against one another, tangled in the sheets with the heady stench of coupling in the air. But a moon or so ago, he completely flipped. Unconscious or not.

At first, you smiled at his explanations like the pliant wife you should be to a Targaryen prince. But now you felt you’d given him enough chances.

You were alone at court. Being neither a Targaryen nor acquainted properly with his sister and mother, there was no female company to preoccupy you. Day after day, it felt like you were just mindlessly existing, sewing pattern after pattern to fill the uncomfortable void that Aemond’s lack of presence left behind.

At first you thought that marrying him, bearing his heirs and living at court would be every woman’s dream. But it was quickly turning into something akin to limbo. How were you supposed to bear his heirs if he was never even around to see you? The whisperings were starting to whirl around at the lack of pregnancy. All of the critiques pointed at you.

So that was it. Fuck it.

You would give him something to be angry about. Anything, any emotion would do at this point. Just something from him to acknowledge your mere existence.

There was a perpetual frown on your face as you pulled the heavy cloak over you. You’d opted to change into a dress that did not explicitly show your status, thereby ridding you completely of jewels, all bar the ring that tied you to Aemond. It was a part of you now, and the thought of taking it off had not even crossed your mind.

With a light push of your hip against the painting in the corner of the room, the passageway opened up and the darkness and draught crept in. There was no hesitation, you were so angry. You pulled the hood up against your hair, though once you were out in the capital there was no need for it, no silver hair to cover. You were not like them and it was evident in the way Aemond had been so nonchalant to cast you aside for more important matters.

The sweet relief of the air of Kings Landing swept through your hair and over your skin and you sighed, pulling the hood down so it rested around your shoulders. Kings Landing was always an enigma to you. How so many people who looked so different, sounded so different, could all co-exist in such small quarters, shoulder to shoulder with their companions. It seemed so squished together. Some liked it. Some didn’t.

But it was different and that was certainly enough of an adventure, you were beginning to go mad counting all the tiles on the floor.

The sounds of laughter, anger and drunkenness filled the narrow streets. It was a warm evening so the majority of people were at their local alehouses, either making friends or enemies, it didn’t matter. You smiled as some of the ladies inside one alehouse were dancing, hand in hand with cups of ale in the other. It was spilling all over the floor, but it did not seem like they cared.

With a visible uncertainty that told everyone around you that you did not know what you were doing, you pushed through to one particular alehouse, smiling at the bartender. He was burly and well built, his mouth tight in a thin line, showing no warmth.

“What can I get ya?” he asked in the accent you’ve come to know as one the commoners.

With an attempt to lighten the air, you give him a smile, albeit an anxious one and take a seat at the bar.

“Just an ale, please” you say, trying to take the nervousness out of your voice. He raises an eyebrow to you, but pours a cup anyway, sliding it across the wetted bar counter to land in your hands.

The bartender braces the counter with his large arms, “I’ve never seen ya around these parts”

It catches you off guard a little when he tries to engage.

“I’m just passing through” you smile, taking a sip and wincing slightly at the bitter taste it leaves behind in your mouth. It coats your mouth differently compared to the dornish wines you’re used to.

His gaze flits to the wedding ring on your hand, staring for a few seconds before you clasp your other hand over it.

“Well keep your wits about you” he says, turning away to serve someone else.

You’re not quite sure how to take what he’s just said on board. So you simply turn to watch the rest of the patrons, enjoying the way they stumble over one another, laughing without a care in the world. The music is absolutely blaring and the man on the drums almost makes the very floors vibrate as he plays, and the man who sings has such a feminine voice it’s beautiful. You smile and clap along to the beat of the music, taking a sip of the ale every now and then.

What a life these people lead.

And it dawns on you why you are here. Because your husband no longer seems interested in you. And the clouds descend on your heart, dulling the shine that came out briefly when you watched these commoners go about their lives.

“Why the sad face, darlin’?”

A man materialises beside you and you jump back at his closeness. He smells of ale, but then again, so does everyone else you supposed. He had a drunken smile and could not have been older than thirty. Trying to not be impolite, you give a wry smile.

“I am fine, sir”

He props his ale on the bar, offering you a large hand, “dance with me?” he slurs.

If it’s possible, you press yourself further against the bar, trying to make it clear with your body language that the answer is no.

“Oh, no thank you”

As men do, drunk or not, he ignores you and pulls you up to your feet by your arm with an unusually firm grip. At first, you think how untoward it is for a man of his station to put his hands so forcibly on you. But you remembered where you were and who these people thought you were and quickly pushed the initial discomfort aside. In an attempt to still be polite, you quietly refuse him,

“I am fine, sir, please” you say, but to your dismay, he carries on and pulls you close to him.

“Don’t be like that, have fun!”

As fun as it was to watch, now you’re just getting annoyed, so you push against his chest, “Get off me” you try and say it forcefully, but it’s quiet.

He starts dancing, pulling your body flush with his. And a flash of red anger envelops you, your hands flat against his chest. But before you can, the door to the alehouse bursts open. Everyone seems to look over in sync, eyes landing on the figure who envelops the doorway with his form. The silhouette is visible even in the low light, how it bounces off his silver hair around his shoulders. And if anyone had any doubt, his eyepatch is firmly in place over his left eye, proving to everyone that it was indeed Aemond Targaryen.

He pokes his cheek with his tongue in annoyance as his eye lands on you. Using the man’s temporary shock at seeing the Prince to your advantage, you push him away, facing your husband face on, your face pink with anger. Ever the silent man, he doesn’t say anything for a moment and secures his gaze on the other man, who seems like he’s about to shit himself.

Aemond takes a few steps before he is standing tall before the man, his own gaze is averted, wide-eyed as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Give me one good reason” Aemond draws his sword, “why I should not cut you down where you stand” he says it lowly and you simply watch, wondering how far he will go to protect his pride. His wife.

“My Prince…I-I” the man starts, shaking where he stands. Briefly you look over to the bartender, who raises his eyebrows at you, as if to say you’re in for it.

“Answer me” Aemond hisses, his good eye trained at him.

“Aemond please..” you reach forward for his arm but he shrugs you off. For a second it squeezes your heart, but you realise that he is so deep in rage, it almost seems like he hasn’t heard you.

“You dare touch my wife in such a way” he says lowly. The man’s eyes widen and his pupils shake, and for a moment he looks back at you.

“Don’t look at her” he warns, gripping the sword tightly, “Look at me”

You look over them both to see the man has a large wet patch in front of his trousers, having soiled himself in fear of his own death. Shaking your head, you try again.

“Aemond” you say louder this time. And it seems to work, you’re on his good side, so all he has to do is turn slightly to meet your gaze. With your hand around his forearm, you shake your head, “Don’t”

The man falls to his knees before the prince, pleading his case, “Thank you, my lady! Please, my Prince, I did not realise!” his words are hurried and slurred. Aemond almost grimaces at the display and ponders the situation for a moment. And you can see the muscle in his jaw twitch, until he hums and turns away. He grips the fabric at your back to force you in front of him, almost tripping you over as he pulls you out of the alehouse.

The walk back to the passageways that connect the rooms of the Red Keep is quiet but quick, but it feels like a lifetime. No sooner has he pushed you through the door that leads to your marital chambers than you are babbling frantically.

“Aemond, I’m sorry, I tried to push him away but-”

“Take off your dress” he says bluntly. And it’s so calm it catches you off guard. His eye is staring blankly at you while he takes off his cloak.

“Aemond, wh-”

“Did you not hear me? Take off your fucking dress” he repeats.

The ice in his words makes your heart stutter a little. You’ve only seen this side of Aemond a handful of times in your short marriage, at least intimately anyway and the tone of his voice and the way he orders you makes a warm sensation settle in your belly, tugging below your belly button. Your limbs begin to tremble, both with anticipation and a little fear, this you cannot lie to yourself about.

You just stand there, shocked at his words and frozen in place when he walks up to you, invading your space with his wide and tall form.

“A-aemond, what-”

His face is stern when he speaks.

“You want to act like a slut, you’ll be treated like a slut”

He turns you around, body flush against your back and all but rips the cloak off your shoulders. There are no pre-emptive kisses, no warm touches of adoration. You just look at him and see pure, unadulterated lust. A desire, not only to take you as he sees fit, but to put you in your place for what you’d done. His words should offend you, but they only serve to increase that need between your thighs, which you push together for some friction.

He moves to the dress, the one he’d ordered for you to remove and rips it down the seam at the back, the threads make a scraping sound as they’re pulled apart roughly. His assault on the fabric continues as he pushes it over your bare hips, your body reacting to the cold air that hits your already wet cunt.

“Pathetic” he spits as he grips your hair, tugging slightly on them at the crown. He pulls you up and you whine out as it hurts at first, but almost instantly contributes to the wetness between your legs, “Does my pathetic little wife want to be punished?” he asks lowly.

For a second, you wonder if it’s a strange question for him to ask, but then you realise he’s giving you an out if you need it. If you feel uncomfortable. And he stands still at your back, waiting for the answer.

Swallowing dryly, you breathe, “Yes…”

You swear you feel him tense up behind him, as if he’s thinking of all the ways he might punish you. And it is here that you’re aware of his length, hot and hard against your soft backside. The anticipation flutters in your stomach.

“Yes what”

Oh Gods, you think. Anxiety wracks your body.

“Yes, my prince”

“Good”

His flaming touch disappears from your bare skin for a moment, moving to the buttons of his tunic, undoing them with alarming calmness.

“Lay on the bed. Don’t make me ask twice”

Not one to poke an already angry dragon, you obey. Sitting in the middle of the bed, with your legs pushed together you look up to watch your husband. His eye never leaves you and it shocks you just how stoic he is right now with the clear bulge underneath his breeches. Most of the time, he would make love to you slowly, lovingly. Only on the off chance would he indulge in primal carnal desires, asking you to call him ‘my prince’ and denying you your peak when he’d deemed you too greedy.

He shrugged his tunic off his shoulders and disposed of his underneath, allowing his pale chest exposure to the slightly cold air of your chambers.

“Spread your legs for me”

You swallow dryly at his instruction, the lack of emotion in them and in his eye sends a bolt of humiliation straight to core, and you feel yourself get shamefully wet, as if you already had not been.

Leaning back on your elbows, taking a few breaths to calm your nerves, your ankles splay out, revealing what lies between those pretty thighs for your husband to shamefully observe. The shameful warmth in your belly makes you want to shut your eyes, to spare yourself the judgement of Aemond’s gaze, but you know just as well he will punish you for that too if you do.

He calmly undoes the laces to his breeches, almost sighing in relief when his cock, hard and desperate for attention, springs free of their confines. He uses his hand to give it one or two pumps, and it prods against his stomach with the force of how hard it is. His eye is focussed entirely on your cunt and cunt alone, standing there. And you feel yourself staring too much as his pretty cock, the tip pink and weeping now that he’s allowed himself to touch it briefly.

“Do you see that?” he asks, “Do you see what you do to me?” he says,

And you hope to all the Gods that it’s rhetorical, because you barely heard what he said, too busy imagining all the ways he would impale you.

Even though he’s naked and clearly desperate for any touch, he stalks over to the bed with shocking control. His hands wrap around your ankles and pull, dragging your legs over the bed and planting them on either side of his thighs. You yelp in surprise at the sudden action and the feeling of your legs touching his bare thighs is enough to send another gush of arousal through you.

You know just as well to be quiet until he speaks directly, and definitely not to touch yourself. That part is reserved for him.

“Remind me of our word, wife” he almost spits that word, as if all he saw before him was a petulant whore.

“Dracarys”

He merely nods, widening his legs so as to widen your own, giving himself a good view of your achingly wet cunt before him. Both of his hands move to grip your thighs, leaving red marks in their wake that now feel like they’re the most dangerous thing about him. He almost kneads the flesh in his calloused palms, watching the way your breath hitches when his fingers graze that delicate space between your legs and hips.

“You vex me to no end” he says and you feel the goosebumps on your arms at the tone of voice.

“I apologise, husband-”

“Oh I will have my apology” he muses, “When I want it”

A shudder envelops your body when his long, slender fingers run up the puffy folds of your cunt, slipping them between the lips there to brush against the wettened pearl hidden beneath. The sheer sound it makes is embarrassing enough, but the way he barely even touches that little bundle of nerves and the reaction you give, is the most embarrassing thing about it all.

Knowing not to touch him, your fists clench the bedsheets at your sides. Aemond chuckles,

“Is this how sensitive my little wife is?” he muses, his fingers collecting the wetness there that was a pure result of his unkind words to you. And when one finger prods at the slick hole of your entrance, you gasp. “Maybe I should punish you more often…if you are as wet as this before I’ve barely even touched you”

Two fingers circle the entrance, the pads of his fingers now entirely slick with your arousal, while his thumb rubs lazy circles at your clit. And you wonder for a moment, how exactly this is punishment. But it’s far too early to be thinking like that.

“I wonder what sounds my pretty little whore can make” he murmurs as he prods two fingers inside you only barely, making your eyes shut tight, but he doesn’t move them further than that.

“Open your eyes”

Pink at the cheeks with sheer humiliation, you do as he says without another word to see his other hand is stroking his cock at a languid pace. You almost whimper, it should be you touching him like that…not himself.

Rewarding you briefly, he tucks two of his fingers as deep as they will go inside your waiting heat, grinning widely at the sound it makes. All breath seems to be stolen from your lungs when his fingers expertly brush against that rough spot within you and it takes all your strength to merely keep your eyes open to look up at him. Gods he looks so happy with himself right now. Knowing all your spots.

But you never thought he’d use that information like this.

It was kind of…thrilling.

The combination of his words, the deep humiliation and his roughened nature, you feel your peak approaching embarrassingly fast. Your breath shudders in your chest and hands fist more of the bedsheets, needing somewhere to place this feeling. And Aemond seems more than willing right now to let you indulge in the euphoric feeling, your climax hurtling towards you at an alarming pace.

As soon as the thought enters your head, his fingers are gone and you jolt with a squeal when he delivers a firm smack straight to your cunt. Without meaning to, you whimper, both at the loss of his thick fingers tucked within you and also at the burning desire for him to do what he’d just done again.

Your brows furrow as you look up at him, his smirk now long gone, replaced with that same flat and stoic expression from earlier

“It wouldn’t be much of a punishment if I let you peak, now would it?”

Oh.

So that was his plan.

A flash of fear runs across your face, but most of it is the frustration of not knowing exactly how he intends to toy with you further.

He raises his fingers to your mouth, prodding at your lips, chuckling darkly at the confused expression you wear on your face, “Go on, clean up the mess you made”

You suck on the two digits he offers you, not only tasting the essence of your own heat, but covering them with your spit, hoping that your effort right now in obeying him will prove beneficial to you later. If he was feeling generous, that is.

In this moment, with that cruel, dark look in his eye, you honestly were not sure.

“Good…” his tone is almost soft here, appreciating the way your tongue glides over his fingers.

For a moment it makes you feel safe.

Aemond pulls his fingers from your mouth, reaching up with his other hand to pull his eyepatch off. You had been married long enough for you to have seen it before, but even now, it still renders you speechless every time you see it. The way it glimmers against the flames of the hearth, sitting comfortably in his empty eye socket. You often thought it beautiful, even before being wed to him.

But now, as he discards it to the floor and looks down at you, it almost takes on a gaze of its own. And it only strengthens that anticipation deep within your gut.

The fingers, now wet with your spit, run over your slick folds again, now sensitive from the denied release.

“So wet still…” he whispers, “...I did not know I had such a needy whore for a wife”

You moan out loud at how mean he’s being right now, coupled with the intense burning touch.

“Aemond…please…” you breathe. You wouldn’t have realised your slip up until he gives another wet smack to your pussy once again. Another jolt of pleasure runs through you, making your thighs tremble with desire and he seems pleased when you make a surprised sound.

He reaches down and runs his thick shaft against your slit, collecting the wetness that has pooled there since his torture on your body. Your chest is wracked with heavy breaths, wishing that he’d just break and fuck you already. But if Aemond was anything, he was patient. He was more than happy to wait if it meant you were a whining, moaning mess beneath him. The fat head of his cock barely sinks beneath your swollen lips, kissing against your clit as he brushes it up which only serves to make your body jolt once again.

“Hm…” goes the deep rumble in his chest, “...I don’t think that’s what I told you to call me…”

“Please…I’m sorry, my prince…” you’re just begging at this point, the previous resolve you did have is now dwindling quickly.

“See? It’s not hard is it?”

He uses his cock to torture your core further, dipping the head of it between your lips to prod against your readied entrance, ready and willing to accept his length. But he pulls it away once again, only to repeat the motions, chuckling at the effect it has on you.

“What do you want, wife?”

Your face is pink and desperate, and you so badly want to tell him to just fuck you senseless right now. Play along, just play along…you think. Surely he can’t hold back forever.

“I want you inside me…” you manage between ragged breaths as he keeps dipping his cock against your hole.

“Beg for it”

You let out a frustrated whine when his thumb simply rests on your clit, not moving an inch.

“Come on, beg for it” he grins widely. He looks so pleased with himself you want to make a comment on it, but your body just wants him so deep inside you you can’t think straight.

“Please…my prince…please fuck me…” you can feel the frustration hot on your cheeks, bubbling up into tears glazing your eyes.

It’s too much. So much so that you think if he doesn’t thrust deep inside and move his thumb against your clit, you might just die.

“Such foul language, princess”

He gives his shaft a few more strokes, letting the bright red tip, aching to be buried inside your wet, waiting cunt, breach your entrance just slightly.

You can feel the relief, it’s so close, all he has to do is push forward…

“Eyes on me now” he instructs lowly.

Your mouth falls open, and a sigh of relief empties your lungs when he slowly sheathes himself within you. He is eerily calm and collected, a stark contrast to how you are holding back at this very moment. The sheer sound of your arousal enveloping him seems to make him smile, until he is fully seated to the hilt, the tip kissing your cervix.

You do as you are told, eyes on him the entire time, eyes glassy in relief at the feeling of just being completely full of him. He’s always been one for seeing his wife is satisfied, and so seeing the look on your face, his eyes glimmer in pride.

To your surprise, he starts a pace, albeit slow, but a pace nonetheless. Only quiet breathy sounds are heard from your mouth, and you think (stupidly) that you are safe. You start to indulge in the feeling of his erection continuously sinking into you, rocking your hips slightly against him to increase the pace somewhat.

And you are embarrassingly close. The ache of the previous denied release never fully went away, and it creeps up from the depths to fizzle at the surface once more, just aching for speed, for roughness, for anything but this torture. You feel every vein, every stroke, every angle of his hips, and it only makes you want more.

And then he stops and jolts you back when he presses his thumb forcefully against your clit, but not enough to truly hurt.

“Say the words” he orders, his tone flat and unforgiving.

Surely the Aemond you know is caring, loving even, is still there…right?

“Say the words, and I might let you peak tonight”

You swallow, stilling your hips as much as it pains you. The force of holding back makes your thighs tremble, evident in the low light of the room.

“…my prince?...”

His large, calloused hand wraps around your neck, shocking you in the most arousing way possible. His cock is inside you to the hilt and this should definitely not be turning you on as much as it is, and yet you feel another gush of your essence coat your thighs, betraying how you really feel. His fingers curl around it so effortlessly, and he only squeezes a little. He is so calculated in his movements, it’s almost frightening.

“Don’t give me ‘my prince’” he mocks, “I want your apology. Now”

Without even thinking, the pain of him not moving and stilling his hips too great, tears prick at your eyes as you babble an apology,

“I am sorry, husband, I truly am! I was foolish to go out on my own. Forgive me”

His fingers curl around your neck just that tiny bit more and he has that wolfish grin on his face once more, clearly enjoying the way he is able to bring you to this pathetic little mess of a wife he must see you as now.

“Yes, it was foolish” he says, so nonchalantly, as if he isn’t fully inside you right at this moment, “I thought my wife was an intelligent woman. And yet here she is mewling and crying with her husband’s cock inside of her, begging to be forgiven”

You swallow around his hand in nervousness, seeing the way his iris is blown so wide with lust he almost does not look human at all. Perhaps they were right. When they say Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Because here, using you for his own cruel means, it is both gorgeous and terrifying, as Gods should be.

Tears prick at your eyes and you worry that if you blink they will fall. All you can focus on is his hand around your neck, every vein in his cock pulsing with desire deep inside you, and your walls squeezing him to try and ease him back into fucking you.

In a quiet breathy voice, you mewl, “husband…please…”

He chuckles when he sees how you are holding your pretty tears back, “Why are you crying, hm? Do I need to punish you again?” he smirks, “I could just stay like this…”

“No, no…please…”

“Then tell me what you want, wife” he sneers,

You finally allow yourself to blink and the tears stream down your cheeks.

“I want you…to fuck me…husband…” you say between breaths.

His tongue pokes at his cheek, as if he’d been waiting all day to hear that.

Aemond pushes your body back further onto the bed, his own knees coming to rest on it, and you whimper, his cock shoved only briefly further into you, kissing your cervix. It provides a little relief.

And your husband smiles widely as he takes your hips in both hands and brings them to rest against his waist. And he’s not moved yet, but purely the change of angle makes the head of his cock kiss against that rough patch within.

Smirking, he starts at a slow pace once more, and you cry at the relief of it. It’s slow, not at all the quick, brutal pace you need, but it’s something.

He all but laughs at your blissed out expression, taking in the glassy, glazed over look in your eyes.

“Who am I to deny my little wife?” he says.

And every nerve is your body is on fire when his thumbs dig into your hips and he finally just fucks you, in the way he knows you always like to be fucked. Your body goes slack as his hips snap against yours and the only sound in the room is the erotic slap of your bodies against each other. Every now and then Aemond curses under his breath at the force of which your walls clamp down on him.

All the teasing he’d done had done little to quell that impending release that you so desperately needed, and you could feel it form painfully in your stomach, wound up so tight and fit to burst.

“Gods…Aemond…” you breathe.

He presses one of his palms on your stomach, to feel the presence of himself there within you. Your body reacts on its own, bucking up into him as it pushes that sweet spot against his cock. He leans over, still keeping up that brutal pace and you can feel his hair against your chest, his breath on your neck.

His teeth graze over the delicate skin where he once has his entire hand choking you, “Fuck…your cunt feels amazing…” he whispers against you, “...I know you are close…”

A whimper teases its way out of your throat. Fuck, he can read your body like a book. Knows it far too well.

Knowing he is right, he presses harder against your stomach, squeezing you around his cock inside you as he pistons mercilessly into your cunt, the lewd sound of your arousal only aiding your peak. And it’s the mere whisper of a touch of his thumb across your throbbing clit that drives you over the edge.

“Fuck…” you breathe as your body grows rigid, hands still fisted hard within the sheets. Your muscles tremble and your cunt clenches around him, to which he lets out an uncharacteristically loud moan straight into your ear.

And you expect him to follow suit, but he simply keeps fucking you through it, intent to prolong this little death.

“Aem..nd…I can’t..” you beg.

Your first orgasm is barely gone before your stomach winds painfully again and he chuckles again, deeply and low against your body. In a rather sweet gesture, he leaves open-mouthed kisses against your neck and jaw, a stark contrast to the sweet torture he is performing against your sex.

“You can…give me another and I will fuck my seed into you…”

Your eyes screw shut. And there’s not enough words to describe the utter destruction your body feels it is going under, and you feel yourself fall apart more and more with each erotic slap of his balls against you.

“I’ve got you princess…that’s it…let go…”

Finally, your hands fly up from the sheets to clamour at his skin, needing to touch him all over. It’s a mess. His mouth fights against yours, biting at your swollen lower lip to draw the faintest bit of blood. All the while his cock is impaling your cunt at breakneck speed, chasing his release while yours just builds and builds…

Your fingers dig into his arms painfully as your second climax rolls over you. It’s loud and immense and you swear for a moment you are lost to the world, the only thing grounding you being the sound of Aemond’s low grunts as he chases his own release.

He gives several rough, deep thrusts, making sure to shove his seed as deep inside you as it will go before he finally stills above you, rested on his forearms either side of your head.

After what feels like a lifetime, feeling his cock continue to twitch within you, you crack open your eyes. You’ll never tire of seeing him like this. Fucked out with his hair damp against his temples, the muscles of his body contracting as he breathes heavily.

Idly, your fingers draw circles on his back. And it’s so soft and gentle that he shudders a little, picking himself up to look down at you. There he is. The husband you know and love.

You brush the back of your fingers against his face, the marred side. And his sapphire eye glints back at you.

“I am sorry, wife” he says suddenly.

Your movements cease, looking at him questioningly. But you do not question it.

“I have neglected you these past weeks” he confesses, as if being able to read you so well, “it has been unconsciously done…but it is no excuse.

I am sorry”

You’re a bit…stunned? If anything.

Aemond had always been proud. Proud of his heritage. Proud of his abilities. His talents.

He had never been one to admit his faults.

So for a moment his words hang in the air, until you find your voice again.

“Aemond…” you say, reaching up to his face. He sighs into your touch, “...I believe we have both been foolish. I am sorry also, for the anxiety I must have caused you”

He shakes his head softly.

“I only wished to get a reaction from you” you say, “But I am truly sorry for worrying you”

He huffs at that, looking down briefly to where you are still joined, “Perhaps you should do that more often” he jokes, and you swat his shoulder playfully.

His kiss is tender and he leans down, “shall we make up for lost time, Princess?” he asks.

You cock your head playfully as his hands glide over your torso to slide over your breast, squeezing gently.

“I’ll have you full of my heirs by daybreak” he growls.

You giggle at that, bringing him in for another kiss, “I look forward to it, my prince”

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moshpitgamma · 5 months

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My Sunflower|| John Dory x Fiancé!Reader

Warnings:Angst+Fluff

(This is my first real fanfic so Plss don’t be TOO harsh)

YALL ITS LONG OK😭

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“John! I’m home!” Said the exhausted troll walking through the door of their shared apartment. “Huh? Damn it’s 9pm.” Y/n said checking the time. “Hun, You here?” They screamed again wondering why their fiancé wasn’t answering. When they didn’t get a response they started to get anxious, but convinced themselves he went to either the studio or to hang out with his brothers.

The clock finally hits 11:03pm and still there isn’t a sign of JD. “Why isn’t he answering his phone?” You said with worry laced in your voice. His brothers also didn’t answer their phones for god knows what. Now you’re in full panic mode pacing back and forth in the dining room blowing UP his phone with messages and calls. After your many failed attempts of contacting him you finally decided to call the only person you KNEW that was gonna pick up. So you called his grandma.

Once she answered you tried to hide your anxiousness and your panicked voice, but she caught on to it quickly. “Hi Mrs. Rosie, do you know where John is? I haven’t spoke to him since this morning before I went to work.” You asked frantically hoping that she would cure the pulsating adrenaline going through your body. When you finished your nauseating questions the silence you both held was fueling it like you were going to burst. When the never ending silence finally came to an end a sigh was heard. "Hun Bun….JD left hours ago after their embarrassing show fail." she told you with reassurance and empathy. She then continued to tell you how and what happened between the brothers. The last thing you ever heard from her was “Sweetie just give it time.” So you waited…

And waited….

Until 20 years have passed and still no sign of John. You were invited to the royal wedding of King Grisel and Bridget and was currently trying to find a dress. While rampaging you closet like a mad woman you come across and unfamiliar bagged dress. When you took it out you stared at it with tears welling up in your eyes. It was your dress he proposed to you in. It was admired in jewels and yellow sunflower like petals and soft like satin and silk. It was one of a kind. Your debating stopped instantly and you proceeded to put on the dress.

FAST FORWARD TO WEDDING :>

“We are gathered here today t-.” “STOP THE WEDDING!” A random voice yelled…

You felt like your heart was going to jump out your chest from all the adrenaline rushing. Trying to force your tears down you finally built enough courage to turn around and look to where everyone else was looking. When you finally saw who it was your tears finally escaped their haunted and sorrowful chamber. He was there……

Standing in front of Branch?

Trying to pick him up?

You didn’t wanna get noticed in this state so you turned to leave but you felt a hand grab your flushed smaller ones. It was Branch..”Are you ok?”he asked knowing you weren’t. “I’m ok.” You said quickly dismissing his attempts of comfort. Before you could leave you heard a nickname you never knew you would hear again. “My sunflower?” He must’ve felt the tension he created so he hurried to you and begged you too listen to his explanations and excuses. You couldn’t do nothing, BUT listen so you gave him 3 minutes. “The reason I left was because Brozone was turning into a disaster and I needed to just space myself away for a while!”

You didn’t know whether to be mad or sad or HELL even glad but you knew he was trying to get you to understand. “But did you have to go?” Tears welling up..

Silence…….

“Did you have to leave me alone without telling me ANYTHING?!!?”

“I-“ you didn’t let him finish before you started walking off letting the emotions and realization sink in. He knew he fucked up… He couldn’t let you leave…. He needed his flower…He ran up to you and hugged you as hard as he could to prevent you from leaving and cried like hell was dragging him away from the heaven he created with you. “Sunflower PLEASE, I promise I’ll never leave you again!!” He repeated like his life depended on it. You slowly started to give in and soothed him. “Please Hun, I promise I’ll pro-“ He couldn’t even get done with his sentence before feeling the feeling he oh so missed….

Your lips…

“Please Don’t leave me again.” You said barely above a whisper and your teary E/C eyes looked at him.

He smiled warmly and responded with nothing but sincerity..”Of course not my sunflower.”

THE ENDDDDDDD☺️🫶🏿

#trolls #brozone #brozone x reader #trolls branch #john dory #John dory x reader #trolls john dory #trolls band together

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faeriichaii · 4 months

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There's just inches in between us ~ Thorin x Fem!Reader

A/N: Ok so I just am really obsessed with that one juicy part from the song shameless (I actually don't like the song I just literally listen to that one part on loop) and I immediately thought about Thorin so I guess that's his song now :p Also I literally never have written any kind of smut in my life before so this is totally new 😔😔 I really hope you guys like it!! And have fun 🥰

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Smut with plot (MDNI), Unprotected sex, Fingering Kinda enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, kinda fluff?? ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 4.1k (oops lmao) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: No :) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Amrâlimé ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You were the princess of another kingdom, meant to marry none other than the dwarven King Thorin from the lonely mountain. You rarely get the chance to talk to him and decide to visit him the night before the wedding, asking him to give you some attention.

The carriage, you were sitting in was rocking from side to side as you slowly approached your destination. Your hands holding tightly onto the dark green dress you were wearing. Gold details were stitched delicately on the upper half of the garment, making up swirls, as well as flowers. You tried to pretend to be listening to your father, who still was talking about your upcoming marriage. Arranged marriage. Your father set up an arranged marriage between your kingdom and Erebor. The thought of being wed to an unknown man made your stomach churn. “(Y/N) are you listening? This is very important for you to know and accept.” “My king, I apologize for my rudeness but I do not wish to hear anymore about this matter.” You were beyond upset and hurt about the decision your father, the king of Thuiniel, took without even your consent. It’s not like he needed consent. A warning would have been nice. Any kind of sign so you would have known that you will move away from home. So you would have known that you will no longer be a free woman and instead be the wife of another king. So you would have known that you will become a queen to an unknown kingdom.

Your fathers’ eyes mustered you sadly, understanding your attitude towards him. “(Y/N), I know you are hurt and I know you are mad at me, however you yourself know that it will be the best for the kingdom.” The kingdom. During the years, Thuiniel has seen and faced a major number of wars. Most of them went well for you, however nowadays the kingdom is in need of support from anyone they can get. Your two older sisters have been married for years to different parts of Middle-Earth, which resulted in an alliance between these three kingdoms. But even they can’t constantly send support towards Thuiniel. So your father decided to search for another alliance that can give him the resources he needs. And this resulted in you receiving the news just a week prior to the wedding.

A sigh left your lips as you looked out of the small window in the carriage. Trees were lining the path you were traveling on. Your gaze settled on the palace that was built deep into the mountain. “Do you know any important information about Erebor?” You asked your father, eyes still locked on your destination. Normally you would have looked into various books and scrolls in your library before travelling to another kingdom, but the news of your marriage shocked you so immensely, that you already despised everything that had anything to do with it. “Erebor is known for their massive mine, as well as the various jewels and gold they keep deep inside of the mountain.” A hum left your lips as you tried to remember the words you father continued to spill about your future kingdom.

A sudden jolt of the carriage made you realize that you just arrived at your destination. The wooden door opened as a hand was held inside. Your father stood up, took the hand and left you alone in the carriage. You took a deep breath before following your father out of the small compartment. Once outside, you looked around at the trees and the nature surrounding the palace, before focusing on your future home. Home. The thought left a bitter taste on your tongue. “King Thorin Oakenshield, it is very nice to make your acquaintance.” Your father said, before bowing down in front of a dwarf. “Let me introduce you to my lovely daughter, princess (Y/N). Your soon-to-be-wife.” Thorin looked at you before giving you a short nod. You bit your tongue, in order to not snap at his attitude towards you. Taking the material of your dress in your hand, you curtsied and whispered a soft ‘It is nice to make your acquaintance’ towards the king.

After the short introduction, you were shown around the castle as well as parts of the mine underground. The king however was not in attendance. Night approached quickly and you excused yourself after dinner to finally get some alone time in your chambers. On your way you stumbled upon the library of Erebor. Deciding to take a peek, you opened the door. Books and scrolls were lining the shelves of the room. A dwarf was in front of one of the shelves, his attention now on you instead of the book in his hands. “You must be our future queen. Welcome to the palace’s library.” He bowed down in front of you. “My name is Balin, how can I help you?” “Please just call me (Y/N). You smiled softly at the nice man. “I was wondering if you have any good books about Erebor? I should have informed myself about the kingdom before my arrival but I had… difficulties.” “Of course (Y/N). Let’s see…” He was walking around the room, taking the ladder attached to the shelf with him. “Ah this should be a good start.” His hands grabbed a thick leather-bound book that has the words ‘History of the lonely Mountain’ in gold etched into it. Taking it in your own hand you thanked him, before leaving and trying to find your chambers once more.

A yawn left your lips as you quietly ate your breakfast. You have read a little more than you would like to admit and totally forgot the time yesterday night. The history written down in the book completely captivating you. Your gaze fell from your father to the other few people who were chatting happily with each other, until your eyes stopped at the man who sat on your right. Your soon-to-be-husband. His hair was braided on each side of his face. You remember reading about some of the customs of dwarven culture and how important their hair (beard included) is to them. You take a sip of the tea that was specifically prepared for you, trying to stifle another yawn.

“Have you not slept enough?” Thorin asks from beside you his voice a slight hint of irritation. Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance at his question. “My apologies my king, I lost track of the time yesterday.” “What have you been reading?” Cutting into the eggs that were served in front of you, you took a big bite. “I have been reading about the History of Erebor. As a future Queen I would like to learn as much about my kingdom as I can.” “How come you did not study about the kingdom before your arrival?” Setting down your cutlery, you looked at him with annoyance. One of his eyebrows was raised as he waited for your answer. Was he mocking you? “I did not have enough time to remember all the details from Erebor. Especially because a certain someone wished for the marriage to happen as soon as possible.” Your father had told you that normally you would have a few months in advance to get to know your husband and roughly around a year for the marriage. However, Thorin apparently requested that the marriage happens as soon as possible, which resulted in the date being set in a month from now on. After hearing the news, you didn’t just simply dislike your husband but despised him. You still were mad at your father after he told you this new information yesterday, however your hate now mostly lay on Thorins shoulders.

The entire table was quiet as the air went heavy around the two of you. “The reason behind the date being set in a month is to ensure the safety of Thuiniel. Another war could be right around the corner and I would not wish to risk another empire be taken over by Orcs while I am getting married.” Anger flickered in his gaze. You continue eating your breakfast, not wanting to fuel the fire by arguing against the king. A sigh escaped your lips as you finally left the dinner room behind you, followed by your father. “(Y/N) we urgently need to talk.” He takes your arm and pulls you into his chambers. “Have you lost your mind?!” He angrily exclaims, flailing his arms around while walking up and down. “Father, I apologize but he just-“ “No! (Y/N) take a moment to think about your actions! Erebor was the best candidate for an alliance with our kingdom. This alliance can ensure the safety for several decades! You, arguing with the king, could result in him not being interested in the marriage anymore and Thuiniel falling into the hands of Orcs!” You bit down on your lip, as your head was lowered in shame. Your eyes focused on your shoes as you listened to your father’s rant.

He takes a deep breath, before walking towards you and taking your arms gently in his hands. “I know you are hurt and scared, but please please think about the wellbeing of Thuiniel.” A sigh left your lips. “I will father.” With that you left his chambers. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you searched the library, in order to take a good book with you and get your mind off of things. Upon entering the room, you could see Thorins back facing the door. Oh no. “Have you already found the scrolls Balin?” He asked, not looking up from the papers in his hands. You shifted from one foot to another as you decided if you should leave or stay. “I apologize my king, but I am not Balin. Listening to your voice, his eyes snapped up from the papers towards you. “How can I help you princess?” Biting down on your lip you thought a moment about what you should say in order to save the little chemistry you should have as the future royal couple. “I wanted to apologize for my behaviour earlier.” At that, Thorin lay his papers down, intently listening on what else you had to say. “I shouldn’t have reacted this way but neither did I expect a wedding announcement last week. I couldn’t prepare myself, neither did I get a proper chance on finding out who I am about to marry. It is a lot that suddenly falls on top of me and so many more things are piling up without a chance to properly think about anything to be honest.” You looked at the dwarf, who started to approach you. His gaze was locked on your eyes. His beautiful blue eyes. “One month will be enough time to get your head sorted through and get used to living in Erebor. We will get to know each other on the way there and you will learn how to be a queen.” He said, trying to reassure you. Gently, he takes your hand in his. Turning your palm upwards, he places something on top, before closing your fingers around it. “I also took the liberty of reading into your kingdom, Thuiniel, and the few customs you have. This is also the reason as to why I wanted the wedding to happen in a month. Your kingdom is in dire need of a strong alliance due to the wars that happened one after another and I can be of help. I never want to witness other kingdoms defeat due to an army of Orcs.” You blinked at the man in front of you, not exactly knowing how to respond to him. A smile stretched over your lips. “Thank you so much Thorin.” You left afterwards, heading towards your chambers. Opening your palm, you saw a small golden ring in your hand. Taking it between your fingers, you took a careful look of it. A green gem was present in the middle. Gold flowers were etched into each side of the gem, while a small diamond sat atop of the green one. The ring almost looked like a golden crown. Putting it on your ring finger you smiled softly. Maybe there was some hope.

The weeks passed in a storm and you got quite accustomed to living in Erebor. During your stay, you also got to know Thorins’ nephews Fili and Kili. Most of your time was spent with them, while they tell you all about how they got to win Erebor back with their uncle and several other dwarves. Balin also gave you some lessons on important things and events to know about Erebor as well as the dwarven culture. He emphasized on the fact that you have to offer Thorin a bead and braid a strand of his hair. “It will signify that he is a married dwarf and found his One.” He once said. One. It has been stuck in your mind for the past week. You wouldn’t call yourself his One. You haven’t even really gotten the chance to get to know him like he told you, so even if you were his One, you wouldn’t know. You did meet him more often than before however; the conversation was always kept to a minimum. The fact that he still is a mysterious man to you makes your heart twist painfully. You even knew Kilis and Filis entire live story by heart after just a week and can barely remember that he is also called Thorin Oakenshield? Unacceptable. And this is the sole reason as to why you are approaching his chambers after another uneventful day of you two only communicating for roughly ten minutes. Sitting on a chair by his desk, he raised an eyebrow at your intrusion.

“I thought I told you that if you needed anything, you can always ask Balin.” A sigh left your lips, as you made yourself comfortable on his bed. “Well Balin is not you now, is he?” Your arms were folded in front of you, gaze never leaving the king. “Listen Thorin, I have had enough. We barely talk with each other and I still only know your name. I don’t know anything about you and it annoys me. We are supposed to get married tomorrow and the only conversations we held was about sleep and our schedule of the day.” An exasperated sigh left his lips. “(Y/N) I really can’t deal with this or with you right now.” “Excuse me?” One of your eyebrows was raised as the words Thorin just muttered reverberate in your head. Anger slowly started to build up inside of you at his uncalled attitude.

“I think one month should have been enough time to get your head sorted through.” You spat at him. His eyes squint together, ready to say more but you cut him off. “You can’t constantly keep pushing me away. We have to share a lifetime together, if you want to or not. Just because you constantly find excuses to leave me behind and continue to do whatever else doesn’t mean-“ “Whatever else? I am trying to safe your kingdom! Your home!” “This is my home!” You yelled at him, face slightly tinted red. Even if you only have been in Erebor for roughly a month, you already accepted and loved it like it was your home. Which it was. “I love Thuiniel, but it is no longer my home. My father sent me here to marry you and get used to living in Erebor. Thuiniel is not as helpless as you make it out to be. My brother is the one in charge while my father is still here, waiting for the marriage to be fulfilled. My brother is capable of taking care of it and even if he needs help, we have other alliances and not just Erebor.” You take a breath to calm yourself down. “As a king you should not just take care of the kingdom but also of the people surrounding you. And for the time being I must admit, you are a bad king to me.” Thorin approaches you with a few quick strides. His hands lowered on each side of your thighs as he leaned into your personal space. “You dare to call me a bad king? Just because I don’t give you the attention you so desperately need?” His hot breath made your cheeks warm up. Eyes wide you stare into his blue ones, that shine with an unknown fire. You were about to say something, however the lump in your throat prevented you from muttering anything.

“You want attention princess? You shall get it.” His hand moved towards your face, pulling you towards his lips. Shocked at the sudden movement you gasped softly. Thorin took this as an invitation and deepened the kiss. You slowly started to relax into his arms, as you wrapped your hands around his neck. Your mind still was a jumbled mess, however your body was in dire need of his touch as well as his warmth.

Untangling your arms from his neck, you moved up the bed, towards the headboard. Thorin followed you, never once breaking the kiss. His warm hand travelling toward your neck, while his other hand grasped onto your thigh. He somehow managed to position himself between your legs. Breaking apart from the kiss, the both of you had to catch your breath, red cheeks and eyes glazed over with a burning passion. “How much of my attention do you want?” Thorin asked, voice slightly deeper than normal. “I wish to have all of it.” Your hand gently held the side of his face, thumb stroking his rosy cheek. Eyes flitting from his eyes to his lips, you leaned towards him, pulling him into another passionate kiss. Tongues were entangling into each other while your fingers played with the strands of his hair. He moved from your lips across your face, towards your neck. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt his teeth sink into the skin beneath your jaw, marking you. His big hands travelled from your waist to your dressed boobs. Moving his head from your neck, he looked at your dress. “Turn around Amrâlimé. So I can undo your dress.” He quickly moved aside, as you turned around and let him unravel the corset. His fingers brushed against your back as you wished they would continue to travel along your body. “Stand up.” He ordered and you willingly complied. The sleeves of the dress travelled down, as the bodice slowly also moved to the floor, until you were only left in your panties.

“My beautiful queen.” He stood up from the bed and pulled you in by your waist. Your hands desperately grasping onto his neck, as he sat down on the plush mattress, making you straddle him. You felt his hard cock rub against the inside of your thigh. A soft moan escaped your lips. You wanted him. You needed him. Thorins hands slowly moved towards your breasts. Taking your nipples between his fingers he rolled them around. You leaned into his touch as you held onto his shoulders for some stability. Pants left your lips as you decided to grind on his cock, desperate for any kind of friction. Thorin let out a grunt, focussing on your left nipple with his left hand, while his lips rapped around the right one. A moan leaving your lips as his tongue flicked over it. After a few seconds he switched sides. The fingers of his right hand left a ghostly trail behind as they moved towards your awaiting core. Pushing your panties aside, his fingers moved through your wet folds.

A chuckle left his lips. “You really love my attention, don’t you?” The only thing you could do was nod, as he drew soft circles on your clit, making you immediately stop your grinding on his clothed dick. “I need a verbal response my queen.” He stopped moving his fingers around, making you whine at the loss. “Yes. Please.” A smirk was present on his lips as he left gentle kisses on your jaw. “Please what?” He teased as he continued to rub small circles. “Thorin I want you. I want your attention please.” As soon as these words left your lips you were thrown on the bed. Your legs were parted as Thorin began to undress himself. You watched his fingers work to undo the buttons of his shirt before pulling it over his head. Sitting up you let your hands travel from his broad shoulders, over his hairy chest and down his abs until they arrived at the happy trail that led to his hard cock. You slowly undid the button on his pants, before pulling them down together with his underwear. His dick sprung free. He was thick and hard, some precum already leaking from his tip. You carefully wrapped your hand around him, making him sigh contentedly at your touch. He felt warm and heavy around your fingers. You couldn’t even close your hand properly at his thickness. Moving your hand up and down slowly you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“My king, do you crave my attention as much as I crave yours?” You asked him, sweetly tilting your head to the side still holding onto him. “Yes. Yes I do Amrâlimé.” His hands grasped your shoulders, as he pushed you down on the matress. He spread your legs further apart, before taking off your panties and stepping between your legs. Goosebumps spread across your arms as your wet cunt was hit by the cold air. Thorins fingers immediately worked towards your core. You moaned as he let one of his fingers enter you. He pumped his digit inside you a few times before adding another finger. Your hands held onto his biceps as you felt his fingers curl up inside of you. His lips were on yours as he swallowed your desperate and high-pitched moans. The heat in your lower stomach made your toes curl as you slowly felt the familiar sensation approach. Suddenly it all was gone as Thorin pulled his fingers from you. You pouted at him sadly. “I want you to cum on my dick, not on my fingers.” He said, taking his dick in his hands and moving the tip between your folds. “Thorin.” You gasped as he made contact with your swollen clit. “Please.” You begged him. “What do you want my queen?”

His hands were holding you down by the waist, stopping you from moving around anymore. “I want you inside of me please. I want to feel you.” With that, Thorin lined the tip of his cock up with your entrance. Slowly he pushed inside. Your walls tightened around him making him groan out. A gasp escaped your lips at the slight burning sensation of the stretch inside you. He was big and you really felt it. Your hands held him close by his back, as he started to move inside you. Your spongey walls welcoming him in with every thrust he does. Your moans, mixed with his own grunts, echoed from the walls of his chambers. Each thrust made you feel closer to him and closer to heaven. His lips were on yours again, swallowing each sound you make. Warmth spread through your whole body as you felt the knot tighten in your lower regions. Thorin grabbed your thighs and bend them towards your shoulders. Loud moans escaped your lips at the new angle. His cock throbbing inside of you while your walls tightened around him. You knew you were close and so did he. Hence his finger moved toward your swollen clit. “Cum for me my queen. Cum on my dick.” You gasped at his words. The knot in your lower region came undone as you felt the bliss of your orgasm wash over you. Your nails still digging into Thorins back as he increased the speed of his thrusts until you felt his dick twitch before his warm cum filled you up.

After a few moments of still moving inside you he pulled out, making his cum drip out of your hole. He used his thumb to push his cum back into you. You moved your body properly on the bed, before hiding under the covers. Blush still visible. A chuckle left Thorins lips as he joined you under the covers. “This isn’t exactly what I meant earlier.” You mumbled, face still hidden partly by the blanket. He softly put a strand behind your ear, letting his hand stroke your cheek gently. “I promise you, we will have plenty of time to get to know each other. We will learn to love each other and I certainly will learn to give you the attention you need and deserve Amrâlimé.” He planted a soft kiss on your forehead. Maybe the both of you really have the potential to be the missing puzzle pieces for each other. The Ones you need.

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sachiko1309 · 3 months

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The Kings plaything - Part 2/2

Summary: After the dwarves have been imprisoned, Thranduil wants to take care of his wife, but gets interrupted by their escape. After deciding to come to their aid at the reclaiming of Erebor, he finally gets to have his wife, more than once...

Word count: 11965

Warnings: smut, rough, Dom! Thranduil, sub! reader, oral both receiving, gem play, dirty talk, slight BDSM, slight battle descriptions, Minors DNI this contains adult content!

Part 1:

“You know what I was thinking about?” My husband asked, still holding me tightly to his chest in the bathtub. It was a big bathtub, embedded in the ground, big enough for me not to fully reach the ground, or touch the edges, when I was in the middle.

Letting my head roll back on his shoulders, I opened my body further to his touches. “That you are incredible greedy and cant let go of your wife?” I teased, watching his hands roam over my body. He chuckled at my words, rolling my nipples between his fingers. “Something of that sort, yes.” He answered, his voice nearly drowned out from my moan. “But it does not seem to be a complaint of yours.”

“The day I complain about your touches, is the day I have reached insanity.” I simply stated, pressing my back against his body. “Promising words to hear from your mouth, little petal.” He murmured into my ear. I turned around, straddling him. His eyes twitched, when my core touched his hard member, the light in his blue orbs turning lustful. “What is it, that crossed your mind, herven?”

“Remember what the dwarf said?” He asked, a sly smirk on his lips.

“He said a lot.” I simply stated, raising an eyebrow at my husbands antics. The smirk on his lips just grew bolder, reaching his eyes. “That he did… But I was referring to the idea he gave me.” Thranduil whispered lowly, still not clarifying what he meant.

“An idea of what sorts?” I pressed on. Thranduil just lifting me up, until I sat on the stone edge of the tub. Luckily the floor was warm, heated through a complicated system of hot water running below.

I looked at my husband confused, who stood in the water, covered up to his chest. His hair neatly pinned to his head with needles and rods, he looked at me. Lifting himself out of the water, he walked through the room towards his little secret wardrobe where he kept his most worn jewels. I watched as the water ran down his body in little droplets, the sun reflecting in everyone of them, giving my husband an even more ethereal look. He turned around holding something in his hands.

Letting himself sink into the water, he walked up to me, putting something on my stomach. I gasped in shock, realizing what it was. It was one of his bigger white gemstones that he usually wore on a clasp. He must have taken it off and now it was roughly the size of two or three curled fingers. “You are mad!” I breathed out, watching the grin form on my husbands face in shock.

“Maybe.” He admitted. “Lean back, meleth.” Softly pushing me back down, his eyes raking over my body. Shaking my head, I sunk back. If my husband had set his mind upon something, there was almost nothing that could force him away from his path. And only seconds later, I could feel the cold stone press against my folds and making its way into my body. It was a weird but fulfilling feeling, and I let out a soft gasp.

“Spread your legs.” Thranduil softly ordered, his fingers ghosting over my body. I did what he wanted, now laying fully open for him to see. Propping myself up on my elbows, I watched him. “You look so beautiful.” He whispered, touching every inch of my body. “So, so beautiful…” Then his gaze wandered to my face. “I will have someone make more gemstones for you to wear.”

“I already have so many.” I argued, but he shook his head. “I am not talking about those, little petal.” A sly smirk sunk on his features, the arrogance in his eyes nearly swallowing me whole.

A sudden knock on the door made his head snap around. Heaving himself out of the water, he wrapped a cloak around him, answering the door, without opening it too far. “What?” His sharp tone made even me flinch and I felt sorry for whatever soldier had to endure his wrath now…

“I am so sorry, my king. But… But the dwarves. They have escaped.” Came the silent voice from Feren and I rose to my feet as well. The stone sitting inside me, now weighing down, threatening to fall out of me. I clenched my walls, slowly walking towards my cloak to get dressed as well. After I was dressed decent enough, I joined my husband at the door, then pressing out to take a seat in one of the chairs to find some sort of relief. Sitting down however was another story, because the new position caused the stone to massage my walls again.

Just fast enough to suppress a moan, I listened in on Feren explaining what had happened. The longer he talked, the more the expression on my husband changed from annoyed to amused, until he even wore a small grin on his lips. “That filthy little hobbit…” He murmured, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I just tilted my head. “Seems like they are very persistent in getting back that mountain. We might as well grand them some aid.”

Thranduil sighed deeply at my words: “We shall see if they manage to get to the mountain and then we shall decide whether to come to their aid or not.” I didn’t complain about his statement, knowing that this was the closest I would get him right now to grand anything. Feren looked at me with a smirk, silently shaking his head. I just winked at him, knowing full well that he was mostly amused by the way I simply held Thranduil in check.

***

It did indeed not take long until we received word of the dwarves reclaiming Erebor, unleashing the fire of Smaug upon the small village of Laketown. That’s when I raced to my husband, finding him already discussing details with Feren. “Herven…” I breathed out, sucking in the air into my lungs from my long race. “The dwarves… Laketown… It got destroyed. We must help.” Thranduil quickly rushed towards me, taking the scroll out of my hand and steadying my body. “Careful, meleth. Please sit down. We are already discussing how to help them.”

I gladly took the chair and water that I was brought, then taking a look on the map and all the little figures standing in to represent war strategics. It did indeed not take us long to figure out what to do, most of the work already having been done by my husband and Feren before I even reached them.

And when Thranduil gave the orders to his people to get ready, I also rushed towards our chambers, packing my armor and spare clothes as well as my weapons. “Ithil, what are you doing?” The voice of my husband interrupted me in my doings and I turned around, two daggers in my hand. “I am getting ready to accompany you.” A soft smile spread across his lips. “No you don’t. You have to stay here and rule the kingdom while I am gone.”

I shook my head. “You know that’s not happening. Through good and bad. Remember?” Turning, I kept on packing my things, until his warm arms wrapped around me, holding my hands in place. “I will not let any harm come to you.” But I interrupted him: “You said yourself it would be easy to reclaim those jewels. What are you fearing that you are not telling me, herven?”

“Nothing my dear. I just want to spare you from the sights of a battle field.” He argued back, loosening his grip around me. I turned in his arms. “I have had a life before you. I have seen battle. Let me ride with you. We both know that I am a good fighter. Not as great as you, but I can take on your son with ease.”

He smiled at those words, and I knew it wouldn’t take much more for me to convince him. “It is true that you can stand against my son, but still…”

“No buts, herven. I will accompany you and that’s my last word.”

Sighing deeply, he shook his head, letting go of me. “As you wish, meleth. Just promise me to stay at my side and be careful.” I kissed him on his chest, not reaching much higher with him standing at full height of nearly 7ft. “I always am. We don’t want you to succumb back to your cold self, do we?” He raised an eyebrow, bending down to me: “A kiss to the chest is all I get after letting you accompany me into battle? I think I deserve way more than that.”

Seeing the jest in his eyes, instead of giving him a real kiss, I sunk to my knees. “I think you do. How about you make me show you how good I am at following your orders?” Looking at him through my lashes, I started to softly palm his cock through the fabric, feeling him already growing hard under my touch. Thranduils smile grew wicked, but he kept his composure: “Would this have been your last resort if I had not agreed to you riding with me?” I tilted my head, slowly opening the strings of his pants. “Maybe. Who knows…?”

“Open your mouth!” He growled and I did what I was told. He easily held my head while he pushed his member down my throat, beginning to fuck my mouth in a slow teasing pace. His thrusts were controlled but hard, making me gag, but I managed to suppress the urge to vomit. “By Valar… You look so good with your lips wrapped around my cock, pin iell. Taking your kings cock so obediently down your throat.” I let out a strangled moan and clutched the hand that held my head.

“You like this, do you?” He teased, shoving my head down on his cock until my nose was pushed against his pelvis. “Sucking on my cock like the greedy little whore you are, serving me as the good girl I trained you to be. I should really take you in front of others more often. It seems to make you even more obedient than I thought it would.” Ripping my head back, he allowed me to breathe, the sudden overflow of air making my head spin and I had to close my eyes to regain some control.

“Look at me!” A sharp pain shot through my cheek and I opened my eyes again. Instantly my body screamed for more, the pleasure of the pain immediately shooting down to my core. I closed my eyes again, not before winking at him. I felt his hand land on my cheek again, forcing a mewled sound to leave my mouth. “Don’t tell me you like this…” He muttered in shock, the grasp in my hair softening a bit. I looked away in shame. “I do… More than I should…”

“Fuck…” He growled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know… I didn’t… I didn’t want you to think of me badly. What you give me is already enough, I didn’t want to sound greedy and demanding…” Whispering, I looked to the floor, not finding the strength to stand under his gaze. His demeanor completely shifted after my confession, a soft stroke to my cheek making me look up to him, nearly being kicked out of reality by the love and passion in his blue hues. “You never have to feel guilty about asking me for something, you hear my meleth? I wish to fulfill any desire of you, please don’t deny me that honor.” His smile grew cocky with his next words: “Besides, I love my wife to be greedy and insatiable. It brings great pleasure to me, knowing that you love to be taken and used…”

I just stared at him, my mind reeling over the things I wanted to say, but I was incapable of wording my thoughts. Thranduil just cocked his head, the grip on my head growing stronger again. “Tell me, little starlight. Do you want me to be rougher with you. Use you even more to my pleasure?”

“Yes…” I whimpered silently, not bringing the strength to speak up. He tapped my lips with his thumb. “Yes what?”

“Yes, my king. I want you to use me. To be your little whore. That you take me at your will, please, herven. Have me.” I begged, my eyes conveying the desperate need I felt pooling between my legs. He hesitated for a moment, but then he used his forefinger and thumb to squeeze my mouth open, thrusting back down my throat without a warning.

A moan escaped me, as he picked up fucking my mouth to his pleasure. This time he was rougher, holding my head in place with one hand, while the other wiped away the tears that rolled down my cheeks. Drool started to drip down my chin and I tried to breath through my nose. His cock kept thrusting deep into my throat, causing me to gag, but he didn’t care. “Just like that. Be my little slut.” He praised me, his head rolling back on his shoulders.

I hummed with pleasure at his words, feeling the wetness pool between my legs, surely making a mess inside my pants. Thranduils movements were methodical and strong, barely giving me any room to relax or breathe, but it felt way to good for me to complain. The feeling of his cock laying heavy on my tongue the salty taste of his precum showing his pleasure. I felt like I was in heaven. But it was over way to quickly. Pulling me back from his cock, he pulled me to my feet handling me through the room and bending me over a shelf that was at my hips height.

Pushing me down on the wooden surface, he arched my back, forcing me to turn my head and look at him. “If you keep that work up, I wont be able to please you, bereth.”

“Yes please…” I whimpered, getting up on my toes to give him a better angle to thrust into my pussy. “Take me, please, just take me. I need you herven.” He didn’t need to be told twice, without a warning, he forced my knees apart and thrusted into me. I cried out in shock and pleasure as my walls were stretched so unexpectedly, but Thranduil didn’t react. Forcefully he pushed my hips into the position he wanted me to be in and held me down.

“If you are begging me to take you, you better live with the consequences.” He growled into my ear, setting a reckless pace. “You will take what I give you, like the good little whore you are. And you don’t come until I allow you to, understand?”

“Yes, my king.” I whimpered, trying to flee his hard grip, but there was nowhere to go but just take it. Tears started to form in my eyes once more, running down my cheeks. But Thranduil didn’t even think about giving me any mercy. “You brought this upon yourself. Now be a good girl and let me use you. You know your safe words, use them if you want out, but don’t think your crying will make me feel sorry.” He hissed close to my ear, giving my hair a harsh tug, so that I had to arch my back even further.

The new angle allowed him to fuck me deeper and much more intimately than before, making me see stars in seconds. His grip tightened around my hip, once he felt myself spasm around his cock, keeping me on my toes, while his hand in my hair kept my upper body pressed against his chest. The position was anything but comfortable and yet it gave me a kind of relief that I had never experienced before.

“Im mel cin.” He whispered into my ear. “More than anything in the world, you hear me?” I whimpered as a response, pressing myself even closer to him. His utter dominance leaving me breathless and overwhelmed and I hadn’t even realized how fucked out my body already was. But Thranduil just kept talking in the sweetest voice to me, while he literally took advantage of my body and his strength compared to mine. “You are the best thing that happened to me in my life. And I will never let any harm come to you. I have promised to protect and love you with all my heart and lightening shall strike me if I ever deviate from that path. Nothing shall ever come between us, my little starlight.”

I couldn’t help the emotional wave that his words triggered, beginning to cry uncontrollably in his arms, as my body continued to react to his touch. The cliff between emotional relieve and physical desire completely throwing me of my course. My legs began to give in, as my whole body started to shake and spasm, walls flickering around his cock uncontrollably. “Thranduil… Please…” I pressed out, incapable of formulating a straight sentence, as my orgasm approached me in big steps.

To my luck, he understood what I wanted from him, loosening the grip on my hair. Slowly he let me sink down onto the shelf, stroking my back with soft little touches. “Go on, meleth. Come for me. Let me feel that pussy grip my cock while you scream my name.” As soon as the words left his mouth, I broke. My orgasm shook me to the core, his name ringing through the room in a mixture of scream and moan. I tried to hold onto something, but there was nothing besides the wood I was pressed upon and his hand gently drawing shapes on my back.

Thranduil didn’t even seem like he had enough, he kept thrusting into me at the same pace as before, still holding me down with one hand. Now his free hand wandered to my throat, playing with it. “Open up for me.” He growled silently and I could hear the strain in his voice indicating that he did indeed hold back for me. Opening my lips, I let him force down his long digits into my throat, so far that it made me involuntarily gag. His fingers were long enough to cut the airflow to my lungs, leaving me breathless once again, as the tingly feeling in my core rose again.

At varying intervals, he took his fingers out of my throat and shoved them back down again, controlling the way I breathed and how much air I was allowed. My vision grew blurry and I started to perceive everything else more intensely and if he knew it, he let go of my hips, hugging it and pressing two fingers on my clit. He turned my head with his fingers in my mouth, forcing me to look at him, as he began to teasingly paint little circles on my most sensitive spot, grinning down at me like a predator. I began to spasm around his cock once again.

“Fuck… How I love this…” He murmured, his jaw clenching in determination. “The way your body reacts to me… How it twitched underneath me, no chance to avoid me. It makes me hard just thinking about that, but feeling it… That is so much better. And those very little moments are everything to me. Give me the uttermost satisfaction that I own you and all I have to do to have this pleasure is give one single command and you will kneel in front of me, ready to take what I give you.” He was visibly affected by his actions, sweat dripping from his forehead. His breathing was shallow and I wondered for a short moment, how he was still able to keep his pace and speak to me that powerfully.

I whimpered against his fingers in my mouth, bucking against his hips. “Take it easy, myril. I will guide you.” He whispered and I did. Letting go completely, I only focused on the feelings he made me feel. That hot ache in my stomach slowly spread through my body, taking hold of every string of my being. I clenched around his member, the air deprivation leaving its traces, causing him to momentarily lose the rhythm of his fingers.

Although his movements had lost their methodical rhythm, he was still able to hit my sweet spot and in conjunction with his fingers, that drove me further up the cliff to my orgasm. When he pulled back his fingers once more, I begged: “Please… Thranduil… I need to come. Please. I cant hold it anymore. Please let me come.” Without answering, he slowly pushed his fingers back down my throat, not letting his gaze slip away from my eyes. I was caught by his blue hues, pulled into his soul as he spoke to me with the softest of voices I had ever heard: “Now, meleth. Come now. One last time.”

I closed my eyes, letting the orgasm wash over my body. Whimpering and twitching I came undone again. I was completely drained, mentally as well as physically. Collapsing down onto the shelf, I wasn’t able to hold me up again, only his arm around my waist keeping me in place. With the last mental capacity, I felt him twitch inside of me, pouring his seed deep into my pussy, while he leaned over me, smothering my back and neck with gently little kisses. “Thank you, meleth. You did so well. Took me so so good.” He whispered into my ear, before he carefully pulled out and let me sink to the ground.

Then he picked me up, holding me close to his chest, while he walked towards the bathroom. “Lets get you cleaned up and relaxed one last time, before we leave for battle.”

I sat in front of Thranduil, securely wrapped inside his cloak on his elk Moose. We were riding through the ruins of Dale. The golden armor of the elven soldiers shining in the bright winter sun. Suddenly there was movement in one block, a slight rift being made for a darkhaired well looking man to step through. He eyed the elves around him carefully, making his way through the soldiers. Stopping in front of him, he looked at my husband: “My lord Thranduil. We did not look to see you here.”

“I heard you needed aid.” Thranduil said, pointing towards the wagon with food behind him. Quickly the hungry and traumatized faces around us lit up, making a ring around the food to get their fair share. I couldn’t help but feel horrible to see so many people in need, only able to imagine the horrors they must have faced. I jumped down from Moose, instantly regretting it, as the cold made its way through my thick robes. Climbing on the wagon myself, I started to give out food, much to the surprise of my people and Thranduils amusement.

“You have saved us. I do not know how to thank you.” I heard the dark haired man say. But my husband, the stiff man he was around others dismissed his gratitude rather quickly: “Your gratitude is misplaced. I did not come on your behalf. I came to reclaim something of mine. There are stones in that mountain that have been stolen from me.” With a nod of his head, he ordered his army to march towards the mountain, riding Moose with his people.

The other man ran behind my husband, calling out for him: “Wait. Please wait!” Thranduil did indeed stop, turning his head ever so slightly towards the human next to him. “You would go to war over a handful of gems?”

Without looking at him, Thranduil answered: “The heirlooms of my people are not likely forsaken.”

“We are allies in this.” The man pleaded, rougher this time. “My people also have a claim over the riches of this mountain. Let me speak with Thorin.” That made Thranduils head turn and even though I was not able to see his face, I knew the questioning look on his face far to well. “You would try to reason with the dwarf?”

“To avoid war? Yes.” Came the simple answer.

***

Some time later, I found myself in Thranduils tent, desperately wrapping his cloak around my shoulders to find at least some warmth against the cold air. Usually elves weren’t as affected by the cold than humans were, so my husband quickly gave me his robes when he saw me freezing. But I was an exception to that. My long life in Rivendell making me rather fragile against the cold. “Meleth.” Thranduil pleaded. “You should have stayed home.”

“And let you ride to war alone? Nonsense. I will grow accustom to this weather. I am an elf after all. This should not bother me to that extent it does.” I argued back, earning a low huff from my husband. Our discussion was quickly interrupted, before he could retort anything. Gandalf and the human man that I learned to be Bard stepping inside the tent.

“You must set aside your petty grievances with the dwarves. War is coming. The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You are all in mortal danger!” Gandalf thundered through the tent, making me, Bard and even Thranduil flinch at his words. Bard stepped forward. “What are you talking about?”

“I can see you know nothing of wizards.” My husband rose from his seat. “They are like winter thunder on a wild wind, rolling in from a distance, breaking hard in alarm.” He handed a goblet of wine to Bard and then to me, before he poured himself one as well. “But sometimes, a storm is just a storm.” He said, looking Gandalf straight into the eyes.

“Not this time.” The old wizard held against. “Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters. They have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.”

“You should listen to him.” I threw in, watching my husband over the edge of my goblet. He sighed, walking closer to me. Bard suddenly snapped his head around, looking at me, as if he was only now realizing, I was in the tent as well. “And who are you?” He asked, a curious look on his face. “Clearly no elf. You are far to small. But you are not one of my people. I know them all by name.” I chuckled as his words, striking aside the high collar of my husbands cloak that hid my ears.

“I am an elf.” I answered holding out my hand. “Elanore. Thranduils wife.” Bard stared at me with wide eyes, bowing his head rather than taking my hand. “Your majesty. I am sorry. I did not know…” I interrupted him. “Fear not, my friend. How could you? I have never been to your lands, nor have you been to mine.” Taking my hand, Bard offered me a smile, that was soon disrupted, by Thranduil grabbing me and simply pulling me into his arms. “Why show his hand now?” My husband asked, turning back to Gandalf, his eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and arrogance.

“Because we forced him. We forced him, when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland. The dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor.” Gandalf said, walking out of the tent, expecting us to follow him. “Azog the defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control over the mountain. Not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies. Its strategic position.” We were now standing on a small platform, watching over the mountain. A harsh wind howling through the ruins around us. “This is the gateway of reclaiming the lands of Angmar in the north. If that fell kingdom should rise again… Rivendell, Lorien, the Shire. Even Gondor itself will fall.”

My face contorted in fear, thinking of Elrond and Arwen and all the other elves I once called my people. My husband was a bit better in keeping his face in check, but I knew from the look in his eyes that he was also very fearful of what was about to become. “This orc armies you are speaking off, Mithrandir. Where are they?” Gandalf just sighed deeply, his eyes giving answer enough.

***

“Since when has my council counted for so little? What do you think I am trying to do?” Gandalf and Thranduil where discussing for a while now and I had retreated to the fire of the tent, not really wanting to take part in it.

“I am thinking you are trying to save your dwarves friends. And I admire your loyalty to them. But it does not persuade me from my course. You started this Mithrandir; you will forgive me if I finish it.” Then he walked out of the tent. “Are the archers in position?”

“Yes, my lord.” An elven commander stepped in front of my husband, who stood there rigid as ever. “Give the order. If anything moves on that mountain, kill it.” The Commander left in a hurry, Thranduil mumbling to himself: “The dwarves are out of time.”

“Herven!” I intervened. “You can not just kill them!” Rising from my seat next to the fire, I stepped towards him, but he was unmoving: “I can and I will. They have been offered help and a treaty. And still. They fled our borders, spat on my late wife, and insulted you in front of all my people. I will not have them disregard my warnings and not pay the prize for it.”

“You heard what Gandalf said! War is coming. We should stand together. Fight the army of orcs and then we can discuss the matter of those stones.” I pleaded, but to no avail. Thranduil simply scoffing, before he wanted to speak again.

But a little hobbit racing into the tent, interrupted him: “If you think, the dwarves will surrender, they wont. They will fight to the death to defend their own.”

Gandalfs eyes lit up: “Bilbo Baggins.”

But my husband just threw a look at the hobbit that would have scared the fiercest of men. “If I am not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.” Taking a seat, he signaled me to come over, propping me up on his lap. I watched, as Bilbo looked to the floor in a mixture of sheepish naivety and regret. “Yes…” He gritted out. “Sorry about that.” Bard and Gandalf wore a smile on their lips, and I could help myself but giggle.

“I came to give you this.” Bilbo said, stepping forward and opening up a leather package. Inside of it there was a stone of the size of a fist, sparkling and glowing by itself. Thranduil rose from his seat again, holding me close to him, as he inspected the offer in front of him. “The heart of the mountain. The kings jewel.”

Bard stepped next to him. “And worth a kings ransom. How is this yours to give?” He asked looking at Bilbo, who just shrugged as if it was not a big deal. “I took it as the 14th share of my treasure.”

“Why would you do this?” Bard pressed further. “You owe us no loyalty.”

“I am not doing it for you.” Bilbo shook his head. “I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pig headed and difficult. Suspicious and secretive with the worse manners you can possible imagine, but they are also brave, and kind and loyal to a fault. I have grown very fond of them and I would save them if I can. Now, Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you what you are owed. There would be no need for war.”

Thranduil and Bard looked at each other, a silent agreement being formed between the two men.

***

The next morning, I found myself on a horse, clothed in armor. My sword and bow weighing heavily on my body, as I stood besides Thranduil. Suddenly another army appeared behind us. Orders being yelled in Khuzdul. Thranduil quickly turned Moose around riding through the path that was created by his soldiers. I followed him as fast as I could. “Ribo i thangail!” He yelled, ordering them to form a second shield wall towards the back.

Immediately the army moved in their positions in unison, shielding itself against the outside. I was now next to my husband, facing the dwarf that came riding towards us on his war pig. “Ai, Thorin. Ironfoot has come.” He yelled out, waving his hammer above his head. “Good morning. How are we all?” The dwarf asked, stopping a bit away from us on the slope of the hill on top of a big stone. “I have a proposition, if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of your time. Would you consider, just vanishing? All of you! Right now!”

“Stand fast!” Bard ordered his people that were standing between the elven lines.

“Come now, lord Dean.” Gandalf began, walking towards the dwarven Lord.

“Gandalf the grey…” He was greeted. “Tell this rubble to leave, or I will water the ground with their blood.” Gandalf did not stray from his path, angrily hitting his walking stick on the ground. “There is no need for war between dwarfs, men and elves. Aliened orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down.”

“I will not stand down before any elf.” Dean answered. “Certainly not before that faithless woodland sprite. He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he choses to stand between me and my kin, I will split his pretty head open. See if he is still smirking then!” Turning around his pig, he rode back to his army and I couldn’t help myself but laugh. “You have to leave it to them. Their insults are quite the charmer.”

Thranduil just rolled his eyes, but I could see his lips twitch a bit. “Let them advance. See how far they get.” In the distance Dean turned on his pig: “You think I would give a dead dog for your threats, you pointy eared princess? I have heard how you prefer to fuck your wife rather than help my kin. You hear that, lads? We are on! Lets give these bastards a good hammering!” His army yelling war cries in Khuzul over the distance.

Thranduil signaled his army to march, riding towards Bard: “Stand your men down, I will deal with Ironfoot and his rubble.” Before us the dwarven army split a horde of goats riding to the front. “Prepare your bows!” Thranduil yelled, the elves drawing their weapons in unison. I as well aimed for the dwarves, even though I did not really want to fight them. But the goats came rushing towards us with full speed. “Shoot!” Came the order from my husband, and I let the first arrow fly through the air, followed by the many others of my people.

Dean yelled something in Khuzul and several rotating arrows made their way, slicing ours in the air and forcing us back when the hit the ground. “How do you like that, you old twidledy whirlies?”

And then the war began. The army sorted itself new, building a shield front behind which I steered my horse around, looking out for a better angle to shoot. But all of the sudden, the floor began to rumble in the distance. Everyone stopped their fights, turning to look at the hill. And what I saw made my blood freeze on the spot. Wereworms I thought to myself. Watching in fear as the big long tentacles burst through the grounds.

The orc horn ringing from the Ravenhill was signaling the arrival of Azog the defiler. “Come forth, my armies!” Azog yelled in the black speech. His words alone sending shivers down my spine. The dwarves immediately turned their back on us, facing the new enemy with great fierceness. I looked at my husband, who just staired at the hill in disbelief and I knew he was not able to give orders. “Pada godref! Dag i glam!” I yelled, riding with the dwarves as well. The elven army immediately started to move, racing after the dwarfs and the battle of the five armies began.

***

At the side of Thranduil we searched through the Ravenhill, turning every body to see, if it was Legolas. Suddenly he came walking around a corner, stopping when he saw us. But I couldn’t help myself. Racing towards him, I pulled the taller elf into a hug, forcing him to bend down to accommodate my arms. “Legolas!” I yelled out. “I was worried sick. I thought… I thought you were dead…” Crying into his shoulder I held him closely not wanting to let go of him. He patted my back awkwardly. “Its alright, naneth. I am alive. There is nothing you need to worry about.”

“Nothing I need to worry about?” I let go of him, smacking him across the head. “You left to accompany the dwarves. No letter, no warning nothing. And the next thing I hear is you scouting out Dol Guldur with Tauriel and fighting here against Borg. There is quite a lot I had to worry about! Speaking of Tauriel. Where even is she?”

That made Legolas look to the side and I feared the worse. “She is out on the platform.” Was all he said, before he walked passed me, slowing in front of his father. “I cannot go back. At least not for a while.” Thranduils shoulders tensed, the blue eyes filling with worry and regret: “Where will you go?”

Legolas stopped and turned back to look at us: “I do not know.”

“Go north. Find the Dunedain. There is a young ranger amongst them. You should meet him. His father Arathorn was a good man, his son might grow to be a great one.” My husband turned, reaching out for my hand, pulling me to his side as comfort. Legolas smiled sadly while looking at us, before he averted his gaze: “What is his name?”

“He is known in the wild as strider. His true name, you must discover for yourself.” Watching as Legolas walked away, I nudged my husband, who immediately got the hint. “Legolas, you mother loved you. More than anyone. More than life.” Stiffly bowing towards his son, he nearly missed the outreached hand of Legolas. I shoved my husband closer, making the two man shake hands, before Thranduil pulled his son in for a hug. “Come back to us when you are ready.” He whispered and I could hear the pain in his voice.

“I will. But not in the near future. Tauriel… I… I need distance.” Legolas answered, before he let go of his father, looking me in the eyes. “Thank you, naneth. Take care of him.”

“I will.” Was all I could press out, before the tears overtook my body, springing from my eyes in silent pain. Thranduil bowed his head, his eyes also filled with tears, but he held them back, hiding his face in my hair, hugging me closely. We cherished each others comfort for a while, before my hearing picked up the faint sobs of a female.

“Tauriel.” I murmured, stepping out of my husbands arms and following the noises. Thranduil was hot on my heels and soon we stumbled upon Tauriel, sitting besides one of the dwarves that were captured by us some time ago. “I want to burry him.” She said, her voice laced with pain and anger.

“Yes.” Thranduil answered her request, lowering his head.

“If this is love, I do not want it.” Tauriel whispered, looking up at my husband with the uttermost pain in her eyes. “Take it from me. Please. Why does it hurt so much?”

Approaching her slowly, Thranduil bowed his head, his voice a soft tenor, trying his best to soothe her pain: “Because it was real.”

That made her head rise again, her expression changing from painful to confusion, to realization and back to pain again. She bent down, pressing her lips on the dead dwarf, before a sad smile crossed her face, sniffling away the tears. Not really knowing what to do, I stayed in the background, watching as my husband knelt down beside her, offering to carry the dwarf down himself.

Weeks later, after the ranks of dwarfs, elves and humans slowly started to find back into their normal life’s, a letter from Elrond reached me and Thranduil. His daughters 2743th birthday was coming up. Lord Elrond had invited us to not only celebrate his daughter but also the reclaiming of Erebor. He even invited those of the fellowship, that survived the battle.

It was the first blossom of spring breaking over Rivendell, so I gladly took the opportunity to dress down on the layers of fabrics I had to wear over the course of winter. Much to the joy of my husband as it seems, because he had a special dress made for me. Another see-through silken dress, this time with a dark green touch to it. For the human and dwarven eye, it might seem modest, but I knew that elven eyes would be very aware of the transparent fabric. It had a deep plunge neckline as always only held in place by a corset, the skirt fanning out in many single trains overlapping to keep me covered but to allow easy access.

Knowing full well that my husband not only picked this dress with a purpose for his own pleasure, but to also show off what he possessed, I wore the dress with pride. It was a silently accepted fact, that neither him nor I were exactly private about our relationship and the course it had taken. Nobody talked about it, but everyone gossiped.

When it was time for the feast to start, Thranduil guided me down the paths of Rivendell. We had arrived the day prior to get accustomed to the new realm and that I could get ready in peace for the great day. I hated being stressed, especially when it came to taking care of my looks. Lord Elrond and his daughter were already to be found at the great clearing where the feast was to be held, and I stepped out of my husbands arm, to greet them.

Hugging both of them, I linked my arm under Arwen to take her on a walk, wanting to catch up on that whole Aragorn thing that was going on in her life. “Soooo, tell me. What's it with Arathorns son that has your father write me letter after letter?”

“My father writes you letters over something this unimportant?” She gasped and I shrugged. “I am his cousin and married to the elven king. It was probably his last resort to ask me out of all.”

“Oh yeah, with your reputation no doubt.” Nudging me slightly, she giggled at her words. Scoffing with a fake hurt expression on my face, I clasped a hand in front of my chest. “My reputation? I sure hope it is only the best.”

“Absolutely. There is only good word about the kings whore that spreads the realms.” Arwen kept on teasing and I stayed in my fake offended persona, calling out for my husband who was only at the end of the long table: “Herven?” He instantly snapped his head around, giving me a soft smile: “Yes, my starlight?”

“Have you heard that I am apparently called the kings whore in these lands?” Letting my eyes convey the jest I put up, he caught it fairly quickly, puffing his chest a bit. “No, I have not. Show me those wicked, that dare to speak ill of my wife. I will have Feren see to them as soon as he is back.”

Seeing all the other elves stare at us in a mixture of disbelieve and slight fear, I had to fight hard to suppress my laugh. I knew that not many believed the king to be a jester himself, so I could only imagine the worry that must run through their veins, seeing him so openly speak a threat. But seeing that Lord Elrond scowled at me, I decided to reveal my bluff, giggling like a child. “I love you, herven. For what you are and thrive to be.” Thranduil knew I was trying to ease the tension, but of course he had to set another stone to the grave: “Your love only fuels my need to protect you from all harm. For as I have promised to cherish and take care of you for all eternity.”

His confession of love, made my giggle subside into a soft smile and I couldn’t help but stand in utter awe of him so openly speak about it. He wasn’t a man to show his emotions that openly through words, but it seemed that the interaction with Tauriel after seeing her in absolute grief over Kili must have made him realize that his previous action had cause much harm to many. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see all of the surrounding servants and early guests stare at us, some even talking behind their hands. But my absolute focus laid upon my husband.

It wasn’t until now, that I realized he had come closer, drawing me in by my hips. “You are the best thing in my life, bereth. Never forget that. I don’t care what others might say, to me, you are the queen I worship.” That’s when he simply bend down, letting his hands rest on my lower back and waist, to kiss me. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it also was far away from a chastise peck on the lips. Only Lord Elrond clearing his throat got us to part again, a slight blush creeping up my cheeks. But Thranduil just proudly wrapped his arm around me.

***

The afternoon changed into the evening and after dinner was served, Lord Elronds servant had the clearing freed from the tables to enable dancing and simple talks and walks through the realm. I found myself wrapped into my husbands arms once again, relishing in his warmth as the spring wind seemed to have dropped a bit in temperature. “Are you cold, meleth?” He asked me, cuddling his head into my neck giving me hot little bites along my collarbone.

Turning in his arms, I took his face into my hands. “Not when you are with me, herven.” I gave him a peck to the lips, which made him smile softly. He tasted like elven wine. Heavy with sweet berries, a flowery note to it. But my body shivering with another breeze, made him sigh. “Feren.” He called out. “Could you please bring my cloak for my wife to warm up?”

“Of course, my king.” Feren answered in his usual soft tone. Moments later he came back with the heavy silver cloak, holding it out for me to slip into, but Thranduil had other plans. Taking it from his servant, he wrapped it around his shoulder and then pulled my back against his chest, closing his arms and the cloak around us. “That’s much better.” He whispered into my ear and I could feel him press me against his crotch.

He was hard, pressing his cock against my lower back. “Are you perhaps drunk, herven?” I asked, letting my hips innocently stroke over his hard member, when I leaned forward, freeing my hand under his cloak to reach for my goblet of wine. Thranduil growled silently behind me, the grip on my hips growing harder. “Of course not. My senses are very clear, meleth.”

“Is that so?” I teased, guiding one hand of his up to my chest underneath his cloak. Still watching the other elves dance freely, I slowly emptied my goblet, letting my husband grope me underneath our cover. The longer I took, the bolder he got, letting his fingers wander underneath my dress and between my legs. “You are not wearing anything else.” He silently stated, one finger pushing itself between my folds. I just emptied my goblet in one last gulp, stepping out of his hold and turning around. “Dance with me, herven.”

I could see his jaw tighten, as he took a deep breath taking a moment to take of his cloak and handing it to Feren. My eyes quickly snapped down to his crotch, seeing that he had sorted himself out, but for anyone looking longer than just a brief wandering gaze would see, that his manhood wasn’t that subtly longing for me.

He was quick to close the distance between us, holding me close to his body when he led us over the dance floor. “You are playing a dangerous game, ithil.” He threatened close to my ear, gently biting my ear lobe. I suppressed a moan, but my voice betrayed my played confidence: “I do? How would you come to that conclusion?”

“The way your eyes are literally undressing me, that ass pressed against me and maybe even the wetness I have already felt between your legs.” Thranduil whispered, forcing his knee between my legs. The music has switched from an uplifting song to a more sensual, intimate one, probably played to coax more couples onto the dance floor. But when my eyes met Arwen who was standing besides Lindir, giving me a thumbs up, I knew she had watched me and Thranduil.

Knowing full well, that she was testing my self-control with this song, I decided to give in to her challenge, letting myself fall even more into the arms of Thranduil. He didn’t seem to have noticed Arwen being responsible for my change in demeanor, but based on his hands wandering from the modest position on my shoulder blade down to my hips, I knew he had gotten my subtle hint to make this dance much spicier.

He not only guided me over the dance floor, but also made our bodies connect in the most sensual way possible, sparking my longing for him more and more. His eyes were trained on my face, eyes cockily challenging my control. A soft sigh left my lips, as he once again whirled me around, letting my core slide down his thigh, when he turned me outwards. “Please.” Was all I said once we were close again and he immediately stopped the dance, literally dragging me from the dance floor. Passing Feren, he grabbed his cloak from his servant. “I will take a hold of that for a while.” Then he just yanked me along, not caring about the many irritated looks we collected on our way out.

We made it down several paths, until we found ourselves beneath the festivities and on the edge of a small collection of trees. Thranduil let go of me, caging me in between a tree and his chest. “I need you.” His voice was coarse, just slightly above a snarl. His demeanor was harsh, the king in him breaking through. “I need you to obey me, meleth. Need you to be my little girl.”

I sank on my knees before him, nestling with his belt. “Let me take care of you.” I whispered, while I pushed down his pants and underwear. His cock was hard and dripping with precum. I wasted no time, taking him into my mouth. And as soon as he sank down my warm throat Thranduils head fell back. Steadying himself on the tree behind me, he loomed over me. A total mess; hair disarranged, eyes closed, lips hanging open.

Slowly I began to move my head up and down, as I watched him through my eyelashes. I wanted him to become agitated. Teasing him with my tongue dancing around his tip. His head fell back, an animalistic moan on his lips. He grabbed me by my hair, immobilizing my head and pulling back. With a sweet pop his member plopped out of my mouth. “Meleth… Please. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” I asked innocently.

“Like a vixen. I can barely control myself. And if you keep looking at me like that, I will lose it completely.”

“Then don’t. Take me. Control me. Make me yours. I am willing to give you everything I have.” The way he clenched his jaw, desperately holding on to the last bit of control he had over his mind, made me feel things I never imagined to feel. My whole body felt like it was set on fire, slowly burning its way to my middle, soaking me with my arousal.

Another growl ripped through his chest as he pushed his cock down my throat. I gagged as he forced himself down. Quickly I relaxed my throat. Drool started to drip down my chin, mixing with tears running from my eyes. Again and again, I choked on his size, but I didn’t care. All I wanted was him taking me as he liked it, as he needed me.

“Your mouth feels so good, my little starlight.” He moaned. I hummed with pleasure. His movements were strong, leaving me little room to breathe, but the heavenly feeling of his cock laying heavy on my tongue suppressed everything.

“Oh god, Elanore…” His grip on my hair grew stronger and I could feel him twitch in my mouth. I let my tongue dance around his shaft and tip, sucking in my cheeks to create more friction. I wanted to taste him, feel his hot seeds trickle down my throat.

His thrusts became irregular and he sucked in a sharp breath. I could see him holding back, waiting for my consent, which I eagerly gave him by nodding as much as he would let me. Again, I felt his member twitch rhythmically as he painted my throat with his seed. I swallowed all of it, without letting my eyes go of his, devotedly licking his member clean.

“Fuck…” He breathed out, carefully pulling me back by my hair. I just smiled at him, seductively wiping my lips with my thumb. “I love the way you get, when you are a little drunk.” I confessed, snuggling into his hand, that was still holding my head. He raised an eyebrow: “What do you mean?” Shrugging I got up from my knees. “You become much needier, openly showing how much you want me.”

“Do I not show my desire enough?” He asked, while putting his pants back on and I could see the tease in his eyes.

“You do.” I scoffed. “I just like both sides on you. The controlled and calculating and the soft and longing one. It just depends on the mood I am in.”

“And what mood are you in right now?” Studying my face intently, he grinned down on me. Winking at him, I stepped under his arm, bringing some distance between us. “One I want to be conquered in.” He got the hint, putting his cloak on the floor, spreading it out for me. Then he prowled around it, fixating me with his eyes. “I will see to ease your desire then.” Without giving any hint beforehand, he pounced at me, closing the distance between us in the blink of an eye.

With an ease, I wasn’t prepared for, he simply hoisted me over his shoulder, giving my ass a slap, before he carried me back to his cloak. Handling me roughly to be positioned beneath him. Then he started to slowly open the buttons of my corset one by one, kissing the skin he freed with every hook that came undone.

“I need you, herven.” I mewled, desperately wriggling underneath him, but he just ignored my pleads, keeping his slow pace of undressing me. Once he had opened my corset, he put it aside, to then mind meltingly slow push down each sleeve of my dress, until I could slip out. Now my upper body was freed for him and his lips immediately sank down on one nipple, sucking on it until it grew hard in his mouth. I moaned at the little relief it brought me, desperate for more. Playing with my other nipple with his fingers, he teased me, until I was sure to lose my mind. “Herven…” I pleaded, but he just rose from my chest. “Yes, my little starlight?”

“More.” I whimpered. “I need more.” But he just shook his head. “No, we will take it slow today. I want to savor you.” Kneeling back on his ankles, he started to undress himself, taking his time, while he watched me wriggle on the ground. Only when he had taken off all of his clothes, did he lean over me again. I couldn’t hold it back anymore, wrapping my legs around his hips, I pulled him in. “Stop playing with me and fuck me already.” But he was unmoving like a mountain.

“Beg.” Was all he said, the smile still plastered over his features. My eyes widened in shock. He wouldn’t dare to make me beg for him to fuck me, while we were in the open like this. Any moment someone could stumble upon us, but it seemed like Thranduil did not care one bit: “Beg, or I am stopping it right now.” He repeated, the tone in his voice now sharper, smile changing from cocky to arrogant. I shook my head, feeling the blush creep over my chest and cheeks. “Don’t make me do this…” I whispered.

“Do what?” He asked innocently.

“Herven, please… they are able to hear us.” Still whispering.

“They will hear whole other things coming out of that pretty mouth of yours once I am starting to have my fun with you. So go on, be a good girl and beg your king to fuck you properly.”

The sheer confidence he had, saying those filthy things, made my head reel in desire for him, but I decided to lean a bit further in his game. “Make me.” Those two words were his nemesis and I knew it. I knew that the moment I spoke those words would be the moment he would lose it. And I was right. The smile vanished from his lips in a split second.

Grabbing me under my right knee he flipped me over, pressing me down with as much force as he could muster to not hurt me. Now I had him where I wanted him to be, pushed into the ruthless commanding side of him. My core was throbbing in willing anticipation, sleek being spread all over my thighs. Forcefully, Thranduil pressed my legs apart, kneeling between them. One hand wrapped in my hair, turning my head to the side, while the other held his weight not to crush me. “You wanna play this game? You want me to stop being nice and treat you like a slut?” His voice was raspy, audibly running on the last string holding him together.

“Yes, please.” I moaned, spreading my legs even further and raising my ass up in the air. He let out a rough chuckle, seeing me melt in his hands like butter. “Look at that. All it took was a little force and you are behaving like a bitch in heat. Tell me meleth, do you think you deserve to be fucked like a good girl?” I tried to nod, earning a slight tug on my hair. “Words, little girl.”

“Please.” Was all I could whine, desperately trying to get some release.

“Again.” He rasped.

“Please, Herven. Fuck me. I need you, please.” I begged, not caring how desperate I sounded.

“Finally.” He whispered. “You are begging. Sometimes I wonder if you are putting up this act just to rile me up further. Be honest, is that true, bereth?”

“Hmm.” I hummed, not really caring about his words.

A deep sight came rumbling from his chest. “Do you even know what you do to me?” He asked, pressing a wet kiss on my shoulder. “The hold you have on me is bordering on insanity. I should be the responsible one, taking care of you. And yet here I am, pinning you down on the forest floor, desperately fighting to keep control over myself.” After a short pause he gained his stance back. “And I am the only one who gets to have you. This is all mine. My good little girl.” By the end his voice once again turned into a deep growl, fed by the jealousy of other men looking at me.

Stroking his cock through my folds, he teased me again. Forcing me to be this whining mess underneath him. Lining himself up with my entrance he slowly pushed into me, careful not to hurt me, since he didn’t prepare me before. But I was so riled up by him, that he had nearly no resistance gliding into me. When he bottomed me out, he let out a low groan.

Then he finally started to move. Rolling his hips forward and pressing me down even further. I let out a delighted hum, closing my eyes and gripping the cloak underneath my head harder. “Fuck…” He hissed above me, intertwining one hand again with my hair, while the other stayed pressed against the floor. “Look at me, bereth nin. Let me see those beautiful eyes of yours.” Following his command, I opened my eyes. Getting locked up in his deep blue eyes, now nearly blown black from lust.

Slowly he picked up the speed, not letting go of me. He was now hitting my sweet spot deep inside me at a steady rhythmical pace, that I let out another suppressed moan. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you. Show me how good I make you feel.” Once again, his whole demeanor shifted. Had he been rough and commanding just a second ago, he was now as soft and loving as he could be. Letting go of my hair, he started to caress and stroke my body with feather light brushes. Just ever so slightly that it had me yearning for more.

The way his movements, his thrusts and touches played with my body was pure bliss. I was riding on a hot wave of love and lust toward my abyss. “Oh please…” A loud moan forced itself past my lips, much to the pleasure of Thranduil. He liked, when I was severely reacting to him, always making sure to pull as much pleasure out of me as my body could handle.

He started humming, bending down to kiss me. His lips were hot and hard against mine, still showing that he was indeed holding back for me. Giving me this lovely start. But underneath his well-kept attitude I could feel the need to possess me starting to boil. Him openly holding himself back, to fully commit to my pleasure, send so much love and lust through my body.

The knot in my stomach started to grow immeasurably. This mixed with Thranduil treating my so softly, pushed my emotionally agitated self over the edge. With tears running down my cheeks, I called out for him, now finally not caring about who might be able to hear us. He answered my call with letting go of my head. Only to then bury me underneath him, while pressing down my hands with his bigger ones. “Its alright, starlight. I am right here. You can let go.” He whispered against my ear. “You are doing so good. Such a good little girl. Taking me so well, so obedient. Go on. Come for me. Make a mess on my cock, I know you want to.”

A loud cry on my lips, I came hard. The wall of my orgasm hitting me with pure force. Dragging me over the cliff without any resistance. I was now in a free fall of blissfulness. Slipping in and out of reality, only being grounded by Thranduils low, raspy voice praising me. Bucking against his body I shakily came back to senses, to then get my breath knocked out of my lungs by his hungry kiss. He slowed his movements, letting me regain my stance, giving me a chance of further consent or to stop him from moving on. That’s what has struck me deeply about him from the beginning. No matter what, he was always focused on me giving my consent, to never step over any barrier I had.

“You can let go, herven. Its okey. You wont break me.” I said, my voice still shaky from my orgasm. Pushing the hair out of my eyes, he asked: “Are you sure about that? You don’t have to...” I interrupted him, before he could get caught up in his thoughts too much: “Yes, I am sure. I can feel how you want to go rough with me. Take me. Make me feel good. Make me yours.”

Instantly changing his demeanor, he pushed himself up, effectively pulling me to my knees as well. Then he leaned over me, pressing my face into towards the ground. “I want to hear you. Don’t you dare hold back, understood?” His voice didn’t let any room for discussion, so I obediently answered: “Yes, my king.”

“Good girl.” He rasped, wrapping my hair around his hand to get a better hold of me. Then he picked up a ruthless pace, forcing me to help steady myself with my arms spread out on the floor.

His fast pace had me forget any dignity that might have been left inside my body. Hitting my sweet spot with every thrust, now stretching me deeper than before, had me yelping and moaning out in pure pleasure. The lush sounds he was drawing from my body, mixed with my heavy breathing and his low groans. I could feel my juices from my previous orgasm running down my thigh, getting smeared around with every of his moves.

This right now was far away from the soft, sweet way he had thrusted into me before. He was now railing me without mercy, using me to his full pleasure. But that’s exactly how I wanted him to treat me. As an answer to his behavior, I twitched around his cock, implying my next upcoming orgasm. He pulled me up by my hair to his chest. “You ask before you come, you hear me?” He growled into my ear. Voice strained in sharp control over his inner needs.

“Yes.” I whimpered, not thinking about the consequences of not addressing him with his title.

“Yes what?” He snarled, shoving me down. A sharp slap on my left butt cheek, had me yelp out in pain, but that only seemed to spur him on further. “Answer me!” Another slap followed onto the right side of by behind.

“Yes, my king.” I cried out, again tears pricking in my eyes.

“Good girl.” He praised. “Don’t you dare forget my title, whore.”

“I am sorry, my king. Please…” I begged, squeezing him with my throbbing pussy, not daring to speak the words to beg for another orgasm.

“As you should be. Does a good girl disobey her king?” He pressed on further.

“No, my king. Please. I am close… I cant…” My cries were getting more and more desperate. I couldn’t hold back for much longer, silently praying he would release me. But it was Thranduil we were speaking about. The king of sass and teasing.

“Then what makes you think you get to have another orgasm? Havent I already given you enough? And yet here you are, begging to give you a second one.” I could hear the pure pride of having me at his mercy. It was what got him off the best.

“Please, herven. I cant… I am too close. Let me come, please my king.” I squealed, holding myself together by nothing more than a thread and pure willpower. Luckily, he knew how close I was, because he pulled me up against his chest again. Wrapping his warm arms around my body. “Come, pin iell. Let go for me.”

And that I did. Relaxing into his hold, I let the second wave hit me with all the force and turbulences it brought with it. Far away I could hear myself, moan or much more cry out his name, clawing my fingers to his arms, to gain at least some stability. Only a few moments later, I could feel his cock twitch against the shuddering walls of my core. Spilling his hot seed deep inside of me.

With a deep growl, Thranduil sunk onto the ground, burying me underneath him. I could feel him pressing me down, but luckily, he had enough senses left to support his weight to not crush me. We stayed like this for a few minutes. Dwelling in the existence of one another, before he slowly pulled out. I hissed at this movement, because it now made me painfully aware of the roughness, he had fucked me with. Great, now I wouldn’t be able to walk properly for a few hours if not days…

Carefully he helped me back into my dress, cleaning me as good as he could with a hanker chief, before he took care of himself. When we were dressed again, I tried to sort my hair, him immediately helping to redo my braids. After he had deemed me presentable again, he wrapped his cloak around me, protecting me from the cold that had only now hit my senses again. Slowly we walked back to the festivities, me trying my best to get my stability back and him making sure I would make it back in one piece.

When we had reached the clearing again, I could feel several eyes rake over us, inspecting our appearance in great detail. Lord Elrond stood there, only a few steps away from us. And the look on his face spoke more than I wanted it to be. Scolding both of us with his eyes, he didn’t even walk over to us, when he spoke. It would have been pointless anyways, as it seemed, everyone knew what had happened.

“I know you both are very… indulging in each other. But was there really no other way as to do it in public? This close? Everyone was able to hear her.” Lord Elrond, breathed out, the anger visible on his features. I was averting my gaze, not having the strength to stand up against him. My husband however stepped forward, shielding me with his body. “Oh, did we get heard? What a shame. My apologies.” He said, a fake gasp to his words and I knew that he was wearing the most sarcastic smile on his lips.

Lord Elrond just stuttered, not even caring to address Thranduil by his title anymore: “Thranduil… By Valar I swear…” But he didn’t get any further, my husband interrupting him once again: “There is nothing to worry about anymore. I doubt my wife would be able to handle a second round.” And with that being said, he pulled me over the clearing and towards a small table at the side. Everyone was staring at us and I should have felt embarrassed, but the simple way my husband had turned the accusation around, making it seem as if it was the most normal thing to happen, made me feel way better. And in a way, a great wave of pride washed over me, knowing that Thranduil had just made everyone question their sanity.

#fem reader #smut #slight battle describtions #thranduil x reader #thranduil #thranduil smut #lotr #the hobbit

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chester-god-0 · 2 months

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It's here! My Ace appreciation fic!

Summary: Atsushi gets unceremoniously adopted by Ace. After all, who wouldn't pick up a crusty, stinky orphan off of the streets?

Finally someone who sees Atsushi's undeniable beauty <3

#bsd #fanfic #ao3 #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfic #atsushi #fanfiction #nakajima atsushi #bungo stray dogs #bsd atsushi #bsd ace #ace #madness of the jewel king #esu #bsd esu

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fireskarr · 9 months

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GW2 Unused dialogue: Flirty lines?

So here's a fun one ;)

During my deep dive into the Living World S1 related dialogue lines in the game, I stumbled across a flirty line from Jory that I hadn't heard before. I didn't think much of it at the time, since several of her regular lines are rather flirty. But then I found one for Braham. And then Rox. And then I started to pay attention.

For most characters, there are blocks of what I like to call 'generic' lines. These blocks tend to be separate from the story-specific lines and ambient conversations, and include things like event-related chatter (let's go, follow me, go on ahead, etc), greetings, yes/no, calls for help, battle cries, etc. And I noticed some of the "thank you"/gratitude lines were almost always preceded by some kind of flirty line (and a few aren't, it's kinda messy haha). So I ran through all the other characters and pulled what I could find.

Not all named characters seem to have these though, and I might have missed one or two that weren't obviously flirty. There's also a chance that some of these are part of ambient conversations I'm not aware of, but most ambient conversations tend to be separate, so I dunno. Like I said; kinda messy.

I've separated them into two groups: Named NPCs and un-named NPCs

Marjory Delaqua: "Mmm, mm, mmm. You can walk into my bar any old time." Braham: "You'd look great in a bear skin." Rox: "I like you almost as much as meat!" Magnus the Bloody Handed: "You look like a kindred spirit. You like winter sports?" Evon Gnashblade: "You like gold? Jewels? I bet you do." Vorpp: "Hello beautiful. Are there anymore at home like you?" Scarlet Briar: "Hello, you're pretty cute. For a drone." Captain Mai Trin: "Do you have what it takes to be my First Mate?" Magister Tassi: "What do you say? You, me, a little romantic stroll through the library, hmm?" Mad King Thorn: "Heey! How would you like to be queen for a day?" Bloody Prince Thorn: "Mmm, you're as luscious as blood in the moonlight."

Lionguard 1: "Hey, good lookin'." Lionguard 2: "My shift's about to end, how about a drink?" Aetherblade 1: "Hey baby, wanna ride on an airship?" Aetherblade 2: "I'm all business. But I'm all pleasure too." Aetherblade 3: "Hey there, hot stuff." Zephyrite 1: "I feel a spark between us." Zephyrite 2: "You outshine the sun." Zephyrite 3: "Did I see a glint in your eye?" Zephyrite 4: "I feel balanced, now that you're here."

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 unused dialogue #marjory delaqua #braham eirsson #rox #scarlet briar #mai trin #mad king thorn #bloody prince thorn #magister tassi #vorpp #aetherblades #zephyrites

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 12 days

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The Silver Dragon (3)

The Bench

On Arianwyn’s tenth nameday, a grand reception is held in her honor. Though most guests are not in attendance for the Lady of Runestone, but rather the Princess Rhaenyra, who is mere weeks away from giving birth. But Arianwyn does not care, for Aemond is there. And he has a present for her.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Author's Note: This chapter just had minor edits. I've realized that in early chapters I kind of jumped around with POVs, so I've fixed that. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

The nameday celebrations for Aria were far humbler than those for her cousins who held the titles of prince and princess. It drove Aemond mad, for she surely deserved at least an equal celebration, if not grander. But she was still the daughter of a prince and a favorite of the queen. So, on her tenth nameday, a grand reception was held in her honor.

While formal invitations for her past celebrations were sent to all the noble houses of Westeros, only House Royce and their bannermen from the coast of the Vale had dutifully journeyed to the capital to observe the occasion each year. The rest of the court came and went as their own agendas dictated. Indeed, while many were in attendance this year, Aria was not the reason why.

Rhaenyra was with child once again. Though still weeks away from the birth, the nobility of Westeros was eager to ensure their presence at the birth of the newest Targaryen. Aemond and Aria had finally learned why.

Jacaerys and Lucerys were bastards. It meant Laenor was not their father, and their mother was a whore.

It was not hard to see it, now that he knew. Neither had the white hair or violet eyes of a Valyrian child, but rather hair as black as raven’s feathers and eyes a deep brown, like muddy water. Had it been just Jacaerys, perhaps the court could have overlooked his common appearance. After all, his presumed paternal grandmother, Rhaenys Velaryon, was half Baratheon. But even the Queen Who Never Was was blessed with the violet eyes of her father’s house.

When Lucerys was born looking as ordinary as his brother, the court began looking beyond her husband’s family. Most eyes fell upon her sworn protector and Lord Commander of the City Watch, Harwin Strong. The son of the Hand sported the same coloration as the young princes and often visited their rooms in Maegor’s Holdfast when he visited the Red Keep for Small Council meetings – despite the two towers being on opposite ends of the castle.

But while it was clear for all to see, their bastardy never left whispered conversations in empty corridors. At least, not anymore. Not since Ser Evin Tascer had ended an evening of heavy drinking on a cart to the Wall – without a tongue. But the gossip persisted, though out of the king’s earshot. His mother had forbidden him from mentioning it in public.

That didn’t stop him from teasing them about it in private. It was rightfully deserved after all they’d done to him – and obviously true. He only ever felt bad about it when Aria found out and scolded him.

Many suspected Rhaenyra was purposeful in avoiding another pregnancy. After all, the princes were born only a year apart, and Lucerys was already nearly six years old. With no miscarriages or other devastating accidents reported and the princess still young, there seemed to be no other explanation.

But now she was again with child, and every noble in Westeros waited with bated breath to look upon the babe – and its hair. As the birth neared, more and more nobility descended on the capital to ensure they were among the first to know. It just so happened that Aria's nameday coincided with the deluge of Westerosi nobility.

But Aria had not once mentioned that it bothered her. The gardens of the Red Keep were bursting with nobles in colorful and elaborate clothing adorned with glimmering jewels. Aemond was more than content to let her pretend it was all for her – it was his way of protecting her.

After all, it was her nameday, one of Aemond’s favorite days of the year. On this day, he got to spend the whole day with her without having to go to the Dragonpit. And she smiled so much. It was also one of the few times they got to see her cousin, Ser Gerold, who always encouraged their research and praised their dedication to learning about their family histories.

He arrived at King’s Landing as always, with a carriage overflowing with gifts. As usual, a great number of these were ancient artifacts of House Royce. After ten years, her quarters nearly rivaled the vault at Runestone.

Of course, he also brought her new novelties—books filled with fantastical illustrations depicting fairy tales and historical tales alike; carved wooden toys painted in the colors of their house that, at this point, she was decidedly too old for; dresses of the finest silks and brocades; and jewels of all kinds set in gold, silver, and, naturally, bronze.

Aemond knew his present would outshine it all. It was not a relic of her family nor a decadent new creation. It was old, yes, but humble in appearance.

He had slipped into her rooms earlier that morning, his gift wrapped in simple brown parchment and clutched tightly in his arms. As the second son of a King, he’d become accustomed to being looked over and learned to turn it to his advantage. So it was easy for him to slip past Aria’s guards and her lady’s maids to make his way to her dressing room.

She sat at her vanity, holding various jewels up to her neck, her eyes scrunched as she assessed each one against her black and bronze dress. Aemond slipped from behind a wooden screen as she picked up a delicate silver chain dripping with diamonds. Her grey eyes spotted the movement in her mirror, and she met his gaze through the glass.

“Happy nameday, Aria,” he whispered, a gleeful smile on his face.

Her smile quickly matched his, and she whipped around on her seat, the diamond necklace clattering forgotten on the vanity. “Is that for me?” she asked, pointing at the package he held.

Aemond nodded, running up to meet her. She immediately tore into the paper like a dragon eviscerating its prey. He laughed, more excited about giving her this gift than he had ever been to receive one himself.

It was an old book, a thoroughly unimpressive tattered tome. The binding was linen—not leather—and had not weathered the years well. The fiber had degraded so much in places along the spine that the reed and twine holding the pages together were visible. The pages themselves were yellow with age, stiff, and uneven. It was unclear whether they had been torn through centuries of use by countless users or cut that way originally by an inexperienced craftsman.

He knew that all that would matter to Aria was the title: Deciphering the Runes of the First Men.

“Where did you get this?” She asked, eyes wide and mouth agape – precisely the reaction Aemond had hoped for.

Their routine of visiting the castle library to research their families' histories had continued, but over the years, there were questions that even Orwyle could not answer. Many pertaining to the Runes of the First Men. The Runes that appeared on many of Aria’s belongings and gave her keep its name. Orwyle had corresponded with his colleagues in Oldtown over the years to try and answer their questions. However, information on the Runes was scarce, even in the regions of Westeros that still clung to that history.

But now, on the morning of her nameday, she at last held a book that may contain the answers she sought. Setting the book carefully on her vanity, she leaped from her vanity stool and straight into Aemond’s arms, her question entirely forgotten.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she squealed, holding her cousin so tight he struggled to breathe. “I hardly even need the party anymore. You’ve already made this the best nameday ever.”

Aemond hugged her back, face flushing at her gush of praise. “I don’t think my mother would approve. She’s spent weeks planning the party.”

Aria withdrew from the hug, sighing dramatically. “Fine. If we still have to have the party, help me choose a necklace so we can go and get it over with.”

She returned to the vanity, smiling mischievously at Aemond in the mirror. Still laughing, he sat beside her and began rifle through her jewelry box.

Hours later, in the gardens, Arianwyn impatiently fiddled with her necklace. Aemond had chosen one of braided bronze and silver chains, with a smattering of various jewels woven in. The day was growing hot, and Alicent and Gerold relentlessly continued to lead her throughout the party and present her to so many people that her head started to spin.

She was finally granted a reprieve when a servant pulled Alicent aside to discuss the alarming rate at which the pastries were disappearing from the table. As soon as her Aunt’s attention was off her, Arianwyn thanked Ser Gerold for coming and ran to the other end of the garden as fast as she could.

Helaena and Aemond sat on a bench together against the garden wall. Entirely disinterested in the party, they watched honeybees land clumsily on the plate set between them, lapping up droplets of the sugary punch Helaena poured for them.

“There are only ten now,” Helaena said when she sensed her cousin’s presence, though her eyes remained steadfastly focused on the plate. “But a few moments ago, there were twenty-one.”

Arianwyn smiled, glad she had arrived after most of the bees had left. “Do they like the punch?” This conversation was already far more interesting than any she had with any of the other party guests.

“They do,” Helaena said, tipping her goblet to spill more on the plate. “But when they fly away, they seem clumsier than usual.”

Aemond laughed, looking up from his sister’s experiment to his cousin. “Of course they are. They’re drunk, Helaena. There’s wine in the punch.”

Though Helaena seemed horrified at the prospect, Arianwyn couldn’t help but laugh. “If you give them enough, they may start acting like Aegon.”

At this, Helaena at last joined in the laughter. But it did not last long.

As if summoned by the sound of his name, Aegon emerged from the crowd, Jace and Luke trailing behind him.

“Were you saying something about me, dear Aria?” He drawled. Like the bees, he was already quite wobbly. “You know it’s not nice to gossip.” He pursed his lips before chuckling, the two younger boys joining him. Luke dropped his head as he laughed. Jace smirked, looking directly at Arianwyn.

Aemond began to quiet. His smile faded, and he turned his head down, staring at his hands. Arianwyn would not allow this on her nameday.

“We’re simply having fun at my party, cousin.” She said, venom sneaking into her voice. She stepped slightly in front of Aemond. “Are you?”

Aegon scoffed, “As much as I can, I suppose. Though I can’t say the conversation has been particularly stimulating. Most of the people here only want to talk about Rhaenyra,” he spat the name of his sister as if it were a curse, “and the others about you.”

“It’s my nameday,” she snapped back. “Why should they not be talking about me?”

Aegon’s smile grew unsettlingly wide. Taking another deep swig from his cup, he moved closer to her, so close she had to crane her neck to look into his eyes. “Do you know what they’re saying, Aria?”

She felt her face flush with anger. Aegon had few talents, but his careful cruelty was undoubtedly one of them.

“I’ll give you a hint. They aren’t talking about that garish bronze armor your cousin brought you. Though I’m not sure why – it’s truly horrendous.” He looked back at Jace and Luke, signaling them to laugh. They did.

When Arianwyn continued her silence, Aegon leaned down, his face close enough for her to smell the alcohol on his breath. “Ten is an important number, cousin. You’re not just a girl anymore. You’re well on your way to becoming a woman.” He reached to touch her cheek, but she slapped his hand away, baring her teeth.

“Do you wonder why my mother has been parading you around like a prize mare? Today is the day you officially go to market, Aria. As soon as your father finally acknowledges you even exist and agrees to a deal, you’ll be shipped off to the highest bidder. If you’re lucky, he’ll be kind enough to not bed you until you’re older.”

Arianwyn shrieked in anger, gathering all her strength to push Aegon away from her. He just laughed as he stumbled back. She wanted to hit him more, hit him harder, but she did not want to make a scene at her own party – it would just give him more reason to mock her.

“Come, Aemond,” she commanded, seizing his hand. “I’m tired of the party. Let’s go to the library.” He did not argue, letting her drag him off the bench without resistance.

With his fun over, Aegon left the bench and returned to the throng of people, his two raven-haired lackeys close behind. Only Helaena remained, and two of her honeybees. She dipped a finger into the punch, letting one of the insects crawl onto her fingernail to drink.

“The silver mare shall never be sold,” she whispered.

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