#Legolas/fem!reader

[rottencherrypie]

R-18+; Positions

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

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

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person

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

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

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

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

-thorin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────

-fili

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

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

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

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

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

A promise he showed swiftly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────

-kili

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a good boy he was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────

-thranduil

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His motions were sharp yet poised and precise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────

-legolas

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

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

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

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

And he found that control in you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──────

Want to read one part at a time? Read separately on AO3

Thorin, Fili, Kili, Thranduil, Legolas

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

Thorin, Fili, Kili, Thranduil, Legolas

[faeriichaii]

hiii i have a request only if you're up for it! a legolas x reader and reader teases legolas and his sensitive ears during an important event and he takes it out on you (spicy? smut if you're up for it :)

love your fics sm <333

Keep Quiet ~ Legolas x F!Elf!Reader

A/N: OMG!! I kinda have been waiting for a smut request haha!! It's just I rarely write any smut so it is always nice to see someone request it cause this also makes me uhh idk get used to writing it?? But yeah I finally finished the request and I really hope you like it <33 I also might edit it later cause rn it is very late and I am very tired but I still wanna publish smth so... ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: Smut (MDNI), Unprotected sex, Fingering, bj, ass slapping ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 2.0 k ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ

Summary: You seem to have teased your husband Legolas a little too long during one important meeting, so he teaches you a lesson.

Bored. You felt utterly bored, as you listened in on Lord Elronds conversation with Legolas father about some trading contract each of them approved. Being Legolas wife has it perks but you definitely despise the lengthy business meetings you have to attend. And your attendance is required regularly. As Thranduil once said, you are not just part of their family now, but also have to shoulder the burden of being the queen at some time in your lengthy life. Back then you smiled at the elven king and nodded. You didn’t expect to become queen anytime soon either. But neither did you expect him to get Legolas to drag you to every official meeting in Mirkwood. “It is good for you to learn all about our relationships with the several leaders of the various different lands.” Thranduil once said to you, after he caught you yawn after several hours of listening about potential war strategies.

A hand on your thigh justled you out of your memories. Legolas gave you a smile, as he leaned closer to you. “We are almost through Meleth Nin. Only an hour more and they should sign the papers.” Another hour? Sighing at his words you gave him a pained smile. Your eyes wandered from the elven king of Mirkwood towards Lord Elrond. You knew this would take even longer than that. How could you sit around and do nothing for another hour or two? “Legolas, would it be alright for your father if I could leave for a few minutes? Just to take a quick breather.” You whispered in his ear. His grip on your leg tightened and he began to shift around in his seat beside you. “Are you alright Meleth Nin?” “Of course I just-“ You raised an eyebrow at him. He definitely did not look quite alright. He looked rather… uncomfortable. “I don’t think my father would approve.”

Tilting your head to the side, you continued to study his side profile. A soft rosy colour dusted the tips of his ears, as well as his cheeks. Suddenly, realization dawned upon you. “Are you sure that is the reason behind you being so… skittish right now?” Your warm breath fanned over his pointy ear and you felt his body shiver, as you let your hand gently rest on his leg. Drawing circles on his thigh, you leaned closer towards him. “I don’t need a break anymore, so don’t worry about it my love.” The elven prince noticed the flirtatious undertone in your voice and gave you a warning glance. “(Y/N) please. You can’t do this to me right now. This is an important meeting and-“ A shuddered sigh left his lips, as your finger traced his ear with a feather light touch. “Hmm? Is everything alright darling?” You asked him sweetly, trying to scoot closer to your husband.

“Lord Elrond and your father are still discussing about the best travel route in order for the goods to arrive safely. The same topic since hours so why don’t you just lean back and let me have some fun hmm?” Legolas face turned towards you, his glare igniting a fire deep inside your core. He was mad. And you just got turned on. His hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it away from his ear. “You don’t want to continue playing this game (Y/N). Trust me.” A smirk graced your lips. “Is this a challenge Meleth Nin?”

Suddenly Legolas jumped up from his place at the table. Both of the lords turned their attention from the map at the table to the elven prince, confusion written upon both their faces. Even you were surprised. “Father, I must apologies, but I just remembered that me and my wife have another important event to attend to.” Thranduil looked his son up and down, before letting his gaze wander over you. You expected him to decline (probably due to the tension between you), but instead he approved. “Both of you shall leave, but make sure this… accident doesn’t happen a second time.” And with those parting words you were dragged out of the room by Legolas.

His grip on your wrist tightened as he sped across the hall towards your shared bedroom. “Legolas slow down I-“ “You want me to slow down? I bet you won’t say that again anytime soon.” Heat kissed your cheeks at the insinuation of his words. God you just wanted to tease him a bit but you definitely did not expect this outcome. Legolas stopped walking, just to open the door, drag you inside and lock it afterwards. His back was turned towards you. Watching his shoulders rise up and down you slowly approached him. “I told you to listen, didn’t I?” “Legolas I-“ Suddenly he spun around. “You didn’t listen though, did you now?” A shiver went down your spine at his deep voice. His gaze travelled from your face all over your body which made heat pool in your lower region. “You acted very poorly and improper for the future queen you know?” You nodded your head at his words. “I apologize my prince.” “You think that is enough to satisfy me?” He said, slowly approaching you. Legolas eyed you like a predator about to devour his pray. Oh, and how you would indulge in him devouring you. You need him. You want him.

“What can I do to make up for my mistakes?” “For one, how about I fill your pretty mouth.” Legolas stood in front of you, his finger grazing along your jaw. The touch alone set you ablaze like oil touching a flame. He tilted your face up towards him. “Does that sound good to you?” You nodded your head once more in approval. “Good.” And with that his mouth was upon yours. His mouth was hot and needy upon your own, tongues dancing with each other. A moan escaped your lips at the sweet relieve of the built-up tension. Legolas hand moved from your face to the back of your head to gather your hair in his fist. Pain spread from your scalp as he yanked your head bag by your strands, his mouth immediately trailing kisses along your exposed neck. Your hands racked over his upper body, unbuttoning his shirts and letting them fall off over his shoulders. Fingers trailing over his exposed skin, you followed every line and ridge of his body, until you stopped at his waistband.

“Get on your knees.” Legolas voice had a needy edge to it, as he began to gently shove you down, his hand never letting loose of your hair. Getting comfortable on the ground, you bit your lip at the obvious tent in his pants. Instantly you grabbed for his belt, loosened it and got rid of his trousers for him. “Open up.” Your mouth did as he ordered you to and in just a mere second his cock was between your lips. Sucking on it you watched his reaction through your eyelashes. His head was thrown back as soft pants escaped him. You let your tongue glide over his veins before pulling back and letting it slide over his slit. A hiss came from Legolas parted lips. His grip around your hair tightened. Suddenly, he pushed his cock deeper into your mouth, making you gag around him. Spit spilled out of the side of your mouth, as you tried to relax your throat in order to deepthroat his cock as much as possible. Your fingers moved from his hips towards your pussy, craving your own relieve. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.” Legolas said in-between pants. He moaned as a whine left your lips and sent a vibrating sensation through his lower region.

Pulling out, he grabbed your arms and lifted you from the ground. His hands found your chin, tilted your face towards his and gave you a kiss. His tongue fought with your own while he began to strip you out of the dress you wore for the meeting. Your nipples hardened under the cold air and he wasted no time in rolling them between his fingers. Your back arched at the pleasant feeling of finally feeling his touch upon you. His mouth moved from your lips down to your left tit. Your hands twisted in his long blonde hair, playing with the braids you did earlier today. Heat radiated from both of your bodies, as he let go of your nipple with a pop and stood up to his full height once more. “Now I want you to keep your mouth shut, okay?” An approval couldn’t even pass your lips, before you found yourself upon your bed, face down and ass up. “Show me how long you can keep your dirty lips sealed.”

A pleasant shiver went down your spine, as you felt his finger glide through your lips. Gripping the bedsheet, you turned your head to the side. “Legolas I need you please.” You whispered while glancing behind you. His finger brushed over your clit, making you bite your lip in order to keep quiet. You tried to scoot towards his hand, but his other hand kept your body down by your neck. “You already failed to keep quiet but you still want to get rewarded?” He slowly entered one of his fingers into your pussy but almost immediately retracted it. A needy whine passed your lips. “So greedy.” Legolas said, before entering two of his fingers and slowly pumping them at a steady pace. Your grip on the sheets tightened, as you tried to wriggle around his fingers. You want more. You need more. But you were in luck, because just after a few pumps, you could already feel the head of his cock at your entrance. “I want to see your pussy suck in my cock exactly how they greedily took in my fingers.”

And with that he pushed inside you. Your mouth opened to let out a silent moan, as you felt the stretch of his cock inside you. His hands gripped your hips harshly, before he began to move in a steady rhythm. It was hard to keep quite while his cock filled you to the brim, but neither would you want to lose his warmth inside of you. Pants mixed with the sound of skin slapping filled the quietness of the room. A moan escaped through your parted lips and was soon replaced with a surprised yelp, as you felt the harsh sting of a slap on your ass. “Your misbehaviour can’t stay unpunished now, can it?” You nodded in agreement with him. God how you loved getting punished by him. Meeting his hips halfway through each thrust, you felt the knot inside of you tighten, as well as the twitch of your husband’s cock inside of you.

“You take it so well Meleth Nin.” A sudden harsh thrust forced another moan out of your mouth, followed by another pleasant sting on your ass cheek. His hand gently traced over the red handprint. “I have a feeling that you almost like getting punished.” He let his finger trail down to your clit and drew gentle circles over it. Heat washed over your entire body, as you felt your climax approach faster and faster. Your walls clenched more tightly around his cock while the pressure of his finger on your clit increased. “Oh my god Legolas I-“ Another slap echoed through the room, followed by a whine from your lips, as the sweet relieve of your climax washed over you. Your walls clenching around his cock was all he needed, before filling you up with his cum. His release was followed by a few sloppy thrusts, before he pulled out, got onto the bed beside you and circled his arms around you in a warm embrace. A few minutes of purse silence passed between the both of you.

“Was it too much?” Legolas suddenly asked you. “No, of course not Meleth Nin. I might even consider teasing you more often during the meetings.” You reassured him, wrapping your own arms around him and falling asleep in his arms.

[banquetwriter]

୨୧ Le hannon ୨୧

pairing: Legolas Greenleaf ♡︎ fem!Reader

warnings: ୭̥⋆*｡ readers hair is described as dull and shaggy but mentions nothing of color, cut, or texture so it can apply to anyone. legolas is described as being inhumanly tall and is taller than reader, but reader isn’t necessarily short, if you squint reader is implied to be ok the chubbier side. sex and love making, OOC legolas bc this is my first time writing him

summary: ʚ body worship ɞ

Words: 2703

A/N: AHHH ME WRITING OH MY ??? i’m getting outta depression yalllllll

It was easy to feel inferior next to the prince of Mirkwood. It was easy to feel less than next to any elf. They held themselves highly, unable to simply die of any mortal ailments. Their flowing long hair whipped around as they jumped from tree to tree with such an agile nature it seemed as if the rules of gravity that burdened so heavily on your human frame did not apply to these extraordinary creatures.

They are also such strong scholars, their views and sense of other cultures and worlds seem lightyears ahead of any knowledge you could hope to possess. And the elves of Mirkwood do surely know it. How they turn their nose up to you at any given chance, the snide remarks.

You were only human. You had jagged and dull hair. Your body ached with germs and grew tired of simply existing. The mind you possessed was not so easily tuned. You weren't as quick on your feet, often taking longer for each task. Your skin was damaged, it was not soft or beautiful, it was raw.

It felt embarrassing to be seen next to such beauty. Although Legolas never embarrassed you once through his words. In fact, he had never commented on your physical appearance since the day your path intertwined with his.

He would ask about your skills in healing animals and other creatures, your traditions, and your livelihood. On your lighter days, you appreciated not having any comments to make your mind spiral out of control.

On other days you wanted nothing more than for the tall and pale elf to get down on his knees and worship you. To have his manicured hands grace every part of your skin and heal you. Not with medicine or words but with touch. His finger gingerly fucking you until you don't have any thoughts to overthink.

You sat in your guest room of the palace. You suppose you were sitting better than some elves being so close to the king and the prince. Your company needs a break from traveling, the prince suggested his home as the perfect one.

The aforementioned prince was currently taking a stroll down memory lane in the evening hours as the rest of his crew was sleeping (or trying to in your case) his Elven body did not need to sleep so he walked. He was reliving old memories, some good, some bad. He was also thinking of you, so maybe that is why as he strolled around he found his feet bringing himself to your room.

Legoland found it odd at first that he drew towards you. You were not like most women he knew, you were loud and unafraid. Drinking just as much as the men, not worrying about yourself as much as you worried about your friends and loved ones. You were a sunshine that warmed his heart like the first heat of summer.

By gods you were beautiful. Inside and out. A soul so worthy of love Legolas found himself dreaming of you night after night. The curve of your legs, the roundness of your tummy. It was a miracle to be blessed with you.

He surely couldn't wake you if you were letting sleep pass through you. Maybe he should just check to make sure you were settling in alright. Mhm yes, this is what being a good host would do. He held his slender fingers up to your door, his golden rings glistening in the moonlight and candle-lit hallways.

He knocked with his knuckles a few times against your door before bringing his hands down and massaging them, attempting to calm his nerves. “W-who is it?” you asked clearly startled.

Your eyes bored into the door in front of you as your heartbeat began to beat so violently against your rib cage it was hard to hear or see anymore. “It's me, your favorite prince.” you hear the familiar voice jest.

The words don't come out quite as smoothly as he wanted. You didn't seem to notice his anxiety. “I'm only in my dressing robes, not proper clothes,” you shouted back. It felt silly, all the time you had spent with Legolas, all the wounds he saw on your body, to now be so proper with him.

Then again it probably didn't feel that long to the elven prince. Maybe you were just a blip in his long years. “When has that ever bothered me?” he shouted from outside your door once again assuming this was an invitation in.

You gasped slightly as he walked around the door and his eyes fell on you. Poor Legoland now understood what you had meant. These weren't just any dressing robes provided by the elves. These were man-made dressing robes. Almost entirely sheer.

He has never seen in you something so overtly feminine… not that he minded either way. Gender was almost entirely irrelevant to him. Your face was raw. You had been crying. His giddy face fell with the sight of your fallen state.

Ignoring your basically exposed body. He joined your side, “Why are you crying?” he asks as his weight pushes the bed down beside you. Your mind races with awful thoughts.

All of them seem to get a little better as Legolas’s hand and arm reach around your shoulders. Your emotions drain any chance of resisting his affections. Your head falls on his slender shoulder. “I know that I as a human will never compare to the beauty of an elf,” you whisper, your lips dry and raw from wiping your tears.

“I don't think that to be true-” Legolas' comment doesn't reach your ears as you continue. “But even amongst humans, I'm nothing special. Am I so undeserving of love?” you ask as your tears are unable to drip anymore.

“How dare you speak so unsavory of my dear companion,” he says in a joking manner. It doesn’t help. Clearly, this wasn't going how he wanted to do this. “I shouldn't jest, tell me, what bothers your heart,” he asks, rubbing your shoulder with his thumb.

You roll your eyes in response, shying away from his touch. “I want to lie in bed with you, Legolas,” you confess. Now he really knew not to joke after hearing such words. He felt a jump in his lower belly, a feeling he was more than familiar with.

“I want your hands to cherish every part of my body, your beautiful fingers exploring every part of my figure. My body burns for you, and I am unworthy of such fantasies.” your words way heavy in the room.

Tension thick as your eyes avoid his gaze. Your eyes shifted looking at the ground as he watched you like a hawk. His pants get tighter as he learns how badly you need him.

It was in moments like this that showed how young Legolas truly is. His body turned into a limp servant for your every desire. It was time to do what he had been dreaming of doing to you since he laid his eyes on you.

His hands found the sides of your face as he shoved his tongue into your mouth. His elven tongue makes quick work of showing you just how completely and utterly enamored with you. When hands found his hair deepening the kiss the elven prince moaned into your mouth.

He pressed his hips into you as you slowly lay down. “Your body has never left my mind. Every curve and scar and stretch mark makes my elven blood turn to the hottest fire…” he confessed. His diligent fingers slowly remove your sheer dress. Your bare body is being revealed.

You waited self-consciously as the prince eyed your body down properly with no film to hide you. His face morphed into a pink that went from pointed ear to pointed ear.

“You are a light in this dark world. I have always found myself drawn to you as if you are the arrow to my heart's bow," he whispered to you as he pulled away from your eyes to move all the way down to your thighs.

His soft mouth sucked and bit on every available place of skin available to him. You moaned lying back. “Never speak so lowly of yourself again or I can assure you I will have some choice words to share with you dear,” he said stern but soft as his teeth grazed your exposed body.

“Legolas please I need you,” you whispered. His pleasant teasing was well… Pleasant but it left you a desiring ache in between your legs.

This wasn't your first encounter with something of this nature. Far from it but you had a sneaking suspicion this was going to be different. “As you wish,” he smirked deliciously, standing up.

He gingerly rid himself of his clothes making sure to show off his figure to you. He didn't need to. He was beyond beautiful. Lean muscles decorate his chest and arms. The low glow from the candles behind him illuminates his blonde hair. Your eyes trail below his skinny waist.

Where he was decidedly less skinny. You do not know the average size of an elf but by human standards, your dear prince far exceeded even a dream of what he would look like.

He must have seen your eyes widen ever so slightly, as he smirked again. “You seem nervous, Meleth Nín,” he says, his voice oozing confidence. Not in the slightest concerned. “You are very beautiful, my prince. Very beautiful indeed,” you whispered the last part, eyes dropping to his hard member.

In that sacred space, the once cold room now feeling warm, the blonde elf knelt before you, not as a prince, or as an elf but as a devoted friend and possible lover. "Let me honor you, not just with words, but with every fiber of my being. Estelio nin,” he said getting closer and closer to your exposed and dripping cunt.

“Legolas,” you whined, narrowing your eyes. He seemed to humor you, his long tongue taking a stripe up your cunt. Your eyes flutter shut as you arch your back. You feel him hum against you as he continues to ravish your cunt slowly making sure no part is left untouched.

His slender fingers grip into the plush fat of your thighs. His cold rings add a welcoming sensation. “Oh gods,” you whispered, feeling your finish slowly approach as he made out with your sex. Legolas didn't say anything, simply humming against you again making you tingle all over.

Suddenly his pale hand went from digging into your thigh flesh to using his manicured thumb to rub gently but quick circles on your clit which only pushed that so-desired feeling further. “Can I please? I need it please, my prince.” you gasped out the pleasurable feeling flooding your veins.

“Have your release, use my tongue to guide your pleasure.” he nearly whispers against you. Oh and use him you did. It was a short 30 seconds later as you felt his tongue hit just the right spot, your legs shook before your pleasure overwhelmed your senses and you barely recognized Legolas lapping up your juices.

Your eyes flutter open to see Legolas crawling on top of you, his hard leaking member brushing against your stomach. The sight itself was enough to have you wanting even more. Instead, your prince’s right hand found its way to your jaw.

You tasted your own self and his tongue as he nearly replicated what he was doing moments ago with you only higher up this time. “Are you ready to feel how beautiful I see you are? How your body overtakes my Elvish mind?” he asked, pulling away from your mouth and whispering down into your ear.

You don't reply so shocked at every sensation you feel. “I know you're nervous but there is no need to be,” he purred. “My tongue has gotten you ready enough Meleth Nín, it should only hurt a moment. Are you ready?” he asked, dragging his hand up your body, cherishing it like it was a beautiful statue.

You nodded, keeping your eyes trained on him. “Words my human love.” he reminded you, his finger brushing your cheek. “Yes I'm ready,” you whisper.

In the next few moments, you can only remember the feeling of his length stretching you out. He was right it hurt for a second but as you took deep breaths and relaxed it started to feel less painful and more full. A good feeling, his hand locked with yours, his forearm just above your head.

He pushes in and out so gently. He is talking to you or maybe just to himself but you can't quite hear him over the feeling of your bodily organs rearranging. Your wanton moans fill the room.

“Le annon veleth nín,” he whispers to you, you aren't sure what it means but it must mean something to him as Legolas has removed himself from your lips as he is now bucking into your hips with his forehead resting on yours.

You feel the sensation burning through you again, and your Elvish love must have to for he was whispering rapidly in Elvish against your skin. “Le hannon… Le hannon.” he was saying. You couldn't hold on anymore, your hands found the back of his neck as your walls fluttered around him.

The cause and effect of your body accepting his love caused his release as well. He curses as you feel his seed spurt onto your walls. It doesn't take long for his rapid breaths to catch up to him as he sits up from being on top of you.

He pulls out as slowly as he can to not hurt you any. His attempt mostly fails as you whine from the loss of feeling. “I know I know I'm here for you, right here. Let's go take a bath, my beautiful ok?” he asks, pinching your side.

You giggle squirming away from him with a smile. You were beyond exhausted. Legolas disappears for a few minutes before returning, picking you up with zero hesitation. His elven strength almost quiets any insecurities you may have.

He places you in a wooden bathtub filled with warm water and herbal remedies for all your aches and pains. Legolas slips in behind you, at first he just slowly kisses your neck letting you relax before taking some soaps and washing your body and hair thoroughly.

Each body part he scrubs he made sure to tell you just how beautiful you were. It helped of course. But healing scars like this aren’t going to take just one magical night with an elf prince, no matter how badly you wanted that to be true.

After you were body washed and rinsed Legolas helped you and your shaky legs into a very nice robe. He sat you down on a chair in the ginormous bathroom. “Wait here I will return in a moment,” he said gently.

And wait you did before he returned clothed. He helped dry you and applied the softest moisturizer ever to your skin. You could perhaps get used to this. Before leading you to the bed which he has changed the sheets and blanket of.

An outfit similar to his was placed on the bed in your size. He helped you get dressed again, sliding his hand up and down your body. “You have never been and never will be less than anything but desirable. You must understand that if we are to begin courting,” he told you to lift your chin with his hand.

You look down shyly at his words. “Why didn't you tell me this before? Why am I hearing of your affections just now?” you ask sitting on the bed. “A beautiful woman doesn't need to be told that she's beautiful. For you are so much more than your body, you have an excellent mind as well. That's what I chose to speak about. Out of respect for you.” he said, joining your side.

It made more sense now than it ever had. Still, it was going to take a while for these unwanted feelings to deplete.

[silver-inked-quill]

Hiiii, can I have legolas x reader with fluff and a little bit of smut, where legolas is so tired doing duties, he needs cuddling with his fiance.

Whispers before dawn

Pairing: Legolas x FemReader

Words: 1225

Warnings: slight intimate description

masterlist | request list

The hour was yet veiled in shadow, long before Anor's light dared touch the sky. I stirred from slumber, only to find the place beside me empty, the warmth of his presence long gone. A quiet dread stirred in my chest—not of danger, but of distance. Wrapping the silken folds of my robe around me, I rose in silence, my feet whispering against the marble as I left our chambers.

The halls lay in a hush more profound than usual, the glow of the wall sconces barely holding back the darkness. The torches flickered low, casting long, uncertain shadows along the corridor. I walked unheard, unseen, as though I were part of the gloom itself. My heart guided me through the cold halls until I reached the throne room. It stood empty, vast and echoing. I let out a breath that rang louder than expected, filling the hollow space.

Disquiet tugged at me still. My steps led me past the meeting halls—the once seldom-used chamber where now generals gathered too often, the round table bearing the weight of war. It was deserted tonight, and silence lingered like a ghost. Finally, I came to the door of his study. I paused not to knock but let my presence slip in like mist through a cracked window.

He was there.

His head rose sharply at my entrance, surprise flashing in his sea-bright eyes. “My love,” he whispered, his voice a balm of sorrow and tenderness. He crossed the space to me, his hand reaching to tuck a wayward curl behind my ear, his palm cradling my cheek. “Is aught amiss? Did something disturb your rest?”

“Only your absence,” I murmured, my words softer than a breeze beneath starlight. I rose on my toes to brush my lips to his. He sighed, a weary sound, and drew me close, his brow resting gently against mine.

“I have tasks yet to tend, duties that cannot be delayed. But I promise, meleth-nin, it shall not be long before these burdens pass,” he whispered.

I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, finding it tangled and untamed. “You speak thus for the third night in succession, and still, I find our bed cold and your warmth afar. What chains hold you from me so tightly?”

He stepped back, a shadow crossing his fair features. He turned away, rubbing his temples, his back bowed beneath an unseen weight.

“Aragorn’s son is ill,” he said at last, voice hushed. “The Queen frets, and my friend believes the child safest under constant watch. I offered counsel and aid.”

I moved closer, crossing my arms, my tone now edged with disapproval. “Why conceal this from me? Arwen is like a sister to me. You know I would wish to help her, to ease her burden in this hour.”

He looked up, conflict flickering behind his gaze. “Because,” he said, stepping forward and placing a protective hand upon my abdomen, “I would not see our heir endangered. You carry my heart within you, and I could not risk fatigue or sorrow pressing too heavily upon you.”

My breath caught. His words held both affection and chains. I reached out, my fingers curling at his collar.

“You forget,” I said quietly, “that I have faced darkness at your side. Do not shield me as if I were glass. I would rather shatter beneath the truth than waste away in ignorance.”

He winced, guilt passing over his expression like a shadow upon moonlight. “You are no fragile thing, I know this. But I fear what I cannot fight—sickness, fate, grief. These foes wear no faces.”

I cupped his face gently, stroking his cheek with my thumb. “Then do not face them alone.”

He took in a breath, shaky, and rested his brow to mine once more. “Forgive me.”

“Only if you return to me,” I whispered, my voice threaded with need and love. I pressed my lips to his again, and he deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down to my waist. In a single fluid motion, he guided me toward the desk behind him.

“Your wife missed you,” I murmured between kisses.

His lips curved against mine. “And I, her. Beyond measure.”

His fingers slipped beneath the robe, and in one reverent motion, he cast it from my shoulders. Cool air kissed my skin, followed swiftly by the warmth of his mouth upon the curve of my neck. I shivered, not from cold, but from the longing that had slumbered too long.

But as he lifted me to sit atop the desk, I placed a hand on his chest, halting him.

“Do you think this closeness shall mend what words have not?” I asked, not unkindly, but with searching in my voice.

He stilled. “No,” he answered honestly. “But it is where I remember how to begin.”

I studied him, the vulnerability behind the shield of his beauty. “Then speak to me first, Legolas Thranduilion. Speak plainly, not as a prince, but as a husband. Do you not trust me with your burdens?”

He exhaled. “I trust you more than all the stars that light the skies. But there is a part of me still caught in the whispering dark, where every loss echoes louder than hope. And I am ashamed that such a place yet lives in me.”

“And yet,” I said, “you are not alone. You never were. You carry burdens meant to be shared. Let me be the one who lightens them.”

He kissed my brow. “You are light in flesh, melethril-nin. I would be lost without you.”

This time, when he drew me to him, I did not resist. Our lips met in aching unity, and his hands cradled me as though he had been starved for my touch. I tangled my fingers in his hair, and he lifted me with strength that belied his weariness. The desk groaned beneath us, but the world outside could have vanished, and I would not have noticed.

Clothes fell like autumn leaves, forgotten and unnecessary. Our bodies found their rhythm, slow at first, as if relearning the sacred song of one another. He whispered to me in Elvish, endearments and promises flowing from his lips like a sacred chant.

When the final crescendo of our shared rapture subsided, I lay against him, our skin damp and flushed. He wrapped me in his arms, resting his chin atop my head, and we sat in the silence, bathed in the fading light of the lone candle.

“You will tell me things now,” I whispered.

“All things,” he replied.

“Even the ones that frighten you?”

“Especially those.”

And so we stayed, not as royalty nor as warriors, but simply as two souls who had found one another beneath the vast dome of the world, clinging to love as both refuge and fire.

Outside, the first blush of dawn kissed the horizon. But within those stone walls, it was spring once more.

“We’ve faced orcs, storms, and the weight of kingdoms,” I murmured with a sly smile, still curled in his arms, “but I daresay this is the first time we’ve risked your paperwork catching fire.”

He laughed softly, brushing my shoulder with his lips. “A scandal worthy of song,” he whispered, “but let us hope the ink dries before anyone comes searching for treaties.”

Hey there gentle readers,

At first i want to thank @atlastsomeonefinally because i enjoyed writing their request( I'll add to the spicy part and i will tell you when i do it)🫶🏼

I hope you are doing well, and you all take care of yourselves. Please comment your opinions, feedback is too important for a writer and always appreciated whether its good or bad🥰

If you want to see your prompt come to life do not hesitate to live a request, i may be a bit slow but it won't go unseen and unwritten:)

Until the next time take care of yourselves,

silvermist

[gloomwitchwrites]

We Won't Be Missed

Legolas x Female Elf Reader

Content & Warnings: mild sexual content, fade to black, kissing, sneaking away, flirting, fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

During a celebration in the Woodland Realm, Legolas suggests that the two of you sneak away for some alone time.

ao3 // main masterlist

Dedicated to @firelightinferno

Above you, the stars glimmer.

You don’t know how Legolas managed it, but the night sky is there, twinkling through pockets of canopy. Perhaps he sang to the trees, promised them sweet water or fair winds for their leaves to dance in. Whatever he did, they have opened up, revealing the dark sky and silvery bursts of light that break the inky expanse.

Smiling up at the dazzling lights, you twirl gently in a tight circle, the sheer fabric of your dress spinning with you. All around you, your fellow Elves dance by themselves or with a partner. Music plays, and there is gentle, contented laughter everywhere. It is a moment of celebration and of peace.

Warm hands grab hold of your waist but you’re not startled. Instead, you step into it, inhaling. A familiar woodsy scent fills your nostrils and then your lungs. Twisting in said grip, you find a face that you’d know anywhere.

His name hardly leaves your lips before he pulls you close.

“Legolas,” you breathe, voice nearly a sigh.

“My star,” he replies softly.

Heat creeps up your neck to inflame your cheeks. When it comes to public affection, Legolas is not one for boldness. He is typically subdued and reserved, and this singular moment is enough to surprise you.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you compliment, gesturing outward to indicate the room.

Legolas blushes slightly under the praise.

It is true, and he should take pride in what he has accomplished. The large hall is beautifully decorated, hinting toward the oncoming summer that will draw forth warmer weather and the migrations of different creatures. The forest will shift, and new life will emerge. Everything is in bloom. Everything is earthy and rich.

“Your approval is a comfort,” he responds in that soft tone.

You turn to face Legolas completely. “But is my approval the only one you seek?”

The answer is already known to you, but you want to remind him why he’s done all this in the first place. Birthdays are not often celebrated by the Elves because time moves differently. For those who have dwelled for hundreds if not thousands of years, birthdays become insignificant. They are small memories, sometimes completely forgotten.

Yet Legolas decided to celebrate anyway. For his father.

Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm, hasn’t celebrated anything since the death of his wife. Since that time, he has been stoic and cold. There has been celebrations and other such occasions, but Thranduil has either been absent or only made a brief appearance.

This party is a surprise. A way for a son to show his father that he cares.

Legolas turns in the direction of the throne, and you follow his gaze.

Thranduil is surrounded by his people. He is talking. Animated. A gentle smile on his face. The raven-haired woman sitting beside him says something, and Thranduil laughs, his smile widening.

You haven’t seen him this expressive in years.

“Do you think I’ve made him happy?”

You turn back to Legolas who gazes upon his father. The middle of his brow is tightly pinched.

“Your father?”

Legolas hesitates and then nods, like he isn’t entirely sure his father is appreciative of his efforts. When you don’t answer, Legolas tears his gaze away from his father and gives it to you. Before you is the man you love seeking validation.

“What do you think?” you ask softly, nodding toward the throne.

Legolas sighs and then glances back at his father. As Legolas watches, his features melt from hardness to peaceful contentment.

“You’ve done well,” you say. “He is happy.”

“He is,” sighs Legolas, a dreamy look on his face.

Smiling, you rest your head against his shoulder. Legolas wraps an arm around your waist and starts to sway to the music. Time passes, the two of you simply moving together, breathing in the essence of the other.

Legolas turns his head slightly, placing a quick kiss to the crown of your head. “Would you like to slip away?”

You pull back enough to glance up at him. Legolas’ smile is a bit sultry and it immediately warms you everywhere.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask curiously.

“We won’t be missed. We should take advantage of the opportunity.”

Private moments between the two of you have been scarce. Legolas may be your betrothed, but you hardly see him. Duty comes first, and sometimes that doesn’t always include you. A few hours alone would be nice. Perfect.

“I agree,” you answer, and Legolas beams. “Lead the way, my love.”

Legolas’ smile turns into a delighted grin. Sliding your hand into his, he guides you away from the dancing bodies and past the large casks of wine. No one turns to look or to question where the two of you might be off to. There is only your hand in his, and the teasing way he stops to push you into dark corners for chaste kisses before taking off again.

This boldness is new, and you find that you like it. He leads you to his private quarters, the place that will soon by your home. When the door completely shuts, Legolas pulls you into him, arms wrapping around your body like vines.

This time, his kisses are not chaste.

They are liquid heat and from it comes a burst of fire in your chest.

“Legolas,” you murmur, a hint of need in your tone. “My love.”

He only draws back enough to look into your eyes. His eyelids are heavy like he wants to devour you. A stuttering exhale leaves him, and then Legolas is grasping the side of your face, pulling you back to him.

Your bodies are pressed close. Hands roaming.

Elves mate only once. Legolas is it for you. There is to be a ceremony, but that is just a formality. To be skin to skin, to accept him into your body, is your acceptance of him.

Legolas’ hand slips between the delicate folds of fabric to graze over your bare thigh. You inhale sharply and Legolas steals the exhalation, his tongue delving for a taste. Your dress is nothing in his hands, the sheer material bunching as he touches.

“Is this too much?” he asks, voice raspy with need.

You shake your head, fingers digging into his shoulders. “No. I want more.”

Legolas hungrily draws you back to his mouth and your heart hammers in your chest. It is so loud it is all you hear.

To seal the bond, the two of you must become one. To be bare. Open.

The ceremony is only for the people.

“I love you,” murmurs Legolas against your lips. “With all my heart and all the stars in the sky.”

You grin. “And I love you. I never wish to be apart.”

Legolas makes a little purr in his throat. It sounds like contentment. “That will no longer trouble us come the end of summer.”

“Must we wait?” you ask softly. You slide your hands off his shoulders, bringing them to the twisted straps of your dress. You pull on them, drawing them over and down your shoulders. “I do not wish to.”

Legolas’ pale skin flushes before his mind catches up. “I cannot resist when you ask this sweetly.”

“That is why I asked,” you reply, matching his tone.

The dress falls from your body landing in a pool at your feet. His sultry gaze morphs into appreciation. His fingertips lightly trace over your flesh, leaving a trailing heat behind.

“Are you certain?”

“You are my betrothed. It is not wrong to want this.”

Legolas runs the back of his knuckles down your throat and over one breast. He leans forward, and sucks the nipple into his mouth. You moan, arching into him, one hand sliding to the back of his head. His other hand delves between your thighs, and that too twists your stomach into knots.

He brings that nipple to a stiff peak, and then moves to the other, his other hand still moving between your legs. That too springs to life, and then Legolas’ mouth trails further south over your stomach. Lower still to kiss between your thighs.

You gasp. Groan. Shudder as he learns your taste and brings you to an endless sea of stars.

“You are perfect,” he nearly growls, his words drifting upward to caress.

“I am yours,” you gasp out, fingers tangling in his silky hair.

He continues to explore with his tongue, and then he’s standing before you, removing his formal tunic, shedding all this clothes to match your own bareness.

“Let us go to bed,” you murmur, palms pressing against his bare chest.

Legolas’ hands slide to the backs of your thighs. He lifts and you’re locking your legs around his waist as he carries you to the bed. You cling to him, tasting yourself on him.

The bedsheets are cool against your back.

Legolas nuzzles the side of your face, his lips pressed against your ear as he speaks. “I shall give you no rest.”

[sachiko6243]

You shall have me

Summary: After a long and draining day, Legolas takes care of his girl in the most pleasurable way he knows...

Word count: 3048

Warnings: smut with some plot, oral, rougher sex, Dom! Legolas, sub! reader, mentioning of poly, Legolas being a tease. This contains adult content. Minors DNI!!

This is part of a fanfiction I write on Wattpad. Its called "the prophecy of the elven warrior" A fanfiction dealing with Visha the main character drawn between the Commander of the marchwardens and the prince of Mirkwood. Feel free to check it out, as I am almost finished with updating it. 😉🥰

He took me out of Haldirs arms, pulling me into a tight hug. “God, how I missed doing that all day.” He mumbled into my hair and I instantly relaxed against his chest, taking in his soft floral sent, that was so different to Haldirs strong sent of pine. Behind me, I could hear Haldir move around, seeing him vanish out of the door out of the corner of my eye. I knew it was his way of giving me and Legolas some well needed privacy.

The ellon holding me, immediately picked me up and pressed me against the wall. Out of reflex, I wrapped my legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders. Legolas narrowed his eyes, as desire slowly pushed itself to the front. I swallowed and looked up at him, at those beautiful blue eyes that had grown dark with need. When I ran my tongue over my lips, I heard him groan. "And?" I asked, heat pooling in my stomach. "What else did you miss?"

Legolas dipped his head, his lips just above my collar bone. "You." He whispered. Hot breaths fanning over my skin made me close my eyes and whimper out in lust, goosebumps rising all over my skin. "I want you." He repeated, his voice a low grumble against my skin.

I swallowed hard, as he pressed up against me, the feeling of his hard cock straining against his pants making my breathing go rigid. His hands let go of my waist; his lips skimming up to my ear. A sound rose from the back of my throat, something that felt like a purr. Warmth and desire washed over me again, and I grabbed onto Legolas collar, saying: "And you shall have me, however you wish to have me."

He pulled back, his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with passion. After the next inhale, his lips crushed onto mine. I was pulled into a darkened tunnel of desire. His kisses were deep, drugging me senseless. His tongue, all warm, luscious, and sinful, licked and probed its way into the warmth of my mouth. Whimpering helplessly, I looped my arms around his neck. My body already throbbing and aching, arousal pooling between my thighs, and he had just started kissing me.

There was no need to be hurried like those times in the middle of the night, when I helped him sneak into Haldir and my bedroom. His mouth devoured mine, leaving me breathless, and him oblivious to me working frantically on his clothes. “Slowly meleth.” He groaned when he felt his vest coming undone. “Slowly.”

Legolas grabbed my wrists to stop me. “Slowly.” He pulled away just enough, his mouth barely hovering over my lips. “Let’s make tonight count, hmmm?” His eyes had grown dark and dangerous. “How…” I started, but his warm breath fanning over my skin made reel up in need. Like Haldir, he was able to make me go weak in the knees just by the way he touched me, and he knew it. “How slow are we talking about?” I was finally able to press out.

“Very slow.” He whispered before dragging my face in for a kiss. “So slow…” He savored the lusciousness of his words. “…that by the time I’m done with you, you won't have an ounce of strength left in that beautiful body of yours.” He wore a wicked grin on his face, walking us over to the sofa in front of the fireplace. He gently laid me down, hovering over me before pressing a searing kiss to my cheek, just as gentle as when he laid me down.

“I’m gonna eat your pretty little pussy, nin iell.” He gingerly kissed me, fiddling with the strings of my dress. I was stunned at his sudden change in demeanor. Normally he wasn’t the one to demand things from me, leaving the rougher part to Haldir. But it seemed the more time we spent together, the bolder he got. Finally, ablet to loosen my dress enough, he shuffled it up my body, pulling it over my head.

“Fuck.” he breathed. “Feels like you’re trying to kill me, meleth.” Keeping his place between my legs, his arms trailed up my chest, playing with my tits. “So fucking gorgeous…” Placing my hands on his wrists, encouraging him to continue, I sighed “Legolas…” Head thrown back. I could swear his eyes darkened by four shades, swallowing his pretty blues into the abyss of his lust.

Moving from his place between my legs to help me remove my underwear in one swift motion, quickly getting right back to business as soon as he was able to. Once he was settled back between my thighs again, I could feel his hands gripping them tightly. “Such a pretty pussy you’ve got here, little one.” His face was so close to my center, his breath fanned against my skin with every word he said. “Can’t believe you’ve kept it from me for so long.” Littering my thighs with kiss after kiss, each time getting closer to my core.

“I haven’t.” I breathed out, my voice audibly shaking at his actions. He just tutted at my words. “I had to wait nearly 3000 years for you to step into my life. Only to then see you being married to another man. Forced to sneak around everyone’s back, only to be with you.”

My hands made their way to his hair, gently grasping his hair and tugging to emphasize my need for him. “Please, Legolas…”

“Please what, melui iell?” He mocked coyly.

“You know what.” My hips began to rise from the sofa, searching for some relief.

“Uh uh.” He moved his head further from where I wanted it the most. “I wanna hear you say it for me.”

“I… can you… I want you to eat me out, please?” Squeezing my eyes shut, not being able to look at him, as he finally connected his lips with my center. “Oh my GOD!” His tongue traced my clit lightly, barely giving much stimulation, but even that was enough to make my legs starting to quiver.

While his tongue tracing my clit felt absolutely amazing, nothing prepared me for feeling his tongue tracing along my soaked slit, before delicately prodding inside of me. “Holy shit, melethron!” I shrieked out, his tongue trailing back to my clit before I felt his finger slowly enter my pussy. He raised his mouth from my center, looking me straight into my eyes. “By Valar, how I love this.” His voice was nearly a growl. “That sweet pussy of yours hooked me the moment I had my first taste. And by all what is mighty, I will never stop worshipping it.”

He was passionate about pleasing me, humming at my skin. Making sure to wait for me to relax, welcoming the pleasure rather than being surprised by it, before he slowly started to thrust the single digit in and out of my core. I tossed my head back against the pillows at the feeling of his long fingers reaching parts of me that I could never reach myself.

“Fuck!” His finger found the perfect spot inside of me, curling to massage it gently and bringing me closer to the edge. My pussy pulsating in rhythm with his thrusts, the wet and messy sounds of my pleasure filling the room. I felt him moan, even more as he brought his free hand up my chest, pinching and pulling my nipple before switching to the neglected breast, simultaneously adding a second finger.  

I cried out for him. “I’m so close, please don’t stop! Please don’t stop!” My back began to arch off the sofa, as his ministrations went on, his fingers pounding into my pussy as his lips continued to suck eagerly at my clit. “Oh my…” I rasped, my voice hoarse and thin. “Legolas!” I yelled, as my orgasm washed over my all the sudden. Riding it out, as he refused to cease his actions on my body until I couldn’t take any more and ha to pull him away.

“I need you.” I said timidly, my gaze on the floor. “I need you inside of me.” It was weird telling him what I needed, having never spoken to him during sex other than the occasional begging, but it made me feel brave and…sexy. Legolas let out a shaky breath, his hands gripping my hips tightly.

"Do you need me, too?" I asked, my hand fingering the hem of his tunic. Where was this braveness coming from? I slipped my hand underneath his clothes, gently shoving the fabric down his shoulders. He got the hint, getting up from his knees and undressing himself, making a show for me to watch. He was tall and lean, like most elves were. His fair skin, scattered with scars from the many fights he had been in, giving his soft appearance a slight hint of roughness, that had me reeling in desire.

"You sound so needy.” He growled, watching me intently as I laid there, spreading my legs for him. "Is it me that's gotten you like this? Or your husband?" He shook his head, a cocky grin appearing on his lips. And I whined at his words when he included Haldir. "You are such a slut." He grinned, grabbing me by my neck and pulling me across the sofa to have more space to settle between my legs. But he didn’t. Standing next to me, he looked down with a smirk.

"I am more than ready to fuck you in front of him, too, if you want me to." He said, his voice a tad gentler. "I would fuck you in my father’s throne room to claim you." A hot shiver ran down my spine and fluttered inside my core. "I would have fucked my cum so deep inside you, until you are a crying mess for everyone to hear. And then I would have you walk back here. Nothing more than a ripped dress covering you, barely doing anything to keep your modesty, all while my cum runs down your thigh."

I winced at his word, closing my legs in embarrassment. Did he really mean that? "Legolas…" I started, "…that’s…" I was cut off with a loud moan pushing through my lips as he inserted two fingers. His fingers curled once more, and with it, my toes. "This pussy belongs to me." He pumped his fingers inside of me, slowly crawling on top of me. "Your pussy belongs to me."

Without a warning, his fingers abandoned my needy core, and taking their place was his cock. The thickness stretching me out, as the head of his penis pressed against my puffy walls. He pulled out quickly, then bottomed out once more. His hands gripped my hips in a bruising hold, his thrusts just as rough. I cried out each time he filled me up. It was too much, but not enough at the same time. He had never fucked me like this before, and I relished in it. Relished in the way Legolas balls slapped against me with a wet snap. Relished in the way he made a mess of me; my wetness being smeared around between us.

"I belong to you." I whimpered, back arching and hands gripped his biceps, as my nails dug into his flesh. Legolas thrusts faltered and he finally looked at me. He pulled me flush to his chest, my bare breasts against him. Gripping my chin and looking deep into my eyes. "Say it again."

"I'm yours, Legolas. Body and soul." I repeated, my voice slightly muffled by his fingers gripping my chin hard. Picking up his pace again, he let go of my face, grabbing both of my hands and burying them beneath his fingers.

Like a ravenous predator, his eyes meet mine. A pleasure visible inside of them, that was beyond my wildest dreams, the high I so desperately yearned for just a tad too far to reach. “Please.” I whimpered, finally completely pushed over the edge and into submission. His previously slow pace got replaced by a more moderate one that had me gasping for air. The searing heat returning, yet this time it is more than welcomed, much like his cock, leaving not a spot untouched in its way.

“Legolas…” I whispered, not able to do much more than moan or plead his name. My head hung back, lips parted and back arching as I gave myself into his hands. Soon my moans were accompanied by his groans, showing how much this affected him as well. It was the sound of his voice, growling my name followed by a string of elvish curses, that dragged me towards my release in fast steps.

“My prince…” I breathed out, loud enough to catch his attention. “More…” Arching my back against his chest, unable to fight his strong hold that held me in place as he pounded into me mercilessly.  “M-More, please” I rasped.

His response was letting go of one hand and grabbing ahold of my hips, as he kept on driving himself in as deep as possible, knocking the air straight out of my lungs, leaving me clutching onto his shoulder and hand. “It’s as if you are trying to send me over the edge.” His voice was low, unsteady. A mere shadow of its usual self. “My pretty petal, so eager to be ruined.” I was unable to even process his words. All I could sense was him, so I shrieked, when he let go of me and roughly manhandled my legs upwards.

With knees now brought to my chest, I could do nothing but claw at the pillows, as his strong hold kept me in place. The feeling of his cock more prominent than ever, as blind spots were slowly taking over my vision.

“Legolas!” I yelped, but my train of thought got interrupted by another thrust.

“This is what you requested, is it not?”

A mewl ripped from my throat, a series of pants and gasps filling the room before my jaw was in his grasp once more; forcing my gaze upon him. “It is what you begged me for. To give you more, is it not?”

Not being able to do much more than gape, I parted my lips, staring into baby blue hues now wild and firm, boring into my soul. Even though I stared at him, I could not focus on anything, all my attention on the snapping of his hips, the feeling of his tip touching that one bundle of nerves that made me cry out in desperation. “Th-There - There!”

My words were jumbled and slurred; my brain drunk from the bliss overtaking my body one tidal wave after another. I bucked my hips, frantic for that sensation to grow stronger. “Here?’’ He drove into my core again, prompting my eyes to fall back into my head. The only word I was able to say being his name and hushed pleads, interrupted by countless gasps, and mewls.

A familiar feeling started to rise within the pit of my stomach, sending all my senses into overload. It was blistering, devastating, and I was unsure how much longer I could hold on. With Legolas fingers now capturing my clit between his thumb and forefinger, combined with the heat of his kisses on my neck and shoulder, it was beyond what I could have ever asked for.

Searing, hot, like a rapid, undying fire my body started burning. With eyes barely opening I tried to warn him, yet my core did it for me. Walls clamping down, earning a curse in his mother tongue, as fresh, red marks now stained the skin of my hips.

“C-Can’t - I can’t.” I cried out, but he cut me off with his lips, dragging me into a kiss full of passion. Hunger, vigor, intense and demanding, that’s what crossed my mind as he kissed me. “Come, my princess.” His voice almost drowning in the hurdled cry that left my mouth after he parted from the kiss. “Come for me.”

It’s all I needed to hear, to finally shatter around him. My vision turning blurry, as a violent jerk overtaking my body, all the nerves tensed and contracted in pure bliss. It was blinding and fierce, and in a fervid moment, I arched my back, finally releasing the blistering heat inside of my body with a cry of his name. Surely heard by all elves of Mirkwood.

Trembling, that was all I could do. My frame hit the sheets, head spinning, as I was gasping for air. And I barely even noticed Legolas being brought to his own release a shuddering growl of my name falling from his lips. The once fervent snaps melting into nothing but a few bucks until he steadily came to a stop.

Once more, my swollen lips were captured by his own, slower, gentler this time, but still as passionate as ever. Unable to come up with much resistance, I merely hummed and leaned into him; sighing as his length retreated from my core, leaving behind an empty feeling.

It took a moment for him to gather his composure, but soon he got up, he was making a run for the bathroom to get a towel to clean me up. At least that’s what I assumed; my head still too fogged up to really comprehend anything beyond the tingly feeling inside my body. Within seconds, he was back, kissing every part of my body he could reach while cleaning me up. “Rest.” It was a quiet whisper. “You did so well, meleth nin.” He sighed, pressing a peck to my mouth. “But for now, rest.”

I could feel him picking me up and carrying me through the room. The next thing I noticed was being sat down on a soft surface and a second warm body cuddling behind me. The smell of pine filled my nose and I immediately relaxed. “Haldir…” I whimpered, trying to turn around, but he firmly held me in place. “Shh, nin iell. Its alright. Sleep now. We are here.” Closing my eyes, I registered Legolas climbing into the bed as well. Cuddling into his side, I fell asleep, Haldir pressed against my back.

[elvenhub]

could you write something with Legolas comforting reader (physical affection please 🙏🙇‍♀️) after a bad day? he sees her and instantly can tell something is wrong. thank you!!!

₊˚ ✰` ꒱ DELICATE

��˳⋆ FEATURING : legolas x fem!reader ❨ comfort ៸៸ fluff ៸៸ established relationship ❩ ⟡˳⋆ WC : 0.4k ⟡˳⋆ NOTES : apologies for leaving this in my inbox for so long i wanted to save it to write it during a bad day of my own loool…legolas would 100% be supremeee at comforting reader ‼️🙏 ty again for sending a req <33

WHEN THE PRINCE SEES YOU in your crestfallen state, his arms instinctively reach out. Your sights lay on the ground before you through half lidded eyes, an overwhelming vulnerability prodding at your back as he approaches with a slender hand outstretched. He cups your cheek as he leans in to press a soft kiss onto your temple while a strong arm encircles your waist from behind.

There are no words needed in this moment of such tender care, but he uses them anyway as he engulfs you in his safe embrace. “My starlight…” He breathes. You turn to face him and immediately bury your face into his chest, eyes clenching shut with a feeble attempt to halt your incoming tears, yet they seep into his tunic and dampen the icy blue into a mass of grey, and when you look up to meet his softened gaze he can barely withhold the sight. “What troubles you?” He says, catching a freshly fallen tear with his thumb. Revealing your burdens proves much harder than you can handle at the moment, with a relentless lump that barricades your throat from speaking. You bring your palm up to brush over your dampened cheeks, and through your misty vision you see the gentle look of utter concern presented on his features. You lean your forehead onto his chest, clutching the fabric of his tunic and breathing deeply to gather yourself in an attempt to preserve what remaining composure you still possess. He listens with patience while you murmur softly through trembling breaths of the day you had, not once freeing you from his arms as he offers words of comfort and understanding.

What is it about the prince that compels you to fall apart with little restraint? Did it have anything to do with the delicate way in which he handles you? How he takes hold of your hand and guides you to lay your head on a pillow as he prepares you tea with only the freshest of herbs? Perhaps it was how his arms cocoon you into a nestled entanglement, kissing away the lone tear that slides down your cheek with hushed assurances. Maybe it was the way he spoke to you long after you are lulled to sleep, hands running up and downs your back in a slow caress while he whispers things of only love and support to you so you are reminded of his eternal devotion, even as you dream.

[maycat-19-142]

Legolas x elf reader

A/n: I just finished the lotr for the 4 time and wow I forgot how long it is

⚠️:battles, fluff, PDA, gender neutral reader. Let me know if I missed anything

You are a elf from a different region

You were sent to help and the moment legolas saw you

He almost died

You had a different look than most elfs

Your hair was styled non traditionally and your ear had cuffs on them

His first words to you were "hello you are gorgeous"

"Thank your not to bad your self" you said giving a hand for a hand shake

You Because close after you help him with herbs that are from your region that he was unfamiliar with

He found out you were one of the descendants of elfs that broke away thousands of years ago and you loved in the forests with monsters

You help him with monsters and different languages

He helped you with fighting and cooking

It was a very balanced thing

When you confessed was after you almost died in battle

He immediately found you and confessed his love

Nothing really changed after that but more PDA and he was more protective

Gimile lives to tease him and not you

So he will try not to hurt gimile but no promises if you're not around

Over all you love him and he loves you

Have a good day and night 🌙

Pixie out 🧚‍♀️

[entishramblings]

I will be posting a Legolas/Fem!Reader fic tomorrow!

If you would like to be tagged, please fill out my taglist form HERE

Stay tuned ;)

[rottencherrypie]

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

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

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

Pronouns & POV - None, third-person

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

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

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was truly a natural at his craft.

[faeriichaii]

hi!! i’ve never requested smth before but your writing is so good im gonna give it a shot💫 could i request a legolas x human reader where she somehow accidentally touches his pointy ears not knowing that they’re sensitive for elves and legolas asks her to keep doing it (fluff/like half smut more like teasing maybe?) and legolas is just this soft baby who begs her for her touch 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Sensitive ~ Legolas x Human!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much!! You're like so sweet <33 Oh that sounds very interesting 🤭 I like the idea!! I think I once read like one with a bunch of the elves where the reader accidentally touches their ears and like!! So I hope you enjoy the story <33 (and ngl I was so close to turn it into a smut rip)

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Warnings: fluff, lil bit smut (if you squint your eyes) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Words: 875 ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Request: Yes (thank you <33) ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Meleth Nin ~ My Love ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Aini Nin ~ My Angel ࿐ྂ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Gi Melin ~ I love you ࿐ྂ

Summary: You knew that Legolas could endure quite a lot, but what you did not expect is his reaction to touching his pointy ears

You loved keeping watch during the night. Everything seemed so calm and quiet and it was the only time of the day where you really get the chance to be by yourself. Where you get the chance to think about everything that happened so far and everything that still has to come. Sometimes Legolas joins you during your watch times. These were your favourite moments with him. You always have the most wonderful talks and share your thoughts with each other.

Being alone with him fills you up with joy and warmth. One could almost say you get drunk by his intoxicating charm that he shares specifically with you. Both of you were once more sitting on the logs, around a fire that has been put out for quite some time now, talking about the future ahead. “Do you think your father will like me?” You suddenly asked him, using a stick to draw a heart onto the dirt beneath you. “There is no way he could not. He will adore you as much as I do Aini Nin.”

A bashful smile graced your lips, as you wrote your initial, as well as his into the heart. “I can’t wait to meet your hometown my love. And your father. I want to see everything and get to know all about Mirkwood.” Looking up at him, you caught him already staring at you. His eyes were shining with love and care for you. “And I wish to visit your hometown. Learn all about your family and the customs you share.”

His arm snaked around your waist, in order to pull you into his warm side. Dropping the stick you used for your small drawing, you leaned into him. “Do you think we should take Gimli with us?” A laugh escaped Legolas lips at the thought of the dwarf running around the palace grounds. “I think that would either end up in multiple deaths or banishment on his side.” Chuckling at his response, you leaned your head onto his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I love you.” You said, gazing up at him lovingly. “Gi melin, Meleth Nin.” He gave you a soft kiss on the lips, which you immediately reciprocated. You still were looking at him, shining in the moonlight like an angel sent from heaven, as you noticed one of his braids getting loose. “Oh Legolas, can I re-braid your hair?” “Of course.” With that you stood up to take your place on his lap. His hands gently laid on your waist, as you undid his hairdo.

“I wish I had soft hair like you do.” You said, brushing your fingers through his white strands. “Your hair is already perfect as it is Aini Nin.” He softly whispered, as he leaned into your touch. A gentle smile graced your lips. Quickly giving him a loving kiss on his temple, you resumed your work on his hair. Parting the strand into a few sections, you began to weave your fingers through them. The quietness of the forest was interrupted, as Legolas let out a hitched breath. You raised an eyebrow at the sound that escaped him but continued to braid his hair.

His hands tightened around your hips, as your fingers accidentally brushed against his ear. You noticed that his ears slowly gained a red colour by the tips. A smirk played on your lips, as you let your hand brush against his pointy ear once more. Legolas let out another shaky sigh. “Are you alright my love?” You asked him, playfulness evident in your words. “Yes, it’s just… my ears. They are sensitive.” A little giggle left your lips, as you abandoned the braid and instead focused on his ear. You gently let your fingers trail along the pointy form. The elf underneath you let out a soft whine at your touch, slightly leaning into your hand.

His breathing got ragged, hips also moving up into you while pressing you down on him. “Should I stop Meleth Nin?” You innocently asked, playing with the tip of his ear. “No, please. Don’t stop.” A whine followed his words, as you put your other hand around his other ear, massaging both of them equally. Warmth spread through your body at the sounds that escaped your lover underneath you. The elven prince tried his best to keep as subtle and quiet as possible, in order to not wake up the others around you. “Do you love it when I play with your beautiful elven ears?” “Yes.” His breathy answer was muffled, as he hid his face in your neck. “Please don’t stop.” He whispered, giving you a gentle kiss on the exposed skin. Legolas cheeks were rosy and so were your own. You knew that elves could endure quite a lot, but you did not expect them to have wobbly knees after just a touch to the ears.

Suddenly you stopped your little ministration, making the prince underneath you whine sadly. “I am sorry my love, but you don’t want to wake the others now, do you?” You said, smirking slightly at his flustered expression. His hands tightened around your waist, as he brought you closer. His warm breath hit your ear. “You are going to regret this.”

[gulnarsultan]

💞

Hello there! Hi, hey I really like your Thranduil x Reader stories! I have a suggestion if you are taking any!

Thranduil is used to others trying to get close to him, being overly kind to get a favor. Or even the most bold being unnecessarily flirty in hopes of getting his favor. Why does reader stand out? Because they are kind to his son, his young son Legolas. Most usually brush the young prince off, but you? You actually listen and care for Legolas like he was your own.

And what better way to get into the heart of a King than through his son?

Through the Eyes of a Child

The halls of Thranduil’s grand palace had always been filled with whispers. Elves seeking favor, nobles using honeyed words, warriors boasting their latest victories in hopes of earning his approval. Thranduil had seen it all—flattery, manipulation, and, at times, even seduction. Yet, none of it impressed him. None of it mattered.

What did matter was the boy who ran through those halls, golden-haired and bright-eyed, a prince who was often overlooked by those vying for the king’s attention.

Legolas had grown up in a world where he was acknowledged, respected even, but rarely truly seen. He was a child, and in the courts of the woodland realm, children were meant to be well-mannered, obedient, and silent. Most elves bowed to him as they passed, speaking to him only when necessary, their interest feigned.

But then there was you.

From the moment you entered Thranduil’s court, you had been different. You had not tried to charm him, nor had you sought to curry favor with his advisors. Instead, your attention had gone to the one who needed it most—the child left in the shadow of a king.

You had knelt before Legolas the first time you met him, speaking to him as an equal rather than an obligation. You had asked about his training, about his interests, about his thoughts, as if they truly mattered. And to him, they did.

The first time Thranduil had noticed, it had been a passing observation. He had been seated upon his throne, listening to reports from the border patrol, when he caught sight of you in the courtyard. Legolas had been talking—excitedly, passionately—and you had been listening, nodding, smiling, engaging in a way that no one else had bothered to do.

His son had laughed then, and Thranduil had paused mid-sentence. He had not heard that sound in quite some time.

That was when the king first took notice of you.

Legolas had always been an eager learner. He adored archery, much to his father’s pride, and he had a sharp mind when it came to strategy. But he was still young, and youth, no matter how noble, carried uncertainty.

“I do not think I will ever be as good as the others,” Legolas had confessed to you one evening in the training yard, his small hands gripping his bow tightly.

You had crouched beside him, adjusting his stance with gentle hands. “Great warriors are not made in a day, little prince,” you had said. “They are made through patience, through practice, and through belief in themselves.”

Thranduil had been watching from the shadows, unseen, unheard, as he so often was. He had expected you to offer words of encouragement, but what he had not expected was the unwavering sincerity in your voice, the depth of care in your touch as you adjusted his son’s fingers over the bowstring.

No one spoke to Legolas like that. No one took the time.

That night, the boy had gone to bed with a smile, clutching his training bow like a prized possession.

Thranduil had remained awake long after.

It became routine. Every day, Legolas would seek you out. Every day, Thranduil would catch glimpses of your interactions. Sometimes, it was as simple as a walk through the gardens, where Legolas would babble about whatever fascinated him that week, and you would listen as if it were the most important tale ever told. Other times, it was training, your patience never faltering as you guided him through forms and techniques.

What struck Thranduil the most was how natural it all seemed. You did not dote on the boy in the way some might to gain favor. You did not feign interest for the sake of appearances. You cared.

And Thranduil found himself watching more closely than he intended.

There was something disarming about you, something that made him uneasy, not in fear, but in unfamiliarity. He was used to seeing others through the lens of skepticism, always questioning their intentions. But with you, he saw no ulterior motive.

That unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

One evening, Thranduil found himself in the library, lost in thought as the fire crackled beside him. It was a rare moment of solitude, one he found himself needing more often these days.

A quiet voice interrupted him.

“You are thinking too much.”

He turned, raising a brow at you. You stood in the doorway, hands folded behind your back, your expression neither intimidated nor bold—just honest.

“That is an accusation few dare to make,” Thranduil remarked, amusement threading through his voice.

You shrugged. “Few see past the crown.”

A pause. He studied you then, truly studied you, as he had so often done from afar. But this was different. This was not a stolen glance through a crowd, nor a fleeting observation from a distance. This was face to face, eye to eye.

“You care for him,” Thranduil said at last. It was not a question.

You nodded. “I do.”

“Why?”

The simplicity of the question caught you off guard, but you did not hesitate in your answer.

“Because he deserves it.”

Honesty. Again, that disarming honesty.

Thranduil leaned back, exhaling through his nose as he considered your words. “And what do you hope to gain from it?”

Your brow furrowed. “Nothing.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. He only watched. And in that silence, something shifted.

Thranduil had spent years building walls around himself, fortresses of cold logic and caution. He did not let people in easily, nor did he trust without reason. But you? You had found a way past his defenses without ever trying to breach them.

Not through deception. Not through charm.

Through kindness. Through sincerity.

Through his son.

And Thranduil, for the first time in many, many years, found himself wondering what it would be like to lower his walls just a little.

Just enough to let you in.

Time passed, and your relationship with Legolas changed. One day, as you walked along the riverbank, you suddenly heard a shout.

Legolas stood a few feet away, gripping a sword, his stance tense yet eager. His blue eyes shone with determination as he pointed the blade at you.

— I want to test myself. Fight me. — His voice was firm, though there was a trace of hesitation in it.

You blinked a few times, surprised by the challenge, before a sly smile curled on your lips.

— Your Highness, are you sure you can defeat me? ~

Legolas mumbled something under his breath, shifting slightly where he stood.

— I'll at least try... — he admitted, a little embarrassed.

But before he could react, you lunged at him—not with a sword, but with open arms. Swiftly dodging his blade, you tackled him to the ground, sending both of you tumbling onto the soft riverbank.

— Ah! — he let out a startled yelp, but his surprise quickly melted into bright laughter.

You joined him, your own laughter spilling out as you held him down. The golden-haired prince laughed so freely, so genuinely, that the very air around you seemed to shimmer.

Something was happening.

The riverbank—so quiet moments ago—now pulsed with warmth, the golden glow of tiny lights flickering like fireflies around you both. The very essence of the place shifted, embracing the joy radiating from your shared laughter. Such a phenomenon was rare. Emotions, in their purest form, could sometimes imprint themselves upon the world, leaving a permanent mark, but only if they were powerful enough to be accepted by nature itself.

High above, from a shaded path, Thranduil watched.

The scroll in his hands nearly slipped from his grasp as he took in the sight before him.

It had been centuries since he last witnessed something like this.

His lips parted slightly, and he murmured, almost to himself:

— Legolas...

At the sound of his father's voice, the young prince quickly rose from the grass, his expression alight with joy. He sprinted toward Thranduil, who, despite his usual restraint, opened his arms just enough to embrace his son.

Meanwhile, you pushed yourself up on your elbows, brushing a few strands of hair from your face as you looked up at the king. Meeting his gaze, you smiled.

Thranduil released Legolas and stepped toward you, lowering himself onto the grass beside you with effortless grace.

You raised an eyebrow.

— Your Highness, it is not proper for a king to sit like this on the grass.

He didn't even blink at your words. Instead, he regarded you for a long moment before finally speaking.

His voice was steady. Certain.

— Will you become my wife?

[wild-lavender-rose]

What Comes After - LOTR

Pairing: Aragorn x fem!reader, Legolas x fem!reader, Boromir x fem!reader, Faramir x fem!reader, Elrond x fem!reader

Category: Preferences/NSFW

Summary: What they would say/do after you've cum hard for them

Warning: NSFW, insinuation of sex, aftercare

Legolas-

Whispered elvish between stuttered gasps of air

"Are you all right?"

Hovering over top of you, brushing the hair from your face, cradling your cheek as your body shivers from the aftershocks of pleasure

"I'm here, you're safe. I'm here."

Light kisses on your face

Holding you carefully as you both steady your breathing

Aragorn-

Shushes you as you gasp and shake, rubbing soothing circles against your thighs and hips while you come down from the high

Whispers assurances as he lays beside you, continuing to rub your sides and arms while watching your expressions closely

He smiles when you do, relieved that you're okay and he hasn't pushed you too far

Will run his fingers through your hair and compliment you on your performance

Gathers you into his arms the moment you reach for him, holding you close and whispering his love for you over and over again

Boromir-

Is initially proud of himself and the fact you're a quivering, gasping mess

His smirk fades as your breath remains stuttered, holding himself up over you

"Are you all right?"

You nod but he doesn't believe you

Flips over and moves you so that you're laying on top of him

Rubs your back and cards his fingers through your hair as your body relaxes at the sound of his heartbeat

Still pretty proud of himself

Faramir-

Would think he had done something wrong

Kiss you all over, assessing you with worried eyes

Would hold you the moment you reached for him

Gazing into your eyes, whispering again and again "I'm here, I'm here"

You would kiss him deeply to assure him that you were fine, a kiss he would gratefully return

Elrond-

He would encourage you to cum one more time for him even after you've cum so hard

Would kiss you once you're totally spent, slow and deep

Whisper elvish in your ear

Would leave briefly to gather some wine, a basin of hot water and a cloth

Sponge bathes your sweaty, heaving body, leaving a trail of kisses in between

Helps you to drink some wine

Would hold you carefully, talking about everything and nothing as you fall asleep

Fanfic Masterlist

[kaitlyn-imagines]

Hey hey, so I saw ur requests were open and that you write for LOTR so I was hoping to get a fem!reader x Legolas fic!

I’ve seen a few stories play with the idea of braids being like, intimate or romantic in elf culture and the reader accidentally confessing to Legolas by braiding his hair? Like, reader braids his hair without knowing the significance and Legolas thinks they’re confessing, real sweet misunderstanding type stuff!!

I think it would be real fun, however, to get a fanfic where the reader braids his hair as a confession but Legolas assumes she doesn’t know what it means cause she’s human! Like, the reader knows the significance of braiding to elves but Legolas doesn’t know that she knows, so she’s trying to figure out why it’s not working while Legolas is trying not to make things awkward by confronting her!

I hope I explained my idea well, I tend to struggle with describing things. If you’re not fully sure what I mean you can also just go with the first accidental confession concept as well!! It’s still real cute

Also, sorry for making this a tad long!! I just wanted to rly make sure to properly communicate my thoughts

Hope you’re having a good day/night :))

This is such a cute idea! Very rom-com haha. Congrats on being my first official LOTR fic, its lowkey intimidating with all the lore and history in canon buuut we persevere for hot men hehe

Legolas Greenleaf x Human!Reader

Warnings: Love confessions, mild spice at the end I don’t speak Sindarin/Silvan so sorry if these are poor translations lol

Words: 1494

The air felt cool and comfortable, and the sound of mellifluous, layered birdsong carried on the wind as it weaved through the branches of the Mirkwood trees. Small patches of dappled sunlight managed to break past the thick canopy above, illuminating your book as you sat cross-legged atop a monstrously large tree root. The root itself was nearly your twice your height in diameter, and appeared more like a bridge as it stretched across a trickling creek just eight feet below.

You hummed softly to yourself, eyebrows slightly furrowed as you studied the current page of your book. The book itself was written in Sindarin on ancient yellowed paper, though this did not serve as a hinderance to you.

You were a renowned scholar, hailing from the human kingdom of Gondor, with your primary discipline of study being Elven history and culture. As such, you’ve spent the past two years on sabbatical, immersing yourself in the region of Northern Mirkwood.

During your time in the Woodland Realm, you were pleased to have earned the honor to be considered part of the elvellyn, or elf-friends. Nearly more-so, you were pleased to also have formed a strong friendship with the prince of Mirkwood, who sat before you now.

You traced the illustration in your book, following the patterns of braids with your eyes before lifting them to where Legolas had his back to you. He was a perfect example of stillness. Your hands held the strands of his long hair gingerly, and you twisted one of the pieces over the other in the same fashion as your book displayed.

Your hands were slow and methodical, determined to braid his hair as authentically as possible to the source material. After all, different Elven braids held cultural significance, and you wanted to ensure you got your meaning across successfully.

Often, the act of braiding one’s hair was a sign of emotional intimacy—certain braid patterns were used amongst soldiers to garner good luck before a battle, while others were purely reserved for the bond between mother and child. The current pattern you were practicing on Legolas, however, was neither of these. It was a symbol of romantic affection—a confession, so to speak.

When you’d first asked Legolas to let you braid his hair, he gave you little to no reaction. He simply agreed to help you practice, and sat with you now in a companionable silence. Certainly not the reaction you had expected, especially considering the significance of the braid you had selected to do.

Were you doing it wrong? You glanced down at the book again, double checking your work thus far, but as expected, you had weaved the blonde strands in a flawless imitation. You bit the inside of your cheek, and were grateful his back was turned to you so he did not see your confuddled expression.

Meanwhile, Legolas was holding his breath as he sat before you. Your graceful fingers played with his hair with all the tenderness in the world. His skin pebbled as your nails scratched gently along his scalp, and he bit back the pleased sigh threatening to escape his lips.

He remained deathly still, trying with all his might not to overreact to the situation. The braid you’d selected to practice was particularly intimate, reserved for lovers and admirers. But you were a human, simply here to study his culture…there was no way you would have asked to braid his hair in such a manner if you knew what it meant.

And yet, as he told himself this over and over in his mind, he could not deny the contentment he felt as you braided his hair. The privacy of the forest, the morning sunlight kissing the earth where it shined through the leaves…it was all so intimate. He had to remind himself to inhale and exhale normally. You were oblivious to the situation you’d put him in. He would not make a fool of himself by reading into the situation and confronting you about it.

You finished up the last few knots of the braid, tying it off with a small band of woven string. As you gazed at your handiwork, comparing it once more to the reference material, you felt yourself release a satisfied sigh. “There we are,” you breathed. “I reckon it’s a good first attempt, wouldn’t you say?”

Legolas reached a hand up behind his head to trace the braid now cascading down his back, a deep hum reverberating in his throat. “I can not disagree,” he conceded, and turned to face you finally. As always, you felt breathless at the sight of him. He was beautiful even by Elven standards, his cool blue-grey eyes akin to an early morning dew.

You watched with bated breath for his reaction, carefully searching his expression for any trace of understanding. He had agreed that your execution had been well-done, and yet…he did not acknowledge the message that should have been blaringly obvious.

He looked as cool and composed as ever, though his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he seemed to catch something shift in your expression. “Are you displeased?” he asked, and you quickly turned your face from him to your book once more.

“I don’t understand,” you muttered to yourself, flipping back and forth between the pages. “I followed the steps perfectly…did I miss something?”

Legolas watched as you murmured to yourself, mildly concerned by the change. He reached forward and placed his hand atop of yours to still you. Your face immediately lifted to look at him, confusion and misunderstanding swimming in your eyes.

“Why are you disconcerted?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together. “As far as I can tell, you have managed to execute a perfectly decent Silvan braid. Considering you yourself are not of the race, should this not be pleasing to you?”

Your own expression matched his, the both of you confused by—what you felt—was the other’s lack of an appropriate reaction.

“That’s the thing,” you sighed, closing the book. “It didn’t…work.”

Legolas blinked at your admission, trying to make sense of what you were saying. There was no way you understood the social significance of the braid…did you?

But seeing you now, looking away as if you were self-conscious, he began to second-guess his previously held assumptions. In that moment, he decided to take the risk.

Legolas lifted his slender hand towards your cheek. He curved his thumb around the underside of your chin, raising it so you were looking at him. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, and the feeling of your mortal heartbeat quickened in your chest.

In his steely eyes was an intensity that had not been there before. It was as if the dim embers there had been dowsed in an accelerant, leaving behind a burning inferno of blue flame. A sensation of warmth began to tingle the apples of your cheeks. Legolas’ eyes darted down to your lips briefly, and he swallowed before forcing his them back up to yours.

“Do you know what you do to me, melethel?” his voice came out breathy and strained. “The delicate touch of your hands upon me—nay, the very vision of you threatens to destroy the remaining semblance of my self-control.”

You felt the heat on your cheeks begin to creep lower towards your neck, and his eyes seemed to follow the color down. His voice was husky as he spoke to you in his native tongue, “Le melin, a lín naid nín ú-barthatha. Aníron na dharthol na nin, sui galad vi dû.”

The confession was poetic and only slightly painful in its formality, but it was this noble restraint that drew you even closer to him. You felt your lips twitch upwards in amusement. Full of affection, you exhaled a small, “gi melin.” The informal, intimate ‘gi’ of your response seemed to shatter the last bit of his restraint, and within seconds he had leaned forward, and pressed his lips to yours.

Book long forgotten, your hands released it in favor of fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Your lips broke apart as you felt yourself fall backwards, your back pressing into the firm woody texture of the root you’d been perched on.

Legolas naturally slotted himself above you, and the braid you’d woven draped down over his shoulder and hung between you. You both panted, mere inches separating you as your breath mingled. His pupils were dilated more so than usual, but you didn’t have more than a few seconds to notice before you crashed together in another, searing kiss.

Bodies intertwined, you pulled apart and came together like the natural push and pull of the tide. You melded together in a collision of whispered endearments, scalding touches of skin, and the pure, unadulterated desire for the other.

You spent the remainder of that perfect afternoon upon the tree root, enjoying one another’s company as new lovers are known to do.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾ 

Translation Guide:

Elvellyn – Elf-friends, (plural for elvellon), denotes the upgraded status of honored men who are considered friendly to Elven kind.

Melethel – A pet-name, such as darling or sweetheart

Le melin, a lín naid nín ú-barthatha. Aníron na dharthol na nin, sui galad vi dû. – I love you (formal), and your deeds will not be forgotten by me. I wish for you to stay with me, like light in shadow.

Gi melin – I love you (informal, used between close friends and lovers)

[sachiko6243]

Let the poor woman come

Summary: some smut, but not too detailed, a surprise visit ;)

Generally this is just some short drabble from my story "The prophecy of the elvish warrior - a Haldir love story" which ccan be found on Wattpad and Ao3 (account name in my tumbler description) have fun with it 😉🥰

Word count: 1164

Warnings: smut, threesome, female orgasm, surprise visit from the elven daddy himself 😉 (but its mostly our blond warriors) Minors DNI !!!

Translation: hûn nin = my heart

I was completely bare between the two men. After our talk with Thranduil, they proceeded to rid me of my clothes and now here I was. Sitting on Haldirs lap, his cock deeply sheathed into my core, my legs spread by his strong thighs. Legolas kneeling in front of me, edging me. I was a quivering mess, sweat and slick sticking to my body, but it didn’t look like either of the elves cared. Haldir had stopped thrusting into me, just relishing my twitching pussy around his cock, leaving it up to Legolas to pull another orgasm from my body.

“So beautiful.” He murmured in my ear. “Do you like Legolas making you cum, meleth?” I let out another strangled moan, when Legolas finger danced over my clit. “Answer us, meleth. Tell us how good we make you feel.” Haldir pressed on, gripping my hips tighter, when I clenched around his cock. “Good!” I whined. “So good…”

A knock on the door interrupted us. “Yes?” Legolas answered, his voice sounding like he didn’t just finger me. To my fearful surprise the door opened and closed again. A light ‘thump’ indicated someone leaned against the wooden frame. Luckily the room we stayed in was rounding a corner, so from where the door was placed, you were unable to see the fireplace and bed. Legolas lips contorted in a devilish smile, when he started to stroke my clit again. From behind Haldir snuck a hand around my mouth to keep me from making a sound.

“I wondered…” My eyes went wide, when I realized it was Thranduil, who was standing there. “… whether it would be possible for you to help me organize a few things regarding the kingdom.” Slowing down his movement, to keep me from cumming, Legolas answered: “Of course, Adar. What exactly needs to be discussed?” The elven king sighted. “Ah just the way we intend to keep our borders safe. The war has strained our armies and as far as I am concerned the spiders did not seem to have gained as many casualties as we did.”

My muffled cry, forced Thranduil to stop mid explanation, but after a few seconds he kept on talking: “As well I want to show my apology by inviting you, Haldir and Visha to Mirkwood. I guess since the three of you are content to make this relationship work, I might as well invite her and the Commander to Mirkwood.”

“See it as done, Adar.” Legolas answered, not letting my face out of his sight. I was now twitching and panting from how close my orgasm was and I wondered why Thranduil didn’t pick on the tension and noises in the room. But my hopes were soon shattered on the ground, when the king spoke again: “Thank you, my son.” I heard him turn around, opening the door. “Ah and another thing. Let the poor woman cum. I am afraid the whole realm is yearning for her release.” Legolas chuckled between my legs, signaling for Haldir to take away his hand. “I will. Don’t worry.” Then, he circled my clit with the uttermost sinful touch, he ever used, pushing me over the edge. Even though I didn’t hear Thranduil leave the room, I couldn’t help myself. A loud moan, ripping from my chest, ringing through the room.

“Thank you.” Was the last thing I heard, before the door fell into its hinges. The sound shuttering through my body, freeing the insanity of what just happened.

“I fucking hate you!” I exclaimed. My breath still irregular. Legolas got up from his knees. “No, you love us.”

“Why did you do this? He is your father!” I asked, feeling something between arousal and embarrassment. “I will never be able to look him in the eye!” This had Legolas smirk again. “He was the one, prying on our intimate life. I guess he got what he wanted. Besides don’t tell me, you didn’t like it. I could see it in your eyes. The fear of being caught just went straight to your filthy little pussy, didn’t it?”

I gasped at his boldness, unsure what to say. He was right. I enjoyed the thrill of it, but I didn’t expect him to be this bold.

“Don’t worry hûn nin*. My father was never one to let people go against his believes and rules. If he really had a problem of engaging us in this situation, he would have waited. You know, elven hearing can be a big asset deciding whether to enter a room or not.” Legolas smiled at me, making his way to the bed, ridding him from the rest of his clothes.

Then he proceeded to take a seat on the broad bed in front of us. “Ride him.” Was all he said, slowly stroking his hard cock in his hand. I was stunned at his sudden change in demeanor. Legolas wasn’t usually the one to overtake Haldir in extruding dominance, but sometimes there were slight glimpses of the princes’ natural power slipping through. “What?” My voice was hoarse and thin of breath. Tilting his head to the side Legolas lips twisted into a cocky smile. “You heard my father. You are to be queen of Mirkwood at my side. Now show your commander what his queen likes. Take him as you please.”

I froze on the spot unsure of what to do. My brain reeling from the change of pace in the room. The newly found power sending butterflies through my stomach. Haldirs warm hand on my back startled me back into reality. I could feel him shuffle underneath me. Sliding towards the edge of the chair and leaning back. “Go on little starlight. Ride me. I am yours to take. Your throne to sit on. Well to be honest I would rather have you use my face as your throne, but this will do for now.”

His words had Legolas chuckle: “You see how eager the Commander is to please his queen? You are a natural.” “Both of you need an ego check.” I grumbled. “You are having way to much fun, teasing me like that and then throw me into cold water.”

Underneath me Haldir leaned forward, his lips brushing over my shoulder. “Would you rather have me rail you on the floor to Legolas feet?” Him growling into my ears, send goosebumps over my whole body and I involuntarily started to shiver.

Desperately trying to gain my stance back, I straightened up, forcing as much power into my voice that I could muster. “No. I am just fine.” Still unsure about what to do, I started to roll my hips in circular motions, as I was not able to do much more, since my feet barely touched the ground. But by the groaning noises coming from Haldir I was doing good. Following Legolas order, I completely focused on my own pleasure, riding my husband in the most sensual and deep way I ever did.

Taglist: gt13tbbart

[the-kr8tor]

If I may suggest another Ekko (and Hobie) req:

Ekko accidentally dimension hopping to the Spider Society, only to meet R (geeking out about seeing her favorite character on the show) and Hobie (who may or may not be jealous but holding it in for the fangirling R)

- 😅

I think writing this healed me lol crack fics are my favourite!! Thank you for requesting, bestie! ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader/ Ekko x Fem! Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), slight Ekko x Hobie (and throuple au) if you squint, established relationship, spider! Reader, arcane and spiderverse crossover, arcane s2 spoiler, CW food mentions, a rare jealous! Hobie, fluff!

Navigation

“Hey, Hobie, what's wrong with her?” Pavitr taps Hobie's shoulder, voice laced with genuine concern.

Hobie cranes his head to look at you crouched on the floor, just lounging on the hallway, back resting against the wall as Hobie and the rest wait for a new mission from Miguel. Your slouched form isn't cause for concern usually, but your eyes are glued on your phone, barely blinking as you watch the same thing over and over again. The screen's light shines on your engrossed expression, it's as if his lovie has been replaced by an alien who's trying to learn the language through your phone. But, no, it's your latest hyperfixation in the form of another punk like him, with platinum hair and a hoverboard that he thinks isn't as impressive as swinging around.

“It's Ekko.” Hobie sighs, keeping an eye on you, who hasn't moved a muscle ever since the two of you reported for duty. Pav raises a brow, “he's a character on a show she loves.”

Gwen snickers beside him. “Jealous much?”

“Yeah, Hobie.” Miles adds, looking over Gwen to raise both of his brows in a mocking way. “It sounds like you're jealous. Did she make you watch the show while she fangirled for him?”

“Sure, ‘m jealous of a 2d character. Come off it.” Hobie chuckles, smiling at them with nonchalance. Truthfully, he doesn't care at all, truly. Right? It's not as if the guy is real, or that all your attention is on Ekko for once and not on him. Nope, not jealous at all.

“Now I know.” Pavitr scrunches his nose. “Gaya had a phase like that, she was obsessed with Howl.”

“She has good taste.” Gwen gives Gayatri a sign of her approval.

“She's not obsessed—” Hobie takes a look at you, still wide-eyed as you watch Ekko's greatest hits. “Not obsessed.”

“Hey, if the guy was real, do you think she'll ask you if he can be her pass.” Gwen nudges him, while Pav and Miles snickers.

“What's a bloody pass?”

“You know, someone she can snog, to put it in your own terms, without wrecking the relationship since he's the pass. Just a one time thing.” Gwen explains and Hobie blinks at her.

“Gwen's pass is Legolas.” Miles blurts out, earning a guffaw from Pav.

“Yeah? And yours is Laura Croft! Like that's original!”

Their conversation falls on the back of his head as Hobie crouches down beside you, hand splayed over your nape, head ducking to meet with your eyes. “You alright there, love? Your neck's goin’ to hurt.”

“I'm fine, Hobie.” You say, almost robotically.

“Love, you're fryin’ your brain with that.” He jokes, whispering right in your ears.

You finally relent, closing the screen and meeting with his eyes. “No it won't.” You lie, eyes feeling heavier. “That's a conspiracy theory.” Nuzzling your nose with his, he cracks a smile and a sigh of relief that he didn't know he was holding back. “I heard everything by the way.”

Hobie pauses from absolute bliss. “Heard what?”

“That you're jealous of Ekko.” Pocketing your phone in your suit, you take the lapels of his vest and pull him close. “Well, are you?”

“No, ‘m chuffed. Bloody happy that you found your thing instead of just collectin’ doorknobs.” He backtracks, “which I love ‘bout you by the way.”

Kissing his cheek, you rub your thumb over the slight wrinkle in between his brows. “It's a genuine hobby.”

“I didn't say it wasn't. It's fuckin' a-door-able,” he winks and you giggle. “and I'll bring you all the doorknobs in the world, lovie.” Hobie takes your hand and kisses your knuckles, wishing that your suit doesn't have gloves to feel you fully.

“I know, my favourites are the ones you give me.” You stare lovingly at him, squeezing his hands thrice. “Besides, I know that Ekko isn't real—” your eyes widen, staring at something behind him. “Ekko?!”

Hobie and the trio turn towards your line of sight. Hobie's eyes mirror your own, wide and in surprise, while they stare at the anomaly banging on the holographic jail with confusion.

“You got the wrong fucking guy!” Ekko, in all his glory, platinum twists bouncing with every kick on the glass and brown eyes frantic and panicked. It's really him, from the overalls to the z-drive confiscated by a fellow spider, it's as if he jumped from the screen over to the society. “Fuck you and your spider shit!”

“Damn, spidersman got him good.” Gwen says, following the angry punk with a raised brow.

“What the fuck.” You say under your breath, standing up as you follow the rolling jail cell with wide eyes.

“Shit, I think he made the wrong device, eh, lovie—?” Hobie turns towards you, finding that you're bolting towards Ekko with determination. “Love! Fuck!” Quickly following you, leaving the trio in the dust and scratching their heads, Hobie, with his larger strides, catches up and runs beside you. “What’s the plan?!”

“Mayhem!” You turn to him, grinning from ear to ear as you sprint away with all your spider speed.

“That's my girl!” Hobie guffaws, aiming overhead as his web shoots overhead, swinging over the bright orange jail and landing on top of it with a thud. “‘Ello there, bruv.” Ekko looks up at him with a pointed glare. He does not look 2d at all, oh he's real alright. “Now I see why she's so bloody smitten by you.” He flashes him a smirk.

“What?” Ekko shrugs, staring at the fellow punk. “Who are you?”

“Your saviour, boy saviour.” With a wink, he places his palms on the glowing jail, short circuiting it with a burst of electricity and effectively halting it to a stop and busting the walls into bits of light.

“Fuck yeah, Hobie!” Your amused tone echoes around the society after knocking out spidersman and a few fellow spiders along the way. Miguel is gonna be pissed, well he's always pissed at you and Hobie anyway. You might as well live up to his expectations.

Ekko barely has enough time to respond as he gets dragged into another orange glow by the scruff of his neck. Which you soon follow with a swing and a leap towards him, z-drive in hand and smiling so wide that Ekko thinks that you and the rest of whatever place he fell in are all insane.

He lands with a thud on hardwood floors, seemingly rocking in the waves as he looks at the two strangers smiling down at him.

“So, are you still not jealous at all?” You ask teasingly, head tilting at Hobie.

“As long as you don't ask him to be your pass, love. Or I might have to bring out my guitar on him.”

“What the fuck are you two on about?” Ekko sits up, backing away until he hits the front of a sofa.

“He's ‘bout to glitch out, I know it.” Hobie smiles mischievously, and you take out something blue from your pockets while you get closer to Ekko.

“No, back off!” Ekko grabs the nearest thing and swings it around, fending you off with a couch cushion with the printed face of you. A joke gift from you to Hobie to which he swears he doesn't cuddle at night. Ekko stares at the weird thing, and before he knows it, his whole body trembles, shifting his insides in a burst of static before going back to normal. “Fuck…”

“You're glitchin’ out, bruv. Let her put that on you.” Hobie sits on the coffee table, unlacing his boots while you wait with the blue bracelet in hand.

“It's just a bracelet to help stabilize you in this dimension.” You say with a softer tone, noticing his apprehension and panic at the unfamiliar place. “I always have it on me whenever I have to bring my cat to the society.”

“Dimension? It spat me out somewhere else?” Ekko eyes the z-drive laying on the armchair beside you.

“Your calculations were wrong, genius.” Hobie tugs off his boots and it falls on the floor with a heavy thud. “You might've needed to stay a few more hours in that good version of Zaun.”

“Don't tease him, Hobie, it's too soon.” You nudge him, and he cracks a smile at you.

“Wh–what? You know about that?” Ekko heaves on the floor, still protecting himself with the pillow of your face.

“Yeah,” crouching down, you extend your hand with the bracelet on your palm. “Put this on and we'll explain it to you.”

Ekko eyes it for a moment, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the bracelet.

Sighing, you take it and place it on your wrist to show him that it's safe. “See? I'm fine.”

“It's not goin’ to buzz you, mate.”

“Now that you said it—” another round of static ebbs out of him, this time it's so much worse as his stomach flips upside down. Grabbing the bracelet immediately, his body settles down as he puts it on.

You smile at him as you stand up and sit down beside Hobie. All the while with Ekko eyeing the both of you suspiciously. Introducing yourself, you gesture at Hobie. “...and this is Hobie. We're spider, uh, people? We're sort of like you actually!” Your excitement is hard to conceal now.

“You're not gonna eat me, right? Because I will fight back.” Ekko says through gritted teeth.

“Fight back with the pillow that has my girl's face in it?” Hobie eggs him on, earning a pinch to his sides from you. “Ow.”

“How about we start explaining everything?” With a nod from Ekko, you start telling him about spider people in general, the gist of spider society, and the hypothesis on how he must've gotten there. “And we sorta know you because of a show we watched.”

“What fucking show—?”

“Nothin'” Hobie gazes at you, wordlessly conversing and telling you that it might cause some trouble in Ekko's dimension if you tell him that he's just a character in most dimensions. And you immediately understand, agreeing with a curt nod. “She meant that she saw you on the screens of the society and thought that you…” Hobie sucks in his teeth, trying to make up a lie on the spot. “...looked like a bloke she used to date, yeah, date.” He nods, impressed at himself. Meanwhile you're looking at him like he stole your ice cream right from your hand.

“Yeah, that.” You grimace before fixing your expression. “It's definitely that.”

“That's bullshit.” Ekko calls the two of you out immediately. “But I don't care, just get me back home.”

“Sure!” You stand up, clapping your hands. “Before that though, can I get a picture, please?”

“Love, really?”

“Yes, ‘Mr. I'm not bloody jealous.’” Hands on your waist, Hobie stands up, hands immediately wrapping around your hips to pull you towards him. “It'll be so cool.”

“‘m not jealous.”

“Says the one who's holding onto me for dear life. Definitely not jealous behavior.” Riling him up, mischief shines in his eyes.

Ekko's attention turns towards the kitchen, finding all bits and bobs interesting while you and Hobie bicker in the living room lovingly. A bit too lovingly as he walks towards a small box with flashing buttons. He tilts his head, pressing the number one as it beeps. His interest is piqued, pressing another button and almost jumping out of his skin when the small door opens.

The beeping has yours and Hobie's attention away, lips pausing right on your jaw. “That’s the microwave.” You say, and Ekko turns towards you, dipped by Hobie with his lips on your skin. He scrunches his nose at the sickeningly sweet sight. “Try pressing the green button.” You say and Hobie rests his forehead on your shoulder before straightening you up on the floor. Ekko does what you told him, and his fascination is clear on his expression as the microwave starts up.

“They grow up so fast.” Hobie murmurs, kissing your cheek before letting you go. “C’mon, Ekko, let me show you the magic of a blender.”

—

“I can't believe that you guys don't have a dishwasher or a washing machine!” You exclaim as you carefully walk on the floor covered by a hundred metallic parts while Hobie and Ekko take apart the microwave to fix his z-drive. “You guys have magic but not a machine that washes your own shit for you. That's insane.” Plopping down in between them on the floor, you hand them a glass of orange juice each. The glow of the arcane has you mesmerized, all the more reason why you avoid staring at it for long periods, so instead you gaze at the concentration on both of their faces.

“What’s insane is this food.” Ekko says, chewing the last of the quesadillas you preheated before they took apart the microwave. Hobie did promise to get a new one for you. “I've never had anything like this before.” His eyes shine and a soft smile etches on his lips.

There's pride in your chest that you've made him smile when you've only seen him make that expression a couple of times in the show. All because of store bought cheesy quesadillas and a glass of orange juice to wash it down with.

“I'd pack you some but we're all out of it.” You say apologetically, and you miss the way Hobie glances between you and Ekko with a raised brow. “Maybe I can give you a recipe, I'll find one on my phone and write it down for you!”

“Do you lot even have cheese?” Hobie says, pointing at Ekko with a screwdriver, while you take out your phone.

“We have cheese, Hobie.” Ekko rolls his eyes, taking a generous gulp of the orange juice. He purses his lips together, eyeing your phone. “What's that?”

“It's called a phone, it basically has everything.” Showing him the screen, you scroll through your gallery of cat pictures and various selfies with friends, and Hobie. “See—” you notice the sudden flustered expression on him and once you turn the phone towards you, you immediately close it, cheeks aflame while Hobie flicks his eyes towards you and the tucked phone with obvious second hand embarrassment. And maybe with a tinge of jealousy. “That— that wasn't for your eyes. I should've just shown you pictures of puppies.” You wish that the ground would swallow you into the depths.

“That—” Ekko clears his throat, avoiding your eyes. “That suit looked good on you…”

“It was a prototype…” You say, muffled as you hide your face in your hands.

Hobie quickens the screwing of the bolt in the device, jaw tight and words said under his breath. “Right!” He says too loudly, placing down the screwdriver on the floor with a resounding thud. “It's done, we're good now, ain't we, bruv?” Shoving the z-drive in Ekko's arms, he flicks it open, filling the living room in blue light. “Up you go, Ekko!”

“Wait,” you interrupt while Hobie helps Ekko stand up or make him stand up more like. “I have to write the recipe down!” Quickly trying to find a notepad, you go towards the bedroom and leave the two men alone, staring at your retreating back.

“Ekko,” Hobie says, side eyeing him. “Kindly fuck off, yeah?” The thing is, he trusts you, but he does not trust the man beside him.

Ekko smirks, brown eyes twinkling. “I'll fuck off when she wants me to, Hobie.” Hobie doesn't know if he's being genuine or riling him up just for the sake of seeing him all jealous. Ekko's eyes roam around Hobie's face and then flicks down over to his bicep before looking back to the open bedroom door.

“You little shit—”

“Got it!” You skip from the bedroom, notepad in hand with your quick chicken scrawl on it. “I don't know if you'll be able to—” you notice the sudden tension between the two when just five minutes ago they were happily yapping about electricity and various nerdy things that have endeared you. “Are you guys, okay?” You clap your hands together with the notepad in hand. “Oh, I get it! You guys are now best friends and don't want to fully leave each other yet!”

“What—?” They simultaneously say.

“How about I give you my watch, Ekko?” Before Hobie could stop you, you're already taking it off your wrist and handing it to a very smug yet confused Ekko in exchange for the blue bracelet you gave him, together with the quesadilla recipe. “I'll just tell Miguel that I lost it during a fight, he'll understand because I know I'm secretly his favourite.” You innocently smile at them as Hobie sidles up to you, eyes telling Ekko to start hauling ass out of his houseboat. All the while you grab his waist and pull him closer to you, unbeknownst to the cold war between the two punks. “Go save Piltover and Zaun, Ekko! Good luck!”

Hobie cuddles closer to you. “Yeah, go be a hero, Ekko.”

Ekko turns on the portal, sending a flurry of blues and oranges in the houseboat. “Maybe I will see you again after this.” He smiles at you, and then flicks his brown eyes towards Hobie with a bit of teasing glint, clearly adding to the man's irk.

“That would be great actually! We can all hang out again!” As you wave goodbye, Ekko sends a mock salute before stepping backwards into the portal.

Once he's out, Hobie takes you in his arms and lifts you off the floor to then waddle towards the bedroom with you in tow.

“You said we'll clean up!” You giggle, arms around his neck as he peppers kisses all over your face.

“Maybe after this.” Yep, definitely not jealous at all.