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welikeimagines-andfandoms · 1 year ago

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LOTR and Hobbit NSFW headcanons

(I’m in my lotr horny era and this list could probably be added to 😂)

Boromir:

- His favourite position is missionary with your ankles on his shoulders so he can see your body, especially your tits

- Sex during sparring sessions

- Isn’t very rough in the bedroom but when you fuck during sparring he loves to grab you, force your head down and grab your hips hard

- Can be a little subby

- Loves to be put in his place

- Doesn’t like being or giving spanking but isn’t opposed to getting a couple face slaps

- Likes being bossed around but not degraded

- Wants you to call him ‘captain’ in the bedroom

- “Who own your cock, captain? Who fucks you this good?”

- Is a big ol tiddy boy

- Hand over the shoulder and lightly touching your boob

- “Boromir not in public”

- Not super sexual but after a long day he falls to his knees in front of you for you to hold him

- Will say “oh fuck” as he slides into you

Eomer:

- Very typical but loves when you ride him, loves being able to see and grab all of you

- Lots of riding dirty talk

- “Ride my cock hard, darling. Come on and fuck me hard. Use those gorgeous fucking hips of yours”

- Will guide your hips as you ride him

- Seeing you ride an actual horse turns him on too

- Loooovveesss having his hair pulled

- Especially when hes between your legs or against a wall

- Bending you over his desk and taking you by flipping your dress up and fucking you hard

- When you get a bit drunk you grab his ass and biceps and he loves it

- Loves when you tell him how strong he is, like almost over the top flirting gets him for some reason

- “Oh Eomer, you have such big arms” you tell him all breathy and grabby

- Is so sweet and gentle with you

- But

- When he returns from a battle he will fuck you hard and make you scream

- Very possessive

- “Scream my name, baby, let everyone know who fucks you this good”

- Constantly grabbing you to sit on his lap, especially at parties

Legolas:

- Sensitive ear kiinnnkkk!

- He definitely whimpers during sex

- No matter who’s on top or if he’s being submissive or dominant he always says ‘thank you’ when his cock slides inside you

- Loves to run his fingertips over you so gently and sweet

- Could gently play with your pussy for hours

- Straddling him while he’s on his knees is easily one of his favourite positions

- Being able to hold you so close to him

- Loves listening to your heart beat after sex

- Holding you and pressing his head to your chest

- Loves after sex head scratches too

- When he is a sub he loves edging

- Begging little baby

- “Please, ma’am, please let me cum. Please I’ve been such a good boy”

- Is a good boy

- When he’s dominant he’s very gentle

- Doesn’t really fuck you fast but more hard and bruising thrusts

- Mutters things in Sindarin when he’s lost in pleasure

- Whispering dirty talk in Sindarin in your ear, whether you understand it or not

Aragorn:

- Isnt opposed to tying you up but prefers to bond you by manhandling you

- Says such sweet things to you while fucking you hard

- “Oh princess, you take my cock so good”

- Having to put his hand over your mouth while he finger fucks you

- Forced quiet sex

- “Be nice and quiet for me, sweetheart. Don’t want these people to hear you do you?”

- For some reason it turns him on when you smoke his pipe

- Doesn’t like to fuck when he’s been drinking but loves to watch how you dance when you’ve been drinking

- It usually ends with heavy makeout session and touching each other but he doesn’t like full on sex when one of you is drunk

- He loves to watch it from afar too, sit in the corner and watch how your body moves

- Even when you dance with Merry and Pippin on top of tables he thinks it’s so hot

- Will just start saying full sentences and dirty talk in Sindarin while he takes you from behind

- He gets so lost that he can’t help himself

Haldir:

- Outdoor sex

- Pulling your hair while he takes you from behind up against a tree

- The good old sensual archery lessons while he whispers in your ear

- Loves teasing you, especially by standing behind you and whispering in your ear

- “Yes marchwarden!” “Thank you, sir!”

- Slight degradation kink but nothing that actually hurts you

- “Oh look at how you blush just from my words, darling”

- Height kink

- Corners you and standing close and above you just to look you down and make you blush

- Fucks you stupid

- Like your head lulls and your eyes go all misty

- Chasing you down in the forest and fucking you when he catches you

- One of the few lotr fellas I can see being into violent fucking

- He’s rough with how he fucks but he’s just as if not more gentle and caring with aftercare

- Degradation to raise real quick

- “Take my cock just like the whore you are” “Oh my darling, you did such a good job, Meleth. Such a good girl for me”

Thorin:

- This man has the biggest breeding kink

- “Give me an heir, my queen. Let me fill your womb”

- Staring you right in the eyes while he finger fuck you

- Obviously throne sex

- Almost cums in his pants when he sees you in your crown for the first time

- Isn’t usually submissive but you can make him do anything when you wear that crown

- Holds you down by your hips while I fucks you from behind

- Will whisper Khuzdul into your ear while he fucks you

- Fucks you rough but doesn’t want to actually ever hurt or scare you

- The second you’re uncomfortable he will stop and hold you, he’ll even sing to you

- Loves to know he can take care of you

- Such sweet dirty talk

- You’re either his queen or his good girl, no in between

Thranduil:

- Is dominant 99% of the time

- Doesn’t always like when you’re on top but when you are he likes to force your hips to move while he fucks into you

- Wants you to say ‘thank you’ when you cum

- Does want to fuck you hard and rough but will wait and double, triple check before even trying

- Face fucking you stupid

- Is so gentle and soothing with aftercare

- Treats you like a sweet princess during aftercare

- Cockwarming while he does work

- Size kink, loves how much taller he is and how his cock barely fits in you

- “Look how your tiny pussy takes my big cock” “oh, darling, I don’t think it will fit”

- If you’re a human he also has a massive age kink

- “You’re such a sweet little girl for me”

- Staring down at you with your face covered in cum

- Not opposed to some good old pet play

- Is both cruel and loving

- Degrades his dirty little slut pet while he uses them just for his pleasure

- Loves having you sit in his lap and have you curl up to him and hold his sweet little darling

- Holds you and kisses you while you ride his thigh

- Strokes your hair while you hump his boot and look up to him with big desperate eyes

Kili:

- Biggest turn on for him is seeing you dance and jump around

- The way your face flushes and your tits bounce makes him crazy

- Loves being both babied and degraded

- If he could live between your tits he would

- Sitting in your lap, panting and whimpering as he thrusts his hips into your hand

- Mutual masturbation

- Doesn’t like to be hurt too badly but does love spanking and overstimulation

- Shows off whenever you watch him train

- Even if he’s shorter than you he still loves showing his strength by carrying you

- Carry’s you to the bath after sex and takes his time washing your body and your hair

- Just wants to be your good boy

- No thoughts, just be good boy and love boobs

- Does not have mommy issues but does have mommy style kinks

- Loves sucking on your nipples

- (honestly that gif does things to me 🥵🥵)

Fili:

- Knife kink!

- He’d never use his knife on you in a dangerous way but does love to cut your clothes off you

- His beard braids feel amazing and ticklish between your legs

- Hand on your thigh always, during sexual times or not

- Polar opposite things will turn him on

- While you’re fighting he gets hard and wants you to grab his hair and use his cock

- When he sees you taking care of babies his breeding kink comes out hard

- “I’m going to fuck a baby into your womb. We’re not leaving until you’re full of my cum”

- Loves to fuck you in the woods especially when it’s risky

- While on the journey to reclaim his home he liked to take you into the woods and fuck you

- He loved that you had to be so quiet but still he could hear your little whimpers

- He is a prince and next in line to the throne so he has to keep PDA to a minimum

- That doesn’t stop him from grabbing at your thigh under the table and whispering dirty things in your ear in the middle of a party

- Playfully slaps your ass while you’re changing

- Skinny dipping 👌🏻👌🏻

- He has no problem keeping you warm 😏😏

Bard:

- Loves to cum all over your face

- Lots of pet names during

- “Oh darling you feel amazing” “cum for me sweetheart”

- Forced quiet sex

- Packing your wet underwear in his bag while he’s away, he does smell it while he touches himself

- Such a dirty man but great at hiding it

- Loves the noises you make when his beard scratches your neck

- Bit of a caretaking kink

- Gets really horny when you massage him, cook for him, bandage him up, wash him in the bath

- Takes you fishing so he can finger you on his boat

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itsonlydana · 9 months ago

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"Flower On My Skin" | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

Thranduil gets his hair braided and thinks too much.

warnings/tags: bittersweet, more fluff tho, swf, King Thranduil needs a break

words: 1,9k

an: this is a gift for the lovely @tigereyesf who always comments on my posts on ao3 🤍 the lyrics are from Noah Kahans song "Your needs, my needs'

+ masterlist +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Thranduil understands that permitting you to be near him might not be wise. It could very well rank among the least advisable decisions he's made in ages.

But he did, he invited you again and again, sending horses and carriages to transport you ever since he found out you traveled all the way from Dale by yourself whenever he sent a letter.

Until he didn't need to anymore.

Not because you wouldn't come, but because you didn't leave.

Never in a million years would anyone have guessed that the stoic Elvenking would invite a human to his palace on more occasions than his own kind and surely no one would have ever thought that he would start courting them.

Yet here he was, sitting in one of his many blooming gardens, swatting away the hand that was currently trying to gather his hair.

"Stop this," Thranduil's stern voice would've had any other shiver in fear of losing their head, though it only makes you giggle.

"Please, let me braid it again," you stable yourself with your hands on his shoulders and lean over, chest pressed against his strong back.

"No, you little nuisance. I shall not! You know of the meeting I will attend later, we do not have the time."

Even though he can't see your face, he knows you roll your eyes at him, he can feel it in the huff you let out before letting go of him. The warmth of your body disappears as you stand up from the bench and throw one challenging look over your shoulder.

Thranduil watches how you lift the skirts of the gown you're wearing, the finest of silks that you've adorned with little handmade bows from the village, and flop down into the grass. There is not one care on your face that the hems will surely stain and that there are perfectly suitable marmor benches all over the garden and only one of those occupied by Thranduil himself.

You seem to ignore them every time you two spend time out here, he noticed you are much more content with your naked feet buried in the high grass and your hair intertwined with the flowers that grow here.

At first, he couldn't understand the fascination you harbored with nature.

Of course, he had a deep appreciation for the forest surrounding his kingdom, the strong resistance of the trees had been an inspiration for the winding halls, the water flowing through the roots and gifting life and the ever so steady wind reminded someone who lived a thousand years that some things, though they change, never completely disappear.

You, on the other hand, could not be separated from nature in any way whatsoever. There had been the flowers, first only on your side of the bed when he'd invited you to sleep next to him, and one day he woke up to find a vase filled with Astilbe flowers on his nightstand and on his vanity as well.

You also spend most of your day either wandering through the woods (which left him restless and worried until you accepted the sword he had his blacksmith forge for you) or meeting him here in the gardens. He would never tell you but before you, he hadn't walked or maker-forbid, sat there for decades.

Now, he found himself soaking sunshine more days than not, reading Elvish poetry to you while you rested curled into his side with one of his hands brushing your hair, or, chasing you on his Elk through the forest, following the sound of your horse and your laughter.

Your infatuation with nature and the stubbornness of pulling him along made him fall for you, deeply and most ardently and he knew that one day he would need to survive the sight of forests and gardens and flowers without the urge to burn them to the ground for outliving you.

As he watches you examine the colorful flowers and gather them in your lap, he isn't sure if he will be able to contain that anger against the gods if the time comes.

You are oblivious to the dark clouds hanging onto his thoughts, he makes sure that you'll never see the heartbreak he lives through while loving you because he knows, he knows that you would do everything in your power to make him happy.

This is who you are, a human that lives and loves and pours all that you are into those around you, he sees it in the gentleness of your hands cupping the flowers before plucking them, in the way your tongue learned a new language for you wouldn't accept not studying it for an answer if you lived here.

You live to love and love to live.

Thranduil shifts, forgetting that there are guards stationed around the gardens who could see their King doing the unthinkable but he doesn't care.

Not with you sitting a few feet away from him, your dress spilled around you, a full smile on your face as you collect the flowers growing there for you, their little heads turning to you as if you are the sun for them as well, and not just for Thranduil.

If you notice him standing up, you give no sign, you don't even stop humming, and the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth at this stubbornness is far too strong to stop it.

"Melethril nîn," he says quietly and his shadow falls over your body. The symbolism and fear of him taking away the sun from you has him clench his jaw. His pain is impatient as if it doesn't know he's going to live longer than he wants to and that it has all the time to break him down.

He quickly shuts those thoughts away behind the sight of you tipping your head back to smirk at him.

This is not the time to dwell on the future, not if he can exist in the moments he shares with you instead of fearing the time when he'll have to think back on them.

"Don't tell me you missed me," you tease.

He scoffs and –surprising you enough to let out a squeak– lowers himself onto his knees next to you.

Eye to eye, he feels much more comfortable, despite the stains that he knows now graze his robes.

"You know," he starts and lets his gaze wander over the flowers in your lap, however, you managed to collect this many of them in such a short time awes him, "the meeting can wait."

You catch onto the meaning instantly, your eyes lightening up even more. The golden rays of the setting sun reflect in them and he reaches forward to cup your face in the palm of his hand and gently leans towards you, capturing your lips in a long kiss that has you gasping.

"Now," Thranduil swipes his thumb over your lower lip, as you separate, tugging playfully at it and giving into another kiss before he continues, "Have your way with my hair, my love. I know you did not collect those flowers for any other reason."

You gasp ingeniously. "You are by far the wisest Elf I've ever met," you say and scoot –maker, he makes a note to get another dress just like this made because surely this will be ruined by the time you leave the gardens– behind his back.

While you gather his hair in your hands, this time without him trying to stop you but relaxing into the soft tugging, you mumble: "So wise, they should make you King."

He chuckles at that. "Ah, but I would need a Queen by my side. Do you know where one could find on–ahhh," his teasing words get swallowed by a sigh as your fingers collect some fine hairs on the side of his head and surely completely on accident run over the shell of his ear to the delicate tip.

"Ooops," you sing and just as his body calms, you repeat the action, even have the gall to scratch the skin with your nails and he melts into a puddle.

His ears burn, not just the one your breath hits but the other one as well and he can feel the blood shoot into his face as well, crumbling the stoic and straight-laced composure of the King who is already on his knees.

"You witch," he presses out between his clenched teeth and hears you giggle. "I should have never told you about that," he murmurs more to himself, trying to regulate his heart beating inside his chest like a wild rabbit on the loose.

You laugh once, a "Pah!" while you tug on his hair, "You didn't tell me," you say and he feels something get pushed inside the braid you are working on, "I found out all by myself."

Thinking back to the night that started this completely outrageous behavior trait of you fiddling with his ears whenever he doesn't pay you enough attention or he says something that teases you a bit too much, he can't tell if you are right or him.

A few years ago he would have shut you down completely because the King would never be wrong but now he grumbles under his breath, agreeing that you must be correct.

Then again, there are many new things that you brought into his life.

He laughs more freely, and not just out of spite of viciously.

He cares more, for you, for his son, for nature and sometimes even for the dwarfs he trades with.

He is formed by you, shaped by your untamable ways of never letting a rainy day ruin your mood.

He is nothing but wax in your hands.

Here, sitting in the gardens and letting you weave flowers in his precious hair, he is no King, he is just a soul yearning for your touch, a flower reaching to bloom in your golden light.

Thranduil's eyes flutter shut as you braid and weave and run your hands over his scalp and through his hair.

He may have fallen asleep, lulled into a trance by the warm sun caressing his face and your voice humming a melody as sweet as any words that you speak, because when you let go of the delicate braids and let them fall into the rest of his hair, he opens his eyes to a pink and purple sunset.

The birds sing their last song and the trees rustle, shaking their branches and leaves as if they would ready themselves for the animals coming to rest in them.

There is a pleasantly chilled breeze that comes with nightfall, one that brings the smell of flowers and grass.

"There," you press a gentle kiss to the skin right behind his left ear, "all done."

For a moment Thranduil is disappointed that you are finished but then he turns to find your smile and all is right.

"Thank you, meldanya," he says, already closing in to express his gratitude with a soft kiss.

You nudge your nose against his, eyes shut in contentment. "Thank you, for letting me. Le ni meleth," you say quietly.

"Always," Thranduil's gaze wanders over you, bathed in rosé and golden hues, the cheeks flushed from the air, your hair wild and untamed, and flowers all over your lap. He grabs a few of them, inspecting the stems and probing them with his sharp nails.

"Let me repay the favor," he effortlessly lifts you, smiling wide at the laugh bursting out of you as he sets you between his legs and onto his robes.

"I want my Queen to wear a fitting crown."

#thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #lotr fanfiction #lotr x reader #lotr x you

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princessofgondor · 2 months ago

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the lord of the rings characters + cuddling with them 🩷

Characters Included: Boromir, Faramir, Aragorn, Arwen, Éowyn, Éomer, Legolas, Frodo, Sam, Pippin, Merry

I decided I wanted to try doing some LOTR preferences! This is my first time writing for all of these characters besides Boromir so I’m still getting a handle on them. If anyone has any requests for preference posts they’d like to see, please send them my way and I’ll see what I can do!!

Author has only seen the movies, so please forgive any mistakes/inaccuracies!

Boromir is definitely pretty touch-starved, and after cuddling with you for the first time he’s very surprised how much he loves it. It becomes a common occurrence for the two of you, something he looks forward to — especially after a long day of training with his soldiers. He loves being the big spoon, and burying his face in your hair or your neck.

Faramir is a big cuddler for sure. You don’t even need to ask — as soon as you rest your head on his shoulder (when you’re sitting together) or on his chest (when you’re laying down together), he’s got his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. He gives you a lot of forehead kisses when you’re cuddling together.

Aragorn loves the moments where the two of you can just relax together, especially when things are getting stressful. He’s happy for the two of you to simply lay there in silence, holding each other, but if you need to talk about anything he’s always ready to listen.

Arwen has an incredibly calming presence, and cuddling with her can improve your mood no matter how bad you were feeling beforehand. She holds you close, whispering comforting words in your ear and pressing gentle kisses to your face and lips every so often.

Éowyn isn’t used to cuddling, but like Boromir she comes to really enjoy it. You make her feel peaceful and happy in a way that she’s never experienced before, and so she loves to be close to you as often as possible. She has a tendency to play with your hair, and she likes it when you do the same to her.

At first, Éomer tries to look tough and doesn’t admit how much he likes cuddling with you. But each time, it becomes increasingly obvious how much he loves it. Similar to Éowyn, he likes it when you play with his hair.

Legolas finds it adorable how much you love to cuddle with him, especially when you get cold. As an Elf he can’t feel the cold, but he can always tell that the temperature is dropping when you cuddle up to him. He’s perfectly happy to stay bundled up with you for as long as you need him there.

Frodo loves when the two of you cuddle up while reading a book together, though sometimes he gets distracted from the words on the page because he’s looking at you. If this is after the main events of LOTR, I could see your presence/touch being able to help Frodo heal from his traumatic experiences, at least somewhat.

Sam is incredibly affectionate, so he definitely loves cuddling. He’s a bit shy about it at first, getting a bit embarrassed and not knowing what he should be doing — like where should his arms/hands be? He doesn’t want to upset you or make you uncomfortable — but once he’s used to it, it’s his favourite thing in the world.

Pippin absolutely loves cuddling with you and he doesn’t care who knows it. Honestly, if he could spend his entire life cuddled up with you and some snacks then he’d be the happiest Hobbit who ever lived. It doesn’t matter where you are, if you’re near each other he’ll want to either have his arms around you or be resting against you.

I think that like Pippin, Merry loves cuddling, but he’s a little less likely to do it publicly. When it’s just the two of you however he loves nothing more than being close to you. He probably makes little jokes and lightly teases you for being so eager to cuddle with him, but it’s all very light-hearted and you know that he loves it too.

#lotr x reader #lord of the rings x reader #lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #boromir x reader #faramir x reader #aragorn x reader #arwen x reader #eowyn x reader #eomer x reader #legolas x reader #frodo baggins x reader #samwise gamgee x reader #meriadoc brandybuck x reader #merry brandybuck x reader #pippin took x reader #peregrin took x reader

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shirefantasies · 5 months ago

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The Hobbit Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

I just love fluff ok and, say it with me, I did this for LoTR 😁 (you can think of the older characters’ as being set when you guys are younger, not during book/film events 😊)

Warnings: conception mentions, some implications of infertility, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms, very long post 😂

Balin

✧ Five years. For five years you had tried. Six you and Balin had been married, happily as anything, but children never came. Your struggles had broken you down, leading you to try all the remedies well-meaning elders and healers alike recommended. Eat more good, strong foods, less of that greasy stuff. Drink this tea, it’s great for women! It’s only a bunch of tiny needles- the pain of birth will be worse anyway. Don’t be so active, let yourself relax for Mahal’s sake, girl! Remedy after remedy, you put your body through it all and put your hands up and prayed. Weeks passed and you had taken ill, attending the healers’ just to get something to ease your nausea, and that was when the questions began. Illness forgotten, you wandered in a grinning daze out of that hall and straight into your husband’s arms. When he chuckled and asked what this was all about, all you could do was snuggle into his chest deeper and whisper “It’s finally happened.”

✧ Such years leant of course to Balin being a bit extra protective of you. You often chastised him, good-naturedly of course, that he hovered so over you, and every time he would simply kiss you and say "That's right".

✧ It brought you both to tears when you began showing, when your condition had persisted long enough to be real, to last beyond the known months of danger. Forehead pressed against yours, your husband held you tightly and warmly for some amount of minutes you did not know, but minded not at all. Balin's words of love and reassurance were as music to your ears.

✧ Hormones confound you some days, pulling you from peace to ruin in mere moments, but Balin is always there with warm arms and wise words, reminding you that whatever you may think, you will never be alone.

✧ The one time during your entire pregnancy that you saw Balin cry was the day you brought home a tiny red coat that looked just like his and showed it to him with pride glowing in your eyes.

✧ He is so calm during all the worst sides of your condition, standing right by you through the good, the bad, and the ugly and dusting and cleaning you off each and every time. "We fought hard for this," he reminds you, "And I'll keep fighting with you every step of the way."

Dwalin

✧ You had wanted children all your life, certainly, and you'd seen Dwalin around them a few times, but what would he say? Your husband was a renowned warrior, hardened in the face of blood and steel and tolerant of no foolishness. But still he went soft as clay when his beloved wife fell into his arms. Thus that night you softened him up but good with all the great food and affection you could muster, so much that you had him remarking what a wonderful home he'd been blessed with. "And would you be willing to share it?" At that, your husband rose from his chair, hands tensing at his sides. "You don't mean-" "I do," you nodded. Without warning, you were swept up into Dwalin's arms, hoisted gently into the air with a giggle. "Just when I thought Mahal couldn't bless me any more! My beautiful wife, with child."

✧ Cue the two of you bickering back and forth like, well, a married couple, about who the child is going to look like. "I'll have 'em look just like you, thanks." "I for one relish in the thought of toting around a miniature Dwalin." "Come now," your husband teases back, running a hand over his shaven, tattooed head, "If they look like you they'll have better hair!"

✧ Dwalin has tiny wooden swords and axes made in time for your little arrivals, ensuring the axes match his to a tee.

✧ He sleeps flush against you now, head leaned against your growing belly and one hand firmly atop it like a lovely little line of defense.

✧ You have him absolutely wrapped around your finger, even more so now. Bat your eyelashes at him and make any request and he melts like butter. You’ll never want long for anything you crave!

✧ Admittedly he knows very little of a woman’s workings, but the moment he hears all your explanations he dubs you as great a warrior as he! “Beautiful as the stars and strong as the mountains to boot! That’s my girl.”

Thorin

✧ He has waited so long for this. So many years of this hanging pressure and yet when he has you by his side, all the feeling of necessity behind trying fades away. You two can simply enjoy life. So when you return to Thorin's side one day, eyes brimming with tears, all you say to him is "It's happened". And with that you see your king, your husband, collapse as if his whole body is sighing, pulling you into him like he needs you to breathe. One hand reaches up to hold the back of your head, gently caressing your hair.

✧ Vows every day that he will protect you both, be the father and husband you deserve, taking your hands in his and then leaning down to address both his queen and your child.

✧ Thorin also assures you that despite what any members of the court say, your new addition will be equally loved and equally worthy of the throne whether you welcome a son or a daughter. "All I wish is a healthy child with their mother's heart." "And their father's good looks," you tease in response, pulling your husband in for a kiss.

✧ You begin stealing his clothes, stating that his tunics are so much more comfortable than your dresses with an innocent bat of your eyelashes that has Thorin relenting every single time, heart rent at the way they begin fitting you tighter.

✧ You see a different side of Thorin in this stage of your marriage, one you’ll never complain about, not when he softens so, gazes down upon you with such love as he hovers over you, kissing your lips, your neck, your belly.

✧ There is no denying that you both glow during this time, pride and joy illuminating Thorin’s features right alongside the radiance of your childbearing state. Everyone stops you to say what a beautiful couple you are and you cannot help the flush of heat that rises to your face as Thorin thanks them and guides you away from the crowd, a protective hand on the small of your back

Oin

✧ Predicts it before you even realize because you’re exhibiting all the telltale symptoms; annoyed as you may be by his insistence that you are with child, what do you know? Oin is right. Oin is, unfortunately, also quite smug about this. Once the initial triumph wears off, though, he’s shouting for joy and crushing you with a hug!

✧ The absolute dream husband to have when you're with child, for he has worked taking care of countless dwarrowdams in your condition. He knows what you need. He understands. And most importantly, he does not judge.

✧ In fact, you two get a kick out of poking fun at the other husbands who roll their eyes at their wives' demands or take shots at their cravings because, frankly, that could never be you. "He doesn't know her body needs more iron!" "I bet he moans and groans about grabbing her a pillow, too."

✧ Having married such a well-known dwarrow, you’ll have all manner of strangers approaching you with congratulations that you reluctantly just accept, correctly assuming they’re patients of Oin’s that he’s proudly blabbed to.

✧ He’s always asking you to guess if you’re having a boy or a girl, insisting that “‘tis the mother’s intuition, after all.”

✧ You insist on remaining on your feet as long as possible, and your husband does not protest, knowing that exercise is good for the baby. That doesn’t mean he won’t be right behind you to catch you if you fall or check on your precious little bump, though, of course.

Gloin

✧ Not so subtle in his so-called 'baby fever', your husband has been going on and on about how his child will be his little flame, the apple of his eye, his world. You have no fear, then, sharing the news, in fact you amuse yourself by dropping your state in conversation like the plainest fact. "I'm glad you've got those new blankets, dear, what with the baby coming in winter and all," you told Gloin, taking a sip of your tea. Deafening is the only word you can use to describe the roar of celebration he gives, wonderfully bone-crushing and teeth-rattling your embrace and kiss.

✧ Tackles you to bed almost every night the first week, covering your cheeks and belly alike with kisses.

✧ Spends that very same time period sharing with absolutely any soul who even remotely listens that he’s going to be a father!

✧ Gloin is very insistent upon your care, even taking it upon himself to make your meals by hand. Which, suffice it to say, is a bit disastrous the first few times but he emerges triumphant in the end and succeeds in filling you with all the hearty things your budding dwarrowling needs!

✧ Being married to a dwarf means you have a husband who absolutely adores the extra pounds you put on and has no qualms about showing you in and out of the bedroom! Even just stopping by the market he’ll be wrapped around you.

✧ Encourages the baby every time they kick, shouting out praise of their strength while you tell him to cool it, all those kicks are going to you!

Bifur

✧ A large part of him thought that he would never be able to experience fatherhood. Not since the injury, and that had happened at such a young age. You cut right through that fear, assured Bifur that he would be an amazing father regardless of if he did some things differently. And that he would soon see, for your family would be growing early the next year.

✧ In all honesty, you feel blessed to have a husband who signs, for your baby will likely be able to communicate early! When you tell Bifur this he breaks out into tears, for what an angel you are to see the beauty in him. Every side of him. He promises to do the same.

✧ And make good on that does he! You will never want for love for even on your illest days Bifur is right by your side, his caresses gentle and speaking volumes of adoration.

✧ Absolutely adores jumping into the bath with you! His excuse being he has to help you and may as well rinse his beard off, but you can see how eager he is to run his hands over your hair and see the way your body relaxes at his cleansing touch. He wants nothing more than to feel useful, needed, and you assure him you cannot do this without him.

✧ Again and again, in fact, on the days when he stands behind you, holding up your burden and cheering you with little jokes and flirtation in Khuzdul even as you are overcome with exhaustion.

✧ Proudly tells everyone who will listen that he’s got a little warrior in there whenever the baby kicks!

Bofur

✧ You hadn’t exactly been trying. You hadn’t exactly been not trying, either. The news comes to you through a haze, muffled by the great rush of other thoughts bombarding your mind and sending your heart beating, but at their heart comes the image of Bofur holding a little one and bouncing them upon his knee and your chest flutters and soars. Your visit is completed all in smiles, and upon returning him to your husband’s questioning about the flu you’ve gone in for, you tell him it likely will not go away until the end of the year. “The end of the year? Why ever that long? I’ve never heard of a flu like that, not even-” “‘tisn’t a flu, my darling,” you smirk at him, “it’s a baby.” “A- you’re- we’re gonna have a-” Bofur is all agape, stepping closer and hovering his hands over your middle like he doesn’t want to grip you in a way that breaks you. “That all right?” You ask, half-teasing, for he has recently confided in you his envy of Bombur’s family. “All right? Song of my heart, I could kiss you!” “Well, what’s stopping you?”

✧ If you thought Bofur was affectionate before, well Mahal be with you, for you haven't seen anything yet! He falls even more in love with your body knowing it's carrying his and your child, hands nearly always holding or roaming you. When you're out and about, your husband usually has a hand at the small of your back, supporting the weight you carry as you walk and running soothingly up and down. Kisses all over your belly in private.

✧ This lends to how quick your husband is to reassure you on days you don't feel so friendly with your body, those times when you'd like nothing more than to shatter the looking-glass. "All I see," Bofur tells you one day, a hand on each of your shoulders as you peer together, "Is the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my lucky eyes upon, and she's not got an easy job. If I were her, I'd be proud of myself. Proud of making a comfortable home for our little one. And if I was her husband, why, I'd take her as she is right here and now! Right nice for me I am her husband, eh?"

✧ “Imagine havin’ a little girl.” Lying side by side, you heard Bofur’s wistful tone and felt a small smile creep onto your lips. “I’ll do her hair up in braids and tie them with ribbons. She’ll have all the pretty things she wants, because I have mine right here,” he adds, turning over to caress your belly and pull your lips into his.

✧ Marrying a toymaker comes with distinct perks: your husband crafts the most magnificent little wheeled contraptions and carven animals for your new addition! He spends hours carving and glazing them, and sometimes you catch him having fallen asleep at his workbench when you struggle to stay in dreamland, covering him up with a spare blanket.

✧ You worry because the baby doesn’t seem to move much, but Oin confirms everything seems to be going fine. “Your wee bairn just got this one’s personality, it seems!” He jokes, stabbing a mock-accusatory finger Bofur’s way.

Bombur

✧ A baker's dozen. For as long as you've known him, that's how many wee ones Bombur purported wanting. Thirteen more than most dwarves have, you always tease him, but in reality every time you see your sweet husband with children and hear him dream of a family your heart leaps. That is why the moment you take his hands and tell him it's come true is special, intimate, a quiet draw in and out of breath that has him sobbing joyously and nuzzling into your embrace with so much love your chest bursts from the flight of it.

✧ Sixth senses never seemed real to you until you became pregnant and it was like Bombur knew what you were craving and was making it before you could even say anything!

✧ Cannot keep away from you. Always wants to be kissing you and cupping your cheeks and holding your hands, just so so sweet!

✧ Bombur is so much more good-natured than you, for all the jokes about how you'll be as big as him soon have you swinging, but he just holds you back and laughs alongside them, saying he's looking forward to it with a twinkle in his eye.

✧ Literally baffled if you ever feel bad about your body; his legitimate confusion alone halfway snaps you out of the sad reverie, and all the following words about your beauty and your husband's appreciation of every inch does the rest.

✧ "You know I'll keep you safe, right? Both of you," he tells you one day, a hand resting upon your bump, "I may not be some great warrior, but Mahal help anyone who comes between us."

Dori

✧ From even before you were actually wed you knew that Dori would be an excellent father. Having taken care of his younger brothers from quite an early age, he had knowledge atop a naturally caring personality you fell for. Gentlemanly Dori waited with you, keeping chaste until after your wedding, but once it is official you know your news could come at any time and you accept that. On your one-year anniversary, in fact, your first gift to Dori is the tiniest bracelet of fine amber beads. “Does this mean…?” As soon as he sees you nod, Dori is taking you in his arms, cradling you gently as if you were made of fine porcelain and thrice as precious.

✧ Caring father-to-be. A little too caring. "If those are too heavy for you, I can carry them!" "They're just books, I'll be alright, Dori." "Oh, don't eat that, you got sick last time." "I haven't been sick in a month!" "That's a lot of steps, should I carry you?" "...Actually, sure."

✧ Always sleeps with his arm wrapped around your middle. No exceptions.

✧ Has every manner of tea and remedy you could desire on hand or otherwise purchases it. Same goes for supplies- Dori even found a ring-shaped cushion for you to lay on! He has your back for any ailment and is often there to make or apply your cure himself. After all, he wouldn't trust anyone else to do it!

✧ You love this dwarf with all your heart. He takes it upon himself to find dwarrowdams willing to let him practice changing diapers on their wee bairns and surprises you with this newfound skill when you return home one day!

✧ Dori’s love of the finer things absolutely carries over into his future fatherhood, as he has the loveliest little velvet clothes made and procures the dearest little bejeweled hairbrush. All in all, both of you amass far more than you need because any time you go out it inevitably devolves into you two clasping your joined hands between each other, gushing over all the wee things, and taking them home!

Nori

✧ He never thought he would get married at all, let alone have a family, but as time goes on the desire to continue his lineage and finally settle down takes hold. Then suddenly there he is desperately trying to seduce you into trying for a little one! It doesn't take long, not with his charm, until the day comes when you teasingly tell him that he got his way. Smirking until the realization takes hold of him, his arms are then snaking around your waist to pull you close.

✧ Always talking about how he's going to teach his little one everything he knows. When pressed about it, responds with such things as fighting and picking locks. His defense? "What if 'e gets stuck somewhere, or-"

✧ Impatient! "When am I gonna be able to feel 'em?" He asks, a hand upon your belly, which has yet to display any changes. "Not for another few months, Nori! I haven't even begun to show!"

✧ Hides things sometimes or puts them up places you can't go just so he can swoop in and help you, saving your day and pressing a kiss to your cheek as he tells you he can handle it, don't you worry your pretty little head.

✧ Nori always teases you when he pours himself a drink. "Bet you'd like some of this, huh? Not for three more months!" He chuckles. Your brows furrow. "Three months? What about when I'm feeding?" "What does tha- oh. Does that really-" "Yes, yes it does." "By the stars, I could have got my baby drunk!"

✧ Talks to the baby quite a bit, especially when he finally can feel the kicks. "Where you running off to, huh?" He chuckles, feeling the flutters against his hand pick up. "That's 'cause of me, isn't it? You hear me? That's right, it's your da. Can you believe it? Me, your da! I'll take good care of you, you hear?"

Ori

✧ "Ori, dear," you implored your husband, "Might you knit something for me?" Looking up from the scarf he'd just finished, Ori's eyes fell upon you and he gave that smile, the special one reserved just for you. "Of course. What would you like?" "A wee pair of booties," you replied, hands clasped and expression dreamy. "Who needs booties?" He asked, head cocked. "We will in the fall," you answered, stepping closer and resting a hand upon his. Ori's jaw dropped. "You... I... We-" Smile widening, you nodded. "I. You. We," you agreed.

✧ Nearly from the first day you know you are with child, Ori is rattling off names. After tossing out a great deal, he finally pauses and gives a sheepish apology. "I'm sorry, I suppose I've thought about this a lot," he confesses with a grin, "I just can't believe it's happening." Your hand joins with his, resting over your little bump. "Neither can I. It's like a dream."

✧ "So," you ask Ori one day, leaning your chin upon the couch where you'd lain, "What should our plan be for when my water breaks?" Your husband's brows furrow. "When your what?" "Oh, no," you mutter. Cue Ori spending his afternoon receiving a great multitude of lessons. What he got for being raised by other dwarf men, you suppose. "That really all happens to you?" He asks, gaping at you as though you came of the Valar themselves. "Yes, it does. Birth is a great deal of work. They don't just run on out, you know!" "Yes, I know. Of course I know." Ori's voice is faint; he excuses himself and you assume it's to faint or be sick, but about an hour later he returns bearing gifts. "I'm sorry I'm putting you through all that." "Sweetheart," you chuckle, cupping his cheek, "You know it takes two, right?" Your sweet husband reddened, but he nodded.

✧ Ori takes on almost all the cleaning himself- you haven't even asked! Finally curiosity gets the better of you and you inquire as to why he's gotten so into housekeeping. "Well, aren't you tired?" He asks simply, innocently, and you wonder how you got so lucky.

✧ He also knits far more than that pair of booties you requested- all three of you will have matching sweaters before your little one has arrived!

✧ Ori's favorite thing in the world is sitting with you in his lap, one hand cradling your growing bump and the other holding a book as you two take turns reading aloud, filling your cozy hollow with the sounds of voices your little one will come to love. The books are hand-drawn, written, and bound by him, of course!

Fili

✧ You two speak of little ones so much it borderline infuriates the others, Kili himself even bursting out in frustration one day at yet another interruption about tiny clothes, "Just get her pregnant already!" "Good idea. See you later," Fili replies, scooping you up and carrying you off bridal-style. "Wait, I- Damn, brother..." In reality, Fili just carried you around the corner and set you down while you two burst out laughing, but about a month later your tries were in fact successful!

✧ Honeyed words were no trouble for your husband before, but now? Praise falls endlessly from his lips. "Never did I think you could get more beautiful, and yet each day you succeed beyond my wildest dreams."

✧ Fili has a near-magical sense for your new struggles of coordination, all but flying to your side to catch your hand or waist whenever you trip or even whenever you must rise up again from your seat!

✧ He loves to tease you, asking what disgusting thing you'll think of him to fix next or joke that he can finally beat you in a fight in this state, but every joke is punctuated by the most loving eyes and gestures that they cannot do a thing but warm your heart and make you chuckle.

✧ Your baby is very active, kicking all the time! "We've definitely got a little Fili in here!" Your husband exclaims with a grin, hand resting atop your belly to feel your little one's exuberant motions. "A strong babe for sure," you sigh, "Much to the pity of my ribs!" "Too bad we aren't having a Kili. Nice and lazy for you." "Hey, I heard that!"

✧ He turns his head, peering over his shoulder at you as you waddle after him, golden hair cascading down. "Care for me to slow down a little?" "I care for you to shut up," you shoot back, crossing your arms and fighting your smile.

Kili

✧ The thought crossed your mind far before it did your husband's. Not that Kili had no desire for children, it was simply that the possibility was all the more yours to consider. It took a visit from your young cousin, who had Kili wrapped around your finger, for the fire to light in your husband's head as well, a smile lighting up his face. "We- we could..." "I know, Kili." You could and you certainly did but a few months later.

✧ "I hope they look just like you." "Me too." Kili pulls his head out of the crook of your neck. "Hey, that is the part where you say 'no, I hope they look like you'!" "I'm doing the work of carrying for how long again? Nine, ten months? Least they can do is resemble me a little," you shoot back with a smirk.

✧ It was Oin who brought the news: "Both babies seem healthy as far as I can tell!" "Both?" You gape. "Both babies?" "'s right," Oin replies, "I know I can't always hear the best, but I haven't been wrong on a heartbeat yet. You can feel 'em." "Guess we did pretty good, eh love?" Kili teases, earning him an elbow to the ribs, but he just shakes his head and tugs you closer against his chest. "Should we make their names confusing as well?" "Don't you think it might get old for them?" "Fili and I switched names plenty of times and we aren't even identical!" You should have known.

✧ Kili takes to sleeping facing you, close enough that sometimes your cheeks brush. Others he slips down lower and you awake with your husband cuddled up to the bump of your belly.

✧ Will come running from any room, anywhere, to feel the babies kick, and also loves tugging along any of his family he can take, too. Childlike wonder fills your husband's eyes every time and pride glistens in his dark eyes when he's brought along his mother, his brother, even his uncle the king!

✧ Never once do you doubt yourself or have one moment of room for insecurity, for Kili still flirts with you as if you were tweens and sneaks all sorts of touches, pecks, and affectionate hands in your hair wherever he can find it! The notion of a baby destroying the romance of your relationship is laughable to you, who married a dwarf that has no shame telling you you're the most gorgeous creature to walk the earth and warm his-and the baby's in a different way-body.

Bilbo

✧ Bilbo's a perceptive hobbit. He knows something's off with you. You don't usually scurry around the way you are like everything has to be perfect. That's his job. "Something the matter? Are you... expecting someone?" Your husband follows you down Bag End's hall as he gives his inquiry, eyebrows shooting up at the look on your face when you turn around. Consternation, resignation, finally a smile. "I was going to tell you after dinner," you answered, "But since you asked it like that, yes I am expecting someone. Our child this spring." At that, it was Bilbo's turn to shift through expressions. Shock, realization, finally a smile.

✧ Nursery shopping has become Bilbo's favorite pastime. Baby Baggins isn't arriving for months and yet your husband is returning from market with all manner of trinkets for the shelves and paper for the walls. You cannot help giggling at his armfuls of supplies and kissing his cheek as you relieve as much of his burden as he allows you to.

✧ So sweet, always helping you dress, pulling on every garment with the utmost of care and even avoiding your reflection on days you feel bad. Quickly kissing each part of your body before he covers it with something he knows will be comfortable.

✧ You'll be eating well whether you like it or not! Bilbo will make you anything under the sun if it means you and Baby Baggins are getting nourishment and he certainly will not have you skimping! Anything that makes you sick simply is not allowed in Bag End at all, end of discussion.

✧ One night, you awake to soft whispers and your heart melts at the sight of Bilbo resting his chin on your growing bump talking to the baby. Not uttering a word, you simply watch, taking in the moment beneath the sheen of tears in your eyes.

✧ "Careful, careful," Bilbo is always telling you, holding your hand and guiding you over the smallest of obstacles, even little puddles and rocks.

Thranduil

✧ He has talked about getting you pregnant before, but speaking of it and doing it are two entirely different things, especially with...well, words of such nature. Thus, you find yourself nervously wringing your hands before your husband as he strokes your face, asking whatever is the matter. At Thranduil's touch, his intense gaze, you fin yourself melting and admitting all, confessing that you are expecting his child. You are certainly not expecting the way his confident smile utterly falters, dissipating in favor of the look of a man near tears. "Truly? A little one of our own?" "Yes," you whisper, finally able to smile as the tension melts from your body, which is soon pulled against the Woodland King's. "Long have I dreamed of this day, my love."

✧ One of his favorite new activities is commissioning you new maternity dresses; you will certainly have plenty to wear if Thranduil has any say about it! In addition, when the time comes of course he requests that you model them for him.

✧ Thranduil loves to sneak up behind you, lightly wrapping his hands about your waist and laying them atop yours, his head resting in the crook of your neck and breathy, pleased laughter warming the skin there.

✧ When you start showing, oh, he loves it. One more sign that you are his, utterly and truly his queen, his beloved, claimed by Thranduil in every sense. He follows your lead, a hand around your waist, letting you shine like the gem he knows you to be. Rarely will you two be seen apart, not when the king can bask in your glow, relish the eyes upon your beautiful form, heavy with his child.

✧ There is one day he catches you in tears and heart tearing he steps to scoop you up against him, cheeks held gently in his elegant hands, which begin to glitter with your tears. "My rings no longer fit," you sob, head falling to his chest. Thranduil holds you close, grip loose as though you might break. "That is not your fault, meleth nîn." "I feel so... so massive." "Who wishes a small dwelling, hm? Piteous thing not to have any comforts. Your body is a host of life, the vessel of a bloodline. Beautiful in all its forms. Never forget that, oh dearest one."

✧ Thranduil is experienced; he knows many little tricks to help you feel better, be they massages or ways to bear your weight. He impresses you with the knowledge he has of the ways of women, understanding your water breaking, dilation, and every complication the healers warn you about and telling you before they even do!

Feren

✧ First to know was neither you nor your husband, but rather your cat, for she had suddenly become your little shadow, following you about your home and taking rest upon your lap as often as she could. "I wonder what it is that got into her," you commented one afternoon, smiling and stroking her back. "Growing up, ours got like this when my mother was carrying my younger sisters. Both times. It was like he could sense it," Feren replied. You both sat in smiling silence for a moment longer before simultaneously straightening, looking each other right in the widening eyes.

✧ Gets a little flustered, frankly. Not so much at your news itself, simply the realization sinking in that he is to be a father. He, Feren, will have a child. He says this out loud several times before suddenly breaking out into a smile. You tease him for going through half his emotions at once, but now the wave of joy has swept him up!

✧ Playfully rolls his eyes and mock-complains every time you remind him that he has to clean up after the cat now! Subsequently adds that he would fetch you the moon if you asked it.

✧ Loves helping you bathe the more difficult your condition makes it, scrubbing your hair with such care and gently massaging your sore feet and ankles as you wash up. Despite your husband's skill in battle, Feren's hands are the most loving and delicate you could ask for.

✧ Your husband has a natural tendency to rise early, so now that your sleep has become more fitful you do find that you have more time to spend together. Your head falling to his shoulder as you whisper to each other, seated as you are upon your bed with blankets draped over your shoulders.

✧ Feren wins your heart time and time again, like the day he lowered you down gently onto the grass of a sunny meadow, basking with you and weaving flowers. He made you a ring, crowned you with a wreath of flowers atop your head, and made another little one to place gently on the curve of your belly, bringing your heart to soar.

Bard

✧ Uncertainty wracks your heart and wrings your hands at the would-be-cheerful news. In fact, you yourself do feel joy, have since your suspicions were confirmed, but would Bard see it the same way? He already has three mouths to feed, three children all old enough to take care of themselves. Will he wish to start it all over so? "What's wrong, love? Your lip is bleeding." So it is. You've practically gnawed the poor thing off in all your stewing. A sigh escapes you. Bard is your husband. No sense in delaying a very necessary conversation. "I know we should have spoken more about it..." You begin, trailing off. At once, Bard senses your reservation and rises to your side, taking hold of your arms; the love in his dark eyes brings a small smile to your lips and relaxes you slightly. "I'm with child, Bard." Almost childlike is the wonder and joy spreading across your face, and before you can say another word you are being pulled into Bard's chest, face snuggling into the fur of his coat.

✧ He knows what to expect, naturally, so Bard is definitely not the type of husband to gripe about your requests, though he does smirk and poke fun if you’re especially outrageous with it or have a funny enough delivery. Then kisses you if you pout about it before fetching what you seek.

✧ Caution overtakes you and your husband as you make to tell his older children the news, particularly you, but your wringing hands relax when you can see the joy in their eyes, particularly the girls! They hope the baby is another girl, hugging you so tight you almost cannot breathe, but you complain not.

✧ Happy is Bard to take on assistance cooking; he knows it can make you sick sometimes and besides, it's a nice excuse to make sure you get all the nutrients you need! You are certainly very lucky in the skill and domesticity of your spouse.

✧ Stands behind you and reaches his arms around you, lifting up the weight you carry and smiling, kissing your neck and cheeks as you relax from your burden.

✧ He also has no qualms about making you rest, down even to physically lifting you up and carrying you to bed if he must!

Beorn

✧ Hesitant as he always would have claimed to be about bringing more Skin-Changers into a world so cruel to them, Beorn feels his nesting instincts kick in very quickly after you become his wife. You see it in the things he gathers, the way your husband moves things such as your blades to higher, safer locations. He is anticipating something. Something you cannot help pulling him aside and asking about, and when your feelings on the subject are made known, well, it is entirely possible you conceived that very night.

✧ Beorn has an almost eerie sense for all the changes taking place in your body. You feel a sharp pain in your back, and without a word your husband is behind you, ushering you down for a massage with some of the oils he's pressed.

✧ The aforementioned nesting instincts manifest early on, your husband carefully blunting corners and tucking away the best blankets so the little one-or ones!- will be nothing but safe and comfortable.

✧ Withdrawn as he could be, Beorn's affection is drawn out by your condition, his big brown eyes soft upon you as he pulls you into his lap, large hands secure about your waist and sliding gently up and down your growing belly.

✧ And grow it does! It seems to get heavier by the day, but that is explained thanks to your husband's exceptional hearing. "Four heartbeats. One is yours. A litter- three are coming!" Spots dance in your vision at that news, but Beorn's smile as he grips your hand brings you back to the light. You could do it with him by your side. "Our little litter."

✧ He attempts to reassure you anytime your anxiety grows. "My dearest flower, I have delivered hundreds of calves and piglets in my day! You will see this through." Reassuring? Perhaps not so much. But in your heightened emotion, that does break you into a wild laughter that does indeed relax you nonetheless.

Want to meet the little ones? Perhaps there will be a Part 2 😉

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago

Text

Daily Ficlet

I'm challenging myself to write a little ficlet every day, using the prompts from this list. Today's prompt is coffee smell.

Eddie wakes to the smell of coffee.

That's not unusual for him. Wayne drinks coffee like water, has it both to wake up and go to bed. It's just that, usually, the coffee smell is fainter, having to make its way from the kitchen and through the door to his bedroom.

Did he leave the door open last night? That'd have been a bad idea, given what Steve and he got up to-

Oh. Oh shit! Steve and he-

Eddie cracks his eyes open finally. He's where he usually is when he wakes up; on the side of the bed closest to the door, on his stomach, arm hanging off the bed and face turned towards the door. The door, which is open, and Eddie knows he closed it because he remembers Steve pinning him against it as soon as Eddie had turned back around. Steve crowding into his space, one hand braced on the door beside Eddie's head, the other curling possessively on Eddie's hip. Steve dipping his head to nibble at his shoulder, before kissing and nibbling his way up Eddie's neck, jaw line, capturing Eddie's bottom lip between his teeth before kissing him properly, like Eddie has been wanting him to do since- well, forever probably.

He does a quick scan of the room, but Steve's shirt isn't on the floor by the door where Eddie had ripped it off him. And that. It's fine. Eddie's used to not getting the guy at the end of the story. There were no expectations, they didn't- well, there were promises whispered, but that's just. It's just the kind of words that slip out when wrapped up in the heat of the moment, yeah?

("God, you're so beautiful, Stevie. Beautiful and perfect for me." "Yes, yes, perfect for you. Wanna be. Wanna be perfect for you. Just you. Yours." "Mine. Just mine. You're mine, and I'm yours." "Yes yes yes yes!")

Just words said in the dark of night. Even if Eddie wants them to be real now. Wants to be Steve's and wants Steve to be his. If he just lays here, he can pretend a bit more. He can pretend that Steve's still asleep on the other side of the bed. That the door is open for any other reason than Steve slipping out while Eddie slept.

His other arm, the one trapped beneath him, is starting to get pins and needles, though, so he has to move. He heaves a sigh and digs his elbow into the mattress, using it as leverage to roll onto his back and away from the edge of the bed and-

"You awake babe?"

Eddie doesn't yelp. He'll deny it happening to the end of his days, but he wasn't expecting to hear a voice. Wasn't expecting- "Stevie."

"That's me," Steve says with a laugh. Steve, who has, apparently this whole time, been sitting up on the other side of the bed, Eddie's well-loved copy of The Hobbit in his hands, his shirt tragically back on. He tosses it softly towards the foot of the bed before shifting to drape himself across Eddie, propping himself up with an elbow near Eddie's head. Steve's other hand comes up to brush the hair from Eddie's face before trailing down his neck, across his shoulder, and down his whole arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake, before Steve tangles their fingers together and gives Eddie's hand a light squeeze that he reciprocates on instinct. It's the right thing to do, Eddie decides, because the smile the spreads across Steve's face is soft and so fond before disappearing from view because Steve lowers himself down to press sweet and gentle kisses to Eddie's lips, once, twice, thrice, before peppering kisses to every inch of Eddie's face he can. Eddie is expecting morning breath, but Steve smells of coffee.

A smile spreads across Eddie's own lips, and laughter follows, because this is so sweet, so fond, makes him feel so safe and loved that the joy Eddie feels has to break free from his body somehow. He chases Steve's mouth down again to kiss him deeper, licking into his mouth to chase the coffee taste. The kisses turn lazy and eventually Steve pulls back, a dopey smile on his face that Eddie is sure is also on his own face. "Good morning."

"Good morning indeed," Eddie says, his thumb rubbing softly against Steve's where they're still holding hands. "Why're you wearing your shirt?"

Steve gives a one shoulder shrug. "Didn't think Wayne would appreciate the view as much as you do."

Eddie blinks up at him. "Wayne's up?"

"He made the coffee that lured me from your bed," Steve says, and his tone is teasing but there's something in his eyes, in the way Eddie feels him tense just the slightest that makes Eddie think 'Oh!' again.

Eddie had been so sure early, that Steve would rather slink away before Eddie woke, but he thinks Steve has the fear of being kicked out now that he's awake. Of having overstayed his welcome, or pushed at a boundary he didn't know Eddie set. Can't have him thinking that. "Well, you're probably right, he wouldn't enjoy the view as much as I. You let me know if that ever changes. I'll not have an old man trying to steal my boyfriend."

That's the right thing to say, Eddie knows immediately. Steve settles completely against him in a way Eddie hadn't known was possible. It's not that Steve gets heavier as he lays across him more, but Eddie feels him press more into him somehow. Clutches tighter at their joined hands and leans back down to rubs his nose against Eddie's cheek. "Worry not, babe. There's only one Munson I want to call boyfriend."

And that. Well. How is Eddie supposed to not kiss Steve -his boyfriend- silly after that?

#steddie #my fic #just a lil ficlet #wayne's just out in the living room turning the tv up so he doesnt have to hear them making out

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conkers-thecosy · 1 year ago

Text

Oh, to be a delightfully plump little hobbit living in a cosy hole in the ground, with nothing more pressing to do than gardening, reading, gossiping at the market, and finding time for seven square meals through the day...

#the hobbit #lotr #lord of the rings #hobbit #hobbits #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #lola stuff

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shares-a-vest · 1 year ago

Text

Eddie reaches for Steve's fruity-scented shampoo - the stuff he swears he hasn't been using each and every time he stays over. He pops the cap and then the lights go out.

He screams bloody murder and drops the shampoo bottle. He kicks it and presses his palms against the nearest surfaces. One on the tiled wall, the other on the glass as he does everything to stop himself from moving his feet because, if he trips on that fucking fruity shampoo that makes Steve's hair oh-so-silky, he'll go slipping and sliding straight through the glass and into the goddamn toilet.

And he cannot die like that, buck-naked as the day he was born.

Though, if he absolutely had to die in the nude, he'd want it to be while he's railing someone six ways from Sunday...

Preferably the hunk who is bursting in through the bathroom door and waving a flashlight right in his eyes.

Steve opens the shower and reaches in to shut off the water. Eddie palms around and grips his boyfriend's wrist, impossibly warm despite now being wet.

"Are you... uh..." Steve drops the light enough from him to stop spluttering about. Eddie blinks hard, regaining enough focus to find a sly smile tugging at the corner of Steve's lips as he attempts to be serious, "Um, are you okay?"

Alright, maybe falling head-first into the toilet would have been a little less embarrassing than this: Steve staring back at him and snickering. He cups his junk and grumbles.

"Towel?" he spits, holding out one hand.

"Sorry," Steve says as he hands the brown (seriously, why do the Harrington's enjoy brown so much) towel over, "It's just you looked like you were in the middle of some naked jumping-jacks."

"Stevie, I was terrified," he retorts, drying off his arms and hands first so he can get a better grip on anything so he can safely get out of the damn shower before it becomes a fogged-up glass tomb.

But Steve places the flashlight tight under one arm and spots him, hovering one hand and placing the other on his dripping wet hip.

"I know," he soothes, now completely serious, "I was scared too."

Eddie doesn't care that he is mostly wet and that his hair is completely soaked, he goes right into Steve's strong arms, feeling his navy-blue sweater quickly dampen between them. Steve maneuvers around to stop their bodies from completely blocking their light source and hugs him tight.

"So stupid," Eddie can't help but mutter, "How am I more scared of the fucking dark than I was when I was six? Besides, how do you even lose power out here in Richie Richville?"

"Well, considering this house is surrounded by trees," Steve shrugs, "We lose power quite easily in bad weather," he pulls back enough to give a dangerously-teasing smirk considering Eddie's state of undress, "Thought you'd enjoy some candles and what-not, anyway. Doesn't Bilbo Baggins scurry around his cottage with a candlestick?"

Now it's Eddie's turn to move away as he hurriedly wraps the towel around himself - to protect his modesty. Yeah... that.

"Excuse me?" he exclaims, "He lives in a Hobbit hole, for one. And I'll have you know his home is well-lit."

"Come on!" Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes and taking his hand.

He leads them back into his bedroom, which at least has some moonlight peaking in from the windows. And yeah, now Eddie can really hear the source of the power outage. The wind outside and the trees that shroud Loch Nora sound like a goddamn tornado.

"Though I think Rivendell surely must have had some sort of electricity," he wonders aloud as he attempts to focus on something else.

"We can debate the infrastructure of Middle Earth later," Steve chuckles and promptly shoves a pair of sweatpants into his hands.

Eddie steps forward, smiling bashfully.

"You mean it?" he coos, biting the 't'.

Steve's eyes flick to his lips as he bites his own, "I can think of a few things we could do that don't involve the power being on."

Eddie opens his mouth, readying himself for a lame line about their palpable electricity that will probably make Steve laugh when the damn radio crackles.

If a physical object could be a boner-killer, it's the damn radio Steve currently has attached to his hip.

"Steeeve is the power out at your house, overrr!" Dustin screeches the moment Steve fishes it from his back pocket.

"Yes, over," Steve answers. He holds a finger up, silently asking Eddie to wait as they make no attempt to move an inch from each other's personal space, "I'mfine-okaygoodbye!"

He clicks the radio off completely and tosses it on his dresser, paying no mind to the fact it sends his Little League trophy toppling onto the carpet.

#ironically i drafted half of this last night when i thought the power was going to go off bc of the weather #but then ONLY the internet went off 💀💀💀#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #lilys ficlets

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buckyalpine · 2 years ago

Text

A little longer

HI MY BEAUTIFUL 🐚ANON!! I adore this so much, I adore YOU so much, as always, your requests are everything!!

Warnings: So so much fluffy fluff, angst if you really squint till your eyes go cross-eyed and blurry

"It's been decades. Not even a couple years. Almost a century. You probably shoot dust. Or whatever your bionic ass reproduces with"

Bucky contemplated throwing his half finished milkshake at Sam's head while they both scarfed down burgers from a late night diner after a taxing mission. Sam was pestering Bucky yet again about his nonexistent social and lack of a love life, a topic he seemed to get high off of.

“For fucks sake Sam-”

"You need to get out more man, at least start dating. You don't need a whole girlfriend but a few dates wouldn't kill you. Or maybe it would, since you're what, 106?"

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face, his patience wearing thin. Dating wasn’t for him, not because he didn’t want to date but because he wasn’t sure who would even date him. He’d only just gotten comfortable talking to Sam though he’d never openly admit he actually enjoyed their conversations. He wasn’t exactly the most approachable, Peter had once told him he had a resting bitch face, whatever that meant. He wasn’t the most tech savvy unless it involved doing something illegal. He had a plethora of devices that could take down the US government at the push of a button he secrecy hoarded under his bed but God forbid someone ask him to pose for their Instagram story.

Talking to a pretty girl was a completely different story. What would he even talk about? His time before the war involved a lot of nursing an injured or sick Steve back to health. After the war and his time in Hydra, he didn’t really have time for himself. He liked plums. The hobbit. He was thinking about getting a cat. Bucky internally groaned, maybe he’d find a girlfriend at the retirement home down the street; at least they’d have things in common.

Sam cocked an eyebrow while Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. Usually he’d respond with a grumpy pout or complete silence but today his exhaustion had caught up with him. He debated on how to get Sam of his back, a dim, flickering, half broken bulb going off in his sleep deprived brain.

"I already have a girlfriend Tweety bird"

The deafening silence that followed that statement made it clear both men were aware that was a lie. Sam snorted, shaking his head while they both finished they food, slapping a $50 on the counter before leaving. He looked at the super soldier, deciding not to press into the issue further for the night but he definitely wasn’t going to let it go that easily.

5:30 AM

The buzz of his phone jolted him awake, the faint sound of the TV still playing in the background. Bucky felt around for his phone, tossing his sheet off, sitting up from his place on the floor seeing Sam’s caller ID light up the screen.

“What are you doing next Saturday” Sam sounded unusually chipper, a hint of a smirk in his voice, a suspicious amount of enthusiasm for such an early hour.

“Why” Bucky groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes, going back to lying down.

“Were having a cookout over the weekend, you should come”

“You woke me up to tell me what could have been a text message?” Bucky asked incredulously, closing his eyes, ready to let sleep free him from such a ridiculous conversation.

“Ooo, white panther knows how to text now”

“White Wolf” Bucky grumbled, regretting every telling Sam the name he had been given in Wakanda. “I’ll come if you just let me go back to sleep”

"Alright, but bring your girl too"

There it was.

He could feel the shit eating grin Sam was giving him over the phone, eye brows wigging up and down, all his perfect teeth out.

“Whatcha say Barnes?”

Sleep had disappeared into thin air as Bucky shot up, mentally kicking himself for the nonsense he’d gotten himself into. He fiddled with the corner of his sheet, hoping to find an out.

"I thought you only invited family"

"Hey, anyone that you're allowing within 3 feet of your personal space might as well be considered family" Sam snorted, not believing a single word Bucky had said the night before. The conversation moved on to a different topic, easing some of Bucky’s nerves. A whole hour had passed and Bucky was sure he was in the clear until-

“Back to the matter at hand, you bringing her or not?”

“Why are you like this, does being Captain America always come with the caveat with also being a pain in my ass, I’m not going to-”

Bucky was about to refuse until a knock at the door pulled him away from the conversation, the scent of fresh pancakes wafting through the door. He pulled himself up, a smile tugging on his lips, knowing exactly who was on the other side, not needing to check as he untangled himself from the sheets.

His sweet neighbor.

Bucky wasn’t religious and he wasn’t a big believer in a higher power but there had to be something out there when people like you existed. Whenever Sam asked him why he stayed in the dingy little apartment that barely had windows and a closet for a bedroom, he’d insist it was because he preferred a small space and was still getting used to living a normal life so he wasn’t ready for another move just yet.

The part he always left out was that his dingy apartment came with an absolute angle that lived next door. Kind hearted. Sweet. An absolute darling. You were one of the first people he’d interacted with when he moved in. All the nerves he had about living alone and growing accustomed to a regular life melted away the first day, when you came over with a plate of fresh cookies.

He felt like a little boy whenever you were around, having the biggest crush on the prettiest girl on the playground, his mind going to mush whenever you smiled at him. But it wasn’t a crush. Nope. No....? No. He narrowed his eyes at himself before making his way to the door.

“Buck? Did your tongue rust-”

“I’ll uh-I’ll think about it” He mumbled before cutting the call, a bashful smile on his face as he unhooked the chain and swung the door open. “G’morning doll”

“Good Morning” You grinned, handing Bucky the plate which he gratefully accepted, his stomach rumbling between the butterflies that fluttered in his tummy. “I heard you get in last night, didn’t think you’d have time to do a grocery run or cook anything” You handed him a bag of fruits and vegetables, two of those bags full of plums. His favorite.

“You didn’t have to do all this” If his cheeks grew any warmer he would’ve sworn he was running a fever. And he didn’t get fevers.

“You’re out saving the world, I think getting you a few groceries is the least I could do. So, how’s the new Captain?” You had never met Sam in person but hearing enough stories from Bucky told you all you needed to know. No one else was better suited to take on the shield than him.

“A pain in my ass even if he means well” Bucky smiled shaking his head to himself. “He’s been pestering me to get out more...start dating” He mumbled the last part, wincing. He’d fought off aliens, gone to battle alongside a tree and a talking raccoon, survived being help captive by Hydra but being boyfriend material? His flirting game was as strong as pre serum Steve's right hook.

“Well, handsome solider like you, shouldn’t be too hard to find you a date” You felt your own face heat up as soon as the words left your mouth but wasn’t like it was a secret. There was no way he would have had trouble in the dating department; aside from being one of the most beautiful people you’d laid your eyes on he was also the sweetest. Bucky was nothing but a gentleman and with a pure and soft heart and if you didn’t get your shit together and control the way he made you weak in the knees-

“Not the same ladies man I was in the 40′s doll” He chuckled, blue eyes sparkling at your compliment, “Either way, I got myself into a mess with that” He smiled sheepishly while you cocked your head, urging him to continue.

��Well, I sort of lied to get him off my case” Bucky blushed, rubbing the back of his head, his the pink on his cheeks deepening at your cheeky smile. “I-I told him I already have a girlfriend but as you can see-” Bucky waved into his empty apartment that showed no signs of human life, “-it back fired immediately because he's invited my nonexistent girlfriend to a cookout this weekend. In Louisiana. With all his family. And friends”

Bucky let his head hit the wall with a dull thump, cursing himself for putting a foot in his mouth. Sure he could just come clean and say he lied. But that would mean admitting he lied and that was worse because then Sam would give him shit for that, plus try to get him out more and-

“What if- what if I went with you?” Bucky’s head shot up, blinking in surprise at your words, wondering if he heard you correctly. “I could pretend to be your girlfriend for a day, get Cap off your case. Only if you’re comfortable with it though”

“Really? You’d do that?” You giggled at his lost puppy expression, his eyes lighting up when he realized you were being serious.

“Of course” You smiled sincerely, “I’d be happy to! Just let me know what time to be ready at and I’ll be all yours”

All his.

The little boy in his was running around in circles, his heart beating too fast for the rest of his body to keep up. The thought of you being his girlfriend for a day was more than he could ever dream of. Of course it was only pretend and he’d wouldn’t dare push for more; not when you deserved the world. At the very least, he wouldn’t have to deal with Sam’s nagging.

Problem solved.

*****

This was a bad idea.

A bad, bad idea.

Bucky had gone through at least 4 outfits, debating between an array of Henley’s, before settling on a blue one when he remembered you complimented it because it was blue like his eyes. He picked up his razor and then immediately put it down when he remembered you once said you liked the scruff on him. Even if this was just pretend, every single part of him was on edge as if this were a real date. As soon as his enhanced hearing picked up your soft footsteps padding down the hall, he was right by the door, nervously chewing his lip.

Bucky blinked, his heart nearly giving way at 106 years old when he saw you make your way down the hall towards his apartment. You were in a flowery sundress, with a large cakebox in hand, your sweet perfume already making him dizzy. If Sam didn’t kill him for lying, the crush he had on you would be the next thing to take him out.

"You-you look beautiful" And sweet. And adorable. And delectable.

An angel.

You looked like an angel.

"Thank you, you look good too Sarge" You looked down at Bucky’s chest instead of meeting his eyes, unable to look at his pretty face. His adorable face. Handsome face. That dimple on his chin. Blue eyes. Pink lips. Fuck, you had such a big crush on him.

It was going to be an interesting day.

*****

Bucky parked the car at Sam’s place, which wasn’t too far from the lake where everyone had gathered. Part of him was almost sad they had made it on time; the car ride over with you ending faster than he’d liked.

“He wasn’t kidding when he said he only invited family” Bucky snorted, seeing all of Sam’s relatives there along with his closest neighbors, many of whom he’d met before. He took the cakebox from you, slipping his hand into yours, smiling when you gave him a reassuring squeeze. You both made your way over, hand in hand, your heart skipping a beat each time someone greeted Bucky, every single person over joyed that he’d finally met someone to call his.

He made his way over to the grill where Sam filliped a few burgers; the new Cap grinning when he saw you both. There was no missing the sparkle in his eyes when he looked down to your hand in Bucky’s, noting you were was holding his metal one, no longer covered by gloves.

Interesting.

“You’re lookin’ good” Sam wiggled his eyebrows at Bucky, loving the way the soldier rolled his eyes, trying to brush off the way his cheeks were dusted pink.

“This is y/n, my girlfriend” Girlfriend. Bucky loved the way it rolled off his tongue with ease, not feeling an ounce of hesitance. The word previously feeling so foreign to him now felt so natural when he had you by his side. And holding your hand. And hearing your laugh. And-

Relax Bucky, it’s just for a day.

“I’m Sam, and it’s very nice to meet you” He pulled you into a hug, still curiously eyeing Bucky, genuinely unable to figure out where he’d managed to find a sweetheart like you.

“Thank you for the invite” you giggled as he gave you a light squeeze before letting you go, inspecting the cakebox Bucky handed to him. He grinned at the fresh strawberries that decorated the cake, shamelessly plucking one off and popping it into his mouth. “Strawberry shortcake. A little white wolf told me it was your favorite”

“Well if the big bad wolf likes you then I like you cause he doesn’t like anybody. You must be special” Sam mused, a part of him wanting to be skeptical but there was nothing, absolutely nothing made up about the Bucky was looking at you. He gazed down at you as if you’d hung the moon and stars right in his room, an utterly lovesick puppy. You felt your cheeks heat up, burying your face into Bucky’s side while he chuckled, pulling you closer to him and pressing a kiss on top of your head. Damn right, she’s special.

You both made your way over to mingle with the rest of the crowd, have no trouble at all playing the role of an utterly in love boyfriend and girlfriend. Bucky didn’t miss a single chance to press little kisses on your cheeks, every so often pecking your nose. His hand never left your waist, always holding you close to him, his face occasionally buried into the crook of your neck.

You played your part almost better than he did, gushing over what a gentleman he always was to you, stayed tucked by his side, nuzzling under his chin, occasionally actually getting lost in his soft scent of laundry detergent, his cologne and something distinctly him. You made the elderly ladies giggle and blush each time Bucky did something adorable, proudly showing you off to everyone.

He didn’t even let you eat without being the most perfect doting boyfriend. You’d both served your plates, finding a nice spot to sit under a shady tree; Bucky sat on the large lawn chair, secretly happy there was only one. You were about to walk off to get another when he tugged your wrist and pulling you back.

“C’mere, I wont bite” Bucky grinned, surprised with himself as he pulled you onto his lap with ease. You let out a squeak, your nose bumping against his as you plopped onto him, lips nearly brushing his.

“Smooth, Barnes. Remind me again, how you don’t have a girlfriend” You let out a breathless laugh, screaming to yourself on the inside that this was fake. He was playing the role perfectly, that was all. So fucking perfectly.

Why was he so perfect.

Bucky smirked, kissing your shoulder, letting you relax against his chest, wondering if you’d feel his heart hammering against his ribcage from how flustered he actually was. He easily maneuvered you so you sat comfortably across his thighs, his arm still securely around your waist.

When was he ever this smooth.

If anyone else was this close, he’s run for the hills, but now he was contemplating tossing you over his shoulder and running to Sam’s house, the guest bedroom was upstairs and two doors to the right-

“Well I’ll be damned, he really does have a girlfriend” Sam shook his head while Joaquin snorted, both men looking at you and Bucky with heart eyes while they sipping their beers from the docks.

“You think they’re faking?” Joaquin nudged Sam’s shoulder, watching Bucky now fed you a piece of cake, still keeping you on his lap, sneakily kissing the cream from the corner off your lips between bites. You’d giggle every time, feeding him a strawberry, squealing when he’s playfully bite your fingers.

“You can fake a lot of things but not the way he’d blushing and giggling like a toddler in a candy store” Bucky played with your fingers, intertwining them with his hand, his nose scrunching as he laughed at something you said.

“It’s nice to see him like this” Joaquin had seen grumpy Bucky, grouchy Bucky, angry Bucky, scary Bucky, sleepy Bucky, just about every Bucky on the planet, but this? This was a first. Love struck Bucky. Charming Bucky. Happy Bucky. Simpy Bucky. Sappy Bucky. Giggly Bucky. Playful biting Bucky. Ready to get down on one knee if you’d let him, Bucky.

“Steve always said he was a charmer, he wasn’t lying”

They couldn’t take their eyes off the way the corner of Bucky’s eyes crinkled each time he smiled or the way you’d instinctively lean into him when he spoke. He’d tuck your hair away from your face, his hands lingering on your cheek for a second longer, giving them a glimpse of the man from the 40′s before the war, youthful and innocent, his heart full of hope, a smirk that would make his best girl swoon; the both of you in your own little world.

“He looks happy”

Sam had seen people look happy before. They’d smile but their eyes would be empty. They’d laugh but their voices were hollow. They’d look like they were on top of the world while sitting at rock bottom. The way Bucky’s eyes sparkled, his boyish laugh, the way he’d nuzzle into you, trying to be closer to you than physically possible, was more than just looking happy.

“He is happy”

Bucky had completely forgotten about pretending with you, lost in how perfectly you fit in his arms. You had taken up your role very seriously, telling him how utterly handsome he was, never missing moment to peck his scruffy cheek or card your fingers through his short soft locks. You intertwined you fingers with his vibrainium ones, busing your lips against his cool knuckles.

At some point in the afternoon, he’d slipped his jacket off and wrapped you up with it as evening crept around the corner. Not a single person doubted the nature of your relationship; at least four of Sam’s uncles had told Bucky to propose soon.

You don’t meet a girl who makes you this damn giggly just anywhere, Sergeant. Hold onto her.

****

Just when he thought he couldn’t fall for you more, you had fallen asleep in his arms, contently snuggled up in his jacket as the sunset over the lake. Most of Sam’s family had gone back home, a few close relatives still hanging around the boat, sipping on coffee. Bucky couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you, softly kissing your forehead; he could get used to this. Cuddling up with you after date nights. Hearing your laugh. The softness of your lips. The way your hand always found itself in his metal one without hesitation.

Fuck he wished this was real.

You stirred slightly, a content sigh slipping past your lips at the feel of his kiss. Nothing felt more comfy than being wrapped up by the super soldier, his solid arms holding you close. You didn’t want to wake up, wishing you could sleep forever if it meant you’d be this close to Bucky all the time. The day felt like a dream; the exact dreams you had when you thought about your sweet neighbor. How it’d be for him to call you yours. To Be his girl. To make him smile. To make him laugh.

If only it wasn’t just for a day.

“You have a nice nap, baby?” Bucky smirked as you blinked awake, stretching on his lap like a cat before snuggling against him again. “My pretty girl”

“Why wouldn’t I when my boyfriend is the comfiest spot to sleep on?” You teased, bringing your hand up to toy with the chain of his dog tags. Bucky chuckled, tilting your chin up to meet his eyes, kissing your nose. There was no one around you both, though neither of you seemed interesting in dropping the act just yet.

“You fit perfectly here, doll” He grinned, blushing when he hesitantly pulled you a little closer, your arms moving to wrap around his shoulders, resting on the back of his neck.

“I think I like it here” You sucked in a breath as he rested his forehead against yours, bringing his hand to cup your cheek. His nose gently bumped against yours, his warm breath tickling your lips.

“Me too” He closed the gap between you both, pressing his lips to yours sweetly, savoring every bit of your softness. He couldn’t help but deepen the kiss as you parted your mouth letting his tongue lace with yours while your hand made its way through his hair, tugging on his short locks. Bucky let out a groan, letting his hands drop to your waist, kissing you for as long as he could until you both needed oxygen.

“Maybe we can pretend for a little longer?” Bucky broke away, panting, his forehead still pressed against yours. You giggled between breaths, peppering kisses across his face.

“Just a little longer?”

“Maybe- maybe forever?” He looked at you with his classic puppy eyes, his heart bursting when you pulled him in for another kiss; forever. Forever sounded good.

A few years later

“So, you finally gonna admit I made this happen?” Sam whispered while Bucky snorted, shaking his head.

“Not gonna happen”

“C’mon, I made this happen, I caused this”

“You caused chaos”

Sam scoffed in fake offence, taking a sleepy Becca from Bucky’s arms while the soldier went to go check on you. “Now when do I get to meet my second God child?”

“In a few hours” Bucky stretched before making his way back to your room, smiling at your resting form. He carefully laid down beside you, letting his hand splay across your tummy; in just a few more hours there would be a little Samuel Grant Barnes in the world.

“We’re really good at pretending” You murmured, make Bucky chuckle, taking your hand in his and kissing the ring that sat on your finger.

“Maybe just one more baby after this? Really convince them, Mrs. Barnes?”

“Uncle Sam, tell me a bedtime story?” Becca pouted, having been at the hospital for hours, giving Sam the exact same face Bucky gave you. Her little bottom lip jutting out, big (y/c/e) eyes blinking up at him. He grinned, settling her on his lap before he made a thinking face before asking what she’d want to hear.

“What kinda story, Beccs, an animal story, a super cool falcon story or Captain America story or a flying Falcon Captain America story?”

“The chaos daddy said you caused” She giggled while Sam nodded, taking a deep breath before starting.

“It all started when your daddy said he had a girlfriend...”

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max1461 · 4 months ago

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Other people want the world as a whole to "mean something" or "be about something" and I just don't. That's so terribly constricting, so suffocating. I'm much more inclined to positive nihilism.

I'm reading about LotR lore lately, and I really like LotR, but all the Christianity in it distresses me. Why must the world be governed by Eru Ilúvatar's infallible and undefeatable master plan? Doesn't that take out all the stakes? More importantly: part of what I like about LotR is its valorization of the small and the ordinary, as represented in the hobbits but also in, you know, Tolkien's proclivity to spend more time talking about potatoes than he needs to, and whatnot. There's a valorization of the small over the grandiose. It's like, finding dignity in the ordinary or something, that feels like a big part of Tolkien's project, and I'm deeply sympathetic to that. But then he has to go and add, you know, an omnipotent and omnibenevolent creator and omnimalevolent enemy (Melkor, not Sauron) and like...

First of all I hate the combination of omnipotence and omnibenevolence, it just doesn't work in any kind of narrative, it doesn't work in Christianity either, it's just *so* having your cake and eating it too. Like, Christianity itself has something of a "valorization of the small" going on but it also fails there, because (people have already said all these things) Jesus isn't actually just some guy, he's actually god the all-powerful and infallible lord of the universe! And he doesn't even really suffer or debase himself except temporarily, he ascends to heaven in the end, whereas sinners are sent to hell to suffer permanently for their imperfections. And "the meek will inherit the earth" by submitting to God and doing everything he says!

Not really valorizing the small there IMO.

Anyway Christianity doesn't succeed at this but the thing about Tolkien is he gets so close. When he says stuff (this is from one of his letters apparently, I quoted it the other day) like

It had been Sauron’s virtue (and therefore also the cause of his fall, and of his relapse) that he loved order and coordination, and disliked all confusion and wasteful friction… it was the creatures of the earth, in their minds and wills, that he desired to dominate.

I'm like, yeah! I'm with you bro! But then there's the whole thing about, well, Eru Ilúvatar's creation was perfect until Melkor's discordant singing marred it, and now it's imperfect and that's the source of all evil, but it's also fine because Eru's vision is bound to win out in the end, it's like... you're undercutting your whole thing! Eru is doing what Sauron wants to do, it's just that he's winning at it. Maybe the point is that Eru permits free will, or something, while Sauron doesn't. But this still seems weak in light of the whole "Melkor as the origin of imperfection" thing. You can't valorize the small and the ordinary without being comfortable with imperfection. You can't make a story where imperfection is Inherently Evil, as it seems to quite literally be in Tolkien's cosmology, and have it land for me as a critique of lust for power. Like. What do people even want to do with power except Eliminate All The Imperfections? Obviously some just want to enrich themselves, but I think Tolkien's opposition to power-seeking plainly runs a lot deeper than just opposition to self-interested power-seeking, which is

what I like about it, and

why this incongruity is so frustrating.

Anyway, there's that Scott Alexander post, Heuristics that Almost Always Work. I agree with the thesis of the post as such, but there's this line in it that perfectly articulates the reason rationalism tends to alienate me:

The Futurist He comments on the latest breathless press releases from tech companies. This will change everything! say the press releases. “No it won’t”, he comments. This is the greatest invention ever to exist! say the press releases. “It’s a scam,” he says. Whatever upheaval is predicted, he denies it. Soon we’ll all have flying cars! “Our cars will remain earthbound as always”. Soon we’ll all use cryptocurrency! “We’ll continue using dollars and Visa cards, just like before.” We’re collapsing into dictatorship! “No, we’ll be the same boring oligarchic pseudo-democracy we are now” A new utopian age of citizen governance will flourish. “You’re drunk, go back to bed.” When all the Brier scores are calculated and all the Bayes points added up, he is the best futurist of all. Everyone else occasionally gets bamboozled by some scam or hype train, but he never does. His heuristic is truly superb. But - say it with me - he could be profitably replaced with a rock. “NOTHING EVER CHANGES OR IS INTERESTING”, says the rock, in letters chiseled into its surface. Why hire a squishy drooling human being, when this beautiful glittering rock is right there?

Bolding in the final paragraph mine.

"Nothing ever happens or is interesting". Really? Is that what the skeptical futurist is saying? Certainly he's saying "nothing ever happens", that I'll grant. But he's not saying "nothing is ever interesting". You added that, Scott, because to be interested you need something Big to happen. You are not filled with love for the small and ordinary, it is just wasted time and wasted space to you.

I do not particularly like the Big, at least not most of the time. I like the small quite a lot. And, contrary to their names, I think most of the world is small. The world is made of lots of small things, not a couple big things. And I often feel that the small is the only thing that's actually real, the big tends to be illusory. As a small creature it is other small things that affect me most and matter most to me, it is my small dealings with other small creatures that are subjectively the biggest. And the various grand narratives of history, if they exist, only affect me in a diffuse and nonspecific way and are in all their specifics born out in small things.

I am very much a partisan of ordinary things, ordinary dealings, of our daily lives and our individual relationships and perhaps ephemeral but deeply felt emotions as the actual source of value in the world, from which Big things insofar as they matter at all derive their importance. And, aesthetically I suppose, I am also a defender of the inherent dignity of small things and cast-aside things (a different but closely related category). And there are close connections between the small and the vast (which is not the same as Big), and. Well, take my uquiz. But anyway.

#navel gazing

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ssavaart · 11 months ago

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My Gothic Vampire painting and the inks.

Watercolors and Inks on 11x20 inch Arches Hot Press Paper

The painting came about by doing thumbnails during a live on Youtube and we were talking about the different ways this lovely photo by Grimilde Malatesta could be used to tell different stories based on the aspect ratio and composition.

Something about the bookshelf one in the middle stuck with me... and I decided to explore it more.

I get SO much of my inspiration from other artists. I love that artists from all over the world can share their art and, in doing so, inspire other art.

You can see more of Grimilde's beautiful dress designs and photography here

https://www.instagram.com/grimildemalatesta/

Sending Big Hugs from the Hobbit Hole. ♥♥♥

Scott

PS. Yes. I got permission and paid for the rights to use her art for my painting. Artists should always be credited and paid if possible.

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edges-of-night · 1 year ago

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hi! i found your blog yesterday and i’m obsessed! i was wondering if you could do one where in Y/N’s culture give someone a hand-crafted object (like a wood carving), it’s a way of confessing without actually saying that they like that person, but only Gandolf and Aragorn know since they have traveled all around Middle Earth! Thanks so much for your time!

Thank you, I’m glad you like this blog! I hope you’ll enjoy your post!

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

Indeed, Aragorn knows exactly what you mean when you gift him the wooden amulet you crafted over the past few days. He smiles fondly, aware of what this means for you. He’d take it the exact same way as he would a verbal love confession, takes your hands in his and gives you a kiss ♡ He'd also ask you about the exact cultural implications of the symbols you used etc.!

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

Arwen has been kind to you ever since you started your work as a blacksmith in Rivendell. She is very impressed with your work and you soon start to fall for her. When her favourite bracelet breaks one day, you see your chance to use your newly-learned skills of Elven craftmanship to make her a new one. Though part of you wished she understood your gift’s meaning, Arwen’s unknowing reaction makes you just as happy: she’s beaming with joy and giving you a tight hug!

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir spends days wracking his brains about the hand-crafted sheath you made for him. Every time he turns it in his hands, he can feel the energy and affection you poured into his gift. Still, its true meaning stays a mystery to him… until one day, he’d not-so-casually ask you, “It doesn’t carry a deeper meaning, does it?”

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

The day Elrond finds the artful bookmark you crafted for him on his table, wrapped in a gorgeous leaf, he starts researching your culture. He faintly remembers hearing of love customs from your home region but thinks this couldn’t be possibly true! After a whole day of reading, he’d ask you for a conversation and talks about it to you, always respecting your culture’s habit of not outright stating your feelings. He’d be very understanding.

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

Éomer is convinced that the little horse figurine you carved out of the most gorgeous walnut wood is a present you gave him out of fascination and respect for Rohirrim culture. While he is happy about the kind gesture, he is entirely oblivious to its meaning. So one day, when you absolutely couldn’t take it anymore, you’d had to take him aside and break your culture’s customs – because otherwise, this man wouldn’t get it!

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

While Éowyn may be unaware of your culture’s custom, she does recognise how much gifting her handcrafted objects means to you. So, she soon starts making something for you in return – albeit clumsily – but still you can’t help but swoon! You start to develop a playful gift exchange that Éowyn partakes in so lovingly that in the end, it doesn’t really matter that she didn’t know of your specific custom. Since you get together anyway, you can just tell her afterwards!

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

Whatever you craft for Faramir, be it a bookmark, a tool, or a piece of jewellery – he’d treasure it religiously. Maybe he’d even build a shrine around it, hidden away in his quarters, where he’d sit down and think of you. Imagine his shock when he learns (possibly through Gandalf) of your gift’s true meaning – the poor man would blush like a sunrise, unable to speak to you for the next few days. He is ashamed of his perceived ignorance toward you and overwhelms you with the most romantic love confession in return!

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Frodo would be very casual about the notebook you crafted for him. He uses it as his journal, for flower pressing, and recipes. Everybody keeps asking about the gorgeous binding and covers, and he always redirects everyone to you with great pride. He is glad that your crafting skills finally find recognition in the Shire. However, since you only craft for those you love, you always have to send the other Hobbits away, until one day you admit to Frodo the truth behind your gift, which he takes with great joy.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Galadriel is convinced that the ring you made for her carries a deeper meaning, she just can’t quite put her finger on it, with you being so mysterious. It intrigues her, since usually everyone is an open book to her. When she asks you anew about your gift, you can’t help but give in to her warm telepathic voice, and confess your feelings to her. She’d light up with joy – “What a wonderful gift! The most precious anyone has to give!”

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

For Gandalf, you’d craft a new staff or wand. You don’t expect much when you gift it to him, so his sudden attention comes as a surprise to you: “You said you’ve made this yourself? It is an artful present…” His soft, loving glance would instantly tell you he understood. You share a blissful laugh, before he would deny any knowledge about your culture.

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

You’d gift Gimli a precious stone or gem you found in the mines, having perfected it into a shape that’s perfect for his collection. When you gift it to him, his reaction puzzles you though: “No gem in this world is more precious than your presence in my life…” He wanted to confess to you too – what impeccable timing!

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir is the worst person to make gifts for – while he trains his face not to show it, his confusion is still very much readable to you, now that you know him. The archery gloves you made for him are stored away deep in his travel bag, never to be seen again. It’s not until Aragorn secretly informs him of your region’s customs that Haldir finally understands your gesture – which leaves him even more irritated...! He is considerate enough to say “thank you” at least, with a timid kiss ♡

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Legolas would be thrilled that you made him an arrow, not meant for battle but prestigious decoration. The affection and care you poured into your hand-crafted gift do not escape his sharp attention, whenever he touches the glistening arrow and turns it in his hands. Intrigued by these feelings, he starts ‘investigating’ – meaning he teases you about a possible crush. He’d only stop when he sees how important this topic is too you, which is when he finally understands.

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

For Merry, you’d craft a new pipe. He is excited about your gift but oblivious to the deeper meaning behind it. That said, his sharp attention does catch your slight blush when you give it to him. It makes him think – and after days and days of pondering, he starts a courting offensive on his own, until the day you finally get together!

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

The wood carving you’d gift Pippin is originally meant for decoration, but he carries it around his neck as an amulet. He proudly tells everyone who made it – and knowing how close the two of you are, it doesn’t take a genius to understand your gift’s true meaning. The situation would eventually solve by Pippin telling you, completely confused: “I thought we already were an item?! Of course I love you too!”

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Out of all the Middle-Earth characters, Sam probably appreciates handcrafting and artisanship the most, being a craftsman himself. His reaction to your wood carving of a sunflower is appropriately flustered: “This must’ve taken quite some time to make, I’d say. Turned out so beautiful, too. Not that I expected anythin’ else from you! You are very skilled in many areas, after all…” His beautiful little speech charms you so much that you end up confessing your love unconventionally! Be it verbally or with a surprise kiss ♡

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itsonlydana · 5 months ago

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Hi, I could not find your rules for writing, but if I may request some smut/fluff *Thranduil x reader*. You can imagine this scenario; the tranduil and reader are playing this kind of game: do or drink, and how they are playing, they have various tasks,some are funny, some are more s€xual... they are kind of sassy and playful, and they are teasing eachother (because none of them want to lose), and after that they will do what have to be done (yk what I mean). If you are not comfortable or I over-crossed your rules, than you can ignore this ♥︎. Thank you for your beautiful writings, cant wait for another !

Drinks and Dares | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

Boredom leads Thranduil to ask you to play a game that either end in far too many secrets spilled or far too much wine drank. When you agreed you wouldn't have thought the evening to end like this!

tags/warnings: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️, smut, oral sex (fem), fingering, pet names, slight intoxication on wine (they literally played a drinking game, it's all consensual), Thranduil gets off on reader wearing his crown

word count: 4,5k

an: this turned out to be much filthier and longer than I expected or planned but here you go! I'm getting much more comfortable writing smut though it's still not at a level where I could say: yeah i know what I'm doing so forgive me if it feels a bit "clunky"

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The truth was, you shouldn't have agreed to play a game with Thranduil.

As his most trusted guard ever since he was crowned and daresay friend for the past two millennials you should have known better than to assist him in his mischief because you knew, you knew, that nothing good ever came to his bored ingenious mind and once again you were proven to be right in that initial judgment you had ignored again, and look where that led you:

Sitting cross-legged in his private chambers and staring up as Thranduil elegantly made out with his own reflection in the tall mirror.

It was one of the more…audacious dares of the evening because you see, Thranduil's idea of entertainment was, of course, combining drinking with luring out a side of you that you, on a normal day-to-day basis, hid behind the honorable task of accompanying your Majesty. Normally you would never allow it to be this carefree, to not bother checking your surroundings – or tongue, a far worse opportunity to slip up. Thranduil could protect himself very much without any help though he liked to keep you around for comfort, but your tongue?

No, there were far too many secret desires that needed to be pushed down with the utmost care.

This concentration and focus were however nowhere to be seen after you had agreed to fool around with Thranduil's infinite supply of wine that never seemed to become less, despite the amount you drank.

The dares became less light-hearted the more wine flowed. Sneaking around the servants' hall to steal Feren's comb changed into you having to yell out the first word that came to your mind when you thought of Thranduil (the bastard had you scream 'so fucking sensual' before you both collapsed into giggles). The dares you gave Thranduil changed quite drastically as well, going from tame things like telling whoever he hated the most on the council (Thorin was the only answer and that was nothing he kept to himself) to.. well – kissing himself in the mirror.

From your point, you saw how his eyes were closed and his lips opened, smooched against the fogged-up crystal as his tongue sensually licked up a bit of spit he left. While his breath clouded the sight, you held yours in an effort to capture the smallest of noises like the soft moans that slipped out of him.

You heard and saw him press a wet kiss, a last shorter one, nothing more than a quick peck, against his reflection before his eyes snapped open to meet yours and you hoped he mistook the dilution in your pupils for the wine you held cradled in your lap and not for the pure arousal that cursed through your bloodstream and pumped straight to your core. He smirked, sharp at the edges of his with spit glittering mouth. He wasn't stupid.

"So," you cleared your throat and leaned back on one hand, lifting the other to sip on your wine, "Your turn."

"Mhm yes." Thranduil lowered himself back on the chaise longue and tugged a leg under himself. He wrapped his long fingers around the chalice to click his nails against the gold; the beat echoing deep with the throbbing between your legs. "You shall do the same as me."

"What?" you huffed, "Kiss the mirror?"

He nodded.

Your eyebrows drew together in a frown, "You can't just give me the same task! That's not how this works, Your Majesty–"

"Then drink," Thranduil said unbothered by your nagging, "That is how the game works. You do," he paused and tipped his chalice into your direction, smirking, "or you drink."

Playing games like this led to far too many secrets spilled and far too much skin revealed, evidenced by the state of undress you're both in.

Your armor had been placed by the door long ago, leaving you in a simple tunic and leggings that had grown uncomfortably warm by now. Thranduil too had rid himself of all the fancy robes and was left lounging in far too few layers for anyone else to see him. You saw the pale skin of his throat all the way down to a muscular chest revealed by a loose satin tunic and noticed every twitch of his legs confined in very, so very tight sitting, breeches.

You glared at him and gripped your own chalice tighter, tempted to just down it all and give him another dare that his ego would not easily allow to give up on but it has been a long evening and most of your thoughts are still hung up on the imagery of Thranduil pressed against his own reflection, hand splayed wide against condensation of his own hot breath.

Standing up quickly your head spun a few rounds didn't stop you from marching up to the mirror, swaying a bit to the left before reaching it. Thranduil watched you, his eyes locked onto yours and even if he may wanted to seem casual, leaning back into the cushions, his bobbing throat betrayed the image of unaffectedness he was trying to portray.

You told yourself it was the wine in your system that made you stand up on your naked tiptoes to reach the spot where Thranduil's breath had left an imprint of his mouth and, shaking just slightly, your mouth crushed against the warmed glass; right where he had been.

You tasted spit and wine and metal.

It was not at all what you had expected and at first, there was awkwardness to kissing a smooth surface that didn't reciprocate your movements until you heard a choked-up sound behind you. Thranduil's noise fueled you on and remembering what he had done, you opened your lips, allowing your tongue to draw a suggestively figure-eight.

Another gasp, this time it was your own at the lack of oxygen that would have taken you down had you not drawn back. By now the alcohol muddled your brain completely, making it impossible to stand still and not sway again. Heat pooled in your cheeks and down lower between your legs, and you were sure they were as red as they felt; flushed by this indecent behavior that only he could provoke in you because who were you but a fool in love?

"See, this was not very hard, was it?" Thranduil laughed huskily.

"Still a stupid dare," you bit and sat down again, glad that your knees didn't give up halfway across the room as they threatened to do. As a trained warrior, a good one at that, you may say so yourself, you should be able to control yourself better. It was truly pathetic how the scratch of Thranduil's voice combined with the heat that threatened to suffocate the room left your hands shaking and your knees wobbling. When the world tipped slightly, you gave in, falling onto your back to watch the ceiling spin.

"Okay," your eyes followed the roots that curved through the stone. They had been there long before you built the halls around them though now they were intertwined in the very ground that held you all together. "You, um, you have to drink or–" You grasped at whatever coherent thought was left in the puddle of brain that swooshed inside your head. A girlish giggle left you as a most improper idea manifested, its origin that one fantasy you had for decades now, never more than a secret you only dared to think about in the most lonely times.

"Or?" Thranduil inquired. He sounded very amused and if you looked half as funny and flushed as you felt, you understood why.

"Or," your head lolled to the side, taking in his long body splayed across the chaise longue watching you with a look in his eyes that had heart feathering, fluttering like a bird's wings, "I'm allowed to wear your crown."

A beat of silence.

Thranduil's eyebrows slowly wandered up on his forehead, creating the perfect arch to capture his short moment of confusion before his mouth followed. Just when you thought now you'd done it and fucked up his lips curved into a smirk and you hoped, begged, lusted after his agreement; you wouldn't survive a denial.

Not now, not with heat curling hot inside your stomach.

You wouldn't say the atmosphere changed, not particularly; there had been an underlying tension ever since you both had freed yourself from the constricting robes and armors and pretended not to stare at each bit of skin revealed, but there certainly was a shift to what was already there: hunger.

Starvation in the form of wide eyes and quick intakes of breath, your body screaming for him and you scrambling toward Thranduil, as he slowly petted the empty space next to him.

"Sit," his voice commanded, and ever the dutiful admirer of His Majesty you sat up straight and placed your legs in a perfect angle in front of you instead of following his example and tucking them under your body. Thranduil unfolded them gracefully. He kept his eyes trained on you and you had no problems staring right back. "I must say, you are awfully brave to ask me for my crown," Thranduil said as he stood up and thus forced you to crane your neck.

"To be precise," you started, without a care in the world this would be most daring as well, if not borderline stupid and ignorant, "I did not ask for it." Thranduil's eyebrows wandered up again. You didn't shrink under his gaze but rather challenged it.

"Do you call your king a liar?"

You lifted your chin higher, tilting it slightly in thought. There were many answers to his question, varying greatly on the specter of what one would deem inappropriate, and all of them lay on the tip of your tongue.

You settled on one of them with a soft smile on your lips that could be perceived as dreamy. "I do not call my king a liar," you waited until Thranduil thought this to be your final answer until that satisfied smirk of him thinking he had won another round appeared on his beautiful face, and then you continued: "There are rules to this game and so I didn't ask for your crown, I dared you to let me wear it. It's entirely in your hands to either accept the dare or you must drink." The last part you said slowly, not rushing out the words that fueled Thranduil's smirk further on just as you had predicted it would happen if you showed finesse in your answer and not gave into his power-plays.

"So it seems," Thranduil said. He reached for the crown on his head, the oak sticks, lush with moss and green foliage that sprouted a colorful array of yellow buttercups, pink foxglove, fiery-red poppies, and blueish-purple tufted vetches for summer had come, and weighted it in his hands.

He lowered it slowly, taking his time to take in every little breath you took, the rapid rising and falling of your chest that had Thranduil's special attention. When you felt the crown parting your hair, had the twigs press against the sensitive skin behind your ear, and were completely engulfed in the oh-so-sweet but heavy floral scent, all rational thinking left you with a breathy moan.

There was control, and dominance in the crown, in all that it stood for and now you wore it, still physically beneath Thranduil but that too changed the moment your lashes fluttered looking up at him, intoxicated on wine, power, and the knowledge to be the only other person that ever had the privilege of this.

"Valar, look at you," Thranduil rasped, darkness blew his pupils wide and his hands fell to cup your neck into their large palms. Fingertips pressed against your fluttering pulse and you automatically, even though you had never allowed any Ellon to touch this delicate part, leaned into it.

"And? How do I look?" you asked and gasped as his nails scratched over your neck.

Thranduil's grip on your neck nudged your head back further. He leaned down, loose hair like a waterfall out of starlight and if the hunger in his eyes was anything to go by, he was burning up just like you.

When he spoke, it was a low tide rolling over coarse sand: "Majestic." His thumbs were under your chin, hindering it from dropping at the word though he felt the whimper bubbling up inside you where his fingers laid claim on your throat. "My turn," he said.

For a brief second, you didn't know what he was talking about, all that went through your head was that this, you sitting in his crown with him standing in front of you, was worth all the pining of a millennial.

"You will address me by my given name, not by my title."

"What?" Your tongue flicked out to wetten your lips.

"I –," Thranduil's thumb wandered the same path that your tongue had, "dare you –," he pulled your lower lip back, revealing your open-in-wonder-gaze, "to call me by my name while I worship you in a manner deserving for a Queen."

Your heart stopped and were it not for the tension tying you down, you would have stumbled away. "Queen? Your Maj–"

"Silence!" Dark eyebrows furrowed in on themselves. Thranduil's hands trailed down your neck, over your chest bone and heaving breasts, nails tugging on the cord that kept everything together as it should, and effortlessly, one flick of his hand snapped the knot open – revealing the frantic breaths that moved your body. He sank to his knees, spreading open his legs to sit down on his heels.

"My Ki–"

This time you stopped yourself, biting down on your lip to keep the word back that felt like a lie with the crown adorning you and instead doing nothing but stare at your King, because that was who he was in the end, Thranduil, Great Elvenking, Son of Oropher and Leader of the Woodland Elves, pulling on your leggings and removing the last part of clothing that had hidden your arousal.

"You started this, little one," Thranduil murmured as he nudged his nose against your thighs, his lips only centimeters away from your skin. His eyes flickered to you, "you will forgive me if I finish it."

"Oh, you don't have to do that"

"Why not? Who are you to deny a King a wish most truthfully coming from his heart?" There was a taunting tone in his voice. "

"I am nothing but a mere guard, Thranduil," his name slipped your tongue more easily now that he was kneeling in front of your dripping sex and a certain shyness fell over you, "There are far different ellens deserving of this– of your touch"

"You have taken care of me for many years, far more than I can count," he said lowly and softly, while his hands brushed over the subtle curves of your naked legs, dipped into the bent of your knees to coax them open, "Let me be the one to care for you now."

His lips left a wet trail of kisses up your thighs, hot and open-mouthed and you were whimpering even before he sealed them over your throbbing clit and flicked his tongue over it. A whimper became a gasp, a broken one at that because Thranduil wasted no time teasing you but rather dived right into slightly open his jaw and using the flat length of his tongue, he licked through your lips in such a manner the obscene sound echoed through the entire chamber.

Your hands flew to his head to bury them in the soft strands of his hair and you wrapped them around your fingers for a better hold. Not that that was necessary, the way Thranduil lapped at you showed no sign that he ever wanted to be anywhere else than between your legs.

His tongue moved through you swiftly, the talent of the wide enough to cover all of you, yet precise technique to flick against your clit again and again on his route brought a blazing hot pleasure to you that quickly dissolved all the muscles you had used to stay upright.

Thranduil moaned against you, and through the mess that you had made of his hair, ruffled all across his forehead, you saw his eyes roll back into his head, and when his luscious lashes brushed your pelvic bone just as he heaved your legs over his shoulders to practically hold you up, your back arched beautifully and all that remained were your arms and shoulders that got burned by the fabric, the coil inside you snapped and all you could do was follow his orders to scream his name.

In a flash, you went from practically elevating in the air to being pinned into the chaise lounge, Thranduil's broad body covering you easily. Long agile fingers stayed where his tongue had been, two spreading you open and the middle one slipping right into you thanks to the mixture of spit and your cum that he had graciously left there.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked through gritted teeth and you felt him grind his own affection into you. There was certainly a heavy weight against your shaking thighs and you moaned at the loss of not having him inside you yet. Thranduil grinned, and you felt it on his lips kissing your neck and jaw. "You did," he chuckled breathlessly, "You sat there all evening, letting this game continue as your pretty head thought of a way to fulfill these filthy– filthy fantasies."

You clenched around his finger at his words and the low timbre he used to speak them directly into your ear. One of his rings, cold despite the heat that surrounded you both, met your clit and your hips flew up but were stopped by his body caging you in.

"Tell me," Thranduil opened his mouth and teeth grazed over your ear; you were keening instantly, dripping more than you have ever had in all the nights you pretended your own fingers were his though now you knew they would never come close to the actual thing, "What came next in your fantasies?"

"Preferably me," you whined.

It brought a full laugh out of him, heartily and so not at all fitting for the situation you were in but that lifted some of the stressful tension, leaving more room for playfulness that had been far back in your head out of the need to preserve every second, afraid this was just the wine playing tricks on you.

His heavy yet perfect weight was a pressing reminder this was not at all an image your mind had conjured.

"Is that a dare?"

Damn him, you thought. He was still keeping up this forsaken game.

You raised your hands, missing your goal the first time at a loss of focus he robbed you of with a second finger fucking into you. The next time you tried you managed to wrap your arms around his neck and grab some of his tresses.

"My King," you watched his pupils blacken out even further, taking away most of the calm blues and grays, "I dare you to respect the crown." Thranduil let out a throaty groan, almost as if he was tortured. You smiled, however much you could while his fingers scissored you open.

"I dare you to fuck me like there's royal blood in me."

He hooked his fingers, dragging the tips over a rough patch inside you that had you keening and stumbling over whimpers and gasps that slipped out of you faster than you could catch your breath. His mouth latched on to your neck again, sucking a bit of the soft skin into his mouth only to soothe the spot his teeth had nibbled on a moment later in a wet apology. The thought of a bruise in the shape of his canine is exhilarating, doused by the wine that left its hot film over all that's happening.

"Such vulgar language," Thranduil mocked and, to your absolute disagreement, pulled out his fingers. His hand once again found your thigh, wet and glistening with the essence that he left on your skin, as his other hand made quick work of his breeches, somehow, gracefully pulling them off and flinging them somewhere across the floor through where it landed was not at all were your attention fell to but rather the impressive size of him.

He always had been muscular and well-formed for an Ellon, not that he lacked in elegance for that, but you had noticed his shoulders were broader, his chest defined yet slender and naturally one couldn't forget about his height. It was as if the stars had conspired to ensure that he would stand out in every way and exceed all expectations.

Eager to get his cock inside you you wiggled your hips, chasing after anything that could bring you closer to your goal.

The only result you got was Thranduil's fingers coming down to pinch your clit as he clicked his tongue. His dark eyebrows raised in admonition. "It seems you require a lesson in behavior fitting a Queen. This impatience must be lost at once!"

Faster than you could react he flipped you over, large hands effortlessly handling you to face the cushions, knees spread wide and your dripping cunt exposed to him. Your legs nearly slipped of the sides, bringing out a squeal of surprise. "Thranduil!" you laughed and turned your head.

As soon as looked over your shoulder and saw his flat hand palming your cheek, spreading you open while his other hand fisted his hard cock, all teasing became unnecessary. Thranduil let a drop of spit fall onto his hand which he used to lube himself up.

"A loyal subservient must always be on his Queen's side," he said and his hips twitched into his hand, "I will swear my allegiance to you from behind you."

Bright blue yet lust-clouded eyes stared at you and his smirk sent shivers down your spine; all for him to see. You felt his cock nudge against you, the tip alone larger than expected and you gasped. It became harder to keep your head where you could watch his face contort, to see his jaw slacken at your tight heat, and you pressed your chin against your shoulder in need of support.

Every inch that breached you burned most deliciously and even now, most of his cock was still for you to see, he had imprinted itself to be the only Ellon who would ever fill you this perfectly. You want to howl at the burning pleasure that sparked up your spine, a glimmer of hot fire licking through your middle, and need buried its claws in your tender flesh.

He pushed into you completely, slipping right in due to his extensive preparations and the surreal amount of wetness that surely dripped onto the expensive fabric of the chaise lounge that burned where your knees dug into it. The moan he tore out of you at the intrusion vibrated through you wholly. You screamed in ecstasy, spiraled into an endless pit, and your head dropped down not unlike a puppet that had its strings snapped, however, yours were strung tighter. You felt your cunt blink around him as you accommodated the heft of him.

Thranduil moaned, grunted, and exhaled heavily throughout the whole slow push until his cock sat deep inside you and his sharp hips met your ass. His hand there gripped you harshly enough for it to probably leave bruises in the shape of his fingers and moons of his nails, and the fluttering of your walls around his length did not help in him loosening the grip.

"Devine," he groaned lowly, "Oh, how I have imagined how you would feel stretched around me." Huh? "This sweet, sweet cunt plagued me for far too long for me to act upon it only now," he continued and rolled his hips against yours. It drove his cock deeper, meeting a spot that had you seeing stars and made it impossible to answer to his admissions, which only continued.

"The many ways I thought about your body beneath mine, your pretty lips sucking me off during these unbearable meetings."

A hand wrapped around your chin, nudging your head away from the pillow you had used to stifle your moans, fabric lint dry on your tongue, and imprints of your teeth left behind, and as Thranduil pulled out of you, leaving just his tip in to stretch you, he turned your head back at him again. Long fingers stroked over your temple, pinched your cheeks together to draw your mouth into a pucker and you followed the silent instructions of sucking his pointer into it.

Thranduil leaned down, his chest covering your back completely, you whined at the loss of the inch of cock this movement brought forth, then his lips were peppering kisses to your ear. "You dared me to fuck you like royalty?" he asked and you frantically nodded. Thranduil's teeth flashed at his wide smirk. "Then you better take all that I have to offer"

One smooth thrust, your moan echoing loudly, a wet squelch far too obscene, and Thranduil set a rhythm that had you rely on his arm that wrapped around your middle for any hold on reality. Your hands clawed at the chaise lounge, nails ripping apart seams to ground yourself against the punishing pace with which his cock drove itself home, carved a space for the massive length and width, and the sounds you made only fueled Thranduil on.

"Look at you," he gasped, "taking me so well."

The praise washed over you with such a crushing weight.

Days, Weeks, Years, Decades, Millenniums. All the time that had passed. You thought you would wait forever for a compliment as meaningful as this, to hear his appreciation and now.. oh he thought you to worthy enough to take him, to take all of him.

Tears pooled in your eyes, dripping slowly and falling down at the brutal pace used to hammer his cock into you, deeper, further, more and more until you thought it punched a way through your stomach up into your throat because all that you felt, all that you were, was a snug fit, taking him so well.

"Thran.. Thranduil–" you whined and the strings in your gut tightened. "Please," you begged, for all, for nothing, for him. He alone held you over that edge you barreled towards, he alone would be able to push you over into an abyss of the ever-growing pleasure.

"Cum," he ordered, voice strained and by the frantic rhythm of his thrusts you thought he was reaching a limit as well, "Let me feel you cum once more. I dare you!"

You wailed, another sound mixing into the slapping of skin, the shortened breaths and the grunts, the loud pounding of the blood inside your ears until his fingers dropped down to your clit, pinching it again through the slick that pooled there, lightening up yet another nerve ending and you screamed as hot white blinding pleasure exploded and engulfed you. It shot through your limps, branched to every last cell in your body, and filled all thoughts. Even your own heartbeat became an echo of his cock.

Stars

A sea of twinkling lights, burning up in front of your eyes as you screamed your release, your whole body twitching and at the same time pressing back into Thranduil's hips.

You wanted to see him unravel, to come undone and this egoistical part of you fed on the thought of being the one who breaks the Elvenking but when his hips stuttered one last time and you felt his release coating your twitching insides, Thranduil was just as electrifyingly and unfairly beautiful.

Cold metal brushed against your lips and you blinked dazed.

"Drink," Thranduil had grabbed the abandoned chalice and held it to your panting mouth, ignoring the drool that wettened the corner of it.

"But–," you mumbled and a dreamy, fucked-out smile spread in your face, "I haven't even heard the dare yet."

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