#with Him

[sceletaflores]

he’s so silly i want to suck his dick so hard his stomach caves in like a juice box.

[randommultifandomrants]

Sam Winchester.

That’s it that’s the post

[mochi-marmalade]

The Love of the Princess

a/n: i stayed up until 2am writing this :') possibly one of my favorite works i've written?? the title is from a song i listened to while writing, very dreamy vibes. NOT proofread, might proofread later. BIG thankies to @lillisummers for the inspiration!! reader is the daughter of elrond & celebrían :)

Legolas x female elf reader

3.8k words

warnings: none i think....

“My dear, you look wonderful.” Lord Elrond, says as he places a gleaming silver circlet on your head. “Thank you, father.” You reply, smiling. Truthfully, you are hesitant and unsure of what the future holds for you. Soon you will be traveling to Mirkwood to meet your betrothed, away from your family and the place you have called home your entire life. 

A short time ago, your father brought you on business for a diplomatic meeting with King Thranduil. While there, you slipped away to explore. Though you had been in forests before, Mirkwood had a certain air about it, veiled in mystique. “You,” A voice cut through the silence. “I have not seen you before.” You turn around and come face to face with a pale elf. He is fair as the moon and moves nimbly as he walks towards you. “I am the Lady of Rivendell, daughter of Lord Elrond.” He looks you up and down, then slowly nods. “Where is your father?”

“He is… Meeting with King Thranduil.”

The blond elf cocks an eyebrow, wondering aloud, “Should you not join him?”

“I am on my own business to meet handsome strangers.”

He smiles and asks in a sing-song voice, “Is that so?”

You return his smile, but before you can ask him for his name, another voice echoes through the trees. “Your father calls, my lady.” You look between the elf and the passageway to the Elvenking’s Halls, and he dips his head to bid you goodbye. “Farewell, fair sir.” You say before hurrying away. Thankfully, you received only a light reprimanding from your father for sneaking away that day. 

Perhaps life in Mirkwood wouldn’t be so bad, if only you could see that elf again. Then you remember that you are already meeting none other than Legolas, son of Thranduil, and it would be most inappropriate to have relations with others. You hope Legolas is a kind, reasonable person- you don’t even know what he looks like! However, if your father suggested you marry him, then Legolas must be an honorable elf. “We must go.” Your father states. Soon, you are on your horse, traveling once again to Mirkwood for a feast. Here you will meet Legolas. 

After nearly two weeks’ journey, you arrive at Mirkwood. Though it is nearly midnight, you are greeted by the King’s stewards, who lead you to the chambers you will sleep in during your visit. You thank them and quickly close the doors behind them. After a few moments, you decide that the halls are empty enough to quietly creep out of your chambers. You take the same path that you found the elf on during your last visit, hoping to see him one last time. “My lady, it is hardly safe to be away from the Elvenking’s Halls at this hour.” You know that voice. You swivel around to find the stranger smiling from behind you. “It’s you.” Your worried face morphs into a grin, and you step towards him. “I was hoping I might see you.” You tell him.

“Oh? And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I… I am here to meet King Thranduil’s son. My father and the king have agreed a marriage would be most practical, so we are to meet tomorrow before the feast.”

It doesn’t take long for the elf in front of you to notice your troubled demeanor. He places a hand on yours, and reassures you, “Do not fret, my lady. I think the prince will take a liking to you.” “Do you know him?” You wonder. He chuckles and mutters, “You could say that.” 

“What is he like?”

He looks up at you confused, as if the question was completely surprising. “Well, let’s see,” He begins. “Our prince is a skilled bowman, very attractive, loyal beyond compare, wise, and personable.” You suppress a laugh, and share, “It almost sounds as if you should be the one marrying him.” His eyes widen and he laughs, a sound that rings like chimes in the wind. “I think not.” He says matter-of-factly. You smiled amusedly before yawning. He advises, “I should think it is time for you to retire to your chambers.” “I suppose you are correct.” You agree.

“Shall I escort you?” 

“I would like that very much.” 

You hook your arm in his and he takes you through the great halls to your room. You release your arm and he says, “This is where I bid you goodnight.” You press a kiss to his cheek, and say, “Goodnight.” You hope for the sake of your arrangement that this is the last time you’ll see him, but at the same time, you hope your paths will cross again. You settle on your bed and drift into sleep.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ☼ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The next morning, you are awakened by elven servants. They bring you food, draw you a bath, and lay out your clothes. After preparing for the day, your father comes to collect you and take you to King Thranduil’s throne room. Lord Elrond seems to sense your anxiety, murmuring, “Do not worry, child. I will be here with you the entire time.” His words soothe you a bit, and you swallow thickly as you near the throne room. Lord Elrond announces your presence as the two of you enter, and King Thranduil eyes you from his seat. The blond elf from your encounter last night is present as well, perplexing you greatly. Perhaps he is a servant, a guard, or a steward of the king. Thranduil rises, beckoning to the elf and declaring, “This is my son, Legolas.” “You are Legolas?” You ask, shocked. He bows his head in respect, saying, “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady.” For a moment, you are speechless, but you manage to respond, “As am I.” Legolas takes your hand and asks you if you’d like to walk. You nod and he asks your father, “May I?” Lord Elrond and King Thranduil both look puzzled, but Elrond responds, “You may.” With that, you and Legolas take your leave, walking out of the grand room and into the halls. Once you are out of earshot, you retract your hand and turn to Legolas. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! This entire time… You played me for a fool.” He reaches for your hand again, explaining, “No, I don’t think you’re a fool and I didn’t mean to lead you on. My intentions are honest, and I meant to tell you my identity, I swear. Once it became apparent I needed to tell you, I just didn’t know how. You seemed so interested in me, I was afraid you might change your mind if you knew.” You look at him, still hurt and reassured at the same time. “Legolas, you should have said something. I don’t care if you’re the prince. Even if you were the king, my feelings would not change.” You allow him to hold your hands and he lifts one to press a kiss against your knuckles. “I am glad. I look forward to getting to know you better.” You feel heat rise to your cheeks. You spend the day with Legolas and you find he is everything you had hoped he would be- and more. “The time of the feast approaches, shall we return?” He asks. You tell him, “The feast is for us, is it not? Could you imagine a feast without its honored guests? I think we must go… Unless we convince others we are already there by replacing ourselves with remarkably lifelike replicas.” He laughs, then places a hand on the small of your back to lead you to the mead hall. The feast is merry and all who attend appear jovial. There are many elves dancing and singing and, of course, eating. You can’t help but look at the attendees and smile, as if the cheer were contagious. Legolas comes up behind you and notes your smile, asking, “Are you enjoying yourself?” 

“Yes, very much. I have never attended a feast in Mirkwood before.”

“Is it everything you had imagined?”

“That and more.”

He places a hand on your shoulder and draws you near. His heart warms at the way you look up at him, mirthful and kind. As each moment passes, he can almost feel his affection for you growing. “Legolas, would you like to dance?” He raises his eyebrows at the unexpected question, but before he can answer, you take his hand and drag him into the middle of the floor. Laughing, you take his hands and whirl to the sound of the music. He can’t help but watch the way your dress flows and how happy you look to be here. Heavens, the look on your face- he could stare at you forever if you’d let him. The two of you dance for a while, then take a break to drink and converse. You look at Legolas’s flushed face and can’t help but ask, “Are you liking the feast?” “Yes,” He replies. “Truthfully, there are very few times I’ve had more fun.” You beam at him and tell him you are very glad. He murmurs, “Come, I should like to show you something.” You both steal away from the feast and you follow Legolas until you come to the large doors that lead to the rest of Mirkwood. “Legolas, we shouldn’t.” You warn. 

“Do not worry. It will be worth it.”

You creep past the doors and run into the woods together, where he signals you to stay close to him. He says, “I know these woods well, but there is no doubt that danger lurks hidden from sight.” You are no fighter, versed only in combat with weapons. Here, however, you have no bow nor any sabre. Legolas looks back at you and it’s as if he read your mind. “I do not leave the halls without a weapon. I will make sure no harm comes to you.” He says, spinning a small blade in his hand. He begins to climb a tree, and, though you are wearing a particularly elaborate dress, you follow suit. Once you reach the top, you draw in a sharp breath. Naturally, you have seen the night sky innumerable times, but it still leaves you awe-stricken. “Gil-Estel,” You say breathlessly. “It is so bright.” You examine the dark blanket of the sky, peppered with glittering stars. Turning to Legolas, you can’t help but tell him, “It is beautiful. Thank you.” He gazes at you with such tenderness, you wish that he may be yours for a short while. Even if just for this night, you wish that he will stay by your side and grace you once more with his smile. You tell him, “I made a wish.”

“What?”

“I have heard that some men make wishes to the stars. I am not certain of the merit of this belief, but I made a wish myself just now.”

“I see. I only wish that I may be worthy of you one day.”

His response leaves you silent. You want to say, “Oh, Legolas, hûn nín, you already are.” But you cannot speak. His eloquence and timing leaves you dumbstruck every time without fail. His expression is unreadable, and you’re afraid he might think you don’t care for him in the same manner. Just when you open your mouth to speak, he says, “We should return. Too much time has already passed.” Trying to conceal your disappointment, you agree and climb to the ground. He helps you slink back into the mead hall unnoticed, and doesn’t stray far from you for the rest of the night. As the sun rises, elves begin to filter out of the hall one by one. Legolas is talking to King Thranduil, when your father says, “I hope you enjoyed your escapade.” You look at him embarrassedly, and he asks, “Did you think I would not notice? I admit, I still worry for you as if you were a small child, feeling the need to guide your every step. However, I have trust that you are capable of making wise decisions. I only hope that you will be happy.” You tell him, “I am very happy. Legolas is a good man.” Lord Elrond smiles and walks away as Legolas returns to you. “Are you fatigued at all? Do you wish to rest?” He asks. You laugh, “No, Legolas, I feel quite alright.”

“Your hair… It must have come undone in the woods.”

You touch the back of your head to feel that your braids either have unwinded or are tangled. “Would you help me with it?” You ask. Legolas looks at you wide eyed. “Me…? Are you sure?” He questions. You consider it for a brief moment- are you certain you want to take that big a step? When you look at him, though, your concerns melt away. You trust him, wholly and completely. “Yes.” With your answer, Legolas brings you to your chambers and has you sit at the vanity. His fingers are hesitant and hover over your hair for a moment before he deftly begins to detangle your tresses. His fingers are slightly cold, but it doesn’t bother you. He works quickly and skillfully, neatly setting your hair into pleats. You can’t tell exactly how many pins he uses to secure your hair in place, but his gentle hands make them nearly unnoticeable. After a short while, he proudly declares, “I am finished. You may now tell your friends that your hair was pleated by a master.” “Oh, really? A master?” You quip. He nods enthusiastically and you can’t help but laugh. Your smile slowly fades as you realize you must leave within the next few days. “Is something the matter?” Legolas asks sweetly. 

“I must leave soon.”

“Don’t go.” He urges.

“I cannot stay here. I must go home.” 

“Must you?”

“Legolas, I… It is hardly appropriate to stay with you given the circumstances.”

“Then I shall ask to court you.” 

Again, you are taken aback. Legolas, though not always reserved, is acting uncharacteristically bold. You feel his forehead, wondering, “Are you sick?” He huffs in amusement, but takes your hand from his forehead and quickly regains his serious look. “I am being sincere. I would like to stay with you longer.” He says. Your head is swimming with thoughts of him, and your heart is racing in excitement. He calls your name softly, and you bring your gaze to him. He looks earnest, nervous, and enthusiastic all at once. “I would like nothing more.” You answer. He laughs and embraces you, his warmth enveloping you. It is caring, inviting, comfortable and unlike anything you have ever experienced. He lets go and straightens his tunic, uttering, “I do not know what came over me. I apologize if I was too forward.”  You hold his hand, telling him, “Legolas, it is okay. I am happy too.” He grins and ushers you to follow him to ask your father. Lord Elrond looks surprised, but grants Legolas permission nonetheless. King Thranduil’s face is unreadable as ever, but he does not object, which you suppose is good. Your father then takes you aside to speak, saying, “I did not expect to return to Rivendell without you.”

“I am sorry.”

“Do not be sorry, I only mean that your presence will be missed.”

Tears well in your eyes as you realize you do not know when your next visit to Rivendell will be. “Do not cry,” Lord Elrond says softly. “Your journey has only begun. Your family will be ready should you need us.” You nod, suppressing tears. “And,” He adds, peering at Legolas. “You are not alone.” You turn to see Legolas waiting for you beyond the large doorway. “Thank you, father.” You give him one last embrace, and Legolas joins you to see him off. As you watch the horses gallop away, you sigh deeply. Your life will be different from now on, but you’re glad. 

°•. ✿ .•°

You spend much of your time with Legolas, and he quickly learns that you are a woman of many interests. You are skilled with both a bow and a sabre, your fingers move expertly to weave baskets and plait hair, and you enjoy several forms of visual art. He praises your abilities- you are multifaceted and so resolute in your beliefs. He goes so far as to request paper and a utensil as a means for you to draw. Day by day, you explore with Legolas and occasionally stop to sketch the scenery or a species you may have never seen before. During these times, Legolas likes to watch you with deep admiration. Your reverence and appreciation for nature are other things he likes about you. Being the simple creature you are, you find solace just being with Legolas. He provides comfort and care you didn’t know you could have. 

Then, perhaps months later, Legolas is called to Rivendell. “I must go.” He states apologetically. “Take me with you.” You plead. 

“The journey will be dangerous. I do not wish to place you in peril’s way.”

“Legolas, you know I can hold my own.”

He seems to consider it for a moment, but concedes, “I feel you will be safer here with my father and the guard.” “Legolas, who better to ensure my safety than you?” You reason. That seems to have been more effective, as he sighs weakly before saying, “Fine. You may come with me, but we must return to Mirkwood.” You agree, and he hastily prepares extra supplies. King Thranduil emerges, but only to stare at the two of you coldly as you venture into the distance. 

Traveling with Legolas is like a dream. Both of you are often alone in Mirkwood, but there is something to be said about journeying with him. It is truly just the two of you, with no chambers to return to at the end of the day and nothing keeping you confined within one area. You banter with Legolas often during the trek to Rivendell, and at night you bring your head to his chest. You gaze at the stars together as you did that night many moons ago, and you slumber peacefully drawn close to Legolas. He offers you lembas, which you graciously accept each time, and is careful to wipe away any crumbs left on your face. You almost prefer this life to the one in Mirkwood, but it is cut short when you finally arrive in Rivendell.

Your father greets Legolas at the entrance to the great valley and is especially glad to see you. “My dear, it is always a delight. I would talk with you longer, were it not for a pressing situation.” “Yes,” Legolas begins. “I offer my deepest apologies to you.” Lord Elrond looks at him for a moment, then begins, “Oh, no, it is not that. There is… something else that has come up.” You and Legolas look at each other with confusion on your faces, but Lord Elrond is already bringing Legolas further into Rivendell. “Am I not to come?” You ask, feeling a bit dejected. Father turns to you, and says, “My daughter, you must not attend this meeting. I apologize but the magnitude of this is far too great; it will not be safe for you.” You nod your head slowly, and make your way to your sister’s quarters. Arwen embraces you with a wide smile, and you each share what has happened in your lives since you last met. Eventually, your father returns and informs you that you may want to speak with Legolas. You look between Lord Elrond and Arwen worriedly at first, then heed your father’s suggestion. You arrive outside and there are several strange men gathered near the entrance of Rivendell. Legolas turns to greet you and, for the first time, you can see fear on his face. “What ails you?” You ask him as you rush to meet him. “I have been appointed to a task, which will be great in time and distance. It will be treacherous and… I fear I may never see you again.” He explains. “Do not say that. You are steadfast, both in will and in strength. I am sure we will meet again.” You try to convince him. He nods and holds your face in his hands, then presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Meleth nín.” He mutters, still holding your face so you cannot see him. Carefully, you raise your head to meet his eyes, and say, “I love you.” You can see in his eyes he is unbearably upset, as if he cannot bear to leave you. “Go. I will wait here.” With those words, he turns and leaves.

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

It is many months before you see Legolas again. You see your people leave, and it pains you to watch the very life of Rivendell leave the place you once called home. Arwen and your father spend many moments together, discussing something that is beyond your knowledge. However, they also spend many moments attempting to comfort you. You have faith that Legolas will return, so you wait patiently, always watching the horizon for his lean figure. It isn’t until you travel to Minas Tirith with your father and sister that you finally see Legolas again. Arwen weds Aragorn in what seems to be a human ceremony. There you see him: Legolas, casually conversing with some people that you think you saw him set out from Rivendell with. The stout dwarf next to him sees you approaching first and gently elbows Legolas. He looks up, and with a grin opens his arms to greet you. Breaking into a trot, you launch yourself into his arms and he wraps his arms around you in a tight hold. “Legolas…” You sob softly. He quickly leans back to brush your tears away, saying, “None of that, love. I’m here now.” He holds you to his chest pressing kiss upon kiss to the crown of your head. “My lady.” The dwarf grunts, bowing slightly to you. Then he turns to Legolas to ask, “Is this…?” Legolas laughs, “Yes, this is her.” You sigh at the feeling of being in Legolas’s arms again, but you are interrupted by Legolas saying, “Actually, I have something.” He reaches into his pocket and produces a silver ring. “Legolas…” You gasp, eyes welling with tears once again. You nod your head vehemently, and Legolas slips the ring on your right index finger. Legolas doesn’t waste any time kissing you, in response to which you place a hand on either side of his face. When you pull away, tears of joy stream down your cheeks. “What’re you making her cry for now?!” Gimli reprimands Legolas. The elf simply replies with a smirk, “Gimli, have you ever been to an elven wedding?”

[oakbuggy]

I need Eetu- Like ram meeeeeee!!

absolutely correct, he IS SO PRETTY

also i learned my lesson from solek, full drawing on ao3, ur welcome,

and if u can't see it on ao3, here is the twitter!

[ftcatv]

i just wanted to draw him like, all fancy and shit *sniff*

[arsenicflame]

stede is 'oh this place has something related to my interest i must go in immediately' autistic and izzy is 'if we deviate one inch from my plan for today i will murder someone' autistic

[mysicklove]

bakugou has an album of shirtless photos of himself in the mirror where he shows all the markings you leave on his body. the bite marks, the scratches, the hickeys, the bruises, all of it. he wants to remember every little thing you leave on him, because the second he notices they start healing, he begs, a little too panickedly, for you to do it again. because his muscles always looked better a little abused.

[devis-nonsense-n-shitposting]

I am still thinking about Castlevania Nocturne, I am so not normal about this show. Fucking ALUCARD showing up at the end still has me reeling. Fuck. Adrien Fahrenheit freaking Tepes, son of FUCKING DRACULA himself, just shows up and kills the most gaslight girlboss gatekeep vampire and is like "Heyy guys so sowwy I'm late" and then season one just ends. Also everyone in this show was serving, and I hope we either get to see a flashback of young Juste OR see Grandpa Juste put on his Iconic red outfit, I would literally scream. Well, I'm already screaming but still.

Anywho I'm going to go pray to the Writers on hopes that Tera is going to end up okay by the end of the show

[hsrblake]

I would say I love these two together look how he's looking at her he likes admiring her from a distance.

[daughter-of-lethe]

What feels home for Nesta?

It wasn't a home, this place. Just as her apartment hadn't been a home. Neither had her father's fancy new house, before Hybern had half-destroyed it. And neither had the cottage, or the glorious manor before that. Home was a foreign word.

She felt Cassian's hand tighten on hers. That was the way back. Nothing could trap her, hold her, if she had that way home.

And warm and safe and home at last in Cassian's arms, Nesta slept.

A home. The House of Wind, Velaris, this court... They were her home. The thought kindled a kernel of light in her chest that had not extinguished, even in the days after the Rite.

Thinking about my girl happy, with her mate, her friends, her family made me cry.

Nesta considering Cassian home, knowing she has someone waiting for her, be there for her, with who she can be calm, be safe, it just cracks me

[hoohoobeanie]

scream i scrumpt

[sam-dimples]

Inspired by Sam's cowboy portrait in the french mistake

[melobin]

[wiirocku]

Proverbs 16:7 (NKJV) - When a man’s ways please the LORD, He makes even his enemies to be at peace with him.

[wrathofrats]

wrath im still thinking about tdick ifrit. how do you think the lovely zephyr prefers to have him? >:)

Hi beloved I am also constantly thinking about ifrits t dick don’t worry

(Cunt, clit and dick all used to refer to ifrit here)

I think zephyr is kinda obsessed with the way ifrit looks honestly. Like clearly they’re obsessed with everything about him but fuck Zeph could stare at him for hours if they were given the option.

Sometimes that’s what zephyr asks for. Tells ifrit to put on a little show for Zeph, show them the way he touches himself when he’s all alone.

Sits in a chair across from the end of the bed to get a good view of his cunt, just wants to see everything he’s doing.

“Go slow baby” Zeph corrects once ifrit is laying down. Already trying to work a couple fingers into himself within just a couple seconds of starting. They both know how sensitive he can be, both know if he’s allowed to go at his own pace this won’t last very long.

Zephyr can already see the light shine off of his slick when he opens his legs, just the idea of being watched already turning him on. He feels fucking pathetic when he can already hear how wet he is but Zeph can’t help but think it’s adorable.

“Wanna stroke yourself for me sweetheart? You know i love when you play with your cock” zeph bites their lip. They think they could be drooling but they don’t care because the way ifrit shakily moans once he starts to stroke his clit between his fingers has Zeph about to pass out.

“Fuck Zeph-“ ifrit gasps and bucks into his own hand, “please want you please need-“ he struggles.

His movements are rushed and sloppy, too wet to get any real friction on himself and it’s frustrating, torturous. His other hand slips down his body and crooks two fingers into himself with ease.

Ifrit can’t help being so easy with the way zephyr eyes him like some piece of meat, he knows he’s a bit sick for it but he loves being watched like this. Sometimes wants zephyr to just take him wherever he is and show him off.

“I know baby, wanna tell me what you want?” Zephyr coos at his struggle.

“Mouth, want your mouth on me Zeph please”

Zephyr rushes to their knees at the end of the bed, roughly pulling at ifrit thighs to get his cunt in front of them.

If it was his decision zephyr could have their mouth on ifrit all day. Loves sucking on his little t dick, loves licking into him and hearing him cry out.

He’s messy, already having zephyrs face practically dripping after a couple licks. Ifrits hands fly to zephyrs hair and hold them there while they swirl their tongue around his clit. Moaning and whimpering trying to grind against his face.

Ifrits just a bit pathetic when zephs allowed to be in charge