#becoming an adult dwarf

[mrkida-art]

The Longbeard forces marching towards Azanulbizar included dwarves as young as 16. They were children forced into a reality they could not fully comprehend. The toys they once held in their hands had been replaced with swords, shields, and axes.

For when the King calls, none may refuse him

#my art #durin's folk #longbeards #azanulbizar #moria #khazad-dum #the lord of the rings #tolkien #the hobbit #dwarves #dwarfling #dwarf children #Gloin was canonically 16 at the time of the battle #and they become adults around their 70s so that's really young #lotr #lotro

[eveningepiphany]

something about the legs | h.s oneshot

summary: something about your best friends legs really does it for you, especially in skinny jeans…

warnings: besties with unexpected and very impulsive benefits, oral sex (mrec), lots and lots of talk about those mfing legs and thighs, dirty talk, h not expecting you to be like that until you are.

a/n: so it’s been a hot minute… hi again🤪 but something rlly just sent me spiralling with this pic of h’s fucking legs. look at them. anyways, enjoy me being a slut and channeling it into some fine literature, enjoy xoxo

———

Ovulation week is a curse. An absolute, utter curse.

Between the multitude of random fluctuating symptoms and skyrocketing hormones, you feel dreaded enough as it is. But the worst part, is every fucking month you become absolutely manic with need.

Some are increasingly better or worse than others, but this month is something off the charts.

There is no warrant for you to be this fucking horny at 9:32pm on a Thursday night. Yet here you are, squirming because you’re around someone that already riles you up enough as it is.

Harry is your best friend. Has been for years. Since the awkward starting phases of middle school. All braces paired with horrendous fashion choices. And into the ages of highschool throughout all the drama and predictable thematics. Into the present, where life throws you curveballs as you enter the world as young adults, and now that he’s in one direction. You can’t imagine going through all that with anyone else.

Actually, maybe it’s fit to mention you’re almost certain that this man never went through an awkward phase… despite the fact possibly everyone else on the planet did. Harry did not.

He was cute from the day he was born, it’s evident in the pictures, up until he hit puberty, then he became some ungodly mix of both cute and ridiculously hot.

It’s disgusting that someone can do both things at the same time. And also revolting that they can have no idea at all.

But tonight, he is all hot. Between the way he’s dressed, the way he’s walking, and the way he’s talking. It’s close to killing you where you’re sat.

Thighs clenched together like there’s a thousand dollar check between them, you sit on a outdoor couch at your family’s holiday house.

It’s just the two of you outside on the large decked patio. It’s a huge house by the lake that your parents and grandparents own, so you invited Harry to come stay for the week. Your family were thrilled you invited him, but have already turned in for an early night. Since they planned to be out on the lake for a day of water activities almost before the damn sun was even fully up.

Harry has a glass of alcohol in his hands— one that is completely dwarfed in his hold. It’s condensation forming small droplets over the ridges of his fingers.

He hasn’t realised the staring you’ve been doing, as he paces the deck talking about something to do with a recent song he’s been writing.

You’re sliding in small hums of agreement at the appropriate times without even hearing what he’s saying. Only the pleasing lilt in his voice that tickles your ears as it enters them.

He’s got those black skinny jeans on, the pair that cling to his hips for dear life. And not only are they fit to his hips, but they hug every single curve on his legs. The thick of his thighs all the way down to the muscle of his calf.

And if anything was the killer for you tonight, it was those.

You’re surprised you’re not drooling on yourself. Which is fucking disgusting, but fact. As there is an over-production of saliva in your mouth right now just looking at his legs.

He is so muscly there. The presumed strength of his thighs makes you actually pant, and you never thought legs did it for you like this. But my god right now, they certainly are.

“But I jus’ dunno Y/N,” he turns to you, causing you to snap your gaze from the curve of his ass which you were shamelessly just staring at, back to his face.

It doesn’t get better for you anywhere you look. The man was built and sculpted by a god. Every feature was painstaking to look at, and not be able to touch.

“What d’ya reckon would sound better?” He asks, nonchalantly, unaware you were just eyeing him up.

You feel some shame now, as you scramble to find an answer for the question you don’t even know the context for.

“Well, i think whatever you feel flows better. Yknow?” You swallow, praying to god it’s diluted enough of an answer that he’ll just take it without question.

He nods, and relief floods through you, “i s’pose you’re right.”

However that relief hardly lasts long, because he’s not as clueless as you’d presumed, “You’re pretty good at giving advice even when you’re only half listening.”

He saunters over from the span of deck he’d been pacing the last 10 minutes, sitting down next to you with a smug look on his face. You feel the cushions dip with his body weight, and you’re so delusioned that even a part of you twinges with desire at the understanding of his weight. The idea of him pressing it down on top of you during—

“What’s on ya mind, love, why are you s’faraway lookin’?” He asks, sipping at his drink with a quirk of his dark eyebrows.

“I—“ Christ. He’s manspreading a bit right now… thighs pushed apart, “I’m just tired. Been a big few days.”

His curly, and boyishly-messy hair is cascading over his forehead and casting a shadow of his green gaze, the same one that’s nailing you where you’re sat right now.

He doesn’t look very convinced. And he’s watching your eyes flicker around, looking guilty of a lie, presumably the words that just came from your mouth.

“You don’t have t’lie, dove.” He laughs, a soft songbird-like chuckle that somewhat eases your tenseness.

You feel so dirty for thinking about him like this. When he can’t tell you it’s okay to be imagining absolutely sinful things you’d do… or let be done when it comes to him. However, you are so hormonal right now, that you don’t have it in yourself to stop.

He was just simply the wrong person, in the wrong place, at coincidentally the right time in your hormonal cycle.

And you feel even worse because there’s years of history behind the two of you. And friends are not meant to think of each other like this, it makes things quickly complicated. And this is not a hallmark film.

“I know.” You sigh out, “it’s not you, H. I’m just… hormonal.”

His first thought was that you were on your period, a look of tender concern flitting across his face.

“Oh, is your period making you feel sick?”

You could laugh at the irony. You are infact neither of the things he thinks. Not bleeding, and not ill.

He has looked after you before when you’ve been in the trenches with your period. He is always so willing to get you anything when you’re not feeling well.

And you can tell by the look on his pretty face he’s about to ask you he can get you anything to help— pain relief, water, snacks or simply a hug.

A gentleman, as always.

But if he asks you if you need anything, you only have one answer and that’s him. You need him, and not in a platonic way. So you interject before he can ask,

“No, quiet the opposite.” You shake your head, pursing your lips.

“But it’s fine,” you amend curtly, “just girl stuff.”

The two of you get consumed by a momentary silence, he was waiting for more information, which you simply were not giving. After a few seconds, he sputters out a sudden laugh.

“You can tell me, if you want, idiot.” He laughs, nudging you with his knee. His very attractive leg being left pressed into yours. “Gross details and personal stuff never usually stop us.”

Your whole body is burning up, overwhelmed. He is so fucking hot, and caring. You want him filling up your goddamn throat.

“No, trust me. This is all left best untold and ignored. I can’t help it, so we’re just ignoring it.” Your tone is certain, and to this he nods. Able to tell that’s as much of an answer he’d be getting for now, so he begrudgingly accepts it.

“Fine, fine, you’re just so stiff. Need t’relax.” He slides his free hand behind your back to pull him into his side.

Tugging you the small distance between you two, your head comes naturally to rest in the crook of his neck. Nose inhaling the woodsy scent of his cologne, smelling like the refreshingly cool breeze on a muggy summer night.

His thumb strokes a delicate back and forth rhythm on the bare skin it’s found between the waistband of your jeans and the hem of your fitted top.

It’s killing you, because he’s so gentle with you. Such a sweetheart really, but you’re breaking out a sweat at the feeling of his fingertips against your skin. You need a cold shower.

You try not to let your eyes wander down to the legs in those fucking jeans.

“S’long as ya alright,” he murmurs into your hair, “is there anything you need from me? ‘Cause if I can do anything for ya, yknow I would.”

Your stomach drops, how are you even supposed to answer that. Your face heats with even more guilt.

Your internal voice drops in her two cents on the question— your cock, she confidently stated. That was what she wanted.

“No, nothing you can do that’s reasonable, H.” You say, too dangerously close to him dragging the truth out of your needy mouth for your liking.

He tilts his head down to look at the profile of your face, curiously prodding further, “How unreasonable are we talking?”

“Ridiculously and foolishly unreasonable.”

“Why?”

“Sh. Don’t make me tell you, because I don’t want to.” You state defiantly, rolling away from his hold, since now you’re talking about it— although vaguely— it’s just making it worse.

Focusing on it is making the need more intense, your eyes feasting unintentionally on his muscled body relaxing on the couch.

He’s got this smirk on his lips. One you want to kiss off.

“You’re blushing, is it that bad?”

You scoff, “Yes, that bad.”

“Okay… so, it’s not your period, and it’s technically fixable— since you just said it’s unreasonable for me to do it… not impossible.” he’s wondering out loud, watching your every move.

Which now you’ve stood up and started pacing, trying to distract yourself from the pulsing between your legs and the begging voice in your head that wants to touch him so badly.

“Stop being nosey! God!” You frustratedly whine out, and he laughs at your sudden anger at not only him, but at seemingly just being a woman.

“Just trying to help, baby, don’t get mad.” He teases, and between his suddenly mocking mouth, your resolve snaps like a fickle twig.

“Fuck, I’m horny. Harry!” You groan out, covering your eyes over with the palms of your hands so you don’t have to see his likely disgusted face at your confession.

But now that you’ve started you can’t stop, “You just… your fucking legs and thighs are just… I don’t know! I’m ovulating and you’re just really sexy, it’s frustrating and I really want to die right now, H.”

In reality, his brows had just shot up with surprise, lips parting in shock. He could not believe you just admitted that.

He glanced down to his legs. He’s just in jeans, it wasn’t like he felt as though they were anything to write home about.

It shocked him that you even… well obviously the two of you are best friends. But it was rare that topics of sex came up, so all the sudden the conversation being about that and also about you is making his head spin.

Yet something comes over him, he doesn’t think as he speaks his next words, “Tha’s not as unreasonable as you made it out to be.”

You snap your hands down from your face, eyes locking onto his— he doesn’t look repulsed or uncomfortable as you had originally expected. He looks inexplicably open to the topic.

“I’ve got somethin’ you need, somethin’ that can fix it, love.” He states, shrugging his shoulders, his voice going almost sultry, “An’ yknow what I said, hm?”

At your silence— because you’re too stunned to even speak— he finishes the sentence for you, “Said I’d do anything for ya.”

Oh, is this quickly snowballing.

“Harry!” You shake your head, it feeling so wrong to be talking about this with him.

He abandons his drink on the small side table beside the couch, standing up and breaching the distance between you.

“Jus’ say the words, and then im yours.” He lowly whispers, and this is about to make you pass out. You’re clenching around nothing in your underwear, and the proposition is so tempting.

“We shouldn’t though. It’s not your responsibility to… satiate me.” You gulp out, nervous, yet body flaming with heat.

“Y/N, best friends help each other out… tha’s all it has to be, jus’ me making y’feel better.” he says, hand coming to run down your upper arm. And the second you started talking about this, his cock has been twitching where it’s confined his jeans.

“You can make all the decisions, all the calls, m’kay?” The statement was reassuring.

You lean into his touch, caving without anymore of a fight, “Okay… alright. Just… tell me if you change your mind. Please?”

His lips curl into a satisfied smile, feeling his hand get taken by yours. It’s much to risky to be fucking around with your best friend on the families patio, so you lead him down the steps into the dark, open backyard.

They have a pier, that’s lit with small solar lights, and that’s the first place you can that is reasonable enough to go. You tug him along the wooden decking it has, feet drumming against it.

Against a tree was too dark, and you at least want to see his cock if you’re getting the opportunity to touch it.

“On the pier, hey? That desperate.” He teases, and you push him with your free hand into one of its big wooden pillars.

“I want your cock down my throat, how’s that for desperate?” You scoff, pulling a laugh of pure shock from his own lips.

“I’m serious, H.” You look at him, stone cold expression. You are so riled up and ready to touch him that you need immediate confirmation this is something he wants.

“Go on, said you wanted it.”

Before you sink down onto your knees, you question him further, “you want this, though?”

A smile spreads over his mouth, “baby, you’re gonna be able to feel just how much i want this when you get down there. I was bricked the second you said you were horny.”

That was all you needed, dropping to the ground on your knees— now with his consent, your filter completely disappeared.

“Fuck me, Harry. I don’t think you understand how sexy you are.” Hands immediately coming up to squeeze the muscle of his thighs.

He hums a noise as he looks down at you on your knees, “Never thought legs would do it for you, but here we are.”

“Only thing i could think about is digging my nails into your thighs…”

You drag your hands back up to where the buckle of his belt laid, grabbing at it and undoing it. Slipping it out of the loops in his pants in a swift movement.

Leaning forward, you lift the hem of his black shirt, pressing your mouth against his happy trail.

You’re a slut for that little teasing patch of hair that dips below his low jeans. It causes you to whine out, a wordless sound of appreciation as you peck kisses over it.

The button and zipper quickly got undone by your nimble hands, and you finally brush over the prominent bulge that’s perked up in his boxers.

A realisation that you’re about to see your best friends dick for the first time kind of hits you, causing you to roll your lips between your teeth.

His suddenly strained voice comes from above you, “fuck, Y/N, don’t get shy with me. Y’can take me out.”

He’s almost ready to beg, even though this is all technically for you. But he didn’t anticipate how sensitive he would be when it’s a special girls hands running over his bulge.

However that’s exactly how it is, he’s already biting his lip as you cup him through his briefs, head tilted backwards with a sudden shared need.

You draw his jeans further down, “patience, im just enjoying you, pretty boy.”

The doting nickname earns a small groan from his lips, paired with the fact you’re now mouthing at his inner thighs. They’re warm and firm, dusted with dark hairs. You suck the most inner and upper part of his thigh into your mouth, causing him to grunt out.

You busy yourself with that particular part of his skin for a moment, rubbing the backs of your hands around the flesh of his ass. Still unfortunately covered by his briefs.

“So fuckin’ good to me, H.” You muttered into his soft skin, dragging your nose over to kiss the fabric covering his hard cock.

It makes him twitch, “letting me do this… and touch you where I want.”

You sound so out of it, replacing your mouth with your hand momentarily so you can go back to kissing his thighs, teeth impulsively barring over them. He shudders at the sensation.

After a bit more teasing, you finally start to pull the waistband of his black calvins down.

When his cock is fully out, you moan. You straight out moan at the sight of it. It’s glistening tip is a flushed red, beading out a sliver of precum for you, and it was safe to say he’s well equipped.

The two of you curse in sync as you hold him in your hand, feeling the weight as you stroke gently.

“Christ, tha’s good.” He curses out, hips stuttering forward slightly. You take a moment to look up at his face.

His cheeks have gone a slight red, and his lips are shiny from his teeth and tongue constantly running over them. Not to mention the way his lidded eyes are gazing down at you.

You hold eye contact as you lean in to lick over his tip in one solid stroke, watching his face twist in pleasure.

It makes your core drip. Seeing his cock, tasting it, watching him react to your touch. It fuels you to take his tip into your mouth, giving a gentle suck.

Your fingers take refugee digging into his thighs, and you are already loosing you mind with him between your lips. Somehow, you’re almost convinced you could come just from sucking on his dick.

Your self control is completely shattered now, you draw back and spit over his length, listening to him groan out as he watches the action.

“Drool on me, darling.” He says, the gentle demand makes you eager to impress him. You liked the idea of him telling you what to do… maybe even forcing you.

Fuck, you are sick and twisted, you scoffed internally at your self. Yet proceeding to gather your saliva and let it dribble down onto him.

“Thank you, thank you…” you murmur against him, and he twitches at your still airy voice. He would kill to know just how wet you were between your legs.

It was such a sight for you though, seeing him start to get slicked up with your own spit. Your mouth reconnected with him, sliding further down, hand coming up to massage his balls.

You’re whining around him now, starting to move in a sort of rhythm over his cock. You can’t help it, you were becoming frantic at him filling your throat.

The vibration of your mouth sends his hand flying into your hair, drawing a cuss from his lips, “fuck, Y/N…”

You get his cock as far as you can into your mouth without gagging— you’ll leave that for a little later— stroking the remainder. There’s something about the way he takes up the space between your lips, the feeling of his thick cock atop your tongue.

You glance up at him, fingertips teasing the inner parts of his thigh. Just as you look up, you give a harsh suck, hollowing out your mouth and lathing your tongue on the underside of him. Feeling the vein that runs along him.

His head almost bangs back against the wooden beam he’s leaning on, you feel the slight stutter of his hips.

A moan reverberated around you, filling your ears pleasingly. You draw back for a breathe, “you taste so good.”

His hand curls in your hair, panting out, “You’re such a needy girl…”

“Like that?” He asks at the whimper that come from you, “like being told that I see how desperate y’becoming?”

You nod immediately, “please…”

At your way of asking for more dirty talk he smiles, “becoming my little slut? Warming my cock with your mouth just because you’re so horny for it.”

When you don’t reply with words, and only a senseless moan, he taps your mouth with his fingers gently.

“Show me, baby.”

You part your lips almost instantly at his command, jutting your wet tongue out, ready to take him back into your mouth.

He guides his cock back between your lips, and that’s about as far as he gets before you have to take over from him again. All he can register is how hot and warm you’re mouth is as it wraps around him again.

You start to bob your head, taking him all the way down your throat with a slight gag. You’re whining without warrant now, all over his spit slicked cock.

It’s paired with his own moans of pleasure and words of praise as you suddenly draw back, flicking over his wet tip with your tongue, teasing it and making him grunt.

Your soul existence quickly slips to being just about his cock and hearing his noises. Being able to look up at him and see the sweat beginning to sheen over his forehead, and the mess of his soft hair.

His eyes are squeezed shut, and he has to forcibly open them every so often to see you. A reality check for himself that down on her knees, is his best friend. Drooling all over his prick with a insatiable need.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He states as you take him all the way down your throat again.

“Taking me like the slut y’are. Might ‘ave to fuck you like one later, how’s that sound?” His mouth has gone loose now, brain muddled with only thoughts of you in it.

You suck and nod over him, brain rioting with a yes at his question.

“Probably so wet, so warm.” He mutters in half thought, and the idea of him even thinking of you like that makes you clench multiple times in your panties.

You roll you hips against nothing which he is grateful he caught with his half lidded eyes. The look of sheer desperation that crossed your face.

Moving faster, you starting taking his cock at a pace that immediately made his hand coil tighter in your hair.

“Fuck… im gon’ come faster than I’d like if y’keep— shit— doing that.” He moans, and you draw back quickly.

“Need to taste it… please, Harry.” You beg, forcing your throat back down around him once you’d got a breathe.

You gagged around him in full this time, earning his hips bucking against you.

Strings of dirty talk and cusses were flying out of his mouth, like a litany being repeated over and over. He kept praising you.

“That warm mouth…fuck… fucking me so good baby. Want to keep y’down there for hours, like m’personal little cockslut.”

Your nails dug into the backs of his meaty thighs, making you moan around him. Spit was covering your chin as you moved hastily over his hard prick.

“Like that idea?” He asked gruffly, “making you drool all over me like this until I’m empty, an’ y’ve come in y’panties to the point you’re dripping.”

You feverishly bob your head, sucking hard against him. If his bucking hips and loose mouth are any indicator, he’s getting close.

A few more minutes of your mouth, and he’s swearing, “im gonna come, dove— fuck— where do y’want it?”

Trying not to stop to long, looking up at his flushed face and blown out eyes, you lowly plead, “on my tongue, please…”

“Good slut, good fucking girl!” He slurs out.

You draw back to his tip, eager to taste him properly. You spit messily over his pulsing red head, kitten licking over it while your hand fucks the rest of his length at a fast pace.

It has him a wreck, and before he know it, he’s moaning out so loud he’s almost scared he woke someone in the house up.

“Fuck! I’m going to come, baby, im gonna come!”

You watch in completely infatuation as his eyes screw shut and his mouth drops into a gasp for air. You feel his hips stutter, and his cock pulse and twitch as it releases onto your awaiting tongue.

He tastes so good. You feel ashamed for even liking it that much, but as it spurts out his tip and drips onto your lower lip, your insane over it.

You rub it in with his tip, coating it over your tongue, and he pants as he opens his eyes to watch you.

It’s a sight etched into his mind forevermore. The fact his come is painted all over your tongue right now.

“Swallow it, pretty girl, let me watch.” He exhaustedly instructs you, voice raspy and deep in his post orgasm haze.

You do as told, and realising some has spilt even onto the corner of his thigh now that you’ve let him go.

Not letting it go to waste, you clean it off with a lick of your still eager mouth. Gently kissing over the spot as well.

“Taste so good, H.” You whisper against him, moving over to kiss his tip a final time.

“Thank you, again. For letting me do that…” You almost feel more satisfied than you would have if you had gotten to come as well.

“Made me feel amazing, baby.”

Or so you thought, because once he raised the point again… “If you want, since I can only imagine how desperate your little cunt is, I can return the favour somehow?”

And it was impossible to say no when he looked like that, boxers still half down his beautiful legs and face flushed that sexy shade of red.

You were in for a night, that was for sure. So much for an early morning.

———

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #he’s so #fuck me I need him so bad #anyways #hope you enjoyed #ily #last oneshot of 2023

[neil-gaiman]

Mr. Gaiman, I was wondering something. I would never accuse Sir Terry Pratchett of even unintentional plagiarism, perhaps down more to my perception of the man than anything concrete, but I was trying to figure out if there was perhaps a common source that may have inspired two works.

There was an episode of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine that bore some very generalized similarities to the plot of Night Watch, in that a man is thrown back in time to a few days before an extremely important historical riot and ends up replacing one of the key figures in said riot, who died ignominiously beforehand. I have not finished the novel but some people who heard me point out the general similarities have remarked that there are further parallels. Perhaps there are, perhaps there aren't.

I was wondering whether you knew anything about the writing of Night Watch that might shed some light on this. Its publication postdates the premier of the episode by a few years but obviously I have no idea whether its composition did.

I don't have any reason to believe that you would know, other than having known Sir Terry, but I thought I'd ask. Best wishes!

Terry and I used to talk about what he was watching on TV all the time. If you'd found a relationship between an episode of Red Dwarf and a Terry book, I think that we could conclude that Terry had borrowed the idea. I don't ever remember him talking about any Star Treks other than the original series. But that doesn't mean anything. It's quite possible that Terry caught that DS9 episode or part of it and went "But they've missed the point! That's not the interesting bit!" and went off to write his own version. It certainly wouldn't have been the first time that Terry took his irritation with a piece of popular fiction and used it as the grain of sand in the oyster to build a pearl around.

Remember, though, Person Goes Back In Time and Finds That They Are Mistaken For Someone They Think Is Important is very much a standard trope in SF. I think the first time I encountered it was Michael Moorcock's Behold the Man. What's important about Night Watch is that Vimes is becoming the person who inspired Vimes, and that we get to see how the events of the Glorious 25th of May shaped the people we have known as adult, finished versions of themselves into those people.

As a general rule though, it's wisest to read the whole book before diving off after questions about the plot, otherwise you might look a bit silly if the book goes somewhere else.

[sachiko1309]

The Kings plaything - Part 1/2

Summary: After the dwarves have been captured, Thranduil decides to have a little fun with his wife, fulfilling his need to show of his greatest possesion.

Word count: 9223

Warnings: smut with plot, public fingering, exhibitionism, possessive Thranduil, Dom! Thranduil, sub! reader, slight hurt and angst because of something Thorin said, Minors DNI! This contains adult content

Pov Legolas:

The guards and I had captured the dwarfs that were mindlessly roaming through our lands. Right now, we had stripped them of their weapons and escorted them through the woods. Right before the big bridge that led towards the only door into Mirkwood, I stopped the parade, turning to look at the dwarves:

“You are now going to be brought in front of the king and his queen. Let me offer you some advice as to how to act in his presence. You bow when greeting him. You shall not speak unless asked to. Nor do you insult him or her majesty. And most importantly, don’t stare at her majesty.” I rattled down the points, but I was interrupted by the tallest dwarf, they addressed as their king: “Do not worry, none of us would want to see that disgusting elven pack of you anyway!”

Before I could even react, one of my guards already forced him to his knees, a blade against his throat. That seemed to enrage the others, a slight turmoil breaking out. I waited until my guards settled it, before I spoke again: “Careful of your words dwarf. She is the kings most precious possession. You do not want to anger him, by looking at her or insulting her even.”

One dwarf pressed himself through the ranks, until he stood right in front of me. He wasn’t reaching much above my waist and I had to suppress the instinct of kneeling down like I would do with a kid. “Why are we not to look at her?” He asked, nothing but curiosity filling his big brown eyes. I suppressed a laugh, still a small sly smile crossed my lips. “Things are run differently here. You will see for yourself.”

Then I just turned, not waiting for the dwarves to follow me. I knew my guards would simply force them to.

Pov Elanore:

I was sitting next to Thranduils throne beneath his feet on my pillow. It was my usual place between his legs, leaning against one of his thighs and relishing in his soft touches while covered in his cloak. Ever since I had married him some decades ago, we had slowly dipped more into showing our relationship openly. Knowing that the elves were a race loving their routines, the king openly showing his affection caused some stir. Especially, when that affection was interlaced with our power play.

But after a while the people had gotten used to it, even smiling a bit, when he softened around me. It wasn’t often for the king to show his softer side openly, but when he did, he usually did it for me. Legolas once thanked me, that I had brought his father out of his shell. Even though he did not quite understand our relationship, he accepted me as his father’s new wife, soon becoming my partner in crime when it came to wreaking havoc.

I never wanted to replace his mother and I told him so. Legolas didn’t seem to mind either way, soon starting to teasingly call me naneth and over time the name got stuck.  

A guard racing down the hall and stopping in front of us breathless, made me turn my head to look at him. He bowed deeply, his eyes quickly washing over my face, before he looked at the floor in front of him. It was common for the guards and common people to not look at me and after I had pressed Thranduil deeply on the matter, he had admitted to make it a general rule not to stare at me. His harsh demeanor the earlier centuries still sitting deeply, that most elves took it literally and refused to look at me. The only exceptions being Legolas and Tauriel.

“My king.” The guard started. “Your son and some guards have captured a group of 13 dwarves wandering our forest. They are now on their way to be brought in front of you.”

“Is that so?” Thranduil cued, caressing my hair with a soft growl in his voice. “How long are they going to take until their arrival?”

“Not long, my king. They have already made it to the gate.” The guard answered. Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “Thank you. You can leave now.” Waving the guard off, he looked down on me. “It looks like we are about to have guests, little ithil.” Then he opened his legs. “Join me on the throne. A queen must rule besides her king.”

Quickly getting up from my place, I sorted my dress to make it look more presentable. It was made out of thin silk, a soft blue touch to it. During the time I was staying in Mirkwood, I only wore my inside clothes, that Thranduil himself very carefully picked. The dresses he picked for me to wear were far from hiding my body. Rather the opposite. Their light and see through fabric accentuating my curves, doing nothing in hiding my breasts or core from other peoples eyes.

“I am not wearing anything appropriate.” I argued, trying my best to ruffle the dress to cover the dark circles of my nipples that clearly shone through the silk. “Nonsense, meleth. You are wearing just the right dress.” Thranduil said, stopping my hands and smoothing the fabric over my breasts. His soft touches to my nipple made me sigh in pleasure and he smiled. “You are my queen. Mine to protect and cherish. Whenever I am at your side, the world shall see what a beauty lies beneath those fabrics.”

Then he fidgeted with his pants, tying them lose and signaling me to sit on his lap. My eyes widened, when I saw him freeing his cock, that was already leaking precum. “No…” I whispered, but he just pulled me towards him. Simply spreading my legs, he pulled me on top of him so that I was straddling his lap, my back towards him. Beneath my heat, I could feel his cock stroking through my folds. “You are always so wet for me, melethril.” He groaned, taking my shoulder and pushing me down on his cock.

I yelped in surprise and the slight pain the stretch brought with it. But Thranduil didn’t react to it. He simple sorted my feet to dangle besides his thighs, so that I now had no leverage of pushing me up from the throne. “You will stay right here and warm my cock, you understand?” He growled into my ear, biting the skin of my neck right beneath it.

“Yes, my king.” I whispered, leaning back onto his chest. My actions made him chuckle slightly. “You are such a good little girl for me. All it takes is my cock inside of you and you are already forgetting your worries.”

Sorting the dress between my legs, he made sure the two cut outs were delicately laid out to show my legs. Reaching up to my hips and slightly my waist the fabric closed again, just the edges of my hipbones peaking through. A dark blue leather belt securing the dress around my waist and keeping the fabric tight around my chest to not only show my hard nipples through it, but also prevent my breasts from falling out of my cleavage.

What I did not expect was Thranduil sneaking his right hand beneath the fabric of my legs, putting his fingers on my clit. With slow movements, he collected some of my slick that had run out of my core, spreading it over his fingers and my pearl. I couldn’t help myself but moan out his name. “Yes, my little petal. Let them hear you.” Thranduil whispered cockily in my ear and I clasped a hand in front of my mouth, which he quickly took away again. “Oh no, my sweet darling. You are my queen. You do not hide.”

“But you cant just…” My argument was shut down by another moan rolling off my lips, this time a bit quieter, but still clearly hearable for elven ears. “I can and I will.” Thranduil retorted. “I am the king. I can do with my plaything whatever I want and whenever I want it. Not even you will keep me from it.”

I wanted to say something, but the faint thrumming of several pairs of feet made me bite my tongue, trying my best to keep my face straight even though Thranduil had not stopped his soft touches on my core. He was not moving inside of me and thanked the spirits for it, as I would not have been able to keep quiet otherwise. I knew it was obvious for everyone what was happening on the kings throne, but none of the guards reacted openly, even though I thought to have seen some smirks quickly cross their faces.

My dress didn’t do much to hide my growing arousal, my nipples hard and stiff against the silk, Thranduils rings still glittering through the fabric between my legs. And to my dismay, he brushed his free hand over my breasts, making my head roll back onto his shoulder. “That’s it, gilgalad. Feel me.” He cued into my ear, kissing my neck and my cheek. “I will make you come and you will let me, understand?”

“Yes, my king.” I yelped out, closing my eyes at the tingly feeling, that started to slowly build inside of me. With another flick of his fingers, he made me twitch around his cock, growling slightly. “Just like that, darling.” Then his attention shifted from me towards the dwarves that stomped through the halls. Even though they were almost half the size of the elves, their steps were loud and unflattering to the ear, making me shiver and clench my jaw at the interruption.

Thranduil of course noticed, kissing my ear. “They should have taken of their shoes. But then again, I can just make them stop walking. The smell on the other hand I cant control.” I chuckled at his words, my shaking body causing his cock to hit my sweet spot deep inside of me. I yelped, biting my tongue. The hot feeling inside of my body suddenly becoming more prominent.

“Adar.” Legolas voice ripped me out of my fogged up brain and I looked at him. A smile crept on his lips, as he shamelessly stared between my legs. I tried to close them, but Thranduil kept me in place with a slight slap on my clit. I hissed out, clenching around his cock in revenge. But unlike me, the king did not react besides a slight tilt of the head.

“Legolas.” He greeted his son, shuffling a bit on this throne to look at the group in front of us properly. “I see you have brought guests.”

“They were wandering around in the forest. We saved them from being killed by spiders.” Legolas explained, still not taking his eyes away from me. He knew it was a dangerous game to play, but being the son of Thranduil he obviously grew up to be as cocky. His father did also notice his staring, raising an eyebrow. “Something else, you want to add?”

Just like his father, Legolas tilted his head the same way. “Nothing of important matter.” A sly grin on his lips, he leaned against a pillar behind him. Thranduil just scoffed, slightly speeding up the movements of his fingers. He turned his attention towards the dwarves and I could feel him suck in a deep breath.

“Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór king under the mountain.” He greeted the tallest dwarf, who immediately puffed his chest, looking him straight in the eyes. “King Thranduil.” Came the short answer, a suppressed anger in the dwarfs voice. Thranduil did not openly react to it, just letting his left hand delicately brush over my nipples again. Taking the left one between his fingers, he tugged on it, making me involuntarily moan out.

“Tell me dwarf. What is the matter of your visit?” He asked, not even caring to look at the other man, studying my face as it contorted in pleasure. The answer that followed would have cost the dwarf his head, would it not have been for me to sit on Thranduils lap: “We came to seek aid, because unlike you, we have much more important things to do than pleasure a little mistress.”

Immediately two guards had the dwarf on his knees, dragging him closer to the throne, while the others aimed their weapons at the group. “Watch your mouth, scum. This is the queen you are talking about.” One guard growled, harshly tilting Thorins head back, so he was forced to look at the king. Thranduil just smiled one of his arrogant but angry smiles: “What would your people know of pleasuring a woman? Clearly there is not much desirable about your kin.”

And while he was reprimanding the dwarf in front of him, he once again sped up his finger play on my core. The other hand now openly gripping my breasts, tugging on my nipples, until I couldn’t help myself but become a moaning and shivering mess on his lap. The people in front of me faded out of my brain, my focus only on the kings touches and his cock sheathed deep inside of me.

Warm desire, syrupy and all-consuming, filled my stomach. Lust clouding my thoughts. He made it difficult for me to do more than groan, desperate for his touch, as the anxiety I had felt dissipated with each swipe of his fingers. I didn’t care where I was and who was all watching me slowly but surely come undone in the king’s lap. My mind was way too fogged up with the tingly feeling that started to spread from my center towards every string in my body.

I closed my eyes, my head lulling back onto Thranduils shoulders, nails gripping his arm. “Oh god, please. This feels so good.” I moaned, my voice slurred and shaky. The only thing I could focus on was the searing warmth between my legs. Time seemed to still as everything but this, everything but being filled to the brim, ceased to exist. I was tumbling closer to the edge, as my cries were reduced to nothing more than his name. Thranduil didn’t seem to mind one bit either, every cry that left my lips spurring him on further.

“I got you.” Thranduil promised, pressing me impossibly closer to his chest. He pushed me higher and higher, not caring about anything else than my pleasure. Forcing my head back to look at him, I gasped at the sudden possessiveness that overruled everything in him. I could see it in his eyes. They were dark and blown with lust, trained on my face, taking in every twitch of my expression, feeding his arrogance with it.

And then it happened. I barreled over the edge, vision turning black at the edges and lips parting. Thranduils mouth met mine, swallowing my cries of pleasure, noises he knew would still be ringing undeniably loud through the halls. His actions drew a gasp from my lips, the warmth of my orgasm searing through me from within as I clenched around his cock. That had him nipping at my bottom lip in a warning, though a lazy grin betrayed him. “Watch it, nin iell.” He teased. “You don’t want to end it that quickly do you?”

“No!” I yelped, tugging his hand away from my center as I could feel the overstimulation turning unbearable. “Good girl.” Thranduil growled behind me. “Because you take what I give you, like the good little slut you are, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, my king.” My voice was shaky, barely above a whisper and he took it as a sign to let go of me. Just holding me at my hips, he turned to look at the kneeling dwarf before him. “Excuse me. What was it that you wanted?” The sheer arrogance, that laced his words was filling the air, dripping onto the floor, and poisoning everything it touches. Thorin took a deep breath, clearly biting down the words he wanted to say. “Aid, my king.” He repeated between gritted teeth, shaking the hands of the elven guards from his shoulder and standing back up.

Thranduil leaned himself to the side, gently resting his chin on his fingers, as he watched the dwarves. “Some may imagine that noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk.”

Thorin did not say anything, but his lips twitched slightly, obviously not going unnoticed by my husbands eyes. Thranduil, tapped my hip, before he simply heaved me from his lap, making me stand in front of him as a shield. After he had sorted himself, he stepped down the stairs, while I took my seat in his throne, cuddling into his warm cloak, watching the interrogation unfold in front or my eyes.

Thranduil stopped besides Thorin, leaning down on his eye level. “You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you. The right to rule. The kings jewel. The Arkenstone” His words made Thorin look aside, while Thranduil slowly stepped back, stopping in front of me, his eyes still fixated on Thorin. Keeping on talking, he slowly entangled the plan of the dwarves. “It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that.” Looking at me with a smile.

“There are gems in the mountain, that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help.” Thranduil bowed his head. That made Thorin chuckle: “I am listening.” Immediately my husband stone changed, growing darker, a slight threat in his voice: “I will let you go. If you but return what is mine.”

Thorin turned, walking to the edge of the platform. “A favor for a favor.” And I could hear he did not trust one thing Thranduil was saying.

“You have my word.” My husband pressed on. “One king to another.”

“I would not trust Thranduil the great king to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us.” Thorin turned around, pointing a finger at my husband, before he started yelling again. “You lack all honor. I have seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once. Starving, Homeless. Seeking your help. But you turned your back. You turned away form the suffering of my people in the inferno that destroyed us. Imrid amrâd ursul!”

I gasped, as I heard Thorin wish a fiery death upon my husband. Jumping from my seat, I was about to yell at him, but Thranduil raised his hand, my light elven feet clearly too loud for his ears. Taking a step towards Thorin, he bent down once again. “Do not speak to me about dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin.” Knowing what he was about to do, I balled a fist, gripping tightly at his cloak, when I watched him reveal his scar. I could only see the outer edges that covered his chin.

“I have faced the great serpents of the north.” Thranduil pulled back, stepping closer to me. His whole demeanor changed. Was it before slightly arrogant but still willing to help. It was now hard and hateful. Something he rarely let me see. Still keeping his voice in check, he walked towards the stairs, giving me an apologetic look before turning back to Thorin. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. But he would not listen.”

Thranduil slowly walked up the steps and I shuffled to stand up, but he just signaled me to stay seated. Taking his stand next to me, hands clasped behind his back. “You are just like him.” Then he waved his arms. The guards immediately jumping to action, grabbing the dwarves. “Stay here if you will and rot. A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait.”

The guards were about to drag the dwarves of, when I rose from my seat. “Wait.” All action stopped, the dwarves looking at me with wide eyes. Slowly, I made my way down the stairs, stopping in front of Thorin. In comparison to Thranduil he looked tiny, but when I stood next to him, he reached up to my eyes. Looking me straight in the eyes, he challenged me by tilting his head. “Look at that. Thranduils little pet, decides to come to our aid. We do not need your help, woman.” He spat directly in front of me, missing my feet by mere inches.

“Careful of your words, dwarf. I am currently the only one between you and my husbands wrath.” I smiled, mimicking my husband as good as possible. It did not seem to help anything, as Thorin just chuckled. “Are you sure you are not a dwarf yourself? You barely outgrew me.”

“I am an elf.” I said, clenching my jaw. “And only a fool would underestimate his opponent that greatly. Are you perhaps a fool, dwarf?”

“I am no fool!” He yelled out and I couldn’t help but chuckle: “Oh my apologies. Your latest actions must have misled me.” Sighing I stepped around him, taking a closer look at the rest of the group. “You really should take my husbands offer. A small chest of white stones in exchange of an army. That is a small prize to pay, considering the wealth of that mountain.” The rest of the dwarves had agreeing looks on their faces, but none of them dared to speak up against their leader.

“Why are you so set on getting those stones? Is you wardrobe not full enough?” Thorin gritted out, the hate still very prominent in his face. I waved him off. “Ah, I do not care about jewels…”

“Your clothes speak different, woman.” He spat out, interrupting me. Slowly I was getting angrier at his antics, twirling around on my heels. But Thorin wasn’t finished making fun of me: “You walk around this realm. Clothed in nothing more than what can be called an excuse of clothing. A tease to everyone’s eyes and yet, your king enables it by ordering everybody to shy away their gaze. And still, everyone is able to see your form, covered in gemstones from head to toe and you dare to claim not to care about jewels? I bet you even have them stuck up your womanhood. That’s how greedy you are for them!”

“Take his head!” Thranduils voice thundered through the halls. His words making everyone gasp out in fear, the guards holding him, now forcing him down, a blade on his throat, ready to cut it at my command. I just raised my hand to stop them. “I do not need to answer your foul accusations, dwarf. But if you may know, those stones and dresses are a gift of my husband. I wear them, to please his eye and only his. As for his orders, I have asked him to at least loosen the punishments, and for our people he has. But you are an outsider. Clearly not able to respect a woman, so why should you be allowed to set eye on her?” Stepping closer to him, I looked him deep into the eyes, before carrying on: “And for those white stones. They were an heirloom of his late wife. They hold great worth to him.”

Thorins lips contorted into a wicked grin. “An heirloom of his late wife. Look at that. The second one defending her husband. To blind to see, he will never love her the way he did with his first. Tell me how does it feel to always be second? To always be reminded of the woman he lost? The mother of his son?” That’s when it snapped in me.

I slapped him across the face, my eyes squinted in anger and I had to physically hold back my voice to not yell at him: “I have given you another chance. Offered you a way out. And yet you stand here, still spitting on the help we offer. Spitting on Legolas mother. There is no competition between us. I know he loved her with all his heart and there is still love in there for her, but that does not dull his love for me. I can see that you are bitter. Too bitter to see the good around you. Your people will die because of your wrathful greed. You lead them into death by dragon fire just because you are to arrogant to accept help. I might not have met many dwarves, but you, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, king under the mountain are clearly the most arrogant and hateful one.”

Then I looked at the guards. “Finish my husbands order. Take them to the dungeons. Let them rot.” Turning on my heels again, I made my way away from the throne. One the one hand to give my mind peace and to hid the tears that were about to form in my eyes. Thorins words had hit dead center. I knew I should not doubt Thranduils love for me, but still. A part of me, was contemplating whether he was still hanging on his late wife or not. I did not really look where I was going, letting my feet carry me through the kingdom halls. The tears had now pressed themselves to the surface, rolling down my cheeks in big paths and making my vision blurry.

When I stopped, I realized I was in my old chambers. The one I had moved into centuries ago, when I stumbled into Mirkwood by accident. Originally, I was an elf of Imraldis. Elronds cousin to be exact, but I wanted to see the world before I was to marry. My path bringing me into the woods of Mirkwood. What I did not know, was the severity of the spiders. Underestimating the danger, I soon found myself surrounded by five of them, a venomous bit in my left shoulder. I must have passed out, because the next thing I remembered was Legolas and another elf leaning over me and caring for my wound.

After I had healed, I was brought before the king. He offered me shelter and I had taken his offer gladly. Not knowing who I was, I simply took a role as a soldier of Mirkwood, going on patrol with Legolas to keep the borders safe. It took several years, before Elrond had figured out where I went. With the cause to bring me back, he stormed into the halls, demanding to know why the king would let his cousin do such a dangerous job. Thranduil not knowing let to a big fight between the normally very close elves. And after I had refused to go home with Elrond, I was taken from my patrol and sorted to do the more strategic part of military tasks. My new role forcing me to work closer with the king and slowly we became friends. That friendship turned into love and Thranduil started to court me until we finally got married.

I was too caught up with my tears and the memories streaming into my brain, that I did not hear the footsteps approaching me from behind. So, when a hand touched me, I whirled around ready to fight. Btu strong arms held me close, the strong smell of pine, red berries and a hint of frozen mint entangling me, announcing the person holding me as my husband. “Shhh don’t cry, meleth. Please. There is no need…”

“No need?” I yelled, tripping over my own words. “He read my like a book just by looking at me. Every word of his is true!”

“Not all of them.” Thranduil calmly stated. It made me reel out in wicked laughter, the tears streaming down my red cheeks before dropping onto my chest. “Oh spare me. I know you love your late wife. You always had and you always will. I am merely a distraction for you, one you grew to love the image of rather than the truth.”

“Meleth…” He started, but I just stepped out of his hold. “No, Thranduil. Don’t call me that ever again.” My words visibly made him angry, but he held back, letting me speak my mind: “We have lived a lie. A dream. Me too blind to see and you to torn by your feelings to understand the truth. You long for your late wife everyday. That’s why you keep distracting yourself with dressing me up, so that you don’t have to look me in the eye and see I am not her. And I let you do it. To stupid to see the poison it brought to my body, believing it was just your way of loving me.”

“That’s what you think?” His voice was quiet. A slight tremble to it.

“I know it is.” I simply answered, not daring to look at him.

“So, you want this to end? Just because a bitter dwarf told you to?” He asked, angrily taking of his crown and throwing it against the wall. It splattered into thousands of tiny pieces, scattering around the floor. “That’s how much I love you. I would give up all of this, to be with you. Why don’t you see that?” He started to take of his jewels, throwing them against the wall as well. And with every piece of stone that shattered, a piece of my heart broke, until I couldn’t help myself but sink to my knees.

He was by my side immediately. “Listen to me, bereth. As it might be true, that I deeply loved my wife and that I still hold her very dearly. It means nothing compared to you. She is the mother of my child. You are the light of my life. I love you with all my heart and I want to spent eternity with you. Don’t listen to the words of that dwarf, as he knows nothing about love.”

I was still doubtful. The words of Thorin still present in my ears. “You just say that to keep me as your wife.”

Thranduil rose back to his feet, now angrily pacing through the room. “If its that what you want, we shall separate. I cannot divorce you because of our social standing. But I shall leave you be. You will be cared for and every wish shall be fulfilled, but I will never bother you again.” He forced his hands through his hair, making it all messed up, before he looked at me again: “I do not say things lightly and you know that. I have lived thousands of years to see people fall in and out of love. And if you are… Then so shall it be.”

There he was again. The cold king I had met centuries ago. The stiff shell of what he once was, hiding behind power and coldness. It broke my heart seeing him like that and the pull I felt inside of me, made me realize how wrong I was about him. About us. Before he could turn to leave, I sprung to my feet, grabbing his hand. “I am sorry.”

He stilled in his movements, tilting his head to look at me, his gaze harsh and unmoving. “I am sorry.” I repeated. “I was not thinking clearly… Thorins words… They were so hard, so… real. It made my mind underestimate your love for me. Please forgive me, herven. I… I always fear you will leave me one day. Realizing it meant nothing for you. And when he said that… It all became so real, so true. I could not bear the thought of you leaving me, so I fled. Making myself believe that if I were the one to decide, it would not be so harsh on my mind.”

A soft smile crept up his lips, before he took me in a long and warm embrace, wrapping his cloak around us both. “Oh, you stupid little girl. Why did you not tell me about your fears? I would have done more to show you otherwise.”

“Don’t call me a little girl.” I grumbled against his chest, hitting him with my fist. That only caused him to laugh out loud. “But you are. Merely overtaking dwarfs by half a head. Just a little more than a decade older than my son.”

“That is only shining a bad light upon you. Grooming an elleth that is the age of your child. You should be arrested for sacrilegious acts.” I teased, slowly gaining my confidence back. I looked up, only to be met with Thranduils love sick blue eyes watching me intently. At my words he raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? I believe you should stop me then. Or do you perhaps relish in the way I am corrupting you?”

I was speechless. My mouth opening and closing without the words coming out. My brain was mushy, melting under his strong gaze. That only seemed to spur him on even more. “Are you falling out of words, pîn iell?” Letting his hands slowly graze down my body until they reached my thighs, he lifted me up. Out of instinct I wrapped my legs around his waist, feeling the bulge of his pants pressing against my core. His expression turned smug, when he saw my nipples again peaking through the thin fabric. “You don’t have to say it. Your body speaks enough.”

With that he carried me out of the room, but we didn’t get far, as he crashed us into the next wall, his lips feverish on mine. I sighed deeply, when I felt him press against me as desperate as I was. Letting my hands wander through his hair, I pulled on the strands that normally were very orderly sorted on his head. But now I had turned them into a mess. “Thranduil…” I moaned, pressing myself even closer to him.

“I got you, meleth. I am here. You are safe.” He groaned against my lips.

“Bed.” I breathed out and he chuckled. “Which one? Ours or just any bed?”

“I hate you.” I said, leaning my face against his chest to hide the blush creeping onto my cheeks. He took my chin into his hand, softly turning it, so that I had to look him into the eyes. His blue orbs were burning with desire and lust, making me speechless. “I am the king. I own every bed in this realm. So, if you should ever desire something else than ours, you shall have it. Besides. I would not mind fucking you on any bed or surface. By Valar, I would even fuck you in front all of my people to show how much I love you.”

“I figured.” I retorted, cockily. “What even was that back in the throne room? I know you are a possessive man, but that was something new. Even for you.” He smirked, tilting his head. “How do you thing I have managed to stay sane over all those years? A creature living this long needs to be creative to make life worth living.”

“Mhm. Sure. And now what's the truth?” I asked, not falling for his sly answer. “I was just incredible horny for my wife.” He whispered into my ear, causing goosebumps to erupt on my skin. “So horny, that you would bring me to an orgasm in front of our guests?” I breathed, holding onto his shoulders. “Yes.” Was all he said, before he pressed his lips onto mine once again.

A scattering sound made us flinch apart, only to see a young servant standing in the middle of the hall, a load of books spread to his feet. “My king, my queen.” He bowed deeply, before he sunk to his knees to grab the books. “I am so sorry for interrupting, I did not intent to walk here, but I got lost on my way back to the library. Please forgive me.”

Quickly I shuffled out of Thranduils hold, kneeling besides the servant. I helped him sort his books, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Its alright. You are new, are you not?”

“Yes, your majesty. I am a new scribe in the library.” He didn’t dare to look at me, his eyes trained onto the books. I sighed deeply, wondering what the older elves had told him would happen if he were to look at me. “You know you can look me into the eyes.” I chuckled, ignoring the low huff of my husband behind me.

“I am not to look at the queen. That’s what I have been told by Cabron.” He answered. “He said I would be thrown into the dungeon where my eyes would be poked out and I was to rot to death.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Do not fear me or the wrath of my husband. Cabron is a very… lets say teasing ellon. He was just messing with you. The rule is not to stare at me, looking me in the eyes, when I speak with you is fine.”

“Its not.” Thranduil grumbled behind me, but I shushed him. “Don’t listen to him. He is particularly grumpy today, as he had a run in with dwarves.” Then I stepped next to him. “If you want to the library, you walk down that corridor, take the first left turn, follow the path to the end and then turn right. After that you should be close enough to the library to know.”

The servant bowed again. “Thank you, your majesty.” Then he ran off the way I described to him. Looking at Thranduil, I raised an eyebrow. “Look at what you are doing to the young ellons. The older elves might understand your words in their meaning, but they are using it to torment the young ones.” He didn’t seem to be bothered one bit. “What a shame…” Slowly stalking towards me, a grin spread over his face. “That makes me think of something I said earlier.”

“And what would that be?” I asked breathless, fleeing backwards from my husband. The grin on his lips turning more wolfish with every step he took. “I shall take you where anyone can hear you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” I shrieked; my eyes wide in shock.

“Oh, and how I would. And I will teach that scum of a dwarf a lesson.” He stopped his prowl, looking at me as if he was thinking about something. And then he yelled at me: “RUN!”

Before I even completely comprehended his words, my body reacted to his command. Gathering my skirt, I turned on the spot, fleeing down the hall, Thranduil hot on my heels. I was giggling like a little child, as I raced through the kingdom. Elves forced to jump aside, looking after us, as we passed them. Soon I was caught between a stone wall, the cliff of a path just above the dungeons and Thranduil blocking my only way out. Trying my best to catch my breath, I leaned against the wall, forcefully slowing my breathing. Then realization dawned on my face: “You routed me here…”

“I did.” There was no regret in his voice, the sly smile still present on his lips. His shoulders were heaving in big breaths, the fabric of his tunic stretching across his chest and arms as he flexed them against the wall. Slowly stalking towards me, he forced me deeper into the dungeon, until my back hit the wall. I looked to the side and down the cliff. Beneath me, I could see the dwarves being captured in their cells. Thorin looking right back at me.

He was about the same height we were currently at, the others of his company below us or him, unable to see what was happening. That didn’t keep them from listening. “Thorin. What's going on up there.” A young voice called out. Thorin’s face contorted, as he answered. “Nothing, Kili. Just the elven king giving into the desire of his flesh once more.”

“What does that even mean?” Kili asked, another voice, very similar to his answered him: “It means the elven king is about to fuck his wife just above you, you moron.”

“Fili!” Thorin thundered, but I couldn’t help but laugh. Even Thranduil had a sly smile on his lips, securely hidden from the dwarves.

“It seems like you have pulled our guests attention, nin iell.” He cockily said and I knew that he was staging a play. Tilting my head, I played along: “Good thing you are here to prevent me from any more danger.”

“Indeed.” He said, letting his eyes shamelessly run over my body. Then with one big last step, he closed the distance between us, picking me up once more. “Thranduil!” I yelped out, clutching at his arms and wrapping my legs around him. He tightened his arms around me, pressing me against the wall. It caused me to make a soft noise, something between a moan and a purr.

Thranduil grinned wolfishly, as one hand wandered from my face, down my shoulder, gripping the belt of my dress. And with one sharp tug, he ripped it from my body. I gasped at his sudden show of violence, the dress falling open. It was one of his favorite dresses. Basically, one long piece of fabric cut into two strands one side up to the middle. To wear it, I simply laid the two strands above my body, while the single strand covered my back. Then I wore a belt to safely secure it around my waist, sorting the fabric over my chest. Now those two strands were flaring widely open, only held between my legs.

Letting the belt fall to the ground, Thranduil gripped the fabric of the dress, slowly pulling it out between us, before he disregarded it onto the floor as well. Now I was naked, my back pressed against the cold stone wall.

“Please.” I begged, making the elf before me hoarsely chuckle, his teeth were grazing my earlobe, biting it gently.

“Please, what?” He asked as he pulled away, his eyes now dark with lust and desire.

“Please touch me.” I breathlessly whispered. It was all he needed. Without wasting any second, his lips captured mine, locking them in the most passionate and fiery way he could muster. The feeling of his lips against mine was enough to knock the air out of my lungs, not to mention the force of his tongue inside my mouth, it was enough to have my mind reeling.

He gently put me down, leaning me against the wall, as he knelt in front of me. Spreading his cloak on the floor to give some warmth from the cold stone. Patting the fabric in front of him, he looked at me with the uttermost desire I had ever seen a man look at me with. Fully aware of Thorins eyes upon me, I walked around Thranduil, taking my place on the ground beneath him. A sly grin on his lips, he shuffled between my legs, throwing one last glance to the dwarf watching us, before he simply dove down.

“Oh my GOD!” His tongue traced my clit lightly, barely giving much stimulation, but even that was enough to make my legs starting to quiver.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, how I love seeing you like this. All ready for me.” Thranduil snickered, his eyes trained on the spot between my legs. I could feel my wetness slowly dripping out of my core, running down onto his cloak. “To bad, a certain dwarf had to interrupt me fucking you on my throne. Making you the queen you were born to be. I would have fucked my seed so deep inside of you. Taking you until you are begging for me to stop.  Making you a crying mess for everyone to hear. And then I would have carried you back to our chambers, my cum leaking out of your pretty little pussy.”

I whined at his words, my body instinctively arching. “You are so needy for me. My beautiful little slut.” Playing with my folds, he pulled another moan from my lips. Forcing them into me, he curled them once more, finding my sweet spot just so easily, reaching places I couldn’t reach myself. “This pussy belongs to me, you hear me?”

“Yes.” I breathed out, my voice high pitched from the pleasure he was once again granting me.

“Yes what?” He snarled, his blue eyes squinting with a slight threat that shot the heat right between my legs.

“Yes, my king.” I mewled. “Please. I need you. Please…” Sounding like a needy child, I cried out for him, spreading my legs further to coax him in. He stopped moving his fingers inside of me, slowly pulling them out. “Do it again. Beg for it. I know you want to.”

“Thranduil…” My moan was reflected by the walls, traveling through the halls up to the throne room. “Please, my king. I need you. I want you to take me. Make me your queen, please…” Without a warning, he lined his cock up with my entrance, bottoming out in one go. I yelped at the pain of being stretched so suddenly, but it soon subsided, when he started his slow and passionate pace. He wanted to take his time. Relish in the moment.

I was a quivering mess beneath him. My eyes rolling back into my head, lips hanging open, hands gripping at everything they felt. He growled above me, causing my eyes to snap open. Like a ravenous predator, his eyes captured mine. A desire burning inside of them that only he could produce. “Please…” I whimpered once again, now completely pushed into submission by his demeanor. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. Then he turned my head towards the cliff. “Look at him.” Thranduil ordered and I opened my eyes, seeing Thorin stand in his cell. His hands harshly gripping the metal rods of the door.

Thranduil tapped my lips with his fingers and I obediently opened my mouth, taking his long digits down my throat. I choked on their length, but forced down the gag reflex. “Hands above your head.” He ordered and I quickly moved them where he wanted them. His response was taking them into his big hand, the pace switching from slow to a more moderate speed, knocking the air out of my lungs.

My head hung back, my lips being parted by his fingers, drool running down my cheeks, as I gave myself to him. The searing heat returning, starting between my legs and slowly burning its way through every fiber of my body. Soon my moans were accompanied by his groans, the sound of him growling my name and cursing in elvish dragging me towards the edge in record speed. I tried to ask for more, but his fingers restrained me from forming a coherent sentence. With a knowing grin, he let go of my mouth, looking at me challengingly: “What is it, nin iell?”

“M… More.” I moaned out. “Please. I need more.” He hummed at my request, bending down to kiss me. “Hmmm. My little petal. So eager to be fucked. Wishing to be ruined by her king.” He murmured between kisses, smothering every inch of my body he could reach. Unable to even process his words, he caught me by surprise, when he took my right leg and threw it over his shoulder, the space now enabling him to pound into me even deeper.

“Thranduil!” I cried out, twitching beneath him and trying to get away from his harsh thrusts. His cock hitting me deeply and perfectly on my sweet spot, to an extend that I wasn’t sure if it was still pleasure that shot through my body. “This was what you requested, was it not?” He cued and I couldn’t help but mewl. “It is what you begged me for. To give you more, isn’t that right, gilgalad?”

Trying my hardest to answer him, I opened my lips, bit my sentence got ripped away by the sudden moan that rushed through my lips. Even though I was staring at my husband, I wasn’t really able to focus on anything in particular. All my attention laying on the feelings he freed deeply in my body. “There… Please…” My words were slurred and hasty, my brain drunken from the pleasure overtaking my body. “Here?” He cockily asked, repeating the exact movement that had me reeling in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation. “Or perhaps here?” Dragging his free hand over my body, he pinched my nipples hard, before he let his fingers wander lower. Circling my clit with soft little touches, he watched me, as I fell apart.

Searing hot the fire rushed through my veins. I tried to warn him from my upcoming orgasm, but my body was faster than my mind. My walls clamping down around his cock, I shakily came undone beneath him, the cry of his name ringing through the halls and echoing in the distance. A string of elvish curse words left my husband, my hip now marked in a new red bruise of his hand. But he didn’t falter in his thrusts. Relentlessly pounding into me, knowingly overstimulating me in the chase of his own release.

“I… Cant… Please… cant…” I cried out, but he cut me off with a hand around my throat. “Take it.” He growled. “I know you can. Be a good girl for me and take my cock.” His eyes were burning dark, the wild lust flaming through his pupils. And then he squeezed my throat, watching me, as my eyes rolled back into my head once more. The cry of his name, caught in my throat, my body overshooting with bliss and a blinding fire.

Trembling. That’s what I was able to do and not much more. My frame buried beneath the king, as he captured my swollen lips with his, only giving me short allowances of air. My vision got blurry, a tingly feeling spreading through my limps and I nearly missed the second wave of hot pleasure racing through my body. Thranduil of course noticed by the way my walls were gripping him once more. “Come.” He demanded. “Come for me again.”

It was all I needed to hear, when he let go of my throat, supporting his weight on both of his arms, letting go of my hands. Shattering around him a second time, I gripped his shoulders, pressing myself against his frame to find something to ground me against the violent shivers that overtook my body. It was blinding and breathtaking, as I released the blistering heat in my body with a cry of his name, that was surely heard in all Mirkwood.

I barely noticed him being brought to his own release, the stuttering pulse of my walls, finally pulling him over the edge as well. A growl on his lips, he captured my mouth with his, forcing me into a heated and passionate kiss. The once harsh and fervent snaps of his hips melted into soft bucks, rolling against my core until he slowly came to a stop.

It took him a few moments to find his composure again, but when he did, he slowly pulled out of me and I couldn’t help myself but curse. “I am sorry, meleth nin.” He whispered, stroking the hair out of my face. “I should have been softer on you.” Looking over my body, he let his hand rest against my core, cooling the heated flesh with his cold touch. Then he got up on his feet, and I only now realized, that he was still wearing all of his clothes. Smiling at him, I tried to get up, but he shook his head.

“Rest, meleth, I will take care of you.” Once he had his clothes sorted, he kneeled down next to me again, carefully wrapping his cloak around my shivering body, the coldness of the dungeons slowly creeping into my bones. “Thranduil…” I whimpered out, trying to reach out for him, but he shushed me immediately. “Its alright, little ithil. I got you.” Then he turned to grab my dress, but his action were interrupted by a sly grin. Handing me the belt, he crumpled the fabric into a ball. Getting up to his feet, he hurled it across the distance, directly between two metal rods of Thorins cell and directly into his face.

“Keep it as a reminder of your place, dwarf.” Thranduil gritted out between his teeth an arrogant and possessive smile on his lips. Thorin looked as surprised as I was, but his expression quickly turning sour. “You will pay for this, elf!” He yelled, but Thranduil just chuckled. “We will see about that.” Picking me up from the ground, he made his way through the dungeon and up the little pathways. In the distance I could still hear Thorin cursing us out in Khuzdul, his voice quickly fading into nothing more than a quiet background noise…

On our way back to our chambers, we passed several elves all of which carried a sly smile on their lips, that could have rivaled my husband himself.

Part 2:

#fem reader #smut #fluff #slight angst #thranduil x reader #thranduil smut #thranduil #lotr #the hobbit

[nardaviel]

i commissioned this absolutely stunning art from @the-phantom-peach for my shuake roleswap au!! it illustrates a lil moment i wrote about, which is under the readmore (beware sad feelings):

--------

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Grow it."

"Amamiya—"

Ren had looked tired that evening. Shadows dark as bruises under his eyes, less performative bounce in his movements. But he'd still texted Goro asking to meet, and he'd still smiled at him as he spoke, potted sunflower plant held out in offering. "If I got you cut flowers, they'd just die. This way you're stuck with them."

"I could just put the whole thing in the trash."

Goro would go back and swallow the words if he could. But back then, he'd just wanted to get under Ren's skin, to see if it was possible more than anything. It didn't happen that night; Ren's eyes crinkled with amusement, like they always did when Goro was curt.

"But I spent so long picking it out. I checked whether it's safe for cats and everything."

When in retrospect, it's clear that he'd known Morgana wasn't a cat at all. The little shit.

Goro stares at the dwarf sunflower plant growing contentedly on his windowsill. What was Ren's message with it, he thinks distantly, beyond the obvious flirtation. He's wondered that for months, turning over the question in his mind when he should've been sleeping, studying hanakotoba, but he never came to any conclusions and it never occurred to him to ask, so now he'll be thinking about it forever. Endlessly, stretching on into the distant future, while he gets older and goes to university and becomes an adult, and the world forgets Ren Amamiya ever existed. Why did he even bother saving such a country? Let it fucking rot.

I'll never forget him. I'll die carrying his memory.

Goro means the vow with all his determination, every atom of his will and all the choked grief still gathering in his chest like blood in a wound that's been stitched too soon. But it doesn't matter whether he means it or not. It's not enough. Too little too late; the pitiful offering of the one who let Ren die. Ren took his glittering gaze and his pointed wit and his labyrinthine mysteries and his constant, inexplicable affection, and he shattered them all on the Velvet Room floor. No amount of remembrance will undo that.

#shuake #p5 #need to make a roleswap au tag ......... #sunflower roleswap au #tag created #my post

[runesandramblings]

Intended

Word Count: 4600

Pairings: Fili x reader

Warnings: None

Description: Abandoned by Fili in the Blue Mountains after the quest to Erebor, you accepted the hand of another. But when you arrive in the kingdom under the mountain months later, you find that things were not as you believed.

“Fi, I really don’t know about this.” 

You stuck your head out of the doorway to your chambers and looked hesitantly down the hall. It didn’t appear as though anyone were around to hear your conversation, but you could never be too certain. Every wall in Erebor seemed to have ears; gossip traveled around the kingdom like wildfire. 

Fili only grinned at you in response. 

“Come on, (Y/N). Has age truly made you this precautious? You used to be so much more fun.” 

You grimaced at him as you checked both ends of the corridor again for lurking busybodies. 

“We were children, Fili. We’re grown now. Besides, how would it look for a betrothed woman to be sneaking off with a dwarf who is not her intended?” 

It was Fili’s turn to grimace at the mention of your fiance. He had made it known on more than one occasion that he was not overly fond of your soon to be husband, in spite of the fact that the same man was a distant cousin of his. The engagement was the only reason you were even in Erebor to begin with. 

“It used to be your favorite thing to do, you know. Back in the Blue Mountains.” He continued, doing his best to urge you out of the front door. 

You smiled wistfully as you thought of your home. Sure, Erebor was the ancestral home of your people. But the Blue Mountains had been where you were born and raised. Although you were sure you would grow to love Erebor in time, there was something about it that felt cold and unwelcoming. It had only been six months since the kingdom had been reclaimed, and construction was still heavily underway to rebuild the mountain. You had tried to give it the benefit of patience; surely it would all come together and feel as glorious as you’d always been told it was. But right now it was all piles of stone, closed corridors, and strict rules – which had led to the conversation you were having with Fili. 

“Fili, your uncle will wring our necks if he catches us sneaking out. Curfew-”

“It’s a stupid rule.” Fili interrupted. “There’s not been a single disturbance since the battle for the mountain. Thorin worries too much.” 

You sighed, feeling defeat was imminent as you looked up into Fili’s shining eyes. You’d never successfully said no to him a day in your life. You had grown up alongside Kili and FIli in the mountains. Their mother Dis and your mother had become close friends after the dwarves had settled into their new homeland. Both had lost their husbands in the battle for Moria, and they’d been a support system for each other as they raised their young children. Dis and Thorin were like a second set of parents to you, and your mother was the same for Kili and Fili. Growing up the pair of them had always gotten you into loads of trouble, whether it be playing pranks on their uncle or sneaking off for adventures in the forest. It hadn’t changed as you got older, and well into your adolescent and young adult years the three of you had continued to be an inseparable, and insufferable, trio. 

“How would we even get out?” You asked quietly. 

Fili grinned as he realized he’d finally worn you down and extended his hand out for you to take. 

“You think I’ve been in this mountain for six months now and haven’t figured out all the secret passageways? Honestly, (Y/N). Do you know me at all?” He teased. 

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as he tugged on your hand and pulled you from your chambers and into the stone corridor. You tiptoed silently behind him as he led you down and around several narrow passageways, occasionally pulling you to duck behind pillars as members of the royal nightwatch patrolled the empty halls. Fili seemed to know the schedule and route they took, so avoiding watchful eyes was easy for the most part. 

You felt a flutter in your stomach as Fili gently squeezed your intertwined hands. The older you had gotten, the closer you two in particular had grown. There was a special bond the two of you had, something that even your mother and Dis seemed to pick up on. In your adulthood a flirtation had begun to grow between you. You’d certainly begun to look at him much differently as he grew into himself, and from the way you noticed him watching you it seemed he felt the same. The budding feelings were also noticed by both of your mothers, and on more than one occasion both Dis and your own mother had grilled you about your relationship with Fili. They seemed to be certain that you and Fili were each other’s Ones, and that at some point he would formally ask their permission to court you. 

It never happened, however. You’d never forget the chilly, spring morning when Fili had come to you and let you know that he and Kili were leaving to meet Thorin. They were going on a quest, he’d said. A dangerous journey to reclaim Erebor and bring their people home. You knew it was likely they might never return, and when he’d told you of his plans to leave you’d fully expected him to confess his feelings for you before he went, or at least make a promise to court you properly when he returned. He had not. He’d left the next morning, without so much as a hug goodbye. 

It hurt, deeply. A part of you grew resentful, hateful even. You’d cursed Fili for leaving the way he had, and sworn on your own life that if he did return you’d never speak to him again. Dis had insisted it was not the way it seemed. She’d assured you that Fili spoke so fondly of you, and the evening before he left he’d fretted himself sick over how to say goodbye to you. She’d seemed surprised that he left without a word, but she assured you it was not out of any ill will or malice. 

“You mean so much to him, nâtha.” She’d said, hugging you as you wept bitter tears into her shoulder. “He knows he might not return and the thought of telling you goodbye for what could be the last time tore him to pieces.” 

Your feelings of malice and anger had slowly dissipated the longer Fili was gone. You’d grown wistful, longing for the day he’d come back into the village and come knocking on your mother’s door. You dreamed of the time he would stroll into the room, take you into his arms, and declare his love for you.

“This way.” 

Fili’s voice cut through your thoughts and brought you back to reality. He released your hand and placed his on your lower back instead, guiding you through a narrow doorway that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. It was carved seamlessly into the stone, invisible to the naked eye as most dwarf doors were. 

“How-” You started. 

He winked as he pulled the door shut silently behind him. 

“I have my ways.” 

After a few moments of walking through near darkness you began to smell the scent of pine mingled with fresh, rain-tinged air. The tiny stone corridor led directly out into the forest. Pine trees stood tall around you, and you could hear the faint sound of a running brook. Moonlight spread over the small clearing, illuminating the ground in a pale light. 

“Wow.” You breathed. You inhaled deeply, filling your lungs with the scent of the fresh air. It had been weeks since you’d stepped outside, thanks to Thorin’s tight curfew for those who resided in Erebor. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed the moonlight until you saw it for the first time in so long. 

You looked over at Fili. The light of the full moon washed over him, illuminating his golden hair in an almost silvery glow. He was too busy also admiring the moon to see you admiring him. You felt a pang of guilt and regret course through you, and you couldn’t help but wish that it was he you were engaged to. 

After word had been sent back to the Blue Mountains that Erebor had been reclaimed, and that all thirteen members of Thorin’s company survived, you’d expected to hear from Fili. For weeks you’d waited for a letter, for some communication from him that he wanted to see you. It never came. You’d grown discouraged, and after months of silence you’d finally put Fili out of your mind. When an acquaintance of your family had reached out to your mother and proposed a match between their son, Barin, and you, you had accepted without a second thought. Despite your mother’s reluctance to wed you to a man you’d never met, you had assured her that you wanted to go. You had written back immediately, accepting the proposal, and within weeks you’d traveled to Erebor to meet your intended. The wedding plans had begun right away, and the date was set for a mere two months to the day you’d arrived.

Within hours of you arriving in the mountain, Fili had found out. He’d sought you out immediately, and in spite of the year since you’d seen each other he seemed thrilled to finally be around you again. He never brought up why he hadn’t said goodbye to you, or why he hadn’t written since they’d retaken the mountain. You tried to put it out of your mind as you rekindled your friendship. However you couldn’t deny that the questions had been gnawing at you ever since you’d arrived. Why hadn’t he come to see you before he left for the Shire? Why hadn’t he written to you once the mountain was won? Had you imagined everything forming between the two of you back home, before he’d left? 

“(Y/N)?”

Fili’s voice cut through your reverie once again. You turned to look at him. He was staring down at you, his eyes searching your face for some hint as to what was occupying your thoughts. His look was so gentle, almost wistful. You thought your knees might buckle underneath you if you stared back at him for too long. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, his voice soft. You felt yourself locked into his gaze, and it took every ounce of willpower you had not to stretch up onto your toes and kiss him right there. 

“A lot of things.” You said quietly. You desperately wanted to bring it up, to ask him all of the questions burning in your mind. 

“Such as?” He prompted. You felt his hand touch your elbow as he tugged at your sleeve, indicating he wanted you to sit underneath one of the towering pines with him. You obliged and sat down, legs crossed in the same unladylike fashion your mother had often scolded you for as a child. He sat beside you in the same position, close enough that your kneecaps brushed against each others.

You debated for several moments as he watched you, anticipating what you were going to say. 

“The wedding.” You lied finally, deciding not to bring up the questions you so desperately wanted to ask.

Fili’s face fell, and he quickly turned from looking at you to looking up at the moon through the trees. 

“Ah.” He said, keeping his attention focused elsewhere as he spoke. “What of it?” His tone was flat, disinterested. You knew it was probably the last thing he wanted to discuss. 

“Don’t sound so excited.” You muttered. You kept your own gaze focused on the exposed ground beneath your criss-crossed legs. You felt the familiar feelings of bitterness growing in your chest as you toyed with a few fallen twigs on the ground. It was his fault, anyway. The only reason you’d accepted a match with a man you barely knew was because he’d abandoned you in the Blue Mountains and not returned. Had he only come to see you before he left, or reached out after the battle, things would be very different. 

“No, I’m thrilled for you.” He said, though you could detect the falseness in his voice. “Barin is from a good family, I’m sure he’ll make a fine husband.”  You were sure the words were eating him alive as he spoke them. Fili hadn’t said one kind thing about him since he’d first learned of your engagement. 

You sat in silence for several agonizing moments, neither of you looking at each other. 

“Do you love him?” He asked finally. 

You felt your breath catch in your throat. Love. There was only one man you had ever loved, could ever see yourself loving. He was sitting beside you. No, you did not love your intended. But the one you truly loved had rejected you, abandoned you. 

“Love will come.” You said quietly, keeping your attention focused on the ground as you spoke. 

Several more moments of silence passed before Fili spoke again.

“And what if it does not?” 

You shrugged, declining to answer aloud. You hadn’t stopped to think for yourself what you would do if you could not find love for your betrothed. Dis and your mother had both voiced the same concerns. You’d been telling yourself that it would be alright for weeks, and you couldn’t stop to think now of what would happen if you were wrong. 

The two of you sat in silence for several long minutes before Fili began to speak again. He changed the subject, to your relief, and began to tell you stories of the company’s journey to Erebor. He’d already told you so much just in the few short weeks you’d been reunited, and you were surprised to find he still had many tales to tell. You sat for hours under the trees together, enthralled by the sound of his voice. The way his speech quickened as he got to the exciting parts. The giggles that spilled out between words as he told you of the humorous things that had happened. Even the deepening timbre of his voice as he told you of the darker parts, the moments when he truly did not know if they would make it out alive. 

You’d lost track of the time as he spoke, and before you realized what was happening you found your eyelids drooping. Fili took notice and quickly stood, extending his hand to help you to your feet. 

“Come on, gaihith. Let’s get you back.” 

If you did not know it wasn't physically possible, you would have sworn you could feel your heart breaking within your chest. Fili’s nickname for you, the one he’d used so many times before. It had been nearly 18 months since you’d last heard him call you by that name. Hearing it now, given the circumstance you found yourself in, felt nearly unbearable. Once you were wed to Barin you were certain you’d never hear it again. 

You followed Fili closely as the two of you wound your way back through the hidden passageways, back through the empty corridors and into the wing where your chamber was. As you stopped in your doorway and turned around to say goodnight, you were surprised to find Fili standing inches away from you. He stood so close the tip of his nose almost touched yours. You backed into the threshold and felt your back hit the door. 

“Fili, what are you-”

Without a word he closed the space between you, bringing his lips down to feverishly touch yours. It was a moment you’d longed for, had dreamed of. His lips felt soft and warm against your own. The familiar scent of him, the sweetness of the pipe tobacco on his breath mingled with the earthy scent of the cologne he wore. Unthinking you felt yourself lean into the kiss, your hands grasping at the leather of his tunic. You’d not yet kissed Barin, but you were certain it could never compare to the sparks that flew through you at Fili’s touch.

Barin. Your fiance. 

You broke the kiss instantly, pushing yourself backward and into the hard wood surface of the door. 

“Fili!” You whispered harshly as you shoved him away. “What in Mahal’s name are you doing?” You looked quickly from one end of the hall to the other, relieved that no one was awake at this hour to see what he had done. 

“(Y/N)-” He stepped closer, coming back to tower over you in the doorframe once again. “I-” 

You put your hand against his chest to stop him.

“No, Fili.” You said firmly. “No. Do you have any idea what would happen if someone were to see what you’ve just done? My engagement would be over. How dare you.” You felt a surge of anger rising in your chest. After all he’d put you through, after you’d finally tried to move on and put him out of your mind… Now he had the nerve to kiss you publicly, in full view of anyone that might come strolling down the corridor. To think of the scandal.

“You need to leave, Fili.” You said harshly, shoving against his chest and pushing him out of your doorway. “Now.” 

“(Y/N) wait-” 

“Go.” You shouted, no longer caring if anyone were around to hear. You fumbled for the doorknob behind you, pushing it open and disappearing into your chamber, not looking back.

**

“Oh, (Y/N) this dress is beautiful.” Dis cooed.

You stood between her and your mother as they circled you, making adjustments to the intricate white gown you wore. You gave her a halfhearted smile as she paused to pin a small section back that would need altering. 

“It is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Your mother said in agreement. “I think one more round of alterations should do it. How does it feel?” 

“It feels fine, amad.” You lied. You ran your hands over the front of the dress, feeling each delicately woven bead. It truly was a beautiful gown, one you should be thrilled to wear. Perhaps if it were someone else you were marrying, you would be. 

“Is everything alright, dear?” Dis asked. She paused her circling as she came to stand in front of you. “You’ve been unusually quiet today.” 

No, everything was not alright. In spite of your best efforts to put it from your mind, you couldn’t stop thinking of the kiss. That kiss. Your head spun just thinking about it. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d reacted too harshly. Fili had kissed you, after all. And maybe that meant…

No. You couldn’t think of that now. It was too late. You couldn’t throw away a sure thing for a chance. Without even realizing it you visibly shook your head, willing the thoughts away. 

“(Y/N), what is the matter? You’re hiding something.” Your mother said. She stopped before you as well, hands planted on her hips. 

You felt your mouth open and close, debating whether or not you should tell them the truth. Both Dis and your mother wore the same worried expression, standing in the same stance with their hands on their waists. 

“I-” You started to explain, to spill everything, as a knock at your chamber door interrupted you. 

“I’ll get that.” Dis said, giving you a ‘this isn’t over yet’ look as she darted away. 

As she departed your mother stepped closer to you, bringing herself close enough to whisper in your ear. 

“Are you having second thoughts, darling? If you are, you know it is not too late.” She urged. 

Before you had the chance to explain a familiar voice rang out from the foyer.

“Please, amad. I just need a few minutes.” 

It was Fili. 

You felt your breath catch in your throat as Dis reappeared. She gestured for your mother to join her. Your mother gave you a questioning look as she also recognized the voice of your childhood friend. She nodded reluctantly as she crossed the room to join Dis. As soon as they’d disappeared, Fili rounded the corner. He stopped short as he saw you standing in the center of the room, outfitted in your wedding gown.

“Mahal.” He breathed. “You look beautiful.” 

“What do you want, Fi?” You asked flatly, ignoring his compliment. Although you were seconds from admitting to your mother all that had transpired the evening before, you were still cross with his behavior. To kiss you out of nowhere, after all he’d done. The impudence of that dwarf.

“Why are you marrying him?” He blurted. 

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. Anger surged through you at his forwardness. 

“What kind of question is that?” You snapped. 

“Don’t answer my question with another question. I deserve to know.” 

“You deserve to know??” You lifted the dress up around your knees and stomped across the room to where he stood, coming to rest a mere foot away from him. “You don’t deserve anything from me, Fili.” 

“What does that mean?” He asked, his voice softening. His eyebrows were knitted together, confusion splayed across his features. 

“You know damn well what that means.” 

“I don’t.” He said simply, and from the surprised tone of his voice you somewhat believed him. Could he really not understand just how deeply he’d hurt you? 

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?!” Finally, the questions you’d been holding onto for nearly a year began to spill out. Once the floodgates were opened, you found it impossible to stop the words from tumbling from your lips. “Why didn’t you write to me?! I waited FIli. For months after I heard you were alive. You sent for your mother. You sent for your things. But you didn’t send for me.” As the words you’d been holding back began to flow, the tears did as well. Your voice cracked, your throat thick with the emotion you’d suppressed these long, agonizing months. 

“(Y/N)-” 

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” You continued, willfully pushing through the tears that fell freely. “You ran off to be a hero. I might have lost you and you didn’t even come to see me.” Your tears broke into a loud sob as you choked out the last few words. You clamped your hand over your mouth, trying to hold back the emotions that had finally been set free.

Fili said nothing. He stood, staring at you with an expression you could not read. His arms were stiffly at his sides, as though he did not know what to do. You felt your anger return as you watched him, emotionlessly watching as you broke down over him. A bitter laugh slipped from your throat as you shook your head at your own ignorance. 

“I was a fool to think you ever loved me.” You muttered, turning away. 

“Loved you?” He said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You did not turn back as you continued moving across the room. 

“Forget I said anything. Just go, Fili. Please.” 

“You think I loved you?” He asked again, his voice growing louder. You could hear him begin to walk, following you across the room.

“Fili-”

“(Y/N) I love you. Here, now. I never stopped.” 

You stopped in your tracks. Had you heard him correctly? Did he just…

You turned slowly back to face him. He was staring at you softly, and he looked as though tears were threatening to spill over in his own eyes. 

“Then why did you leave me the way you did?” Your voice came out in a whisper, muffled both by the tears and the shock of hearing FIli’s words.

“Oh, ghivashel.” He stepped hesitantly closer, and when you did not move away he took your hands gently in his own. “If I had come to see you before I left that morning I do not think I would have gone. I don’t think I’d have had the strength to say goodbye and know I might never see you again. Kili needed me, I had to be strong for him. I had to go.” 

“Why didn’t you write to me after? Why didn’t you ask me to come join you?” A million new questions had sprang into your mind. Could it have all been a misunderstanding? Had he not truly abandoned you? Did he…? 

“I did. You did not come, I thought you didn’t feel the same for me.” 

You shook your head. 

“I didn’t get a letter.” 

He scowled down at your intertwined hands, shaking his head. 

“Damn ravens. Untrustworthy things.” He looked from your hands back to you, and the softness of his earlier expression had returned.  “(Y/N), the first thing I thought of when we retook the mountain was you. We spoke of the rebuild, of the future… All I could think about was bringing you to me as soon as possible. I couldn’t possibly imagine building a future if you were not in it. I love you, (Y/N).” 

You opened and closed your mouth, unable to find the words to speak. He wanted you. He had sent for you. He loved you.

“It broke my heart when I heard you were engaged to another.” He continued. You felt him tenderly squeeze your hands as he spoke. “It’s taken everything in my power not to tell you how I felt. To beg you to marry me and not him. But I assumed you were happy. It wasn’t until last night that I realized I might have a chance. I’m sorry if I blindsided you in the hallway, it probably wasn’t the best way to show you how I felt.” 

You shook your head, still in a daze over the words he spoke. He’d intended to marry you. 

“Fili, I love you too. I always have.” You said quietly, finally finding your voice. You felt as though you were in a daze, in a dream that you might wake up from at any moment. You knew there would have to be a conversation with Barin at some point, but for the moment you didn’t care. 

“So… now what?” You asked uncertainly. 

A nervous smile crossed Fili’s face as he fumbled around in the pocket of his tunic. After a few moments of digging he removed a small, golden bead. You felt your heart begin to pound in your chest as you recognized the courting bead his father had given his mother, the one you’d seen many times as a child in Dis’ jewelry box. 

“I’ve known you for 80 years, gaihith. We don’t need to overcomplicate it.” As he spoke he knelt down before you, still holding one of your hands tightly in his as he held out the delicate golden bead in the other. “Will you be my wife, (Y/N)? I cannot imagine spending another day under this mountain without you by my side.” 

You felt the tears begin to flow again, only this time they were tears of joy instead of sorrow. You nodded wordlessly as Fili got back to his feet. Without hesitation he cupped your face in his hands and brought his lips down to meet yours, gentler this time than he had the night before. For the first time in nearly two years, you felt as though you were home.

Gaihith – little dove 

Amad - mother 

Ghivashel - my treasure

Nâtha - daughter

#fili durin #fili x reader #fili #fíli #fíli x reader #fíli durin #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit one shot #the hobbit imagine #fili imagine #the hobbit

[comicaurora]

in the elves-become-dragons thing itd probably be less that the elves are minors and more that the dragons are a secret new life stage. Adulthood Plus. and then to the dragons all the regular adults (human, elf, dwarf, whatevr) would now be too young. i know this isnt even a thing your developing but thats how id do it lmao

Strong agree. Also hot take but I think a lot of the discourse around what counts as a minor in a fantasy universe kinda goes up its own ass. You can have full adults decanted from clone tubes or magically born yesterday that are technically days old and you can have centuries-old immortals that look and act like children and you can have beings that age super fast and die of old age within months and after a certain point you just gotta hit "it's a fictional thing that has absolutely no comparable real touchpoint to judge by" and stop litigating

#asks #not aurora

[eruhamster]

hours have past and i now have a full belly and my nap meter has been fulfilled and so i am no longer angry but i will still insist that people thinking thistle is a child are, in fact, bitches

There is not a single suggestion he is a child through that entire manga. the most we get is a fan translation of a piece of that adventurer's bible that says it's "ok" if he wears elf earmuffs but "just ok" if pattadol or marcille wear elf earmuffs. but the same fan-translated blurb also says "children and young people" wear them, and specifies that young women often do not - implying that the difference in "ok" and "just ok" could be that Thistle's more fine to wear it as a man, versus Pattadol and Marcille.

We do not actually know the ages of any of the people from the Golden Country. We have nothing we can go on beyond estimations from the Tall-men aging. People saying "Thistle is short he must be a child" are full of it, because elves ARE short - he is the same height as another adult elf, Otta.

We physically see Thistle age through his backstory. We know he is fully grown.

He had to have been at least around the human equivalent of 10 when Delgal was born. We do not know a pureblood elf's equivalent to this, but it is going to be older than a dwarf's since elves live longer. To put it in perspective, Senshi, at 13, was the human equivalent to a 6yo:

Able to do simple chores. About 6 or so. So dwarves likely age at about half the rate of humans. Elves live even longer than dwarves, and likely age even slower. So a human 10yo would be a dwarf 20yo or so, and for an elf, that is likely 40 years old since they live 400 vs dwarf 200 years - So when we're looking at Thistle at Delgal's birth, what looks like a 10yo tall-man child would be a 40yo elf. It is highly likely around there unless it's said otherwise anywhere.

At 40 at the time of Delgal's birth, we could just add how old Delgal is. We don't know his exact age, but this man looks at least 40. He already has a son.

So going by this, Thistle is probably about 80 at the time he officially becomes Dungeon Lord. This is the elf age of maturity according to the Adventurer's Bible.

And you need to remember, while immortality exists in the Golden Country, it does not mean aging is ground to a halt.

Delgal's son continues to grow, and has a child who grows into adulthood all within the dungeon. Delgal continues to age:

Absolutely nobody is stunted in aging since the start of the dungeon. There has never been a suggestion of that. At some point it appears he made sure to lock everyone in the age of their prime, but Thistle continued to physically age at least through Delgal seeming to be at least a 70yo man.

So Thistle is solidly an adult, in body and mind, ESPECIALLY at the time of the story but including when he became Lord of the Dungeon. At absolute best, if you shave off years, possibly initially he could have been maybe the elf equivalent to late teens, but that's really pushing it.

Not a single time in the entire series, even when the Canaries see Thistle, does anyone remark that he is a child, or even exceedingly young. He is treated like an adult by absolutely everyone.

Every single person that says he is a child is working on pure headcanon or are overly distracted about his size and cute face, which is ironic since that's an ongoing issue elves deal with with with non-elves. He is not any shorter or any less babyfaced than other adult elves we know.

EDIT: Had one person point out a single part of Thistle's first proper introduction, where Marcille thinks "a child?" - A possible misunderstanding on Marcille's part, or a later retcon by Kui by the time we see his whole backstory. Regardless, I wasn't aware of it, and now that the episode that would have it is out - it's worth noting that the anime removed that.

He is not a child.

#thistle #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #worst part of manga getting an anime is having to deal with animes getting mad abt spoilers tbh

[kirkenovak]

I’ve watched the Dungeons and Dragons movie too many times for it to be healthy and I decided to make it everyone else’s problem.

Honor Among Thieves/Dreamling crossover?

The Endless exist in the DnD setting but they don’t concern themselves with the affairs of gods and mortals, they just ARE. They exist outside the planes and influence all of them, albeit in different ways. They aren’t worshipped and usually aren’t well known.

Dream and Death do their visit to the mortal realm and meet Hob Gadling, Dream and Death have their bet and Hob becomes immortal. Now, in the DnD, unnaturally long lives aren’t that unheard of. There are elves who had already been adults when Hob became immortal, who are still alive. Arguably, Hob could pass himself off as a weird half-elf hybrid and no one would be too surprised he’s been knocking about for several centuries. But a human that not only lives long but doesn’t die? At all? No matter the manner of death, no matter the damage done to him, he just gets up again and keeps on trucking? No. That’s not normal. That shit’s weeeeeird. You don’t want to be advertising that unless you want every evil wizard warlock lich sorcerer and whathaveyou knocking on your door. So Hob still has to hide.

He of course still meets Dream every 100 years in the inn (every paladin and cleric with divine sense in the area does a little >_>). He still pretends to be his own son. He still does hundreds of different things. He still has a fight with Dream that causes Dream to walk out on him. He still buys the White Horse and waits for Dream. Dream is still captured by Burgess, a mighty wizard who really REALLY wants to conquer death but doesn’t want to be an undead because yuck.

Meanwhile, Xenk Yendar has met Hob in his travels several times already and is absolutely not buying the “I’m his son, I’m the son’s son, I’m the son’s grandson” excuse but Hob seems harmless, commits no evil acts (that Xenk knows of *coughscoughs*) and doesn’t register as anything otherworldly or undead so Xenk leaves him alone. That is until he walks into The White Horse one day, sees Hob for the first time in years and immediately senses that this is a temple, the land is consecrated, this man is the priest. The problem? A priest of what exactly? Normally it’s not really his business but given that Hob is a bit shady to begin with, it just doesn’t seem right. He asks Edgin for help, after all, who better to charm and swindle his way into Hob’s good graces and get some answers than a professional conman/thief/ex-Harper/bard who just doesn’t do magic, no seriously, what’s the deal with that.

This is where Ilmater decides to intervene. Sure, normally he wouldn’t stick his Devine nose in the matters on the Endless but he is the god of suffering, and both Dream and Hob are suffering, albeit in different ways. He sends his favourite paladin a vision of Dream and Hob, who then confines in Edgin and his crew and so, the DnD version of the fishbowl heist is born!

Starring: Xenk, the hottest paladin in existence; Edgin the spell-less bard; Edgin’s barely concealed lust for Xenk; Doric the most OP wildshape in existence; Simon the Sorcerer (no not the game, the game is great tho. Available on iOS. Try it. Starring Chris Barrie of the Red Dwarf fame as the voice of Simon. It has a sequel too tho not as good); Hob Gadling, the immortal but he can’t reveal he’s immortal and also has no idea who Dream is or what his true nature or even name is… wow he’s kinda useless in this setting and nobody trusts him; and Holga the carrying everything on her broad shoulders.

#dungeons and dragons #honor among thieves #the sandman #dreamling #xedgin #Hob gadling

[oh-katsuki]

i can’t remember if i ever posted this but it is, once again, from the drafts

cw: fem!reader, slight age gap, reader is gojo’s sister’s best friend, mentions of fingering, mentions of alcohol and parties

you’re gojo’s sister’s best friend. you both met in college and graduated together, eventually living in the same city. and satoru... well, satoru has always had kind of a thing for you. it really only became noticeable though, once he entered university. 

satoru is a momma’s boy. a good kid and an even better student. he’s younger than you by three years, just barely 21 while you’re 24. he’s still in university, a bit on the wild side but who isn’t at that age? especially when they look like that. 

but you’re grown. you’re mature. you’ve got a 9 to 5 job working for the man. you really can’t be wasting time with your best friend’s younger brother. no matter how hot he is now. no matter how sly he is, or how charming you find that mischievous grin he wears. really, you’re too mature for this. he’s too juvenile, too wild. you want to settle down. meet a man who is ready for that and he simply... isn’t.

but he’s so charming. you see him sometimes when you visit with his sister. stopping by his apartment when she drops something off or picking her up from his place after she spent the day bumming around and being a general nuisance. but the way he thinks of you becomes painfully obvious at parties. 

you go at his sister’s request which is really his request. and he’s always so attentive to you. he asks you things. how the party is, if you like the music, if you need another drink, if you know just how good you look tonight. it’s all the same somewhat flirty spiel of questions accompanied by that familiar grin. like a predator. like someone astutely confident in their ability to bag someone. 

satoru should be confident. in all his 21 years, he’s never had any trouble getting what he wants, especially not when it comes to women. he’s a smooth talker with a pretty face and social skills most con men would kill for. really, he’s a knockout. 

he really puts the moves on you at parties too. leans in close, touches your thigh when he talks, shamelessly let’s his eyes rake over your figure. but you always respond the same. come back in two years. that’s what you tell him. and satoru always responds that he’s always been into older women. he’s got a thing for them. well, he has a thing for one older woman. 

“i’m not into younger guys.” your response is firm, teasing. because you do have a thing for one particular younger guy. really, at this point it’s just pride. you’re both mature. you’re both adults. you just don’t want to admit that the gap you see between him and you is nearly nonexistent. it would give him too much satisfaction. 

satoru just leans back, drumming his fingers along the fabric of the couch because he knows you’re lying, at least when it comes to him. he’s really too smart to have not figured it out. but he clicks his tongue and smirks at you, the kind that turns his eyes to slits before speaking his response. it’s easy in his mouth, practiced, and certain. “for now.” 

you watch him go. you watch the broad expanse of his back, the way you can see his muscles through his shirt, the pretty face he sports so effortlessly, and his large hand that dwarfs the cup he holds. 

it’s only pride because you’ve been lording your age over him since your last year of college when his sister finally let you meet him. you’ve been holding it to him that you’re in charge because you’re older. because he’s a freshman in university and you’re a senior and what you say goes. but you were wrong about this. 

satoru proves it to you through this little dance you do, through his blatant displays of attraction, through the way he flirts and eventually, the way he fucks. because satoru fucks like he’s made for it, like he knows your body like the back of his hand. 

satoru asks you while he’s knuckle deep if you still think you’re in charge. months of pent of attraction, of pent up emotions lingering between hate and desire come to a blinding apex. you think—as he makes you come on his fingers and then on his cock—that maybe hate and desire aren’t opposite, but adjacent.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru x reader #jjk smut #MINORS DNI #[ 📕 – writing ] #ive forgotten how to tag and post on here #tw: age gap

[uncharismatic-fauna]

Carve Out Some Time for the Cassowary

Famous for their bright colors and short tempers, cassowaries are a group of flightless birds in the genus Casuarius. There are three species: the Northern Cassowary (C. unappendiculatus) which is found in New Guinea; the Southern Cassowary (C. casuarius), native southern New Guinea and northern Australia; and the Dwarf Cassowary (C. bennetti), endemic to New Guinea and the surrounding islands. All three species prefer tropical forests, though they are known to venture into savannahs, wetlands, and suburban areas in search of food.

Cassowaries are mainly active at dawn and dusk, and spend the time in between in their nests-- large pads of vegetation built on the ground. They opportunistic omnivores; their primary source of food is fruit and fungi, but they will also eat insects, frogs, fish, birds, small mammals, and carrion when available. Much of the fruit they eat is swallowed whole, which makes cassowaries invaluable for spreading seeds throughout their range. Additionally, due to their large size, adult cassowaries have no natural predators, and will aggressively defend their young from predators like snakes, monitor lizards, birds of prey, and wild dogs. When startled this birds can run up to 50 kph (31 mph), or lash out with their powerful legs.

Members of the Casuarius genus are solitary, save for the reproductive season. This season runs from May to September, when fruit is most abundant. Males maintain and defend territories, and call to attract mates. These calls are extremely loud, and at one of the lowest frequencies of any known bird, at about 23 Hertz. When a female approaches, the male crouches and allows the female to inspect him. She may also chase him, typically into water where the two perform a ritualistic fight before she submits. After laying her eggs, the female will move on to another male’s territory.

The eggs are extremely large and bright green, and usually laid in clutches of four. The male alone tends these eggs, incubating them and maintaining the nest for 50-52 days. The chicks that emerge stay with him for an additional 8-9 months until they become independent. Individuals take up to three years to become fully mature, and the average lifespan of wild Casuarius is anywhere from 30 to 50 years.

Southern Cassowaries are the largest of the three species, at up to 1.8 m (5ft 11 in) tall and weighing 58 kg (130 lbs) on average. Females tend to be much larger than males, and the species is considered to be the largest in Asia and the 3rd largest in the world. The Dwarf Cassowary, as the name implies, is significantly smaller at only 1.5m (4ft 11in) tall and 26 kg (57 lbs) at maximum. Northern Cassowaries lie between the two extremes. While all three species have black bodies, the coloration of their heads and necks vary significantly. Both the Northern and Southern Cassowary species have wattles-- pouches of skin that dangle from the neck-- that can be red, gold, purple, or white, which contrasts sharply with their blue necks. The Dwarf Cassowary lacks a wattle, and has a darker blue neck. In addition, it has the smallest head crest, or casque,; the Southern Cassowary’s casque is blade-shaped, and larger than the Dwarf Cassowary’s. The Northern Cassowary’s casque is more flared, and the largest of the three species.

Conservation Status: The Dwarf and Northern Cassowary species are considered Near Threatened and Least Concern respectively by the IUCN, while the Southern Cassowary is classified as endangered. All three are threatened primarily by habitat loss.

If you like what I do, consider leaving a tip or buying me a ko-fi!

Photos

Steve Parish

Kevin Schafer

San Diego Zoo

#northern cassowary #southern cassowary #dwarf cassowary #cassowary #Casuariiformes #Casuariidae #paleognaths #birds #tropical forests #tropical forest birds #tropical rainforests #tropical rainforest birds #savannahs #savannah birds #wetlands #wetland birds #asia #southeast asia #Papua New Guinea #australia #oceania

[naeverse]

Extra Credit

🏫staring. Professor O’Hara x Sassy fem!reader

🎒 preview: “Do you agree, Y/N? Will you help me help you?"

🖋️Summary: Miguel O'Hara, a renowned, attractive genetics professor, known for his strict stance against extra credit. As a senior, you struggle to keep up with coursework and Mr. O'Hara's opposition to extra credit makes it difficult for you to pass. However, a chance encounter with you changes everything, as Mr. O'Hara becomes more open to helping you - but you must help him in return.

📕tw/cw. unprotected sex, harsh language, hate sex, rough, hand job, blow job, dirty talk, oral sex, spanking, accidental simulation, multiple reader orgasms, big dick Miguel, mutual orgasm, etc… 

📘pet names: (hers) little puta or puta (Little bitch, bitch), Muñeca (Doll) 

✏️ rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I

📖Word count: 5.3k words

🍎 Credit to Artist in header: Narutoss.ramen

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

Genetics...

Why the hell did you decide to take this class?

That was the question swirling in your mind as you sat in your genetics college lecture, stifling a yawn. 

This was, without a doubt, your most dreaded class.

The workload was overwhelming, the subject matter mind-numbingly tedious, and worst of all, it just didn't capture your interest. No matter how hard you tried, it felt like your relationship with your genetics class was doomed from the start.

So, it came as no surprise that you were struggling in the course...

You reclined in your chair, legs propped up on the desk, wearing a pair of knee-high leather boots adorned with belts and straps. A black crop top with "Baby Girl" written in cursive across your chest covered your torso, while a long-sleeve fishnet shirt was layered underneath. Below, you sported a black and white flannel skirt held in place by a snug belt that accentuated your waist and curves. The skirt was perhaps a tad too short, that with a slight shift of your legs could give a tantalizing glimpse of the black thong you wore underneath.

You were a troublemaker, unapologetically sowing chaos and taking pleasure in the discomfort of others. Manipulating people's emotions, capitalizing on their vulnerabilities, and hurling insults were all routine for you, and you reveled in it.

However, nothing quite compared to the joy you found in getting under the skin of your genetics professor…

Mr. Miguel O'Hara.

The imposing figure entered the classroom, firmly closing the door behind himself. For most, his mere presence was enough to command respect and instill fear… 

But not for you.

You couldn't help but smirk as you observed his stoic, tanned face, his curly, dark brown hair flowing to the back of his head, the black spectacles concealing his amber eyes, and his muscular frame neatly dressed in a simple white polo shirt, black tie, black slacks, and leather oxfords. Even his black bookbag appeared dwarfed by his imposing figure. As he made his way through the rows of desks, greeting his students with a grunt.

Mr. O'Hara was a man on the edge, stressed beyond belief. He had to wrangle with four different classes of young adults, all seemingly indifferent to his efforts to teach genetics. They attended his class merely to mark their presence, spending their time either dozing off, chatting, or glued to their phones during his lectures.

Countless students had been kicked out of his class due to the disrespect they showed him, but it had reached a point where it seemed futile to do so anymore.

As the days passed, the number of students disrespecting him only grew, and it was no wonder that he dreaded walking into the classroom. The exhaustion and stress etched into his features, with drooping shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes, and the ever-increasing wrinkles on his tanned face were visible proof of the toll it took on him after each lecture.

He walked by your desk as you smiled at him. "Good Afternoon Mr. Grumpy!" You exclaimed, causing a few laughs to ripple through the students at your comment. Mr. O'Hara groaned, placing his bag down onto the floor by his desk.

Mr. O'Hara was already annoyed; he had barely had enough sleep last night and was running on only three hours of rest after staying up late to grade these dreadful students' assignments.

He wasn't in the mood for your antics today...

"Y/N, are you planning on being like this the entire semester? Because I just might have to drop you if that's the case," Mr. O'Hara said coldly, turning around to face the girl who was smirking back at him.

You giggled at his threat. "Oh, Mr. O'Hara, but you told me that last time, and guess what?" You held up your hands, looking around the class with a smirk. "Looks like I'm still here." Mr. O'Hara rolled his eyes, ignoring you as he walked to the small podium in front of the room where he would take attendance.

"Okay... when I say your name, I need you to say 'here,' and only 'here,'" he said, his glare directed at you, causing you to chuckle. Mr. O'Hara began going down the list, calling out many students' names, and receiving replies ranging from "here" to "present" to complete silence.

"Lastly...

Y/N."

You couldn't help but wear a mischievous smile. You’ve been waiting for this moment. 

"Yes, I'm present today, Mr. Grumpy Gorilla."

Mr. O'Hara clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the pen in his hand. His hand trembled with anger as he pressed the pen's tip harshly onto the paper, marking a check beside your name. It was taking every ounce of his self-control not to lose his temper with the girl who seemed determined to test his patience to its breaking point.

He exhaled deeply, doing his best to ignore your presence as he scanned the classroom. "Okay, good. Everyone is here," he announced, moving his podium out of the way to begin his lecture.

"So, in our last class, we discussed what genetics is, its significance, and why it is important to be studied," Mr. O'Hara said, moistening his lips. His well-built figure strode over to the whiteboard, where he picked up a dark blue marker.

"To kickstart your minds this afternoon, here's your introductory question: 

How do genes work?"

He voiced the question while writing it on the board. As Mr. O'Hara spoke, your gaze lazily trained on his muscular backside whilst he wrote on the board. Your eyelids were on the verge of closing any second.

Surveying the rest of the class, you noticed some students had already succumbed to sleep, others were absorbed into their phones, and only a handful seemed to be actively engaged with the imposing, tanned instructor at the front of the room.

"So, does anyone here know what a gene is?" Mr. O'Hara asked the class, turning around to see only two raised hands; the rest seemed utterly disinterested.

'I don't get paid enough for this.'

He thought with a heavy sigh. Running a frustrated hand through his dark brown curls, he continued scanning the class until his gaze settled on a girl at the back, her hand raised high. He pointed at her, prompting a smile to spread across her face as she began to respond.

"Genes are the basic units of heredity... blah, blah, blah."

You rolled your eyes, slumping lower into your seat. This girl was a living and breathing Siri, reciting what sounded like a paragraph straight from Google search itself.

Once the girl finished her detailed explanation, you raised a finger. Mr. O'Hara hesitated to acknowledge you, but he did so anyway. "Yes, Y/N?"

"Out of everything that girl said, was any of that important? I kinda zoned out after the word 'genes...'"

Mr. O'Hara sighed, giving the girl in the back of the class who answered his question an apologetic glance. He rested his hands on his hips, turning his stern gaze back onto you. "Everything she said was, in fact, important," his voice was firm and cold.

"Maybe if you actually came to my class to learn, you'll actually be interested in what your classmates are saying," Mr. O'Hara said, pushing his black eyeglasses up his nose and placing the marker he had in his hand into his pocket. He glanced down at the back of the annoying girl's black boots resting on her desk, a scowl pulling at his lips. "And get your feet off your desk. You're not at home."

You rolled your eyes and begrudgingly placed your feet on the floor, but your expression remained unfazed as you locked eyes with Mr. O'Hara. For a brief moment, he couldn't help but savor this small victory over the challenging student.

You hummed nonchalantly, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. As you snickered at Mr. O'Hara's faint, prideful expression on his face, you couldn't resist adding, "You had your moment, I'll give you that, but don't get too comfortable... 

Class isn't up yet, Mr. O." 

Your tone held a hint of amusement, which only further irritated Mr. O'Hara.

This woman was unbelievably infuriating. It seemed like she had a comeback for everything, and it was driving him up the wall.

"Just sit there and be quiet. Let me teach the people who want to listen," he spat, his tanned face contorted with anger. "At least be like the ones who don't give a damn and stay silent."

You raised your hands in mock surrender. "My bad, my bad. Didn't mean to ruin your victory moment," you said sarcastically.

Mr. O'Hara let out a frustrated sigh and continued with his lecture on genes and how they worked, determined to get through the material regardless of your antics.

Mr. O'Hara was quite surprised. You remained astonishingly quiet for the rest of his lecture, which was a rare occurrence. He managed to finish his teaching earlier than usual, allowing the students some time to work on their assignments before the class ended. 

Mr. O'Hara settled in front of his computer, launching the spreadsheets for his classes, eager to resume grading the remaining assignments that had kept him awake throughout the night.

In contrast, you let out a sigh, showing no interest in working on your assignment. Instead, you rocked back and forth on the back legs of your chair.

'Well, this class is boring as hell,' 

You thought, casting a glance around the room to see some students diligently working on their assignments, while others were following your lead…

Slacking off.

You chewed your bubble gum, your eyes landing on Mr. O'Hara, who sat at his desk with hooded eyes, peering at the screen in front of him through his black spectacles.

A mischievous smirk crossed your face.

'This should be fun.'

You pushed your chair back and stood up, the belts on your boots jiggling as you walked over to Mr. O'Hara's desk. Even before you reached him, you could hear him mutter under his breath.

“Oh, mi maldito Dios”

His hand ran frustratingly over his face, a clear sign of his annoyance. You hopped onto his desk, your skirt riding up your thighs. Mr. O'Hara sighed, leaning back in his seat, looking at you, his expression making it evident that he wasn't in the mood for any distractions.

"What do you want?" he asked, his irritation palpable.

You shrugged your shoulders, a smirk playing on your lips. "Nothing really..."

Mr. O'Hara scoffed, shaking his head in exasperation. "If you don't want anything, go back to your seat. I'm grading, and you can't be over here," he sternly said, turning his attention back to his computer, determined to resume his work.

You swung your legs, absentmindedly poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue. Your gaze drifted down to the stack of papers Mr. O'Hara was currently grading, and you recognized it as the test from last week.

'I probably bombed that shit,' 

You thought, recalling just how challenging the test had been. You glanced back over at Mr. O'Hara, who was staring sternly at his computer screen. His intense gaze made it seem like he was angry at his monitor.

"Have you graded mine yet? Your test last week was really fucking hard," you said with a chuckle. Mr. O'Hara groaned, fully aware that if he just did what you wanted, you'd leave him in peace.

"Yeah, I have," he replied, hastily changing spreadsheets to access your afternoon class. He knew you were likely eager to know your score.

You waited patiently, your gaze shifting from Mr. O'Hara's stoic face to the side of his computer monitor.

Mr. O'Hara quickly located your name, intending to show you your overall grade in his class along with your latest scores on assignments and tests. He turned his monitor towards you, ensuring that only the two of you could see your grades.

You peered over at the monitor, leaning in so close to Mr. O'Hara that your sweet perfume filled his senses. It took him by surprise, leaving him momentarily speechless.

You glanced over at him, your eyebrows furrowing. "Mr. O, are you going to walk me through this?"

Your words snapped him out of his trance. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. Using his finger, he pointed to the 58% you had received on your test the previous week.

"Y/N, as you can see, you've scored below the standard I expect," he said, watching as you grimaced at the score. Your reaction actually shocked him.

"Damn, what's my overall score?" You asked, your eyes locking with Mr. O'Hara's. His heart and stomach did something at the contact. 

He hastily faced his computer, backing out of your test grade to show your overall score. 

Using his finger, he pointed, once again, at the screen, bringing to your attention the 42% that showed your overall grade for his course. 

"You might want to consider putting more effort into your work, and in actively listening during my lectures.” Mr. O’Hara’s voice stern as after showing your scores, he went back to grading. He was ready for you to leave him be and go back to your seat. 

But you did no such thing…

You clicked your tongue. "Well, shit." You glanced over at Mr. O'Hara, who seemed to be determined to focus his attention solely on grading. You looked down at your lap with a worried expression.

‘Shit, I need to pass his class to graduate this year. These are the last credits I need,' You thought, biting your lip as you pondered your situation.

'It's too far into the year to change classes, and I'm sure as hell not waiting another year to graduate,' 

You huffed, glancing over at Mr. O'Hara, who was examining a student's test packet, his eyes fixed on the stapled papers.

"What is it?" he coldly inquired, noticing your gaze on him.

You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him. "You're not one to offer makeup work or extra credit, are you?" you inquired, crossing your legs, causing your skirt to ride up your thighs even higher.

Mr. O'Hara closed the packet he had been examining and shot you an annoyed glance. However, when his eyes fell upon your legs, he was taken aback.

The sight left him momentarily stunned...

Your legs were...

His eyes widened.

Exquisite.

The skin appeared silky and smooth, plush and soft. An almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch them washed over him, expecting them to feel as soft as marshmallows under his fingers.

Your legs were indeed a captivating sight…

His heart skipped a beat, and a blush crept up on his face.

He took a deep breath, turning his attention back to the test packet, hoping to hide the faint blush that had crept onto his cheeks. He cleared his throat, aiming to maintain a professional and firm tone. "No, I don't offer makeup work or extra credit. You know that Y/N."

You sighed once more, your desperation palpable. "Come on, Mr. O, not even a single extra credit assignment?" you implored. You refused to accept no for an answer. "I mean, you saw my grade, Mr. O. I really need the help," you whispered to Mr. O’Hara, your tone hushed.

Mr. O'Hara let out a deep sigh, his frustration clearly evident as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of your unrelenting persistence. It was becoming increasingly clear that your behavior was getting under his skin.

Even if he occasionally offered extra credit, the thought of extending that courtesy to you didn't sit well with him. After all, you had entered his class and proceeded to insult your classmates, which had only succeeded in aggravating him further. He couldn't help but be surprised that you suddenly seemed so invested in your grades.

Desperately attempting to refocus on his grading, he did his best to ignore your continuous pleas. However, strangely, his attention kept wandering elsewhere. In his peripheral vision, he couldn't help but notice your thighs, which appeared incredibly smooth under your short flannel skirt. It was apparent that this outfit likely violated every dress code on campus.

As he grappled with the conflict between concentrating on his work and being distracted by your constant appeals and your captivating appearance. 

After a while of pleading, you decided to give up, feeling the frustration building inside you as it became apparent that Mr. O'Hara had no intention of helping you.

"Fine then..." you muttered under your breath, hopping off his desk. Unfortunately, as you made your exit, your hand accidentally bumped against Mr. O'Hara's black pencil holder, sending his numerous writing tools scattering onto the ground, along with the case.

"Shit," you cursed quietly, realizing the mess you had inadvertently created. Your outburst drew the attention of everyone in the classroom, briefly interrupting their activities before they returned to their tasks.

The accident appeared to push Mr. O'Hara over the edge. He was already struggling with distractions and inner conflict, and the disruption only added to his stress. With a groan, he stood up from his chair, muttering to himself in frustration, "Me voy a volver jodidamente loco," as he began to kneel down and clean up the spilled writing tools.

However, as he glanced up, what he saw left him wide-eyed with surprise. Before him, you were on your hands and knees, helping him pick up the pencils and pens that had fallen. But it wasn't the act itself that shocked him. 

It was something else entirely...

Your back was turned to him, and your arching posture thrust your luscious bottom into the air, affording him an unobstructed view of your enticing rear. 

Mr. O'Hara couldn't help but notice that your ass was clad in a black thong, which, unfortunately, did little to conceal your exposed cheeks beneath the black and white flannel skirt.

Mr. O'Hara found himself frozen, and completely speechless

He couldn't discern whether it was his prolonged abstinence from sexual activity that had left him in this state, but his thoughts spiraled into a maelstrom of naughty and lustful fantasies.

His mind became filled with improper and dirty visions of you: 

Images of you on your knees before him, with his substantial member in your mouth as you expertly accommodated it, taking him in the depths of your throat...

Thoughts of him spanking you into submission. Your plump bottom turning red after every smack of his hand as he relished in your body trembling in pleasure and pain…

Thoughts of his hand wrapped around your gorgeous neck whilst he fucked you senselessly. Your velvet walls sucking him in as he had his way with you.  

Mr. O’Hara licked his lips. 

He soon snapped out of his thoughts when he observed you bending over once more to retrieve another pencil, offering him yet another view, but this time, of your clothed pussy. 

He almost salivated at the sight…

"Damn, why do you have so many pens and pencils?" You said in annoyance, standing up on your knees to place the last few in the pencil holder before getting to your feet.

Mr. O'Hara cleared his throat, making an effort to regain his composure and expel any inappropriate thoughts or desires of you and your body from his mind. 

Mr. O'Hara had a reputation on campus for being one of the attractive professors. Being in his early 30s, many college students believed they had a chance with the genetics professor.

On a daily basis, many students tried to get his attention, whether by staring at him for a moment too long, touching his hand when exchanging things, buying him gifts, lunch, and snacks, dropping things to kneel before him so they could come face to face with his crotch, or leaning in during conversations to display their cleavage in the hopes of catching his eye.

Mr. O’Hara was used to women trying to get his attention and seeing explicit things like this…

So why was it so different with you?

Because Mr. O'hara knew damn well that your actions weren't intentional…

You had a sour relationship with Mr. O'Hara. You'll piss him off, he'll yell at you and use all of his willpower to keep from throwing something across the room.

That was your relationship... 

He hated you. 

You hated him.

So he knew you didn't purposely flash him…

And that was the problem…

Mr. O'Hara was still in shock, observing as you placed the black pencil holder onto his desk and then stood nearby, beginning to dust off your outfit.

Soon, he recalled your previous question about the number of writing tools he had. He cleared his throat, averted his gaze to the ground, and noticed another pen nearby. On his knees, he leaned over to pick it up, the dark blue pen appearing rather small in his massive hand.

"It's normal... Every teacher has plenty of them," Mr. O’Hara finally muttered. He stood to his full seven-foot height and moved to insert the two he had retrieved into the pencil holder, then returned to his computer chair.

He attempted to divert his attention away from your physique, striving to put the recent sight behind him, but that skirt... 

That skirt was too damn short, irresistibly drawing his gaze back to your enticing thighs and igniting a stream of inappropriate, and lewd thoughts once more.

Mr. O’Hara shifted his attention to his computer, avoiding eye contact with you. "Y/N, I believe we need to address your dress code violation,”  he stated.

You groaned inwardly at his words. 

'Dress code violation, my ass,'

You thought, rolling your eyes. You believed that dress codes on college campuses were nonsensical. After all, you were an adult.

"What's the issue?" you asked, placing your hands on your hips. Mr. O’Hara glanced over at you, struggling to maintain eye contact.

"The dress code explicitly states that skirts cannot be shorter than three inches above the knee. If your skirt remains like this, I'll have no choice but to send you home, and you'll automatically fail my class," he explained.

Mr. O’Hara struggled to maintain professionalism, but his desire continued to cloud his thoughts, drawing his gaze back to your legs.

You couldn't care less about the genetics class, but this was your final year at this wretched college, and you weren't willing to be set back another year over a skirt.

"I'm sorry, Mr. O, but I don't have a change of clothes," you said with a feigned pout, then flashed a bright smile at Mr. O'Hara. "How about you let me off on a tiny, little warning, okay?" you asked, resting your hands on his desk.

He sighed, clearly frustrated by your attempt to evade the dress code violation. Mr. O’Hara knew your excuse probably wasn’t a lie, but your legs were undeniably distracting.

It was stirring up emotions he hadn't experienced in years, and it was genuinely bothering him.

Mr. O’Hara glanced over at you, finding you still smiling at him, hoping for his leniency. His eyes momentarily strayed towards your cleavage that peeked out from the dip in your crop top and down to your inviting thighs.

Suddenly, a voice emerged in the back of his head, a seductive and enticing thought that didn't want you to change. He found himself actually enjoying the way you looked...

‘At least I’ll have something to look at for the rest of class.’ 

Mr. O'Hara sighed softly, his gaze momentarily leaving his computer screen to address you. "Just this once, I'll let you stay. Don't make it a habit," he remarked, his tone stern. "But do ensure that you don't expose yourself too much."

You responded with a broad smile to his words, glancing down and realizing that your skirt had once again ridden up your legs, revealing more than you intended. In a hurry, you adjusted it.

Flashing someone in class had never been your intention; you simply thought the outfit was cute and wanted to wear it.

Flustered, you muttered, "Shit, my bad" not even realizing how high your skirt had risen.

Mr. O'Hara glanced at you as you adjusted your skirt, and before you drew the fabric down, he had caught a sight of your black, clothed mound.

He quickly turned his head, his ears reddening whilst he tried to focus on his computer. Mr. O’Hara was making every effort to distract himself from the dirty thoughts of you and your stunning thighs and pussy.

Mr. O’Hara cleared his throat, his gaze trained on the monitor as he attempted to resume what he was doing prior to being disturbed. “Y/N, just be sure to be more aware of what your body is showing in the future.” 

"Yeah, yeah, I understand," you replied, waving your hand dismissively as you returned to your seat. With a groan, you slumped into your chair, your gaze instantly fixed on the wall clock in Mr. O'Hara's classroom.

You still had twenty minutes left in this boring, ass class...

Another frustrated sigh escaped your lips. You knew the next few minutes were going to be dreadful...

The next few minutes were, in fact, filled with torture and torment for you and Mr. O'Hara.

He was desperately trying to grade and do his work, but he physically couldn't.

That moment just wouldn't leave his mind...

Your ass, presented clear as day to him. 

Your cheeks plump, round, and squeezed by your black thong, and…

Your clothed pussy… 

His entire body always felt a wave of heat and tingles run through him at the recollection. He had to put his pen down and take a breath.

Mr. O'Hara sat back in his seat and shut his eyes for a brief moment, a deep exhale passing his lips.

When he opened them, his amber-crimson eyes slowly drifted across the classroom, taking in the diligent students who were busily doing their work, and then the little shits who were asleep, typing on their phones, or daydreaming off into space.

And it was one of those little shits that caught his eye...

You…

You ran a frustrated hand through your hair while chewing the end of your pencil in thought. Your legs were crossed over one another as you balanced on your chair's back legs.

Mr. O’Hara continued to stare at you

He couldn't help it...

The more he looked, the more appealing every aspect of you seemed to become.

The black crop top that covered your torso had the phrase "Babygirl" written in cursive across the front. It hugged your body just right and really accentuated your breasts. Your eyes were so gorgeous as you focused them on the wall clock before you. 

The black, long-sleeve fishnet shirt you wore underneath your top hid the minor amount of skin of your stomach. Your stunning abdomen, concealed by the fishnet material, teased any male who desired a good look. On your waist, you wore a thick leather belt that squeezed your frame perfectly, emphasizing your marvelous curves.

As he continued to look at you, Mr. O'Hara's breathing became heavier, his eyes traveling down your body.

Mr. O'Hara was thanking you more and more for wearing that short black and white flannel skirt. Your thighs, with their soft tissue pressing delectably on your seat, were clearly visible to him as the fabric barely covered your bottom.

You legs were crossed under your desk, and the pose made your limbs look even more appealing, and Mr. O'Hara couldn't explain it, but when he actually saw the black boots that adorned your feet, his stomach nearly did a backflip.

The numerous belts and straps on the black, knee-high boots gave you a rather badass appearance that increased your attractiveness in Mr. O'Hara's eyes.

Mr. O'Hara didn't realize how long he had been staring at you aimlessly. He bit his bottom lip in desire, his black dress pants started to get fairly tight around his growing arousal in his pants.

“Beep-Beep!”

“Beep-Beep!” 

“Beep-Beep!”

Mr. O’Hara jumped at the sound of his own phone alarm, signaling that his last class for the day was finally over. 

His eyes immediately landed on you, who was grinning broadly in response to the alarm. You quickly got up from your seat and started stuffing your bookbag with your things.

His mind was racing at the sight. 

His thoughts were filled once more with lewd thoughts of you. His erection in his pants, begging for attention. 

Then a wicked idea came to him…

He knew his idea was dirty, and cruel, but he needed some type of release. 

Mr. O'Hara inhaled deeply, cleared his throat, and his eyes fell on you as you were packing your purple book bag with your journal.  He spoke loudly so that he could be heard over the students' many conversations and movements.

“Y/N."  

You had a huge grin on your face, ecstatic that this horrid class was over and that you could finally go home and do absolutely nothing.

Then, you heard your name being called by Mr. O’Hara, and you couldn't help but display an annoyed expression. 

'What does he want?' 

You thought, turning your gaze to him. “Mr. O?” you called back to him, placing your purple bookbag in your lap and zipping it up.

Mr. O’Hara cleared his throat, licking his lips as he tried to find the right words. His intentions were highly unprofessional, but he still found himself wanting to proceed with his plan. 

'Fuck it...'

His amber-crimson eyes peered at you through his black spectacles, meeting your curious, annoyed, and confused face.

“I need you to stay after class.” 

Your stomach dropped, disbelief washing over you. Anger and annoyance began to build up inside. You sighed heavily in irritation, your intense gaze locked onto your genetics professor. “What for!?” You shouted, clearly agitated.

Mr. O’Hara tried to interject, “Y/N-”

But you didn’t let him finish and continued your rant.

“Is it because I was slacking off!?” You exclaimed, hastily shoving your belongings into your bookbag.

“Y/N, if you will just let me-” Mr. O’Hara tried once again to explain, but you were so lost in your own head that you persisted.

“If this is about my damn skirt, I thought we talked about it!” you exclaimed. “I swear you are just so wishy-washy, Mr. O. You can’t tell me you're letting me slide, only to force me to stay after class. Like, make up your damn mind.” You glared at him with frustration.

You were furious that Mr. O’Hara was holding you back while the other students were free to leave through the classroom door. 

Mr. O’Hara sighed heavily, rolling his eyes at your predictable reaction. His plan was already feeling like a mistake. 

‘What the hell am I doing? Y/N!? Out of all the students on campus!?’

He thought with anger, frustration, and a touch of disappointment and shame.

‘Why did it have to be you?!’

He groaned inwardly, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He desperately wished to halt this before things escalated, but an inner voice of desire urged him to continue.

"If you'd allow me to explain, Y/N, you'll understand that my reason for keeping you after class has nothing to do with those assumptions." Mr. O'Hara said sternly, gazing at you through his black spectacles. Your eyebrows furrowed as you studied the tanned genetics professor in confusion.

"Then why, Mr. O?" Mr. O'Hara cleared his throat, briefly glancing at your body before absentmindedly fiddling with a few paperclips and papers on his desk. His attention was no longer on you.

“Y/N… I would like for you to stay behind after class to...

Discuss your grade.”

Your fiery anger soon gave way for hope and joy. 

You believed that Mr. O’Hara might actually want to assist you with your wretched scores, and you were willing to do whatever it took to bring your grade up…

“Okay…” you replied with a tentative smile.

Mr. O’Hara nodded before quickly turning back to his computer, cheeks tinged with a deep shade of red.

His plan was proceeding smoothly so far…

Very Smoothly...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted soon!

Hope you enjoyed the first part of my first one shot! ✌🙃❤

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman atsv #miguel x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel x reader smut #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel x fem!reader #miguel smut #Miguel

[lollytea]

Luz: Uh Ohhhhh. Hunterrrr, Willowww, what's that hanging above your heads? >:3

Willow: Oooh, mistletoe!

Luz: That's right! And did you know th-

Willow: Mistletoe species grow on a wide range of host trees, some of which experience side effects including reduced growth, stunting, and loss of infested outer branches. A heavy infestation may also kill the host plant. Viscum album successfully parasitizes more than 200 tree and shrub species.

All mistletoe species are hemiparasites because they do perform some photosynthesis for some period of their life cycle. However, in some species its contribution is very nearly zero. For example, some species, such as Viscum minimum, that parasitize succulents, commonly species of Cactaceae or Euphorbiaceae, grow largely within the host plant, with hardly more than the flower and fruit emerging. Once they have germinated and attached to the circulatory system of the host, their photosynthesis reduces so far that it becomes insignificant.

Most of the Viscaceae bear evergreen leaves that photosynthesise effectively, and photosynthesis proceeds within their green, fleshy stems as well. Some species, such as Viscum capense, are adapted to semi-arid conditions and their leaves are vestigial scales, hardly visible without detailed morphological investigation. Therefore, their photosynthesis and transpiration only take place in their stems, limiting their demands on the host's supply of water, but also limiting their intake of carbon dioxide for photosynthesis. Accordingly, their contribution to the host's metabolic balance becomes trivial and the idle parasite may become quite yellow as it grows, having practically given up photosynthesis.

At another extreme other species have vigorous green leaves. Not only do they photosynthesize actively, but a heavy infestation of mistletoe plants may take over whole host tree branches, sometimes killing practically the entire crown and replacing it with their own growth. In such a tree the host is relegated purely to the supply of water and mineral nutrients and the physical support of the trunk. Such a tree may survive as a Viscum community for years; it resembles a totally unknown species unless one examines it closely, because its foliage does not look like that of any tree. An example of a species that behaves in this manner is Viscum continuum.

A mistletoe seed germinates on the branch of a host tree or shrub, and in its early stages of development it is independent of its host. It commonly has two or even four embryos, each producing its hypocotyl, that grows towards the bark of the host under the influence of light and gravity, and potentially each forming a mistletoe plant in a clump. Possibly as an adaptation to assist in guiding the process of growing away from the light, the adhesive on the seed tends to darken the bark. On having made contact with the bark, the hypocotyl, with only a rudimentary scrap of root tissue at its tip, penetrates it, a process that may take a year or more. In the meantime the plant is dependent on its own photosynthesis. Only after it reaches the host's conductive tissue can it begin to rely on the host for its needs. Later it forms a haustorium that penetrates the host tissue and takes water and nutrients from the host plant.

Species more or less obligate include the leafless quintral, Tristerix aphyllus, which lives deep inside the sugar-transporting tissue of a spiny cactus, appearing only to show its tubular red flowers, and the genus Arceuthobium (dwarf mistletoe; Santalaceae) which has reduced photosynthesis; as an adult, it manufactures only a small proportion of the sugars it needs from its own photosynthesis, but as a seedling actively photosynthesizes until a connection to the host is established.

Some species of the largest family, Loranthaceae, have small, insect-pollinated flowers (as with Santalaceae), but others have spectacularly showy, large, bird-pollinated flowers.

Most mistletoe seeds are spread by birds that eat the 'seeds' (in actuality drupes). Of the many bird species that feed on them, the mistle thrush is the best-known in Europe, the Phainopepla in southwestern North America, and Dicaeum of Asia and Australia. Depending on the species of mistletoe and the species of bird, the seeds are regurgitated from the crop, excreted in their droppings, or stuck to the bill, from which the bird wipes it onto a suitable branch. The seeds are coated with a sticky material called viscin. Some viscin remains on the seed and when it touches a stem, it sticks tenaciously. The viscin soon hardens and attaches the seed firmly to its future host, where it germinates and its haustorium penetrates the sound bark.

Specialist mistletoe eaters have adaptations that expedite the process; some pass the seeds through their unusually shaped digestive tracts so fast that a pause for defecation of the seeds is part of the feeding routine. Others have adapted patterns of feeding behavior; the bird grips the fruit in its bill and squeezes the sticky-coated seed out to the side. The seed sticks to the beak and the bird wipes it off onto the branch.

Biochemically, viscin is a complex adhesive mix containing cellulosic strands and mucopolysaccharides.

Once a mistletoe plant is established on its host, it usually is possible to save a valuable branch by pruning and judicious removal of the wood invaded by the haustorium, if the infection is caught early enough. Some species of mistletoe can regenerate if the pruning leaves any of the haustorium alive in the wood.

Luz:

Hunter: You are so cool, I want to kiss you so bad.

Luz: Hey, guess what??

#huntlow

[ryuichirou]

Thanks for feeding us neigevil fans. I love your art so seeing you drawing this ship makes me happy, may the gods of twst gacha be kind to you 🥰

Idk if anyone has asked but thoughts or headcanons of neigevil? What about Rollo?

(We got this ask after this art)

Thank you so much for showing our stuff so much love, NeigeVil fans <3 It means a lot! And I, once again, am sorry that it took me a long time to reply. Like I’ve probably mentioned before, I want to draw these two again at some point. But today is not the day; instead, today is the day you get your headcanons, Anon!

Also if you haven’t seen these yet, here is the link to our post with Rollo-centric headcanons. We love this boy very much, and we’re super excited that he got himself a pretty-looking card.

Alrighty, so Neige/Vil…

Neige has a crush on Vil, and this crush has been with him ever since their first meeting. But he isn’t really sure about the nature of these feelings. He is very open about them with his dwarf friends though: sometimes he comes back from work happy and singing because he met Vil after his photoshoot and had a chat with him. So they all know that he is either in love or just really really really wants to be Vil’s friend. Neige isn’t sure which one it is either.

Neige remembers how cool and professional Vil looked when they first met, how he shook his hand and stuff. It wasn’t Vil’s first time on set, even though it was his first role, so he really made Neige feel comfortable by just being so confident and relaxed and excited. Neige really treasures this memory, but Vil doesn’t seem to remember much of it.

But what Vil does remember is that he thought they were going to become friends back then. Maybe it was because Neige asked him to be his friend, maybe it was because they had a lot of fun that day, but unfortunately it was one of many potential friendships that got ruined by the adults comparing these two to each other. It was pretty early on when Vil decided that he’d never be Neige’s friend. Neige is kind of oblivious to this whole thing though, he thinks that Vil is his friend, and the main reason he’s so distant is that he is just way too cool and professional and busy to hang out with him.

Vil has influenced Neige’s style a lot. He has no idea just how much time Neige spends looking at his magicam and taking notes and trying very hard to find clothes that would look as if Vil has picked them for him. If you talked to him about it, he would chuckle and say that he is too shy to ask Vil directly.

Which isn’t a complete truth though: he isn’t really shy around Vil. He gets so excited that he forgets about his shyness entirely and starts talking and clinging to Vil and trying to make him pay attention to him. He is completely enamored and he stares a lot at him in general. He really wishes they’d spend more time together…

A lot of times Vil just rolls eyes at Neige (always sneakily though, he knows better than to show a fellow actor his distaste for him), but he does admire his professionalism. And yes, there are moments when he thinks that Neige isn’t just overly cute and sweet, but actually quite a good-looking guy. Not entirely his type, but still handsome nonetheless…. Why is he thinking about it, again?

Vil is, like I mentioned, oblivious about Neige’s feelings. If anything, he believes that Neige is simply being a nice innocent boy and is friendly with everyone, so there isn’t anything special about the way he treats Vil. But jokes on you, Vil, because every single selfie with you that Neige takes instantly become Neige’s phone lock screen for weeks, until his management asks him to change it into something else.

Neige doesn’t have a lot of selfies with Vil though, because Vil always comes up with an excuse to avoid it. He is either in a hurry, or doesn’t feel good, or has a bad hair day, there’s always something that prevents Neige from taking a selfie with Vil. So it’s kind of a personal mission for Neige at this point lol Their fanbases also crave for this selfie… The day NeigeVil finally drop a picture of them together, the internet is going to explode.

A couple of spicy ones; if these two were to find themselves in any kind of intimate situation (even if it’s just a pretend thing for a role or something), Neige would comment about how much more experienced Vil is, and how he’ll work hard to be on his level. This comment sounds horrible to Vil in any context: the idea of Neige working hard to be a perfect lover to him is too cursed to consider. But it’ll still make him blush.

And jokes on Vil once again, because Neige is such a fast learner, that one moment he is a very sloppy kisser, and then suddenly he kisses and touches his body in all the right places because “he just felt like it’d make Vi-kun feel nice there”. Vil is going to both get overwhelmed by how good it feels, and be in agony because fuck you Neige stop being a prodigy at everything.

#replies #headcanons #neigevil

[legitimatesatanspawn]

Double checking the timeline reminded me of some fun facts:

Bilbo, Age 18: Frodo's father (Drogo Baggins) is born.

Bilbo, Age 21: The Fell Winter. Loss of crops, "large white wolves" (could be wargs) invade the Shire.

Bilbo, Age 22: Region just south of Brandywine floods.

Bilbo, Age 26: Bilbo's paternal grandmother (Laura Baggins nee Grubb) dies at 102, his father (Bungo Baggins) becomes head of family at 70.

Bilbo, Age 30: Frodo's mother (Primula Baggins nee Brandybuck) is born.

Bilbo, Age 33: Officially considered an adult by Shire reckoning.

Bilbo, Age 36: Bilbo's father (Bungo Baggins) dies at 80. Presumably old age.

Bilbo, Age 44: Bilbo's mother (Belldonna Baggins nee Took) dies at 82. Presumably old age.

Bilbo, Age 50-52: The Dwarf Company meets at Bag End in Hobbiton (50/51), Quest ends (51), Bilbo gets home (52).

Bilbo, Age 78: Frodo is born and presumably lives in Hobbiton.

Bilbo, Age 90; Frodo, Age 12: Frodo's parents die (boating accident). Respectively 72 and 60.

Frodo is taken in by his maternal uncle's family (Rorimac Brandybuck) and lives in Brandy Hall in Buckland. Because his parents would often take him to visit his mother's family there, presumably just as much as they'd visit their Baggins side relatives in Hobbiton.

Bilbo, Age 99; Frodo, Age 21: Bilbo officially names Frodo his heir and brings him to Bag End. Note, it's implied he's had lots of visits and everything in between so its not just out of nowhere.

Bilbo, Age 111; Frodo, Age 33: Gandalf visits Bilbo regarding the Ring. The Birthday Party. Frodo is officially considered an adult in the Shire.

Bilbo, Age 112: Bilbo moves into Rivendell.

Bilbo, Age 128; Frodo, Age 50: Frodo gets visited by Gandalf regarding the Ring. Frodo leaves the Shire and reaches Rivendell. Fellowship is founded.

Bilbo, Age 129; Frodo, Age 51: Sauron is defeated. Later, Grima kills Saruman.

Bilbo, Age 131; Frodo, Age 53: Bilbo and Frodo sail off to Valinor.

Presumably Bilbo and Frodo live near/in Valinor for the rest of their days. Barring health issues, Frodo should live another 40 years.

So remember when Bilbo was stressing out over the dwarves using his mother's glorybox to scrape his traveling boots off on? Keep in mind a glory box is basically a big fancy chest that young women would/do (not sure if some places still do this) put items and goods in to help prepare the dowry and then transport it to the new home.

The fact that Hobbits apparently do dowries considering how they handle gift-giving is a little confusing to me. Bungo Baggins did make Bag End for his new wife, though, so maybe both sides do an equivalent to a dowry?

But even setting aside the fact that it was a keepsake and something he clearly cherished, dude was probably still grieving his parents and here comes this pack of random ass strangers just scraping stuff on it like it's that metal thing outside of some old houses I've seen around here. I forget the word for them. Those little metal plates screwed near to the front door on the pavement so that people can scrape off mud and in some cases dogshit/horseshit before entering someone's home.

Honestly I like those plates more than the welcome mats which are often either too thin to be of real use or too difficult to clean. The plate solves both issues.

Bilbo was essentially a teenager when everyone survived a horrible winter with food shortages and vicious attacks by wolves who either overhunted or ran out of prey in their original territory. And then he was a young adult when his parents died. Hobbits come of age at 33 and live to about 90-100. 110 is old af to them while the oldest known hobbit (before Bilbo) being at 130 as incredible. Give it up for Gerontius Took, everyone: Bilbo's maternal grampa!

Also considering Lobella Sacksville-Baggins is Bilbo's immediate cousin through his father's siblings, we have a massive reason for why Lobella being a salty ass isn't just a personality trait but more about family drama. Your bachelor cousin head of the family who has apparently zero interest in marrying or having kids of his own happily visits all his relatives and makes grand gifts to people as part of the local custom regarding birthday parties (Hobbits give gifts on their birthday rather than receiving them).

And then Bilbo adopts a distant cousin instead. 1st/2nd degree actually based on family but Bilbo's grandfather's brother's great-grandson doesn't roll off as easily, although Bilbo's maternal aunt's grandson does. Meanwhile Lobella is Bilbo's uncle's daughter-in-law making her son Lotho would've been his immediate successor by inheritance laws. Of course, Lobella is no saint and she was preemptively nasty and grabby with things not even hers but I'm gonna admit, if I cared about that I would definitely feel hurt.

#lord of the rings #tolkien #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #lobella sacksville-baggins #the hobbit #character ages #timeline #the fell winter #drogo baggins #bungo baggins #belladona baggins #primula brandybuck #belladonna took #primula baggins #hobbit customs #hobbit culture

[fluffysminion]

Biology of Fortress Dwarves

So I've been playing a lot of dwarf fortress lately, and one thing I've noticed is that dwarves are weird. So naturally I've spent a lot of time thinking about how their biology might work and I've come to the conclusion that the dwarves in dwarf fortress are marsupials. Hear me out, I promise it will make sense.

Large eyes explain many dwarfisms

Dwarf basics

Dwarves are short humanoid creatures that dig holes and build fortresses. They don't need light underground and get cave adapted if they don't get exposed to sunlight often, making them dizzy and confused when they do encounter it. To see in near darkness they would have massive eyes, and for navigating in total darkness long whiskers. The consequences of having huge eyes would explain two other facts about dwarves, namely the fragility of their skulls and their incredible talent for stupidity. No space for brain or bone in their head, it's all eyes.

They will eat just about anything except other dwarves but they don't need to eat often, something that caused me to initially assume they might actually be a form of reptile but is better explained simply by them having a lower body temperature and therefore slower metabolism than a typical mammal. None of this is strong evidence for any particular theory so let's move on.

Urist McCaveAdapted

Dwarf reproduction

Married heterosexual dwarf couples can have babies. Lots of babies. Dwarf women can have aproximately one baby a year, thanks to their short gestation period and the fact that they can become pregnant again immediately after birth. Pregnant dwarves show no outward signs of being pregnant, and birth happens while the mother is about doing her job - which will be interupted as she then looks for the child. Now the main advantage of the marsupial pouch is precisely that, allowing young to be born early reducing the risk to the mother from the birthing process and allowing the mother to get pregnant again sooner. Marsupials are born tiny and able to crawl, so it would make sense that the first thing they need to do after giving birth is find the baby and make sure it makes it into the pouch.

A dwarf mother in a rare moment of remembering her baby exists

Dwarven childcare

Dwarves are babies for one year, during which time their mothers never put them down (unless they are washed down a drain or other misadventure). The mother is able to act normally while carrying her baby, even doing things like fighting or tasks that require both hands. So she must be carrying the baby in some other way, and a marsupial pouch would be ideal for the task. Even the issue of chest deep water causing mothers to loose their offspring makes sense for marsupial dwarves, as one of the limitations of the marsupial pouch is the fact that pouch young are vulnerable to being washed out of the pouch if the adult is in water.

It even explains the lack of beards on dwarf women, as they would get in the way of the baby climbing into the pouch.

Marsupial dwarves. You're welcome.

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#dwarf fortress #dorf fort #df #strike the earth #dwarf #speculative biology #my art #dwarffortress #marsupial dwarves