summary you joined the running man, knowing damn well that the hunter responsible for eliminating you once was the same person who used to whispers sweet nothings to your ear and promised you the world.
warnings 18+. smut. penis in vagina sex. unprotected sex. fingering. angst. lovers to exes. lovers to enemies. doggy style. choking. hair pulling. english is not my first language
author's note definitely not the f1 content u guys were waiting from me but i saw running man and i couldn't stop thinking about this idea 👀
masterlist
you’ve known it was him since the very first broadcast.
that six-foot-five of a towering masked silhouette with lethal, effortless control striding through the chaos like he owns the world. moving with that same deliberate grace that used to make your stomach twist in a different way.
evan mccone.
the man who used to wake you up with soft kisses on your bare shoulder. who whispered “i love you” like it was the easiest truth in the world. who promised forever on a ratty couch in a one-bedroom apartment that smelled like takeout and sex.
that same man whom you watched as he erased himself from your life by bending to dan killian’s offer on live tv.
you told yourself it was a sick joke. you waited for him to come home.
weeks.
months.
nothing.
no explanation.
no goodbye.
just the sudden flood of network propaganda introducing their new star hunter, the enigmatic leader with the grey tactical mask, aviators, and that long dark coat.
as he became the network’s masked god, you were fired. rent was three months overdue, fridge empty. it was the kind of desperation that made a billion new dollar prize sounded like salvation.
even if it meant you would have to survive for 30 days by dodging the man who once knew every inch of your body.
you didn’t care that he was hunting people for sport now. you didn't care that you were now one of those people. you needed the money badly enough to run straight into his game.
it had been eight days.
the other two runners were already gone. one taken out by a civilian tip, the other by a hunter drone strike. you were the last one standing and the world was eating it up.
you knew why you were still alive.
you caught the way he redirected the pack with a tilt of his head when they got too close to your trail. how he let civilian tips on your location went cold before action. he was dragging this out. still protecting you despite everything. and it pissed you off more than anything else.
you slipped through the rain-drenched alleys of the old industrial district, heading for the shitty walk-up apartment you had claimed as a temporary hole. peeling paint, busted locks, no heat. but it was off the grid, no cameras.
you checked over your shoulder out of habit, spotting a shadow that had been following you since two blocks ago.
tall figure in a dark jacket, cap pulled low. no mask tonight. he didn't even try to hide anymore.
you clenched the knife in your pocket harder.
you reached the door, key scraping in the lock before you stepped inside. just as you were closing it, a hand slid between the space, stopping the door from slamming shut. he shoved himself inside before you could react, kicking it closed behind him.
you took out the knife in your pocket, aiming at his throat. “get the fuck out.”
evan stood there, cap thrown without care, jacket zipped down. rain dripped from him onto the cracked floor. his stubbles were thicker, grey eyes dark with faint scars decorating his face from whatever hell he went through after accepting that hunter contract.
he didn't reach for a weapon, just stared.
“i knew you were fucking following me,” you hissed, digging the knife deeper until a thin line of blood beads against his skin, pushing him against the wall.
he didn't flinch, hands raised slightly in mock surrender with that cool nonchalance you hated even when you loved him.
“smart girl. you always did have good instincts.”
“shut the fuck up.” you shove him harder against the wall, but he was stronger. always was.
he moved faster than you remember, catching your wrist, twisting it just enough to force the knife out from your fingers without snapping bone. it hit the floor with a clatter. you kneed him in the thigh, knuckle aiming for his jaw but he caught your arm, spinning you until your back hits the wall with a thud that knocked the breath from your lungs. he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, the other braced beside your face.
up close, he looked older. the exhaustion in his eyes he was trying to hide behind that mask he wears for the world.
“get off of me, you fucking bastard,” you thrashed, struggling against his grip. your body remembered him too well. the heat, the weight and it betrayed you with a traitorous spark low in your belly.
“not until you tell me why you’re really here,” he asked quietly, voice low and rough like it hadn’t been used for anything but orders in years. “why the hell did you join the show?”
you laughed, bitter and sharp. “why the fuck do you think, evan? i’m broke, you fucking asshole. money. survival. same reason you sold your soul to become their masked fucking poster boy.”
his fingers tightened around your wrists. “i took that contract for us. enough money to get you out of this dying country. new names, new life. i was gonna come back for you.”
“you ghosted me. cut me off like i was nothing. then went on tv wearing that mask, murdering people. and now when i’m in your way, you’re going easy on me? taking out the others first? don’t pretend that that's mercy. you just don’t want to pull the trigger yourself.”
something flashed in his eyes. anger? regret? you couldn't tell.
“you think i want you dead?” he asked, sounded more offended about that than you practically calling him a coward.
“you left me to rot. actions speaks louder.”
“i was trying to save you, goddamn it!” he snapped, voice taking on a higher octave. his eyes were wild, all that famous composure shattered.
“i couldn’t give the order. i redirected every sweep. i told them you weren’t worth the resources yet.”
“i don't need your help or your fucking guilt, evan. you knew i can survive this on my own, with or without you. you made your bed, fucking lie in it.”
the air between you crackled, thick with old emotions and something darker. you hated him. you hated how your body arched toward him without permission, how his proximity still set you on fire.
“you broke us,” you whispered fiercely. “you left me to rot in this hellhole. after everything that you promised me.”
“i know. i fucking know. and i hate myself for it every day.”
another pause. you exhaled deeply, exhausted. exhausted from running, hiding, from holding all these feelings bottled inside you for years and letting it all out to him didn't even make you feel any better.
“just kill me.” you sighed. “i’m tired. finish the job. do what they paid you for.”
he stared at you, chest heaving. the silence stretches, electric and violent.
then his mouth crashed into yours.
it wasn't gentle. it was teeth and anger and two years of pent-up everything. you moaned before biting his lip hard enough to taste blood, and he growled into your mouth, releasing your wrists only to grip your hips and grinded against you. your hands fisted in his jacket, yanking him closer even as you cursed him in between kisses.
“fuck you,” you gasped against his lips, nails scraping down his neck.
“yeah,” he muttered, hands sliding under your shirt, rough palms dragging over your skin like he was reclaiming what was his. “keep telling yourself that.”
his free hand dropped between your legs, cupping you roughly through your jeans. you hated how your hips rolled into his palm on instinct.
“look at you,” he murmured against your ear, fingers pressing the seam against your clit. “hate my guts, but dripping the second i touch you.”
you tried to knee him but he wedged his thigh between yours, pinning you harder. he shoved your pants and underwear down enough then shoved a finger inside your soaked heat without warning.
“jesus, listen to that,” he groaned, pumping slow and deep, curling just right. “so fucking wet you’re dripping down my hand. you hate me that much, huh?”
“shut the fuck up,” you gasped, even as your walls fluttered around his finger. “i hate you so fucking much—”
he added a second finger, stretching you, thumb grinding your clit in a ruthless motion.
“then why are you about to come all over my hand?” he demanded, pumping his fingers harder, faster. “why does this pussy still weep every time you see me chasing you?”
“because you ruined me— fuck—”
you sobbed, nails clawing his shoulders, hips grinding shamelessly as you slowly tried to reach your peak.
he chuckled against your ear. “you really tried to move on, huh? but this pretty pussy never forgot who it belongs to.”
“evan—” you gasped, hips chasing his hand.
“that’s it,” he cooed, voice velvet-rough. “come for me, baby. show me how much you missed this.”
you shattered. hard, violent, clenching around his fingers as pleasure ripped through you. he didn't stop. he pumped into you through it until you were shaking and oversensitive
only then did he pull his hand free, bringing his glistening fingers to your mouth.
“clean them.”
you bit him instead. he laughed, low and dark, shoving them past your teeth anyway. you moaned, swirling your tongue as you tasted yourself on his digits as he forced you to suck.
“good girl,” he praised and your pussy clenched around nothing. “still know how to take what i give you.”
you slapped him across the face.
hard.
enough to snap his head sideways.
he turns back slowly, cheek red, eyes blazing. “do that again and i’ll choke you while i fuck you raw.”
your pussy throbbed.
“do it,” you challenged, voice shaking with rage and want. “i dare you.”
he groaned, ripping your clothes then his own before he threw you on the bed, flipping you onto your stomach and yanked your hips up.
his hand wrapped around your throat instantly until your back met his chest. firm, possessive, cutting just enough air to make your pulse thundered. he took his cock, thick, flushed, already leaking and teased your slit.
“say it.” he demanded. “tell me how much this pussy wants to be ruined again.”
“i want it.” you replied almost immediately, already shaking. “please. fuck me.”
evan didn't waste any more time. he slammed into you in one slow, deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
“still so fucking tight,” he grunted, releasing your throat. your body went limp, collapsing onto the mattress as he fucked you.
“two years and no one else stretched this cunt right, did they?”
“don’t flatter yourself—”
he stopped to slap your ass hard, the crack echoing. “lie to me again, i dare you.”
another slap, harder. you moaned despite yourself, body jerking forward before he drove into you again.
he leaned over you, chest to your back, hand sliding down to fist your hair and bring you up as he pounded deeper.
“say you’re mine.” he whispered into your ear, hand sliding down to rub your clit in unrelenting circles.
“no—”
he pulled out almost completely, hand leaving your hair then slammed back in so hard the bedframe cracked against the wall. “say it.”
“fuck you—”
he stilled, buried to the hilt, and you nearly sobbed from the loss of friction.
“say it, or i’ll leave you like this.
“you wouldn’t—”
he started pulling out, slowly, and you whimper.
“evan, move. you bastard—”
“say it.”
you broke, voice cracking. “i’m yours— god— i’m still yours— please, fuck me—”
he groaned in victory, hand again around your throat to pull you back to his chest and fucked you with his other hand rubbing your clit like he was trying to split you apart.
“do it. come on my cock, baby. come on.”
and you did, walls spasming around him with a cry that was half-sob, half his name.
he followed seconds later, thrusting deep and spilling inside you with a guttural “mine— fuck— you're mine.”
you collapsed trembling, his weight heavy on your back. his hand stays loosely around your throat, thumb stroking your pulse like a claim.
he didn't pull away immediately. just stayed there, forehead pressed to your back, both of you panting in the dim light.
“this doesn’t change anything,” you whispered
“i know.”
he finally stepped back, zipping up. you straightened, pulling on what was left of your clothes, avoiding his eyes.
“tomorrow,” he said quietly, heading for the door. “stay off the main grids. head east.”
you just nodded. you didn't thank him. none of you said goodbye.
Warnings: S M U T, p in v, secret relationship, no plot really
WC: ~3k
A/N: enjoyyyy🫢
The stone corridors of the Elvenking's halls are silent, lit by the soft, ethereal glow of lanterns that seem to breathe with a life of their own. You move through them like a shadow, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, a rhythm of fear and anticipation. Every footfall is muffled by the thick carpets, but you feel as loud as a war drum. You are a human, a creature of fleeting years and clumsy limbs, in a place of timeless grace and predatory beauty. And you are walking into the lion's den.
You reach the great doors of his throne room, carved from the very wood of the forest and inlaid with silver and gold. They stand ajar, a silent, mocking invitation. With a trembling hand, you push them wider and slip inside.
The room is vast and cavernous, a testament to power and age. At its far end, upon a throne carved from the living root of a great oak, sits Thranduil. He is not looking at you. His gaze is fixed on some distant point, his profile sharp and regal, a study in arrogant perfection. His silver-gold hair cascades over his shoulders like a frozen waterfall, and his robes, the color of deep winter twilight, pool around his feet. He is magnificent, terrifying, and entirely yours in these stolen moments.
"You are late."
His voice cuts through the silence, not loud, but impossibly clear. It's a low purr that vibrates through the marble floor and up your legs, settling as a deep, throbbing ache in your core. You flinch, stopping in your tracks.
"My lord," you begin, your voice barely a whisper. "I had to ensure the way was clear. The guards—"
"The guards are of no consequence," he interrupts, finally turning his head. His eyes, the piercing blue of a winter sky, lock onto yours. There is no warmth in them, only a cold, assessing fire. "You are late because you enjoy the thrill of disobedience. You enjoy the thought of my displeasure."
It's an accusation, but it's also the truth. A slow, dangerous smile curves his lips. "Come here."
You obey, your feet moving of their own accord, carrying you across the vast expanse of the floor until you stand at the foot of the dais, looking up at him. He leans forward, his elbows resting on the arms of his throne, his chin propped on his steepled fingers.
"Remove your dress."
The command is simple, direct, and leaves no room for argument. Your fingers shake as you fumble with the laces at the back of your simple, serviceable gown. The fabric pools at your feet, leaving you naked and vulnerable in the cold, grand chamber. You feel his gaze like a physical touch, a caress of ice that burns. He takes in every detail: the swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the dark triangle of hair at the juncture of your thighs.
"Turn around," he orders.
You do, slowly, presenting your back to him. You hear the rustle of silk as he rises from his throne. His footsteps are silent as he approaches. You feel his presence behind you, a towering force of contained energy. Then, his hand is on your shoulder, tracing the line of your spine with a single, cool finger. The touch sends a shiver through you, raising goosebumps on your skin.
"So fragile," he murmurs, his lips close to your ear. "So warm. So mortal."
His hands grip your arms, turning you to face him. He is so close you can feel the chill radiating from his body, can see the faint, ancient scars that mar the perfection of his face. He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones.
"I have thought of this all day," he confesses, his voice a low growl. "Of your taste, your scent. Of the sounds you make when you are lost to pleasure."
He crashes his mouth down on yours. It is not a kiss of romance or affection. It is a claiming, a brutal act of possession. His teeth nip at your lower lip, drawing a small bead of blood, which he laps away with his tongue. His tongue invades your mouth, a relentless, demanding force. You kiss him back with equal desperation, your hands tangling in the silk of his robes, pulling him closer.
He breaks the kiss as suddenly as it began, his chest heaving slightly. His eyes are dark with a primal hunger that makes your breath catch. He takes a step back, his gaze sweeping over you once more before he makes a sharp, dismissive gesture.
"On the floor," he commands, his voice cold and hard as steel.
The words hit you like a physical blow. You hesitate for a fraction of a second, and his eyes narrow. "Must I repeat myself?"
You sink to your knees, the cold, unforgiving marble a shock against your skin. He watches you, his expression unreadable, as you lower yourself onto your hands and knees before him. It is a position of utter submission, and the humiliation of it mingles with a dark, thrilling excitement.
He circles you slowly, like a predator surveying its prey. He stops behind you, and you feel the heavy weight of his boot as he places it between your shoulder blades, applying a gentle but firm pressure. You gasp, your arms trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.
"You are a sight," he says, his voice thick with satisfaction. "A human, on her knees for her Elvenking. Does it excite you? This degradation?"
You can only whimper in response, your face burning with shame and desire.
He removes his foot, and you hear the soft whisper of silk as he sheds his robes. Then, he is kneeling behind you, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him. You feel the hard, thick length of him pressing against your slick folds through the thin fabric of his leggings. He is huge, a fact that has both terrified and thrilled you in your previous encounters.
He grinds against you, a slow, torturous rhythm that has you moaning and pushing back against him, desperate for more. "Tell me what you want," he demands, his voice a harsh whisper.
"You," you gasp. "Please, Thranduil, I want you."
A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. "As you wish."
He fumbles with the fastenings of his pants, and you hear the rustle of fabric. And then, you feel it, the hot, velvety skin of his cock against your entrance. He teases you for a moment, rubbing the head of his shaft against your clit, coating himself in your wetness. You are squirming, panting, desperate for him to fill you.
He doesn't wait. He doesn't prepare you. With a single, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you.
A sharp, searing pain tears through you as his immense size stretches you beyond your limits. It's a white-hot agony that steals your breath and makes you cry out, a raw sound of shock and pain. Your arms give out, and you collapse onto the cold stone, your cheek pressed against the marble as tears spring to your eyes.
He stills for a moment, his body a heavy weight over yours, his chest heaving against your back. You can feel his heart beating, a slow, steady rhythm against your frantic pulse.
"Be still," he murmurs, his voice surprisingly gentle against your ear. "Breathe. The pain will pass. I did not intend to hurt you."
His words are a balm, but the pain is still a raw, throbbing fire. You try to obey, taking ragged breaths as your body struggles to adjust to his impossible size. He is still inside you, a hot, hard presence that fills you completely. The pain begins to subside, slowly, replaced by a deep, aching fullness that is not entirely unpleasant.
He starts to move then, slowly at first, his hips rocking in a deliberate, careful rhythm. Each movement sends a jolt through you, a mix of lingering pain and an undeniable pleasure that begins to bloom in your belly. He is being gentle, a stark contrast to his earlier brutality.
"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice laced with a rare hint of concern.
You nod, your face still pressed against the floor. "Yes," you whisper, your voice hoarse. "Don't stop."
His response is a low growl of approval. He picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper. The sounds of your coupling fill the vast throne room, the slap of skin against skin, his ragged grunts, your desperate cries. He is relentless, his grip on your hips tightening as he pistons into you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.
"You are mine," he growls, his voice thick with possession. "Every inch of you belongs to me. This body, this pleasure… it is all mine to give and to take as I please."
His words are your undoing. You shatter around him, your inner walls clenching tightly as waves of pleasure crash over you. It's a powerful, all-consuming orgasm that leaves you trembling and breathless. He follows you over the edge with a loud groan, his body tensing as he spills himself deep inside you, his hot release a soothing balm to your abused flesh.
You collapse onto the floor, your body trembling and spent. He stays inside you for a moment longer before withdrawing, his essence leaking out of you and onto the stone beneath. You feel empty, aching, but strangely sated.
He rises to his feet, adjusting his clothing before looking down at you, his expression once again cold and unreadable. "We're not finished," he says, his voice a low command that sends a fresh wave of anticipation through your exhausted body.
He reaches down, his hand closing around your upper arm. His grip is firm, almost bruising, as he hauls you to your feet. Your legs are unsteady, trembling from the intensity of your release and the lingering ache from his rough entry. He doesn't give you a moment to find your balance, instead half-dragging, half-leading you across the vast expanse of the throne room towards the dais.
You stumble up the steps, your bare feet slapping against the cold stone. He stops before his great throne, a monstrosity of carved wood and ancient power, and pushes you down onto it. You land with a soft gasp, the hard, unyielding wood a shock against your bare skin. The carved arms dig into your back, but the discomfort is a distant sensation, overshadowed by the look in his eyes.
He stands before you, a towering figure of silver and shadow. His gaze sweeps over you, taking in your disheveled hair, your flushed skin, the marks he has left on your neck and breasts. He looks at you as if you are a prize he has just won, a treasure to be admired and then consumed.
"Spread your legs," he orders, his voice flat and devoid of emotion.
It's a humiliating command, given here, in the seat of his power. But you obey without hesitation, your body responding to his authority even when your mind reels. Your legs fall open, exposing your glistening, swollen sex, still slick with your arousal and his release. The cool air of the room feels like a caress against your heated flesh.
A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. He kneels before you, his movements fluid and graceful, a predator descending upon its prey. His eyes are fixed on the most intimate part of you, his gaze so intense it feels like a physical touch. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, a frantic, desperate rhythm.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice a low, husky rumble. "So wanton, so beautifully debauched. My human queen, sitting on my throne, her body open and waiting for me."
He leans forward, and you feel his hot breath against your sensitive flesh. You gasp, your hands flying to the carved arms of the throne, your knuckles turning white as you grip them tightly. Then, his tongue is on you, a hot, wet flame against your clit.
He devours you with a hunger that borders on feral. His tongue is a masterful instrument, swirling and flicking, lapping at your folds, tasting the mixture of your arousal and his own release. He is not gentle. He is rough, demanding, his mouth working you with a single-minded purpose that leaves you breathless and begging.
Your hands find their way into his hair, your fingers tangling in the silky strands as you grind your hips against his face. He growls against you, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure through your entire body. He brings you to the brink again and again, his tongue and teeth driving you wild, only to pull back at the last moment, leaving you dangling on the precipice of release, desperate and begging for more.
"Please, Thranduil," you whimper, your hips bucking wildly, your body aching for release.
He chuckles against your skin, a dark, satisfied sound. "Please what?" he teases, his tongue flicking against your clit in a feather-light touch that is almost painful.
"Please… let me come," you beg, your voice a hoarse cry of desperation.
"Again," he demands, his voice a low growl of command. "Beg me properly."
"Please, my lord," you cry out, your body writhing in ecstasy and agony. "Please, I need to come. I'll do anything, just please… let me come."
This time, he grants your wish. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it as he slides two long, elegant fingers inside you. He curls them, hitting that magical spot deep within you that makes you see stars. You scream his name as your orgasm rips through you, more intense than the last, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to drown you. Your body convulses, your back arching off the hard wood of the throne as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.
He continues to lick and suck at you, drawing out your pleasure until you are a whimpering, trembling mess. Only when you are completely spent does he rise, his face glistening with your juices, a triumphant, possessive glint in his eyes.
He unfastens his trousers once more, his cock already hard and ready, standing proud and erect. It's a magnificent sight, a testament to his Elven vitality, and a fresh wave of desire courses through you despite your exhaustion.
"Turn around," he commands.
You scramble to obey, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated. You turn to face the back of the throne, your hands gripping the carved wood for support. He positions himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him. He enters you in a single, smooth thrust, this time with more care, but no less intensity. He is still impossibly big, and you feel a familiar ache as he stretches you, but it's a good ache, a pleasurable ache that speaks of his possession.
He sets a punishing pace, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. His hands grip your shoulders, pulling you back to meet his powerful strokes, driving himself deeper and deeper inside you. The sounds of your coupling fill the vast throne room, a symphony of flesh and desire, of gasps and groans and the creaking of the ancient throne.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, his lips against your ear. "Taking me on my throne. So wanton, so shameless. You are a disgrace to your race, and yet you are the most exquisite creature I have ever laid eyes on."
His words, combined with the feel of him inside you, push you to the edge once more. You can feel another orgasm building, a slow, creeping heat that starts in your toes and spreads through your entire body. He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts.
"Come for me," he growls, his voice a harsh command. "Come for your king."
You shatter around him, your body shaking with the force of your release. It's a powerful, all-consuming orgasm that leaves you weak and trembling. He follows you over the edge with a loud groan, his body tensing as he spills himself deep inside you for the second time, his hot release a comforting warmth against your inner walls.
He stays inside you for a moment longer, his forehead resting against your back, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Then he withdraws, helping you to your feet. Your legs are like jelly, and you stumble, but he catches you, pulling you into his arms.
For a moment, his embrace is surprisingly tender. He holds you close, his hand stroking your hair, his touch gentle and caring. You lean into him, your body sated and content, your head resting against his chest. You can feel the steady beat of his heart, a slow, calming rhythm against your ear.
But the moment is fleeting. He pulls away, his expression once again cold and distant. He straightens his robes, his movements precise and economical, as if the passionate, primal creature of moments ago had never existed.
"You should go," he says, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Before you are missed."
You nod, your heart aching at the sudden change in him. You reach for your discarded dress, your movements slow and clumsy. As you pull it over your head, you turn to look at him one last time. He is already back on his throne, his gaze fixed on some distant point, as if you are no longer in the room.
You slip out of the throne room and into the shadows of the corridor, your body aching and your heart heavy. You are his, body and soul, and you wouldn't have it any other way. But as you make your way back to your humble chambers, you can't help but wonder if you will ever be more to him than just a fleeting pleasure, a temporary distraction in his long, immortal life.
The thought is a bitter pill to swallow, but you push it aside. For now, you have his attention, his touch, his possession. And for you, that is enough.
"Come, let us get you into bed. You need your rest."
Pairing: Thranduil x fem! Human reader
Genre: Romantic smut
Word count: 4.4k
Summary: You’re the King's human lover and you share a special night together.
Warnings: Romantic sex, oral fem receiving, riding him, unprotected sex, p in v sex
a/n: Guys please bear with me, I’m working on some new lotr/th oneshots that shall also be posted soon. As per usual, please let me know if you have any requests and I hope you enjoy.
Thranduil had a quiet moment to himself, laying in a field of flowers as the sun set behind him. He had a look of tranquility on his face as his mind wandered to many different things. He kept his eyes closed. He heard footsteps coming near him, he didn't give a reaction to this though.. he had an idea of who it was.
“You look so peaceful like this,” you hum, lowering to your knees next to his muscular body. You brush his hair from his face, touch light and delicate.
Thranduil didn't move a muscle when you knelt down in the grass beside him. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke, his eyes still shut for the time being. “I am at peace, for now..” He said before his lips curled into a small smile.
“Until someone decides to ruin it,” he added, opening one of his eyes and looking up at you with a slight teasing tone in the last part.
You press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Shall I leave you alone then?” Thranduil's smile widened into a grin as your soft lips brushed against his.
He chuckled softly as he took your hand, looking up at you with a playful look in his eyes. “Don’t you dare,” he said in a quiet but firm tone.
“Come. Lay with me.” His voice turned more of a request as he tugged on your hand ever so gently, coaxing you to lay down next to him in the flowers.
You press your cheek to his chest, eyes fluttering shut as you listen to his heart. “As you wish my King.”
Thranduil wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest as his hand came up to brush through your hair gently in a soothing manner. He gently took one of your hands in his free one, intertwining his fingers with yours.
His chest rose and fell with each deep breath as the two of you lay there in the grass, just listening to one another's heartbeats. "That's a good girl.." he murmured with a soft, affectionate smile.
You find yourself drifting off to sleep, the warmth and comfort of his body like a lullaby. Thranduil noticed your eyes growing heavy and your breathing starting to slow, it was a sure sign that you were falling asleep.
He carefully wrapped his arms around you, gently rolling onto his side to pull you closer, holding your body flush against his. "It's okay, little one. Rest.." he spoke quietly, one of his hands gently tracing soft patterns down your back as he held you in a protective embrace, the sound of his steady heartbeat in your ear.
“Mm..” your voice is a soft murmur as you cuddle closer to him.
Thranduil smiled as you cuddled closer to him, his arms holding you in a firm yet gentle embrace as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling your scent. He gently nuzzled his head against yours, relishing in your warm and softness against him.
"Sleep, my darling," he whispered softly, gently starting to stroke his fingers through your hair as he held you in his arms. Thranduil's chest rose and fell with each quiet breath, finding himself starting to grow just as relaxed as you.
After hours of holding you in his arms, Thranduil felt you shiver slightly as a cold breeze blew through the garden, gently stirring the grass around them. Thranduil's heart ached to see you cold, his arms instinctively holding you tighter in an attempt to keep you warm.
He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, before carefully pulling you even closer to his chest. "Are you cold, my love?" he murmured quietly, his fingers continuing to glide softly through your hair.
“It is growing cold, Thranduil..” you murmur against his chest, not willing to leave his warm side.
Thranduil gently adjusted his grip on you, pulling you closer against him, almost as if he was trying to shield you from the chill in the air. He lifted one of his hands from your hair, tracing it to your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin, before he spoke again.
"We should head inside. You'll freeze out here.." he said in a low, gentle tone, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft kiss.
“Could you carry me..” you bury your face into his chest, shivering against him.
Thranduil felt your body shiver against him once more, and he gently lifted his head off of yours so he could look down at you. He chuckled softly as he heard your request, gently running his hand down your back.
"Of course, darling," he said with a hint of fond amusement. With a slightly playful smirk on his face, he shifted his body, carefully scooping you up into his arms, holding you tight against his chest.
Thranduil walked through the halls of his palace while carrying you in his arms, his long strides eating up the distance quickly. He could feel you melting against him as he walked, feeling a sense of satisfaction of being able to provide you with warmth and comfort.
Soon enough, he reached your shared room and he pushed the doors open with one hand, stepping inside and lowering you gently onto the bed.
You cuddle into the sheets, your skirt hiked up over your hips, revealing your smooth skin to his gaze.
Thranduil's eyes roamed over your body as you settled onto the bed, his gaze lingering on your exposed skin. His eyes darkened slightly as he took in the sight of you, looking so vulnerable, so delicate, and yet so alluring at the same time.
His own clothes were slightly disheveled, the top of his shirt unbuttoned ever so slightly, adding to the overall rugged appearance. He could feel a familiar heat rise in the pit of his stomach as he looked at you, slowly approaching the bed.
Thranduil's breath caught in his throat as you wrapped your arms around the pillow, your legs slightly parted and revealing even more of your skin to him. He could feel the tension in the air as he watched you, his eyes tracing along the curves of your body, like a predator stalking its prey.
He approached the foot of the bed, slowly crawling onto the mattress behind you, his large form hovering over you as his hands rested on either side of your hips.
“My king..” you murmur, relishing in his touch. Thranduil leaned down, bringing his body close to yours, his chest pressing against your back as he leaned down towards your ear. His breath ghosted across your skin, making you shiver as he gently spoke in a low, deep tone.
"Yes, darling?" he muttered, his hands on your hips, rubbing small, teasing circles against the bare flesh of your skin. He could feel your body heat against his, his own desire growing more and more as he looked down at you.
“You’re trying to seduce me..” you murmur against the plush pillow.
Thranduil chuckled softly, his hands slowly moving up and down your sides, his touch just light enough to tickle. "Is it working?" he spoke in a low, sultry tone, his breath warm against the nape of your neck. He lowered his head, gently nibbling on the exposed skin just below your ear, his tongue darting out to taste you.
You moan softly, enjoying the gentleness of his caresses. “Perhaps it is,” Thranduil's lips curled into a small grin as he heard your moan, the sound like music to his ears.
He gently licked and kissed the sensitive skin of your exposed neck, his hands continuing to roam over your body, tracing every curve, every dip and contour of your form.
"Perhaps?" he repeated with a hint of amusement in his voice, his mouth finding its way to your shoulder, gently nipping at the soft flesh. "Only perhaps..?" he teased softly, his thumbs pressing into your hip bones.
“My King..” You gasp, feeling the familiar warmth in the pit of your stomach as he touches you.
Thranduil continued to shower your exposed skin with kisses and nibbling, his eyes roaming over every inch of your body as he continued to touch you intimately. At the sound of your gasp, he let out a low, approving hum against the skin of your neck, his hands slowly moving from your hips, running up along your sides, to your stomach.
"Does it feel good, my darling..?" he murmured quietly, his fingers gently tracing patterns against your skin, leaving little jolts of pleasure in their wake.
“Very good..” you moan, shifting beneath him so you can gaze up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck.
Thranduil let out a soft, guttural sound of approval as you shifted beneath him, his hands still gently caressing your skin as his eyes met yours. He could feel the heat and desire building between the two of you, the air growing heavier as you looked up at him.
He couldn't deny the effect you had on him; just the sight of you alone was enough to make his heart clench. Thranduil slowly lowered himself down, his body resting fully against yours as he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, searing kiss.
You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging at the roots softly as your legs wrap around his hips.
Thranduil let out a low growl as you tangled your fingers in his hair, the tug on his scalp sending a wave of pleasure throughout his entire body. He pressed himself down onto you, his hips slotting perfectly in between your legs as you wrapped them around him, trapping him against you.
He couldn't help himself from pressing himself against you, his own desire growing more and more intense as he felt your body against his. Thranduil's lips moved furiously against yours as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance into your mouth.
Thranduil felt a shudder of pleasure as you parted your lips in submission, his tongue slipping past to explore your mouth as he claimed it for his own. He savored the taste of you, his own lust and hunger fueling his actions as he kissed you like an elf starved.
His hands slid down your body, seeking purchase and finding purchase on your thighs as he pushed them further apart. His own hips rocked against yours, the thin barrier that remained between their bodies slowly becoming an increasing irritant.
Your muffled moans fill his mouth as he grinds against you, sending shivers of pleasure through you. Thranduil swallowed each moan you made as he continued to kiss you, his hips rolling against yours in an almost feral manner.
The friction between you was maddening, only adding more fuel to the fire burning within him. He could feel your body's response to his movements, each shiver and shudder driving him even further to take what he wanted, to claim what was his.
Thranduil broke the kiss, lifting his head so he could look down at you, his eyes roaming over your flushed, panting form. "You're mine..." he breathed in a low, possessive tone.
“Always, I’m forever yours my King.” You cup his face, lips parted and cheeks flushed.
Thranduil's heart jumped in his chest at your words, the pure devotion in your voice making his own desires flare even stronger. He leaned into your touch as you cupped his face, his eyes dark and stormy as he looked down at you with a mixture of lust, love, and possessiveness in his gaze.
"You better be," he said in a low, gruff tone, his voice heavy with emotions. "Because I have no intention of letting you go, my darling. Ever."
You smile up at him feeling his fingers tugging at the hem of your skirt. “I shall not leave your side, love.”
With a gentle yet firm tug, Thranduil lifts the dress from your body, the fabric slipping off your skin like silk. He pauses for a moment, drinking in the sight of you laid bare before him, your curves and contours bathed in the soft glow of candlelight.
His eyes sparkle with hunger and admiration as they rove over your flesh, lingering on the swell of your breasts and the dip of your waist. He lets out a soft groan, his desire palpable in the air as his hands move to trace the newly exposed skin, his fingertips leaving a trail of heat wherever they go.
You can feel his arousal pressing into you, the proof of his desire for you unmistakable. His gaze meets yours, filled with a fierce love and a burning need to possess you completely.
With eager, trembling hands, Thranduil tugged at his own clothing, each button and lace coming undone with a sense of urgency. His garments fell away, revealing the sculpted planes of his body, his muscles defined by moonlight and shadows.
His eyes never leaving yours, he reached out to cup your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples in a feather-light touch that has you arching your back with a silent plea. He smiles, a smoldering fire in his gaze, and then his hands slid down your body, his fingers hooking into the delicate fabric of your panties.
With a firm, yet gentle pull, he slid them down your legs, baring you fully to him. His arousal grew even more prominent as he took in the sight of your naked body, your legs open and inviting, revealing your slick and swollen folds that begged for his touch.
He leaned back down to kiss you once more, his hand moving to caress the soft, wet warmth between your thighs, his fingers slipping inside you easily, making you gasp into his mouth.
With a soft growl of desire, Thranduil settled himself between your open thighs, his eyes never leaving yours as he lowered his head to the juncture of your legs. His mouth watered at the sight of your glistening sex, your arousal like a sweet nectar to him.
He took his time, savoring the moment as he gently parted your folds with his thumbs, exposing the delicate pearl of your clit to the cool air. His tongue darted out, tracing a line from your entrance up to the sensitive bud, tasting you with a hunger that was centuries in the making.
His touch was feather-light, yet firm, as he licked and kissed you with an expertise that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Each stroke of his tongue against your clit brought forth a new gasp, each nip of his teeth a shiver of delight.
He held your legs wide open, keeping you open to his ministrations as he explored every part of you with his mouth, his teeth grazing against your inner thighs, his tongue delving deep inside you, and his breath fanning the flames of your passion. His hands remained on your hips, keeping you firmly in place as he devoured you, his mouth moving with a rhythm that was both torturously slow and exquisitely perfect.
You could feel yourself growing wetter, your body responding to his every touch, your legs trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy.
Your back arches off the bed as needy moans escape your lips, your entire body quivering with the intensity of the pleasure he's giving you. Thranduil's mouth is relentless, his tongue flicking and circling your clit with a precision that speaks of centuries of experience.
His strong hands hold your hips in place as you try to buck against him, the sensations threatening to overwhelm you. His teeth graze against your sensitive skin, sending jolts of pleasure through your body that make your toes curl and your fingers clutch at the bedsheets. You can feel your orgasm building, a coil of tension tightening in your belly as his mouth works its magic.
You're so close, so very close, and he seems to know it as he increases the tempo, his tongue dancing over your clit in a way that has you on the brink. Finally, with one last, firm flick of his tongue, you fall over the edge, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crash through you.
You're a trembling mess under him, your body wracked with spasms as he continues to kiss and suck, drawing out every last drop of your climax before finally, mercifully, letting you collapse back onto the bed. He watches you with a smug smile, licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you, fully sated and utterly his.
With a gentle touch, Thranduil brushed your hair away from your cheeks, his eyes filled with love and concern as he studied your flushed face. "Are you tired, my love?" he asked in a voice that was a blend of tenderness and desire, his breath warm against your skin.
His thumbs traced the outline of your jaw, his gaze lingering on the way your chest rose and fell with each ragged breath you took, your breasts pressing against his chest with each gasp. The question hung in the air, filled with the promise of more intimate moments to come if you weren't too exhausted from the passionate encounter.
As you nod softly in response to Thranduil's question, you reach down and wrap your hand around his thick, aroused length. The velvety skin is hot to the touch, pulsing with the beat of his heart, and your grip tightens slightly, feeling the veins that run along his shaft.
"I'm not too tired to make sure you're satisfied," you murmur against his ear, a hint of mischief in your voice as you start to stroke him, your hand moving in a slow, firm rhythm. Thranduil's eyes close, his breath hitching in his throat as your touch sends waves of pleasure through him.
His hands tighten around your hips in response, pulling you closer as he lets out a low groan of appreciation. His eyes flutter open, meeting yours, and he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with affection and desire.
"Thank you," he whispers, his voice strained with pleasure, as he leans down to kiss you once more, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip before delving back into your mouth.
With a soft whine of anticipation, you position yourself over Thranduil's erect length, the tip nudging against your entrance as you hover for a brief moment. Looking into his eyes, filled with a fiery passion that matches your own, you slowly start to sink down onto him.
The initial stretch is exquisite, his warmth and hardness filling you in a way that feels so right, so perfect. His hands tighten around your waist, guiding you down as he groans into your kiss, feeling the tightness of your body enveloping him inch by inch.
Each breath you take is shallower than the last, each movement of your hips sending shockwaves through both of you. Once you're fully seated on him, you pause, savoring the feeling of fullness before you begin to rock gently, setting a rhythm that's as ancient as the forest itself.
Thranduil's eyes never leave yours, his hands roaming over your skin as if he's trying to memorize every line and curve by touch alone. His breath hitches in his throat with every movement you make, every gasp and whimper that escapes your lips.
The bond between you, the connection of flesh and soul, is palpable as you move together, lost in a dance that's both fierce and tender, a symphony of love and lust that echoes through the very air of the room.
As you reached up to gently trace the pointed tips of Thranduil's ears with your fingertips, his eyes rolled back in pleasure, his hands guiding the rhythm of your hips as you moved above him. The soft touch was a heady sensation that seemed to resonate through his entire being, making him shiver and his grip on you tighten.
His breathing grew ragged, matching the pace of your movements, as you both danced together in the throes of passion. Each brush of your fingers against his sensitive skin sent bolts of pleasure through his body, making him growl low in his throat, his hips rising to meet yours with increasing urgency.
The room was filled with the sweet symphony of your combined sighs and moans, the rustling of the bed, and the occasional clank of his jewelry as his head moved back and forth against the pillow. Your breasts bounced with each thrust, the friction of your skin against his sending sparks of desire through both of you.
Thranduil's eyes remained locked on you, his expression a mix of love, need, and pure animal instinct. The way you touched him was like nothing he had ever felt before you, a tender yet powerful caress that seemed to ignite every nerve ending in his body.
As you continued to ride him, his own movements grew more demanding, his hands moving from your hips to cup your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples as his hips met yours in a relentless rhythm that sent shockwaves of pleasure through both of you.
Thranduil's eyes widened in pleasure as he felt your inner muscles tighten around him, signaling your approaching climax. His own was building, the pressure inside him growing with each stroke as your bodies moved as one.
With a final, deep thrust, he swelled inside you, filling you completely as he reached his peak. The pleasure was intense, a crescendo of sensation that seemed to consume him entirely. You gasped as your orgasm washed over you, your body clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you.
The bond between you grew stronger, your spirits intertwining as your love and desire for each other reached new heights. Thranduil's eyes squeezed shut, a roar of ecstasy tearing from his throat as he released himself within you, the warmth of his essence mixing with the heat of your passion.
Together, you rode the crest of the wave, your bodies trembling with the force of your shared climax, until finally, you collapsed against him, both spent and utterly content.
Thranduil gently untangled himself from your embrace, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before rising from the bed. His eyes roved over your spent form, a mixture of love and adoration evident in his gaze.
He padded across the room, stepping into the connected bathroom. He turned on the taps of the large, stone bathtub, filling the room with the sound of rushing water and steam. As the tub filled, he added some scented essential oils to the water, creating a relaxing aroma that filled the air.
Once the bath was ready, Thranduil returned to the bedside, his gaze meeting yours. You gaze at him through hooded eyes, reaching for his soft blond hair.
Thranduil's hand found yours, and he gently helped you off the bed. "Come, my love," he murmured, his voice still husky. With steady steps, he led you into the bathroom, the steam from the warm water filling the room.
He helped you into the bathtub, his touch tender and careful as he guided you in. Once you were settled, he called for a servant to change the bedding, his voice carrying out into the hallway.
“Will you join me?” You murmur, sinking into the warmth of the water. Thranduil's eyes darkened as he watched you sink into the warm water, your body enveloped in steam and bubbles.
"Of course," he murmurs in response, his voice rough with desire. "I could never resist joining you." He entered the tub, settling in behind you, his strong legs on either side of you.
Thranduil's hands caressed your wet skin, lovingly trailing over every dip and curve as he gently washed away the remnants of your recent encounter. With each touch and movement, his love and devotion for you shone through, his fingers tracing patterns against your skin that felt like a silent declaration of his love.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his mouth hovering just beside your ear. "Every inch of you is perfect."
“My King…” you murmur, relaxing into his strong chest, your eyes flutter closed.
Thranduil wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against him so that your back was flush against his chest. His chin rested on top of your head, and he inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of your hair.
"Yes, my darling?" he asked softly, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your stomach.
“You flatter me too much.” You reply, head falling back against his shoulder as you relish in his touch.
Thranduil chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He moved his head down to place a soft kiss on your neck, his mouth skimming along your skin until it reached your ear.
"I cannot flatter you enough," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "Every word I say to you is true. You are everything to me, and I will never tire of telling you how beautiful and perfect you are."
“You are beautiful as well, my love.” He washes your body as you lean against him comforted by his warmth.
Thranduil's hands continued their gentle caresses as he washed your body, his touch strong but still impossibly tender. He savored the feeling of your body pressing against his, and he took his time, relishing the moment.
"Your words are sweet," he murmured, his voice low, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "But it is you who brings the true beauty into my life."
Thranduil carefully pulls you out of the water, his hands gentle and strong as he wraps a soft, warm towel around you. He takes his time drying you off, his touch reverent as he caresses each inch of your skin.
Once you are dry, he helps you into your nightgown, his fingers grazing over your sensitive skin in lingering touches. "There," he murmurs, stepping back to admire you. "Perfect."
“Thranduil, my love.” You cup his cheek, kissing his lips gently.
Thranduil's eyes closed at your touch, a low growl of pleasure rumbling in his chest as you kissed him gently. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you closer against his chest. He deepened the kiss, his mouth claiming yours with a fierce but tender passion.
"My darling," he breathed against your lips. "You undo me with a single touch."
Thranduil's gaze softened as he looked down at you, taking note of the exhaustion in your eyes. "But you’re weary," he observed, lifting a hand to caress your cheek gently.
His thumb traced over your skin in soothing circles, his touch filled with tenderness. "Come, let us get you into bed. You need your rest."
Summary: You're at work, trying to look after your daughter, but someone always seems to be faster.
a/n: I was at work today and, after having an insanely stressful time planning operations for ten hours, I ended up writing a one-shot rather than resting after getting home
"What are you going to do when someone opens the door?"
"Hide!"
"That's my smart girl!" You crouched down to give your daughter a kiss on the head, and she let out a giggle.
Your daughter was definitely the only good thing to come out of Co-Op City, and she was the only thing that kept you going. Otherwise, you would probably have put a bullet through your head by now.
You gave your three-year-old daughter a tight hug and motioned towards the toys you had laid out on the ground. "Have fun, my duckling," you said.
"I will!" She said enthusiastically, letting herself fall dramatically onto her bottom to play with the new toys you had bought her.
That was your cue to leave. You closed the door behind you and made your way through the halls towards the cameras.
After working your way up in FreeVee, you were thrilled to finally have a small office to yourself. All the hours of work you put in really paid off.
Although FreeVee enabled you to afford a fairly good life, it was still hell on earth.
Ever since FreeVee's programmes started to become more popular, the city became more dangerous. You could never trust anyone - not even your own family members - which is why you took your daughter to work.
In your office, nobody could just peek in. It was your space, and you got to decide who was allowed in.
While the crew were walking around, making sound checks and testing the cameras, you were about to talk to one of the cameramen when a hand on your shoulder stopped you.
"Long time no see, sweetheart," boomed an all-too-familiar voice behind you as you turned around.
It was Bobby T., looking as put-together as ever with a big smile on his face, exuding nothing but charisma. He was everybody's favourite host of the most messed up shows Killian could ever think of.
You liked Bobby T., though you definitely wouldn't call him a friend. In your opinion, he'd be the first to betray you: all innocent in front of you but the first to talk shit behind your back for a price.
"Yeah," you sighed, not really in the mood to talk to him after seeing how he'd talked about Ben Richards.
You didn't know Ben personally, but you knew that Bobby T. and Killian were trying to wind him up until he gave in and became another one of their puppets.
That's what they do, and they're damn good at it.
"Usually, everyone is excited to see me," said the show host, looking down at you with a small smirk.
"Well, I'm not everyone," you exclaimed, continuing on your way as Bobby T. let up.
Hours passed and you were starting to become restless. You hadn't expected to spend so long arguing with the cameramen about the angles at which they should shoot the scenes.
You knew what the crowd wanted to see. It was either McCone or the runners in a state of panic.
After some more arguing, they finally relented and agreed to your suggestions which made you practically sprint towards your office.
When you opened the door, what you saw made you let out a small yelp before you could calm down.
You weren't expecting to see the tall man sitting on the ground with a duck toy in his hand while your daughter squealed and giggled with delight.
He turned around and his blue-grey eyes, which sometimes appeared green, looked at you. You always found his eyes hypnotic.
You were never able to fully look away.
"Didn't expect to see you here, Evan," you said, walking towards the pair, who were still sitting down.
Your daughter wasn't moving an inch away from him. 'Traitor,' you thought to yourself.
"I told you I'd check in on her," he said softly. People who only knew him as a hunter would be surprised, if not shocked. But you were used to it.
Your eyes softened slightly, your pupils dilating, though you quickly looked away towards your daughter and booped her nose.
"What did I tell you to do when someone enters?"
"Hide..." she said shyly, leaning against McCone's arm, which made him ruffle her hair softly.
"Listen to your mother," he said in a fake strict voice, holding up his index finger towards her, which made her giggle immediately.
"Okay," she managed, still giggling, as McCone gave her the duck toy.
He got up and stood in front of you. "It fits quite well," he said, motioning towards the toy. You smiled in reply.
You knew about her obsession with ducks, which was also why you called her Duckling. That toy hadn't left her side ever since you got it for her.
"No mask this time?" you asked. He usually wore that awful mask from The Running Man, which you hated.
It always reminded you of how he'd kill everyone on the show. You felt that he didn't enjoy it either, judging by the look in his eyes and his stance.
Seeing him next to Killian seemed odd enough, as it was obvious that McCone didn't like him.
And for some reason, he wasn't wearing the mask.
"You told me that you didn't like it," he said in a monotone voice, not letting any other emotion slip through it.
"And my opinion matters?"
"More than anyone else's," he said, as if it were a fact, which made you blush a little. That was his sign to get closer.
Leaning down, he brought his lips very close to your ear and whispered, "You surely already knew that, darling," before giving you a chaste kiss that made you want to melt. However, you two abruptly pulled back when an "Ew" was heard.
McCone chuckled, knowing that the little girl loved teasing them. "Next time, look away," he said, crouching down to tickle her belly and make her erupt in laughter. You could only smile.
Although it was difficult managing your life as a mother after your ex-husband left you for someone else, you couldn't have been happier with Evan. He wasn't just McCone, as everyone knew him; he was your Evan.
You know why I’m here, Pers. 😛 Ahem, ahem, could I pretty please have some good old dry humping/coming in pants, dumbificafion, and breathplay with Evan McCone? 🥺🥺😌😌
I LOVE YOU REAAAAAL BAD, MY LOVELY PRINCESS!!!!!!
ILY2 QUEEN! I hope you enjoy ! 🥺💕
“Who told you to stop,” Evan cooed in your ear, large rough hands tightening around your throat just a fraction more until you had to struggle to draw a breath, and your only response was a pathetic whimper.
You quickly resumed your pace and his grip softened once more. Your hips screamed at you from their wide spread position, your thighs burning with each flex, yet you dared not slow. Straddling Evan’s hips, grinding on his rather prominent bulge in his black tactical pants, was sending you closer and closer to the edge.The seam of his pants rubbing against you just right until you were gasping for breath and seeing stars. It didn’t help that Evan was guiding you to grind against his lap with nothing but his hand around your throat. That and his piercing gaze boring into you through his mask from above.
You were completely bare. Not a stitch of clothing graced your skin all while Evan was clothed from top to bottom. All that was missing was his ridiculous beret and sunglasses. You silently wished that he would’ve at least taken his mask off, you wanted nothing more than to tangle your fingers in his deceptively soft hair and for his lips to be on your skin, but you know how reluctant he was to show his scarred face. No matter how much you told him you loved everything about him, scars included, he was still so reluctant to be bare even in the safety and privacy of his own home.
Maybe if you behaved enough he would later let you sit on his handsome face and ride it until you forgot your own name.
Another whimper left you at the thought, a gush of answering wetness soaking his already damp pants, and his eyes sparkled with mischief as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.
Sweat beaded on your brow from your exertion and your hands clawed uselessly at his broad shoulders all while he stared down at you. Almost as if daring you to disobey him and stop.
You’re not even sure how this…arrangement…happened or why it has become the normal between you two.
It just seemed that one day he wrapped his hand around your throat, growling at whatever you did that pissed him off, and the moan that escaped you had you both stepping back and staring at each other in shock. Now, whenever you acted out or he’s particularly wound up, you find yourself in this very predicament. His mask was surprisingly soft when he nuzzled against your warm cheek, a small hum vibrating his chest, and you shivered at the sound as you dragged yourself back to the present. Fighting your growing urge to rip his mask off and kiss him senseless.
The only thing stopping you is the fond memory of you doing just that and the fierce spanking you received. You swore you could still feel the sting.
“You’re getting close,” he murmured, a statement instead of a question, and the sound that left your throat would’ve had you mortified under any other circumstance.
You opened your mouth to quip back with a scathing answer, but all that came out was a strangled plea. Your brain was mush, your muscles ached, and your poor clit was getting chafed from his stupid pants. The material was completely soaked through and you would’ve been proud of ruining his pants if your brain wasn’t in the process of melting out of your ears.
“Jus’ a little,” you slurred after another slow grind against him and his laugh almost startled you to a stop.
The hand on your throat flexing had you speeding up.
“Cock drunk without me even taking my pants off. You really are a whore, aren’t you?” he teased with another laugh and your face grew hot at his words.
“Fuck you, McCone,” you hissed, digging your nails into his shoulders until he let out his own hiss of breath, and you were rewarded with his hand cutting off your air supply completely.
His hips ground against yours harshly, the new added friction had your eyes rolling back in your head, and he used his grip on your throat to give you a little shake. Like one would do to errant puppy after eating your shoe.
“Now, that wasn’t really nice, was it?” he growled while giving you another quick shake.
“Keep it up and I’ll make you lick up the mess you’ve made,” Evan continued and, despite the growing lack of air, you found yourself grinning deliriously at the thought of getting your mouth on him.
“Do it…pussy,” you gasped out, darkness threatening the edges of your vision, yet your hips didn’t falter.
His own hips rocked up to begin meeting yours in a dirty grind that had your already racing heart thundering against your ribcage. You felt him twitch in his pants as one of your hands flew up to wrap loosely around his wrist. You didn’t try to pull his hand away, you were taught better than that, but holding onto him grounded you a bit as you felt that familiar coil of pressure in your lower abdomen tighten. His grip relaxed a fraction. Just enough for a wisp of oxygen to tease your aching lungs and you noted how his pupils expanded, swallowing the gorgeous blue of his irises, and you heard his breathing hitch. His other hand that was resting against the back of the sofa you were both sitting on whipped across your face. The hit wasn’t too harsh, the quickness of the strike startling you more than the sharp sting now glowing on your cheek, and a manic laugh bubbled out of your sore throat.
That coil of pressure became almost unbearable and you could tell by that twitching thick length shoved against your throbbing cunt that he was close as well.
“You have no self-preservation, do you?” he said breathlessly, something soft shining in his eyes, and his free hand finally rested on your hip to draw you even closer.
You just smiled back at him.
You both fell silent, concentrating on your respective orgasms, and your ragged breathing echoed in your ears until that was all you heard. After a particular rough grind of your hips that tight coil erupted. Your eyes squeezed shut and Evan’s grip tightened just as you fell off that precipice. You barely registered the almost pained noise that left the hunter, his hips jerking against yours, as stars danced behind your eyelids in bright flashes of light.
Pleasure swept through you like a tidal wave. Starting from your curled toes and ending with your tingling scalp. Your body jerking against the strong arms now banded around you, the hand on your throat releasing and massaging your nape, and your first unobstructed intake of air had a smaller orgasm kicking off at the tailend of your first. Once you finally stopped shaking and could think coherently you heard Evan’s muffled voice by your ear as his warm hands swept over your bare back in soothing circles.
“There we go, princess, just breathe for me. I know that empty head of yours is swimming, but you have to relax now,” he murmured softly and you forced yourself to copy his breathing until you finally stopped shaking.
“Please tell me our night isn’t over,” you said quietly once you remembered how your tongue worked, your voice hoarse and scratchy enough to make you flinch, but his answering laugh had something in your chest warm at the sound.
He leaned back to look you in the eyes, a smile clear even through his mask, and he grabbed your chin with a little shake.
“Oh, baby, we aren’t even close to being done.”
does someone would read a fanfic/au where it's about young!thranduil when he's recently made king (his father dies) and he bumps on (human)!reader in a forest and gets curious about her + they can't be seen together bc it's an absurd elves envolve themselves with humans or smth like that... would someone be interested in reading that? i have A LOT of ideas for this au...
i talked about this idea and how i wanted to be a long fic, smth like that, i'm not 100% sure yet bc i never writed a long fic but it would be just for fun, so i probably just do it like any other of my au's... i would fit "actual" thranduil (his normal older version of the movies that we see) on this too at some point too...
IMPORTANT EDIT: until today i hate the person who reblogged this adding a stupid fanfiction that i didn't allowed to use my own plot... i hope your post goes down for such evil act!! such arrogance and disrespect. (your fanfic will never be like the way i thought or writed, but using someone's else plot and post for stealing engagement it's such an asshole thing to do!!)
