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@thedwalinsimp
First time
Pairing: Fili x fem!reader Summary: Fili gives in to his desires, but fears he made a mistake. But you come to him that night, seeking more. Warnings: smut, fluff, inexperienced reader, implied sort of age gap but not really i just wanted to say it, fingering, porn with a little plot, gentle!Fili A/N: this actually made me want to write platonic!fili lowkey.
---
Fili had been dodging you all day.
He wasn't sure if it was shame, guilt, fear, regret. No---definitely not regret. The way your hair had glistened in the sunlight as you approached where he sat beneath a tree, your bright eyes, berry-colored lips stretched into that glowing smile, had hypnotized him in that moment as they already had for so long. It wasn't regret. Perhaps he just felt unworthy.
Or maybe it was the shocked expression that crossed your face the moment he pulled away, the one that he couldn't identify. Was it fear? Surprise? He didn't stay long enough to find out stuttering an apology before disappearing. He couldn't get it out of his head, couldn't look at you without remembering what he'd done---like he'd taken something that wasn't his. The feeling settled like a rock in his belly, unshakable.
He felt hot, almost feverish while he tended to his duties. When he returned to his bedchamber that night, he stripped out of his coat and boots and tunic, leaving them strewn by the threshold, and sank into a cold bath. His head pounded, and he couldn't understand why this sickness lingered. It wasn't like he hadn't kissed someone before, and it certainly wasn't that he was bad at it. He closed his eyes, trying to let the cool water soothe his aching head.
He went to bed early that night, shortly after dinner. He'd look on the day with new eyes when he awoke, and surely then he'd know what to do. How to fix this. How to get his friend back.
---
You padded down the halls with bare feet, eyes bleary from sleep, dressed only in your almost-sheer white night dress. You'd tried to rest, to sleep off the spiraling, but your mind just wouldn't shut up.
You kept reliving it. The little crinkle in his eyes as he looked affectionately at you, little white caps of sunlight in a sea of blue, closing as he leaned close to kiss you. Then, the scratch of his mustache against your face, and the cold surprise of the little metal beads tapping your jaw. But none of it compared to the warmth of his lips. How pleasantly soft they were, nothing like you'd expected.
Although you weren't really sure what you'd expected, if anything at all. Before then, you supposed you hadn't really thought about it. You loved Fili, that was for certain. He'd been your closest friend and confidant on the journey to Erebor, and guided you to acclimate to dwarven culture after it was retaken. You'd always loved being close to him, spending your free days roaming the surrounding wilderness, letting him teach you to hunt. Even spending cold nights snuggled up next to him, wrapped up in his cloak because clearly you needed it more. But you'd never even thought of the possibility of a kiss. He was a prince---of Erebor, no less. What could he possibly want with a hobbit like yourself?
There was before the kiss, and now you lived in this endless sea of after. And all you could think about was how badly you wanted more of it. There were questions you had that needed answering, but surely that could wait. Now, you just needed to find him.
The tiny taps of your feet came to a halt suddenly, and a light touch of fingertips coaxed open the huge wooden door in front of you, just enough to catch a glimpse of the glowing hearth at the opposite end of the room.
Mustering confidence you didn't know you had, you pushed the door open just enough to slip through and close it softly shut behind you with a quiet thud. The dwarven prince, sprawled half-naked on the bed, golden curls messy and undone, stirred at the small sound. He was accustomed to such high alertness, even in deep sleep.
You remained pressed against the door, a nervous flicker in your eyes as he slowly woke fully, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. When his gaze fixed on you, his eyebrows raised a little. You were not who he'd expected to see, even though it wasn't the first time you'd awoken him so late at night. Only this time, it wasn't due to nightmares.
Usually he'd be in front of you in seconds, asking if you were okay, inspecting you for physical ailments. Not tonight. Tonight, he eyes revealed a timidness as if he wasn't sure you were really here.
"Fili," you whispered, your voice a tiny peep as you nervously pushed away from the door, walking to his bed. You perched at the foot, your legs folded up beneath you. Fili pushed back the heavy furs as he shifted to sit closer in front of you. In the dim firelight, your eyes traced over his broad, muscled shoulders.
"I---" he began, cheeks flushing crimson as he became flustered just looking at you. "I was out of line today," he admitted. "I shouldn't have done what I did. It was... disrespectful. Undignified."
You cocked your head to the side. Surely he wasn't feeling guilty about this. You were so sure he'd just regretted it. You'd come here tonight desiring more. You wanted him to kiss you again. But you could hear it in his trembling voice. He didn't regret it... he thought you did.
"No," you whispered breathily, taking his warm hand into your colder one. "I... it was... I liked it, Fi."
You looked sheepishly up from under dark lashes. "It felt... good, and I... I want..."---your cheeks flushed a berry color that matched your shivering lips---"I want more. Want you to..."
Fili's entire body physically relaxed as you said the words. He was breathing easier now, rubbing a calloused thumb gentle over the back of your hand---but his heart still raced. He was glad you couldn't hear it. "Tell me," he whispered. "Anything you want, Kurkanukê."
It almost surprised him how easily he was willing to give you everything. Never in all his years had he felt so naturally servient to someone. Like the only thing that mattered to him was you. It made his whole world feel new, like you'd brought him to life.
You gazed at him, all warm and sleepy and disheveled, golden skin and soft eyes illuminated with dim firelight. Lips and cheeks a little flushed, hair curly and tousled. You'd never seen him like this, so raw. Never even thought to imagine it. But now? You wanted to know how every part of him felt under your fingertips. You wanted to know what his touch felt like---those gentle hands that had so often wrapped you in bear hugs or helped you over rocky terrain. What else could they make you feel?
He watched you as if you were a dream, and if he wasn't careful, he'd wake up.
"I've just... never..." you began, shrinking a little. You felt slightly embarrassed, harboring all these thoughts and desires when your first kiss had only been hours before. Your eyes fell away, staring into the dying embers of the hearth.
Fili felt even guiltier when you said it. He would be your first.
"Look at me," he whispered, squeezing your hands. "I do not want anything you're not certain of."
"I'm certain, Fi," you assured. Mahal knows how badly you wanted him to make you feel things you'd never felt before. "I just haven't ever... done it."
He exhaled, smiling softly at you as his thumbs ran over the back of your fingers. "I'll take care of you," he whispered. "Just like I always have. I promise you that, lass."
You breathed out a little sigh. He'd take care of you.
"And you tell me if it's too much, or too soon, yeah?"
You nodded.
Smiling softly, he guided your arms toward him, beckoning you to crawl into his lap. It wasn't exactly new---there were nights he'd hold you as you cried from nightmares, even nights you'd be snuggled in his lap while he read a book to you. But this was different. Almost like he was afraid you'd break or run off like a scared fawn. But his chest was warm and soft and inviting as you settled within his embrace, letting him pull the furs over your bare shoulder.
And then he kissed you.
It wasn't so hasty this time. You felt it all, the tenderness of his lips, testing your waters. Waiting for permission. The soft scratch of his beard and his mustache, a little tickly against your smooth skin. The cold beads that surprised you every time they rubbed against your jaw. The way his muscular arm wrapped securely around your back and held you in place. The comfortable seat of his thighs under you.
He kissed you with reverence, careful fingers tracing the outline of your jaw and the shell of your ear, and then carding through your messy tresses of hair.
His lips trailed then to your cheek, and down the side of your neck. You cast your gaze down to watch him.
"Is this alright?" he whispered, blue eyes catching yours briefly.
"Yes," you breathed.
His hands followed your curves beneath your thin dress. How badly he wanted to run his thumbs over your nipples and hear the little gasps it caused, to cup the roundness of your breasts and watch your bitten lips part in a soft moan. But he kept them safely resting on your hips. He pledged to be slow with you.
Then to his surprise, your hands toyed with the hem of your dress until you got a hold of it, and pulled it over your head. This time, it was his jaw that fell open a little.
He traced the shape of you, running tentative fingertips down the center of your chest and your belly. Your skin was softer than he could have ever imagined.
You were less willing to wait at this point. He'd teased long enough. You just wanted to feel him touch you.
Taking his wrists into your hands, you placed his warm palms over your breasts and leaned in to kiss him again. "Please, Fili," you whimpered softly as you pressed your lips against his. "Need it."
His fingers were buried between your legs in no time, rubbing over your wet pussy, discovering what noises you made at each little touch. Your fingers dug into his shoulders.
"Will you turn over for me, lass?" he whispered.
You nodded readily, flipping your body so that you now sat in his lap with your back against his chest. You let your head fall back on his shoulder, feeling his hands caress down your body again as he planted soft kisses between your neck and collarbone. You could feel how hard he was beneath you, and admired his restraint in doing nothing about it. You stretched your legs out in front of you, hooking them around his as you settled further between his thighs.
"Just lie back," he murmured. "You tell me if you want to stop."
You nodded, arching your back in frustration. You were feverish for him, and the wetness between your legs wasn't going away.
He didn't make you wait any longer. A thick finger dipped gently between your folds again, picking up your slickness before carefully prodding at your hole. You gasped a little at the feeling.
"Shh, shh," he hushed affectionately. "Just one, love."
His steady hand came to rest on your belly, holding you tight in place while he worked on you.
You winced when his finger pushed gently past your entrance, coaxing your tight hole open with careful movements. His voice soothed you in your right ear where his head was tucked against yours, whispering sweet praise at how good you were doing, how wet you were for him.
Before you knew it, one thick finger was submerged inside you, stilling a little while you adjusted, curling against the soft flesh as soon as you were ready.
"Oh, Fili," you cried, your hands clutching his thighs that caged you in. He smiled as you clawed at him, trying to gain leverage.
"Come here, lass," he whispered, gently grabbing your arms and bringing them up above your head, resting over his shoulders where your hands nestled in his hair. His finger plunged deeper and your hands gave a light tug to his hair---just what he'd wanted you to do---as another groan echoed from your lips.
The heel of his hand rocked against your clit, sending little shockwaves against the bundle of nerves, filling you with a delicious warmth. This wasn't unfamiliar---you'd touched yourself before. But it was so different with Fili, so safe. Like you were meant to be here in his bed, surrounded by his smell and his heat.
"Fi, I'm close," you whimpered, feeling that familiar weakness overtake your limbs as you began to tremble.
He hummed against your temple, tracing his free hand back down the underside of your arm, brushing over the peak of your breast and down your side. His featherlight touch sent you over the edge. Your right leg shook uncontrollably as you bit your lip, stifling a cry as the sensations exploded inside you, wracking your body with fire.
Fili held onto you through it, whispering praise as you rode it out. When his finger became too much for you and you squirmed in his embrace, he gently pulled out, tugging the furs back over to cover you.
You lay trembling in his arms for a moment, fearing what would happen next. You'd never done this before, and suddenly you felt overwhelmingly vulnerable. You hadn't realized the quiet tears that had slipped down your face until Fili was kissing them off your cheeks, holding your face in his hands like you were a precious gem.
"Are you alright, amrâlimê?" he looked deep into your eyes for any sign of unsureness, regret, fear, pain. Anything he could make better. But you nodded, your flushed lips curling into a soft smile as you closed your eyes, tucking your head under his chin.
"Sleep, lass," he whispered, his hands moving around you to stroke your back. "And if you need anything, just wake me again."
Heavy - A Dwalin x reader one shot
Warning - mild NSFW content
I’m baaack.
I had such a lovely response to my first fic (Legolas one shot) that it convinced me to give another character a go. I don’t know what it was about Dwalin this time that got me, but also I don’t think this big warrior gets the amount of love he should from the fandom. Who doesn’t want a brawny guy who could literally throw you over his shoulder? And that’s exactly where the inspo struck.
I was also feeling a bit self conscious about body image so this is a little bit of a comfort one for the big girls.
Pairing: Dwalin x reader
Words: 3.4k
Summary: You (a female presenting plus sized human) are really struggling to keep up with the company on some tough terrain. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, the dwarf you’ve been crushing on notices, and wants to help you. However, as you chat, he’s horrified to discover that you don’t see yourself as desirable due to being overweight. He’s ready to make you feel desirable.
Warnings/content: Dwalin refers to Y/N as ‘Lass’. NSFW towards the end, crude words, nothing ‘happens’ but possibly will be all guns blazing if I pick this up for a part 2. A sweet lil kissy kiss. Dwalin is the most confused gentleman in the world. Ideas around not finding yourself beautiful/wanted, being self conscious of your weight/size.
Read Part 2 here:
PART 2
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You were struggling to keep up. The rocky outcrops the company were picking their way along were a lot harder to navigate than you first thought. It was alright on most of the ‘pathways’ (if you could call them that) but clambering your way over small boulders and natural staircases in the rock was proving to be tiring and more difficult than it looked.
And as for that damned loose gravel, you’d slipped enough already. You were pushing the fates with how many times they’d let your feet fly before you twisted (or worse, broke) something.
One dwarf in particular had noticed your struggle, and while he usually was somewhere up in the front of the pack, you noticed him slowly lagging, letting others go ahead. Peculiar.
He’d looked back and caught your eye a few times, each glance making you blush like a maiden. Each time making you falter even more, slipping or tripping or losing your balance like a newborn calf. How embarrassing. That must be why your cheeks are flushing so. Not because of the concern in the gaze of such a stoic warrior.
Dwalin eventually was the closest dwarf to you, the rest of them charging ahead, the rocky terrain not being as much of an obstacle as it was to you. It’s gotta be something to do with them being mountain dwellers, or a center of gravity difference. Definitely not your inherent clumsy nature. Surely not.
You really were trying your best to be quick, but the ground didn’t want to play the game for you. Your next step on some loose gravel slightly downhill almost sent you skidding down the slope on your ass, if it weren’t for a strong, steady arm appearing on your waist.
“Agh, you’re like a wee lamb tryin’ to find their legs,” Dwalin’s deep brogue starts in your ear, “you’re sure to break an ankle at this rate.”
Your face flushes once more, mortified the dwarf had to step in and save you from your own balance (or rather, lack thereof).
“Oh, hah, yes, well,” you start, realising how out of breath the hiking has gotten you, “I’m not quite used to such challenging ground if I’m honest, and I’ve realised my depth perception is worse than I thought. Every time I step down I can’t figure out where the ground is supposed to meet my foot.”
His arm is still around your waist, supporting your other side against his chest. He’s trying to catch your eye as you speak, but you are doing everything in your power to not make eye contact with this brawny, strong, muscly…. where was that thought supposed to be going?
He’s looking at you with tenderness you haven’t seen in a while. It shocks you a little, expecting him to be exasperated or annoyed instead. ”It’ll come in time, pebble.” He almost chokes on air after saying such a cute nickname, at the realisation that it actually came out of his mouth rather than staying in his inside voice. Before you can say anything, he rights you more steadily on your feet, hesitantly releasing his grip on you.
You mumble a thanks with your head down, and continue walking, trying to keep your focus on your feet and not how your skin still feels warm from where he held you.
Not even a minute later are you faced with needing to make a little leap off of a larger rock to keep on your path. Dwalin and the rest of the company have already done it, making the little jump seem nothing more noteworthy than a step on an elvish staircase. You, on the other hand, are still standing on what feels like a mountainous boulder with uneven stones below, attempting to calculate at what angle to land to break the least bones. Or would a tuck-and-roll approach be better here? Maybe just throw it all to hell and break your neck in the fall, that would surely end your embarrassment.
Dwalin is suddenly standing directly before you, putting the distance at least in a smidgen of perspective; it's literally knee-high to a dwarf. You think. You’re not really focused on his knees right now, but rather, the question in his facial features as he repeats your name, “Y/N, did ya hear me?”
“Sorry, I wasn’t listening properly,” you admit with a frown, “what were you saying?”
”I said I’m happy to carry you the rest of the way, until we get to easier land. It’s not much further but I’d rather get you there in one piece instead of bandaging ya up later.” He glanced ahead to where the other dwarves were still charging on, getting further away by the second.
You huffed, out of annoyance, fatigue, frustration, who knows. But, what you do know is that Dwalin’s correct, if you don’t get a wriggle on it’ll take you an age, or you’ll hurt yourself trying. However, a key part of his offer makes your ears burn.
“I really appreciate the offer Dwalin, but there’s no way I can ask you to carry me all that way”
”What? Why not? I’ve just offered.” He looks almost… offended.
”Well…” You don’t have the energy to step around this insecurity of yours, “I’m much too large.”
He stares at you a second, then laughs. A proper belly chuckle, like you’ve just told him the funniest joke all day.
He seemingly ignores your frown, holding his hands out like he’s ready to receive a hug from you. “Hah, ah that’s a good one amrâl, now come here.” He looks at you expectantly, waiting for, well, for you to throw yourself into his arms you guess.
”Huh? What, wait, no, truely,” you begin to protest, “I’m too heavy, there’s no way, I’ll just make it down myself and I’ll catch up to you all on more level ground.”
He huffs, arms dropping to sit his hands on his hips. “What in Durin’s name are you talkin’ about? Do you not know the strength of dwarves? If I cannot carry a bonnie lass as yourself, I’d best hide my face for the next week in shame.” he declares, the exasperation finally filling his tone. “Come now, Y/N, we must keep moving.” He puts his arms back out, eyebrows up, fingers waggling to urge you towards him, waiting for your next move.
His words have floored you. You try to think of a reason, any reason, to keep protesting. You’d never been in a man's arms like that before, always been a bit too chunky for it, always been met with hesitation about your weight. So, you’d learned to prefer your feet staying firmly on the ground, lest someone make a fool of you both and drop you for being too heavy.
“Uhm, a-alright,” you stare pointedly at him, still waiting for him to crack a smile and tell you he’s just joking, that there’s no way in hell he’s actually going to carry you the rest of the way. “If you’re sure I won’t be too much a burden for you?” But he doesn’t break, his seriousness about carrying you is actually starting to blow your mind.
“For the last time, come to me now, or I’ll grab you off that rock like a sack of wheat and throw you over my shoulder.” He’s really exasperated with your hesitation now.
“Oh! Okay, I’m getting there.” You’re the one to finally break, although the thought of him handling you so… sternly has your cheeks heating in a way that surprises you. Shuffling your toes closer to the edge, you bend a little, putting your arms out to rest your hands on his shoulders as his rest on your waist. Before you can move a muscle to attempt the step down, the dwarf has lifted you gently, then placed you to stand beside him, as though you were no heavier than a 3 year old. This causes a little squeak of surprise to escape you, not expecting him to literally do all the work.
His hands are still on your waist, you’re trying to think of another excuse for why he doesn’t need to carry you any further, but he’s trying to think of all the ways he can try get you to make that noise again. For once, he doesn’t have anything witty to say, just enjoying the way his hands seem to mould perfectly to your sides, how your chest is still moving a bit more with the effort of your lungs working to catch up. How your cheeks have turned a gorgeous rosy shade, one that matches your lips. Why hasn’t he looked this closely at your lips before? They look perfect, not that he has any idea what ‘perfect’ lips should technically look like, but they’re yours, which is what makes them so perfect.
You clear your throat, not with anything to say, you’re still drawing blanks on the excuses front, but because you’ve noticed Dwalin hasn’t moved an inch for a few breaths, and you don’t know what to do with silence.
“Ah,” He coughs, fakely, “right, yes, we’d better get a move on.” And without any warning, he’s whipped his arms from your waist, one now resting on your back, the other collecting the backs of your thighs, scooping you from the ground before you can properly register his words.
This, obviously, draws another squeak from you, this one a little more in the back of your throat, a little more inappropriate. Your arms fly up around his neck and shoulders, scrabbling a little for grip, until you realise that he has such a secure hold on you that you could fully rag doll and he’d have you tucked up like you were naught but a kitty cat. If you could purr like one, you’d currently sound like a furnace.
Dwalin’s pride swelled at the way he was able to steal another noise from you, though a thrilling spike of greed made him want to stop travelling then and there, to explore all the ways he could get you to make noises just for him. He shoved that thought away before it could make anything else swell, and started walking, trailing along to catch up to the company.
You notice that he doesn’t seem to be struggling in the slightest, moving with almost the same ease as when he didn’t have you in his arms.
“Dwalin?” He hums his acknowledgment to your questioning tone, “I actually didn’t realise you dwarves were this strong. Is it all of you?” You ask, hesitation flying out the window of your brain, now that your feet are gently bouncing in the breeze.
“Aye lass, but I wouldn’t call this much of a feat, I’m just carrying you. Why wouldn’t you believe that I’d carry you? Did you believe me to be joking?” His response isn’t quite what you were wanting.
“No, no it's not that I didn’t believe that you were being genuine,” That’s not true, but you felt like you were walking a peculiar line, too close to actually offending him now, “it’s just that no one has actually picked me up like this before, let alone carried me any proper distance.”
”Why not? Any good dwarf would fall over themselves at the chance to carry a gem as yourself in their arms.” He thinks for a moment, “Oh, is it against some sort of custom in your culture around carrying women? Gods, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
You find yourself chuckling a little at his sudden turn of thinking, “No, no, not anything like that, do not worry yourself. It’s…” you pause, meeting his confused stare for a second before blushing once more and casting your eyes downwards, “It’s because no one has been strong enough to carry me, or at least, the ones who might be, have no interest in hefting my weight into their arms.” You finish, candidly. It’s almost therapeutic to admit, realising that he’s not of that mindset.
He’s more confused than he’s been all day, possibly, all his life. “What are you talking about? Not strong enough? Why would they not be interested? You're not making much sense, lass.”
You huff once more, “They’re not interested because of my size!” you state, with a bit more irritation in your voice than you wanted to slip through, “because I’m too heavy to be beautiful or desirable.” You felt a bite of emotion creeping up your spine to stick at your tear ducts, but you won’t let it take over. You’ve done enough crying about your image in your life, this poor dwarf doesn’t need that show.
He actually stops moving. “You’re not serious?” He asks, the most incredulous tone you think you’ve heard from him.
“Dead serious” Comes your response, without meeting his eyes.
“Y/N, amrâl, look at me,” he urges, and something about the way he says your name makes you feel comfortable in lifting your gaze, “I don’t know, nor do I care about beauty standards where you’re from, all I know is by dwarf standards, we should really be thanking you for gracing us with your presence.”
You scoff, not believing a word of it.
“No, truely,” he continues, “aside from the slight lack of hair, you are built like you’ve come straight from a young darrow’s daydream,” your face is really starting to heat now, “I know dwarves who’d give a year of their life to be able to hold a beauty as yourself like I am now. Do your people not appreciate a sturdy woman? Do they not dream of a plump wife to come home to, someone strong enough to take care of themselves and still have energy reserves to give them healthy babes?” He knows he’s saying a little too much now, but he’s so surprised at the realisation that you don’t think you’re attractive, that he can’t stop himself.
You don’t say a word. In fact, you’re not sure if you could, instead, staring at him with your mouth open, cheeks ablaze, stunned at the idea of a whole race of people believing your body type is, well, a dream?
He really can’t stop himself. He’s searching your face to try find some sort of understanding, but only finding surprise and wonder. But its the fiery blush over your skin that urges him to say more than he should.
“Do they…” His voice drops lower, a gravel entering his tone, “do they not dream of pillowy thighs,” he squeezes yours a little, “ones that are so soft and welcoming after a long day’s work. A body that is soft, that warms the bed and eases any worries with a gentle touch, cozier than any fireplace known.” The way he’s staring into your eyes makes him look hypnotised, or is it you that is under a spell?
“Seemingly not,” your voice is barely more than a whisper, “although, that’s all rather tame, anyone enjoys something soft to cuddle up against, its the…” you hesitate, unsure if it would all be too much to continue speaking, but something (surely a lack of brain cells) urges you on, “its the intimacy that I don’t believe anyone would willingly sign up for.”
His eyes darken, almost animalistic. His breathing takes on a slight rasp as he holds you ever closer to his chest. “…If I should ever have the honour of suffocating between thighs like yours, I’d die with a smile on my face.” His words cause you to gasp like you’d seen a ghost.
“Suffocate? What reason would you need your face so close to my thighs for that to ever occur?” You’re so dumbfounded you can’t find it in you to be bashful at what you can only assume is a crude declaration about your thighs.
He shakes his head in disbelief, “They don’t deserve a glorious creature as yourself if they do not know how to take proper care of you.” A groan almost breaks through his words.
”What are you talking about? My point is that surely no man would find satisfaction with my body in his marriage bed.” You state, all ladylike politeness thrown to the wind.
“This dwarf would.”
You swear that statement almost stopped your heart. You felt something in your perception of reality crack, like a mirror being dropped and developing a fissure in the surface. ”What?”
”I said, I would.” He declares it like a fact. “I don’t care what men think, this dwarf would kill to have you in his marriage bed, as you call it.”
You can’t tell if you’re still breathing.
“I can see you don’t believe me,” his voice is still so deep you can feel it rumble through his chest to you, “but if you ever gave me the honour of inviting me to your bed, I would worship every inch of your skin, keep you there until you believed your own beauty.”
His words hit home, somewhere deep in your soul that wants to believe you are desirable, but has never been able to. It sparks something, something hot, that sends a molten flood of desire through your body, down your spine, all the way to your toes, but settling in between your legs. Suddenly the idea of him between those thighs you are so self conscious of is all you can think about. Hands grabbing, lips kissing, you can’t even begin to fantasise properly. It all becomes too much, and you do something that is surely inappropriate, and sure to get you rejected.
You grab his face between slightly trembling hands, and crash your lips to his. Now it's his turn to make a noise of surprise, and he does, a low groan that rips through his chest and flips something in your lower belly. You almost moan in response.
You don’t really know what you’re doing, the inexperience and all that, but he very quickly guides your lips to a gentle rhythm. The kiss lasts only a few seconds, but feels like an eternity in your head. You pull back a bit to take in his whole face, brain snapping back into the real world again, worried you’ll see something like anger, or worse, disgust. ”I’m sorry.” You blurt before he can chastise you.
“For what?” Wow, the two of you really needed to get on the same page here.
“For that,” you say, “I kissed you.”
”Why apologise for bestowing such a gift, amrâlimê?” Breathless, he looks at you in bewilderment.
“Because…” You can’t even think of a reason. You think you’ve gone mad. Are the words of this dwarf true? Can you believe that a warrior such as himself actually desires you in that way?
”You can kiss me whenever your heart desires, pebble.” He announces, a cocky smirk taking over his lips.
You believe him. You believe he’s telling the truth. You don’t know what comes over you, some surge of confidence that wasn’t there before, but your own words cause you to flush red once again; “Only if you promise to show me how you might suffocate from my thighs.”
His knees go weak for a second, not at all due to your weight, but from the idea that you’d let him worship your body in such a way. You don’t even fully understand that you’ve just asked him to promise to drown himself in your cunt. And that turns his shaft to stone faster than ever before, so much so, it aches beneath his trousers.
“Aye,” he rasps, “aye, Y/N, I can do that for you.”
The smile that graces your face makes him feel like he’s never actually seen joy expressed before.
“Oi! You two! If you’re about done with the lovey-dovey stuff, would you mind getting a wriggle on? We’re losing daylight watching you get all loved up over there.” A call from Fili bursts the bubble that had grown around the two of you. You both look over to see most of the company has come back up the path, wanting to see what on earth was taking you so long.
“Mind your own damned business boy,” Dwalin calls back, starting to move again, still holding you securely in his arms, “we’re not that far behind.” He almost growls, obvious that he’s more annoyed with the interruption than his words tell.
Fili rolls his eyes with a smile, but turns away to continue down the path along with the rest of the company, chattering and chuckles floating up from the group.
“Once we get some time alone, I can show you exactly how a dwarf worships a lady as yourself” Dwalin rasps to your ear.
You shiver, a pleasant feeling for once, “I’d like that, Dwalin.”
He swears under his breath and continues walking on.
To be continued.
I'm so excited to see a dwalin fic 👀🫢 will read it once I get home from the gym!
What they call you
Includes: Thorin, Fili, Kili A/N: getting myself out of a slump with this. ugh i love khuzdul words
Thorin
‘Ibinê, meaning my gem, or gaihith, meaning little dove. Everything about you is precious to him. He sees you as something pure and sweet like a dove, and values you like one would a beautiful gemstone. In common tongue, he'll often refer to you as sweetheart. This is what he uses most often, and if he's ever to publicly call you something other than your name, it's that. He prefers to use Khuzdul terms in privacy because they're more intimate and personal to him.
Fili
Halwûna, meaning sweet one. Above all things, he loves you for how kind and good and sweet you are. I also like to think that in a narrative where there's maybe a sort of forbidden romance going on (A/N: perhaps this just gave me an idea), he'd affectionately call you rûrik, meaning secret. In common tongue, he will most often call you honey or sometimes princess. Sometimes princess is used teasingly, but in truth, he refers to the title you'd take on if he marries you.
Kili
Amrâlimê, meaning my love/love of mine (of course), or khîê, meaning my one. You are the love of his life and he refers to you as such. He looks at you as if you are the brightest star in the sky, and that it is his privilege to even look upon you. In common tongue, he sometimes refers to you as my love or just love. Very similar, although he does prefer to use Khuzdul.
Oh… Oh no, he’s hot.
Fili Durin x reader
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
The barrels struck the riverbank with a series of hollow thuds, rolling dwarves across the muddy grass. Bilbo crawled out of his barrel coughing, Bofur was complaining loudly about smelling like fish, and Kíli declared dramatically:
“I am never bathing again!”
You pulled yourself out of your barrel, soaked from head to toe. Your hair stuck to your cheeks, your shirt clung to every line of your body, and your boots felt like small, personal lakes.
You sat down and tugged one off.
Waterfalls. Actual waterfalls poured out.
“Ugh…” you groaned. “Lovely. I’m storing enough water to fill a pond.”
And then—
A splash behind you. A grunt of effort. A shape pulling itself out of the river.
You glanced up.
And froze.
Fíli Durin climbed out of the water like some sort of dwarven warrior carved by Mahal himself.
His golden hair, usually neat and braided, was dripping down his shoulders in wild waves. Water ran down his cheeks, soaked his shirt, defined the line of his arms, his chest, his waist—
Your thoughts short‑circuited.
He gave his head a quick shake, sending droplets flying. His shirt clung tightly to him, outlining every toned muscle you had absolutely never noticed before.
You swallowed.
“Oh no,” you whispered to yourself. “Oh no no no—”
Fíli caught sight of you.
And smiled.
A warm, bright, devastating Fíli smile.
“There you are!” he said cheerfully, jogging toward you. His soaked clothes made soft squishing noises, which should have been funny but somehow wasn’t funny at all because his wet hair was sticking to his jaw and his braids were plastered to his shoulders and you were going to PASS OUT.
He stopped in front of you, hands on his hips, dripping everywhere. “You all right? You look a little— flushed.”
“F‑flushed? No! No, not flushed. Perfectly fine. Just— boot. Wet boot. Very tragic.”
You waved your boot like a trophy of shame.
Water sloshed out.
Fíli laughed, the sound warm and rich. “Here— let me help.”
He crouched beside you, close enough you could smell river water, leather, and something warm you refused to identify.
He lifted your other boot gently, tipping it upside down.
You tried very hard not to stare at the way his wet shirt stretched across his back when he leaned forward.
You failed.
Spectacularly.
Fíli looked up at you through damp lashes, his smile soft. “There. Better?”
Your mouth opened. Nothing came out.
“(Y/N)?” he asked, brows knitting together in concern.
You forced a sound out. “Yes. Good. Fine. Perfect. You’re wet.”
You wanted to die.
He blinked. Then his lips twitched, just a little. “So are you.”
“I— yes— I know— I’m— aware.”
You stared at the ground, praying it would swallow you.
Fíli leaned closer, voice warm and amused. “You look very cute when you blush, you know.”
Your soul left your body.
Kíli jogged past, dripping equally as much. “Look at them! They’re both broken!”
Fíli ignored him completely.
He offered you his hand.
“Come on,” he said gently. “Let me help you up.”
Your heart slammed against your ribs.
You took his hand.
And instantly regretted it— because his hand was big and warm and calloused and you had zero ability to be normal.
Fíli pulled you to your feet, keeping your hand in his a moment longer than necessary. His eyes sparkled with something soft. Something warm.
Something that made your knees weak.
“You sure you’re all right?” he asked softly.
You nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes. Completely. Totally. Fine.”
You absolutely were not fine.
You were drowning worse than you had in the river.
Fíli smiled — slow, knowing, devastating.
“Good,” he murmured. “Stay close, then.”
And with that, he turned to gather his weapons.
Leaving you standing there, face burning, boot dripping, heart racing like you’d just run the length of Erebor.
ao3 asking if i want to see mature content. do i want to see birds in the sky. do i want to feel the wind in my hair and the grass under my feet
Silent Saviour (The Company of Thorin Oakenshield x GN Reader)
No warnings
Captured and outnumbered, the Company faces a grim fate at the hands of a pack of goblins.
The Hobbit Preferences: How They Kiss You
(A/N: i accidentally got thrust back into a Tolkien phase so have fun while i write my thoughts out here to keep them from plaguing me, if there's other characters you want me to add then let me know, I might also do a LOTR one too once i've rewatched them)
(Includes Dwalin, Fili, Kili and Thorin x Gender neutral reader)
An unexpected journey to middle earth.
Part one
The company x female!reader
Summary: in which the fourth wall literally breaks, and you find yourself trading your sweatpants for elven suede and a quest for a mountain.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
The lights were dimmed, a bowl of popcorn was balanced precariously on your lap, and the familiar, sweeping violins of Howard Shore’s score filled your room. On the screen, the lush greens of the Shire were radiating a warmth that felt almost tangible.
You leaned forward, squinting. Right in the middle of a beautiful shot of Bag End, a stubborn, grey speck of dust sat mocked you. It was ruining the immersion.
“Seriously” you muttered.
Without thinking, you reached out, extending your index finger to flick the particle away.
As soon as your skin brushed the glass, the surface didn’t feel cold or hard. It felt like liquid light.
A sudden, violent tug centered in your chest pulled you forward. The room behind you dissolved into a blur of spinning shadows, and the sound of your air conditioner was replaced by the deafening rush of wind and the scent of damp earth and pine needles.
You hit the ground with a soft thud, the impact cushioned by a thick carpet of moss. Your head throbbed with a rhythmic pulse, and you squeezed your eyes shut against the sudden, blinding brightness of the sun.
"Ow," you muttered, reaching up to rub your temple.
Your hand froze. Instead of the familiar curve of your ear, your fingers brushed against something long, smooth, and sharply pointed. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you felt higher. Your hair, which had been in a messy bun moments ago, now fell down your back in a heavy, silken river of tresses that reached your waist.
You scrambled to your feet, your movements feeling strangely graceful—almost liquid. Gone were your sweatpants and oversized tee. In their place, you wore a tunic of deep moss-green suede, cinched with a leather belt embossed with leaf patterns, and sturdy, knee-high boots that felt lighter than air.
"A bit late for a stroll in the woods, isn't it? Or perhaps just a bit early for the party."
The voice was like rolling thunder tempered by age. You spun around, your new, heightened senses picking up the rustle of fabric before you even saw him.
Standing a few yards away, leaning on a gnarled wooden staff, was Gandalf the Grey. He was exactly as you remembered from the screen—the pointed hat, the silver scarf, and eyes that twinkled with a terrifying amount of intelligence.
"I... I..." You stumbled over your words, your tongue feeling heavy. You looked at your hands—pale, elegant, and steady, despite the panic rising in your throat.
Gandalf tilted his head, his bushy eyebrows knitting together. "You have the look of the Woodland Realm about you, yet there is a flicker in your eyes I haven't seen in an Elf for many an age. Tell me, dear girl, where did you spring from? You aren't on my map."
You looked back at the space where you had fallen, but there was no screen, no dust, no bedroom. Just the rolling hills of the Shire behind him. You couldn't tell him about the "movie" or the "TV." How could you explain a world of glass and electricity to a wizard?
"I'm not from around here," you managed to say, your voice sounding clearer and more melodic than it ever had before. "I... I come from another place. Another... world."
Gandalf took a long pull from his pipe, blowing a smoke ring that drifted lazily toward you. He watched you for a long moment, his gaze piercing, as if he could see the very atoms of your soul that didn't quite belong to Middle-earth.
"Another world?" he echoed softly. "The music of the Ainur is vast, and many themes are played that we do not yet understand." He stepped closer, the hem of his grey robes brushing the grass. "You find yourself in a strange time to be a wanderer, especially one who falls from the sky with the ears of a Wood-elf and the confusion of a newborn lamb."
He offered a small, knowing smile.
"Well then. Since you are here, and since I am currently in need of someone with a sharp eye and—I suspect—a very interesting story, perhaps you would care to walk with me? There is a hobbit nearby who is about to have a very stressful evening, and I think a bit of Elven company might do us all some good."
You looked at the path leading toward Bag End, then back at your pointed ears. You didn't have a remote to turn this off, and honestly? You didn't want one.
"I suppose I don't have much of a choice," you said, finding your courage.
"My dear," Gandalf chuckled, turning to lead the way, "none of us truly do when the world decides to move beneath our feet."
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
Here we are folks the first chapter of my fanfic inspired by the three hobbit movies.
I really hope you guys like it!
Men 💖
favorite
Pairing: Kili x reader Summary: The elves told you not to touch the flowers... of course you never listen. Warnings: sex pollen fic so could be read as dub-con, but isn't since you and Kili want each other, protective Kili, begging, praise, lots of dirty talk, hair pulling, size kink (kind of? I think?), biting, choking, oral- f receiving, rough sex, i'm sure i'm missing some other important tag
so, for funsies, I had this song on repeat while I was writing. enjoy! also: ibinê- my gem
One moment you're admiring the deep amber veins running through the sky blue petals of a pretty little flower, and the next you're sneezing your head off, coated head to toe in a thick sheen of pollen. You didn't even know flowers could produce that much! Kili is no help, of course. Too busy doubled over in laughter at your misfortune.
"It isn't funny!" You move to kick him, but Fili grabs you by the collar and holds you in place. "Not fair!"
Fili smirks down at you, blue eyes sparkling with a quieter mirth than his brother. "You don't expect to have dinner like that, do you?"
Your mouth falls open. "The rest of you are just as dirty! Why is my dinner the only one being held hostage?"
"Because you," Fili taps your nose, "are the only one who refused to listen when Lord Elrond said not to touch any of the flowers."
"It's just a flower," you mutter, feeling properly put in your place. Fili tends to have that effect on you. From the moment you met him, you fully embraced his eldest brother aura and never looked back.
Kili on the other hand...
That's slightly more complicated.
“you guys are gonna LOVE these characters…can’t wait to fuckin kill them” - J.R.R. Tolkien
Can I request a Thorin piece where she’s a part of the company and one night they’re sitting on watch together and she kills an orc scout or something and he’s just like omg I love her? Please and thank you
Here it is, I hope you like it! Sorry for the delay, I’ve been in a little bit of a slump lately :( But I’m back now!
Notes: Italics are thoughts and emphasis
This ended up being longer than I thought it would lol
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Pledging your loyalty to Thorin Oakenshield’s Company came easy to you. Fending off groups of orcs and dealing with the dwarf himself’s moodiness, however, proved to be not as easy.
While you admired Thorin’s mission and determination, you found yourself skirting around him in order to avoid his scathing remarks. You were convinced the king-to-be loathed your entire being, with his mutterings of how you needed to be protected and his tendency to force you into the middle of the group when danger arrived.
It was simple, to you, really. He didn’t think you worthy of being a member of his company. He thought you weak and unskilled, so weak, in fact, that he believed the other dwarfs had to be your protectors.
You were sick of it. After all, Gandalf wouldn’t have encouraged Thorin to allow you to join him in his journey if you weren’t an asset. Gandalf believed in you, and you believed in yourself.
Now if only Thorin could.
You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of raucous laughter. Blinking your eyes rapidly, you zoned in on the joyful dwarfs sitting around the fire. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of their happiness, as it was quite contagious. Your smile dimmed quickly, though, when your gaze landed on striking blue. Tearing your eyes from his, you continued eating your dinner.
Thorin frowned as he watched you avoid his line of sight. Truthfully, he didn’t know how he felt about you. You were constantly defying his orders and putting yourself in the line of fire, which irritated him to no end. He admired your bravery, but yet, for reasons unknown to him, he found himself wishing to keep you out of harm’s way.
“Remind me, lads, who’s on watch tonight?” Balin questioned.
“I believe it’s our dear Y/N, here,” Glóin replied.
You chimed in: “Aye, it’s my turn tonight.”
You heard a scoff sound from the group. You weren’t shocked to find the sound came from the King under the Mountain.
“Absolutely not.”
A bolt of annoyance shot down your spine. Steeling yourself, you made eye contact with the grumpy dwarf. “I joined this company to be helpful. I will serve my turn on watch just as everyone else has. It is only fair.”
Thorin grunted. “It’s completely unnecessary.”
You were, frankly, fed up with his behavior. You found him to be condescending and rude. Clenching your jaw, you growled: “Tell me, Thorin Oakenshield, do you think me incapable? Do you think me too weak or, perhaps, too stupid to fulfill my duty to this company? To your company?”
You knew your questions were bold, and maybe even disrespectful to the dwarf king, but you couldn’t help it. For months, you dealt with his strange, and sometimes even offensive, conduct. He never allowed you to prove yourself or to show off your combat skills. It felt as if you served no purpose in his company, only to be protected like some child.
Thorin Oakenshield, for once in his life, found himself speechless. He grasped for an answer, and finally settled on: “I never said that.”
You gave a bitter laugh. “You might as well have.”
You didn’t give him a chance to reply. Instead, you stalked off into the forest, as you needed to cool off.
Who does he think he is? Well, minus the whole ‘king’ thing. I’ve trained for years in combat, and I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself and others, including Mr. Grumpy himself!
You sighed, and plopped down heavily on a log. You just wanted to sleep and forget the past 30 minutes of your life, as they only proved what you already knew: Thorin didn’t believe in you and your abilities.
You don’t know why that hurt so bad.
You groaned. Sleep wouldn’t be coming any time soon, as you still had the night watch.
You groaned again when another realization came to mind: I’m going to have to see Thorin again. Ugh, it’s totally too soon to have to face him.
It was unspoken knowledge that Thorin, no matter who’s turn it was, sat in on night watch. Any night that he wasn’t completely exhausted, any member of the company could find him sitting awake, piercing eyes looking for any sign of danger.
The other dwarfs, minus Balin of course (for the most part), joked that he had to ‘make sure it was getting done right.”
But you saw it for what it really was.
Thorin cared.
He cared so much, in fact, that he put his own health on the line to ensure everyone’s safety.
You found his concern endearing, though that didn’t make it any easier to face him at the moment. You huffed and pulled yourself off of the log.
Well, let’s get this over with.
—————————————————————
Thorin’s face was settled into what seemed to be a permanent scowl as he scanned the darkness before him. He had angered you, that much was clear. What wasn’t clear, however, was how you came to such outrageous conclusions. He didn’t think you weak or unintelligent at all. In fact, your quick thinking had gotten all of them out of trouble more than once.
But he had made you feel that way. He had made you feel unworthy. And he hated himself for it. He never wanted to hurt you. All he ever wanted was to keep you safe.
Thorin was so caught up in his self-hatred that he failed to notice your arrival.
Flopping down next to him, you intended to ignore his presence for the entirety of the night.
Thorin, however, had other plans.
“You truly believe I see you in such a way? That I think you weak and stupid?”
“I have no reason to believe otherwise.”
“How can you say that? I have done nothing to make you come to such conclusions!” He growled angrily.
You took a steadying breath. “Have you not? You refuse to let me fight. Instead, you and the others act as if I’m a child in need of protecting.”
Thorin lowered his gaze to the ground. “We-I- never intended to make you feel that way.”
You softened a little at this. It appeared as if his hardened exterior form earlier was falling to pieces. “Thorin, it’s oka-“
“No, no it’s not. I apologize, Y/N.”
You smiled. “I appreciate that, Thorin.”
“I mean it, lass. I-“
“Thorin, be quiet.” You whispered hurriedly.
“What? I’m trying to apologize to you and you’re telling me to be quiet?”
You gave an annoyed sigh. “Yes, Thorin, I’m telling you to be quiet.”
“I don’t underst-.” He was cut off by a sharp gust of air flowing past his ear.
Locking eyes with you, he realized that your axe was no longer in your hand. Looking behind him, he saw an orc corpse laying on the ground.
Thorin, twice now in a span of a few hours, was speechless. He hadn’t even realized that there was an orc behind him, and yet you had. Not only that, but you had managed to kill said orc scout quickly and efficiently.
“That was amazing. You’re amazing.”
Blushing, you said: “It wasn’t that big of a deal. He was coming up behind you. Anybody would have done the same.”
He shook his head. “It is a big deal. You’re right, I was being unfair to you by keeping you from the fight. Clearly, as you said, you can handle yourself and others, since you just saved my life.”
You gave a shy chuckle. “You’re making it a bigger deal than it is. I wouldn’t say I saved your life.”
Reaching over to grasp your hand, he said: “I would. I had no clue that orc scout was there. But you did. I-“
He cut himself off and seemed almost shy, avoiding your eyes. You could even swear there was a slight pink tint to his face.
“Thorin, what were you going to say?”
He hummed. “I just want to keep you safe, Y/N. I know it came off as me doubting your abilities, but I truly just never want to see you hurt.”
Realizing where this was going, you moved closer to the soon-to-be king, grasping his hand tighter in yours. “And why is that?”
He seemed to steel himself, spine straightening and confidence building. “I am quite fond of you, Y/N. I thought I made that clear. “
You giggled. “Not so much in the beginning, your highness. But, I can forgive that under one condition.”
He raised one thick eyebrow at you. “Oh? And pray tell, dearest, what is that?”
A blinding smile overtook your face as you came nose to nose to the dwarf. “Kiss me.”
He returned your smile. “I think I can do that.”
Your lips met his, and in between, only whispered ‘I love you’s’ existed.
-Admin Cheyenne :)
No one makes dwalin fanfics anymore and I'm dying over here, I'm thirsty boiii! It's mostly Thorin, fili and Kili which I understand and also love but I need something with my boy dwalin 😭 I swear I'll even pay y'all to write something I'm desperate haha pls send fic recommendations.
Hm... first time writing smut, i hope it would be okay enough to read 😭 English is not my mother tongue so please bear with me😔
Anyway I have praising kink, not only the normal praising but also the cooing, sweet talking, baby talking praise 🥹 So... here we are, Thorin x f!Reader smut where he (fully clothed) praises his sweetheart while you (naked) sit on his lap on the throne. It might be OOC but it's a fanfic, who cares??? 😭
MINOR DO NOT INTERACT. I'LL BLOCK YOU IF I KNOW YOU'RE UNDERAGE!!!!!
So... here we are.
(Before you read, hear the sound when Thorin "aah" in the blooper where his key got stuck in the door)
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Our neighbors would hate us😭🙏🏻