(gimli was definitely tip toeing)

i always really loved the scene in the fellowship where legolas realises mid-council that gollum having escaped is Really Bad, Actually, it's one of my favourite moments in the book. stoic movie legolas is fun but nothing beats an elven prince jumping up to confess his people's massive fuck-up to the smartest and best of middle earth

a dad and his weird son doodle

i just wanted to figure out some stuff with making them actually look related and settled on legolas having his dad’s nose, skin tone and eye colour (and judgemental look)

Thinking about that headcanon that Thranduil is blind in one or both eyes bcs of the dragon fire (hobbit movies) so that’s why Legolas just says what he sees out loud all the time bcs he’s used to doing that for his dad

just two best friends sharing in each other’s journeys…

legolas being some cringe fail elf dating the hottest bachelor dwarf in all of middle earth is something that is so deeply important to me

(Fem reader) legolas being clingy after spending the day away from reader. i want to see my doe eyes elf being pouty and acting like a touch starved bby please 🥺

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 0.5k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: a day spent away from you has left the prince in need of your touch now more than ever ( fluff, established relationship )

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ notes: omg omg i loved writing clingy legolas sm ty for the req !

˗ˏˋ 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 ´ˎ˗

One could have mistaken the woodland prince’s footfalls for a dwarf as they grew heavy upon entering his shared chambers with his beloved. 

Rarely did the prince commit the careless act of allowing dirt to track the halls of the kingdom, yet his boots caked with remnants of the forest floor follow him as the door closes behind him. A sigh holding a handful of burdens departs from his lips at the sight of an empty room. His eyes glaze over the neatly made bed, staring at the smoothed covers as though they are taunting him. Moonlight leaks through an exposed window, and he frowns among the darkness that has overtaken the room. Whoever prompted the notion of elves slipping through the passage of time was sorely mistaken it seems, as it now feels to him that it has been an eternity since he last bid you farewell (which was this morning, soft kisses pressing onto your cheeks as you slept soundly). The possibility that the weight of your absence could evoke such a hold on him was something he failed to consider when he began courting you—and now the once tireless and perhaps even invincible prince finds himself in a poor state without the loving nature your touch provides as he transforms from a deadly warrior into a wounded bunny. 

“Meleth nîn?” [ 'my love' ] His voice is quieter than his usual velvety tone, and his arms feel so empty without you tightly wound within their hold.

“In here!” You call from the bathing chambers, swiftly tying a robe over your waist before his steps follow your voice as though he's been coaxed by a spell. He smiles, relief in his eyes, shoulders relaxing as he greets the scent of woodland herbs that permeates within the bathing room. Strong arms pull you into an embrace and you are taken aback by his towering frame for a moment, shuffling slightly as he leans against you. His hand cradles the back of your head and he sighs, inhaling the scent of you while you bite back a laugh. “Hello,” you greet him softly and your head lifts to meet his gaze. His lips press onto your temple in a wordless reply and you sense that he is in extra need of your attention. "Long day?" You smile and his kiss trails to your lips. 

"Lay with me."  He says, and suddenly you are nestled next to him under warm covers with his face cocooned into your neck. His boots lay discarded at the foot of the bed, bracers tossed next to the fireplace that crackles lightly. Your hand works gently to undo his braids, delicate fingers running through his light tendrils. You are certain that he will clear both of your schedules tomorrow, and you are even more certain that you will not be able to leave his side for at least another day. And you have no objections, smiling as his hand finds yours and your fingers interlock with his. 

Where are you going,prince Legolas?

Baby Leggie

𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ pairing: legolas x fem!reader

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ warnings: alcohol consumption, smut (MDNI pls), very light breathplay/choking

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ word count: 2.9k

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ synopsis: there's no better place to be than in the bedchambers of the elven prince, as he eagerly yearns to give you a night you'll ask him to relive

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫note: it's time ! my first smut to ever be written & shared, thank u all for ur patience, please accept my apologies for posting the preview and then dipping without a trace…lol i largely underestimated my ability to write smut so i truly hope that you enjoy (and that it’s readable) ok ily bye enjoy!

The chill of the autumnal night establishes itself upon your skin, its reluctant air depriving you of warmth as you stifle a shiver that forces its way to your spine. You stand, leaning onto a tree carved into a grand pillar, concealed from the crowd's gaze with a clear view of the crisp sky in front of you. Your head turns to the elves glittering about in the grand hall, their hands holding glasses filled with wine. Elven wine. A sheepish smile finds you, the gilded rim of the glasses delivering memories of your first time of having made the soon to be realised mistake; the consumption of the potent liquid. 

Your head snaps back to the stars as recollection inches closer, taste buds reminded of its lightness and sweet taste of berries which proved to be a mere facade. Ignoring the gentle warnings Legolas whispered to you as you were handed a drink, playfully brushing them off as you welcomed the wine into your mouth. The faces of bewilderment and suppressed laughs as you drunkenly clung to the Prince all evening, plastering his neck and face with kisses, speaking incoherent nonsense into his ear, his arms catching you every time with an all too familiar ease as you tripped on air over and over again. 

Your eyes are struck by the face of the moon, feeling a shudder come over you. The moon being the only other witness to the night that followed as the Prince ended your attendance to the party prematurely—the moment you began tugging at his tunic, your whispers becoming coherent and too indiscreet for any ear not belonging to him to hear. His hands claimed you once your eager pleas were out of the average Elf's range of sight and sound, his mouth beckoning you to be quiet with his kiss. The warmth of the summer air and its moonlight draping your nude form as you laid atop his discarded tunic, a makeshift bed on the forest floor. 

You tighten the grip on your chalice filled with non alcoholic drink, the aching heat in your core daring to consume you as you recall the way his head dipped in between your thighs, his tongue softer than the moss you clutched. You sigh at his absence, pulling away from the moon's trance as an unavoidable wave of longing claims you, staring into the liquid of your drink. You bring it to your mouth, the brim of the chalice is cool on your lips as you force a swallow and your insides cringe at its lack of something stronger. Then, drinking more as your attempts to not think of him fail, your mind on the tips of his fingers grazing across your back, his eyes resting as his arms held you against his chest, his calmed heartbeat lulling you to sleep. You swallow the final sip, setting the chalice down. Thirst crawls its way back to your mouth.

The overwhelming sensation of sobriety prods at you with the sharpness of a blade.

Your memory becomes clouded with interruption as a gentle pair of arms envelop you from behind. A smile eases onto your lips as his chin rests on your shoulder, smelling traces of wine in his breath. Your shoulders relax as they lean into his embrace, "At last, the Prince has graced me with his presence." You speak with words drenched in playful sarcasm, drawing out a deep chuckle. 

"I have been searching for you." 

You turn to face him, your eyes failing to resist the temptation to become distracted by the moonlight that comfortably rests upon his porcelain skin. Seconds pass and you finally allow yourself to blink, your lips pursing with accusation, "And it appears you got lost in a wine cellar." 

His forehead inches to rest against yours, dwindling your yearning into a distant memory as he hums in response. "I've missed you." He breathes, sliding his hand from your waist to the side of your neck. You lean into his touch, his hand feeling irresistibly soft despite lifetimes of yielding his bow. 

"I must insist that you disobey the King's orders the next time he dares to pull you away from me for longer than a fortnight." You brush your lips against his, exchanging breaths. Silence fills the air, freeing you of the sounds of the King's autumnal celebration, harps echoing away from your ears. Your lips meet his—the kiss you’ve been waiting for, warm, soft. An urge strikes you and you depart from him before he grasps the opportunity to light the kiss ablaze, "Unless you'd like me to beg." 

A hand slips into the back of your neck, bringing you back to his mouth. You taste berries on his tongue as it enters your mouth. You moan into him, hands flying to grip his shoulders for strength against your weakening knees. 

The noise of the guests pull him away, his vision scanning for a pair of eyes lurking, a wandering ear to hear your desires meant only for him. A stream of cheers and refills invades the invisible shield you created for the both of you, proving to be ineffective. You tug at the thick, velvet-like material of his tunic, feeling spoiled as his face turns to yours with concern, albeit realising as he catches your parting lips, sensing your want. 

His hand reaches for yours, leading you into the dimly lit forest on a path most familiar. You trail behind him, his quickening pace and strong grip failing to pay any notice to the fallen leaves that stick to the silken material of your dress, the thorns from the bushes tearing almost too easily into the delicate cloth. The path brightens as you near a reentrance to the Elven King's halls, the forest pathway discreetly allowing the quickest way to your destination. Footfalls become more hurried as you smile with glee, a fistful of your dress clenches in your hand to prevent a fall into the moistened ground. You yelp above a tree vein with a mission to bring you to the earth's floor, "Legolas!" You laugh, eyes dashing to him as he falters. His frame towers over you, blending in with the surrounded oaks. 

His hand softens into yours as he halts, placing his other onto the side of your neck, a thumb strokes your warmed cheek, "Forgive my eagerness, my starlight." 

Your mouth opens in response, only allowing for a gasp to escape as his arms lift you from the ground, carrying on with haste until you are brought to his bedchambers at last. A sharp inhale penetrates you as his lips collide with yours, the shutting of the door reverberating through the room as you allow his hands to untie the cords of your dress, pulling you closer to him as it loosens against your skin. He releases himself from your lips, his kiss drifting to your ear. 

His hands move to the sides of your face, "My little star," He whispers, his lips brushing against yours as you shiver, "Will you grant me my desire to please you tonight?" 

His hardened length dares to distract you from his words, "Yes," you say, before your breath bids your lungs farewell as the simple act of breathing becomes a foreign concept. Your dress inches off of your shoulders under the command of his careful fingers, an eager gaze following his every move. Goosebumps rise as more of your skin is revealed to him, impatience stirring within your dampening core as he stops to plant kisses along your collarbone. "You cannot rush me into your chambers and undress me so slowly. It is torture." You whine. A deep chuckle vibrates against your neck before his hands grip your dress, pulling. The fine fabric you once adored turns to an unshapely mess as it hits the floor, and a sigh of relief waiting to be freed withdraws from your mouth. Strong arms hoist you up with the haste you crave, his mouth back on yours as he plants you onto the soft covers of the bed. Your hips raise to meet his cock, resulting in a groan and his tongue enters your mouth. His palm grips your thigh, and you watch with half lidded eyes as his mouth leaves yours to venture to your chest. His tongue caresses your breast, a gentle massage that sends your hand flying to his tresses and disturbs the neatness, moaning as his tongue swirls around your hardened nipple. His head rises, a lustful gaze searching for your eyes as they open, fondling your breast with his hand. He flashes you a smile and leaves a hot kiss on your neck, rising from his position above you to sit against the head of the bed. You prop yourself up on your elbow and look at him, unsure of why he stopped, mouth opening in question.

"Come." 

You lift to your hands and knees, your gaze falling to the outline of his cock as you crawl. His hand grabs your wrist before it reaches and he turns you away from him, your back sinking into his chest. His hand is on your neck as you settle onto him. Your breath becomes uneven, watching his free hand slide down to your core and reach the hem of your undergarment. You help him remove the final piece, entirely exposed as your bare body warms against his attire. 

"Tell me, my little star," He whispers into your ear as his fingers find your clit, sliding his tongue across the tip of your ear while you melt deeper into him, "Did you touch yourself while I was away?" 

You shudder, feeling his fingers glide across the wetness that gathered in your core, whimpers escaping from your lips as his slickened fingers begin to circle your clit, hips lightly jolting to swallow his touches. You moan, throwing your head back into his chest. His grip tightens around your neck, fingers pressing gently to the sides to coax an answer.

You whimper, the sounds of your wetness brought to your ears, "Yes." You moan, gasping as his pace quickens. 

You feel a smile against your skin, writhing against his strong hold, arching as the incomings of an orgasm begins to burn within you—then he stops. Your hand falls to the sheets, a whine forming in your throat.

“Show me.” Legolas says, his voice low, fingers rising from your cunt to rest upon your breast, “Touch yourself.”

You hum softly, turning to face him with a look of question, your cheeks burning with heat at his command. He’s serious—lips curled into a subtle smirk, his eyes exploring the expanse of your shivering body—all while his hand remains wrapped around your neck. Your hand rises, fingers grazing your abdomen, lowering slowly to your aching cunt. A deep inhale enters you as your eyes close, leaning your head back into him as you start to pleasure yourself. Heat overtakes your entire body as it burns against his, soft moans slipping out of your mouth as his words of encouragement—“good girl” “just like that, little dove” “show me how good it feels”—spill into your ear, prompting you to hasten your touches. His hand travels down to your clit in favour of replacing yours, which you gladly retract as it flies to grip the sheets, surrendering under his fingers. A wave of pleasure washes over you, gasping as an orgasm arrives. The Prince is intent on driving you mad with pleasure as he continues circling your delicate pearl, but your trembling hand seizes his wrist, whimpering with a weak effort to bring a pause to his pace, "Legolas." 

His fingers settle down into a leisure pace while your heartbeat struggles to calm itself in its enclosure. "Were you not eager for me to pleasure you?" He toys in a deep tone. 

"I want you inside of me." You breathe, your grip loosens on his wrist as your muscles remember how to function, the tenseness possessing your body finding relief as his fingers stop. You shift, turning to face him, cheeks heating at the sight of his face. You resist the urge to grind against his lap as you work on removing his attire, straddling him with a timidness that he finds irresistibly adorable. You avoid the wolfish smile tugging at his lips, your mouth watering as his tunic comes undone, unsteady hands reaching to explore his toned chest. 

"After all the moments we shared," He inches closer, fingers raising your chin. Your eyes meet his, weakening under his gaze, "You still remain coy as though it was the first time." 

Vision blurs from his face to the ceiling as he flips your body to lay against the soft covers of the bed. He rises and stands at the foot of the bed, gaze towering above your splayed form with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. You engage in the act of watching him as he takes the role of undressing himself, staring in awe while your insides flutter as your hand awaits restlessly to feel his cock. His return to you is quick, gratefulness erupting within when his mouth devours you with a fervent kiss. A tongue caresses yours before interruption strikes him with a moan, a sensual stroke of your hand treading dangerously along the length of him. Your fingers curl around him, raising your hips to tease his cock with the wetness of your dripping pussy—but he stops you, restraint apparent on his clenched jaw as he resists the desire to sink his cock into you, dragging his lips to the expanse of your chest, then lowering as his hands stroke your thighs, parting them. You watch as he presses kisses to your inner thighs, reaching to grab hold of his hair. His mouth moves to your core, his warm breath fanning over your cunt. You throw your head back and moan as his tongue licks along your heat, tasting the remnants of your orgasm then trailing up to suckle on your clit. His hand slides up to your breast as he slips two fingers inside of you, curling in upward motions and sending you into bliss. His name releases from your mouth through soft whines, his tongue bringing trembles trickling into your thighs. Your hips roll into his mouth with delicate force, clutching the covers as you moan through the orgasm he brings you. You loosen, laying slack as you take deep breaths, the wondrous exhaustion of being sent to heaven a second time has caught hold of you. He kisses your thigh with tender touches of his hands, then rises to meet you. Your arms wrap around him in embrace, pulling him into a kiss while his cock prods at your thigh. He reaches down to align himself with your core, saturating his length with your wetness. You rock your hips against him as it slides along your slit, whimpering in desperation for him to fill you whole. The head of his cock pushes into your cunt, and a moan leaves his mouth as he buries himself into you, reaching for your hand and enclosing his fingers with yours as he pins it above you. You moan with him as his thrusts grow deeper, pulling him close. A cry escapes your lips and your walls clench around him, raking your nails across his back with quivering lips. You love the familiarity of it all—how he knows every delicate spot to drive into over and over again, the control over your body that he masterfully possesses. His thumb trails across your lower lip as his eyes drink in the sight of you beneath him, your writhing body and nipples brushing against his chest, clinging onto him with your arms while you fill the room with sounds of your pleasure as he pumps in and out of you. 

Moments like this are dragged to a wish for eternity as his palm cradles your cheek, his thrusts slowing in an attempt to prolong your bliss—and all you can do is stare into those captivating hues as your vision blurs before your eyes shut. Your mouth parts, soundless save for the shaking of your breaths, a trembling hand reaches for the back of his neck as you shudder into your climax, the walls of your heat convulsing around his girth. "Fill me." A beg cries from your tongue, “Please.” You whimper, cheeks burning.

Your words bring a groan to his lips as his composure crumbles. His cock twitches inside of you, spilling his seed into you, dipping his head down to meet your lips for a kiss—messy, with broken breaths in between, pressing his forehead against yours. 

The subtle tremble of your thighs remains as he finally pulls out after a tender moment with his head rested in the crook of your neck. He pulls the covers to your bodies, reaching to bring you closer. You nestle into him and sigh with contentment, cheeks stamped with heat that has finally begun to cool. His fingers graze the expanse of your back under the covers, lips pressing light kisses into your neck. Your eyes close, heavy with sleep, releasing calming breaths that mingle with his as he gazes upon the sight of your face, “Gi melin.” He says and kisses your forehead, resting his chin above your head as sleep claims you. 

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ translations

elvish - english

gi melin - i love you

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ taglist: @actualnymph @celestialuna13 @silversword7000 @starbirdfinch @summerannabelle @quackquackmfs @legolaswhore @iaur @straysugzhpe @idk-whatamidoinglmao @desert-fern @suddenlyperson @zealousfartsandwich

(some usernames aren’t able to be tagged so if you joined the taglist and didn’t get tagged pls lmk)

──⠀۪ ♡ ۫ did u enjoy?

♡ pls leave a like, comment, or reblog ! ↷　

The fact that he just stood there for several minutes smiling at their struggle before reminding them he can walk on the snow-

i'm on a lotr kick so i felt like redrawing this old doodle! the point still stands, these two are always my number one deep down <3

and some bonus dancing! height differences are hard

what they were doing when they’d wander off in lothlórien

I absolutely adore the headcanon (it’s basically canon) that all elves aren’t weird, it’s just Legolas that’s Like That. So Gimli ends up having a skewed impression on what elves are really like because Legolas is just a bit… odd /affectionate

But then he meets other elves on his journey so he assumes that it must be the wood elves that are different

Then gimli finally meets the wood elves of Mirkwood and he’s very surprised bcs they do have their quirks and are quite different than the other elves but Legolas still seems to be the outlier so he assumes that it must be because Thranduil raised him that way.

Then he meets Thranduil and he realizes nope. It’s just Legolas. But gimli likes his quirks so it’s okay.

Turns out it’s autism.

at the coronation of aragorn elessar

you guys seemed to enjoy my cringe-fail legolas sexy gimli post so here’s some more of my thoughts ab that dynamic:

-when legolas goes home and announces his engagement to gimli thranduil is shocked but every other elf is like “yeah checks out. that kid’s always been a little weird.”

-gimli goes home to announce his engagement to legolas and every dwarf promptly loses their SHIT at the fact that THE gimli, son of gloin, is betrothed. only to further lose their shit at the fact that it’s to that weird elf prince that they have never heard speak unless to send some sort of diplomatical message for his father but some dwarflings once saw him sobbing in front of a tree in the middle of a rainstorm while gripping a fallen branch.

-thranduil only gives his blessing to the proposal once he realises just how angry all of erebor is that their most eligible bachelor, gimli, the silver-tongued battle ready diplomant and descendant of kings, has been stolen away by thranduils weird tree-hugging naked star gazing hippie son.