Though I Know My Heart Would Break

Though I Know My Heart Would Break

Request: For the poll that Legolas won! You guys sent in a few prompts, I've incorporated: sick (injured, rather) fic, hurt/comfort, everyone lives, and reader confesses first! Hope you guys like it! (Title is from Hozier's Francesca that has me in a chokehold)

Legolas x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Content warnings: Mild injury (no overly graphic descriptions)

3.7k words

---

You walked through the forest, ducking under the cedar branches, weaving between the cypresses. The air was rich with the scent of herbs — thyme and sage, marjoram and parsley. The late afternoon sun filtered in through the canopy, specking the forest floor with light. Legolas’ footsteps were silent on the soft ground, but the steady clopping of the horse he was leading reassured you of his presence.

With the coronation over, and Eowyn and Faramir wed, attention was turned to restoring Minas Tirith and setting up a settlement at Emyn Arnen. You and Legolas were tasked with surveying the land and forests around Emyn Arnen. Sam was curious about the plants, hearing how new and different they were to those back in The Shire, but Frodo’s reluctance to stray further than the Citadel kept him in Minas Tirith. 

You paused by a cluster of pink rockfoils, thumbing the thin stems before plucking a few small flowers and tucking them into a waxed pouch. 

“Mellon nin,” Legolas said, sounding half-amused, half-exasperated, “Why do you pause and pluck? You have been doing so since we arrived. ”

“They’re for Sam. He might have agreed to stay in Minas Tirith, but I saw the shade of disappointment in his eyes. I thought perhaps I could bring the forest to him instead.”

His lips tugged up at the corners. “And what will you give the forest in return?”

“What do you mean?” You frowned and stood. 

He smiled, soft and knowing, eyes wandering over the barks and branches. “These trees have been left at peace for many years, the bushes and shrubs untouched. They are not used to wandering fingers and restless feet.”

You glanced down at the patch of rockfoils, the decapitated stems looking more brutal in light of Legolas’ words. Your lips twisted and he chuckled, and your eyes drifted back to him.

He had always been so full of light and laughter, even during the endless days and dark nights, even after Gandalf fell, even after the hobbits were taken. Ethereal, that was what people said of the elves. Otherworldly. 

But he looked so human, so normal, standing in a patch of sunlight, laughing at the concerned expression on your face. There were smudges of dirt on his boots, dew dotting the bottom hem of his cloak, and even a small leaf lodged in his hair. 

Yes, Legolas has always just been Legolas to you. 

Perhaps that was why it had been so easy to lose your heart to him. How could you not? While the others regarded him with a deference, or awe in the hobbits’ case, or even confusion at his elf customs, he had never truly seemed so different to you. His eyes, brown and alive in the light, still crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His voice, low and melodious, still cracked when he spoke of sorrows. And his hands, delicate and strong, still bore soft calluses from his bow. 

The last couple of days had been so indulgently wonderful. Without the threat of war or the constant need for secrecy and vigilance, being out in the wilds once more was soothing. It was a great secret joy, of course, that you had Legolas’ undivided attention. 

He had been more loose limbed and free with touches. Hands grazing yours as you walked, his knee against yours while you sat. His eyes too, seemed to melt into an amber by the fire, a tenderness in his gaze. It felt as though the seed of friendship had slowly, slowly, started to grow into something more. 

“Shall we continue on?” He said, and inclined his head towards the distant sound of water. “We can set up camp and leave our things while we walk the forest.”

You nodded and smiled before looking away, eyes scanning the forest floor before they landed on a patch of flowers. They were strange looking, three pronged with large paper-like petals. You knelt by them, carefully cutting the blooms with your knife, and idly said, “It is beautiful here, is it not?”

He hummed in agreement. “I could envisage residing here for a time, should Faramir allow it.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder and chuckled. “You should speak to Sam. Aragorn has already consulted him on some of the gardens in the Citadel, it would not surprise me if Faramir would ask him to Emyn Arnen to design something.”

“Those flowers,” he began, stepping closer and inspecting them, “they are… strange. I do not know what they are, and perhaps it would be better to leave them be.”

“Are they poisonous?”

He leaned in and sniffed them. “No, but as I said before, this forest is unaccustomed to such things. Gifts must be freely given, and what is not must be a fair exchange.”

You dropped them into the pouch and laughed, continuing through the forest. There was a strange note in his voice, something older, wiser, than the Legolas you knew. But what harm could there be in a few cuttings? The forest was vast; a few flowers and leaves here and there would not be any loss at all. “Come now, Legolas, you speak as though —”

A stone caught your toe, your knee buckled, and you fell to the ground. Sharp pain jolted up your wrists and knees, then a hot stinging spread across your palms and shins. You blinked, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the rotting leaves in the dirt, before warm hands rested between your shoulder blades.

“Are you alright?” Legolas said, crouching and easing you back into a sitting position. You stared at him, eyes drifting from his eyes to his lips. Had he always had such beautiful lips? “Mellon nin, are you alright?”

“Yes… I —” The shock of tingling subsided from your hands and legs and only a dull throbbing remained. You looked down at your knee, the same knee that had been shot, and found your trousers ripped and the old wound reopened. It was not as bad as the initial wound, though still relatively deep, and was bleeding sluggishly through the matted dirt. “Oh, I’m… bleeding.”

His eyes darted from your knee to the divot in the ground where a leaf caught in your fall was stained with blood. His lips tightened before he let out a soft sigh. “It is as I said: a fair exchange.” An easy smile spread across his face, the hand on your shoulder loosened its grip, and his voice took on a merry lilt. “However, I do not believe we will have any more trouble on our little trip here.”

The shock of the fall had subsided and you looked at the pouch still clutched in your fist. “Well, I suppose I should make the most of it then, and collect what I can for Sam.”

He laughed, squeezing your shoulder affectionately. “Never one to pass up an opportunity. Come, let us set up camp by the river and have a look at your wound. I do not wish for the matrons at the Houses of Healing tomorrow to claim I have neglected you.”

He pulled you to your feet, and looped an arm around your waist to help you hobble along. His arm was warm, his grip firm but gentle. Pressed up against him you could smell his scent, something fresh like grass or water, unsullied even by a couple of days in the forest. The both of you found a suitable spot under shelter by the trees, and after tying the horse up, he led you to the banks. 

His nimble fingers pried apart the shredded remains of the fabric by your knee and started to wash the wound. He dressed it with some honey from his pack and untouched moss from the forest floor and some spare wrappings you had in your supplies for such an eventuality. 

While he worked, you watched his hands. Long and lithe, they were precise and delicate with their motions. If only you could reach out, and lay your hand on top of his, to sweep your thumb over the back of his knuckles. But your hands were still muddied, and the new closeness you shared with him was too new and too tenuous for something like that. 

Legolas set up camp with a practiced efficiency, and soon the both of you were sitting beside each other by the fire, eating your supplies of bread and cheese. The fire crackled and popped, and around you the forest became alive at night. Owls hooted in the trees, and critters rustled in the bushes, and then, very softly, Legolas began to sing. 

The words were lost on you, but the melody was enough. The notes drifted in the air, curling around you, seeping into your skin. It sounded slow and adoring, leisurely and lazy, and the sensation of lying on sun-warmed grass, your lover’s touch skirting up your arm, filled your body. You leaned back on your arms, sinking into his voice, letting it carry and caress you. 

When the last few words rang in the air, you opened your eyes. Legolas was looking at you with a fond expression, eyes half-lidded and lips in a soft smile. 

“That song,” you whispered, “what is it about?”

His smile widened and he said, “I’ll tell you another time perhaps.”

-

Legolas stood on one of the parapets that overlooked the entrance to the Houses of Healing. Your wound was not healing as well as it should, most likely because of how bad the initial arrow wound was, and you were getting it redressed by the matrons. He sighed and let his eyes wander from the stone flagstones, to the rooftops, to the plains. In truth, the sight of your flesh, angry and inflamed, shook something in him. Even something as minor as your wound, was enough of a risk for infection, for fever. 

Humans were so fragile, so… final. 

He blinked at the thought. Yes, of course, how could he forget? Humans were mortal. Boromir was, Aragorn was. Even the merry little hobbits and Gimli were. How strange to think that such a thing slipped his mind when it came to you, but it was far too easy really. 

There was a vitality that seemed to pour from your being, an almost stubborn resilience, especially in the grim shadow of misfortune. It was the way you would play with the hobbits, even after a long day of walking, or grit your teeth and carry on, even harrowing experience after harrowing experience. When you smiled, the day was better, brighter, and he always found himself trying to get another laugh from you. 

And yet… such a light could be so easily snuffed out. 

He shifted on his feet and watched as you limped from the Houses of Healing. He had intended to go with you, but Sam had wanted to discuss garden plans, and Boromir had gone with you instead. He was about to raise his arm and call out to you, when a figure emerged from behind the line of trees. Boromir walked towards you with outstretched arms and pulled you into his side and helped you along, vanishing from his sight beyond the trees.

Ever since the end of the war, it had felt as though things were shifting between him and you. It was only small, nearly imperceptible changes — softer smiles, more frequent dinners alone, hands that reached and fingers that brushed. And yet… Why did it feel as though you were on the other side of something he could not cross? 

He thought of the cry of the gulls, the perpetual tugging at his heart for the sea. Oh, how he wished he had never heard them. Was this how Arwen felt all the time? Longing, aching. She was happy with Aragron, he knew, but sometimes he would catch her gazing out of a window, eyes forlorn and smile sad. Aragorn knew, understood even, and in those moments he left her to her quiet longing, never hurt or bothered, and welcomed her into his arms when she went back to him. 

But would you understand? Could you accept that there would always be one part of him that belonged to the sea, to the distant shore he would never reach? Or would it be a burden to ask such a thing of you? Maybe you would be better off with someone… mortal. He sighed and wandered back towards the Citadel proper. 

“Boromir, this is unnecessary. Put me down!” Your laughter rang out and you and Boromir emerged onto the courtyard. You were in his arms, limbs flailing as he wrangled to keep you held properly. “Boromir, I — oh, Legolas.”

“Ah, Legolas,” Boromir said as he gently replaced you back on the ground. “I return them to your care.”

He forced a smile onto his face. “How is your leg?”

“Mild infection but nothing to worry about,” you said, hobbling over to him. 

He instinctively reached out and wrapped an arm around your waist. You were warm underneath his hand, warmer than usual, and you smelled strongly of herbal poultice. He could detect traces of burdock and comfrey, and underneath it all, the smell of you. He took a greedy breath, filling his lungs with proof of your life. “You should be resting. Let us go back inside.”

“I’ve been inside the past week. I’m bored to death,” you grumbled. “Let’s sit outside for a while.”

He helped you to one of the stone benches and you collapsed onto it, hissing in pain. You gingerly stretched your leg out and sighed as you settled. He sat next to you, his eyes lingering on your knee. 

“Oh, stop fussing. It’s quite minor, really.”

“I have seen men succumb to infection from unassuming cuts. I do not think I will rest easy until you are fully healed.”

He followed the line of your leg up to your waist, then shoulders, and along your jaw and lips, up to your nose and eyes. Such beauty, destined to fade, to vanish from the world forever. How could he bear it? How could anyone?

“What is on your mind, my friend?” You asked.

“I was just thinking about the fading nature of men. I do not know how your kind bear it.”

“Death?” You chuckled. “But elves can die too, can they not?”

“Yes, but… it is not in our nature. In peace times, it is very rare for our kind to die. For men… even now, where there is no suffering any longer, you still experience the sting of mortality.” His chest constricted. “How can one stand to behold love and light, knowing it will vanish?”

“It is because they do not last, that we relish in them.”

“Even if it will bring you pain later?”

You smiled, gentle and indulgent, and placed your hand on top of his. His shoulders relaxed at your touch, the tension seeping out of his muscles. He wanted to capture the moment, to bottle it somehow, keep the image of you with the sun on your eyelashes and the feeling of the softness of your skin forever preserved. 

“Yes,” you whispered, “even then.”

Something shifted in his heart, just slightly, and a smile crept onto his face. Yes, he thought, especially then. 

-

“Sam,” you said, surveying the small garden. He had done a good job with it — the shrubs were well trimmed and flowers burst in orange and yellow all around. “Are you certain it will look good?”

He nodded and grinned. “It’ll look real pretty with some candles about. I still remember what it looked like in Lothlorien. We don’t ‘ave the sort of fancy holders and the like, but I’ll do my best.”

You smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know how to thank you for this. I would do it myself but my knee…”

“No thankin’ needed. If anything, I should be thanking you. You brinin’ me those plants and flowers, even when the forest didn’t like you doin’ so.” His eyes fell to your knee. “I’m real sorry it caused you such trouble.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” You chuckled and patted him on the back. You looked around the garden again, trying to imagine the candles and cushions that Sam said he’d arrange for the night time picnic you had planned. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“I think he’ll love it. Mighty romantic, if I can say.”

You shifted on your feet, stomach suddenly lurching. “What if I’m mistaken, Sam? I’m not sure I could bear the embarrassment.”

The last week or so had been so lovely it had felt like a dream. Nearly every night, Legolas had invited you to sit with him at the top of some tower or parapet. He would point and tell you stories of the stars and of the elves that had come before. There were so many instances where he would lean in close, eyes half-lidded, and talk in a low, murmured tone. You would watch his lips, and watch as he watched yours. But then he would draw back and glance away. 

“The elves are funny folk,” he said with a sigh. “I couldn’t tell you what might be goin’ on in Legolas’ mind, but I doubt he would be spendin’ so much time with you if he didn’t have some… reason to do so. If you catch my meaning.”

“I hope so, Sam. Well, I’ll leave you to it. I need to go to the kitchens to see what cheese and fruit they might be able to spare me.”

He gave you an encouraging smile and with a little wave, you set off downstairs. 

The sun was just setting when Sam called you back to the garden to assess what he had prepared. Candles were dotted all around the courtyard, separated on candelabras and clustered in small groups around the picnic blanket. Plush cushions were laid out and there were little white flowers scattered on the soft wool, perfuming the air with the faint smell of jasmine. 

“Sam,” you gasped. “This is — I cannot —”

“I’ll be takin’ your speechlessness as a compliment?” He smiled shyly and ducked his head. He reached for the picnic basket in your hand and placed it on the blanket. “There, now it’s complete.”

“I’ll repay you for this Sam, I promise.”

He blushed. “Like I said before, there’s no need. Anyway, I best be hurryin’ along. Wouldn’t want Legolas to stumble upon me here and get any wrong ideas.”

You laughed and he vanished back inside. You limped over to the blanket, wincing a little as you lowered yourself, and tried to slow your breathing. Legolas would come, wouldn’t he? What if he took one look at the scene and fled? You shook your head. No, he wouldn’t do that. If you were truly mistaken about his feelings towards you, he would tell you gently and bear you no ill will.

“Mellon nin,” Legolas said from behind you and you turned, heart thumping in your chest. His eyes were wide and a slow smile was spreading across his face. “I received your message. Why have you asked me here?”

You swallowed. Did he not know? “Is it… is it not obvious?”

“I have an inkling, perhaps.” He wandered over, his steps lazy and relaxed, and sank onto the cushions. The tightness in your chest eased a fraction. “But I do not wish to presume what may or may not be in your heart. Will you not give me the truth?”

“Legolas, I…” You cleared your throat. By the Valar, why was it so difficult to speak? He arched an eyebrow at you and you glanced away, speaking more to the picnic basket than to him. “I… care for you. A great deal.”

He took your hand, and you dared to lift your gaze. He beamed at you, and then a flash of mischief entered his eyes. “As a friend?”

You scowled at him. “Do you often plan candlelit picnics for your friends, Legolas?”

He laughed and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. They were soft and warm, his breath hot on your skin. “I am teasing, meleth nin.”

Heat crept up your neck and you tried to withdraw your hand. He held fast and planted a line of kisses up, up, up, from your wrist to your elbow to your shoulder. His eyes were almost sparking in the dim, the dots of candlelight flickering in his dark irises. He kissed your jaw and your nose and your temple before dipping his head to capture your lips.

He kissed slow and languid, as though savouring the feeling of you against him. He tasted tart and sweet, no doubt from the berry and honey biscuits you knew he liked to snack on. The strange tension in your stomach snapped and vanished, and you melted under his touch. His growing smile made you giggle and your teeth knocked against his, making him laugh. 

“I am curious about what you have in that picnic basket of yours,” he murmured. “There will be time for such enjoyment later.”

A flush coloured your cheeks. “I suppose it would be a waste if we simply ignored all the food I prepared.”

“Though, before we continue, I must ask you a question first,” he said, growing grave and serious. His eyes drifted down to your joined hands, and he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “Could you bear being with me, living with me, when part of my heart is forever owned by the sea?”

You reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “My love, could you bear to be with me? If you stay, you will fade.”

“It would be a worse fate to live eternity without you,” he whispered. “That I could not bear.”

“Legolas…” It seemed all the more tragic that he, of all people, should die. He was light and joy and the thought of him growing cold and dim wrenched at your heart. “You deserve to… I cannot…”

“I have made my choice, meleth nin. Let us be happy together.” He cupped your cheek, a smile spreading across his face. His eyes were soft, but certain, his touch gentle but sure. He kissed the tip of your nose, chuckling, before he slanted his lips against yours. The kiss was chaste and quick, and all the more sweeter for its casualness. 

“For however long we have,” he murmured, “let us be happy.”

“Alright,” you said. You rested your forehead against his, inhaling his scent, breathing his breath. Yours, for now, for ever. “For however long we have.”

---

ok but what is it about the immortality of elves that has me appreciating/relishing/romanticising our mortal lives. i swear this is the second time ive done this with legolas.

Taglist: @sotwk

He is so cute, love him 🥹

(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. 

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬/𝐨'𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

Warning: scars, talking about scars and how reader got them, self harm, battle wounds, getting naked - not smut, keeping it PG and sfw. 

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

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This was so heartbreakingly beautiful. The way you described their pain, the way every word appeals to my emotions to the point of tears is so marvelous. Thid story is one of the best I've come across. There are simply no words that can truly describe it's effect on me.

A Bed of Roses [Finale]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Words: 6880

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Superpower!AU

“She’s dangerous. She’s a monster, a threat, a killer. Why would we want to let a criminal go on the loose? What if she hurts people?!” Wendy shouts, slamming a fist onto the table. “What are we going to do then?! How do we explain it to the public?! It would be our fault!!”

“Well…we’re going to have men follow her every move and we’ll inject her with a tracking device. If she goes crazy or passes the time limit, the bomb inside her will explode.” Niel shrugs. “I don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is that the risk is too high! It’s not worth it.” Wendy spits at him, crossing her arms.

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NSFW Alphabet - Legolas

I blame "The Rings of Power" for getting me all riled up over this elfin dude. 😤 Also, NSFW Alphabets are one of my favorite types of smutty writings because they're a great overview of the character, and they're really good for getting me thinking about what scenarios and oneshots I could potentially write for the character. ALSO also: for the purposes of this fic, we're giving Legolas dark grey eyes. I do not like the blue contacts in "The Hobbit" at all, and in the books his eyes are grey, BUT since Bloom's eyes are dark brown, I decided dark grey would be a good medium. But you can imagine him with whatever color eyes you want! 😉

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The literal Prince of Aftercare. Did you expect this soft, sweet cinnamon roll to be anything else but loving afterwards?? He worships you, giving you sweet praises in Sindarin and Westron, telling you how well you took him, while he strokes your hair and holds you tightly. He will get you whatever you desire, whether it be food or drink, or a nice hot bath. He loves gently bathing you as he sits behind you in the tub, leaning you back against his strong chest. He'll massage your sore muscles, rub soothing Elf ointment on you, and then cover you both in the softest blankets as you fall asleep in his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Legolas absolutely loves your neck and bare shoulders. He finds these areas so intimate and alluring. Your beautiful neck is just begging to be kissed and sucked when you arch it for him during sex, and your bare shoulders draw his hands from his sides to caress them. He also loves your luscious hips and supple thighs. Elvish women are generally svelte, and you were worried when you first fell for him that he would find your womanly shape unappealing, but to the contrary, it enthralled him. He loves squeezing and stroking all your curves, and he especially loves that he can grip your hips to pull you back into him when he's taking you from behind. He can hike your thighs up higher around his waist so he can angle himself deeper when he's fucking you face to face.

On himself, Legolas is very proud of his hair, arms, and hands. He knows he has beautiful hair, and when you first asked to touch it, he blushed furiously, but was secretly very pleased that you found it so desirable. As for his arms and hands, he has spent a great deal of his life perfecting his archery and fighting skills, and has built up lithe but incredibly strong muscles. Muscles that he uses to hold you up agaisnt the wall.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Legolas has two places that he loves to come on you, although he will gladly come anywhere you wish. First, he absolutely loves coming on your face, watching the cum drip down your soft face and graceful neck, dip into you clavicle, and then down your breasts. He think it is the most beautiful, the most arousing sight he has ever seen. He was deeply ashamed to request trying this, so you took the initiative and knelt down to let his cum splatter onto your face. His reaction was one of such awe and pleasure that you simply had to do it again and again. His second favorite place is on your lower back/ass. Really, what these two places boil down to is that he loves seeing you covered in his cum; it's like marking that you're his, a sight only for him to see, and the sight drives him absolutely wild.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Legolas would literally rather die and never see the Undying Lands than ever tell a single soul this, but he has a particular dream of stumbling upon you completely naked in a woodland glade (for his eyes only, of course) shooting a bow--his bow, to be precise. He knows it is strange, but the thought of you absolutely bare, with every curve on display, using his weapon with your muscles tensed and taut, just absolutely ruins him. He has had many, many dreams about this exact scenario, and if for whatever you reason you found out and decided to surprise him by fulfilling this fantasy, he is positive his poor elfin heart would stop and he would die on the spot. (Spoiler alert: you do find out about it when, after one of his nights drinking too much with Gimli, he drunkenly tells you. You of course surprise him several days later by inviting him to meet you out in the forest, where you are waiting naked with his bow. He does not, in fact, die, but he is speechless for several long minutes. He then fucks you senseless and decides that he is the luckiest being in any of the realms.)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is not experienced; he has had at most two flings before he met you, long ago in his early youth, and only a handful of times with each. BUT--this does not at all mean he is bad or awkward when you get together. Far from it, in fact. Not only is Legolas keenly observant (he sees with his elf eyes, after all), but Legolas has read some things. You see, the Elves have a lot of writing about a great many number of things, including sex. There is a great deal of early Elvish erotic poetry (complete with pictures) that Legolas just so happened to read in his teenage years. It has stuck with him ever since. As his father's library expanded, it gradually grew to include volumes of a similar nature, but from a human perspective. He, being the learned scholar he is, read that, too. Only he didn't think he'd ever need to use that knowledge--until he met you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He'd be hard pressed to choose a favorite position, but he absolutely loves taking you from behind when you're both laying down on your sides. This position allows him to be as slow and sensual as possible, and he can reach around and play with your nipples and breasts, or stimulate your clit; he can also kiss that lovely neck of yours, or turn your head so he can press deep, passionate kisses on your lips. For times when you both need it hard and fast, he holds you up against the wall, with your legs wrapped around his waist. He can hold you like that for multiple rounds, and can use the wall for leverage. He loves being able to kiss your lips, neck, and shoulders in this position, and his dark grey eyes bore into your e/c ones, making sure he's bringing you to the height of ecstasy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Nothing about Legolas is goofy or silly, but he does have a unique sense of humor, and will say little things to make you smile or laugh, or even blush (which makes him smile and laugh), during your time together. There are times, however, when he is deadly serious and just needs you. He won't joke during those times, and you wouldn't think to, either.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has very trim, tidy hair down there, and it grows like that naturally, so he doesn't have to do much grooming. He has a tiny little trail of faint golden hairs leading from his lower abdomen to his groin. You think it's incredibly sexy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Legolas is deeply intimate, no matter the occasion. He believes that making love (or even the times when it's fucking) is a special thing, one that he does not take for granted. So he wants to show you how special you are to him. He reads you love poems, and erotic poems in Sindarin and Westron, and will light a few candles for soft lighting. He'll hold you close, whispering sweet phrases to you: Chin gelair chîn orthernir guren. (Your radiant eyes conquered my heart.)  Thîr vain chîn darn thulen. (Your beautiful face halted my breath.) He will also write poetry and songs just for you, which is incredibly romantic.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Yes. Just yes. He does, and when he first fell for you, he was greatly surprised to find that he simply could not control his urges, which proved quite . . . distracting. You met when you joined the Fellowship, and during the various battles that followed, like the Battle of Helm's Deep, was not the most opportune time to get a boner. So he had no choice but to find somewhere and jerk off, otherwise he would have been too distracted during battle. So now that you're together, he doesn't need to jerk off so much, but since there are times he must be apart from you, he still finds it necessary. During these times, he just dreams his fantasy of you naked and wielding his bow. He also dreams of what he'll do to you when he returns.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

P R A I S E KINK. Your handsome elf needs to hear that he is doing a good job, he needs to know that he is the only one who can make you feel this good. He lives for your praise, for your sweet, lust-filled moans when he's taking you; tell him how strong he is, how handsome you find him, please. He will shower you in praise in return: "How well you take me, Miluis (lovely one). So beautiful for me, spreading your legs so good for me."

Hair pulling kink. He *loves* it when you pull his hair, whether he's going down on you or if he's balls deep inside you. It shows him how great he's doing. He likes the bit of pain that comes with such pleasure. He also likes to pull your hair. If he's behind you, he'll wrap it around his hand and pull enough to make your head snap back; if he's in front of you, he'll do the same in order to reveal your neck to him, so he can suck and bite on it. Speaking of which. . .

He loves it when you bite and suck on his sensitive ears. You rubbing and caressing the tips sensually is completely foreplay to him, and you know just how to rub them.

He also loves spanking your ass. He would never truly hurt you, because he loves you and knows he's much stronger than you, but he does love seeing the imprint of his hand outlined in red on your ass check. He likes to watch it jiggle when he spanks you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Because you two are travelling much of the time, you don't really have a fixed location exactly, but he loves any room you two share on your adventures. It's the intimacy of the space that he craves. He also loves any forest, meadow, glade, or dale, too. Seeing you exposed to him under the night sky with the stars, or under the bright sunlight, just does something to him.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

In keeping with his fantasy, seeing you using his bow and using it well gives him an instant boner. Along that line, any fighting skills you posses and use will turn him on. If you pin him down during a sparring session using your thick thighs, he immediately stops fighting you, gets the cockiest grin on his face, a massive boner, and just lays back enjoying it. Seeing you in elfin clothes, with your hair beautifully braided (by him, of course), with a pale gossamer gown that dips low and shows off your neck and collar bones makes him fall in love with all over again (and also leads to you finding some private room somewhere to fuck). If you should happen to learn Sindarin (you do, of course) and you start to say something even remotely teasing, he is instantly a blushing, horny mess. (You do this often.) Bonus points are given if you say it in a low, sensual voice, just barely whispering it against the shell of his ear. He is literally putty in your hands.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Legolas would never take you in an environment he felt was dangerous (so like, if there are orcs roaming about), because as much as he desires you, he would never forgive himself if he didn't keep you safe. He is also not a fan of anything public. He is very private and reserved when it comes to things like that; as he is an elf of few words, being in a spot where you could get caught or within easy earshot of someone hearing him giving you pleasure would likely lead to teasing from the rest of the Fellowship, and that is a conversation he does not wish to have.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Have you heard ya boi roll his 'R's in Sindarin?? Of course he is amazing at giving oral. He absolutely loves the taste of you, like sweet water, and puts all of his linguistic skills to good use when pleasuring you. He has also eaten you out many times while you hovered over his face. Anyway he can give you oral, he would gladly do. On the other hand, he equally enjoys receiving. Not only is your technique superb, but in this position he can sit and watch your beautiful face as he cums all over it. You take his cock and his cum so well, and to be honest, this is something he had only read about in those erotic Elf texts until he met you. You literally stole the breath from his lungs the first time you wrapped your tongue and mouth around his hard shaft.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Generally, Legolas prefers to take his time with you, so slow and sensual is his preferred pace. This way, he can make sure to give you the maximum amount of pleasure: kissing, caressing, breast play, oral, before sliding into your wet heat, he loves all of it. But as said before, there are sometimes when he just wants to fuck you senseless and do it roughly, so he'll slam into you at a bruising pace, which you love.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Occasionally they're necessary because of time constraints, but he prefers the times when he can give you all of his attention instead of rushing through it, which is why you don't often have them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like the situation previously mentioned where there might be orcs or other malicious beings around, he is just unwilling to risk your safety. He doesn't have the drive to have sex where there's an added element of danger. And while he does love pulling your hair and spanking you, anything more that might break your skin or cause lasting harm, like knife play or whips or wax play--these are not risks he takes with you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

My dear, he is called the most tireless of all the Fellowship for a reason. You will most assuredly get tired long before he does, but honestly he prefers it that way, because the thought of not being able to satisfy for as many times and as long as you desire honestly makes him a little sad. He is always up for more than one round, but realizes that for your human body, that might not always be physicallly possible. So, he tries to go for as long as possible, like well over an hour as long as you're not too tired or sore. Your bones are usually limp by the time you're done.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Elves, unsurprisingly have several toys, but because mechanical and electric things have not been invented yet, these are stationary and usually involve insertion. You've tried them together, but they weren't anything special. You much prefer your fair Elf prince's fingers, tongue, and cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Also unsurprising: Legolas is a huge tease. He will somehow always manage to sneak up on you without a sound and then whisper something shockingly naughty against your ear while ghosting a light kiss over your neck. When you turn around to say something, he is somehow standing far away, grinning st how aroused he made you from something so simple. He will also make a big show of braiding and unbraiding his hair in front of you, knowing that you desperately want to run your fingers through it. Speaking of showing off, he manages to be practicing some martial art or other shirtless a truly absurd number of times. Even when it's freezing out. "Is it not a bracing day out, perfect for exercising, Miluis?" You would fuss at him that it's too cold out, but you know he doesn't really feel the cold and then you'd have to deprived of the sight of his muscles.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not loud, but talkative. For someone who is generally quiet, he says a lot during sex. He is always whispering praises in Sindarin and Westron, as well as many swear words in both languages. He can't help it; he just needs to say how good you make him feel and how much he loves you. He won't mind if you make some noise, however. He lives for your moans and pants, your praises and screams. He'll do anything to get those out of you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

It is Legolas's personal goal to go through every position and technique he read about in Those Books (you know the ones) with you. He thinks you would both greatly enjoy it, and plans on asking you if you'd like to some day. You will of course say yes, and will have the best sex of your life.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He's long, not very thick, but veiny. His cock has a mushroom head, and gets a very fleshy pink when aroused. The anatomy is the same shape as a human man.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. He wants you all the time, anywhere (so long as it's safe), any way. You can wake him up at 2:00am, and he's ready to go. He's ready after a long day of journeying, after a battle, after lunch--any time you want. He just loves you so much, and loves connecting with you physically and emotionally. You bring out all of his desire, and he has to show you that. If you don't have a high sex drive, though, he's of course very respectful and can content himself with plenty of jerking off to his favorite bow-wielding fantasy.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Elves vary greatly in their sleeping needs; for Legolas, he always makes sure you are safe and comfortable before even thinking about dosing off. Sometimes he'll immediately fall asleep, not from exhaustion, but just because of how comfortable he is. Other times, he might be exhausted, but he'll stay up, looking at you dream. He'll go over in his mind what you two just did and how much he loved it.

Could I pls get some head cannons of domming legolas 💕

He wants to please his lover so bad, spend hours between their legs and be called a good boy.

Legolas is a giver, but if his partner wants to tie him down and break him, he will let them. He'll give his body to them.

He may try and make snide remarks, just to rile his lover up. Once they start to grope and tease him however, he can't think straight enough to be a brat.

Gets whiny and pitiful so fast. Begging for more, whether their pleasuring him or punishing him.

Loves getting pegged, especially with his face pressed into the pillow and his ass in the air.

Such a pretty crier, overstimulate him and he's in tears. He's sobbing and pleading to cum, or for them to take mercy and stop spanking him.

When he does finally cum, he's thanking his lover and babbling about how he feels so good.

Will definitely need aftercare, cuddles especially. Wants his lover to pull him to their chest and pet his hair, telling him how good he was for them.