If you don’t want to spoil the ending do not read the second request.
‘Legolas/reader where he finds you traumatized in the forest after your companions have been killed by spiders and takes you captive and has to persuade you to eat/talk and stays with you while you sleep and falls in love with you.’ and ‘Legolas and the reader sneak away to be alone and he confesses his feelings.’ Part 1:
You have been wandering around the forest for days, even weeks now. You have no purpose any more. Nothing to aim for, the only thing keeping you moving is the fear that if you stop and allow yourself rest, everything will come flooding back to you; memories that would best remain forgotten. Even as you place one foot in front of the other, you can’t help the flashbacks that overcome your vision, where all you can see is blood soaked webs. You curse yourself. You should have fought, not been a coward and hid, you could have saved them, and if not you should have died with them, not running from your fate as their ear-splitting screams of pain filled the air. You could still hear it now. A constant reminder of your cowardice. It was all your fault.
Enslaved by a Dragon - [Flashback #5- Wine and Destruction] - CumberSmaug Fanfiction
Chest pains. The little devil had faked chest pains and deliberately grabbed his hands and pressed them against her. It had been a struggle, but she finally released him. But not before she caught in his expression his painful awareness of her warm softness.
Cumber buried his face into his hands, trying to ignore the dull throbbing in his head and loins. A whole day he wasted standing under a waterfall, trying in vain to chill the flame that she had so carelessly ignited. And now it was night. The burning was unabated, and the dull haze that had filled his mind grew thicker by the minute.
Her teasing could not have come at a worse time. The full moon was out, and the beast within would overtake him tonight. Smaug was a sick opportunist, and it would take advantage of his weakness. He was not certain if he had the strength to stop it.
“You can come out of hiding now,” Smaug rumbled from the treasure chamber. “Her eyes have gone dark.”
Cumber stepped cautiously into the light, and his heart wrenched at the sight of her.
Her lips were stained with wine, her eyes blank and swimming with tears.
“…Smaug said it would eat you,” she blubbered. “…It said it would tear you, limb by limb, unless I finished every last drop.”
“…And make her pick out your bones from between my teeth, I might add.” Smaug rumbled, a toothy grin stretching across its hideous face. “Such a good girl. So very obliging.”
“…It’s ok,” She whispers softly. “…I drank it all. You’re safe now.”
Guilt and bittersweet affection seized him, and he wrapped her in a tight embrace. She softened against him and her empty goblet clattered against the treasure. The dragon had made her drink too much. It always gave her too much.
But secrets had to stay secret, and she could not be allowed to remember.
“Is she not so much sweeter with the flush of wine upon her cheeks? Look how she shivers, how her pupils darken. She is a tasty morsel, she is.”
“Would you shut it?” Cumber growled irritably. “It’s bad enough you’ve frightened her so. She would have drank the wine without your threats.”
Thick, black smoke curled from Smaug’s nostrils in amusement. “But what would be the fun in that?”
“…Monster,” he spat.
Smaug laugh’s boomed across the hall, and mounds of treasure shimmied down his colossal form. “No. Tonight, you’re the monster.”
It pulled itself from the gold, spreading its wings like a monstrous bat. Brilliant blue flame curled around the dragon like fingers, enveloping it in a fiery grasp before swallowing it whole. She wailed fearfully, and Cumber clasped her tight against him, shielding her from the blast of heat.
In the ashes of the dragon stood a man with dark, unruly hair, with high, chiseled cheekbones and an angular jaw. He was a splitting image of Cumber. But of course he was. Cumber and Smaug were one and the same, a single soul split in two. One a dragon, and the other a man. Until the moon swelled in full, when the the pull forced them to switch forms for the night.
Smaug dusted the ash from his shoulders and strode forward. He stretched out his arms and back, refamiliarizing with the muscular flesh of the human form. He cocked his head to the side and beckoned to him.
“My turn to hold her, don’t you think?”
Cumber narrowed his eyes and held her tighter against him. “…What do you want with her?”
Smuag snorted. “Night after night you fill my dreams with her. And you ask me what I want?” He stepped behind her, running his palms along her waist. Startled, she turned to face him. She frowned in confusion, looking back and forth at Cumber and Smaug.
“You fill my dreams with carnage and death. Yet you do not see me ravaging villages every full moon.”
“That is because you are a coward! I do not fear my urges, I indulge them! That is why I am the dragon, and you are the weak, pathetic little meat bag who can’t even tend to our needs properly!”
“…I do tend to our needs properly.”
“You think I do not feel the constant ache in your loins, the fluttering in your heart? If you refuse to let me eat her, at least allow me to fulfill one of my needs.”
Cumber felt flame curl in his throat. “Is it not enough that we massacred her family!” He seethed. “You would have us take her innocence as well?”
“I recall her willing. More than willing, in fact.” Smaug ran his hand slowly along her neck and down her shoulders, enjoying how she shivered under his touch.
“She does not know who she offers herself to! I should have stopped you. I should have-”
“-As if you had the strength, you puny, miserable thing. You barely have the strength to stop me now. I feel the density of your mind. You are slow. Stupid.”
“…Cumber,” she breathed, looking dazed from staring between the two them.“…There’s two of you.”
“No,” Smaug murmured, pressing his body into her so she was sandwiched between them. “You’ve had too much wine. There’s just the one.”
She flushed slightly. “…I…don’t mind… having two…”
“…You don’t mind having two, when you haven’t had even one?” Smaug purred in her ear, his hands grazing down her back. “You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you.” She shivered, and leaned in against Cumber. Her body molded to his, soft and supple. He could feel her arousal through her thin cotton dress. She was so soft yet firm. Just like this morning. His innards stirred guiltily. Smaug gently grazed his teeth along her neck, and she trembled. She looked up at Cumber with eyes dark with wine and lust.
“…Touch me,” she whispered. “Please?”
His mouth was dry, his head pounding uncontrollably. He reluctantly pulled himself from her, taking several steps back.
Smaug smiled slyly and took her hands in his. “…Show me how you want to be touched.”
“Don’t-” Cumber’s eyes widened as she slowly guided his hand between her thighs. Smaug’s breath escaped him in a soft hiss.
Cumber wrenched his hand from her. “Have you no shame? Do you not recall how we’ve wronged her?”
Smaug amber eyes were gleaming. “…You feel how drenched she is,” He whispered. He raised his fingers and brushed her nectar across Cumber’s lips, then leaned over and lapped them from his lips. “…Delicious, isn’t she?”
“…Control yourself.” Cumber growled. Smaug threw his head back and laughed.
“I do as I please. And this…” He slid his hand between her thighs, lightly grinding against her desire with his knuckle. “…Pleases me.”
She mewed and leaned against him, her back arching at the friction. Cumber grabbed her shoulders and tried to pull her away. She wove her fingers through his hair and pulled him close. There was fire mirrored in her half-open eyes as she kissed him. Her lips were sweet and ripe like summer cherries. Her fingernails were digging delightfully into his chest. He felt the blood drain away from his face; the hunger he had tried so hard to repress reared its ugly head.
“Do you think she touches herself, thinking of us?” Smaug traced his ring finger lightly along her slick heat. “In the dark of the night, small, delicate fingers curling, exploring…” His finger slid into her heat, coaxing a moan from her throat and into Cumber’s mouth.
“…Sweet, muffled cries breathed into her pillow. The scent of her desire soaking the air…”
Cumber shook his head slowly. “…Would you…shut up…Please.”
“…So deliciously tight. Ripe and desperate to be plucked…”
Cumber uttered an involuntary cry, and Smaug snickered. Her hands danced down to his waistband, tracing precariously near his growing desire.
“…Don’t do that,” He choked, although he could not bring himself to stop her.
“…But it’s…not…fair,” she whimpered, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “You’re…touching…me…”
“You selfish bastard,” Smaug hissed. “You would deny me pleasure?”
Cumber’s breath caught in his throat as her fingers grazed slowly up and down the length of him through his trousers. Both man and beast shuddered at the sensation. His mind was thick with smoke. With every slow friction it was getting harder to think. He had to. Make her stop. But the jolts of heat. Running up and down. So very. Welcome.
He choked out a sob as she slipped him free.
“…What are you doing?” His throaty protest rang hollow in his own ears.
“Taste him,” Smaug breathed in her ear. “Until he melts in your pretty mouth.”
She pushed him down with surprising strength. And suddenly all he saw was red. Dark, delicious red that shivered through him in waves of scorching electricity. Her hungry little mouth lapping and suckling, her throat humming with desire. He gripped her hair and tried to pull her off him. But oh god her lips. Her tongue. His eyes rolled back and a deep, guttural groan escaped him. Slippery, wet heat curled about him, blinding him with smooth, tight friction.
Where had she learned how to-
How did she know-
He was slipping away, further and further into the tantalizing flicks and swirl of a deliciously nimble tongue. Her hair was bunched in his fingers as he guided her to take him harder, deeper. Smaug was behind her, his fingers slow and steady, his eyes boring into Cumber’s with a hazy victory. She cried out, her legs shaking under the growing weight of her climax. Cumber felt that deep twist of boiling pleasure inside him, the pent up glow of white hot tension building like fire ready to erupt from a dragon.
He jerked away from her. The agony of guilt twisted with unfulfilled desire was worse than death. But he was unraveling, flames flicking at his flesh, consuming him whole in unstoppable voracity. He saw the blinding terror blossom in her eyes and overtake her in a bloodcurdling scream as she saw what he was becoming.
If she ever comprehended the truth of who he was, what he was. He would lose her forever.
His wretched guilt and self-loathing erupted from the depths of him in a stream of fire. And then he was growing. Stretching. Wings shot from between his shoulder blades. The human gave way to leathery skin and iron scales, monstrous limbs like ancient trees and claws like deadly meathooks. From the ashes of the man, rose the dragon.
She was unconscious; the wine and fear had been too much for her. Smaug threw a jewel-crusted helmet at him irritably. It glanced off his scales harmlessly, and Cumber flicked him away. He curled his tail around her protectively.
Enslaved by Kings and Dragons - [Flashback #7- Whispers of a Palantir] - Thranduil and Cumbersmaug Fanfiction
Such sadness for one so young, it whispered in your mind. I can feel your heartbreak through your fingertips.
You stared deep into Cumber’s crystal, mesmerized. The beautiful, smoky sphere was perfectly smooth and warm to the touch. Sweet, hazy numbness tingled through your fingers and rolled through you like a shimmering mist. You welcomed it, letting it draw your pain from your heart like one would draw venom from a wound.
You had returned to Erebor utterly broken. Cumber never returned to Erebor at all. Night after night you curled up against his pillow and cried yourself to sleep, hating him with every beat of your aching heart, but loving him all the same. His covered crystal ball whispered to you from his shelf, offering you soothing words like mother calming an inconsolable child. It bade you to uncover it, so it could look at you, to share in your pain. Cumber had warned you not to touch the crystal ball. But he had abandoned you to tend the dragon alone, and you were desperately in need of a friend.
I can teach you the secrets to the hearts of men. Give you the power to raise them high or crush them beneath your feet. Open your heart to me, and I will open your mind.
So you opened yourself to the darkness, feeding it your pain until what was left of your heartbreak was a soft pang of regret. You grew accustomed to its gentle sifting of your memories, to the flash of emotions and thoughts that were not your own. Under the influence of the darkness, you became older. Wiser. You knew things, dark, wondrous things; of enchantments and magic, of pleasure and pain. You tasted desire of a different sort, a lust for power so great and all-consuming not even love could stand in its way.
In your numbness you found somber understanding. Cumber did what he did because he was never yours to love, and he made it clear the only way you would listen. You could not find it in yourself to hate him, nor could you blame him for carving out the boundaries between you. All you wanted now was his safe return.
Oh, he’ll return. By the full moon, he will have no choice.
The darkness was as cryptic as it was secretive, and it ignored you questions on how it was so certain. As the month neared its end and the night of the full moon drew near, it bade you to empty the barrels of wine deep in the cellar. You did not want to; you had never tempted the dragon’s wrath before, and Cumber was not around to save you. The darkness tasted your anxiety and swallowed it, leaving you numb and subdued. You did as it asked, uncorking the barrels and letting the wine gush into the sewers until the barrels were dry. And when the dreaded night of the month finally came, when Smuag loomed over you with his tail curled around the jeweled goblet, demanding that you fill the cup with wine and drink until oblivion, all you could do was stand there in frozen terror. The darkness quickly took over and spoke on your behalf.
“Rats have gotten to the barrels and chewed through the wood,” it/you lied smoothly. “We are out of wine. I could row to Laketown and buy more, and return in less than an hour.”
You cowered behind a gold statue as Smaug roared and thumped its tail angrily. The dragon stormed about the treasure room in great agitation. Finally, it leaned down and glared at you.
“Go make yourself useful and find me some treasure. I tire of my collection.”
You stare at your master blankly. “…But it is night! All the Laketown jewelers will be at home counting their gems-”
“-I don’t care what time it is,” it growled. “Get out of my mountain. I don’t want you anywhere near Erebor tonight. I shall give you a night and a day to return with treasure. Should you fail to return by the next nightfall, I shall ignite your collar and reduce you to a pile ash.”
The darkness forces down the hysteria building in your chest. Worry not. Let me take you to treasure that would make Smaug green with envy.
And so you rowed to Mirkwood under the light of the full moon with a knapsack on your back. The darkness lead you to a secret cavern heavily guarded by elite elven guards. You begged the darkness to reconsider, but it paid you no heed, your despair only feeding its strength. It forced you to climb up a tree as it summoned a horde of spiders to distract the guards. The guards sprung into action the moment they heard the ominous chittering, their silver blades drawn. As the spiders descended upon them, you slipped into the cave unnoticed.
What Smaug possessed in gold, Thranduil possessed in jewels. Millions upon millions of diamonds, rubies, and sapphires glittered and gleamed in elaborate displays throughout the winding corridors of the cavern. Gems of pure starlight illuminated your path with scattered rays of rainbow and white. You walked through glittering labyrinth, pilfering only the smallest, least precious of the gems. But even the smallest rubies crackled with flame, the dullest opals flashed like the secrets of the universe.
You know nothing of treasure, child. Let me show you what is truly precious.
The darkness lead you deeper, until you found yourself in a hidden room with a tiny wooden box on a marble pedestal. Inside the box was a ring, a simple, sparkling emerald set in a carved wooden band. In the vague haze of memories that were not your own, you recognized the unfinished ring of power, the fourth elven ring secretly crafted by Celebrimbor.
The darkness hissed in disgust. The ring in the box was a fake.
We must hurry; Thranduil has sensed an intruder. His guards have abandoned the spiders and are returning.
You raced out of the cavern, crashing blindly through the trees towards your rowboat. But the guards were swift and silent, and they cornered you before you had the chance to hide the knapsack. You were dragged kicking into the halls of the Mirkwood King.
No words could describe how you felt the moment your eyes met. Thranduil was cold and beautiful; it was as if you were in the presence of a demi-god. He gazed down at you as if nothing in the world mattered now that he knew of your existence. The feverish glint in his eyes was his desire to possess; he meant to have you, dragon be damned.
The darkness shrank back in disgust; this had not been in its plans.
You went to him willingly, surrendering to his hunger as tinder to fire. From his lips you found truth; from the grasp of his hands, the gasp of his breath, you found belonging. He was your first, and yet instinctively you knew him before he made you his own. You responded to him as if you had been his for centuries, and he responded to your touch with breathless confusion and delight. It was not in his nature to so consumed, but night after night he came for you, lost and ravenous. He would devour you, filling you and making you whole and perfect until you drifted off in exhaustion. When he thought you were asleep, he would gather you in his arms and hold you tenderly as he dared not while you were awake. He whispered to you his hopes, his fears, his struggle with the madness and hypocrisy that was his actions. And you loved him for it, although he could never know.
With each passing day, with each tender moment you shared with your king, the darkness within you writhed and seethed with vicious venom.
In my name, you will reduce everything he loves into ash. And when I have drained his woods dry, I shall leave you to his wrath. He will free your head from your miserable shoulders and leave your carcass out for the vultures. And then he will forget you, because in truth you are nothing but a meaningless diversion to his pathetic life.
It poisoned your thoughts with fear and guilt, and grew strong on your torment. And after a night of starlight, it now roils with renewed bloodlust and hatred. It taunts you with images of carnage and destruction, promsing to massacre every elf in Mirkwood, saving their king for last. In darkness it will bind him, and make him watch as it makes you carve out his heart with a knife. And as the light fades from his eyes, it will make you whisper your love to him over and over and over again.
You leave me no choice, it breathes as it relishes in your grief. You should never have been captured at all.