#thorindrabble

You shook your head to rid of the dirty thoughts and walked out of the door, into the dark twilight of Rivendell, the cold air stinging your arms. You strode around the castle grounds, passing the dwarves rooms and greeting the elves who were taking walks, like you. You waltzed passed a familiar door and hesitantly let yourself in.

Thorin looked up from his position sitting on the bed, and the familiar swirl of lust swam in his eyes.

“Hey Thorin.” You said quietly. He didn’t answer. He just stood up and walked over, linking his hands with yours.

“(Y/N),” He said huskily, your breath quickened as he leaned closer to your ear, “I need you.”

That was all you needed. You pushed him backwards onto the bed until he fell backward. You leaned over him, spreading you legs to wrap around his hips and crashed your lips onto his. He kissed back equally passionately and knotted a hand in your hair. He rolled you over until your back was pressed against the mattress and he was on top, his crotch locking into yours. He grinded onto you slowly, causing you to moan loudly into his mouth. He moved his hand from your hair to your breast, kneading the sensitive flesh; the other holding your waist and sliding it against him.

He lifted your tunic over your head and threw it to an unknown place n the room, giving him full access to your upper torso. He shrugged off his coat and you helped him remove his shirt. You trailed your fingers along his strong chest, making him shiver and groan. He leant down to your chest and brushed kisses along the tender flesh. You moaned at his talented mouth. You desperately pull his trousers down his legs, plunging your hand in to his pants. He shoved his head into the crook of your neck, groans rippling in the air as you stroked him.

“(Y/N).” He said,  his voice strained. He suddenly grabbed your wrist and pressed it into the bed, holding you with an iron grip. You moaned loudly as he spontaneously, plunged his finger into your sensitive folds. You bucked your hips as his thumb ghosted over your clit in figure-8 movements.

“Uggh Thorin.” You cried out. He bit down on your neck slightly and sucked over the mark. He pressed down roughly onto your clit making you arch your back off the mattress and almost scream in ecstasy. “I need you.” You whined.

He removed his fingers and lined himself up at your entrance, teasing you slightly. You throw your head back into the pillow, pushing yourself up to him. “Please Thorin.” You shouted.

He smirked at your plea but it was wiped off his face and replaced with pure pleasure and he sank into you. He let out a deep puff off breath. He let you adjust to his size, watched as you gave him a tight nod and slowly started to rock his hips into you.

You gripped the blankets in your fists and he thrust into you, filling up deliciously each time. He placed his hands on your hips, prying your legs wider and picking up his speed. You gripped his shoulders tightly, your fingernails digging into his skin and let out a loud, long moan. He brushed against your g-spot and you yelled out. He angled himself to press against this spot each time he plunged into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Thorin, I-I-“You panted. He leant down and nibbled your ear.

“Let go for me, (Y/N).” He whispered, his voice thick with pleasure. You obeyed and felt your walls contract around him, making him groan, and your orgasm rippled over you, making your head spin and scream out his name. He soon followed, calling out your name and pulling out, his seed spilling over your stomach.

You both stopped for a moment, panting heavily, eyes closed and skin coated in sweat. Thorin shakily stood up, and using a cloth he found on the bed side table next to him, cleaned you up and threw it into a waste basket in the corner of the room. He climbed over you and slumped into the bed, wrapping his arms around you protectively. You curled into his chest and felt him brush his lips onto your forehead. You trailed your fingertip across his chest and he sighed deeply.

"Thorin!" you yelled as you felt the first contraction coming. You scrunched your eyes up in pain and cried out. You felt Fili's hand leave your back, and instead it was replaced by Thorin's large hands wrapping themselves around your upper arms. You opened your eyes in relief, and he leaned forwards to place at gentle kiss on your forehead. Recently, you hadn't been on best terms with Thorin. You had disagreed with almost everything he had said or done since the dragon was killed. The worst was when he tried to throw Bilbo from the ramparts.

You remembered how when none on the company would do it, he turned and looked at you in desperation. You knew he didn't wish for you to do it, but it was as if he was screaming for help. However you just shook your head at him with tears in your eyes. How could he?

Nevertheless, you found yourself relishing in the comfort that his kiss brought you. "You will be alright, my love. You can get through this, I'm so proud of you," Thorin muttered against your forehead.

And so, in the midst of the battle, Thorin sat by you and muttered words of comfort and reassurance. You were sweating all over, and in immense pain. Most of the dwarves had excused themselves apart from Thorin, Fili and Oin. You felt rather uncomfortable with Oin there, but as he was more experienced in all things medical than any of the others, it was necessary.

You let out another wail and pulled with both hands on your hair, hoping to distract yourself from the pain. Thorin's warm hand clasped around your wrists and pulled them from your scalp. His face hovered over yours and his eyes looked equally as pained as yours. When the baby was finally out, he handed it to you will the biggest grin ever on his face.

"It's a girl," he whispered fondly, caressing your cheek. You had paled considerably during the birth, but you now felt warmth returned to your face as you nuzzled your cheek into Thorin's palm. You glanced down at your baby girl, mixed emotions running through you.

"She's beautiful," you noted happily, thinking of the bright future that you now had with your husband and your daughter. If only the battle would end.

Thorin wrapped his large, calloused hand around your daughter's miniature one, "She takes after her mother," he told you, looking  into your eyes affectionately. You were about to speak when you heard the battle begin to quiet down. Thorin quickly ran over to the gate and peered over it. He turned back to look at the company, panicked.

"To the gate!" he yelled in Khuzdul. The dwarves complied, and before he left, Thorin crouched down by you, picking his sword up from the floor. "My love, I must go. But let me tell you this, if I do not return from this battle, please don't go into mourns. Allow yourself time to grieve and to heal, and then find yourself a new man. My love for you is eternal and reaches the stars. Light of my life, I am so proud of you."

Those were his last words before departing. He left after giving you a rough passionate kiss, and softly pecking his daughter's forehead. As soon as he had left, your daughter began wailing.

You scampered over to Oin's bags and searched through them for his medical kit. "Aha!" you yelled triumphantly, holding the kit up in the air as if it was a trophy. Getting back up, you sauntered over to where Thorin sat in just his under shirt and a pair of leggings. He touched a hand to the bleeding wound on his forehead and winced. You knew where to start. Fumbling through your bag, you found a flannel and a pouch full of water.

Slightly dampening the cloth, you touched it to his cut and wiped away the dirt and dried blood. It had stopped bleeding a few hours ago, when he had woken up, but it was still open and sore. "Sorry," you muttered when he groaned in pain.

"It is fine, Y/N, do what you must," he waved it off. You tended to the rest of his facial and neck rooms until you got to a wound that poking out of the collar of his shirt.

You bit your lip and looked up at him through your lashes, "Um, I need you to . . . um . . . your shirt . . . ," you said nervously. Thorin had a smug grin on his face as he pulled up the bottom of his shirt. You caught a momentary glimpse of his strong v-line where his trousers hung low. You looked away immediately, blushing madly.

Thorin groaned in pain as a wound on his back was stretched when he tried to pull off his shirt. "I can't do it myself, Y/N. I need you to do it," you were certain he was teasing you know, enjoying watching you struggle. You sighed heavily and then gripped the bottom of his shirt. Awkwardly, you danced around his body attempting to pull the thin fabric from his sculpted body. When it was finally off, you saw Thorin shiver from the cold.

The first thing you saw when you looked at his chest, the most prominent thing, was a large and painful looking gash from Azog's mace. "Ouch," you gasped, and Thorin nodded in agreement, muscles flexing. It was then your gaze travelled to his well-defined six pack. You had to stop yourself from drooling at the sight.

Thorin smirked once more, his eyes twinkling with amusement and the skin around creasing. He knew exactly how he made you feel and wasn't afraid to show it. "Am I making you feel nervous, Y/N?" he asked sneakily, wincing when you pressed the cold cloth to his skin.

"I don't know what you mean," you denied, quickly pulling your hand back when your finger brushed across his skin.

"I beg to differ, Y/N," Thorin sniggered.

"How would you like for me to leave your wounds to become infected?" you asked, tilting your head innocently at him. 

"I'm your King, you will do as I say. And if I say clean my wounds, what do you do?" he asked smugly.

"Hit you round the head?" you offered confidently, doing some weird hug on him as you attempted to wrap a bandage around his torso. Suddenly, Thorin placed his large hands on your back, keeping you pressed to his chest.

"Don't tell me this doesn't make your heart flutter, Y/N," Thorin teased. You could practically hear him grinning.

"I need to finish my job, my Lord," you whispered quietly, shutting your eyes and willing your bright red cheeks to return to their original peachy state. He let go of you, grunting in disapproval. When you finished, you quickly scurried back to Oin's bag to return his kit.