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b2memB2MeM Prompt, Card and Number: Horror B11 - Body Horror, Horror I24 - Human Sacrifice, Botany I20 - Brambles, NSFW & Kink I29 - Loyalty Kink
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Femslash
Rating: M
Warnings: Body horror, talk of human sacrifice
Characters: Tauriel, OFC
Pairings: Tauriel/OFC
Creator's Notes: 'Tauriel's parents were eaten by spiders' okay sure but what if they were fed to the spiders instead.
Summary: Nothing leaves Mirkwood. The guards make sure of it.
Also on AO3
With the darkening of the world comes a sense of safety unlike anything Tauriel has ever known. She has never felt the need to venture far from the trees, not since she gifted her parents to them, but now the rest of the guard follows her lead.
Now, they understand why they need to stay close.
The blackberry thicket along the woodland floor is laden with heavy purple fruits, their heady scent suffocating all of Tauriel's senses as she hooks her knees over the lowest branch of her favourite beech tree and sways gently back and forth, letting her hair brush restlessly over the ground. She trails a hand through the leaves, lets the thorns catch on her fingertips.
Dungalad is late.
Even as the thought crosses her mind, the brambles part with a sigh of protest, and Tauriel cranes her neck enough to see her captain's boots making their way across the ground, light and soundless. With her seems to come the dark, the edges of the clearing drawing closer in with only the briefest fluttering of spiderwebs to mark their passage.
Tauriel stays upside-down, the hollow pulse of her blood louder in her ears than it has any right to be.
"I thought you'd be here." Dungalad's voice cuts through the rush easily, her own blood silent at the tip of her tongue. "You missed the end of the hunt."
Tauriel pulls herself upright before her body can swing fully towards Dungalad, dodging her captain's hand as it grasps for her hair. "I was there for the part that mattered," she says. Her voice echoes oddly, and even though her head is swimming with blackberries and blood, she does not need to see clearly to know that the clearing has locked them in. "I wanted to see you alone. Your spiders always make a mess."
"You've made worse." Dungalad climbs swifter than Tauriel can blink, and the branch, though thick, bows with the unexpected additional weight. Tauriel grins, trapped between the warmth of her body and the cool roughness of the tree trunk. "When you peel back their skin and break their bones, an arrow through a scarce-open mouth from ten bridges away..."
She trails off, lips barely brushing the corner of Tauriel's mouth as her balance shifts precariously. Tauriel bites her own lips against a whimper, but she can't resist bringing a hand up to tangle in Dungalad's hair, heedless of the mess her bramble-pricked fingers leave behind. "I do only what the greenwood demands," she murmurs with a wicked grin. "Only what my captain commands."
They're one and the same, these days. "If I command you to show me your hands?"
Tauriel tugs her hair sharply, but complies. The thorns have solidified in her fingertips, blood cold where plants meet skin. "Always."
Dungalad runs sharp nails across the lines of Tauriel's palm, and the skin splits easily in her path. Tauriel shivers, sighs, lets herself relax into the pleasure as the cold air bites into her exposed wound. "Empty," Dungalad says, disappointment clear.
"You weren't that late," Tauriel points out, but the disapproval still stings. "Give me more time, and we can hunt together. No one will leave the woods today."
"Good." Dungalad's arms wrap tight around her waist, and before Tauriel can do more than smile, they're falling, far further than it seems they should. She spreads her arms, unsure exactly what she's hoping for, and the brambles pin her hands to the earth as they both hit the ground. With her eyes still shut, every texture is heightened: the prickling of leaves and thorns in her skin, the slick burst of flattened berries under her head, the rough cloth of her tunic over her sensitive nipples, the damp heat of Dungalad's breath against her lips and the heavy weight of her body pressing against Tauriel's.
Tauriel breathes as deep as she can, waits for a kiss that doesn't come. Every part of her wants to lean up as far as she can and claim it for herself, but she knows better. For her captain, and only for her captain, she will wait.
"Good," Dungalad whispers, when she's sure Tauriel won't move. The vines are curling up her arms and down her legs, binding her spread for her Dungalad's pleasure. "Good girl. Now. Tell me, which of our traitor brethren are we hunting next?"
Tauriel thinks of the dead and buried, those the guard has ensure will never leave and those who think there is still a way out. "Whoever you wish," Tauriel says, and doesn't need to see to know that Dungalad is smiling.
"You know that's why I chose you, don't you?" she asks, fingers deft at the laces of Tauriel's breeches. "My most loyal lieutenant. Most eager."
Tauriel moans at the praise, at the smooth cold brush of Dungalad's fingers against her overheated cunt. She's wanted this since she stole away from the end of the hunt, and waiting has only intensified her desire.
Dungalad, though, is content to do no more than tease, and, rough though the bondage of the vines is, Tauriel is helpless to do more than feel the throb of her pulse in her pierced hands and yearn for Dungalad's fingers inside her as well. She is too proud to beg, even if she thought it would do her any good.
Tauriel opens her eyes as she feels Dungalad's weight shift on top of her. The pale brown fall of her captain's hair blurs stands out stark against the blurred tree trunks that won't come forward, no matter how Tauriel blinks. Dungalad sits back, fingers teasing roughly through Tauriel's curls, against her lips.
"Tell me how, then," she says. "Tell me how the next ones die, Tauriel, and I will give you what you've been waiting for."
Tauriel licks her lips, tasting blackberries and blood, and begins to speak.
Format: Ficlet
Genre: Femslash
Rating: M
Warnings: Body horror, talk of human sacrifice
Characters: Tauriel, OFC
Pairings: Tauriel/OFC
Creator's Notes: 'Tauriel's parents were eaten by spiders' okay sure but what if they were fed to the spiders instead.
Summary: Nothing leaves Mirkwood. The guards make sure of it.
Also on AO3
With the darkening of the world comes a sense of safety unlike anything Tauriel has ever known. She has never felt the need to venture far from the trees, not since she gifted her parents to them, but now the rest of the guard follows her lead.
Now, they understand why they need to stay close.
The blackberry thicket along the woodland floor is laden with heavy purple fruits, their heady scent suffocating all of Tauriel's senses as she hooks her knees over the lowest branch of her favourite beech tree and sways gently back and forth, letting her hair brush restlessly over the ground. She trails a hand through the leaves, lets the thorns catch on her fingertips.
Dungalad is late.
Even as the thought crosses her mind, the brambles part with a sigh of protest, and Tauriel cranes her neck enough to see her captain's boots making their way across the ground, light and soundless. With her seems to come the dark, the edges of the clearing drawing closer in with only the briefest fluttering of spiderwebs to mark their passage.
Tauriel stays upside-down, the hollow pulse of her blood louder in her ears than it has any right to be.
"I thought you'd be here." Dungalad's voice cuts through the rush easily, her own blood silent at the tip of her tongue. "You missed the end of the hunt."
Tauriel pulls herself upright before her body can swing fully towards Dungalad, dodging her captain's hand as it grasps for her hair. "I was there for the part that mattered," she says. Her voice echoes oddly, and even though her head is swimming with blackberries and blood, she does not need to see clearly to know that the clearing has locked them in. "I wanted to see you alone. Your spiders always make a mess."
"You've made worse." Dungalad climbs swifter than Tauriel can blink, and the branch, though thick, bows with the unexpected additional weight. Tauriel grins, trapped between the warmth of her body and the cool roughness of the tree trunk. "When you peel back their skin and break their bones, an arrow through a scarce-open mouth from ten bridges away..."
She trails off, lips barely brushing the corner of Tauriel's mouth as her balance shifts precariously. Tauriel bites her own lips against a whimper, but she can't resist bringing a hand up to tangle in Dungalad's hair, heedless of the mess her bramble-pricked fingers leave behind. "I do only what the greenwood demands," she murmurs with a wicked grin. "Only what my captain commands."
They're one and the same, these days. "If I command you to show me your hands?"
Tauriel tugs her hair sharply, but complies. The thorns have solidified in her fingertips, blood cold where plants meet skin. "Always."
Dungalad runs sharp nails across the lines of Tauriel's palm, and the skin splits easily in her path. Tauriel shivers, sighs, lets herself relax into the pleasure as the cold air bites into her exposed wound. "Empty," Dungalad says, disappointment clear.
"You weren't that late," Tauriel points out, but the disapproval still stings. "Give me more time, and we can hunt together. No one will leave the woods today."
"Good." Dungalad's arms wrap tight around her waist, and before Tauriel can do more than smile, they're falling, far further than it seems they should. She spreads her arms, unsure exactly what she's hoping for, and the brambles pin her hands to the earth as they both hit the ground. With her eyes still shut, every texture is heightened: the prickling of leaves and thorns in her skin, the slick burst of flattened berries under her head, the rough cloth of her tunic over her sensitive nipples, the damp heat of Dungalad's breath against her lips and the heavy weight of her body pressing against Tauriel's.
Tauriel breathes as deep as she can, waits for a kiss that doesn't come. Every part of her wants to lean up as far as she can and claim it for herself, but she knows better. For her captain, and only for her captain, she will wait.
"Good," Dungalad whispers, when she's sure Tauriel won't move. The vines are curling up her arms and down her legs, binding her spread for her Dungalad's pleasure. "Good girl. Now. Tell me, which of our traitor brethren are we hunting next?"
Tauriel thinks of the dead and buried, those the guard has ensure will never leave and those who think there is still a way out. "Whoever you wish," Tauriel says, and doesn't need to see to know that Dungalad is smiling.
"You know that's why I chose you, don't you?" she asks, fingers deft at the laces of Tauriel's breeches. "My most loyal lieutenant. Most eager."
Tauriel moans at the praise, at the smooth cold brush of Dungalad's fingers against her overheated cunt. She's wanted this since she stole away from the end of the hunt, and waiting has only intensified her desire.
Dungalad, though, is content to do no more than tease, and, rough though the bondage of the vines is, Tauriel is helpless to do more than feel the throb of her pulse in her pierced hands and yearn for Dungalad's fingers inside her as well. She is too proud to beg, even if she thought it would do her any good.
Tauriel opens her eyes as she feels Dungalad's weight shift on top of her. The pale brown fall of her captain's hair blurs stands out stark against the blurred tree trunks that won't come forward, no matter how Tauriel blinks. Dungalad sits back, fingers teasing roughly through Tauriel's curls, against her lips.
"Tell me how, then," she says. "Tell me how the next ones die, Tauriel, and I will give you what you've been waiting for."
Tauriel licks her lips, tasting blackberries and blood, and begins to speak.
