. . . Fine, then. Go back to him. —Oh no. Jealous, Bard is JEALOUS.—

Go, then. I'm taking my things. —He was fuming. Fun time was OVER. God, he shouldn't have Elrond this much.—

It is a nice smell, although I prefer your own. Mmm... Nothing sweeter than that, if I must say so. —He kept giving his king the affection he wanted, pecking his lips with the softest gestures. Showering him with all the love his small frame held was his favourite thing.—

Swallow his, then. —Growling, Bard closes one of his books that laid on the king's desk with a harsh gesture, getting his bag to fill it with his stuff. He was MAD now.—

THWOMP

Don't /touch/ me, Thranduil. —The man hissed, knowing he had little power to topple the king over... Besides, he wouldn't be able to harm him. But he was angry, and it showed. Jealousy, losing another lover, was one fear of his.— You wanted me to get out of Mirkwood. You won

//—Writer whispers— Monster cock.

As intense as the light of a thousand suns, as sweet as a million of those berry tarts your cooks make, and as tangy as a lemon squeeze. A perfect mix, if you ask me. —And, of course, the cheesy man had to give Thranduil the softest, most gentle skimo kiss.—

You don't, but that's why I'm telling you. —Thranduil's eyes shone on Bard's smile, one that could easily split his face in two. Moments like this were rare between the two rulers, and the man wanted nothing but to squeeze out as much as he could from this.— Gi melin.

//I love dogs but goddamn they can give you such scares... Jesus christ

Afternoon, townspeople.

— Them priorities.

Here's my... What is it that my children call this...? AH! Yes. Man crush monday. Look at that hair. Aye, ᵀᴴᴱ 𝖂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 . is my #ManCrushMonday, even if he isn't a /man/.