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danikamariewrites · 8 months

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Heyy back with another ask bestie🤭 ok so how about a cadre g**g b**g where they are in a war camp with reader and lorcan comes up in there bickering with her which gets the attention of the other cadre and row row comes in like “ik what would shut her up”😈 (they are yummier than the bat boys i stand by that😤)

Cadre (SMUT)

Lorcan x Rowan x Fenrys x Gavriel x f!reader

A/n: hey bestie! I also may favor the cadre over the bat boys at times lol. This concept has me feral so I hope you enjoy this. I left out Connall and Vaughan bc they were so left out of the books so I don’t know their character at all.

Warnings: fivesum, praise kink, degradation, name calling, and some light choking

You pushed back the canvas of the tent, Lorcan on your heels, fuming that you once again didn’t listen. “You’ve got a serious issue, you know that?” You turned, smirking at him. “Lorcan, if I listened to you we’d be dead right now.” Steam practically came out of his ears at your tone.

Before he could start screaming you both spotted Gavriel and Fenrys watching you from their seats at the war table. Fenrys was wearing a feral smirk, nothing brought him joy like watching you and Lorcan spar with your words. Gavriel kept a neutral face. As he assessed the situation and was working through how to intervene should it get physical.

Opening your mouth to say something that would send Lorcan over the edge, Rowan came up behind you. He pressed his sculpted chest into your back. Rowan held your chin in his strong hand, tilting your head back to look up at him.

His long white hair creating a curtain so it felt like it was just you and him having in the room. You flashed him a sweet smile, “Hi Rowan.” You and Rowan had been having a casual fling for some time now. Sex with no strings attached, but whenever he was around it was like you were instantly relaxed.

Rowan smirked back at you, “Hello sweetness. Are you giving Lorcan attitude again?” You feign innocence, “Me? Never.” Rowan lets a hum that let you know he saw right through your bullshit. He looks to Lorcan, keeping your head tilted against his chest, “I think I know how to make her behave. Just need some sense fucked into you huh sweetness.”

Your eyes go wide at Rowan’s boldness in front of the Cadre. He liked to keep things private between you, but you could sense something was different. You decided to play along, just to see what Rowan was scheming. You arched your back, grinding your ass into Rowan’s crotch, letting a small moan past your lips. “Yes sir.”

You could scent the arousal coming from the other Fae males in the tent. Mixing together it was overwhelming you. You didn’t know Rowan had an exhibition kink and if he was going to fuck you as the three of them watched you weren’t one to complain. You could feel your slick almost dripping down your thighs at the thought.

Rowan leans down placing wet, open mouth kisses all over your neck. “Now,” he said against your neck, “since Lorcan told us about the danger you put us all in, we’re all going to teach you a lesson. You gonna be a good girl for us?” Your heart was pounding in your ears. You had dreamed of each of these big strong males manhandling you, but all at once? You were going to pass out.

You hadn’t noticed Fenrys and Gavriel join your little circle until you felt Gavriel caress your cheek. Your attention snapped to him. “He asked you a question y/n.” Your mouth was suddenly dry. Your mind was empty as you wracked your brain for words that wouldn’t show up. Fenrys’ deep laugh had your eyes on him next. “Seems like the thought of having all of us has already caused her pretty little head to go dumb. That right baby?” You nod letting out a soft uh-huh.

“Good girl,” Lorcan purred. Rowan picks you up and brings you over to the large bed, the rest of the cadre follow. Putting you down, Rowan starts taking your leathers off, leaving you bare. He strips and slips behind you, wrapping you in his arms, leaving kisses on your jaw, neck, and shoulders. The others strip and watch you and Rowan with intense stares.

Rowan nips at your pointed ear. “The one treat you get tonight is picking who goes first, baby. Who’s it going to be?” You look at Lorcan, Gavriel, and Fenrys, meeting their hungry gazes with your own. You let out a hum as you think. “Lorcan,” you say in a seductive tone, a smirk playing on your lips.

Lorcan growls as he grabs you from Rowan. You wrap your arms around his neck, meeting his lips in a heated kiss. Your teeth and tongues clash as Lorcan fights for dominance as you push into him. You let him win as he pushes you down on the bed, pinning your shoulders.

He slowly moves down your body. Making sure to nip and kiss and lick every sensitive part of you. You shudder under his touch getting lost in the euphoric feeling of Lorcan dominating you. You caress his broad shoulders. Lorcan was quick to grab your wrists and pin them with one hand.

“Uh-uh baby. The only teary you got was picking me. You don’t get to touch.” He growls. Lorcan let’s a bit of his dark magic to wrap around your wrists, tying them to the bed. You whine as you try to move but the dark shadow like tendrils don’t give. Lorcan let’s out a dark laugh.

He moves to dig his fingers into your hips so hard your sure bruises are already forming. Lorcan drags his canines down one of your breasts, his tongue circling your hardened nipple. He looks at you through dark lashes wrapping his mouth around you and sucking hard. A high pitched moan leaves your mouth. You push your chest into his face. He lets go with a pop leaving a kiss to the top of your breast, a purple bruise forming near your nipple.

Lorcan keeps kissing and dragging his teeth down your torso while still keeping you in a death grip. He leaves teasing kisses on your clit and one tiny little lick. You buck your hips as best you can trying to move closer to his mouth. He tuts at your movements and runs a thick, long finger through your soaking folds.

“Fuck baby, so wet. That all for us?” You nod, looking at him through half lidded eyes. Lorcan lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you with the head of his thick, long cock. “You’re gunna be a good girl and take what I give you.” He grunts as he pushes into your tight cunt. You moan in unison at the feeling of him sinking inside you down to his base.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe he was so deep inside you. Lorcan gave you a second to adjust before he started thrusting into you at brutal pace. His thickness felt so good rubbing against your walls. You could do nothing but writhe beneath him. He was fucking you so good that you just went limp as you felt your orgasm approach.

Your moans got louder and louder as Lorcan pushed down on the bulge of him in your stomach. Your walls twitched around him. “Fuck-Lorcan feels so good.” “Yeah baby. You gunna come for me? Gunna come all over my cock?” You let out a pathetic whine in response. “Are you going to listen from now on? Be an obedient little slut?” You nod your head rapidly chanting yes and his name over and over.

With a few more thrusts your back is arching off the bed, your eyes screw shut as your vision goes fuzzy from the intensity of your orgasm. Your left breathless as he finishes inside you and immediately pulls out of you.

Giving you no time to recover Lorcan pulls you up by the shoulders, pulling his magic away from you. Fuck, you’re so out of it you barley feel his hand wrap around your throat. He pulls you to his chest and his lips meet your in another intense kiss. “If only I could have you all night. You’d never have a bratty attitude.”

Before you could respond Fenrys was pulling you from Lorcan’s grip. “Now Lorcan, be nice. Look at her,” Fenrys pulls you onto his lap, snaking his arms around you and rubbing soft circles into your skin with his calloused thumbs. He softly kisses your temple and you relax into him.

“She was so good for you. Don’t you think she deserves a reward?” Lorcan rolls his eyes as he adjusts his position at the foot of the bed. Fenrys gently lays you down and your eyes flutter shut. He smoothes your hair. Your eyes flutter open and wrap your arms around his neck, lazily playing with the strands of his long golden hair.

“You can hold on to me. You’re going to need to baby.” Fenrys kisses down your neck but quickly picks up the pace. Your energy comes back, spurred on by Fenrys’ eagerness to be tracing your curves for the first time. Fenrys wastes no time with you. You tug harder at those perfect curls as he slips into your already stretched out cunt.

Still sensitive from the fucking Lorcan gave you, you knew you wouldn’t last long with Fenrys. His thrusts were long and deep. Exploratory and full of curiosity. You held onto each other as his pace increased, your legs wrapping around his waist. Heels pushing into his back.

Without warning, your walls spasm around Fenrys and come. He keeps going, as he chases his own high. He looks down where you connect and he moans. Your release mixed with Lorcan’s is leaking from your hole. “Shit baby, look at you. Such a mess for us. You feel so good. I never wanna leave this pussy. So warm and full.” You bury your face into his neck and moan, his scent wrapping around you.

“Fuck, you can take another can’t you? You want my come don’t you baby?” “Yes Fenrys! Fuck, please, please, please!” Two more thrusts and his release paints your walls. You once again go limp as Fenrys collapses on top of you. Both of you panting. “So good.” He whispered into your chest.

Gavriel pulls Fenrys off you and rolls him to lay on his back next to Lorcan. Rowan is lifting you again. He turns you to look at him. You settle on your knees, steadying yourself by laying your hands on his chest. “Think you’ve learned your lesson sweets?” Gavriel kneels behind you, his chest pressing into your back.

By the grace of some god you still have the strength to look Rowan in the eyes and give him a smirk that says “not a chance”. He sighs. Looking to Gavriel, Rowan motions with his chin. Rowan move back to lay against the pillows at the headboard, spreading his legs and stroking his cock.

Gavriel moves you both back down the bed a bit then he pushes you to bend at the waist, elbows resting on the bed. Rowan fists your hair “Lets use that mouth for something other than talking back, hmm.” Rowan hummed. He pulls you down to swallow his cock. Making your head bob. Using your hands to cover what you couldn’t take in your mouth you set an acceptable pace for Rowan. “That’s it, just like that. See you can be a good girl. Just needed to give that mouth something to do.”

As you kept sucking Rowan off you felt Gavriel lightly running his fingers over your ass. He moves down to your pussy, sinking two fingers in. He curls and pumps them a few times before pulling out. Gavriel brings his fingers to his lips and licks them clean, moaning at the taste of you mixed with Lorcan and Fenrys.

“Such a filthy slut. But like Lorcan said, just for us to play with.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. As he leaned forward you felt his hard cock poke your thigh, your eyes rolling back at the thought of taking him and Rowan at the same time. Gavriel places soft kisses down your spine, so different from the way he was just talking about you.

He kisses down to your ass and finally lines himself up with you. He slowly sinks into you, letting you adjust to him inch by inch. Not like you need to after having Lorcan and Fenrys absolutely abuse you. But Gods above he feels good. But he’s taking too long.

When Gavriel finally starts to move you hum around Rowan causing him to his, his hands flying to grip your hair again. Gavriel fucks you it’s like no male has ever fucked you before. He’s taking the time to learn every inch of you inside and out. What parts of you are extra sensitive right now. You don’t know if you can go back to just having Rowan after Gavriel. The others were good, but holy shit. Gavriel was great.

You felt his fingers on your clit, rubbing it in small circles. As the pace of his thrusts picked up so did his fingers. You started to choke on Rowan’s cock and he was once again tightly grabbing your hair, controlling your movements.

You’d never admit this to any of them but this felt good. Not being in control. Being pleasured and used by them. You were in heaven right now. You felt your third orgasm on the night creeping up on you. That knot in your stomach tightening. Your eyes rolling. Your moans muffled and squeaky.

With a pinch to your clit and a few more perfectly angled thrusts from Gavriel you come undone one last time. His own orgasm following immediately after. You heard him swear above you as he pulled out of you. He kept your legs spread watching the mess between your legs drip down your thighs and onto the sheets.

Rowan pulled you off of him, finishing in his hand so you could catch your breath. As soon as he let go of your hair you collapsed on the bed, breathing deeply. You felt the four of them staring at you. It felt tense for some reason. You slowly flipped onto your back, stretching as best you could.

You let out a small hum, “Holy shit.” Fenrys let out a laugh. Rowan and Gavriel were pulling you up the bed, tucking you between them. Now that your punishment was over all they wanted to do was take care of you.

“You ok sweets?” An mmhhmm sounds from you followed by a yawn. You turn snuggling into Gavriel’s chest. He wraps an arm around you. Rowan gets up searching for a cloth or spare shirt to clean you up with. When he returns and spreads your legs you whine. Rowan quickly shushes you rubbing your thigh. “I’m just cleaning you up sweets.” He whispers.

You relax letting him wipe between your thighs. “There you go. All done.” He kisses your forehead and slips next to you again. Lorcan and Fenrys head off to their own beds after seeing you content in Rowan and Gavriel’s arms.

“Goodnight y/n,” Gavriel whispers. A cold wind rushes through the tent. Turning out all the lanterns and cooling your heated skin. You were glad it was Gavriel and Rowan holding you. You drifted off thinking what it would be like to be with them for eternity.

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throneofsapphics · 5 months

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old faces, part four

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death and injuries

Word Count: ~6.4k

A/N: sorry this took longer than expected! I appreciate all of your support so much <3

series masterlist

There had been a few … discussions over who would greet them. Eventually, they decided Rowan and Aelin would meet them first - and the rest of the court the next day at breakfast. Evangeline made the most logical argument - that they would completely overwhelm them. Lorcan added they were stuck with Fenrys’s company for weeks and might already be approaching their limit.

Rowan had a feeling you and Fenrys got along just fine, you certainly seemed to be back in Antica. An uncomfortable but familiar emotion surged in him. Jealousy? Jealousy that Fenrys got to spend that much time with his daughter, not that he spent that time with you, he convinced himself.

The carriage rolled up, the doors swung open. Fenrys first, followed by Reya, you, Ani, and finally Ceri. Who hid behind you again, just like the first time they’d met. Rowan tried not to frown, he knew it would take time for her to warm up.

“You can say hello, if you’d like,” you murmured quietly, hair falling so it shielded half of your face. Were you shy all of the sudden? Ceri took another step forward, stopping a few feet in front of you. She looked back at you, you sent an encouraging nod her way. She paused, shifted her body to the side, and grabbed Ani’s hand - dragging her friend with her.

Rowan’s mouth curved in amusement as they both paused in front of them. Then, he realized he had no fucking idea what to do.

Aelin crouched down, arms opened, and the two looked at each other - some kind of silent communication passing through, before they both launched themselves at his Queen. Her laughter echoed through the courtyard, arms wrapping around the two of them.

Rowan watched them for a moment, Aelin asking them about their trip - the two of them chattering about this and that, about a new card game, something about ‘self-defense’ lessons, etc.

But, you were quiet, and Fenrys … Fenrys looked like he was about to deliver bad news. You’d turned slightly away from him, hair shielding half of your face and your focus on Aelin and the girls was pointed. Avoiding looking at him.

“You’re early,” Rowan finally said as Aelin rose.

“It’s because of the bad man,” Ani said - before Ceri could shush her.

Bad man. Bad man. Bad man.

Rowan saw red, crouching to look over Ceri - no injuries, scars, bruises, anything to show something’s amiss. His daughter leaned towards him, cupping her hands around her mouth. “It’s mum that was hurt,” she whispered pointed towards you, in what she probably thought was a discreet way, “not me, but he’s dead now and it healed.”

“Thank you,” Rowan forced a smile onto his face, clamped down harshly on his anger.

“I think we have things to talk about,” Aelin said, voice calm and steady.

“We do.” Fenrys said, you nodding in agreement.

“I know the perfect guide for you,” Aelin smiled warmly at the two girls, and Reya. It was obvious this conversation needed to be between the four of them, and Reya seemed relieved to be excluded. Aelin led them back, stopping just before the entrance hall before disappearing.

Minutes later, she returned - Evangeline in tow. Aelin murmured a few instructions to her, referencing the specific wing and rooms for your group, and they took off.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?” Rowan directed at Fenrys.

You cut in, “it didn’t involve him.” Your cheeks flushed as you found yourself the center of attention - but you kept going. “We went to the park, on our way back I noticed something off - shoved the three of them behind the wards, and kept the attacker away long enough for an archer to shoot him. A mortal magic wielder.”

Kept them at bay. Against a mortal, you should’ve been able to kill them within the first minute. “You were trying to get answers from him.” Rowan observed, not asked, but you confirmed that with a nod. Fenrys laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, and from the corner of his vision, he saw Aelin’s eyes narrow.

“The archer killed him before I could.”

As a nervous habit, one hand brushed your hair away, tucking it behind your ear - you froze, palm over your cheek, white rings around your eyes.

“They’ll see it eventually,” Fenrys said quietly, squeezing your shoulder.

Aelin was bristling next to him, and he wasn’t much better. See what?

Slowly, so gods-damned slowly, your hand lowered down to your side. A nasty looking scar sliced across your cheek. It looked painful, and for it to scar like that …

“The cut wasn’t bad, but the blade was iron and enchanted. Not a curse, just to leave a mark,” you tugged your bottom teeth between your lips, debating your next words. “I think it’s obvious, the knife wasn’t meant for me. We left the next night.”

“If there’s any updates, they’ll send word.” Fenrys added.

“How did it happen?” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice and words steady. Someone tried to kill his daughter. Aelin’s warm hand against his shoulder kept him anchored, kept him steady. Tried to kill you, his … the mother of his child didn’t feel right. A friend, he settled on for now. Tried to kill his friend, and succeeded in injuring her.

As you explained the story, his temper flared. He wanted to ask how you could be so stupid, how you could put the two … four of you at danger like that, but Fenrys was glaring at him and he held his tongue.

“You’ll need to see a healer and get that checked,” was all he could manage.

“We,” Aelin emphasized, squeezing his shoulder, “are glad you both are safe.”

“Thank you,” the words were soft before your eyes narrowed, a subtle bite edging into your tone, “I don’t need a healer, it’s fine.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.”

“For fucks sake,” Fenrys muttered, “I’ll take you to the healers, let them poke a bit, and it’ll shut him up.” Rowan’s eyes promised vengeance, and Fenrys ignored him. You were biting back a laugh, which he supposed was a good thing, considering the news you’d just dropped.

“We’ll go tomorrow,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into your side. The way you looked at him - completely friendly and platonic, but an ugly feeling surged in his stomach. They should be the friends that were there for you. “Unless your majesty and highness have an objection,” the male challenged him.

“No objections,” Aelin glanced down at her nails - a tactic she uses to divert frustration, “but we’ll be meeting the rest of our court for a late breakfast,” she looked up at you, a wicked amusement gleaming in those eyes, “I imagine it will be interesting.”

“Should I be nervous?” your tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip, Aelin’s watched the movement, but she caught herself and met your eyes instead. Rowan noted that little moment, something to think on later.

“I think you’ll be nervous no matter what I say.”

A huff, but you agreed, and Fenrys carted you off towards your rooms. He knew exactly what you’d be seeing - a suite, complete with a bathing room, bedroom, sitting area, and breakfast table, connected to a small hall - two bedrooms with private baths on either side, perfect for Ceri and Ani, and straight across the hall was Reya’s suite, identical to yours.

Aelin took the time to hunt through the castle for the perfect set of rooms for the three of you, and decided on these.

The two girls couldn’t leave without having to go through one of your rooms, and they’d made sure the hinges on the doors all squeaked loudly. Rowan was proud of how much thought they’d put into it, and part of him hoped you would be too.

He shouldn’t care that much about your opinion or approval. You shouldn’t be taking up this much of his mind, shouldn’t be echoing in his thoughts like this.

Rowan and Aelin had thought of everything, down to the extra loud doors, the twin desks stocked with paper and various colored pencils and paints, the snacks in the small cabinets, the layout of the rooms … you’d walked in to Reya and Evangeline, a teenage woman maybe seven or eight years older than your daughter, you guessed. But … she was already sitting next to them, another piece of paper out to draw, making encouraging comments to each of them.

“They’re getting along well,” Reya leaned back on the loveseat, a glass of wine already in hand. “I was kicked out of the drawing circle.”

“You don’t look too upset over it,” you took your cloak off, carefully slinging it over the back of a chair.

The trunks were stacked against an opposite wall, backpacks balanced on top of them.

“I told them not to put anything away,” Reya followed your gaze, “I figured you’d want to do it yourself. I know I do.”

“Thank you,” you collapsed into the couch next to her. Putting things away felt a bit … permanent. Would you? They’d promised you could explore different parts of Terrasen, but had never given you a timeline.

Couch cushions rustled, glass clanked, and a hefty serving of wine was pushed into your hand. For the first time since you’d seen Rowan again, you let yourself relax.

Aelin watched as Rowan paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, wearing down the carpet. She liked that carpet. His fists clenched, on and off. It had been ten minutes of letting him stew in silence, and she was done with it.

“They’re safe,” she emphasized, “and here, with us.” Evangeline had reported back that they all seemed in good spirits, and the two girls were heading to bed as she left.

“She has a scar,” he ran one hand through his hair, his eyes meeting hers; and it’s my fault.

“We all have scars,” Aelin tried to keep her voice gentle, “and it takes two to make a baby.”

He pinned her with a look that said; that’s not the point. Aelin scented Fenrys, and seconds later she heard a knock on the door. Holding her hand up to Rowan, him freezing in place, she opened it herself, mouthing over her shoulder; be nice.

He shut the door behind him, and leaned back against it, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Go on, ask your questions.”

“What did you see?” Aelin spilled the words out before Rowan could.

“Not much,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest. “She was trying to subdue him - as you know, the archer across the street killed him instead. There was an enchanted blade - iron, with some marks carved into the handle. She destroyed it.”

“Was he one of the men watching?” One of the lurkers that hung around her house for several days.

Surprisingly, Fenrys shook his head.

“We don’t know anything else,” his onyx eyes shifted from her, over to Rowan, “dead men can’t talk,” he deadpanned.

Gods, the last thing she needs is the two of them getting into it tonight. Fenrys made a quick exit, promising he’d bring you by the healers before breakfast. Then, he and Evangeline would bring you down to meet everyone.

Rowan, however, was still tearing a hole in the fucking carpet, and she tried a different tactic. “What would y/n say, if she saw you like this?”

He paused, slowly turning his head to meet her; like he was looking for some kind of trick or trap. There was none, she was just trying to get his head out of his ass. Not seeing one, he finally answered, “I don’t know anymore.”

The healers weren’t concerned, didn’t sense any kind of malignant magic or poison, and only confirmed what she already knew; a blade designed to leave a scar, and that’s it. She was still seething at Rowan’s ‘not a suggestion.’ Overprotective Fae bullshit. He had no claim to her, no need to protect her. The little nasty voice in the back of her mind told her it’s only because she’s the mother of his child, just as he was the father of hers. Co-parents, that would be the extent of their ‘relationship,’ anything else might complicate things - and she doesn’t want to give anyone a reason to think she might end up as a homewrecker.

Reya linked one arm through hers, your daughters ahead of you - each holding on to one of Evangeline’s hands, periodically looking over their shoulders to make sure the two of you were still present. Not that you could go anywhere, trapped between Fenrys and Reya.

Steadying your breathing, you followed through the oak doors into an informal, thank the gods, dining room. Large windows showed a beautiful view of the city, the table already stacked with food, and what must be the rest of her court.

Ceri had retreated, half hiding behind you now, Ani doing the same to your right.

“It’s alright,” you kept your voice low, “they’re the new friends Fenrys told you about.”

“All horrible things, I’m sure,” the female with an ever changing scent. A shifter. Lady Lysandra.

Fenrys made an exaggerated ‘shh’ noise, drawing a giggle from Ceri, who stepped out from behind you. Evangeline swooped in to take over introductions for the girls, everything happened almost in a blur around you as you shook hands - told preemptively not to bow or curtsey, and ended up seated at the table.

You watched as your daughter shedded her shy skin, quickly chattering about anything and everything, answering every question shot her away, returning with one of her own.

Aedion was studying you carefully, and you felt almost like you were put on display. Some kind of relic from the past, dragged up to Terrasen, and you couldn’t tell if your presence was entirely welcome or not. Last night, Evangeline said they’d only found out about you that morning, meaning less than half a day to come to terms with your existence - and Ceri’s.

“So you’re from Wendlyn,” he finally said.

“I am,” you sipped your tea.

“Why did you go to the Southern Continent?”

Glancing towards your daughter - currently caught up in conversation with Rowan, you noticed Fenrys pinning Aedion with a nasty look. It seemed to say; you know why. You were grateful he was there, without him your nerves might’ve already gotten the best of you.

“It was not safe to be there. My mother was from Antica, and for honesty’s sake, there’s few places where our kind are well received. You traced a finger over the curves of your pointed ears, “I couldn’t hide my heritage, neither could she.”

“Were you ever going to tell him?”

Lysandra, quite obviously, jabbed her elbow into his side. There was something else here … more personal.

Fenrys had said; “Aedion’s father is … was Gavriel. Like you, his mother kept it a secret for his sake.”

“I won’t lie to you, I wasn’t sure. I told her that her father’s a Fae warrior and Royal, when she asked, but she never pressed for his name. If she did, I would’ve told her.” Silver hair flashed in your peripherals, and you were aware she was listening in now. “I believe our paths would’ve crossed at some point.”

Aedion seemed satisfied by your answer, and stopped that line of questioning. The pointed stare from Aelin might have helped as well, because he shot a sheepish look your way, before asking more pleasant questions. It didn’t bother you, you were a stranger, and it’s natural they'd want to assess if you were a threat to their country or Queen. With your daughter, you’d undoubtedly do the same thing. Still, the idea that you would have to prove yourself turned your stomach.

Everyone kept glancing between your daughter and Rowan, and seeing the two side by side - again, re-iterated just how alike they looked. At first, every look at the silver tufts of hair, the deep green eyes, had been a reminder of him, but over the years the two separated. Sure, you still thought of their resemblance, once in a while, but he’d slipped to the back of your mind, your entire world existing outside of him, two circles far away from each other. Until a few weeks ago.

Everything will be different. Your fingers tapped against your thighs. A better world.

As long as Ceri was happy, you could find happiness too.

Rowan quickly learned what his daughter was like. Wild was the best way to describe her. Either the best or the worst combination of him and his mother.

The first time he spotted her at the top of a tree, he panicked.

“Ceri, come down,” he pleaded.

“It’s nice up here,” she countered, and sat her ass down, obviously intending to stay a while.

“She’ll come down when she’s ready,” a soft voice murmured, the scent of roses flooding the area. Roses … without your voice - he might not have recognized it, you’d always chosen Lilacs for perfume, soap, anything. He’d been distracted enough by his daughter balancing on a precarious branch, he didn’t hear your approach.

“Is this … common?”

“You get used to it,” you walked up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, a good twelve inches of space between you. “Evangeline is waiting, she brought you and Ani chocolates.”

Leaves shuffled, a few branches creaked - Rowan winced and tensed - but Ceri was down from the tree in less than a minute, sprinting back towards where Evangeline waited, looking thoroughly amused.

Everyone seemed to be amused at how his daughter shot his heart rate to dangerous levels.

Three weeks passed, and you grew more and more on edge. Eager to leave Orynth, to see somewhere else in Terrasen. Everyone seemed to watch you. Eyes on you at all times, everyone who passed you in the hall. Their eyes lit up as they saw Ceri, only to narrow slightly as they crossed over to you holding her hand.

A stranger, who looked nothing like the small girl a carbon copy of the King.

A year and a half passed, and you were still in Terrasen. Everyone else was thriving, and although you didn’t quite feel at home yet, you were getting there.

The entire court, and the country really, had been more than welcoming - but, you made sure to put a certain distance between you and the King and Queen, keeping it exactly as you’d intended - co-parenting. You and your daughter’s every move was watched, although she didn’t seem to mind or notice, it kept you hyper-aware and a bit paranoid.

The mother of King Rowan’s daughter.

That’s what you’d been reduced to. Being her mother was an honor, of course, but you lost a sense of your identity. Reya, sliding more under the radar, helped you sell your goods - that way you knew they weren’t buying just because of who your daughter was. Because of who managed to stick a babe in you.

Your entire group decided to stay in Terrasen, but Rowan barely saw you throughout the last two years.

For fucks sake, Fenrys saw more of you than he did, and it shouldn’t have bothered him this much. You’d been friends of sorts eight years ago - not long considering an immortal lifespan, but now it felt like you were barely a step up from strangers, like you both didn’t share one of the most important people in your lives.

“Why is she so distant?” Aelin asked Lysandra, and Rowan started paying attention to their conversation. The two were inhaling impressive amounts of chocolates and wine, lounging in their sitting room. They’d chosen to live in Caraverre, and the shifter definitely boasted, lightheartedly, about it once in a while. If he had his way, which rarely happens anymore, he’d have both of you here in Orynth.

“You haven’t put that together yet?” Lysandra purred, tipping her glass back as Aelin scowled.

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be asking you.”

Lysandra faked exasperation, letting out a long exhale. “Even in Caraverre, there’s always eyes on her. She’s very careful of how it can be perceived, if she gets too close to either of you.”

“She’s staying away to keep her reputation clean?” Rowan cut in.

“And yours,” she ran her finger around the rim of the glass, “but maybe that’ll change some, now that she has someone to herself.”

His teeth clenched and Lysandra’s head tilted - but Aelin had tensed next to her. “Who is it, Lys?”

“None of my business,” she smirked, enjoying that she had some kind of knowledge Aelin, and he, wanted.

“You make everything your business.” Rowan cut in.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? She’ll be here next week, won’t she?”

“If someone’s going to be around my daughter, I should know of it.” Rowan knew, even if he wouldn’t admit it, that it wasn’t really about that. He trusted your judgment, trusted that you wouldn’t let anyone dangerous around her. Still, he wanted to be a part of your life. Wanted to know these kinds of things about you, and wanted to spend more than twenty minutes with you twice a month.

“I doubt it’s permanent,” Lysandra laughed and dodged the pillow Aelin tossed her way.

“Maybe I should visit more often.” Aelin mused, “If I go to her, alone, it might not be as … reputation damaging.”

Aelin spit the last two words out like she didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her reputation, of her being friends with you.

Rowan wanted to know why you cared.

He didn’t get a chance to. You avoided being alone with him as much as possible, rarely giving him an opening to ask any sort of questions like that. When he managed to lead the conversation in that direction, you deflected with such ease that by the time he realized it was off topic, you were gone. Aelin visited you on her own, but apparently you either deflected or shut down when she brought it up, and his wife gave up on that - not wanting to push you away further.

Something was wrong, and Aelin knew because Ceri was quiet, and she certainly hadn’t inherited her father’s distaste for words.

Rowan caved first, putting his spoon down. “What is it?”

She huffed and copied his movement. “My mum’s sad. She thinks she’s good at hiding it, but I can tell.”

“Why is she sad?” Aelin asked gently.

Her lips pursed together, debating telling them something. “Aunt Reya and Ani are probably leaving soon.” Aelin met Rowan’s gaze, that was news to him as well. Probably, meaning they were probably waiting to tell anyone until it’s official. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I thought you should know.”

“We can keep the secret,” Rowan assured her, “how do you feel … about that?”

The way she stabbed the piece of fruit told Aelin enough about how she felt. “I’m mad, and mum says it’s fine to be angry, but to try and be happy for them too. Ani’s grandmother wants them to come home, and she always complains about the snow.”

Ceri switched to a recounting of her latest ghost-leopard sighting. She was obsessed with them. “And her partner is going to take her -”

“Partner?” Rowan cut in before he could stop himself.

Ceri rolled her eyes, “yes, mum’s partner, is taking her -”

Rowan stiffened next to her, fist clenching around his glass, and Aelin stomped on his foot, dragging him back to the present.

“What’s his name?”

“I don’t know,” her green eyes narrowed.

“Have you met them?” She tried to ask as casually as possible.

“No,” her nose scrunched up.

“Your mum told you?”

Mischief shone in her eyes, “I heard her conversation with Aunt Reya.”

More likely she feigned sleep and snuck out of bed. Rowan had taught her how to redirect her scent, and she’s putting it to good use. Aelin stomped on Rowan’s foot again - at the smug look on his face.

He caught her gaze, he’s not good enough for her.

We don’t know who he is.

Maybe Fenrys does.

We shouldn’t interfere … but Aelin wants to, and it makes no damn sense to her.

“Who’s y/n’s partner?” Rowan asked Fenrys - bluntly.

The male smirked, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his hands behind his head. “Who says it’s not me?”

Rowan snarled, and Fenrys barked out a laugh. “I’m not, relax. We’re just friends”

“But you know who he is?” He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his thighs. Fenrys looked far too amused at this.

“I know who she is.”

He’d forgotten that particular detail. “And what’s her name?”

“I’m not the one you should be asking. Besides, I doubt it’ll last. None of the others have.”

“Others?”

“If you asked her these things, she’d tell you.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice,” he growled, tempted to kick him out.

“Too bad, you got it anyway. Tell your daughter to stop eavesdropping if you don’t want to know.” That’s the problem, he does want to know. Fenrys know’s that too, but he’s just being a bastard for his own amusement. “And Rowan?” He stood, heading towards the door.

“What?”

“Neither you or Aelin have a claim to her.” Rowan opened his mouth, as if to protest but … he doesn’t have a claim to her, not now. “Until you do, let her live her life.”

The door shut behind him. You or Aelin. Until you do. The bedroom door swung open, revealing Aelin, a towel wrapped across her chest.

“You heard everything?”

“I did.”

“If you like mum, why aren’t you with her?” Ceri questioned. Fenrys’s fork dropped, clattering onto his plate as he shot an incredulous look at Rowan.

“We like her as a friend,” Rowan clarified.

“Aren’t friends supposed to stay with each other?”

Fenrys and Aedion were barely holding back laughter, and Rowan looked to Aelin, she could handle this question.

Coward, she said.

“Lysandra and I are friends, and we live just as far apart as your mother does.”

“But Evangeline says only special friends make babies,” she pointed her fork at Rowan, “that’s different.”

The other males gave up holding back their laughter, getting a scowl from the little hellion. Aelin watched Rowan’s cheeks flush as he tried to figure out how to answer this. Your turn, she said.

He was saved as Ceri launched two grapes towards Aedion and Fenrys, using a bit of wind to make sure they hit their targets; “We’ve talked about this. No throwing food at the table.” Still, he admired the two small splatters on each of their foreheads, “but your aim is getting better.”

“You never answered my question.”

Rowan was not prepared for this. Centuries couldn’t have prepared him for this, but he prayed his answer would be enough. “We are not … special friends anymore.”

She looked ready to ask why, but returned to her food instead. He finally felt like he could breathe again. Someone needs to make a book on how to deal with this.

Aelin was excited, both you and Ceri would be arriving soon, and she was hoping to convince you to stay at least overnight. They had about a fifty percent success rate with convincing you to stay in Orynth at least a bit longer. Since your friend left, it became more frequent. Plus, considering the massive snowstorm looming, Aelin would raise her odds.

“If I leave now, I should miss most of it,” she knew you were looking at the clock behind her, your teeth were worrying your bottom lip. Even you were doubting it.

“Or you’ll be stranded in the snow,” Rowan countered, arms crossing over his chest, head tilting to the side.

“I can handle myself.”

“Not if you freeze to death.”

“Just stay,” Ceri groaned, tugging on your sleeve. “She’s not there anyway.”

Who is she?

“And why is that?” You raised a brow, and your daughter shrugged her shoulders, but didn’t quite look apologetic.

“Because they-I didn't like her.”

“You never met her.”

“I didn’t have to,” Ceri’s wicked grin sent a shiver down her spine. Aelin recognized the look on her face, she’d seen it all too frequently in her husband. You sighed, but abandoned the argument, instead watching as she ran off, spotting some of her friends down the hall. A long time ago, they gave up trying to get her to stop running in the castle.

“What did she do?” Aelin forced amusement on her face.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “One day she showed up at my door - while Ceri was at school, told me it wasn’t going to work, and Ceri came home looking very pleased with herself.”

“How long were you together?” Aelin linked an arm through yours.

“A few months,” you hummed, admitting, “It wouldn’t have worked long term.”

You’d been here for three days, trapped by the storm. The longest amount of time since you’d arrived in Terrasen, and the most at peace you’d felt. It should be the opposite, really, considering how much effort you’ve put into avoiding Rowan specifically, but their company was enjoyable and put you at ease. Aelin made herself difficult to avoid. She developed a habit of randomly showing up on your doorstep, for book exchanges or to ‘get a break from him.’

Aelin let you borrow some clothes, considering you hadn’t planned to spend the night, and convinced you to let her braid your hair.

“You’re not horrible at it,” Ceri informed Aelin and you winced.

“Not horrible?” Aelin smiled at her, taking the ‘compliment’ with ease. “Last time you said I was doing great.”

“I said you were doing better.”

“Then who’s the best at it?” You teased, already knowing the answer.

“Evangeline.”

Now, it was just the four of you in a small hearth room - a fire roaring in the corner, an oak table filled with warm and heavy food, three pints of ale and one hot chocolate.

“I want to move here,” Ceri announced at the table.

Gods, maybe she could’ve mentioned you to this before - not in front of them as well, backing you right into a corner. Eyes shuttering closed, you let out of a slow breath, giving yourself a few seconds before opening them again.

“We can talk about it,” you promised her, sending an apologetic look to Rowan and Aelin. But they … they seemed excited about it. It makes sense they’d want Ceri closer. A few years ago, you told yourself you’d go where she wanted. If she wants to be here … there’s not much holding you to Caraverre really. Not much holding you anywhere, besides your daughter. That haunting sense of loneliness crept back into you.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“It’s a big change,” Rowan swept in, “something we can talk about later.”

“I want my whole family together.”

Family.

It was impossible to miss the excitement in Rowan’s eyes, the same one echoed in Aelin and Ceri’s. In everyone but yours. Yours were filled with trepidation and concern.

“Quit worrying so much,” Reya told you, in the days before her departure. “You’ll make yourself miserable.”

“Are you moving to Orynth?” Aelin asked later that night, convincing you to share a bottle of wine with her. Rowan was in the corner, reading some kind of report, but his eyes stopped moving, head tilted slightly to listen in to the conversation.

“Ceri wants to,” one finger absentmindedly ran over your scar, “wants both of us to.” For a bit, you thought she may have worded it wrong - that she just wanted to reverse the roles and live primarily with Rowan. But, she’d insisted both of you come here.

“There’s not a chance she’d move without you,” Aelin plucked your empty glass out of your hands, filling both of yours halfway.

“Thank you,” your fingers brushed as she handed it to you, and you could’ve sworn she lingered for a second. It’s the wine. Blinking heavily to bring yourself into focus, you admitted, “I’m glad,” and hoped they’d interpret your flush on the cheeks as alcohol-induced.

“We’ll be glad to have you here,” she countered.

“We’ll have to start looking at homes.”

“Live in the castle,” Rowan said from his corner, papers now resting on his thighs.

There it was, the demanding tone. If he thought he could bark an order and bring her to heel, he didn’t know her as well as you thought he did. Then again … he’d changed, and so had you.

You shook your head, “It’s not a good idea.”

“Why?” Aelin was facing you now, legs curled up under her. To give yourself time to think, you took another drink.

“We all know how it’ll -”

“I don’t care how it looks,” Rowan cut you off, “you’re the only one who does,” he added - a tad gentler.

“I like to keep a low profile.”

“You like to hide,” he countered, “we haven’t kept Ceri a secret.”

“There’s a difference between just our daughter, and both of us living here.”

“What will it take for you to stop being a damn coward? To stop hiding?”

“Rowan,” Aelin warned, her voice sharp.

Tense silence filled the room, but Rowan didn’t seem to regret his words - not one bit, and that incensed you further.

“I’m not a coward,” you snarled, chest tightening, cheeks turning red. Oh, he knew the right words to light a fire under your ass. To push you into enough anger to get a reaction. Calm was your default. Always calm, always composed, always steady. The current of anger and resentment, the feelings you buried so deep inside, threatened to sweep you under.

“Rowan,” Aelin snarled, louder, as his mouth opened. His jaw slammed back shut, giving you a chance to get the rest of your words out. In. Count to four. Out. Count to four.

“There’s a good reason for my fear,” your voice shook, despite your best efforts, hand trailing over the scar again. “Hiding has saved me more often than not.”

Aelin’s brow furrowed, but Rowan’s eyes flashed in recognition.

The top of a hill, crouched in a tree, the magic your mother bent - the wards last minute designed to keep you out, to keep you away from them. Away from the slaughter. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get past them, but couldn’t convince yourself to run away either. Instead, you watched as the soldiers fell, watched and hid.

A warm hand squeezed your shoulder, and you jerked, lower back hitting the arm of the couch, “sorry,” you murmured, still half in a daze, trying to shake the memory away. Turquoise and gold eyes peered at you with concern, her hand slowly retreating, body posture pointedly relaxed and unthreatening.

“Aelin doesn’t know,” Rowan cleared his throat. You’d spilled that story to him one night, both of you plied with a good amount of liquor. It surprised you he hadn’t shared that with her. “It’s not my story to tell,” he added, reading the look on your face.

“It is safer for the two of you to live here.” Aelin said quietly. Maybe it was unintentional, but she played the right card. Swallowing a bit of discomfort for safety is a sacrifice you could make. Maybe free yourself too, to stop worrying so much. If they didn’t care about public perception, you had no reason to.

“If you still care about how it looks,” Aelin continued, ignoring the look Rowan tried to pin her with, “think of it this way; people will be happier to see a family together, considering how many were torn apart.”

You could see exactly how she made a great queen. A few phrases from her changed your mindset enough you were on the verge of agreeing, but you made them wait in a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. But … you weren’t ready to let go of it, not just yet.

“Do you really think it’s that unsafe? For us to live outside of the castle?” Unintentionally, you were drawn to the three kingsflame preserved on the mantle. Beautiful small red and orange flowers, encased in crystal. Selfish, a nasty voice in your head crooned at you, they’re trying to help.

Rowan didn’t detect any kind of accusation in your question. The short answer would be no. He didn’t believe Orynth was unsafe in general, but he didn’t … trust anyone with you or Ceri’s safety. Any chance, even infinitesimal, was too much of a risk to him.

When the silence dragged on, you stiffened, “or is it me, that you don’t trust to keep us safe?”

“We trust you,” Aelin rushed, thankfully without hesitation, sensing the anger creeping back in, and Rowan nodded his agreement. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen you truly angry, and a small part of him liked poking these reactions out of you. To do something most others couldn’t, to break the careful calm you’ve built over the years. It was there when he knew you, but now it was nearly unflappable. Still, he didn’t want to do that if it would hurt you.

He thought about if he’d answered “no” to your question. He does believe in you, but if he’d said that … you might have lost the confidence you’d built in your work, and trust in yourself. Real wards and protective enchantments were difficult to come by, and rumors of your work reached Orynth - under a false name, but he knew exactly who it was.

You glanced down at your lap, tapping your fingers against your leg. Either deep in thought, or nervous.

“I don’t know if it would be good for her, spending all of her time here. She doesn’t want to be a princess.”

Rowan had heard that before, from his daughter, what felt like hundreds of times by now.

“I’m aware,” he deadpanned, watching the corners of your mouth turn up.

“I’ll speak to Ceri, before we make any decisions.” Aelin couldn’t hide the relief on her face, neither could he. Now, just to get his daughter on their side. At the hint of challenge in your eyes, he had a suspicion that might be more difficult than he expected.

#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #throne of glass fic #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x reader #aelin galathynius x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin #throne of glass x reader

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gothicbabydollz · 2 years

Note

PROFESSOR LORCAN PLS PLS PLSPSLPSLSPSLSPOSPSLSPSJSODNCB

Mr Salvaterre had a little lamb

~~~

Pairings: Professor!Lorcan x f!student!reader

Warnings: smut, kinda dark?, age gap (reader is over 18), innocence kink, praise kink, spanking, clit play, crying, dacryphilia, corruption, pet names (sweetheart, little girl, little lamb)

Summary: Your college professor isn’t pleased that you’re distracted in his class, ruining his plans to finally act on his need for you. Lorcan supposes he’ll just have to punish you instead.

Word count: around 3.7k

a/n: don’t worry, you’ll get that reward in pt 2. thanks for helping with titles, sweetie!! @ofelia-writesxox

~~~

You haven’t been paying attention. The discussion surrounding the class’s latest assignment going through one ear and out the other. Ever since you stepped into the classroom 2 hour prior, you couldn’t find it in you to focus. You’re supposed to be taking notes to help you study tonight. But your hand hasn’t moved in a long while. You can’t even remember what exactly you were to be taking notes on. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’re a straight A student for gods sake. College is your top priority. You don’t dabble in usual college life activities, late night parties or drunken hookups. You’ve never been distracted. Until, of course, you started taking this class. And the reason for such distraction?

Well, he’s standing in front of the entire class, leaning back casually against his desk. Professor Salvaterre.

He’s a good teacher- a great one actually. It’s one of the reasons why you’re so enamoured by him. That, and his looks, his voice, the way he carries himself. He makes you feel excited, a tingling excitement that seems to stem from deep in your tummy. You get hot all over whenever he praises you for getting an answer right, and when he hands you back little encouraging notes along with your marked papers. You try and remind yourself that he probably does that for everyone he teaches. Yet you can’t stifle your own mind, your thoughts about your professor becoming more and more salacious as the nights go on. You imagine him praising you…for pleasing him in more ways than simply showing how smart you are. You remind yourself to wash your pillow before you sleep tonight. After sending in your near-perfect assignment essay last night, you had gotten so riled up to thought of Professor Salvaterre marking your work on the other side of your computer screen. You could practically see his faint smile and hear his deep voice as he pointed out which parts he thought were excellent. So, you’d taken your pillow and rubbed your bare self against it, a hand slapped over your mouth so that your roommates, Aedion and Lysandra wouldn’t hear your little moans.

Every fantasy you have is causing each class harder to sit through without your mind running wild. Which is why you’ve done nothing but stare at your professor all morning. He’s so handsome, you can’t tear your eyes away. His height is ridiculous, even from where you sit, you feel as though he’s still towering over you. You’d have to strain your neck to look into his eyes if you were standing directly in front of him. He’s dressed in his usual attire. Black slacks, tight around his large thighs, thick with muscle you believe. They bulge each time he takes a seat. A worn-out belt holds them up, he occasionally hooks his thumbs through the loops; the action makes you smile to yourself. Professor Salvaterre always shirts that are a little too small for him, sitting snug around his chest and shoulders. It’s white today. Top button undone and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his tanned skin littered with dark hairs. Prominent veins run down his forearms to his hands. Those huge hands, capable of smothering your own. You remember the time he read aloud to the class, making the rather large book appear tiny in his hold. You had to hold your breath each time he licked the pad of his thumb to turn a page.

As your gaze travels up from his hands, you finally notice your professor’s dark, piercing gaze, locked directly on you. That’s when you hear him calling your name. You sit up to attention, blinking out of whatever trance you were in. Hearing someone snigger, you burn with embarrassment and fight back the urge to hide. Your professor cocks his head sympathetically, “I asked if you had the answer?” he repeats softly. The answer? What’s the answer to the question you didn’t even hear him ask? You shake your head, defeated. “I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry.” Professor Salvaterre sighs deeply, a look of disappointment washing over his features. That look alone hurts more than the embarrassment you feel. “That’s a shame,” he takes a step forward, eyes still on you, “Focus, y/n. How you participate in my class will impact your final grade.” You nod and find the ability to breathe once he tears his gaze away from you to scan the class. “That goes for all of you. Keep that in mind for next week because time is up.” Clapping his hands together, the class begins to pack up.

You curse under your breath when you finally look down. A large splotch of ink has ruined whatever notes you had managed to take at the start of the lesson. You’ll have to ask Aedion for his, as he took this class last year. Not that you have much hope for his notes, all he ever did was complain about the subject. Sighing, you shut your notebook and shove it into your back as you prepare to leave, ready to go stow away in your bedroom for the rest of the day. At least until Lysandra and Aedion show up with takeout to make you feel better.

As you’re making your way out, professor Salveterre calling your name yet again causes you to pause in your tracks. You turn to him, “Yes, sir?” He’s still standing by his desk, arms folded across his chest with his head tilted to look at you. “Can you stay behind a minute? I would like a word regarding your involvement in class today.” He explains, making your stomach flip as though you’re a child in trouble for getting caught lying. Nodding, you slowly make your way towards him as the last of your classmates leave. You flinch when the door clicks shut, trapping you alone with your professor. “I’m really sorry, professor. I know I should’ve been paying attention, I just- “

“You’re a smart girl,” He silences your rambling, “Very smart.” You’re left confused as ever when he walks around his desk, tugging open his top drawer to pull out a collection of papers. Unsure of what to say, you simply watch your professor as he returns to you. “As expected, top marks. Good job, sweetheart.” You thought he was going to lecture you for being unfocused, but instead he hands you a printed copy of the essay you submitted the night before. You try to conceal how the name he used is affecting you by staring down at the paper in your hand and asking, “You’ve already marked them all?” You flick through the pages, examining his highlights, pointing out good work and a few suggestions for improvement. “Just yours. Last night.” You freeze. Skin heating, reminded of your activities as you fantasized about him marking this very essay. He was doing exactly as you’d imagined. All while you relieved yourself at the thought. You force yourself to keep turning the pages and your gaze catches at the sticky note attached with his little message for you. Letting you know how proud he is. “Thank you, sir.” You smile to yourself. “Ah,” He catches onto what you’re smiling about, “I quite enjoy writing those for you.” Brows furrowing, you look up at your professor with a little shake of your head, “You write those for everybody.” That’s what you’ve been telling yourself anyway. But professor Salvaterre chuckles, his smirk intoxicating, “They’re reserved only for my favourite student.” Your tummy flutters wildly in response.

He takes your stunned silence as an opportunity to take the essay from your hands and toss it onto his desk behind him. “As I said, sweetheart,” Your professor takes a step towards you, he’s so close you’re left staring at his chest, you can smell his cologne. And god, if he doesn’t stop calling you ‘sweetheart’, you’re going to melt into a puddle at his feet. “You’re a smart girl. A good girl.” Your lips part in a silent gasp, a blush tinting your cheeks. You feel his eyes on you, yet you can’t raise your chin and let him see what his words do to you. He’s your professor. That’s all. This is just your mind acting crude. “But you were distracted today, that’s what you were going to say, right? What I want to know, is why.” And finally, here it is. The lecture you’ve been expecting. But before you can start apologizing, come up with a silly excuse and promise to never do it again…he continues. “Does it have anything to do with the way you’ve been staring at me all morning?”

Guilt eats you from the inside out. You’ve been caught for something highly inappropriate. You chew on your bottom lip as your mind races with the possible outcomes of this. “I’ve noticed your eyes on me for a while now,” He adds. You have to turn your head to the side as tears bite at your eyes, threatening to spill. Distractions get you in trouble. You’ve managed to avoid them for so long, you should’ve known this would happen. “I’m sorry,” You whisper, attempting to keep your voice from wavering. You hear him sigh and you jump, startled when you feel warm fingers grasping your chin. “Oh, sweetheart,” he moves your head, tilting your chin up until he can see your face. When you finally look at him, you find your professor smirking down at you, “Why do you think I leave those notes for you if I don’t enjoy seeing you get all flustered?”

A stray tear falls when you blink at him in surprise, trying to work out whether this is really happening or if it’s another erotic dream. His thumb catches the tear, wiping it into your skin when he strokes your cheek. This can’t be real, he’s your- he’s your teacher. But he’s been doing everything possible to obtain a reaction from you, he wanted this to happen. As if sensing your thoughts, “That’s right, sweetheart. I’ve been watching you too. How could I not? You’ve always been my good girl, my perfect student.” Your heart is pounding so hard, you’re almost sure he can hear it. He looks amused, watching you realize that he’s just as consumed with desire for you as you are with him. His hand slips to the back of your neck, using his gentle grip to tug you closer. You gasp, hands landing on his chest to steady yourself. “You’ve been so good for so long. And I had a special reward in mind for you today, sweetheart.” How is this happening? How have you let yourself be lured in like prey? You’re a lamb, chasing happily after the butterfly of reward and praise, unaware of the wolf waiting ever so patiently to pounce when you stumble. And once his teeth have sunk, there’s no escaping. “But you just had to misbehave this morning, didn’t you?”

The wolf’s teeth have found their mark. His grip on the back of your neck tightens, causing a whimper to escape. You didn’t expect to feel to wounded knowing your professor is disappointed in you. Fresh tears line your eyes, it’s taking all your strength to hold them at bay. You can’t deny you haven’t secretly dreamt of this moment for months, dreamt of that special reward. And now to hear that he’s changed his mind due to your misconduct? The humiliation is unbearable. Here you stand, pressing close to your college professor, tiptoeing on a line that will be impossible to come back from if you were to cross over. But you’re willing to do anything if it means he’ll forgive you. “Please, Sir. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Your voice wobbles, a sob threatening to break free.

“I know, sweetheart,” He sighs, stepping out of the way so he can use his hold to move you as he wishes, “I know it was a mistake, you didn’t mean it.” Your professor walks you forward, until your hips are pressing against the edge of his desk. Then you feel the heat of him behind you, leaning down so his lips hover right by your ear. “But I need you to understand that bad girls don’t get rewards. Bad girls, get punished. Is that what you need?” His breath against your skin makes you shiver, and you nod with a pout on your lips. “Say it.”

“Yes, sir. I deserve to be punished,” You can’t fight the anticipation crawling down your spine. Who knew the thought of him punishing you would get you just as excited? Maybe even a little more. It’s exhilarating. “That’s right,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, “Now, if you can take your punishment like a good girl…then you might find yourself with a little reward after all.” Your professor’s hand is hot against your back as he pushes you down over his desk, your upper body sprawled across his paperwork. Your heart has never beat so fast, you have no idea what he’s going to do to you. Yet you’re nodding, almost babbling, “I can, sir, I will. I’ll be good, I promise.” His praise his too good to lose, you’ll do anything for him.

He only laughs at your eagerness to please him. You jump, feeling warm fingertips brushing the back of your bare thighs. Being bent over your professor’s desk has caused your skirt to ride up, the curve of your behind just visible below the hem. His fingers reach the fabric, and you forget how to breathe, yet lust overtakes any doubts in your mind. Professor Salvaterre curses when he flips your skirt up, exposing the cute, cotton panties hugging your ass so perfectly. “Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he groans, taking handfuls of your plump flesh in his grip. You whine in response, body subconsciously pushing back against him. Your professor sighs, fondling your ass softly in his palms. “Remember, sweetheart. I’m doing this for your benefit,” He warns before his touch leaves you, you’re about to turn your head to look at him before you’re taken by surprise. Pain blossoming across your backside.

The harsh, sudden spank causes your whole body to tense up, a loud yelp caught in your throat. Eyes watering, you press your forehead to his desk. He soothes the sting by rubbing circles over your skin, “I know it hurts, but you need to learn. How are you going to remain my perfect little student if I let you get away with being distracted in class? So, as much as I want to worship your pretty little body, I’m still your teacher and I want you to do well.” He’s right. He’s always right. With a nod, you widen the stance of your legs, prepared to endure your punishment. “Good girl.” The praise shoots between your legs, allowing you to feel a moment of pleasure before he lands the next spank. Right over the previous one. You hiccup, tears slipping down your cheeks.

He doesn’t give you a moments break before he spanks you for a third time, harder than before. You squirm, hips digging painfully into the edge of the desk as you try to escape the stinging. “Shh, sweetheart, I know. Just two more and you’re all done,” He coos, rubbing your poor, tender ass, “You’re doing so well.” As much as your punishment hurts, there’s a pulsing between your legs that’s only becoming stronger, begging to be relieved. Two more. That’s all. And then maybe your professor will give you the reward you so desperately want.

The final two spanks have your silent tears dripping onto the essay paper on the desk. It’s yours. You watch the bright red A blurs on the page as you attempt to calm your breathing. The stringing numbing down to a dull throb. Professor Salvaterre runs his fingers over your skin, admiring the handprints bruising your backside. “I’m almost sad we don’t have class tomorrow, sweetheart. It would be so amusing to watch you squirm knowing I’m the reason it hurts to sit this pretty little ass in your seat,” he hums as he thinks about it. And you whine quietly, you’re going to have to use a pillow to sit down for the next couple days. He hears the sound and pulls you up from his desk, “C’mere, little girl. You’re all done.” He turns you to face him, hand rising to your cheek, like he’s going to wipe away your tears. But he pauses before his skin can meet yours, his eyes roaming your face, as if he enjoys the sight of you crying. His palm cups the side of your neck instead. “Learnt anything from today?”

You nod, letting your arms wrap around his waist, “When I’m a good girl, you reward me,” you sniffle, pouting, “And when I’m a bad girl, you punish me.” Your professor chuckles, free hand playing with the hem of your skirt. “That’s right. And you’re going to be good from now on, hm? And give me an excuse to do everything I want to your pretty little body?” He asks, fingers slipping beneath your skirt, sliding slowly up. You gasp when he makes contact with your damp, panties. “Yes!” You almost cry out, “Yes, sir.” His smirk is deadly, “You took your punishment well, sweetheart. What do you want as your reward?” he your clothed heat, feeling your wetness seep through the cotton.

“I want-“ You swallow, finding yourself breathless from the way your professor is touching your most intimate places, “I want to kiss you…please?” His expression softens as your innocence shines through, he wasn’t expecting such a small and simple request. He leans down, granting your request, his eyes search yours before he presses his lips to yours. Not having much experience, you’re aware you’re not a very good kisser. Yet he doesn’t seem to mind, guiding your lips with his in slow, gentle movements. Your grip on his waist tightens, your mind still unable to process that this is really happening.

Your lips part in a moan as his fingers press against your clit, and your professor takes that as an opportunity to sweep his tongue into your mouth. His thumb pushes your chin up, tilting your head back to allow him to deepen the kiss. His tongue is warm and wet, gliding over yours. He’s confident whereas you’re shy, your tongue tentatively brushing his, stuttering with each circle of his fingers over your sensitive clit. You’re gasping and whining into his mouth, trying your hardest to keep up with his kisses. But his fingers feel so good, never slowing as he plays with your pulsing nub, sending pleasure spiraling through your veins. It tightens over and over in the pit of your tummy, making your muscles begin to tense up. You let yourself get lost in him, focusing on the pleasure his mouth and fingers are giving you. Your professor kisses you passionately while he winds your body up like a clock. You’re whimpers pass into his mouth, he’s hungrily swallowing each one down, tongue always coming back for more.

Your thighs quiver. You feel his hand leaving your neck to wrap his arm around your waist, keeping you steady. You can feel your peak swiftly approaching, keeping up with his tongue becoming more and more difficult. He can feel you struggling and smirks, “There it is, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your lips, “You’re almost there.” Your hands move to grip his arms, nails digging into him as he takes you higher. You feel his muscles moving from the hand buried beneath your skirt. He lays his forehead against your temple to watch every reaction on your face, his nose presses against your cheek, his hot breaths heating your skin.

Your eyes squeeze shut when your climax begins to wash over your body. It hits you in waves, each one sending a small jolt through you. You’re glad he’s there to hold you upright, otherwise your knees would’ve buckled and sent you falling to the floor. Your breaths are labored, coming out in short gasps for air. In and out. You remind yourself when you feel as though you’re going to stop breathing altogether. “Good girl,” your professor praises, helping you through it all.

He removes his hand from between your legs when your body relaxes, having ridden out the very last aftershocks. Professor Salvaterre straightens, towering over you once again. Your face heats as you think about all that has just occurred. From your college professor spanking you to making cum in your panties. You don’t know whether to be happy or ashamed. “You feel okay, little lamb?” he asks, taking a step back to really get a look at you. You can’t help the grin when you nod, lost for words. He laughs, brushing a stray strand of your hair out of your face, “Sweetheart. That was only a taster of what I’m going to do to you.”

You smile drops, as does your tummy. He makes you feel so aroused with just a few simple words. Yet, you’re relieved to know that this isn’t just a one time thing. And it makes you excited for the next time you see him, you’ll be on your bestest behaviour if it means he’ll make you feel like this again. “You’ll have to run along now. I’ve got another class to teach soon,” he sighs, both of you clearly disappointed with having to leave each other. Your chin bobs, “Yes, professor,” you try a step, doing your best not to squirm due to the dampness between your legs. “I think you’re allowed to call me Lorcan now,” he- Lorcan tells you.

That brings back your smile, “I’ll see you next week…Lorcan.” His name rolls off your tongue so easily, so perfectly. Lorcan smirks once again, “I like hearing you say that,” he chuckles before sighing, “I’ll see you next lesson, little lamb. Behave.” He adds, patting your ass to hear you hiss. To make you remember exactly what will happen if you don’t…

#professor!lorcan #lorcan salvaterre smut #lorcan salvaterre x reader #lorcan x reader smut #lorcan x reader #lorcan smut #lorcan salvaterre #professor!lorcan x reader #lorcan x elide #elorcan #professor x student

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autumnshighlady · 2 years

Text

Office Hours

Professor!Gavriel x student!reader

summary: After a mortifying incident with your favourite professor, you begin a little game with yourself to see how far you can push it. Little did you know, Professor Gavriel has caught onto your game and is playing along...

warnings: smut (18+), oral sex (m & f receiving), praise kink, student/professor relationship (reader is in university/college and is therefore over the age of 18), etc, edging, pet names (baby, little one, darling)

word count: 5.6k

request: Are you comfortable with the Professor x student fic? If so, do you mind writing a smut where Gavriel is the Professor and the reader is the student? ��🧡

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: fun-not-so-fun fact: the embarrassing incident in this fic (not the stuff that happened after it I swear) is almost exactly something that happened to me with the professor I was crushing on, it’s been almost 3 years and I have yet to live it down....

for 🌻 anon <3

part 2 here

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Frantically, you sprinted down the hall of one of your university buildings. Wheezing slightly, you cursed the universe for being out to get you today. For whatever reason, the alarm you swore you set last night didn’t go off. Thus you had woken up later than usual, frantically scrambling out of bed to get ready.

Next, you found out that you had forgotten to hang your laundry load up to dry. All of your nice school clothes and bras were damp and wrinkled, leaving you to throw on nothing but a t-shirt, underwear, old leggings, and a hoodie. After frantically getting dressed and praying you had gathered everything you needed, your car would not start. As a result, you ended up taking the bus to your Friday afternoon class. And then hit traffic.

All of which made you incredibly late.

Practically knocking over a group of first year students along the way, you rounded the corner to lecture hall 208 where your first and only class of the day was – history with Professor Gavriel. It was by far your favourite class, the course specialising in epistemology and philosophy. At first, you had only signed up for it because Professor Lorcan Salvaterre’s military history class had filled up, leaving you scrambling to find a second option for registration. However, within the first few classes with Professor Gavriel, you began to fall in love with the course material.

And the professor who taught it.

Well, it was more of a crush and an infatuation than love. But nonetheless, Professor Gavriel was drop dead gorgeous. He had a soothing voice, one that captivated you as he paced back and forth explaining historical material. He was extremely tall, well muscled but not obnoxiously bulky, broad-shouldered and tan-skinned. The professor’s golden hair was cropped just below his neck, often let loose or tied half up. Those cat-like, tawny-orange eyes pierced yours whenever his gaze would wander over to wherever you were sitting. Sometimes when the top button of his shirt was undone, you were blessed with the sight of his muscled neck that was encircled with tattoos – you were sure there were more that you couldn’t see.

Professor Gavriel’s face was kind and gentle, yet there was something below the surface of it that heated your blood. His content face was warm and approachable, yet his toned muscles and whorling tattoos gave him a dark edge that captivated you. At first, you thought it was just a small crush, but midway through the semester you found yourself focusing more and more on the way his hands moved, how sometimes he would crook up his pointer and middle finger while talking and making gestures. How he would bite his lip when deep in thought, or when listening to an interesting student contribution. Naturally, this motivated you to actually participate in a class for the first time in your life.

You were down bad.

Finally, after what seemed like both five seconds and five hours, you opened the door as quietly as you could to lecture hall 208. It creaked loudly and you silently cursed as half the class, and its instructor, turned to look at you. You met Professor Gavriel’s eyes. Mercifully, he just smiled, nodding once and then going back to the material. Unlike other professors, such as Professor Salvaterre, who would make a snide comment to humiliate you for showing up thirty minutes late, Professor Gavriel was more forgiving to tardiness.

Under your breath you sighed with relief, heading to the empty seats in the very back corner of the lecture hall – unusual for you, since you enjoyed taking a seat at the front, as close to the professor as possible. However, everywhere else except for about 10 seats in the back row was filled. Plunking your bag in the chair beside you, you got out your notebook, naturally having forgotten your laptop. Before you could scramble to get out your pens and frantically try to catch up on everything, you suddenly realized how stiflingly hot it was in the room. Your sprint to class hadn’t helped either, leaving your hoodie with sweat sticking to the inside.

Thinking nothing of it, you grabbed the bottom of your hoodie and pulled upwards, desperate to get it off. Suddenly, you felt the cool air of the room brush against your stomach and chest.

Your bare stomach and chest.

To your horror, the t-shirt you had thrown on underneath had gone staticky, sticking to the inside of the hoodie as you peeled it almost all the way off. And to make matters worse, you hadn’t bothered with a bra, so your bare breasts were on display. As quickly as possible, you yanked the hoodie over and off your head, making sure the rest of your shirt stayed on.

As you went to pull your shirt down, mortification punched you in the gut as you met the gaze of Professor Gavriel, who just happened to shift his eyes to the back far corner of the class at the very moment you elected to remove your hoodie.

And his gaze was not on your eyes.

You froze for a split second before yanking your t-shirt back down, covering your exposed chest once more. Heat flushed to your face from pure embarrassment, although luckily none of your classmates seemed to notice the mortifying scene.

None except for the fucking professor.

Those golden eyes stared at you for another moment, flashing for a moment with an expression you couldn’t quite pinpoint before he shifted his gaze elsewhere. You wanted nothing more than to dig a hole for yourself and crawl into it and die in shame. As much as you lusted after the professor, this was not the scenario in which you dreamed of seducing him.

Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your pen and did your best to focus for the remainder of the lecture.

As your shit luck would have it, Professor Gavriel called your name as you and the rest of the class were packing up and headed out the door.

“I’d like to speak with you for a moment, if you please.” He said, stuffing his folders into his leather satchel.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, throat already dry. You made your way down the steps towards the table where the blonde professor was standing. Most of the class had gone by now, the last few headed out the door.

Something simmered beneath his warm gaze – you prayed it wasn’t anger at your being late, or even worse, at your unintentional display. He rolled up the sleeves of his pale grey shirt, and you tried your best not to stare at those arms.

“Are you doing ok today?” The professor asked, placing his arms on the table and leaning on them.

“Sorry, Professor?” You blurted out. Your cheeks flushed, ready to receive a reprimanding for flashing your tits in the middle of class–

“You were quite late today,” He said, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Get that scared look off your face, dear, I’m not going to punish you for it. You’re one of my best students and you have a perfect attendance record, so I just wanted to see if you were alright.”

You practically let out a sigh of relief, albeit ignoring the way your toes curled as you imagined other ways of getting punished by the professor–

Shut the fuck up. You snapped at yourself. He’s your professor. And he’s like, twice your age. Stop it.

“I apologize for being late, sir,” You stuttered, shifting your weight. “I had a rough start to the morning.”

Professor Gavriel stared at you for a moment longer, that golden gaze boring into you almost teasingly as if he delighted in your discomfort. You knew deep down he had, in fact, noticed your blunder with the hoodie.

“Very well,” He said, straightening up. “Were you able to catch up on the material you missed from the beginning of class?”

“Yes, I already looked at the readings and took notes before class.” You admitted sheepishly. Your desire to impress and please the professor had gone so far that you found yourself getting ahead in class to prepare yourself for the lectures.

The smile that Professor Gavriel donned was almost innocent enough, save for the slight smirk to it and the next words he uttered.

“Atta girl.”

You completely froze, blood rushing to your cheeks at the phrase. Involuntarily, your thighs pressed together ever so slightly, a pathetic attempt to relieve the sensation between your legs. Just those two words, that praise alone, had turned you into a gawking mess–

The instructor let his smirk show more, as if he took notice of your body's reaction. Mercinfully, before you had to go through the pain of conjuring a response, the door opened and the next class began to file into the hall.

“Well, I’ve got a meeting to get to soon,” Professor Gavriel said, checking his watch and flinging his satchel over his shoulder. “I’ll walk you out.”

He gestured a hand out and you walked towards the door, passing him. Ever so-slightly, his hand brushed your lower back as he guided you through the mass of students. You weren’t sure you were breathing or if you even imagined his touch.

Stop it, You scolded yourself. It’s an innocent gesture. Your dad fucking does it. Get your head out of the gutter.

As you exited the classroom, you realized how much shit you were in.

Over the next two weeks, you began having a little fun. You ditched the sheer tights you wore under your skirts, opting to let your bare legs show instead. Lacy bras now covered your chest in front of plain ones, lifting your breasts up ever so slightly as your v-neck shirts got lower. Your clothes were by no means inappropriate, but just enough of a subtle change in your usual style to see how the professor would react.

To the rest of the class, the professor’s behaviour was relatively normal. Sometimes Gavriel would stumble over a word or two, or perhaps lose his train of thought, but kept composed enough that it did not seem unusual. You, however, knew what you were doing. You could see the way his throat bobbed when he looked at you in the front row, you leaning forward ever so slightly.

Honestly, you weren’t sure what you were doing. Sure, he was twice your age, but you were a few years over 18 anyways. You enjoyed this little game of yours, but didn’t know what you were expecting to get out of it. At night, you allowed your mind freedom to wander and daydream scenarios with the professor – Gavriel behind you over his desk and pounding into you, or those hands all over your ass as you straddled him and ground into his–

The sound of your name on the professor’s lips snapped you out of your daze. He was standing in front of you, stack of midterm papers in hand.

“I must apologize, I left your essay in my office,” He said, passing a paper to the student next to you. “Would you mind coming to my office hours at 5 to grab it?”

“Um, sure, professor.” You stuttered, slightly confused. Professor Gavriel’s office hours were at 3 usually, as he frequently complained nobody came to them. You didn’t have time to think about it though before he walked away to distribute the rest of the papers.

The rest of the day went extremely slow. You were practically jittering with anticipation as 4:55 rolled around and you made your way down the long corridor to Professor Gavriel’s office. Most of the doors were locked with the lights shut off, the majority of the instructors having left for the weekend by now. Heart racing, you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror one more time before heading out.

You wore a beige pleated skirt with nothing but panties underneath. Your shirt was a white, sculpt knit, deep v, cropped sweater with no sleeves – a golden lacy bra underneath to compliment the gold jewellery you wore around your neck. Your hair was clipped in a half-up half-down style, a few pieces left out to frame your face. It was an attractive outfit, one designed to match the tones of the professor.

You prayed that whatever happened, you didn’t make a clown of yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on Professor Gavriel’s door.

“Come in.” His voice sounded from within.

Trying not to shake with nerves, you opened the wooden door and strode into his office. The space was nice, shelves with old books and antiques strewn artfully across them. A couch was up against the wall, and towards the back of the office was Gavriel’s desk. It didn’t have much on it, just a few stacks of paper and pens. The instructor sat at his desk, the sleeves of his forest green button-up shirt rolled up in that manner that made your knees go weak. His golden hair was hanging loose around his face, and he looked up at you with those catlike eyes.

“Ah, hello my dear, have a seat” Professor Gavriel said, setting the papers aside. “Would you mind closing the door?”

You did so, practically hearing the thumping of your heart as you did so. Obediently, you sat down in the wooden chair that was placed in front of the desk across from the professor’s seat.

“You did quite well on your paper,” Professor Gavriel said, handing you back the document. He stood in front of you now, bracing his hands on the desk behind him as he leaned on it. “I would have liked a little more elaboration on the links between the external primary sources you brought forth and the secondary articles, but overall it was a very good paper. You picked a difficult topic and executed it rather eloquently.”

You tried not to glow as you stared at the paper. A 47.5/50 was written at the top, one of your best marks so far. Your professor’s praise washed over you and you relished in it, savouring the fact that he liked your work.

“Thank you, sir!” You exclaimed, gently putting the paper in your bag and dropping it back onto the floor.

Professor Gavriel smirked at you, that teasing darkness you had glimpsed right after the incident filling his golden eyes. For a moment, you sat in silence, gazing up at the professor towering over you less than a few feet away. Heat pooled between your legs as he did not break your stare.

“You like it, don’t you?” His voice dropped an octave, and your blood ran hot. The tone in which he was speaking would have brought you to your knees if you were standing. You were used to the lighthearted, gentle tone he used to address the class and read out the material – fuck, this was so different.

“Like what, professor?” You laced your voice with sweetness, trying to steady it. One last attempt at feigning innocence, you decided, just to make sure this was heading where you had only dreamed it would go.

“You’re a smart girl, don’t play dumb.” Professor Gavriel’s voice practically purred, and those golden eyes scanned your body with nothing but predatory intent. “You like it when I praise you, when I tell you how good you’ve been. Don’t you?”

Heart racing, you dropped your gaze to your hands rested on your knees. Part of you hated the way you lapped up his attention so easily – it was so, so wrong, having your professor who was old enough to be your father speak to you like this. But you secretly loved it, core tingling at the tone laced with dominance, forcing you to admit your deepest shames.

Firmly, but not enough to hurt, the professor’s hand grasped your chin and forced you to look up at him. “Answer me, darling.” He said.

You gulped. “Yes.” Your voice was barely more than a whisper. Gavriel chuckled. Rather than releasing your chin, his thumb made gentle soothing strokes across your cheek.

“I saw the way your body betrayed you when I said ‘atta girl’ to you two weeks ago,” He mused, cocking his head as he stared into your eyes. “I wonder what would have happened if I told you what a good girl you were? Hell, I bet you would have dropped to your knees and begged to suck my cock right there and then. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes.” Barely audible, your voice trembled at his words. Professor Gavriel knew how you liked his praise, he had caught onto it from the very beginning. You thought you were the one playing games with him this whole time – turns out you were just the naïve mouse that wandered straight into the cat’s claws. Gavriel hummed for a second. “Yes, what?” His eyes were like fire as he hungrily stared down at you.

“Yes daddy.” The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. It surprised you – after calling him ‘sir’ so many times, you would have thought that was the honorific you’d use for him. But nope, ‘daddy’ just felt so right. Clearly, the professor thought so too, as indicated by the groaning breath he let out that sent wetness to your core.

“Say that again.” He growled, grip tightening.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Stand up.”

You did as you were told, standing up as Gavriel’s grip was released and he kicked the chair to the side. Once the chair was removed, he stood back to admire you once again. Your trembling was gone at this point, all fears that you’d make a fool of yourself gone. With just two words, your professor was in the palm of your hand.

“Look at you, baby,” He sighed, walking around you to stand behind you. He rested his chin on the side of your head and placed his hands on your waist, pressing his muscular chest against your back. “So obedient. So eager to please daddy, aren’t you? I caught on to your little games, you know. You thought you could get away with teasing me like that, huh little one? I saw those gorgeous legs spread open when you noticed me looking, the way you looked up at me with those innocent eyes, as if you weren’t practically begging for me to bend you over my knee and mark that ass of yours until you couldn’t sit down?”

You whimpered, his warm breath in your ear sending shivers down your spine. His hands grazed up and down your sides, fingers brushing teasingly against your skin and through the fabric.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, darling?” He continued. “When you took off that hoodie I wanted to go over there and worship your body. It took everything in me to not get hard in the middle of class. Had to wait all the way until I got home before I could touch myself at the thought of those gorgeous tits.”

“Please…” Your voice was pathetic, but those feather light touches were driving you crazy.

“Please what, little one?” Gavriel murmured, pressing a light kiss to your ear but making no effort to move his hands.

“Please touch me, daddy.”

A dark chuckle sounded from behind you. “A reward for my good girl? As you wish, darling.”

His arms wrapped firmly around you as he pulled you in even closer, bending his head down to attack your neck with his lips. Instantly, you moaned at the sensation – he bit and kissed and sucked all up and down your sensitive neck. One large hand came up to grope your breast and your eyes rolled back into your head. Arching into his touch, you felt his hardness against your backside and nearly gasped.

He was packing, that’s for sure.

Every nerve ending in your body was set aflame as your professor touched you, his lips attached to your neck as if you were a drug he was getting high on. You bit your lip to contain your noises, not wanting to disturb any instructors who may be lingering. If any of them caught onto what was happening….

“This needs to go.” Gavriel growled, tugging at your shirt. You lifted your arms up, allowing him to pull the article of clothing off of you.

You were left in your gold, lacy bra, picked out to match the colour of his hair – this did not go unnoticed.

“As much as I appreciate this, little one” He ran his finger over the lacy edge. “I’ve been dreaming about those tits of yours for weeks now, and will not wait a moment longer.”

With expert ease and experience, Gavriel unclipped your bra and let it fall to the floor before turning you around to face him. He remained composed, a stark contrast to your shaking mess, but his eyes darkened like you’d never seen before as he stared at your chest.

Swearing softly, Gavriel leaned down and took your left breast in his mouth and let his right hand encompass your other one. You cried out as he swirled his tongue around your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he sucked harshly. His other hand was gentle yet dominant, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure.

You cried out, tipping your head back. This was better than anything you had dreamed of. Your professor’s head was latched onto your chest as if it were his salvation, removing his mouth from your nipple with a lewd popping noise as he switched to the other one. Heat pooled at your centre like nothing ever had before – you were practically aching with need. You tried to rub your thighs together, but Gavriel pushed his free hand between them and pried your legs open, denying you any attempts at easing that pressure.

“Please, daddy.” You weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point. You couldn't decide which you wanted – his hands, his tongue, or his cock.

Mercifully, Gavriel seemed to listen, for he stood up and wrapped his arms under your thighs and hoisted you up. You whined as your centre came in contact with his hardness, wiggling your hips to try and get more contact.

Before you could achieve this, Gavriel planted you on top of his desk, sweeping his arm across it and sending papers flying. He then resumed his attack on your breasts, causing you to protest.

“Please, I need more.” Gods, you sounded pathetic but couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“What do you need, little one?” He murmured against your chest. “You only need to tell daddy what you want, and you will get it.”

Cheeks flushing from embarrassment, you mumbled, “Touch me.”

A low chuckle. “I am touching you, darling.”

If you were more composed you would have rolled your eyes. So the kind, content professor had a sadistic side, it seemed – a side that got off on seeing you begging before him.

“Please touch me down there.” You bucked your hips for emphasis.

“Down where?”

You couldn’t fucking believe it. Mustering the courage, you finally spoke the words he clearly wanted to hear.

“Touch my pussy, daddy.” You cried out.

A hum of approval sounded from the professor. “There’s a good girl.”

Gavriel finally eased his torture on your chest, moving his hands below your skirt. They rubbed up and down on your thighs for a minute before reaching around to unzip the fabric at the back. You lifted your hips up to assist him, and he tossed the pale fabric behind him.

“Aw, you’ve practically soaked through your panties,” Gavriel crooned. “Is that all for daddy?”

“All for you.” Was your breathless reply.

Instead of grabbing your undergarments, the golden-haired professor kneeled and leaned forward, taking them in his teeth. Slowly, he manoeuvred them down your legs, hot breath teasing your skin until they were discarded and you were left completely naked before your professor.

“What a pretty little pussy,” Gavriel spread your legs, leaning forward to inhale your scent. “All dripping for your professor. Tell me, baby, did you imagine my tongue, hands, or cock ruining this perfect cunt?”

“Yes.” You blurted out, unable to think of anything else. This caused him to chuckle darkly, those golden eyes gleaming.

“All of them it is, then.” Were his final words before he slipped a finger inside of you with ease.

You moaned loudly at the welcome intrusion, even more so as he added a second one a minute later. He curled them in that way he does when gesturing during a lecture, making you see stars. Pumping in and out at a steady pace, Gavriel leaned forward to encompass your clit in his lips and teeth.

Your hand found your mouth and you bit down on it to keep from screaming.

He was so, so fucking good.

Those expert hands knew just how fast to go, exactly which spots to hit while that skilled tongue flicked your bundle of nerves. He was so much better than any of the other males you had been with, a testament to his age and experience. It was erotic, the sight of your professor kneeling before you, hands and mouth buried between your legs as you moaned above him. Your hand found his golden locks and pulled, causing him to growl and double his efforts.

You knew you wouldn’t last long like this. You had never reached your climax with anyone you had been with, as they were so focused on their own pleasure they forgot about yours. But Gavriel? The man was feasting on you like he was starved, focusing so intently on making you feel good that not once had he attempted to find any sort of relief for his straining cock. His tongue danced among your folds as if he knew every movement and touch that would make your body sing.

You inched towards your release, curling your toes and arching your back. Gavriel shifted, moving your legs so they rested on his shoulders. The new angle had you murmuring his name on your lips like a prayer, and time ceased to exist for the next few minutes.

Just as you were about to let go, Gavriel pulled away suddenly, leaving you high and dry.

“What the fuck?” You snapped, voice wavering in anger as the pleasure you desperately sought for weeks was denied.

Gavriel chuckled, standing up and unbuttoning his shirt. Your anger cooled as your mouth began watering at the sight before you. Well-defined muscles were revealed as he slipped the fabric off of his skin. The left side of his torso, his heart, and the area from his rib cage to his hipbone were all covered in tattoos. He looked like a god amongst men, blonde hair tousled from being in your grip.

He unbuckled his belt and removed his trousers and underwear in one go, leaving him completely naked before you.

Fuck.

His cock was erect, standing proudly and practically red with need. He was extremely long, curved in a way that you knew would be able to reach the deepest places inside of you. Instinctively, you reached for him, but he stopped you.

“There will be plenty of time later for you to wrap that pretty mouth around my cock,” Gavriel chided, easing you off the table and holding you upright. “But for now, I need you to fall apart when I’m inside of you. Now turn around and bend over, and let daddy make you feel so good.”

Still trembling from your denied pleasure, and partially from his words, you turned around and bent yourself over the desk, clutching the side of it and arching your back for him. A hand gripped your hip, while Gavriel used his other hand to slowly push himself inside of you. He met little resistance, thanks to his efforts earlier, but you moaned at the stretch.

Once Gavriel was inside you fully, his free hand snaked up your spine and gripped the back of your neck. You gasped at the sensation as he leaned over you and whispered in your ear.

“See how good Daddy can make you feel?” He murmured into your ear. “You’re mine. Nobody else can touch you like I can, isn’t that right baby?”

You whimpered, nodding against the desk. Whatever happened after this, you knew that your professor had utterly ruined you.

“Tell me what you want.” Gavriel’s voice was a soft growl.

You didn’t hesitate this time. “I want you to fuck me, daddy.” You gasped. “I want you to make me fall apart on your cock, I want you to fill me up. Please, please I’m yours daddy just fuck me.”

Satisfied, Gavriel leaned back up but kept his hand on the back of your neck. He eased out of you slowly, but pushed back in with a calculated gentleness, rather than slamming into you like you had expected. He was taking his time, making sure he wasn’t causing you any pain. You relished in the sensation for several minutes as he set a comfortable pace, but found yourself wanting more very quickly.

“Harder.” You whined and turned around to look at him, hoping it would spur him on.

“I don’t want to hurt you, baby.” Gavriel grunted, but from the look in his eyes you could tell how much he was holding back.

“Please fuck me harder,” You rocked your hips. “I can take it, daddy.”

With the sugary sweetness and desperation from which your lips uttered that last word, you could feel his restraint slipping.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, goddammit, now please fuck–” You didn’t get a chance to finish your final sentence before Gavriel slammed into you with a force that sent the desk rocking. You gasped, only getting a second to recover before his grip on your neck tightened and he thrust in and out of you at a relentless pace.

This is what you’d been dreaming of. Your gorgeous history professor losing his composure and fucking you like an animal on his desk, grasping your neck with a possessiveness that made your entire body tingle.

“Oh, yes...” You breathed into the desk, clinging on for dear life. You moaned incoherently, listening to the sounds Gavriel was making from behind you. He was grunting heavily, eyes wild as he fucked you like your lives depended on it. You were surely going to have bruises tomorrow that you would wear proudly.

It didn’t take long for your release to approach again, and your legs began to shake. Sensing this, Gavriel released your neck and moved his hand to your clit, rubbing circles on it furiously. It was enough to send you over the edge, vision going askew as your entire body shook with release. Gavriel followed seconds later, spilling inside of you and sending your senses into a frenzy.

Panting, you both rode out your highs for a few minutes. The room was spinning, having had the best orgasm of your life. Gently, Gavriel flipped you over so you were on your back. He bent down and kissed you, and it was better than what you dreamed of. His lips were unbelievably soft, kissing you with a tenderness as his tongue traced the outline of your own lips. Still shaking, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in as close as possible.

Gavriel helped you stand up, making sure you were okay before fetching your clothes. They had been thrown to various parts of his office, and you thanked the heavens that he had gone to fetch them for you because you knew you needed a few more minutes before you could walk. You reached out to grab your bra and underwear, but he withheld them.

“I need those.” You said, holding out your hand.

“So greedy,” Gavriel purred. He walked to his desk, opening the bottom drawer and placing your undergarments in them. “These shall be mine now. A reminder that you belong to me, little one. Maybe if you keep being a good girl, you’ll get them back.”

Snorting under your breath, you put on your skirt and top. Your thighs were slick with the juices of both of your releases, and you scanned the room for a towel or something you could use to wipe yourself down.

“No, darling,” Gavriel chided, tawny eyes glinting. He had changed back into his clothes and was sitting in his chair again. “Leave it. I want you to remember on your way home exactly how I made you feel, how I shattered you beneath me like no other male could.”

Blood rushed to your face at the possessiveness, at the thought of journeying home with your inner thighs coated in your professor’s release. But another part of you was ready to pounce back onto Gavriel, ready for more.

“You said there would be more time later to suck your cock.” You purred, sauntering back over to his desk and batting your eyelashes at him.

Gavriel hummed, resting his head on his hand. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

You leaned over top of the desk, lips almost brushing against his as if you were going to kiss him. He fell for it, lunging forward ready for another round – but you had other plans. You moved your lips to his ear instead.

“Better luck next time, daddy.” You whispered, taking one second to admire his gaping face before spinning on your heel and strutting out of his office, shutting the door behind you,

You knew you were going to pay for that, big time.

...part 2?

#throne of glass #gavriel x reader #gavriel x reader smut #gavriel smut #throne of glass smut #tog #tog smut #sjm #fae #amara's professor series

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queentala · 2 years

Note

Oh hey, (i'm sorry if my english is a shit, english is not my first language) you can do a imagine of Lorcan Salvaterre x f!reader? I like him and i never find one imagine of him.

Thank youuu ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Note: I’m sorry for all those who requested smuts but it was NNN and ya know... Plus because of school I don’t even have time to sleep so probably I won’t post much before the Christmas break. But I’m answering to all of your requests. It’s taking me long but I’ll do it, I swear <3 And for now here you have Lorcan x reader 8k words long roller coaster.

‼️Important info: I rewrote the last scene as I came to the conclusion my first draft was kinda unreal and too sweet. I mean, don’t worry it’s still fluff but 500 words longer. So go and read it

Death and Mist

Lorcan Salvaterre x f!reader

Summary: from two children meeting in a dark alley of Doranelle through 500 years of friendship and hate to... see yourself

Warnings: mention of sex and rape, tortures, blood, few swears, trauma

Words: 7952

Note: spoilers for KoA!!!; this is au where Maeve is captured and overthrown by Doranelle without participation of Aelin. Just the cadre.

The night was chilly but beautiful. Bright stars and full moon illuminated your way as you wander through the city. You wrapped your thin coat tighter around your body when you felt shivers again. Your clothes were worn out and bit too small as you grow taller lately, definitely not enough to protect you from upcoming winters’ cold. The constant rumbling of your stomach didn't helped either. All stores were closed because of some holiday so you hadn’t had a chance to steal anything to eat. All those days without food slowly began to make themselves felt and seen because you felt like you were about to pass out at any moment and your ribs were more visible than usual.

You passed one of dark streets of Doranelle when smell of blood hit your nose. Your hand immediately wandered to the old dagger hidden under your cloak. Closing your eyes you reached for your power which you still learned to control. Power old and mysterious but fascinating, that allowed you to completely vanish, become impalpable and move around without revealing your presence. A gray mist appeared around your legs and started fawning at them like a cat, comforting and guarding you at once. You melted into it. Suddenly your body had no longer weight or any form. No limits. Of course you still felt your legs and arms and everything else. You could walk, run, move things and talk but no one was able to acknowledge your presence.

Despite being invisible your steps were very careful and quiet as if somebody might hear you. Delving further down the alley you heard little grunts of pain. Turning the corner you saw a young boy. He was about thirteen or fourteen, definitely around your age. His black hair was dirty and neglected and so were his clothes. Your eyes wandered to his lifted shirt and awful wound on his stomach. It was coated with dried blood mixed with dust. From experience you knew this cannot end up well.

You started walking towards the boy. Usually you stayed away from literally everybody but seeing him struggling with the wound that might be deadly if not cleaned and provided you decided to go out of your comfort zone.

“Can I help you somehow?” you asked, standing few steps away from the boy. Your voice was quiet and soft but confident. His scent hit your nose and you realized he is only half Fae.

What the heck are you doing in Doranelle, city where only pure-bloods Faes are allowed?! How are you still alive?

The mysterious boy immediately grabbed his own dagger and started looking around in all directions with confusion written in his onyx eyes. That’s when you realized you are still wrapped in your mist. With one thought you let it slide off your body to your feet, revealing your presence. With the fog billowing around you, skinny face and messy hair you must have looked like a spectrum because the boy’s dark skin turned paler as he slightly moved away from you.

“Sorry, I didn’t meant to scare you.” You looked down with sad frown and apologetic smile. “I just wanted to help... Your wound needs to be cleaned and prov...”

“I’m good.” You were interrupted. You lifted your eyes and looked at the boy sitting against the wall, staring at you with angry and annoyed look. “Go away.”

For a moment you truly thought about turning around and walking away but something in your head were telling you to help this stubborn child. Instead taking a step back you took a step forward. Kneeling down beside black haired boy you took out of your bag clean cloth and a bottle of water. The demi-Fae opened his mouth to protest but you already started cleaning his ripped skin. Using your magic you managed to quicken the healing and bandaged his wound with some material you had in your bag.

“At least now you won’t die from infection.” You stood up and crossed your arms over your chest. The boy just sat there, blankly staring at the broken lantern in front of him. Feeling you won’t even get a “thank you”, you started walking away but were stopped by the boy’s words.

“You look like a skeleton... I have some food.” You looked over your shoulder and crossed your eyes with the onyx ones. The boy pulled out half a loaf of bread out of his bag and nodded for you to sit beside him. So you did. What else you had to do anyways?

You ate in silence for a few minutes, surrounded only by moonlight, your mist and sounds of the sleeping city.

“Thank you” you said finishing your food. It wasn’t much but enough for you to feel better. The boy still kept silent so clearly you were supposed to keep this conversation going. “What are you doing here?”

“My mother is dead. My father is an asshole. Basically, I’m trying to survive.” his voice was raspy, with no emotions. The boy looked into your eyes and you smiled sadly.

“Well... it might be easier if you had someone by your side, you know.” He raised one of his eyebrows and shoot you a look that was saying “are you stupid or dumb” but quickly you added: “You need somebody to take care of your wounds because you clearly lack those skills.”

“Okay, but if you get lost, I’m not even searching for you.” Your new comrade sighed and rested his head against the wall closing his eyes.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You said and closed your eyes as well.

“Lorcan.”

***

“Hey! Look what I got!” You ran into the abandoned cottage that you and Lorcan used as your hideaway lately. It was small and old but properly insulated so it was enough. Plus there was forest not far away where you could hunt and train and a lake from where you had clear water.

A twenty-few years old, tall demi-Fae was cleaning his blades out of blood in the kitchen. So he was hunting. Or killing somebody but you didn’t really cared. His eyes wandered to your happy face and a small smile appeared on his face as well - a rare miracle that happened only when you were around. You put two big boxes you just got in front of him. Lorcan put down his knife and looked inside them. A sparkle in his eyes appeared when he saw all those food, clothes, weapon and purses with golden coins.

“How did you get it?!” Surprise in his voice made your smile even bigger. Lorcan looked through your new property with disbelief on his face.

“I have my ways.” You waved your hand and took a strawberry out of the basket with fruits.

“You’re amazing!”

The way Lorcan looked at you made you proud. Through those few last years you grew closer saving each other’s asses and wandering around the country together. You helped each other go through the Settling and learn how to control and use your magic that turned out to be much more powerful than you expected in both cases. After few years the two of you discovered that you’re carranam what made you even more powerful. By helping this stubborn kid in a dark alley few years ago you earned a true best friend. You perfectly remembered the words Lorcan said to you that night. Okay, but if you get lost, I’m not even searching for you. Now you knew that if you went missing he would tear the world apart to find you. And you would do the same for him.

“I have to tell you something” Lorcan said turning his eyes towards you, his face turning impossibly serious, making you worried. You leaned against the wall and prepared yourself for whats to come. “We caught Maeve’s eye...”

Your hands dropped to your sides and face turned pale. If Maeve knew about your actions in Doranelle you will be dead by tomorrow. In fact, it was obvious that sooner or later she would find out about two Faes with strange magic that run around her country causing trouble but when it finally happened...

“She is impressed with our powers and wants us in her army.” Lorcan finished and hearing that you fell to the floor. Your butt ached as you stared at your friend trying to proceed his words.

“Wait wait wait... Maeve. Queen of Doranelle.” Lorcan nodded, amused by your reaction. “She wants us to swear the Blood Oath and serve her as warriors.” One more nod confirming your words. You raised from the floor and threw yourself into Lorcan’s arms. He hesitated for a moment but finally hugged you back. “Oh gods...” you couldn’t believe this. Serving Maeve was the greatest honor possible plus it ensured living in luxury and glory.

“You know that means we have a lot of training ahead of us, and then a lot of wars and battles to fight. Our life will revolve around death.” You stepped away from Lorcan’s arms and looked at his sharp facial features.

“I know but on the other hand, can you imagine yourself as someone else other than warrior? Our powers... We have so much potential Lorcan, we can be legends! Aren’t you tired of living like this?” you pointed to your surroundings. “Besides, you have never shied away from fight or violence. Why are you so uncertain now?”

“I just wouldn’t want to loose you in a battle.” Lorcan walked over to you so you had to rise your head to look into his eyes. Fucking giraffe. “You’re the only person I like and I truly wouldn’t want to endure the shits of this life without you.”

“Aw... You’re cute. Big, scary Lorcan is getting soft” you laughed and one glance at Lorcan’s annoyed face made you laugh even harder.

“I changed my mind. Perish there.” He rolled his eyes but you could see sparkles of joy in them.

“Seriously, Lorcan. I promise we will fight side by side in every battle. And that from every war we go to together, we'll come back together, okay?” your hand traveled down to latch with his. The man only nodded and squeezed your hand. “Great! Now, let’s celebrate the new chapter in our life!” Grabbing one of the purses with golden coins you started pulling Lorcan towards the door. “We’re getting drunk tonight!” You squealed and your best friend chuckled behind you.

***

Just like you suspected, taking the Blood Oath and serving Maeve was one of the best choices in your life so far. The queen ordered to subject the two of you to the toughest training and soon no one could compare to your dexterity and cunning or to Lorcan’s strength and speed. Also you discovered new possibilities of your magic. Not only you could hide in your mist but also travel through it, see things very distant and even sometimes create illusions. It didn’t take long for you and Lorcan to become one of Maeve’s elite warriors alongside with Gavriel and Vaughan who also were above average.

The four of you won war after war, destroyed city after city and made the strongest kingdoms kneel before your queen. At the age of 100 you were already drowning in riches and glory, known all over the world as Spectrum, a phantom bringing death.

Lorcan fell madly in love with Maeve and like a good puppy fulfilled all of her orders what you did use to keep teasing him all the time. You only get out of it alive because Lorcan treated you as a sister. Quickly it turned out that war is his natural habitat and with his gift from Hellas himself, Lorcan Salvaterre became the most feared man on this planet. And the most grumpy at the same time...

“Hey, Mr. Grim Asshole! I’ve heard you had so shitty humor today that even Cairn prefers to avoid you so here I come to bless you with my glorious personality!” You crashed into Lorcan’s chambers in your silky night clothes and with two bottles of wine in hand.

“If I were you, I also would avoid me.” Your best friend was sitting on the couch with legs stretched out on a table, head thrown back and eyes closed. He didn’t even bother to look at you when you sat by his side, passing him one of the bottles.

“You know I like to risk my life” Lorcan cracked an eye open and took wine from you. On one breath he drank a third of its contents. You stared at him with pursed lips. “Yup, you really have shitty day.” You knew there’s no use in asking him what’s wrong, he’ll tell you if he wants to. Opening your bottle you made yourself more comfortable on the couch and drank in comforting silence.

It didn’t last long as the warrior finished his bottle within seconds and sighed deeply. And then happened something you would never expect. Lorcan laid down on the couch with his head in your lap.

He never was a person who liked physical contacts other than sex and surely he never showed affection towards anybody. Even with you he limited himself to “arm over shoulder” or when you haven’t seen each other for a long time he would shortly hug you but nothing more (and let’s pay attention to the fact that you were the person he was the most affectionate with). That’s why seeing Lorcan like this... so ejected... made your heart ache.

“I told Maeve about my feelings and offered her an affair” he said quietly and you only sighed. No more explanation was needed as you perfectly knew how it ended. Putting your bottle down, you started running your fingers through Lorcan’s black hair, trying to give him as much comfort possible without crossing his limits. “You’re not going to say anything?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking up at you.

“What do you want me to say...? You know I think romance is not worth all this effort.” Your nails delicately scratched the warrior’s scalp what he clearly enjoyed cause his eyes closed once again and his tensed muscles relaxed.

“Oh yeah? And what about this blonde dude you’ve been seeing lately?” Small smirk appeared on Lorcan’s lips what made you also smile.

“Turns out he’s awfully narcissistic. Plus he doesn’t satisfies me in bed.”

“From what I’ve heard, other women don’t complain about him. So hard to please you?”

“Well, it’s not my fault that I’m always horny child and kinky motherfucker!” At those words both of you erupted with loud laugh.

Lorcan still laid with his head nuzzled into your lap for a long time. Playing with his hair you wondered when was the last time he had experienced love and affection. Or maybe it was his first one?

His breath was calm and steady, for a moment you thought he drifted away when he spoke quietly. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you asked, your eyes heavy as you studied his calm, handsome face.

“For being there for me.”

“I will always be there for you. No matter what.”

***

“Y/N betrayed me. She betrayed us all.” Maeve spoke as she stormed into the meeting room. Her steps were fast and furious, black robes fluttered behind her, making Maeve look as if she was surrounded by shadows.

Lorcan stood still on his place, not quite understanding his queen’s words. You would never betray anybody, especially your Queen and country. Especially HIM! After all, he saw you at breakfast in the great hall yesterday smiling and laughing with other warriors like always. Besides, how did you betrayed Maeve? You’re bloodsworn to her, it’s impossible to even plot against her and even more so to deceive her. What did you do?!

“I don’t understand. What do you mean Y/N betrayed?” Rowan was the only one who spoke as everybody else were too surprised to do so. Lorcan suspected they can’t believe in their friend’s betrayal either.

“Several of my powerful and very valuable books had been stolen, Y/N’s treasury was emptied of a great amount of money, a lot of her things disappeared alongside with herself. I sent ten spies after her. All of them are dead.” Maeve’s knuckles turned white from gripping the edge of the table so hard. “She doesn’t react on commands I send her through the Blood Oath and because of her goddamn powers no one can track this little bitch down!” she finished with a furious scream, sending wall of darkness behind her causing all windows to shatter.

No one dared to say anything. Not even Gavriel, who always tried to smooth things over. The four warriors just sat there, hoping for it to be just a sick dream. They all loved and treated you like a sister. You were the only one Vaughan spared no words to. The only one that could make Gavriel chill out and laugh. Despite knowing Rowan for only half a century you two protected each other like siblings. And Lorcan... You were the only one he loved. His best friend, his sister, his carranam. The only woman he never looked at in a sexual way. The friend that had his back in every battle. The person he could always count on, no matter time, place or circumstances. You were his safe place. And now... you left him with nothing.

“What are we doing about her?” The silence was broken by Vaughan. Someone had to ask this question but no one wanted to hear the answer. If Maeve order them to track Y/N down and kill her...

“You do nothing.” Maeve dropped into a chair. “I will figure it out how to get to her but you stay out of this.” Wave of a hand meant the meeting is over. The four warriors turned to leave the room when their Queen spoke once more. “Y/N was one of the best. Better find me a worthy replacement for her.”

It took a long time for Lorcan to accept this information. And when he finally did, he went furious.

How could you do this to him?! How could you left him without a word, betray him?! After all those centuries together... Did it all really meant nothing to you? He showed you the part of his soul no one other had seen. He let you care for him and he really cared for you! And when he finally started to let you more and more into his heart, into the part he could never accept and always denied, you destroyed everything in one day. Lorcan wanted to hate you. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t. He lost his only ray of light, so if he can’t hate you, he will hate everyone else.

Every single time he went to war, Lorcan turned to his right where you should have stand only to see Gavriel or Vaughan or Rowan. Balls hosted by Maeve weren’t the same without you, glowing in your dress and looking like a goddess. Long adventures felt boring when you wasn’t riding by his side. Every time he passed the couch in his chambers he saw your smiling face and felt your loving touch. Oh how perfectly he remembered that night. How much he wanted to stay in your embrace forever. The morning after when he woke up in the same position and saw you sleeping above him and realized he wouldn’t mind this view every morning for the rest of his life.

Nightmares woke him up at nights. Most often you were tortured, screaming for a dear life when your captors subjected you to such horrible tortures that even Lorcan had never heard of them. Sometimes you just sat or laid there, all destroyed and exhausted and he had to watch you slowly dying. Other nights the heartless warrior once more experienced all of his best memories with you, the ones where he was truly happy. He’d see you laughing and smiling... because of him, filling his heart with pleasant warmth but then you were ripped away from him and he was left clod and alone.

During those nights he would pull out of the deepest parts of his wardrobe your shirt which he stole from your chambers after your betrayal. With his nose buried into the material that slowly started to loose your scent Lorcan stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to chase away those awful dreams.

But if he only knew they were real...

***

Maeve was a Valg.

One time during searching for information about strange creatures that terrorized Doranelle’s mountains you came across chapter devoted to demons called Valgs. Being pretty curious person you started reading about them and soon you reached out for more books like this, getting fixed in more and more.

Everyone always told you that you’re very clever girl. And they were right, of course. Connecting dots in your head, the conclusions came to your mind. Dark magic, life much longer than any other Fae’s, all those legends... Maeve was a Valg. Queen of Valgs even.

Knowledge is a weapon, that’s true but it can also be the end of a person. One look into your mind and she knew that you know. The moment a wall of darkness slammed into you, you were sure that you won’t see light ever again.

Sometimes you screamed when your bones were being broken, your skin ripped off, body burned and pierced or stretched. Sometimes you just accepted what they have done to you. There were nights when men that tortured you came to your cell but with other intentions. Maeve accepted it. Indeed, it was even she who offered it to them. “She wouldn’t want to refuse any pleasure to always horny child and kinky motherfucker” as she said.

She didn’t wanted to kill you. Your magic was too valuable to be wasted. You still served her as a spy but from the cell as your power allowed you to see things anywhere you wanted, no matter where you were. Maeve kept you here because it would be too risky to have you on freedom. Not cause you would reveal her secret, you were bloodsworn to her, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. But beacuse someone might pull it out of you against your will. Tortures were meant to weaken you and your mental health. Your magic was powerful and clever so if not them, you could have escaped. Maeve discovered this when one night you were so furious you almost broke the oath. Since then you wore iron spikes pierced through your hands to limit your power, folded and melted on both sides so no one could take them off.

Somedays Maeve visited you and told you stories of what your friends did and the wars they had won. Of course, she was telling you this while watching you being tortured but she never really minded (you could tell by the plates with snacks by her side).

And so the days passed. Then months. And years. Decades. Centuries. Or maybe just days...? At the begging you didn’t wanted to scream. Thanks to your training and experience you lasted very long without even the quietest grunt. But then you realized you’re never getting free. Nothing had a point anymore so you just broke, screaming at the top of your lungs. Praying to gods to send someone to get you out of here. To let Lorcan find you. Lorcan. Lorcan, Lorcan, Lorcan...

“Yesterday your mate brought three ladies to his bed, can you believe it? I have to admit they all were very pretty.” Maeve leaned back on golden-black couch and took a sip from her glass, enjoying the influence that this one unique word has on you.

The pool of your blood painted white marble floor dark red. The whole cell was made of dazzlingly bright stone. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting light on the walls and making your eyes ache. The shrill scream echoed through the chamber again as another muscle in your thigh was suddenly severed, the sharp blade making its way to your bone and scratching it. You would probably vomit because of this feeling if you had anything in your stomach.

“What a shame you can’t experience the feeling of sleeping with Lorcan. The whole Doranelle agrees that he is a sex god.” The queen stood up and slowly walked toward the altar to which you were chained, avoiding the fresh blood on the floor. “But don’t worry my dear, I made sure to get you company for the evening.” Her pale hand caressed your wet cheek, making you flinch. Maeve smiled ominously at that and turned to the warrior torturing you. “Don’t forget about the other leg.” she motioned with her chin to your untouched yet left thigh. “And maybe I'll go whip Lorcan. In fact, I haven't done it for a long time...” Dreamed Maeve as if she was making a Yulemas gift list.

“No...Please, no.” you managed to choke out the three words between your sobs. It was quiet and hopeless, but your instinct screamed at you to do anything to protect Lorcan, even if it meant begging Maeve.

When she first told you that your childhood best friend is in fact your mate, you were sure the queen is just playing with you. You have always loved Lorcan but only like a brother and never more. But then one night Maeve brought to the chamber one of her magic mirrors; the one that allowed to see things happening somewhere else. In it you saw HIM, tied to the lashing pole, already shirtless and sweaty. And when the whip landed on his back, when the drops of his blood splashed the floor and low grunt of pain left his mouth, you had felt it. His pain, his emotions, his existence. A bridge began to form in your soul. The one that meant to connect your life with his. You started running over it. Run towards Lorcan, desiring at all costs to help him and free him from the pain to which the queen whom he so blindly loved had condemned to but... it stopped midway. You were standing in the middle of the chasm, staring at the black, cold shadows on the other side that had no idea you are there. You felt him. You knew. But he didn’t.

Since that moment, torturing Lorcan and making you watch became Maeve’s favorite entertainment. Every time you begged her to stop hurting him for your sake. To torture you more instead. You knew it won’t work anyway. She will whip him to make you suffer even more but mostly important - because she can. Because she is a heartless monster.

“Oh, come on! Little pain never killed anybody.” Maeve leaned over your face and her devilish smile got even wider. “Besides, Lorcan will bear everything I tell him to. You know why?” Her hot breath tickled your ear, making all your still not teared muscles tense in a defensive way. “Because your mate, loves me, not you.” She straightened herself and nodded at the black haired warrior that looked like Lorcan so so much. “Don’t worry, I will let you watch. See you soon my dear!” Maeve chirped and left the chamber that was your cell for the rest of eternity.

Another screams of pain left your mouth as the man moved to your left leg and started skinning it with sparkles of madness in his eyes.

***

“Okay, I was at Mistward today and Emrys had told me few interesting stories.” Fenrys walked into the training area with his usual smirk, making Lorcan and Connall roll their eyes. “Can someone tell me who the heck was Y/N and why I haven’t heard of her?”

At the name of his former friend Lorcan tensed. The name he tried to forget but never could.

“She was a two-faced bitch and you haven’t heard of her because you’re a moron” Lorcan snarled with anger and throw another dagger at the training dummy.

“You’re an asshole that’s a fact but you definitely have to work on your taunts because they suck.” White Wolf crossed his arms and smiled proudly to himself. “That rhymed, heh. But really, what happened? I’ve heard that this Y/N or Spectrum, as someone prefers, was a nice chick. Did she really killed off the whole castle with only one knife? I mean kill few people with a knife is nothing special but few hundreds is a fuc...” Fenrys felt silent as the dagger Lorcan had in his hand a second ago flew past his head.

With four big steps the dark warrior stood in front of the wolf, holding him by his neck. “Listen you little shit. Say one more word about her and you can say goodbye to your pretty face. Y/N was the best of the bests but turns out she also was a fake bitch. You’re here only because she betrayed our queen and she needed replacement but still you’ll always be her poor imitation so don’t you even dare to say her name.” Lorcan’s words were full of venom and hate that even the sly smirk disappeared from Fenrys’ face.

Lorcan let go of his neck and started walking towards the castle with anger strongly felt in his scent.

“Did he love her?” Asked Connall when Lorcan had disappeared from their sight.

“Bold of you to assume this fucker can feel emotions like this” Fenrys rolled his eyes and took his bow and arrows.

“Y/N and Lorcan grew up together on the streets of Doranelle. They had only each other.” Spoke Gavriel who were cleaning his swords. “She was the only person Lorcan cared about. He loved her that’s for sure but he loved her much more than he wanted to admit.”

“By the pain in his eyes I would say he still does.” Fenrys sighed and shoot the first arrow.

***

Maeve was dead. The White Wolf killed her himself. Not without a reason of course. Turns out the queen Lorcan served for almost five hundreds years was a monster from the other world. Rumors spread quickly so it had only taken two days for the whole Doranelle to turn against her. So... She’s dead. And Lorcan had no idea what to do with this fact.

Sellene Whitethorn took the throne few days later. She was cunning, strong, smart and devoted. Most definitely she will be a good queen. That’s why Lorcan didn’t hesitated much before swearing her the Blood Oath. After all he was swearing to protect his country, his home.

Days and weeks passed, various changes came into force as the whole court helped cleaning up Maeve’s mess she had left behind. Together with the rest of his cadre, Lorcan sat in the meeting room discussing new setting of the guards in the palace and the city with his new queen when two warriors came in.

“Your Majesty.” Said one bowing in front of white-haired female. Behind him the other man held one of Maeve’s old spies. “I think you would like to see this.” Sellene stood up slowly with uncertainty but curiosity in her green eyes and motioned the man to lead.

They all went deeper and deeper into the dungeons, until finally Lorcan realized that he had no idea that such a places in the castle existed. They passed corner after corner, constantly delving deeper into dark corridors until they stood in front of big iron doors. Lorcan’s magic stepped back as he pushed them open. Behind them he saw a short corridor with two iron gates on the right and two on the left.

“What the hell is this place?” Fenrys asked in wonder as he scanned the high ceiling.

“A private prison where Maeve kept people she hadn’t even told us about.” Answered the lion. His hands wandered on the iron door surface before pushing them open.

“Three of them are empty” said one of the two warriors that discovered this place. “But the second on the left... Sealed for good. We have no idea how to open them.”

Lorcan walked towards said door. There was no lock or handle, just flat iron. His magic hid even deeper whispering to its owner to step back but something was telling Lorcan to open those doors. That inside is something important.

The dark warrior closed his eyes and focused, thinking of all the ways he could get inside. Maybe it was Hellas, maybe other god or maybe something else but in front of his eyes he saw a mark. His hand absentmindedly took the knife he had strapped to his thigh and cut his palm. Lorcan felt everyone’s eyes on himself as he soaked his finger in blood and started drawing the mark on door.

When he finished, the mark started glowing and the sound of the doors unlocking could be heard. Behind him as always stood Gavriel and Rowan with swords ready. Lorcan also took his sword in hand but dropped it as soon as he pushed the door open.

A huge hall made entirely of marble could have been beautiful if not the blood covering half of the floor and walls or multiple torture machines and instruments all over the room. Wait a moment... This blood. This smell.

Lorcan’s eyes landed on curled up figure chained to the wall. His heartbeat stopped when he saw the state she’s in. Skin and bones, there was no fat nor meat or muscles on her. She was left naked in this cold, stone cell, her skin having very unhealthy color. And all those wounds...

“Y/N...” It was a cry of relief and fear. Lorcan ran to your side within seconds, sounds of dropped swords and footsteps meant that his friends did the same.

He wanted to touch you, to scoop you into his arms and never let go. He wanted to protect you with his whole existence from everything and everybody. But as soon as his fingertips met your skin you kicked and flinched, fear immediately appearing in your scent. Little whimper of pain left your dried throat as even the slightest move caused you an unbelievable pain.

“Y/N/N, hey. It’s me, Lorcan. Hey, you know I would never hurt you” he whispered when you started to shake. Lorcan had no idea if it’s because of cold or fear but the sight broke his heart. Not once you two were tortured, not once other kingdoms wanted to get information out of you and held you both for weeks. Every single time you laughed at their faces when your body was being destroyed, not even a quiet grunt leaving your mouth while Lorcan and other warriors roared from pain. And now...

What the hell did they do to you...?

Your stomach was ripped, from left leg bits of bone were sticking out, several spikes were stuck in your right thigh, both hands pierced and wrists broken. Every wound was already infected.

“Get healers and blankets, immediately!” Lorcan shout not even bothering to look behind. Quickly he broke the chains that pinned you to the wall and took off his jacked, wrapping it around your shoulders and bringing you to his chest.

“No! No, no, no, please, no!” You started screaming when his hands touched you, kicking, wriggling, doing anything to break free from yours captor’s grip.

“Shhh, It’s me, just me. I won’t hurt you, Y/N, I promise on everything on this fucking planet I would never hurt you.” Lorcan’s voice and soft kisses placed on your forehead made you calm down a little as you sobbed into his shirt, still shaking from fear. One look down and he knew that the dried blood between your thighs weren’t from your period. It’s not the torture that broke you. Tears started escaping from Lorcan’s eyes as well when he hold you onto dear life, listening to your weak heartbeat and shallow breath.

And then he felt you. Saw you at the edge of the bridge that stopped midway over the big chasm. You were sitting with your head hidden between your knees, naked and wounded... The bond - the bridge was brittle and unstable, ready to collapse any moment and send you straight into the darkness. Without any thinking Lorcan sent every drop of his magic to you, building his part of the bridge, running towards you faster than ever. The shadows from his side of the chasm and mist from your side started flowing towards each other, mixing and blending, surrounding the two of you as Lorcan’s soul held yours, guarding you from the fall.

The Lion of Doranelle keeled beside his friends, his hands already glowing with white light. At first Lorcan growled, his instinct taking control over him. He was ready to kill anyone that came near you. But then he realized Gavriel is the only person he would trust fully to take care of you so he let him touch you. Again you started wriggling and screaming when Gavriel’s hands landed on your body but Lorcan was there to comfort you.

Soon few other healers ran into the room and started taking care of your most serious wounds so you could be transported to the castle without making anymore damage to your health. After a while you blacked out but your breath and heartbeat were steady and that’s the only thing Lorcan cared about.

When he carried you wrapped in three blankets up to his chambers he once more looked at your cell.

147 years. She was tortured for 147 years.

***

Everything ached. Every single inch of your body burned as you tried to open your eyes. The room was dark, only few candles lightened the walls. Heavy duvets and furs covered your chilled body from toes to chin, finally warming you up after years in cold cell.

Breathing in the scent you recognized immediately in who’s chambers you’re laying, after all you spent here so many nights compiling war strategies or complaining about your day and people that piss you off, sometimes laughing and joking with bottle of vine in hand and few times even babysitting Lorcan after he got way too drunk after won war. This place gave you so many amazing memories and now, after decades under lock and key and millions of hopeless nights you were here again. Everything were just like you remembered it.

Tears filled your eyes as you couldn’t believe it’s real. It was probably another of Maeve’s illusions yet it felt so real... so comforting and warm. No. She was doing it on purpose. In few moments you’re going to wake up in your cell and again get tortured the whole day, having in your mind the image of comfort you’d never feel again.

You squeezed your eyes shut and let tears wet your cheeks, preparing yourself for brutal reality to hit you when hoarse voice called your name; voice you could listen to for eternity. Turning your head you met beautiful black eyes in which danced reflections of the little flames from candles, making them look hypnotizing. Your lower lip quivered and more salty droplets of water fell on the pillow when you realized it’s not a dream. Broad hand moved to your cheek to wipe the tears but backed when you flinched under it’s touch, your breath become quicker and you felt a wave of fear creeping on you.

“It’s okay” the voice usually rough and serious was now soft and calming. “No one will hurt you, you’re safe now.” To confirm the words you felt little impulse through the matting bond.

“No” you whispered, your voice was dry and quiet. Shaking your head you repeated “no.” You wanted to wake up. Before you could believe it’s real, before it starts hurting too much. “You’re not real. It’s a dream.” Hopeless sobs left your mouth as you started fully crying. “It’s just an illusion.”

“Y/N look at me” Lorcan cupped your face, this time not letting go when you flinched but stroking his thumbs over your cheeks until you calmed down. Doing as he asked you aimed your eyes at his handsome face that you dreamed of almost every time. He had more scars, pale line crossed his left eyebrow leaving small cut what you found sexy, he also had dark circles under his eyes and in his dark orbs you noticed worry. “I’m here” he whispered. “I am with you and I won’t let anybody ever change this, I promise.”

“Lorcan.” You pulled lightly at the matting bond and chocked out a small laugh when he pulled back. Suddenly you realized it’s real. This time tears of happiness and relief fell from your eyes and you nuzzled your face into Lorcan’s hand. You best friend, your brother, your carranam, your mate. “You found me.”

Tears rolled down on both your faces as you stared into each others eyes. “I love you.” It was a whisper so quiet not even gods could hear it. “I have always loved you, Y/N. Even if I never wanted to acknowledge this fact, it was always you.” Lorcan’s words made your heart stop for a moment. “I don’t deserve you. I will never deserve you. Not after hating you for all those years while you were tortured right under my nose. But I promise you, I promise on everything on this planet, I will always protect you. No matter if you accept me as your mate or not, I will guard you from any harm with my life. Nothing will ever hurt you again.”

You tried to move your hand slowly under the covers towards your mate. Little whine left your mouth when you tried to raise it. Lorcan understood what you wanted to do and connected his other hand with your little palm, bringing it to his lips he placed several little kisses on its top. His lips against your skin were warm and enjoyable, the action made you feel safe. During the decades in cell you learned to hate men’s lips and hands on your body but when Lorcan touched you you found out how starved of a loving touch you were.

“Only the thought that maybe one day I’ll be able to see you again kept me sane down there” swallowing hard you slowly moved your hand from his lips to his cheek. By the way you noticed that where iron spikes were once embedded, now only pale scars remain. “I won’t make it without you...” you whispered at what Lorcan smiled gently.

“Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you. Ever.” Soft lips placed kiss on your forehead. Then one at the tip of your nose. Lorcan pulled away slightly to look deep into your eyes, asking you for permission. You smiled weakly but it was a happy smile. Your mate leaned down and connected his lips with yours, filling you with pleasant warmth. It was short and light but when he pulled away big smile lightened his face what made him appear younger and less scary. Another sight reserved only for you.

It was obvious you will flinch at even the slightest touch for a long time yet. Trauma doesn’t go away in one day and what happened in the dungeons will be reflected in your psyche forever but… Lorcan brought you comfort and calmness, feeling of safety. Maybe one day you’ll be able to function normally again.

You wanted to sit up but when when you tensed your weak muscles unbelievable pain shoot through your body making you whine. Lorcan immediately went on protective mode.

“Don’t move” he laid you down and stroked your hair trying to comfort you.

“Almost all of your muscles and sinews were ripped, most of your bones were broken. Healers patched you up as much as they could but still there’s a lot of recovery before you.” The only answer from you was a low grunt. “I’ll go get healers. And something to eat, you must be starving. I can order to make you whatever you feel like. What would you want? Hot chocolate? I’ll get you hot chocolate, you always loved it.” Lorcan moved to stand up and leave but you grabbed his hand pulled slightly.

“Don’t go.” The quiet please was almost shy as if you weren’t sure if he wants to stay.

“I’ll be right ba-”

“Don’t go.”

Lorcan smiled softly at your flushed and scared at once face. “Okay.” He sat down on the chair standing next to the bed but you pulled his hand once again. He shot you questioning look but you only repeated your action.

Carefully as not to scare you Lorcan sat on the bed and lied down next to you. When he made sure you’re okay with his moves he dropped his one arm around you and delicately brought you closer to him. Still laying on your back you shifted your weight on the right side, groaning quietly but relaxing when pain stopped after few seconds. Nuzzling your head closer to your mate you closed your eyes but then you remembered one more thing.

Gray-white mist appeared on the bedroom floor and started climbing on Lorcan’s bed, dancing around the two of you and covering you like a blanked. Your mate smiled down at you and seconds later black wind and shadows joined your mist and started to mix with it as if Lorcan’s magic missed yours.

Finally after one and a half century of tortures you felt comfort, your mate’s embrace and two ancient powers dancing with each other made your eyes close. Your mist settled on you ready to hide the two of you from the world. Lorcan’s deadly wind floated around the room ready to aim and rip life out of anyone that could endanger his precious mate.

Your breath got steady and rhythmic, body relaxed and melted into warm furs and features softened. Lorcan laid by your side for almost an hour after you fell asleep, admiring your little snores that were probably caused by your nose being broken. He tried to find a strength to move from the bed and go order you food so you could eat when you wake up but the fact that you were with him again, nay, now you were his, made him stay, too afraid you’d disappear if he left you. So he laid there, stroking your hair and imagining the future you two could create. Together. As mates.

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inkrabbit · 3 years

Text

Attention - Richard x f!reader (18+)

I finished this a lot sooner than I thought. F!Reader first, and I’ll do M!Reader version.... whenever

Summary: After being more concerned about work than you at a party, you decide to find a way to get Richard’s attention.

Word count: 2,566

It was always something with DedSec. Sure, you loved most of the operatives on the team, but you found that most of the personality types clashed with each other, and it wasn't unusual for a little spat to break out between members. Lately, however, it felt like it was getting worse. Anytime you entered the safehouse, someone was arguing with someone else, and god forbid it got physical. Those were the only times Bagley would step in, the little AI sending a good shock to their optiks when he was requested to do so. You always felt like he waited anxiously for those moments, never hesitating and then always claiming he was just “being the good little AI he was designed to be.”

Today was different. One of the younger members, Brock, had decided to throw a party in the safehouse in hopes it would lift everyone's spirit. He had sent a text out to everyone, telling them to just drop by for a surprise. You were curious to see what he meant, so you decided to go.

Had you known it was a party, you would've dressed nicer.

You noticed not everyone had decided to join, probably having just ignored the young man. But, it was still enough to feel like the small safehouse was becoming stuffy. You had even noticed that Brock got the bunkers hidden in the back open, but there were already a few couples in there who didn't mind the more “adventurous” route when it came to intimacy. And for a moment, you had considered dragging Richard back there and seeing just how confident he truly was in himself.

Of course, it wasn't a secret you were dating the proclaimed “terrorist”. In fact, many of the operatives had advised against it, and for good reason. But still, Richard had acted different with you. Jealous and a bit possessive, yes, but he treated you with the utmost respect and showered you in more love than you could've imagined from the man. And truth be told, a part of you loved seeing the flame ignite in the man's eyes whenever you were around someone else and giving them your attention.

So that's exactly what you decided to do tonight.

You knew Richard had a mean streak of working himself to the bone (a detail about him that you absolutely hated). Apparently, a party was no different, and you found him at the computer, going through multiple files and making notes. It still amazed you at how quick he could type. Then again, you wouldn't expect less from a man who strived to be the definition of perfect. You had came around a few times, pressing loving kisses to his cheek and temple, trying to pry him away from whatever he was working on, but to no avail.

“Just a little longer, my love, and I'll join you,” You knew what that meant. He would be there until he was too exhausted to even move. He always did this, even at home. You would return from a mission and find him on his laptop, typing away at whatever he was working on. Those times, you would just shut the damn thing and demand attention, but you figured tonight should be different. You had considered asking Bagley to shut the computer down, but that wasn't enough. You wanted it to sting. You wanted him to feel the same frustration you felt. And you knew just how to do it.

Lorcan Boyle was known for being open and occasionally flirty, and you knew he was at tonight's party. He never was one to miss out on free alcohol and fun, and you had seen him hanging around Mina and Brock earlier when you had arrived. He was still here, this time on the couch and lighting up a cigarette. You crinkled your nose up at the smell, but still approached him, a smile on your face.

“Lorcan!” You made sure your greeting was loud enough to catch Richard's attention as you bent at the waist, smiling at the man. You could already see the surprise in his eyes and you lowered your voice. “Richard's ignoring me, so I wanna make sure I get his attention.”

“And ya decided to come to me for that?” he chuckles, setting his cigarette in the ashtray. He sits back, matching your smile and opening his arms. It felt weird, settling yourself down in his lap and feeling his arms around you. Wrong and out of place, and he reeked of smoke and whiskey. You had gotten so used to the expensive cologne Richard wore religiously. Still, you hooked your arm around his shoulder.

“He always like this?” Lorcan questions with a tilt of the head. You let a sigh escape your lips.

“Unfortunately,” You had caught said man glance back at you, a disgusted look on his face. “How's Mina doing?”

“Better! Getting better with her powers,” You knew he was like a father figure to the teen, and you caught the pride in his voice as he spoke. “I'm... not sure if it's a good or bad thing, though. I don't want her getting too out of control.”

“She'll be fine. She's got Brock to watch her,” you promise. A scoff comes from him.

“Ya really think that gowl could stop her if he wanted?” he huffs, “A strong breeze could knock the sorry fuck down!”

“Lorcan-” Though you were about to try and defend the young operative, you saw Richard finally stride up, that old familiar dark look in his eyes and his nose turned up.

“There you are,” His voice is low, hands folded behind his back. “I was beginning to suspect you had gone home early.”

“Nah. She just wanted to chat, mate,” Lorcan draws you in just a little closer, squeezing your waist with a smug smirk. If it hadn't been for his professional front, you're sure he would've lashed out at that second.

“Well then, she can chat with me,” He holds his hand out, waiting patiently for you to take it. With a small goodbye to the older man, you accept Richard's help up. You catch a glimpse of a wink from Lorcan as he moves to retrieve his cigarette.

“Do you enjoy irritating me, darling?” Richard's question almost feels like it comes out of nowhere. “Would you rather that brute give you attention than your own boyfriend?”

“At least he had attention to provide!” you shoot back. He's led you back towards the training ring, but not past the spinning bars. You yank your hand from his grasp, arms crossed over your chest. “Do you know how it feels knowing that you'd rather work than spend time with me?”

There's an unnatural pause from the man. You hadn't ever really seen him take a moment and just stare at you, and you could almost see little cogs turning in his brain. He takes your hand again, but he's much softer this time, bringing it up to place a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“I'm sorry, my love,” he sighs, “You know it's hard for me to... express myself. I suppose I should take better care of you.”

You want to stay mad at him. You want to milk this for all it's worth and hear those pretty words leave his lips. Instead, you grab his jacket and yank him down, pulling him into a heated kiss. You take in everything about him; his cologne, the way he holds you close, how his tongue slips into your mouth. It's enough to make you relax against him, feeling one of his hands slide up your back and through your hair. The sweet gesture doesn't last long before he's gripping at the base, pulling you back with a wicked grin on his face.

“I still have to punish you, darling,” he purrs, “Can't have you thinking that little stunt you pulled was acceptable.”

A gasp is pulled from you as he dips his head down, lips latching to your neck and leaving behind harsh nips, followed by soothing kisses. You let your own hand slide down his chest, past his naval and to the crotch of his pants. Normally, he would've ground his hips against your hand, but this time, he's grabbing you by the wrist and moving. You're against the wall now, the cold cement hard against your back as he pins your wrist beside your head, his other hand untangling from your hair and gripping your throat, but not enough to choke you.

“I don't remember giving you permission to do that,” he chuckles against your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and pulling just a bit. He knee wedges itself between your thighs, brushing against your crotch and pulling a whine from your throat. You ground your hips against him, desperate to feel the friction.

“Be good for me, my pet,” he breathes, releasing his hold on you and starting for your shirt. With how frantic his movements are, you wouldn't have been surprised if he just ripped the thing off you. Still, he controls himself long enough to get it over your head before he discards your bra. He kisses down your neck and to your chest before taking one of your nipples in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and using his hand to massage your other breast. His name slips from your lips a few times as you continue to grind against his leg, one of your hands coming up to tangle itself in his hair. A pleased sound reverberates in his throat as he tilts his head up just a bit to look at you.

He switches between your breasts, leaving soft kisses in his wake, along with the occasional nip that makes you gasp. You've been letting out soft moans, all that fuel his growing ego and hard-on. He pulls back, just for a moment, before he's crashing against your lips again, shoving his tongue back into your mouth. He pulls you flush against his body, a soft groan coming from him as his hands roam up and down your body.

You're almost breathless when he pulls back, turning you around and having you bend against the wall. His bulge is obvious against you as he holds your hips, grinding against you.

“Richard, please,” You can see that smug smirk on his face when you glance back. He leans forward, his index finger trailing along your jaw and curling underneath your chin.

“Please what, my love?”

“Please, fuck me,” You don't have to say anything else. His fingers curl around the hem of your pants, yanking down, along with your panties. The cold air makes you gasp, and you bite your bottom lip to stifle a moan. He rubs his thumb along your entrance, coating his hand with your slick.

“Look at you,” he chuckles softly, “Already so wet for me, darling. What a good girl you are.”

His hand pulls back, but you feel his tip replace it. He rubs it along your core a few times, listening to you softly whine. A gasp tears through you as he finally pushes in, his hold on your hip tightening. It always amazed you how big he was, and how much he filled you up. He bottoms out against you, rubbing a hand up and down your back and letting you adjust. He was always so kind, even when you know you've pushed all of his buttons.

He pulls back a good bit before pushing back in, starting out at a slow pace and working his way up. Still, even the slower pace is enough to make you moan and gasp. You feel his hand slide up your stomach and eventually grab your breast, massaging the soft flesh.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, snapping his hips and brushing against your sweet spot. You keep your weight against the cement wall, mouth hanging open.

His thrusts get more erratic as he starts to drill into that spot, and his hand eventually leaves your breast to travel up to your neck. He doesn't grip too tight, but it's enough for him to coax you up from your bent position, and you feel your back against his chest, hearing his breath huffing in your ear. His hand stays on your throat, while his other abandons your hip, sliding up and taking your nipple in between his index and thumb, pinching and rolling. As much as you try to bite back your moans, some slip through, and louder than you had anticipated.

“Do you want everyone to hear you, darling?” he chuckles in your ear, tugging at your nipple and making you gasp. “Do you really want someone to come see you like this?”

Before you can respond, Richard releases his hold on your neck and dips his hand down, finger toying with your clit. You feel that smug grin on his lips as he presses hot kisses to your neck, and you try your best to match his thrusts. He's whispering praises in your ear, albeit dirty. Calling you all his, his good girl, how well you're taking him. His finger continues to rub furious circles on you, bringing you closer and closer to your edge. You could feel the tension building up inside you, and his name leaves your lips in a flurry. You're begging for him, begging him to not stop. He just chuckles.

“Oh, is that what you want?”

“Yes, please, Richard.”

“You're all mine, aren't you, pet? You belong to me, don't you?”

“Only you.”

“Tell me, love. Tell me what you want.”

“Make me cum, please.”

There's a hum that escapes him, almost like he's considering it.

“Go on, then, love. Cum for me,” It almost sounds like a command, but you obey it anyway, the knot in your stomach finally snapping. Richard has to put a hand over your mouth, covering your moan that could've been considered a scream. His thrusts had slowed down drastically, letting you ride out your high as he held you up, your knees buckling beneath you. He's cooing soft praises in your ear, peppering soft kisses across any skin he could find. You supposed you clenched around him hard, feeling him throb deep inside you. It only took a few more shallow thrusts before you felt him spill inside you, a shaky groan escaping his lips.

He gives you a few loving kisses before he finally pulls out of you. He uses the handkerchief tucked in his pocket to clean you up, still using a soft and tender touch. You lean against the wall, getting your breath back. He helps you redress after he tucks himself back in his slacks, a smirk still splayed across his lips.

“I hope that was a good enough reminder,” he starts lowly, giving you a lingering kiss. “of who you belong to, darling. Because I might not be as nice next time.”

You don't think he's lying. Hell, you know it's a promise. And yet, deep down, you feel like seeing just how rough he could be next time.

#smut #18+#richard malik #f!reader #richard x f!reader #if Ubisoft won't feed us then I will #god I hate this #I will never top my Gene fic

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selkielore · 3 years

Text

help girl i’m raging about sjm in 2021: i’m going to get all my thoughts out under the cut

okay first of all. she wrote in so much chemistry between same gender characters that could easily be construed as romantic in like. MOST of her characters. like. her self insert bitchy assasin/queen character aelin? has chemistry with ansel of briarcliff and lysandra. dorian and chaol? MAJOR chemistry! they exchanged i love you’s. chaol’s emotional chemistry with dorian is better than any other character in the entire series. yes i think men should be able to have deep emotional friendships and love each other platonically but i’m also not wrong for saying they have the best chemistry out of any of their love interests and it would have made sense for them to end up with each other.

not even to mention manon and elide which just. OOZED CHEMISTRY. they were amazing together! manon showed no interest in any man for the first 2 and a half books and talked about how much she hated men constantly. and as soon as her readers started talking about a f/f ship she ignominiously shunted elide off into a relationship with lorcan that didn’t make any sense. they had literally no reason to meet other than the fact that sjm didn’t want to leave readers under the impression that her characters could be queer. i would have rather read manon and elide ending up on their own as independent women chars instead of seeing them paired off with random dudes.

don’t talk to me about aedion or the two background queer couples. aedion being bisexual was literally one throwaway line and never mentioned again, and both the background queer couples had so little time on page that i can’t remember their names and i just finished a re-read. like. she cares SO LITTLE.

i also have a bone to pick with the way she writes m/f couples. i’m a lesbian and even i can appreciate fictional relationships between men and women. i loved alex x darlington in ninth house, jordan x declan in call down the hawk. i’m not hating on sjm’s het ships just because they’re het. i’m hating on them because every interaction between her many couples REEKS of toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny. the whole territorial fae thing is disgusting and played off as a joke every time. i also think the way she writes sex and romance is very unsexy... it’s all about the physical and has a very sexualized lens on both her female and male characters. i don’t need to read descriptions about “lush breasts” and “velvet wrapped steel.” it reads like the male gaze even if it’s turned on men, too, which i just don’t find compelling or titillating. if i’m going to read a sex scene i want it to be based on underlying emotional tension, not quippy flirty banter. what makes sex & love compelling is vulnerability.

okay i think i’m done now. not even diving into the way she treats characters of color and the colonialist undertones bc. i’ve exhausted my comprehensive thoughts for now.

#anti sjm #anti throne of glass

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high-lady-of-earth · 3 years

Text

Hi!!! Thanks for checking this out. My page posts about anything related to my favorite fandoms, which include A Court of Thorns and Roses, Fate: The Winx Saga, Teen Wolf, and Throne of Glass. I am accepting requests for f/m fanfics in these fandoms. I personally enjoy writing x reader. I love writing for Azriel, Riven, Theo Raeken, Void!Stiles, Lorcan, and Rowan.

#riven x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x elain #elriel #theo raekan x reader #void stiles #stiles stilinksi x reader #lorcan x elide #rowaelin

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shadowdaddies · 6 months

Note

can i request some hurt/comfort for lorcan x chubby!reader? maybe her dealing with a bit of self esteem issues and lorcan praising her?

I hope it's okay this came out quite suggestive lol, it's just straight up body worship

Flawless

Lorcan x Reader

Warnings: reader is struggling with body image, not smut per say but Lorcan is definitely copping a feel so minors dni

Standing in your underwear, you stared at your body in the mirror - all you could see were the “flaws”. Most days you saw your curves for the beauty that they were, but today all you could see were what you had deemed as imperfections. Silver lined your eyes, tears threatening to spill when you grabbed at your upper thighs, focusing on how pronounced your cellulite was when you did so.

Your sniffles muffled the sound of the door opening, Lorcan standing in the frame as he watched you judge your body in the mirror - the beautiful body that he ached to worship. A combination of lust and protective nature took over him as he crossed the room to stand behind you.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around yourself in an attempt to hide as you made eye contact with Lorcan through the reflection of the mirror, but he gently grabbed your arms, pulling them to the sides as his eyes raked hungrily over you.

You flushed with embarrassment at his unabashed desire, your wiggling against his grip only pushing you further into his body as you were met with his evident arousal at your back. Lorcan groaned as you pressed against him, holding your wrists to the side as the two of you watched your body react to his touch. He released your wrists, sliding his hands to your breasts, massaging them as he kissed down your neck, leaving visible marks on your skin as he claimed you as his own.

He twisted your nipples, watching as you gasped in the mirror - a smirk on his face as he whispered, “I love when you look at me like that.” You blushed further, watching in a daze as one of his hands trailed further south, moving in comforting circles around your stomach. Lorcan knelt down behind you, at level with your waist as he kissed your hips. “I love how soft your skin is,” he murmured before leaving another mark on your hips, squeezing the fat of your ass as he hummed in appreciation. His hands slid down your legs, rubbing softly along your thighs as he practically growled, “and these damn legs - every time I see them, all I can think about is how I want them wrapped around my head while you writhe beneath me.”

An involuntary moan escaped you at his words, and you found yourself short of breath as Lorcan stood, playfully smacking your ass as he bent down to press a kiss to your cheek. “You are so beautiful, my love,” he whispered, watching your still doubtful reaction in the mirror.

Lorcan arched an amused brow at you. “Ah, you need me to show you how much I love this body, hm?” He chuckled as he tossed you effortlessly onto the bed, the beginning of a long night ahead of you.

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shadowdaddies · 6 months

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Hi:) after reading your Lorcan x chubby reader ff I've been wondering if you could write an Eris x chubby reader where he literally worships her?

so I assumed that by literally worshipping, you meant full body worship like smut but if you meant something else lmk I'll see what I can do

Incomparable

Eris x Reader

Warnings: smut below the cut, body image issues, body worship, oral f!receiving, overstimulation, p in sex, not proofread

You strode into your bedroom in a whirlwind of emotions, angry and upset from the events of the evening. It was often that your mate’s role required the two of you to attend formal events such as tonight’s ball - and typically you quite enjoyed them - but tonight pushed your limits.

You had been fitted for a gorgeous new dress that made you feel incredible, elated to show off to Eris when you left for the night. He said that you looked beautiful, but you had been hoping for a stronger reaction, and then you arrived at the ball. Beautiful fae females were everywhere - tall and slender and elegant, how fae typically were. The standard of beauty were those elongated features and slim figures, and looking down at your full figure and accentuated curves, it was difficult to acknowledge your natural beauty for what it was, but rather you saw yourself as “other.”

Holding back tears, you threw your shoes off and towards the corner as you struggled to untie the laces on the back of your dress. Eris arched an amused brow as he watched you, until your fingers gave up on fumbling with the ties of the dress and you let out a frustrated cry. You hung your head in your hands as Eris approached you, now aware of your emotions as he carefully put his hands on your shoulders.

He placed a kiss to your temple, moving around to face you as he pulled your hands away from your face to look into your eyes. Eris searched your face with concern as he gently asked, “what is it, little love?” Your lower lip wobbled and shoulders slumped as you looked down at yourself - the curve of your hips and stomach visible in your dress. The same curves you loved at times, now haunting you merely because they were different from everyone else.

Eris tracked your gaze, watching as your hands gripped the skin around your hips. His eyes flashed with an intense expression as he pulled your hands away, holding your wrists with one of his hands above your head. You gasped at the exposed feeling, attempting to squirm away from his hold, but Eris had a firm grip on you.

His gaze turned predatory, eyes darkening as he ran his free hand down your body, over your breasts and hips, until a single finger trailed across your hip, hovering over where you ached for his touch. Your breathing grew heavy, coming in pants - Eris harshly grabbed your ass as he spun you around, bending you over the mattress and groaned at the sight of you. “How can you possibly not see how beautiful you are?” he growled out, grinding his hard length against you as he leaned forward, dragging his teeth along your earlobe as he made quick work of loosening the ties on your dress.

Eris pulled you back up so that you were flush against him, the silky fabric of your dress pooling at your ankles so that you were naked against his fully clothed form. He angled your head to provide himself easy access to mark your neck, biting and sucking the skin until he reached your collarbone. He licked along the bone, murmuring against your skin, “you were the most beautiful female in that room tonight. Every male couldn’t take his eyes off of you. I almost burned several of them.”

You sighed at his touch, body betraying you as it arched into him. “You certainly didn’t seem impressed by me earlier,” you managed to breathe out. Eris pulled back for a moment, hand gripping your jaw to look at him as he leaned down, tugging your lower lip in between his teeth before whispering against your mouth, “ah, then I guess I should spend my evening impressing upon you, shouldn’t I?”

With anyone else, you would find that challenging question sweet - but with Eris, you knew that you had signed yourself up for a long night.

Three orgasms later, you were writhing on the mattress, struggling against Eris’s firm hold as his fingers curled against your walls, eliciting embarrassing sounds from your wet center as he sucked harshly on your clit. You mewled, head swimming as you struggled to stay coherent under his overstimulation. Your head lolled against the sheets as you pleaded, “Eris, please, I-“ only to be cut off by your own moan. What you were begging him for, you could no longer remember, in a haze as Eris continued to murmur praises - everything he loved about you, your body, your heart, your mind - against your clit while he worked you skillfully towards your fourth orgasm.

Legs shaking, you came screaming his name, vision blacking out as you struggled to catch your breath. You registered Eris crawling over you, his arms bracketing on either side of your head as he leaned down to kiss you, tongue slipping into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of you on his tongue. Eris sucked your own tongue between his lips, and you gasped as you bucked against him, feeling his hard arousal still confined in his pants.

You eagerly reached for the ties of his pants, needing to have him inside of you despite your exhaustion. Eris groaned, his head dipping into the crook of your neck as you took his length out of his pants and rubbed his tip against your core. You wrapped your legs around him, urging Eris into you. You both moaned at the feeling as he settled inside of you, and you took this time to kiss all over his face and neck, letting Eris know how much you adored him as well.

He made love to you slowly, making eye contact as he reveled in your expressions at each thrust. Eris finished with a groan, rolling onto his back as he pulled you into his side, the both of you completely spent from too much pleasure. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and angled your chin to look at him once more. “Do not ever doubt your beauty, little love. I love you, because you are like no one else. There is no one like you, and you are mine, as I am yours.”

With that, Eris pushed off the mattress to prepare you a bath, where he repeated the parts of your body that he loved as he washed you, and you fell asleep in the loving arms of your mate.

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throneofsapphics · 6 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/theparadoxart/730787672331829248 this one i believe. love that lorcan x reader one btw, very well written. feel like some lorcan writers write in a way that makes lorcan seem unappealing to me (no shade or whatever, most likely just a preference)

bad idea

Azriel x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel comes to you with a new job proposal.

Word Count: ~3.8k

Warnings: suggestiveness, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking

A/N: ah thank you, he's a fun character to write! based on this request, thank you for sending it, sorry it took so long!

You sat down heavily on the steps. The year passed quickly in Cesere passed quickly. Just before the outbreak of the war against Hybern, and after the attack on the temple, you’d arrived.

Rhys requested for you to help with the aftermath. You were honored by the request, and knew he’d sent you for a few different reasons. You could hold your own in a fight and had grown up in a temple. Not this one, specifically, but you’d spent your later childhood secluded with the Priestesses.

You kicked your legs out before you, letting your back press into the stone wall, eyes closing as you breathed in the night air. Fresh and clean, the taint of blood and death had begun to dissipate. The months after the war weighed on everyone here. You’d stayed here throughout the duration, and after, protecting the small outpost and rebuilding.

You opened your eyes to gaze out at the horizon. The sun was slowly setting, but clouds obscured the view. No pretty sunset tonight. Maybe tomorrow would be better.

Dawn til dusk, everyday for a few years. Sometimes even longer. Exhaustion had quickly set in now that the fervor died down. Could you do this for a lifetime? You weren’t certain. Vacations didn’t exist in your world, not for you at least. It would be a cold day in hell before you admitted you needed a break - or help.

A low chill overtook the area, and you leapt to your feet, hands palming the knife at your side as a shield slid over your skin and the door. A figure emerged from the corner, shadows dispersing to reveal a familiar form. Your lips curved into a smile. Azriel.

The shield dropped, you’d recognize his scent anywhere. Night-chilled mist and cedar. His brows flicked, and you realized you were still gripping the knives. You shrugged, and lowered yourself back down to the steps, patting the spot next to you.

A snort left him, but he crossed towards you in a few long strides. His legs spread, forearms propped on his thighs as he gazed at you. His stare was a brand, as if he saw through every layer and defense you’d built. He always had that way about him.

You tilted your head to meet his gaze. His mouth curved at one corner.

“Good to see you.” He spoke first.

“Likewise.” A grin broke out on your face. Seeing an old friend was always nice. Mor had brought you to Velaris several centuries ago, and you’d quickly become friends with the rest of the Inner Circle, but you’d always been closer to Azriel. Well, you did spy for him for a brief period before you both figured out it wasn’t your best skill.

“Why are you here?” You winced at your own words, as they came out a bit harsher than you meant for them to. Thankfully, he didn’t look offended.

“Doing my rounds.” Rumors spread of him visiting, but somehow you’d always missed each other.

“Not seeking out my company?” You teased him.

His mouth tightened. Maybe he had been seeking you out. “Part of the job description.”

You hummed, but went into a small report about the state of things here. Nothing to report, really. The new priestesses were adjusting, the wards you and Rhys built were still strong, supplies came in as needed, trading was slowly building back up again.

“How are you?” He emphasized. You blinked.

“Everything is well.” You’d just explained all of that.

He huffed, and fixed you with a look. You, personally - not the state of things.

“Fine.” You muttered, switching your gaze back to the horizon.

“Liar.” For now, you’d ignore that comment.

“How is everything in Velaris?” You switched the subject, not very smoothly. His eyes narrowed slightly, telling you that conversation wasn’t over.

“It’s fine.” His words were clipped, but his tone was a tad softer than usual. “I - we miss you.”

“Really?” You drawled.

“Yes. Really.”

You leaned over and nudged him with your elbow, carefully avoiding his wings. “You’ve gone soft, shadowsinger.”

“You need a break.” He wasn’t wasting any time, then. Were you that easy to read?

“No.”

“Yes.” He countered.

“I didn’t realize I answered you.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I forgot how damned stubborn you are.”

Azriel was impressed. You’d detected him within seconds of his arrival, and were as sharp as ever. Plus, you’d defended the outpost throughout the last few years. Resources had been stretched, but they’d placed you here - knowing you were both capable and willing to take it on. The best candidate for the job, but even he could see how it wore on you. He’d checked in with the Priestesses briefly, but you’d never been present. Maybe he should have sought you out sooner. Azriel shoved away the hint of shame creeping into him.

A new idea had dawned on him nearly as soon as he saw you. They needed another trainer for the Valkyries, and you needed a change of scenery. It was an ideal situation, and they’d already started evaluating volunteers for a few Valkyrie-Priestesses to relocate out to some of the outposts. Roslin, Deirdre, and Ananke. He’d quickly reached out to Rhys during one of the pauses in your conversation, and gotten a resounding approval.

“Have you heard of the Valkyrie’s?”

Silence filled the space, all noise seeming to disappear as you froze next to him.

“My mother was a Valkyrie.” He barely caught your words, just a whisper over the wind. How had he not known that? That explains your natural talent. Accidental pregnancy? Did she hide you when war broke out?

“Months before that war broke out, she sent me to a temple. I was ten.” You confirmed his suspicions.

He cleared his throat, and began to explain the re-birth of the Valkyries. You listened intently, hanging on to every word like a lifeline, your eyes lighting up with each new word he spoke. He had to focus on getting the words out, not on the look in your eyes - the new life breathed into them, the anticipation he could sense building in you. Joy and sorrow. Something in his chest ached at the emotions freely rolling from you. At the old memories he was undoubtedly digging up.

“We’re looking for another trainer.” He finished before you could get a word in. Your mouth parted, eyes widening. He was kidding, right? “I’m offering you the position.”

“Offering or ordering?” You joked, trying to deflect the maelstrom of emotions rolling from you in uncontrollable waves. Your mother would be proud, would be overjoyed. “Either way I’m in.” You quickly added, not wanting him to think you were declining.

His lips quirked up at the corners. “I would’ve dragged you back if I had to.”

“I can’t leave until someone else,” you waved your hand at the building behind you - the Temple.

“We have something set up.” If he says he does, you’d believe him. Azriel would never put Cesere in the hands of someone he or the Inner Circle couldn’t trust.

“Fair enough.”

He stood, holding out a hand for you. You frowned, but took it - letting him tug you to your feet. His hand lingered for a few seconds, scarred flesh rough against your skin. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, before he dropped your hand, taking a quick step back. “I’ll touch base tomorrow, and we can finalize arrangements.”

Before you could reply, shadows had swarmed him again and he disappeared. Never one for words, you huffed a laugh but didn’t read into the situation further. You understood the other message behind his words - don’t tell anyone yet.

Your mind filled with a thousand more things to worry about. If the switch happens, how would you transition back into life in Velaris? What could you do to help the new Valkyrie-Priestesses adjust? You rubbed your hands together, change was good. A new purpose, and now you had plans to put into place. Assuming everything works out. He wouldn’t get your hopes up like that. Hopefully.

You didn’t need to guess what your mother would think - she would be overjoyed. Memories of your early childhood flooded into your mind. You’d been just months out from beginning official training when you were dropped off, your mother depositing you on the doorstep after a hushed conversation with the Head Priestess. You overheard her swearing a vow of secrecy to your mother.

She embraced you, the lone tear on your cheek dripping down on her armor, glinting in the sunlight.

“Be brave,” she whispered, pulling back to hold you by the shoulders. You straightened, and nodded to her. “Never forget I love you.”

“I love you.” You replied, she squeezed your shoulder once before disappearing. She never made a promise to return, and dread had built in your stomach. A sixth sense told you this would be the last time you saw her, and you committed her picture to memory. Brave. You could be brave, for her.

You were surprised the shadowsinger didn’t know. Out of everyone, you’d suspected he would’ve sniffed your ‘secret’ out. There wasn’t a singular reason why you kept your mother’s identity a secret, more of a feeling that you should. The priestess swearing a vow of secrecy had altered something inside of you. Why had you told Azriel, after all of these centuries? And why hadn’t he questioned it further?

Your head pounded, and you rubbed at your temples. The sky was dark, the full moon casting a soft glow over the streets. Bed, you needed to sleep.

Two weeks later, you were unlocking the door to your old apartment. A sheen of dust covered every surface. The kettle was still on the stove where you left it. You really had left in a hurry.

Three hours later, you were satisfied it was clean enough for now. Rummaging through your pantry, you found some old rice and dried beans - probably no good by now. It was late, past sundown. The food vendors were long gone and maybe you should’ve thought of this before your cleaning spree.

You flinched as a knock pounded on the door. There’s only one person who could sneak through your wards like that.

You swung the door open and Azriel stood there. He did cut an imposing figure, wings tucked in behind him - still wearing his leathers as usual, hazel eyes scanned the room behind you. Always on guard. He held a basket before him. It seemed so … domestic, for one of the greatest Illyrian Warriors to show up at your doorstep with a picnic basket.

“Please tell me that’s food,” you stepped to the side to let him in, shutting the door softly behind him. The aroma of fresh bread, cheese, fruits, and different meats wafted through the room and you nearly moaned. He gave you a look, as if to say; isn’t that obvious?

You glared at him, and he held the basket out in front of him as a peace offering. You fought the urge to lunge for it, and instead gently took it from his hands, his fingers brushing against yours. You ignored the bolt of electricity flooding through you, quickly turning to place it on the kitchen table.

“Staying to eat?” You asked without looking back at him. Your cheeks were flushed - and you didn’t need him to see that. You unfolded the towel, revealing an assortment of food fit for at least four people.

“Is that an invitation?” You felt the heat of his body behind you, hovering mere inches away. He leaned over you, snatching a grape. As he took a step back, you turned to lean your body against the table, propping your hands behind you.

He tossed it in the air, catching it in his mouth.

“That was a very Cassian move.” You commented, but reached for the same fruit and copied him. Your eyes closed as the sweet fruit popped in your mouth, a moan involuntarily leaving your lips. You’d have to find out where he got those from.

You heard shifting, fabric shuffling together, and your eyes flew open. Azriel had a smirk on his face, but it was undercut by the light pink on his cheeks and the faintest whiff of arousal. Your own rose to meet it. This was bad, but a little flirting couldn’t hurt … right?

“Something wrong?” You gave him a sweet smile, reaching back for another fruit, closing your lips around it as you popped it inside your mouth. You watched him, as he watched your motions - eyes fixed on your lips.

He recovered quickly. “I’ll get plates,” and strode past you. He headed to the correct cabinet on the first try. It took you longer than that to remember where you’d kept everything.

“How did you know that?”

A shadow brushed against your lower arm. Of course. It trailed up your body and brushed against the back of your neck, somewhere between comforting and sensual, before retreating back to him. It curled around his ears, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. What had it told him? That was probably too nosy of a question.

Azriel’s self control was thoroughly tested by you. The soft moan that escaped, the way you stared at him as your lips wrapped around the fruit. He wanted to feel them against his, to see if they felt as soft as they looked. To taste the sweet fruit on your own tongue, would it be different? Would you let out another one of those sweet moans? What other kinds of noises could he draw from you?

Inappropriate. Very fucking inappropriate. You were friends, had been friends for centuries, and he’d be working closely with you. He had centuries of practice exercising self-control, he wouldn’t lose it around you. If there was anything between you, he would’ve noticed it centuries ago. Nothing, he could chalk this up to a … misunderstanding. Wrong, his shadows whispered in his ear, wrong. He was keenly aware of your gaze on his back as he grabbed two plates - mismatched and slightly chipped porcelain. Slowly, so damned slowly, he turned back around and started plating food. He couldn’t look at her, not yet. He prayed you didn’t look down and see him straining against his pants. At least he’d detected a slight shift in your scent as well.

“Sit.” He told you, sliding the plate across the table. One elegant eyebrow arched at the command, but you listened.

He blinked at you. You must be hungry if you’re not making some kind of snarky remark.

Azriel knew he should leave. Should stride out the door, send some sort of letter to tell you when to show up, leave his plate full, pretend none of this happened, but he didn’t. Instead, he schooled his features into a neutral mask, watching you inhale your food like you hadn’t eaten in days.

It was several minutes before he realized he hadn’t eaten a bite, you laughed as your thumb wiped away a bit of food from the corner of your mouth, before your pink tongue darted out to capture the small morsel. You looked down at your now empty plate and frowned, hand starting to reach for the basket again.

His lips curved into a smile, and he took your plate from you before you could, ignoring your squawk of protest. Instinct wanted him to fill it for you. The delighted grin on your face, and thanks from you satisfied a part of it. This time, he remembered to eat his own food.

“I’ll come get you in the morning.” He said between bites. You paused, rolling a grape between your thumb and forefinger. Why had he brought those?

“Where will we be going?”

“To train.” He deadpanned.

Your teeth tugged at your bottom lip. Fuck. “You don’t feel the need to test me first?”

“Do you want me to?” He abandoned his plate and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

You shrugged. “It’s what I would do.”

“Are you saying you’re not up to it?” The words came out cooler than he meant for them to. “I know you are.” He added, a bit gentler. “I would’ve ‘tested’ you if I doubted.”

The answer seemed to satisfy because you turned back to your food.

Sure, you were hungry - but at this point the food was a distraction from him. From his intoxicating presence. If you stared too long, you’d be trapped and end up doing something stupid. You didn’t miss the way his body had reacted, how he was avoiding looking at you for too long …

Bad. Fucking. Idea.

“You’re obvious.” Cassian elbowed him. His brother wasn’t wrong, his focus was on the female instructing some of the newer priestesses. Explaining balance, showing them how to sync their movements with their breaths. Objectively, he could say you were a good addition to their team. You had an easy way about you, a genuine smile, and enthusiasm that drew everyone in. Himself included. A week ago, he’d collected you for the first time - arriving two hours before training officially began so he and Cassian could go over their lesson plans with you. They’d decided to have you with the newest group of priestesses joining.

He grunted as Cassian’s elbow hit his ribs, harder this time.

“I’m observing.” He said through gritted teeth. Inconveniently, you twisted your head over your shoulder, winking at him before returning. Azriel shook his head as Cassian laughed, and re-focused on the priestesses now returning from a water break. He smoothly situated them as far away from you as possible. Out of sight, out of mind. If only it worked like that.

A few hours later, you were speaking to Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie over by one of the water stations on the far side of the courtyard. Rhys strolled through the door, hands in his pockets. Azriel fought the jealousy creeping inside of him as the two of you exchanged words - too quiet for him to hear. You only shot him a small smile a second before Rhys winnowed you away to mother knows where. The three Valkyries started making their way over to him.

“Did you need to eye-fuck all morning or should I shove the two of you in a closet?” Cassian drawled as the females came into earshot.

He turned his head to face his friend. Did he already forget Azriel had to chaperone him and Cassian for months?

He didn’t need to reply, because Emerie spoke directly to Cassian. “Now you know how we felt.”

“It’s not like that.” Azriel protested.

“Really?” Nesta let out an edged chuckle. He felt his hands fist defensively at his side, a reaction he thought was trained out of him centuries ago.

“Yes.” The word was clipped, and he left. He needed to be gone before they’d push about your friendship. Push about things that are none of their business. Something everyone in this city seems to be good at. Maybe with you as the exception. Part of him wished you’d pushed further.

This was destined to end horribly. Nothing good could come of getting involved with someone he had to work so closely with, had to spend so much time in close quarters. That’s what he told himself, at least.

Azriel took his shirt off. To be fair, so did Cassian. But … sweat glistened on his skin, dropping down his chest and stomach. The whirled tattoos along his back were still there. You decided you need a drink - preferably a large and strong one. You’d drink Absinthe now if you had to, but could settle for water.

You didn’t know if he was avoiding you. For the first week, he’d picked you up each morning and dropped you off after. But, now Rhys or Cassian would take you back down. Unless you ended up tagging along to the library with some of the priestesses.

You didn’t realize the Courtyard had cleared around you. This was the first time the two of you had been alone together in three weeks. Just grab your things and leave, you told yourself. Maybe you could take those 10,000 stairs, or head down into the library. You could probably find your way through the virtual labyrinth of stairs and corridors leading down.

You headed towards the door that would lead you through the mountain, and hissed as your fingertips came in contact with a shield. You sucked them into your mouth, soothing the small burning sensation.

Azriel cursed audibly behind you. You slowly turned to face him.

“Rhys did this,” he admitted. You didn’t reply, but let your magic probe at the shields. Until the High Lord decided you could leave, the two of you were stuck here.

“Any idea why?” You finally asked to break the awkward tension.

“No.” He ran a hand through his hair, and made his way over to one of the benches. He tapped the spot next to him, just like you had to him when he found you in Cesere. Your heart thundered with each step closer, and you left a few feet or so of space between the two of you. An appropriate amount of space.

Azriel seemed deep in thought, his eyes fixed right ahead of you, leaning forward so his forearms were propped on his thighs. Unashamedly, you studied his profile. The sharp cut of his jawline, sun glinting off his hazel eyes, his naked torso, the flexed muscles of his thighs.

“Like what you see?” He asked without looking at you.

“Yes.” You spoke without thinking. Your attention diverted, now gazing right ahead of you. Normally, this would be the time for you to make a cowards exit. But, Rhys had gone ahead and fucked that up that option for you.

Several moments passed before he spoke again. “Let me take you on a date.”

It took you a few breaths to recover. “Ask nicely and I’ll consider.”

That caught his attention, and you felt him studying you this time. Your pulse fluttered as you turned to meet his gaze. “Please,” he said in a mocking tone, and a little smile crept onto your lips.

You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think about it. “Fine,” you sighed - as if it was a big ordeal. The blush on your cheeks betrayed you. But, as you voiced your agreement - the shield dropped. That was his goal.

You stood, stretching your arms above you to get some of the tension out of your back. Currently, you had a nosy High Lord to track down and have some choice words with. Azriel stood with you. You had a feeling he was about to do the same thing.

Maybe one day you’d thank Rhys. For now, you wanted to make him regret his existence for forcing your hand.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar fic

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throneofsapphics · 7 months

Text

a deal between friends

Lorcan x f!Reader

Summary: Day 14, Corruption with Lorcan

Word Count: ~3.2k

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), light corruption kink, friends with benefits, light d/s dynamics, minors dni!

kinktober masterlist

Lorcan had known you for years and he knew almost everything there was to know about you. As a friend, of course, he told himself. But, one afternoon, when the words spilled out about your inexperience and how behind you felt, he was absolutely done for.

“Do you want,” he paused, trying to get the words right without messing this up - he had one shot at it. “Someone to help with that?”

“Are you volunteering, Lorcan?” You teased, but he saw how your cheeks flushed. He loved hearing his name on your tongue.

“I am.” He raised one brow, fighting down any signs of his nerves. Your lips parted slightly, your pupils dilating, and he knew he had you.

“Oh. Oh.” He let his lip curve up into a smirk, leaning back in his chair, and tilting his head - waiting for you to form an actual response. “That … that would work,” you said hesitantly, and he watched how your pulse fluttered. If he told you right now all of the things he wanted to do to you, all of the plans forming in his mind, he’d scare you off for certain. But, he’d get the honor of teaching you everything about pleasure and enjoy each second

“That’s not very enthusiastic.” He countered, to test how you would reply.

“If you don’t want the job,” you said the words with a smirk, “I can go find someone else.”

“No.” His voice came out rougher than he meant it to. “It’s mine.”

Mine. Gods, the pure possession in Lorcan’s words gave you goosebumps. His, the word popped into your mind and you quickly shoved it back down. This was transactional, a friend helping a friend - that’s it. And it would do you good to remember it. Still, looking at him - the dark eyes, the sharp lines of his face, the way his hands were gripping the table and you imagined how they’d feel on your thighs, around your throat. You were already blushing but the arousal you knew was coming from your scent made the blush spread down your chest, likely all the way to your navel. You already wanted to wipe the satisfied look off his face, instead you rolled your eyes at him.

“Alright. It’s yours.”

“That’s better,” he tapped his fingers against the table, his eyes fixed firmly on you. “I’ll come by tonight.”

He stood, rounding the table before stopping next to you. His gaze traced down from your lips to the curve of your breast, before shooting back up to meet your eyes. You froze as he traced one finger across your collarbone and your breath caught. His lips twitched at the corners and he left without another word. When he was out of sight, you slumped back in your chair, holding your head in your hands. What the hell had you just done? Having Lorcan ‘help you out,’ in his words? And meeting him tonight? You knew you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else for the rest of the day.

You paced anxiously, waiting for Lorcan to show up. He hadn’t given you a time, which was slightly infuriating, but that anger was overshadowed by the giant pit of nerves in your stomach. What time was tonight? If he planned on showing up at midnight, you’d definitely lock him out. Less than an hour after sunset, a knock sounded at your door and you forced yourself to take a deep breath before answering. Lorcan stood there, leaning against the wall. He pushed himself off as you swung the door open, stepping aside to let him in.

“Want something to drink?” You asked, turning quickly to head to the kitchen. You could use something to calm your nerves, that’s for certain. You didn’t drink anything before he came over, but in hindsight that might have been a good idea.

“Sure,” he said, his normally stoic voice laced with amusement, and settled on the couch.

You glanced over your shoulder, his long legs were stretched out in front of him, one arm braced over the back of the couch. He looked so … calm and relaxed, as if this was a perfectly normal thing for him. Maybe it was. A strange hit of jealousy rose in your chest, and you shoved that back down - deep, deep down. A friend helping a friend, that’s it, no reason for you to feel that way.

You let out a slow exhale, quickly pouring each of you two fingers of whiskey into one glass. On the second one, your hand was so shaky it jolted, and you cursed as some of the liquid spilled out onto the counter.

“For fucks sake,” you grabbed a towel, starting to soak up some of it, “what a waste.”

“Nervous?” Lorcan called from across the room.

“No.” you countered, maybe a bit too quickly. You picked up the bottle again, and felt a presence behind you, one of his hands covered your own, his body hovering just an inch behind you, the other one bracketing the counter. Your heart sped up as he tilted the bottle for you, stopping at just the perfect amount.

“It’s alright if you are,” he murmured as you shoved the bottle to the back of the counter.

His hand swept the hair away from your shoulder, gathering it on one side. He gripped your chin between two of his fingers, twisting your head so you’d look at him.

“Just a friend helping a friend,” your words were barely audible.

Something in his eyes darkened, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Right.” He released you, taking a step back so you could turn around, but didn’t move any further, only reaching behind you to snatch the small glass, pressing it to your lips. “Drink.”

His words were a pure command, and something in your belly coiled as your lips parted. The liquor was a familiar and welcome burn, easily sliding down your throat. His eyes were fixed on your lips as your tongue darted out to catch the few drops left behind. “Good girl.”

The coil already building inside you tightened, and you braced one arm on the counter behind you. The corner of his mouth indented, a grin from him if you’ve ever seen one, and he snatched the other glass up, jerking his head towards the couch.

You followed him on slightly unsteady feet, aiming right for your favorite armchair. Maybe some physical distance between the two of you would be good right now, because you’re not certain if you could trust yourself. You were just about to lower yourself into the chair when he spoke again, “Sit next to me.”

His tone left no room for argument, and you found yourself obeying instantly - and cursing yourself for it. You’d never let anyone boss you around before but … this didn’t feel quite like that. You left a good, safe, foot or so between the two of you. He huffed, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and you squeaked as he tugged you right into his side.

“Gods Lorcan.”

“If I’m going to be helping you, you might as well get close now.”

Lorcan ran his hand down the smooth skin of your arm. He knows you didn’t exactly need to be tucked into his side, but he wanted to feel your skin - the heat of your body against him. Watching you lick the small droplets off of your mouth, your soft pink tongue peeking out … he almost threw you up on the counter right there. “What have you done?”

“Not wasting any time, are you?” You teased him and your voice grew quieter, “nothing.”

“You’ve never even kissed anyone?” He asked incredulously

“Don’t laugh at me.” You mumbled, pressing into his side.

“I promise I’m not laughing.” His throat bobbed, “have you ever touched yourself?”

“A bit.” You admitted, an adorable pink blush coating your cheeks. He grabbed your waist, pulling you so you straddled his legs, running his hands up and down your thighs.

“What does ‘a bit’ mean?”

“It means a bit.” You snipped at him, and he raised a brow.

“Elaborate.”

“You’re bossy,” you deflected, tracing one hand over his cheekbone. “I’ve touched down there a few times in the bath mostly.”

An image of you, alone in your bath, your thighs spread and eyes closed - fingers exploring your clit and folds, your hips keening slightly in the water. He felt himself harden, starting to strain against his pants, but thankfully you were distracted running your fingers over his cheeks, down the column of his neck.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

You hesitated, your hand stopping. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?” You snapped at him, rising on your knees to move off. He gripped your waist with your hands, firmly tugging you back down.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised.” You didn’t reply, only tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, and his eyes narrowed in on the action. Fuck, he was tired of waiting, tired of words at this point, and wound his hand in your hair, tugging you closer, his other hand braced on the small of his back. “Can I kiss you?”

He watched your teeth dig in further, and you gave a small nod. “Words, y/n,” his voice was strained - the narrow grip he had on his restraint splintering, “I need words.”

“Yes,” you breathed, and he closed the distance between the two of you. Your lips were soft and pliable under his, moving awkwardly at first, but he ran one hand down your back, over the curve of your ass, squeezing slightly and your lips parted as you gasped. He took the chance to deepen the kiss, and you began to relax. You let out a content little moan, pressing yourself into him. He decided, right there, that he would be the one to absolutely ruin you, and he’d enjoy every second of it.

He slowly ran his hands further and further up your thighs, each pass coming closer to your core. You were squirming, wiggling and trying to get closer to him, your hips keening. He groaned into your mouth as you brushed against his cock, already hardened. You paused for a brief second, before doing it again.

“Fuck,” he cursed, before flipping you and kneeling before you, tugging legs to bring you right to the edge of the couch. You yelped and braced yourself on his shoulders, planting your feet on either side of him. You were wearing a dress, and nothing but a scrap of silk separated him from touching you, feeling how wet you were for him - he could already scent and see it, but gods all he wanted right now was to taste you. Lorcan let out a long breath, reminding himself to go slowly.

You were gazing down at him, eyes half lidded with lust and lips swollen. His thumbs caressed the inside of your thighs and you shivered under his touch. He rose, just enough to grip the back of your head and tug you down for another kiss, digging his fingers in just enough to keep you in place. You ran your hands down his chest, and he fought the urge to hiss as your cold fingers slid under his shirt, thumbs running over the planes of his stomach.

You separated from him, and gazed at him, tugging at the bottom of the shirt. “Take this off.”

“Needy,” he murmured affectionately, ignoring your squawk of indignance and crossed his arms to toss his shirt to the side. Your eyes gleamed as you took him in, the planes of his stomach, the dark hair of his chest. Lorcan felt oddly … on display, but didn't mind it as your nails dragged down his chest. Light strokes, not enough to bring any pain, but your teeth tugged on your bottom lip as you ran your hands over his chest, down his torso, right towards the edge of your pants. That’s when he caught your wrists.

“Enough for now.” Lorcan pushed gently on your shoulders, letting your body melt back into the pillows. He resumed his strokes up your thighs, slowly getting closer and closer to your core.

You knew, objectively, that Lorcan hadn’t done much, but every one of his touches seemed to set you on fire. The way he groaned underneath you, how his hard length felt against your core - only fabric separating the two of you. You wanted him, and badly enough it started to scare you. “You’re stalling,” you complained.

“And you’re being impatient,” he countered, and settled back on his heels. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Your cheeks flooded this time, bright red - but with embarrassment instead. “I can’t,” you whispered.

“Yes, you can.” His eyes were unyielding, and you got the sense that if you didn’t, he wouldn’t go any further.

“You’re supposed to be the one helping me.” You tried to hedge.

“And I will. Show me.” You reached out to kick him, and he caught your foot, pressing a kiss to the inside of your calf. “Be good,” he warned.

“Fine,” you grumbled, and hiked your dress up, bunching it around your hips. You thoroughly enjoyed how his eyes darkened, zeroing in on the wet spot you knew was between your thighs. Maybe it was the whiskey, but a sudden bit of boldness rushed through you, and you brought your knees up, shimmying to pull off your underwear. You made it halfway down your thighs before his hands caught yours, pulling it off the rest of the way before discarding them haphazardly to the side.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, and a smile started to creep onto your face. The fresh air hit you, the breeze coming in from the window was enough to draw a strangled whimper out of you. Lorcan’s hands gripped the inside of your knees, spreading you apart and instinctively you tried to draw them back together, but his grip didn’t budge, he only tore his eyes away from your cunt to look up at you. “What are you waiting for?”

You trailed your fingers over your thighs, carefully running one up your folds. Before he could stop himself, he caught your hand and brought your finger to his mouth. The fucking taste of you, you tasted so damn sweet, a clean kind of sweetness with a rich undertone that would drive him mad. He convinced himself he could get drunk off of it - even more the way your pupils dilated as he swirled his tongue around your finger. He released it, a smirk on his face, before guiding your hand back to your sweet cunt. “Go on,” he encouraged you.

You bit on your bottom lip, running a small circle around your clit. Your eyes closed, circling again before pressing in lightly. His gaze switched rapidly between your expression and your hand, the way you carefully explored yourself, squirming as if you couldn’t figure out exactly where to touch. All you wanted was him. His hands, his tongues, anything as long as it was Lorcan touching you.

Your hand stilled and your eyes opened. “Touch me. Please touch me, Lorcan.”

The sound of his name on your tongue broke the rest of his self control, and he threw one on your legs over his shoulder. He blew against your clit, eyes watching to see your reaction, and sucked your clit.

“Oh,” your mouth parted, eyes wide as you watched him.

Honestly, you couldn’t really tell what he was doing, but it felt so damn good you would’ve begged him not to stop. Lorcan had one of your thighs thrown over his shoulder, gripping the other firmly to keep your legs spread for him. You gasped as one finger teased your entrance and he paused, looking up to meet your eyes and you could read the words in his gaze; “is this alright?”

“Don’t fucking stop,” you hissed, and his lips twitched at the corners. Your walls clenched around him as his finger entered, your body squirming at the strange sensation. He crooked his finger, hitting a soft spot on the front of the walls, and you threw your head back in a silent scream.

Your entire body seemed to coil up, sweat starting to glisten on the back of your neck. Release, that’s what it felt like - everything exploding inside of you, all consuming and euphoric, almost on the border of being too much. Slowly, you felt yourself come down from the high, your body sated and limp with pleasure.

Lorcan slid his finger out of you, and had an almost predatory look in his eyes, one that made your pulse flutter. “Gods, y/n.” He groaned.

“Was that …?” your voice trailed off.

“Yes. It was.” You licked your lips, your eyes trailing down his body, towards where he was straining against his pants. That felt … incredible and you wanted to make him feel that way, to have him come undone for you just like you did for him. “Not today.”

“Why?” You whined, sitting up, and Lorcan had to take a second to compose himself.

“This is about you.” He rubbed gentle circles to the inside of your thighs. Watching you finish, and knowing he was the one giving you your first filled him with immense satisfaction. Satisfied that he was the one bringing you there, for the first time. Almost like he’d left a mark on you, something you’d always remember.

“I want .. I want more.”

“Greedy girl.” He hummed, ignoring the disgruntled noise coming from you.

“You’re being mean.” Your bottom lip stuck out slightly, and he flicked it, but rose to his feet, tugging you to stand before switching spots, back to the position you were earlier, although your legs were shaking this time - he noticed with some satisfaction as he ran his hands up and down your thighs. You moved quickly enough he didn’t catch it, and your hand palmed him through his pants.

His hips jerked and he cursed under his breath, catching your hand before you could do anything else, anything else that might make him bend you over the side of this couch and split you in half. Hellas knows he wanted to, but he held himself back - he didn’t want to overwhelm you. And … part of him wanted to drag this out for as long as you’d let him, and if that meant waiting and holding back then he was fully capable of doing it. His hand pressed you back into his chest, slipping under your dress to run firm strokes up and down your back.

- Even though you were still borderline painfully aroused, a wave of exhaustion did take over you, and you figured you could handle resting your eyes for a few minutes. His hand running against your skin had your breaths evening out, and before you realized your head had dropped onto his shoulder, soaking in his warmth, a hum of content came from your chest. Safe, you could trust Lorcan, trust him with your vulnerability. You were very glad he offered.

#kinktober 2023 #throne of glass fic #throne of glass smut #lorcan salvaterre x y/n #lorcan salvaterre x reader

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