#acotar Lucien | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

btsbabe7 · 5 months ago

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Lost Love 🥀

Word Count: 4.8k

Pairing: Lucien x reader, Rhysand x reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, choking kink

Synopsis: Known to all, the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand, has a short list of people he trusts, let alone interacts with. To your own surprise, that trust has somehow extended to you, allowing him access. But with Rhysand being on Tamlin’s list of enemies, his frequent visits don’t go unnoticed by a certain member of the Spring Court, whom suspects the Lord of the Night may be staking claim, an interest, in something that was once his.

It isn’t until the shadow in the corner of your room darkens in the midst of the night that you realize you’re once again being blessed by the presence of the cunning, yet clever High Lord of the Night Court. His amethyst eyes cast purple glimmers your way while the rest of his ensemble appears to fade into the surrounding darkness of your room as he nears your bed.

“How did you get in here? How’d you get passed the sentries again?”

Rhysand cocks his head, still amused that you’re interested in things as trivial as how he’s managed to sneak in once again. The point is that he is here now.

“Tamlin has weak spots. One would think he’d be more careful considering the ones he holds dear dwell within these walls.”

You smirk, a cocky little grin before pulling him into your bed. Both of your nightly ensembles are just a few shuffles away from being stripped off, and within seconds, you’re both completely naked and enraptured by each other’s touch.

Rhysand’s hand flattens against your belly as you plant lazy kisses against his parted mouth. His eyes flicker towards yours in amusement as he pulls back to watch you squirm the closer his hand descends towards your own dungeon.

“So impatient,” he chuckles deeply.

“If you’re going to enter my mind, at least do without the physical torment. I’ve already allowed myself to open up to you in too many ways.”

“I can think of a few others,” he teases and licks a stripe up the center of your lips. “You taste delicious.”

So does he, but you don’t have the patience to say so.

“Rhysand,” you groan as his hand stops abruptly against your mound.

He scoffs, shaking his head in disapproval before obeying your command. He presses his lips against your neck, feeling your thumping pulse underneath the flesh before swirling wide, uniform circles over your clitoris. As you gasp, he nips at your neck causing you to sink back into his embrace with a low moan. He never took pleasure in keeping you quiet and he never cared who heard the lewd noises he planned to lure from your vocal cords night after night, and tonight would be no different.

“Rhys…”

“Mhm?” He taunts, circling his digits so fast that your breath catches in your throat.

“Make love to me…”

His teeth graze against your neck once more before he falters. You slip onto all fours in front of him. You reach back and take his length into your hand with a hum, knowing you’ll be satisfied by him as always.

You let out a breathy, pained moan through clenched teeth as he enters you slowly, still mindful of how swollen you’ve been from the prior days of him being lodged inside of you. There’s something surreal about him sneaking in, fornicating with you, holding you until you fell asleep in his arms, then leaving you with a kiss on the forehead just before slipping out at the break of dawn. Sometimes you found yourself relishing in the thought during your day to day activities, craving it long into the night until he reappeared.

“Not very High Fae of you to be on your knees in front of me,” Rhysand groans. “But the sounds coming from you sound so delicious. I already can’t wait to have you again tomorrow.”

“Rhys, we both know this is—” You gasp as he grasps your throat and gives it a gentle squeeze before thrusting mercilessly into your swollen folds.

“Were you going to say something, darling?” He mocks and strokes your curls as harsh moans flood from your parted mouth. He knows you hate when he calls you that. “You’ve always been such an exemplary High Fae. I’m beginning to wonder where the hell it all went wrong.”

Your eyes roll back, breath stifled and voice restricted as Rhysand fucks you into oblivion for the remainder of the night with his hand still cupped firmly around your throat.

“Rhysand was detected within the house again. Looking for Feyre no doubt,” Tamlin states matter-of-factly over a plate full of assorted meat and fruit he hasn’t touched even once.

You glance towards Feyre—watching, gauging her expression for whatever connection she may have to Rhysand aside from the tattoo inked on her arm. You’d always wondered what the pair did while she was away at the mysterious Night Court for a week each month. Rhysand had even extended the invitation to you, but you knew if Tamlin got word of it, there’d be a never-ending war between the two. Feyre had told you about her arrangement during the few times you two were able to find yourselves alone in your short time back. Though, you still can’t decipher why Tamlin believed Rhysand had been there for her in the first place when it wasn’t her allotted week of the month.

Much to your surprise, Feyre has mastered the art of stillness in her features, but her hands still fall short of that mastery. Her grip tightens around the goblet, so tight that you fear it may shatter at her will. And for Tamlin’s sake, she manages to withhold.

Had Rhysand been looking for her when he’d snuck into the manor from the start?

It would explain why he’d felt so comfortable roaming room after room, seeking something or someone out the very first night you’d caught him in the dark hallway—the glitz of glamour never fooled you. Just two more doors and he would’ve found her plastered against Tamlin’s chest, dreaming peacefully now that she’s begun to come to terms with her past. He only had to sneak by two more doors all the nights that followed, but instead he stopped his search entirely to sneak into yours.

You snort, swirling the clear water in your own glass before taking a swig.

“Is something funny?” Tamlin inquires.

You lazily move your eyes from Feyre to the extended claws of the High Fae to the right of you at the head of the table.

Fucking Tamlin.

You could snort again, laugh even, at his childish expression of anger. He’s always had a hard time controlling his rage, even as a child. It’s a shame to see that he hasn’t picked up as quickly as his counterpart on mastering the art of stillness—the real illusion, the real glamour of this world.

You smile in amusement before responding, “It’s just a shame that security seems to be lacking around here. I could’ve returned much sooner had I known.”

“There isn’t much need for it now that our powers are back and Amarantha is dead,” Lucien counters.

You toss him a warning glance so he remembers his place.

“Furthermore, even with our powers being returned, it’s concerning that High Fae like Rhysand still manage to slip within these walls. Old protector of Tamlin aside, this is now the fourth night just this week, is it not?”

Tamlin’s eyes narrow in on yours. His poor way of attempting to read you.

“Do you know more than you’re letting on about Rhysand’s frequent visits within our walls?”

You glance at the water again, watching the swirling come to a calm, steady halt. A distorted reflection of Lucien, who sits across from you dances beyond it, and the glimmering gems of the crystal chandelier above dances on the surface. You stare at it, still unperturbed by Tamlin’s inquiries.

“I don’t have time to toil over old family feuds. Perhaps you should befriend this High Fae? Maybe he will then learn to knock on the front door instead of sneaking in. Maybe he can even eat breakfast with us.”

Tamlin claws into the table, jaw clenched, and Feyre’s eyes meet yours, but you don’t need to put up a mental shield to know what she’s attempting to do. Your shield has always stood strong, your main issue has always been being able to let it down.

“I’ll also be busy, so don’t bother coming to find me today,” you mutter while placing the glass on the table before escorting yourself out of the sickeningly beautiful dining hall.

It isn’t long before a knock on your door has you rolling your eyes in annoyance. You slip your miniature, dragon-handled dagger between the pages of your book and set it on the wooden nightstand with an irritable sigh.

“I do believe I said I didn’t want to be bothered today,” you groan and swing the door open.

Golden rays of sunlight flood throughout the room, extending its grace through the open door, and illuminating the red hair and bright eyes of your unannounced guest. You’ve been expecting Feyre all morning, the always curious fiancé of Tamlin, but you now find yourself blessed by the presence of Tamlin’s emissary.

“Lucien.”

You move aside, allowing him to step inside and close the door swiftly behind him. He’s silent as he steps in further, surveying around the room, searching for something. Perhaps evidence of your dealings with a particular High Lord or anything that goes against precious Tamlin’s wishes and rules.

“What is it you’re looking for exactly?”

“Was he here?”

You shake your head in amazement, too thoroughly entertained to respond immediately. Lucien has always been one for good fun and a bit of theatrics, so you’re sure he won’t mind the long pause.

“Was who here?”

He whirls towards you and much to your surprise, not an inkling of sarcasm or enjoyment lingers in his stare. He hasn’t come to play games; he is serious this time. He paces the space between you two, leaving as much as a hands length between your bodies.

You glance at him smugly, teasingly.

“He was wasn’t he? He’s been sneaking in to be with you?”

“I’m not sure what or who you’re referring to, Lucien.”

“Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court.”

You snicker.

“Ah, you think I’m the High Fae’s plaything? His concubine? I guess that would be better than becoming his spy, right? Easier to conceal.”

Lucien’s eyes focus on yours and you have to snap your gaze away. It’s been so long since the both of you found yourselves this close. Much too long to find it as comforting as you once had, especially with him interrogating you on Rhysand.

“Everything I do is for good reason, nothing more, and surely nothing less,” you state sternly.

“So, you and I? For good reason or just good fun?”

“Both,” you admit, now waltzing around him to escape his piercing gaze.

“I don’t care if he was here in the manor. I don’t care that he’s sneaking in multiple times a week, slipping through our defenses. He always had that advantage. I just want to know if he’s lain in this bed… with you.”

You stop your pacing, thanking the Cauldron that you’re facing the breezing golden-speckled curtains on the far side of the bedroom. You’re grateful that he hadn’t witnessed your smirk straighten into a hard line when the last two words slipped into the air, lingering in your ears, in your mind, between old lovers.

“What’s it matter to you, Lucien, who I lie and don’t lie with?”

You hear his breath catch in his throat, followed by a guttural groan.

“You know why it matters to me, Y/n.”

You swallow the lump that’s begun to rise in your throat, wishing nothing more than to have that stupid glass of water you’d been clinging to all morning. Now, more than ever, you need something to help subdue the dryness, the pain burning through your veins.

You turn quick on your heels and face him, only to run right into his slender, muscular chest.

Had your mind been so loud that you haven’t heard him cross the room?

Another golden ray catches in his eyes, illuminating the russet color of his original eye, and the metallic gold that now takes the place of the one he’d lost so long ago. You stare into it, a reminder of good things lost and replaced, broken but fixed, lost and found again. But your ship with Lucien on it had long sailed decades ago.

“You know why he sent me away,” you breathe.

You still remember that day as if it were yesterday. The day you’d been snatched from Lucien’s arms by Tamlin and sent away from the Spring Court, temporarily banished from your home for falling in love with the red-maned High Fae in the midst of the dire curse. At the beginning of it all, Tamlin only deemed finding his own love necessary in order to break it. Finding a human that matches Amarantha’s requirements felt endless. He couldn’t afford distractions and he surely couldn’t afford for his emissary to become distracted, not when he needed him most.

“But you’re back.”

“Lucien, I made a promise that I wouldn’t come back unless my love for you had faded. Tamlin couldn’t afford distractions. I was putting everything at risk…”

“We,” he corrects and steps closer. “You weren’t alone in that decision, and as you said, you could only return if it lessened, not if your love for me had disappeared altogether. And with the curse broken, we can start over.”

You try to fight a childish grin.

He and Tamlin have always managed to find loopholes in things, a way to steer things their way. You too are the same at your core. It’s the very reason you’d been able to return. You’d made a bargain of your own to return here. A bargain to remove a bit of the love you felt for him at a cost, a debt only you could pay. You knew you could live without loving him as much, but you couldn’t live without him in your life. You had to pay a price to be here, to see him again. But soon, your expression hardens again. No matter what you feel for Lucien now, it doesn’t change the fact that Rhysand has managed to grow on you, and you on him over the last few months.

“Lucien, Rhys and I—“

“Rhys, really?” He sounds like Tamlin, a deep disapproval in his tone, judging you and your poor decisions. “Y/n, tell me you didn’t. Not with him.”

You shake your head slowly.

You’ve done many things to Lucien, but lying to him is where you’ve always drawn the line. You could snake your way out of Feyre’s snares and mind traps if you needed, Rhysand’s too. You could divert conversations with Tamlin, a skill you’d both picked up from the High Fae that led these lands just a generation before you two. You could even swindle a High Fae or two, tricking them into allowing you shelter in their courts to escape being Under the Mountain, but you’ve always given Lucien the truth, even if it hurt him.

He falters, staggers so much that he finds himself sitting at the edge of your unmade bed. His head falls in anguish, a sea of red shielding his delicate features as he stares at something on the floor, staring at anything besides you. You know his mind is reeling, that he’s disgusting by the idea of the High Lord of the Night Court even breathing the same air as you, let alone touching you. In his eyes, Rhysand had defiled you.

“I’m going to kill him.” He says it so matter-of-factly that your heart skips a beat.

“Why?”

“I’m going to kill Rhysand for touching you. For breathing your air, for sneaking in and defiling you in this very manor—the same manor that houses your brother and his soon-to-be wife, that houses me.”

Your head spins and you want to hurl. You wince as the lingering high that had originated from the pleasure of Rhysand’s hands grazing against your supple body and curls, the feeling of heat that spread from his lips being pressed into your spine as his skilled fingers wrung your neck just hard enough to keep you turned on, the warmth of his tongue lapping over your nipples, only for him to leave them prickling in the coolness of the night as he ravished you night after night fades with Lucien’s last statement.

The room falls silent for only a moment.

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you reply sharply, the words filled with the only anger you can muster towards him because even you aren’t heartless enough to deny him the right to his angry.

Lucien glares up at you.

“That’s all you care about? You can’t possibly think Tamlin is clueless, not after that little show you put on over breakfast.”

“If Tamlin suspects anything, he surely acted clueless, and I know my brother. He doesn’t know why Rhysand has been here. He’ll try to find out, and try as he might, he won’t get the answer he’s searching for, especially not from you.”

Lucien rises to his feet, rises to the challenge like a true warrior.

“You doubt that I’ll report you? That I’ll fail to expose Rhysand’s frequent escapades? Tamlin’s rules are the law we follow here, whether you like it or not.”

You sigh through your nostrils, eyes narrowing at the thought that kind of humiliation would bring your brother. The High Lord of the Spring Court having a sister who shacks up with his enemy in his own home, treacherous. Tamlin would become the joke of Prythian, if he hasn’t already managed to do so on his own.

“He’d be humiliated. And at what expense?”

“He’d know the truth.”

You scoff at the idea of truth.

Tamlin always knew the truth in the end, but in his own childish ways, he’s always chosen what he wished to believe and what he chooses to react to. He is a leader through and through, no matter who gets hurt in the process.

“And where did that get us last time, Luc?”

You both know it’s not worth the risk, not if he ever wants to see you again. He knows that the moment Tamlin banishes you, you’ll be relocated to the Night Court with Rhysand courting you until the end of eternity or until one of you grew bored. Either way, you wouldn’t return this time and Lucien couldn’t bear that thought. It would drive him mad knowing that he would be practically handing you over to Rhysand with a shiny bow tied to your golden wings if he were to report you. Lucien’s eyebrows unknit themselves and he sits up a bit taller as his eyes continue to roam over you.

You’d only managed to slip from your bodice and dress before he’d knocked, leaving the curves of your body clothed in a deep crimson lace. You’d forgotten about indecency the moment he’d stepped into the room, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes trace over the two budges of pillowy flesh cascading over the sheer, delicate lace that covers only two-thirds of your chest. Something primal overtakes you when his eyes fixate there. And as if he’s beckoning you, you’re lured into his lap, stroking long strands of auburn through your manicured fingers. Your fingers run down to the ends and come back up to cup his face. You two exchange a glance that admits everything that needs to be said, no words fill the space, only lips against lips. Flesh upon flesh.

Lucien kisses you hungrily, ascending a hand up the length of your spine before cupping the nape of your neck and hoisting you on top of him as he lies back on the unclean, silky, white sheets. He knows what happened here just the night before, you both know, but neither of you care in this moment. In just a breath, your body is yearning for him to end decades worth of aching, decades of torment from being ripped apart.

Lucien unfastens the clasps of your bra, but your mouths never part. As he guides the straps down the length of your arms, you struggle with unfastening the buttons of his trousers fast enough. He chuckles into your mouth after your irritable huff slips into his own. Only then does he pull away, just enough to meet your darkening eyes. You follow the sound of your bra clasping against the floor, but Lucien pulls your gaze back towards him. There’s a glistening in his own eyes and not from the sun. You wish more than ever that you could embrace the stillness you had mastered over the decades, but you never could with Lucien. You still can’t now, not with his breath tickling strands of your curls against your hunched shoulders and his eyes focused on your entire being.

He unbuttons his tunic first, painfully slow as if it’s his own form of punishment for sleeping with someone else in this very bed. The moment it’s off, you caress the richness of his skin, taking in the warmth of it against your palms. You’ve missed touching him.

You’ve missed him for decades at a time.

Lucien unfastens the remaining buttons of his trousers and bucks his hips effortlessly to work them off. You don’t move an inch aside from coming up in the slightest to allow him to slip them mid-thigh. He kicks the remainder off with ease and they fall to the floor with a thud.

“We didn’t lock the door,” you whisper.

“I don’t care about the damn door,” he sighs sharply and pulls you in so fast your head begins to spin again.

His lips are starved for yours, smothering against your own as every twist turns into a fruitful attempt to pry yours open wider. He presses his tongue inside, groaning sensually at the taste of pomegranate and cardamom lingering on your tongue from breakfast. He licks his tongue against yours, then the roof of your mouth before quickly withdrawing it just as fast as it’d come.

You let out a soft giggle against him as your hands find their rightful place in the red mess cascading against white sheets. Your giggle quickly turns into a stifling breath the moment you feel him working his length against your own heat, the damp lace between your thighs ripped to shreds in his free hand. It’s been so long since you’ve had him this way, at least forty years. You’ve waited a long time to be back in Lucien’s arms and no High Fae of this world would take that from you again.

In one breath, you think of Rhysand, his amethyst colored eyes, the feeling of his short, course hair against your fingertips, the soft darkness of his demeanor turning you on as he fucked you into oblivion for four nights this week alone. In the next breath, every prior thought becomes muddled when Lucien’s length spills into you. You swear you can see stars as your eyes roll back and close in sheer pleasure.

“Luc…” His nickname spills from your lips as if it’s the sweetest song he’s ever heard and he groans in response the moment your hips begin to roll.

You don’t have to open your eyes to know his are shut too, you can feel it in the pulsing wedged between your swollen walls. You can feel it in the heat that pools at his core and where your fingers are placed against his thrumming chest. You rock your hips rhythmically, rejoicing in the almost forgotten feeling of him. You missed the soft burning that came with his girth stretching you out, the feeling of his hands plastered against your hips, your breasts, and the nape of your neck when he needed you closer.

He could never get you close enough.

“Y/n,” Lucien howls, causing your eyes to lazily open towards him.

It was a mistake to look at him, a mistake to lie eyes upon a creature so beautiful when you’re already teetering on the edge of reality.

He lies sprawl out underneath you, eyes heavy and drunk on you. His brows knit softly as if he’s attempting to fight back the feeling of all the pleasure hitting him at once. His lips are parted as yours are, spilling deep squeals and heavy pants flowing throughout the room and swirling in your eardrums like a melody you’ll both never tire of. His mane is sweaty and wild, sprawling out in all directions around his head. And gold, you see it all around you. Golden light filtering through the curtains, throughout the room again, dancing in his eyes as if the sun knows that your only secret, your weakness, is him.

And you fall apart.

Both of Lucien’s hands find your waist again and cascade up your spine, drawing you in until you’re chest to chest, breathing and panting as one. He flips you over, only slipping out for a second before slipping back inside of you with a groan too loud to ignore.

“Lucien,” you purr mercilessly.

You can’t get enough of him. You can’t get enough of the feeling of him stuffed inside, so deep that you’re attempting to bottle up the feeling up to savor for the rest of your life if you two are ever forced apart again. He kisses into your neck, your chest, your breasts, leaving you a panting, moaning mess beneath him. You wrap your legs around him, planting your feet firmly on his flexing muscles, driving him deeper until there’s no space left inside of you.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, eyes blown in pure bliss.

Thank the Cauldron is what you want to shout for finally reuniting you two.

Lucien’s skin melds into yours and his strokes become slower and lengthener, much deeper. Every movement of his hips has you gasping and clasping against his sweaty body, clinging to his biceps as your own core begins to tighten. You can feel the fire igniting inside of you, starting in your chest and traveling towards your own core with each slip. Your legs had fallen off of him, lazily spread on either side of him as he thrusts a bit harder. A sudden momentum overtakes him and the lewd clapping of flesh against flesh can certainly be heard by anyone who dared to come near the vicinity and certainly by the excellent hearing of the higher faes dwelling within these very walls.

“Y/n,” he grunts, cupping each side of your face. His right thumb drags down your bottom lip and you bite it softly as sweat spills from the tip of his nose onto your chest.

You smile at him, taking in the beautiful sight in front of you. He’s always been the most beautiful creature to you. Lucien, the son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. Lucien, whose eye had been stole by Amarantha because of your brother’s actions. Lucien, the survivor of many trials. Lucien, the emissary of Tamlin and a loyal member of this court. Lucien, your very first and only true love.

Your body shudders and the moan that escapes as a result shreds through the fabric of ecstasy and reality. It takes everything in your being to keep your wings tucked in from the sheer pleasure shooting through your body, coursing through your veins and nerves. In the same moment, all sense of poise leaves Lucien, expels from his body as he plunges into your watering depths until he too has lost all senses.

A bellowing groan escapes his lips as he falters almost immediately. He digs his nails into the surrounding sheets instead of tearing your flesh and his noise rumbles between your breasts. You huff a laugh and pull his chin up towards you, taking his mouth against yours as he spills into you, finally claiming you as his own. You push his hair back with a weak grin, softening under his touch before kissing him deeply once more.

You stay in this position for what seems to be forever, wrapped in each other’s naked embrace, breathing in the rhythmic noise of two hearts beating as one. You never want to miss him again. You never want to lose him again. You never want a day to pass where you don’t tell him how you feel.

“I love you,” you whisper softly, stroking his hair in the same tone.

Your heart beats wildly against his eardrum; you can feel it in your own chest, in your entire being. You’d failed to say those words aloud before your brother sent you away, and so many times before. You’d known from the moment he’d been offered a place in this court that you loved him, even if he didn’t feel the same way at the time. You knew you had to tell him once you were able to be with him again.

He nods knowingly against you, shifting his head on your chest to meet your glistening eyes.

Lucien doesn’t even wait another heartbeat before saying, “I love you too.”

A/N: Please don’t come for meeee! I just finished ACOTAR and am just staring ACOMAF, so I’m still a newbie learning all the characters and this world. I haven’t read any fanfics yet and don’t plan to until I finish for the sake of spoilers. I’m already partial to Rhysand (nothing hotter than a misunderstood dark lord) and Lucien (who deserves all the love in the world), so I couldn’t pick just one. I wrote this on a whim last night with probably not enough editing. It’s kind of short and would love to write more on this, but I know I’ll overthink and mess things up. Anyways, I’ve been a bit nervous about posting, so I hope it reached the right audience. 🥲🧚🏾‍♀️♥️

Running away to continue to reading ACOMAF again!

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ Perfect Storm (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Rain Does Not Fall on One Roof Alone (m.) - Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Untitled (m.) - Sebastian Sallow x Ominis Gaunt x reader

⚡︎ Golden - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ Coffee (Love You a Latte) - Sebastian Sallow x reader

⚡︎ For You Always (m.) - Severus Snape x reader

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

August 2024

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