Lucien Looks Like One Of Those Male Protagonists From Enemies To Lovers Tropes, Who Loves To Torture

thyon my goat. Anyone who swear they r his fan more than I will be eradicated 🙏 have to be the top spot on his booty call 📞

genuinely i think you are his one and only fan and defender so i think you're good... for now ;)

h what r u not comfortable with writing

as long as it doesn't involve poop kinks

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 ( y! dragon x m! human reader )

yandere! dragon x male! human reader

warnings:

nsfw

throne sex

overstimulation

the dragon has two pp's and a long tongue

i think my tumblr looks a little like a desert rn since I haven't posted anything in a while, so take this old smut oneshot of mine that I posted months ago in watt and q. for like context: it's from a fic of mine called mythical devotion, but the really important fact is that the dragon's name is Idris and the mc, you, are the current ruler/king hehe.

Frankly, you still find yourself questioning how it is that you've led yourself into this situation.

The empty throne room is filled only by the audible sound of your breath. Idris towers over you as you remain seated on the throne, his claws tight around your skin, digging securely into your arms like a vice.

Suppressing a grimace, you lift your chin, meeting the dragon's gaze. "What is the meaning of this, Idris?"

There is an almost single-minded intensity from how Idris is watching you, and you gulp as you receive no answer from the other, unsettled by the rare silence.

"Idris…?" you murmur his name, a furrow of concern creasing your brow before it vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

A startled gasp escapes your lips as Idris suddenly makes himself at home, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he whispers,

"[Name]."

Idris’s voice is pitched lower than usual, like fire trailing down your skin. You can’t stop the instinctive shiver that runs through your body at the sound of it. You attempt to move, but Idris’s grasp on you remains unyielding.

A deep inhale reaches your ears, and you frown, holding your breath. Is Idris... inhaling your scent? You can't even begin to understand why.

You've been sitting all day on the throne, addressing endless requests and grappling with the council's demands. There is nothing there for the dragon to smell except for your sweat.

You shift again, but you are caught off guard by what happens next. Idris emits a low groan into your ear before the sharp sting of fangs sinks into your neck. "Ah—!"

Blood trickles down.

A searing tongue laps up each bead of blood, sending a fiery tremor down your spine with each wet lick of his tongue. A fleeting smile brushes against the juncture of your shoulder and neck.

"You've been so consumed in your duties, Your Majesty. Not even a moment spared for your adoring beloved. How very, very rude, my sweet little darling. Discourteous, even."

Heat brushes against your cheek as you become aware of the rigid, hard presence pressing against your thigh. Oh, this is...

Your mind scrambles for purchase, desperately seeking an escape from Idris’s unexpected fervor. You have to find a way out of here.

Certainly, you had brushed aside Idris's presence most of the time he visited you in the throne room, but still. "I was— Of course I was busy. I have a kingdom to manage and rule over, I can't just—"

Idris tuts you to silence, his lips gently nibbling at your ear. "Wrong answer."

Idris climbs onto the throne, wedging a leg between yours and pushing you further back into the velvet seat.

There is the promise of being devoured whole in those dilated golden eyes. As you bare your throat to Idris, you can't ignore the unmistakable pool of desire reflected in the dragon’s gaze, crowding you entirely, palpable and consuming.

"You have the freedom to walk away at any moment, [Name]. But I doubt you would, prideful thing you are," Idris remarks, his finger trailing down your cheek before tilting your chin upward, bringing your face closer to his.

It's dizzying, disorienting, and when it all subsides, you see it.

Despite Idris looming over you, it feels as though the dragon himself is the one on his knees, pure awe etched on his features, a reverent finger caressing the contours of your cheek. What does Idris see in you, you wonder.

Sometimes, you still cannot comprehend Idris’s mind. How is it that the dragon holds such devotion for your entire being? There is always love—an overwhelming love—that threatens to engulf you whole.

Idris has yet to resume any of his firm touches, but at the same time, he does not move away, a maddening smirk playing upon his lips.

A surge of annoyance courses through you at the sight. Without hesitation, you shake off Idris's grasp—something akin to triumph crosses Idris's face—and pull the annoying dragon down by the neck, crashing your lips together.

You are the one who started the kiss, but Idris is the one who controls it.

The pace is slow at first, your head tilted up to accommodate the embrace, but soon Idris’s long tongue delves deeper, coaxing your head to the side as if to consume you. Your muffled whimpers are drowned out by Idris’s groans, and your shaky hands desperately clutch at his frame.

It isn’t until you are nearly out of breath that Idris allows your lips to part. Desire curls low in your stomach.

"Don't lose your breath so early now, [Name]," Idris tells you, a smile on his face. "We've barely just begun, hm?"

You glare in reply, gripping tightly onto his shoulder. "And whose fault is that, dragon?" you question back, words barely audible from how out of breath you are.

Idris chuckles sharply in reply before, strangely enough, moving away from you.

"Idris, you— What exactly are you—" Your words falter easily as Idris kneels and tugs both your pants and underwear down before casting them aside. A sharp pang of shame ignites as your arousal springs forth, hard and slick already.

"Oh, [Name]," Idris begins, voice laden with want, "you're always so eager for me, aren't you?"

"Move," you stammer, eyes roaming across the room, "Not here, Idris. This place is—"

Idris’s body abruptly shoots up, his fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to meet the gaze of his golden eyes and nothing else. "There's no one here, Your Majesty. Just you and me."

Those golden eyes remain fixed on you, capturing every nuance of your expression. You shut your eyes in shame, trying to evade the piercing scrutiny as best you can.

"That won't do," Idris chides gently, "I need you to look at me, [Name]."

You stubbornly keep your eyes closed, denying the request, and Idris hums, releasing his hold to go back down and—

"Ah—!"

A firm hand closes around your erection, and your hips instinctively buck. However, Idris’s unoccupied hand swiftly pins you down, and you moan, loudly, your body twitching at the dragon's casual display of strength.

"Still refusing to look, even now?" Idris whispers, his breath teasing your arousal, and you bite down on your lips, stifling another moan. "This is unfair, you know? I've been patiently waiting for you all day." The hand on your cock twists and tightens, and you use all your strength to swallow down the scream of a whimper that threatens to escape.

"Open your eyes for me, [Name]. Please." Idris's plea is soft, a stark contrast to the dragon's unrelentingly pressing body, his every touch branding you as his.

Swallowing a hiss, you try to sort out your words and force your mouth open in an attempt at protest, but your words die in your throat as Idris adjusts his grip. He places a hand on your shaking thigh, pulls, and hoists your leg over his shoulder, baring everything.

You finally open your eyes, see the cruel smirk on the dragon's lips. "N-no. This position—"

"Look at you. Still so pretty, even here," Idris murmurs softly, golden eyes trailing between your legs, almost spellbound. "I've always wanted to taste more than your lips."

Humiliation courses through you as you try to shield your twitching hole with your other leg, preserving whatever modesty it is you have left, but with a speed that you've rarely seen in the dragon, Idris's other hand swiftly seizes your leg and pins it down firmly.

"Don't hide away," Idris whispers, his tone sweet like saccharine, a wicked smile on his lips before the dragon maneuvers your leg even higher, eliciting a whimper from your throat. "You'll enjoy this, dear. Trust me," Idris says sweetly as he moves and licks his tongue into your hole.

Your entire body spasms, your leg instinctively clamping down on Idris’s shoulder as the persistent probing of his long tongue inside you sends waves and waves of pleasure coursing through your veins, a never-ending sensation shooting up your spine.

"Ah, ah, Idris—!"

Idris hums inside you, and tremors rack your frame, the vibrations shaking you to the core. Your hands scramble helplessly on the armrests of your throne.

"Idris— Idris, please—"

You whine, tears welling in your eyes as sobs escape your bitten lips.

You try to stifle the moans rising, crawling, from your throat but you can't. Idris denies you of it, immobilizing both your hands with his tail as the dragon's tongue slithers impossibly deep. "Stop, I can't— Idris, Idris, no—"

In response, his tongue curls inside of you, deftly spreading your walls, searching for that bundle of sensitive nerves that'll send you spasming and spiraling into ecstasy.

Idris finds it, easily, and with dark lustful eyes staring right at you, the cruel dragon presses his tongue unrelentingly against your prostate.

You tense, your body arching, jaw slack as your eyes roll back into your head. With a loud sob, you shatter, cum splattering on your royal attire, your body going limp as you gulp for air like a drowning man, eyes struggling to focus under the haze of pleasure, senses reeling in the aftermath of it all.

"Who am I to ever deny you, my dearest love," Idris breathes out, withdrawing his tongue and replacing it with two slender figures. Alarm bells flicker within you.

You suck in a sharp breath.

"Haven't you— had enough yet...?" you ask, voice barely audible. Idris gives you an amused huff, taking out his fingers as the dragon removes his pants, revealing his hard, leaking erections.

"There's still a long night ahead, hm?" is the answer you receive before he manhandles you to a different position. Your back is pressed firmly against the throne, your hands still bound by the dragon's tail as Idris's hands grip open your thighs.

A lovely blush sits high on your face as Idris leans toward you, his lips brushing against yours. "Don't scream too loudly, [Name]." Idris draws his cocks to slide between your ass, teasing gently against your perineum. "All right?"

"Ngh—"

Idris smiles, radiant eyes crinkling at the corners as he guides his cocks to where you are waiting, open and eager.

Your mouth falls agape as Idris enters you, a rush of delirium washing over you as you watch the dragon's cocks disappearing into you, inch by inch, until Idris reaches the deepest part of you, bottoming out with a groan.

It helps that this isn't your first time together with the dragon, but the sensation of fullness still overwhelms you. Coupled with the searing stretch, you can't suppress the loud, keening, almost broken moan that rips itself from your throat.

"You're so big," you mumble, filter completely abandoned in the throes of ecstasy. Clenching around Idris's cocks, you savor the heady feeling of being filled to the brim. When you look down, the sight of your stomach swelling from being filled to the brim doesn’t surprise you one bit. But what Idris does next does.

The dragon presses a hand down on your stomach, and your eyes cross from the pure pleasure you feel. "So so full—oh!—of you. Ah! ah—"

"That filthy little mouth of yours," Idris growls, voice husky with desire, and you choke out on a wail as Idris withdraws completely before plunging back into you with a single, powerful thrust.

"Idris, Idris. Hhh— Ah, Idris—!"

"Ah, I do adore it when my name is the only thing on your lips," Idris exhales sharply, each word punctuated by the relentless rhythm of his hips.

Tears well at the corners of your eyes, your mouth forming a silent plea with each exhale. You feel more exposed and vulnerable than ever before, reduced to a broken, shattered, needy mess of a man. The image of yourself in his mind—panting and debauched—sends a surge of arousal straight to your cock.

"You are so utterly exquisite," Idris murmurs, moving to sharply bite down on your neck once again.

"Idris," you moan in warning, the need to cum again is unbearable, and you shudder in your need, a whine trapped in your chest.

"What is it, my love?" Idris groans mid-sentence, and glances at you through the strands of white hair falling over his forehead. There's hunger burning inside the dragon's eyes, an adrenaline-fueled smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm going to— Again. I—"

But before you can finish, Idris spreads your legs wider, teasingly denying your release. "Not yet," Idris answers before slamming back inside, hitting an angle that sends you reeling, legs trembling all over.

A hoarse gasp escapes your throat as you writhe beneath Idris's every touch, your breath shallow, your mouth dry. You can't hold on much longer, not when Idris is pushing you relentlessly toward the edge just to wring you dry in the end. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably with each thrust, and you're sure you can hear yourself sobbing, voice raw and fractured. Tears blur your vision, and you struggle to even draw oxygen into your lungs.

"Don't pass out on me, [Name]," Idris's voice cuts through the haze.

"I.. I..." Your voice is punched out by another particular sharp thrust, and then you're gone, lost in a whirlwind of sensation. "Idris. I have to— Please, please–ah!—please I can't—" you sob to him, pleading, frantic.

Idris's smile widens as he shifts forward and slowly captures your lips in a soft kiss. "Good boy. Do as you please." Then plunges himself back in, muffling your scream with his mouth as he sets back to a punishing, relentless rhythm.

You mewl as you come undone once again to another climax, body wracked with oversensitivity as Idris continues, showing no mercy. Drool pools in your mouth, dripping from your open lips down to your chin. With a gasping breath, you realize your hands are no longer bound, and you wrap them around Idris's neck like it was always meant to be there.

Idris nails your prostate with a final, forceful thrust, eliciting a spurt of warmth that floods inside you completely, causing you to shake apart once more, toes curling as you keen loudly into his ear.

You've become a disheveled mess of gasping breaths and fractured moans, unable to do anything but whine as Idris shifts you into a new position. Now seated on Idris's lap, your body still impaled on Idris's cocks, you feel the dragon gently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I should inform your dear council you'll be terribly indisposed tomorrow. I highly doubt you'd be able to walk after all this."

Tomorrow...? Right, there's more work to be done tomorrow, you can't do that, you can't neglect your duties as ruler. With your mind still reeling, albeit a bit blank, you shake your head in response.

"No?" Idris slams up inside you and you hiccup through the mind-shattering thrusts, barely able to focus and listen as Idris continues, "Well then, I suppose I'll have to exert myself a little more to make that a reality."

In response, you clench around him with a soft moan, blissful through your misty, tear-filled eyes.

OFFERING | YANDERE IMAGINES

prompt: you are sacrificed by your village to be the god’s offering. You expect to die—but instead, the whole situation spirals into a maddening obsession.

character(s): yandere!god, you

warnings(s): possessive, manipulative behavior, unhealthy relationship dynamic

note(s): male reader, second person, present tense, not beta read

You do not expect anything but death.

You hear the hostility and animosity boiling in their throats, scorching your skin with the heat of a thousand suns. You feel the hands that pull at you roughly, dressing you up in garments you’ve never worn before— silks that are red, hot and heavy, a veil that hides your features. They do not bother to hide the wounds that are festering on your skin—it is a common fact that the God, Elias, kills the offerings, and his heart is as cold as ice. He will not bother about you. He will not care about you. You know that being offered is akin to courting death.

You are despised by the village. You are abandoned by your parents, and you have no one to call a family or friend. The scars you bear are not pretty, either, and no woman will take you as a husband, and no man will take you in as his wife. 

You have lived a lifetime of suffering, and now you only wait for it to end.

So you choose to close your eyes, having a fitful sleep in the rocky carriage. You are convinced that this night will be your last.

—

You do not see the God named Elias, at first. 

But you hear his voice in whispers, in echoes. 

“So you must be the new offering,” his voice is soft, elegant, graceful—your first thought is that he cannot be the fearsome God people speak of—“do you, [Name], know of the fate that awaits you?”

You are a mortal. You feel fear, no matter how much you’ve prepared yourself. You will fear death, after all, and you will wonder if your death will feel quiet and painless, or if it will be excruciating. You’ve heard horror stories of the latter.

“You…” your voice stays firm to your surprise, “will kill me.”

You still cannot see him. He is described to be beautiful in some stories, ugly in others. You truly don’t know. But his voice is lilting, quiet, and music-like. Is it toned down on purpose for you to let your guard down? Will he rip your heart out the minute you doze off? Will he torture you before he kills you? There are a million questions you don’t dare to ask him.

“Truthfully,” the voice holds amusement. “You are the first to truly make it to me.”

You stiffen. “I’m sorry?”

“The others have died, yes,” the God says, “but I did not kill them. They committed suicide. Is it not pathetic to have people be so fearful of you that they will choose to end their lives before they meet you?”

He’s lying. He’s definitely…lying. You remember the horror stories you’ve heard: first, the village chief’s daughter, Sarah, who had her throat ripped out viciously because she dared to be rude. Second, the village chief’s niece, Amelia, who had her body found beneath a cliff, supposedly punished for her grave misdeeds for stealing, thirdly, the male, Rufus, who had been the first male offering towards Elias, who had his remains returned to him for supposedly no reason.

“And spreading rumors about the deity cruelty, really,” Elias’s voice flows on like a steady stream, mirthful, “ridiculous, is it not?”

“Are you…” you find your voice at last, “saying you didn’t kill them?”

“No, of course not,” Elias says, “you are the first one who has made it to me.”

“That is not one I’ve heard.”

“Rumors can be exaggerated.”

You think back to the earlier offerings: of Sarah, who kicked at you, spat at you, and slapped you until your cheek welled. Of Amelia, who framed you for stealing and got you whipped in front of the village folk. Of Rufus, who got a group of boys to strip you of your clothes before they dumped you shivering into a river. They met a rather fitting death.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “if you want to kill me…”

You squeeze your eyes. Your heart is thumping against your chest wildly: you feel fear course through your veins, fear thrumming at the surface of your mind. Do not be deceived, you tell yourself. Do not be deceived by this murderous God.

The blow never comes.

Your heart still beats.

You are still alive.

You can’t see him, but you can feel a hand tip your chin up.

“Now,” Elias says, his tone strangely fond, “why would I ever kill you? I’ve been looking forward to your arrival for a long time after all.”

—

You see him for the first time, drenched in moonlight.

The first thing you think is: he’s beautiful. He is. He truly is. His hair is silvery blue under moonlight—it’s long and falls to his waist. His features are delicate, yet masculine enough for him to seem more handsome than beautiful. Everything about him seems—perfect—the slant of his nose, the glittering of his magnificent teal eyes, and the fullness of his lips. He seems so vividly familiar to you.

For the past few days, he’s been speaking to you merely as a voice; as a shadowy whisper floating to your ears. 

And everyday you marvel at the fact you’re alive. You’re still alive.

He treats you gently. He treats you like the very thing you were supposed to be: a bride. He brings you gifts, he feeds you well, he dresses you generously in luxurious silks and attire. You didn’t see his face then, but you could feel the sensation of his gentle touch against your skin, as he brushed off a petal, or a loose strand of hair.

You want to ask him why. Why he chooses to hide his appearances, why he treats you so well. You fear the answer. You fear that this was how he treated the earlier offerings before he slaughtered them. You fear many things, and his tenderness is one of them.

“I kept you waiting, didn’t I?” Elias says softly, before he reaches out to you. You flinch, and he frowns. “My mana has yet to be restored. I apologize. What’s wrong, [Name]?”

You think back to his words a while back: why would I kill you? I’ve waited a very long time for you. Does this apply to the general idea of a companion, or is he referring to you in particular?

“Before all this…” you murmur. “Did you know me? Did I know you?”

Your memories are patchy as a kid. You cannot remember the face of your mother, and neither can you remember the face of your mother. They are all erased in your mind.

Elias smiles. He always smiles at you—you can’t tell if it’s genuine or deceitful. You tell yourself continuously that it’s fake—it’s easier to live with him that way. Every breath you take, you are amazed at the fact that blood still flows within your body. The place you live is empty, except for strange servants, except for Elias. It’s a lonely place, completely devoid of anyone. It makes you realize that divinity is lonelier than any human existence.

“I’ve waited a long time for you,” is all Elias tells you. His hand reaches out to you and touches your cheek gently, pressing on a scar almost sorrowfully. “You must have gone through a lot of pain in the village. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner.”

“You know me.” You swallow, “but I don’t know who you are.”

Elias doesn’t say anything. He kisses your forehead gently, brings you to the bed, and tells you to sleep well. His skin is cold against your own and he pulls the sheets over your body, bading you goodbye.

“Sleep well, [Name],” Elias murmurs. “I will tell you another day.”

—

That night, you dream for the first time in years. And this dreams continue to persist for the next few days,

You dream of a flower field. You see your fingers picking our petals from the flowers. The flowers are odd, unlike any other thing you’ve seen before. It has silvery blue petals, much like the color of Elias’s hair. You see a silhouette from a distance, and you feel yourself calling out a name—

“—Elias,” you whisper, as you fist the blanket. You had awoken from the dream in panic, and now you found yourself panting, shivering. What was that? You think desperately, just what was that? A cold feeling washes over you, and you stumble to your feet. You find yourself walking to the grass outside, your bare feet treading on grass. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel the breeze caress your cheeks.

You freeze.

Your hand trembles as it reaches out to touch the flower in front of you. It’s the exact flower you found in your dream.

“I don’t…” you give a long sigh, closing your eyes. A headache starts to thrum in your head. “I don't know what’s going on anymore.”

Ever since you came here, you’ve seen flashes of memories pop in your head—of laughter, of the warmth of shared hands, of someone. The boy cannot be seen, and he’s unnamed. You feel younger, more childish, more happy in your dreams. And each time the male turns to face you, the dream ends. 

You feel your heart getting weighed down every time you wake up. Turn around, you plead, turn around! Let me see you!

You feel a blanket drape over your shoulders, and you soften. “Elias.”

“[Name]. What are you doing so late at night?”

“I’ve had…” you say absentmindedly, “the same recurring dream.”

“A nightmare?” Elias asks, his voice dressed in concern. A hand immediately reaches out to touch your forehead, measuring your temperature. “Do you feel unwell? Humans are such fragile creatures.”

“You speak as if you’ve lost a human before.” You say, amused, before you shake your head. “No. Not nightmares. Strangely enough, I’ve dreamt of this flower field multiple times. With someone…with myself, reaching out to these very flowers, plucking off the petals…” you turn to face him. “I don’t know anything, Elias. I only know your name. You don’t tell me why you care for me so. You don’t tell me the truth about the earlier offerings. You don’t…”

You don’t tell me anything.

It’s impossible for you not to fall in love with him. Such gentleness—such love—can only cause your feelings to spiral out of control. It can only cause you pain and grief. Elias has ulterior motives, you are convinced, and you use use those motives to destroy your feelings before they can destroy you. So you continue.

“But perhaps it’s for the better, isn’t it? To place a distance. After all, a mortal can never be a God. And a God can never be a human.” You tilt your head. “You are shrouded with mysteries. You will never explain anything to me. You will treat me with fondness—love, almost—and you will expect me not to doubt you. But of course I doubt you. How can I not, when all my life, I’ve been taught that love is a privilege, and not a right?”

“No, [Name],” Elias says in a strangled voice.

That’s foolish, you think, gods should never have such an expression on their face.

Elias’s heart throbs. He’s heard these very words before from you. He has. You don’t know it—you don’t know that he’s been waiting for your reincarnation for ages now—you don’t know that he does know you, from eons, centuries ago.

.

.

“But you’re human, aren’t you?” You smiled as you faced him, joy alighting on your features. “Why must you rob yourself of such emotions?”

Human..

Your words were like music to his ears. They filled him with immeasurable joy.

Human.

How long had it been since someone said that to him? His mother had told him before, perhaps, but that had been…no, had anyone even told him that before?

A person as bright as the sun, as beautiful as the flowers. Those were his thoughts as he looked at you— a picturesque sight you made indeed, hair messy and a playful smile on your face, limbs dipped in the water. You seemed more like a God than himself, with the way the moon seemed to favor you; coating your whole body in some resplendent light.

Your scent had him intoxicated. Your voice. Your words.

Elias had loved you desperately. He had, before you had been ripped away from him from a common cold that killed you.

Elias grieved.

Humans are such fragile creatures.

.

.

“I did,” Elias turns away, shadows casting down on his face. “I did know you.”

You don't say anything for a few seconds, before you open your mouth. “What?”

“There’s a reason I asked for offerings,” Elias murmurs. “I thought it would be you. I wanted you to come back to me. It wouldn’t matter to me what form you would be in, what you looked like—I just wanted you with me.”

“You must be the male in the dream, then,” you realize, “but—”

“I’ve waited so long for you since you died.” Elias swallows. His gaze is almost murky, almost dangerous… “so, so long. Centuries have passed since the last time I saw you alive. You pledged your eternal devotion to me then. But you…” Elias’s hands are cold as they seek warmth within yours. “You took so long to appear to me again.”

“Then the offerings. They didn’t commit suicide, did they?” You ask him. You know the answer. And you fear that you’ll forgive him for his cruelty. After all, is this not the male—not the God—who has treated you with so much kindness? So much love? Is this not the God whom you dream of, the one who had been your lover before? Is this not the God whom you have so utterly and pathetically fallen for? You have given your heart to a God, and now his divinity will kill both your souls. 

“They hurt you,” Elias closes your eyes. His hands are pulling you to him now, your head buried into the crook of his neck. “I…lied, because I simply…” He kisses your neck softly, his tone low. “…I could not deal with the idea, [Name], of those dirty vermin hurting you. And I waited and waited and waited for that useless village chief to send you; for me to reunite with you, but…it took four tries. Four tries, [Name].”

Your memories are rushing back to you. You remember Elias’s words from your past life: I’m sorry, [Name]. Loving a God is never easy. When I kiss you, you will taste the loneliness rotting my tongue. When I hold your hand, you will feel the ichor and ice in my veins, freezing you, and when I gaze at you, you will see my faults and my coldness. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to remember you.” You shake your head. “I didn’t..understand. I didn’t understand anything at all. I felt confused; lost: in a constant state of almost anger—because I wanted a reason greater than my love for you to explain why you were so tender to me.”

“I do,” Elias almost melts against your skin, like he’s seeking refuge within you; like he’s been starved and deprived and he’s been finally quenched of his thirst—“I love you, [Name]. I…”

His love for you is terrifying. He’s seen ungodly parts come out within him when others hurt you, when others dare to lay a hand on him. It has taken three bodies to be sent back to that stupid village for you to come to him. Divinity is lonely, and Elias hated the days without you. You have to be with him. You have to be with him, no matter what. He will not allow any other thing: you will stay by his side, he will annihilate everyone who dares to even touch you. You’ve given him a reason to live, and now he must make sure to protect you. Elias has never cared about mortals until now: but now he laments their weaknesses, he loathes their fragile selves. 

Everything that Elias has ever loved has disappeared. His mother perished. The pets he raised as a kid died. And now you…Elias fears that he’ll have to wait another few centuries for you should you die again.

He is willing to wait, of course, but sometimes, it’s impossible—it’s impossible.

Elias never had a chance to kiss you. Despite being your lover in your previous life, he’s never kissed you before. And perhaps that is the answer of divinity: his divinity will flow from his lips to yours. Perhaps it’ll be painful, but you love him too, don’t you? Won’t you stay with him?

It does not matter. Nothing will matter. Perhaps fragility is best. It’ll ensure that you’ll never run away from him, after all. You say you love him, currently—but how can he be so sure of that? Humans lie too, and you are still human.

Elias will make sure that you are beside him, no matter what, even if it means ripping your humanity away from you.

comments are always appreciated! I apologise if the pacing felt strange and the writing was off :’) low key forgot how to do oneshots. pls reblog and like, it’ll mean so much to me!

you absolute omega im the only ALPHA here

says the aggressive omega ok.

( 𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 ) ✦ ⎯⎯ 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐃𝐘𝐑𝐀, the moon  ˚ · .┊ 𝇄𝇃 ✧.

he's been waiting for the wedding for a long, long time. ever since the day you've scarred one another, blood marking blood — a testament to the bond that sealed your fates together.

─── The MOON represents the realm of the subconcious, symbolizing the mysteries that lie beneath the conscious thought. it can warn of hidden agendas, often signaling that appearances may be deceiving.

✦ ″ beneath the canopy of stars, his cold, unyielding hands hold you tightly in place, his long silver hair billowing in the night wind, sending cold chills down your spine. in those silver eyes of his, there is something unspoken — something undeniably cruel and flushed with madness.

✦ ″ the second prince is someone to be avoided at all costs. to catch his gaze would be a mistake, and to fall into his cunning hands would be your ruin. (because his love is an ocean, and he holds enough of it to drown you both)

[ directory . ]

01. — you are promised to me, remember that.

02. — a night like no other, just for us, don’t you agree?

do not claim, repost, or use this character without permission. character art from onmyoji

jusy dropping in to say that i love your layout sm 😭 i want to eat it /pos

AAAAAA TYSM!!! I love love love ur neuvilette layout sm as well gaahhhhh ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) that sweet sweet dragon <3

Nh uh.. FUCK that dragon !!!!

i will assume that this is the anon that wanted to top idris

Voila it's me again, and I will hold you to your promise until the end of time so I will come for you if you drop out the last second👺

so i see (is that a threat HMM?!)👺👺👺 but don't worry, i'll write it cause i need to see it happen ... and to see if it fits too 👉👈

I hope Lucien dominates me 🥵🥵🥵

This crazy prince is this what i need for

glad you enjoyed his craziness 😉😉😉