#a dragon's drabbles

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Perhaps they ought not to have eaten the dragon. There had been people objecting to it at the time. Surely such meat was poisonous. Perhaps it was even an affront, an insult to some intangible order of nature they ought to honour.

But the city was starving, the siege had gone on too long, and the king's troops were still a week's march away. The scorched earth would be fertile again in time, but right now it was barren. Right now there were mouths to feed. So they changed their crossbows for butcher knives and got to work.

None of the royal commanders asked any questions that could not be answered. After all, their aid had come shamefully late. The dragon's horned skull made a noble gift, a fitting tribute from a triumphant city to its humbled king. Who would have thought to question them?

And none of the townsfolk spoke up, when the first golden-eyed babes were born. Children who grew up barefoot and fearless, clambering over the city's patched and rebuilt roofs like they had no notion of falling, with a strange glitter to their skin when the sunlight hit it just so. No one breathed a word about dragons.

Because soon enough there were deft, young hands taking loaves straight out of the oven, heedlessly lifting iron from the forge, plunging into boiling laundry water. And some of them more wondrous still, wild, warm-skinned youths, with inexplicable knowledge and peculiar remedies.

A blessing, their families said proudly. A blessing after so much hardship. Which it was, in its way. This city would never fear dragon fire again.

[madamechrissy]

Dragon Sylus loves to breed you

Dragon Sylus x F! reader

nsfw- smut drabble hehe, he's got two dicks bc YES, wrote this for @honeybunnnnie hehe <3

Sylus loves to wrap his black scaled tail around your body, to drag you even closer to him, to sink even deeper in your slutty little cunt. He has beads of sweat just dripping down his strong, muscled chest right now as he fills you so full. A huge hand on your tummy, sharp nails pressing into your skin as he imagines filling you with so many dragon babies, the cum from both his cocks alternating as they take turns pumping inside you.

You were terrified when you first stumbled upon this cave, truly, running far away from an arranged wedding had led you right to this dragons lair. And this dragon, of course he LOVES pretty things, and loves to hoard them. Did you really not think he'd add you to his collection?

"Ah, a sweet little Princess, has stepped into my lair, hmm?" he had practically purred those words when you stumbled in that dark cave lit only by brilliant red flames, he had been laying right on towers of gold coins when his red eyes flashed and he saw you.

At first you'd been frightened, as he inspected you with those long fingers, taking your pretty dress off and leaving on your jeweled tiara, but soon he'd begun to pleasure you, and pleasure you he did. He drank from your cunt like it was the finest source of crystal clear water, he slid you down on one of his cocks, then the other, stretching you out so deliciously.

It has been days since you left the cave, and he's had you in positions you hadn't even dreamed of - an innocent girl, but now you're his and only his.

Sylus has you bent in a full mating press, back laying on the soft, tattered remnants of your pretty dress, he loves to fuck you on it, knowing you were supposed to marry some fancy lord somewhere, but you're never going to leave him. He's splitting you apart on one of his thick, veiny cocks, your thighs spread around his narrow hips, as you gasp out.

"Can you take them all, all my babies, hmm Princess?" he whispers, you're struggling to focus, eyes rolling back in your skull, his other cock is leaking that precum down, as he slips up and shoves his other cock inside you, now one of them slipping up and down your tummy, dragging on your clit as he strokes in and out. "Look at me."

"Hmm... you're... insane..." you gasp when he shifts your positions, and soon you're riding the huge dragon, one of his cocks stretching you past your limits, your walls quivering as you try to take it. Feeling the tip leaking, ready to pump more inside you again, because he just loves when his treasure gets an attitude.

You're already his mate, he knew it just by your scent when you entered that cave- but maybe you're just figuring it out.

"I said, look at me," he gently cradles your head with one of his huge claws, fingers wrapping it entirely, while you meet his ruby eyes, your hands gripping the cool, hard scales all over his strong body.

What Sylus doesn't realize is you want them. You want to have his babies inside you, but you're so nervous to say so still - all your experience is from this dragon. Sylus feels the heat on your cheeks as he drags you down the soaking wet length, moaning as he feels you dripping from one cock to the other, his mouth leaving marks all over your pretty breasts as he marks them as his own.

"Say it," he taunts softly, eyes soft for a moment, you inhale and roll your hips, watching his glossy lips part in a gasp as you do.

"I want them in me," he blinks in surprise for a moment, when you roll them again, using the hand in front of you to jerk on his other cock tentatively, hearing his ragged moan from his throat. "I want you to keep me."

He chuckles then, even as he's jerking, so sensitive, you feel him thickening and pulsing in your cunt and your hand, exhaling as he wraps that tail around your body, teasing one of your nipples. "Did you think I'd ever let you leave? My most treasured possession."

Sylus the dragon is rather sweet at times, but when it's about his seed he needs to make sure you take it, so he has to shove it deep in your cunt when she tries to push it out, his long fingers alone hitting your cervix again. He kisses you sweetly as he does so, but he must make sure you don't waste a drop.

"Keep it in, you can do it can't you?" His husky words are drowned out by your cries and your squelching wetness in the cave, but no one can hear you and if they did, it's not like Sylus would let you go.

[justarandomweeb]

Yandere Dragonborn Roommate

MDNI Warning: Scent kink mentioned, M*sturbation mentioned, I guess the yandere being a Tsundere??? idk how that works man

Yandere Dragonborn Roommate who sneers at you the first you two were introduced to one another, rent was getting unreasonably high and sometimes a bit of sacrifices must be made. He lay the ground rules, do not walk into his room without permission, put your shoes outside, if you were to come home late always call and god forbid touch his jewelry box.

Yandere Dragonborn Roommate always texts when you'll be home or if you ate dinner already, and throws a small tantrum if you don't reply within the next 5 minutes. Bombards your phone with constant calls and messages till you reply and gets mad for not picking it up sooner.

Yandere Dragonborn Roommate will always know if you have a date, its not like he stalked your phone while you shower or anything! he makes it his mission to personally doll you up. He dictates what you're wearing and the make up that will make your eyes pop more. Then making you wear his prized jewelry, he personally pick with care and adorn your skin with the shining jewel and crystals. Maybe your roommate isn't bad after all, sure he's oddly quiet during the whole process, but a great wingman nonetheless.

Yandere Dragonborn Roommate pushes you out of the apartment for you to meet your date outside. He holds your forearm and makes you repeat the rules, then gives you a nod of farewell.

Yandere Dragonborn Roommate then rushes to your room, and goes to your unwashed laundry to satisfy his swollen boners, having to jack off two cocks is exhausting. He wishes those pocket pussies were your warmth instead of the sticky and oddly cold silicone, and your underwear is your crotch in his face instead.

He quickly takes a cold shower to cool off and hide the evidence, keeping a souvenir. He always knows that your dates are going to fail and you'll burst into the apartment crying. What? do you think those jewelry is just for show? Those hybrids can smell the dragon’s power within them, making them cower in fear. Without you realizing you are already marked by the dragon.

_____

Author's Note: Damn, this is a longer drabble than I expected.

[dragon-ascent]

Imagine teasing Zhongli in his tiny dragon form...and it backfires.

"My daaaarling!" You smooch the bajeezums out of your husband, who is currently small, fluffy, and chonky for your cuddling convenience. "My precious sweetie pie!"

Tiny dragon Zhongli purrs in delight and licks your cheek, eyes blissfully closed as he enjoys the attention he's receiving. His little paws cling to your top as his chunky tail wags like crazy. On leisurely days like these, he adores lounging around like this with you. "Ah, there's not a single being softer, warmer, or cuter than you," you tell Zhongli, booping his little nose, and he gives you a mrrrrp! of agreement, wiggling.

Eventually, through all the cuddles and compliments you give him, a mischievous grin spreads across your face. You bring him closer to your face.

"Since you're smaller than me...shall I eat you?"

You laugh in delight as your fluffy little husband wriggles in dismay, but you're not letting go - you playfully chomp the air around him while he lets out soft whines, pawing and grrring in futility at you.

You can't help it; he's so much fun to tease! "So cute! I'm gonna eat you! Raaaah!"

He then decides he's had enough and morphs back into the human-form Zhongli you are most accustomed to.

"Oh! Hello my love!" You make to cuddle your now-grown man of a husband, but Zhongli adjusts his position over you so that he's practically straddling you now, his hands splayed on either side of your head. "Zh-Zhongli..?"

"Hm." He brings his thumb to caress your cheek. "I am that amusing when small, is it?"

"Well..." You squirm in embarrassment, and gasp when Zhongli nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, reveling in your scent. He then begins to make use of his teeth and tongue, making you shiver and whimper after his hot breath lingers.

"So cute." He softly bites your shoulder, a preamble for what was to come. His golden eyes gleam bright as the ghost of a teasing smirk plays on his lips.

"Since you're smaller than me...shall I eat you?"

[beloveds-embrace]

(thinking of dragon john price wanting your chubby self as an addition to his hoard 😩)

The first time John Price walks into your café, it’s because he needs something strong to shake the weariness from his old bones. The bell above the door chimes, and the warmth of roasted beans and sugar wraps around him like a comfort he didn’t know he needed.

And then he sees you.

You’re behind the counter, moving with easy confidence, soft hands making quick work of a steaming pitcher of milk. There’s a warmth in your smile when you greet him, eyes bright, cheeks plush and inviting. Something in his chest tightens- something ancient, something hungry.

He doesn’t speak at first, just rumbles out his order in that low, gravelly timbre of his, but he watches you. The way your hands move, steady and capable. The way your curves shift as you reach for a cup, the fabric of your uniform stretching over the swell of your stomach, your hips. You’re soft. Lush. And suddenly, John forgets what it was he came in for beyond you.

The coffee you place in front of him is perfect. He barely tastes it.

After that, he starts coming in more often.

At first, it’s under the excuse of needing a pick-me-up before work, but then it becomes something else entirely. A routine. A habit. A hoarding. He brings trinkets sometimes- small things, barely noticeable at first. A shiny coin from some distant country, left on the counter as a tip. A sleek, carved wooden bracelet he insists on you wearing. A packet of specialty tea, even though this is a coffee shop, because he thought you might like it. And you do, the smile you give him always so pretty, so soft, like most humans are, except none of them is you.

It’s instinct, this need to gift, to gather, to keep.

And when other men linger too long at the counter, when they smile at you just a little too wide, John bristles. His shoulders square, big wings soreading ever so slightly, the scales along his tail sharpening. He makes himself big, more than he already is, and lets his presence fill the space until they think better of their flirting and take their coffee to go.

He doesn’t like them looking at what’s his.

Not yet, not officially- but he’s working on that.

Because you don’t know it yet, his sweet barista, but John has already made up his mind. You belong with him, with them. In his hoard, where he can keep you warm and safe, where he and his men can adore you properly.

You just haven’t figured it out yet.

(Reblogs for more)

[riddlesbunny]

the albatross

summary: Originally an unlikely match, you give birth to Aegon’s first child and his entire world changes.

pairing: Aegon x Strong!Reader

word count: 767

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, brief mention of blood, guilt.

note: “Albatross” is used metaphorically as a psychological burden dealing with shame or guilt! (and shout out to Taylor Swift)

Aegon wanted to hate you. He wanted to hate your hair and your eyes. Your thick eyelashes, the freckles that dusted your cheeks, the way your nose scrunched when you laughed. Despite wanting to hate you in your entirety, he found himself physically incapable of doing so. As a young boy he refused to admit it, even going so far as to tease you for your features — but he thought you were beautiful. If anything, you could’ve resembled his mother more than a Targaryen.

It wasn’t your features that were wrong, but who you inherited them from; you and your brother’s served as living, breathing reminders of Rhaenyra’s infidelity.

Alicent Hightower had been sure to remind him and his siblings that you and your brothers were a product of their older sister's infidelity. An embarrassment to the family. An insult to the crown, to the realm. Abominations. Bastards.

Screams of pain shook the walls of the Red Keep.

“I can’t do this anymore, Aegon! Please make it stop, it hurts!” you rasped, clawing at the blood-soaked bedsheets. It had been almost 24 hours since your labors had begun. To everyone's surprise, Aegon had yet to leave your side.

“We’re almost there, my love. You’re doing a great job,” your husband encouraged as he placed a chaste kiss to your sweat-drenched forehead, which you only returned with a death glare.

“I cannot take it anymore! Just get it out! Cut it out if you have to!”

One of your handmaids tried to dab at your forehead with a cloth, but you gripped her hand forcefully.

Aegon gave her a sympathetic look as he got her out of your grasp, locking his fingers with yours.

“You know we can’t do that, my love. I will not risk losing you.”

You winced as your midwife slid a finger around the base of your opening. All day long you had been violated against your will. Childbirth was not only painful, but humiliating. For Aegon’s sake, you silently prayed the babe was a boy. You weren’t sure if you would be willing to go through this again.

“I can feel the head, your grace. Just a few more big pushes for me and the babe will be here.”

You groaned loudly, your teeth grinding together as another contraction wracked your frame. Pain radiated down your spine and into your groin. You felt like you were being ripped apart at the seams. Being eaten by Sunfyre seemed to be a more pleasant fate than this.

“You hear that? You’re almost done. You’re doing so good.”

You squeezed onto Aegon’s hand as hard as you could, pushing with all the strength in your body. The harder you pushed, the sooner it would be over. You needed it to be over. With a final push, your vision began to blur and your mind went blank.

Before you knew it, loud cries pulled you back to Earth, and coo’s from your handmaidens filled the room. You laid back with a sigh of relief.

Finally.

The handmaids quickly handed the babe to Aegon so you could get cleaned up.

“A girl,” she stated proudly, “and she looks just like you, my queen.”

“Like me?” You shot up.

“Lay back your grace, you need to relax,” she scolded you.

Throughout your pregnancy there was a fear in the back of your mind, that if the babe inherited your features that Aegon would be disappointed. Turns out, you couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Yes,” he chuckled, tears swelling in his eyes, “like you. She is absolutely beautiful.”

He placed the baby in your arms, smiling down at the two of you.

A wave of guilt had crashed over Aegon at the sight of his newborn daughter. As well as your initial reaction to her looks. Thinking about the torment you endured for those same features in a world full of violet eyes and snow-white hair. How could he have been so cruel to you for something so fickle?

He couldn’t help but think about Ser Harwin Strong. And the fact that he probably shared the same thoughts as him the first time he laid eyes on you as a babe. This baby was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and the thought of anyone making her believe anything else made his blood boil. He would simply not allow it. Anyone who even dare whisper a word regarding your daughters features would lose their tongue for it.

Although the responsibility of sitting the Iron Throne loomed heavy over Aegon’s head it wasn’t until this very moment that he had true reason to be motivated to rule: his new family

[brokenmenswhore]

release | jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

summary: jace is on the brink of snapping and lashing out toward his mother and her council for their lack of action against the greens, so you give him another outlet for his frustration

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), rough sex, jace is a lil rough & feral in this one, threats (reader consents but may appear as dubcon)

────── ☾ ──────

“And what of those who sent him?” Jacaerys snapped, questioning his mother as they buried yet another body.

He was angry. He couldn’t help but lose people. Everyone around him kept fleeing or dying, and he tried desperately to hold his tongue, but his patience was slipping. War was inevitable, and he was frustrated at his mother’s lack of action toward the opposing force. He wanted revenge, retaliation, and most of all, he wanted to be the one to give it.

As the eldest son, however, he tried not to cause a scene, knowing he played an important role in this war, and hoping that his silence and unwavering support of his mother’s decisions would breed the proper trust that was needed to allow him more involvement and access in the war.

He was evidently tense at council meetings. His tongue was becoming sharper with each sentence related to the war. He couldn’t help it. He pushed through the doors to your chambers, angry and frustrated from the events of the day.

He stopped short when he saw you turn in your chair to face him. Taking a deep breath, the tension in his body dropped. “I need a hug.”

You smiled, standing and approaching him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You remained a step lower than him in the entrance. He rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I just don’t understand why she won’t do anything,” he began, “I know she doesn’t want this war. I don’t want this war, but it’s happening. We have all lost so much, and it will not stop. Why won’t she do something?”

“Perhaps she believes it can still be avoided,” you responded.

“How much blood from my family must be split before she realizes it can’t?”

Your heart ached for him. You wanted to hold him in the hug forever, curing all his pain and never letting him out of the room.

“I’m sorry, Jacaerys.”

“It is not a fault of yours,” he replied, “it is just exhausting. I wish for a break from all of this, even if just momentary. I feel as if any moment, I may break, and I do not wish to take these frustrations out on my mother or her council. It would only cause the situation to worsen.”

You looked up at him, “then take it out on me.”

“What?”

“Take your frustrations out on me, Jace.”

“You do not deserve such treatment.”

You sighed, “but I am asking for it. Allow yourself to have an outlet. Why else am I here?”

Jacaerys was bewildered, “you are not here for me to take my anger out on. I would not do such a thing.”

“I wish for you to relax. I would not speak the offer if I did not mean it. Please, Jace.”

Jace leaned down to kiss you, initiating a sweet, intimate kiss before his frustrations took over and he deepened the kiss, gripping your thighs, causing you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He continued to kiss you as you clung to his shoulders, his steps towards the bed shaking you and causing you to nearly fall.

The Velaryon prince was usually quite nice to you, making sure to take things slow and constantly checking in on your comfort and pleasure. He would typically slowly drop your back onto the mattress, but tonight, he quite literally pushed you down, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you into the mattress.

You moaned at the eagerness of it all, Jace’s hands running up and down your side, gripping your waist and pushing your hips down, until your legs were no longer wrapped around his body. Never breaking the kiss, he lifted up your nightdress, his fingers finding their way under your small clothes, not giving you time to ease into it as he began roughly rubbing circles on your clit.

You squealed into the kiss. Jace moved to begin sucking bruises into your neck, his hair falling in front of his face, as he continued to rub you. You couldn’t help but moan, trying your hardest to remain as quiet as possible, since his little brother’s chambers were just a wall away.

“He’s not here,” Jace groaned.

You could barely speak. “What?”

“He’s not in his chambers. He’s out with Arrax. Stop holding back,” Jace demanded, “wanna hear what I’m doing to you.”

This controlling nature was a change, but you didn’t mind it at all. You stopped trying to quiet yourself, a moan of his name leaving your lips as he pushed a finger into you.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “you sound so pretty.”

“T-thank you,” you responded.

Jacaerys didn’t stop curling his finger inside of you, but giggled, “did you just thank me?”

“Mhm,” you moaned.

“You’re too cute,” he said, breaking his frustrated and controlling demeanor for a second, the compliment making your heart swell as he continued to fuck you with his fingers.

He felt you start to squeeze, and he immediately pulled his hand away from you. You sighed in disappointment.

He lifted you from under your arms, shifting you so you were sitting up, as he began to undo his breeches.

“I just wish I could go to King’s Landing,” he started, pushing his small clothes down and allowing his cock to be free, “I’d kill every last one of them.”

He gripped your hair, pushing your face down until it was level with his cock. “Open.”

You did as he told you, opening your mouth as he pushed his cock into your mouth, immediately hitting the back of your throat. He was big, too big to fit completely in your mouth, but you were getting better and better at breathing through your nose to avoid gagging around his cock.

“Not today,” he sighed, “stop holding back or I’ll fuck it out of your throat.”

You listened to him, forgetting everything you know about avoiding gagging, and allowing him to direct your head up and down, his cock hitting the back of your throat with every single thrust. You gagged and choked around him, but he didn’t let up.

“They think they’re so big and bad,” he said, breathy from the pleasure of your mouth around him, “if only they were around me. I could take all of them. I could end their whole fucking line.”

He began to thrust his hips at a vicious pace. You had no choice but to take it, trying your best to continue sucking and swirling your tongue around the head of his cock as he fucked your mouth mercilessly.

“I’d end their whole. fucking. line,” he said again, speaking through each thrust and throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, get up, I’m not done with you yet,” he commanded, pulling you off of him to stop himself from coming before he wanted to.

You didn’t dare adjust your position without his say so. You sat there waiting for him to put you where he wanted you. He flipped your body over, pressing your face into the pillow as he pulled your hips up to meet his. He took both of your wrists in one hand, locking them behind your back as his other hand guided his cock into your entrance and then moved to your waist as he started rocking into you, pushing you further and further into the mattress.

Your body folded and became weak, as much of you falling into the bed as was possible, the only thing keeping your hips upward was the rough grip Jacaerys had on them. You whined and moaned, your entire body rocking forward with each snap of his hips.

“Seven hells,” he breathed out, his pace never relenting, “are you still okay?”

“Mhm,” you moaned out, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Shit, I hate not being able to hear you,” he said, pulling out of you and flipping your body so you were flat on the mattress, facing him. “That’s better,” he smiled, immediately fucking back into you with no warning.

You cried out, grabbing his face and kissing him through the intensity. He grunted into the kiss, having never fucked you, or anyone for that matter, this hard before. All of his pent up rage and frustration was being taken out on your cunt.

Your back arched off the mattress, Jace taking the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, holding you even closer to him.

He spoke with every thrust, “I. Want. Revenge.”

“I k-know,” you moaned out.

“I. Want. Fucking. Revenge.”

It was overwhelming, and the intensity with which he was fucking you started to make your head cloudy. “J- Jace, it’s too m-“

Jacaerys cut you off by kissing you, doing everything he can to stop your words. “You can take it, baby.”

“I c-“ the pressure was so intense. You could feel your walls start to squeeze around his cock, and his pace was relentless.

“You can,” he said, looking directly into your eyes, “and you will.”

You nodded and let him continue splitting you open on his cock, dropping your waist down to the mattress again as he fucked into you, hands rough on your waist as they pushed you down.

Your eyes filled with tears. Jacaerys had never seen you like this, crying from the intensity, sweat sticking your hair to your forehead as you writhed under him. He didn’t know he was capable of making you feel like this, and he didn’t know you would look so fucking pretty as a result.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled, “I’m close.”

You couldn’t even respond, you just continued to whine and moan under him, watching his face contort as he released inside of you. The final few thrusts of his hips were cruel, his large length hitting that spongy spot inside of you that made you see stars. Through his high, he could feel you close, and he forced himself to continue pushing in and out of you until you met your climax.

Your legs shook as a wave of pleasure washed over you, your entire body eventually melting into the bed with weakness. Jace waited a moment before pulling out of you, kissing you as he did so.

You tried hard to catch your breath, but it took you longer than you anticipated. Jace, ever so attentive, looked down at you and asked, “you okay?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I should start making you mad.”

[abyssyby]

Touch, touch, touch

—every time you and sylus touch is out of necessity, until it isn’t just.

ʕ ꈍᴥꈍʔ: baby’s first drabble! hello! soft, yearning, aching, hand-flexing sylus has been eating away at my brain like a maggot (affectionate). here’s the first of hopefully more of whatever this is ♡ i havent written in a hot MINUTE, so feedback is super appreciated. i hope you enjoy! ❀ -urs

sylus x reader | fluff, longing, dressing wounds, dates, and touches

The hunter’s attempts at sneaking up on him amuse him and make his chest ache at the same time. It was an all-too-familiar sight— her face and her eyes watching him like a hawk’s, her motions like a wild cat’s. A knife in hand isn’t favorable, sure, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’s barely looking when he catches your wrist with his sturdy fingers, head gracefully turning to look at you with no trace of urgency. 

“Kitten.” glowing rubies scrutinize your failed attempt at causing harm. Or a good startle. He couldn’t read if that was murder or mischief in your eyes. Either way, he liked it. “Nice try.” 

𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Always so lost when it comes to the base, Mephisto is your only friend. The halls were made to be a labyrinth to anyone who dared trespass. Only Sylus and the twins truly know the way. Sylus spent hours programming the bird to know the ins and outs of the base, so he is your beacon. But he flies quick, and after shaking him like a tambourine that one time, he doesn’t really care if he loses you. 

“Shit.” you mutter, turning in a circle. A comical fork in the hall before you. You just wanted to find the library Sylus has been so proud of. You wonder how you’ll ever get there. You wonder how you’ll ever get out… 

Warmth on your shoulder and a sturdy grip on your arm maneuver you towards the rightmost hallway. Sylus towers over you, unimpressed. “He went that way.” 

Cheeks growing warm, you wanted to punch him— for sneaking up on you in a most idiotic state. But you thank him instead, shaking him off and stalking after the stupid bird. Maybe you’ll give him another shake for good measure. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

Amongst all your injuries, the broken nail on your thumb irks you the most. At least the lock is broken, and you’re safe and warm inside the safe house. The uncharacteristically charismatic safe house with leather couches, plush rugs, and a fancy fireplace. It smelled of white ginger incense and cinnamon. If you weren’t so dizzy and cold from the blood loss, you’d be living it up in this gold brick bungalow. 

Slumping against the door, respectfully getting only the wood floors wet and not the carpet, you assess the situation: bruises and scrapes (no big deal), gunshot to your shoulder, bullet still lodged and bleeding slowly (not so bad), and possible concussion (maybe a little concerning), broken thumbnail (big issue). 

You know exactly what you need to do. Where the first-aid kit may be, how to dig the bullet out, and what to bite on when you do it. Simple, easy, quick— as you were trained to do. A few winces and groans, and you’ll be fine. You lose a slow and steady breath. You’ll be fine…

 A few minutes to rest wouldn’t be so bad. Just a few breaths, a moment to rest your eyes, to calm your heartbeat and slow the bleeding. Just a minute. Just a minute. 

The click of the broken lock disengaging wakes you, sends you into a panic. How long have you been out? Instinct makes you reach, point, and cock your gun to the door— where it meets a dragon’s rock-molten glare. He scowls at you, incredulous— maybe at the blood on the polished mahogany floor, seeping between its crevices. Or at the shattered, high-end biotech door lock. Or the fact that you broke in. You have no energy to ask.

“You welcome this house’s owner by pointing a gun to his head?” he asks, but his voice carries no venom, nor does it any humor. He’s kneeling the next time you blink, hands hovering over your left shoulder. There’s something in the scrunch of his brows, the crease beneath his eyes, the short breaths he tries to hide— as if he’d been running, panicking. 

“How…?”

“A safe with a broken lock tends to make itself known, sweetie.” he murmurs, too focused on all the blood. Too much to be coming from you. “Although the treasure usually doesn’t walk right in.” 

He applies pressure. You groan. “What?” 

“Can you stand?” he asks. You try, but at the first sign of strain on your face, he stops you and moves you himself. 

He lays you by the fireplace, leaves the room to retrieve a first aid kit, and then works carefully in the dim light. He doesn’t speak a word, and you wonder if it’s because he’s mad. It is pretty shameless of you to break into his property. And you suppose pointing a gun to his head is even worse. 

He shouldn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t be dirtying his hands with your mistakes, dealing with the consequences of your poor and ill-tempered decisions. Shouldn’t have to be dealing with a bloody floor and a broken lock— and it’s all your fault. Guilt, cold and sickening, bubbles up in the pit of your stomach.

But his hands are gentle and soothing. His presence, the sound of his breathing is lulling you into calm-surfaced waters with a current that runs rapidly, dangerously beneath. You hate that you want to drown. 

“Sylus…” you start as he wipes his hands on his thighs, finished with stitching up your wound. 

He holds out a pill. “Take this.” 

You blink at him. 

“Painkiller.” he nudges your hand open, and you wince as he hits your thumb. The broken nail making its presence known once more. He freezes, wondering if he’d done that. If he’d missed a broken bone. He didn’t check for sprains. He opens his mouth to say something.

But you cut him off, bringing your finger to your lips and sucking. “I broke it when I picked your lock.” 

“Your finger?” he sounds mad.

“My nail.” you clarify, voice quieter now. A response at his own tone.

The cord that pulled his shoulders taut and froze his spine breaks its tension. He exhales. The rest of him follows, and with softness, he whispers. “Let me see.” 

You lift your hand to him carefully, and his strong fingers wrap around the base of your thumb and your palm. He inspects it with such care you’d think it was a protocore worth his time. “Looks bad.” 

“Feels bad.” You confirm, tugging at your hand. But with no real force. Maybe just to see if he would let go. 

He doesn’t. In fact, he looks pained. Maybe he had been looking pained this whole time— when he cleaned your cuts, when he pulled the bullet out of your shoulder and stitched up the gaping hole. Too engrossed in your guilt, you hadn’t noticed that what you thought was anger on his face was something else entirely. Anguish. Worry. The last fraying thread of composure his sanity clings to tonight. His grasp tightens around your hand, and he cleans it with the same tenderness he gave your worse injuries.

Then he pulls your hand up to his lips. His breath ghosts over your skin, heat lacing through your veins, down your arm and pooling in the crevices of your chest. “Call me, next time. When you need help.” 

He gauges your expression. He looks different here. His usual blood-cursed irises now looking like sweet, warm honey in the glow of the firelight. 

“Please.” He insists, voice low and imploring. It snaps you out of your reverie, and you nod. That’s enough for him. 

You spend the rest of the night talking, or at least he tries to keep you talking. You still did have a concussion after all. 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

You shouldn’t be surprised, and yet. In the mirror, you scrutinized yourself in the dress he bought you. The shifting hues of black and red at the movement, how the gloves looked like starlight and felt like butter on your arms. How the heavy diamonds adorning your ears and your neck glimmer in the ambient light of his guest room.

There is a knock on the door and at your command, it swings open to reveal an equally stunning leader of Onychinus.

The strap of his watch catches his skin as he pushes the door open. He’s scowling at his wrist when you see him. And as he looks up, he meets your wide-eyed gaze in the mirror. There is a rupturing, caving so grand in your chest at his heated gaze. A smile he cannot help graces his dangerously, beautiful lips. “You look…” 

“My dress,” you say at the same time. Desperate, quick to fill the silence that stuffed the room now that there are two people in it. Now that he— handsome and alluring— is in it. You need to get a grip. “Can—“ you pause when you realize he was speaking too. But he simply gestures for you to go on. “Can you help me?” 

Sylus takes in the ask and nods. Willing the thrumming in his chest to cease and his breathing to steady as he comes up behind you. Closer and closer until you feel the heat of his fingers on your skin. 

“I’m going to—“

“Go ahead.” you feel his knuckle glide up the skin of your back as he zips you up snugly in the dress. So perfectly fit, you tried to find a flaw— but there was none. The glitter didn’t scratch under your arms, the fabric didn’t itch around your waist and it draped just below your ankles. it was soft and flexible enough should you have to move more than needed during tonight’s operation, you could. 

Something stirs in you that Sylus, under the guise of wanting to handle things himself, still took to account specific, necessary modifications for your comfort without you having to say a word. 

“Thanks.” you say, catching the reflection of his eyes again. His own lingers on the zipper for a moment before he pulls his hands away like he’d touched fire. He grunts in reply. Whatever he came in to say was lost to him, and frankly, he had no interest in getting it back.

“Take your time.” he says instead, voice tight. Then, unable to say another word, he turns on his heel and marches out with a rigid spine and stiff shoulders. Unbeknownst to you, his ears had gone as crimson as his irises. Meanwhile, you curl in on yourself, nails digging into your arms as you drop to your ankles, willing yourself into a ball to distract from the inferno in your chest. 

Good thing the dress was stretchy.

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

“Sylus?” turning, you wonder how it was possible to lose such a tall, formidable man. 

The crowd is an ocean that pulls you within its current however-much you push against. He asked you, very kindly, actually, to stay by his side— or so you recall. And yet the pastries, the trinkets, the lanterns and the small stall with the adoptable pets have charmed you like the lilt of a flute’s tune. 

The Linkon plaza is never this crowded, if it weren’t for the new year festival. From his cave, you thought you’d lure him out and show him how bright and happy a celebration should be beyond the confines of the base. Sure, the lanterns are up, the gold coins are scattered, the streamers and confetti have littered the floors of the mansion (thanks to the eagerness of the twins), but being out with the people celebrating the arrival of a new year is still, you argued, different. 

“I don’t need anyone else.” He’d said when you coined the idea. With his gentle look, and the hint of a challenge beneath a raised brow. You turn away before he spots the visual evidence of the prickles you feel under the flesh of your cheeks. He still does, anyway. It makes him grin. 

Never truly one to deny you, he agrees on one condition: stay close. And here you are… not. 

“Excuse me— sorry.” You weave through people as gently as you could, straining your neck trying to look over countless heads to find familiar moon-touched hair. A part of you itches in frustration— with his height, he should find you easily. Why wasn’t he looking for you?

The crowd spits you out by a sidewalk where children have gathered nearby to watch a puppet show. He’s impossible to miss in his red coat and bright white hair. There he stood in the back of the short crowd, watching intently as the paper dragon dances with the princess. 

You wander next to him quietly, not wanting to disrupt his intrigue. There was a far-away look in his eyes that made you wonder if he was watching at all. When he flinches ever so slightly as the dragon is slain, you’re sure he is. 

He feels your hand slip into his palm, and his fingers instinctively find their place between the spaces of your own. And something like freshly cooked rice or a hearty soup travels down into your chest at the feeling that this— this was right. You should have been doing this from the moment you arrived; then you wouldn’t have wandered, then you wouldn’t have strayed. You make a mental note: don’t let go. 

He thinks of how well you’ve gotten at sneaking up on him. 

Your grasp tightens. “There you are.” 

“You left me.” he says, his voice a little raspy from underuse. Unlike yours, that has been yelling his name the moment you realized he was gone. 

“No, I didn’t.” you insist, nudging him. “I just lost you for a second.” 

“Felt like ages, sweetie.” he says, looking at you. He means to tease, but his words carry the weight of a lifetime.

“Sylus.” you frown. You don’t like the way his features look haunted by a specter you cannot slay. Your free hand comes to touch his face, fingers brushing just below his eye, easing lightness back beneath his skin. “I found you.” 

And as if by your touch, his soul snaps into place. This one, now. Not any other life before. His brows unfurl and his distance from sea to shore recedes. A tenderness. A gratefulness. A prideful, present sort of affection. “You did.” 

“Wasn’t easy.” you huff, shoulders sinking in frustration. Spreading out the tension as the air between you has gotten too thin. But your hand stays in place, curling around his jaw to stabilize itself. Your thumb has a mind of its own, rubbing the back of his hand. To ground him, you say. For him. For… you, too. “There are too many things, I got a little overwhelmed.” 

He smirks, reaching up to your face and swiping his thumb over the corner of your lip. It comes away stained with blue icing. From the very cupcake that lured you away. He brings it to his lips and tastes it. “Show me.” 

“Hm?” you blink, distracted at the act. The sound of your pulse muffling your ears, drowning out the droning of the crowd. 

“Show me the many things.” he says again, a chuckle sanding his tone. His voice is clear as day, the only true thing you hear in the cheerful chaos of the festival. He shakes your joined hands. “I’ve got you.” 

𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 𓇢𓆸 ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

thank you for reading!

[suiana]

yandere! dragon hybrid who's been ostracized since birth. his father fell for a dragon and his mother died during child birth. it's been him and his father since and things with the rest of society haven't been good. after all dragon-human relationships are taboo and you know how people are with those deemed weird.

yandere! dragon hybrid who's bullied and left out. no matter how hard he tries, it's never enough. people are heartless, even if his father tries to tell him otherwise. how can you change the foundations of society? when all humans are taught that dragons are dangerous and a threat to mankind. poor little dragon, left to deal with life all alone... then he met you :3

"why're you crying?" huh? is someone talking to him? he quickly wipes away the tears, sniffling softly as he musters up a small smile. can't show anyone he's hurt. it'll just worsen things and he doesn't want his father to worry. "n-nope! not at all!" "you're lying!" the young dragon can only watch in silence as your tiny hands rub at his wet cheeks, your warm body fitting snugly by his side. huh... this feels nice. is this what it's like to have a friend? do you want you be friends? "don't cry! crying is bad because it means you're sad." you pause before grinning at him. for a moment, the little boy feels his heart skip a beat. is this normal? is he sick? he hopes not. he doesn't wanna be sick, not when he finally feels wanted by someone. "you can come to me if you're sad! I'll make you happy!"

yandere! dragon hybrid who grows up by your side as your best friend. you two are both adults now and you're the only one who's been nice to him. even when he's tried befriending others, none are as sweet or as welcoming as you are. it hurt at first but he's learned to accept it. it's okay if others are mean, you're by his side, and that's all that matters.

"you're my best friend." best friend. somehow, that title is a little irritating to him. but he pushes it aside. why would it be annoying? it must just be him overthinking things again. no one's going to steal you away from him. "yeah, you're my best friend too." the dragon feels his heart flutter again. oh, your sweet smile and beautiful voice... how he wants to capture this moment and put it on repeat for eternity. sure, the best friend thing is still off-putting but like, you're here! that's all that matters. he'd give up everything for you, you know? but then you just have to go and mess it up by running to that boy again. "again?" he feels his annoyance spike again. it's like the best friend title but worse. this... this boy. you've been getting too close to him lately. all you ever do is gush about him when you get the chance and it's starting to get on his nerves. you don't get this excited talking to someone who's 'just a friend'. "mhm! sorry, I'll be back tomorrow!" and off you go, running along with that nobody and leaving him in the dust. best friend? hah! that's it. he's made up his mind about this... issue. you're being stolen away from him and he's going to fix it. don't worry, you only need him anyway. who needs another friend when you have him?

yandere! dragon hybrid who's turned out to be rather possesive. he's decided he doesn't want to be just friends anymore and now he's making sure you see that. by killing off that guy you're crushing on, of course. i mean, what better way than to show you?

"get away from me!" he pouts. you've never screamed at him before. is it because he's dirty? well, he supposes that he is covered in blood. does it stink? "I'm sorry, I'll clean up and we can go for ice cream-" "ice cream?! you think we can just go back to being normal after you- you killed him?!" oh, you're really mad. the dragon's smile falters and he lowers his clenched fist. what to do... what to do... he really doesn't like making you upset. he remembers throwing your toy away once and you ignored him for a whole week! he never wants to experience that again! "I'm sorry... what do you want me to do? how do i make up for it?" he smiles again. ah, right. maybe he can just get rid of another pest that's been annoying you? perhaps that guy that's been looking at you funny? maybe you'd like it? "no! you can't make it up to me! he's dead god damnit! you're a murderer! just piss off and leave me alone!" silence. then he's caging you against a wall. his eyes are wide, face completely devoid of his usual smile and warmth as he keeps you trapped between him and the cold wall. he can't let you escape. he won't let you. you're his. "you're mine, remember? my best friend." best friend... he doesn't like the sound of that anymore. it's too... how do you say it. too small of a title. too small to encapsulate how he feels about you. "i want all of you, darling."

yandere! dragon hybrid who finally has you. yay! you're his now! sure you might be a little snappy but that's alright! you'll warm up to him again and you two will be happy together! only this time, you're not just friends anymore.

"oh piss off. i don't need you staring at me 24/7." it's been like this for a few days now and your dragon's feeling a little down. he knows that humans are emotional. hell, he's half of a human! but he really misses how you used to treat him and he just wants you to smile at him again. "I'm sorry..." what does he say now? you're mad at him and clearly don't want him to bother you. is it because he took you to his secret hide out? he hasn't told you about this place before because he wanted to surprise you. but clearly you aren't happy :( "you're just really beautiful." he means it. you're the stars, the flowers, and everything that's beautiful in this world. if he had it his way, you'd be the face of beauty anywhere and everywhere. the dragon looks up and freezes. is that... a blush he sees? "...flattery will get you no where." god! you're blushing AND saying that! it feels like heaven's blessing him! "a-ah..." he stammers and looks away, rubbing his fingers together. inside, his heart is thumping and his brain is racing with imaginary scenarios. soon, you'll want him to compliment you! and then- "my mate." god, he hopes that day comes soon. to call you his mate... that would be a dream.

[vultursvolans]

— ☆ contents: dealing with dragon!form zhongli who possesses cat-like behaviours. human reader. dragon husband. sfw. fluff. established relationship. might be a little ooc. this is very unserious. 0.6k. | masterlist (i’m a dark content blog so mdni).

Dragon!Zhongli who acts much like an affectionate housecat despite his towering size and the magnitude of his status.

He, who is so comfortable around his human partner that he isn't afraid to bear his dragon form day-to-day, lest his cat-like behaviours (endearing as they are) go unnoticed.

Every time you run your fingers through the silk of his dark locks or scratch at the base of his horns, that's when it starts. A deep, soothing vibration beneath his scaled chest. The low rumble is almost hypnotic as his amber eyes drift closed, lulling him (and yourself) into a state of ease. If you remain watchful, you'll catch the corners of his lips curl ever-so-slightly upwards.

You can’t help but giggle because you know it’s not quite purring, but it might as well be.

Dragon!Zhongli whose tail is as much part of his personality as his deep voice and eloquent spiels. First and foremost, that thing is unapologetically heavy. When he’s in a good mood, it swishes around lazily, thumping against the furniture or brushing against your legs as he walks by.

Once it knocked over an entire stack of books and while you were busy laughing, he just sighed and said, “An unfortunate accident.” But if he’s feeling especially affectionate? Even worse. That's when you really have to watch out. It possessively curls around you and suddenly you’re dealing with the weight of a solid tail pulling you closer to him. You’ve almost toppled over a few times because of it.

“Careful, Zhongli,” you’ll tell him. “You might end up sweeping me off my feet.” Then he chuckles at you, tail tightening around your waist just a smidge.

That’s the idea, of course.

Dragon!Zhongli who feigns annoyance every time you act on your favourite habit: lifting his lips to inspect his fangs.

They’re a far cry from the tiny, delicate teeth of a cat, which is the only other creature you’ve subjected to this odd little inspection but that makes them even more fascinating.

"Must you do this every time?" he asks, lips pulling back just enough for you to admire them. They were sharp, pristine, and unsettlingly perfect. Enough to crack a bone with a single snap of his jaw but it was the same mouth he kissed you with. You never got used it.

"I'm lucky you’ve never nicked me with these," you’ll tease, brushing your finger along the largest fang.

Zhongli's responses are always the same: a long exhale as if you've just asked him to recite every contract he's ever known (which he could btw), followed by, “You’re enamoured with the oddest things.” But he lets you do it anyway. His words begin lose a bit of their weight when his tail slowly starts swaying behind him, exposing that he’s enjoying it more than he lets on.

And no one will ever believe you when you tell them how he is when he's feeling playful. It's a rarity but he'll nudge you gently with his horns as a display of affection and if you don't respond right away, he'll flick his tail at you. Not hard but enough for you to look his way.

Pay attention to me, it seems to say.

It’s mischievous, even if for a moment. Then you’ll catch a glint in his eye while he pretends to be all composed, but truly, he finds it amusing how he easily this form could be used as a weapon against you when he warrants his own needs.

The mighty dragon, who can command the earth itself, is stripped of his grandeur when you're around, replaced by a creature who wants nothing more than to be with you in the simplest way. And if you mention it, he’ll give you that look of half exasperation and half fondness before pulling you closer and acting like it’s purely your fault he’s such a softie with you.

a/n: if it wasn’t obvious already, i am a cat person (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

© 2025 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

[misswynters]

More than a Transaction

featuring. sevika x gn!reader

requested by anon

The brothel wasn’t a place for love. It was a place for survival, a stage where affection was an act and intimacy a commodity. You’d grown used to it, the numb to the fleeting touches, the hollow words whispered in your ear. Love had never been in the cards for you, and you’d long since accepted it.

That was until she walked in. The first time you saw Sevika, she stood out from the usual clientele. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a presence that turned heads and silenced conversations. Her mechanical arm gleamed under the dim lights, and her dark eyes swept the room like she was looking for something, or maybe someone.

���I need a room,” she said, her voice gravelly and low, the kind that made you pause.

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask questions. You’d heard whispers about her before, Silco’s right hand, a woman to be feared. Yet as she followed you upstairs, her heavy boots echoing against the floorboards, she didn’t seem dangerous. Just… tired.

In the room, she sat on the edge of the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She looked around, her gaze lingering on the peeling wallpaper and the flickering candle on the nightstand. “You don’t look like you belong here,” she said, breaking the silence.

You crossed your arms as your looked at her. “Neither do you.”

Her lips quirked into a smirk. “Fair enough.”

At the time, you thought she was just another patron. Someone passing through, here for a night of comfort before disappearing back into the shadows of Zaun. But Sevika wasn’t like the others. The first few visits were business. Silco had sent her to gather information, and the brothel was the perfect place for secrets to spill. She came to you because you were good at what you did: disarming people with a smile, coaxing out truths without them realizing.

“What’s he like?” you asked one evening, lounging on the bed as she nursed a glass of whiskey.

“Who?” she asked.

“Silco. Your boss.” you said plainly.

Sevika leaned back, her smirk fading into something thoughtful. “He’s… complicated. But he knows what he wants, and he doesn’t stop until he gets it.”

“God, sounds exhausting,” you said with a wry smile.

She chuckled, the sound low and rough. “It is.”

You didn’t press further, and she didn’t offer more. But as the weeks passed, her visits became less about Silco and more about you.

One evening, Sevika arrived looking worse for wear. Her knuckles were split, her lip bruised, and a storm cloud seemed to hang over her head.

“What happened to you?” you asked, grabbing a damp cloth to clean her wounds.

“Work,” she muttered, wincing as you dabbed at her lip.

“You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days,” you said, your tone sharper than you intended.

She smirked despite the pain. “What, worried about me or something?”

You didn’t answer, focusing instead on her hand, where fresh blood was crusted over her skin. Her gaze lingered on you as you worked, softer than usual.

“You’re different,” she said after a long pause.

You glanced up. “Different how?”

“From the others. You don’t… fake it the same way.”

You laughed bitterly. “I fake it just like everyone else.”

She shook her head. “Not with me.” Her words hung in the air, heavy and confusing. You didn’t know how to respond, so you didn’t. The silence even though had some tension lingering was comforting.

Over time, Sevika became a fixture in your life. She brought small gifts when she visited. A book she thought you’d like, a bottle of wine she’d picked up on the way, a scarf when the weather turned cold. “You’re spoiling me,” you teased one night as you unwrapped a delicate silver bracelet she’d brought.

“Maybe I like spoiling you,” she replied, her smirk softening into something almost shy.

You’d never had someone treat you like this before. For so long, you’d told yourself you didn’t need love, that it wasn’t meant for people like you. But Sevika made you question that.

One evening, she arrived in an even darker mood than usual. Her fists were clenched, her jaw tight, and the tension radiated off her like a storm.

“Rough night?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light. She didn’t answer right away, pacing the room like a caged animal. Finally, she stopped, her eyes meeting yours.

“Why do you do this?” she asked abruptly.

“Do what?” you asked with a slight concerned look on your face.

“This,” she said, gesturing around the room. “This life. You’re better than this place.” Her words stung more than they should have. “And what should I be doing instead?” you snapped. “Changing the world? Leading a revolution?”

“You could,” she said simply.

You stared at her, caught off guard. She wasn’t mocking you as you thought a second ago, she meant it.

“Why do you care?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

She stepped closer, her rough hand brushing against yours. “Because you’re worth more than this. You just don’t see it yet.”

That night, something shifted between you. Sevika stopped pretending her visits were for Silco and started coming just for you. She stayed longer, lingering even after the candles burned low. You talked for hours, about everything and nothing.

“What do you want out of life?” she asked one night, her voice softer than usual.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I’ve never thought about it.”

“Well, think about it,” she said, leaning back against the bed with a rare, relaxed air. “You deserve more than this.”

Her words stayed with you long after she left. The brothel wasn’t a place for love, but somehow, Sevika had found you there. She wasn’t perfect, far from it. She was rough around the edges, guarded and prone to anger. But with you, she was different. Softer. And for the first time in your life, you felt truly seen.

“Stay with me,” you whispered one night as she pulled on her jacket to leave.

She paused, her hand hovering over the door handle. “I can’t promise you a happy ending,” she said, her voice heavy with regret.

“I don’t need to be happy,” you replied. “I just want you.” Sevika turned, her dark eyes searching yours. Finally, she closed the distance between you, her calloused hand cupping your cheek.

“You’ve got me,” she said softly, her lips brushing against yours. “For as long as you’ll have me.” And for the first time, the brothel didn’t feel like a place of survival. It felt like home.

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[laurasimonsdaughter]

Picture this: Dragons using their caves to age cheese. Dragon Cheesemakers!!

The dragon coiled his enormous body, completely blocking the entrance of the tunnel that lead to the caves.

“No,” he snarled, smoke pluming from his nose.

The cheesemonger pinched the bridge of her own nose. “Look, I explained this to you at the start,” she tried once more. “I make cheese.”

“Yes,” the agreed, nodding his scaly head.

“Then I bring the cheese here.”

“Yes.”

“Then you store all the cheese in your cave, keeping it at the perfect temperature and humidity.”

“Yes.” He sounded particularly proud of this part.

“And then when the cheese has ripened,” she concluded. “I come to pick the cheese up again.”

A thunderous scowl clouded his maw. “No.”

“But that’s how it works!” she cried in exasperation. “I make the cheese, you store the cheese, I sell the cheese, I make more cheese!” She peered up at him. “You do realise I cannot bring you new cheese until I have sold this cheese.”

The dragon considered this for a moment. “Ah, but what if—” he began. “What if you go and make more cheese. And bring me the cheese. And I put it in my cave, with the rest of the hoard. And then I keep it there forever.”

“No,” she said flatly.

It was remarkable how much a dragon could look like it had just swallowed a lemon.

“You can’t keep cheese forever,” she insisted. “It will spoil and go bad!”

“You said it would get better and better!” the dragon roared indignantly. “And I take good care of them! With the air flow and the humidity and the temperature!”

“And that is great,” she said, trying to smile through her frustration. “But when a cheese is ripe, it’s ripe! Then you should not be kept anymore, it should be eaten.”

The dragon scraped it’s formidable claws against the stony ground and sulked.

“Look…” The cheese mongering business did not tend to require a lot of sweet-talking, but she was making an effort. “I’m sure the cheeses that aged in your cave are the best cheeses people have ever tasted. When they find out how delicious they are they will want us to make loads more. Maybe several caves’ worth!”

The reptilian eyes stared at her with disgruntled, reluctant interest. “Several caves?”

“If we’re lucky! And I could make so much cheese that I could bring you new cheese as soon as I pick up the aged cheese. Your cave would never even be empty!”

This seemed to strike a chord. The dragon lifted his head a little.

“And that would really be much better for the rest of your hoard,” she continued with fresh inspiration. “Because if you leave cheese too long, it might go bad and spoil the cheeses next to it too!”

A nervous ripple went through the beast’s scaly body, but he clearly was not convinced just yet. “But what sort of a hoard is it if I have to give it away,” he complained.

“Well! Cheese is not just any old hoard! It’s a developing creation! And you will have a hoard that is constantly developing too. Constantly changing, but, if we do this right, never shrinking.”

The dragon looked at her solemnly, wavering with uncertainty. Perhaps she shouldn’t hold it against the poor thing, it must be a difficult concept to wrap his head around.

“And I will tell you what,” she said encouragingly. “If business is good, I can start investing in some really good crumbly cheeses. You can keep those in your cave for five whole years!”

“That is quite a long time for humans, is it not?” he said, sounding a little more cheerful.

“Very long. Especially when it comes to cheese. Cheeses that have been aged that long are very expensive.”

In retrospect, she should perhaps have led with that. Gourmand or not, a dragon was still a dragon after all. A glittering, toothy grin appeared on her recalcitrant business partner’s shout and he moved just enough for her to move past him into the mountain.

“Tell me more about this expensive cheese that crumbles.”

She hid a smirk. “If you help me carry some of the current ones out, it would be my pleasure.”

[nyastesticles]

has this been done already

[clairewritesfanfics]

Inside an Otoge: Mister Dragon, Let Me Love You Chapter 1

Pairing: Dragon!Sylus x Non-MC!Reader

Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

Synopsis: A depressed, transmigrated fan dedicates their life worshipping their favorite character. (Because not everyone can be a badass like MC.)

Trigger Warnings: depression, mentions of self-harm and suicide attempts

Imagine being a depressed and overworked person, on the brink of throwing away your life, when your attempt is interrupted by an ad of Sylus' voice saying, "I adore you. There is no love purer than mine." Broken and alone, the words of a fictional character sends you to tears and you stop yourself from doing the unthinkable.

Finding hope again, if only in the brief moments spent playing a dating sim, you decided to give life a chance. You continued with the same routine, waking up, going to work, eating the same cheap meals from the convenience store and finding happiness with your favorite character. You used any spare money you had to buy Sylus merch and get all his cards. Life wasn't perfect, but you were content.

Until one day, you were sucked into a mysterious wormhole that transported you to a familiar, otherworldly room filled with rare metals, sparkling jewels and all sorts of weapons. 

Lying on a bed of velvet is a back that is all too familiar.

You’ve taken over a hundred photos of that back and have memorized every vein, every muscle, even the way the spine dips oh so deliciously. 

Is this heaven? Paradise?

A place that grants all your hedonistic desires?

Did God take pity on your pathetic existence and decided to give you a second chance?

No, this is probably a dream–”Ow!” You pinch yourself a little too hard. Nope, not a dream.

You glance at your hands and body, you are still you. In the game, this part should be when the Main Character attempts an assassination, but you aren’t the MC here. There is a chance–no, the probability of you dying here is as good as 99%. You have no powers, no system, skill or cheat to help you here. 

But if you were going to die, at least you can go on your own terms.

“Um, excuse me? Hello?” 

The dragon says nothing and you opt to crawl towards him. “Mister Dragon? Are you awake?” Knowing that death is almost certain, you decide to throw away all inhibitions and reach out to trace the curve of his spine. “Hello–!”

His cold, spiked tail wraps around your waist until the tip rests on your chest. You cannot help but gasp when your favorite turns to face you.

No 3D rendered model or painting from your world could capture even a tenth of the true thing's magnificence. Official sources said he was 6'2", but the real thing looks like he surpassed two meters. He towered over you completely. Maybe it isn’t height alone but his very aura that makes you feel so small. 

He is so beautiful. 

“My, what do we have here? A stray puppy?”

That voice is as smooth and deep as melted chocolate. You want to thank God, Buddha, Satan and all other powerful entities for letting you witness this moment. 

He stares down at you, assessing everything. If you had known you’d end up here you would’ve taken a bath and worn something better. 

“How odd. You have no magic power and you lack any muscle that most assassins and warriors have. It’s almost as if you’re an ordinary person.”

Okay, ouch. But he isn’t wrong. 

You raise both hands. “You’re right, I’m as average as they come.” 

“Then tell me what an ‘average’ citizen such as yourself wanted with me.”

You tilt your head in thought before answering, “I wanted to meet you.”

“Surely, you’re joking.”

“I’m perfectly serious.”

“You must take me for a fool.”

“No, I truly did want to meet you.” 

“Why are you here? Surely, you didn’t come here to die.”

“No.” Though you were prepared. “I just wanted to see you.”

The fiend watches you closely. His eyes can pierce through any lie, but your gaze is as clear as a cloudless sky and without a trace of deception. He is unsure how to feel about this.

“You’re quite bold. But an ordinary person wanting to meet me for the sake of it feels too odd to be true. Quite stupid, even. Did it ever occur to you that I may not be so polite and just end up taking your heart?”

You raise your head, steady and unfearful as you ask, “Will taking my heart make you happy?” 

You want to tell him that every part of you belongs to him now, but even you would cringe at such cheesiness. You decide to be normal about this. “If my organs will make you happy then take them, but I do have a request.” You wriggle closer. “When you take my heart, please look into my eyes until I die.”

You’ve met your favorite, your savior. In a way, Sylus gave you a second chance at life. It seemed only fitting to perish with him being the last thing you see. 

Sylus stares at you with guarded curiosity. “I’ve never met someone so eager to die before. Either that or you are an excellent liar.” Some humans are trickier than others, they will say anything to get the upper hand. 

“Don’t get cocky, human.” His tail tightens around you. “I don’t know what you’re planning but it’d be all too easy to kill you.”

He expects you to resist, to scream or cry or seduce him. 

Instead, you cover your mouth, the edges curling upwards despite your efforts to appear serious. But it’s not your fault, he’s so cute when he tries to be menacing! You have no doubt that he’d just kill an NPC, but he will always be attractive to you, even as he threatens to rip your heart out.

“This is no laughing matter. Dragons are territorial, you should’ve thought twice before trespassing into my domain.”

“Sy–ahem, Mister Dragon, please remember my request when you end my life.”

“... I’m really going to do it.”

“I know!” You nod your head vigorously, the grin you try so hard to suppress looks ridiculous to him. Compared to throwing yourself in front of a train or overdosing on pills, this is your ideal way to die.

“...” 

“...”

“... tsk.” He releases you and you can’t help but miss the feeling of his tail choking you. Oh, well. 

“Mister Dragon?”

He returns to lying on his treasures, back turned away from you. 

Not wanting him to think that you were going to backstab him, you get down on all fours and crawl towards the fancy bed. “Sir Dragon?” 

He remains silent.

"Amazing, extraordinary, most handsome and venerable Lord Dragon–”

"Enough. Don't call me those embarrassing titles." He sighs and proceeds to give you his name. In the game's canon, the MC couldn't pronounce his name properly and called him Sylus instead. But the MC and Sylus have yet to meet.

Before you are two choices: 1) use his proper name, or 2) pretend that you can't pronounce it and ask to use "Sylus" instead. With the first option, there would be a connection between the two of you due to being the only person alive who knows his name. With the latter, you'd be stealing a defining moment for the heroine. Either way, the consequences will result in you forming a bond with Sylus.

The dragon waits for you to reply.

There is no need to complicate things, so you beam stupidly. "Your name is kind of hard to pronounce... can I just call you 'Sylus' instead?"

"Do what you want."

"Thanks."

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” He can’t believe he was teaching etiquette to a human.

“Er, right.” You give him your name. Though with that voice, he can call you whatever he wants.

“I won’t stop you so go back the way you came and leave me be.”

“I can’t.”

“This isn’t a request. Get out while I’m still being patient.”

“I mean, I literally can’t. I’m not from this place and I don’t know how to get back home.” To be frank, you have little interest in returning. Aside from the next LADS update, you aren’t going to miss anything. No friends, no family, only superiors who took advantage of you and a cold, barren apartment with a rent that was two months due. 

Sylus sighs and rolls over. He lays an arm over his torso, looking gorgeous as he looks at you with eyes full of disdain. “Trying to get me to pity you, isn’t going to work.”

“I’m not.” You don’t need his or anybody else’s pity. You are simply tired, and you were sick of pretending that you aren’t. When Sylus does lose his temper, then at least you could be honest in your final moments. 

Part 2: here Masterlist: here

Edit: Had to tweak the part where Sylus gives his name to Y/N.

[dragon-ascent]

Imagine how curious about humanity Morax must have been when he first began ruling over them. Pre-Liyue and pre-Guili Assembly era. He probably didn't even have a human form then, so he'd lord his land in exuvia form.

"Why do you humans cover your bodies?" the draconic god asks you, eyes sweeping over the long tunic you're wearing. His elongated form coils nicely around the hilltop, with enough room still for his tail to swish around.

You're nearly sent rolling down this hill in surprise at your god's question. "Well, my lord," you squeak after a beat, "clothes protect us from the heat and cold. They also protect our modesty."

"Modesty?" he repeats.

Nodding, you continue meekly, "Our bodies are precious and certain parts are private. It's embarrassing for other people to see them..." Your face burns with every word you say.

The god mulls this over for a moment. "I see. It is a body possessed by all, yet it must be concealed...how intriguing."

Not wanting to let this drag on, you start to turn around. "I-if you'll excuse me, my lord, I need to go take a bath. It's been a long day outside..."

Morax seems to think for a moment. "Very well. Allow me to assist you." His tail wags.

Your eyes widen. "Assist with - with the bath?!"

"Yes. Why not?"

It feels like you'll explode from the mortification. "Modesty, my lord...I wish to protect my modesty!" You fret over whether he'll find it rude if you just took off and ran right about now.

Morax tilts his head, his fur whipping in the evening breeze. "But I am not a human, so you needn't protect yourself from me. And as a god, it is my duty to help my people where I am able."

"So kind of you, yes! But no thank you! Goodbye!" You practically tumble down the hill to get away, leaving a slightly nonplussed Morax behind.

Unfortunately, the river you go to bathe in is also the river Morax has decided to drink from today. He maintains eye contact with you the whole time.

[gtgbabie0]

Aegon Targaryen x Wife!reader

Synopsis: {The upcoming war has brought a great stress upon you which causes you to go into an early labour}

!CW!//blood, premature childbirth// Enjoy lovelies💕

The days following Aegon’s coronation were nothing short of exhausting, the mornings dragged and the nights were sleepless. The new king found himself in over his head with the only solace being you, someone who has stubbornly been there for him since childhood.

There was a familiarity to your warmth and kind words of encouragement, you were his only constant in a world of ever-changing conditions and he latched onto that never willing to let go. Always checking up on you and the babe inside your womb with worried eyes.

In turn, you had done the same, constantly seeking him out when horrible thoughts of the brewing war were all that plagued your mind, leaving you paranoid and constantly on edge.

You were each other’s anchors in ways that you both never thought possible.

The afternoon sun drips through the clouds, casting warm orangey rays through Kings Landing and across the Red Keep, bathing your shared bedchambers in a comforting light.

It is supposedly meant to be peaceful, or that is what Aegon thought when he practically demanded for you to stay in bed. Yet it has proven to be much more stressful, the books and cross-stitching doing nothing to distract your mind from what lingers over the horizon.

You have taken to pacing the length of the room, much to the dismay of your maids who watch on with panic in their eyes. A few of them had prompted you to sit down, trying to sway you with tea and sweet cakes but you waved them all off with a frown, desperately trying to ignore the dull pain that was beginning to grow in the small of your back.

You refuse to believe that your baby is arriving, it is far too early, yet you can hear the Maesters voice in the back of your mind telling you how ‘stress is not good for the babe’.

“Your grace, please take a seat.” The youngest of your maids try once more, daring to step forward to you with careful footing as if you were some sort of scared deer.

At her words you shake your head, turning your back to her with a small sigh, your fingers pressing against your lower spine and your other hand resting against the swell of your belly.

“Where is my husband?” You demand, turning back to face the women whose eyes never leave you.

“The King is attending a small council meeting, he shan’t be long, your grace.” Her words do nothing to calm the way your hands tremble nor the thoughts that race through your mind, despite how soft her tone is.

You purse your lips together tightly with a sharp inhale as shooting pain rips through your lower abdomen, causing you to hunch over slightly, grasping onto a chair for support.

You can hear the women behind gasp, saying something about blood but it all seems like distant noise almost as if you were underwater. There is little you can do but groan in pain, finally allowing your maids to guide you over to your bed.

You know something is deeply wrong, having already been through this once before. But that was extremely different, your mother was there even Aegon who stood speechless in the corner of the room with wide eyes… Gods you were both so young then, it seemed like a memory that wasn’t yours.

Now you are alone, save for the Maesters and Maids who are frantically trying to keep your temperature down with damp cloths, water dribbling down the side of your temples as you lay in fear.

You push yourself up onto your elbow, resting up on the mountain of pillows, letting out a strained cry at the feeling of an agonising pain that cramps up your abdomen causing you to fist the bedsheets beneath you.

The sound of your bedchamber doors slamming open catches your attention, but only for a brief moment before collapsing back down against the bed with a stomach-churning cry.

The staff around you don’t dear to try and turn Aegon away, especially when his eyes darken at the sight of the blood stains on your chemise and bedspread, a heavy look of terror masked behind an anger that sends a chill through the hot room.

“She is bleeding— why is she bleeding?!” He shouts, demanding an answer from the Maester who is trying to coax you to breathe deeply and then push.

His demands are met with silence before Orwyle steps away from the bed where you lay, squirming in pain. The maids and nurses all rush together, trying to guide your breathing through your clenched teeth.

“The babe is breeched your grace, coming feet first.” Maester Orwyle says, casting his eyes down to the floor with a troubled expression.

The sound of your agony echos within Aegon’s mind sending his thoughts spiralling far out of his control, the helplessness of it all eats away at him making his hands tremble with frustration that he can’t do anything to help you, to take you away from this damned situation. His eyes dart around the room in a panic, looking anywhere but at you as if he was trying to find a hidden answer to save you from this nightmare.

“Well, then why are you still standing here? Do something, help her!” He shouts, slamming his closed fists down upon the wooden table as he watches the Maester scurry back to the bed.

He stands there frozen, his breathing ragged suffocating on his own emotions. He wants the throw things, and curse the gods, the mother and the warrior because where is mercy and strength as you lay there in this torment?

“Aegon…” the sound of his name leaving you so weakly, the hushed word that is strained in desperation tumbling past your chapped lips hits him square in his chest, almost flooring him in shock.

His body moves on its own, practically collapsing onto the edge of the bed with his brows pinched together and his glossed-over eyes looking down at you. He wants to help you so bad but the only thing he can do is stroke your hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“Do not leave, stay here please,” you plead through gritted teeth, looking up at him through your bleary sight.

“I am staying… I’m right here.” He tells you firmly, the back of his fingers caressing your warm cheek gently. The cool metal of his rings keeps your eyes from falling close, fighting the fatigue.

He watches you intently, every twitch of your face only sends him further down into this maddening spiral of despair and frustration. “You’re doing so well… keep going.” He whispers, brushing his thumb over your hot cheek.

Aegon doesn’t move from his spot beside you, allowing your hands to tighten harshly around his own each time your body is wrecked by a contraction. He takes one of the damp rags from the maids, dabbing it against your chest and face in hopes of soothing you, even if it is only for a mere second because he cannot… he will not sit there doing nothing.

“We must sit her up,” Orwyle says through the sounds of your screams, resorting to the last possible option.

“What will that do if not cause her more pain?… I will not have her suffer more than she already is.” Aegon retorts with a deep frown, his words stern and laced with worry.

He was extremely stubborn and firm, even more so when the matter was about you. Never letting you leave from his side let alone out of his sight any longer than needed and even then he made sure at least one Kingsguard was standing behind you at all times.

“It is noted that movement helps set the babe correctly, your grace.” His words do very little to calm the maelstrom of dread that wraps around his heart and chokes him up. “Unless you wish to leave her in the hands of the gods…”

Aegon’s eyes meet your own for a very brief moment, the gods have already failed her, he thinks.

“No… no sit her up.” He agrees, looping his arm around your shoulders and pushing you upwards as you demand and scream for him to stop, fingers digging into his arms as you call his name weakly.

The hours that you were in labour for the Red Keep was still, silently waiting on bated breath for news of you and your babes' wellbeing. The echoes of your screams and pleas were the only thing that could be heard even from all the way down in the kitchens.

It was the hour of the owl when you finally made the final push, sinking back down against the pile of soft pillows. “Congratulations your grace… a boy,” Orwyle announces as your son wails making his presence well known. The maids swaddle your son up in a clean blanket before placing him gently upon your chest.

You take deep laboured breaths, your eyes heavy with exhaustion as you look down at your son. He was tinier than the twins when they were born, so much more delicate, his breathing weaker.

Aegon was completely stunned, he doesn't know what to say or do, instead, he simply watches you and the way cradle the baby’s head ever so gently, greeting him with a soft kiss on his forehead.

He had seen this before but yet he still feels as if his heart might just leap out of his chest. An overwhelming feeling of pride bursts through him leaving him all teary-eyed and soft smiles.

“He’s beautiful.” Aegon finally breaks his silence, his voice thick with indescribable emotions. The words don’t do your son justice, the little ball of pureness that is cuddled up against your chest. He can’t believe that something so precious… so innocent could be half him but the shape of his nose could attest that, he was Aegon’s.

You nod softly, brushing the back of your finger across his cheek as you admire him. The rest of the world seems to disappear, the maids cleaning up around you turn into white noise, and all you can focus on is your boy.

“Would you like to hold him?” You ask, voice a little hoarse from all the crying and screaming that was so worth it for the price of this feeling of contentment that has washed over you.

He holds back a sharp response that his hands were too rough, too clumsy. The last thing he wanted to was hurt him, he was already so tiny. You can see the look of trepidation that passes through his amethyst eyes, he was hesitant.

Your fingers slip between his own, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You won’t hurt him Aegon, I promise.” You tell him, melting away all of his persistent worries that had rooted themselves into his heart.

With a small, almost nervous, nod of his head, he pulls the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows before you place the newborn babe in his arms, his heart stops for a small second, the breath in his lungs completely gone and all he can do is marvel down at his son.

“You’re amazing…” he whispers, voice steeped in reverence as he casts his gaze down to you as if you were some sort of deity to worship. You had nurtured a life and now here he is holding that very same life, it completely astonishes him.

You chuckle at his words, lifting your hand to rest against his cheek ever so gently. He leans into the warmth of your palm, pressing a soft kiss against your wrist. “He’s ours Aegon, yours and mine.” You remind him with a weak smile.

It’s a simple word, ours. But the way you say it with such emotion, with no hesitation, leaving no room for doubt to plague his heart made him happy. So happy.

“Ours,” Aegon repeats, brushing the back of his fingers across his son’s cheek ever so gently. “Maelor…” He smiles, testing the name softly before looking back down at you as you nod in agreement, repeating the name lovingly.

☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

The following days were slow, quite a nice change of pace especially with everything that had been happening. You sit, leaning back against the velvet cushions of the chair, with Maelor in your arms as you wait for Aegon and the twins.

“Remember, you have to be gentle and quiet,” Aegon says, walking into the bedchambers with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera at either side of him.

They both let go of his hand before rushing over to you with wide curious eyes, looking down at their new sibling with excitement.

“Can he play with us in the garden?” Jaehaera smiles, looking up at you.

“Not just yet my sweet, he’s got a little growing to do before then.” You tell her softly, brushing her curls behind her ear.

“Am I allowed to read to him?” Jaehaerys asks next, his hand grasping the armchair as he leans over to look down at Maelor.

“Soon, let’s give him time to settle first.” He nods at your words and soon enough they’re both asking question after question.

Aegon stands behind you, his hands massaging your shoulders as you answer the twins with a patience he admires. The sight fills him with a sweet warmth that bleeds through him, his heart full of love. Perhaps the weight of the crown isn’t so bad if it’s for you four.

Dad Aegon as he deserves.