Still thinking about dirty older men... (Yes I will expand on the werewolf idea from the other post)
Wanting to get your very first piercings outside of your ears, going late at night to a studio half way across town where no one will know you or know your family and rat you out for being a 'wild child'.
Finding a studio run by an older dragon hybrid, his scales are a little dull with age and he has a few streaks of grey starting to show but he knows his stuff, stumbling your way through asking for a belly button piercing, laying back on his table and shivering as he pushes your shirt up and clicks his tongue at you.
Sighing as he tells you he can't do it, you don't have the right anatomy he says as he looks down at you, hands on your stomach and hip.
He's covered in gleaming gold piercings so he must be telling the truth, you deflate and simper about really wanting something done, gasping as he pushes your shirt up higher and eyes your chest up, before smirking and saying that he could give you a nice pretty set of silver bars for your nipples instead, cupping your exposed chest and squeezing slightly before pulling back as you sit up.
Feeling flustered as you glare at him, the shine of the bands in his horns, the rings in his ears, eyebrows and septum glitter as he tilts his head, licking his lips as he lets his tail curl around his stool and drag it closer. He could give you a belly ring and send you on your way, but really he just wants to feel up your chest and pinch your nipples all while using the piercing as an excuse to be a little mean.
Turning your head away as you think about if you're really going to go that far for your first ever piercing, just missing how the dragon hybrid reaches down and adjusts his growing bulge, sneaking in a stroke or two to tide him over as you think.
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Warnings: MLM, AMAB Reader, fantasy au, double cock fisting (idk wtf to call it), edging, dacryphilia, petnames, Sylus just kind of thrusts it up in there (note that real anal takes so much prepwork, do NOT do this irl pls), masochism (if you squint), dumbification, scratching, Sylus is secretly a softie and desperate for love.
Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ
You had no idea how you ended up like this. In the dragon's lair, your armor strewn all over the place, and both his and your cock tightly fisted in his large palm. It was pathetic. You were a grown man. A knight for pete's sake! But instead of thrusting your sword into his chest, you were doing a different kind of sword fighting at the moment.
"Sylus..." You moan out his name for what was probably the fiftieth time as he lazily drags his palm over your lengths once more. "Yes, sweet boy?" He asks back, voice rumbling back in that teasing manner that made you want to shove your dick down his throat.
You roll your hips once again, desperately trying to build up more friction. Sylus had kept the two of you on the edge for what seemed like hours now. Every time you or him got close to cumming, he'd only stop his movements. Denying the both of you release, driving the two of you deeper and deeper into the haze of pleasure.
A whine tears from your throat as he rubs his thumb over yours, spreading the pre cum that was beading at your tip. "Such pretty noises." Sylus growls out, panting above you as he tries to restrain himself from rutting his cock against yours.
You choke a sob back as you feel your orgasm rise with you once again. "Please Sylus. I can't take much more of this." You plead, voice shaking as tears well in your eyes and threaten to roll down and stain your cheeks. Sylus chuckles a laugh that matches every single gold coin, precious gemstone, and priceless artifact in his hoard.
"Begging already, puppy?" He asks, his tone taunting as he smirks down at you and you don't know if you want to smack him or kiss it off his stupidly handsome fucking face. "F-ucking hell, Sylus. Fuck me already, will you?" You all but growl out, so close to snapping if he didn't give you release soon.
Sylus raises a brow, halting his hand, making your cock ache for more of his touch. "So demanding." He growls out, shoving your legs apart and gripping his cock at the base with one hand while his other hand spreads you open for his view, your hole clenching around nothing. "Yet your hole is clenching so sluttily." He muses out, making your cheeks warm with embaressment.
Sylus presses the tip of his dick to your entrance, slowly pushing his way inside. You moan out, the stretch burning your walls but the pain felt so good. He keeps pushing until he bottoms out inside you, exhaling heavily, warm breath washing over your ear as he groans at how tight you feel.
"Tell me when I can move, puppy." He breathes out, thumb rubbing circles on your hipbone as he patiently waits for your body to adjust to his size so that he can comfortably move without hurting you. You lay beneath him, whimpering softly and clutching onto him as you wait for the pain to subside.
Eventually, you give a nod and Sylus begins to move slowly, watch your reactions closely, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort. You moan out softly as he moves inside you, only feeling pleasure with each roll of his hips. "That's it, baby. Feels good, doesn't it?" He coos out softly, making you nod. "Mm. M-More. Please." You breathe out, making that smug smirk return to his face.
"As you wish, little knight." He purrs, thrusting faster and harder into you, his hand reaching to wrap back around your length and pump his hand in time with his thrusts, drawing more lewd noises from your pretty throat.
It doesn't take long for him to turn you into a mess, the hours of edging quickly making you dumb on his cock. Drool slipping out your mouth, pupils blown, and nails scratching down his skin and scales. Sylus thrusts deeper inside you, hitting your prostate and making you cry out.
A growl falls from the dragon's throat at the noise and he focuses his attention on the spot, bullying it with the tip of his cock and making you cry out over and over again. Each noise bounces off the walls of his lair and all Sylus can think about is how your worth more than any item in his entire hoard, about how he'd give it all to you if it meant making you happy, if it meant making you his.
"Stay with me. Please. Don't wanna let you go." He pants out, face burrowing into the crook of you neck and nipping at the flesh, hoping to leave marks on your skin. You let out a breathy laugh that gets cut off with a choked moan as he plunges his tip into your warm walls again. "I-I'm a knight, Sylus. I have duties." You manage to choke out between noises.
Sylus all but whines at that answer, making your heart ache. "Then visit me when you can, little knight. My heart is yours." He says, tone pleading, almost vulnerable as his spare hand grasps your waist tenderly.
"F-uck. Alright. I'll visit when I can." You answer, one hand tangling in his white tresses as he ruts up into you. "Mm I'm close." He pants out, his hips stuttering. "Cum with me, puppy." He says, thumb rubbing over your tip, making your hips buck. The two of you tumble into ecstasy together, crying out each others names before collapsing into a tangle of limbs.
Gentle touches and words of praise follow afterwards. Sylus cleans you up and brings you water and snacks and you feed him and press gentle kisses to his collarbone. "Don't go back yet." He pleads softly, holding you closely and you smile softly. "Big bad dragon can't let his new toy go?" You tease but he holds you closer.
"You're not a toy. You're more valuable than my entire hoard." He murmurs, nuzzling into you, scenting you. Your heart melts at his words, your gaze softening as you brush his hair back. "Alright. I guess I can afford to stay for awhile before the King starts to wonder if you ate me alive." You say, making him huff out a laugh of amusement.
"Mm deal." He says softly, tail sneaking to tug you closer as you relax into him, hearts synching as the two of you eventually drift off in the heart of his hoard. But all Sylus can think about is how you've wormed into his heart in such a short amount of time. And for once... he was okay with that.
And so those who knew and respected the creatures known as dragons were no more. Their love and worship began to dwindle, and thus dragons took their places hiding among the elements. They burrowed deep underground, dove to the bottom of the ocean, lived only at the highest altitudes, solemnly slept within fire itself.
The newer generations listened to tales of dragons passed down through generations, but it was all an elaborate corpse to them- a dead story. They began writing their own stories, filled with ice and fire, earth and water and air. These stories brought life and wonder to the tales of the dragons, resurrecting them to a new sort of glory. It was not exactly the same as before, but the stories were made of love, and the telling acted as a new form of worship.
For the first time in what seems like months, the Dragon Clan Elder guarding the Dragon’s Den hears familiar footfalls on the stone steps, growing ever louder as they near the cavern’s entrance. The old man swivels around...and comes face to face with a familiar, sour expression. Ah.
Clair has finally risen from the depths, and she’s not happy about it.
During Blackthorn’s inhospitable winter months, few visitors (if any) dare to venture into the windblown mountain town, so Clair uses the window of opportunity to disappear completely into the Dragon’s Den for intense training and a much-needed personal recharge. Her “sabbatical” has been dubbed the Gym Leader’s hibernation by some brave townsfolk, but even they know not to disturb her during this period.
Unfortunately, League challengers braving the elements don’t get this memo...so here Clair stands, begrudgingly wearing her Gym attire. She shivers--it’s too cold--and squints into the chilly sunlight--it’s too bright--and gods, she just wants to disappear back into the Den’s depths again.
For this battle, Clair is using her strongest team, League rules be damned. She can sort issues out with Lance later, and if the challenger complains...they can cry about it. She doesn’t care.
If people know anything about Clair, it’s these two things: she hates losing, and she hates wasting time. With her most fearsome dragons ready to crush some unsuspecting trainer into the dirt, it’s clear that those personal standards haven’t changed one bit.
Sitting on the ledge by the cave's entrance, you were simply enjoying the sunlight and pleasant spring breeze, content to enjoy this while your overly large lizard of a partner napped behind you. Being a dragon's lover was hard some days, dragging the scaly grump out of his hoard to eat or enduring winter sunning even as the wind bites at your ears, but the good out weighted the bad too much to bother you now.
However what bothered you nowadays, was how picky your big lizard was.
You'd tried everything you can think of as a scent for your soaps and washes, but none of them have been good enough for your dragon. Last night, you had tried something more soft, snagging a bottle of something that smelled like honey, so far you haven't been grumbled at or shoved by a scaly maw back towards the bathing pool, so maybe this one is satisfactory.
Humming to yourself, you miss when the shadow of your large lover moves behind you, the tip of his maw pressing against your back and sniffing softly for a moment before you are assaulted with many small, short rapid sniffs.
You can't help but laugh before squealing when you're grabbed with gentle teeth, being pulled back into the den and snuffled, sniffed and purred at.
The usually soft eyes of your dragon are big and round, small curls of smoke leave their nose as they huff more of your scent. Rumbling like a large pleased cat, before tucking you next to their head as they curl around you, speaking softly as they tell you this is the one. You smell sweet, like a sugar treat they had when they had been so much smaller, a perfect mix of you and honey.
Kissing their warm scales you promise to find some more, it's nice to not be told to wash off the scent you had tried for once.
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Being the sacrificial princess in the tower to the dragon of the valley is all well and good...
Now if only said dragon wouldn't stop trying to peak through the windows and burning curtains to try and watch you bathe.
Sinking into the bath you had overloaded with bubbles is as good as the first time you did it, thick foamy soap with pleasant scents mixed in creating a pretty barrier over the steamy water that keeps your dignity covered and safe. Something, you find you desperately need as the dragon keeping you here is currently peering down at you from outside the tower, curled around the edge to look precariously onto the bathing room.
A large, brilliant orange eye looks down on you for a few moments before you hear the stones rumble and shift, the dragon winding and shifting its way to the balcony attached to the bathroom. The very fact that there is a balcony in the bathroom is telling of the person that originally designed the tower and small castle you are in, sighing heavily as the dragons snout it pushed through the balcony and almost reaches the bath you're lounging in.
Flicking the water at the dragons nose often gets him to retreat, the hot water for you is almost freezing for him.
Once you're finally done with your bath you know exactly where you will find your scaly captor, pulling on the loose silk sleep clothes he had hoarded and then gifted to you before entering your bedroom. Laying across your pillows is a smaller version of the dragon keeping you here, the mighty lizard often likes to shrink himself to a more manageable size for the inner tower, scampering towards you as you head back towards your bed.
The moment you slip under the blankets, so is the small form of the dragon, wiggling his way to laying across your chest, the long graceful shape of his skull finding a perfect home against your sternum as he purrs contently. Mentally you count down till you know he will begin wiggling, squirming in a way he thinks you don't understand, but in truth you don't mind, it's almost flattering now, makes you feel excited in a way to know such a powerful creature wants you in a mating way.
But you'd prefer if he didn't soil the sleep clothes he gives you and sheets with his oh so secret humping...
Dragon cum stains deeply and easily, but apparently the scent lingers beyond human senses for quite some time.
For every stereotype of the money hoarding, gem stealing dragons whispered in the dark there are good honest ones living normal lives with normal ass hoards of river rocks or paintings...
But not your boss.
He is a money grubbing, capital hungry, a true venture capitalist, wrapped in finery that costs more than most castles in the surrounding areas, and likes to clink coins together as an idle entertainment. He's everything you should hate in the world, from the silver chains that drip from his horns, the thin strings of gold that clip glasses in place as he sits reading contracts, the amethyst tipped horn caps that sit glinting on the twin curling black points that peak from the cascade of deep blue, black hair so finely cared for it should be illegal to consider touching.
And yet here you are, standing by his side as the local Lord tries his best to earn a loan from your boss, the bann has already signed many contracts and agreements that you're pretty sure he doesn't even own his own lands let alone his title anymore. Still, your boss nods, hums and flicks his wrist, manicured claws catching the light and rings glinting as he agrees to the loan, you already know the interest is going to be absurd and will ruin the bann but the greedy noble had only done it to himself.
You watched the noble go, chipper and content about the deal he thinks he had struck, shaking your head before looking over at your boss.
He's smiling, eyes in that familiar low squint he always has behind his spectacles, pushing his chair back and tapping his lap in a way you know well enough. Walking over you settle yourself onto his lap, letting the large dragonic hybrid curl around you, tail swaying behind him as he hooks his chin over your shoulder and purrs about how foolish the nobles of this place are.
For all that you should hate your boss for he does keep the lands running, taxes are fair to the wage brackets of the people that aren't noble, streets are paved, and water flows as it should under his gold tipped fingers. So you can't really bring yourself to truly despise him, especially as you had agreed long ago to be his mate, long before he amassed his riches and treasures, back when you were going and he only really cared for you and the joy of youth.
You sigh as he asks what you think of the bann and his little deal, half ignoring the words as he slips his hands under the formal clothes that he makes you wear for business, the slits of his eyes growing wide as he undose the placard of your pants, absently nodding along as he gets to what he really wants to touch. Soft fingers drift across your stomach and feather light scrapes of talons follow soon after, you could call him every name under the sun right now and he wouldn't care.
Shaking your head you lean back into his chest, sighing softly as you let him do as he pleases, calling him the same name you always did when he got like this after a deal.
Worn out, almost overworked, but still trying his best for his daughter.
That's your neighbour, and maybe just maybe if the little matchmaker of a toddler gets her way, your new boyfriend?
For 6k followers and my longer work of the month Dragon DILF and his happy little girl are here! This is the drabble he's from.
You'd seen him plenty of times to know who he is, the single dad that lived across the hall from you.
A dragon hybrid with his little grey scaled daughter, he was soft and kind with her, carrying the little bundle of joy around the halls and bouncing her whenever she got fussy. You knew he was trying his best on his own and it definitely showed that he truly wanted what was best for his daughter as he worked from home to keep an eye on the little ginger hatchling, but ever since she had latched onto the sight of you holding hands with her dad, at her own babbling demands, you have learned so much more about him and his little family.
It's becoming an evening ritual for the past two months for you to find the little girl in her father's arms, slapping little scaled hands against your door after her dinner time, babbling and giggling as she reaches for your arm and snuggles into her dad's chest as you hold his hand.
This moment of quiet with his daughter seems to almost relax him as well, getting an uninterrupted moment of calm as he sits with you on your couch. He speaks softly as he thanks you for following his daughters whims, and indulging her to keep the peace, smiling tiredly at you as you brush off the thanks and tell him your happy to help, you much prefer the little girl happy and healthy than crying and warbling endlessly over such a small thing.
Slipping out of holding hands you grab him some water, coming back just in time for the little girl to open her eyes and sniffle at the sight of you not holding her father's hand. The almost wail stops the moment you return, nubby claws half dig into your shoulders as you take the little girl from him, playing softly with her and letting her dad drink in peace before the little dragon girl begins to flag hard into sleep. Carrying the little one back to their apartment, you're graced with the sight of a single dads home, toys strewn everywhere, bottles and kiddy bowls stacked in the sink, it's a mess but an expected mess.
Once the little girl is down with her night light and monitor on, you guide him to the couch and tell him to sit.
Shutting down the complaints and attempts to stop you from whatever your going to do, only when you grab the dinner he had neglected in favour of his daughter and shove it into his hands does he quiet down. As he eats you begin picking up the toys, putting plush with plush, squishy with others of its kind, and sweeping up the mess of blocks into a more manageable pile than scattered across all the carpet in the living room.
Coming back to stand in front of him, you have a good look over him and how wrecked he looks. Dark circles under his eyes, dull scales on his face, hands, and tail, skin ashy and slightly oily, dry lips, and topped with oily hair that was clearly making his horns shiny from the contact. Shaking your head to tell him to go shower, that you were going to give him a moment of peace and to wash up while you did the dishes and took some work off his plate. Giving him no room to fight back to pint at the bathroom and wait for the dragon hybrid to close the door before taking the monitor and heading into the kitchen, slipping on the pair of kitchen gloves you get to work cleaning up some of the bowls, plates, and plastic cups that needed attention.
He looks like a completely different hybrid but the time he is out of the shower, hair clean but still damp, horn balm applied, and dressed in something lacking stains from spit up or drool.
Sure his scales are still a little dull, and his eyes have the same dark circles, but he looks better nonetheless.
Together you turn off the lights and get his home ready for the night, handing him back the monitor and telling him you're happy to help so long as he is willing to let you. It almost looks like he's going to cry when you tell him that, but his shoulder sag and he smiles at you again before nodding, accepting that he needs some help now and again.
This would happen a few more times over the next month or so, staying later after his daughter had long since fallen asleep to make sure he was taking care of himself as well. Some of the copper shine had returned to his scales and he no longer had extreme dark circles under his eyes, they were still there just lighter, the kitchen was still a mess but not a bomb sight, and the toys have managed to remain mostly in their groups despite the little ginger girls efforts to fling blocks all over the floor. He also seems happier, smiling more and joining his little hatchling on her misadventures into slapping on your door, purring at her as she squeaks and tries to make the same noises as he does, it's cute.
It's endearing...
At this point you have a key to their apartment and are free to let yourself in during the day to take the little one off his hands for work meetings and calls, playing with her and getting her to start learning to mumble more word-like noises over grunts and warbled sounds.
One afternoon, as you sit bouncing her on your knees and playing a game of hopper, hopper rider do you actually think about doing this more, not just helping out but being here, being with the laughing little girl and her dad. Face heating as you realise you would actually really like that, jumping as the little hatchling crawls up your lap and curls against your chest, rubbing nubby little horns against you as she yawns and babbles her way into an early nap, gently scratching across her scalp as you lull her into a proper sleep, choosing to shift into laying down on the couch so that the both of you can be comfortable.
You think about it more and fluster yourself, missing the moment her dad pads into the living room, work glasses still on as he walks around the couch and finds his daughter napping on your chest. The sight of him appearing in your peripheral vision, makes you almost jolt, glaring as he laughs softly while apologising for spooking you, he reaches out and brushes some of his daughter's hair away from her face before looking at you.
The moment feels right as he asks if you wanted to stay longer, to maybe even have dinner with the two of them, it looks like hope in his eyes as he asks, and it feels like it too as you nod slowly and agree that you'd like that.
