#ignia

sons of Igneel (Au)

💕Instagram Sketch Requests💕

Hello everyone! I am back from my 3 month hiatus 👋🏻 supposedly 2 months, but things happen. There are some sketch req that I didn't do because some req the same thing in redraw req so I'll do the redraw one instead, okay? Doing these sketches has been fun and has been helping me fill in my sketch books with smth. I'm glad y'all love it and thank you for the requests🥰

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So now that I'm back I can basically try and get back on track again and slowly be active again. Gosh, I've been gone for so long that my style changes...again. Or maybe not so, depends on you. Is there any changes.

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Natsu's heads low I think we know why on what happen last time the dragon king festival came

Genuinely what are the odds

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You walk up to him while he’s training with the other dragon gods, including Doromag, his best friend and a close friend of yours as well. Mercphobia, the water dragon god, Selene the moon dragon god, Aldoron the wood dragon god, Viernes the gold dragon god although you only know Doromag.

The pretty red sundress Ignia bought you flows around you like a flickering flame as you’re mindful of his heat, but when Doromag makes Ignia aware of your presence his flames slowly curl around you—warm but not overwhelming as it lifts you off your feet and brings you to him.

You carry a homemade lunch you made for him, the bento box filled with A-5 Wagyu—six in total. Three of them are cooked to medium rare and the other three are raw—just how he loves it. You also added a few jalapeño and habanero peppers wrapped in bacon and filled with cream cheese since you know he absolutely adores eating them ever since the first time you made them for him; and lastly you made some spicy fried chicken, a dish Ignia has begged you to make ever since the first time you made it for him—it’s his absolute favorite dish. You even included some in Doromag’s bento as well.

You hold two canteens filled with their favorite ale—Vonia ale. It’s very expensive and extremely hard to find. You make a separate bento for Doromag as you always had whenever he trained with Ignia—his bento is also very personalized to his earthy taste with Sumerian spice grilled fish, Harra meat stew, and spiced lamb pilaf.

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The battlefield crackles with energy as the Dragon Gods clash, their powers colliding in a spectacle of fire, water, shadows, and gold. Even from afar, you can feel the sheer weight of their presence—each one a force beyond mortal comprehension. But your focus isn’t on them.

It’s on him.

Ignia stands in the center of it all, flames roaring around him as he fights against Doromag. His movements are fierce, relentless, untamed—but still, undeniably graceful, like a wildfire dancing through the wind. Even with sweat glistening on his skin, his golden eyes are sharp, locked onto his opponent with an unwavering, predatory intensity.

But the moment Doromag notices you, the entire battlefield shifts.

“Oi, Ignia—look who’s here.”

At first, Ignia doesn’t react. He keeps his stance firm, his body taut with battle-ready tension. But then—

His flames flicker. Shift.

And then, before you can take another step, his fire—his very essence—reaches for you.

The flames curl around you, warm but never burning, never overwhelming. They lift you off the ground, wrapping you in a cocoon of heat and power, drawing you toward him as if the very fire itself recognizes you as his.

The moment you’re within reach, Ignia’s arm is around your waist, pulling you against him. His body is scorching, his pulse wild, but it’s not from the fight anymore—it’s from you.

“Tch. Took you long enough, woman.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it—only fondness.

“I swear, if that’s your way of saying ‘thank you,’ I might just give this food to Doromag instead—”

A growl rumbles deep in Ignia’s chest, and before you can blink, his grip tightens. His tail flicks behind him, golden eyes narrowing as he glares at his best friend.

“Touch my food, and I’ll burn your damn hands off.”

Doromag just laughs, shaking his head as he crosses his arms.

“Relax, flame-brain. I’ve got my own, yeah?” He glances at the bento in your hands, and the moment he catches the scent of the spiced lamb pilaf, Harra meat stew, and Sumerian spice-grilled fish, his smirk widens. “Hah, you always know how to treat a guy right. Maybe I should steal you from Ignia—”

Doromag doesn’t even finish the sentence before Ignia’s flames surge up in warning.

“Try it and see what happens, bastard.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you press the bento box into Ignia’s chest. He takes it with one hand, his other arm still curled protectively around your waist.

The second he opens it, his expression shifts.

A5 Wagyu—six pieces, three cooked medium-rare, three raw. Bacon-wrapped jalapeño and habanero peppers filled with cream cheese. Spicy fried chicken, his absolute favorite.

And Vonia ale. The most expensive, hardest-to-find ale in existence.

For a moment, he just stares at it.

Then—

“Hah.” His fangs flash as he grins, a low, satisfied chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest. His tail flicks behind him, pleased. “You really do love me, huh?”

Your face heats up, but before you can respond, he pulls you closer. His head dips down, lips brushing against your ear, his breath scorching against your skin.

“You spoil me too much, you know that?”

Your heart pounds, but you manage to huff, turning your head to meet his gaze.

“You say that like you don’t love it.”

His grin widens, and instead of answering, he pops a raw Wagyu slice into his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as he savors the flavor.

You don’t miss the way his flames burn hotter around you—not in anger, but in satisfaction.

Doromag, already halfway through his own meal, snorts.

“Hah! Look at this guy, acting all high and mighty when he’s just a spoiled bastard with a mate who feeds him like a damn king.”

Ignia doesn’t even bother responding to him.

His focus is on you.

And as he takes another bite, his tail coils around your ankle, his flames lingering against your skin, his eyes gleaming with something raw, possessive, utterly unshakable.

Even with the other Dragon Gods watching, even with the battlefield still echoing with the remnants of their fight—

It’s clear.

You are his.