#the dragoness of melini

[possamble]

farcille postcanon characterization warmup that got way out of hand. beware, here be spoilers, dragoncock, and bottoming as an extreme sport.

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Marcille has always loved Falin’s voice. Soft, high, airy and girlish—it was always as gentle as the rest of her, even in the midst of pitched combat. When things went to hell in a handbasket, it was always Falin’s whispery incantations that kept Marcille grounded as blood and monster guts sailed through the air. 

And that hasn’t changed. No amount of dragon could really change that, Marcille thinks. Yes, she she has moments when her voice becomes rough and ragged and guttural, mostly when she’s swinging her mace or her fists, or gritting her teeth through a monster claw stuck into her side. But maybe that urge to growl was always there, and she’s just finally able to voice it now. Marcille finds that she’s loud at times she would have been silent before—grunting with exertion when she would have grimaced quietly, singing some nonsense melody over a mundane task when she would have hummed it under her breath—and that’s a good thing.

But otherwise, nothing has changed. Falin’s voice is as delicate as ever, chiming in a lilting giggle behind a dainty gesture of her hand. Rustling like pages of well-loved books as she casts her protective wards, or ponders over how to cook a new monster, or murmurs right into Marcille’s ear while she…

Well. While she’s got Marcille bent over her own desk with her nightgown pooled at her ankles. Marcille’s not sure if it’s rude or considerate that she didn’t get a chance to dress herself before she had a girthy cock shoved up her cunt first thing in the morning. 

“Marcille,” Falin whispers, unfairly shaky as if she’s the one getting fucked within an inch of her life. She’s mouthing at Marcille’s neck, draped over her and pressing as close as possible in every way, gripping Marcille’s hands tight and keening like she’s found heaven between her legs. “Marcille, Marcille…” 

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that she gets to do that, that she gets to sound like that—with that sweet voice she’s always had, now making obscene little noises that are still whispery fine and almost ethereal coming from her mouth. These quiet, barely voiced sighs that puff against Marcille’s ear, the dulcet moans that thrum against her skin, and that demure little gasp when she thrusts a little harder and somehow finds even more space inside Marcille to bottom out in—

“Marcille…” she whimpers like she’s in pain, on the verge of tears, fingers tight between Marcille’s as they grip the edge of the rattling desk together. “You feel—so good, oh… You’re”—another moan buried just behind her ear—"so wet, so good…” 

It’s not like Marcille got the chance to be anything else right now, did she? Not when Falin fell upon her just as she was sorting through her documents, pressed against her back and already unfastening the clasps of her gown and slipping it off her shoulders. She was fully naked before she even got a playful good morning whispered into her ear—it’s a miracle she had the forethought to push her papers out of the way just before Falin had her wrapped around her finger in the most literal sense. 

Well. Fingers in the plural, really, since she always starts with two. Usually while pawing at Marcille’s tit with her other hand until her stupid knees give out and she ends up buckling over whatever surface is nearby—in this case, her desk, mercifully free of any uncapped inkwells at the moment. Now slathered with sweat that makes her tits slip and slide along the wooden varnish, of course, but otherwise non-disastrous. 

Hopefully her nightgown is catching most of the mess running down her thighs, or she’s going to have to make the most humiliating request to the castle staff about her carpets for the third time this month—

“Yes…!” Falin digs her heels in and fucks her even harder, taken with some kind of mindless momentum all of a sudden. “I love you,” she pants in that stupid—feathery, daisy-light tone that has no business being this sweet while she’s ravaging Marcille like this— “you’re perfect, you’re perfect—” 

Marcille’s going to die like this. This is how she’s going to go: Bleating like an animal with her cheek stuck to her desk with drool, eyes just permanently rolled back in her head, toes barely touching the floor as Falin keeps fucking her further onto the desk. She hasn’t said a single coherent word since her second orgasm however many minutes ago, just broken into an endless stream of guttural noises as her cunt slobbers and squelches around Falin’s cock almost as loudly as she’s wailing. 

“Marcille,” Falin keens, sounding like a bashful princess ravished to breathlessness—just something straight out of a high-minded erotica novel—all while hammering Marcille into the desk at a shallow, breakneck pace. “You feel—feel s–o good, you’re perfect, oh—oh, you’re perfect, you’re beautiful, I love you, I love you—” 

For the love of—fuck. Marcille can distantly hear herself scream, can feel the desk digging into her as she flails, her grasp on sanity getting thinner and thinner with each word that tumbles out of Falin’s mouth and shoots straight through her nerves. She’s—good god, she’s not usually this talkative. It’s almost always Marcille begging and blabbering about how much she wants Falin’s cock, how good it feels, how she wants it harder and faster and more, screaming and crying Falin’s name over and over—

But now, in the absence of Marcille’s pathetic yapping—after she’s already fucked the words out of Marcille so thoroughly—Falin’s taken it upon herself to murmur a stream of honeyed nonsense into her ear, her frail and gentle voice breaking with desperation—and fuck, it’s not fair.

“Yes, yes, oh—” Falin sobs into her neck. “I love it—I love it when you sound like this, I love you—you’re so good, so good for me, my Marcille—” 

No, no, no, she can’t do that, she can’t do that—she can’t say that, in that voice, while her cock is so deep in Marcille there’s hardly room for anything else, battering all her nerve endings and rearranging her so that there’s nothing left but her, Falin, Falin—

“Ah!” Falin cries out, like she’s the one getting reamed against her stupid fucking desk so hard she can barely breathe— “Yes, please, please—please say my name again!” 

Well. She can beg all she fucking wants, but it’s not going to be pretty and she has no one to blame but herself—it’s her fault Marcille can hardly speak, it’s her fault her name is only coming in rough wails with both syllables separated with heaving, crying breaths. Marcille gives it her all, scrapes whatever intelligence she has left to speak, and sounds like a dying animal in a way that can’t possibly be anything but hideous to listen to—

And still, Falin sobs, as if in utter ecstasy as she fucks Marcille so hard the desk starts scraping along the floor in harsh jumps. 

“Yes, yes—ah—” Her voice, not so whispery gentle now but still so melodious and clear, sounding out from deep in her chest— “I—love—you—” she weeps, punctuated by the hard slams of the desk against the floor as she drops the rapid pace in favor of mercilessly hard thrusts— “Beautiful—perfect—mine!” 

Then she finally, finally comes—not that it stops her, not with how she thrusts with every spurt. Like she’s not just satisfied with letting it spill out, like she needs to fuck it into Marcille with all her strength, once, twice, then one last time, stuffing her cunt absolutely full with searing heat—

And Marcille doesn’t even realize she’s coming until she’s unceremoniously ejected out the other side of the high, that telltale swoop of vertigo rushing through her veins. The orgasm doesn't even have the grace to let her go limp with afterglow, of course, and she’s left there convulsing and twitching like a drowning fish. With her jaw pressed to the desk, she can actually hear her teeth chatter from how hard she’s shaking, Falin’s warm weight on her be damned. 

(One day. One day, she’ll stop embarrassing herself like this—one day she’ll finish like a normal person during sex, instead of going off like a cheap firework every half hour and wringing an orgasm out of herself as soon as she feels Falin finish inside her, whether or not she even had one left in her to begin with.) 

“M-Marcille,” Falin stammers, her voice breathless but now shy and girlish again as she slowly untangles their hands. “Are you—are you okay?” 

The gall. To ask her that, when she’s nothing but a sweaty carcass slung over her desk, still twitching erratically. To be so gentle as she straightens up and kisses the back of her neck, tenderly brushing her hair to the side as she pulls out ever so slowly—

And still. Not. Slowly. Enough—apparently! Not with the sparks that explode in Marcille’s eyes again, utterly unclear if this is another orgasm or just a particularly brutal aftershock! She just goes squeaking and shaking and sliding off the desk onto her knees, hands clapped over her cunt like they’re going to protect her from the lightning racing up and down her spine. She doesn’t even know where she landed, really, convulsing and closing her thighs around her hand as cum and slick drools into her palms, falling forward and— and smacking her head against the edge of her desk.

“Oh!” Feathered arms clasp around her before she can slide past the wood with her sweaty forehead and land on her face. “Careful—are you okay?” 

The gall. The audacity. The—something, or whatever, fuck, Marcille doesn’t even care anymore. Her head throbs with an oncoming bruise, she can’t feel her legs, she can feel her pussy way too much, and it’s a wonder she hasn’t fallen apart on the spot—

“Okay… let’s…” There’s some maneuvering going on, but hell if Marcille can actually tell what Falin’s doing. “Here, let’s take a bath—I’ll go draw some water.” 

Marcille whines, because no—she doesn’t know where she is, she just twists until her face finds feathers and buries herself there. She even manages to bring one cum-covered hand to grip at the quils, because this mess is Falin’s fault and if she doesn't like it then she can wash it off herself—but she’s not allowed to leave. 

A little chuckle under her breath—and it’s so fucking cute and girlish like she hasn’t just demolished a full grown woman to the brink of unconsciousness, but Marcille can’t even find it in herself to be mad. Falin can ask her whatever the hell she wants, do whatever the hell she wants, so long as she doesn’t let go. 

“I’m bringing you with me, I promise,” Falin whispers so tenderly, pressing a kiss to Marcille’s head. There’s arms tightening around her back and under her knees, and she feels herself being lifted. “I wouldn’t leave you like that…” 

Better not, Marcille grumbles to herself. Not sure if it made it past her mouth, but it doesn’t matter. Falin’s going to take responsibility for turning her morning into—into this, even if it means having to draw some bathwater with an elf clinging to her the entire time. She’s going to be the one to wash her off, bring her their missed breakfast, and tell everyone why she wasn’t there at the morning meeting—

Maybe not that last part. 

“I’m sorry,” she hears, in that soft and whispery tone she’s loved for so many years. That voice that didn’t change, even with everything that happened—everything that Marcille did to her, and it’s—

It would be so, incredibly stupid if she started crying out of nowhere. 

“Liar,” she whines, digging the indignant annoyance back up to pout like a spoiled brat. “You liked… every second…” 

Another giggle that so infuriatingly lovely. “I did.” The sound of a squeaky valve turning, then rushing water that slaps against stone. “Did you?” 

Marcille just grumbles again and clings even tighter. Falin just laughs a little louder and strokes her hair, too kind to demand an answer in so many words—or, perhaps, impishly content to let Marcille incriminate herself with her silence, as she so often does.

[ao3feed-farcille]

by wtfoctagon

How strange. One half of her wants to be loved with all-encompassing ferocity, to claim and be claimed and jealously guarded like a beloved treasure. The other half wants to be loved as an individual first and foremost, to have someone proudly champion her happiness and freedom above all. Most days, Falin can’t actually tell which is the vainglorious monster and which is the lonely human, which she should honor and which she needs to bury — but with Marcille, it doesn’t even matter. Because Marcille, wonderful Marcille — she satisfies both so fully and readily without ever being asked. Without ever knowing what an impossible thing she’s done, as always.

Words: 11107, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: ダンジョン飯 | Dungeon Meshi | Delicious in Dungeon

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Relationships: Marcille Donato/Falin Touden

Additional Tags: dragon cock, Dragons Are Territorial, Cunnilingus, Minor Scent kink, Intercrural Sex, Come Marking, Biting, Marking, Creampie, Post-Canon, A few years after canon where Marcille and Falin have worked out their issues, and are in a healthy stable relationship, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Established Relationship, there's really nothing to this, falin comes from from a trip. crawls through marcille's window. pounces on her., pillow princess marcille, i DONT want to tag this cockslut marcille but like..., she's an overachiever and a tryhard. let's just leave it at that, Falin POV, she's down BAD bro

[jkl-fff]

Laois, King of Melini. His Omnivorous and Golden Majesty.

Falin, sister of the King and Dragoness of Melini. Her Draconic Grace.

Marcille, sister-in-law of the King and Court Magician, as well as member of the Golden Council. Her Awesomness.

Senshi and Chilchuck, bros of the King and respectively Royal Chef and Keeper of the Royal Drink Cellars, as well as members of the Golden Council. His Awsomeness.

Kabru, Prince Consort and Prime Minister of Melini. His Scheming Sexiness (though only Laios gets away using that honorific--most people just use "Your Excellency").

Yaado, member of the Golden Council. His Tiredness (because he feels too damn old to be dealing with these gays and their silliness).

Izutsumi, the Izutsumi of Melini. Her Izutsuminess.

lets hear it for the lesbians woo

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Willing to share some links to these fanarts by any chance?

haha. you fell for my trap. i was not-so-subtly trying to bait someone into asking so i could share :) however i realized the full list is too long so here's just the stuff from twitter that went into dragoness

frisky farcille, esshemarsha

full frontal dragon cock, bimbostratus

marcille double creampie, powipussywanko

literally just the last half of dragoness, horntytoad

the one that started everything and made me want to write dragoness, sun_nashi

perfect marcille expressions, butchluvr

this one i just love bc it's kind of hard to find porn with tan marcille, NRNK99

backshots. self-explanatory, sorararaion

the first falin dragoncock i saw, BangDacy (Kaban)

distilled essence of pillow princess marcille, Ninan_nnn

... and this, to be honest

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Tbh I haven't decided when red dragon mating season would be but it would be so funny if they had slightly bird-like instincts. Falin suddenly starts dressing REALLY nice and shadowing Marcille everywhere. Just possessively being really hot while glued to Marcille's side. And then Marcille has to have early dinner and go to her room right after for like a week bc Falin needs to have her to herself for at least 6pm-11pm every night if not more

AHA nah Falin would have to be wishing harder than just thinking of it for like half a second before nutting. Also, they wouldn't go through with the first accidental pregnancy, it's waaaayy too early in their relationship and they do wanna plan it out more

Hey this is so funny. Like I think the staff who took her luggage at the gate would let everyone know but like. What if they went to the laundresses first as a heads up LMFAO

Oh she's definitely a good sport about getting teased/laughed at by the castle staff bc they're the ones who have to deal with her but like. Sometimes she'll be watching Marcille talk to other politicians or mages so seriously while she's covered in hickies under her dress and be like "that's my girl. they don't get to know her like I do" (amplified when one of the other Serious People is like obviously simping for Marcille and trying to flirt with her)

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yes!!! getting good grade in farcille!!!

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the first thing in my mind after i finished reading the dragoness oneshot is the two of them showing up at breakfast the next day, and everyone there just looks at marcille (who surprisingly took a day off without prior notice) wearing high collared dress and falin who's supposed to come back a week later, and thought to themselves "ah, they were fucking all day long, weren't they"

bold of you to assume they're showing up at breakfast... marcille's sleeping in because they bathed. had dinner. asked for pastries to be brought along with the roomservice. and then falin fucked her again until 3am with intermittent snack breaks.

they have brunch with roomservice again and falin keeps her kidnapped until the evening when marcille actually has a really important meeting with a visiting professor to get ready for

[possamble]

tried to compile a playlist for dragoness as a joke and realized that i like. know maybe 3 horny songs that aren't about masturbation or or breakups or being pissed at your partner for not stepping up. and all of them are crj sdlkfjvnsdf

[possamble]

post dragoness, the laundry maids in the castle are sooooo pissed. what’s all this, they say, staring at the sheets. really now. was that necessary.

yes, says falin

LMAO it's okay the staff have unions and the laundresses get paid extra for Badly Soiled Items. falin doesn't feel bad about it at all because she just tells herself she's giving someone a really nice payday SDFVSDF

[possamble]

I know we don't get much of Marcille's pov in "A little creature who loves you" but what we've been able to glean from her expression of anger at Falin in the fifth chapter and the (surprisingly but extremely welcome as it made the smut hit the spot even more) deep dive into what feeds Marcille's behaviour in "The Dragoness of Melini", you've written Marcille's self-centeredness and narcissism in an extremely poignant way. You really get the feeling that she *does* want to do good and make the world better but overcorrects by trying to control those around her, which people like Namari interpret as purely wrong. I'm a trans girl with NPD (same as the anon recommending Bellwether's zine) and I fucking love what you're doing with Marcille on that front (and many other fronts).

THANK YOU for understanding what I'm trying to do with Marcille fjsjkdkf so many people try to reduce her to her control issues or file them off altogether but. I just. Even when people are able to acknowledge her multitudes I've always wanted to take it a step further where her wish to do good and be good isn't opposed to her fussy neurotic narcissism, but but enmeshed together as one core and unique part of her personality. She loves being deferred to and respected as an authority because it makes her feel important AND because it enables her to help and be useful to other people. Her desire to help people is fueled by a desire to feel important and respected and her desire to feel powerful and important is motivated by her desire to help people and it's not a black and white good or bad thing that can be separated.

Sorry this is jdkdkf turning into another Marcille rant but. My blorbo. I wish more people could see how, despite a lot of emotional hypocrisy in interpersonal relationships (via her inability to understand other perspectives), she holds herself to the same high standards she imposes on others. She is a control freak about herself first and foremost. You never see her more despondent than the times she has failed to meet her own expectations, and furthermore, caused trouble for other people because of it.

In some ways, she's a pathetic little wet cat with the backbone of a drippy eclair. In others, she's a fucking iron fist that will not tolerate failure or weakness in herself. Sometimes she gets a little too smug and peacocks around in her own accomplishments while fishing for more praise. Others, she thinks that doing an insane amount of work in service of other people is the bare fucking minimum that she expects no praise for while berating herself when she can't meet her own requirements. She has the pathetic ridiculousness of a constantly-distressed diva and the fiery dignity of a dragon AND the vulnerability of a terribly lonely girl and just.

She's terrible and projects her own expectations on other people far too often. She's wonderful and at heart just wants to help people. She's neither and just wants to feel a little less lost and a little more loved in a very big world. She's horrid AND fully capable of growing past it in ways not everyone acknowledges so I'm just happy my vision for her resonates with other people djsjdjf

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#wip - all my wip excerpts I've posted so far #marcilleposting - all my thoughts and some meta on marcille #junoposting - all my thoughts, some meta, and all fic having to do with marcille's mom #a little creature - updates, wips, progress updates, and everything else to do with "A Little Creature Who Loves You" #the dragoness of melini - everything to do with "The Dragoness of Melini"

[possamble]

Thank you for your fic! I will be rereading dragoness of melini to cope now 🥰

Oh that's actually a great idea since dragoness is supposed to be the far-off followup/part of the same continuity but also more importantly did it hurt. Did it hurt as deliciously as advertised.