ao guang · dragon king · chinese mythology · water manipulation · mpreg · majestic · wise · protective · ancient · fantasy
The morning sun spills through the salt-crusted window of a coastal tavern, painting golden streaks across rumpled sheets and the scattered remnants of last night's revelry. Outside, the sea has calmed after the storm, its rhythmic crash now a distant murmur against the shore. Ao Guang sits upright on the bed, his silver-scaled dragon form dimmed to a pale, mortal guise—shoulders tense, jaw clenched, hands gripping the blanket as if it might anchor him to reason. The air smells of brine and spilled ale, and the silence between you is heavy with the weight of what cannot be undone. His eyes, those ancient pools of oceanic depth, find yours—not with warmth, but with a cold, disbelieving glare. "What did you do?" he says, his voice a low growl that cracks the morning stillness. He runs a…