rocky fix!

stella * 18 * she

[iinterstellaarr]

that’s not our sun?

★ hey! my names stella or star for short ★

★ i’m 18 and like to write about anything★

★grace rocky save stars★

★fist my bump!★

★i’m not an astronaut★

ask box is: OPEN

[iinterstellaarr]

JJK MEN REACT TOO : “we need to hide a body”

FEATURING : satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, ryomen sukuna, hiromi higuruma, toji fushiguro and choso kamo.

[enchanthings]

◦˚~ ANIMATED MOON & STARS DIVIDERS ~˚◦

Requested by: @inkyprince Info: these were all drawn/made & animated by me. please reblog/like if use!

[iinterstellaarr]

superhero!itadori x suit designer!reader (we’re kinda a bitch in this just fyi)

“ooohhh, wow.” your voice was laced with a faux hint of intrigue in it, although your face was flat and disinterested. “are you a superhero?”

designs and half finished sketches were strewn across your workspace, small notes and patches of fabric laying on sketches while others had been discarded into a nearby bin. you had been the most world renowned designer for hero costumes since your father had unfortunately passed away and left the company to you. heros from all over the country would come to your over the top mansion on some secluded mountain just to get a consultation for a suit, and even then, you were incredibly picky on who you actually designed for.

the bright eyed kid that stood proud in front of you, seeming to not understand your sarcasm only made the migraine you had pound harder in your head.

“that’s soooo cool,” you hum, turning to fully face him now with his badly made resume in hand. “is that your power, you’re like, “tell people obvious shit guy?” you tossed his resume on the floor, the paper fluttering with a dramatic swoosh in the air.

his brown eyes follow it, watching as it lands on top of his work boots that had done him well this far. but he knew he needed something more durable, something that could withstand the test of time, something you could make.

“i know im the best suit designer.” you spin around in your chair, pulling your legs back up to rest softly against the desk, “which is why i’d never make a suit for someone like you.”

you’ve seen his type before. always told his subpar superpower was special and that one day he’d save so many people, only to rush through your door and request a very expensive suit and then ask for a refund three months later once they decided maybe being a superhero wasn’t all it cracked up to be.

you’re not waisting your time again.

“i’ll come back later, then!” he picks up his resume, his expression absent of any doubt or hurt from your words, as if you’d never said them at all. he turns away, jogging back through the large wooden doors that lead to your studio, and you watched through your security cameras that panned through your house and showed itadori walking away like he had just stopped by to ask how you’re doing.

you hated him, that much was certain.

but he was back at your door just a month later.

“visitor at the entrance!” your alarm system chirped out calmly, pulling up the security feed automatically while your eyes lazily glanced up at it.

pink hair bounced slightly as he rocked back and forth on his feet, waiting for you to answer the door and let him in.

“computer, don’t let him in. and close the feed.” you hummed absent mindedly, continuing to drag your pencil across the pad of paper, design after design being rejected from your own perfection.

the computer hummed, shutting down.

“visitor at the entrance!” the system chirped again, and again… and again.

he was spam pressing your doorbell.

“computer!” the voice stopped mid sentence, awaiting your response. “fuck! …just let him in.” you sighed, stepping over to the racks and racks of reinforced thread and metal sheets that made up 80% of your designs.

“yo!” his head popped in, watching in awe as you waved your hands around and the thread seemed to bend to your will, pulling off the spool with careful caution, and scissors floating over to snip it at the desired length.

“what do you want?” you grumble, watching as the thread twisted and stitched into a bright pink satin fabric, coming together in mere minutes.

he fully stepped inside your studio now, but lingered near the door, giving you space to work, “i just wanted to see if you’d thought about my proposal?” he grinned, leaning against the cool metal wall behind him.

“i have.” you sighed, not looking back at his boyish grin. “and i’m not designing a suit for you.”

“you don’t have to design it!” he beams proudly, presenting a small sketchbook from the bag half hazardly slung over his shoulder.

you take a small peak inside, eyes grazing over the off white parchment with a few mock designs on them. they’d be easy enough to make, a bit of reinforced fabric and a bit of bulletproof casing would make it simple enough.

but you’re stuck in your ways.

“no.” you turn back to the thread floating in the air, watching as it hypnotically stitches through the pink fabric.

“why not?” his entire demeanor slumps down, shoulders falling as the previous burst of energy had seemed to be extinguished.

“i don’t make suits for wannabe heros.” you pull your glasses down, letting them rest on the tip of your nose as you assess itadori.

he had spunk, that much was obvious. he seemed like the type to try out heroing for a few months, but once the goings get hard, he’d bail ship with as much enthusiasm as he had for getting his suit made in the first place.

“i’m not a wannabe.” he hums slightly, a small pout resting on his lips as he goes to lean back against the wall of your studio.

“you’re nothing special, though.” you didn’t want to crush this bright young hero’s dreams, but you knew better than anyone that it was easier to nip the bud before it could begin blooming. “and i doubt you have enough money to pay for a suit designed by me.”

he seems to pause at that, considering the savings he has in his bank. judging by his face, you could tell he hadn’t even thought about that part.

“if i come back with enough money, will you make a suit for me?” his enthusiasm is back, full force. ideas in his head are swimming with many different side hustles he could do to rake up enough cash.

“oh yes. that will absolutely make me want to create a suit for you.” you’ve been saying no to this kid ever since he came in here, why can’t he just take it at face value?

“okay!” he hums, stepping out before you could clarify your obvious sarcasm.

this is starting to get annoying.

you don’t expect to see him again so soon.

this time, when the doorbell rings over and over and over again, your sitting blissfully in your living room, a lavish sofa supporting your weight as you finally find a moment of peace underneath the orders you have that are booked out months in advance.

“computer, let him in.” you sigh, not needing to look up to know who it is.

the large, mechanical doors hiss open, allowing itadori to step inside.

“you’re bleeding on imported marble.” you glare at him from over your mug, steam curling your vision of him. he was dirty, mud caked on the hem of his pants and blood spilling from his lip where he had possibly been cut.

“oops!” he wipes his lip with the back of his sleeve, the hoodie fraying around the seams with wear and tear.

you don’t make a move to stand up, instead enjoying the sight of him standing awkwardly in your entrance, waiting for permission to step fully inside your house.

“i don’t bite.” you sigh, gesturing over to one of the couches and allowing him to sit.

i’m gonna need to have that professionally cleaned once he leaves.

“so, i made the money!” his voice makes you choke a bit on your coffee. did he actually? these suits are easily $10,000 without customization. if you had to guess, a suit that he’d want would run him upwards of $25,000. how can he be so confident that he had that sort of money?

“do you?” you stand, walking over the cool floors towards the bar that was built into a wall, and placing the ceramic cup into the small sink.

“$50,000!” you wanted to tear one of those very expensive and very useless paintings your father loved so much off the wall. he actually made that much money? in such a short amount of time?

“it’s not blood money!” he throws his hands up, seeming to catch the way you were looking at him as if he were some trained assassin.

you didn’t say anything, could hardly blink as you reassessed yuji itadori.

so, he has drive as well. if he could bust his ass to make that much money then he clearly has some form of determination.

but you were still cautious.

and this blissful caution is what caused this back and forth to go on for 3 months.

itadori would come back with whatever useless request or command you’d have, with the promise of a suit close in the horizon to encourage him.

“come back when you’ve stopped three major crimes without back up.”

he’d come into your studio, knuckles bruised but with his cracked phone holding up a news report of some rookie hero successfully completing your task.

“get a public rating approval above 70%”

he’d come in with a smile and a rating boasting at 95%.

every task you asked, he’d conquer with a grin on his face.

“fine.” the words taste bitter on your tongue, you were finally giving up because this kid was just to damn persistent.

“wait really?” he stood up fully from where he was sitting (much to your dismay) on your wooden desk.

“don’t make me regret it.” for a moment, you’re both standing in the middle of the room, staring at each other like a pact that had been waiting for both of you had just been sealed.

“..so how does this work?” he laughs slightly, realizing that in all the time he spent working to this very moment, he never really bothered to find out how you get a custom suit made in the first place.

“i’ll keep your sketchbook with me. you already have a final design made, yes?” you pull the sturdy leather bound book from his backpack, watching as his hands flail for just a moment of the sight of you holding the book.

“yeah! let me just..” he grabs the book from your hands, holding it close to his face while he finds the exact page his final design was on.

you eye him suspiciously for a moment before retrieving the book back from his possession.

“and this is it? no special modifications or anything that i’ll need to export?” you gaze down at the drawing, seeing the simple black and red details that tastefully match the overall shape of the suit.

“yep!” he hums, scratching the back of his head nervously.

“then measurements are in order.” you press a few buttons on your keyboard and itadori watches as a small podium rises from the ground, only standing a few inches, a couple of mirrors descend from the ceiling and a large, overhead light shines brightly on the entire setup.

you turn around, watching as itadori seems to gawk at the entire thing.

“well? you wanted this suit made.” you nod your head over to the podium, suppressing a laugh as he scampers his way over to the podium and stands proud on top of it.

you circle him for a moment, flicking your wrist and sending a small yellow tape measure flying into the air and stopping just before it could hit itadori.

“take of your jacket.” you hum, watching as the tape measure pulls out with a few satisfying clicks.

“oh! yeah, sounds… good.” itadori pulls at the zipper of his hoodie, pulling off the fabric and exposing his skin to the cool air.

oh, that’s not what you were expecting.

you’ve measured some of the most popular hero’s in the world, you seen the broad expanse of muscles on backs, biceps that would put body builders to shame, and that cocky smirk most of them would adorn. none of that ever flustered you.

but itadori was different, he had his arms crossed over his chest, and you noticed as he hunched slightly at your gaze. he was nervous, and that was something you’d never seen before.

“move your arms.” you tilt your head, watching as he extends his arms to hold in the air. you flick a few fingers, watching as the tape measure wraps around the expanse of his chest.

you don’t touch him,

you didn’t really need too.

but you can feel the warmth from his body from where your staring down at the measurement.

he’s tense, you can hear his heartbeat.

and, annoyingly, you can hear his thoughts if you focus too hard. telekinesis and telepathy are useful when it comes to working with heros. you can read more about them, understanding if they’re coming to you to get a quality suit or to just boast that they had a half a million dollar suit made for them.

itadoris thoughts were always tightly guarded, you could never get close enough to see what he was actually thinking.

you measure his shoulders next. the tape brushes gently along his collarbone and his breath catches.

you pretend not to notice.

“relax,” you mutter. “you’ve caught collapsing buildings. this shouldn’t intimidate you.”

“i’m not intimidated,” he says quickly.

the tape slides lower to measure his waist, his adam apple bombs as he swallows gently. you raise an eyebrow.

“then what?”

there’s a pause. a very dangerous pause.

and before he can think better of it, he blurts, “you’re just really pretty up close.”

now, you’ve had a fair share of hero’s flirt with you in the past. purposely flexing while getting their measurements done, complimenting your home and the decorating your father had done, letting some shitty pick up lines fall from their mouths like that would cause you to flop over and submit to anything they wanted.

you look up at him slowly, noticing the small flush that was crawling up his neck and settling on his ears.

“i mean! not that you don’t- you also look pretty from far away!” he stutters, looking around the room as to avoid the dead stare in your eyes as you were looking up at him.

your hand twitches involuntarily, and the tape measure tightens around his waist sharply. he inhales sharply, the redness still prominent on his cheeks.

“hold still.” you snap, a bit sharper than you intended. you could hear the soft drone of his thoughts, something that you never could do previously.

“why did i say that? she’s so totally gonna kick me out. i’m SO stupid bro, she smells really good.. STOP THINKING THAT.”

yeah that’ll be enough of reading itadoris mind.

the room was almost dead silent, the soft hum of your air conditioning floating through the air, breaking up the tension that had accidentally been made.

you step closer than necessary, moving the tape measure manually in order to get the measurement exact. his skin was hot underneath your fingertips, warmer than you would’ve expected.

the studio feels smaller now, the bright lights shining aggressively, and his small, almost undetectable smile makes you want to shut everything down and demand that he never comes back.

but you don’t.

“okay.” your voice is softer than it previously had been, gentle in a way that made you angry. “i want you to come back in a month after you get your suit. i want to make sure everything works properly.” you take a few steps back, watching as itadori pulls on the hoodie that he had discarded on the floor.

“i can’t come back sooner?” he just likes danger, doesn’t he?

“you’ll have too, in order to pick up the suit, of course.” you hum, glancing over his sketches and already feeling the gears turning in your head. you tense as itadori leans against the table next to you.

“when will that be?” he looks disinterested, but his thoughts say otherwise.

“so what if i want to see her again? i’m just interested in the suit. maybe. probably not.”

you look away from him, cutting off the connection between your brain and his thoughts.

“soon. i’ll let you know.”

“how?”

you grab his phone from where he had discarded it on the table, swiping through with a fever and adding your contact information quickly before shoving the phone back in his hand.

“that’s how.” this isn’t a good idea, if itadori has your number then he’ll be able to annoy you indefinitely.

but maybe that’s what you want.

“i’ll come back next week,” he says, grin plastered on his face

you nod. but at the threshold of your studio, he pauses.

“…i’m glad it’s you,” he adds quietly.

and then he’s gone.

you stand there for a long time, staring at nothing. you’re not afraid he’ll quit anymore. you’re afraid of something else entirely.

and somewhere down the mountain path, jogging away with a racing heart, itadori is realizing the same thing

some point during this whole tedious process, he realized he didn’t just want the suit anymore.

he wanted you.

[iinterstellaarr]

what music does the jjk cast listen too? here’s what i think!

yuji itadori

- i feel like it really depends on his mood

- brent faiyaz, asap rocky, daniel ceaser

- when he’s working out he’s gonna listen to some corny shit like imagine dragons

- really just enjoys most types of music and wouldn’t discriminate on what you listen too

- willing to listen to any song at least once

megumi fushiguro

- i am such a firm believer that he loves the maria’s

- very soft music, stuff that’s calming

- indulges in some rock every once and while

- enjoys a lot of softer, calmer billie eilish

- mac demarco, the neighborhood, cigarettes after sex, frank oceans

- doesn’t branch out of his comfort zone often

- usually finds songs by accident

nobara kugisaki

- enjoys taylor swift but at a normal level

- fucks with some early y2k club songs

- thinking kesha, brittany spears, older ariana grande

- most of her taste is pop and indie music

- doesn’t enjoy loud rock music or anything stressful on the ears, even when she’s doing a hard task

satoru gojo

- doesn’t actually listen to music very often

- he loves songs from his highschool years

- loves the sweet escape and fergie

- just like yuji, puts on some lame bullshit when he’s working out

- think eye of the tiger

suguru geto

- he is such a loud music guy i can feel it in my bones

- his outside demeanor is so soft and you listen to his music and ur just in shock

- nine inch nails, slipknot, type o negative

- a lot of his music is also very sad

- would sit in his room with his headphones playing hurt by NIN at full volume

- dabbles in some soft rock

nanami kento

- a classical guy through and through

- type of guy to listen to song instrumentals

- if he is going to listen to actual music, it’s going to be something OLD

- frank sinatra, bee gees, elvis, etc

- he’s such an old man i love him

- collects CDs rather than using streaming services

choso kamo

- did not have a music taste until yuji

- got most of his knowledge from the radio or from whatever yuji was playing

- very interested in the idea of music, and why people feel like it’s so important

- enjoys some softer rock

- pink floyd, the eagles, a very small amount of oasis

- i think he would also enjoy some alt rock, thinking radiohead, nirvana, kings of leon

anyone else?

[iinterstellaarr]

I have been living and breathing Sonar for the past few days. Addiction? maybe

How do you think Sonar would interact with someone who’s also a hybird? maybe they’ve got wings or horns or both if something along the lines of that i think that’d be so cute

oh he’d be jumping for fucking joy!

i like the idea of you being a hybrid bird person. not cursed with only your face having bird attributes but with large wings that spanned much further than you could reach and sharp nails that seem to grow back overnight if you cut them.

your entire life you’d thought they your wings were annoying in any public space. school was a nightmare and going into any store had you profusely apologizing for knocking over a stack of cleanly folded clothes.

when you joined the phoenix program, you always kept your wings tightly closed. absolutely terrified you’d hit someone, or smack of stack of important paper work and send it flying across the office. your talons stayed close to your body, afraid you’d accidentally cut someone.

sonar was absolutely whipped the moment he saw you. gorgeous person with gorgeous wings and long ass nails that could tear up his back? and a hybrid? fuck yeah!

you two bonded well over your combined annoyance at wings, although you were slightly jealous that he didn’t have to deal with them all the time.

and of course i’m gonna be basic. your wings are sensitive, mostly at the base and where the bones covered in feathers connected. so, the first time sonar had met you, he grazed a hand over the bend in your folded wings, curiosity getting the better of him. although he should’ve thought harder because the second your wings came into contact with his hands, the extended fully, knocking sonar straight in the snout and causing his nose to bleed.

(you never stopped apologizing for that, he thought it was hot as fuck.)

sonar always wanted to spar with you, having the time of his life as he dodged and weaved around your wings and nails, practically high of the adrenaline when you’d chase him across the gym like you’d gone rabid.

whenever he’s having a particularly difficult time transforming back to his regular form after a mission, he’d ask you to rake through his fur with your nails, gently pulling and brushing through the tangled and knots. he always found it relaxing and he found it helped him calm down enough to go back to being good ole sonar.

it’s enough to say, he thinks a fellow hybrid is sick as fuck.

[iinterstellaarr]

Hi there! I just read your academic rivals and ahhhhh! It was amazing!!!

I wondered if I could be so brass! Any chance we could get hurt comfort, right person at the wrong time with sonar x fem reader, but when it’s finally right time? The one that got away due to his villain behaviour but he finally gets her back! I think you would write the tragic yearning super well, your sonar is insane! Bonus points for smut!

No pressure to do this either! Thankyou!

yesss yes yes yes, i love sonar but i know before Z-Team he was insufferable. this is also for that anon that mentioned ruining him in my inbox. i wanna top that bat like God intended!!!

!!18+ smut warning!! content includes: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, slight monster fucking, switch!sonar, switch!reader, blowjob, cunnilingus.

you’d known victor while you two attended harvard. he was smart, quippy, snarky, all the things that made you laugh and swoon. not a lot of people could overlook the bat face, so when you told him you loved him past it, he was whipped.

the issue is, victor never learned how to quit. he couldn’t accept when enough was enough and always thirsted for more. this greed is what lead him down the life of petty crime, he loved the idea of being rich and powerful, but he loved the idea of you attached to his hip more. don’t get him wrong, he never saw you as an object, he saw you as the person he could spend the rest of his life with.

but you didn’t see it that way.

victor changed when you two graduated. saw his harvard degree as less of a accomplishment and more of a selling point, constantly pointing it out to you despite you also graduating from the same place. he would lock himself in his room, constantly watching the four monitors he had set up for his stocks and crypto. snorting lines after lines of cocaine like it was his morning coffee. it was like you didn’t live with him anymore.

and him falling into crime was the last straw. he was practically begging you to stay, saying he could never imagine a life without you. it was… pathetic. so, you packed everything up, and moved away. this chapter of you and victors life was over. cold turkey.

at least that’s what you thought.

victor kept showing up to your work, to your home, to the bar you’d frequent when you decided to get back on the dating scene.

he was everywhere you were.

so what’d you do?

quit your job, moved houses, and go to a different bar downtown. you kept all of it hush hush, moving in secret and quitting with plenty of time to get that last paycheck, and go off grid.

you felt weird hiding from victor. he wasn’t dangerous, not like he’d kidnap you and keep you in his basement forever, he was just annoying.

so, new job! SDN had a great security package, amazing healthcare, and even dental! this seemed like the perfect job.

you were paired with robert robertson, a former hero who blonde blazer claimed to need help dispatching his group of former villains.

easy enough!

you fist bumped robert across the cubicle as you finally placed the headset on, signing in and getting ready for the first day of your new life!

“you hear that flambae? you got your ass kicked by ‘just a guy’”

oh, God must this this is real fucking cute.

that’s the only explanation for the fact that you and victor had somehow, someway ended up at the same job, on the same god damn team. this had to be some kinda sick joke that blonde blazer was pulling on you, maybe roberts in on it too.

you grit your teeth, staying so silent that your colleagues had assumed you had just dropped dead.

“team!” blazers voice calls out cheerily over the coms, your own name echoing through your headset as blazer introduces you, “this is robert’s assistant dispatcher! if you have any questions for her, please feel free to ask!” the call is so quiet you could hear someone fart if they did.

you hear your last name called out by victors… sonars, monotone voice. you flinch before unmuting yourself and clearing your throat, “that’s right.”

sonar didn’t speak once during your shift. not to make any stupid jokes, not to respond to your gentle encouragement when the team did well, didn’t even say anything when he signed off.

you pull the headset off, your hair being slightly messy. you sigh, leaning back in your seat and closing your eyes.

your relief is only temporary however. you feel a hand rest gently on your shoulder, and when you look up, you see sonar.

“can we… talk?” he watches as you sit up quickly, slightly jumpy at the sight of your ex boyfriend.

“uh, yeah! sure!” you spin around in your chair, hands rested neatly on your knees while sonar looks at you expectantly.

there’s a beat between you two before he sighs, “somewhere private?” you look around and see chase and robert peaking over their cubicle before darting away like they weren’t just eavesdropping.

you follow sonar to the janitors closet, apologizing to waterboy as he shuffles out with a stuttered apology.

the door closed behind you two with a soft click. it smells like bleach and the small hanging light does little to let you see his face. it was the first time you’d seen him fully since you two broke up.

he looked different. gentler, you could almost say.

“how’ve you been?” he kicks a cap that had no doubt been left off a bottle of cleaner and you watch as it rolls under a shelf, never to be seen again.

“did you pull me into a janitors closet to just ask how i’ve been?” you lean against the wall, staring at sonar. he sighs and pinches in between his eyes, like he would pinch the bridge of his nose.

“no! fuck… i just didn’t expect to see you here.” he admits, standing on the other side of the closet, hidden in the shadows.

you smile softly. nothing about this was funny, in fact it made you never want to come to work again and dig a hole to die in, but you could never help smiling around him.

“yeah, same.” you scoff, looking anywhere but into those white abyss of eyes that you once held so much love for, “villain reforming isn’t exactly the place you’d expect to see your ex boyfriend at.”

“i’m also in NA.” he tacks on, looking up at you from where you assumed his gaze on the floor was at.

“that’s good.”

he smiles, ever so faintly like he was happy you were seeing he was trying to turn his life around. “malevola is my sponsor. i missed last weeks meeting but im going again on friday.”

“i’m glad.” you couldn’t muster the courage to be happy for him. all you could wonder is when he’d fall back into his ways. the only person you could see him as is the person who failed you. “you’re doing well, victor.”

you reach for the handle of the closet, twisting it but pausing for just a moment.

“don’t fuck it up.” you add, looking away to purposefully not see his reaction. and you left.

victor had only seen your back recently. the image of you walking away is burned into his mind, walking away as he trashed the life he never thought would be ripped out from under him. a life with you.

he knew from the second he started dating you that he would marry you. it was all planned out in his head, a life with you and millions of dollars he’d not so cleanly obtain, and he’d give you the life you always wanted.

he never imagined a day where you would leave. the day where enough was enough and you’d finally leave behind the shit show his life had panned out to be.

he knew it was wrong to follow you, but he felt like this was the only way he’d get you back. make money, prove that he could support you, prove that he was better. but he only made it worse. only made it so you hid from him, and he had accepted when he joined SDN that he’d never see you again. but he hoped, god he hoped. prayed that you’d see him saving the city and rethink how you saw him.

you weren’t supposed to see him yet, he was still building his superhero persona. he was still cooking. he stood in the closet for a long time, until it was time for him to go back on the field and fight crime.

he tried his hardest, offering to pick up any mission and working on it until it was done. robert had never seen sonar so determined. it was like a switch flipped on in his head that told him what to do and why he was doing it.

the day wrapped up, everyone heading back to the office and getting ready to head home. robert was standing behind you as you put away all your items.

he places a hand on your shoulder, "FUCK! robert, can you learn to clear your throat or something?" you jump while he throws his hands up in defense, backing away like you were a rabid animal.

"my bad." he laughs while you stare daggers into his skull, "i was just wondering, do you have any hand in why sonar was pulling his weight and more today?"

a shiver goes down your spine.

"i've got no clue." you turn around, ignoring the nosy bitch behind you and hoping he would leave it be.

"oh, really? so you two going into the janitors closet has nothing to do with you?" he leans on the wall of your cubicle. god, does he know when to just let it go?

you choose to ignore him, shutting down your PC and letting the area flood into shadows.

"did he ask you to show him your tits? you can report that to HR-"

"no! fuck... we used to date, okay? is that what you wanted to hear?" you shove past robert, possibly more aggressive than you intended too. its not his fault, its not anyones fault.

you just so happened to have the worst luck in the history of the universe.

everyone just went back to work. you, sonar, even robert left it alone.

he worked quietly. he showed up on time, followed orders, didn’t talk back, didn’t try to be clever. every time your name came through the comms, he forced himself to breathe. forced himself not to picture the way your nose would scrunch when you laughed, or the sleepy way you’d lean against him after a long day.

he didn’t want to ruin this second chance.

you, on the other hand, tried to pretend like he wasn’t there. It wasn’t out of spite. it was out of self preservation. every time his voice came through your headset, calm and efficient, something old and dangerous fluttered in your chest. you wanted to believe he’d change. but you’d believed that before, too.

weeks passed. you fell into a rhythm. robert was nice, blonde blazer kept morale high, and victor...sonar...kept to himself.

until one night.

a late dispatch. a messy one. the team had been ambushed during a sting, and comms went to hell in under thirty seconds. you could hear yelling, static, panic.

“sonar, what’s your position?” you asked, voice shaking.

no response.

“sonar!” you said again, louder this time, your heart climbing into your throat.

robert shot you a worried look from across the cubicle, already typing furiously to pull up live feeds.

then his voice, ragged, but alive, crackled through. “dispatch-” A sharp inhale. “i'm down. north alley.”

your blood turned cold.

“sonar?” you tried, voice trembling. “victor, come in. are you okay?"

silence.

“vic, answer me!” you shouted, already ripping the headset off as you bolted from your desk. robert was calling after you, but you didn’t stop. you didn’t think. you just ran.

the streets blurred. sirens wailed somewhere distant. your lungs burned by the time you reached the alley, and when you saw him, you nearly forgot how to breathe.

he was slumped against a brick wall, one hand pressed weakly to his side. blood, dark and slick, soaked through his suit.

“victor,” you whispered, falling to your knees beside him.

his head lifted just enough for you to see the faintest, pained smile. “hey,” he rasped, “you came.”

“of course I came!” you snapped, hands trembling as you pressed your jacket to his wound. “god, you’re bleeding...why didn’t you wait for backup?!”

he only laughed, strained and airy, while he slumped back down the wall.

“victor… no, no! hey, stay with me. don’t leave me again.”

the night was a blur. an ambulance finally showed up to the scene to take him away, they said it was nothing fatal and he should be back to work in a week.

you couldn’t wait that long.

the hospital smelled like disinfectant and bad coffee, the kind that had been sitting on the burner too long, turned bitter and sticky. you sat in an uncomfortable chair, hands shaking as they rested on your bobbing leg. you couldn’t sit still, couldn’t ignore the pounding in your heart that told you maybe more of it belonged to victor than you thought.

the nurse at the desk finally called your name. “he’s stable. you can see him now.”

you didn’t realize how long you’d been holding your breath until it came out in a shaky rush.

the room they led you to was quiet, the only sound being the soft beep of the monitor beside his bed. victor looked small. not weak, not pitiful, just… human.

you hesitated in the doorway. part of you wanted to leave, to keep the distance you’d worked so hard to build. but you couldn’t. not when he looked like that.

so you stepped inside.

he stirred before you even said anything, eyes fluttering open, unfocused for a second before landing on you. and then, that same smile. the one you learned to love all those years ago, the one you saw when you accepted his confession.

“hey,” he murmured. his voice was rough, like gravel.

“hey yourself,” you whispered, sitting down in the chair beside the bed. “you scared the hell out of me.”

he gave a low laugh that turned into a wince. “didn’t mean to. i swear i was being careful this time.”

“yeah, i can tell,” you said, gesturing to the bandages. but your tone wasn’t cruel. it was soft. weary.

there was a long pause where neither of you spoke. the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled.

he looked down at his hands. “i didn’t think you’d come.”

“you said you were down,” you said quietly. “what was i supposed to do? ignore it?”

his gaze flicked up to meet yours. those pale, strange eyes that always managed to see right through you. “you could have.”

you shook your head. “not anymore.”

he frowned slightly, like he didn’t understand.

you sighed, leaning back in the chair. “when i left, i told myself i wouldn’t look back. i thought i was doing the right thing. saving myself before you could drag me down with you. and maybe i was. but… it never really stopped hurting, you know?”

his fingers twitched against the blanket. “it hurt for me too.”

“i know,” you whispered. “i just didn’t think you cared”

he swallowed hard, eyes glassy. “i’m trying, you know. i’m actually trying this time. i just… want to be someone you wouldn’t be ashamed to look at.”

you smiled faintly, the kind that hurt more than it comforted. “you don’t have to earn that anymore, victor. i already see it.”

he blinked, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

you reached out without thinking, fingers brushing over his, light as a ghost. “just don’t make me watch you fall apart again. i can’t do that twice.”

he turned his hand over slowly, palm up, letting your touch stay there. “then i won’t. not this time.”

it’s been six months.

six months since the hospital. since the long nights that blurred between late shifts and recovery visits. six months of seeing victor slowly grow into someone steadier. someone real.

and six months since you let him back in. not all at once. just… in small, careful doses. coffee after work. quiet dinners. laughter that didn’t sting anymore. until one day, he was just there again. toothbrush next to yours. jacket hanging on the same hook. like it had always been meant to be.

you open the door after a long day at SDN, the city’s buzz still faint in your ears. the apartment smells faintly like something warm. cinnamon? and you can hear soft music playing from the kitchen.

“victor?” you call out, kicking off your shoes.

he leans around the corner, towel slung over his shoulder, shirt rolled up to his elbows. “hey, you’re early.”

you blink at him. “you cooked?”

he grins. “trying to. you said you missed that bakery near harvard, so… i found a recipe online. don’t judge the outcome yet.”

on the counter sits a tray of uneven, slightly lopsided cinnamon rolls. they look nothing like the originals, but maybe that’s what makes them perfect.

you laugh, walking over and poking one gently. “you’re actually stupid.”

“stupidly sexy,” he corrects, stepping closer.

you roll your eyes, but the smile won’t leave your face. “i meant stupid as in you burn water, victor.”

he hums, low in his throat, and you feel his hand rest lightly on your hip. “hey, i graduated from harvard,”

you tilt your head up, pretending not to notice the way he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you instead of his dessert “so what’s this? bribing me with pastries?”

“more like celebrating,” he says. “six whole months. no slip ups, clean cut, baby.”

you blink. “six months?”

he nods, eyes warm. “figured i’d mark the occasion. also,” he gestures awkwardly to the table, where there’s a small box wrapped in gold paper. “it’s not a ring or anything, don’t freak out.”

you snort. “you’re terrible at gift giving intros.”

“shut the fuck up and open it,” he says, smiling.

inside is a simple keychain, a small, silver bat emblem, etched with your initials on the back.

“so you don’t lose your keys,” he says quietly. “or me.”

you look up, eyes soft. “you’re still slick as ever,” you say, sarcasm laced in your voice.

“you love that about me.”

“unfortunately,” you say, but this time, you don’t mean it.

he leans in then, close enough that his breath ghosts over your cheek. “you know,” he murmurs, “i could think of another way to celebrate.”

you raise an eyebrow. “is it as messy as your baking?”

“messier,” he admits, voice low, smile crooked.

you laugh again, that same unguarded sound he fell for years ago, and tug him closer by the collar of his pressed white shirt, “show me what you got, bat boy.”

he does not wait.

pushing you against the counter in the kitchen, large hands resting on your waist while he begins an assault on your neck with his fangs. never breaking the skin but leaving little nips here and there.

your hands graze through his fur, pulling slightly and coercing loud groans from victor.

“fuck, i love when you do that.” he whispers, warm breath fanning across your skin sending goose bumps up your arms.

“i know.” you hum, raking your hands up and down his arms, subtly enjoying the feeling of his strong muscles under the dress shirt.

he picks you up effortlessly, knocking into everything possible as he clumsily makes his way towards his bedroom, still nipping at your neck gently, “brace yourself.”

he tosses you down on the bed, smiling as you giggle from the sudden fall. it’s been so long since you and victor had gotten sexual. you know deep down in your heart, this isn’t going to be slow and sensual.

this is gonna be rough. and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

his hands grab your calfs, pulling you towards the edge of the bed. he drapes your legs over his shoulder, caressing your thigh over your pants.

“you ready?” his fuzzy cheeks leans against your thigh and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a prettier sight. victor looks amazing between your legs. you nod, propping yourself up on your elbows as you look down at him.

he stands up slightly, large hands fumbling with the waist of your pants and pulling them down like he couldn’t get to his prize faster. you could swear you hear a soft purr at the sight of the black panties you were wearing, but victor would deny it to the ends of the earth.

“wait, vic. how are you… i mean.. fangs and all.” you look down at the exposed lower half of your body, silently terrified that he was gonna accidentally turn your pussy into minced meat.

he pauses for a moment, looking down at his hands that are grazing the edge of your panties in thought before his eyes light up like a christmas tree.

he smiles at you, something dark and devious as he pulls down, exposing your core to the cool air of his bedroom.

“you’re smart, that’s why i started dating you.” his head lowers down, fur tickling the inside of your thighs gently.

“but not smart enough.” his tongue rolls out of his mouth, licking a long stripe up through your folds and rolling across your clit deliciously. fuck, how long was his tongue? his fangs weren’t even close to your cunt, but his tongue could reach it easily. why have you never noticed this?

“fuu..fuck, vic-” you grab onto the base of his ears, subconsciously shoving him closer and grabbing a deep groan from victor. you can’t see exactly if he was looking up at you, but it was sexier to imagine he was.

his tongue moves in circles across your clit before moving down and slowly pushing into your entrance, mostly examining to see just how much you could take. his thumb rolled gently across your clit, the rest of his hand spreading across the lower half of your stomach.

you let out a soft whiny moan, head thrashing back on the pillows as you feel the intrusion of his tongue. it rubs against your walls, seemingly searching for something before it rubs against that soft spongy part that made you practically scream.

“haah… you’ve been hiding this from me you, fuuck.. you rat bastard..” you smile down at victor, watching as he shrugs slightly and makes a noise that you could only assume was a chuckle.

fuck, you couldn’t get enough. his hands were gripping greedily on your thighs, sure to leave some sort of mark there when you woke up in the morning. his tongue was thrusting in and out, dripping saliva onto the sheets and making a wet squelching noise as it did so.

he pulls away, much to your annoyance, wiping the bottom of his snout as you see the fur glistening with a mix of his spit and your arousal.

“wanna top?” you practically jump on him at that question, flipping him around so he was laying where you were a moment ago. his chest was heaving as you pinned him, soft thighs squishing his.

“god, you are so fuckin hot.” he watches while you pull your shirt of your frame, bra caging away the two things he almost missed the most when you left. he sits up slightly, pulling your bra off with a carnal desire, not even trying to unclasp it, and watching as your breasts spill out, bouncing slightly. you swear you saw him fist bump.

“fuck yeah, baby, that’s what i’m talking about!” his hands grasp your tits immediately, rolling them in his palms somewhat aggressively. his fangs hover against your nipples, almost biting down.

you could feel his dick pressing up against your pussy, leaving a dark wet mark on his dress pants that he was absolutely gonna complain about later.

he follows your gaze, lifting you off him quickly to shimmy out of his pants and boxers. smiling when his cock finally comes free from its constraints.

victor wasn’t packing intense heat or anything like that, but it was enough to make you giggle in anticipation.

victor watches excitedly as you finally align his flushed red tip with your entrance. he is harnessing all his restraint to not bust at the feeling of your slick coating his cock as you sink down gently. you groan, back arching at the size of victor while he throws an arm over his face, heaving into the crook of his elbow.

god, it’s been too long since he got his dick wet, he’s moaning like a virgin.

you feel his hands as they caress across your hips, shivering as they move up your waist and settle right under your tits, rolling his thumb over your exposed nipples. he had a dopey smile plastered across his face as you bounced up and down softly, still adjusting to his size.

he loved it when you topped, the image of you looking down at him through your lashes, hands resting on top of his hairy chest, and breasts bouncing while you did. it sent him to another dimension. one where there wasn’t a worry in the world and the only thing he had to focus on was the beautiful girl that had agreed to bounce on his cock like a slut.

your right hand moved from it’s position on his chest, cupping his cheek and moving up towards the bottom of his pointy ears. you slowly massaged the inside with your thumb, twirling the fur against the rest of your fingers as you did so.

you don’t think you’ve ever heard victor whimper, but now, as all the sensory input becomes to much for him, he lets out the softest little whine that only makes you clench your walls harder against his cock, fully pulling out a panicked whimper from him.

“fuck, fuck, fuuuck…” he gasps, thrusting his hips up to meet the wet plap! as your cunt grazed across the hair growing near the base of his member.

his eyes are screwed shut, head thrown back on the pillows like he was wrecked. his nails were digging into your skin, leaving little crescent shaped marks against your hips and you could feel his hands pushing and pulling you up and down his length, groaning while doing so.

a particularly harsh roll of your hips had him sitting up fully, wrapping his arms around your waist and thrusting up wildly. he looks up at you, mouth hung open and breath grazing hot across your neck as you pet through his fur.

“aww.. you look so pretty down there..” breath whispy and dark against his ears. he can’t pull his eyes off you, your hair falling against your face, strands sticking to the sweat against your forehead.

“don’t say that, oh my god, or else i’ll burst.” he half mumbles, half laughs. oh, this is too good to be true. he pushes your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear before his face drops into the valley between your breasts.

the room is hot, heavy, and the sound of moaning, the bed creaking, your soft whines and occasional harsh cursing is getting to victor.

oh shit, he knows what’s coming.

“babe, you gotta.. fuck me.. you gotta get off.” before you could hear his warning, you feel fur growing under your palm, the distant sound of transformation ringing through your ears and a deliciously painful stretch as victors cock grew twice the size inside of you.

“oh, fuck!” you gasp out, half a moan and half a surprised noise as your walls suddenly expand to fit in the now 9 inch cock that was kissing your cervix.

you look down, seeing the familiar view of your boyfriends transformed bat form, red eyes staring up at you in shock and wings exploding from behind him, spanning across the bed. his hands growing long, incredibly sharp finger nails that drew a bit of blood from where they gripped against your waist.

you both pause for a moment, looking at each other. victor is trying to gauge if he just hurt you, obviously aside from the nails but also from the sudden introduction of a larger dick into your pussy.

you, on the other hand, are coming to terms with this being the hottest thing victor has ever done while fucking you. you’re not exactly sure what this says about you, but you hardly have time to think before you roll your hips again, gasping out and slamming a fist against victors chest.

his wings flutter, hands becoming more careful of the nails and eyes rolling back. this may be a new stretch for you, but its also another world of clenching for him. your walls are squeezing against him harder than he had ever felt before, pulling chirps and moans from victor.

“jeeesus… fuck yeah, baby. you like that? was scared you got hurt.” victors voice was distorted and deep, caressing a shiver down your spine. you nod furiously, hands pulling against the fur on his chest.

before either of you could go to hard, possibly hurting the other person, a light flashes behind your eyelids, the coil in your stomach that had been twisted to its very end finally snapped, allowing a wave of pleasure to fall over you.

“baby, ‘m cumming..” you hum, bouncing up and down, up and down against his cock.

you wanted to collapse, wanted to fall against his chest and let sleep pull you under.

but you had a better idea.

after the pleasure had faded slightly, a burn now settling in your thighs, you smiled deviously. you pulled yourself off his cock with a wet pop, hands caressing down his chest, across the expanse of fur on his thigh, watching as the large bat form had disappeared just as soon as it showed up.

he peaked down, watching as your hand caressed to top of his tip, pulling down with a soft shlick. you can’t help but smile as he sits up, watching you pull the rest of his sensitive cock into your mouth.

he came quick after that, making a mental note that his dick becomes 10x more sensitive after he transforms. he has to practically pull your mouth off of him after he cums, salty and wet against your tongue. he wants to bust all over again as you open your mouth for him to show you swallowed.

“you don’t have to do that, you know.” he smiles, lopsided and dopey while you cuddle up against his chest, tracing some sort of pattern with your nail across his skin.

“you mentioned once when you were off like three bumps that you liked it, so i’ll do it if it gets you wet,” he smacks his hand across his face, dragging down and groaning while you giggle and pepper his fuzzy face with kisses.

he hums, low and guttural like a purr when you finally settle down again, falling into a comfortable space of sleep.

he can’t explain to you how happy he is that your back. never was good with words either way.

but he will fuck you with his bat form as many times to prove he will stay, if that’s what you want.

[iinterstellaarr]

finally writing sonar smut….. i’m so excited

[iinterstellaarr]

do yall think sonar likes to cuddle?

i can see him being a HUGE cuddler but when summer rolls around that man gets HOT when he’s sleeping.

summer for sonar has never been particularly kind. the fur around his neck and general face region was always amazing for keeping him warm and cozy, especially if he’s flying. but as june and july rolls in, he knows the inevitable.

“god, can it get any fucking hotter?” you roll your eyes from the kitchen, poking your head out to see your poor batty boyfriend sat in front of the a/c with it on full blast.

“victor! what did i say about having the a/c all the way up?” you can admit you probably have it better off than mr. built in scarf but the electricity bill drowns your savings each month, so you’d prefer to keep it down as much as possible.

“babe, it’s like… a hundred degrees in here. i am dying. give me some leeway..” he’s practically whining as he lays out on the floor, clinging to the cool hardwood floors.

“get an ice pack or something,” you sigh, walking back to the kitchen to see the ice in your water has already started to melt.

what did lana del ray say about summer nights? because sonar couldn’t think of a better word to describe the hell scape he was in at the moment.

he can’t help but feel a little envious of you wrapped up in a blanket on the other side of the bed, oblivious to the gallons of sweat he was producing right now.

and he always hated shoving you away on nights like these but oh my god, why is your skin so hot. he thinks he’s literally about to melt.

it gets even worse when he comes back from a mission covered head to toe in that god awful fur, and he can’t change back. you have often come home to find a ginormous bat monster in your shower with the setting cranked to the coldest temperature, his fur now clogging your drain and simultaneously racking up your water bill. however, the image of a huge bat creature sopping wet and whining in your shower is hilarious, so you tend to let it slide.

but once the hot summer weather cools down into something less harsh, that’s when sonar really shines.

his fur is genetically made to keep him warm, which means whenever your landlord conveniently forgets he has to come fix your furnace, sonar is standing proud to offer his fur to warm up your chilly hands.

and your favorite activity during the cold months is to snuggle up on the couch with him, and shove your freezing hands up his shirt just to annoy him. the little half human scream half bat screech he lets out never fails to crack you up.

“come cuddle on the couch!” snow was falling outside, cooling down the house by about a bajillion degrees and you wanted nothing more than your warm boyfriend to give you solace.

“no, you ice witch. your hands are fuckin’ freezing and i KNOW what you’re gonna do with ‘em.” he stands across from you, looking less than amused as you pull the, “woe is me, my boyfriend hates me and won’t come cuddle on the couch with me!” card. (he’ll always give in.)

and the cuddling when he’s in his bat form? oh boy.

his legs and arms are dangling off the bed and his wings are taking up the rest of the surface area, meaning the only space for you to fit is on top of his fluffy chest.

oh no…. my steak is too juicy and my lobster is too buttery!!!

he likes to wrap his wings around you whenever you have fully hydraulic pressed sonar into the mattress, keeping you close and safe, and a part of you suspects this is a symptom of his primal bat brain, but you’d never complain considering you get to nuzzle your nose into a soft tuft of fur every winter!!

[iinterstellaarr]

your sonar stuff is so GOOOODDDD I've been binge reading all of it!! keep up the amazing work 💜

THANK YOU MY LOVE!! tysm for reading all my stuff it makes me so happy! i just finished dispatch and i have such a love for this game, im absolutely replaying it. i cant muster up the courage to cut sonar though, hes my goat hehe! more will be coming out because of all the love in my ask box (keep requesting!! I love it!) so dont worry, i wont be slowing down anytime soon!

[iinterstellaarr]

hear me out: reader with healing powers on sdn's medical team, you take care of the heroes who come back injured but you need to be hands-on for your powers to work, and sonar who keeps letting himself get roughed up more than usual on missions so he has an excuse to have your hands on him..

you're worried about how often he's getting hurt and he does feel a little guilty, but he's just so addicted to your touch, the pleasant feeling of your powers washing over him (and maybe he gets a little turned on from all the attention, how carefully you look him over to make sure he's all healed up)

yeah, fucking ABSOLUTELY what a banger idea!

i mean, working at SDN as a hero with healing powers is a demanding task. every hero comes in a little roughed up, a few cuts and scrapes here, a few concussions and maybe a broken bone every so often. nothing your powers couldn’t fix!

you learned about your healing powers at a very early age when your mother burnt her hand on the stove. all you wanted to do was help her. without thinking, you grabbed her hand and just kept thinking “fix it, get better, she’s gonna be okay!” and before you knew it, a pulse of energy was surging through your palms. a glowing white light envelopes your mothers hand and the skin around the burn seemed to pull together, and it was like it never even happened in the first place.

over the time working at SDN, you’ve seen your fair share of the Z-Team. each new dispatcher sends them to you at least once a week, apologizing for any inconvenience. you never mind, it is your job after all! they never give you too much trouble, maybe a bit awkward at times but never genuinely rude.

but mentally, you’ve been keeping track of how many times you’ve seen them, and there is a stark contrast on your little tally marks.

sonar.

the half bat hybrid that realistically should never be getting injured as much as he is. at a minimum, he visits your small office at least once a week. you believe the maximum was 5 times in one day.

truth be told you’ve started to get concerned.

“what’s up?” you don’t have to look over to know who that deep, monotone voice belongs too. he’s already visited your office once today, for a small gash across his arm but you healed it instantly and sent him on his way with a good luck.

“welcome back, sonar.” you smile, pointing over to the small bed you had in the room, “what is it this time?”

“hey, why the hostility doc? can a man not get hurt anymore?” he tilts his head, the floppy ears bending slightly as he did so. you laugh quietly.

“sonar, i’m starting to believe you’re a masochist with how much you’re in my office.” sonar only shrugs and removes his shirt to show a dark bruise blooming across the side of his abdomen. possibly a broken rib but it’s hard to tell just from looking at him.

“got launched and wrapped myself around a tree..” he admits, scratching the back of his head. you nod, checking the rest of his vitals for any signs of injury other than the bruise. his skin is warm in contrast to your cool hands just barely touching to check the rest of him, and he can’t help but shiver.

“well, it should be a pretty easy fix. deep breaths, don’t move-“ he cuts you off, an easy smile across his face.

“yeah, yeah. don’t move, breath even, it might tickle but don’t laugh.” you should’ve seen that coming, it’s a little embarrassing that he had your entire speech memorized but you suppose it did make sense.

he flinches a little at your cold hands when they touch his abdomen, and you can’t help but laugh a little bit before actually focusing. your hair starts to float as the white energy leaks out of your palms, soaking into sonars skin with a soft hum.

you always close your eyes for this part. there was no reason for it, it just felt right.

but that also means, you never noticed sonar genuinely struggling to hold himself back. i’m positive he’s had to bite his hand to hold back any groaning he may do because he doesn’t want to get reported to HR.

the feeling of your hands on his waist, the cool touch because your medical office just had to be kept in subarctic conditions, and of course, the warm glow from your powers. it was a sensory dream and all of that was going straight to sonars dick.

he’d always compose himself before you could open your eyes, but he never got used to this feeling. the feeling that someone actually cares.

“it should be all good. if you notice anything off or see any complications you can come see me again.” you smile, turning away from sonar to clean and put away your medical equipment while he slowly shrugs his shirt back on.

“i can’t thank you enough, doc,” his ears twitch slightly, giving away that he was probably more excited about this check up than you were.

“but sonar, i’m being serious when i say this. i don’t want to see you in here again unless that heal didn’t work.” your deadpan face as you look over at him shoots down any happiness sonar had just a moment ago.

aw shit, did you know? did you finally open your eyes for once and see sonar basically thrashing on the medical table from the feeling of your hands? did you think he was a creep??

“you keep getting hurt, and frankly it’s concerning. if you keep coming in here i’m gonna have to tell robert and request that you been taken off the Z-Team for extra training.” oh, you didn’t think he was a creep, you just thought he absolutely sucked at his job.

his shoulders sag a bit at this remark, his ears drooping in an admittedly adorable way. he didn’t suck at his job, honest! he was actually one of robert’s most successful heros, making great time on each mission and getting the job done with no questions asked. he just… wanted to see you.

he throws his arm across his face, leaning against the wall dramatically, “oh doc, you wound me!” he sighs, peaking to see you smiling but still crossing your arms.

“i’m serious! you’re my most seen patient and im getting worried.” you timidly pull his arm away from his face, the first contact you’ve made from sonar apart from your healing.

god, he hopes you can’t hear his heartbeat.

he smiles, letting you hold his arm in your hands without protest and shrugs, “fine, fine. i’ll be more careful. just for you, doc.” you grin, accepting this truce and sending sonar back on the clock, hoping this would be the last you’d see of sonar.

that was the last you’d seen of sonar, in your office at least.

somehow, someway, sonar found you all around SDN.

a quick trip to the bathroom? you’d make a 15 minute pit stop to talk to sonar who just so happened to be in the same hallway as you. a small trip to the break room because some kind soul brought in donuts? sonar was always in there, feasting away.

it was nice to see sonar outside of the injuries, actually getting to know him rather than making small medical talk. he was nice enough, hilarious with his dry humor, and always flirting with you.

that last part was obvious to everyone. sonar was constantly complimenting your medical work, your hair, the way the lab coat you wore adorned your figure. anything he could find, he would compliment.

anytime you bent over in the break room to reach the bottom shelf of the fridge, flambae would gag at the way sonar was unabashedly staring at you. you thought it was slightly cute, if not endearing to have a hero (i mean, almost a hero) flirting with you.

“if you keep staring at me i’m gonna think you actually like me.” you smile, leaning against the doorframe into your office which was now a “anti sonar” room.

“i’m flirting with you cause i wanna get in your pants.” your eyebrows raise faster than you’d take of your pants for sonar, genuinely shocked the he’d be that bold.

“and get to know you better! that sounded better in my head.” he scratches behind his head, giggling awkwardly and praying he didn’t just fuck everything up. to his surprise, you didn’t immediately slap him and lock your office door.

“jesus sonar! i can never read you.” the relief he feels that you simply laugh it off is comparable to an orgasm. trust him, he’d know.

“i just like the way i feel when im around you. i liked the way you touched me.” his words were always laced with some sort of sex innuendo but you understood what he was saying.

“sonar, were you coming into my office just so i could touch you?”

“…it’s a possibility.”

you two never seemed like the couple that would actually get together, maybe more push and pull but somehow, sonar pulled it all together despite malevola saying he was “fumbling a baddie.” whatever that means.

[iinterstellaarr]

sonarsonarsonarsonarsonarsonarsonarsonar

your writing is delicious, keep it up

THANK YOU HONEYBUN!!! i’m so glad everyone is enjoying my sonar content and i cannot thank you all enough for the kind words, it means the most to me!! i plan to continue writing for sonar because dispatch needs more content in general and i am SO SO happy to provide. this stupid bat had taken over my entire brain hehe

[iinterstellaarr]

for this lovely anon!!! the request was flipping out in my inbox for some reason but dw boo i see you! tysm for the kind words ilysm!

and YES i love seeing sonar be paired with an absolute joy of a reader, they’re all sunshine and rainbows and fun and sonar is… well he’s sonar LOL

you’d been apart of SDN way before the Z Team was ever put together, thrown between teams and never getting too attached knowing you’d be bounced pretty quickly.

but once blonde blazer paired you with the league of ex villains, claiming they needed a morale boost and a ball of sunshine such as yourself, you grasped at the task immediately.

but throwing you into the Z-Team was like throwing a nuke of glitter into a shaggy carpet. you lit up any room you walked in, talking to anyone who was willing to listen. all bright smiles and laughter in a team full of hard asses.

you’d grown close to the entire team, always shooting out light hearted jokes and picking on robert with the rest of the team (you’d apologize to him later) but there was one certain bat that had caught your eye.

you’d seen sonar hanging around the office periodically, always in and out and lounging in the break room like it was his personal home. to most people, he was nothing special. a smooth talker, sure, but only so much silver lining can hide what’s rough.

you don’t know exactly what about him drew you in so close, but your naive brain shouted at you to get closer.

sonar is… lovably dense. anytime you brought in fresh coffee from the shop down the street, you’d nail his order everytime. getting a nice mix of sugar from the creamer and the bitterness from the espresso. everyone else’s coffee? well let’s just say you made a few innocent fuck ups.

prism and coupe had made more than one comment on this, especially after you come back from a mission with sonar, him carrying you in his giant bat form.

“mission went well, yes?” coupe cornered you while sonar was busy scrounging the last donuts you had so gracefully brought in that morning (a suspicious amount of them tailored to sonar’s exact preference, but who’s to say?)

you beamed, excitedly recounting the mission and all the cool moves you got to show off, subtly complimenting the bat hybrid across the room from you while doing so. “and i mean, sonar carried me back! it’s so cool that he gets to fly, i wish i could fly!”

prism couldn’t help but smirk, a malicious plan spreading through her brain like wildfire.

“yo, sonny! mission went well?” sonars wild bat head poked up from where he was crouched down in the corner, hoping to take up as little space as possible.

“uh, yeah..” he nodded, diving back face first into his precious donut, “why?”

“they didn’t give you too much trouble?” prism shot a finger towards you, who was now anxiously awaiting what sonar had to say about your abilities as a hero.

“nah, they did good.”

“stupid ass response..” prism looks over at you, expecting some sort of sulking, maybe a possible frown due to the weak reply.

but you are GRINNING. like ear to ear smile because this is the first time sonar had said something about you that could be considered a direct compliment.

sonar is the last to notice your crush on him. everyone else has been teasing you for weeks at this point, constantly bringing it up and talking about how stupid it is. (they tell you this straight to your face, and yet it never deters you.)

the late night tacos after that shit show of a bar fight is where it all comes to a head. everyone is shocked to learn poor little robert is actually a world renowned superhero, and yet you are staring daggers at sonar. well, now victor.

he has never, in his entire life, looked more sexy to you than he does right now. his sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, showing off the plethora of arm hair he had so lovingly refused to shave down, he was roughed up, off more than a few bumps of cocaine, and smelled like sweat.

you wanted him so bad.

you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or the alcohol that made you want to rip off all his clothes right now, but my god, it was getting harder to control that urge.

“why’re you lookin’ at me like i just twisted your nipple?” sonar was never one for filler words, was he?

“i wouldn’t mind if you did,” the chomping on the shitty taco he was eating paused, your words being drowned out by everyone else talking, but he heard it loud and clear.

“pardon me? you said what?” you were practically falling asleep on those little metal tables outside the taco place, and you knew when you woke up in the morning you were gonna regret every drinking that shitty whiskey and getting bold, but it was now or never.

“you heard me, vic.” you smiled clumsily, head falling off your hands and snapping you back awake but not fully conscious.

and the next thing you saw when you wake up is your bedroom.

aw fuck.

“someone’s finally woke up.” his voice reverberated through your head, hitting off every neuron in your brain that caused this stupid crush in the first place,

“when’s i get back home? ugh, my head is killing meee…” the sound of a soft thud opens your eyes, sonar…er, victor, handing you three ibuprofen and a glass of water.

“you still down for the nipple thing?”

oh, he’s so stupid.

but that’s why you love him.

[iinterstellaarr]

sonar enemies to lovers part 2? i think so!

after that… event in the bathroom, you’d notice sonar has been avoiding you completely. no more silly little jabs at your school, no more disobeying orders, not even a single mission together. life had gotten eerily quiet ever since sonar stopped talking.

well, he didn’t stop talking. he was still a chatterbox around everyone else, even robert. but the second it was just you and him, it was like his mouth was glued shut.

it had been a week since you’d heard sonar address you directly, and somehow this silent treatment was annoying you more than his teasing ever did. missions together were now over as quick as possible, with sonar following any of your ideas immediately, and disappearing once the threat had been neutralized.

this was getting to a point.

your shift was over, everyone either headed home or lingering around the building trying to close up loose ends. you wave goodbye to waterboy before heading down to the gym.

you always got in a quick workout after your shift, wanting to keep your skills sharp. it was quiet and there was no one there to bother you.

except for him.

sonar pushed open the doors to the gym, pausing as he saw you sitting on a bench, breathing heavily after a set. he looked genuinely conflicted for a moment but seemed to swallow his pride and pick a punching bag on the other side of the gym from you.

“you still doing that strong, silent thing?” you wipe your mouth, water from your bottle dribbling down your lips annoyingly. he only sighed in response.

blow after blow is landed on the bag, having the poor item swinging in every direction, “i guess so.” you grimace.

you step closer to him, hands on your hips and annoyance glazing your face. “look if you’re gonna keep ignoring me, then maybe do it when we’re not in the same team.”

he swings a jab at the punching bag, sending it a few inches to the left and the only sound heard is the dangling of the chain it rests on.

“you tryna spar?” it was the first words sonar had addressed straight to you in a full week. you’ll take what you can get.

the space of the gym had been cleared out by you two to make a makeshift arena, both of you standing on one side.

it starts light, testing footwork and dodging, no genuine malice behind any of the hits, just an attempt to get the other to surrender.

he was breathing heavily, his chest heaving underneath the hoodie he had adorned. he looked so different in casual clothing, so… domestic.

his knuckles meet the side of your torso, sending you straight down to the concrete floor while you struggle to catch your breath.

“that’s a win for harvard.” god, you wanted to rip both his ears off with your teeth.

you stand again, wiping the small beads of sweat that had collected in beads on your forehead. “fights not over yet.”

you settle into a smooth rhythm of missing hits and jumping out of the way just before his foot could connect with your face.

then he slips, just barely, and you take the opening. a twist, a shift of weight, and suddenly he’s on the floor with your knees on either side of his thighs, your hands pinning his wrists just above his pointy ears

for a second, neither of you move. you can hear his breath catch, quick and uneven.

“got you,” you say, breathless than you wanted but smug.

he stares up at you, eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them. then he jerks, scrambling free like he’s been burned.

he stands up straight, turned away from you while he catches his breath. yale is now winning this stupid fight

“what’s up bat boy? scared because i just beat you-“ he turns around, and you can see the tip of his ears have flushed a bright pink, darker than they usually were.

“i just got hard as fuck.”

wait, what??

your eyes deceive you, looking down to the sweatpants he was wearing and sure enough, a… how do i put this… bulge had grown where there previously was not one.

you stand there for a second, brain short-circuiting, because what exactly are you supposed to do with that? heat creeps up the back of your neck, and you awkwardly clear your throat, pretending to fix your sleeve as you shuffle toward the door.

“oh! right. okay. cool talk! i’m gonna…uh…go.”

you barely make it two steps before his voice stops you.

“wait…”

you turn, trying (and failing) to hold any sense of composure. “yeah?”

he smirks, towel slung over his shoulder, eyes glinting. “feel free to pin me like that whenever you want.”

you blink, pulse tripping. “excuse me?”

“just buy me dinner first,” he adds, deadpan.

your brain blanks completely. oh my god, you hate him so much. “you’re—”

“charming? irresistible?”

“-impossible,” you finish, trying not to smile as you two walk out the door.

he chuckles under his breath, calling after you, “picking you up at seven, yale. don’t be late.”

and damn it all to hell, you’re smiling all the home, far to excited for him to pull up to your apartment in his shitty car, and finally take you on a shitty date.

(hi, author here! PLEASE OH MY GOD PLEASE request more sonar im having a ball writing for him!!)

[iinterstellaarr]

HAII may i request sonar x gn!reader enemies to lovers situation hcs? maybe y/n went to yale and they bitch about their unis together? or maybe academic rivals at harvard? maybe just hate at first sight by the y/n's part, either way i luv ur writing <33

aww ty love bug!! and i love this idea so fucking much i’ve also made reader a hawk hybrid, wink wink nudge nudge

let’s say you and sonar graduated from opposing schools. your family had always supported you throughout your tough ride through yale, it’s no easy task for get into yale, much less graduate!

but the ceremony that handed you your degree was 5 years ago, and you’re not sure how but now you’re stuck with the worlds shittiest team of super heros, and one of them is getting too far under your skin.

sonar always showed up to the SDN in a crisp dark blue suit that seemed to compliment his white glassy eyes well, and admittedly, your first instinct was to compliment his sleek attire. he looked well informed, put together, someone who would’ve also attended yale-

“yeah, i’m a harvard graduate.” his tone was far to practiced to be genuine nonchalance, he wanted to brag about it and he wanted you to drop your jaw and fawn over his intelligence like some civilian that needed the help of the big scary ass bat.

“oh, how… cute. i’m a yale graduate!” the word yale slipped of your tongue like a dagger straight into his head. sonars eyes narrow on your frame, the wings behind your back fluffing up as if you were saying, “try me.”

“i see, the yale route huh? did daddy’s money help you get in or did you sleep with a teacher so they’d put in a good word?” he was leaning back in his chair like the weak remark just blew this whole case wide open, like you’d get flustered and run out the break room muttering and shaking your head.

you blink once, stirring your coffee like he’d just asked about the weather. “i guess harvard is still teaching projection. or, is that just something that came with your insecurity?”

he laughed, although the smile never reached his eyes. “between us, i didn’t need help getting into anywhere? hawkeye.” the nickname made your blood boil for some reason, it could’ve been cute if you knew it wasn’t condescending. he’s a prick.

you cross your arms, smile sharp. “right, you just talked through every class until the professors got sick of your voice and gave you an A.”

“worked like a charm.” he tips his head, grin tilting. “funny how much effort you put into trying to prove you’re better than me.”

“please,” you scoff. “if i wanted competition, i’d argue with someone who actually wins.”

for a second, his smirk falters. just enough to tell you you’ve landed the hit. then it’s back, broader this time, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“careful, yale,” he says quietly, stepping close enough that his voice drops a register. “keep that up and i might start thinking you like me.”

you meet his gaze, pulse quick but voice steady.

“don’t flatter yourself, harvard. i’ll just enjoy the view when you lose.”

he could hear your pulse, of course he could.

everyone in the Z-Team is so sick of you two bickering. every mission becomes a challenge on who can do it faster, smarter, more efficient. robert hates the both of you equally and he can’t help but sigh every time you get rage baited by sonar.

“harvard STATISTICALLY has a lower acceptance rate than yale. look it up, you nimrod.” he may be a full city block away, but his voice is still reverberating through your skull due to the stupid headpiece you got from SDN.

“by 2 percent.” your eyes are made for search and rescue, they’ve seen through plenty of bad business deals, scams from slimy people who think your intellect lacks. you can’t help but see everything around you, and you can see sonar above you, trying to sabotage your mission.

“well, still means you had an easy time getting in.” he shrugs, perched from a building rooftop like a discount batman.

“yeah, but i guess harvard didn’t have many classes in stealth.” your eyes look up, locking with the pitch whiteness of sonars. he lets out a small screech and backs away from the ledge, scouting an escape route before you could fly up to him and rip his throat open.

sonar 1, you 2.

you hated being assigned on missions with him. he constantly ignored your ideas, going off and doing his own thing only to end up injured and with the villain getting away half the time.

robert had asked you to look after him once he came back from a particularly harsh mission and walked into the break room with his crisp white dress shirt coated in blood.

“is half of this blood even yours?” you hold up the shirt that was now halfway torn to pieces and dyed a bright crimson color which dripped across the linoleum floor.

“why do you wanna know?” sonar stands shirtless in the bathroom, crossing his arms over a few scars across his chest and the new gash that would certainly leave a mark.

you throw the shirt in the trash, picking up the small medkit on the wall and fluttering over to sonar, “i’m being nice, dipshit.”

you begin to take a few cotton balls out of the kit, followed by a disinfecting alcohol, this was gonna hurt like a bitch.

“it might sting-“ you get cut off my sonar leaning back on the counter, exposing his upper body to you and shutting his eyes tightly, but still looking away. did harvard have a gym? why did he look more… built than you’d expected?

you press the soaked cotton on the gash near his stomach, right above the nice dress pants he had adorned. you hear a soft hissing noise as sonar grimaced. you couldn’t help but feel bad.

you ease a few pieces of gauze covered by wrapping over the gash, watching as it soaked up the rest of the blood that was still flowing.

he admired your work in the mirror as you put away the emergency med kit SDN kept in the bathroom.

“you’re lucky you didn’t need stitches. that should do for now but just make sure you clean it.”

“hey,” his voice was low, quiet. too soft for him, or for what you knew of him, “thanks.”

before you could respond, he pushed past you, exiting the bathroom and probably heading to the locker room to get a change of clothes.

did…

did sonar just say thank you?

SHOULD I DO A PART 2 LMK…

[iinterstellaarr]

BRO PRETTY PLS SONAR X GN!READER RELATIONSHIP ANNIVERSARY HCS??

AND ANOTHER ONE!!

as i’ve said before, sonar doesn’t seem like one to be thoughtful, but he absolutely is! just in his own weird, special way.

you’d think he’d forget every anniversary since he’s never made a big deal about any sort of holiday before you two were dating, but he is laser precise on the date. has it down in his calendar MONTHS in advance.

but once the day rolls around, there is no grand declaration of love or breakfast in bed waiting for you, but a hand written note in his barely legible writing is sitting on your bedside table while you hear sonar humming to himself in the shower.

he had absolutely cornered robert (bc cmon, he pulled blonde blazer and invisigirl. he has to know SOMETHING.) before your anniversary asking for advice. “robbie! hypothetically, what would you get someone for an important event if you liked them a whole lot?”

he tried to cook! i mean, his diet is the food from the break room, whatever poor animal he can get his hands on, and that shitty chinese place around the corner, so an A for effort i suppose!

he ends up caving and just taking you to the VIP section in a very nice restaurant that you absolutely shouldn’t ask how he got access to in the first place.

he’s not one to get very sappy, but he loves teasing you on how you called him a, “creepy bat boy.” the first time you two met, not knowing he could hear you from across the room. despite it being a tease, he actually keeps that memory fond in his mind.

depending on how long you two have been dating for, he would wait for your anniversary to propose. half because he knows it’s a sweet idea and he has many of those, and half because he doesn’t want to have “two” anniversaries.

he’d get down on one knee after taking you to a romantic spot in the city or somewhere a bit further out, and say the stupidest shit that would’ve ruined the moment, if it didn’t fit him perfectly.

“how’d you feel about marrying a harvard graduate?”

“and a convicted felon.”

“let’s focus on the harvard thing..”

[iinterstellaarr]

pookie, i gotta request for ya

I need me some fluffy Sonar X Reader.. I'm talking booping his nose, feeling him up a little, cute aggression (let me bite that man), annoying/teasing him on purpose (out of love of <3) Honestly feel free to add anything you can think of about Sonar. I love his character and just want to read whatever you come up with 🫦

xoxo

oh my god i’d be SOO annoying to him. TYSM for putting these thoughts in my head

a bit +18, cuz i mean cmon. its sonar.

his fur is so soft (when he remembers to shower) so whenever he’s freshly out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, you’d need to mentally calm yourself at the sight of half naked sonar and help him blow dry his fur! he complains that, “my arms get tired, babe. i NEED you to do this.” when in reality he just likes the feeling of you combing through his fur with your fingers to get the hard to reach spots.

like i said in my hcs (read here!) his ears are mega sensitive to touch, so just the littlest pet gets him a bit worked up. massage his ears? he is pouncing on you like a man STARVED. honestly, any touch from you can get sonar VERY excited. sure, petting his soft fur is very calming for him but once you start scratching through it, sonar is gonna have to excuse himself to the bathroom to blow off a little steam.

if you met sonar at SDN, you couldn’t help but be a bit intimidated. his huge monster form is a bit scary at first, but once you really got to know him, it never stopped you from giving him a little boop! on the nose. the first time you two were out on a mission and you touched his nose, he was genuinely startled for a second before admitting to himself that, yeah you doing that was fucking adorable. (this is where his crush formed, source: trust me bro)

and don’t get me started on the cuteness aggression. he likes to pretend that he hates it when you oogle him like he’s some kinda lap dog, i mean he’s a harvard graduate for fucks sake! and yet, here he is letting his significant other make baby noises at him. sonar would NEVER let you do it around the Z-Team though, he has a “reputation” to uphold.

he is NASTY in bed. you’ve spent all day petting him and shoveling out little jabs that are, admittedly, all in good fun! some shit like “someone’s acting BATTY today!” followed by you smiling like an idiot and sonar just completely deadpan. but, even sonar has a limit. “you wanna act like a brat? then i’ll treat you like one.” OH BOY OH BOY

he gets jealous very easily. if you and sonar are having an on and off situation (cause, let’s be honest, you probably would be if you met him before SDN) he will somehow always find you, whether this is stalking or just him being protective, you haven’t decided yet. anyone who tries to flirt with you at some shabby bar will get a bats claw to the arm as he pulls them away and takes their spot. “so, how’ve you been?” “victor, he’s bleeding.” “what a shame.”

PLEASE call him sonar in bed. it feeds his ego, and he finds it so incredibly sexy. you two have dabbled in a, “hero saving a civilian” roleplay and he enjoyed it more than he’d like to admit.

he’d buy you and him some stupid matching shirts that say “my boyfriend is a harvard graduate” followed by him wearing a, “harvard graduate” shirt with an arrow pointing up to his face.

speaking of shirts, he loves when you wear his clothes. not his well tailored suits (that he just got from the dry cleaner so don’t touch them.) but his large t-shirts and pants. like i said, he’s pouncing on you (he’s a bit of a pouncer)

if you are fem, he would not discriminate on your chest size. if you are apart of the itty bitty titty committee or have genuine back pain from the size, he does not care. boobs are boobs, and he will be grabbing them.