#click4rainy

[click4rainy]

Texts with your Bat Boyfriend

👽: I got into dispatch. Heavily so. Anyway, Sonar is deffo my fav…

🖇️: Sonar x GN!Reader

☑️: Proof Read

⚠️:Flirty/Suggestive/Fluffy/Silly back and forth texting tehehe.

Victor 🦇💙:

so hypothetically

if i said i could hear your heartbeat from across the building

would that be romantic or restraining order territory

You:

Depends. What’s my heartbeat saying?

Victor 🦇💙:

it’s saying “wow my boyfriend is SO cool and handsome”

verrrry loudly by the way.

embarrassingly loud actually

You:

That’s my stomach growling, genius.

Victor 🦇💙:

…oh

well NOW i’m hearing your heartbeat skip because you think i’m cute when i’m wrong

checkmate

•••

Victor 🦇💙:

hey

You:

hey yourself

Victor 🦇💙:

you awake?

You:

clearly

Victor 🦇💙:

smart ass

You:

you texted me at 2am

what did you expect, poetry?

Victor 🦇💙:

maybe

You:

…

Victor 🦇💙:

got that debrief tomorrow

can’t sleep

You:

and naturally you thought

“i know who else should be awake and suffering”

Victor 🦇💙:

suffering’s a strong word

You:

it’s 2am

Victor 🦇💙:

fine

i thought about you and my hands got busy

Read✔️

Victor 🦇💙:

texting

i meant texting

get your mind out of the gutter

You:

oh my god

Victor 🦇💙:

…

unless

You:

go to BED

Victor 🦇💙:

can’t

keep thinking about last week

You:

what about last week

Victor 🦇💙:

you know what

You:

say it 😏

Victor 🦇💙:

the thing you did

with your, yk….

You:

my what? 👀

Victor 🦇💙:

you’re enjoying this

You:

extremely

keep going

Victor 🦇💙:

your mouth

when you bit your lip during the briefing

while looking directly at me, being all hot n shit. Yk what you were doing.

You:

Ohhhh that??? that was concentration

Victor 🦇💙:

that was targeted psychological warfare

You:

maybe you’re just distracted easily

Victor 🦇💙:

only by you

Read✔️

Victor 🦇💙:

too much?

You:

no

not enough actually

Victor 🦇💙:

yeah?

You:

yeah

Victor 🦇💙:

what are you wearing

You:

are you serious…

Victor 🦇💙:

Yes.

You:

you’re ridiculous

Victor 🦇💙:

that’s not an answer

You:

your shirt

the one you “forgot” here

Victor 🦇💙:

jesus

You:

problem?

Victor 🦇💙:

big one

getting bigger actually

Read✔️

Victor 🦇💙:

[Typing…]

Victor 🦇💙:

what

you started it with that lip thing

You:

the lip thing you’ve been thinking about for a week.

Victor 🦇💙:

among other things

You:

what other things??

Victor 🦇💙:

the sound you make when i

nah never mind

You:

when you WHAT

Victor 🦇💙:

debrief’s in six hours

should probably sleep

You:

you can’t just do that SONAR

Victor 🦇💙:

sweet dreams

try not to think about me too much

You:

I hate you

Victor 🦇💙:

no you don’t

You:

...no i don’t 🙄

Victor 🦇💙:

there it is

You:

be safe tomorrow

come back

Victor 🦇💙:

always do

got something to come back to now

You:

sap

Victor 🦇💙:

only for you

You:

lucky me

Victor 🦇💙:

lucky me

[Typing…]

Victor 🦇💙:

Wish I was there

You:

me too

Victor 🦇💙:

rain check on the continuation of this conversation?

You:

that’s a long way to say you wanna see me

Victor 🦇💙:

i wanna see you

You:

in person this time

Victor 🦇💙:

in person, duh.

no clothes.

You:

goodNIGHT

Victor 🦇💙:

that’s not a no

You:

...no

it’s not a no 🙈

Victor 🦇💙:

fuck

now i’m really not sleeping

You:

good, suffer with me

Victor 🦇💙:

worth it

night, beautiful

You:

night, you menace

[click4rainy]

I saw that requests are open. I was hoping if you could please write a Robert Robertson going down on a afab reader as a way to wake them up. Like reader is dreaming like normal, then suddenly they feel a tongue going to work between their thighs. Thank you if you read this and take the time to do this. ☮️

Breakfast in Bed.

👽: ouiii I gotchuuu!!

🖇️:Robert Robertson x gn!reader

☑️: Proof Read

⚠️: NSFW/SMUT/AFAB Reader/drunk hookup aftermath/Pussy eating/cunnilingus/finger fucking/uhhh he doesnt expect anything in return/it’s a quickie/enjoyy :3

★ You’re at the bar again, the counter sticky beneath your fingers, the music too loud to think. Coupé’s voice cuts through it all, low and teasing, she’s plastered. Hand brushing yours when she reaches for her drink. You say something clever, something you probably shouldn’t, and her grin lingers long enough that your chest goes a little warm.

★ Then the lights blur. Someone’s spinning you around, There’s a hand at your waist, a whisper against your ear—and for a second, you feel the words catch fire between you.

★ Everything shimmers, slows. The song shifts, dissolvin into a hum that feels almost like a heartbeat beneath your ribs. His eyes flash in the dark, intense and knowing, and he says your name like a secret. Then—

★ Your eyes shot open, you were damp—in a cold sweat. Head buzzing heart racing and—

★ “Mmm, morning.” You throw the blankets off of you, and see Robert Robertson between your fucking legs. There’s no way you brought him home from the bar last night…(you for sure did.)

★ His eyes lock onto yours, a smirk curling his lips as he hovers just inches from your core. his warm breath ghosts over your folds, already slick from whatever subconscious heat the night stirred up. Fuuuck.

★ You blink, trying to piece together the blur of shots and stolen touches at the bar, but Robert doesn’t give you time to overthink. His hands slide up your thighs, firm and unhurried, parting them wider as he dips his head lower.

★ “Shh, stay still,” he murmurs, voice tired and playful. His tongue flicks out, tracing a slow, deliberate line along your slit, tasting the wetness that’s equal parts dream residue and building arousal.

★ You gasp, fingers twisting into the sheets, your body arching instinctively toward him. He chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending a jolt straight to your clit, and then he’s lapping at you in earnest—broad, flat strokes that cover every inch, savoring you like you’re the first meal of the day.

★ Roberts grip tightens on your hips, pulling you closer until your ass lifts slightly off the mattress, your pussy pressed flush against his mouth. He devours you with lazy confidence, tongue circling your entrance before pushing inside, fucking you shallowly with it while his nose nudges your swollen clit.

★ The sensation is overwhelming, his stubble scraping lightly against your inner thighs. You whimper, one hand flying to his hair, threading through the dark strands as he works you over.

★ He pulls back just enough to tease, lips glistening as he looks up at you again. “Taste even better than I remember from last night,” he says, voice low and teasing, before sucking your clit between his lips. He rolls it gently at first, then harder, alternating with flicks of his tongue that make your toes curl.

★ Your hips buck, chasing the pressure, and he obliges by sliding one hand free to join the fun. His fingers—two of them—press against your cunt, easing in alongside the wet slide of his tongue.

★ They curl upward immediately, finding that spot inside you that makes fireworks burst behind your eyelids. He pumps them steadily, twisting juust right, while his mouth stays latched onto your clit, humming softly and making you buzz.

★ The room fills with the obscene sounds of it—your essence coating his fingers, the wet smacks of his lips, your breathy moans mixing with his muffled groans of approval. He adds a third finger, stretching you fuller, thrusting deeper as his tongue laps relentlessly, pushing you higher with every flick.

★ Your thighs tremble around his head, the tension coiling tight in your belly. “Robert—fuck, please,” you manage, voice breaking on the plea. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, instead, he sucks harder, fingers crooking faster, hitting that ridge over and over until your walls clench around him.

★ The orgasm crashes through you like a wave, hot and aggressive—your pussy pulses, gushing juices over his hand as you cry out, back bowing off the bed. He rides it out with you, tongue lapping softer, fingers slowing to milk every last shudder from your body.

★ When you finally collapse, boneless and panting, Robert withdraws his fingers with a final, teasing curl. He licks them clean, eyes never leaving yours, that knowing smirk back in place. Then he straightens up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like it’s no big deal.

★ “Thanks for breakfast in bed, sweetheart. But shit, I’m late for work.” He stands, grabbing his shirt from the floor, casual as if he didn’t just wreck you. “Catch you later?”he’s out the door, leaving you absolutely sated and warm in the rumpled sheets. Holy shit. That was amazing…

👽: Bar Recap Here//🩶

[click4rainy]

please do anything with Royd. He’s so big and strong and handsome and sexy and I knowwwww he talks you through it I knowwwwww he’s just the absolute best at giving aftercare PLEASE RAINY I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO SO VERY MUCH!!! (We are very low on the royd fics and I know you’re one to bring light to his amazingness.)

~☎️

Big Lover//Royd Boyfriend Head Canons

👽: I’m honored! lol. I hope I did his character justiceee

🖇️: Royd x gn!reader

☑️: Proof Read

⚠️: NSFW/SEXUAL THEMES/Just a bunch of head canons on how Roy would be as a lover Tehehe/I need a hug from him/Need him to hold me, cradle me, bend me over and—ENJOYYYY :3

SFW

★ Every time Roy puts on those reading glasses to tinker with some circuit board or manual, you catch him peeking over the frames at you. “What?” he’ll say, grinning. “Jus’ making sure you still there.” Like you’d ever leave when he looks at you like that.

★ He doesn’t just call you “baby.” It’s “baby girl,(boy/honey)” “sunshine,” “my sweet thing,” sometimes all three in one sentence when he’s feeling particularly soft. And when he’s working? You hear him muttering to his tech, “C’mon now, don’t be like that—” in the same gentle tone he uses with you.

★ After you kept stealing his hoodie (the worn one that smells like coconut oil and motor grease), he bought five more. Different colors. Left them everywhere. “So you always got one,” he explains, scratching the back of his neck, “even when I’m wearing one too, yeah?”

★ You have ritualistic market visits. Roy insists on going every Saturday, your hand tucked in his much larger one, that tattoo on full display. He knows all the vendors by name. Buys you fresh flowers weekly. “Orchids today? Or you like da plumeria?” And he carries everything, won’t let you touch a single bag.

★ When he passes you in the kitchen, the hallway, anywhere really—his hand finds your head automatically. Sometimes it’s a kiss pressed to your crown, sometimes just his palm resting there for a heartbeat. Grounding himself. Reminding himself you’re real.

★ You’ll find him at 2 am, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back, fixing some gadget with a focus that’s almost reverent. When you pad in sleepy eyed, he pulls you into his lap without looking away from his work. Keeps one arm locked around your waist. “Go back sleep if you like,” he murmurs. “I gotchu.”

★ This man’s camera roll is seventy percent you. Candid shots mostly, you reading, laughing, sleeping in his shirt. When caught, he’s unapologetic. “What? You pretty. I like lookin’ at pretty things.”

★ He’s so fun and whimsy with you. First time thunder rolled through, he built you a blanket fort without being asked. Fairy lights he’d been “meaning to install” suddenly appeared. He crawled in beside you, this giant man folding himself small, and distracted you from the hectic storm outside with banter and stories from his past.

★ You get a monthly allowance. And it’s fatttt. He insists even if you make your own money. And still insists on buying you things, having you save your money for you. He’ll pay for your nails. (If that’s what you like.) Take you out to expensive restaurants and eat with amazing views. If you wanna have a fun night and go clubbing he’s basically your personal body guard. He’s great at extravagant. It’s easy. But he’s also sentimental.

★ He’ll buy the book you mentioned once. The specific tea or coffee you like but can’t always find. A weighted blanket because he noticed you sleep better when he’s holding you. (It’s especially nice when he’s out working.)

★ When you talk, everything stops. Phone down. Tools down. Eyes fixed on you like you’re reciting scripture. And he remembers everything—your best friends promotion, that song you hummed Tuesday, the outfit you glanced at while out. All the small things really matter.

•••

NSFW

★ Those huge, rough hands that can manipulate the smallest wires, the most delicate circuits? They know exactly how much pressure, where to press, when to be gentle and when to grip hard enough to leave memory shaped shadows on your hips. “Tell me if too much, yeah?” Even when you both know you’ll never say stop.

★ His accent deffo gets thicker. Especially when he’s inside you, words spilling against your throat. “So good fo’ me—das it, das my baby—”

★ Roy doesn’t just compliment, he worships aloud. A running commentary of “Look how perfect you stay,” “You know how beautiful? Nah, you don’t even know,” “Gonna take care of you so good, baby, I promise—” until you’re dizzy with it.

★ Cockwarming. Elaboration? Sometimes after, he just… stays. Keeps you connected, pulls you onto his chest, idly plays with your hair. “Not lettin’ go yet.” Like the separation physically hurts. And when you clench around him—involuntary, aftershocks—his breath hitches, “Shoots, baby, tryin’ kill me?”

★ He’s strong as fuck. He knows this. And enjoys it. There’s something about being able to maneuver you exactly where he wants you that makes him almost feral.

★ Lifting you against walls or holding you suspended, one arm banded across your waist, back against his chest while he shoves his free hand down your pants, thick fingers fucking into you. “So light, baby, like nothing. Can do this all night, yeah? You like?”

★ He joins you in the shower “just to help.” Runs soap slick hands over every inch of you. Presses you against cool tile, water pourinh over both of you. “Gotta make sure you all nice and clean” You’re the cleanest person alive by the time he’s done.

★ One time, he took you down to the shore after dark. Blanket. Stars. His hands under your shirt while waves crashed nearby. “Nobody around but us, baby.” The ocean was loud enough to swallow your sounds. He took full advantage.

★ Roy leaves marks. Thoughtful about placement, where only he’ll see them, where they’ll peek out just enough to remind you. Sucks bruises into your inner thighs with the same focused patience he uses on his tech. “Jus’ one more, promise.” (It’s never just one more.)

★ Aftercare Isn’t Optional. The man who takes you apart so thoroughly is meticulous about putting you back together. Always. Warm cloth, cold water, gentle hands checking in.

★ “You good? Need anything? Tell me true now.” Wraps you in his arms like a shield after, nose buried in your hair, “Did so good fo’ me. Always so good.”

[click4rainy]

so like 🧍‍♂️

Meeting Sonar at a bar and hes there with the Z team, and you think he's hot. and suddely a big demon woman Malevola comes along. and you get to bottom along with Sonar for the hot demon I LOVE Malevola and Sonar as a duo

A Bat and a Demon Walk Into a Bar

👽: oh pookie this prompt is so HOTTT UGHHH!!!

🖇️: Sonar x gn!reader x Malevola

☑️: Proof Read

⚠️: NSFW/SMUT/EXPLICIT AF/AFAB reader/kinda long oh well/it’s your first threesome/two bottoms one top/pussy eating/blowjob/finger fucking/dick riding/face riding/threesome activities frfr/ya’ll break the bed/sorry if I left anything out/enjoyyyy :3

★ The bar’s louuud. Too loud, maybe, but in that good way where you can pretend the bass is your second heartbeat and no one will notice if you stare a little too long at the guy leaning against the counter.

★ You weren’t planning to fall into someone’s orbit tonight. But then again, you never really plan these things, do you? They just happen—like tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, except instead of concrete, it’s a six foot bat.

★ He’s tall—really tall if you count the ears. And yeah, you’re counting the ears. Because why not. Dark fur, sleek build, dressed like he walked out of a magazine that knows exactly how hot he is. His posture’s relaxed. His eyes already on you. Have been for the last fifteen minutes.

★ You look away. Look back. He’s still watching.

★ Shit.

★ You take a sip of your drink like that’ll somehow save you from whatever’s about to happen, but it’s too late because he’s already pushing off the bar, weaving through the crowd with the kind of confidence that makes your stomach do something stupid.

★ When he stops in front of you, he doesn’t smile. Doesn’t need to.

★ “You’ve been staring,” he says. Flat. Blunt. Like he’s reading the weather forecast. Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “I—ha—no, I wasn’t—”

★ “You were.” He tilts his head, ears twitching just slightly. “It’s fine. I get it.”

★ “Oh, do you now?”

★ “Yeah.” He leans one elbow on the bar beside you, close enough that you can smell whatever cologne he’s wearing—something dark and woody that should be illegal. “I’m very stare-able.”

★ You laugh before you can stop yourself. “Stare-able?”

★ “It’s a word.”

★ “It’s really not.”

★ “Harvard would disagree.”

★ “Oh, Harvard,” you repeat, biting back a grin. “Well, excuse me, professor. Didn’t realize I was in the presence of academia.”

★ His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes—amusement, maybe. Or interest. Hard to tell with the monotone. “Sonar,” he says, offering a hand.

★ You take it. His grip is warm, firm, and lingers just a second longer than it should. Long enough for your pulse to forget what rhythm it’s supposed to follow.

★ “Nice to meet you, Sonar.”

★ “Likewise.” He flags down the bartender with two fingers, orders another drink without asking what you want, and somehow gets it exactly right when it arrives. “So. You come here often, or is tonight just lucky for me?”

★ “Wow.” You take the drink, shaking your head. “Did you actually just use that line?”

★ “Did it work?”

★ “…A little.”

★ “Then yeah. I used it.” He takes a sip of his own drink,something amber and strong, and leans back just enough to look you over. Not sleazy. Just… thorough. “You’re fun.”

★ “You don’t even know me.”

★ “Don’t need to. I can tell.”

★ “Oh, can you?”

★ “Yeah. It’s the way you’re sitting. All relaxed n’ shit—but you’re ready. Like you’re waiting for something interesting to happen.” He pauses, tilts his head. “You think I’m interesting?” He asks.

★ You meet his gaze head on, and there it is again, that pull, that thing you can’t name but can definitely feel. “Jury’s still out.”

★ “Fair.”

★ The conversation spills out easy after that. Too easy, maybe, like you’ve known him longer than ten minutes. He’s got this way of talking that’s dry as hell but somehow makes everything sound like an inside joke you’re both in on. You learn he’s part of some team—the Z Team, he calls it, and yeah, they do save the world sometimes, but mostly they help people, just try not to die and occasionally succeed.

★ You look over his shoulder, see a very, very short man down a pint while a woman in silver claps excitedly. Surrounded by several others you assume to be apart of that team.

★ “Sounds glamorous,” you say, eyes flicking back to him.

★ “It’s really not. Lot of running. Lot of yelling. Someone’s always bleeding.”

★ “Sexy.”

★ “Right?” He deadpans it so perfectly you almost choke on your drink.

★ You’re mid laugh when a shadow falls over both of you.

★ A big shadow.

★ You look up.

★ And up.

★ And—Oh. She’s… tall. Like, absurdly tall. Noticeably taller than Sonar. with horns that curl up from her head like a crown and a tail that moves behind her like it has a mind of its own. Muscles that could probably crack a building in half. Skin that shimmers somewhere between crimson and ruby in the bar light.

★ And she’s smiling.

★ “There you are, you little shit,” she says, voice thick with an Australian accent that somehow makes the insult sound affectionate. She claps a hand on Sonar’s shoulder hard enough that he doesn’t even flinch, just rolls his eyes.

★ “Malevola.”

★ “Don’t Malevola me. You said you’d wait for me at the table, and instead, I find you over here chatting up—” She stops, gaze sliding to you, and her grin widens. “Well, hello.”

★ Your brain short circuits.

★ Is this his girlfriend? Did you just flirt with someone’s—

★ “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, already half standing. “I didn’t know he was—”

★ “Relax, darl.” Malevola waves a clawed hand, laughing. “You’re fine. Sonar’s single. Tragically so.”

★ “Debatable,” Sonar mutters into his drink.

★ Malevola ignores him, sticking out a hand that could probably bench-press you without breaking a sweat. “Malevola. And you are?”

★ You give your name, still a little dazed, and she shakes your hand with surprising gentleness.

★ “Lovely. First round’s on me.” She flags down the bartender, orders three shots of something that sounds vaguely illegal, and slides onto the stool on your other side like she’s been here the whole time.

★ Suddenly, you’re sandwiched between a bat and a demon, and the air feels about ten degrees warmer.

★ “So,” Malevola says, leaning an elbow on the bar and propping her chin in her hand. “Sonar here borin’ ya to death yet?”

★ “Not yet.” You smile lightheartedly.

★ “Miracle.” She grins. “He’s got, like, two jokes. Both of them are about tits.”

★ “Three,” Sonar corrects.

★ “Oh, sorry. Three.”

★ You laugh despite yourself, and Malevola winks at you. There’s something disarming about her, like she’s the kind of person who’d fight god and then buy him a beer after. The shots arrive. You take one. They take the others.

★ “To new friends,” Malevola says, raising hers.

★ “Cute new friends,” Sonar adds.

★ You clink glasses, and the liquor burns all the way down.

★ The conversation shifts after that, looser, warmer, like the three of you have been friends for years instead of minutes. Malevola tells a story about a mission gone wrong that involved a helicopter, a very angry dispatcher, and Sonar’s inability to keep his mouth shut. Sonar counters with something about Malevola punching through a wall because he offended her by commenting on her cooking. Unseriously, might we add.

★ “It was a good meal,” she insists. “It was fine.” Sonar tests.

★ “You ate three plates.”

★ “I was hungry.” (He knows that shit was bussin.)

★ You’re laughing so hard your ribs hurt, and somewhere in the middle of it, you realize you’ve stopped keeping track of where you end and they begin. Sonar’s arm brushes yours when he reaches for his drink. Malevola’s tail curls lazily near your ankle, not touching but close.

★ “So,” Malevola says eventually, eyes glinting with mischief. “You seein’ anyone?”

★ The question lands like a match in dry grass.

★ “I—no. Not really.”

★ “Good.” She exchanges a look with Sonar. It’s quick. Loaded.

★ Your pulse kicks up.

★ “Why’s that good?” you ask, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

★ Sonar sets his drink down, finally cracking the faintest smirk. “Because we’re about to make your night a hell of a lot more interesting.”

★ “Or your year,” Malevola adds. “Depends how you look at it.”

★ You glance between them, heart doing something Olympic level in your chest. “What are you—”

★ “Threesome,” Sonar says. Blunt as ever.

★ Malevola laughs at your expression, reaching over to pat your knee. “Subtle, isn’t he?”

★ “I—” Your brain’s still catching up. “Wait, are you two—?”

★ “Best friends, practically.” Malevola says easily. “With benefits. Very good benefits.”

★ “Very good,” Sonar agrees.

★ “And we were wondering,” Malevola continues, leaning in just enough that you can see your own reflection in her eyes. “if you’d like to join us tonight.”

★ The world narrows to three points—her hand on your knee, Sonar’s gaze locked on yours, and the wild, reckless yes clawing its way up your throat.

★ You should say no. You should probably think about this, huh? But thinking’s overrated when a demon’s smiling at you like you’re the best thing she’s seen all week and a bat’s looking at you like he already knows your answer.

★ “I…” You swallow. “I’ve never—”

★ “We’ll take care of you,” Malevola says, and it’s not a promise. It’s a guarantee.

★ Sonar finishes his drink, stands, and offers you his hand.

★ “You coming?”

★ You’re following behind, almost tripping over your own feet.

•••

★ The hotel room door closes behind you with a soft click, and suddenly the air’s different. Thicker. Charged. Malevola’s tail flicks behind her as she kicks off her boots, grinning over her shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable, darl. We don’t bite.”

★ “Much,” Sonar adds, already shrugging out of his jacket.

★ You stand there, heart hammering, trying to remember how your lungs work. Malevola notices. Of course she does. She crosses the room in three strides, stopping just in front of you, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet her eyes.

★ “Hey,” she says softly. “You good?”

★ You nod. “Yeah. Just—”

★ “Nervous?”

★ “Maybe.” You flush. Embarrassed.

★ “That’s okay.” Her hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek. “We’ve got you.” And then she kisses you.

★ It’s not what you expected, not rough or demanding. It’s slow. Warm. Like she’s got all the time in the world and she’s choosing to spend it on you.

★ When she pulls back, you’re breathless. “Still good?” she murmurs. “Yeah.” You answer

★ “alright then.”

★ Sonar’s behind you now, you didn’t even hear him move, and his hands settle on your hips, light but steady.

★ “This okay?” he asks, voice low near your ear.

★ You lean back into him, and that’s all the answer he needs. His breath is warm against your neck as his fingers trace the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to skim the skin of your stomach. Goosebumps prickle up, you’re caught between Malevola’s steady gaze and the solid press of Sonar behind you. Her tail curls around just to trace along your thigh, caressing. Up. Down.

★ She leans in again, capturing your lips in another slow kiss, her tongue sliding against yours with lazy confidence. You melt into it, hands finding her waist, feeling the heat radiating from her red skin.

★ She tastes like smoke and spice, her hand sliding from your jaw to the nape of your neck, holding you steady as she deepens it. Sonar’s breath ghosts your ear, his fingers digging just a bit into your hips, pulling you back against the hard line of his cock pressing through his pants.

★ You break the kiss with a gasp, and Malevola chuckles, low and rumbling. “See? Not so scary.” Her eyes flick to Sonar, and she reaches past you, grabbing his shirt collar to yank him in for his turn. Their mouths meet over your shoulder, rougher than yours was, Sonar’s snout brushing her cheek as he groans into it. You watch, heart pounding.

★ Sonar pulls back first, his white eyes meeting yours, an almost shy grin splitting his face. “Your turn to watch?” he teases.

★ You laugh, breathless, shaking your head. “S-sorry.” You awkwardly shift between them, trying hard not to be a third wheel…Malevola’s grin widens, her tail curling around your thigh, the tip brushing upward teasingly.

★ “Bi panic hittin’ ya already?” she murmurs, voice thick with amusement. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll ease you into it.”

★ She guides you both toward the bed, her hands firm but gentle, stripping off your shirt first. Cool air hits your skin, but Sonar’s warmth is right there, his mouth finding your shoulder, kissing softly as Malevola strips you completely. You arch into it, fingers fumbling with Sonar’s belt while she works your jeans down your legs. Laughter bubbles up when you nearly trip, Sonar steadying you with a snort.

★ “Smooth,” he says as he kicks off his pants, cock springing free—thick, veined, already leaking at the tip.

★ Malevola sheds her clothes last, revealing her red skin stretched over toned muscle, horns curving up from her forehead, tail swishing. Your eyes widen at the sight. Holy shit she’s ripped…and she catches it, your admiration. “Like what you see?” She smirks.

★ “Fuck, yeah,” you whisper, and Sonar echoes it, his hand wrapping around his own length, stroking slowly as he stares.

★ She pushes you both onto the bed, the mattress dipping under your weight. “On your backs, darls. Let me take care of you.”

★ You comply, heart pounding, as she climbs between you. Her tail wraps around Sonar’s ankle, pulling his legs apart while her hands roam your body, pinching your nipples until you whimper. Sonar watches, his chest heaving, and when Malevola’s mouth descends on your breasts/chest, sucking hard, he reaches out—hesitant at first—his fingers brushing your arm.

★ “Can I...?” he asks, voice cracking a little.

★ You nod, grabbing his hand, interlacing your fingers. The touch grounds you, but then Malevola shifts, her tail flicking up to tease Sonar’s inner thigh, and he jolts, laughing in surprise. “Holy shit, that’s—“

★ “Sensitive?” she finishes, grinning against your skin. “Good. Means I can make you squirm.”

★ She works you both with deliberate slowness, kissing down your stomach while her hand pumps Sonar’s cock, thumb circling the head. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but the nerves quickly melt away when Malevola fucks her tongue deeper into your cunt. And when she pulls Sonar closer, guiding his hand, freeing it from yours to trace your thigh, encouraging him to touch, you invite it.

★ His fingers tremble as they slide toward your pussy, dipping in alongside her tongue, the position slightly awkward as you shift close to him, the both of you still on your backs for her. You moan, hips bucking, and he freezes. “Like that?”

★ “Yes—fuck,” you gasp. Malevola lifts her head, lips glistening. “That’s right.” She says encouragingly, moving to Sonar. Her hands are on him before he can settle, She wraps her lips around the head of his cock, sucking hard and deep, her tongue swirling along the underside as she bobs her head. Sonar groans, but Malevola shoots him a glare. “Finger them, mate. Make em’ wet for me.”

★ His hand continues with doubled effort. You gasp as he pumps two fingers in and out, curling them against your inner walls. The rhythm matches Malevola’s mouth on his cock—wet, messy sounds filling the room as she takes him deeper, her cheeks hollowing with each pull. Your hips buck against his hand, pleasure building as you watch her devour him, her golden eyes locked on yours.

★ But suddenly, Malevola pulls off with a pop, strings of saliva connecting her lips to his glistening cock. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, smirking. “Enough of that. Sonar, pull em’ over your lap.” She stands suddenly, moving to the side of the bed and crawling over Sonar’s face.

★ Sonar doesn’t hesitate. His arms wrap around your waist, hauling you across his body until you’re draped over his lap, nearly straddling him. He makes sure you hover just above his cock, not dropping you onto it just yet. You’re dripping onto him. Literally out of anticipation.

★ Malevola climbs on, straddling his face, looking right at you, she grips his shaft, lining it up with your soaked entrance, and that’s when he lets you sink down. hard. “Fuck, yes,” she moans while watching, her hands moving along his stomach, dragging her nails and leaving red lines. she starts to grind against his face, and you start to bounce on his cock.

★ His hands grip your hips to steady you, letting Malevola absolutely suffocate him. his dick hits that sweet spot inside you with every single thrust. the bed creaking under the motion. Malevola reaches forward, her fingers finding your nipple, pinching it sharply. You yelp, the sting shooting straight to your core, grinding down harder against Sonar.. “That’s it, love,” she growls, leaning over you to capture your mouth in a harsh kiss. Her tongue invades, biting your lower lip as she grinds down on Sonar’s face even harder.

★ She breaks the kiss, her breath hot against your ear. “Now, spell my name on his cock love.” You twist slightly, obeying—M, then A, tracing the letters wetly while she watches, her free hand reaching between her thighs to rub her clit. Sonar moans beneath you two, his cock throbbing inside you as the bed frame groans louder.

★ Malevola suddenly lifts off him, barely, his snout slick and shining. Giving him a second of air. Before dropping back down. He laps at her folds hungrily as she rocks her hips. One hand slaps onto her thigh while his other still holds you in place. Her hands roam to your chest again, pinching both nipples this time, rolling them between her fingers until you whimper.

★ She pulls you up by the hair, crashing her lips against yours in another brutal kiss, teeth clashing, tongues battling as she rides his face. Her juices smear across his furry cheeks, his muffled groans vibrating through her. “Spell it again,” she demands between kisses, lightly laughing, guiding your mouth back to her own chest. “With your tongue this time.” with flicks and swirls, you eagerly listen. the humiliation mixing with heat as she watches, her own climax nearly over the edge.

★ The bed shakes violently now, the headboard banging against the wall. Malevola’s moans turn to cries, her body shuddering as she cums hard on Sonar’s face, her tail curling around his ear and tugging mindlessly while flooding his mouth. He bucks his hips uselessly, finally coming undone. Whimpering between her legs.

★ You cum immediately after, soaking his thighs in a messy fashion. And in the frenzy, you all collapse in a tangle of limbs, panting and sweaty.

★ Then—a sharp crack—the bed frame splinters beneath you, the mattress dipping suddenly into the broken supports. You all tumble into the sag, laughing breathlessly.

★ Malevola pulls you both closer, sandwiching herself between you two. her tone playful. “Well, bugger me, we broke the bloody bed. Best threesome ever, eh?” Sonar chuckles, nuzzling your neck, and you can’t help but grin, the three of you cuddling in the wreckage like it’s the coziest nest in the world. (They definitely made your entire year.)

[click4rainy]

Could you pretty pretty please with a VERY BIG CHERRY ON TOP write NFSW of waterboy/hermy x fem!reader..? (๑❛ᴗ❛๑)

I NEED TO DOMINATE HIMMM

Sopping Wet Mess.

👽: yess!! Here you go!

🖇️: Waterboy (Herm) x fem!reader

☑️: Proof Read

⚠️: NSFW/SMUT/afab reader/he’s a begging (low key self deprecating) pathetic, stammering mess/you top him/he cries/enjoyyy :3

★ You straddle Herms hips, his body slick and glistening under you. He’s always like this, always a sopping wet mess for you, clothes clinging to his skin, and with no clothes? he just soaks everything through anyways. it’s his curse and his gift, truly. but right now, it’s just making everything messier, hotter as you position yourself over his hard cock, pulling his shirt off of him and flinging it to the floor carelessly.

★ He looks up at you with wide, desperate eyes, his chest heaving. “P-please,” he stutters, his voice breaking already. “I-I need you. So bad.” His hands twitch at his sides, wanting to touch but knowing better than to without your permission. Water beads on his forehead, trickling down his temples.

★ You smirk, gripping the base of his cock—thick and throbbing, slick not just from his powers but from the precum leaking steadily. You lower yourself slowly, teasing the head against your slit, feeling him buck weakly beneath you. “Beg properly,” you command, your voice firm.

★ “I’m—am begging~” he whimpers, his words tumbling out in a pathetic rush. “F-fuck—fuck me, please. Use me.” His face flushes red, a mix of shame and arousal, as more water slicks his skin, making him glisten.

★ Satisfied, you sink down onto him, taking his cock inch by inch into your cunt. He gasps, a choked stutter escaping his lips, “Oh fuh—god, y-you’re so—s-so, mmf—f-fuck.” His hands clench the sheets, knuckles white, as you bottom out. The wetness from his body makes every slide smooth as you start to rock your hips.

★ You ride him hard, grinding down to feel him hit that spot inside you, your hands pressing against his wet chest for leverage. He thrashes beneath you, incoherent babble spilling from his mouth. “Please, har—harder.” He hiccups. “I-I’m sorry, I-I’m such a m-mess. D-don’t stop.” Tears well in his eyes already, not from pain but from the overwhelming need, his body trembling as you bounce on his cock.

★ His stuttering grows worse with each thrust, his pathetic whines music to your ears. He bites his lip, trying to hold back, but you clench around him deliberately, drawing a sob from his throat. Water drips from his hair onto the pillow, his skin slippery under your palms as you pin him down.

★ “Not yet,” you sing song, slowing your pace to torture him, rolling your hips in circles that make his cock twitch inside you. He cries out, a broken stutter. “Mmf—please, I n-need to—to cum. I’m—I can’t—can’t~” His eyes squeeze shut, tears spilling over now, tracking down his cheeks to mix with the water on his dewy face.

★ You pick up the speed again, riding him relentlessly, squeezing him as you chase your own release. He unravels completely beneath you, an absolute wreck. “use my cock, I-I’m pathetic, please jus’let me—

★ His words dissolve into sobs, trying everything he knows in the book that would usually grant him permission to cum. his body arching up as you feel him swell inside you. You grant mercy. And finally, you give the order, “okay baby, okay.” He breaks with a wail, his cock pulsing as he shoots thick ropes of cum deep inside you. Tears stream freely down his face, his whole body shaking in sobs of ecstasy. he chokes out between cries.

★ You keep riding through his orgasm, milking every last drop, until you’re clenching around him in your own climax, waves of pleasure crashing over you both.

★ The buzz fades, you slow your movements, gently lifting yourself off him with a soft, wet sound. Cum dripping from you, mixing with the slick water on his skin, but you don’t care—you lean down to kiss his tear streaked face.

★ “Shh, my sweet boy,” you murmur against his cheek, your voice soft now. You slide off him completely and gather him into your arms, pulling his trembling body against your chest. He’s still sobbing quietly, his face buried in your neck, wet hair sticking to your skin as you stroke his back in slow, soothing circles.

★ “You did sooo good.” you whisper, pressing kisses to his forehead, his eyelids, the tip of his nose. “So perfect for me. so proud of you.” Your fingers comb through his damp hair, untangling the strands gently while he clings to you, his breaths hitching as the cries taper off into sniffles. You reach for a nearby towel, soft and absorbent, and start patting him dry, starting with his face, wiping away the tears and water with careful strokes. Cupping his face and kissing his forehead more firmly this time. He manages a pathetic smile before nuzzling against you.

[click4rainy]

Dispatch request! Flambae getting flustered over oblivious masc!Reader and everyone in the team is making fun of it!

Stupid, Hot Idiot…

👽: god he’s so cuntyyyy. here you go :3 I made you a dispatcher because it just kinda felt rightttt💞

🖇️: Flambae x masc!Reader

☑️: Proof Read

⚠️: SFW/repressed emotions/clueless crush/he totally “hates” you/romantic tension disguised as hatred/ego bruising?/probably second hand embarrassment/but it’s COOL ITS CUTE!! Nice little ending. I think. RAHHH.

Break Room//Tuesday, 11:47 AM

★ The coffee machine is gurgling like it’s dying. Again. “Man, think this things on its last leg…” You mumble. Flambae doesn’t look up when you speak—just keeps scrolling through his phone with that expression he always wears. The one that says I’m better than this place, better than this job, better than you.

★ “Morning,” you say, because you always do.

★ His jaw tightens. “It’s almost noon.”

★ “Fair point.” You grab a mug from the cabinet, the one with the faded SDN logo. “Coffee?”

★ “Do I look like I need your charity?”

★ You blink. Glance at the empty cup in front of him. “I mean, I was making some anyway, so—”

★ “I don’t want your fucking coffee.”

★ “Cool, cool.” You pour yourself a cup. Steam curls between you. Then—because the silence feels too sharp—you pour a second mug and slide it across the counter toward him. “Just in case you change your mind.” He stares at the mug like it personally offended him.

★ From the doorway, Sonars voice cuts in, smooth and amused. “Wow. Riveting. Is this what foreplay looks like now?”

★ You nearly choke on your coffee.

★ Flambae’s hand ignites, just a flicker of flame licking across his knuckles before he snuffs it out. “Shut the fuck up, Sonar.”

★ “Touchy.” Sonar grins, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “You know, most people just say ‘thanks.’”

★ “Most people aren’t insufferable.”

★ “And yet,” Sonar says, eyes flicking meaningfully between you and Flambae, “here we are.”

★ You’re not sure what he means by that. You sip your coffee. It tastes like burnt rubber and regret, which is to say—normal. Flambae grabs the mug you poured for him and storms out. Sonar watches him go, then looks at you. “You’re killing him, you know.”

★ “Huh?”

★ “Nothing. Forget it.” He’s laughing as he leaves. You finish your coffee alone, wondering if maybe you should’ve used the good creamer.

•••

Report Massacre//Wednesday, 12:15 PM

★ You find your incident report on your desk. Shredded.

★ Not just torn—shredded. Confetti style. Cute. Someone took time with this. Artistic, almost. Flambae’s watching from across the room, arms crossed, chin up. Waiting.

★ You blink at the paper snow. “Oh man.”

★ “Yeah. Oh man.” His voice drips satisfaction.

★ “I must’ve printed the wrong draft.” You’re already pulling up the file on your computer. “Good catch. The final version had way better formatting anyway.”

★ Silence.

★ “You—” Flambae’s walking toward you now, and there’s something dangerous in the way he moves. All leashed energy and sharp fucking edges. “You think I did you a favor?”

★ “I mean, kinda?” You hit print. “I was gonna reprint it anyway. Saved me the trouble of recycling.” His hands flex. Smoke curls from his palms—thin, gray, the color of a promise about to break.

★ “You’re fucking with me.”

★ “What? No.” You look up, genuinely concerned. “Are you okay? You seem, like, really tense lately.”

★ Flambae stares at you. Through you. Past you into some dimension where things make sense and people react like they’re supposed to. Then he turns. Walks away. A trash can bursts into flame as he passes. You grab the extinguisher before Herm gets involved. “I got it!”

★ Visi leans over to Robert, who were both passing by. “This is the best thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

★ “He’s going to actually explode,” Robert whispers back.

★ “I know.” She snorts.

•••

Error that probably didn’t need correcting in the first place//Friday, 9:03 AM

★ Finding an error in the system logs before the morning briefing—you saw it had Flambae’s response time wrong on yesterday’s warehouse call. Made him look slower than he was. You knew for a fact it was incorrect. It’s a small thing. Probably just a typo. Not a big deal what so ever…would be pointless to even bother. A whole thing…

★ You fix it anyway. With permission (not from Flambae.) with a process, taking accountability for the error, proving the mistake, and just like that? Its correct. Good. By lunch, Flambae corners you in the hallway on the trip to the break room. It’s not a coincidence—he’s waiting there, arms crossed, expression thunderous. Stopping you in your tracks.

★ “Did you fucking edit my stats?”

★ “Uh.” You’re holding a sandwich. It feels inadequate as a shield. “Yeah? Well—within protocol of course. There was a timestamp error, so I just—”

★ “I don’t need you covering for me.”

★ “I wasn’t covering. I was correcting.” You say honestly.

★ “Same thing.” He glares.

★ “It’s really not.”

★ His jaw works. The air between you feels hot—like standing too close to a space heater, or something. Like it might explode if you say the wrong thing.

★ “Why do you even care?” he asks, and the question sounds like an accusation. You blink. “Because…. it’s my job?”

★ “That’s not—” He cuts himself off. Drags a hand over his face. “You’re actually exhausting.”

★ “Sorry?”

★ “Don’t apologize. Jesus fucking Christ.” He pushes past you, shoulder brushing yours, and you catch that smell again—smoke and something warmer, something that lingers even after he’s gone. You like it. The scent. It’s nice. You eat your sandwich standing there. It’s quiet. And you wonder if maybe you should’ve just left the error alone.

•••

Break Room (again lol)//Monday, 12:04 PM

★ You’re not there. Which is the only reason they’re talking. Flambae’s reheating last night’s Chinese food in the microwave when Mandy walks in, spots him, and grins.

★ “Oh good. You’re alone.”

★ “Don’t even.”

★ “So when are you gonna ask ‘em out?” Visi’s oice comes from nowhere just as she appears—she’s sitting in a chair at the table. The microwave beeps. Flambae doesn’t move. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

★ “Right.” Sonar leans in from the hall. “And I don’t prefer boobies over ass. Guess we’re both liars.” He enters, leans against the wall.

★ “I’m not—” Flambae attempts…

★ “Ha.” Prism walks in past Sonar, leaning against the counter where the coffee machine was. “You’re not subtle. Like, at all.”

★ “I’m going to incinerate all of you.”

★ “See?” Mandy points at him triumphantly. “Classic misdirection. He’s blushing.”

★ “I don’t fucking blush—”

★ “You do though,” Visi says, “It’s cute. In a homicidal kinda way.”

★ Flambae grabs his food from the microwave. It’s too hot. He doesn’t care. “I hate every single person in this building.”

★ “Except one,” Sonar singsongs.

★ “Especially that one.” Visi adds.

★ “Uh-huh.” Prism hums along “That’s why you fixed the coffee machine last week after he mentioned it was broken.”

★ “That wasn’t—”

★ “Or why you always try extra hard when they’re on shift and giving orders.” Mandy adds. “Never do that for Robert.”

★ “Or why—”

★ “Okay!” Flambae slams his container down. A small flame flickers to life on the counter—he puts it out with his palm. “You know what? You’re all fucking stupid, holy shit. And wrong—Jesus Christ.”

★ The room erupts in laughter. Flambae storms out, ears burning, microwave food abandoned. And of course you’re in the hallway. Of course you are. You’re juggling a tablet, two file folders, and a coffee that’s definitely not yours based on the lipstick stain on the lid.

★ “Oh hey—” You spot him, and your face does that thing. That open, genuine, stupid thing that makes his chest feel like it’s full of hornets. “There you are. I was gonna find you after—”

★ “What.” It comes out harsh. Sharper than he means.

★ You don’t even flinch. “I just wanted to say you really killed it today. That highway pileup? Your response time was insane. Probably saved like, a dozen people.”

★ The words hit him like friendly fire.

★ “And also—” You shift the folders, nearly drop one. He catches it reflexively, and your fingers brush. “—you seem stressed lately. I dunno if it’s the schedule or whatever, but… want to grab a drink after shift? There’s this new bar I’ve been passing on the way here daily, heard they got reallly good wings.”

★ His brain snuffs out.

★ “Fuck no.”

★ Your expression doesn’t change. Still open. Still stupidly kind. Damn it why were you so fucking…you? Ughhh. He hears himself before he can stop it, “Wait. Are you like…buying at least?”

★ “Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” You shrug. He considers this.

★ “…I guess.” he mutters, and your smile is—he doesn’t have words for it. “Cool. I’m off at seven. I’ll text you the spot. Meet you there?”

★ “Fine. Whatever.”

★ Without thinking, you hand him the folder he caught, fingers brushing again. And then you’re walking away, heart doing little flips while whistling something off key. Flambae stands in the hallway for a full thirty seconds, (you gotta cute ass…damn.) holding a folder he doesn’t need. From the break room, muffled laughter. He’s going to burn this whole building down.

★ But first—Seven o’clock. Fuck.

👽: The wings were actually pretty good. Chad ordered the spicy ones. You act surprised when he finishes them without flinching. He calls you an idiot. You buy him another beer. By the time you leave, his shoulder keeps bumping yours on the walk back, and neither of you mention it.

[click4rainy]

sappy male reader... kising flambaes missing fingers... please and thank you <33

love your fics btw!!

The Important Hand

🖇️: Flambae x masc!reader

☑️: Proof Read

⚠️: SFW/SAPPY/FLUFFY/CUTESY/AWWW/established relationship/you comfort your fiery boyfriend about his little nubs. LOL.

★ The TV’s murmuring something about a cooking competition—knives flashing, someone dicing onions with theatrical precision—and you feel Flambae’s hand twitch where it rests against your chest.

★ “Show off,” he mutters at the screen, but there’s something else in his voice. Something quieter.

★ You tilt your head back to look at him. He’s focused on the TV, but not really. His right hand has curled slightly, tucked between your bodies like it’s trying to hide.

★ “Babe?”

★ “It’s stupid.” He huffs a laugh that doesn’t quite land. “Just—watching that guy. Makes me think about… you know.”

★ You do know.

★ You’ve heard the story. Robert. The fight. The way everything went wrong in the space between one heartbeat and the next. How anger cost him two fingers and nearly cost him more.

★ “Hey.” You shift, turning in his arms until you’re facing him properly. “Look at me.”

★ He does, but his jaw’s tight. Self conscious in that way he gets sometimes, when the missing pieces feel louder than the ones that remain.

★ So you lean in and kiss him. Soft. Unhurried. The kind of kiss that says I’m here and you’re here and that’s enough.

★ When you pull back, you catch his right hand before he can tuck it away again. You bring it to your lips—press a kiss to his palm first, then his thumb, then each finger that’s still there. Taking your time. Making it deliberate.

★ Then you kiss the space where the others used to be. The pinky. The ring finger. Just the tender nubs remaining, the ghosts of what was two little fingies. Flambae makes a sound—somewhere between a laugh and something shakier.

★ “What are you—”

★ “Shh.” You kiss them again. “These too. All of you.”

★ His breath catches.

★ You guide his hand up, settling it against your cheek, and he cups your face like you’re something precious. His thumb brushes your cheekbone, and his eyes are doing that thing where they’re too bright, too soft, too much.

★ “You’re ridiculous,” he whispers.

★ “Yeah, but you love me.”

★ “I really do.”

★ You turn your head just enough to kiss his palm again. “Besides,” you murmur against his skin, “you’ve still got your ring finger on the left hand.”

★ He blinks. Then he gets it.

★ His laugh this time is real—surprised and warm and a little watery. “You are such a sap.”

★ “That’s what really counts, right?” You grin. “The one that matters.”

★ Flambae pulls you back against him, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His right hand stays cradled between you both, but it’s not hiding anymore. It’s just there. Part of him. Part of this. On the TV, someone’s plating a dessert with gold leaf and unnecessary flourishes. Neither of you are watching.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[click4rainy]

Kinktober Day 21: Mating Season/Double penetration

👽: full kinktober list here ➜ 💌

🖇️: Syzoth x gn!reader

❌: NOT Proof Read

⚠️: NSFW/SMUT/kinda long sorry not sorry/he has two dicks/double penny/ambiguous genitalia/it’s mating season? Yeah/hence his behavior/(i fr did research on multiple lizards for this. don’t ask me to elaborate 💀 just enjoy the horny head canon I have for this fic)

★ The first time it happens, you think maybe he’s just having a bad day.

★ Syzoth has always been careful with you—gentle in a way that makes your chest ache, like he’s still learning that he’s allowed to want softly. But today, when Johnny leans against the training room wall and throws you that trademark grin, something shifts.

★ “Hey, looking good out there,” Johnny says, all easy charm and white teeth. “You’ve been working on that footwork, huh? Because—“

★ “They’re busy.”

★ Syzoth’s voice cuts through the space like a blade you didn’t see coming. He’s suddenly there, positioned between you and Johnny with the kind of precision that doesn’t feel accidental. His shoulders are broader than you remember—or maybe it’s just the way he’s holding them, drawn up and back like a warning written in muscle and bone.

★ Johnny blinks. Raises his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, easy there, Reptile. Just making conversation.”

★ But Syzoth doesn’t move. Doesn’t even acknowledge the nickname that usually makes him sigh with tired amusement. There’s something in his posture that reads like a door slamming shut, and you catch the briefest flash—scales, iridescent and sharp along his jawline, there and gone again before you can fully process them.

★ They’re not the usual muted green.

★ They’re bright. Jewel toned. Almost shimmering.

★ “Syzoth?” You touch his arm, and he turns to you immediately. The tension bleeds out of him like someone cut a string, and suddenly he’s just your Syzoth again—soft eyed and slightly sheepish, like he’s not entirely sure how he ended up in this particular spot.

★ “apologies,” he murmurs. To you. Not to Johnny. “I just….you were in the middle of training.”

★ “I was taking a break, actually.”

★ “Oh.” He glances away. A soft orange hue coloring his cheeks—like he was blushing. But you knew he couldn’t technically—not like a human anyways. And you swear you can see something else beneath it. Something that wants to shimmer. “Right. Of course.”

★ Johnny leaves without further jest, and you pretend not to notice the way Syzoth tracks his exit like a predator watching prey slip just out of range.

•••

★ The second time, you’re in the gardens. It’s evening, all purple/gold light and the smell of jasmine heavy enough to taste. You’re reading—or trying to—but mostly you’re stealing glances at Syzoth, who’s been quieter than usual lately. More watchful. He sits close enough that your knees almost touch, and every so often you feel his gaze like a physical thing, warm and weighted.

★ “You’re staring….” You say without looking up from your book.

★ “I’m admiring.”

★ The words come out rougher than either of you expected. When you finally meet his eyes, they’re different—pupils dilated wide and dark, ringed in gold that definitely wasn’t there this morning.

★ “Admiring,” you repeat slowly.

★ “Is that….not allowed?” There’s something almost nervous in the question, hidden beneath layers of careful control. He shifts, and the movement is liquid smooth, inhuman in a way that usually only happens when he’s comfortable. When he forgets to hold himself in human shape.

★ But he’s not fully shifted now. He’s caught somewhere in between—skin flickering with patterns that race across his arms like living art, colors that seem to pulse with his heartbeat. Emerald. Sapphire. Gold like late afternoon sun.

★ You realize you’ve been staring back.

★ “It’s allowed,” you say quietly. Your book is forgotten now, pages fluttering closed. “You’re just….different lately.”

★ “Different bad??”

★ “Different different.” You reach out slowly, telegraphing the movement, and trace one of the patterns on his forearm. His breath hitches. The colors flare brighter, and you feel the texture of scales rising to meet your touch like a flower turning toward light. “These are new.”

★ “They’re not.” He’s watching your fingers like they’re performing some kind of miracle. “They’re just… more.”

★ “More?”

★ But he doesn’t answer. Just catches your hand and presses it flat against his chest, right over his heart. It’s racing—faster than ever, thrumming with a reptilian quickness you’ve learned to recognize. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, you feel warmth. Actual warmth? Or maybe you were just imagining it—maybe it was you that was warm…you watch as the subtle shift of something moves beneath skin, rearranging itself, wanting out.

★ “I should go,” he says abruptly.

★ “Syzoth—“

★ “I don’t want to—“ He stops. Swallows hard. “You make it difficult to think clearly.”

★ He leaves before you can ask what he means. But the garden still smells like jasmine, and your palm still tingles where scales pressed against it, and you sit there in the fading light wondering when admiring started sounding like starving.

•••

★ The third time, you go looking for answers. The archives are quiet this time of night. You’ve been here for hours, scrolling through texts on Zaterran biology, culture, behavioral patterns. Some of it you already knew—Syzoth has shared pieces of his past with you, careful and slow, like learning to trust you with the sharp edges of his history.

★ But this is different.

★ ‘Seasonal behavioral changes’, one text explains, ‘are common among Zaterran males of reproductive age. Heightened territorial instincts. Increased displays of coloration. A strong drive to establish pair bonds and ward off potential rivals.’

★ Oh that was it? Huh.

★ Wait, Huh?

★ You scroll further, cheeks warming as the clinical language gives way to more detailed descriptions. Courtship rituals. The way Zaterrans signal interest—through color, through proximity, through the careful choreography of protection and presentation. It’s not aggression—not really.

★ It’s wanting.

★ Wanting so fierce it rewrites everything else.

★ And Syzoth has been fighting it. Trying to tamp it down, keep it human shaped and manageable because he thinks—what? That it’ll scare you? That you won’t understand?

★ You close the tablet and sit back, mind racing.

★ He’s essentially been courting you. This whole time. And you’ve been watching him struggle against his own instincts, embarrassed and careful, trying so hard not to be too much.

★ The thought shouldn’t make you smile.

★ It absolutely does.

•••

★ The fourth time—you’re ready. You find him in the training hall, alone, moving through forms with a violence that looks like meditation. He’s fully shifted—all scales and sinuous grace, colors muted in the low light. But when you enter, when he catches your scent or hears your footstep or just *knows* you’re there the way he always seems to, everything about him changes.

★ The colors flood back. Brilliant. Breathtaking.

★ “You don’t have to hide it,” you say.

★ He freezes mid-movement. “Hide what?”

★ “This.” You gesture at him—all of him, human and not, beautiful in every form. “Whatever this is that you think is going to scare me off.”

★ “I don’t—

★ “Syzoth.” You step closer. He tracks the movement like it’s the only thing in the world worth watching. “I know about your—your season. The…bonding behaviors. I’m not scared.”

★ Something complicated crosses his face—relief and mortification and a hunger so raw it stops your breath. “You researched.”

★ “I did.”

★ “That’s…” He makes a sound caught between a laugh and a groan. “Of course you did.”

★ “So you can stop pretending you don’t want to hiss at Johnny every time he looks at me.” Another step. You’re close enough now to see the patterns shifting across his scales, complex and mesmerizing. “And you can stop holding yourself so carefully, like you think I’m going to break..”

★ “I don’t think you’ll break.” His voice drops lower, becomes something with teeth in it. “I think I might.”

★ “Then break,” you whisper.

★ For a heartbeat, he just stares at you.

★ Then he moves.

★ closing the distance with that liquid speed that makes your pulse spike. His hands find your waist—careful still, always careful with you—but there’s a tremor in them now. Want held on a fraying leash.

★ “Beloved—you don’t understand what you’re asking for,” he says against your temple. His breath is warm, slightly too quick. “During mati—he stops himself, unable to say the word in front of you, “The season, I…” He stops. Tries again. “It makes me—possessive. Irrational. I want—“

★ “Me,” you finish. “You want me. I know. I want you too.”

★ The sound he makes is almost a whimper.

★ “Say it again.”

★ “I want you, Syzoth” You tip your head back, meeting those gold ringed eyes. “All of you. However you need to be.”

★ The colors across his skin flare so bright it’s almost bioluminescent. And then he’s kissing you—deep and desperate. like he’s been holding back for weeks and the dam just shattered. His mouth is hot, insistent, different in shape and texture, and you gasp against it as his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

•••

★ His tongue slips past your lips, long and precise, curling against your own in a way that sends sparks straight down your spine. You moan into his mouth, your hands trailing up and down his rough shoulders, pulling him closer.

★ Syzoth groans, the sound vibrating through his chest as he presses his hips forward. You feel the hard lengths of him against your thigh, both cocks straining through his pants, thick and insistent. The realization hits you like a thrill, your core clenching in anticipation. He’s always been careful, restrained, but now? Now he’s unraveling, and it’s all for you.

★ “Mine,” he murmurs against your lips, nipping at your bottom one with sharp teeth that don’t break skin but promise they could. His hands slide down to grip your ass, kneading the flesh as he lifts you effortlessly off the training room mat. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, and he grinds against you, the dual ridges of his arousal rubbing right where you ache.

★ You break the kiss just enough to whisper, “Take me to bed, Syzoth. Now.” Your voice is breathy, teasing, even as your body trembles with need.

★ He doesn’t hesitate. With a low growl, he carries you out of the training room. His strides long and urgent down the dimly lit corridor of your shared quarters. The door to the bedroom barely registers before he’s kicking it shut behind you, the wood slamming with enough force to rattle the frame. He doesn’t set you down gently—instead, he backs you against the wall, capturing your mouth again in a bruising kiss. His hands are everywhere—tugging at your shirt, shoving it up and over your head, then yanking down your pants with impatient efficiency.

★ “So beautiful,” he rasps, “Cricket….always tempting me.” He dips his head to your neck, licking a hot stripe along your pulse point, his forked tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin. You arch into him, urging him on.

★ Clothes hit the floor in a frenzy—twin cocks bobbing, both curving upward, veined and flushed a deep green, tips already beading with precum. They’re thicker than you remember, or maybe it was just because he was in his true form…nonetheless—they pulsed greedily in tandem—as if sharing the same desperate rhythm. Syzoth’s hands roam your bare skin, calloused palms cupping your chest/breasts, thumbs circling your nipples until they’re hard peaks.

★ “I need you,” he says, the words laced with that flirtatious lilt even as his grip tightens, irrational possessiveness bleeding through.

★ “I’m yours,” you reply, nipping at his jaw. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

★ That does it. He scoops you up again, tossing you onto the bed with a playful growl that turns feral. You land on your back, legs splayed, and he follows, crawling over you like a predator claiming his prize. His mouth finds your chest/breast, sucking hard on one nipple while his hand pinches the other, drawing a gasp from your lips. Lower still, his fingers trail down your stomach, dipping between your thighs to find you soaked and ready.

★ “Mmm, so ready,” he murmurs, voice husky with approval. Two fingers push inside your pussy, thick, clawed but careful, curling to stroke that spot that makes your hips buck while his other hand strokes one of his cocks, the slick sound obscene in the quiet room.

★ You writhe under him, chasing the building pressure. “Syzoth...”

★ His fingers thrust faster, scissoring to stretch you, preparing you for what’s to come. When he withdraws, you whine at the loss, but then he’s positioning himself between your legs, one cock nudging at your entrance while the other presses between your thighs still.

★ “Breathe,” he instructs softly, that genuinely loving tone cutting through the heat. He kisses you again, slower this time, as the tip of his first cock breaches your entrance. It’s a stretch, burning sweet, and you cling to his shoulders as he sinks in inch by inch. Halfway there, he pauses, reaching down to guide the second cock, slick with his own precum, he nudges at you, pressing both heads between your thighs insistently, begging ti be swallowed up by your body.

★ You relax as best you can, the flirty little spark in your eyes meeting his rather intense gaze. “Give it to me. Both.”

★ With a shuddering breath, he pushes forward. The dual invasion is overwhelming—you’re filled to the brim, walls clenching around his thick length, while you yield to the second, the sensation of fullness making stars scatter behind your eyelids. He bottoms out with both, hips flush against yours, and stills, letting you adjust. His forehead rests against yours, breaths mingling.

★ “mmmh, bug, you feel ssso good,” he groans, starting to move. Shallow thrusts at first, occasionally switching between the two cocks—one pulling out as the other drives in—building a rhythm that has you moaning his name. The friction is intense, every slide hitting nerves you didn’t know you had, pleasure coiling tight in your belly.

★ Syzoth’s pace quickens, possessive grunts escaping him as he fucks you harder. “Mine,” he repeats, one hand pinning your wrist above your head while the other grips your thigh, spreading you wider. His tail—long and sinuous—wraps around your leg, holding you open for him. The colors on his skin flare brighter, pulsing glows as sweat slicks your bodies.

★ You meet his thrusts, rolling your hips to take him deeper. “Yes... harder—mff—ahhngh—“ Your words spur him on, making him double his efforts (literally).

★ He releases your wrist to brace himself, pounding into you with abandon. Both cocks now pistoning together—stretching and filling you completely, the intensity sending waves of ecstasy crashing through you. You grind against his base with every thrust, pushing you closer to the edge.

★ Finally, your orgasm hits, clenching and pulsing, milking his lengths as you cry out. Syzoth follows seconds later, roaring your name as he spills inside you—hot cum flooding you completely and utterly, marking you from within. He collapses onto you, still buried deep, his body trembling with aftershocks.

★ For a moment, you just hold each other, breaths ragged. You smile, tracing a finger along his jaw. Basking in each other.

•••

★ Later, when you’re curled together in the quiet dark, his tail wrapped loosely around your ankle like a living promise, he speaks into your hair. (Or the crook of your neck :3)

★ “Thank you.”

★ “For what?”

★ “For researching—caring.” You feel his smile against your shoulder. “For not running. For letting me be… this.”

★ You lace your fingers through his, feeling the texture difference where scales meet skin. “This is pretty great, actually.”

★ “Even when I hiss at Johnny??”

★ “Especially when you hiss at Johnny.”

He’s so babygirl.