Those acting skills kicked in the instant the sourness hit. Which means you can still clearly tell he’s feeling it hard.
His sunglasses mask the fluttered squinting somewhat until he takes them off to put his head in his hand.
For once he’s speechless, and you almost tell him to just spit it out but he refuses with a slow headshake against his palm.
Actually manages to hold on until the candy sweetens, to which he glares at you, slick forehead-ass. How could you do that to him… He could have died..
Kenshi:
He knows. His ancestors told on you.
Tries the candy to humor you, and because he wants to (see) you happy. Taken aback at first because since becoming blind, his other senses have heightened and taste is no exception.
Still handles it better than Johnny, but if his eyes still worked he’d be squeezing them like lemons right now.
Quietly puts it back in its wrapper once it sweetens. Kind of a let-down reaction, but it’s cute to see his tongue blue when he says “Yeah it’s… Sour.”
Bi Han:
Completely oblivious when you hand it to him. It’s blue so he’s inclined to eat it
His usual scrunched brows inflate in the splittest second once the sour hits, thinks you’ve moronically given him a poisoned substance without realizing.
He spits it out on his hand when you try to tell him no, it’s not an assasination attempt, it’s just candy. Not amused.
Slings it hundreds of feet away before you hear a distant vehicular collision.
Tomas Vrbada:
Put the candy in his mouth with no hesitation since he trusts you. Trust revoked.
Still has it in his mouth but glares at you with saucer eyes. Once he sees you grinning, realizes you’ve done this on purpose and hollers.
Fans his face as wisps of smoke flutter at his hand, remembers his Lin Kuei ninja training.
Gets through it!! Cries a little while you give him back pats.
Syzoth:
Puts it in his mouth and swallows it whole.
He still doesn’t catch that you tried to prank him. It was a bit tangy, sure, but was that it?
Has a reduced sense of taste since he’s a reptile so this is nothing for him. It does give a nice tingle, though.
Asks for more, you give him one more. Looks confused at your own confusion and extends his hand for more. More-
Stuffs them in his mouth like popcorn.
Baraka:
Inspects the candy between his sharp nails with hesitation until you say he doesn’t have to try it if he doesn’t want to.
You saying it like that makes him secretly happy :DD so he eats it, close to crunching until the sour hits.
Tries to spit it out instinctively but his teeth are in the way..
The sour candy ricochets in his poor jaws like a pinball machine.
Ends up accidentally swallowing it. I hope you’re happy.
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.”
ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ/ᴀꜱᴋ: "Did I say something wrong?" with reptile?
He's baby sometimes and I think if reader comes from the human world there could be some miscommunication. Or maybe phrases the reader uses that syzoth doesn't understand and thinks that the reader is mad.
I see a lot of "you're so cute I could eat you up" so be that?
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing
"Oh, it's fucking raining cats and dogs out there, I ain't going out," you hummed with a shake of your head as you closed the curtains and looked over to where Syzoth was lounging on your bed, his green eyes wide slightly as he furrowed his brows in confusion. "What? Did I say something wrong?"
Syzoth shook his head, and slowly got up so that he could look out of the window; all he could see was heavy rain that pounded against the windows and bounced back up when it hit the concrete pavements outside. He paused, and looked up at the skies for a moment; huge charcoal grey clouds lazily trudged their way through the smoke coloured canvas, no sunlight visible at all, and certainly no cats or dogs outside.
You smiled, your face feeling a little hot as you shook your head again and did your best not to call him just about the cutest thing in the world; with your time split between Zaterra and Earthrealm, you could understand why he had not quite grasped the usual phrases and idioms and such just yet; it still did not make it any less charming, though.
"Where are the cats and dogs?" He asked quietly.
"Oh, fuck," you muttered to yourself, forgetting that he might not have known. But when you saw the puppy dog look in his green eyes, you knew he thought that you were frustrated, and you shook your head at yourself.
"No, it's just a saying," you explained with a grin that made him immediately relax and realise that you were far from angry. "Y'know like when we went to the museum in Zaterra's capital, and I told you that I'd rather shit in my hands and clap than bring Johnny along?"
Syzoth nodded, still unable to shake the foul image from his mind. "Unfortunately I do."
"It's just like that," you told him. "I mean, Zeterra has to have phrases like that, too, right?"
Again, he nodded. "We have a similar one to yours about horse's mouth, from the eye of the well."
"See?" You hummed, smiling so brightly at him that it felt like his heart was going to burn in his chest. "That's all it is, but... I gotta say, it's cute when you're confused."
His features burned pink for a moment as he turned away for just a moment, his tail protruding from his lower back as he failed to keep control of it from coming through; he always did that when he was flustered, and if it wasn't his tail, it was often his tongue instead. But you could only grin as you hummed, tilting your head slightly to the side to admire just how good he looked and how much you enjoyed making him go all shy and blush.
It was cute, it was a side of him that you rarely got to see; usually, Syzoth was rarely flustered, always having a quiet confidence about him, but if you could draw that fluttering sensation in his chest and that pink blush across his cheeks out, you would, and he was always willing to let you do it.
At first, Syzoth had to admit, he was a little bit apprehensive about dating someone from Earthrealm, but he liked you enough that he was confident in sharing his anxiety around it, and the two of you had worked together on it for so long that now, he knew he could not be with another man - Earthrealmer or otherwise.
You were all that he sought in a partner, confident and charming and intelligent and open, never condescending, but always happy to explain and fill him in on things that he did not quite understand. You were the man for him. No one else could compare... maybe, in his heart of hearts, it was raining cats and dogs for you.
Or at least, that's how he thought of it, even if he was using it wrong.
You never thought less of him for being confused about the cultural differences, and you never put him down for it; you just admitted that it was cute when he was confused, and happily explained until he told you that he understood.
But then, your phone buzzed, and you rolled your eyes with a sigh as you unlocked it to show Syzoth the text from Johnny. "He wants us at his house party tonight... I can't think of an excuse."
"It's raining cats and dogs," Syzoth pointed out with a smile that made you want to punch him from how cute he was being. "Did I use that right?"
You nodded. "You did, but... you know what Johnny's like. He'll just send a car to get us if we try and use the weather."
"Well..." gently, he reached for your hand as his tail protectively found its way behind your legs, leaning into you to ensure that you knew you wouldn't stumble. "It's been a while since we saw Kenshi, Kung Lao and the others. Why don't we see if they're going?"
You thought about it, then frowned. "I was kinda hoping that we would spend the day together, though."
"Give me the square," he told you, and you handed him the phone. "I will say you have Tarkat."
"No!" You yelped, shaking your head. "Say I have a cold."
Syzoth furrowed his brows, and placed his free hand to your forehead. "You don't feel cold..."
"It's just a light disease that people get," you explained, "just say I've got a cold and I'm sneezing and coughing everywhere."
He nodded, typed it out, and when you said it was good enough to be convincing to Johnny, he pressed the send button and handed you the phone back.
"There," he nodded. "Now we don't need to go anywhere... I have you all to myself, now."
"That you do," you hummed, leading him towards the bed. "Don't tell Johnny, but... do you wanna watch a Skorsese film and eat our weight in sweets?"
Syzoth nodded eagerly, grinning as he eagerly allowed you to pull him down onto the bed and snuggle into your side.
