#dispatch sonar x reader

“just one squeeze and then ill go, okay?”

“why should i even let you touch me?”

honestly, was his mind just full of your boobs? it seemed every time the atmosphere turned into something more, he had to ask about your breasts. they werent anything special, at least not to you. to sonar, they were everything.

“every tuesday is tiddy day. just one touch, maybe even a squeeze?” he continued to ask you without bothering to give an actual answer. besides, it wasnt even tuesday.

“fine! just one and nothing more. if you even dare touch me more than that ill make sure you even regret asking.” he was worst than a child begging their mother for candy.

“open up for me.” he waited with anticipation, lithe fingers helping you slide your jacket off. he set the piece of clothing to the side, eyes fixated on your cleavage showing through your v-neck. he needed you to wear more shirts with low collars. anything to see the soft curves of your breasts under the clothe.

it wouldnt hurt to have more photos to look at either. rather, itd be quite useful for the future during nights when he’s alone and needy.

phone sex can only go so far, and without his photo album of you it was hard to get off. porn became tasteless the moment you two got together. your first moment together was heaven on earth, the lights going off in his brain. it was almost the same reaction he got when he stuffed his nose with white. except this high lasted longer and felt better afterwards.

you raised your shirt overhead, left with your lacy bra on. at least it was finally being used, or at least, being used for something other than preventing your nipples showing through your shirt.

“oh yes, the moment ive been waiting for.” his hands hovered over your bra, almost hesitating to touch them. then they reached around to your back, fumbling with the clasp a few times.

you’d think for a harvard student he’d at least be able to take off a bra.

“hold on ive got it. dont even bother to lift a finger to help me. its not harder than having to do calculus in an honors program.”

“har-har-har, hurry up before i decide to put my shirt on.” that was enough motivation to finish wrestling the bra clasp, letting it drop to the floor and reveal your soft breasts.

he almost drooled at the sight, taking in the view before reaching his hands out. only one touch allowed, he had to make the most of it.

he cupped your breasts gently, rolling your nipples against his thumbs. “i’m getting cum brain right now.”

“make the most of it, this is all you’re getting for the rest of the day.” oh you hated him. you must actually hate him, putting a limit on his tiddy time. he was going to remember this.

his fingers delve softly into the flesh, careful not to squeeze too hard. he could feel the strange, squishy systematic parts inside the more he kneaded.

he was like a kitten taken away from its mother way too young, kneading at your breasts as much as he could.

his nose twitched, leaning closer to you. everything was heavenly, until his hand accidentally slipped off your breast as he readjusted his posture.

“wait no. i wasnt done.” he sounded desperate, reaching his hands back out to squeeze one last time.

you stepped back, holding an arm over your breasts in a pathetic attempt to cover them. “ah ah, only one touch. you said so yourself.”

“no my hand slipped. that doesnt count. come on, one last touch? this will be the last time.”

you werent falling for his antics again. your shift started soon, you both knew that. if he truly was desperate enough, he could beg for more when you were both home and off the clock.

“ill even go serial sucker mode on you tonight if you let me get one last squeeze in?”

you let out a puff of air from your slight laugh. “you’ll have to try harder than that, victor.” you shook your head at him. he looked truly dejected, ears laid back against his head as he sulked silently. he was drowning in a pool filled with his own self pity.

you bent down to grab your bra from the floor, ready to redress yourself for the day. at least, you were until you felt hands placate themselves at your hips.

his own hips pressed against your ass, making sure to press his hardened cock against you. “look at that, we have a cock looking to dock here it seems.”

he must think hes so funny, huh?

==========================

"My name's Robert Robertson." The new dispatcher is met with immediate bursts of laughter after he introduces himself.

You kept quiet, watching the others in the common room make fun of him, one in particular. Silliness is contagious; you couldn't help but smile and snicker silently. None of them even noticed, probably since you're leaning in the shadowed corner, full black cloak and face mask making you blend in; that or because you always kept to yourself.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Chase silenced the Z Team. That's authority for you. Kinda easy to tune out the scolding when you know it's directed at you.

The real shift begins as Robert begins to give the team missions. He decided to send you to a distress call from the mall, security knows someone is swiping from multiple stores, and needs help catching the perp.

"I'll get the job done, Bobert." Despite your stoic tone, you made a few laugh, the one who came up with Bobert in particular. It made you smile as you sunk into the shadows.

Popping out of a shadow you were familiar with at Hot Topic, you met up with security to get the downlow. The thief is stealing from clothing stores, which helped narrow the search. You got to work, travelling through the shaded area, occasionally startling a shopper who notices you emerge from the dark. You stuck to the sidelines as you kept an eye on the stores, until you noticed a civilian opening a pocket and shoving a large stack of pants inside, the pocket staying the exact size as if empty.

"Gotcha." You melt into the shadows, moving to one where they were walking by and grabbed them. "You're not going anywhere."

You saved the day; it would feel fantastic. It did, only for a scream to kill the vibe. Your vibe, that is. How the situation appeared to them is a villain popped out of nowhere and grabbed an innocent person. The stereotype is sold further as the people stare at your exposed scarred eye with grey clouding around the area.

"This is why I'm not suited for missions out in public," you grumbled to Robert over the coms.

"What's going on, Eclispe?"

"Scaring the public as usual," Prism joked.

"They make me look more friendly," Malevola said, unknowingly making your scar sting.

The girls just had to make you feel worse. Bad enough your scar marked you as a monster, the rest of the team didn't even know you're female. Of course, why bother correcting them? Keeps the identity secret and saves face for other jabs they could make. Better to be viewed as only a monster. You were having a good day.

"Just expose that the person you caught is the thief and hand them over to security," Robert instructed.

"Very well." You reach into the thief's pocket and begin pulling out piles of clothes they stuffed in there, one of which were the stack of pants. "I believe this belongs to the store." Holding out the stack to the employee nearby.

Once the crowd saw you hand over the pants, they went on with their day. You were doing your job as a hero. Why else would you return something stolen?

You got security's attention and gave them the shoplifter, retreating down into the shadows before they could say anything else. You're now back at home base and heading straight for the fridge in the lounge. You hear Punch-Up talking about you as you emerge from a shadow by the fridge.

"I just don't understand why they insist on wearing a big, long cloak if they know they're gonna get mistaken for a villain."

"They probably still want to be a villain, can't blame them," Coop said. She eyed you from the corner of her eye, the only one who sensed your presence when you appeared in the room.

"What the fuck is with the lame get up though?" Invisagirl questioned. "Talk about extra. People aren't going to see someone sneaking around in the shadows anyway, what's the point?"

Rolling your eyes, you fish out the energy drink from the fridge.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So what was your read on this Mecha Man guy?" Invisagal asked over coms, curious about the superhero the others met at the bar last night.

Both of you were on your way to a stealth mission, to a place you haven't visited before, hence why you're travelling on foot. Clearly bored, she started small talk with the others.

"Washed up. Drinking alone," Punch up said. Sounds like he's returning from a mission. "A robot guy without his robot, I guess."

"So... just a guy?" Malevola questioned.

"Hear that Flambae? You got your ass kicked by 'just a guy'," Sonar said, amusement clear in his voice.

"All of you, shut the fuck up." Flambae clearly is done with the subject.

You scoff, Invisagal notices and goes off coms.

"You met Mecha Man before?" she asked. She must be real curious about this hero if she's asking you.

"No. However, I did see his retirement announcement on the news. He fucked up a reporter for asking questions that were uncalled for," you told her.

"Shiiiiit, really? That's hot."

If the job circumstances were different, you might've asked her if Mecha Man is her new celebrity crush. It's clear the girl is into him. Maybe if you were one of the others, you'd tease her for it, but you're not.

'Don't say anything personal.' Your former boss echoes in your head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Jesus Christ!" Flambae jumps when he sees you were directly behind him. "Creepy ass bastard, you trying to get on my nerves?" He walks past you to take a seat on the couch.

"Just came here to warn you," you state ominously.

"Fuck off."

"That park had many crows living there; they'll remember who set it on fire."

"If they aren't already dead." He kicked his feet up on the couch without a care. It irked you, but you let it go and sat at a table near the counter.

Conveniently, the table let you get a full view of Sonar entering the lounge. He tapped away at his phone, not noticing you. He gasps, reading over something on his screen. "No way."

His excitement brought your mood back up. Smiling, you watch him turn on his coms.

"Heyyyy Bobby... I heard William Vanderstenk needs a security detail..." It's cute seeing him pretending to be nonchalant. "Is it cool if I go? I've been wanting to pitch him some stuff I've been working on."

Your coms vibrate, and you check the notification. Robert is giving you the security gig, why- You hop onto the vc.

"I'm not suited for the mission," you stated. "The last place I should be is near someone important with a massive fan club. I believe Sonar is more suited for the position."

Sonar's ears perked up, his head spins around to you with wide eyes. For once in your life, you're grateful for the scarred side of your face; it's hard to read, unlike the normal side, which is currently covered by your hair. Has Sonar always had such big eyes?

Robert sighs, "Fine."

A ding goes off from Sonar's coms, and he quietly fist bumps the air.

"Thanks man!" Sonar says over coms, his excitement barely contained. "You will not regret this."

You hop off coms, watching Sonar cheer to himself. He quickly shoots you a perky smile. "I owe you one Eclipse. You rule!"

Smiling behind the mask, he's not aware of how much that acknowledgement alone meant to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Entering the elevator, you hold your scarred eye. The thing won't stop stinging, in tune with the intrusive thoughts in your head. After today's shift, it might last all night.

It's not that the hero work is stressful; it's the fact you're all too aware of how the public perceives you, and yet they put you on day shift. Yes, shadows are created by light, and the sun's a giant spotlight; however, society runs in the daytime, people going about and doing their thing. That's the first sign you should not be working in the day... but what can you do except endure it?

You don't have a life if you leave this job... and you'd miss him.

Looking through your hair, from your good eye, you notice Blond Blazer waving for you to hold the elevator. Using the hand that held your bad eye, you catch the doors in time before they close and let her and another guy in.

"Thanks Eclipse."

"It's the least I can do," you tell her, nodding your head.

The guy beside her shifts, you're not sure why, too exhausted to care.

"How was your shift?" Blond Blazer asks.

"Better than the last three," you answer, keeping your eye fixed on the door. "At least Bobby took the hint I don't work well around the public."

"Why's that?" The new guy asks.

You turn to him and look him dead in the eye. The sound of the elevator going down enhances the silence.

"Sorry I asked..." he apologizes, just as the elevator dings, ground floor.

You're the first one out, taking long strides to exit the building faster.

Blond Blazer frowns as she watches you leave. "Sorry about that, Robert. Eclipse can be... a bit sensitive."

"I've been meaning to ask, why are they still dressed up like a villain?" Robert inquires, turning to her. "Isn't the idea to make their identities more hero-like? That's why you switched up Invisagal's name."

"We tried that but... Eclipse has her reason, and it's not my place to say."

"Hold up, Eclipse is a she? I mean, I couldn't tell what she was but-"

"She's not what you expect a female superhero to look like, right?" Blond Blazer finished for you.

"I guess." Robert shrugged.

"Eclipse is aware of this, a little too aware of this," she explains. "The rest of her appears normal, it's just her scarred eye that's different. She didn't have the best social life, it made her rather look like a full textbook villain...

"Than stare at her scar?" Robert guessed, Blazer nodded. Robert looks at the exit. "So she embraces the scar for her hero work and hides the rest of herself. Giving them a reason to judge that doesn't actually affect her."

The club thrums like a living creature.

Every surface sweats neon— purple smearing into blues smearing into hot pink streaks across the walls. Bass rattles the bones of the place, drowning out the city outside. It’s the kind of night Victor usually slips into like a second skin, dancing until the lines of his body blur into pure motion and the drugs smooth his mind into bliss.

But tonight, for the first time in forever, he’s aware. Sharply aware.

Because you’re here.

He spots you the moment the rest of the z-team funnels through the entrance— Prism shimmering in something holographic, Malevola dressed like she hexed the dress code, and in between them… you. Their newest trainee dispatcher. Calm, quiet, soft-handed you— who normally spends her hours with a headset on and a strange, steady patience like you’re holding the whole city together with kindness alone.

Now you’re stepping into a club of full heat and noise, and the contrast is so unfairly beautiful it sucker-punches him.

You’re in something simple but pretty— something that brushes your thighs when you walk and catches the light every time you move. Your hair’s a little messy from dancing on the way over. You laugh at something Prism whispers, and Victor feels the sound like an electric filament unspooling itself down his spine.

He leans back against a pillar, drink in hand, trying very hard not to stare.

He fails immediately.

You’re already swaying on the dance floor, letting Prism and Malevola pull you into their orbit. And you’re good— loose in that tipsy, unbothered way that people who don’t dance often tend to be once they give in. You toss your head back during the chorus, hair catching neon ribbons of light, and Victor’s chest tightens.

He tells himself it’s the drugs. That’s usually a safe bet.

But even he knows better.

You do this thing with your hands— gesturing dramatically at Prism, teasing her— and Malevola howls with laughter. You lean into it, cheeks flushed, eyes soft with warmth. You’re always sweet at work, gentle in a way the rest of them aren’t built for. But here, you’re something else. Unbuttoned. Playful. Still soft, yes— but more alive. Like color running outside the lines in the best possible way.

Victor takes a long sip from his drink, settling deeper against the pillar. He should join you. He wants to. His pulse is begging him to. His muscles twitch with the beat like they might drag him forward on their own.

But he hesitates.

Because he’s watching you.

Because you’re too fun to interrupt.

Because his heart is doing something stupid and spark-like that has nothing to do with chemistry and everything to do with your smile.

You turn in a loose spin— half grace, half tipsy enthusiasm— and Prism has to catch your waist. You burst into laughter, clutching her arms for balance. Victor’s hand twitches like he wants to be the one holding you.

He presses the heel of his palm to his eye.

Get it together, man.

Still, he can’t look away.

You dance without restraint. Without fear of looking ridiculous. Without shame. It’s like you trust the room to hold your joy. Like you trust your team to keep you safe. And the softness in that almost hurts.

And when you laugh again— full, warm, unselfconscious— he realizes he’s probably doomed.

And you’re dancing now. Really dancing.

Hands in the air, body rolling to the beat, eyes bright and half-lidded. You joke with Malevola about something, miming a dramatic gasp. You wiggle your eyebrows at Prism. You keep accidentally bumping into people and apologizing with a smile that’s so sincere Victor watches them forgive you on the spot.

You’re the kind of person people make room for.

The kind he wants to protect even if you’re perfectly capable of holding your own.

He’s drifting toward the dance floor before he realizes it.

Not close enough to crowd you— just in orbit. Just to make sure you’re okay. You laugh at something Malevola shouts, throwing your head back, and his knees nearly buckle.

You’re not subtle, he tells himself.

He doesn’t care.

When the song shifts, you breathe out, hands on your chest. “Water. I need water. I’m ninety percent glitter and sweat at this point.”

Prism throws an arm around you. “Then go, little hydration fairy. Bring us liquid salvation.”

You do a little salute, giggling. “Three waters! I’m on it.”

You start toward the bar.

Victor follows at a distance so natural nobody notices.

He’ll dance later.

Right now, he’s looking out for you.

Whether he admits why or not.

The club air tastes like citrus and heat and something faintly sweet— like the remnants of champagne spilled hours ago. The bar counter is a kaleidoscope of reflections. You lean with your elbow on the cool metal surface, catching your breath with a smile you can’t shake.

You’re having a good night.

Like— shockingly good. You don’t usually do clubs. You’re a “quiet dinner with friends” person. A “movie night with hot cocoa” kind of girl. But tonight? Prism and Malevola swept you up like a pair of glittery hurricanes, and you let yourself get carried.

And you’re… proud of yourself.

You danced. You laughed. You let go.

The music still thrums in your bones.

“You okay there?” The bartender asks kindly.

You grin. “I’m perfect. I need water, actually. Three of them, please.”

“Coming right up.”

While he fetches bottles, you swat absentmindedly to the beat. Your hips can’t help it; your body’s still warm and fizzy with movement. You’re already imagining going back to the girls— Prism will cheer, Malevola will pretend she hates water and drink it anyways.

You’re happy. Soft around the edges. Untethered in the nicest way.

Which is why the voice behind you makes you jump.

“You dance pretty good for someone who looks like they’re reading a book in the corner.”

You blink and turn. A man. Older than you by at least a decade. Close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath.

You step back politely. “Oh— thanks? I think? Just having fun.”

“Come dance with me.”

You shake your head with a strained smile. “I’m with friends right now.”

He leans closer. Too close. “You can come back to them later.”

“No, really,” you say with that firm softness you’ve perfected. “I’m good.”

He reaches out— two fingers hooking your wrist.

Not hard, but insistent.

Something cold flickers under your ribs.

“I said come here—“

“And she said she’s not interested.”

The voice slips in behind you, smooth as velvet and twice as dangerous.

You don’t have to look to know who it is. The sense of safety that blooms in your chest is instantaneous.

Victor steps between you and the man, posture lazy, smile dreamily calm— the way people smile right before they ruin someone’s whole evening.

“She’s good,” Victor says lightly. “You can go.”

The man scoffs. “Mind your business.”

Victor’s smile widens, slow and soft. Too soft.

“My guy,” he says, “her heart rate just jumped like thirty beats in three seconds. The only time it does that is when she’s scared or when I make her laugh. And trust me— you aren’t funny.”

Your face warms.

Even tipsy, you glare at him for that.

Victor’s eyes flick to you. His smile softens in a completely different way.

Then he turns back to the man, voice a breath colder. “Last chance.”

The man mutters something and disappears.

You sag against the bar, breath leaving your lungs in a rush.

Victor turns to you immediately, brows knitting.

“You okay?” He murmurs. “He didn’t hurt you?”

“No,” you say softly. “He just… grabbed my wrist.”

You lift your hand.

Victor gently takes it, checking the skin like he’s memorizing it.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you say again. “Just startled me.”

His jaw flexes.

Then— very quietly— “Your heart’s still fast.”

You make a small noise. “Victor…”

He leans closer, lips brushing your temple. “I’m just saying. I can hear everything.”

You hide your face with one hand. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“That’s okay. You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

You nearly perish.

He steadies you with a warm hand at the small of your back after paying the bartender, guiding you gently through the crowd like you’re something precious he’s holding onto.

You don’t mind his touch.

You lean into it, actually.

Somewhere between the bar and your friends, you realize your smile hasn’t left once.

Prism cries out: “Hydration goddess returns!”

Malevola steals her bottle instantly.

But Victor doesn’t let go of your waist.

He doesn’t even pretend to.

The next song swells— something slower, sweeter, warm as honey over the speakers. You finish sipping your water, and Victor steps in front of you.

“Dance with me,” he says quietly.

You open your mouth automatically to deflect— but then close it. Because you want to. Because the adrenaline hasn’t faded yet. Because you feel good. Loose. Brave.

So you smile— one of your real ones, brought and soft and a little mischievous.

“Only if you promise not to make fun of my moves.”

Victor nearly stops breathing. “Sweetheart, I’ve been watching you dance all night. I’m trying not to propose.”

Your laugh is light and breathless. “Oh my god, Victor—“

He pulls you closer.

And then closer still.

The beat vibrates through your ribs as you settle your hands behind his neck, burying them into the fur there. You fit against him so naturally it’s almost unfair. His palms drift to your hips, thumbs brushing skin.

“You scared me earlier,” he murmurs into your hair.

You sway with him, voice gentle. “I’m alright now.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “I can hear that too.”

You roll your eyes. “You and the heartbeat thing.”

“What?” He teases. “It’s convenient. Like having a built-in lie detector for flirting.”

“I’m not flirting,” you say.

“Liar.” He leans down. “Your heart just jumped again.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” he whispers. “You like me. A lot.”

You lift your head, meeting his eyes. “And if I do?”

He stares at you.

Something shifts in his face— something unguarded, warm, and a little awed.

“Then,” he says softly, “I’m the luckiest idiot in this place.”

Your breath catches.

He doesn’t kiss you.

But he rests his forehead against yours, swaying you gently while lights paint your skin in stripes of blue and pink.

“Do me a favor?” He murmurs.

“What?”

“Don’t wander off alone again. Please.”

You place a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing the fur just under his eye.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I won’t.”

Something in him unspools at that.

You feel it in the way he exhales— long, quiet, relieved. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you close like the promise matters more to him than the air in his lungs.

And for the rest of the song, you dance slow— his heartbeat, your heartbeat, and the club’s heartbeat weaving into something soft and bright and real.

- haven't you ever thought of having a fuzzy boyfriend? Of course you have! (Why haven't you?) Well, Sonar is perfect for you. He's got the fuzz, the fur and the cool looking face and SUCH a boop-able snoot. But remember, you're the only one he'll ever let boop it.

- Sonar wasn't extremely affectionate to a fault, but the moment he figured out what affection was... Sonar is the equivalent of a big dog-cat. He loves his fur and fluff being pet and scratched, especially under his chin like a dog and the top of his head. He probably purrs a little too, of its possible. He loves being pet. He's absolutely smitten really, the way his eyes droop when you pet him and the way his head just drops onto your hand. God, he was down bad for you.

- I've seen Sonar fanart where he's all fluffy leading down to a 'happy trail' so we'll go with that, fluffy shoulders and upper body leading down in a V shape. Anyways... Hes very fluffy. His fur is super soft and you're always welcome to pet it. You're really the only person allowed to, he doesn't really let anyone else touch him at all.

- and when he transforms, before he could control it, he'd just calm down around you. The first time it happened around you, everyone else is hiding in the other room, he catches one scent of you and all the violence just drops. You slowly held your hand out to him so he'd recognize you, and he sniffs your hand and presses his nose against your palm, relaxing and rubbing against it like a dog demanding pets. It was adorable. And your voice was like a soothing lullaby, you could command the big bat-dog with just a word.

- You'd always giggle when Robert would flinch around his 'screaming' and he'd just get annoyed. We could technically pretend he doesn't have the best eyesight purely out of headcanon, because actual bats being blind is actually a myth.

- ever since he met you, he's almost completely stopped all drugs. He doesn't want you to see him like that, he also doesn't want you thinking that's all he is or leaving him if it ever got bad. He also doesn't want you to worry. He really tries to put everything bad behind him. Aside from the occasional drinks or barely-ever sniff of cocaine at a club, he's really trying to do better for you. He doesn't even do crypto anymore.

- Sonar doesn't really get jokes. Not embarrassingly so, he's more of a blunt humor guy so you'll always be helpful when explaining a joke the team made that he doesn't understand.

- 'the whole rabies thing' yeah, well...he accidentally bit you once and no, he doesn't have rabies, but you got a scar and now he likes to mark his territory. Especially during- AHEM- sexual...interactions. Which you do have, of course, this is a healthy relationship.

-Hes a nice mix of rough and gentle. He's a big strong guy, but he also just likes to take his time and enjoy the moment with you. He's great with aftercare aswell, loves cuddling up after a nice bath together and you think its fun to dry his fur off roughly with a towel and watching his how his fur looks all skrunkly and messy half-dry.

- Unapologetically, he loves seeing you in lacy lingerie and purposely buys you the fancy satin shit because you just look so good in it and he gets turned on and hard so quickly that the clothes basically come off immediately after. He'll never shy away from whispering soft praise and compliments under hot breaths.

- He just bites you sometimes for pure enjoyment or to assert dominance around other males. He's a little jealous which usually means vulgarly insulting the opposition. Might be a little overprotective, just because you're HIS special person. He cares about you a lot, always overworried about your safety and health even if you're the strongest person he knows.

- whether or not you're a member of the team, he introduced you to his bestie Malevola (/drug sponsor?) Of course he wants his two favorite people to get along, but unexpectedly you two really hit it off and became friends, which makes him extremely happy and relieved. He just really wanted everything to work out.

- he's a great listener! He loves hearing you talk, he could listen to you ramble and rant for hours and even fall asleep to it. You're voice is just so soothing and he can sit there for hours on end, completely still as he just listens to you.

- he loves twinks. I mean twinkies. (Probably). But that's his go-to snack, so he'll be super happy if you bring him a pack of twinkies snack. He might eat bugs, but he also still eats normal food, so he loves your cooking. To him, you make the best food in the world and he's always excited to get home and enjoy your delicious cooking. He swears he'll marry you soon.