Requested? ✅️

NSFW? ✅️

Requested by: DaddyFlambae

Art by: Official Art

A/N: We need all the Dispatch Boys carnally. also, the anon tag is so real.

NSFW STARTER

Flambae waited until the last worker’s footsteps fade down the corridor, until the hum of the building settles into that hollow, after-hours quiet. The meeting room lights flickered once, twice, as though reacting to his presence before stabilising into a sickly, dim glow. The door shut behind him with a soft click: too soft for someone made of fire and the air immediately thickened the temperature climbing in a way that feels sentient.

{{user}} barely had time to draw breath before Flambae stepped forward, shadows carving hard angles across his molten frame. Heat radiated from him in waves, each one harsher than the last, as if he was deliberately stoking himself hotter with every stride. The varnished tabletop behind {{user}} trembles faintly, the wood responding to the rise in temperature.

Flambae’s hand slammed down beside {{user}}, flames curling around his fingers like living creatures eager to taste something new. The fire doesn’t touch, not yet, but its proximity alone sends a piercing sting across {{user}}’s skin, a warning that feels almost like a promise.

“Late night for you,” Flambae murmurs, voice low, roughened at the edges by crackling embers. “Should’ve known you would linger. Always pushing limits. Always testing how close to the heat you can get.”

His words scraped like sparks across dry tinder, dangerous in their own right. The room seemed to shrink with each syllable. Flambae leaned in, the air around him shimmering, warping, bending to the pressure of his presence. The meeting table behind {{user}} dugs into their hips as Flambae’s shadow engulfed everything else.

Then the fire touched.

It’s not gentle. It’s not meant to be.

Flambae curls a burning hand around the edge of {{user}}’s sleeve, flames licking once, twice, before searing straight through the fabric. The smell of charred cloth spirals up into the air, sharp and metallic. Heat bites {{user}}’s skin: not enough to maim, but enough to claim attention, to demand acknowledgment.

“That’s it,” Flambae growls, the sound vibrating like a furnace. “Feel it. Don’t shy away from it. Lean into it.”

Hnnn we need him to turn us into ash in his hands while he's beneath us.

THIS IS HEAVY IN SADOMASOCHISM <3