#and for once a fic that doesn't have Tails in it yet

[dual-cetacean]

"Arthur Pendragon, the newly crowned King of Britton, is weary of the new life he leads. The battle that solidified his rule drained him of his vigour, and he aches to be carefree once more as he was as a mere squire. He treks into the Dark Woods to unwind from a stressful exchange of power. Unaware that this moonlit night would forever change his life."

Heyo! Here I am with the poll winner from last week (and a few more days)! It's Sonadow hours (Arthlot? I don't know their ship name, but it's King Arthur/Lancelot)

You can find the backstory for this fic under "Keep reading," as I go off on a tangent about its historyfic.

Please enjoy!

This fic is older than all of my other sonic fics. I am not kidding; I've had this draft lying around in my backlog for so long that I have screenshots of its layout and how I was supposed to present this on AO3. The date is September 2023, but my document files say December 2022. Since I usually type fics together in one document before deciding it can have its own document, so it is even older than that. This was supposed to be up ages ago, but I never found the courage and got swept away by the excitement of Sonic Prime. Even though I call myself a recent Sonic fan, that's not true. I grew up with Sonic X and read Sonic fan fiction on Fanfiction.net. (Oh, where has the time gone.)

Bit of a trigger warning for incest and statutory rape. As in mentioned, nothing is talked about graphically.

Now, while I am very particular about using canon as a guideline and knowing the source material like the back of my hand, this is one of my works where I will not do that. A lot of fucked up shit happens in the original compiled story of L' Morte d'Arthur (The Death of King Arthur). I will explain further in the ending notes of the fic, but for one, Arthur is aged up to 19 years old. As in the original legends, he is just called young, which is very vague. He is rewarded sex by a tavern woman for winning the battle, but it is implied she is much older than him. His age is unknown, but an opposing king calls him a beardless boy playing at being a king, and while there are plenty of men who grow a beard well into their adulthood or never, the implication of Arthur's youth and inexperience with life makes me deeply uneasy. So obviously, none of that shit is in here. Canon or not, fanfiction is here to have fun, and I won't write what makes my skin crawl.

I put this on the poll, not knowing if people would want to read this. But seeing as the poll was held on Tumblr, I should not have been surprised that it won by a landslide. I had forgotten how popular this niche ship is within the Sonadow community. And hey, I'm not complaining! I'm all too happy to share this. I read Sonadow since I was a teen, and Lansoni was a guilty pleasure of mine. I am all too happy to add to the collection! Although it is not really Lansoni as it is Sonic as King Arthur, and not actually Sonic being isikai-ed.

I am probably going to go on a SATBK binge after this. It is so weirdly nostalgic for me.

[rosenclaws]

The Wolverine and His Bunny || Logan Howlett x Bunny Girl!Reader

summary: You and Logan have always butted heads and his constant, condescending reminders of your mutation don't help. It's not until your forced to train together and well, the tension is undeniable

warnings: MINORS DNI, SMUT, 18+ ONLY, fem!reader, rough sex, a variety of bunny themed nicknames (Bunny, thumper, carrots), creampie, manhandling, pain kink (Logan), doggy style, dirty talk, blow job, mirror sex, slight choking, degradation, praise, he plays with your bunny ears oops, enemies to lovers kinda? Logan's a dick at first, teasing, being pinned down.

Don't like it don't read it :)

Halloween Masterlist

wc: 3.7k

a/n: Okay look, I thought this was hot and so I wrote it. Anyways happy October first everyone! Hoping to add my degeneracy to the long list of fics to come. This also ended up being more. angsty than i mean it to be. I think I have an angst problem oops

You hated him so much. He was. He was just a massive dick for no reason and you hated people like that. You get that he was the all mighty Wolverine who was indestructible or whatever but if he could act like a normal person for once in his life that would be great.

He wasn't even the leader of the damn team and yet every one seemed to act like he walked on fucking water. It's not like he was the only one on the team either. He may tell everyone he's a loner and he doesn't need help but we're the X-Men. Not just Wolverine.

It's just not fair.

You had the perfect plan. Planned down to the very second and Logan had to go and fuck it all up. Maybe it was an honest mistake but you highly doubted it. He always had a problem with you. You didn't understand why. The moment you showed up to the mansion he was hostile. Calling you stupid, condescending nicknames because of your mutation while ignoring the part of it that made you super smart.

You were fuming when the team got back from the mission. You stormed right past everyone to get to Logan. They shoot you apologetic looks but you paid them no mind.

"Logan!"

"What's got your panties in a twist bunny?" He leans against the jet hangar door. A cigar already lit in his mouth.

"Don't call me that asshole!" You shove his chest but he doesn't move. Your nose twitching in anger as he just laughs.

"I had a plan Logan. A good plan. A perfect. Plan. So tell me why as soon as you had the chance to, you ruined it!" He scoffs and blows a puff of smoke in your face. Your ears flatten against your head as you wave the smoke away.

"We finished the mission didn't we?." He says with a smirk. If this were a cartoon you'd surely have steam coming out of your ears by now.

"God you're nothing but a slimy little weasel sometimes!" You push your finger into his chest. He pushes your hand away and bares his teeth like an animal.

"You have no idea what it's like to actually be on the field so why don't you tuck your little tail between your legs and run back to the lab."

"Logan! That's enough." Jean scolds him harshly as you turn around and storm out of the room.

You feel tears welling up in your eyes but you force them down. Fuck him, you were an important part of the team. Whether he liked it or not.

It's like he lived to torture you. Ever since the day you told him off he seemed to just. appear. Constantly. Wherever you were he was there too. In the kitchen? He strolls right in for a soda. In the training room? He's already there. All sweaty and grunting and gross. You're outside near the water fountain, guess who strolls right on up. It was like he was stalking you or something.

Your ears perk up as you hear footsteps approaching your classroom. You taught most of the high level classes, the advanced ones for students who wished for more academic classes. So their tests were more complex to grade which is why you were still here so late into the night. Your nose twitches as a familiar scent fills your nose. Without even looking you let out a long sigh.

"What do you want weasel?"

"Now that's not very nice of you." Logan says with a smirk as he sits in the chair across from your desk. He puts his feet up on your desk. Right on top of the stack of papers.

"Can't you go bother someone else? Please. Like anyone else." He grins and you roll your eyes.

"But I just love your company." His voice is dripping with playful sarcasm.

"You're going to work yourself to death carrots. It's not good for you." The truth is he came to try and apologize for the other day but he just hasn’t found the right time. Okay well there’s been good times but he was never able to get the words out. So here he is trying his best.

He stands up and leans over your desk. You have to admit he's certainly an overwhelming presence. His face is inches away from yours, eyes staring into your soul with a wolfish grin on his face. He picks the pen out of your hand and throws it over his shoulder.

"Why not take the stick out of your ass and have a little fun?" Wow, for a second there you almost thought he cared.

"You know what Logan, just leave me alone."

"You know I'm trying to be nice here and all I'm catching is attitude." He growls. You slam your hands on the desk and stand up. Getting close to his face as your ears flatten. "

Nice? You think you're being nice?" You laugh in his face and he pushes back. Papers fly everywhere.

"Fine, work yourself to death I don't fucking care." He storms out of your room and slams your door loudly.

"Asshole!" You yell back. You turn back to see the mess of papers and sigh. Great, now your night got even longer. Logan mutters angrily as he stalks through the halls. So much for trying.

It's been at least a couple weeks since that night with Logan and thankfully he's finally decided to leave you alone. You barely saw him and in a weird way, you kind of missed him. Kind of. Barely. In fact you really enjoyed the peace. Your ears definitely didn't perk up when you heard Logan's voice on the other side of Professor Xavier's office. You push through the door and find Logan looking very pissed off.

"You wanted to see me?" You glance over at Logan who was fuming silently.

"Yes, I think it's time you join the team. On the field." You widen your eyes in surprise. You never considered yourself to be a field agent. Your mutation wasn't exactly built for combat. You were speedy but that's about it. Strategy and smarts were much more your speed.

"I think bringing you out on the field would be an immense help to your battle tactics. As Logan so kindly put it, being on the field is different from watching on the outside." You flash back to the harsh words Logan had said to you a while ago.

Logically it would be helpful for you to observe what missions were like first hand but you don't think you needed to be there. Still to get yourself a suit and be part of the team sounded nice too.

"And since it was his idea, Logan will be your instructor."

"What?!"

"Absolutely not." Charles gives you both a look, one that said to quiet down and you both reluctantly listen.

"I am not a fool,  the two of you need to learn to work together. My decision is final." His tone leaves no room for argument and the two of you leave with scowls on your face.

"Alright thumper, here’s how it’s going to go. Tomorrow. 7am in the training room. Think you can handle it?” He places his hand near your head. You roll your eyes and duck under his hand.

“Yeah yeah, see you then Weasel.”

It feels like this was meant to be a punishment more than an assignment. You get that you and Logan haven’t. exactly gotten along but to stick you together like this? That’s just mean. You showed up right at 7am the next morning dressed in workout clothes. Logan is already there dressed in his little gray sweatshirt, white tank top and sweatpants.

“So you didn’t run away? Good bunny.” He smirks as your face scrunches up in anger.

“Fuck off.” You’re already dreading this. If you could just survive an hour then you could never deal with him again.

"Okay, show me what you got." He stands in the center of the mat. Arms at his side with an expectant look on his face.

"What?"

"I heal bunny, so give me all you got. I need to see what I'm working with here." You take a deep breath and launch an attack.

You weren't helpless by any means but you weren’t on the same level as Logan, even you could admit that. He barely flinched as you darted around the room. Striking him in a few places but he just stood there. It was starting to piss you off. You get that you weren’t the fiercest but he could at least try and fucking help instead of wearing you out like this. You look around the room and see wooden poles used for combat training. He never said you had to just use your hands. You dart across the room and grab one, swinging it hard against his back. To your surprise it completely breaks. Shattering on impact. He grabs the broken half that’s left in your hands and pulls it out of them.

“That’s cheating,”

“No it’s not. I was just using my resources.” He laughs and grabs your wrist. He slowly backs you up until you hit the wall.

“Oh yeah? What you’re gonna find a really big stick out in the field?” He mocks.

“This is useless.” He lets go and walks away from you.

You feel anger bubbling up in your chest. You don’t belong. You’re useless. What good are you to the X-Men? You are sick and tired of hearing shit like this all the fucking time and Logan was the worst about it. You launch yourself at him. Running as fast as you can and jumping on his back. It blindsides him, he tumbles to the ground. He grunts as you start to hit his back hard.

“What is your fucking problem!” He pushes you off and you wince as you hit the mat. You scramble away before he can get up and jump back onto him. Legs straddling his waist as you push his shoulders.

“Why do you hate me so much?! What did I do to you?!” You take a swing and hit him square in the jaw. He looks surprised but shakes it off easily. He doesn’t fight back, more in shock than angry at this point.

“I get that I don’t have metal claws and I can’t move stuff with my mind but I’m part of the team too!” You swing your fist again but he catches it this time. He grabs your other one and pushes you to the ground roughly.

“Fuck off!” You hiss as he crawls on top of you. He’s heavier than a fucking boulder as he practically pins you to the ground.

“No you shut up and fucking listen.” He growls. He still has your hands pinned to the floor. An almost animalistic look on his face.

“You are so infuriating, everything about you drives me fucking crazy. So pretty, so smart, so easy to rile up.” He purrs. Your body feels like it’s on fire. What the hell is he even talking about?

“I say things without thinking sometimes but you, you make it so hard. Always running your mouth.” You squirm under him, trying to get free.

Then. He moans. He fucking moans.

You stop moving and stare up at him in surprise. Then you feel something hard against your stomach. Oh. He’s hard.

“No fucking way.” You say with a smirk. He may be on top of you but right now it feels like you have all the power here.

“Don’t tell me you were an absolute dick because you liked me?” He doesn’t deny it. Instead pressing you harder into the mat.

“Shut up.”

“Couldn’t handle your feelings so you decided to tease me like a fucking schoolboy.” You laugh and try and move your arms but he doesn’t budge.

“You know what I think, I think you need to lose the attitude carrots, I think a nice good fuck would do you good.” You scoff at his words.

“And you think you’re the one to do that? You couldn’t make a girl cum if your life depended on it, Weasel.”

“Is that a challenge bunny? Come on, say it.” He’s hot and horny but he’s giving you a way out.

If you tell him to fuck off he’ll leave and you both can forget about it, but if you don’t. If you say you want this. Well he’ll finally shut you up like he’s been dreaming about. There’s a moment of silence between the two of you. He’s breathing heavy like an animal and you’re studying his every move. Was this a bad idea? Probably. But you couldn’t deny that Logan was hot and right now all you wanted was to suck him off until he was milked dry. Shit.

“You can try, but I bet you won’t even last a minute.” He practically pounces on you. His face is buried in your neck as his hips grind against yours. You gasp as he bites your neck harshly. Eyes fluttering shut as he kisses it better.

“Dreamed of this, my bunny all wet and needy for me.” He nibbles up to your ears. Practically purring at how soft they feel.

“Not your bunny yet.” You bite back. He lets go of your wrists and sits up on his knees. He rips open your bra without the least bit of resistance. Mouth drooling as he stares at your tits.

“Fuck me.” He mutters as he harshly gropes your chest.

His thumb flicks over your nipple and you let out a squeak of pleasure. The last thing you wanted was for him to get an ego but fuck the way his hands feel on you is just so good. They’re rough and calloused and he is relentless in his movements. You almost whine when he stops playing with them, already missing his touch. He sheds his tank top, leaving him in all his muscled glory.

“Like what you see?” He asks cockily as he takes his pants off too.

“You fucking wish.” You mutter unconvincingly. You take your nails and rake them down his chest making him moan.

“You like a little pain don’t you.” You tease, digging your nails into his skin harder.

“Maybe I do.” You yelp as he shreds your pants and underwear to shreds.

“Those were fucking expensive asshole-Fuck!” You gasp as he buries his face into your cunt. His hands locked on your thighs, moving isn’t an option as he practically inhales your cunt.

“Smells so sweet, can always smell you bunny but up close is just. So much better.” You feel yourself start to melt under his rough hold. He’s absolutely overwhelming.

“Maybe later I’ll finally get a taste but right now I think I need to put your mouth to better use.” He pulls you up onto your knees. Stroking his cock as he pushes you down. Shit he’s big but you don’t even react, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“Come on bunny, open up. Be a good girl for me.” Fuck him if he thinks he’s going to be in charge here. You smirk and take him as far down as you can.

“Fuck!” He hisses, not prepared for you to do that.

“Fuck slow down.” There's a hint of desperation in his voice and you feel a sense of pride. You pull back and spit on his cock. Using your hand you coat it, looking him right in the eyes as you roughly move your hand along his cock.

“I think you need a lesson too,” His eyes roll to the back of his head as you take as much of him as you can.

Choking as the tip hits the back of your throat. You are unrelenting, eating up every little desperate sound that’s coming from his lips. Not so tough now are you Logan you think as you feel him twitching in your mouth. He’s so damn close and its driving him wild. You feel a heavy hand bunch your ears and pull you off.

“As much as I want to come down your throat and watch you swallow it all…” He wipes some drool off your face as talks.

“I need to be inside that cunt.” Then he grabs your face and kisses you, actually kisses you. You’re startled at first but melt into it. His lips are rough and he smells so much like tobacco and whiskey but fuck its intoxicating. He’s big, rough, and so fucking hot.

“You’re soaking wet bunny.” He taunts as he cups your cunt with his hands.

“I bet you’re just aching to be filled. Don’t worry, I can help.” He manhandles you with his crazy strength till you're on your knees facing the mirrors.

“See, you’re just shaking with anticipation.” He grins wickedly as he cups your face and forces you to look into the mirror.

He’s not wrong. He’s big and you can feel his cock nudging its way into your cunt. You’re panting, hair a mess. His hand looks so good around your neck and he looks even more delicious. Your vision blurs as he slides himself inside of you. The air is knocked out of your lungs as you feel nothing but Logan. Head up in the fucking clouds as he gives you a moment to relax, whispering sweet words to help ground you back to earth.

“Is your dick inside of me the only way to get you to be nice?” You ask breathlessly. Logan grunts, not happy that you’re still able to speak beyond moaning his name.

“I can be nice, I can be real nice.” He slides out of you at a slow, agonizing pace before thrusting harshly back in. You claw at the mat as he sets a brutal pace. In and out. Slow and hard. Pulling desperate sounds from the depths of your throat.

“Logan please!” You beg, you need him so bad. Need to feel him, need him to rearrange your fucking guts. “

So polite, now that’s more like it.” He leans in and kisses your neck roughly.

Claiming you as his own in his own animalistic way. He would tease you, continue to pull you apart on his cock for hours if he could. But the truth is he needed you. A deep carnal desire to render you completely fucked out. He leans back, pulling your back to his chest. He guides your hands to his arm.

“Hold on bunny.” Your nails sink deep into his skin, drawing blood as he sets a brutal pace.

Pounding into you so hard you see stars. Fucking hell super human strength and stamina really is a gift. He coos in your ear when he notices you starting to slump in his arms. Your legs burned, he was reducing you to a puddle of nothing.

“You okay pretty? Feel too good doesn’t it.” You nod, words not forming in your brain anymore.

All you feel is pure bliss and Logan feels a surge of pride in being the one to do this. You catch his gaze in the mirror. His eyes filled with pure, raw lust. His face was twisted in focus, brows furrowed and mouth slightly open. His muscles were bulging with every move. You couldn’t stop yourself from look. Watching as he buried his cock into you.

“I know you’re close, it’s okay. I got you bunny.” One of his hands slips down between your legs. He draws tight, harsh circles on your clit making you cry. You’re squirming wildly, it feels too good. His fingers are too much but you don’t want him to stop.

“Shh, that’s it. Just relax.” He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as you come hard.

Your legs can’t stop shaking. Logan tightens his grip on you, keeping you up right as he fucks into you hard. Chasing his own release, thrusting wildly and you fucking swear he whimpers as he stills his hips deep inside. Filling you up and then some. It’s a real shame when he pulls you, an empty feeling overtaking you. He loosens his grip and you almost face plant onto the mat.

“Logan..” You whine and he helps maneuver you to your back.

“Sorry carrots, didn’t mean to let you fall.”

“Don’t call me carrots.” You mumble, still completely exhausted.

“Okay, whatever you say, carrots.” You huff as Logan helps you stand up.

Your clothes are completely ruined but he somehow finds some extra sets of clothes in the closet. When did he even get up? Maybe you were still a little lost.

“Hey, you okay?” He cups your face gently. A slight look of worry in his face.

“Aw, you do care.” You tease. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t let go of you.

“I always cared.”

“Had a real shit way of showing it.” You snort and he just smiles softly.

“Yeah. Guess I did.” To your embarrassment you still can’t exactly walk right. Luckily Logan is right by your side. You mentally prepare yourself to tell people you hurt your leg or something when they ask why you’re limping so bad.

“I still don’t know what I did to make you hate me.” You say quietly as you reach your dorm room. He sighs and gently plays with your ears. It tickles.

“I don’t hate you, I never did. I just. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He can’t articulate just why he acted the way he did. He wants to, he really does but it just. Doesn’t come out. There's a long history of pain and loss and while you want to know why, an apology is certainly a start.

“Thank you,” He smiles softly, then realizes he’s probably overstayed his welcome. As if you two weren’t fucking in the training room less than 10 minutes ago.

“Do you want to stay?” He hesitates, unsure if this is truly what you want. If this line is ready to be crossed.

“You owe me for ruining my clothes. Just one nap.” He relents, it’s easy when you’re looking at him like that.

“Okay bunny. Just one nap.” He shuts the door behind him, crawling into bed with you.

He feels a rumble in his chest as he sinks into your bed. You’re soft and it feels like he’s meant to be here. You fall asleep quick, body aching and practically screaming for you to sleep. Logan stays awake for a while, just okay with being here. Just one nap he tells himself. 

He’s lying. It’s never going to be just one nap.

[sleepy-fiction]

Gold Ring.

-sebastian solace x reader

2k words

syn: he was a married man, yet he forgets when he's with you.

tgs: fluff, sfw (read a/n), sappy, feel-good, comfort, genderless reader

A/N: guys NO hate to Zerum at all. I just liked the idea of sebastian having a wife but learning true love and self worth from you. This fic is fluff sfw, but there are very mild dirty descriptions used sometimes. MDNI

Predator eyes loom through the darkened abyss. Sweaty, slobbering, hungry for a quench. He can't fight it. He knew you before you met him. He's seen the way you huddle to yourself, the way you persisted in this hell, the way you crawl to him whenever you're scared. How you count down the floors until you can rest-- on him.

He was the first once to make a move.

You bargained to sleep in his little room, yet you laid rest so far away from him. He didn't understand the flithy, possessiveness that growled in his hungry belly. It sent a pissed shiver from the tops of his head that rattled down to his tail.

He remembers the flinch you made at the sight.

He knows that he shouldn't, but fuck he wanted you closer then. No, he wants you closer, all the time.

He never knew romance until he pulled you over to him, the way he wrapped his tail around you like a snake. The way he blew it off with his typical banter, but God help him, the way he remembers your sleeping form carrying a smile throughout your dreams. Content- about him.

Times with his wife were never like this. He didn't know he was capable of feeling such intense desire. He's kissed, held, and he's lpved on and received. It remembers how the saying goes. If you love them, then you'd let him go. He went without a fuss here, content with the idea of his wife enjoying their freedom. But God knows, the idea of you, some inmate who waltzed into his life, leaving? No, it couldn't happen.

It was the pining that eventually sold his fate.

The yearning.

He'd find rocks the colors of your eyes to collect, most likely debris scattered from all the grubby inmates swarming the place just so he could keep something of yours nearby. Whenever he heard the echoing sounds of footsteps, the crawling through his vents, he perfectly memorized your sound yet still found his heart beating in hope even when he knew it couldn't be you.

He had grown overly accustomed to your dynamic. How you acted in playful defiance but respected him and his boundaries so much. He's never met an expendable quite like you, one not pushy- touchy- or downright evil. Even in a group setting, as you sometimes venture into a teams. You're always batting those pretty little eyes at him, saying thank you and apologizing on their behalf.

You're overly aware of him. Scanning his face, always checking for his contentment.

It was cute. You were discreet like a mouse.

For some reason, you had some staring problem. Always gazing with those eyes. So full of admiration for the brutish monster he had become. Those glances certainly didn't help him. You had to be some freak to like someone like him the way he is now. What about him could ever be attractive?

Don't think he doesn't notice the way you fidget in embarrassment whenever he tucks his hair behind his ears.

You get all shy when he gets close. You get shy whenever he escalates your banter- albeit painfully teasing you- but still-- it affects you.

He affects you.

That's a sensation that makes him question his self worth, and your character.

If someone as good as you finds him lovely. Then is he really? Could he really be...

His three blue hands.

Could they ever be loveable again?

It's that question that finally makes all the symptoms that has been building over the months of you being here finally click.

God he's.

He's falling in love with you.

He swallows thick, unable to read the document before his eyes.

Ba-dum, Ba-dum, Ba-dum

His heart races in his chest, his snaggle teeth gnawing against his lip, his eyes shutting impossibly shut. His hands fidget together, and the feeling of cold metal against (what used to be) his ring finger, and guilt swells in his belly.

He's in love with you. When all this time he was working hard to return to her.

He's in love with you. He heart yearns to leave with you and Painter.

He's in love with you. He doesn't feel the same about his wife. His identity is crumbling before his very soul, and it's terrifying.

His only anchor had been his wife the entire time.

His grip goes vice over his wedding ring. A ringing hiss, and a weeping cry flees his meekly throat.

He had a decent life. A woman who loved him.

But if this feeling he's feeling right now for you is love, then...

He shakes his head, his left hand slapping over his mouth, his right still coddling the ring on his smaller hand.

He can't.

He can't think that way.

In no magical universe will he ever get to have you. You'll leave here, he can see it now. It reflects in your eyes, it's this during gleam that no other expendable has.

He'll be left here to rot.

He needs to accept that and not get--

"Sebastian?"

His blood runs cold, his body jolting upright with a fury.

Fuck. He didn't even hear you enter.

A flashlight clicks, shinning at his belly.

He sees you.

You, who always calls his name so softly. So tenderly, full of respect and admiration. You who makes him feel like a person again. You who remembers things about him, you who points lights at his belly because you remember what hurts him.

He can't stop the tear that rolls out.

"Oh no," your voice dips heartbreaking soft as you set the flashlight down, "What's wrong, Sebastian?" You approach him slowly pausing in front of him with your palms up, asking with your body, with your eyes if you could touch him.

He laughs at you. The sound croaks in bittersweetness.

He leans down to your hands, resting his face in your palms. You're so warm, it makes his heart flutter. "It looks you've caught me at a bad time," he says sing-songly.

Your eyes are full of understanding, the way you smile. "Seems so," you say, brimming to see he was okay. You're giving him space, he hates how he begins to yearn.

He can't help it when you're like this.

Sebastian strains.

"Everyone needs to cry sometimes, especially in this place. I cry, too. A lot." You whisper.

But you're still smiling.

God.

He hates you.

He giggles. The sound is so out of character, so school-girlishly giddy. "Fuck," he grimaces as he burries his cheeks into your palm. He knows he cannot physically blush anymore, but he still feels the shame.

He's turning soft.

Soft for such an airhead.

He swallows nervously, looking up to peer into your eyes. You're admiring him again. Your shifty pupils drag up and down his features again and again and again like a broken record. Holding your lips agape, and sucking in swallow breathes, as if the faintest movement from every breathing too intensely would disrupt the view.

He can't take it.

His hands shoot out for you, one on your hip, the other around your waist, the final caressing your back. You squeak as he pulls you completely into him, your feet rising from the floor. You rest your head dazily on his shoulder, as he slithers onto the dark, farther away from your abandoned light.

When you finally stopped moving, you could feel a wall behind Sebastian, as you straddled a leg on each side of his tail, your knees against the floor.

"Sebastian? I can't see you," you whine.

"You don't need to look at me..." He hushes.

Your hands find his cheeks, they're all warmed up from you.

"I need to," you lean in closer, rubbing your nose against his nostril slits. His breath shudders.

"Pull it," He whispers.

You already know as you reach and pull his antenna. A dim warm light illuminates his face, and you smile contently.

Your hands parade through his hair, tucking the strands of his hair back away from his face on both sides; the way you've seen him do many times before.

You've forced him to admit it now.

He's something worth gawking at.

Even like this.

Embarrassment is a surprisingly delicious taste for his belly.

You slide back in his arms, as his hands lean back and fall to his side. All except for his right, which cups a healthy amount of your hip to keep you steady on his tail.

Now it's his turn to admire you.

"Hmm, pretty thing," He mumbles. His smaller hand reaches up your body, his gold ring flashing in the eyes of both of you.

He tenses.

You notice. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you lean in closer to him.

"Sebastian." You blink, empathy driving your veins.

He already knows.

"I used to have a wife. Long before... This happened to me," He whispers it to the air.

Now it's your turn to feel a deep pang in your heart. You know you shouldn't say it, but the words burst out, "Did you love her?"

You watch as a strained smile pulls at him, "N-Not... Not as much as..." He swallows abruptly, "yuh... Y-You."

It all clicks for you.

He's sad over guilt?

You giggle-- and it's almost as painfully giddy as the one he let out before. But it's not enough as thr giggle turns into a laugh. The sound is bright and refreshing to his ears, like rays of forlorn sunshine kissing him. He can't help the way his ears twitch in pure glee.

He'll drink up this sound forever.

"Little cheater," you giggle into his skin as you kiss his cheeks.

He's deeply affected by this! It's not funny!

"Hey." He can't seem to reprimand you, though. "Bastard," He hushes.

You break away finally. And before you could lean in to plant more kisses, his free hands are on you again. Trailing up your body, up your chest (with him seeming to slow down a bit for that part), then to your shoulders, to roll down to your lovely hands. Lovely hands that he moves to place on his meaty chest.

"Come here," he finally commands, and it's like your knees go weak. The two of you meet in the middle, your lips melting into one another like starved animals. The way you nip and howl in between fervent friction-- friction unknown tp you both since entering this hell hole.

His kisses are filled with longing, desire, full of shivers, full of breathy moans. Sensations that send waves of shivers down to the tips of his tail.

You pull apart to suck on his bottom lip, and with a grunt, Sebastian's mouth cracks open obediently. His large tongue rolls out of his mouth and deep into yours. It's stuffiness enough to make you choke if he wasn't so careful- and if the feeling wasn't so erotic.

Your little alien.

You caress his face all over, your fingertips finding his twitching ears. You pull apart with a hearty smack of the lips, a thin trail of saliva rolling out from you from his large tongue. He picks it up before it could fall to your chin, a satisfied hum from him.

You kiss his round jaw, thumbs caressing circles into his under eyes.

"I love you," Sebastian kisses it into your skin.

"I love you too," you sigh wholeheartedly. You lean in and kiss his tiny third eye, and he hums sing-songly.

Your arms slide around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his jaw, relaxing your body deep into him with a sigh.

You two were so peaceful. You barely noticed the sagging lethal drowsiness in your veins. You haven't slept in... Haven't slept in....

Snorrreeeee...

Sebastian laughs at you. You fell right asleep, just like that? His tail wraps around you like a snake, as his kisses make themselves known to your forehead.

"Goodnight, expendable..." He snickers.

And the gold ring slips from his finger.

To have a future with the benefit of you being there, it's more than just a dream come true.

You accepted him.

He can accept himself, too.

[suguwu]

WOULD THAT I: PROLOGUE

The Gojo boy doesn't have a soulmate.

When you're both children, you overhear him being referred to as inhuman, between his power and his lack of a mark. The next time you see him, you use a marker to write your name on his skin, too young to understand what it means.

You forget, but Gojo—

Gojo never does.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

masterlist

pairing: gn!reader x gojo

wc: 2.6k

notes: thank you to my beta, as always! especially for putting up with my bratty ass and reading this early so i could post it earlier. this has been a fun fic to get started and i hope you enjoy the prologue!

content warnings: none. see masterlist for series content warnings.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate.

You don’t think you’re supposed to know; it’s only ever talked about in hushed voices. The clans all speak like that, sometimes, each word a butterfly’s wing as it flutters from their mouths.

The servants, however, are louder.

One of them has a voice like a lark, a sweet, trilling song. It carries. You learn to hear her coming, to recognize her shadow against the shoji. You know the edges of her by heart. Sometimes she spreads her arms out as she makes her way through the hallway; her kimono sleeves flare out behind her like wings. 

“There’s something wrong with the Gojo heir,” she sings one afternoon, her fluting voice half-muffled by the shoji. “Those eyes of his—it’s like he can see right through you. And Fujioka says he doesn’t have a soulmark.” 

Another servant hushes her. “Don’t gossip,” she chides. 

“It’s true, though!”

“That doesn’t mean you should repeat it.” 

She huffs, grumbling something too soft for you to hear anything aside from the melody of it. The other servant laughs quietly before chivvying her forward. You watch until their shadows disappear, leaving only the hallway light to filter golden through the shoji. 

You return to your coloring book.

The Gojo boy doesn’t have a soulmate, but that doesn’t mean anything to you.

Not yet. 

—

There’s a boy in the courtyard.

He’s hopping from stone to stone in the koi pond, his snow-white hair glittering under the morning sun. He moves like a dancer, each step sure and swift, never once slipping on the wet rock. When he gets to the biggest rock in the pond, he crouches down, his back to you, and drags his fingers over the surface of the water. The koi rise to meet him, firework scales flashing in the sun. 

You watch him from the engawa, peeking out at him from behind one of the columns. You’ve never seen him before, and you’d remember him, with his starlight hair. 

“Who’re you?” he asks, not turning around.

You stay quiet.

“I know you’re there,” he says. “You can’t hide from me.”

He glances over his shoulder and the world goes blue.

It’s the cold burn of a comet’s tail streaking through the velvet night. It’s oceantide, relentless and unyielding. It’s a slice of the sky brought down to earth, heaven devoured.

Then he blinks, and he’s just a boy again. 

“Who’re you?” you ask, stepping to the edge of the engawa. 

He lifts his chin. “I asked you first.”

You introduce yourself the way your mother taught you, bowing to him shallowly. 

He scoffs. “You’re not even from the main clan.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not part of your stupid clan.”

“Oh.”

He stares at you, his crystalline eyes sharp-edged, all prismatic ice. “You don’t know who I am?”

“Nope.”

He rises to his full height, unfolding like an elegant crane. “I’m Gojo Satoru.” 

You tilt your head. The servants’ humming gossip made the Gojo heir sound ethereal, a fallen star that had burned away into human form as it plummeted through the heavens. His eyes are otherworldly, and you can feel the power rippling out from his lean form, as unstoppable as the tides, but—

“You’re just a boy,” you say. 

He scowls. “Am not.”

“Are too.” 

“I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says again, deeper this time, an intonation, a promise, a curse. His eyes flash, St. Elmo’s fire, a lightning strike of blue. “I have the Limitless and the Six Eyes. I’m not just a boy.”

You would believe him, but the last bit sounded more sulky than anything else. You’re about to tell him so when someone calls your name. You glance over your shoulder, but there are no shadows against the shoji yet.

When you turn back around, there are wet patches shining on the stones in the koi pond, an imprint of the past, but nothing else.

The Gojo boy is gone.

—

Your mother is hovering. 

She smooths down your yukata, chasing creases from the thin cotton with trembling hands. There hadn’t been time to change; she’d pulled you out of your lessons and hurried you down the hallways of the estate. 

“Bow low when you meet him,” she tells you, though she hasn’t bothered to tell you who ‘he’ is. “Understand?”

You nod. 

There’s a fine layer of sweat gleaming at your mother’s nape as she kneels before the shoji. She reaches out to open it; her kimono sleeve slips down, revealing the elegant curve of her wrist. You focus there instead of the opening shoji, the slow slide of it a hissing snake, coiled to bite.

The shoji clicks, a chime of teeth, its maw wide open. You take in a deep breath and step through, your gaze on the tatami mats. Someone shifts.

“Oh, it’s you.”

You glance up, directly into the gaze of Gojo Satoru. His eyes are as otherworldly as you remember, a crisp, clear blue framed in long lashes, like a snowy-edged mountain lake. He tilts his head as you gape, his hair gleaming bone-white in the sun streaming through the open shoji. 

You blink. “What’re you doing here?” you ask, and next to you, your mother hisses in a low, sharp breath. 

Gojo shrugs. “Dunno. The clan said I had to come and they caught me when I snuck out.”

The woman behind Gojo clears her throat. “Gojo-sama,” she says, her voice like the shivering leaves when the summer breeze stirs to life, “they’re a candidate for you to train with.” 

He eyes you. “Why?” he asks. “They’re not very strong.”

“Hey!” 

“You aren’t, though,” he says. “I can tell.”

You throw yourself at him.

His eyes widen, a devouring sea, and he grunts as you make impact. He’s sturdier than you thought; he’s slight, but it’s all lean muscle, even though he can’t be much older than you are. Your mother calls out your name, horrified, but Gojo is already recovering, grappling with you for control. 

By the time the adults pull you apart, Gojo is nursing a rapidly-purpling mark high on his cheekbone. Your split lip aches; you tongue at it and wince. You can taste blood, sour and metallic. You glare at Gojo even as your mother bows deeply to the woman.

“My deepest apologies,” she says, tightening her grip on the sleeve of your yukata and forcing you to bow with her. “I don’t know what came over them.”

The woman clicks her tongue. “The child should be punished,” she says, and your mother stiffens. “I would suggest—”

“No.” 

Everyone looks at Gojo. He thumbs at a rip in his kimono, grinning widely. It bares his teeth. 

“I’ll train with them,” he says.

“Gojo-sama—”

“I said I’d train with them. Now can we go? I want a popsicle.” 

The woman sighs. “Yes, Gojo-sama.” 

Gojo sweeps by you and your mother. He pauses right next to you. “You’re weak,” he tells you, ignoring the way you bristle, “but at least you’re fun.”  

He’s out the shoji before you can respond.

—

Summer settles over Kyoto, a wet lick of heat. Even the wind seems to feel it; it ripples honey-slow through the trees, barely strong enough to stir the air. Frogs move into the koi pond in the courtyard; they sing along with the cicadas’ sawing choir. 

“Catch it!” Gojo shouts as your hands spear through the murky pond water. It gushes free from between your fingers as you come up empty-handed, the frog you were aiming for frantically disappearing further below the surface. “You’re so slow.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” he counters, holding out his cupped hands. A plaintive ribbit sounds out from between them. “I already caught one. It was easy.”

“You’re annoying.”

He stares at you, his blue eyes icy. “You’re annoying.”  

“You’re the one who came over.”

He rolls his eyes. “We train at your estate.”

“How come?”

“How come what?”

“How come we train here? Your estate is probably better.”

He shrugs, opening his hands enough to peer down at the frog. It glistens in the sunlight, the same deep green as the lush courtyard. It makes a break for freedom; he closes his hands again, his long fingers sewing the gap shut. “I like it better here.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Why?”

“I just do,” he says, voice flat.

You don’t ask again.

—

“Why are we here?”

Gojo blinks, his long white lashes sweeping over the sweet curve of his cheek. “Why are you whispering?”

Your cheeks heat. The Gojo estate is a sprawling, massive maw; you’ve felt devoured ever since you set foot in it. Even the golden light that slants through the shoji feels cold. There are ikebana arrangements lining the halls, the leggy, deep purple irises sculptural as they rise proudly from the vases, but it still feels like a mausoleum. 

“We’ve just never trained here before,” you say, taking care to use your regular voice. “So why are we here now?”

He shrugs. “They insisted.”

“Who?”

He dismisses the question with a wave of his hand, his long pianist’s fingers cutting through the air. You roll your eyes, long used to his occasionally imperious ways. The two of you continue along the hallways, you trailing after him closely, as if caught in his gravity, an orbiting moon. 

You almost run into him when he comes to a sudden halt. You peek around him—in the last few months, he’s gone through a growth spurt, one that your mother says will come when you’re his age, and he’s too tall to peer over his shoulder—and see a servant bowing low, her ebony hair glinting.

“Gojo-sama,” she says. “Please follow me. The elders are waiting.”

He sighs, a dramatic heave of his chest. “What do they want?”

“They didn’t specify.”

“Ugh.”

“Gojo-sama—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he says. “Go tell those geezers I’ll be there soon.” 

You wince right along with the servant. Gojo’s disdain for the elders is not new, but it still unnerves you every time, as if they will come along and smite you down. 

“C’mon,” Gojo says to you. “Let’s get it over with.”

The servant clears her throat. “Only you, Gojo-sama.”

He glares, his blue eyes burning, a comet streaking through the sky. “No,” he says. “They’re coming.”

“They cannot.”

“I said they’re coming.” 

“It’s okay,” you tell him, eyes wide. “Really.” 

Gojo looks back at you. For a second, his mouth is a wound, tender and pink, but in the next breath, it’s gone, frozen under a layer of ice.

“Fine.” 

You bite your lip, but he’s already walking away. You catch yourself before you reach for him. He disappears down the hallway, his hair glinting like exposed bone.

The servant turns to you. “This way,” she says, her voice perfectly neutral.

You follow her to an empty room; she slides the shoji shut behind herself as you settle onto the cushion at the chabudai. You gaze around the room. There’s not much to take in; it’s wealthy in a subdued way. You fidget with the hem of your sleeve and then get to your feet.

You slide open the shoji leading out to the engawa; it opens onto a huge, lush courtyard. The plush flowers are weighted down by their own blooms, their stems curving like a dancer’s back. A shishi-odoshi rings out with a hollow thud; a few songbirds scatter, their wings rustling like leaves as they soar towards the sky. 

You step out onto the engawa. It’s still early enough that the sun slants onto the wood, warming it. You sit down and bask in it, tilting your face up for the sun’s sweet kiss. You lay back, your eyes fluttering shut.

A voice wakes you.

“He’s an insolent brat!” a man hisses. “He needs to be taken in hand!”

“He’s too powerful,” another man answers. His voice is calm, but you can sense the ripples in it, the thing lurking underneath. “We can only do what we’re already doing.”

You go still. They can only be talking about Gojo. Their footsteps echo; they’re drawing closer and closer.

“It’s not enough.” 

“He’s still young. Maybe we can mold him.” 

The first man snorts. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t.” 

“There’s something wrong with that boy,” the first man says. “Those eyes—that power—and not even a hint of a mark. He’s barely human.”

Their footsteps are starting to fade; their voices become murmurs. But you still hear it when the second man says:

“I don’t think he’s human at all.”

Then they’re gone, fading from your world like malevolent spirits, dissipating on the wind. You unclench your fists and find that your nails have bitten into your skin, little half-moon curves cutting through the leylines of your palms. 

Gojo shows up a mere minute later. He slides open the shoji with a bang; his eyes find you immediately. 

“C’mon,” he says, stepping out into the courtyard. His eyes are shadowed; his lips are pulled tight, an unstitched wound. He’s heard them, you realize. You’ve never seen him bothered by other people’s opinions; your chest aches, a pressed bruise. You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words. 

He grabs your hand as he passes by you, tugging you along behind him, ignoring your surprised yelp. “Let’s go before those stupid geezers find me again.” 

“Where are we going?”

“Away from here.”

“But my shoes—”

He glances back at you and you drown in blue. 

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Let’s go.” 

He doesn’t answer; he just tugs you along. You stare at the back of his head for a moment, trying to make sense of the expression you’d seen flash across his face before he’d turned around again. You can’t understand it, but you know one thing.

He’s never looked more human to you.

—

The next time you see him, you’re prepared.

You uncap the marker with your teeth. You reach out for Gojo’s arm; he pulls away before you can grab hold, as quick as a darting fish. 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Give me your arm.” 

“Why?”

“You’ll see.” 

He eyes you for a moment, but gives you his arm.

You push up his yukata sleeve to expose the tender underbelly of his wrist. You start to write, laboring over each stroke of the marker, keeping it as neat as you can. The silver ink covers the rivers of his blue-green veins as it sinks into his skin, a childish tattoo. 

“There,” you say, finishing with a somewhat-shaky flourish. “Now you have a mark.”

Gojo stares at you, his cerulean gaze lit from within, the sea beneath the sun. He covers the katakana of your name with his free hand, careful not to smudge the still-drying characters. Under the shadow, they fade to gray, but they still glint and glimmer the same way real soulmarks do. 

You hum, pleased with yourself, cap the marker, and toss it to the side so you can start training. 

You don’t know it yet, but it’s your last session with him. He disappears into the dawn like a fading star, spirited off to Tokyo to continue his training. You’ve only spent six months with him. Still, it aches, a pressed bruise, but you’ve always known he would outgrow you; his power is a black hole, always devouring. 

Life, ever unmoved, continues on. 

The boy you knew fades from your memories, though you never forget him. It’s impossible, with the stories that come out of Tokyo, how he completes missions that no one his age should be able to handle. 

Still, you forget things. The tilt of his mouth; the cadence of his voice. He becomes a shadow of himself, a shade with burning blue eyes. 

You forget that you once wrote your name on the delicate inside of his wrist. 

Gojo, though—

Gojo never does.

[bamfkeeper]

NSFW Headcannons: Nightcrawler // Oral Sex

a/n: ahaaa well, I got carried away. This is sort of a headcannon/short fic hybrid by the way I wrote them, oops. I didn't expect to write so much but I did. There is a giving and receiving portion below the cut, and the giving portion I wrote both AFAB and AMAB because I want everyone to enjoy. I am an AFAB, so I did my best for the AMAB portion. Receiving was written neutral. I hope you all enjoy <3 also unedited don't mind any errors.

wc: 2238

Minors DNI. 18+ below the cut.

Giving (AFAB)

Kurt loves to give. This man knows just what to do to make you squirm and writhe before he even gets to your core. Before he even starts, he likes to make sure you're comfortable. He lays you on the bed, makes sure you have good pillows and are warm enough, etc.

"Alles gut?" he looks up at you, his yellow eyes hopeful you are comfortable.

He always starts with gentle kisses, placing them on your body and trailing them down. He begins at your lips, moving down your cheek and neck, teasingly kissing your nipples before continuing his trail.

He might even get a little cheeky and give you a raspberry, something he will also do if you feel nervous. He likes to ease the tension and your nerves as much as possible.

He will then kiss over the sensitive, thin skin of your pelvic area and gently move your legs to fall open and reveal your vulva. He will be excited and curious, his fingers caressing you and feeling around, but not touching your core just yet.

A few tender kisses to your inner thighs, along with a soft nip, and he looks up once more to silently ask for permission. When he gets confirmation, he will lean down closer, settling himself.

His fingers will spread you slightly, and his tongue will come out, giving a little lick over you. He starts slow, letting you acclimate to the strange feeling of a tongue lapping your pussy. You'd squirm a little at the feeling, muffling a shy squeak.

"Easy, liebling, I have barely started," he chuckled against your skin, his hands soothingly massaging your thighs as he continued his soft licks.

His curly locks fall over his face slightly as he dives in a little deeper, testing the waters. His tongue dips down your folds, eagerly following the taste of your arousal and where it comes from, finding your entrance. He gently pushes his tongue inside, tasting more of you.

You might jump a little, to which he chuckled again, the deep sound almost vibrating your core and making you whine. But he doesn't play much there, he knows where you feel the most and he lets his tongue come back up and find that sweet little bud.

He is quick, his tongue homing in on it like he had already mapped out your anatomy. He pulls your skin slightly, making the bud more exposed as his tongue makes gentle laps. His saliva coats your clit as he covers it with each lick, making you slightly buck into him, wanting more.

"More? I see your shyness has worn off," he whispers with a smirk, "Do not fret, schatz, I will give you what you want."

He begins suckling, making your eyes widen at the change of sensations. His gentle licks turned into something much more and you couldn't help but whine at it. Your hands grip the bedsheets as he practically nursed on your clit, his tongue flicking and caressing it all the while.

His tail, an ever so sneaky accomplice, sneaks between your legs and teases your entrance. He watches you blush darkly and moan louder, he grinned against you. "Naughty, naughty, little thing. I feel you tighten around my tail...have you thought of this before?"

Oh god, his teasing!

His tongue flicks and swirls, constantly providing stimulation and enough of a variety to keep you struggling. It felt good, so damn good, he knew exactly what to do.

He grabs your hips tighter and buries himself into your pussy, his cheeks dusted purple as he laps and licks and sucks, his half-lidded yellow eyes faintly emitting a soft glow in the dim room. He watches you writhe and moan for him, loving your noises and how you sound.

When you grip his hair, he loses it, and he gets to work on making you cum. Your poor clit doesn't stand a chance.

"Kurt! K-Kurt, ooh god....right there! D-don't....stop...doing that!" you managed through your desperate pants and moans. Your hips grinding up into his mouth as he works you.

When he groaned against your cunt, you couldn't hold back as a wave of an intense orgasm flooded your senses. You cried out loudly, riding it out on his face as your legs wrapped around him, holding him firmly in place, begging him not to stop.

It felt like a wave of ecstasy took over and your back arched, you swore you saw stars and hoped you hadn't gripped his hair too tight. It was a high you rode for several seconds before it faded, and he made sure to suckle and lick until you were surely over.

Kurt only pulled back when you whined and gently nudged his head off you, the overstimulation getting you a little bit, your swollen clit extra sensitive.

"Ah...you are divine, meine fräulein..." he practically purred against you, your clit throbbed with aftershocks, the poor bud swollen and slightly discolored from the sucking.

He makes up for it by kissing you all over, praising you and loving on you, rubbing his head into you and sighing with delight, adoring how he could bring you to such a dazed state.

Giving (AMAB)

No matter what partner, Kurt always makes sure you are comfortable. He will lay you back, smile down at you, those little fangs poke out of his sweet grin.

"Now lay back and let me do the work, liebling..." he whispered softly, nipping your ear as he moved down your body, his hands feeling you sensually until he reached the point of interest.

His eyes sparkled, his tail gently teasing your tip. "You are lovely." he whispered, his hand gently holding your dick and slowly stroking you to full erection. His hands were soft and gentle, he would watch your foreskin peel back as he stroked you if you are uncut, if you are cut, he'd just admire your tip.

Kurt will lean close, his hot breath teasing your sensitive head. He watched the precum bead and smiled, "You are practically weeping..." he whispered teasingly. His tongue darts out and licks over you, tasting your precum.

He will swirl his tongue over your tip, gently letting his tongue cup the tiny slit and gather your precum before he swallows it.

Kurt's hand strokes you as he suckled, his tongue paying close attention to your frenulum.

He will slowly take you in his mouth, inching more with each bob. He looks up at you, his eyes big and he blinks slowly, he holds himself still for a moment so his jaw adjusts to you.

The suckling slowly continued, his hand holds your cock and his other lays flat on your hip. His tail curls around your leg as the spade slowly strokes your side up and down, a comforting gesture.

He pulls off you, his mouth drooling slightly, "Stand, leibling..." he asks, pulling you to stand so he can kneel down, his hands on your thighs as he licks your balls and grins up at you.

His mouth finds your cock, taking you and sucking you again, slowly bobbing his head and trying to take more of you. He will eventually deepthroat you, pushing himself on your dick and gurgling slightly from the build up saliva.

It drools down his chin and bubbles on your cock, he looks up lazily, his nose buried in your pubic hair. He makes a low moan, suckling harder as he deepthroats you.

You can't help but grab onto his hair and lightly thrust towards him, he sits still, his tail swaying behind him as he lets you thrust into his mouth. He has to be careful of his fangs, if he nicks you by accident he is very apologetic.

"Ah- es tut mir Leid," he looked at the little nick and he gently pressed a kiss on the spot. "Forgive me..." he hummed and he would take you back in his mouth.

He sucks well, his tongue does enough and his cheeks will hollow with each bob, he takes you deep as well as plays with your sensitive head just enough to make it feel erotic and sensual.

Kurt likes to make a lot of noise when he sucks dick too, letting you know he's enjoying it just as much as you are.

He squeezes and massages your legs, urging you to cum. He looks up, begging with his gaze. By now he will sit back and allow you to thrust into him to chase your orgasm if you want. Otherwise he will suckle until he hears those gasps and moans he likes to hear from you.

He moans, muffled around you, begging for your cum. His tail will cradle your balls, gently massaging them to entice you even further. He feels your dick throb and twitch on his tongue, he smiles as he continues to suck harder and let his tongue twirl around your tip.

You feel so overly sensitive and then hot, your cock swelling as you let out a pleasured cry. Your legs tremble and you swear your knees might give out.

His eyes will widen when he feels you shoot your load into his mouth, coating his tongue and feeling how you slip down the back of his throat. He blinks, breathing deep and hard through his nose as you ride out your orgasm.

"Mmf...." he moaned softly, sucking the rest of your cum out and only stopping when you tug on his hair softly. He pulls back with a pop and he smiles up at you. "See, I told you...I swallow."

Receiving

He'd rather give, but he won't say no to receiving. He'd agree and he would sit back how you wanted. "Are you sure, liebling? I don't want you to feel like it is a chore..." he whispers gently, his fingers caressing you softly.

You nod, reassuring him that you want to. You slowly lay him back, starting off by kissing him. Your hands gently massaging his chest, trailing down to his abdomen. His breathing is calm, each deep intake seems to increase as your hands move closer to his crotch.

His cock is hard by now, and you trail down to look at his impressive member. It twitches on its own, lightly bobbing. His purple tip flushed as he beaded clear pearls.

His cheeks blush a little as you lean your head down, your lips hovering over his dick and you place little kisses on the underside of his head, making him squirm. "Ah...don't tease me, bitte..." he whispered.

He looked down and watched you suckle around his head, trailing your tongue around his tip and finally over the mound of it. He whines as you suckle on the head and taste more of his precum.

It practically just leaks out at this point.

He didn't taste bad, not overly bitter or salty, which was nice. You continued to suckle before you took more of him in your mouth, figuring your teasing was enough.

You began a steady rhythm, sucking lightly at first and listening to Kurt's moans. His cock twitched in your mouth, his hand shyly hovered over your head. He lightly placed his hand on your head, his fingers moving into your hair and not pushing, but he holds on lightly and lets you continue at your own pace.

"Bitte...faster?" he asks almost meekly, his cheeks a darker shade of purple, not wanting to make you feel pressured, but voicing his desires too.

You complied with him, hollowing your cheeks to suck on him harder and you moved faster on him. He moaned and let his head fall back on the pillow, his hand tightening in your hair as you went.

His tail will curl around you, somehow. Your arm, your leg, anywhere he can get and his free hand will hold onto yours. He likes to feel your hand in his as much as possible.

His hips gently buck up as he made a stifled whine. You recognized his need and you moved your hand to cradle his balls, his eyes nearly rolled back.

He likes his balls massaged while he receives, it adds extra stimulation and his balls are quite sensitive. Just giving them a tender rub will make him squirm even more.

Watch him unravel when you take him all the way, his cock head hitting the back of your throat and sliding down slightly, his eyes widen and he grips the sheets and your hair a little tighter.

When Kurt is close, his cock throbs in your throat, it swells at the tip and it gets hotter. His tip gets more sensitive and he gets much more vocal. His tail tightens around you, and he bits his lip to try to stifle his noises.

You tell him not to hold them back, because you love to hear him. He just whines at the loss of your pretty mouth around him.

When you get back to sucking, he bucks up slightly, apologizing if you gag, but unable to stop himself. "Liebling, I...can't hold it in..." he warns, his hand gripping your hair.

Or sometimes, he can't stop himself from bucking into your mouth and he holds onto your head as his hips move up over and over, driving himself closer to orgasm.

When he cums, he fills your mouth. His cock emptied, ropes of hot cum shooting out as he holds your head still. He can't stop your tongue from caressing his cock, which encourages more cum to shoot out.

His noises are beautiful, and you get turned on from hearing them. "Ah...mein Gott..." he rasped, looking down as you suck off him. You give one more lick to get anything left and swallow him. He just blushed more at that.

He will embrace you after, kissing all over and nuzzling you. His tail wrapping around you like a third arm and he cuddles you close. He's very affectionate after, so loving and appreciative. He likes to make sure you know how much he adores you.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

[pomefioredove]

Can I request either Jade or Azul with, “let’s flip a coin, heads I’m yours, tails your mine.” They seem like the type to make that kind of deal.

haven't done Azul yet ouhhhh

summary: "let’s flip a coin, heads I’m yours, tails you're mine" type of post: short fic characters: azul additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, not proofread a part of this event

Azul doesn't like playing games of chance.

This is the first real thing he tells you about himself. You had brought a deck of cards to the lounge, and asked to play war; he immediately shot you down.

"What's the purpose of a game without strategy?"

He's shared many more things about himself since, but none had captured your interest quite as much as his distaste for luck.

You've let it sit at the back of your mind, waiting for a moment like this.

"Here's how you play," you explain, setting the dice in front of him.

"You only get to roll the dice five times per turn. Once you think you've got the highest number, you end your turn. Highest number at the end wins."

Azul narrows his eyes as you describe the rules of the game.

"So this is... purely...?"

"Luck," you finish his sentence. "It's fun, you'll like it."

He grumbles under his breath, but the smile on your face is enough to dissuade him from turning you down.

"Alright. One round, and then I get to pick the next game,"

Azul cups the dice in hand, a melodious symphony of clinks coming from within his palms as he shakes and rolls.

"Five, eleven, twenty four..." he counts each one. "Only thirty one. Five turns, you say? I'll roll again."

You can tell he's pretending to be disinterested, much to your delight.

"Eleven, twenty one, twenty eight, twenty nine... thirty four. That's not much better,"

"Having fun?"

He shoots you a glare, scooping up the dice between you for his third roll.

"Thirty five. It seems that low thirties are the average. I'll keep this, then,"

You can't help a grin. You can tell he's trying to work out the game in his head, searching for something to turn it in his favor... and coming up short.

The expression on his face is pure frustration. It's amazing.

"Forty," you're unable to hold back the glee in your voice.

Azul narrows his eyes. "Keeping?"

"Oh, yes. Your turn,"

He draws the dice on the table back to himself, eyes sharp. You love seeing this side of him; competitive, analytical, and oh-so frustrated.

"Seventeen. I'll reroll," he mutters. "Twenty five..."

He settles at thirty one, handing the dice back to you with a scowl. You roll, smiling widely.

"Oh, my... thirty eight!"

Azul's face pales. "Wh- how? On your first try? What are you playing at?"

You can tell his patience is wearing thin. You gasp in mock-offense, putting a hand over your heart.

"Are you implying that I cheated? We're using the same dice, Azul!"

"Sevens. You really find it so entertaining to watch me squirm?"

"I just like seeing that look on you," you smile, leaning against your elbow.

"You're all cute when you're competitive."

Azul narrows his eyes, trying to maintain himself despite the blush on his face. "I want to play something else. My choice,"

You watch him stand and walk across the room with a chuckle. He's always so easy to get a rise out of...

"Here," he says, returning to your side with nothing but a coin.

"Since you like games of chance so much, I have one we can both win."

You raise an eyebrow. Out of all the things you'd expected from him, this is not one. "Really? ...Where's the fun in that?"

He smiles slyly, almost looking pleased with himself. His mood has taken a complete 180, much to your curiosity.... and dread.

"Let's flip coins. Head, I'm yours. Tails... you're mine,"

...Azul takes as much delight in seeing your face go red as you did riling him up.

He's even prepared to dodge when you lunge at him in a vain attempt to take the coin out of his upper hand.

"Tsk, tsk..." he chuckles. "Who's competitive now?"

[the-kr8tor]

Rose Hips + ⭐️ : Jason Todd and fae!reader in an AU where he and reader have been friends since he was on the streets and wandering forests and reader gives up their immortality to save Jason after he’s been killed by Joker c:

Gasp! A jason todd fic from me?! 😂 Thank you for the request, tony!!! I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for vague clothing), reader has a nickname, robin! Jason Todd, can be read as platonic, fae! Reader, CW injury, CW blood, TW death, hurt/comfort.

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

Navigation

Flames lick at your feet, embers crackling as the fire eats away at your home. Animals flee, tails tucked away in fear of it getting singed, but you, with the unshed tears in your eyes, and bare feet running across the glade– you run towards the direction of the searing heat. Its source is a man-made building made of stone and glass, something you thought was invincible. But as you get closer and closer, its destruction becomes inevitable.

All things must come to an end, but you have to try to save him. Jason, the blue eyed menace you've come accustomed to. His smile lingers in your mind, laughter echoing in your ears. You can still remember the day you met him, bruised and battered, skin blooming into crimson and royal purple— a colour you've only seen in flowers. The meeting was bound by fate, like the vines crawling up your arms and around your torso; a fate etched into stone. And yet you once turned it away, turned him away because he wasn't supposed to be here in the dark woods all alone, moreso with a being such as you. You tried to scare him then, made yourself look like a powerful deity of the forest only to be met by a bout of boyish laughter.

“You look like a cheap knock-off of poison ivy!” He once said to you as he clutched his stomach from laughter.

You didn't know poison ivy was a laughing matter for humans when its touch could blossom into boils. It got you curious then, what else do humans think about the world around them? How do they think now that they ride metal horses and run on rubber feet? So you let him go back to your abode, sometimes tending to his wounds with herbs as he talks nonstop about his life outside.

Soon all the monthly visits became weekly, then turned into daily visits. You ask him questions about his kind, and he answers, mostly in a joking manner. You never offered him your food, knowing that he doesn't deserve the life to be shackled with you for hundreds of years. He deserves better. You've only kept him company, a friend for him to talk to, someone to laugh with, someone he would care for and in turn you'd care for him too. Until he disappeared for almost a year, you didn't try to find him then, you only hoped that he's alright, that he's still alive and keeping that smile on him. Then he comes back with less bruises on his skin, no blood splattered on his shirt. And his eyes shine with something anew. Hope. He tells you of a friend, someone who helped him just like you have. Jason seemed happy despite the cracked knuckles, and the ache in his muscles, he found his purpose. And you were happy for him, told him that he's always welcome in your forest if he ever got tired of his bat companion.

Jason was younger back then, toughened to survive the harsh realities of humankind. He still is. While you've survived a millennia from their brutality with a stiff lip, he fought back, ever a fighter, a defender. So here you are, running to fight for him, to defend him when no one came to save him.

You leave the thicket, skin warm, heat radiating off of your primordial skin. The vines snaking around your forearm tightens, a tell of your worries for the blue eyed boy.

The fire devours the stone building, its heat blasting at your face as you try to pass its flaming curtains. With a wave of your hand, you weave a wall of vines, its protruding thorns sharper than teeth. It shields your form from the flames that threaten to bite and nick at your skin. Entering the destruction, your eyes rapidly scan the place, hoping, wishing that you're not too late. You know he's here, but you barely feel his soul anymore. His warmth is tamped down by the embers kissing your flesh.

As you get further and further inside, the more danger you've put yourself in. You might be immortal, but you're not immune to the very thing that could single handedly destroy your home. The vines shield your form, but not enough as embers flicker too close to you. You're not afraid of dying, you've lived a thousand lifetimes, enough for someone to wish for an end. But as death knocks, not on your door but on Jason's limp body— you fear death.

“Jason!” Bolting towards him, you immediately kneel before him, hands patting away the flames eating away at him. Darkened smoke billows out from everywhere you see, and as you cup his cheek, he coughs weekly, eyes cracking open at the familiar sight of you. “Jason. I'm here, I'll get you out.” Before you could carry him, he grabs your wrist weakly.

“M–My mom.” He wheezes, soot covering his face. “Get h–her out first.”

You now notice another form in the building, and you realize why you haven't felt her presence until he told you.

“Jay, I'm sorry, she's gone.” You squeeze him once as tears flow down his cheeks, leaving a clean trail down his face. “I'll come get her out, but you come first.”

“B–But.” He coughs again, dry heaving on the concrete floor, eyes darting over to the limp body just a few feet away from him.

“I'll go back for her, I promise.” Despite his protest, you place your arm under his legs and back, carrying him as if he weighed nothing.

His face is marred by a beating, but under it, under all the caked blood and swollen eyes, he's still the same Jason you know. He's older now since you last saw him, but he's still a fighter.

He clings to you tiredly, fists holding onto a vine weaved across your chest. His breathing slows, eyes darting over to the simple chain of beads around your neck.

“You k–kept it.” It's getting harder for him to talk. You don't waste time sprinting away from the scene.

“Of course I did.” Wind and fire rushes at you, cheeks feeling like it's being boiled, and feet slowly burning away by the heated stone. “You made it.”

“You said—” he coughs, face tucked away on your bicep. “You said it was crudely made.”

“I lied, Jay.” Your eyes stings from the smoke, but you blink it away as you're close to the exit. “Stay awake for me.” Your voice doesn't tremble, but fear ebbs out of you in waves.

Jason manages to smile, patting the necklace weekly. “Liar.” He says, head lolling over your arm.

“Jason!” You wrap him closer, shielding him from a falling beam that's now blocking your path. “No!” Desperation ropes you in place, head craning down to look at his lifeless eyes.

“No.” You refuse for it to end this way.

With a burst of energy, you raise a fist, calling forth a tree to sprout from underneath the cracked concrete. Its trunk gives you enough leverage to make a new path above the flames, giving you a bridge. As you walk over its wooden body, you can hear it scream in agony.

You apologize as it gets snuffed out by the flames in time for you to push yourself and Jason out of the fiery abyss.

You don't waste time in returning to the thicket with Jason in tow, hoping that you have enough time to revive him. But as your knees give out from under you, plummeting down on the forest floor but away from the fanning flames. You realize that you can't keep your promise to him.

Cradling his head, you feel how cold he is under your touch. But there's still a spark in him, enough for you to do everything you can to yank him away from death's cold embrace.

Placing your head atop his own, you murmur words laced with an incantation— one you're forbidden to say. It could mean your destruction, but it could also give him life.

As you feel the air swirling around you, your power seeps out of you like sunrays. Light fights its way from underneath your ancient flesh, cracking you open, burning away the vines encompassing around you, and bathing Jason in its ethereal light.

It hurts more than flames, as if your form is being ripped away from your very being. With a muffled scream, your vision darkens as you fall forward and atop his chest.

Raindrops slowly drip from the above, raining down on both of your forms.

—

Jason wakes up to find you breathing above him, cheek pressed atop the burnt material of his suit. Your eyes are closed, fingers gripping at his arm like he's about to run away from you whilst you slept. His eyes are met with dappled sunlight, and his ears pick up a birdsong as the breeze kisses his cheek.

He blinks the heaviness behind his eyes away. There's no pain throbbing on his face and body, lungs breathing fine, even better than before. It's as if nothing ever happened to him. But when he feels your beating heart from above him, he knows something is amiss.

“Hey,” Jason sits up, hand cradling the back of your head as he tries to wake you up. “C’mon, wake up.”

You crack one eye open, nose scrunching up from the rude awakening. “Jay?”

He beams at you, chuckling at the drool running down your chin. “I've never seen you sleep.” His hands are warm and nice against your skin, so you indulge yourself by leaning against him. It seems that the simple act made him grin further. “Your heart's beating really fast, Grinch.”

You roll your eyes, wiping away at your chin. “You've never seen me sleep because fae people don't sleep.” Moving away and sitting up on your own, you narrow your eyes at his smiling face. “I told you not to call me that sour name.” Despite your words, you smile at him, happy that your incantation worked and he's alive. But there's a gnawing feeling at your chest, a worry that he's a figment of your grief stricken mind.

“Are you real?” You ask, voice small.

Jason takes your hand and places it atop his beating heart. “I'm real,” he notices that your arms are free of any vines binding you. He then takes the same hand and places it on your chest. “And you are too.”

Your eyes widen at the unfamiliar heavy feeling. “I'm—!”

Lunging at you, Jason embraces you on the forest floor as the early morning sun beams down on you. “Mortal.” You hug back, face hiding on the crook of his neck. He mirrors you, smiling against you. “And alive.”

“We both are.”

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

[nightlyrequiem]

Crawl to Me

The world ended long ago. Now belonging to the undead that roam it, feeding on the last surviving people. You've learned to avoid the rotters. You have a past with one and like when she was alive, she's not willing to let you escape so easily.

New Part Every Thursday

Masterlist AO3

A/N- I was actually working on an apocalyptic fic in June, but I genuinely couldn't figure out how to progress the story in an interesting way. I still want to write one though because I'm a slut for apocalypse stories. This ones kind of lengthy. Like 2800 words

Tags/Warnings: Undead Valeria, No Use of the Word 'Zombie', Apocalypse, Gore, Stalking, WLW, Implied But Also In Your Face Toxic Relationship

The world ended eight months ago. A disease thawed from the melting glaciers and ravaged through the living population faster than it could control. Hospitals were overrun and the government declared a state of emergency. You weren't to leave your homes for anything. Rations were to be dropped off by authorized personal. They followed all the proper protocols and procedures, and it wasn't enough.

"Do you think this is expired?" A woman asks. She's rooting through a pile of canned food while you and a man keep a watch out. The infected are more active at night. A quick acting evolutionary behavior to avoid the scorching heat of the Mexican sun, to preserve the decaying host for longer.

"No." The man replies, voice deep and buttery. "Canned food can last for years past it's expiry date."

Something moves outside, kickstarting your heart. Some infected still wander out during the day. Your hands are sweating, making it hard to hold the gun. Valeria tried to teach you how to hold a gun once. You were never comfortable around them though. You peer outside, ears too sensitive in the unnatural quiet. A thin stray dog runs past the window. Clumps of fur missing from mange. You relax. Rotters will attack and eat any animal they catch but so far, you haven't seen any animals actually get infected with the disease. You shudder at the idea of running from a pack of infected strays. Their frothing jaws hung open, breath sour with illness. Sinking their teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh.

"Hurry it up, Grace." The man growls. He was a military officer; despite that he has no patience. You don't care for him. He reminds you of Valeria.

Grace shoves cans into her duffel bags. Filling them so much that she struggles with the zipper.

"If you want this to be faster then maybe you should be doing this, Rojan." She growls. Hoisting the heavy bags up and adjusting them on her shoulders. Rojan doesn't reply. Just stares out the window stoically. On the other side of the small supermarket, another man looks through magazines instead of being useful. Holding them up in the sparse light to leer at the women on the pages.

You and your small group move on. Exiting the store. The sun is hot and unforgiving. The ground beneath your feet is dry and cracked. Only the toughest of weeds able to grow from the pavement.

"What are we going to do for shelter?" Grace asks. Walking alongside Rojan. You lag behind, at the tail end of the group just behind the man who was looking at magazines instead of finding food. He turns and glances at you. Sizing you up. Both you and Grace have made it very clear you're not interested. Though there's a lack of women around and he hasn't quite given up yet.

He slows his pace to walk beside you. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. It makes you sweat just looking at him.

"We might have to sleep outside tonight." He says. You wish he wouldn't talk to you.

"No we won't." You reply with disinterest. "Rojan would never make us camp outside." It's just simply too dangerous.

"Well," He starts. "If we do you and I could share a spot to keep warm."

You roll your eyes. It gets absurdly cold at night but even then, you'd rather kiss a rotter than cuddle up to him. "Pass, Arthur." 

Arthur doesn't seem perturbed by your prickly nature.

"It's not like you'd lose anything by being with me for a night." He argues. Up ahead, Grace and Rojan are deep in conversation, heads close together. You wish you could join them instead of being stuck with Arthur.

"I'm a lesbian." You grit out. Even if you weren't, you still wouldn't touch Arthur.

He pauses and you start relaxing, assuming he's going to back off. "Why does that matter?" He asks. "I'm not asking for a relationship; you don't have to be attracted to me to sleep with me."

"Arthur!" Grace barks, turning her head to scowl at him. He looks up at her. "Cut that shit out, she's not interested. I'm not interested, nobody here is interested."

Arthur considers her and moves away from you silently. You give Grace a thankful nod.

Night begins to fall. Your legs ache with each step as you walk, the bag on your back feels like it gained ten extra pounds. Finally, Rojan slows to a stop outside of a small house. The windows have been broken but boards fill in the empty space. The screen door swings in the slight wind, creaking as it does. Weeds and tall grass have dominated the small front yard and somewhere hidden within, flies buzz loudly. Congregating over something dead.

"We'll stay here for the night." Rojan says. He looks at each of you. Pointing at you and Arthur. "Help me make sure it's clear." 

You slowly creep inside. The interior is just as rundown as the outside. A dank, musty smell coats the damp-stained walls and fungus pops up from dark corners. You walk by the living room and startle. In the corner, facing the wall is a rotter. It's back turned to you. The skin is flayed and painful looking. Deep gashes litter it's skin. It's stationary. Unmoving apart from a slight sway. 

You don't know if you should risk making noise shooting it. You look to the front of you as Rojan disappears around the corner. You frown and look back at the rotter. A bullet would be loud and might wake and draw any dormant rotters in the area. You slowly holster your gun and unsheathe your hunting knife. Approaching the rotter like a predator. Remembering what Rojan taught you. Sweep out the legs - which won't be hard considering how emaciated they look - and quickly stab into the temple. You take another step, and the floor loudly creaks under your weight. You and the rotter both go still. The lax swaying coming to an abrupt halt.

You wait, heart beating in your ears. The seconds feel long but the rotter never turns, and you resume your creeping. You come right up behind it and recoil at the smell. Unwashed body mixed with overripe fruit, sickly and decaying. You shake your head and build up your courage. Finally, you kick out it's legs and ignore the very human grunt. Grabbing one side of it's head, you stab your knife into the soft spot in it's temple, cutting of the beginning of a shrill squeal. It drops, becoming dead weight in your arms. You lower it to the grown and let it drop.

The small home is cleared just in time for the sun to begin setting. The group sits in the living room. Silent and eating. Even Arthur is keeping his mouth shut. As the sky darkens, the sound of shuffling gets louder. The rotters have awoken. A few of them call out eerie pleas for help. That's what disturbs you the most; the mimicking. Back at the start you had mistakenly opened your door, assuming the woman crying for help on the other side was human. She wasn't. You had been tackled to the floor trying to fight her off. A lucky shove sent her flying into the table, snapping her neck and stunning her enough for you to bash her head in. You don't respond to calls for help anymore.

You have first watch. Your eyes droop and you fight hard to keep them open. Grace's soft snoring does nothing to help you. You're leaning against the wall. Your name gets called, startling you awake. Your heart throbs in your chest as you listen, ears ringing from the silence. Were you hallucinating? It doesn't come again. A few footsteps sound close to the boarded-up window. Maybe one of the rotters said something that sounded like your name. That's what you decide but it freaks you out enough to keep you awake.

Your group moves on promptly at sunrise. Most of the rotters having hidden themselves in shadows and buildings to hibernate for the day. It's another scorcher. Sweat wets your brow as you walk, legs aching from fatigue. Your tired stumbling reminds you of the rotters.

"Water." Arthur says. Rojan reaches into the side of his pack for the communal water bottle without stopping and holds it out behind him. Arhtur takes it and you watch him carefully from the corner of your eye to make sure he isn't taking too much. Water is a valuable commodity. Getting drinkable water is a hassle. If you can't find any bottled water stashed somewhere, you have to boil some from rivers. You lag behind a little. Overheating and exhausted from having to stay up all night.

You halt as you hear movement beside you. Your group progresses on, leaving you behind as you stare into the shadowy alley. Not a brick is out of place. You hurry your steps and catch up with your group. You're just tired and paranoid.

You sit with your back to your front door as Valeria pounds on it. Shaking the weak wood with every hit.

"Open the fucking door!" She yells. You put your head down and cover your ears, every single limb fizzling with nervous energy. You and Valeria have had a... tumultuous relationship. On and off, fighting, making up. You finally called it off for good and denied her when she tried to win you back. Valeria's never been able to leave you alone though.

She hits the door again.

"Please, mi vida, open the door." Her voice softens. It's forced. 

"Go away, Valeria!" You yell back, worried she'll break down the door. You don't know what she'll do if she makes it inside and that scares you.

"For fuck's sake!" She snarls, dropping the nice act. "I'm going to fucking kill you if you don't open this door!"

You shut your eyes and count. Trying to calm yourself down.

The faded red door and empty flowerpots are uncomfortably familiar. You feel an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Unfortunately for you, Rojan deems it suitable. He and Grace clear it and you and Arthur enter once they confirm it's empty. You cast a glance at the decayed woman on the floor, head mashed to a pulp. You're disturbed to find chunks missing from her. The other's congregate in the living room but you wander down the hall and take a left. Pushing open the closed door. The bedroom is full of dirt and dust. The curtains nothing but moth-eaten tatters now. You wander to the nightstand and lower yourself down to your knees, the carpet damp and spongy. You reach under and pull out a box, running your fingers over the gold trim. Clearing dust off the lid. You open it and pull things out. Birthday cards, baby teeth. Polaroids. You and Valeria smile up from the picture tauntingly. She has a firm grip on your waist, keeping you pressed against her.

Flowers get shoved in your face, startling you out of your skin. You stare at Valeria like a deer in headlights. Behind her lurks two dangerous looking men. Protection or intimidation? You can guess which.

"I'm sorry." Valeria murmurs, forcing you to take the flowers. "I know you're upset but I also know you're not done with me. Just stop with this little angry act and take me back."

"What? No." You frown. "Valeria, we are not good together."

Valeria ignores your words and grabs your arms gently. "I love you." She says, looking at you intensely. "I love you so much that it makes me sick. It makes me angry. You did this to me, and I wouldn't have it any other way. We are it for each other, why can't you understand that?"

You put the picture back down and hide it under a few others. Ones without Valeria in them. It's all history and at the end of the world, history means nothing. You join the others as they finish up their meal of canned sausage. You don't ask for any, no longer having an appetite. You're still exhausted though. Settling yourself on your couch. It's filthy but you still gleam a small sense of comfort from it. It doesn't take you long to drift off. Lulled by the quiet chattering of your companions.

You aren't sure what woke you first. The shattering of glass, or Grace's panicked curse. Nobody remains a heavy sleeper when there's a constant threat outside. The whole group is startled awake. It doesn't take long for the rushed steps of the rotters to be heard. You freeze. Watching as Grace shoots one but gets tackled by another. Filthy teeth sink into her throat. Both Arthur and Rojan aim and take down a few. One of the rotters slinks in-between them and heads right towards you. You're horrified to see Valeria's face glaring back at you. She barrels right into you, crushing you under her weight and pinning you down to the couch. You feel bile stinging your throat.

You slam into the floor as Valeria slams the door shut in your face. Your body is already on overdrive and in your adrenaline induced haze you decide Valeria did that on purpose. It doesn't help that she immediately crowds you. Her warm hands latching onto you, her smell overwhelming you.

"Get off!" You hiss, kicking at her.

"I'm sorry." She growls. Maneuvering you onto your back. You can't move, you can't leave. You're trapped in this stressful situation. A claustrophobic panic kicks in. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but you can't run out every time you argue - stop struggling!" Valeria says with anger.

"You're hurting me right now!" You try to wrench yourself away from her but only end up pulling a muscle.

"You cannot leave me." She replies, sounding hurt and desperate. Her tone scares you more than anything. "I'm sorry, just stop struggling and we can talk, please."

The sound of flesh tearing is seared into your memory. The screaming stopped after only a few seconds, but you think you'll remember it for the rest of your left. Valeria keeps you crushed under her firmly. The reek of decay permeates through the air. It's so thick you worry you'll get infected just breathing in. Through a gap in her limbs, you watch the rotters in a frenzy. Ripping your group apart like animals. Something cold caresses the side of your neck, startling you. It's Valeria running her fingers along your neck. She says your name. Voice distorted and growly. It sounds like it hurts to speak.

A salty tear rolls down your cheek as you stare blankly at the massacre. Grace's head bobs slightly as a rotter feeds on her intestines. Her eyes stare back at you lifelessly.

The wood trembles.

"Open the fucking door!"

You raise your head from your hands and look at the wall, you don't know what to do. The pounding stops. Valeria's voice is muffled but clearly aggressive as she speaks to someone.

"You're sick." She exclaims, disgusted... and afraid. "Fuck. Open the door." She repeats. Valeria doesn't sound angry anymore, she sounds urgent. "Open the door, someone sick is staring me down, open the door now." 

You've never heard her sound frightened before. This disease is frightening though. You haven't seen one of the sick in person before but just the symptoms were enough to scare you.

A bite or bodily fluid was all it took. Doctors said incubation was from anywhere between an hour to three days. It started with a fever, intense mood swings, violent behavior, thirst and hunger. Sores sprouted up on the body. Eventually they would pustulate and then rot. Then the virus made it's way through the brainstem and effectively killed the frontal lobe while triggering the amygdala. Turning the host into an animal. Valeria calls your name.

"Please open this door, I know you're mad at me, but you can't leave me out here with that thing." 

You're very tempted to open the door but you can't move. You're frozen to the spot.

"Get back!" Valeria snaps. Startling you. "Take another step and I'll shoot you."

The infected care not for the threat of a gun. Shots are fired, loud and earsplitting. Something hard thumps to the ground and Valeria screams.

You feel sick.

"I know you're mad at me, please open this door." She whispers into your hair. Every second you wait for her to bite. To tear into your vulnerable flesh, but she doesn't. "I didn't mean to hurt you, please open this door." Valeria brushes her face against your cheek. Something wet transferring onto yours. "I'm sorry, it makes me sick. I love you." Valeria tightens her grip on you. Shielding you from the horror in the living room. After being infected and dying she tracked you down. She got rid of the only people you had left. There is nowhere you could hide that she wouldn't find you. Dead or alive, she's yours.

[hunters-vigil]

The Archon's Baby - Chapter 5 - The Next Morning

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

request from ao3: Make one where they have a child but the female character doesn't tell Mavuika that she is expecting a child and distances herself from Mavuika please 🙏🙏

warnings/mentions of: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, there's some bra talk and bra scenes, an attempt at writing flirting...

Fic under the cut, don't repost my stuff on other platforms, i have ao3. Reader is not the traveller. Reader's adoptive sisters are Chasca and Chuychu.

The pyro archon is more than a trained warrior, a strategic mind, lightning fast reflexes, impeccable senses... and yet, she remained sleeping as you rummaged in your bag for another shirt. Finally finding one, you dropped your bag into the chair, moving to tug it over your head.

"Well, this is a sight I haven't seen in a while..." a squeak escaped your lips, turning to spot Mavuika staring at your exposed body from the bed the two of you had slept in last night. "You don't need to hide, my love." Mavuika began to pout, noticing how you were holding the shirt over your chest and stomach to shield it from view.

"I... I just got back from breakfast and I'm kind of bloated. It's not pretty." Your words were laced with the truth, you had snuck out to breakfast, having grown hungry and craving Xocoatl and Cups O' Grainfruit. The bloating wasn't from that however...

"This is new..." Mavuika ran her fingers over the your shoulder, eyeing the bra strap with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Good morning to you too..." you hummed, leaning into her touch, her lips beginning to trace down your neck, "don't get any ideas, especially since you ripped the last one."

"I remember, I liked that one, but you looked better without it." Mavuika admitted, trailing her fingers further down your body until you began to squirm.

"That tickles!" the giggles began to escape your lips, the pyro archon's face lighting up at the sound, reminding you of an excited puppy whose tail was quickly wagging side to side.

Unfortunately the fun with your lover was forced to come to an end, as a voice grew closer towards your room at the inn.

"Chasca, are you sure she stayed here last night?" Chuychu sighed, turning towards her older sister, who had been leading the way since the two arrived at the Stadium.

"Mualani told Kachina and Xilonen that Atea had her walk our younger sister back here for the night. I spoke to Chanca, she served her breakfast then she went back to her room, which should be... this one." Chasca replied, heading towards your inn room door.

Your eyes widened, looking at the door as Mavuika's arms tightened around you instinctively. You could pray, but praying to the archon whose arms were currently around you was slightly pointless. Still, you were praying your sisters for once in their lives knocked on the door instead of barging in.

If they barged in, all the pieces would be revealed prematurely. Your sisters would find out it was Mavuika who you were dating and the mother of your baby, and Mavuika would find out you were having her baby...

Chuychu and Chasca continued to talk to each other, but the words weren't reaching your ears as you heard a knock, turning your head to see how Mavuika was reacting. Maybe she would jump out the window and escape? Was she even ready for your sisters to know?

Time was running out...

"Maybe she's asleep. Or this isn't her room. Chasca, I did ask if you were sure-"

"I thought I was... maybe we should wait at a table until she shows up." Your sisters moved away from the door, heading towards the dining area, "do you think she's spoken to whoever she's dating yet?"

"She'll probably have tried to but struggled with words. You remember how long it took her to talk when mom and dad took her in?" Chasca admitted, frowning slightly at the memory.

"They're gone, you're okay..." Mavuika pressed her lips to your forehead, "I'm sorry, this stress can't be good for you, or the baby."

She could feel the way your body tensed, hearing your breath hitch as you shakily looked up at her, "you know?"

"I only figured it out this morning. Your sickness in the mornings, your fatigue, tenderness, plus this bra. Did you think I wouldn't notice that it's a size up from your old ones? But it wasn't those that made me realise. Your hand on your stomach, it reminded me of my mother when she was pregnant with my younger sister." Mavuika confessed, her hand hovering over your stomach, waiting for permission.

"Oh..." you barely made a sound, gently leading Mavuika's hand to rest on your stomach, letting the shirt you'd been clinging to for so long drop to the floor. "Are you mad I didn't tell you before?"

"You were afraid. My only regret is that I made you feel as if you couldn't tell me." Mavuika paused, hesitating for a moment, "you were going to tell me, yes?"

"Of course I was, it was just... hard to get the words out." You let out a sad sigh before deflecting, "at least after your 500 year plan is complete, a piece of you will still be here." You could feel your eyes water but you blinked back the tears as best you could.

Mavuika winced at the ache in her chest, realising that she had forgotten about that. Natlan had less than a year before total destruction... she needed to die to save Natlan, to save you and now the baby the two of you are having too.

"Chasca and Chuychu know I'm pregnant, but not... that it was you. They... ugh, they just know its a pyro user. According to Chasca, I look pyro infused when using elemental sight," shaking your head at the recollection of your sister's words, "I don't know if they're more mad about the secret relationship, or that I'm the youngest..."

Mavuika's fingers began to trace patterns on your stomach, listening to you with a soft smile on her face.

"Chuychu kept asking who 'defiled' me and Chasca muttered something about 'cutting balls off' when she thought I couldn't hear." You admitted, trying to hide your amusement as Mavuika grimaced at your sister's threats, her hand frozen as it touched your belly.

"She won't... archon or not, she won't." You reassured her as your lover wrapped her free arm around you, pulling you closer so she could lean in and nuzzle her face into your neck.

"How far along are you?" She tentatively asked, hearing your intake of breath as you did the calculations in your head.

"Nearly 8 weeks... I found out with my sisters when I was nearly five weeks. I went to Chuychu because of the vomitting, Chasca thought I was just having a check-up but then the conversation changed to periods, and I realised I was late..." you began to ramble, but Mavuika took in every word, not wanting to miss a thing.

"Atea figured it out. I don't know how, but she knows we're together. She saw us in the hot springs, late that night. She thought... ugh, archons, she thought the baby had been conceived in the hot springs!" you shuddered in embarrassment as Mavuika smirked, recalling that night in detail as her hands drifted down your body teasingly.

"Ugh, you! Archon of War or Archon of Horniness, I can't tell sometimes. My sisters are waiting for me outside!" you hissed in warning, although your tone suggested otherwise as you held back your giggles.

"I've missed this." Mavuika confessed once the two of you had calmed down, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. I'm sorry-"

"Shush... you don't need to apologise. My role as the archon doesn't make things easier when it comes to working up the courage to tell me something so important. I only hope... we'll see each other more? I want to spend as much time, and be involved as much as possible before..." Mavuika hushed you, letting out a sigh as she remembered the burden on her shoulders. She had accepted her death over 500 years ago, but you and the life growing inside of you, made her want to live.

"Why would I deny you of that? I love you, Mavuika. I'm never going to stop loving you." You declared, holding back tears as your lover cupped your face in her hands.

"Never once in the 500 years since I was born did I think I would be blessed to meet you, let alone be your lover..." Mavuika leaned in, pressing her lips to yours hungrily, "I love you too."

"I wish we could stay like this for longer, but I need to see my sisters, and you have your duty as the pyro archon..."

"And what of my duty as your lover?" Mavuika pouted, disappointed as you ducked down to grab the shirt you had dropped onto the floor to put on.

"You have been fulfilling your duty well... and will continue to do so, but we cannot let our other duties lack- pfff!" you tried to be serious, struggling to do so at the pout on your lover's face, "you're adorable!"

"Fine, fine... I will see you later, my love, and my child," Mavuika pressed her lips to your forehead, her hand drifting to over your belly before she headed out... through the window? You didn't even think they opened?

"Wait! Don't tell anyone... I'm not far enough along, its too early to have many people knowing, so please-" you tried not to beg, but your eyes began to water against your will. Mavuika nodded, ignoring the capybara that awoke the moment her feet touched the ground.

"Archons... time to face my sisters." You whispered as you continued to get ready, heading out of your room at the inn to spot Chasca and Chuychu staring at you with their arms folded.

"Can you two not look at me like that? You're making me nervous." you cleared your throat as you sat down with them.

"Who was in your room with you?"

[amalainse]

𖦹 AM I THE SAME GIRL? ⇆ atsumu miya

┆︎summary ┆︎you've taken up two new interests―geology and unearthing the truth behind atsumu's new cryptic behavior.

┆︎tags┆︎getting together, friends to lovers. reader is oblivious. atsumu is predictably, a loser in love.

┆︎wc┆︎3.7k

┆︎an┆︎it is the beginning of winter and for some reason i always think of summer. and also this 100% an excuse to research further about something that has always interested me. half of what i learned didn't even make it into the fic but just know i have about 3 hours worth of stuff lodged in my brain now.

okinawa is a long thirty-six hours from your home in hyogo. you've already vowed to visit once your curator job takes off―and you actually have enough money to stay there. but anyway. the reason you want to visit so badly is because of the hoshizuna no nama―or the star sand beach. where sand is typically made up of tiny rocks and particles, the sand is made of tiny star-shaped little particles.

you know this, and other odd things about rocks you've never heard of before, thanks to your monthly subscription to the petrology society journal. the part time job you've gotten at onigiri miya doesn't allow much for extra expenses, but the journal is one of the things you don't mind dipping into your budget for.

it's nothing something most people would expect from you (and certainly not something you thought you would enjoy so much) but you had caught the tail end of a documentary on the history of the earth while studying for yet another exam.

you're reading the latest issue now, or you're trying to. it's more like you're pretending to read it, as your eyes scan over the same paragraph seven times. in reality, you're way too interested in watching osamu and a few of his friends play a friendly (?) game of volleyball. and more specifically―watching atsumu play volleyball.

osamu had asked if you wanted to join, or maybe if you wanted to keep the score but you had declined. these were osamu's friends, and you felt more than a little out of your element just by being there. you attended the inarizaki high, same as osamu and his friends, but to say you were friends then was a generous statement.

at most, you and osamu partnered together often to work on projects or study. classroom friends. not the sort that hung out together outside of school hours. and when you started working part-time at onigiri miya, you assumed it would be the same. it isn't, and as a result, the two of you have struck up a tentative new friendship.

atsumu, osamu's twin, is an entirely different story. even in highschool, he was never someone you were able to understand. and nothing about him ever made any sense. even after all the time that has passed, that remains the same.

it's like he pays too much attention to you, but at the same time―none at all. you don't get it.

suit yourself atsumu had said, putting his hands on his hips as his eyes traced over you―watching keenly as you found a place to sit off to the side. you can just be my cheerleader instead.

your scowl had been instantaneous. feathers ruffled, you planted yourself down on your beach chair and forced yourself not to give atsumu the time of the day. a challenge, when he's possibly the hottest person you've ever seen. he carries himself differently than osamu, and you wonder if that's what makes you so drawn to him.

you aren't sure if you want to know the answer. what does that say about you, being attracted to boys with bad attitudes and piss colored hair?

"i don't hear any cheerin" atsumu drawls out, when he catches you staring for maybe the third time in a row. you scowl again, and cross one long leg over the other, body language clearly expressing your displeasure.

the star sand, in the end, isn't made up of anything mythical―not like you had been expecting. you know magic isn't real, but still your mind had conjured up the idea that the star sand was made of remnants from magical stars. sand, star shaped or not, are made up of decomposed organisms.

your eyes slide once more towards atsumu. for once, he isn't looking back at you. people, famous volleyball athletes or not, are made up of the same things.

--

today had been taxing in a way it hasn't been in a long time. you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, plastered with heat and sweat. class fared no better, and you forced yourself to trudge through the lessons―completely fumbling when a professor suddenly cold-called on you.

the one time you decide to give yourself a few extra hours of sleep instead of keeping up with the reading, you make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone. you're sure no one even remembers it, or gives it a second thought. but you wouldn't know how to stop being so mean to yourself, even if you wanted to.

your day hadn't gotten any better. you spilled a cup of iced coffee all over yourself, tripped and skinned your knee, had a disastrous shift at onigiri miya (to the point where osamu sent you home early)―and to top it all off, passed out the moment you arrived back at your apartment, instead of working on a paper that was due the next day.

never again will i take a summer class, you think to yourself, as you stand sleepily in line at the nearby convenience store.

"you seem tired" a voice says, next to you. and you turn blearily to face atsumu miya himself. "you're in grad school, right?"

it's totally and completely unfair that he gets to walk around looking that perfect. if there is a god, it's clear that he has favorites. and you are most certainly not one of them. atsumu, on the other hand, is.

"i'm regretting taking summer classes" you explain, tracing the floor pattern with the toe of your beat-up sneakers. you don't want to delve too deeply into your issues, and you're unsure if atsumu even cares to listen. "it's―challenging. at times"

"it might be a busy day, but try to make some time for yourself. any time spent settling your mind is time well spent. staring pensively into that cup of tea for a few moments can be equally beneficial" says atsumu, reading off of his phone, tone unusually wise. "calm your mind, and your heart, and make it an at-peace day"

it's night. your brow arches, thoroughly concerned.

"what?" is all you say, looking at him.

"it's pretty straightforward you know" atsumu pouts―pouts. this whole infatuation...thing, would be a lot easier if he weren't so pretty to stare at. "just, keep it in mind, okay?"

"...okay" you promise, because what else can you even say at this point.

a grin spreads across his face, surprisingly genuine. you don't even want to begin to unpack what that might mean, so you don't. you pay for your things, and part ways outside of the entrance of the store, going in opposite directions.

you get back to your apartment. and you make yourself a cup of tea, staring at it in the snoopy shaped mug.

it does help you feel a bit better.

--

your favorite shifts at onigiri miya are the morning ones. well, late morning and the beginning of the rush hour. you and osamu typically chat politely, where he asks about the different events happening in your life. neither of you seem to have many friends and you're all the more glad for the easy friendship you have with him.

this morning had been passed in comfortable silence, both of you in separate parts of the shop, working.

that is, until osamu sticks his head to the front of the shop and throughs a wrench in your entire life. "you know you could just talk to him"

"huh?" you say ineloquently, serving spoon held above the rice. it dawns on you pretty quickly, what osamu is saying and you don't have to look at him to know that he knows. still, you lie and reply with, "i have absolutely no clue what you're talking about"

"really? because 'tsumu's standing right there" your head snaps up. atsumu is not there. you turn to glare at osamu, who only laughs loudly at your expense. "god you're easy"

"i'm going to quit" you threaten, though both of you know that isn't the case. osamu only laughs louder. "i don't deserve this treatment"

the bell jingles overhead. "what treatment?" atsumu says, in the flesh this time―fresh from a jog. both you and his twin look surprised. speak of the devil, they say, and he shall appear. "osamu you better be treating your best employee with the utmost respect!"

"i don't even treat you with the utmost respect" osamu drawls, before heading into the back of the shop so he doesn't have to hear his twin's response.

atsumu, thoroughly annoyed, stalks to the front. he stares down at you through the separation glass and smiles. "good morning. doing better?"

"uhhh" you say, awkwardly, staring at him. or trying not to stare at him. he's wearing a tank top today and you can feel your brain shutting down. eventually, your brain reboots itself and you remember what it is he wanted to know. "yes―the tea helped. thanks for that"

"no problem" atsumu replies, and rattles off his usual weekend morning order. two spicy tuna and two yaki. he watches you make them with eerily focused eyes―like it's his first time ever seeing anyone make onigiri or something.

you make your way to the cash register, and atsumu follows. his eyes land on your latest issue of the petrology society journal. "you've been reading those a lot."

your eyes, naturally, also track to the magazine. you usually like to read to pass the time when there's no customers in sight. but being noticed, perceived, by atsumu of all people, makes you feel suddenly too-conscious. you try to remind yourself of the star sand, and how it's just like regular sand. atsumu is just another person. no need to get so worked up about it.

"every time i see you, your nose is usually in it" atsumu says―unaware of the effect it has on you. he points to the cover. "do you know what kind of rock that is?"

"basalt" you gurgle out, avoiding his stare.

atsumu's eyes light with understanding. "looks kinda like gravel to me" he lifts his gaze to you once more. "is that a rock? gravel?"

you pretend to think on it―like you haven't covered that topic on one of your earlier issues weeks ago.

"gravel's made up of a lot of other crushed rock" you explain, eyeing him. he's looks genuinely interested. "usually limestone, sandstone and basalt"

atsumu smirks, victorious, and snaps his fingers. "i knew it"

he did not 'know it'. you hand him onigiri with a small smile and a shake of your head anyway.

--

osamu, atsumu, their friends and a handful of new faces you don't quite recognize are playing volleyball in an indoor gym. once again, osamu has extended an invitation to you―but you learn that atsumu has asked that you be there as well.

this time, you bring along an ice cooler, stashed with water bottles. you don't really know what volleyball players eat to conserve energy and after classes sucking the joy from your body, you didn't feel too up to making anything. but they seem overjoyed at the snacks you've brought anyway.

what excites a bunch of grown adult men about mere trail mix and greek yogurt, you'll never understand. but if it means everyone likes it, then you're happy. you're chatting with a few siblings and close friends of the players and you're having so much fun you haven't bothered to pick up your magazine once. but its tucked into your crossbody bag, pressing up against your side as a gentle reminder of its presence.

watching them play volleyball is fun all on its own, too. atsumu and his brother play on the same team, playfully bickering with one another. and then atsumu's eyes search through the small gathering of people watching until they land on yours. he slaps the back of osamu's shoulder and jogs off the court before he can retaliate.

"give me your hands" atsumu says, instead of greeting you like a normal person.

you, predictably, do no such thing. instead, you shoot him a cautious look, cradling them to your chest. "i'm not doing that"

atsumu rolls his eyes. "just do it"

he holds his hands out, expectant. side-eying him, you comply. he takes hold of them―touch surprisingly gentle. his hands are warm, but aren't sweaty like you'd expect. he turns your palms over, and his eye's scan over them, studying them.

there's not much else for you to do, but join him. you look at your palms, trying to see what he see's. if he's seeing anything at all.

"you know, by looking at your hands, i'd say you would make a pretty good spiker" he says, and then, cryptically―"a twist in your plans will lead to unexpected joy. embrace the change"

"what are you, miya-san, you aren't making much sense at all" you say, trying not to give away how much you like it when he gently starts to trace over your palm lines with his thumb.

atsumu holds up one of your hands, comparing it to his own. "your palms and your fingers are proportional―see? signs of a good hitter they say"

that sounds like you made it up, you want to say, but don't.

"and the last part―it was your horoscope this morning" he says, continuing to make less and less sense. why does he know your horoscope in the first place? does he check it periodically, or is this a spur of the moment thing? the two of you are still holding hands. what does any of this mean?

i didn't know atsumu was into this kind of stuff, you think to yourself, as you stare at his hands in return. you suppose you aren't the only one with new, emerging interests.

"and what do your hands say?" you reply instead, hoping that he doesn't pull away.

atsumu snorts, and this time, places his in yours. "well i guess you can check. not that you know what you're looking for"

"well explain it to me then" you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning his palms over in your hands, like he had done with yours. you hear the hitch of breath that follows, before you see it.

"well my fingers are slightly longer and that means they're unproportioned to my palms" he explains, matter of factly. you stare more pointedly at his hands, so you don't have to look up into his face. "so you could say i would make a good middle blocker"

"but you're not" you say, frowning.

"i'm not" atsumu confirms, smirking at you―like it's a fond secret the two of you share. someone laughs in the background, surely not at the two of you, but he pulls away anyway, running a hand through his hair.

"is it really that hard for you to want to cheer for me?" he asks suddenly, staring at you.

confusion falls upon your face. every time it seems that you finally have a handle on the conversation, atsumu has to flip them so that you remain ever puzzled. "huh?"

"i always ask you to. cheer for me, i mean." he explains, uncharacteristically looking away. "but you never do. you cheer sometimes for osamu, or suna. oran especially."

you wish for the contact of his hands again. "i didn't think you were serious. i'm sorry"

it dawns on you then, that he has. nearly every time they play, in fact. he asks without fail. but you assumed it was a joke, or something.

"try it next time?" he asks, 100% serious, ignoring the way his team calls out for him. you have a feeling this isn't about the cheering anymore. but it's like you're missing several pieces of a particularly large and complex puzzle. in other words. you have no idea what it is that atsumu means behind his words.

"okay" you say, because what else is there to say?

atsumu beams, and jogs back onto the court.

--

osamu says he's going to head out to go pick up some supplies. he returns forty-minutes later with no supplies and with atsumu in tow, flanked on the other side by suna.

"hi atsumu, hi suna" you greet, waving, closing your magazine. "are you guys getting anything?"

suna and osamu look to be in much higher spirits than atsumu, who looks seconds away from puking. he doesn't. suna leans close to whisper in his ear, and atsumu glares at him fiercely―trying to turn around to leave the store. osamu doesn't let him, looking all too cheerful to push him towards you.

you decide you really don't want to know what shenanigans the three of them are up to.

"your usual, miya-san?" you ask again, putting on a pair of serving gloves.

atsumu spares another look at his brother, before shuffling forwards half-a-step. he rubs nervously at the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze. "there's a market. for crystals and stuff, about an hour from here in osaka. it's here for two weeks and i wanted to know if you wanted to go with me"

then, looking up at the ceiling of all things, continues. "it'll have other stuff too. like horoscopes and fortune telling."

you don't really need the extra information. you figured that sort of thing would be there. but horoscopes are kind of atsumu's thing. you're pleased he wants to share it with you―even if you find it a little cool as well.

"sure" you smile "sounds fun"

atsumu looks as though he could faint. or puke. or maybe do some combination of the two. but his color improves, and he gives you a small smile in return, shockingly bashful.

he peers down at you, shedding all of his strange behavior. "okay. great. tomorrow? i'll pick you up"

"tomorrow works for me, miya-san" you reply, good-naturedly.

atsumu turns and leaves onigiri miya without another word.

"you should dress nice" suna says, oddly, once he's completely gone. osamu's too busy typing madly on his phone to interject, so you look at him strangely. now he is starting not to make sense.

--

you do dress nicely. so much so, that atsumu compliments you on it at least four different times before you can even make it to the marketplace. i like your hair, it's cute. pretty, like your skirt. things like that. you don't know what to make of it.

"are you excited?" you ask, once the security guard hands the two of you wristbands.

atsumu clasps his on deftly, but signals for you to hold out your wrist once he notices you struggling. you try not to jerk in place every time his fingers graze your skin―but you aren't sure how successful you are at keeping a straight face.

"shouldn't i be asking you that?" he asks, raising his brows in confusion. he doesn't wait for you to answer, tugging you along by the hand in the direction of one of the booths.

"oh i recongize this one" you tell him, pointing down at a jagged stone. "its called chalcedony. i read about it a few days ago. it's a type of cryptocrystalline"

"a what?" atsumu asks, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stares down at the stone with a puzzled expression. it's cute on him, the casual bewilderment. he looks at it like he's trying to place where he's seen it before.

"a cryptocrystalline" you repeat, smiling at him. much easier to do when he isn't looking at you. "it means you can only tell that it has the structure of crystalline when its under a magnifying glass"

atsumu hums, pleased. "cool", he says, and browses the rest of the booth with you. once you're done with that one, poiting out all of the stones and rocks you've read about―atsumu pulls you along to the next one, eager to repeat the process. he's seems interested in what you have to say, asking questions to pick your brain for more information when he senses you might be holding out on him.

"i'm glad i heard about this" he brings up, as you walk away from a food stall―matching bowls of yakisoba in hand. "i read yesterday that opportunity only seizes those who are ready to take it and that i need to take the fearful leap"

you stop a stray noodle from landing on your crisp yellow cardigan, looking over at him. "what?"

atsumu's eyes are on yours. "my horoscope" he says, like it means something important.

"oh!" you exclaim, once realization hits you "i'm surprised you've gotten so into horoscopes and fortune telling"

a odd look crosses his face. "i'm not―you are"

"no i'm not" you tell him. "why would you think that?"

atsumu's face heats. "well, you're always reading about the rocks. the crystals and gemstones"

"i like petrology. not crystals and gems" you explain, unable to hide your smile. "it's about rocks in general. like their origins or what they're composed of"

you remember all of atsumu's cryptic words, odd, strange ways of speaking. the sage advice in the store that one time. they were horoscopes. before you can stop it, you burst out laughing. you try to muffle it into your arm, but the sound escapes anyway.

"that's what you were meaning with all those weird things you kept saying?" you ask, once you've managed to stop laughing. "i thought you were trying to―i don't know, warn me of my ominous and impending doom!"

"i wasn't" atsumu pouts, tossing his unfinished yakisoba into the trash. "i was trying to find something to start a conversation with you. i didn't know how else to tell you i liked you"

your amusement dries up and your throat closes up. your eyes look around, at everywhere else but him.

"...are you going to say anything?" atsumu asks, looking like the boy you remember from highschool.

"i―uh. i like you too" you stammer out, staring down at your shoes. it's shockingly easy to do. logically, you knew there was always a small, small chance that he would reciprocate your feelings, always in the most pleasant of dreams.

in them, atsumu would blush (much like he is now) and ask "are you sure?" much like his is now.

and in your dreams, you would throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. or confess your undying love and attraction to the most strangest boy you've ever known. but like the star sand, and so many other rocks you've learned about, reality does not end up like your wistful imagination.

"i'm sure" you nod, and gingerly reach for his hand. "do you want to keep looking around?"

atsumu beams. squeezes your hand in his own. it feels better than any of your dreams could have ever conjured up. "'course i do"

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

[tartagliove]

I want to know more about the fox Childe and bunny Reader fic please 🥺 The Zhongli/Reader one as well

hiii Em!! I'm SO glad you asked hehe I'm very excited to talk a bit about this fic!

both fics take place in the same shapeshifter au where anyone with a vision also can shapeshift into an animal!

fox! Childe x bunny! Reader

Reader works for Yelan and helps to gather information (being a bunny can be pretty useful for that) when you are caught spying on the Fatui by Childe!

he can't let you share what you've heard, so he captures you (after an intense chase scene hehe)

he ends up bringing you back to where he's staying at the Northland Bank and decides to keep you captive until after the Fatui plans happen. all the Fatui are o.o at Childe walking in with a rabbit under his arm but they're not going to say a thing about the 11th Harbinger suddenly wanting to keep a pet because they'd like to keep their heads, thank you

anyway you start to find that Childe is growing on you the longer you spend in his presence and learn about him. (featuring a visit from Teucer!)

eventually you escape for good and return to your regular job, working at Yelan's teahouse, when suddenly Childe starts stopping by for tea and nearly gives you a heart attack the first time he shows up

I don't want to spoil too much about the reveal but!! some random hints about what I want to include throughout the fic: Reader gets a ribbon collar from Childe, a second intense chase scene, two visits to Bubu Pharmacy and an appearance from Qiqi, Childe in a half-transformed state with fox ears and claws and a tail, and some biting (not necessarily in that order)

dragon! Zhongli x cat! Reader

I don't have very concrete ideas for this yet, but:

thinking of a foreign Reader who arrives in Liyue who doesn't know much about all that went down with the Geo archon

Reader decides to explore the stone forest (perhaps you're an adventurer and your commissions take you there?) when you stumble across a dragon napping on one of the mountain peaks and ngl he looks pretty comfortable and it's sunny out, so you take a break and join him on a nearby rock

once you're back in Liyue you start running into Zhongli and then suddenly on your commissions to remote places, more often then not you'll find a dragon already there napping

and that's about it!

I am sooooo excited for the fox! Childe x bunny! Reader dynamic augh it has already been fun to write thus far and I can't wait to write more of it. once I make more progress I might share some snippets hehe. and if anyone has any questions or would like me to expand on things, feel free to let me know! c:

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞. | TEASER

There's magic in everything.

Tags/Warnings: Royal Warlock!Jungkook, Maid!Cat Hybrid!Reader, Magic!AU, realistic Fantasy, sci-fi, Strangers to lovers, Fluff, Romance, Angst, mentions of war, Injury, Violence and blood, Smut

Length: ???

There is no taglist for this fic. This is a Patreon-Exclusive.

A/N: due to fantasy stories never doing very well here on tumblr, Exhale will be posted on Patreon only. I've also lost my job, so currently, Patreon is one of the only ways to make money right now. Please understand that I'm gonna advertise it more often due to that. Thank you for your understanding.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"You'll feel at home soon, Sir Jungkook." You say as you place the plate of his food in front of him, his dark eyes looking up at you.

They don't scare you. Neither does the fact that he draws his powers from.. well, not the light. He's shown by now that he still has a kind heart, even if it's a bit hidden and cluttered with other things he deems more important. "I do not need to feel welcome here." He denies, starts to eat quietly, averting his gaze from you.

"Sure, you do not." You respond, turning around to wash the other's dishes in the sink. Jungkook's eyes raise at that, focusing on the way your tail sways from side to side softly.

Your dress looks a lot more.. tailored to you, than he's used to see on maids. In fact, everyone appears to be dressed in clean, and well made clothes that still fit their status and job- but don't appear to be simply given from one to the next. Kim Seokjin knows every staff's name in fact, and does not seem to really draw a line in who he speaks to and who he does not.

Odd.

"But doesn't it feel better?" You ask, singing to yourself as you wash the plates.

Jungkook doesn't respond, simply thinks. He doesn't have to feel at home here. Once King Seokjin doesn't have any use for him any longer, he will be sent out once more. The less connections he makes here, the less he will be driven away from his path. He doesn't need friends, or a home.

He's learned that many times in his life. It'll only hurt.

"How long have you been working here?" Jungkook asks as he rips off a piece of bread to eat. You dry your hands, and sit at the table with him, stretching out your legs beneath if for a moment.

"Hm.. I was living here since Jin-.. King Seokjin was still a prince, Sir." You answer. "I was born in the nearby forest village. My mother became a maid when I was old enough to attend school." You remember.

"Explains your lack of respect for him in your tone." Jungkook says, not looking at you. You stiffen, ears pinning backwards.

"Ah- but I do have respect!" You almost whine. "It's just.. his crowning was years ago, I know. But.. on occasion, I forget the boundaries set by society." You sigh, leaning your chin on your hand. "Any other kingdom would've already had me beheaded." You giggle to yourself.

"Or at least exiled." He mumbles, biting another piece of bread.

It's good that you seem to be aware of the luxury you're experiencing inside this castle. As a mere hybrid maid, you're not much more in status than a dog- and yet, for some odd reasoning, the King himself treats you as much more, just like the other staff. The way he'd spoken to Jungkook, with such familiarity almost, had shown just how soft the King really is. He truly is in need of protection. God knows he probably has not fought a single time in his life.

Just as his food is finished, Jungkook notices your other hand that's not supporting your head. There's something on your palm he's not sure of, but the skin is clearly irritated. He motions for you to turn it over, and you do- scratches having reopened from washing the dishes earlier.

Either you're very dumb, or just very devoted to your purpose in this castle.

He's slow with his movements to give you a way to deny him- but you do not, instead even leaning forward a bit in curiosity to see what he's going to do, as he covers your hand in his own, silver rings bulky on his fingers. There's no glow, or anything really- not much is happening at all, apart from the tingling feeling underneath your skin, stinging from the cuts slowly ebbing away like it's dipped in cold water.

And when he removes his hands, your palm is covered in what looks like black soot almost.. but once you brush that off, the skin is healed- no scars remaining.

"Oh! There you guys are." Yoongi offers, walking closer into the kitchen, a hand on your shoulder as he stands behind you. "The king requests you, Jungkook. " He tells the warlock, who still feels oddly irritated by the man's lack of proper wording regarding him. "And you should clean up. It's late." He says much softer to you, and you nod.

"Look! sir Jungkook healed me!" You hold out your hand, and Yoongi clearly grows irritated, frustration clear on his face.

This is what Jungkook is used to. The anger, distaste, disgust even regarding his practices- this is what's comforting to him. He can work with that, knows that people like this man will not get unnecessarily attached to him and cause problems. He likes that-

"Yah, where'd you even get hurt again?!" Yoongi scolds you instead, however. "Be glad Jin didn't see, or he'd make you report to him daily again.. show me. Is it really healed.?" He mumbles, inspecting your hand, before he shakes his head at you, ears pinned back. "Thank you. She sometimes has the coordination of a dragon hatchling." He says towards Jungkook, and he's caught entirely off guard, eyes wide open and face clearly showing his surprise.

And you just laugh at that, happily so, before you tell him goodnight with a playful bow, running off after teasingly thanking Yoongi for washing Jungkook's dishes.

Which, yet again irritatingly enough, Yoongi indeed does do for you.

This castle is weird.

But fitting for its king, he thinks.

[swifty-fox]

“things you said when you were scared” 😈

prompts that turned into a 4k fic.

this will be available on ao3 once beta read and while it takes place in Little Beasts universe it is NOT canon to the actual timeline. This is just a fun what-if scenario

TW's: Attempted suicide, drug overdose, vomit (lots of it)

It starts out as a gut feeling. Creeping dread squeezing his intestines, licking up his lungs like thick black tar, winding around his spine, tapping the bone with crooked claws. There's much to feel off about, really. Nothing has felt or been quite right since Huglin had opened the door to find his star disciple on his knees to taking communion from the town burnout.

Dazed hours sat listening to Gales low rumble, Huglin's raised shrill reprimanding shock, the blank look on the priests face as he stepped out of the office, shaking his head at John's questions.

He doesn't remember how he convinced Gale to come back with him, maybe because it took shockingly little effort, the other man walking as if his strings had been snipped right near the base. But they're here, in John's room. Or at least he is. Gale had excused himself to the bathroom. To shower and, John suspects, to have a private breakdown in his own company.

Twenty minutes is little requirement for concern.

He'd leant Gale the same Star Wars shirt he'd worn last time, a pair of sweatpants that had a fighting chance of staying on Gale's slim hips. He was lying on his bed and smoking, staring at the cracks in the ceiling and wondering if this would be the mistake that finally stopped poor Frannie's heart, if this would be enough to erase his previous reputation.

Yeah, there goes John Egan, he threw away his whole career over some oxy would likely now become here comes John Egan, the kid who fucked our priest.

It would be new, if not necessarily better. For once, he won't be the one coming out of it the worst. At the very least, this sort of behavior was expected of him if not necessarily accepted. Gale had fallen further, lost more, faced a heavier reckoning.

Gale had lost his job, his home, his self-respect most certainly. 

John smokes, pokes around the corners of himself looking for the itching need to waft up just as it did any time things got hard these days. The need for a fix, for a little kick to his system to get out of his body. A heavy woolen blanket over the jagged edges off his feelings. Something to cushion him as he lay atop the fucking wreckage of his life. Yet again. And it’s there, faint and sly and waiting but mostly he’s tired, mostly he’s worried.

Mostly his gut is clenching with some horrible anticipation like the seconds before a thunderclap.

As a rule, John listens to his gut. He’s got pretty good instincts, they’ve never let him down when he’s chosen to listen. It’s the choosing that’s the hard part. 

But rarely, has his gut been wrong.

John stands, gets his feet under him and pushes up. Pauses for a moment to listen for anything from upstairs but it’s late and Frannie has barely said two words to him. In silence he exits into the hallway, taps his knuckles lightly on the closed bathroom door. The wood is bloated and slightly sticky from steam, he can hear the soft rush of the shower on the other side.

“Gale?” he calls. 

The priest – formerly now – wasn’t beyond ignoring John, he held no illusions. He was good at even, he held out for long enough that John had to work for it, had to needle and run his mouth and bite back the excited wag of his proverbial tail when Gale slid furious blue eyes over to him. But his stomach was twisting and the wood is slick and oily with something like warning. 

“Gale,” he says more firmly, reaches down to twist the unmoving knob. It’s slick too, from the steam escaping under the door, from his own hand gone clammy. 

John’s been here before. Once in this house, years ago. Door knob eye level and much bigger between his fingers, wiggling it and calling for his mama to wake up in the tub. He’s telling himself this isn’t then, this is what they might call an emotional flashback, a simple mistake of association in times of stress. Gale didn’t even smoke anymore even though the good lord had no commandments against tobacco. He’s jiggling the knob, calling Gale’s name a third time.

“‘M fuckin’ serious this time Buck you’re worrying me.” 

He almost calls Gale Father, bites back the title at the last second.

“Gale,” he barks. 

There’s nothing. The mocking fall of water against cheap porcelain. Wood, wet and sticky against his forehead as he presses closer to try to hear anything. 

The door frame splits like butter under his shoulder, hot humid air gags him for a second and he flaps a hand out to turn on the overhead fan despite the little difference it would make.

Sink unoccupied, shower empty. Bathroom mirror open and an orange bottle slipping under John’s feet, nearly upending him. A loose-limbed limp body tucked between tub and toilet, head thrown back in a vulnerable white line and beaded with moisture. Perspiration and the spray of the shower both, it darkens Gale’s hair, the fabric of John’s shirt. Keeps the blood flowing from the teeth marks on Gale’s fingers, chunks of vomit caught between their limp splay. Whatever effort had been made to expunge the drugs from Gale’s body had clearly been unsuccessful as more yellow pills stab John’s bare feet.

He’s making a high thin noise, air escaping his pinhole tight throat like the slow deflation of a balloon. Falling to his knees hard enough they crack audibly against the tile. There’s vomit in the toilet, half digested food and the silty remnants of more pills, drifting with the vibrations of John’s large body hitting the floor. 

“Are you serious?” He asks Gale’s unresponsive form, repeating it over in a thin reedy tone, like a petulant child more than a man witnessing something horrific.

“Are you serious, Gale, are you serious, are you serious, are you serious–”

Gale’s skin is just as damp as the wood door, clammy and sticky and John’s telling himself it’s the shower spray. His lips are blue, the delicate split skin around his cuticles, there’s a strange hitch to his chest every few breaths and John’s tapping his face then shaking it, thumb catching the sharp of his chin to shake. 

Drags his knuckles in vicious circles against Gale’s sternum hard enough to bruise them both, breathing as labored as Gale’s own. There’s a ringing in his ears, high pitched and tinny. 

“Buck,” he barks.

He has no narcan, why the fuck would he have narcan on him anymore, he’s scrambling through his pockets for his phone but the slim shape of it is nowhere to be found. With his free hand he’s still patting Gale’s face, peeling one eyelid back to only find milky white. For a second there’s a hint of iris, a bloom of red blood where vessels had burst either from the opioids ripping through his body or the force of his vomiting. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck–”

John knows this drill. He’s done this more times than he’s caring to remember, pulling Gale out onto the bare floor, head lolling and limbs wet and slippery like broken branches. Gets the other man rolled on his side, shaking his shoulder one last time as if leaving the imprint of his knuckles in the center of his chest somehow couldn’t have been enough.

“Just stay right there sweetheart.”

The endearment slips right out, slickened by fear. 

He used to run entire baseball fields. Now dizzy spots dance in front of his eyes from the mere effort to make the handful of steps between the bathroom and his room, snatching his phone from the nightstand. Fingertips catching on the cracked glass he trips his way back to the hallway, is at Gale’s side before the first ring.

“Nine-one-one what’s your emergency?” 

“My friend’s overdosed,” He gasps, thinks he really should be more calm than this. He should be an old hand at this. He should be calm so he can fucking save Gale’s life but he’s drowning under the crushing panic. Under the sheer fucking guilt.

At what point had Gale looked at John today and decided to take a lesson from the crazy he’d been sticking his dick in.

“Alright sir, are you sure it’s an overdose?” 

“Yeah pretty fuckin’ sure.” 

There’s traces of vomit crusted at the corner of Gale’s mouth, John swipes it away with a trembling thumb.

“Have you tried-”

“I called his name and I shook him and I rubbed his fucking chest I know the goddamn drill lady, I need you to send an ambulance.” 

“I’m going to need you to stay calm, sir.”

Fuck you. “Okay.” 

“Do you know what he’s taken?” 

Fingers scramble for the bottle, sending more pills scattering across the floor. Gale’s a deadweight against him, temple resting on John’s thigh in a sickening boneless weight. His breathing is still that strange stop-and-start pattern that spoke of a body desperately trying to keep functioning. 

John’s still breathing whining and desperate in the back of his throat. 

“Dilaudid,” he says, the script oddly blurry for the first few seconds he tries to read, “The-the eight mil ones, I don’t fuckin’ know how many though. He threw up some of them. Jesus fuck, Gale.”

He’s shouting by the last bit and the dispatcher reminds him again to be calm. He isn’t sure what he says in response but when she asks his address he rattles it off quick and precise.

“Is there anything can do?” he asks, voice rattling through his ribcage with the desperate need to fix this. Stupid naive hope that he knows so far better than because he’s got scars in the shape of Curt’s teeth on his own fingers from saving his fucking life. 

“Can you tell me your name, sir?”

“Bucky.”

“Okay, Bucky, you’re doing just fine. Help is on their way.” 

“I’ve got his head tilted back, his breathing ain’t right.”

“Not your first rodeo, Bucky?”

John swipes at his eyes with his free hand, the skin coming away soaked, “No Ma’am.” 

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, they’re almost there.” 

Steams still billowing around them from the shower, dampening his clothes. He sets the phone to speaker, places it on the tile beside him and makes one more attempt with his fingers against Gale’s stuttering chest. Bends down over him to press his lips then his forehead to his temple. Gale’s sweat prickles his lips, clammy and sour. 

“Come on, Father,” he pleads, “Come on don’t do this to me, Gale. Don’t do this sweetheart.”

Gale’s body moves of its own volition, and for a minute John thinks he’s made some miraculous return to wakefulness but a second noise escapes his throat, thick and gargling and wet. The sour smell of bile rises, slipping liquid past his lips and darkening John’s jeans, puddling across the tile floor. John makes his own noise from deep in his throat, panicked and severe. 

“Can you tell me what’s happening, Bucky?”

“He’s vomiting.”

“Okay, that’s alright,” the dispatcher soothes and John bites his tongue hard enough the taste of copper blooms, I fucking know. “Is his airway clear?” 

Cursing to himself, John slips his fingers past the slick vomit, scissoring between Gale’s molars in a sickening mimicry of a hundred times before, hooking his mouth open and this time when he bends over to look down into the cavern of his mouth it’s not to spit or kiss or tease.

“Yeah, yeah he’s good.” 

“Help should be there, can you hear the sirens Bucky?”

John can, can see red and blue lights tracking across the open door to the hallway. His hands shake as he picks up the phone, taking it off speaker. It reeks of bile just like the rest of the room, wet against his fingertips but his mind is going soft and fuzzy, calm acceptance slipping over like a wool cover.

“I hear them,” he says, “The cops will probably already know, but can you please tell them I’m a felon on parole for drug charges. I don’t have any weapons on me and will cooperate fully.”  

He hears the fuzz of the phone connection, the sirens loud and piercing outside, the quiet tapping of a keyboard.

“I’ve let them know.”

John exhales shakily.

“I’m going to hang up now, Bucky.” 

“Thank you Ma’am,” he says, the words caught in his throat. 

There’s a knock at the door and he sets the black screen of the phone facedown somewhere dry and rolls Gale back into recovery. The ringing is back in his ears when he stands but he sprints with surprising calm to the door. He directs the EMT’s down the hall, fights the urge to follow them because there’s already little room in the bathroom. When he sits at the kitchen table, clothes damp and stained with the contents of Gale’s stomach, it’s at an angle where he can see the responders crowding into the bathroom, running back for a stretcher. 

“You got the naloxone on you?” 

“Holy fuck that’s Father Cleven.” 

John presses his hands to his face. 

-*~*-

Johns wrists ache. He’s exhausted and sore and Gales vomit has dried to an uncomfortable crust on his clothes. It was late enough he wouldn’t hear news of bail until morning when the judges’s office opened. Chick had told him as much, shuffling up to the cell window dressed in a pair of loose jeans and a faded football sweatshirt looking exactly like a man who’d been pulled out of bed at two am. 

“Have you heard anything?” John asks, leaning tiredly against the glass.

“What the hell are we doing here, John? You been fucking your priest?”

“He’s not mine,” John says, closing his eyes, “It wasn’t your business.” 

Chicks finger jabs against the glass, voice low and rumbling, “It sure fucking is if your giving him fucking opiates. Did Brady know this?”

John blinks at him, going cold, “I didn’t give him shit Neil. He took Frannie’s stuff I wouldn’t– I’m clean.” 

“Does Brady. Know.”

“Yeah – fuck – he fuckin’ knew. He knew I was messing around with him because that’s all that happened. Neil, I have my two-year chip. I was almost done with this whole thing in six more months why would I fuck that up?” 

Chick just stares at him, and John stares back, feeling every thread holding him up slowly be snipped one by one. It was one thing to have the police assume the worst, and it wasn’t quite like looked anything but really fucking bad. But Chick had been the one to see every step of the fought for progress John has made. He knew, knew the work John had put in. 

“This is why it’s a fucking bad idea to have a sober coach be someone who you’re friends with, I never should have signed off on that, I should have known he wouldn’t be able to be objective–”

“‘M fuckin’ sober!” John shouts, slamming his knuckles against the wall and then closes his eyes with a slow inhale.

“I’m sober,” his voice cracks, “He was staying with me after we got caught and left to take a shower. I got a bad fucking feeling and busted open the door to find him passed out next to the toilet.”

He’s talking slowly as he can, calm as he can manage because he knows rage will get him exactly squat. 

“I saw he’d taken a buncha’ pills and I called the EMT’s.”

“The only person who can corroborate it is in the hospital right now unconcious. My hands are tied until he wakes up.” 

John squeezes his brows together, twists his mouth against the sharp flicker of fear and then looks back up at Chick, “You believe me though, right?”

Chick kisses his teeth, hands settling on his hips. There’s a purpling bite mark above his sweatshirt collar and John wonders who he’d been pulled out of bed with.

“I’ll see about getting those cuffs off you, John.”

“Fuck the cuffs,” he rasps, “Just promise you’ll tell me how Gale is the moment you hear anything.”

He’s never wanted pity, not once in his life and not even in his worst moments. He bares his teeth at the emotion baldly present in Chick’s eyes.

“Depends how the cards fall, kid.”

-*~*-

Sleep eludes John the entire night, even if he had the desire to attempt the cell too uncomfortable, the lights too bright, the image of Gale fighting for every inhale a constant itch under his skin. He sits and he paces and he runs his fingers through his hair until its stuck up wildly all over his head. Chick had indeed managed to get the cuffs off, and faint red marks are fading to bruises under his hoodie. 

The call had come for him somewhere around nine am. Gale had woken up. 

Had, in his own dazed way, corroborated John’s account of events.

“There’s still a chance, if the district attorneys want to be an asshole, they’ll try to come after you for having the pills in residence at all,” Chick says as he drives, “It probably wouldn’t stick, your grandma has the prescriptions and we knew they would be there when we signed off on you going home to her. But,” he trails off with a shrug. 

John works his jaw, staring out the window and fiddling with his phone. Someone had cleaned it off, the screen iridescent with dried cleaner, and there’s a slew of texts from Brady he can’t begin to be bothered to open. He doesn’t know what to say to Chick, still lost in the sting of his distrust. 

“I still gotta test you,” Chick sighs.

“Whatever,” John says dryly.

“It’s coming from above my head, John.”

“I get it.” 

-*~*-

He hates hospitals. Hates them with a creeping crawling sensation borne of visits both personal and for others. Weeks languishing in a hospital bed with pins in his knee, relearning how to walk and trust his body to carry his weight, muscles wasted and surgery scars cross-crossing his kneecap in ugly slashes.

Complaints of pain that became more fictitious as time went on, eyeing the doctor's prescription booklet with subtle hunger.

Visiting his mother, rail-thin and wasted away. Swearing to himself he’d never end up in those shoes.

He doesn’t like hospitals. He especially loathes them now, running on twenty-four hours of no sleep and in clothes he’s borrowed from his parole officer because if he spent one more second covered in vomit he might have really lost it. The smell of cleaner and faint piss makes his head hurt as he follows a quiet nurse down the hallway. Her crocs squeak on the linoleum.

“He’s pretty exhausted but he’s awake,” She says, stopping at room 418. The door is closed, curtain drawn and John twists his phone between his hands, staring as if he might see right through the wood.

“Thank you,” He says hoarsely.

She allows him into the room himself, which feels almost a novel level of trust after the fifteen hours and his hands a clammy as he shuts the door behind him, slipping on the cheap brass knob. Gale looks tiny in the hospital bed, like he’s dropped ten pounds overnight, hollow around the eyes and cheeks. There’s black staining at the corners of his lips.

“Gave you the old charcoal diet, huh?” John asks, settling into the chair against the wall and regarding Gale. 

The priest looks at him with quiet guilt propped up by bone-deep exhaustion. He looks utterly lost, and John resists the urge to reach out to him. There’s still vomit under his nails. His wrists are still bruised from the cuffs. He almost lost his freedom over someone else's stupid decisions again. 

“John–” Gale rasps, his voice a ruin.

“I’m going to talk,” John interrupts, “You’re going to listen.”

Gale’s mouth shuts with a click, his face crumpling into abject misery.

“Do you understand,” he continues slowly, understanding for the first time the depths of his betrayal and anger now that he knows Gale wasn’t about to be relegated to a hole in the ground, “What you risked?” 

He jabs a finger in Gale’s direction, a furious mimicry of Chick’s anger the night before.

“Do you understand if you had fucking died I would have been looking at twenty years? If not more because I am on fucking parole and you decided to pull that shit in my home!” His voice is raised enough he knows it’ll draw attention. He pauses and takes another breath, swipes a trembling hand through his curls.

Gale makes another quiet noise. 

“You put my life at risk,” John turns the finger back on himself, and his voice cracks as he continues, “I worked so hard Gale. ‘M not perfect but I worked too fucking hard to get where I am and you spit in my face. You used me. You betrayed my fucking trust you stole from my grandmother you tried to kill yourself on my bathroom floor.” 

They’re both crying, Gale’s bloodshot eye so red it’s shocking that the tears aren’t tinged the same hue. John’s fighting to keep his breathing under control. 

“I’ve seen my mom and my best friend and so many other people like that and I never thought it would be you, Buck.” 

“It was stupid,” Gale murmurs, “It was selfish. I wasn’t thinkin’ John I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I tried–”

“I know what you tried,” John snap, “I got powdered pills and puke all over my fucking clothes with what you tried.” 

Gale presses a hand to his face, covering one half of it and squeezing the rest of it into a tight expression. The IV in his arm whispers softly against the sheets with the movement. 

“Are you in trouble?”

“We’re waiting to find out. Chick thinks I should be okay though, since you didn’t go and die.” 

John bounces his foot, glances over at the window and then at the TV that was playing MASH on mute. Gale stares at his hands, picking at the cuticles and radiating regret. His shoulders curve forward, birdlike and protective.

“How are you feeling?” John asks quietly.

Gale huffs a laugh, “Like shit.”

Despite himself, Gale cursing was always gave John a flicker of smug delight. A hint of humanity underneath all the pretense. 

“Yeah, I know.”

Gale picks at his fingers, quiet and tired and John cant help himself but wipe at one of the smears of black. He knows it’s in Gale’s teeth, gritty and sour. Coating the back of his throat in a slimy residue. He knows. 

“They’re just waiting on a bed to open up in their inpatient unit,” Gale admits softly, brows drawing together with shame.

John nods, stands and drags the chair until it’s in line with the bed, kicks his feet up on the sheets because it makes Gale smile faintly and lays his palm out flat beside Gale’s hip, fingers curled loosely. 

“They got volume on this piece of ancient technology?” John asks, “This is a good season. Bet we could get through all of it before they come whisk you away.”

Gale watches him for long minutes, face cycling through a myriad of emotions. Disbelief, annoyance, shock, self-loathing. Quiet, desperately sad affection. His fingers, still too chilled and clammy, slide tentatively between John’s own. Not quite gripping but resting there as if, despite the offer, unsure of their welcome. John does the rest for him, twisting them together and fishing the remote from the nightstand.

[vilevenom]

This idea has been sitting in the back of my mind for a while now, and I finally decided to give it a go. But, wow, I haven't written smut in a literal dogs age, so please be gentle!

This fic is EXPLICIT. But I'm not your mom, so make appropriate decisions for yourself.

Made to Worship at Your Bed

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (no specific media)

Pairing: Sonic/Shadow

Summary: Their first time doesn't exactly go as planned, but it's better than either of them could have imagined.

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual acts. Characters are depicted as ADULTS

P.S - I am a bottom!Shadow truther. Fight me.

Sonic knew perfectly well the implications of Shadow inviting him over while Rouge was off on some globe trotting escapade, leaving the dark hedgehog alone in their shared apartment.

The two had been dating for a few months now, but had yet to spend a night alone with one another. Sure, they'd slept together, but only in the most strict of senses. At any given point, someone was always right around the corner, bound to pop up at the most inopportune of moments, and shatter any notion they had of privacy. Sonic found it to be rather frustrating if he was being honest, though Shadow seemed to find his irritation amusing more than anything. This only served to frustrate the blue hedgehog further.

So, of course, he'd jumped at Shadow's invitation, making sure to take extra time to wash himself thoroughly, going even so far as to steal a small bottle of sweet smelling quill conditioner from Amy to make sure he looked and smelled as delectable as possible. He knew Shadow liked him regardless of how he presented himself, given how the hybrid had practically pounced on him once after they hadn't seen each other for a week, while Sonic had bits of branches and mud stuck all through his quills. But, that didn't mean he couldn't put forth some effort. Shadow was more than worth it, after all. And if the night went the way he hoped it would, then his little bit of extra preparation would serve him well.

A grin of utter jubilation settled itself on his face as he twisted this way and that in front of his bathroom mirror, finally nodding at himself once he was satisfied. He then dashed out of the house, shouting a quick goodbye to Tails as he slipped on his shoes. On his way to Shadow and Rouge's apartment above Club Rouge he made exactly two stops; first to purchase a small bottle of lube on the likely chance that Shadow didn't have his preferred brand (which didn't leave his fur feeling like it was matted with glue as it dried) and a second to buy a moderately sized bouquet of fragrant brightly colored flowers. He knew Shadow absolutely adored the smell of fresh flowers, though only very select people would ever be privy to that information.

Nerves struck him without warning as he came to a stop on Shadow's door step, causing him to freeze with his hand poised just before knocking on the door. However, he squashed them down as quick as they'd come with a swift reminder to himself that he'd been looking forward to this for weeks. It wasn't even his first rodeo, so he wasn't entirely sure what he really had to be nervous about. Perhaps it was the fact that it was Shadow that made him so jittery. Even just being in the same room as the dark hedgehog made his heart go all fluttery in his chest. None of Sonic's previous partners had made him feel quite like Shadow did, so maybe he just didn't want to disappoint the hybrid. After all, the Ultimate Lifeform must have some wild experiences under his belt. Sonic certainly did.

With a brief shake of his head Sonic knocked on the door, rocking back on his heels as he waited for Shadow to answer. The dopey smile that spread across his face as the door swung open came completely unbidden, and he was sure he looked like a lovestruck idiot. However, he could hardly care with the way Shadow's expression softened and his eyes lit up upon landing on Sonic and the bouquet in his hands.

"These are lovely," Shadow hummed in lieu of a greeting, stepping aside to let Sonic in and gingerly take the flowers as they were pushed into his hands.

"Not as lovely as you," Sonic replied with a wink, chortling at the faint flush that spread on Shadow's muzzle as the hybrid shut the apartment door with a soft click.

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Shadow stated bluntly, though he did let a small smile curl his lips as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to Sonic's cheek, "But, thank you for the flowers."

"Needed to get something pretty for my pretty," Sonic chirped, toeing off his shoes and trotting after the dark hedgehog into the apartment, grinning like a loon as Shadow rolled his eyes and headed into the kitchen, unable to hide the way his smile grew fondly.

"You're ridiculous," Shadow hummed, pulling a vase from the cupboard under the kitchen sink, "Dinner will be ready in a moment. Go sit at the table. I'll bring it out shortly."

"Aye aye, captain," Sonic said, giving Shadow a mock salute and laughing as the hybrid obviously tried to muffle a chuckle at Sonic's antics behind a hand.

Dinner was served not a minute later, just as Shadow had said. Spaghetti and meatballs, with a side of cheese bread. Sonic arched an eyebrow as a plate was set in front of him, biting his lip to try and keep from snickering at Shadow's choice of food. However, he obviously hadn't hidden his amusement well enough, as Shadow sat across from him with a little frown. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry," Sonic finally said after a moment, rubbing at his cheek as he grinned warmly at Shadow, "This is just…very Lady and the Tramp of you." He was surprised to find a flush blossoming across Shadow's muzzle at his comment, as he'd fully expected the reference to fly right over the hybrid's head. He sat up in his seat in as Shadow ducked his head and hunched his shoulders in obvious embarrassment. "Wait…was this on purpose?!"

"…Rouge made me watch it last week," Shadow murmured with a hint of hesitation, hands in his lap, "I thought it was nice."

"Oh, Shadow," Sonic crooned, immediately out of his seat and speeding around the table to crouch next to the other. He let a warm smile settle on his face as he tried to catch Shadow's eye, reaching out to scoop the hybrid's hands into his own. "It is nice. Cliche, sure, but very nice. I just hope you didn't hide a suspiciously long noodle between the plates to try and recreate the whole scene."

"What? No, of course not. That would be impractical, and make a mess."

"Of course," Sonic chuckled, squeezing Shadow's hands gently while leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry if I embarrassed you. I just…never expected something like this from you."

"I wanted our first real date to be memorable," Shadow admitted with a small shrug, his posture loosening, "Those cartoon dogs seemed to enjoy it. Rouge suggested having a record of 'Belle Notte' playing, but I thought that was a bit too on the nose."

"You were right. And I would've clocked it a lot sooner," Sonic said with a snort, rising from his crouched position and heading back to his chair, now that Shadow no longer seemed like he might implode from embarrassment. "I appreciate the effort and thought, Shads. It's really sweet of you."

Shadow opened his mouth, a hint of a challenging smirk on his face, before he seemed to think better of whatever was on the tip of his tongue, letting his jaw shut with a click of his teeth. Sonic arched an eyebrow in confusion as Shadow sat back and stabbed a meatball a little too violently with his fork.

"Uh…what's up, Shads?" Sonic prodded, carefully twirling a forkful of noodles up as Shadow stuffed the entire meatball he'd skewered into his mouth. He frowned lightly as Shadow muttered something around the mouthful of meat, the hybrids cheeks turning bright pink again. "Come again?"

"I said," Shadow said, scowling as he swallowed his mouthful, glaring across the table at Sonic with a growl in his voice, "I wanted to do something sweet for my sweet."

Sonic nearly choked on the noodles he'd only just started chewing, coughing as he hastily swallowed them down, quickly chugging half his glass of water afterwards. "Uh, wow," the blue hero finally managed to gasp out as he cleared his throat, "Maybe next time you want to be romantic, say it without the scary face and snarling?"

Shadow huffed, idly twirling his fork around his plate. "It was stupid and embarrassing. You said it first, so of course it was."

"Flatterer," Sonic chirped, chuckling as Shadow rolled his eyes at him. "And unlike with you, that will get you everywhere with me," he added with a wink, relishing the way Shadow's eyes widened minutely as he nearly choked on the pasta he'd just delicately put into his mouth. "Careful, Shads. Don't want you choking until later. If you're into that," he added with a wink, cackling at just how beat red Shadow's face immediately went, while quickly ducking as a piece of bread was lobbed at his head.

The rest of their meal went by without incident, with idle chit chat about Eggman's last attack, GUN's current operations, and how business at Club Rouge had been going taking up a majority of the time.

Once their plates were emptied, Shadow swept the dishes away before Sonic could open his mouth to ask if he could help with clean up, blinking as another plate was placed in front of him not a moment later. He stared down at the delicate looking little chocolate cake, more than a bit surprised by its appearance. In all the time he'd known Shadow, he really couldn't recall ever seeing the hybrid indulge in dessert. When he lifted his gaze, he found Shadow staring at him intently from across the table, his fork poised over his own cake, obviously waiting for Sonic to take a bite before starting. Suddenly feeling like this little cake was much more important than it had any right to be, Sonic picked up his fork and cut into his cake, surprised by the sudden flow of warm, velvety looking chocolate that spilled from the center across his plate. His ears perked at the sigh of relief from across the table, arching an eyebrow as he glanced back up at Shadow.

"I was worried I'd made them wrong," Shadow explained without Sonic needing to ask. With that, he dug into his own cake, humming in appreciation as he took a bite.

"You made these?" Sonic asked, scooping up a bite and doing his best to hold back a moan as the rich taste of warm chocolate slid across his tongue. Shadow had obviously added something to the filling, as it had just a hint of spice that only served to enhance the overall flavor. "This is amazing, Shadow!" the blue hero gushed, not missing the pleased smile that spread over Shadow's face at the compliment.

"I read that lava cakes were a staple dessert for proper dinner dates," the hybrid hummed, swiping liquid chocolate up with his fork and quickly licking it clean, smirking at how Sonic's eyes were trained on his mouth. "I'm not very well versed with baking, but I wanted this dinner to be…special," he admitted quietly, setting his fork aside. "I realize that this may sound silly, but…I wanted this to feel like a regular date. Like what other Mobians do. Our schedules so rarely line up properly, and any time we've gotten to spend together has been co-opted by friends or missions, so I wanted tonight to feel…"

"Normal."

Shadow huffed out a little breath, his gaze fixed on his plate. "I realize that's not really something you're interested in, so I'm sorry if it's a bit boring, but-"

"No! No, Shadow," Sonic found himself rising from his seat for the second time that night, though he did not round the table this time. Instead, he leaned forward, placing his hands on the table so when Shadow lifted his gaze to look at him, he could see the conviction in Sonic's expression as he spoke. "I know how much basic things that other people take for granted, like just getting to have dinner together, mean to you. I want you to get to experience all of the things you missed out on, growing up in space. I know I'm Mister 'Gotta Go Fast', but I am more than happy to slow down with you to enjoy the little things in life. You're worth going slow for, Shadow."

The sudden flash of something dark in Shadow's eyes was not the reaction that Sonic expected from his little speech, his heart skipping a beat as the hybrid abruptly rose from his chair, the wood making a terrible screeching sound as the legs scraped across the floor. Sonic flinched as Shadow grabbed his hands, relaxing after a beat when that was as far as the action went.

"And you," Shadow breathed, getting into Sonic's space, pressing in until the back of Sonic's knees hit his chair and he had to dig his heels in or fall backwards into his seat, "are more than worth going fast for."

Sonic had to swallow hard to keep from whining at the way Shadow was staring at him now, his tail twitching in anticipation, before he finally let out a breathy moan when he was tugged into a hard kiss. Finally, finally, this was what he had been eagerly anticipating since his invitation, his tail a blur as he returned the kiss with vigor.

"Come with me," Shadow rumbled against Sonic's lips, smirking at the shiver that visibly shot up Sonic's spine at his words. Keeping a firm hold of the blue blur's hand, their half eaten dessert forgotten, he lead Sonic through the apartment and into his bedroom, firmly shutting the door behind them. A pleased little hum escaped him as Sonic practically melted as he was pressed back into the door, the hero of Mobius reduced to a clingy puddle as Shadow resumed their kiss and pushed his tongue passed his teeth.

A string of saliva connected them briefly as Shadow pulled away from the kiss, a triumphant smirk settling over his features at the glazed over expression on Sonic's face. "Enjoying yourself, hedgehog?" the hybrid asked, taking a short step back.

Sonic simply whined as Shadow's heat slipped away from him, reaching out to try and catch the hybrid, only to grumble in frustration as Shadow stepped further back, just out of reach of the hero's clingy fingers. "Shadow," he whined, pushing himself off the door to follow after the darker hedgehog, only stopping to stare with wide eyes as Shadow languidly stripped his gloves and socks off, leaving behind only the glint of gold against his striking dark fur. He shot Sonic a sultry smirk over his shoulder, his tail flicking invitingly as he began to meander towards his bed.

"Don't keep me waiting, hedgehog," Shadow murmured, finally breaking Sonic out of his stupor. He was fairly certainly he'd never stripped his gloves and socks off so fast, tossing them only chaos knew where. He paused on his way to the bed to dig the bottle of lube he'd bought out of his quills, only to freeze like a deer caught in headlights with his hand still shoved deep into blue spikes as he moved to climb onto the bed.

Shadow had settled himself into the pile of pillows at the head of his bed, his relaxed quills spread out tantalizingly across them. He was watching Sonic with half-lidded eyes, his knees bent and spread wide, showing off his swollen pouch, while his hands danced teasingly over his abdomen and through his chest fur. Sonic was fairly certain his mouth had never been more full of saliva, as he nearly drooled over Shadow's little display. A weird little chirrup-y sound left him as he finally pulled the bottle from his quills, though his feet remained glued to the carpet.

"Well?" Shadow purred, his knees spreading impossibly wider as he dipped one hand down to tease at the slit of his pouch. Sonic simply choked on air, unable to form enough of a thought to get himself to move. Which was apparently the worst possible thing he could do, because as the seconds dragged on, Shadow quite obviously began to second guess himself. His knees snapped together in a flash as doubt obviously made itself at home in his mind, his cheeks flaming red as he sat up from the pillows, scowl on his muzzle. "I…forget it. This was stupid," he grumbled, his distress finally jarring Sonic's body into motion.

In a flash Sonic was on the bed, tossing the bottle into the pillows so he could get place his hands on Shadow's legs, rubbing his thumbs against the insides of the hybrid's calves in what he hoped was a reassuring or comforting gesture. "Hey! Shadow, no no no. Chaos, I'm so sorry," Sonic soothed, hating how Shadow's ears were pinned back in embarrassment when that had been, bar none, the most erotic display Sonic had ever seen in his entire life. Now he just had to convince Shadow of the same thing, or risk never getting to see the ultimate lifeform beckon him between his knees again. "You short circuited my brain a bit there, that's all," Sonic said with an apologetic little laugh, "I was expecting you to top, if I'm being honest. Got myself all prepped and ready, so I was not expecting to find the most amazing creature ever created splayed out across the bed like that for me." The immediate flick of Shadow's ears towards him at the praise made Sonic smile.

"…Did you want me to top?" Shadow asked after a beat, instead of addressing anything Sonic had just said, earning a fond eye roll from the hero.

"Only if you want to. I just figured, with how you like to be in control of situations pretty much all the time, that'd just carry through to the bedroom. I'm more than happy, either way," Sonic reassured, petting down Shadow's calves to rest his hands on the inhibitor rings at his ankles.

"That's the exact reason I didn't want to," Shadow muttered, causing Sonic to frown in mild confusion. He let out a tiny huff of air, glaring at the blue hero for a moment, before deflating and ducking his head slightly. "I was doing some reading in preparation for tonight, and I wound up on a website which discussed different sexual positions, preferences, and so forth. I wanted to be well prepared for any direction the evening may have gone, and I…I found a particular article talking about 'bottoming' or being a submissive, and I thought it would be nice to-to have someone I trust be in control." He peered up at Sonic, his cheeks significantly less red than they had been before, but still distinctly pink tinged. "And I," he cleared his throat, looking away quickly as he spoke, his ears pinning back once more, "I wanted to know what it would feel like to have someone inside me who I chose to let in."

"Shadow," Sonic breathed, his own cheeks flushed, but for completely different reasons than Shadow. His tail whipped back and forth as he leaned further into the hybrid's space, startling Shadow into falling back into his pillows with a put upon grunt. "That is, simultaneously very sweet, incredibly touching, and the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me."

"I…Really?"

"I wouldn't have said it if it weren't true," Sonic hummed, sliding his hands back up Shadow's legs to gently wiggle his fingers in between the hybrid's knees. Slowly, he pushed Shadow's knees apart and pressed into the space it made, smiling encouragingly as Shadow relaxed further back into the pillows. "Now…I believe I have some making up to do, since I'm pretty sure neither of us are all too aroused anymore," he added, glancing down to find that, as expected, Shadow's pouch was very much flat and hidden by fur. He smirked at the way the hybrid squirmed at being observed, and how his tail curled up protectively over his crotch. "Now, now," Sonic soothed, planting his hands to either side of Shadow's chest and leaning in over the other, his smirk growing at the way Shadow's eyes grew wide at his somewhat domineering shift in demeanor, "I'm going to take good care of you, Shads. I promise. You trust me, right?"

"Of course," Shadow breathed, his claws absently digging into the bedsheets, ears pricked forward in interest.

"Good. Then first," Sonic hummed, pulling Shadow's hands from the sheets to burry them in his blue quills instead, "You can touch me. And you know I'm not fragile, so you can even use claws a little bit, if you want. Just be careful not to dig in too deep, okay?" A quick, jerky little nod from the hybrid was his only response, but he could feel Shadow's fingers toying with his quills, so he figured his words were getting through. With that, he dipped his head down and began to pepper Shadow with tiny kisses, starting from the side of his muzzle and working his way down, pausing only briefly to dig his fangs lightly into the juncture of Shadow's neck and shoulder, relishing the restrained little moan the action resulted in. "Don't be shy, Shadow," Sonic murmured into the hybrid's shoulder as he moved down to a fluffy white chest, taking a short moment to press his face into the soft fur there, "I want to hear you. You'll be a good boy and let me hear you, won't you?"

The moan that ripped out of Shadow was louder and more unrestrained than Sonic had been expecting. He jerked his head up to find Shadow's face beat red, one of his fangs digging into his lower lip as he stared at the ceiling like it had offended his mother. "Did you like that?" Sonic asked, a wicked grin on his lips as Shadow let out a strained grunt, obviously at war with his want to let go and his inherent need to hold himself to some impossible standard while maintaining control. "Hey, it's okay, Shadow," Sonic cooed, letting his fingers dance up and over the hybrid's sides, "I like that you want to be my good boy. And I like how loud you were. Let's me know I'm doing a good job, doesn't it?"

Slowly, between his gentle cajoling and tender caresses, Sonic could feel the tension the dark hedgehog held slowly melt away. He hummed happily at the way Shadow's ears rolled back into a relaxed, submissive position, and his gaze softened as he let his coiled muscles relax against the bed. "That's it, Shads," Sonic cooed, settling back down to resume his trail of kisses, "Such a good boy." The low moan that escaped Shadow this time was far less exuberant than the last, but just as thrilling to Sonic. He was fully aware of the sheer weight of the trust he was being given, as Shadow let the last vestiges of his walls fall down. It was a heady feeling, and Sonic was eager to ensure he kept it.

The low, rumbling purr that kicked up as Sonic's kisses moved over Shadow's stomach were an additional surprise that had the hero's ears perking forward eagerly. He lifted himself slightly to find Shadow's head tipped back, blinking slowly and obviously letting himself slip away into Sonic's tender ministrations, if the way his gaze seemed unfocused and his fingers lazily stroked through blue quills were anything to go by. Sonic smirked, chewing on his lip for a moment, before making one of his signature snap decisions. He quickly dipped his head and ran his tongue over Shadow's now prominent pouch bulge, the tip of his tongue just barely pressing into the slit there. He braced himself as Shadow let out a startled grunt, Sonic fully anticipating the way the dark hedgehog's fingers tightened and pulled at his quills as his purr guttered out.

"S-sorry," Shadow's breathy apology sent a shiver down Sonic's spine, his tail happily wagging away as he grinned up at the hybrid, while Shadow pet apologetically at his head.

"No need to apologize, Shads," Sonic hummed happily, licking his lips languidly, "I didn't exactly give you any warning. Do you mind if I continue?"

Shadow gave his head a short shake, his low purr starting up again as Sonic scattered a few soft kisses to his inner thighs, before letting his tongue slide back over Shadow's pouch. He was infinitely curious to know what Shadow was packing, if he was being completely honest with himself. The thought had occupied his mind on a handful of occasions, resulting in more than one swift trip to the bathroom to either clean himself up or take a cold shower. He was a touch disappointed that he wouldn't get the opportunity to ride Shadow like he'd imagined this time around, but getting to swallow him down would be a good consolation price. As such, he let out his own happy little moan as the tip of Shadow's cock began to poke out of his pouch, his tail practically turning into a blur as he laved his tongue once more over the slit, before closing his mouth over it and sucking. He jerked a bit as Shadow's hands suddenly shoved down on his head, a startled shout from the hybrid accompanying the action as Shadow's girth rapidly slid into Sonic's mouth, very much choking the hedgehog as the length of it was a bit more than he had been expecting. He squirmed in Shadow's hold, lifting his head quickly and sucking in a deep breath once the hybrid's hands were out of his quills, and his cock out of his throat. He was never quite so thankful to not have a particularly strong gag reflex.

"Are you okay?" Shadow wheezed, looking a mix of dazed and apologetic, his hands hovering in the air, reaching for Sonic.

"Y-yeah," Sonic coughed, rubbing at his throat with a light wince, though he shot Shadow a quick smile of reassurance, "Caught me off guard, is all."

"That's an understatement…"

Sonic snorted, finally looking a bit bashful as he shrugged slightly. "Sorry, not sorry?"

Shadow simply chuckled, letting his hands drop to the bed, digging them into his own quills as he nestled more fully into his pillows. "Of course you're not sorry."

"Nope," Sonic chirped, finally looking down to see what he was working with, only for his mouth to flood with saliva at the sight. It was no wonder Shadow had choked him, despite his lack of gag reflex. The hybrid's cock was girthy and long, with a tantalizing looking ridge of little bumps lining the underside. He swallowed and ran his fingers up along the side of Shadow's spit slick dick, grinning madly at the whine and shiver the simple little touch elicited from Shadow. "Especially not when this is my prize."

"Sonic," Shadow murmured, almost pleading. It was such a wild departure from what Sonic was used to, it made him all the more eager to please his partner and make this a night Shadow would never forget. If only so that he would get to experience it over and over again.

"I've got you, Shads," Sonic hummed, momentarily casting his gaze around at the pillows to locate the little bottle of lube he'd haphazardly tossed there earlier. Quickly, he snatched it up, holding it so Shadow could see the label when he was cast a curious look. "I'm gonna prep you now, okay?" He leaned in to press a brief kiss to Shadow's mouth at the hybrid's nod of ascent, before sliding back down the bed, slathering his fingers in lube as he went, before taking the tip of Shadow's cock into his mouth. He began to bob his head a little as he gently swirled his fingers over Shadow's entrance, not missing the way the hybrid tensed slightly at the touch. Sonic had little to no doubt that no matter how many experiences the other may have had, he was definitely the first partner Shadow let top, and as such he was bound and determined to go as slow and gently as possible to make this the best possible experience Shadow could have.

Once the hybrid was used to his touch and had sufficiently relaxed, Sonic gingerly pressed the tip of his finger inside, dipping his head to swallow down nearly half of Shadow's length in order to distract from the intrusion. Luckily, this time Shadow's fingers dug into own pillows instead of Sonic's quills, though his hips did jump up a bit, causing Sonic to draw back and click his tongue quietly. "You gotta relax, Shads," he murmured, methodically pumping his finger in and out of Shadow as the hybrid panted above him, "Much as I enjoy your cock in my throat, I'd like it to be on my own terms, yeah?" His only reply was a short nod from Shadow, and the hybrid squeezing his eyes shut as he forced his hips back down onto the bed. "Mmm, that's a good boy," Sonic sighed, rubbing at Shadow's stomach with his free hand, not missing the low whine that left the hybrid at the pet name.

Sonic continued to prep Shadow slowly while laving attention on his cock, pausing every time the other squirmed or made a sound of distress. It made the whole process about three times longer than Sonic was used to, but as he'd told Shadow over dinner, the hybrid was more than worth going slow for, especially now. And he couldn't even say that he wasn't enjoying the tedious process, given that he'd never seen Shadow so free with himself. Sonic was committing every soft whine, quiet plead and aborted movement to memory. Truly, he wished he had a camera so he could go back later to rewatch Shadow come undone beneath him on repeat.

Finally, when Sonic was three fingers deep and Shadow looked like he was near tears as little strings of babbled nonsense escaped him, Sonic figured he'd been thorough enough. Gingerly, he extracted his fingers, relishing in the whimper and low whine that left Shadow as he did so. "Hey now," he cooed, snatching the little bottle of lube up from the bed to pour some over his own sizable length, which had slipped free of his pouch while he'd been tending to the hybrid and had begun to weep precum against the sheets, "The best is yet to come. No need to whine." He chuckled at the soft scowl Shadow shot him, the hybrid's ear pressed back as he barred his teeth a little. "C'mon," Sonic hummed, tapping the head of his cock against Shadow's entrance teasingly, "What's the magic word?"

"F-fuck you," Shadow nearly snarled, though it was breathy at best, while his hips shifted to press down to try to force Sonic inside.

"Ah, ah, ah," Sonic shook his head, drawing back and grinning at the way Shadow huffed and arched his back. "The point of this activity is to fuck you," he added, snorting as Shadow dug his head into the pillows with a grunt, "Now…What's the magic word? Don't you want to be a good boy?"

That seemed to be Shadow's magic word, as his hips dropped and his chest gave a slight heave as he sucked in a deep breath. Tentatively, he peered up at Sonic, the grasp on his last few shreds of control seemingly slipping away. "Please," he whispered, whimpering as Sonic shifted forward to rub the tip of his dick against Shadow's entrance once more.

"A little bit louder, Shads. I didn't quite catch that."

"Please!" Shadow shouted, uncharacteristically desperate. His eyes were pleading as he pushed his hips down, his back arched with the movement, and his claws digging into the pillow behind his head enough that it looked two seconds from being torn in half.

"That's my good boy," Sonic cooed, letting himself finally sink into Shadow's welcoming heat.

The sob that followed caught the hero completely off guard, faltering at the sight of tears slowly rolling down Shadow's muzzle and dampening his fur. He quickly scrambled to pull out, worry coursing through him at the thought that he'd somehow managed to hurt Shadow, despite his thorough stretching. However, upon shifting his hips he found Shadow's legs firmly clamped around his torso, forcing him to either stay still or move forward. He swallowed thickly, reaching down to pet at Shadow's stomach, since he certainly wasn't about to press forward while the hybrid was actively crying.

"Shads? Hey, Shadow? Can you look at me?" Sonic pleaded, worrying his bottom lip as Shadow slowly blinked teary eyes open to stare up at the hero, his vision blatantly unfocused. "Hi there," Sonic cooed, offering the other a tentative smile as he continued to pet at Shadow, "You okay?"

A slow nod was Sonic's only reply.

"Okay, well…you're crying. Are you aware of that?"

Shadow frowned lightly, pulling a hand free of the pillows to swipe at his face, his brows arching in bewilderment as he wiped away tears.

"I'll take that as a no…Are you hurt?"

A short shake of his head was Shadow's reply as he stared at his now damp fingers.

"Okay…you wanna keep going?"

"Mmm," Shadow hummed, nudging his feet against Sonic's lower back, forcing the hero's hips forward an inch, a low groan leaving Shadow as Sonic sunk a little deeper into him. He let his hand fall back into the pillows, his own worry over his tears obviously nowhere near what Sonic's had been if the way he rolled his hips was anything to go by.

"Alright. Well, you let me know if you do wanna stop, okay?" Sonic insisted, ignoring the grumble of irritation his lack of movement caused. "No, Shadow. This is important. You tell me if we need to stop. Okay?" Sonic waited patiently as Shadow rolled his head back with a groan, watching intently as the hybrid took a couple of deep breaths, before finally focusing back on Sonic, looking a bit more lucid this time.

"I will," Shadow rumbled, dancing his fingers up Sonic's arm, before digging them back into the pillow next to his head, "S'just a lot. S'good, though. Keep going." That seemed to be the extent Shadow was willing to keep focus, as he relaxed back into the pillows and nudged at Sonic's hips again, "Please."

"Mmm, how can I say no to that?" Sonic sighed, letting Shadow push him forward, essentially allowing the hybrid to set the pace as he ever so slowly pressed inside.

Once fully seated inside, Sonic buried his nose in Shadow's shoulder, lingering to let the other get used to the feeling of being full. He knew from experience that it could be a lot the first time, and he didn't want to accidentally overwhelm Shadow again by moving too soon. He smiled faintly as Shadow's hands moved from being dug into the bedding, to sunk into his quills, taking the opportunity as Shadow clung to him to suck a few more little love bites onto the hybrids shoulder and neck. He was so absorbed in his own little activity that he nearly choked on saliva and fur as Shadow's muscles suddenly clenched around him. For a moment, he'd thought it had been in response to his bites, as Shadow relaxed again when he pulled his face away. However, the hybrids' muscles clenched again without warning not a moment later, pulling a low whine from Sonic.

"Shadow?" He leaned a bit further back so he could get a look at the hybrid's face, only to find Shadow zoned out and staring at the ceiling, his lower lip caught between his teeth as his abdominal muscles methodically tensed and relaxed against and around Sonic. "Fuck," the hero grunted, gasping at a particularly hard clench, dropping to dig his face into Shadow's chest. He knew it wasn't the intention by any means, but it practically felt like Shadow was trying to milk him. "Shads," Sonic groaned, gasping as Shadow shifted his hips at the same time as he clenched his muscles, the hero's self restraint holding on by an extremely thin thread, "Shadow, please."

That seemed to snap the hybrid out of whatever strange little zen moment he'd gotten caught up in, letting his hips drop to the bed and going lax beneath Sonic. Letting out a little breath, Sonic sat back, drawing out slowly as he moved. He couldn't help the fond little chuckle that left him as Shadow gasped and whimpered at the loss, only to moan happily as Sonic easily slid right back in. "I've got you," Sonic sighed, starting up an unhurried pace, drawing nearly all the way out and pressing back in, in long, steady strokes. "That's it," he hummed, watching in rapt attention as Shadow's gaze went completely unfocused, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as his beath came out in short, sharp little gasps. "So good for me, Shadow," he began to ramble, experimenting with his angle every other thrust to see how the dark hedgehog would react, "You're taking me so well. Look at you." He grinned as Shadow's hips suddenly shot up, accompanied by a choked gasp. A tell tale signal to Sonic that he'd hit the hybrid's prostate.

Sonic leisurely ground into that spot inside Shadow a few times, biting at his lip as he watched thick beads of precum drip from Shadow's cock onto his belly. "Fuck…just look at you," he breathed, shifting to lift Shadow's legs over his shoulders so he could bury himself inside just that little bit deeper. "Wish you could see yourself like this, Shads," he groaned, his pace picking up slightly, earning punched out little gasps from Shadow, "So gorgeous. Head totally empty, all spread open and stuffed full of my cock." He pressed a sloppy kiss to the inside of Shadow's knee, leaning in and practically bending the hybrid in half as his hips sped up further, the sounds pouring out of Shadow's mouth nearly loud enough to rattle the walls.

"Such. A. Good. Boy," Sonic grunted, punctuating each word with a sharp, hard thrust, feeling his end rapidly approaching. He grunted as he ground himself into Shadow as deep as he could go, leaning up to languidly drag his tongue over Shadow's ear, the sensitive appendage flicking against his mouth. "Touch yourself," Sonic practically growled into Shadow's ear, "Let me see you cum." He shifted back once he felt Shadow's hand trying to wriggle in between their bodies, a feral little grin on his face as the hybrid hurried to obey, wrapping his fingers around his length and stroking quickly. "Good boy, Shadow," Sonic growled out, picking up his brisk pace once more, chasing his own release as Shadow's back arched off the bed with a broken moan. "Cum on my cock, pet. Cum all over yourself for me," he grunted, nipping at the inside of Shadow's knee and letting out a pleased groan as Shadow spasmed below him, his muscles convulsing as ropes of white painted his belly and a thready shout ripped from his lungs. "Mmm, that's my good, obedient boy," Sonic cooed, before slamming his hips home and emptying himself as deep inside Shadow as he could push.

The two sat entangled for a moment, their panting breaths echoing though the room the only sound. Finally, Sonic shifted minutely, an apologetic smile on his face as he carefully slid Shadow's legs down from his shoulders. "Ah, sorry about…well, my mouth sort of ran off without me," he said with a light chuckle, his thumbs swirling little circles through the damp fur of the hybrid's thighs, "I didn't meant to make it weird…" As he moved to pull out, he found Shadow's legs had shifted to wrap around his hips, effectively pinning him in place. He blinked, about to ask Shadow what was up, when the hybrids arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him down, very nearly smashing his nose into the other's shoulder. "Ah! Oh? Uh…cuddles? Is that what you want?" Shadow's deep, rumbling purr began to kick up again as Sonic settled against him, so he figured that was the correct answer. He supposed there were worse things than being koala cuddled by your boyfriend while still buried balls deep inside him. He let out a quiet sigh, nuzzling into the side of Shadow's muzzle and letting his own purr reverberate through his chest.

Sonic stayed like that until he could feel his dick starting to retract into his pouch, at which point he figured it was time the two of them get cleaned up. Gingerly, he pried Shadow's arms from around his neck, while planting a quick kiss to the hybrid's cheek. "Mmm, I think it's time to get up, Shads," he sighed, sitting up and back, unable to help himself but to glance down as he finally fully slipped free of Shadow's heat, watching as his spend slowly began to seep out of the hybrid's entrance. He bit his lip to try and hide his self satisfied grin at how he'd marked the 'ultimate lifeform', though his tail easily betrayed him as it wagged happily away. "Look at you, Shads," he murmured, pushing one of Shadow's knees further out to spread the hybrid open wider, "So pretty…"

He frowned, his purr coming to a stuttering stop as it finally occurred to him that Shadow wasn't making some snide remark back at him for his comment, or snapping at him for staring. As a matter of fact, he hadn't really said anything since letting Sonic know that he was okay after crying. He dragged his gaze up to Shadow's face, a little worried at what he might find, and more than a little worried to find Shadow still looking nearly as dazed as he had been in the throws of passion, though curiously the hybrid was still purring loudly.

"Shadow?" He shakily pet at Shadow's side, when something he'd read only the week before suddenly popped into his head. At the time, he'd thought Rouge was just being her regular, mildly vulgar, cheeky self when she'd sent Sonic several links about dominant/submissive relationships, and aftercare instructions. He'd scoffed when he'd opened them, thinking she'd been trying to pull his chain about how rough Shadow was going to be with him. Now he was wondering if, perhaps, she'd been trying to subtly support Shadow in her own weird way by sending Sonic some rather informative links. He hadn't really had any intention of reading the articles, but now he was quite thankful for his natural, insatiable curiosity. If he was recalling correctly, Shadow was likely in some sort of 'subspace', probably brought on from pushing himself to give up his control to Sonic, and the hero continuously putting particular emphasis on praising the hybrid as a 'good boy'. Nothing too serious, but he needed to snap Shadow out of it slowly to make sure the other didn't suddenly become overwhelmed.

"Hey," Sonic cooed, reaching both hands up to gently cup Shadow's face, softly brushing his thumbs along the other's cheek bones, "Shadow? Hey, pet…I need you to focus on my voice, okay? You were such a good boy, but I need you to focus now, alright?"

"…I was good?"

Sonic's ears immediately perked up at Shadow's soft words, nodding happily at the other. "Yes! You were so good. Now, just listen to my voice and come back to me. You did so well, I just need you to keep listening to me…"

It took a bit of soft cajoling, but Shadow's gaze finally seemed to snap into focus on Sonic as he took a deep breath, a full body shiver over taking him as he lifted his hands to cover the cobalt blue ones on his face. "Sonic…"

"There you are," Sonic sighed happily, leaning to pepper feather light kisses over Shadow's face, his toes curling happily at the soft chuckle he managed to pull from the hybrid. He sat back on his haunches once he felt the hybrid was sufficiently peppered, resting his hands on Shadow's knees and absently rubbing them. "You doing okay?"

"Yes," Shadow murmured, rubbing at his face with a quiet grunt, "Though, that was…unexpected."

"Good unexpected, or bad unexpected?"

"Mmm…that remains to be seen."

"…How's that?"

Shadow chuckled quietly. "I'm trying to decide if it's worth it to allow you to call me 'pet'."

"Ah," Sonic flushed, lopsided grin on his face, "Sorry. That really was heat of the moment. It just sort of slipped out."

"I'm sure it was," Shadow muttered, shifting to sit up, only to cringe at the feeling of Sonic's cum dribbling out of his entrance. "That's-"

"I got it!" Sonic cut Shadow off, zooming away, only to reappear a moment later with a damp washcloth in hand. "Here," he hummed, placing a hand on Shadow's chest to encourage him to lay back, while carefully cleaning up the mess he'd left with the cloth.

"It's cold," Shadow grumbled, flopping back into his pillows.

"Yeah, sorry," Sonic sighed, looking sheepish, "Didn't really have time to let the water warm up. But! How about I go run us a bath? I saw the fancy tub in the bathroom, and nothing feels nicer after sex than a warm bath."

"Is that so?" Shadow hummed, rolling onto his side as Sonic slipped off the bed. "Speaking from experience?"

"Oh, yeah," Sonic grinned, shooting Shadow a wink, "Having someone else wash your quills after an orgasm? One of my top ten favorite experiences."

"Well, then. I guess I have to try it for myself."

"You got it," Sonic chirped, bouncing on his toes. He quickly swooped in to press a brief kiss to Shadow's cheek, taking note of the smitten little smile on the hybrid's face that he was sure Shadow thought he was moving to fast to see, before shooting off to the bathroom to start the bath. For good measure, he added a few splashes from the various bottles around the tub into the water, humming in satisfaction at the enticing aroma that flooded the bathroom. The resulting smattering of bubbles across the waters surface was a nice bonus, too.

When he returned to the bedroom, Sonic found Shadow sliding from the bed, his toes just about to touch carpet, before Sonic zipped over and scooped him into a bridal carry with a cheeky grin.

"I can walk!" Shadow snarked, punching Sonic in the shoulder with no real power behind it.

"I'm aware," Sonic hummed, waltzing out of the room, "But this is just nicer, isn't it?" He concluded that Shadow must agree with him, as the hybrid did little more than huff quietly and fold his arms over his chest. He chuckled and kicked the door shut once they were in the bathroom, striding over to the tub and snorting when Shadow's arms suddenly coiled around his neck tightly. "…Seriously? You think I'm going to drop you in the tub?"

"It's you. Of course I do."

Sonic rolled his eyes, gingerly placing Shadow in the tub before reaching to shut off the faucet. "Give me at least a little credit, Shads," he sighed, stepping into the tub himself after snatching a couple of wash clothes from under the sink. "That'd be no way to treat my perfect little pet, now would it?"

Shadow bristled and growled quietly under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from Sonic. "Careful, hedgehog."

"Yeah, yeah," Sonic hummed, poking at Shadow to get him to turn around in the tub, pouring some soap into his quills and digging his fingers in once the other finally decided to cooperate. "Anyway…what did you think? Still worth going fast for?"

"Hmm?" Shadow sounded somewhat dreamy as Sonic's fingers dug into his quills, tilting his head slightly to glance over his shoulder. "What? The sex? Or the bath?"

"Uh, either? Both?"

"The bath is good," Shadow sighed with a little nod, turning to face forward again, "As for the sex…I knew it was going to be messy. That alone never really made it very appealing to me. But…I enjoyed it. It was nice to let go and know I was going to be cared for. So, for that, thank you, Sonic."

"You're welcome? Never really been thanked for sex before, so this is new," Sonic snorted quietly in amusement, grabbing the shower head to rinse the soap from Shadow's quills.

"I don't expect it will be a reoccurring thing," Shadow chuckled, turning around once Sonic indicated he was free of soap, "But for the first time? Especially since I hadn't realized what would happen…I appreciate that you kept calm and helped bring me back to myself."

"Well," Sonic admitted, blushing slightly as he sunk into the water, "I might've…Rouge might've sent me some reading material."

"Of course she did," Shadow snorted, rolling his eyes. "Even still. For a first experience, you certainly made it enjoyable."

Sonic froze blinking up at Shadow from the water, squinting slightly. "Wait…Wait a minute," he sat up, water sloshing over the edge of the tub, much to Shadow's chagrin. Several casual comments and the way Shadow had acted suddenly fit together like little puzzle pieces in Sonic's head. "You were a virgin?!"

Shadow simply stared at him with an unamused arch of his brow. "Yes? I would have thought that was obvious."

"Wh-no?! You're, like, the coolest guy around! And ridiculously attractive! How?!"

Shadow couldn't help the little chuckle that left him at Sonic's astonishment, twirling his finger in the air to indicate that the hero should turn around so he could return the favor of washing his quills. He finally spoke once Sonic situated himself with his back to Shadow. "It's simple, really," he hummed, rubbing soap into Sonic's quills, "No one else was worth my time."

"I-" Sonic sunk into the water as a flush spread over his cheeks, only to squeak as Shadow prodded him into sitting back up, "That's both incredibly sweet, and a little bit conceded."

"I'm not wrong."

With a soft laugh as Shadow rinsed soap from his quills, he couldn't help but quietly agree.

"Oh, and I've decided," Shadow later commented out of the blue, once the tub was drained and they were both wrapped in oversized, fluffy towels and sat huddled together on fresh blankets on Shadow's bed.

"Yeah? What'd you decide?"

"That I don't mind."

"Mind what, Shads?"

"Hmm…being your 'pet'."

A self satisfied grin danced across Shadow's lips as Sonic choked on air.

[underdark-dreams]

yooo i love ur writings sm dude! thank u for providing the MUCH needed and appreciated rolan n dammon food ! if ur still accepting and willing to write for a more masc reader, would u do hcs with rolan (and/or dammon, idc :>) with a top/dom inclined reader? :]

BLESS your patience, anon! I got lost in writing a smut fic for this request this week. But you asked for headcanons, so it doesn't feel fair to make you keep waiting! In thanks, please expect a Rolan x m!Tav oneshot soon. 🖤

Rolan x top/dom M!Reader: Relationship Headcanons

[SFW + NSFW both under the cut]

SFW

This wizard has a serious case of oldest sibling disorder

Rolan can be downright bossy, because a lot of his self identity rests on feeling powerful and in control of things

On a deeper level, Rolan is just used to being the one taking care of the people he loves. Having the scenario flipped—being taken care of for once—it throws him off balance

Falling for a guy who takes the lead and takes initiative might honestly cause Rolan a mild identity crisis without him realizing. He’ll deny the feelings for a week or two, stewing and blushing and unintentionally broadcasting his crush to anyone around him

This was not the plan. So why does he keep daydreaming about you picking him up princess style and tossing him down onto your bed

Inside Rolan’s dying to get swept off his feet and lavished, he just doesn’t know it yet

Maybe it finally clicks for him the first time you pull Rolan close and murmur all your appreciation into his pointed ear

Rolan is so weak for praise and so, so hungry for it, especially from you

He can’t help but melt inside when you tell him how good he is, how clever and competent, how much he deserves to feel incredible and how much you’d enjoy being the one to make him feel that way

Kiss him afterward and feel Rolan whimper softly against your mouth as he goes a bit limp in your arms. He’s entirely yours

He’s not only falling in love with you, he’s discovering a whole side of himself he never gave himself time or permission to explore

But you? You make him feel loved and completely safe

Rolan will occasionally come to you to pout or complain about trivial things, just to get a kiss and hear you assure him you’ll take care of it for your sweet little mage

He’s still flustered by how much he enjoys it at first, even more so when he feels himself flush and stiffen under his robes

Rolan also becomes addicted to the feeling of being wrapped up in your arms

Your arm draped on his shoulder: your hands looped around his waist to keep him tucked in close while you’re kissing: and especially your forearms caging him in against the wall while you grind against each other

Rolan’s still proud, so it’s not easy for him to admit or ask for these things out loud unless you’re alone

But even in a public setting, he will sometimes appear close beside your shoulder and glance over at you with a wordless request that means please hold me a bit, I’m tired/lonely/needy for you

If you don’t notice fast enough, Rolan might softly brush your hand or loop his tail low around your calf to get your attention. You’re the one who awakened these feelings in him, and by the hells he’s not going to be ignored now

Face it: you have unleashed needy sub Rolan upon yourself, you’ll just have to dom up and deal with the consequences

NSFW:

When you’re fucking him, Rolan can be somehow vulnerable and teasing/demanding all at the same time

Old habits die hard…so might Rolan if you don’t give him what he needs

Rolan knows the right word from you or the right gesture pinning his wrist or thigh can get him dangerously close to losing it, and some nights that makes him feel rebellious

He has a smart mouth even in bed, and provoking you excites him sometimes

‘Gods, I bet I can finish myself before you do—’ Rolan’s grip closes around his own hard cock as your slickened fingers gently and slowly prepare him

Other nights he has absolutely zero fight in him. Just a soft pile of Tiefling clinging to the man he loves as he kisses across your shoulders, asking you to take him while you tell him that he’s more than good enough

Rolan may try to hide it (that or he’ll make zero effort), but he’s weak for any time you order him around or direct him

‘Get on your hands and knees’ ‘Spread for me like a good boy, Rolan’ ‘Stop biting your lip or I’ll bite it for you—go on and let everyone hear who makes you feel this good, that’s it—’

It all gets him so needy for your cock that he can’t say no to any of it until you’re filling him

His favorite positions are usually the ones that let him hold onto you for even more closeness—missionary, against his desk in the Tower, etc.

Of course, those don't give him a chance to hide his reactions from you, so you’ll occasionally see him blush dark or squeeze his eyes shut or bite back the sounds you coax out of him

Alternatively: just tell Rolan he thinks too much and fuck him into his mattress so hard he can’t think about anything else at all including his own ego

The way he clutches your shoulders for dear life and pants your name will let you know how much Rolan loves it (and you)

[redpenship]

an: a little fic i wrote in a couple of hours about sonic having terrible hedgehog eyesight <3 (1.6k words)

-

Sonic can’t see very well. 

There’s a lot about the hedgehog that Tails doesn’t know. He doesn’t know Sonic’s birthday, where he comes from, why he doesn’t like to talk . . . his new friend is a big mystery to him, and one that would apparently prefer to remain unsolved, at that. 

One thing he does know, however, is that Sonic has very poor eyesight. 

Of course, Sonic has never directly revealed this to him. His weak vision has simply become increasingly obvious over the course of their short two months of friendship. 

Tails curled up for a nap on their shared blanket around half an hour ago, but despite his growing body’s need for rest, he can’t fall asleep just yet. He’s too busy watching Sonic through the gaps in his tail fur, which he has placed over his snout to conceal his face while he ‘napped’. It’s probably wrong to look at people without them knowing, but he’s too intrigued by Sonic’s bizarre actions to look away. 

A few minutes ago, Sonic had put down their pack of matches on a stump in front of him while he opened the canteen to take a sip of water. After putting down the water, he’d looked back up and apparently, in such a short span of time, lost the pack of matches needed to light the fire. He’s been searching since then, notably patting down his surroundings with his hands in lieu of conducting a visual sweep of the area. If anything, it almost seems like he doesn’t trust his vision at all. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Sonic to find the matches. He turns the once-missing box over in front of his eyes, a hard expression on his face. Is he upset? 

Suddenly, Sonic stiffens in place. His right ear swivels towards Tails, and the young fox knows he’s been found out even before Sonic’s head can follow through on the movement. 

They meet eyes through Tails’ fur. Sonic frowns, blinks once, twice, and then turns back to the fire pit. 

He avoids Tails for the rest of the night. Tails learns something important that day: Sonic knows he has bad eyesight, and he doesn’t like it when other people know about it too.

Quietly, to himself, Tails swears to pretend he never saw anything. If Sonic doesn't want him to know that he can't see very well, then he'll just act like he never figured it out in the first place.

-

Sonic's eyesight goes unacknowledged for a whole year, until there’s a storm bad enough to ground the Tornado on Angel Island during what was supposed to be a brief trip to visit Knuckles. The storm winds up passing not too long after sundown, and the clear skies reveal light years of stars and constellations above where they’re resting in the grass. 

“The three dots are called Orion’s Belt,” Tails says, pointing to the sky in an effort to guide Knuckles’ gaze to said constellation. “Do you see it?” 

Knuckles squints. After a moment, he nods. “Yes, I do.” 

They take turns pointing out different stars to each other. Tails is having fun until he remembers the hedgehog sitting beside him. 

He glances over. Sonic is staring at the night sky with that same hard expression from the time he lost the matches, lips turned down into a scowl. He isn’t happy at all. 

It dawns on Tails for the first time that he might not be capable of seeing the stars. Thinking back, he can’t recall many times Sonic has actually looked up at the sky. His gaze is usually set straight ahead, focused only on what is right in front of him. It does not wander because there is not much else it can see. 

“Hey, hedgehog,” Knuckles begins, pulling both Sonic and Tails’ attention towards him. “Are you going to help, or are you just going to sit there and do nothing?” 

Sonic’s jaw tenses. He snaps his head away from Knuckles, staring straight ahead at nothing instead. “I’m going to sit here and do nothing, thanks.” 

Knuckles smirks. “Why? Do you not know any?”

It’s the wrong thing to joke about. Sharply, Sonic says, “No, I don’t know any.” 

In a flash, he’s on his feet at the other side of the meadow. Knuckles rolls his eyes and accuses him of melodrama, but Tails stops listening as he watches Sonic disappear into the woods at the edge of the grass. A rock as big as the Master Emerald has settled in his stomach. He wants to follow him and try to make things better, but knowing Sonic, that would only make things worse . . . 

Tails sleeps in the meadow. He doesn’t see Sonic until the next morning, where he largely avoids talking to both Tails and Knuckles until it’s time to go. 

-

Sonic’s eyesight does not impair his ability to forage. His nose twitches continuously while he looks through he forest for food, leading Tails to believe that his sense of smell and hearing carry the bulk of this spatial awareness. 

They help him fight badniks, too. Eggman’s machines are loud and smell like metal and oil. During a raid on one of the doctor’s bases, Tails puts this theory to the test by closing his eyes and trying to detect the objects around him. 

It works. Even without his sight, he’s able to keep track of nearby badniks pretty well. Sonic isn’t blind, per se, but it becomes evermore clear to Tails that Sonic’s resistance against Eggman would be much more challenging if he didn’t have his other senses to fall back on. 

The issue, today, is that those senses have been taken out by an explosion. 

It had started as a standard attack on an empire base. As they’d approached the last room in the base, neither of them had noticed the razor-thin tripwire stretched across entryway.

There had been no time to escape. Before Tails could blink, a fiery force knocked him off his feet and slammed him against a metal wall. 

His head hurts. He moves to get up, but comes to a stop when he notices a shrill ringing noise overtaking his hearing. The rest of the world is muffled, as though his head were underwater. 

If he can’t hear, then Sonic probably can’t, either . . . 

That thought is enough motivation for him to slowly rise to his feet. He can’t see Sonic through all the smoke, so he tries to sniff him out to no avail. The excessive smoke is blocking his sense of smell, too. 

His heart skips a beat. He needs to find Sonic and get him out of the base before Eggman’s badniks launch their counterattack—without his additional senses to guide him, Sonic has no chance of defending himself. 

Tails stumbles around the room, calling out Sonic’s name as he climbs over rubble despite knowing the futility of communicating with sound right now. The chaos of the scene around him is making him desperate. He knows a single explosion isn’t enough to kill Sonic, but the pain in his skull is sharp enough to stunt his logical reasoning and he struggles to resist the anxiety trying to pull him towards his darkest thoughts. There’s always a chance, after all, that Eggman has already arrived with his badnik forces and Tails just can’t hear or smell where they’re fighting Sonic . . . 

Eventually, he finds the hedgehog on the other side of the room. A small army of badniks have entered through a recently-blasted hole in the wall. Sonic has not taken notice of them, back to the horde as he digs through a pile of rubble nearby. 

One of the buzz bombers is charging a shot. It makes the pain in his head spike almost unbearably, but Tails manages to spin his tails for a boost and tackle Sonic out of the way just before the beam could release from the bee’s stinger. The shot rang out beside them, making contact with the wall instead. 

Tails fell on top of Sonic during the tackle, so he quickly scrambles off and turns to face the badniks. They’re charging more shots, and it looks like the Motobugs are going to start moving any second. Tails has to get them out of here now. 

He looks back down, ready to pull Sonic to his feet, but stalls for a brief moment when he registers the look on Sonic’s face. There is no hard, bitter expression this time—he just looks terrified. His ears are pinned back against his head, and his eyes dart every which way in desperation to get a grasp on his surroundings. His quills are flared up in a way Tails has never seen before, sharp and poking in all directions to maximize their protective properties. In all their time together, he’s never once witnessed Sonic appear to openly vulnerable and helpless. 

He has no desire to prolong Sonic’s suffering. Tails pulls him to his feet, keeping a paw in Sonic’s own so they won’t lose each other. Then, as fast he can without using his tails, he leads them out of the base through the hole the badniks made in the wall. 

Tails refuses to stop until knows they aren’t being followed anymore. They stop next to a small stream, where they’re able to wash the soot out of their fur and rest until they’ve recovered enough to begin the trek back to the Tornado and head back to the workshop. 

It doesn’t take too long. A couple hours later, Sonic breaks the silence. “Okay, the ringing is gone. I can hear again.” 

Tails stares at him for a long time. Sonic squints a little while he looks back at him, and this action is enough to finally make Tails break his promise. 

“Sonic, I think you need glasses.”