#sonic sounding more and more concerned...

[fettiowi]

Sonadow fans when

[omega-e123]

!! NSFW !!

Suggestive. Blood mention.

AKA: Intro to very self indulgent rut fic. You have been warned

In A Rut..

Prologue (HERE!) || Restraint || Indulgence || Adoration

Odd behavior.

There Shadow goes again, walking off. He’s been acting strange lately. At first Shadow was practically clinging on to you.

Normally he doesn’t initiate physical contact, but at home he’s been snuggling into you, holding your body down so you can’t leave him. Attempting to part ways results a grumbly hedgehog.

The kisses don’t stop coming either. Knuckles every time you hold hands. Cheeks and forehead whenever he has to leave, no matter how short of an absence. Even if he’s going to be right back.

Jealousy has also become a big thing. Talking to anyone Shadow deems as a “threat”, he’s looming behind you, head on your shoulder and hands on your hips.

The worst it got was on a date at a bar. Shadow left momentarily to get you a drink. When he returned, someone was flirting you up. Enraged, the glass completely shattered in his hand. It sure scared off that guy. You had to bring attention to the shards in his hand, because he wasn’t concerned at all about it. Instead, Shadow slammed some money on the table and took your hand with the non injured one and left.

Next thing you knew, he’s been keeping distance from you. Both physically and shortening the time you two hung out.

He’s stopped initiating all together. Any advances you made Shadow wouldn’t turn down, but he would abruptly stop or attempt to keep it short. Started wearing a mask around you too.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Something is wrong with him. Your smell alone has started making his head spin. Every fiber of his being is drawn to you. Seeing you forces his quills to stand up on end.

Is this what a heart attack feels like? The pounding drum that is his heart is deafening. There’s no room to think. The only thing on his mind was you.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about you that way. Hell, it’s not like you two haven’t done the deed either; however, the intensity and frequency of these feelings have been cranked up to 100. It felt more primal.

The complete self restraint Shadow has to not pin you against the nearest wall, public or not, and shove his tongue down your throat is tearing him apart.

Such odd behavior was concerning. Swallowing every bit of ego and embarrassment, he turns to Rouge for answers.

Some help she was. That damn bat.

“Sorry, no can do. Sounds like a biological thing and not in the alien sense. I know you’ll hate to hear this but, try asking Sonic about it. You both are hedgehogs after all.”

“I think I would prefer skinning myself and be turned into a rug—“

She gives him a hard pat on the back, “Don’t say that. It wouldn’t be so bad~ I suppose you could ask Amy about it too… Or suffer! Your choice.”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

What’s worse? Confronting Amy or Sonic?

That blue little shit would never let him live it down. Sonic could implode from hysterical laughter if Shadow told him about these thoughts.

Amy… It’s simply too TMI. While she is understanding and more open, what if she didn’t know anything.

Shadow’s instincts pull him towards the former option. Unfortunately for the hedgehog, he was semi right.

Sonic took a good minute turned away from Shadow. His hand clasped over his mouth and the other holding his stomach. Sonic reeling in his laughter and forcing not a sound to come out.

“Nono! Sorry! It’s cute!”

“Cute?” Shadow’s eyes narrow.

Sonic waves his hand, as if he’s fanning the comment away. “Never mind. Sometimes I forget you’re bioengineered. What you’re going through is a rut.”

“This better not be some kind of joke.”

Hands in the air, feigning surrender. “I’m not. You’ve probably never experienced it before because you ain’t got bitches you never had a partner. It’s the one time a year hormones go crazy. Some other Mobians also experience it too, like deer.”

Shadow’s massages his temples, processing the new information. “You’re telling me, it’s a biological signal that it is time to breed.”

“Odd way to put it but yeah, basically. Lasts about two months. What you do with that information is up to you. G’luck buddy” he gives Shadow a thumbs up and runs off.

Two whole months. Only about two and a half weeks have passed and already Shadow can’t stop thinking about you splayed on his bed begging for his touch.

[mcrdvcks]

Call It What You Want

Summary: A single sneeze turns into something more, at least to your husband Logan.

Word Count: 1.9k+

Pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Notes: i'm feeling a bit sick and i remember i had written this a while ago so here it is :)

i actually have a few other ideas and short oneshots written in this universe so i might upload some more sporadically

(also thank you for 500 followers! really means a lot to me <3)

Warnings/tags: sickness (sneezing, stuffy nose), reader has powers (sonic screams), pet names (darlin', baby, sweetheart)

A simple sneeze. That’s how it started.

You and Logan were in your shared bedroom, both at your respective desks, grading papers in silence. The quiet was only interrupted by the occasional sound of paper rustling or the scratch of a pen. It was peaceful, really. Until you sneezed into your elbow, trying not to make a big deal of it.

Logan glanced over, raising an eyebrow but not saying anything at first. You grabbed a tissue and blew your nose, tossing it into the wastebasket nearby.

"That time of year again?" Logan asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet.

"Maybe," you replied, rubbing your nose. "’m fine."

He let out a low chuckle, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. “Yeah, ‘cause you always say you’re fine, then next thing I know you’re curled up under six blankets, complainin’ about not bein’ able to breathe.” He walked over, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"I’m not always like that," you protested, looking up at him with a small smile.

"Sure, princess." Logan smirked, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. “But if you’re gettin’ sick, you should rest. You work too hard.”

"I don’t have time to be sick." You glanced at the pile of essays that still needed grading. “Besides, these students aren’t going to grade themselves.”

"Bet you I could convince Chuck to get a telepath to grade these for ya," Logan teased, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Now, go lay down.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the warmth spreading through your chest at his concern. "Logan, I’m fine. It’s just a sneeze."

"Uh-huh," he grumbled. “Just a sneeze, until it ain’t.”

"I’ll be fine," you insisted. "Besides, you're not the boss of me."

Logan smirked again, his voice dropping to that low, gruff tone that always made your stomach flip. "Ain’t I though?"

You shot him a playful glare, knowing exactly where this was going. "No, you’re not."

He tilted his head, eyes twinkling with amusement. "Alright, darlin’… but if you start feelin’ worse, you better let me take care of ya. You hear?"

You smiled, unable to help it. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine, tough guy."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss before pulling back. "You better be. Ain’t in the mood to deal with a cranky version of you.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Like you’re never cranky.”

“I’m lovable,” he grunted, moving back to his desk. "You, on the other hand…”

“I’m adorable,” you finished for him, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

You turned back to your papers, feeling the slightest tickle in your nose again. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?" Logan repeated, eyeing you cautiously.

And then, you sneezed again—this time louder. The vibration from your powers caused a low hum in the room, the soundwaves vibrating through the air, making the picture frames on the wall tremble slightly.

Logan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "That didn’t sound like just a sneeze, baby."

You winced, looking around at the small vibrations that still lingered in the room. "Oops."

He sighed, walking back over to you. "Come on, Y/N, that’s your body tellin’ you to take a break." He bent down to your level, his face now inches from yours. "Or do I need to carry ya to bed?"

You bit your lip, trying to keep the smirk from your face. "You wouldn’t."

"Wanna test me?" Logan’s voice was low, full of challenge.

You tilted your head, pretending to think about it. "Well, when you put it that way…”

Without another word, Logan scooped you up from your chair, making you let out a surprised laugh. “Logan! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, carrying you toward the bed with ease. “You had your chance, sweetheart.”

You kicked your feet lightly in protest but didn’t really try to escape. Being wrapped up in his arms was hardly a punishment. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yup,” he agreed, laying you down gently on the bed and pulling the covers up over you. “Now, you’re gonna stay right here, and I’m gonna make sure you’re comfortable.”

You crossed your arms, but a smile was already spreading across your face. “You’re overreacting.”

“Am I?” Logan raised an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Remember the last time you got sick? You nearly took out half the mansion with your soundwaves ‘cause you were sneezin’ so much.”

You sighed, relenting. “Okay, maybe a little rest won’t hurt.”

Logan grinned, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Atta girl.”

You settled back into the pillows, the warmth of the blankets and Logan’s presence making you feel more relaxed. “Thanks, Logan,” you said softly.

He gave you a soft smile, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Anytime, darlin’. Now get some rest before you blow up the whole room.”

---

After days of trying to convince Logan, and the others, that it was just allergies, Logan had enough. He had dragged you to Jean after you finished teaching your first class of the day, and after accidentally shattering your computer screen with your sneeze.

Jean was already prepared, a bottle of cough syrup on a nearby medical table. “See? Told you it was a cold,” she said, holding up the bottle like it was proof.

You groaned, slumping in the chair next to her. “It’s just a little cold, Jean. You all act like I’m on my deathbed.”

Logan crossed his arms, standing behind you. “That little cold shattered a computer screen, Y/N. If it wasn’t for your powers, maybe we’d take your word for it, but—” He gestured vaguely with his hand. “We’ve seen what happens.”

Jean smirked at Logan’s comment but quickly turned her attention back to you. “He’s right, you know. We’ve got to be careful with your powers. Your body’s trying to rest, and that includes your control.”

You shot Logan a half-hearted glare. “You dragged me here for this?”

“Yup,” he replied, entirely unbothered. “And now that you’re here, Jean’s gonna make sure you actually take care of yourself.”

Jean held out the bottle of syrup. “Bottoms up.”

You stared at it like it was some sort of punishment. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Logan let out a chuckle, moving to stand beside you, his hand resting on your shoulder. “Come on, princess, just take the damn syrup. The faster you do, the faster we get back to our room.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you took the bottle from Jean’s hand and downed the syrup. The taste made you wince, and you immediately regretted it. “Ugh, that’s awful.”

Jean patted you on the back, her smile widening. “It’ll help, though. Now, you’ll need rest, fluids, and minimal stress. I don’t want to see you teaching for a couple of days, at least.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Logan cut you off before you could say anything. “You heard the doc, darlin’. No teaching, no grading. Just rest.”

You turned in your seat to look up at him, narrowing your eyes. “It’s just a cold. I’m not dyin’ or anything.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth tugging into a smirk. "Not dyin’, huh? Try tellin’ that to your computer screen."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in the chair with a groan. "That was an accident, and you know it."

"Doesn’t matter," he shot back, folding his arms across his chest. “Still proves my point.”

Jean chuckled from where she stood, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “Logan’s right, Y/N. Your body’s using up energy to fight this cold, and with your powers, that means less control. It’s not just about you—it's about keeping everyone around you safe.”

You narrowed your eyes at Logan. “You’re really milking this, aren’t you?”

Logan didn’t even try to hide the grin on his face. “Oh yeah. And I’ll keep doin’ it ‘til you get your stubborn ass to bed.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I hate when you’re right.”

He chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Get used to it, sweetheart. Happens more often than you’d like.”

Jean smiled warmly at the two of you, shaking her head. “Okay, lovebirds. I’ll give you some privacy while Y/N gets some rest. Logan, make sure she takes it easy.”

Logan nodded as Jean left the room, then turned back to you with a smug look. “So, no more arguments, right?”

You glared at him, but it lacked any real heat. “Fine. But just so you know, when I’m better, I’m gonna remind you of this moment. Payback’s a bitch, Logan.”

He chuckled again, unphased. “I’ll take my chances, darlin’.” Then, without warning, he bent down and scooped you up in his arms again.

"Logan!" You yelped, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Making sure you actually rest," he replied, his voice casual as if carrying you around was the most normal thing in the world. “Figured this way, there’s no chance of you sneakin’ back to your desk.”

You tried to fight back a smile, though it was nearly impossible when you were cradled against him like this. “I wasn’t gonna sneak back.”

“Sure, princess,” he said, clearly not believing you for a second. “But just in case.”

He carried you back to your shared bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed and pulling the covers over you. He gave you a stern look, but there was warmth behind his eyes. "Stay."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “You act like I’m a dog.”

"Not a dog,” Logan corrected, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Just a stubborn wife who doesn’t know when to quit."

You reached up to swat at his arm playfully. “I’m not that bad.”

He caught your hand in his, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You’re worse, but I still love ya.”

Your heart swelled at the soft look in his eyes, and for a moment, you forgot all about your cold. “I love you too,” you murmured.

Logan’s expression softened even further, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Now rest, sweetheart. You need it.”

You sighed, snuggling deeper into the blankets. “Only because you asked so nicely.”

Logan chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead once more. “I’ll take it.”

He stood up, moving toward the door, but you called after him. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

He stopped, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “What, miss me already?”

You rolled your eyes, but your tone softened. “Maybe. Just a little.”

Logan’s smirk turned into a genuine smile as he made his way back to the bed. “Alright, darlin’. I’ll stay.”

He kicked off his boots and slid into bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. For a moment, the cold, the shattered computer, and everything else melted away. All that mattered was the warmth of his embrace.

"You’re lucky I love you," you mumbled, already feeling yourself start to drift off.

Logan chuckled softly, his hand running through your hair. “Damn right, I am."

As sleep began to claim you, Logan’s steady presence beside you was the last thing you felt, a reminder that no matter how tough things got—or how stubborn you were—he’d always be there, ready to hold you close and make sure you were safe.

[apiptosis]

I still have no clue how Tumblr works but here's part 3

The third member to meet Danny is none other than our resident Demon brat.

It was rare that Damian could truly relax. In the league he had to constantly be the perfect heir, the perfect assassin. When his mother got him out it was just as hard when he had to compete with four adopted brothers, Gordon, Brown and the infamous Cassandra Cain.

It was difficult to find someone who could understand him and what he had been through and still put up with his bulshit. Damian was man enough to admit that his own attitude did not help him so when he found someone who would, whom he could let down his walls with, he grasped on with both hands.

"You seem to be thinking quite hard there Damian." A soft voice drew him from his thoughts. Damian looked her deep in her eyes freely let her peer at his thoughts. He knew she would not pry unless needed but he freely gave this.

"Just reminded myself how fortunate I was to have you." Damian admitted while they sat at their impromptu picnic.

It was rather rare for them to have dates in Gotham but today was a rare time where it was possible. The smog that always filled Gotham was almost completely absent today here in the forest at the edge of the Wayne property and perhaps most importantly, his father was off world with Cain and Grayson.

While most of the public believes Batman has a 'no metas allowed' rule, it was most certainly not true. What is true however is that his father is an overprotective idiot at times and would hover/spy onto their date.

"Dam-"

Whatever Raven was about to say was interrupted by a small sonic boom from just outside of the property that had both of them on their feet, their little picnic forgotten.

All too soon they found the source. A behemoth of a man was playing with a giant dog?

"Drop the stick boy!" The green beast dropped a log for want of a better word. "Good boy, wanna go again?" The beast gave a bark like artillery fire, tail waving like rotor blades. The man pick up the log and launched as though it was a javelin with a "Fetch Cujo!"

With one last artillery bark the beast bound after with great speed.

The man let out a deep sigh as he fell back into the shade of the nearby tree. "Man I wish I had more off days like this. Mhmmm, people? Hello there. Didn't think there would be people this far out. I'm Danny."

The man, Danny, waved as he lazily greeted them from where he lay on his bag in the shade. Danny lay so openly and without care that they could easily observe him.

Danny was very obviously a meta, his lazy smile with far too many sharp teeth, elfin ears and skin that was almost paler than Raven's. Most glaring was his height at seven and a half feet and shoulders nearly half as broad. (see Drake I can learn your freedom units)

"Damian" "Rachel" they introduced themselves.

"You two out on a date? It's one of my rare days off so I was planning one myself but unfortunately my girlfriend's dad needed help so she's out of town with him and her brother." Danny offered up freely. There was no hostile intent as far as Damian could tell. 'His intentions are true and there is no amniosity. His mind is well protected though.' Raven shared with telepathy.

"I take it your job is rather taxing?" Damian prodded.

Danny snorted "Nah man, I'm a university student, Aerospace engineering. The degree is kicking my ass but that's due to the amount of stuff I have to do. It's like they are afraid that I will have free time because I swear some of my projects and tests aren't for engineering.

Last week I had to write a chem exam and yesterday I had to submit a project that I'm pretty sure was a business model in disguise. If my luck holds out I might get a psych test next week. Ugh I'm already half dead, now their trying to get me to fully dead."

That was... concerning. It sounds like danny was possible rogue material and the university was trying their best to keep him from actually going rogue.

"So your taking a break and playing with you dog?" Raven asked.

"Yeah, Cujo is a sweetheart but it's hard to play with him here since people keep attacking him when he's in his large form." Danny explained as the dog bounded back without his stick. Worryingly there was a bit of blood on him. The dog had obviously been in a fight.

"Again buddy? Why can't they just leave you alone. Let's see what it's this time." Cujo dropped a finger on the ground with a very familiar green ring.

"He's a rescue I suppose but he was originally a guard dog and he was trained to disarm people when they attack him so I keep having to stash away guns and the like. With how crazy some people are I really should be prepared for things like this."

The ring seemed to sluggishly work it's way off of the finger before shooting straight for Danny.

"Daniel Fenton of -"Danny swiped the ring out of the air and held it in a tight grip. "Nah ah, I already have one green magic ring and I don't want a talking one on top of that!"

Danny rummaged through his bag before pulling out his thermos that smelled like coffee and chugged it like he was drakes long lost twin and managing to seal it into the thermos.

"There, I'll figure out what to do with that later."Sigh."well I guess we can talk at a later time but after that I'm heading home. Cujo shrink!"

The massive beast of a dog deflated like a balloon till it was the size of a small dog, happily trudging sfter it's owner as they hiked in the direction of Gotham.

With a glance to Raven, he confirmed that she was just as bewildered by the interaction as he was. Eventually they returned to their date, no use in letting odd encounters ruin their day, but Damian kept the name in the back of his head for now.

Later that night Damian found himself in the watchtower, going for the terminal so he could research this Daniel Fenton. He would have done this at home but Drake hogged the bat computer, nou doubt pinning after his coffee crush.

Along the way he found a small congregation of heroes trying to drown out Guy Gardner but also had to listen to his report as his hand was quite bandaged and missing a finger...

"On my patrol I nearly got Final destinationed by a flying log and then I got attacked by a green beast that wouldn't go down no matter what I thew at it. To make matters worse it was able to bite off my ring!" Guy complained incessantly.

Suddenly it made perfect sense why Danny was so upset but accepting of people attacking Cujo. How many times has this happened to him? How many times had the guy patched up his dogs wounds because people attacked him. How many of those time was it a hero who attacked Cujo? Damian could feel for both Danny and his dog.

"Sounds like you attacked a dog playing fetch and got upset when you couldn't hurt a dog for playing. Neutralizing an attacker's weapon is the bare basics of any guard dog's training." Damian found himself snapping at the man. Superman nodding along with him.

"Robin is right, while I am very concerned about you losing your ring, I am also concerned that you would attack a dog for playing fetch. I do the same with Crypto." Superman chastised Guy sternly.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Amy Rose, Blaze The Cat and Sonic (separate) X Reader in:

where the characters are in the other room doing whatever until they suddenly hear the reader in another room saying stuff that sounds rather suggestive, so when they come over to check what the heck is he doing, turns out he is doing something mundane and not doing anything suggestive despite how it sounds out of context.

A/n: I couldn't think of like a name to put for this

TW: SUGGESTIVE

Amy:

Amy was reading a magazine, she was at your house currently in your living room, you being just the room over. She enjoys your company, even if you two didnt even really interact, you being in the vicinity was enough for her.

"Bleh, why is it so hard?"

Amys ears perked up. What? No. Thats bad, she shouldnt assume things just by one small thing heard.

"Im surprised it got so big"

W h a t.

She didn't see you walk into your room with you, what was happening? Seriously what?? Maybe its a coincidence, maybe right? After all, who would do that while someown is iver. No one right?

"This is so hard, can I even like eat this?"

...

She sat horrified for a moment. Gross! Seriously? SERIOUSLY?? How dare you, WHILE, shes over nonetheless??

She took a firm grip on her hammer, flustered as her ears pinned to her head. She stood up, marching over to your door.

She reached for the handle, hesitating amoment before shaking off said hesitantions and grabbing the knob and swinging it open.

"now just WHAT is going on here-..."

You looked up at her, crouched down, bowl in hand and a rice spoon in the other. A rice cooker was sat tight infront of you.

"..."

"..."

Amy lowered her hammer, taking a deep breath, still recovering.

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

You looked down to the rice cooker than up at her a few times.

"Making rice... I uh.. Got a new rice cooke-"

"I can see that" Amy sighed as she put a hand to her head. "What was with all that stuff earlier?"

"Oh, well, i messed the rice up, didnt add enough water, and now its all hard, im surprised it managed to rise at all because of how hard it is."

"..."

"Amy... You.. Okay?"

"Forget it."

Blaze:

She was over at your house, it was rare she visited your dimension, but when she did, she always wished to make a pit stop at uour house, she enjoyed your company.

When she stopped at your house, you gave brewed her tea, after all, shes a princess, and uh, princesses like tea right? While the tea you served her wasnt nearly as high quality as the one she usually drinks, she appreciated the effort.

Really, you were a very enjoyable person to be around. When you finished giving her tea, you excused yourself somewhere else, she nodded, understanding. Currently she was reading a book, while taking sips of her cup here and there.

"Gh- so... Tight.."

Your voice cracked through the air, it was breathy and light.

Immediately her ears twitched as she paused mid sip, wide eyed.

She hadn't meant to eaves drop, but now she is concerned.

No. It couldn't possibly.

"I cant, get. It. Out."

...

Blaze sat up, beelining toward the room you were in, whirling around the corner to see what in the world you were up to.

She saw you with a remote and screwdriver attempting to unscrew it to no avail.

She stood in silence for a couple moments before you glanced up.

"Oh, hi blaze, i was just trying to switch these batteries, ao we could watch a movie"

Blaze was silent for a moment before extending her hand. "Give it to me, I'll do it"

"You sure? I mean, its like really in there-"

"Im sure"

Sonic:

You’re in your room, trying to set up something that, to your misfortune, had proven way more complicated than expected. It’s a lazy day at home, and Sonic’s taken up a spot on your couch, sprawling out like he owns the place. He’s flipping through channels on the TV, a little bored but content to just chill in your company.

It’s peaceful until you let out an exasperated groan from the other room.

"Theres too much of it..."

Sonic’s ears twitch, but he doesn’t move. It’s not unusual for you to talk to yourself, and he’s gotten used to tuning it out. "What are they even doing in there?" he mutters to himself, shaking his head.

A beat passes, and then he hears your voice again.

"Why is it so sticky?"

The remote slips from Sonic’s hand, clattering onto the floor. His eyes widen as his brain processes what he just heard. Okay, that sounded… not great. He leans forward slightly, his spines bristling.

Another moment of silence. Sonic tells himself not to jump to conclusions, but his curiosity is getting the better of him.

Then you add, "Ugh, it’s getting everywhere!"

Sonic bolts upright, his mind running a mile a minute. What the heck is going on in there? He rubs the back of his neck, trying to play it cool even though his face is heating up. Surely you wouldn’t be- no, there’s no way. Right? But still, those noises and your weird comments are enough to make him suspicious.

"Y/N?" he calls out, his voice a little higher-pitched than usual. XEverything okay in there?"

You don’t respond immediately, too focused on whatever you’re doing, and Sonic’s imagination starts to spiral. The possibilities bounce around in his head, none of them remotely innocent. It’s driving him nuts. Finally, he can’t take it anymore.

"Alright, I’m coming in!" he announces, standing and darting toward your room before you can protest.

He skids to a stop at your doorframe, blue blur coming to an abrupt halt as he takes in the scene.

There you are, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a jar of honey, large bowl, and other small jars and bottles close to you. A spoon was in your hand. There was honey all over the jar

You glance up at him, blinking in confusion at his sudden entrance. "Hey, Sonic. What’s up?"

Sonic just stares at you, his brain trying to catch up.

"...Honey?" he finally asks, his voice flat.

"Yeah." You hold up the sticky jar. "I was trying to make this skincare mask i saw inline, so i bought honey for it, but when i brought it here, i severely underestimated how stucky it is, its just getting on everything"

There’s a long pause. Sonic presses his palm to his forehead, dragging it down his face as he exhales loudly.

"Seriously, Y/N?" he groans. "You had me thinking- ugh, never mind. Forget it."

You tilt your head, utterly baffled. "Thinking what?"

"Nothing! Forget I said anything!"

[s-4pphics]

click!: in frame. 3 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 17.2k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, FLUFF????, angst, mentions of deceased family members, weed, sexual tension, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MDNI, they fuck a lot, fingering, pussy eating/face sitting, tribbing YAAY, slut shaming but consensual, fucking on camera, dirty talk mmm, STRAP SUCKING!!! SUCK MORE STRAPS!!, squirting, i think that’s it but i don’t remember tbh

A/N: omg finally….. heyyy idk when i’ll return to this fic tbh …. 😞😞 but i love them so much and i always will. fav couple imo… HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR THE LONG WAIT BYEEEEE LOL

Ellie’s trying her hardest not to panic. 

Her car is quiet, not a sound coming from either of you, ears comforted by the whistling winds and rustling trees… And Pickle’s quiet coos. She sits in your lap as your thumb caresses her head; Ellie’s can see how she looks up at you, eyes full of love. She's never going to stop reminding you of how much your kitty missed your presence.

Her mind races with unanswered questions, one of the main being why you haven’t said anything to her since the two of you left her father’s home. She yearns to hear your voice. 

She yearns for you… but you’re not yourself, at least from what she can remember. She can’t shake the curiosity that’s been pestering her since you’ve reconnected; What the hell happened to you while you were apart? The energy you brought to your formerly shared home was irreplaceable: your midnight rambles, your nerve-wracked pacing, your cheery laughter… Your laugh. She misses it terribly. It’s not the same. Nothing about you is. 

Ellie’s itching to ask, but her father’s statement blares red like a sonic in her mind. 

Did she tell you she’s in therapy?

You want to talk… You suggested it! Ellie’s tummy twists in anxious knots, hands tightly gripping the leather of the steering wheel. 

… What the hell happened to you? 

“We… we can sit anywhere.” Ellie whispers to you. 

She stands next to you by the front door while Pickle wanders around with her toy mouse between her teeth. You nod in acknowledgment but your gaze stays forward. Ellie peers downward when she hears subtle brushing of skin, catching glimpses of your thumbnail digging into your index finger. She grabs your hand to get you to stop. “Sit with me?” She asks gently, and you allow her to pull you towards the black cushions. You finally sit and she follows, keeping some space between you. Every bit of her attention is on you; She hopes it isn’t suffocating. 

“Your…” 

Ellie follows your gaze at your croak, inspecting the framed photo of young her and her parents at her high school graduation sitting proudly on the bookshelf. Your pupils are overcast in sorrow, and Ellie’s heart jerks painfully. 

“Your dad’s really nice.” You whisper. 

Ellie wasn’t expecting that, but she nods, “He… he really likes you. I know he was a little… standoffish, but he likes y—“

Her words are cut when two large tears dribble down your face like rain on glass. She scoots closer, brows furrowed in concern, one hand intertwining with yours while the other cups your wet cheek. “Talk to me, babe. What… what’s going on?” Ellie pushes as softly as she can. She doesn’t know how to help if you don’t say anything. 

“… Is it me? D-Did I do something?” She asks with a heavy heart, and you instantly shake your head. Your free hand comes up to land on top of hers, warmth radiating off your fingertips. 

“Y… Your dad’s r-really nice.” You exhale before releasing a choked sob. Ellie’s up in an instant, squatting in front of you as she tries to get you to calm down, telling you to breathe, to count, but you don’t. Ellie catches your weight as you fall against her, arms wrapping around you as she whispers comforts in your ears, blinking away her own tears. You’re holding her like she’s slipping from your fingers, each guttural sob synched with the squeezes on her shoulder. 

“Shhh, s’okay… S’gonna be okay.” 

Her whispers aren’t only for you. They’re for her, too. 

“Ellie…” 

“Yeah, babe?” Ellie’s lips brush against your forehead, and you sniffle. 

“… Ever been to therapy?” 

“Um… no?” She ponders with a huff at the ceiling, “I thought about it, but…” 

“It’s really hard,” Ellie’s heartbeat sounds like the beating rain outside, flowing into your ears like water on rocks, “Never do it. This shit sucks,” You snicker wetly. 

“… Noted,” She laughs softly and plants a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes shut when she whispers, “Wanna talk about it?” 

You nod into her neck as she rubs your back, “I just… I dunno where to start…” Your mind races, brain filled to capacity with every mistake you’ve made in the past year. 

“Just… say how you’ve been feeling,” She suggests. Her heartbeat seems louder… or is that yours? Your tears fall from your cheek and into her shirt. 

“I just… really miss my mom.” You say shakily. Ellie sighs from above and holds you tighter. 

“Me, too… it hits me out of nowhere sometimes,” She mutters, “We weren’t even… close like that, but it hurts…” 

“What happened?” 

“She died.” She says plainly. 

You snort, “N — not that! I mean why weren’t you guys close?” Ellie mumbles oh, fuck, sorry between hearty laughs and you smile. 

“I dunno… like, whenever I think back on good times, my dad’s always there. I never…” She pauses and your head rises to look at her face. She’s deep in thought, and you patiently wait for her to resurface. You brush the flyaways back from her face. 

“She just… wasn’t there…” She mumbles, “And when she was, we fought. All the time…” 

There’s so much more that she wants to say — you can see it in her eyes, how the trees in them brush with memory — but she chooses not to elaborate. She nervously fiddles with the charm of the necklace around your throat.

“My dad was like that.” You whisper back. 

“What happened?” 

You grin, “He died.” Ellie’s brows droop in confusion. 

“… I’m sorry?… ” 

“Don’t be. He ruined my life… Your dad’s really nice, by the way.” 

A small smile stretches across her face, “So I’ve been told.” Her fingers travel over your face, over your nose, “Wanna talk about him?” 

“… I think I should…” 

“Up to you,” She whispers and your chest nearly bursts, “I’m listening—“

Meow!

Ellie cranes her neck to look up at Pickle sitting on the arm of the couch, right above her head. “Sorry… we’re listening.” You giggle and pat Pick-Pick’s head before laying your head onto Ellie’s shoulder. Words escape before you can stop them. 

“I hit rock bottom when he died.” You breath wobbles, “Like, I thought I was there already when I dropped out but—“

“You dropped out?” 

Oh… You never told her. Fuck. You’re pitiful, “… Yeah…” 

“Why?” She asks, concerned. You cringe in embarrassment. 

“Just… I was sad. I couldn’t focus on anything. My grades were fucked, regardless, so.” You can practically hear the whirs in Ellie’s brain turning with a billion questions. You answer the most recurring. 

“No, it wasn’t because you moved out.” 

“… I’m sor—“

You sit up, “Don’t you dare. Stop.” 

The sadness in her eyes is evident, but she quiets. And then stands and bolts to her room like a fucking track star. 

“E — what the fuck! Ellie!”

You rush after her but she’s miles ahead, already chest to chest with you in her bedroom entryway…

Or chest to folder. 

No fucking way. 

“I — I owe you this.”

“Ellie—“

“Please.” She whispers, “I want you to see it.” 

After all this time. Her fucking portfolio. 

“It’s the most… important thing to me. I want you to see.” 

Her hand is gentle when it closes around yours and guides you to the couch. She simply sets the leather binder on your lap and kisses your cheek. 

“Consider it my therapy… or whatever.” She huffs. 

You laugh wetly. Why the fuck are you crying? 

Listening to her explain her passions to you was… an enlightening roller-coaster. She’s captured imagery that reflects her emotions in the most subtle, but brilliant of ways; there’s joy, there’s anger, there’s sadness, there’s loss. You two were a wailing mess when she dedicated an entire section honoring her mother. Her father. They have the most beautiful relationship. 

Romance was last. And it’s filled with you in red, right in front of that makeshift backdrop from your old apartment. You’re never gonna stop crying. 

There was a time where you couldn’t look at yourself no matter what you did, completely shrouded in self-hatred and neglect, but seeing these photos of you from another perspective, from Ellie’s perspective… 

You’re a wreck, but she holds you. Tells her how pretty you are. How happy she is to have you back. 

Your sobs are eventually tamed by her rubs on your back, the kisses on your forehead. She hasn’t said it, and neither have you, but you feel it. That electrifying pull that takes over whenever you are separated from each other. 

You wake up with a dead arm on Ellie’s couch… with Ellie’s arms around you. Your heart’s rhetorical legs are kicking its feet in the air with sparkles in its eyes. You attempt to adjust your position to alleviate the static in your hand, but Ellie’s arms squeeze around you with a grumbled whine. You hold back a snicker. 

“Ellie.” You whisper. “C’mon, babe, my arm’s asleep.” 

Another irritated whine. You laugh quietly and push your hips back to put some space between you. A bolt of electricity flies down your spine when a cold, stern hand latches onto your hip. 

“You know better. Stop.” 

Your brow arches curiously, “Whatchu gon’ do, Ms. Bott —“ You gasp, “Ellie, holy shit, are you a bottom?” 

“… We’re talking about this now?” She croaks, sleep cracking in her throat. 

“I’m curious! You’re great at it so I had to ask.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” 

You scoff, “Um, it’s a compliment. You take it like a G. Say thank you.” You push back again for emphasis. Another threatening squeeze on your hip. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hide a smile. She's so cute.

“I said stop. And I’m not a bottom.” 

“Okay, lemme paint the picture. Fuckin’ milf from the club asks you to slide some silicone in her ass for shits and gigs. You doin’ it or nah,” You snark and push back harder on her, “You squirted in my mouth six tim—“

A thundering smack rings through Ellie’s silent living room as pain ripples through your asscheek. “I’m not a bottom.” She says in your ear and you attempt to hide a shudder. 

“Light work, no reaction,” You groan and Ellie snickers, rubbing over the sizzling skin to soothe the ache. “You gotta strap?” 

“Do you ever stop talking.” She snaps in annoyance and lets you go. You take the opportunity to jump in her lap, suddenly full of energy. Her hands land on your hips to steady you. “I don’t have a fucking strap.” She mumbles, eyes full of your tits.

“I know that’s right, baby! Hashtag BringBackTribbing,” You laugh giddily. This is the most alive you’ve felt in a year, “I look good on top? Huh?” You ask, goofily squeezing your breasts over your shirt. You jiggle them for emphasis, and Ellie flushes. 

Ellie tries to hide a smile, “You’re—“

“Hot? Sexy? The best you’ve ever had?” You suggest playfully. 

“— Incredibly annoying.” 

“Annoyinglyyy sexy?” You hum, and Ellie’s eyes twinkle with adoration. You smile and grab her hands, lacing her fingers with yours. She squeezes gently before inspecting your fit. Her dad’s fit, moreso. You hope Mr. Miller doesn’t hate you for snagging his drip… again.

“Did you pack a bag?” She asks quietly. You shake your head, kissing her knuckles. She flushes. 

“We gotta get you some stuff… if you wanna stay a little longer?” 

Your jaw drops in excitement, “Are we… officially U-Haul lesbians?” 

“I didn’t say that—“

“Don’t have to,” Your voice lowers as you unravel your hands, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Wanna get me some trinkets to remember me by? Fucking…” You ponder, “Forget Me Nots or whatever?” You peck her ear, and her hands grab your ass. 

“T-That’s not what that means, you idiot.” Her back arches when your lips travel down her neck, “Are you in heat or something, what the fuck—“

“Mhm,” You grind down on her and she sighs, “been outta commission for a very… very long time.” You gasp like you’re dying, “Must… drink… life-blood—“

“Does tribbing —“ You move your hips faster, and whines escape you and Ellie, “aw, shit — fuck, cause chaffing?”

“Tryna find out?” You gasp when your clit catches on fabric. 

“Might fuckin’ be — fuck, like that —“ Ellie’s nails dig into your hips to help guide you on top of her, right where she needs you. The friction on your clit makes your thighs quiver. Ellie cranes her neck to connect your lips in a simmering kiss; your hands plant above her on the arm of the couch for leverage, pushing your hips down hard; She gets lost in it, no longer being able to keep up with your thirsty kisses as she whines for more. 

“Can’t fuckin’ — fuck — wait —“

You try to fight against her tight grip on your hips, but she’s forbidding, stern with her clutches. She pushes you up until there’s room to pull and kick her pants off, and you follow, tugging your shirt up and over your head before clumsily yanking your pants off, tossing the discarded fabric across the back of the couch. She’s upright when your lips reattach in a fiery kiss, tongues swirling messily against one another, releasing sighs into each other's mouths. 

Ellie’s hands are suddenly shy where they sit on your waist, unsure, silently pleading for guidance. You sightlessly grab her wrists and tug them up until they rest over your sports bra. She gasps in your mouth when your hands press down on top of hers so she can cup you, feeling your nipples rise underneath the fabric. You allow her hands to wander, squeezing at your chest and tweaking your nipples, body shuddering with every brush of cold fingertips against your skin. 

Heat pools in your underwear as she massages all over your skin; your chest, your thighs, the plush around your hips, anywhere she can reach, she’s on, icing your skin like snow. You’re shocked at how delicate her touch is despite the coarseness of her skin, the complete opposite of yours. You tore her apart the night prior, sunk as deeply as you could into her brain, her core, the concave of her spine; touched her from muscle memory. Almost instinctive, but she’s curious. Not controlling or domineering. She’s explorative and unfamiliarly soft, and you’re stunted, but the wettest you’ve ever been and she’s barely touched you. 

Her hands travel rise to pull your bra up, plush lips smacking against your collarbones as it's tossed to the floor. 

You’ve never not rushed to have sex; it’s always desperate and fast, but satiating for the time being. It does the job, gives you a boost of energy, gets you through the day until you’re craving it again. The dirtiness of it all… Ellie doesn’t feel like that. Dirty. 

Her hands feel like flowers against you, littering your formerly bruised skin with petals, orchids replacing the stood hairs on your neck and arms. The array of florals and green in her gaze are being passed onto you, and it’s making you lightheaded; it’s almost overwhelming. You’re torn between hiding from and searching for her. 

“Ellie…” 

She doesn’t answer, just traces your spine with her mouth on your neck. 

“E-Ellie…?” You’re unsure of what to say, but you need to know that she’s here with you. 

“Am I doing it right?” She hums against you, and your clit jumps in confirmation. She’s doing it too right and you need her closer. You nod and tug her bun out of her hair, fingers entangling with soft pili, strands softer than wool. 

“Lay down?” She’s not demanding… Your heart pulls at her tone. You pull away and keep your gaze down, at the wall, anywhere but hers until you're laying back on the couch, the cushions melding with your spine. Ellie’s mouth returns, dousing you in affections. She’s careful, each breath on your hips making you jerk. For the first time, your hands are stiff, frozen. You don’t know where to touch, so you keep them clenched by your face. 

“Good, baby?” She lures and you hum in approval. You’re not good. You’re about to start crying and your heart is fit to burst, to splatter and bleed tears all over her eggshell walls. You don’t know what to do. 

You feel wanted with every grab at your tits, how she inches your underwear down to litter kisses along the sensitive, each trail of her tongue littered with desire. Each breath you take tremors. 

I missed you so much, she keeps whispering against your skin, I missed you, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I left. You say it back, how sorrowful you were whenever she crossed your mind, how you craved her in the wee hours of the night for years, fiending to breathe her scent. Her smell is wafts of blooming roses, fresh rainfall, the sun rays peeking out from behind the clouds and dousing the streets in light. 

Your underwear is down in seconds, but she doesn’t rush; makes you wait for her touch. You beg her shamelessly, hips twitching with every peck on your thighs, leaving maroon and purple blemishes on your legs before inching up, up, up, until her breath hits your dew. Your thighs quake when she licks experimentally; one quick swipe between your folds has you gasping, nails piercing the skin of your palm. Another swift flick over your pulsing bud, and you’re whimpering, hips bucking. 

Look at me… Look at me, look at me, look at me, please… 

The desperation in her voice lifts you onto your elbows, neck arched downward until you’re met with her clammy forehead and soft eyes, patiently waiting for your instruction. You smirk down at her with a scoff.

“You’re cute,” You mumble huskily and her feet kick like a doll behind her, kissing your inner thighs. 

“Show me what to do?” she asks with doe-eyes, nibbling at the skin. 

“Gimme your hand,” she extends her arm to you and you hold her wrist, licking her middle finger like a kitten. Her thighs press together and you smile, tongue darting out to swirl around the tip before sucking it between your lips. She makes a pained noise against your flesh when you pull her digit into the plushness of your hollowed cheeks, pushing her fingers in until in cranes at the back of your wet muscle. Your throat closes when you gag and she lets up with a soft sorry. An uncontrollable giggle garbles around her finger at her dark cheeks and scared eyes. You release her with a wet pop!

“You good. Ready?” Her head bobs. 

“Hm…” You ponder, “Pussy is like… like an Xbox controller.” 

Ellie blinks. “… Okay.” 

You explain, “You really gotta feel around for the… buttons and whatever. You needa press them from the inside and… outside. At least for me… Everyone’s different—“

“I’m not fucking everyone, I’m fucking you.” She states with confidence, and wetness gushes out of you like a faucet. She eyes your cunt like a predator to a bleeding carcass, lips curling over her fangs at the flesh between your thighs. 

Your voice shakes, “J-Just sayin’… You just gotta touch me and I’ll tell you if it’s doing the job or not.” She nods and her gaze changes. It’s focused and raunchy when her thumb lands on your clit; she wastes no time, pressing deep, calculated circles over the throbbing button, drawing more wetness from between your walls. You eye her like a hawk, how she traps her lip between her teeth, how she stares at your pussy with unwavering devoutness; she replies to every last one of your moans with her own, like she can feel the pleasure she’s spoiling you with whipping deep in her tummy. 

Her caress picks up when your hips move on their own, bucking into her fingers, desperately seeking pleasure that you’ve abstained from for so long; it electrifies the pit of your gut, your jaw slackening when a curious finger inches down until it reaches your leaking entrance. 

Okay? She asks quietly, and you nod earnestly. Please, baby, please, you beseech, walls hugging around the tip of her finger. She’s slow as she stretches you, gasping at the feel of you choking her lone digit, her hips twisting down into the cushion of the couch for friction. Pride grows hot in your core whenever her thigh twitches, dragging her pussy against the couch at every ragged breath. 

You hold a hand up to show her when she asks for help, arching your finger like a hook, and she follows wordlessly. Your head drops onto the couch when she grazes past that ridge that makes you see stars. You feel her smirk on your clit before she takes it in her mouth. Your lips part over every curse squeaked at the ceiling; it’s too much too fast, it’s sensitive, you can’t breathe, but she’s taking it, hitting right where you need, pressing all your fucking… Xbox buttons—

Ellie’s fucking messy; she’s trying to replicate your efforts from last night: every spit-filled swirl of your tongue is now being thrown back onto you… in the best way. She’s a quick learner. Spit globs on your clit, mixes with the juices that build around your spasming hole while she whines like a bitch. Her mouth glistens in the darkness and your eyes cycle. 

Wanna fuck you so baaad, what the fuck, she whines to herself over your cresting moans, begging for another, begging for her to reach deeper inside you. You feel so good, you taste so good, holy fuckin’ Christ—

Every word on your clit sends vibrations up to your ribcage, right in your chest where your heart pounds for her. The couch dips with her quick movements before you feel her breath on your cheeks, smell yourself on her, fingers still nudged inside you. Your eyes flutter open and a smile stretches, “Hi.” You whisper. 

She smacks a wet kiss on your cheek, “Hi. Am I doing okay?” She twists her fingers against your nerves and you gasp, reply sharp. She hides her satisfied grin with another kiss on your cheek, and you can’t even snap how you want to. You’re desperate to tip, to reach that peak you’ve neglected for so long, begging her please, baby, make me cum, in her ear, seducing her until her fingers dig deep inside you again. 

You praise her between jumbled swears to the heavens, and she keens, whimpering into your neck when she feels how tight your walls get on her, pushing another finger past the tightness. You’re mine, It’s a promise and she groans into your neck, fucking you harder, You’re mine, you’re fuckin’ mine, m’gonnacum! Your tongue unravels like thread and you lose focus on everything except the girl on top of you; you feel the forbidden words resting on the edges of your teeth and ready to spill, the ones you swore to never speak again; but still, the unfiltered emotions rush through your blood as euphoria spills onto her hand, dripping down to the couch. 

E-El! Ffuuuck — oh, god I l — agh! 

Your orgasm splatters thick all over your inner thighs, coating her fingers in white as she works you; you feel her smiling even as your brain wracks, she likes this… Maybe she’s not a fucking bottom. Your ears ring while a speckle of drool dribbles from your chin; she licks it up before kissing you, moans trading between both your mouths, your taste coating your tongue. It’s not until her thumb traces your clit again that your legs slam shut on her. She snickers darkly into the kiss and fights against the muscles in your legs. 

I’m not fuckin’ done, gimme this pussy, she grits over your protests; tries to nudge her fingers even deeper inside you, but she’s struggling; you’re winded up so tight. How are you still cumming this fucking hard? You grab her wrist as tight as you can, and she scoffs, letting up. 

“Fine. Meanie.” One last press to your mouth and she’s up, sitting on her knees while you whither, trying to fucking recover whatever strength you preserved… None.

You muffle into the pillow, “Ellie, what the fuck—“

Your slurs are cut with concern, a gentle hand on your thigh. For the first time, she’s not freezing, “Wait, are you okay? I though—“

You send her a shaky thumbs up, “I’m good, baby, just… fuck—“

“Oh, okay…” A moment of pause, “Can we scissor now?” 

“Can I fucking breathe!”

“You can breathe after! C’mon, U-Haul lesbian!” She pats your ass excitedly. 

“After Hot Topic. I need shirts.” 

“Nuh uh,” A kiss against your knee… up to your thigh, on your waist. “Wan’nit now.” 

“Unhand me, hooligan — ow!” You squeak when teeth sink into your side. Ellie sighs in dissatisfaction, but she lets you go. 

With one last wet kiss on your cheek, of course. 

Hot Topic has lost their entire mind. $15 for a ring set? You almost convinced Ellie to steal them but she said getting caught wasn’t worth it. 

She did buy two new Spidey-man shirts, though… For a whopping $45. Geek. Bring. Back. Stealing. 

After ranting about price spikes to the cashier, you and Ellie barely make it three skips down the strip before your eyes catch a glowing, maroon sign. You yank Ellie back before she can continue down, a villainous smirk glued to your face. 

“Oh, Ellliiieee,” you sing.

She spins, “Hm?” Your lower lips traps between your teeth, an arm holding her tight against you. She stiffens at your hushed proposal, fingers clenching around your hand. 

“You ever been to 9M Sex?” 

You hear her swallow before a shuddering exhale. 

“That’s not very subtle, is it?” She mumbles and you cackle. 

“So… what do you think?” You say, voice laced with seduction. 

Ellie refuses to make eye contact. She’ll die and rot if she does; her corpse will be infested with grime and maggots in the next twenty-seconds. She won’t look at you… or the twenty-inch, plastic-wrapped dildo held between your legs. 

She burns where she stands; how is the carpet not sizzling into flames from beneath her? 

“… I dunno.” Ellie mutters; She does know. Knows that you’ve been testing her since you stepped foot into this demonic space. You’re a succubus with violent intentions with every grip on her waist, every whimsy confession you throw in her direction after eyeing the lecherous items on display. 

I wanna use that on you… You whisper when you pass every vibrator imaginable, You’d look so cute in this, baby… as you point at a fucking maid costume, I wish I could touch you right here… 

It’s embarrassing how badly she wants you to. It wouldn’t take much convincing to lure her behind one of these lingerie racks and pull her underwear to the side with your tongue down her throat… again, she swears it. One more salacious twinkle from those brown eyes, and she’s all yours, whenever, wherever. Anyway you want her until you’re satiated. The rush you give her is intoxicating. 

“Oh, c’mon! It’s fuckin’ funny! How the fuck would this fit in somebody!”

“I’m sure they’d make it work,” Ellie cringes at how high her voice sounds. What the fuck is she, twelve? Closeted all over again? 

You throw the… cock over your shoulder like deadweight, and Ellie blushes. She’s oddly endeared at your shamelessness; It’s very reminiscent of when you two first met… Why does that feel like a lifetime ago?

Light is beaming off you, and Ellie can’t get enough. This is the happiest she’s seen you since you’ve reconnected; you’re goofy and loud and full of color, completely unapologetic… Is it wrong to say that she’s envious? She’s never met a person so… secure. The store is nearly empty, but she can’t help but think that you’d act the exact same if it were stacked to the ceiling with people, parading around with your fluffy handcuffs and cat ears to match with a smile that glows for miles. 

Ellie would give anything to have that… The ability to dismiss conformity. Leaving her home is still a journey for her. She’s forced out of her own thoughts by your gasp, “Ellie… oh my fucking god…” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“… Turn around right now.” She follows your line of vision and nearly passes out... There’s absolutely no fucking way. An eggplant… but silicone… With an adjustable strap? No fucking subtly. Ellie can hear the rusty, unoiled, screws in your brain churning, conjuring up something absolutely disgusting… Her spine tingles. 

“Babe…” 

“Y’know we’re buyin’ that, right?” Your lips are at the shell of her ear, voice alluring. “I refuse to leave without it.” 

Ellie gawks at that phallic vegetable; Why is it so fucking big? “I’m not having that shit on my card history.” 

“C’mon, suga mama. Get us somethin’ special…” Her spine quakes at your purr, “Don’t you wanna fuck me… Ms. Bottom?” She can hear the smile, and her teeth grit so tight, bound to snap. 

Ellie whips around with a snippy voice, “I’m not a fuckin’ — “ Her eyes travel to ensure your seclusion, “I’m not a bottom. I told you that—“

Your hands cover your ears, “Blah, blah, blah! Lalalala—“

“You’re pissing me off—“

“Get that eggplant and show me how much.” You’re sinful with the low airiness of your tone. “I’ll do whatever you want.” 

“Liar.” Her entire body gusts into flames. You pout and shake your head, “I mean it! Take care of me with the best root vegetable, mama.” 

“You’re insane…” 

Your brow arches, “Maybe so. I’ll make sure to use a coupon. Ain’t nothin’ like 40% off a nut.” You waltz past her without a care in the world, throwing all your supplies on the counter like they’re groceries. Even threw the cashier the sweetest wonderful weather we’re having, ain’t it!

Ellie swiped her card with her eyes glued to the floor, shoving the receipt that read have a sex-filled day! to the bottom of the bag. 

The air in Ellie’s home feels heavy. 

Your eyes are locked onto her. Her back is to you where she squats on the floor, refilling Pickle’s food bowl with salmon pâte while you rest on her sofa. She can feel the intensity of your gaze through her jacket; it scorches her bones and leaves cracks in the marrow wherever they travel, goosebumps rising on her skin. 

Neither of you have said much since returning home — particularly due to Ellie being intimidated by your sudden calmness. The energy you’re radiating has flipped completely, and it’s only been an hour; The second you picked up your sex shop bag from the service counter and climbed into the passenger seat, you went docile, zoned in on every movement she made with floaty pupils. She’s still shocked you didn’t start undressing in the car. 

Ellie gives Pickle one last kiss before standing, cringing at the pops from her knees. You’re sitting on the crack of the cushions with your legs crossed, hands politely folded and resting on the point of your knee. Your eyes remind her of clouds, plush and delicate. 

“What.” She rasps. You merely shake your head, “I can’t look?” You ask, eyes glossing. Hers match, crystallizing like diamonds in the dirt, “Do what you want. I’m gonna shower.” Ellie’s legs move with the pounding in her chest, halting when you say

“I’m coming with you.” 

“That’s fine,” She rushes. It’s not fine. Her body’s going to give out. It almost does when you frolic past her, the carve in your now bare back on full display, discarded Hot Topic shirt in hand when you push the bathroom door open. 

She follows like a dog. A wolf. She’s so fucking hungry. 

Steaming water beats down on both of you like rainfall as your mouths meld together, swallowing every sigh, every desperate whimper. But still, your arms stay pinned behind your back. Ellie’s tried everything: sucked at your throat, gripped your ass in her palms, licked up your neck, but you won’t fucking touch her. She’s dripping for you, aching for your hands to caress her; she thought pressing herself tight against your body would finally get you to crack, but you’re stone. Tough as brick. Completely unreceptive. 

She knows what you’re doing… You know what you’re doing, and your attitude is driving her up a wall. Your ego’s fucking huge, that’s for sure.

All this over Ellie enjoying bottoming; She’s not a fucking bottom, she likes to bottom, to be taken care of; there’s a difference. It’s not her fault you’ve perfected your craft; Your touch is addictive; every nerve underneath her skin vibrates whenever you glance in her direction, let alone touch her. 

When your lips reconnect, it’s harsh. Ellie’s bothered to say the least, and you try not to smile. Your giddy laughter is swallowed by her when she traps you against the cold, wet wall, your back barely arching away from it before she holds you down, attacks your neck with precision. Your thighs squeeze together with each suction on your skin, hips pushing down onto the thigh that’s pressed tight between yours. 

“I fuckin’ hate you—“ She spits in your ear. Your grin is pageant-ready. 

“Doesn’t look like it, bottom—“

A heavy, veiny hand cracks on your thigh, and you squeak, “Just admit it! It’s not a bad thing—” 

“I know it’s not. I’m not that, though.” 

“Okay, baby.” 

“Shut up. Turn around.” You teasingly kiss her chin before twirling like you’re on ice, cheek smashed against the wall and ass sticking out for her, wrists bound by an invisible string at the end of your spine.  

“I got some waterproof stuff—“

Be quiet, She snarls like you did on night one, and you’re silent. Ellie sucks the skin right under your ear and your leg kicks out slightly. Her curious fingers slip between your legs and are instantly coated in silk. Your weightless head falls onto her shoulder, sighing like an angel at the gentle flicks on your clit. Yeah? She whispers when you groan her name out, chest and ears beet red. 

Yeah, baby, fuck, you treat me so good, You mumble back and she inhales deeply, walls jerking, Such a s-sweetie pie, The noise she makes in your ear is very reminiscent of a wounded animal, nasal and high. Her working wrist gets sloppy seconds after, and your jaw slacks. She’s rushing, eager for you to cum, to make her dirty all over again. 

Ellie loves how deep your voice gets when you fuck; dry and thick and melts her like butter, makes her dizzy. She would beg you to talk back if she wasn’t on this fucking power trip; she wants you to shake under her. Humble you a bit. Y-Yeah? She croaks. 

Ellie’s blanking; She’d planned to say so much when you pulled her into the muggy space by the chain around her neck, but she can’t fucking think. You smell so fucking good and your skin is soft as cotton. 

F-Fuck yes, oh f — uck —

A nasty grin grows on Ellie’s face when your legs start to wobble, hips arching off hers to get her fingers closer to your pussy. 

Uh huh, She hums, squeezing your wrist in her stagnant hand and forcing it around until it rests over your pussy, hold it open for me. Your hips buck back harsher than she anticipates; Ellie barely catches herself, forced to hold you up, trapped completely between her and the wall, fingers attacking your well-exposed clit. Her tongue swirls on your neck as you ride her hand; She wishes she could see your face properly, take in the way your lashes flutter right before your peak crashes into you, how the brown in your eyes cascade into darkness, full of lust. 

It’s her favorite part; how your moans pitch as your walls squeeze in one tight pull. They spasm in harsh twitches as your clit jounces; Ellie feasts on every single quivery alert of your orgasm, boasts in silence after each exclamation of Ellie, Ellie, oh, fuck!

She’s officially made you cum twice. Four more out of you, and you're fair game. Her stomach twists as she holds you down; You’re so loud and she loves it, that satisfied twinge in your voice at its peak. Ellie’s arm is tight around your waist; There’s so much pressure where she whisks your clit, lips closing around her two fingers. 

A tight hand closes around her wrist when you beg her to stop, Okay, babe, fuck fuuu— ah! —

But she doesn’t let up; rubs you faster, spits nastily in your ear, Say you’re sorry, she gravels onto your cheek, Make it good, too. 

Ca — El — uhhh! —

Yeah? Want some more? Tell Ellie how sorry you are. 

Fuckfuckfuck — I-I’m — Oh god, I’m sorryI’msorrybaby—

Ellie feels merciful and drops her hand, and you go lax against her. She’s forced to smash her body against yours so you don’t drop to the floor. She lets you ride out your aftershocks, the last bits of cloud nine, lips pressing into your shoulder. 

Your panting eventually slows, “Ellie…” 

“Hm.” 

“I hope you know…” you scratch, “… that I’m boutta fuck the living shit outta you.” 

She kisses your shoulder before scoffing with an arched brow. 

“Okay.”

Ellie’s choices in room décor never fail to amaze you. She’s so endearing. 

Her adult room seems much more lived in; some clothes scattered on the floor and slung over her black love seat, laundry baskets, open drawers with neatly folded clothes… so many mirrors. There’s one by her nightstand, two small, circular ones stood on her dresser, two full-body ones by her window. You can see yourself in every direction you turn. Her walls are made with black brick and littered with green and yellow fairy lights, draped decorative leaves surrounding her Spider-Man(Toby McGuire and Miles Morales) tapestries. Multiple black, furry rugs cover the floor. And the posters… Bless her heart. You’ve never seen so many constellations and planets on one wall, let alone four. Her bed is so messy, though. Her poor stuffies are face-down. It’s a crime how fucking adorable she is; Your heart is jumping for joy. 

“You don’t make your bed?” You ask slyly. 

She pauses her towel-wrapping, “… For what.” 

“Um, for tidiness. Aesthetic, if you will.”  

She blinks at you, “That’s dumb as fuck. You’re gonna lay in it anyway. I want a kiss.” She walks towards you and steals one… and another, and another until you’re both smiling. Your arms interlace around the back of her neck. 

“Make your bed or I’m snitchin.” Your whisper is followed by a peck. 

“Snitchin’ to who?” 

“P-Papa Miller.” 

“Don’t talk about him when I’m horny.” 

She unravels your towel and lets it drop to the floor, “S… Sorry.” 

“You’re not forgiven. Lay down.” 

You sit on her bed like a cat scoping the scenery, “Or what? Gonna hit me? In my face?” You purr. 

She rests her hands on your knees, bending her spine to kiss you, “Maybe.” 

“No balls.”

She smiles and smooches your nose, “You’re right. I would never.” 

“What if I want you to.” 

She scoffs and stands upright, “I’m not… fucking hitting you—“

“What if I ask politely…” You deepen your voice mockingly, and she shudders, “Oh, Ellie Williams, my dearest flower, may you do me the honor of bruisin’ my cheek with an affectionate handprint?” 

“Dude—“

“You don’t have to… but if you wanna, I’m not opposed.” You fall back onto your arched elbows, knees pulled high in the air. Ellie’s stare is disgustingly enticing as her eyes travel from yours, all the way down to your calves, but she makes no moves. You love how patient she is. 

“Your hands are so fuckin’ nice.” 

She snorts and looks down at them, squeezing a tight fist and inspecting the blue-green veins. “They are? They don’t feel dry?” 

“I love how cracked they are. Scratch me up, papí.” 

Ellie’s nose turns up as her ears glow, feigning disgust, “Shut up.” 

You smirk and your thighs separate, inch by inch, gooey lines of slick snapping when your pussy’s on display, “Make me.” She swallows. Ellie decides her hair has dried enough, shaking the towel from her head and crawling on top of you in seconds. Her mouth mushes against yours; Her aggression is so delicate. Her lips stroke yours until they dust your cheeks, down to your temples. You eye the neon glow-in-the-dark stickers on her ceiling, “Gonna fuck me under the moon, space ranger?” She licks over your mumbles, nibbling at your lips. “M-Maybe…” 

“Havin’ second thoughts, bottom?” You poke and her jaw tenses.

“Put your fuckin’ leg up.” 

You oblige, flattening the other so she can straddle your lax thigh, “Goin’ back to our roots, I see. Traditional lesbianism.” You sigh when her dripping pussy hovers over yours. Ellie has the prettiest cunt; You’ve told her probably a thousand times, now, but fuck, it’s perfect: soft strands of hair submerged in slick, plush lips surrounding her red clit. Your pussy flutters like she’s crushing whenever Ellie finds her balance on top. She fits her shoulder in the arch of your calf, and you’re patient, dragging a light fingertip around her areola. Her tongue wets her lips before she closes the space between your pussies. The muscles in your thighs clench at your intertwined warmth. 

Ellie holds your gaze, forest shiny with arousal with a hand gripping your raised thigh. 

“Send me to the stars, space ranger.” 

She chokes a laugh before kissing your ankle, “You’re cute.” 

“No, you,” you cheese. Her smile matches yours before she experiments, finds comfortable seating on your lap before her hips grind forward, just barely. Her maneuvers are shy, a bit unsteady, but she’s entrancing; Ellie’s face is perfect… Have you ever told her how beautiful she is? 

A trembling whisper from her, Why’re you looking at me like that? shows that you haven’t, not nearly enough, at least. Astonishment settles in your vision; You’re stunned to silence by her. Breaths leave ragged through your nose, eyes trailing over every inch of her face; the curvature of her nose, every pore, every scratch and scar. She’s an image, a neglected picture that deserves all notoriety. To be hung in ancient museums; A modern Mona Lisa. 

Ellie… 

Mhm? 

I really like you… 

She’s motivated, hips pushing forward and back, pressing down, as tight as she can get the gap. H-How much? 

Too much, and it’s a fact. A terrifying one that you can’t ignore. She moans in response and holds the hand that rests on her hip as she rides you, the cup of her breasts jumping, the remainder of shower water mixing with fresh bubbles of sweat in between the valley, glistening under the last bits of sunset. Tell me, tell me, she begs and moves faster, and your heart rate skyrockets, from nerves, from… 

You're perfect, y-you’re so— Her mattress springs wheeze under the sudden pace of her thrusts. Your whimpers seem to drive her, I missed you so much. You’ll never fail to remind her; shame on you if she ever forgets. Wetness squelches between your bodies, the friction sparking the wires in your spleen, back arching with every catch of her clit on yours. 

Stay with m-me, Her voice breaks, and your hand is numb from how hard she grips it, Don’t… don’t go… I like when you’re close to me… Your eyes attempt to close, but you can’t allow it. You drink in every inch of her, and you burn warmer when she does the same, always returning to your eyes before beginning again. 

You’re gonna make me cum, She gasps brokenly, disappointed. You’re begging now, for every drop she has. You want all of it; the claws that sink into her are desperate when her head falls back, her nipples tighten, her pleasure racking off the walls. Your hips buck into hers and she squeals, tries her hardest to keep her balance, but she’s cracking. You feel her throbbing, can almost make out her heart pounding over yours; she’s warning you, she’s right there, and the incoming destruction is evident in her voice. 

Her cry is long and drawn as her clit beats, blush burning in her cheeks as she scrapes at your skin, pulls at your fingers to center as she transports to euphoria. Tears jerk in your eyes when you hear her confession, heart shattering in your chest as darkness takes over you; it’s disgraceful how you’re silent as she lays everything out for you to take. You cry in silence as she rides out everything she deserves. 

I love you… Don't leave me… I love you, baby, I-I love you… 

Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… 

You count how many seconds it takes for Ellie to breathe. She’s sound asleep with her back to your chest, her arms outstretched in front of her. Your arm rests over her hip as you welcome every waft of her citrus shampoo. It’s doing wonders pausing your incoming breakdown. You’re so, so sick. 

I love you… Don’t leave me… 

It replays in your mind against your will. Over and over, it bounces around your skull until your temples pound. You’re not sure what’s more nauseating: the word she used or that she meant it. You could see it in her eyes, promises of adherence, careless and unbound yearning and devotion. You’re to blame, though. You practically pulled it out of her after your own declaration; I really like you… What an idiot. 

You admire her in every possible way. Her bravery, in particular. 

You don’t deserve to be in her presence, but still, you rob her of time. She showers without you present, and you desperately wait for return so you can hold her again. She’s scared that you’ll leave her when it should be the other way around; It’s been your only fear: her realizing that she deserves everything you aren’t. Someone happy, pure-hearted, successful, just like she is. 

Whatever attracts her to you must be an unimaginable pity. How could she love someone as manipulative and slimy as you? It’s unfathomable. 

And yet, you still lay next to her, under her stars. 

You separate from her as slyly as you can to sit on the edge of her bed, palms digging into your eyes before purring erupts from behind you. You feel nuzzles against your back and you snicker; Pickle’s a vessel of comfort. She never fails to appear when you're in dire need. She’s beckoned over with soft clicks of your tongue, taking refuge on your lap and licking at your thigh. Your lips mash against her little head, peppering kiss after kiss until leaps onto the floor, exiting the room and moving down the hall. You use kit-kat as an escape even if your heart aches to be near Ellie. 

The journey to her living room is slow due to you examining the framed pictures on the wall. Some are photos of just her, while others are her and other nameless people you don’t recognize, all smiling wide. She’s being hugged and kissed on her cheek by presumed friends — maybe family — all while holding the camera in her shaky hands, thanks to the blurred image. There’s photos of her on vacation, on beaches, photos of fireworks and birthday cakes, and so many photos of her father. 

There’s so much light in this hallway, even in void night, and she’s in the center of it. You can’t stop crying. 

Your body drags to the couch to retrieve your discarded backpack, digging for your phone. You haven’t touched it since you’ve been here, and you’re shocked to see that it’s still charged. The influx of missed calls frightens you; they’re all from work. You rush to listen to your last voicemail. 

“Hey, sweetheart! It’s Professor Meyers! Professor Rosnon’s been trying to get in contact with you, so I thought I’d reach out, as well. We’ve got an amazing offer for you if you’re interested! It’s too much to describe on the phone, so I hope we can meet up in person very soon and discuss the details. Get back to me as soon as you can. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, buh-bye!” 

That was yesterday morning. Fuck your life. 

Your sketchbook stares back with impertinence as your tears dry; It’s been months and still nothing from your imagination has transferred onto paper. Why do you continue to disappoint yourself, staring at a blank page with your pen in hand? 

“H-Hey.” 

You don’t react to Ellie’s call, just continue to tap your pen on the edge of your book. You can’t stop thinking about her hands. She appears from behind the couch wrapped in her Princess Bubblegum blanket, scratching at her nose. 

“I was cold…” She mutters with a soft laugh, “How do you stay so warm?” You merely shrug, tongue tied in indestructible knots. 

“Can I sit?” Your head jerks and she’s next to you in seconds, kissing your cheek, then your shoulder.

“What’s the matter, baby?” She whispers against your skin, and you sigh. 

“Just girly things,” You chuckle darkly before bluntly asking, “Are you mad at me?” 

“No — what?” Her voice is as delicate as rose petals, “Why would I be mad?” 

“I didn’t say it back.” You say. 

“… Say what back.” 

“You told me you loved me and I didn’t say it back. I didn’t… say it. I dunno why I didn’t!” 

She stares incredulously, “It’s… That’s fine—“

Your book goes flying into the cushion before you stand, “Ellie, it’s not fuckin’ fine! None of this is fine! I don’t know if it’ll ever be fine! I’m not… I’m not fine.” You exasperate, “Am I… I can’t stop… overthinking everything! I wanna make…” You sob and pace. 

“I want you happy. You deserve… aaalll the good shit that life has to offer!” Your arms flail, “You’re so… I can’t fucking think when you look at me! All my brain cells fucking explode and I never wanna look away! I just wanna sit and stare at your fucking face all day long! Fuck working, fuck a mortgage, fuck — fuck everything! Life is fuckin’ dumb and pointless if your not in the center of it! I’m so—“ 

“I love you.” She whispers, water in her eyes. 

“I can’t… accept that—“

“Me loving you?” 

“Yes! Well… no—“

“So you want me to love you?” 

“Ellie, please, I can’t fuckin’… breathe—“

“Yes, you can. And I’m so in love with you,” She says with certainty, and somehow, your brain convinces you that it’s conniving. “I was in love when I left… and I’m still in love now. You make me so… excited about life.” She continues mutedly, “If you don’t… wanna stay, I understand. But I had to tell you anyway.” 

“I…” You wail with knuckles in your eyes, “I love you so much…” Ellie’s sighs in relief at your cry. She chuckles wetly before you feel her arms around you, “You’re such a fuckin’ lesbian, it’s actually hilarious.” 

“Fuck off!” You holler into her shoulder, “This is your fault! Why are you so perfect! Fucking… fucking bitch—“

“Say you love me again,” she pleads into your sweatshirt, and you repeat it like a prayer. I love you, I love you, I love you so much! Ellie rocks back and forth where you stand, a delicate, scratchy hand rubbing your back under the cloth. 

You're back in Ellie’s room. Your pen is moving. On paper. 

When Ellie ushered you to bring your sketchbook to bed, you couldn’t stop laughing; continuously questioned your ability, trying to convince her how pointless that would be, but that gentle encouragement in her gaze got you here: on another blank fucking page with an exhausted pen. You hate lesbians. 

The lines on the sheet are subtle, gently grazed across white with little focus; The image isn’t super descriptive, but it’s shapely. It looks like… something; That’s all you need right now. Ellie’s watching curiously, eyes flickering between your busy hand and the slowly filling sheet. 

“Pretty.” She says. 

You snort, “It’s literally a blob.” 

“To you. Art is subjective.” Your eyes roll before they land on Pickle resting on Ellie’s throw pillow. “What, you hate it, too?” 

“Don’t do that! She loves it!” 

“Look at her eyes! Nothin’ but homophobia!” Ellie nudges your knee with hers in disapproval, and Pickle blinks. 

“Be quiet. Keep doing that.” She nods down at your paper, and you smirk. “Yeah, baby? Like when I do that?” You hold her faltering stare and scribble blindly, “It’s gettin’ you there?” 

Her cheeks grow plump and shine, almost reaching her eyes, “Stop… or no more kisses.” 

Your jaw slacks, “You wouldn’t dare!” 

“I would! C’mon, finish for me — “ Your body crashes with laughter at the innuendo, and Ellie cringes. 

“Can you focus for two seconds!” She scolds between your cackles. 

“I’m so — sorry, it’s just too good, holy fuck—“

“It wasn’t that funny.” She says blankly. 

“To you! Comedy’s subjecti—“ 

Ellie holds you down by your hips before jumping into your lap, glare sizzling past your teary eyes. 

“Oooh, la la, quite the dejavu moment.” You snicker up at her, book and pen forgotten. 

“Am I a joke to you?” 

Your brow curves scoffingly, “Might be. And what about it?” 

“I think you needa break.” 

“Word?” You toss your pen and book with the quickness, “What we doin’, space ranger?” 

“You’re not doing anything. I’m gonna ride your cock.” 

Your eyes turn to globes as she undresses herself above you, throwing her tee and maneuvering so she can kick her underwear over the bed, only clad in her fuzzy Saturn socks. 

“Where’s the bag.” 

“… O-Over there,” You point where you threw it mindlessly after your couch escapades, and Ellie’s up to retrieve it. You eye the dip of her back and gawk at her fucking ass when she bends over to rummage through the bag. “Are… are you serious right now?” 

“Yup. Take your clothes off.” She calls back plainly. 

“… Alright.” You unclothe into your boyshorts in stunned silence. Since when is she this bold? She returns with full hands: cotton candy flavored lube, a small bullet, and the longest fucking eggplant you’ve ever seen in your lifetime. She throws them onto the mattress carelessly with a shrug, “I think you need some inspo. Am I the best girlfriend?” 

Your heart jerks in your chest, veins reaching out for her “… ‘Course, baby… shit.” 

Ellie holds up the strap by the leg adjustment, “I’m sure you know how to put this on.” She throws it into your lap before popping open the baby blue lubricant. Your face burns when you swing your legs over the bed to pull the harness up your legs. You can hear her giggling as the aubergine jumps up and down above your pussy. She offers to help and you instruct her through tightening the bands until they fit snug around your hips and thighs. 

Your brain’s in overdrive; the curved girth of the silicone builds arousal in your underwear, envisioning Ellie’s plush walls stretching and pulsing around the purple length, her creamy silk building around the perimeter of the green tip at the base. Your clit leaps beneath the fabric. 

“Are you… You want some head? Like… before this?” Your fingers point at the eggplant. Ellie shakes her head with the bullet in hand. 

“Just lay down.” 

“Ellie—“

Her hands clasp your steaming cheeks, her lips brushing against yours when she murmurs, shhh… take good care of me? Your heart flutters where it sits in her hands, Don’t I always? You choke, and she hums with a smirk before her lips curl against yours. Poking fun at her for being a bottom is long gone; This is the most sure you’ve ever seen her in this setting. You’re often the hand that guides, lures her in, eases the unwanted tension and leads you both to gratification, but now she’s doing that for you; her tongue slides over your mouth one last time before balancing herself on the edge of the bed and dropping to her knees, eyes lined up with the fat tip of the toy. 

Oh … Oh. 

You’re one of the most… talented people I know. She flatters, so lustful and genuine. I know that side of you is still in there. It’s all gonna come back to you… M’ just gonna help. 

Is this your proposal of being my muse? You quirk. She shrugs, her hand closing tight around the length, Could be. Depends on how good you think I do. 

Always do so good, You acclaim, I love you… fuck—

Ellie kisses the tip before purring, I love you more… Anyone ever do this to you? 

… Is this a trick question? Uhh… Like… like, one time. Despite your doubts, you choose honesty. The memory is lackluster and quick. It was decent enough. Merely for experimenting purposes. 

The twinkles in her eyes catch flame, What’d you like about it. She asks, but it’s not a question; it’s sharp, and you almost start crying. 

I-I dunno—

Before you can lie, a glob of spit lands all over the head. The glare she sends you is both icy and hot as she massages in the wetness, gliding it all over. Your knees buckle under your weight, and she leers up at you. You like it like that? Nice’n sloppy? 

You’ve had… so much sex in your life, and never once, in the history of the universe, have you ever been this fucking wet. If you were to go on a casual midnight stroll right now, sloshy noises would echo from between your legs for miles. The glint in her eye is knowing, and spit gathers all over her tongue as it swirls around the tip. The sounds her lips make are sinister; your chest concaves in a wheeze. 

When the tip slides a hair deeper on her tongue, you choke a pained noise. She releases the tip when your body stutters again. She says nothing, simply shoves you down onto the bed by your thighs, planting herself in between them once more. There’s so much fucking spit; it slides down in droplets all over the sides of the silicone as she slobbers on the crown, preps it for when it slides down her throat. Her mussed blankets are clenched between your fingers; your breathing is ragged. 

Such a good fuckin’ girl, Your tongue swells, and Ellie keens, eyes sparkling underneath stray auburn when they flutter at your praise. Your cramped fingers brush the strands away before knotting in her hair. The bun at the back of her head slowly loosens, trapping your digits in her locks. A soft whimper leaves her when you pull. 

For some reason, your eyes travel, only for a second, but you’re met with an elongated image of Ellie’s dotted spine, the goosebumps on her skin, the way her head bobs half an inch at a time, all in her full body mirror. You choke on a whine, and the muscles in Ellie’s back twitch. 

Oh my fuckin’ god, Your fingers tighten in her tresses and she whines, the arch in her back deepening. Your walls pulsate when you catch the glistens of slick spilling from her entrance at your sounds, both holes clamping down, pleading for you. Gonna let me fuck that pretty throat? 

Her moans are sloppy and wet. Her head bows, and you know she’s taking you deeper, nails digging into your thighs. It’s a curse that you can’t feel the tightness of her sunken cheeks. She pops off you, desperation leaking from her when whines, Fuck my mouth, baby, please, lips gliding all over the underside. You move on autopilot, sliding up further onto the mattress, feet planted on the floor and hips hanging off the edge of the bed. Ellie’s nasty; practically making out with your tip while you stabilize your position. It’s fucking messy, how her saliva drips down the base until it meets the harness, small beads building on your bare thigh. 

Stick your tongue out, you order before squeezing her face in your free palm. Her pink muscle lulls until it lays on the connective skin between your thumb and index, coated in drool. It’s not enough for you, though; Saliva builds in your mouth before it shoots onto hers, and she moans when it splatters all over her tongue, speckles landing on her cheek. A heavy hand comes down to pat her cheek, and she cries a quiet I love you. You smile and it’s dark, Uh huh, love you, too. Keep it out, your thumb drags on her bottom lip until her tongue rests flat over her bottom teeth. 

The hand that twines in her hair is harsh, Hands behind your back, you say and she does without questioning. You kiss her cheek before guiding her head steady towards the tip until it sits on her tongue. Her jaw widens when your hips rise off the mattress; you hold her still an inch forward, her mouth closing around the wrist. Her noises are quiet and docile, and she swallows; You shudder when you watch her throat close before pulling out. 

Okay? Want more? 

Her eyes plead like a puppy’s, tongue cycling on the prong. Breathe through your nose, Your hand loosens a bit in her hair, Just pull off when you wanna stop, okay, baby? 

One whine of approval and you’re pushing in again; Her hips twitch in the mirror as her mouth fills and you snicker; her thighs are coated in slick, a thin line dripping onto her furry rug. That’s my girl, fuck, you’re so cute, You grit and her fingers clench. The pace of your hips kick up slightly, testing to see how much she can take. You monitor her every move: the way her eyes float empty in her skull when her cheeks expand, how her breathing quickens when your thumb caresses her scalp, how tight her throat gets when you push too deep. 

Look at how wet that pussy is, Ellie moans over your thrusts. Slobber coats her lips and chin; dribbles all the way down to her chest. Your bottom lip traps between your teeth. 

You plunge too deep apparently; she gags and pulls off and explodes into a fit of coughs, forehead falling onto your thigh as she heaves. You kiss her head and apologize frantically… 

And then, she starts giggling. 

“Fuck — Fuck, I’m sorry —“

She snorts and coughs some more, and you’re stuck. You hold both of her sizzling cheeks in your hands and kiss all over her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry —“

“You’re really hot.” Her voice is croaky and broken and more slick gushes from you. How shameful. 

“Me?! Are you fucking — are you okay?” 

“Mhm.” She hums before pecking your lips, “Fuck me now? I’m… I’m so wet,” She whispers like she told you something secretive. You can bet every minuscule dollar you own that you’re wetter, but anxiety settles in your stomach. Your girl’s asking you to fuck the daylights out of her after nearly killing her with the fucking dick-shaped vegetable on your waist, and you’re panicking. 

“Ellie, I’m scared as fuck, not even gon’ lie—“

“Nothing to be scared of. I trust you.” Another kiss before she mutters, “Take care of me?” 

“P-Promise.”

Your mind rushes. 

The past twenty minutes have felt like a blur; you hardly recall pinning Ellie down on the mattress to keep her still while your tongue swirled inside her, how tight her walls clamped down on two fingers, how she scratched and squirted and squealed for you to fuck her. 

And now she’s beneath you, hips twirling up, desperate for friction as her nails tear at your hips, but you ignore her. You’re gawking at the lubricated strap that rests on her throbbing cunt, how the inches almost touch her belly button. You’re trapped in a daze as your hips move mindlessly, brows furrowed. 

W-What’s the matter, baby? She keens at you. 

Nothin’ You’re gruff, Thinking. 

And you are thinking… about how Ellie’s going to take this shit. The length is concerning on it’s own, but it’s so fucking wide and curves up. You recall the amount of times she’s winced when you fingered her. It should worry you; how far she’s going to stretch to take it all, how much her softness is going to resist against something so big. Your head is twisted where it wanders; conjures up disgusting visuals of her begging you to split her open, to make her take it, to give it to her as mean as you can. You can’t help it, though; She’s an angel when she cries. 

Agitation creases in her brows, “Gimme it—“

“I think it’s gonna hurt,” You slur. Her taste swirls on your tongue when you speak, and it makes you wetter. 

“I don’t care. Give it to me,” she snaps. “Want you… inside—“

Your brow flits, “Want me inside? I’ve been inside. A lot, actually.”

“Don’t fuck with me right now.” 

“Ellie, c’mon! Look at this shit! There’s no way—“ 

“I’m lying here telling you to do it! Fucking —“ She sighs in annoyance, “Let me get on top. You weren’t supposed to do shit anyway.” 

“Ellie!—“

“Stop talking and lay the fuck down!” 

You plop down onto your back with a slew of curses, and Ellie takes — snatches the reins from you; she leaps into your lap, lube in hand, scolding sizzling on her tongue. 

“I don’t wanna hear shit. Just… let me do it.” 

A cheesy smile grows, “… You’re not you when you’re horny—“

“What the fuck did I just say!” She squirts more fluorescent blue into her palm and blindly massages it into your strap. It’s horribly messy by the time she’s done, taking it in her hand and lining herself up without warning. 

“… Wha—“

Her non-lubed palm clamps on your mouth, silencing you with a hefty eye roll. Ellie arches a brow when you hold two thumbs up in silent encouragement. You love your girlfriend! 

Ellie steadies herself with a mumbled, please, God, don’t let me die, right above the tip before her hips drop not even an inch. You’re a hawk the way you eye her tiny hole expanding around the girthy crown. Her breaths are heavy and ragged, but she takes her time; hips rising when she’s taken too much, sinking when she’s comfortable, and you’re hypnotized by it all. 

Her hand drops from your mouth and plants on your chest when you’ve finally quieted — besides the mumbles of ohmyfuckinggod when her lips manage to swallow up the tip. Her bottom lip bruises from her teeth, tears welling in her eyes and her thighs twitching. She looks like she’s hurting and your heart shatters. Carnality be damned. 

“E-Ellie… baby, we don’t have to—“

You’re so… fucking big, she squirms, and you stiffen. 

Your nails latch — sink into her hips and your jaw slacks; gaping at how she struggles to take you, how she winces and gasps at the stretch until she’s halfway. You’re doing that to her, getting her nice and full; it takes all your strength to keep your hips flat on the bed despite every cell luring you to stuff her to the brim. 

… It hurt? 

I don’t — know — fuck, Ellie’s eyes flit in every direction: locks onto the ceiling, the bed frame above you, your breasts and your dick. Ah, shit — 

Good? You confirm and she hums, whimpering to herself until her ass rests on your thighs. Any traces of dark purple are no longer visible, only hints of bright green glowing from the base of the harness. 

You whistle lowly, Damn… you’re real as fuck. 

Gimme a sec, She sighs, and you raise your palms, Whenever you’re ready. 

The longer she sits, the more relaxed her face becomes; flush darkening on her cheeks and above her breasts, more slick ringing around the circumference. 

… This is very interesting, Ellie says aloud, and shocked laughter bursts through your chest. She’s fucking hilarious, actually. Scale of one to ten? Your brows give a mischievous wiggle, and she pauses, hips moving around, testing the waters. Her eyelids bat gently. 

… S-Seven ‘n a half? She moans, and you smirk, You sure? It looks like an eight to me. 

She glares playfully, Gonna have to work for that rating. 

You squint up at her before sitting upright, chest to chest, and her arms wrap around your neck for balance. I’m waitin’ on the green light, you whisper against her lips. She laughs weakly, One star rating on Yelp. Too much back talk. 

You kiss her around a smile before pecking all over her cheeks. She grabs the back of your neck to hold you still, melding her mouth on yours. You swallow her soft noises when your tongues intertwine, hands cupping her ass. Ellie’s jaw slacks when her hips raise and drop, gasping on your tongue. You lick into her mouth and hold her steady, nails deep in her soft skin when her pace quickens. 

You grin, Yeah? Better? 

Ellie nods and a hand slips between you, and you groan aloud when her fingers meet her slippery clit, the tips dripping wet in seconds as sloshing noises echo through her bedroom. Your arm wraps around her waist to yank her down, and she squeaks, back arching, chest shoving against yours. You done showin’ off? You grit against her cheek and she huffs. Ellie’s hands shove at your shoulders until you’re laying flat on the mattress, and you snicker. Her hold is strong on your chest as she bounces, her tits trembling every time she comes down. 

The way she says your name is intoxicating; so drawn out and velvety and makes your cunt tremor. Your eyes trap on how she touches herself; one hand settled on your chest while the other rubs at her clit, pulls at her nipples, makes them shine with her juices. You’re aching to touch her, but you stay put; let her have her fun.

You catch movement out the corner of your eye; Ellie’s trapped in another mirror off to the side, shrouded in pleasure: head thrown back while she cries at the ceiling, slurred flattery of how good you feel inside her igniting the flame in your core. 

Look how good you’re takin’ that shit, you groan and the muscles in her ass squeeze in the mirror; you can feel the ripples in her cunt pulling at your strap, and it nearly sends you. What you’d give to feel her flesh choking around you when she breaks, succumbs to pleasure while you explode inside her. It enrages you to no end. 

Your pupils meet at the bridge of your nose when a clammy hand inches up your chest to the column of your throat to rest. Ellie whines from above, a shaky C-Can I? You're about to make a mess all over her sheets. You hardly register the desperate bobs of your head, and her grip tightens around your neck. Pinches down on the sides, and your soul leaves your body. 

You like that? She snickers dark around a moan and fucks down harder onto your lap, You’re so fucking — holy, fuck —

Your hand clamps around her wrist and she squeezes harder; the hold is threatening, and your clit jumps. Your promises are wet and muffled; exclamations of m’yours melting on your tongue. Your girl is going to break you. 

Her efforts eventually slow, and you know she’s getting tired. You look up, right into her eyes and you nearly break. They’re pleading, imploring you to take care of me, make me cum for you; she eases into a steady grind, and the pressure from her hips add friction to your clit. You curse lowly, and she whimpers back. You’re already so close from how long you held off, but you don’t want to cum yet. She’s getting hers first. 

E-Ellie, get up—

You barely finish your command before she lifts up and off, strings of slick connecting her pussy and your dick together. Your maneuvers are quick; you’re up on your knees in seconds and grab her hips, guiding her until she’s on all fours, facing all of the mirrors at the front of her room. Your mouth waters at the sight of both holes pulsing sporadically, begging for your cock. 

Your hand deepens the arch in her spine until she’s face down on a lone pillow. Your heart swells when Ellie extends a shaky hand to you, fingers curling tight around the hand that rests on her hip. You kiss her wrist and she sighs happily. You grab your slippery dick and line it up at her entrance; her hips push back when you nudge inside, wet gasps leaving her as you split her all over again; but this time, you can see it. You’re moaning with her, a thin line of drool landing on her asscheek. 

It hurt, baby? You grunt, stupid with lust, body on fire, Huh? She can’t even talk, just shoves her face in the pillow and says your name, over and over. You push in deeper, and she groans, sobs, begs for you to fuck me, baby, fuck me fuck me fuck me, please—

That’s all it takes; your hands clutch tight on both hips to yank her back onto your cock. A shocked squeal rattles the four walls that enclose such filth when she’s finally stuffed full: she spurs on your aggression, jumbled yesyesyess hitting the pillowcase, her nails sinking into your wrist. Your strokes are deep; you watch how tight she grips your dick, plush pink milking every inch that leaves when you pull out, desperate to keep you in place, a light rim of cream building around her lips. 

You and Ellie’s teary eyes lock in the mirror on her dresser, her pink lips gaping around each crude praise she throws at you. It’s music to your ears.

You hi — hit it so good, baby! 

Just like that — oh, god, yeah! —

I love you so fuckin’ much!

Her messy hair flies in every direction, bounces with your thrusts, enticing you to grip it. Dark red wraps around your tight fist and you pull, and she goes stupid, eyes crossing in her skull and glossy drool hanging off the edge of her bottom lip.

Your yanks get her up until her sweaty back meets your chest, arch deepening when you lean into her, lips caressing her tinted ear. 

You love me, mama? 

She shudders on you, Fuck, yes — so fuckin’ much! Love this dick! 

Yeah? It’s yours?

F-Fuckin’ mine… A—All mine— 

You reach around to find her clit, and she gushes around you, Show me who it belongs to. You beg and she meets your hips, Get me fuckin’ nasty with it, cum all over your dick, baby, your words hit her like a threat, and she wails curses; sucks you all the way in when the tightness builds; you push in as deep as you can and it sends her over. Ellie’s thrashes and you're forced to hold her up, arm thrown around her chest while she grinds back onto you; you can feel how hard she’s cumming as the base jerks with her pulses, your name a constant on her tongue. You grind into her until she shakes, nails scratching at your hips to stop you. 

Ellie’s limp when you pull out, purple coated in white creaminess, and she whimpers like she’s begging you to come back home. 

Lay down, you choke. Your walls won’t stop clenching. 

She turns her head to kiss your neck before supporting her weight on her hands. 

Nuh uh, You tsk, On your back. Needa see you when I cum. You say, and she whines like a bitch, slick and cum flooding at her entrance. You help her maneuver and yank her closer until she’s staring up at you and her entrance lines up with your strap, eyes delicate and trusting and obsessed. The trees in them brush with ferocity and need for you; a tight hand squeezes her cheeks so her lips pucker, and you bend down to kiss her. It’s gross: desperate and uncoordinated tongues entangle with one another, spit spreading on the outside of each other's mouths, loud smacking noises filling your ears with lecher. It gets you hot, and you melt when Ellie’s hand blindly grabs for your dick to slide it between her sopping lips. Your body flattens on top of hers as she guides you in, her mouth opening around moans as you stretch her all over again. 

There’s still resistance; How’s she this fucking tight? 

Your hips follow her guide until you're nudged deep, barely half an inch of green exposed. Her thighs spread wider around your waist so you fit snug between, no space amidst your bodies. Your elbows rest on either side of her head, holding you up while your tongues swirl. Your knees dig into the mattress and your hips move on autopilot; your tongue dazedly licks over her lips to her jaw, bruising the skin a deep maroon. The sounds that erupt from her cunt are filthy, begging for your cum in earnest. 

Your eyes flutter open to study Ellie’s face; her body bobs when your hips meet, her eyes squeezed shut and her battered lips glistening, sinful verbiage spilling from her, completely brainless as her peak approaches. 

Your head drops into her neck and she holds you close, moaning against her throat with every deep thrust; the stimulation on your clit is nearly too much; You’re so sensitive, but you drill into her, take what’s yours. Her nails are deep in your back and it stings, wetness spilling from you from the pain. You’re hardly fucking her, just grinding your hips as you chase your release, filling her deep. 

She’s mumbling about how hard she’s going to cum. Yeah? You spit in her ear, Gonna fuckin’ cum? And she squeaks out curses in approval. Ellie’s moans pitch high before slick splatters on both your thighs, soaks through the sheets. You lift your heavy head to watch Ellie jerk and sob and confess her utter devotion to you as long as you continue to fuck her like this. You love her so fucking much; She deserves to feel this good; to wake up to pleasure and put back to bed with it.

Ellie’s orgasm breaks her; her babbles slur and crack as they hit your lips: you make me cum so good, fuck me ‘til you cum, I love you so fuckin’ much; she’s all over the place but she begs for your pleasure, begs for you to release . The pace in your thrusts rebuilds; you’re moaning in her mouth, clit throbbing in your soaked underwear. You can practically taste your release where it sits on the edge of your tongue, completely unbound when you slur promises;

Gonna give you all my fucking cum. 

You take in how far her pretty eyes roll at your confession, how cravingly she begs for you stuff her with sticky white; it makes your clit jerk, once, twice, until your walls pull in tight—

Ellie’s orgasm triggers your own; the pleasure is so intense that it’s painful and your vision whites out, all while she coats your waist in love and desire and slick. You’re both so loud and can’t keep still, sultry bodies trembling against one another. You grow lightheaded when Ellie’s hips fuck down and onto you to prolong your orgasm, voice dripping in seduction in your ear as she encourages you to fill her up, to keep her good and dirty. 

It feels like minutes pass when the pleasure finally subsides; you can’t stop shaking and there’s no strength in your limbs, resting completely weightless on top of your girlfriend. Your head rests in Ellie’s palms as she pecks all over your face, thanking you, asking if you’ve found any inspiration. 

You’ve never been so excited to draw an O face in your fucking life. You need new pens!

“… Ellie?” 

“Mhm?” She sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and a smile settles on your face. 

“D-Did I earn that eight?” 

She exhales a laugh before kissing your sweaty forehead, “And that five star Yelp review.” You wheeze out a celebratory yaaay and Ellie’s body rocks with laughter beneath you. 

The sun is going to rise soon. Ellie’s not tired. 

She loves dawn. It’s her favorite time of day: the giant, boiling orb just barely cresting from behind mountains, birds flocking and framing the rays of light, clouds orange and pink and a misty blue. She’s taken hundreds of pictures of that gorgeous scenery alone; It’s funny how she feels like something’s missing from them now that you’re back in her life. 

She wants you in the center of every picture she takes. In all of her favorite places… In her car, in her room, in water. You’re a fucking star on camera. 

A freshly showered Ellie rests on her bed(with new sheets… her blue ones are forever ruined) as she rolls up, eyes glued to the back of your head. You’re sitting on the floor, right on her fluffy rug, the sound of pen scratching against paper surrounding you, secluded in a space of peace. Proud can’t describe what she feels. 

Ellie seals the blunt as she imagines what you’re creating. You told her she couldn’t see until it’s finished, but she’s becoming impatient. Ellie’s nosy; She thought giving you puppy-eyes would work like every other time, but you simply got up and moved somewhere private with a twinkle in your eye. 

Ellie reaches for her lighter on her nightstand and sparks, “Wanna hit?” You deny calmly, focused, entranced by your imagery, and Ellie sighs. She's happy you’re easing back into drawing, but she wants attention. She’s in love; Sue her. 

Ellie puffs in silence. The more she inhales, the fonder she grows. Why’re you so far away? She smokes half the blunt before stubbing out the end, placing it on the ashtray on her small desk. She tries to be sly and creep behind you slowly to get a peak of your creation, but the shuffling of blankets exposes her. You whip your head and shut your book with quickness, a smirk on your face. Her bottom lip traps between her face to hide a smile when you ask, 

“Can I help you?” 

She inches closer until her lips graze your ear, inhaling her cinnamon body wash on you, “Come to bed?” 

“In a minute, baby, promise.” You whisper back when she kisses underneath your earlobe. She hums in disapproval, “Now.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

Ellie says the first thing that comes to mind, doesn’t even bother to play into your frisky threat. It’s terrorized her mind for the past four years, kept her company when you were gone and she had to settle with her own hand. 

You’re a fucking star on camera. 

“… You ever made a tape?” The proposal is quiet and husky, and your eyes turn to globes, stunned and instantly filled with darkness. 

“… Are you serious?” Ellie nods, her tongue teasing the shell of your ear, lips inching down to your neck, sucking at your shoulder. 

“Oh, you’re crazy.” 

“Come to bed.” Much more stern, and you shudder, tossing your book to the side. 

“How do cam-couples do this shit, what the fuck.” 

Ellie’s attention gets pulled from her tripod and lands on you, back arched with her iPad in both hands that extend out to the bed frame. The camera’s on you, trying to get the perfect capture of your ass, constantly adjusting your form. 

“It’s truly a skill,” Ellie mumbles back, securing her camera. She ensures that the plate won’t wobble before carrying it by the stand and placing it beside the bed. “You look excited.” 

“Excited like yaaay or excited like horny?” Your ass wiggles teasingly and Ellie snorts. 

“Both.” 

“Y’know, for someone who’s never done this, you look like a professional—“

Ellie scoffs, “I am a professional. Degree and two licenses—“

Your jaw slacks around moans and your hips thrusts back, “Fuuuck, that’s hot. Rub it in my face some more, it’s getting me so wet—“

Ellie stares blankly and you burst into cackles, dropping her device on the freshly made mattress.

“Nerdy Spider-geek wrecks school slut’s pussy non-stop orgasms—“

Ellie sits next to you, adjusting the lense, “What the fuck are you talking about.” 

You snort, “Our vid title. Or — orrr, I gotta better one! Constellation station makes astrology-loser girlfriend see the Milky Way—“

“No one’s gonna click that.” 

“I would!” The bed dips behind Ellie, and goosebumps rise on her skin when your lips connect with the muscles in her back. Graze all the way up her neck, “And you would, too. Lil’ freak.” Ellie’s core gives a tight squeeze. What a change of fucking events: used to be bullied over being the school’s freak show, and now her body’s begging her girlfriend to throw it in her face one more time. 

“I’m not posting anything.” 

You tsk, “A shame. Could’ve used that OnlyFans bag.” A dreamy sigh from you, “You know you can do whatever you want to me, right?” 

“I’ve been told.” 

“And I meant it.” You’re a fucking siren, “Your time to shine, baby. Nothing’s off limits in my book.” 

Ellie’s stern, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

“Whatever you like, I like. Wanna feel how wet you make me, space ranger?” 

You and Ellie are polar opposites, and somehow share the singular fucking braincell when you’re horny. You have the same effect on her. She turns her head to meet your eyes, “Can I fix the camera first?” 

A gentle peck on her cheek gets her body thrumming, “Ay, ay, captain.” And you fall back onto the mattress, rolling until you reach the other side of the bed. You’re up and running to the bathroom… with the 9M Sex bag in your hand. 

… Ellie’s never been more afraid(wet) than she is right now. 

The set up is ready. One tripod simply wasn’t enough to capture all that you bring; Ellie found another thrown in the back of her closet and got it situated, angled and ready, at the foot of the bed where her phone and iPad lay. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous like you didn’t just beat her walls down a few hours ago. This discarded blunt isn’t helping her, either. 

Ellie’s confident that she’ll faint mid-stroke—

“Smells like pussy in here.” 

Ellie blushes and turns at your call from the bathroom entryway. She’s engulfed in flames at the sight of you. 

… You’re cute. She’ll give you that. 

She scoffs a laugh around smoke at the alien antennas in your locs, and the green alien head on the triangle of your thong. Her eyes squint as she watches you pose in the doorway, bent over, squeezing your breasts. She scales your body as you prance over until you’re standing in front of her, staring down into her eyes. 

“Whatcha think, space ranger?” You seduce, pushing your tits into her face, “Wanna teach a clueless little alien about sexual healing?” 

“You’re… insane.” 

“You love it,” … She does. Fuck, she does. You leer at her, “Is she rollin’?”

… Weed? Always.

… Camera. Camera! 

Ellie drags her free hand up the back of your thigh while sticking her blunt between her lips, blindly reaching around to the camera. Her fingers feel around until a small beep slices through the weighted silence, the red light indicating the start of a recording. 

“She is now.” Ellie takes one last rip, and it chokes her a bit, smoke wafting up to your nostrils before she stubs it out, discarding her tray and lighter to the side. The scent gets you giddy. 

You hum, and Ellie falls back at your shove, and 

she’s pounced on in no time. Your finger locks around her Spider-Man charm to pull her closer. You’re slow at first, teasing her mouth with yours before pecking, licking over her lips like a kitten while she gets handfuls of your bare ass. Boldness sparks in her chest when she thinks about the camera directly behind you; her hands move mindlessly, pulling your asscheeks apart until the string is right above your stretched asshole, your pussy lips swallowing the tiny triangle. 

You moan into her mouth when the bunched fabric rubs against your clit; the fabric is already soaked through and sticky, and the kiss breaks with Ellie’s satisfied grin. 

Adrenaline jolts through her body when her mouth trails down your jaw, a tight hand clamped around your soft cheeks to force your head wherever she needs it. She drinks up every small noise you breathe into the muggy air, mouth tickling the shell of your ear like a feather, Ride my fucking face, she whispers — demands; it sounds like she’s begging, and you gasp. 

Do it, Ellie beckons, Show out, superstar. 

Your girlfriend is so fucking sexy… But, of course, your dark thoughts win. 

“S-Should I make, like… alien noises when I bust, or somethin’? E.T, phone home type shit?”

Ellie snaps with a glare, “Don’t kill my fucking vibe.” 

“Okay, damn! My fault! Just tryna be cute for the vlog.” 

“… It’s not a fucking vlog—“

“Day in the life of annoying artistic lesbians who are also gay—“

“I'm drying up.” Ellie’s palms dig into her eyes. 

“No you’re not,” you purr before climbing up her torso. She grabs your waist before you reach her chin. 

“Turn around. Want the cam to see your face.” 

Your antennas wiggle on your head when you switch positions, “… Beep bop beepboop—“

You fall over in hysterics at Ellie’s hollered laughter. “Oh my — PFFFT —“

“STOP FUCKING LAUGHING!” You scream back at her, wiping tears from your face, “I’m tryna be cute!” You huff and swing a leg over her waist, and Ellie silences. The length of your back is on display for her; You’re cracking jokes about fucking alien sex but she’s not listening. How could she when your ass rests pert on her chest, when the sight of your dripping cunt and tight asshole is right there? Practically on her chin—

C’mere. Back up a little. She whispers, but you’re shy, only inching up her chest with sparkly eyes. Ellie rolls hers before wrapping her arms around your thighs to yank you back. She snickers and eyes the wet alien over your clit. 

Her smile drops when a sly hand slides over your ass, index finger hitching into the string of your thong to pull it to the side. A moan leaves Ellie’s mouth when your pussy clenches from above, and you snort mockingly. 

You’re easy as fuck. Such a cutie pie—

Shut the fuck up, you only laugh harder, and Ellie’s hands twitch, irritation sizzling in her fingertips. You’re so fucking annoying and she’s soaking. She’d drink you for days. 

The next moments go by in a flash; your thong is shredded by icy hands, dangling limply from your waist as excited squeals leave your mouth. Ellie’s tongue is aggressive where it swipes all over your cunt, arms synched tight around the meat of your thighs to hold you still. Your smell intoxicates her, turns her mind lucid, makes her squirm and ache. Every second that passes, her excitement to re-watch your creation grows. She wishes she could see you. 

You love cameras, attention — limelight. You deserve every inkling of praise; mutters against your cunt how good you are, how soft your pussy is, how bad she wants to make you cry. Ellie growls into you when your hips start rocking on her face, testing the waters with your hands planted on her thighs. Her arms drop flat on the mattress, allowing you full access to use her. Ellie’s tongue lays over her bottom lip, and your movements bolden. Your hips curl, slick smearing all over her mouth to the tip of her nose. 

F—Fuck, baby, oh shit— 

Ellie moans like she’s urging you to drench her entire face. Her tongue slithers inside your cunt and you choke out her name, nails sinking into her thighs. The muscle moves inside you with purpose, swirling up against your walls as they squeeze down. The cries that leave are too much for her; she swears there’s a puddle left on the blankets beneath her. 

When you gasp, fuck, baby, cumming for you, Ellie whimpers and her thighs squeeze together. Her arms pull you as close as she can get you, slurping and sucking at your clit as it pulses through your orgasm. You beg her not to stop, thighs quaking around her head. Ellie alternates from flicking your clit to sucking cum from your slit, and she envisions your gorgeous eyes rolled back beneath her eyelids. 

Wanna make me cum again, baby? Yeah? Your sonics tremble alongside Ellie’s thighs. She knows you're smiling like an angel at the lens and she sobs for more of your cum, more of your taste. Your moans pick up with the snaps of your hips once more. 

F-Fuck me with your tongue, Ellie, You plead and she listens; Your walls melt around her, softness closing in around the wet muscle. Ellie’s whole body twitches when a soft hand rests above her boxers, right on her swollen bud and rubs. She's bucking up into your palm, desperate for friction, but you don't... give it. She groans against your lips and sucks you harder, and you squeal.

It doesn't take long for you to peak again; slick glides down Ellie's chin and drowns her, coats her throat in dreamy stickiness with her nails in the fat of your ass.

She slurps and eats you up until you're running up the mattress with her name melted on your tongue.

“How the fuck — oh my fuckin’ god, put your head down—“

Ellie snickers at you struggling to get her in the frame of the iPad camera. She comfortingly rubs over your ass, “There’s a camera right in front of you, babe—“

“Not good enough. I’m tryna watch you hit it.” 

More jerking around. More flipping of the device. More sighs of annoyance before you strike gold. 80% of Ellie’s face is in frame… alongside her pretty titties. Mission somewhat accomplished. You watch her smile through the lens before sending a thumbs up. The iPad gets adjusted before you throw her one behind your head. 

“Uhhh… So what now?” 

“What do you mean.” 

“I just… stick it in?” 

“Mhm. Touch anywhere. Fuck me however you want. Make love to me. I’ll love it. I love you.” 

Your voice turns her into the largest puddle of pink glitter. That deep, broken twinge gets her bones sizzling. “I love you more.” 

Your hips buck back on her so hard that she almost falls over, but she managed to catch what you’re throwing. Barely. Her heart’s in her throat. 

“Prove it…”

Ellie can see your smile and her teeth grit at your snicker. 

“Fucking bottom.” 

Your head gets pushed down into the sheet, and you smile, antennas standing tall. You grin so goddamn wide. Lottery. Lottery— 

Everything is silent… Minus the little alert of the started recording when Ellie whispers against the curve of your ear, 

“Don’t start that shit again. Don’t.” 

You whimper as audibly as you can with a smushed cheek. It seems to push her; she’s reaching between your legs and your clit leaps in appreciation. In infatuation. Her fingers slosh between a deep brown and pink as she messily kisses your sweaty back. 

“Behave.” Her rubs are deadly on your clit, 

“I-I know we were joking earlier—“

“What now—“

“You like being called daddy?” 

Everything stops. Your brain never fails to ruin your satisfaction. “No, what the fuck—“

“Damn… forreal?” 

“Dude—“

“Just asking! You may proceed.” 

When Ellie senses that you’ll finally shut the fuck up, she does, and you’re happy again. 

“If you call me mommy, I’ll strangle you.” Ellie slurs wetly against the end of your spine. She tsks when she catches your ass and cunt squeeze down at the threat, walls sucking hard on the finger she hadn’t registered slipped in. Fucking high-fiving each other. 

The curve in your spine deepens when a certain tip rubs up against your clit. Nestles right in between the plump of your lips. Slides back and forth slowly. 

You’re so loud already… You’re watching your own nut build right in front of your eyes; You can’t help it. In front of your sexy ass girlfriend. Mainly due to the mirroring of Ellie staring at where you two connect with such thirst. She’s ravenous for you and you fucking love her. 

“Fuck me, baby, please, please.“ 

“I like that.” She states plainly, so you get louder. 

“Please, Ellie, please? Ple—”

A recording alert and a flash appears in your lens. Ellie holds her phone up as she captures you from the back; all over your spine, your ass, your holes that desperately twitch and beg for her entry. 

“Shhh, gotchu, honey. Just playing with you.” She coos quietly. Your body wracks at her voice and she hides a smirk with teeth in her lip. “Wish you could see how much you’re leaking right now. So fucking sexy.”

No brain. Brainless. You’re brainless. Just Ellie and pleasure and happiness and love. Your blinks are lost. You may never go back to your dad’s again. 

You can’t see her guide herself in but you feel it. Feel that nudge inside and your mouth gapes. The iPad tremors with your shaky movements as she presses in. She takes her time, captures every pant and jerk of hips before she halts them with a stern hand. When she’s fully sat inside you, she locks eyes with you in the front frame. Drinks in your muted pleads of her to wreck you however she pleases. 

Ellie holds your gaze when she pulls out. She’s battling; conflicted between watching how your eyes welt and shine or memorizing the stretch of your cunt. Jade crystals flit back and forth. Anywhere they can reach. 

H-How ya doin’ back there? 

A harsh thrust from your girlfriend earns her a guttural noise from your lips before she mumbles, Think m’ good. 

You are, baby, fuck—

Praise gets her going. She stops her own recording and tosses her phone some fucking where before hands close around your hips — tightly, so tightly. Holds you steady and still before she takes. 

Ellie might not use this fucking iPad footage. The screen fucking rattles every time she hits and crests deep inside you, bruising you. All that’s caught in the frame is your lovedrunk eyes and your loud, slobbery mouth and glittery antennas bouncing on your head. Quick glimpses of Ellie’s tits jumping. 

There’s a constant change of pace and it gives you whiplash. Her fucking goes from brutal to passionate to leisure to just fucking grinding while she’s fully submerged in your wetness. She’s experimenting, as she should! You treasure every grab and scratch and tug at your skin. She’s yanking and pulling at you like a fucking rag doll and your body goes lax. 

So does your fucking tongue, apparently. 

“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie spits down at you. 

But she doesn’t stop. She fucks you faster, and you start sobbing. 

“Y-You fucking heard me. I know you wanna—“

“I’m not saying that shit.” Her hips snap with intent to punish and the device falls from your hands, face planted deep in her soft blankets and tugging at her sheets. 

“Just say it! Sayitsayit—“

Ellie groans like an animal from behind you. Grabs the back of your neck and shoves your face down into her sheets, muffling your shouts and begs to degrade the living shit outta you. Call you disgusting names that got the two of you in that complicated mess when you first met. The slapping of wet skin and your screams make her crazed and wound up so tight that she almost slips. 

Ellie’s trying to ignore the piercing, tearful pleads of callmeaslutcallmeaslutimyourwhore but she’s leaking like a fucking faucet. Knows she shouldn’t reopen that fucking Pandora’s box when you’re so vulnerable, but she’s fuckdrunk and so are you. 

“You gonna cum?” 

You nod. 

“You like when I’m mean to you?” 

You nod faster and Ellie’s tummy squeezes. She scoffs a disgusting laugh before her body melds against your back, your angled knees slipping down the mattress so she’s fully laid on you, viperid tongue right at your ear… 

It's just this once... You know she loves you... One little jumbled slur wouldn't do too much harm. You're begging her for it, aren't you?

Something in your mind breaks over the next minute and a half. The last memory you have is Ellie’s teeth nipping at your lobe before she whispered, 

I love turning you into my nasty little slut. 

And that was that. You entered another universe filled with white noise and colorful lights and Ellie and… a lotta wet. You could’ve been in the Atlantic with how drenched her mattress is right now. You owe her an apology. 

Top 2 best nuts of your life and it’s not 2. 

Your pussy’s still twitching around her even though she’s left you immobile. You hardly register her mumble against your back, 

“I didn’t get my pic.”

You make a questioned, weak noise. Your index finger twitches, so she grabs your wrist to kiss it. 

“I needa pic of your O face. I’m starting a collection. We gotta run it back again.” 

Another broken wheeze. A death sentence is what you have. What your girlfriend will give you. 

Ellie was a virgin when you met her… but was she really? 

You have no idea what time of day it is, what day it is, or where your fucking cat has ventured off in the house, but you’re about seven —maybe eight— nuts deep, and your girlfriend is still fucking you. 

You thought she was joking when she shoved her phone in your hand and instructed you to capture the moment right before you bust all over her, but she actually meant it… What the fuck does she think you are? Smart? Not in this fucking state. How do you even work this goddamn phone again? 

C’mon, baby. I just need a good one. Give it to me ‘n I’ll stop. 

Her pleading moan is a double-ended sword. Your legs are so sore from being held in air as she plowed you, but you’re also a deranged, sex-obsessed, girlfriend-obsessed lesbo. Do you really want her to stop or has the dopamine melted all your brain cells? The amount of mid-orgasm photos you’ve taken over the past hour could’ve filled a museum, but Ellie’s always dissatisfied, saying that she can barely see your face because you kept wiggling around. What does she expect! 

She’s digging for that picture, though. Right at your cervix. 

Been such a good little slut. Taking it so good. Just do this last little thing for me. 

You’re nodding but you’re not listening. Bells and whistles ring in your ears as your filled hand shakes. The tightness in your walls steals your breath for a second. 

Tell me when you're boutta cum. 

You somehow manage to get a squeak out, barely audible, but Ellie gets the point. Her hands find refuge underneath your knees and bring them up higher while she mouths at your neck. It happens all over again; that cresting feeling right before you crash. 

I love you. Make it good. 

Ellie’s ears split at your shouts of her name, but she grins madly at the sound of frantic camera clicks coming from above her. She plants a doting kiss on your cheek. 

You hope you did. You really hope you did.

taggiessssss thanks 4 waiting :3 @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl @callmewhenyoukan @macaroni676 @draculurasblog @ellieaesp @@gravygranules @elsblunt

[the-daiz]

When you’re sick | One punch man

Synopsis; How the one punch men would act when you’re bed ridden

genre: fluff, hc

Characters: Saitama, Genos, Speed-o’-sound sonic, flashy flash, Zombieman, Garou

side note; My… my hands… wont… stop typing… save me…. I’m gonna hibernate after this post

SAITAMA

Shockingly takes very good care of you

he’s a mundane guy that lives alone and needs to take care of himself, so I’d assume he’s gotten his fair share of sick days

He’ll be softer and more careful with his words

He lets you huddle up in his futon, even if he’s a little annoyed cuz now he needs to find somewhere else to sleep,

he still wants you to be close to him so he can look out for you

makes you lotssss of tea and warm meals

and bananas! (Saitama loves bananas)

he knows all the foods to avoid when you’re sick, ex: eggs

he’ll probably spend most of his day sitting next to you while he watches tv or talks to you about something

doesn’t leave the house to do any hero work so he can stay by your side

like I said before, he takes veryyy good care of you until you feel better

GENOS

oh gets really worried

a little bit frantic even, but he doesn’t let it show

does a shit ton of research about your illness/symptoms and how to take care of it

Consults dr kuseno

who of course gives him a lot of advice

he’s hella dotting

Like fr he doesn’t leave your side

despite being an S-class hero, unless its an absolute emergency, he DOES NOT LEAVE YOUR SIDE

Will make sure you take your medication exactly on time

Prepares gourmet type meals for you

Also expect a lot of broth, soup etc etc

Will offer you any form of physical affection you want. Since he’s a cyborg he doesn’t get sick, so will cuddle you all day without complaints if thats what you’d like

He’s constantly checking up on, his cool metal hand pressed gently on your forehead while his mechanic eyes inspect your frame, a small frown etched on his temple.

he’s so cute kms

SPEED OF SOUND SONIC

He knows how to take care of you

he’s gotten sick PLENTY of times, it never lasted long though because his immune system is simply goated

That being said, he’s very… awkward?

he’s concerned and worried, don’t get me wrong, but he’ll probably try to hide it

His words won’t reassure you much but his actions will!

He’ll drop off supplies like medication, food, herbs, or anything else you need, whether you mention it or he decides you need it anyway.

he’ll check up on you a lot, and he’ll try to stay nearby to make sure your safe

but honestly, you having to rely on him when you’re vulnerable makes him feel prideful

he doesn’t admit it, but he kind of likes having you sick, just a tinsy bit

FLASHY FLASH

Oh god

of course he’s terribly worried about you

very aloof about it though

I’ll start with the cons: He’s sort of emotionally distant, and offers very little emotional support, and he won’t try sticking by your side as often as the other characters

Now that that’s out of the way,

He does make sure you have everything you need, and if he’s not with you, probably because he’s doing some hero work, he’ll text you or call very occasionally to ask how you’re doing and if you need anything

If you do mention that you’re feeling worse, he’ll be right by your side in an instant

ZOMBIEMAN

He’s very down-to-earth and calm about it

He won’t fuss over it or worry too much in the slightest

He’ll take good care of you, bringing you meals in bed, drink lots of fluids and getting enough rest

he’ll focus on making you as comfortable as possible too

He’ll leave for hero work every once in awhile, thats unless you’re really sick, then he’ll stay rooted beside you without another word

He’ll spend a lot of time just sitting or laying next to you. If you’re uncomfortably hot and would probably not want him to sleep beside you, he’ll sit on a chair and quietly hold your hand.

If you want him to talk, he’ll talk, and if you don’t, he’ll sit wordlessly without complaints.

he’ll probably crack a joke here or there if the mood is too damp

also, he’ll offer lots of forehead kissess

GAROU

He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s got the spirit! 😍😍

this lone wolf isn’t used to taking care of people, let alone himself

He’ll probably tell you to just walk it off, but his protective instincts will kick in anyway

he’ll try to stay by your side as much as possible

he’ll grumble and act like he’s annoyed, but he really isn’t

he’s a little harsh, probably giving you some weird motivation like “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” or smth

he’s genuinely concerned for you though, just be patient with him, he’s trying

[rotshi]

sonadow brainrot yappings

Sonadow Twitter/Tiktok Takover:

I asked some questions to test my luck but ah well. at least i dont have to look both ways ten times the next time i cross the street. BUT oml what the hell was their problem? The amount of times my jaw dropped ??? Like Ayooo? "Go off king"???? Are you his queen???? "run laps around you"??? You keep it 'clean cut' to woo him????? "shopping partner"?????? You mean a fucking date???? Drawing each other unprompted????? Are you fucking kidding me?????? What the hell am i listening to? These fuckers got me exhausted. Like I woke up, listened to just 3 answers and was ready for a nap. Coffee flavored Ice cream MY HEARTTT!!!!!! (i wonder if i can get some coffee ice cream too) Sonic being like 'of course' when there's a mention of Shadow's caffeine addiction like he doesnt have a chilidog problem. They really are perfect for each other. Im surprised Shadow didn't say anything about it. Nah they did all this fruity shit on their OWN ACCORD! THEY DID IT THEMSELVES they did it themselves they did it themselves. Them influencing each other to the point where their opinions change on a FUCKING DIME: sonic: I dont have an opinion on orbot shadow: he sucks sonic: he sucks shadow: hes the best sonic: hes the best They really are so obsessed with each other it's concerning. If it were up to them they would spend their whole lives 'competing'. And these 'Competitions' 'Races' or whatever feel a lot like excuses to just be around each other. Oooooooooh their endless excuses. what is sonic's problem too? shadow opens up a smidge and the little blue bitch giggles. but i understand things had to be kept light for what theyre doing... i dont think sonic means to be... a little blue bitch. If they were alone i'd like to think sonic would be much more understanding and hear him out. But with possible kiddos listening in they couldn't get too deep into things. If it wasn't a 'Q&A Twitter/Tiktok' thing, and it was just them, I feel like they would talk all day and night. But they were getting to know each other and ahhh if was amazing. Hearing Shadow talk about himself and Sonic wanting to get to know him is the best and sweetest thing and all I was REALLY hoping for. Them just actually just sitting down and talking.

Deep thoughts:

Though I have been wondering what Shadow's beef with Sonic really boils down to. I highly doubt it but maybe Sonic reminds him more of Maria than he even wants to believe? Maybe at times he even sounds like her? Idk ??? How carefree and enthusiastic she was, helping shadow come out of his shell. IDK im a sonic noob !! He probably feels like this about a lot of people!

I can understand that there's more parallels with Maria and Amy than with Sonic and Amy. Putting myself in Shadow's shoes; I have a sister, I love like Shadow loves Maria. We are the best fucking friends. I can talk to her about ANYTHING. We're a team. But when it comes to finding a romantic partner, I dont want to look at my partner and just think of my sister lmao. But I would like a similar feeling. Comfortable, understanding, to have that team work, and able to talk about anything to them. And I think Sonic and Shadow have that if things were different I guess. Although Sonic doesn't always talk Shadow down from a decision, it does seem like they both can come to an agreement. "Two sides of the same coin". Like yeah, Sonic might've not been able to change Shadow's mind on going back to the Ark BUT I feel like Sonic probably wouldn't even try. I feel like he would probably even offer to join him for back up. IDK IDK IDK !!!! IM NEW TO SONIC STILL and all i've really seen of the two is some Game clips, some IDW stuff, and of course Sonic X and Sonic Prime. And some of the things my sister has told me. I got most of my IDW knowledge from her and pintrest ghhghg LiSTEN LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN LISTEN I know sonadow will never be canon, I KNOW !!!! i accept that. Sonamy runs this bitch and Im not even mad and I dont even care. honest to god i do not care. I just like Sonadow and will die on this stupid hill SO HAPPILY. But also it would be so funny if they were to be canon one day. I would lose my fucking mind and throw up. so for my own sanity and health, im glad that theyre never gonna be a thing. im sorry, but im already half way to calling my doctor. i dont think i can handle an official kiss. It's just pure brainrot thinking about how their complicated relationship would work. Love isn't just as simple as 1+1 , this shit has the whole alphabet and the whole fuckin pi in there and it could all add up to 0. I'm solving a math problem for fun BECAUSE IM STUPID AND LIKE TO SUFFER ‼‼‼‼‼‼ But they said the same thing about Bubbline and Korra/Asami and look how that turned out. It would be funny but at the same time reality would probably shatter and sonadow would have to save it again- like my profile says, Im gay and like gay things. let me perish.

I'm honestly the biggest yapper. I go quiet, think about shit, and open up like a shaken up soda can.

TLDR; sonadow takeover made me explode

[mama-qwerty]

How do you think Knuckles would react the first time he sees his reflection in a mirror?

Maybe kinda like this.

This is mainline Knux, if that's not clear.

~~~~~

Knuckles stood in the middle of the store, the sounds of the other customers and soft music playing on the speakers overhead falling away.

He stared at the echidna in the mirror.

It was the first time he’d seen a living one with his own eyes.

His own reflection.

He’d caught glimpses of his image back on Angel Island over the years. In ponds, or the surface of the Master Emerald. But it was never clear. Never solid. It was wavy or slightly transparent or so distorted it hardly counted.

But now, standing in this store where Amy was off somewhere trying on clothes or shopping for something she said she needed but Knuckles didn’t concern himself with, now he was faced with his own reality. His own sense of being.

The first thing he noticed were his eyes. They were purple. None of his friends had purple eyes. They seemed strange even among the other Mobians they saw as they traveled, fighting Eggman. He’d never noticed anyone else with purple eyes. That didn’t mean there weren’t—obviously he hadn’t seen every Mobian on the planet. But the rarity of them struck him.

Was that unique among echidna? All the murals and drawings he’d seen in the texts that survived showed darker, or brown eyes on his ancestors. Maybe the color had faded over the centuries? The ruins were, well, ruined by so many years of being battered by wind and rain. It was possible some colors would have faded or changed in all that time.

He flicked his possibly uniquely colored eyes over his face. His muzzle was similar to the others’, specifically the hedgehogs, although his nose was different. But that didn’t seem so odd—Tails’ nose was different from Sonic’s, and Amy’s, too.

Turning his head, his long quill dreads swung slightly, drawing his gaze. The hedgehogs had quills, too, but they didn’t hang like his. They weren’t clumped like his. And theirs didn’t allow them to glide like his did.

Was that an echidna trait, too? The gliding? He hadn’t found any mention of it in any of the surviving texts. But that wasn’t all that strange, was it? If it was a common trait among his people, why would they write about it? It’d be like writing about the spurs on the back of their hands, or their tails. They all had them, there was no need to make note of it.

At the thought of his tail, he turned, watching as the mirror echidna turned, too. It was odd and a little disconcerting seeing someone move at exactly the same time as you, just in an opposite way.

His kinked tail gave a flick as he looked at it in the mirror. That was odd, too. Many Mobians had tails, but they were usually straight, regardless of their length or degree of fluffiness. His had two distinct bends in it, making it look like a bolt of lightning. He was pretty sure he hadn’t broken it growing up. He’d taken many a good knock as he raised himself up on his island, given himself plenty of injuries. But he thought he’d remember if he’d broken his tail twice. And most of the images in the murals and texts showed echidna wearing traditional garb of the time—long ponchos and robes and the like. Effectively hiding their tails from view, so no help there.

Another oddity. But one for echidna in general, or him in particular?

Turning back forward, he looked at his head. He had no visible ears, which wasn’t so strange, considering that bird and reptilian Mobians didn’t have exposed ears, either. But with his fur, he assumed he was more mammal than either of those species. Most mammals have exposed ears. But he didn’t.

Of course, mammals didn’t tend to lay eggs, either. They gave birth to live young.

Normal for echidna. Normal for him.

But strange to everyone else.

Even his fur color was an oddity. He’d never seen anyone else with such bright red fur. That was normal for echidna, he was sure of it, but it just helped to make him stand out even more from all the other species on this planet. Just made it that more obvious he was alone.

He clenched his fists, and his eyes fell to them. They were massive. Much bigger than the hands of anyone else, comparatively speaking. He held one up, opening the fist. His hand could cover his entire face, muzzle and all. He’d never noticed just how large they were, before.

Dropping it back to his side, he looked at his reflection again. Taking all the elements individually, he was pretty strange. Different. He’d never noticed before.

Laughter caught his attention, and he turned to see a few children playing among the racks of clothes to his left as their mother browsed. The little squirrel kids chased each other around the racks, and when the larger one caught the smaller, the one caught turned and stuck its tongue out at their sibling.

Just a little nub of a tongue, poked through the kid’s lips.

He frowned.

Turning back to the mirror, he poked his own tongue out through his lips. It stretched down past his chin, stopping almost at the white crescent patch on his chest.

That wasn’t normal. He’d never seen any other Mobians with a tongue as long as his.

Again, it wasn’t like he knew every Mobian. It wasn’t exactly something he would ask to see. But still . . .

“Wow.”

He flinched, jerking his head to the left where the squirrel children stood, staring at him as he hung his tongue out.

“Your tongue is really long.”

Knuckles pulled it back in, the tip flicking against his nose in his rush to retract it. His muzzle burned in a blush. “So?”

The kids smiled, their tails giving a flick. “So that’s really cool!”

He paused. “It is?”

The smaller one nodded. “I bet you could get the last bit of peanut butter out of the jar, no problem!”

“And all the ice cream out of a cone before it goes all soft and mushy!” the older added. “I hate that!”

The echidna stared at them. He continued to stare after their mother called them back and moved off to a different section of the store. The kids gave him a little wave as they disappeared around a corner, and he turned back to the mirror.

He looked himself up and down.

Huge hands. No ears. Long tongue. Purple eyes. Kinked tail. Bright red fur.

He was different.

He was echidna.

The last of his kind.

“Hey!” A voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Amy coming toward him, a few bags gripped in her hands. “Sorry that took so long! I was looking for just the right outfit for that event next week. I hope you weren’t too bored.”

He gave the mirror another glance, before turning back. “No. I’m fine.”

She paused, her brow furrowed a bit. “You sure? You look kinda strange.”

Knuckles looked at her for a moment, before turning back to the mirror. He flicked his eyes up and down his image, a little smile on his lips.

“I’m an echidna,” he said, reaching to take her bags from her. “This is how I’m supposed to look.”

She rolled her eyes, a little laugh in her voice. “That’s not what I . . . nevermind. Hey, how about I take you out to lunch for being so patient with me? My treat.”

He nodded as they headed toward the door. “I won’t say no to that. Could we get some ice cream after? There’s something I wanna try.”

“I won’t say no to that!” Amy laughed.

Knuckles nodded, and the two headed out to fill their bellies.

[bimboamyrose]

Unfamiliar - Ch. 16: The Fool

Art: @mmm-asbestos​ ☆ First 2 chapters ☆ Prev. (Ch. 15)  ☆ AO3

Ch. 16 - The Fool

“Did you have an errand in town or something?” Amy sensed his anxiety.

In minutes, the pair were miles away. They quickly found themselves in town, in the center of a populated shopping area. Some passerby who recognized Sonic began rubbernecking as they milled about. 

He shifted his vision around apprehensively as he allowed Amy to step down from his arms. 

“Do you think he’s tailing us? Don’t think it’s the best idea to bring him right back to your place, considering…”

“I don’t think Eggman has anything fast enough to keep up with you” she started. “Oh- well, not anymore. Besides, you’re hungry, remember?” Amy joked. They stood near a selection of restaurants and cafes.

“Oh- yeah!” Sonic exhaled. “We should give Tails a call, though-”

“Let’s not,” Amy blurted out. It wasn’t exactly how she’d planned it, but this was just the opportunity she needed to be alone with Sonic.

“Huh? Why?” 

“I didn’t bring my communicator,” she tried to sound nonchalant.

“I’ll just run over there-”

Amy dashed past him to a glass storefront, gasping theatrically. “I’ve been wanting to check out this new cafe!”

“Well I was thinking to grab Tails and-”

“Let’s sit down inside!” Amy insisted, pushing her way through the front doors.

Not in an arguing mood, Sonic followed inside begrudgingly. 

A hostess escorted them to a small table by a window. It overlooked a fountain in the square. It was past lunchtime, but a few other pairs lingered in neighboring tables; couples gazing dreamily at each other or sharing desserts. Sonic shifted his own eyes to the window. He fidgeted in his chair.

“So,” Amy sighed, “that was… interesting.”

“No kidding.” He didn’t turn to her.

“He… knows about Metal,” she continued.

Sonic spun back to face her gravely.

“Oh, come on, there’s no way he’s listening to us here. Relax!”

“Guess you’re right.” He turned bleakly back to the window. “What do we do?”

Amy was unsure herself. “Maybe… Going to this grand opening thing won’t be so bad?”

“Come on, Ames, that’s an obvious trap.” Sonic leaned an elbow onto the table and turned to her. “And what about your roommate? Eggman kinda owns him.”

“Metal will make the right choice,” she waved off his question.

He looked skeptical. “Why are you so confident about that?”

“‘Cause,” she trailed off, unclear of her own reasoning. “Well, he barely even remembers right now. I’m not worried about him.”

“Eggman wants him back.” Sonic returned with a concerned frown. “He can’t live with you forever.”

“I know,” Amy replied sheepishly. There hadn’t been much thought put into what exactly was going to happen to Metal, or when. Though she understood Metal couldn’t hang around much longer if she got involved with Sonic. 

“What do you think he wants him for?”

“To… build?” Amy shrugged. “It seems like Eggman’s only priority right now.”

The pair each looked somberly to the window until they caught each other’s eyes in the reflections. Amy  pouted, uncertain of what else to say about the situation. Sonic grinned at his friend gingerly and met her face to face.

“We always figure it out,” he said as confidently as he could manage. “We’re a great team, after all.”

The misgiving situation weighed on Sonic, his usual direct approach to problems ineffective in all the uncertainty. But he was nothing if not a pacesetter for his team. It didn’t do them any good for him to be gloomy.

“Yeah,” Amy smiled with a similar hesitance.

A waiter interrupted them with his introduction. The short minutes they spent ordering lavish sounding drinks and pastries calming Amy and Sonic. By the time the waiter retracted the menus, the two had relaxed in their chairs. They smiled more comfortably now, no less uncertain but confident they could tackle the situation as a team. 

“If Metal’s really on our side, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to send the guy back his bot,” Sonic commented between bites of a croissant.

“If he wants to go back.” Amy took a sip from her tea, lifting her eyes to him over the rim, hesitant about what he’d think of the remark.

“Well if you want him on the team,” Sonic shrugged.

“I mean, it’s not about what I want…” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sonic smiled at her knowingly. “Metal can do what he wants. I won’t give him a hard time- if he really isn’t up to something with Eggman.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll talk to him.” Amy was eager to get off the subject. 

“So… what’d you think of the food?”

“Pretty good, I guess.” Sonic took a sip from a tall glass of some kind of local handcrafted soda the waiter had offered as an alternative to tea and coffee. It was the only drink that sounded mildly good to him. “Little fancy, though.”

“Mhm…” 

She reached into her pocket for the all-important card she’d pulled that morning and told herself it was time to broach the subject. Her cheeks felt warm.

“I like it,” she continued, “It’s kinda- I don’t know- romantic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess you could say that.” He took an uncomfortable look around the room, sucking up his drink impetuously. 

Amy brought her cup back to her lips apprehensively. “It’s a cute place for a date. Maybe- maybe we can come back for one sometime?”

A fizzy gulp caused Sonic to cough and clear his throat. Amy blinked at him from behind her teacup, hiding her flushed face, panicking internally.

“I-” he started, pausing to clear his throat a second time. He looked away from her in embarrassment. “I mean, we’re not, uh, dating, though.” A flight response kicked in and he glanced toward the front door.

“But… We could be.” Her words were a demure squeak. “Don’t you think?”

“I’m gonna be heading back to Tails’, I think-”

“Sonic.” Amy set down the cup. She swallowed. “Can we try?”

Sonic steadied himself with a deep breath. It felt wrong to continue dodging the matter. He met her pleading face with a poignant seriousness he didn’t often display.

“Amy, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” he said plainly.

Expecting some hesitancy on his part, she pushed on. “Aw, but we’d be so good together! You even said we make such a great team!”

“We do, but-”

“And we’ve known each other for so long! Think of all that history! We’ve always been there for each other and stayed friends even when I was, well, a little obsessed- But you stuck around and that meant so much to me! And-”

“Stop.” Sonic clanked his glass on the table between them. “All this romantic stuff putting everything at stake- I can’t do it, Amy. Much less with you.”

The response left her taken aback, even more than she could have predicted. “So… it’s a problem because it’s me?”

“Sort-of- I-”

She sat upright, loudly clanking her teacup on the table. “And it’s not just because you don’t like me?” Amy’s eyes began to sting as tears threatened to well up. 

Sensing an outburst, Sonic leaned away nervously. Being on the receiving end of Amy’s anger was never an enviable position to be in. “Uh…”

“Well? What’s so wrong with dating me? Are you still mad about how immature I was back when we met or something?”

“No! Listen, Amy, I don’t like you that way,” he searched for the right words, frantically and unsuccessfully. “And even if I did, I just don’t think I could ever be in that kind of relationship with you. You’re-”

“I’m what?” Angry tears escaped the moment she stood up abruptly. Her chair screeched against the floor loudly, attracting the attention of the diners around them. “I’m not good enough for you somehow?” 

“Amy, that’s not fair,” he scolded. “You know that’s not what I was about to say!”

“What’s not fair is that you always reject me and never tell me why.” She threw her napkin against the table to free her hands, digging through her pocket aggressively. “But I get it now.”

“Amy, come on, please-” Sonic lowered his head in embarrassment as whispers circulated around them. He lowered his voice.

“Please what? Please stop being so loud and obnoxious? Stop being a pest? Stop,” a sob gave her pause, anger melting into heartbreak. “Stop being an annoying little rascal around you?”

The other patrons were staring daggers at them. Sonic melted further into his seat. “This is why I didn’t want to go out,” he muttered. “I was trying to avoid this-”

“Seriously? Ugh!” Amy scoffed, indignant and deeply frustrated. In that moment, that embarrassingly public moment, the only sensible explanation for his rejection were the parts she hated about herself. Her angry outbursts, the insufferable clinginess. Tears continued their path down her cheeks as she dug through her pockets again. Finding the bills she was after, Amy tossed a fistfull onto the table. 

The back of her gloves became smudged with makeup as Amy fiercely wiped at her eyes and cheeks. At least she could manage not to sob her way out. At least she wouldn’t add pathetic to the list of her flaws. “I’m leaving!”

“Amy, wait!” Sonic shot up from his seat. “I didn’t mean that-”

“Don’t follow me!”she cried, asserting herself past the hostess and front door. She felt everyone’s eyes on her back, right until the door shut loudly behind her.

Once she was out of sight, all those eyes briefly turned back to Sonic. The other guests began muttering to each other or turning away with secondhand embarrassment. 

More than the outburst itself, Sonic immediately felt self-conscious about his response to Amy’s distress, letting all those nosy strangers get in the way.

He sighed at the crumpled notes on the table, letting the public shame wash over him. Amid the wadded bills, he spotted a familiar symbol adorning the back of a creased card. Recognizing it as part of Amy’s deck, Sonic picked it from clutter. 

Flipping it on its face, he grimaced at the irony. 

“The fool, huh? Man…”

In the square, Amy stomped through walkways and around pedestrians. Her cloudy sights were set on the nearby bus stop. The last thing she wanted to do was sob on public transportation, but what choice did she have?

She planted her hunched form on the bus stop’s only bench. A man in a pressed suit stood nearby and ogled for a few moments, turning and stepping away only after being met by a snapping, fiery glare from the sad-looking girl. 

“That’s what I thought,” she grumbled, bowing her head back down onto her palms.

For however much she tried, there was no holding back the floodgates. She sat breathing deeply, trying to calm herself. But her eyes spilled over with tears, leaking between her fingers and onto her lap. Her face was red hot. She didn’t even want to think about how she looked. 

Just as she’d resolved to breathe through her woes until she got home, Amy caught a familiar whirring growing closer overhead.

Amy sat up, quickly wiping at her face with the back of her hand. Sitting on her hands to hide her dirty gloves, she spotted him. 

“Metal,” she sniffled, “what are you doing in town?”

Metal floated toward the bench, touching down just next to her. 

She spun away from him, trying desperately to tidy herself up. She was hardly excited to explain her current state.

Sensing something was off, Metal leaned in for a closer look at her.

“Um… a- a-choo!” Amy forced a sneeze. “Sorry, I have some allergies,” she lied. “All the pollen this time of year…”

That was strange to Metal, being that Amy always seemed to have her nose in some kind of spring bouquet. He was about to press further when she sneezed again.

“I don’t have any tissues with me,” Amy blubbered. “It’s sorta embarrassing…” That much was true.

Rather than question it, Metal scanned their surroundings for a solution. He spotted the man who’d been staring at Amy moments earlier once again gawking, this time at both of them. Metal hardly noticed the man’s gaze, however, more preoccupied with the neatly folded pocket square adorning the front of his jacket. He started toward the man.

Realizing the danger, the guy backed away, holding up his palms in surrender. He grinned awkwardly at the menacing robot approaching him to cut the tension.

It didn’t stop Metal. He pointed at the man’s chest, indicating the blazer’s front pocket. He then held up his palm in command.

The man looked around frantically for the possibility that he could be approaching someone else, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. Not understanding Metal’s intentions, the man rustled through his pockets in a panic. 

As Metal closed in on him, the man whipped out his wallet, shakily holding it out and turning his face away from the frightening sight.

Believing himself to be in the middle of a mugging, the man finally pleaded meekly, something about taking the wallet. Metal ignored him and his outstretched hand and instead reached forward towards the cowering man’s chest. The man shut his eyes.

Metal snatched the pocket square out of the man’s jacket pocket and promptly forgot about his existence as he rotated back around to Amy. 

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, holding the crisply folded handkerchief in front of her. She raised a brow, confused at the gesture.

 She turned to him. “Where did you get that?”

As Amy took hold of the pocket square, she caught sight of the man cowering nearby. She gasped in realization.

“Is this his?!”

The man’s eyes snapped open, only just understanding what had occurred. He patted at his chest, realizing he’d been robbed of a mere square of fabric. 

“Sir!” 

Amy shot up, intending to return the stolen accessory, but the man quickly turned and ran off with a squeal as he noticed he was being approached once again.

“Sir! Oh, come on…”

Amy turned her attention back to her friend, shocked at what had just occurred.

“Metal! You can’t just take some random creep’s handkerchief!”

Metal stared at her blankly. He analyzed her flushed cheeks and watery eyes, ignoring her protests. Her gloves were stained front and back with makeup. Was she just crying?

Perturbed, Amy turned away, one again feigning a sneeze. She brought the handkerchief up to her face out of habit. “Well, I guess he’s not gonna be coming back, so…”

Unhappy with the circumstances, Amy wiped away her tears in resignation. The whole scene at least distracted her from her woes- and it was better than blubbering into her damp gloves. She folded the square away into her pocket and looked to Metal.

“Thanks for the tissue, but please promise you won’t go around snatching people’s things,” she managed calmly, 

Metal continued to study her expression. He concluded that she was decidedly composed and he could’ve been mistaken about her emotional state. But now there were these supposed allergies to worry about-

“Metal? Hello?” Amy waved a hand in front of him, vexed by the lack of response. “Are you listening?”

He nodded instinctively. It wasn’t what he was focused on.

“Anyway,” Amy sighed. “Did you have an errand or something?”

Metal shook his head and gestured to her with an open palm, clad in his new gloves.

The gesture confused her for a moment, but quickly understood what he had to say. “Oh… did you come just to get me?” 

He nodded.

Amy tilted her head with some uncertainty. “How did you know I was here…?”

There was no simple way to explain it to her. He didn’t understand it himself, in fact. Just a few minutes prior, he felt an urgent need to come to this precise spot to find her. It was as if he’d received a signal with a command. So, he rushed over, flying faster than he had for as long as he could recall. It felt almost out of his control, his body propelling him to meet her here. An unexplainable urge. A hunch, he’d heard such a feeling called.

Not knowing any other way to answer, he performed his characteristic shrug and reached closer toward her with his still outstretched hand. 

Amy couldn’t help but giggle. His cryptic and limited responses were charming, in a way. 

“Well, thanks for picking me up.” She took his hand. It beated taking the bus.

They took off in what was becoming a typical way for Amy and Metal to travel together. It was even more comfortable now that his pointy claws were under wraps. It felt like floating to Amy, who didn’t even have time to recall her sorrow; they arrived at her front door in no time.

“By the way, Metal, I wanna talk to you about today,” she said as he allowed her down. She reached for her front door, continuing. “I gotta call Tails, too. We should all chat about-”

The door eased open. Amy couldn’t believe her eyes. 

There must not have been a mug, tumbler, or bowl that wasn’t filled with spring blooms. Lilies sprouted out of drinking glasses and a bushel of peonies practically spilled out of her biggest sauce pot. The bushiest of hyacinth stems poked out of the top of an empty wine bottle. Mason jars sat on every inch of her counter filled with daisies, daffodils, and primroses. Every counter, every chair- every conceivable surface of her home was littered with flowers. Unprecedented and breathtaking.

She stood at the door, speechless. Amy forgot all about the conversation she was about to propose, along with her rejection, the stressful mission, and her “allergies.” 

Metal stood back, observing; apprehensive. She’d just had a reaction, and here was every type of flower he could find within a 100-mile radius diffusing pollen into her home. He reached out, intending to hold her back.

But it didn’t stop her. Amy practically sprinted toward the living space, rustling through every vessel, burying her face in as many bunches as she could get her hands on. She gasped and sputtered as she went. 

Radiating joy, she looked back to Metal. “You got all these? For me?” 

Metal nodded at her tensely from the doorway.

Amy erupted with laughter. “It’s amazing!”

Though muddled by it, her positive response put Metal at ease as he followed her inside.

“Thank you!” She twirled around, taking stock of all the bouquets. “Where did you find so many? Look at these peonies, and those hyacinths, and the daffodils, and- and-” 

Her eyes landed on the small bunch of assorted wildflowers she’d received from Sonic that morning. 

“-and…” 

She trailed off, stroking a little blue cornflower from the motley assortment. They sat next to her one other proper vase, stuffed neatly with pink tulips.

Bittersweet tears flooded her eyes. A conflicted sob escaped her as they flowed down into her smile.

Amy’s emotions had overwhelmed her by the time Metal reached her across the room. He took a cautious step back when he realized her cheeks were already soaked.

For however conflicted she felt about the day’s events, Amy was overjoyed at the thoughtful gesture. There was nothing to do but throw her arms around Metal with all the affection she possessed. 

Not anticipating tears, Metal hesitated for a moment. But she clutched and squeezed him with an intensity which he thought could practically crush him. He was as impressed with her strength as he was concerned for her.

Metal wrapped an arm around her slowly. Carefully, he reached a finger to her cheek, catching a tear as it spilled from her eye. 

She sniffled, breathing deeply. “Oh, me? Don’t worry,” Amy turned her damp eyes up to him, still beaming. She laughed. “It’s just allergies!”

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

Me in may: hehe I will have so much time to myself this summer i will be able to write sooo much

Me in june: (takes the hardest class I've ever done in my entire life)

Me in july: (builds an entire kitchen)

Me in aug: (gets married)

Me in sep: (picks up twice as many responsibilities at work because the assistant quit)

but hey I got married and we later went to LA to see Sonic Symphony! So it's been a good summer/autumn so far. Other than you know. working 6 days a week. eugh

[freddleafton12345-blog]

Small nsfw fic w/ Knuckles mwehehe (reader is female and can be mobian, or human!)

You felt the waves of pleasure roll across your body as your partner lapped at your lower regions, as if he was starving.

"Ahh~! Knuckles slow down-" You firmly gripped his quills, feeling the soft yet rough texture on your fingers.

He paused his actions, looking up at you with concern in his magenta eyes. "My dear, are you in pain?"

"N-no but you're going a bit hard. Try not to use your teeth, silly.." you panted with a hazy smile across your face.

"As you command, my queen." The warrior gave you a nod, then he continued to eat you out. He guided your legs to rest over his shoulders, and he gripped your waist.

Your moans only got louder as you felt your high approaching quickly. This felt way too good. And you couldn't be happier to lose your virginity to your partner.

"Fuck~! I'm close~! More, give me more~!!" You screamed.

Knuckles pulled his muzzle away from your slick folds and licked his lips. "If that's what you truly want, I'll gladly oblige." He smirked a bit.

You helped him align his huge member between your folds, then you looked up at him.

Sensing your hesitation, the Echidna leaned down and put a gentle kiss upon your forehead. "Hush now, my dear. I'll make you feel all the pleasure you desire."

Once you gave him a small nod, he gently pushed himself into you with a low groan, gritting his teeth. You moaned and your eyes rolled back as the feeling of ecstacy grew.

The moment he began thrusting is when you lost it, wrapping your arms around him to bring him closer as you moaned like a whole.

"Ahh..my l-love..your body is a magnificent temple!" Knuckles groaned and held you closely, careful not to crush you with his gloved hands.

"Feels g-good! So g-!" You managed to get a hold of yourself when you heard the low sound of the garage door opening.

Oh God's, it was Tom and Maddie! They must've brought the boys home from dinning out earlier than they said they would!

"Knuckles~! Hurry-" You didn't want to delay your release, and you didn't want the family seeing or hearing this.

With a firm nod, the warrior trusted faster and harder, just bringing you to your climax as the front doors opened.

"AYOOO! WE'RE BACK! AND TAILS AND I BROUGHT LEFTOVERS!" Sonic proudly announced, having a small box in his hands.

Maddie looked around the living room, petting Ozzy once before looking at Tom. "Do you think they're in the basement?"

Tom perked up and looked up the stairs. "I can hear noises. I'll go tell them we've got leftovers."

When Tom opened the door to the bedroom, he looked at Knuckles, then you.

"Ah, Mr. Wachowski! You have returned from your journey so soon?" The Echidna had you snuggled against him with the TV displaying some random nature show.

Thank GOD you both managed to fix the bed sheets so they looked decent enough. Otherwise you'd so be dead-

"Yeah, the boys really wanted to get back home for the baseball game tonight. But we brought leftovers, so I thought you two would be interested!"

You nodded and got up, having your comfy clothes on. But when you tried walking, you fell on your face.

"Oh, y/n! Are you okay?" The police officer helped you onto your feet, then he caught sight of the hickeys on your neck. "...um-"

You blushed and dusted yourself off. "Got into a fight with Ozzy! He bit me a few times! But I'm okay!"

The Echidna nodded to back up your point. "I managed to step in and separate them before it got out on control. I will go join the Fox, Hedgehog, and pretzel woman." He took his leave.

Tom shook his head with a knowing smirk, then handed you a turtleneck sweater. "Hide those marks with this, then come join us, okay?"

You nodded in embarrassment.

But it felt good, so you scored a win!

[writingtraumaforever]

A Courtship Christmas: Chapter 4

Notes: Hello! With the Sonadow tag booming right now after the movie, we have a LOT of new readers! I want to welcome everyone along for the ride, and thank you all for joining! Hope you all enjoy this chapter and check out my blog’s writing masterpost for more of my work! Also a quick reminder that this series was started before the movie came out, so there will be minor inconsistencies with the canon movies but nothing too major.

Summary: Shadow faces the ghost of Christmas past.

Courtship Series Masterpost!

Link to my AO3!

Start:

Sonic can’t find his voice. He can’t find his sanity, actually, because this is insane!! Maria can’t be alive! She died! It’s part of Shadow’s whole angsty backstory that made him into the anti-hero he is today! Sonic is pretty sure he’d know if he got such a big plot point like that wrong. And yet here standing before him is a girl with long, blonde hair, big, blue eyes, and that same wide, bright smile Sonic has seen in all the pictures. She’s wearing a red Christmas sweater and some matching ear muffs instead of her typical headband and rainbow colored sweater— but it’s still her, right???

“Are you okay??” she quirks a brow at him, her face turning to one of slight amusement but also one of concern, “You look a little.. green.”

Her accent is definitely Polish which Sonic doesn’t remember Shadow mentioning at any point. He assumed she just sounded like Gerald when she talked.

It takes Sonic way too long to answer, but he eventually does. And when he does, it maybe overcompensates a bit and is way too energetic.

“That’s funny!” Sonic practically yells with the widest smile he’s ever mustered, “Because I’m usually told I’m blue! Ha!”

She flinches slightly at his suddenly louder voice, but her smile remains as she gives a little giggle, “You’re weird..”

Sonic snorts at this, blushing a bit as he realizes that yeah, he’s being weird. He should stop.

“Well I am alien, in my defense,” Sonic smirks, leaning against the door by pulling it closer to him, so that she can’t see inside.

“That’s true,” she grins, tilting her head at him, “So what’s your name then?”

“I’m Sonic,” he answers quickly, “I came with Shadow.”

Saying he’s his boyfriend still feels so bold, and with his nerves already worked up currently, he may throw up if he adds to that.

“I assumed,” she giggles, rocking back and forth from her toes to her heels with her hands clasped behind her back and her eyes watching him filled with wonder and curiosity, “You two look a lot alike from what I’ve seen in pictures of him.”

“We get that a lot,” Sonic chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and finding himself sweating a bit. Is it hot in here?? It’s definitely hot in here, right.

“So he’s here then??” she asks, her brows knitting with a hopeful smile, “Sorry if I sound pushy, I’ve just been dying to meet him.”

Very poor choice of words there, kiddo.

“Uhh..,” Sonic clears his throat, thinking on his feet before answering as casually as he can, “He’s kinda napping, right now.. we’re from a different time zone and all, so he’s pretty beat. Didn’t get much sleep last night, and we got up pretty early to get here.”

“Oh,” her smile falters only slightly, but she stays upbeat for the most part, “That’s okay! I can wait then. Wouldn’t want him grumpy from being tired. Though, he’s pretty grumpy in general, right??” She giggles at this, talking like she knows him when she clearly doesn’t.. or does she?

“Right..,” Sonic says with an uneasy and lopsided smile, “..I’m sorry, I’ll tell him you stopped by. What was your name again??..”

”Where are my manners?” she rolls her eyes at herself, holding her hand out to him for him to shake, “I’m Marzia. Marzia Robotnik.”

“Marzia,” Sonic repeats slowly, eyes never leaving her as he reaches a hand out to shake hers.

That’s.. real close to Maria.

None of this is sitting great with him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he smiles nonetheless.

“You too, Sonic,” she grins, nodding her head as she retracts her hand from his, “You both will be at dinner, right??”

“Uhh- Hope to be!” he grins nervously, not offering any promises.

“Good,” she giggles before backing up, “I’ll let you two settle in and rest. Please tell Shadow I am so glad he’s here when he wakes up!”

“I will!”

And with that, she’s running off down the hall again, Mr. Tanaka waiting for her at the end of the hall with a smile on his face as he places a hand on her head and escorts her back down the stairs.

Sonic waits until they’re out of sight before he’s quickly closing the door and pressing his back to it, eyes wide and staring at Shadow now who is looking right back at him from the bed with fear in his eyes.

“Who was it??” Shadow asks before Sonic even has a chance to think of how to explain what he just saw, let alone tell Shadow, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost..”

“Well,” Sonic chokes out in an unusually high-pitched tone, clearing his throat before trying again, “It-… I-… dude, I’m not sure what I just saw..”

“What do you mean??” Shadow asks with knitted brows, more anxiety seeming to pour into his tone as his fingers curl into the comforter on either side of himself.

“Okay— let’s just breathe a second,” Sonic offers, walking towards Shadow again, but Shadow isn’t having it.

“Sonic..”

“We don’t know anything for certain, and we’ve seen some crazy shit— but not that crazy, right??”

“Sonic, what is it???”

“You’re stressed out as is, Shadow, and I don’t wanna make things worse because I’m misunderstanding something or jumping to conclusions—“

Shadow grabs Sonic by his wrists when Sonic is close enough and clutches them together in front of him, the both of them meeting eyes and Sonic’s heart stops. Shadow looks so scared.. so vulnerable.. and so lost.

“Just tell me.”

Sonic swallows.

“I think I just talked to Maria..”

Shadow blinks, big, brown eyes laced with crimson searching Sonic’s own emerald ones as if looking for some sort of cruel joke or a hint of sarcasm that he’s not catching. Shadow never has been the best at catching onto vocal cues when it comes to making jokes or being witty, but he’s certain he’s missing nothing here. Sonic is serious. Very much so. He looks just as shocked and scared as Shadow imagines he himself looks..

“But… but that’s impossible, right?? I mean, maybe I’m missing something here—“

Sonic can’t even finish the thought before Shadow is gone. The sound of air shoes kicking on and then a gust of wind, and Sonic is left standing at an empty bedside with Shadow having fled out the door.

“Fuck,” Sonic curses in a whisper before speeding off after him.

He should’ve worded that better. He shouldn’t have dropped it on him like that.

Shadow is racing down the stairs already, sliding down the railing with zero care to being a good guest at this point.

How could Maria be here???

How could she be alive???

Perhaps they managed to save her after the GUN invasion, and he was none the wiser??? Or maybe they cloned her??? They’re Robotnik’s, he doesn’t know what sort of mad scientry they’re capable of, but cloning isn’t far off the realm of possibilities with everything Shadow himself has endured. Or maybe time travel?? Or dimension hopping?? With chaos being experimented with, it’s quite possible—

He skids to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, his ear twitching at the sound of voices in the library..

“Shadow, wait—!”

He hears Sonic hiss from the top of the stairs, but he ignores this. His eyes are wide as he quickly steps to the doorway of the library and looks for the hosts of the voices.

There’s a group of children there. Two boys and a girl. Shadow hardly notices the boys, though. His eyes are locked wide and far too full of hope to be hesitant on the girl..

She’s facing away from him. Her hair long, about to her waist. Blonde. She’s about the same height Maria was.. same build. She’s got her hands on her hips and is scolding the two boys currently— all the same spunk and defensiveness as Maria can be seen from that alone.

He approaches her quietly. Slowly. Carefully.

His heart is pounding so hard in his ears, he can barely hear what she’s saying.

“He’s sleeping!” her voice sounds like Maria’s, just a different accent.. maybe she picked it up from living here?? “You two are going to just have to be patient and let him rest! He’s not a toy, he’s a person! He doesn’t have to tend to your beck and call just because you want to see him right now!”

“Uhh, Marzia?” one of the boys says, interrupting her tantrum with wide eyes staring at Shadow approaching from behind her.

“Don’t interrupt me!”

“Look..”

She pauses at this, following the boy’s pointing finger behind her and turning to find Shadow standing there a few feet before her..

Her eyes widen down at him..

Her big… brown eyes..

They’re… brown..

Sonic stands in the doorway watching, his own eyes wide in concern and fear at the sight before him.

This is either going to be really good or really bad..

“You’re awake,” she smiles, her eyes twinkling from the reflection of the fireplace as she grins at him.

Shadow just stares..

She looks just like her. Freckles speckled across her face— Shadow use to count them.. he wonders if this girl has ninety-eight, too. Same button nose. Same blonde hair that was unruly from antics she had been up to, never one to sit still..

Same pale skin..

But there’s differences..

The mole under her lower lip on the right side is missing. Her eyebrows are darker in color, making her face appear less soft than Maria’s had been and more defined..

and her eyes…

The cool, clear blue eyes that reminded him of the night sky right as the stars began to appear in it…

They were replaced by brown pools of mud. Like chocolate, or a deep caramel.

Not familiar.

Not hers.. not his Maria’s..

“I..,” Shadow tries, but his voice fails him. His hand twitches at his side as if to reach but he doesn’t. Instead it clenches there, shaky..

Sonic watches helplessly from the doorway, his eyes folding back and his tail sagging behind him as his frown becomes more prominent..

It’s not her..

Shadow is quiet for too long.

The boys behind the Maria-look-alike grow impatient with him.

“Come on then,” one spats with a huff, “Talk!”

Shadow flinches at the sudden snap from his daze, blinking his glossy eyes over to the red-headed boy who appears a year or two older than the girl.

“Yeah, come on! Show us what makes you so special!” the youngest of the children speaks, strawberry blond and full of freckles. He too seems impatient with Shadow.

“Stop being so rude!” the girl snaps at the two, turning to them again to stomp her foot at them, “You’re going to scare him off!”

Shadow stumbles back a few steps, feeling like the world is spinning and his heart is failing. Sonic takes a few steps forward to meet him halfway, catching Shadow in his arms with his chest pressed to the hybrid’s back and his arms hugged up under his partner’s.

“Shads, easy..,” he whispers, brows knit up tight as he presses his hand in Shadow’s chest fur to rest over his heart, “I’m right here. You’re okay. Just breathe—“

“Don’t touch me—“ Shadow twists in his arms, feeling incredibly overwhelmed and overstimulated as the three children bicker before him. Managing to jerk from Sonic’s hold, he turns to rush out of the room only to be halted in his tracks by a woman now standing in the doorway of the library.

Terra.

He recognizes her from photos on file Rouge had collected.

“I see the children have made their introduction. Rather rudely, if I may add,” her voice comes loud and stern, her eyes glaring at the three bickering kids in front of the fireplace.

They each three stop immediately, wide eyes staring at her before they all apologize in unison, “Sorry, Grandma Terra..”

The two boys look grouchy about their apology, but the girl seems genuine. Disappointed in herself.

“Mm..,” the woman sighs before returning her gaze to Shadow, “I too apologize. I.. didn’t want you to be introduced this way. I had hoped to greet you for myself beforehand..”

Shadow stares up at her, still feeling dazed and dizzy but trying his best to regain his composure and not make a scene by rushing out now that his host was here.

He doesn’t speak. So Terra continues.

“Would you and your friend care to join me in my office?” she tilts her head at him, Shadow staying quiet a moment before nodding a bit reluctantly.

She nods in return before turning to walk down the hall, “Follow me, then.”

Shadow spares a glance back to Sonic who is watching him as if for permission to join them. Shadow merely offers an apologetic knit of his brows for his momentary outburst towards him only moments ago before reaching a hand out for Sonic’s.

Sonic takes it without a thought, following him down the hall behind their host.

She isn’t at all what Sonic had been expecting. Perhaps he had been expecting someone older and more brittle. This woman was nothing like that.

She did in fact look like a grown up Maria. But her hair was more strawberry than blonde, a few gray streaks in it that had come from age. It was pinned up neatly on top of her head, her skin resembling porcelain without freckle or blemish, but having a few wrinkles in the corners of her eyes and around her lips. She wore a nice, red top that had a bow on one shoulder, and a formal black skirt with black boots to match. She looked very professional, very put-together, very classy.

She was intimidating… but not scary.

“I want to apologize again for not being able to greet you,” she sighs once they reach a closed door, opening it and turning on the light to reveal the warm and comfortable office inside, “I was tending to some business with my lawyer with GUN, and—“

She pauses when Shadow’s eyes meet hers, sighing quietly through her nose before offering a small smile, “None of that is why you’re here, though. So let’s not talk about that, hm?”

Shadow merely nods a bit before walking himself and Sonic into the office, Terra closing the door behind them.

“Now for proper introductions,” she says with a softer smile, “I’m Terra Robotnik,” she holds her hand out. Shadow stares at it a bit too long since he’s holding onto Sonic’s hand with his dominant one for comfort, so Sonic quickly shakes it himself with his own free hand.

“I’m Sonic,” Sonic introduces, gaining the attention of the woman, “Shadow RSVP’d a plus one? That’s me.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Sonic,” she nods politely, “I trust your travels here were safe?”

“Oh yeah. Nothing like a good ‘ole warp ring to get ya places quick!”

She blinks at this before offering a breathy little laugh, “Right, um-… And you’re Shadow..”

Her gaze returns to Shadow who still looks pretty out of it. His eyes are foggy and his cheeks look paler than normal.

He doesn’t shake her hand.

Instead, he looks right at this woman after a long moment of staring at nothing and speaks in a rattled and raspy voice, “Who is she??”

Sonic’s brows knit at this, squeezing Shadow’s hand a bit tighter in his own to try and calm his nerves some. But Shadow doesn’t seem too reachable at the moment. He needs answers. Explanations. And he needs them now.

The woman seems to know immediately what he’s talking about, sighing before retracting her extended hand towards him and moving to her desk,

“She would be my daughter.”

She opens the top drawer of her desk to pull out an album, opening it up to pull out one photo from the front and another from the back.

“Her name is Marzia,” she explains softly, sliding the two photos across her desk for Shadow to see for himself. He steps over to investigate the two.. one being of Maria before she passed. Another of the strange girl from the library.. they’re nearly identical.

“It’s.. uncanny, yes?” Terra chuckles breathlessly, her smile bittersweet, “…I never knew my sister. She was gone before I was born,” she explains softly, her eyes lifting to look at Shadow who is now picking the photos up to look at the more closely. Compare the two.

“But I looked at her photos all the time growing up.. watched the old home videos. And as my darling daughter grew older, it was undeniable that she took after her deceased aunt..”

“How old is she?” Shadow asks quietly, eyes never leaving the photos.

“She’ll be twelve next year,” she answers quietly, “I had her late in life—“

“Where is her father??”

“There isn’t one,” and this gains Shadow’s attention, curious eyes looking up at her now, Sonic taking the chance to step closer and look at the photos for himself. It is uncanny..

“I had my eggs frozen when I was thirty..,” she explained, “As you can imagine, family was a difficult thing for me growing up. My parents thought having me would fill the void in their life that Maria had left.. sadly, they never were the same.. divorce was inevitable. I blamed myself for not being good enough. For not being more like my sister.. I idolized her for a long time.. and then I hated her.. now I simply miss her.. which is silly because I never met her,” she admits with a little knit in her brow, Shadow looking at her with a purposely neutral expression. Void of emotion..

“..I never married. I dove myself into my studies, my work. I didn’t have time for trivial things like relationships or love.., but as I got older, I thought that perhaps I’d regret this one day. Life has a way of making you question the present constantly and always look to the future by studying your past, you see. So I had my eggs frozen. It was the best decision I ever made, too. The father was simply an anonymous sperm donor that I selected based on his file, and the egg grew until the embryo was ready to be implanted in surrogate’s uterus— carrying her myself at my age was a risk I didn’t want to take.. nine months later, I had my baby girl. And it was like fate had mocked me with how much she resembled my sister. But never once did I not love that girl.. not for a moment.”

Shadow listens in silence, his eyes staring straight into Terra’s as if to tell if there’s any deception behind them. He sees none. Just a woman who has endured a lot in her lifetime.

“…Once I had her, family became far more important to me,” she explains with a sigh, “I reached out to family I hadn’t in years. My first cousins..”

This gains Sonic’s attention, eyes snapping up to her as he speaks without really meaning to, “Even—“

“Ivo, yes,” she admits with a roll of her eyes, “He was a Robotnik scorned by our grandfather’s sins, too. I thought perhaps he’d understand.. instead, it seems he’s followed in his footsteps.”

Sonic snorts, “That’s an understatement.”

“Indeed,” she shrugs, “It’s a shame. I think if he had been loved properly and seen how he could be happy with a family, things may have been different for him..”

It’s an odd thought. A world without Eggman.

Would Shadow even be here awake now without him?? Or would Knuckles and Tails be part of the Wachowski’s???

Sonic doesn’t know, but he doesn’t wanna think about it either.

So he doesn’t.

“What made you reach out to me??” Shadow asks the inevitable question now, “…Why now??..”

The woman takes a long breath, moving to pull out her office chair and take a seat at her desk with a heavy sigh. She gestures to the two seat in front of the desk for Sonic and Shadow to sit as well, Sonic being the first to do so and Shadow watching him before reluctantly doing the same.

They hold hands.

The woman looks at their joined hands and seems to take note of this but says nothing of it.

“..For a long time, GUN lied about what happened on the ARK,” she explains, her eyes staring blankly at the door now, “Maria was sick.. my parents had done all they could for her, but there was nothing that could be done here on earth.. Gerald Robotnik swore he could cure her if he could only take her to the ARK. My parents weren’t so easily persuaded, having little faith in Gerald’s research.. so he took her by force.”

Shadow takes note she calls him ‘Gerald’. Not Grandfather.

He also takes note that Maria was taken by force.. something he wasn’t aware of.

“GUN showed up at my parents’ doorstep. There was no arrest or guns drawn, but it was made very clear that this wasn’t optional. Maria was part of Gerald’s bargaining with GUN to work for them. So they took her. She was none-the-wiser, my parents not wanting her to be scared. They knew Gerald was insane, but he’d never hurt her. He loved her far too much. So they packed her things and told her they’d write her letters and send her care packages every month that GUN sent supplies to the station.. and she left with Gerald under the guise that this would cure her. That she’d come home..”

Terra takes another deep breath, blinking away some mist from her eyes as they fall on Shadow, “…We both know she never did..”

Shadow doesn’t say anything, brows furrowed a bit as he looks at her. Sonic squeezes his hand a bit tighter..

“…For many years, my family was told that it was Gerald’s experiment that had gone rogue. That Gerald had dealt with forces far beyond his control and paid the price.. we thought—,” her voice cracks, brows furrowed as she stares down at her desk with a mix of loss and anger. She blinks a few tears away, shame in her eyes as she looks at Shadow, “We thought you had killed her…”

Shadow’s brows knit a bit at that, his jaw tight and his fingers clutching around Sonic’s tight.

The very idea he’d ever bring harm to Maria in any way.. it made him sick.

It was moments like these that his faith in GUN dwindled. That it became hard to see the good in them. How they’ve grown, how they’ve changed for the better.. how Shadow is doing good with them now..

“..I was brought into this world believing that Project Shadow had taken my older sister from me,” she whispers quietly, leaning across her desk to pick up the picture of Maria and look at it, “…My hate for you ran deep.. the very thing that was meant to cure my sister… destroyed her..”

Shadow’s ears twitch back at that, Sonic’s brows furrowing at her poor choice of words..

He doesn’t like this.. doesn’t like how little Shadow’s feelings are being taken into consideration with all of this. He was invited here with no explanation. He was bombarded with a Maria look-a-like with no warning. And now he was being put through the emotional ringer and for what??

So the Robotniks could get some closure and feel better about themselves??? Shadow wasn’t their charity case. He wasn’t there to make them look good or feel redeemed in some way.

He went through more than any of them..

Sonic’s quills rise a bit in defense..

“But when the Project Shadow’s files were leaked to the public.. I discovered the truth,” she continues, looking to Shadow then, “…She was taken from both of us.”

Shadow doesn’t speak. Doesn’t feel he had the right to.. he had failed this family in so many ways.. sure, he hadn’t been the one to kill her. But he hadn’t cured her, either..

It was his creation that led to her demise..

“…So here I am, Shadow,” she uses his name, at least, “…trying. I’m trying to understand my sister,” a tear falls from her eyes now, her voice shaking and her hand holding Maria’s picture trembling. “I’m trying to understand why she loved you so much.. why she was willing to—“ her voice cracks, swallowing as she tries again, “to sacrifice her precious life for yours.. the life of a simply little hedgehog that talks.. what makes your life so much more important than hers.. that she’d give hers up instead of come back home to us all—“

“Okay, that’s enough,” Sonic rises from his chair, Shadow flinching at the movement. He was shaking. Quivering. He looks like he’s lived the horrors of the ARK all over again, like he’s reliving it all and left scared and paralyzed by what has happened. Sonic won’t stand for it.

He moves to stand between Shadow and Terra, his brows furrowed and jaw locked, “He’s not here to help you understand. He was here looking for family. If you’re too blind to see what makes Shadow so special— to see what made Maria so special??? That’s on you.”

“Sonic..,” Shadow’s voice comes quiet and weak behind him.

“You obviously know nothing about your sister if you don’t know that it wasn’t Shadow, it was just her being her. You don’t deserve answers if you can’t even see them when they’re right in front of you.”

“Sonic..”

“How dare you??? Invite him here for what— just to make you feel less like your grandfather??”

“Sonic!”

Sonic stops at that, turning to look at Shadow and see him looking up with a pleading expression.

Sonic’s quills lower a bit at this, his eyes softening slightly at the sight of his distressed boyfriend..

Then he looks back to Terra with a glare, her eyes locked wide on his as well.

“…We’re out of here.”

He grabs Shadow’s hand and drags him up out of his chair, pulling him to the door without giving him much of an option.

Shadow looks back at Terra as he’s pulled along, watching her wide and teary eyes as the door is opened. When he turns back around, he sees that little girl sitting there outside the door. She’s knocked back— having been listening with her ear pressed to the door.

Marzia.

Sonic doesn’t pay her much mind, stepping around her with Shadow’s hand still in his and a mumbled “Sorry, kid.”

Shadow’s eyes watch her as they step over her, her own eyes big and round and distressed by their exit.

“Wait!” she calls, trying to scramble to her feet now to catch up to the two, “Wait— Shadow!”

Sonic ignores this, tugging Shadow still. He won’t allow this. He won’t sit by while they all use Shadow like this and leave Shadow with nothing but an even more broken heart and heavier guilt. He won’t.

Shadow’s head turns to Sonic, pulling his hand from Sonic’s but Sonic snatches his wrist instead.

“Sonic, wait—“

“We’re leaving, Shadow.”

Shadow swallows hard, head turning back to the little girl as she manages to get to her feet and chase them a few steps— then she falls back to the ground with a little grunt, her breathing sounding wheezy and ragged..

Her hand reaches out to him weakly.

“Shadow..”

Shadow’s eyes widen at this, his mind flashing back to a similar image where Maria had been lying bloody on the ground reaching for him..

‘Sayonara, Shadow the Hedgehog..‘

His hand jerks from Sonic’s, Sonic spinning around but not able to stop him before he’s rushing down the hall back to the little girl.

Crouching down beside her in an instant, his hand moves to hold hers and help her sit up a bit, his other hand rubbing her back in slow circles as she looks up at him with teary, brown eyes.

“Breathe..,” he whispers quietly, brows knit up tight as he demonstrates by breathing in slowly through his nose and then out his mouth. Deep and deliberate.

She nods, sniffling a bit before she slowly takes a deep breath in and then blows it out as he demonstrates..

“Do you have an inhaler?” he asks, his voice so soft and gentle and nearly a wisp in the wind with how quiet it is.

She nods, still trying to match his breathing as she points a bit shaky towards the stairs, “I-in my room..”

Shadow’s eyes turn to Sonic then, looking at him in silent desperation.

And as much as Sonic hates the reason they’re here, this kid is innocent. And Shadow… Shadow needs this, right now. To help her..

So he doesn’t hesitate to dash up the stairs and find the girls room, searching and finding her inhaler in a matter of seconds before returning to the hall to hand it to Shadow who then hands it to her..

Sonic has never seen this side of Shadow.. the kind to mend.. heal..

She takes a couple of deep breaths of the inhaler, her breathing evening out now. Sonic’s eyes drift up to see Terra standing in the doorway with wide eyes, watching the entire thing. His brows furrow a bit at her, but then return to Shadow and the little girl..

Shadow’s eyes are on her. Only on her. Like she’s the only thing in the world at that moment..

Yeah..

They’re not going home, are they.

[tigergirltail]

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 6 - MONTH 6 - THE CAGED BIRD

CONTENT WARNING - This chapter contains mentions of medical injections, bigotry, child abuse, self-harm, and attempted suicide. Reader beware.

FIRST - PREV - NEXT

I had my six-month check-up with Dr. Erian, an online appointment just like last time. No particular medical issues this time around, bloodwork checks out, genetic reconfiguration is stable. We can't do a thorough physical exam over the internet, but according to him, I am "the very picture of health, by the standards of your species". I'm a bit curious what standards those are, given that I have yet to hear about any other tiger therians. Hopefully there ARE standards, and he's not just giving me empty reassurance.

We also spent some time going over dietary concerns - am I getting enough meat, am I reducing my fruit and grain intake appropriately, that sort of thing. I assured him that I'm eating real meat with every meal, just like the booklet said to, I've been limiting fruits and vegetables, and I don't even have an appetite for anything grain-based. I'll probably miss what fresh bread used to be like, but I just can't bring myself to want it anymore. Apparently not every therian is following the diet they're supposed to, but the doctor didn't have any concerns about me, "assuming your answers are honest, Miss Alexis". What, does he think I'm about to lie to the one person who knows how species transition works?

At one point during the discussion I thought I heard him mutter something about a "foolish undine", but I must have misheard. Undines are water spirits or elementals or something - a fictional creature. Then again, so are dragons and lamias, but the first well-known humanity remover was a dragon-girl, and I've been hanging out and playing online games with a lamia. At this point you could tell me there's someone out there transitioning to Sonic the Hedgehog, and I might actually believe you.

I've hit the point of full fur coverage, so no more awkward bald patches! Unfortunately, this does mean I need to start taking my estrogen in a form other than skin patches, because there's nowhere left to stick them. After a lot of agonizing over the pros and cons of potential liver damage from pills versus facing down my needle phobia, I opted to ask my endocrinologist to train me on injectable estrogen. She made a somewhat tone-deaf joke about not being trained in veterinary medicine, but she was otherwise very patient and reassuring, so I let it slide.

I do want to state for the record that I am a big scary tiger who's not afraid of anything and I only cried a little bit the first time I injected myself.

My ears are definitely becoming much more sensitive - I keep hearing really annoying high-pitch noises when I'm around heavy machinery, and that happens a lot more often than you might think. My office at work is right next to an elevator, and whenever someone uses it, the motor lets out this gods-awful whine and I have to plug my ears until it stops moving again. My local grocery also has a few freezer units that give off a similar sound, constantly, and I've had to start wearing earplugs to go on food runs.

As for visual changes, I can see in the dark reasonably well, but I've also started getting headaches and discomfort when I squint or try too hard to focus on something. I guess I should probably just… try to not do that. I have spent a significant portion of my life staring at a screen, so my eyes probably aren't in the best shape overall.

Now that my physical changes are pretty much done, most people just assume I'm wearing a very intricate costume - at least, until they get close. No costume has mouth movements or facial expressions this realistic, and believe me, our top furry scientists and engineers have tried.

At one point there's a conversation on the humanity removal chat server about the political climates in our respective areas towards therians. Obviously, a lot of the right-wing talking-head shows have been shitting themselves inside-out about the idea of people giving up their humanity, especially the ones with a more religious bent. "How dare these freaks forsake God's holy image", "Humanity is a divine blessing and must be cherished", "We call on the one true God to smite these worshippers of the Beast", and so on like that. Excuse you, but I've never worshipped your discriminatory god and I'm not beholden to their 'holy image'. My goddess is one of beauty, love, and artistic expression, and the entire reason I'm changing myself in the first place is as an expression of self-love.

Most of us agree, though, that the absolute worst of the 24-hour news cycle doesn't have anything to do with how regular everyday people see us. In fact, we're rare enough still that a decent proportion of people don't believe we exist - they think that tabloids made us up to sell more copies. I don't know if that's better in terms of acceptance, but I'll take it over a torch-and-pitchfork mob running me out of town.

The conversation shifts to us sharing our locations, those of us who are comfortable doing so at least. We generally keep it vague, but most of us are at least alright with saying which country we live in. I narrow it down to a province for myself, mainly because my province alone is larger than some countries, but also because once we start to get noticed by the media and the world, there'll probably be no stopping our locations becoming known.

It's also going to get interesting if anyone starts asking how most of us are going to the same medical provider when he requires that consultations be done in person, or why the location he operates out of - Hyper City - doesn't appear on any map. Truthfully, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it myself.

The next day, I get a private message from the girl with the corvid avatar:

"Hey I saw your post when everybody was talking about where they are! I live there too!! We should totally meet up sometime ^v^"

…This is a dilemma. Obviously, I'm worried about the optics of a teenager meeting up with a 39-year-old she met on the internet, there's all kinds of ways that could be taken the wrong way, but dammit, I still don't know anyone like me in this part of the world, who knows if I'll ever find anyone else who's local? …I really want to try, but I should at least give her a warning, and a judgement-free out.

"Uhh I get wanting to meet up, but I'm more than 20 years older than you, would your parents be anywhere near cool with that??"

There's a long pause. I see her start and stop typing multiple times. I'm worried I've upset her. Eventually, she sends another message:

"I don't give a fuck what they think"

I'm taken aback by the harshness of the reply, and don't manage to type anything before another series of messages pops up:

"and they don't care what I do anyway so it's whatever" "if anyone asks I'll just say you're my weird aunt" "you have no idea how bad I want to meet someone who GETS IT" "humanity is a curse and I want to be free"

'I want to be free'. Something about that phrase hits somewhere deep, in a source of pain that never fully healed. Freedom from pain, freedom from self-hatred, freedom at any cost, even if it meant my life. I remember how that desire for freedom feels.

The only thing I can think to do next is ask if she's okay. Her response is to ask if I can go on a voice call. I'm not sure if she wants some confirmation that I'm a real person or if she just doesn't want the next part of the conversation preserved in the text log.

"Hey…", I begin cautiously as the voice call starts. "Can you hear me okay?"

There's a suppressed sniffle on the other end. "Yeah… I hear you."

For a moment I entertain the thought of going all 'when I was your age' and explaining that I was always cautioned against talking to strangers on the internet, but it's probably not the time for that. Read the room, Alexis.

She's not saying anything. I'm going to have to start this off, I think. Something harmless, something value-neutral…

"So from your icon, I'm guessing you want crow HRT? Raven HRT, maybe?"

"Crow HRT.", she states simply. "Crows are everywhere here, and I've always loved them, always been jealous of them. They get to go anywhere they want, do anything they want…" She lets out a groaning sigh. "Augh, this is stupid. You probably think I'm stupid for wanting this."

I can't hold back from giving a little bit of a laugh. "Hah! Young lady, one year ago I went to a doctor and told him to his face that I wanted him to turn me into a recessive-gene variant of an endangered species that doesn't even live on this continent, and then I threatened to bite him if he wouldn't do it. Fantasizing about being a crow is just about the normalest thing I can imagine compared to that."

"…You said you'd BITE him?"

I grin, though without a camera set up she can't see it. "Every one of us who seeks out humanity removal therapy is already a little bit inhuman, even if we don't fully know it yet. After all, why would we remove something if we felt emotionally attached to it?"

Another audible sniffle. "Holy fuck, you DO get it…"

"I sure hope I get it, it's not like I can un-grow the fur and the tail."

She gives a laugh, then there's a long pause. "…Does it hurt? Is it scary?"

"Sometimes. My fingers were REALLY sore while my claws were developing, and having your entire facial structure rearrange is no joke. As for scary, well, I sure get stared at a lot more, but I think I scare people a lot more than they scare me."

"Heh, maybe I want to be scary."

I frown a little. "I don't. I just want to be true to myself."

There's an awkward silence. After a while, I decide to bring up something I was curious about:

"So I remember you asking if there was a way to get species HRT without your parents noticing. I'm guessing they're not exactly supportive?"

She lets out an uncomfortable groan. "Mmmngh… They watch a lot of those news shows, you know, the ones that only run angry sensationalist bullcrap? Dad gets furious at the idea of anyone changing themselves, something about the 'holy sanctity of the human body' or whatever. He even thinks tattoos are blasphemy. Mom says it's the most horrific thing she can imagine, she nearly fainted when she caught me watching a stream of this one dragon girl talking about her changes."

"And here you are, wanting to be a bird… I'm sorry, that sounds really rough."

"It… It is." I can hear her voice faltering. "Hearing nothing but how terrible a waste it is, and how awful and horrific they are, and the whole time knowing that I'd give ANYTHING for it to happen to me, I just… I'm sorry, I just…"

"Hey, you don't need to apologize… I'm not going anywhere."

"I just… don't know how much longer I can take it!"

"…Take what?" I'm afraid to ask my next question, but… I just have to. "…What are they doing to you??"

Somewhere deep inside her, the dam just… breaks. She starts sobbing as she tells me about how her parents yell at her over every single mistake, how she gets shoved or hit just for being in the way, how she hurts herself just so the pain gives her something to feel and to focus on, and how she… How she once climbed up to the roof of her building and took a flying leap off. She had every intention to end her own life, but in the moment her feet left the ground and she felt the air under her arms, she experienced a rush of euphoria, for the first time she can remember.

…And a moment later, she broke a leg and several ribs when she hit the ground.

She explains that she spent over a month in hospital, a captive audience for her parents to yell at more, when they even bothered to show up at all. I'm too stunned to even react.

She's spent the years since then chasing that high, climbing trees and jumping off, finding rooftops and hilltops to go stand in the wind, looking up online videos of parachuting and wingsuiting and hang gliding, and when she first heard rumours about medical treatments that can alter one's very species, she started frantically researching. That's how she started finding other therians to reach out to, how she got involved in the group chat.

"Have you… had an appointment with Dr. Erian yet?" I have a feeling I already know the answer - something something, 'letter from a physician, two psychologists, live as your preferred species for at least a year'. The same horseshit I had to listen to.

"No… I tried to get one, but he won't see anyone under 18 without parental consent, and fat chance of ever getting that."

Huh. I hadn't expected that, it feels surprisingly principled for him. Though at the end of the day, it's probably just another liability thing - ol' Teddy Erian covering his own ass as usual.

"I just…" She's started crying again. "I just want to turn into a beautiful black bird and fly away from all this, forever… I just want to live my life on the wind, going wherever I want, never having to see a single human again…"

I can feel my own tears welling up, and that's the moment I make my decision. I'm going to meet up with this girl, and I'm going to find a way to help her. Maybe she doesn't need humanity removal, maybe she just needs to know someone who understands.

We decide on a place and time to meet up. There's a little cafe I like nearby, run by a trio of neurodivergent queer women. It's a public place, and about as safe for weirdos like us as you can get. Corvid-girl tells me she'll be the one with a feathered headband and a crow-skull necklace. I tell her I'll be the one with white fur and a tail. That manages to get a laugh out of her. I choose to take that as a victory.

There's something about the way she laughs that sounds a bit like a crow's call. I wonder whether that's intentional on her part…

A few days later, I'm sitting in the cafe enjoying a hot chocolate and a roast beef sandwich - extra meat, naturally. Dr. Erian said I have to start cutting chocolate out of my diet because cocoa is going to become toxic to me, but… chocolate! I did ask for a lighter mix though, so what I'm drinking is actually mostly just hot milk. Maybe there's a cocoa-free substitute out there I can look into…

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by a squeal of delight emanating from the front door. There's a teenage girl standing there, staring directly at me with a look of amazement on her face. Dark clothes, pale skin, black hair, headband with feathers in it, and hanging from her neck, an amulet in the shape of a bird skull. I smile and wave a paw at her. She practically bounces as she walks up to my table and takes a seat.

"Holy SHIT, you're… And you even have the… Your face looks just like… Can I touch your paw??"

I laugh and hold out my paw. "Haha, sure, just watch out for the claws, they don't stay all the way inside just yet."

"Oh, it's okay, I'm used to sharp things!"

I wince as I think back to our voice chat from the other day. I REALLY hope she doesn't mean what I think she means, but I can't help noticing she's wearing long sleeves, even though the weather has been getting warmer.

She turns my paw over and squeals. "OHMYGOD you even have the BEEEEANS!" I can't resist smiling as she starts poking and prodding at my pawpads. "You look SO!! AMAZING!!"

Corvid-girl starts frantically complimenting all my animalistic features - "Your stripes are so pretty!" "I love your tail!" "Ohh, your fangs, they're so COOL!!" - and I start uncontrollably blushing. I never would have thought species affirmation would feel this euphoric… Naturally, being a teenager, she takes this as an excuse to push even harder, and I start covering my face with my paws, thoroughly embarrassed.

"You look just like the tigers they have on stage for those shows in Vegas!"

"H-hey, that's actually not okay…"

"You know, I bet you'd look good up on a stage too! Everyone would love to see you!!"

Instinctually, I let out a growl, louder than I actually want to. It has the intended effect, in that she stops dead and stares at me, but so do a few other cafe patrons. Oh gods, here comes the embarrassment again… "H-hey, look, it's just…"

"Sorry." She's gone completely deadpan, and stiff as a board.

I close my eyes tightly. Gods, why did I DO that?? First the waitress at that seafood place, and now an actual CHILD. I REALLY need to start getting a handle on these predator instincts. When I open my eyes again, she's still standing there, and she looks like she's on the verge of a panic attack.

I need to calm her down, need to bring her back. "No… I'M sorry. I shouldn't have done that, I just… The animals they use for those stage shows get abused all the time, and it's kind of a sore spot for me."

"…Really?"

Okay, she's talking, she's distracted, maybe I can still salvage this. "Yeah… Every species has baggage, it's one of the shitty parts of being therian, and tigers, white tigers especially, they're treated like show pieces, or worse."

"…Well shit, I knew they're endangered, but… fuck."

"Yeah, it's a whole thing, I try not to -"

Our conversation is interrupted by one of the staff tapping corvid-girl on the shoulder and asking to talk privately. She reluctantly agrees to go to the back of the store and talk. At first I think maybe she's being chastised for being a disturbance, but the barista who pulled her away is giving me some very pointed looks. Worried looks, I might even say.

If I angle my ears just right, I can almost hear them through the noise of the rest of the cafe.

"…other patrons were concerned… …young lady so close to a dangerous creature…"

I wonder if the barista notices the indignant look that crosses my face when they describe me as a 'creature'.

Corvid-girl lets out that bird-like laugh of hers. Her voice is a lot more distinct and easier to pick out:

"It's just my aunt! She's not a 'creature', she just takes meds to look like that!"

The barista doesn't protest as corvid-girl returns to our table, but they're still giving me a very 'You'd better not try anything' kind of look.

Corvid-girl sits down, seemingly a little more grounded, a little more sobered. "…I guess I never thought to ask, why a white tiger?"

I lean forward, head in one paw, and give a bit of a shrug. "I relate a lot to them."

"To… being treated like a show piece, or whatever you said?"

"…Yeah. When I was little, they called me 'gifted' and put me in a separate school. I remember being excited about it, but it turns out it just meant getting more homework."

"…Ew."

I smile a little bit. "That's what I thought too! They wanted me to be some brilliant prodigy, a genius in the making, but the reality is I was just more observant and better at math than most people, that's all. I actually had to take an extra year of school because I was so bad at it."

"EWW!!"

"I KNOW, RIGHT?? But, then I went to college and graduated at the top of my class, so the joke's on them in the end."

"I wasn't even planning on staying around long enough for college…" She still has a bit of a depressed air about her, but she's not going into a panic. Maybe I'm better with kids than I thought.

"Yeah, I remember, you were going to turn into a beautiful crow and fly away forever." I try to give her a reassuring look. "But hey, the human world isn't ALL bad."

"Says the woman who's turning herself into a wild animal."

I snort quietly as I hold back a laugh. "Okay, fair, but wild animals don't get the internet, or nice little cafes where weirdos like us can just sit and talk."

"Hah, yeah… Weirdos like us." She gives a smile. An actual, genuine smile. Suddenly all the awkwardness is worth it, to see someone so deeply unhappy smile. "That reminds me, I saw on the server you're into witchcraft, can you… teach me?"

Somehow I feel like I should have expected this. The goth-looking crow girl is into witchcraft, big surprise. "I… guess? Maybe? I'm not like an expert or anything, I've just read a few books and cast a few spells is all."

"Ooh, what kind of spells??" And now she's back to her enthusiastic self.

"Just some protective charms on people who needed them, a few card readings with a tarot deck, nothing much really…"

"Does it really work??"

"I mean, the people I cast those charms on ended up safe in the end, but who knows if what I did made a difference? Some of the card readings were scary-accurate though, I think I might have a talent for divination."

She laughs. "Gonna have to get you to read my future sometime."

We end up spending the next hour or so making small talk, getting to know each other, talking about the ins and outs of humanity removal, complaining about Dr. Erian, until…

"Hey, I gotta go catch the bus back home, but… this was nice." She gives a bit of a smirk. "Cool to meet another weirdo."

Before she leaves, I ask her name - I still don't know it, I've been internally calling her 'corvid-girl' this entire time.

She gives me a disgusted grimace. "Ugh, it's 'Margaret'. I'm named for my great-grandmother, it's SUCH an old-lady name."

"Margaret, like Maggie, as in magpie?" I smile a little. "Those are corvids too, you know."

Her expression softens a little. "…Never thought of that. Still don't like it, though…"

"Well, is there a name you'd like better? I can start calling you that if you like."

She freezes. Somewhere in her eyes I can see her mind working to process what I've just said. "…Nobody ever asked me that before. I'll… think about it." She turns to leave.

"Wait, hold on a sec."

"WHAT!?" She outright glares at me, then seems to soften. "Sorry, it's… never mind."

That… was an EXTREMELY sudden mood shift. Trauma response, maybe? "I… was just going to ask if you wanted a sandwich or something to take home."

"…Didn't bring any money…"

I shake my head a little. "That doesn't answer my question. Would you like me to BUY you a sandwich or something?"

"…Egg salad if they got it I guess…"

I go up to the counter and buy her an egg salad sandwich to go. She looks like she's going to cry when I hand it to her. I… probably shouldn't make a big deal about that, but somewhere deep inside, my heart breaks a little. Does she never have anyone just… offer her food?

I'm beginning to understand why she wants to leave behind the curse of humanity. I chose this path, I wanted to be a tiger, I'm running towards something. Corvid-girl, though? She's running away from something.

I walk her outside, and she starts to walk away, but suddenly stops, and turns back to me. She walks resolutely up to me, then grabs me in a hug.

"Soft…" Her voice is muffled against both my shirt and the fur underneath. "You're very soft…"

Once I get over my surprise at the sudden gesture, I hesitantly put one arm around her shoulders and pat her on the back. She pulls away after a few short moments, and walks away down the sidewalk without another word.

I touch my shirt where her head was leaning, and notice a small wet spot.

---

Time to play "Spot the References!" Intentional references below:

"something about a 'foolish undine'" - welldrawnfish (Fish HRT)

"the first well-known humanity remover was a dragon-girl" - ayviedoesthings (Dragon HRT)

"I've been hanging out and playing online games with a lamia" - ariathelamia (Lamia HRT)

"someone out there transitioning to Sonic the Hedgehog" - sonic-spirit (Sonic HRT)

"watching a stream of this one dragon girl talking about her changes" - Rain, by Jocelyn Samara D. (Dragon HRT)

[blackenedsnow]

Hi! I love your work and how you write for serious topics. I loved your sonic post! can you do one of him with an anorexic reader? and make the reader heal a little, slowly?

petals of wilt

WARNING: Anorexia, disordered eating habits, self destructive behaviour,

PAIRING: Sonic The Hedgehog x Anorexic! Reader

NOTE: I've been in your place.. and it’s so very scary. I'm rooting for you, and everybody reading.

SUMMARY: You struggle with an eating disorder that’s consuming you from within. Despite your efforts to hide the pain, Sonic notices your declining health and expresses his concern.

The scale sat silently in the corner of your bedroom. It had become a constant companion in your life, an unforgiving judge of your worth, dictating the value of your existence. You would stand on it, watching as the numbers climbed or dropped, heart racing in anticipation. Today, you were frozen. Unable to face its verdict, knowing it never spoke kindly.

It’s been days since you’ve eaten anything substantial. Just water, maybe some crackers when the nausea hit too hard. Even then, you regretted it, feeling weak—pathetic even—as if those few crumbs would ruin everything. The cold ache in your stomach was your punishment, but also your security. It’s all you had. It’s all you could control.

You sighed, running a hand down your face, staring out the window at the flowers Sonic had brought you. They were in full bloom now—bright reds, yellows, and pinks. Their petals wide open, basking in the sunlight. Alive, thriving. So unlike you.

You hated them.

You could never be like them. You were wilting. Slowly, quietly, just like the ones he brought you last time. They had shriveled up within days, their once-vibrant petals now curled and brown, the life drained out of them. You wondered if you looked like that too—fragile, brittle, on the verge of crumbling into nothing.

A knock on the door startled you out of your thoughts. You knew who it was before you even answered.

Sonic pushed the door open slightly, peeking in. His eyes met yours, concern clouding the usual carefree spark in his gaze. You hated that look. You didn't want him to see you like this.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. "I brought you something."

In his hand, he held a small bouquet of wildflowers. More flowers. He placed them gently on the windowsill next to the others, glancing at the old ones that had withered. He didn’t say anything about them.

Instead, he turned back to you, his brow furrowing. “Have you... eaten today?”

You swallowed, throat dry, and looked away. The question stung, like he was pointing out every flaw you had. Every weakness. You shook your head, barely moving it. The silence that followed was suffocating.

“I know it’s hard,” he murmured, stepping closer. “But you’ve got to eat something. Even just a little.”

The scale caught your eye again. It called to you, taunting you, reminding you that every bite, every calorie would show up as numbers. Numbers that would label you, define you. You couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t let yourself slip.

But Sonic was standing there, waiting. His eyes were pleading, his hand reaching out, gently grazing your arm. His touch was warm, grounding, a reminder that he was real. That you weren’t alone.

“I don’t... I can’t,” you whispered, voice cracking. You hated how weak you sounded. How helpless.

“You can,” Sonic said firmly, his grip tightening just a little. “I’m here. We’ll do it together, okay?”

His words lingered in the air between you. You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him, but the weight of your own mind was suffocating. The envy bubbled up inside you. Why couldn’t you be like him? So strong, so fast, so... alive. He didn’t have to worry about things like food or weight or the scale in the corner. His body worked like a well-oiled machine, efficient, powerful. Perfect.

You, on the other hand, were a mess.

“I wish I was like you,” you muttered under your breath, not meaning for him to hear. But he did.

Sonic’s grip loosened, his face softening. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, tears welling up in your eyes before you could stop them. “You... you don’t have to worry about any of this. You’re... perfect.”

There was a long pause. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with everything you weren’t saying.

“I’m not perfect,” Sonic said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “I mess up all the time. I get scared. I worry. Just like you.”

You shook your head. “It’s not the same.”

“No,” he admitted. “It’s not. But that doesn’t mean I’m not here for you.”

His words were kind, but they didn’t change the gnawing ache in your chest. The envy. The hatred for your own body, your own mind. Sonic could say all the right things, bring you flowers, hold you when you cried, but none of it could fix what was broken inside of you.

Nothing could.

“Just... give it a try,” he said softly, pulling a small container from his bag. He opened it to reveal a piece of toast. Plain, simple. Nothing fancy. Nothing that would send the numbers on the scale skyrocketing. Just enough to give you a little strength.

You stared at it for what felt like an eternity. Your stomach turned at the thought of eating, but something inside you—some tiny, fragile part that wasn’t completely lost yet—wanted to try. For him.

For you.

Your hand trembled as you reached for it. Sonic didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you with quiet encouragement. You took a small bite. It felt foreign, heavy, but not unbearable. You chewed slowly, forcing yourself to swallow, to let it sit inside you without panic.

The scale was still there, looming in the corner of your vision. But for the first time in a long time, you didn’t rush to it.

Sonic smiled softly, squeezing your hand. “That’s a start.”

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t enough to fix everything, to make you whole again. But it was something. A tiny step forward. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

The flowers beside you swayed gently in the breeze from the open window, their petals brushing against each other. They were still vibrant, still blooming. You weren’t like them yet. Not fully. But maybe, just maybe, there was a part of you that could learn to grow again.

As the days stretched on, you found yourself taking small steps. Some days, you could stomach a little more. Other days, you couldn’t manage more than a few bites. But Sonic never gave up on you. He was always there, with his wildflowers and his gentle smile, reminding you that you were still here. That you were still alive.

The envy never fully went away. You still looked at Sonic and wished you were like him—strong, fast, invincible. But there were moments, fleeting as they were, where you saw glimpses of strength in yourself. A different kind of strength. One that wasn’t about running or fighting or saving the world. One that was about surviving. About waking up each day and choosing to keep going, even when it felt impossible.

The scale still sat in the corner of your room. But it wasn’t the center of your life anymore. It was just... there.

And as the wildflowers continued to bloom on your windowsill, you found yourself watching them with less bitterness and more curiosity. Maybe, just maybe, you could bloom too.

Even if it took time.

[son1c]

i think movie sonic would constantly sing smooth criminal to annie and she'd fucking hate it. annie are you okay. are you okay annie

actually annie has perfect pitch and would automatically start coaching sonic on how to sing better. she'd be more concerned with how he sounded than the lyrics he was singing. in fact she might not even register them until hours later. so, at 2 am, suddenly she'd jerk awake and be like "wait."

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for @daemoninwhiteround2; Kon wants scented.

So Superboy heads for Metropolis, flying full-speed but keeping an ear on the news as he does. It's not helpful. Superman is just in feral drop and hyper-defensive of his territory, and being real aggressive about it. Nobody's gotten hurt too bad, but definitely some broken bones have been reported. Some gossip sites are speculating about this finally being proof of him being an alpha, which is the least relevant thing Superboy can think of to care about right now, but he guesses that's how they get paid or whatever. 

Morons. 

He doesn't–he doesn't think about it, himself. He only wants to know Superman's dynamic if Superman wants to tell him it. 

Even if he’d admittedly feel a lot better about a lot of shit if Superman were an alpha, since he's still pretty sure he's gonna be too, and . . . and maybe it wouldn't be because of Westfield, then. 

Maybe. 

But he's not thinking about that. 

Superboy checks the news again as he passes into Metropolis proper to figure out where the whole throwdown is currently happening, but he's barely pulled up the live feed before he hears an explosion and an immediate sonic boom in the distance. 

Okay. Not great, probably. 

“Superman’s disappeared!” the reporter on the feed yells, and Superboy narrows his eyes at the screen in concern and tries to figure out–

And then there's a whoosh, and suddenly he's getting snatched straight out of the air. He yelps in shock more than from the impact, even though the impact feels like being grabbed by a fucking mountain. It doesn't hurt, though, it's just–it's just concrete and inescapable. 

He crashes into the center of a construction site with whatever just hit him and catches a flash of familiar red out of the corner of his eye right before impact, and then realizes just what just hit him. 

Probably he should've realized what it was from the start, though. 

Or who, more like. 

“Superman?” he tries carefully as he looks up at him, a little mystified. The workers are already fleeing to safe distances, but Superman just keeps pinning him down in the middle of a pile of building materials, still looking very obviously feral and also very weirdly intent.

Superman's looking at him too. Like . . . he's really, really looking at him.

The fuck? 

“You in there, man?” Superboy tries a little more warily, and then Superman shoves him down flat on his back and leans down over him to nuzzle his hair with the weirdest purr he's ever heard. Like–it's definitely a purr, but it also sounds like heavy-duty construction equipment. Like, to the point Superboy actually double-checks to make sure it's not any of the construction equipment. 

No, it’s definitely not the construction equipment. 

Do Kryptonian alphas purr? Is that, like . . . a thing? Or is this just the Kryptonian version of a rumble? 

Part of Superboy wishes he knew, even though he really doesn’t want to know Superman’s dynamic if Superman doesn’t want to tell him. Just–part of him still wishes he knew. 

He’d like to know literally anything about being Kryptonian, though, so he figures he can cut himself a break on that one. 

“Superman–” he starts, putting a testing hand on Superman’s arm and figuring he just needs to keep the guy distracted while the rest of the workers clear out and until the Justice League catches up, but that’s when shit gets really weird. 

At least, being full-body hugged by Superman isn’t a normal experience for him. 

Again: the fuck?