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aealzx · 4 months ago

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As Sonic slammed through the enemy’s weapons Knuckles slid to a stop next to Shadow and threw his body protectively over the black hedgehog’s smaller form, a hand resting on Shadow’s head, and face turning to snarl at the soldiers. Only when significant damage had been done did Sonic skid to a stop, standing between the soldiers and Shadow with his arms spread wide, blue lightning rippling off his form. The quiet that fell over the field wasn’t complete, but it was still numbing. “Stay down, new hedgehog. I’ll keep you safe,” Knuckles spoke quietly to Shadow when he tried to push himself up despite the form over him. He smelled of blood mixed with ash, and Knuckles could hear the slight wheeze in his painfully heavy breaths. It was a simple command, but Knuckles was uncertain if the way Shadow’s form relaxed after a moment was a good thing or not. He seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open.

____________

“Mr. Wachowski. Care to enlighten me why you’re here?” Commander Walters returned the greeting. “Well, I live here,” Tom answered with a brief smile. “Green Hills is right over there, in case you weren’t aware. We’d appreciate it if the military wasn’t firing off weapons so close to town.” “A minor incident. We have it under control, and will be leaving shortly.” Sonic snorted and opened his mouth to shoot a bitter reply, but Tom stopped him with a hand. “Great! Well then, I’ll just pick up my kids, and we’ll pretend this never happened. We can tell the town you were cleaning up a rogue Eggman drone?” Tom suggested brightly. That got Commander Walters to crack a fake smile. “Ah. Yes, that should do nicely.” “Cool! Keeping it simple. I like it,” Tom breathed, clapping his hands together and turning slightly. “Honey, is kid number four safe to move?” “Four?” Commander Walters spoke in mildly confused protest. “Uhhhhh yeah. Two right here, and then two over there with Maddie makes four,” Tom returned easily, pointing to Sonic and Tails near him, and then Knuckles and Shadow as Maddie reached them. Commander Walters cleared his throat. “I��m sorry Mr. Wachowski, there seems to be a misunderstanding. Project Shadow is property of G.U.N.. I can’t allow you to take it.” “Huh,” Tom voiced, forcing a pause. “That’s strange. I thought slavery was illegal in the United States.” “You know what I mean.” “No, I actually don’t. Care to enlighten me how kidnapping a lost child and subjecting him to experimentation and indefinite imprisonment is something the government does?” Commander Walters’ expression twitched, and Tom started nodding his head. “Yeah, we figured some things out,” Tom confirmed the unspoken, possible question. It prompted Commander Walters to change tactics, shifting his shoulders and drawing a breath for a new conversation. “We’re simply containing a dangerous weapon. It’s standard procedure.” “Excuse me? The only dangerous weapon we’ve had to deal with recently was that moon slicing cannon your people built. The one that my kids stopped, because some nutcase stole it from you. Remember that?” “Didn’t he almost kill you in the process?” “Because he thought I was you!” Tom snapped. ”And seeing what you've done to him now I can see why his first reaction to seeing you was to fight!” “He's dangerous-” “He is a child!” Tom bellowed. “And if you would treat him as one, as a person, instead of a weapon he may have come to like you instead of wanting to kill you the moment he saw you! Now are you going to take my suggestion and get the hell out of here without a fuss, or are we going to have to do this the hard way?”

____________________

“I think he passed out.” Maddie faltered for a moment, but then pushed through, somewhat reassured since they were already in the clinic. “Alright. That’s okay, bring him over here,” Maddie directed, pointing to a shallow bathing station. “We need to get him clean. Can you get his gloves and shoes off?” she gave for further instruction before turning to her three boys. “Knuckles, take your brothers to the front room and call Uncle Wade to come help watch you three.” “But I wanna help!” Sonic protested, already having been dancing around their feet staying out of the way but also trying to stay as close as he could. “I know, but this is a little more intense than I’d like you to have to deal with,” Maddie assured, running her hand over his head. “I’ll be good, I’ll listen.” “No, Sonic,” Maddie stressed. “I’m gonna have to do surgery to fix his ribs, and I don’t want any of you to see that. Okay?” Sonic’s eyes went wide, and Maddie raised her hands to steady him if needed. It was a little blunt, but she didn’t have time to keep trying to convince him. “It’ll be okay, boys. I’ll take care of it. So just be good for Wade, alright?” “I’ll watch over them, mother,” Knuckles assured, moving forward with Tails already clinging to him and putting a hand around Sonic. “Come. Let us contact our Uncle, then construct a plan to welcome Shadow home.”

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Iiiiiii have a lot of scattered incoherent thoughts about Shadow getting adopted that I cannot figure out how to string together in a straight story, so I'm just doodling and writing the lil bits that pop into my head. 8 |

Something about Shadow trying to find his inhibitor rings again, but he only gets the 2 for his legs and G.U.N. finds the other 2 first, which leads to Shadow trying to steal them back but inevitably getting worn down by them and his own chaos energy beating him up. So he gives in and goes to Green Hills to find Sonic for help because "I thought that...since you wouldn't kill me… even after all I did, all I said, I thought that maybe…. maybe… you could help me"

This all took long enough that the Wachowski fam had enough time to talk things over about everything.

This also might be the 'I may have beat Shadow up a lil too much haha whoops' headspace 'cause he ended up with this list of injuries by the time the fam got him:

2 displaced broken ribs on the right (stabilized by Maddie with pins to be removed later)

broken right arm

broken left leg

injured right lung (causes wheezing mostly)

large laceration on right torso and right thigh

I'm still not sure if I want Walters to be the one there chasing Shadow or if it should be the other military lady and Walters helps stop them and let Tom and Maddie take Shadow 8 |

anyway post is getting way long so * finger guns and leaves ya'll with this *

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cookiieduh · 12 days ago

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.જ⁀➴ ♡ ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ ᴄᴏᴀᴛᴇᴅ.ᐟ⭑.ᐟ

ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ! ᴀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ? ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴡᴇʟʟ… ᴅᴜʜ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ. ᴀ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅᴏ ᴅᴀᴍɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ɢʀᴀꜱꜱ. ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ꜰᴜᴄᴋꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴ!

.pairing.ᐟ ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ .cont.ᐟ MDNI, ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴍᴏᴅ x ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴅʏɴᴀᴍɪᴄ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ, ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ‘ᴍᴇᴏᴡꜱ’), ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ, ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ꜱᴘᴀɴᴋɪɴɢ, ᴄᴀᴛ ᴇᴀʀꜱ, ᴇɢɪʀʟ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ, ᴇᴛᴄ… ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴅᴜᴍʙɪꜰɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ʜʏᴘᴇʀ-ꜰᴇᴍɪɴɪɴᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴘᴏʀɴ ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴏᴛ, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘ ɪɴ ᴠ, ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ, ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ ᴄʀɪɴɢᴇ, ᴘᴇᴛ ɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ’, ‘ᴋɪᴛᴛᴇɴ’ ᴇᴛᴄ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ, ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍ, ꜰʀᴇᴀᴋᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴡᴋ .extra.ᐟ ᴡᴄ,, 2.8ᴋ,, ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ. ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ!

“oh, kitten,” gojo attempts to cajole with a desperation that borders pathetic, batting long white lashes at the webcam as you sit in pretty pixels across his screen.

“puh-leaseeee!”

and he’s been at this for half an hour, begging you to let him fly you out to japan.

“it’s beautiful this time of year, ‘nd i bet you’d look great in a kimono!” he just keeps going on and on, relentlessly begging and deliriously chatting your ear off with crazed ramblings of how he’s going to treat you like the goddess you are the moment you step off that plane.

it’s not like you think he’s making empty promises. you don’t doubt that he has money, not for a second. after all, you’ve managed to wind him so tightly around your finger that he pretty much funds everything for you. college tuition, spa days, shopping trips, and nitro.

especially nitro.

and up until this point, all you’ve had to do was sweet talk him, send a couple suggestive pics, and much to your shame, meow for him. but who cares? it’s a moment of embarrassment for a much lengthier time of luxury.

well, it’s too bad it’s finally catching up to you. now this clingy, needy, discord mod is begging you to come see him.

“but, toruuu.” you’re inwardly cringing at how sugared your voice is, even more so at the demure pout you’re impelling as you look straight into the camera. “it’s sooo far.” and while the sound of your forced, cloyingly sweet voice makes you want to barf, he’s eating it up like the sound alone is candied ambrosia.

“c’mon, kitty.” he’s persistent. you’ve got to give him that.

“it’ll be all expenses paid! i just want to see youuuuu!” and it’s almost jarring to see an attractive, wealthy man, only a handful of years older than you, begging this childishly for a girl he’s only ever seen on his screen to travel overseas and meet him.

hesitating, weighing out the options in your head before finally conceding with a reluctant sigh of: “send me six hundred to get my hair and nails done.”

you knew you were fucked when you got a notification from cashapp saying six thousand instead.

and truly fucked you were, because who would’ve thought that the guy quite literally paying you to meow for him would be a freak?

…

you.

you did.

and maybe you should have trusted your gut instinct because now you’re halfway across the world, bent over your discord daddy’s lap, pretty pink miniskirt hiked up and flipped over to give his palm better access to land mean smack!’s against your steadily flushing rear.

“ugh, kitty, you are just too cute when you cry like that.” you’re mistaken to think that he would maybe give you even just a second of reprieve from the relentless assault of his hand, but no, he slaps an even harder swat over your poor, pillowy ass.

this has to be what, the tenth—? twelfth—smack? honestly, you’ve lost count. overwhelming humiliation from the sadistic spanking aside, you don’t even want to think about the matching paw print thigh-highs and cat ears he insisted you wear while he gives you this ‘special’ treatment.

“b-but, it h-hurrrrrts—!” you’re whining in earnest now, fingers curling into the fabric of the surprisingly silken sheets as he giggles. giggles. a small, awfully boyish laugh that should have nothing, yet has everything to do with your predicament.

but really, the pain is the last thing on your mind when you’re feeling a heat twist in your gut that has nothing to do with the burn of the slaps that crack against your reddening cheeks. the kind of fervour you’re praying he doesn’t notice slickening your panties, because god knows he’d be remorseless.

“aww, it h-hurts?” he mimics the stutter you didn’t even realise you had with a snicker, rubbing salt into your wounded ego and fractured dignity while you discreetly squeeze your thighs together. “come on, cupcake, you can count five more, rightttt?” firm hands press into your cheeks before spreading them apart, letting the seam of your panties dig further against your core.

“five!?” you all but squawk, squirming atop his lap as he continues kneading your ass like he’s a cat with a bakery to run. he’s infatuated with it, with the way you react when he squeezes and slaps, the way you try and fail to mask the gasps and whimpers as he plays with you.

“mhm, fiiiive moreee.” satoru drags out the words. mocking. teasing. aggravating.

he continues spreading and groping like a man possessed, leaving you simmering in anticipation for torment promised to come. it actually makes you flinch when he abruptly stops, letting the pads of his fingers keep you pinned. you run cold when you hear the sudden, sharp crash of his laughter.

“oh, no.” he breathily chuckles before smearing you so far apart you feel the cool air of the room blow over your clothed pussy.

“is my little kitty getting wet from being slapped?” and you hate the stupid smirk in his stupid voice. hate the way your stupid back arches out of stupid impulse.

“s’toru-” you’re practically mewling, head dropping forward into the crook of your elbow as he shamelessly toys with you, dragging a finger up the puffy, sodden slit your panties cling to, probably sporting the biggest grin you can barely begin to imagine.

“didn’t know you were slutty for a little pain.” gojo’s voice drops to a coy murmur, feigning surprise at the more than expected reaction.

“m’not.” you whine the blatant denial against your forearm as he hooks a finger beneath the cotton of your thong and tugs the flimsy fabric aside, popping a long finger in your cunt so suddenly it makes you choke on a gasp. he groans as if it’s in his ass, biting his lip when he feels you squeeze around him.

“uh-huh, sureee.” he begins to move, pumping in and out with an increasing vigor while you squirm and arch. the type of finger-fucking that’s so mind-melting you barely notice when he slips a second. then a third. stretching you out beyond belief to the point where you aren’t sure your lungs can catch up.

he bumps you up on his knee as his digits mash your insides, slipping his free hand under your front in the fraction of a second to catch your clit with his thumb, jolting incessantly frenzied rings around the puckered nub, making you tremble.

“j-just like—FUUUCK—!” you’re crying out, jerking up in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers. he snickers again. it barely registers. not when he’s found that rigid patch of nerves in your gummy walls, making you muffle a scream into your arm.

“be a good girl ’n say ‘thank you, daddy!’”

if you weren’t so flustered, you’d probably scoff at the command, brush it off and refuse to call him that. but when his digits are jostling in and out while he’s teasing something along the lines of “you’re gushing around me, sweets.”, you don’t question it.

ass raising, hips bucking. you’re flushed and breathless by the time your orgasm comes crashing down on you. an embarrassingly wanton moan is torn from your throat as your thighs begin to quake, feeble little whimpers of “mph, daddy—! thu-thank you!!” snuffed against the bedsheets you’re clinging so desperately to.

“ah, fuck. so. tight.” satoru punctuates the words with a flick against your clit, making you yelp and try to uselessly scramble off his thighs. “not so fast.” he pulls his fingers out before flipping you over on his lap, your lower back hitting his knees with a painless thud.

“you don’t get to run from it. not when we’ve barely started, kitty.” he’s smiling down at you. wolfish. and whether flying out was a mistake or not, you know for certain you’re not going to make it out alive.

you’re still breathless, skin scorched beneath your baggy, blush sweater. so he pushes it up, palm splaying over the soft of your stomach while the other keeps your shaky thighs wedged apart. staring up at that handsome face almost makes you forget how… unconventional he is. like he can get away with calling you his ‘perfect kitten’ with just a bat of his lashes.

“such a pretty girl.” he’s lilting lightly, like he isn’t tugging the lacey cups of your bra down to free your darling tits. “with a body made to be worshipped.” lidded baby blues flitting between your parted lips and perky nipples. greedy and indecisive.

“toru—!”

he pinches the hardened buds until you correct yourself with a squeak.

“daddy—i mean daddy!”

he only hums, continuing to tweak them while you worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze hazy and a little unfocused as his free hand simultaneously, hypnotically, rubs your pussy.

“don’t be rough. please?” you blink up at him, cheeks still stinging with the persistent buzz from the earlier spanking. you’d think he was only half paying attention with the way he fondles your breasts so adamantly, but the way a new grin, all teeth and tease, splits his lips… it tells you he’s already got something in mind.

“well,” he begins with a simper, fingers unremittingly digging into the supple plush of your chest as he feigns consideration. “i won’t have the chance to if we do it at your pace.” and then he stops. letting go of you one second, manhandling you to straddle him the next.

“how about you take me for a ride, cupcake?” god forbid you were beginning to find his oddity endearing. let alone sexy.

but still, the conflict between your rational mind and everything else doesn’t distract you from the flutter you feel in your gut when he holds you so flush against him. cheesing up at you with hands encircling your hips and an erection pressed against the seam of your cunt, satoru waits for your next movement which comes in a dither little grind that makes him want to coo at how cute you are.

you’re dizzy already, earlier stimulation and rising nerves making your head swim just a little more than usual.

“oh, don’t tell me you’re tapping out before we’ve even started…” he knows he’s provoking you if that smirk is anything to go by. so instead of letting him continue nettling you, you plant both palms on his shoulders and begin to rock against him with a purpose that makes you both draw in a sharp breath.

his curled lips part as if he’s planning to goad but you’re quicker. lunging forward, mouth snagging against his in a messy kiss that knocks the wind from his lungs. arrogance melts off as he pulls you tighter, clothed bulge bucking into your deliberate swivels while you smother his little gasps and piffling groans.

a muffled “mph—she’s eager.” and you can’t help but admire his terribly annoying talent of having an answer for everything. even when you’re on top, making him breathe funny and stifle curses.

you’re taking charge, and it might be because he’s beneath you, or maybe he’s just letting you... no. he’s definitely letting you. the way he’s hauled and handled you like you’re weightless and the smile against your lips is enough confirmation to realise he’s holding back.

tongues twist, seconds blur, and your clothes are strewn carelessly across the lavish floor of his room.

one hand braced on satoru’s shoulder, the other planted on his thigh as you ease down on his length. leaky dip barely prodding past your honeyed entrance as he bites his lip to salvage composure.

“shit, kitten—” he’s choking out with a strangled huff while you’re hyper focused on the kindled stretch of his cock as you sink lower. trying to hold your breath ’cause who knows what kind of wanton noise could slip out, even if you’re still gasping like you can feel him in your throat.

you still haven’t said anything. jaw clenched, breathing deep through your nose while lashes flutter in focus since he’s. just. that. big.

sweat is already beading at his temple by the time he’s fully sheathed in your velvet heat. neither of you have moved yet and you’re feeling him press in places you never thought existed. dazed and disoriented, you take a moment to accommodate the feeling of being stuffed so wholly.

he’s mumbling out a huffed “you okay?” that somehow tethers you to reality. then he's snaking a hand up your spine, stroking you lightly before his fist curls around the strands of your hair, gently tugging your head to be level with his. he bites back another smirk when he sees you adjust the cat ears that’d barely slipped.

“yeah, fine.” you let the words out with a small puff, hands grasping him so tight they might just brand his skin. cockiness aside, satoru’s been waiting for this for months.

sure, when you first PMed him he’d been skeptical. but in your spurious persistence, he’d conceded. and that’s when the dreams started.

seriously, it was like you were casting spells on him.

fantasies about what it would feel like to have you, always so cute and dolled up on his screen, wrapped around him with that tight, velvet vice. about the noises you’d make, the way you’d cry and beg for him to let you come.

months he’d been waiting, and now you were here. finally, in his arms.

“mmh. sure you are.” he teases with no real malice. a real snark would’ve been silly coming from the guy whose cheeks are flushed a rosy pink because he’s that affected. one hand is still loosely fisted in your hair while the other traces a sultry path down your shoulder blades to the faint dip of your arch.

you draw in one last shaky breath before beginning to move. what starts as a stuttered lift of your hips turns into almost controlled gyrations. you let out a breathy sigh when you feel him yank you down against his bare chest, heart hammering against your own as he lewdly fucks up into you.

another whimper is caught in your throat, ass knocking against his thighs as you twin his feverish thrusts while he groans loudly by your ear, murmuring something barely coherent about how perfect you are.

you somehow will yourself to drag a hand up his neck and rake through the tousled, pearly stands of his hair. that’s until he pummels into a spot that has you surging forward, touch leaving him to slam against the pillow as you let out a sound that can only be described as animalistic.

you’re tightening up and he’s still driving into you. you tense like it’s a mission, mouth dropping open in a cry that cracks as you feel your climax crash over you a second time. so intensely you feel like you’re about to convulse, so fiercely you practically keel over and collapse onto him, headband dropping, bouncing off the bed and somewhere on the floor.

“OHMYGODOHMYGOD!!” you’re wailing, hands scrambling to clutch anything and everything while his pace finally begins to stammer.

“o-oh fuck—hah, so fu-fucking tight—!” he’s almost slurring, eyes fluttering shut as he barely manages to hold back. the last few seconds feel like an eternity of overstimulation for you before he’s pulling out with a shudder, sturdy arms squeezing you tight and hoisting you up while his cum spurts against the backs of your thighs.

“so good to me, sweet girl. soooo good to me.” he’s hushing out even more crazed than before, lips trailing over every inch of skin he can reach, easing you down as you continue to thrum with the aftershocks of such a fervid orgasm. you can barely manage a word, heaving against his sculpted front as he mildly flips your positions, hands brushing away sticky curls.

your fingers scrabble to find purchase against his delts, cheeks warm and body beyond boneless. eyes flutter closed like it’s second nature and you hear him puff out a quiet, sated laugh against your cheek.

“m’gonna be so sore tomorrow.” you grumble hoarsely, feeling too hot but burrowing against him despite yourself. he keeps stroking you, touch almost scathing in the way it crawls up your spine and down your achy skin with a barely fettered intensity.

“don’t worry, kitten. daddy’s gonna take realll good care of you. make you feel all better.”

and you almost wonder if this whole thing’s been some kind of orchestrated farce when you hear a stifled snicker.

for fuck’s sake.

a/n: i don’t know what possessed me to write this. sorry.

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