Yeah yeah this is the main attraction I know like the post and here we go

Lynn actually parallels both (movie) Robotnik and Stone very well (and game Robotnik but that’s a whole other thing)

Lynn parallels (movie) Robotnik because they got exactly what Robotnik always wanted and still became a twisted villain anyway, 30 years ahead of schedule

(They really need to stop getting additional deranged supervillain dads)

Lynn parallels Stone since they’re both incredibly loyal to their respective Robotnik’s and would die for them without hesitation

at the same time though Lynn A. Would Die for a lot of different people and B. Considers (game) Eggman to be dad #2 (chronologically in order of appearance, he’s actually #5 in the rankings, last place)

basically they both love their Robotnik’s but in wildly different ways and this means that you have a wholesome relationship on one end and on the other end is a relationship where everything is blown to hell and consent is the only thing they have going for them

thanks for coming to my ted talk

There was no relief possible when his wings were no longer there to be soothed. And in the bad days, when the ache grew persistent and the throbbing impossible to ignore, the pain became bad enough to wake him up.

Kai groaned again, turning in the sheets. He buried his face in the pillow, his fingers clawing at it to the point of almost tearing it, the boy fighting against the stubborn pain in his back.

He could almost feel the muscle he would need to press for release, which part of his wing was cramping. Knew what would make it better, if only the muscle to massage had still been there.

“Fuck,” Kai breathed. He screwed his eyes shut, uselessly trying to stretch his shoulders to chase some relief. He shifted in the sheets. “Fuck.”

He couldn’t afford to lose hours of sleep, he thought, precious and little as they were. Not when Kyriel deliberately kept him exhausted as a mean of controlling him, when he filled every waking hour of his days with mind numbing duties that either grounded him to dust or overloaded him to the point that thinking of rebellion became a fanciful impossibility. When Kyriel didn’t let him sleep, after having forced him to go through a daily ungodly amount of readings and presenting him with a new challenges to overcome in the arena, all too often keeping him chained to his bed for his enjoyment until the late hours of the night. So that when Kai did manage to crawl back to his rooms, when he have a few precious hours for himself at night, he only collapsed face down on the mattress and didn’t re-emerge until it was time to start it all over again at dawn.

He didn’t have the energy to do anything else. His mind numb, desperation lapping at his soul wherever he turned. And ever since Ashe— and Kyriel had brought him back to the battlefield…

Kai screwed his eyes shut, the memory of the sounds of his people’s screams filling the silence of his rooms.

The boy sat up in his bed, panting as the silken sheets pooled around his waist. He was bruised, and he was pale, blue-purplish bruises littering his chest from when Kyriel had cracked his ribs just a few hours prior. He threw the covers out, standing before he begun to scream himself — the low fireplace casting deep shadows over his face, almost masking the heavy bags under his eyes there.

He grabbed his dressing gown, fastening it over himself with trembling hands. Knowing that, with the combination of his phantom pain and the memories of his shame, there would be no getting back to bed now.

He threw the doors of his rooms open next, into the corridor of the Tower only brightened by low torches on the walls.

There were six Fallens standing guard there, all six in full armour and with spears long enough to keep him and a sword at bay. They hoped it would, at least, Kyriel’s Court having learned not to provoke him — for the angel had been clear, a blessing among the despair, that Kai was to defend himself if provoked. And while the boy had delighted himself in testing the boundaries of that specific command, which provocation the runes allowed him to respond to — physical violence was always, always one he could react to.

Which made the whole concept of guards ludicrous, unless their only purpose was to die. Possibly screaming loudly enough to alert Kyriel his pupil was up to mischief and to give the rest of the Court a head start to run, or perhaps Vasilije simply did have some soldiers he really didn’t particularly like.

Kai watched them all look up with genuine alarm, their armour clinking from where they’d been slacking against the wall.

“I’m going upstairs,” Kai announced. “You guys might follow if you wish.” He strode ahead before any of them could have the brilliant idea of using those long spears of theirs to bar his way, which might or might not be what they were for after all. “I promise that if you keep out of my way, I won’t cause trouble in turn.” His jaw set. “I just need some fresh air.”

That statement would have normally been cause for great alarm, had Kai not resolutely made his way towards the corridor that led upstairs. He heard the guards scramble behind him, that stupid armour of theirs announcing their every step.

“Ehm, sir? My Prince?” One of the Fallens, the one with the tallest feather on his helmet, in case Kai needed a target and couldn’t find himself an easy enough one, flanked him anxiously as he walked. “Couldn’t you do what you need in your rooms?”

“No.”

“We— We’d be happy to have you brought what you need—“

“Can you bring me some peace?” Kai snapped. His eyes flashed, his back aching as another stab of phantom pain ploughed where his flesh had been. He winced. “No? Didn’t think so.”

They’d reached the end of the corridor, at least, facing heavy wooden doors that were darker than those that led to his and Kyriel’s rooms. Two twin columns flanked them, the same rose-tan colour of the stones that Kai knew made the floors of the room beyond.

That was where him and Kyriel had breakfast in the morning, the Dawn Room that faced to the east. 

“Ehm, sir—“ another Fallen, this one sounding even younger than the first. “Are you allowed to…?”

Kai grinned, all teeth. He pushed the doors open.

“Of course I am.” He shrugged, every inch Kyriel’s pupil. “Do you think there is anything I can do that doesn’t have the blessing of your god?”

He left it there, knowing perfectly well that Kyriel’s Court still reeled from what he’d done to them two years before. That the punishment Kyriel had inflicted him had not been enough to dispel the fear — that there were whispers now, those who said that it would have been safer if Kai had been killed and brought back. Doubts, sowed among Kyriel’s loyals, about the angel’s ability to contain him — suspicion that he’d let Kai do kill so many of them on purpose, or through negligence at best. That it had been intentional.

The boy paled, doing his best not to show his pain as the runes on his back flared red in immediate punishment at his words. The compulsion unhappy at the defiance, at the sewing of doubt that was only a step away from outright sabotage.

Fine, Kai thought. I might have deserved that one.

He didn’t have to keep the facade for long, as his guard thankfully left him some distance as soon as he entered the Dawn Room. He felt, more than saw, all six of them take position around the doors and by the walls, the burning of his runes subsiding the further away they got — for the Dawn Room had no exits beyond where they’d come from, and so there would be nowhere for Kai to run. The room was a large semi circular space with floors made with those same rose-gold stones of the columns at the doors, with enormous windows that faced a large terrace encircled by a balustrade covered with flowering vines — and also the place, incidentally, where Kyriel would expect to find him in just a few hours.

The night air was a small shock, still, when Kai opened the doors to the terrace outside. The cold sharp and deep, slamming into his front and bringing him back into his body. 

Kai shuddered, looking up to the sky.

It was a special type of cruelty, he thought, that Kyriel didn’t allow for the windows of Kai’s rooms to open at all. That the only time the boy got fresh air was either when he was strolling leashed with his captor, or when on the battlefield to do his bidding with a collar around his throat. And it wasn’t by chance that the fucker’s favourite punishment was to lock him far away somewhere dark — for he knew, like Kai did too, how badly the boy longed for the sky. For the wind, the wildness of the rolling clouds, the thunder of the storm and the freedom of it all. The night, the sun, the infinite freedom of the open air. The power, free at his fingertips.

Kai grabbed one of the wool throws placed in the basked next to the doors, huddling down on one of the low divans placed against the outer walls of the Tower. He kept his head up, eyes trained towards the sky — for what a wondrous, stunning thing it was that up high. It was enormous, rolling black and jewelled with a thousand stars — it swelled, dark and wild, yet shining with an entire firmament of lights slowly moving across the sky.

Kai felt his heart fill with wonder, the sheer beauty of the universe heal his soul.

Yes.

He’d happily spend all night there, he thought, cold and alone but able to feast on that sight above. Better than the stuffiness of his rooms, of a luxury that hid the bruises — of a golden cage filled with comforts that were meant to keep him tame. 

He could almost feel how flying would be like, as he looked out to the sky. Could imagine stretching those phantom wings of his, large and wide, behind his back — could feel the pull of that muscle that hurt still, the cramp that throbbed and didn’t let him sleep.

He could imagine relaxing it, free from pain at least. 

Kai shuddered in relief, closing his hands in fists. He looked up, hungry, wishing he could stand up and leap. Jump in the air, fly away from the Tower and Kyriel there.

He flinched, jumping on his seat, when a small popping sound cracked next to his ear. He turned, following the clunking sound of ceramic rattling on glass, finding a steaming mug on the low table next to his sofa.

It was hot chocolate, its dark and sweet scent filling his nostrils.

Kai looked up, suddenly alarmed, searching for a sign of his captor on the terrace. As if his traitorous thoughts would have been enough to summon him, as if merely wishing to run away could summon the consequences of punishment on him — but there was no one on the threshold of the door, no shadow of wings over the balustrade or by the columns. Just the soft murmur of the vines wrapped around the stone, the flowers opening and closing as the greenery of the Tower slowly moved.

Kai shuddered, realising where the chocolate had come from. What else could have summoned it for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, low, to the ever watching Tower. He reached out for the mug. “Thank you. I like this one.” He took a sip, almost tearing up for how good it was. He looked up, a thought suddenly making the chocolate sour. “Please, don’t wake him up.”

He could almost feel the Tower purr, a low rumbling laugh running through the stones. For the Tower liked him, had liked him ever since Kai had been a kid — but that didn’t mean it would not enforce Kyriel’s commands, even when Kai oh so wished it would show him a way out. But it would help, he knew, whenever doing so would no go against the spirit of their master’s design.

Sneaking out of his rooms to look out at the sky did not apparently amount to a snitchable offence that night.

Kai sank back into his seat, relaxing a beat despite himself. The mug was hot and solid in his hands, warming him inside and out.

The sky surely was beautiful, striking and rolling all above. The stars shone like jewels, the night sky open and wide, infinite and wild. Only the sound of the wind, of the murmur of Kyriel’s capital below, interrupted the quiet of the night — the air cold and sooting over Kai’s body, pacifying his heart.

Kai felt his eyelids grow heavy, after a while. And for once, knowing himself to have a few hours of peace before breakfast still, he allowed himself to succumb under the watchful gaze of the night sky. 

Masterlist

Taglist:

@flowersarefreetherapy @sunshiline-writes @enigmawriteswhump @suspicious-whumping-egg

@forthetaintedsorrow-whump @luminouswhump @yet-how-they-creep @fraugustends

@hellodecisionparalysis @violent-ultraviolet @alexmundaythrufriday @cepheusgalaxy

“That’s my good boy,” you praise in a singsong tone, John’s hands gliding to grip your hips, the flat of his tongue licking a slow stripe through your folds, the tip flicking over your clit in fast motions and pulling a breathy whine from your chest, “fuck, right there!”

He softly moans, the vibrations enough stimulation for you to release long and whiny moans, tugging at the leash the deeper his tongue indulged in you. But a sharp whimper breathes from your lips, your jaw slacking open and eyes fluttering back as the tip of his tongue rims the edge of your hole, his nose pressing and bumping against your clit as your other hand grips onto his hair roughly.

“John!” You wail, wishing you could spread your thighs wider, giving him more access to devour your cunt that leaks with arousal and his spit, feeling the dribbles tickle down your legs.

Heaven has never tasted so good to him, he’s been waiting all day for this, been thinking about it all day too. From the second coach gave the team a scolding, he’s been dying for his safe space and now he’s eagerly burying his face between your thighs, tongue taking it’s time in lapping up any juices it can lick from the crevices, relishing every pornographic sound his lips around your clit can pull from you and resisting the urge to palm his aching cock.

He pulls back, your pussy missing the warmth of his tongue but his lips brush against you when he speaks in a husky tone, “Taste so fucking good, baby.” 

You tug at the leash, the chain rattling and his grin spreading wider. He gazes up with soft eyes, glazed over with adoration as he presses a sweet kiss to your clit while you can’t keep your eyes off him, it’s such a pathetic gaze but it makes your stomach fizz with desire the longer you get lost in the pools of dark brown. The way his hands gently caress along your thighs feels euphoric, the rough skin over your soft skin, the tickles that wriggle through your body and alleviates the stress from your head, shoulders relaxing.

“Show me how good I taste then, make me cum, Johnny.” You coo, in a dreamy state that squeezes his chest and fills his heart.

“Need some encouragement first.” He kisses your inner thigh slowly, giving the flesh a nip with his canine. You give the leash two quick tugs, exactly what he’s asking for and exactly how you signal him when you need him. “Atta girl.”

His eyes slowly close as he dives back in, tongue burying into your cunt with licks at the perfect pace, paying extra attention to your clit, his nodding movements ensuring his nose hits the right places. It’s mind-numbing, the way he eats you out with rhythm, your head lolling back and mouth parting, releasing small huffs that elongate into soft moans, sweat prickling down your back and the urge to suddenly rip all your clothes off consumes you. 

“Fuck- fuck, yes, oh God-” you blubber out, chest panting and your grip around the leash becoming loose the more you let pleasure build in your stomach, until it’s on the edge and you don’t want to hold it anymore. It’s been a tight pulling for so long now, winding up with every minute John lapped at your cunt, and he deserves the reward. Your lips turn up in the corners as your wail out a deep and wanton moan, the twisting in your core flushing down your legs and all you can hear is him slurping up an onslaught of cum, his hums of content nothing but overstimulating but the high in your veins and head cradles you. You tilt your head forward lazily, cheeks burning, watching him lap with greed, fast, his fingers digging into your skin as to keep you there until he’s done and you croak out, “Swallow it, swallow all of it, pretty boy. I know you want to.” 

“My good boy, always know what to do. Gimme a kiss.” You push his head away, cum dripping down his chin and take his face in your palms, leaning down and pressing your lips to his, getting a taste of yourself when your tongue finds his.

John slowly stands, his hands sliding to hold your hips, mouth moving with yours as the chain rattles, heads nodding in time with each other and for a moment, you forget the situation you’re in. 

He murmurs against your lips, his stubble rough under your palms and his voice deep, “Think you can take another round, pretty girl?”

“When you’re collared up like this, how can I say no?” You cock your eyebrow at him, leading him through the apartment to the bedroom, the chain dangling between you two as he follows obediently, gaze hooded and filled with desire.

As Friend began to fiddle with the closing, Whumpee had expected a shock, stiffening up to brace for impact; clenching their jaw to avoid biting their tongue. But as the first breeze, the first breath of cold air brushed over their neck, they supressed a shiver as the collar fell to the ground in front of them. They let out a shaky breath, and then another, trying to confirm this was real and not another hallucination.

“Th...” Friend's throat closed up, seeing the lightning circling Whumpee's tender skin, littered with scabbed scratches reaching further up; implying painful, animalistic struggles. He swallowed and took a deep breath. “There you go... feel better?”

“So...” Whumpee sniffled, “so much better.” They turned to the side, refusing to keep looking at the device for longer. So much pain, so, so many tears.

Whumpee was safe now, no one to pursue them, no one to hurt them anymore. Or, so that would be in an ideal world. Before Whumpee's mind could keep on twisting the rescue, they quickly blurted out: “Th-Thank you-- I-”

“I...”

Noticing Friend's extremely concerned face, they stopped, now growing concerned themselves, as Friend's eyes refused to leave their neck.

“It looks... bad... doesn't it?” Whumpee asked, already knowing the answer. Both of them now feeling uncomfortable.

“Ye... Yeah,” Friend struggled to find his voice. “Jesus it... it must've been torture.”

“I-I'm just... glad it's off...” Whumpee said in a somber tone.

It's been just short of three weeks since a Guard had the clever idea of using a tazer to keep Whumpee in line, one of many soldiers who struggled to follow rough orders. In the first second, Whumpee was breathless, barely a welp would escape their lungs as the muscles in their neck contracted and relaxed at impossible frequencies. But after the tazer broke contact with their skin, nothing was preventing them from screaming anymore.

They say a shock collar shouldn't leave scars, but what was that to this organization? A faulty device will only hurt more, all to their benefit.

As Friend walked Whumpee out of the broken grounds, they found it ever more difficult to contain their tears.

“You-- You okay? Sorry if I keep asking...”

OG killer belongs to @/rahafwabas

OG fell belongs to @/underfell