Hi, so I'm designing sonic stickers and finished my first one!! Please feel free to list any that may interest you as this is to sell to people next year on etsy so I can cover my rent at Uni next year and still eat <3
I would love an x reader smut with idol Shadow, but like the reader is a rival idol, and the building tension yk just AAAAAAAA
(I am working on the Chaos Ink AU art dw just settling at uni, but I'll be done soon babes 🖤🖤)
ENCORE
PAIRING — Idol!Shadow x Idol!fem!reader
WARNINGS — NSFW • MDNI 🔞
PROMPT — You and Shadow are rival idols—always competing, always clashing. Ever since he humiliated you during a live interview, you’ve sworn to hate him. But behind the spotlight and the cameras, the tension between you burns hotter than either of you care to admit.
WORD COUNT — ~3.7k
DIVIDERS — @cherryfcola
AUTHOR’S NOTE — Whoa… this one was a ride to write! 😅 I seriously loved this request so much—it was such a fun challenge! I might’ve tweaked Shadow’s personality a little to fit the vibe of the story (forgive me 👀). I might do a part 2...not sure yet.
And don’t stress about the Chaos Ink art—you can take your time with it! :3 I’m just so lucky to have such an amazing artist as my friend 💖
🖤🎤 “Try to keep up out there, will you?”
You grin, finally stepping past him toward the stage door. “Oh, don’t worry. I plan to outshine you.”
🎤
The roar of the crowd was still buzzing in your veins as you held the mic, the last notes of your song echoing through the arena. Lights glared down on you, catching the sweat shimmering across your skin, your breath ragged from the energy of the performance. Thousands of voices were chanting your name, and for a moment—you let yourself soak it in. This stage was yours.
But the show wasn’t over yet.
You pressed a practiced smile to your lips and lifted the mic again.
“Alright, everyone,” you purred into it, voice teasing but steady, “you’ve been waiting long enough. Please welcome the one and only…” You paused, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “…Shadow the Hedgehog!”
The crowd erupted again, screaming louder than they had even for you. That familiar twist of irritation burned in your stomach as you forced yourself to wave, bow slightly, and head offstage.
The moment your heels clicked into the wings, you exhaled and turned—only to collide chest-first into someone solid.
“Watch it,” you muttered, stepping back—only to meet those piercing crimson eyes and the smirk you hated more than anything. Shadow stood there, dressed head-to-toe in black glittering stagewear that hugged him perfectly, oozing the same maddening confidence that made the fans lose their minds.
“Careful,” you added, sarcasm dripping as you crossed your arms. “Wouldn’t want you to trip out there. Though…” you tilted your head, smirking, “I bet the fans would love to see you fall flat on your ass.”
Shadow’s lips curved slowly, and he leaned just close enough that only you could hear over the thunder of the crowd.
“Sweet of you to worry,” he murmured, voice like velvet and smoke. “But unlike you, I don’t stumble.”
He winked before brushing past you, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in his wake as he stepped out into the blinding lights to the screams of thousands.
You stood frozen for a moment, teeth gritted, heart hammering—not that you’d ever admit it.
Damn him.
You leaned against the wall backstage, arms crossed tight, as the crowd screamed his name. Shadow stood in the middle of the stage now, basking in the lights like he owned them, his voice low and magnetic as he slipped into the opening notes of his set.
The audience was eating out of his hand already. They always did.
And you hated it.
Not just because he was good—though you’d admit, begrudgingly, that he was infuriatingly talented—but because of that interview.
Months ago, some reporter had asked him what he thought of the new wave of idols. He hadn’t even hesitated before saying, “Most of them are just faces. Temporary. Pretty voices that’ll fade out in a few years. Forgettable.”
You remembered the smug way he’d looked straight into the camera when he said it.
And when the reporter pushed further—asked about you specifically—he gave the faintest shrug.
“She’s fine,” he said. “Cute, maybe. But nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Your jaw had nearly cracked from how hard you clenched it that night. Fine. Cute. Forgettable. You’d built your career with blood and sweat, and he brushed it off like you were just another name on the roster.
Now, watching him twirl the mic in his hand, crimson eyes sweeping the crowd as if he owned every scream that left their throats, you felt the anger stir all over again.
You despised him.
Not because he wasn’t good—but because he thought you weren’t.
Shadow’s final note rang out, smooth and deliberate, before he tipped the mic down and let the crowd scream themselves hoarse for him. You rolled your eyes from the sidelines, pretending the sight of him—sweat clinging to the sharp line of his jaw, chest rising with every controlled breath—didn’t make your pulse stutter.
When he finally came offstage, he was still glowing with the high of the crowd. You turned, intending to walk the other way, but of course he cut you off, that smug smirk plastered on his face.
“Still standing here?” he said low, brushing past close enough that his shoulder nearly grazed yours. “Enjoying the show?”
You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Please. I’ve seen better at karaoke nights.”
His crimson eyes glinted, and he leaned in just enough that you caught the faintest curl of his cologne.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he murmured, voice velvet and smoke, “if it makes losing easier.”
Your jaw clenched, heat rising in your cheeks—not that you’d ever let him see it.
You weren’t sure what was worse—performing with him on the same stage, or the moments backstage when you inevitably crossed paths.
Like that night after a festival performance. You’d just come offstage, still buzzing from the crowd, when you almost collided with him in the narrow hallway.
“Stalking me now?” you snapped, stepping back.
Shadow’s crimson gaze cut into you, expression unreadable. His voice was calm, even, but carried that familiar bite. “Don’t flatter yourself. Not everything revolves around you.” He brushed past, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Though… you do stare enough to suggest otherwise.”
Your jaw tightened. He didn’t even slow his stride.
At the next award show, you were fixing your makeup when he appeared in the mirror behind you, taking the chair beside yours without a word. His presence alone felt like a challenge.
“Don’t be nervous,” he said flatly, adjusting his tie. “You’re used to losing by now.”
You snapped your compact shut with a glare. “Keep talking. Maybe they’ll invent a trophy for arrogance.”
Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Then I’ll accept it. From you.”
The interviews weren’t any easier. One host leaned forward with a grin and asked about your “famous rivalry.”
You gave a honeyed laugh, tossing your hair. “Oh, it’s not really a rivalry. I just perform better, and he’s been trying to catch up ever since.”
The audience laughed. For half a second, you savored it.
Then Shadow spoke, voice low and firm. “Catch up? No. I’m setting the pace. She just can’t keep up.”
The room exploded with cheers. He didn’t look at them, though—only at you, his gaze unwavering. “You can deny it all you want. But you wouldn’t work this hard if it weren’t for me.”
The words sat heavy, hitting a nerve you refused to show.
Rehearsals for your joint stage were no better. During one sequence, his hand caught your waist, steadying you when you stumbled a half-beat.
“Hands off,” you hissed.
“Relax.” His voice was low, steady, maddeningly calm. “If I wanted more, you’d know.”
You shot him a glare. “Dream on.”
He held your stare for a moment, then turned back to the choreographer without another word. But that faint smirk tugged at his lips, and your pulse wouldn’t settle.
It was always like this.
Even in the smallest, most mundane encounters. Like the time you crossed paths in a narrow hallway, neither moving aside.
“Move,” you demanded, chin lifting.
He folded his arms, cool gaze locking with yours. “Say please.”
You clenched your teeth. “…Trip on stage tonight.”
His smirk was quick, sharp. He leaned in just enough for you to catch his voice. “I won’t fall. But you might.”
And then he was gone, boots silent against the floor, leaving heat rising to your face and your pulse hammering.
Every meeting left your blood boiling. But the truth was creeping in, undeniable: it wasn’t just anger anymore.
You push open the door to your dressing room, expecting the faint smell of hairspray and the hum of the vanity lights. Instead, there’s quiet — a kind of stillness that feels wrong. You pause halfway in, your reflection blinking back at you in the mirror.
Something moves behind you.
A man steps out from behind the curtain — a fan, judging by the badge around his neck. But the look in his eyes isn’t admiration. It’s obsession.
“I knew you’d come back here alone,” he says, voice trembling with excitement. “You don’t have to pretend on stage anymore. You’re meant to be mine. We belong together.”
Your stomach twists, but your face stays composed. “You need to leave before security drags you out,” you warn, stepping back.
He ignores you, moving closer, his hand reaching for your arm—
The door slams open.
Shadow stands there, framed in the doorway, mic still clipped to his collar. The faint blue hallway light cuts across his face — cold, unreadable, until his eyes fall on you and the man standing too close. His voice drops, low and steady:
“Let her go.”
The intruder hesitates, but before he can move, Shadow’s there. His grip is like iron as he rips the man back, slamming him against the wall with a force that makes the whole room shake. His crimson eyes are sharp enough to cut glass.
“You think you can touch her?” Shadow’s voice is quiet but lethal. “You’re done here.”
Security floods in seconds later, alerted by the noise. They drag the man out as he protests, his voice fading down the hall. The room falls silent again, except for the faint sound of your own heartbeat.
You smooth your outfit, fixing a stray strand of hair in the mirror like nothing happened. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say casually. “I could’ve handled it.”
Shadow turns his head toward you, expression still dark. “Didn’t look like it.”
You give him a sideways glance, smirking faintly. “Careful, Shadow. People might think you actually care.”
That gets him. His jaw tightens; he looks away first. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters. “You’re just bad press waiting to happen. Can’t let my rival get herself kidnapped before the show.”
“Right,” you say lightly, brushing invisible dust off your shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to make your performance look bad.”
He exhales, almost like a laugh, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Try to keep up out there, will you?”
You grin, finally stepping past him toward the stage door. “Oh, don’t worry. I plan to outshine you.”
His gaze lingers on you for just a beat — longer than it should — before he mutters something under his breath and follows.
As you step off the stage, the adrenaline still thrums through your veins, but the buzz of the crowd is starting to fade. Shadow is right beside you, his presence as infuriating as ever.
“Need an escort to your dressing room?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.
You roll your eyes. “I think I can manage on my own, thanks.”
He just smirks, that confident glint in his eyes. “I insist. Wouldn’t want you to get any more unwanted visitors.”
You pause, remembering the crazed fan from earlier.
“Fine,” you concede with a sigh. “But don’t get in my way.”
As you step into the dressing room, the door clicking shut behind you, Shadow follows closely, the tension between you palpable. He stands just a breath away, his eyes locked on yours.
"You know," he says, voice low and intense, "for someone I’m supposed to despise, you sure have a way of keeping me on my toes."
You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "I guess that's just part of my charm."
He steps closer, the heat in his gaze making it hard to breathe. "Charm, huh? Sure. Sonething like that."
You roll your eyes, annoyed.
He lets out a soft, almost inaudible laugh, but there's a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. "You know, the fact that we still have this… dynamic after all this time is almost impressive."
You take a step closer, your voice softening. "Maybe it means there's more to it than just rivalry."
The room seems to close in around you both, and you realize that the line between rivalry and something more is blurrier than ever.
Shadow pins you to the wall of the dressing room, the force stealing your breath for a second. The cool surface presses against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat between you. His gloved fingers grip your chin, tilting your head up until your eyes lock with his—those deep crimson irises narrowing, daring you to look away.
He mutters, voice low, dangerous. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
A smirk tugs at your lips. “Maybe I just like getting under your skin.”
His eyes darken. “You do more than that.”
Your heart skips. You try to scoff, but the tension is thick, humming like static between you. “You wish.”
Shadow’s smirk is slow, predatory. “Do I?”
Before you can fire back, he closes the distance—his mouth claiming yours, hot and hungry. The kiss is all teeth and defiance, a collision of pride and want. You don’t hesitate; your hands slide up his chest, tangling behind his neck, pulling him closer until you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your own.
He deepens the kiss, a low sound rumbling from his throat. One hand grabs your thigh and lifts it effortlessly, wrapping your leg around his waist. The movement draws a gasp from you, and he takes advantage—his tongue slipping past your lips, tasting victory.
“Still think you’re in control?” he murmurs against your mouth.
You manage a breathless laugh. “You’re awfully confident for someone who started this.”
“I finish what I start,” he growls, pressing in closer. His hand slides down, capturing yours, guiding it lower until your palm meets the heat straining against his pants.
Your breath catches. His voice drops to a husky whisper, brushing your ear.
“Look,” he says, tone rough with restraint. “Look what you do to me.”
You tilt your head, lips brushing his jaw. “Maybe you should thank me, then.”
His smirk returns, faint and dangerous. “I just might.”
You shift against him deliberately, eyes glinting with mischief. The motion earns you a sharp inhale from Shadow, his grip on your hip tightening.
“Careful,” he mutters against your ear, his voice a low growl. “You’re playing with fire.”
“That’s funny,” you breathe, your lips brushing his jaw, “I thought you liked the burn.”
A soft sound escapes him — something between a laugh and a groan — before his lips find the side of your neck. The kiss is rougher than before, dragging heat down your skin. When his teeth graze you, just enough to make you gasp, he murmurs, “You make it very hard to keep my composure.”
You tilt your head slightly, feigning calm even as your pulse races. “Then don’t.”
His hand slides up your side, gloved thumb tracing the edge of your collarbone before settling just above your heart. The air feels charged, heavy with everything unspoken.
“Tell me this doesn’t mean anything,” he says quietly, testing you.
You meet his gaze — defiant, breathless. “Maybe it doesn’t.”
He smirks, clearly unconvinced, eyes flicking down as if daring you to prove it. The silence between you crackles, filled with challenge and something dangerously close to confession.
Shadow’s eyes darken as he studies you — the shallow rise and fall of your chest, the defiance still clinging to your expression even as your breath trembles. Without a word, he shifts his grip and turns you around, your back pressing to his chest.
You can feel the heat radiating off him, every exhale brushing the back of your neck. His gloved hands slide up your sides, slow, deliberate, tracing over fabric and skin alike until your body arches slightly against him.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your ear, the words more like a challenge than a question. His hands gripping your breasts with a soft squeeze.
You don’t move. You just breathe. The tension thickens, electric.
“Nothing to say now?” he teases, voice dipping low. “You’re quiet for once.”
You smirk faintly, trying to sound composed despite the shiver that betrays you. “Maybe I’m just enjoying watching you lose control.”
He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Lose control? You really think that’s what this is?”
“Isn’t it?” you whisper back.
He leans closer until his lips nearly graze your ear, his tone dark and edged with that familiar arrogance. “I always knew you liked testing limits.”
You turn your head just enough to catch his gaze over your shoulder, the air between you thick with unspoken things. “And I always knew you liked pretending you don’t have any.”
His smirk deepens — the kind that says he’s already two steps ahead. He moves around you again, his eyes drinking in every flicker of defiance on your face.
“I’ve imagined this,” he admits, his voice low and dangerous. “Seeing what you look like when I actually win.”
Your lips curl into a daring smile. “Who says you’ve won?”
“Oh,” he murmurs, stepping closer until there’s barely space to breathe, “I’ll let you figure that out.”
Shadow’s lips capture yours again — firm, deliberate, sending sparks down your spine. His gloved hand lingers at your waist, fingertips tracing lazy patterns that make your pulse quicken. Each movement feels like a silent dare, testing how much control you’ll give him before you pull away.
You don’t.
The air between you feels charged, heavy with everything that’s been building for far too long — every argument, every glare, every stolen glance that lasted a second too long. You can almost taste the tension on your tongue, like lightning before a storm.
His touch drifts lower, fingers brushing the edge of your waistband. You shiver — not from cold, but from the sudden rush of awareness flooding through you. The world seems to narrow to just the sound of your breaths and the quiet rasp of fabric under his hands.
For a moment, you tell yourself it’s just adrenaline. Just the thrill of a challenge. But deep down, you know better. It’s him. It’s always been him. The rivalry, the constant push and pull — it’s been burning in your chest since the first time he smirked at you like he knew exactly how to get under your skin.
And now, standing this close, that fire threatens to consume you both.
He finally stopped the teasing and slowly pulled down your pants, his fingers lightly grazing your skin. He took a moment to admire the view, a smirk playing on his lips. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Dripping wet for me."
You let out a soft moan, trying to maintain your composure, but the sensation of his touch was overwhelming. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me you want this," he whispered, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your body.
He then pulled his own pants down, freeing himself, and let out a low groan as he took himself in hand. His eyes never left yours, a challenge in his gaze. "If you really want me to stop, now would be the perfect time to say it."
You reached out, grabbing him by the collar, pulling him closer. "I don't want you to stop," you whispered back, your voice barely audible.
He responded with a fierce kiss, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every curve and crevice. You could feel the heat building between you, the tension rising with each touch, each breath. He broke away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire.
Shadow positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locked onto yours.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Do it,” you breathed, your voice filled with determination.
He thrust into you with a single, powerful movement, filling you completely. You cried out, your body arching against his as waves of pleasure washed over you. He began to move, his thrusts deep and steady, each one sending shockwaves of sensation through your body.
You met each of his thrusts with your own movements, your bodies moving in perfect sync as you chased the peak of pleasure together.
“Shadow,” you gasped, your voice barely recognizable. With a swift and sure movement, he turned you around, positioning you so that you faced the mirror. You could see your reflection, flushed and desperate, your eyes glazed with desire. Shadow stood behind you, his hands gripping your hips firmly, his body pressing against yours.
“Look at you now,” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing growl. “Moaning my name like the fans do. You’re so beautiful like this.”
You meet his gaze in the mirror, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “You really like the view, huh?” you tease, your voice breathy but laced with amusement. “Enjoying the show?”
Shadow’s grip on your hips tightens, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. “You know I do,” he growls, his voice strained with effort and desire. “And you love every minute of it.”
You can’t deny the truth in his words, even as you continue to tease him. “Maybe I do,” you admit, a soft moan escaping your lips as he hits a particularly sensitive spot. “But don’t think that mean you're winning.”
Shadow’s movements become more intense, his body pounding into yours with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. You can feel the pleasure building within you, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. “We'll see,” he replies, his voice a low, desperate rumble.
With a final, deep thrust, Shadow finds his release, his body shuddering against yours. You hold onto the edge of the surface, your body trembling with the force of your own climax. A breathless laugh escapes your lips as you feel him finish, his body pressing tightly against your back.
Shadow pulls out slowly, his hands still gripping your hips. You turn around to face him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Not bad,” you say, your voice laced with satisfaction. “But I think I want an encore.”
Shadow’s eyes widen in surprise, a mix of amusement and desire flickering in their depths. “You’re insatiable,” he teases, his voice a low, approving rumble.
You step closer, your hands resting on his chest as you lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “And you love it,” you murmur against his mouth.
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