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holllandtrash · 2 years ago

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last call | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

a one shot based on the song last call by jamie miller, i highly suggest listening to it 'Cause when it's last call I wanna be your first call I wanna be your ride home You're gonna be my downfall

word count: 7.4k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, alcohol consumption

Max Verstappen was a lot of things.

He was a world champion, for starters. A two-time world champion, a title he carried proudly. He was on his way to claim that title for the third time, but he didn’t let the arrogance or the ease of it get to his head, there was still work to do this season.

He was a son and a brother. He cared about his family more than the media would ever know, always painting him as some sort of villain on and off the track to which it got to the point that Max simply stopped trying to change people’s opinions. His family knew who he was, he didn’t need to make any adjustments for them.

He was a friend, and a damn good one if he said so himself. To be fair, it was difficult to see the mates he grew up with when his job took him around the world and back, but he never forgot his roots. He cherished any time he got to spend with those in his close circle. He had a rule too, no phones. If he was with his friends, nothing on his phone mattered. That was also why he was deemed ‘antisocial’ during any breaks, however long. God forbid he not take any photos of him having a good time to prove he knows how to have a good time.

Last but most certainly not least, on Friday and Saturday nights in Monaco, he was a chauffeur.

Your chauffeur.

Neither of you were quite sure when this whole arrangement started, but did that really even matter?

Max pulled up alongside the curb of the club and sent you a text. A minute later you came walking out the doors, a grin plastered on your face as you said your goodbyes to your friends.

As you walked around the front of the car, Max tried to not let his gaze linger on the way your skirt showcased the length of your legs and how in a matter of a seconds you’d be sitting next to him and he’d be thanking his lucky stars he drove a manual so he had a reason to keep his hand off of you.

You climbed into the passenger side of his car, the seat was already adjusted to your height. There was an unopened bottle of water in the cup holder. An artist you listened to was already quietly playing through the speakers. Even if Max didn’t get a heads up that you were going out tonight, he knew what to do when you called him.

He knew that if the seat was pushed back you would complain, jokingly. He knew that you’d ask if he had water somewhere in his car and he knew that you’d ask for help to connect your phone to Bluetooth, if it hadn’t already died.

And while Max liked that routine, he also liked seeing your face light up when you realised you no longer needed to ask for anything.

“Hi,” you turned in your chair to face him. You were smiling, but you had been smiling all night. Did you mean any of them in the last few hours? The answer was unknown, but you certainly meant it now. You took one look at Max and you couldn’t help but smile, it was your body’s natural reaction, just like how you turned to face him as soon as you sat down.

“Fun night?” He asked. He always asked that, but you both knew he didn’t care about what you got up to inside the walls of the nightclub. If he cared, he would have joined you the number of times you politely asked him to when you saw him in passing when you left the flat. But Max just wasn’t a nightclub kind of person.

“Yeah,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Yeah, Rina’s a bit of a handful, but it was fun.”

“You stayed out late,” Max pointed out, but not in a type of way you would expect a parent to discipline their kid. It was simply Max calling attention to the time, the same time as always.

This was a habit you had fallen into, unintentionally.

Wherever you were, whatever establishment, when their bartenders yelled for last call, you pulled out your phone and called Max. The call for the last round of drinks was your reminder that you needed to go home and luckily, there was someone who would pick you up, every time, without fail.

It was convenient that you two lived in the same building. It may have been in passing that Max offered for you to ever call him if you needed something, but neither of you expected it to spiral into this.

He was just being friendly. It was the neighbourly thing to do.

Which is why you were hesitant the first time you called Max when you needed a ride home. But all of your friends had left you, you lost your credit card somewhere on the dance floor and in your state of mind, you were in no position to try and walk the streets of Monte Carlo alone.

So you called him, apologising about a dozen times but through the line you heard him get up from bed with a quiet sigh. You heard the jingle of keys and it wasn’t long before you finally heard Max’s car roar to life and he told you he’d be there in ten minutes.

That pattern of sounds became music to your ears before you knew it. The faint grunt as he stood up, the keys twirling around his finger, his car turning on.

Breath, keys, car. It was clockwork. It was something you pretty much expected at this point when you called him.

And Max, well Max knew it was pointless to even lay down, but he did on the off chance you didn’t go out. You always went out.

Max had a good heart. He wanted his friends to be safe and somehow, you had wormed your way into that layer of his life. You were one of his friends. And he would rather you call him every Friday night than have to wake up in the morning and not know if you got home at all.

It was convenient that he was home for the break. He was in Monaco. He could be there for you when you needed him, and he would be.

But that pegged the question, what did you do when he was away? When he was racing? When he was across the globe fighting for championship points, who did you call to pick you up at the end of the night?

Max never asked. In fact, the topic of his job never came up with you. You knew he was a Formula 1 driver, he mentioned it subtly, well he thought it was subtle, it really wasn't. And when you said “Oh yeah, my dad watches that. He likes Josef Newgarden,” Max bit his tongue so as to not tell you that your dad was referring to an IndyCar driver, a completely different series.

You knew very little about the sport. Even with Monaco being the pinnacle track of Formula 1, you never bothered to learn about it or keep up with it. Maybe that’s why Max found it so easy to talk to you in the first place. You never once saw him as a driver. You just saw him as your neighbour and on some nights, your chauffeur.

So one could imagine his surprise when you brought up his career during that drive home.

“When do you go back?” You asked, slight hesitancy in your tone as this was not a topic you knew well, your vocabulary was limited. “To racing?”

“Two weeks,” Max answered. “It’ll be my home race.”

He pulled up to a red light and glanced at you, instantly recognising that the term home race was not one you were familiar with, but you nodded as though you did.

“It’s in the Netherlands,” he further clarified. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you were reminded that he was Dutch.

“That’ll be fun,” you added.

Why was this awkward? Neither of you were usually ones for small talk. Usually you would get in the car and talk about the characters you saw that you knew he’d get a laugh at. You would be chatting his ear off, that was part of the routine.

And tonight, you were struggling to fill the silence. Max couldn’t tell why.

You knew why, however.

It was because when you were out tonight, your friend Rina was whisked away by someone who asked to dance with her. She blushed, her cheeks and neck turning bright red before saying yes and taking his hand to lead her towards the dance floor.

You watched with amusement, happy for your friend, but there was that sinking feeling of jealousy settling in the pit of your stomach. Granted, the man she was dancing with was not your type. He was tall, too tall, with dark features, an arm of tattoos. Sure he seemed charming and he certainly knew how to dance, but you weren’t jealous he had chosen Rina instead of you.

You were jealous that your friend had someone to dance with.

And you had been asked a few times by strangers to join them under the lights, but you turned down all of them. They weren’t people you wanted to spend your time with. They didn’t give you butterflies when you thought about the potential of starting something new with a stranger from the club.

No, you got those butterflies when you climbed into the passenger seat of Max’s car. They were faint, they came as fast as they went. They could have been mistaken for nausea if you weren’t certain you only had two drinks tonight.

But they were there.

Which led to your next thought, if Max ever asked you to dance, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

And you had been attracted to Max since the first day you saw him, basically, but you kept those feelings to yourself, even as they grew from a physical attraction to more.

Recently, however, they had been getting harder and harder to ignore.

So maybe that’s why you were struggling to move past this silence right now. You were suddenly looking at Max in a very different light. He was your friend, yes, but he had proven time and time again that he would show up for you, that he wouldn’t hesitate to pick you up no matter that hour. None of your other friends made that commitment to you.

But you would never act on any of it. The thoughts, the feelings. Max had never once hinted that he was interested, he was just nice. He was wholesome, despite what you had heard in the media. He was just looking out for you.

So when he walked you to the door of your flat that evening, you said goodnight like you usually did and you headed inside.

You had no idea that Max lingered in the hallway for a minute, debating with himself whether or not he should knock on your door. He’d done it before, making up some excuse to talk to you for just another few minutes.

Because the truth was, Max enjoyed the time he spent with you, even if it was limited to those car rides from the club to your apartment complex. He liked not knowing which version of you would climb into the passenger seat. While you were almost always talkative, there were times when all you wanted was a coffee at an ungodly hour. There were times when you were complaining about the people you met. There were times when you couldn’t stop laughing to the point that Max had to pull over because your laughter was angelic and contagious and he wasn’t about to risk getting into an accident because the two of you couldn’t contain yourselves.

Max liked the fact that you always called him at the end of the night.

For some weird reason, he liked that you were thinking of him. It made him so unbelievably happy to know that when the bartender yelled for ‘last call’ at the end of the night, he was your first call.

But those phone calls were only ever restricted to Friday and Saturday nights. And only when he was in Monaco. While you didn’t understand Formula 1, you must have followed it a bit to know when he wasn’t home. You never called him during a race weekend.

Except that one night last year when he was in Austin. It was just after 2am in Monaco, but Max was sitting down and having dinner in his hotel room. For you, it was early Sunday morning. For him it was still Saturday.

And it was because you didn’t recognise the pattern, you didn’t hear the breath, the keys, the car, you instantly knew that this was a weekend where he was away. He was working, racing, whatever he wanted to call it.

“Oh fuck,” you blurted out before Max could say anything. Your exclamation was met with a hefty laugh. He wasn’t annoyed in any means that you had called him while he was away, just a bit surprised is all.

“I can order you an uber,” He instantly offered. You heard the sound of him shifting on the bed and his voice then echoed as it bounced off the walls of his hotel room, like he turned on the speakerphone, like he was already looking for the app to order you an uber from halfway across the world.

“I can do that myself,” you argued.

The line was silent for a moment. You were both thinking the same thing. Why didn’t you just always call an uber? Why did you always rely on Max to drive you home?

Neither of you voiced that question. You had your own answers, but if they didn’t match up then that would lead to an entirely different conversation, one that you could do without, one that had the risk of ruining whatever sort of pattern you had fallen into.

“You okay? Did you have a fun night?” Max moved on, not wanting to think about how you were probably ordering that car for yourself. If he was in Monaco right now, he’d already be in the elevator down to the parking garage.

“Yeah, it was good,” your words slurred together. Not enough to alarm Max, but he knew you. He knew that the more you drank, the more honest you were.

You proved that point about two seconds later.

“Honestly, Jordan’s just fucking annoying,” you sighed. Max could picture you running your hands through your hair, you did that often, but especially when something was eating at you and right now, it was your friend Rina’s boyfriend. Boyfriend? Boy toy? Ex? Max tried to keep up, but there was a new label every week. It’d be easier to stay up to date with your life and the ‘drama’ that circled it if you saw him more than once or twice a weekend, but he wasn’t about to put that thought in your head and potentially scare you off. What you had was fine. The late night calls, the last calls turned first calls was fine.

“What happened now?” Max asked.

“Well we literally told him not to come out, Rina’s still pissed after what he did last week- oh shit, hang on.”

While you searched for what Max could only assume was a credit card or your lip gloss or something that should have fallen out of your pockets by now, he thought back to what Jordan did last week.

You sighed heavily into the receiver, “...what was I saying?”

“Rina’s still mad,” Max reminded you. “She hasn’t forgiven him for getting drunk at her parents anniversary dinner?”

You laughed, “God you have a better memory than me. I had to ask Rina why we were giving him the cold shoulder tonight.”

Point for Max.

Why did this little victory mean so much to him?

“Anyway, he tried to make it up to her tonight by buying all of her drinks but then his card declined like an hour in, who lives in fucking Monte Carlo and can’t afford drinks? He’s a fake, is what he is and Rina deserves so much better. I have a theory he’s-”

“That he's from Nice,” Max finished with his own chuckle. “Want me to hire a P.I. to look into it?”

There was a pause and then a very serious, “Can you actually do that?”

“I could but I was joking,” Max said. He could picture your pouty bottom lip. It was a good thing you weren’t actually with him. He probably would have given in and found a private investigator within an hour.

“Oh I think my uber- yeah that’s it,” you said, more to yourself than to him as your voice trailed off at the end. “I’m sorry for calling. I knew you were in Austin, I just- I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Max told you. “You don’t ever need to apologise for calling me. You know that if I was home I’d come pick you up, right?”

A faint inhale, one that held so many feelings that your words could never express, “I know.”

“Get home safe, okay?”

“I will,” you assured him. “And good luck today. Or- tomorrow, I guess. I know you’ll kill it.”

This was how Max knew you weren’t keeping up with Formula 1. He had officially claimed his second world championship title last weekend in Japan. He could quite literally sit out of the remaining races and still hold enough points to safely stand at the top of the driver standings.

But he wasn’t going to tell you that because he knew you’d instantly feel bad for not knowing, for not congratulating him. In your head, the championship fight went until the end of the season and typically it would, but this year was different for Max.

Max just said thank you and you both hung up. You climbed into the backseat of an uber where there was no water waiting for you and you didn’t dare ask for the driver to play Harry Styles. Max laid back on his bed, pushing his tray of room service aside as he stared up at the hotel ceiling.

When he returned that following Monday, Max was surprised to see dark blue streamers hanging on the outside of his door. There was a card shoved halfway underneath the door and he opened it up, looking at the delicate handwriting that read ‘heard you’re a world champion or whatever, let me know if you want to celebrate, I don’t mind picking you up for a change’.

Max laughed as he read the card. It was very you. You didn’t give two shits about the driver championship and Max loved that. He loved that you found reasons to be his friend outside from the fact that he was a Formula 1 driver. You didn’t care that his name came with power, wealth, fame, but you still showed your support with the little you knew about racing. You were a good friend to him.

And that’s what it was. Friendship. Why else would you have written, ‘I don't mind picking you up for a change’? You weren’t offering to celebrate with him, you were offering to be the designated driver after he went out with his group of friends, the friends that did care about his career.

Max would have gone out and celebrated with you. He would have said yes in a heartbeat, if you asked.

But you didn't. The closest that you came to going out with him was when you politely invited him to join you on your evenings out with your close circle, but Max was an afterthought. You never knocked on his door and invited him out, it was only if you passed him in the hallway or if the elevator doors opened and he was standing on the other side.

And Max said the same thing every time. ‘Nah, you have fun. Let me know if you need a ride home.’

Max thought you were just being friendly, neighbourly, but the truth was, you were waiting for the day where he said ‘Yeah, why not?’.

You never went out of your way to ask him out because of the rejection you had received in passing. How embarrassing would it be if you knocked on his door only to be met with the same rejection? To see the look of pity on his face as the door slowly shut.

There was a lot of uncertainty when it came to how you saw him or how he saw you and the only thing that was certain, was that you were friends.

So that’s why Max didn’t knock on your door now and make up some excuse about how you left his lip gloss in his car. He returned to his room and found himself staring up at the ceiling of his flat at 2:30 in the morning, something he had gotten quite used to, until sleep took over as he was thinking about how maybe next time, maybe next Friday, he’ll make a proper move.

But a wrench was thrown into his plans when your name lit up his phone screen a few days later. It wasn’t weird that you were calling him, what he couldn’t understand was why. It was a little after three on a Wednesday. Your conversations, the phone calls, the late night drives, they were confined to weekends.

Max answered though, maybe you left work early and accidentally drank too many sangrias on a patio. He’d pick you up, of course, this was just very unlike your pattern.

He expected to hear the slurring of words. He could understand drunk you enough to piece together what you were saying.

But the sharp inhale through your words, this was new. It was clear you were actively trying to not cry into the phone, trying to hold yourself together but Max heard it as your meek ‘hi’ came through the receiver.

And god did it break him.

“Where are you?” Max asked, already sliding his shoes on practically sprinting towards the elevator. Of course it was stuck on the main floor. No matter how many times he pressed the button, that steel boxed moved too damn slowly for his own good.

“Horizon,” you sniffed. Max recognized that restaurant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know who to call. Can you-”

“I’m already on the way.”

It wasn’t far. Max pulled up outside the restaurant in under ten minutes. You were sitting on a bench, dark shades covering your eyes but Max caught the way you raised your hand to wipe your cheeks before climbing into the car.

He didn’t even think to grab tissues before leaving his flat, but he had a feeling you would just deny them anyway. If he knew anything about you, he knew you weren’t one to cry. You had a very hard exterior, you felt things deeply, but you didn’t cry. Not in front of other people.

“Can we just- I don’t know, can we just drive for a bit?” you kept your gaze on the road in front of you. This wasn’t like you and Max would do anything to see the light in your eyes, to see your bright smile that made getting out of bed at 2 in morning worth it every time.

Max nodded, getting the idea that you didn’t want to talk. Or if you did, it would be on your own accord. You crossed one leg over the other and Max glanced at the beige romper you wore. He didn’t point out the dark red stain on your hem, but you rubbing at it was certainly not going to get it out. He could only assume it was wine? Did you spill wine on yourself at lunch? Who were you even out for lunch with?

And then he noticed you playing with the ring on your middle finger, again this wasn’t like you. You didn’t fidget and if you did, you’d play with the strands of your hair.

Max had seen you drunk, he’d seen you a few drinks in, he’d seen you sober.

He’d never seen you so upset over something before, though. The silence in the car was heavy. Whatever was on your mind, he wished there was a way for him to take some of the weight off of you.

He wasn’t travelling in any particular direction, just aimlessly around Monaco, but after the seconds turned to minutes, Max saw you visibly relax against the seat of his car.

“Do you know what I do?” You asked him, pulling your sunglasses off.

You both turned your faces towards each other. Faint mascara smudges stained the corner of your eyes. Your cheeks were still rosy, your jaw was clenched in anticipation of the rest of the conversation. This wasn’t the you that Max was used to, but it was a version of you he wanted to get to know. He wanted to know every side of you, even the sides you tried to hide behind sunglasses and spilled wine and choked back tears.

“Job wise?” Max asked for clarification. “Yeah, you’re ah- an environmental consultant? Right?”

You were a little impressed that he knew, but to be fair, you’ve had hundreds of conversations with Max and you weren’t sober for all of them. The discussion of jobs probably slipped your mind.

“I like my job,” you stated.

“Good. That’s important.”

“So why do I feel stuck?”

Max licked his lower lip, “Elaborate.”

“I’ve been doing the same thing since I graduated,” you told him, looking out the window again. Slowly, the Monte Carlo skyline was disappearing into the side mirrors. “And I like it, I do. I like the company I work for. I like the people I work with, but why does it feel like that’s the only thing I have going for me in life right now?”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Max sighed, but if he was being honest, he had no idea. What he knew about you was minimal and it killed him.

You nodded, but it was just out of politeness so as to not argue that he was wrong.

A few more minutes passed before you inhaled the heaviest breath your lungs could take.

“My sister’s engaged. Rina’s moving to Milan at the end of the summer. My brother travels for a living and I just- I’m not doing anything.”

So that’s what this was about. Max was smart, he could put the pieces together. You talked about your siblings a bit, but you never mentioned your sister getting married before. The way you were looking down at your hand throughout this drive told Max that this late lunch was you meeting your sister so she could announce the good news.

And something as big as that would undoubtedly send someone spiralling, making them question their own life choices, the path they were on. As long as Max has known you, you’ve had the same job, same friends, no partner.

Your best friend moving was not new either, you had excitedly told Max about her job offer a few weeks back, but maybe it was just sinking in now. Everyone around you was moving onto bigger and better things and you were, as you put it, stuck.

“I think I need a change of scenery,” you admitted quietly.

Which was not what Max wanted to hear.

Selfishly, he didn’t want you to leave Monaco. Even though he was the one who was gone so many weeks out of the year for the races, he liked knowing you would always be there when he returned home. That you were just down the hall.

Before Max could try and talk you out of moving, you reached across the centre console and put your hand over his, the one that rested on the gear stick. This wasn’t the first time you had done this, Max knew you to be a little handsy when you were drinking, but you seemed to be sober this time.

“I’m sorry for calling you,” you said, even though you really didn’t need to apologise. “I didn’t know who else to call and I just, I needed to breathe.”

Max found comfort in that.

That he was someone you could clear your head with, that you didn’t need to put on an act around him. In a way, you trusted him. You must have if he was your first call after your sister dropped a bombshell.

When the two of you found your way back to the apartment complex, Max walked you to the door like he always did. Your flushed cheeks had returned to its normal colour. Your eyes no longer looked glossed over. And the smile you gave him seemed genuine.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open and something in Max screamed now or never and before he knew it, he was reaching for your hand to keep you from going inside. He pulled you back to face him and the expression you wore was unreadable.

Max froze.

Something that he never did.

He was always calm and collected, always ahead of his thoughts, always knew what to do and when to do it.

But that was thanks to his training and his training only prepared him for driving at ridiculous speeds and navigating dozens of race tracks and thinking on his feet in tough situations while he sat behind the wheel of an F1 car.

His training didn’t prepare him for how stunned he would feel as he met your eyes, grabbing your attention for the first time outside the safety net of his regular car.

Whatever Max wanted to say, it had now vanished and he had no choice but to rely on the words that he had told you many times before.

“You know you don’t need to apologise for calling me, right?” Max said, his hand falling from yours.

“I know,” a faint breath of laughter followed your assurance.

“And for the record-” Max paused. “I don’t think you’re stuck. I think you’re right where you need to be.”

Max’s words stayed with you for the next few days. In fact, they were all you could think about, even when you met Rina Saturday night at your usual spot. She had ordered you a drink, she was a few in herself already and you had barely taken a sip when she brought up the idea of you moving to Milan with her.

You almost spit out the cocktail, “I- what? Move with you? Rina, my job’s here.”

“Yeah but you’re so experienced, I’m sure you could find another one in Milan,” Rina stuck out her lower lip. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do without my best friend.”

While you might have contemplated moving a few days ago, you weren’t sure you were really ready to leave Monaco. This was your home, you loved it here. Despite what you said to Max about feeling stuck, his words were burned into your mind.

You weren’t stuck. You had no reason to leave. You wanted to be here.

You just had a momentary lapse of judgement.

“I’m not moving, Rina,” you sighed, connecting your hand with hers. “But I’ll visit and you can too. I’m still your best friend, even if we’re in different countries.”

She knew better than to plead her case any more, deciding that spending the night drinking and dancing was more fun than thinking about her upcoming move.

And before you knew it, the DJ made an announcement for the last call at the bar and you were pulling out your phone to call Max.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Rina said, or rather, yelled, as the music was still blaring. She saw his contact on your screen, she saw the way the corner of your lips were pulled upwards when you thought about being with him shortly.

“Because I don’t feel anything,” you shouted back. It was a lie. A bold faced lie that your friend saw right through but didn’t push you any more on it.

She walked with you to the curb. Max rolled down the window and waved to her, offering her a ride as well. But Rina denied it, she knew this was your time to be with Max.

“Get home safe, I love you,” you called out, hand gripping the handle of the passenger side door. Rina blew you a kiss and then you climbed in.

Max reached into the backseat and grabbed the bottle of water he had tossed there when he left his apartment. He waited until taking a sip before asking if you had a fun night.

“Yeah, Rina asked me to move to Milan with her,” you answered, wiping the corner of your mouth. You looked at Max expectantly, trying to gauge what his answer would be. Surely the man who told you that you were in the right place wasn’t going to encourage you to move.

Max just hummed and put the car into drive. He waited until you were a few minutes away from the club to say anything, as if seeing Rina standing on the sidewalk in the rearview mirror was somehow going to make this conversation harder.

“What did you-” Max stopped himself and chose something else to say, “You’re not moving, though. Right?”

And then you saw it. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concern. The way his hand clenched over the gear lever. The way his jaw tightened as he fought with himself before asking if you were in fact leaving.

Max didn’t want you to go.

That thought alone made your stomach turn in knots, but not the kind you felt when you were sick. You were most definitely not sick, you could have been floating on cloud 9 when you realised Max wanted you to stay in Monaco.

“Are you kidding?” You retorted, feeling a burst of confidence. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you had been drunk before and never once tried flirting. No time like the present. “Think of how inconvenient it would be for you to drive to Milan every time I go clubbing.”

Max chuckled, his features softening as the lines around his lips made an appearance. God you loved his smile.

“Oh so you’re staying for my sake? Well that’s- that’s really kind of you. Thank you.”

He stopped at a red light and turned to you. The heavy weight that was lingering on his shoulders when you mentioned moving had disappeared instantly. You weren’t going anywhere. You would still be here when Max returned from his races. You’d be here during the break. You’d be here, calling his phone on those Friday and Saturday nights when you needed a ride home.

“Can I ask you something?” Max spoke quietly, waiting until you nodded before getting something off his mind that had been there since this whole driving arrangement started. “Who do you call when I’m not in Monaco?”

Your smile was soft as the corner of your lips were tugged upwards. Max, if he wanted to, could have convinced himself it was the alcohol that caused you to be all smiley, but he also wanted to believe he had something to do with it.

Dropping your gaze for a moment, you parted your lips, closed them again, and then took a breath as Max waited for your response.

“Max, I don’t go out when you’re not in Monaco.”

He was thinking he didn’t hear you correctly. Maybe you said you called some guy named Marco. That made more sense. You called a back-up rather than put your evening social life on pause while he was away.

He needed clarification, “What?”

You laughed this time, looking out the windshield. The traffic light was still red, but Max didn’t need to rely on the soft glow of the street light to make out the shade of pink that was climbing up your neck and cheeks.

“I don’t go out clubbing when you’re not in Monaco,” you repeated. He had heard you correctly.

Max wasn’t sure what to think.

He felt like an idiot, for starters. If he had known you wanted to see him, to spend time with him, he would have put an effort in to join you during your nights out. Or better yet, maybe he would have asked you on a date.

But he was clueless. He didn’t know that you relied on those calls at the end of the night because you were too shy to actually ask him out like a normal person would. You were too afraid of stepping outside of this pattern you both fell into because what if it didn’t work out?

Now it was all out in the open. The only reason you went out as much as you did when he was home was because you used it as an excuse to call him, to see him.

The blaring of a horn from the car behind him caused Max to shift gears, quite literally and metaphorically. He took off, having missed the light turn green, and his attention went back to the road.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at you, he did. He very much wanted to continue this conversation but he was at a loss for words.

The silence only grew during the drive back to your building. In the corner of his eye, he could see you shifting in the seat. You kept turning your phone on and off, hoping there would be texts to distract you from this hush that had fallen over the car. You were overthinking everything now, did you say the wrong thing? Would it have been better if you didn’t say anything?

Max too was overthinking everything. Had he misread signs you had tried to give him? Was he now making things worse by not acknowledging what you had said? With each passing second, it became more and more unbearable as you sat in anticipation for what sort of conversation was going to come next.

When Max finally pulled into the parking garage underneath the building, you couldn’t have reached for the door handle faster. You wanted to go inside, to forget you had said anything. God you even debated deleting his number from your phone so you didn’t risk calling him again the next time you went out.

But Max was quick too.

He knew he had to do something to make up for how painful this car ride was, something that showed you he was on the same page as you, that he too looked forward to the moments he was home just so he could wait for your phone call.

He stepped out of the car when you did, walking around the front instead of heading towards the elevator. You kept your eyes down, planning on just walking right past him, and you would have, had Max not grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you into his body.

His fingers moved from your hand to your waist as his other hand cupped the side of your face and you finally looked at him for the first time since you got into the car.

Now it was your turn to be at a loss for words, but that didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t like you had time to say anything before Max took that leap, crossed the line, and pressed his lips to yours.

And it was everything you had been waiting for.

Max leaned against the hood of his car as you slid your hand up his shirt, grabbing the thin material as you wasted no time in kissing him back. His mouth was tender and soft as it moved against yours, both of you feeling the same intensity that had been building up for weeks, maybe even months now.

It took everything in Max to not drag you back into the car and pull you on his lap in the driver's seat, an image that he had painted in his head a while ago. Instead, his grip on your waist just tightened, holding you against his chest the way he had been wanting to for a while now.

Your nose brushed against his when you pulled back, your gaze lingered on his lips before finally darting upwards.

The parking garage was quiet, there was a low hum that came from the pipes above you. The overhead lights did nothing to set any sort of mood, but you couldn’t imagine a better place to share a first kiss with Max.

You weren’t in the safety of his car, a place that had become so comfortable to you. By waiting until you stepped out, by stopping you from walking to the elevator, Max was showing you that this was something he wanted and he wanted it when the car ride was over. He wanted it before you called him, before you went out for the night, before the weekend even started.

He relaxed against the hood of his car, both of you sharing similar looks of serenity. There was no more confusion, no more wavering uncertainty.

His fingers brushed through your hair before bringing your lips to his once more.

And then there it was, that smile of yours that made getting into his car two in the morning so fucking worth it.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Max asked. He now knew the answer wouldn’t be going out with friends, that was reserved for when he was home.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure, why?”

“Well you said you wanted a change of scenery, right?” Max recalled your conversation from earlier this week. “How about the Netherlands?”

“You want me to come to a race?” You were probably the last person who should be invited to a Grand Prix and Max knew this, he even laughed at your doubtful response.

“I really do,” he said.

“I don’t know anything about Formula 1.”

Max rubbed his thumb over your side, the simple gesture was enough to have your body curving against his once more.

“I have all of next week to give you a crash course,” he pointed out. “If you’re interested.”

And of course you were. There’s nothing else you wanted more than to spend your evenings with Max, to learn more about his career, to learn about him. When your lips curved upwards into another smile, Max knew you were on board.

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You go out with me the next weekend you’re in Monaco.”

Max dipped his head back and laughed. You rested your hand at the nape of his neck, pulling his face back to yours.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he chuckled. “And I will, but we’ll be leaving before last call.”

“That’s fine with me as long as you still take me home,” you pressed your lips together tightly, trying to contain your eagerness for the night that was still far in the future. Max brushed his thumb over your lower lip. He too was thinking ahead.

Not just to that upcoming weekend, but every weekend after and all of the days inbetween.

Coming home to Monaco was always something he looked forward to, but now he had even more of a reason to anticipate the breaks between races. You two didn’t have to wait until a Friday evening to see each other anymore.

He didn’t have to be your first call at the end of the night, but you both knew he still would be, and so much more.

He’d be your first call when you got home from work and you’d be his when he landed in a new country. You’d be the first person to call him after watching his winning performance of a race and likewise, you’d be the first person he wanted to talk to, the first person he wanted to celebrate with.

There’d be a lot of firsts moving forward, but you didn’t need to wait until last call anymore.

masterlist here

this was mostly for @tsarinablogs and @estevries

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen au #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen one shot #mv1 #mv 1 fanfic #max au #f1 one shot #f1 instagram au #f1 requests

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ddodol · 4 months ago

Text

new heights — o.sr

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, pilot!shotaro, fem flight attendant!reader, pet names, taro is a playboy in this one but the reader likes playing with fire :3, quick and messy, unprotected sex, overstimulation. word count⭑.ᐟ 2.3k+

a/n; peep taro's nct era vogue photoshoot </3 i love model taro, i have more in the vault and i'll use them i promise <3

you’ve experienced losing a close work friend one too many times already, all because of one man. you swore to yourself you won’t make the same mistake, especially since the pay was high and you were still waiting on that promotion.

but osaki shotaro just makes it hard not to make you like him.

a sickeningly bright smile, voice deep and sweet, his words smooth like butter as he asked you a very simple question: “are you free tonight, y/n?”

you could hear your heart pounding against your chest, body heating up as you stared up at him. tonight’s flight took a lot out of you and the tiredness must’ve driven you insane because why the fuck were you actually considering his offer?

you quickly snapped out of it, flashing him a professional smile. “i’d rather sleep early tonight, we have a flight early morning after all.”

shotaro’s eyes narrowed at you, his smile faltering a little. he knew how difficult it was to get to you— he should know, he’s been trying for months. you always had your guard up, maybe even holding a little bit of grudge whenever you’d look his way.

shotaro knew it all. your hatred for him and the thoughts running through your pretty little mind whenever he greets you, at the same time, he knew you were curious. shotaro only saw it once briefly when you caught him getting intimate with another flight attendant— the brief look of interest and curiosity as he fucked someone in front of you.

he kept his eyes on you as your eyes lingered, amused with the way your breath hitched in your throat and cheeks flushed up. shotaro knew he couldn’t let you down, hips moving frantically with precision as he stared right at you. the girl he had bent over was blissfully unaware, moaning carelessly as she assumed that she was the one making him feel that way when in reality it was all you.

since then, shotaro had been pursuing you with steadfast dedication. there’s been less people transferring stations or quitting altogether and you knew that meant shotaro hadn’t been sleeping around like he used to. it confused you at first but you paid it no mind, though it was starting to get inconvenient because that meant your promotion would get pushed back.

”y/n?”

you snapped out of your trance, staring up at shotaro. he still had a sweet smile on his face, looking innocent and harmless but you could tell how hungry he was.

”did you hear what i said?” you blinked at him before shaking your head. shotaro’s smile became wider, “i said i can help you fall asleep tonight, what do you think?”

it was a bold offer, especially since you’ve been denying all his offers to go out for meals.

”so you just decided to stop beating around the bush, huh?” shotaro chuckled softly, the sound almost tickling your ears. has he always been this intoxicating?

you pushed through him, leaving him behind as you gathered your things. “i’ll never sleep with you, so stop bothering me.”

shotaro maintained his smile, trailing right behind you. “i know you think of me too; how you want me to take you, imagining yourself underneath me, moaning and whimpering for more—”

you stopped in your tracks and whipped your head towards him, staring at him with wide eyes. your face was fully flushed as if you just got caught. shotaro laughed in satisfaction, taking in the new expression he just unlocked. it was a desperate attempt to rile you up for sure but shotaro also wanted to confirm if you had also been thinking of him since then.

”you’re cuter than i thought, y/n,” he smirked, staring down at you smugly. “tell me what you need and i’ll give it to you— you know i can.”

your breath hitched in your throat, head spinning at his words. admittedly, flying continuously was starting to drain a lot out of you and that also included all your lustful desires. it hadn’t even been a week since then and yet he was all you could think about when you touch yourself at night— imagining yourself bent over for him, moaning for more as you move your hips desperately, just like he said.

nonetheless, you continued to ignore him. shotaro didn’t seem to mind much, he knew you’d come around to the idea soon, finding his offer beneficial for the both of you.

a few more days pass and you get increasingly more cranky, growing more sexually frustrated along with longer flight periods. every time you get a quick peek of shotaro, you find yourself pausing to appreciate how handsome he looks in his uniform, always looking so sleek and handsome. you wanted him to make a mess of you, desperately so.

that day couldn’t have come any sooner, learning that shotaro was the first officer for tonight’s flight which gives him the time to sneak out and mess around if he wanted to. you knew you had to do something soon or else you’ll go insane, skin tingling as you thought of how good shotaro would treat you.

you impatiently waited for shotaro to leave the cockpit, quickly dragging him to the rest compartments once you saw him. it was an evening flight and you knew not a lot of people would need much assistance, deciding to make use of this time more effectively.

shotaro stared at you in shock, chuckling in disbelief that you were just dragging him around as you pleased. “did i miss something?” he asked in an uncharacteristically small voice, clearly confused by the situation. he could tell by the look on your face that you were in a rush, smiling in amusement as you shuffled around to take your stockings off.

”let me,” he whispered in a sultry tone, hand sliding up your thighs and easily ripping a hole into your stockings. shotaro flashed you a smug smile, biting his lower lip as his fingers lingered around your heat.

”take it off,” you whispered back, pushing his stuffy uniform off. shotaro chuckles, enjoying how eager you were.

shotaro stared at your face as he mindlessly took his jacket off, fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt underneath just enough to expose his muscular chest. you had a slight blush on your cheeks, lips parted open and huge eyes filled with desire— too eager and needy for him. he chuckled softly, licking his lip as he pushed you back onto one of the bunk beds.

you pulled him close, hiking your skirt up as you wrapped your legs around his waist. he grinned, “you’re letting me see your face, baby? and here i thought you wanted it quick and messy.”

“just fuck me, shotaro.”

he hummed, smiling, “call me taro, baby. shotaro sounds so distant and i want to feel all of you.” shotaro had a mischievous glint in his eyes, staring at your lips as he waited for you to call him by his nickname.

”taro,” you spoke softly, cupping his cheek with one hand, “fuck me already, this is all i’ve been thinking about for a whole week.” shotaro bit his lip, reaching a hand down to unbuckle his pants, soon freeing his semi-erect cock.

your breath hitched in your throat, body growing hotter in anticipation— you were finally getting what you wanted. all those sleepless nights you spent alone just imagining all the pleasure you were about to experience.

”hurry,” you were breathless, your usually perfect appearance now completely disheveled and shotaro could feel his cock throbbing in the air at the thought of taking you just like this.

he leaned in, trailing soft kisses all over your jaw and neck, “bear with me for a bit.” shotaro groaned against your ear, hand quickly pumping his cock as he breathed in your scent. shotaro loved your scent, a mix of musk and vanilla, getting a whiff of it whenever you passed by him always left him wanting more of you.

you bit your lip, snaking your hands around his shoulders as you felt him shudder. shotaro gripped his shaft tightly, leaning back to push your panties to the side. he panted softly, groaning as he positioned his throbbing cock against your slick entrance. you let out a drawn out moan, face contorting in pleasure as shotaro finally filled you right up. his hips were moving slowly, patiently waiting for your walls to relax around him.

shotaro knew he there was no way he’d disappoint you, having huge faith in his skill in bed, but he couldn’t risk you having a subpar experience with him, not when he wanted this just as badly as you did. with a renewed sense of vigor, shotaro smiled at you, seeing a dangerous glint in his eyes just before he began to pound into you.

”f-fuck! taro!” you yelped, voice cracking as he pounded into you. shotaro’s hips snapped against yours at a perfect rhythm, the way you wanted it and right where you needed him. your head was spinning from the rush of pleasure, moaning mindlessly as you run your nails down his thin dress shirt, sticking to his body and showing his toned figure underneath.

you gripped on his shirt tightly, crying out as your orgasm washed over you in no time. shotaro didn’t stop, moaning blissfully at how tightly you were holding him. ”taro,” he hummed in response, annoyingly sounding more stable even though he was doing all the work.

“taro, more.”

shotaro grinned devilishly, rubbing his lips against your neck. he could feel you trembling in his arms, your walls clenching down on his cock. he knew you just came and yet you were already asking for more. “of course, baby,” he whispered, “don’t wanna disappoint you now.”

you let out a pleased squeal when shotaro grabbed your leg and threw it over his shoulder. he straightened up, licking his lips as he looked over your disheveled state. “so fucking pretty like this. even better than what i imagined,” he whispered, his cock throbbing deep inside you.

”is this better than what you imagined too, baby?” you planned on answering, really. shotaro just happened to slam his cock into you at the right time, sending shivers all throughout your body as he hit your sweet spot. you felt like you were going insane, crying out desperately as he hit that same spot over and over again relentlessly.

shotaro chuckled darkly, still as composed as ever, “i’ll take that as a yes.”

despite his confident front, shotaro was falling apart, eyes darting down at your red lips. he wanted to make a mess out of you, to see just how far you were willing to take this. shotaro was greedy for more, finding your reactions addicting. he leaned in, watching intently as you moaned at the new and deeper angle he was reaching

“y/n, baby, can i kiss you?” you noticed the slight quiver in his voice, feeling as if time had stopped when you met his eyes. you nodded eagerly, pulling him closer before he could even react. shotaro chuckles against your lips, kissing you gently. his hips mirrored the kiss, rolling against yours as he held your waist tightly.

”y/n,” he whispered, cock throbbing deep inside you. your walls were clamping down on him, his hips starting to pick up its pace. “feels so good, baby. so fucking good,” shotaro mumbled, moaning against your neck.

you felt heat pooling in your lower stomach, body tensing up once again. “taro,” you moaned, “cumming— i’m cumming again!”

shotaro hissed, breath hitching in his throat as his hips stuttered against yours. he moaned your name softly, pushing his cum deep inside you. “fuck. fuck, that’s it, baby,” he murmured, panting softly as he helped you reach your orgasm.

”taro!” you cried out, making a huge mess as you came. shotaro let out a small grunt, tired and spent from the intense exchange. he held your body, tenderly caressing your curves. you trembled under his touch, curling up and pulling him close as you ride out your high.

”that wasn’t so bad, huh?”

you closed your eyes, huffing tiredly. “are you kidding me?” you grumbled, “that’s the first thing you say after all that?”

shotaro laughed, staring at you with adoring eyes. he didn’t want this moment to end, his mind wandering as he stared right into your hooded eyes. he smiled softly, “i loved it.” you blinked at him, heart beating faster at the sudden shift in mood.

“you drive me crazy, y/n. you just made me completely yours,” shotaro whispered, chuckling when you began to blush at his words.

”don’t be stupid, this is a one time thing.” shotaro knew you didn’t mean that— even you knew that you didn’t mean it. he smiled at you, nodding mindlessly. you pushed him off of you with a huff, irked by the smug smile he had on his face as he watched you fix your clothes with shaky legs.

”need help?” you rolled your eyes, ignoring him on purpose. “oh, so you got what you wanted and you’re done with me now, is that it?”

shotaro pulled you back in his arms, laying down on the bed as he sighed. ”stay,” he murmured, “or at least wait until my cum isn’t dripping down your legs.”

”just shut up if you don’t want to ruin your chances with me.”

shotaro laughed against your neck but he doesn’t say anything more, humming softly as your bodies relaxed against each other. you almost fell asleep to the sound of his breathing until he spoke, “you mean that?”

you pulled away slightly, staring at him. “are you actually giving me a chance?” his voice was small, filled with nerves and uncertainty.

you let out a soft giggle, “that was the best fuck of my life, of course i’m making the most out of it as long as you don’t fuck up.”

#૮ > ⤙ < ྀིა #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize smut #shotaro imagines #shotaro scenarios #shotaro x reader #shotaro smut #ddollemons #ddlz: osr #✧₊⁺ kinktober24

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hotheadedhero · 7 months ago

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can you do hug headcanons with the rise guys !!

AN: I sure can! These guys deserve all the hugs <3

Hug Headcanons

Rise Turtles x Reader

Raphael

It's no surprise that Raph adores hugs but there's always the worry that he'll somehow injure you in the process. He's a big guy, both in height and width but there are prevalent dangers even if his size wasn't a problem. Excluding his shell, he still has the odd spike poking out of somewhere, whether that be his elbows or the top of his plastron. It's no issue for his brothers seeing as they're turtles too but you're a human. There's too much chance of you catching yourself on one of them and he could never forgive himself if he ever hurt you, even if it was by accident.

You always assure him that no such thing could ever happen and, bit by bit, he allows himself to be bolder with the physical affection. He's glad for it too because holding you is like a dream come to life. If he had to pick a favourite hug, it's when you're curled up on his chest while he lies on his back. Having you this close with his large arms around you is such a pleasure. He takes great joy in knowing he can keep you safe this way. It's also a popular hold when you're both relaxing in the pool, floating around without a care in the world.

Leonardo

He likes to surprise you but not necessarily in the cute couple-y way. Leo makes a point of trying to scare you with his hugs, whether that be leaping out of a random room or embracing you from behind without any warning. He's really putting those sneaky ninja skills to good use, isn't he? You thought that him being an appointed hero of your city meant that he used his powers for good but it would seem you were wrong.

When he isn't trying to give you a heart attack, he's pulling you in with the addition of his phone. He just loves to throw his arms over your shoulders and snap an unexpected selfie. The sentiment appears sweet but you wonder if this is part of his scare tactic, if he's trying to capture a picture of your frightened face in the moment.

However, he does know when to give downtime a chance and frequently enjoys being the small spoon. Anything to feel like the centre of your world. It's also because of the kisses you plant on his shell or the back of his head. He adores those.

Donatello

Trying to get a good hug in with Donnie can be a difficult one. You can only assume that it has something to do with his soft shell. Deep down, you're aware of his vulnerabilities and how they've manifested into this desire to not be touched. Most of his contact will be administered through the use of his tech, whether that be with his bionic arms or the handful of times he's lovingly pat you on the head with his bo staff.

That being said, he does have his moments. Some days are a lot better than others but if you want a hug from him, he needs to be the one to initiate it. The times he does, he'll slowly envelop you from behind and hide his face in the crook of your neck. You suppose this position is part of his need to be in control of the physical affection. He can let go when he wants to and not worry about pushing your arms away if they're around him. You know how hard he tries and it makes those moments that much sweeter.

Michelangelo

Fasten your seatbelts because the hug-a-tron is in the house. He can and will find any excuse to trap you in his arms, sometimes to the point that you're starved of oxygen. Even if the last you saw him was only an hour ago, he'll lift you from the ground in a squeeze upon your return as if you haven't seen each other in months. Saying that you've had to check your ribs for bruising isn't an over-exaggeration. Further stating that you have found bruises is no word of a lie, either.

Mikey isn't sure if he has a number-one hug on his list. They're all amazing in his opinion and he'd feel bad for choosing in case you had a personal preference. In his eyes, it's more about the delivery rather than the sort of affection itself; the energy behind it. That's why it's his absolute favourite when you tackle him to the ground and smother him in that sweet cuddly goodness. He loves to know that you get as excited to see him as he does you.

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the-cannibal · 2 years ago

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Like a curious puppy

Elder male Yautja X Gender Neutral Reader

Before we continue with this one shot I just want to add that I got inspired (and got permission to write this) from a post by @mintymarabell The post was "Imagine whistling next to your mate and he looks over all flabbergasted and wondering how your making those noises" You can find the post right here! Thank you mintymarabell for letting me write this cute idea!

Also @the-princess-has-resurrected has requested to be tagged in this so here you go!

It was a nice warm day for once in the jungle. Not too hot to the point you are sweating and panting like no tomorrow, but also not pouring down rain like the sky is trying to give you (a very cold) shower. You decided to go along with your mate and watch him try his luck with fishing. Besides, there was no way you were gonna pass up on the chance to see him waist deep in the lake, muscles flexing as he tried to catch fish with his spear. You may be a "foolish ooman" as some of the other yautja say, but you weren't that foolish! Laying on your back in the soft grass, you watched as creatures flew above you, and landed in the trees. They sung songs like the little song birds back home on earth. Closing your eyes and puckering your lips, you began to join them in their little song and whistle. The creatures stopped all noises, as if they were shocked to hear an unfamiliar but at the same time familiar sound. They softy sung back to you, seeing if you would continue. And when you did, they happily joined you in the little made up song you all created. Suddenly you felt cooler before. You peaked an eye open to see your mate hovering over you, a curious gleam in his eye as he tilted his head. "Yes my love?" You asked. His mandibles softly clicked as he pointed a finger at your lips. "Hmm? What?" "That noise. What was it?" Your mate asked. "Oh! You mean my whistling?" The big alien nodded and sat down in front of you. Even sitting, his height still towered over you. "Do it again? Please?" Oh how were you going to turn down his request? Especially with that cute face of his! You nodded with a smile and began whistling once again. Your mate practically had stars in his eyes as he listened to you. He took you in his arms as you continued to whistle and sat you down on his lap. It was moments like this that made you remember at times he was like a curious puppy. There was always new ooman things to show him and surprise him with. "It reminds me of the birds back on your planet." He said as you finished singing to him. "That's exactly what I thought!" You grinned up at him. "Do you know how to whistle?" He shook his head and pointed to his mandibles. "I don't think I could with these." You hummed, leaning against his bare chest. "I do suppose they would make it a bit difficult. But hey..." You gently kissed the side of them, making a light blush come to his cheeks. "At least they're cute!" That earned you a trail of happy clicks as he nuzzled his forehead against your, his way of kissing you back.

Now whistling was something your mate asked you to do often. Before you go to bed. When he has had a rough day. While you patch up his injuries. And so so many more times. But... There is a bonus to him liking your little sound so much. Remember how he's like a curious puppy? Well... Now whenever you can't find him you just end up puckering your lips and singing a sweet tune. He comes running towards you each time, asking for more and showering you in compliments and praises. Just like a puppy. If he had a tail you were sure it would be wagging a hundred miles an hour.

#slasher x reader #yautja x reader #predator #predator x human #predator x reader #yaujta #elder yautja #elder yautja x reader

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ambrosialdesire · 2 months ago

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the accursed lycanthrope

18+ DARK CONTENT BELOW, MINORS AND BLANK BLOGS DNI

𓆩♡𓆪 SUNG-JAE YUN ↳ nickname: jae/jay but only by his fans

𓆩♡𓆪 AGE ↳ 24 years old

𓆩♡𓆪 BIRTHDAY ↳ october 29th

𓆩♡𓆪 HEIGHT ↳ 6'2'' (human), 7'2'' (werewolf)

𓆩♡𓆪 SPECIES ↳ human, turned into a werewolf

𓆩♡𓆪 CAREER ↳ solo song artist + actor (more so actor)

𓆩♡𓆪 AREA OF RESIDENCE ↳ lycon condos in lunaris; a high class condominium complex for the rich and famous

𓆩♡𓆪 APPEARANCE ↳ human — a muscular, pale male with unnaturally white hair; ends are usually dyed in different colors + two long strands come down at the side of his face, long at the back — golden yellow eyes that are believed to be contacts, very smug-looking — three scratch scar marks on his left jaw, consistently covered with skin tone bandages or regular bandages — high maintenance: waxes and shaves every part of his body — very smooth and clear skin — right eye hidden with hair, tells press that it's a new style he's trying — left upper canine slightly protrudes out of mouth — small bilateral gauges on earlobes ↳ partial transformation — helixes elongate to a point and more towards the top of his head — teeth and nails begin to grow sharper — sclera starts turning black, irises are even more of a yellow color — body starts contorting unusually, becoming more longer, bigger, and wolf-like — body hair begins to grow back ↳ werewolf — complete transformation of werewolf form — white fluffy fur that is soft to the touch, tail and neck fur are the fluffiest — constantly drooling and snarling — eyes are still decently human-like from the pupils — ears come straight up, like a doberman — hair dye does not stay in this form, thus why he constantly redyes it — sometimes seen stained in blood

𓆩♡𓆪 PERSONALITY ↳ sung-jae is an egotistical and prideful man, he despise criticism and false rumors when it comes to his name. he wants to be worshipped and adored by any means necessary, even if it has to come down to bribes or putting this caring, loving persona for the fans. sung-jae will be loved, he has to be, he must be.

↳ he uses his popularity to get away with many things, having this silver tongue to convince others to believe his lies and coverups. he's quite charismatic and charming when it comes to public speaking and interviews, years of being media trained can do that to a man.

↳ sung-jae is actually really idiotic in a silly way, he thinks whatever he says is right, but if listened to close enough, it's telling that he's extremely wrong about the subject at hand. if anyone calls him out about it, they're getting an earful from him for hours to come.

↳ very flirtatious, kinda comes with the job. anyone can fall under his spell, from his good looks to his smooth words. he's also super pushy because of it, urging to go on constant dates and hang-outs just to be around the one he loves. no one can say no to him, right?

↳ sung-jae is constantly teasing and joking around, to the point where it's difficult to tell whether he's being serious or not. he's also extremely touchy, playing it off as simple brushes or mistaken embrace, but his hands or any part of his body has to be on his love. he attributes this to his newfound werewolf instincts because he never was like that before, he's actually very touch-repulsed due to the fact that he thinks no one deserves it (well maybe only his love does).

↳ in his human form, sung-jae isn't a huge harming threat unless it comes to his fame/public appearance. if it ever comes to that, this man will ensure one's reputation is in complete pieces and never to be able to restored no matter how much they can try. especially if it comes to his love, he'll do it to make sure they aren't able to go outside without fear of being hurt, completely relying on him for everything.

↳ when it comes to his partial/full transformation, sung-jae is ten times more needy and possessive than usual, wanting to mark everything as his, including his love. his feelings towards his love used to be mutual understanding and slight admiration, but his werewolf instincts heightened everything to high levels of obsessive insatiability.

↳ he's mean and stuck-up as hell due to his upbringing, especially to those who refuse to like him. it comes off as passive-aggression, but he's such a high school mean girl when it comes to it; the passing snide comments that would make one doubt their self-image, the physical assault (tripping, shoulder hits) that's brushed off as accidental, the forced social isolation. it literally cannot get into his mind that not everyone is going to like him, so he's giving them a reason why and no one will ever believe them when they say that he's a jerk.

↳ sung-jae actually has very, very poor control over his werewolf form, to the point where he has to self-isolate in his condo until he controls it again. it gets worse in full moons, his thoughts being consumed with things that he'd normally rarely think about and he has to make sure no one in public sees him like this.

↳ he's extremely immature, almost like a bratty kid that's never been told no before and it shows. what sung-jae wants, sung-jae will get. due to this, it makes him rather manipulative into getting his way, his word is basically law, no?

↳ unfortunately, his stubbornness to look and be the greatest had caused him to receive the lycanthrope curse in the first place. it's his biggest scandal and shame, from the look of the beast to the amount of people he had murdered until it was finally under sorta control. if it gets out that he was the one behind those "animal" attacks, there's no telling what sung-jae would do or how he'd react to it.

↳ sung-jae is smug as all hell, making sure there's never a trail left behind him. he's confident no one will find about the murders connecting to him, but this applies to everything else as well. he'll make someone else look like the fool before he ever does.

↳ he's so uptight with ensuring that there's no wolf-like attributes and his hygiene overall that it transfers over to how he treats his loved one. sung-jae has to control everything, down to appearance to even home decor (if no living with him yet), just make sure he doesn't look bad at the end of it. it's all out of love, he promises.

𓆩♡𓆪 ABILITIES ↳ heightened senses — everything is much more sensitive and intense to sung-jae, from noises, smells, tastes, sights. it gives his headaches sometimes from the amount of information flooding into his head. — it's much more worse in his werewolf form because it makes him crave things that aren't usually craved (ex: blood) ↳ healing factor — it's not really a fast one nor slow, but it's very excruciating and tiring to heal wounds and amputations. — this kinda makes him immune to many things: severe disease/illness, physical disabilities (broken legs/arms), bodily harm overall; scars prior to his curse stay to his misfortune. this also makes him somewhat immortal (he doesn't really know that yet). ↳ enhanced reflexes — his heightened senses play a part for this, sometimes it's beneficial and makes him look cooler — sometimes he cannot control his strength because of it, either hurting people or completely knocking the wind out of them ↳ endurance — it takes a lot to get him exhausted now, minus the healing factor — helps with his daily gym routine, probably his favorite trait ↳ night vision — not particularly helpful besides navigating around complete darkness — sometimes forgets to turn on lights when people are around

𓆩♡𓆪 BACKGROUND ↳ it's not unknown that sung-jae yun was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, his mother an all-desired model and his father a well-known actor. from the moment he was born, his life had already been planned out for him, high expectations placed on the baby's small shoulders. every bit of his life was on camera, like a reality show for all to bear witness to, every crucial little moment was there for the people behind the screens. he hated it, he always hated it because it took his parents' attentions away from him, and that's he wanted more out of every materialistic object they gave him. sung-jae wasn't fond of being well-known at first because of this, but then there started this special attention his high school classmates began to give him, the praises of teachers and staff for doing the bare minimum, passing neighbors or strangers greeting him warmly. oh, how he reveled in it. somehow, it felt way better to get this particular recognition from them than his parents, as if they saw him as some higher being. if their attention felt this good, what more if he took in more gigs to get even more of this feeling?

↳ and there he was at just barely 18, accepting various roles because of his parents' status in the industry. sung-jae found himself to be a decent actor and even better singer. acting came naturally, something he always found himself doing at a young age to please his parents. singing even more so, a little habit he had created when he was bored. he was loved, adored, more than what his parents could ever possible give him now. fans would squeal his name in complete joy at the simple image of him, sending him letters upon letters of their devoted affections for him, dedicating every single thought and penny just to win the smallest glance or greeting from him. sung-jae felt like he was on top of the world, an unstoppable force, but he wanted more, so much more. it was then 2 years later at 20, that sung-jae accepted an acting gig for a horror movie where he'd be a stranger appearing in the campsite to help the campers but at the end, he'd be the revealed killer mastermind. stupid, he thought, but accepted it anyways; fans adore masked killers these days right? it was a nighttime recording session in the nearby forest area of his new residential city, wulvesbane grove or something like that, and sung-jae was supposed to appear from within the shadows of the trees. but his cue never came and when he was searched for, he was no longer there.

↳ sung-jae was getting dragged by the back of his shirt collar, feeling branches and rocks dig into his skin as he began to regain consciousness. he started screaming and thrashing, whatever was pulling him stopped pulling and threw him onto nearby tree. he felt dizzy as he made contact with it, numbness wrapping around every part of his limbs, and he could barely spot the snarling creature standing in front of him in his spotted vision. words were forming in its maw, its voice rough and gravely with each broken syllable spoken. "can't... control... y... you... carry... c... curse."

↳ that night was the only time sung-jae had screamed his loudest for something that wasn't for an act. it lunged at him, the sharp sting of fangs deeply sinking into the neck of his flesh. he could feel the intense burn of a substance leaking into every cell of his body, the bite not even any concern at this point. whatever bit down on him finally released him, letting him crumble to the ground in a heap. then he could feel it, his bones cracking and reforming, skin stretching painfully taut and ripping open before healing over again. the process was excruciating and he felt his hand, no, claw dig into the dirt below him. he stared at the pale furred hand, raising to look at the other monster in front of him. he could feel his head agonizingly split in two as he felt senses and insatiable urges flood into it, his body finally getting up and sprinting away to get home. the transformation was complete, sung-jae had become a werewolf.

𓆩♡𓆪 OTHER INFO ↳ although it is very well-known that he has an ego, sung-jae is immensely insecure of not being loved enough. it's why he keeps on taking rather than giving because he believes that he has nothing left to give but himself. it's what people wanted from him for the longest time, so isn't that what his love wants from him too?

↳ sung-jae's voice is medium pitched, almost soft and uplifting whenever he speaks. there's occasionally a teasing tone to it and that's why he's never taken seriously with whatever strange thing he says. in reality, he sounds stern and harsh, unpleasant irritation lining every word as he speaks. he's a real bully about it too, getting off on the teary looks his love gives him with each degrading phrase.

↳ the roles that he usually is scouted for are the heartbreaker sweetheart classmate, the next door neighbor with secret feelings for the mc, the mc's bad boy best friend that's in love with her, and the cute new coworker. the horror movie was supposed to be his big break from those roles.

↳ sung-jae is the only child of his parents since he was a difficult pregnancy and they didn't want to try again for fear of the risks involved.

↳ he's really good at the piano and cello, the two instruments are usually heard in his songs.

↳ sung-jae is completely aware in what he does in his werewolf form, but every single urge he gets in it makes him lose complete control of himself. his kill count is third most out of the TVDM ocs, achelous has the least (surprisingly).

↳ the witch found him eating a person in one of his uncontrolled bouts and offered him to be one of her lackeys to help. he refused due to the fact that it meant that he would have to go into hiding and the fans' admirations of him will be ruined and disappear over time. she instead gave him a spell that prevents him from turning often like achelous, but he's genuinely so bad at using it that he still turns pretty often regardless. she thinks it's quite funny to see him struggle.

↳ he doesn't turn on full moons like a normal werewolf would, but if he does, then that's when the urges get even more crazier.

↳ sung-jae's choice of hair dye just varies on what colors he likes. his stylists are really sick of dying it every week or so.

↳ his original hair and eye color was black, his parents think that he's now in a rebellious streak with the new hair and contacts, but his fans eat it up and that's what matters.

(will continue to update this whenever i get ideas)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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recreationalfanfics · 2 years ago

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Yandere Two-Face x Gn! Reader drabble

Doll is used as a term of endearment but gn bc tbh, that's peak endearment ngl.

Harvey knows its wrong.

Harvey knows it won't end the way he wants it to, he wasn't even sure if he wanted you or if it was the pain of losing Gilda, but he knew it would only end up with you hurt. Maybe even worse. He tries to use the coin to figure out ways to get over you. Heads, he lifts weights at the court yard to try and get his mind off of you. Tails, he tries to strike up a conversation with some of the other loonies. Yeah, it hurt his head to hear them ramble and babble about who knows what, but it hurt even more having to think about you.

You, his favorite psychiatrist. One who would start off each session with a simple coin toss. Heads, you talk to Harvey first. Tails, you talk to Two-Face. He hates all the times you landed on tails, all the times that monster got to speak to you instead of him, all the times that no-good-gangster got to lavish in your attention and he didn't. However, it's what fate chose and he knew all to well that fate had it out for him, because if it wasn't then maybe you two could have met under different circumstances. He liked when you looked at him, he wasn't sure how to explain it, but he knew when you did. The way your eyes would soften along with his tone and mannerisms when he finally got to switch off with that bastard. It made him smile, almost shy perhaps. He missed it, he missed you, but he closed his eyes and groaned as his thoughts once more came back to you. Rubbing his face with his hands, he rolled over onto his back as his brain was at war with itself.

He needed to stop thinking about you. About you in his arms as you stare at him lovingly with those haunting (e/c) eyes, at images of him flipping a coin to decide if he should surprise you with breakfast in bed or by doing all the laundry, or at the idea of you no longer having to work and staying at home for him, your eyes lighting up as he walked through the door and running up to him excitedly with open arms. It won't come true, he knows it, but he wanted it to so badly.

Two-Face doesn't care.

Ever since your transfer to Iron Gate in Central City, he had become more unruly, more prone to violence and roughousing with other inmates and becoming an overall pain in the ass to all the staff. Harvey'll try and rationalize it for him, that you were a psychologist and that he was just another patient to you, but you can't rationalize with someone who isn't concerned reason and logic. Instead, Two-Face was more concerned that something of HIS was walking around the world, unchecked and unsupervised, and ANYONE could try and get their grubby little mitts all over you. The very idea got his fingers curling into a fist and his knuckles aching to be uppercutting some poor unsuspecting victim. He was mad at the other quacks who thought they could reach the same places you reached, he was mad at the prison warden for approving your transfer to Iron Heights, but he was mostly mad at you for going.

While Harvey skulked, Two-Face schemed. All he could think about were plans to escape Arkham, hunt you down, and drag you back to Gotham. Right where you belonged, beside him. At first, he was just becoming more prone to "disruptive outbursts" but all Arkham inmates get rowdy here and then, then he started becoming difficult during therapy sessions. Not that he wasn't in the first place but with you gone, he didn't want to talk to someone who had the audacity to sat where you sat, who tried to flip a coin and pretend to understand him like you did. Not that you were pretending, deep down, you did understand. You understood that deep down, Harvey Dent was still in there...but you also understood that at the end of the day, Two-Face was staying and never talked about him like he was some imaginary figure Harvey made up in his head that will be cured after a few sessions and a little surgery. It's what he liked most about you, you gave him due respect.

At least he thought you did until you left. It doesn't matter, though, because you're coming back home. Walking out of Arkham Asylum during another prison break, his boys were quick to pick up their boss and give him the run down on you, handing him candid photos of your new day-to-day life. You're just the sweetest when you're oblivious to danger, you know that?

"Should we really do this? I could be putting them in more danger, but maybe this also isn't a bad thing...No, it doesn't change the fact it's still wrong!"

"Quit your whining, Harvey. If you're so concerned about what we should do or not, flip for it."

He takes out his infamous coin. Heads; they change their mind and just drive back to base, another day, another crime in Gotham City. Tails; they prepare a pretty little cell for you and get ready for your little return to Gotham. He throws it up in the air, his eyes staring up at it. His eye on the right is pleading and anxious, waiting for the coin to tell him what to do so he could stop feeling so guilty about wanting to have you to himself. The left side was tense but also maliciously giddy as the coin then fell into the palm of his hand. His fingers curled around it like a fist and he's about to open it to reveal the result of their toss...but he never does.

Instead with a deep sigh, he pockets the coin and he gives his boy's orders on how to observe you, on how to get ready for your return.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n), but this is for your own good." Harvey apologizes, standing before your fearful form in your new apartment.

"No it ain't, you just belong to me. Simple as that, doll~" Two-Face boasts, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to his chest.

Harvey knows its wrong, Two-Face doesn't care. Yet, no matter how you flip it, you were doomed either way because that's just what cruel fate had in store for you.

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avocado-writing · 1 year ago

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Kinktober 4

4. Overstimulation, Oviposition/Egglaying, Human Urinal

notes: this was inspired by this incredible fic from @naromoreau, thank you so much for putting naga!crowley into my mind! also this is super monster-fucky. i do not apologise.

afab!reader

biologically this is not at all how snakes work but uhhhhhhh Crowley is a demon so I’m allowed creative license 🤷‍♂️

Crowley’s been irritable.

Snapping, brooding, being generally difficult to be around. You can tell Aziraphale doesn’t love it either, but he’s at least had the commodity of knowing Crowley for longer. In fifty years of happy romance between the three of you this is the first time that your demon has ever gotten on your nerves, and you won’t stand for it.

“Look,” you say through gritted teeth after he’s barked at you for some unrealised slight, “you’re in a mood. But it isn’t my fault, and it isn’t Aziraphale’s, so stop taking it out on us.”

Aziraphale freezes and looks between the two of you. Crowley raises himself up to his full height… and then deflates.

“Sorry,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “You’re right, it isn’t your fault. I’m just…”

He trails off, and you can tell he’s trying to work out if he should admit something. You close the gap and take his hand.

“Crowley, love. If there's something the matter you need to tell me. Tell us. We can help!”

Is he blushing? It’s hard to tell, as he turns his face away.

“Look, I’m just a bit… worked up.”

“Oh! …Oh. Well, there’s no reason we can’t assist with that?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Crowley sighs. You look over to Aziraphale. He clearly has more of an idea of what’s going on, but knows it’s Crowley’s truth to tell. “It’s demon breeding season.”

Your cheeks get hot all of a sudden.

“Oh, I see. I didn’t even realise they had one of those.”

“Well, of course. Otherwise where would new demons come from?” he asks, baffled at your confusion. You suppose you don’t have an answer for that.

“So what do you need to do?”

“Well, usually I’d just slither downstairs and find someone receptive and we’d –”

“No!” you say, suddenly, with such force it makes both of your partners jump. In the future you’ll experiment more with other bodies, engage in orgies so you can watch Aziraphale and Crowley be fucked (and become smug in the way it’s never quite as good as when you do it) but for now the idea of your demon being in bed with anyone but the people in this room shreds your heart. “I mean, look. You don’t need to do that. I’ll help.”

“We’ll help,” Aziraphale says softly. You know this must be quite a gap for him to bridge, having known Crowley when he’s been going through these heats before, but now knowing him as a lover. Crowley looks between the two of you, strangely touched.

“Are you certain? I don’t look… I’m a bit more demonic when I need to mate.”

The idea sends a chill down your spine to straight between your legs.

“That’s fine,” you say, a little too quickly. Despite it all, Crowley grins.

“Alright. Get to the bedroom. I’ll be right with you.”

🐍

You strip down, quickly, excitedly. Secretly you’ve wondered about what Crowley looks like when he’s a proper demon for a while. Hellfire caressing your skin? Horns to grab onto? Your mind is going a mile a minute.

You turn to Aziraphale. He’s removed his cravat and overcoat, and is currently turning up his sleeves to the elbow. You look at him, confused.

“Are you not going to…?” you gesture to your bare body. Aziraphale smiles.

“I think this might be something you want to experience by yourself first, love.”

You open your mouth to ask him what that means, but you’re distracted by the sound of a door creaking.

Crowley slithers in.

No, literally.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. The top half of him is the Crowley you know. Bronzed skin, copper hair down his back, yellow eyes with blown-wide snake pupils.

But that isn’t the only part of him that’s serpentine.

From his hips onwards, he is entirely tail. Black scales rippling as he moves towards you, osteoderms moving with his breath. He looks both entirely like and unlike himself, a strange creation of familiar and not.

He is beautiful.

“Oh,” is all you can manage from where the rest of your body has frozen. You know it was the wrong move, because Crowley looks deflated.

“You don’t like it,” he says with a sigh, and you immediately feel terrible. What he means is ‘you don’t like me.’ You can hear the sadness tinging his voice. So you step forward, hand out, careful.

“No, love, it’s not that at all. Just give me a moment to… adjust.”

You move forward, unsure how to touch him. Aziraphale’s voice whispers from behind you:

“Go on, nightingale. He won’t hurt you.” And then, after a beat, when the angel realises what you’re really worried about, “you won’t hurt him.”

You run your palm along the soft heat of his scales and Crowley sighs, both in relief and in excitement. You take your time, exploring the pattern of him, the curve of his tail. You don’t realise but soon he’s begun to curl around you, wrapping you up gorgeously tight in his coils. Soon your legs are totally engulfed by him.

“Isss thisss alright, nightingale?” he asks, voice low. You try to move and find that you can’t, really, but at the same time you’re fine with it - you know the one holding you is someone you trust with your life.

“Very,” you laugh. You feel someone embrace you from behind and realise Aziraphale has crossed over to you, his chest against your back, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You give yourself over to the strange new feeling of being held like this.

“So now what?” you ask, looking at Crowley’s tail, trying to work out how he mates. It doesn’t take you long to find it: a slit towards where his groin would be, beginning to leak slick down his scales. You run your fingers over it and Crowley gasps, shuddering. “Do you need me to touch you here?”

Crowley shakes his head, breathless with delighted chuckles.

“No. Well, I want you to, but that doesssn’t have to be part of it.”

You decide that you want to as well. You press into him there, his cloaca, and giggle when he leans forward to rest his forehead on your free shoulder.

“Fuck…” he groans.

“If you’re offering,” you say, cheekily. Both your partners huff a laugh, and as you explore deeper into him, you feel something beginning to emerge. You remove your hand to make way, expecting some sort of appendage… and to be fair, it is, but not one you’ve ever seen before.

“What’s that?” you ask, breathless and both bewildered and gleeful.

“That’sss… what I use to lay my eggs.”

A beat passes.

“Hmm.”

“Sssstill game?”

“Crowley, am I going to get pregnant from this?” you ask with very real concern. A hand comes up to caress your face, a thumb swipes across the plush of your lips.

“No, love. I’d need to fertilissse them too, and I won’t do that. I jusssst need sssomewhere to, erm. Push them.”

Well, you’ve come this far. Over the last fifty years the three of you have introduced many things into the bedroom: lace, leather, toys. But as your demonic lover says he wants to lay eggs inside you while your angelic one helps you brace for it, it’s nice to know that there’s still some surprises you can give each other.

You nod, and lay back. Crowley’s eyes go wide.

“You’re sssure?”

“Yes, love. Of course.”

What leaves his cloaca is a tube, for want of a better term. It’s just over a foot long and dripping with slickness. It seems to give him pleasure as it releases, you know what he looks like when he’s about to orgasm, and when it twists its way towards you all you can do is relax into his tail, into Aziraphale’s arms.

The angel threads his fingers through yours and holds you tightly.

“You’ll be fine, darling.”

“You don’t seem very surprised about any of this,” you say, breathlessly. A thought occurs to you. “Hang on, have you done this before?”

Aziraphale goes bright pink.

“Erm…”

“Once,” Crowley hisses, grinning - have his teeth gotten sharper? No, he’s just grown fangs - “yearsssss ago. Before either of ussss met you.”

“I was a friend helping another friend,” Aziraphale says quickly, a line he’s clearly been using to justify his lust for years. You can’t help but laugh at your utterly daft and obtuse lovers, and that’s good – it loosens you up and allows Crowley to slip inside your cunt.

You’re already quite wet from the new, explorative play that’s come so far, but the tube is slick and searching. It surges up inside you, far inside you, further than either of their cocks have ever hit, but it doesn’t hurt. Something about what it’s secreting is relaxing your inner muscles and allowing it access into your core. You gasp as you feel Crowley root himself there, and the demon moans.

“Fuck. You’re…”

You’re too overstimulated to reply, so just nod. Yes. He is, too. Across the width of your shoulders you see Aziraphale kiss Crowley, soft and long.

“You are so lovely like this, Crowley.”

“Gorgeous,” you manage, honestly, and Crowley looks like the praise might make him burst. Settling back into the moment he locks his eyes on yours, serious, sincere.

“”I’m going to ssstart now. It might feel a bit sssstrange, but I promisssse it will be good.”

“It is,” Aziraphale agrees, shyly. You smile, and nod. You trust them.

Crowley closes his eyes and you see him squeeze. Something travels through his tube, passing through him and up inside you. The strange spherical nature of the object has you gasping, firstly in surprise and then in pleasure. The press of it is strange and illicit and when it pops inside of you, you try to roil; you can’t though. Crowley has you too tightly.

“That’sss the firsssst one.”

“Oh my god,” you moan.

“Are you alright?”

“Keep going,” you command, your voice no-nonsense. And Crowley does. Another egg passes from inside him to inside you, pressing through your cervix with no issue to deposit safely. After four of them you’re beginning to feel a bit full. By seven, you can feel the eggs jostling around inside of you, an unusual and filthy intimate slide. Your silky insides are making them the perfect home.

“How… how many are there?” you breathe. Crowley’s face is drenched with sweat, his eyes rolling back in his head. From his cloaca a fresh stream of cum drips onto the tops of your thighs.

“Usually ten or twelve.”

“Twelve?!” you gasp, not sure how you’ll fit those, but willing to try. On cue, another egg presses your vulva apart and nestles in deep.

You’re showing them now, stomach starting to stretch. It doesn’t hurt though. It feels wonderful. You’ve never been so full before, your body warm and deliciously thrumming. You look over your shoulder to where Aziraphale is holding you, in some strange approximation of a husband helping a wife give birth. His eyes are firmly fixed on your abdomen, lips slightly apart, cheeks bright red.

“Aziraphale?”

“Sorry, darling. You just look…” he trails off, instead choosing to rest his hand on your stomach. You moan as he bumps the eggs inside you, and for a moment you’re swept up in it, and think it wouldn’t be so bad to have Crowley make them viable, maybe you’d quite like carrying his clutch, so long as the two of them looked after you like this.

The last two eggs come at once, one right after the other, filling you to the brim. You can feel them taking up the tunnel to your core, hardly fitting in properly. You whine and try to find a way to feel comfortable, but you’re so full, so needy, and they’re pushing against that sweet spot inside you, and –

You come unexpectedly, an orgasm wracking your body wildly. It takes over your every sense with a crashing wave, your cunt tightening and spasming as Crowley finally withdraws. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life and it’s wonderful.

“How long… How long do they stay?” you manage when your heart is finally at a normal pace again.

“A couple of hoursss, until they realissse they’re not going to grow. Then they’ll disssssolve.”

“Dissolve?!”

“It won’t hurt, my love,” Aziraphale assures you, hand still protectively on your bump. “In fact it’s somewhat of an aphrodisiac.”

You moan and collapse into them. You’re not sure how you’re going to survive this.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler @darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #Fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #avo's kt 23

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dancingbabya-notes · 2 years ago

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Your scars are beautiful

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

Everyone gains scars; it's a part of life, no one is immune to that. From small ones that are barely noticeable to ones that signify or are a reminder of a very strong memory. A badge of honor, a reminder of a mistake, luck that no one else was harmed, or a bad memory. (PS the only reason I wrote this is because the most recent chapters I've read are rotting my brain and I sometimes think a little too hard about my own scars)

Characters: Todoroki, Mirio, Midoriya, Amajiki, Bakugo, Kirishima, Kaminari, Shinso, Shoji

Spoiler warning: there are spoilers for the bnha/MHA manga in Shoji’s part so if you don’t want that please don’t bother reading.

Tw: trauma, mention of falling from extreme heights, mentions of child abuse, mentions of abuse, mention of self harm,

<-•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•->

Todoroki

Sometimes you would walk into your shared room with Shoto, he looks at his face so intently in the mirror. But trying to imagine him without the burn scar on his face was difficult. That was your only image of him since school. Today he seemed to be intently picking at the skin around the old scar.

Walking up behind him you put his hands down so they sat in his lap as you hug him tightly. “Sho, Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He states, his low voice not expressing much emotion but for some reason you just knew.

“Do you wanna touch my scar?” You ask, he blinked.

You were very protective of your own scars, it wasn’t because it was an old scar. It wasn’t because of anything sad, it was because you went too far. Like Icarus you flew too close to the sun and lost your wings. When it happened you remember him reaching for you and the pain in his eyes.

“Are you sure, my love?” He looks at you in the mirror.

“Of course, you always tell me you find comfort when I touch your scar,” you smile.

“No,” he shakes his head, his hand sitting comfortably in yours. “Just sitting with me right now is fine.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“It’s an old story.”

“That doesn’t mean it can stir new feelings,” you offer, giving him a slight squeeze.

Shoto thinks for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times as time seemed to stretch before he found the right words. “I know now…why my mother felt the way she did. But I can’t… help but feel I had been too hasty in forgiving her. Or… that I’m wrong for not forgiving… my father.”

You try to think of a good thing to say but you weren’t sure if your words would bring him solace or pester the pain more. “I think you need to talk to them again. While it may open old bleeding wounds I feel telling them how you’re feeling might help. If you want I can sit with you when you do?”

“No, I feel it will only cause me unnecessary pain,” he sighs.

“But emotional pain can come up later,” you mumble then to realize. “Sho, are you worried that we will be bad parents to our children?”

“Yes,” he pulls on your hand a bit, stretching it a bit beyond to position that was slowly making pins and needles prick at your skin.

“No one’s perfect, but all we can do is try our best and make up for the mistakes we make. If you want when we start a family we can go to counseling,” you suggest. “That way we can get a second option, you might also get some closure with the pain you feel regarding your parents.”

Shoto pulls you around to face him, kind of sitting his lap but with his arms around you instead of you’re around him. You smile as he buries his face into your hoodie.

“You always seem to know what to say my love.”

Kirishima

“Babe?”

Flinching you quickly roll your pant leg back down. It was moments like these where you wish the mirror didn’t make you feel so small.

“There you are,” Eijiro smiles as he pulls you into a hug. “I thought you were asleep or something.”

“I was just antsy,” you mumble. “Sorry I should have said I was in here.”

He looks at you and he can tell. “Your scars are making you anxious, aren’t they?”

You nod.

He starts peppering your face in kisses. “It’s not your fault, it wasn’t something we could help. Nurse didn’t know.”

Nurse. Without her you didn’t want to know what would have happened to you. Your hero career would have ended that day. Even the short month to recuperate wasn’t enough time, you still had nightmares, waking up screaming, and the phantom pains. The reminder was the scars. Why couldn’t you move past this?

“I know.”

Eijiro picks you up and sits on the bed with you in his arms. He kissed your face, but you could tell where he was kissing. He had a purpose. Your body was littered with scars, the proof of your life and the things you’ve dealt with. The thin one just above your eye was from when your brother spent a day drawing portals through the house and you had fallen through one out into the tree. The smooth one by your ear from a surgery that had been found to be unnecessary: the hospital had mixed up your chart with another child patient, your mom was not enthused.

The one under your eye from when you accidentally cut your face, having thought you put the exact blade down, you were lucky you didn’t get your eye. He brings your hands up and he kisses your fingers, the paper thin cuts you’d gotten from learning how to cook and other craft related accidents. A small giggle escapes as he looks you in the eye for a moment.

“You don’t have to do this,” you smile.

“But I want to.”

With each kiss you were reminded of the origin of the scar. Your left hand: a wet rock from the river by the summer house. Your right wrist: the bracelet you wore during a spontaneous rescue during second year. Your shoulders: the burns from an old mission. Your stomach: an inconsolable attacker. Every memory was fine until he kissed your legs. The perfect lined scars that cut straight accords your knees.

Your breath shook a bit as the tears started. You were so scared. Plenty of other times you’d been scared but when you couldn’t feel your feet or toes, or even just the pain, were the most terrifying two minutes of your life.

His hands touched the scar and you flinched. “I know that I’m lucky. So many people pity me now.”

“Who cares what they feel about your scars,” your boyfriend pulls you back into his lap, peppering the top of your head and your forehead with kisses. “What matters is you are here, you are safe, and the pain you feel will disappear. It will fade into a bad memory.”

“I know. But what if-

“Y/n, if anything had happened we would have figured it out. Okay?”

You nod. “Thank you Eiji.”

Midoriya

When you see Midoriya’s scars, the ones on his hands, his arms, anywhere you wonder, would it have been better if you realized and accepted your second quirk sooner. You had grown used to using the regenerative ability given to you by the monster that forced your creation. Body torn to shreds over and over again, everyone always talked about how lucky you were. But were you?

You could lose a finger and if you consume enough toxins you could grow it back without worry. Your body showed no signs of scarring, well not visible at first glance. You had one scar. It was small and you just knew it was a part of you now.

“Cookie? Is there something on me? Don’t tell me there’s another water-

“No, you’re fine.” You shake your head and you smile looking at your boyfriend. “Have I ever mentioned that you’re beautiful?”

Midoriya didn’t seem to know what to say, his jaw hung open as he quickly covered his mouth and turned away. You chuckle slowly breaking into a laugh as he blushes so hard you could see it on his back from his shoulders.

“Cookie,” he whines and you slowly try to catch your breath.

Standing up you smile before taking his hand and kissing the first scar you’d ever seen on him. “It’s true. I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

You weren’t sure what it was but he pulled you close to him before kissing the top of your left ear. Which made you embarrassed, the only imperfection you had. A slight notch in the top of your ear. Like someone had cut a slice of it out. At the time you must have been no older than three or four, the faint memory of pain and then it ending.

“I think you are far more beautiful than I am,” he smiles before you push him away.

“Put on a fucking shirt,” you scold.

Mirio

“Sunshine, are you okay you’re shaking?”

Putting the pot down you think. “I’m fine though. Huh?”

Turning your. Hands over and over you did notice a slight shake, but that was normal right? Frowning it was odd when old memories would be triggered.

“Ah, I know what’s wrong.” You chuckle nervously. “I remembered when my mom had a hard time moving the pot to the table because she didn’t want us to burn our hands on the plates.”

Mirio was a bit confused. “Why did you think about that?”

You flex your wings and shift the feathers to the side a bit to show the one spot where only short feathers grew, it didn’t impair your flying and you were surprised you could even fly at this age. “She dropped the pot, my dad was so angry he hit her and got me in the crossfire.”

Though you had a light hearted smile on your face Mirio frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that Sunshine.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “If I hadn’t witnessed that I’m sure you and I would have never met. Don’t apologize, it made me think that I hope my mom is in a better place, and I will be very very careful who I marry if I ever do.”

Mirio had thought much about how you’d grown up, it was partially because you never talked about it. He didn’t want to pry usually but he did want to know as much as you were comfortable sharing.

“How do you feel about scars anyway?” You ask.

“They’re proof we live,” he smiles before brushing his hand against your feathers.

You shriek, pulling away quickly and stumbling forward. Groaning you clutch your side, having effectively slammed your entire weight into the corner of the counter.

“A warning,” you gasp. “Please, my feathers are sensitive.”

“R-right.”

Shaking your head you start laughing only to be paused from the pain shooting up your body.

Amajiki

Your partner watches intently as you work. He always did this, because he said it made him feel better. Watching you work when he had nothing to do. Somewhere along the way of learning you had been given the task to create new things for uniform fabrics. He remembered how when you both met and you made him something only for him to learn how your quirk actually worked.

Your blood infused with fabrics could change them drastically. A fabric that couldn’t be cut with most known blades unless you bled on it. A super stretchy fabric that didn’t wear easily if at all, water resistant fabric, changing a fabric to be flame retardant. Your quirk was virtually limitless if you had drawn enough blood.

“Tamaki? You’re staring pretty hard right now, did I mess up the pattern somewhere?” You pause a bit confused as you look over the piece.

Chuckling a big he shakes his head. “I just thought you looked beautiful.”

Okay now you messed up, quickly switching off the machine you felt yourself gradually melt to the floor. “What did I do to deserve someone as kind as you?”

“N-no I’m the lucky one,” he argues.

“I’m not beautiful and you know that, all these scars from trying to figure out how to use my quirk.” You laugh jokingly.

But Tamaki grabs your hands tightly. “You are beautiful, scars and all.”

You couldn’t help but smile, it was a stupid smile that one only makes when they’re drunk on love. “You’re beautiful too Tamaki. As beautiful as the moon.”

His face quickly reddens, but he did have enough sense to pick you up off the floor. Your work space was a workplace hazard in more ways than one.

“Don’t ever say your scars aren’t beautiful, without your abilities some many more people would be in danger,” he huffs, his ears burning from his embarrassment from your earlier comment.

“Mm, I’ll try.”

Bakugo

Katsuki hardly cared about his scars. He took care of his body and as long as he could do his job as a hero who cared what he looked like. But usually he’d skim over his scars when getting changed and a recent exchange made him angry seeing his scars.

You were working like usual, heroes were still plentiful but the job was safe. Your hero costume featured a mask to shield your face from others. Only he and a few trusted people ever saw your face without the mask. So during the recent publicity event when someone chastised and scolded you for your scar Katsuki had to be held back.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” you had said, but you still cried yourself to sleep in his arms.

It was a scar that left you permanently inhibited, taking one eye with it. After all the healing you’d gone through and everything one person’s comment could still bring you down.

“Tsuki? Are you okay?” You ask, crossing your arms.

He scoffs. “I’m fine.”

“Tomorrow is the gala right?”

“Mm.”

“Would you be mad if I said I’d rather stay home?”

Why? He didn’t want to go, you didn’t, might as well.

“Then we don’t have to go.” He shakes the wrinkles out of his shirt before folding it.

You pause. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

“I never said you did, are you sure we can just-

Katsuki stops folding the clothes and faces you. “I’m tired, so are you. Plus, you need a break from your mask. Whose fucking idea was it for it to be so tight to your face? Can’t even fucking breathe properly in that damn thing.”

You blink. “Wait, do you think I’m upset about what that person said?”

He narrows his eyes.

“Katsuki, seriously? I’ve had this scar since I was like five. Sure as shit ain’t pretty, but someone who doesn’t matter to me isn’t gonna make me upset.” You laugh. “If this hadn’t happened to me I would have never learned how to feel around for water and sense things with it.”

He smirks, pulling you into a hug. “Damn right. But we’re still not going to the gala.”

“Don’t wanna wear a tie?”

He didn’t answer you.

Kaminari

When you got married to Denki the first thing he did was make you cry. Because for some reason that was shut what he did. At your wedding in front of all your friends. Were you drunk? No. Had it been a long day? Yes. But somehow it was even more memorable.

Instead of a traditional or western “wedding” you both decided a small get together for family and friends would be so much better, on the condition your parents even showed up. As you looked at the scar that you both shared across your arms you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What are you looking at bumblebee?” He asked and his voice seemed to fall. “Oh.”

For Kaminari it held a different meaning. You were always so careful, it came with the territory of being a support item creator especially with a quirk like yours. Telekinesis could be powerful and used in many different ways but you used it both as a crutch and a tool to protect yourself. So when he saw that his mistake blemished your skin he thought “I just vowed to protect her and got her hurt.”

“I feel like it’s beautiful. Luckily Yoko could heal it up,” you smile brushing your fingers on your own scar.

“I’m sorry.”

You frown. “I like this scar. It’s not the first one I’ve ever gotten but it’s ours.”

“I didn’t know that knives could split like that if the wrong pressure is placed on it.” He mumbles.

“It’ll be a good teaching moment for when this one gets older.” You coo brushing the hair from the child’s eye. “I’m sure Teru will think it’s funny how his parents share a scar. Though I think the story of how we met will top that.”

“I guess you’re right. But I’m still sorry,” Kaminari pouts.

“You have more than made up for it, my overpowered pikachu.” You grab him by the face and squeeze it a bit before kissing him.

“Do you think Teru will get scars?”

“As he gets older yeah,” you nod, looking at the baby again.

“You’re happy with me right y/n?” Denki squeezes your scarred hand with his own.

“Of course I am. Accidental exploding knife and all. I think that made our wedding more memorable for me,” you chuckle. “I feel like it was my fault.”

“No, you can’t do anything wrong.”

Shinso

You smile as you finish giving the kitten a bath. Fostering the stray cats so they could be taken care of or at least fixed was probably one of the few things you were glad your house could accommodate. Which made you think about the first time things like this happened. Trying to help a stray dog which resulted in a nasty bite as a child. But regardless you got the dog to safety. Your mom wasn’t all that happy about the bite.

“Hey puddin,” you smile as the older cat rubs against your face. “You know where to leave your gifts. Hitoshi will be coming over tonight.”

You giggle thinking about the first time you met him. Helping out at your parents' rescue center Shinso Hitoshi came in with his arms and face bleeding as the cat tried to free itself of his hold. You damn near panicked because of it. Even laughing with him as you patched him up.

“Look we match.” He joked showing his own bite mark wound.

As he walked in you held the now dry kitten, purring snatched the kitten from you and started taking care of it herself.

“Okay mama, looks like my job is done.” You roll your eyes about to wash your hands.

“Was there any trouble?” Hitoshi asks puttting the groceries down.

“No, I just thought about how I met you.” You hum.

Hitoshi thinks for a moment and nods. “Oh, well I’m glad we match. Doing stuff like this would be hard otherwise.”

You look at the scars you both bear, if not for these you might never have met your best friend.

Shoji

When you met Shoji you had never expected it to be through your quirk. The ability to walk through people’s dreams and exist in that separate space. He’s much taller than you so even if your eyes weren’t glued to the floor you wouldn’t have usually made eye contact with him. Once you spent more time with him you had wondered about the mask why he wore it, but in fear of prying you kept your questions to yourself.

You’d always lived in the city you read about the way heteromorphs were treated in rural areas so seeing it first hand through a nightmare of his. Made you hurt. People who thought they were better than others hurt innocent people, it made you angry. But as he lays in your lap sleeping after a long day of hero work you keep your tears at bay.

“Why is this coming to mind now?” You mumble.

Shoji stirs in his sleep, and you bring your hand to his hair, rubbing his head much like how he did for you when you apologized for your inability to control your own quirk. His scars weren’t what made him, and you were glad at least he could come to terms with it. But the people who cared for him— like you. Will probably always feel pain. Leaning down, you kiss him and he chuckles.

“Are you crying again?”

You sniffle trying to make your voice normal. “No.”

“It’s in the past, things are slow to go but there’s been change since we were in school.” Shoji yawns a bit before sitting up. “Aside from thinking about the past, what are you thinking?”

“How beautiful you are,” you hum, stretching up a bit you cradle his face in your free hand. “Because it takes a lot to be this beautiful.”

He kisses the inside of your hand. “Only you say things like this.”

“And you know that I mean them. Just hold me back after counting to three if anyone dares say anything.” You clock your tongue.

“Hmm, I’ll give you five seconds.”

“Truly kind indeed to couple with your beauty,” you giggle, bowing your head a bit. “I am not worthy.”

But he didn’t laugh this time, instead he pulled you into his lap and just held you there. He does take your cup away from you.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be drinking coffee after five, stardust?” He frowns at the liquid and you avert your gaze.

“It’s decaf.” You lie.

He smells the cup and puts it on the coffee table before locking you in his hold. “I believe that’s enough ‘not coffee’ for one evening.”

Leaning back on his chest and looking up at him you still smile. “While your scars come from a bad memory I hope since they’ve healed you have a million more to make the bad seem insignificant. Plus I meant it when I said you’re beautiful.”

It was his turn to hold your face in one of his hands. “I know stardust. I know.”

758 notes · View notes

zin-fan-del · 3 months ago

Text

Holdin' Out for a Hero

~5.000 word story featuring gay lizards and blueberry inflation. Also available for reading here on my main website!

"I've been holding out on this until I found someone like you." Windsor's words filled the quiet, dimly-rit room so suddenly it made the scales on Mehji's back momentarily crawl. Beneath the idyll autumn sceneries at the ranch house, he had been led to a room packed with machinery and chemical equipment. The crisp air and warm-hued leaves gave way to a well-camouflaged den of metallic greens and blues.

"Don't say cryptic things," the perturbed lizard just over half his height rebuked, keeping up pace behind his tour guide. His hands dug deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, despite the warmth radiating from the machines all over. As they walked, Mehji snuck several glances away from the curiosities all around to try and read Windsor's face. All he could make out was a confident, smug grin.

"So," the pale dragon's march stopped as the two approached an unusual display glowing with minty green light, "this is my magnum opus." He turned on a heel to face his guest, wearing the same baffling smirk… Next to this stellar contraption, though, a sparkle danced in his eyes.

Mehji's gaze broke with Windsor as he sized up the machine. Inside, like a sample floating in an enormous test tube, a full-body jumpsuit, boots, gloves and a mask were suspended. Looking at it, even up close, it was difficult to tell whether they were actually submerged in liquid or resin. The glass container appeared ethereal, draped in fluorescent viridian shining from lamps below. The tube was embedded in a steel base platform decorated by flickering control panel buttons.

The torso of the bodysuit was decorated with interweaving stripes that diverge and trace the outer arms and legs. A slim black belt featuring an elliptical metal buckle outlined in studs divided it in half vertically. The gloves and boots had cuffs shaped into wide spikes splayed outward. The lurid crimson fabric patterned with bold gray details appeared well-made, albeit strangely large and baggy.

"Is… is this your Halloween costume?" Mehji surmised, scratching the back of his head and forcing a smile. "It's, uh, cool. Which superhero was this again?"

Reacting to the lukewarm response, Windsor's face dropped into a disappointed frown. Unsure what he could have said wrong, Mehji chuckled nervously.

"This is not some measly costume. This… is Wrath." As the white dragon spoke of his creation, he turned to cast a prideful gaze thereupon, a smile creeping back onto his face.

"Isn't that one of those cardinal sins, mister…?" Mehji prodded jokingly. But Windsor simply sighed and faced him, speaking up with a serious tone.

"Mehji, do you remember the day we met?" Windsor's serious, seemingly off-the-cuff question was startling, though easily answered.

"Of course, though I barely believe it. We rolled people the size of zeppelins out of a restaurant…" Giving a brief nod, Windsor carried on.

"Aster City has been ravaged by that same incident happening again and again. People all over the place, in small groups, uncontrollably blowing up. It's a rapid growth that turns your body blue and fills you with juice." As he recounted the events of the past weeks, Windsor's eyes closed tight and he tapped between his brows with an index finger.

"The… the blueberries…" Mehji pulled a hand out of his pocket to insinctively carress his stomach, casting his mind back to the situation in question. His face must have contorted slightly as he spoke, because the taller reptilian's smug grin returned. A nervous feeling raging through Mehji spawned beads of sweat on his forehead.

"You were of great help that day. In fact, I don't think I've seen anyone else quite so excited to do heavy lifting." A gentle blush rose to Mehji's cheeks and his eyes forced themselves away.

"I- I just like being a helpful lil' guy, is all," the embarrassed green lizard attempted to clarify. "Was just following your instructions, really…"

"Then you won't mind putting this suit on for me." With a fluid motion, Windsor reached out and pressed a large eject button on the container's control panel. Immediately, the tube's glass walls slid down to the base, flooding the room in glowing seafoam hues. The garments gently fluttered down to the platformbeneath them, landing at Windsor's waist height.

"Right now? You want a superhero strip show?" Mehji jabbed into Windsor's side playfully with an elbow. "Ya gooner."

"W-what?!" Now, it was the alabaster reptile's turn to blush, which he poorly hid by turning his chin up and away. "To make fast-changing possible, it's designed to fit around any kind of dresswear. You don't even need to take your shoes… off…"

His spiel was abruptly interrupted upon reopening his eyes. Mehji's lower half was already stripped down to just boxers, and his arms were raised over his head to remove the white wifebeater formerly obscured by a large jersey. As he casually tossed the shirt into a pile of his other discarded clothes, their eyes locked. This time, it was Mehji's turn to meet a stunned, flushed face with a cocky smirk.

"What? Are you gay?" He teased, flexing his right bicep playfully. Windsor's jaw dropped but his brain had yet to catch upto speed.

"Well, but… It's not like… Y-you just don't have to, um, undress if you don't want to," the words raced each other out of his gaping maw, but Windsor's composure wasn't regained whatsoever.

"Enough yapping, you dork. You wanna see these guns in a tight suit?" Windsor's diamond eyes shot back and forth from the nearly-nude hunk actively teasing him, unable to conjure up words. "I wanna see more of that look on your face."

As he spoke, Mehji took hold of the suit and unfolded it before him. It unfurled all the way out onto the floor, despite being suspended in his hands over his head. Expeditiously, he unzipped the flashy suit from the top down to the tail-hole, and stepped inside with one leg.

"It's huge," he noted aloud while dressing himself. "You couldn't have secretly taken my measurements better?"

"… You'll see how it works," Windsor retorted, cheeks still rosy. Mehji raised a brow, uncertain what that could mean, but continued, trusting the dragon's guidance to be benign. As he slid his arms down the sleeves of the costume, he turned around.

"Help me out," Mehji instructed, gesturing with one hand at the zipper running down his back. Windsor stepped forward and, with a single decisive tug, closed it all the way up to his neck.

"Excellent. A perfect fit!" Windsor exclaimed with glee as Mehji slowly turned around. The suit was, contrarily, extremely loose and tall, despite being sealed quite firmly around his wrists, ankles, the base of his tail and the top of his neck. As he slid on the boots and gloves, Mehji felt the accessories snap into place like magnets. Despite the unflattering fit, there was a remarkable degree of care put into every piece.

"So, this is what you're into…?" Mehji probed, his tone landing between serious and jokingly pejorative. Most of the fabric was exaggeratedly draped around him like a blanket. He waved his arms slightly up and down, expectedly uncomfortable. "I think some, uh, adjustments might be necessary." From behind, Windsor raised the bandana-like mask up to the smaller reptile's eyes, fastening it into a secure knot below the spikes on his head. Despite their stark-white eyecaps, the mask conferred surprisingly unimpeded visibility.

"Quiet, now… Just follow my lead. You know which arm is your right one?"

"I'm not completely helpless, mister." Mehji smirked, and gestured with the according arm.

"Good. Snap your fingers with that hand."

"Like this?"

Upon triggering the click between his index finger and thumb, a small but distinct beep from the suit's chest area rang out. Before he could react, with the light sound of a vaccuum sealer, the entire garment restricted against his body.

"Guh--" Mehji gasped, puffing out his chest as he felt the soft fabric grow quickly tense. A sense of surprise stunned his jaw open as he held out both arms, contorting around to survey his body with wide eyes. "Holy… That scared me shitless." But as he continued to twist around, the initial shock gradually settling, an emphatic grin spread onto his face. "Hah… haha! Wow. How the fuck did you pull this off?"

The garment was fitted, in the blink of an eye, to perfection. Every curve of his body appeared sculpted beneath the unbelievably smooth fabric. With awe illuminating his visage, the green lizard was stunned into staring at himself in the reflection of a tall machine. This comfort level in such a tight garment was unthinkable to him. It would take hours of meticulous stitching to achieve anything similar.

"You look incredible." Windsor spoke up after letting his newly-dressed partner look himself over. He walked up behind the distracted man and planted both hands on his shoulders. Mehji, who had been on-edge just moments before, didn't react at all. "What you're looking at… What you're wearing… is how I'll fix the blueberries. This is Wrath."

"Your answer is to become a superhero?" Mehji curied, still transfixed on his own reflection. "I thought they caught the guy behind the breakouts already."

"Not quite." Windsor's hands began to explore his guest's figure. "I'm no hero. All I have is this flashy suit…" His palms follow the lines down Mehji's arms before gripping the sides of his chest and sliding down to his waist. "The blueberries just keep popping up, no matter how many culprits get arrested." His words kept Mehji from melting into the gentle massage. "You might now know, but some even remain afflicted long-term, expanding repeatedly…"

Mehji's body, mostly cool beneath the breathable bodysuit, couldn't resist warming up with big hands prodding at it. With an audible gulp, he stared into Windsor's calm eyes and spoke, "I thought permaberries were mythical."

"On the contrary, there are many. And twenty-ton life isn't easy in the city. You just don't fit in anywhere." Winsdor lifted his hands away from Mehji's hips and turned on a heel to take a few steps away. Windsor grew unxpectedly quiet as his brow shaded his downturned eyes. An indiscernable but painful emotion rose with him, expressed clearly through his self-assured facade.

"What're you going to do then? Find out whodunnit? Or run around, juicing everyone in your path?" Mehji brainstormed lightheartedly but his lanky suitor's demeanor refused to lighten.

"Nah." Click. Turning to face Windsor, Mehji heard the distinctive click priming the raygun pointed in his face, which began glowing with electric vigor. "I'm gonna make the problem so bad someone else solves it." Shivers rocketed up Mehji's spine and a sweat drop fell from his chin. "How about it? Just one beam and you'll get your dream body. It's like magic." Windsor responded, staring down his quaking partner deviously.

"W… wait…" the man sizing up a gun pointed his way sputtered. "What…? Dream body? It'll make me ripped if I want?" Mehji couldn't contain his questions, startled by the sudden attack. In his racing mind, the short lizard pictured himself bulging with muscles in the stunning red suit.

"Only if you truly dream of that." Windsor assured as the gun's charging light grew ever vibrant. Mehji groaned quietly, uncertain. Never in his dreams had he imagined himself so rich in brawn. But if this was a chance to quickly grow, he'd kick himself for declining.

So, with a face stiff as steel, he consented concisely.

"Hit me."

A bright ray blinded him as it collided with his midsection, disspating into him as a warm light. Windsor blew on the red-hot tip of the raygun forcefully, breaking up a steam cloud pouring off of it. As his eyes reopened, Mehji looked down to survey his body again, but nothing had visibly changed about it. He patted himself down with gloved hands, unable to sense any dramatic alterations to his figure as Windsor placed the raygun on a nearby counter.

"It didn't work…?" Mehji pumped an arm in the air, flexing it as dramatically as possible. "I haven't gained a pound."

Windsor laughed snidely. "It takes a while so you can really savor the change," He watched the suited-up lizard hastily squeeze at his own muscles, testing for any identifiable growth. "But it looks like it's working just fine to me."

Several questions rose to mind but were beaten to Mehji's lips by a loud belch. He raised a fist to cover it as best as possible, embarrassed. With his other hand, he rubbed at his belly just above his belt. Paying close attention, he could sense bubbles rising in his stomach before they rose sharply in volume. But still, his midsection was no flatter than normal. His brows furrowed in confusion.

"Surely this isn't a gun that just makes you gassy, mister?" Mehji joked. But as he pulled away the hand covering his mouth, he noticed a strange effect creeping its way down his arm. "Wait, huh…?" A deep cornflower color had sneakily appeared around his upper torso. On closer inspection, however, the splotchy effect was spreading like airbrushed paint toward his wrists. He leaned over, watching it race down his front, traveling past his groin and knees down his legs.

As the realization sank in, his breath paused momentarily, then picked back up into a rapid rhythm. As he turned his head back up, the sight of Windsor's euphoric grin made butterflies go wild in his stomach. Blood rushed to his face with such speed enough to nearly knock Mehji out. Embarassed to beet-red, he span around to the mirrored surface from just moments ago…

But the face that greeted him was a deep, rich indigo. In fact, in just seconds, blue hues swallowed his entire body, as though he was dipped in a vat of dye.

"I think I know where this is going," Windsor ominously murmured through a giddy sneer. Mehji's panicked eyes shot back up as his arms dropped to his side. "And that means I chose correctly with you," the taller lizard's tail grew erect as he watched on, struggling to contain elated laughter.

"No way," Inside his mind, Mehji was torn between fear and excitement. But his stomach was churning like an ice-cream machine, kicking up a racket even as he doubled over, pressing into it with both hands. "In my dreams, it doesn't… start this fast…" He was overcome with the sensation of having ravenously eaten past his limit. Through the thin fabric of his suit, he could feel his belly protruding scantly. Between the clamoring of his strained stomach and the soft gut where defined abs just were, the grumbling lizard began bloating up like he went overboard on soda.

The tall dragon released a deep belly-laugh he had kept bottled in for a while. Across the cool tiles he strode, placing a pair of fingers beneath Mehji's chin and lifting it to meet his gaze directly. He spoke warmly as he stroked it gently, ogling his helpless victim's face cloaked in the vivid hues of spirulina. "I'll keep you safe. I promise." Mehji swallowed dramatically as the gurgling from his gut continued, embarrassed to have his upset stomach heard by Windsor. But the white dragon stood close in front of him, their bodies separated by less than an inch. "Just enjoy the ride."

"Urk-!" Mehji, captured in the moment, momentarily forgot what situation he was in. He looked down in disbelief, his jaw slightly unhinged. "It's… really happening!" The juice filling him up spilled over. His belly, once meticulously slim, puffed up into a growing mass approaching the size of a basketball. In and out, the short lizard panted, trying to rationalize his situation. With a single curious hand, he pressed into the dramatically swelling paunch, leaving behind a dark handprint-shaped stain. He moaned as his gut kept duly stretching outward, pursing out over the tight belt cradling it from below.

Windsor pressed his waist into the ballooning lizard's girth, wrapping an explorative arm around his waist. "How's it feel…?" His voice dipped into deep tones as he uttered the question, eyes meticulously soaking in every inch of his subject.

"I can't stop filling up…" Mehji spat out between breaths, his body overtaken by a flurry of senses. "You're going to fucking pop me!" He ballooned so quickly and with such force that a natural sense of alarm rang out. But as Windsor's weight leaned into the sensitive, swollen pillow forming on his front, a rapturous pleasure overtook him. Its forceful growth continued unabated, blocking his view below his own midriff, before juice began to trickle out into the rest of his body.

"You'll be alright," Windsor spoke with a genuine tone that betrayed his devious expression. "Just relax, berry boy. Your fantasies are coming true."

At once, both of his breasts swelled up, spurning another gutteral noise from Mehji. His chest pressed against his chin as it grew, deepening the ecstasy gradually welling up in him. As he stared into Windsor's calm eyes his anxious trembling from before dissolved into a ravishing calm. With a smooth motion, Windsor's fingers cupped around his partner's asscheek, giving it a firm squeeze.

As if choreographed, Mehji's cheeks surged with juice. First, his ass ballooned outward, the pressure of Windsor's squeeze growing as it pressed into it. A rush of delight soared in Mehji, to whom the sensation of a hand on his taut skin felt electric, only intensifying as billows of juice pumping into him.

Moments later, desperate for room, the juice worked its way up past his chest. His lips pursed, pressed together by his face swelling as though with millions of calories at once. Mehji's eyes rolled back uncontrollably, unable to be kept in control as the tide of sweet liquid sqeezed itself inside of him. The emotions ripping through him, spurred on by the pressure of Windsor's sensual grip, overloaded his thoughts.

"Now this is what I'm into…" Windsor grumbled, his face twisted in a nefarious, turned-on smirk. As Mehji ballooned up in his arms, staggering at the sheer heft of his burgeoning frame, he was forced to step back. Gripping the sides of the swollen lizard's waist, he admired his handiwork with delight. With each deep breath, his nostrils were filled with the scent of fresh blueberry. He bit his lower lip to hold in an unhinged moan.

"You gotta help me, man…!" Mehji shouted as his limbs fattened up with ease, forcing him to extend them into a pose like a starfish. The gurgling, creaking bedlam from inside of him overwhelmed his ears as he gushed with fluid. His skintight suit squeezed against his inflating body, stubbornly refusing to break at even a single seam. The dark juice handprints staining his apparel had spread to encompass him entirely. Traces of the saccharine violet fluid were pressed out of Mehji's every pore, stickying the floor with a puddle beneath his feet.

"How am I… supposed to live… as a blueberry?" Words eked out of the stout reptile's mouth between heavy breaths. He waddled about, desperately redistributing his ballooning weight. At first, most of his girth localized around his waist. But the unrelenting pressure mounting within him forced its way outward, rounding his frame out smoothly. Rapidly transforming in such a revealing costume was embarassing, no matter how well it contained his bulging form.

"Well, for starters, I hope you like the flavor." Windsor joked, stepping back again. "But besides that, you don't have to do much of anything. Kick back and go with the flow." Then, with a swift but gentle tackle, he shoved into the massive lizard. With a yelp, Mehji stumbled back before his balance gave out and his gargantuan rear collided with the ground. "Not that you have much of a choice at this point."

Mehji flapped his limbs with all the force he could muster, but they resisted, steadily growing bulkier with each passing second. All he could do was wiggle his hands and feet, reveling in the sensation of being blown up into the spitting image of a blueberry.

His legs had grown so wide that they seemed to melt into the girth of his waist. His feet wriggled, vainly struggling against the force of his round groin gradually swallowing them up. The bubbling juice roared as it surged up his body to fill out his torso similarly, trapping his hands. As he swelled into a near-perfect sphere, losing complete control of his distended body, his suit miraculously stretched to encompass it seamlessly. The growing lizard moaned and groaned, eyes darting around to observe his impossibly huge body progressively expanding. Forced apart by his torso, he helplessly watched his hands disappear over the sides of his own burgeoning figure.

Windsor, with ever-curious hands, felt at the seams of the suit running flush down Mehji's spherical body. Despite showing obvious signs of tension, it remained unbroken, even around the areas that had fattened up the most. The thin belt wrapped snugly around the blueberry's midsection caused his flesh to purse gently around it. Like an artist surveying their own masterpiece, he radiated with joy, staring on at Mehji with a serene smile.

But Mehji continued to inflate. As he fattened beyond his own range of reach, his feet were ungrounded by the swelling fat between them. His body balloned outward, rising up like a nearly-full beach ball being topped off with air. Back and forth his globular body rocked, skin and suit creaking as though reaching their limits. Mehji's limbs stretched as far as they could, but his body swallowed them up as it swelled even wider.

"Mmph! Mmmm…" While being sucked into his swelling body, Mehji's plump cheeks sealed his mouth shut. All he could manage to vocalize were quiet grunts. He could hardly turn his head, let alone see over the rising girth encompassing it. Even his most mobile parts were similarly trapped, leaving his hands and feet incapable of more than gentle wiggling. "Helpff…" Raised up by his round backside, staring at the metallic ceiling, a single weak word rose to his lips.

"You're so ripe, I could just take a big, fat bite…" Windsor walked back up to the blueberry and embraced it again, pressing his face into the smooth, taut surface. "Or bake the world's biggest pie."

Rounding out, Mehji felt his inflation start to ease for the first time. As his creaking frame finally blew past Windsor's height, it rocked around its center point. The blueberry lizard's weight rocketed exponentially as the final traces of juice surged into him in a quick, steady burst. With that, Mehji moaned loudly, his face too swollen to vocalize anything more complex. As the final wave poured into him, slowing his expansion to a trickle, all that could be heard in the dark room was the raucous sloshing of fluid settling inside him.

Mehji was desparate to shout if it would relieve even a tiny fraction of the pressure to which he had been filled. Despite being painless, his turgid body was in an extreme excess of pressure beyond that which any person could reasonably reach. His face was still hot with feverish embarrassment, stressed largely by the immobility that so immediately overtook him.

"In fact, I have many plans for you," Windsor continued. While talking, he shifted his weight down, rolling the taut round balloon toward himself. It took a few tugs to position him correctly, but eventually, Mehji's puffy face appeared over the top of the round mass. The two watched each other intently as Mehji continued rolling, only coming to a halt as his face pointed down to meet Windsor's head-on. "You're the biggest berry I've ever seen, and that's saying something." Just like before, Windsor stuck a single hand beneath Mehji's bloated chin, caressing it with passion-filled eyes.

But this time, he leaned in to plant a kiss on Mehji's lips. The two closed their eyes and the moment froze for just a second before the lanky dragon pulled back.

"Thank you," he murmured, staring the blueberry straight in the eyes. "Now, go ahead and snap again. Right hand."

It took a moment before Mehji processed what he had been told. The sensation of being trapped in his own engorged body was frankly stunning. Moments later, though, he weakly forced his fingers together, accomplishing a single quiet snap. Instinctively, Windsor raised a single arm to cover his eyes and held his breath.

Incomprehensibly speedily, Mehji felt high tension envelop his entire body, pressing inward in all directions. "Holy--!" Before he could make sense of it, the fat distorting his face disappeared, allowing him to emit half of a startled interjection. Like a water balloon being popped, he deflated, a surge of juice spraying out and covering the room in all directions. As though his transformation played out in reverse, he was pressed completely free of juice in just seconds. In fact, it occurred so quickly that his belly was lifted away from the ground, leaving the short lizard momentarily suspended in mid-air.

But such conditions did not last, as he came tumbling down to the ground, landing on what remained of his cushy paunch before it quickly reverted to its original flat shape. As the wave of juice freed from him landed, raining from the ceiling, he clambered to his feet with a hand on his pounding head.

"I… I popped. I thought you said…" Mehji grumbled, patting at his midsection grumpily. At first, his perceived betrayal by Windsor sparked in him a flash of anger. But as he patted himself down top to bottom with both hands, looking over his decidedly normal-looking body, it fizzled out. "What kind of wizardry is this?"

"Hahahaha," Windsor laughed heartily before scooping Mehji up into a bear hug. Oddly, the former was drenched in deep blue juice, while the latter had reverted to his typical coloration. It ere as though it never changed. "It worked! What a success!"

"Whoa, whoa, what do ya mean?!" Mehji, held up by a pair of arms around his midsection, continued to survey his own hands. "How did you get all that out of me so fast?"

"Alright, I'll explain," the tall dragon set Mehji back down on his feet gently. "This was all a test for that suit. It didn't break and the compression mechanism worked flawlessly." Mehji gave a baffled look, so he continued. "It can basically squeeze you back to shape. See, look! That was all in you!"

Windsor spun around with his hands extended wide, smiling more than anyone witnessing so much property damage ever should. There was a thin pool of juice beneath their feet and not a single centimeter of wall space wasn't coated in the substance. Mehji patted his belly, cogs turning in his head, as he examined the damage.

Did any of that even really happen? He thought pensively. Is this… a dream right now?

"Do you… wanna give these suits out to people?" Mehji inquired, trying to imagine what could have motivated such a mystical invention. "That's your plan to solve the blueberry epidemic?"

"No," Windsor replied directly, still surprisingly cheerful. "Like I said, this world isn't built to accomodate for berries to exist." While speaking, he strolled over to the table upon which the raygun from earlier was set. Mehji recoiled instinctively as he picked it up but relaxed upon seeing it resting on its side in his open palms.

"I must admit I lied about this," Windsor gingerly raised the weapon in the air. "This gun just makes blueberries out of everyone it hits. The only thing here that can read your dreams… is me."

Struck at the understanding that he had been deceived, Mehji's mouth fell agape. What he had just experienced was a snowstorm of emotions hardly able to be captured by words.

"My plan? Simply fill the world with blueberries until it changes." Windsor laid out his intentions plainly.

"Are you the one who started all this, then?" Mehji probed with a gravely serious tone, still unmoving from where he originally stood up.

"No," answered Windsor, his eyes fixed upon his partner to convey his words with identical gravity. "I have my suspicions as to who did but am uncertain." For a moment, in the sickly-sweet subterranean study, the two tensely stared each other down. "So, with all that said…" Windsor stepped forward, still suspending the gun in outstretched arms. "I would like to ask you to be my partner in crime."

Mehji could not have predicted what transpired in the past few minutes. As he looked down at the firearm being given to him, he reached up with a single gloved hand to accept it but froze just inches away. With unsteady eyes, he sought for comfort in Windsor's warm, intent smile. Then, returning his focus, he picked it up by the handle, resting a careful finger on the trigger guard.

The weapon entered his grip comfortably, weighing subtantially less than he anticipated. Windsor relaxed his arms at his sides, glowing with pride at the sight of Mehji in his suit.

"I suppose that does sound a little fun," Mehji smirked as he posed with the gun pointed toward the porcelain-white dragon. He held it for a moment before angling his aim to just narrowly miss to the right. "Who know what else you have stashed down here, too?"

For the first time since he began swelling, Mehji soaked in the room in close detail as he lowered his weapon. All around him were workstations, machinery, tools and clothing. The scene was almost fantastical, decorated with active monitors and branding painted across the walls. A rather simplistic emblem in the shape of a W appeared in more places around the laboratory than he originally noticed.

"Well, in that case, welcome to Wrath HQ… rookie." Windsor's frigidly serious demeanor defroze as he offered a playful handshake. With his empty hand, Mehji reached out and accepted it. "So, how's about we get to cleaning u--?!"

Rambling made Windsor visibly inattentive, so Mehji gave him a swift tug on the arm, pulling the two men into a firm embrace. Before his eyes could flutter open, the short lizard delivered a passionate kiss unto the lips of the other. With one of Mehji's arms around his waist, Windsor let himself slide into the liplock.

Suddenly, the room flashed white. A warm sensation disspiated into Windsor from his back. As though unbothered, he pulled away from kissing the man that just shot him with a toothy, satisfied grin.

"Before that…" Mehji looked directly into Windsor's eyes as he tossed away the still-warm raygun. "I wanna see if your dream body is the same as mine…" He gripped behind Windsor's ass firmly on both sides as the two reptiles pressed into each other, exchanging loving, menacing grins. "…And I wonder if juice tastes sweeter when harvested with revenge." Windsor took in a deep breath as he rested his arms on Mehji's broad shoulders. "Don't hold out on me, now…"

But across the happy face he gazed into longingly, a vivid blue had already begun to spread.

#myart #body inflation #male #blueberry inflation #male belly inflation #expansion #male blueberry inflation #body expansion #male inflation #windsor #mehji #writing #stories

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crucifiedfaerie · 1 year ago

Text

Sparring Sessions ༉₊˚✧

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

➴ Summary: When Snoke makes you his training partner against his wishes, Kylo vows to make your little sessions as nightmarish as possible. But it gets increasingly more difficult for him as his feelings for you grow.

➴ Word Count: 3.2k

➴ Warnings: no actual smut but lots of sexual tension and slightly implied smut so 18+ MDNI, slowburn ??, snoke in his matchmaker era ???, reader's AND kylo's POV, kylo ren is a mean emotionally stunted dickhead as always, mean!kylo to soft!kylo, so much tension and mutual pining, reader has some fire in her and doesn't take his bs, crylo ren, A LOT of angst, a little bit of fluff, swearing, typos and saint being illiterate probably.

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear @capitanostella @teapartydreams )

A/N: guys i kinda hate how this turned out. but idk im chronically too hard on myself at all times so maybe im just in my head about it. nonetheless, i really hope you guys enjoy. theres no smut in this one, and it is a oneshot currently, but if you guys do actually like it and request a part two, i will definitely consider making a part two with smut. also adam driver is sooo sexy in that gif like... LOOK AT HIM !!

Kylo Ren was always a loner at heart, sparing little attention towards his peers, let alone attempting to seek out positive relationships with them. He simply preferred to be left alone, his hot-headedness couldn't handle a person even remotely getting in his way.

The day Snoke told him he would be getting a training partner, he retreated to his quarters and threw what can only be described as a temper tantrum. His lightsaber shrieked as he swung at the durasteel walls, shouting profanities with each hit.

The following morning when you enthusiastically offered your hand to shake, Kylo simply stared at you. His dark eyes narrowed as they flitted from your outstretched hand to your face in a deadly glare. "We are not, and will not be friends... let's make that very clear." He stated coldly.

However, with each passing day, his hatred for you turned into something different. Despite Kylo's annoyance, he couldn't deny how beautiful you looked and he was constantly catching himself lowering his gaze to your lips.

As the months passed, your relationship built on hate evolved into a strange competition of who could annoy each other the most. Your constant bickering had even started to piss off the Stormtroopers.

The two of you would spend the first ten minutes of your sessions arguing over who got the shittier, cracked training saber. Kylo's favorite excuse being "I won more matches yesterday so I should get the better one." He'd use that even if it weren't true, as if he were hoping you'd somehow forgotten you'd beaten him multiple times the day before.

Some mornings you would breeze past him as he walked down the hall to the training bay. You'd sprint through the doors and hear his footsteps quicken behind you. Your level of speed was something Kylo could never match, which always made him mad. By the time he would make it through the doors, you would already be holding the better training saber, twirling it around in your hand. "Too slow, Ren." You would sneer at him.

Other times, Kylo would arrive to the training bay early, knowing by now that being punctual wasn't necessarily your thing. When you would try to take it from him, he would raise the saber as far as he could in the air, smirking as he took pleasure in watching your futile attempts to jump up and reach it. If Kylo's speed was inferior to yours, your height was most certainly inferior to Kylo's.

He would tell himself he hated how physically close you were to him in those moments, but deep down he knew that wasn't true. Each brush of fabric or slight bump against his side made his heart race... made him feel... something. And whatever it was, he resented you for making him feel that way.

This morning you had woken up feeling different. Your feelings for Kylo had been slowly evolving as well, and you seemed to be unable to get his dark eyes and stupid smirk out of your head. Truth be told, you were beginning to grow tired of how he treated you like some nuisance he only found pleasure in tormenting. As you walked down the quiet halls of Starkiller, you decided you were in no mood for his games today.

"Ten minutes late." Kylo shook his head, "That has got to be a new personal record." He jeered.

You scoff at him and roll your eyes, ignoring his jab and walking past him to pick up the damaged training saber he left for you. With your feet planted firmly on the floor, you take a fighting stance, waiting for him to make the first move.

Kylo lunged at you and instinctively you ducked, catching his saber with your own before pushing it away from your body.

You blocked each other's attacks in silence, the only sounds that filled the room were yours and Kylo's breathing and the clicks of dull metal blades hitting each other.

Kylo watched you intently with a dark gaze, gritting his teeth. Your fiery attitude always amused him. It was something he secretly really liked about you, so your silence today was unnerving. The longer you ignored him, the more he wanted to catch your attention.

"Hey." He said in a low tone as he dodged another one of your attacks.

Your eyes snap to his, narrowing. "What?"

Kylo took in your annoyed expression as a smirk tugged at his lips. He stepped closer, attempting to take a swipe at your abdomen with his blade before answering.

"You're looking lovely today." He smirked, attempting to catch you off guard.

You jumped back from his attack, his blade mere inches from making contact with your skin. "Very funny, Ren." You rolled your eyes, emphasizing his name in a sneer.

Kylo slightly shrugged, still smirking. "Why's it funny? Am I not allowed to compliment you?" He challenged, his tone still teasing.

"Not when it's laced with sarcasm." You mock his tone, taking another hard swing at him.

Kylo's lips curled into a smug grin as he catches your blade with his, pausing his attacks to look down at you, blades still touching. "But what if it isn't sarcasm?" He mused. In reality, he did genuinely think you looked lovely, but in the moment he was being sarcastic to get a reaction from you.

You laughed, ignoring his question. "You know for someone who hates my guts, you sure do try to make quite a bit of conversation with me." You took the opportunity to use your saber to knock his from his hands, sending it to the floor with a clatter. "I'd even say you have a crush on me or something." You jabbed, smirking.

Kylo's jaw clenched at your words, his fists tightening as he watched his saber fall to the ground. He tried to hide that your words struck a nerve with him, and that you were completely right. He did hate you... once upon a time, but things were different now and he absolutely despised how easily you could call him on his bullshit.

"Fucking- shut up." He snapped.

You let out a small huff of a laugh. He was never good at hiding his anger.

"With pleasure." You dropped your saber to the floor and gave a sarcastic curtsy before walking past him, bumping shoulders with him on purpose as you made your way to the door.

Kylo's eye twitched. "You-" He was filled with an insurmountable amount of rage at your audacity. You had really gotten under his skin this time. "Where do you think you're going? Training doesn't end for another two hours." He demanded, his tone shifting dramatically towards cold authority.

You groaned in annoyance. "To my quarters to be alone... Away from you! I'm done for the day."

Kylo scoffed at you, his ego bruised. "Of course you're going to run off. You're too much of a baby to train with me." He stepped in front of you, blocking your straight path to the door as he crossed his arms.

"Asshole." You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath before swiftly darting around him and out the door, leaving him alone in the training room.

His pride was hurt, and he wasn't going to let this go. He stood in the training bay doorway and shouted at you down the hall. "You know what? Don't bother coming back tomorrow! I'll tell Snoke having you as a training partner was a mistake, that you'll never be good enough to train with me."

"Fine!" You shouted back at him, waving your hand in the air behind you and not even turning to look in his direction. "I'm done being treated like scum by you anyways!" You turn the corner, leaving him standing at the end of the empty hall.

Panic and regret instantly washed over him as he watched you disappear around the corner. Kylo didn't actually want you gone, he only said it to get under your skin. He wasn't expecting you to so nonchalantly agree.

Why did I do that?

Kylo tried so hard to resist the thoughts and feelings he had for you that plagued his mind, how just the sight of you made him feel... funny. He always thought that maybe if he was mean enough to you, they would go away. But now with you gone completely, the feelings only rose to the surface.

"Fuck." He muttered to himself as he leaned on the doorframe, face in his hands.

When he looked up his expression hardened, noticing a Stormtrooper in the training bay staring at him. "What are you looking at!?" He yelled.

That night you laid on your bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the events in your head, which only made you angrier.

You massaged your temples in annoyance. "Stupid fucking man-child with his stupid fucking beautiful face and h-"

Your mumbling was interrupted by a light tapping at your door. It was pretty late, and most of the crew was asleep, so you were confused as to who would be knocking on your door at this hour. You were in no mood to talk to anyone though, so you just laid there, hoping whoever it was would go away.

After a few moments of silence, you heard Kylo's voice on the other side of the door.

"It's uh... It's me. I know you can hear me." The sound of his voice caught you off guard, his tone was one you'd never heard from him before. He sounded almost... sheepish.

"I'm sleeping." You shout back to him.

You thought you heard him let out a small laugh. "No you aren't. I just wanted to talk to you. Just- Can I come in? Please?" There was a slight whine to his voice.

You got up and swung the door open, glaring at him. "What?" You gestured for him to enter, your annoyance with him clear from your expression and hand movements.

Kylo stepped into your room, before you practically slammed it shut. He looked as if he were trying to look everywhere but directly at you. "I just... wanted you to know I'm..." He couldn't even finish his sentence. "I shouldn't have said what I said earlier."

You laughed, leaning against your door. "Are you in my room... apologizing to me right now? I'm sorry I just wanna make sure I'm not in some weird dream." You looked at him with a mixture of amusement and perplexity.

Kylo scoffed at you, trying to hide the slight strain in his voice. "I'm not apologizing. I'm just being... courteous... for once."

"..... Courteous?" You laughed, unable to hide how much enjoyment you were getting from this.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, shifting slightly. "Look, just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm not still pissed at you. I'm not saying I'm sorry. I do still despise you, after all."

"Oh, sure." You said sarcastically, nodding your head. "Because when I despise a person, I definitely feel the need to come to their room at midnight to explain myself."

Kylo's eye twitched as you called him out. "I do despise you! I just realized I may have gone too far, so don't be so full of yourself. Gods- I wouldn't have come here if I knew you'd be such a nightmare!"

You sighed, the amusement fading back into hurt and contempt. "If you only came here to insult me and make the situation worse, you can leave and never see me again. Which I'm sure you would love."

He took a step closer to you, pausing before speaking as a twinge of guilt crossed his expression. "Please stay." He tried to sound stern, but he knew he was in no position to give you any commands. "Look... just... come back to training tomorrow." He could feel the power slipping through his fingers.

You've gone soft, Ren. Lost your edge.

Your eyes narrowed as you glared at him. "I'll see you tomorrow." You said coldly, opening the door and gesturing for him to leave.

Kylo's brow furrowed, his ego bruised once again by your attitude towards him, but relieved that you agreed to stay. "Fine." He replied, a glint of anger returning to his eyes.

He went to storm out of your quarters, before stopping in his tracks just outside your door. "I... goodnight." He sounded pained.

What is wrong with me?

You laughed at him again, which only made him seethe. When he turned around to say something though, he realized you had already shut the door, leaving him in the dark emptiness of the hallway.

Kylo clenched his fists, his eyes burning with anger and want. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself, trying to ignore the nagging thought of just... being honest with you about his feelings. Apologizing and asking you to come with him back to his chambers.

Don't be fucking stupid, Ren. She wouldn't want that. Just go now and save yourself the embarrassment.

He walked back towards his quarters, his head hung low, thoughts racing. When he entered his room, he slowly made his way to his bed before collapsing on the soft, dark sheets.

He attempted to rationalize the situation in his head, tried to brush off the entire interaction as nothing.

It's fine. This is just how we are. Tomorrow, we'll go back to normal.

Except none of it felt normal anymore.

Kylo was a mess. The entire ordeal had knocked him completely off balance, making him question himself for the first time. He took a deep breath, the anger in his heart fading to soul crushing emptiness.

Gods- Why am I like this? Every time I want to be kind, I end up going cold and pushing her even further away... I couldn't even say I was sorry and now she fucking hates me.

I dont even know why I want to be so nice to her, she constantly has an attitude and she acts like she's better than me.

His heart sank as he realized.

She is better than me.

He fought back tears, ashamed by his own weakness. Kylo laid completely still, taking a few more deep breaths before finally surrendering.

He shuddered as tears began to fall, and for the first time in his life, he wished he had someone there who he didn't have to hide his pain from.

You sat on the edge of your bed, knee bouncing and staring at the floor. Your mind was running a million light years a minute as you argued with yourself, your heartache and your anger having a moral battle.

I shouldn't have been so harsh, he seemed genuinely remorseful there for a moment... until I made fun of him.

Oh please. Ren is never remorseful about anything. He just enjoys tormenting me at training and was worried about losing that.

But there was an air about Kylo tonight... something different. Something softer that only a trained eye could have seen. And you saw it, you know you did. It was something you had never seen from him before.

I need to talk to him.

You quickly stood up and rushed out the door of your quarters. You didn't make it twenty feet down the hallway before you ran into something- someone.

You yelped at the sudden collision. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the quiet hallway you looked up and your eyes connected with Kylo's. Usually he had this perpetual expression of anger on his face, but now he looked... sad?

It's him.

It's her.

Kylo froze, his body tensing slightly once he realized you were mere inches from him. He had a second realization, and a small wave of excitement and nervousness washed over him.

Did she come to see me too?

"W-what are you doing here?" You whispered, not wanting to admit you were headed to see him.

"What are you doing here?" Kylo asked back, tilting his head. The truth was, he had just finished crying and he was fighting the urge to tell you how badly he needed you. How every time you're near him he finds himself gazing at your lips. How he absolutely adores your fiery attitude that always comes out the most during your sparring sessions, despite how much he pretended to hate it. It was a losing battle, he could only hide how he felt for so long.

"I asked first..." You attempt to retort, but trailing off as you notice his tear stained cheeks in the dim lighting of the hallway. Your expression softens. "Ren, have you been crying?"

Before you could even begin to process the foreign idea of someone as cold as Kylo crying, your face was in his hands and his lips were crashing into yours.

You froze initially, before melting into him. His kiss was full of need, months of tension snapping as your lips moved against his. He moved his hands down to wrap his arms around you. His grip on you was gentle but he held you tightly, as if he feared you would disappear at any moment.

Kylo pulled away just for a moment to breathe, pressing his forehead against yours. His heart raced with emotion, and his body felt entirely out of his control.

"I don't care if you hate me, I just couldn't survive much longer without telling you how much I need you." His voice was soft but there was a tinge of desperation to it.

Your fingers snaked their way through his dark locks. "I never hated you, I just thought you hated me." You smiled slightly, out of breath.

The energy from your touch and your words surged through Kylo's body, any remnants of the fear and contempt he felt just hours ago had now disappeared completely.

"I only ever hated myself for feeling something I didn't understand. But I understand now." He whispered before kissing you again, this time more urgently.

You were everything Kylo ever wanted. Your touch, your voice, your presence. Everything about you enchanted him and in that moment he felt like he had known you for far longer than he actually had. He couldn't stop kissing you, and he never wanted to stop.

Instinctively, you moaned against his mouth. The sound of the sweet noises he drew from you made his whole body feel like it was on fire. He pushed you against the durasteel wall, his lips sliding down your neck and then back up to your mouth. He smirked against your skin at your soft gasps of pleasure.

Kylo pulled away again for a moment, his dilated eyes locked on yours as he breathed heavily. He quickly took your hand into his own, gripping it tightly before taking a few steps back, pulling you away from the wall and leading you down the hallway to his quarters.

The sounds of your hushed laughter and shushing of each other filled the quiet of the hallway as you both practically ran hand in hand. If someone else had been in the halls, you would have looked like two school children running off to do something you shouldn't.

You knew you would both be late to training tomorrow morning, and so did he... but neither of you really cared.

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