. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡crescendo⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
Yandere Alien OC x F!Reader
In which Solwyn tries to fit inside one of earth's vehicles. You try to help by touching his tail.
Y/N tries to reach for the truck’s door handle, already bracing her feet since she knows it’ll take her full body’s momentum to yank the thing open. But Solwyn plants on hand on the top of her head and tugs her backwards. “Don’t you dare!” He gasps, like she were about to set off a bomb. Maybe she was, and didn’t notice. Y/N freezes, her body this time falling into a position meant for combat as she looks around. Nothing is out of order in her first assessment. No obvious attachments to the undercarriage, windows are undamaged, what about-
She can only blink when Solwyn opens the door for her, and again when he looks down at her with a dopey grin that flashes both sets of his golden fangs while his tail begins to swish back and forth. He’s nearly bouncing in place, the black blush on his ear tips back in full as he gestures for her to get in.
Did he just… Yell at her so he could be the one to open her car door?
“You- I thought something was wrong!” She grumbles, but climbs inside anyways.
“Something was wrong! You were going to open the door. That’s my job. I did not cross the galaxy so you could open your own doors.” His eyebrows raise as his hand comes to his chest over his hearts, painting the picture of genuine offense. “I looked it up, the rules of dating humans. You will not touch a single door handle in my presence. Nor will you pull out a chair.”
“Don’t yell at me though! I’m sensitive!” She can’t even try to close her own door, because Solwyn is pushing her arm down to shut it for her. All the while his pleased smile is painted on his face. “Wait, is this why you were so pushy about putting on my jacket for me? Because you read a guide to be a gentleman?” He doesn’t answer, though she knows he hears her as he crosses to the other side.
On the other side of the truck, with his big ass self, is doing his best to carefully fold himself inside. She snickers as the alien prince struggles to untangle his horns from scratching on the roof as well as slide his tail in.
“Did you know-“ Solwyn stops speaking for a moment as he grips the trucks ‘oh shit’ handle and tries to squeeze himself in feet first this time. “In my culture we don’t really have a concept of ‘dating.’ Courtship is a formal contract negotiation. Usually mediated by legal counsel. There are dowries and asset transfers. It's… incredibly stuffy. This is much better. This is… fun. Right?" He searches her eyes, desperate for her to agree, to let him change the subject, to allow him to just be Solwyn, the dork, for a little while longer. "Please say yes. My ego is fragile and I need validation."
Y/N snorts, leaning forward on the steering wheel as the herculean effort of the alien trying to fit his gigantic frame in her car becomes more interesting than any soap opera. She crosses her arms on the top of it, resting her chin on her forearm while Solwyn tries to find the easiest way to tuck his horns inside. “Yes this is very fun. I can watch you do this all day.” She pauses for a moment, then reaches over to try to push his head down when he nearly caught them on the visor. “Wait, did you say dowry transfers? You mean I could have asked you for money? Is it too late for that?” She’s totally joke. (Unless he actually offers)
“Technically, it would be paid to your family. But for you, ask me for anything. In fact, please ask me for things. I will give you whatever you want.” He says, looking over at her as he fights to fit his tail inside.
“Give me your ship keys, I want to take it on a joy ride.” She was just a joking, but Solwyn replies to her immediately.
“Done. But, can I come? You can fly us wherever, I’ll even sit at your feet like a dog. Just let me come too.”
“Deal, I don’t know how to fly a ship anyways so you’ll have to teach us. Does being a prince mean we can break traffic laws?” She says, deciding to do more than just laugh at him so she reaches over to grab at the thick middle of his tail and yank it inside. She jerks backwards when she frees it from where it was pinched against his back, her head knocking against her window. Y/N rubs the sore spot with her hand, then looks down at the dragon-like tail in her lap. It's so long that it slopes across her thighs and hangs down her legs to the truckbed floor, the furred tip brushing over her feet in an effort to get comfortable.
“NGKH!” Solwyn lets out a strangled sort of sound at her sudden touch, but when he notices her curious glance he tries to keep talking. “Y-Yes. I don’t break them, but you can. I’ll change the laws so you’re not breaking them anymore.”
The process of inserting himself into the cabin is an exercise in silent, profound humiliation. And then, she grabs his tail.
A shockwave of pure, unfiltered sensation rips up his spine and explodes in his skull. Her hands are on him. On a part of him that is deeply, unshakably his. The scales are sensitive, designed to detect minute shifts in air pressure. Her touch is a wildfire. He sucks in a sharp, ragged breath, his entire body going rigid. A black, inky blush floods his face, creeping down his neck and disappearing into the collar of his bodysuit.
When she yanks, freeing the tail from its awkward pinch, he makes a choked sound that is definitely not dignified. And then her tail is in her lap. Her… LAP.
She wiggles slightly, then like any normal curious human she rubs her palms across the scaled surface. It's oddly smooth, like a snake but the scales are a bit more defined. The long fur ontop of the whole length is soft and silky between her fingertips. To be honest, she's been wanting to touch his tail since the moment she saw him. She's only human, after all.
He can feel the heat of her thighs through the denim of her jeans. He feels every twitch of her muscles as she settles, and then her hands are on him again, stroking, exploring.
He thinks his brain might actually be melting.
"Oh, stars," he chokes out, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Your hands. They're… they're on my tail."
"You're right, it really is warm. Are you comfortable?" She asks, looking over at him while her hands still stroke his scales, but she freezes. Solwyn is slouched low, his graceful form curled like a shrimp while his long shins are pressed against the dash in a way that screams anything but, 'comfort.'
"Oh my god." She snickers into her fits, lips pulled back in a grin as she takes in his state. "God you're so damn big. Good thing the truck bed is long. If we cuddle, it'll be just because you're too big to fit by yourself."
He’s dimly aware of her words, of her playful teasing about his size. He forces his eyes open, staring down at the long, black appendage resting across her lap like some absurd, exotic pet. The contrast of her pale skin against his obsidian scales is intoxicating. In his head, he begins rewriting the list of date-night rules; rule number one, tail touching now requires a signed waiver and a thirty minute cool-off period.
He cannot form words. Her hands are still on him. The contrast is stunning—the smooth, cool slide of scales against her palms, the ticklish silkiness of the white fur that tops the appendage. The way her thumbs rub against his scales is a slow, methodical torture.
‘Are you comfortable?’ she asked him. Like he wasn’t currently achieving a state of being that transcends mere comfort.
Her question finally pierces through the fog in his brain. Ah, right. He has to respond. He blinks, his white eyes hazy and unfocused. He becomes aware of his body position for the first time: his knees are practically crushed against the dashboard, his head is bowed, his horns wholly inadequate for providing headroom in this primitive terran vehicle. He is, by all accounts, profoundly uncomfortable. But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except her hands.
"I am… transcendent," he wheezes, his voice thin and breathy. "I have ascended to a higher plane of existence. Physical discomfort is a triviality."
He looks down at her hands on his tail, gulps audibly, and feels a blush so intense it threatens to set his hair on fire. The base of his tail, which is still pressed awkwardly against his own back, begins to tremble. The white, fluffy tip, resting near her feet, gives an uncontrollable little wiggle. It’s an autonomous, traitorous movement that betrays his state of utter, pathetic bliss.
"Oh, stars," he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. "Don't stop."
His eyes fly open a millisecond later as his brain catches up with his mouth. "I MEAN, WE SHOULD PROCEED TO THE DRIVE-IN! TO ACCELERATE OUR TRAVEL! SOON! QUICKLY! BEFORE THE FILM IS AT AN UNSATISFACTORY POINT IN ITS NARRATIVE ARC!" he yelps, his voice cracking.
He lets out a frustrated groan, letting his head thunk back against the headrest. "I'm sorry. I'm being… a lot. This is your fault. Your hands are should be classified as weapons of wanton-destruction."
Her laughter and teasing about his size breaks through his spiral. He manages a weak, watery smile. "By maximizing my spatial inefficiency, I create a tactical imperative for my… my cuddle-mandate. It's no longer a preference. It's a structural necessity. You cannot possibly deny me now. To refuse would be in direct violation of the laws of physics."
He risks a glance at her, his white eyes shimmering with desperate, hopeful amusement. "So… you have to cuddle me. It's science."
His entire focus, however, remains centered on the tail in her lap. With a conscious effort, he gives the long muscle a slight flex, causing the fluffy white tip at the end to twitch against her ankles. The movement sends another shiver of hypersensitivity through him.
He’s a mess. A gigantic, overheated, ridiculously large mess, folded into a tiny truck cab with the woman of his every alternate lifetime, and she is currently stroking his tail like he's a rare, exotic pet she just acquired. It is, by a wide margin, the best and worst moment of his entire existence.
