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lsunstreakerl · 3 months ago

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just imagine the walk of shame as I bring you all this fic, please and thank you. 6.6k of the tentacle verse I clearly said I would not be revisiting. if you aren't caught up, this verse was born during the smut prompts of February, and you can probably guess what the prompt was! this has also been referred to as the sea creature charles au. part one, part two.

helllooooo this is explicit! there's a chunk in the beginning, and then I got lost in the sauce for worldbuilding, and then back to being explicit near the end.

pairings: charles leclerc/max verstappen

relevant heads up: literally everything from the first two fics, a dash of body horror, uh, biting in a violent way, and sharkstappen. questionable dietary habits when you think too hard about it.

Charles has been a massive dick the entire season, and Max is over it. He doesn't want anything to do with him, even though Charles keeps shooting him quick glances at the drivers dinner. He's been trying to get a moment alone with Max for weeks, but Max isn't interested.

He's going to sleep for a week, eat junk food, maybe go clubbing with Daniel, and play video games. It's his entire plan for the break, and nowhere in it does he have Charles.

Charles tries to corner him after dinner anyways, frowning as he boxes Max in a hallway corner as everyone is leaving.

"Max, can we talk? Please? I know you are upset with me, and I want to fix that-"

"You did not seem interested in fixing it during the season."

Max isn't interested in what Charles has to say- wants this conversation to be over with already.

Charles presses his lips together, eyebrows furrowed.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but even if I could just see you over break? Get lunch?"

Whatever gets him off of Max's back.

"Sure."

Max doesn't mean it- has no intention of actually following through, but Charles seems relieved, shoulders relaxing as he gives Max an apologetic grin.

"Thank you."

------

Max has come up with an excuse the last three times Charles had reached out to him, but he really does mean it this time- he's not feeling well.

He's dizzy constantly, thirsty and weak. He has no idea what's wrong with him, and no combination of over the counter medications have been able to get rid of the ache in his gut, settled just behind his stomach.

He feels like shit.

He's been chugging water down, but it's not enough, and everything feels too bright and too dry- he's going insane.

Max had been meaning to wait it out, let it get better naturally, but it's only getting worse now, and he's not even sure what it is- just knows he needs something.

He's half delirious in his bed, tangled in his sheets. It's dry, so dry he feels sick with it, and he needs some kind of solution.

Going down to the harbor when he feels like this is out of the question, so he's stumbling over to the sunken bathtub, cranking the faucet on and letting it fill.

It takes forever.

When it's finally filled to the brim, water splashing over the edges, Max sinks down into it, groaning as he settles.

It's marginally better- he doesn't feel like he's going to crack apart at the edges anymore, body finally starting to relax. It's not helping anything else though, his head still spins, and he still has a desperate ache inside of him, but it's enough for him to lean his head against the rim of the tub, eyes fluttering closed.

------

Max wakes up when the water has gone cold, manages to fight through the haze to drain the tub, filling it back up with warm water. He's hungry- has no idea when he last ate- but there's no way he leaves the tub, not when it's the only thing that's helped.

His fingers are shaking when he turns the faucet off, head thunking against the side of the tub again. He knows something is wrong- really wrong- but he's spiraled too far to do anything about it- his phone is in the other room. He has no idea how long he's been in the water.

His eyes drift shut again, and he starts accepting that this is somehow his fate. 'Formula 1 Champion Max Verstappen Found Dead in Bathtub!' isn't quite the end he'd been hoping for.

------

"-ax. Idiot."

There's something....

Max groans, slowly waking up. There's something in his mouth, stretching his lips wide and filling his throat, slick and strong. It's satisfying the thirst that water hadn't, thick and viscous inside of him.

He shifts and realizes there's something between his legs as well, coiling up further and further- he's so full, feels so much better than the ache of before.

His throat is stretched too wide for him to swallow, but he doesn't need to, eyes blinking up to hazily stare at his savior.

Charles is cramped into the bathtub with him, looking equal parts concerned and annoyed.

"Good morning, you stupid, petty brooder."

Max makes a muffled noise. Charles is... Charles is good, he takes care of Max, he'll make it better.

Charles sighs, and then Max is being pressed tight to his chest, sharp teeth scraping his nose as he leans down to kiss him.

"You see how dumb you were being now? You are changing, Max. You have cycles now too, and ignoring them- ignoring me- is only going to hurt you."

Max isn't quite following. He's feeling so much better now- his needs are met, and he kind of wants to get fucked.

Really wants to get fucked.

It must be apparent to Charles, who looks annoyed with him.

"I am not giving you a clutch in your bathtub, Max. We are going back to the cave, and I am going to breed you properly. We're behind schedule now anyways, since you wanted to be so fucking stubborn. You'll still be carrying a week before testing starts."

Sure, whatever Charles wants. Whatever gets Max more of this, feeling better than he has in days.

------

Max is draped across Charles' lap, tentacles working their way across his body. His eyes roll back into his head as the one in his ass pushes further into him, thicker than what he's used to.

He's pretty sure Charles has given him the actual clutch already- he feels full even in the rare moments there aren't tentacles inside of him. That doesn't stop him from moaning around the one in his throat as they squeeze tighter around him, holding him in place.

He vaguely remembers the prior years, but they hadn't been as... intense, as this year. Max has never needed it like this before- he can barely stand to have the tentacles out of him, pressed close to Charles constantly.

Charles has one of his hands pressing on Max's spine, pushing him further down as Max tries to squirm.

"If you had not been ridiculous earlier this would not have been so bad, Max. But no, you wanted to be petty and wait, and it's messed with your head, yes? You need more?"

Max wants more. He wants more bad, trying to push his hips back up into Charles' hand even as the tentacle inside of him swells, pushing inside of him into sweet spots he didn't know he had.

It's still not enough, he wants-

He wants another clutch, body desperately trying to accommodate for it, starting to wiggle in Charles' lap.

Charles makes a low noise, apprehensive.

"Max, if I give you more it's going to be a lot, yes?"

Max doesn't care, just needs to be full, needs to settle the empty ache he's feeling.

"Okay. Hold still for me."

The tentacles around him tighten, holding him down as the one inside of him starts to rhythmically swell and compress, and then Max can feel it-

It's not like with the clutch, where there's a full pressure. It's a hot swell inside of him, heavy and viscous, more liquid than anything. Max finally falls still as it seeps inside of him, weighing him down.

There's a moment where it feels perfect, exactly what he needed, but then it keeps going, pushes into being too much- Max wants to struggle, but it's pushing him down, making him feel like he's made of lead.

Charles coos softly at him even as Max tries to whine against the tentacle in his mouth, because it's starting to hurt.

"There you go, yes, that was a full brooder drop. I did not think you were ready for that yet."

Max doesn't think he was ready either. It's too much inside of him, overwhelming everything else he could possibly feel. Charles' fingers brush over his cheek as the tentacles start withdrawing.

"Good job, Max. Perfect brooder for me, even if you made things difficult for us both."

There's a soft kiss to the side of Max's face.

"You had me very worried, when you wouldn't respond. You need this just as bad as I do now, but you don't remember, so you have to trust me, yes? Even when you are upset."

Max is barely following- gives a raspy noise that hopefully passes for confirmation. Charles nips lightly at him, teeth pricking into his skin.

"You're going to need extra food now- that is a big one."

The tentacles are lifting Max out of Charles' lap, and he groans at the feeling of everything shifting inside of him.

"Shh, it's alright, I'm just putting you back in the water."

Whatever Charles wants. Max is too exhausted to offer any input.

------

Max blinks awake to the sound of splashing, eyes cracking open. Charles must be back with food, although he's usually a bit quieter coming into the cave.

He freezes, breath catching in his throat, heard pounding.

There's someone else looking at him, settling along the rocks across from Max's ledge. It's a complete stranger, large orange tentacles dragging against the stone. They remind Max of an octopus, suckers decorating the underside of them.

He isn't breathing.

The man is leering at him, leaning forward.

"Hello breeder. You're new here, aren't you?"

Max scowls, even as he shrinks back further onto his ledge.

The man just moves closer, tentacles starting to drop into the water, drifting in Max's direction.

Max clenches his jaw, eyes narrowed.

"Get out."

"Oh?"

The man stops moving, eyeing Max.

"Isn't that cute. What exactly are you going to do, brooder? You're barely turning, and everyone knows that's the best stage. You're all so...

There's a tentacle trying to wrap around his ankle, and Max yanks his foot back- but the suckers cling, stretching his leg out in front of him instead.

"...Vulnerable."

Max's breathing picks up. He's in danger, real danger here- someone has come into their cave, and Charles isn't here, and Max is going to-

"You smell wonderful too. Young, well bred-"

Max feels more tentacles starting to slide across him. They're nothing like Charles, none of the smooth slide that he's used to. He's trembling.

"-scared."

He's running out of options- not that he had many to begin with- and Max swallows, curling his lip up in a futile threat.

The man just laughs softly, and then his eyes narrow-

Max is plunged underwater with him, breath leaving his lungs as his eyes fly open. They're going deep, by where the cave entrance is, and Max panics. He's pretty sure the man is an octopus, and he's pretty sure they're somewhat cannibalistic, and he's not fucking dying here.

He doesn't even think about it when he sees the tentacle heading for his neck- just lunges forward, mouth open as water rushes in, before he gets his teeth on the tentacle and bites.

It's hard and rubbery, thrashing in his mouth, but Max digs deeper- something in the taste is lighting up his brain, adding to the anger.

Max is better than him. It doesn't fucking matter that he's somehow ended up with a life where he spends some of his year fucked full with eggs- he's not some kind of cowering incubator.

If this man is stupid enough to come after Max-

He'll kill him.

The tentacle in his mouth flails wildly as Max digs his teeth deeper, and then it snaps, bursting in Max's mouth as he spits it out. He's furious.

A stranger, in their cave, coming after Max, when he has eggs-

The man looks angry, but there's not currently any tentacles on Max- he's withdrawn them all around his body, nursing the bitten one.

The water is bloody around them.

Max lowers his head, still watching him. He's floating in the water, but he looks like a threat now. He doesn't care if he has to go one by one- the man can either leave now, or he can leave in pieces.

He snarls at Max, but his body language isn't aggressive anymore, and he's slinking towards the cave entrance.

Max won't relax until he's gone, but at least he's leaving.

Which is of course when Charles comes in.

It's fast- Max can't really keep track of it, just knows there's a blur of dark blue and bright orange, and then Charles is slamming the man against the rock walls of the cave, biting a chunk out of his throat.

It should make Max sick. There's no possible way the man is alive, not with the way he looks when Charles lets go of him, using a dark blue tentacle to push the body outside.

The only thing Max feels is satisfaction. Charles came back and protected them.

Charles' eyes are wide when he sees Max underwater, and then he's being yanked to the surface, laid out in Charles' lap as worried hands stroke over his face, smooth tentacles gingerly wrapping around him.

"Max, Max can you breathe? How much water did you- Max, baby, please-"

Charles looks two seconds from CPR, and Max lifts a hand to bat at him. He's fine.

He tries to open his mouth to say that, but there's a weird whistling noise when he inhales, and Charles' eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh- Oh, Max! That is amazing, you have-"

Max has fucking gills.

------

Charles brings them both back to the surface.

"You were using them fine when I came in, why can't you use them anymore?"

Max is scowling.

"Because I am not supposed to breathe underwater, Charles. I am a human person- not whatever weird fish shit you have going on."

Charles furrows his brows.

There's still flecks of blood on his face.

"But you are? You are a brooder, Max. Yes, you are turning faster than I thought you would, but you're still turning. Which is what I expected? We talked about this."

What.

"No? No, Charles, we definitely didn't- you said something about the chemicals messing with my memories. There was not any discussion of gills."

Max pauses.

"And I sort of thought when you were calling me a brooder it was-"

He makes a face, because he thinks about bringing it up every year, but by the time he remembers, it's always right before he forgets.

"-it was derogatory or something. Like calling your partner a slut."

Charles raises an eyebrow at him.

"And you were okay with that?"

Max tosses his hands up, frustrated. There's a complicated swell of emotions inside of him, and they're getting harder to suppress, thick behind his throat.

"I was more concerned about the egg thing, Charles!"

Charles is resettling Max where they're floating in the water, tentacles brushing soothingly across his skin. Max blinks rapidly.

"I did not explain it very well, Max. I'm sorry, it is also just that-"

Charles huffs, and his gills flare on the side of his neck. Max had never really noticed them before- Charles takes care to keep them closed above water.

"We only take one brooder in our lifetimes? And you obviously are the first I have had, and I don't exactly- I mean, Lolo has told me some about what his partner went through, but obviously these things are different."

Max blinks, digesting Charles' words. Processes.

His eye twitches.

"You don't know?"

Charles winces.

"Not really."

Max can't tell if he wants to scream or cry, and instead a slightly hysterical laugh bubbles out of his lips.

The tentacle thing- manageable, if Max doesn't think too hard about it.

The egg thing- a little harder to deal with, but Max can compartmentalize.

The gills? His entire body turning into something different, something he has no control over? Something even Charles doesn't understand? He has no idea how to handle that.

"So, what? I'm going to go full fish person? Did you-"

Max cuts himself off, doubling over in laughter, even though it isn't very funny at all.

"Did you turn me into a fucking mermaid, Leclerc?"

"Max-"

Charles sounds concerned, hands trying to settle on Max's waist, but Max twists away. He can't tell if he wants to smash Charles' head against a rock, or his own.

"I mean- what the fuck? Genuinely, what the fuck? How do I even- How am I supposed to handle this, huh? Do you know? Did you think about that before you yanked me off the beach?"

Max is feels like he's going off the rails, hands flying as he speaks, voice getting higher as his eyes get worryingly wet.

"Where, at any point, was I even asked?"

Charles flinches.

Max isn't done.

"Nowhere! Absolutely nowhere! No one ever went 'hey Max, do you want to be a fish person for the rest of your life?' because the answer would have been no!"

His chest is heaving, eyes darting around the cave wildly.

"And now- and now every year, I have these fucking eggs, and they are- they are mine, and we fucking abandon them. I did not want to be a parent, but I refuse to be that kind of parent. I don't care that it's 'nature', Charles, it's not me!"

Charles looks at though Max has stabbed him, hands helplessly reaching for him even as Max shifts away.

"On top of it all, I am turning into a fucking mermaid!"

His words are shaky, and he's trembling. He wants to curl up, to protect the eggs. He doesn't know if that's Max Brain or Fish Brain- is there even a difference?

He wants to cry.

He wants to punch Charles in the face.

Charles is keeping his distance, giving Max the space he's asked for, even though it looks like it's physically paining him.

"Max-"

Max bursts into tears, curling up on his stupid rock ledge, wanting Charles near him, despite the fact that the whole thing is his fault.

There's a brush of a tentacle against him, and when Max doesn't shove him away, Charles cautiously drifts closer, pulling him into his chest.

"I hate you."

The tentacles are wrapping around him, cocooning him in the safety that is Charles.

"I'm sorry, Max."

It doesn't fix anything.

------

Max refuses to try and breathe underwater with Charles around. He's refusing to do much anything with Charles, which is extremely distressing for both him and probably also the eggs.

He feels terrible for the eggs- but he can't bring himself to get over it.

Charles is out hunting again, even though Max is on a self imposed hunger strike since early morning.

He slides carefully off the rock ledge back underwater. It's definitely a mental block- telling himself that it's okay to open his mouth and inhale water isn't going over well with the reasonable side of him.

He grits his teeth and tries anyways.

The first rush of saltwater is the worst, stinging his nose and the back of his throat, and he's expecting to choke, prepared for it-

He takes an even breath.

And then another.

Slowly, he starts to relax, carefully letting go of the rock ledge, where his fingers have had a death grip on the stone.

He kicks his legs, floating in the water as he adjusts. It feels like his regular breathing, just-

Through his neck.

This is fine.

Max tries to push his leg at the side of the wall to push off further into the water, but a shooting pain rips through his hip, and he immediately brings both legs up to his chest, hissing.

He gingerly tries to extend his leg to the side again, but there's a stiffness to his hips- they just won't work with him.

It's not a reason to panic. It's probably just a weird muscle cramp.

A really weird muscle cramp, on both sides.

Or maybe the fucking octopus tentacle he'd bitten off yesterday had a slow acting poison in it and he's dying.

He kind of wants Charles to come back, even if he's mad at him, because his legs aren't working, and he's about to start freaking out.

Max twists his core, scrunching up to push off the wall with both feet backwards, swimming back to the surface until his fingers are gripping his rock ledge again.

He pokes the top of his head out of water, blinking his eyes to adjust back to the dim light of the cave. He's still breathing through the gills, which is not any less weird than it was the first time.

There's a stack of fish near the edge- Charles has been in and out all day, trying to find something enticing enough for Max to break his hunger strike.

Max has been holding out on principle, but Charles still isn't back, so he drifts closer, picking through the pile.

It really is a good haul- fat fish, plenty of protein. Max isn't entirely sure what he's looking for, but he knows what he's not, so he carefully picks through the pile, discarding fish at random.

There's a particularly large trout near the bottom of the pile, and Max inspects it carefully before deciding he wants it.

There's just one problem- his ledge is back to his left, and his legs aren't doing him a whole lot of favors- he needs his hands.

Can't swim with both hands if he's holding a giant trout in one.

His eye twitches. Charles is never finding out about this.

Max sighs heavily, cringing as he lifts the trout, the slick scales against his teeth and tongue, gripping it between his teeth as he pushes back for the ledge, spitting it out onto the rock as soon as he arrives.

Disgusting.

Problem number two-

Charles has always deboned Max's fish. Max has no idea how to do it on his own.

He pokes at the slimy scales for a moment, trying to remember how Charles does it.

Except Charles is some kind of squid person, with freakishly sharp nails and lifetime of experience behind him, and Max has... none of those qualities.

Well.

He's got the gills now, but that isn't exactly helping him.

Does he just...?

Max grips one fin of the trout in one hand, holding the rest of the body with the other.

He gags, and then he rips.

It tears easier than he'd expected, and he's not near as disgusted by the metallic tang of blood as he should be.

He's not really sure where to go from here.

There's exposed meat now, but does he just... rip it out?

Max has not been appreciating Charles' fish filleting skills properly. He really doesn't want to rip chunks out, but-

He's hungry, and he's upset, and there's enough things going wrong in his life- the last thing he needs to do is accidentally fuck up the eggs any worse than he already has.

His eyes dart down to the water again, making sure there's no sign of Charles.

He lifts the fish in his hands, noise wrinkling, and bites.

------

Charles had to fight for his life to get this fucking tuna- if Max doesn't eat it, he's going to lose it.

He's dragging it behind him on the way back to the cave. He would've been more worried about leaving Max undefended, but letting an octopus hybrid corpse float up for scavengers is a pretty clear statement.

Admittedly, he hadn't expected Max to bite a tentacle off- he's both impressed and slightly disturbed.

Brooders- human ones anyways- most often turn into relatively peaceful hybrids. Certainly not the kind of hybrids willing to sink their teeth into an octopus.

Then again-

This is Max.

Charles feels his stomach roll with worry as he gets closer to the cave. Max has been furious since the discussion about the turning, and Charles...

He can't blame him. Max has valid points, a genuine reason to be angry. At the same time- his brooder has eggs, and the stress is bad enough- getting into a fight and going on a self imposed hunger strike isn't going to help anyone.

If Max doesn't like the tuna, Charles is going to have to settle him down and force feed him. Also something he doesn't want to do.

This whole breeding season has been a mess- Charles upset Max during the racing season, and then had to break into Max's flat, only to find his brooder a heatsick disoriented mess in the bathtub, and now Max is mad again.

His nose twitches as he swims through the entrance- there's a faint tang of blood in the water. Not Max's, thankfully. Charles focuses, dimming his bioluminescence and sinking to the bottom of the floor, carefully looking around.

There's a few fish bones that have sunken down to the sand- fresh ones. He gingerly lifts one, turning it over in his hands. It's decently large, tiny little nicks and chips in it.

If he didn't know any better, he'd say it looks like the feeding marks from a predator species- sharks and eels, the kind of hybrid species that Charles keeps his fair distance from.

They're not particularly opposed to hunting other hybrids, and Charles is strong- but he's not at their level.

He's grateful that the Mediterranean is warmer waters- they don't have to deal with some of the larger species, or the worst case scenario- orcas.

Still.

He lets the bone drop back into the sand, carefully swimming up to the surface. Ideally, Max would be more comfortable using his gills, and Charles could bring him to their actual nesting site, but his stubborn brooder refuses to try again.

Except-

Max is curled into a tight ball on his ledge, completely submerged. He's also deeply asleep, gills flaring softly with each exhale.

Charles is quiet as he brings the tuna over to the pile that's started to amass on the edge of the pool, but he's pleasantly surprised to find it in disarray.

Max has been in here, and Charles' trout he'd brought back a few hours ago- an impressive catch- is missing. He sets the tuna on the pile, eyes flicking over to the dry stone near Max's ledge.

There's a small pile of bones, and a splattered bloodstain.

Huh.

Charles... didn't think Max would have been willing to do that. He's been deboning all the fish for him, slicing them into little bite sized chunks for his brooder.

But now- it looks like Max had just torn into it.

So much for a hunger strike.

He drifts closer, brushing one hand against the side of Max's face. He has his legs curled up tight to him, although he's grimacing, even in his sleep.

Lolo had said his brooder went through the actual changes rapidly, once they started- a painful few days before she'd finally settled, coherent and also a beautiful flying fish hybrid.

Charles had been slightly jealous of the extravagant fins.

Max must be starting his physical change now, which means Charles can get them both to the real den, further underwater but closer to Monaco.

Now that Max is breathing through his gills, Charles thinks it's time- and he's been carefully working on their space, getting it ready for Max. It's larger than their current one, and it's more secure, solidly within old family territory.

There's a separate brooding space for Max, interconnected by tunnel inside the den, artfully arranged to be as ideal as possible. There's a sunken basin for fish storage, soft kelp weavings across the room, and the space itself is all smooth rock.

There's optional lighting, delicately brought in from above ground, but Charles has found that Max prefers being in the dark while he's being bred.

The rest of the den system is cozy- a sleeping space with a deep layer of sand for sleeping, and a coral structure to wrap around and rest on.

Charles will make more edits to it as he and Max settle, but as far as starter dens- it's acceptable. Max can nest in the brooders den while he turns.

He's a bit worried about this seasons eggs. Turning is going to take everything out of Max, and the stress that's been present throughout the entire ordeal can't possibly have helped. There's a chance Max has reabsorbed any possible nutrients for his own survival.

He carefully lifts Max in his arms, and uses a few stray tentacles to grab the rest of the fish.

Max shifts, face scrunching as he turns closer into Charles' chest. He's starting to produce the viscous gel over his legs and hips- so he's not a tentacle hybrid.

Charles is fairly confident that the gel will start to solidify into the structure of Max's tail, and when he starts to see scale growth is when he'll know Max is almost done.

His brooder is... probably going to want to kill him.

Charles definitely hadn't discussed the tail thing with him, but- he hadn't expected it to start with Max only three years in.

He's deliberately ignoring the glaringly obvious problem of racing. He and Max will figure it out when they get there.

------

Max feels terrible when he wakes up. His entire body aches, and everything is blurry when he blinks, like he's looking underwater.

He realizes a moment later that it's because he is.

He's completely submerged in a new cave, resting on the sand underneath him in a curved basin. There's tentacles draped across him, and Charles looks like he's also asleep a few feet away, half buried into the sand.

Max slowly stretches, arms in front of him as he pops his head above water, but when he goes to move his legs, they don't respond the way he's expects them to.

His head snaps down to look, but his entire lower half is covered in tentacles.

Max reaches to try and push at them, see what's going on, but the movement wakes up Charles, who looks almost-

Scared.

"Max, you're awake."

Max narrows his eyes. Trying to sit up feels weird too, and the tentacles just tighten further around his legs, making it impossible to see.

"Where the hell are we?"

Charles is fidgeting with his fingers, a nervous habit from when they were younger.

"We are in the actual den, now that you can breathe underwater. It's safer, and it is closer to Monte-Carlo also."

Max likes the sound of being closer to his actual flat, back at home, but he's got an equally pressing concern, and there's a bad feeling rising in his gut, twisting and turning inside of him.

"What are you not telling me, Charles?"

Charles winces, tentacles squeezing around Max.

"Remember our conversation about the turning thing?"

Max's heart drops to his stomach.

"No."

"Max-"

"No-"

He yanks away from Charles- his legs won't work with him, abdomen twisting weirdly as he turns, and when he's finally pulled away, hissing at Charles-

His legs are gone.

It's just- it doesn't even feel real. It can't possibly be real, the way Max transitions from smooth human skin to a rough, sandpapery texture.

The tail goes further than his feet had, and it's the same color as his skin, but there's an assortment of dark brown speckles and dots, extending from his ribs all the way down the tail.

There's a few fins, but they're not the frilly kind- they're rigid, clearly defined triangular shapes.

It's a prank. It has to be- some kind of prank, or a nightmare, or an awful drug trip.

It moves when Max moves.

The noise that comes out of him is strangled, high pitched and distressed, because he's-

His head whips back around at Charles.

"Fix it."

Charles winces again, shrinking back from him.

"I can't, Max, you have to learn to shed it normally-"

"Fix it!"

Max cannot be a fish person. Not only does he not want to be a fish person, he doesn't have the time for it, and it's not like he can drive when he has no legs.

Charles at least looks mournful and apologetic, for all the good it's doing him, carefully keeping his distance.

"Max..."

Max is a fish.

Max can't drive.

Max has a tail, because three years ago Charles decided to snatch him off a beach, fuck him full of eggs, and then kept doing it.

He's worryingly close to another breakdown, and he's already cried into Charles' arms about the whole thing, which leaves him with the other emotional extreme- and he's more partial to this one anyways.

"Leclerc."

Charles twitches.

"Max."

Max locks eyes with him, tries to make it as clear as possible that in this moment, he really does mean it-

"I am going to kill you."

Charles' eyes widen, and then he's bolting out of the space, a dark blue blur. Max doesn't waste any time, launching after him.

The tail feels like an extension of him, and he hits a few corners at first, scraping his skin on stone and coral in the unfamiliar cave system, but Charles is getting away, so he keeps going.

Once they're out of the cave in open water things get easier- Max moves fast with the tail, feels the adrenaline rush that he's always craving, eyes searching for where Charles has hidden himself.

There's a large kelp forest nearby, and Max feels a grin stretch across his lips.

Charles is in there somewhere.

He leisurely lounges around the edges of it, watching sharply for any movement. There's so many smells- but he's pinpointing on a specific one, a combination of Charles and something else that makes his mouth water.

It reminds him of their octopus intruder, the way the tentacle had burst in his mouth, chewy flesh under his teeth.

He takes another inhale, drifting down closer to the seafloor. He doesn't know much about squids, but he's pretty sure they like to hide in the sand.

There's a few moments where he doesn't see anything, and then he locks eyes with a familiar green shade, staring right back at him.

Charles' pupils are huge, fearful and wide as he looks at Max.

It's not terribly dissimilar to how Max had felt when he was first yanked off the beach, terrified and feeling distinctly like prey.

He winks at Charles, before swimming a few feet back.

He's not actually going to take a bite out of Charles- even if the idea makes his mouth water, his brain is also screaming at him not to do it. Seeing the look in Charles' eyes when he'd realized Max had seen him- that's satisfying enough on its own.

He opens his mouth, intending to speak, but all that comes out is a low warble. Charles carefully unearths from under the sand, but he moves painstakingly slow to the edge of the kelp forest, ready to bolt again at any moment.

Max rolls his eyes, following his nose to backtrack the scents back into the cave system they'd come out of. He wants to talk to Charles about this.

It's a good thing the tail feels like second nature, because if Max was dead in the water on top of everything else, he might've genuinely taken a chunk out of Charles.

He makes his way back into the first cave he'd woken up in, settling with his head above water.

It takes a few more minutes for Charles to slink in, staying tight to the walls as he eyes Max.

Max sighs.

"I think I am weaker now than I was before, I'm not sure what has you so freaked out."

Charles makes a weird squeaking noise, still watching Max intently, practically pasted against the opposite wall.

"You are- uh, you are a shark, Max."

Huh.

Max looks back down at the tail- not his tail, but the tail-

Nope. Still not real.

He furrows his eyebrows, head jerking back up to meet Charles' eyes as he remembers.

"Charles, the egg-"

Charles winces, worrying at his fingers.

"You absorbed it."

"I what?"

Max's voice goes high and hysterical, one hand pressing to the flat of his stomach.

"You needed the extra nutrients and support, and the turning process is much longer than the actual turn, so really,"

Charles is looking apologetically at him.

"They most likely did not even fertilize."

Max's head is spinning. He has a tail. He doesn't have eggs. He doesn't-

"I'm not doing this."

Charles tilts his head to side.

"I'm not sure...?"

Max throws his arms out, tail splashing unhappily.

"This, the fucking- the fish thing, the egg thing, everything. I want to go back."

"Max, you can't."

The words trip in Max's brain, rattle over everything else because he hates it and it's true.

His entire life has been people dictating what he can and can't do, and now that's extended to his body, his entire being-

He launches forward at Charles. He isn't sure what he wants, just knows he's upset and angry and it's Charles' fault.

"Shit-"

Charles is wrestling him below the water, and Max is snapping at him, gulping in mouthfuls of water as he thrashes.

There are tentacles sliding around him, and he swears he sees Charles mouth sorry at him before Max is being yanked into place, teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder, deeper than Charles has ever bitten before.

He shouts, air bubbles moving towards the surface as the water tints red around them, blood- Max's blood- starting to surround them.

The tentacles around him are squeezing and sliding, and Max hates how it has him relaxing in their grip, hips twitching.

Having sex is not going to make him any less angry, even as he feels Charles lapping at the bite mark he's left behind, and a small tentacle is curling around Max's neck.

Something presses between Max's legs, a weird sensation with the tail, sending lightning bolts of pleasure through him- it feels like Charles is pressing on his prostate, but there's not even anything inside of him.

He jerks in the tentacles grip, eyes rolling back in his head as Charles does it again, and again, and then there's a tentacle sliding inside of him, and Max is moaning, spasming as it pushes deeper.

It's nothing like getting fucked- everything is so much, and he's already losing himself to it, tentacles coiled around his skin as Charles fucks a tentacle smoothly into him.

Max- he's upset, it isn't fair that this is working. Charles makes it hard to stay mad at him, sealing his mouth over the pinpricks in Max's skin, tentacles tight around him.

Max's mouth drops open, head dropping limply as Charles presses further into him, and he feels cored open with it, rearranged in the truest sense of the word.

He almost doesn't recognize the swelling sensation at first, but he definitely feels the pressure inside of him, and he fights back, teeth snapping in Charles' direction.

He doesn't want another clutch, that's not how they solve problems-

It's not until he starts trying to utilize his legs- or his tail, whatever it is now- that he realizes Charles is struggling, tentacles slipping against the rough skin of Max's lower body.

Max lunges forward again, eyes narrowed, but he's unfamiliar with the water, with the tail, and there's still tentacles inside of him, coiling up tight, and he gasps, lightning shock through his system at the abrupt fullness.

Charles takes advantage of his distraction, tentacles tightening enough to hurt, twisting forward and pressing him against the wall- Max freezes as he feels sharp teeth rest gently across the front of his throat.

He's completely still, some animalistic part of him realizing Charles is perfectly poised to rip his throat out. They're both tense, neither of them moving, before Max feels the tentacle inside of him uncoil, and he moans- the undoing is almost as bad, the sudden change in him.

He still doesn't dare move, even as he feels the pressure build up again, but- it's harder for Max to find the anger now. Charles won, so he's in charge. Max knows that's not how it's supposed to work, but he can't find his righteous anger about it, eyes rolling back as he twitches in the tentacles grip, fingers uselessly clenching into his palms as Charles deposits the clutch.

Again.

#ficlet #gonna tag this even though there's no prompt and it's not february OR october #kink prompt #tentacles #yup they're back #sea creature charles #sharkstappen #tfw u accidentally turn your unintentional husband into your natural predator #whoops #the tentacle verse

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phantom-z0ne · 1 year ago

Text

"Billy wasn't sure what the creature ransacking his train car was.” Alternatively, Billy feeds a stray and ends up with a roommate.

WC: 1215

Serendipity (n): the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way.

Billy wasn't sure what the creature ransacking his train car was. Granted, the train car wasn't in the most hidden place ever, but he had made sure to ward it against most creatures. The ward would have made one unable to see the train, and if they somehow saw it anyways, they would have been turned around. He usually was pinged if anything passed his wards, which was why he was so blindsided to see something moving around in his train car. It seemed that this one had slipped through his protections.

The creature was strange and almost hard to look at directly. Its blinding white hair moved independent from the wind and twined around its long, pointed, mint colored ears. It was also small, small enough that Billy thought it could comfortably fit into his cupped hands, and wearing some sort of skin tight suit, black with a stripe of silver along its torso. Or what appeared to be its torso, Billy couldn't really tell when its lower body faded into a long tail.

From his perspective, it seemed to be rummaging through where he usually hides his food, showing slivers of its white paws. Did it pass through the barriers he set because it was hungry?

Billy approached the creature quietly, making sure not to get too close, he wouldn't want to startle it. His efforts were in vain though as the creature snapped its head towards him. It's glowing eyes like headlights, as if staring into Billy’s soul. The green in its eyes swirling hypnotically as the creature bristled at his presence.

Billy watched, amused but vigilant, as the creature puffed up like a cat. Even going so far as to swat a couple times in his direction. So far, it was quite harmless, but the buzzing in the back of his head that he usually equated to Solomon told him to be careful.

Billy slowly dropped to his knees, mindful of the creature's reaction, and shifted his bag to his front. He shuffled through his bag and brought out the small piece of jerky he was saving for later, sliding it slowly towards the creature.

The creature tilted its head, staring at the jerky suspiciously before taking a few steps to paw at it. It apparently passed its test as it devoured the jerky surprisingly fast for its small size. While it seemed to be starving, thankfully it didn't reflect onto its body. It wasn't gaunt or thin, but actually quite plump. Perhaps it just didn't eat for a day or two?

Billy took a small step forward, then a few more when he realized the creature was focused on eating. “So,” He began softly, the creature startling as if it was just realizing he was so close. “What are you doing here, little guy?”

It stared at him silently before once again tilting its head. It was cute, Billy realized. The chubby cheeks and button nose paired with big, shiny eyes made it endearing to look at. His expression melted slightly as he took a closer look at the creature.

The creature's ear flicked as it padded up to him, paws on Billy’s knees. It let out an unintelligible sound, layered and harsh to Billy's ear, yet somehow melodious. Billy blinked, not expecting that noise. The creature looked at him almost expectantly, eyes shining brightly.

Billy hesitantly brought his knuckles closer to the creature, feeling its cold nose as it sniffed him. It was clearly unimpressed and trilled for more food. Billy chuckled under his breath as he brought another piece of jerky to the needy creature. It gobbled it up swiftly, looking up at him and once again begging for more, its eyes almost sparkling.

Billy folded under the cuteness overload and retrieved a sandwich from his bag, splitting it in half. He was worried that it would eat more than it could handle if he kept feeding it. He knew very well what that felt like.

The creature blinked at him, once, twice, before giving him a small, pleasant trill and headbutted his fingers. Billy cautiously set his hand over its silky hair? Fur? All he knew was that it felt divine, though not in the godly way.

“What are you?” Billy asked as he wove his fingers through its hair, genuinely curious on what species the creature was. He had inputted a lot of creatures in his ward but he had no clue what this one was. The tingling at the back of his head spoke otherwise, Solomon knowing very well what it was. He could transform and ask Solomon, since he couldn't really speak to him unless he was Captain Marvel, but that would just scare the creature.

It gave him a look before resuming its lunch, finishing it in record time. Apparently, it deigned him worthy of its presence on his lap as it kneaded his legs then curled up onto them. The purring surprised him, pausing when the creature gave him an impatient look when he halted his ministrations on its hair.

He resumed, of course. Why wouldn't he? It was a nice reprieve from fighting villains as Captain Marvel and watching out for himself when he was on the streets. It was just a quiet moment between him and the strange creature that broke into his home.

…He hadn't realized how lonely he was before this.

He had friends, of course. Freddy, Tawky Tawny, and the Justice League. But… this just wasn't the same. As good as a friend Freddy was, he doubted that he would be willing to just sit and enjoy each other's company silently. Freddy was a huge superhero fan and couldn't help but talk about them in excitement. Not to mention his analyses on Billy’s techniques as Captain Marvel.

The Justice League wasn't any better. They had a professional relationship, thinking of him more as a coworker than a friend. The times he tried to deepen their friendship by inviting them out, he was unfortunately turned down. It seemed that they got along better when they were in battle than not.

Billy usually went to Tawky Tawny for advice, but Tawky Tawny never turned down the opportunity to just spend time in the other’s company. Unfortunately, those times were far and few between, usually because Tawky Tawny was traveling or busy with something else.

With this creature— he’d have to name it eventually, Billy thought absently—all that was expected of him was companionship, nothing more.

Billy felt a cool paw pat his face, the creature looking up at him concerned. His eyes widened before he let out a huff, ruffling its hair. The creature let out a disgruntled chuff and phased through his hands then batted at them, settling down once more on his lap once it was done.

It hadn't been with him long, all he had done was give it some food, and it was already trying to comfort him. Admittedly, it wasn't the best comfort, it stopped once he focused on it, but it wasn't something he expected from a creature he met not an hour ago.

Billy smiled, eyes soft. Perhaps it could stay, if only for a while.

Whipped this up in a couple hours while trying to get out of my funk

Thanks for reading!!

Ao3

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