Adam Driver Character Imagines

~Road Rage-Kylo Ren-NSFW~

Smut warnings: brief breeding kink (no pregnancy) (use of birth control)

Kylo Ren had road rage.

That was as simple and straightforward as anyone could put it. The man already had a temper that liked to flare at any and all opportunities; naturally, that temper would follow him into the confines of his little black Porsche. Frankly, it was a miracle he could even fit his massive frame into the sleek sports car. Sometimes you wished he couldn't.

Perhaps if his car was slower, he wouldn't be so reckless.

You were foolish for hoping he would be any different tonight.

Tonight was another celebratory banquet for First Order Enterprises. Another black-tie event to attend. Another evening filled with offering fake smiles to more corrupt, stingy rich people who did sleazy things with their mountains of money. It was easier to get through nights like these now that Kylo Ren was at your side. Kylo, who was once just their coworker and now sat at the top as their CEO. After his mentor passed, the position was handed over to him.

His moods had seemed to worsen since then. He would come home with bags under his eyes and his tie hanging loose around his neck. He would sink down in bed beside you, tired beyond belief but never failing to pull you into his arms. A kiss on the forehead, his strong arms pulling you to his chest, and his breath fanning against you. Just how you both liked it.

It had been a busy last few months for him since he needed to adjust, but things were starting to decline again. Once winter started to roll around, he usually got a bit of a break.

The only reason he was grumpy now was because of his distaste for the event.

That is precisely why he is now zipping through traffic on the highway. Merging unsafely and barreling past big trucks. You sit practically sunken into your leather seat, fingers gripping the interior door frame. You brace your feet--which had been stuffed into a pair of red bottoms--against the carpeted floor and wince.

"Kylo," you mutter, terrified for your life.

He ignores you. You glance over at him, normally finding his driving skills so attractive. When he was flooring it like this, that all went out the window. His jaw is clenched and full lips are pushed together in concentration. His brow is furrowed as always, eyes hardened and scanning his surroundings. Both hands tightly grip the steering wheel, yanking it from side to side and gliding over the leather.

You like him dressed up like this, but you would rather not have him as a well-dressed corpse. Head to toe in black, save for the red-bottomed dress shoes he had chosen to match with yours. In the dim light of the interior, his veins are prominent against the back of his hands as he practically white-knuckles the steering wheel. The silver metal of his wedding band shines faintly.

"Kylo!" You gasp, this time more angrily as he slams his hand against the horn.

"It's fine," he grumbles. "Relax."

You cross your arms. "How can I relax when you're trying to-" you are cut off by another gasp as he swerves into the right lane "-get us killed!"

To your disbelief, a small smirk tugs at his lips. You huff at him and turn your body away in the seat, showing him your distaste.

It is a relief when the Porsche finally pulls down the off-ramp leading further into the city. Kylo is forced to slow down as the traffic trickles into congestion. The buildings shine in the darkness of night; illuminated by glowing lights. You finally take a breath as the car approaches the old memorial hall in which the banquet would be taking place.