ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤPERFECT LIFEㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Damian Wayne x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : How Would He Be As A Husband?

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Marriage with Damian Wayne is not a fairytale—it’s an obsession disguised as devotion.

From the moment Damian slipped that ring onto your finger, he silently swore to himself that no force in the world—be it man, god, or monster—would ever take you away from him. You are his, and he is yours. Completely.

Damian is the kind of husband who worships you in his own intense, borderline overbearing way. He refers to you as "beloved" in private and "my wife" with a possessive pride when speaking to others. The word "you" leaves his lips like a prayer, filled with reverence and authority all at once.

He memorizes every single one of your habits and preferences. He knows how you take your coffee, the exact temperature you prefer for your showers, the kinds of books you gravitate toward, and even the way your breathing changes when you're upset. It’s all cataloged in his mind so he can anticipate your every need before you even voice it.

Damian rarely lets you out of his sight. Even when he's at Wayne Enterprises or patrolling Gotham as Batman, his mind is constantly on you. He has cameras in the house to check in on you, and you can bet he’s hacked your phone to keep tabs on your location. He tells himself it’s for your safety, but the truth is he can’t bear the thought of not knowing where you are.

You’ve noticed how Damian often hovers. At first, it felt sweet—your husband leaning against the kitchen counter, silently watching as you cook dinner. But after a while, you realize it’s less about affection and more about possessiveness. He watches you like a hawk, as if ensuring you’ll never slip away from him.

Damian is fiercely protective, to the point of paranoia. You’ve never had to lift a finger in defense because he handles every perceived threat with ruthless efficiency. Some guy at work who got a little too friendly? Fired and blacklisted within the week. A stranger who made you uncomfortable in public? Let’s just say they’ll think twice before crossing anyone again.

He insists on walking you everywhere, hand firmly clasped around yours. When you protest, he coolly reminds you, "The streets of Gotham are not safe, beloved. Allow me this privilege."

Damian is terrifyingly romantic in the most intense, Damian Wayne way possible. He fills your home with rare flowers imported from across the globe, but you’ll find out later he had the entire shipment rerouted because he didn’t want anyone else to have them. He writes poetry about you in Arabic, his handwriting bold and precise, and hides the pages in places he knows you’ll find them.

Arguments with Damian can be draining because he does not let go. He won’t shout or lose his temper, but he will dissect the situation until you either agree with him or admit defeat. And if you try to storm off mid-fight? Good luck. He’s faster, stronger, and determined not to let you leave unresolved.

His softer moments are almost disarming. You’ll catch him staring at you when you’re reading or brushing your hair, and he looks so boyish and in love that it takes your breath away.

Damian is obsessed with physical contact. Whether it’s his hand resting on the small of your back, his arm draped over your shoulders, or his fingers intertwined with yours, he’s always touching you. It’s both grounding for him and a subtle way to remind himself—and everyone else—that you’re his.

Your wardrobe slowly changes under Damian’s influence. He loves seeing you in luxurious silks and soft cashmere, claiming you deserve only the finest. He buys you dresses and jewelry that scream wealth and power, though he always insists that nothing could ever truly compare to your beauty.

He doesn’t tolerate secrets between you two—at all. If you’re upset, he’ll press and press until you spill your feelings, his voice gentle but firm. And if you ever lie to him? He’ll know instantly. He won’t get angry, but his silent disappointment will cut deeper than any words ever could.

Damian spoils you to the extreme, but there’s an undertone of control in it. He doesn’t say it outright, but you know he expects a certain level of reciprocation: your attention, your love, your time.

When he sleeps (if he sleeps), his arm is always around your waist. If you ever wake up in the middle of the night and try to leave the bed, he’ll instinctively pull you back, murmuring, “Stay with me, habibti.”

Despite his obsession, Damian loves you deeply and wholeheartedly. In his own way, he truly believes he’s doing what’s best for you—protecting you, cherishing you, making you feel adored. And in those quiet, tender moments when he presses a kiss to your forehead and whispers how much you mean to him, you can’t help but believe it too.

But deep down, you know: Damian doesn’t just love you. He owns you. And he will never let you go.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

Fantasy Come to Life

Day 23 → Consensual Non-Consent 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content, CNC, drugging, and conditioning

Kinktober Masterlist

The streets of Monaco glimmer under the soft afternoon sun, a golden haze coating the narrow lanes of boutiques and cafés. Your sandals click against the cobblestone as you make your way towards the boutique district.

Excitement pulses in your veins. The air smells of salt from the sea mixed with expensive perfumes wafting from open shop doors. A vacation, you think. Finally, a breath of freedom.

There’s a group of tourists ahead, their laughter bouncing between the buildings, but you don’t pay them much attention. You’re too busy thinking about the new dress you’ve been eyeing since last night. Just a few more minutes, and you’ll-

A hand. Suddenly.

It’s over your mouth. It’s over your nose. You barely process the scent of something sweet before your body reacts, muscles tensing as you thrash, trying to scream. But your voice is gone. Your world is tipping sideways. The bustling streets dim, muffled voices becoming far-off echoes.

You struggle. Harder now, your legs kicking wildly, hands flailing to grab onto something — anything — but it’s useless. The arms around you are too strong, pulling you back, pulling you down. The cloth over your face smells like chemicals, sickly sweet and heavy.

The light above you begins to blur. Your fingers twitch, reaching for the fading streetlights, for the sky, but everything’s too far away. Your limbs stop responding. You’re falling.

And then — nothing.

***

When you come to, your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. Everything is hazy, dark. You try to move but your body doesn’t listen. Panic flares. You can barely breathe, and your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.

Then you hear voices. Men, low and murmuring, their words filtering into your consciousness through the haze.

“... should be waking up soon,” one of them says. His voice is smooth, calm, like this is all perfectly normal.

“Why her, though?” It’s the driver, speaking in a clipped tone. The rumble of the engine thrums beneath you, the subtle vibration reminding you that you’re in a car. “There are thousands of beautiful women here, Max. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

There’s a pause.

And then, a deeper voice, Max, answers.

“I knew the moment I saw her,” Max says, his tone dark, possessive. “She’s meant to be mine.”

Your heart thuds. You can hear him shifting in the seat next to you, close enough that you can feel the heat of him.

The driver scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know her.”

“I don’t need to,” Max replies smoothly. “Some things are undeniable.”

His words drip with confidence, like this is all part of some grand plan that only he understands.

You try to move again, to make a sound, but your limbs are heavy and unresponsive, and fear curls in your stomach like a fist. You’re trapped, lying motionless in the backseat of this car with two strangers, one of whom thinks he owns you.

“She’ll resist,” the driver says. “They always resist.”

Max chuckles, low and quiet. “Of course she will. At first.” There’s a pause, then you hear him shift closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “But I’ll make her understand. She’ll be perfect once I’ve made her mine.”

The air around you feels suffocating, his presence overwhelming. You want to scream, to cry, but your body remains limp, powerless under whatever they’ve drugged you with. You try to focus, to force your eyes open, but it’s like swimming through quicksand.

“She’s pretty,” the driver remarks after a beat. “But not worth all this. You really think she’s the one?”

Max lets out a quiet laugh, a sound that sends chills down your spine. “She is the one. I’ve seen plenty of women, but none like her.”

The driver grunts, unconvinced. “You sound obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Max corrects him, his tone calm, deliberate. “I’m certain.”

A silence stretches between them, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint rustle of fabric as Max leans back.

You fight against the drug still clouding your senses, trying to make sense of your surroundings. The luxurious leather beneath you, the soft vibrations of the car — this isn’t just any car. It’s expensive. You can tell by the way it smells, by the subtle way it moves over the road. These men — they aren’t amateurs.

“What’s the plan, then?” The driver asks, breaking the silence. “You can’t just keep her like this.”

Max takes his time responding. “I’ll introduce myself properly once she wakes up. Once she’s calm.”

“And if she’s not?”

“She will be,” Max says, a thread of steel weaving into his voice. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

Your stomach churns. You try again to move, to scream, but nothing comes out. It’s like your body is a prison, and you’re trapped inside, helpless. You feel Max’s gaze on you, heavy, unyielding. Even though you can’t see him, you know he’s watching, waiting.

“You’re insane,” the driver mutters, shaking his head. “This is a bad idea.”

Max doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, his voice is low, quiet, almost intimate. “You don’t understand,” he says. “She belongs to me. I knew it the moment I saw her walk out of that hotel. I could feel it.”

The driver sighs. “I still don’t get it. Why go through all this trouble? She’s just a girl.”

“She’s not just a girl,” Max snaps, his patience thinning. “She’s the girl. The only one.”

Your pulse quickens. You’ve heard enough to know that whatever Max wants from you, it’s not something you can just walk away from. There’s something dangerous about the way he talks about you, like you’re an object, something to be claimed and owned.

“Whatever,” the driver says, clearly done with the conversation. “Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I always do,” Max replies, the confidence back in his voice. “Now, keep driving.”

There’s a shift in the car, a turn, and you feel the momentum change as they head somewhere new. You fight to stay conscious, to fight through the fog in your mind, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus. The drugs are still working their way through your system, and you can feel yourself slipping.

Max leans in closer again, his voice soft, almost a whisper. “Don’t worry,” he says. “You’ll wake up soon. And when you do, we’ll start over. Properly this time.”

The car hums beneath you as it continues its journey, and with every second that passes, you feel yourself fading again, drifting away into the darkness.

***

Time slips away, and you don’t know how long you’ve been out when you finally stir. Your eyes flutter open, and the world slowly comes back into focus. The car has stopped, parked somewhere dark and quiet. You can barely move, but you manage to shift slightly, just enough to feel the weight of the leather seat beneath you, the tightness of your clothes against your skin.

There’s a rustle next to you, and then Max is there, leaning over you, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and all that comes out is a faint croak.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Don’t try to talk. You’re still a little out of it.”

Your heart races, and you try to push yourself up, but your limbs are still sluggish, your body refusing to obey.

Max watches you for a moment, then smiles. “Don’t worry,” he says. “This will all make sense soon enough.”

You want to scream, to lash out, to fight, but you can’t. You’re trapped, and Max knows it.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, leaning in close, his breath warm against your skin. “And I’ll make sure you understand that.”

Terror grips you, but there’s nothing you can do. Not yet.

Max sits back, his eyes never leaving you, and for the first time, you realize just how much danger you’re in.

The world outside the car is quiet, the faint rustle of leaves the only sound in the stillness. You’re groggy, trying to push through the fog in your mind as Max’s hands move to unbuckle your seatbelt. His touch is efficient, calculated, not gentle. The door opens with a soft click, and you feel the cool night air wash over your skin.

Max leans down, his face close to yours, eyes sharp and watchful. “I’m going to carry you inside,” he says, almost as if he’s giving you permission to protest. But you can’t. You can barely lift your head. The drug still lingers, turning your limbs to lead.

Without another word, he slides his arms under you, lifting you effortlessly. His grip is secure, possessive, and you can feel the strength in his muscles as he carries you out of the car and toward the looming silhouette of a villa in the distance. It’s massive. Larger than anything you’ve ever seen in real life, with sprawling gardens that stretch into the darkness. The villa itself is lit from within, a soft glow spilling through tall windows. It’s beautiful in a cold, detached way, like a piece of art you can admire but never touch.

As Max carries you up the long driveway, his pace is steady, unhurried. He isn’t worried about anyone seeing him. He’s confident. Why wouldn’t he be? There’s no one around. No one to help.

“Where are you taking me?” You manage to whisper, your voice weak but steady enough to ask the question that’s been burning in your mind.

Max doesn’t stop walking. He doesn’t even look at you. “Home,” he replies simply.

You swallow, the word landing like a stone in your chest. “This isn’t-”

“It will be,” he cuts you off, his voice calm, like he’s already made up his mind about everything. “You’ll see.”

You try to focus, to take in every detail. The way the villa seems to stretch forever, the heavy scent of flowers in the air, the distant hum of the sea. The weight of Max’s arms around you, the way his fingers press into your skin as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

But you’re not slipping anywhere.

He carries you through the grand entrance, past doors that swing open with ease, revealing a marble-floored foyer that’s so pristine, it feels untouched. There’s a quietness to the place, a hollow, echoing silence that sends a chill down your spine.

The sound of Max’s shoes against the marble floor is steady, rhythmic, as he carries you through the house. You catch glimpses of rooms as you pass — an opulent dining room with a crystal chandelier, a sitting room with velvet chairs and enormous windows. But it’s all a blur, your mind struggling to hold on to details as exhaustion pulls at you.

Finally, Max stops in front of a set of tall double doors. He shifts you slightly in his arms, then pushes one of the doors open with his shoulder. The room beyond is lavish, even more opulent than the rest of the villa. The bed is massive, draped in silk and velvet, with heavy curtains framing the windows that stretch from floor to ceiling. The walls are lined with dark wood, polished to a shine, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, casting soft light across the room.

Max walks over to the bed, lowering you gently onto the soft mattress. Your body sinks into the silk sheets, and for a moment, it feels like you’re floating. But the comfort is fleeting, replaced quickly by the suffocating weight of reality.

He stands over you, his eyes scanning your face as if he’s searching for something. “This is where you’ll stay for now,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “Until you understand.”

You blink, struggling to keep your thoughts from spiraling out of control. “Understand what?”

Max’s lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile. “That you belong here. With me.”

You want to argue, to scream, to do anything to break through the haze that’s clouding your mind. But the words catch in your throat, and all you can manage is a shaky breath.

Max moves to the foot of the bed, his hands clasped behind his back as he regards you with that same unnerving calm. “This is the beginning,” he says softly. “The conditioning will start now.”

Your heart lurches. Conditioning. The word feels clinical, detached, like something out of a textbook. But the way Max says it makes it clear that this is no abstract concept. This is real. It’s happening to you.

“What are you talking about?” You whisper, forcing the words past the lump in your throat.

Max steps closer, his gaze steady, almost gentle. “You’re going to learn to associate certain things with me. Pleasure, comfort, safety. And you’ll learn that being without me ... hurts.” He says it so simply, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach twists. “You can’t ... you can’t do this.”

“I already am,” he replies smoothly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “The process is simple. Every time you wake up, you’ll feel better when I’m here. Worse when I’m not. Eventually, it’ll become instinct. You’ll crave my presence. You’ll need me.”

Your breath quickens, panic rising in your chest. “You’re insane.”

Max tilts his head slightly, as though considering your words. “Maybe,” he says, almost casually. “But that doesn’t change anything.”

Before you can respond, there’s a knock at the door. Max doesn’t react, doesn’t even turn to look as the door swings open. A man enters, dressed in a white coat, carrying a small bag in one hand. He’s older, with graying hair and a sharp, clinical air about him. He looks at you briefly, then turns his attention to Max.

“Everything’s prepared,” the man says, his voice clipped and professional.

Max nods. “Good. Let’s begin.”

The man moves to the side of the bed, setting his bag down on the nightstand. You try to push yourself up, but your body still feels sluggish, uncooperative. Fear surges through you as the man opens the bag, pulling out a syringe filled with clear liquid.

“Wait,” you rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Please, don’t do this.”

Max moves closer, his gaze fixed on you. “It’s for your own good,” he says softly. “You’ll understand soon.”

The physician takes your arm, finding a vein with practiced ease. You flinch, but the needle is in before you can even protest. The liquid burns as it enters your bloodstream, a slow, creeping warmth that spreads through your body.

Your vision starts to blur again, the edges of the room fading into darkness. Max’s voice is the last thing you hear before everything goes black.

“You’ll wake up soon,” he says, his voice gentle, almost soothing. “And when you do, I’ll be here. Right where I belong.”

***

The next time you open your eyes, it feels like hours have passed. Maybe days. You’re not sure. The room is the same, the heavy curtains drawn, the chandelier casting its soft glow across the dark wood and silk.

Max is there, sitting in a chair by the bed, watching you. His presence is like a weight in the room, something you can feel even before you fully register it. The sight of him sends a strange warmth through your chest, a flicker of something you don’t want to acknowledge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice low and steady.

You blink, trying to shake off the fog that still clings to your mind. “What ... what did you do?”

Max leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “I told you,” he says softly. “The conditioning has begun.”

You try to sit up, but your body feels weak, drained. The drug — whatever they gave you — is still working its way through your system, dulling your senses. But even through the haze, you can feel it. The strange pull toward Max, the inexplicable comfort that his presence brings. It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

“You can’t-” you start, but your voice falters. The words don’t come as easily as they should.

Max stands, moving to the side of the bed. “I know it’s confusing right now,” he says, his tone almost kind. “But it’ll get easier. The more time we spend together, the more natural it’ll feel. You’ll stop fighting it.”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog. “I’ll never-”

“You will,” Max interrupts, his voice firm but not harsh. “You don’t have a choice.”

He reaches out, brushing a hand over your hair, his touch gentle but possessive. The warmth that spreads through you at the contact is immediate, overwhelming, and you hate it. You hate the way your body responds, the way your mind seems to betray you.

“I’ll leave you for now,” Max says, pulling his hand back. “But don’t worry. I won’t be gone long.”

Your heart races as he steps away, moving toward the door. The thought of him leaving sends a sharp pang through your chest, and you can’t understand why. This is what you want. To be free of him. To be alone.

But as the door closes behind him, the room suddenly feels colder, emptier. The warmth he left behind begins to fade, replaced by an aching void that gnaws at you from the inside.

You close your eyes, trying to fight it, trying to cling to your own thoughts, but the emptiness crashes over you like a tidal wave. It’s immediate — sharp and suffocating, spreading through your body like a cold fog. You close your eyes, trying to focus on anything else, but the ache pulses deep inside you. Your muscles tense as though they’re bracing against a storm, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

The room feels unbearably quiet without him, as though the air has been sucked out, leaving only a hollow silence behind. You hate this. You hate how quickly your body has betrayed you, how quickly the comfort of his presence has taken root inside you.

This is wrong, you tell yourself. It’s the drugs, the conditioning.

But the longer he’s gone, the more unbearable the ache becomes. It’s subtle at first, like a distant pressure, but it grows stronger, clawing at your insides until every nerve feels raw and exposed. Your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as you fight against the pull, but it’s relentless.

Time stretches out. You don’t know how long you’ve been lying there, staring up at the ceiling, but it feels like an eternity. Every second without him feels like a thousand needles pressing into your skin. Your body screams for relief, for the warmth of his presence to soothe the burning ache inside you.

You grit your teeth, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. This isn’t real, you think, but your body doesn’t care. All it knows is that it hurts.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, the door opens.

The relief is instant. The moment Max steps into the room, the ache that’s been gnawing at you recedes, replaced by a wave of warmth that rushes through your veins. You hate it. You hate how quickly the pain fades, how easily your body responds to him, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

Max walks in slowly, his eyes locked on you, taking in every detail of your face as if reading the changes in your expression. You don’t need to speak for him to know what you’re feeling. He can see it. He can see how desperate your body is for the comfort he brings, even though your mind is screaming for it to stop.

“I told you,” Max says softly, moving closer to the bed. “You’ll feel better when I’m here.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. Your throat feels tight, the words trapped inside you, and the worst part is you don’t know if they’d come out as anger or something worse.

Max sits on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch is gentle, careful, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m here to make you feel good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “That’s what I’ll always do. As long as you behave for me.”

You swallow hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. He says it like a promise, like he genuinely believes that he’s helping you.

“I don’t need you,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaking. “I don’t want this.”

Max’s smile is soft, almost pitying. “Your body says otherwise.” His fingers trail down your cheek, brushing against your skin. “You can fight it all you want, but you’ll always feel better when I’m close. That’s the way it’s going to be.”

You try to pull away from his touch, but your body betrays you, craving the warmth and relief that comes with his proximity. The ache that had threatened to consume you moments ago is gone, replaced by a simmering heat that spreads through your limbs, making your skin tingle under his fingertips.

Max watches you closely, his eyes dark and calculating as he gauges your reaction. “See?” He murmurs, his voice soft and coaxing. “You’re already starting to understand.”

“I hate you,” you whisper, but even as you say the words, your body is reacting to him, leaning into his touch despite the protests screaming in your mind.

Max doesn’t flinch at your words. If anything, he seems amused. “Hate me if you want,” he says, his tone light. “But your body knows the truth.”

His hand moves lower, trailing down your arm, sending a ripple of sensation through you that you can’t control. Your breath catches in your throat as the warmth intensifies, and you clench your fists, trying to fight the pull.

Max’s fingers skim the edge of your dress, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches the way your body reacts. “You’ll feel good, I promise,” he whispers. “Better than you’ve ever felt before.”

You shake your head, panic rising in your chest. “No-”

But Max doesn’t stop. His hand slips under the fabric of your dress, his touch deliberate and slow as he hikes it up over your thighs, exposing your skin to the cool air of the room. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and something you don’t want to name thrumming through your veins.

“Shh,” Max soothes, his voice steady. “You’ll learn to trust me. To need me. It’s already happening.”

You try to close your legs, but his hands are firm, guiding you open, controlling the movement of your body as if you’re nothing more than a doll in his hands. A small, broken sound escapes your throat, but he doesn’t stop, his fingers tracing patterns over your skin, making your pulse quicken.

“I told you I’d make you feel good,” he says softly, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You don’t have to fight it.”

Tears prick at your eyes, your chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. You want to scream, to kick, to fight him off, but the weight of your own body holds you down. And worse — the warmth that follows his touch, the heat building in your core, it betrays you. You can’t stop the way your body reacts to him, no matter how much you want to.

Max shifts, his knee pressing against the bed as he leans over you, his hand sliding higher under your dress. His fingers graze the edge of your underwear, and your breath hitches, panic and unwanted anticipation coiling together inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Don’t.”

But Max doesn’t listen. His hand slips beneath the fabric, his fingers brushing against you, and the sensation is overwhelming. You arch against him involuntarily, your body moving without your consent, and the heat inside you builds, the ache that had threatened to consume you earlier morphing into something entirely different.

“You’ll come to love this,” Max says, his tone calm, confident. “In time, you’ll crave it.”

You want to scream that he’s wrong, that you’ll never crave this, but your body doesn’t listen. It reacts to his touch, to the way his fingers move, coaxing a response out of you that you can’t control.

Max’s other hand moves to your hair, brushing it back gently as he leans down, his lips close to your ear. “Let go,” he whispers. “Stop fighting it. I’ll take care of you.”

Your breath is ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as the heat builds inside you, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge, caught between the need to escape and the unbearable sensation that’s pushing you closer to a precipice you don’t want to fall over.

“I’ll always make you feel good,” Max murmurs, his fingers moving faster over your clit, his voice a steady, calming presence in the storm raging inside you. “As long as you’re good for me.”

Your body tenses, the wave crashing over you, pulling you under. You gasp, your back arching off the bed as the sensation overwhelms you, drowning out every thought, every protest, until there’s nothing left but the blinding heat of release.

Max’s hand stills, his touch softening as the aftershocks ripple through you, and he watches, his expression unreadable as you come undone beneath him. You hate it. You hate every second of it. But the worst part is that your body craves it.

Max leans back, his hand trailing away from you, leaving your skin burning in its absence. He stands, adjusting his sleeves as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

“You did well,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender. “I’ll leave you to rest now.”

Your body is limp, your mind spinning as you try to process what’s just happened. The ache is gone, replaced by an empty exhaustion that weighs heavily on your limbs.

Max heads toward the door, pausing only briefly to glance back at you. “Remember,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and intense. “You’ll always feel better when I’m here.”

Then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him.

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, the echo of his touch still lingering on your skin. The room is silent again, but this time the silence isn’t cold. It’s suffocating, pressing down on you like a heavy blanket, and for the first time since you arrived in this place, you realize just how trapped you are.

And worst of all, you know that he’s right.

***

The door opens again.

This time, when you hear it, your body doesn’t flood with fear, or even confusion — it’s anticipation. The ache that had returned in his absence is quickly soothed as Max steps into the room, his presence undeniable, filling the space with a charged energy that you’ve come to crave.

His steps are measured, deliberate, as he crosses the room to you. There’s no hesitation in his movement, no uncertainty. He knows exactly what he’s doing and what you both agreed upon. The room feels smaller when he’s in it, like the walls close in, but in a way that feels safe, protected — like nothing can touch you except him.

Max’s lips curl into a slow, knowing smile as he comes to the side of the bed, his eyes locking onto yours. He says nothing at first, letting the moment linger between you, thick and heavy. You’re not sure if you should speak or wait for him to break the silence.

He doesn’t make you wait long.

“Good girl,” he murmurs softly, his voice like velvet as he leans down, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “You were perfect.”

There’s a flutter of warmth in your chest at the praise, something that makes you feel both proud and vulnerable all at once. You blink up at him, your body still exhausted from what just happened, but there’s something comforting about the way he’s looking at you now. The way his hand reaches out to caress your cheek, tender and affectionate, as if to erase any remnants of the harshness from before.

“I wasn’t sure if you could handle it,” Max continues, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with an intimacy that feels far more personal than anything he’s done before. “But you did. You always do, don’t you?”

You nod, your throat tight, the words caught somewhere between your mind and your mouth. You can’t quite shake the feeling of how intense everything was, how quickly it all escalated. But now, with him here, touching you like this, the pieces of the scene start to fall away, revealing what lies underneath.

Max watches you, waiting for your response, but he’s patient. He always is, especially after something like this. He knows you need time to come back down, to find your footing after the role you’ve both played.

“Was it … okay?” You manage to ask, your voice still soft and hesitant. There’s a vulnerability in your tone, a need for reassurance, even though you know how he feels.

Max’s eyes soften, and he leans down to kiss you — soft, slow, and deliberate. His lips linger against yours, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss. It’s a different kind of intensity now, one that speaks to the connection you both share. When he finally pulls back, there’s a hint of amusement in his gaze.

“More than okay,” he whispers. “You were incredible.”

The tension that had been coiled inside you loosens at his words, and you feel yourself relax against the pillows. Max’s praise always has this effect on you, like it fills in the cracks and makes everything feel right again.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he studies your face. “Every second of it was perfect because it was with you.”

The weight of those words settles into your chest, grounding you in the reality of what you both share. It’s all an act — a scene you agreed upon. Max has always been careful, always made sure you were okay with everything. That’s how it works between you two. The intensity, the control, the power dynamic — it’s all part of the game, part of what you’ve both built together. But underneath it all is the love, the trust that binds you to him.

He presses another kiss to your lips, softer this time, a gesture of affection rather than dominance. When he pulls away, there’s a lightness in his expression, a warmth that makes the remnants of the scene melt away completely.

“I have something for you,” he says, standing up and walking toward the door. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

You watch as he exits the room, the anticipation building again, though this time it’s mixed with curiosity. Moments later, Max returns, pushing a small cart laden with trays of food. The smell hits you first — rich, savory, and mouthwatering. Your stomach growls in response, reminding you that you haven’t eaten in what feels like forever.

Max notices, and the corner of his mouth lifts into a satisfied smile. “I thought you might be hungry.”

You sit up slightly, propping yourself on your elbows as Max wheels the cart over to the side of the bed. He lifts the lids from the trays, revealing an array of delicacies — perfectly grilled meats, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit, and decadent desserts. It’s more than just a meal, it’s a feast.

“Let me,” Max says, reaching for a fork. He cuts a small piece of steak and holds it out to you, his eyes watching your every movement, waiting for you to take the first bite.

You hesitate for only a moment before leaning forward, letting him feed you. The flavors burst across your tongue, rich and savory, and you can’t help the small sound of appreciation that escapes your lips.

Max’s smile widens. “Good?”

You nod, swallowing before responding. “It’s amazing.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and there’s that familiar warmth in his voice again, the praise sinking into your skin like sunlight. He cuts another piece of food, feeding it to you before leaning in to kiss you between bites.

Each kiss is soft, slow, and filled with an affection that feels worlds away from the intensity of earlier. You sink into the moment, into the comfort of his presence, letting yourself be taken care of.

“You were so perfect for me,” Max whispers between kisses, his lips brushing against your cheek. “I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

You smile softly, feeling the tension of the day melt away as you let him feed you, let him take care of you. There’s something intimate about the act, something grounding. It’s not just about the food — it’s about the connection, the way he looks at you with such devotion in his eyes.

Max takes his time, savoring the moment as much as you are. He alternates between feeding you and stealing kisses, each one a little longer, a little deeper than the last. His hands are gentle as they move over your skin, brushing your hair back, cupping your face, his touch always lingering just a little longer than necessary.

“You have no idea how proud I am of you,” he murmurs against your lips. “The way you trust me, the way you let go. It’s everything I could ever want.”

You close your eyes, leaning into him, the warmth of his words settling deep inside you. It’s always like this after a scene — the tenderness, the closeness. Max knows how to bring you back, how to make you feel safe and loved after everything.

“I couldn’t do it without you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression softening even more. “We do this together. That’s what makes it so special.”

There’s a weight to his words, a promise that echoes in the quiet of the room. You nod, knowing it’s true. You wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him — not the scenes, not the intensity, not the way you let yourself go completely when you’re with him.

Max leans in again, kissing you deeply this time, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. When he finally pulls away, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but it’s not the same hunger from earlier. This one is softer, more intimate, and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“I love you,” he says again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you too,” you reply, the words coming easily, naturally, because they’re the truest thing you know.

Max smiles, a slow, satisfied smile that makes your stomach flip. He reaches for one of the desserts on the tray — a small piece of chocolate cake — and holds it out to you. You take a bite, and before you can even swallow, Max is kissing you again, his lips tasting of chocolate and sweetness.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lips, and you can’t help but smile into the kiss.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of kisses and laughter, the food slowly disappearing from the trays as Max continues to feed you, praising you with every bite and every kiss. The intensity of earlier is long gone, replaced by something deeper, something that feels like home.

And as you lie there in his arms, sated and content, you know that no matter what happens, no matter how intense the scenes get, you’ll always have this — this quiet, tender intimacy that belongs to just the two of you.

1K notes View Post

blackswanmary

4 weeks ago

Resident Evil Men: First Kiss

First kiss blurbs/hcs with Albert, Carlos, Chris, Ethan, and Leon. Willing to do a second part with other characters if anyone is interested.

Albert Wesker

It's late, way past the time when anyone should be in the office. You're stuck manning the front desk at the station. The few officers on duty are either out on their patrol or asleep in the bunks. There usually aren't more than a handful of people on duty, but the attacks are making everyone a bit more nervous. You needed the overtime hours, so your name was first on the volunteer sheet.

"Do you know how easy it would be for one of those cannibals to sneak up on you?" Albert joked as he placed his hands over your eyes. You jumped a bit in your seat, but he held you firmly in place. The STARS Alpha captain had been teasing you pretty badly these past few nights, but you were starting to like it.

"Good thing you're here to protect me, isn't it? You wouldn't let anything happen to sweet, little old me, would you?" You batted your eyelashes at him, noticing the way he shifted slightly. Albert was leaning over your chair still, making it so easy for you to just reach up for him. He made it even easier when he leaned down to meet your touch, and even further towards your lips. The kiss was fairly quick, both of you well aware that the patrol would be back any minute.

"I'll keep you safe from those cannibals. It'd be criminal not to."

Carlos Oliveira

"Watch out!" You acted before you really knew what was happening, jumping to tackle Carlos to the ground as the rocket whizzed over your bodies. Both of you watched as it hit the building behind you, and Carlos cradled your head to his protectively as bits were blown all around.

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked as he moved his arms away from you. Your heart was racing in your chest as your brain tried to process everything that had happened. That had nearly been Carlos blown to bits, and then he had protected you from the debris. It was a miracle that either of you were still breathing, yet alone both of you.

"I-I think so," you stammered out. Carlos cradled your face in his hands as he looked for any obvious signs of a concussion. Your eyes followed his, watching as he lingered on your lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else. "That, um, that was something."

"I don't know what I'd do without you, and I don't just mean as a team member," Carlos said. You rested your head against his chest, unsure of what to do. His arms felt safe, and he seemed to want you there. The two of you stayed for a few moments longer, allowing yourself to naturally gravitate towards a more intimate hold. You weren't sure who kissed who, but you'll never forget the feeling of Carlos's lips pressed against yours or the way his hands gripped your hips.

Chris Redfield

"(Y/n)," Chris sighed. Things had been going well between the two of you, but then he blew you off. Rushing off with a kiss on the forehead and a half-assed apology was ruining things. "Look at me, please."

"What do you want? Isn't there a crisis that only Chris Redfield can solve?" There was nothing more than venom in your words, and Chris knew that was somewhat deserved.

"I like you a lot, and I'm sorry for not being as available as I should be, but I've got some time off and I'd like to spend it with you. You're a good woman, and I'll do anything to prove how badly I want you."

"One night, give me one night of your undivided attention, and we'll see how things go after that," you told him. Chris looked visibly relieved by your terms, and before he could really think about it, he was moving in to kiss you. Surprisingly to him, you kissed back, glad to finally get a real kiss out of him.

Ethan Winters

Ethan held onto your hand as the two of you walked through the park. Your first date had been going well. Dinner and a movie was always a good choice, even if the two of you didn't want the night to end. Ethan couldn't wait for a second date and the ones after it. He hadn't felt like this in a long time, and it was nice to be with someone who didn't know what he had been through.

"(Y/n), can I kiss you?" Ethan asked. He had stopped pretty abruptly a few feet away from the parking lot where your cars were. You looked around, slightly nervous about the idea of someone else watching your first kiss with a new guy.

"I'd like that," you said as Ethan's hands cupped your jaw. He leans in slowly and kisses you so gently that you think he's convinced you'll break or fade away. It's nice to be treated with such care, and you know that Ethan's going to love you like no other man has.

Leon Kennedy

Leon has no idea what he's doing here. Something about an obligation to work friends. There's booze which is sort of all he cares about, and the pretty woman grinding against him isn't too bad. He couldn't remember the last time he had let loose in this way. There was no harm in spending the night with a stranger, so Leon takes it upon himself to turn you around.

You continued dancing on him, and Leon was more than happy to let him. Things don't seem to slow down at all even as the music did. The two of you got pretty caught up in yourselves and the moment. Your lips were trailing along his neck, dangerously close to leaving a mark until he finally leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss.

"I'm Leon!" he shouted over the music.

"(Y/n)!"

213 notes View Post

blackswanmary

6 months ago

𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 - 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳 𝐣𝐫

pairing - carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

warnings - none :)

author’s note - i started this like three months ago and completely forgot about it oops. but since it’s his birthday, i finally got some motivation to finish it :)

and ty to my girls anj and cece for some help on a few of the letters <3

a = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

i don’t think he’d be super affectionate in public. but when you’re at home and have some privacy, carlos is very affectionate.

b = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

you’d be best friends before you started dating. and carlos would be the best bff ever!!

very chill and would just wanna hang out with you all the time. lots of movie nights where inside jokes are created, and so much alcohol and gossiping for sure.

c = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

loveeees them. he especially loves laying his head on your lap while you run your fingers through his hair.

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

for sure wants to settle down with you. at the right time though, he’s not going to rush it.

he loves to cook for you. he definitely prefers eating in rather than going out. he’ll surprise you with new recipes all the time. and he seems like he’s very organized and clean so he always keeps your place tidy.

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, why would they do it?)

his family is really important to him so if they don’t like you, this could be something that causes him to break up with you.

and also with his job, distance would also be a big reason why he’d end things.

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

big yes to commitment. like i said before, he’s not rushing anything and would wait til the right time. he’d want to focus on his career first.

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

he’s very gentle with you both emotionally and physically. emotionally, he’s just so soft with you all the time. and physically, there’s gonna be lots of gentle touches, soft kisses, and holding your hand for sure.

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

loves them. especially hugs from behind!! he’ll just come up to you, wrap his arms around you then rest his head on your shoulder. his hugs are literally the biggest bear hugs. and he hugs you all the time too!!

i = i love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)

he would be the one who says it first. he’d wait until the right time and when he knows that’s how he really feels about you.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

whenever he gets jealous from seeing a guy at the club flirting with you, he wouldn’t speak up.

no, he’d rather show him that you’re not available. he’d just come up to you, wrap his arm around your waist before pulling you in for a heated kiss.

and every time, when you break away from the kiss, he just has a huge smirk on his face when he sees that the guy had left.

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

his lips were made for kissing. and his kisses are the best. he loves kissing you everywhere. and he really likes using his kisses to tease you too.

his favorite place to receive kisses from you is always his lips. he loves the way you lightly bite down on them and tug his lip back a little when you pull away.

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

he’s great with kids and kids love him.

i could see him wanting a big family too, maybe 3 or 4 kids.

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

lazy mornings during a no race weekend are his favorites. he gets to sleep in and wake up to his favorite person in the entire world.

he would always wake up before you though. most days he’ll just cuddle with you until you wake up. but some days he’ll get out of bed and go make some breakfast to surprise you with in bed.

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

just as cuddly as your mornings are. seriously, this man loves cuddling with you. lots of cuddles and soft kisses on the couch while a movie plays as background noise.

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he wouldn’t start opening up about any deep things until later on in the relationship. and he would start telling you these things slowly, not wanting to scare you off by dumping everything on you at once.

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

he’s sooo patient and it’d take a lot to really get him angry. it’d have to be something super serious to get him that angry.

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

maybe not every little detail but he remembers the important things like your anniversary, birthday, and some of your favorite things.

r = remember (what is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

if you asked him to choose just one favorite memory from your relationship, he wouldn’t be able to. he cherishes each and every second that you’ve shared together.

but if he really had to choose, it’d be the day you first met. you had met at the dog park when his dog ran over and nearly tackled you onto the ground.

carlos apologized for piñon’s behavior and helped you back up before he tried to get going again. but piñon was sat right by your feet and he wouldn’t leave.

so while his dog was being stubborn for whatever reason, carlos began talking to you. the two of you got so into your conversation that neither of you even realized that piñon had run off to go play again.

he ended up asking you out on a date after that conversation. and the two of you always talked about how piñon was what brought you together.

s = security (how protective are they? How would they protect you?)

he’s protective of you but not in a crazy way or anything. he knows that you’re capable of taking care of yourself.

if you’re at a party or a club, he’ll keep you by his side with his arm around your waist or your hand in his the entire night.

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts sooo much effort into planning all your dates. carlos would like having more lowkey dates with you but he always makes sure that they’re the best date you’ve ever gone on.

and he loves spoiling you too. he always gets you little gifts that remind him of you. most of the time they’re not even crazy expensive gifts either. just random things he saw in a shop that instantly made him think of you.

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

a big bad habit of his would be that he hides his feelings from you sometimes. he could be angry with you but he wouldn’t talk to you about how he’s feeling.

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

he’s not very concerned with how he looks. he doesn’t mind the sloppy look and honestly, he pulls it off really well.

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

of course!! he’s not clingy and needs to have you by his side at all times or anything like that but he definitely feels a bit incomplete when you’re not together.

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

cooking for you is something that carlos loves to do. he would learn all your favorite recipes and even find new ones for the two of you to try.

and he especially loves cooking together. most of the time he ends up taking over everything though.

and almost every time, it’d end with a little food fight. if you’re cooking something with flour, he’d always swipe a little bit onto your cheek which leads to you throwing some on his hair. and before long, the two of you are chasing each other around the kitchen, covered in flour.

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

he wouldn’t like someone who’s not a family person. his family is really important to him so he’d want to be with someone who felt the same way.

z = zzz (what is a sleep habits of theirs?)

he always needs to be holding you in his arms when he’s asleep. and when he needs to turn onto his other side? he’ll just pick you up and turn around with you.

he also seems like he would fall asleep in the weirdest positions. ones that don’t look comfortable at all and have you wondering how the hell he’s able to sleep like that.

428 notes View Post

blackswanmary

2 months ago

WE LISTEN AND WE DON’T JUDGE.

pairing. Pedro Pascal x younger! fem! reader

synopsis. you and Pedro do the we listen and we don’t judge trend.

warnings. mention of age gap (late 20s/late 40s), short fic.

babs’ notes. guys ik this trend isn’t trend anymore but i just had to write it

EVEN THOUGH YOU DIDN’T WANT TO ADMIT IT, you were a chronically online person. You weren’t particularly proud of it, but the constant stream of trends on TikTok was enough to keep you entertained for hours.

You loved to post mini vlogs and grwms videos on TikTok. It was fun to do, and the bonus money it brought in was a welcome perk. The creative process of filming, editing, and sharing snippets of your life with the world brought you a sense of joy and fulfillment.

On the other hand, Pedro was content with simply posting stories on Instagram. Being an older man, his Instagram was a bit chaotic, yet endearingly so. He mostly posted pictures with you, capturing beautiful moments and showcasing your love and adventures together.

So when you saw the TikTok trend We Listen and We Don’t Judge, where partners share little, harmless secrets, you just knew you had to do it with Pedro.

To your surprise, it didn’t take much to convince him; he was always up for these kinds of fun. What took longer was explaining the trend to him, but somehow, you managed to get through it.

You pressed record, and both of you said in unison, “We Listen and we don’t judge.” You couldn't help but notice Pedro's adorable expression on the phone screen; he looked so happy to be there.

“Okay, I’ll start,” you said, turning to look at your boyfriend. You took a moment to think of what to say first. “I can hear you when you’re singing in the shower, and it sounds terrible,” you said, trying hard to hold back your laughter.

Pedro narrowed his eyes at you, a mix of mock indignation and amusement crossing his face. Deep down, he knew there was a bit of truth in your words. “We listen and we don’t judge,” you both repeated in sync, and now it was his turn.

Pedro took a deep breath and grinned. “When we first met, I thought you are a bit of brat,” he admitted.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. You hadn’t expected him to be that blunt. But, as the trend dictated, you couldn’t judge. You managed to keep your expression neutral, despite your surprise.

Pedro chuckled, noticing your reaction. “I know, it sounds horrible, but that’s what I thought at first,” he said, his tone softer.

You ignored him with an eye roll, “We listen and we don’t judge.”

“Sometimes you get me so upset when you forget something,” you confessed, scanning his expression on the phone screen. “But I always remind myself you’re just an old man,” you chuckled, looking at him.

Pedro took this secret well and just shrugged. “That was obvious, I am an old man,” he said with a smile.

“We listen and we don’t judge,”

Pedro's eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned in closer to the camera. “Your Spanish is bad... like really bad,” he said with a smile, clearly enjoying the playful banter. It really sounded like he came just for the hate, but you smiled, ready to dish it back.

“Well, your French isn’t good either,” you retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“We listen and we don’t judge,”

“I hate when you fart and blame it on me,” you said, the words barely escaping your mouth before you both burst into laughter. Pedro's eyes widened in shock, his laughter bubbling up uncontrollably.

“Jesus Christ Y/n, you can’t say shit like that to people,” Pedro exclaimed with laugh, trying to calm himself down. He had expected many things, but not this.

Your laughter was infectious, and Pedro couldn't help but join in, his body shaking with mirth. “Well, it's true!” you said, still giggling. “You do it all the time.”

Pedro wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling. “Alright, alright. But we listen and we don’t judge, remember?”

You both repeated, “We listen and we don’t judge,” in unison, still grinning from ear to ear.

"When I was filming Gladiator, some lady asked me if you're my daughter," Pedro chuckled, referring to your age difference. The memory seemed to amuse him greatly, and the twinkle in his eyes made it clear he found the situation hilarious.

You gave him a knowing stare. "We listen and we don't judge," you said, the words almost automatic now.

"I love when you wear glasses, it turns me on so bad," you said with a smirk, your voice dropping a notch. It was a bold confession, one that you knew would get a rise out of him. You couldn't help but think about your PR manager, already dreading the phone call you'd probably get after posting this video.

Pedro's smirk matched yours, his eyes filled with a mix of confidence and affection. "Knew that," he said confidently, his gaze locking with yours. His playful tone, combined with the way he looked at you, sent a shiver down your spine.

Of course, you did have to cut out some parts because Pedro could be a dirty bastard and truly had no filter. His unfiltered remarks were hilarious but perhaps a bit too much for the fans and especially your PR managers.

655 notes View Post

blackswanmary

1 month ago

hii!! I saw you write for homicipher so i was wondering if you could write some dark/yandere sfw & nsfw headcanons for mr scarletella 🥹 thank you so much & take ur time!!

MR. SCARLETELLA HC {N/SFW}

a Mr. Scarletella {homicipher} x reader n/sfw hc list.

{thank you for your support and nice words! :3}

Hii!! I Saw You Write For Homicipher So I Was Wondering If You Could Write Some Dark/yandere Sfw & Nsfw

warnings! : stalking, non-con, dub-con, hardcore, marking, slight gore, rough sex, violence, rough fingering, biting, cunnilingus, blowjobs, smut, murder mention, somno

{an : i didnt quite get what you meant when you said "dark" so hopefully this is what you meant. this is really hardcore. to the soft hearted people and people who cant handle ACTUAL freaky stuff, i wouldnt recommend reading this. there is a small section underneath the regular nsfw hc with a cw on it, so if you cant handle certain topics, there is still an nsfw section without it. he is my favorite character from homicipher ommggg hes so hot. id give him my name HAPPILY.}

SFW HC

sfw relationship/meeting him hcs

when you first meet him alone, he is very unexpected. his presence and constant facial expression is unnerving to say the least, but as long as you can manage that you will be fine.

if you end up "accepting" him, the relationship would be very weird.

he would be a wonderful partner despite the obvious other reasons, but dont think he wont be watching you constantly.

he will bring you daily gifts, consisting of anything he can find that he thinks you will like.

as for touch, he will let you touch him. usually he wouldnt let anyone even accidentally touch him, as he would teleport away, but one you are in a relationship with him, most boundaries he had before are gone.

he is rather fond of holding you. whether that be in his coat {for some reason} or just in general.

in Japanese culture {from my research, i am NOT Japanese!!} holding an umbrella with someone is a sign of love and acceptance. therefore he always likes you to hold it with him.

he isnt one of those "down-lo" kind of people. he makes it known everywhere that you are his.

he will do whatever it takes to please you. you are literally his princess/prince. even if that includes killing someone {he does it anyways}

if he catches anyone staring at you, or even remotely close to you, he will either teleport you away {if you are friends with the person} or kill them on the spot.

no matter how much he seems to be emotionless, anything involving you in pain or discomfort, it will flip a switch in him.

he has to be near you always. whether you know it or not, he will be there.

he hasnt quite grasped the concept of kissing or "romantic" things, but whatever you do he goes along with it. he rather enjoys hand holding or pressing his face into your neck.

he is the delulu type {this whole fandom knows it} and anything you do he will take as flirting. dont deny it though, hes too obsessed to care

he has a big thing for the height difference. he is a little over 8 feet tall, and feels a need to protect you at any cost.

any cost.

NSFW HC

what its like to have sex with him.

starting off, this man is a BEAST during sex.

he is a quick learner, and whether he is using his hands, mouth, or any part of his body, he will find those spots that makes you squirm.

one of his favorite things is you riding his thigh in public. say he was talking with Mr. Silvair, and happened to be sitting down. he would want you on his thigh "discreetly" getting off. bonus points if you cum.

he wouldnt be opposed to a threesome, but he has to trust the other person. a rare occasion.

anything you want to do, he will immediately comply. need him to go down on you? hes on his knees. even in public. need his fingers inside of you? absolutely. need his dick? against the wall you go.

he has a big dick, and luckily he knows it. he wont force everything inside at first, but eventually he will. you can take it. he thinks

he loves your body, and he makes sure you know it. even in his strange language, you can understand the things he is saying because he is touching you while he is doing it.

he makes little to no noise during sex, but not because he isnt enjoying it. he LOVES sex with you, but he prefers to listen to your noises. he would have it on repeat if he could.

you could look like anything and he would still find you to be the most attractive person on earth {or his earth, whatever}

for afab, he isnt one of those guys who has a hard time finding your clit. in fact, he doesnt even have to look. immediately his fingers will be circling that little nub that he loves so much.

he is a very dominating person, but it probably wouldnt be hard for him to let you dominate him. i say let because in no situation do you actually have control.

his fingering sessions are borderline violent, the pads of his fingers hitting that perfect spot with every curl.

cw! its about to get very dark and possibly triggering! viewer discretion is advised!

if you are one of those people who get off on your man killing for you, then he is the man. he will torture people in front of you as you touch yourself.

his sex isnt even borderline violent, it IS violent. if hes angry especially, he doesnt care if he hurts you.

afab, he will bruise your cervix and make you bleed. his tip hits so hard with his brutal thrusts that you will.

on certain occasions, {tw!!!} he will force himself on you. while it is rare, r...pe can happen, so be careful and dont piss him off.

he doesnt need sleep, so if hes horny enough then he will fuck you while you're sleeping. if you explicitly ask him not to, then he will just jerk himself off over your sleeping form.

dont expect to walk away from a rough fucking WITHOUT marks all over you. he makes it a mission to bite, claw, tear, any part he can. he wants you covered in blood, it gets him off faster.

will probably brand you with something

if you have a trauma kink he WILL use it to his advantage.

thats all bye bye!!! :3

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

1K notes View Post

blackswanmary

1 month ago

Hiii idk if ur still taking request but if so could u write more Yandere Jake and neytiri plsss

Okay, I’ll write some headcannons for how would Yandere Jake and Neytiri (separately and in a poly) react to the RDA taking you with them.

Not proofread yet

Yandere Jake Sully

Hiii Idk If Ur Still Taking Request But If So Could U Write More Yandere Jake And Neytiri Plsss

He has been human before and he knows how that place works.

He will plan a way to save you right away.

Until that day he is destroying everything that comes into his path, no one can relax him.

Is like he is having a panic attack but instead of loosing his breath he is murdering, hurting, throwing things and every destructive idea you can get.

He is a nerve reck.

Once the day of the attack and rescue has come, he will kill mercilessly everything in his way. He will cause as much pain and trouble as he can. They must feel what he has felt this days.

Once he gets to you his whole body feels weightless. He hugs you tightly and whispers sweet nothings in your ear while continuously killing.

He cries, but I can’t tell you if it is his manipulative yandere side and he is acting to guilt trip you into being near him all the time. Or if he was so scared of loosing his darling that he was actually crying. Either way, he cried.

Yandere Neytiri

The moment she knows that you have been trapped she goes feral.

She won’t stop until she finds you. She will kill and destroy everything and everyone in her path.

She will go alone, maybe followers by those who have seen it happen, but she won’t wait for anyone.

She will rescue you, leaving a trail of dead people behind.

She will hiss at you and she will scream at you for not being careful and scaring her to death. Then she will hug you and let you know how scared she was of loosing you.

Poly!Yandere Jake Sully and Neytiri

Jake seems calmer than her, even though he is also scared to death. He will tell her they need a plan before acting. She will be hissing at him.

They might argue about it, and not “discuss” but argue. Like, the whole Pandora knows they are arguing.

Once they have a plan, which was difficulty settled, they’ll go for you. They do not hesitate in killing for their darling’s safety.

Jake will be the first to get to you, protecting your body with his. He can’t help but purr at the feeling of your body once again in his arms.

Neytiri will also hug you, pulling Jake aside. Even in your poly relationship, when you are in danger they get full yandere mode and forget that they are also each other’s darlings.

624 notes View Post

blackswanmary

4 months ago