#And Maxwell becomes baby in my mind

[inblackwoods]

I got into this series starting with Together and decided recently to go back and do the adventure mode of the first game. That was difficult. King of Winter led to me making Wilson stand inside a ring of evil flowers holding the divining rod in the middle of the night, waiting to get low enough sanity to get by the obelisks (no green mushrooms in sight). Thought it was Dramatic and Pretty. 

[thecoleopterawithana]

Suicide

If when she tries to run away / And he calls her back, she comes / If there's a next time, he's okay / Cause she's under both his thumbs She'll limp along to his side / Singing a song of ruin, I'd / Bet he says nothin' doin' / I'd, I'd call it suicide

This is likely one of the first songs Paul ever wrote. It predates Rock 'n Roll washing up onto the Mersey shores and the tingles that started going up and down Paul's spine. Not yet acquainted with his "confidante", Paul's earliest compositions were done instead on his home piano.

This particular tune seems to have come about around Paul's fourteenth birthday, in mid-1956. It is not known how this song sounded at its genesis: did it already have the lyrics, or was it like the contemporaneous "When I'm Sixty-Four", for which he originally had only the tune?

We hear "Suicide" for the first time in the Get Back sessions, with complete lyrics and John joining in right from the first verse. From Paul's comments on the song, it does seem like he had the lyrics in mind from the get-go:

That was a song I’d had forever, since I was about 16. I had my Dad’s old piano at home, that I used to tinker about on when there was no-one in the house. And my feelings were, then, that if you were ever going to be a songwriter, the height of it all was Sinatra. That would be the greatest stuff that you could do, really a little bit before rock ‘n’ roll, so you were thinking of standards and things. So around that time I wrote “When I’m 64” and this other thing. I thought it would be a bit of a Rat Pack, smoochy, with words like “When she tries to, run away, uh-huh…” Boom! And stabs from the band, you know.

— Paul McCartney, in the McCartney - Archive Collection (2011) liner notes.

I'm curious about the timing because, in usual McCartney fashion, we have quite dark lyrics being camouflaged by a jaunty little tune (à la "Maxwell Silver Hammer", "Another Day", etc.) And they are made even darker if they were written by a fourteen-year-old boy.

When I first heard of this song, I assumed, based on the title, that it'd been written after Mary's death. So I was quite surprised when I saw its origin dated to potentially even earlier than that (although I don't really know what information these estimations are based on).

Regardless of the exact date of origin, this song had been on my mind since I heard it brought up in @anotherkindofmindpod's Fine Tuning: Ep 2 Shoulder to Shoulder. Together with Ep 4 Shells & Barriers and the wonderful analyses that emerged from it, I've been wondering about what influenced teenage Paul to write a song about a woman trying (and failing) to escape an abusive marriage. From @bidisasterhawkeye's contribution to the aforementioned post:

For those unaware, Paul's mother had a quite tragic background. The second of four children, her younger sister Agnes died at age two (cause unknown) when Mary was around eight years old. When Mary was ten, her mother died giving birth to another baby girl (who also died). At that point, Mary's older brother left their home in Liverpool to join the army and Mary's father took Mary and her toddler brother, Bill, back to his home country of Ireland. In Ireland, they apparently lived in extreme poverty as Mary's father tried and failed to become a farmer. Ten year old Mary was apparently not enrolled in school there because she was given the role of homemaker and mother to her baby brother. When Mary was around 13, her father went to Liverpool and acquired a second wife with children of her own, and this new stepmother was apparently "cruel" enough that Mary ran away at age 14 (as did Bill later).

I might have seen it mentioned somewhere around here recently (please let me know if you know where!), but it's curious that Paul wrote about women running away in "Suicide" and "She's Leaving Home", when his own teenage mother went through the same. The latter song seems to apply better to Mary's situation at fourteen. Whose story is Paul telling in "Suicide"?

Maybe it's not that deep, and "Suicide" is indeed only a joke song. Paul certainly seems to want us to believe that:

It was a real early song of mine, and I used to do it as a joke, really. […] So I never did anything with it but around the time of McCartney, I was just goofing around on piano and at the end of one of the takes there was a little bit of tape left, so I just did it and didn’t think to use it because it was Rat Pack, tongue in cheek. But I used that little fragment at the end of one of the tracks, ‘Glasses’.

Haha, good ol' Paul, goofing around with a meaningless little tune called "Suicide" right around the same time stuff like this was happening:

I was going through a bad time, what I suspect was almost a nervous breakdown. I remember lying awake at night shaking, which has not happened to me since. One night I'd been asleep and awoke and I couldn't lift my head off the pillow. My head was down in the pillow, I thought, Jesus, if I don't do this I'll suffocate. I remember hardly having the energy to pull myself up, but with a great struggle I pulled my head up and lay on my back and thought, That was a bit near! I just couldn't do anything. I had so much in me that I couldn't express and it was just very nervy times, very very difficult.

— Paul McCartney, in Barry Miles' Many Years From Now (1997).

I'll leave further ruminations on the emotional implications of "Suicide" to your discretion. Or we can take a page out of Lewisohn's book and simply conclude:

But though the words wanted work (and didn’t get it), ["Suicide"] was a charming little tune, a dance-band piece with a dash of modernity, light, engaging and original … quite exceptional for a first attempt by a boy on the cusp of 14.

[daddy-dins-girl]

Kindred - Chapter One

Kindred.

So I rewatched WW84 two nights ago and the next day I had 5k of Max Lord fic written (idk what happened). But anyway, lmk if you want to see a part 2!

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Chapter 2

Summary: You’ve nannied for your share of families including a lot of workaholic parents but never have you met anyone that runs themselves as ragged as Maxwell Lord seems to.

Tonight a thought occurs to you that maybe Mr. Lord just needs to let go, for one night. And maybe you could give that to him.

Maxwell Lord x f!Reader (Nanny)

Word Count: 4.8k

Notes: Takes place a couple years before the events of WW84. Reader has no defined age so it can be whatever you want. I'm not sure how old Alistair is supposed to be in 84, but in this fic he's about 6ish (so no baby talk or screaming toddlers here folks!).

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Smut. Oral sex. Explicit language. Light dom/sub. Light bondage (Max's neck tie comes in handy). Max's hair is it's own warning.

...

“Hi Mr. Lord” you smile sweetly at your boss as the front door swings open to allow you inside. You’re met, as per usual, by the sight of your employer looking - in a word - exasperated. He sighs when he sees you; in relief you assume, and runs a hand through his golden chestnut locks that constantly fall across his forehead. He’s dressed smartly in a blue pin striped suit with a stark white shirt and navy tie with a gold paisley pattern which hangs loose and slightly askew around his neck. You assume he’s been tugging at it, something you noticed he does when he gets overly stressed which, granted, is pretty often. 

You’ve nannied for your share of families including a lot of workaholic parents but never have you met anyone that runs themselves as ragged as Maxwell Lord seems to. You know why he does it; that he’s trying to build an empire, something to leave to his son (with whom he splits custody of with his ex-wife) and to be able to provide everything for his son that he never had. But spending so much time with his son Alistair, you see the other side of it as well and sympathize. All Alistair wants is for his father to actually get home in time to read him a bedtime story, or go to the park for a game of catch, or show up at school for Career Day like everyone else’s parents. 

“Thank you for coming so quickly” Maxwell finally breathes as both his hands reach out and grab yours, gently pulling you inside. “My ex-wife had a family emergency with her mother and needed to go out of town and had to drop Alistair off. I know this is normally your week off, I appreciate you coming”

“Of course, Mr. Lord, it’s no trouble, really” you assure him. Truly you didn’t mind, you could always use the extra money. You liked the schedule with the Lord’s. Two weeks on, two weeks off. In your off time from nannying you peddled beauty products and rented a chair at a local hair salon near your apartment. Giving haircuts to suburban housewives was a great way to boost your side business of selling cosmetics and skin care products. You had clients at the salon who would often hire you to come to small lunches they would host for their girlfriends where you could give a small presentation of the products you sold and it was an easy way for you to make money and add to your growing client list. Mr. Lord had even surprised you by becoming a client. He had come home one night to you filling out orders in a receipt book at the kitchen table, a few skin care products strewn about the table as you readied to package them up and he was instantly curious as to what you were selling. You were embarrassed at first, for technically working for your other job while on the clock for him but he instantly waved you off. Alistair had already been asleep for hours and he assured you that not only did he not mind, but he was impressed by your work ethic. He handled a few of the products, carefully reading the small print on the bottles and you noted his curiosity before pulling out the catalog from your purse and suggesting a few items for him to try.

“Makes you glow like a teenager” You had smiled at him as you explained one of the serums to him and he had his checkbook out within minutes, placing his first order.

You would have to rearrange a few of the haircuts you had scheduled for this week but most of your clients were housewives with flexible enough schedules that you were confident you could rearrange them to times where Alistair would be in school, so you weren’t worried about it. And your cosmetic business was mostly a work from home endeavor anyway, aside from the few weekly home deliveries you made which could also be done during school hours. During your “on weeks” at the Lord’s you lived there. It was just easier due to Maxwell’s ever changing and highly busy schedule. He was out of the house at the early morning hours and typically didn’t return until long after the sun was set. Even most weekends he was in and out of the office, trying to be home whenever he could but with his business still being in the early stages of growth, it was a necessary evil.

You were more than just a babysitter for Alistair. You cooked and cleaned and did whatever you could to make Maxwell’s life easier. In the beginning he tried to insist you didn’t need to do as much as you did, that he knew he didn’t pay you enough for all the work you put in, but you quickly brushed him off, ensuring him that not only were you happy to do it, but it gave you something to do when Alistair was asleep or otherwise occupied. He eventually stopped trying, knowing you’d do it regardless, and every few months (presumably when he’d had a good month at work and could afford it) you’d notice a couple of extra bills in the envelope of cash he’d hand you at the beginning of your work week. It wasn’t much, but you appreciated that he appreciated you. At the end of the day you were both just trying to hustle your way through life; Maxwell was just a more successful version of yourself, in a way. You were kindred spirits, it’s probably why you got along as well as you did.

The fact that you found your boss to be devastatingly handsome didn’t hurt either, you supposed.

“Who is it Daddy?” You heard Alistair's excited voice call out as hurried footsteps came barreling towards the front entryway. He slid to a stop in his socked feet and hands instinctively wrapped around his father’s leg as he peered up at you with the same large chestnut coloured eyes as his fathers.

“It’s our Angel, come to save the day again buddy” Max smiled down at his son, ruffling a hand through his dark brown locks.

“So you’re going back to work tonight?” Alistair’s face fell slightly, along with your heart, as his fingers picked absently at the crease in Max’s pant leg.

“Hey,” You quickly sprang into action, squatting down to be eye level with Alistair and nudging at his chin with your finger to get him to look up at you. “I brought you something” you begin, a grin spreading across your lips as you reach into your purse at your side.

“A present?!” Alistair’s eye’s light up suddenly and it makes you smile.

“Well, sort of, but it’s on loan” you explain as you pull the rented VHS tape out of your bag and hold it out in front of you.

“ET!” the boy all but shrieks. His Dad had taken him to see it at the drive-in when it had first come out and he hadn’t stopped talking about it since. When Raquel, Mr. Lord’s assistant, had called you a couple hours ago to explain the situation and asking if you could step in this week, you knew the boy might be overly emotional; his grandmother being ill and his father undoubtedly rushing off to work the moment you arrived at their doorstep. You had a feeling this would cushion the blow and your instincts were right on the money as he jumped up and down excitedly at you.

“Can we put it on now?” He asked, his excitement barely contained as he bounced up and down on his heels.

“Tell you what, why don’t we order a pizza and we can watch it with our dinner”

“Yay!” Alistair shouts, turning on his heel and running off to the kitchen, undoubtedly to browse the pizza menu stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

“I’m getting pepperoni!” You hear him yell from the kitchen and you huff a laugh at his eagerness as you straighten back up and face your employer once again.

“Thank you, honestly sometimes I don’t know what I’d do without you” Mr. Lord tells you honestly and you smile, placing a hand on his bicep.

“Happy to help” you tell him. And you are. Maxwell and Alistair have become this sort of part-time family of yours and you’d do anything for them.

“I better get in there before he starts dialing and orders half the restaurant” you joke before bringing your hands up to fix Max’s tie around his neck until it’s tightened and straight, your hand brushing down the silken material slightly and then patting your palm against it once.It’s something you’ve never done to him before and you have no idea what came over you in the moment, the act feeling strangely intimate but you quickly clear your throat, take a step back and give him an easy smile.

“Don’t work too hard” you tell him before you brush past him to go after Alistair, knowing he won’t actually heed the advice, but you say it anyway.

You hear the front door open and close as you reach Alistair in the kitchen, grabbing the phone off the wall to place the order and get your evening started.

…

It’s well past ten when you hear the door open again, signaling Maxwell’s arrival home. You look up from the kitchen table where you’d been flipping through a magazine and watch him as he places his briefcase on the floor before his large frame envelops the open doorway to the kitchen. He leans against the wall, tie hanging loosely around his neck again and hair falling across his forehead.

“Alistair?” He asks hopefully, though you're pretty certain he already knows the answer.

“Asleep” You shrug and his face falls slightly.

“Of course, it’s late” he sighs, pulling his arm up to look at his watch. “Lost track of time I guess” he mumbles and you frown. He looks exhausted, hands running through his hair again.

“It’s getting long” you say, not meaning too it just comes out; occupational hazard you suspect.

“What?” He questions, not sure what you mean.

“Your hair” you nod in his direction. “When was the last time you had it cut?”

“Oh, um, I'm not sure…” Max trails off, thinking. He knows it has been too long. He had to skip his last appointment because an investor meeting had come up and he’d forgotten to ask Raquel to reschedule him.

You stand up, your feet moving of their own accord until you’re standing right in front of him at the kitchen doorway and you bring your left hand up to gently run through the few stray locks that are normally slicked back but have now curtained across his forehead.

“I could trim it for you” you say, your eyes glued to his hair and not even noticing how close you’re standing to him or that his gaze is fixed on you, his Adam's apple bobbing heavy in his throat.

“I… couldn’t ask you to do that” he says finally, running his own hand through his hair as you pull yours away.

“No, really, I insist, come here” you take both your hands and grab for one of his, pulling him further into the kitchen and sliding a chair out.

“I have my stuff here, I was going to give Alistair a trim this week anyway” you shrug. “Sit, I’ll be right back” you instruct and he sighs but dutifully does as you ask.

You return a couple minutes later with your supplies and a towel that you secure around his neck. You go to the sink and fill your spray bottle with water so you can mist it through his hair to get it wet enough to cut before you begin your work.

“You have a great head of hair, I see where Alistair gets it from” you comment as your fingers rake through it from the top of his scalp to the back of his neck. It was true. A lot of your male clients around Mr. Lord’s age were already showing a receding hairline and none of them had hair as thick as his. “I don’t think you have to worry about going bald anytime soon” you joke and you hear him chuckle softly.

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do this” Max says into the stillness of the room while you continue to trim and run your hands through his hair, ensuring all the ends are even.

“It’s kind of fun when it’s not work,” you shrug. Plus you really didn’t mind running your hands through Max’s hair, not that you’d ever admit that to him. You’d been dying to do it since you met him. Soft, luscious locks begging for a pair of hands other than his own to run through them.

You finish the trim, place the scissors down on the table and take an extra few seconds to run both hands through his hair, your nails raking gently against his scalp as you style his hair the way he likes it.

“There” you smile at your handiwork before reaching for the handheld mirror on the table and holding it up for him to take. His hand wraps around yours on the handle of the mirror as he brings it in front of him, his free hand running through his hair to inspect the length.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Feels much better” he beams at you through the mirror with his megawatt smile that makes your knees weaken and you bite your lip, looking away quickly as heat rises in your cheeks.

“Just glad I could help” you tell him before you untuck the towel from the collar of his dress shirt and sweep it off his shoulders, balling it up before any loose hair falls onto the floor and placing it on the seat of a nearby chair so you can take it to the laundry room later. You're standing up straight behind him again and before you can talk yourself out of it, you rest your hands on his broad shoulders and start kneading, instantly feeling the tight knots of muscles beneath his dress shirt.

“Oh, um” Max startles slightly in the chair, turning his head as far to the side as he can to try and look at you.

“Sorry” you quickly pull your hands from his shoulders as if you’d been burned and Max turns his body in his seat so he’s sitting sideways on the chair, his elbow resting on the back.

“It’s ok” Max assures, large brown eyes looking up at you. “But, you don’t have to… I mean I don’t expect…” he trails off and you quickly come to the understanding that he’s not mad at you for touching him or doesn’t even not want you to.

An idea comes to your head as you stare down at the big puppy dog eyes of the exhausted man staring back at you. A man that deserves so much more than what life has thrown at him. It’s a risky idea, sure, and could potentially ruin everything you’ve built with this family over the last several months but something just comes over you and takes hold and you can’t seem to shake it off.

“Turn your chair around to face me, and bring it forward a bit, away from the table” you instruct, taking a few steps back so he has room. His eyes glance over you for a few moments, studying to see if you’re being serious or not before he finally swallows and nods, silently obeying your orders. He turns the chair and sits on it properly again, his hands going under the seat so he can shuffle it forward slightly so it's not backed right up against the table, his eyes never leaving you from where you stand a foot or so away, leaned against the kitchen island in front of him.

Satisfied with where he sits, you take the two steps across the kitchen to reach him again and your hands go back to his shoulders, this time rubbing up and down the material of the dark blue suspenders for a few moments before your fingers hook underneath them and slide them down his arms. You catch the shudder he releases but neither of you comment on it.

“You’re always working so hard” you sigh as you run a hand through his hair again before bringing it to run down the side of his face and his eyes close voluntarily at your touch. “Taking care of Alistair, of your clients, your business” you continue, both hands now fiddling with the tie at his neck, loosening it further.

“Who takes care of you?” You ask, though not expecting an answer, and he doesn’t give you one. Just swallows thickly instead, breathing heavily through his nose.

You successfully loosen the tie completely before sliding it off of him, wrapping the silk around your hands briefly to feel the fine fabric. You put one hand on his shoulder and step around him until you’re behind him and squat down as each of your hands grab for his arms and pull them behind his back until his wrists are together and you lay the silk fabric of the tie over top of them.

“Is this ok?” You ask, mouth next to his ear now and he quickly nods his head.

“Yes” he manages to breathe out and you go back to your task of securing the tie around his wrists, giving it a gentle tug when you're finished to make sure it's not too tight but also that he can’t wriggle free too easily.

You take a steadying breath while still behind him before raising up to your feet again. You’ve never actually done anything like this before and your hands are nearly shaking, your entire body buzzing with excitement but you try to will yourself to relax. Max needs this, and you can do it. You can give him what he needs and what he’d never ask you for.

Settling your shoulders and holding your head high, you finally step back around him until you’re in front of him again.

“Good boy” you praise him once you’re facing him again; hand coming up to rest on his cheek and he closes his eyes at the warmth of your palm against his skin.

“Poor baby, just needs someone to take care of him, don’t you?” you tease, your thumb brushing against his cheek.

“Yes, Angel” Max sighs, his eyes finally opening again to meet yours. You notice the endearment slip, the same one he had used this morning and it gives you butterflies. You take another steadying breath to reign yourself in so you don't end up untying him and letting him do whatever he wants with you. God knows you want to, but you want tonight to be just for him.

“I’m going to take good care of you, aren’t I Maxwell?” You whisper and his eyes close again upon hearing his first name come from your lips. You had always called him Mr. Lord, but tonight, he was just Maxwell.

Placing a hand on each of his shoulders, you lower yourself onto his lap, straddling him with each of your legs on either side of his and you can feel him already growing hard beneath you. Max’s chest is heaving as he tries to maintain some type of control over his body, his heart beating wildly underneath his pressed white dress shirt as your hands glide up and down from the tops of his shoulders to the middle of his chest.

“I think I like you like this” you purr, lower half grinding up against his to create some friction and a moan slips from his lips as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours. “You don’t have to think, don’t have to act, just be free… just be with me, baby” you tell him before you lean forward and capture his lips with yours, both of you moaning into the kiss when your mouths open and tongues meet. His lips are soft, as soft as you’d always fantasized they’d be. His tongue explores your mouth greedily, desperate to taste every part of you, lick into every cavern. You’d always imagined he’d be a great kisser but you had no idea how amazing he’d be. You’re so lost in the kiss you almost forget your plan all together, wanting to just stay in this moment with him for as long as your lung capacities would allow. Your hands are in his hair now, fingers running through the soft waves, and he groans into your mouth before he pulls back suddenly.

“Angel, please. Let me hold you, touch you” he all but whines, squirming underneath you and you almost break, feeling defenseless against his pleas, but you hold steady and straighten up in his lap again.

“Not tonight baby. Tonight is for you. This is what I want, and you want to please me, don’t you Maxwell?”

“Yes” he nods, his voice trembling.

It’s clear that giving up control is not something Max is used to, but you know he needs it, likes it even - if the evidence currently pressing against your thigh is any indication.

“Good boy” you praise again and when his cock twitches against your leg, your eyebrows raise at him in surprise.

“You like being my good boy, Maxwell?” You tease, rewarding him with a forceful press of your pelvis into his groin and he moans, biting his lower lip.

“Yes”

“You feel so good baby” you moan, rocking into him, your hands around the back of his neck now. “So big and hard for me” you praise and a whine escapes his lips as he tries to meet your thrusts with his own as much as he can within the confines of the chair he’s tied to.

You lean your face forward until your mouth is on the shell of his ear and you gently pull the lobe between your teeth before soothing over it with your tongue. “Want you in my hand, in my mouth” you confess breathily against his ear and he whimpers. “Can I take you out baby?”

Max eagerly nods, not trusting his own voice and you nip at his earlobe again. “Words, baby” you remind him.

“Yes” he breathes. “Take my cock out, it’s yours Angel”

He sounds absolutely wrecked already and you love it. You bring your attention to his waist and pop open the button to his trousers, sliding down the zipper before your hand pushes eagerly inside to cup him over his briefs.

“Oh, baby” Max sighs, hanging his head down so he can see your hand rubbing along his shaft covered in expensive soft black cotton.

“Is this my cock, Maxwell?” You ask, feeling more emboldened by the minute as Max turns into absolute putty under your hands.

“Yes. Fuck. Yeah baby, all yours”

You remove your hand from him for just a few seconds so you can tug his pants down to his thighs and then shove the front of his briefs down so you can take him out of the confines of his underwear and see him in all his glory. And what a glorious site it is, indeed, you think to yourself.

Max hisses when you pull his length out and run your hand down it once. He’s long and too thick for you to be able to wrap your hand all the way around it. The head is dark and purple and already leaking precum. “It’s beautiful, just like you baby” you tell him before you lean forward to press a quick kiss to his lips and smile at him. “Gonna make you feel so good” you promise before easing yourself off of his lap and onto your knees instead and Max groans, tossing his head back.

You start with teasing little licks and kisses to the head before going lower and licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock and Max moans from above you. “Tastes good too” you tell him before your mouth closes around the fat head and sucks gently, causing Max to buck his hips up into you.

“Stay still” you scold, immediately taking your mouth off of him to look up at him. “Don’t be a naughty boy” you warn as you grip both of his thighs tightly.

“Oh, fuck” Max groans, eyes closing and head falling back again. It's clear he’s loving this, loving you being in control of him. Another bead of precum dribbles out and slides down his dick and you quickly duck down to catch it on your tongue and lick a stripe up his length again. This time Max remains still, his breaths coming out harder through his nose as he concentrates on remaining still.

“Good boy” you praise before bringing your whole mouth down on him, swallowing down as much of his length as your throat will allow and repeating the process over and over, head bobbing up and down on his cock with enthusiasm.

“Oh baby, shit. Holy shit Angel” Max whines as he watches you choke on his dick. Your eyelashes flutter up at him as you watch him watch you. He looks completely fucked out, his pupils blown wide, shoulders tense under the white dress shirt where he’s pulling against the restraints behind him, desperate to reach for you, to touch you.

You moan into his cock. Watching him completely lose himself in you is doing all kinds of things to your body. You can feel yourself soaking your panties, getting off on the pleasure you’re giving him and you bring a hand up to wrap around his length and work him up and down for what your mouth can’t reach.

When the back of your throat needs a break you focus your mouth on his head instead, swirling your tongue around and underneath the tip while your hand continues pumping his shaft, wet with your saliva and easily sliding up and down the length.

“Oh Angel, you feel so fucking good” Max praises.”Oh fuuuuuuck” His breathing has become even more erratic and you know he’s getting close so you double your efforts, taking his whole length in your mouth again and hollowing out your cheeks as you slide him down your throat and swallow. The sounds of wet saliva and your lips smacking and swallowing his cock are positively sinful as they bounce off the kitchen walls and back to your ears and it urges you on, bobbing faster and faster up and down his cock, your hand pumping and gently squeezing him in tandem with your mouth.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Baby!” Max whines and you know it's a warning. Rather than lifting off of him you moan into him instead and continue sucking and tugging at him, urging him to finish in your mouth.

“Oh Christ, Angel. I’m coming, I’m coming. Fuck!” Max warns before you feel his hot spend hit the back of your throat in spurts and you continue moaning and swallowing around his cock, milking him of every last drop until his hips finally still and you swallow once more before releasing him with a pop and laying your head to rest on his thigh to take a breath.

“Oh my God” Max heaves a sigh and you feel all the tension leave his body and a smile crosses your lips. You move your head forward just a little to press a kiss to his shaft before you straighten up on your knees again and tuck him back into his underwear.

“Angel, fucking untie me, please” he begs desperately and you quickly oblige him, reaching behind the chair to tug at the knot until it comes free, the silk falling to the floor and Max’s arms shoot out the moment they’re free and tug you up off the floor and back onto his lap as his strong arms circle around your back and hold you tight to his chest, hugging you like you’re a life raft and he could just float away into nothing if you weren’t there to anchor him.

“Angel you are so perfect to me” he sighs, nuzzling against the side of your face.”I… didn’t even know I needed that” he admits and you smile, leaning back so you can look at him.

“I know baby” you coo, running a hand through his hair again before resting it on his cheek. “Told you I’d take care of you”

“And… I want to take care of you, too” Max shrugs, his eyes pleading with yours as his hands run absently across your back.

“Another time” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his strong nose. Max’s shoulders fall but he nods in understanding.

“Do you promise?” He asks, bringing his large hands to run up and down your sides.

“I promise, Mr. Lord” you smile sweetly at him.

...

Chapter two

Tagging some of my Maxwell girlies @boliv-jenta @suzdin

If you wanna be tagged there is an update, lmk!

[asha-mage]

Tagged by: @gunkreads (thanky!)

1) Last book I read:

The Scottish Boy by Alex de Campi. I really really love me some historical fiction that digs into the actual political complexities and realities of the feudal system. Defiantly one of the spicier books I've read recently, which made it fun to listen to when I was doing mundane activities like shopping. The audio book narrator is absolutely stellar though, and I would recommend to anyone who likes feudal politics.

2) A book I recommend:

The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune has become my Swiss army recommendation: a light contemporary fantasy, full of warm vibes and a sweet story at it's heart. It's still got teeth for tackling social issues- beneath the sweetness it is primarily a criticism of our Foster/education systems and how they fail the most vulnerable. I seem to recall that one of the praise quotes floated on this one a lot is 'feels like being wrapped up in a big fluffy gay blanket' and concur.

3) A book that I couldn’t put down:

In Other Lands by Sarah Reese Brenan. A Narina pastiche about a annoying know it all who gets taken too a fantasy other world. It's incredibly funny and compelling and weird, and I couldn't stop reading it. Brenan is a master at making her characters both three dimensional and frustrating and so easy to love, and while I wish I knew more of the exact details of her world- she engages with the ideas and conflicts she sets up in a such multifaceted way that I don't really think I mind the lack of a map, or timeline, or political flowchart.

4) A book I’ve read twice (or more)

Eye of the World by Robert Jordan. I've lost count of how many times I've read it exactly- more then thirty and at least once every few years since I first read it. This one is a core memory for me, or maybe a load baring pillar of my personality.

5) A book on my TBR

Oh man. A lot. Like. A lot a lot. But I really am hoping to get to Ocean's Echo by Evrina Maxwell this year. I adored Winter's Orbit so much, but Ocean's Echo has just been sitting on my nightstand, waiting.

6) A book I’ve put down

I really tried with Dark Rise by C.S. Pacat. I just couldn't get into and I don't know why. I may swing back to it when I find the time. It feels like I would like it a lot if I could get far enough in.

7) A book on my wish list

Lava Red Feather Blue by Molly Ringle. It seems very up my alley.

8) A favourite book from childhood

I've always had as soft spot for the Artemis Fowl books. I fell off them in a way I didn't with the likes of Percy Jackson and I wonder if I would feel the same way if I circled back around to them now- probably not but they'll always have a special place for being the books to introduce me to the heist genre and predispose me to liking things like Ocean's 8 and Leverage.

9) A book you would give a friend

As a gift? It would depend on the friend. A Psalm for the Wildbuilt by Becky Chambers probably- since it's short sweet and pretty impossible to hate imo. I have problems with Becky Chambers's brand of....warm cynicism? Their is an undercurrent to a lot of her works that boils down to 'humanity is screwed already short of some kind extra-human intervention', especially her Wayfareres series. I feel like Wildbuilt is one of her books that engages with that idea in a more thoughtful and interesting manner. It has some of the most thoughtful and interesting conversations about humanity and nature that I've run across in a long time, and it's short which is always a plus for a gift book.

10) The most books you own by a single author

Robert Jordan baby, at a cool 11 (or 14 depending on how you count the last three). I adore Jordan's Wheel of Time series more then I can put into adequate words. Core memory. Load bearing pillar. Canon event. Etc etc.

11) A nonfiction book you own

Not many. I'm not a big nonfiction reader to be honest. I think I have a copy of the Sawbones book, by Dr McElroy hanging around somewhere.

12) what are you currently reading

I'm currently revisiting the Percy Jackson series. I intend to probably take a tour through the whole thing- the original five, HOO, Magnus Chase, Trials of Apollo, etc etc. Partly it's a desire to watch the show but also a desire too reexamine my relationship to these works. I read them while I was in their target audience, and while not as foundation for me as WoT, I would say their still pretty important.

13) what are you planning on reading next?

I think I want to try and give Heaven's Official Blessing another go. It's the only MXTX work I've bounced off of, which is weird since I'm pretty sure consensus is that it's her best work. I've been meaning to get back to it for a while. If still bounce off it, I'll try something off TBR- either Ocean's Echo or Lava Red Feather Blue.

Tagging: @highladyluck @veliseraptor @ace-and-ranty

[angelasscribbles]

Drake Walker Appreciation and HC's 2023

This is my offering for Day 1 of Drake Walker Appreciation Week by @drake-walker-appreciation

What do I love about this fictional man? The better question is what don’t I love about him? Because I love everything about him, even his faults and flaws!

There is no one more loyal than Drake Walker. Now I know some may dispute this because canonically he does fall for his best friend’s girl but… in a route where you romance Drake, he fights it tooth and nail. Think about it. Here is the love of his life in front of him and he struggles mightily to deny it, fight it and hide it. Why? Because he doesn’t ever want to hurt Liam or MC for that matter.

As gruff as he is, he forgives Maxwell for hiding the truth about Savannah, he always does the right thing, even if he bitches about it (he’s an antihero, think Han Solo), he really is a marshmallow!

Anyone who’s read even a little of my stuff knows that I almost always make him a captain in the King’s Guard or the Royal Guard (these might be used interchangeably by some people, but in my HC and my writing, they are separate units, or rather, the King’s Guard and the Queen’s Guard are smaller, elite units within the Cordonian Royal Guard).

Drake, as I write him, almost always fights his attraction for Riley initially, despite being strongly drawn to her from the beginning. Once she gives him any type of encouragement, and sometimes even if she doesn’t, he becomes very protective and almost obsessive in his devotion. I have written him both as completely unjealous (perfectly willing to share her with Liam as long as he has a place in her life) and over the top homicidally possessive and probably everything in between. The overarching HC is that she is the love of his life and despite being a man whore before he met her, once he falls, that’s it for him. He will do anything and everything for her.

Drake loves Riley with a single minded intensity that just overpowers everything else, including his own better sense.

For some reason, I always HC that he never wanted kids, mostly because of his position in the King’s Guard, and having lost his own father. He doesn’t want to put a child through that. He wants neither children nor does he ever want marriage or even a serious relationship until he meets Riley, who changes his mind about wanting a relationship. Once he has a child, he relishes the role and is an involved and doting father. In any universe where they are in a poly relationship, I usually make the first baby or two Liam’s (for obvious, succession related reasons) and Drake is just as devoted to that child as he will later be to his own.

I HC that Drake is a very physical person and an adrenaline junkie. He rides a motorcycle, drives a fast car, plays drums, skydives for fun, rides horses, works out regularly, goes for a five mile run every morning, and plays baseball etc. Thanks to @karahalloway I now also HC that he plays polo!

Though he denies it, and grumbles about it, he actually loves the stupid pet names that Riley comes up with for him. (Cuddle bear, snuggle bug, squishy) and despite the gruff exterior he still shows to the outside world, he is extremely affectionate and shows his love in physical ways, not just sex, but cuddling and frequent touch including hand holding, playing with her hair, having his hand at her back, or even just quickly brushing hands as they pass each other during the workday. He needs to know where she is at every moment, but that’s part of his protective nature and job as head of her security.

For some reason, I’ve given him an obsession with bacon in everything I’ve written! And of course, I think we all agree that he loves the outdoors. Camping, hiking, fishing, etc. And whiskey, obviously whiskey (I’ve only made him straight up have to go to AA once lol).

I enjoy writing him with a darker edge sometimes, which somehow makes his gentleness with Riley even hotter.

Ok, I think that about covers it!

[shebpaw]

If you follow my main you probably know I'm really into Don't Starve Together right now. As a consequence, I've been thinking about a Wings of Fire AU because I'm annoying. SO WITH THAT SAID...

Maxwell - Nightwing, "animus" (pretending to be one using the Codex Umbra, an actual animus-touched object). Tried to pull a Darkstalker and was king of the Nightwings before being dethroned.

Charlie - Nightwing animus, made so by becoming the night monster. Current Nightwing queen.

Wilson - Nightwing. Dethroned Maxwell, then quickly dethroned by Charlie.

Willow - Skywing, firescales.

Wolfgang - Mudwing, self-appointed Big Wings of the rest.

Wendy - Nightwing/Icewing, mind reader but only for the dead. Abigail's flower is an animus-touched object.

Wes - Rainwing, in poor health so he's a sickly gray/white most of the time.

Wickerbottom - Sandwing.

WX-78 - Unknown (possibly Skywing), former animus who transferred their soul into a clockwork body. While alive, their humanity (dragonity?) has mostly withered away.

Woodie - Leafwing, with a worrying penchant for chopping trees...

Wigfrid - Icewing but stuck in character of a Skywing gladiator. Very committed to the bit, Willow is not impressed.

Webber - Hivewing, formerly a scavenger child. No one knows how he's a dragon, but it's assumed he's one of Maxwell's failed animus spells.

Winona - Nightwing

Warly - Seawing

Wartox - Hivewing, animus

Wormwood - Leafwing/Nightwing hybrid, prophetic and has Leafspeak

Wurt - Seawing, but a really weird one. Resembles a deep-sea creature. Currently the only Seawing eligible for queenship, but she's just a baby.

Walter - Sandwing. Woby is his pet scavenger.

Wanda - Icewing, animus trying to cheat death while keeping her soul in tact.

[bryan360]

*A Gundam-style pose that will never be forgotten….for how not good that it turned out. We’re very sorry for these three that it happened before. Hope they won’t do that again. 😣

*🐰🖌️Maxwell: Considered from my past bio info that includes one of my “favorites” for some reason, I meant was for that Filipino pal’s artworks as our creator friend’s interests back then. I used to enjoy seeing his works as well; so that counts for something.

🐰🖌️Maxwell: Nevertheless, it was still part of me to have nice friends as the time goes on. Look how I’d met with Murukir while celebrating our “late” friendship anniversary! 😊👍

*”Shh.” You don’t wake the baby, won’t you? It’s nice to have Riya doing her babysitting job like a good sister she was.

*My Filipino pal did well for playing Gran Tursimo series so far. At least of what he’d take lesson from and ran at the finish line. Good to know of celebrating his 9th anniversary of racing back then. 😉👍

*And finally this one despite of a submitted date was actually seen in this artwork. Never mind that as bringing Jason’s phases to a ongoing battle. Nice. 🙂👍

(To be continued….no left behind.)

[lunarcry]

gbf msq spoilers cuz i thought about the tau'luk & mika parts again. aurgyh

Mikaboshi: Don't you have daughters yourself? What would they think? Tau'luk: I've given up the right to call myself a father. The moment I decided to become a king transcending mortal sentimentality, the father in me died off. Mikaboshi: Don't you think even a dead person has something to leave behind for their children? Tau'luk: I leave behind the skies. Mikaboshi: What a splendid king you are. Despite their shared affinities, the pair come to realize that the differences between them are simply irreconcilable.

Tau'luk: And so, as a king… I made a decision. At that moment, I died as a father.

Mikaboshi: (When I accepted my fate to be sealed together with Shitori following her betrayal, the monster in me died and I became a mother. Yet here I am again, falling with the Great Wall. I may be alone this time, but I feel neither afraid nor lonely. Leaving something behind as a parent might not be such a bad thing after all.)

ITS THESE....parts especially....T_^ at that moment i died as a father. at that moment i became a mother. tau'luk who saw that if he didnt do all that to pholia itd be Bad, so he decided to give her the freedom to hate him at least. (big talk about the skydwellers & the emphasize on how powerful the desire to not give up is). tau'luk leaving behind the skies...mika......T___^ tau'luk who is completely erased from the world, while mika is implied to die w/ the grand sleuth and great wall 2.0. mika still alive hopium. but with the way they did these parts i am content if shes dead, like itd SUCK cuz i think mika is such a cool character and is Definitely one of the best gbf charas overall to me, but. the parallells in dialogue to tau'luk...? how can i say no.....

Maxwell: You'll become unable to leave anything behind! Where is your will to continue living! Where is your attachment to everything you've spent your life building! Tau'luk: It's still there, all right.

Mikaboshi: (No matter where I go, the wall ends up being nothing more than a coffin for me.)

these parts too....

Mikaboshi: To be honest, I knew this would happen. That you would betray me. I am an Astral after all. Being one of the stronger Astrals, I was given charge of my own skydom. Irotis: Th-then why… Mikaboshi: Because I also knew the reason you betrayed me. You did what you did for my sake, not for anyone else. You even went so far as to sacrifice yourself… It was the first time anyone had gone to such lenghts for me. I felt blessed, even if your actions were a betrayal. And I did confront you at one point to hear your thoughts on that… Irotis: I… I'm sorry… A semblance of her old self can be heard in her apology, which pleases Mikaboshi. Mikaboshi: You're an amazing person, Shitori… It wasn't some skydweller plot that stopped a monster from destroying her own kind… No… It was all you. To know that you cared for me meant so much. It was your love that saved Nalhegrande, and me as well. That's why I know you can do this, Shitori. You can even save the world if you set your mind to it.

Mikaboshi: Goodbye, Shitori. No matter what happens, you'll always be my beloved daughter.

T_________T MIKAAAAAAAAA mika who picked up the abandoned baby that was shitori..... mika who disliked astral society & wanted revenge for how they treated her............ shitoris va is SO amazing, her and mikas relation and characters..............the best parts of act3.

[collymore]

Crucially, a rather unhappy and obviously ongoing in name only, William and Catherine marriage!

By Stanley Collymore

Kate works so hard to get William's needed attention which is seldom forthcoming; and when given is hardly spontaneously ever willingly so rendered; that it has so, self-evidently become crucially, very embarrassing and excruciatingly painful to literally watch; but quite undeniably William unquestionably obviously distinctly abhors his wife and it truly shows! Just as it naturally does, as to why the royal sycophants, actual trolls, paid bots and the Palace's PR are crucially working overtime to very dishonestly, rather lyingly and too basically disingenuously, publicly give truly erroneous impressions couched as an obvious certainty, it's basically Harry and Meghan's marriage, which is in big trouble!

Believe the latter, all you want and probably will, as I'm sure you're the sort who could and will be easily persuaded and undoubtedly convinced, that neither Jimmy Savile nor Jeffrey Epstein who were clearly Palace favourites, were distinctively not paedophiles; Ghislaine Maxwell also, wasn't effectively a willing sex trafficker; plus crucially the actually discernibly archetypal, English rose and rather hard done by Lucy Letby isn't, and could never have been an evil killer of rather innocent babies, because her modus operandi aptly fits, as very similarly Jimmy Savile, and those rather earlier mentioned persons, your own abhorrent ones; replete with their odious hypocrisy.

But most thankfully whenever commonsense kicks in the sentiments of ingrained sycophants obviously like yourselves, distinctly because you're clearly such cretinous dimwits, are crucially never legitimately actually taken real notice of because clearly, you're well known not to have the capacity or obviously the clear intellectual acumen to truly discern for yourselves what is simply obviously right, and what' effectively disastrously wrong; even when rather capriciously your controllers, clearly literally working on you undoubtedly and quite assiduously, for their own clickbait, and clear financial benefit, are simply, callously having you on!

States of affairs which you'll never grasp or work out why because your sort are essentially far too dense to ever significantly simply fathom out, the obvious truthfulness of such a revelation. And effectively, distinctively one naturally inevitable and unquestionably very upcoming revelation with its patently obvious and imminent, seismic outcome is, that Kate Middleton and her rather exactingly stalked, and discernibly secured husband William Windsor will split and most infuriatingly for you racist Karens, vile like-minded Gammons and essentially low-life intellectually challenged, basically quite toxically verminous morons; effectively not Harry and Meghan, as you essentially always wanted.

(C) Stanley V. Collymore 8 September 2023.

Author's Remarks: Enforcedly born British and in a culture of which I’m significantly au fait as well as immensely steeped in, it’s nevertheless my Barbadian heritage and its own inimitably unique culture that I’m quite distinctly and unquestionably so, most emphatically and rather gratefully too deeply immersed in. An inclusive upbringing that from birth, throughout one’s childhood, adolescence and adulthood inculcate the undoubted concept that essentially throughout one’s life, full responsibility for which, on emerging from childhood and adolescence, one has and must logically, sensibly and effectively assume, at all times, full responsibility for one’s very own individual, whether acting alone or in concert collectively with others, distinct actions, and not malevolently, egregiously or simply facilely expect other to cover up for or actually malignantly or sycophantically carry the can for what very clearly have done.

In the decades therefore that have eventually followed my birth, upbringing and the natural shouldering quite consciously thereafter for all matters pertaining to my adulthood I’ve been very dismayed during my residency in Britain how very easily and likewise effectively nationally, the repulsive and discernibly, deeply entrenched, noxiously class-infested and quite obsessively the reproachable social climbing orientation significantly is. A pattern of behaviour that Kate Middleton: a demonstrably workshy, inveterately elitist in her ineradicable mind-set, and a fanatically inculcated narcissist calculatedly and indefatigably coached by her assertive mother, relentlessly stalked and consequentially snared a credulous, selfish and utterly smug but basically a thoroughly dim-witted, albeit exceedingly, unwarrantedly privileged prat William Windsor.

Obviously William Windsor didn’t have the sort of cultural upbringing that I did and where the uncensored emotional and sexual adage is, and effectively installed in me by my Mama when I attained my puberty and specifically so the age of consent. And goes like this: “If your head, heart and penis independently and emotionally say yes, go for it! If any one of that trio however says no, then forget it!” Astute Barbadian Commonsense! And don’t tell or try to convince me, a Bajan – the affectionate name we Barbadians give ourselves – that you’re knocking off a more than eager bint for in excess of a decade and moreover one who hates work as much as you yourself do, but you can well afford to do that shit because monarichal and serf subservient Britain allows you too; however this woman you’re shagging, easily and at will is nowt but an obsessive social climber who wouldn’t have looked at you twice if you were an Asda supermarket shelf packer or even an assiduously hardworking postman, but you’re clearly none of these perceived by her, mundane things and are in effect second in line to an entrenched Middle Ages mind-set British monarchy; yet it fatuously took you TEN PLUS years William to discover that you supposedly love her and wanted to marry her. Yet subsequently racially chiding your brother Harry, genuinely in love, for effectively and easily making up his own mind that he was in love with an African American woman Meghan Markle, who self-evidently didn’t have Kate Middleton’s pink skin, and distinctly in spite of your bullying and utilizing that also of your uncle and late mother’s brother to dissuade Harry from marrying Meghan! An enterprise you miserably and self-evidently, gratefully failed in.

Frankly you were had by Kate and her mother, William Windsor, and now belatedly, as you’re similarly not the sharpest knife in the cutlery drawer, you’re essentially realizing that you’ve been massively had by Kate and her mum. Hence the quite laughable impasse that you and your emotionally bogus marriage are decidedly in. And, frankly, no matter how much public, fake positive PR spin that the Palace’s  self-servingly PR spin, the customary right-wing rags endeavour to portray you and Kate as the archetypal Romeo and Juliet, while your trolls, paid bots and gullible clickbait sycophants do the same , while conveniently throwing all your noxious vitriol, hatred and racist frustrations at Harry and Meghan, it plainly, simply isn’t working, for why would rags like the Daily Mail need to include Meghan and Harry in practically every article about you and Kate in order to get their financial clickbait; in other words have your potential readers respond to these articles, because without Harry and Meghan even to inspire hatred stories solely about yourself William and Kate are thoroughly boring and uninteresting.  And most definitely to those like me , even if enforcedly British born and actually retain our British citizenship – and why should we give these up when you have so much distinctly belonging to us (Lol) – are nevertheless culturally, logically and intelligently Bajans!

For we know that difference between love and pretence; and while you and Kate Middleton are pretending, and quite pathetically so, we’ll continue to applaud, and much to your collective racist chagrin we know, Meghan and Harry for being genuinely in love, and while both mentally liberated – just like us Bajans – quite determinedly and unafraid doing their own thing!

[k-evans-reads]

Playing With Fire

Chapter 1

Summary: After a change of heart nearly ten years into her career as a pediatric intensive care unit nurse, Ellie Maxwell has moved back home and returned to her old job at the local bakery, where the regulars are the firefighters from down the street. When sparks begin to fly between Ellie and the guarded, closed-off Chris, will anything come of it?

Pairing: Firefighter!Chris Evans X OFC Elizabeth "Ellie" Maxwell

Word Count: 4,503

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own. 

Warnings: None.

Main Masterlist | Playing With Fire Masterlist

A grunt filled the room as Brooke dropped a box onto the couch, before she sighed and looked at Ellie incredulously. “What in the world are in these boxes?! They weigh like, a million pounds,” she asked, Ellie chuckling as she looked at the sea of boxes around them, adjusting her tie-dye shirt before she began digging through her own box.

“Oh that one is books, I think,” she told her best friend, brows furrowed as she tried to remember. “Or maybe my sewing stuff.”

A dry chuckle rose from Brooke, turning to stare at Ellie. “I swear you are actually an 80 year old woman trapped in a 29 year old’s body.”

“Yeah but who do you call when you need your jeans hemmed?” Ellie muttered, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Whatever you say, old lady.”

“I’m not an old lady!” Ellie laughed, pointing at Brooke as she lifted plates out of the box, gently unwrapping them from their paper and placing them on the table next to her.

Brooke set out in unpacking Ellie’s books, her back to her best friend as she replied, “You just quit your job in nursing, moved back to your hometown, are going to work in a bakery and the thing you’re most looking forward to is playing with your baby nephew and spending your weekends curled up reading… yeah, you’re an old lady.”

“When you summarize my life that way it sounds like most people’s life goal but in reverse,” Ellie pointed out, biting her lip while she avoided Brooke’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” Her lifelong best friend wondered out loud.

“Most people would work at a bakery as a temporary job on their way to become a nurse, not quit their job as a nurse and go back to working in a bakery,” She explained, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, that familiar feeling of frustration at herself inside her chest.

Before she could get too far into self loathing, Brooke stated firmly, “Ellie don’t.”

“Don’t what?” She scrunched her nose up, tilting her head in the process.

“Don’t do that. I know you feel like a failure but you’re not,” Brooke rested her hands on top of the stack of books and looked into Ellie’s eyes with certainty.

“I just feel that way though,” Ellie couldn’t help but feel deflated while she kept on her task of pulling each of her items out of the cardboard box. “I mean I spent all those years working so hard to be a nurse, my parents paid for all my school and now I’m not even doing it anymore.”

“Ellie, will you stop beating yourself up about this? You were a nurse for almost seven years. It’s not like you didn’t try to make it work,” She tried to reason with her even though it didn’t take away all that Ellie was feeling. “Besides, it’s not like you weren’t good at your job. It just took too much out of you emotionally and that’s okay. You’re a sensitive person, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Ellie shrugged while picking off a rogue string on her oversized tee shirt while admitting, “It just feels pathetic to be almost 30 and practically starting my life over again.”

“Well I know your family is happy about having you in town again and so am I,” Brooke honestly spoke, assuring her that, “This is going to be a good thing Ellie. You made the right choice for you.”

Ellie nodded, but Brooke’s words rang through her mind for the rest of the morning as they danced around each other, unpacking Ellie’s new home slowly but surely. She couldn’t help but feel like she failed, despite Brooke’s reassurances. She’d worked so hard and her parents invested so much money into her nursing degree, only for Ellie to quit not even ten years in. She wished for nothing more than to be able to go back in time to when she was eighteen and to be able to pick a different path for herself, something she’d still be able to use, rather than sitting back where she started, almost thirty years old with a nearly hundred and fifty thousand dollar degree that was no good to her anymore.

But she had reached the end of her rope. She just couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t go home and cry herself to sleep every single night over a patient who had passed away, someone struggling with their mental health, or seeing a sick child. It just took too much out of her emotionally and at this point in her life, she had nothing left to give. After a lot of sleepless nights and the bags under her eyes getting larger and larger, she decided to wave the white flag and finally admit that she just couldn’t do it anymore. So here she was, coming back to her hometown with her tail between her legs, embarrassed and defeated.

But her saving grace was the bakery in town, in the old renovated home that it’d always been in. She’d worked there through high school and during her summers as a college student, and when she’d left for her nursing job in New York City after graduation, the owner- Dottie, a sweet older woman- promised that there would always be a spot for her in case something changed. And when something changed last month, she called Dottie first, almost sobbing as she spoke to her. And all of those instances combined had led Ellie to packing up all her belongings, breaking her lease early, and driving upstate to come back home.

So here she was, renting a quaint little yellow house right in between her parents family farm and the middle of town where the bakery was located, unpacking all of her belongings with her lifelong friend, ready to settle into a new chapter of her life… even if she wasn’t sure what that chapter was going to be.

Brooke stayed for a few more hours, helping unpack until they had got most of the boxes and gave her friend a tight hug, promising to see her the following day and leaving Ellie alone. She tried to make herself busy, organizing her closet and putting away things, but the thoughts began running through her head on a never-ending cycle. All she could think about was that she was a failure, that the time, energy, and money spent on that stupid degree was all put to waste. That she’d lost nearly ten years of her life to a lie, and that she was no better off at nearly thirty than she had been when she’d graduated high school.

At some point, nearly three hours after Brooke left, Ellie slammed her bathroom door shut, tears welling in her eyes at the realization that these thoughts would never end. But she knew she could distract herself somehow, so she pulled her hair into a ponytail, threw a plain crew neck sweatshirt over her tee, tossed a coat over her shoulders, and jammed her feet into sneakers, bounding down the front stairs and into her car, heading into town. Her fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel as she drove, but when she saw that little old house and the line of cars parked in front of it, she felt a warmth come over her.

She stepped out of the car and up the wooden stairs, opening the door and smiling faintly as the old bell rang from overhead, watching as the gray-haired lady turned her head, a surprised smile crossing her face. “Ellie! My goodness it’s so good to see you!” She beamed, moving around the counter to come to the front. “It’s been way too long!”

“It really has. I’ve missed you Dottie,” Ellie smiled, sighing as Dottie hugged her, the familiar embrace a welcome reprieve from the negativity in her head.

Dottie tutted, squeezing Ellie tighter as she replied, “I’ve missed you too.”

“Thank you so much for letting me come back to the bakery,” Ellie whispered, screwing her eyes shut as she gave Dottie one last squeeze and breathed in the familiar smell of buttercream and vanilla.

The old woman stepped back, but kept her hands on Ellie’s shoulders as she looked at her in shock. “Are you kidding? You’re my lifesaver. Things have gotten so busy here lately it’s been hard to keep up with just a few of us,” she laughed, before she pointed to an empty table, leading Ellie over to it. As they sat down, she sighed, studying the young woman for a moment before she asked,  “Now come tell me what’s been going on? Are you all moved in?”

Ellie nodded, glancing out the windows behind Dottie before she replied, “For the most part I am. My parents were over yesterday helping me get my furniture all moved in and then Brooke and I unpacked most of my smaller things this morning.”

“Are you sure you want to start tomorrow? Do you need more time to get settled?” Dottie asked her carefully, raising a grayed eyebrow at her.

“No, I’ll be happy to get back to work,” Ellie reassured her, shaking her head as she admitted, “I want something to do so I’m ready to start as soon as you want me.”

Dottie took her up on the offer, taking her around the bakery to show her that most things were right where they were years prior. Ellie found a certain comfort in the bakery staying the same, liking the familiarity that came with it. It was a welcome juxtaposition to nursing in the pediatric intensive care unit, where you never knew what you’d be walking into from day to day. The sweet older woman was over the moon to have Ellie back, not only happy to have someone she loved and trusted, but an employee she could let run things or bake whatever she pleased, knowing that it would be a great addition to the bakery and was excited to have her back.

Ellie was pinning the magnetic name tag to her shirt- the same one that had been hanging on the wall of the walk-in refrigerator for all these years, just in case she ever came back- when Dottie turned to her. “I know I don’t have to explain all the ins and outs to you, but you know that you can make whatever you want when you come in. Everyone always loves what you bake,” she told her with a smile, Ellie laughing to herself.

“I do have some new recipes I think you’ll like,” she noted, Dottie perking up at the statement. But the bell interrupted them, Dottie poking her head into the front just as a loud voice boomed through the small bakery.

“Dottie!” A man cried out, a muffled laugh carrying through the cafe. Ellie took a sip of her water before she followed Dottie to the counter, standing at the register as she smiled politely at the two men, both clad in t-shirts and jackets bearing the name of the local fire company, but also wearing easy, matching grins as they stood in front of Dottie.

“How are my favorite boys?” She asked them with a wide grin, eyes warm as she looked at them, Ellie seeing one blonde man who looked to be a little older than her leaning against the counter while a younger man, looking to be closer in age to her with dark hair and a well groomed beard standing next to him.

The younger looking darker-haired one laughed full-bodied, his eyes bright while he replied, “Good, but you better not let the other guys hear you say that or they’ll be jealous.”

“No they won’t, because you’re all my favorites.”

“That’s a lie, we all know I’m your favorite,” the same man smirked, eyes dropping to look in the pastry case while the other man greeted Dottie before he did the same.

Dottie looked at them fondly for a moment before she drawled, “Are you boys here for a reason or are you just trying to cause trouble?”

“Mostly trouble,” the young one shot back instantly, rising to his full height again as his eyes met Ellie’s, their gaze meeting for a brief moment before his blue eyes narrowed at her. “You’re new here aren’t you?”

“Well sort of,” she shrugged nervously, before she shrugged again as she added, “I used to work here but I’m back now. I’m Ellie.”

“Hi Ellie, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Chris, and this is Mark,” he introduced, jamming his thumb in the direction of the other man- Mark, Ellie reminded herself- over his own shoulder as Mark waved to her.

“They’re firefighters at the station right around the corner so all those boys are in here all the time,” Dottie supplied as she walked behind Ellie, reaching in and pulling some random treats out and putting them in a box.

“Well it’s not our fault you have the best bakery in town,” Chris laughed back with a smirk on his lips, before he winked at Ellie.

“Watch out for that one Ellie, he’s a charmer,” Dottie said to her with a dry tone, making Mark burst into laughter from behind Chris.

“Only for you, Dottie,” Chris answered, but he quietly thanked Dottie as she slid the box of desserts across the case to them, Mark passing Dottie cash as he thanked her as well. “But we did actually come in for a reason. It’s the Chief’s birthday so we wanted to order a cake for him.”

Dottie nodded, leading the men over to a table to discuss the order as Ellie tended the counter, greeting the few customers that straggled in during the evening hours. She found herself watching the trio a lot, watching the way Chris’ face lit up as he talked with Dottie, gesturing wildly as he spoke. It was easy to acknowledge his handsome looks, but what kept Ellie’s eyes on him was the warmth that seemed to just radiate from him in every way.

She didn’t even realize how long she had been staring when the trio stood up, the men each hugging Dottie as she promised to have the cake ready for them that Wednesday. But before they could make it out of the front door, Chris clapped his hands together, his face sheepish as if he’d forgotten something as he said, “We also wanted to talk to you about the toy drive.”

“Oh Ellie, I think I might have you take this over so I want you to come hear this,” Dottie called, waving her hand for Ellie to come closer from where she was re-reading the closing list near the door to the back. “Do you boys want to tell her what you’re doing?”

“Yeah, the firestation does a toy drive every November for foster kids to collect toys for Christmas. It’s coming up next Saturday and Dottie here usually donates something for it,” Chris explained with a slight shrug, a small grin on his face as his eyes moved to Dottie before they returned to Ellie’s. “I don’t know what you want to do but the kids all loved the cookies from last year.”

Dottie rested a hand on Ellie’s shoulder, telling her, “Ellie you can make whatever you want, just make sure you make enough extra for all my boys at the station,” as a slight smirk spread across her lips, her brows raising as she looked at the men out of the corner of her eyes.

Mark groaned appreciatively, shaking his head at them. “You spoil us Dottie, you know that?”

“Well now my sweet Ellie is going to be the one spoiling you,” she replied, nodding and adding, “So Ellie, you just give them whatever they need.”

“If you just tell me how many you want, I’ll make sure they’re all ready,” Ellie said, grabbing a piece of paper to write down the quantity as Mark told her. She clicked the pen, putting it back down on the countertop as she told them, “I really love that you all do a toy drive. If there’s anything else I could do, I would love to help.”

“Well we can always use some gift wrappers,” Chris shrugged, trailing off a bit at the end.

“I’ll be there,” she promised, smiling brightly at them both.

“Thank you Ellie, we appreciate the help,” Mark said appreciatively, before he grabbed the pastry box from where Chris had left it on the counter. “Well Chris, we should head back.”

“Yeah, we should. Thanks Dottie,” the man nodded, smiling brightly at the older woman as she said goodbye to him as well. But surprisingly, he turned to Ellie, a grin on his face as he added, “And it was nice to meet you Ellie, I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

“You really will be seeing a lot more of Chris, his sweet tooth is out of control,” the blonde man sarcastically added, smiling over his shoulder at Ellie as he pushed the door open, holding it open and stepping onto the porch as he waited for Chris.

“Well you’re coming to the right place then,” Ellie chuckled, watching as Chris began to walk out, but then her brows furrowed and she called, “Oh! By the way, do you have any requests for what to make for the toy drive? Is there something the kids like?”

“I don’t know about the kids, but I’m pretty into those iced shortbread cookies,” he suggested, that now-familiar smirk spreading across his face again.

Mark groaned from the porch, poking his head back as he pointed in Chris’ direction, exasperatedly saying, “Told you that you need to watch out for this guy.”

“I’ll remember that,” Ellie chuckled, watching as the men walked down the front steps and onto the sidewalk, Chris’ loud laugh carrying back into the bakery as they headed back to the firestation.

Ellie jumped into the closing duties as it got closer to the four o’clock closing time, wiping down counters and emptying the pastry case as the minutes ticked by, before she locked the door and began mopping. Once she and Dottie were done with the tasks, they shut off the lights and shut down the ovens, locking up the door behind them as they left for the night. Ellie began driving, passing her own home within ten minutes, but when she turned onto the familiar country road, she didn’t feel anything but excitement and peace wash over her. Turning onto the long, dirt driveway reminded her of so many childhood memories, of bike rides and skinned knees, but the sight of the white farmhouse sitting atop a hill overlooking the Christmas tree farm was nothing short of relief for Ellie. It was home, in every way.

The scent of the pine trees filled her lungs in the most satisfying way possible as she climbed the rickety old stairs to the back door, bumping the door with her hip to get it to close right as she stepped inside. Instantly, she was met with the smell of her mother’s homemade chicken pot pie cooking in the oven and the sound of her baby nephew giggling.

She pulled off her coat, eyes meeting her family’s happy faces smiling at her from around the kitchen island. “Ellie! Honey, we’re so glad you’re here!” Her mother, Diana, cheered, gracefully making her way to wrap Ellie in a tight hug.

“I’m happy to be here,” she admitted to her quietly, squeezing her back just as tightly. Her eyes screwed shut for a moment as she soaked in the familiar comfort of her mother’s hugs, but when she opened them she was glad, as she got to see all of the people she loved looking back at her.

“I can’t believe that now we get to have you at Sunday family dinners,” Diana whispered, before she pulled back and ran her hands up and down Ellie’s arms. “I’m so happy that you’re back here, sweetie.”

“I have to say that it is nice to be able to just get in your car and drive to where you want to go, that’s something I’ve already gotten used to again,” she laughed with a small grin on her face.

“All the animals are happy you’re back! Even grumpy little Bruce,” her father, Brett, spoke, grinning at Ellie as she greeted the black cat purring at her feet.

“And that’s a feat all by itself!” Her older brother, Daniel, laughed, his hand tickling his six-month-old son, Nathan, as his brows pinched, turning back to his younger sister to ask, “Hey, did Brooke end up coming over today?”

Ellie nodded, heading over to the squeaky old cabinet to pull out one of the faded glasses, the same ones she used on Sunday mornings during their pancake breakfasts nearly twenty five years ago. “Yeah she helped me get a lot of the kitchen and living room things unpacked with was amazing. It feels nice to have some of my stuff put away,” she answered, before she moved over to the fridge to fill the glass with water, just as her mother pulled the pie out of the oven.

She watched with a smile as Amanda, her sister-in-law, bounced Nathan on her lap, the baby giving Ellie a gummy grin as their eyes met. Amanda leaned down to press a kiss to Nathan’s blond curls before she straightened up, giving Ellie a smile as she said, “And I’m coming tomorrow to help but I have to bring Nathan so I actually don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

Diana sighed over-dramatically, rolling her eyes as she mentioned, “I guess I’ll just have to come over and play with Nathan while you two unpack.”

“Yeah I’m sure you’ll hate that, Mom,” Danny chuckled, leaning back in the barstool and taking a sip of his wine as he did so.

“It’ll be tough, but I suppose I can do it,” Diana retorted, hiding a smirk in her red wine as she took a sip, before she moved over to cut the pie and told everyone to sit at the table.

The laughter at Diana’s sarcastic comment filled the room as the family all passed around the food, each dishing up what they wanted before settling in for the meal. Ellie mostly stayed silent through a lot of the meal, but this time it wasn’t from the nagging feeling of failure in the back of her head, this time it was from contentment. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed this. Just getting to sit around with her family and talk, hearing their laughter and baby Nathan’s little chatter. While she was in New York working, she had spent any breaks she got here at home but they weren’t as often as she liked. Her family still were all together here and she wasn’t, and sometimes the sadness that it caused was just too much. In fact, that was the other factor of her quitting her job. Not getting to be there for much of her sister-in-law’s pregnancy and only seeing their sweet baby a few times in his six months of life was the final straw for her. She was tired of missing out on being a part of all of their daily lives, just to do a job that she didn’t even like and although starting all over at nearly 30 years old wasn’t ideal, as she sat in the home she grew up in with the people she loved the most, she knew it was the right choice.

A loud voice cut through her thoughts as Ellie chewed on the spinach salad, making her straighten in shock a bit as her mother said, “Ellie, you’re the one who just moved back here and you’ve barely said two words!”

“I know, I just love hearing you guys talk,” she admitted, smiling as her eyes moved over all of her beloved family members. “It really does feel good to be home.”

“Are you missing New York at all or nursing?” Danny asked her quietly, head tilting in curiosity.

She grimaced slightly, shifting uncomfortably. “If I’m being honest… not really,” Ellie admitted.

“I’m not going to lie, I’m glad to hear that because then that means you’ll stay!” Diana laughed, her bright smile lighting up the cramped dining room.

Ellie laughed a bit as she shook her head, reassuring them, “I’m staying, don’t worry. After I quit my job, there wasn’t anything holding me in New York.”

Her father leaned back in the wooden dining chair, looking at Ellie contemplatively as he asked, “What about that really nice guy you were dating…. What was his name?”

“Will,” she supplied, taking a large sip of wine after she did so.

“Yeah, Will!” Amanda remembered, “He’s so sweet!”

Ellie smiled sadly, feeling herself tense as she prepared to tell them what had happened. “He is sweet but we aren’t together anymore. It didn’t end badly, my schedule just didn’t really let us be together hardly at all so we just decided it wasn’t working,” she informed them, watching as their faces fell one by one as the realization sunk in.

“I’m so sorry Ellie, I can’t believe I didn’t realize you weren’t with him anymore,” Amanda apologized, leaning forward and dropping her fork against her plate with a clatter, her face sympathetic as Ellie met her eyes.

“Well we broke up around the time Nathan was born so you had a few other things on your mind,” Ellie reassured her with a shake of her head.

“I guess that just means we’re going to have to be on the lookout for a new boyfriend for you here in town,” Diana chuckled quietly, reaching over and lifting Nathan out of his height chair to sit in her lap.

“Oh I already have a few people I want her to meet,” Amanda laughed, her face breaking into a grin.

“How about you guys let me get my boxes unpacked first?” Ellie groaned, feeling her face flush as she laughed quietly.

“Okay, fine,” her sister-in-law relented before she added, “But I really do have a feeling this is going to be a whole new chapter for you Ellie. And I think it’s going to be really good.”

“I sure hope so,” Ellie mused quietly, staring down at the table as thoughts swirled through her brain. She tried to convince herself that this would be anything less than a decision made out of frustration and emotion, and that this would lead to anything other than further heartbreak. But that was a hard sell for her brain. But she pushed those thoughts to the side, determined to at least try to enjoy the family dinner, knowing there were so many to come around this old wooden table.

A/N: SURPRISE! We couldn't wait to share Ellie any longer! We've been chipping away at her all week and ugh, we love her so much already. We can't wait to reveal some things and have you all learn everything about her, Chris, and everyone else involved! We're not going to be holding ourselves to a strict weekly schedule of posting every Friday, but that is our goal!

[mandoalorian]

sensational

Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Summary: Maxwell is away on a business trip for work, and you’re missing him more than you anticipated.

Word count: 2,2k

Warnings: 18+ smut; guided masturbation, male masturbation, female masturbation, light degradation, edging, orgasm denial, phone sex, long distance after care 🥺

Authors note: I’ve missed writing. So here’s a little something for Maxie cuz I’ve missed him too :( <3

Maxwell had only been gone sixteen hours. He left at 6am, and it was currently: you rolled over to check the time on your bedside alarm clock. 10pm. You frowned, pulling the crushed velveteen blankets up to your chin. He was probably fast asleep now anyway— after the flight and a long day proposing business scheme after business scheme.

You missed him a lot. He promised to call you every morning and every night, so long as he wasn’t swamped at the office. That was his promise and truthfully, you thought you’d be okay. He was only due to be away for a week. You knew a lot of other long-distance couples had it much worse. But being alone in his big suburban house was more isolating than you had ever even considered. It felt empty without him, and it didn’t feel like home anymore.

At least tomorrow you’d get to see Alistair, so that was a plus. You mentally groaned as you remembered how you were going to have to visit Maxwell’s ex-wife in order to pick up his son. She didn’t seem to like you all that too much, and to be honest, you could probably do without the chore of visiting her every Tuesday evening and putting up with her crap. It would be okay though. Alistair was worth it.

Your mind wandered back to your boyfriend. Your smart, handsome and powerful boyfriend with the honey coloured hair and chocolate brown eyes. He was always soft and warm— and a fantastic lover. Not only he was an excellent businessman, but he was also a brilliant father and a wonderful partner. He really was the perfect man for you.

You smiled wickedly to yourself as you remembered last night, and the antics you had both gotten up to before he had to leave in the morning. It was a long, passionate night. Your fingers ghosted over the love bites and bruises that were peppered across your neck and collarbones, and you gasped at the memory, a familiar heat rushing down your body.

If only he was here now… you two could’ve done it all over again.

Your glazed eyes flicked up to the telephone that was on your bedside table. You must’ve been staring at it for a good few minutes, contemplating things. Maxwell had scrawled the number to his hotel room down on a card before he’d left… just in case of an emergency.

You dipped your hand down to your cunt and felt your breathing hitch as you gathered all your slick on your fingers. You hadn’t realised just how wet you’d become.

Just call him. The devil on your shoulder urged. If he was sleeping, you certainly didn’t want to wake him but… surely there was no harm in an innocent goodnight call. At least then, you could hear his warm voice and his articulate words.

Maxwell Lord had you whipped.

Sighing, you took the phone from the hook and dialled his number. He answered on the first two rings.

“Hey honey,” he had a tired lilt to his voice, but just the depth and richness of his tone was enough to set a blaze in your tummy. “I was just about to go to bed,” he continued. “It’s late. Why are you still up?”

Yes, his voice was giving you everything you had desired, and more.

You swallowed thickly, your finger tracing lazy circles over your clit. “Mm couldn’t sleep. Was thinkin’ bout you.” you revealed, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. If you could get off to his voice alone, without having him notice what you were doing, that would be perfect. If he did catch on that you were touching yourself without his permission though… that would be a different story. “Miss you.” you exhaled, your eyes snapping shut.

“I miss you too sweetheart,” Max sighed, and you could faintly hear him shuffle around in his bed, the sheets making a fuzzy noise on the other end of the line. “What— what were you thinking about?”

The question was a trap. You knew Max all too well. He was right to have his suspicions.

You didn’t even bother opening your eyes, and you tried to repress a longing whine as your finger involuntary picked up speed, like some kind of reflex reaction to his question. “S-stuff,” you stammered out when you felt your fingers begin to dampen and slip between your folds. But ‘S-stuff’ was hardly going to be good enough for Maxwell. You dipped two fingers inside you, surprised at how well they were stretching you. “Mm— Max, miss— I miss—“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, already close to pushing your first climax out.

“Princess?” Max asked. “You there?”

Your response was delayed but was followed by a stifled moan that wasn’t lost on Max whatsoever. “Need you.” you gasped out, dropping the phone to your pillow by your head so you could use your other hand to rub yourself.

The friction of your digits rubbing against that sweet spot and the way your index finger and middle finger curled up inside of you was too much. You could feel yourself coming undone.

“Oh,” Max omitted knowingly, unable to contain the small smirk that was crossing his lips. “Oh baby.”

He felt his cock twitch from the faint little whimpers you were making, and he slid his hand under the waistband of his light grey sweats, freeing his already semi-hard erection.

“Tell me princess,” Max hummed. “What ‘stuff’ were you thinking about?”

Fuck. You wanted to curse. He knew. He clearly knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice; probably thinking you were needy and desperate. But you were. You really were and you’d give anything just to feel his hands on you right now.

“S-so much,” you answered, trying your hardest to collect your thoughts for him. “Undressing me. Caressing me. Mm, you playing with my tits like you always do. Kissing them— sucking them. Biting…” you reluctantly pulled your finger from your clit and began to palm at your breasts. “Come home.”

The two words were practically begging him. You ached for him. Your entire body was burning with arousal and you needed him more than you’d ever needed anyone before.

You knew it was a stupid request; and that he couldn’t just ‘come home’. But if you could have one wish— it would be for him to be on top of you right now, smothering you with kisses and whispering dirty little words into your ears.

“M-Max?” your voice was broken as you continued curling your fingers inside of you.

His fingers were wrapped around his own length now, pumping it as he imagined you sprawled out, naked on his king-sized bed. The grey sweats and white shirt had been long discarded onto the floor.

“I’m right here baby,” he assured, gathering the beads of milky white precum and rubbing it up and down his cock. “I’m here. Why— why don’t you take my pillow and grind your pretty pussy over it hm? I know you can get off like that, you dirty girl.”

Another uncontrollable whine omitted from your lips at his light degradation. You followed his orders, knowing better than to disobey. Taking his pillow, you got on your knees and positioned it in between your legs, holding the phone to your ear as you began to thrust your hips.

You imagined it be his lap. You’d rubbed yourself over his thighs plenty of times, making a mess of his designer pants and creating stains not even the drycleaner’s could remove. His pillow still vaguely smelt of his apple scented shampoo and it only spurred you on even more.

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” Maxwell grunted. “My pretty girl. What are you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure rifed through your veins. “I’m your pretty girl.” you confirmed, feeling your cheeks heat up when Max chuckled.

It was a sensation overload— and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last. Maxwell knew too, judging by the way your moans picked up and became jagged. “God— Ma-Mmm—Max,” your thoughts were fuzzy and jumbled as you increased your pace. You wanted to feel something inside of you again. Your fingers or a dildo or— something, anything. But you weren’t even sure if you’d get the chance. “I’m so close,” you warned. “Gonna— gonna cum—“

“No,” Max said darkly, his voice having lowered an octave. “Roll on your back princess, and pull the pillow off you.”

You wanted to cry. You knew he always liked to play these games.

“B—but,” you choked out, wanting to finish and reach your orgasm.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

He was using that scary business voice. The one you often overheard when he was on the phone with partners or associates. Reluctantly you pulled the pillow away from your weeping cunt put it back in its place.

“O-okay,” you mused, wiping the tears that had pricked at the corner of your eyes as you changed position and got comfortable on your back, just like he’d instructed.

“I wish I was with you sweetheart, wish I could fuck your little pussy. How wet are you?”

“Very.” you replied exasperated, desperately waiting for him to let you touch yourself again.

“Show me,” Maxwell smiled wickedly. “Move the phone in between your legs and finger yourself. I want to hear you.”

You frantically followed his instruction and inserted your two fingers inside of you, pushing them deep and curling them upwards so they hit that hot, spongey sweet spot. Your legs were shaking and your back was arched over top of the satin sheets as you panted your boyfriend’s name.

Max was more than thrilled to hear the squelching wet noise that echoed throughout the comfort of yours and his shared bedroom, with every thrust and curl of your fingers. It felt good but… it just wasn’t him.

Now his own broken gasps were audible. You loved to hear him. He always got loud when he was close. That’s how you knew he was about to finish. “So— so good. Sweetest cunt in the whole fuck—fucking world. When I come home I— gonna fuck you so hard.” he promised in between shaky breaths.

Your lips curled into a grin and you arched your back as your slick dipped down the softness of your inner thighs. After all the edging and over stimulation, there was no way you were going to last. This was exactly what you wanted; Max may not have been physically there but his voice alone had always worked wonders.

“Can we— can we cum togeth—“ your request was fuzzled by the way you buried your head into your pillow, feeling a warm flush of heat race to your core.

“Yes,” Max cut you off impatiently. “Are you close?”

“Y-yeah, I don’t think I can hold it—“

“You can baby, you can. I’m going to count down from three and we’ll cum together. Okay?”

You were a screaming sweating mess at this point, and his countdown couldn’t have felt any slower. Three seconds felt like three years as you mustered all your will to obey him.

“Three, two, one—“

He didn’t even say zero. The countdown was followed by a long groan falling from his lips as his milky white seed spilt all over his fist and his tummy. His cry pushed you over the edge and you released your own climax, spasming and shaking on his side of the bed.

You curled up under his sheets, still shaky, and pulled the phone back to your ear. “Hi,” you whispered sheepishly. “That was good.” you bit down on your lip, smiling to yourself. Your own voice was a little hoarse from all the moaning and whimpering.

“Yeah,” Max agreed, smiling himself. “Are you okay?”

“I’m tired,” you admitted with a huff, relishing in his cologne scented blankets.

“Wish I was there to clean you up,” Max sighed, and for a split second, he pondered the consequences of catching the next flight home.

He always took care of you after sex, paying a meticulous amount of detail to how you acted after your moments of shared intimacy. He’d fetch you water and wipe away any mess with a warm wash cloth. Sometimes he’d even help you into some cozy pyjamas or one of his shirts.

“I can go clean myself up, don’t worry about me,” you hummed in contentment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect baby,” he grinned “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“I can let you go—“

“No,” you cut him off, clutching onto the phone not wanting him to leave. Yeah you’d missed the amazing sex but truthfully, you’d missed him the most. “Can we uhm, can we just stay here on the phone together? Fall asleep together? I— I want you to be there when you wake up.”

Max hesitated for a moment, but he didn’t see a problem with your request. In fact, he thought it was a wonderful idea.

“Yeah, of course honey,” he replied softly. “I’m gonna go wipe myself down. You should do the same.”

“O-okay,” you sniffed. “I love you. I won’t be long.”

When you returned, Max was already waiting for you. “Princess?” he called, when he heard you shuffle back into bed.

“Hiya,” you giggled, rubbing your eyes. “I’m sleepy.” you admitted, your statement followed by a yawn.

Max chuckled. “Has my girl worn herself out?”

You laughed and nodded your head. “Yeah.”

“Okay sweetheart, let’s go sleep.” Max hummed, resting the phone by his pillow and closing his eyes.

“Okay, good night Maxie.” you mused softly.

“Good night honey.” He returned, before you both fell asleep.

——————

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[flowerpowelltales]

Like Fall, Like Spring (Drake x MC)

PART ONE

A/N: So just a heads up - I planned for the series to be rather angsty (I guess ‘tis the season) and also short. Basically, everything here follows canon - up till the point where they all reach Walker Ranch. After that, it’s just my crazy imagination and canon doesn’t exist. Let me know if you’re interested in reading more. Characters belong to PixelBerry. 

Texas smelled like fall and to Riley, fall always smelled like endings and new beginnings at the same time.

Riley looked at her husband laughing over something Maxwell pointed in the family album. His eyes automatically locked with hers; he did it all the time. Whenever he was laughing he would look at her to see if she found that something funny as well. She smiled at him and he went back to looking at the old photographs. Everyone was sitting around the fireplace and watching the photo album Bianca brought; Savanah was telling the stories of her and Drake’s childhood while Drake tried to convice everyone Savanah was lying. He looked so happy and that made her broken. 

How did they even come to that point?

~~~~

TWO WEEKS AGO

“It’s Texas baby!” Maxwell yelled as they were getting out of the car. 

“Technically, we have been in Texas for at least two hours, now we’ve just come to the Walker Ranch,” Hana clarified.

“Welcome home,” Drake whispered to Riley’s ear and she chuckled.

“I’m so happy to see your childhood home! And for the stories of little Drake! And to see Bianca again. And to meet your aunt, of course!”

“You’ll get plenty of that and then some more.” He kissed her temple and took her hand. 

“Can’t wait.” She snuggled into him as they entered Drake’s childhood home. To say she was excited was an understatement. She already knew most of Drake’s family - and she adored both Savannah and Bianca. Most importantly, they adored Riley as well. Having no real family, it was important for Riley to be accepted into Drake’s. She hoped his aunt Leona would be just as kind and nice as the rest of the family.

~~~~

“Mom?”

“Drakey! Riley! You’re here!” Bianca ran towards them and pulled them both into a hug. “How was the flight? I thought you wouldn’t arrive before eight.”

“Surprisingly, there was no traffic in the air,” Drake replied and Bianca rolled her eyes. 

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” She asked Riley.

“I’m doing very well, thank you. I couldn’t wait to see the Ranch, Drake told me so much about it.”

“Just wait ‘till you’ll see his old bedroom. I haven’t changed a single thing, you might change your mind about marrying my son.”

“Very funny Mom.” This time it was Drake who rolled his eyes. Riley pinched him playfully.

“Don’t worry, Bianca, nothing will ever make me change my mind.”

~~~~

Riley was watching Drake as he was unpacking their suitcases. Even though they were in Texas only for a couple of hours, he looked happy and visibly relaxed - a rare sight ever since becoming a Duke. Yes, he was happy but he hardly ever was relaxed. 

I guess that’s what our families and childhood homes do to us. They make us feel safe and happy. They make us feel whole again. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” She heard Drake’s voice from above her head as he pulled her into a hug from behind.

“Just admiring the view. And I meant your bedroom, not you this time,” she said as Drake pouted. 

“And what do you think?”

“I think it’s lovely. Everything is lovely. The entire house looks so... cozy. So warm. Like a place where happiness is born.”

“I had a great childhood. Mom, Dad, Sav and Aunt Leona, the house was always full of people. But...” he paused to kiss her head, “now that you’re here with my my happiness is finally completed. It doesn’t get better than... this.”

Riley heard the hesitation in his voice. She knew what he thought about. She thought the same. A child would make them even happier. They had been trying for some time but it still didn’t happen. However, they were still young and had time. For the time being, Riley didn’t mind giving all her attention to her husband.

~~~~

“Drake!” A woman, his aunt as Riley presumed, ran into Drake’s open arms. She was even shorter than Bianca and looked very happy to see her nephew. 

“Aunt Leona, I missed you.” He kissed the woman on both cheeks before turning to Riley and gesturing her.

“This is Riley, my wife. Riley, this is Aunt Leona.”

“I’m so happy to finally meet you, Aunt Leona!” Riley opened her arms to give the woman a hug but Leona took a step back and smiled faintly.

“Ms. Leona and thank you. I’ve been curious about you, too.” She extended her hand and Riley shook it, slightly taken aback. 

“She’s always a little wary when meeting strangers, don’t worry,” Drake whispered when he notied his wife’s face.

Okay, but I’m not a stranger. I’m your wife. She could’ve been a bit more friendlier.

Riley nodded and felt guilty for criticizing Aunt Leona in her head. Drake was like that, too when they met. She just needed to give her more time. It would get better. 

~~~~

It did not get any better. Not the next day, not the day after, not even after a week. Riley still had to call Aunt Leona “Ms. Leona”. The woman clearly kept her distance, never smiling at Riley or engaging in any conversations with her. Drake, Bianca and even Savannah kept telling Riley that Leona was a bit grumpy and it would take a while for her to adjust and Riley wanted to be patient. It was hard, however. She wanted to be accepted so bad that it felt like a personal failure when Aunt Leona didn’t even want to look at her. Even worse, she had no problems with looking at Bertrand or even talking to him. It was Riley she had a problem with and Riley was determined to solve it. 

After finding out how much Aunt Leona loved apple pies, Riley decided to wake up extra early to bake one. When the pie was out of the oven, she heard Leona entering the kitchen.

“Good morning!” Riley greeted the woman.

“Mornin’. Didn’t expect you to be up so early.”

Riley glanced at the clock. It was already eight; it wasn’t so early anyway. Leona noticed it and added quickly:

“Usually nobility wakes up at noon.”

Riley frowned. “I’m not a noble. I used to work in a restaurant and I had to wake up even earlier than that at times.”

“Mhm.”

“I made apple pie for you! Drake told me how much you love it and I decided to use my Nana’s receipe for this.”

Riley didn’t know her parents at all - but she did know her grandma. Her Nana was the best person in Riley’s life, she was like a mother, father and both grandparents to her. She died when Riley was only ten years old but Riley kept all her memories alive. And that famous apple pie she made for Riley every fall was one of them.

Aunt Leona sniffed the pie and flinched. 

“What apples did you use?”

“Honey Crisp. I always use them and--”

“I hate them. Too sweet for me. Apple pie must be as sour as it possibly can be. You can eat the whole thing.”

Riley swallowed back her tears and she nodded politely. 

“I know what you’re trying to do, Riley. It won’t work. Save your time and stop.”

“I don’t understand--”

“I will never accept you. I can be civil towards you for Drake’s sake but I’ll never accept someone who ruined his life.”

Riley’s eyes widened. “I-- did what??”

“You might have fooled the whole family, but you haven’t fooled me. You made my little boy miserable and if I were you, I’d stay away.”

And with that, she got out of the kitchen, leaving Riley with too many unwanted thoughts. 

TRR/DRAKE TAGS: @mymandrake @butindeed @thequeenofcronuts @burnsoslow @annekebbphotography​ @alesana45 @addictiedtodrakefanfic @walkerduchess @texaskitten30 @iaminlovewithtrr​ @mskaneko​ @gardeningourmet​ @delightfullypinkglitter​ 

*if you want off or on please let me know*

[forever-rogue]

Could you do “After everything you did, you’re asking ME to apologize for snapping at you ONCE?” with Maxwell? Congrats on your milestone!!

Thank you! I hope you like it 🥺💕

Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader ; warnings: none

Pedro Characters Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

"When's Daddy coming home?" Alistair asked as he sat at the dinner table, picking at the remaining vegetables on his plate. You reached over and ruffled his dark hair affectionately as he sighed heavily, "I thought things would be different now."

"They will, my love," you promised him, hoping that Maxwell would walk through the door at any time now. It was getting late, and soon you'd be putting your small ward to bed. Maxwell had taken a liking to doing it lately, but it seemed that work had once again caught up with him. At least this time it was honest work...but still. The young boy missed his father - hell, he was just your boss but you missed him as well. 

"Then where is he?" he pushed back from the table and stood up, bringing his plate to the kitchen, "I just want to play with him."

"I know, baby," you stood and pulled him into a tight hug, hoping a tickle at his side would cheer him up. It only momentarily brought a smile to his face before he hung his head, "I thought he loved me."

"Hey, hey, hey," you put your hand under his chin and turned his face up so he was looking into your eyes, "Alistair, he loves you more than anything in this world. He wants to do his best for you. He's still trying to figure out everything with his new job and balancing it all. But don't ever doubt that you are his world."

"Okay," he nodded quietly, trying to keep his lip from trembling. Your heart broke at the sight and you couldn't help yourself as you wrapped your arms around him and picked up. Alistair wrapped his arms around your neck as he burrowed his face into your neck, prompting you to run his back in soothing circles, "I wish you could just be my mom. Daddy loves you too, it should be just us all the time."

"Oh baby," you stilled at his words, your breath getting caught in your throat at his declaration. Surely he had to have it backwards - you loved Maxwell, not the other way around. There was no way...you were just the nanny. But it still didn't stop you from loving Alistair or his father. You hadn't meant for it to happen...it just had. Closing your eyes, you pressed a kiss to the side of his head, "I love you too. So much. Hey, what do you say we put on a movie and have some ice cream? Sound like a plan, little man?”

“With whipped cream and sprinkles?” he asked with wide eyes as you nodded before getting him back down. His little spirit seemed to perk up at the idea almost instantly.

“You go and pick out a movie and get some blankets, and I’ll get us both some ice cream,” he took his task to heart before nodding and sprinting to the living room. Sighing lightly, you walked into the kitchen and reached into the freezer, pulling out a carton of his favorite flavor, pleased that something possessed you to buy the other day. If nothing else, it would get his mind off of Maxwell for a little while, and hopefully he’d even find solace in sleep and be out like a light before he noticed that Maxwell wasn’t home. You hated leaving like you were manipulating him with a few simple pleasures, but you were spending the time with him because you loved him too. 

Grabbing two bowls from the cabinet, you filled them up and topped them off with all of his favorite things before bringing them to the living room and settling down with Alistair. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was late by the time the movie was finished, and Alistair had fallen asleep on your lap, passed out from his activities and his bowl of ice cream. You slowly sat up, making sure not to jostle him as you scooped him into your arms and took down the hall to his bedroom. He didn’t even stir as you tucked him, making sure he was warm with blankets and had his favorite stuffed bear with him. 

“Good night, my little love,” you whispered before flicking off the light and closing the door almost completely. Making quick work of cleaning up the living room, you walked into the kitchen and started to wash the dishes when you finally heard the door open and close. 

You barely glanced up, finding an exhausted Maxwell coming in, dropping his briefcase by the door and loosening his tie. He let out a long sigh of relief when he saw you, coming in and leaning against the counter.

“Where were you?” your voice was bitter and laced with venom as you grabbed a dishrag and wiped down your wet hands before turning to him. You hadn’t meant to be so bitter and biting, but in some ways, he was deserving of it, “you were supposed to be home hours ago.”

“I caught up at work…” he could immediately tell you were upset, as he shrank away lightly, almost if trying to disappear. You threw the rag at him and shook your head.

“That’s not good enough, Max,” you insisted sharply, “not anymore. He needs you Max, we need you here, and he...he loves you so much. He just wants to spend time with you, he adores you so much.”

“I-I know!” he snapped back as he covered his face with hands, “I’m trying! You just need to relax and calm down!”

“After everything you did, you’re asking me to apologize for snapping at you once?” you raised your eyebrows at him, crossing your arms over your chest as you refused to back down. It was probably out of line to speak to your boss in such a manner, but you didn't care; you just wanted the best for your two loves and sometimes that required a firm hand, "Max...I know you're trying, so hard. But sometimes all you need to do is be here. Alistair doesn't care about your title or income or anything, you know he doesn't. He just wants his father. That's all."

"I continue to disappoint him...and you," he brushed back his locks, now almost entirely back to their dark brown color, a sign that be was slowly becoming more true to himself, and let out a world weary sigh, "I just want...I want the world for him, for the both of you."

"Max, you are his world," you put your on his shoulder, almost without thinking and gave him a gentle squeeze, "nothing else matters. So what if you work a few less hours? Its a little less money maybe, but the reward? Its so much greater - time with your son. Your son that thinks you are everything and loves you unconditionally. Do it for yourself...and him."

"I know," he agreed quietly as he shifted his gaze onto yours, "I suppose I still have a lot to learn. I want everything for him. And for you. I will try my best to do better."

"That's all it is, Maxwell," you pulled back from him, feeling something shift between the two of you. It had been there for a long time, you both knew it had been, but it was like it was suddenly coming to the surface, "step by step, one day at a time. You missed movie and ice cream night. He knocked pretty early on into the movie so he doesn't know you weren't home."

"Thank you," he gave you an appreciative grin as you nodded, swallowing the lump that had welled up in your throat, "for everything. And not just tonight...you're always amazing."

"I'm just doing my job," your face flushed with warmth as you hoped he would be able to see or hear the wild beating of your heart as it slammed against your ribcage, "I love him...Alistair is a wonderful kid."

And I'm in love with you.

"He loves you too," Maxwell took a step closer, brushing a few stray locks of hair out of your face. It was an innocent gesture, but enough to send sparks throughout your chest whole body, "I-"

"I should go," you quickly interrupted him before anything else could happen, unsure if you were ready to cross that threshold and enter uncharted territory just yet. He offered you a curious look as you stepped back and gave him a tight lipped smile, "its late...I'll finish cleaning up tomorrow when I come back after taking Alistair to school."

"Why don't you just stay?" he suggested softly, pointing in the direction of the spare bedroom down the hall. You'd stayed there on several occasions before, when Max had to work late for one reason or another, and kept a few spare clothes in there, "it might be easier than going home and coming back…"

"Maxwell…" you took a breath before letting it slowly, finding him watching you curiously, "I shouldn't...really."

"And just why is that?" his own heart felt like a stampede of horses as he tried to cut to the chase without being so direct. He just wanted to hear you say it, wanted that bit of sweet reassurance that he wasn't the only one feeling like this, "honey…"

"We both know why," you stared at the tile on the floor and shrugged lightly, "and I don't want to mess anything up, Maxwell. I love Alistair and want to continue to be a part of its life and I don't know if that could happen if…"

"We've been playing pretend for some time now," he whispered, whether or not it was for you to hear, you weren't sure, "playing at pretending to be a family, but like we don't love each other."

"Maxwell," his name was easy off your lips, and the sound of it set his whole body on fire, "I've been a part of your family for so long, I don't want to do anything to lose Alistair."

"You won't," he promised as you nodded, "I swear it. You have been a better mother to him than his own flesh and blood, you have kept this family together, you have shown us so much love. Showed us that it is okay to be imperfect as long as we're trying our best. And in that time...I've fallen in love with you."

"You...what?" you looked at him with wide, confused eyes as he nodded. Your heart had dropped into your stomach and then fluttered back up at his works. He watched you with a small smile as you tried to piece everything together, "you love me?"

"I'm in love with you."

"Maxwell...please...please don't say something you don't mean," your expression was incredulous as he came closer, putting his hand under chin and turning your face towards him, "only say it if you mean it."

"I mean it," he swore gently, "you have been the best part of my life along with Alistair. You've loved him - us - and you don't let me get away with anything. I don't know where we'd be without you. I...I want with us, always, but not as a nanny or a friend...as mine."

"Maxwell," you blinked back a few tears at his words. You knew he'd once been all but a smooth talking con man, but this? This was real - genuine - and you could see it was coming straight from his heart, "I-I love you too. You and Alistair. More than anything else."

"May I...may I kiss you?" the two of you had subconsciously gotten closer, leaving barely any space between your bodies. You nodded, slowly, surely, as he put his large hands on your face, brushing over your cheeks with his thumbs as he breathed you in.

Before you knew it, he closed the distance and pressed his lips to yours, almost hesitantly as if he was testing the waters. You smiled against his lips before wrapping your arms around his neck and holding him close. This felt right, natural, as his arms found purchase on your waist and he deepened the kiss. 

You moved against him, relishing in his touch, his feel, completely lost in him when-

"Daddy!" Alistair's voice caused you both to pull apart as the young boy grinned at him before running over, "you're home!"

"Hi baby," he leaned and effortlessly picked him and clutched him a fierce hug, "I'm sorry I was late. I...I will do my best to be better. For you."

"I love you," he grinned at his father before burrowing his face in his neck, "I'm glad you're home."

"Me too," he agreed, "me too. But for now, lets get you back to bed."

"Okay," he agreed, wrapping his small arms around his neck, "will you be here in the morning?"

You looked at him in surprise as Maxwell turned to look at you as well, a cheeky little grin on his face. You couldn't help but beamed back at your boys, "yes, I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," it was a unanimous declaration from both of them.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[imaginarydesires]

Pedro Pascal

Character Preferences

Kinks ♡

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, elements of BDSM

Notes: gender-neutral! I hope you heathens enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3

❥ Dave York

Sadism. After a long day of work, he loves to take his anger out on you - and he loves how much you want him to take his anger out on you. He'll lay you over his lap and make you count how many spanks you get. He doesn't stop until you're bruised. Then he'll fuck you until you have tears streaming down your face. He loves the next day, too, when you send him texts complaining about how hard it is to sit down.

❥ Din Djarin

Cockwarming. He spent most of his life touch-starved, so he loves to have as much contact with you as possible. And what makes you closer to someone than literally being inside of them?

Breeding. This is the Way. The thought of you pregnant with his child is almost enough to make him cum right there and then. It's well known Mandalorian's are expected to pass down the Way of Mandalore - and that's what he thinks about every time he fills you with his cum.

❥ Ezra Prospect

Edging & Overstimulation. He loves to take his time with you and worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped. He wants to have complete control over you and be in charge of how many times and when you finish. He'll edge you over and over again until you're a whimpering mess, desperately begging him for release. And then he'll make you cum over and over again until you're crying and begging him to stop. He wants you to feel completely ruined by the time he is done with you. Another reason this is his favorite is because he loves how needy you are when he finishes shattering you. He is the absolute best at aftercare. He'll hydrate you and kiss you sweetly as you cling to his side needing the tender affection.

❥ Frankie “Catfish” Morales

Thigh Riding. When you just straddle him and grind against him until you finish, he is almost as much of a mess as you are. He has to try not to dampen his jeans just from watching you.

Praise. He loves being told how good he is for you. It adds to his motivation and just makes him feel so damn good about himself. He becomes confident and will do anything he can to make you continue to praise him. If you tell him he's big and filling you perfectly, he's trying to find another position to stretch you even more. If you tell him you love his mouth, he's digging his tongue in deeper.

❥ Jack "Whiskey" Daniel

Bondage. Specifically with a lasso, of course. Not his work one because he doesn't want it accidently going electric, but one very similar. He loves tying you up in general, but the reason he wants it to be with a lasso is because he loves the way you stare at his when in public. During missions or at Statesman's meetings, if he pulls out his lasso, he knows you're thinking about your hands being wrapped in it and it drives him crazy. Especially when you awkwardly shift in your seat, rubbing your thighs together to create any amount of friction to help sedate your heat. No one else may know why you're so flustered, but he takes full advantage of your moment of weakness. He'll play with the rope in his hands, kneading it into knots the same way he would if he had your wrists bounded. Everyone may think he's absentmindedly fidgeting, but you know he's thinking the same thoughts you are.

Whip. For the exact same reason as the lasso, except with the whip he also loves to watch you struggle to maintain composure as you sit on your sore ass the next day.

❥ Javier Peña

Biting. It's like a natural instinct to him. When he's fucking you, he just wants to bite into you and leave little love marks anywhere he can. He loves the way you naturally expose your neck to him and how your instantly moan more when he bites down on you.

He's really not that kinky - sorry

❥ Marcus Moreno

DDLG. He is well past just a simple daddy kink. He wants to be called daddy all of the time. He loves to call you his little girl/boy. He wants to take care of you. He loves when you ask him for things with your little puppy dog eyes, or when you get obnoxiously needy for him and practically beg him to touch you. And don't even get me started on how much he loves when you wear thigh-high socks and a short skirt.

❥ Max Phillips

Biting. An obvious one perhaps, but the feeling of feeding while finishing is a completely different level of orgasmic, for both parties involved. If you consent, you'll have bite marks everywhere by the time he is finished with you.

Blood. Another obvious. He loves the way you look when your skin is stained crimson, especially knowing he is the cause of it. (And I'm not going into details but... period blood. That's all I'm saying.)

Primal. He assumed it was a side effect of becoming a vampire - a literal predator - but he loves primal play. He loves when you try to run or hide from him because he knows he'll find you, and when he does, you're his for the taking. "Baby, I know you're here. I can hear your heart beat. Fuck -- I can smell your arousal, you dirty little slut. I'm going to find you, and when I do, I'm going to taste you in every sense of the word."

❥ Maxwell Lord

Voyeurism / Exhibitionism. Fucking on his desk? Sign him the fuck up. Letting everyone in the room over listen to your pretty moans as he fucks you into oblivion? Sign him the fuck up. He wants people to know you're his, and he wants people to know you are getting fucked good. When there's people around, he's rougher, faster, harder - he's anything that will make you scream out his name. He even loves making you wear toys in public that he controls so he can watch you try to contain your orgasms.

Sadism. Spanking is his favorite past time. There are days he'll look for things he can punish you for, just so he can bend you over his desk and strike your ass until it's bright red. He loves you being completely at his will, eagerly awaiting the next hit. He'll make your ass nice and sore and then spend the rest of the day gently rubbing it at any chance he gets.

❥ Oberyn Martell

Voyeurism / Exhibitionism. He is very open with his sexuality, and he loves when you are, too. If you sit in his lap and kiss his neck while he's busy, he will lose his fucking mind. Especially if you ignore the stares of others while you tease him. If you straddle him and ride his thigh, not caring about other eyes on you as you whisper in his ear how badly you need him. You are guaranteed an immediate reaction, and you are guaranteed to cum multiple times. He also loves watching you with others, specifically Ellaria. He is perfectly content sitting in the corner of the room stroking himself while you and Ellaria fuck.

Pegging / Bottoming. The hardest you had ever seen him cum was when you and Ellaria decided to top him. He was a whining, begging mess, and he loved every second of it.

❥ Pero Tovar

Degradation. He's rough - physically and with his tongue. He is calling you every name in the book as he pounds into you. You are usually his "little whore" or "filthy slut" - but once he can see tears well in your eyes, he'll be sweeter - praising and degrading you at the same time. "You take my cock so well, hermosa. You're my good whore, aren't you? So fucking desperate for me like a perfect little slut."

[pitaparka]

when you want him to choke you headcanons

note — NSFW. this bitch is kinky. obviously. lost of choking references, a little breathplay at the end there. all of the boys are willing in one way or another because pedro plays them, alright?? i believe in my heart that that man is kinky as hell. good morning and good night. happy superbowl. fuck you tom brady. big love to every one else besides tom brady <3

warnings: choking, penetrative sex, breathplay

MANDO

- is stunned

- you want him... to do what??

- excuse me??

- choke you?? like, with his hands??

- in the heat of the moment you guide his huge, bare hand to the softness of your throat

- he can feel the vibrations of your whimpers against the webbing of his hand and he almost blows his load right then and there

- the idea that he can wreck you like that gets him excited

- the first few times it gets his adrenaline pumping, but then he really starts to want to get closer to you, pull you in closer, fuck you on his lap in the cockpit while the baby naps in the pod

- he finds it interesting, all of these kinks, and never gets bored of them, but he's a simple man

- he's just glad you want to share these experiences with him and provide such a stable source of pleasure for him in his life that used to be so devoid of it

EZRA

- finds it quite hard to choke you with one hand, but willing to oblige you

- he's afraid of putting too much weight on your neck, so he refuses to do it in any position where he doesn't have much control

- but he ends up getting really into it

- he finds it so arousing, the dubious nature of it

- he likes the idea of being so in control of you, being able to control your breaths, your breathing

- he quite literally has your life in his hands, and it gets him rock hard

- he likes to control your moans, cut them off with his hand while you're riding him, pretending like you two have to be quiet

- will definitely ask you to let him do it again sometime

FRANKIE

- frankie is a little taken aback when you ask

- but you're so needy, mewling and whimpering underneath him

- he squeezes your jaw hard, and presses his mouth to it

- his husky voice reverberates against your nerves, and his lips move passionately across your skin before his hand moves to tilt your head up for better access

- it's like he can read your mind

- just the right pressure, just the right grasp, and can easily read when it starts to become uncomfortable

- he loves the way you anchor yourself to him by grabbing his wrist, pushing him in closer and pulling him back when it becomes too much

- communication is super important for him, so being able to gauge when he's getting too into it and what kinds of pressure you like are vital

- he loves the way you moan when he does it, so eventually, he's going to ask you to do it to him as well

WHISKEY

- a bit more vanilla than you'd expect from someone so forward, but is interested in this particular kink you have

- he'll trace the shell of your ear with his fingers, brush the side of your jaw, play with you lower lip, before cupping his hand lightly to your throat

- he likes to see how you fit so well in his hand, the way you gasp and shudder for him when he forces your chin up to look him in the eye

- the way his lip curls up when he realizes how smitten you are for him, the way he could tell you to do anything and you'd probably do it with the heat of his hand flush against your neck

- you have to show him how to do it properly, in order to not crush your windpipe, but he gets the hang of it swiftly enough

- is very possessive, and WILL allude to it in public

- he'll wrap his arm around your shoulders, and brush his fingers up against your neck

- he'll say you have something on your neck and go to wipe it away, his fingers splayed down the side of it

- he smiles when he sees your goosebumps, and you know you're in for it when you get home

JAVIER PEÑA

- he likes to kiss you with his hand wrapped around your neck

- to feel your heartbeat through your throat

- if it speeds up when he does it, he knows he's doing something right

- when he takes you from behind, he likes tugging on your hair, wrapping a hand securely around your throat so you know you're not going anywhere

- he really likes it, actually

- he loves the feeling of pressing you impossibly closer into him

- he likes to admire your beautiful throat, when your chest is pressed up against his and he's fucking up into you

- he'll grab your hair at the roots, and pull back on it, to wrap his fingers securely around the base of your throat, keeping you there

- his hands find every erogenous part of you they can, so to have one more spot he knows he can get you off with, that's all the more pleasure from javi

MARCUS MORENO

- he laughs mischievously when you ask him to do it

- he likes to get your blood rushing to all the hottest parts of you first

- he plants wet kisses to your neck, his nose pressing hard into your skin

- the way you heat up for him, and get so excited when he does it

- his free hand finds a way between your thighs and the other one curls around your throat

- it's great for when you're getting too loud and he's afraid you'll wake missy or alert the neighbors, even

- he loves listening to you pant heavily after you're done

- he also loves feeling you dig your nails into his back when you orgasm and his hand is wrapped around your throat

- those scratches aren't terribly difficult to hide, and the idea that you've marked him up as yours is reward enough for indulging in your requests

MARCUS PIKE

- will be the most reluctant, as nobody has ever asked this of him before

- he's scared of hurting you, but you seem to get really into it

- he's in awe of you when you push his hand harder and harder into your neck, moaning and whimpering soft and broken from underneath his grip

- he's not actually the one in charge here, but with his hand wrapped around your windpipe, her certainly feels like he is

- he doesn't want to leave bruises, and definitely checks up on you after the sex or the make out session

- you tell him that he doesn't have to worry as much, but that doesn't give him peace of mind

- it's only when you gently introduce him to the receiving end of it does he understand

- he doesn't like it as much as when you're writing and moaning underneath him, but he figures that if you like it, and he's really not hurting you, he doesn't mind you wrapping his fingers around your neck sometimes

MAX PHILLIPS

- max has always loved your neck, nipping at it, leaving hickeys, pressing his fingers into the pliable skin there

- so when you beg him to choke you, to force all the air out of your chest, to wrap his long fingers around your throat

- he doesn't need to be told twice

- he loves it so much, he starts doing it without needing to be asked

- he presses you up against a wall, or pins you to the bed, and squeezes just enough for you to just barely be able to breathe

- he fucks hard when he chokes you

- you swear you almost pass out when he does it, but he allows you to pull his hands back if he's getting too rough

- he likes to feel your hands wrapped around his throat too, mainly because he doesn't need to breathe, so seeing you fall apart on top of him, seeing your hands wrapped around such a delicate piece of him, squeezing as hard as you can as you ride out your orgasm

- he loves nothing more than orgasms, necks, and good business. and two out of three isn't bad

MAXWELL LORD

- he frames your face with his hands, thumbs tracing your cheeks, and you almost melt at his soft touch

- maxwell is usually quite eager, but gentle in the best ways

- the best part about when he chokes you and fucks you at the same time, is that he subconsciously squeezes in time with each of his thrusts

- his arm frames your head and his face is so close you yours and you just can't help trying to moan around his hand

- he loves loves loves hearing you moan, so usually he'll let up to allow them to escape your mouth

- but then he's right back on it, because he knows that the more he does it, the closer you'll get, and the louder you'll be

- his rings dig marks into your neck, but you love the cold contrast to the warmth of his fingers

OBERYN MARTELL

- will most definitely choke you if you ask him to

- he likes to have you demonstrate for him just exactly how you like it

- your breath hinges in your throat when he takes your hand in his, and presses it underneath his jaw, right above his adams apple

- and you press into his neck and his eyes narrow before he take you and pushes you down onto whatever surface is closest so he can fuck you

- he lights a fire in your core that's impossible to extinguish without him

- he likes to come up from behind you, wrap his hand around your throat, and shove his hand into your pants or up your dress or around whatever you're wearing

- and he loves to feel you push back against him when he does it

- he knows he's got you right where he wants you in that case

- his fingers flex around your throat and he tries to cover as much area at once

- he believes in allowing you to be as loud as you want, since he wants all of dorne to know how good of a lover he is

- but if his fingers are wrapped around your throat, he doesn't mind swallowing all of your moans in a kiss

PERO TOVAR

- tries to choke you out with two hands at first

- you really gotta slow him down and show him the ropes

- sometimes he gets excited about it, other times he's less enthusiastic

- but he loves pleasing you, deep down inside that cold heart of his

- which is why he obliges the request

- once he gets the hang of it, its over for you bitches

- he's up in your ear, panting and whispering dirty things, downright filthy things

- and he squeezes your neck tightly, his fingers wrapped snugly around your throat

- you swear his one hand almost wraps the entire way around, his fingers are so long

- he prefers fast and dirty sex, so this kind of kink is right up his alley

- especially because of how rough he can be with you

- when you two get close, he starts squeezing tighter and tighter, until you almost cant breathe, and your release, when he finally lets go, is one of the best orgasms you've ever had

- which is how pero accidentally discovers his breathplay kink

[ironmandeficiency]

pedro boys + spending habits

word count: fuck if i know, wrote it thru the app

characters: din, marcus m, dave, pero, marcus p, oberyn, max, frankie, whiskey, maxwell, javier, ezra

a/n: idk what caused this to happen but it works i guess. hope they make sense

✨support my ko-fi✨

trust him with your money, your drink, your social security number, everything:

din. this man is barely scraping by on his own when you first meet him. when he adds the kid to the mix, he gets even more frugal than he already is with an old as sin ship that many people are surprised to see fly. he will have a policy of “you earn it, you choose what to do with it” and since he goes after most of (if not all) the bounties to keep you all alive, he has the final say in how most of the credits are spent. he does want you to have nice things though, so he makes sure to configure the budget to where you don’t have to pour your credits into the group’s survival money very often. it’s the least he can do. he’s very big on taking care of his people and will show that in small ways.

marcus m. he’s a single dad for a significant amount of time, he has no choice but to be responsible with his money. he has to take care of missy, keep them both fed and housed and healthy, and that’s not even touching on how expensive all of high school graduation and college will be once she gets there. he teaches missy very early in life how important money is bc he doesn’t want her to ever know how it feels to not have enough. he makes a considerable amount of money w the heroics tho so he can afford to responsibly splurge on you both, but not constantly. is very cautious abt the splurging becoming a habit

dave. yeah he may be a murderer, but he’s scary great at managing his money (to continue being able to murder). he’s got his ex wife’s alimony (that still pisses him off but that’s another story) and two girls he takes care of, there’s no other choice for him either. there’s never a worry about dave having a midlife crisis and spending money on some stupid dad thing (like a motorcycle or assless chaps or a country club membership) because he murders to keep his mind off that sort of stuff. files his taxes diligently every year the day tax season starts and will pass this wisdom to the girls.

pero. he’s very good at judging if you need something or not. if it can’t feed you, keep you healthy, kill someone, or protect you, you don’t need to buy it. definitely not a man who indulges in trinkets and frivolous things that do nothing but weigh down his horse and his person. will encourage this way of thinking with whoever travels with him to whatever extent he can, but won’t be a dick about it if you have something sentimental on your person. if it’s a necessity, he will splurge on a bed and bath at an inn but not much else for a while. cheap because he has to be

marcus p. i don’t think i have to explain this one so i won’t. no i’m not being lazy who said that?

maybe you’ll be fine if he’s in charge. maybe:

oberyn. being a prince (and himself), there are different ways this could go. he spends his money frivolously at brothels & on his daughters + other loved ones (as well as other luxuries) and doesn’t really seem to be the type to keep tabs on it all as he goes. but... he’s a prince in a prosperous kingdom and so there isn’t really a worry for money. he’s known as the red viper for many reasons, including his clever nature and the ease with which he can get what he wants thru whatever means necessary. if you want for something that he can’t buy, you know he will find a way to get it for you (which can be a problem sometimes).

max. he’s good with money in the sense of perpetuating capitalism — that’s the red flag here. hell, he’s gonna be investing into bitcoin and who knows what stock market bs & bc it’s max, of course you trust him. max can’t control the stock market tho, so sometimes things are a little iffy. it always evens itself out though, and you make sure in the future that he invests his money instead of your joint money. he’s still gonna share anyways, it just helps you have a little more peace of mind.

frankie. he just wants to take care of you, okay? you can’t fault him for that 🥺 he maneuvers his budget around to make sure he can do all these nice things for you while leaving his own needs unchecked, which isn’t okay. he just wants to provide for the ppl he loves the best he can, but the problem begins when he starts to think he isn’t doing enough. his insecurity & lack of self-worth (fueled by his guilt for “not being everything you deserve”) is what makes him agree to the Trip™️ in the first place. once he comes back & sees you frantic, only wanting him home and not giving a flying fuck about the money, does he realize that you’re devoted to him and not what he can do for you.

whiskey. working for statesman made him forget what things really cost bc he suddenly never had to worry again about not having enough money. being with someone that isn’t practically made of money will snap him back into reality. he looks at his bank statements and his balance occasionally, but our big spender cowboy hasn’t really counted money as something he worries about for a while. when he constantly showers you in expensive gifts (only the best for his baby, that’s his motto) and you tell him that he has to not do that bc he’ll go broke, he plays it off because he doesn’t remember having to worry. separate bank accounts are only because you want to make sure your money is being spent smartly (even though jack has offered constantly to pay for literally anything you need).

don’t give him anything you want to see again:

maxwell. as much as i love this dork, he’s absolute shit with money. when his business is falling apart (bc he made the stupid ass decision to buy the oil rigs no one wanted bc they weren’t producing oil), he throws it all into saving face and trying to make investors buy into something that isn’t there. what a smart business man would’ve done was liquidate his assets and possibly try to get into a business that will yield at least some profit. he does learn his lesson tho and eventually can be trusted with money, but even he is hesitant to do anything with the household finances. he’s a dreamer, and dreams and money are the same as oil and water.

javier. i know you’re possibly surprised but hear me out. he’ll go all in to get info, whether he’s spending american taxpayer money or his own money or anyone else’s, if it’s valuable info that can be bought, it’s gonna be bought even if he goes without groceries for the next two weeks. before being with you, it was booze and prostitutes and cigarettes that ate away at his checks outside of buying information. the only thing that really changed once you got together was the prostitutes and slightly less cigarettes and booze. however, when he goes back to laredo permanently, he’s perfectly capable of keeping his shit in line. he’ll balance every checkbook in sight and run a tight af ship.

ezra. this man is a scavenger by necessity, a con man by choice. he has a silver tongue and a roguish charm and pretty questionable morals; he’s not gonna have any issue with getting his hands dirty. he’s probably gonna use your joint money to try and pull a fast one on some unsuspecting stranger (“it’ll double our money,” he says, “it’ll be fine,” he says), but then said stranger will end up turning the tables and leave you both absolutely broke. yeah he will feel guilty, no doubt. the only problem is that he won’t take it as a “hey don’t do it again” lesson, it’ll be a “this is how i can improve for next time.” eventually you have to put your foot down and take control of the money and when he realizes that you’re improving your lives much better than he is, he will thank you for it.

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