#Max Phillips fics

[wannab-urs]

Red Right Hand

Summary: You and Max have dinner and then you get freaky. It’s almost too much for poor little Maxxie to handle. 

Pairing: Sub!Max Phillips x Vampire!Dom!f!reader

Warnings/content: Pure porn, pwp, Blood drinking (they’re both vampires), minor character death (your victim lol), murder… obviously. sub!Max, Dom!reader, unprotected PiV (they’re vampires, you are not), uhhh blasphemy probably, face riding, cum eating, Max’s vamp face, oral m! and f!receiving, overstimulation m!receiving, multiple male orgasms, refractory period nonexistent due to vampire fuckery, ass play m!receiving, praise kink, use of pet names/titles (Mistress for reader/ baby boy, pet, Maxxie, and one surprise for Max), aftercare, no use of y/n. Lemme know if I missed anything! WC: ~2k

A/N: I read this post about male overstimulation and fucking loved it. So then I decided I Bite Back needed a sequel (but this can be a standalone). Reader is a vampire just like Max. More notes on their dynamic at the end. Thanks to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, @atinylittlepain, @beskarandblasters and @theywhowriteandknowthings for betaing for me <3 Also for another pathetic sub!Max and a big inspiration of mine, check out @butchmandalorian’s A Little Lipstick Never Hurts (now featuring Dieter).

Smut below the cut

Crimson coats your lips, your chin, runs down your neck and in between your breasts. You fall back onto the bed, your victim’s blood rushing through your veins and lighting up nerve endings as it goes. You’re half drunk on the pretty thing… she was so sweet.

You reach up with one arm, slide your fingers into your lover’s hair and tug gently. Max drags his mouth away from your victim’s jugular with a questioning whine. “She’s empty, pet. C’mere,” you slur. 

“I wasn’t finished,” he grumbles.

“Max. Now.”

Max reluctantly lets go of the girl, and she crumples to the floor in a heap. He crawls onto the foot of the bed and kneels between your legs. As his face smooths out and his fangs recede, you notice a gorgeous flush in his cheeks and down his bare chest. He’s not nearly as messy an eater as you, but his plush pink lips are tinged red with your dinner. He looks down at you with hunger in his dark eyes, a different kind of appetite taking over now that you’ve both had your fill. “Kiss me, Maxxie.” 

Max settles over you on hands and knees, dropping his mouth to your sternum and dragging an open mouthed kiss all the way up to your neck. You let out a near delirious moan and wrap the short strands of his hair around your fingers. He slips his tongue along your jawline, licking up the mess you made, before finally melding his mouth with yours. 

You hook a leg behind Max’s knee, using the leverage and your grip on his hair to flip him underneath you and he yelps. You settle on his thighs and wrap your fingers loosely around his cock. “Want me to ride you, pet?” He nods enthusiastically. “Hands by your sides.” 

You spit in your palm and slick up his cock, dragging your palm up and down him slowly and barely giving him any pressure at all. Just as it looks like he’s going to beg, you slide forward, dragging your pussy lips along the length of him and trapping him against his stomach. You keep up the tease until he breaks. 

“Fucking please, Mistress,” he bucks his hips and whines. “Let me feel you.” 

“Only because you beg so pretty for me, Maxxie.” You lift up on your knees and notch him at your entrance. You groan low and long and as you sink down on his impressive length. You let your head fall back between your shoulder blades and dig your hands into the meat of his thighs. He’s so deep inside you at this angle, hitting spots that white out your vision. You bounce on his cock, grinding your clit against the neat curls at the base on every downstroke.

Max’s hands slide up your thighs and settle on your waist. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, you don’t reprimand him. Not even when he starts meeting every bounce with his own sharp thrust. “Max, fuck!” You feel your core tightening, you’re so close. You bring a hand to your clit, rubbing circles in time with Max’s thrusts.

 That ever tightening coil in your core snaps with mind blowing ferocity. Your whole body tightens up and you scream Max’s name as he fucks you through it. You slump forward, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You feel a little more wet between your thighs than you would expect. 

“Maxxie baby?” You let it drip with false sweetness. There’s a pause, long enough you don’t even need to ask what happened. You do anyway. You sit up, grabbing his jaw and forcing his gorgeous brown eyes to meet yours. “Did you come?” He has the decency to look ashamed. 

“Yes, Mistress,” he whispers hoarsely, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be,” you growl into his ear. You give his face a quick pat and sit up, letting his softening cock slip out of you. Your legs are still a little shaky as you crawl up his torso until you’re hovering over his face. “Clean up your mess, Maxi Pad,” you command, voice coated in condescension 

His mouth falls open, tongue out, and you drop your hips, letting your clit settle against his curved nose. His tongue is heavenly, but the noises he makes into your dripping cunt are sinful. His tongue dips inside you over and over again, lapping up your combined release like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. “G-Good boy, Maxxie, fuck,” you stutter as he groans into your pussy. 

The vibrations of his deep voice against you, his nose grinding into your hypersensitive clit, and his tongue lapping at you have you on the edge of coming again. Max can feel your walls tightening around his tongue and he burrows his face impossibly deeper into your cunt in response. He wraps his hands around your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel like you’re being consumed by holy fire, burned up from the inside out. You come with an incoherent cry, grinding down on Max’s face so hard it has to hurt a little. Good thing vampires don’t need to breathe. 

You finally slump to his side, giving your legs a rest. You consider stopping, the both of you sated and Max properly punished for his mishap. But then a little whimper slips from your pet’s lips and you notice his cock is hard and leaking against his stomach again. “Maxxie? Did you touch yourself?” He couldn’t have, his hands were on your thighs. 

“No, Mistress,” his voice is breathy and his hands twitch by his sides. He clearly wants more. You push yourself off the mattress and settle between his legs. You form a plan, a way to have him whimpering and begging for you in a way he never has before. You take him in your hand and kiss the tip of his cock. 

“Now, Maxxie, you can come whenever you’re ready, okay? Don’t have to ask.” He looks a little confused but also grateful. 

“Thank you, Mistress.” 

You suck him down in one go, relaxing your throat. Max groans, low and gravelly, fisting the sheets in his big hands. You allow him to thrust into your mouth once, before grabbing his hips and forcing him down into the mattress. You bob your head up and down at a steady rhythm, swirling your tongue around his tip on every upstroke. 

When his legs begin to shake, you gently hold his balls, rolling and tugging them lightly. You can tell he’s close. His chest is heaving despite the fact he doesn’t need air (habit, you guess), and his head is tipped back into the pillows, exposing the long thick column of his throat. You slip one finger behind his sack, pressing into the sensitive spot you know will push him over the edge. He shouts your name so loud it’s nearly a scream and comes down your throat, hips still attempting to thrust deeper into your mouth. When his cock softens, you hollow your cheeks and pull off him with a pop, drawing out another pathetic whimper. 

“Do you feel good Maxxie boy?” 

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you.” He’s being so good you almost feel bad about your plan. Almost.

“Get hard again.” 

“What?” He looks horrified. 

“You heard me, Max,” you say sternly, sitting up on your knees so you tower over him. “Don’t make me ask again.” 

“But it’ll hurt!” he whines. “Let me make you feel good again, Mistress. Please.” God, he’s pitiful… you can make him worse though. 

“You know what would make me feel good, pet? If you did what you were told instead of being a brat.” He pouts and you slap his inner thigh, hard enough to sting.

 He flinches and whines, but you see his spent cock twitch. He can play like he doesn’t like it, but you both know he does. His brow furrows and he closes his eyes in concentration. You watch his cock fill, untouched, as he focuses on sending blood to it. 

“Good boy, Maxxie.” You bend over and kiss his still pouty lips. You replace your lips with two of your fingers. “Suck.” He eagerly pulls your fingers into his mouth, sucking them down to the knuckle and laving your digits with his tongue. 

You pull your fingers from his mouth, patting his pretty cheeks with them. “Good boy.” You get back between his legs and wrap your dry hand around his cock, using your left over and mostly dried saliva as lube. You place your wet fingers against his hole and feel him jolt away from you before he settles and pushes his ass toward you instead. All at once, you push your fingers into him and drag your hand up his length, twisting your wrist at the top. He howls and you watch his face morph, smooth olive skin turning red and wrinkled. His mouth opens wide and you watch his fangs descend, little growls leaving his throat. You think both his faces are beautiful, but he knows better than to change when you’re in charge.  

You let your fangs descend and snarl at him, pressing down on his prostate at the same time. His growl tapers into a whine as his face returns to its human form. You retract your fangs and take his tip in your mouth, pumping your fingers in and out of him.  He grabs the sheets and pulls so hard you hear the threads ripping. His beautiful broad chest is again heaving with the effort of dragging in unnecessary breaths. 

“Mistress pleeeeease. Stop. Please. Fuck. Please, stop. I can’t take it,” his voice is high and whiny, rambling and begging and pleading with you. But he doesn’t say the safeword (crucifix) so you don’t intend to stop. Max bucks his hips into you, forcing him further down your throat. He quickly pulls back, trying to escape your mouth, only to push himself farther down on your fingers. You don’t think he knows if he’s trying to get away from the sensations or if he’s chasing them, but he obviously doesn’t want you to stop.

His eyes roll back into his head and he lets out a strangled moan. “Fuck!! Mistress please, can I come, please please.” He’s writing and tugging on the sheets so much they’ve come off the bed. You sit back on your heels, relieving him from the overstimulation of his cock, but press your fingers against his sensitive spot again. You see tears in the corners of those pretty, lust blown eyes, and know you achieved your goal. 

“Come for me, baby boy” You don’t even have to touch him again. He explodes all over his cute little belly, scrunching his eyes closed and moaning low and long. You work his prostate through it, then remove your fingers from him. You let him be for a moment, not moving away, but not touching him either. 

“You did so good for me, baby boy,” you praise him. “Can I clean you up now?” He nods slowly, still riding the high from his intense orgasm. You lick his cum off his stomach, drying the rest with a blanket, and lay on the bed on your side facing him.

 “Come here, Maxxie,” you whisper gently. He sort of flops over to face you and you pull him fully against you and cradle his head against you. “Good boy, Maxxie. You looked so pretty whining and begging for me. Do you feel good?” He nods sleepily into your chest. “Good,” you whisper. You press kisses to the top of his head and run your fingers through his hair as he falls asleep. Your mattress is exposed where he ripped the sheets off and there’s a dead body on the floor, but you really could not care less right now.

You’ll worry about cleanup tomorrow. 

–----

Endnotes: my headcanon for why she doesn’t let him “vamp out,” as I call it, is that they are in reality very equally matched strength/power wise, but this dynamic is obviously dependent on an imbalance of power, so she wants him to appear human when she doms him. I also think he turned her when he was doing a corporate takeover and she went from human secretary he harassed to vamp secretary he fucked. Then she got tired of his attitude and decided to put him in his place. 

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Thanks for reading <3

[popcornforone]

A Quick Snack

A Max Phillips Fan Fic

Do actual writing I need to over a long weekend… nope. Write a new Max Phillips Fan Fic… absolutely. Yep this was not on my radar, but here we are. Our favourite Vampire. Before you read I’ve only watched Max once & it was years ago but I have read enough to think I can get him right. Sorry if he’s not.

Synopsis: Max is your hangover cure, which give him his own high & is a good arrangement. But does a family reunion mean you will become more than a Snack for the creature of the night.

Word Count 6k

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 NO MINORS! PIV sex, mentions of other types of sex, Vampire lord & Vampiric traits including blood, murder, drinking, violence & devouring. Anger, stress, alcohol, drugs. Established relationship. I thinks that’s everything.

As always thank you for the read all feedback is welcome.

“We found love in a hopeless place, we found love…” it’s 1am & the bar is closing in half an hour & you’ve had a lot of cocktails & fun tonight, the perfect night with your friends. Dancing your heels away has started to hurt, but you are on such a high. A high that will definitely leave you with a hangover. That is a bit of an issue, you’ve got a family reunion lunch tomorrow & then party in the evening. If you turn up drunk, your parents will be disappointed in you & your grandparents will be disgusted. It’s okay though, you have a plan to cure it, which works every time.

As the bar closes you count your friends after they get filthy burgers & chips to help sober them up but you know not to, it’s not part of your cure but you do buy a bottle of water. “Are we all here & ready to go home” “no” Jess shouts “i still want to dance &…”she stumbles to the ground spilling her bag across the floor. You’re the mum of the group even drunk & help her up. You get everyone in the taxi line & when you know you are two taxis away you message him.

*almost home baby, ready for a quick snack*

You giggle as you get a reply that says

*ooooh nice, always delicious*

“Wooooo I’ve seen that face on you before, what’s his name?” Clare asks. You hide your phone but don’t see Maya look over your shoulder “It’s Maxie! that’s what her phone says ahhhhhh” “shhhhhhhh” you go to her. “When do we get to meet him?” “Is he nice?” “Why isn’t he out?” “Is he good in bed?” “Girls seriously!” You stop them all. “If you remember all of this tomorrow night I might let you know about him on Sunday” the taxi pulls up & you all climb in.

You are so grateful your apartment is on the ground floor, the idea of walking up flights of stairs is a step too many for your feet. You go inside & kick your shoes off sighing in relief”finally oh that feels good”. You stumble into the dark to the kitchen, past you remembered to put a bottle of water in the fridge & you grab it, before grabbing a bag of peas from the freezer & placing them on your neck. You gasp at first, feeling the coolness connect to your skin but it needs to happen to help your hangover cure. Without doing this you’d be in no fit state for tomorrow.

You remove your dress when you get into the bedroom & pull your thick blinds. You’d hoped he would already be here to make this even more enjoyable for you but he’s not. You take off your bra as well & slide on your strappy night dress. It’s made of silk & is red & clings to your body. The bed sheets you lie down on are also dark, so it can cover up for any mishaps. This is all preplanned & ready for your nights out & it works well for the both of you. You look at your phone, no messages to say he’s late or delayed. You remove the peas, lay on your back & your ears are pounding from all the music & booze. No weed or drugs, he doesn’t enjoy that & you want to make him happy.

You are almost asleep when you hear the bedroom door creek open. His broad shadowy figure instantly recognisable. Your hangover cure, your lover, & the man you are tomorrow going to to introduce to your family at the evening of this reunion party. Max Phillips. A creature of the night who you met on a drunken night out 18months ago. He was after prey but felt sorry for you as you tried to deal with your friend who was being kicked out of a bar. He helped you get her home & you asked him what you could do to thank him & that you’d do anything. You thought his fangs were fancy dress before he started kissing your neck & then bit into you, getting him drunk & curing you of your hangover in 5mins. He flew off but he’d already added his number to your phone. The next time you went out you asked if he was free & you had passionate sex in your apartment as he sunk his teeth in your neck. You both enjoyed it. He gets a high each time it’s not as potent a feeling as your hangover, but he sleeps it off during the day. Because of his powers it wears off much quicker than yours would. He loves it & so do you, it’s a good arrangement, but you now both agree that this needs to go a step further. He’s agreed to turn you at Halloween, the perfect day for you to also become a creature of the night.

“Even in a tipsy state & in a half light, you are still beautiful, my beloved” he smirks & slowly walks across the room. You’ve left the bed side light on so there is a small glow to the room. “Max, what took you so long” you reach up as he sit on the edge of the bed, undoing the top button on his shirt, dark blue. His skin always feels cold but so smooth. Lips that despite having no life in them always are so succulent to kiss. He may not have a beating heart but he makes yours race fast enough for the two of you. “Sorry darling, a guy was smacking his wife about & verbally abusing her while they walked their dog, so I am actually pretty well feed, & I had to go get changed before I got here.” “This is still going to work right baby” you question worried that he won’t want to feed on you as much, that you will feel rubbish tomorrow. “Also I wouldn’t have minded you being messy when you…” “yes you would have, he was a lot more than a snack” you blush. Max always is a moral person & doesn’t drink or drain for fun anymore, well he says that he always was but not since meeting you. But every now & then there is an exception because someone’s not a very nice person.

You sit up & place the bag of peas back on your neck again, ready to help numb the initial pain of the bite. You caress his face when you make eye contact before he kisses you. He may be cold but it still electrifies your soul, & the idea that this could go wrong always makes you shiver a little, there is always a slight risk. Max has always promised that if this ever does go wrong you will wake up after being turned 3 days later. “You ready my beloved, I know asking you in a drunk state isn’t exactly consent, but I need to know you are still happy with the risk?” He moves your long hair away from the left as he cups your chin “Maxie get bitey,” you giggle. That’s always been your confirmation. He removes the bag of peas,”the pleasure is all mine.”

You yelp. You always scream slightly. Feeling something sharp stab your skin always makes you yelp. Blood tests, piercings & tattoos always make you flinch & respond. His fangs have the same reaction. You grasp his thigh to make sure you don’t move so much, that he can sink into your flesh enough to get his flow to feed. The sensation is weird but arousing as he sinks deeper within the crook of your neck, knowing he will later be nuzzling into it when you have sex. You then feel a small trickle go down your shoulder. He’s found the vein that supply’s his meal. It’s cool as it starts to flow & you try to control your breathing. Being to turned on by this can lead to accidents & you pumping blood to fast. You have passed out twice because you’ve not controlled it. Thank god Max can also stop the bleeding with his vampiric powers.

Max moans as he slowly removes his fangs from deep inside your neck, making sure not to snip any over veins on his way out. His eyes have gone darker than they are anyhow, always large pools of chocolate dazzling back at you. “This is always my favourite meal, maybe it’s because we are dead soul mates” he sucks exquisitely on your neck taking his first slurp. His pupils dilate as the blood starts to coat his mouth. He loves you & that’s what makes the taste so delicious. He knows when he turns you he can’t drink from you anymore. He can’t drink from you all the time, he needs you fit & healthy & the best version of you before he turns you, he wants you to be happy with how you will eventually look for eternity. Fortnightly snacks are perfect or one off specialities like tonight when you need to be ready for the day ahead. His tongue glides across you & makes you moan & sigh. This means you’re safe, he’s not hit anymore veins & you’ve been calm enough that the stream he is feasting on is at a good pulse. He won’t spill a drop tonight.

You can hear him enjoying himself as he drinks, you know this roughly takes 5minutes, anymore & it becomes dangerous for you both. You don’t remember him setting a timer as he started to drink & you know you haven’t as you were almost asleep when he arrived. Anymore than 7 minutes will cause you to pass out & if he drinks too much he’s likely to want to devour all of you. No amount of turning would bring you back from that, you would be dead & that would be it. He can hear you gasp at this realisation & he can feel more liquid is his mouth as he swallows. He grabs your hand & rubs your knuckles, instantly soothing you. He knows he is too full to drink any further than 4mins tonight. He can feel your pulse & knows your heart rate so knows when to stop each time, unless he gets taken away, he only sets the timer to keep you at ease.

“Max you feel so good oooh baby, suck, drink it all, I’m actually going to miss you snacking on me I really am, it’s so intimate” the words are in a hushed tone as they part your lips. He has a smile on his face as he drinks thinking about how good his final snack of you will be. He slowly starts to move away, getting the last few drips in his mouth & presses his thumb across the two small holes on your neck. His mouth edges towards your ear, “delicious as ever baby, let me just seal you up.” His fangs as well as sinking into you, create an ooze that heals within minutes. It’s what flows in his veins to keep him undead instead of blood, but it does make him weaken, which is why he gets a little hungover from drinking you, after you’ve been out partying. It’s when the taste of your blood enters his system in these few seconds. The essence lands & seals the bite marks in seconds. It always hisses like a hot frying pan does when someone cooks bacon in it. You grown at the sensation, almost now feeling sober, but still with a slight high. He didn’t drink as much as usual but you know you will be fine for lunch tomorrow.

Max places the bag of peas back onto your neck to make sure there’s no residual follow up pain, before he licks his lips seductively & starts to take off his shirt. You glance up & see him roll his shoulders & start to rock his hips. The alcohol he’s drank out of your starting to make him playful & a tease. “Your hips know how to move baby they really really…”but your mouth drops open & the bag of peas fall to the floor & split open. Max has in one motion taken off his trousers & briefs, he’d been working on his fly & belt while he finished drinking you. He may not have any blood in his veins but he’s still long, girthy & erect, waiting for you to say yes. His trousers when he’s not hard, still show that Max should be very proud of what he has, he likes wearing those tailored trousers for that exact reason. “Bet no man danced like this for you tonight” he jokes a devilish grin appears on his face as his grooving body thrusts into the air. “I mean you’re technically not a man either baby” you laugh but then his hand is over your mouth. His blistering speed & reflexes means he’s hoovering over in a micro second as he also palms your mound as you moan into his mouth. “Do you consent Max?” You ask, knowing by the time he’s pounding you he will be drunk, “I do baby I do” he places his hand around your neck, not to harsh or forceful, but it means he can kiss your lips as he pushes you back into your pillows, & he glides his cock through your folds & into your core, your walls feeling every inch of his bare cock inside you.

Max is always silent during sex with you. It freaked you out the first few times, wondering if he felt anything due to him being dead, but he assured you he did, & that if he made noises it would shake more than just your body, the growl would shake the walls of the building. You learnt this when you had sex at his the first time. His sound proof room creaked as he plundered you. You enjoyed it but you love the pants & the eye contact he makes with you while he fulfils your needs. It’s intense beautiful yet disturbing & scary at the same time. You do make enough noise for the two of you. Each thrust you moan his name screaming at the end of any sex session. You moan into his mouth as he try’s to silence you with kisses which also keeps him quiet. His hand grips your throat further & makes you squeak, he wants to control your breathing, & by doing that makes you clamp down on his cock harder.

He stealthily withdraws, realising he was actually as well as his cock was pushing your knickers inside you, so he smoothly rolls them off your arse so they are now round your ankles, & then his relentless pace inside you starts again. A much firmer entry this time not holding back, a blistering pace to make you groan. He’s loving the sweet caress his hands are doing over your silk dress. Max doesn’t care that you’re covered by some slinky sexy material. Your breast are still hard & lifting the dress up as a tent due to his tease. As for your pussy, he is already inside you grunting, trying not to shout your name. He only needs to look at your face tonight, if he is going to go to euphoria with you. It’s not like he’s not seen your folds glistening for him before, though that’s his kryptonite. Seeing you masterbating as you are high on life is something else he would like you to do for him before you are turned into a Princess of darkness.

“Fuck Max fuck oooh yes yes” you body is pulsing at every thrust, every touch. You pull him close to you & lick the sweat off his long neck. Such a long neck. Perfect for nuzzling during a come down. Whoever got to feed on that neck before he was turned must have had an amazing time. He, she, they, them or a count, Max would have been delicious alive, because he’s pretty exceptional dead. He’s rocking into you hard, thrusting & biting his lip so he doesn’t cause your apartment to move. He is in a moment. He can feel the alcohol affecting him so he speeds up even more. His quick reflexes make him even faster than any man in the world, as his cock obliterates your core. You wonder as you sense your orgasm approaching, if he will be as fast when you also have these reflexes & speed. Not all vampires get the same power but you always pick one up from your master. You’re not his familiar but the deal is cast & he is the one who will be turning you.

You scream & growl “Fuck Maxie so bitey so big fuckkkkkk” & you cum. The orgasm hits you like a freight train & makes your whole body jolt & spiral. It’s the hardest you’ve ever had. Every sense is on fire igniting your being. You grasp his throat & can feel his rhythm change. He snarls & then digs his long nails into your hips. He fills you up, his seed coating you. He’s never asked if you were on birth control & has no idea if his swimmers actually could you pregnant, he’s dead after all. But you are on birth control just incase. As he slows & then leans into your body & whispers into your ear the 3 words you’ve always wanted to hear from any man. “I love you”. You gasp & kiss him deeply. When he’s done & collapses nuzzling into your neck, your stay in the embrace. You are sure for a second you can feel his heartbeat but then remind yourself he doesn’t have one. You eyes meet & he caresses your face. You sigh & say “I love you Max, beyond the forever, now help me sle…” Max blinks 3 certain ways to hypnotise you & you fall instantly asleep.

It’s the evening of the family reunion & it’s all gone well so far today. You’re a bit concerned, your cousin Amber is fretting about her husband who she argued with last night but he left the house & hasnt come home, but you’re also concerned that you’ve not heard from Max yet today. Usually he messages after he gets home from feasting on your neck & sex, so you will see it when you wake up. But not last night. You’ve message to remind him of tonight & that he is meant to be meeting your family & that you are sober, but not had a message back at all. So you’ve started drinking properly again & are on your 6th glass of champagne.

“Come do the monster mash” your sister try’s to drag you to the dance floor at your grandparents hotel that they own but you shake your head “no no no, my feet hurt to much from dancing last night, I can’t do it…” “did the hangover cure not fully work then?” Comes the smouldering tones from behind your left shoulder. You turn your head & smirk, pulling the biggest innocent but sexy eyes you have. Max is in a Black suit, white shirt & red tie. Hair pristinely in place. The perfect look to introduce any new boyfriend to your family “well I did get a very very good night sleep” you blush. He’s purposefully slow walking towards you before your fling your arms round his neck. He’s not hesitant in his kiss at all, rounding around your lips, kissing you with all the warmth in the world. His eyes dazzle back at you as you as always fall under his vampiric spell. He blinks once to make sure your still not hypnotised from last night & you pull on his dark red tie & lean in for the next kiss, only for your sister to say “erm hello I am still here, please finally introduce me to Maxie” you giggle & face her, as his hands pull you in close to his body. This is a big thing for him tonight, he doesn’t want you out of his grasp.

The last person you need to introduce Max to is your Grandpa which could be very awkward. “I’ve warned you about this Max okay please try & be you, but not you” Grandpa wheels over in his wheelchair & grabs Max hand firmly to shake it. Max hisses a little. “Max Grandpa was a priest, Max is Recruitment Manager & Motivational Influencer” you state. Years of touching holy water, means there’s still some residue on your Grandpa plus he had been to church that morning, Church & vampires don’t mix. “So will you make a honest woman out of my little snack” he asks. Max looks at you confused “snack?” He asks “when I was 4 I used to run round this hotel on a snack hunt, irritating the staff, so I became little miss snack” you giggle with your Grandpa & Max if he could would blush, he can feel he’s a little bit embraced as that’s his name for you too. “Yes, we’ve had a complicated relationship for a long time but I’m finally ready to commit to this, forever & beyond that” Max devilish smile is on his face as you sip more champagne “well if you do I still have my license, if I’m still around I can marry you in the name of…” “Grandpa!” You shout, trying to make sure Max doesn’t hear the word God & start to enrage, especially as he is a man of God, it would be too easy for Max to start devouring him. “It’s okay my beloved, your offer is sweet sir” Max says grabbing your hand “but my family, well there’s a lot of us, we have a very special commitment ceremony that happens, it takes place over lots of days & is very enjoyable” “I’m sure you can fit one more tradition in there for the brides family, all my grandkids have got married by my in my old church under God watchful protection”. You couldn’t stop it that time, Max is making a fist with his hand & is doing some heavy breathing. “Grandpa im sure that we will be able to sort something out with his, but Max & I still need to discus a few things before we get to that point” “well hurray up & decide you two, your not going to live forever & neither am I & id like to give you both a blessing” as he says that word he grabs both your hands, which sting Max as the grip is much firmer.

You leave your Grandpa & head into the garden for some air. Max did his best but all of that has made him uncomfortable & seething. He is proud he didn’t lose control for you, however if he doesn’t drink soon, he may snap into his full monster if provoked by anyone. Out of your hand bag you produce a small vile for him of your blood from when you cut yourself accidentally the other day & automatically thought to save us much as you could for Max. It’s not much but he smiles & it’s gone in 3 gulps. “Little does your Grandpa know that we will live forever my beloved” he tentatively kisses you, trying desperately not to bite your lip for more blood “he also wouldn’t like to know that I was born in the year 1916 & am older than him, imagine that.”Max chuckles “me finding my souls mate who’s 72 years younger than me” “& you don’t look a day over 35” you giggle & finish your alcoholic drink. He looks deeply into your eyes before he kisses you with hunger & desire. You push him away slightly & raise a finger to his lips. “Maybe we should both be drunk for the end of this party?” You ask, Max raises an eyebrow “the flows from your finger is not good enough to cure you baby” he says “that is true but why don’t you concentrate on sucking my finger while I…” your other hand is undoing his belt buckle. “Oooh my little snack oooh yes” he licks up your finger, when you both suddenly hear a high pitched scream from the house of Sheer panic.

You both run back inside when you see Amber screaming hysterically at everyone. She’s just been asked to go & identify a body that they think might belong to her husband. “Max can drive her there he doesn’t drink, I’ll come with you baby” you volunteer the two of you & you head off. “It’s okay Amber I’m sure it’s a false alarm it’s fine.” “But they said on the phone it was like he had been eaten by a lion, whoever’s body it is, even if it’s not Kanes, im scared to look at” you calm her down in the back seat of the car, her dad mum & 2 siblings are following in a Taxi. “Im sure he’s fine, no one would hurt him” “yes they would he’s not a good person” & that when you can see through here tears the bruises on her face. “Did he…” “every night for the last month he’s either physically or mentally abused me, he left in anger when I said we didn’t need to walk around the block with the dog again last night, he punched my face, called me a whore & then left…” you sit there saying reassuring things to her. However it’s only when she gets out of the car & heads into the station with her family, that Max sighs & puts his foot down to drive away very suddenly.

“Max what the hell what’s up” you say as you crawl Into the front passenger seat from the back of the car, he slows down as you attempt this, but speeds away once your in the seat “did he have a buffalo tattoo?” “What!?” “Her husband Kane did he have a buffalo tattoo?” “He had lots of tattoos Max I’m not sure…” you pause & then look concerned “was the dog a Jack Russell?” You ask & his face looks embraced as he turns to face you “MAX!!!” You scream & he does an emergency stop. You’re panting & in a panic,”did you kill & eat Kane? Did you! DID YOU!?!?” Your stare is hard, if Max had a soul this look would be destroying it. “Max you promised me a year ago, you had stopped eating people at random. There’s no excuse for this at all” “he was abusing her” “two wrongs don’t make a right Max! I can’t believe it, I though you were on the straight & narrow” you grab your bag & go to undo the car door but it’s locked “Max let me out I…” be he speeds off into the Forrest, jolting you back into the chair in panic.

“Max, let me out, Max, I can’t do this, you’re scaring me baby, please I want to be alone, please” He stops the car & you face him. He’s not looking at you, but you can tell he’s angry. “Max please, drive me home please, please please…”& then you freeze, he’s turned to face you in his full vampiric hunting form. His eyes are dark crimson Red, his fangs long & his growl is earth moving. The car & trees surrounding you shake from the noise he just made. You’re petrified to the seat & can’t move. “Max no, Max I can’t, Max let me go I…I… ahhhh”… He lunges forward.

You leap out of bed screaming & you hear your alarm going off. “MAX!” You scream ferociously & you see he is in your kitchen in his briefs washing his hands. He turns around startled before dashing back into the bedroom “what is it my beloved, what’s wrong” you grab your phone & check the date, & time silencing the alarm, the family party starts in just over 2hs. It was all just a dream? Your breathing is raged & you know to calm it you should hug Max to feel him being cool against your skin, but you don’t want to until you hear him confirm something. “I… I had a dream while i slept in your hypnosis” “&..” he asks while caressing your knuckles & checks you are fully out of his trance. “last night before you drank from me, you said you’d snacked on someone who was abusive & was walking a dog… did you kill him… did he have a Jack Russell?” Max laughs, “of course I didn’t kill him, I don’t do that anymore, why did you dream I did?” “But it was a Jack Russell right?” Max sighs “yes it was” you go to complain but Max continues “I hypnotised him then ruined his mental state & then started to drink him but he had been smoking pot, so I just dumped his hypnotised ALIVE body back on the porch. The reason I was late getting to you was because I hate blood that tastes of drugs, so I wanted to clean up first, if I’m gonna drink from my best supply I don’t want my mouth contaminated” you blush a little. “Sorry Max I dreamed you murdered him & then kidnapped & tried to devour me instead of turning me” Maxs grabs your hand, “the only thing I want to devour of yours is that glorious little cunt you have”

He straddles across you on the bed, & pushing you into the mattress, before finally Removing your red silk night dress exposing your naked body to him. “Do I have time for a taste before you have to leave?” He mumbles as he trails kisses down your neck. His large hands palming & squeezing your breasts. “I think you’ve only got time for one, I need A shower before I go, so sex or oral baby? You pick” you giggle. The way he sits up & puts his thumbs in his waist band answers your question. “I want to make your walls quiver around me while I fuck your precious little cunt” he releases his length stroking it leisurely before swiping it through your slick to lubricate it. You gasp as he nudges nearer & the you wrap you legs round his waist. “I know you have all the speed & vigour in the world baby, but I want you to fuck me like you would have when you were human” he giggles a little “so rampant after the Second World War sex it is then” you laugh & go to speak but your voice turns into a whine as he slots his penis inside you & starts rocking his hips.

Max sighs as he hears you gasp for air, his cock sliding through your walls as he rocks into you. One had on you hip massaging it, the other between your two bodies teasing your clit, the way he knows you like it. “Over 70 years of sex dead or alive, has helped me work out what to do with a woman’s body when she’s needy bbbuutttt…..oooooh fuck” you push into him & he can feel every inch of your core “but I….”he’s panting “I’ve never had a cunt as responsive as yours my beloved” Max rolls his head back & the shoulders jutter, his torso breathing breathily. He may not have blood or a pulse but it still doesn’t mean he can’t get a work out or out of breath as he has sex with you. “Max your talking during sex, should I be concerned…” “no my love, just RTwwaeeeerrr Arghhh” he grabs onto your hip & growls loudly & you can not just feel your body move & respond to his passion but you can feel the bed frame wobble. If this was hard fast vampiric sex you’d expect this but no, this is because his growling & talking, it’s is actually shaking your bedroom. You swing your arms round his neck & pull him down to you “kiss me through it Max, that will keep us both quiet & keep the building in one piece”.

Lips of desire, that for over 90 years have kissed countless women. Have feasted on everyone & everything, that can kill you in an instant. Which house fangs sharper than a butchers knife. Poison coursing through his veins & a curse of the undead. & yet when his mouth connects with yours in this moment, it’s sweet, silent & succulent. He has decided you are his undead souls mate, you were just drawn together. He’s never had this connection with another person before or after being turned. & he’s looked, oh has Max tried everyone, but now here he is with you in your 1 bed apartment in 2023, on the city outskirts, making love to you a receptionist for a local adverting company, pounding into your pussy at the slowest rate he can (which is still fast compared to most men) knowing your blackout blinds won’t fail, & that the only burning sensation he will have is his frozen heart trying to come back to life to make you stay & not go to your family party. He loves you & he can’t wait to have you as his when he has turned you. You might be normal & boring to the rest of the world, but you are the person Max has been searching for all his extraordinary life.

As your lips part he has to go faster he needs more friction, more moans from you. If your neighbours hear he doesn’t care. In 4months time you’ll be living together as vampiric soul mates else were. Let them complain about your moaning, you’re both having fun & not hurting anyone. His pelvis is thrusting & his cock throbs as he can feel you tighten more against him “Maxie ooooh Max fuck fuck fuckkkkkkk” “arghhhhhh” Max growls & the painting on the walls start to shake as he screams the words “this fucking cunt is insane”. Those words & the glass in a frame shattering make you both cum within 4 thrusts of each other. You shut your eyes & scream in desire before you feel his hot lips, covered in sweat from his face, lock with yours. “Fuck yes baby oh ooooooh my g…” he shhhs you before you can say the word god. It’s always been hard to to scream that during sex with him.

After snuggling for a few minute you realise what the time is & know you’ve got to get a move on. You shower & get dressed “ooooh you’ve gone for Dark Red & Gold I see, I’ll make sure to pick out my tie that matches” Max giggles & you throw a pillow at him as he wraps his dressing gown around him.”it’s a ruby wedding anniversary it makes sense doesn’t it & you are sure you’ve got my grand parents address, remember he…” “used to be a … yes yes I know my beloved” & he follows you to the door of your apartment. You wrap your arms around him & deliver 3 pecks to his lips. He tries to bite it on the third. “Remember not to eat any of my family later okay, especially Kane even tho he deserves it” He laughs & stands in the door frame as you step into the natural daylight in the hall way to leave the building “why would I want to bother with them, when I can snack on you later, especially as I’m driving, drink all you want baby, I can get high off you later.” You lean back in & kiss him once more “Oooh Maxie, always so bitey” you say as you let go of him. “7pm see you then” he calls out as you leave your building. You get in the taxi & send him a message

*were both each others snack baby*

*well I’d best get some sleep to work up all my appetites for tonight then could be a long night*

You smile at his reply, realising that soon he will be your forever. He might no longer have you as a snack, but you both know that forever with each other won’t be long enough for the plans you have.

[wannab-urs]

This fic... it's so creative, so well written, and so fun to read. There's a whole lot of fluff and a good bit of angst. I loved every single chapter, all the twists and turns, all the soft sweet moments, and all the scary or painful ones. The ability to write accurate characterizations of so many different characters is seriously mindblowing. I adored this fic.

The Infinity Cube Masterlist

When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe?

Main Pairing: Marcus Pike x Female Reader

Side Pairings: Pedro Characters x Female Reader

Last Updated: August 27, 2022

~~~~

Part 1: The Beginning (Marcus Pike) – Fanart

Part 2: This Is Not a Dream (Din) – Fanart

Part 3: One of a Kind (Javier) – Fanart

Part 4: In the Next Life (Pero) – Fanart

Part 5: The Truth (The Thief)

Part 6: Versions of Me and You (The Thief) — Fanart

Part 7: Don’t Lie to Me (Whiskey) – Fanart

Part 8: Nightmare (Dave) – Fanart

Part 9: No Plan to Follow (Veracruz) — Fanart

Part 10: Half of a Whole (Frankie)

Part 11: Remember Who You Are (Frankie)

Part 12: Shelter (Oberyn) - Fanart

Part 13: Temporary Conclusions (Ezra) – Fanart

Part 14: Change of Perspective (Omar)

Part 15: I Wish (Maxwell)

Part 16: A Deal With the Devil (Dio)

Part 17: Survival of the Fittest (Max)

Part 18: This is How a Heart Breaks (Dieter, Marcus M, Nico, Joel)

Part 19: Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay (Javi G) - Fanart

Part 20: The End

My Edit: 1, 2

Cube Fanart

More Fanart I love: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Fan Video

Playlist

Final Chapter Announcement Video

[perotovar]

Uh, I'm the head of HR, so it's highly inappropriate for me to discuss this—

PEDRO PASCAL as MAX PHILLIPS Bloodsucking Bastards (2015) dir. Brian O'Connell

[wannab-urs]

Hello and welcome to the Peg That Middle Aged Man Campaign 2023!

My dear friends and I took on the challenge of pegging many of Pedro boys over the last couple weeks, and I'm here to put them all in a masterlist for you!

I'll be updating it as we get all of the boys who have been... uh... claimed... posted, but also there are a few boys we didn't take on. Feel free to message me about adding your fic to the list!

Thanks to @atinylittlepain, @serenaxpedro, @jksprincess10, @cutesyscreenname, and @beskarandblasters for helping me put this together <3

List below the cut!

Anything For You, Babe by @wannab-urs | Frankie

You and Frankie try something new because he's a simp and he loves you.

Nothing to Hide by @atinylittlepain | Pre-outbreak!Joel

she learns a couple new things about her man over the course of a night.

Non-Disclosure Agreement by @atinylittlepain | Dieter

Something unprofessional keeps them professional.

I’d suffer hell if you tell me what you'd do to me tonight by @serenaxpedro | Post-outbreak!Joel

You knew you could trust Joel with your life, knew he would never judge or betray you. But what if it came to a very particular want of yours? Would he be up for a night of new kind of fun?

New Experience by @jksprincess10 | Javier Peña

A new discovery leads to a new experience for Javier.

Vaya con Dio by @atinylittlepain | Sean "Dio" Morrissey

Dio thinks he's got her all figured out, but she's got a few tricks up her cashmere sleeve.

I Bite Back by @wannab-urs | Max Phillips

Max Phillips is seemingly always in command, always domineering, always on top… except when he’s with you.

Something Different by @beskarandblasters | Din Djarin

You work at a brothel on Coruscant. It was a night just like any other but you wanted to do something different for a change. And you get that when a Mandalorian walks in looking for intel on a bounty.

Office Hours by @cutesyscreenname | Mr. Ben (SNL)

Reader surprises Professor Ben during office hours. And not for lunch.

Appropriate Reactions by @wannab-urs | Ezra (Prospect)

Ezra is stranded without a ship and has nothing to offer you in return for a ride off The Green... So you make a deal.

Gold by @jksprincess10 | Oberyn

Oberyn has given you a beautiful but strange gift, and he wants you to use it on him.

Play by @atinylittlepain | Javi Gutierrez

it's not that kind of play, honey.

Coming Soon:

Marcus Pike - claimed by @atinylittlepain

Dave York claimed by @serenaxpedro

--------------------

Happy Pegging!

[popcornforone]

The Forever Solstice

A Max Phillips Fan Fic

First of all I’m sorry. I mucked up. I wanted this published on Wednesday for the Summer Solstice, but as usual life got in the way, so here we are now a few days late, but it’s time to see what Max wants to do on the longest day of the year. I’m really back into my vampires at the moment. (& yea I took that sun set photo)

Synopsis: As a new vampire you are missing your beach days in the summer with your friends, so Max decides to treat you to a night on the beach you deserve.

Word count: 3700

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18! PIV sex, sex outdoors, reader is a vampire, swearing, blood, mentions of transformation & other vampire lore(it’s Max after all) teasing, lots of fluff & romance, established relationships, violence & death are alluded to but not written about (again Max being a Vampire covers most of this) lots of detailed descriptions linked to all sorts of things.

As always all feed back is welcome, & thank you all for the read & the love, I always really appreciate it

Being a creature of the night does not have its good points during the summer. The heat & the Sun is constantly bearing down on you both, it will mean that you spend a lot of time sleeping in the dark to hibernate. However you do have Max Phillips to look after you & make sure that you are his vampire bride for all of eternity. The vampire life is lush, but this is first time you are actually regretting your decision to be turned by the love of your life, your soulmate, your forever.

Blood can keep your cool, but it doesn’t replace the joy of going to the beach with your friends & Max can see that in your eyes as you wake up each evening, desperate for one more day on the beach. Long gone are the beach walks, barbecues & drinking games of never have I ever which lead to you & your friends rushing to the sea to cool off. He wants to give you that joy of one more day on the beach, but he knows if you both even step towards it in daylight, that you will both be ashes within seconds, dust to dust, lying on the floor dead for the rest of time.

The summer solstice is here & he can think of no better time for him to treat you to this one event. An event that might not be exactly what you think it will be, but that will stay long in both your memories for as long as you are together which is now for forever & a day. The longest day of the year means that you can’t go out at all not until it gets to 9pm & even then it’s a risk. Knowing that, Max makes sure to wake you up at 8. He asked you to prepare. He asked you to put on your favourite human summer clothes. Something appropriate for a mystery occasion, something that will leave a little bit to the imagination. Over your swim wear you wear your mermaid shorts & long floaty flowing vest top. “Beautiful as always my forever” Max echos as he sees you emerge ready for this beautiful night. You both take your vampiric form & the two of you transform to fly towards your destination. You can’t help feel that this might be incredibly magical & romantic for the man who has no beating heart.

You present your human form on the beach at 10 pm. The waves are still warm & the Sands still crisp & course & it gets everywhere but you are not complaining, this is what you want. You’ve wanted this every morning so far when you’ve gone into your slumber to hide from the humidity & light. You wanted one more beach day, now be it at the twilight of night, which will only be for the next six hours. You are here, & Max is standing next to you. He already knows by the happy look on your face, that he has done a good job.

“Oooh Maxie really a beach day, seriously?” You ask & smile at him before you kiss his lips. You might both be dead but the warmth radiating between the two of you as you embrace, is exactly what you both need. “Anything for you, my forever” Max says as he unbuttons his shirt “I’m sorry you can’t come to the beach with your friends anymore. A small price to pay for eternity with me”. There is smirk on his face as he says that. “Also no sun burn, you won’t look like a lobster, no sticky sun lotion.” “But if we see it, we will catch fire & be a blaze” you say as you slide off your outer clothes so you can leap in the water in the swim wear Max insisted you wore. You dash to the sea & see Max is a little bit tentative. “Come on baby, it’s so nice & warm in here, your missing out”

Max in his swim shorts which he brought especially for today, as he has not needed any for the last 80 years, walks along the shore line watching you splash about. He adores your little giggle & smile, & sees the playfulness & lust for a long life, which drew him to you in the first place. Initially for a quick snack but this has now turned into a bond that is unbreakable. “Max come on, live a little,” you smirk & Max sighs. “Well it is you my forever, & this is your dusk so…” Max slowly enters the sea & shudders. “Thought you said this was warm?” He screeches “yes it is, it’s better the further in you get” you’ve swam back to him a little bit to encourage him. Eventually Max is floating & then starts to struggle. “I seem to have forgotten how to swim” he says as you splash him. “Seriously? How long has it been Max?” You always forget that Max has been a vampire longer that your grandparents have been alive you assume he was only turned a few years ago. So when he replies with “75 years baby” you look shocked. Your 120 year old partner doesn’t look a day over 35 & hasn’t for 85 years. “Well maybe we can just wade & paddle Max, don’t want you to drown do we.”

Max admires your body as you get out of the water. “My my, it’s like looking at a classic Bond girl” he jokes as your body glistens in the salt from the sea. “Does that make you my Daniel Craig?” You smirk as you hold his had & walk along the shore line, the warm sand feeing crisp & getting stuck in your toes. “Oooh no you no I’m more Sean, you don’t mess with the original, you know I was at the London Premier of Dr. No?” Max states. Just holding his hand walking along the beach talking trivial stuff makes you happy. It’s a normal small thing, that okay yes you do often, but not having to hide & just being you & Max, you swear your black icy heart has started pumping again. So much of your early dating was dusk walks, dark Forrest’s, illuminated by the wisps of the twilight sky to protect him from the vicious sun. This moment along the beach reminds you of just that.

Eventually you reach a little shack which is closed for the night but being a creature of the night, Max can easily transform to get inside. You’ve not quite learnt this skill yet, you only recently master turning into a bat for a long period of time, this makes travel so much easier. Max opens the door once he is back in human form “you are invited in” he jokes. It’s usually you that says that when Max comes back from a feast or a hunt. He always jokes that he’s not Kiefer in the lost boys when you do. You chuckle at the irony of this but then your eyes dilate. Max opens the fridge door in the shack where there are fours rare stakes, oozing, looking so inviting. Your mouth salivating desperate for a taste. He’s slowly easing you into more blood for your thirst, but this is a treat. These steaks are fresh & are just begging to be devoured. He sees the frenzied look in your eyes. “I told you tonight would be special.”

You both eat your first steaks like you’ve not eaten anything for months, like it’s your last ever meal. It hardly touches the sides as you chomp away. But your second you both savour every bite. The texture, the flesh, the way it has small residues of blood seeping from it. Each mouthful is a delight as you sit outside the shack on a bench, eating the meat, each ounce feeding your hunger & tasting sublime. “Max I didn’t know steak could taste this good completely rare.” You lick your lips to get every little scrap & taste every bit of residue. Max beams back at you. “Midnight feasts are still good even as adults” he playfully responds before beaming at you. His hand cradles your cheek his eyes dark like the star filled sky. “I suppose I’m going to have many more nights of feasting to come” you reply before fluttering your eyes at him.

As his lips take yours, his left hand wanders from your neck, tracing the bite marks he left to transform you, still there 10 months later. Almost fully healed, but will always feel a little tender, knowing this is where your mortal soul left your body. Once his fingers have done circling they move to your bikini top, cupping your breast. Still slightly damp from your swimming escapades. Your nipple hardening as he teases it. “Max…” you softly gasp, feeling so aroused at his teasing & playful nature tonight. His large palms working your body, knowing exactly what makes you rive & what will make you beg for more. “I think we may have to make this a yearly tradition” he says as he pulls you into his lap on the bench you are both sitting on. As you straddle him he slips the gusset of your bikini bottoms to the side, you can feel him hardening in his swim shorts bellow you.

“Max Phillips enjoying the summer solstice? I never thought I’d see the day” you say as you lift up slightly while he takes his penis out of his swim shorts ready for you to enjoy. You place one hand on his shoulder while the other strokes his length leisurely, making sure you experience everything on this special night. “We’ll love makes you do crazy things my forever, & with you i feel young at heart again.” He stokes your back as you are lowered onto him & your groan rings out across the empty beach, with nothing to bounce it off but the night sky & your desire for each other. “Oooh what did I ever do to deserve you Max?” “Be you” he replies “I never went searching for my forever & then I stumbled upon you & I knew it was meant to be”

As you rock into each other as you straddle Max, small moans escape your mouth. You’ve never been vocal while having sex, but tonight being out in the open, with not a souls in sight you say a few more things, while Max’s attends to your needs, pleasuring your clit & telling you about the eternity that you will both face together. “Max forever with you is not enough” you say, panting & grinding away, feeling every pulse inside you, knowing that when he gets going it’s going to be really insatiable. “I know darling, imagine how bad forever would be if we didn’t have each other” he pulls you in closer as he becomes more rapid. His fangs start to appear, those Carmel eyes get darker, almost black, as he scans your body with such detail, noticing every micro bead of sweat & sea drop off you, as you moan in pleasure. He peppers your neck with kisses, a neck that for 2 years was his primary source of food, but he found you more delicious than any blood he could slurp from you. It really was like you were made for each other.

“No man has ever made me feel as good as you Max” you can really feel Max picking up his speed, hitting the spot, making your walls flutter, making the stimulation & pleasure almost too much, you know it’s happening soon as he holds your chin. “Well I’m not a man baby, that’s why they can never live up to me” he says before biting into your bottom lip, feeling the passion in your kiss as you lock together. His hand running through strands of your long damp hair, caressing your back afterwards & getting you ready for the climax he believes you deserve.

“Oooh fuck Max, Oooh fuck fuck FUUUUCCCCKKKKK” vampiric speed is always insane, but when Max is almost at the point of cuming he ramps it up even further. Powerful vibrators wish they could be 20% as good as this. Feeling his penis pound you furiously making you clamp around him, always sends you over the edge & tonight is no exception. This may not be in a coffin or the master bedroom of Max’s mansion, but it still has the same effect. Waves crashing doesn’t even do it justice. You are both swarming together, orgasming almost in unison, as his nails dig into your hips while he growls are the desire escaping his lips. The creature of the night desperately after a release that it finds. Desire & passion overflowing & both making you fall even deeper in love with one another.

You still, & so does Max, your foreheads touching breathing heavily, both unable to speak before he pulls you in for one more kiss. He hold your face as you explore each others mouths & just know that this feeling will never get old & neither of you will ever be willing to let this go. “Forever” you say in unison. Your bond strong, proving you are undead souls mates, embracing a few minutes more your head resting on his chest. Still a weird sensation, hearing each other breathe & pant desperately trying to calm down after a moment like that, & not see his heart pump. You’re still so new to this, that at times you really do forget that you are now dead. “My words are true, my forever. every summer solstice we will celebrate our love on the beach, for as long as eternity will allow us.” His next kiss is sweet & the glance in his eyes when you break is one of a puppy dog, desperate to please you & make you happy.

It’s 2am when you reach back to your items that you left on the beach when you arrived. Still there as it’s so early, no one has attempted to take them. You slip your shorts & top back on & Max buttons up his shirt which was laying over a little cool bag. “I can’t believe you went out & got summer clothes just for tonight Max, the effort is appreciated & I’ve really enjoyed my night on the beach” you reply. “Well I got the shorts, but I didn’t buy the top” he says winking at you. You know full well that there’s an unfortunate soul out there somewhere, who Max at the minimum drank guilty from looking his that face this second, & that is the sensible option. You know that look to well, your surprised someone’s not been reported missing if your honest. “Well however you came across that palm tree shirt, the original owner had good taste” you pick up a towel to dust some sand off your feet before putting your shoes on, you know your probably going to have to transform to get home soon.

“Speaking of taste…” Max smoulders as he opens up the cool bag. “I thought you deserved something cool & sweet to end our night on.” There it is. Sitting in the small box sounded by ice & blood bags, are two bloodsicles. “Oh my god Max. I thought you said we didn’t have enough blood to make more of these” you say as you reach in & slowly take yours out, sniffing it & your eyes darkening in an instant. Blood naturally restores you to your best form after drinking, but bloodsicles are the ultimate indulgence. You have to be so careful with you drink from the human to save enough of it, for you to turn them into these icy Delights. Max’s smile at you means there is probably someone hypnotised in his basement giving him a constant supply, that you don’t know about. But that’s a discussion you can have with him another day.

Your tongue lazily trails across it. The coolness making you shiver from the ice. But then the feeling of the iron in the blood reaches your taste buds & your try so hard not to just slurp the whole thing down. “It’s A negative?” You questions. Max has been teaching you the different types of blood & which are best for quick feeds or sustainable, there’s a lot more to this vampire stuff than you ever really thought there would be. “Yes, correct, I’m impressed” he says as he walks up to you & starts licking his own. “You really are taking all this stuff seriously, I’m very happy you said that” “I mean…” you interrupt “… you did say I had forever to learn this but why wait, also the quicker I do, the quicker we can take it in turns to hunt & feast, the stronger a vampire I will become, & soon we will be invincible” you cackle jokingly. Be it in human, transitioning or as a young vampire, you have always teased Max about him wanting the world & becoming an invincible force of nature. It’s always been your little joke.

Each lick of the bloodsicle makes you feel revitalised. Feeling it cool you down, making your thirsts quenched. It really is a delight, almost as delicious as those steaks. Max really has through of everything tonight, to give you a night you will never forget. You feel fantastic, like you have been reborn. Your summer blues of hiding away in the dark have been worth it for this beautiful night. You savour the last lick, not letting any drop of blood go to waste, as it trickles its way through your body. Your lips now ruby red & plump & inviting. Max takes the opportunity to take yours one last time on the beach. His own scarlets, meeting yours as he holds you tight & close, your bodies merging, feeling the love on his lips, the smoulder from his gaze before you both just shut your eyes, enjoying every second & making it count.

Your embrace is interrupted by an alarm Max had set on his phone, which he looks down on. It warns him it’s an hour until sunrise. He tucks your hair behind your ears & sighs. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a proper day at the beach, but I hope tonight was fun, my forever” he says as he holds your hand & you both start getting ready to transform to head home. “Max tonight you have given me a memory I will never forget. Of all the summer solstices I’ve ever taken part in, this will be the one I treasure the most because you were willing to risk it all for me, just to make me smile” you reply before resting your forehead against his. You both just stand there in silence, breathing hearing the waves crash & the sound of a few early birds waking up before the sun rise.

“Forever my love” Max eventuality says “I’m glad I did this justice.” He tightly holds your hand before looking you up & down. “I’m ready” you say looking at him proudly, as you both transform & travel back to the mansion. It doesn’t take long but the journey is always dangerous if either of you are spotted. You reach his house & go inside before the sun rises, safe in the knowledge you have both got back without being turned to ash. You head off to go get changed when Max takes your hand & takes you upstairs. “I have one more surprise, my forever.” He says as he takes you into the attic.

There is a small sky light in the attic which is boarded up so there are no accidents, however what is new in the attic is a periscope that is leading into it. “Come take a look my love, let’s finish tonight properly” you tentatively look through it & see the sea on the horizon, before the blacks, purples & blues of the night sky are slowly replaced by orange, yellow & a glorious sun. Instantly you hiss at it but you can’t feel its heat, & it’s not touching you. The hiss was a reflex reaction. You’re safe from the thing that could kill you instantaneously, & Max has created a device that will allow you to watch all the sun rises going forward. “Max this is so beautiful, come have a look” you beacon him over but he stays still. “Oooh this is for you my forever, it’s taken my 3 weeks to instal this & make sure it’s safe. I’ve seen 21 sun rises in that time, & each one has been beautiful” you smile & return to glancing at the beautiful horizon that you had spent the solstice on.

Max wraps his arms around your waist & Rests his head on your right shoulder. “I say they have all been beautiful but I know for sure that the one you are looking at right now is the most beautiful of all” he whispers, words that make you melt, which sound so soothing. “Why is that Max, how can you be so sure?” You reply stepping away from the periscope. “Because you’re the one who saw it, & your smile is the most beautiful thing in the world & I don’t need anything to see how big it is right now”. You blush & hug Max, a slight tear trickling down your face. “My forever” he says before leading you out of the attic & taking you straight to bed, to consummate your first summer solstice night, as Max Phillips Vampire Bride.

[wannab-urs]

EEEE I'm obsessed with thisssss. So first of all, including the texts was a stroke of genius. It was so funny trying to decipher what the hell Max was talking about. Secondly, the negotiation before they fuck??? Perfection. I love a good kink negotiation scene. This was so hot and so funny, I really really loved it.

God is a Woman

summary: Max Phillips has been trying to fuck you since the moment you met. It surprises him when you want to fuck him. (Or pegging Max Phillips)

rating: E (18+! No y/n, pegging (anal fingering & anal sex), blow jobs, vaginal fingering, come eating, dirty talk, praise kink, (1) bite (surprisingly not Max), kink negotiation, sexting, Asshole Max Phillips, Switch Max Phillips, Soft Max Phillips, Protective Max Phillips, boss/employee, Max using an excessive amount of emojis in his texts, some feelings, some comedy, alcohol, mentions of murder and an uncomfy situation with a creepy coworker (no details))

pairing: Max Phillips/f!reader

word count: 6.7k+

a/n: There are screenshots of texts because I felt it was essential to see the ridiculousness that is Max’s obsession with emojis. Lmao, I put a lot of effort into it. Anyways, this is self-indulgent. I wanted to peg Max, listened to spicy audio of a man getting pegged for inspo, and here we are. This will be two parts. Shoutout and thanks to the love of my life, @juletheghoul, for betaing and enjoying this as much as me.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Part 2 - Masterlist

The workweek had been hectic, and you were thankful it was finally Friday. Being the assistant to Max Phillips was a lot in normal circumstances with his cocky attitude, constant advances, and crudeness. Add in him handling two big account presentations in the same week, and you more than earned the bottle of wine you’d opened.

You were lounging on your couch, wearing your comfiest pajamas, and sipping on your largest glass of wine while watching the latest episode of a reality television show you knew was absolute trash but absolutely loved—living for the ridiculous drama and all of the absurd craziness, thanking the universe that your life was pretty tame in comparison, vampires being real besides the point.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of you, the screen lighting up to show you had a text. You leaned forward to pick it up, quickly unlocking the screen to pull up the message.

You sighed as you read the two words, honestly surprised it didn’t say, ‘U up?’

Since day one, Max had been trying to get into your pants, and since day one, you’d declined. You thought he was handsome—those expressive brown eyes, and pouty lips, the beautiful curve of his nose, and sharp jawline, not to mention he looked really fucking good in a suit. Once you got past his obnoxiousness, he was sexy, but you didn’t feel like being another one of his conquests, you didn’t want to be another notch in his belt before he moved on to the next. So, you put up with him, ignoring his advances and lingering stares at your tits, and did your job exceptionally well, the two of you somewhat friendly.

Your thumb tapped out your response.

You: No. If this has to do with work, I’m off the clock.

You snorted.

You: Then text Jennifer in accounting.

The week prior, you’d accidentally walked into his office to find him fucking her on his desk. You’d like to say that was the first time something like that had happened, but it wasn’t. You were pretty sure he’d slept with everyone on the payroll except you.

You took a sip of your wine.

You: Who’s fault is that?

You were so used to saying that sentence you’d typed it without a second thought.

You snorted again, absolutely doubting that was true.

You: You’re really looking for someone to cuddle? Why?

There it was.

You: I’ll have a heated blanket delivered to you.

You chewed on your lip before taking a big gulp from your glass, leaning forward to set it down on the table, and moving to get comfortable on the couch again.

His request was stuck in your brain, thinking it over and how it could all play out. It had been a literal hell of a week, and you wanted to decompress—one thing on your mind you knew would help, but you’d need a willing partner, and Max was definitely interested in you sexually… Would he be interested, was the real question. A couple of things gave you the courage to ask. Namely, the half a glass of wine you’d drunk as well as being horny. Primarily, though, you’d blame the alcohol.

You: Are you firm on no sex?

You rolled your eyes.

You: You want body heat? There’s something I want.

Max started replying right away.

“Good god,” you whispered to yourself, staring at the string of emojis, trying to decipher their meanings. “I’m really this desperate.”

On the bright side, he was a vampire, which meant you didn’t have to worry about STDs or pregnancy—since they were technically dead, there was no live sperm, and they were immune to diseases. You were honestly thankful he was undead with how many people you knew off the top of your head he’d fucked.

You tapped at your phone.

You: Actually, I want to fuck you.

Max: Did my emojis not convey I’m DTF?

You: You didn’t list what I wanted.

His replies came fast.

You thumbed your response quickly to clarify.

There was a pause. You saw the dots appearing and disappearing. Seconds passed, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you waited.

The dots disappeared, and finally, messages started appearing.

You rolled your eyes again.

He was so full of himself.

You: I’m firm, and if you’ve never done it before, I’d ease you into it. Promise to make it really good for you.

Another pause, like he was thinking.

Finally, he started replying.

You deflated, huffing out a breath as you locked your screen and tossed the phone onto the coffee table, grabbing your wine. You’d just have to use your vibrator when you finally got into bed. That’d be fine. You took a drink, focusing back on your show.

Some minutes passed, and your phone buzzed again. You moved to grab it, unlocking it and pulling up your messages.

You grinned, setting down your glass, and sitting back into the cushions.

Max: Will it hurt?

You: It shouldn’t. I’d start with my fingers while sucking your dick.

You: Yes. Have your cock in my mouth while I slip in a finger. Suck you off, and use my fingers to make you come really hard.

His response was almost immediate.

He replied.

You sent him your address.

Excitement was pooling in your belly, getting up to put the wine away and chug the rest of your glass. You took a quick shower and slipped your satin robe over your naked body, not seeing a point in putting on anything else.

You opened your closet, getting into the large chest hidden in the back, grabbing what you needed—lube, harness, dildos, clean towel—thankful you’d trimmed and filed your nails the day before, a coat of lavender-colored polish painted on them.

Everything was placed on your giant king-sized bed towards an edge where it was out of the way but still within reach. One of the bedside lamps was turned on to give the room some ambiance.

You weren’t entirely sure what to expect—you weren’t entirely sure if Max had the ability to let you be in control. You’d find out, and he seemed eager to give it all a shot.

Three quick knocks sounded against your front door, and you immediately headed towards it, tightening your robe as you walked. You quickly undid the locks and pulled it open, finding Max leaning against the doorframe in a white v-neck and grey sweats, your eyes spotting the noticeable outline of his dick, arousal stirring in your belly.

Your eyes met his, a smirk on those perfect plush lips of his.

“Is it true I have to invite you in?” You asked. “Like, I have to explicitly give you permission, or else some mystical force keeps you outside?” You leaned into the door, your hand still on the knob.

“Yes,” Max sighed. “Protection barriers or some shit, homes being sanctuaries from malevolent creatures,” he huffed, mildly annoyed.

Your eyebrow rose.

“Are you malevolent, Max?”

The face he gave you could rival that of the smiling purple devil emoji.

“Wish to do evil? No. Wish to destroy your pussy? Yes.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Jesus, Max.”

“Oh, come on, Sweetcheeks. You know how much I want to fuck you—so much, in fact, I’m willing to let you fuck my ass, which isn’t something I’ve let anyone do. Honestly, you should feel pretty fucking special.”

“It’s honestly surprising to me that you’ve had thousands of hookups with women and men, with zero ass play.”

“There’s been ass play, babe, but I’m always the giver if you know what I mean,” he wagged his eyebrows. “Let me in. I wanna see you naked.” His eyes moved salaciously down your body, biting his bottom lip.

“Rules.”

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, meeting your gaze.

“Rules,” you said again. “No, means no. I will ask before I do anything and check in on how you’re feeling. I like to use the color system—red, stop; yellow, slow down; green, go—but also safewords. Do you have one?”

“Mr. Rogers,” he answered without skipping a beat.

You made a face.

“Your safeword is Mr. Rogers?”

“Yes.”

“Okay… I’ll definitely remember that.” You took a breath before you started talking again. “If you need me to stop, slow down, or decide it isn’t your thing, I need you to communicate with me—use a color, your safeword, or just tell me to stop, and I will, zero hesitation, and no bad feelings. I want this to be as good for you as it is for me.”

His eyebrow rose.

“You get off on fucking guys?”

“And women,” you nodded.

His eyes went dark as he gasped out a fuck like he was picturing you with a woman.

“Anything else?” He asked.

“Just don’t make me regret inviting you over.”

He smiled.

“Sweetcheeks, I’m not gonna fuck up my chance to get between your legs, and frankly, I’m curious about what you’re going to do to me. You have my enthusiastic consent to do whatever the fuck you want.”

You opened the door wider, stepping out of the way.

“Max Phillips, you are invited into my home.”

“Come in, would’ve worked,” he said as he entered your apartment.

You got the door shut and locked and turned to find a big hulking vampire crowding into your space, pushing your back into the solid surface as he caged you in.

He looked at you with lust-blown eyes, his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice lower, raspier, his eyes dipping down to look at your tits before meeting your gaze again.

You nodded.

His mouth was on yours immediately, like he couldn’t wait another moment, his hands cradling your face as he hungrily pressed his mouth against yours, swallowing the surprised moan that escaped your throat. You weren’t expecting the softness of his lips or how cool they were, feeling as if he’d just sucked on a popsicle. He deepened the kiss, pushing his tongue into your mouth, sliding against yours in practiced motions that had your toes curling and eyes rolling back.

Butterflies were fluttering in your tummy, which was wholly unexpected—this was Max, your annoying boss, and yet your heart was pounding in your chest—your pussy throbbing at how thoroughly he was kissing you, unable to stop yourself from pushing your fingers into his hair.

He’d ignited some kind of spark inside you, your body lit up as he kissed the breath right out of your lungs, finally breaking it so he could messily kiss along your jawline and down your neck. You were breathing hard, feeling as he inhaled deeply at your pulse point.

“Fuck, you smell good,” he murmured against your skin. He laved at the spot, lightly nipping at it. “I’ve always wanted to taste you.” He grabbed a handful of your ass.

“Another rule,” you panted. “No biting unless I say it’s okay.”

His head came up.

“Sweetcheeks, I’m not gonna bite you unless you beg me to,” he winked.

“Okay,” you nodded.

“Now,” he slapped your ass, making you jump a little. “Where’s the bedroom? I wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock—it’s something I’ve thought about extensively, especially when you’re ordering me around.”

You sighed, pointing towards the open bedroom door.

“Hold on tight, spider monkey.”

“Wha—” the word broke off in a yelp as big hands gripped your thighs, suddenly finding yourself being easily lifted up against his body, your arms scrabbling to wrap around his neck, his mouth crashing against yours as he carried you towards the room with ease, kissing you the whole way.

You were tossed onto the mattress, leaning up to watch him pull his t-shirt off his body, hearing him kick off his shoes and push down his sweats, not even surprised he wasn’t wearing any underwear. You gulped as you took in the sight of his dick—long, thick, curved deliciously—you understood why so many people fucked him; it was a nice cock.

He was awkwardly pulling off his socks.

“This is always the least sexy part of undressing,” he mused, tugging off the last one.

“Not a sex with socks guy?”

His face scrunched up in disgust.

“Who fucks in socks?” He asked. “Unless most of the clothes are on, the socks are coming off—I’m going to be completely naked, thank you very much. Which,” he crawled onto the bed, spreading your legs to kneel between them. “It’s your turn. Let’s even the playing field. I have been dying to see your tits,” he wiggled his eyebrows, grinning.

“God, Max, you’re fucking ridiculous,” you untied the robe and let it fall open, revealing your naked body underneath.

His eyes were burning as they took you in, making you shudder at the intensity. He licked his lips before he moved, shoving his face into your chest hard enough that you fell onto your back. His cool body felt good against your heated skin, his big hands on your boobs, his head nestled between them, as he started shaking it from side to side and humming in the back of his throat.

“Are you fucking motorboating me?” You asked.

He popped up to look at you with a smirk.

“Yes? You’re so fucking warm, and they’re soft.”

“Why do people sleep with you?”

You honestly wanted to know.

“Big dick, practically zero refractory period, super strength, and I fuck like a pro,” he shrugged.

You snorted in disbelief.

He frowned slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Challenge accepted,” he stated.

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Wha—” You were cut off by lips suddenly on yours, Max moving quicker than you expected, or could even register just one second his head was between your breasts, and the next he was kissing you hard. The first kiss had been impressive, but this one, he was pulling out all the stops, his tongue tangling with yours, biting at your lips, your brain losing focus on everything around you except for the man kissing you as if his life depended on it.

His hips were slotted in the cradle of your thighs, feeling his hard cock pressed into your body, holding himself up on one arm while the other hand moved up your thigh, ghosting his fingertips over your belly and ribs, making goosebumps rise on your skin, as he got to your breast, massaging it before rolling your stiff nipple between his fingers. You moaned as jolts of pleasure shot to your core, feeling yourself dripping with need, clenching hard around nothing when he pinched at the sensitive bud.

He broke the kiss when you needed to breathe, his lips making a path sloppily kissing your jaw and neck, licking and sucking at your skin. You gasped when you felt his fangs graze over your pulse point, surprised when your pussy throbbed, a rumbling chuckle coming from Max like he was aware of your reaction.

The man had worked some kind of magic because you were all hot and bothered, cunt aching to be touched, and seeping arousal. Your skin was heated, your breaths coming out harder, his lips latched around a nipple, and your back arched as you moaned, fingers digging into the bedsheets. He was pinching at your other bud as he continued sucking before switching sides, the sensations making you moan as you began to writhe with need.

His hand skated down your abdomen, making you vibrate in anticipation, wanting him to touch you, him stopping right before he was where you needed him, a pitiful whine pulled from your throat.

He chuckled, and you frowned.

His mouth came off your nipple with a ‘pop,’ looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You want me to touch that pretty little pussy? I can smell you. I don’t even need to touch you to know you’re fucking wet.” Those long, thick fingers of his were teasing against your skin in circles. “Want to come on my fingers?”

“You can try,” you answered, not wanting to reveal your neediness.

“Oh, babe, you’re gonna come. As a matter of fact,” he looked at the clock on your bedside table. “I will make you come in less than two minutes.”

“Less than two-Oh,” you moaned as his fingers pushed through your wetness before zeroing in on your clit, the rough pads of his fingertips circling it in a way that had your hips jerking. You were so pent up that you felt that heated pressure building in your core with each movement of his digits. You couldn’t help the soft sounds slipping from your lips, your hands gripped tight against the bedspread as he worked you over.

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl?” Max asked. “You gonna come all over my hand?”

He pushed one thick finger inside you, followed by a second, and a strangled noise sounded from your mouth. His thumb was on your clit as he started pumping his fingers.

“You’re so fucking tight and warm. I really fucking hope you let me fuck this pussy.”

He sped up his fingers and applied more pressure with his thumb, your muscles tightening in your belly.

“Wanna stretch you open on my cock, and feel you come around me. Bet you get so fucking wet.”

You were getting close, winding tighter every second, unable to stop your moans, fingers digging into the bedsheets.

“You like to be in control,” he mused. “Makes you a really fucking good assistant—keeping my ass in check. But,” he leaned down, rubbing his nose along your cheek until his lips were at your ear. “I think sometimes you like someone else in control,” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe and making you shiver. “And I also think,” he crooked his fingers, hitting something blinding, fucking his fingers against it repeatedly, rocketing you towards your climax. His voice went lower. “You want to be a good girl.”

Your orgasm hit you hard, completely blindsiding you as you came with a shout. Your back arched, feeling yourself clench and arousal spill around his digits, pleasure wracking through your body.

“That’s fucking it,” he purred, kissing your cheek. “You did so well for me, pretty girl—soaking my fingers—and we still had thirty seconds to spare.”

He kept working you through your high until you stopped fluttering, opening your eyes in time to watch him bring his fingers to his mouth and suck at them lewdly.

“Mmm, knew you’d taste fucking delicious,” he said around them. He finished, his digits shiny with spit, moving to cup his hand over your pussy, looking at you with a heated gaze. “Can’t wait to eat your wet little cunt. Do you know how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking about it?”

The orgasmic haze was leaving your brain, your features screwing up in confusion, your voice coming out a little hoarse.

“You’ve jerked off thinking about me?” You asked.

“Sweetheart, you are prime spank bank material, and the way you’re always turning me down? Fuck, I’ve never wanted someone more. Plus, I like you,” he said off-handedly.

“You like me?” You said the words slowly.

“Yeah, I do. A lot, and I trust you. So, I know whatever shit you do to me will be good,” he said earnestly, and you could see in his eyes he meant every word.

You gulped, not expecting such sweet words from Max fucking Phillips.

He was a conceited asshole, who you could’ve reported to HR on many occasions for the shit he said, and yet, you never did because you knew deep down he was harmless. Even though he hit on you constantly, and you’d caught him in many compromising situations, he really was a good boss. He made sure you had everything you needed and did what you asked with only a little complaining. If you needed a day off, you got it. If you showed up to work with a cold, he was sending you home to rest, a delivery of fresh chicken noodle soup following.

You remembered a few months back. There was a creepy new hire who was handsy and made you feel insanely uncomfortable, who’d cornered you alone in the filing room and scared you to death, Max just suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He’d sent you back to your desk, and you never saw the other guy again, assuming he was let go, but now…

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“What happened to that new hire?”

He looked confused.

“What new hire?”

“The creepy one from the filing room.”

You saw anger flash across his face.

“I ate him,” his tone growly.

“You killed someone for me?”

“I could hear your heart pounding all the way in my fucking office, and the closer I got, could smell your fear. Yes, I killed him,” he stated with zero remorse. “You didn’t feel safe, and that needed to be dealt with.”

This knowledge was doing something to you; knowing the lengths he’d go to protect you was turning you on, feeling the beginnings of arousal in your belly.

You reached out and pulled him down to kiss you, shoving your tongue in his mouth and pushing on his body, him getting the message to pull you on top of him as he laid on his back. He was matching your energy, kissing you just as enthusiastically, his hands tugging your robe off your body, so he could touch your back and ass, his big palms roaming everywhere as you made out.

When you came up for air, you looked at him, seeing his eyes hooded and black with lust, a lazy smile on his lips, as you caught your breath.

“Can I suck your dick?” You asked huskily.

“Fuck yes,” he nodded. “Let me get comfortable. I wanna watch.”

“Okay,” you replied. “I need to get the lube.”

You moved off of him to get the bottle on the other side of the bed while he stacked pillows behind himself and settled with his back against them at the head of the bed, spreading his legs, his dick hard and resting against his stomach. You laid down on your stomach in the space he made, keeping the lube close as you ran your hands up his thighs. He had his bottom lip between his teeth as you rubbed along his hips before taking his cock in your hand, surprised for a moment with how it felt.

“Your dick’s cold,” you said, looking up at him.

It was velvety smooth and hard like iron but cold—not even room temperature, absolutely zero heat, that you hadn’t noticed when he was on top of you.

“I’m a vampire,” he answered by way of explanation.

“I just figured if you could get hard, there was some kind of blood flow, and I don’t know, warmth from said blood flow?”

“I don’t question the science behind being able to get a boner. I simply thank the powers that be for allowing me to fuck, and I use the gift at every opportunity.”

That was a very Max thing to say, and you couldn’t argue with his logic.

“I’m aware,” you replied. You started stroking his length, his hips bucking. “Now, while I’m going down on you, I’m going to slip a finger in slowly—just relax. Your immediate thought will be to clench but don’t. Once you’re nice and relaxed and taking that first finger, I’ll put in a second and finally a third.”

He nodded.

“Got it, Sweetheart. I’ll do as Frankie said and relax, 'cause I wanna come,” he winked.

You snorted.

“Those aren’t the lyrics.”

“Paraphrasing.”

You kissed the tip of his cock, and he sucked in a breath.

Grabbing the lube, you put some in your palm and started stroking him, your hand easily gliding down his shaft as you wrapped your lips around the head, teasing your tongue against all of his sensitive spots, making his hips buck up.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Shit, your mouth is so fucking warm.”

You understood his obsession with warmth now; he was probably always cold.

You came off him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“You’ve got a pretty dick,” you said.

“I know.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know how you made me come quick?” You asked.

“Yeah?” He smirked.

“Once I get my fingers inside you, it’s your turn,” you said before taking him into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks.

Max moaned loudly, a hand landing on your head.

Your eyes were on him, seeing his mouth open and eyebrows furrowed, watching you with a hungry gaze. You started bobbing, taking him further and further into your mouth, before coming up and licking a wide stripe from base to tip, swirling your tongue around it, and engulfing him once more.

“You look so fucking hot with my dick in your mouth,” his voice had dropped lower, raspier. “Such a pretty fucking girl, sucking my cock.”

You were moving your head up and down, getting him further and further in your mouth until you swallowed around him, tears leaking from your eyes as your nose brushed the curls at his base.

The low groan that rumbled from his chest had a shiver moving down your spine.

“Better than I ever fucking imagined,” his voice was strained. His hand moved to your throat, feeling himself bulging. “Fucking taking my dick in your throat, so fucking good to me.”

You had to breathe coming off of him with a gasp, a line of saliva connecting you to him.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he rasped, rubbing a thumb along your wet lower lip, his eyes glazed over.

His hand ended up back on your head as you took him back into your mouth, working him over while you grabbed the lube, squirting a generous amount onto your fingers, getting slicked up.

You had one hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t fit, and your lubed-up fingers moved, gently grazing his hole, Max jolting from the sudden contact.

“Relax,” you reminded before taking him back in your mouth.

You were swirling your fingers, getting him nice and slick, your mouth and hand continuing to work him. Once you were satisfied, you slowly started pressing in a finger.

“Oh, fuck,” Max gasped.

His hips thrust forward, making you choke a little, but you quickly recovered, feeling him fluttering around your digit as you pushed it in—tight as a vice—having to wiggle to get it all the way in, and watching his face, seeing the slight discomfort at first before his face relaxed, his mouth going slack.

“It’s not too bad,” he rasped.

Your head came up.

“Color?” You asked.

“Green. So fucking green.”

You smiled.

“You’re doing so good for me. Here comes the second. Just relax. There will be a stretch.”

“Relax. I can do that,” he nodded, eyes hooded as he watched.

You started sucking him off again as you slowly fingered him, getting him used to the foreign feeling before pressing in your second, him doing better to relax this time, arching his back as he groaned.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted.

Your fingers were moving in him, working him until he was moaning, and you thought he was ready for the third, pulling off of him to speak.

“Color?”

“Green. Give me the third.”

He looked a little excited, and it elated you that he was enjoying himself.

“Love the enthusiasm.”

You knew this one would be the hardest, so you distracted him with your mouth and hand again while working your fingers, getting him to the point that he was babbling praise, and finally, you pressed in the last finger.

A loud, long moan was pulled from his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut, his dick twitching in your mouth as you pushed in all the way. He pressed a hand over his face, his other gripped tight on the blanket.

Your hand stilled, letting him accommodate the intrusion, focusing on blowing him, tonguing the underside, and circling the tip, over and over again, Max having to clutch at the bed with both hands and groaning.

Finally, you started moving your fingers again, fucking him open slowly, his hips bucking into your mouth.

“Why does this feel so fucking good?” He gasped.

You twisted your fingers a bit, scissored them, really making sure he was loose, his body shivering as you did it. Max attempted to speak but couldn’t make words, whining moans falling from his lips as you kept working, delighting you that he was rendered speechless for the first time since you’d met him.

It was time for the finale, and you were dripping with excitement. You knowingly crooked your fingers to hit that one spot inside him, pressing into it, and immediately, Max was spilling into your mouth—coming so hard his back arched, fingers gripping your bedding with enough force to rip the blankets, shouting your name in a strangled cry. You swallowed down his salty taste, an odd sensation that it was cold as you drank down every drop before coming off of him with a smile, feeling good about what you’d done.

Max sunk into the pillows behind him, eyes closed, looking absolutely blissed out and not even bothering to pretend to breathe. You didn’t know if he lost consciousness; he was as still as a statue—la petite mort personified, and it made you giggle as you pulled your fingers out of him, leaning to grab the towel to wipe them clean.

Your attention moved back to Max, seeing the torn blankets, and you briefly wondered if you could get away with charging new ones to the company credit card. You’d have to remember to ask him later.

“So,” you started. “What did you think?” You asked after a minute.

He peeked one eye open to look at you.

“I think I’m in love with you,” the words came out dreamily.

You laughed.

“You came that hard?”

“Marry me.”

You snorted.

“I’m not marrying you.”

“Have my vampire babies.”

“You can’t have children.” You paused. “Wait, you can’t have children, right?”

He frowned.

“No, I can’t,” he answered sadly. “Sperm are dead.” He sighed, closing his eye again.

It had never crossed your mind that Max would ever want to be a father.

“You know what that means?” You asked.

He blinked open both eyes, all feline-like, as he looked at you.

“What?” He asked.

“You can come inside me.”

You watched his face slowly light up, a big grin spreading on his lips.

“I can fuck you?” He asked, sounding excited.

You smirked.

“Max Phillips, you are invited into my pussy.”

He tried to hold in the laughter, but it just burst from him, loud guffaws, his eyes crinkling and dimple showing, his mirth making you laugh.

It took you a minute to both calm down.

He leaned forward and grabbed you, easily bringing you into his lap, kissing you the moment your faces were close. His hands cradled your jaw, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with your own, the two of you making out until it heated up and his hands were all over your body.

His eyes were dark pools when he pulled back to look at you.

“I want you to fuck me,” his voice was a deep timbre that had a tingle moving down your spine. You could feel him already hard beneath you.

“How do you want it?” You asked.

“Doggy?”

“Okay, let me get set up.”

You kissed him quickly before moving off the bed and putting everything on, going with the smaller of the two dildos.

Max was already getting into position when you crawled back onto the mattress, his head towards the headboard, ass facing you. There was just something about having a powerful vampire willing to get on his knees for you that had your body thrumming.

You moved in behind him, running a hand down his spine, making him shiver under your touch before you admired his rear, your hands massaging the plump flesh.

“Color?” You asked.

He looked over his shoulder, smiling.

“Green, babe!” He wiggled his ass. “I want you inside me.”

“If you want me to stop anytime, just say so.”

“I’ve got it, Sweetheart,” he winked before facing forward.

You grabbed the lube, pouring a good amount on his hole, and the black silicone cock settled against your center, getting it nice and slick with your hand. You had to admit, it was a bit heady, being in this position, knowing you were going to be the one to bring your partner pleasure, being in complete control.

Your hand smoothed along his spine again.

“You ready, Max?”

“Yep! So fucking ready. Put it in!”

You pressed the tip of the silicone against his opening and slowly started pressing in, Max loudly moaning, and you loved watching it disappear inside him.

The tip was in, and you paused, Max still making sounds that had your pussy throbbing.

“Is it too much?” You asked, squeezing his hip.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Fuck, it’s so good. More.”

The tone of his voice had you grinning as you pulled the tip almost all the way out and started pushing back in, doing this a few times with Max making noises that were almost inhuman before you started working in more of the fake cock.

Inch by inch, you slowly made your way inside until you felt a little bit of resistance and paused.

“You’re clenching, baby,” you purred, rubbing his hip bones. “Relax.”

“Sorry,” his voice was strained, relaxing enough that you could keep going. “God, it feels so fucking good.”

“I know,” you cooed. “You’re doing so good for me,” continuing to push in.

The sounds he was making were akin to manic moaning, clearly hearing how good he was feeling, making a thrill move through you.

“Fuck,” he cried. “Oh, fuck. Babe, it’s so good.”

Finally, you were all the way in, your hips flush against his ass, marveling for a moment at how it stretched him open.

He fell forward onto his elbows, whining out a long fuck.

“It’s so deep,” he panted. “Is it all the way in?”

“Yes. You good?”

“So, good. So, fucking good,” he moaned.

“Ready for me to move?”

“Please,” he whined.

You started moving, pulling almost all the way out and pushing back in, going slow at first, Max mewling with each stroke. It sounded like he was losing his mind in pleasure, the noises making your cunt clench, the harness rubbing deliciously against your clit, shooting sparks to your core, and you couldn’t help it when you moaned.

“You like this, pretty girl?” Max asked, the words raspy and breathy. “You like fucking me?”

“Yes,” you answered, speeding up your thrusts and making him tremble, his head falling forward as the deranged moaning got louder.

It was hot, having this man turn to putty underneath you and hearing the noises he was making, knowing you were making him feel that good. You had a good rhythm, gliding in and out of him smoothly, hearing the wet slap of your skin hitting his, your fingers digging into his hips for leverage.

There was that familiar build in your core, harness rubbing just right, and everything you were doing spurring you on, pounding the silicone into him.

“Oh, babe,” he whimpered. “Oh, fuck. I’m drooling.”

Heavy breaths were coming out of your mouth as you adjusted your angle, pulling a sound from Max you were sure the neighbors would complain about, focusing on that point, fucking into him, and making him keen underneath you.

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Oh, fuck. I love you. I fucking love you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as you kept pace.

“No, you don’t, Max,” you panted.

“I need to touch you—need to feel you,” he begged.

“Sit up on your knees.”

He did as you asked, his back pressed against your front, as you fucked into him, holding an arm around his torso, while your other hand reached to grab his cock, Max shuddering as you started stroking him, him reaching behind to grab your hip.

“Thank you,” he moaned. “Thank you.”

The muscles in your belly were tightening, so worked up from everything you were doing to him and making him feel. His hips were pushing forward into your hand while you kept thrusting into him, nonsense babbling from his mouth, his cock throbbing in your touch, knowing he was close.

Your hand was moving slickly over his length, precum steadily dripping from the tip. Max was so overcome with everything he started laughing manically, interspersed with moans.

"God, I wish I could kiss you," he whined.

There was something about the desperation in his voice that had a hot spike of arousal shooting to your core, loving how even in his pleasure-addled state, he couldn’t stop thinking about you—making you feel some type of way, and you liked it. You loved this man coming undone beneath you, pulling him apart, and the fact he trusted you so much.

You adjusted your angle, again and again, until a full-body shiver moved through Max, and he gasped out an oh, fuck, his legs trembling. You zeroed in on it, hard short thrusts, his fingers digging into the skin of your hip, whimpering loudly.

“You gonna come for me, Max?” You murmured. “You gonna be a good boy and come for me?”

The sound he made would make a pornstar blush, his back arching as he came, ropes, and ropes of his come, spilling over your hand, and it sent you over the edge with him, coming with a moan of his name as you sank your teeth into his back, euphoria coursing through your veins.

Max fell forward on the bed, and you went with him, his cool skin feeling nice on your sweaty body.

He was solid beneath you, making no sound, not moving, doing his impression of an unliving statue again. Your ear was pressed against his back, and it was weird not hearing the thumping of a heartbeat. It took you a minute to recover and your breaths to even out. You gently and carefully pulled out of him, rolling to lay beside him, his face turned towards you, eyes closed.

It was strange how comfortable you felt with him—how safe. He could probably kill you in the blink of an eye, and yet you knew deep down he would never harm you. You’d always known that. You couldn’t help yourself, reaching out to rub your fingers through his hair, hearing him make an almost purring sound.

An arm grabbed your waist and pulled you against his body, him moving onto his side to hold you against him, your face shoved into his chest.

“Is that a flashlight in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Max asked, his voice hoarse.

You snorted, the dildo wedged between both of your bodies.

“He lives. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Ariana Grande was right,” Max mused.

“What?” You asked in a confused tone.

“God is a woman, and she wears a strap.”

“Oh my god, Max,” you laughed. “So, you liked it?”

He leaned back to look at you.

“You up for round two?” He asked.

“You want me to fuck you again?”

“On my back this time,” he nodded.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll fuck you.”

His hand moved to the back of your head to pull you in, kissing you hard. He was quickly licking into your mouth and making you moan. When he finally broke it, he looked at you with dark eyes, simmering with want.

“When you’re done making me meet god again,” his voice was low and husky. “It’s your turn.”

“I thought god was a woman with a strap? I don’t see any ladies here to show me a good time,” you smirked.

“That’s my god. You’re going to find out your god is a big dicked vampire who’s going to make you squirt on his first try.”

Your eyebrow rose.

“You really think you’re that good?”

The look he gave you was full of promise and made you clench.

“Oh, Sweetheart, I know I’m that good, and soon you’ll believe it.”

“You can try.”

“And I’ll succeed,” he kissed you passionately. “Give you the proper worship you deserve,” he murmured against your lips.

He pulled back to look at you.

“But first,” he said. “I want you to fuck my brains out, and I want to stare at your tits while you do it.”

You sighed.

“And kiss you,” he added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

“You wanna try the bigger dildo?”

He thought it over for a second.

“Bring it on,” he nodded. “Ruin me, Sweetheart.”

Part 2 - Masterlist

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[almostfoxglove]

THE PRETTIEST

PART I: ANNOUNCEMENT

written for @quinnnfabrgay-writes & @hauntedhowlett-writes' #MONSTERSMASH24 challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: Max Phillips x f!Reader CREATURE: GHOST + MAX PHILLIPS WORD COUNT: 4.3k CW: Smut (piv), voyeurism/non-consensual voyeurism (he's invisible and reader doesn't know he's watching), Max is a bit of a creep okay he's doing his best here, protective!max, jealous!max, enough manager speak that I got tech startup flashbacks.

SUMMARY: After a restructuring at the company, Max finds himself dead—this time for good—and haunting his old duplex. Lucky for him, you move in.

read on ao3 | series masterlist | almostfoxglove masterlist

Of all the hell holes where one might waste eternity, Max is pretty sure his vacant duplex is the worst of them. Six rooms, two floors spined by a spiral staircase—all boring and hollow and dusty. Disgusting. How difficult would it have been to let him haunt the office? He could’ve leered over all those pathetic little office drones, driven them crazy forever. Fucked with their desk chairs, their hard drives, mixed up all their coffee mugs. Not that Max has mastered the art of affecting the material world yet, but he will.

Petty? Sure. But you can’t blame a guy for feeling a little owed after all management’s little reorganization. His relocation to the goddamn fucking afterlife—and to this prison of an apartment where there’s no one to subjugate or fuck, no less. 

What a waste of his potential. His talents.

Who knows how long he spends stuck alone in this place until someone shows up, but eventually people do. The real estate agent—Doreen and her little beehive hairdo, her eyebrows always penciled on too thin—and, over what Max estimates to be about three weeks, a parade of nobodies she tours around, preaching godless, truthless sermons of the duplex’s good bones and the good life they could have in these dreary fucking rooms. He’d be proud of her sales pitch if he weren’t so goddamn pissed.

He tries, he really does. Yells often, I’m right here, Dor-een, honey, right fucking here! And waves his arms in front of her face, but he can scream as loud as he likes; nobody hears a thing. 

For the first time in his many lives, people walk straight through him. 

There might be, possibly, some karma in that. 

Max doesn’t care for it.

It’s misery until the day Doreen brings him you.

Come on, Max whines, slouching lazily on your couch. Curled up with your bedsheets cloaked over your head, you rot on the cushions beside him, four hours deep in a Desperate Housewives marathon, oblivious to his company: your usual Sunday routine.

As usual you don’t hear him, don’t see him either. Sitting right beside you, making no dents in the pillows, his glossy dress shoes kicked up on the coffee table. Still he finds himself complaining, one hand gesticulating wildly at the screen, You’re killing me, baby. It’s obviously the fucking neighbor! Guy’s got a box of death under his pool!

Meanwhile you just sit there, enthralled as Eva Longoria struts about in her tiny skirts and tiny shoes. Max tells himself the only reason he stays in the room when you watch this garbage is for her and all the other pretty housewives or to leer at what bits of you peek out from your duvet each time you reach for your tea on the coffee table—a wrist, your elbow, and when you knock over the popcorn bowl and slip the sheets from your head, the lovely hollow of your perfect neck. Truth is, if you were to quiz him, he’d be able to cite the plot of the whole season beat for beat.

Not that he’s enjoying this, this—this garbage. Never.

No fucking way. He’s just perceptive. Has an excellent memory.

Plus this is the one way he gets to be close to you. Such a pretty little thing, taunting him without ever knowing it. That sweet mouth, those clever eyes. Showering with the bathroom door sometimes cracked like you know he’s here and dying to peek through the veil of your jasmine-laced steam. Chewing the ends of your pencils while you sketch out some masterpiece on looseleaf that you never get around to painting.

Sitting on your couch, at your dining table, at the foot of your bed while you brush out your hair after a long day—it’s the closest Max gets to feeling like being stuck here might not be hell, just purgatory: always a breath away from the thing he’d like to touch, but at least he’s not simmering in battery acid or being flogged. He’s had his share of blood-bag roommates—brief fascinations that drained so quickly—but you? You’ve lived in Max’s apartment for three months and he’s no less drunk on you than he was the day Doreen toured you around. Can’t quite put his finger on why. Maybe it’s the longing, the forest fire that sears through his ice-box chest every time your eyes skim his face by accident, never lingering. 

What can he say? Max is a man, after all. Under all the blood and monster.

And you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever seen.

When the show cuts to commercial you mute the TV, immune to the serpent-tongued promises of liars like him. Lured by nothing, by nobody. Already slinking from your bedsheet cave, all bare legs and cute little ankles striding out of the room, leaving him with the ghost of you, the smell of your perfume kissed into the duvet.

What he wouldn’t give for the chance to sell himself to you. He’d charm you all the way to your perfect knees.

In a way, you and Max are the perfect couple. You’re free to do as you wish, and he’s free to watch you every second that you spend at home, miserable the moment you leave for work in those tight fucking pencil skirts. No better than a dog, he spends his vagrant hours of isolation alternating between puppy-eyed pouting and anxious pacing, tortured until your evening return. 

How did he ever live here alone? Alive or otherwise. He can’t remember now. There are too many rooms, too few sounds, too few breaths, too few footsteps. He misses you. Your bedhead and pajamas, your blanket nest in front of the TV, the cute way you answer the phone. 

Today, you don’t come home till eight fifteen—and Max has spent thirteen hours losing what’s left of his mind.

Baby, he sighs, rushing for the front room at the first turn of the lock, a grin stretched to dimples in his cheeks. Seems even if you can’t hear him, Max can’t help talking to you, perhaps childlike in his belief that someday you will. Where the hell have you—

His sentence hacks itself in half, drops to silence, because you’re blushing when you come in, eyes shyly downcast, one hand shaking the rain loose from your hair, tendrils clinging to your cheeks. “Here,” you say, and for a beat Max thinks you’re speaking to him. His mouth drops, stunned. 

Is this it? Can you finally see him?

“Come in, come in,” you say.

Then a man steps in behind you, shuts the door behind his hulking form, and if there were any blood to speak of in his veins, Max is certain it’d boil at the sight of him. Tall and empty-headed, dopey as a dog, stomping his blocky, muddy shoes all over your hallway. Yours and Max’s. Getting goddamn filth on your hall carpet. Given just a few material cells, Max’d have this guy dead before he makes it to the living room, wouldn’t even bother drinking him. This breed of dumbass isn’t worth the mess.

But he’s useless. Less than a gnat. Sentenced to watch you trail this motherfucker who wouldn’t know Tom Ford from his Brioni into your kitchen, jackets shedding and small talk traded—boring, boring, boring, but you laugh when the guy makes a shitty joke about the weather. 

This guy, this nobody, gets to make you laugh while Max never even gets a chance to try.

On second thought, maybe this is hell after all.

“S’a nice place,” the dumbass says, laying his knockoff blazer over the back of a barstool. Cheap stitching. Terrible, too-thin lapels.

You look about the room as if standing in it for the first time and for a moment your eyes pass right over Max, whose long-dead heart winces. Yelps. If you could see him, there’s no way you’d entertain this guy. This nameless little worker bee. Max would make you laugh properly, how you laugh when something funny happens on TV or when you get a letter in the mail from your brother. Sudden and twinkling, often ending in a snort. Adorable.

Shrugging, you turn into your fridge and say, “Yeah, I like it,” and exhume two slim cans of vodka seltzer to set on the kitchen island.

Thank you, Max says, his arms crossed over his chest.

The dumbass’ brows flicker up as he regards your offering. Idiot. What was he expecting from a girl like you, a PBR? These are delicious. Elegant. Calorie wise. Max understands. Max would drink that with a smile and a thank you. 

Or maybe he’d skip right to drinking you.

Sensing his hesitation, you crack your can and take a sip. “They’re not as bad as they look,” you say, a nervous chuckle bittering your lips as you watch your date open his can and bring it to his nose to sniff. “Sorry. I don’t have anything else.”

You can do so much better, baby, Max sighs. You’ve got better right here.

Against his will, the hours pass. The evening goes on. You and the dumbass only drink half a can each—him with a half-snarled lip and you with a self-conscious twinge—but somehow by nightfall he’s got you scooching your barstool closer to him, allowing his slimy hand to rest on your thigh. 

Max bristles. Seethes. Don’t do it, he pleads to you, unheard. He’s not gonna fuck you right, just look at him. Send this idiot home and watch TV with me. Do anything but this guy, baby, anything but him.

You bend in slow motion and it’s agonizing, the tilt of your head as you press your lips to his. The wet slurp of his mouth taking the second you meet. A terrible kiss, though you’re polite enough not to flinch. Breaking from the prod of his pink-slug tongue to offer your neck, his mouth immediately moving, and fuck baby, it’s like you’re trying to kill him all over again. Drive a stake straight through Max’s blackened heart by giving up what he longs to claim.

In an instant, anger births itself from the hollow of his chest. His hand shoots out in useless violence, swinging as if to strike a seltzer can from the countertop and knowing it won’t do a lick of good as ire devours him, igneous and fervid, searing hot as life in his icy hands.

The can jumps from the counter and clunks to the floor, its contents gluggluglug-ing across the tiles.

“The fuck?” Max hears the dumbass gasp as he leaps from his barstool, eyes bugged wide and child-like and weak. You freeze, lips pink and swollen, staring down at the emptying can. 

It’s a shame neither of you can see the way Max smiles. 

Now that’s what I’m talking about, he crows. Finally a little substance around here! 

This is good. No, it’s better than good. This is the rush after a promotion, after the deal that closes out the quarter over target. The look on every sad sack’s face knowing they lost and he won.

This is the bite that finally breaks skin.

Maddening, burgeoning, addictive.

He’s real again. A goddamn Beetlejuice for you, baby. He’s gonna scare this fucknut out of here and have you to himself. First was the can, next is you, and he’s gonna kiss you so much better than that. In celebration, Max kicks one foot to send the can soaring across the kitchen floor and watches his shoe pass right through it, aluminum undisturbed on the floor. No, he mutters, kicking again. No, fucking—come on, you worthless piece of shit—

Your nervous laugh is too far away to comfort him. Distant too is your voice saying, “My room’s this way,” and the shuffling of your footsteps as Max loses his shit on the seltzer can that now refuses to budge no matter the swell of his outrage. By the time he snaps from his incensed trance, your barstools are empty. He blinks, breathless with muscle memory—his lungs wheezing because they remember wheezing, not out of need.

Baby? he calls out.

But you reply. A murmur too lusty to be a giggle—Max’s body coils up at the sound, taut and needy, and carries him toward the sound. He forgets, briefly, who you’re with. Believes he’ll find you in your bedroom alone beneath the covers, hands fluttering as you bring yourself to the edge of release. How beautiful you’d be, gasping in pleasure. He might close his eyes and pretend it’s him drawing out your every breathy, needy sound.

You’ve left the bedroom door cracked, and though in death he’s no longer bound by silly things like permission, Max has since you moved in found himself in the habit of respecting closed doors. Walls are chalk outlines over which he’s free to step, but he doesn’t, not if you’ve closed the gate. He’s not a monster. Or not a total monster—whatever, semantics. Point is that he only spies on your showers if you’ve cracked the door. Indulges in the soft moments of you sleeping only when you’ve left him that sliver of room.

Like the room you’ve left him now: slender and tempting, this stripe of your bedroom wall. A Degas print in a copper frame, the wooden post at the foot of your bed. 

Your sweet voice cooing here, like this, and the creak of your mattress.

Something black and silty sinks in Max’s stomach when he steps inside. Not the rage from moments ago. Something darker, heavier. Jealousy. Half-sheeted by your duvet, the dumbass you’ve brought home rocks above you, his shirt gone, his beefcake arm blocking the view of your chest, and though you’re making all the right sounds it’s obvious this isn’t any good.

He’s not fucking you right.

Your hands clawing at his back are too stiff. Your yeses a beat too slow. As the idiot pants—thrusts choppy and graceless—Max watches your hand tap his shoulder blade as you breathe, “Flip over.”

“What?” bumbles the guy, his hips stalling. “Oh shit—fuck yeah. Okay.”

Another grunt, then he rolls off and Max gets a glimpse of you—your red bra lacy and see through, your nipples so pretty underneath. It just isn’t right, the awkwardness of this colossal douchebag as he settles on his back and you ruck back the covers to straddle him, not at all breathless, hardly even flushed, your hair all messy at the back from disappointing friction.

“Shit,” the guy gasps as you sink down on him, clamping those boorish hands onto your waist.

You don’t even whine, not even as you start to rock, though his breathing gallops beneath you. Guy looks two seconds from nutting while you look years away from anything even loosely resembling an orgasm—your rhythm changing often as you try and fail to find a pace that suits you. “Christ—oh my god, ” the guy groans.

Max sucks his front teeth, tongue soiled with venom.

“Touch me,” you sigh, bouncing now. The curtain of your hair shivering down your back. 

This guy fucks like he’s never touched a woman before. At your request his knuckles only pale, fingers pinching you tighter. That’s not what she means, Max growls. Touch her fucking clit, you pin-dicked imbecile. Can’t fucking please a woman, should be fucking ashamed—

His pointless ranting is cut short by a sudden moan as the guy lifts you off him in time to come all over his stomach, chest rapid in its heaving, upper lip snarled in pleasure he doesn’t have the goddamn decency to return to you. For a long moment you hover above him, waiting, but his head just slumps back against the pillow, satisfied. 

Done.

He’s actually done. Motherfucker.

When you crawl off him to sit back against your headboard—arms crossing over your stomach self-consciously—Max sees red. Sees fire. Sees the roiling magma at the center of the earth where someone oughta make this fucker take a nice hot bath. 

He’d do this right. He’d fuck you properly, have you coming apart at the seams, go down on you until you beg for his cock and edge himself for as long as it takes to have you screaming his name. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel him here, right now? Can’t you feel how bad he wants you? Can’t you imagine how much better he’d be? How good he’d make you feel?

Letting out an airy chuckle, the brute wipes the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and pushes himself to his feet. Redresses with a goddamn smirk on his face—not one of cruelty, but it might as well be. He thinks this is a job well done. Time to go home. 

A peck to your lips, then he’s rattling on about calling you, seeing you again, maybe Thursday? Friday? While you just sit there, blinking up at him in disbelief. “Sure,” you say, dazed and not quite thinking. “I’ll call you.”

Yeah, she’s not calling you, Max snarls, following the guy out of the room. Watching as the jackass plucks his jacket from the back of your barstool, steps over the mess of seltzer without a thought to clean it up for you, and waltzes right out the door. Not a care in the goddamn world. 

Though he hears you get up shortly after to use the bathroom, you don’t emerge from your bedroom and Max doesn’t disturb you. He spends that time in the kitchen, grabbing and grabbing and grabbing at the dish towel hung over the handle on the oven door, trying to pull it off. 

For at least an hour, his hand glides through the towel as if it’s water, not a flutter or sway in the fabric. Not even a brush, a compromise. It just hangs there, indignant. Mocking him. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead. Maybe it’s the Senior Sales Manager in him, the apex predator at the top of the food chain—but Max can do this all night. He’s not backing down, not letting a stupid fucking towel get the better of him. That lazy curtain of terrycloth will disintegrate before he waves the white flag. 

Beyond the picture frame windows that stare out into the barren, colorless street, the sun has shied to navy blue, letting out the round-mouthed moon, and you have not emerged from your bedroom for hours. He wants to check on you, ask if you’re okay. Frankly, baby, he’s getting a little worried. On the next sweep of his hand, the towel gives up the ghost; Max pulls it from the oven handle, marveling at the toothy fabric. He’s holding it, really holding it, all on his own. 

Thank fuck he’s not haunting the office. If any of those bull-brained fucks saw him now, as he kneels on your kitchen floor, he’d have to die all over again. Somehow. The technicals aren’t important—what’s important is that no one’s here to see him on his fucking knees, mopping up the spilled drink. Something like joy burbles in his chest when he reaches for the can and seizes it, placing it safely on your counter. The floor dry and shining again, clean. 

Max folds the towel carefully and returns it to the rack. 

As if on cue, the bedroom door croaks down the hall and you emerge. A huge t-shirt slumps from your frame; you’ve tied your hair up, put your glasses back on. Dressed down for the last dregs of night, rubbing the back of your hand in one eye, tired. 

You look so, so tired.

I’d rub your shoulders, baby, Max sighs quietly and though you won’t hear him, it still—after three whole months—doesn’t feel any less right to hope.

He steps out of your way as you round the corner into the kitchen with a yawn, hands clasped behind his back, cheek dimpled and eyes alight. Just like he wanted, just like he hoped, your eyes fall immediately to the floor where the can is missing, the spill wiped. Lashes flickering—the towel dark at the hem on its handle, the empty can on the counter. Your brows pinch low over your nose, curious. 

Pretty good for a dead guy, Max grins.

How sweet, that lifting flinch at your mouth’s sharp, pink corner. The soft hm you make in reply. It’s not much, but this strange, fluttery feeling in the dark cavity one might wrongly call his heart? It doesn’t feel half bad. 

Not bad at all.

He’s getting better at it. Not great, but the projections look good. Give him a little time, he’ll have this whole place dancing. Put on a big show, announce himself properly. 

In the meantime he practices when you’re not looking. Small stuff—he opens cupboards. Shuts them. Hits start on the dryer when you forget to press it yourself. Some days he wastes reaching for things and coming up empty, but now again his luck sparkles. Things move. Bend to his will. Isn’t long until he can hold it for a while—gathering the matter to run the vacuum around, or reorganize your pantry. A tidy house makes a tidy mind, baby. No good living in a dump. You’re so busy, always cracking around like a ping pong ball, and hell, it’s not like Max can leave this place, get a little air in his idle lungs.

He likes being useful to you. Likes that tiny smirk on your lips when you find something fixed or organized for you, even though you likely chalk it up to having forgotten that you did it yourself. Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need the credit. Isn’t that strange? How often he smiles at you? How perfect he finds the taste of your name.

Winter has arrived like a secret—whispered about for weeks and then suddenly let loose on the world. You come home from work in the evenings with icing sugar hair. Usually unbothered, far as Max can tell, but today you stagger in flushed from the cold and dark in the eyes.

Shit, baby, Max says when he sees you. Bad day?

Sniffling, you drop your coat right there in the hall, let it puddle over your shoes, and stalk off on a mission, barreling into the kitchen. The fridge door rips open, casting blue-white light over your face, and you must feel a hell of a lot worse than you feel because you don’t even blink at the contents inside. All the shelves wiped clean, the bottles arranged with the labels facing out, those wilted, bad greens deposited in the compost. You just reach in for the half-drunk bottle of Riesling that to Max smelled mostly like juice and swipe off the lid.

You chug on your way to the couch, leaving the fridge door open behind you.

Max closes it when you’ve gone, the TV already switched on in the living room, the lilting strings of the Desperate Housewives theme song swimming through the air. When he turns the corner he finds you wrapped in the throw blanket he now knows the texture of—supple and velvet, weighted and warm—with the wine bottle nestled in your lap. 

A silver tear hangs on your cheek. 

Really bad day, whatever it was. 

He wants to ask. Wants to pull you into his arms and pet back your hair. Wants to lick that sadness from your skin. 

Maybe this isn’t the show he’s imagined. Not much of a reveal—but you look so small right now, alone on your couch. Wine splashing in its bottle as you bring it to your lips, not bothering to wipe that tear away. If Max had a heart that beat, it’d stutter as he watches you. Helpless isn’t something he cares to feel.

No time like the present. Max sighs, scrubs a hand down his face as he ticks his jaw to one side, and nods. Alright, baby, he relents. Hang on.

On his way to the bathroom he cracks all the knuckles on his left hand, rolls his neck, swings his shoulders. Stretches himself long and limber like he’s about to run—but this is it. Curtain’s coming up. Time to find out if one glimpse of him sends you sprinting for the hills. Though he casts no reflection, Max stands before the mirror hanging over the sink and straightens his tie, corrects his lapels. Old habits, but it never hurts to look good.

Hand waggling, then, over the tissue box on the counter. He slaps himself hard, sending a delicious ripple of pain across his cheek. Come on, he begs. Don’t play hard to get.

The box lifts.

Here he comes: tissue box in hand, stalking tall and proud down your hallway with his chin up, shoulders back. Gets the momentum rolling, doesn’t hesitate, just waltzes in.

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes round and brows rising. To you it must look like the tissues float through the air to your side. Max steps back with butterflies jittering in his bones. 

Don’t be scared, he pleads. It’s just me.

With your head cocked to one side you consider this, though you’ve not heard his voice. Probably for the best. Came out a little softer than he meant it to, a little needy, and that’s just not becoming of a man like him. He has a reputation to uphold, even now. 

After a long, bludgeoning pause you click your tongue, swiping one white tissue from the box to turn over in your hand. Deliberating. Then your face cracks, possessed by a slithering smirk. Your gaze flickering so close to him it’s almost as if you’ve looked him in the eye. 

Deep in his chest, Max feels a strange throb—his stirring heart—as you say out loud, 

“I knew someone was there.”

dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals!

@ak-vintage @thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @harriedandharassed 

@burntheedges @jolapeno @la-eterna-enamorada29 @iknowisoundcrazy @guiltyasdave

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @sweetpascal 

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @helenanell

@pedgito @pastelpinkflowerlife @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours 

@noisynightmarepoetry @kyberblade @beezusvreeland @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack 

@pedrospatch @yopossum @toomanytookas @sawymredfox @galway-girlatwork

@ppascalrain @bbyanarchist @amanitacowboy @milla-frenchy @schnarfer

[wannab-urs]

I love finding good Max Phillips fics ugh. Also!! I love the movie this is based on so it was just all around an excellent read!!!

Series Masterlist

ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa presents:

Thank you to @winters-buck​ for the header & fic is dedicated to @rae-gar-targaryen​ for her friendship and thank you to all my readers and supporters. 

Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader (The Proposal AU) Word Count (Complete): 59,233 Rating/Warnings: NC-17 - Smut, language, adult themes, sexual innuendos, workplace harassment, family issues, angst, hurt/comfort, manipulation

Summary: After countless late nights and giving up important things in your life for a job and a man that refuses to promote you, your family begs you to quit when you break it to them that you have to miss your grandmother’s 85th birthday. Max Phillips may have left the country an American citizen but he came back an undead vampire, meaning his status in the States is no longer valid. In order to not get deported to Romania, he tells immigration that the two of you are getting married and he strikes a deal to make it worth your while. (** means the chapter is explicit/has smut)

Chapter 1: The Mistake & The Lie Chapter 2: The Proposal & The Deal Chapter 3: The Ring & The Save Chapter 4: The Story & The Sleeping Arrangements  Chapter 5: The Insult & The Responsibility Chapter 6: The Dog & The Heart-To-Heart Chapter 7: The Offer & The Dance** Chapter 8: The Gift & The Monster Chapter 9: The Down & The Scar** Chapter 10: The Threat & The Defender**  Chapter 11: The Wedding & The Confession Chapter 12: The Chase & The Second Proposal Chapter 13: The Happy Ending (Epilogue)**

[burntheedges]

Roll-A-Trope Challenge Masterlist

Y'all the response to this challenge blew me away!! 🥺🥰 We are going to have so many amazing fics to read! 🧡 Check here for all of the character/trope pairings from when people joined.

I'll link each one as they're posted. Under the cut you'll soon find fics for Dave York, Dieter Bravo, Din Djarin, Dio Morrissey, Ezra (Prospect), Frankie Morales, Jack Daniels, Javi Gutierrez, Javier Peña, Joel Miller, Marcus Acacius, Marcus Moreno, Marcus Pike, Max Phillips, Nathan Landry, Oberyn Martell, Pero Tovar, and Tim Rockford! And so many amazing tropes!!

Last updated: 11/4 | Fic count: 52!

Dave York

Audience of One by @katareyoudrilling | 3k | Dave x f!reader Trope: famous person AU

Can You Remember Who You Were? by @punkshort | 9.1k | Dave x f!reader Trope: reincarnation

Danger Zone by @almostempty | 6k | Dave x Lana Kane (you) x Sterling Archer (crossover with Archer (TV)) Trope: snowed in

Down Bad by @schnarfer | 6.1k | Dave x f!reader | part 2 Trope: only one bed (and bonus, it's a coffee shop AU!)

Sunshine & Rainbows by @jeewrites | 10.1k | Dave x f!reader Trope: amnesia

Dieter Bravo

Broken Hearts Mended by @bitchesuntitled | 6.1k | Dieter x f!reader Trope: time travel

Just like the Picture by @nerdieforpedro | 936 | Dieter x gn!reader Trope: landlord

Teleportation and Blue Whiskey (part 1) by @davnittbraes | 1.5k | Dieter x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator

this protector by @perotovar | 3.1k | Dieter x Din Trope: only one bed

Din Djarin

Familiar yet Foreign by @whxtedreams | 3.7k | Din x f!reader Trope: fake marriage

New Home (Part 1) by @weirdoneattheparty | 2.1k | Din x f!reader Trope: friends to lovers

something worse by @corazondebeskar-reads | 3.2k | Din x f!reader Trope: enemies to lovers

The Long Way Round by @din-cognito | 3.17k | Din x gn!reader Trope: road trip

Dio Morrissey

Crimes Against Each Other by @crowandmousewritingco | 2.9k | Dio x trans!reader Trope: enemies to lovers

Ezra (Prospect)

To Leave the Green by @cas-readsandwrites | 2k | Ezra & Cee, gen Trope: time loop

Frankie Morales

a kiss, my panacea by @skittlesfics | 917 | Frankie x gn!reader Trope: sickfic

Better Love by @docharleythegeekqueen | 3.4k | Frankie x reader Trope: snowed in

Dreamers (part 1) by @beefrobeefcal | 3.4k | Frankie x reader Trope: soulmates | now with Part 2!

Forever starts tonight by @sawymredfox | 3.6k | Frankie x f!reader Trope: pining

GOING DOWN by @aurorawritestoescape | 3.4k | Frankie x f!reader and Joel x f!reader Trope: exes

I Like You A Latte by @inept-the-magnificent | 752 | Frankie x f!reader Trope: coffee shop AU

I'm Yours by @ashleyfilm | 3.2k | Frankie x reader Trope: secret relationship

To Feel Your Body Against Mine by @flightlessangelwings | 4.5k | Frankie x f!reader Trope: secret relationship

Jack Daniels

If I should die before you do by @maggiemayhemnj | 1.7k | Jack x f!reader trope: soulmates

Life's a Dance by @wordywarriorwrites | 2k | Jack x reader Trope: didn't know they were dating

Lucid Dreams by @fhatbhabiee | 3.2k | Jack x reader Trope: friends to lovers

Javi Gutierrez

Things You Knew by @eff4freddie | 8k | Javi G x reader Trope: soulmates

To Make a Day for You by @yopossum | 3k? | Javi G x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator

Javier Peña

3 sides of a man by @milla-frenchy | 3.3k | Javi x f!reader Trope: secret relationship

between two floors by @glowingxeyes | 1k | Javi x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator | there’s a part 2 and 3!

GOING DOWN by @almostfoxglove | 3.3k | Javi P x f!reader Trope: stuck in an elevator

good guys, bad deeds by @miss-oranje-disco-dancer | 3.9k | Javi x f!reader Trope: only one bed

Joel Miller

Birds of a Feather by @whocaresstillthelouvre | 5.3k | Joel x f!reader Trope: snowed in

Besties by @butterphii | >1k | Joel x f!reader

drive by @kedsandtubesocks | 2k | Joel x f!reader Trope: road trip

For Better or Worse by @captainredspade | Joel x f!reader Trope: fake marriage

Fragile State by @galway-girlatwork | 2.5k | Joel x OFC!Tara Trope: amnesia

Galway Girl by @yxtkiwiyxt | 7k | Joel x f!reader | part 2!! Trope: soulmates

If You're Reading This by @crowandmousewritingco | 4.5k | Joel x nb!reader Trope: epistolary

It Had To Be You by @jobean12-blog | 4.8k | Joel x f!reader Trope: enemies to lovers

Wish by @hotgirlbedtimescenarios | 1.7k Trope: time travel

Marcus Acacius

Searching for the stars by @the-mandawhor1an | 2.7k | Marcus x f!reader Trope: time travel

Marcus Moreno

Through Every Lifetime by @joelalorian | 4.5k | Marcus x f!reader Trope: reincarnation

Marcus Pike

Pike's Place by @pedges-world | Marcus x reader Trope: snowed in | series!!

Max Phillips

A Little Broken by @clawdeewritesfanfic | 3.2k | Max x f!reader Trope: pining

Time After Time by @grogusmum | drabble | Max x f!reader Trope: reincarnation

Nathan Landry

consensus ad idem by @sunshinehaze1 | 4.9k | Nathan x f!reader Trope: snowed in

Oberyn Martell

sweet and sour by @iamasaddie | 5.5k | Oberyn x f!reader Trope: fake relationship

The Correspondence of the Contagious by @crowandmousewritingco | 1.4k | Oberyn x gn!reader x Ellaria Trope: epistolary

Pero Tovar

Memories made, memories lost by @avastrasposts | 7.9k | Pero x f!reader Trope: amnesia

Tim Rockford

Keep Quiet by @auteurdelabre | Tim x f!reader Trope: secret relationship

When Only Memories Remain by @artsy-girl-76 | 3.4k | Tim x f!reader Trope: "shop" AU

[guiltyasdave]

it’s that time of the week again 🫶🏻 and it’s rather heavy on series this time, so if you’re looking for a good long fic to dig into, you might find one here :)

as always, if you read any of these and enjoy them, please show the writers some love <3

for a list of all my recs ever, go here!

i'll sort the fics by character and add emojis to indicate the contents a little. still, please look at the tags/warnings and decide for yourself if something might not be your cup of tea.

💘= fluff • ❤️‍🔥= smut • 🤍= angst • 🖤= dark

aaaand a new one:

📖= oneshot • 📚= series

dave york

solum by @ezrasbirdie ❤️‍🔥🤍🖤📖

the honey inside your hive by @ezrasbirdie ❤️‍🔥📖

rare by @ezrasbirdie 💘❤️‍🔥📖

work song by @eupheme 💘🤍📖

dave york & marcus pike

playdate by @daddy-dins-girl 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

desires & complications by @ezrasbirdie 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

din djarin

i’d look for you by @undercoverpena 💘📖

javier peña

on call by @hellishjoel 💘❤️‍🔥📖

old habits die hard by @liltangerineart 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

joel miller

chrysalism by @gasolinerainbowpuddles 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

birds of a feather by @macfrog 📖

does anyone know where the love of god goes? by @shellshocklove 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

i wanna be your lover by @shellshocklove 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

curls by @tommysversion 💘❤️‍🔥📖

your summer dream by @swiftispunk 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

heartbeat by @joelsgreenflannel 🤍📖

the art of breaking by @corazondebeskar-reads ❤️‍🔥🤍🖤📚

resting eyes by @frenchiereading 💘📖

woman by @dancingtotuyo 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

max phillips

i cannot get you close enough by @leslie-lyman 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📖

in other news

i have nothing new of my own writing to share this week, but in case you missed it and want to join, there’s now a dave york brainrot discord server 🥰 click here for more info <3

[wannab-urs]

Hozier Drabble Challenge Masterlist

Howdy folks!

Welcome to the Hozier Drabble Challenge. Each writer was given a song and a pedro boy and challenged to write a drabble based on that. Please heed the warnings on each fic! Happy Reading!

Main Masterlist | Fanfic Events | AO3 | Kofi

Hozier

The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To by @freelancearsonist - Joel

In a Week by sweetercalypso - Marcus Pike

Sedated by @luxurychristmaspudding - Dave

Cherry Wine by @julesonrecord - Whiskey

It Will Come Back by @beskarandblasters - Max Phillips

Foreigner's God by kewwrites - Dave

Work Song by @eupheme - Dave

Like Real People Do by fhatbhabie - Frankie

Wasteland, Baby

Talk Refined by @ohforficsake - Ezra

Sunlight by @lotusbxtch

Nina Cried Power

Moment's Silence by sp00kymulderr - Oberyn

From Eden

From Eden by planet-marz1 - Dieter

Unreal, Unearth

Butchered Tongue by blind-assassin-12 - Din

Given a Name by @missredherring - Oberyn

De Selby Part 1 by beardedjoel - Frankie

Eat Your Young by jksprincess10 - Marcus Moreno

Damage Gets Done by burntheedges - Max Phillips

Unheard

Too Sweet by missredherring - Din

Fare Well by @nerdieforpedro - Dieter

[wannab-urs]

GOD he’s such a dick. I need him. Max in sweatpants is criminal enough and then you put him in a towel ughghgh i need him.

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐋

PAIRING: gym owner!max phillips x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 679

SUMMARY: Gym owner Max Phillips offers to let you use the sauna. In return, he uses your mouth.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: written for @iamasaddie zodiac writing challenge. prompt photo can be found at the end of the post. zodiac divider by @/saradika-graphics and a big thank you to @pedgito for reading this over for me

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), no use of y/n, able bodied reader, dirty talk, crawling, oral (m receiving), no aftercare, semi-public sex.

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

The benefit of your local gym being run by a vampire is that it was open twenty-four hours, giving you the opportunity to go during the weird times where the gym was practically empty save for the nocturnal owner, Max Phillips. He scans your Blood, Sweat, and Tears Gym membership card with a sharp grin and a lingering gaze each night you visit, though you don’t exchange more than a few words.

Until tonight, that is.

You’ve just finished a grueling workout and you’re doing your cooldown stretches on a yoga mat when he approaches, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. You try hard not to let your eyes drop to the very prominent outline of his dick that’s right at your eye level.

“You know what would be great for you?” He asks. “Fifteen minutes in the sauna. You’ll feel brand new.”

“Doesn’t the sauna cost extra?” He waves a hand dismissively.

“It’s on me.”

Max gets the sauna ready for you, leaving a towel in the changing room that you use to cover yourself after stripping out of your sweat soaked workout clothes. You open the door, a cloud of steam smacking you in the face as you enter and find that your session won’t be spent alone.

“Hope you don’t mind if I join you,” Max says. He’s sitting on one of two benches, a white towel that matches yours wrapped around his waist, exposing his tanned and toned chest. He gestures to the bench across from him. “Take a seat.”

You settle onto the unoccupied bench, keeping your legs crossed. As you sit together in silence, Max shifts positions on the bench, spreading his legs further apart and relaxing against the wall. Sweat begins to gather on your exposed skin and you’re not sure if it’s from the look in his eye or the steam. Your eyes travel his body, zeroing in on the way the towel is tented by a prominent bulge.

Max says something that you don’t quite catch and your attention returns to his face. He gives you a knowing look, a smirk tilting the corner of his mouth and embarrassment courses through you.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch what you said,” you tell him.

“I said, ‘It won’t suck itself,’” he repeats, tugging the towel loose from his waist and exposing his cock.

His thick length curves slightly toward his stomach, showcasing a prominent vein on the underside that makes your mouth water. You start to stand but he makes a clicking noise with his tongue that catches your attention.

“Crawl,” he says. Despite the smile on his face, his tone is laced with warning. You sink to your knees and he licks his lips, watching as you crawl on your hands and knees toward him.

Kneeling between his legs, you tentatively place your hands on his thighs. The muscles jump beneath your palms but otherwise he remains still. You wrap one hand around the base of his cock, sliding your tight fist slowly toward the flushed tip. His head drops back with a groan, muscles going lax.

“Show me what that pretty mouth can do, sweetheart,” he demands. You lean forward, holding him steady in your hand as you slide him between your lips, looking up at his face as you do. You take him slow and deep, as far back into your throat as you can, repeating the motions as he moans.

When his hips start to chase your mouth, you speed up your efforts. It’s not long until you feel a hand press to the back of your head and the warmth of his cum hits your tongue and you dutifully swallow. You sit back on your heels and he gathers the towel around his waist, standing from the bench. He cups your chin in his hand, smoothing a thumb across the corner of your lips.

“Next time, I’ll get my mouth on you,” he says with a wink.

He’s gone from the room before you get the chance to reply.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed this fic 💕

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

genre: smut, office romance

word count: 5k

summary: a week after walking in on your boyfriend fucking someone else, Max gives you the day off. You leave, unaware that you dropped your watch. Much to your surprise, he brings it to you. Your relationship with him escalates in the following days.

warnings: office sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, use of 'sir' & 'good girl', piv, dom/sub dynamics, very mild degradation (he calls you his cocksleeve like once), dumbification if you squint, soft!max at times

a/n: I drafted this months ago and only now I finally finished the fic, I have no idea why I waited this long especially since I'd written most of it back then but other wips got in the way--sorry Max lmaodvdf this is my first time writing for you and I hope I did you justice 🖤 I rewatched his scenes and I'm still so horny for this man it's making me look stupid

Max’s office is the nicest one of everyone who works in this building, albeit a bit darker. There’s a succulent on his desk that reminds you of a translucent star and you can’t seem to draw your eyes away from it. His voice is smooth and melodic but you aren’t really listening. Your hand moves over to your watch, feeling the coolness of metal underneath your fingertips. It’s nice. 

It’s safe to say that you’re not really paying attention to anything. 

Your eyes are wet still, a sting every time you dare to blink. It’s been a week since you found your boyfriend screwing someone else on the couch in the living room. The image still lingers in your head, taunting you. 

While you stared, unblinking as they scrambled for their clothes, all you could think of how happy you were that they didn’t use the bedroom. 

Now that the relationship is over it’s easier to see the red flags. The way he belittled you, your passions, the things that you enjoyed. Your body, your cooking, anything you did was never enough for him. It was an open invitation to mock you for who you were. And that was the least of it, he never touched you, and you had to beg him for sex— not in the fun kind if you might add. You feel so fucking stupid for trying to make him happy.

“You’re not listening are you?” 

You flinch upon hearing the question, eyes finally snapping away from the succulent and turning to Max. You didn’t mean to be so obvious about it. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. . . Great, another person you couldn’t make happy no matter what you did. 

“You’ve been like this all week. Is there something going on? You can take leave if you need to, you’re not really much use like this anyway” 

His words sting but you can’t really blame him for it. Though you did find it funny that as an immortal he was so pressed for time. 

“Sorry,” you say and he looks at you, really looks at you. Brown eyes move from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his own. “I’ll do better just some... personal stuff going on,”

“Family?” 

“Shitty breakup.” 

“Oh.”

Max appreciates bluntness. You figured that one out on your first day here. He isn’t a fan of keeping anything that might affect your work bottled up. He doesn't like the guessing game either. If there’s something wrong he wants to know and if he can he’ll fix it. Not that he can really fix a broken heart. 

He suddenly stands up, making his way around the desk. He lends against the edge, hands on his lap. Instictecly you curl your fingers around the armrests. Max is pretty docile for the most part, unless he’s hungry. But the way he’s looking down at you, brows relaxed and a faint smile tugging at his lips, it makes your heart drop. He’s a walking corpse but his eyes are more alive compared to most people you’ve met. 

“I’m sure you’ll be happier without commitment wearing you down,” he says, voice dropping, barely above a whisper. You shudder and fail to see the way his fingers twitch. “Don’t think about it, relax, sweetheart.” 

And you do. It’s like warm water dancing over your skin. Your shoulders slump, your body limply sinking into the chair. A lazy smile spreads across your lips and he smiles back, teeth winking at you between his plush lips. “That’s it. You’re not feeling anything  now, are you?” 

You giggle, shaking your head. Even your heartbeat slows, the tips of your fingers tingling with pleasure—

You blink, pinching your brows, you slowly roll your shoulders and hear your bones crack. Max is gazing at you with utmost curiosity, thumbs drumming silently.

Then it hits you. The fucker is using his powers. Fucking vampires. 

“Stop it,” you hiss, your body relaxed but mind racing. He rolls his eyes and waves his hand as a sign of dismissal. The tension that had disappeared from your muscles return at full force, and you jolt. “You shouldn’t do that,” 

“I was trying to help,” he answers without a care in his tone. He buttons his vest and gestures with his head to the door. “Take the rest of the day off. Sort yourself. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” 

“But—” 

“Just go. It’s fine,” when you fail to look convinced, he pouts and draws a cross over his chest. Ironic. “I swear. Now go, take the day off, collect your thoughts or whatever you need to do,” 

You leave without pointing out the irony of him making a cross over his non-beating heart. You’ve worked long enough to know that if the boss wants you to take the time off, you take the time off. 

Max drags his palm over his face, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he hops off the desk and turns to look at the empty seat you left behind. He’s not sure if he should be condoning this kind of behavior. He doesn’t want people barging in here asking to leave with the most minuscule of problems. But it isn’t typical of you to be distracted so he decided that you earned it. 

He’s curious about what kind of man would be stupid enough to leave you, let alone make you look that sad. Not that it’s any of his business. 

Max is amidst turning on his heel when he sees it. A small sparkle on the carpeted floor. Cocking an eyebrow, he leans over with his hands in his pockets. A watch? 

That’s right you had a watch when you came in, you were playing with it while he was going over the weekly sales. You must’ve dropped it. Looking almost bored, he scoops it off the floor and stares at it. He sees your initials written on the back, a pretty, delicate little accessory. 

Surely you would miss it. He knows your address due to dragging your drunk self back home after an office party— so maybe he should bring it to you. Max sighs and flips the watch over. He has time to make a quick stop. 

He leaves the office with the watch snug in his pocket. It really isn’t his style to be nice, or remorseful, but he does feel a tad guilty using his powers on you. He genuinely did think he was doing some good. It did look like you were feeling better until you broke out of the trance. 

Max steps into the elevator. The tedious music loud and scratching his ears as always. 

Taking a day off isn’t going as smoothly as you had hoped. 

Initially, you thought you would binge your favorite shows and eat a bucket of ice cream. Instead, you ended up staring blankly at the ceiling, arm dangling out from the side of the bed. It’s a shitty feeling. Your heart feels heavy and uncomfortable. Maybe Max taking away the pain wasn’t so bad after all? 

There’s a loud knock on the door and you jump. Every bone in your body aches, your heart beating fast as you head to the living room. You’re praying to every god you know that it’s not your ex. You don’t want to deal with him. Especially not today. 

You take a deep, calming, breath. It’s okay. He wouldn’t just show up now, would he? Stupidly enough you don’t look through the peephole before yanking the door open, the person that lurks on the other side takes you by surprise completely. 

It’s Max. 

What the hell? 

“Hiii,” he says with a smug grin. He lifts something to your line of vision and it takes you a moment to recognize your watch. “Found this, thought you might miss it.” 

Blinking, you open your palms and he drops it. It feels like a dream. “Uh…thanks,” 

“You’re welcome,” he peers over your shoulder, looking into the dimly lit apartment. “So how’s your day off going?” 

“Not as fun as I hoped,” you give him a bittersweet smile. His eyes meet yours, and you see your reflection in them, so bright. “Do you want to come inside?” 

A shudder climbs your spine when something dark crosses his face, eyes becoming sharper. Your stomach churns and you swallow, fingers tightening around the watch. 

“Would love to” he chirps, practically jumping over the threshold. “Thank you for the invite, much obliged.” 

“You really can’t come in without being invited?” you ask, closing the door with a push of your heel. 

“Nope,” he answers, emphasizing on the p. “Why do you think I left you at the door after the party? You were too drunk to say ‘come in’ I basically had to push you through the door just so you could crawl the rest of the way to your bedroom,” 

“I honestly thought you were just being an asshole,” 

He scoffs, “I am an asshole. Just not to the people I like,” 

He drops down to the couch, which in return makes your stomach sink. You really need to burn it, you don’t think you can have it in your apartment anymore. You sit across from him, placing the watch neatly on top of the coffee table. “I wasn’t aware you liked me,” 

“Let’s say tolerate. I like your work ethic.” 

“Thank you?” you answer, unsure.

“You’re very much welcome.” 

You’re not sure why you invited him inside. He doesn’t drink coffee unless it’s morning, and he doesn’t really like to eat as far as you could tell. The silence is deafening and uncomfortable. You part your lips to ask if he would like tea or anything else but he beats you to it, gaze fixated on you. 

“So, how did it happen?” 

Your throat goes dry, “What?” 

“The break-up,” he shrugs and leans back into the couch, you internally cringe. “Do you want me to break his neck or something?” 

“What—No!” you’re horrified but can’t ignore the way warmth blossoms in your chest. You’re highly aware that he’s joking, however, it’s still a nice thought that someone actually cares enough to get pissed about it. “Where did that even come from?” 

“I don’t know, I’m not sure I like seeing you so sad. It’s unnerving.” 

“Sorry that my misfortune is bothering you,” you answer, crossing your arms. “He cheated on me, and I’m only now realizing how shitty he was.” 

“Ouch.” 

“Yeah,” 

“So I do need to break his neck then?” 

You laugh. 

You aren’t expecting it, but here you are rubbing tears from your eyes as you laugh with your whole body. There’s just something about the way he said it; as if it was the most normal thing to do. He seems to enjoy the way you laugh. Smiling wide and bright, watching you with fond eyes. 

After minutes, your laughter starts to die down, softening into breathless giggles. You’re surprised to find that Max is still smiling at you, no smugness, no cockiness, just an earnest smile. 

“Thank I really needed that,” you say, heat building at the base of your spine. “Sorry if I worried you. It’s been a bit rough lately.” 

“We can’t all be perfect every second,” he grins, he flattens his palms over his thighs, moving them up and down. Your breath hitches, eyes involuntarily dropping to his crotch. You’re flustered all of a sudden. He tilts his head, tongue poking out of his cheek as he gives you an open-mouthed smirk. “See something you like, sweetheart?” 

Your eyes snap to his face, cheeks burning, “Nope. Not—Not at all,” 

He leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. There’s a table in between but you feel as if he’s a breath away. You swallow, goosebumps rousing over your skin. 

“You know I can smell it right?” he purrs. “I can smell the arousal gathering between your legs. I can hear the way your heart is beating… That asshole had no idea how to fuck you properly did he?” 

Your pussy bottoms out at his words. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction that he’s right, you don’t want him to know how badly you want him inside. For him to whisper praises into your ear as you squirm around his cock. You lick your lips. He’s not using his powers, you can tell. Yet you still want to blame it on the fact that he’s doing something to make you feel so hot and bothered. But it’s not him, just you. 

You’re not sure when you started to have the hots for your boss, but clearly, there was something there. Lurking in the darkness of your mind.

“Look at you,” he coos, eyes raking over your body. “So sweet and afraid. Let me be the first one to say that he didn’t deserve you. Not in the slightest,” 

“Max…” you warn. 

“Yeah…?” he mimics your tone, smile somehow wider. “Would you want to get coffee before work tomorrow morning?” 

The question catches you by surprise. You observe him for a brief moment, he seems dead serious—at least the amount of serious Max Phillips can be. 

You nod.

Your first early morning coffee date with Max goes exactly how you expect it to go. You pay for both coffees as a thank you. He found it unnecessary but grumbled a thanks anyway. He talks a lot about work; about sales, about his time in Romania. But mostly work. You do appreciate the distraction though so you don’t complain. You pitch in, telling him ways the company could improve but also adding that you want to quit one day and do something better with your life. 

The following mornings follow the same pattern. Mostly conversations about work, and sipping coffee. That is until Tuesday rolls around. It’s an especially cold morning and you find yourself huddling closer to him as the two of you sat on the bench. He doesn’t really seem bothered by the cold, which makes sense since he’s cold-blooded. 

Max’s eyes drop to your trembling fingers that were curled helplessly around the coffee cup. You notice his frown, his gaze lifts back up to meet your eyes. “Do you want to go inside?” 

“No, I’m good. Besides it’s too early to start working.” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “We do get here early don’t we.” 

“I mean…we don’t have to. But I have been enjoying our mornings.” 

“So have I,” he chews on his bottom lip, instinctively moving closer to you when he feels a shudder crawling up your spine. “It sucks that I can’t really warm you up—being undead and all— This would be the perfect moment to hold your hands.” 

Funnily enough, he does manage to warm you up. You look down at your hands, the cup only half full, you place it to the side. Max truly had been a balm to your broken heart these past couple of days. He never got overly flirtatious again as he did in your apartment, some part of you is disappointed that he didn’t. 

“You can—” you lick your lips, the wetness furthering the chill. “You can still do that. If you want to.” 

“Yeah?” he moves his jaw, eyes dropping to your lips. “You’ll be colder.” 

“I think it might be worth the risk.” 

Max brings your hands to his lips, brushing your knuckles and kissing each finger individually. You shudder. He wasn’t wrong, he was awfully cold. But you weren’t wrong either, it’s worth it. Hundred percent. His mouth moves over the back of your hand in the shape of waves, the pit in your stomach rolling, and butterflies fluttering in your chest. His eyes meet yours and you’re mesmerized by him. His eyebrows raise, lips kissing the curve of your wrist, laying a path to the inside, he drags his teeth over the skin right above the vein. 

A sudden fear spikes from your feet to your neck. He wouldn’t, would he? 

“Are you afraid of me?” the question is whispered with a breath into your skin. Everywhere except the tip of your nose is warm. He looks at you with heavy eyelids, lashes kissing his cheeks every time he blinks. 

You don’t have an answer, but you know what he needs to hear. 

“I’m not.” 

Before you can blink his lips mold into yours. He traces the seam of your mouth with his tongue eagerly, and you part your lips, allowing him to taste and dominate. With both hands he holds your wrists firmly, pulling you close until you’re basically flush against him. Max inhales as he presses deeper, licking the inside of your mouth and swallowing your whines. 

He breaks away from you with a smile, you see the flash of fangs.

You gently knock on the already open door. Max is positively exhausted. His eyes snap from his computer to you, he sighs and signals you to enter with two fingers. You close the door when you enter. 

“Are we still good for dinner?” you ask, feeling slightly foolish now that you were standing in the middle of his office. 

“Sorry baby, not today. These assholes managed to mix everything up, need to fix all that so I’m going to be here late,” 

You try very hard not to look disappointed. You already know you failed when you feel your bottom lip starting to quiver. You ball your hands into weak fists, pushing your nails into your skin. He notices, a moment of worry crosses his face. 

Tonight wasn’t really a date, or anything important. It was just dinner. 

Then why are you so upset?

You neither move away nor lean in as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, and you exhale at the way you can feel his chest move underneath you. 

“Nothing, just—Don’t worry about it. I’m just being clingy. I know you’re busy,” 

“Clingy? Oh, sweetheart,” he rolls his chair back and slaps his thigh. “Come, sit on my lap.” 

“Uh…” your eyes flit between his spread legs and his face. “Excuse me?” 

“Just get your gorgeous self over here.” 

Swallowing, your legs move on their own. Your heart does somersaults in your chest. His smile never falters as you slowly lower yourself down, feeling his frame under you. Your insides clench. Your arms shake. You feel his breath on your neck when he guides your arms around his neck. He presses his lips where your neck and chest meet, heat coils in your stomach. 

“Max…” 

“You could never be too clingy,” he murmurs. “And even if you were I would love it. I’m actually really happy you came over, I was starting to think this thing between us was going nowhere.” 

“You want it…to go somewhere?” 

“Of course, I fucking do,” he snaps, looking up, glaring at you. “Do you think I come here that early just to drink coffee—I like spending time with you.” 

You feel yourself start to tremble as his hands move up your thighs and cup your ass. He squeezes gently and you gasp, your skin prickling under his touch. His lips move away from your neck, pressing soft kisses up your jaw until he reaches your ear.

"I want to take this further," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to fuck you, sweetheart. Bend you over this table and make you scream my name because I’m sure haven’t been screaming anything for a while."

His hands move around your body, tracing the line of your spine and the curves of your hips. His touch is gentle and yet rough at the same time, your heart beats faster with each passing second. You melt into him, wanting more, wanting him.

“I want to feel your wet cunt around my cock,” he groans, dragging his teeth down the column of your neck. His voice drops an octave. “Let me fuck you sweet thing.”

You pause for a moment, and then you nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Yes," you whisper. "Yes, I want this too."

Max smiles, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. He nips at your bottom lip before pulling it and slipping his tongue into your mouth. Pulling you closer—inhaling you—he cups your head from both sides, and groans into your mouth. You feel the growing wetness between your legs, your body having a mind of its own, you grind down on him, shuddering as you feel the hard length under his pants. 

“Needy,” he tuts, gripping you by the neck. You hiss when he yanks you back, the rest of your body falling still. “You’ll take what I give you. Is that clear?” 

“Yes—” you bite the inside of your cheek. “Yes, sir.” 

Your cheeks burn as his eyes widen momentarily. Then he closes them, taking a steady breath, he cocks his head to the side. A soft hum echoes in his throat. 

“I like that,” he purrs, opening his eyes. “Say that again.” 

“Please, sir.” you choke out.

Max's grip tightens as he bends you over the office table. You gasp, your skin hot as he shoves your pants down to your knees. While you kick them off, you hear a zipper, feel the weight of his cock on the top of your ass. Your face is directly staring at the door— If someone were to waltz in, the first sight to greet them would see you taking your boss’s cock. However, you can hardly care when his warm breath fans your neck, his breathing uneven and rushed. 

He slips his hands down and cups your ass, kneading and squeezing as he shoves you further against the cold desk. 

"You look so sexy like this," he growls, his cock pushing against your ass as he presses himself against you. His hands move up your body, and he starts tugging at the buttons of your shirt, loosening them one by one. His lips brush against your ear and you shiver in anticipation as his hot breath tickles your skin.

"Say. It." 

It’s a threat and some wicked part of you is tempted to exhaust his patience. His hands move down your body, and his fingers start to tease your nipples as he traces circles around them. Then, when you don’t answer, he pinches them harshly. 

Your body jerks at the sharp pain, an acute moan rips from your throat. 

“Fuck me, sir. Please.” 

“You sound so good like this, begging for my cock,” he purrs. “I’m going to go easy on you today sweetheart, but don’t expect me to always be so nice.” 

He slides his hands lower, and his fingers slip between your legs, teasing and caressing your wetness. Your eyes roll back as his fingers start to penetrate you, and you grind downs in search of more. Wanting him deeper, wanting more of him. 

“So fucking wet,” he coos, he pulls out his fingers, smearing wet streaks across your hips. He nudges his cock between your folds and rocks his hips, the catches against your clit and a loud moan rips from your throat. “That’s my girl, and you thought I didn’t want this. What kind of idiot wouldn’t want this pretty cunt? Hmm?” 

“Max, please. . .” 

You hear the growl that rattles his chest. Closing his eyes, he cocks his head to the side, tongue tracing the edges of his fangs. “I really love hearing you beg,” he groans. “And the blood rush in your veins.” 

Your breath catches in your throat—and in one smooth thrust, he slips inside of you. You clutch the edges of the desk, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Suddenly the rest of the world blurs and it’s just you and him. He stretches you perfectly, his length deep enough to hit all the right spots. His hands smooth a path up your spine. You practically purr at the feeling. You whimper, and when you do, his lips are on your neck in an instant. His body a cool, yet comfortable, blanket on top of you. 

“Good girl. Look at you, being so obedient,” he licks the salt off your skin. “You feel so good, baby. The perfect cocksleeve for the boss.” 

“Oh god—” you choke out. You have no idea how to respond to that, but your body sure does. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him tight. His breath hitches. You feel him straighten behind you, his hands press you down from the waist and you can’t help the small squeal that parts your lips. 

He’s restraining himself. You can tell by the way his hips twitches, eager to bury more of himself into you. His nails bite into your skin and instinctively you raise your hips. “Maaax,” you moan. “Fuck me, please. I can take it.” 

“You can, can’t you?” he mutters, sounding almost impressed. “My perfect girl. You’ll take everything I’ll give you?” 

You breathe out, “Yes—” 

And he gives you everything. 

Every thrust knocks the air from your lungs. Somewhere on the desk your arm hits a stack of papers and they fly everywhere, making a mess on the floor. Max doesn’t stop. He jackhammers into you, splitting you into two. It never felt this intense before. Never. You struggle to breathe and with every snap of his hips, you feel slick dripping down your thighs. Max groans as he wraps his fingers around your neck, pulling you up. Your breasts sway with every stroke, your nipples aching from how hard they are. His one hand remains on your throat as the other moves to your chest, kneading the soft mound in his palm. 

“Wouldn’t be fun if someone walked in right now?” he teases, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Seeing you getting absolutely railed—kinda wish I had a mirror so I could see how cock drunk you look, sweetheart.” 

Fuck, is all you can think and you desperately want to voice it out, tell him how good it feels. His voice, his breath, his teeth, his cock— But all you can do is whimper helplessly, hoping that the sound is enough to convey how much you’re enjoying this. 

“So stupid for me, I love it. You want me to make you come?” 

Another whimper. You nod helplessly, forcing yourself back to meet the movement of his hips. He hums as his hand slides between your legs, he draws wet circles around your clit, and your entire body clenches. You can barely hear him from the blood rush in your ears but you think he mumbles ‘oh shit’. Max continues to play with the sensitive bundle of nerves, with fast strokes he mumbles profanities against your skin. 

You come with his name on your lips. Your body convulses, muscles clenching and unclenching over and over as you gush all around his cock. It feels never-ending. He grinds his hips, burying himself deeper, throbbing inside. You hiss as your second orgasm washes over you, fluttering and twitching, your body goes limp. You're fairly certain if Max wasn’t holding you up, you’d collapse. 

Much to your surprise, Max slowly lays you on top of the desk and the office ceiling comes into view. He’s still pulsing between your legs. He smiles down at you, slides his fingers between your lips—the same fingers he made you come with—and leans in to shove his tongue alongside them. You part your lips wide, the taste of yourself and him making your head spin. You moan around his tongue and fingers. He pulls back with a smile.

“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asks, cupping your face with the same hand. 

“You can come inside,” you answer in a daze, then quickly add. “You can’t get me pregnant right?” 

He shakes his head and you smile, “Go ahead then.” 

It doesn’t take him long. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes deep inhales of your scent as he spills inside of you. You thread your fingers through his soft locks and gently tug on them. He groans. 

“That’s nice,” he hums, pressing his lips over your clavicle. “I wanna spend an eternity between your legs.” 

“Should I be scared that you actually can do that?” you say with a soft chuckle, he looks down at you, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. He wiggles his brows. 

“Maybe.” 

Max slowly pulls out, and when he stands, he watches the mess pour between your legs. His pupils eat away the color of his eyes and you shudder at how hungry he looks. 

Suddenly shy, you avert your gaze as you try to collect yourself, “Sorry about messing up your schedule. I’ll see you later.��� 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

He grabs your wrists and pulls you into an embrace. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until you feel yourself melting into him. 

“Fuck work,” he says, his hand resting over the small of your back. “I’ll get it done later. Let’s go home so I can at least spend tonight between your legs.” 

You grin into his chest, happy that he can’t see how ecstatic you look. He probably knows how excited you are anyway. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

[almostfoxglove]

THE PRETTIEST

PART II: INTRODUCTION

RATING: Explicit (18+) | PAIRING: ghost!Max Phillips x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 5.5k CW: Max being a creep as usual, general voyeurism, impure thoughts (obviously) and general bloodlust. Brief discussion of death.

read from the beginning | series masterlist | main masterlist

SUMMARY: You know he's here—now it's time to talk.

CHAPTER PREVIEW:

You make a little hmph sound, lips betraying you when they snare into your cheek. Only lasts a second but you can’t hide anything from him. He’s pleased you. Made you smile. And just think, if you hadn’t left, he could’ve been doing this the whole time. Could’ve learned morse code by now and tapped out a goddamn novel of the things he wants to say and do to you. Then you spin back around, put your back to him, resuming your hunt for a snack. That’s it? he snarls. Without thought, Max's hand stings the counter smack-smack-smack-smack-smack until your head whips around, eyes knifed as a tired sigh pushes from your lips. “Jesus, I hear you, take a breath,” you huff.

READ PART II ON AO3.

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[wannab-urs]

adira… how dare you make me CRY with a fic about a stupid vampire frat boy?!

This is beautiful. Just absolutely stunning. I have a fascination with the concept of past lives, and I adore the way you’ve written about it here. The little spin on it with Max being able to see his past lives because he’s technically dead. The way Yaëlle calls him Max that first Noël. Ahhh it’s just so good 😩

I'll Leave a Light On For You

Fandom: Bloodsucking Bastards / Max Phillips

Pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n. (There is a little description, but it’s still you. Believe me, it will make sense. We’re dealing with the supernatural here.)

Rating: T. 

Warnings: Angst. Character death. Allusions to the atrocities of war and its lasting effects. Max is a vampire. Traumatic soul memory. Me assuming I know anything about French culture of the 1930s.

Summary: Max has reservations when it comes to love, and for very good reasons.

A/N: This is my entry for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event. While I played one selfish card in my hand and wrote something of a companion to Light Only Shows You Where the Shadows Are, this can still be read as a standalone.

To my giftee, the amazing and wonderful @artemiseamoon : First of all, I admire you so much and I was really nervous to write for you. But I looked among your generous prompt choices (omgs thank you for so many good choices) and was surprised to find Max as an option. I wasn’t going to choose him at first but then my eye caught “past lives” and something in me zinged. Soul mates, angsty romance, second chance at love… and I’ve been itching to write an angsty Max. I know you are a fan of soft and whump, so all those elements had a party in my heart and here we are. I really hope you’re having a nice holiday and a good time off. Happy Secret Santa, Arte. <3

What we’ve been told is that when you die, your life flashes before your eyes.

That’s almost correct.

The truth is…it’s not just your current life.

It’s all of them.

Max hardly remembers the fear, the pain, the cold of his draining. Even though he knew what was coming, bought into the cult, the human instinct of fight or flight is hard to dismiss no matter how well they’ve been prepped and it was to be expected. But it was a flash in the pan and once he came around to the undead side of things, those pesky human responses were all quickly forgotten.

For a time. Until he saw your light and–

Anyway. Human instincts. Pffft. Adorable. Trading the constant possibility of fear for that of glee, of rapture, of delight? Human instincts are trash. Not to mention their senses, poor suckers. The things they can’t see can’t hear can’t smell can’t taste? Tragic.

If only the feelings weren’t heightened too. It makes some things–some people–hard to ignore–

Feelings were something he could also have done without in his human life–the latest one anyway–and did whatever he could do to avoid.

It wasn’t until he died that he understood why.

As the life drained out of him and the delirium set in, there was a rushing sound, a pull through his soul like the drag of blood from his body, and he was laying, feeble, wailing, bloody and naked among the limbs of his mother.

But not the mother he so recently remembered, the one that showed her approval only when he provided her with some accomplishment worthy of crowing about to her society friends. No, this one was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she died of fever when he was only five years old.

Max saw it all, from within himself and without, remembered the pull of his heart and watched the tears fall down his little face as they nailed his mother’s body in a pine box and put it in a hole at the top of a hill under a tree.

He always imagined he heard her singing to him in the grasses after that.

The world welcomed a new century, and not long afterward, he was a young man, looking to take over his father’s wine fields. But the chance was stolen when an archduke was shot. Max–Pierre, as he was called then–and all of the close friends and cousins he had were thrust into a great war. 

He was the only one to walk out of the fray. And when he came home, he found his father’s fields had been burned and that nothing remained.

That was a dark time. Ten years of looking back rather than looking forward. Ten years–it went by so fast–while he watched the world around him try to repair itself and find its footing again, not realizing that the roots of evil still grew beneath the soil.

He kept his head down and his hands working wherever he could.

But then he met a woman.

And she was Pierre’s life. Max’s life. Before he was Max.

It happened in the winter, just before Noël. And her name was Yaëlle.

Max remembered that before she even told him as he watched the story of this strange old life.

Yaëlle. It means “beautiful one.”

“It also means ‘goat,’” she’d said. “That seems more fitting.” She never thought of herself pretty, and perhaps she wasn’t fashionable and maybe she was stronger than she was dainty, with a weak chin and curly dark hair she couldn’t control. But the light in her eyes when she laughed–and what a laugh, like a little bird–the sway of her hips and the confidence in her carriage, her air of easy care and comfort caught his heart like a surly bear in the prettiest trap.

She’d simply been passing through the marché de Noēl, looking but not stopping, taking the kerchief off her head so the snow could land in her curls, when a child approached her selling buns in the shape of a cross and she gave the child a franc before sitting down at the statue of some cardinal or other in the center of the square.

She could have sat on any of the other benches, but she chose to plonk down next to Max. Next to Pierre.

“You want this?” she asked, offering the bun. “Not really my thing.”

How could she have known he was hungry? That he was lonely? That he was facing the market rather than the river because he was trying not to succumb to his inclinations, a pull to walk out onto the thin ice and let himself be taken by the stream?

He was instantly entranced by her. He felt himself smiling. Something shifted within. A destiny.

“You sure?” he asked.

She peered at him, scrutinized his whole self like she could see a glow around him and was looking for its source.

She found it in his eyes.

“Absolutely. I already ate three hand pies today. The last thing I need is more bread.”

He laughed for the first time in a long while. They talked. He ate.

On Christmas Eve when everyone was at the evening’s mass, she was there again, sitting alone, and this time it was he who had hot food and came to join her on the bench while the night was silent and cold and the stars were twinkling.

It was then that he learned why she was not in church–her folk did not observe Noēl. And she learned why he was not in church–he had lost his faith, that everyone he had ever loved was taken and there were not enough candles in the sanctuary to light for all of them.

“What if I lit one?” she’d asked.

“Who would you light it for?”

“For you. So you don’t have to sit in the dark.” When he was only silent, she said, “You fought in the Great War, didn’t you.” And when he looked away–when he shut her out–she continued. “My husband fought in that war. And he never could find his heart again. He said he loved me, but I don’t think he ever really did, not all the way. But I loved him all the way and when he put an end to his own life I thought I would have to do it too. Instead, I sat in the dark for a long time. It’s something I can see in a person. I can see you’re sitting in the dark.”

They stayed quiet for a time on the bench under the statue of the cardinal and when the church bells started to toll–signaling the magic of the empty square would soon be disrupted by the mass emptying into its streets–she stood and pulled her coat around her.

“My home is down that street, a little one with a red roof. It’s warm and I’ve plenty of hand pies--I made too many. I’ll leave a candle in the window until I’m asleep. You’re always welcome there, Max.”

And then she smiled and turned down the avenue where she’d pointed.

He blinked. Just before she reached the edge of the square he called out, “My name isn’t Max. It’s Pierre.”

She turned and gave a sly wink. “Good to know. I think once you get a belly full of my pies, you’ll let me call you whatever I want.”

He only sat long enough to watch the churchgoers file out of the holy service, many of them with people they loved, humming, happy, cheeks glowing in that way when one steps into a fresh cold world after being an hour or two soaking in the warmth. And once the square was empty again, he stood, gave only a fleeting look to the river, and then walked resolutely down Yaëlle’s street.

A little house with a red roof and a candle in the window.

He stayed for supper and came back many nights after.

And then one night he never left.

Max recalled the rest of that life with a lurking despair. While he couldn’t quite remember how it went, something in him carried it through to the life he’d just left…and he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was yet.

A few years of joy, of the greatest love he’d felt since his childhood. Like the mother he’d lost, another woman who was gentle, kind, held him and sang to him, lived her life for him until she couldn’t anymore.

They never celebrated Noël as the others did, but in their own way. For a handful of years they would go sit on the bench in the square and hand out pies to their neighbors and anyone who came to join them where they sat. They would listen to the singing in the church and watch the stars scintillate overhead. They would leave their shoes by the fireplace and wake up to find gifts they’d bought for each other with the little francs that they had. And they would never talk about what they would do in the future, because they knew it would be this and that’s all they aspired to and it would be a happy life.

And Max watched Pierre forget about the rot that still ran its roots through the soil.

And one day soldiers came to town when he was out in the fields and they took Yaëlle and some of the other dark-haired, joyful, bird-laughing folk about town and murdered them. By the time he returned for the evening, the soldiers had gone and left him nothing but a ravaged house and a body to bury.

There’s nothing he could have done, the mourning neighbors told him, the tide was rising. If he had fought them, they would have shot him too.

Pierre said that it would have been better that way.

Pierre stopped working in the fields when he started to hear his mother’s voice singing among the grasses again…now joined by Yaëlle’s sweet alto.

He had one more Noël in that life. He drank as much as he could take without falling over and stumbled out to sit on the bench in the square, weeping once the churchgoers had gone. He didn’t say a word, but Max remembered what Pierre was thinking then.

Love hurts too much. It is always taken. It’s not worth the trouble.

And then Pierre fell asleep on that bench and never woke up again.

There wasn’t much time between that first life and this one, maybe a few decades in the dark. Just long enough for a voice to reach him in the void–a voice he knew well and loved with his whole heart for only a short time–to say,

“That was a good first try, Max. Let’s give it another go, okay? Another place, another time, when it’s not so hard. I’ll leave a light on for you.”

____

Max’s life had been shorter this time. But he’d learned a thing or two and kept love at arm’s length. Sex was good and companionship was fine, but he wouldn’t invest in anything that could drain him in an instant and leave him destitute. 

Now power, that could fill the void. 

So when fortune smiled and he was given the choice, he swallowed hard and put his neck to the teeth, traded in his humanity for power that nobody could take away from him…and a heart that had no need for warmth.

He was wrong about that last point though.

And he didn’t even know it until he saw something that humans couldn’t see.

Heard something they couldn’t hear, a long ago and far away voice singing.

Smelled you on the wind.

Followed it to you–a woman, just another human woman–walking out of a bar along some street in the city.

And he saw a light glowing from within you.

You wore another face, another body, but all he saw was you.

Yaëlle.

Beautiful one.

He followed you that night, and several nights after. He was the reason that car swerved before it hit you, the reason you weren’t approached by that seedy guy at the club. He was the reason you kept looking behind you now and then and when you finally saw him–having dinner at the same restaurant, totally by coincidence, you on a friendly outing, him trying to charm a client into a contract–it broke his heart that you did not know him instantly.

He found he was surprised that he still had a heart to break. He’d been so fucking careful.

Max almost gave into the anger, the disappointment. Replayed the pathetic way Pierre let himself be brought down and tried to remind himself not to let himself be broken again.

But then he heard your voice in a way only those who walk in death can.

Let’s give it another go. I’ll leave a light on for you.

____

Heightened feeling is the one drawback of all this power. It’s one thing to latch onto a target, to fixate on some middle manager or accountant or IT specialist until there’s a good time to finally strike. That is an itch that can be satisfied with a well-timed, fear-seasoned, adrenaline-soaked kill.

But love sinks its fangs in and doesn’t let go. It sucks at something that can’t be drained, has no end, can never get enough. It can drive an immortal--a never-ending being of heightened existence--to madness.

There will come a day in the future when you’ll trust him for no good reason, when you’ll understand the monster he is and whisper under your breath against your better judgment, when you’ll invite him in. For dinner.

And he’ll come around again and again.

And then one day, he’ll stay.

And you’ll yawn ask him on the edge of sleep, “Why me? Of all these humans that you could easily enthrall and have without question, why choose this?”

Max will look at you in the darkness and see nothing but your light.

You won’t understand when he puts on a show of an irritated sigh and tells you, “You gave me another chance, sweetmeats,” but you’ll doze in his cold arms, absolutely confident as he is that nothing will ever hurt you again. Including himself.

And that night he’ll stay until you wake.

He won’t have you sit in the darkness alone.

_____

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