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almostfoxglove · 2 days ago

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WHAT oh my GOD oh m y FUCKING GOD taylor. TAYLOR. TAAYYYLLLOOORRRRR. jesus christ I need him SO BAD

You scowl and sit up, glaring down at him over your shoulder. Shit, maybe asking him first thing in the morning was a bad idea. Hair perfectly tousled in a deadly combination of post-sex and sleepy morning bedhead, Max grins up at you, his right arm tucked up behind his head, giving you a full display of his solid biceps and carved chest. You’d never seen him once lift anything heavier than a stapler. Well, except for the one time he picked up your couch with one hand because your earring had rolled underneath it.

dfsjhafkjdfhjkshdfkjhsjdkf THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL. THIS DID HORRIBLE WRETCHED BEAUTIFUL THINGS TO ME.

“And despite my cool and aloof exterior, I would be pretty bummed if anything ever happened to you.” That easy, devil-may-care smile fades from his face and his wide palm flattens across your knee. When he looks up at you, his eyes are soft, concerned. You rarely get Max’s vulnerable side and when you do, it makes you immediately go gooey on the inside. “Especially if it was me who hurt you.”

“No, you little slut. Biting you. Feeding on you. So very Dracula.” He playfully raises an eyebrow. “Like you ever once picked up the Bram Stoker novel.” You blink owlishly at him. “In fact, I didn’t know you could read.” He wrinkles his nose at you and pinches your cheek. “Of course, I didn’t read it, but I did see the Coppola film strictly for Winona Ryder. What a babe.”

he's so fucking real for this. would die for him at his hand

It stays like that for a minute. Your hands just resting on his shoulders, his fingers cradling the back of your head, and the other hand sitting contently on your knee. The kisses are almost innocent in their sweetness, curious, as if you’ve really never touched each other before. They smack of puppy love and cotton candy and necking under the bleachers. They’re lettermen jackets and prom-posals. Carving names in trees and promising forever with cheap rings in the shape of hearts and hands.

something about max phillips + the sweetest innocent kissing ever is ruining my life. oh my god. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH FUCKIN CHRIST

First Base.

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5212

summary: you agree to his every precaution. he's not going to kill you, just bite you, a little bit. You hope a lot.

warnings/tags: making out, talking in bed while half-naked, max comes with his own warning, blood but only a lil, the discovery of a new vampire ability (this is so self indulgent), established friends with benefits situation but not a relationship, #pedrostories1k, @pedrostories

a/n: i've only got two parts written. lemme know if you'd like more!

Next | Series Masterlist

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The instant he heard the term, Max was obsessed. He’d whisper it in your ear in the hallways. He’d growl it into your throat as he split you open on his mattress, fingers wrapped like iron around your wrists – those were times he had to be especially careful. He’d leave notes addressed to you at your desk, or in the apartment kitchen, with it written across the top. He’d even occasionally put “my” before it. Hell, it was your name in his phone’s contacts.

Monsterfucker.

Monster. Fucker.

Monsterfucker.

His little monsterfucker.

My monsterfucker.

Does my monsterfucker like that?

You’re being so good for me, little monsterfucker.

I’m gonna come on your chest now, you monsterfucker.

Was it an unhealthy nickname that he said far too often around the office and dangerously close to your coworkers? Yes. Did you regret showing him that tweet and explaining what it meant? Absolutely not. Because you were. His. And a monsterfucker.

Unfortunately, outside the truly staggering stamina he displayed, an occasional nip at the kitchen counter after a particularly long bout of mind-blowing sex, and a flash of a toe-curlingly long tongue he gave you only after you’d begged for it for hours at a time . . . Max was often more an annoying, smug fucker than a monster to fuck. Which is to say, the fangs rarely made an appearance. Only recently had he started leaving bags of blood in your apartment’s refrigerator and even those were wrapped up in special bags that prevented freezer burn, as if to say, nothing special here. He still wouldn’t eat in front of you, always more eager to pick up dinner and watch you eat, as if the memory of human food alone would satiate him.

He resolutely hadn’t let his fangs out anywhere near the bedroom.

And that monsterfucker in you was finally starting to be annoyed by it. You’d done everything you could think of, short of drawing a bullseye around your jugular vein. For being a vampire with enhanced peripheral senses, he really couldn’t quite take a hint.

“Max?”

“Hmm.”

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure, baby, what is it?”

“I want you to bite me during sex.”

His fingers pause in their path along the curve of your waist, over the knots in your spine. You face away from him, having just woken up, and you hope that by posing this question so early in the morning and so bluntly, it might unsettle him enough to at least consider it. His hand hovers just above your ribs, before sliding forward into the soft skin between your bones, and he chuckles.

“No.”

And whoever said vampires don’t sleep was only partially correct. Max didn’t sleep, he went unconscious. Trying to wake him up before he was ready was like trying to crack open a boulder with a rubber hammer.

You twist your mouth down to perhaps look more serious than you actually are to hide your recklessly ogling. But the instant he sees your naked torso and your tits he is the one staring shamelessly.

“Why not? We’ve been dating for almost a year now and you hardly even let me see your fangs, much less feel them.”

“I bit you last week on the couch when we watched that one movie.”

“You bit me to scare me and didn’t even break the skin.”

Max’s eyebrow jumped. Arching slightly, he settles deeper into the pillows, a small smirk dripping across his lips. His hand skims up your knee, over your thigh, his intention very clear.

“And you want me to break your skin, baby?” He purrs.

“Max, stop. I’m serious.”

“What were we talking about?”

“Max!” You toss his hand off your thigh and he chuckles again, far too pleased with himself. With a big sigh, he stretches, long arms spearing through the slats in your headboard, toes curling under the sheets, before dropping his hands over his stomach, shivering. He reminded you so much of a cat sometimes, it was sinful. You wouldn’t be surprised if one day you blinked up at him and his eyes were yellow.

The sheets are frightfully low on his slim hips.

“Baby, look, that kind of shit is dangerous. It’s not that I don’t want you to see that side of me – you’re welcome to look as much as you want –,” he lifts his hands as if to demonstrate his own personal work of art, “but it’s not a joke. It’s called bloodlust for a reason. I’ve worked hard to control it, it’s not always that simple.”

Softly, he drags his fingernails over your knee, more affectionate than sultry.

You sigh and thread your fingers through his. “And that’s exactly my point, Max. I know you would never hurt me. This is about trust as much as it is about the . . . bloodlust, or whatever. I feel safe with you. Safe enough to try this.”

Together, the two of you had tried pretty much every other kink, toy, or play out there and to you, this was no different. Double penetration would take on a new meaning. You didn’t let yourself even consider triple. One thing at a time.

Max’s thumb rubs thoughtfully over the meat of your hand. “We’d have to work up to it, if we’re going to do this. Make sure I remain in control.”

Your heart picks up speed. “Yes, of course. Same rules as always.”

Max pouts.

“But I’ve been wanting to change our safe word for a while now.”

You bring your knotted hands up to your lips and gently kiss every one of his knuckles. “If we do this, you can pick our next safe word.”

Quick as you can, you slip the nail of his thumb into your mouth and nip him just a bit. His eyes go dark.

“That’s cheating. You’re manipulating me.”

“Just helping my case along. But what were you saying about working up to it?” You can tell he’s losing focus, that it’s only a matter of minutes before he pulls you into his lap, but this is when he’s most pliable. He had the manic attention span of a dog tempted with a squeaky toy. You kiss the back of his wrist. “Max, c’mon.”

“We’d have to start slow. I’m talking high school, baby leagues. Making out. Light petting, then maybe heavy petting.”

You shift closer to him, breaking your hands apart as you put an arm over his chest to the other side of the mattress. Instinctively, his hand slides up your inner thigh. His gaze watches your breasts as they swing in movement.

“Damnit Janet . . . but okay, then we’ll go through the bases.”

“Mhmm hmm . . .”

You brush his hair back from his forehead and he puts both hands on your hips. You have seconds now. “So, we start with first, go up to second, which is under the clothes stuff. Then third. Oral. But that’s for both of us, right?”

His thumb traces your nipple. “Totally.”

“So that just leaves home plate, right, baby? That’s it then.”

You’ve got your hand around his cock and you stroke once. His mouth parts and his eyes flutter. “What’s it?”

You laugh out your nose.

“You’re impossible, Max Phillips.”

First Base.

“Is this entirely necessary?”

“I’d prefer you in a snowsuit or nun’s habit, but this will have to do.”

“At this point, I’ll take the Bugs Bunny onesie you wore for Halloween.”

Max smirks, lighting the last candle in your bedroom. He shakes out the match until it smokes and he turns back to you. You’re pouting in the middle of the bed.

“I’m gonna sweat my tits off in all of this.”

As part of his rules, he made you put on thick woolen socks under your straight-legged jeans. In addition to a black bodysuit as the base, he told you to wear:

A long sleeved turtle neck

A sweatshirt

A jean jacket

And a scarf

His aim was to minimize any open and available skin except the bits you intended to use or for him to bite, but the scarf you refused. It was the middle of summer for god’s sake!

But in the end, he had agreed. He was going to bite you during sex so if you had to roll around naked in a giant bubble for two weeks to get to that, you were more than willing to forgo some comforts. In addition to all but wrapping you up in a burlap sack, Max also insisted on a few extra precautions.

The first one being that a chain of silver is within reach, next to the bed. Max drained a bag of blood about thirty minutes ago so the hunger wasn’t all consuming. A box of Chips Ahoy cookies sat on your dresser for afterwards, along with a bottle of Gatorade, a brown bottle of disinfectant, a bag of cotton balls, and some bandaids.

“Are we making out or am I donating blood?” you teased.

But Max only shrugged. “A bit of both, actually.”

He also laid out an enormous white towel on your bed. You’d offered to do this in his apartment, but he wanted you as comfortable as possible, to which you frowned.

“You weren’t anywhere near this nice to me when we did anal for the first time.”

He hadn’t even dignified that with a real response but just a swat on your ass.

But, to your enormous surprise, Max Phillips was a romantic at heart. The candles were to set the mood.

“Plus,” he says as he crawls onto the bed with you, “it’s very gothic, isn’t it?”

“What, porking by candlelight?”

He rolls his eyes and swoops in to kiss you on the mouth.

“No, you little slut. Biting you. Feeding on you. So very Dracula.” He playfully raises an eyebrow.

“Like you ever once picked up the Bram Stoker novel.” You blink owlishly at him. “In fact, I didn’t know you could read.”

He wrinkles his nose at you and pinches your cheek.

“Of course, I didn’t read it, but I did see the Coppola film strictly for Winona Ryder. What a babe.”

“Would you make her wear five layers of clothing in the dead heat of summer?”

“Nah, I’d just eat her outright.” Max snaps his teeth just under your jaw. He is only playing, but it sends a shiver down your spine. He chuckles at your reaction.

“It’s too easy, baby. Sometimes I think you only like me for my fangs.”

You bite your lip in thought, as you lean forward, draping your arms over his shoulders. His hands cup your waist.

“Well, not only. The Jag’s a nice perk too.”

You bend your head to kiss him again, but he draws back, his hand against your cheek, gently stopping you. His dark eyes are serious. In the candlelight, they look almost gold. Despite the almost stern expression, you see something else, but you so rarely see it on him, you aren’t sure you recognize it at all. Fear. Max is genuinely fearful he was going to hurt you.

“What are the rules again?”

“Use the silver if and only if you don’t stop when I use the safeword.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere as long as it touches your skin.” Your stomach knots. You know it would hurt him, burn him, and you can’t imagine doing that. But he wants you to have that kind of power over him.

“Keep going.”

You huff, knowing exactly what he’s after, that verbal confirmation. That agreement on your end as much as his.

“We’re only going to make out. No groping, licking, or grinding.”

“That’s right, missy, and you better be home by nine.”

You bend over and tug his ear lightly with your teeth. But that same sincere look is on his face when you settle back again. He taps your chin with his thumb, eyes watching your lips.

“What else?”

“After you bite me, if I start to feel dizzy or lightheaded, I also say the safe word immediately.

Max nods, his thumb moving to anxiously skim against your cheek. “I’ll be taking less than what you’d donate to any blood drive, but it might be faster than you’re used to, so I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

His gaze searches your face as if you are about to crack and crumble under him. The mere suggestion that the boardroom-schmoozing, bad-boy-batman, bloodsucking bastard Max Phillips is this apprehensive over a little bite is almost mesmerizing to you. He’s never been one to handle you delicately and this is the first and only time you’ve seen him so ill-at-ease.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You scratch your nails into his hair just above his neck, a place that usually has him oozing into relaxation, but not this time.

He frowns.

“No, I want to. I really, really want to. It’s just . . .” He swallows, further separating you from him and only letting his hands touch your knees. He seems to be on the verge of something and he can’t quite look you in the eyes. “It’s just . . . it can be harder to control it, for a vampire, when they have a connection with the person they’re feeding from.”

You huff. “Max, of course, we have a connection. You’re my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for months now and –,”

“An emotional connection.” If he could blush properly, he would. “A deep emotional connection.”

“Oh.”

Is he really saying what you think he’s saying? And he’s telling you now?

Sometimes it’s rather shocking. That an immortal creature of the night can have the emotional intelligence of a six year old.

With a gentle sigh, you inch towards him and hitch your leg across his thighs. His eyes widen momentarily before you sit down on his lap. You card your fingers through his hair. His hands hover just over your hips.

“Do you trust me?”

He nods without hesitation.

“Well, I trust you too. Quite literally with my life. This is just the first step, Max. But it can be the only step if it’s too much. I won’t bring it up ever again, I promise. You’re not alone in this.”

It’s like your words are a balm to a sunburn. He nods again, closing his eyes.

He goes up to your neck with his hand, but waits for you to initiate. Your heart threatening your throat with swelling emotion, you fold over him and gently, with care, press your lips to his.

The hand at your neck pulls you in closer and you turn your head to deepen the kiss.

But sweet is not what you came here for.

At the first nip of your teeth, his mouth parts instantly, and all but sucks your tongue against his. You take him in long, rich, wet swipes, tasting the heat gathered in the cup of his mouth, in the muscle of his tongue. You think you taste the faintest hint of copper and you do your best not to shiver under his palms. You remind yourself to not let your tongue go searching for sharper things.

Your hips hitch forward and down, off your knees and into his lap. You’re already warm and despite the layers, you know he can feel it. He groans, air rushing out his nose, the hand in your hair tightens down, and his arm curls up against your lower back to pull you even closer. Your fingers knot into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp just the way you know he likes, your heart already pounding, your thighs clutching his waist. He claws at your back, pressing you harder against him, but beneath the layers, you can barely feel his touch. You whine at the growing heat between your legs and the lack of sensation. You have to feel him.

With a tug, you jerk off the denim jacket, sweat already sprouting against the valley of your spine. He whines, this time a sound of protest.

“Baby, don’t–,” he pants, your mouth inches from his. He claws at you and the jacket, needing you nearer and distant all at the same time. “It’s for your own good–,”

“Just one layer. Please, I’m burning up,” you beg. He relents, letting out a breathless frustrated noise. You hurl the jacket off your arm and onto the floor.

He lifts you both then, hands digging into the back of your thighs, your hands going to his collar to keep the seam of your chests pressed together, and he turns to bury you in the mattress. Despite the countless times you’ve been in this exact position, it somehow manages to feel like the first time you made out with him. That same frantic heat, that buzzing energy, that need to touch and explore but not wasting a second to linger. A pulsing warmth swells between your legs and your hips jerk up a fraction of an inch, but they keep from making contact with the seam of his jeans. He’d never do this again if you broke his rules.

Showing him where you want him to go, you nip his earlobe as he pries your thighs apart with his hands around the back of your knees, out of habit more than anything. You suck down on the back of his jaw, the smell of his hair and aftershave scratching against the rough of your insides to burn you a little bit hotter. Your teeth worry his skin just to the right of the knot in his throat and he jerks, moaning. He shifts his weight down, his pelvis tilting into the cradle of your hips and you eagerly receive him. You’ll go as far as he’ll willingly allow, but you want him to know this isn’t all on him.

“Color?” You tear your mouth away from his, hands nestled around the backs of his ears, you push back to look him in the eye.

He answers you a second before he lunges in to kiss you again. “Green.”

“You wanna keep going?” Don’t grind, don’t grind, don’t grind.

He nods, eyes closing for a second. “‘m okay, I’m okay. Put your hands up my shirt.”

You blink up at him, chest still heaving. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” So you do. You rub your palms up under the lip of his shirt, smoothing them against his sides, his chest, his stomach, which tenses as if your hands are cold. With a gasp, he drops his head into the curve of your shoulder, his breath hot, almost burning. You wonder if his fangs are out. He shifts, pressing up against your chest, deeper into your neck, rocking his hips once, and he sucks on that soft place beneath your earlobe, making you keen.

“Can I see them?” You blurt out. “B-before–,” your voice catches and you swallow the desire in your throat. “Before you bite me.”

Max’s shoulders still. You’re both breathing heavily and you stare up at your ceiling, afraid to meet his horrified face. Maybe you’d gone too far. Asking to be bitten was one thing, but maybe he didn’t want you to actually watch when he –

“Really?”

He peels back from you, his elbows locked out on either side of your head. He meets your gaze with trepidation and . . . awe.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, please. I even want to–,”

He’s staring at your mouth like if he thinks hard enough, exactly what he wants to hear will come out.

“You wanna what?” His voice is deeper than gravel, lower than the graves of the earth.

“I want to touch them, Max.” You’ve never felt more exposed beneath him as he stares down at you. His hair is mussed, as if as shocked as he is.

You think his jaw drops in surprise, but in the glint of the candlelight, you see them shine. White, glistening fangs. Slowly, he parts his mouth even more, jaw opening, and his upper lip raises a quarter of a fraction of an inch.

In the far back of your mind, in your undeveloped lizard brain, the thing that squeezes out primal, dripping fear when confronted with things unknown, it’s pumping adrenaline. It’s working overtime. It’s going to catch fire. It’s screaming, begging, sobbing at you to run. To run fast and as far as you can because this? This thing that has you pinned beneath him – is a predator. It’s an apex monster at the top of the food chain, a precise killing machine designed specifically to prey upon your weaknesses. You can feel your muscles tighten, adrenaline roaring in your veins, you actually see his face better in the dark light as your pupils dilate, every fight-or-flight instinct you’ve ever possessed knotting together in a snarling, hissing, petrified void, all saying one thing:

Run, you idiot, run. Run. Run!

But you don’t. You can’t.

When you first discovered that Max was a vampire you asked him if he’d ever hypnotized you and he said no. And then you made him swear on point of stake that he would never, ever do that to you.

You wondered vaguely if now he had broken his promise. Because you cannot look away.

You exhale shakily, blinking up to his glistening wet mouth. With a trembling hand, you reach for his cheek, sliding it along his jaw, over the top of his upper lip, and then down. Down a single white fang, an obscene mockery of your own canine teeth. You’re surprised to find it smooth, just as hard as any of your own teeth, but you continue your thumb down to the very point of it.

“Careful–,” he warns, the sound garbled, and a second too late.

You prick your thumb on the razor edge of his fang. He shudders, head dropping between his shoulders.

Wide-eyed and mortified, you immediately suck your thumb into your mouth at the first well of blood.

“Max, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I–”

“No,” he says gently, but his voice is hoarse. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He lifts his head, eyes unreadable, but the candlelight brings color back to them, as if they had been consumed by shadow. “It’s okay.” Gently, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, easing your thumb out of your mouth. Watching you for any hint of rejection or fear, Max guides your thumb, wet with your spit and a dribble of blood, between his lips, between his fangs, and smears his tongue across the wound. He tries to maintain eye contact, but he groans, eyes fluttering, his hips swinging down. The noise he makes sends static directly into the pit of your stomach like a hot flare. You can’t fight it; you clench down on nothing.

Holy fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.

“Max,” you whine softly. He hums around your thumb, tongue lapping at the tip, eyes still closed as though he was drunk and trying to get the room to stop spinning. Finally, he parts his lips and removes your finger from his mouth. You can feel his rock-solid erection pressing into your pelvis.

He breathes, slowly, as though he was focusing on every molecule of air entering and leaving his lungs. Finally, Max lifts his eyes to you again and, again, you feel that white hot spark down between your legs. His fingers around your wrist loosen, thumb and forefinger catching around the cuff of your sleeve and slowly push it down.

“Color?” He husks, his breath coasting over your exposed wrist.

“G-green,” you stutter out. You know it can’t be helping him but your heart is pounding, rushing, vibrating behind the thick wall of your sternum. That same adrenaline that told you to run before has now locked you flat on your back, a different kind of instinct taking over. Your thighs ache to drop open around him. Take me take me take me.

He lowers his head to your blue, pulsating vein and lets the skin rub against his smooth incisor. Your back arches just off the mattress as if he’s fucking you with his tongue.

“Is it going to hurt?”

He’s not looking at you now, every sense within him entirely anchored to your wrist. But he shakes his head steadily, as if staving off sleep.

“I won’t let it.”

A prick. Nothing more. Nothing more hideous or crude than a shot in the arm. And yet you know it’s deeper, closer to bone, through flesh and sinewy muscle, into the deep thready vein. You know it’s deeper because a red ribbon of blood trickles down the flesh of your forearm. You watch it with fascination, your vision going a bit blurry as a sense of peace and ease rises up and greets you. You’re not lightheaded, but there is an ease, a delight, as if something had dulled your senses to the world. Your face breaks into a smile, even though you don’t feel your cheeks moving.

His licks are gentle, curious, tongue a little cold against your flesh. With your other hand, you stroke his neck, then tangle with his hair. You scratch him like you would the family dog.

“Good boy, Max, you’re such a good boy.”

And then the noise that’s been hovering at the edge of your awareness ratchets so loud you can’t ignore it any more. A buzzing, a humming, as though a thousand heartbeats were all racing in sync with one another. You don’t know where it’s coming from or what it is, but you don’t mind it – it’s soothing, sweet, peaceful. You ease your hand from his hair, back down his neck, to the knot of his spine and –

“Max, are you purring?” It’s undeniable. His entire chest is vibrating as if powered by a jet engine.

He muffles a response into your wrist, tongue more forcefully pressing into your skin.

“Oh my god, you are! Vampires purr?” You giggle. “If we do nothing else, figuring out you’re capable of purring has been entirely worth it.”

Again a muffled grunt. Your heart beat skips for a moment – what if he doesn’t stop – and then another pinch and you hear the faint chunk of his fangs retracting. The humming from his chest softens, quiets smoothly, fading to silence, as he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. You giggle louder, that pleasant, sweet feeling still cradling you like a cloud, as he sits up from the bed.

“Okay, now I’m kind of offended you never purred when I sucked your dick. Or that time I put on that strap-on! Or –,”

“Quiet you,” he grumbles with a bit of a smirk as he kneels down beside the bed and using the white towel beneath you, he wipes your wrist clean. Then, with his head hung down, he swipes his thumb against his mouth again.

“What are you–,”

The pad of his thumb bright red, he gently brushes his blood over the two pin-prick holes and, to your utter shock, the skin knits itself together. You watch, transfixed, as any evidence that he ever bit you slowly disappears. With the wounds sealed and gone, Max presses a kiss to your wrist. He stands up and goes to pour the disinfectant on your dresser into one of the cotton balls. You sit up and you emerge instantly from that cloud of serenity. You’re clear headed and awake, that adrenaline rush gone. You rub your wrist, the dried blood making the skin there tacky and sticky.

“That was . . .” You swallow. You know you didn’t orgasm but you still feel that lingering pleasantness, that almost syrup-y haze.

“How are you feeling?” Max asks over his shoulder, his frown serious. He sits back on the bed and gently takes your wrist from your fingers. His gaze keeps flickering from the dried blood to your face as he cleans your wrist and forearm. “Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea? Do you want to eat something – or drink –,”

“Max.” His mouth snaps shut, his brown eyes open and pleading and concerned. Something dislodges from your chest and pricks your eyes. This is only the first step in getting to what you really want, but you feel infinitely closer to him, like you’ve peeled back a layer and found something as warm and as comforting as sunshine. “Max, honey, that was perfect.”

You all but fall into him, your hand tugging on his collar to bring him into your atmosphere, your orbit, and you kiss him with fervent urgency. He groans in relief, in surprise, his hand cradling your jaw. You pull back, actually a little dizzy, but you’re quite sure that has nothing to do with blood loss.

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips and you nod before kissing him again. He smiles, his thumb petting your cheek as if to calm you. “Good. That’s really good, baby. You did so well.”

You scoff. “I don’t think I’ve ever been less of a participant in something so sexual.”

His eyebrow arches. “You got off on that?”

“Fair question. I guess you have to ask . . . since I wasn’t the one literally purring with delight!”

He rolls his eyes, huffing. “That’s actually the reason I didn’t want to do this. You’re never going to let this down.”

You pout at him, tilting your head. “Aw, poor pussy.”

He plucks a kiss from your cheek and snags the cookie box from your dresser. You realize how starving you are and you nearly tear open the box.

“So you’re really good, with everything?”

You nod, waiting until another time to ask him about that rather orgasmic haze you found yourself in.

He bites his lip as he watches you lick chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Then it’s off to second base we go.”

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#read #bookshelf #max phillips fic #ficrec #fics i love #queued

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kitsune024 · 6 months ago

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DP Fics ||Fics I love||Pt5

Harvest by @wastefulreverie I Chapters: 2/2 I

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The Gravity Of Time by @punchspeedchunk I Part 1- 3 I

The Ultimate Saga by Firefury_Amahira I Part 1 - 5 I

dp x dc

If You Give a Bat a Burger by Cielle_Noire I Chapters: 11/22 I

Dig Three Graves in Apartment 31c by @faeriekit I Chapter's 6/6 I

Vertical Limit by hppjmxrgosg I Chapters: 27/? I

@halfagone

Off With [the Demon's] Head by I Chapters 15 / ? I lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood by I Chapters: 91/150 I

#dp #must read fics #fave fics #dp fanfiction #dp x dc #fic rec #fanfic rec #ao3 #must read #danny phantom #fics i love #reread fics

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thebestbooksaround · 9 months ago

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The Shadows of Every Spark by devirnis (@devirnis)

Buddie | 22k | Teen

Chimney clears his throat lightly. “Uh, Cap? We have a customer who wants to order the daily special.”

The daily special that doesn’t exist. Because no one comes into this place to eat because this restaurant isn’t real.

Or, the 118 run a front restaurant for money laundering, and accidentally adopt the Buckley siblings

#Fics I love #Buddie #Eddie Diaz #Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley #911onfox #911 fan fiction #buddiefanfiction #Buddie fic #911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 on abc #devirnis

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sanjithesimp · 1 year ago

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♡ insatiable ft. min yoongi♡

a/n: idk what’s this but i loved it.

warnings: nsfw (minors DNI).fem reader. pwp (porn with very little plot). ANGST. fingering. oral sex. penetration. reader is called slut.

summary: now im heartbroken and horny (even though i wrote it, lol)

playlist to listen

you whimper as he continues on devouring you, he’s truly insatiable when it comes to you. he doesn’t even wait to get to the room, he fucks you right there in the small couch on the living room. you think that maybe someone will see you fucking through the big windows, but unlike you he never cares, because when you two are together nothing else matters. and soon you join him and forget all about that.

“fuck baby, you’re fucking wet…is it because of me?” he asked you, his lips just a few centimeters from your cunt, his chin dripping with your juices.

“yeah-” you almost whispered, feeling embarrassed.

“what did you say princess?” he said, looking right back at you with those dark eyes filled with lust.

“yes, it’s because of you” he smiled devilishly, getting back to eating you like there was no tomorrow.

“say that you’re all mine…” yoongi said fucking your cunt with his long fingers, feeling the cold of his rings on your folds as he pumped them deep inside you.

and yes, you were all his but he wasn’t completely yours, or at least he was yours for the night. as for the next day you know you’ll wake up and his side of the bed will be cold. like he was never there.

“i’m all yours, daddy” you said, but you felt like crying. even though this was all based in sex and secrets. you had started developing feelings for him, you hated yourself for that because he was a married man but you couldn’t help to fall for him. you had those moments where you felt like he was yours and only yours. where he didn’t only treat you like one of his girls.

sometimes the way he would look at you. the way he would hold you tight at night until you fell asleep. or the way he would cook for you so that you ate because you had some terrible habits. you felt like the only girl in the world for him.

you felt like crying but you had to remind yourself that you and him would never happen. he was one of the most important men in the world and along with his wife they had created this empire of real estate. you had no chance.

you were the secret he would have to take to his grave, so his popularity and status wouldn’t be ruined. and you constantly had to remind it to yourself, so you would never give yourself a chance to feel anything more than just the pleasure washing on you whenever you fucked him.

“please, just fuck me” you said, trying again to remind yourself that was the reason he always appeared on your front door with that million dollar smile.

“you’re so fucking needy, such a little slut” he said biting his lip, before standing up and pushing you further on the bed. he then unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and then released his throbbing cock from inside his boxers. his pink tip dripping with precum, eager to be inside your velvety walls.

“do you have any condoms doll?” you then opened the small drawer from your night stand, and pulled one. he then ripped the wrap with his mouth and placed the condom on his cock.

you bit your lip, anticipating the feeling of being filled with his thick cock all the way to the brim. the slight burn when he first introduced himself into you, inch by inch.

he fucked you so rough you would not be able to walk properly for a couple of days, but you didn’t care. he made you forget all about your worries and fears for a moment. you wrapped your legs around him as he thrusted in and out of you. one of his hands on your neck, applying just enough pressure. the pure sight could make him cum, your tits bouncing as he rammed into you, his hand leaving slight marks around your neck, and tears running down your cheeks ruining your perfect make up.

he then pressed his hand on your belly, making you feel him completely. “look, i’m the only one who can fuck you and ruin you like this…” he thrusted into you, almost like fucking those words into you, not letting you forget that you were his.

you were getting closer to your release as his hands played with one of your nipples and his mouth focused on the other nipple, sucking, biting and licking it until it was hard. you begged him for more. “yoongi- more, i-i’m close” you said in between moans and whimpers. and you both came at the same time, your juices ruining the bedsheets as he continued fucking you, overstimulating you until your legs gave out.

“i love this” he said, his forehead on yours. his skin glistening with sweat and his pink lips grazing your lips.

“i love you” you said, and before you could even regret the words he stood up.

“i have to go” yoongi said as he started getting dressed and leaving you again.

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #suga smut #agust d smut #bts smut #bts fic #omggg idk why but i loved this #i've h*ted all my writing s #since i got back to writing but not this #bookmarks #fics i love

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consistentsquash · 7 months ago

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Famous Boy should be adapted for Netflix instead of the garbage DTS scripts. I am shooketh. Not my favorite driver, not my favorite F1 team, but idc because this is inarguably one of the best fics ever written. Talent with a T. Thank you for your services to F1 fandom aka prompting this fic ;-;

Hiya! :D

Super happy you got to experience Eldritcher <3 They are one of my fav writers ever and it makes me extra happy whenever somebody finds their work because of me.

A Famous Boy is beautiful, literary, haunting, epic in the epic sense. It makes you root for everybody. If you don't love Max Verstappen, read that fic. It's going to make you love him. If you love Max Verstappen, read that fic because you are just going to love him more. Also everybody else. It's really a masterpiece in sensitive characterizations. You are going to cry and you are going to go back because it's just poignant and hopeful. A perfect storm Coming of Age fic. It's got that unique vibe going on where you are feeling everything you have felt before in your life + some extra new feels.

“Didn’t know you were gay.” Gay was Elton John. Gay was Lewis Hamilton’s fashion sense. “Just a bit of a fruit,” he corrected Carlos.

Also my favorite Queer fic of all time. Gender, orientation, everything is really wholesome and poignant. Hard to describe actually. The build up is super sneaky because it starts out as this classic coming of age trope before going into some genrefuckery + genderfuckery. Really unique.

Not good for reading canon blind but if you are into F1 and if you want to experience something new and unique, this fic is for you.

Also my prompt was pretty basic. The epic part is 100% because of the author's skill.

#fic recs #f1 rpf #max verstappen #my rpf fandoms #fics that win at make a greek tragedy from red bull dysfunctionality challenge #a famous boy #<3 #fics i love #maxiel #chestappen #versainz #but really a max verstappen character study #rpf #tagging rpf so that folks can block if it's not for them

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snapeysister · 5 months ago

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Attention Fic recommendation for Barson fans:

"Intimate" by In Hiding (click on the title)

In my humble (and well-read) opinion, one of the most successfully and cleverly written slow-burns (friends to lovers), especially for Barson ships.

Still in the middle of reading and I am so entertained. Witty, easygoing and yet intimate, lovely dialogues in a fashion appropriate for the characters (and in fine English!), and intriguing.

Heads up: @userbarson @thebarsondaily @malevolent-muse @barson4ever @criminalinkfanficguild @lovingbarson @anneowl2803

#fanfiction #fics i love #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #barson #rafael barba #olivia benson #law and order universe

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doeinstinct · 2 years ago

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read this fic...read it again...read it again, had to sketch some transfemme tobi

(she is everything to me)

thank you @kooriicolada this fic is so very lovely

#forgot to make her blush in that top one #im not sure if this is exactly what you were picturing but i hope you like it anyway!#transfemme tobirama #tobirama senju #doeinstinct #my art #fic art #fics i love #please go read it it is so fucking good #the hot spring scene lives in my head rent free #madara is so real for everything he does there bc same #madatobi #mdtb

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disintegratedfingers · 9 months ago

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#bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #mha #mha fanfic #Fanfiction #Fic #Fics #fics recs #fics i love #fic rec #fics i'll never write #drabble #fanfics

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a-catgirl-universe · 4 months ago

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I hope that while my favorite stories are on hiatus all those Peeta’s and Katniss are making out (at leas). Yep, that’s what I choose to believe!

#everlark headcanon #fics i love #fics I miss

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dynamic8ball · 2 years ago

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"The Girl in the Iceberg" synopsis/trailer

Before I introduce to the world of Tumblr and possibly beyond of what I'm about to write, I just wanna say what this "synopsis/trailer" thing is. You all know what a movie or TV show trailer is, right? Well I'm about to (sort of, maybe?) do it for a fanfic that I've been adoring for the past several months. A Legend of Korra fic titled "The Girl in the Iceberg" by RainbowRosieS (I'm not them by the way. I'm just promoting it because I love it so much as a reader) on AO3. Here's a link to it if you just want to skip my ramblings, but I just want to get this out because 1) I love this ongoing fic to death and 2) I could use the exercise for writing 3) I want to do it for fun. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44664853/chapters/112368748

Republic City, present day.

The hustle and bustle of Republic City is alive and well. Motor vehicles deafen the streets and boulevards; brands such as Satomobile and Cabbage Car making up the majority of the automobile market. Airships float high above the metropolis overseeing the urban landscape. The inner-city's ship yards teem with union dockworkers mooring ships to shore, lifting and transporting crates by hand off incoming ships, evaluating inventory and inspecting ships that prepare for yet another journey.

All this with the ever-growing city skyline sitting still yet tall in the background, unsuspecting of what a mere anthropology major has brought to these shores. She was no ordinary anthropology student: for one she was regarded as an outlier to the profession. Many regard Asami Sato with wariness and skepticism as an up and coming anthropologist, a field, like many others during this time, dominated by the male demographic. Many already know who she is - or better yet, who she is related to. The daughter to automobile magnate, Hiroshi Sato, Asami has grown to develop a passion for the field she studies at Republic City University. A passion, like many other things, she shares with her late mother, Yasuko.

It was unfortunate - tragic, Asami thought - that her mother couldn't be here to share this breakthrough with her. Asami, reservedly, has never been much of a religious person; her beliefs more or less relied on the laws of physics and what has been proven to be possible. But she could only pray that her mother could somehow see this. Her biggest discovery thus far in her young career and still in university.

On the surface, it just looked like a giant iceberg had been dragged all the way from one of the poles from the ship's stern. Asami's calculations proved to have been mostly accurate with how much the ice would melt over the course of their month-long voyage back home from the Southern Water Tribe without losing any precious cargo still frozen within the ice. This trek had been a long time coming; adversity from her skeptical colleagues and university staff, along with many sleepless nights studying numerous sites and artifacts for her expedition as the basis for her master's thesis had all been worth it thus far.

More work was to be done, for sure. The iceberg was to be craned and shipped to a nearby warehouse that her father owned by the docks. Then it would be a matter of time before her team chipped away at the melting ice and discovered more of what lay inside. Back at the South Pole, Asami could already tell roughly what sat inside was a woman in heavy furs surrounded by clubs and spears suspended within the ice along with a canoe and some unidentifiable white form that lay next to the woman.

Asami kept her excitement in check and expectations tempered as she should show respect for the dead and expect mild results and let the subjects of her studies surprise her. Little did Asami know that she was in for a surprise the likes of which hadn't been seen in recorded history and was long forgotten by the world at large. A generational being frozen for millennia and more, lost to time and history. The myth that turned true.

The girl in the iceberg had waited long enough.

__________

The Avatar is a myth. A tale of bygone eras where people possessed the power to control and bend the elements around them like it was an extension of themselves. The Avatar, born with the power to bend the four elements, was thought of as the bridging spirit between the material world and the spirit world.

Today, spirits are nowhere to be found. Bending has become extinct. The Avatar has long since disappeared.

History roughly remembers who some of the few Avatars were, or at least just by name. The last of these Avatars mysteriously vanished off the face of the Earth over 9,000 years ago, leading many through the annals of time to speculate: Was the Avatar cycle broken? Where could they might've gone? Did the Avatar even exist at all?

Bending and the spirits, too, are questioned to have existed. Throughout the centuries, humans have relied more on practical tools instead of hokey superstition. Evolving technology from stone tools to eventually reaching the industrial age. Beliefs and religion have shifted significantly as well through millennia. The most notable religion, the Church of Raava, has followers spanning the globe in millions. Believing Raava is an all seeing and knowing deity, he supposedly grants access to the after life in the spirit world to those who were devout in the church's beliefs, escaping the cycle of reincarnation.

The world itself is mostly the same geographically. New nations have risen and fallen with varying connections to one of each of the four elements. Bloody wars have been waged with clubs, spears, swords up until the invention of the firearm, shaping combat to be more distanced and deadly. The most recent Great War saw the introduction of the machine gun along with chemical weaponry when the world's powers collided in ruthless trench warfare.

Even with that war over, conflict still ravages the Earth Empire in a gruesome civil war. While the United Republic is experiencing relative prosperity since their arms ceased, trouble looms for immigrants fleeing from the Earth Empire civil war as living conditions worsen in Republic City. Aid groups such as the Red Lotus try and offer help to those in need, even when faced with the threat of Amon's separatists. The separatists' focus is forcing anyone who's not a United Republican out, dismantling the concept of the UR as a melting pot of cultures to establish isolationist peace and prosperity between cultures.

Problems and conflicts continue to mount for Republic City and the rest of the world. Resolutions seem to be growing scarcer by the day as millions still suffer. Perhaps the Avatar, master of all four elements, could save them. So much time had past, though, that the world almost looked unrecognizable to Korra. Without an Avatar for the time she was frozen, the world fell out of balance. And though this brave new world looks very bleak, she hasn't lost hope. Especially when her new hope had discovered her frozen in the iceberg and set her free.

Asami Sato didn't know it yet, but the ancient Water Tribe girl she had released was more than a capable warrior, she held the last hope for balance to be restored. And although her bending skills were great, Korra has a lot more to learn about this world before she should reveal herself to anyone. When the time comes, those that have come to know her will believe that Korra can save the world.

Again, here's the link to the story. https://archiveofourown.org/works/44664853/chapters/112368748

20 chapters are already out with 166,284 words already typed. Updates have been steadily published every Tuesday. If you got an account on AO3, please read it and if you like it, give it a Kudos and leave a comment to the proper author. If no AO3 account, Kudos and comment anyways.

I might do another for other fanfics that I like and enjoy. I've read enough in over a year's time that I could probably rank them in tiers or something that people do, right? Got a ton of LoK fanfic recommendations so go ahead and ask if you want my opinion or whatever.

See yall whenever!

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starlightbuckk · 22 days ago

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recent favorites on ao3

jan 19

as the title says, here are some fics i have enjoyed recently! not all have been recently posted, but i have read them this month.

all credit to the authors! <3

» leave the light on by cloudydaisies

summary: the check engine light comes on in Buck's Jeep, Eddie volunteers to fix it and carpool with him in the meantime, and it all breaks down from there, literally and metaphorically.

my thoughts: oh how i loved this one!! basically Eddie fixing Buck's Jeep for way longer then needed while neither of them seem to care. so sweet and i already cant wait to reread it.

» no one's ever had me (not like you) by wenttoafortuneteller (meowddiehan on twitter)

summary: Buck, Eddie, and their first shift as a couple.

my thoughts: set during a quiet 24 hr shift at the 118, which happens to be Eddie and Buck's first as a couple. i giggled reading buck's slight descent into madness.

» TRUST! by @pairofraggedclaws

summary: Love and premature ejaculation.

my thoughts: everyone seems to be talking about this fic, so i needed to as well. i loved this. don't skip it.

» rouge my neck by notathingtoseehere (outofbuck on twitter)

summary: Eddie is definitely not jealous at all, and has a completely normal reaction to strangers talking to Buck.

my thoughts: this exists as canon to me. they are stupid in the most endearing way.

» waiting for it (that green light) by pinkdoughnut (uhbucky on twitter)

summary: Buck and Eddie finally realize they can’t keep pretending during a game of True American. Based on some of my favorite Nick and Jess moments in New Girl—specifically, the scene from 2x15: “Cooler”.

my thoughts: one of my favorite episodes of television ever, matched with this pair worked so well.

» More than Casual by missi_dominici

summary: Eddie and Tommy watch baseball and Eddie has had enough.

my thoughts: my jaw was on the floor for the entirety of this. short and to the point. poor tommy. (also loved this authors other works!!)

please feel free to repost with thoughts, and if i didn't tag your tumblr, let me know and i will link yours!

#mayrecs #fanfic #ao3 #buck x eddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck #911 on abc #911 show #buckley diaz family #911 fic #station 118 #fics i love #currently reading #buddie fics

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almostfoxglove · 2 days ago

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oh I am not feeling normal about this I am in fact feeling very UNWELL and FERAL about this. oh my god.

Sometimes you wished he had much respect for your ability to walk upright as he did your jugular vein.

LIKE SHUT UP RIGHT NOW (so affectionate) THIS IS HYSTERICAL AND MADDENING AND SO HOT ALL AT ONCE

Annoyingly, Tim had been the one to be almost right: “six months ago, I’m telling you, man. That’s when he stopped eating secretaries and she got so much nicer.”

THE WAY I CACKLED OUT LOUD AT THIS sjkhafkjhsdf

the angst is truly nurturing and feeding my deep dark soul oh my god. please. he's PERFECT and I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

Second Base.

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 3712

summary: you try out second base; hand stuff only, but it changes things between you two, as much as you don't want it to.

warnings/tags: cute little outfits designed to drive max nuts, hand jobs (m and f receiving), more blood, fangs, one emotionally unavailable vampire

a/n: this contains one of my favorite lines i've ever written!

Prev | Next | Series Masterlist

🤍 Masterlist 🤍 Get notified when I post new works!

Second base.

Because you aren’t actual sadists or masochists, after the first bite, your sex life with Max went back to normal. Well, as normal as sex with an immortal creature of the night ever was in the first place. Okay – as normal as sex with an immortal creature of the night who is Max Phillips ever was in the first place. Which is to say, often, hard, and loud. It had been weeks since you’d seen that worried look of consternation, that sweet vulnerability he expressed, as if feeding on you might be the thing that kills you and not being railed against your couch for the better part of an entire day. Sometimes you wished he had much respect for your ability to walk upright as he did your jugular vein.

On some level, you were aware that his recent overexuberance was in part due to that vulnerability. As if you might lift the curtain and find that the man behind it all might leave you wanting. Truly a frat boy at heart, Max struggled to express anything that couldn’t be summed up with the three “ings” – licking, sucking, and fucking, obviously – but now, he had been exposed as someone capable of those deeper feelings, as if he had been the one to split open a vein for you. And despite the heavenly glow you indulged in after the first bite, you really weren’t quite sure how you felt about it all. You hadn’t started dating Max with any illusions about who exactly he is. In fact, you might have started fucking him in the first place because it seemed wildly out of character that he or you would get attached at all – to anyone or anything. The dating thing just sort of happened, when you both came to the same conclusion at roughly the same time: no one else was really doing it for you, so why not? So what if you only directly referred to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend in the privacy of your own apartment, or his? So what if half of the office was entirely clueless about your relationship and the other half was actively placing “secret” bets about how long you two had been fucking? Annoyingly, Tim had been the one to be almost right: “six months ago, I’m telling you, man. That’s when he stopped eating secretaries and she got so much nicer.”

Technically, he stopped eating secretaries about a month into your relationship, and what Tim accidentally overheard was not him “eating” a “secretary”, but you weren’t about to correct him. But Max found it all hilarious: “he’s right, you’re so much nicer when that pussy has been taken care of. But I like it when you’re mean.”

You actively choose not to think about what he meant by a “deep emotional connection” last time.

Fine, Phillips, I’ll show you how mean I can be.

“Nope, no, uh uh.”

You put your hand just over the frilly blue lace on your hip. “I’m sorry, I don’t see the problem.”

It had been about a month since first base and while Max had gotten notably more relaxed around you seeing him eat – he now occasionally walked around your apartment with his food in an opaque smoothie tumbler with a straw – he was still very strict about moving onto second base.

Which, if left up to him, meant you’d be wearing a straight jacket and thick flannel pajamas.

“Max, if we’re ever going to do this thing for real, you’re going to have to get used to seeing me naked. I’m not letting you fuck me and bite me while I’m in riot gear.”

“Okay, but, baby,” he whines and he can’t help himself from rubbing the satin bow above your crotch between his fingers. “You look like a birthday cake.”

Is the baby blue lingerie with a strapless bra that catches around your biceps with white lace a bit overboard? Yes. But last time was ridiculous.

Max frowns, his visible pout morphing into something subtly dangerous as he realizes he can unpeel your bra with a string in the back. “Can’t I just fuck you normally in this and then we’ll try again later?”

You swat his hand away as it sneaks across your ribs.

“No.”

“You know, if I wasn’t already dead, I’d think you’re trying to kill me.” Smirking, he drops his hands down to your waist and, not so subtly, curves them around the mold of your ass. Distractedly, he slips one finger under the seam of your panties. You press your hands against his chest and blink up at him coyly.

“Whatever gave you that impression.”

He shakes his head, squeezing your ass once. “And I’m supposed to be the soulless demon with a heart of darkness.”

“So you’ll do this?”

With a sigh and his eyebrow jumping, he nods. “Yeah. Fine. Go get on the bed.”

Trying desperately not to squeal, you tear away from his arms and all but run and leap on top of the white towel. Max slips out of his shoes, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. You bite your lip, nerves humming in anticipation, as you sit up on your knees to watch him. To your enormous dismay, no matter how hard you worked, no matter how much spit or cum you used, you could not make him purr again. You’d had wet dreams on the idea alone of putting your head against his chest as he vibrated but he swore it was involuntary. “And,” he added as a way to soothe your ego, “I’m pretty sure it can only happen when I’m feeding.”

“Does it happen every time? Like with blood bags or back when you hunted people?”

“No,” was all he said about that.

Max slips his shirt off over his shoulders and goes to work unbuttoning his pants. When they slide off his hips, you frown.

“The boxers with the hole in the waist? Ooh, baby, I’m so turned on when you make such an effort.”

He rolls his eyes as he climbs in next to you. “Look, I didn’t think you’d be seeing my underwear and I need to do laundry.”

“You didn’t think I’d see your underwear in a situation where we’re going to specifically jerk each other off?”

Attempting some version of contrite, Max’s gaze falls from your face to your throat, to your clavicle, to your tits, pillowed up for him beneath the blue lace. He leans in as if pulled by magnets.

“I’m sorry if I thought we’d both be a little more preoccupied.”

His broad palm smooths across your thigh, around your hips, to just above your tailbone, his nose drawing indistinct lines from your shoulder to your ear. You sort of hate how quickly he can make you not irritated with him. You shift to take him into the cradle of your thighs, when he winds your panties up in his fingers and tugs. The gossamer material tightens just over the seam of your pussy, teasing your clit, you choke. That heated, teasing Max Phillips smirk spreads like hot butter across his lips.

“What are the rules again?”

“Max,” you whine as you drag your nails over his chest and up his shoulders. But he hesitates, his hand knotting your underwear in his fist. One move and it’ll rub against you again.

“I’ll stop,” he murmurs in a half-sing-song voice. You huff.

“Silver. Bad touch, on your skin. Lightheaded or dizzy, I use the safeword. And,” you sigh. He’s so painfully handsome sometimes it hurts. He’d set out candles again, as if he needed any help in his seduction of you and he just sort of glows. You don’t know if it’s your anticipation or some vampire illusion, but every line on him is blurred. Soft, as if he doesn’t have your pleasure literally in his hands. There it comes again, that small bit of light in his eyes, the emergence of the early morning sun over the horizon. The way he looks at you makes your chest heavy. “And . . . only hand stuff,” you grumble.

He chuckles, pouting at you in faux-sympathy as he reaches out, other hand wrapping around the back of your neck. “Only hand stuff, she’s so sad about it,” he whimpers into your cheek with a high, mocking voice.

Your fingers dig into the skin on his chest, daring to hold him away as he goes for your mouth. “I swear to god, Max –,”

In one single fluid motion, he pushes on your tailbone, and swings your hips forward as he tackles your mouth with his own, effectively yanking you under him. You huff in surprise, before pulling away to find menace and glee in his eyes. Grins again as he nips with flat teeth on the curve of your neck.

He plants wet, hot kisses across your chest, heat blooms against your ribs and tunnels down between your legs, as he tongues the softer places along the hollow of your throat, then up the other side of your throat, teasing your earlobe.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “that was mean. What can I do to make it up to you?”

Pressing your chest up against his, knowing he can feel the squish of your tits, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him towards you. His hard cock rubs up against your seam and he lets loose with a muffled groan into your mouth. You roll your hips once with him between you and he turns his head to your jaw, as you both pant at the sensation.

“You know exactly what I want.”

His teeth graze you gently. This is an exercise in restraint for you as much as it is him. Given any other night, you’d have his pants off by now, on his back, or behind you, but you refrain. You can’t squeeze him like you want to and that only frustrates you more, makes you heated and ruffled, makes you want more of his skin on you, around you, as if he could smother you. You want to merge your bodies. Your knees dig into his ribs.

He whispers something, too low and fast for you to catch it, but it ends broken and uneasy as if you’re touching something delicate within him. Bending back with one hand, Max reaches between your legs and cups you, one finger barely pressing the wet material back inside you.

“Was this waiting for me under all those layers?” You nod as he pushes deeper, your mouth dropping open. He kisses your chin, before tucking his head under your jaw again. “No wonder you were burning up.”

He inhales as if his face was pressed right up against your cunt, two fingers rubbing up and down over that sodden material. It scraps against your clit and it burns. “I could eat you. Just like this.”

“Max, c’mon–,”

“I know, baby, I know.”

Smearing that pink little bow with the smell of you, he dips his hand under the line of your underwear, past your damp curls, and soothes your overheated sex by filling it with two thick fingers. You arch, brow furrowing, mouth open, fingers clamping down around his shoulders, arousal crawling up your spine, higher and higher the deeper he goes. Max likes the build up, the tease, it’s why his thumb only hovers above your clit, the heat doing half the work for him, as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching almost embarrassing. Behind his hand, his hips swing in time. He groans, deep, into your ear, breathless.

“Could come like this, baby, could come right like this.”

The bend of his cock bumps the back of his hand as he thrusts against nothing. You hitch your pelvis up, opening wider, pussy easier within reach, and you forgo any teasing for him, hand sliding right past his boxers, molding your grip around him. He’s hot and leaking all over your fingers.

“‘Ngh . . . shit, baby.” The arm holding him up shakes. You want to lick the salty precum but there has to be a rule about that, right? If you aren’t so desperate for that final fuck, you would have been a bit more careless. His fingers inside you press up into the places only he knows can send you into oblivion, as if grateful for tearing him apart. His wrist flicks quicker, faster into you, fingers plunging deeper, up to the knuckles, bouncing you as if you were on his cock. You match his speed with your own hand and Max hums, a dark sound verging on distressed.

You bite your bottom lip, eyes drooping, the rocking motion scraping against your pleasure again and again, like a match scratching against the box one stroke at a time. “Maaax –,” He adds a third finger and you keen, high-pitched and desperate, the width stretching you out for a cock he won’t let you have. You grind against his fingers, the bounce knocking loose every sane thought in your head.

Opening your eyes, you realize he’s been staring at your tits this whole time. His chest warm and glowing with sweat, his eyes track every bounce and jiggle, the cups of your bra putting them more on display than if you held them up yourself.

“Where do you want it, darling?” His voice is strained, softer than it should be with your cunt sucking up his fingers.

Max Phillips doesn’t do cutesy nicknames. Not during sex, not ever. Your his slut. His monsterfucker. Not –

Your already unspooling mind struggles to grasp at darling before it slips away.

His cock is throbbing against the palm of your hand. If you could see it, it would be flushed red, the vein at the base protruding. You pump him faster and his hips stutter. He’s so close and so are you.

But he’s not talking about that.

“On my tit, Max. Bite me on my tit.”

With a groan that is all growl, all tension and feral hunger, his arm collapses and he sinks his weight against you. He manages to get his hand out, but yours is still trapped there, pinned between your tender cunt and his painfully hard cock. You writhe. “Max–,”

His kiss against your lips is a starving sort of one, one that steals the breath from your lungs, wiping any lingering ache temporarily from your body. He licks the inside of your mouth, swallowing the moan that races from your throat into his. It’s all need, desire, a blistering familiarity that you didn’t realize existed between you two. He’s trying to say something with this kiss.

He doesn’t give you long to read into it, as he pulls back, sinking more into his knees as he mouths the skin under your neck, above your clavicle bone, and in between the valley of your tits. His weight shifts off you, enough to pull your hand out. You arch, pushing your chest deeper into his mouth, using the back of his neck to pull you higher, he groans and licks, and you yank the tie of your bra behind your back.

“Max, you can –,”

His hand claws at your cups, mouth consuming yours again, the ropes almost stinging your back as they are ripped so fast across your heated skin. Before you lie flat, his hand cups under you, fingers pressing into where the threads burned and forcing you to maintain that bend in your spine.

The moment is coming. You can feel it. It’s different from a rising orgasm, or the first time he ever sucked your nipple into his mouth. Your lizard brain is sending off warning flares, but you ignore it once again. Those flares arc and bend, your arousal now fire hot.

His tongue pressed flat, Max draws a long stripe of spit from under your breast, over the weight of it, and up your nipple, where he swirls it between his teeth. Whether Max Phillips was an ass or tits man depended on the day of the week, or whatever was blowing in the air, but he laved attention onto yours like they were the first pair he’d ever seen in his life. The skin on your other breast shines from where his fingers mold around it, smearing your wet juices all over your pebbled skin. He switches over and laps up that smell off you.

He’s wavering, caught between drawing it out and doing it so instantaneously he might black out and miss the whole thing. Your heart racing, skin almost too sensitive, you feel like you might shudder apart.

“Max, please –,”

He chooses the second approach.

Without warning, his fangs spring out and he latches onto the skin near the valley of your chest on your right breast.

You yelp in surprise, pain and pleasure zigzagging like rough scissors from his bite out through the rest of your body.

Okay, that hurts.

You gasp, bucking, yanking on his hair. “Baby, baby, gentler, be gentle–,”

He swallows and the ache lessens. Hot blood pools out of the spot where his fangs punctured you. It runs warm then cold, teasing like a feather, as it rolls down your stomach. It’s not a lot, but it's more than last time. It stains his chest too.

Slowly, that same sort of miraculous fog sinks down into your bones. The grip on his hair eases, softens, and soon you are petting him against you.

You swear you feel his fangs scrape your heart.

“That’s good, Max, that’s so good.” Your eyes roll lazily in your head and you nuzzle his hair. “God, how does this feel so good?”

As though determined to remind you he is more than just fangs, his hand pulls away from the mattress and slides back between your legs. You feel only one finger brush against your folds through your underwear – you’re almost disappointed, go back to using three, Max –

His finger plunges deep, deep inside of you, and you gasp, feet scrambling against the towel, as a swell of pleasure almost smothers you in an overwhelming wave. You nearly choke from the force of it. You were so overly sensitive but the gooey haze didn’t let you realize it until it was too late. You come hard, harder than you thought possible, seeing eons of galaxies and stars behind your eyes, with just one of his fingers inside you and his thumb distractedly circling your clit.

He feels you gush around his hand, wetting his wrist, and with a moan you can feel in your ribs, he spills in his boxers, the spend running down his thigh and smearing on yours.

Your entire body goes slack, as if someone had made all your bones disappear. His hips jerk slightly as if his orgasm is still trying to wring him dry before he stills and plucks his head from your chest, unplugging his fangs from the holes he made.

Blood immediately bubbles up from the wound and without his fangs there, it spills freely and violently over your tits, your ribs. The whiplash between your orgasmic high and a full-body weakness sends hot nausea swooping into your stomach and the room spins.

“M-m-ax,” you murmur, barely opening your mouth, your voice weak and thick as if stuffed with cotton balls.

“Fuck, sorry –,” you can’t quite see him clearly as he moves and suddenly there’s a warmth over your chest, comforting and heavy. The blood trickles to a stop and you breathe deeply. The darkness of the room stabilizes as you fully open your eyes. The room spins but this time pleasantly.

“Hmm, whoo, wow, ah, okay . . .”

You don’t realize he’s gotten off the bed until the mattress sags again and he’s cleaning you up with cold cotton balls.

“So, I’m going to take that mindless babbling as a good thing.” He smiles gently, but he’s holding something back. He keeps his head low like he doesn’t want you to see his face.

You wiggle your shoulders, as he delicately wipes you down. “What, you don’t wanna clean me up with your tongue? And why do you even use disinfectant – there’s no open wound.” You poke him in the shoulder with your toe. “And you didn’t even purr that time! I demand a refund!”

“Next time, okay?”

You frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just let me–,”

You sit up, the dried blood pinching your skin, and he pulls away. “Max, what is it?”

He pulls away so much, he’s on his feet by the dresser before you can touch him, the back of his arm tearing at his mouth to wipe it clean. Max is a lot of things but cold when you need aftercare is not one of them.

“It’s nothing.” The line of his shoulders is taught, tense. But he cracks his neck and takes the Gatorade from the dresser. He finally sits back down on the bed in front of you, offering the bottle to you. You take it, unease mounting, your fingers brush his, but this time he doesn’t retreat. Instead, gently, his fingertips ghost over your wrist, down the fine hairs on your arm, drop from your elbow and settle delicately on the blue material covering the crease of your hip. Where your blood had pooled, wet, and stained the blue to a deep magenta.

“I ruined your pretty underwear,” he says softly, forlorn.

You move closer to him, your knee touching his hip, but you refrain from seeking out the warmth of his hands.

“Max, I can get new ones, I don’t care about that. Please, talk to me. Did I do something wrong? Did I push you too far?”

His fingers flex around the towel, now also appropriately ruined. He shakes his head, more firmly this time. He snags his shirt off the floor, over his head, then moves towards the bedroom door.

“I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m sticky. I’m gonna take a shower. You wanna come?”

The invitation, it’s something, an encouragement you genuinely feared he might not give. Maybe it’s not you he wants to part from.

You didn’t enter into this for the emotional connection and neither did he. You have to remember that.

“Y-yeah. Of course.”

He invited you. He still wants you around.

Prev | Next | Series Masterlist

#read #bookshelf #max phillips fic #ficrec #fics i love #queued #this was queued before you reblogged my comment on the last part #BUT IM SORRY WHAT DO U EXPECT ME TO DO? NOT FALL IN LOVE W THIS FIC?? IMPOSSIBLE

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kitsune024 · 6 months ago

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Loki ||Fics I Love|| pt3

The Walls Between Us by pietoraven36 I Chapters 55/? I FFN

Alternate Alignment by DeathScribe I Part 1-3 I

A Bridge Once Broken by @fallintosanity I Part 1-8

Loptr Farm by @digitalta I Chapters 2/2 I

Coalescence by MisstressSezza I Chapters:15/15 I

A Queen's Gamble by for_darkness_shows_the_stars I Chapters:25/25 I

Withering Away by @galaxythreads I Chapters 10/10 I

Let It Burn by ShatteredGlassWings I Part 1-2 I

Chaos Reign by @fourth-rose I Part 1-14 I

A Deep Mark by @withthekeyisking-writer I Part 1-2 I

Trickster Universe by Shadow_Chaser I Part 1-4 I

Another Name by @sundial-at-night I Part 1- 4 I

Valerie_Vancollie

Ensoulment I Chapters: 18/18 I Ásgarðrian Galdr I Chapters: 93/93 I

@veliseraptor

Life In Reverse I Chapters 44/44 I You do not have to walk on your knees I Chapters 1/1 I

MCU x Frozen

The Ice Demon By @lizardbeths I Part 1- 10 I

WinterFrost

Midgard Blues by @need-more-meta I Chapters 1/1 I

Bound in Oblivion by @anamelessdragon I Part 1 - 2 I

#mcu loki #loki #winterfrost #ao3 fanfic #ffn #loki fanart #loki fic rec #loki fic recs #fics i love #i love loki❤️#fanfic rec #fic rec #loki god of mischief #reread fics

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thebestbooksaround · 2 years ago

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This is a Buddie fic rec list where "one of them isn't a firefighter" That makes me warm and happy every time I read them <3

Part 1 || Part 2

Exploding Coffee Machines by inkinmyheartandonthepage (@inkinmyheartandonthepage) | 9k | General

Buck couldn’t be blamed for falling in love with his neighbour. He was powerless against the Diaz boys and wanted nothing more than to be swept up in their everything. Buck thought that Eddie felt the same, that their feelings of more than just being platonic best friends was mutual. Buck had been hopeful that Eddie inviting him to his boss’s house to meet his friends and co-workers meant that they were taking a step in the right direction.

A step that now Buck was going to be late for OR Buck gets burned at work and worries that he's blown his shot with Eddie when he runs late to meet his friends.

What is Love For $2000? by fayevian 17k | Mature

On the screen, the camera pans down as they introduce the contestants. Mary, on her 3rd day winning streak, is a dowdy teacher type. Center stage is occupied by a graying man with loopy handwriting named Auggie. And all the way to the right is… Evan. Damn. --- One night when Eddie can't sleep, he discovers the hottest Jeopardy contestant of all time (objectively). With the "help" of his team and his fairly good working knowledge of Twitter, they devise a plan to get Evan (from Jeopardy) to slide into Eddie's DMs. It works surprisingly well.

i like you so much (it's kinda gross) by brewrosemilk, stardustbuddie (@gayhoediaz) (@wh0re-behavi0r) | 10k | Explicit

Buck Buckley (@/firefighterbuck): @/eddiediaz I’ll never be able to tug your hair now, huh?

Eddie Diaz (@/eddiediaz): @/firefighterbuck It’s against the rules, anyway. You don’t look like a fighter, though. What situation would we be in that would make you want to tug my hair?

(Or: Eddie is an MMA fighter and Buck thirsts on twitter.)

you make the world taste better by farfromthstars (@buckactuallys) | 11k | Teen

They follow the room numbers down the hallway until the last door on the right. It’s slightly ajar, and when Eddie knocks politely, it opens further.

“Hey,” a cheerful, male voice says. “You guys are early!”

When Eddie spots the source of the voice, he nearly swallows his tongue.

The man is tall, with broad shoulders and huge arms, a sunny smile on his face that looks so genuine Eddie can’t help but smile back. There’s a splash of pink over his one eye, his hair is just the slightest bit curly, and his eyes are startlingly blue. He’s also about 80% legs, and leaning on a cane to walk.

Belatedly, Eddie remembers that he should say something too, not just stare at this guy approaching them.

“Uh,” he starts eloquently. “Sorry. This one was getting impatient at home ~ Newly arrived to LA, Eddie decides to take his son to parent/child cooking classes. The instructor is so much more than he expected

stupid people. by brewrosemilk (@gayhoediaz) | 160k | Explicit

New in Los Angeles, and having recently admitted to himself that he's gay, Eddie figures that hiring a sex worker might be a good way to keep his private life cut off from his job and his son. A way to keep things from becoming too complicated.

It works. For a while.

your dreary mondays by hammersmiths (@henswilsons) | 33k | Teen

“Wait, you need a sitter?” Chimney says. Eddie nods. “Maddie’s brother got back in town a few nights ago, he’s looking for work.”

Eddie frowns. He doesn’t know much about this mysterious brother of Maddie’s – doesn’t even really know much about Maddie, either, aside from being Chimney’s girlfriend – but he’s pretty sure every time he’s been brought up in conversation it’s not been particularly inspiring. “Is this the brother who flunked out of college because he spent all his tuition on a motorcycle?”

Chimney colours a little. “Um. No?”

or, Buck babysits Christopher and Eddie is—fine about it, actually.

one single thread of gold (tied me to you) by heartbeatdiaz (@heartbeatdiaz) | 4k | Teen

Eddie doesn't know much about Chris' science teacher, except that he's his son favorite and apparently knows everything there's to know. ( Those were Christopher's words. )

So when he enters the classroom, expecting an old man dressed nicely but a little old-fashioned as the science teacher, his whole life crashes to a halt.

"Evan?" The man who's leaning against the desk, looking at some papers, suddenly startles and looks up at Eddie with wide blue eyes.

"Holy shit," It's what the man says after spending at least a minute opening and closing his mouth. or; Eddie met Evan when he was a bartender in Peru and Eddie was on vacation with his cousins. They had a one night stand and Eddie woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a disappointed heart. Just for the same guy to end up being Chris' teacher years after.

always glad you came by foxwatson (@eddiediazes) | 5k | Teen

Buck is the incredibly kind but incredibly straight bartender at Eddie's local gay bar. Eddie is trying very, very hard not to be pathetically in love with him, and is failing miserably.

“Hey, you’re back,” Buck had said, greeting him with that sun-bright grin, and Eddie had yet again been reminded why he’d started questioning his sexuality.

“Well, I get one night off a week. And tonight I could really use the drink.”

Buck’s brow had furrowed, and he got Eddie his favorite beer without even asking again what it was. “You need to talk about it? Assuming I read you right and you’re the kind of guy who talks to a bartender instead of a therapist.”

Eddie had winced theatrically. “Ouch. That obvious, huh?”

“Hey, man, you’re the one that told me you started coming here on your coworker’s advice. Feels like something you’d get from a therapist, if you had one.”

see the stars with my morning eyes by trippedandfell (@trippedandfell) | 3k | Teen

“So,” Buck announces, sitting down between Hen and Chimney at the concessions stand. “I think Eddie’s trying to get me to sleep with him and his fiancée.”

or: Eddie calls Lucy his partner. Buck extrapolates.

walking on sunshine by fallingthorns (@fallingthorns) | 5k | Teen

“Shut up,” Buck grumbles at the dog. “It’s not a crush.”

Buck walks out of the room, out the backdoor, and into the yard, trying to ignore his large and judgmental dog following behind him.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Buck tells him as he gets the hose out to start watering his plants. “Keep it to yourself.”

“Who are you talking to?”

Buck startles and drops the hose, doing a quick 180-degree turn and coming face-to-face with Eddie. He’s clearly standing on something, elbows folded over the top of the fence and chin resting on them as he looks at Buck. His expression looks almost fond and it kind of makes Buck want to both preen and die of embarrassment. -- Or, the one where Buck owns a doggy daycare, has a large dog with an attitude, and is hopelessly in love with his new neighbor.

Under Any Roof by moncuries (@moncuries) | 10k | Teen

Eddie Diaz does not need a noisy neighbor on top of all the shit he's trying to work out.

But he does make really good mac and cheese. -- “You know,” And Buck is meeting his eyes now. They’re uncannily blue. Like Kool-Aid or popsicles. “If you want, I could show you what I get up to up there?”

What? WHAT? Eddie feels heat spread from the tips of his ears to his toes. No way had he just gotten propositioned before sunrise in the decrepit hallway of their apartment building. “Um. No.” He backs up until his calves brush the door to 101. “Thank you, really. But no.”

my house of stone, your ivy grows by stayeven (@demieddie) | 7k | Mature

When Eddie resigns himself to buying sex toys in person—despite the popularity of online ordering now—he expects to be embarrassed and overwhelmed. What he doesn't expect is to leave with a crush on the employee with captivating blue eyes.

and we can stay all day by trippedandfell (@trippedandfell) | 3k | Teen

“So let me get this straight,” Hen says, once she’s stopped laughing at him. “Your nerd crush-

“-Evan Buckley,” Eddie miserably interjects.

“Your nerd crush,” Hen repeats, waggling her eyebrows. At the kitchen table beside her, Chimney is grinning like Christmas just came early. “Read your drunk tweet and then sent you animal facts via DM?”

or: Buck's a zoologist. Eddie's pretty sure he's in love.

#Fics I love #Buddie #Eddie Diaz #Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley #911onfox #911 fan fiction #buddiefanfiction #Buddie fic #911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 on abc

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