#max phillips mention

[syd-djarin]

she's my collar - frankie morales x f!reader

**reupload**

Frankie gets jealous of your handsy boss at your work gala. He’s got an idea to remind you that you’re his (and that he belongs to you). 

tags/warnings: EXPLICIT 18+, newly established relationship, special Max Phillips mention, they're in love!, slight age gap (frankie is 44, reader is 35 in my mind) use of LEASH + collar (on reader), a jealous and possessive Frankie, first big "fight", sex in front of mirror, fingering, a lil rimming/butt play action, eating it from the back, Frankie is a NASTY DOG so he's doing it doggy style, cowgirl position, excessive use of pet names(baby, bebita, etc.) a few sluts sprinkled in, use of spanish, creampie (unprotected p in v sex), healthy communication and healthy relationship dynamics, frankie is a loverboy, love confession

 *reader wears makeup & a dress but isn't really described so use that beautiful imagination! I wrote this with a plus size reader in mind, but NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTIONS are used. No skin tone, ethnicity or race descriptors used, she is YOU.

thank u to my beautiful babes @almostempty, @gothcsz and @myownwholewildworld for being my cheerleaders and for matching my freak! <333

wc: 2.5k

resources: consulted spanish use here by @urmomsgnocchi and here by @myownwholewildworld, inclusivitity in fandom

smut below the cut ;)

“What is it, Frankie? You've been quiet since we hopped on the elevator.” 

“It’s nothing, I promise.”

”You’re a terrible liar,” you lightly tease. “ I know you don��t love crowds, I’m sorry. I should have checked in with you throughout the night…. I was just—”

”its not that—“

”— excited to bring you to the gala, I’ve never had anyone to bring and I wanted to show you off to everyone… oh my god, is the room too much? We don’t have to stay, I just figured it would be late and it was comped by the company so it made sense.. even though neither of us drink I just thought ya know we could have a mini staycation for a night… I mean we made it official like, last month. Fuck, I’m sorry, I mean you had to rent a suit! I—“ you ramble your hands wildly punctuating your thoughts.

You’re overthinking the entire night.

”No, no, s’not that.” He grabs your hand and squeezes three times (for I love you). “I’m happy to be your plus one any time, any place,” he kisses your knuckles. His beard tickles your fingers, making you giggle.

“I….ahem..” he clears his throat. “Was a little jealous,” he admits, looking down at his shoes.

Shame swirls in his gut, deep down, he knows this is just an insecurity rearing its vicious head. He learned the difficult and very hands on way that burying his feelings eventually makes the wounds fester. So, he’s keeping the wounds clean, so to speak. 

“Jealous?! Jealous of what?” 

“I don’t like being the guy who gets jealous when another dude even looks at their partner… I didn’t think I was that kinda guy but…”

“But?…”

 “I don't like that sleazy motherfucker you work with,” 

“Who?”

“You know, the clean shaven douche canoe who kept touching you all night.”

”Max? My boss?”

”Matt, Max, whatever his name is. Didn’t like the way he looked at you…kept putting his hand on your shoulder…”

You’ve had jealous boyfriends before and it's not an experience you’re looking to have again. It has your nerve endings on edge and you feel heat rise from your chest to your face. 

“I appreciate your honesty but I can’t help it, okay? I mean he’s just...like that.”

“So you let him get away with it?” 

“Get away with it??!” You rip your hand from his and scurry to the adjoining bathroom. ”What do you want me to do? I need this job, Frankie.” You hastily start removing your evening glam, using too-aggressive-for-your-face circles with the cleanser, ignoring the way your heart is racing, a bit from anger and a hint of something else...

He follows you, leaning against the doorframe. Even though your back is to him, you know he looks ridiculously hot right now.

“Look… I didn’t mean to be accusatory or blame you. I know it sounded that way and I’m sorry. It's just…”

“Just what?” you avoid his eyes taking advantage of the sudsy wash covering your face. 

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. You’re it for me, baby. I get scared though… of losing you.” 

Frankie has never been this vulnerable before. He's a lot more open and laid back than he used to be, and he’s not shy about telling you how he adores you, all the things he loves about you, the future he sees with you. But candidly speaking about his fears and doubts, the insecurities that threaten to swallow him whole, well, he’d rather be swallowed up by a giant fish. 

Despite the annoyance of his jealousy, you hate to admit you feel your clit jump and the palpitations are no longer from anger, but from arousal.

“I understand. Completely. I have fears, insecurities too… but Frankie,” you sigh, “I don’t like a jealous partner. In my experience… it just escalates and…”

“So you wouldn’t feel jealous?” 

“There a reason I should be?” You feel like you’re going to rip out of your skin. Your attempt to deflect is doing little to mask the ferocity bubbling within you.

“No? I was hoping that us talking about it would, you know...help.” Frankie says, a little softer and a bit more disarmed than his previous words. 

“Well it didn’t help, you just…just pissed me off,” you snap back, so flustered and tumbling over your words, one of your tells that you’re turned on. 

It’s then it clicks for him. He grins wickedly.

“Wanna know what I think? I think you like it.”

“What? Frankie—“

”I think…” Frankie steps closer, crowding you against the bathroom sink. “You like that I’m jealous. I think that it makes your little pussy wet. And you don’t know what to do about it.”

“No, I don’t like it—“ You try turning your head away but his hand finds your chin and turns you back to him.

“It’s okay if you like it baby… Maybe, this is the first time you've been turned on by it, perhaps it's because I'm not one of these fucking dipshits you've dated before... or,  you’re a filthy slut…” he leans even closer, his breath tickling your ear. “I should put you on a leash.”

He beckons you to follow him to his overnight bag. He pulls out a leash and collar made of smooth black leather and adorned with metallic hardware. He must have seen the sites you were browsing clandestinely in preparation of sharing your fantasy with him. He’s so attuned to you, your emotions, your thoughts, it’s no surprise he caught on so quickly. 

You’re dizzy from the emotional whiplash, you were ready to throttle him moments ago and now you need him to fuck you to tears. 

He gently fastens the collar around your neck. “How’s that feel?”

You’re momentarily stunned, your brain desperately trying to catch up. 

“Mírame, bebita,” he turns your head to face him in the mirror hanging directly across from the bed. You knew Frankie would take advantage of the ceiling to floor mirrors adorning the room. 

 “Good girl. keep your eyes forward for me, okay?”

“G-ood,” you rasp out, unable to form any other words.

“Want you to get used to just the collar then we’ll add the leash, yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Need your words, honey.”

“Y-yes, Frankie. Sounds good to me.”

He kisses your temple. “Good.”

Frankie’s big hands cup your breasts, massaging them, thumbing your nipples. He’s slow and methodical in the way he builds up the sensations. 

“F—fuck, feels good,” you moan. 

“I love these tits… love the way they feel in my hands, love them in my mouth…” he punctuates his point, slightly pinching and pulling  your hardened nipples. “Hard to keep my hands to myself, especially around others…”

The thought of Frankie claiming you in front of others, especially your boss, makes you moan involuntarily. 

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you? Showin’ everyone how sweet you beg for my cock, how much your pussy drools for it?”

He’s got you on all fours close to the edge of the bed and he’s behind you. 

“Fucking love your ass, baby.” He kneads the soft flesh of your cheeks, spreading you open. Cool air hits your dripping core, goosebumps raising on your skin. 

Frankie lowers his head closer to your ass and spits. He groans watching the trail of saliva drip from your asshole down to your clit. You clench around nothing, desperate to be stuffed full of him. 

“Pussy’s droolin’ just for me, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan. 

Frankie lands a smack to your right cheek. “C’mon, tell me, baby. Tell me who makes your pussy gush like this?” 

“Yo-you, only you, Frankie!” 

He swats your other cheek. “That’s right.”

“Fuck I’ll never get over this pussy,” he growls into you, he licks long stripes from your clit to your soaked entrance, caressing you with his tongue. 

He’s said on multiple occasions his love language is eating pussy. You can’t argue with that. 

He knows how hard to suck on your clit, where you like the tip of his tongue, where you like the broad strokes, when to alternate between all the motions. 

Normally he’d take this part slow too, but the jealousy that’s lodged itself in his chest is still calling the shots. 

“Bet your asshole tastes just as sweet.” he pulls back to give you space to consent. 

“You want to–?” you turn your head to peek behind you and look at Frankie directly. 

“Yeah baby, but only if you want it,” he says, caressing the backs of your thighs. 

“Yes, please.” 

“My pretty girl is sweet too, asking so nicely…tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, okay?”

You manage to you choke out a yes, baby.

He ghosts the tip of his tongue around your asshole, the lightest of pressures, swirling it to ease you into the feeling. 

The new sensation has you reeling, thankful Frankie is focused on your ass more than the way you look in the mirror right now — truthfully you almost didn’t recognize the hazy, ravaged woman staring back at you.

Two of Frankie's thick fingers enter your dripping hole, curling them to hit the spot that makes your legs shake.

"Oh-fuuuuuuck!" You squeal when his tongue continues lapping at your ass and his fingers are hooked, pumping in and out of your pussy. "Please, Frankie I need to come, pleeeaase."

“You filthy girl... you want to come on my fingers?"

"Uh-huh.”

"Show me what you got, bebita. Soak my fingers and I'll put the leash on, c'mon, you're so close I can feel it."

His encouragement, talking you through it never fails to hurl you over the edge. You're warm and tingly all over, breath in shallow pants - the first orgasm with Frankie is always a gentle one that preps you for what comes next. 

 Frankie peppers kisses on your lower back, the back of your thighs, murmuring praises against your skin. Did so good for me, my pretty girl, love watching you come, always wanna make you feel good…

Frankie clips the leash onto the collar. He tugs gently to bring your back to his chest. 

“Feelin’ good, baby?” His lips ghosting your temple. 

“Yeah, s’good,” you slur.

He chuckles - it's adorable how cock drunk you get. 

Frankie taps the thick head of his cock against your clit, sliding it through your lips a few times. 

“Please, Frankie, I need you…” you whine. 

He lands a swat to your ass. “Yeah? And what is it that you need from me?” 

Normally you’d have a rejoinder for him, but your head is hazy and all you want is your Frankie and his big cock inside you. And because you like getting what you want, you play along. 

“Need you to fuck me, baby. I need your cock inside me… wanna be full, please baby…” you whine in a syrupy tone he falls victim to every time. 

His cock bottoms out in one sweet push, your moans harmonize, stars form on the edges of your vision just from the fullness.  

“Fuck, gimme a minute.” He nearly busts prematurely– the pent up feelings, the way your eyes gleamed when he pulled out the collar, the privilege of being vulnerable with you.                                 

You push back against him, seeking friction and movement. This earns you a spank and a tug, pulling your head back so he can groan right in your ear. 

“Needy girl…Balls deep inside you and it’s not enough for you is it? Always a slut for this cock aren’t you baby?” A shiver runs up your spine. Slut is a new one. Must have come with the leash. 

“Yeahhh, I know you like being my pretty slut.”

He begins deep, slow thrusts before picking up a steady rhythm, hitting that spot each time. 

Frankie's been edging you - bringing you so close to release before cruelly and deliciously taking it away. Tears, drool and your juices have drenched the hotel comforter.

"Frankie, please I can't, I need to come, please please, Frankie!" You beg.

He abruptly pulls out of you and situates himself against the headboard. He pulls the leash, guiding you into his lap.

"Wanna watch you cum on my cock...wanted these fucking tits in my face baby," he moans, taking a pert nipple in his mouth. You sink down onto him, every nerve ending in your body on fire - you're already on the verge of release, just from being filled at this angle. 

Frankie's free hand finds your clit and begins calculated circles, all while tugging your head to meet his. Sweat drenched foreheads pressed together, Frankie's hips meet your movements, his hips bouncing off your ass in each thrust.

"I'm close–” you’re dazed, floaty, absolutely wrecked.

“Whose pussy is this?” He growls.

“Yours–!”

“Say it again. Whose fucking pussy is this?” this time louder, more raw than before.

“Yours, Frankie! O-only yours.”

“Again, say you’re mine, baby..” His voice trembles.

 You know he needs this –needs reassurance, and this is his way of asking for it. 

“Only yours, only ever yours–” grind. “forever baby… not–” grind. “Going–” grind. “anywhere…”

“Come for me, show me how pretty your pussy creams for me. Godddddddamnnn baby, fuck—“ Frankie groans. 

If he had to choose how to go out of this world, it would be just like this. 

OhmygodFrankiefuckI’mcomingohfuckohfuck is the jumbled chant that escapes your lips when you soak his cock. He’s mesmerized by the way your pussy lips spread open for his cock, how divinely sinful your pussy looks covered in your cum, how your cum looks on his shaft – creamy rings of your cum adorn his cock. He’d keep it that way forever if he could, a type of lecherous jewelry he’d wear in pride. 

“Cum for me, Frankie, baby it's your turn.”

“Where? Quick–”

“Inside! Inside me pl–” 

“Oh ffffffuuuuuckkk, baby,” he whines as cum spills into you. “Oh, I love you so fucking much…” he declares before burying his face in your neck. He swiftly unhooks the leash and collar before collapsing into each other's embrace, and you wrap around him koala bear style.

I love you so much. 

The first time it's been uttered in your relationship. You’ve both felt it, knew what you both share is a once in a lifetime love, but, both of you bring past baggage. Neither afraid of loving again, but afraid of what happens when you name it as such. It feels silly now that he’s said them. 

You tug on his curls to gaze into his sable eyes. “I love you, Francisco. More than you know.” 

He smirks – the coy and sheepish one he gets when he doesn’t know how to accept a compliment. The irony that he just put you in a collar and rearranged your guts, but is shy about confessing your love to him is not lost on you.  

“Yeah, I get the general idea.” 

“Hmm, maybe if you’re not convinced, I should put you on the leash next time.”

tagging some frankie babes: @hellishjoel @for-a-longlongtime @jolapeno @whiskeyneat-coffeeblack @kirsteng42 @studioghibelli @katiexpunk @thedilfdiaries

[dilf-docs]

He Comes Alive At Midnight (Every Night)

max phillips x younger fem!reader

summary: everyone in your office is turning into vampires. literally. the unbelievable scenario only seems to get worst when you find out the one behind it all is your ex-boss, max phillips.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, dubcon, choking, thigh riding, bit of dry humping?, oral (f. receiving), p. in v., creampie, overstimulation, rough sex, dom!max, tw: blood, blood kink, stalking themes, humilliation kink

word count: 6,005 words

side note: hi. this movie sucked ass. and yes, yet again i've watched a movie for a man (are we surprised!). it was the camp so-bad-it's-fun type of movie, but at least me and @ann-gell had a good time. also, the random matthew lillard cameo wtf- we were both in shock IJBOL but anyway, we wanted to watch this movie for a while 'til the "blood kink fic" became a joke, but then i qtd a post in twitter abt the movie,, it was divine intervention atp. please enjoy while i cook the three joel miller fanfics inside my draft soup. GUYS IF THIS FLOPS I WILL KILL U ALL THEN MYSELF

This day couldn't get any worse.

First, Evan and Tim had been bothering you all morning. Your fault? Being Amanda's best friend in the office. You had told the men to (not so) kindly fuck off, and then the big boss had called you to his office to inform you about great news: you had to help Evan and Andrew's slacker ass to finish the Phallusite presentation. Just fucking great. Also, you woke up to find the knob of your main door broken. How? No idea, but you were just tired of the day, begging for it to end. But it's just started.

And it's about to get worse.

"Hey, y/n" you raise your view, stopping your typing. It's Evan, again.

"I think I was clear this morning" you say, not bothering to keep on looking at him.

"It's not about Amanda" you chuckle, and he sighs at your reaction. "Ted wants everyone on his office"

"Is this the part where you expect me to ask?" you drop, sardonic.

"He says he's got an announcement to make" it's not hard to miss the hopeful glint on his eyes. He bends over your cubicle and whispers, "I think he's going to make me sales manager"

You don't have time to entertain the man. No one in particular (sadly, just the customers, because that's about your job), but less the man partly responsible for your new assignment. So this means you too don't have motivation at all to assist to your boss' meeting, but hey, it's your job-- not like there's an option there.

In the end, the announcement was indeed about the sales manager position that had been empty as for now. But it only takes a turn for the worst for both you and Evan.

"So, I'm proud to announce our new manager of sales, Max Phillips"

Enter him: confident strut and cocky smirk. He takes off his dark shades (who in their right mind wears sunglasses inside an office barely grazed by light?) as people clap.

It's like the world stops.

"No, no, no. Not Max" you hear Tim whisper next to you. You turn your head, eavesdropping on their conversation as Mike asks him who the hell Max is. "Max, Evan and I went to college together. It's kind of a long story"

"That wasn't long" Andrew counters. Mike agrees.

"Oh, did I mention that Max slept with Evan's girlfriend, so Evan had Max kicked out of school for cheating, so Max punched Evan in the face?" he adds.

You raise an eyebrow.

"No. You skipped all that"

"Hey, y/n. You okay?" Tim nudges you with his elbow as Max keeps talking, but your brain has reduced his voice to a loud pitched ring.

"Huh?"

"You're pale" Andrew agrees.

You scoff. "Can't a girl be pale anymore this days?"

"Well" Mike coughs. Of course. "You're not exactly-"

"What's that noise behind?" Ted catches up on your chatter.

Now you figure you've gone at least ten shades lighter. Practically a fucking ghost by now.

Especially when he sees you. Oh, his auburn carry a wicked gleam, and he's licking his lips as he locks his eyes into you, despite being glued to the corner behind the rest of your coworkers.

"Sales is... seduction" he drops the word, gaze not leaving yours. Evan seems to notice, looking over his shoulder to see it's you who Max is looking at. "And when you seduce, do you say: I have a 401k? or I floss? No. You say... I love you"

You gulp down, nervously, your throat oddly constricted.

"Why is this guy looking at you?" Tim asks. You can't find the words to answer.

He continues talking, leaving you alone, but by the way he smirked, you know this is just the beginning.

And you're back to where it started: the sunny California, your old life in LA. You had a job, friends and a boyfriend. It was nice, like an ice cream while watching the sunset. It was safe-- this was all you knew.

Enter Max.

Your friends stopped talking to you, turning into weird versions of themselves: they only seemed to know how to work, fuck, not sleep and repeat. Then, your boyfriend broke up with you: couldn't even scramble off words to form a good excuse, despite being together for four years. And then the worst of it all: him, your boss, who couldn't stop finding ways to get under your skin, your back hitting all the walls of the office, where he'd corner your shaking frame. Words always seemed to be lost when Max breathed over you, his cologne still on your clothes as you arrived home. You rejected every advance with a silent temperance, not even giving him the pleasure of a reply. So then it started: the missing clothes, the broken windows and the previously locked doors open.

Suddenly, the knob this morning doesn't feel like a simple mistake and more of a sinister coincidence, making the pit in your stomach sink further.

You had left, hoping it was all in the past. But now he's here, talking about making a million dollar in sales this month like he hadn't ruin your life.

"It's aggressive, yes" Max agrees while sitting on Ted's desk, legs sprawled open on a manspread, "but I'm confident we can hit it. And if we don't, Ted and I have already agreed... we'll be forced to kill all of you"

A cold shiver runs down your back. You don't know what Max Phillips is capable of, but you believe it.

"So you better do what he says!" encouraging, but feels like a threat.

You catch Evan stay behind, probably to talk with Ted about what the fuck just happened. You would too, but how could you explain it? That your ex-boss had found a way to sneak back into your life, slithering with a deathly venom into your new office's grounds. It is during this brief stop that something hard collides against you. Well, someone. And of course, that someone is him.

"Small world, huh?" he chuckles. Before you can even think of replying, his broad shoulders brush with yours in a swift manner as he passes by, yet it feels like a deliberate violent hit. You watch him close the door of his office, which used to be Evan's, sliding his name over the position's plaque. He could've slid a knife over your throat as well and it would've felt the same.

Weird things had happened. First, the new intern dissapeared. No one noticed, of course, but you cared about these small things. Then, Dave started acting all weird and aggressive, long gone the pathetic man who only talked about his cat and couldn't bring himself to ask back the money he was owed.

And the office got darker, because you never needed glasses, but now seemed to squint your eyes to read your computer's screen. Or maybe it was the lack of sleep: you hadn't been able to close your eyes, rather positioned yourself in watch at your door, prepared for anything to happen. So far, nothing, but you wouldn't fool yourself to let your guard down.

Now, you sit with both Andrew and Evan as you try to finish the Phallusite presentation; everyone else has gone home.

"And you can call me Ward Cleaver 'cause I just banged out June"

"Nice"

You roll your eyes at their antics.

It's Andrew's turn. "You can call me Uncle Ben because I just nailed May"

Didn't uncle Ben die?

You keep it to yourself. Then, they both look at you, expecting.

"Call me Fed-Ex, because I always deliver!"

Andrew winces. Evan sighs, giving you an awkward smile.

"There was an attempt"

"Fuck you, guys. It was good!"

"Oh, shit" Evan curses. "Zabeth only brought up the hard copies through July" he looks at Andrew, "can you run downstairs and get August?"

He's not fully convinced, but then he's gone. Evan looks at you, and you give him a weird look.

"Why do you look at me like that?"

"I'm about to do something I shouldn't" he pauses. "Don't tell anyone"

You cross your arms over your chest. "You're overestimating how much I care"

"It's about Max"

He must've sensed your change in demeanor, the mask slipping for a brief moment, because he grins in satisfaction.

"Oh, it seems I'm not the only one with shared history with Phillips, huh?"

You spin your chair around, back facing him. "I don't want to talk about that"

"We don't have to" he's quick to agree. "I just want to get rid of him" Evan makes a pause, hoping you're in. When you turn around, seems like you are, "will you help me?"

Getting rid of Max Phillips (again) sounds the closest heaven on earth.

"But you can't tell anyone else about this" you pause, "or about me and Max"

"Whatever it is" he assures, "I'm taking it to my deathbed"

You purse your lips. "I'm still not telling you"

"Oh" he barely hides his dissapointment. "Okay, yeah. Not like I was expecting it-"

You get up from your chair. "Let's go"

"Right"

That night, you both broke into his office. Inside, you recognized Amanda's folder. It contained the profiles of your coworkers. The cutting employees was real then, huh? To confirm your theory, some pictures were circled while others were crossed over with red marker: Mike was crossed, and he was gone. Curiously, neither you nor Evan had anything scribbled over. You reach the last profile on the file: Ted, your boss. Crossed.

"We have what we need. You are free to go home and get some rest" he palms the file. "Tomorrow is a big day. Max Phillips will be history, and that's all that matters"

"And the meeting"

He seems to remember. "Right, sorry"

After biding proper goodbyes, you drive home, but your mind is elsewhere as you pass empty dim-lit streets. All you can think of is Max hadn't made a decision on you yet. Worse, you didn't know if that's good or bad.

You toss around in bed, unable to find some sleep. Glancing at the clock in the nighstand, and it reads three in the morning.

This is crazy. But you still get out of bed, shower, do your make up and speed the brakes back to the office.

Maybe it was the anxiety for Max's appearence or the Phallusite deal, you ponder as you ride the elevator up, which is why you're real early to your office day. You will practice, you tell yourself, and master the presentation until the words are ingraned into your brain.

You're in the middle of a slide when a sound catches your ear. You look around: it's not even five in the morning, the sun is still down, and aside from you, there's no one else in the building.

You try to calm yourself down, blaiming an animal or the wind. But then it sounds again. You get up from your desk, shaky legs doing a small round.

"Hello?" you ask into the eerie silence, "is anyone there?"

You walk towards your desk again, ready to sit down, when there's a banging sound heard from downstairs. Now you start to realize you never saw Andrew come back.

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You gulp, harshly, and jolt back to your desk. In a rush, you grab your things, but as you zip your bag, a swoosh passes by through you. Kneeling down, you hide below your desk. And then you hear it. Steps. Menacing, paused steps. You cover your mouth, trying not to make a sound, while the other one clutches your bag so hard, your hand turns white.

The steps move away, but the exit seems so far away. You take your chances, and run to the first door you can see. Inside, you lock it as fast as you can, bag dropping to the floor when a loud banging starts on the other side. You tremble in the dark office, thinking this is it: no presentation, no getting rid of Max. No, you would pathetically die in a telemarketing office.

"Go away!" you pleadingly cry to whoever, or whatever, is on the other side. "Leave me alone, please!"

The banging stops. Just like that? You doubt your good luck. Then, how was that phrase again?

If the predator leaves the prey, is because he has become it.

You pray to God, close your eyes and accept your fate. But then the lights turn on.

"Hello, little dove"

(The nickname. He had call you that once, laughing at the way your eyes avoided his gaze, like a coward. How the hairs on your cold skin had prickled, the blood rushing to your cheeks in a delicious red Max couldn't stop thinking about. You had worn white that day: the day he decided he was going to make your life impossible)

You could be deaf and still recognize the voice. Your body gives up, falling to the floor. Your heart and yesterday's reheated lasagna you had for lunch rise up in your throat.

What a terrible sick joke.

He, the one you had escaped from before. He, who you pictured be gone as of today, now cornering you inside an office you had locked yourself, outside God knows what.

He, Max Phillips in the flesh.

"Max" you say his name like it's forbidden.

You refuse to meet him in the eye, gaze trained to the floor.

"You have to calm down, y/n. Your heart is going like crazy!" he jumps up from his chair, where he had been previously sitting, legs drapped over his desk. "Tell me, what's got you so worried?"

Taunting. Mocking. Downright cruel. Like he spat in your face.

"Hey, I'm talking to you" his voice is soft, but then his fingers dig in your arm, pulling you up with a surprising strength. You yelp as Max raises you in your feet, still refusing contact. "I'm your boss, y/n. Don't forget that. I could get your little bratty ass kicked out, so you better do as I say"

You feel his breath ghost over your face in rapid puffs. It's too quiet. His fingers press on the soft tissues of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, eliciting a cry out of you.

"And look at me when you speak"

"You" you seethe out, tongue dripping in venom.

(You, who ruined my life. Who made me leave behind everything and everyone I knew. The reason why I was scared to leave my house and meet strangers in the eye. You, Max, who despite it all, lingers in my mind. Who's under my skin, deep in the dirty marrow of my bones, in my flesh, in my veins, rushing through with the same guilty pleasure nicotine does)

"Me?" he chuckles amused, "what about me, little dove?"

"I escaped from you once" you spit. "I will do it again. But you won't ruin my life this time"

He lets out a big laugh, right in your face. It makes your blood run cold.

"You think you escaped from me? Aw, little dove. That's adorable" he chuckles darkly. "You won because I let you"

It comes crashing down with the weight of a sinking ship.

"W-what...?"

A satisfied smirk paints across his features. "That's right, y/n. Let you get away just to see your pretty face shine in satisfaction. Have I told you how I love when your eyes shine when you think you've won? I gotta say, I missed it. Seeing them closed while you sleep isn't the same" he sighs, his face now practically buried against yours, and you swear you feel his teeth graze it when Max opens his mouth to speak. "Had to have the very real thing in front of me"

The open windows and broken locs. He had been there: inside the safety of your home, the illusion now gone.

"Liar" you grit, "you sick fuck"

"Face it" his nose digs in your flushed cheek, hand still on your chin. He takes a whiff out of your smell, the vainilla making him dizzy: it's the same one he remembers. Your scent is so inviting, mixed with your fear, that it makes him lick his lips. "You're as obssesed with me as I am with you"

"I don't know what makes you think that" his head dives to your collarbones. You squirm as his wet tongue licks a sleazy trail through your neck, staying on a spot.

"Oh, but I think you do" and his mouth starts to suck on that spot until the skin cries in a purple rain. "Thought I wouldn't notice, huh? Your perfume is all over my office, baby. Can I ask, what where you doing here?"

His other hand smacks harshly against your chest. It travels up, until it gets to the valley of your tits. He slides it inside the fabric of your white button up blouse, your heartbeat bellow.

"And don't try to lie to me" he threats in a low rumble, "because I'll know when you do"

"The papers, in your desk" you manage to whisper out. "Came to see who you were firing and who was staying"

"And was it just you?"

"Y-yes" you feel his squeeze one of your tits between his fingers, the calloused digits imprinting themselves on the plush skin.

"You sure?" you yelp when he roughly grabs a breast. "Have you already forgotten what I told you, little dove, huh? Or ar my hands too... distracting"

You let out a sharp breath. "Evan was there too"

"Fucking coward" he spits. "Can't get over our little fight still. Did he tell you what happened?"

You nod.

"Good, then you're aware I'm the better thing" his hand leaves your chest, but the other one still grabs you from your chin. Your eyes close when his free hand finds its way to your neck, his big fingers wrapping around your throat. As you feel a moan ready to leave your mouth, you sink your teeth into your lower lip. There’s no way you'll give him that satisfaction. "Looking so pretty with my hand around you"

His thumb presses on your weak spot, making you gasp for air.

"I need you to be a good girl and swear on it"

You squirm under his weight pressed on you, but it's futile.

"I swear on my life that I'll be a good girl" your lungs burn when you say it.

His grip on your throat tightens. "Say that again"

You gulp with difficulty. "I swear"

He slams your body against the wall. "Say it!"

"I swear!" you cry out, "I swear!"

"Good" he chuckles darkly. "Because this time, I'll make sure of it"

He finally cuts the distance, trapping your lips in his. He's pulling you closer by your waist, your name dropping from his mouth in a sultry sickeningly sweet voice.

"You know you can touch if you want, right?" he taunts, seeing how you ball your fists to the sides. "I'm all yours"

Your brain begs you to keep fighting, but you're stuck in the way his mouth feels in yours: invasive, like the way he'd stalk you, violating every bit of privacy, destroying every sense of safety you had. Now, he's eating you out, tongue in your insides as he chases your touch, his hand taunting your back with fleeting touches, up and down in your back, waiting for the moment you cave in.

A breathy moan pushes past your lips.

"Max" falls past your treacherous mouth, body dizzy and confused with pleasure.

You drap your leg over his hip, the pencil skirt riding up your thighs, as he puts his hand below to support it. With your fingers, you grab his short hair.

"That's right, little dove" he humms in approval. "Surrender yourself to me"

His thigh parts a space between your legs, thick muscle now grinding against your warmth.

"Please" you whimper at the friction.

He chuckles at that, eyes darkening.

"You sound so pretty when you beg"

You mewl at the praise, rolling your hips back and forth on his thigh.  The pressure on your folds burns like a candle: a warm burn, intense yet gentle. Max moves his knee slowly, trying to even your desperate movements. The air burns yet again in your lungs, and only then you allow yourself to kiss him.

He's quick to reciprocate, his palm cupping your cheek, the size so big, it practically covers all of your face. He swallows your moans in the heat of the kiss, and you only pull back when you need to breath.

Max then takes the chance to get to your neck again, sucking on the skin hungrily, especially on that one spot he had licked before. At the same time, his hard cock runs against your clothed pussy, his hips meeting where you rub yourself each time.

You roll your head to the side, reduced to a whimpering mess.

He tears open your blouse, buttons flying as he takes the opportunity to dip his head in your collarbones, nipping at the skin as he gets rid of it completely.

"Oh, little dove" he touches your waist as your hands grip at his back. "You're so beautiful, my sweet temptress. Lurking around, ever since California, couldn't stop thinking about you. Needed to have you, all for me"

He slides the lace of your bra in a harsh tug, almost ripping the lingerine. Now, your breasts are fully exposed, and the nipples perk with the cold hitting them. With one swift move, he picks you up and throws you into his desk, the papers flying everywhere. Max is back at the task of kissing your neck, like he's fascinated by it.

"Enough of the games, eh" he mocks your fucked-out state. "Gonna give you the real goods, yes? So you'll see why both Evan's college ex girlfriend and Amanda prefer me"

Once your skirt is rode up, he grinds his exposed cock against your pussy, your dripping wet folds receiving the change―the contact without layers anymore―in a welcoming fluttering clench at nothing.

"So wet for me" Max rasps, leaving hickeys down your neck until he can finally kiss your collarbones. He's then sucking on your skin, his teeth brushing against your skin. "Can you feel that?" you squirm, "that's how much I want you, y/n. Need to take a bite of you"

He can feel your pulse quicken, the smell of your arousal deepening as his teeth scrape against your skin.

"Bite?" you ask, despite the way your head is dizzy. "Why?"

"Use that pretty head of yours, little dove" he mocks, "and think: why is everyone in this office acting weird now? There's your answer"

"I-I don't get it" you whine.

His eyes darken, and you swear his teeth get pointer.

"Don't worry. You soon will"

The first time his teeth sink, your head stops working. Your ears ring, and there's this burning sensation that comes in waves, washing over you until all you feel is nothing. Numb. The room spins, skin tingling like crazy. You moan and tangle your fingers in his hair as he harshly sucks and then he releases it again to bite into your flesh. The bite goes deep, fangs piercing your skin, electric pleasure courses through you, forcing you to yelp because you weren’t ready for it. 

"Just a taste, baby" he groans. "Just a little taste"

But then slurping sounds bounce off the walls, and you begin to see dark spots in your vision. Max moans, sounds drowned in the crook of your neck as he takes another bite, cock throbbing in his pristine pants.

"Fuck, y/n. You do know how to satisfy a man's hunger"

He traps your mouth with his, tongue pushing past your lips. You can feel the metallic taste of your own blood as he keeps grinding against you.

"M-Max" you squirm under his insistent grinding and abuse of your skin. He just chuckles, rubbing his fingers over your clothed pussy. You grip his arm for support, your nails sinking on his bicep. He hisses at the sting, but by the way he's smiling, that's the least of his worries.

"You're soaked, little dove. Don't tell me you're getting off at my teeth in your skin?" he raps, "on me feeding from you"

Max places a hand on your pussy, making you gasp and squirm.

"Don't worry, fun's just getting started"

You bite your lip so hard, blood pours out. You swear, even in your hazy vision, that he licks his lips. Then, with a wet lazy trace of his tongue, he licks it off your lips. He gawks at your face, hungrily so.

You look ruined, and he had just taken one small bite.

His eyes fall to your free breasts. Max can hear the sound of the pump of your veins, the rush addictive. He leans down with a smile, tongue darting across your sensible tits. Your boss can't help it when his teeth sink again in your skin, ichor pouring out in a lustful trail he's quick to lick off. You claw at his back, begging him to stop, but he's got you at his mercy, pinned under him, his bites now deeper as he growls at the sweet nectar maroon taste of you. He lets go, releasing your bruised flesh from his hungry greedy mouth.

"Fuck" he mutters, running a hand through his now disheveled hair. "If I don't stop now, I'll be at it for hours; whole office will come back and find you over my desk, begging and moaning. But we don't want to put on a show, do we?"

Yet his hand slips between your legs, fingers pushing your panties to the side. All you can do is squirm, wimpering as he's tracing your pussy, coating his digits with your slick.

"Tell me, little dove. Is your blood as sweet as this pussy?" Max sucks his fingers, an obscene slurping sound coming out of his mouth. The taste of your sweet ichor and your arousal... it's too much, even for a man as experienced as him. "Use your words to tell me how this feels"

His fingers part your folds, touching your clit. You blabber nonsense, and Max darkly laughs at how easy it was to have you under him, moaning and squirming because of his mouth and touch.

"Talk to me" he lulls, caressing your cheek. "Where did that loud mouthed brat go, huh? Or all it took was my fingers inside this pretty pussy for you to be an obedient good girl?"

That's what makes it hotter, he thinks. That you, who ran away from him, but now are so wet and sensitive, like you hadn't defied him in the past and ignored all his efforts to woo you.

"N-no" you stutter, eyes squeezed shut.

"No, what?" Max mocks. Then, snaps his fingers in your face. "Hey, look at me" he grabs your chin roughly. "You look at me when I fuck you, understood?"

When you open your eyes, a few tears spill out, the pleasure deeply rooted in the pain.

"Good girl" he praises, then licks the side of your face where the salty drops have fallen.

He drops on his knees, hand cupping all of your knee as his mouth leaves wet sloppy kisses on your thighs, up to your core. You writhe, twisting your fists at your sides until they turn white.

"Let me reward you properly" he adds under his breath, but before you can ask what he means, Max's fangs bare in your inner thigh, making you scream his name. He then sucks on the bite. He releases your thigh until he's done, moaning deeply.

"So good" he groans against your warm skin, your blood on his mouth acting like a lipstick of some sorts, red imprints of his mouth up your inner thigh. "Now, let's get to the point, shall we? It's almost time" the sun rising in the back a reminder of the running clock.

First, he pulls your skirt off. Then, he hooks his fingers in your panties and rips them off. Without loosing time, Max's hungry form is quick to bury his mouth in your pussy, your blood and your slick mixing in a combination that strains his pants.

He puts your legs over his shoulders, keeping you parted for his hungry mouth. His tongue laps at your entrance, doing circling minstrations around your clit, his moans of pleasure sending vibrations that make your walls flutter and pussy clench.

"My little dove" he coos, tongue poking his sharp fangs. Max's chin is dripping with your slick, and he licks off some of it. "Can't get enough of you"

You roll your head to the side arching your back.

"P-please" you beg, "don't stop"

He squeezes your thigh, red droplets of blood oozing out of your punctured skin. Max sucks hard, strong fingers keeping you hostage and cock growing in desperation as your legs tremble. He lets out a deep growl, slipping his fangs out of your flesh. You whimper when he kisses your pussy with a soft press of his lips.

"I won't. Not when you're being such a good girl"

With a desperate quick motion, he gets rid of his belt and pulls out of his pants, moving closer to your cunt with his heavy cock grazing on your bare cunt. He spanks your clit with it, making you mewl at the lingering sting.

"Will you keep being a good little docile bird for me, dove? I will give it to you if you behave"

"Please, please, please" you beg, long gone in the pain of your pussy clenching at nothing, the need to have him inside of you blurring the world around of you. "I was a good girl, let me have it"

Whatever he's done to you, you're too far gone in your fucked-out brain to make sense of this: your boss, bending you over his desk, fucking you and kissing you like you weren't disgusted by his invasive antics, like he hadn't just sucked your blood with fangs you'd never seen before.

A fucking vampire, as real as the way he's handling your body which is closer to ecstasy than ever.

"Then do" Max growls, pushing inside.

You let out a sharp breath, eyes closing shut as your toes curl inside your heels.

"That's right, baby, take all of me" he rasps, grinding his teeth. "I know your tight little pussy can"

He starts to move, and you feel so full of him, you can barely breath. You mewl, arching your back with each thrust, your body spasming and wet down your legs. Max hums satisfied, looking at you.

"Fucking work of art" his voice drips with adoration out loud.

But how can he contain himself? If you look so perfect, all spread out and claimed by him. Breasts covered in his bite marks, thighs still red from all the bloody kisses he left on your skin and neck marked by him.

"You're mine, get it? Gonna ruin this perfect pussy for any other man, little dove. You belong to me"

Desperate moans fill the room as his pace picks up, fast, as your body consumes him whole. The way your warmth wraps his cock, your fluttering walls, the taste of your arousal, and your sweet blood makes him feel like the most powerful man in the world as he pounds into your tight walls.

"Mine. Mine, all mine" he repeats. "Don't fucking forget that"

He angles his cock deep into you, grinding his pubic bone against your clit as his girth pumps up and down. He can feel his throbbing cock pulse inside of your sticky folds at the sight of you: so far gone, so ruined. Can't believe this is the same girl who claimed to hate him.

Every little sound, every sharp breath and wet slpa of skin against skin is for him. Your nails clawing at his back and arms, the way your head and eyes fall back... how you say his name... Who is crazier, him or you?

"Max..." you exhale, barely able to control your body. "I think I'm-"

"I know, little dove" he taunts. "I think I can tell when I make a girl feel good"

His face goes again to hide in the crook of your neck, hot ragged breath warming the spot.

"Be a little obedient bird and come for me"

A sharp sting makes you scream as you come undone, body convulsing and pussy clenching around him, massaging his girth, coaxing out every last drop of his release at the same time Max's sucking blood out of your neck.

"Sorry, my sweetest y/n. I can't hold back when your sweet scent is taunting me like this" his voice croaks, rough with a primal desire, all consuming. "Had to hold back since the very first day you stepped into the Cali office, with your tight little slutty skirts and open blouse, giving me a delicious peak of your breasts..."

His head falls back with a tight growl, voice strained with the effort of not cumming on the spot.

"Fuck, y/n, I fucking love this perfect little cunt. So fucking soft and hot and tight, gripping my cock like it never wants to let it go"

His hips don't falter, every ridge and vein of his thick length dragging along your fluttering walls, your pussy seemingly molding itself to his shape. He was right: it was like your body was made for his, like you had been created just to take his cock and milk it for all it was worth.

He could feel it already, his thick cum starting to seep out around his shaft, leaking out of her stuffed hole. Max had marked you, claimed you, in the most primal way possible.

And in a few hours, it was just about to get better.

"You're mine now, little dove" he growls, voice low and possessive as he rolls his hips, grinding against your oversensitive clit, making you gasp and shudder beneath him. "This cunt belongs to me now, you hear me? No one else gets to touch it, gets to fucking have it" he lets out a dark chuckle, "or I'll kill them"

The dark shadow over his eyes tells you he isn't joking at all.

His cock throbbs inside of you, swelling even thicker. He grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he fought to hold back, to make this moment last.

Your eyes are dangerously close to shutting off, the overestimulation reducing you to a panting and blabbering mess.

"No, y/n. You look at me" he commands, voice in a low, dominant bark. "You fucking look at me when I cum, little dove, so you see how good you make me feel as I paint your tight little walls white"

And then, with a loud roar, he brutally slams into you with a final thrust, burying himself to the hilt as his cock pumps thick, hot ropes of cum out of him, filling you up until he could see your belly swell slightly with the sheer volume of his release.

He throws his head back, pointy teeth sinking into his lips to muffle screams as he rutts in you, grinding against your cervix, making sure every last drop of his seed was pumped deep into your womb. His body shudders with the power of his climax, and soon, your boss' body is collapsing over yours.

"Fuck" he pants, looking at how the marks had started to heal. The one on your neck, thought... It's coloring just right. Soon, you'll be by his side. Forever. "I guess that sums another point for me"

He looks up his window, seeing right Evan on the other side, panting in shock.

"And zero for you"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif (unknown pinterest source)

[guiltyasdave]

the pedrolympics

daphne @sizzlingcloudmentality and i are spending our days watching the olympic games and we got to thinking… which sports would the pedro boys compete in? (there might have also been tequila involved in the decision making)

pre outbreak joel - football (…soccer) because of sarah

post outbreak joel - shooting, for obvious reasons

tim rockford - rowing, that’s where the obscenely broad shoulders come from

marcus acacius - triathlon, because swimming in the seine would add to the grime so nicely

max phillips - swimming, because it seems like the fuckboy thing to do

marcus pike - table tennis, self explanatory

lucien flores - surfing, it’s the flowing shirt and the soft beach waves

frankie morales - wrestling. just picture it

ezra - canoe slalom, in the paralympics

marcus moreno - decathlon, because he can do everything

dave york - tennis. daphne mentioned the grunts and moans we’d get to hear. jana died.

agent whiskey - eventing. riding horses so we can ride the cowboy

javier peña - beach volleyball, in tiny shorts

javi gutierrez - artistic swimming, he’s got the moves for sure and picture him in a swimming cap 🥹

pero tovar - judo, he knows how to use his hands and body

oberyn martell - diving & gymnastics, because he’s a show off that can do both. also the shoulders

maxwell lord - fencing, rich people sport but cooler than golfing

din djarin - rugby. the thighs. he can run. he can jump. he has experience in holding onto a green baby shaped like a rugby ball.

dio morrissey - skateboarding, wearing all black

comandante veracruz - sport climbing. also hosts knife throwing competitions in the olympic village.

clint - boxing. again, just look at him

reed richards - golfing. he’s a distinguished gentleman okay. could also be accused of cheating in most other sports

unnamed materialists sugar daddy - dressage, he knows how to make you… stay in line (we don’t know what’s wrong with us)

dieter bravo - manages the team’s social media account. he’s a star on tiktok

let us know your takes! 🫶🏻

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Your Vampire: Chapter One

Fit as a Fiddle

(Max Phillips x f!reader)

Words: 1, 197

Summary: after being dumped by your fiancé, your friend and boss, Max Phillips comes to your rescue. You know his biggest secret…

Warnings: medical procedures mentioned, the worst ex in the world, mild swearing, lots of crying, no y/n, reader has nickname Garland

Check out masterlist here

“We need to talk.” That was what he said before you went into surgery.

It was hard to hear over the fog of anaesthesia lifting away. It was almost like floating underwater, but it wasn’t hard to understand what he was saying.

Yesterday, you were somewhat happily engaged to Jacob with plans to potentially start planning a wedding in the somewhat distant future. Now you didn’t even have a ring on your finger. The crushing pain creeping up your chest was worse than the pain from the surgery was going to be.

Then in walked your boss, Max Phillips with his three-piece suit and a bouquet of flowers.

“Hey Garland, how was surgery?”

You promptly burst into tears.

“He dumped me?”

“He what?”

“He dumped me!” you wailed. “I thought I was imagining it from the drugs wearing off but no, he definitely dumped me. Left a note just to confirm it and took my ring!”

“Did he dump you because you got cancer?”

“He didn’t exactly put it in those words but yes.”

“I always knew he was a prick but damn, that was a serious dick move.”

A fresh wave of tears started running down your face. Max started to hand you his handkerchief but realised the amount of tears and snot protruding from your face so he rethought his strategy. He handed you a nearby box of tissues.

“And I’ve got nowhere to go!” you said after blowing your nose.

“You don’t?”

“I won’t be living with Jacob anymore so now I’m technically homeless. I’ve just had surgery, and I’ve got nowhere to go.”

“Well my dear, I happen to be the solution to all your problems!” you looked up at him in confusion. “I happen to have a spare room.”

You felt like the Wicked Witch of the East in that a house fell on you. So you began to think of your next logical move. Being logical helped in situations where you didn’t want to drown in emotions.

But this only left you numb. You barely remember the change in location. Everything was too much of a blur to notice anything. The only thing you remember is ending up on a couch that must belong to Max watching the screen of what must be Max’s TV. Unsure of what you were watching, but the colours and movement distracted you enough from yourself. If left alone with your thoughts, you would fall into the depth of a sadness so dark, no light would pierce it. Also, you ran out of tissues.

Max noticed this and proceeded to help you out of this darkness.

“I’ve had a very nice bed made up for you. Are you just going to lie there like an adorable couch potato?”

You mumbled something resembling a yes.

Max sighed, unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat on the coffee table so he could face you from your bundle of blankets.

“Seeing as you’re going to wallow in your own misery, you won’t object to what I’m going to say: that pathetic excuse of a human being you call your ex-boyfriend is possibly the biggest prick in the known world. He’s as self-centred as the sun but actually nothing revolves around him. Any objections so far?”

You said nothing so he continued.

“I really should have made a PowerPoint but if it weren’t for you, he would have no chance at a promotion.”

You mumbled something and he leaned in to hear you repeat, “I knew he’d be up for promotion.”

“Well he’s only up for consideration for potential promotion. He made the wrong move in dumping you.”

“I hope it hits him in the face how much he’s messed up,” you said with more conviction.

“There we go! There’s the Garland I used to know. Now come, I have some therapy for you.”

Wrapping the blanket around yourself, you followed Max to see what he had hanging from the spiral staircase.

“You just happen to have a punching bag with Jacob’s face on?”

“Doesn’t everyone have one?” You rolled your eyes as he handed you a bat. Nodding his head towards the punching bag, he said. “Come on, you know you want to.”

You started off just poking the punching bag, it didn’t move. Then you gave it a small whack. That small whack released a tiny bit of anger in you, and it felt good. You gave it another whack. But your stitches were preventing you from releasing your maximum fury, so you put your rage on the photo. You ripped it off the punching bag and continued ripping it.

Max let out an impressed whistle as you ripped the photo with your teeth.

“Bloodthirsty, I like it. Feel better?” he asked.

You spat out the paper, “I’m hungry now.”

“Good, what do you feel like?”

“I have no idea.”

“I’ll heat you up some soup.”

“I’m starving.”

One serving of good food later, you felt somewhat normal. As normal as you could be after surgery and then being dumped by your fiancé post-surgery. The hour suggested it was time for bed, so Max led you to where he assigned your bedroom.

“Really? A four-poster bed?”

“Hey, it’s romantically classy.”

“What type of bed do you have?”

He put a hand on your shoulder, “You need some rest, my dear.”

You were too tired to realise he was avoiding the question. It was actual needing a good night’s rest tiredness, not the drifting through life tiredness. Before you felt like a ghost drifting through existence but now you felt almost human again. Almost like yourself again.

You woke up feeling refreshed and happy. But then the pain across your abdomen reminded you of your current life situation. Instead of burrowing under the high-quality bedding, you got out of bed. It was the first step to recovery.

You took the first proper look at your surroundings. The bedroom you came out of seemed to be the only room that offered any privacy. The rest of the house was open plan. The high ceilings hinted the building was much older than its modern furnishings. A spiral staircase led up to a small loft, but you didn’t need to climb up to know this was not where Max slumbered. The only other option was the only other door. You found it led to the basement. You didn’t feel the coldness of the stone steps in your fluffy sock covered feet.

As you slowly descended, you took note of the stonework mixed with modern patchwork to fill in the holes. A solid glass floor preserved the stone floor giving off a peaceful but ominous feeling.

The basement looked like a typical basement for a typical business guy. The gym equipment was so typical it was funny. What wasn’t typical or normal in any way was the door in the floor.

It didn’t look like a trapdoor, just an odd quirk made by the architect. As you pondered the strange design, the door opened.

Out emerged Max Phillips as if from a slumber.

The two of you stared at each other for an awkward moment.

“So, I’m a vampire,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.”

Lovingly tagging @chaithetics @cevans-is-classic @galaxyedging @letsgobarbs @peepawispunk @missladym1981 @kirsteng42 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @ericamarie093 @yorksgirl

Next

[absurdthirst]

YESSSSSSS

Headcanons for when the Pedro boys come home after a long trip and find out that reader has put on some weight? (Whiskey and Frankie are usually my favorites in these things 💖🥺🌸)

Coming Home To Find Out That You've Put On Weight:

**Female Reader

Javier Peña: He's not going to mention it. He's not stupid. He can tell you are a bit nervous, you tug your shirt down over the extra curves that you aren't happy with and you hesitate to get naked when he is trying to strip you down. He showers your neck and lips with extra kisses, pressing his aching cock against your soft stomach and growls that he has missed you and needs to be inside you. Gonna go a little harder with you though, more cushion for the pushing is the saying, right?

Ezra: Delighted. You haven't been living off bits bars and meager rations. Maybe a little greedy for the fact that he might get better meals than what he had been having since being away from you. Plus he is of the opinion that every form is beautiful; fat, thin, tall, short, it doesn't matter. Your cunt is still hot and clutches around him like a glove and in your arms, he finds the solace he craves.

Mando: Mando yearns for softness. Everything in his life is hard, unyielding. His armor, his creed, even his cot is hard as a rock. So when he comes back to the covert to find that you are softer, he loves it. You can't see his express, because the room is pitch black, but you can feel the eagerness of his touch. The moans even louder when he squeezes parts of you that are a little fleshier than before. It might be the quickest he's ever finished.

Frankie Morales: See, Frankie loves a thicker girl. Those thighs you hate? He loves them. They are soft and cushiony, a perfect place for him to lay his head down on while pretending to watch tv with you. He always falls asleep. That pooch over your pussy? Fucking loves it, constantly touching it. So when he was deployed for eight months and he came home to find that you had put on a little weight, it didn't bother him at all. He was still going to strip you down as soon as the kids were taking and nap and explore ever soft curve you have with glee and exhaust himself and you.

Pero Tovar: Another man who does not mind if your waist grows thicker or your body is softer. Pero loves it. It shows that you did not starve while he was away, a constant source of guilt and worry for him. He had left you enough coins to last and you had obviously been successful in your gardens and trapping animals like he had hoped. The weight you have added might have made you have to let our your dresses, but your tits are also bigger, so it's extra fun for Pero.

Max Phillips: Whistles when he sees you. For a moment, he thinks about making a sarcastic comment about the weight gain, but he can see that you are actually self conscious. Max might be an egotistical, vain prick, but he's not cruel to you. You are still sexy to him. "There's my little blood bag." He hums, sweeping you into his arms and kissing you before smelling your pulse. "You look good enough to eat." He growls playfully, even though you both know that he will feed off of you when he is done making you scream his name.

Agent Whiskey: Listen, this man can throw a grown ass man around with a whip, you think you gaining some weight is going to take the fun out of the rodeo? He doesn't give a shit what the number on the scale says, as long as you still ride his mustache and his cock, Jack Daniels will be a happy man. Plus, he likes the extra jiggle.

Marcus Pike: Understands completely. He's been talking to you on the phone, knows that you have been doing the quick and easy dinners and snacking more - he has too. He doesn't mind the extra weight, as long as you don't. If you complain about it, he will offer to go for walks at night when he gets home or go with you to the gym in the mornings before work. If you don't say a word, this man will just happily love you as you are.

Oberyn Martell: Immediately asks if you are carrying a child. He has been gone for two months and when he finds that there is weight on your stomach, he is smiling as he caresses your skin, hoping for another child. The only way this man is disappointed is when you tell him that you have had your bleeding consistently while he was away. Then he will pout. But only because there is not another Sand Snake on the way. Then he will just get busy making that happen.

Dave York: He's getting older and the fucking weight just doesn't come off like it used too. He hates running, unless he absolutely must, so it doesn't bother him. Not really. Does he have the stray thought that you weigh a little more when you're riding him? Yeah, but he knows better than to say that shit out loud.

Zach Wellison: Doesn't say a word. He notices, but it's not his place to say anything. He's been gone, and you've been doing everything yourself. He just kisses you and asks how you have been while he's been gone.

Dieter Bravo: Doesn't really recognize you put on weight. He's just happy you are still here when he gets home, and you want to fuck him. He's greedy and needy in bed all at the same time, but after the deed is over, he's soooooo comfortable cuddling into you that he calls you his new pillow and drifts off to sleep with a smile on his face.

Javi Gutierrez: He notices. He notices everything about you. It doesn't matter to him. You are still perfect. You are still the woman he adores. Coming back from filming his latest screenplay is a relief and he is over the moon to be reunited with you. His love for you is pure and real, it's not even going to matter if you gained weight to him. He just has more of you to love.

Max Lord: Max is one who loves appearances, so this is something that you worry yourself sick over. The 80s is a time where everyone wants to be supermodel thin and gaining weight is heavily frowned upon. So you are a wreck when Max comes home from the super secret trip that he had taken. Only to find that he is completely unaware that anything has changed. He's too focused on being successful.

Marcus Moreno: Doesn't care. Are you healthy? Are you happy? If not, then he will help you however you need. If you are, then he is happy. He loves you and completely understands that bodies change over time. He's not wearing the same size Heroic's tac vest he was a few years ago, and it's not because he's gotten smaller. He's still gonna find you irresistible and slap your ass when he walks by you in the kitchen every morning. Maybe even more so now.

Tim Rockford: All the evidence points to the new flavor of cookie you've discovered. It's a good cookie. Tim is just happy to be home, that case took way too long to solve and he just wants to curl around your thicker frame after he's made you cum and sleep for a week. He doesn't care about weight, he's home and the case is solved.

Joel Miller: Doesn't bother him a damn bit. You still fit into your clothes, although they are tighter. Joel cares about you, not what size you are. There are more important things to worry about as long as you are healthy.

Marcus Acacius: It's been two years since he has seen your face. The memory of your last kiss, the last time he made love to you, has carried him through the campaign that had taken so many Roman soldiers. You look gorgeous to his weary eyes, a safe harbor to take shelter in. The plumpness of your new body does not take away from the way he needs you. This is a man who is just happy to have come back home to you.

[jolapeno]

DEAR-UARY MASTERLIST 💌

please find the epistolary writing challenge masterlist what is epistolary? epistolary refers to works of fiction that are written in the form of letters or other documents.

list will be updated as fics come in and are reblogged by me. if you think I've missed you, drop me a kind inbox message and I'll be sure to check my mentions (tumblr can be a glitchy machine)

Wrong Number by @inept-the-magnificent | wc: 1,497 

Dieter Bravo x f!Reader A character sends a flirty text, but they accidentally send it to their colleague/boss or a wrong number. 

Say Something by @galway-girlatwork | wc: 1,887

Din and Eve (Original Female Character) Eve’s career has always taken a back seat to Din’s. The goal was always she would start working more on her music when he graduated law school and worked for one year at a law firm. Now both of their careers are taking off but where she’s always been there for him, Eve is finding that Din isn’t always there for her.

Epistolae by @cxrsed-angel | wc: 3k

Marcus A x f!Reader After two months of not hearing back from your husband while he's fighting a war, you worry about him and fear that he he may not be coming back to you alive, you re-read his previous letters as an attempt to calm your anxieties.

Between The Pages by @wordywarriorwrites | wc: 1k

Joel Miller x F! Reader AU A photograph brings you back together.

In Vino Veritas by @yxtkiwiyxt | wc: 4.5k

Dave York x f!Reader You start interviewing candidates to find your replacement. As you go through the process, you stumble upon a surprising discovery that pulls you back into Dave's darker world, complicating your feelings for him — yet again.

What's a TomDaya by @604to647 | wc: 14 screenshots

Modern!Pero Tovar x fem!reader Pero regrets getting into a group chat with your friends.

Letters Across Time by @pedroscurls | wc: 9.4k

Marcus Acacius x fem!Reader After having moved to rome for a fresh new start, you begin to receive letters from an unlikely stranger that you begin to develop feelings for... only to come to the heartbreaking realization that the two of you may never meet.

About Last Night by @sunshinehaze1 | wc: 1,744

Dieter Bravo x f!reader You met The Dieter Bravo last night, but does he remember meeting you?

Close Up by @milla-frenchy | wc: 8k7

Joel Miller x fem reader Joel receives a script that takes him back to the memories of your love story. He realizes that out of protective instinct after the break up, he has not been honest neither with his own feelings nor with you

How Could You Love Someone Like Me by @itwasntimethatdidit40 | wc: 3k

Javier Peña x F!Reader Javi is under protection and has asked you to join him in the hotel room where he is confined. When you discover his secrets and lies, however, that room will become too small. Too small for both of you.

What's For Dinner by @bergamote-catsandbooks | wc: 1,450

Joel Miller x F!reader A seemingly mundane list of reminders left for one another evolves into something much more heartfelt

More Than Friends by @jennaispunk | wc: 3.5k

Frankie Morales x F!Reader Some time away from your best friend forces you to confront your feelings.

Sounds Dangerous by @almostfoxglove | wc: 2.6k

Max Phillips x f!Reader When you reply to a bizarre craigslist ad, a stranger on the other side of the country charms his way into your life.

Something Sweet by @jeewrites | wc: 2.2k

Marcus Pike x f!reader Character A keeps finding X and tracks them back to B, who might be leaving them intentionally — or not.

What Does A Loveless World Look Like? by @ananonymousaffair | wc: 823

Joel Miller A character receives an anonymous letter that seems to know too much about their past.

Training Days by @604to647 | wc: 4.6k

Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader Detective Rockford leaves for a weeklong tactical training course and you miss him something fierce.

While We Were Texting by @sawymredfox | wc: 2,900

Tim Rockford x fem able-bodied reader Help and surprises come from unexpected places.

Reincarnated by @joelmillerisapunk | wc: 4.5k

Joel Miller x F!Reader A late-night text from an unknown number stirs up memories you thought you’d buried. It’s been years since Joel walked out of your life, but now he’s back. Old wounds resurface, boundaries blur, and the question lingers: is this a second chance or just another heartbreak waiting to happen?

Post-It Note Pursuit by @iknowisoundcrazy | wc: 1.3k

Javier Peña x reader Someone in the office has been leaving you post-it notes.

Letters to Little Wren by @schnarfer | wc: 1,300

Wild West Priest Ezra x f!reader Letters from Wild West Priest Ezra to his little wren, while he searches for Damon & prospects for gold.

Golden Girl Texts by @whocaresstillthelouvre | Screenshots

Dieter Bravo x OC!Female The texts start from when Warren & GG get engaged and end at Dieter leaving for London at the end of So It Goes.

I Took The Good Times, I'll Take the Bad Times by @staticscreenwriting | wc: 3k?

Joel Miller x F!reader (Y/N) Joel doesn't think he's deserving of love after all he did and all he went trough. Or maybe he's just scared. Either way he can't let himself fall for (Y/N). Now if only she'd stop sending him those damn postcards.

Linger by @pedgito | wc: 7k

Joel Miller x F!Reader Your postcards become a personal journal during patrols with Joel.

naiveté by @lillaydee | wc: 3.2k

Joel Miller x f!reader Joel listened to a podcast for the first time, one that opened his eyes.

dagger by @the-blind-assassin-12 | wc: 12.8k

ezra x reader Ezra had told Cee quite a lot about you - that the two of you had been partners, lovers, that you'd been separated by the currents of fate - enough for her to know that he was still, even 12 years later, deeply in love with you.

first sight by @gothcsz | wc: 3.5k

frankie m x f!reader Two strangers discover they’ve been swapping movies through a communal space, each leaving a note in return until curiosity forces a meeting.

paper rings by @guiltyasdave | 1.7k

modern!oberyn martell x f!reader after two months with oberyn, you're not sure if his feelings are as strong as yours.

wash & fold by @ak-vintage | 15.5k

ezra x f!reader After discovering some unfamiliar clothes in your laundry (and losing some of your own in return), you begin exchanging messages with another resident in your apartment complex.

I call it walking by @pascalispretty | 1.8k

javi g x f!reader. It feels like fate that you find his letters. But sometimes, fate needs a little nudge.

[baronessvonglitter]

Forever’s Gonna Start Tonight

Max Phillips x gn!reader | WC: 1.7K

Summary: When your vampire boyfriend Max Phillips agrees to turn you, you enjoy one last day as a mortal.

WARNINGS: Rated T, reader is gender neutral, established relationship, some kissing and fluff (as fluffy as Max can get), mentions of vampirism and ways a vampire can be hurt/injured, mentions of blood drinking, one mention of "intimacy" but is not detailed, no gore, mentions of eating food, reader wears a hoodie but is otherwise not described, use of hypnotism, mentions of being bitten, no use of y/n.

Author's Note: This work is for the jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge 🧡 I chose Max Phillips and apple picking 🍎

I'd kept this idea on the very, very back burner because honestly I love the mythology about vampires, and I wanted a soft!Max story, just to shake things up, and this fic challenge helped kickstart that idea into motion. There was absolutely zero information on our guy Max, so I just kind of messed with the lore and added some good ol' vampire myths just for fun 😊 Also, "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was meant to be a vampire love song, hence the title I used 🖤 (Side note: if you don't already squeeze lemon on your apple slices I highly suggest it. It keeps them from turning brown and gives them a little sour bite if you don't like them too sweet)

Thank you to @jolapeno and @goodwithcheese for hosting this lovely challenge!

divider by @strangergraphics👑

Honestly, you made your choice two seconds after Max told you he was a vampire. There were no two ways about it: if he was one, you wanted to be one too.

"Honey.. you need to think about this seriously. It's not some knee-jerk decision. We're talking about the rest of your life.. or afterlife.. unlife?.. that's at stake here."

"You'll outlive me one day," you reminded him. "I don't want that to happen." You snuggled against him, feeling how warm he was, though now that he'd revealed his secret, you started to feel the cold that seeped through his skin, was ever-present in the physiology that still made him a human male, but also something else.. some preternatural creature that was just under the surface. Hiding.. or suppressed.

"I try not to think about that. I haven't been undead that long," he admitted. "Can't we be happy with what we have now?"

It stung, but you tried not to take it too personally. Max was the type to say whatever thought flitted across his brain, be it snarky or sweet, though around others it typically tended towards the former.

From then on, once he knew you would keep his secret, once he put that trust in you that he didn't place in anyone else, you had so many (too many) questions to ask, and Max was as open as he could be regarding your curiosity. Yes, he could walk around in the daytime, but it was a necessity to slather himself in the highest grade SPF that he could only purchase online from a small business in Romania and cost ten times as much as you made in an hour at your job. And it explained why he always had a scent of coconuts beneath the layer of Tom Ford cologne he practically bathed in.

There were some things that could kill him, primarily a stake through the heart. Garlic and holy water made his eyes water and skin burn, temporarily subduing his powers, and you understood why he dissuaded you from eating Italian food when you started dating.

Speaking of the powers (and that was a huge point of curiosity for you), he had strength, speed, hypnosis (although he preferred the term 'powers of persuasion' -- ever the salesman, that one.) Drinking blood powered him, made him strong, and he managed to drink a little to get him through the day, only succumbing to his deeper cravings after hours.

It was this part he didn't want to talk about. He didn't like you thinking of him prowling after his prey, planning his attack, taking what he needed from unsuspecting victims. He'd drunk from you during moments of intimacy, the small, sweet sting of his fangs was something you'd come to like, but you knew it had to be different for those he hunted. You could paint your own picture of such a scenario-- you'd seen enough movies and read enough Anne Rice and Charlaine Harris to put the pieces together of how he had to survive in the shadows.

If anything, it only further endeared him to you.

But when you'd try to press the issue all he did was sidestep it.. at first. When you were persistent he was firm, telling you in no uncertain terms, "No."

"Do you not think I have what it takes?" you'd asked.

"Babe, I don't doubt your ability--"

"Do you just want to keep all your vampiric secrets to yourself?"

He'd sputtered out a laugh despite trying to keep a serious facade. "You're being ridiculous now."

"Then.." you'd used your puppy dog eyes on him, "you don't love me?"

He'd taken your face in his hands, his gaze insistent. "Don't say that. Ever. Okay?" He'd kissed your forehead, taking in the scent of you, just at your hairline.

You'd been patient, dropping hints until one day you'd stopped, a part of you giving up.

But Max didn't like seeing you unhappy.

"All right, all right," he'd relented one night, during a viewing of American Psycho while hanging out at your place. "If you really want me to turn you, I'll do it."

"Max, you will? Really?" you'd beamed with excitement.

"Yes, sweetheart. If you really want it, I'll do it for you."

You'd pounced on him, kissing him as he pulled you down on the sofa with him, the sounds of Patrick Bateman chasing his victim with a chainsaw playing in the background.

You decide on a date: mid-October, your favorite time of year when the leaves crackle underfoot, and there's the sweet odor of chimney smoke in the air. Max tells you you should spend the last day of your human life doing whatever you want to do, and though it's something small, though it probably ranks low on most people's list of priorities before they begin a new life as a vampire, you tell him you want to go apple picking.

A part of you is relieved that Max doesn't poke fun at you, which he usually does when you tell him you want to watch Dead Poets Society instead of The Wolf of Wall Street, or when you'd rather go on the Ferris wheel than the Zipper with him at the carnival.

You typically play it safe, and he respects your playing it safe with your last day as a mortal, because he loves you.

The apple orchard is an hour and a half away, and Max holds your hand over the center console during the entire drive, letting you choose the radio station, and you spot the small twitch of his eye when you turn up the volume on a Taylor Swift song. He keeps his thoughts to himself but his opinion is written plain on his face. Ever the peacemaker, you switch the radio to an oldies station, listening to Bonnie Tyler belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and even though Max refuses to sing along with you, a smile curves the corners of his pretty mouth as he indulges in your joy.

Upon arrival you jump out before the car is even in park, and are greeted with the scent of the sweet and crisp fragrance of the orchard. The skies above are pale blue, tinged with gold from the late afternoon sun's delicate rays. Grey threatens in the corners of the firmament, and you recall checking your phone's weather app and seeing there would be rain that night. You've come on the right day.

Max grabs your hand as you join the others in line, some families with young kids, some couples, and when he's not expecting it you plant a soft kiss on his cheek. Not typically one for PDA, he one-ups you by taking you in his arms and practically bending you backward in a passionate display of romance, lips claiming yours. "My baby doesn't deserve to wait in line," he whispers, and with a devilish grin he pulls you to the front of the line where the cashier is taking payment.

"We don't need to pay," Max tells her, and from the look in the woman's eyes you can tell he's mesmerizing her with his powers.

"You don't need to pay," she repeats in a monotone, handing over a wicker basket for you to collect the apples.

Max smiles at her charmingly, pulling you along as you enter the apple orchard.

There's a chill in the air as you walk into the wide expanse of land, the green of the apple trees and the ruby fruit of their production providing the perfect backdrop for your date. You cross your arms over your hoodie just as Max puts his arm around you.

"I'll never get cold, just like you," you wonder aloud, thinking ahead to your immortal life.

"Right. One of the perks," he grins. He's wearing a dark grey nylon bomber jacket, hair perfectly coiffed, and even though other people are checking him out as you walk by, he only has eyes for you. "You'll never grow old, either. You'll still be hot. Like me," he grins.

"Which ones look good?" he asks, directing your view to the apples red and ripe, swelling with sweetness, their tangy aroma dancing in the air.

You look up and select a few, holding each one in the palm of your hand before twisting the stem off and placing it in the basket looped around your arm. Max watches you, in awe of your thought process, and the careful way in which you make your selections. When the basket gets too heavy he carries it for you.

"Are you going to eat all of these tonight?" he hides a smile.

"Don't underestimate me," you tell him. "I might just do that."

He envisions what your blood will taste like later, at the time of your turning: bitter with hints of spice and sweet, the flavor inhabiting every blood vessel, flooding into his mouth as he begins the process of forever changing you.

Soon the basket is brimming over with sweet, tart apples. Some of them fall out of the basket on the walk back to the car, leaving a scarlet dotted trail behind you.

At home, you gorge yourself on the crisp flesh of your fresh-picked apples in all your favorite forms: sliced plain with a drizzle of lemon juice, some dipped in caramel, others covered in crunchy red candy. Your lips are sticky and sweet when Max kisses you, savoring the warmth of your skin that, come tomorrow, will be colder, room temperature at best, but still soft, still delicious.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his eyes glinting, irises blown full black, like a shark detecting blood in the water around him. You're settled on the sofa, hands linked, fingers intertwined as your heart races. Max senses it and his tongue flicks out across his pink lips.

"Yes," you answer, and for a brief, sweet moment your life flashes before your eyes, a memoriam to all the things you held dear, the good and the awful, the trail of tiny moments, the heartbreaks you thought you'd never heal from, that ultimately led you to Max and the love you uncovered within him as you broke through his egotistical outer shell.

You kept his promise. He knows his trust is well-placed.

As you offer your neck, the last thing you see before you close your eyes is the Castlevania poster Max gave you for Christmas last year, hanging on the wall above the sofa.

Only the death matters now..

You hear the click of his fangs protracting. Soon you'll be just like him. You have no regrets.

"Thank you, Max," you whisper before you feel the hot sting of his bite on your tender throat. "Thank you for the best day of my life."

[cxrsed-angel]

Scotty Doesnt Know| Max Phillips x Fem!Reader (smut)

summary: your max’s secretary/assistant who been helping him in more ways than one, behind your boyfriend’s back.

wc: 3k

Warnings: boss/employee power dynamic, cheating. workplace/office sex (unprotected p in v), mention of blood and blood sucking, side-effects of losing blood.

a/n: a max phillip fic based on Scotty Doesn’t Know by Lustra, this is for @chaotic-mystery’s wired for you and birthday celebration (happy birthday!!) first time watching this movie and writing for him.

"Yes, yes, we've managed to increase sales by 10% more than last month under my management. I aimed for more, but we may have to change our current employee situation and let a few slow ones go." 

You listen to Max on the phone as you take him further into your mouth, sucking his cock. His hand press onto the back of your head as he talks unbothered, like you don't currently have his cock down your throat. You feel him push down more onto your head, forcing you to take him even deeper, making your eyes water as you choke around his dick, your nose against the brown hairs at the base of it. He lets out a soft groan. Your eyes flutter up to see Max leaning back on the black office chair, eyes closed, breathing heavily, and pretending to listen to his boss on the phone as his hand continues to move your head up and down his shaft. You hollow out your mouth as your head bobs up and down on his shaft. You're unsure how much of the lewd blowjob sounds the office phone is picking up, hoping, being under his desk, muffled most of it. 

You have been sleeping with your boss for 3 months now. It started when you two were working alone one night, going over the finance, and you were "helping him" when you really didn't know shit about the finances. You left to get a coffee from the break room when Max joined you in the empty break room and fucked on the break room couch. You swore it was a one-time thing and wouldn't happen again. Then he ate you out on his desk, and it continued from then behind your boyfriend and coworker's, Scotty, back. It was going on three months of fucking your boss, you do plan on breaking up with Scott. Eventually. The right time just never came. 

"Of course, sir, we're-"his soft groan cuts himself off. "Sorry, we definitely do have some very dedicated and talented employees here." he looks down at you as he speaks slowly, moving, giving you a wink. He lets you come off his cock, letting you take a minute to breathe. You feel his hand come to your lips, gently wiping the spit from them with his thumb.

"Okay, sir. I'll talk to you another time. Bye. " He hangs up the black phone and looks down at you, giving you a small smile as he runs his thumb over your lips. 

"Now, back to actually important things." You move your hand around his shaft, jerking him off. You look up at your boss smiling before putting his cock back into your mouth, making Max moan. 

"Should add this to your performance review. Amazing and motivating oral skill." Max teases, making you laugh, taking him out of your mouth, and shaking your head at him. "You're ridiculous. You're lucky they didn't have the budget to buy those cameras Ted wanted." Max's hand lighting grabs your hands, making you stand up.  "Don't want to make a sex tape with me? I'm offended, I have the perfect title, "Boss Bangs Hot Employee." We could do it in the break room. I've seen that's a pretty popular place for office sex tapes." You laugh again, shaking your head at him. 

"Of course you have." You feel him slowly guiding you to his desk, and you automatically bend over it. He slides his hand under your skirt, grabbing your ass over your pantyhose. You hear a small rip before you feel the fabric of your tights rip, exposing your black lace thong.  "I'm running out of pantyhose I can wear to work, Max! "Do you have to rip all of them?" You complain as he continues squeezing your ass for a little longer until he presses himself against you. You feel his bulge through his black pants, poking your ass. 

"You can still wear them. No one will know, and it'll give me easy access. But I'll buy you more relax." He moves your hips, making you grind against him. "Speaking about that, I've been getting a lot of complaints about your attire piling up on my desk, baby girl." You move your ass over his pants. He pulls your thong down to your thighs. Moving his thumb against your clit slowly as he mentions your hr complaints. You let out a moan as you lean forward against his desk, spreading your legs and giving him better access to your wet core.

You have been testing the bounds of the office dress code lately, coming in with your short mini skirt, a few unbuttoned button-ups, and low-cut blouses.

"Have you really? Huh. Wouldn't know why?" You play dumb as he slowly turns you around, gently pushing you down until you sit on his wooden desk. He runs his hands up your stomach before unbuttoning your white blouse, exposing the matching lace bra to your lace black thong. Max's hands run over your tits, squeezing and groping them. He reaches to the back of the claps on your bra, takes it off, and tosses it over some files on his desk. 

"You don't, huh? Well, we've gotten a few about these small skirts almost flashing the other employees when you bend over to put paper in the printer or distracting them as you lean over at your desk reaching for a pen, and these pretty tits almost spill out." You let out a small moan as he pinches your nipples, twisting them a bit and enunciating his point. 

"You're lucky H.R. has to go through me to fire you, or they would've let you months ago, sweetheart." He turns you around, bending you over his desk, his hand on the small of your back. You hear his belt unbuckling as he pulls his cock out, not bothering to take his pants off. He runs his fingers down your wet folds. 

"Maaaxxx" you whine pressing yourself against him, desperate for him to fuck you. He laughs, mocking you as he plants a smack against your ass.  "So bratty. If you want something sweetheart, you're gonna have to use your words. Or is that mouth only good for sucking my cock, huh?" He spanks you again, 

"Please fuck me." It comes out low, barely audible, and you already knew he wasn't going to accept it.

You're only met with another spank on your ass harder than the last one, stinging, making you moan louder. 

"Please, please fuck me, Max." You beg louder, hoping it was enough for him to get you what I want. 

"Thats better, baby. Bet you don't beg Scott this badly to fuck you huh?" He slides his thick cock inside you, drawing out a moan from you. 

"Aw, fuck baby you feel so fucking good baby." Max holds your hips, stretching your out on his cock filling you up; you moan as his large hands spread your ass, sliding out till it is just his tip, before slamming back inside you. 

He was right. You didn't beg Scotty to fuck; Scotty barely fucks you. It's more like four sloppy thrusts in you, then finishes and rolling off of you. Mutters something like "youre the best", or "love you." Then he'd lazily kiss your cheek and lay down and go to sleep. Leaving you there in bed, horny and frustrated. You can't remember the last time your orgasm didn't come from your rabbit vibrator or your dildo. Until Max. The first time he ate you out on his desk you came so hard, seeing stars, leaving a mess all over the papers on his desk and he still fucked you. Max gives you orgasm after orgasm. On his desk, over his desk, in his office chair, in the breakroom. He'd try to convince you to fuck at the other cubicles, especially Scotty's just to fuck with him but you refused. You know it's wrong, but you couldn't give him up. Maybe it's part of his vampiric powers having a hold on you, controlling your mind. Or maybe it was just you, being unable to resist him. 

He thrusts, fucking you from behind, are you bend over his desk, his files pushed to opposite sides of it leaving room for your body ininto you against the wooden desk, the way you needed, the way you boyfriend never does. You feel him deep as he runs his hands over your lower back

"Look at how good you take it, baby. This pussy belongs to me know huh, poor scotty doesn't even know it." You nod gripping his desk, pushing your hips back against his cock, as you moan his name loudly, taken advantage of being the only people in the office.

"Fuck Max! It's yours. It belongs to yous." you cry moaning as he fucks you

"Damn right about that baby. Fuck." he groans, gripping your hips tighter. 

Suddenly intercepting the sounds of moans and skin slapping together, your phone goes off, ringing from the where you left it on Max's desk before you got on your knees to suck him off. You don't even hear at first, not until Max stops fucking you. You sit up, reaching for it while Max remains still balls deep inside you. You look at the incoming call screen glowing as it buzzes off the wooden desk. 

Incoming Call: Scotty 

You look at your boyfriend's name as it rings. You're about to decline when Max reaches and takes it out of your hand, looking to see who it was. 

"Damn… not even boyfriend…or any heart emojis baby? Harsh." Max taunts before holding it up to your ear as he accepts it. Your eyes widen, speechless, not expecting him to answer it. You hear Scotty's voice over the phone, still feeling Max's cock inside you.  "H-Hello?" you answer as max continues fucking you holding your hips

"Hey, are you still working?" You pull the phone away from your mouth as a few moans slip out before placing it back. 

"Yea…yes, um, I'm going over some spreadsheets and all that, um….you know Max really-fuck um- really hates me being on the phone when I'm on the clock." You try to compose yourself enough to not sound like you're getting your back blown out by your boss. You hear him talking about something or another, and you can't really focus. You move the phone away from your face again, turning back to Max, silently asking him to stop, at least until you hang up. Max smirk,s smiling as he slowly pulls out. You assume he's heard your silent plea and try to stand up straight when he hands push you down forcing you to stay as he lefts one of your leg up onto his desk, before inserting his cock inside you reaching that spot, to hitch deep inside you. 

"OH MY GOD!" You shout, unable to conceal the moan any better. You flinch remembering who you were on the phone.  S-Scotty is this like life or death because I'm really fucking busy." You say rudely and pointed, your voice filled with annoyance. 

"No, I just wanted to tell you that I'll be home late hanging out with boys tonight." It was strange that the he's planning on getting wasted on a wedesnday night, but in the moment the only think you can think about is Max's cock fucking deep inside you.

You sigh, rolling your eyes, nodding. "Sure, okay. Bye. " You hang up and go to set your phone on his desk when you see Max's hand grab it out of yours. He turns it off before slipping it into his pant pocket.

"Am I gonna have to start confiscating this thing, huh, baby? You know, hate when you're on your phone in the office." Max's voice going into your head, his condescing tone making you wetter, as he continues fucking you gripping your hips tightly. 

You leave your desk near Max's office and walk over to the break room when your boyfriend Scotty comes up to you. He's actually the one who told you about the company as an intern, intending on getting a promotion to sales manager. The two of you would work your way up like a real corporate power couple. Of course, that was until max. 

"Hey, I was thinking about going out again tonight. I'll probably be home late. But you've been working so late, too," he says, gently rubbing your arm. You nod, smiling a bit, as you hold your empty coffee mug.

"Yea, well, you know how Max is," you say vaguely as you look at him. "But can we maybe, um, actually talk about something I want to talk to you about?" You suggest, hoping he agrees, that you really have been planning on breaking up with him but never got the chance or have the right moment. 

Scotty nods, not really paying attention. " Um... sure, not tonight, but maybe tomorrow or something we could—" Before your boyfriend could finish what he was implying, you hear your boss's voice behind you, appearing suddenly out of nowhere, like he often does. 

"Trying to bang your girl on company time, Scott?" He asks in his familiar patronizing and condescending tone, looking at the two of you. A few moments of awkward silence before Max's laugh breaks it. "I'm just messing around. Well, partially, I can't have you getting some during company hours. If I let you two in, I have to let everyone, and we're not really going for a brothel." Max joked, smiling as he looked at Scotty before turning his attention towards you. "Go ahead and get your coffee, then head back to my office. I have calls I need you to make. Thanks, sweetheart."

Max starts to walk away before turning around to you two. " Remember, not on company time." He makes small thrusting motions before shaking his finger and going back to his office.

"Hes such an asshole. can't believe they chose him as our fucking manger." You look at Max as he goes to talk to Linda from marketing a few cubicles down, admiring how hot he is, how gorgeous his side profile is. You didn't even hear Scotty complaining. You finally snap out of it, nodding at whatever your boyfriend had said before mumbling about needing to get back to work. 

You return to Max's office, closing the door behind you, and return to your work in Max's office. 

A few hours later, you're watching the clock, watching as the small hand moves to the 6 while the big is on the 5. Finally, it's 5:30, and everyone is out of the office except you and Max. You look up from your computer, and Max is still on the phone with a different supplier. 

"Who the fuck sell this shit anyway, god why couldn't I be the sales manger of anything else besides stupid shake weights." Max sighs, leaning back in his office chair with his hands over his face. Obviously annoyed and stressed. "Come here."

You walk over and sit on his lap, and he rubs your back before placing his lips on yours, softly kissing you for a moment.

"I skipped my lunch today." Max's finger drags slowly across your chest, unbuttoning the buttons on your black top slowly as he speaks. You wouldn't mind, would you, baby? " You shake your head, tilting your neck for him. Expecting him to sink his fangs into your neck like usually 

"No, not at all," you tell him, but he feels your bra and pulls it down, shocking you a bit. You let out a moan as he leans down, sucking in your nipple. 

"Fuck… Max." You look at the door, making sure no one is still in the office, before looking back at Max as his tongue swirls around your nipples. "I thought you said I was hungry?" 

He nods, lifting his head as he squeezes your tits with his large hand, making you shudder a bit, moaning more. He leans down you see his fang project down as he bites your boob, just about your nipple, right over your heart, sinking them into your skin. You feel him drinking the blood from your chest. Feeling him press his face against your tit deeper. You're frozen, unsure what to do. You take another glance up at the door, making sure no one is there, before looking back down at Max. You hold the back of his head as drips of blood fall down your chest. 

He has drunk your blood before many times. From your arm and your neck, but not from your chest and not while he was squeezing, rolling your other nipple between his fingers. Making you wetter, squeezing your thighs together trying to get some sort of relief from the ache between your thighs.  "Max," you moan, not knowing it would turn you on this much, that you'd enjoy him sucking blood from your boob this much, youre pretty positive he's over an artery from the pain that came once he peirced your skin but your concern is clouded my your arousal. Your eyes close as Max moves his hands under your skirt, sliding his finger underneath your panties. 

"Max" you moan as he rubs his fingers along your folds, never moving his lips from your boob as he continues drinking your plasma, making your eyes roll back closed. He slips his finger inside you thrusting it in and out, for a few enjoying the way your hips roll and buck against his hand until you cum on his fingers, stifling a moan. He drinks more of you as you cum. You feel him remove his hands from between your thighs, then his fangs pull out from your chest. He lifts his head up, wiping your blood from his mouth. You stare into his red eyes, watching them return back to their gorgeous brown color, your chest moving fast as you try to process what just happened. 

Max smiles before pulling you into a deep kiss you return, tasting your blood on his lips. He pulls away, but his hand remains on your neck.  "Did you know you taste sweeter when you cum, you heart rate increasing, more blood pumping, I've heard some other…my friend… say but its different when you experience it." he leans over grabbing a tissues to stop some blood that was starting to spill from your boobs, he holds it applying pressures as he reaching in his office drawer with the other hand taking out a band-aid, he has for the moments after drinking your blood. 

"No-no…no Max, how would I know that…." you say quietly, slowly feeling light-headed. He holds your chin, looking at you closely.  "Sorry about that, baby girl. I probably took a few more pints than I should've. You tasted so…I just got caught in the moment." Max stands up, walking over to his mini fridge, opening it, and grabbing a bottled orange juice he also started keeping in his office. he goes back to you, untwisting the cap off. He slowly brings the bottle to your lips as you drink the orange juice. He holds the bottle still. He sets the bottle on his desk, slowly rubbing your back. 

"Go ahead and go to the break room and take a few of the cookies; the sugar should help." You nod, listening to him, and leave, going to the break to grab a few of those cookies. You open the break room door expecting it to be empty. I mean, it's almost 6. Who else would be here this late? 

You step inside, seeing you boyfriend, fucking another one your coworker against the counter. You freeze for a second. Scotty pulls his head from the neck of your coworker. You don't know what to say. You quietly just grab the plastic box of chocolate chip cookies you came in for. 

"I just needed these, " you say, leaving but turning around and looking back. "Oh, and it's over, by the way." You go back into Max's office, a cookie in your mouth. Still dizzy but at least you don't have to worry about Scotty anymore, you smile popping another cookie in your mouth. 

[kedsandtubesocks]

all the trouble we’ve seen

Max Phillips x Witch!Reader

written for the PPCU x MCR WRITING CHALLENGE | prompt song: You Know What They Do to Guys Like Us in Prison

summary: Max is in trouble, real deep shit after what he did at the office. So what’s gonna happen when you’re stuck baby sitting the most annoying (and handsome) vampire you’ve ever met?

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. Canon divergent AU (Max doesn’t die) enemies to lovers, forced proximity, magical realism, supernatural themes, Bi!Max, imprisonment, blood imagery, death mention & discussion, asshole but kinda sweet!Max, angst angst angst, scent kink, vampire moments with blood drinking, dry humping, smutty themes & heavy smutty implied, use of pet names

word count: 4.1k

a/n: thank you to @sp00kymulderr for hosting this challenge I’m so happy I could participate & I’m incredibly sorry this is getting posted later than expected!! This fic try wouldn’t be here without @perotovar @hauntedhowlett & @pedgito who let me cry/scream & gave me the guidance I need, i love each of you & I owe y’all my life lol and to you, if you decide to read this - know I’m thanking you a million times

The last time you saw Max Phillips was over five years ago, and you had threatened to hex his ass to hell.

You just never thought you’d see him again, especially in the mess he’s in. Though, the horrifying scene before you is almost fitting for Max.

The restaurant had been a mess when you arrived. You almost felt embarrassed. Bullets scattered all across the floor. Blood splattered against the floor. The gunfire had erupted when the cops tried to take Max in only for them to realize their bullets weren’t working.

Now Max sits among the shells with his arms raised up high in surrender. The chaos settles in debris all around. He smirks horrendously coyly when he sees you.

“Thought I smelled you, little witch.” He grins and the glimmer of his fangs shine out.

You simply say nothing, frowning hard and unamused.

Charged with high crimes after changing an entire business into vampires, the warrant had been put out on Max weeks ago. It wasn’t just the supernatural community looking for him, but actual law enforcement. This sleazy vampire just got sloppy at hiding.

Yet Max doesn’t even seem bothered one bit when your kind placed him in the magical chain spell. You always admired him for seemingly cool under pressure unbothered ease.

Until now in the council’s courtroom as the sentence is given and you see a new side of Max.

“Death.” The high magistrate declares cold and unflinching.

You almost choke on an inhale.

Max’s face falls, the first move vivid and true reaction he’s shown this entire time.

Max’s eyes immediately snap to you, and you see it - a flash of crystalized fear.

You don’t even know how to react.

Two guards come and drag him away from the council room.

“Wait! Wait! You can’t fucking do this to me!? Do you even know what they’re gonna do to a guy like me in prison?!” He screams.

It’s all he says before the doors close and he’s gone.

They would send him to die.

The council deemed him too dangerous. Carelessly exposing the supernatural and being so blatantly cocky about it upset them. You just never thought they would be this harsh.

Your body feels numb. You don’t even move out of your seat. A solid hand against your shoulder startles you out of your daze.

The high magistrate stands besides you grinning softly, almost expectant.

“You must be glad he’s finally in custody.” She says.

You couldn’t fully say you were.

“Didn’t expect that verdict.” You truthfully tell her.

She sighs, weary. “The cases made against him were too much, and this last instance of turning so many innocents into vampires is unacceptable.”

You understood that. But death?

“Besides, you out of all of us know how much of a bastard he is.” The magistrate says, and a bitterness bubbles in your mouth.

Now wearily nod.

“Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but the law is the law and he needs to be punished.”

She squeezes your shoulder before drawing you into a solid hug.

“Call me when you get home.”

“Yeah mom, will do.” You sigh, hugging her back.

But you don’t get much sleep that night.

The walk to the dungeon the next day isn’t too far. The sleek business-like building simply melts away once you get past the attendant. Immediately you’re transported into the hollow prison. The cold stone, the stale air, the rumble of ancient dangerous magic, all form an eerie atmosphere.

The ruins on the wall illuminate a path that guides you.

The dungeon, an ever changing landscape, is specifically a holding space before the criminals are arranged for their sentences.

Max’s arm stretches out from the bars before you even see him.

“Was wondering what took you so long to come see me.”

You almost want to turn around and leave. You don’t even know why you came.

But you walk to the front of the jail cell. Even among the bars, Max is so damn handsome it makes you angry.

“So, you come to laugh at me?” He asks, rubbing at his jaw.

You stay silent.

“Can’t even say I look sexy in this jumpsuit. Putrid green and white stripes aren’t my colors.” He scoffs.

You still can’t say anything.

This vampire now begins pacing around his small cell.

His eyes flicker to you sharp.

“Did they tell you about my cellmate? He’s out for lunch right now. But he actually used magic to kill his ex’s wife’s lover. That’s who your fucked up system thinks I’m as bad ass. I didn’t even murder people! I brought them back to life better than before!”

You swallow hard, unable to find your voice still.

It pisses Max off that he rushes to the bars and slams his hands against them. The magic of the barrier against the metal sparks to life, refusing to let him leave.

“Say something, witch!” He snarls your name, and it jolts your heart.

You don’t say anything. You can’t even say why you came. So you turn on your heels and leave.

Max’s laugh, bitter and loud, bounces off the walls and haunts you the entire way home.

He would have a month in a prison hold before the actual sentence came. In that month he would be under the watch of another magic user…

And of course he picks you.

Your mother tried to change the arrangement, but the criminal had the right of choice.

Now you stand in the bleak apartment as Max glances around the place scrutinizing it.

“Couldn’t they have at least set us up in like a Hilton or something? This looks like some shit ass studio college dorm looking place.”

“The little prodigy witch couldn’t even get special treatment, huh?” He sneers at you.

You glare back.

“Why did you even pick me? To what? Just torture me too?” You finally snap.

“Oh of course.” He bows, annoyingly ridiculous and smirking bright. “If I’m going out, I’m taking you with me.”

You storm out of the living room and slam the bathroom to sulk alone.

The small studio apartment was highly protected, a jail cell in its own right. Protective barriers would keep anyone leaving or coming in.

Then the final piece arrives for your month-long confinement.

One of the secondary magistrates comes to place a sigil on Max’s neck. The skin sears with the magic pressing into him, and he even hisses.

“What the fuck, I forgot how awful it is being human.” He mutters almost slurred.

His powers would be completely suppressed now due to the spell. Max is practically human now.

Now it’s just you and him, for one damn month.

“I’m surprised they didn’t leave a coffin here.” You dryly comment.

“Oo, kinky. I knew you had it in you, witch.” Max smiles.

“We should at least fuck, that’s all we might be able to do here. Plus it’d be for old times sake.” Max immediately offers, and you make a disgusted face.

“You haven’t even slept with me!” He argues absolutely upset. “If you do, I’ll make you see why you should’ve back then.”

He smirks, winking at you.

Back then - Romania.

It had been your first big aboard mission, and it was where you first met Max. Still so cocky and smug, you hate how effortlessly he charmed you at that college bar. He constantly purred at how he hadn't seen a witch as cute as you, except how unfortunate it was that witches' blood like yours smelled so bad he couldn’t stay near you long. Then you spotted Max fucking a waitress behind a bar and didn’t want anything to do with him.

Still don’t. So you simply decide to ignore him.

Most days you stay focused on your laptop letting Max talk aimlessly like an annoying podcast host with no listeners.

“You know what’s really evil? Why hasn’t Philadelphia Cream Cheese brought those good strawberry cheesecake snacks from the 90’s? Like, why are they withholding the goods?” He says lounging on the couch.

Ignore.

“Oh you think ignoring me is gonna break me? You’re cute, sweetheart.” Max scoffs.

Ignore.

He even starts a full lecture about the importance to the seductive nature of sales, and you put your headphones in.

Eventually when you start preparing dinner, and he’s slumped on the couch, this annoying vampire blurts out -

“I miss my mom.”

You almost think you misheard him.

“Guess getting closer to death makes you think of things like that. She would’ve liked you.” He continues. “She always said I needed someone good to keep me in check.”

He never once mentioned his mom.

“Always thought you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen.” Max adds soft. “So damn smart and strong.”

Before grabbing the pasta you need to boil, his words freeze you.

“Should’ve run away with you. Wanted to.” He comments wistfully.

“No you didn’t.” You finally speak, and your voice creaks like a haunted house.

Max sits up immediately staring at you.

“I’m being serious.” His voice is unwavering just like his hard earthen eyes.

“Always wanted you. Always think I will.”

“You’re spewing bullshit now.” You flat out tell him. “I saw you that night with that waitress.”

Max sits up more. A hyper awareness rises in you, and you notice how thin the air feels now as the vampire moves to you in the kitchen.

“Besides, you always made it really fucking clear you couldn’t stand to be around me.” You add with a bitter bite.

“Little witches like you always smell so damn bad” - it’s like what he always said. You even repeat his words back to him.

Max stays surprisingly silent now, transformed into the deadly predator he is. Before you realize it you’re pressed against the kitchen wall at a dizzying speed. This handsome vampire stares down at you so close.

You aren’t afraid of what he can do. You know the spell is doing its job at suppressing him. But what is more dangerous is how badly your heart races.

His fingers run up against your chest delicately then to your neck where they stop.

“Only said all that because you drove me so damn crazy.” He mutters lower and hesitant than you’ve ever heard.

“Knew if I let myself even have one taste of you I’d never recover. I’d follow you forever.” He adds.

You swallow hard, barely able to breathe. Then you make the mistake of looking into his eyes.

You know his powers are suppressed. The magic radiating off him smells like a dusty room. Yet his eyes lock you in, almost hypnotizing you as if he was in his full form.

You can’t tell who moves first. You or him. It’s simply a collision of lips messily pressing against each other with Max instantly molds his body into yours.

He drags you to the couch in the living room. The boiling water sits on the stove overflowing. You can’t even seem to care. Not when he eats you out with a possessed consumption, a type of devouring that makes your eyes roll back into another dimension.

You’re surprised at how generous a lover he is, and how well endowed he is. It’s all delicious and good. You hate how much his kisses and heat melt into your bones.

You even hate how easily you fall asleep in his arms.

The next morning you’re still tangled in his hold.

“Haven’t slept like that in decades,” Max yawns groggily when he wakes up. “But that’s what a good fuck and pretty company to sleep with does to a man.”

You snort smacking his bare chest.

The mood shifts after that.

You and him watch shitty day time television together and really get into The Price is Right. You spend hours talking to him about everything and anything.

He also fucks you until your brain melts out of your skull and maybe even after that.

The days melt together and what’s worse, it feels natural falling into place beside Max.

“If we didn’t have all this…” he waves his hand around the room while you and him lie in bed together still not wanting to get up.

“I think we would’ve been good together.” Max muses.

You snort. “We would’ve killed each other.”

Max doesn’t say anything, instead lets his fingers just dance along your bare skin.

You’re about to ask him if he’s alright when he begins to cough. The cough started up last week. Now it sounds hoarse, getting worse over these past few days.

The binding spell is doing its job, keeping him suppressed, but it’s essentially draining him to the brink of no return.

That reality is now manifesting before you and terrifies you. So you’ve tried to sooth him, make him tea or even rub his back.

It’s a ominous awareness that seeps into the cracks of this facade you’ve been in.

“We should run away.” Max says suddenly the next morning after he fucked you senseless in the shower.

“What?!” You shriek.

“You heard me, witch.” He grins toothy. “We should run away, you and me.”

He nudges his chin at you, and your stomach flips.

Now you’re the one staying quiet as your mind scrambles like a frantic rat running from the light.

“Hello?!” He cries out your name, and his voice snaps your spine straight.

“So are you really just gonna let them kill me?!” The vampire snarls.

“You broke the law, like extremely. This is the punishment.” You fire back with a snap.

“You know what’s the real damn punishment? Being here with you. Knowing none of this will matter and...” he cuts himself off fast and glares hard.

You can taste what he’s going to say.

This make believe dream of living with him, of maybe having a life together is just a dream.

A contorted nightmare of what is to come.

You and Max avoid each other the rest of the day.

Until another coughing fit comes, and he collapses in the kitchen. It’s scary watching this suave powerful hunter wither away into almost a husk of who he is. You immediately rush over to help steady him.

Calling out his name, he’s barely in and out of consciousness.

You’re panicking. You know this is what would happen. He only has a week left before his execution.

But you can’t stand this. You don’t want to see him suffer. Not when you’ve felt the Max beneath his grimey jackass surface crust, felt his tender kisses, seen the bashful smiles he gives you, known the way he makes you feel-

So you lower your neck down to him.

“Max, do it.” You order.

“But what about…” he mutters through a wheeze.

“Don’t care. We’ll figure it out.” You firmly cut him off.

Max’s hands shake as he draws himself to you. He even places the softest butterfly of kisses against your skin.

Then he bites down.

His fangs aren’t sharpened so the piercing of his teeth into your skin makes you hiss, feels so much more animalistic than you would have thought.

Then the pleasure immediately washes over.

A honey syrupy warmth courses into your veins, and you moan feeling him suck at you, feeling his tongue lip out to your skin.

You don’t even realize Max has shifted, gained more strength, until your back hits the cold kitchen floor and your hands clutch onto him.

He slides his body between your legs and immediately grinds up against your core.

“Oh fuck, knew it. I knew you’d taste amazing.” He slurs watery as your blood fills his mouth.

You moan more clutching at him as your hips rise to grind against his more. It feels like you could burst out of your skin at any moment with this all consuming pleasure.

Max dry humps you more and you don’t care that you’re picking up a more frantic pace trying to reach your edge.

“Shit yeah, give it to me.” He commands, and your climax hits you dizzying that your vision goes out for a minute.

But you’re not the only one, Max groans loud, a punched out moan signaling his release.

“No one’s made me fucking come in my pants since I was a little bat. You naughty little thing.” He mumbles with a grin against your skin, kissing and licking away at the wound he gave you.

When Max lifts up from your neck, you swear his eyes flicker a shade of crimson.

Eventually he gathers you into his arms. A warmth has returned to his cheeks. You hate that this dumb vampire hasn’t wiped off your blood from his face and instead seems to wear it proud.

“Your blood is my honor badge, witch.” Max winks, and you roll your eyes.

Now the silence returns.

“I’ve wanted to ask…Why did you do it? Change all those people in the office?”

In his arms, you feel Max shrug.

“Why not? Humans are weak, easily broken. Why not give ‘em a shot to be better? If not, they're just food, like a walking grocery store for my kind.”

A dread sickness sinks into you hearing him talk this unbothered and slightly cruel.

“You were human. You couldn’t have always thought like that.” You say firm even as you your fingers trace against his.

Max sighs.

“Yeah that’s true. But love and life’s a bitch ain’t it.”

Curiously, you can’t help but ask what happened.

Max stays quiet. You’re worried this soft bonding bubble has popped.

“I fell in love right before I turned.” His voice takes that uncharacteristically soft somber tone.

Max tells you about the man he met and how the two of them vowed to be together. But then Max was changed, and his partner saw him as a monster. Then all the faith and love shattered right before Max’s eyes.

So, this existence has been a prison of its own for him.

“Then I met you, someone else stuck like me between the mundane and magical.” Max says and your heart jumps.

“You had laughed so damn loud at something the other witch with you at the bar said and it annoyed me. Didn’t think someone could be that happy.”

You’re about to snap at him until he continues.

“I wanted to annoy you as much as I could until I knew you inside and out.”

It’s a Max way of saying he wanted to be with you.

Something heavy and rusting settles in your chest and drags you down to a depth you don’t want to face.

“You still don’t know me.” You mutter.

“I know enough, know you aren’t the type that wants to be an apprentice magistrate, much less a high one. That sounds like what that mother of yours wanted.” Max comments, always seeming to just have the best ability at reading people and it makes you fidget in his arms.

And he’s right.

You never wanted to be a magistrate.

You have dreams of a beautiful occult shop, warm and inviting, getting to run it yourself with all the knowledge of magic you know. Binding and blending the supernatural with the everyday world - that’s what you dreamed of.

You even tell him this.

Max surprisingly listens to it all patiently.

“We could make it happen.” He suggests. “After all, I’m a damn wizard in business.”

That makes you laugh and he joins in.

But it’s a candy coated dream holding a truthful rot beneath all.

“There’s this saying I heard once,” Max says suddenly. “Life’s but a dream for the dead.”

“That’s…morbid.” You reply.

“But true.” Max shrugs simply. “Trust me, I’ve been dead long enough to know. Guess that dream might be ending soon.”

It’s that unspoken festering truth.

The end is approaching.

It now feels as if the prison chains around Max have possibly been around you as well.

What will you do?

Before you head to bed you notice the light from the streetlights casts a shadow from a window that crawls across the floor - it looks like jail bars.

That night you let Max drink from you again and go to absolute heaven. Because if this is your hell then why not taste the sublime even if for a little bit.

You feel more drained than normal, barely staying awake. Max softly reassures you it’s because he’s fed off you twice.

“Just get some rest honey, I’ll be here.” He kisses your shoulder and spoons you in his hold.

Wearily you slip into dreams of a hotel room down the street, where you and Max would escape to. You’d change your name and he’d change his. Max of course manages to negotiate a buy and you get your shop filling it to the brim with tarot cards and blessed candles. It’s your own little slice of heaven, and Max complains about it all the time. But you’re happy, and he stays right beside you.

And then you wake up.

Your mother, the high magistrate, actually is the one shaking you awake.

“What happened?!” She cries petrified and panicked.

Wearily you glance around and find more magic users and guards storm in and out of the apartment.

Max is gone.

Claw marks scratch against the door and the wood is broken open. He found a way out. Absolute horror crashes into you.

“Did you let him drink from you?! Answer me!” Your mom demands screaming your name.

You’re too terrified to answer. The silence is enough and your mom explodes.

“How did you forget?! A vampire drinking a witch's blood allows them to momentarily gain abilities to break seals and spells?!” She screams.

You had been so deep in this delusion… you hadn’t even thought of that.

Your blood runs cold.

That bastard had charmed you with all the suave of a slug. And here you are, left the buyer hoodwinked by the rotten lie he sold you.

All that’s left from Max is a single piece of paper written for you.

Life is but a dream baby…

Crunching the note in your hands, you set the paper on fire.

-

Your prison cell is more comfortable than others and you know that. Being the daughter of a high magistrate is like being the child of a president. You understand the privileged benefits that it brings.

But a cage is still a cage.

You’d be in this single waiting room cell of the dungeon for another day until it was decided where you would go for your crimes of assisting a fugitive.

Your mother is still trying to argue that you were under the influence of Max. In some way you were, but just not in the way she speaks of.

Just thinking about that monster makes your blood boil.

Down the hall of the dungeon, a faint clang echos like something hit the floor. Your guard curiously peeks down the dark shifting labyrinth

The guard’s eyes flicker to you for a brief moment, then he walks off to investigate the noise.

You don’t give it much thought and return to reading your book.

The new footsteps come clocking down the hall. They don’t sound like the familiar boots of the guards and you wonder if it’s someone from the magistrate’s court.

“You miss me baby?”

The air goes still.

Your reaction to hearing Max’s smooth acidic voice is visceral.

You throw your book at him.

“You fucker!” The emotions take over, volcanic and consuming.

He’s dressed in the nicest suit you’ve ever seen and covers his head from your book attack. But you also don’t miss the blood soaking his shirt, still lingering around his lips.

“Hey, hey, hey! Is that anyway you should treat your rescuer?” His face scrunched up in confusion is still as handsome as ever.

“You’re the reason why I’m here to begin with!” You snap.

He hushes you.

“You want us to get caught?!” Max seethes.

Before you can yell at him more, your vampire walks forward and kicks open the gate. The magic shimmers, a fluttering electric wave, then crumbles as the lock opens.

Max stubbornly walks over to snap off the binding spell on your wrists even though it faintly burns his hands as you notice the harsh sizzling sound.

He really is setting you free.

You’re almost too stunned to move now staring at him confused.

Max sighs annoyingly dramatic. “Baby, are you coming or what?”

He holds his hand out, eyes expectant, but there’s a glimmer of hesitation.

You don’t grab his hand, but instead rush forward to kiss him frenzied, not even caring there’s still traces of blood against his chin. It becomes a distorted but consecrated blood vow sealing. You’re thankful this dumb vampire is quick to react grabbing onto you with a fierce hold.

The guards would be coming soon. Max’s intrusion and your escape will be noticed if you don’t act fast.

But for right now, it’s just you and him.

And you think, it might be you and this vampire until the sun bleeds.

And as you place your hand in Max’s - you realize you’re more than okay with that.

[covetyou]

🤭 reader is def borrowing condoms from Dieter (she spent so long debating with herself but she also really wanted Frankies dick). But would Dee be curious and follow to see who she's with? 👀 Maybe try to invite himself to join, or hang out outside the trailer? 🥵💦

Would this morally dubious clown follow someone to watch 'em do the nasty? I think we all know the answer here 😌

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Frankie Morales x fat contortionist f!reader (x Dieter Bravo) rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: voyerism, jealousy, bi Dieter, protected PIV, recreational drug use/reference, Max Phillips makes another cameo word count: 1.2k summary: When the trailer's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'.

A/N: Dieter's POV. takes place after for one night only and fools just wanna have fun.

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Bravo had evaded Max by the skin of his teeth - no sooner had his trailer door shut behind him, running around the back pulling his pants over his dick and balls, and Max was there in the clearing, shouting bloody murder for him before pounding on the door. Before any more inaccurate accusations and threats to his life could be made, Bravo the Clown had snuck away into the night, seething.

This was his night ruined.

The condoms were one thing, but this being a family friend show? Psh, his ass it was. He watched greased up men sliding against each other on the regular, and there was that married couple who practically eye fucked each other whenever they performed. Not to mention you, Sparkles, with your ass hanging out every show as you twisted and bulged and looked so damn sinful he'd had more than one back stage wank over the years. Nothing he did was any less family friendly than that and yet here he was, getting chased down by an angry mob of one simply for wanting to relax a little before a show. And maybe a bit during too.

And after, not forgetting the joint still clutched in his fingers. He'd have to find somewhere more discreet to smoke it now that he had Max hot on his ass, but first he needed a light. His was still on the floor of his trailer, because of you.

Maybe that's why he finds himself walking toward your trailer, it being your fault he's currently without a light after all. He knows you like those stupid little candles, a complete fire hazard in a place like this if you ask him - one knock and the whole polyester spectacle is going up in a cloud of sequins and smoke. It's not at all because he knows what you're doing in there, without him. Not at all. He respects you. He could absolutely, totally leave you to your privacy.

It's not his fault if he's concerned for your safety when he hears your incoherent screams from some way away. He's not going to knock of course, but it doesn't hurt to just check in through the window, does it? It's what any good friend would do. A little rocking trailer should never deter anyone from checking in on their friends.

Okay, so maybe it's rocking quite a bit by the time he gets there, sneaking under one window to get to another he knows is right by your bed. Your screaming and moaning is even louder here, right by the open window. He can hear a wet slapping noise too, and before he lets his imagination run wild, he pokes his head up to look in through the open window and straight at the spectacle in front of him.

And holy fuck, it doesn't disappoint.

You're getting absolutely rammed from behind, your thighs jiggling and shaking with each thrust from the man behind you. His face is pinched, staring right down to where he disappears into you over and over, and the rippling of your ass against his thighs. You're scrambling up and down and up again on your forearms as you try, and fail, to take the intensity of it, your voice rising an octave every time he buries himself in you, until he inevitably hits the factory reset and you make a deep, keening groan before starting all over again. Dieter knows that noise - he makes you make that noise. It's the noise you make when your toes curl and you're about to make a mess all over everything. Like right now, your toes curling over and over in a way he's never seen, because he's never seen it from this far away before.

And, fuck, this is jealousy, isn't it? That should be Dieter in there, fucking the ever living daylights out of you. Instead he's stood on the other side of the window looking in at a man that should be him, but is definitely younger and fitter than he is. Still, he doesn't see what this man has on him - messy hair, a little pooch of his belly just like Dieter, scruff on his jaw. Entirely unremarkable, if you ask -

Until that man pulls out fully, unveiling his cock before slamming it home once more.

Suddenly, he's jealous of both of you. Jealous of him for getting to fuck you - and in your trailer too. You'd only ever let him in there once, and it was maybe the most comfortable he'd ever been. And jealous of you for taking that monster of a cock that, quite frankly, should be too much for one person to take. You could take a hand (and a half, on a good day) of course, but fuck, had you never heard about sharing?

Dieter shared his condoms with you, and now you were keeping this all to yourself. What he wouldn't give to be in there, lying next to you as you got fucked to oblivion by this guy you seem to have picked straight from the crowd. He'd quiet your screams with his cock in your mouth, or let you suck on his balls while he waited his turning for a fucking. Even better, he'd lick your pretty cunt while that cock demolished your hole, just so he could taste both of you at once.

Still, the best he can do is watch the condom, his condom, on the man's cock as it slides in and out of you - the closest thing to being between the two of you he'll be - while listening to your screams as they hit a crescendo. Your tits swing beneath you, your belly rippling with the force of the fucking you're receiving. The mans fingers - the asshole - are digging into your plush hips, sinking into the fat there and holding on for dear life, likely leaving bruises that Dieter will have to see for days and try not to get hard about.

The man grunts and groans now, telling you how perfect you are and how hard he's going to come, because you're so, so, so perfect - Dieter fucking knows. He knew it first.

Then, you're coming. Shaking, and moaning, falling forward onto your mattress with your hips still held in the air, making a complete mess of your sheets in the process, screaming Frankie into the air, your trailer positively fucking rattling now as the man - fucking Frankie - finds it in himself to go even harder, battering your cervix so deliciously painfully that he knows your eyes are rolling in your head, even if he can't see them.

And it's over, and everything is still again, and the quiet feels so very loud as you sigh and giggle into fucking Frankie's mouth, and he pulls that massive cock, dripping, out of you and throws away his fucking condom.

His joint is crumpled in his hand, Bravo the Clown's search for a light fucking useless now, just as the symbol of his fucked night falls to the ground outside your trailer ready for you to find in the morning.

Family friendly his ass.

[suzdin]

Two for One: Part Five

Neighbor!Dave York x Human!Max Phillips x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-vampire Max, pre-Equalizer 2 Dave, familial drama and angst, ANGST!, mentions of drug use/abuse, alcoholism!, family death, invasions of privacy, breaking and entering, mentions of murder/violence, oral (f receiving), dom!Dave, soft!Max, threesome, anal, vaginal, breath play, alcohol and nicotine consumption, double penetration, anal creampie, dirty talk, I think that’s it

Words: 6,375 (sorry it’s short)

Notes: holy shit I don’t even know what to say other than I’m very grateful and touched by how many of you have reached out to me, and that I’m so so so sorry it took me this long to add a new chapter. Hopefully it’s worth the wait. I’m hoping to be more regular in the future! I did my best to remember who to tag, yell at me in the comments if I forgot you 🥴

—

You aren’t sure why, but with Dave gone, it feels wrong to see Max. At least, outside of your workplace...

Were it the other way around, you don’t think you would experience the same level of cloying guilt you feel with Dave, but then again, your relationship with Dave was far different than what you had with Max: while you kept Dave at arm’s length, with Max, you kept him even further than that, a begrudging admission of your lack of self control, something that you hate to admit runs in your family. You with your alcoholism and overactive sex drive; Garrett with his addiction to narcotics. Your mother’s former addictions to the same things as you and your brother, at one point or another, waxing and waning for decades as long as you can feasibly remember.

You can’t help but smirk to yourself as you imagine scientists studying your family like captive apes, which isn’t too far off. They would probably learn a thing or two about addiction. Not that your mother believes in science enough to volunteer for such things.

So, that is how things go for those few days that Dave is out of town. Max respects your need for space, surprisingly so, affording you little more than a few minutes in the bathroom each day you’re both in the coffee shop at the same time, ending in either a belly full of Max’s cum, his fingers buried deep in your pussy until you see stars, or both.

And he still insists on ending every interaction with those strangely intimate and delicate embraces, each encounter getting longer and softer with each passing day. Almost like Max wants to be close to you, but isn’t sure how else to go about it, only knowing that it’s something he needs—no, craves.

You won’t lie, you had started looking forward to those hugs too, needing them more than you’d realized. He never kisses you, though, no matter how long he holds you in his arms afterwards, something that leaves an oddly empty pit twisting inside of you that you can’t find yourself able to shake.

Your coworkers definitely know about your little bathroom receptions, thankfully looking the other way when Max comes strolling in like Don Juan in his pursuit of you. Even, much to your surprise, Audrey, whom you often found shooting dirty looks your way when she thinks you’re unawares, but has sense enough to keep her mouth shut. At least in front of you.

You played it cool around your boss, Maurizio, who seemed to be none the wiser, Max often chatting him up as a distraction when you had to straighten your clothes or smooth down your hair or make sure you didn’t have any remnants of jizz lingering on you. Sweet talking was definitely one of Max’s strong suits and Maury ate that shit right up.

Your nights after your shifts ended with you and Dave on the phone, talking — or doing other things — for hours on end, and you had to admit that his voice in your ear at the end of a long day was a welcome gift and distraction.

You asked about each other’s days; you lamenting about the stressors of your job, even divulging the part about the shipment of mocha syrup being two weeks late and how you’re down to only two bottles, and that you’re pretty sure Audrey and Vincent hate you, but leave out any bits about Max being the reason.

He tells you all about the day to day activities with his girls, everything from the inevitable meltdowns, to what they did and where they went, even letting you talk to his eldest — Molly — for a few moments when she insisted on knowing who her dad was talking to if it wasn’t Mommy, and although it felt awkward and forced it was still very sweet and amiable, leading you to wonder if this was all leading to something bigger between you and Dave… although you’d known each other only a very short time, it was suddenly feeling very real.

Did you want that?

You didn’t know, and not knowing scared you. That’s why, you realized, you hadn’t completely pushed Max away, in case things went awry. And they often did in your case, leaving behind a flaming trail of gnarled and smoldering wreckage in its wake.

And maybe you were starting to like Max, too. Just a little. As much as you tried to deny it.

At the very least, you could admit you looked forward to his daily visits more and more as the days slogged on, which was saying a lot.

As the upcoming week drew ever nearer, Dave’s communication dwindled and subsequently ran dry, which had you a bit worried. He had texted you about some vague work thing he had to do. You didn’t ask what it was, since it was none of your business.

Yet, you couldn’t keep yourself from worrying when the messages slowed and eventually stopped. Had you done or said something offputting?

You do your best not to linger in your own head for too long, keeping yourself busy with mundanities.

——

Dave was careful not to stay in touch with you unless absolutely necessary while he was actively on target. Whatever he could do to prevent you from being tied to the crime, even if only via digital footprint. Not to mention to keep himself from being tied to it, in whatever way possible.

He had left the crime scene with the intent to drive through the night without stopping until he reached Boston. His mind had not diverted from the original plan; however, with his dick painfully engorged and straining against his pants every step of the way, your face at the forefront of his mind, he found himself having to stop more than once to relieve the ache. You made him feel crazy. Crazier than he’s ever felt before. And he simultaneously loved and hated it.

With your videos playing on a loop, seat reclined back as far as it could go, he spills across his stomach again and again as he grunts your name through clenched teeth, hot spend collecting in the hollow of his navel.

Sunrise is approaching and he still has a couple of hours to go before he reaches you. He can’t wait to be with you. He can’t…

——

As you force yourself to drag ass into another long, miserable shift at work, barely conscious, your hair a rat’s nest, Dave is having to force himself not to be lead-footed all the way home. Being pulled over by a cop is the last thing he needs right now.

He texts you around 7AM, asking if you’re working and how you’re doing, although he already knows you’re not home, from the camera loop he periodically checks. He has to ask, though, to be as inconspicuous as possible.

You feel a wave of relief when you see Dave’s name pop up on your phone. But with a storm bearing down hard on the city (what your mother affectionately and irritatingly refers to as ‘tornado weather’), business unexpectedly picks up and you’re too slammed with soaked and pissy customers to respond in a timely manner.

You’re even too busy for Max when he comes in, passing him an apologetic glance right before your hands slip and you splash blistering hot coffee down the front of your shirt. Behind the dejected, puppy dog eyes he’s giving you, you almost think you see concern flash in those dark brown irises of his.

Not like that’s possible. Right?

—

It takes Dave longer than anticipated to make it back to Boston. Between the instances he had to pull off to relieve the strain in his pants, and subsequently take a power nap, he hits the city a little past 9, and by the time he makes it through the infuriating drag of traffic and rain, he pulls into his spot close to 10.

He draws in a deep breath as he stares up at your apartment window, dark now, pulling himself out of the driver’s seat, barely having enough energy to make it through the downpour and up the stairs to his apartment.

But as soon as he deposits his bag on the living room floor, he’s inexplicably hit with a second wind, adrenaline coursing through his veins when it occurs to him how close he is to you once again.

He hastily stuffs his lock picking kit down his pants, grabbing a rain slicker from the closet, despite already being drenched to the skin.

He knows you aren’t home. He’s confirmed and re-confirmed it. But needs to be in your space. Just long enough to smell you again, be with you without being with you until you can officially be in his arms again. He wants to lie on your bed, wrapped in your scent like a cloak as he dribbles down his fist, surprising you later by picking you up from work so you don’t have to walk home in the rain.

Which reminds him — he texts you again, asking when you get off, hoping that you’re just busy and not ignoring him.

He makes it inside your apartment in record time, the old wood of the interior crackling from the pressure disturbance, almost as if beckoning him inside.

He locks the door behind him and toes off his shoes, glancing around the small, dark space, which smells of stale cigarettes and… you.

He only needs a couple of hours. That’s all. Just long enough to hold him over until he can see you, smell you for real, touch you. Fuck you until your eyes roll back into your skull and you see stars.

He strips off his dripping clothes and drapes them over the back of your kitchen chairs to dry, at least somewhat, crawling into your bed and pulling the comforter up past his shoulders.

He presses his face to mattress, inhaling deeply, immediately growing hard from your lingering scent. Your coconut shampoo, your vanilla body spray. You.

As he slips his cock free from his boxers, he can almost feel your curves against his fingertips, the softness of your lips against his.

He begins to pump himself slowly, knowing he risked it all for you. Just so that sad fuck you call an ex can’t harass you anymore, his cock tightening further as he recalls the way Jonathan looked when the life drained from behind his eyes.

He did it for you, and he would do it a million times more if he could.

—

Your work day finally begins to slow after the lunch rush, the rain slacking off to a more tolerable, humid drizzle.

You let the others know that you’re retiring to the alley for a much needed cigarette break, and to not bother you for fifteen minutes unless it’s a life and death emergency. And even then, still don’t.

You already have a cigarette perched between your lips and a lighter clutched in your fist before you even hit the alleyway, thankful for the small awning even with the calmer precipitation.

You ignite the cig, pocketing your lighter as you take a seat on the milk crate you use as a stool, drawing in a long, much needed puff of smoke and toxins into your lungs. Fuck, it’s been a day.

You fish your phone out of your pocket so you can shoot Max a quick apology for not being able to see him earlier, immediately becoming distracted by the sheer volume of text messages you’ve missed since the start of your shift, Max momentarily forgotten.

Two of the messages are from Dave, which you’re relieved to see and respond to right away. One is from an employee letting you know they’re going to be half an hour late to their shift, which you ignore for the time being, not wanting to deal with it just yet. And the other eight are from your mom.

You sigh, taking another drag from your cigarette as you begrudgingly click on her name, anticipating the usual slew of bitching and moaning, reminding you what a terrible, awful daughter you are for abandoning your family; or, on the other end of the spectrum, kissing your ass and pleading for money.

As soon as your eyes scan over the messages, your world is swiftly rocked off its axis, your fingers losing their strength as your hands begin to tremor.

Your phone and cigarette crash to the ground, the former cracking as it hits the concrete, the latter snuffing itself out in the little bit of rain that’s left.

You wedge the heel of your palms against your eyelids and begin to weep, but you can still see the words behind your eyes, already haunting you, wishing you could scratch them out of your brain, wishing you could turn back time like it never happened.

Your grandmother, the only bit of glue that ever held you to your family, is gone.

—

Sarah comes in on her day off to cover the rest of your shift so you can leave early, thanking her profusely with promises to make it up to her as soon as you can.

You let Maury know you’re going to take a few days for bereavement, and he doesn’t give you any shit about it.

You walk home in a milky daze, finding your way by muscle memory alone, because you’re pretty sure you aren’t actually perceiving anything but a whirlwind of grief; grief so intense you can feel it in your bones, your bone marrow.

Your grandma—Granny Ruth—was the kindest, most selfless woman you’d ever had the privilege of knowing. You never could figure out how your mother turned out the way she did; how they were not only different, but polar fucking opposites.

You keep reading and re-reading your mother’s texts. How, in addition to your sorrow and angst, you’re also unfathomably angry.

Mom: your grandmother Ruth passed this morning

Mom: shame you weren’t here to say goodbye since you abandoned us

Mom: don’t bother coming home, she is being cremated no service

You need a stiff drink. Several, in fact. You need drugs. Every single one.

You need to get fucked until you’re completely desiccated. You need to strangle every last shred of emotion from your body because it’s too much to carry right now.

You wish you had a kill switch for your brain.

—

By the time you’ve reached the stoop that leads up to your building, you can’t keep it in any longer.

You managed to hold the fraying threads of your sanity together when you had to call Sarah in. And when you had to let Maury know. Even on the walk home, you were a zombie. Mindless. Numb.

But now, as you draw nearer to your home—or what you call home, but doesn’t really feel that way— your legs grow weak and your head swims, forcing you to collapse on the steps that lead up to the double doors, hunched forward, sobbing into your hands.

You aren’t sure how long you stay there, or if anyone sees you, and you really don’t care.

You stay until your head is throbbing, only snapping out of your daze when a familiar voice cuts through the sorrow, hushed, concerned, your name a murmur on their lips.

“Doll… are you okay?”

When you finally lift your head, your gaze settles on Max.

—

You tell Max about your grandmother. How she had been sick for years, how you should have never left her, the guilt and regret gnawing at you. You had been selfish, stupid.

He sits beside you on the steps, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, letting you cry, letting you lament about how much you hate your mother, only speaking when he needs to.

He’s being sweet, sympathetic, patient, and completely unlike his usual self. And you’re intuitive enough to know he isn’t bullshitting or just trying to get into your pants. He’s actually being sincere.

It’s so unlike him it almost unsettles you.

You aren’t complaining, though. It’s nice in how unexpected, how off-kilter it seems, and it does make you feel better, at least for a few fleeting moments.

As the conversation carries on and your mood lifts a peg or two, Max’s gentle, sympathetic touches gradually turn more reverent, more wanton, his movements slow and unsure at first to test the waters, wanting to ensure that you want it as much as he does.

When you reciprocate, your eyes re-affirming your needs to him, he grows more insistent, more brazen, cupping your breasts through your polo, coffee stains and all, canine teeth scraping along your pulse point.

He’s being more tender and sensual than you’re used to, and while you don’t mind it, you prefer Max’s usual persona and would much rather be railed so hard you forget your own name.

He pulls away long enough for you to punch in your password on the keypad, flinging the twin doors open and making a beeline for the elevator with Max trailing at your heels like an infatuated puppy.

His touches become more persistent and demanding the closer you get to your apartment, his true colors finally bleeding through. By the time you’re fumbling your keys to unlock the door, he’s practically dry humping you, hands on your hips, half hard already.

After a brief and minor struggle with your lock, your hands tremoring again, you eventually shoulder the door open, stumbling inside with Max immediately following suit.

The cool dark of your space welcomes you as you shut the door harder than intended, Max’s hands returning to your hips.

Suddenly, the air in the room shifts, and there’s movement from your bed.

—

You scream, your hands losing their strength for the second time today, keys and purse crashing to the floor as Max positions himself between you and the intruder.

Without thinking, you instinctively reach for the switch next to your head, the resulting flood of luminescence rendering everyone temporarily blind.

When your vision eventually returns, and you see who’s standing before you, you’re almost unable to fathom what the fuck is even going on.

“Dave? How the f- what are you… what the fuck?” you manage to prattle out, in spite of your inability to otherwise form a cohesive thought.

Dave could kick himself for being so careless, so sloppy. He was more clear cut than that. He should have known better.

His eyes flick to Max, his face neutral as he assesses the situation before speaking, taking a tentative step in your direction.

He’s in nothing but black boxers, one side of his hair flattened, his eyes weary and heavy with lingering traces of sleep.

He says your name, studying your face. He can tell you’ve been crying, and he wants to break whoever did this to you, rip them apart at the seams until there’s nothing left to identify a body.

He isn’t dense and can see that Max isn’t the source of your distress, clearing his throat subtly, whispering your name again.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low, his need to touch you, kiss you, bordering on physical pain. But he doesn’t want to startle or upset you, your eyes as large as dinner plates.

As Dave creeps another step forward, Max shoulders up to him, practically bristling like a dog over a prized bone.

“Maybe you should answer her question, Dave.”

“Max—“ you warn, Max pivoting to meet your gaze, taking a single step back only because of you.

Dave passes him a glance, and for a brief, but satisfying moment, he imagines himself decking Max square in the jaw. He knows he could take the pretentious prick down in a single blow, he’s certain of it. But as much as he wants to do just that, he refrains.

He’s aware that acting on his instincts would disrupt your already fragile state. And as much as he hates to admit it, he understands why Max is acting the way he is. He would behave the same, were the roles reversed.

He draws in a deep breath before responding.

“I wanted to see you. You weren’t home… your door was unlocked, so I let myself in. I wanted to surprise you. But I must have drifted off...”

He pauses, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, giving you a moment to absorb everything.

“I’m sorry. I was exhausted, not thinking straight. I… I fucked up.”

You can’t help but notice Max is uncharacteristically quiet as Dave explains himself, hands on his hips, ready to jump in at any moment if needed. But like Dave, he doesn’t want to do anything to upset you.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. I want to help, if I can. I-“ He takes another step, his hand reaching for your arm. “I missed you.”

You see a muscle in Max’s jaw jump when Dave touches you, and as much as you want to shove him away, scream at him, tell him to fuck right off for breaking into your apartment… locked or not… you can’t bring yourself to do it. You’ve been angry enough for one day and you’re too mentally drained to care right now.

More tears fall in lieu of your anger, and you almost can’t believe you still have any left to cry.

Dave closes the distance, Max immediately flinching, itching to pick a fight but holding back. Dave doesn’t seem to notice or care, his focus honed solely on you, cupping your jaw, his thumb dragging over your cheekbone, catching any stray tears.

They’re behaving surprisingly well, given the circumstances, you have to give them that.

And although Max knew about you and Dave, you’re shocked to realize Dave knows about you and Max. But it’s too much information to dwell on right now, your head a foggy mess, so you don’t.

“My grandma died,” you croak.

—

The first hour is awkward, uncomfortable, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Dave and Max are getting along but only just barely, both of them vying for your attention to the point of additional stress, wanting to do whatever they can to make you feel better.

None of it feels real. Everything feels dark and hazy, a fever dream.

You’re sandwiched between both men on your tiny couch, watching something on Discovery none of you give two shits about, passing a bottle of vodka around to add to your mixer of choice as you sit in otherwise oppressive, stifling silence.

Their hands are all over you, competing for your affections, probably wishing you would kick the other one out, and you consider more than once to kick both out to let you wallow in your sorrow in peace.

But the drunker you get, the less you care. The drunker they get, the less they care about the other touching you, as long as they do get to touch you in some way or another.

As their touches grow bolder, you sense something unspoken pass between them, their caresses gradually transitioning to fondling, their hands moving over your curves, groping your breasts, teasing your folds through your thin leggings.

Of course there are a few moments where they bristle and bicker, quarreling over who gets to touch you where, but for the most part, they cooperate, working your body in tandem.

Your head falls back, your neck folded over the back of the couch as Dave’s fingers slip under the band of your leggings, his lips finding your neck.

“So wet already,” he murmurs against your pebbled flesh, his fingers feather light touches against your skin, teasing. “You like the way we’re touching you, baby?”

Max’s lips are on the opposite side of your neck, nibbling and kissing from your jaw to your clavicle, his hand sliding under your shirt, pushing your bra aside to pluck at your puckered nipple.

You can only moan in response, so fucking horny you don’t even know what to do with yourself.

“I think she does,” Max replies with a crooked smirk, locking eyes with Dave as he slips your polo over your head, his head dipping to suckle at your exposed breast.

Dave pushes two fingers past your entrance, languidly pumping them as he anchors his thumb against your clit, causing your hips to twitch and sputter.

“So fucking pretty for us,” Dave purrs against your neck, pushing your leggings down to your knees, “Dirty fucking slut, letting two men touch you. What else would you let us do to you?”

“Anything you want,” you respond almost immediately, not having to giving it another thought.

Max’s head lifts from your chest, gently pushing you forward so he can remove your bra.

“That’s a dangerous proposition, doll. You think you can handle both of us at the same time?” Max counters, a devilish glint making his dark eyes shine as he palms himself over his pants.

You nod, unable to respond in any coherent language due to whatever magic Dave is currently performing between your thighs.

Dave tells you to lift your legs, tugging your bottoms the rest of the way down.

He had pulled his pants back on after you and Max arrived, but he shucks them off again, the outline of his dick visibly straining through the fabric.

Max had already stripped down to his undershirt and pants, wiggling out of his shirt while Dave removes his pants.

Dave spreads your thighs apart, drinking in the vision of your sopping wet pussy, the tip of his tongue flicking at his bottom lip like a hungry reptile.

He turns to Max, his eyes glistening, his brow furrowed.

“Make her cum. Get her ready,” Dave commands, Max not bothering to argue with being told what to do so authoritatively, because he wants it just as badly as you do.

“Ride his face,” he tells you, gesturing for you and Max to move over to the bed.

“Use him to get yourself off.”

Max moves into position, wriggling out of his pants in the process, leaving both men in their boxers and you completely nude.

Your walls clench around nothing as you mount Max’s face, planting your knees on either side of his head, your palms against the wall.

Max places a few delicate kisses to your inner thighs before abruptly pulling you all the way down, his tongue curling into your wet heat.

Dave growls, his eyes darkening with lust as he steps out of his boxers, large hand wrapping around the base of his thick cock, steadily stroking himself to the vision of Max eating you out with abandon.

Dave bends to kiss your velvety lips, his tongue demanding access and you let him.

“You remember your safe word, don’t you?” Dave asks as he breaks the kiss, his fingers entwined in your hair.

You nod, your lower lip dangling. “Foxglove for you, lavender for Max,” you reply.

“Good girl,” Dave praises, giving your right ass cheek a solid smack. “Now ride his face. Use him.”

You hear Max grunt something against your folds but you aren’t sure what, leaning back, your spine flexing as you brace yourself on Max’s muscular arms.

Dave watches, transfixed, his hand never leaving his cock as he tilts your head back to kiss and bite at your throat, your jaw.

“Is he doing a good job, sweetheart?” Dave asks and your head bobs eagerly in response.

“Yes he is,” you say as your hips roll forward, thrusting against Max’s tongue, his arched nose bumping your clit with every stroke.

“Max, spread her cheeks for me,” Dave says firmly and Max immediately obliges, his cock twitching in his shorts when he understands where this is going.

With his hands gripping your ass, he helps you to guide your movements, moaning against your folds.

Dave perches on the edge of the bed behind you, collecting some of your excess slick to coat his fingers, assisting Max in spreading you even wider as he teases and prods at your puckered star of muscle.

“Let me in, sweetheart, or it’s going to hurt later,” Dave commands softly, circling your entrance with his index finger. “Lean forward a little bit,” he tells you, placing his palm between your shoulders as he guides you into position.

You brace against the wall again, relaxing as much as you can, the new angle helping.

Dave manages to slip one finger inside, pistoning into your tight tunnel, making you whimper and quiver against Max.

He spits directly onto your anus to apply more lubrication, adding a second finger to the first.

“Keep riding his face just like that. Use both of us, pump yourself onto my fingers as you use his mouth,” Dave says, his voice low, his other hand reaching around to circle your throat.

“There you go,” he says as his fingers probe deeper, scissoring them apart to help stretch you further.

“Yes, fuck yes,” you whimper, your movements becoming more determined, more frantic.

Max is a trooper, his fingers still digging into your ass, his grip bruising, his tongue still flicking and curling into your tunnel, not even stopping to take a breath.

“That’s it, sweetheart, such a good girl for us,” Dave murmurs, his voice low and velvet.

He attempts to insert a third finger, adding more spittle and slick, only getting it past the first knuckle, but it does seem to help in spreading you open.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum… I’m so close…” you whine as your bounce more fervently on Max’s face, making him grunt words of affirmation under you, muffled against your soft mound.

Dave’s hold on your neck tightens, his fingers flexing against your skin, his lips brushing your ear.

“Let go for us, sweetheart. Let it all out.”

Max continues to guide your movements, Dave helping now as well, bouncing you up and down, using your neck as a handle.

With a loud cry, you cum hard and fast, stars behind your eyes as both men work you through your orgasm, Dave’s hand releasing your throat to return to his cock, Max groaning into your pussy until the waves of pleasure subside.

Dave pulls his fingers free, stilling his ministrations on his own body as he gently cups your cheek.

“Still okay?” he asks, and you nod with a smile as you climb off of Max who, understandably, needs a moment to take a breath.

Max finally extricates himself from his boxers, heavy cock springing free, pumping himself slowly as his visage roves hungrily over you and Dave.

“Get on his cock and lean forward,” Dave demands in a low growl, and you shimmy down Max’s body, straddling him, Max slotting himself at your entrance and lifting his hips to meet you in the middle.

You slowly sink down to his lap, Max releasing a hiss of pleasure, placing his hands on either side of your hips.

“Fuck, baby, you feel amazing,” Max pants, already bucking his hips in anticipation.

Dave positions himself behind you, on his knees, his hands also moving to your hips, fingers brushing Max’s.

They lock eyes with each other, his brow a hard, dark line as he regards the other man.

“You are not allowed to cum in her. Understand?” he tells Max, his voice low and authoritative, his lips tight.

Max frowns, his brow wrinkling in disapproval, but he doesn’t protest, not wanting to let the opportunity to be inside you slip through his fingers.

Dave edges closer, adding more spit and slick to your anus, inserting two fingers again to ensure you’re ready.

“Just relax, baby, and use your safe words if you need them,” Dave tells you gently, placing the head of his cock against your tight ring of muscle.

“Just breathe,” he says, and begins slowly pushing himself into you.

As Dave gradually gains ground, you’ve never felt so full in your entire life, the sensation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, even when Dave claimed your ass the first night.

There is some pain initially, but the alcohol helps to alleviate some of the discomfort, as well as slacken your muscles enough for Dave to bottom out.

His head falls back with a loud groan as his hips press firmly against your ass, stilling himself for a beat to relish the sensation of your body strangling his cock.

After a moment, both men exchange another look and they begin to move slowly in conjunction with one another, their movements choppy and stilted at first as they learn the other’s movements, able to find a mutual rhythm after a few minutes that seems to work for you.

“Oh fuck,�� you keen, burying your face against Max’s shoulder while both men slide in and out of you in tandem, and you think you’ve never felt anything more glorious in your entire life.

Max wraps his arms around your back, holding you against him, whispering encouragement in your ear.

“Look at you,” Max praises, one hand moving to cup the nape of your neck. “Taking both of us so well. You like having two men inside of you, don’t you?”

You nod and whimper against his neck, your hot breath fanning his skin, on the verge of tears with how heavenly it feels, how much joy and pleasure they’re gifting to you.

Dave gives your right ass cheek another sharp smack, making you yelp in surprise at the abrupt lance of pain.

“Say it. Say out loud how much you love it,” Dave grits through his teeth, his ministrations growing more intense.

“I love having two men inside of me, fucking me, using me,” you mewl between breaths, relinquishing a loud moan when their hips snap against you simultaneously, almost as if they planned it.

Little by little, their movements increase in speed and power, seamlessly with the other, a series of curses and inhuman noises bellowing out of your ribcage.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” you cry out when you feel yourself getting close for a second time, your muscles already tightening. “I’m gonna fucking… cum… again…” you groan against Max’s neck.

Dave lands another slap to your ass, their thrusts growing rougher, your bed rocking against the wall.

“Cum for us, baby. Cum all over Max’s cock while I’m railing your tight little ass,” Dave snarls, panting hard as he chases his own end as well.

You reach your second peak only moments later, your vision going pure white as you’re hurtled far over the edge, experiencing the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had in your life, gushing unapologetically all over Max’s lap and your bed.

They keep pistoning against you, riding you through the waves of your orgasm, the sounds of their grunts and growls filling the small space.

Dave can tell by the look on Max’s face that he’s close as well, his breath ragged in his chest as he warns Max a second time not to finish inside of you.

Max’s cheeks inflate, his skin a deep shade of pink, sweat prickling his brow as he does everything he can to hold back.

“Final warning,” Dave grits, reaching around you to grip Max by the throat, squeezing hard enough to get his point across.

With a deep grunt, Max pulls out of you at the last possible second, locking eyes with Dave, hand still wrapping his throat, exploding like a goddamn geyser all over your ass and Dave’s stomach.

That spurs Dave to reach his own end, stilling inside of you, hips twitching and jerking involuntarily as he unloads everything he has to give, your flexing and pulsing anus milking every last drop.

He collapses on top of you, both men breathing haggardly, your skin slicked with perspiration.

You stay like that for a while, none of you wanting to move for a long time.

Dave pushes his face against the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, his cheek resting against Max’s chest.

He eventually pulls out, rolling onto his back as you settle between them, lying in comfortable silence for what seems like an eternity.

Max pushes himself up, going over to the bathroom to grab some warm, damp rags, tossing one to you and Dave, using the third on himself.

Dave scoots to the edge of the bed, studying Max in silence as Max gathers his clothes.

You move next to Dave, also watching Max get dressed, quirking a brow in confusion and concern.

“You aren’t staying?”

—

You walk Max down, the elevator ride silent and stifling, his hands shoved awkwardly into his pockets, having never been more quiet in his life.

You follow him to the street, staying with him until he reaches the corner.

“I have work tomorrow,” he says, a flimsy excuse at best.

You cross your arms, searching his face. “Are you okay?” you question, finding yourself genuinely worried.

“Yeah,” Max replies stiffly, confused and overwhelmed by everything that just occurred, his mind replaying the moment Dave grabbed his throat, resulting in him exploding all over both of you like a nervous teen on prom night.

“I just want to be sure…” he begins, lifting his hand to caress your cheek. “Did you want that?”

You meet his eyes with your own, not used to seeing Max this vulnerable, this unsure. You don’t like it.

“Yes. I did…” you say honestly, exhaling a slow breath.

“Did you?” you ask softly.

“Yeah. I did. I wanted it, and I enjoyed it, but… I don’t know,” he says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “I guess I’m just tired.”

You search his face again, searching for the unspoken answers, but not wanting to scare him away by prying too much.

You step into him, wrapping your arms around him in a snug embrace, and he buries his face in your hair, his arms linking behind your back.

He pulls away after a beat, his hands moving to either side of your face.

“I’ll text you soon. Okay? I’m sorry again, by the way. About your grandmother.”

You inhale deeply, nodding in acknowledgment, trying not to cry again. Sensing your pain, feeling a different kind of pain twisting in his chest, Max does something he normally wouldn’t.

He pulls you closer, his lips connecting with yours in a soft, worshipping kiss, long fingers sinking into your hair, committing the way you taste to memory.

—

@ohheypedrito @kateispunk @kellybelly1978 @heavennumber2 @alwaysmicado @yorksgirl @cosmic-li @chronically-ghosted @morallyinept @daddy-dins-girl @natdeandar @sarap-77 @guelyury @vabeachazn @gwendibleywrites @anoverwhelmingdin @oberynslady @untamedheart81 @casa-boiardi

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

it's wip wednesday my dudes

thank you @probablyreadinsmut, @letsgobarbs, @the-mandawhor1an, @evolnoomym, @guiltyasdave and @toxicanonymity for the tags 💕

Instead of writing for things with deadlines I drabbled the weekend away (and am still drabbling tbh). the heart wants what the heart wants 🤷‍♀️

I'm sharing a snippet of my serial killer Max Phillips from the killing moon. TW: dark, following noncon activities being mentioned, blood, violence, manipulation, nothing too explicit but still very much dead dove

no pressure tagging: @ananonymousaffair @toomanystoriessolittletime @sin-djarin @mrsmando @schnarfer

[oonajaeadira]

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.

_____

MASTERLIST

CHARACTER MASTERLIST

[daddy-dins-girl]

CAN YOU DO A PEDRO BOYS IDEAL FIRST DATE

Ok well I don't have an alignment chart for this one, but I can provide some headcanons!

And apologies, I didn't get ALL the boys in here, but I got a lot. Feel free to reblog with HC's of any of the boys I missed.

Hope this is somewhat what you had in mind!

PS: My ask box is always open.

Headcanons under the cut!

Joel Miller - Joel takes you to a bar. It’s a little divey, but not without its charm. There’s live music and all the furniture is made of rich mahogany that gleams even under the low lighting. Joel looks amazing, foregoing his usual flannel for a black button-down shirt that’s tucked into dark jeans and a brown leather belt. Once you’ve gotten your drinks from the bar he takes you to a round booth and slides in right next to you, slinging his arm over the back of the bench and over your shoulders so that there’s no question to anyone else in the establishment who exactly you came here with (and who you’re leaving with). The table he picked is close to the stage so that every time you want to talk to each other you need to lean in real close just to hear what the other is saying. You think he did that on purpose, and you think you like Joel. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️

Marcus Pike - Marcus has planned everything ahead of time. He has a reservation for a restaurant he knows you’d love, based on just the few short conversations you’d had previous to setting up this date. After your meal you take a romantic walk along the pier at his suggestion and you wonder why Marcus keeps checking his watch every few minutes until suddenly fireworks start bursting high in the sky above your heads and you realize he wanted to time your walk perfectly so that you wouldn’t miss the scheduled show. He’s literally so adorable you could melt. You pretend to be cold as you watch the colorful display in the sky so that he’ll maybe put his arm around you. He does, but not until after shrugging out of his suit jacket and laying it across your shoulders first. You have a second date on the books before the first one even ends. scorcher score:🌶️

Dave York - You’re certain it’s no coincidence that Dave picked a restaurant that happened to be inside of a fancy hotel. And to his credit, you’re at the concierge desk before dessert has even been served, pawing all over each other while he hands the clerk his AMEX card and reminds them you do not wish to be disturbed this evening.  scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Jack Daniels - Jack takes you to the rodeo. You’ve never been before so it’s actually really fun and exciting as he explains all the events to you and you look around in wonder at everything happening around you. Jack failed to mention, however, that he’s in the fucking rodeo. You don’t mind though because the whole bucking bronco thing? Kinda hot…  Later you make sure to tell him that, and to leave the hat on. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Max Phillips - Max called it a “date” when he’d invited you. You (and literally everyone else including Webster’s Dictionary) would actually refer to what he’s brought you to as an orgy but… tomato/tomahto.  Max Phillips is an absolute menace, but you knew that already. scorcher score:🚨 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ 🚨

Javi Gutierrez - He takes you to the movies, of course. You half expect him to have rented out the entire theater for just the two of you, but once the movie starts playing you watch in awe of how into it he gets, eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas. And it's not just the movie, but the joy he seems to get from sharing the experience with the hundred or so people around you. It’s sweet. He’s sweet.  scorcher score: 🌶️

Frankie Morales - He picks you up from your place and drives for a good hour up the coast line until he stops finally for what he tells you is the absolute best taco truck you’ll ever experience (and turns out, he’s not wrong). After dinner and an ice cream cone from another nearby food truck he holds your shoes (and your hand) as you take a walk down the beach on warm sand while soft summer waves lap at your feet. You absolutely let him get to 3rd base in the cab of his truck before he drops you off. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️

Javier Peña - It’s not exactly a date, but you do get a text to your phone at 2am. “U up?” scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Maxwell Lord - Maxwell wants to show you off. He takes you to a swanky party that is crawling with Washington’s social elites. Politicians, Diplomats and business men and women make up a majority of the guest list and he’s eager to have you on his arm when he makes introductions. The party is a little stuffy, a little boring, so when the entertainment portion of the evening begins and everyone is distracted, you and Maxwell happily sneak off to the back of the coat check room for your own private party instead. Maxwell turns out to be a little spicier than you originally gave him credit for.  scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️

Oberyn Martell - see “Max Phillips”. scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Marcus Moreno - Marcus takes you to a carnival that happens to be in town for the weekend. You shove cotton candy in each other’s faces like complete dorks in love, share your first kiss at the top of the ferris wheel, walk the fairgrounds eating snow cones, and before the night is over Marcus wins you a teddy bear with a red ribbon around its neck that is literally so huge you can barely get it through your front door later that night when he drops you off.  scorcher score:🌶️🌶️

Dieter Bravo - very similar to Javier Peña, except the text he sends is all in emojis... “🍆 💦 🍑 ❓🥺” scorcher score:🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Choose your first date! It's a tough one but... gun to my head, I think I'm going with Frankie.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2024: October 17th

Day 17: Squirting // Dom - Sub // Period Sex

Max Phillips x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Vampirism, menstrual blood, oral while bleeding, mentions of menstrual cups/free bleeding, vaginal sex, slow sex, mentions of cramping

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“One more day.” Max’s beaming smile is smug and almost predatory. He slides up to you and wraps his arm around your waist to pull you against him. “One more glorious day and then you will be my little drip coffee maker again.” 

You roll your eyes, but that doesn’t phase Max in the least. Starting tomorrow, it’s his favorite week of the month. Your period. 

Being a vampire has one unique advantage over everyone else that has ever dated you. He doesn't mind the blood that comes with your cycle. He loves it, craves it. It’s like Christmas coming every single month.

“It’s going to be great.” He promises. “We are working from home again, so you don’t even need to worry about wearing that menstrual cup.” 

“You want me to just free bleed?” You snort, shaking your head and Max grins. “Why not? It’s not like you don’t have your own personal clean up crew.” He jokes. “Blood spill on aisle 4.” His voice changes like he’s talking over a loudspeaker in a store.  

“God, you’re going to be a smug asshole all week, aren’t you?” You huff, making him chuckle. “What? I’m just eager to earn my next set of red wings.” He gives you an innocent grin. “Next one and I get a free sandwich.” 

Corny jokes aside, Max Phillips is amazing during your period. You know that it’s mainly for selfish reasons, but everyone is somewhat selfish. He loves fucking you while you’re on your period, eating you out and everything in between. 

“Roast beef?” You ask dryly, making him snort and throw his head back to laugh at your joke. “The rarer the better.” He quips, shrugging slightly. “I like them dripping.” 

You blow out a sigh, shaking your head again and he sends you a small pout and leans closer. “You know, we could see if we could get it started earlier.” He poses slyly. 

“You think sex will make my period start sooner?” He shrugs and lifts his brows. “Only one way to find out.” 

“Dear God.” 

****

You wake up to him naked, grinning down at you. “Are you ready?” He waggles his brows and you can’t help but laugh. “Jesus Max.” 

“What? You are bleeding now. I want to get one in before the cramps start.” He is right, your cramps are a bitch, and sex does help. But you roll your eyes and shove your hand into his face to push him away. 

Max laughs, knowing that you are saying yes and he’s eager. He loves period sex. He loves the extra lubrication and knowing that he will taste your blood later, but there is something about wearing your blood on his cock. If it wasn’t unhygienic, he would leave it there but you won’t let him do that. One day he’s going to just cover himself in your period blood like some kind of camouflage and tell you that he’s going on a killing spree. Murdering your vagina.

Somehow, this crazy, annoying, surprisingly sweet vampire has managed to get a towel up under you before you even woke up. In typical Max Phillips fashion, it’s blood red. It’s huge, making sure that if he rolls you around, you still won’t stain the satin sheets on the bed. Also blood red. He has a theme and he’s completely unashamed of it. 

Despite being eager, Max doesn’t rush things, thoroughly enjoying his head being between your legs and pouting again when you have to push his head away because he is too eager to keep lapping at your slit. 

You don’t kiss him, but Max grins at you, licking his lips happily as settles between your thighs. “It’s magically delicious.” He coos, making you groan at his corny jokes. 

He’s lucky he’s hot and he knows how to fuck. That’s what you are thinking as he starts to push inside you. Thick and long, he feels incredible as he fills you. You love the way he scrubs against your overly sensitive walls. 

This same man who has been so eager to get this party started, takes his time filling you up, rolling his hips as he pushes deep. His eyes are serious for once, watching you as he does, making sure that you have no pain. He secretly hates when you are in pain. He can’t stand it. It’s one of the reasons why he loves fucking you during your period. 

That slow rhythm is what you need, the steady rocking into you, the friction and heat of him - vampires actually run hot and not icy cold like the myths tell you - soothes you. Making you sigh and moan in pleasure. 

Being a vampire, he doesn’t have to pause, doesn’t have to catch his breath. He can keep up the pace indefinitely, wearing you out and making you cum again and again. He just keeps rocking into you, whispering pure filth in your ear and making you forget about anything else but him and the way he feels inside you. 

You don’t know how long he spends fucking you. You know that it’s hours. The light filling the house brightens as the sun comes up, making his eyes narrow against the rays. Vampires aren’t allergic to sunlight, their eyes are super sensitive. It’s why he always wears sunglasses outside. Still he doesn’t stop. 

The pressure of his cock pushes the cramps away, keeping the pain at bay. Making pleasure burst through your body again and again, adding to the slickness that he moves through so easily. 

“Oh you are perfect,” Max coos in your ear, chuckling. “My perfect little Sunday sauce,” you groan at his new little nickname. He always comes up with new things to call you, all of them corny. 

“Shut up, Max.” You huff, pushing at his shoulder but he just grins at you. Winking and flashing his fangs once more. 

“You know you love it, snookums.” He teases, twitching inside you to make you moan. “Just think, only six more days of this.” It’s a promise and a threat in your mind, but you know that he will never be afraid to fuck you through your cycle. Period sex doesn’t frighten a vampire. It’s his version of a good time. 

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐀 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐗𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒.

DAY TWELVE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: vampire court au + "forever isn't long enough for me to forgive you."

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader, max phillips x oberyn, max phillips x reader x oberyn

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, enemies to lovers

summary: after you left the court and hence Oberyn, no one is eager to forgive you for your betrayal. Especially those closest to you.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: everyone's a vampire including reader, orgies, voyeurism, mlm, threesome, sub!max, switch!reader, dom!oberyn, this is hella explicit btw so read accordingly, rimming, ass play, anal sex (oberyn x max), piv (max x reader), biting, mild mention of blood because vampires

a/n: and this concludes the last day of haunted hoedown! thank you for joining in everyone, I appreciate it! (also this was normally just supposed to be oberyn and reader but oh well, gotta go big am I right?)

Your steps echo down the hall, the ends of your dress trailing behind you, swiping against shiny marble. You’ve hated coming back here. Hated seeing the pity and the mockery in the eyes of the rest of the court. But you had no choice. You knew Oberyn would take you back, in a sick twist of faith, you did belong to him after all. He was a part of you as much as you were a part of him. He had looked at you with anger, betrayal. In a similar fashion, he too had thought you’d left for selfish purposes but it was so much more than that. 

So much more. 

Now you’re basically the errand girl despite your status. You were made to be a guardian. A protector. Lords began to turn humans for this sole purpose. When a human is turned, they are more loyal to the vampire that turned them. The bond would be strong which made most of them lay down their lives for the one who turned them, the one that gave them eternal life. However, like many things, there was a catch: the vampire had to save the human before turning them. It could be from something minimal or something grand, the grander the threat, the more passionate the new vampire would be to protect. 

Of course higher vampires didn’t really care, they just wanted guardians. With time they began to cause the threats that would require the human to be saved themselves. It was a scummy thing to do, but there were no rules dictating otherwise. 

Oberyn was different. You would know, he was the one that had turned you. 

He actually saved his humans, be it from psychological harm or physical, he saved them and gave them a choice. They could live out their lives however they pleased, they didn’t have to be guardians. And despite the choice, they all stayed. Oberyn provided protection, pleasure, and eternal life. 

So everyone stayed. 

Everyone except for you. 

You stand still at the lord’s quarters. You don’t need to see to know what’s happening on the other side. Lustful moans, the sound of skin smacking against skin—sinful sounds that set a wildfire between your legs. You haven’t been touched since you left, your body remembers his touch, how he would linger and taste. . . 

You inhale a sharp breath and knock—loudly. 

“The door is open.” 

Oberyn. He sounds disinterested already. 

You push the large doors open and the sight before you is exactly what you expected. 

Men and women kissing, sucking, fucking. They’re all lost in the pleasure, their moans mixing and becoming a beautiful melody. Your nipple grows tight at the sight, your legs slightly buckling under your weight. 

Oberyn, of course, is playing with his favorite toy. Max Phillips. The younger vampire is sitting between Oberyn’s spread legs, his cock wrapped with the lord’s fingers. They both gaze upon you at the same time, one cold and one heated—though the warmth of that gaze has nothing to do with you and has everything to do with the fist around his length.

Max smiles crookedly, a puff of air escaping his lips as his hips thrust into Oberyn’s fists. The lord’s eyes drop to his lover’s, lips curling with amusement, “Needy.”  

His eyes harden when you clear your throat, “What do you want?” he asks, tone dripping venom. “I am busy, as you can probably tell.” 

“I’ve been informed to tell you the meeting for tonight is rescheduled for tomorrow.” he shoots you a glare and you add. “My lord.” 

You hate calling him that. He never made you call that before, Max also didn’t call him that. It just proved to everyone that you were now nothing but an outsider within your home. Your heart drops. You always hated being an outcast. 

Oberyn’s hand stills on Max’s cock and the latter whines pathetically into the air, a bead of precome trickling down his length and over Oberyn’s knuckles. You meet his gaze. He gazes at you for a second later before commanding the rest to leave. If they’re startled, they don’t show it—they just move the party elsewhere, leaving only you, Oberyn, and Max. 

The younger vampire makes way to leave but Oberyn stops him, “Stay,” he murmurs, dragging his lips down his neck. Max shudders, his cock twitching eagerly. 

You swallow as Oberyn approaches you, his body bare and cock jutting darkly between his legs. You focus your gaze on his face and find it hard not to look down. His smile is mischievous, “You look troubled,” he says. 

“I’m not, my lord,” you add a bit more attitude this time, prompting the raise of his brows. You notice Mac looking towards you curiously, his back against the headboard of the rather large bed. 

“You do understand you brought this upon yourself, do you not?” he says. “I do not enjoy punishing my subjects unless it is for pleasure. You were free and you chose to betray me instead.” 

In your defense, you wouldn’t exactly call what you did a betrayal. 

“I understand.” 

He’s irritated. You can tell by the way his jaw twitches, “Forever isn't long enough for me to forgive you,” he spits out, angry. This time you do look away, feeling too much all at once. “Not only did you leave after your oath, you left to join another court,” he seers. “And then when they throw you to the street what do you do? Come crawling back with your tail between your legs. You took advantage of my kindness and the peace of this court. Pathetic.” 

It all happens in the blink of an eye. Your anger flares, overtakes every fiber of your being, and before you know it the flat of your palm connects with his cheek. The sound of it echoes through the chamber. From the corner of your eyes, you see Max’s eyes going wide, his body going tense as he straightens up to subdue you if need be.  

Your slap hadn’t done much to Oberyn. It had simply resulted in a slight turn of his head, the lack of effect you have on him angers you further, and you attempt to smack him again—

However, as unaffected as he might be, he doesn’t allow it. 

You grit your teeth at the way he holds your wrist, his fingers too tight around your bone. You attempt to snatch your arm back but he doesn’t allow that either, he flashes you his fangs, eyes momentarily turning purple before resuming their warm brown color. 

“Careful there little fox, you don’t want to be angering my favorite guardian now, would you?” 

Your eyes snap to Max who is now standing, a sheet loosely wrapped between his waist. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t look angry only worried. 

Once more you pull your hand to break free of your hold but the effort only makes him smile, showing your fangs, you hiss. “Let go of me, Oberyn.” 

He lets go of the fact that you used his name. 

“Why so angry all of a sudden?” he rolls his tongue over every syllable. “Did you not leave? Did you not go and work for the court who murdered my sister? Do not expect forgiveness.” the pink of his tongue moves over his bottom lip. “I was sad when you left. And when I grow sad. . . I grow angry.” 

“I did not have a choice!” your voice booms against the walls, startling both him and Oberyn, taking advantage of it, you snatch your hand away. “You do not know what’s it like to have a bond you cannot control, to be tethered to you in a way that I would lay down my life for you. He does,” you point at Max, his lips are tight, his gaze hard. You look back to Oberyn. “But you do not. It overwhelmed me Oberyn. I was scared of it. I was scared of feeling so much so suddenly and left because of it. They were the only court that would take me in. No one else dared.” you hiss out. “I did not enjoy it. I did not revel in the fact of being away from my home—from you. I was thrown away because they noticed I purposefully caused more harm than good.” 

His lips part but you don’t allow him to say anything, “You do not get to call me pathetic. Especially since you do not know how it feels to be us.” 

Your heart rams against your chest, your breath coming in short, quick pants. You have no idea what comes after this. Do you leave? Do you say something else? Do you apologize? Your thoughts are a hurricane, scattered and constantly spinning. 

Oberyn’s gaze lingers a second longer before turning around and heading to the bed, “Very well,” he says, pulling Max back between his legs. “Come and join us, little fox. You want to, I saw it in your eyes when you first came in.” 

Your mouth opens, closes, and then opens back up again, “Is that all you have to say?” 

Oberyn’s hands move down the inside of Max’s thighs, he still seems on edge but melts when he squeezes his plump flesh. A fresh wave of arousal dampens the fabric of your underwear. 

“You should have told me before you left,” he says and kisses Max’s neck before he continues. “I would have tended to you, make the process easier. I would have looked after you. I know how hard your. . . previous life was. However, I still can not fully forgive you for leaving to work with them. No matter how much chaos you might have caused there. That will take time. But. . . in the meanwhile,” Oberyn suddenly grips Max is jaw, forcing the other’s gaze onto you. He slips two fingers into his mouth and Max sucks greedily, the sheets falling away from his waist. “You may resume being my guard again. This one. . . this one has missed you greatly.” 

Heat blossoms all over the expanse of your skin, your arousal growing as Max averts his eyes, “Has he now?” you mutter, knowing that they both heard you cristal clearly. Oberyn’s grin is predatory. 

“He has,” Oberyn roughly jerks Max’s cock and he moans around the thick fingers in his mouth. “Look how aroused he gets with you watching, such a good boy.” 

Max’s hips jerk and a loud whine rattle in his throat, Oberyn only cackles, “Tell her.” he commands as he pulls out his fingers. 

“I am not telling her that,” Max says, the first words you’ve heard him speak of since you entered the chamber. “Just because you are eager to forgive and forget doesn’t mean I have to.” 

“Such a brat,” Oberyn hisses, eyes finding yours. “Well, I guess you need to make him forgive you,” he teases. “I would start by sucking his cock.” 

Max’s lips split into a wide smile, “That might work.” 

You fight against the urge to roll your eyes, your lips tug in a half smile, your heart feeling light and playful. Both of their eyes eat you up as you drop your charcoal dress to the floor. Max’s cock twitches repeatedly within Oberyn’s palm, eager to feel your lips. You share his enthusiasm as you climb the bed. The sheets soft like velvet under your knees. 

“You want me to suck your cock?” you tease and pry away Oberyn’s fingers. Max doesn’t say a word, lips shut tight as he pushes himself back further into Oberyn’s chest. The lord grins. He teases the sensitive skin between Max’s ear with his fangs. “If you don’t tell me I can’t give you what you want.” 

He snarls, “Yes, I want you to suck my cock,” then he adds with a smug grin. “I’ve missed seeing you gag around it princess.” 

You try very hard to hide how his words affect you but it’s for naught. His grin only widens at the sight of your very visible shudder. When you drop your gaze to his torso, he quickly forces your gaze back up by sneaking two fingers under your chin. He holds your gaze only for a moment before sliding his hand to the back of your neck and pushing you down. 

You slide your tongue underneath as you take him into your mouth. You’ve forgotten how much you had to part your lips to wrap your lips around him. Max groans loudly, thrusting shallowly between your lips. 

“Does that feel good, pet?” Oberyn asks Max. “You’ve missed that eager mouth a lot, huh?” 

Max makes an affirmative sound and presses his lips against Oberyn’s, you hear both their moans as they devour each other, tongues lacing together in a messy claim of mouths. 

You take him further down your throat and pull back, Max breaks the kiss with a gasp and looks down. He watches you with blown eyes, his brows furrowing with pleasure as you allow a sting of spit to fall to the slit. Oberyn continuously decorates the other’s neck with fleeting kisses, soothing his nerves. Your eyes fluttering but not closing, you push his cock to his pelvis and lick the skin that leads to his hole. A choked moan rips from his throat and you head Oberyn shushing him immediately after. 

Stroking his cock, you press your lips against his cute little hole and trace the rim with the tip of your tongue. He follows the movements of your tongue, inching closer, whimpers of your name fall one by one, you fight the urge to touch yourself and instead, you push your tongue inside. 

“F—Fuck,” he gasps. “Shit shit— that feels so good, don’t stop—” 

You smile as you force your tongue deeper, Oberyn chuckles, “You never get this desperate with me,” he says sounding almost jealous. His next words are directed at you. “Get him wet and ready for me.” 

You hum with approval, spitting again before pressing your mouth. Max ruts into your tight fist, whining and groaning as you prepare him for Oberyn. You feel his hand in your hair, his needy tugs while he attempts to both push you away and pull you closer. You squeeze his thighs, thrust your tongue deeper into him. 

His back arches and his body shakes, parting away, you look at him through heavy lashes. Max looks at you with a hooded gaze, swimming in lust, he only understands the look you’re giving him when you slowly open your mouth and show your fangs, “I missed the taste of you on my tongue,” you say, breath hitching. 

Oberyn looks at you with interest and amusement, his gaze quickly moves to Max. 

He blinks heavily, lips parting, he spreads his legs further, giving you a delicious view of his flesh, “Go ahead,” he murmurs. 

You accept the invitation gleefully. You kiss the inside of his thigh before grazing the sharp edges of your teeth against it. Only those who truly care to sink their teeth into one another because it is done out of choice, not hunger. You lick the salt of his skin before biting in, you feel the puncture of skin and flesh against your teeth, the flood of warm blood trickling down your throat. Max shudders, with the corner of your eyes you see him burrowing into Oberyn’s neck who is holding him tightly as you swallow. 

Max tastes sweet. He always has, despite his sometimes unagreeable personality. Warm blood trickles from the corner of your lips, down your throat, he kisses and nips at Oberyn’s strong neck. 

When you part, you’re whole again.��

“Come here,” Oberyn mutters and without waiting, he grabs you by the neck and crashes your lips together. He slides his tongue over yours, tasting Max, he swallows the moans you make. Meanwhile, Max’s fingers trace between your wet folds, swirl around your clit. He bites the top swell of your breast and you flinch, yet leans into the sharp pain at the same time. 

“I want you so bad,” Max groans between swallows. “You taste so sweet.” 

“Do you want him to fuck you?” Oberyn asks against your lips. He already knows the answer but you nod helplessly. “Let us switch places then.” 

You lay down where the two were sitting not moments ago. Max settles between your legs and as he does you still feel the throb caused by his fangs above your breast. He leans in quickly, as if you might vanish into the night, and claims your lips, tasting himself, you, and Oberyn on your tongue. 

“Gonna fuck you so good,” he says with a slurred speech. “Gonna fuck you so good that you’re never gonna leave again.” 

Your heart sinks a little further down your chest, beating painfully at his words. You nod because you don’t know what else to say or do. The heft of his cock lays heavy over the softness of your stomach. You arch your back gently, wishing to see his face twisting with pleasure instead of bitterness. It works, it must have because, at the graze of your skin, his lips part with a gasp. 

“She won’t,” Oberyn answers instead. “I think our little fox learned her lesson about leaving.” 

You swallow thickly and nod. You fear that maybe forgiveness is most certainly out of reach—that Oberyn could never forgive you, not truly. He drags you away from your thoughts with a touch to your lips, your eyes flutter as he slightly parts your lips and feels your fang under his finger. 

He doesn’t say anything but the gesture is enough to relax your guilt-ridden heart. Oberyn’s gaze shifts to Max’s back. He makes a show of spitting into his hand and jerking himself, a fresh wave of arousal wets your thighs at the sight. 

“Do you think you will be able to take me?” 

Max nods and pushes himself back to grind against his lord’s cock, “Yes,” he breathes out. 

“Good. I am feeling impatient today.” 

You watch breathlessly as Max’s face morphs into one of absolute pleasure. His brows furrow and jaw drops, face growing slack. He moans loudly only an inch away from your face, his breath fanning your heated skin. You cradle his face and pull him to your lips. You two meet in a sloppy kiss as Oberyn buries himself to the hilt. The other man shudders and gasps into your mouth, he falls into your neck. Your lips snug against his forehead, you reach between your sweaty bodies and wrap your fingers around his weeping cock, you guide it to your core, urging him to bury his cock deep into you. 

“I thought you were going to fuck me so good that I would never want to leave again, Maxy. Show me what I missed.” 

He whimpers but manages to push himself up, Oberyn keeps still as Max thrusts forward, sliding into you with ease. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. He always stretches you so thoroughly, filling you up perfectly. Max adorns your neck with kisses and soon Oberyn pulls back and pushes forward, the movement forcing Max to fuck you even deeper. 

You thread your fingers through Max’s hair and pull him closer, making sure he can kiss and suck on your neck as he thrusts into you. His hips move sloppily thanks to Oberyn pistoning from behind, the heat building quickly between your bodies as he fucks further and further into the other. Oberyn’s hands are all over Max, gripping his hips and guiding his motions as he fucks him hard. Oberyn grunts and drops down to sink his teeth into there Max’s neck meets his shoulder. Max’s hips stutter with a pitiful whine tearing from his throat. Oberyn feasts on his blood, moaning into his veins as his hips hammer into him. You can feel the sheer strength in Oberyn’s thrusts, and it only adds to the mind-numbing pleasure coursing through you.

A sudden pulse of pleasure washes over you as you clench around him, Max moans out loud. 

“Fuck baby, are you gonna come?” he nuzzles your neck and you let out an equally pitiful whine, your entire body burning, trembling, with him filling you over and over again. “Please come,” he says in a daze. “Come for me, baby, please. I want it so bad, come on my cock and I’ll fill you up so good—please please please—” 

“F—Fuck, Max—” You feel the familiar heat pooling in your stomach, your body only needed that final nudge to tumble off the edge. But Max is lost in the pleasure, only taking what he’s given. You beg for him to fuck you harder and he hears none of it, his lips pressed into your neck, inhaling your scent. Oberyn, however, knows what you need. He always does. His hands move to grip your hips as well, pulling you back against Max with each thrust.

Your skin goes taut over muscle. The sensations overwhelm you as you come with a loud cry, clenching around Max’s cock as he surprisingly follows suit, his own cries mixing with yours. 

“Look at my sweet pets,” Oberyn breathes, burying himself even deeper, pushing both you and Max together. Max chokes on a cry, his hard cock still throbbing as he spills himself into you. Your lips part wide and Oberyn sneaks two fingers between your lips, pressing them into your tongue. “Look at me as I come,” he growls as Max whines for more, his body pliant and willing. 

Oberyn groans and stills, buried deep inside Max, he finds his own release. He doesn’t break his gaze from you as he fills and fills and fills the other man. You feel him leaking as his spend trickles down and moves down your spread cunt. Your lids flutter yet, you still manage not to look away, wanting desperately to please your lord. 

“Good little fox,” he teases, pressing further one last time before pulling away. His fingers leave your mouth and Max collapses on top of you, his chest heaving as he continues to breathe heavily in post-coital bliss. 

You quickly wrap your arms around him, his cock softening inside of you, “Good boy,” you mutter. “You felt so fucking good Max, I’ve missed your cock.” 

His cock twitches with interest and he smiles, “If you continue with the dirty talk I might have to fuck you again.” 

Oberyn lays beside you and pulls you both towards his sweaty chest. Your bodies are a tangle of limbs and sweat as you all catch your breath, slowly coming down from the intense high. Max rolls off of you, sliding between you and Oberyn, but you don’t mind the loss of his warmth as Oberyn kisses you, holding you close to them both, not allowing you to pull away. 

“If you ever leave there won’t be a third time,” he says against your lips, your breath catches in his throat upon hearing the silent threat in his tone. Max presses his lips right above Oberyn’s sternum, kissing him slowly as if to calm him. Oberyn pays no mind. “Tell me you understand what I am telling you.” 

“I understand, my lord.” 

Both of them stiffen for a second before loosening up, Oberyn smiles. 

“Good.”