#bloodsucking bosses
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Polynesian Kiss - A Max Phillips One Shot
Summary: It’s that time of the month, and your period cramps force you to call in sick at work, but Max is only too keen to help you feel better. Isn’t he such a nice boss? And vampires get a bad rep, tsk, tsk…
Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)
Word Count: 4.8k-ish
Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”
Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.
Warnings/Triggers: - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/blood/menstration kink/sex whilst menstrating/oral F receiving/fingering/anal play/general vampire noms/Max is just a bloodsucking bastard and we love him for it.
NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.
I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.
Author’s Note: After rewatching Bloodsucking Bastards again, this abomination came to me. I make no apologies for it. If you’re currently suffering through your monthly woes, I feel you. Hold strong, besties.
MAIN MASTERLIST | MAX PHILLPS MASTERLIST
Enjoy! 🖤
“Hey, hotshot. How’s my best PA?”
“Max. I’m your only PA. You ate the others.” You titter with a wry smirk to him with the phone pressed to your ear.
“Guilty, as charged.” He chuckles down the phone, and it’s like you can see that razor sharp gleam as it spreads across his lips reflecting at you here, like a dazzling mirror shard that blinds as deep as it lacerates.
“Are you in the office?” You query knowing he’s a stickler for early starts, seeing as he doesn't sleep himself, but there’s a foreign commotion you can hear around him in the background.
“En route. Getting my caffeine fix. You want me to pick you up a ‘chino? Extra cream, right? My treat.” He grins down the line and it leaves prickles flooding over your skin. “Ooh, they’ve got those cinnamon swirls I like. Scandalous.” He snorts deliciously around a moan and you feel it steam between your thighs.
“No. Uh, thank you. Listen. I’m not coming in today,” you begin intrepidly.
“Oh no. We’ve got the final audit to prepare for, was counting on ya slugger… Six shots please, and a cinnamon swirl. No, make it two swirls. Fuck it. I’ll go to Pilates this week.” He merges fluidly in between conversations with you and the drive-thru window.
“Although, I already know we’ve smashed it.” Max snickers with a husky breath to you. "The stats are off the fucking wall!" He sounds as excited as a little boy who has just discovered his penis for the first time.
“So modest.” You smirk.
“Hey, my management is style is highly effective. You’ve seen the results.”
You smile faintly. “Mmhm. Nothing like the constant threat of imminent death to drive success...”
“You better believe it, honey. No, you have a nice day, champ.” You hear the sound of his electric window winding up and can imagine those hands of his bound tightly in his black leather gloves, so the sun doesn't penetrate his skin, as he reaches out through the dark window just rolled down enough for him to take his coffee order.
Driving with Max is like driving in the pitch dark constantly. Blacked out windows and the air conditioning blasting ferociously in the summer heat making his Mustang feel like an unrelenting ice box.
“What’s up, beautiful? You’re sounding verklempt.” His tone is serious now, concerned even over the masculine power roar of his engine, and it makes you melt.
“I’m uh… Not feeling too great.” You sigh, wrapping your arm around your stomach as another cramp rips through your womb.
“Oh.” You can almost hear him pout. “You got the flu or something?”
“No.” You state toneless.
“Has it happened?” His voice is lower and it sends shivers down your spine alerting your nipples to wake up into stiff, aching peaks in subjugation.
You nod even though he can’t see. “Yeah.” You whisper.
“You’re early this month.” his voice is but a low din, a growl even.
“I am?” You question, perplexed.
“Yeah. By two days.” You hear him suck in a deep breath and then click his lips. He keeps track of it better than you do. “Okay then. Get prepared. Rest. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
"Max, your meetings-" You don't have time to finish your limp protest.
"I said, I'll be there as soon as I can." He snarls darkly before making a kissy noise down the line.
You hear the phone hang up before you can argue again at how his diary today is simply too full, but he’s gone and you put yours down on the table in front of you.
You sit back, folding your arms tightly over your abdomen and sigh out waiting, your heels thudding against the floor occasionally; some automatic anxious reaction that originated from somewhere in your childhood no doubt.
A bit like biting your nails down to the skin until they're sore and tight, or shaking your knee incessantly without realising until someone yells at you to stop fucking doing that!
The first few times it had happened, it had been unpredictable - he was unpredictable.
A volatile mess that scared you the first time he was alone with you in his office; his voice leaving gnarly claws to protrude through the walls to come and get you.
Max Phillips was unlike any other man - any other boss - you’d ever known, although he wasn’t a man, not really.
There was a haunting aura about him, a distinct eeriness that hung off of his Peter Pan-esque shadow that laughed on its own, and you scoffed at first when he’d suggested it. Like it was a joke of some kind; a disgusting, unhygienic joke.
Max didn't laugh, however. He was deadly serious. Emphasis on the deadly.
But then he’d tapped into your curiosity with those wandering brown eyes and hypnotic smirks around pearly canines that had a knack of making you feel like you could walk on cotton candy clouds.
He had mutated any trepidation you'd had until you’d agreed, nodding like a puppet, and you were certain at that point there probably wasn’t anything you wouldn’t agree to where Max was concerned.
He was fucking beautiful and yet under it all, somewhat inherently terrifying.
And it turned you on so much. God, it was fucking unrelenting the way the tops of your thights now constantly stuck themselves together with your slick.
You had sensed it about him, unsure exactly what it was - what he was entirely. That dominant, toxic swagger about him, amped up on fuckboi steroids, that would cause carnage in the office, and you could never put your finger on it. The unusually high turnover of staff, the lingering stench of copper on his breath. The fact the blinds were always drawn and the air conditioning was always on, to the point you could see your breath.
You never spoke about it, none of you. Until the time he tore up the office and replaced all the bone idle employees with the walking undead and then it made perfect sense; he was a vampire, d’uh.
He said you could trust him though. He said he wouldn’t turn you, unless you wanted it - you didn't - and you believed him. He had been true to his word; he hadn’t hurt you at all - not without your express consent for him to take a little nibble on your jugular now and again anyway.
He liked it when you repelled him, made him work harder for it. Fuck, it made him so hard in his tight suit pants when you did that. Strutting around the office in your short skirts and barely-there blouses just to make him see red and chew on his tie.
He’d promoted you, although it was more of a candid expectation seeing as he’d picked his teeth clean with your predecessors.
You did in fact trust him enough to invite him into your home and let him roam unbidden and free inside it and do all those things to you that made your toes curl in the deliciously right way.
Fuck buddies with your boss. Or was it blood brothers now?
You couldn’t help but become enthralled by his spooky enthrall somewhat more and more, and was now resorting to adding this monthly rendezvous to your clandestine proclivities with him as though you had completely lost your sanity, and perhaps you had.
Max was always sharp and concise, straight to the point and no funny nonsense, ma’am. Unless you count him fucking you, bent over his desk, whilst you attempt to type up the meeting minutes as anything but serious.
He could talk his way into anything, including your cunt on a regular turn.
Somewhere inside, it made you shiver. Like something wicked and disgusting was unfurling and leaving those sharp nails to rake down your spine that make you feel sick and giddy in wanton anticipation.
It had to be something that was shameful, immoral; taboo, and yet you willingly engaged in it. You wanted it, craved it as much as he did it seemed.
You just craved him.
You take in a deep breath, the cramping that was present since it had begun in the early hours is deep and twisting in your gut, seeming to increase in its ferocity - it’s like it knows and is getting itself into an excitable tizz.
You get up and make your way upstairs ready to prepare, clutching your stomach as you go.
You run the shower in the bathroom; he likes you to be clean. Or as clean as you can be at this time of the month anyway before he dirties you up again.
Day one is always the worst - the heaviest and most painful - but the absolute best time for Max; the most important day where the blood is fresh and plentiful - when you are incredibly ripe for the plucking sweetheart, as he once put it.
You climb into the shower, washing your hair and body with fruity scents that would make his mouth salivate, and the hot, inviting water starts to soothe the incessant pang pulling inside your uterus.
There was no pain killer; Max had said it made the blood taste weird so you refrained from taking any. It would barely scrape the sides anyhow. No, the only thing that could tame it completely was him.
But at this point, after the hot water subsides, the cramps increase in their veracity. A period is the equivalent of a heavy kick in the balls to a man.
No, make that several hundred kicks in the balls, then stamping on them relentlessly.
Or, imagine someone has taken a sledge hammer to them instead; just whacking the shit out of them tirelessly.
Yeah? Well, period pain is fucking worse, buddy.
Feels like someone is twisting your insides without a let up, and then pulling them apart slowly just to spite you. Some women would tell you that child labour hurts less than menstrual cramps.
They would be fucking right about that.
I think my vagina hates me. I’m not sure what I did to piss her off…
You groan out as another cramp thunders through your core. You look down to see red spots making marble spirals around your feet in the suds, like inkblots being diluted in the water as they swill down the drain. It’s kinda pretty in an abstract way, as you’re mesmerised by those budding tulips for a while.
You clench internally at what is to come and once out of the shower, dried and dressed in a robe and a clean pair of white cotton panties - without a tampon or towel as instructed by Max, thems the rules, baby - you brush through your hair after blow drying it and wait for him to come to you.
The waiting is the worst part.
You’re sure he’ll be there in the office frantically rearranging his diary, cancelling meetings for you as he gulps desperately at his strong coffee. It curbs the cravings, he'd said after you’d queried his collection of empty six-shot espresso cups collecting in a temple on his desk with a raised eyebrow.
You gear yourself up to the point your pussy is already sopping and you're desperate to appease yourself with some release. But you never can bring yourself to, knowing that if you save it - save it all for him to have - it would be so much more sweeter.
Thinking of Max makes your clit swell and throb, that tingle that teeters on the edge of pain and makes it uncomfortable and heavy inside your panties, but the moment he would touch you, it would be worth all the edging and gnawing pressure.
You can feel yourself getting wetter down there and knowing it isn’t just all the blood makes you smile sinisterly.
When he finally arrives, he lets himself in.
You could hear him pull up in his red Mustang and the creaky squeak of the door slamming shut after that deep roar of his engine was reduced to a dying purr.
Those quick scraping footsteps of his polished leather shoes against the gravel as he plays hopscotch with the shadows out of the direct sun.
The sound of him using the key you gave him to let himself into your apartment. Inviting the monster in to come and play with your guts and offals.
You had to invite him in the first time. Laughing as he physically couldn't cross the threshold of your door without verbal invitation. Like there was an actual barrier there. Now, he comes and goes as he pleases.
Sometimes, in the dead of the night, you would wake to find him pawing at you; fangs and cock bared. He takes from you whenever he wants, and you always let him.
Goose bumps flood all over your body and tingles run tightly across your scalp in suspense.
As he rounds the stairs up to your door, Max can smell you already and his gut rumbles as does his loins inside his tight, navy suit pants.
Once in your apartment, he pushes the door open to your bedroom to see you lying on the duvet with a towel spread underneath you, and you're wrapped up in a fluffy robe looking a little worn and tired despite flashing your effervescent smile for him.
“Hey,” you beam at him and he shuts the bedroom door behind him with a gentle click.
He’s holding a small posy of flowers and it makes you smile that the vampire is a little bit of a sentimental doof under it all.
He stands there watching you and keeps his distance for a few moments as you shuffle upright; a hot water bottle is revealed to him that's tucked inside the folds of your gown resting against your stomach to quell the pain.
“Are those for me?” You ask, as he puts them in the vase on your dresser, discarding the old ones that are slightly withered now into the trash can.
They are pink and bulbous and always a token of affection in thanks for what he is about to do to you. But you don’t see it as a quid pro quo at all. You want this just as much as he does. The peonies are just a pretty bonus.
Max nods at you and smiles thinly through his pink lips.
“How you feeling, baby?” He queries. He loosens his tie and then slides it out from under the shirt collar completely and tucks it into his back pants pocket.
“I’ve been better.” You say.
“I can smell it.” He sighs, smirking. "Pungent. Mmm."
You nod slowly. “I know.”
“Show me.” He instructs, removing his suit jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves to reveal tan arms. An unusual trait for a vampire, you think.
You remove the hot water bottle and plonk it on the floor by the bed and untie your gown, slipping it off over your shoulders. Puffy nipples that were embedded asleep inside your warm areolas greet him and he stares like a letch at them, licking his lips.
You rest back on your elbows with your knees drawn up and he zones in on the damp, bloody patch that has seeped through your cotton panties peeking back at him between your ankles.
Incredibly exposed before him - the most intimate you could ever be with him - you're spread vulnerable and showing him exactly what he's after as you part your legs. The red patch is soaking into your panties like a flower slowly blooming and opening up just for him.
You pull your panties up by the waist band, using them as reins as you rub them against yourself, smearing it in further. He watches with a thick smirk as you moan and pant at the feel of them grazing against your engorged clit.
It feels fucking delicious.
“Take them off,” Max directs with a hiss between his teeth, lying his jacket down on the chair by your dresser after folding it neatly.
You shimmy them down slowly and hold them out to him. His long, thick fingers snatch them from your hands and immediately they go to his nose.
He sniffs in deep and his eyes roll into the back of his head leaving just the whites, before he puts the crotch of them inside his mouth and sucks deeply against the damp, stained cotton.
A desperate catch in the back of his throat he can all but choke on, sounds out of him like a wolf howling at the moon as he growls out in satisfaction.
The taste of your syrupy fluids and blood dancing over his tongue in a delightfully salty-chrome tango, is firing his synapses and setting his whole body alight.
He’s barely holding it together as you notice him visibly shaking.
“O-open your legs,” he growls menacingly through his mouthful, peering down at you and fighting to stave off his other face from making an appearance - his true face that he knows unnerves you. You do as he instructs, desperate to please your marauding boss.
You watch as he shudders more and sucks greedily at your panties, arousing you further as he stares at your glistening, ruby soaked cunt with eyes turning more jet by the second.
Max clocks the sanguine vision of you spread before him on the bed, making his mouth salivate and his fangs ache to protrude fully. He blinks away the red mist descending upon him and swallows through a now tightly constricted throat.
He puts the panties inside his jacket pocket for safekeeping and kneels on the end of the bed, crawling up it like an ominous spider creeping towards you.
"All for me," he purrs with a devilish grin.
He runs his lips against your knee and up your thigh as he descends upon you. His teeth catch on your nipple making you gasp before his tongue soothes it with a wet pop out of his mouth.
He takes your wrists and pulls you down towards him, positioning you just right so you are lying fully supine now; the towel is still spread out underneath you, not that you’ll need it.
He’ll make sure to get every last drop of you.
“Come here, you.” He growls and cold mist is pouring out of his mouth onto your body. "Going to eat you the fuck up."
Max can smell it; see the glistening claret shine around your pussy lips sparkling at him, and that plumpy clit growing and swelling out of the hood of your skin desperate for a good lick.
Droplets of crimson fluid bead at your entrance and a couple had rolled down your skin towards your ass leaving a delicious track for him to devour.
It’s darker in colour around your sodden hole and the iron rich smell is driving him crazy, his jaw twitching and cracking. “There’s so much,” he says with keen appraisal. “Does it hurt?”
Max runs his hand up your leg and rests it on your abdomen; his palm splayed across it like a giant starfish swamping your navel, and feeling the coolness emanate from it as it's absorbed into your skin makes you whine with need.
His healing hand soothing you as he presses onto you a little with his weight and it's those small gestures like this from him that make it all better to endure through the pain somehow.
That make you believe you could mean something more to him than just being a walking, talking bloodbag.
You nod and bite your lip as his fingertips feel like they throb and burn on your skin’s surface despite their cold.
“I’ll make it all better, baby.” Max assures. And you know he will - he always does.
His dark, now almost fully black eyes, flick down to your sopping slit as he shifts, and he cranes his head forward a little, licking up the length of your seam slowly with a flat, pressed tongue.
The taste of you floods his taste buds and senses immediately like he’s just shot up.
You throw your head back taking in a deep, heavy hit of oxygen. The feel of his cool breath against you and the slither of his serpent tongue leave electric sparks flooding through your veins.
"Mmm, Max..." You shiver and grin.
His hand is still on your stomach, thumb stoking in little circles below your belly button; his other reaching towards your centre where his long fingers are sliding and probing against the edges of your sodden slit.
Max runs his index finger along the fleshy ribbons of your folds that are dyed a deep, entrancing scarlet. He would go to push it inside your tasty well and then pull away, teasing you.
“Mmm,” you moan, your body squirming and flinching under him.
“Easy, sweetheart.” Max simmers, smirking.
He knows what he's doing when he winds your body up like this. With that darned smile he can get away with anything and you both fucking know it as it slithers across his face like a snake about to attack its prey ferociously.
“Please,” you whine. "Don't tease me, not today."
“You’re so fucking cute when you’re needy.” He soothes and plants a little kiss just above your clit making you groan further in frustration. He pouts and makes his voice a little squeaky. "You like that, baby? Hmm? Like it when I tease your little, needy pussy like this?"
"Max, please!" You growl this time. "Just fucking eat me."
He snickers and pats onto your pussy before rubbing his fingers all in it, knocking against your hard clit through the squelches, and running the pads all over those fleshy, swollen lips. Finger painting inside the rich red that coats them making them shiny like latex, before putting them inside his gluttonous mouth.
Max groans out as he sucks and licks each of them clean, savouring the metallic taste and dipping in again and again before he presses his lips to your sex finally to feast.
"Oh shit!" You simper.
You feel his tongue dart in and out in quick succession and the flesh on your legs dissolve. He removes his hand from your stomach and spreads your lips with his thumbs, opening you up for him and running his tongue in your wet slick, flicking back and forth across the hard nub of your spongy clit.
“Fuck,” you whine seeing stars and feeling the heat simmering in your lower abdomen start to boil.
He sucks and gnaws on it; slurping loudly around it and pulling it between his pert lips before letting it go, sending your body erratic and writhing under his expert touch.
“Max...” You groan out utterly beside yourself.
“Say my name, baby. Let me hear you.” Max coerces with a mirthy chuckle and suckles on it again, pinching his teeth around it and watching you lose your shit every time.
“Oh fuck, Max!” You wail as your back arches and your pussy spasms. “Feels so fucking good.”
“Tastes so good,” he confirms. "Want to devour you," he grunts darkly at you. The skin on his face darken a little, his muscles and features changing shape; shadows becoming more prominent.
"Eat me all up?" You squeak, your fingers gripping tight around the duvet.
"Until there's nothing left of you." His voice changes; it's deeper, more throatier and you know the vampire within is awake and stirring now. "Gonna rip this cunt open!"
Your right thigh judders uncontrollably as he polishes that pearl with his tongue; flicking back and forth with acute speed and bringing your first come session of the day so easily.
Growling and grunting loudly as he feasts on you with unhurried abandon. His grip on your skin is harder and you can see the strain whitening his knuckles as he fights to hold back from fully vamping out.
"Oh fuck!" You keen, shaking and tensing.
He watches, his dark eyes flicking up as his mouth stays firmly clamped to your slit, as your breasts jiggle and your nipples are as hard as diamonds.
Your whole body jolts and jerks hard before you flatline under him when you can take no more.
You’re stunned, smashed around the head with gold stars, and panting as your focus shifts back to his creeping shadow between your legs after being blind and boneless.
Your face is all red; nipples swollen as you come wildly in his plundering mouth.
You watch him with blown out pupils mouthing all over your pussy; clit pulsing under his thrashing tongue and ready for more as you feel it start to tighten and cinch again.
"Mm-maax!" You groan. It's so senitive, so plump and swollen. So... delicious.
Smirking, Max curls his middle two fingers into your soaked, scarlet entrance and laps up his reward; your blood, your come, smearing around his lips messily, like trying to apply lipstick on a rollercoaster.
He fucking loves it.
"You wanna come again?" He taunts darkly through a raspy smirk.
He hums out in satisfaction as he drinks more from you greedily, sticking his tongue in further and further to get more from that sodden inkpot that feels like it’s gushing constantly for him now.
He pushes your legs up by the backs of your thighs, opening you up and licking down your gooch towards that puckered urchin of your ass hole, where a lusty mix of his saliva, the blood and your pussy slick had dripped down it creating a wonderful cocktail that he would get drunk on happily, all day.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m having a reeeally good time.” He slurps menacingly. “So glad I cancelled that meeting with the Bordstein Group. Mmm, fuck.”
Your neck cricks up at him. "Wait. You cancelled it? They were hard bastards to pin down..." You whine as he laps against your ass hole and pushes the tip through your rim. "Oh, that's so good, Max. Oh Jesus..."
"You can re-arrange it. It's cool." He shrugs, his mouth full of you.
"You make it sound easy. Pete is a - oh fuck, yeessss - a-a busy man."
"Look, if he wants a collaboration, he'll make time." Max snorts. "You can sweet talk him, baby. Now shut up and give me another one." He smooshes you further into his mouth with a quick yank of your hips upward.
You yelp and chortle waspily as he dives back in. He runs his tongue around the sticky rim of your ass and slathers around it before sliding his index finger in as he works his mouth back towards your bloodied snatch, clamping around it once more as he drinks you down.
He finger fucks your tight hole as he eats out your trembling cunt, and he can feel you clench around his finger as he invades your butt deeper.
“Relax,” Max soothes you, his teeth stained pink and clamps right back onto that messy muff.
He slips in another wet finger and fills up your ass to the knuckles, sucking on your clit again.
“Oh fuck!” You flop down onto the pillow, getting a neck ache from craning to look at him and just succumb to the blooming feeling inside your ass, completely distracting you now from the cramps altogether. A wonderful placebo to occupy you as Max fucks you up sideways with that dangerous hot mouth of his.
He smears his tongue around, mopping you up and getting as much of you as he can; sucking you dry and clean before he would dart into your pussy hole and tease out more that you had to offer.
All the while he keeps his fingers inside your ass, curling and pumping as he watches your thighs tremble and pulsate around the sides of his head.
He marvels at how your body reacts to him without him having to use his enthrall; you submit to him wholly and he loves it.
With a gooey, slick smile, Max laps at your pussy hungrily again and again like a rabid dog as you start to come apart at the seams once more.
“Oh God!” You call out, gripping hold of the duvet and pulling at it tightly as your body contorts and bucks against his face. You can feel another orgasm building and twisting your spine out of shape.
“God isn’t going to help you, sweetheart,” Max confirms before he chews on your clit once more and lets you explode again. "The Devil on the other hand..."
“Oh, I can’t, I can’t-” You’re quaking now, the pleasure doing an absolute number on you and he keeps his tongue on your sensitive clit. You can see flashes behind your eyelids; feel your body contort and pulse. “Maa-hax!”
“You can,” he encourages as he flicks across your nub hard with a fast, busy tongue. “Come in my mouth, baby. Give it all to me.”
And you do.
"AaaahhhohGodpleasepleaseMax!”
You arch your back, trying to get away from his mouth, the wonderful feeling becoming too much; you’re drowning, unable to breathe and so fucking dizzy, but he presses down on your stomach again holding you in place so you can’t scarper away.
"Oh fuuucck!"
He forces you to confront it, to accept it and drown in that tidal wave as it crashes over your head and pulls you under. Your ears are ringing and your toes are breaking.
“Fuck me, Max...” You plead, gasping and burning at him as you resurface. “I want you to fuck me.”
“You want me to fuck you hard?” He replies, teasing you.
“Please, just cover your cock in me.” You gasp as he draws up and unzips his pants.
He pulls himself out, thick and hard and leaking pre-cum as he pumps a few times before lining himself up against you. He wastes no time in giving you what you crave.
You grip onto him, his shirt twisting in your vice-like grip as he sinks his cock inside you and begins thrusting, hard, just like you want it.
He feels you squeezing around him almost immediately as he rips through you, sending you erratic and spiralling and coming so forcefully around his dick quickly, that your body goes rigid and shakes as though possessed.
“Yeah, like that!” He coos at you, growling. He bears his teeth, grunting as he power fucks into you. "There you go, baby. Love it when I destroy this pretty cunt, don't you?"
“Maa-hax, fu-uu-ck!” You cry out; your voice being battered out of your throat, releasing uncontrollably and panting wildly.
It’s so wet between your legs that every thrust squelches obscenely.
“What huh, you want me to stop? I don’t think you want that.” He growls. Once more his face shifts, his fangs are out fully now.
You shake your head, gasping hard through a dry throat. You grip onto him as his face lwers closer to yours, the vampire breaking through.
You whimper and squeak through your pants.
“You want me to stop?” Max prompts again as he eases his grip, slows his pace with smooth, deep strokes; another tempo just as easily fucking you up again.
You can feel him so deeply inside you as he drives his hips forward; his body crushing yours like a hydraulic press into the mattress.
You can see he's fighting to stay fully in control as his human face reappears from under the dark lines and brow ridges.
“No, don’t stop,” you choke as your body fizzes like fireworks. “Please… More.” You whine, losing your breath as he fucks it right out of your lungs until you can no longer form coherent words around your tongue and you’re left babbling.
“That’s right; you don’t want it to stop, do you? Such a fucking slut for my cock. Letting me fuck you whilst you're bleeding all over it." Max croons into your neck and you can feel his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin there. "So fucking nasty, baby."
Fisting through his hair, you grip him tight as his hips snap into yours with vigour. “Not even breaking out into a sweat.” Max taunts inside your ear. “I can keep this up all day. In fact, I think I just might.”
“Oh God, fuck.” You mewl.
"Want to drink you again. Let me?" Max presses his tongue over that juicy vein in your neck.
"Yeah," you pant as he gathers your hair away from the side of your neck. "Not too much-"
"I know," he croons. "Just a drop or two. You can take it."
Sharp stings are felt on your throat as he tastes you there too, puncturing the skin and swallowing you down.
It’s a heady feeling as he drinks; the niggly pain soon dissipating and making you see bokeh stars behind your eyelids.
The pull is sumptuous, dreamy. Comforting as your eyes flutter shut and you sink into the serene peace his immortal kiss offers.
“Fucking delicious,” he smirks as he runs his mouth up the side of your cheek; his hot, blood stained breath left to condensate inside your ear canal.
Growling and rabid, Max pulls out and slides down your body and licks up your oozy slit again, tasting you and smearing the bloody and sticky pulp across his lips.
"You’re such a good little PA for me. You take it so well every time.” He praises, pushing his fingers into your pussy once more and rooting around inside of you. "Going to give you more, baby. I know you've got more for me. And I'm nowhere near full yet."
He strokes your cushiony insides that are sodden and plump and allow him to slide in and out with ease. You still feel tight and bound from your orgasms, but he's able to bring about another one that leaves you caterwauling for him again.
He’s the conductor and you his orchestra, making sweet music to his ears whilst he faps and eats you out and then some for hours, until the day is bleached away into the encroaching twilight outside.
His stamina destroys you, bruises your bones as he fucks you over and over until you think you’ll never be able to walk again.
And when he eventually comes, with a deep throaty howl that seems to vibrate through the whole building and cracks your neighbour's window panes, spilling himself wholly inside of you, he sucks it all out with the blood and swallows it down, remaining rock hard until he does it all over again. And again.
And a-fucking-gain.
“Hmm... love this pussy,” Max confirms, suckling gently at your over-sensitive bud and you’re beside yourself with the intense rapture of it all.
Boneless mush. A drooling mess. Crying and wailing for more, pumped full of sequinned delirium.
By the time he’s finished feasting on you, you’re utterly exhausted and barely able to keep your eyes open.
Max spends time cleaning you up. Licking around your inner thighs and filling up on all the spots he might’ve missed.
Fawning, delicate. The vampire is fully satiated for now.
He walks over to your dresser, running his thumb around his lips to get the crust of the dried blood over them, and his once crisp, white shirt is now a pink stained mess, like an artist who has gone berserk with his paint pots.
He pulls out a pair of clean underwear and slides them up your legs and taps your ass gently, rousing your sleepy focus back to him.
"B-12," he finger shoots at you and you nod over to the supplements on your dresser. He brings them, and a band-aid that he sticks over the bite marks on your neck, and gives it a gentle press in place.
"There, all better." He smirks darkly.
He then leans forward and kisses you on the lips. Max pushes those plumpy, blood stained lips of his onto your own and kisses you deeply, slowly.
He slides his tongue into your mouth and massages it delicately. You can taste the metallic remnants of yourself on him, taste your salty-sweet cunt all around his gums.
“See why I can’t get enough of your taste, hmm?” He murmurs around your lips as you sample yourself on him with mounting fervour.
He’s right, you do taste good.
Max groans into your mouth as you clutch at the back of his head hungrily and wanting more, despite your battered body yelling at you to rest. He falters again, sliding forward on the bed and gripping you tightly into his body.
You can feel the bulge of his still solid cock poking you in the gut, and you reach down to give him a rub and a gentle squeeze before he removes your hand and strokes your fingers inside of his stained ones.
God, he's like walking viagra. Constantly fucking hard. Well, he is dead. Technically the term is rigor-mortis...
“The things I still want to do to you..." he utters with a low grunt. "But you need sleep.” He purrs gently, smoothing down your frayed hair.
“Stay,” you whimper as he pulls away.
“Can’t tonight, baby. Got lots to catch up on. You’ve kept me busy all day. Going to have to pull an all-nighter.”
“Oops.” You smile dreamily at him.
“Oops.” Max remarks with a dangerous grin. “You think you’ll be in tomorrow? Could really use your support with the audit.”
You nod. “I’m feeling better already.”
“Good.” He smiles and kisses you once more. “Rest up. Tomorrow I’m going to fuck you in the supply closet from eleven til half-twelve. I'll send you a meeting invite.” He smirks as he pulls down and buttons his cuffs.
The noise that comes out of you in response makes him chuckle darkly.
Holy fuck…
Max pulls away from you, slipping out of your grip, leaving you to settle on the bed as he gathers his jacket. He pulls your bloodied panties out and gives them a sniff as he winks at you.
You can only imagine what he's going to do with them later.
He leaves the bedroom and you hear him let himself out.
You collapse back on the bed, somewhat bereft, hearing his car start up with that familiar deep roar.
It fades away down the street and takes any sense of conscious thought you have with him.
Rolling over and reaching for the B-12, you sigh out with a satiated smile and close your eyes thinking about the supply closest.
And the amount of times your freakishly insatiable boss, Max, has fucked you up in there already.
I really hope you enjoyed reading this Max Phillips story of mine. Just love a bit of hungry, gnarly Max, don't you? If you enjoyed what you just read, please consider re-blogging. Thank you so much! 🖤🩸
MAIN MASTERLIST | MAX PHILLIPS MASTERLIST
#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips vampire#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips#max phillips bloodsucking bastards#bloodsucking bastards#bloodsucking bosses#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#vampire max phillips#jett's writing#jett's pedro boys#pedro pascal character fics#max phillips smut#pedro pascal smut
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Ribboned pitchfork thoughts.
#oc x canon#prester virgil#daria the bloodsucker#lore stuff#yes this ship is canon in tf#I feel this might not make sense if you hc that Daria's some rude upstart who doesn't follow directions#that's not really her at all#she is for the most part an ideal employee and ideal Toon fighter#she isn't the type to fight with her bosses unless it's something truly objectionable#also tf mean 'toony follies' if that wasn't obvious
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I starting planning a DnD Oneshot to DM for people at my uni today... This is going to be wild.
#I've never DM'd before but I'm really excited about this#It;s kind of interesting because the ''boss'' of the oneshot is actually the first thing they fight hehehehe#it's the bloodsucking rose garden I talked about earlier#but this is so scary cause the guy who DMs my regular campaign wants to be a player and I'm nervous as hell that I'm gonna fuck up#morrigan.text#morrigan plays dnd#it's a wizard tower heist btw#I'm very excited
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♥︎ BLEED ME DRY ♥︎
+ warnings: sub!fem reader, workplace relationship, bloodsucking, biting, biting kink, dry humping, thigh riding, porn without plot, wlw relationship, overstimulation implied, slight mention of corruption kink at the end (nothing too detailed)
+ ft: vampire! boss! arlecchino
nsfw under cut, minors dni!!!
+ notes: small lil drabble bc i cannot get vamp arlecchino outta my head, god she was made for us women
not proof read, kinda messy and all over the place (js like me for her)
your boss was thirsty, again. you were the only one who knew her secret, one that couldn't get out. she made sure of it.
simply put, arlecchino was a vampire. a gorgeous one, for what its worth. being the only one who knew did come with benefits.
that's how you got here. sitting in her lap, the office door shut tightly. arlecchino suckled at your neck, drinking your blood at a slow pace. you were dizzy, between the loss of blood and how she was making you hump her thigh, your soaked panties rubbing against her slacks for a bit of friction.
you couldn't count how many times you had cum from this alone, your skin was sensitive and burning from her sharp ivory fangs. you were marked with her fangs, bites traveling from your collar bone to your arms, down your chest and torso and some planted on your thighs. A bunch of them were old and healing, a few were a couple days old, but a good handful were from just today.
your cunt clenched around nothing, your voice muffled by your boss' hand wrapped around your mouth to prevent the other employees from hearing. she promised you overtime, and you always recieved it.
you just would have to go home and fuck yourself, along with clean up the wounds. if you could drive clearly, your brain was wayyy to foggy right now, and she didn't seem like stopping anytime soon.
you couldn't complain. you wanted her to break you.
©2024 roronoaism - please do not repost or translate my works on other media sites ♡
#arlecchino smut#arlecchino#the knave smut#the knave#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino x reader smut#genshin smut#genshin impact smut#♥ - vinnies corner
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a deep and dreamless love (steddie love month, day 11)
For @steddielovemonth, day 11. 'Love is saving the last bite for them,' from (@acasualcrossfade) Thank you <3
Rating: M WC: 1,630 CW: blood drinking and mild horror. Tags: Vampire au, vampire Eddie, angst and whump with fluffy softness!
…
“You sure you can make it home all right?” Robin climbed out of Steve’s car and paused at the driver’s window. “It’s awfully dark already.”
“It’s cloudy, Robin! Cloudy daylight fries vampires as good as any July scorcher. Now get inside. Before you have to run and fall on your face.”
“Low blow, Dingus.” She curled her lip, muffled her overlong woolly scarf tight beneath her chin. “You know you can always crash h—"
“Robin! If you don’t quit yammering, we’ll BOTH end up as vamp juice-boxes.”
“If we’re gonna play that game, Shit-bird, don’t catch sight of your stupid hair in the rear-view mirror and start fiddling. Don’t wanna find your shrivelled body with my mail.”
“Hilarious. Get inside. Please?”
Steve waited to check she was safe indoors before driving off. He felt bad for being extra cranky, because she was right. He was running late. Their boss had made them stay for extra cleaning at the store, and thick clouds brooded low across an already darkening sky. However, crashing with Robin wasn’t an option.
She was safe now.
Eddie needed him more.
He drove fast, burning rubber round the corners. Nobody enforced speeding laws in Hawkins these days, not this close to sundown. He was halfway home, when the engine spluttered. Then clonked. He hit the break, thrashed at the gearbox. The BMW choked pathetically and conked out completely.
“No.” Steve flicked the ignition key. Nothing. “You gotta be kidding.”
He jumped out, opened the hood. Oil, water. Is the battery disconnected? He could hardly see in the dim light, plus he’d little faith in his basic car maintenance skills.
Especially with his damn stupid hands shaking.
He slammed down the lid, sprinted the hundred yards back to the nearest phone booth. He fumbled a coin into the slot and dialled.
It rang. Once, twice, three times, four times. Steve pushed sweaty hair from his eyes. “C’mon, Eddie, pick up! I really don’t wanna die, 'cos you’re moshing to Van Halen.”
The rings finally cut off: “Munson Mansion.”
“What took you?” Now Steve spoke, he realised he was practically hyperventilating. “I’m in serious shit. My car broke down.”
“Dammit, it’s dark already? Shiiiiit! Must’ve overslept. Okay, calm down.” Eddie sounded, if anything, even less calm than Steve. “Where are you?”
“C-corner of Mason and Sherman.”
“Hold tight, Sweetheart. I’m a comin’.”
Steve pulled the collar of his jacket up—redoubling the defences of the scarf he’d worn all day—and started swiftly back toward the car. The shadows of night slinked across the grey front lawns, swallowing up broken picket fences.
Then swallowing up Steve.
He considered running up a driveway, hammering on somebody’s door—a better option than hunkering down in the car, though only if someone let him in.
Too late.
A tall figure in a hoodie appeared as if from nowhere, and blocked Steve’s path. The vampire’s toothy grin flashed in the chilly twilight.
“It’s rude to sneak up on people." Steve squared his shoulders, battling to keep his voice low and steady. “You hear me, knucklehead?”
He reached into his jacket, gripping the wooden stake he always carried. Before he could line up any kind of aim, the vamp was on him, knocking the stake from his hand. He grabbed Steve by the front of his shirt, lifting him clean off the ground. Goddamn vampire super-strength! Steve kicked the bloodsucker on his leg. Hard. Son-of-a-bitch didn’t even lose his grip.
“Payback time, Harrington.”
“What the—”
Steve attempted a punch, which fell short. He then registered the face behind the leering fangs. It was a football player, who’d graduated a couple of years before Steve.
“Chad Lloyd? Seriously? You’re not still pissed about—”
“You kissed my girlfriend, douchebag.”
“I was lifeguarding! I had no idea she was fake drowning till she shoved her tongue into my mouth. Gimme a break.”
Chad beamed, cheesier than ever. “Oh, I’m gonna break you, Harrington. Before or after I drink you dry.”
“Look, if you wanna keep a date, you really need to work on your one lin—”
He hurled Steve to the ground. Steve landed with a bruising, stunning thud. Then the vamp was upon him, rolling him over, ripping off his scarf and pulling down his collar. Steve kicked and struggled, though he’d almost no hope of escape.
“Hey, what’s this?” Chad tore away the neat dressing tucked under the side of Steve’s chin. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised that slutty Steve Harrington is someone’s sloppy seconds.”
No. Not there! Nobody else drinks from there!
He rammed his knee up into the vamp’s happy-sacks. Then shoved the tender side of his wrist—and that throbbing latticework of veins—right in the sucker’s face.
Chad snarled, grabbed Steve’s arm, hoisted the whole of Steve upright with it. His freshly erupted fangs ripped deep into Steve’s wrist, and he chugged greedily.
Steve’s vision spotted. The usual woolly, sicky feeling swelled in his guts, fogged his brain. He slumped, helpless and terrified, against the vampire. Who just kept drinking.
Okay… I screwed up… Screwed up bad... I always tried so damn hard to save myself for you... Miss you already, Babe… Oh, Jesus!
He was unsure if he heard the distant roar of a motorcycle engine. Could’ve been the fading thunder of his own blood. Then the whoosh of a crossbow bolt gashed into his waning consciousness. Once more, the sidewalk flew up to meet him. He’d a vague notion that the vamp fell too, smacking down beside him.
Eddie’s worried face filled his vision. His heart squeezed sluggishly, aching with love, and the world disintegrated to nothingness.
…
“Steve? C’mon. Wake up. Please wake up.”
Steve’s eyes fluttered open. “Huh?”
“You’re back!” Eddie squeezed him tight. “You scared the crap outta me.”
This was nice. He’d never object to waking up in bed with his naked boyfriend, and half-naked himself. Apart from… Actually, not feeling so awesome.
Unsettling memories trickled back.
“How you doing?” asked Eddie. “That bastard drank waaaaay too—”
“M’fine.”
To be truthful, the whole right side of his body felt like it’d been slammed by a truck. He lifted his bandaged arm to drape around Eddie’s shoulders and struggled to disguise the effort.
“Nothing the usual routine won’t fix.” He smirked. “You know, water, spinach, lentils. Gourmet steak dinner with red wine.”
Eddie planted a sizzling kiss on Steve’s cool, sticky brow. “Only wish we could afford that for you, Sweetheart.”
“I’ll take sex for dessert. Plus we don’t have to pay for your food.”
Steve’s fingers had barely touched the fresh bandaging on his throat, before Eddie snatched them, kissed them, tucked them away again. “You’ve lost too much already.”
“But—”
“I can go a night without feeding, Baby.”
“If you skip dinner, you’ll be grouchy and pathetic in the morning.”
What Steve really wanted was to wrestle Eddie into submission. He’d tease and goad him into unleashing that vampire super-strength, grappling till Steve was the one pinned to the mattress and then...
Annoyingly, Steve was too feeble to even try and sit, so he sneered. “What happens if I’m dumb enough to get jumped again tomorrow? Or Robin, or Dustin, or any of the kids? As much as I hate to admit it, they need a tame vamp looking out for them, way more than they need me these days”
“Answers still ‘no way in Hell.’ Which I’m heading to for sure, but at least the music will be—”
“Don’t change the subject. Look, I nearly got my arm torn off offering that moron my wrist. All to save the best bite for you.”
Eddie stroked Steve’s hair. “Emotional blackmail ain’t gonna work tonight.”
Good job I’ve learned to play dirty.
This time, Steve ripped the dressing from his neck before Eddie could stop him, revealing the twin fang marks Eddie left last night.
And every night.
“What? Why!?! Don’t want…” Eddie flinched away. “I don’t like this, Stevie.”
Steve snaked his good arm up, threaded his fingers through Eddie’s lush tresses. He tugged Eddie down toward his throat.
As if on cue, a drop of hot blood trickled from the barely healed punctures. A groan shook through Eddie. He clamped onto Steve’s lifeblood, incisors piercing deep.
Steve bit his lip against a keening, desolate cry. Love didn’t only suck—it stung like a bitch, and the tide of Eddie’s hair smothered him. Still, the slip of Eddie’s tongue against his blood-slickened skin always flipped him out, in a not-entirely-bad way. From the corner of his eye, he strained to catch glimpses of Eddie drinking.
Gnnng! Too damn hot.
Soon, little stuttering gasps escaped him, as he teetered on a knife-edge. Damn, if Steve wasn’t already so shattered, so woozy, he’d be so up for sex after this…
…until he wasn’t. It hurt too much.
Eddie ripped himself free, jumped from the bed, and was gone.
Steve lay there, trembling violently, his blurry vision further misted with tears. Completely at Eddie’s mercy.
I’m safe. I'm safe.
Soon after he grew too weak to keep his eyes open, he sensed the skitter of featherlight fingertips. Eddie had returned to bandage him up again. Then Eddie gathered him into his arms and roused him with a tender kiss.
“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” mumbled Steve, lips moistened with his own blood.
“Holy shit, Stevie.” Eddie stuck out his tongue, kinda silly. His eyes shone with fear. “I’m a vampire. A goddamn evil, blood-sucking predator. One day, I might not be able to stop.”
“That’s bull.” No evil could overcome a nature as sweet and soft as yours. “I trust you.” I trust our love. Steve nuzzled into his favourite tattooed parts of Eddie’s chest.
I’ll save the last bite for you. Always.
He slipped away, warm and cherished in Eddie’s arms, and into a deep and dreamless sleep.
...
(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3.)
#steddielovemonth#steddie fanfiction#steddie#steve harrington whump#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steddie fanfic#steve harrington x eddie munson#stranger things fanfic#steve harrington#eddie munson#eddie x steve#steddie ficlet#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things
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Robin's Guns and Swords DCA Romance Fics
These are fics that involve battles, pirates, mob bosses, cowboys, detective and so much more!
Light in the Darkness:
You fall into the debts of the Aperture Science Facility and find the remains of the past. Aperture’s repeating history.
To your surprise, at the deepest part of this salt mine of science, you find two robots that should have stopped working long ago. Will they help you find a way top the surface?
Black Sea Glass:
(tag)
Trying to escape from a group of mercenaries hunting you down to catch you and collect the bounty on your head, you stow away on what you think to be a merchant ship. Unfortunately for you, you end up on a ship flying under the king’s flag.
The two captains decide that you can work on the crew while aboard.
Over time you find yourself falling in love with the Captains. This is bad news for you. You have so many secrets to hide and the two captains despise lies.
If they find out who you really are will they leave you? Would they turn you in?
Bits and Pieces:
A cop buddy invites you to a speakeasy for a good time. You go to drown yourself in booze. Little did you know that not only would this make your problems so much worse, but you would also gain the attention of the city's two most dangerous mob bosses.
You just wanted to run your little coffee shop and leave your life of danger behind, but fate has other plans for you.
Hellfire to Warm the Heart:
There I was, standing in the rain, my ears still ringing from the door slamming behind me. Everything had gone downhill so fast.
First, my job fired me without warning or reason then, unable to find a new job, I was evicted from my apartment due to being unable to pay rent.
With my suitcase at my feet, I stared blankety down the street.
What was I going to do? I had nowhere to go. My family had cut ties with me years ago, and I didn't have a friend to speak of. Was there a shelter I should go to, or would I be sleeping on the street tonight?
"Oh, dear! Are you okay?"
I flinched, not expecting anyone to speak to me.
Looking around, I saw an expensive black car parked at the curb, and a back window rolled down. As I watched, the back door opened, and a man, preceded by a large black umbrella, exited the car.
As he straightened, I took a step back, gazing up at a towering individual standing before me.
Dressed in a pale blue suit, this guy had to be almost 7 feet tall, towering over me. His hair was shimmery gold, making him look like a sun. Golden eyes glittered as, with a soft smile, the man asked,
"You look to be in a bit of a bind. Would you like some help?"
Fish Fry:
(tag)
Pulled from the sea 5 years ago, I was tied up, beaten, and sold to owner after owner, each deciding I was too dangerous to keep. Back then, I was strong, able to break bones and tear flesh with ease, singing to lure humans to their demise. It's what my kind was made to do, kill humans. But no more. Kept in increasingly small tanks, barely fed, and unable to swim, I started to weaken. Eventually, I was dumped here. It was some kind of oddities collection. My owner had other humans pay to look at his strange assortment of items he had gathered from around the world. Then one day I encountered two strange humanoid creatures that resembled the Sun and the Moon and my life started to change for the better.
Two Hunters and a Bloodsucker:
(tag)
My life is good for what it is. Except that I’m dead. Well, undead. I’ve been undead for about 15 years now, and I haven’t aged a day.
Being a vampire hiding among humans can be difficult at times, mainly dealing with sunlight and avoiding mirrors, but I manage. I’ve been living and working in this little town as the town blacksmith for about 7 years now, and I’ve become a full-fledged member of the little community here.
I thought I had been doing a good job hiding my presence among the humans, but one day two of the most well-known vampire hunters came into town. If they find out what I am, they will kill me, but both of them have become intent on becoming my friends and maybe more. How can I keep myself from being discovered when two hunters are trying to romance me?
Cosmic Detectives:
I skid to a halt, a brick wall blocking me in. Turning around, I hoped in vain that I had enough time to backtrack and take another path before I was trapped. Two sets of glowing eyes met my gaze as I faced the entrance of the alley. One set red, the other blue. It was too late. Two guns were leveled at me, ready to fire.
Blood and Stars:
Wedged into my little hiding nook up in the second layer of book shelves, I could hear Sun whimpering somewhere below me. Over excited as he was, he had tripped and fallen face first over the sofa on the main floor, giving me the chance to escape. I was currently on the upper balcony of the library room, hidden behind the reading chairs that adorned one corner, pushed up against the wall. The whimpering turned into sniffles and I could almost believe that he was genuinely injured but I knew better. He had caught me this way before, coming out of hiding to see if he was hurt from whatever fall he had taken, clumsy as he was. He was just toying with me, seeing if I would come out of hiding on my own. Sooner rather than later he would get bored and start his search for me, calling out for me to come play, he wouldn’t bite. He would. The boys usually did.
Vampire AU. Sun and Moon have a thirst for blood.
Me and My Flirtatious Pirates (LateNight DayDreams):
Naked cuddling with pirate Sun and Moon.
Astrological Bullets (LateNight DayDreams):
A Wild West story.
You’re tied to a set of railroad tracks somewhere in the desert. You’ve accepted your fate, waiting for either the heat or a train to take you, when a strange metal individual happens by.
Some of these won't be finished and some are OLD writing of mine. you have been warned. Please don't let that stop you from reading these and enjoying them <3
#glitter rock#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf moon#fnaf sun#dca fandom#sun and moon x reader#fnaf sun and moon#dca fanfic#glitter rock writing#two hunters and a bloodsucker#black sea glass au#fish fry au
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"That's his boss" they are literally bloodsucking murderers. I think they have a bit more to worry about than an HR complaint, Paul.
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Reflective
Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader
Summary: His management style is effective AND refreshing. And as his executive assistant, you're partially to thank. But as your professional relationship blurs, are you getting too close to the middle manager monster of nightmares?
Word Count: 8.9k
Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, horror elements and themes, graphic descriptions of blood including drinking, background character un-death, violence, fingering (f-receiving), vomiting (not descriptive), descriptions of a panic attack, a dabble of sleazy coworkers, playing fast and loose with vampire lore.
Notes: Heeeeeeere's LJ! I'm back from my October hiatus just in time for a Halloween fic! Thank you again to @harriedandharassed for the prompt "How does Max Phillips handle not being able to see himself in the mirror?" I was grasping at something to write for Halloween and this prompt came at the perfect time.
This story will include horror elements such as violence, descriptions of blood and some graphic scenes. If that's not your cup of tea, scroll on friend! It was fun to go back to some of my horror writing roots, especially mixing it with the dry comedy of Bloodsucking Bastards. It's Max season babes, and I could not resist writing for this smarmy boy.
There is a part 2, which will post tomorrow. The Discord besties made an excellent suggestion right after I finished the story, and it was so good I needed an addendum. So without further ado, enjoy lovelies and Happy Halloween!
Cross-posted on AO3
If anyone asked Max Phillips what the worst part about becoming a vampire is, he’d probably tell them things like “not getting a tan” or “swearing off Italian food” or “always getting complaints about cold feet”. The last one was often followed by a lewd comment to get a pretty young thing in bed with him to prove it. It’s all farce, of course, clever little quips you’re sure he practiced just like you’d rehearse for a job interview. It gives you a funny little trill when you catch one of those lines again, because you know the truth.
He hates that he can’t see himself in mirrors.
Being Max’s executive assistant, you’re trusted with more than some of your colleagues. Well, that’s debatable, you’ve heard horror stories. But your friend Carla’s stories about her boss’ wife choosing his Peloton instructors for minimum hotness pales in comparison to your early morning runs to blood banks and private contracts with hospital cleanup crews. Max might not be a centuries old vampire, but he’s planning on getting there. You can’t live several lifetimes with a messy trail anymore.
Enter you.
The job listing had been normal enough: Executive assistant. Five years experience. Good references. Not squeamish. Discreet. It was the last three words that piqued your interest the most. You wouldn’t call yourself delicate, at least not for the things Max needed you to do. Your stomach turned when men wanted to stay the night, or your parents begged you to come home for Thanksgiving. Not so much when you had to bag a severed hand.
When it came to the interview you almost walked straight back out of his office before saying a word. The moment you saw him you knew his type. Arrogant, self-centered, prideful, smooth with a customer and cruel in the next breath if you were in his way. You’d seen too many people like him, avoided working with them at all cost. He was young enough that boomer sexism probably wouldn’t be an issue, but you could smell the demand coming off of him. He’d be a yeller, a paperweight thrower, or worse require you to be on call 24/7. You clocked him in a glance and felt the claw of escape behind your ribcage.
And then Max Phillips did something that convinced you to reconsider just as quickly. He stood from his desk, ushered you in, looked you and your resume over for a moment, and spoke.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Max Phillips, Director of Sales, and I’m a vampire.”
The quick introduction, complete with another curious word at the end, made you bark out a laugh.
“What kind are we talking about? Emotionally, mentally…” you rattle off, tight posture relaxing just a fraction. If he was joking with you, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
“Oh you know, the usual kind. With the blood,” he says nonchalantly, baring his teeth dramatically when your eyebrows raise.
“You don’t say.”
“I do, actually. And you want to be my assistant.”
The conversation flows, with some fits and starts as you realize he’s not kidding. He is indeed a vampire, tossed out like his zodiac sign. The questions he peppers off range from highly professional (tell me a time when you performed well under pressure) to unsettlingly irregular (do you know how to remove blood stains from silk?). You shoot the answers back just as quickly, waiting for the moment when either the charade will drop…or you’ll get the job. Because you want it now. It’s easily the most interesting thing you’ll do in your whole life.
“I think that’s all I need,” Max ends abruptly, shuffling your resume into a pile with some others. Panic grips you, and you rush into your next sentence without breathing.
“Are there any concerns you have about my qualifications?”
Max raises an eyebrow and smiles, one that is much too charming to be in its path too long. Casting your eyes down, you glance at the worn-out toes of your nice interview heels, bemoaning getting them out of the closet for another failed interview.
“On paper you’re perfect,” Max says, and being in the same sentence as perfect skitters up your spine for a moment. You bat it away peevishly. “I only worry that you don’t have the constitution for what I’m looking for.” You shift on your feet, pull one corner of your lip between your teeth while you think. It makes you miss Max’s too-long glance at your mouth.
“I’ve watched all of the Saw movies,” you finally say, meeting Max’s eyes with determination. It makes him bleat out a laugh.
“Okay, not squeamish. Those are movies, though, and this is the real deal,” he teases. “Favorite vampire movie?”
“Let the Right One In,” you answer quickly, your face scrunching with regret seconds after. “Or Only Lovers Left Alive. I watched Queen of the Damned three times at a sleepover once. Have you ever seen Vampire’s Kiss? The one with Nic…” Max’s chuckle lets you trail off into silence.
“And you didn’t even say Twilight.”
You were signing employment paperwork the next day.
Most executive assistants put up with a certain layer of bullshit on a daily basis. Booking flights, picking up paperwork, schedule maintenance. You’d stood in line for four hours to pick up a previous employer’s new iPhone once.
Max had very different needs.
You were briefed on your duties in the privacy of his office. While he did reveal to you how many of his sales force were turned by his hand (or fang, you thought with a giggle), discretion was still a priority. He needed someone to go to his blood bank hookup a few times a week, take care of daytime activities when the sun beat down too hard. Body disposal on very rare occasions (so far only the one time) among all of the normal activities you thought you were signing up for.
The one duty that gave you pause, made you tap your nail on the printed line, was close to the bottom of your orientation packet.
“You need me to ‘maintain your appearance’?” you asked, looking up at Max from across the shiny acrylic tabletop. He was lounging back in his chair, knee pressed against the edge of the desk and spread out with boredom. He rolled his head to his shoulder as you flipped the page around to show him.
“Oh that. Yeah, I need you to check me over, make sure everything looks sharp, especially if I’m going to a big meeting.” You quirked a brow at him.
“Can’t you just look in…a…oh,” you said, slowing to a molasses vowel by the end.
“Yeah, mirrors and I haven’t been on speaking terms since Romania,” he sighed, one heavy thumb tracing the crest of his full lower lip. You tried not to notice the subconscious stroke.
“So you need me to…be your mirror. Make sure your hair isn’t a mess and you don’t have spinach in your teeth.” You were rewarded with a sheepish nod from Max. “Huh.”
“Huh what?”
“What else is true about vampires? Or fake, I’ll take either,” you asked, crossing your legs and settling into the wildly uncomfortable modern chair. Max’s smile turned secretive, and that was the first moment you felt him brand you his confidant.
“The sunlight thing is a bummer. I miss the beach, and swimming in the ocean. Garlic just makes my mouth go numb. Inviting someone into your home has a lot more loopholes than you think. And the sign of the cross does jack shit.” You nodded, making a mental list of even more questions to pepper into everyday conversation.
“Why do you think that all is? Because you’re essentially…undead?” you prodded, getting another bark of a laugh from Max and a dangerous glint in his eye.
“Hey, undead is a little harsh. It’s more like…a virulent vitamin deficiency. If I don’t get what I need, everything starts to shut down.” Max pondered on this analogy for a long moment, looking at a dull mass-produced corporate painting.
“But all the superstitions…like why are those true?”
Max shrugged, running his thumb along the inseam of his dress slacks in a way that pulled your eyes to his thick thighs.
“It’s not like there’s a manual for this. Half the stuff is supposed to be because I ‘have no soul’,” Max made finger quotes as he says this. “But mirrors stopped being silver backed ages ago and I still have to be careful when I go into the men’s room.” He shrugged, taking an exaggerated sip from his iced coffee straw. “I just know what works and what doesn’t, and you just need to help with those gaps, pretty girl.”
You almost choke on your tongue, shooting Max a warning look. He raises his hands in deference, but keeps a raised brow.
"Sorry, I call it like I see it. Can't have someone with poor taste in charge of my appearance."
"Yeah and if you don't want to walk in to a meeting with HQ with a Kick Me post-it on your back, you'll be mindful of that mouth of yours."
The crinkles around Max's eyes deepen, something knowing passing by, but he nods in acquiescence.
It’s honestly not as bad as you thought it might be. You could even call it boring. Max thankfully isn’t a paperweight thrower, though he does speak to most of his subordinates like they’re idiots. Never you, thankfully, he’s all smiles and winks and traded comments during your daily interactions. You’ve never been happier to be wrong.
Routine is your master, and you follow its pattern to the letter. It’s what makes you a great assistant. First thing in the morning is Max’s coffee order, set on his desk atop a coaster you provided when you saw the coffee cup stains. He whirls in, all noise and breeze, and you help him get ready for his morning meetings. A straightened tie - you can practically knot one blindfolded now - a quick sweep of fingers through his short hair, a pantomimed smile so he shows you his teeth. It’s all utilitarian, fast, not thrilling or intimate in a way you’d rarely been with a man. Of course not. That would be…unprofessional.
Lunch involves a teakettle, a blood bag, and a deep bowl that you use to warm his meal. All done in the safety and privacy of the kitchenette in his office. You pour the contents - a balmy 98.6 degrees by the time you’re finished - into a silver to-go cup, which he takes with appreciation when he bursts in. The first few weeks you left right after, but once you were more settled he asked you to stay while he sipped on his “lunch”. The conversation was always interesting, if not a little one-sided.
“You really don’t want to eat like, a salad or something? It’s just O-Positive Capri Suns for the rest of your life?” you asked, stabbing at some lettuce in your tupperware. Max laughed, a braying short one, and put his chin in his hand.
“You can technically eat cardboard and not be hungry, but it’s not food, pretty girl,” he replied, a shit-eating grin stretched across his broad face. You'd scolded him enough about the nickname that it's almost a joke now, except for how those words made you feel. His lips were a deeper red, and the sight plucked at something forbidden in your chest. Not disgust, more like morbid fascination. The sight pulled something primal to the surface, his tongue several shades darker when he licked an errant drop back into the lush cavern of his mouth.
You are not allowed to be lusting after your vampire boss is your mantra when thoughts run rampant.
The afternoons tend to be boring, filled with schedule juggling or email management. Max is often occupied through to the end of day, so you’re left to your own devices. You have a lot of “guys” now, as Max calls them. A blood guy, a disposal guy, a law enforcement guy. It makes you feel important in a way other jobs have lacked. You spend your afternoons making arrangements, both professional and personal, for your boss. It’s when you get the bulk of your work done, but it’s also when you have to be most on guard.
You see, Max has a few other “hungry” employees, and as the day grows long they tend to saunter by and watch you with barely veiled appetites. Brad in sales is the boldest, leaning over your desk and making a show out of smelling you with half-lidded eyes. Creepy. You’d told him off several times, but as he likes to say with just the right amount of douche, “I’m a closer baby, I always get the deal.”
In the metaphor you’re not sure what part of the “deal” you are, but you have no intention of finding out. Enough polite excuses and faked phone calls have kept him at bay, but you worry what might happen if he gets bolder, or gathers a few more vamps to sway your opinion. Is there a clause in your contract about not getting turned into a creature of the night? You should have checked.
The end of the day is often a quick affair. Max gets a debrief of anything important that came up, and what’s on the docket for tomorrow. Normally he packs up his suitcase with a little small talk, bids you a good night, and is off to do…whatever a vampire does when he’s off work.
Today, however, the script has a few additions.
“What’s wrong?” Max says, movements slowing as he takes in your shaking hand placing an itinerary on his desk. You tighten, smile forced.
“Nothing! Just fine,” you spit out, which only increases Max’s suspicion.
“Did something happen? Did someone say something to you?” he asks, voice dropping to a low fuck-that’s-hot register. You swallow hard and will something, anything to come to mind.
“Just Brad being Brad. I don’t think he’s turned anyone in a while and he’s getting desperate,” you try to chuckle lightly, but Max’s eyes darken. He stands to his full height, shoulders straining against his jacket. Planting his hands on his hips, he pins you in his sight.
“Did he touch you?” This is a true growl now, and Max’s face changes into a terrifying mask, perfect teeth suddenly lengthening to points as he fights against the rush. Your mouth drops open, but only monosyllabic words come out.
“No. Safe,” you gasp, and the simple admission sobers Max. His jaw ticks, rolling his shoulders and jaw until the transformation recedes. You wish your heartbeat could slow that quickly. After a few steadying breaths, Max finally turns back to you.
If his gaze was electric before, it’s damn close to lightning when your eyes meet. The jolt pulses in your veins, and his nostrils flare briefly.
“I’ll take care of it,” he says, all smooth professionalism like you haven’t just watched him vamp out because a coworker was a sleaze. You nod once, grateful, trying to ignore the sweet friction taking a step back gives to your core.
“Will there be anything else?” you ask, the customary end to your daily exchanges. Max gathers his briefcase, movements purposeful but fast.
“Nothing more, enjoy your night,” he answers, slipping past you with a wave of copper and musk that can’t be hidden by his Hermès cologne. You echo the sentiment but wait to take a full breath until you hear the elevator ding.
The next day Max walks in like a goddamn gladiator, powerful strides and testosterone rolling off his wool jacket. You can sense him before you see him, sometimes wondering if that’s part of the power he wields.
“Good morning!” he booms out, coming to a stop in front of your desk. You type out the end of your sentence and turn to him, smile at the ready, when your eyes drop to a box in his hand. The smile twists to confused amusement.
“What’s that?” you ask as he places the box in front of you with a pat to the silk bow neatly wrapping it.
“Happy six months of working here,” he says with more pomp than necessary. You narrow your eyes; it’s only been four, but his face is eager so you shrug it off. The bow is buttery soft under your fingers, and your heart rate ticks up rapidly. The box hinges open, and nestled inside is a women’s Rolex watch.
Your breath catches in your throat. It’s stunning, the perfect mix of feminine and authoritative. Gleaming oystersteel and everose gold, diamonds circling the watch face laser etched with delicate leaves. It’s easily worth four months of your pay. Your mouth drops open in disbelief.
“Max, I can’t…” you start, but he places his palms on your desk and leans close, tilting his head to one side to favor your cheek with his spearmint breath.
“Wear it. No one will dare touch you, pretty girl. I promise.” His eyes are darkly confident, and the reassurance does ease the shock of the gift.
“Okay,” you manage to squeak out. “Thank you, Max.” He nods once with a lopsided smile before returning to the usual routine of your day. While he settles in, you slide the ungodly expensive timepiece out of the box and onto your wrist. It snaps shut in a perfect fit, and the thought of Max demonstrating your wrist size to the sales person makes heat radiate in your cheeks.
Miraculously, he was right. Brad spies you in the afternoon but one look at the watch has him about-face and leaving twice as quick as he came. At lunch the next day you ask Max about it. He smiles conspiratorially, leaning up against his desk to look down at you seated with your sandwich. You might have thought he was trying to cop a peek at your cleavage, but you had a turtleneck on today, and his eyes didn’t roam from your face.
“The sign of the cross doesn’t do shit…for me. I wasn’t a church-going kid, never got into anything organized. For a talisman to work, the belief has to be twofold. You have to believe it will protect you, and they have to believe it too. So if you want real protection against something out to get you, you have to know them intimately.” He pauses, thumb absently rubbing along the line of his bicep where he’s folded his arms. “If you both believe, anything can work.”
“Like this?” you ask, lifting your wrist with a twist. A flash of something passes over Max’s face before he gives you a lopsided smile.
“You believe it protects you?” he asks, his voice dropping into a softer lilt. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
“You told me it did.”
“And they all believe it does, because I gave it to you.” An unspoken phrase hangs between you.
I’ll protect you.
“Could have chosen something less flashy,” you joke, needing to cut through the heaviness in the air. Max’s smile cracks his face, shaking his head as he moves to his side of the desk.
“Where’s the fun in that? You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”
"And you're on thin ice, Max."
"My favorite place to be."
When it’s actually your six month anniversary, Max schedules a dinner for you. Private chef, live music, a beautiful venue. He told you to bring whoever you wanted, and his name dances on the bow of your lips for a moment. You thought hope might be in his eyes that you’d let it spill. But cowardice struck, and instead you brought your two sisters. They gush over the decadence.
“Are you sure he doesn’t want to fuck you?” One says, forking another mouthful of the best chocolate cake you’ve ever tasted into her mouth. “This is like, fourth date level extravagance.”
“He’s my boss, god. Just shut up and eat.”
“I’m just saying, my husband takes me to the Cheesecake Factory, and while I will never say no to another round of Bang Bang Shrimp, this is above and beyond what anyone would expect from your boss.”
Your other sister doesn’t say anything until you’re alone.
“Just…be careful. This could get really messy.”
Oh you have no idea.
You nod, folding your hands under your chin and looking out at the glittering skyline.
“I will, I promise. We just have a…different working relationship than anyone’s used to. But he’s never made me feel uncomfortable.”
Quite the opposite, really. You’ve never been so comfortable with another person in your life. You’d given him floss picks and wiped shaving cream from behind his ear, smoothed flyaways and cupped his chin to inspect an uneven sideburn. He’d let you touch every part of him without comment, brushing lint from his broad shoulders and tucking inside-out pockets back into their rightful homes.
In return, he treated you with respect. Apart from the nickname, which you won't admit you've come to enjoy, he treated you kindly and professionally. He was a womanizer, but not with you. You weren’t naive, he was definitely fucking plenty of women in the last few months you’d been working for him. Sometimes you saw the ghosts of them in his suitcase, or crumpled in pockets. Once you’d been ready to knock on his closed door but high, breathy moans held your hand at bay. Janet from Web Design left an hour later (impressive, though you’d never say it) and Max called you in shortly after, hands freshly washed and the heavy musk of sex combating faux floral notes of air freshener. Neither of you addressed it.
The difference, you assumed, was professional. He lauded your work, told you how much he appreciated how smooth you made everything for him. He wouldn’t want to fuck that up for a quickie over his desk. Or against the mahogany door. Or on the kitchenette floor, his reddened lips leaving sticky trails on your breasts.
The blast of chill outside the restaurant sobers your thoughts. You send a text to Max, thanking him for the dinner and sending a couple selfies of you and your sisters. His return text is swift.
You deserve it, pretty girl. Looking gorgeous.
The wine loosens your inhibitions just enough to send a text back.
What?
Instant response.
Guess.
Your hands start shaking too hard to respond, suddenly feeling much tipsier than you thought. Typing a hasty, “Thanks again, good night,” you get into the cab and spend the ride home regulating your breathing. Max doesn’t respond.
Minor issues aside - a rowdy employee or two, some tense negotiations, a race to the finish one month for sales - you like your work. You’re considering settling in, maybe not looking for the next big thing for a little while. The pay is good, the benefits are better than most, and you’re happy. For the first time in years, you actually look forward to coming to the office. And a tiny part of you that you hide away knows why.
The start of October is always a favorite time of year for you. Scary movies in abundance on TV, fall decor, and the excitement of heading into the darker months. Thanksgiving and Christmas are fine in their own rights, but Halloween is your personal favorite. You don’t add frivolity to your desk beyond a tiny pumpkin next to your pen cup, which Max eyes with a wry little smile, and a bucket of Halloween candy that anyone is welcome to dip into. It twists the mood just a fraction away from corporate dullness to corporate-appropriate holiday spirit. You even catch Max with his hand in the candy jar once or twice, waving a snack-size Twix or KitKat as he comes and goes.
You do wonder if the childishness of the holiday is something Max dislikes.
“It’s a little naive,” he bemoans, swallowing the dregs of blood from his insulated mug as you wash your tupperware in his kitchenette sink. Wordlessly you hold a hand out for the empty cup to clean. “Seeing everyone gallivanting around, pantomiming monsters, when they’re all too real.”
“More than vamps? Friends with any werewolves?” you tease, soaping up the sponge designated for Max’s lunches and scrubbing the congealed mess out of the lid threads.
“Would you like to meet one?” he answers, a sing-song mockery of your own joke.
“God no, I have enough supernatural shenanigans with you,” you laugh, washing your hands clean so you don’t smell of copper. You’re careful to slide the gifted Rolex back around your wrist when you’re finished, a ritual Max watches closely every time. Clearing your throat, you gather up your lunch bag and move to leave.
“Maybe a Halloween party would be good for morale,” Max says nonchalantly, voice stopping you in the door. You wrestle the smile off your face before turning back to him.
“Would you like me to arrange something?” you ask, failing to keep your expression breezy. Max flashes that conspirator’s grin that drums up excitement in your chest.
“Please.”
The office latches onto the party date, only a couple days before Halloween proper. There will be food, drinks, a few small prizes for best costume and raffles. You count down the days with mounting excitement, the spirit of the season making you bouncier, lighter in and out of work. Max teases you about it.
“So you’re not going to tell me what you’re going as?” he wheedles, watching you lay piles of paperwork in neat folders on his desk. You shake your head, clucking your tongue when you notice you’re one short.
“Half the fun is the surprise,” you call over your shoulder as you speed back to your desk and return with the final folder. Max doesn’t even pretend he’s interested in the documents. “What are you going to be?” His eyebrow cocks, shaking his head with derision.
“I’m a vampire, honey, I am my own costume,” he drawls, making you roll your eyes.
“So I should expect a cape with a high collar? Some dollar store plastic fangs? Hair gel?” you tease, making your hands into claws over the desk. “I vant to suck your blooooood!” you mime in your best Dracula impression, getting your own eye roll in return.
“If you’re not telling, I’m not,” he throws back, finally scooting forward in his chair and opening one of the folders. You straighten up, triumphant, and leave him to his work.
The day of the party greets you with excitement. You made the decision to go subtle, since you’ll be sitting in costume all day. Your coworkers would have time to change before the party, but you were organizing and didn’t have that luxury. So on went a sensible white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and sheer black nylons. Slipping them up your legs, you grind your lip between your teeth. The back seam of the nylons, paired with the black stiletto heels you found in your closet, turn the dress from something mundane to possibly recognizable. When you turn your back to the mirror, crossing your ankles prettily, one of the most recognizable movie posters in history pulls to the forefront.
You could give Maggie Gyllenhaal a run for her money.
The last piece - an addition that turns the costume from seductive to silly - you tuck into the chest pocket of your blouse before leaving.
The day passes quickly, Max calling to tell you he’s meeting with HQ through lunch and to get the festivities started without him. You usher in the caterers, laughing with your coworkers when they ask what your costume is. So far the cover story works, and they all enjoy the clever play on words.
The party is in full swing, raffle tickets being handed out and drinks starting to flow, when Max enters. His voice precedes him, and it’s a good thing it does because if you didn’t have that brief moment to gather yourself your mouth would have dropped open.
It’s a perfect recreation of Gary Oldman’s Dracula costume. It’s so on the nose a laugh almost bubbles out if you weren’t breathless. He’s swathed head to toe in dove gray, save for the sharp shock of black around his neck, the shine of his shoes, the rich dark leather of his gloves. The waistcoat pulls tantalizingly against his stomach, a bright silver pin at the base of his throat. He’s slicked his hair into a side part, small blue-tinted glasses perched halfway down his curved nose. Leaning on the walking stick and crossing his ankles, he makes a sweeping “ta-da!” motion with his hand. Applause erupts, giving you cover to gasp in some much-needed air.
“To All Hallows' Eve,” he croons, sharing secret looks with the team members you know are his brethren. By the time he catches your eye across the room you’ve finally comported yourself, smiling brightly at his nod.
It takes him some time to get to you, fighting through the crowd of people wanting to rub elbows and make an impression. He gives them all their five minutes of fame in his presence, annoyance slowly ticking up with each stop. You keep busy organizing the raffle, handing out voting sheets (Max will certainly win best costume) and watching him out of the corner of your eye.
It’s at the first lull in your duties that Max slides up next to you, a warm hand on your lower back. It makes you jump, but settle quickly when his impressed smile comes into view.
“I think I know what you’re supposed to be,” he murmurs, coming to stand in front of you to get a better look. His brow furrows when his gaze lands on your breast pocket. “Hmmm, maybe not. So spill, what’s your costume?” he says, leaning on the cane and dragging his gaze up and down your body. Aiming for a carefree smile, you tap on the little calculator peeking out of your pocket.
“I’m someone you can count on,” you enunciate, the confusion and realization swirling in his eyes until a laugh bubbles out, shaking his head.
“I can’t believe you came to the party as a pun,” he chokes out, both of you now giggling next to the bags of chips and finger sandwiches. When he finally gets control of himself he nods approvingly.
“Well, you might not win best costume with that…” You shrug, conceding, “but I’d give you the prize if you admit what you actually came as, pretty girl.”
Time slows to sticky seconds as Max inches closer to you, eyes sliding over your shoulder, tracing the curve of your neck, lighting for much too long on your lips. He knows, knows you wore the outfit from Secretary and for no one else but him. You keep your stare trained on his face. It’s not the first time you’ve considered throwing out professionalism in favor of hunger. It’s not like anyone else has been upholding your rigorous standards. Would it be so bad to let Max chase his desires with your body? To bloom underneath him, above him, around him? Would you like the taste of his mouth, coppery and thick?
He’s close enough to be more than professional but not so close to be indecent, hot fingers tracing the band of the Rolex circling your wrist. Your mind blearily wonders if that’s when you let down the wall that kept him out. His eyes finally meet yours, a question in their depth, before his face contorts and he steps back quickly, a grimace painting his features.
“Are…” You swallow, mouth torturously dry. “Are you okay?”
He nods, fighting on a smile and straightening with effort.
“Yes, sorry, I was…busy this afternoon, haven’t eaten yet.” He raises his hands in defense at your scolding glance, the tension back to a bare simmer.
“Well go get a drink, I won’t announce the winners until you get back,” you say breathlessly, giving him a dazzling smile that he returns shyly. The tables are turned for once in your favor, and you savor watching Max on unsure footing. “Do you need me to heat something up for you?”
“No, I’ve got it taken care of,” he assures you, making his way to his office. A wave back at you is the last you see before he closes the door.
Finally able to make sense of what’s going on, you get back to the party, mingling with the girls you like from marketing and keeping tabs on the liveliness of the party. Max doesn’t return, the time to announce the costume winner closing in. You worry at your cuticles, his absence starting to toll on your mind. What if he was passed out in his office, weakening by the second? While you were out here with coworkers that had never given you a second glance?
Your resolve snaps, mother henning be damned, as you move to Max’s office. The din of the party muffles your voice, stepping close to listen at the door.
“Max?” you call, with no answer. Heart thumping, you test the handle. Locked. A quick trip to your desk has the spare key in your hand, ready to slot into the lock.
“Max, it’s time for the announcement, I didn’t think you wanted to miss it,” you say, and this time you hear something. A low, pained groan.
The key slams into the lock, turning frantically as you whip the door open, two steps in with it shutting heavily behind you before you register what’s happening.
Max is not alone. And he’s…
He’s…
Oh fuck.
It’s easy not to see the monster when it looks like a middle manager. It’s easy to pretend the blood is a beetroot smoothie, or that the stains on his shirt are red wine. When Max makes it seem so dull, so boring, you sometimes forget he’s something strange and powerful.
But when you’re face to face with the truth, it all comes rushing to the forefront.
Max has Janet, the pretty thing from Web Design, spread out on his lap, her hands gripping the armrests of his chair. One hand is covering her mouth, leaning her head back to loll against his shoulder. The other is buried under her skirt, and from here you can see wetness shimmering inside her thighs. The lewd flexing of his forearm working her with those fingers you covet day in and day out almost distracts you from what’s actually happening. Almost.
Dragging your eyes up, you take in the true horror of the situation. You recognize the change, his face contorted with lines of deepening purple and red streaking his skin. The same that you saw when you told him about Brad. His mouth is latched onto Janet’s neck, red oozing around the seal of his lips. He’s groaning, swallowing thickly as you imagine mouthful after mouthful of her blood pouring down his throat.
The slam of the door drags Max’s eyes up, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline when he sees you. Mouth popping off Janet’s skin, he growls your name, deep and drunken. The loss allows blood to spurt from Janet’s neck, thick droplets spraying across her bare legs, the carpet, his desk, staining papers you laid there just this morning. Your stomach churns violently, legs weakening as Janet thrashes against Max’s hold. He tears his eyes from you to look down at the mess, a rough, “shit,” falling from his blood-stained lips before he fits his mouth back to the ring of teeth.
There is nothing darkly romantic about this now, no suave vampire lover sipping delicately from a young debutante’s neck. Blood sluices down to stain Janet’s pink top a deeper red, her face painted with rusty smears that gather between his fingers. Max pounds his fingers inside her, the telltale spasm of her orgasm accompanied by the liquid squeak of her flats slipping in her own blood. He withdraws, a sticky string of her cum trailing across her thighs. Pressing her flush to his chest, he sucks and growls and hums until Janet goes still, fingers falling away and body slumping. The pop of his mouth off the wound lets a dribble slip between the swell of her cleavage, more still smeared and dripping from his mouth. He sighs with relief, thick tongue lazily licking at the mess around his lips. He bands his arms around Janet and lifts, folding her face-down on his desk, legs dangling limply over the edge. Her eyes are sightless, blood smearing onto the Meyer report.
A maddening thought - you’d have to reprint that - spikes through your consciousness.
Max stands, swaying slightly as he rolls his shoulders, finally looking at you trembling in his office. His eyes are blood red, human only in that he sees you with them. Realization flits across the face you barely recognize, smile going predatory. As if a body isn’t lying mere inches from him, he places his hands on his desk, leaning over to give you a sultry look.
“Come here, pretty girl,” he purrs, a sound that vibrates in two tones. It makes your fight or flight instinct claw up your spine. Specifically the flight part. The fight part is warring against the fiery arousal burning in your belly at Max’s slick mouth, the generous tenting in those gray pants, and the rabid desire in his eyes. Fear sharpens your pulse, and you know it would take barely anything to make you cum with a wail if he’d only touch you.
“Can smell you from here, little secretary. Know you want me to devour that juicy pussy.” Max lengthens his neck, closing his eyes and inhaling with a satisfied moan. Flecks of blood dot the gray waistcoat, jacket abandoned in a heap on the floor. The black shirt hides the color but not the wetness of what Max could not eat. “I would, you know. I would eat you even if I was full to bursting. Let me taste you, pretty little thing. I want you on my tongue. I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll wash me clean.”
He’s prowling around the table now, steps soft and light, and you’re a frozen gazelle with a tiger approaching. No, that’s too grounded, too finite. You’re a candle flame in the middle of an ocean, a moment away from being swallowed up. Your face is wet; you’re crying. You’re scared. You’re so aroused it hurts. You’re so in over your head you’re drowning.
You can’t breathe.
You can’t breathe.
You can’t breathe.
Realization flickers over Max’s face and you watch him change. The veining and depth of his features recedes, eyes clearing back to soft brown as he slows his advances even further.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay, I’m not…I’m not gonna hurt you.” He turns his palms up, keeping his distance as you struggle to let air back into your lungs. The first whoosh makes you so lightheaded you stumble back, falling to your knees. Max goes down to his knees with you, one hand outstretched but still too far to touch. You can’t stop shaking, taking in big gulping breaths. Max waits, a drip of blood from his chin shocking him into scrubbing his sleeve over his face. Most of the gore vanishes, but the pink hue remains.
“I’m not gonna hurt you. I would never hurt you,” he tries again, scooting another pace forward. “I’m sorry, you were never supposed to see that. I fucked up, please…”
His hand brushes your ankle and you know you’re going to be sick. Bile rushes up your throat and you scramble blindly for the trash bin. You make it just in time, emptying your stomach with retching sobs. A warm palm strokes your shoulder and you snap your arm out, head still hanging.
“Don’t touch me!” you rasp, and the hand is gone, letting you finish shuddering and coughing into the bin. When your stomach stops cramping you crawl away, ignoring Max’s concerned face in your periphery. You lost one of your shoes, picking it up from its topple onto the floor and holding it in your hand like a weapon.
“Please, look at me,” Max begs, and you finally take him in. He’s much more the Max you know, but so different now. Same hair you arrange for him, same soft-shaved face you touch more than you actually need to. Same brown eyes that look to you for guidance. But when you look closer you can see the film of blood on his teeth, droplets clinging to his eyebrows, and a never ending hunger in the depths of his eyes.
You scramble to your feet, hobbling in one shoe. Max stumbles back up to your height.
“Pretty…?” he begs again, but you’re opening the door, striding out into the ruckus of the party. A couple people turn, eyes expectant until they see you. Confusion, or realization, turns them back around to ignore you. Heart thumping in your throat, fear pangs through your chest. Is there any blood on you? A quick inspection finds none, so it must be your haunted expression and disheveled appearance that inspires discretion.
Unable to spend another moment in this building, copper still strong in your nose, you stuff your shoes in your bag and try to hurry out the back door. You need to get home, behind a locked door, maybe several. Somewhere you can think, get a level head, figure out what to do.
Then Brad steps into your path, and your stomach plummets again.
“Hey, where are you going? You haven’t announced the costume contest winner yet!” he laughs, blocking your path. Stepping to the side, you watch in dismay as he does the same. Again, but the other way, and he follows. Tutting, he nods at your Rolex.
“Seems like this is just an expensive gift now,” he bemoans, dunking you in clarity.
You have to believe it will protect you.
Nothing can save you now.
Only yourself.
Another step-dodge hides your hand diving into your bag, and when Brad grabs your wrist you swing your arm back and drive your stiletto into the side of his neck.
“What the fuck?!” he shouts, hands coming up to staunch the dark blood seeping around the wound. Faintly you hear Max’s door open and the party drop to silence, but you leave the noise as you burst into the stairwell, racing to your car and away from the hell behind you.
Max stumbles out of his office as the door slams behind you, clothes sticking to his skin and mouth full of metallic tang.
“Bitch put her heel in my goddamn neck!” Brad shouts, stomping up to Max. “Your assistant needs some fucking discipline Phillips.” He must have more to rant about, but two swift hands snap Brad’s head clean around and off, letting his body crumple to the floor. Max watches with disinterest, pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling long and deep before tossing the head to join.
“Okay people, cleanup protocol,” he calls out, and the vampires in the crowd all look at each other.
“Boss?” one of them says, making Max snap his attention to them in frustration.
“You heard me, we’ll start relocation tomorrow.”
Max ignores the screams of his turned subordinates feeding on the human ones, his eye catching the glint of something on the ground. He kneels, heart sinking at what he finds. The Rolex, her talisman. Picking it up, he turns it grimly in his hands. Brad shouldn’t have been able to touch her, not with this. As long as she still believed it worked.
“Fuck,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over the face, an errant smear of blood clouding the crystal.
You get the call on Sunday afternoon, a whole weekend spent locked up in your apartment and stressed over what Monday would bring. The unknown number is the district manager letting you know that your office is being outsourced, effective immediately. Do not return to the building, please ship company property back to HQ, on and on. Part of you is relieved to not have to step foot back there. The morbid voice in the back of your mind whispers that there’s more to it than cheaper labor. You let that voice fade in favor of relief.
With enough savings for a few months out of a job, you begin the search anew. HQ gave you a generic recommendation letter, which should be enough for your new employer. It would have been preferable to have one from Max, but thinking about what it might say gives you hysterical giggles.
Can warm blood up to body temp perfectly.
Handles high stress situations such as scheduling a body dump.
Looks into my eyes like she’s known me forever.
You force yourself out of this line of thought.
Three weeks after you ran out of that building for the last time, you get an email.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Can we talk?
<no body copy>
Your fingers hover over the keys, throat tightening. The hysteria died down after the first week, your trips outside cautious over the second, and finally a sense of calm had settled back into your life. Did you want to invite chaos back in?
Subject: When?
<no body copy>
Your reply sends and moments later your inbox pings again.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Now?
<no body copy>
Your face scrunches in confusion before the sharp buzz of your front door bell jars you out of your chair.
“Fucking…Max, give a girl a minute,” you curse, smoothing a hand through your hair and shrugging at your loungewear attire. Padding to your intercom, you click the button to activate the video screen. No one is standing on the stoop of your apartment. Confused, you press the talk button.
“Hello?”
“It’s Max.”
You’re stunned into silence before a smile creeps onto your face.
“You’re not visible on cameras too?”
“Ha ha, yeah I know, it’s great for a life of crime,” he drones out sarcastically, and even though you can’t see him you can imagine that mocking face.
A ball appears in the back of your throat. You missed him.
Buzzing him up, you wait at your door, leaning in the entryway. You don’t think he’s here to violently tie up a loose end, but you could be wrong. Your good judge of character has been suspiciously absent in the last eight months.
Three swift knocks and Max is standing in your doorway, holding a bouquet of sunflowers. You’d assumed he’d be in a suit, but this one is more casual, no necktie and his collar open. He’s wearing a cocky I-knew-you-missed-me face, but underneath there’s a current of worry, concern, and care that warms you.
“Oh, you never told me,” you say, holding the door open thoughtfully, “what are the loopholes for entering someone’s home without being invited in?”
Max’s eyes crinkle up as he rolls his eyes. There’s the man you’d been falling for.
Oh.
Oh wow.
Shit, that’s the first time you’d thought that.
“So in the movies it sounds so formal. Like ‘may I enter your home?’ and the other person has to say ‘yes, you may,’ but nobody talks like that anymore. You can just say come in, and that’s it. Or I can ask if I can come in and if you say yeah, that’s good enough. I’ve even had people tell me to come get a hug, or get out of the cold, and that worked too. Human language has evolved so much and…I am absolutely babbling like an idiot right now.” Max trails off and you stifle a smile behind your hand. It pulls a relieved one onto his face.
“I missed you,” you say, the words coming easier than you expected. Max’s eyes soften.
“I missed you too.”
You look at each other in silence before you snap back to the previous conversation.
“Oh, shit, right, yeah come in,” you stutter, Max crossing the threshold and handing you the sunny bouquet. The plastic wrap crinkles around your fingers, making for a good distraction as you move to put them in water while Max hangs his coat.
It takes you a few minutes to snip the stalks and place them in a vase, and then a few moments more to ask Max if he’d like something (“whatever you’re having”) and brew two cups of black tea. Entering your little living room, you find Max sitting at one end of your couch, thumbing through a travel book. He puts it down to accept the tea, setting it to cool on the coffee table. Placing yours beside, you settle into the couch and try to think of where to begin. Thankfully, Max starts.
“I’m sorry you had to see any of that after all that you’ve done for me. It was inappropriate for me to feed at work, even more so to scare you. It was wildly unprofessional and I completely understand if you don’t want to be associated with me after that.”
You blink slowly at him, absorbing this carefully rehearsed apology. He waits for your response, damnation or salvation.
“Is Janet okay?”
You watch his face cooly as he struggles through a few different emotions. Confusion, incredulity, amusement, relief.
“Yeah, Janet’s fine, I turned her. She’s moving to England, not as much sun.”
Silence slips between you before you break into giggles, Max following along as the tension unwinds. When your breath stops hitching you give Max a warm smile, picking up your mug to take a sip.
“Sounds like HQ just wanted to sweep all this under the rug. Would it always have ended up this way, or was the party to blame?” Max shrugs, arm slung over the back of the couch and ankle resting on his knee.
“It’s different every place I go. Sometimes it’s longer, other times it’s only a few weeks. You made it easier,” he says, a blanket of fondness warming your lap. Tracing the lip of the mug with your fingernail, you sort through what you want to say next.
“Before the party…was something going on between us? Or is that some weird vampire thing to make humans easy to manipulate?” Peering through your lashes, you think you see Max blush.
“I can assure you I did not use my supernatural powers of suggestion on you. Only on difficult clients,” he laughs, tilting his head lazily onto one shoulder. “Yeah,” he adds quieter, face turning to his lap. “Yeah, there was something going on between us.” Slowly, giving you time to shy away, he reaches out to brush his fingers along the inside of your knee. A trill of excitement flutters through you. ���I hope it’s still there.”
Just as cautiously, you reach out and let the tips of your fingers meet, his hand turning over to cup them in his palm. The softness of his skin entices you to stroke along his broad palm, the undersides of his fingers, until he moves to lace them with yours, joints stretching pleasantly around his larger ones. When you get the courage to look up he’s regarding you with quiet wonder, lips parted. You smile at him, eliciting one in response.
“I have something for you,” he says, voice tight as he digs into his pants pocket. It’s a smaller box than the first gift he got you, and you release his hand to take it. Sliding the top off, you’re treated to a delicate silver chain.
“I don’t think the Rolex quite expresses what I’d like us to be now,” Max says, lifting the chain out of the box. It’s even more dainty in his hands, thick fingers struggling briefly with the clasp.
“So you’re not asking me to keep being your assistant?” you say, pulse pounding in your ears so loud you’re sure he can hear it.
“Put this on and I’ll show you what I’d like us to be,” he says, a soft challenge but no fire in his eyes. Instead there’s a question, one that you’d struggled with in the weeks following the party.
Could you handle this?
Pushing up on your knees, you gently lift one leg over Max’s lap, settling on his thighs. His eyes widen, then that bratty smile comes back to grace his face.
“I’m waiting Max,” you tease in a sing-song lilt. He lifts the chain to loop around your neck, fastening the ends together. It hangs cooly against you, sensation slowly disappearing as it warms to your skin.
“This will protect you, if you believe in it,” he says, and as he breathes the words he leans up to place a soft kiss to your collarbone, pressing the chain between his lips and your skin. “It will protect you from those with ill intent,” he continues, trailing his lips along the necklace as he places another kiss at the base of your throat, “because I will never let another creature, living or undead, bring harm to you.” Here he places an open-mouthed kiss on your sternum, a tentative lick pebbling your skin. “And it will protect you from me,” His mouth moves up the other side of your neck, peppering kisses along the way, “because I will never lay a hand on you that you’re not begging for.”
You bury your hands in his short locks, scratching your nails along his scalp. The groan he lets out makes him circle you in his arms, sliding you down his thighs to sit tight against him. His breathing becomes erratic, and he rolls his hips below you.
“I’ll never…fuck, I’ll never drink from you. I’ll never bite you, I promise,” he growls, and now his mouth is hot and possessive on your neck, sucking and scraping teeth up to worry behind your ear.
“I like biting,” you whisper back, grinding lightly on him. “Only these teeth, though, not the sharp ones.”
The dark chuckle he makes precedes him pulling you back, looking up at you with wide eyes and a damp mouth.
“I still want you to be my assistant, though, I’m a mess without you,” he pants, eyes glittering with mirth. Shaking your head with a sigh, you dip down to capture the mouth you’d been coveting. He tastes like bitter tea leaves, coffee, and the primal coppery heat of blood on the back of his tongue.
It’s a taste you could get used to.
NEXT
#max phillips x f!reader#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#bloodsucking bastards fanfiction#prolix fics
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Bloodsucking Bastards
2015 • Not Rated • 1h26m
A down on his luck cubicle worker and his slacker best friend discover their new boss is a vampire who is turning their coworkers into the un-dead.
#horror#horror movies#horror movie#movie#movies#poster art#movie posters#posters#poster#horror movie poster#horror comedy#bloodsucking bastards#2010s horror#2010s horror movie#2010s horror movies#pedro pascal#bloodsucking bastards 2015
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BLOODY HELL
a Max x reader fic
pairing: max (bloodsucking bastards) x female reader
genre: humor/crack (but with a movie like bloodsucking bastards, is it really crack?)
rating: M
words: 861
content: period talk, mentions of oral sex
a/n: I have no goddamn clue what this abomination is. It’s been sitting in my docs for three years. Enjoy!
—
It was simple; you just needed Max to sign off on your report before you sent it over to legal. However, when you walked up to his door and peeked through the window, he seemed to be in the midst of a giant temper tantrum.
“I can’t do this anymore! FUCK! FUCK!”
He was yelling so loudly you could hear him through the closed door. You shrugged, dismissed this outburst as another one of Max’s eccentricities, and opened the door.
“Sorry to interrupt,” you said, and Max’s head whipped around to glare at you.
“What do you want?” He hissed as he slunk over to his desk and sat down, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. He had shed his three-piece ensemble throughout the day, his vest, tie, and suit jacket tossed haphazardly over an open filing cabinet, leaving him in just his white dress-shirt. It was unbuttoned clear past his collarbone and the sleeves were rolled up his forearms.
It struck you as very odd. Max was usually extremely fastidious with his appearance—this Max looked utterly frazzled.
“Well?” Max barked, and you straightened.
“Uh, um, I just needed you to read and sign these before I give them to legal,” you said, handing over the papers. Max swiped them out of your hands and gave them a cursory glance before slapping them down on the desk.
“Is that all?” He asked, glaring at you, his nostrils flaring.
“Uh, yes, Max,” you said, looking at him with a degree of concern. “Pardon me if I’m being intrusive, but are you okay?”
Max stared at you, expression blank for a moment before breaking out in laughter. It was a harsh, raucous kind of laugh, one that did not tend to denote amusement.
“Am I okay. Am I fuckin’ okay.” He gesticulated wildly for a moment. “I was okay. Everything was fucking peachy in this office. A hell of a lot better than the last one I had the displeasure of running.And then you... You waltz in here last year with your perfect references and your perfect resumé and your perfect everything and I think, ‘oh, gee, she’ll be a great addition to our team, let’s hire her, what could go wrong?’ Everything. Everything could go wrong.”
You wracked your brain, trying to think of a time that your performance was less than stellar. You prided yourself on your work ethic; it had earned you respect and a raise in the relatively short time you’d been here.
“I’m sorry, Max, I don’t know if I understand,” you said.
Max waved a hand at you before continuing. “Look. I’ll be blunt. Anna’s got an IUD, she never has a period. Trish probably went through menopause in the 90s. Maria’s birth control makes it so she only has a period once every three months, and I can easily schedule in a couple sick days around it. You, however,” he growled, “are a fucking nightmare.”
You balked. What the hell did your coworker’s menstrual cycles have to do with anything?
“You come in here reeking of blood every goddamn month! Sometimes every three weeks! For five fucking days at a time! And I have mentioned how goddamn frustrating it is to think it’s over and then come back the next day, thinking I’ll have some modicum of peace, and you’re sitting there like, ‘oops, silly me, still bleeding!’”
You wondered what the fuck Max was going on about until you remembered.
Wait.
Your boss is a vampire, you dipshit.
“Oh,” you said, shifting in your seat. Knowing he could smell that you were on your period never occurred to you, but now his monthly mood swings made a lot more sense. “Um. I’m... sorry.”
“You have no idea how much restraint I’m showing right now,” Max said with a huff. “But killing you would be a mess for HR to clean up. And the janitor. Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of my ties?”
“Try bloodstains on underwear,” you griped.
“Not. Helping,” he hissed.
“You know,” you said, “You could still, uh. Drink my blood. Without killing me, I mean.”
Max looked confused, then he sat up straight as a board. “You can’t be serious,” he said.
“Really? Has it never really occurred to you before?” you asked, incredulous.
“I can’t say it hasn’t,” he said.
Silence stretched between the two of you.
Fuck it. Even if your boss was an asshole, he was hot, and you could use an orgasm or two.
“Well... I’m game if you are,” you said.
Max’s eyebrows shot up. Silently, he stood and walked to his door, as if expecting you to follow.
You were embarrassed beyond belief. What were you thinking, coming on to your boss? You got up and made your way to the door, reaching for the doorknob.
Max held out his arm, blocking your hand. With one swift motion, he locked the door and backed you into his desk.
“Take off your clothes,” he snarled.
You grinned. “Got it, boss.”
Needless to say, this was going to be a fun week at the office.
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Wild Heart
Chapter Four
A Twilight - Paul Lahote Fanfic
*Short summary for my antsy gals: this absolute babe with childhood trauma, no real family and a passion for animals goes to live in the woods outside of La Push beach for her job, and guess who’s not happy she’s there because now they have to worry about this human who’s put herself smack in the middle of bloodsucker city, where they have an instinctual obligation to protect her. And guess who’s even more angry that he suddenly feels an undying and relentless, fiery need to be with her all the time? Angst, tension, passion, anger, love, jealousy, perhaps even some betrayal? This story’s got it all babes (yes, even the shmut) - it’s just one of those slow burn, then-suddenly-everything-is-fuckin-crazy-and-the-angst-is-unreal fics, you know? stay tuned ;)
Make sure you’ve read the PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Chapter Four: 
Harley’s POV
I furrowed my brows and shook my head a few times, not comprehending his words and struggling to hear my own thoughts over my anxious heart’s pounding in my ears.
“Wha-” I managed to stutter out before the man’s amused face twisted into even more of a mocking expression, and his rough voice interrupted mine.
“You’re on Quileute land,” his long arms gestured to the dark trees around us pointedly, ”AKA, the tribe that my father happens to be Chief of.” His words were cocky, and yet his face was rather serious by the time they’d all fully escaped his mouth. He said it almost as if he was burdened by the fact, and it confused me. I had already known of the territory I was stationed on, and advised by my boss of the rules that were in place to ensure the tribe was not disrespected. They were rules I followed naturally in my own personal respect for the land, but I had made an effort to ensure I didn’t leave a trace of my presence outside of my cabin.
I nodded slowly, my eyes still narrowed at him. It didn’t really matter to me who he was, although I was somehow comforted by the mere fact that I’d seen this guy several times now around the town. I’d even met his father, who at the time I’d had no idea was the Quileute Chief. But, at the end of the day, he was still walking through the woods, shirtless and barefoot at that, after dark.
“Well, nice to meet you then, I guess…” I responded cautiously, my left hand still clutching my bear spray. I wondered briefly if I should still be wielding it, my brain trying to decipher if I was actually in danger or not. As though he could hear my inner dialogue, his gaze flickered momentarily to my hand, and a short exhale of amusement left his nose.
“You planning on usin’ that on me?” His voice was thick with mock offense. He crossed his arms, clearly at ease and not at all intimidated by my aerosol weapon. I glanced down at the spray, not lowering my hand just yet, then moved my eyes back up to his.
“Not sure, guess that depends on if you’re a crazy killer or not,” I replied while holding his stare, “You are shirtless in the middle of the woods, you know... in September. Without a light.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes, uncrossing his arms to lift his hands up in a cocky questioning gesture.
“I don’t get cold easily. And I know these woods like the back of my hand. Plus, I was… on my way up to the cliffs. It’s where we have our bonfires and stuff this time of year,” he responded matter of factly and dropped his gaze to the ground briefly before snapping it back up to my face. “And what exactly are you doing out here? Stray hiker? Get lost?” His face was pulled into a slight sneer now.
I stared back at him still, trying my hardest to avoid my voice shaking. I wasn’t exactly terrified of him, but his sheer size and demeanor made him intimidating, to say the least. I lowered the bear spray to my side, still clutching onto it.
“No. I work out here,” I said curtly, wondering if - and hoping that the tribe was notified of the random wildlife biologist that would be living on their land for the next year and a half. I felt a brief pang of guilt and sympathy that the tribe probably very often had to deal with the disrespect of ignorant tourists. His features didn’t change all that much in response to my words, only a single eyebrow raising and a slow nod.
“Sure, sure. At the lookout shelter, yeah?” His voice was smooth and clear, and I wondered for a moment how his skin looked so buttery and warm, somehow. The cold air was biting into my skin, and I could feel goosebumps hitting me in waves with the sea breeze that came through the trees from the beach. He wasn’t even shivering, wasn’t even moving at all to imply that he was cold or bothered by the frigid night air. I nodded, slightly unsure if him knowing about the shelter was comforting or off-putting. He hadn’t seemed very surprised. Every sign was jumping out at me to say I should be scared; his unusual demeanor, his missing shirt and shoes, the way he seemed to already somehow know the answer to the question he asked. But I was beginning to calm down. His energy was almost that of a child, playful and nonthreatening, despite his enormous frame.
He sighed, shaking his head somberly.
“Yeah, not many of you people last long out there, I gotta tell ya.”
I furrowed my brows, my confusion showing clearly on my face. He leaned towards me and cocked his head to the side, pleased with my reaction.
”Oh, what? They didn’t tell you? Man, that’s kinda messed up.” He chuckled deeply and shook his head again. I stared at him impatiently, waiting for him to go on.
“The last few of you scientists that were out here had to leave early. Got too scared of the animals.”
I almost laughed, and my face must’ve shown my immediate lack of belief in his claims, as his impish grin dropped slightly. I managed to sputter out my words.
“That’s weird…I’m used to the people in my field being pretty damn comfortable around wildlife,” I retorted, a giggle trying to push its way out from my throat but being halted by my still overly hesitant body. He shrugged and reached a hand out to lean himself casually against the tree next to him.
“There’s some pretty big wolves out here. They’ve killed a few people, I’ve heard,” He said casually, flicking at some loose bark on the tree.
It was possible, I considered; I’d read some random articles about people going missing in the general area pretty frequently, but that happened in rural places like this, didn’t it? Too many inexperienced hikers, traveling too deep into the backcountry and getting injured or lost.
It was my turn to ask the questions now.
“Then why are you out here by yourself? Not scared of these big bad wolves?” I asked mockingly. I was relaxing a bit, my body and mind apparently sensing that this large man was not as scary as he initially seemed. His hand stayed on the tree, but his eyes flickered up to mine.
“My tribe respects wolves like family, actually. It’s against tribal law for us to kill them. Pretty sure the wolves respect us, too. It’s like a…you know, silent agreement that we don’t fuck with each other,” He replied, a smile twitching on his lips now. I felt relief wash over me as the joking atmosphere caused the thick tension to simmer down almost immediately, and a slight smile crept onto my own lips. I shifted onto my other hip, my body starting to ache slightly from holding its frozen position for too long. The beam of light encircling us bounced off the trees and his body briefly as I moved my wrist around in response to the tension in it from holding the heavy flashlight.
“Ah, gotcha. So they just intentionally target the random scientist living out in the woods,” I responded sarcastically, my voice now almost as smooth as his.
He nodded, his smile stretching into a grin at my returned playfulness.
“Exactly, now you’re getting it.” He laughed as he spoke, and his own body language seemed to relax with the physical release of the sound from deep in his chest. His expression was more calm as well, his dark eyes not as sharp and accusatory, face less drawn and intense. He was actually quite breathtaking, his cheekbones prominent under his richly tanned skin. He cleared his throat, glancing at his feet briefly before he looked back up to me.
“So, uh, you aren’t like, actually lost, right? You know how to get back to your…shack?” He scratched the back of his neck, humor on his face as he knowingly insulted my current home. I snorted, rolling my eyes in response.
“No, I’m not lost. Just didn’t bring my usual nighttime gear. Wasn’t expecting to be coming back this late,”
He nodded knowingly, standing again and pulling himself upright so that he was no longer leaning on the tree.
“Sure, sure, so, uh… don’t need me to walk you there?” He asked, an eyebrow raising again and the flicker of humor still in his eyes. I considered for a moment, the idea of this strange, attractive man walking me home peaking my interest but being quickly waved away by my own logic.
“Kinda weird that you know where I live,” I muttered, glancing over my shoulder down the narrow path I stood on. He chuckled, a sympathetic smile reaching his eyes.
“The whole tribe knows where you live, sweetheart.” Was that supposed to be as comforting as my brain perceived it to be? I couldn’t quite place the cause of the feeling, but this oddly massive young man felt so uniquely serene to me. He gave off a neutral energy, one that felt strangely safe. Maybe I was truly going insane, a week in the wilderness being all my anxious brain needed to finally snap. At least my hallucinations were pleasant… and muscular. A part of me flickered, a dark little corner deep inside that had cobwebs and dust across every square inch, and I realized I hadn’t felt attraction for anyone in quite a while. And, while I wasn’t necessarily attracted to this stranger, he was physically impressive, and my brain was noticing it. That was something my brain hadn’t done in a long time. Numbness will do that to a girl, I supposed.
“Well that’s…” I trailed off, not really knowing at all how I felt or how to respond, and I narrowed my eyes as I shuffled onto my other foot and glanced to the ground. I heard another deep chuckle from him and looked up. His lips were pulled together in a line; he was trying hard not to laugh.
“What’s your name, anyway?” The question left my mouth before I was aware I was asking it. He seemed just as surprised as I was at my interest. I realized it was probably occurring to both of us right then that we were still very much strangers to each other.
He put both of his hands in his pockets, his shoulders squaring out.
“Jacob Black,” he answered, “yours?”
That sounded right, I thought to myself. If my memory served me correctly, the man at the grocery store who was apparently his father was called Billy Black. I felt myself relax more as his story was proving itself to be solid.
“Harley,” I replied, feeling comfortable enough now to reach back with my left hand and shove the bear spray into the pocket of my backpack. His face responded by appearing surprised, then confused, then slightly amused.
“Like the motorcycles?” Jacob chuckled, a grin returning to his mouth. I resisted the eye roll that begged to display itself on my face. Every teenage boy in my childhood had mocked my name. I’d grown to love it, eventually, appreciating that it was part of who I was.
“My Dad was a big fan of riding when he was younger,” I mumbled, shrugging and turning my body back towards the trail that led home. I peered at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, smiling widely.
“Pretty cool.” His voice was soft and gentle. I hadn’t heard that kind of tone of voice from him yet, and it caused me to turn to look at him fully. I smiled back when I saw the glint of genuine interest in his eyes. He wasn’t mocking me.
“Thanks,” I replied, then awkwardly pointed my flashlight to direct the light across the trail, “I should be getting back. Need to get my wood stove going and…stuff.” I started to move forward again, my body angling down the path.
Jacob nodded, his smile not leaving.
“You got a last name?”
The question caught me off guard, and I turned back to narrow my eyes at him. It seemed like every word out of this guy’s mouth took me by surprise.
“Why? Gonna stalk me now?” I quipped. He snorted again, running a hand through his thick cropped hair.
“Naw, too busy for that. Just wanna know your whole name,” he replied, his eyes crinkling with a gentle grin.
“Sullivan,” I responded as I started to turn away again, moving my feet down the trail to continue my walk home now that the adrenaline was exiting my body and leaving behind exhaustion in its place.
“Well it was nice to meet you, Harley Sullivan. I’ll see you around…try not to let the bears getchya,” I heard his voice resound after me through the trees as he turned away as well, continuing his odd barefoot trek.
I grinned, now that I was facing down the trail and knew he wouldn’t be able to see it.
“Nice to meet you too, Jacob Black. And I’ll try my best,” I called, knowing that he could probably hear my grin in my voice regardless, and tilted my head to project my words back towards him as I kept my legs moving, eager to slide into a warm bed.
After loading the wood stove up with logs and downing some canned soup and one of the cookies Sue had slipped into my pack, I made sure the door was locked and the blinds were down, and slipped under my blankets. It didn’t take long before I was falling down into sweet sleep, the mental image of a large grey wolf yet again being the last thing I saw.
The next day played out rather similarly to the days that had come before it, and I found myself enjoying the comfort of routine. My life had been a series of uncertain and difficult days following one after the other before I had moved, and the serenity of being truly alone was surely reaping its benefits. I felt more comfortable within my self. I started to become more tuned in to my body’s messages and signs, the ways that I worked best when challenged. The harsh wilderness of Washington definitely threw curveballs straight towards me, and I became more confident in my own abilities to deal with them on my own. As I set up multiple temporary camps a day to sit and study the birds, I found my mind flickering to the mysterious Jacob Black more and more frequently. Our conversation played in my mind more times than I wanted to admit.
‘The last few of you scientists that were out here had to leave early…’
Why had he said that? Did the guy just have a weird humor, or was he trying to scare me? I understood the possibility of an animosity towards outsiders, but something about Jacob Black was warm and inviting rather than the cold front he clearly tried to display.
I wanted to head down to the beach again a few days later, and was glad I did. The weather was nice, not as windy as it had been and the sun was making her appearance. The amount of Puffins out on the rocks was impressive, and I was able to get some solid behavioral data down in my journal. My favorite member of the flock, Frank, even made his way onto the beach. I watched and laughed as he desperately tried to impress the females, grunting and showing off his exquisite nest building skills.
The sun began to set around 7:00pm, and I didn’t feel too anxious to rush home. I’d brought my whistle, my headlamp, trekking poles, bear spray and more snacks this time. The trail from the beach to my cabin was one of the shorter hikes I’d come to familiarize myself with, and I felt confident in my knowledge of the quickest way back at this point. I now spent my days in their entirety walking these woods, and the land was beginning to feel comforting & familiar. I unzipped my backpack, searching through its contents. I pulled out the bag of chips I’d brought, cracking them open and beginning to munch them as I watched the puffins settle into their burrows for the night along the rocky faces adjacent the beach. The sun was beginning to glow a staggering fiery orange behind the sea, and I sighed heavily as I took in the sight. I felt lucky to be living in such a breathtaking place, so connected to nature. I didn’t realize how much I had felt like a zombie before, back in Maine, trudging numbly and blindly through my days as I succumbed to whatever life had thrown at me. Not even pretending to be shocked whenever my ex had lied or cheated or called me ‘too sensitive’. Acting as though I couldn’t see the look of concern and pity on my best friend Naomi’s face when she asked if I was truly, honestly happy. I hadn’t been happy, not even close, but I’d somehow convinced myself that I didn’t deserve trying to be. How did I let that happen? I’d spent far too long somewhere else, anywhere else but my own mind. A defense mechanism? I didn’t know. But I wanted to make a promise to myself that I’d never again deny myself an opportunity, a chance at happiness. This was going to be the start of keeping that promise. I already felt lighter; I felt giddy, almost. I felt like I’d done years of self growth in the two weeks I’d been in La Push. I continued chowing down on my chips, deep in introspection, and watched the sun glimmer and lower herself down into the dark ocean waves miles away. A familiar, deep voice pulled me abruptly from my mind’s quiet ramblings.
“Well, well, well…If it isn’t the bird girl.”
My head snapped to the direction of the clear sound, my mouth halting in its chewing motion. My eyes landed on four tall male frames strolling down the sand towards me. I swallowed my current mouthful of chips and placed the bag down next to me, wiping my salty hands off on my pants. Jacob’s wide shoulders and lean frame were immediately recognizable, and a smirk crept up onto his face as our eyes met. I quickly took in the other three faces, and was unsurprised to see they were just as oddly impressive looking as Jacob. They had to be the others from outside the restaurant that night.
“Well, if it isn’t the shirtless stalker,” I jived back, crossing my arms loosely and letting my elbows rest on my knees that were pulled up to my chest. He grinned, and I noted to myself that his friends were definitely less intense than him, their features less sharp and perpetually angry looking. They stopped when they got to where I was seated along the sand, and Jacob gestured down to the huge driftwood log that was laid on its side to my right.
“You mind if we join you?” His voice was as playful as I remembered it. And just as surprisingly soothing, too.
I shrugged.
“Sure, if you wanna hang out with the bird girl,” I responded, throwing a grin at his friends as they seemingly waited for me to grant them the permission to sit down. One particular member of the group, more slender and boyish than the rest, grinned back eagerly. His expression was kind and genuine, and it warmed me immediately. The boys sat, and Jacob put his hands down on either side of his thighs as he studied me closely.
“So,” he cocked his head to the side and glanced down at my journal in the sand, “what is it exactly that you…do? Do you just,” he pointed at the Puffins grouping together several yards away along the rocks, “watch those guys do their thing?”
I laughed, his expression so clearly displaying his sincere attempt to not be too mean or sarcastic.
“Honestly, that’s essentially exactly what I do,” I replied with a grin. He beamed back, and I wondered where the harshness had gone that he’d first greeted me with the other night in the woods. I glanced pointedly over to the three men sitting alongside him on the twisted driftwood, and he followed my gaze.
“Oh, uh, Harley, this is Embry, Seth, and Jared,”he mumbled, pointing at each boy as he said their name, “Guys, this is Harley… Sullivan.” He added my last name like an afterthought, with a glance and a wink back at me. My face flushed with warmth, and I ripped my attention away from Jacob to look at each of the other mens’ faces. I noticed as Jacob pointed them out that the one with the sweet boyish face was Seth, and I offered him another smile. He returned it, and his gentle voice was musical in his greeting.
“Nice to meet you finally. Jacob’s been talkin’ about you nonstop-” Seth’s words were immediately cut off when Jacob’s long arm reached over & behind Embry to smack the back of Seth’s head. His smile didn’t falter, though he rubbed the back of his head and his eyes squinted slightly as he recoiled away from Jacob on the makeshift bench. Soft laughter filled the air as everyone reacted to Jacob’s obvious embarrassment. I stifled my own laugh, only to let it flow freely with the others when I saw that Seth seemed not at all phased by Jacob’s smack.
“Nice to meet you guys too,” I replied softly, trying to meet all of their eyes and ignore the instinctual intimidation factor caused by their immense sizes, “Do you all live on the reservation?”
Each of them nodded, and Seth eagerly replied.
“Yeah, my mom and dad actually run the restaurant down the road. Think we saw you there the other night. You probably met my mom, Sue.”
My brain immediately made the connections, and I suddenly understood why I felt so warm in his presence…like mother, like son.
“Oh, wow, yeah - your Mom is amazing! I’m sure you know that, but… she gave me free cookies and everything. And she talked about you and your sister a lot. She, like really loves you guys,” I said excitedly, remembering the kind way that Sue had handled me the other day, the motherly atmosphere she had created so effortlessly. Jacob interjected into our conversation then, his voice louder than Seth’s and overpowering. “Yeah, Sue’s an angel. Basically like a stand-in Mom for whoever needs one. Which is practically all of us,” he added the last part with a sad laugh.
I spent the next two hours on the beach with the four boys, Jacob and Embry building a small driftwood fire in the sand as the orange sun set behind the dark ocean. I learned more about each of them, though Jacob was the most reserved when it came to information. We laughed as we passed around two extra large cans of Twisted Tea that Jared had brought in his small backpack. I took it slow, knowing the large boys could probably handle a significantly higher amount of alcohol than I could. It didn’t take long for them to no longer feel like strangers to me. There was something so welcoming about each of them, something so safe, again.
I shivered and grabbed my grey hoodie from out of my pack as the sun completely dissapeared. The fire crackled loudly in the center of our small group, and Jacob had eventually made his way to sit down on the sand next to me.
“Cold?” He questioned as I pulled the hoodie over my head, his brow arched. I shivered and chattered my teeth for extra drama and flashed a grin at him.
“Sorry I’m not a weirdo who can just be shirtless all the time and not be affected by how legitimately freezing it is,” I replied, my elbow coming out to gently jab him in the ribs. He feigned offense, gripping his side as though I’d stabbed him, though the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile.
“Hey now, I’m wearing a shirt today!” His fingers tugged at the shoulders of his black garment, a tank top that had clearly once been a tshirt, its sleeves cropped off bluntly. The edges of the fabric were frayed, and I noticed a stray thread hanging down over the top of his bicep. I unthinkingly reached out to pull the loose thread off, swiping my pointer finger and thumb together to brush the thread off of them once it was removed from his shirt. I glanced up and felt blood rush to my face. His dark eyes were piercing into mine, his gaze serious and calm. I quickly turned my eyes back to the fire, making an effort to pay attention to the conversation being had between the other boys.
“Yeah, and I mean that’s like the top cliff. That’s like 50 feet or something. I’m thinking I’ll try that one tomorrow.”
“Psh, that one’s pretty mild honestly.”
“Mild? Yeah, okay Jared. You’re starting to sound like Paul.”
I glanced up to the three of them as they spoke, my interest peaked at the boyish pissing contest they were apparently having over…?
“Cliffs?” My voice broke through their bickering, and all three pairs of eyes were on me. I saw Jacob glance over as well from the corner of my eye.
Jared was the first to answer now, his soft brown eyes seeming to flicker at both the subject matter and my sudden interest.
“Oh, yeah, we go cliff jumping. Pretty often, actually. It’s a total blast.” I cocked my head attentively, finding his blatant excitement for the activity to be a contagiously joyous thing to witness. I’d been cliff jumping before, though only at the small lakes around Maine, and definitely not anything close to the 50 foot heights Jared was referring to. Well, I was making new friends, discovering this new version of myself here in La Push, why not take some new risks?
“That sounds pretty fun. Can I come?” I responded eagerly, flashing a grin at him. He raised his eyebrows, and all three of the other boys seemed to follow his lead, Embry even throwing a glance to Seth before looking back at me.
“Yeah right,” Jacob grunted, a disbelieving smile on his face as he shook his head. I looked over my right shoulder at him, a half serious scowl on my face. His gaze flickered up to mine, and his mischievous eyes widened.
“You’re serious?” His tone was skeptical, his face more critical now. I slowly nodded with an expression of confusion in response to his disbelief. Suddenly, his features sharpened and his eyes were no longer playful. He scoffed under his breath.
“Definitely not. You can forget about that.”
I crossed my arms, my scowl deepening momentarily before a smirk pulled itself up onto my mouth.
“Is it cuz I’m the weird bird girl? Can’t hang with the cool kids, huh?” My question caught Jacob off guard, his jaw and brows slacking and his eyes quickly flitting over to my face.
“What? No, I-,” he started, before he saw the look on my face and quickly realized I was joking. He snorted and shook his head.
“The cliffs we go on are definitely not beginner friendly. The waters cold, it’s crazy choppy if it’s windy. Plus you’re too…I mean, I don’t know...”
I feigned deep offense, scoffing and letting my mouth drop open in disbelief, my hand coming to rest on my chest as if he’d wounded me.
A slew of comical, suspense filled “oooh”s sounded out from the other boys.
“Too what?”
“You’d get hurt, kid.” I shook my head in more dramatized shock as Jacob nonchalantly continued to barely meet my accusatory gaze.
“Kid?!”
“Yeah, aren’t you like, what, 18?” My face drew together in a tangled reaction to his ridiculous words. I pursed my lips, biting at the bottom one for a thoughtful moment before remembering from my childhood that obnoxious boys are only snuffed out by the refusal to add fuel to their fire. I dismissively turned my attention back to the one person I had a feeling would back me up. I met Seth’s kind eyes, and his smile was expectant.
“So, tomorrow. What time and where?” I asked him casually, completely ignoring the look of utter surprise that I was receiving from a seemingly baffled Jacob at my side. Seth glanced warily at him, before his shoulders slumped.
“Aw c’mon, Jake. She can do the lower ones, can’t she?” Seth whined.
“I can do whatever I want!” I griped, shooting Jacob an icy look.
Jacob shrugged and broke a small twig from beside him into smaller pieces before throwing them all into the flames.
“Technically, since she’s 18, she can do whatever she wants,” Jacob’s low voice muttered out.
I tried to stifle my laugh, but it broke through my lips that I had tried flattening into a line to hold back the release of air.
As the giggle fell from my mouth, Jacob’s eyes flashed from the fire to my face, a grin breaking across his features, one that made his eyes crinkle up. Once my giggling subsided, I turned to him with a forced serious expression.
“How old are you, anyway?” My voice was accusatory, though Jacob did look older than me, I had to admit. All of the boys did, what with their impressively large bodies and suspiciously wise eyes.
“I’m 24,” He mumbled, his warm eyes moving calmly back to the bright flames of the bonfire.
“See? We’re the exact same age,” I scoffed, shaking my head in disapproval.
A chuckle rumbled from Jake’s chest, and a smirk lifted his mouth ever so slightly.
“Yeah, sure kid.”
I grumbled and pointedly got up, moving to sit next to Seth on the other side of the fire, childishly making an emphasized show of my mock offense. Jake shot me a dramatically heartbroken look. The boys laughed, and Seth nudged my arm softly, that kind smile of his resting on his cheeks.
“Hey, you’re older than me, at least! I’m 22.”
The rest of the time on the beach passed quickly, banter and laughter weaving through our conversations. Jacob seemed almost…on edge, still, despite the playful demeanor with which he interacted with the group. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I felt sure that I could be totally wrong about something bothering him; I hadn’t known him for long, what if this was just the way he was? The rest of the boys regarded him with such a high respect that was evident even through their boyish insulting of one another. It was clear he was the leader of their group, whatever that might entail.
Embry asked me about my family at one point, if anyone had been upset that I had wanted to move out here alone. It was clear that imperfect parental relations were a common theme in our little group, as all four boys nodded empathetically at my brief mention of the death of my mother and the even more brief explanation of my lack of a father figure.
“My best friend Naomi is the one person back in Maine who I almost stayed there for. But she would never let me do that,” I’d said, a reminiscent smile on my face when I thought of the ginger-haired, vibrant woman who loved me fiercely.
“Well, we’re glad she didn’t,” Seth had responded gently.
We unanimously decided that the guys would hike to my cabin around 10am the next day so that we could go to the cliffs together. I’d gotten a good amount of data logged after my day at the beach, and I knew a day or two off was well deserved, if not needed at this point. They were going to bring me to a section of cliffs that was not their usual, ‘advanced’ spot, as far as Jacob was concerned.
After a while, our places around the fire shifted again, and Seth and Embry went home around ten o’clock, quite unenthusiastically. Apparently, their moms wanted them home by 10:30 and they ‘didn’t wanna deal with the trouble of breaking curfew’. Jared lingered for a while longer, but after yawning an excessive amount of times within a five minute period, he gave into his exhaustion and admitted he wanted to head to bed. They each gave me hugs before they left, and I was giddy with the idea that I’d seemed to make some real friends. Ones that would take me cliff diving on a whim.
“Well, you should be calling it a night, Harley. Gotta get that beauty sleep if you’re gonna be a pro diver tomorrow,” Jacob remarked around 10:45, once it was just the two of us chatting as we sat on the sand. I had been actively shivering for the past twenty minutes, so I nodded in agreement, the idea of a warm house sounding like heaven.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Though, the night had been so fun, I was rather reluctant to end it. Plus, it would take a bit to get the house warmed up again; the fire in the wood burning stove was probably out by now, I’d added logs to it early that morning before I left. That was well over twelve hours ago. I threw my head back and let out a tired groan at the dreadful thought of having to carry the freezing cold wood in from the stack outside and get the fire going.
Jake shot me a mildly concerned look, his eyebrows raised. I blushed slightly when I saw his expression. I was still getting used to being around other humans and not expressing my every thought and emotion outwardly like I did when I was alone.
“Ugh, I’m gonna have to get my stove going back at the house. Just a nuisance, ya know? I wanna climb into bed and pass out,” I grumbled. Jacob chuckled and shook his head.
“I’ll help. You saw how fast we got this one crankin’?” He spoke with pride, gesturing toward the small bonfire. I smiled, watching the warm orange light flicker off his features, his tan skin giving off a striking ember tone, and the shadows under his cheekbones and nose making him look even more like a statuesque figure.
“I’ll gladly take that offer,” I replied, starting to stretch my legs and pull myself up off the ground. Jake put the fire out, snuffing it as much as possible with sand and then gesturing for me to handle over my large water bottle before he poured it over the flaming embers.
The short hike through the dark woods back to my house was filled with giggles and hushed whispers as Jake taunted me about bears and wolves, even jump scaring me at one point from behind after a brief lull of silence fell between us. Once we reached my front porch, the glow of my solar string lights I’d hung up guiding us trough the final few dozen yards towards it, Jacob gestured to the large woodpile stacked on the side of the cabin.
“You’re gonna need some more before winter,” he mumbled as he strode over to the pile, effortlessly picking up five or six of the large logs. My mouth gaped as I watched his massive arms throw the logs up into the crook of his elbow, not even a sound of effort or strain coming from his mouth. He turned back toward the porch once his arms were full, and froze when he saw my face. A slight, impish grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“What?” He asked, though my expression was obviously one of astonishment at his sheer strength. I shook my head in response, rolling my eyes and shooting a returning grin before I gingerly walked up the wooden steps, unlocking the front door and holding it open for him. He ducked his head slightly as he walked under the door frame, and headed for the wood stove in the corner of the living room. He immediately got to work, using the handheld ax I had resting on the stove to break the logs up into slightly smaller pieces. I watched him, sitting on the couch and shivering, rubbing my hands together and eventually wrapping my large fleece green blanket around my body.
“Not very spacious in here, huh?” He didn’t look at me while he spoke as he focused, carefully laying logs in perfect position in the stove, crumbling up the newspaper stacked next to it to use as kindling. I shrugged.
“Heats up fast at least.”
He nodded, tilting his head to the side in thoughtful agreement as he grabbed the long lighter from the coffee table.
“True.”
After Jake got the fire roaring with an ease that I didn’t want to admit, he stood up, brushing his pant legs off and sighing contently.
“Well, there ya go. Now you can be toasty warm all night.”
I beamed at him, standing up off the couch with the blanket still fully wrapped around me.
“Thanks, Jake. Very impressive fire-building skills,” I joked.
He met my eyes as he looked away from his crackling, blazing masterpiece, and immediately chuckled. I furrowed my brow.
“What’s funny?” I asked incredulously. He put his fist over his mouth and bent slightly forward at the hips, his laugh rolling deeply through his chest. He took a deep breath once he was done laughing at me and sighed heavily, pointing at my blanketed body.
“You look like a little burrito.”
I rolled my eyes, pulling the blanket more tightly around me and wiggling my body around, a laugh hitting me as well as I imagined what I likely looked like. After we calmed down from the wave of breathless laughter that came over us, his features became faintly softer. He looked into my eyes, smiling warmly.
“I’m glad you were down at the beach today….We’ll be here tomorrow morning, yeah?” He confirmed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. I nodded, my cheeks warming and my expression mirroring his.
“Yeah, I’ll be here,” I sighed, “I don’t travel very far, easy to find me,” I joked with a shrug of my blanket, earning another soft chortle from Jacob. I got more serious, and nodded again, my smile softening.
“And, uh, yeah… I’m glad I was on the beach today too,” I added, glancing at the floor, kicking myself internally for being awkward. Before I knew it, Jake’s arms were around me, enveloping me in a musky, woody smell. Once I realized he was hugging me, I smiled against his broad chest, and noted to myself how insanely warm his skin felt, burning through the fabric of his shirt. I figured it must be from him sitting so close to the hot fire as he built it minutes prior. I wrapped my own arms around his waist as much as I could, my arms restricted by the blanket, and Jake’s long arms trapping my shoulders slightly. He held on for only a moment, long enough for my arms to linger for a second, before he pulled away and grinned at me goofily.
“See ya in the morning, kid,” He teased, backing away coolly and wrapping his hand around the doorknob of the front door, shooting me a wink and pulling it open. Before I could respond with anything more than what felt like my hundredth eye roll of the night, he was out the door. The silence of the house was suddenly quite jarring after his distinctive voice had been filling it only moments before. I went over to the door, locking the bolt behind him. It almost would have felt like he hadn’t been there, but his scent lingered. The crisp, musky arborous smell from his skin floated still in the warm air. I now noticed there was also a hint of gasoline or oil to it, like a mechanic’s garage. The smell was invigorating, so unique in a way that I’d never experienced before. I took in a sharp breath, smiling to myself as I thought back on the events of the night. I clambered over to my bedroom, keeping myself swaddled in my burrito, and threw myself down on the bed, sighing loudly. After several minutes of overthinking about the commitment I’d made the next morning - what was I thinking? Cliff diving in September in Washington? - I eventually dosed off, oddly familiar images enveloping me into deep sleep.
A/N: yes, I promise this is still a Paul fic. In fact, I’m currently writing his big sexy entrance into the story right now. Very pumped. Obnoxiously, I’m again tagging everyone that read up to chapter 3, cuz I feel like you guys deserve to know what happened after that cliffhanger considering it’s been like two fricken weeks or something!! Life got rly busy crazy but writing always makes me so happy and zen so I’m glad I’m getting this posted now. Im feelin rly excited about it so hopefully the next FEW chapters will be posted this week! Purrrr! If you want me to stop tagging u pls let me know LOL. So thankful for you guys reading along, this story has been in my mind for a while and I’m having so much fun bringing my daydream to life! And it’s so ridiculously cool that other people also enjoy the magical world of fanfic as much as I do, it’s like a little private secret bestie club I LOVE IT. Also, pls let me know if you guys have any fluffy/smutty imagines you’d like, I love love love taking requests! Enjoy <3 :-)
@carrrieeexu @living-that-best-life @hotheadwolf @avis15 @gugi7171773 @neo-grey @bbywonu @wilmasvensson @lostwandererkat @littlep2014
#twilight#fanfic#imagines#paul lahote#paullahote#twilight imagines#jacob black#fanfiction#paullahoteimagine
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A list of all my favourite MAX PHILLIPS Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.
PART 1
Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤
⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.
Screwed Up & Brilliant - @psychedelic-ink
The Only Thing We Have To Fuck Is Fear Itself & I Wanna Do Bad Things With You Series - @chronically-ghosted
Blood Makes Noise - @chronically-ghosted
You May Be Dead, But I'm Still Pretty - @chronically-ghosted
After Dark, Domum Series Witch!Reader & Never Going Back Werewolf!Max - @juletheghoul
Promotion & Get Ate (Literally) - @cevans-is-classic
Max Phillips Masterlist - @absurdthirst Lots to bite on!
I Cannot Get You Close Enough - @leslie-lyman Alpha!Max
God Is A Woman - @wheresarizona
Reverse Cowgirl & Max One Shots List - @prolix-yuy
Warmth - @simpingcowboy
Overstimulated, Kinktober 22 Monster Fucking & Kinktober 22 Double Penetration - @misspearly1
The Lamb & The Wolf & Fearless - @tropes-and-tales
Christmas Cravings - @scorpio-marionette
Max Phillips Masterlist - @supernaturalgirl20 Couldn't choose just one!
The Monster You Know & On His Knees - @outercrasis
To Taste You - @whiskeynwriting
Dating Max Phillips - @corrupt-fvcker
Blood Sugar - @pumpkin-stars
All For Me - @jettia
The Retreat Series - @starlightmornings
Anonymous Sex - @queridopascal
Max & Dave York Request - @honestly-shite Featuring Dave York
Red Letter Day Series - @imtryingmybeskar
Two For One - @suzdin Featuring Dave York
Red Right Hand - @wannab-urs
Lessons - @bonezone44
A Real Challenge - @gasolinerainbowpuddles
#pedro pascal characters#fic recs#max phillips#bloodsucking bastards#bloodsucking bosses#max phillips bloodsucking bastards#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips vampire#bam snap!#pedro pascal character fics#pedro pascal universe
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Christmas Party
Day 18
Summary: You’re invited to the management Christmas party…but it’s not what you expected.
Pairings: Max Phillips x You, Max Phillips x Female Reader
Fandom: Bloodsucking Bastards
Rating: Mature
Warnings: language, vampires, talk of orgies, creepy coworkers
Word Count: 1,134
Day 17 Day 19 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist
You sat quietly at your desk watching the rest of the office staff milling about, enjoying the Christmas party. You were already over it. You just wanted to go home and relax. Not be stuck at work hours after end of day pretending to have fun with people you barely tolerated.
“Having fun?” Tom from accounting asked as he perched on the side of your desk.
“A blast,” you deadpanned.
“Grab a drink and join us,” Tom insisted. “Live a little.”
“Maybe in a bit,” you told him to get him to leave. He was such a creep, and you didn’t want to encourage him.
“I’ll be waiting,” he promised and left, but not without checking out your tits first. You shuddered in disgust. He was fifteen years older than you, about forty pounds overweight, and missing a good chunk of hair from the top of his head. But that wasn’t even what turned you off of him. No, his personality was the absolute worst and he hit on anything that moved. More disgustingly, he was married and had children. You shook your head. You felt sorry for his poor wife.
“Hey there!” Phil, the assistant director of sales breezed over. You perked up slightly since he was one of your direct bosses. Didn’t want to piss him off with your lousy attitude.
“Hi, Phil,” you replied. He looked around and took a sip from his red solo cup.
“So, this party is kinda lame,” he said nonchalantly. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped. Phil smiled. He had always been nice to you, but there was something unsettling about him…probably the whole vampire thing. Half the office was vampires, which was super weird, but they were amazing workers, so everyone just went with it.
“I’ve been to better parties,” you told him.
“Wanna go to one right now?” He asked.
“Another party?” You brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yeah,” he replied. “There’s a party for upper management on the top floor. Max organizes it every year, and it’s way more fun than this one.” Max Phillips was the head of the company—and also a vampire. He was an asshole, but he was so sexy it hurt to look at him. You had a massive crush on him.
“Upper management, hmm?” You pondered. Most of the upper management were vampires. Only a few humans retained those coveted spots. “I don’t think I’m invited to that party.”
“I’m inviting you,” Phil insisted. “You can be my plus one.” You chewed your lip. You didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary…but you kind of wanted to see Max tonight. His flirty comments and hot looks helped fuel your late night fantasies.
“Come on…it’ll be fun!” Phil insisted.
“Alright,” you agreed. You’d go up and hang for an hour and then head home. It was perfect actually. Everyone on your floor would assume you were upstairs, and the upper management people would think you went back to your floor to rejoin the party. You’d be home much sooner than anticipated this way. “Just for a bit. I don’t want to make anyone jealous.”
“Well, alright then,” Phil laughed. “Let’s go.” He led you to the elevators, and swiped his key card. You waited quietly while you climbed to the top floor. The doors opened into the lobby and you both stepped out.
“It’s in the big conference room,” Phil told you. He put his hand on your lower back to steer you towards the party. You had only gone a few steps when Max came walking out of his office.
“There’s my favorite sales associate!” He said happily. He walked over and squeezed your shoulder in greeting. Your body tingled from his touch.
“Hi, Mr Phillips,” you said softly.
“Please, I’ve told you a hundred times, call me Max,” he insisted. He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, “You only call me Mr. Phillips in the bedroom, got it?” You swallowed thickly. He had never been quite that forward before, and you weren’t sure what to think.
“What are you doing up here?” He asked you.
“I brought her,” Phil answered for you. Your brain was still misfiring from Max’s comment. “She’s my plus one to the party.”
“What?” Max half shouted. “No. No, no, no. She’s not going to the party.” You felt your cheeks heat in embarrassment.
“I told you,” you turned to Phil. “I’m not upper management.”
“That’s not why you can’t go to the party, sweet cheeks,” Max told you. “Phil why don’t you continue on, and I’ll take care of my girl here?” You heart stuttered at him calling you his girl.
“But she wants to go…with me,” Phil said standing his ground.
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Max said menacingly. Were they fighting over you? “Now get lost.” Phil stared Max down. Max growled—actually growled—and Phil scampered off.
“What was that all about?” You asked in bewilderment.
“You’re not going anywhere near the management party, honey,” Max said.
“Why?”
“Because it’s not a normal party,” he replied.
“What kind of party is it?” He looked like he didn’t want to answer. “Max?”
“It’s an orgy,” he finally admitted.
“What?” You shouted.
“Shh,” he hushed. “They’re not the far away and vampire hearing is insanely good.”
“You’re telling me all the managers are currently fucking in your conference room?”
“Yup,” he said casually. “Vampires love a good orgy, so I organize one a few times a year. Christmas is the only time we allow humans to join.”
“I, uh, what….I don’t know what to say,” you sputtered. “I guess, sorry I interrupted your orgy? I’ll just be going now.”
“No you don’t,” Max said and wrapped an arm around your waist as you turned to leave. He pulled you into his chest. “I wasn’t participating in the orgy, gorgeous.”
“You weren’t?”
“Nah,” he shrugged. “I haven’t since you came to work for us.”
“Why?”
“Because the only woman I want to fuck is you.” Your eyes widened.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I thought I made that pretty obvious,” he said with a grin.
“I didn’t realize you were serious, I just thought you were a flirt.”
“Well, I am a flirt, but it’s different with you,” Max said. “Are you interested in me?”
“Yes,” you blurted out immediately. He smiled hugely.
“Good,” he replied. “Then let’s get outta here. We can grab some dinner and go back to my penthouse…get to know each other a little better.”
“Ok,” she replied in shock. How was this happening right now?
“Perfect,” Max said. He steered you towards the elevators. Just as the doors closed you heard loud moans coming from the conference room. You burst into giggles, and Max pulled you in for a kiss.
Day 19
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Every one simps for bad boy emo vampire Kieran Valentine, but y'all are sleepin on bad girl emo vampire Elissabat. Seriously, girl really ain't so innocent. She really abandoned her people and left them in the hands of a supremacist, because she "wasn't that big on politics". Girl really said "I'm gonna trade this life for fortune and fame, I'll even cut my hair and change my name."
Honestly, what a girl boss. Go girl, give them nothing.
Also, let's not forget, she is a bloodsucker. Girl has probably murdered someone.
#satire#monster high#elissabat#elissabat stoker#lord stoker#girl boss#kieran valentine#vampire#queen#pls don't take this seriously
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Smut
Darling 18+
Crushing on Larissa Weems leads to her needing help to destress, your the only one she wants to use
My mistake 18+
You were her brat, and she’s always managed to tame you but what happens when you accidentally unlock a new kink
Be my good girl 18+
Larissa can’t resist her good girl especially in these outfits
Who says 18+
Date night with Larissa Weems
Mine 18+
Jealousy is a powerful force one that this time got what you desired
Those dresses 18+
Your baby gay crush on your boss leads to confusion and confessions
Experimenting 18+
Larissa knows just what to do to help you get your groove back
Your first 18+
Growing up you were ridiculed for waiting for the right person but now with her you are glad you did
Your rightful place 18+
Staff meetings lead to Larissa needing to put her girl in her place
Hidden meanings 18+
You are just full of surprises
The first heat with you 18+
A common thing for werwolves only leading to Larissa getting the time of her life
You’re not mad? 18+
Part two to the first heat with you
My brat 18+
When the plans backfired…
My minx 18+ / you little minx 18+ (part 2)
One thinks you knew was, being a brat = attention , and the part two for this fic
Innocent dove 18+
You’re so innocent, corruptible, Larissa can’t help herself, she has to have you
Happy to see you 18+
You can’t help the primal instinct to make her yours… can you?
Accidentally on purpose 18+
You really should learn to knock… well maybe next time you’ll remember Larissa may have company
Not so dirty secret 18+
Two shifters, some wine and the best night of your life
Not odd but unique 18+
You’ve always known you were different to the standard female but Larissa had never known why simply because it didn’t matter to her. You’re still stunning no matter what
Be my good doll 18+
Your bratty nature finally met it’s match when Larissa Weems became your Dominant
Play a game 18+
Drunk words are a sober woman’s thoughts which with the help of a little game creates magic
Precious doll 18+
A standard night in your life with daddy Larissa
Private party 18+
Diving into a new kink couldn’t have gone any better for you and your girlfriend
Let’s try something new 18+
Trying new things with your lover couldn’t be better
Private dancer 18+
Part two to rhythm is a dancer
A different kind of lesson 18+
Trying out a new class
Play thing 18+
Larissa has just the thing to cure your boredom
Try me 18+
Larissa adores when you try to test her patience yet you always seem to lose your nerve
Sleeping beauty 18+
One thing about Larissa is no matter what she’ll take care of you
Woodland walks 18+
Walking in the woods with a little spice
Tempers like a flame 18+
You always knew she was a tease
Need a hand? 18+
Poor baby needing you to get off
Talk dirty to me 18+
Dirty texts are the best type of foreplay, isn’t that right?
Green eyed monster 18+
Jealousy is a powerful thing
Say it again 18+
Playing around to find boundaries
Unexpectedly 18+
A gay girls dream of playing with milf
What’s foretold 18+
One awkward vision became the best night of your life
Birthdays are hard but so am I 18+
Larissa helps with your issues about your birthday
Massage 18+
The aftermath of a session
Gay bar 18+
A trip to the gay bar brought you her
My bloodsucker 18+
Finding and marking your mate in the most unusual circumstance
Time for us 18+
You can’t help but pull away as her interest in you fades… or has it?
Use me 18+
You’d be a horrible lover if you didn’t provide your girl with something you knew she needed and you could provide
Thin line 18+
A very thin line between love and hate. Never said it was straight
My hoodie 18+
New daily need, Larissa in your hoodie as you rail her senseless
Bump 18+
Carrying your own born child only sends Larissa’s jealousy and overprotective levels through the roof
Am I yours? 18+
After a night together she pushes you away. Are you here or not?
Smoke and mirrors 18+
Was it all just smoke and mirrors back then?
Surprise gift 18+
Honestly, you don’t know if you should thank your friend or strangle them after this incident
Needy omega 18+
You are never forgetful, but at least this once it may have all worked out in the end
Deja vu 18+
You swear you’ve been here before
Life with you 18+
Life events with Larissa Weems, from marriage to a baby how will things change
Strip for me 18+
You meet Larissa Weems at work, instantly she wants you and is determined to do anything she can to get you
Queen of the show 18+
What happens when Larissa asks to joining your stream after getting jealous of all the woman who want you. Will you show the world your love?
Unwrap me 18+
A gift and a hobby combined with the holiday season gives you the best present of all
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Imagine Pip Turning Halloween Into A Date Night
Pip Bernadotte X FemReader
Rating: T+
Warnings: Blood, Pip’s a flirt, suggestive themes, violence, and mentions of death
Word Count: 786
Pip Bernadotte was your boss, but he was extremely inappropriate when it came to dealing with you. A shameless flirt and too handsome for his own good, you let a lot of things slide. Though you had no qualms about decking him if his hand trailed down to far or if his flirting ever went too far. Sometimes you would give it right back, flustering him. Those were your favorite moments, leaving him absolutely stunned and a blushing mess.
Integra had sent the Wild Geese out into the town on Halloween night. She just knew the creatures of darkness would use this night to prey upon the unsuspecting masses. Alucard was of course one of the creatures, but he was on standby in case Pip and his team couldn’t handle it. Pip laid out a map grouping his men off into different sections, but he left you to patrol by his side. You rolled your eyes but agreed. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the French man had something else in mind while everyone else worked. Maybe a vampire would bite him, he wouldn’t turn anyway. But you knew you couldn’t get that lucky.
Out in the streets, amongst the crowd of Halloween celebrators you were squished against Pip. His arm wrapped around your shoulders a cocky grin on his face.
“You know we’re supposed to be patrolling not canoodling on the sidewalk,” you growled trying to get rid of his hand only for him to squeeze tighter.
“We can do both,” he retorted, gripping you tightly.
You rolled your eyes before elbowing him in the gut. With an ‘oof’ Pip released you and you fast walked away. Of course he was able to recover quickly and stayed on your tail. Though he was slowed down by a group of women at one point. You continued to walk on while he was trapped with the flirting ladies. It didn’t take him long to make his escape and come back to your side, with a sucker between his lips instead of his normal cigarette.
“Conned yourself some candy did you?”
“I’ll have you know this was given freely chere,” he grinned popping the treat from his mouth and holding it out towards you. “Wanna lick?”
“No thanks,” you fluttered your eyelashes. “I’d rather lick the sidewalk.”
Pip’s only answer was the wiggle of his brows and licking the treat slowly. You glared stomping off, hoping to find a vampire so you could blow off some steam and curb your rage.
It didn’t take long to find a group of bloodsuckers, enjoying a Halloween treat. Pip tried to hold you back, but you were too hyped to get some hunting done, you rushed in. The French man sighed and bounded into the fray right beside you. Despite his annoying qualities you both worked well together. The fight becoming like a deadly dance where Pip seemed to lead you. It didn’t take long for the vampires to be turned into dust and you both were coated in blood. Pip grabbed your hand, giving you a twirl before he dipped you down to finish the dance.
“Only you would want to make Vampire slaying romantic on Halloween,” you scoffed.
Pip grinned, blood streaking down his face, “Of course chere. You are the most beautiful when you spill blood.”
He helped you raise up before leaving a warm kiss on the back of your hand. There was still a lot of night left and Pip didn’t want to waste too much time dealing with vampires, he was more worried about wooing you and possibly finally getting a treat from you. His eyes watched you closely as you picked through the aftermath to see if anything worthwhile was around to find. He got under your skin, but he wanted you to know how much he honestly cared for you. He removed a cigarette from his pocket, using it to hide his grin. Puffing smoke into the air, he waved to gain your attention.
“Shall we continue,” he asked and you nodded in reply. Before you got too far ahead of him, Pip grabbed your hand and laced his fingers with yours. You glared at him but you didn’t pull away. Despite his annoying behavior you couldn’t hate the guy and you were glad that he was your leader, you couldn’t ask for a better one. Though he did deserve to be throat punched at times, you would refrain though as you did love Pip in your own way. You would just ease your frustration through your job instead of him. Pip tightened his grasp and lead you on through the night ready to face the dangers that lurked on that Halloween night.
#Pip Bernadotte X Reader#Pip Bernadotte / Reader#Pip Bernadotte#Hellsing Ultimate#Pip Bernadotte Imagine#Hellsing Ultimate Imagine#Imagine#Not My Gif#My Writing
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