#max phillips fanfiction
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𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐓
pairing: max phillips x f!reader
genre: smut, office romance
word count: 5k
summary: a week after walking in on your boyfriend fucking someone else, Max gives you the day off. You leave, unaware that you dropped your watch. Much to your surprise, he brings it to you. Your relationship with him escalates in the following days.
warnings: office sex, rough sex, praise kink, dirty talk, use of 'sir' & 'good girl', piv, dom/sub dynamics, very mild degradation (he calls you his cocksleeve like once), dumbification if you squint, soft!max at times
a/n: I drafted this months ago and only now I finally finished the fic, I have no idea why I waited this long especially since I'd written most of it back then but other wips got in the way--sorry Max lmaodvdf this is my first time writing for you and I hope I did you justice 🖤 I rewatched his scenes and I'm still so horny for this man it's making me look stupid
Max’s office is the nicest one of everyone who works in this building, albeit a bit darker. There’s a succulent on his desk that reminds you of a translucent star and you can’t seem to draw your eyes away from it. His voice is smooth and melodic but you aren’t really listening. Your hand moves over to your watch, feeling the coolness of metal underneath your fingertips. It’s nice.
It’s safe to say that you’re not really paying attention to anything.
Your eyes are wet still, a sting every time you dare to blink. It’s been a week since you found your boyfriend screwing someone else on the couch in the living room. The image still lingers in your head, taunting you.
While you stared, unblinking as they scrambled for their clothes, all you could think of how happy you were that they didn’t use the bedroom.
Now that the relationship is over it’s easier to see the red flags. The way he belittled you, your passions, the things that you enjoyed. Your body, your cooking, anything you did was never enough for him. It was an open invitation to mock you for who you were. And that was the least of it, he never touched you, and you had to beg him for sex— not in the fun kind if you might add. You feel so fucking stupid for trying to make him happy.
“You’re not listening are you?”
You flinch upon hearing the question, eyes finally snapping away from the succulent and turning to Max. You didn’t mean to be so obvious about it. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. . . Great, another person you couldn’t make happy no matter what you did.
“You’ve been like this all week. Is there something going on? You can take leave if you need to, you’re not really much use like this anyway”
His words sting but you can’t really blame him for it. Though you did find it funny that as an immortal he was so pressed for time.
“Sorry,” you say and he looks at you, really looks at you. Brown eyes move from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his own. “I’ll do better just some... personal stuff going on,”
“Family?”
“Shitty breakup.”
“Oh.”
Max appreciates bluntness. You figured that one out on your first day here. He isn’t a fan of keeping anything that might affect your work bottled up. He doesn't like the guessing game either. If there’s something wrong he wants to know and if he can he’ll fix it. Not that he can really fix a broken heart.
He suddenly stands up, making his way around the desk. He lends against the edge, hands on his lap. Instictecly you curl your fingers around the armrests. Max is pretty docile for the most part, unless he’s hungry. But the way he’s looking down at you, brows relaxed and a faint smile tugging at his lips, it makes your heart drop. He’s a walking corpse but his eyes are more alive compared to most people you’ve met.
“I’m sure you’ll be happier without commitment wearing you down,” he says, voice dropping, barely above a whisper. You shudder and fail to see the way his fingers twitch. “Don’t think about it, relax, sweetheart.”
And you do. It’s like warm water dancing over your skin. Your shoulders slump, your body limply sinking into the chair. A lazy smile spreads across your lips and he smiles back, teeth winking at you between his plush lips. “That’s it. You’re not feeling anything now, are you?”
You giggle, shaking your head. Even your heartbeat slows, the tips of your fingers tingling with pleasure—
You blink, pinching your brows, you slowly roll your shoulders and hear your bones crack. Max is gazing at you with utmost curiosity, thumbs drumming silently.
Then it hits you. The fucker is using his powers. Fucking vampires.
“Stop it,” you hiss, your body relaxed but mind racing. He rolls his eyes and waves his hand as a sign of dismissal. The tension that had disappeared from your muscles return at full force, and you jolt. “You shouldn’t do that,”
“I was trying to help,” he answers without a care in his tone. He buttons his vest and gestures with his head to the door. “Take the rest of the day off. Sort yourself. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”
“But—”
“Just go. It’s fine,” when you fail to look convinced, he pouts and draws a cross over his chest. Ironic. “I swear. Now go, take the day off, collect your thoughts or whatever you need to do,”
You leave without pointing out the irony of him making a cross over his non-beating heart. You’ve worked long enough to know that if the boss wants you to take the time off, you take the time off.
Max drags his palm over his face, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he hops off the desk and turns to look at the empty seat you left behind. He’s not sure if he should be condoning this kind of behavior. He doesn’t want people barging in here asking to leave with the most minuscule of problems. But it isn’t typical of you to be distracted so he decided that you earned it.
He’s curious about what kind of man would be stupid enough to leave you, let alone make you look that sad. Not that it’s any of his business.
Max is amidst turning on his heel when he sees it. A small sparkle on the carpeted floor. Cocking an eyebrow, he leans over with his hands in his pockets. A watch?
That’s right you had a watch when you came in, you were playing with it while he was going over the weekly sales. You must’ve dropped it. Looking almost bored, he scoops it off the floor and stares at it. He sees your initials written on the back, a pretty, delicate little accessory.
Surely you would miss it. He knows your address due to dragging your drunk self back home after an office party— so maybe he should bring it to you. Max sighs and flips the watch over. He has time to make a quick stop.
He leaves the office with the watch snug in his pocket. It really isn’t his style to be nice, or remorseful, but he does feel a tad guilty using his powers on you. He genuinely did think he was doing some good. It did look like you were feeling better until you broke out of the trance.
Max steps into the elevator. The tedious music loud and scratching his ears as always.
Taking a day off isn’t going as smoothly as you had hoped.
Initially, you thought you would binge your favorite shows and eat a bucket of ice cream. Instead, you ended up staring blankly at the ceiling, arm dangling out from the side of the bed. It’s a shitty feeling. Your heart feels heavy and uncomfortable. Maybe Max taking away the pain wasn’t so bad after all?
There’s a loud knock on the door and you jump. Every bone in your body aches, your heart beating fast as you head to the living room. You’re praying to every god you know that it’s not your ex. You don’t want to deal with him. Especially not today.
You take a deep, calming, breath. It’s okay. He wouldn’t just show up now, would he? Stupidly enough you don’t look through the peephole before yanking the door open, the person that lurks on the other side takes you by surprise completely.
It’s Max.
What the hell?
“Hiii,” he says with a smug grin. He lifts something to your line of vision and it takes you a moment to recognize your watch. “Found this, thought you might miss it.”
Blinking, you open your palms and he drops it. It feels like a dream. “Uh…thanks,”
“You’re welcome,” he peers over your shoulder, looking into the dimly lit apartment. “So how’s your day off going?”
“Not as fun as I hoped,” you give him a bittersweet smile. His eyes meet yours, and you see your reflection in them, so bright. “Do you want to come inside?”
A shudder climbs your spine when something dark crosses his face, eyes becoming sharper. Your stomach churns and you swallow, fingers tightening around the watch.
“Would love to” he chirps, practically jumping over the threshold. “Thank you for the invite, much obliged.”
“You really can’t come in without being invited?” you ask, closing the door with a push of your heel.
“Nope,” he answers, emphasizing on the p. “Why do you think I left you at the door after the party? You were too drunk to say ‘come in’ I basically had to push you through the door just so you could crawl the rest of the way to your bedroom,”
“I honestly thought you were just being an asshole,”
He scoffs, “I am an asshole. Just not to the people I like,”
He drops down to the couch, which in return makes your stomach sink. You really need to burn it, you don’t think you can have it in your apartment anymore. You sit across from him, placing the watch neatly on top of the coffee table. “I wasn’t aware you liked me,”
“Let’s say tolerate. I like your work ethic.”
“Thank you?” you answer, unsure.
“You’re very much welcome.”
You’re not sure why you invited him inside. He doesn’t drink coffee unless it’s morning, and he doesn’t really like to eat as far as you could tell. The silence is deafening and uncomfortable. You part your lips to ask if he would like tea or anything else but he beats you to it, gaze fixated on you.
“So, how did it happen?”
Your throat goes dry, “What?”
“The break-up,” he shrugs and leans back into the couch, you internally cringe. “Do you want me to break his neck or something?”
“What—No!” you’re horrified but can’t ignore the way warmth blossoms in your chest. You’re highly aware that he’s joking, however, it’s still a nice thought that someone actually cares enough to get pissed about it. “Where did that even come from?”
“I don’t know, I’m not sure I like seeing you so sad. It’s unnerving.”
“Sorry that my misfortune is bothering you,” you answer, crossing your arms. “He cheated on me, and I’m only now realizing how shitty he was.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah,”
“So I do need to break his neck then?”
You laugh.
You aren’t expecting it, but here you are rubbing tears from your eyes as you laugh with your whole body. There’s just something about the way he said it; as if it was the most normal thing to do. He seems to enjoy the way you laugh. Smiling wide and bright, watching you with fond eyes.
After minutes, your laughter starts to die down, softening into breathless giggles. You’re surprised to find that Max is still smiling at you, no smugness, no cockiness, just an earnest smile.
“Thank I really needed that,” you say, heat building at the base of your spine. “Sorry if I worried you. It’s been a bit rough lately.”
“We can’t all be perfect every second,” he grins, he flattens his palms over his thighs, moving them up and down. Your breath hitches, eyes involuntarily dropping to his crotch. You’re flustered all of a sudden. He tilts his head, tongue poking out of his cheek as he gives you an open-mouthed smirk. “See something you like, sweetheart?”
Your eyes snap to his face, cheeks burning, “Nope. Not—Not at all,”
He leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs. There’s a table in between but you feel as if he’s a breath away. You swallow, goosebumps rousing over your skin.
“You know I can smell it right?” he purrs. “I can smell the arousal gathering between your legs. I can hear the way your heart is beating… That asshole had no idea how to fuck you properly did he?”
Your pussy bottoms out at his words. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction that he’s right, you don’t want him to know how badly you want him inside. For him to whisper praises into your ear as you squirm around his cock. You lick your lips. He’s not using his powers, you can tell. Yet you still want to blame it on the fact that he’s doing something to make you feel so hot and bothered. But it’s not him, just you.
You’re not sure when you started to have the hots for your boss, but clearly, there was something there. Lurking in the darkness of your mind.
“Look at you,” he coos, eyes raking over your body. “So sweet and afraid. Let me be the first one to say that he didn’t deserve you. Not in the slightest,”
“Max…” you warn.
“Yeah…?” he mimics your tone, smile somehow wider. “Would you want to get coffee before work tomorrow morning?”
The question catches you by surprise. You observe him for a brief moment, he seems dead serious—at least the amount of serious Max Phillips can be.
You nod.
Your first early morning coffee date with Max goes exactly how you expect it to go. You pay for both coffees as a thank you. He found it unnecessary but grumbled a thanks anyway. He talks a lot about work; about sales, about his time in Romania. But mostly work. You do appreciate the distraction though so you don’t complain. You pitch in, telling him ways the company could improve but also adding that you want to quit one day and do something better with your life.
The following mornings follow the same pattern. Mostly conversations about work, and sipping coffee. That is until Tuesday rolls around. It’s an especially cold morning and you find yourself huddling closer to him as the two of you sat on the bench. He doesn’t really seem bothered by the cold, which makes sense since he’s cold-blooded.
Max’s eyes drop to your trembling fingers that were curled helplessly around the coffee cup. You notice his frown, his gaze lifts back up to meet your eyes. “Do you want to go inside?”
“No, I’m good. Besides it’s too early to start working.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “We do get here early don’t we.”
“I mean…we don’t have to. But I have been enjoying our mornings.”
“So have I,” he chews on his bottom lip, instinctively moving closer to you when he feels a shudder crawling up your spine. “It sucks that I can’t really warm you up—being undead and all— This would be the perfect moment to hold your hands.”
Funnily enough, he does manage to warm you up. You look down at your hands, the cup only half full, you place it to the side. Max truly had been a balm to your broken heart these past couple of days. He never got overly flirtatious again as he did in your apartment, some part of you is disappointed that he didn’t.
“You can—” you lick your lips, the wetness furthering the chill. “You can still do that. If you want to.”
“Yeah?” he moves his jaw, eyes dropping to your lips. “You’ll be colder.”
“I think it might be worth the risk.”
Max brings your hands to his lips, brushing your knuckles and kissing each finger individually. You shudder. He wasn’t wrong, he was awfully cold. But you weren’t wrong either, it’s worth it. Hundred percent. His mouth moves over the back of your hand in the shape of waves, the pit in your stomach rolling, and butterflies fluttering in your chest. His eyes meet yours and you’re mesmerized by him. His eyebrows raise, lips kissing the curve of your wrist, laying a path to the inside, he drags his teeth over the skin right above the vein.
A sudden fear spikes from your feet to your neck. He wouldn’t, would he?
“Are you afraid of me?” the question is whispered with a breath into your skin. Everywhere except the tip of your nose is warm. He looks at you with heavy eyelids, lashes kissing his cheeks every time he blinks.
You don’t have an answer, but you know what he needs to hear.
“I’m not.”
Before you can blink his lips mold into yours. He traces the seam of your mouth with his tongue eagerly, and you part your lips, allowing him to taste and dominate. With both hands he holds your wrists firmly, pulling you close until you’re basically flush against him. Max inhales as he presses deeper, licking the inside of your mouth and swallowing your whines.
He breaks away from you with a smile, you see the flash of fangs.
You gently knock on the already open door. Max is positively exhausted. His eyes snap from his computer to you, he sighs and signals you to enter with two fingers. You close the door when you enter.
“Are we still good for dinner?” you ask, feeling slightly foolish now that you were standing in the middle of his office.
“Sorry baby, not today. These assholes managed to mix everything up, need to fix all that so I’m going to be here late,”
You try very hard not to look disappointed. You already know you failed when you feel your bottom lip starting to quiver. You ball your hands into weak fists, pushing your nails into your skin. He notices, a moment of worry crosses his face.
Tonight wasn’t really a date, or anything important. It was just dinner.
Then why are you so upset?
You neither move away nor lean in as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, and you exhale at the way you can feel his chest move underneath you.
“Nothing, just—Don’t worry about it. I’m just being clingy. I know you’re busy,”
“Clingy? Oh, sweetheart,” he rolls his chair back and slaps his thigh. “Come, sit on my lap.”
“Uh…” your eyes flit between his spread legs and his face. “Excuse me?”
“Just get your gorgeous self over here.”
Swallowing, your legs move on their own. Your heart does somersaults in your chest. His smile never falters as you slowly lower yourself down, feeling his frame under you. Your insides clench. Your arms shake. You feel his breath on your neck when he guides your arms around his neck. He presses his lips where your neck and chest meet, heat coils in your stomach.
“Max…”
“You could never be too clingy,” he murmurs. “And even if you were I would love it. I’m actually really happy you came over, I was starting to think this thing between us was going nowhere.”
“You want it…to go somewhere?”
“Of course, I fucking do,” he snaps, looking up, glaring at you. “Do you think I come here that early just to drink coffee—I like spending time with you.”
You feel yourself start to tremble as his hands move up your thighs and cup your ass. He squeezes gently and you gasp, your skin prickling under his touch. His lips move away from your neck, pressing soft kisses up your jaw until he reaches your ear.
"I want to take this further," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I want to fuck you, sweetheart. Bend you over this table and make you scream my name because I’m sure haven’t been screaming anything for a while."
His hands move around your body, tracing the line of your spine and the curves of your hips. His touch is gentle and yet rough at the same time, your heart beats faster with each passing second. You melt into him, wanting more, wanting him.
“I want to feel your wet cunt around my cock,” he groans, dragging his teeth down the column of your neck. His voice drops an octave. “Let me fuck you sweet thing.”
You pause for a moment, and then you nod, your heart pounding in your chest.
"Yes," you whisper. "Yes, I want this too."
Max smiles, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips, and he pulls you in for a long, deep kiss. He nips at your bottom lip before pulling it and slipping his tongue into your mouth. Pulling you closer—inhaling you—he cups your head from both sides, and groans into your mouth. You feel the growing wetness between your legs, your body having a mind of its own, you grind down on him, shuddering as you feel the hard length under his pants.
“Needy,” he tuts, gripping you by the neck. You hiss when he yanks you back, the rest of your body falling still. “You’ll take what I give you. Is that clear?”
“Yes—” you bite the inside of your cheek. “Yes, sir.”
Your cheeks burn as his eyes widen momentarily. Then he closes them, taking a steady breath, he cocks his head to the side. A soft hum echoes in his throat.
“I like that,” he purrs, opening his eyes. “Say that again.”
“Please, sir.” you choke out.
Max's grip tightens as he bends you over the office table. You gasp, your skin hot as he shoves your pants down to your knees. While you kick them off, you hear a zipper, feel the weight of his cock on the top of your ass. Your face is directly staring at the door— If someone were to waltz in, the first sight to greet them would see you taking your boss’s cock. However, you can hardly care when his warm breath fans your neck, his breathing uneven and rushed.
He slips his hands down and cups your ass, kneading and squeezing as he shoves you further against the cold desk.
"You look so sexy like this," he growls, his cock pushing against your ass as he presses himself against you. His hands move up your body, and he starts tugging at the buttons of your shirt, loosening them one by one. His lips brush against your ear and you shiver in anticipation as his hot breath tickles your skin.
"Say. It."
It’s a threat and some wicked part of you is tempted to exhaust his patience. His hands move down your body, and his fingers start to tease your nipples as he traces circles around them. Then, when you don’t answer, he pinches them harshly.
Your body jerks at the sharp pain, an acute moan rips from your throat.
“Fuck me, sir. Please.”
“You sound so good like this, begging for my cock,” he purrs. “I’m going to go easy on you today sweetheart, but don’t expect me to always be so nice.”
He slides his hands lower, and his fingers slip between your legs, teasing and caressing your wetness. Your eyes roll back as his fingers start to penetrate you, and you grind downs in search of more. Wanting him deeper, wanting more of him.
“So fucking wet,” he coos, he pulls out his fingers, smearing wet streaks across your hips. He nudges his cock between your folds and rocks his hips, the catches against your clit and a loud moan rips from your throat. “That’s my girl, and you thought I didn’t want this. What kind of idiot wouldn’t want this pretty cunt? Hmm?”
“Max, please. . .”
You hear the growl that rattles his chest. Closing his eyes, he cocks his head to the side, tongue tracing the edges of his fangs. “I really love hearing you beg,” he groans. “And the blood rush in your veins.”
Your breath catches in your throat—and in one smooth thrust, he slips inside of you. You clutch the edges of the desk, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Suddenly the rest of the world blurs and it’s just you and him. He stretches you perfectly, his length deep enough to hit all the right spots. His hands smooth a path up your spine. You practically purr at the feeling. You whimper, and when you do, his lips are on your neck in an instant. His body a cool, yet comfortable, blanket on top of you.
“Good girl. Look at you, being so obedient,” he licks the salt off your skin. “You feel so good, baby. The perfect cocksleeve for the boss.”
“Oh god—” you choke out. You have no idea how to respond to that, but your body sure does. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him tight. His breath hitches. You feel him straighten behind you, his hands press you down from the waist and you can’t help the small squeal that parts your lips.
He’s restraining himself. You can tell by the way his hips twitches, eager to bury more of himself into you. His nails bite into your skin and instinctively you raise your hips. “Maaax,” you moan. “Fuck me, please. I can take it.”
“You can, can’t you?” he mutters, sounding almost impressed. “My perfect girl. You’ll take everything I’ll give you?”
You breathe out, “Yes—”
And he gives you everything.
Every thrust knocks the air from your lungs. Somewhere on the desk your arm hits a stack of papers and they fly everywhere, making a mess on the floor. Max doesn’t stop. He jackhammers into you, splitting you into two. It never felt this intense before. Never. You struggle to breathe and with every snap of his hips, you feel slick dripping down your thighs. Max groans as he wraps his fingers around your neck, pulling you up. Your breasts sway with every stroke, your nipples aching from how hard they are. His one hand remains on your throat as the other moves to your chest, kneading the soft mound in his palm.
“Wouldn’t be fun if someone walked in right now?” he teases, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “Seeing you getting absolutely railed—kinda wish I had a mirror so I could see how cock drunk you look, sweetheart.”
Fuck, is all you can think and you desperately want to voice it out, tell him how good it feels. His voice, his breath, his teeth, his cock— But all you can do is whimper helplessly, hoping that the sound is enough to convey how much you’re enjoying this.
“So stupid for me, I love it. You want me to make you come?”
Another whimper. You nod helplessly, forcing yourself back to meet the movement of his hips. He hums as his hand slides between your legs, he draws wet circles around your clit, and your entire body clenches. You can barely hear him from the blood rush in your ears but you think he mumbles ‘oh shit’. Max continues to play with the sensitive bundle of nerves, with fast strokes he mumbles profanities against your skin.
You come with his name on your lips. Your body convulses, muscles clenching and unclenching over and over as you gush all around his cock. It feels never-ending. He grinds his hips, burying himself deeper, throbbing inside. You hiss as your second orgasm washes over you, fluttering and twitching, your body goes limp. You're fairly certain if Max wasn’t holding you up, you’d collapse.
Much to your surprise, Max slowly lays you on top of the desk and the office ceiling comes into view. He’s still pulsing between your legs. He smiles down at you, slides his fingers between your lips—the same fingers he made you come with—and leans in to shove his tongue alongside them. You part your lips wide, the taste of yourself and him making your head spin. You moan around his tongue and fingers. He pulls back with a smile.
“Where do you want me, sweetheart?” he asks, cupping your face with the same hand.
“You can come inside,” you answer in a daze, then quickly add. “You can’t get me pregnant right?”
He shakes his head and you smile, “Go ahead then.”
It doesn’t take him long. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and takes deep inhales of your scent as he spills inside of you. You thread your fingers through his soft locks and gently tug on them. He groans.
“That’s nice,” he hums, pressing his lips over your clavicle. “I wanna spend an eternity between your legs.”
“Should I be scared that you actually can do that?” you say with a soft chuckle, he looks down at you, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. He wiggles his brows.
“Maybe.”
Max slowly pulls out, and when he stands, he watches the mess pour between your legs. His pupils eat away the color of his eyes and you shudder at how hungry he looks.
Suddenly shy, you avert your gaze as you try to collect yourself, “Sorry about messing up your schedule. I’ll see you later.”
“And where do you think you’re going?”
He grabs your wrists and pulls you into an embrace. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until you feel yourself melting into him.
“Fuck work,” he says, his hand resting over the small of your back. “I’ll get it done later. Let’s go home so I can at least spend tonight between your legs.”
You grin into his chest, happy that he can’t see how ecstatic you look. He probably knows how excited you are anyway.
“Sounds like a plan.”
#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips x f!reader#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips x fem!reader#bloodsucking bastards#bloodsucking bastards fic#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters
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An appreciation for the “small” fic writers
Hello! I wanted to create this rec for smaller fic writers (about 1,000 followers or less) because I know how it feels to be discouraged by the amount of notes you get and the amount of followers you have. So I made a post asking for your favorite small creators (including self recs you guys sent in and some of my favorites, too!) and here is that list! The banner is by the lovely theywhowriteandknowthings who I would mention here but they’re actually featured on the list below 👀🩷
Without further ado I present to you,
Some “smaller” Pedro Pascal writers listed in alphabetical order order along with what Pedro boys they write for! 🩷 (RPF about Pedro is not included)
@amanitacowboy - Javi P
@atticrissfinch - Joel & Javi P
@avastrasposts - Frankie
@beefrobeefcal - Frankie, Joel, Dave & Javi P
@bluestar22x - Din, Javi P, Pero, Javi G, Frankie, Tim, Marcus M, Marcus P, Joel & Whiskey
@bonezone44 - Joel & Ezra
@chaoticgeminate - Javi P, Javi G, Dieter, Pero, Frankie, Maxwell, Whiskey, Din, Marcus P, Marcus M, Zach & Mr. Ben
@cool-iguana - Din, Joel & Javi P
@coulsons-fullmetal-cellist - Dieter
@dark-scape - Joel
@decembermidnight - Din
@diversemediums - Javi P & Din
@frenchiereading - Frankie & Joel
@gmno-writes - Javi P, Din, Frankie, Joel, Dieter & Marcus P
@iamskyereads - Ezra
@idolatrybarbie - Frankie
@inthe-dark-tonight - Joel
@intheorangebedroom - Frankie
@ishabull - Marcus P & Din
@jenispunk - Joel
@julesonrecord - Joel, Whiskey, Ezra, Frankie & Dieter
@katareyoudrilling - Joel, Dave, Marcus P, Frankie, Javi P & Dieter
@kedsandtubesocks - Din, Javi P, Whiskey, Dieter & Marcus P
@kiwisbell - Javi P, Joel, Frankie, Din, Dave & Javi G
@ladamedusoif - Joel, Javi P, Mr. Ben, Din, The Thief & Ortega
@lahooozaherr - Din & Whiskey
@lincolndjarin - Din & Joel
@lovers-liability - Joel
@mandoisapunk - Din, Joel & Javi P
@milla-frenchy - Joel & Javi P
@missredherring - Tim, Pedro Across the Street, Oberyn, Maxwell, Marcus M, Marcus P, Joel, Frankie, Ezra, Din, Dieter & Whiskey
@mondaychildsworld - Din & Joel
@morallyinept - various Pedro boys, like pretty much all of them!
@ohforficsake - Frankie
@pamasaur - Joel
@pascalsbby - Joel, Whiskey, & Javi P
@penvisions - Joel, Frankie, Din & Javi P
@pimosworld - Frankie & Joel
@princessanglophile - Oberyn
@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin - Joel, Javi P & Frankie
@rhoorl - Dieter & Frankie
@romanarose - Joel & Frankie
@sin-djarin - Joel
@sirowsky - Joel, Javi P, Javi G, Frankie, Din, Marcus M, Marcus P, Pero & Dave
@secretelephanttattoo Joel, Marcus P, & Javi P
@sofasoap - Din
@sp00kymulderr - Javi P, Ezra, Marcus P, Joel, Dieter & Din
@stardustandskycrystals - Joel, Whiskey, Marcus M, Javi G, Dieter, Ezra & Javi P
@thelightsandtheroses - Dieter, Joel, Frankie & Javi P
@theywhowriteandknowthings - Din, Joel, Frankie, Javi P, Javi G, Dave, Dieter & Max
Part two!
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#din djarin fanfiction#javier peña fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction#ezra prospect fanfiction#javi gutierrez fanfiction#marcus pike fanfiction#marcus moreno fanfiction#oberyn martell fanfiction#max phillips fanfiction#dieter bravo fanfiction#tim rockford fanfiction#agent whiskey fanfiction
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Can't Fight Cupid {Max Phillips x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 12k
Warnings: Human Max, sexism in the the workplace, insults, bickering, drinking, sexual harassment, mentions of drugging, drunk sex, impaired decision making but everyone consents, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, cream-pie, angst, oral sex (male and female receiving), confessions
Comments: Your morning show co-host, Max Phillips drives you mad. Constantly annoying you and bickering with you. At the Cupid's Ball, the weekend before Valentine's Day, you get a little drunk and do something incredibly stupid. Sleep with him.
A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || Max Phillips MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
BEEP BEEP BEEP
You groan, rolling over to slam your hand down on top of your alarm clock.
It reads 3 am.
“Fuck.” You huff, feeling exhausted after staying up late last night to talk to your agent, and you regret it now. There’s no choice to snooze, you need to get up.
Moaning as you force yourself out of your comfy bed, you stumble into the bathroom, turning on the light, and it’s bright enough to make you wince. “God.” You whine, palming your face. Every day, you’re closer to being replaced by some teeny bopper with perky tits and an annoyingly high-pitched voice. You pee and brush your teeth before you start your morning routine. Treadmill. Weights. Protein shake. Shower. Get dressed.
The car pulls up outside your apartment building on time, and you get in to meet your producer, and she starts to ramble about the segments for the show.
You listen to her half-heartedly but stare out of the window. The street lights reflect as they twinkle overnight without anyone but you and a tired few to admire them.
When you arrive at the studio, you’re ushered inside and to your dressing room to get started on the exhausting daily routine of getting ready for TV.
Your makeup artist is putting on your lipstick when there’s a knock on the door.
“Goooood morning Vietnammmmm!” He shouts with enough energy to make you want to punch his stupid face.
“Max.” You huff, turning your head to see him swagger into your dressing room with his designer bespoke suit.
“You ready for the Coleman interview? You sure you’re up to it?” He tuts, leaning over you as he checks out his reflection in the mirror.
“I think if one of us is prepared and able to interview a woman who survived sexual assault at the hands of a powerful man, it’s me. If you did it, she’d be traumatized all over again.” You scoff, crossing your arms.
Max snorts, “whatever, princess. Just don’t make us look bad.” He says, and you roll your eyes, “It’s not me who makes us look bad. You’re the one who flirts with anything that has a pulse.”
Your co-host leans in, a smirk on his face as he meets your eyes in the mirror, “I think you’re just jealous that I never flirt with you…off air.” He adds, his eyes narrow slightly, and you push him away from you.
“In your fucking dreams, Phillips.” He chuckles, and you want to slap him, but he has already been in the makeup chair and Shelly would kill you if your handprint ruined her work.
Max chuckles again, slowly backing out of your dressing room, but he turns to look at you and says, “see you on the stage, wifey.” He teases and you growl under your breath.
You and Max are the darlings of morning news. The Daily News Show. You’re the “husband and wife” of daytime TV. You aren’t together. No, fuck no. You are both painfully single, unable to hold down a relationship when the show is your entire life. You live and breathe the news. Max has his liaisons, as detailed in every gossip mag from New York to L.A, but you’re the good girl. You could never get away with what he manages to do. You are held to a higher standard and it’s bullshit. You were called a “slut” when you went out with three men in six months. Max has ten flings - barely a weekend each - and he’s revered as “daytime’s most eligible bachelor.”
You exhale shakily, trying to control your hatred towards Max before you go on air and put on your persona as the loving “TV wife.” You close your eyes and focus until Jimmy, the AD, comes in to tell you that it’s time to get on set. You nod, standing up to make your way through the halls to the set and Max is already sitting at the desk when you arrive. Shelly comes over to dust your face with setting powder and the producers are going over the segments one last time.
“Right, everyone. Thirty seconds to live.” The director announces, headset on, and you swallow harshly, getting yourself in the zone.
“Don’t fuck up.” Max murmurs and you turn your head to glare at him.
“You’re the only fuck up here, Phillips.” You hiss back and he chuckles, “at least I’m getting fucked. How long has it been again…? Last one was…that dude from Fallon?” He reminds you of your ex who was a writer over on The Jimmy Fallon Show.
“Your last one still asleep in your bed?” You spit back, “you even get her name?” You ask and Max frowns.
“Jessica? No, Jamie. No…shit.” He shakes his head and you roll your eyes.
“As we are live in ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…” The director lowers his fingers to be silent and then you straighten up and plaster a smile on your face.
“Good morning and welcome to The Daily News Show.” You introduce yourself with a grin.
“And I’m Max Phillips. It’s three days until Valentine's Day. Are you ready for the day?” Max asks you as per the teleprompter and you chuckle, “is anyone ready? Our friends over at Saks have some ideas for last-minute gifts later on in the show. Max, did you already get my present?” You question him teasingly like the TV wife you are.
“Of course.” He responds like it’s obvious, “I couldn’t not get my gorgeous co-host something special.” He winks and you internally scoff at his slimy smile.
“I guess I’ll have to wait and see what you got me.” You giggle and turn back to look at the camera, “let’s take a look at your morning forecast.”
You go off air while the weatherman takes over and Max leans in, “did you get me a present?” He asks and you snort, “you’re lucky I put up with you.”
Max chuckles, “well, at least we got the Cupid’s Ball tonight.” You groan softly under your breath, having forgotten that was tonight.
You have to go. You need to go. But you desperately want to curl under your duvet with a glass of wine and forget that you will be spending Valentine’s Day alone.
****
You tug on the hem of your skirt as you walk through the hall to the bustling private area of a skyscraper restaurant that overlooks the city where the party is being held. You feel ridiculous in the short red dress your stylist had picked for you, styled with a pair of heels that make you question if they belong in a torture room in the rings of hell. They are insanely uncomfortable and you’re reminded again of why you wish you were back at home curled up on your sofa with a glass of wine watching rom-com movies and shoving chocolate in your mouth. You inhale deeply before you make your way into the room.
Leaning against the bar, Max is already a few drinks in, bored out of his mind and questioning why he has to attend these things. No one wants to talk to him, they want to talk to his morning show personality. The Cupid’s Ball is an annoying reminder that despite his popularity, no one was special in his life. At least no one that he really wanted. Taking a sip of his drink, he nearly chokes when he sees you walk into the room. The blood red dress calls to him and he smirks as he puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly across the floor, catcalling you obnoxiously.
You roll your eyes and make a beeline to the bar where Max is, greeting people who are half drunk along the way. “You have one too many or you trying to make me doubt myself in this dress?” You question Max, trying to figure out his motive. You feel itchy in the dress now as his dark eyes trail along your form.
Max chuckles and waggles his brows suggestively. “You did get me a present.” He jokes. “Now put it on the floor where it belongs.” He knows that the network wouldn’t be happy with a sexual harassment lawsuit, but you wouldn’t file one of those. You enjoy cutting him down with scathing retorts too much. “Drink first, fuck later? Or fuck now, drink later?” He asks, offering you his own glass.
You wrinkle your nose, shaking your head, “in your fucking dreams, Phillips.” You huff and he chuckles, “if only you knew…”
You shake your head and push his glass away, “knowing you, you probably roofied it.” You call the bartender over and order a Cosmo, wanting to enjoy the evening even if your co-star insists on annoying you to death. “What are you doing hanging by the bar? No pretty interns to harass?”
“Why harass interns when I can harass you?” He gives you a hurt pout and takes his drink back and takes a sip of it to prove that he hasn’t done anything to it. “Besides, if I didn’t bother you, you would think that I was body snatched.” He snorts and looks out over the throng of people filing in.
You snort, “that’s true. I would think you’d been abducted by aliens if you didn’t make my life hell every day.” You thank the bartender for your drink. “To being painfully single because we made our careers our lives.” You toast as you hold your drink towards him.
Max lifts his glass in salute and snorts. “You’ve still got time, sweet cheeks.” He tells you. “You can put those birthing hips to use.” He smirks when you glare at him and shrugs. “What? You don’t want to have rugrats attached to the tit?” His eyes drop to your chest. “Pity.”
Your eyebrows raise, “and you are thinking about reproducing? Good God. The world couldn’t cope with a miniature Max Phillips.” You chuckle and shake your head, “besides…you’re lucky. You could knock up every woman from New York to L.A and you would keep your job. Me? I’d be out the door as soon as I peed on a test.” You take a sip of your drink and shift from one foot to another, unused to this kind of talk directed at you from Max. Usually he’s boasting about his conquests and how much better he looks on camera.
“In the year of our lord, 2024?” Mad huffs and shakes his head. “No. The network would exploit it. Have ‘baby and me’ segments.” In reality, the only way the network would do that is if their hand was forced, but Max isn’t willing to give up his co-host. Despite your attitude towards him off camera, the public loved you two together. “All you’d have to do is announce it on air and tell viewers the special segments to come. A taped sonogram. Let our morning show viewers fall in love with the little brat.”
“The only way they’d do that is if it was our baby and to do that, we’d have to have sex and I know that you prefer them pliable and dumb.” You glance around the room, spotting the producers laughing together and the execs making a short experience before they helicopter out to their mansions.
Max scoffs. “That would never happen.” He agrees, although there’s a frown on his face as he turns back to the bar. “Better that we focus on our careers, right? That will keep us warm when we’re in our nursing homes.” He chuckles. “When we turn forty-five.”
“You’re closer to that than me, old man.” You taunt him, “forty this year. You gonna be able to handle getting older?” You nudge him, knowing that he prides himself on his looks and Devil May care attitude.
He shoots you a dirty look before glancing at the mirror behind the bar. “Don’t look a day over thirty-four.” He huffs before looking at you with a smirk. “Must be all the endorphins from sex.”
You can’t deny that he looks good. He always looks good. Must be the pussy and Botox he gets on the sly. “You gonna come out of my cake at my party like Marilyn Monroe?” Max asks and you shake your head, “no way, Phillips.” You snort and down the rest of your drink, gesturing for the bartender to get you another one. “Didn’t even know you were planning a party.”
He pouts at you again, looking hurt. “If I don’t throw myself a party, who would?” He asks, rolling his eyes. “Not like you would throw me one. You don’t even want to go out for that drink after work like I keep asking you to.”
You huff, turning to face him after you thank the bartender for setting your drink down. “Because it’s just to - to mock me. You don’t like me. I’m not your friend. We act like we like each other on tv but that’s it. I have a face for radio, remember?” You remind him of what he said to you the first day you met five years ago.
Max stares at you for a second and then laughs. Bending over the bar and laughing so hard tears come to his eyes. “You thought I meant that?” He gasps out, looking over at you and laughing again. “Sweetcheeks- that was- I was yanking your fucking chain.” He admits, calming down enough to speak. “You’re fucking gorgeous and you know it. Charming, witty. The whole package.”
You stare at him, shocked at his outburst. He’s flirted with you, especially on screen, but to hear him say he thinks you’re gorgeous…it takes you back. You pick up your drink, taking another gulp. “You gave me a fucking complex. I- I thought I wasn’t good enough.” You hiss at him, “I always thought - well, it doesn’t matter now. I’m going to go suck up to the execs before they leave. Try to keep my job another year.” You say and pick up your drink, striding over to Mr. Parker, the head of daytime tv.
Max shakes his head, watching your hips sway as you stride away from him. He had never imagined you would have taken him seriously. You always treat him like a joke, so why would you believe that? Of course you’re gorgeous, the network thrived on beautiful people and made it their mission to hire the prettiest talent in the business. Max orders another drink for himself and for you before deciding to join you. A little corporate ass kissing was never a bad move for the career.
You smile as Mr. Parker looks down at your cleavage. It’s not the healthiest dynamic at the network but you let some things slide in the interest of keeping your job. You giggle at his lame joke, trying to act like he’s so clever, when Max comes over and replaces your now empty glass with a new drink. “Ah Phillips, I was just telling your pretty co-anchor here about some changes we will be making to the outfits. I’m thinking we could get away with a couple of inches higher, don’t you?”
Max lifts his brows and pretends to consider it. It’s an insult and everyone here knows it. “Why don’t we have the weather girl in a bikini?” He suggests. “But for our hard hitting stories, I think the length of the dress won’t matter, we’re behind a desk.”
“I was thinking maybe our lady here could be standing up. Presenting in front of the screens like they do on other shows. That way she can show off those stems.” He says and you shake your head, “the whole point of the show is for me to be beside Max. That’s what the viewers like, that’s what they want.” You explain and Mr. Parker hums, “we shall see. I’ll speak to the producers…see what they think.” You nod, offering him a forced smile. You know the producers will have your back on this ridiculous suggestion.
Max glances at you and knows that you are unhappy with the idea and he will back you up. “So what’s your golf game looking like, Paul?” He asks, hoping to steer the conversation on to friendlier topics. “Every time I’m in the weeds, I think of your epic shot.” Paul puffs up proudly and nods, starting to tell Max about his latest game.
You down the rest of your drink and smile at your boss, “excuse me.” You say and make your way back across the event room to the bar, ordering another drink. You shouldn’t drink so much but between all the men in the room that look at you like a piece of meat, you’re ready to get drunk and forget the reality that your time is limited because of your age. They’ll want some twenty year old to take your place soon. You lean against the bar and thank the bartender when he sets another cosmo down. You sigh and turn to pick it up when you feel someone behind you. “Looking gorgeous as ever.” The voice of the foreign correspondent, Jack.
You turn to face him, a stiff smile on your face. “Jack.” You greet him, hating how he leans in even closer. His disgusting cologne wafting over you. He’s always been a little intrusive.
His eyes are dark and his smirk is supposed to be charming, but it comes off as creepy. “What are you doin’ over here by yourself?” He asks. “Rarely ever see you off Phillips’ dick.”
“I’ve never been on his dick. Ever.” You clarify, “I’m just sipping my drink. Enjoying the party.” You hum and take a step back from him.
“Nice to hear. You could be on my dick if you want.” Jack smirks, licking his lower lip and you recoil.
“No. I- I don’t want that.” You say, shaking your head and trying to let him down gently.
“You know, you’d probably move up from the morning show if you weren’t such a stuck up, frigid cunt.” Jack hisses, a scowl on his face, pissed off at being shot by the morning bitch. He is a foreign correspondent, respected and revered. He shoots you a nasty little grin. “Pretty soon your tits won’t be perky enough to keep your job and you’ll be doing the weather in Kalamazoo.”
You narrow your eyes at him, “and I’ll be telling everyone about your unwanted advances to me every single time you’re near me. I will tell HR and get you fired.” You hiss and Jack growls at you, “you’re a fucking bitch.”
You smile, “thank you, Jack.” You remain tall just as Max appears, his hand on your back. “Everything okay here?” He asks and you stiffen slightly, “everything is fine, isn’t it Jack?” You ask the correspondent, who scoffs and walks off.
“What happened?” Max asks, a frown on his face.
“Jack was being an asshole. As per usual.” You huff and turn back towards your drink.
There’s more to it than that, but you will never confide in him. Apparently he can’t even try to pretend to care. He pulls his hand away, and slips it into his pocket. “He’s an old drunk that thinks the weather girl is still picked on a casting couch.” Max snorts. “No means yes to him.” He warns you. “You say I’ll spike your drink, but I wouldn’t put it past that prick.” He scoffs.
You sigh, leaning against the counter, “you’re right. He - I’ve heard stories about the interns and some of the make-up girls.” You confess, rubbing your neck, “you know…you’re not as bad as him. You’re a good man really. I just like seeing that vein pop in your forehead.” You confess, starting to feel giddy from the booze.
Max snorts and rolls his eyes, his own alcohol consumption starting to make his body hum. “You just say that because you have to pretend to like me.” He huffs, sending you a pout before he slides into a grin to cover his hurt feelings. “You think I’m pretty though. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it.”
You scoff, rearing back from him, until you soften and lean closer again. “You are pretty. So pretty.” You confess, reaching out to run your finger down his cheek, “unfair how handsome you are.” You whine slightly, “I don’t have to pretend.” You admit with a whisper.
He shivers at your touch and leans into it the drinks clouding his judgment and making him speak before thinking about it. “You think I’m unfair?” He huffs. “I have to constantly hide the fucking hard on I’ve got around you.” He pouts. “Do you know how fucking distracting your perfume is? You don’t need perfume for tv, and when you’re near me, all I can smell is you and imagine….”
The booze doesn’t let you question the validity of his confession. You decide to revel in it and you lean in towards him, “imagine…?” You question, your eyes flicking down to his lips.
“Imagine you.” Max is too wrapped up in his confession to realize he shouldn’t say this to you. Shouldn’t say this at all. “Head between your thighs, tasting you, making you moan my name so sweetly before I slide inside you.” He pants breathlessly, cock twitching in his pants. “Watching you cum because of me, because of the way I touch you.”
You can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips at the thought. “Maxwell Phillips.” You gasp, your stomach twisting with arousal as you soak the lace panties you’re wearing. You glance around and are grateful that no one notices when you grab Max’s hand and drag him through the crowd and out into the hallway. “I want you to fuck me, Max.” You beg him breathlessly, grabbing onto his tie to pull him into the nearest empty room, a function room with tables and chairs.
“Wait, really?” His eyes widen and he’s not hesitant, he’s shocked as shit. But the way you are dragging him closer makes every caution sign in his mind filter away as you eagerly press your lips to his as you continue to back into the dimly lit room. “Fuck.” He moans, pressing against you when your ass hits a table and his hands are cradling your hips, helping you up onto it as your tongue slides into his mouth.
You don’t think about the consequences of this. Deciding to just feel for once, you groan as Max slides his tongue against yours and his hands explore your body. You moan echoes in the empty room as he kisses your jaw and he settles between your thighs as you open them for him.
He turns greedy. Hands filling themselves with your flesh, groaning into your mouth at the taste of the liquor from your tongue. The pure sense of you. The heat of your skin makes him twitch and groan again when he presses two fingers to the damp core of your lace panties.
You whimper, “please Max” into his jaw as he rubs your clit through the lace. He doesn’t deny you as he slides his fingers beneath the elastic of your panties and presses his manicured fingers against the bundle of nerves. “Oh God.” You moan, sliding your hands down his chest to fumble with his belt, trying to undo the stupidly expensive buckle until you can finally reach in and pull his hard cock out of his equally expensive pants. “Fucking hell.” You curse as you wrap your fingers around the girth.
He chuckles, kissing along your jaw.
“Try hiding that all the time.” He jokes, breaking off into a groan when you squeeze him firmly and start to stroke his cock. “Fuck, baby.” He whines, hips jerking forward into your grip and he twists his wrist to press his thumb against your clit while starting to work two fingers inside you.
You pant as he pushes two thick digits into you. You hate to admit it but you’ve imagined his hands on you, inside of you, many times during segments where the camera is off of you. You jerk his cock, swiping your thumb over the head to gather the pre-cum that has gathered there. “I need - I need you to - oh shit.” You moan when he curls his fingers just right inside of you.
“That what you needed?” He groans, biting along your neck gently while he’s trying not to get too excited. Your cunt is so tight and he doesn’t want to cum too quickly when he finally gets to fuck you. “Fuck baby, you’re so tight. My cock is gonna feel so good inside you.” He moans, kissing along your chest and nudging his nose between your breasts as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.
“Yes. Oh shit. Max. I’m gonna - you’re gonna make me-” You cut yourself off with a squeal as you clamp down around his fingers. Your grip on his cock loosening as your orgasm hits you and you pant his name into his hair as he licks along the top of your breast. “Fuck me.” You beg, “need you inside of me, Phillips.”
He doesn’t even consider birth control, he’s listened to the segments where you’ve talked about your own choice and knows you well enough to know you don’t have anything. His fingers are soaked and he pulls them out with a groan of your name. Batting your hands away to wrap around his cock and soak it with your juices.
You spread your legs wider and watch him as he positions the head of his cock at your entrance, pushing inside of you with a low groan. “Oh God, Max.” You whine, throwing your head back as he pushes into you and stretches you out.
He hisses as your tight walls surround him. You’re so much tighter and hotter than he ever imagined and he imagined it a lot. Slowly bottoming out and groaning your name again as he tries to keep from cumming. “Holy shit babe.”
You slide your hands under his bespoke jacket, clawing at his back as he twitches inside of you. "I need you to move." You plead. You'll think back to this moment later and cringe at how needy you sound but for right now, you need him to fuck you like you've secretly wanted him to since you started working together.
“Fuck.” Max can’t resist you. One hand planted on the table beside your head and he draws his hips back to plunge into you again. Enjoying the sharp gasp you give him and craving more as he leans down and presses his lips to yours. Starting to thrust into you with harsh, sharp slaps of his hips that rock the table while you cling to him and writhe underneath him.
You slide your tongue against his as he rocks into you. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could hear you. The music is faint from the function room where your work event is being held but you don’t care, too busy focusing on Max and the way he’s thrusting into you like his life depends on it. “Fuck, this is - it’s so good, baby.” You whine and wrap your legs around him, your heels falling to the floor.
Max grunts, agreeing completely as he bites his lip. “So- fuck- so good.” He groans your name again and bites down on your lip hungrily. “Baby, fuck, you’re so tight. How- fuck, you’re so good.”
"Ke-Kegals." You reveal breathlessly, "gotta - gotta keep fit to stay on TV." You whimper when he hits deep and you lift your hips up to meet his thrusts. "Keep going, Phillips, don't you dare stop." You demand when his pace stutters.
“So demanding.” He huffs, flashing you a grin as he nods. Taking a deep breath and rocking his hips harder. “Fuck, it’s your fault. So fucking tight.”
You shake your head, closing your eyes, "you're so fucking thick, Max. God, I don't - no wonder you have so many damn flings." You pant and he drops his hips just right to make you gasp when he hits something devastating.
He chuckles breathlessly, not even bothering to admit that he doesn’t have as many flings as he might have led you to believe. You would never think he was telling you the truth. “You’re tight.”
“Shit, Max. I- I’m gonna- just like that. Keep going like that.” You demand and groan when he keeps hitting that spot. “That’s it baby. Oh shit. Max!” You cry out, clamping down on his cock as he makes you cum hard. Harder than you have for longer than you’d ever care to admit.
“Thaaaaaaat’s it.” He groans, eyes nearly rolling back and he has to put more effort into fucking you from how hard you squeeze hum. “That’s fucking it. Cream all over me baby.” He groans. “Soak my cock with that pretty cunt.”
His words would usually make you cringe if you weren’t practically shaking beneath him as he makes you cum. “Oh God. It’s so good. So good. I want - want you to cum.” You plead, pressing your heels into his ass to push him impossibly deeper inside of you.
“Gonna - fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He pants out breathlessly, sweat rolling down his forehead but he ignores it. Too lost in the sensation of your cunt. “Fuck, fuck you’re so fucking wet, baby.” He praises. “Gonna cum, fuck, fuck-“ he lets out a strangled groan of your name when his hips stutter and he thrusts deep one last time, painting your walls with ropes of cum.
Moaning in delight as he fills you up, you caress his back under his jacket, and tilt your head up to kiss along his jaw. “Not too bad, Phillips.” You tease breathlessly as he rocks himself through his orgasm.
He huffs out a chuckle and shakes his head, rocking slowly as he pumps every spurt of cum into you. “Not too bad yourself.” He grunts, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours once more before he starts to pull out of you to watch his cum drip. “Now that’s a pretty sight.” He hums, delighted to see his cum leaking out of your cunt.
You roll your eyes and sit up, standing on shaking legs to pick up your panties. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. You’re gonna go back in there and act like this didn’t happen. We have to act like this didn’t happen, you understand?” You ask him, your eyes wide and pleading. If everyone knew you and Max had sex, you’d be branded a slut and he’d be revered for conquering you.
Max’s plan to ask you if you want to get out of here dies on his tongue and he adopts an easy grin. “No problem, sweet cheeks.” He chuckles and looks away from you as he tucks his cock back into his pants. “Can’t have anyone thinking that something happened. Might keep me from getting lucky with that new intern tonight.” He lies and starts to straighten his tie and smooth down his vest. Once he feels like he can look at you and not show you how upset he is, he tosses you a wink. “Thanks for the sex, baby.” He hums as he turns around and whistles while strolling out of the empty room.
You watch him walk out and you swallow harshly, ignoring the way your eyes sting with tears. It’s not his fault that you gave in and now you wonder what will happen to your working relationship. You let your guard slip. You can’t let that happen again. Walking out of the room on shaky legs, you make your way back into your work event, grabbing your clutch from the side and you don’t say another word as you swiftly exit the party, ignoring Max’s stare as his cum settles in your panties while you quickly leave before anyone notices what happened.
Sighing softly as you walk out of the party, Max wonders why you let him touch you. Was it a drunken mistake? A calculated ploy to get him fired for misconduct? He frowns as he turns back to the bar and motions for the bartender. He will pretend like it never happened and see if you do the same.
The weekend passes and you freak out about sleeping with Max. It’s changed everything. You don’t know if you’re going to be able to look him in the eye as your car travels to the studio. The producer calls your name, bringing you out of your thoughts and all you can do is nod. You have no idea what they were saying but soon, you’re entering the building and making your way up to the floor for the show. “Good morning.” Your intern, Natalie, greets you with your morning coffee and you thank her. Praying you don’t see Max until you get on set, you settle into your chair to review the segments and wait for the make-up and hair artists.
Max rolls his shoulders back and purposefully changes his step to one that is lighthearted and full of energy. “How are we doing this gorgeous morning?” He asks as he steps into the hair and makeup room, seeing you already in your chair and he hates how his heart pangs because he didn’t hear from you at all. Not that it’s surprising, just disappointing. “Everyone have a good weekend? Mine was amazing.” He boasts, waggling his brows playfully. “Didn’t get out of the bed, if you know what I mean.” He lies, knowing he spent the weekend depressed and wondering what the fuck happened Friday night.
He breezes by you and settles down into his own chair, pulling out the eye mask he carries with him with the serum that costs an arm and a leg, the promise of less wrinkles meaning he will pay any price. “Need some more rest.”
You swallow harshly, keeping your eyes on the script. The ghost of his touch has haunted you all weekend and you don’t know how to feel about his nonchalant attitude to you and the artists in the room. You wonder who took up his bed after you, your stomach twisting at the idea of it being that young new intern that seems eager to please. You turn to look at him when he places the eye mask on his face and your expression is one of heartbreak and longing - at least that’s what the make-up and hair stylists will say later when they gossip over coffee. “Busy weekend?” You ask eventually, trying to sound lighthearted.
“Yep.” He pops the p and sighs with a nostalgia that is solely for you and the night he got to touch you. “You? How was your weekend? Anything fun and new?” He asks, tilting his head up and removing the mask now that his stylist is here. His eyes focus on you with a serious gaze.
You can’t tell him you sat around all weekend having a crisis about what happened between you. “Oh, I was busy. I went out. Had dinner. Some drinks.” You say vaguely, “had a late night on Saturday so spent most of Sunday in bed.” You smirk, forcing yourself to give the impression that you weren’t alone.
“Ohhhh ho! Someone got lucky!” Max plasters a cocky look on his face and waggles his brows even though he’s pissed you fled and apparently went to fuck someone else. “Was it good? Bet it was good, but I would have been better, sweet cheeks.” He teases like he normally would have, but the words taste slightly bitter.
“In your dreams, Phillips.” You spit half heartedly, not wanting to elaborate on your lie as you hate the fact that he’s ruined everyone else for you. You’ve never cum so fast and so hard. Most men finish before you can and then won’t even help you get off. You’ve never felt that kind of electricity. The artist's exchange looks behind you as you and Max are distracted by your own turbulent thoughts. “Besides, sounds like you were warm and cozy in your bed with a new floozy.”
“You know how it is.” Max shrugs carelessly. “Friday night plans fell through so I had to improvise.” He stares at you for a moment longer before turning his attention to the hair stylist. “Can you make my hair extra shiny this morning, babe?” He asks, dropping his eyes to his hair and reaching up to fix a hair out of place. “Want to look my best for the cameras.”
You huff, shaking your head, “always the same. Always wanting the spotlight and - and always being so goddamn selfish.” You growl at him, batting the brush away from your face as you stand up and mutter about needing the bathroom before you rush out of the room. You hate that Max doesn’t even seem to remember that you had sex on Friday night. You were just another notch on his belt.
Max’s eyes follow you out of the room and the frown on his face isn’t even registering to him, although it’s being noticed by the other people in the room. Their glances to each other pointed and the hairstylist finally answers him. “Sure, Max. No problem.” She hums, running her fingers through his hair and Max sighs. “Just do whatever.”
You stare into the mirror in the bathroom, preparing yourself to head back out there and act like nothing is wrong. One drunken night with Max and your world is spinning out of control. You’ve worked so hard, focused on your career, and now you feel like you’re losing it all because you can’t stop thinking about how he felt, how he smelt, how he sounded. His moan of your name seems to play on a loop in your head and it’s driving you crazy. Hands shaking, you gather yourself as you head back into the make up room, glad to see Max is gone as you get ready to go on air.
Sitting behind the desk, Max tries to shake off the feeling that you are upset at him. You are the one who had left. Fled the party after begging him to fuck you. He’s kind of pissed off about it now. Setting him up to look like an asshole. He shuffles through the notes for the upcoming show and clears his throat, trying to get the smell of you out of his mind, his cock refusing to soften.
You spritz on your perfume, just to torture Max after what he told you, and you step onto the set to sit down at the desk next to Max. The team comes over to adjust your mic and you pick up your notes.
As soon as you sit down, a cloud of your perfume settles over him and makes Max groan. His cock twitching in his pants and he drops his head into his hand. “Max. You good?” The producer calls out from beside the camera man and he has to lift his head and pretend he’s not incredibly turned on.
“All good, just remembered I didn’t turn off the coffee maker this morning.” He lies.
You turn your head to look at him, eyebrows raised, and you think that the groan is in annoyance at having to sit next to you. “I should’ve called in sick.” You mutter and shake your head before the AD announces the countdown to live. When you are counted down to one, you plaster a smile on your face and straighten your back, eager to do a good job even if inside, you’re angry and confused at Max and his reaction like Friday night was nothing.
“Good morning and welcome to the Daily New Show.” Max tries to keep himself even more energetic than normal to make up for his turbulent feelings. “I hope everyone is having a fabulous Monday morning and we’ve got an impressive show for you today. As you know, it is Valentine’s Day so I hope you’re all prepared. I know I am.” He chuckles and turns towards you and introduces you as his lovely co-host. “Did you like those chocolates I put in your room this morning?”
You know Max didn’t put anything in your room but you play along, “of course. I’ll be enjoying some of those with my coffee later. Did you get my present?” You tease him playfully on camera, knowing you didn’t get him anything either but you want to make the viewers think you and him are the best of friends.
“No…” his eyes widen playfully and he tosses you a grin. “Whaddya get me?” He asks, knowing you didn’t get him anything. “Hopefully something good, because I’m worth it.” He winks at the camera and chuckles, knowing that you would not be thinking the same thing.
You shake your head, "you'll have to wait and find out. I'm sure you're gonna love it." You promise with a grin and turn back towards the camera. "Talking of gifts, let's go to Katie who has some last minute gift ideas for those who need something for the one they love." You smile at the camera and slump when they count you out. "Chocolates." You scoff, "you've never even gotten me a coffee."
Max rolls his eyes and snorts. “And? Not like you’ve ever given me anything either? Maybe looks of disgust, but I don’t count those, sweet cheeks.” The sad thing is, he had bought you some chocolates, the first year you were on air for your birthday, but you hand said you wanted no reminders of getting older so he hadn’t given them to you. “Only another fifty-six minutes in my company, you’ll survive.”
You sigh and sit up straight, unsure of what to say. You hate that you’ve reverted back to your old bickering, knowing that this won’t get you anywhere after what happened on Friday. You’re confused about how you feel. You wanted to ask him to come home with you after you slept together but you know you’d put your job on the line if something went wrong and Max would always be looking for the next best thing.
Max sighs softly when you don’t say anything and rolls his shoulders back as the countdown to the cameras being back on you starts. He should just forget Friday ever happened, it’s obvious that you regret it. “Thank you, Katie. Hopefully all the men out there without a plan can get it together and not disappoint their ladies, right?” He asks you, turning his head to look at you seriously. “Although I’m more of a romantic dinner at home, myself. Candlelight, soft music, bottle of wine.” He shrugs. “Nothing like a homemade carbonara.” It’s scripted, but true. He did prefer evenings in.
You offer him a nod and a smile, “sounds like my kind of romantic night in, Max.” You wink and continue with the prompter. It’s hard to ignore the way he stares at you sometimes. The intensity in his look has you shifting in your chair and when you are countered out, you immediately stand up and remove your mic, making your way into your dressing room. It’s impossible to forget the way he felt inside of you, the way he sounded. You can’t forget him and it’s torturing you. You wipe your forehead and place your hands on your hips as the door opens and you turn to see Max standing there. “I can’t do this anymore.” You admit, “I can’t sit next to you every day and act like nothing happened between us.”
“You?” He snorts and shakes his head. “You are the one that left. Walked away without a word and you didn’t call me. So how am I supposed to know what you want? You want me to quit? Too bad.” He scoffs. “You will just have to deal.” He’s pissed off now. Pissed that it meant so little to you and now you want him gone so you don’t have to live with your mistake.
“I- I can’t. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about how you sounded. How you felt. I- it’s torturing me.” You choke, “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I thought it was for the best and I figured you would act like it didn’t happen and go back to your one night stands but - shit, Phillips. I fucking hate you for getting under my skin like this.” You hiss at him, pissed at yourself as well.
“I don’t have a lot of one night stands.” Max admits, shaking his head when you scoff. “You were- you don’t fucking see it?” He asks, lunging forward and pressing into your dressing room so the door closes and grabs your neck to drag you closer to kiss. “You don’t see that I’m crazy about you?” He hisses before he kisses you feverishly.
Your eyes widen at first contact until your brain stops working and you relax into him. Letting him kiss you, his fingers digging into the back of your neck, and you moan into his mouth until your senses return. You push him away, "stop. We - we can't do this. If it goes wrong. It will go wrong and then our careers - we can't do this, Max."
“Goddamn you.” Max hisses, stepping back and his eyes are filled with nothing but hurt. “You only give a damn about yourself and you’re fucking toying with me.” He clenches his jaw and turns around. “Happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He spits, storming out of the room, humiliated that he put himself on the line again and you are rejecting him.
You stare at him as he slams the door behind him, your lips tingling from the kiss and your hands shake as you touch them as if trying to erase his kiss from your skin. It doesn’t work. You feel your eyes sting as you grab your things and change into your leggings and hoodie before you head home. Your head is aching and you try to think about the reasons why it would be wrong to give Max a chance.
Max berates himself the entire way back to his apartment. Hating how he had admitted to you that he doesn’t have flings. Knowing that you would just use it against him. His phone contacts land on his agent and he wonders if he should call him. Let him know what’s going on in case you decide to go for the throat and in the end, he can’t do it. He will quietly put in for evening anchor and let you have the morning show. It’s what you want anyway.
You bite your lower lip as you stand outside of Max’s building, the doorman recognising you and sending you up. You thank him and fiddle with the bag in your hand, the present you bought for the man you’ve secretly been in love with for years. You ring the doorbell and wait for Max to answer the door.
Max had changed from the suit he had worn to comfortable sweats and a t-shirt, figuring he would spend the rest of the day wallowing in self pity and order DoorDash for dinner since he was all alone for yet another Valentine’s Day. Groaning when the doorbell peels, he wonders if it’s the lady from the third floor who loves to come give her his opinion on the show. She’s old and her husband died last year, so he tries not to shoo her away too quickly, but he’s not in the mood for company. Dragging himself off the couch he opens the door to find you standing there, no make up and in leggings, looking more beautiful than you deserve. “What do you want?” He demands.
You stare at him, unused to seeing him in relaxed clothing, he looks younger. You sigh and shift from one foot to the other. “I was wrong. To push you away. I can’t - I can’t keep denying myself the chance to be happy because I am terrified that everything I have worked for will go up in flames. I have been in love with you since we started working together and that day I saw you speak to that old lady when we did the segment on Alzheimer’s and you were so sweet and kind. I had never seen you like that before, and it made me realize that I had fallen in love with you, but I kept that hidden because I was scared. I was fucking terrified Max, that you would reject me because you have the world at your feet and can have any woman you want, what would make me special enough for you to love me? then you kept mentioning all your flings and I knew that I would never get the chance to be with you. I didn’t want to risk everything but Friday, I put everything on the line and then realized that everything could go wrong and I got scared. I got so fucking scared and I am so sorry that I acted like nothing happened when all I want is to have you again and again until you send me away.”
Max stares at you, digesting the verbal book you’ve just thrown at him and he drops his shoulders. “Do you want to come in?” He asks, unsure if you are planning on running away again or if you want to actually talk. He opens the door wider and none of the normally sarcastic comments come out of his mouth, unable to put on a front any more.
You deflate, nodding as you step into his apartment, and you admire the decor. Masculine but warm and you know he probably paid an interior designer to help him out. He shuts the door behind you and you fiddle with the bag in your hand. “I’m sorry to just show up.” You murmur, glancing around his apartment.
“Not like I had plans tonight.” Max shrugs it off and sighs. “Can I get you something to drink? Water, tea, tequila?” He swallows and rocks his jaw before you can even answer. “Why did you leave? Did you regret it?”
You stare at him, wondering if he heard everything you said. “Did you not- I left because I was scared you’d reject me. That I was just a conquest and you’d go back to your flings. I didn’t want to ruin our careers by getting messy emotions involved. Because - because I was a coward.”
“But you aren’t a coward.” Max argues, frowning fiercely at the idea. “You’re fucking amazing. Powerful, confident, a real ball buster when you have to be. You push boundaries and demand respect - and earn it.” He tells you. “You’re gorgeous, smart, kind of funny, brilliant at reading an audience and you have so much compassion. But one thing you are not….is a coward.”
His words make your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. “I was - I am scared. Scared of getting hurt. Scared of reaching for you, for something that could ruin me. In every way in life. I love you, Max, and that night…I broke. I couldn’t hold back from what I wanted anymore and I was an asshole to run away. I don’t want to run anymore. I know what I want. I know how I feel.”
“I thought I had you that night.” Max admits quietly, your words scaring him slightly and making him wish this had happened years ago. “I thought I finally got what I had wanted for so long.” He sends you a small grin. “Was going to ask if you wanted to leave the party. Go get dinner that night.”
You shake your head, tears stinging in your eyes a little. “I shouldn’t have - God, I was an idiot. I should’ve stayed. I’m sorry.” You confess and he stares at you again. “I- I can go. I just wanted to give you your gift.” You say, handing him the bag.
“You- you got me something?” He asks, taking the bag and then reaching for your arm as you try to turn away. “Wait.” He begs quietly. “Don’t run away again.”
You don’t move, looking down at his hand on your arm, and you nod, turning towards him again. “I want you to open it.” You say, “and read the note.” You tell him and he nods, setting the bag down on the counter.
The box is one that he recognizes and he shoots you a confused look. “I don’t-“ he starts but you shake your head. “Read the note.” You repeat and he nods, diving back into the bag to pull out a red envelope.
You watch him open the envelope. You had them write on the note “to the one I adore” and you hope he doesn’t reject you. You wanted to show him how you feel, to show him that you know him. Even down to his dream watch.
“I don’t- I can’t believe you bought this.” He admits, looking up at you and looks at you with amazement. “It’s the exact watch I’ve been wanting.” He admits. “I just could never justify buying it for myself. How did you-?”
“Saved up. I got a bonus when I resigned my contract. Got myself a purse and I only made it this far because of you…wanted to say thank you for being there for me every day.” You tell him shyly, “I wanted to show you how I felt without actually telling you.”
“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head and sets the card down before he steps closer to you. “I can’t believe you.” He reaches up and caresses your cheek. “I feel bad because I didn’t get you anything.”
You shake your head against his palm, “it’s fine. I didn’t know when I would give you this. I’ve had it for a while. Trying to summon up the courage to tell you how I felt, to not be terrified.” You bite your lip as his dark eyes burn into yours.
“You shouldn’t have been terrified.” Max scoffs quietly. “I’ve not actually slept with anyone in months, nearly a year.” He admits. “Too busy being hung up on my co-worker.”
You lean into his palm and reach out to caress his cheeks with your hands. “Gladys the cleaner?” You tease and he chuckles, “damn. How did you know?” He asks and you giggle, leaning in to nudge your nose against his. “Please don’t break my heart.” You plead, “because it’s yours.”
“I sat home all weekend and sulked because you left.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “I don’t want something casual. If we do this, I want it to be a real relationship. Dates in, dates out in town, sleepovers and being disgusting together.” He smirks at you. “Everything.”
“People already think we are fucking. The unofficially married couple of daytime tv. I don’t see why we can’t make it official? I want to be disgusting with you, Phillips.” You grin, “I want everything with you.”
“Yeah?” Max grins back at you and leans in to nudge his nose against yours. “You know what we didn’t do Friday?” He asks teasingly. “I didn’t see how fucking hard you can cum on my tongue.”
You whimper, your hands sliding down to caress his neck and his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palm. “You can find out if you want? I want to see how much you cum down my throat too.” You murmur, sliding your hand lower until you’re rubbing his semi through his sweats. “I gotta say, I love you in casual wear.”
“Yeah?” He groans quietly, hardening under your touch. “I think I love you in leggings. You like it for the easier access?” He twitches when you squeeze him and pant softly. “Baby. I- fuck, can I touch you?” He begs, a gentleman despite his bragging. “Please let me touch you.”
“I think I’ll have to kill you if you don’t touch me, Phillips.” You demand playfully, reaching into his sweats to pull his hard cock out. “God, I didn’t get a good look and - no wonder you’re so damn cocky.” You groan and let go of him to spit in your hand, wrapping your fingers around his girth.
Max would chuckle, but he’s too busy diving under your shirt to cup your tits. “Want you naked this time.” He moans, rocking his hips into your hand. “Touch you everywhere. Fuck, baby, I- should I eat you out first, have you sit on my face or kneel between those pretty thighs?” The good thing about getting up so fucking early is that it’s not even noon yet, he’s got the rest of the day to spend with you if you don’t run away again.
You whimper when he squeezes your tits over your bra. "Fuck, Max. However you want me. I am yours." You promise, "just touch me." You plead, pressing your thighs together to get some friction.
Max leans in and bites your jaw. “Come on, baby.” He coos, excited to touch you properly. “Want to show you my bedroom.” He teases. “Give you the full Max Phillips tour.”
You would normally roll your eyes but right now, you desperately need him. The ghost of his touch has been on your mind since Friday and you need it, you need him. He guides you into his bedroom and it's clean, the bed is made. “I like your style, Phillips.” You smile at him as he lets go of your hand so he can pull your shirt over your head.
“Can’t sleep in a messy room.” He admits, although he tosses your shirt to the floor with a grin. “But I will happily leave your clothes on the floor allllllll night.” He promises, unhooking your bra with two fingers before dragging it down so he can wrap his lips around one of your nipples.
You gasp and arch your chest into his mouth, your hand quickly finding purchase in his hair. “Shit Max.” You whine when he bites down and you love it, you love how he seems so hungry for you.
Max growls against your skin, loving how you start to tug on his hair. His hands tug down at your leggings before he pulls away to push you down onto his bigger than needed bed. Grinning when you bounce slightly and he goes back to attacking your pants. “Fuck.”
You help him by kicking them off and his fingers are hooking into your panties, dragging them down your legs. “Fuck baby. I need you.” You beg, dripping wet for him and his hair is not gelled, falling into his face and your heart clenches at the grin on his face as he crawls up your body.
“You’ve got me.” He promises, stopping to nip, lick and kiss different places on your body. Stopping and staring at you with a serious expression on his face. “You’re beautiful.” He murmurs softly before leaning in to press his lips to yours.
You slide your hands down to caress his back as his tongue slides into your mouth. His cock is heavy against your thigh and you grab his shirt in your hands, wanting to see more of him. “Take this off.” You demand, tugging on his shirt.
He chuckles, pushing onto his knees to comply. “So pushy,” he teases, grinning as he tosses it away and starts to tug his sweats down over his ass. “I like it. Order me around baby, tell me to lick your pussy until you cream in my face.”
You giggle at the enthusiastic look on his face. “Want you to lick my pussy until I soak your face.” You demand, grabbing his face to drag him down between your thighs, maybe pulling on his hair a little too hard but his resounding groan tells you he likes it.
Max loves when a woman is demanding, taking what she wants because he also loves to do the same. A true switch when it comes to the bedroom. “Fuck, you have such a pretty pussy.” He groans when he sees your wet folds. “So tight too.” He tells you before he lunges forward to bury his tongue inside you.
Your cry echoes in his large bedroom and you moan his name, your hips immediately thrusting up into his mouth as he slides his tongue through your folds. “Holy shit, Max.” You throw your head back as he sucks on your clit.
He chuckles against your clit, sliding a hand between your thighs and he starts to rub your entrance to gather your slick before curling two fingers inside you. Loving how quickly you clench down on them as he licks at your nerves expertly.
His fingers and his tongue are magic. No wonder he has the reputation he has when it's so damn good. You whimper and lift your leg onto his shoulder so his fingers push deeper. "Holy - holy shit." You choke when he curls them just right and his breath washes over your clit.
“That’s it, baby,” Max coos, completely obsessed with the way you whimper his name. “Be a good girl and cum for me. Cum all over my fingers and face, pretty girl.” He keeps curling his fingers and sucks your clit back into his mouth as he watches you intently, wanting to witness the moment you cum.
"Oh shit. Shit. Just- fuck - just like that." You whine as he sucks your clit like those stupid caramels he unwraps between segments. You can't deny him as he curls his fingers just right and you cum, clamping down on his thick digits.
You’re louder than that Friday, of course you are. You are in a private bedroom where you won’t be discovered if you scream his name. Plus, this orgasm is completely centered around you, Max continues to pump his fingers and suck in your clit to work you through it. Greedy for your sounds and the way you soak his fingers.
When it becomes too much, you push him away, gasping his name, and you grab his shoulder, dragging him up your body. "I wanna-" You don't voice your desires as you shift to push him back on the bed, shifting to kneel between his legs. "God." You murmur as you wrap your fingers around his cock.
"Baby. You don't-" His protest dies on his lips as you lean forward to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” Max hisses in pleasure as your mouth takes his cock. Twitching and groaning your name when he feels you swallow around him. “Never-never thought I’d see this.” He admits breathlessly. “But I love the view.”
Your eyes crinkle as you smile around his dick, taking him deeper, and you love the way his jaw drops. "You are gorgeous." He murmurs and you slide your hand along his chest, caressing his skin as you start to bob your head.
It’s quite possibly the best fucking blowjob he’s ever had. Not sure if it’s because you are so eager to blow him, or that it’s just you, but you have him breathless and gripping the duvet quickly. “Baby, baby, you are so good. You’re gonna make me cum and I can’t do that right now.” He whines after you swallow around him again.
You reluctantly pull off of his cock, moving fast to straddle his thighs and you shuffle closer, sitting up until you can grip his cock and notch him at your entrance. You look into those dark eyes and sink slowly down onto him.
“Shiiiiiiiiiit.” Max grabs your hips but he doesn’t try to control you, just hanging on while your walls surround him. “Can we do the show just like this?” He pants out, “you sitting on my cock? Fuck, baby.”
“We’d either get no viewers or a ton of viewers for daytime tv.” You giggle, caressing his chest and you lean in to kiss his neck. “You feel so good inside of me, Max.” You murmur, kissing his jaw as you lift your hips until you’re sinking back down onto him.
Max blows out a loud breath, sliding his hands up and down your back. “I’m trying not to blow my load here, sweet cheeks. Don’t mistake that. Fuck, you feel so amazing. Like a fucking glove.”
You moan, loving the way he twitches inside of you. “All yours. Yours baby.” You promise and lean in to kiss him softly before you start to rock your hips, taking him deep inside of you every time you sink down onto his cock. He’s so deep and you aren’t in a rush for this to be over.
The pace is slower than before and Max groans every time you rock your hips. “Fuck baby.” He whispers, turning his head to kiss along your neck. Loving how you are slowly unraveling him.
You rock back onto him, caressing his neck and sliding your fingers through his hair. “God, I love you.” You murmur, shifting to press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks.
His breath catches, hearing you say it like that for the first time. “I love you too, baby.” He promises, lifting up to kiss you thoroughly. His hand slides up to your neck and he drags you closer, loving how your tits press against his chest and he slides his tongue into your mouth to deepen the kiss.
You savor the kiss, moaning into his mouth, and you whimper his name as he kisses along your jaw. You bounce on his cock a little faster, wanting him to cum for you. “Fuck, baby. I- I want you to fill me up.” You murmur, nudging your nose against his.
“Shiiiit.” Max hisses. “That is so fucking sexy.” He admits with a breathless laugh. Watching your tits bounce and he reaches back to slap your ass.
You groan as he helps you bounce harder on his cock. “Fuck baby. Yes. Yes! Just like that. Oh God. You’re hitting just right.” You ramble, lost in the sensations as he rocks you on his cock and the coarse hairs at the base of his cock rub against your clit.
Max chuckles at how desperate you sound, how greedily your cunt clenches around him. Groaning as he rocks you harder and plants his feet to thrust into you. “Want you to cum.” He grunts. “On my cock this time.”
You whimper, "gonna - oh God. Ma- Max. Oh fuck. Maxxxx." You squeal. clamping down on his cock and you cry out as he thrusts up at the right angle and sends you over the edge, making you shake against him as you orgasm.
Max chokes out your name, wrapping his arms around you and starting to thrust up into you wildly. Letting his own desires overtake the sedate pace and chase his own orgasm now that you’ve cum.
You let him thrust up into you, making you moan as he extends your climax. “Baby. I need - I want you to cum for me.” You beg, kissing his neck, and you end up biting his earlobe. “Cum for me, Max.”
“Ohhh shit.” You biting him throws him over the edge. Squeezing you tight, he rocks his hips up to bury himself inside you. Groaning as his spurts of cum paint your walls.
You caress his neck, running your finger through his hair as you kiss all over his face. His fingers dig into your flesh but you don’t care, loving how he feels surrounding you. “I love you, Phillips.” You murmur, enjoying how he feels surrounding you. “I’m sorry I ran away.” You murmur, knowing you aren’t running now.
“I love you too.” Max hums softly. “If you run this time, I’m coming after you. I don’t give a damn who knows it.” His arms loosen slightly and he looks into your eyes when you lean back. “Will you go to dinner with me? Not tonight, because we couldn’t get reservations anywhere, but I want to take you out properly.”
You nod, unable to say no to him and you lean in to kiss him again. “I’m not running away. I want the world to know about us. It’s - I’ve been thinking, this could make our career. The TV husband and wife that become husband and wife.” You tease and Max’s eyes widen.
“Marriage? Slow your roll baby.” He says and you giggle, rolling your eyes. “I’m joking. I want to marry you. Shit, I’ve never said that to anyone. I want you baby. I’m in this for the long haul.” He promises and you nod, leaning in to kiss him.
“Mrs Max Phillips has a ring to it.” You murmur and he chuckles, “who says I wouldn’t take your last name? I’m a modern man.” He winks at you and you snort, leaning in to nudge your nose against his. You don’t know why you’ve been running from your feelings and now that you are here with Max, you’ll never run again. He’s now your home.
****
“It’s that time of year again.” Max grins into the camera as the red light reappears. “Valentine’s Day. The day where men either panic as they figure out to impress their partners or prepare to take the next step.” He clears his throat as he looks over at you. His girlfriend of a year, even though the public was still guessing at how serious the relationship was. There had been plenty of photos of dinners out and cozily walking around town together. While you weren’t discreet, you both decided to be mum about the status of your relationship. Especially after a closed door meeting with the producers. Everyone at the station knew, and that was all that mattered. “Tell me, Valentine’s Day proposal, tacky or romantic?” He asks you. “I personally think romantic if done right, but what do you think?”
You hum, not picking up his reasoning for the question when it's on the teleprompter. "I think...if it's done right, it's romantic. If it's a 'shut up ring' then it's tacky." You explain, turning back to the prompter. "So today, we have a big surprise. Someone is going to be getting engaged on the show." You grin, still not suspicious as the producers told you about a guy who was going to surprise his girlfriend. "Look at Max." You read the teleprompter and frown, turning to see Max out of his chair. "What are you doing?"
“Baby, honey, sweet cheeks, I don’t think there’s anything tacky about the way that I feel about you.” Max tells you as he takes your hand and kneels down in front of you. “I couldn’t think of any place more romantic than the place I met you, the place I fell in love with your laugh, your heart, your brain and everything that makes up my partner at work.” He smiles at the shocked look on your face. “I wanted to propose today, since one year ago, we finally confessed how we felt and it’s been a magical year. So now I just have one little question.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring box. “Will you be my partner in life? Marry me, darling, be my wife please?”
Your eyes widen and you glance around at the crew who are grinning at you and Max. You inhale shakily, tears stinging in your eyes as the man you love kneels in front of you. "Baby. I - yes. A million times, yes!" You squeal and shift to kneel down in front of him, cupping his cheeks to kiss him without even caring about the ring, you're more excited to marry the man you love.
Grinning against your lips, Max knows that you’ve just made history, a morning show host proposing to his co-host on live tv. It will be the talk of the town. He doesn’t care about that or what the executives think. All he cares about is that Valentine’s Day is the day you became an official couple, the day you agreed to marry him, and next year - you’ll get married on Valentine’s Day. He will make sure that every Valentine’s Day you spend with him will be one to remember.
#pedro pascal#max phillips#max philips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips x f!reader#max phillips smut#max phillips imagine#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips fic#human!max phillips
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The Impaler
Chief Detective Tim Rockford makes a breakthrough in New York City’s latest serial killer case. The mysterious culprit is in the mood to share more than information.
my masterlist!
pairing: tim rockford x f!reader x max phillips
rating: 18+ (mdni)
tags and warnings: vampires, gothic architecture, slightly dubious consent, implied mind alteration/control, murder, death, blood, threesome, lots of biting, spanking, spitroasting, masturbation, DVP, fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap ur vampire dicks pls), wife sharing, free use kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), exchanging fluids, spitting, disgusting and filthy, max using cringey nicknames for reader’s pussy but it’s charming bc it’s max, handcuffs, light bondage, hair pulling
word count: ~ 7.2k
read on ao3!
a/n: hello, my loves!! i wanted to do something special for halloween, so i decided to slap together a short, silly, unpolished one-shot inspired by dracula! this one is dedicated to my vampire obsession and tim rockford's shoulder holsters. anyway, please mind the tags, and enjoy!!
PREFACE
“No one but a woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart."
— Bram Stoker, Dracula
“I swear to God, Ron, I’m two seconds away from taking up smoking again.”
Chief Detective Tim Rockford pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling his eye twitch minutely with every pass he makes of the cork board.
The seventh victim in two weeks, and he’s no closer to an answer. Last night, thirty-two-year-old Dean Madison was found by the harbour, a couple shades paler than his family insisted he usually was and with two small puncture wounds in his neck. Otherwise, the coroners didn’t find a single wound on him. Before Madison, it was a couple in Central Park, and before that, a college football player. Their bodies were all found in virtually the same condition, but not one of them is related.
Random. Unplanned acts of violence carried out exclusively at night, predicated on nothing but the apparent desire to kill. The culprit left no fingerprints, no murder weapon, no footprints. There's no motivation.
Groaning as he stands, elder Detective Ron Lauder hands Tim a manila folder. “List of the boats going in and out last night, if you fancy makin’ your eyes cross. I gotta call it here, man. You should go home, too, get some sleep.”
Tim claps Ron on the back. “Nah, man, I gotta file these away first. You go on home.”
“Don’t come cryin’ to me when you fall asleep in your Cheerios tomorrow.” Ron leaves yawning, and Tim hears the door gently click shut in the distance, signalling a familiar solitude in the bullpen.
The other cops know about the case. They all have bets running. Will the chief get it right? Will he get himself killed? When’s the next victim going to show? Tim indulges their morbid little fantasy pool by devoting most of his waking—and sleeping—hours to the task.
He decides to settle in with the logs from the docks. Scanning every line item, he feels his eyelids pulling down, and takes another sip of coffee to stay awake.
One name catches his eye. Demeter.
Tim narrows his eyes, his gaze travelling across the page. The logs only account for the past twenty-four hours, but he's seen that name before. He sets down the file and hurries to his desk, rifling through the top drawer, setting aside his pocket knife and his gun, to produce another file labelled ????
Not very creative, but it’s not like he’s going to label a file My Latest Failure. He opens the folder and scours the paperwork inside for witness statements.
There.
Fuck—here it is. His first goddamn lead.
On the 14th of October, a dock worker watched the Demeter stroll up to the harbour through the water and a man saunter inside, exchanging cash with the driver. The man left with a box. Because the Demeter was listed as a private vessel, the dock worker had reason for concern if the boat was conducting business without a license. He reported this to the police.
Tim eyes the cork board, following the red thread that connect each victim. He curses.
The next day, the boat’s driver was found dead in a Soho alleyway. Two puncture wounds in his neck.
Jesus Christ. Tim’s fingers tremble as he turns the page to continue reading.
If the Demeter is conducting frequent illegal business from that harbour and the client doesn't want anyone finding out, it’s likely that client is exactly who Tim is looking for. And it's even likelier poor Dean Madison was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Give me something. A wire transfer pattern. A paper trail. A benevolent benefactor who keeps the engine running.
Outside, the wind whistles, and Tim blinks away sleep. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shape pass by the window, and his head jerks up.
There's a bat hanging from the tree outside. The creature stares for a long while, near-incisive, as if telling Tim to go the fuck to sleep. He checks his watch. It’s two o’clock.
More than enough time to head down to the docks.
The next night, just after nine o’clock, Tim knocks on the door of a hulking mansion in Soho.
The Gothic spires of the home stretch to the wispy clouds, the moon taking up a vigil over the grand roof. Arched windows glare down at him. You are a trespasser, they hiss. You do not belong here. The door knocker is shaped like a pair of bat wings, and the ancient, ornate doors creak under the force of his pounding. Overhead, clouds continue to roll in, signalling some fall storm. A shiver racks his body.
A woman opens the door, and Tim’s heartbeat stutters.
You’re beautiful. Your smile is so radiant it infects your eyes, your body draped in a tiny white slip, skin so soft it seems to glow in the light. You briefly assess Tim with those keen eyes.
“Good evening, sir,” you say. Tim licks his lips. Your voice is soft as water.
“Good… uh, good evening, ma'am.” He forgets that he is supposed to remain suspicious and clasps his hands together in front of him. “Chief Detective Tim Rockford. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Oh,” you purr, demurely folding your hands together in a mirror action to Tim, “of course. Would you like some coffee?”
In the movement, he catches a glimmer of the golden band around your ring finger. “No. Thank you.”
Amusement twinkles in your eyes. “That’s good, because we don’t have any.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” he says good-naturedly. “What’s your husband’s name?”
“Phillips,” you reply dutifully, nibbling your bottom lip. “Max Phillips.”
Fuck.
He has the right person. He just can't help but wonder if you're a part of it, too.
There’s not a chance. You’re too good. Too beautiful. Your eyes pull him in, waves swallowing the shore, your pupils shrinking and dilating as if speaking to him.
“Have you seen this man?” Tim asks, presenting a picture of Dean Madison, drained of blood and neck punctured.
You frown, but he finds no glimmer of recognition in your eyes, no evidence of an increased heart rate. “Oh, gosh, no. I’m sorry.”
“That’s all right,” says Tim. He doesn't know why he bothers, but he hides the gruesome image. He doesn't want to see you upset.
“Am I in trouble for something, Detective?”
Your breasts sit so nicely in that little nightgown, the line of your thighs so tempting under the hem, your skin so fucking dewy he could lick all the nectar from it. Tim blinks hard. What the fuck is wrong with him?
“No,” he says tightly. “Just here to ask some questions. Does the name Demeter mean anything to you?”
Sheepishly, you shrug. “She's a Greek goddess.”
“She’s also a boat,” says Tim. “It’s connected to two incidents by the docks in the past couple weeks.”
“Incidents?”
The curve of your throat would fit his mouth so nicely. You’re beautiful in the way a marble statue is—elegant and poised, carefully arranged, silk dripping like honey off your perfect fucking body.
Tim clears his throat. His head feels foggy.
“Do you mind if I speak to your husband?”
“Maxie?” your sweet voice calls. The sound echoes off the polished walls, petering gently to a lullaby, and Tim wants to rescue you from such a cruel place. “Maxie, there's a man at the door, and he wants to speak with you.”
A man descends the grand spiral staircase, dressed in a suit even though it’s nighttime, adjusting his cufflinks and grinning like a real schmoozer. He’s got the same dark eyes and nose and mouth as Tim, but marked by signs of youth the detective doesn't have. He’s clean-shaven, bright-eyed, lively.
“Evening, Detective,” says Max Phillips. “Hope you haven't been giving my wife any trouble. Hi, baby.”
You beam at him, holding out your hand. Max threads his fingers through yours and pushes himself into your space, playfully nipping your earlobe. Your giggle is intoxicating. Tim wants to be the one making you smile this way.
“Mr. Phillips, have you seen this man?”
Phillips takes a break from crushing his nose in your throat to examine the picture. “Haven’t seen him,” he says, “but it looks like he isn’t seeing anyone.”
“Last night,” says Tim, tucking the picture away, “I went down to the docks and took a look around. You know what I found, Mr. Phillips?”
“This isn't a very fun game, Detective.” Phillips is busying himself with your hair, twirling a lock of it around his finger. You stare up at your husband like he hung the fucking moon and Tim wants to know what it feels like to earn that look.
“I found blood,” says Tim. “Bags of blood from St. Clare’s Mercy in St. John’s. What kind of sick bastard steals blood from a hospital? I wondered. Then I checked the registration and found a name. Phillips.”
The revelation doesn't seem to faze Phillips the way it did Tim. His lips curve in a frown against your temple. “Looks like the detective knows how to do his job.”
You play with your husband’s fingers as if coaxing him to use them on you. “Didn’t mean to,” you whisper.
“Shh, sweetheart, I know.” Max tucks your hair behind your ear, his voice so gentle. “I know you didn't mean to, baby. We all get hungry.”
Tim's nostrils flare. You’re both so indifferent to all you've done—you don't care one bit that you've killed, that you’ve left Tim and all his inferiors scratching their heads and losing sleep for weeks.
He’s got his culprits, all right.
What the fuck do they want with bags of blood?
His lip curls. “Just tell me the truth. We can all work together here.”
“About that man by the docks,” you say softly, stepping forward with a placating smile on your face. “I got carried away, Detective. I never wanted to—”
Tim has heard enough. He withdraws his gun from its holster and points the barrel between your eyes. “Do not. Move.”
Your lower lip juts out in a pout, but Phillips’s eyes darken, playful veneer crumbling fast, at the sight of a gun pointed at his wife. “Now, Detective,” he says good-naturedly, though his rigid posture betrays any sense of camaraderie. “If you're gonna point that gun at anyone, it should be me.”
“That so?” Tim’s eyes don't stray from you. Your eyes are wide as a doe’s, your glossy lips parted in vague shock, your silky nightgown contoured so deliciously to your shape. You smell fresh, roses and perfume, and his head goes fuzzy. Your skin looks so soft, glowing under the orange firelight…
He wonders how you would taste.
His finger trembles near the trigger.
Phillips presses closer to you, his hand sliding around your waist, his fingers splaying over your ribs. Possessive. His eyes are on Tim, and that look—it peels him apart. Tim may be holding a weapon, but he feels powerless to do anything at all.
Fear strikes him true. He should not have knocked on this door tonight.
“You know what I like about people?” says Phillips, idly circling his thumb over your waist while his eyes fall to your pretty face, his other hand twisting your hair around his finger. “I like that they're so… hmm, supple. It's like plucking all the petals off a flower. Can see all the stuff inside with one little pull.”
Phillips suddenly ducks his head and Tim jolts, pointing the gun his way, but the killer only places an open-mouthed kiss on your throat, just beneath your ear.
Tim watches your eyes flutter, a sedated little smile growing on your face, and he wants to know. He needs to know what you taste like.
“That’s more like it, Detective,” says Phillips, playfully nipping your throat before he pulls back. Tim sees a flash of glistening white as the killer bares his teeth and presumes a man as well-off as Max Phillips knows something about veneers. “I know what you want. You don't want to point that gun at my wife, do you?”
Tim’s jaw ticks. He doesn't. He doesn't want to hurt you at all. He wants to make you smile. He wants to slip his hand inside that nightgown and tear it all away to see what's beneath. He wants to put his mouth on you, touch you, do whatever you fucking want him to do.
Phillips chuckles, and a tremor oozes down Tim’s spine. He isn't safe here—he knew this straight away—but there's more to the couple in front of him than they’re letting him know. “Mmm, she has that effect on lots of people,” says Phillips. “Can’t tell you how many men I’ve had to kill just because they decided to touch.” He pinches your ass for effect and you laugh, hiding your face in Max’s neck.
“Is that a confession?” says Tim, gritting his teeth as another wave of your perfume pervades reason.
“Sure,” says Phillips, “it's a confession. But I don't think you want to leave. I think you want to stay here and fuck my wife. Do I get the cash prize, Detective?”
Tim wavers. The door is… It’s right there. He’s standing just inside, could turn around and bolt the hell out of here now, could radio for backup and cuff both of these freaks in two seconds.
He lowers the gun.
“Thaaat’s it,” coos Phillips. “I’ll offer you a deal now. Make her feel good, and I’ll forget about you pointing that gun at her.”
Tim’s cock is stiff in his pants, blood surging downward and away from his brain, his body calling to the siren song emitting from you. He’ll drown in it. There's no turning back. Behind him, the door swings closed, untouched.
You grin at Tim, biting your bottom lip and threading your fingers through Max’s hair. This way, you keep your husband fixed to you, nipping playfully at your throat.
“Do you want to touch me, sir?” you ask him, your voice dripping nectar.
Tim’s jaw ticks. His head inclines in a nod.
“No, no, no, Detective, that's no fun,” tuts Max. “Is it, baby?”
“Mmm, no fun,” you echo, the sound of it melodic, enchanting. “Want you to want it, Detective. Want you to show me you want it.”
Tim nods again, stepping closer, his eyes raking over your body in that little white slip, held in place by Phillips’ hands.
“You're not going to touch my wife with a gun in your hand,” says Phillips darkly. “You’re going to drop it, and then you’ll clean off your dirty fingers in her pretty cunt.”
Tim flicks on the safety and sets the gun on the table just inside the foyer, shucking off his jacket. He doesn't care about the goddamn case anymore. He’s bone-tired, sick of all the overtime he's putting in with no return on investment, and so lonely that it aches. He needs a body to bury himself inside, a sweet, pretty girl to taste. He didn't expect he’d pick the woman he's been chasing for weeks.
He approaches you slowly, taking in the entire length of your body, wondering about the texture of your hair, the softness of your skin. He gets to explore it tonight. He won't waste the chance.
The first touch electrifies his nerves. Your skin is velvet under his rough palms, your head tilting idly to the side as your husband continues to kiss your neck. Tim caresses your arms, memorising the feel of you beneath his fingers, and lets your eyes swallow him.
“Can I kiss you?”
His voice scrapes over your skin and lifts goosebumps, some echo of the bodily instincts you once had in life. You practically purr as you hook your fingers in the holsters straining under his broad shoulders and tug him closer.
“Please kiss me, sir.”
The scent of roses washes down his throat as he cups your face and slants his mouth over yours. Max occupies himself in the junction of your throat and shoulder, canines gently grazing what used to be your pulse point. You moan softly into Tim’s mouth, and his cock reacts accordingly, twitching in his pants as he presses his body against yours to deepen the kiss.
“Tastes so sweet, doesn't she?” Max muses, his hand squeezing your hip. “She’s picky, too. Must like you a lot.”
Tim groans as he pulls you closer, his hand warming the small of your back over the flimsy silk slip. His tongue slides along yours, his fingers threading in your hair, and he grinds his clothed cock into your hip. He eagerly swallows down your whines, consumed by how fucking good you feel against him.
Max’s fangs begin to protrude from his gums as his tongue lavishes your throat, lapping up the sweetness rolling off your body, your hormones, the way you radiate need even though your heart does not beat. His cock prods your ass, confined in his pants, straining to find the friction he needs. You're melting, hands grasping greedily at Tim’s holsters, his button-up, trying to absolve him of his clothes.
He’s so dizzy he can barely stay upright. He belongs right here in your shadow, kissing his way across your jaw, so caught up in the fervour of pleasing you that he doesn't notice the way your pulse does not flutter under his lips.
“Does it feel good, baby?” says Max, his fangs close to puncturing your skin. “Is he doing his job?”
“Yes,” you whisper, lashes fluttering as Tim’s moustache scratches the sensitive skin below your ear. Your fingers curl in his tousled hair, dark and streaked with grey, signifiers of age your Max will never show. Your Max, who wants to taste you even though it doesn’t sustain him, who indulges in the sublime sweetness of your blood just because he loves it.
Tim’s big hands trail down your body at the same time his mouth does, shifting the silk nightgown in his feverish need to feel more of you, bringing the entire thing down to the floor with him in one aggressive tug. You gasp, your nipples stiff as they're exposed to the cool air, your thighs squeezing together instinctively, watching Tim sink to his knees in front of you as if in a trance.
“Don’t be shy, baby.” Max’s hand trails across your belly, palming at your thigh. Tim is crushing his nose into your skin as he kisses the spot where your hip meets your thigh. “You want him to taste your pretty pussy?”
“Yes, Max,” you whimper. “Yes, please.”
His lips ghost across your temple. “Don’t beg me. Beg him.”
Your eyes dip below your body to find Tim staring expectantly at you as he scatters kisses along your belly, your thighs. His pupils eclipse those warm brown irises. “Please, Detective.” You comb his soft hair away from his forehead and bite your lip at the way his taut expression telegraphs unaltered desire. He needs this. He needs you. “Please taste me.”
It's all he wants. His big, broad shoulders ease your thighs open while Max moves to your back, letting you balance against his hard chest. The scrape of the leather holsters on the back of your thigh makes you shiver as Tim guides your leg up onto his shoulder. You’re fucking dripping for him, your pussy glistening with your own arousal, clinging to your inner thighs. Tim’s eyes shudder as he slowly licks your juices clean off your skin, his fingers dimpling flesh.
“How’s she taste?” says Max, his hand fixing around your throat. Your hand overlaps his for a grip on reality, your other firmly wedged in the dreamworld, grasping Tim’s messy hair.
“So fucking sweet,” growls Tim, his teeth sinking into your inner thigh, over your femoral artery.
“Oh,” you moan, your head lolling against Max’s shoulder. “He likes to bite, Maxie.”
“A thorough detective,” purrs Max, his thumb caressing your jaw. “Hard to find that kind of dedication these days. Don’t make her wait, Rockford. She wants you; I can smell it.”
Tim’s nostrils flare—one last breath of air before he sinks wholly under the water. His tongue darts out to part your folds, sliding languorously through your wet slit. You bite your lip at the sight of his strong shoulders wedged between your thighs, his nose pressed hard against your clit as he circles his tongue around your hole. You’re fucking nectar. It's euphoria, the indelible high he will always be searching to replicate.
“Detective,” you sigh.
Tim groans into your cunt, his hand coming down in a hard smack to your thigh. The sudden shock of the slap pools arousal in your core, a pitiful yelp leaving your mouth.
“Sir!”
“The detective knows what this pretty little kitty wants,” says Max, grinning against your cheek. He punctuates his words with a playful thrust into your backside. “He knows you like it rough, honey. You like that?”
“Yes! Yes! More, please, I’ll do anything.”
Max considers this, humming ponderously into your throat. “Anything?”
Tim places an open-mouthed kiss on your needy clit, and you gasp, “Anything!”
“You got a pair of handcuffs on you, Rockford?”
It's a flurry of activity. You're transported efficiently to the couch in the living room, a gigantic jewel-green sectional, your hands bound behind you by two cold metal cuffs. Bent over the arm of the sofa, your thighs are spread, your cheek pressed into the cushion as you're shamelessly bared for the pair of them. Whining, you wiggle your hips, standing on your toes and presenting yourself for someone to make you feel good, already.
“My poor baby.” Max is gently caressing the curve of your spine. “You said you'd do anything. You wanna break your promise?”
“No, no, I’ll be good,” you beg. “I’ll behave, please!”
“Hear that, Rockford?” says Max, still smiling fondly down at you. “She’ll be good.”
Hands grasp your thighs and wrench them farther apart, warm breath—living breath—blowing on your cunt. “Sir,” you gasp, writhing under his big hands, “are you gonna be nice to me?”
Tim licks a bold path through your slit and hums, his head spinning, inebriated from a taste alone. He’s keeping you spread open, lapping up your sweet juices, fixing for his next hit. Making you moan is victory alone. He’ll be more than nice to you.
He fixes his mouth to your clit and you cry out, your hands flexing uselessly in the handcuffs. He suckles at your pearl, every sensation heightened by the fact that you can't move, buried under the weight of all the hands and metal links and pleasure. Max watches, pleased with your behaviour, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. “You’ve been bad, honey. Got a little reckless. We’re gonna teach you how to be good.”
Tim nips your clit, Max’s silent partner-in-crime, and you mewl.
“Like you… know anything… about good.”
“Mmm, and so rude.” Max clicks his tongue in reproach. “Detective, I think you should show my wife what happens when she's rude.”
The tongue licking through your cunt stops, and a garbled sound of protest escapes your throat, your eyes bleeding mascara into the cushion. You pulse frantically around nothing, desperate to be filled somehow, anywhere. You whimper for Tim, Maxie, someone, please—
A hot, wet glob of saliva lands on your puckered asshole, and a gurgled moan leaves your lips as Tim cleans off his own spit with his tongue.
As he swirls the wet muscle around your hole, his hand comes down in a hard slap on your ass, and you squeal, your arousal splattering on his clean white shirt. Apparently pleased, Tim groans, two thick fingers parting your folds.
“Ah! Oh, fuck, sir, please…”
Kneading the flesh of your ass in one hand, the other occupies itself by playing with your pussy, and for the first time, the detective gives you an order.
“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, sinking two fingers into your tight cunt. His voice sounds like the shroud of night, like he knows exactly how illicit this is and fucking delights in it.
The feeling of his tongue on your asshole and his fingers curling up against your spongy walls has you drooling, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. “It’s… ah, fuck… it’s so good, Detective. Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna—”
Max tucks your hair behind your ear so he can see the wrecked, dazed expression on your face. “We’re going to fill you up, honey. Let you prove that you're a nice girl. That sound like fun?”
“Yes,” you moan, trying to maintain eye contact with Max even as your vision blurs with tears, “s’good. Need to come, Detective. Please.”
Tim spanks your ass again, his mouth slurping indecently at your backside, his fingers coaxing you to a high you don’t see coming. Your thighs shake uncontrollably as he rubs up against your g-spot, your mouth dropping open in a silent scream as your entire body seizes.
“There she is,” purrs Max, “such a nice girl, asking before she comes. How does your pretty kitty feel, baby?”
“Mmmsogood.” It's all a jumble in your mouth as your tension dissolves. Behind you, Tim is so gentle, licking up the release that has dripped down your thighs and tastefully avoiding your pussy.
Max caresses your cheek. “Check in with me, honey. You want to keep going?”
You nod vigorously, flexing your fingers. Max intertwines his hand with yours, squeezing. “I want you in my mouth, Max. Wanna make you feel good.”
He grins crookedly, making eye contact with the detective behind you. Tim’s eyes are black, bright as a moonlit lake, his cock tenting his pants. Max isn't much better off. Your body will do that to a man. A woman. Fucking anyone.
He’s just better at controlling himself. He’s had seventy years of practice.
Max’s eyes don't waver from Tim as he speaks to you. “Want our nice detective inside you, baby?”
“Oh, please,” you gasp. “Please fill me up, sir.”
Max cocks his head toward Tim. “I think she's been good enough. Don’t you?”
Tim nods. You have. You’ve been so good. He’ll give you any goddamn thing you want. He’ll throw himself at your feet time and time again if it means you’ll look at him this way. Over your shoulder, you meet his eye, smiling sweetly enough to give him a toothache.
“I’ll be a good girl, Detective.”
The glint of the metal cuffs reflects in his eyes, and he looks like an animal.
Both he and Max shuck down their zippers, but it’s Tim’s hands that grab for you, hauling you backward by your hips and wrapping one large hand around the chain between your cuffs. Pulling hard, he forces your body upright as Max settles in front of you.
You look up through your lashes at your husband, who tangles his fingers in your hair and yanks your head back. You’re effectively suspended in the air by both men, your hips sorely rubbing against the arm of the sofa. It’s intoxicating.
Between your kiss-bruised lips, Max watches your fangs protrude, and he tuts.
“Gonna have to learn to control yourself, baby. Otherwise, this is gonna hurt for me.”
You swallow hard, retracting the sharp points of your teeth back into your gums. Max sings his praises by pulling out his hard cock and slapping it playfully against your cheek. Moaning his name, you begin to drool, the need to please igniting your body into action, your fuse lit from both ends.
Behind you, a warm, hard length rests between your asscheeks, and your back arches as best it can with Tim pulling at your cuffs. “Mmm, you’re so big, Detective,” you croon. “Is it gonna fit?”
Tim tugs roughly at the cuffs, a deep noise like a growl leaving his lips. “Gonna fuckin’ make it fit.”
“Open up,” says Max, guiding his cock to the seam of your mouth. “Open, and he’ll stuff your pretty little cunt.”
You part your lips and stick out your tongue, eager to take your husband’s big cock into your mouth. He’s long, thick, ridged with veins that you could trace with your eyes closed. But he doesn't like it when you close your eyes. He wants to watch you take him.
He pushes the tip into your hot, wet mouth, lip curling to reveal sharp teeth glinting white in the firelight. Your skin is pleasantly sticky with warmth, your mascara smudged beneath your eyes. Tim grasps the base of his cock, smearing his precum through your folds and catching on your clit. You moan around Max’s cock, letting him slide deeper down your throat at the same time the detective’s cock notches inside your cunt and begins to sink inside you.
Tim’s free hand grabs your hip to steady himself. Fuck, you're goddamn tight—warm and wet, your greedy pussy sucks him in, wrenching open around his length. His nostrils flare with self-restraint, the Herculean task of maintaining some composure even as his entire body thrums with the need to take you, to use you like a pretty doll and relieve all his stress.
What the fuck is happening to me?
“She’ll let you,” says Max, and Tim has to blink hard to see the man across from him. “She’ll let you use her. She likes being treated like a cumslut. Right, honey?”
Your fingers flex, locking around Tim’s wrist, and you bob your head around Max’s cock. “Shit, that’s right,” growls your husband. “Feel that, Detective? She’s fuckin’ begging to be filled up. Don’t go easy on her; she won’t be happy.”
Tim feels the rest of you give, and his hips bump into your ass. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”
The fire's embers crackle against his back. He’s where he belongs.
His first thrust is experimental, watching the way your ass jiggles and your nails dig into his wrist, your throat contracting around Max’s cock. His second is indulgence: a slow drag out, back in, savouring the way your walls suffocate him. By the third, he’s lost control.
He begins to fuck you hard, the momentum of his thrusts forcing Max’s cock down your throat. “Je—fuck,” spits Max, fisting your hair, transfixed by the tears brimming in your waterline, the delicious slide of his length along the walls of your hot throat. “Such a fuckin’ pro. Gonna turn me into a two-pump chump. Gonna fuckin’ embarrass me in front of our guest.”
Tim grits his teeth as he pounds you, relishing his total control over your body, bending it to his will. You're so fucking good, so sweet, and he doesn't know why he ever suspected you.
He should turn in his badge for pointing a gun at you.
You whine around Max’s cock when Tim grinds deep, the head of his dick kissing your cervix, your eyes rolling back in your head. He feels you shudder underneath him and does it all over again, fucking you hard, deep, mercilessly.
You swallow Max down to the base, wiggling your tongue along the vein on his length. “Gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he groans, but you're undeterred. You hum, the vibrations coursing through his body, and his balls pull up, emptying his cum down your throat in rhythmic pulses.
“Fuck.” Max pulls out of your mouth just to spill the last of his cum on your bruised lips, painting you white. “That’s my fucking girl. Show me.”
You open your mouth again, tongue lolling out to proudly display his release. He rubs his thumb over your chin and spits into your mouth.
“Now swallow.”
You do, gulping down his cum and showing him your clean tongue when you're done. Max smirks, too damn proud for his own good. “Made you cry.”
You have little room left in your head to bask in his praise. Tim is taking charge, engulfed in the ecstasy of fucking you, his hips punching hard into your ass and forcing your back to bow with the grip he maintains on the handcuffs. Your next orgasm is approaching, your clit rubbing against the arm of the sofa and sending electrical tremors to your core.
But Max is still steel-hard despite his orgasm, watching the way your ass bounces with the force of Tim’s thrusts, your bound hands collected in a useless pile at your back, the breathy moans that leave your mouth. “Gonna need to take a break from breaking her, Detective. I want in, too.”
Some territorial part of him snaps and claws, too consumed by your body to let another man near it. Max clicks his tongue, giving Tim a dangerous smile. “Be careful, Rockford. Don’t get greedy with your treat.”
A strangled “unh” is your input, eyes shuttering as Tim reaches deep inside you again, mounting your orgasm to a foregone conclusion. Max sees the glaze drip down over your eyes, and decides to watch you come apart under a different man’s cock. “Spoiled, honey,” he mutters. “You’re spoiled.”
You come hard, joints locking and thighs squeezing Tim’s where they keep you spread apart. Your entire body jolts with electrical pulses, the pleasure coursing white-hot through your useless veins. He holds you in place, impaled on his dick, writhing around to get as much of him inside you as you possibly can. Tim grits his teeth, a faint whimper escaping his throat. The feeling of your pussy contracting around him, soaking his length, has him dizzy, close to keeling over—the scent of you, the warmth of your tight cunt, the way you coo his name and call him sir. Thank you for letting me come, sir. Fuck, sir, you feel so good inside me. Don’t leave me, sir.
He doesn't ever want to leave this fucking house.
Max slides his palm over your spine and you melt under it. “Come on, honey, let’s get you up. I’m in the mood to share some more.”
You whine as Tim reluctantly pulls out, weeping precum into your used hole. He’s going to fucking die if he doesn't come soon.
He helps you upright, kissing all the way up your spine and enjoying the soft hums of pleasure that emit from your lips. He wants to stay forever. He wants to bury himself inside you and never pull away.
“Mmm, Detective,” you purr. “So strong.”
“Yours,” he grumbles, his plush, wet mouth feverishly tracing a path along your jaw. “‘m yours.”
“Hear that, Maxie?” You beam at your husband, threading your fingers through Tim’s behind your back. “He’s mine.”
Max grins. “Let him prove it. C’mere, honey.”
Tim walks you to the couch and helps you kneel, settling behind you. Sitting in his lap, his mouth on your throat, you watch Max approach, slowly fisting himself. He kneels, too, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp his name, your back arching, and Tim uses the opportunity to slot himself at your entrance, sinking you down on his cock with none of the care he took the first time around.
He’s deeper at this angle, grinding up against your front wall, absconding with any attention he had for staving off his orgasm. His teeth nip your earlobe, your jaw, one arm banding around your waist and squeezing your breast.
In front of you, Max grips himself and continues to rub your clit with the head of his cock. You mewl like a cat, and Tim groans, burying his face in your neck.
“Fuckin’ Christ,” he hisses, his hips bucking up into you. “Jesus, baby.”
“He’s a blasphemer,” teases Max.
“Good,” you sigh, your head falling back onto Tim’s shoulder. The scent of leather and sweat engulfs your heightened senses, and the erratic thrum of his pulse echoes in your ears. His blood is warm, thick, rich—
Just a taste, you think, your eyes drooping at the very thought. Just one taste. I’ll be good…
Max coaxes you to another high with the pressure at your clit, but when he sees your mouth drop, he takes it away from you. You pout, petulant as ever, and Max mirrors it mockingly.
“One dick inside you isn't good enough?” He shuffles closer, yanking your head back by your hair and kissing you hard. His tongue dips into your mouth, and your fangs begin to descend, catching his lip before he breaks away.
Max prods his lip with his thumb and watches the blood bead, reaching out to smear the small crimson stain onto your lips. Hungrily, you lick it up, the cat with the cream, staring up at him with those faux-innocent eyes.
He snarls, fitting the head of his cock at your already-filled entrance. “Relax.” It’s Tim's raspy voice, mouth still fixed to your throat. You sink into him, letting Max open you up wide.
“That’s fuckin’ it, baby,” says your husband, smoothing his hand over your belly and wrenching open your hole to fit himself next to the detective. “Feel us in here?”
“Unnghhh.” Your mouth is open, your pearly fangs glinting in the dim light. Tim drags his nose up your throat and opens his eyes to study your face in the moment of pleasure.
He barely registers the too-sharp teeth, the blackened veins crawling from your eyes. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It's all he knows as he begins to fuck you in tandem with your husband. His body vibrates with desire. His head is static. He belongs to you.
You’re so full. You're going to burst, and they're relentless, uncaring, caught up in the list and pheromones and perhaps the competition of seeing who can get you there first. You can only manage faint squeaks as they repeatedly take you, your body suspended, a pretty toy they get to use as they like. It’s so erotic that your cheeks burn, your core building with the pressure of another orgasm.
So fuckin’ tight.
Such a pretty fuckin’ doll, letting us use your body.
Gonna take our cum, baby? You gonna keep it all safe inside you?
She’s coming. Looks so pretty when she comes.
Come, pretty girl, and we’ll fill you up. Give you a nice treat.
You no longer know who’s speaking. It's all rolling around in your head, the smell of blood pounding in your skull, the temptation to turn your head to the side and taste the nectar from his throat. Your orgasm devastates you, your body quivering, both men lavishing their tongues and mouths over your skin as they continue to wreck your cunt.
Fingers flex against your ribcage, your wrist, and Tim is coming, his teeth bared against your temple and the leather holsters on his shoulders scraping wetly against your back as he grinds into you and stays there. His hot cum pumps into you, splattering your walls and Max’s cock. His balls continue to empty inside you as your husband reaches his peak, nudging your chin upward so he can sink his teeth into your throat, gulping down your blood.
Max’s head goes fuzzy with your taste, sweet and soft as velvet as it slides down his tongue. You moan at the feeling of his cum filling you up at the same time he depletes you of blood you don't need. They both empty themselves inside you and let your body slump against him. You hear the rustle of a key in your handcuffs and feel them release, falling to the floor.
Max and Tim ease out of you, and you turn around to lower yourself onto Tim’s hard chest, toying with the buttons of his shirt. Behind you, Max scoops up globs of cum that have slipped out of your used hole and stuffs it back inside.
Tim’s eyes are fixed to you, dark and gentle, his hand gently squeezing your wrists. “Did I hurt you?”
“You couldn't hurt me,” you purr, sliding your hands under his collar and threading your fingers through his tousled hair. “You're so sweet to me, Detective. So big and strong.”
He trails his fingers up your back until he can cup your face in his hands, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. “Your teeth…,” he murmurs, a vague expression of puzzlement on his face.
“You aren’t going to take me down to the station, are you, Detective?” You curl your finger around a lock of silver hair, pouting down at him.
“No, baby.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I’d never. You’re safe. Safe with me.”
You beam at him and playfully nip his nose. “You’re a good detective, Mr. Rockford. You’ll find the killer soon.”
He nods vigorously. “I will.”
“And you’ll put them away,” you say, biting your lip as you slowly unbutton his shirt. “Because you're so good.”
“I’m good,” he echoes, unable to tear his eyes from yours. His body feels limp, calm, satiated, when he's touching you this way. The job disappears. The stress disappears, the exhaustion and the malaise. Humankind is a pathology, and you are his cure.
“Max,” you coo, resting your cheek on Tim’s chest and listening to his strong heartbeat. “I like him.”
Max hums, his knuckles gently dragging up and down your spine. “I know, baby. You wanna keep him?”
Quietly, you nod, littering kisses from his chest to his neck. You indulge in the fluttering pulse beneath his jaw. Tim smiles, sedated, tucking your hair behind your ear.
Max nods, giving your ass a playful squeeze. “Okay, honey. Go on—ask him.”
You prop yourself up on Tim’s chest and trail your fingers through his beard. “Do you wanna stay with me?”
Tim’s brows crease. “You want me to stay?”
“Forever,” you whisper conspiratorially, your fingers drumming an eager little dance on his chest. “I’ll make you real happy. I promise.”
Tim sees the points of your canines, the veins bleeding from your darkening eyes, and feels no fear. He lets you tip his head back, baring his throat, and he lets you lick a bold stripe up his neck. My answer is yes, he thinks, and he hopes you can hear him, crawling happily down into a hell that will warm his body for eternity.
Peace overcomes him as your eyes meet his, and your fangs sink in deep, the light slowly dimming to a faint memory.
CASE CLOSED.
#kiwisbell's fics#pedro pascal#tim rockford x reader#merge mansion#tim rockford#tim rockford x you#tim rockford x f!reader#max phillips#bloodsucking bastards#max phillips x you#max phillips x reader#max phillips x f!reader#max phillips x reader x tim rockford#max phillips fanfiction#tim rockford fanfiction
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Control (18+)
gif from pinterest (@javier-pena i think)
Kinktober Prompt: sex pollen, thigh riding, forced orgasm (day 4)
pairing: Max Phillips x f!reader
summary: Drinking with your boss goes differently than you'd planned.
“Mm baby, I bet I could get one more out of you, what d’ya think? Can you cum one more time for me, like a good girl?” You looked into his eyes, seeing his hunger for you, it was carnal, lecherous.
wordcount: 2.3k+
warnings: no Y/N, this is sort of dark, DUBCON, max has a thing for reader, boss/employee dynamics, drugging (w/blood), intoxication, dom/sub vibes, teasing, nipple play, grinding/dry humping, voice kink, praise kink, magic kinda, making out, overstimulation, small visual hallucinations, multiple orgasms (2), use of “good girl”, dirty talk
A/N: max is a little OOC also my vampire science is slightly based on true blood–if a human ingests vamp blood (so not sex pollen exactly), they sort of trip on it BUT there are less extreme visual hallucinations + it just makes you feel rllyyyy good and very h-word. he can also influence you if you make eye contact for a few seconds (which is just glamouring in TB lol)
“How’s it taste?”
Max watched as you took a couple sips of his fancy red wine (whose name you couldn't pronounce), eyes a bit widened in excitement. You let the taste linger in your mouth for a moment, before replying. “Not bad, it's a little strong, but smooth. Reds usually don't do it for me, but this, it's pretty good.”
He smiled at your candidness, subtly scooting a bit closer. The two of you sat on high stools in his kitchen, talking at the marble island. Max had invited you over early in the day, during your lunch break, stating that even though you'd been working there for a few months, he barely knew anything about you. Said it would be good to get to know each other, it would help ease you into the work culture.
“I’m glad you like it.. it's been fermenting awhile, probably longer than you’ve been alive!” He says, with a slightly obnoxious laugh, watching you giggle in response.
The both of you chat about random stuff, mostly about you– how long you’ve been in the city, where you came from, etc. Every time you want to ask him about himself, he sort of beats you to it, pulling bits and pieces of information out of you.
A few moments later, you start to feel woozy, more in your head and upper body. “Woah, that stuff was strong.” You’re giggling, reaching for the bottle that stood on the counter between you and Max, wanting to read it again.
“You feelin’ it?” He asks, eyes steadily trained on your face, his body turning to better face yours. A chuckle leaves your throat, “Yeah, it's…” You just shake your head and sit the bottle back down, at a loss for words to describe how your body was beginning to feel.
It was good, a sort of light feeling, as if every particle of your being was being lifted up by tiny little angels, washing away that heavy burden of being a person. No more stress, no more doubts, no more responsibilities, no more ego.
There was also a physical tingling slowly radiating from your spine to every other part of your body, your head, your tummy, your toes, fingertips..
You brought your hand up, eyes wide in amazement at the faint glowing you could see emanating from your nails. You eyes briefly left your hands, going up to meet Max’s, your mouth hung open as if to say do you see this? but nothing came out. He watched you, with a sort of amused, content look on his face, lips slightly upturned.
Your arm slowly reached out, hand stretching towards him, wanting him to see and feel what you were experiencing. When you touched, it felt like electricity– “Oh!” You gasped.
But the sharp feeling quickly turned into a soothing, warm sensation as Max fully took your hand in between both of his. He gently rubbed your hand, while you sat in complete awe. You met his eyes again, and this time you could see the darkness in them.
His orbs were almost black, gaze trained on you with such intensity that sober-you would've simply imploded. But right now– they were comforting, nearly tranquilizing.
“How are you feeling? Good?” His voice was deeper, more…sensual–it hit your ear in a different way than before. You wanted to hear more.
Nodding your head, you leaned your body in a bit more towards his, reaching your other hand up to his face. You were only slightly surprised to feel that jolt again, that static that seemed to sit on his skin. You stroked his cheek softly, soothing that electricity just like he did with you.
“Mmm..” Max groaned and his eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back slightly as your fingers graced his jaw. You watched as he reveled in your touch, leaning into your hand. Your fingers traveled along the outline of his face, going down until they were loosely grasping the side of his throat with your thumb stroking his cheek again.
Max’s eyes opened again, looking as though he was shocked that you could get him like this. “Come,” And then he was pulling you by your arms, so quickly that it didn’t feel real. For a split second, you stood there, in between his legs, with your faces only an inch apart, so close that there was equal static flowing between you two.
And then you were falling.
You’d been sitting for so long, you didn’t realize how numb your legs were. “Woah there, mama, let's get you up.” Max cooed, standing up to catch you and help get you upright. You weakly held onto him, less focused on your legs and more focused on how close you were to him, the woody scent of sage and cedarwood in his clothes, and the way he was holding onto your body, his own tall figure serving as a protector for you. “C’mon, baby, I’ve got ya.”
The lights were low, the constant whirring of the ceiling fan lulled you in the background, and you were in heaven. Max had led you into his living room, sitting the both of you down on the soft sofa with you atop his lap. He firmly grasped your chin with his right hand, bringing your eyes back up to his. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”
His voice had a tone of dominance in it, and his eyes had you falling into that peaceful trance again, unable to focus on anything other than him and the wonderful sensations happening within your body. “Feelin’ good,” You meekly whispered, voice a bit hoarse from not having spoken in a minute.
“Mhm?” He looked pleased with your answer, leaning back into the sofa as you remained straddling his lap. His hand dropped from your face, both coming to rest on your hips. His eyes wandered, first to your lips, then your neck, down to the curves outlined in your short black slip dress, especially your breasts.
Max lifted his hands up to each of your breasts, gently holding each of them in his palms while you looked down at him, nothing but calm in your eyes. Then his thumbs lightly flickered across your nipples, drawing a gasp out of you. His eyes lit up at both the sound you made, and the way you jumped in his lap, subtly grinding into his hardening cock.
“Do you always wear such revealing clothing when at your boss’ house?
Your eyes widened at the question, head shaking in response, feeling yourself become needier the longer his hands were on you.
“Hm?” He stopped thumbing at your nipples, eyebrows raised with a stern look on his face.
You got the hint. “No, no I don’t..”
“It's just for me?” The touching resumed, now turning into soft groping.
You nodded your head, “Only for you.”
He squeezed and massaged your breasts, causing you to let out breathy moans above him. A cocky smile graced his face as he began to pleasure you. Max was now fully hard and slightly grinding his bulge up into your soaked panties, hissing at the feeling of your warmth, even through his pants.
“Fuck, baby…you’re so good, y’know that?”
A pang of electricity shot through your stomach, making you feel even weaker. His hands, his eyes, his cock hard under you, and his fucking voice… everything had you so far under.
“Jus’ wanna be good for you,” Your voice was so soft and hushed, but you knew he’d heard you. “Yeah?” He asked, and you nodded in response, your eyes low and focused on his.
He sat up to come in closer to you, his firm hands coming up to your face, pulling you in until you were an inch apart. You stared into his eyes, the depth of darkness pulling you in, enticing you. All you wanted was him. To become one with him.
You kissed him, a bit too fast, with a sort of hunger, and then you quickly pulled back and leaned your forehead onto his. He panted, a feral, frenzied look written all across his face, letting you know that he needed this as much as you did.
Your faces pulled back together and his hands shot down to your ass, pulling the bottom of your dress up above your hips. Feeling that you only had a thong on underneath, Max hissed in pleasure. His hands grasped each of your cheeks, squeezing and groping, more obviously grinding his bulge up into your heat. “Y’feel that baby? Feel how much I want you? How much I need you?”
“Yes,” You let out a breathy moan, your head swimming in clouds. “It feels so good.”
“Show me. Show me how good you feel.”
Your hips began to move, rocking back and forth on his lap, your clothed clit rubbing against the hem in his jeans. Every time it hit that one spot you let out a moan, each one getting louder than the one before.
His right hand came down on your ass hard and fast, feeling like a lightning bolt shooting through your backside. You yelped, now humping a bit more frantic. You could tell you were nearing your peak already, though it felt much different than when you normally do, alone and in the darkness of your bedroom.
It was more intense. Your body trembled and your eyes kept fluttering shut as the waves of pleasure amplified. “M-Max, I-”
“I know, baby, let it out,” His voice grunted out, hands tightly guiding you back and forth on his lap, getting you closer and closer, until all you could feel was static electricity, all over your skin, on Max, inside of you…
He brought a hand back up to your jaw, holding your face up to meet your gaze. “Cum for me.” His eyes pierced yours and you felt yourself let go, hips stilling for a moment then twitching uncontrollably. You cried out as your eyes rolled back into your head, immediately feeling overstimulated all over your body.
“Good girl,” He cooed in your ear, his body stilling under yours. “You did so good, baby.” Your body continued to twitch slightly, still coming down from the most intense high you’ve ever felt. “So beautiful, all soft and sweet like this. I’d pay–no I’d kill to see you break down like that again.”
You whimpered at his words, his voice still having a strong effect on you and your body. “Mm baby, I bet I could get one more out of you, what d’ya think? Can you cum one more time for me, like a good girl?” You looked into his eyes, seeing his hunger for you, it was carnal, lecherous.
You wanted to say not yet, you needed time to recover, to fully come down. But his eyes, they bore into you, taking over every thought of denial your mind came up with. Ignoring your oversensitive clit and tired hips, your fuzzy head nodded.
Max patted his right thigh, “Up here,” You straddled his thigh and a shiver shook through your body at the feeling of the strong mass under your panties. “Look at me. I want you to keep your eyes on me, okay?”
You nodded, once again. He grasped your hip with both hands and began to pull you back and forth on his thigh. He kept it slow at first, only beginning to slowly speed up once he noticed your sensitivity wasn't as high anymore. “Touch yourself,” He ordered.
Your hands moved immediately, both gravitating towards your breasts again, this time you slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders. You gasped at the feeling of your own fingers pulling at your hardened nipples. You twisted and pulled until they were too sensitive to the touch, and resorted to simply groping your own tits.
“So fuckin’ beautiful…” His praise hit your ears and sent shocks down your body, right to your slick pussy. You were dripping, thong completely soaked and ruined, as were Max’s pants. Your hips found their rhythm again, wanting to chase that peak he had you nearing again.
Back and forth, and back and forth. You even added in a small circling to create a different feeling than before. The closer you got, the more your sensitivity intensified. It was twice as strong as your previous high, and you didn’t know it you would be able to take it. Max could tell, he could see the way you were beginning to doubt yourself, a nervous look written on your face. “Don’t think about it baby, just let it happen. You’ve got it, doing so fuckin’ good.”
“Max, I don’t know–” Your gaze began to fall from his, but he grabbed your face, not as gently as before. “No, you’re gonna cum for me. Right now, you’re gonna cum like the good girl that you are, and you’re gonna fuckin’ love it.”
“Ohhh, my…” Your voice trailed off into a high-pitched wail, your second orgasm hitting you, causing your body to completely lock up for a few quick moments. You watched Max’s face as you came, he had a proud look on his face, and you felt it within yourself as well.
You slumped in his lap, unable to hold yourself up at all. He rubbed your back and tucked your face into his neck. “You did so well for me baby, m’proud of you.” Strong butterflies pounded in your chest, his praiseful words aiding your harsh come-down.
The longer you laid there, the more you realized how exhausted you were. Your head felt heavy again, eyes low, nearly closed with drowsiness. Your body was tired and sore, in several different places. You didn’t focus on the pain though. Max’s hands on your back and head, rubbing in rhythmic circles, had you falling deep into a peaceful slumber.
A/N: that was so hot to write omg. it took longer than expected but i'm still proud i got it out:) max was a little difficult bc i don't know his character super well (i've only seen the film once) but it was still fun playing around with it. please like and reblog (and leave plenty of comments) if u enjoy reading this. feel free to send requests/suggestions!! <333 (follow @sageispunklibrary + turn on notifs for updates)
i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.
#kinktober#fawktober2023#max phillips#max phillips x reader#max phillips smut#bloodsucking bastards#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#smut#dark fic#supernatural#my writing#max phillips x you#max phillips fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#max phillips fic#max phillips x f!reader#sageispunk
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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! 🖤🩸
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the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself
rating: 18+
pairing: max phillips x f!reader
word count: 5309
summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.
warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder
a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.
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Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour.
There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.
Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round.
And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known.
Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity.
To your complete and utter annoyance.
You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?
One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it.
“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying.
Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”
Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”
She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.
“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”
“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth.
“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”
“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.”
Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.
Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.
“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?”
“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”
Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”
“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”
Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.”
Trish smacked him over the back of the head.
“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”
“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks.
Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious.
“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”
Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”
“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely.
“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”
“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”
“To Ned!” Ken yelled.
“To Ned!”
Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye.
“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?”
Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”
At this, everyone groaned.
“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.
“Here, here!”
Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick.
“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”
“Is that right?”
Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat.
“That’s right.”
“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”
“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”
“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”
Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo.
Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap.
You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour.
Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –
What was that?
You stand up right on the third to last step, listening.
In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you.
And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.
God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.
You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement.
At least, the only person you can see.
You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing.
One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –
The stairs creaked.
The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”
As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.
Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all.
“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”
Okay, that was definitely breathing.
Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze.
Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here!
The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –
The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?
Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –
“Fucking let me in!”
The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way.
Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –
No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –
The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –
Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap.
It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –
“Got you.”
That voice.
That condescending, snide, bratty, little –
You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint.
Caravaggio, eat your heart out.
“Max, what the fuck was that?”
He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”
You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.
“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I what?”
“You scared –,”
That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall.
His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple.
Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.
“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”
“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”
His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth.
“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.”
“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise.
In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder.
Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.
And he knows exactly what that does to you.
You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.
“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier.
You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth.
Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt.
You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.
“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”
“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”
“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose.
“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?”
You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.”
Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,”
You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits.
The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around.
He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down.
“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat.
“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”
Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.
“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”
You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt.
“Please, Max, just –,”
“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .”
He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you.
The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation.
“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.”
It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear.
“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”
With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this.
This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.
“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”
You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily.
“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,”
Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you.
Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.
Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning.
Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.
“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”
“Can you handle it if I touch you?”
You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.”
“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.”
“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
“You scared I’m gonna?”
“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs.
“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”
Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –
He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:
“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.”
His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours.
His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office.
This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be.
Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable.
He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin.
It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that.
He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.
He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks.
“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.”
“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.”
“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”
He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.”
“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours.
It is dangerous, your feelings for him.
He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes.
“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”
He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door.
His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.
You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water.
You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches.
Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords.
And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term.
Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.
He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.
You open the bathroom door and return to the world.
#max phillips#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#bloodsucking bastards#max phillips smut#pedro pascal character#pedro pascal characters
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Red Right Hand
Summary: You and Max have dinner and then you get freaky. It’s almost too much for poor little Maxxie to handle.
Pairing: Sub!Max Phillips x Vampire!Dom!f!reader
Warnings/content: Pure porn, pwp, Blood drinking (they’re both vampires), minor character death (your victim lol), murder… obviously. sub!Max, Dom!reader, unprotected PiV (they’re vampires, you are not), uhhh blasphemy probably, face riding, cum eating, Max’s vamp face, oral m! and f!receiving, overstimulation m!receiving, multiple male orgasms, refractory period nonexistent due to vampire fuckery, ass play m!receiving, praise kink, use of pet names/titles (Mistress for reader/ baby boy, pet, Maxxie, and one surprise for Max), aftercare, no use of y/n. Lemme know if I missed anything! WC: ~2k
A/N: I read this post about male overstimulation and fucking loved it. So then I decided I Bite Back needed a sequel (but this can be a standalone). Reader is a vampire just like Max. More notes on their dynamic at the end. Thanks to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, @atinylittlepain, @beskarandblasters and @theywhowriteandknowthings for betaing for me <3 Also for another pathetic sub!Max and a big inspiration of mine, check out @butchmandalorian’s A Little Lipstick Never Hurts (now featuring Dieter).
Smut below the cut
Crimson coats your lips, your chin, runs down your neck and in between your breasts. You fall back onto the bed, your victim’s blood rushing through your veins and lighting up nerve endings as it goes. You’re half drunk on the pretty thing… she was so sweet.
You reach up with one arm, slide your fingers into your lover’s hair and tug gently. Max drags his mouth away from your victim’s jugular with a questioning whine. “She’s empty, pet. C’mere,” you slur.
“I wasn’t finished,” he grumbles.
“Max. Now.”
Max reluctantly lets go of the girl, and she crumples to the floor in a heap. He crawls onto the foot of the bed and kneels between your legs. As his face smooths out and his fangs recede, you notice a gorgeous flush in his cheeks and down his bare chest. He’s not nearly as messy an eater as you, but his plush pink lips are tinged red with your dinner. He looks down at you with hunger in his dark eyes, a different kind of appetite taking over now that you’ve both had your fill. “Kiss me, Maxxie.”
Max settles over you on hands and knees, dropping his mouth to your sternum and dragging an open mouthed kiss all the way up to your neck. You let out a near delirious moan and wrap the short strands of his hair around your fingers. He slips his tongue along your jawline, licking up the mess you made, before finally melding his mouth with yours.
You hook a leg behind Max’s knee, using the leverage and your grip on his hair to flip him underneath you and he yelps. You settle on his thighs and wrap your fingers loosely around his cock. “Want me to ride you, pet?” He nods enthusiastically. “Hands by your sides.”
You spit in your palm and slick up his cock, dragging your palm up and down him slowly and barely giving him any pressure at all. Just as it looks like he’s going to beg, you slide forward, dragging your pussy lips along the length of him and trapping him against his stomach. You keep up the tease until he breaks.
“Fucking please, Mistress,” he bucks his hips and whines. “Let me feel you.”
“Only because you beg so pretty for me, Maxxie.” You lift up on your knees and notch him at your entrance. You groan low and long and as you sink down on his impressive length. You let your head fall back between your shoulder blades and dig your hands into the meat of his thighs. He’s so deep inside you at this angle, hitting spots that white out your vision. You bounce on his cock, grinding your clit against the neat curls at the base on every downstroke.
Max’s hands slide up your thighs and settle on your waist. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, you don’t reprimand him. Not even when he starts meeting every bounce with his own sharp thrust. “Max, fuck!” You feel your core tightening, you’re so close. You bring a hand to your clit, rubbing circles in time with Max’s thrusts.
That ever tightening coil in your core snaps with mind blowing ferocity. Your whole body tightens up and you scream Max’s name as he fucks you through it. You slump forward, burying your face in the crook of his neck. You feel a little more wet between your thighs than you would expect.
“Maxxie baby?” You let it drip with false sweetness. There’s a pause, long enough you don’t even need to ask what happened. You do anyway. You sit up, grabbing his jaw and forcing his gorgeous brown eyes to meet yours. “Did you come?” He has the decency to look ashamed.
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispers hoarsely, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You will be,” you growl into his ear. You give his face a quick pat and sit up, letting his softening cock slip out of you. Your legs are still a little shaky as you crawl up his torso until you’re hovering over his face. “Clean up your mess, Maxi Pad,” you command, voice coated in condescension
His mouth falls open, tongue out, and you drop your hips, letting your clit settle against his curved nose. His tongue is heavenly, but the noises he makes into your dripping cunt are sinful. His tongue dips inside you over and over again, lapping up your combined release like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. “G-Good boy, Maxxie, fuck,” you stutter as he groans into your pussy.
The vibrations of his deep voice against you, his nose grinding into your hypersensitive clit, and his tongue lapping at you have you on the edge of coming again. Max can feel your walls tightening around his tongue and he burrows his face impossibly deeper into your cunt in response. He wraps his hands around your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel like you’re being consumed by holy fire, burned up from the inside out. You come with an incoherent cry, grinding down on Max’s face so hard it has to hurt a little. Good thing vampires don’t need to breathe.
You finally slump to his side, giving your legs a rest. You consider stopping, the both of you sated and Max properly punished for his mishap. But then a little whimper slips from your pet’s lips and you notice his cock is hard and leaking against his stomach again. “Maxxie? Did you touch yourself?” He couldn’t have, his hands were on your thighs.
“No, Mistress,” his voice is breathy and his hands twitch by his sides. He clearly wants more. You push yourself off the mattress and settle between his legs. You form a plan, a way to have him whimpering and begging for you in a way he never has before. You take him in your hand and kiss the tip of his cock.
“Now, Maxxie, you can come whenever you’re ready, okay? Don’t have to ask.” He looks a little confused but also grateful.
“Thank you, Mistress.”
You suck him down in one go, relaxing your throat. Max groans, low and gravelly, fisting the sheets in his big hands. You allow him to thrust into your mouth once, before grabbing his hips and forcing him down into the mattress. You bob your head up and down at a steady rhythm, swirling your tongue around his tip on every upstroke.
When his legs begin to shake, you gently hold his balls, rolling and tugging them lightly. You can tell he’s close. His chest is heaving despite the fact he doesn’t need air (habit, you guess), and his head is tipped back into the pillows, exposing the long thick column of his throat. You slip one finger behind his sack, pressing into the sensitive spot you know will push him over the edge. He shouts your name so loud it’s nearly a scream and comes down your throat, hips still attempting to thrust deeper into your mouth. When his cock softens, you hollow your cheeks and pull off him with a pop, drawing out another pathetic whimper.
“Do you feel good Maxxie boy?”
“Yes, Mistress. Thank you.” He’s being so good you almost feel bad about your plan. Almost.
“Get hard again.”
“What?” He looks horrified.
“You heard me, Max,” you say sternly, sitting up on your knees so you tower over him. “Don’t make me ask again.”
“But it’ll hurt!” he whines. “Let me make you feel good again, Mistress. Please.” God, he’s pitiful… you can make him worse though.
“You know what would make me feel good, pet? If you did what you were told instead of being a brat.” He pouts and you slap his inner thigh, hard enough to sting.
He flinches and whines, but you see his spent cock twitch. He can play like he doesn’t like it, but you both know he does. His brow furrows and he closes his eyes in concentration. You watch his cock fill, untouched, as he focuses on sending blood to it.
“Good boy, Maxxie.” You bend over and kiss his still pouty lips. You replace your lips with two of your fingers. “Suck.” He eagerly pulls your fingers into his mouth, sucking them down to the knuckle and laving your digits with his tongue.
You pull your fingers from his mouth, patting his pretty cheeks with them. “Good boy.” You get back between his legs and wrap your dry hand around his cock, using your left over and mostly dried saliva as lube. You place your wet fingers against his hole and feel him jolt away from you before he settles and pushes his ass toward you instead. All at once, you push your fingers into him and drag your hand up his length, twisting your wrist at the top. He howls and you watch his face morph, smooth olive skin turning red and wrinkled. His mouth opens wide and you watch his fangs descend, little growls leaving his throat. You think both his faces are beautiful, but he knows better than to change when you’re in charge.
You let your fangs descend and snarl at him, pressing down on his prostate at the same time. His growl tapers into a whine as his face returns to its human form. You retract your fangs and take his tip in your mouth, pumping your fingers in and out of him. He grabs the sheets and pulls so hard you hear the threads ripping. His beautiful broad chest is again heaving with the effort of dragging in unnecessary breaths.
“Mistress pleeeeease. Stop. Please. Fuck. Please, stop. I can’t take it,” his voice is high and whiny, rambling and begging and pleading with you. But he doesn’t say the safeword (crucifix) so you don’t intend to stop. Max bucks his hips into you, forcing him further down your throat. He quickly pulls back, trying to escape your mouth, only to push himself farther down on your fingers. You don’t think he knows if he’s trying to get away from the sensations or if he’s chasing them, but he obviously doesn’t want you to stop.
His eyes roll back into his head and he lets out a strangled moan. “Fuck!! Mistress please, can I come, please please.” He’s writing and tugging on the sheets so much they’ve come off the bed. You sit back on your heels, relieving him from the overstimulation of his cock, but press your fingers against his sensitive spot again. You see tears in the corners of those pretty, lust blown eyes, and know you achieved your goal.
“Come for me, baby boy” You don’t even have to touch him again. He explodes all over his cute little belly, scrunching his eyes closed and moaning low and long. You work his prostate through it, then remove your fingers from him. You let him be for a moment, not moving away, but not touching him either.
“You did so good for me, baby boy,” you praise him. “Can I clean you up now?” He nods slowly, still riding the high from his intense orgasm. You lick his cum off his stomach, drying the rest with a blanket, and lay on the bed on your side facing him.
“Come here, Maxxie,” you whisper gently. He sort of flops over to face you and you pull him fully against you and cradle his head against you. “Good boy, Maxxie. You looked so pretty whining and begging for me. Do you feel good?” He nods sleepily into your chest. “Good,” you whisper. You press kisses to the top of his head and run your fingers through his hair as he falls asleep. Your mattress is exposed where he ripped the sheets off and there’s a dead body on the floor, but you really could not care less right now.
You’ll worry about cleanup tomorrow.
–----
Endnotes: my headcanon for why she doesn’t let him “vamp out,” as I call it, is that they are in reality very equally matched strength/power wise, but this dynamic is obviously dependent on an imbalance of power, so she wants him to appear human when she doms him. I also think he turned her when he was doing a corporate takeover and she went from human secretary he harassed to vamp secretary he fucked. Then she got tired of his attitude and decided to put him in his place.
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Thanks for reading <3
#Max Phillips#Max Phillips fics#Max Phillips fanfiction#Max Phillips x reader#Max Phillips x you#Bloodsucking Bastards#bloodsucking bastards fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro fics#pedro pascal character fanfiction#pedrostories
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blood makes noise
rating: E for explicit! 18+
pairing: max phillips x f!reader
word count: 2386
summary: you are being very nice to your vampire boyfriend on your day off, so you are rightfully annoyed when ted interrupts your time together.
warnings: cockwarming, light dom/sub, blow jobs, semi-public sex, mentions of blood, no use of y/n, no beta we die like the marketing department
a/n: this is entirely @ravensmadreads 's fault. She did this. Title comes from the Suzanne Vega's song of the same name.
🤍AO3 Link
🤍Masterlist
“Baby girl, wake up.”
A soft thumb strokes the arch of your cheek and your eyes flutter open, your head turning on his thigh. Your hips are just beginning to ache from the position and you adjust on your knees.
“Gently, baby, gently, that’s right.”
You sigh, your jaw going loose again, the smell of his heat, his cologne almost lulling you back to sleep. Max grins down at you from above on his leather chair, your head in his lap. “You were drooling.”
You make a sound of protest, lifting your head up from the wet spot on his dress pants, but he chuckles and wipes the bottom of your lip with his thumb.
“That’s alright. I like it when you drool around my cock.” More awake now, you suck once and he swallows, that smirk faltering for a moment. “But I slipped out a bit. Open up now, baby.”
You nod, jaw easing open, tension releasing from the back of your throat, and his hips thrust forward just an inch more. Max groans, eyes fluttering. Your hand on his other knee tightens. “Mhmm, that’s good. You’re so good. Just a bit longer. It’s almost noon and we’ll go home after that, alright?”
You nod slowly staring up at him from under your eyelashes, with your jaw as slack as it can go with the weight of his cock pulling your mouth open. The edges of your mouth had cracked, lips dry from the open air. With concern, Max gently turns your head up to see the small cuts better, careful to not move your jaw too much.
“We’ll get that fixed too,” he tsks. “I can’t believe you agreed to do this on your morning off.”
You hum with contentment – you had actually been the one to suggest this weeks ago – and press your tongue up against the length of his cock. Max huffs and the hand on your jaw moves to the back of your head. He had specifically requested you pull back your hair for this and he threads his fingers in the space between your hair tie and the back of your head.
“Can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you.” Gently, his fingers push you forward, his other hand on your shoulder. You hollow your cheeks out, ready to take even more of him. Max is nothing if not a workaholic and you lived for the moments when you got his undivided attention, when he was willing to blow off hours at a time just to eat you out. And he praised you the whole time he did it. “You’re such a good cockwarmer, baby, best I’ve ever had. I –,”
There comes a sharp rap on the other side of the desk, against Max’s office’s doorframe, and you freeze. Max’s fingers tighten on your shoulder, nails scraping your scalp.
“Howdy there, bud, you got a second to chat?”
It’s Ted, but it’s Max’s fault for leaving the goddamn door open for anyone to waltz in. And anyone did. You huff in annoyance up at Max who briefly glances down at you before sitting back in his seat. Had it been another employee (Evan), Max wouldn’t have hesitated to tell him to fuck off. But, unfortunately, there is a hierarchy.
Max’s shoulder jerks as he adjusts his tie, trying to wipe that blissed out look on his face. He sits up in his seat, pulling out of your mouth just slightly. But no, this is his fault. You dip your head to fill up your mouth, easing farther between his legs, even closer than where you were before. This close you can smell the musk of his groin, your throat tickling, and you muffle a moan by breathing slowly out of your nose. Max’s cock twitches.
“Ahh– sure, Ted, sure. But uh, lunch time is, ah, coming soon, so–,”
You flatten your tongue and lick as much of his velvet skin as you can reach without moving your head.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it! Just as long as you don’t turn me into lunch!” Ted laughs at his own terrible joke. Max literally says: “Ha, ha.”
“But, uh, before we get into it, would you mind closing the door?”
“Sure thing, buckaroo.”
You hear Ted’s big feet clomp back over and immediately Max’s hand latches onto the peak of your ponytail, pulling you back off him. He stares down at you with almost frantic eyes.
Stop it, he mouths at you. Wait.
But he’s grabbed your hair tie and you drop open your mouth, eyes never leaving his, letting your tongue flop out past your bottom lip. You tilt your head down, down towards his cock weeping precum, and pry open your mouth as wide as it will go. Max’s eyes go dark. His grip loosens. That’s all the confirmation you need.
You know he’s already sensitive after having his cock in your mouth all morning, so you only lick it gently, smearing his precum over your tongue. Max shudders, his hand easing up to the crown of your head. Just waiting, sitting. Ready to pull at a moment’s notice.
“Everything okey dokey there?”
On the other side of the desk, you hear the chair squeak and Ted’s ratty loafers come into view under the gap. Your superior’s feet are inches from your own. You adjust as quietly as you can, sitting your knees more firmly under you and you rub your hands on the inside of Max’s knees.
“Yep. Okey dokey,” Max grits out. “Hunger pains.”
“Well, I’ll make this quick . . .” Which is physically impossible for Ted. He’s the kind of guy who wraps up a fifteen minute rant with “so, long story, short.”
For once, you weren’t bothered by this.
As Ted bathers on, you inch Max’s cock deeper into your mouth, your precum-soaked tongue flexing against the bottom like a heartbeat. Over the hours, his cock had gone half-soft between your cheeks, but now it flushes hard. You feel it swell and lengthen the further you take him. You reach his pelvis again, and opening your lips, you inhale. His short hairs fluttered. And then you breathe out, hot and humid. Above you, Max hides a moan by acting like he’s cracking his jaw. He tugs on your hair, not a warning, but an encouragement. Keep going.
Max got off on this as much as you did.
The freak he is, with this suggestion, you knew you’d tease the exhibitionist in him who got painfully hard at the idea of voyeurism. Semi-public sex was like catnip to him. And watching him squirm made you drip.
You draw your hands from his knees, towards his inner thighs, as you drag your tongue against him as you tease him on the way out. All the way out. You come off with a quiet pop, that Max covers with a cough. You go back down, giving his tip the attention it deserves with a wet, slick swirl – Max’s nostrils flare, you were right he is extra sensitive – and you mold your mouth around him again, hollowing out your cheeks as you began to dip up and down, up and down. Back and forth. Back and forth.
If vampires could sweat, Max would be drenched. His thighs tense beneath your hands as you blow him, that familiar spark settling at the crux of your legs. His lips are pulled between his mouth, frowning behind his fist, nodding, as though considering whatever Ted was rambling on about. You take him to the back of your throat and swallow.
His whole body tenses, a mix between a groan and a gasp flying out of his throat, hips jutting forward and he hits the back of your throat again unintentionally. Your eyes water but god you want to moan, so you dig your nails into his thighs to let him know.
“You alright there, chief?” Ted asks behind you.
“Mhmm hmm.” You’re surprised Ted doesn’t say anything about his white-knuckled fist over his mouth. The hand on the top of your head pulls your hair and your scalp tingles pleasantly.
You rub your thighs together. Now you were teasing yourself. He throbs in your mouth and you eagerly lap up the precum dribbling onto your tongue. You grind the heel of your hand against your clit, desperate to lower the heat humming between your legs. You need him to know that it’s time to wrap things up.
His cock red and straining in front of you, you lick your palm and, with a smear of precum threading through your fingertips, you press your thumb up against the vein on the underside of his cock. You suck his tip.
His fist slams down on the table, cutting Ted off mid-ramble.
“Ted,” Max rasps out. He clears his throat. “Ted, I love this idea. Definitely a direction to take next quarter. But I’m on a s-schedule here and I’ve got meetings a-after lunch, so if you wouldn’t mind . . .”
“Sure, sure, Max! Glad to hear we’re in agreement! We’ll talk later.”
“Sounds great.” He sounds wrecked. Ted’s feet disappear from the gap under the desk and he lumbers off. You pout up at Max, cheek on his thigh and you jerk him faster. Max’s jaw is cracking. He’s shallowly trusting against your hand, his fingers a knotted fist in your hair, and he hasn’t looked down at you in five minutes.
“Just s-shut the door on your way out,” Max groans – he can’t help it.
The second the door sniks shut, Max’s seat jerks back, his wet cock slipping from your grasp, and his hand pinches your cheeks.
“Open your fucking mouth,” he snarls, his irises pitch black. You open as wide as you can go, tongue cupping forward to receive whatever he’s going to give you. With his other hand, he slaps the tip of his cock against your tongue. “Lick it.”
You do and his entire body quakes, a low grunt punching through his chest. You don’t dare move as his hand furiously strokes himself. The ache in your clit is almost painful and you whine, loudly.
“Cocksleeve wants to tease me, huh? Wants to make me lose it in front of my boss?” His hips buck wildly, his tip driving up and down your tongue. Your heartbeat is uncontrollable. You actually drool watching him fuck his fist and you spread your legs, just a bit, but enough. You know he can smell you. His face is flushed, only slightly less red than his cock. He growls from somewhere deep in his chest. “Cocksleeve gets off on this, doesn’t she? The second we get home, I’m gonna fuck your brains out. You’re gonna lose your fucking mind.”
You whine, from the ache and anticipation.
“I’m gonna come in your mouth now. I want you to swallow all of it. Take all of it.”
You’re halfway nodding when his hips thrust his cock into your mouth, all the way to the back of your throat. You swear he bumps the back and comes directly down your throat and you gag, but you take it. Tears streaming out of the corner of your eyes, your torso between his thighs, you swallow and swallow and watch as Max goes boneless, squeezing the last of his spend, before slumping back in his chair and out of your mouth.
There’s a gummy string of spit and cum from your lips as he pulls away. He’s gasping out of reflex, not a real need to breathe.
“J-Jesus Christ.” He closes his eyes,the sight of your mouth so thoroughly fucked making him twitch painfully, and moves his chair back to give yoau room to climb out. You wipe your mouth on his thigh and go to move but you realize your feet have gone numb.
It’s a sight, to watch him lose himself entirely, so that he reverts to his unconscious human impulses. To watch him devolve to his most basic primal state.
“Ma-a-ax–,” the back of your throat is gooey and you struggle with his name. He rubs his chest with his knuckles before leaning forward and helping you up. Your knees almost immediately give out and you stumble into his lap. He chuckles as he pulls you in tighter, still breathless, and buries his face in the curve of your shoulder.
“Fuck, I thought I was gonna come right in front of him.” His breath is warm, humid. It makes your already sensitive skin tingle. You know your orgasm wasn’t going to be easily earned – you were teasing after all – but you knew it was going to be good. You card through his hair, the ends near his scalp damp.
“I kind of wanted you to,” you hum softly. “Would make your upcoming performance review very interesting.”
Something red catches your eye over his shoulder. “Max, your hand–,”
Chuckling, he lets you bring his hand up to your chest for a better look. The meat of his hand just behind his thumb has two small puncture marks, the blood drying. You brush the wound with your thumb as the skin closes before your eyes. His other hand cups the back of your neck in a way that makes your hair stand on end. He snickers as his lips tickle your ear.
“You made me bite myself, baby. Fuckin’ fangs came out when you did that thing with your tongue. Couldn’t help myself.” A shiver slides down from the top of your spine to the heat between your legs.
With precision, you kiss his hand, the blood smears the last trace of any wound.
He leans back and takes your chin between his thumb and the curve of his finger. His eyes are warm, pleased, but already they edge towards that hungry blackness. Vampire stamina really was a wonderful thing.
“No more talking about Ted. Only have half an hour left in my lunch break . . .” He tugs you into his mouth and you inhale, his scent a balm and a crank that ratchets your desire up higher. His thumb pets your jaw as he breaks the kiss. “Besides, I think I made a promise or two there. Something about fucking your brains out.”
His hands are already going up your skirt.
“Sounds like you’re on the clock then, sir.”
#max phillips#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#bloodsucking bastards#max phillips smut#pedro pascal character
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For the Bangathon - I spun the wheel and got Reverse Cowgirl, the obvious choice is Jack Daniels/ Agent Whiskey, but I think Max Phillips could be fun too. Up to you!
You know, I love an obvious choice...and then throwing caution to the wind and going for the underdog. Let's play with Max!
Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader
Position: Reverse Cowgirl
Word Count: 816
Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral sex (m receiving), allusions to sexual acts, cum play, tiny bit of ass play, PiV sex, subby bratty Max, FEELINGS because it's too much fun to watch max bluescreen.
Notes: Let's put this asshole with a heart of gold through it!
Normally Max loves it when a girl lays him down and rides him reverse. Cock buried deep, doesn’t have to make loving faces at her, ass on display and his own orgasm easy to chase? It’s a dream.
But not with you.
After weeks of playful quips and insults tossed back and forth at the swanky bar you both frequent, Max finally convinced you to come home with him. The triumph of winning was quickly dashed when you pushed him to his knees, fisting his hair as you guided him to eat your pussy under your skirt. Much as he’d hate to admit it, he was ready to burst in his Armani slacks from your firm grip, the praise you dripped across his broad shoulders, and the surge of pride at your release gushing on his tongue.
And he should have been furious when you smoothed your skirt back down, gave him a toe-curling kiss, and walked right back out the door. He really should have. But when it took less than two strokes to cum pressed up against his door he knew there was something special between you.
So it continued, this battle of wills. He’d find you in the bar, make entertaining conversation (which is surprisingly fun, sex or not), and then you’d battle for who gets to cum that night. The thrill made him harden at your silhouette, his stamina shot when he gets to slide into your mouth or pussy. The way your eyes sparkle when he cums too quickly, and the smile that follows when he hisses for a second round, all haunt him when you’re not around.
So tonight he spins you into his arms before you even enter the bar, kissing you breathless against the side of the building. The pounding of your heart is loud in his ears, licking along the length of your neck.
“I think we deserve a better night than we’ve been allowing ourselves,” Max posits in your ear, nosing along your cheek as you fake hum in contemplation.
“What did you have in mind, Max Two Minutes?” you tease back, the frustrating nickname making him nip at your jaw.
“Stay the night. Let me show you all the tricks you never stick around long enough to see.” He hopes the offer doesn’t sound as desperate as it feels.
“Ready to reveal all your secrets?” you say, pulling back enough for Max to see the agreement in your eyes.
“Only the best ones.”
He finally proves his stamina, bringing you to orgasm three times before finally cumming on your tits. Then he gets to brag about his refractory period, hard in your hand quickly enough for an impressed eyebrow raise. And that’s only the first hour.
Now, slick with sweat and release and the heady aroma of sex, you’re riding him the way he likes. He cups the globes of your ass, kneading at them to see his cock disappearing into your tight cunt. The curve of your spine is graceful, hands on your knees to support your rolling pace. It’s perfect, exactly what he wants.
But he can’t find the edge of his orgasm.
He tries planting his feet and power bottoming, letting his mouth run wild, even running a thumb over your tight asshole, but nothing is mounting his arousal. Has he fucked himself too dry in an attempt to impress? Does he really not have another in him?
But then he shifts, and the curve of your cheek comes into focus. There, he realizes. In between all of the fucking and competing and biting remarks, he hadn’t realized what actually happened.
He’s into her.
It hits him like a goddamn freight train. He wants her smile, her teasing tongue, the mirth in her eyes. Her body gets him hard and begging, he’s not gonna argue that, but he wants so much more than her sensual sway above him.
“Baby, look at me,” he asks, eliciting a chuckle from you. His whole chest constricts, but he says oh so quietly, “please.”
Your body stills, and slowly, like you’re waiting for a cruel joke, you turn to look at him. The moment your eyes connect he watches the trepidation melt into amazement. Your lower lip drops, eyes soft as Max lets a little smile bloom on his face.
He guides you onto the bed, kneeling between your thighs as he leans in to kiss you. There’s no winner anymore; it’s full and languid as he slides back inside, your arms coming up around his neck. He drops to his elbows, hips rolling with liquid motion. Even when the thrusts become more purposeful, licking into your mouth and circling your clit, he’s still looking at you like something amazing and precious. It matches your own expression, a feedback loop of holy shit, there you are that surprises you both.
So Max’s favorite position used to be reverse cowgirl. But with you? It’s missionary for as long and as often as you’ll let him. Unless you’re both feeling a little fresh that night. In that case, all bets are off. Anything can happen, and that’s exactly how Max likes it.
END
LJ’s Bangathon 2023
#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips x you#max phillips x reader#max phillips x f!reader#bloodsucking bastards fanfiction
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Sink in (Max Phillips)
Summary: Your job changed overnight with the arrival of your new boss, Max, as he was blurring every line with you, and your once tolerable co-workers have turned into living nightmares. But a chance meeting in Max's office reveals everything about the true nature of your job.
A/N: Hi lovelies! I hope everyone is having a great holiday season and a great new month overall 💙 This was originally slated for Halloween, but I just finished it yesterday, whoops. Anyway, this is a new venture for me as I have never written for Max before, but I figured why not? So enjoy this and drink lots of water 💚
Pairing: Max Phillips x !f reader
Warnings: (uhm...don't call me out) Just blatant filth. Breeding, vampire biting, squirting, oral (m kinda and f receiving), voyeurism, unprotected sex (safe sex is great sex), spanking, fingering, heavy creampie, mentions of male masturbation, female masturbation.
Word Count: 7k
Masterlist
You were walking to your car, thankful for your lunch break as all your coworkers within the past week had turned from tolerable to unbearable. Andrew, who you could usually ignore, was itching to be at your throat over the smallest issues. Your boss, Ted, was strangely happy about the change in his employees, although you couldn’t figure out why. Tim and Evan were trying to convince you to leave your job as Max’s secretary as they were convinced something was wrong, but they couldn’t prove anything, so you dismissed it. The most perplexing of it all was Max, your new boss, who took a special interest in you that you were finding hard to ignore or even dislike.
Max was charismatic, to say the least. Sure, he was hard to figure out, so you never knew if his nature with you was professional or blurring the lines of attraction, but it made your job less mundane. Max kept you on your toes, and from the way he looked at you, you wondered if there could be more with your boss if you did move to a different sector. But based on the rumors swirling around in the legal department, you would rather work under Ted as the legal department would’ve brought you more boredom than before.
You stepped out of the door and saw Frank at his regular post.
“Going on your break?” Frank asked.
“Yeah. I need it since everyone’s so weird up there.” You answered.
“Well between you and me, I believe Evan and Tim.” Frank whispered, and you were unsure about why he was whispering when no one was around.
“I would too, but they haven’t proven anything.” You responded, and Frank looked at you as if you were a goner.
“Suit yourself. But I’m prepared for anything.” Frank tapped his chest, and from then on, you knew to never cross him, literally and figuratively.
You faked a smile for good measure. “I’m sure you are. See you in a bit.”
“See ya.”
You shook your head and walked off, convinced that even with Frank still acting the same, there were still a few screws that were loose in his head. Still, you weren’t able to shake the feeling of your entire company turning into a group of paranoid psychos. But to take your mind off things, You checked the clock and saw you had 25 minutes to eat, figured out if you wanted to leave and never come back, and possibly relieve yourself as the moments before you walked out the door left you questioning your self-control.
-
You walked into the elevator and hit the basement level and the close doors button to get down as fast as possible. But a pair of hands slid between the doors as they were about to close.
“You didn’t think you would get away from me that easily now?” Max asked with that familiar mischievous smirk on his face.
“I wasn’t trying to, sir.” You answered, holding your bag a little tighter for your sanity.
“What did I tell you about using sir? I’m your boss, but I’m not Ted.” Max reminded you, and somehow, you knew that calling him Max would blur the already murky lines between you two. But calling him sir riled him up, and you liked seeing him like that.
“So I should call you Max then?” You asked, and you noticed how Max raked his eyes up and down on you.
“Yeah. It rolls off your tongue better.”
Oh. Suggestive words in an elevator that made it harder to ignore him? Amusing, really.
“S-Max.” You corrected yourself.
“Atta girl.” Max clicked his tongue, and you were thankful he replaced good with atta, or else you would’ve turned into a puddle.
To save yourself, you changed subjects. “Where are you headed off to?”
“I gotta get something from my car. You’re off to lunch?” He pointed to your big bag.
“Yep. I need it since I’ve been working since I got in at 8 and it’s 12 now.”
“You’re the best worker we have, even without being turned.” Max complimented you, but you couldn’t make out the last part.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. But you got a little something on your shirt.” Max pointed to your chest.
“Oh, where is it?” You tried to look down, but his hand was already on you.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get it for you.” Max flicked off a chip crumb that was on you, but then he moved up to your collarbone, flicking something else off as well. His fingers were dangerously close to your neck, and you realized he could grab your neck right now if he inched up any higher.
“D-did you get it?” You interrupted, and when you looked into Max's eyes, you thought you saw a twinge of red before it reverted to its normal color.
Max cleared his throat. “Yeah, it was just a little something that wasn’t in one spot.”
“Well, thank you.” You were relieved that the heat you felt on your face wasn’t as visible as the elevator had dim lighting. And speaking of the elevator, it dinged finally for the ground level for you to leave unscathed.
“Anytime. And is that a new perfume you put on today?” Max asked as he walked out with you.
“Yeah. But you know my old perfume?” You were perplexed, wondering why he would notice such a minor detail.
“Mhm. I always smell it on you when you walk in and I enjoy it every time. But I like this new one too..” He answered before taking a left, leaving you stunned and slightly aroused.
-
You tried to keep yourself composed while you ate your food, with somehow the savory flavors of your comfort meal not doing enough to keep your mind off Max. Did he have to say he enjoyed your perfume? Did he have to touch you in that way, even letting his thumb ghost your skin? Most of all, did he have to eye fuck you at every moment possible? A boss like Max was a dream come true and a curse because he was forbidden fruit. Everything you wanted, your mind told you no. But your desires, oh, they loved to toe the line of professionalism and uncontrollable impulses. Look, but don’t touch. Touch, but don’t taste. Taste, and now you’ll be unable to draw the line again.
Unfortunately, it was easier said than done. Now, you resorted to finishing your lunch quickly and setting everything off to the side so you could slide your seat back for your daily venture into your deepest fantasies of Max. What you didn’t anticipate, however, was Max walking near your car as he took the opposite direction to go back into the building. He saw you were in your car, and he moved quickly, hiding behind the pole so that you couldn’t see him, but he could definitely see a glimpse of your body. No one else was near except you two, and you were blissfully unaware of his presence as he stayed out of eyesight. You unbuttoned your shirt, giving yourself some breathing room since you knew it would get hot and heavy in your car. Your bra would have to stay on this time, but it didn’t keep you from pulling your breasts out, letting them fall out of your shirt. Next, you pulled up your skirt and slid your panties off, thankful that this was one of the days you opted for skirts so it would be easier to access. Max couldn’t see as much as he wanted to of your face, but he could definitely hear the moans from inside your car once your fingers slipped in between your glistening folds.
Barely through with your shift, you were going through another pair of panties, but that didn’t stop you from teasing yourself. It was important to build up your orgasm long before you chased it so you could replay the day’s events one by one until you were coming undone from everything all at once. That was why every soft pinch and grip on your nipple, every swipe of your index finger on your clit, and every pump of your fingers inside your hole was worth teasing yourself for because you thought of him. It was impossible not to fantasize about him finally teasing your breasts as you caught him staring at them one too many times during ‘important’ conversations about work. It was inevitable to dream about his skillful tongue that he used for flirting would be equally useful in licking up and down your slit, gathering every drop of your elixir. Hell, you were going right down that dangerous path of imagining what his plump lips would feel like kissing both your vertical and horizontal lips, plus that little bud that laid right in between your vertical ones that would be a treat to feel him suck on. And the two you saved for last, even with them being the best, was his pulsing tip pushing right up on your clit and tapping it, and finally, feeling soul-snatching strokes right after to make you undoubtedly his.
That was why time went fast for you as you were knuckle deep in your pussy, feeling how wet you were and letting those wet sounds, along with your moans fill the car up. But for Max? Oh, he was in for the show of a lifetime as he felt his cock stretch his boxers and press prominently against his trousers. It was taking everything in him not to knock on your door, get inside, and fuck you right in the backseat. For one, he could smell it from a mile away that you were still a virgin. Perhaps it shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did, but knowing that you were the last one unturned, that he saved for last, and you were a virgin, it was the icing on the cake for him. But he didn’t want to interrupt you. He found watching you without you knowing to be erotic beyond his imagination. A voyeur enjoying his prospect’s desires and seeing how hard and fast you were going, all with the thought of him on your mind, was an ego boost along with an insatiable appetite that would culminate within the day. In his mind, he was begging you to cum all over his cock. In your mind, you were wishing he was telling you to cum for him.
It was a chant that rang through both of your heads, with your walls tightening up and his one thread of self-control threatening to snap if this went on a minute longer. But neither of you had to wait much longer once you let go. Your seats that were evident of your arousal were drenched more as you half moaned, half screamed accidentally as you wanted to keep it down. But Max enjoyed everything about it. He wanted to take you there and higher as soon as possible, but he had to wait for the right time. It was hard not to cum in his boxers at how hard you came, but he was sure the precum clung to his boxers from the whole time he stood there watching you.
Once he saw you were cleaning up, he disappeared quickly so you wouldn’t see him. You cleaned up your mess and got dressed again, seeing you had five minutes to spare, which would put you in the nick of time to return to your cubicle. But while you cleaned up your seats, you wondered what would happen if Max did approach you. Would you accept? Deny? It was hard to say, given that your job would be at risk, but this torment of getting off in your car was hard to keep up with. Alas, you shrugged it off as it would never happen given that he could have anyone he wanted, giving you a false sense of reality once you were decently presentable for work again and could resume your duties. On the other hand, Max had other things in mind for you once the end of the day came around.
-
You looked at the clock and saw it was 10 minutes, close to 7, with your coworkers upstairs for an HR meeting. However, Max asked you to stay behind and finish some work. Just as you were done, Max opened his door.
“Hey, do you mind coming in for a second?” Max asked.
“I’ll come in. I’m also done with the work now.” You got out of your chair and pulled down your skirt, noticing that Max was watching your every move.
“See, this is why you’re my top girl.” Max winked at you, making you avert your eyes as he looked damn good with his suit jacket off and his shirt undone. You walked in as he held the door for you, and when he followed, his hand ghosted the small of your back, which made your hair stand up. He closed the door behind him as you walked to his desk.
Max clasped his hands below his stomach. “Do you know why you’re here?”
I know what I would love to be in here for.
“To go over my work?” You asked.
Max tsked as he walked over to you. “I know you’re a little naïve, but that pretty head of yours can give me a better answer than that.”
There were a few thoughts rearing to the front of your head, but you wouldn’t dare utter them. “Well, what else could it be?”
“I can give you a few ideas,” Max took his hand into yours, rubbing his thumb over your skin as he looked into your eyes. “You’re a very hard worker, you’re at my beck and call whenever I please, and there’s something else about you that I can smell on you.”
“My perfume?” You tried, and Max shook his head.
“No. Something else that is a little harder to smell.”
For a moment, you were too distracted by how he licked his lips to understand what he was saying.
“What would that be then?”
“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Max went straight for it, and it caught you off guard.
You cocked your head to the side, unaware that the small move left him twitching in his pants. “That’s a bit personal to ask, don’t you think?”
Sure, draw the line of professionalism when you already made a mistake coming into his office with no one else around.
“It is, but you liked it.” Max saw right through you, given that it was hard to ignore the way your thighs closed together against him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You feigned confusion, but there was no use.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about?” Max continued, baiting you into his trap.
“Not at all.”
“Okay, I’ll spell it out for you.”
Max took his other hand and parted your thighs without much effort, showing that he had a lot more strength than you anticipated. His fingers danced along your skin, making you breathe deeply as you felt him getting closer to your core while never breaking eye contact. But Max was surprised when his fingers reached up, and he felt nothing but your soft, bare skin that covered the slick that had been growing since you returned to your desk.
“Commando at work? Seems you took my relaxed work outfit memo a little bit further than I thought.” He joked, and if you weren’t in this position, you would’ve laughed. “But just so you know, I know that you’ve been getting off to me in your car.”
“I haven’t been-“ You tried to lie, but Max slapped your folds.
“Don’t lie to me. I saw you in your car fingering yourself, your shirt undone and those pretty breasts of yours on display. I knew exactly what you were doing, and you can’t deny it because I watched every second until you came.”
Fuck, I’m caught. But why does it feel so good to be caught?
You were intrigued, embarrassed, and aroused all at once. “Then why didn’t you come and knock my car?”
“Didn’t want to ruin the show. Besides, hearing you moan my name thinking that no one could hear was invigorating.” Max answered as he pressed further in between your folds, now feeling how wet you were from the ordeal.
“Sir,” You tried to take a step back, but he knelt down before you, letting go of your hand to push your skirt all the way up past your ass.
“Oh? We’re back to formalities now? Because I think with my fingers in between these pretty lips of yours, you won’t be able to lie anymore.”
His fingers were pressed up against your hole, slick coating the tips, and his face was inching forward to your clit, making it an unforgettable sight that you couldn’t say no and move away from. It would feel wrong to deny yourself what you desired, which is why you jutted your hips up to his lips to take slight control. Max laughed at your eagerness, relishing how you were giving in to him.
“Should’ve known you wanted to fuck my face,” Max muttered before moving in, and his fingers slipped deliciously inside you. His fingers were bigger than yours, which proved to be a deeper stretch than you were anticipating, but that slight pain melted away once you rolled your hips on his nose, using his face to get what you needed. Your hands went up to unbutton and discard your shirt, leaving you in nothing but your riled-up skirt and the heels you wore that accentuated your legs. The icy air in his office left your nipples rock hard, but it was a forgotten feeling as his hand reached up to your hip to slow your movements so he could kiss and suck on your clit.
“Max, fuck you’re so good at this,” You praised, feeling him swirl his tongue around your clit and alternate to sucking, making your toes curl. Max fingered you harder than you did in the car, and you didn’t mind it at all. It was hot, feeling him toy with your body as he gave and took control over you at different moments, making you a pool of desire. Your sweet sounds filled up his office as your leg went over his shoulder and your ass was further on the desk.
Max lifted up his head to look at you. “Look at how your body speaks to me. You couldn’t help yourself for a minute longer if I didn’t start.”
“I need you, Max. I can’t help it anymore.” The truth flowed out of you recklessly. Admitting that you were unable to control yourself around him was slightly embarrassing, but the look he gave you was undeniably hot and commanding.
“I can’t help myself either. Your pretty little pussy is delicious and I’m gonna ruin every inch of you on this desk. So lay back, and I’ll make you wish you did this sooner.” Max commanded, and you obliged, laying back with your ass off the table.
Max went back down quickly, his speed increasing more than you ever did to yourself. It was intense as he ate you out as if you were his last meal, the only meal he wanted to have if his life depended on it. His tongue drew shapes and letters on your clit that you couldn’t make out, but Max was marking you completely. There were shapes of hearts, triangles, circles, and stars that he alternated from to make you feel like you were floating on air. Max spelled submit, mine, mía, and forever, all because he wanted you desperately. To have you at his will, submitting to his ministrations, making you his, and soon, for all of eternity, seemed to be the gift that kept on giving to him, and he would continue to take it if it meant it was always with you. Max was everything you could’ve imagined and more, and despite your strong will from before telling you to stop, it was long gone as all you could do now was grip his desk and keep your hand over your mouth to keep the noise down.
But your attempts to conceal your moans were futile as your orgasm was near. It was building in every fiber of your body, its power unwavering as it was more than you had ever experienced before. It was confusing, but Max knew exactly what he was trying to do to you. If there was one fantasy he had of you that never left his mind each time he stroked underneath his desk, it was making you squirt all over his face. Max would cum hard each time he imagined you squirting, with his face coated in your desire and drinking it all up. There were many ruined shirts at the thought of burying his face into your pussy, ignoring everything else in the world so he could be laser-focused on your moans and making you cum endlessly, as it got him off more than anything. Oh, that man would edge himself to the very end over wishing that he could hold you down and taste what was his. Gripping you like a vice in his mind and gripping his tip in reality, Max would mumble your name each time he spilled while hoping you would spill on his face one day. And now that this day was here, he was doing everything in his power to bring you to that peak he yearned for.
You lifted your hand for a moment. “M-Max, please don’t stop it feels so good!”
That was all Max needed to hear as he gave you everything, curling his fingers to pulse on your spot, beckoning you to let go all over. He sucked and swirled his tongue on your clit, never letting up as he wanted, no, needed to be drenched by you. And while it was hard to keep his fangs from coming out, as his desire for you often brought out his other side, he was determined to let you enjoy every second of this before he marked you permanently.
“Max, I’m gonna cum!” You whimpered out before the electrifying feeling took over completely.
Your thighs were clamped around Max’s head as you squirted all over him, and he nearly came in his pants. He pulled his fingers out of you to hold you up better as you were slipping, but he still licked up every drop and all on your slit to gently coax you into giving him more. You felt relieved, euphoric, and most of all, pleased above all your expectations as you made a mess on his face. It was endless, with the hairs on along your body standing tall and your hips rolling into Max’s face to use him for more. Max never wanted it to end, and there was only one thought that was on his mind;
Use my fucking face until I can make you cum again.
But, faintly, you could hear the elevator ding, which startled you out of your blissful high. You moved your legs, and Max got back up on his feet. You were frantic, not realizing that your extra time with Max exceeded the time for the HR meeting. Time was now of the essence as you pulled your skirt back down and fixed your shirt.
“I have to hide. Someone is on this floor and I can’t be seen like this.” You said.
“You can hide under my desk.” Max fixed his shirt and grabbed his suit jacket from the chair.
You went around, seeing a spot underneath where no one would see you. “Are you sure I’m going to fit?”
“I’m sure you will. But you didn’t have to stop.” Max answered as he walked over to his chair.
You were confused, knowing that there was definitely an unspoken rule about not hooking up with your boss that you broke. “I did have to stop. What if someone sees us and that costs us our job?”
“Look, I don’t care who walks in and sees, baby. Let them see me in between your legs and let them see you bent over on this desk taking every inch of me.” Max pulled his chair out for you to get under.
“Max, what if it’s Ted?” You asked as you heard a knock on the door.
“I don’t care if it’s Ted. I want you, and I’m not letting him stop that. Are you going to let him?” Max questioned.
“No.”
“That’s my good girl. Now get on your fucking knees for me.” Max commanded.
His eyes were burning red, and you felt every compulsion to get underneath his desk, which was high enough for you to fit. Max slid in with his chair just enough to not box you in and kept his legs open for you once Ted walked in.
“Max! There’s my best worker.” Ted greeted as he closed the door behind him.
“How’s it going Ted? Was the HR meeting good?” Max asked as you took it upon yourself to unzip his pants.
“It’s going well. Sales are through the roof, and everyone at the HR meeting was keen on making sure our numbers stay that way.”
Even without seeing Ted, you knew that man had his mega-watt smile on his face that he only had when a big sale was made. But for Max, you could see that he was stifling a groan once you pulled his cock out of his pants. By looking at his cock, you realized why he was strained. It was thicker than you imagined. Pre-cum painted around his tip, his veins prominent, and a curve that you knew would hook inside you more than your fingers did.
What did I get myself into?
“I’m glad that you’re getting what you want. What do you think the numbers will be at the end of the quarter?” The strain was evident in his tone, making you hide a giggle before you kissed the tip.
“These numbers will be the highest ever! I’ll- I mean we’ll be richer than ever!” Ted exclaimed, and you were sure Max wanted to do something similar based on how his thighs tightened once you sucked his tip gently.
“That’s all I want for us. Big numbers lead to big checks, and we get to expand and ensure that the train keeps going.”
Max’s hand snaked up your head, pushing you to take more of him despite the risks. The stretch in your mouth tugged at your lips, and the stretch in your dripping pussy would be worthwhile. With how he felt in your mouth, you were confident that his width was much more desirable than length, and thankfully, he had both.
“But I have a question for you. Where’s your secretary?” Ted asked, and you pulled Max’s cock out of your mouth.
“Oh. She went home early for the day. Got sick with something she ate but she got all her work done.” Max lied.
“Well that’s good to hear. She was the only one that was missed at the HR meeting so I wanted to check in with you.”
“Yeah. I’ll have her watch the recording of it when she comes in tomorrow. But is that all?” Max tapped his desk with one hand, and he moved his other hand away from your head.
“No. I was going to ask if you turned everyone, but you already answered that with letting her go home early.”
In that second, you realized that Tim and Evan were right. What was more of a problem was that now you were trying to fight the urge to hit Max while Ted was still in the room.
“Listen, I’m gonna get around to it.” Max reassured, but Ted’s sigh indicated that it was a futile attempt.
“I know she’s an efficient worker but sooner or later she’s going to find out.”
“Ted, I’ve got it under control.” Max was stern, and you never heard him speak like that until now.
“If you say so, but if you don’t do it, I will.” Ted threatened as he turned on his heel.
“Don’t touch her.” Max warned, and Ted laughed in response.
“And what are you going to do about it? You work for me, not the other way around.” Ted corrected.
“But you need me more than I need you, and if I say to leave her alone, you don’t touch her. Or else would your wife like to hear about you sleeping with your secretary?” Max countered, and you covered your mouth in shock.
“N-no.”
“That’s what I thought. Now are we done?” Max was livid, and if there was another word said than what he wanted to hear, he would blow a fuse.
“Yes. I’ll leave you be.”
Ted walked out fast and closed the door behind him, and you didn’t explode until you heard the elevator doors open and close to be sure that it was just the two of you again on the floor. Max zipped his pants up and moved out of the way for you. You climbed out angry, jetting for the door, but he grabbed your wrist.
“Don’t leave. I’ll explain everything.” Max pleaded, but all it earned was a slap in the face.
“Max, you’re a fucking vampire! I don’t need to hear anymore to figure that out.” You exclaimed, and Max sighed.
“Yes, I’m a vampire. But I was never going to turn you the way I did the others.” Max explained, and that earned a cold laugh from you.
“Oh, that’s so comforting, really.”
Max pinched the skin in between his brows. “I was going to tell you before I did it.”
“So I was supposed to just let you tell me with your fangs out and take two seconds to process that you’re a vampire and that I’m going to be one too?” You asked sarcastically.
“You’re clearly angry with me. Do you want to slap me again?” Max offered, and that threw you off.
“You’re offering me a slap?” You were bewildered, but you had to expect that from Max as everything he did was borderline unorthodox, and now you understood why that was.
“It seemed to work the first time. Besides, they don’t hurt anyways.” Max responded, and it was time for you to see red. You slapped him harder than the last time, and you saw that his eyes flashed red, but they went away quickly.
“I knew that would work. And now I have two questions for you.”
You huffed, knowing that there was always a trick up his sleeve. “Do I have a choice in answering them?”
“You know the answer to that. Anyways, did you ever have a suspicion of me being a vampire? Or did someone tell you that I’m a vampire?” Max asked.
“That’s two questions right there.” You pointed it out, and Max rolled his eyes.
“Answer the fucking question.” He demanded.
“No. I didn’t have a clue.” You lied, and you soon realized your mistake once his eyes turned crimson red, seeing right through you.
His grip on your wrist tightened. “I’m going to ask you again, and don’t lie because you’re a terrible liar. Did you ever have a suspicion?”
“Yes.” You answered truthfully, and his eyes turned back to normal.
“Good girl. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Max praised, and you were sure that while he was a vampire, there were a few screws loose in his head based on his demeanor.
“How did you know I was lying?” You asked.
“Well, you are a terrible liar and I can also read your mind so that helps me.” Max smiled as he answered, and you sighed.
“Should’ve known you had powers.” You muttered, and Max smiled at your frustration.
“Comes with the job. Now, second question: does it turn you on that I’m a vampire?” Max continued with his eyes turning red, and you felt your cheeks burn.
While you were livid moments before, there was something in seeing Max with glowing red eyes that made being angry with him a lost cause. It was hot, and you didn’t have it in you to lie to him now.
“Yes, it does turn me on.” You admitted, and Max’s smile turned into a smirk.
“I figured because I can smell that sweet desire on you. Also, I let go of your wrist and you didn’t notice.”
You looked down and noticed that his grip was gone. But still, you felt a different grip that begged you to stay, and you couldn’t bring yourself to leave as you had planned before.
“I guess the questions took up all my focus.”
“Or you want to stay so I fuck you against the wall.” Max suggested.
You were confused. “I didn’t say that just now.”
“You didn’t. But you thought about it while you were working earlier.” Max clarified.
You shook your head. “And just how many times have you used these powers on me without my knowledge?”
“Since I met you,” Max grabbed your hand. “I know every desire, every orgasm, every dirty thought you had about me, and I’ve enjoyed all of them.”
“W-well, why did you wait until now?” You stuttered as your feet had a mind of their own and walked with Max to the wall.
“I wanted to toy with you. Every flirtation, praise, and touch that I gave you, it was because of how proud I was of you, but also from noticing what they did to you. I enjoyed every time you clenched your thighs, the times you got off in your car and the moments you would remember the previous night when you got off to what I did. It all allowed me to build up our tension until it was impossible to ignore so I could bring you right here.” Max pushed you against the wall with your hand behind your back. It was exactly what you fantasized about earlier, and it showed his incredible attention to detail would be the death of you.
“Baby, please.” You begged, giving in to him as he pulled up your skirt again.
You heard him unzip his pants and let them fall to the ground. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“But you know it already.” You whined as Max’s cock reached your folds, pushing in between them to slide up and down your slit. From there, you could feel how big and hard he was, with his tip constantly brushing up on your clit, which made you rock your hips to match his speed.
Max slid his hand in between your hands to grab his cock, tapping it against your clit with every word he spoke. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Please fuck me against the wall. I need it, baby.” You pleaded, and soon, his tip was lined up at your hole.
Max placed his lips near your ear lobe, kissing it. “That’s my good girl.”
Max entered you slowly, thankfully not letting his desire get the best of him. He was slow, methodical in gauging your pain, slowing up if you were uncomfortable. He kissed your ear, neck, and jaw as he entered, giving you a distraction as he bottomed out inside you. You tried to relax, allowing yourself time to adjust to his sheer size and breathing through it.
“You’re doing great, baby. I promise.” Max praised as he pulled out, leaving just the tip to relieve you. You felt empty when he pulled out, and he pushed back in to fill you up again. It was sensual, with him thrusting slowly in and out, holding you close as he wanted to appreciate every inch of you. The feather-like kisses that adored your shoulder, neck, ear, and jaw were like fire on your skin, setting you aglow as you never wanted to forget what his lips felt like on you.
Max grabbed a handful of your ass before smacking it, making you gasp. “Your body is perfect. I don’t know how I waited this long to have you.”
“I don’t know how I waited either,” You responded, and soon you pushed back with your hips to match his thrusts as your discomfort transformed into pleasure.
“Fuck, you’re so needy for me. You want more of me, don’t you?” Max thrusted faster, finally giving in to what he had been fighting.
“Max, I want everything. Please, give me everything.”
Permission. That was all Max wanted from you when he called you into his office. Permission to ravish you just as you both had dreamed of and that was what set him off. In an instant, he thrusted faster, pushing you further into the wall to make you arch your back. His curve hooked more inside you, stretching you and getting closer to brushing up on your g-spot. Every vein rubbed against your velvety slick walls deliciously, making this sin of sleeping with a vampire worth every second of it. There was power behind every thrust, wanting to bottom out each time so your walls could hug every inch of him.
You were utterly drunk off of him, becoming a loud whimpering mess that everyone could hear if they were on your floor. You didn’t try to cover your mouth or close it. You wanted Max to listen to what this was doing to you, and once you used your spare hand to spread your ass cheek, it pleased him.
“Look at you, spreading yourself wide for me to take every part of you. You’re such a pretty girl for me,” Max commented, making you clench around him. “Fuck, mami. You do that again and I’m gonna cum inside you.”
I really want him to cum inside me. Fuck, I want him to breed me, actually.
“Oh, you really want that.” Max noted, and you nodded frantically.
“Fuck, I do!”
“Can’t help it, can you? Laid out on my desk and squirting, sucking me underneath the desk to tease me, getting fucked against the wall, and now you want me to breed you. The pretty secretary getting fucked by her boss and begging to get filled up. Should’ve known you’re not as innocent as you look.” Max laid it out and showed how much you broke your rules for him, but you didn’t care. All it did was bring you closer to cumming to where your legs began to shake.
“Baby, I-I’m gonna cum again!” You cried out, and Max began to let his fangs grow in.
“That’s it, baby. Cum all over my cock for me, please.”
You immediately shut your eyes, letting go as you coated him and your inner thighs again. You took every thrust he gave you to fuck you through it, and the praise that he gave you was muffled due to your mind going blank. It was too good to think, and once he stalled his thrusts and you felt warm, thick ropes paint your walls, you knew that he was a goner as well. Max transformed as he came, giving you every drop so that you would be forever marked as his, but there was one last thing he had to do to seal it.
You felt his lips against your neck, a light kiss that made you tilt your neck more to the side, giving him access. But then, you felt his fangs sink into your skin, the pain making you yelp as it stung, and you could feel him twitch inside you more from turning you. But it was hard to get mad at while he was pumping you full of his cum. Bred, turned, and marked by your boss. What more could you want based on your fantasies from earlier?
When he was close to finishing his mark on you, you felt drained initially, with your orgasm departing and your body momentarily falling limp. But that all changed in a split second when your eyes shot open, and you took a deep breath as your body changed from head to toe. Your energy rose, your strength increased, your entire being changed from that of a mortal and into an all-powerful entity. It was electrifying, and you only came down from that high when he pulled his teeth and cock out of you.
“You taste and feel wonderful.” Max complimented you as he turned you around.
“Thank you. Was that your plan all along?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“More or less,” He drifted off, looking at your amber-yellow eyes with satisfaction. “How do you feel?”
“Different. I feel strangely more alive even though I’m now considered the living dead.” You joked.
“You’ll be fine. It becomes normal after a while, and then you’ll wonder why you had to wait so long to change.”
You cocked your head to the side. “So you don’t miss mortal life?”
“What’s there to miss? I have a simple diet now, plenty of energy, and I have powers. There’s nothing special about being human when you get all of this from one bite.” He elaborated, and you loved seeing how passionate he was about his new lifestyle.
“Well when you put it that way, I can see why you wanted to turn everyone here.”
“Well turning people I’m not turned on by isn’t exactly fun,” Max joked, cupping your cheek. “But turning you was very exciting.” He finished, rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone.
“It was. Makes me wanna do it again.” You admitted bashfully.
“Who said I was stopping now? I’ve only just begun with you,” Max leaned into you, his lips ghosting yours.
“Then give me all of it, forever.” You whispered, and the kiss that followed left you weak at the knees and your heart soaring for eternity.
#lanawrites#pedro pascal#pedropascal#max phillips#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips fanfiction#max philips smut#max phillips imagine#vampire#vampire turning#bloodsucking bastards#pedro pascal character fanfic#halloween#kinktober
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An appreciation for the “small” fic writers - part 2
I made a post asking for your favorite small creators (including self recs you guy sent in and some of my favorites too!) and compiled a list of some "small" creators (about 1,000 followers or less). Part one hit the mention limit so here is part two! The banner is by the lovely @theywhowriteandknowthings 🩷
Smaller Pedro Pascal writers listed in alphabetical order order along with what Pedro boys they write for! 🩷 (RPF about Pedro is not included)
@alwaysdjarin - Din, Frankie & Dave
@boliv-jenta - Din, Javi P, Frankie, Max, Ezra, The Thief, Dave, Pero, Marcus P, Marcus M, Javi G, Dieter, Maxwell, Joel, Whiskey, Nico, Gio, Oberyn & Silva
@chronically-ghosted - Javi P, Dieter, Max & Marcus P
@concussed-to-pieces - Din, Whiskey & Ezra
@diaispunk - Joel
@djarins-cyare - Din
@djarinmuse - Din & Joel
@frickatives - Din
@grogusmum - Javi P, Dieter, Pero, Javi G, Oberyn, Ezra, Frankie & Din
@insomniamamma - Ezra, Din, Frankie, Nico, Joel & Marcus P
@jokersfangirl84 - Frankie
@jomiddlemarch - Joel
@linzels-blog - Frankie
@maggiemayhemnj - Ezra
@millersdjarin - Din & Joel
@munsonownsmyass - Joel & Marcus P
@northernbluess - Marcus P, Joel, Frankie, Din & Ezra
@party-hearses - Joel
@popcornforone - Dave, Javi G, Din, Oberyn, Tim, Frankie, Marcus P, Max, Mr. Ben, Joel, Maxwell, Frankie, Dieter, Nico, The Thief & Silva
@the-blind-assassin-12 - Marcus P, Whiskey, Joel, Din, Dieter, Frankie, Javi P & Ezra
@tinytinymenace - Frankie
@trulybetty - Joel, Frankie, Dieter & Marcus P
@wordywarriorwrites - Joel, Frankie & Javi P
#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfiction#dieter bravo fanfiction#ezra prospect fanfiction#din djarin fanfiction#frankie morales fanfiction#agent whiskey fanfiction#marcus pike fanfiction#max phillips fanfiction#tim rockford fanfiction#oberyn martell fanfiction
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Immortally Human {Max Phillips x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 10.3k
Warnings: Vampirism, suggestive banter, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, mentions of child planning, hypnotizing, sacrifice, witch's protective spells, violence, throat ripping, staking, gore
Comments: When Max falls in love you, a human, he must get permission from his sire to tell you about his true nature. When he tells you, he must turn you or kill you and you don't want to be a vampire. Leaving Max to protect you at the cost of his own immortality.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.
|| MasterList || Max Phillips Masterlist ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
“Babe! Are you ready?” Max calls over his shoulder from his spot on your sofa. He knows you are running behind, but the reservations are hard to reschedule and he pulled a few favors to make sure he got a table tonight. He has a very important question to ask you. “I’m coming, almost done!” You yell back breathlessly, making him grin as he checks his watch. If you had told him six months ago that Max Phillips would be in a committed, monogamous relationship, he would have called you an idiot. Laughed in your face right before he went about doing whatever he wanted. But that was before he had invited you out for a drink and fallen head over heels. Most who know him would call him egotistical. A frat-boy douche has been thrown his way several times when he’s smoozed his way into a promotion or stolen an important client. Business was what mattered and he was good at it. Leaving his private life a series of hook ups and perpetual bachelorhood until you had flipped his world upside down.
Max was faithful. He was trying to be kind and thoughtful. Loving. Bringing you lunch or taking you out to dinner. Even sitting through movies he had zero interest in. Not because he was looking forward to getting laid after - although the sex is mindblowing - but because it makes you happy. Even though you don’t live together, he’s positively domesticated and is ready to take the next step with you.
When you come out into the living room, Max whistles. “Daaaaaaamn baby. Look at you. Looking fucking delicious.” He stands up and reaches for you, pulling you up against him to inhale your scent. He hears your blood pulsing beneath your skin and his mouth waters but he pushes that aside. Your relationship is perfect…except for one thing: you don’t know he’s a vampire. He hasn’t had the guts to tell you. Scared that you’ll reject him or be terrified of him and he only wants to see love in your eyes, not fear. He will tell you. He has to tell you. Max murmurs your name and you slap his chest playfully when he asks if you have to go to dinner.
“Yes. It took forever getting ready and we need to eat. You can devour me later.” You say and Max waggles his eyebrows, “is that a promise?” You snort and slap his chest again but he catches your hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. “Come on baby, let’s go eat.” He says and lets go of you so you can get your purse.
Hustling you out to his car, Max races around it and slides behind the wheel. “Hang on, baby.” He tells you with a smirk. “Gotta rush to get there.” He prefers to drive fast, in complete control of his reflexes, but you always seem to worry when he’s zooming through the streets. “We don’t want to miss our reservation.”
You grip the handle on the door and squeeze as Max rounds a corner too fast. “We aren’t indestructible. I don’t care if we are late, I just want us to make it.” You wince as the tires squeal as he accelerates and Max snorts, wanting to tell you he’s indestructible apart from wooden stakes to the heart.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll be fine.” He promises and reaches for your hand that isn’t gripping the handle.
You snort in disbelief beside him and Max takes his foot off the gas for a split second, allowing the speed to go down by a few miles per hour. He still can’t tell you why he’s so confident, but soon he will. “I know you’ve been looking at the menu. Tell me what you want to order, baby.” He knows talking will keep your mind off his driving.
You snort again, amused that he knows you look up the menu beforehand and already know what you will order. You squeeze his hand, "I was thinking about getting the duck. It's not something you see on a lot of menus. I want something different. Then they have this Death by Chocolate cake that is to die for, according to the reviews." You say, and Max smirks slightly at your choice of dessert.
“Then that’s what my girl will have.” He hums as he turns a corner sharply and wheels protest again. He’s only a mile from the restaurant and the reservation is in five minutes. It means he will pull up to the valet in time to escort you inside and be seated. “And we have to have a bottle of good wine to go with it.”
“I’m gonna need a drink after your driving, Phillips.” You chuckle breathlessly as he screeches to a stop at the valet booth. “Thank God we made it in one piece.” You exhale shakily as the valet opens the door for you. Max is there in a blink of an eye to take your hand and you are always so amazed at how quickly he moves and you take his hand to let him guide you into the restaurant.
Max winks at the valet and slips him a fifty. “Take care of it.” He asks as he guides towards the door. “Was there any doubt that I would take care of you, baby?” He sends you a pout and a grin that somehow doesn’t look ridiculous on him when combined. Leaping forward so he can open the door for you to enter the building and biting his lip as your ass shakes in front of him. At the host stand, he gives his name. “Phillips, party of two for seven o’clock.”
His commanding presence has always turned you on and to see him like this has you eager for him already. You are escorted to your table where Max holds the chair out for you and you sit down. “This place is gorgeous. You didn’t have to spurge like this, baby.” You say with a slight tut, knowing Max likes to spoil you but you never ask for it.
“Of course I did.” He winks at you and sends you a small air kiss. It might look smarmy to some, but he adores you. “Tonight is special. And there’s nothing like spoiling my girl.”
You wonder if you've forgotten an anniversary or something but you've been with Max for just over a year now and every day he seems to spoil you despite your requests that he saves money - you are happy to sit down at home with take out and watch a movie. You reach for his hand after he sits down, "you're too good to me. I'll have to make it up to you." You smirk, stretching your leg to nudge his ankle.
“Hmmmm, I know you will.” His own smirk is knowing, loving how uninhibited you are and how you just want him. Not anything else. You are addicted to him and he doesn’t have to do anything more than what he does now. The waiter comes up and Max looks over at you. “What kind of wine do you want, baby?”
“Mmm I think red.” You say, having decided on the duck before even sitting at the table. Max takes the wine list and scans it, selecting a Cabernet and you squeeze his hand. “Excellent choice sir.” The waitress says and says he will be back to take your order. “What are you going to order?” You ask him, “do you want to get an appetizer? I think I just want to have the entree.”
“No, no appetizer.” Max decides, sending you a suggestive smirk. “I want to save room for dessert.” Waggling his brows suggestively, he knows he will have your thighs spread wide and his tongue buried in your cunt tonight. “I’m going to just have a steak, rare.” He decides, barely even looking at the menu, too busy staring at your beautiful face.
You fluster at the way he stares at you. Still unnerved by the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world for him. “That’s what you always get. And you never eat it. I swear…you always make me take it home for lunch.” You shake your head, concerned about him paying for a steak and never eating it. Before Max can explain, the waiter comes back with the bottle of red and opens it, allowing Max to taste before pouring your glass. He takes your orders and leaves you and Max to enjoy your drink.
“To us.” Max offers, holding up his glass as a toast. “To our future together and tonight is the beginning of happily ever after.” He offers, giving you a sincere smile as he waits for you to react to that.
Your heart flutters at his words and you clink your glass against his. "To us." You practically sigh with contentment. Part of you wonders if Max is going to propose tonight and that makes your stomach twist with happy anticipation.
Taking a small sip of the wine, he makes a noise of appreciation and sets it down. Much preferring to watch you until he can capture your hand again. “I love you, baby.” He starts softly. “I’ve never felt this way, about anyone, but you - you’ve completely changed me. I can’t imagine my life without you.”
"Max." You gasp softly at his speech. He's a very physical lover, cocky with his words but never emotional. This is rare for him to say and you are shocked but happy. He loves you and you are so in love with him, all of him. You look down at your joined hands, "Max. I- I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine."
“I want to ask you something serious.” His brow furrows slightly and he squeezes your hand. “I want you to go away with me, meet my family.” He’s never mentioned you meeting anyone in his family and while it’s not exactly a proposal, this is serious for him. “Would you come with me to Romania?”
You’re surprised again. A little disappointed if you’re honest. You thought he was gonna propose. You soon gather yourself, replacing your slight frown with a smile as you tilt your head. “Your family? I- I thought you said your parents are dead.” You frown again and Max nods, “yes, but I have an uncle. I want you to meet him. See where I’m from.” You bite your lip and think for a second, seeing the desire in his eyes and how can you resist? You nod, squeezing his hand. “Of course I will. I’d love to meet your uncle and see your homeland.”
He can tell that you are disappointed that he didn’t pull out a ring and propose to you. Knowing that you are unaware that he has to get permission from his uncle - his sire - to marry you, and to tell you that he’s a vampire. “I love you baby. I promise that you won’t regret it.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours. “He’s going to love you.”
****
It’s cold when you land in Romania and you are escorted to the black car waiting for you outside of the airport. “How the hell did you deal with the cold when you live in L.A?” You ask Max when the car is moving along to your hotel. You’re nervous to meet Max’s uncle. You haven’t heard much about him other than Max wouldn’t be who he is today without his uncle.
“Jackets.” He jokes with a grin, although he really isn’t affected by the cold like you are. It’s one of the perks of being a vampire. “You need me to keep you warm, baby?” He asks, scooting closer to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I can warm you up just as soon as we get to the hotel if you want.”
You giggle, turning your head to kiss his jaw. “I wouldn’t mind that. After all, this is our first vacation together. We might as well make the most of it.” You smirk and nudge your nose against his jaw. You and Max don’t live together. It’s been over a year of dating but you’ve never pushed it, knowing he might just want to do things traditionally and get engaged first. “When are we meeting your uncle?”
“Tomorrow.” Max knew that jet lag would affect you, so he had told Serge that he would bring you by tomorrow afternoon. He didn’t want you to be tired or less than your best when you meet the man who had turned him into a vampire when he was here in college. “That way you can get a good night’s sleep.”
You snort, “a good night’s sleep with you around? I doubt it, Phillips.” You nudge him and he squeezes your arm, “I want you to like each other so maybe best if you don’t look like you got your brains fucked out all night long, huh sweet cheeks?” He hums and you smirk, “you say that now but wait until you see what I brought with me to sleep in:”
Max groans, rolling his eyes at the thought of you in lingerie. You love wearing things that make him feral to touch you, although he’s never shown you how feral he could be. Carefully keeping that side of him contained, so he doesn’t hurt or scare you. “So you want me to fuck you all night, got it.” He smirks. “Besides, it’s gonna be on the floor in shreds within minutes of you showing me.”
“That’s why I brought more than one.” You smirk and kiss his jaw, making him growl softly under his breath.
****
“Max. This isn’t a hotel, it’s a goddamn castle.” You gasp as you enter the impressive abode, the drapery and stone imposing but warm as you step into the foyer followed by Max.
“Did I forget to mention that?” Max squints as he looks at you questioningly. Of course he wasn’t going to admit that it was a castle, he wanted to see your face as you experienced it for the first time and you didn’t disappoint him. “Sorry if it’s not romantic enough.” He pouts.
"Are you kidding me?" You chuckle humorlessly, walking over to him to wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down to press your lips against his. Your fingers running through his hair. "I love you Max. This is - it's incredible. Where on earth did you find this place?"
“It’s actually…” Max sends you an apologetic look, “not a hotel. This is my uncle’s house.” He explains. “But don’t worry.” He assures you. “I told the housekeeper we were going to keep to our room tonight. They will send up dinner and we can just crash…or…whatever.” He hums, waggling his brows again.
You are a little taken back that this is his uncle's place but you don't argue it, knowing that this place is incredible and Max likely didn't want to make you more nervous. "Uh, sure. That works babe." You nod, sliding your hands down his back. "Of course there's a housekeeper." You giggle, looking around the foyer in awe. His uncle must be important to have a home like this. "I think I'd like to try the 'whatever'." You tease, sliding your hands lower to squeeze his ass through his jeans.
“Yeah?” He leans in, growling playfully and he scrapes his teeth over your pulse. Never allowing himself to let his fangs descend, he tortures himself with the alluring scent of your blood. “Come on, baby,” he groans. “Let me show you where we’ll be staying.” His sire has already had his old rooms prepared and he knows that he won’t intrude on the two of you.
You let him guide you through the impressive hallways, walls lined with portraits, and you gasp when Max opens the large double doors. "Max. Wow. This is - wow." You look around at the large four-poster bed, the heavy velvet drapes. It looks like a vampire's lair and the thought makes you giggle. "What's so funny?" Max snorts after setting down your bags and you spin to face him. "Nothing. Just can't believe this is real. You are - I am so lucky to have you." You turn sappy, wanting him to know how much you appreciate him.
You slide your fingers through his hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and he slides his tongue into your mouth. You know you need to shower after the long plane ride so you pull back before it can get too hot and heavy. "I want to shower baby. Can you lift my case onto the table? I gotta find my toiletries."
“Of course, sweet cheeks.” He pulls back and gives you a little wink before rushing over to the bags. You don’t know about his vampiric strength, so it’s always fun to show off how strong he is. Lifting the heavy case easily and setting it on the table. “While you search for your toiletry bag, you want me to call down to the kitchen for anything? Something to drink? A snack?” Having a human lover means taking care of your needs, far more demanding than his own.
"Some water would be nice. A snack too. I don't know what your uncle likes or has. You know what I like so just pick something, okay?" You kiss his cheek, "thanks baby." You say as you rifle through your things for your toiletry bag and the bag containing your nightwear. You shower, glad to wash the hours of traveling from your skin, and after you dry off, you put the lacy little number you bought with Max's reaction in mind. You open the bathroom door and find Max sitting on the edge of the bed.
Checking his emails, Max looks up and freezes at the sight of you in the doorway. The lacy lingerie has his cock immediately hardening and he flips the phone out of his hand behind him, letting it land carelessly on the bed as he stands up. “Fuck, baby.” He growls. “You look good enough to eat.” He chuckles. “Fuck a snack, I want the whole damn meal.
You giggle at his hungry gaze and his hands find your hips, squeezing them, and you gasp at the strength in his grip. "Damn Max, you're gonna leave bruises." You warn him playfully and he has a guilty look in his eyes that you haven't seen before. "Hey. It's okay. I liked it." You promise, cupping his cheeks.
“Sorry baby.” He’s a little out of sorts, being here. The scent of vampires is concentrated, seeped into the stones and you don't even know. He’s feeling more possessive of you, and his more animalistic side is simmering just under the surface. “I’ll make it up to you.” He promises, guiding you back towards the bed. “By eating your pussy until you scream.”
"Now that's more like it, Phillips." You let him lay you down on the bed and you look up at him as he shrugs off his button-down and exposes his chest. He's not chiseled but he's built, a strength simmering beneath the skin that takes your breath away. He slides his hands along your legs, making you stare at him, chest heaving as arousal dampens your panties. "I love you." You sigh when he kisses your knee.
“I love you too.” He’s certain that he does and he wants to prove it to you. He wants to remind you of how good it is between you before you meet his sire. Starting to shift to his stomach, he kisses down your thigh, inhaling the scent of your wet pussy and the sweet blood in your veins with a loud, pleased groan.
You whimper when his mouth presses against your panties, mouthing at your clit through the lace, and it's enough to make a moan escape your lips. Loud and echoing off of the stone walls. "That's it, sweetheart. Lemme hear you." Max murmurs as he pulls your panties to the side and you watch as his dark eyes meet yours while he drags his tongue through your folds. "Shit." You pant, toes twitching as he dives in.
Max had been good at oral before, but it was always given selfishly. It was so the girl would suck his dick or brag to her girlfriends about how good he was. So he could possibly bang them later too. This is just because he wants to. Because he’s addicted to your taste and sounds. His tongue curling up inside you and then coming back out to flick over your clit as he devours you. Groaning into your cunt like a man starved, he could spend all night between your thighs just like this and be happy pulling orgasms from you.
You whimper as he happily eats you out like a man starved. You can never complain that Max isn’t a giver with the way he licks your cunt for hours. You reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair and he growls into your flesh. His fingers digging deep and you know he’s going to bruise you but you don’t care, too caught up in the feel of his tongue curling inside of you, his nose pressed against your clit. “Fuck, Max. So good. Always so good.” You praise him, “love this. Love you so much.”
Max loves when you praise him, soaking it up and it makes him work even harder to pull an orgasm out of you. His eyes are dark and lust blown as he watches you, just shy of turning yellow in his desire.
You see that dark look in his eyes that he gets a lot and you love it. The hunger there makes your stomach twist and pushes you closer to your orgasm. He pushes his tongue deeper, curling it inside of you and you fall over the edge. “Max!” You squeal, thighs squeezing his head as you cum, soaking his tongue and you throw your head back as your orgasm shakes your body.
Max growls, the sound vibrating into you and he eagerly drinks down every drop of your release that you will give him. Loving how completely undone you are because of him. You’ve told him how powerful the orgasms are and he gets drunk on the pleasure he gives you as he strokes you through the high with his tongue.
You reach down to run your fingers through his hair, a lazy smile on your face as you melt into the mattress. “Shit. I fucking love you, Phillips.” You sigh happily, licking your lips and you beckon him up to you by tugging on his hair. “Want you inside me.” You request softly.
Despite the fact that he is hard and aching, Max takes his time to kiss you. Pressing his lips to your gently and licking into your mouth when you open for him. Not minding your taste, you kiss him back eagerly as he starts to slowly cover your body with his own and slide his hands down to lift your legs up onto his hips. “I love you too, sweet cheeks.” He promises when he pulls back, looking into your eyes as he notches himself at your entrance and slowly starts to push inside you.
You moan his name as he pushes deep inside of you. "Shit Max, feels like you're in my guts." You groan in bliss as he nudges the back wall of your pussy. He is longer than any other lover you've had. You caress his back as he kisses along your neck, making you tilt your head until his lips are over your pulse. Unaware of the danger he poses as he scrapes his teeth over your skin. "Hmmm Max." You hum as he starts to move.
“You feel so good, baby.” He groans, pretending to pant because he doesn’t need to breathe. Sliding his arms underneath you, he pulls you closer as his hips start to rock fast and deep, making sure you feel every inch of his cock inside you . “Love you so much, you’re perfect for me.”
You know you’ve never felt like this about anyone. It’s gonna always be Max. He’s your forever and you don’t know how true that rings for him. Your hands caress his shoulders as you lift your thighs a little higher, allowing him to sink deeper inside of you. “Yes, baby. Oh shit. I’m gonna - you’re - I’m close.” You tell him, amazed at the ability he has to make you cum so fast.
“That’s it, pretty girl.” He groans, eyes rolling back at the way your cunt clenches down on him. “Cum for Max, show me how wet you get when I fuck you.” He leans down and presses his lips to yours again. “I love you. Cum for me.”
You moan into his mouth, unable to stop your orgasm from hitting you hard and your nails dig into his skin as you cum, toes curling against his ass as you clamp down on his cock with a moan.
He loves it. Moaning your name, he can’t help but fuck into you a little harder. Not too hard, he can’t hurt his little human, but enough that it enhances your orgasm and makes you squeal again. Max buries his head against your neck, hiding the way that his face starts to shift, feeling his own end starting to build. It only takes a few more pumps of his cock before he’s growling, pushing deep and filling you up with hot ropes of his useless seed.
You sigh as Max fills you up, loving the way he relaxes on top of you, and you kiss his hair as he grunts against your neck. “I love you Phillips. So much.” You murmur, caressing his back and you feel his muscles beneath the skin.
“I love you too.” He turns once his face has morphed back to normal and presses his lips to yours, making sure that he pants so you will believe that is out of breath. He slowly pulls out of you with a groan and nudges his nose against yours before he rolls off of you onto his back so you can cuddle against him. “Didn’t tear this set.” He muses as he slides his hand up and down your lingerie clad back. “Must be tired.” Turning, he kisses your forehead. “Do you want to soak in a bath baby, or take a nap?”
“Nap.” You murmur, shifting onto your side so you can look at him. “Definitely nap.” You close your eyes and you smile when Max kisses your shoulder as he leans over you. “Get some sleep.” He orders softly and you hum, knowing he will clean you up before he goes to sleep. He always falls asleep after you.
It never takes long for you to fall asleep after he’s fucked you. Watching you as your breathing starts to even out and before too long, you are asleep. It’s one of the reasons that you aren’t living together yet. You would notice that he never sleeps if you lived together. He could always pretend to have slept for the few nights you stayed over, but if you were constantly together, you would figure it out. You aren’t stupid. When he’s certain you won’t stir, he slowly shifts out from under you, moving towards the bathroom to get a washrag to clean you up. Smirking to himself when he sees the cum on the inside of your thighs and dripping out of you. While nothing could ever come of it, it makes him incredibly possessive to see it.
Max sighs as he lays down beside you, watching you sleep, and he wonders what you are dreaming about until he hears his name across the castle. He can hear his sire calling him from anywhere and he groans, shifting off of the bed to dress and make his way over to his “uncle’s” suite. “Max.” Serge greets Max when he opens the door. “It’s been a long time,”
“It has.” Max admits, knowing he has not been back for years but he doesn’t apologize for it. He had been busy making his way up the corporate ladder. “And this time you have brought a human.” Serge’s expression is amused and he watches his protegé carefully. “The entire east wing smells of her blood. She is sweet.”
Max swallows down the growl that threatens to make its way up his throat. “I’m assuming you’re here to ask me for permission to turn her?” He asks, knowing that Max needs the authorization of his maker to turn what some would call “his mate.” Max nods and stands straighter. “I’ll need to meet her of course. Tomorrow. I need to see if she’s suitable.” Serge hums, wiping some invisible lint off of his shirt.
“She will be suitable.” Max assures his sire, forgetting how abrupt he could be. “I- I love her.” He admits, knowing that Serge will take Max’s wants into account when meeting you. “She is perfect for me.”
Serge chuckles, “I’ll be the judge of that. She smells delicious so I’m sure she will be sweet. She has tamed you, Maxwell.” Serge playfully tuts, “I never thought I’d see the day.”
He bristles slightly but allows himself to relax. “She has.” He admits. “She balances me out. Keeps me from being outrageous like I used to be.” He wants this to go well. “A perfect mate for me.”
Serge nods, “we will see tomorrow. I just wanted to see you when you arrived. You may go back to your human. She must be tired after all that traveling.” Serge says and looks out of the window at the moon that has risen high in the sky.
“Tomorrow.” Max nods and lets himself out of the suite to walk back towards his rooms. Hoping that Serge is impressed by you and allows him to turn you.
****
To say you’re nervous to meet Max’s uncle is an understatement. You know you need to impress the only family Max has if you have any chance of your relationship continuing and you focus on making sure you look good this morning so that Max’s uncle is impressed by you. You exhale shakily when Max calls you from the bedroom to let you know a breakfast tray is here. “I can’t eat, Max.” You admit, “what if your uncle hates me? I can’t ask you to choose between me and your only family.”
“Don’t worry baby.” He reaches out and wraps his arm around you to pull you close. “He’s gonna love you.” He nudges his nose against yours before he kisses you. “Please just eat a little? For me? I don’t want you to be hungry.”
You nod, kissing him again, knowing you should probably have something to settle your stomach. You reach down to take a piece of buttered toast off of the tray and bite into it, watching as Max prepares your coffee the way you like it.
“Don’t think of him as someone scary.” Max tells you, turning and handing you the coffee. “He’s just my uncle. I’m introducing the woman I love to him. He’s gonna be thrilled. You’re far too good for me.”
You take the cup and playfully roll your eyes. “Sure, Phillips.” You snort and take a sip of the coffee. “Says the man who brought me to a fucking castle.” Max chuckles and you set the coffee down after finishing it. “Okay let’s go.” You brush yourself down and try to ignore the hammering of your heart as you prepare to meet Max’s uncle.
Max holds your hand after leaving the suite, wanting to reassure you. “You look beautiful today, but you look beautiful everyday.” He compliments, lifting your hand up to kiss the back of it. “We are going to meet Serge in the drawing room. Nothing too formal, baby.”
“The drawing room isn’t formal?” You snort and Max smirks as he squeezes your hand to guide you through the ornate house to the drawing room. You exhale shakily, unaware that both men can hear your heart pounding as you enter the drawing room to find a man around Max’s age standing in the room already. That confuses you. Unless he looks really good for his age, Max can’t have an uncle that’s the same age as him.
Max beams, guiding you close to the other man. Saying your name, he motions towards Serge. “This is my uncle, Serge.” He explains. “Serge, this is the woman I want to marry.”
Your heart flutters and you turn to smile at Max as he says that. You figured he wanted to take the next step bringing you here but to hear him say it aloud has you grinning from ear to ear. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You hold your hand out to his uncle who hums as he takes your hand in his. “She’s a pretty one, Max.” He says with a wink towards you, squeezing your hand. “Do you think she’d make a good vampire?” He asks and you can’t stop the confused chuckle escaping your lips.
Max doesn’t laugh, just nodding seriously. “She will.” He tells his sire. “She has amazing self control and she’s smart as hell. If you allow me to change her, it will be good for our coven here and in the States.” Serge cares that he chooses wisely when turning people now, the unfortunate fiascos that can occur when you turn too many has been a lesson learned over the decades. He turns to look at you with a proud smile. “She would be amazing.”
You turn to look at Max with confused eyes, waiting for him to say “ha, gotcha,” but he doesn’t and that makes you gasp. “Wait…are you joking? Or - or are you for real? Like- like vampires exist and I- you are one?” You ask Max, still waiting for him to burst out laughing and say it’s all a joke.
“It’s real sweet cheeks.” Max reaches for your hand again. “It’s the reason that I’ve not been able to move in with you yet. Serge isn’t my uncle, he’s my sire. He made me a vampire and I have to get permission from him to tell you about all this.”
You pull your hand away from his reach and stare at Max in shock. He's a vampire. He drinks blood. He wants you to become a vampire. You feel sick and dizzy and have a thousand different emotions. Your vision goes fuzzy and your eyes roll into the back of your head as you collapse.
That had not been the response Max was expecting. His inhumane speed keeps you from hitting the ground and he scoops you up to move you towards the sofa. Serge tuts and shakes his head. “Does she do this often?” He asks, unsure of how well you would take transforming into a creature of the night if you fainted at the news.
“No. She’s shocked.” Max huffs, caressing your cheek and looking down at you worriedly once he’s got you settled.
“Well she might be shocked but you have two options now. Either she’s changed or you kill her. You know the sacred rule…no human can know about us. It’s one or the other and if you can’t make a choice, I’ll have to kill her.” Serge declares.
“I’ll change her.” Max promises, knowing that he can’t kill you, not when he loves you like he does. “When she wakes up and accepts what I am, she’ll want to be changed.”
Serge nods and turns to walk out of the room, bored with the scene. “See that she does, Maxwell.” He warns his vampiric offspring. “Or I will destroy her.”
****
You wince when you come around, the bright light hurting your eyes and you hear Max shut the curtain as you open your eyes properly. “Max?” You croak and Max kneels beside you.
“I’m here baby.” He promises and you swallow, your throat dry. “Here.” Max says as he hands you a glass of water and you shift to sit up.
You take a few gulps and hand the glass back to Max. “I had the weirdest dream. That you were a vampire and you -” You glance around the drawing room and back to Max. “Oh God. It’s true. You - oh my God.” You choke, trying to back away from him.
“It’s okay.” He soothes you, keeping his voice low. “Nothing has changed. I’ve been a vampire this entire time and nothing’s happened, right? I just can now offer you one hell of a health plan, eternal life.” He jokes, sending you a reassuring smile. “I love you baby, and I want to be with you forever.”
“I thought - I thought you were proposing.” You choke and Max chuckles, “I kinda am. This is the vampy way of proposing.” He winks at you and you shake your head, “that’s why- you don’t eat. You don’t sleep. You - oh God. How didn’t I see something was off?”
“Because I didn’t want you too, baby.” Max reaches for you, wanting to caress your face, but you rear back from him. Making him frown, upset that you think he would hurt you. He’s never wanted to hurt you and he never would. “It’s okay baby, I’m still me. The same man you love.”
"I - I need time to think." You murmur, head hurting from trying to process that Max is a fucking vampire, and you struggle to reconcile that the man you adore also kills people. "I - what would - if you were to change me...what happens?"
“Well….” It’s good that you are asking questions. “You would be a vampire. You’d be extremely thirsty for a few days, but I will make sure you have exactly what you need.” He promises. “You’d have better hearing, vision, and strength. You wouldn’t need any sleep. You would be the best version of yourself.”
You bite your lip as you process his words. "What about...what about having kids? Would we be able to have a family?" You ask him. You had never discussed kids. You've tried but Max has always distracted you and now you know why he did.
“Baby….” Max sighs, blowing out a sound even though he doesn’t need to breathe. “I can’t have kids. I could never have kids. Not since we met.” He won’t mention that it’s because he’s technically dead. “But we could have our own version of kids. Anyone we change.”
“Oh." You sound so defeated, almost devastated. You have been so focused on your career that you always put the children talk on the back burner but you wanted the choice. Now that's being taken away from you if you want to stay with Max. "What - what would happen if I wasn't changed?" You ask and Max closes his eyes for a second, "I have to change you...or kill you." He barely breathes out the second part but you hear it. "If I don't, then Serge will." He admits and you nod slowly.
"I love you. I do. So much. I- I don't know." You confess and Max knows he made a mistake bringing you here.
"It's okay, sweetheart. I'll take you home. I'll - I can sneak you out and hide you. Serge won't find you." He promises and you reach for his hand, reminded that this is Max.
"What would happen to you?" You aren't stupid, you know there'd be consequences.
“I'd be killed but I've had a good life. I - you made it better than I could've hoped." He reveals and you feel your eyes sting at the thought of him being killed.
"Max. No. No. I - I'll do it. You can change me." You tell him and he shakes his head, "I can't. I know you don't want it. I can see it in your eyes. I can't change you and see you hate me in a decade when you realize how lonely this life can be." He admits and you squeeze his hand, "I want it." You try to convince yourself and him, "don't you want to spend forever with me?" You ask, wondering if he's changed his mind.
“I will have spent forever with you.” He’s grateful that Serge had disappeared to do whatever so he could talk to you. “My last days will be with you. That’s all I want.” He promises. He knows he can’t turn you against your will and you don’t love him enough to give up your humanity. “Quick. We need to leave now.” He tells you, standing up and pulling you up with him. “I’ll keep you safe.”
"No. No. Max- I won't - I can't let you die because of me. Please. Change me now." You beg, pushing on his chest as much as you can and tilting your head so you can display your neck to him. "I can't let you die baby. Just bite me, now. Please. Before I change my mind and freak out. Do it."
Max loves you even more for begging him to change you to save his life. He cups your cheek and smiles at you gently, ignoring the panic in your words and leaning in to kiss your lips. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.” He orders you, looking deep into your eyes and hypnotizing you with his powers or persuasion. “You will sleep now.”
You collapse into his arms, passed out as you unwillingly fall asleep. Max carries you through the house, abandoning your things to prioritize your safety and he is quick to get into the car and drive you to the airport. He needs to get you out of Romania before Serge realizes you are gone. His sire has always had such a strong conviction to vampiric law and Max knows he won't rest until order is restored.
Max keeps you asleep until he's laying you down in your bed and he pulls out his phone to call that witch girl who he fucked a few years ago. He needs a protection spell on your apartment. When you wake up, you're extremely confused to find yourself back in your bed and Max nowhere to be found. "Max?" You call out, throat dry, and you start to sob when you realize what he's done. He's going to be killed and it's all your fault.
Max has been listening outside your apartment door, waiting for you to wake up. Since the witch has placed the spell on your dwelling, even he can’t cross your threshold. A horrible side effect, but he knows he will do whatever he needs to keep you safe. He can’t even touch the door to knock. “It’s okay, baby.” He closes his eyes and sighs, standing back a few feet from your door. “You’re safe.” He hears you rush out of your bedroom and fling the door open. “Don’t step outside!” He barks harshly. “You’re safe inside. Serge can’t reach you there.”
You don’t cross the threshold but you stare at him with tears running down your cheeks, “why? Why did you do this? I- I wanted you to change me. Now you’re going to be killed. I can’t lose you. I love you, Phillips and I - I’m so sorry. I should’ve said yes. I should’ve let you change me from the get go.”
Max shakes his head. “I love you too, sweet cheeks.” He promises you. “That's why I can’t change you.” He shrugs slightly. “You want kids, and to grow old, and I can’t do any of those things.” He swallows harshly. “I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure Serge doesn’t hurt you, even if it means that he has to kill me.” He wishes he could kiss you one last time, but the kiss he gave you while you were asleep will have to do. “Don’t be sorry, and don’t blame yourself.”
You shake your head, "don't do this. Please." You choke, clinging to the door frame as you stay in the apartment and Max blows you a kiss, "I love you, baby. Be good." He says and walks down the hall, letting you know he's going to sacrifice himself. You sob, falling to the floor and you can't let him do this. You rush out of your apartment down the hall towards where Max just disappeared down the stairwell when the elevator dings.
"Silly girl. He was trying to protect you and you just ruined his plan. Nevermind, it makes my job easier." Serge chuckles, speeding towards you to grab your neck, making you cry out. "Max!"
Max hears Serge, growling and whipping around to race back down the hallway. Fear and anger when he sees his sire holding you by the neck makes Max snarl. His face shifting and transforming in the truly horrific visage of his true self, eyes yellow and bone structure heavy. “Let her go.” He growls, wishing you had never left the safety of the apartment.
“You can’t kill her, Max and she has to die. She knows the secret and she can’t be left alive. Either she dies or you do and I can’t lose you. You’re like a son to me. Just let me kill the silly girl. You’ll forget all about her in a few years and you’ll find another human.” Serge scoffs, squeezing your neck a little harder and you reach up to grab his forearms.
“No.” The growl is low, furious as Max speeds towards you and his sire. Reaching out and grabbing the older vampire’s arm, he twists it to make him drop you, lowering his shoulder to push the threat away from you as he hisses, his fangs descending, deadly sharp canines on display.
You gasp, backing up into the wall as Max grabs his maker and shoves him against the wall in your hallway. The drywall cracks and Max growls as he manages to wrap his hand around Serge’s throat. “You motherfucker.” He growls and squeezes as he fumbles to open his jacket.
“She’s worth this, Max? If you kill me, you’ll die.” Serge reminds him.
“I don’t care.” Max snarls. “As long as she lives, I can die a happy man.” Instead of tearing Serge’s head off, Max lunges forward and sinks his teeth into the man’s throat, tearing it out and then pulls out the stake he had put in his jacket. Plunging it into his maker’s chest, fully prepared to die to keep you safe.
You scream as you watch Serge explode, blood covering the walls of your apartment hall and you shake your head. “Max no!” You cry, scared that he’s going to die because of you. “Why did you do that!” You shout, “You are going to - oh God. Max.” You fall to the floor when he turns around and you see him covered in blood.
He’s getting a few more seconds. Seconds he doesn’t want to waste. Grabbing you, Max hauls you close to him and presses his blood covered lips to yours. “I love you.” He promises, right before the pressure in his body builds to the point where he screams.
You cling to him, uncaring that he’s likely to explode in a spray of blood. You want to be close to him in his final moments, the life he sacrificed for yours. “I love you.” You cry as he screams until he slumps down beside you. He doesn’t explode, he collapses onto the floor unconscious and you sob, reaching for him to caress his cheek. His bone structure is still heavy, depicting his true nature until it starts to shift under your touch. “I’m so sorry, Max.” You sob, leaning down to press your face to his chest, mourning the man you love so dearly.
Long minutes pass. His body is still and unmoving. Changing back to the body of a normal man and not exploding into a bloody pile of goop like you had expected. You continue to sob against his chest until a strange sound captures your attention. One that you realize you had never heard before despite laying on his chest after sex. A tiny thud. Repeating again and again until it starts to resemble something you never thought you would hear. A heartbeat.
You pull back, looking down at Max in shock, and he inhales sharply after several seconds, spluttering as he chokes on a breath. "Max!" You cry, thinking something is wrong until he opens his eyes. "Max. Are you - are you okay?" You ask, hands covered in blood as you cup his cheeks.
Max grimaces, his head pounding in the first headache he’s had in…..since he was turned. “I- fuck-“ he gasps out, feeling his lungs start to burn from the lack of oxygen. “I’m- I’m human again.” He whispers, realizing what all of that must mean.
You are in shock, your palm on his thumping heart and you look at him. “Max. You’re human.” You gasp, helping him to sit up and you know he has to be feeling everything all at once. “Are you okay?”
“I feel like shit.” Max admits and after he thinks about that for a moment, he starts to laugh. “Baby, I feel like shit!” He repeats, aware that he’s never felt like shit as a vampire. “Serge must have known that killing him wouldn’t kill me.” He realizes. “Motherfucker lied.”
You caress his cheek, “you’re human.” You are in shock and You surge forward to hug him. “You’re alive. Baby. Can I - you hungry?” You ask, wanting to look after him as much as possible.
Max wraps his arms around you and frowns slightly as his stomach growls. “I- yes?” It’s more of a question since he’s only experienced thirst since being changed. “I- oh my god, baby, I’m human. I-“ he chokes up and buries his face in your neck.
You caress his back, wondering if he’s happy or angry that he’s human. “Are you- are you upset that you don’t have - that you aren’t a vampire anymore?” You ask, unable to believe how warm he feels beneath your touch. You’ve never noticed that before.
“I don’t care about being a vampire.” That’s true, he realizes as Max pulls away to look into your eyes. “I want to be with you. Forever, for twenty years, it doesn’t matter, as long as I’m with you.”
Your lower lip trembles as you stare at him with tears in your eyes. “I love you Max. I want to be with you. I would’ve spent forever with you but I’m happy to spend the rest of my life with you.” You promise, “I just - I hope you don’t regret this.” You sigh, leaning in to softly kiss him.
“I’d never regret you, sweet cheeks.” Max promises you. “But I’m starving.” He groans. “And I’m so fucking sore. And my head hurts.”
“Do you want to shower and I’ll make you something to eat?” You ask, running your fingers through his blood soaked hair. “And I’ll get you some Tylenol.” You promise, knowing that he’s going to have to adjust to human life again.
Max grins, leaning in and kissing you again. “I fucking love you.” He breathes out. “That sounds like heaven. And then I want it see what human sex is like with you.” He teases, happy that he didn’t become a Jackson Pollock painting and he gets a second chance at being human, with you. “See if those swimmers work now.”
You chuckle, “well I have an IUD. Didn’t realize it was a waste of time, but let’s go get you that shower.” You say, shifting to stand up. “I love you, Max Phillips.” You say when he’s standing up and you guide him into your apartment, leaving the blood in the hall to deal with later and you shut the door, guiding Max to your bathroom. You turn on the water and work on stripping off his blood soaked clothes. “I’m so happy you’re alive. I- I should’ve stayed inside. I nearly lost you.” You choke, cupping his cheeks once he’s bare before you.
“Baby, I would do anything for you.” Max reminds you, holding onto your waist. “Even die.” He chuckles. “But I’m glad that didn’t happen.” He admits, leaning in and sighing softly.
“Me too.” You murmur, working on removing your own clothes and you guide him into the shower. “Temperature okay?” You ask and he nods. You grab the body wash you’ve kept in your shower for him and you work on washing him, loving the way he groans when you rub his head. “My hero. Saving me. Sacrificing for me. You are incredible Max.” You whisper, wanting him to know how much you adore him.
Max hums, closing his eyes and enjoying the heat of the water and your hands on his skin. “You are worth it.” He murmurs quietly. “You’re worth everything, baby.”
You smile and kiss his chest, right above his now beating heart. You owe him your life and your humanity and you will love him until the day you die. You shift to rinse him off, working fast to clean yourself up. This isn’t sexual, purely comfort and you work fast until you are handing him a towel. “Get some sweats and I’ll make you some food. “Grilled cheese and tomato soup sound good?”
Groaning, his mouth practically waters at the idea of the simple meal. “That sounds amazing. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had that?” He asks. “I will eat anything that you want to fix happily.”
You smile, happy to look after him after he’s taken such good care of you. You quickly dress in your shorts and tank top and make your way into the kitchen to prepare dinner for you both. You are surprisingly hungry after nearly being killed and it doesn’t take long for you to have the meal on the kitchen table. “Max. It’s ready!” You shout as he comes out of your bedroom.
Max stumbles out of the bedroom, his headache still a dull throb and he’s actually used the bathroom for the first time in years. “It smells amazing.” He’s drooling as he sits down and looks at the deceptively simple meal. “Thank you, baby.”
You know it’s a big adjustment for him but you’ll be there every step of the way. You set the Tylenol down with the bottle of water and tell him to drink. “Drink, baby. Take some Tylenol. You have been through a lot.” You say and he follows your order, taking two pills and swallowing them before he digs into the meal.
It tastes so good that Max can’t help but moan and groan over the meal. “Oh my god.” He moans, chewing his bite of grilled cheese and taking a spoonful of the soup. “I could eat this everyday for the rest of my life.”
You chuckle, “you can if you want. Maybe we can go back to those restaurants and you can actually eat your steak. Or try something different.” You suggest, loving the way he’s enjoying the food. You’ve never seen him like this before. You finish your meal after he does, full and suddenly exhausted. “I’ll put this in the dishwasher. Go get ready for bed. I’ll be right in.”
It’s strange to be tired after years of not sleeping. Pretending to rest while he lays with you to make you think he had just woken up. Now, his entire body feels like it’s about to shut down and he still wants to touch you. He follows your orders and goes to get ready for bed, using the tooth brush that he leaves here.
You watch him come back into your bedroom and you pull the covers over, letting him get under them with you and you shift to pull him close, throwing your leg over his hip. “You have freckles.” You murmur, tracing his chest. “You didn’t have those before.”
He chuckles a little self consciously, wondering if the human version of Max Phillips will be exciting enough for you. “Yeah.” He hums. “I used to go to the beach a lot. Oh shit, I can be out in the sun for more than ten minutes again.” He realizes, eyes widening. “Can we go to the beach this weekend?” He asks excitedly.
You smile, “of course babe. We can go.” You promise and lean in to press your lips to his collarbone. “I’m so happy you’re alive. Vampire or human. I don’t think I could ever survive without you, Phillips. I love you so much.” You confess and lean in to kiss his jaw. “You saved me.” You murmur against his skin, “let me - I want to suck your cock.” You say, grinding yourself against him.
“Baby….” He whines, loving the idea. “Okay but you can't let me cum.” He tells you breathlessly. “I don’t know if I can stay hard. And I want you to cum too.
You nod, knowing that Max’s endless fucking isn’t possible now that’s he’s human but you don’t care. You love him more than anything else. You shift to pull the covers back, loving that he’s already half hard as you carefully pull down his sweats after he lifts his hips. You settle between his legs, spitting into your hand and you grip his cock, looking at those beautiful dark eyes as you lean in to wrap your lips around the head of his cock.
“Baby, I fucking love your mouth. It’s so good for so many things. Kissing me, sucking my cock, telling me that you love me.” He groans. “I want to tell you everyday how much I love your mouth.”
You moan around him, loving how he twitches inside of your mouth, and you work the base with your fingers, letting your saliva drip down to your digits. You groan when he grabs the back of your neck and you think he's going to push you further down his cock but he pulls you off. You whine, saliva dripping down your chin, "baby. Why?" You huff despite your cunt dripping for him.
“Want to be inside you.” He pants. “Want to feel you around my cock when I cum.” There’s enough time later on for him to let you swallow his cum. Right now he’s wanting to live every day like it’s his last and make sure you know how much he adores you.
You shift, pushing your shorts down and moving fast to straddle him, wanting to take care of him after his body has gone through so much. You reach down to grip his cock. "I love you." You murmur as you start to sink down onto his cock.
“Oh fuck baby, oh fuck.” Max groans, his toes curling up. “I love how you feel. It’s so, it’s so good. You're hotter. Wetter somehow.”
“You are hotter.” You tell him, “you feel - you feel so good Max.” You moan, caressing his bare chest to place your palm over his pounding heart as you start to move. You moan his name and he hisses when you clench around him as you start to bounce on his cock.
It’s crazy to feel lightheaded and out of breath. Feeling more now that he was human again. His fingers curl into the flesh at your hips and he moans your name. “Fuck baby, your so pretty.”
You preen at his praise, making you whimper his name and you rock a little faster. He is so soft beneath your touch and you never realized how cold he was until you feel his heated skin beneath your fingertips. “God, I love you Max. So much. Need - gonna make me -” You reach between you to rub your clit, so close to your orgasm.
He watches for a moment, obsessed with how you look. Then he’s slapping your hand away to rub your clit himself. He wants to be the one to make you cum. Loving the way you immediately buck when he takes over.
Your mouth falls open as you rock on his cock. “Yes baby. Oh shit. Yes. I’m gonna - fuck. You’re gonna make me cum.” You hiss, your thighs shaking as you grip his cock inside of you. Soaking him as you cum and you slump forward into his chest.
“Oh god, oh god, that feels so good.” He moans, wrapping his arms around you and sighing softly. He’s almost content to just stay like this but he wants to feel an orgasm as a human again so he starts to rock his hips up slowly. “I love you, baby. Nothing’s gonna keep us apart.”
You know there’s so much that could keep you apart but you’ll fight tooth and nail to make sure you spend the rest of your lives together. He rocks up into you and you get yourself together so you can rock down onto his cock, loving the way he hisses when your walls grip him. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel it.” You tell him, “wanna feel you cum inside of me.”
Max whimpers, eyes closed and he gasps out your name. Knowing that he should have died today, but he’s been given a new lease on life. “I love you.” He moans, thrusting up into you and painting your walls with his hot seed.
You moan, loving how it feels and you caress his chest as he twitches inside of you. “I love you.” You murmur, wanting to say it over and over now that you’re both safe. You aren’t sure how long you stay like that, just breathing each other in as he softens inside of you
Max’s eyes close almost immediately, his arms wrapped around you and he breathes you in. Smiling softly as he truly gets to inhale your scent. He might not have eternal life or everlasting youth anymore, but he has something much better, you.
#pedro pascal#max phillips#max phillips x f!reader#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips smut#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips imagine#bloodsucking bastards#max phillips bloodsucking bastards
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day four - teratophilia
pairing: max phillips x f!reader
word count: 555
warnings:18+ content; no use of y/n; vampires, office sex, blood mentions, drinking blood, unprotected p in v
• kinktober 2023 masterlist •
She knew she shouldn’t be doing this. That the second she had seen those teeth, she should have been running for the hills. Anywhere, as long as it was away from him.
But it was quite the opposite, as she saw those sharp fangs for the first time, she felt oddly attracted to them. Their bearer was attractive, yes. Anyone who had eyes would call Max Phillips attractive.
Yet those teeth only added to it.
Her dreams became consumed by him, by his sharp fangs sinking into the soft flesh of her neck, piercing her skin elsewhere. Grazing over her skin, all while his strong hands left bruises behind with how tightly he was gripping her.
And now she was alone with him, in his office, her legs spread for him on his desk while his cock drilled into her again and again. Her dreams had become reality, his teeth nicking her lips as he kissed her, groaning at the taste of copper that filled his mouth.
Drinking down her sweet moans, his grip on her hip bruising, his voice darker and closer to a growl than anything else.
As his mouth descended onto her neck, only grazing his teeth over her skin, she couldn’t help the moan that slipped past her lips.
“Bite me.” She said and she was almost begging him to do it, his ears perking up at the sound. “Bite me, Max.”
“Bite you?” He echoed, his hips never losing their rhythm. Oh, what a sweet thing she was, so willing to give herself over to him. “You love that I’m a monster, don’t you, toots? Unlike everyone else who screams and runs?”
She nodded, whining when he lightly nibbled at her neck. But it wasn’t enough, she needed more of him.
“Yeah, fucking love it.” Her voice was high pitched and desperate, so close to an orgasm. Her fingers curled into his clothed bicep, eyes opening to see his dark eyes staring back at her. “Fucking bite me, please.”
He quite liked her, had smelled her nice perfume, had been lusting after her for a while. Max didn’t want to just turn her, wanted to keep her for himself and keep drinking from her. Because something about her was special, the way she came to him instead of him having to chase and capture her.
Her neck was warm and inviting, her pulse rapid. How could he resist that? While balls deep into her no less.
“Oh, toots.” He chuckled, voice dark. “You bet your pretty little ass that I will.”
Planting her teeth against where he felt her pulse, he waited just until her tight pussy began to convulse around his cock, sinking his teeth into her.
She cried out, her orgasm intensifying from the pain of his teeth, from the way she felt the blood leave her body, a certain lightheadedness taking over her.
That was her dream, at the mercy of this monster as he drank from her, pulling back eventually to press his bloodied lips against hers in a sloppy kiss. Tasting her own blood on her tongue, certainly hoping this wouldn’t be the last time she would get to fuck the monster of her dreams.
And the look in his eyes told her that this was far from the last time this were to happen.
#max phillips#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips smut#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#kinktober 2023#my writing#bloodsucking bastards
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Blood Money Chapter One:
The Capo - A Reader x Dave York x Max Phillips fic - Vampire Mafia AU
General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog that writes porn with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given.
Specific warnings: Reader is in captivity, chained up, a servant of a malicious vampire mob outfit, blood, gore, horror elements, existensial dread, thoughts of death and ending reader's life. Max Phillips is a warning in himself. Canon/horror trope-typical violence.
I'm going back to tag lists so please let me know if you want to be added!
Big thanks to @wannab-urs and @pascalispretty for beta-ing and proofing this one! And special thanks to @pastelnap and @patti7dc for being my muses on this one, even if I am so mad you made me start a new work with my WIP backlog as it is (I love you really thank you so much!!) Without further ado:
Summary: Stuck in a basement for over a year, fixing the books of one of the most ruthless Mafia outfits in New York City has no perks, only pain, misery and servitude.
But when your masters are murdered by a rival clan, you wish for a swift death, but Max Phillips has other plans for you.
[Ao3 Link]
Masterlist Next Chapter->
Chapter One: The Capo
The clink of chains, the dripping of a leaking pipe. The combined smell of your own body odour, blood, and mould. The flicker of the too-bright fluorescent tube lighting burning your eyes. The cool air of the basement hits your bare skin, a pleasant distraction from a fever burning through you.
These were the only sensations you have known for over a year, but getting kidnapped by the vampire clan that runs this part of New York City renders such discomforts mundane. The fact you are still drawing breath is a blessing and a curse.
“Come on meat-sack, work time.” The vampire guarding the door snaps you out of your sleep-deprived haze. You look up to see Ren, a sadistic underling with a habit of trying to scare you enough to make you piss yourself. Although, that hasn’t happened in months. His jet-black hair is slicked back in a ponytail and his dark eyes devour you, his tongue snaking over his lips as he lingers on your exposed chest.
You sit at your desk, atop a faded leather office chair that creaks and wobbles from age. But it’s not like you could tell the Vampire Mafia that they needed better facilities for their staff. You flick through the disorganised mess of papers, receipts, shipment manifests and try your best to ignore him. But he saunters over to you, coming to hover over your shoulder.
“Shame Hiro’s going to fuck you up later, you’ve become so obedient.” Ren chuckles as he rattles your restraints. He snaps his fanged teeth against your neck, you’re almost sure the blunt ridges of his incisors brush your skin but you’re so desensitised now that you just nod. He wouldn’t risk puncturing your skin, even today. But you doubt you’d care even if he did.
“You’ve gotten boring anyway.” He grumbles at your lack of response and leaves, locking the secure door behind him as you sit in your concrete box. Your calloused, raw hands sift through the documents once more, but your mind is foggy and sluggish. You actually think you might be dying. You sip at the canteen of water chained to your desk – the metallic tang of contaminated water burns your throat – but it’s better than dying of thirst.
Your head pounds. You try to balance the manifest against the ledger in front of you but your vision blurs. Your body aches with cold numbness that spreads to your extremities like a spill of oil, slow, sluggish, suffocating. You’re falling asleep, face pressed against the desk when you hear it, the unmistakable rattle of semi-automatic weapons above you.
Your head perks up, something about the break in monotony appeals to that dim, flickering ember in your chest that wants to live. You know there’s no point trying to break free, you’ve spent the best part of a year trying to free yourself. So, you wait, skin buzzing with tension as you wait for whatever is coming your way.
Footsteps in the corridor beyond your prison door make your heart race. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as the locking mechanism clicks and you hold your breath. The door swings open and the realisation hits you; who would even come and rescue you? The FBI? The Police? Fucking Columbo?
“Let’s see what Hiro’s got hidden away in here.”
A low rumbling voice floats through the door as you feel your stomach lurch. You try and cover your naked body with your free hand, palm splayed over your right breast, forearm draped over the other.
“Help, please!” You call out, desperation getting the better of you for fear that they would miss you and you’d end up stranded, starving to death in your concrete prison. The door swings wide and you feel the blood leave your cheeks as another, unfamiliar vampire darkens the doorway.
He’s tall and clean shaven with perfectly styled hair that sweeps over his brows. His dark eyes glimmer in the harsh tube lighting, they rake over your naked form with a deep, primal hunger.
His three-piece suit is tailored to perfection. Grey suit jacket and slacks snug enough to show off his lean body but loose enough to not hinder his movement. The red and black baroque waistcoat and pocket square ooze opulence. If there wasn’t a semi-automatic rifle in his one hand, and a bloodied knife in the other, you would probably think him dashing.
But the fangs that jut over his plush lips extinguish all hope of escape. They glimmer, almost luminous, in the harsh lighting and you sit down slowly, crumpling into the decrepit office chair.
“Just get it over with.”
The vampire cocks an eyebrow at you, baring his perfectly white teeth at you in amusement. He saunters over, weapons still clutched in his large hands. You lean your neck to the side, eyes closed, you can’t even bring yourself to cry. You just want it all to end.
You feel him hover over you, the smell of his floral cologne invading your senses as you try not to react. The less you seem meek the quicker it’ll all be. The chains clink and you feel the restraints on your right ankle and wrist pull taut.
“Poor little thing, naked, dirty…” The vampire mutters in your ear, he inhales pointedly against your hairline, “But not afraid? Why is that little lamb?”
You go rigid as you feel the chains jostle once more, then an audible crack as your restrains fall away from your limbs. You whimper involuntarily at the blissful relief that radiates from the abused flesh; you’ve not had your restraints off in so long. You hear the vampire hiss, a curse in Spanish leaving his lips before he barks orders to someone else in the room.
“Just kill me!” You wail as you open your eyes, you turn to your captor and try to push against him, goad him on, rile him up to just rip your throat out and get it over with. You pound meekly against his chest with little effect.
A warm, heavy jacket weighs your shoulders down and you look up to see a strange look on the vampire’s face. A mixture of curiosity and pity, which only serves to makes you angry. But the world lurches around you before you can form another thought. You fall forward, nose pressed against the vampire’s silk waistcoat, and you welcome the sweet release of death.
----
“What the fuck were you thinking?” Dave finally snaps as he paces behind his desk. Not for the first time, he’s glad for the hardwood flooring. He knows there would be a worn patch beneath his feet if his office was carpeted. Max is splayed out on the chaise lounge in the middle of the office, a smug smile causing his cheeks to dimple. His buttons popped open to display the gold chain around his neck.
“She’s useful. She’s been running those books for well over a year, judging by the sores on her, we could use her.” Max says with a shrug, eyeing his superior with such challenge that would spell death for any of the other Capos.
Dave falters at the comment, searching Max’s features for a hint of a joke, or even deception. But for once, he reads Max like a book; something about this human is special. And Dave intends to find out what it is.
“We’ve been a team for a very long time Max, don’t make me regret this.”
----
You cough violently as you jolt awake, your mouth is dry and your tongue like sandpaper. Your head swims as you try and take in the dark surroundings.
Gone is the smell of rot and decay. Instead, you find your face pressed into clean, soft sheets that smell so fresh it’s almost surreal. You blink sleep from your eyes and roll up into a sitting position, you gaze around the darkness with tired eyes. You spot two doors; the one is firmly shut to your left. The other is ajar but the lack of light prevents you from seeing where it leads.
You turn back to look at the nightstand: there’s a pitcher of water and a glass waiting for you with a small note tucked under the base, and a lamp with a pull cord. You close your eyes and turn it on, opening your eyes slowly to the newly illuminated room. The colour scheme is deep brown and white, minimalist, yet dripping with wealth.
There’s a closet with mirrored doors at the far end of the room, next to what you can now safely assume is an ensuite. The mirrors let you look at yourself for the first time in so long and it makes your stomach roll. You’re too far away to make out the details but the sight is horrifying. You’re forced to look away from the gaunt, emaciated image of yourself, instead looking anywhere else.
The light from the modest lamp spills out over deep brown wooden floor, you let your eyes roam away from the mirrors, up to high-vaulted ceilings and down to the thick blackout curtains which effectively block any and all light from the outside world.
Not underground.
You think absently to yourself as another cough erupts from your throat. You pull the note out and place it on your lap as you pick the pitcher up with both hands, not bothering to decant the untainted liquid. It tastes like nectar on your abused tongue.
You groan aloud as the water washes over your dry tongue, rehydrating your mouth like an old sponge. You feel better with every gulp, but you force yourself to stop. You know if you drink too quickly you’ll just make yourself sick. You instead pour a glass of water, putting the pitcher down on the nightstand before unfolding the note.
The door is unlocked, the vampire guarding your room will arrange a car to take you wherever you need, if you so wish to leave. Her name is Amalia, and she is tasked with looking after you.
I hope you stay. We could use someone like you on our side.
Max (The handsome vampire that saved your life)
Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of the whirlwind of events that led to this point. You’re not dead, nor are you chained up, yet the sense of imminent danger remains. It clings to you like wet clothing, dragging you down, chilling you to the bone.
You look down at your body, lifting the sheets to check for restraints, you notice you are wearing someone else’s clothes. A white dress shirt that smells of orange peel and cinnamon, and a pair of loose, grey, cotton sweatpants. Both articles of clothing are too big for you but there’s a strange sense of comfort wearing something not your own. Not that you’ve owned anything substantial for some time.
You force yourself out of bed and make for the closed door. You knock gently on it before speaking through it to your vampire guardian.
“Amalia?”
“Ah, you’re awake, excellent. Have you made a decision yet?” Her voice is gruff and coarse but there’s a warmth to the way she speaks, setting you a little more at ease.
“No, but I am starving and I need to wash. Can you get me something to eat?”
“Of course, what kind of thing do you want?”
“I don’t know.” You say softly, realising you haven’t eaten a hot meal in as long as you can remember.
“I’ll figure it out. Try not to get your bandages wet, Max will kill me if he has to redress them so soon.” The sound of Amalia’s footsteps heading away from the door sets something off in your brain, the instinct to flee hits you like a punch to the gut.
No matter what the note says, you know that trusting vampires was foolish and often deadly. You have the chance to flee, but to where? You don’t even know where you are; are you still in New York? Did they move you across state lines?
And what would you even do? You’re weak, malnourished, they’d catch you before you even leave the building.
You scold yourself internally as you feel the desire to run ebb away, leaving hopelessness in its wake. You trudge into the bathroom and strip out of the shirt and sweatpants. The ensuite is large, with a walk-in shower taking up much of the right wall. The floor is tiled, large blue squares with streaks of silver and white arcing through the tile like the veins in marble.
The walls are bright white, and all the light fixtures and faucets are sparkling gold. You wonder for a moment if it’s all real gold. You spot the sink and mirrored medicine cabinet which you immediately cover with a towel from the heated rack fixed to the wall next to it. You’re not ready to see yourself, not yet.
You open the medicine cabinet to find it stocked with expensive shampoo, conditioner, and soap, as well as generic deodorant sticks, toothbrushes, toothpaste, even mouthwash. You feel a strange twinge of gratitude as you note the effort put in to accommodate a non-vampire like this. But you can’t trust it, your brain automatically lurching to thoughts of being buttered up, coaxed into a false sense of security. You grab the things you need and close the cabinet.
You turn the shower on and angle your body so that your right arm and leg stay out of the spray. You wash as best you can, taking twice the normal time due to only having one functioning arm and leg. You work through the products you had selected, making sure to wash your hair thoroughly. You can’t even remember the last shower you took, let alone the last time you washed yourself so thoroughly.
You towel off before using some of the fancy moisturisers on your face and skin without thinking, a strange appeal to your life before as you fall so easily into a muscle memory routine. Tears spring from your eyes, tracking down your cheeks as you feel something you can’t put into words. Like a burst of anguish and elation all at the same time. Like a burning blade being quenched in oil, it hisses and spits, but something about it all feels right.
You pull on the sweatpants and button up the dress shirt, subconsciously nuzzling into the collar as you head back to the bed. You still don’t know what time it is, but you really don’t care; you’re hungry and tired, and once you’ve eaten your fill you plan to sleep for as long as your captors allow.
You sit on top of the sheets, knees pulled up to your chest as you try to occupy your thoughts with something other than the looming inevitability of the servitude to your new vampiric overlords.
Same shit, different choice of designer suit.
----
“Food’s ready. Do you want it in there or in the dining room?” Amalia’s gruff voice calls through the door and your head perks up from its position atop your knees as you wake from a daydream.
“I can come out?”
“Of course. Max told me he left you a letter, didn’t you read it?”
“Well, yeah,” You call back, your voice stronger than before, a little self-confidence bleeding through, “But I just assumed that was some sort of trick.”
“Smart, I’ll give you that, but Max and Mr York are men of their word.”
“I’ll have it out there.” You say, crawling off the bed with weak legs. Your bandages were bleeding through a little and you wince at the deep crimson spreading across the off-white mesh.
“Alright I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be just outside the far door, the one with the peephole, if you need me.” Amalia says and you wait until you hear the closing of a second door before you twist the doorknob, mustering up the courage to leave the modest sanctuary of your room.
The next room is dimly lit, enough light to see by but with an ambience to it that felt almost romantic. There are no windows in this room, in their stead are lavish paintings in gilded frames. The long dining table sits at the centre of the room and you want to spend some time exploring this new space, but the smell of food draws you deeper into the room.
Three paper bags and three cup drinks sit on placemats and coasters, protecting the rich mahogany of the tabletop from grease and condensation. Each bag has the contents scribbled in Sharpie somewhere on the exterior, the drinks the same.
Cheeseburger and Fries
Chicken shawarma (Dairy Free)
Vegan jackfruit loaded nachos (Gluten Free)
Once again, the care and attention to your wants and needs strikes you like a physical blow. None of this was necessary or even reasonable. You’re a meat-sack waiting for the inevitable chaining to a desk and eventual draining when your value diminishes. Yet here you were, with a choice of three meals, and three sodas, as if they want you to be comfortable.
You rip all the bags open, sampling from each as you go. You can’t remember a time when you had variety in your diet, let alone a warm meal. You barely touch the soda, the fizz harsh on your tongue after so long without it; but there’s almost nothing left of the take-out bags by the time you’re done.
You settle back against the dining chair and let out a soft noise, somewhere between a whine and a burp. You sit for a while, letting the post-food coma take over as you feel giddy. You’ve been feeding on pouches of brown or grey mush for too long – you know you’ve overeaten, but you don’t care.
Freedom tastes sweet.
You ignore the little voice in the back of your mind that tries to remind you that this isn’t freedom. You want to acknowledge the small win, savour the brief reprieve from crippling despair.
The sound of the apartment door opening has you jumping to your feet, backing away slowly from the table, subconsciously making for the bedroom. Your heart hammers in your chest, your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive as you try to fight the Pavlovian instinct to submit and drop to your knees and bow your head.
“Max, come on, she’s still fragile, I don’t think she wants to see anyone yet.” Amalia’s voice has lost all the warmth she had used with you, and you hear Max hiss at her denial.
“Amalia, get out of my way or I will move you, and I can’t promise you’ll still have all your limbs when I’m done.”
You’re frozen, glued to the spot as you wait for Max to force his way inside, your skin slick with sweat as you wring your hands in front of you. You hear Amalia make a huffing noise of dissent, not quite a sigh, but something similar in tone.
The door opens slowly and Max slips inside, closing it with a soft click, as if after his explosive conversation with Amalia he could pass inside undetected. You let out a shaky breath and watch as he turns to see you standing there, arms crossed over your chest.
“Ah, shit, you heard that then?” He says with a dazzling flash of his perfectly white teeth. It’s disarming, leaving you feeling more confident than you know you have any right to be.
“It’s hard to ignore the threat of dismemberment when it’s practically roared through the hall.” You say softly, immediately clamping your hands over your mouth, eyes wide and pleading as you watch Max stalk over to you.
He’s wearing the same pressed slacks as before, but gone is the suit jacket and waistcoat. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up, the material accentuates his firm biceps; and gold shirt garters sit just above his elbows, holding them in place. His shirt is open, revealing a gold chain resting against his tan skin and small tufts of chest hair. You shamefully feel a spark of attraction for the monster before you, but you can’t deny he’s attractive, vampire or not.
“Glad you’ve got some fire in you, was worried you’d be deathly boring.” Max says with a dramatic roll of his eyes before opening a door to your left, gesturing for you to follow.
You hesitate, unsure if you should follow, but ultimately you decide to do as you’re told. You follow Max through into a large study, the walls are lined with bookshelves – mostly non-fiction but you spot a few unmarked ledgers bound in leather with gilded lettering interspersed amongst them.
Max flops down on one of the cream sofas that surround a small black coffee table. Beyond you spy an expensive looking desk with an equally extravagant looking green leather chair. You take a seat opposite Max, tucking your bare feet underneath you as you try to stop fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.
“So, you’re probably expecting some grand monologue about how you belong to our Clan now, how you are to serve us as a diligent little worker bee until you serve no further use and we dispose of you. About right?”
You nod curtly, your eyes roaming over the vampire so casually sprawled out like a cat before you. His rich brown eyes are almost kind, but there’s a stony edge to them that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
“Did you read my note?”
You give another nod and Max rolls his eyes and sighs, a deliberate action, seeing as vampires don’t breathe.
“I’m not in the business of being the only one talking, as much as I like the sound of my own voice. It gets tedious,” He pauses and sits up straight, resting his elbows on his knees before cradling his chin on top of his interlaced fingers, “Please, I meant it when I said we would let you go; for vampires, we’re actually pretty reasonable.”
“Sorry, I’m just not used to being allowed to speak.” You bow your head, averting his piercing gaze. He makes a small tsk sound and you feel the warmth of his fingers brush your jaw. You try not to shudder but it’s like fire is being breathed into your skin, vitality returning to you like sunshine after unending rain. His large hand cradles your face, and he coaxes you to look up at him. He’s leaning over the coffee table, his eyes soft and vulnerable as he tries to reassure you without words.
“If you choose to stay, you will never have to worry about being kept mute, nor caged. You will be part of our family, you have my word.” His voice is serious, fringed with emotion and a fragility you don’t understand.
“And if I choose to leave?”
“We will let you go, but you will be on your own. Hiro is in the wind, and he won’t stop until you’re back under his heel, or dead.” He says with a sympathetic twitch of his lips, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace.
“So I don’t really have a choice?”
“No, I guess not, but I know which option I would pick.” Max goes to move his hand from your face but you snatch his wrist without thinking, holding it against you. The tender touch of a monster is too sweet on your touch starved skin.
“But I mean it, we don’t intend to keep you prisoner, we’d like you to work for us, bookkeeping just like for Hiro, but without the chains and nudity.” Max doesn’t try to pull away and you drop your hand back into your lap. You lean into his touch, your mind softened by the promises of his silver tongue, your body mending at the tenderness of his fingers.
“Fine, I‘ll do it.”
“Excellent. Well we don’t expect you to start straight away, you’re, frankly,” He pauses as he pulls away to look you up and down, “A hot mess, and we want you healthy and fit before putting you to work.”
Max stands and holds his hand out to you and you wobble to your feet and take it as firmly as your weakened body can manage.
“Thank you.” You feel tears well up as you feel the rush of emotion coursing through you.
“No crying now, I don’t know how to deal with that shit,” Max scrunches his face up at you, like you’ve just dropped a dead rat at his feet.
“Noted.”
You feel a small laugh escape your lips as you shake your head in disbelief. Max takes you back to your room, hovering behind you but never touching you. Even if you secretly wish he would, he bids you a good morning, informing you that it’s just after four.
“Oh, and I’ll be by later to redress your bandages. Sleep well.”
The door clicks shut behind you and you take a shaky breath before climbing into bed, nestling amongst the soft sheets before closing your eyes.
Here goes nothing.
Thanks for reading! I'm going back to tag lists so please let me know if you want to be added! Let me know what you think!
#tw: vampires#tw: horror#tw: blood#tw: guns#tw: violence#tw: captivity#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#max Phillips#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips smut#dave York#pedro pascal fandom#equalizer 2#dave york x reader#dave york x you#dave york fanfiction#dave york smut#dave york x female reader#fic: blood money#blood money#blood money fic#vi writes#vampire au#mafia au
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(belatedly) for my 50 follower celebration! @wannab-urs asked: max phillips and prompt no. nine— "you look so pretty like this." with a twist!
pairing: max phillips x fem!vampire!reader
word count & rating: 1.9k | explicit
content tags: reader is not American/not an "American vampire", porn with mild plot, pet names (honey, baby, sweetie, Maxxie), all the usual vampire genre warnings, including but not limited to - graphic blood and gore, cannibalism, mention of scars, horror themes, love as consumption, smut - mommy kink, degradation (max gets called a slut), cock slapping, dacryphilia if you squint, orgasm denial, handjob, alcohol mention, fluff.
notes: a good ol' hj. this is super belated but life got a little bit better again today so it's time to celebrate. tagging people who expressed interest in this concept at the bottom, mwah <3
He’s got a scar on his left shoulder where you marked him the first time. It seems like so long ago when you’d first taken him into your arms and shown him a new life. A new way to live with the gift he’d been given. Now he has dozens of other scars just like it, bigger or smaller in different places. Still, that one remains your favourite.
When Max wakes, his wrists are already bound together against the winding filigree of the headboard. You considered a hog tie, deciding against it when you got out the rope. For this, you want to see him. All of him.
He wriggles slightly as he comes to, returning from whatever the undead take for sleep. His kind are different from yours. It is what drew you to him in the first place. The great American vampire—you’d never seen one up close. His blood smelled so rich when you first met. You made it your mission for Max Phillips to be yours…and now, he is.
“What’s all this?” he asks, shifting his legs around. They move beneath the covers, rumpling the sheets.
“A project,” you say, sitting by his feet. If your heart could beat, it would be pounding in your chest. The anticipation is everything—this little cat and mouse ordeal being the delicious tip of the iceberg.
“A project?”
“More like a test. Been a while since you’ve had one of those, huh, Maxxie?” you ask.
Max enjoys taking. Pleasure is in the take, of keeping something. This suits you well enough most days; he’s well-behaved and generous. Pleasure is the foreground, but you both know who’s in control behind the scenes.
Some days, though, you aren’t satisfied in being the woman behind the curtain. Some days, you like for Max to give you a little show. Giving for him means giving it all. Today is one of those days.
“Honey,” he says, smugness wiped from his tone. “You know I’m no good at tests.”
“You’re wrong,” you return. “You are going to do just fine.” Max’s brow furrows when you press his nose like a button, grinning down at his body. “I’m going to make you feel good. But you aren’t allowed to finish. Not ‘til I tell you to. Simple, easy. You can do that, Max. Right?”
He wriggles on the bed a bit more, trying to keep his movements controlled and hidden from you. The thought must stir something in his stomach, a whispered yes falling from his lips. You get on the bed properly now, one knee on either side of his legs. Running your hands over the exposed skin of his thighs makes Max shudder. All the silvery marks and mottled skin beneath your hands makes you wet, getting to feel what you’ve done to him.
When you move your hands closer to the hardness in his briefs, Max freezes. He lets you work the piece of clothing from him as he watches. Discarding the underwear on the floor, you focus your attention back on him. The head of his cock is the slightest bit red, the blood he’s consumed flushing his skin.
“Aw, that looks like it hurts,” you say.
“It does,” Max nods. His words elicit no reaction from you, watching him from your seat over his knees. He corrects himself, “It does, Mommy. Sorry.”
You take him into your hand then, the skin of his cock warm against your palm. Another neat trick of the American vampire: warm-blooded. Your skin must feel ice cold against him, but you think he likes that. Max cants his hips up the slightest bit. He’s hoping you won’t notice. Unfortunately for him, you do.
Pulling your hand away, Max groans at the loss of touch. His cock stands at attention, waiting for anything you’re willing to give him. With an open palm, you slap it length-wise. Max draws in a sudden breath, hips jumping.
“Mommy, please. I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s fine,” you say with the shake of your head. “Every time you misbehave is just extra time you have to wait. So…one.”
“Mommy—” Max begins.
“Don’t make it worse for yourself, Maxxie.”
You go back to stroking him with light hand movements, watching Max bite his tongue. You pinch the skin at his shoulder and watch his arm jerk away. It makes you laugh.
“You don’t like a little bit of pain?” you ask.
“No,” he says.
Your palm is slick with his precum, lubricating every slide of your hand. Picking up the pace a little bit makes Max part his lips in a moan. When his eyelids flutter, you scrape the nails of your other hand against the skin of his thigh. His breath catches in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling.
“You know what? You’re a terrible liar,” you say.
“I’m not lying, Mommy. I promise,” Max says. Your hand is still on him. His eyes are glued to your face when they open again, resisting the urge to look down at where you two touch.
“Yeah, you are,” you singsong.
You scratch at his thigh again, feeling the skin break. There’s something about digging your nails in and feeling blood and tissue underneath that just does it for you. You rub the pads of your fingers into the scratch, coaxing blood from the wound. Smeared red, you bring those fingers to your lips to savour.
“Fuck.”
“A bad word? That’s two.” Max throws his head back against the metal of the headboard with a light thunk. “You like it. I can taste it,” you say. “Like it when I hurt you a little, huh?”
“Mommy,” Max pants.
“Baby, it’s okay. No shame in that.” Moving closer to his ear, you hum. “It’s alright being mommy’s little pain slut.”
The words elicit begging from the man beneath you, a desperate string of pleasepleaseplease filling the air. You know he’s close. It doesn’t mean much to you.
“No baby.” You slow your hand down, pumping his cock languidly as it leaks across your fingers. “We’re not done yet.” Getting a grip at the base of his length, you squeeze him. He sighs hard through his nose as the building fire in his gut dulls to an ebb.
“This isn’t fair,” Max complains.
“Mmhm,” you purr, cheek to cheek now. “You think that bad boys get fair?” Nuzzling into the warmth of his skin sends a shiver down your spine.
“I’ll be good, I promise,” he says.
“I don’t believe you.” So close to his body, your mouth waters at the smell of him. You lick at Max’s jaw, trailing your tongue along the column of his throat before reaching his shoulder. “You want to be a good boy? Let me take a bite.”
“Mommy—”
“Maxxie.”
He takes a deep breath and nods, giving you permission. First you mouth at the skin, feeling it against your lips. Reveling in his heat. You resume the pace of your hand jerking him off, the hard lines of his shoulders relaxing. Max’s cock is wet and sloppy between the two of you, bright red and probably aching. Just how you want him.
The bite you take is small, flesh spongy between your sharp teeth. It’s soft in your mouth, sliding between your tongue and palate when it goes down easy. Max bleeds, a dribble spilling into a small stream across his chest and down his arm. You lick at the crimson, letting it pool in your mouth as you perch your lips over the wound.
His blood slides to the bed, soaking white sheets a dark red. In another life, it would be a bottle of Zinfandel carelessly spilled—a waste of the best wine in the world. In this life, Max is the only vice you need. His flavour, the flow, that potency. The taste of Max Phillips on your tongue makes you lightheaded. Plasma and platelets, sure, but so much more. It’s heady and raw; the tang of a rough fuck and a sweet kill.
That rush of ending a life. Holding someone’s soul in your hands and snuffing it out. You can feel every life that he has taken, theirs for his own immortal one. It’s their blood, truly, but all of it has been mixed up and ran through Max’s body enough to make it uniquely him. What better high is there than ravaging and killing the man who kills, and knowing you get to do it all over again?
You ask, “More?”
He says, “Yes.”
So you take another bite, and another. All of them surface wounds. They will heal and scar. His body will knit itself back together all for you to tear him apart again. Just the way you like it. The way he does, too.
You deny him twice more of his release, tutting carefully as you watch Max reel back from the edge over and over. Your hand on his dick must hurt more than the biting or the denial now, but he hasn’t told you to stop.
“Mommy, I can’t,” he shakes his head. “I can’t, I can’t.”
You love reducing such a smug and self-assured creature to a sniveling little boy.
“Do you want me to stop?”
A cry tears itself from his throat, your hand still moving quickly. Blood has pooled in his lap, streaking across his hips and thighs.
“No, I just—I can’t,” he snarls. Max’s face morphs into that distinguishable frightening form. His true self. That doesn’t scare you, though.
“You can and you will, baby. You’re almost there. So close. You’re doing so good for mommy,” you say. Kissing his cheeks, you can’t help when your tongue darts out to catch a tear that falls. “What do you need?”
“Kiss me. Please,” Max says. His words come out breathy, light gasps punctuating each one. “Tell me you love me.”
“Aw, Maxxie. Of course I love you. You look so pretty like this.”
Pressing a peck to his nose has Max melting. He leans his torso against you when you finally connect at the mouth. The kiss is soft and slow, the exact opposite of your hand around his length. You slip him your tongue, letting Max taste himself. He moans into your mouth before he pulls away the slightest bit.
He’s breathing against you, still trying to participate in the kiss as he falls off the edge; as you push him. He cums quietly, only a low whimper and heavy breathing to show for it. His spend is sticky across the back of your hand. It dribbles down to your wrist. One liquid mixes in with another, semen and gore staining the both of you.
You cradle his cheek with the messy palm of your hand. The haze in his eyes clears and Max refocuses, looking at you.
“There’s my baby,” you sigh. “Do you feel good?”
The wounds have started to clot, flow slowing as blood dries over his skin and yours. He nuzzles into your cold hand.
“Feel great,” he smiles, and you can tell that he’s back to himself.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?” you ask.
“Just a minute,” Max says. He puts his arms around you, holding you tight and pulling your body into the mess. Blood smears against your clothes, but you could not care less. “Thank you. I love you.”
You can feel his words thrumming in your veins.
tagging: @beskarandblasters @covetyou
#max phillips#max phillips fanfiction#pedrostories#bloodsucking bastards#max phillips x reader#50 followers#gin 🥂
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