Sunday Seven: September 19
In an effort to read more fic and support more fic and get through my massive to-read list, I wanted to do a post once a week to hype some stuff I’m liking.
And, because I like a theme and want to love up all my boys, each Sunday will list one fic featuring each of my favorite boys--Din, Ez, Pero, Jack, Javi, and Frankie. I know there are amazing fics out there featuring other characters, (which is why I’ll keep the seventh spot open for wild card), these are just the boys I love reading the most and occupying the most real estate on my to-read list.
💖indicates love for soft
🔥indicates spicy stuff
DIN: The Diner by @nolanell 💖
Well this got me right in the soft spots. Modern AU with sheriff!Din and officer!Vanth and it is sweet as the pie I'm sure they serve at this diner.
EZRA: Sacellum by @insomniamamma 💖
Five things. There's a moment of pure anxiety in this that is just brilliant. Protective!Ezra comes with his own warning. Sharing a pod at night with Ezra and Cee is kind of my idea of heaven. The end moment is kind of my favorite thing this week. And J, as always, is a very very good writer.
PERO: The Hedge Witch and the Mercenary by @grogusmum 💖
I love a good soft Tovar fic. Oh to be a hedge witch in a little village selling tinctures and herbs and be followed home by a curious mercenary. To smile your way into his heart. To fill his sleep with pretty songs.
JACK: Crimson Rose by @brandyllyn 💖
I love a good soulmate AU, and this is a good soulmate AU. In this instance, you're marked whenever your soulmate is harmed. The marks manifest as flowers and when your soulmate's a Stateman...well, you're bound to be covered in a few.
JAVI: Tracing the Route by @clan-djarin 💖
This is gorgeous. Soft, mutual pining, Javi being his doe-eyed self, not being able to leave you...it's just pretty. And written heartbeat by heartbeat, visual by way of the want. I love this.
FRANKIE: What’s Left When All That’s Left Is You? by @imtryingmybeskar
This is a real amazing kick in the gut. This is Frankie on a bad day, dealing poorly with his addiction, which is his way of dealing poorly with his PTSD. It's hard to see him hurt this way. But the writing is so brilliant. It's worth the hurt to want better for him and wonder if it will ever really come..
WILD CARD - MAX PHILLIPS: Airport by @honestly-shite
So when Max says he loves you with a sticky note...that's totally a Max move. But then. Maia takes this cheesy ass dude and a cheesy ass premise AND MAKES IT ANYTHING BUT. She just made me yearn for this brat and I don't think I'm ever ever going to forgive her. Just beautifully done.
18 notes · View notes
Pedro Pascal. Behind the Scenes
1K notes · View notes
PEDRO PASCAL as bloodsucking bastard Max Phillips
BLOODSUCKING BASTARDS (2015) + letterboxd reviews
dir. Brian James O'Connell
1K notes · View notes
Pedro Pascal in Bloodsucking Bastards
720 notes · View notes
max phillips + hands
699 notes · View notes
Bloodsucking Bastards, 2015.
648 notes · View notes
BLOODSUCKING BASTARDS | 2015
654 notes · View notes
it's about the ✨hand✨
requested by @onlypedropascal
1K notes · View notes
Pedro Pascal Characters + TROUBLED BIRDS
2K notes · View notes
Pedro Pascal Appreciation Week 2021!
Day 1: Favorite Pedro character
Actual dork and annoying bastard man Max Phillips
601 notes · View notes
Max Phillips x f!reader
[no use of y/n]
Summary: You have to leave Max for a while.
Once Bitten :: Twice Shy :: Safety Third : Forever
Rating: Hella explicit like whoa.
Warnings: language. phone sex. dom/sub dynamics. masturbation. blood and biting. Max being Max.
A/N: This is a part one of a three part series that theoretically can be read on its own. However, it is intended to be in the same universe as (and after) my three other Max fics starting with Fringe Benefits.
Also, I am removing my ‘I only do happy endings’ promise for this series. I’m not saying it will be sad. Just that I don’t know. Max does what Max wants at this point.
"Two weeks?" Max whined, chin propped on the back of the couch while he watched you putter around the kitchen. "That’s way too long, make it one."
You sighed, glancing at him over the stack of mail you were holding. "Three days to prep for the surgery, three days of hospital stay, and a week of needing to be taken care of - I can’t rush an organ transplant baby."
"Why does she need you?"
You crossed over and dropped a kiss on his forehead, deftly avoiding his grasping hands. "Because she’s my best friend. I was supposed to stay for the whole month -"
"-but her mom’s coming in for the second part," you finished.
"But what am I supposed to do?"
Yeah. That was a problem. "You said once you can go two weeks without. And I can do a donation, leave you some-" He made a face and you stopped, raising an eyebrow.
"That won’t work," he explained. "I’m not sure how this whole thing does work but it has something to do with transferring your life force to me. Won’t work on stale blood."
"Huh." You’d never really thought about it, honestly. "Well," you hesitated, hating having to make the offer, "you could find someone else to drink from."
"Ugh," he pulled a face. "They wouldn’t taste as good as you."
You smiled at him fondly from the kitchen. "But if you can’t go two weeks without-"
"I can go two weeks, it’s just not pleasant," he pouted.
You frowned, moving closer. "What’s it like?"
Max’s lips pursed, his cheeks hollowing and highlighting the high arch of his bones. "A headache at first, I get cramps," he clutched a hand to his shirt, "across my chest. I’ll get tired… short tempered." It sounded an awful lot like PMS but you didn’t point that out. "I’ve never let it get past that, I’m told it’s not very pretty."
You ruffled a hand into his hair and in one quick motion he pulled you across him and into his lap. His lips trailed over you and by habit you tilted your neck to expose your veins better.
"Don’t want you to go," he mumbled, teeth scraping over your skin.
"I wish I didn’t have to," you sighed, "for a whole host of reasons. But I’ll be back soon."
"Ten days," Max demanded. You chuckled and slid your fingers into his hair, upsetting the style he’d spent half the morning perfecting. He jerked away from you and glared, grunting and trying to shrug your fingers off.
"Two weeks." You ignored his efforts, using his hair to pull his face down to yours. "And I promise I’ll show you exactly how much I’ve missed you when I get back."
"Oh?" He was interested now, one eyebrow arching up and a grin tugging at his lips. He pulled you closer, nuzzling along your cheek. "And what might that look like?"
You whispered your response into his ear, not remotely surprised when he groaned and flipped you down into the couch, ripping your leggings off.
Max was nothing if not predictable.
"Come home early."
His voice on the phone was low, persuasive. You knew that under different circumstances he might have tried a compulsion. You wondered if it would even work on the phone.
"Rachel just got out of the hospital," you pointed out. "She can barely get to the bathroom on her own."
"Ew, I don’t want to hear that."
"One week," you sighed. "How you doing?"
Fuck he sounded pathetic. You had to stifle a giggle. "Oh? Pobrecito."
You could see his face clearly in your mind, the purse of his lips and his eyebrows drawing low. "I’m literally starving to death and you’re mocking me."
"I can’t do anything to help you from here," you pointed out.
"You could make me feel better."
You had a guess where this was heading. "Oh?"
"What are you wearing?"
Yep. Score one for you. Predictable Max. You looked down at your long-sleeve pajamas with the sushi on them. "Panties."
He groaned. "Nothing else?"
Rubbing your feet together in their fluffy flamingo socks you assured him, "Nope. Just me and my little red panties."
He hung up. The phone in your hand gave a soft beep and you stared at it, mouth agape. He hung up on you. What the absolute-
The screen lit up again, a video call request from 'Count Maxula.' Oh. Oh.
You sprang from the bed and pulled your shirt off as quickly as you could, stepping on the toes of your socks to yank your feet out of them. Pants and underwear followed as you scrounged in your luggage for - there. Thank fuck you’d actually brought them. You dove onto the bed, bouncing a little as you picked the phone up and tried to arrange yourself sexily on the pillows.
"I wanna see."
You angled the phone carefully so it only showed your face and a sliver of your shoulders. "See what?"
"Don’t be coy," his face was stern, his jaw clenched. "Show me."
He didn’t look too good. His skin was pale, his eyes sunken in a little. You could tell he was on the couch, recognized the throw pillow behind his head. Adjusting your position on the bed slightly you reached up and switched cameras. The corner of the screen, your view, became all legs and the bright red splash of your panties. You had a perfect view of his reaction, the way his lips parted slightly and then he bit down on the lower one.
"Baby you look so hot."
You smiled, switching the camera back. "What about you? What are you wearing?"
The view changed instantly, from his handsome face to his groin, his cock straining against the placket of his trousers. One of his hands reached into frame, cupping himself and rubbing his palm over his length.
"Oh Max," you sighed.
"I told you I missed you."
Your face was probably identical to his, a look of longing passing over it as you watched his hand work himself through the fabric. Unconsciously you licked your lips and Max’s groan echoed in your ears.
"You miss me too, baby?" You nodded and the view shifted back to his face. "You miss my cock?"
"You been getting yourself off without me?"
To be honest you hadn’t even tried, but that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. "It’s no good without you."
That smirk. The one you wanted to slap off of him. He looked better suddenly, like your answer had given him a little bit of life. "Maybe you just don’t know how to touch yourself right. You want some help, sweet cheeks? Want daddy to tell you how to touch yourself?"
You froze, glaring at him. "We’ve talked about that, Max."
His smirk turned into a pout. "Not even over the phone?"
That put-upon sigh again. "If you really liked me you’d call me daddy."
"I let you do all kinds of things to me," he was really killing the mood for you, "but I draw the line at that."
Even through the phone, he could tell you were getting annoyed. "Okay, okay. No daddies." His voice dropped an octave lower, "What about sir?"
Your thighs pressed together, a sudden bolt of heat rocketing through you. A stuttering breath escaped and Max’s smirk was back.
"Oh we’re in the mood to be a little submissive tonight are we?" He was practically growling now. "Do you want to be a good girl for me?"
He never let you live these moments down. Then again, he was so good at it. "Yes."
A clench again, a rush of wetness. "Yes sir."
"Good girl." He chuckled and sparks of electricity went through your body at the deep, throaty sound. "Let me see your tits." You reached for the camera but he tutted, stopping you. "No, don’t switch the view, I want to see your face too."
For a moment you hesitated. This was not going to be a flattering angle. You’d have a double chin at the very least. But Max didn’t let you get caught up in your thoughts.
"I miss those perfect tits," he purred. "Let me see them."
You moved the phone down, shifting so you were sitting up more. You tried to ignore how you looked, just concentrated on the hungry look on Max’s face. His lower lip pushed out, a frown pulling the corners of his mouth down. "All my marks are gone."
With your free hand you lightly touched your breast. "There’s a couple of faint ones left but yeah…"
His pout faded into a stern expression. "Did I tell you you could touch yourself yet?" You lifted your hand away immediately and he nodded, "That’s a good girl." He looked thoughtful for a moment, "Is there somewhere you can put the phone? I want you to have both hands free."
There was a dresser nearby and you propped the phone up there, grabbing your headphones at the same time. You laid back down, tucking them into your ears, and heard Max chuckle. "I’m not the one you need to worry about being loud."
Oh god, this was so much better, his voice right in your ear. Echoing through your head and winding its way through you. You glanced at the phone and checked he could see you - just from your knees to your face but it would have to be enough.
"Run your fingers down your torso," his voice was low, rough in your ear and you complied immediately. Goosebumps chasing the light touch on your skin. "Now up, between your breasts, caress your neck for me."
You could feel your heart beating erratically, the warm pulse of blood you were more aware of now that you had been with Max.
"Look at all that pretty skin," he moaned. You heard a zipper on his end of the phone, could imagine exactly what he was doing. "Not a mark on it, untouched…" he grunted and the frame shifted slightly. You’d bet everything you had he was stroking himself. "Arch your neck for me pretty, show me what I’m missing."
You did, continuing to run your fingers along the smooth skin, scraping your nails until you were biting your lip and making soft whimpering sounds.
"Now tease your nipples. No, leave that hand where it is - use the other. Just barely touch yourself. Does that feel good?"
"Yes," you gasped out, arching your chest into your own hand.
"Good girl. You’re such a good fucking girl for me." Through your headphones you swore you could actually hear him spit into his hand, hear the sound of his hands on his cock. "Now I want you to squeeze your nipple for me. Hard. Don’t stop until you can’t take it anymore. I want it to hurt. Can you do that for me?"
It was obscene how much his voice was turning you on. You closed your fingers around your nipple, pinching until tears welled in your eyes and you let go with a sharp sound of pain.
"Is that pretty little cunt dripping for me yet?" You reached down and pressed your fingers to your panties, moaning at the slight relief when you found your clit through the fabric. "No." Max’s voice was harsh, snapping your hand away. "I didn’t say you could touch yourself there yet, did I?"
"No sir," you mumbled.
"Disobedient girl," he tutted. "It’s a shame I’m not there to punish you." He laughed softly, "Remind me when you get home."
"Now spread your legs, show me how much you miss me." Another soft groan from him when you dropped the leg nearest to the phone down, tilting your body so he could see you. "I think it’s time we got rid of those panties don’t you?"
You slid them off without a second thought, dropping them off the bed and onto your sushi pajamas. With no instructions coming from him you laid your hands flat on the bed. Waiting. You could see his face, studying you, his lips slightly parted.
"I miss how you taste, baby. Why don’t you taste yourself for me?"
Reaching down, you slid your fingers through your dripping heat, stroking over your clit for just a moment. Not long enough for him to scold you although you saw the small smile on his mouth acknowledging he noticed. He moaned when you licked at your fingers and your own echoed his.
"You want to touch yourself?" His voice was hoarse, his nostrils flared like he was trying to scent you from hundreds of miles away.
"Yes please." After a beat you added, "Sir."
He groaned and then smiled at you. "Pet that pretty little cunt then."
You barely waited for him to finish, dipping your fingers between your legs and rolling your nipple with your other hand. Your clit was aching and at the first touch your body jolted. Through your headphones you heard him speed up his own stroking, the soft noises of his hand moving faster.
"How does it feel?"
"Empty." Your voice was a whine but you couldn’t help it. Hearing him stroke himself was driving you wild. "I want you here Max, I want you inside me."
He cursed, his eyes glued to his screen. To you. "Me too baby, me too. You wanna come for me?"
Your fingers circled faster. "Oh fuck, Max!"
"That’s it baby, fuck you look so good. If I was there I’d fuck you until you couldn’t see straight. Fuck you so deep you could taste me. Is that what you need? You need my cock pretty girl?"
Your back arched from the bed and you had to bite your lip to keep from crying out.
"Look at you. If only you could see yourself. Fuck. Want to fuck that mouth while you play with yourself."
"Bite that pretty neck while you bounce on my cock."
"Bend you over the couch and-"
You didn’t hear the rest. Blood rushed through your ears and you started to cry out, quickly clamping a hand over your mouth. Pleasure shot through you, consuming you. Vaguely you heard Max cursing, groaning, his face contorting on the small screen. You kept rubbing, letting the orgasm go on and on until you were so sensitive you had to stop.
Max’s dumbstruck whisper pulled you from your hazy thoughts and you turned your head towards the dresser, dropping your hand from your mouth and giving him a wide smile. "Hi."
"Hi," his voice was earnest, his eyes wide. He huffed a laugh and ran a hand over his face. "Jesus, hi."
"You’re pretty when you come," you sighed, sliding off the edge of the bed to grab your phone before collapsing back into the pillows.
A genuine smile lit up his face, "Takes one to know one."
"I don’t think that makes sense."
Laying on your side, you rested your phone against your arm and felt your eyelids getting heavier.
"You going to sleep on me?"
"Haven’t been able to since you left."
Your eyes opened and met his. "I’ll be home soon. Promise." You yawned, "Stay on with me until I fall asleep?"
You were supposed to drive back tomorrow. Were supposed to be able to see Max and hold him close to you and smell that weird scent that clung to his cold skin. Maybe lick him a little - you knew he was planning on licking you.
But you weren’t.
"Rachel’s mom can’t come for another week. And I can’t leave her here." The phone was cradled between your ear and shoulder while you rummaged through your friend’s fridge.
"I will literally die without you," his voice on the phone was strained. He wasn’t being cute, he was dead serious.
"I know." You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "Max… you should go find someone else. You have permission, for what it’s worth. If that’s… what you’re waiting for." He groaned and you sighed again. "Max please, I hate seeing you like this. It’s okay. Do… do what you have to do."
"They won’t taste as good," he complained and you couldn’t help but smile at his petulant tone.
"Well then I don’t have to worry about you leaving me for some leggy blonde who tastes like Skittles."
A low laugh caressed you over the phone, "If I can find someone who tastes like Skittles I might leave you."
"Yeah," his voice was soft. A hesitation and then an even softer, "Miss you."
"Miss you too."
"It won’t be as good."
"How could it be?"
"Max?" You called out six days later, dropping your bag by the door. "Max I’m-"
He came out of nowhere, lifting you up against the wall by your hips, his nose nuzzling in your neck as he breathed in deeply. "Missed you."
You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, hiked your legs around his waist. "I missed you too." He felt lean beneath your palms, the clamminess of his skin evident even through the grey t-shirt he was wearing. "Max are you-"
"I need you," he murmured, teeth already sinking into your neck. You sighed into the wall, letting your head loll to the side while he licked at your skin.
"Why didn’t you find someone else?"
"Couldn’t," he growled, "needed you. Only you."
He sucked and you saw stars, mouth parting on a soundless exhale. For once he wasn’t feeling you up, just drinking from the slow trickle of blood in your neck. It must have been a really rough few weeks for him.
He shifted slightly, biting you again right next to the first set of marks. He groaned and you arched your neck slightly to give him better access. His teeth were still inside of you, and you felt his fangs scraping against something inside of you that made you lightheaded.
A trickle of warmth trailed down your clavicle. Max was moaning, his mouth latching onto you even harder. You could feel your pulse in a way you never could before, pounding against his lips, behind your eyes…
Something was wrong.
You started to feel dizzy and tried to push at his shoulder but your hand was limp. It fell into the crook of his arm, caressing the hand that was cupping your jaw and holding you still for his hungry mouth.
"Max stop…" Your voice was a reedy whisper, barely audible.
But he didn’t. The vampire you trusted with your heart, with your life, fed from you like he was going to take every last drop from you and then some. You felt the darkness seeping in around the edges of your vision. So this is what it’s like, you thought before it claimed you entirely.
If you want to be tagged in the other parts please use my Taglist Form (you can choose just Max)
@pascals-cat, @hotspacepilots , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @amneris21 , @writeforfandoms , @yaachtynoboat711 , @Pedrohoe04 , @gingersnappe-9 , @carbonated-beverage , @salome-c , @dihra-vesa , @artsymaddie , @withakindheartx , @punkerthanpascal , @evildxad , @sunfairyy, @nabootycall , @ohhersheybars, @Silverwolf319, @hdghty, @pasckles, @bestattempt, @Stevie75, @xxxroxsxxx, @petersunderoos96, @mssarahpaulsooonn, @sherala007, @jitterbugs927,@spacedadmando, @eternallyvenus, @frietiemeloen, @adalanta, @librariantothejedi, @i-neverasktwice, @selfishpresley, @moonlightburned, @frenchyjuju, @yllwtaxi, @jedi-mando , @heartofjakku, @seececerun, @ludditereformed, @thirdtimesthecharm, @javierpinme, @kesskirata, @mamacitapascal, @supernaturalgirl20, @thirstworldproblemss, @bestattempt, @greeneyedblondie44, @daddymando69, @martellthemandalor, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @flower98child, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @sarasapen, @the-finalfrontiier, @janebby, @mstgsmy, @sleep-tight1, @lostinwonderland314, @Stevie75, @astoryisaloveaffair, @jasterslegacy, @practicalghost, @one-hell-of-a-disappointment, @giselatropicana, @taticalsparkles, @tobealostwanderer, @huitzilinthebudgie3,
Pedro Pascal Taglist
@killyspinacoladas , @im-like-reallythirsty , @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage , @midnightamy, @floraandfrost , @astoryisaloveaffair , @pretty-brown-eyess , @fastandfeminist , @djarinsmorales , @hayley-the-comet , @ionaboner , @likes-good-reblogs-even-better , @cannedsoupsucks , @the-feckless-wonder , @jediknight122 , @borderlinedindjarin, @bestinbeskar, @mcueveryday, @who-would-want-a-broken-heart, @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics, @midnightartemis, @serini-ty, @sarahmilesbendrix, @danidrabbles, @thou-creature-of-the-deep, @christina-loves, @mswarriorbabe80, @gracie7209, @queen-sands, @casssiopeia, @glitzalia, @wyofabdoms, @chronic-nosebleed, @beskarprincessjenny, @ezrasbirdiealso, @evyiione, @sarahjkl82-blog, @freeshavocadoooo, @pedropascaldice, @magikfanatic, @spanishmossmagnolia, @elegantduckturtle, @pintsizemama, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @flowersiinherhaiir, @elegantduckturtle, @captainjaspenor, @hrk-fic-recs , @thirddeadlysin, @randomness501
Max Phillips Taglist
@voteforpedro09, @thirddeadlysin, @allmahfeels , @freyjasamael, @wildmoonflower , @xxxroxsxxx, @mando-abs, @beautyagegoodnesssize, @allthe-ships, @antisocialthat70sshow , @toxicfrankenstein, @fanficmybeloved,
@michaelperry the instigator of this all.
crossed out tags don’t work.
288 notes · View notes
Max Phillips | Bloodsucking Bastards
517 notes · View notes
when you sleep with him for the first time headcanons
note—it gets a little suggestive during oberyn's part, but nothing too crazy. i use sleep here in it's purest form by the way, so enjoy! let me know if you have any ideas for the next one! me and the boys are open to suggestions ;)
- mando has always allowed you his bunk to sleep, whenever you like
- when you stayed with him on the razor crest and watched the kid, he was always more than willing to give it up anytime you needed sleep
- he didn't sleep much anyway, and usually your sleeping schedules didn't overlap
- but boba fett's ship doesn't have much space to begin with, let alone enough space for all of the crew mates he's happened to find recently
- which mean's you and mando, having already been living together and already know each other, were sleeping together, in the same small bunk, at the same time
- he offered to sleep on the floor, or pressed up against the wall
- but you got mad at him for even suggesting such a thing
- there was more than enough space for the two of you to sleep, you argued, though there was barely enough room for one
- it was comical, trying to press up against him, and find a spot comfortable enough for the both of you to lay
- it was jarring to you when he removed a single pauldron for you to rest your head on his clothed shoulder
- you felt like you had violated him in some way, seeing him just the lightest bit more bare than usual
- though you were slightly uncomfortable from the rest of the beskar pressing up into your body, you were lulled to sleep in minutes from the sound of his steady heartbeat
- the cots had never been a long term solution
- that you knew
- so when the morning comes around, and your cot drops your ass on the floor, you wish you gotten new sleeping arrangements the last time you were in town
- you were just wishing it had taken longer for them to fall apart the way they had
- there wasn't much on the green, in terms of furnishing markets
- the cots had been the only barrier between you and the floor, and now, there was nothing protecting you from the frigid, uninsulated ground of your broken down ship
- it was ezra who offered up the idea: put one blanket down on the floor, and use the other one to cover the both of you with
- you took a second to ponder it, thinking of any idea, any reason that could be used to save you from having to sleep next to ezra, the man who had been so warm and kind to you, but you had frozen him out, because of your ridiculous crush on him
- you offered up the idea of just disassembling the cots and using the cloths as protection from the cold
- but this wiseass pulls out the cloth from the cot and his blanket and compares the two, and there's no way the cloth is going to have any integrity making contact with the ground
- so you agree, and when nightfall comes, you're too exhausted from harvesting all day to fight with him
- he puts his blanket down as protection, and you all but collapse on top of in
- ezra does you the service of tucking you in, before climbing in next to you, and you're soothed by his warmth
- not soothed enough that you fall asleep immediately, still unnerved by the idea of sleeping so close to him, hearing him breathe, feeling him move
- but he throws his good arm over your body and pulls you into him, muttering something about the cold
- and your heart melts just a little bit as you fall asleep, pressed up against his chest
- frankie had been upset for weeks after his divorce, which was to be expected
- but everything had been so stressful on him, and you were getting worried for his mental health
- he hadn't been answering calls, he'd cancelled plans with you last minute, which is something he never did, and he hadn't been doing anything for himself, just living in a rut of paperwork, sleeping, eating, and going to work
- so when he calls you up to ask you to go camping with him, you obviously say yes
- it's almost a two hour drive to the campsite, and frankie is fairly quite, which isn't usual, but you get some good music going and some good conversation going, and soon enough, you and frankie are laughing and singing your heads off on your way there
- it's getting dark when you arrive, and you make quick work of getting everything out of his car when he realizes something is off
- "oh no" he exclaims, and you fear the worst
- "what? what's wrong?"
- "I brought the small tent."
- "how small is the small tent?"
- "i brought the four-person tent, not the ten person tent."
- "are you kidding frankie? i'm sure we'll fit in a four-person—“
- "i'm telling you, it's not as big as you think it is, trust me."
- when the tent is complete, four-person is an exaggeration
- it's a four-person tent if the four-people were sardine packed and the size of children
- it's going to be just enough room for both you and frankie to lie down in with your sleeping bags
- but that's for a later time, because frankie has marshmallows to roast and lots of things to tell you after he's been ignoring you for a whole week
- he apologizes and you sit next to him at the firepit on your site, and you listen to him talk, and give him advice, and rest your head on his shoulder
- and when it's late into the night and you two go to retreat to bed, you have to squish up against his broad shoulders that seem so much broader in the small tent
- and when he wakes with nightmares of his fighting buddies and far too many sleepless nights, he pulls you close to him, and falls asleep again, until the sunlight streams through the front flap of the tent far too early in the morning
- that day’s mission was harsh
- it had you spent, not only physically, but mentally as well
- as you lie awake in your bed, you realize you’re not getting to sleep tonight, whether or not you had another important mission that morning
- the hotel bed was creaky and entirely not your bed from home and the air conditioner was broken so it was freezing
- you figure there’s no better time than the present, and you’re well aware whiskey is right next door
- if he’s awake, you’ll ask him to have a drink with you, and if he’s asleep, you can just hop into bed with him
- he’s a deep sleeper anyway
- you’re careful turning the knob into his room, just in case he’s asleep, and you spot him in his bed, on his side, breathing softly, room cloaked in darkness
- you come around on his side of the bed and you whisper his name
- he stirs a little
- you debate going back to your room and just toughing it out, but he doesn’t give you the chance
- he’s up, groggy and hair tousled and in just a plain t-shirt
- “sweetheart? what are you doin’ here? what’s goin’ on?”
- you tell him you didn’t want to sleep alone tonight, and he wipes the sleep from his eyes and squints at you, using only the moonlight to help him see
- “what kind of gentleman would i be if i refused you my bed?”
- this makes you smile, and he lifts the covers for you to get in with him
- you plant your head on his shoulder and drape an arm over his chest, cozying up to him as close as possible
- his hand rests comfortably on your back, and he breathes rhythmically
- and you’re silently grateful he doesn’t ask questions, just lets you curl up into his side ands lets you fall asleep with him there
- it happened in a flurry of passion and kisses, hands roaming his body and yours after a far too close dance with death
- if it had not been for his bulletproof vest, he'd be lying in a hospital or a morgue
- but he wasn't
- his body was warm and so was yours and the ride to his apartment was far too quiet for your liking and his
- it was only appropriate you accompanied him for a drink after such a great victory for the DEA, but it had taken a toll on both of you, mentally
- you more so than him, which is why you ended up drinking much more than you normally would have when you drank with javi
- he tried to laugh away the stress, complaining about his sore and bruised ribs, but the room was still tense
- emotions ran rampant through your body, and when he brings it up, tears start to pool in your eyes at the thought seeing him for the last time, in a suit, at his own funeral he wouldn't attend if he had the choice
- he sets his drink down and pulls you into his arms, holding your waist and cupping the back of your neck, stroking behind your ear as he listens to you cry softly in his shoulder
- he reassures you he's fine, nothing happened to him, and you pull away from him, grab his face, and stare into his eyes
- he smiles kindly at your own red ringed eyes, irritated from crying, as you try to memorize each streak of brown in his own
- it's too much for the both of you, and you pull him into a kiss
- his mouth is surprisingly soft compared to your own drunk passion, and as much as he'd love to take you right then and there on his couch, he knows he'd regret it if you woke up the next morning and regretted it too
- so he entertains the kiss, not that he minds, and leads you to his bedroom
- where the silk sheets and heavy comforter that smell so strongly of javier peña pull you to sleep next to him, faster than you'd like to admit
- missy and your daughter had always gotten along very well
- you were very familiar with marcus, and could even call yourselves friends to an extent
- your daughters were very intelligent little girls, and knew that if they got the two of you talking when you came to pick your daughter from his house, they would have at least another hour to play while you two chatted endlessly about boring adult things
- for missy's birthday party, she had wanted all of her friends over for a huge sleepover, and of course her father caved
- he couldn't say no to her no matter how much he tried
- marcus, the genius he was, figured that if the kids were all under one roof having fun, why not let the adults have fun too?
- everyone was invited
- the kids would have lots of different fun activities to choose from, from swimming, to games in the backyard, and a movie night under the stars outside
- and the adults were welcome to stay, chat, drink, and play adult card games marcus had saved for special occasions
- the night of the sleepover, a dozen children and adults were packed into his backyard, watching some new movie he had rented the missy was excited about
- but it was freezing, and you hadn't expected to be outside for so long
- marcus realizes this and he leans over quietly, so not to disturb the movie
- "are you cold?"
- "oh! no, it's okay, i'll be fine—“ you try to excuse yourself, but he gets up without a word, and returns with a sweatshirt of his
- it fits snugly over your head, and completely eliminated the chill in your bones
- it doesn't take long for your eyes to start getting heavy, and soon enough, you're passed out on marcus' shoulder
- "what if we camp out here for the night?" he suggests, and the kids are more than excited
- the adults know what he's up to
- but they let him anyway
- it'll be great to tease him about later, and besides, you guys are adorable together
- working together with marcus was always a joy
- he was always very respectful and funny
- you knew he had his heart broken more than once in the past, so even though you dropped hints that you'd want something more with marcus, you let him take it at his own pace
- when you dropped by his place that night, with important new documents you had received right before you left work and chinese food, you're ecstatic when he lets you in
- you spend hours pouring over the documents, making sure every single detail was covered and examined, when you realize how tired you are, and how loud the rain is coming down outside his window
- "it's getting really late. i should leave," you say, but marcus stops you
- "you could always, y'know, stay the night if you wanted. i'd let you have my bed."
- you smiled at him, but politely decline, as you wouldn't want to kick him out of his bed, but you yawn again
- "look, you're exhausted, and it's pouring" he points out, "you know most accidents happen by people falling asleep behind the wheel when it's raining?"
- you laugh at him
- "you just made that up,"
- "i did, but you should stay. if you don't want to i totally understand, but you'd be missing out. my bed is really comfortable."
- "is that why you're always late to work?" you quip, and close the files
- he gasps in mock shock
- "that was one time, and my alarm didn't go off," he claims, smiling at you
- he lends you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and you pretend to not see a slight blush on his face when you walk out into his bedroom with them on
- marcus was right when he said his bed was really comfortable
- somehow, in the middle of the night, you two find each other, his face pressed into your shoulder, your arms wrapped around him, and the rain comes down even harder
- "i just need some space from him, is all."
- that's all you had to tell him for max phillips to be on your side, rubbing your shoulder and telling you that all men suck anyway, you didn't need that jerk of a boyfriend to be happy
- well, now ex-boyfriend
- of course he had ulterior motives, and you knew this, but you didn’t care
- your heart wanted someone to watch movies with and eat a pint of ice cream out of the tub with you, and if max was the one who would do that, you’d settle with him for the night
- the way he pulled you into his arms, and pressed his body up against yours, was more than comforting
- he made funny jokes, tried tickling you, anything he could think of to get you to smile for him
- and for the most part, you did
- you were sick of your ex bringing the mood down the way he did, no matter how much you missed him
- the movie has gotten boring a long time ago, but you listened to max’s breathing, and felt his chest rise and fall behind you, and it was enough to lull you to sleep
- and he would’ve woken you up, to take you to his bed, but he was scared you’d leave to go home if he did
- so he took his couch throw, pulled it over the two of you, turned off the television, and settled back as you got comfortable on his chest
- this was a side of max phillips you’d never seen before, and you didn’t expect to see any time soon
- so you relished in it, and let sleep pull you in
- his head aches, and his eye is still bleeding on the plane back to washington d.c.
- the ride back is silent, save for the rumbling of the engine
- he rests his head against the wall of the airplane for most of the ride there, and you take comfort in knowing while he’s asleep, he’s not in pain
- when he starts getting restless, having what you think is a nightmare, you start holding his hand, stroking your thumb up and down his soft skin
- it takes him a minute, but he calms down, and you don’t let go of his hand
- with nothing to do but watch him sleep, you decide taking a nap too would be your best option
- which is when the plane hits a particularly rough patch of turbulence
- he bounces awake, nervous and alert, and you tell him it’s just the plane, everything’s fine
- when you pull him into your shoulder, he takes the opportunity to fall back asleep
- you can feel the tension in his neck just by having him rest his head on your shoulder
- you keep a firm grip on his hand, when your own eyes start to get heavy
- your head rests on his, and the rest of the ride there is smooth and painless
- he had been pursuing you for quite some time
- as the second son of a king, he was more than accustomed to people saying yes to appease him
- he was forward with you, and you were forward back with him, and he liked that
- it was your words that told him you weren't looking for anything long term, that if he were to pleasure you, and you him, he would be nothing more than a simple one night stand
- boy did he prove you wrong
- your legs were so weak afterward, you couldn't bare to get up
- he took incredibly good care of you, squeezing your sore thighs and rubbing your aching muscles, pressing kisses up and down your back, brushing the hair out of your face
- it only increased your attraction to him when he brought in more people, caring for them and having them care for you, and by the time you had finished, you felt as though you couldn't physically go another round that night
- he purred in your ear that every night with him would be a night like this, and you whined back, making him grin and capture your mouth in a passionate kiss
- you didn't mean to fall sleep with him, but all the nibbling bites at your ear and the serotonin coursing through your veins had you spent for the night
- he let you sleep, and even stayed for a while before being summoned for an important meeting
- you made a mental note that eventually, you two would need to do that again, because you slept like a baby the whole night through
- it's below freezing when you settle down for sleep that night
- no matter how much wind the tent tried to keep out, it just wasn't enough
- you're bundled up in all the clothes you had brought with you, the only blanket that could be spared, anything that could try to keep you warm, but nothing’s working
- the cold just bleeds through the blanket and your clothes, into your legs and chest and bones so that you can’t fall asleep if you tried
- you figure the only way you’ll be able to get any rest to be ready for the next day, is to go find a warmer place to sleep
- if the fire’s still going, you’ll rest there
- you shiver as you pick up your things, but your interrupted by tovar, who comes in with a thick fur blanket wrapped around his shoulders
- “where are you going?”
- “i was just going to sleep next to the fire,” you say, trying to keep the chill out of your voice
- “it’s going to be cold tonight. lay down.” he instructs, and you oblige
- he lays the blanket down over you and climbs underneath it next to you, so that your shoulders touch and watch him for a second before he turns over and tries to go to sleep without a word
- you pull the blanket up to your shoulders and you feel ten times warmer already, but it’s the heat from tovar that really entices you
- so you push back against him, your back against his, and fall asleep with the warmth of his muscles against yours
904 notes · View notes
Pedro Pascal in Bloodsucking Bastards
283 notes · View notes
722 notes · View notes
He already isn’t a man of many words, but when he’s desperate to fuck you, he is all grunts and barely groaned sentences broken in the middle by gasps. He can’t string together a full sentence without moaning and starting yet another train of thought bound to go unfinished
Mando’s grip tightens to the point where he kind of feels bad when he sees the way you wince, but the sight of the bruises he leaves behind ignites something dark in him that makes him want to leave more
He also bites. Especially on your neck and shoulder - I mean, he does have perfect access when he’s absolutely railing you from behind.
Right after he finishes and the need has finally been sated, the man all but collapses onto you, presses you into whatever surface he decided to fuck you on. He murmurs praise hot in your ear, his lips ghosting over your earlobe.
And Maker, that rough voice is more intoxicating than the most potent spotchka as he tells you how good you are for him, how soft and sweet and how you take him so perfectly
Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:
Frankie babbles. Says any and everything that pops into his head - he needs you so badly, only you can make him feel this good, so tight and warm and wet, he loves you so much please just let him fuck you
His hands will be all over you. Sliding down your back, up your sides, burying in your hair, gripping at your thighs as if he can’t figure out where he wants to hold you the most. Those hands are almost more convincing than the sweet way he begs for you
He’s the type to pull you onto his chest after and the more you lay on top of him, the happier he is. Climb onto this man and bury your face into his neck - the skin to skin drives him crazy
This man is handsy. Especially if he’s had to travel for a case and has been gone for a while. The first thing he does when he’s through that door is snatching you up off of your feet so you can wrap your thighs around his waist. More often than not, he doesn’t even have the frame of mind to get you into the bedroom. Instead, he fucks you on any other available surface - the couch, the kitchen table, on the rug in front of the fireplace.
Marcus has to have you as close as physically possible or he feels like he’s going to implode. He strips you both down completely naked and lays you on your back so he can press his chest to yours, hitch your legs up and kiss you all over.
That doesn’t mean he’s gentle, though. Marcus… he’s a sweet man. An amazing lover. But he fucks. Even when he’s making love, he’s fucking. It’s intense and all encompassing until all that exists in your universe is Marcus Pike and the way he’s rearranging your guts.
Rough. That’s the only word to describe our favorite smooth talking bastard when he gets so needy that he just shoves you down onto the cot you share and goes to fucking town. Your clothes are getting torn off and if you complain, you’re getting a smack to your ass.
Ezra may be desperate, but he’s still thorough. Whenever is he not? He goes down on you until you’re whining and overstimulated and doesn’t stop until tears are streaming down your face. It’s his favorite way to take you, after you’ve cum on his tongue and fingers. He fucks you hard and fast, teeth bared as he takes in your cock drunk state, pride and lust singing in his veins.
Normally, Javi is all about the build up. He loves the groping and grinding and the steamy, drawn out kisses, but when he’s pent up and desperate? All of that goes out the window. He makes sure you’re ready for him and he makes sure he gets yours, of course, but he wants to get down to business.
Another biter. Everything he’s feeling is so intense. The aggression, the pleasure, the absolute need - so he bites. The sight of you wide eyed and cock drunk underneath him just lights that fire in him that makes him bury his face in your neck and just sink his teeth into you.
After his intense bout of desperation is almost always a round two so he can soothe the marks he left all over you and make you cum on his tongue for being so good to him
The lines of his self control blur until Max nibbles and nips and drags his sharpened teeth along your sensitive skin. He doesn’t outright bite you, not unless you ask him to. But he loves licking up the lines of blood that beads up from the scratches he leaves behind
Max’s words are degrading and full of praise at the same time, his words spat out at you between groans as if he’s mad at you. You know better than to think he’s angry at you, though, not when he’s growling in your ear that you’re such a perfect little whore for him, you’d let him do whatever he wanted to your body, his greedy little thing
Max may present himself as some unloving dickhead, but he curls his body around you afterwards, almost as if to protect you despite being safely in his bed, and whispers questions in your ear, needing to be sure that he didn’t go too far and that you enjoyed yourself
I imagine it happens the most often when he returns from a long journey, exhausted from fighting and sore from riding his horse for endless hours. He’s a man of honor. If his spouse isn’t there to help take care of his needs, he takes the issue into his own hands - literally. But months of having to care for his own pleasure has left him beyond needy, beyond desperate - those are the times that Pero feels like he will keel over and die if he doesn’t fuck you. He may be sore, he may be exhausted, but he isn’t resting until he reacquaints himself with your body.
It’s a fast and hard fuck, all bruising kisses and teeth. He doesn’t bother undressing himself or you. He just unties his pants enough to free his aching cock, shoves your clothes to the side, and goes to town on you, growling in his mother tongue with his face screwed up in a pleasured grimace.
Just like Javier, Pero makes it up to you the next time he beds you. It won’t be long after, but it also won’t be immediately after. This man needs a fucking nap. It’s after that solid nap, after the second round of mindblowing sex that has Pero realizing he can’t do this anymore, the leaving for months and not knowing if he’ll actually make it back to you. He tells you such as you’re curled up against his chest, and the ecstatic way you respond only leads to yet another round of desperate fucking.
1K notes · View notes
PEDRO PASCAL as MAX PHILLIPS
BLOODSUCKING BASTARDS (2015)
256 notes · View notes
PEDRO PASCAL AS MAX PHILLIPS IN BLOODSUCKING BASTARDS (2015)
1K notes · View notes
the retreat, pt. 5
a Max Phillips/fem!reader fic
Rating: E (Explicit, 18+ only!)
Summary: Working as Max Phillips’ executive assistant sounded like a great job until you found out how much he sucks. Literally. (This is an attempt at comedy but also it’s based on a weird-ass movie so I’m sry if it makes no sense)
Warnings: SMUT; unsurprisingly, language, period sex (oral), oral (f receiving), Max being a dumb vampire frat boy, monster face returns, MORE lewd cartoons, tw: blood, tw: biting, tw: drinking blood, if you are squeamish turn back now... pls message me if I missed something important!
A/N: More vampire nonsense, now with added smut™️! Thanks to my writing wife @ezrasbirdie for helping me get this baby back on track and cheering me on always… and thanks so much to everyone who’s been following this wacky adventure… more to come! 😘
Previous | Next Chapter | Masterlist
“Mm, Maxie,” you moan, hips thrusting up into his face, one hand on top of his head. He’s got his mouth buried in the soft curls between your legs and he’s getting soaked in your juices. You’ve never felt this hot and wet before and you glance down—and see his face contorted into the Monster Look and your heart races for a moment but then he nuzzles your inner thigh with his fangs and you hear him moan in a hundred voices, bleed for me, babe, and you feel his fangs poke IN and—
Your phone alarm slams you back to reality. No Max, and an empty bed with you in it, very wet.
Probably a concerning level of wet. Shit.
You peek down to see you’ve bled through your pajamas and onto the sheets.
“Ugh, not today of all days,” you whine as you drag yourself out of bed, balling up the sheets and pajamas and shoving them in the wash as you go to shower.
Max grins as you board the charter bus to the campgrounds later that morning. You’d carefully packed up the boxes for the team-building exercises the night before, and you checked the cargo area to make sure nothing was left behind.
The rest of the office had already boarded, seated two by two, and one seat remained.
Right next to your boss.
“Saved you a spot,” Max says brightly. He’s wearing track pants and a t-shirt that says “#1 BOSS” on it and you cringe slightly.
“Um, was that a gift?” You ask, eyebrow raised as you sit down.
“Of course, b—” he says, catching himself just as he starts to add the endearment. “Of course.”
He gives you a goofy grin, and you can see his fangs peeking out, poking his bottom lip slightly. It tugs at something in your chest which you tamp down immediately.
Professional, you tell yourself. Damn period, making me dwell on feelings.
The bus ride is fairly uneventful. You type away on your laptop, going over the speech Max is set to present later, and he plays Candy Crush on his phone. Eventually, he seems to get bored with that and starts doodling in a small notebook.
“Max, what are you drawing?” You ask, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth in concentration.
“I’m not drawing,” he replies. “I’m manifesting.”
“Gimme that,” you say, making a face and snatching the notebook.
A pair of crude stick figures appear to be humping on a bearskin rug in front of a fireplace.
“Max!” You hiss, handing it back and hiding your face.
“A vamp can dream, right?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.
You chuckle despite yourself, covering your mouth with one hand.
The staff files off the bus as you arrive at the campgrounds, gathering near what appears to be the clubhouse. It’s a little more dilapidated than it appeared in the brochure, but you chalk that up to it likely being a photo from the mid-90s, if the camp guides’ neon t-shirts and high-volume haircuts were anything to go by.
The pair of guides, a man and a woman, jog out to greet you, and their hair and clothes look… identical to the booklet in your hand.
What the hell?
“Uh, hi,” you say, introducing yourself and the rest of the team. “We’re here for our company retreat,” you add, wincing inwardly at the obviousness of the statement.
The guides grin and you notice fangs peeking out of their mouths.
Your eyes widen.
“Um, are you guys-”
“Melanie and Morris Montague,” the woman says with a heavy Romanian accent, nostrils flaring slightly as she shakes your hand.
The man folds his arms and leans forward to speak.
“We run this establishment; the getaway of choice for the discerning vampire looking to hone their skills.”
“That’s nice,” you say, gulping. You turn to Max and tug on his shirt.
“Could I have a word with you in private?” You ask.
Max smiles awkwardly, nodding and following you inside the clubhouse.
“Um, what the hell? This looked like a regular camp, Max! Is it a trap of some kind? I know most of the staff are vampires, but I’m not and-”
“Oh hey, it’s okay,” Max says, patting your shoulder. “They don’t discriminate against humans here.”
You scrub a hand down your face.
“Don’t you think you could have given me a heads up about this?” You ask, exasperated.
Max purses his lips and nods.
“Okay, point taken. We do keep things pretty low-key here, though. There are bear hunting challenges, and um. Arts and crafts?”
“Those two things are not remotely similar,” you say, sighing.
“It’ll be fine, babe. Promise.”
You frown at him.
“What? We’re alone.”
You pout more, scrunching your eyebrows together.
“You’re really cute when you do that, you know.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll make sure you don’t get roped into anything too dangerous. And it’s probably best if you stay in my cabin tonight,” he adds, “what with the, y’know. Blood.”
He nods meaningfully in the direction of your lower half.
“Oh, my god. Does everyone know?” You ask, shoulders tense.
“Yeah, probably. Don’t have to worry about them, really. Other vamps will be respectful since you’re with me. It’s the werewolves at the camp next door we gotta watch out for.”
“The what now?”
Max fills you in on the missing pieces of information about the campground and surrounding areas, and you sigh heavily. To be fair, you realize a place like this wouldn’t exactly advertise that they were catering to a supernatural crowd, but you were a little frustrated to have missed the signs.
You have a quick lunch in the canteen, which was surprisingly normal looking with the exception of an alarming soda fountain that was clearly not dispensing soda, and rejoin the group from the office.
They actually seem to be having fun.
You watch in awe as they climb poles much faster than a human would be capable of doing, grabbing flags from the top, then speeding along a relay track so quickly their feet barely appear to touch the ground.
Max has a whistle around his neck and blows it, summoning everyone’s attention. He hands out his particular style of juice boxes and everyone chows down, listening intently. You shuffle closer to listen to him.
“Great work, teams!” Max says, smiling. A couple of vamps high-five each other.
“I know you can work together, if meeting last month’s sales goal was anything to go by. Now, my wonderful assistant has set up a scavenger hunt for later this evening. Everyone, head on into your cabins for a rest, and she and I will hide the items. We’ll summon you after dark to divide you into groups for the game to begin!”
You spend the next hour or so plotting out locations and hiding items for the scavenger hunt. The prize is a very expensive bottle of champagne, which makes Max wiggle his eyebrows at you playfully.
Returning to your cabin at last, you flop back on the bed, exhausted. You massage your belly, the cramps you’d managed to ignore most of the afternoon worsening.
“I need a shower,” you sigh, getting up to head for the bathroom.
Max catches your hand.
“Something wrong?” You ask, turning to look at him.
He licks his lips.
“You weren’t planning on tossing all that blood down the drain, were you?” He asks tentatively.
“Well, I usually do,” you say. “Hey, how did you know I’m wearing a c- you know what, never mind,” you add, shaking your head.
“Won’t that be... kinda gross?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you kidding? It’s like a smoothie, babe. You wouldn’t throw away a perfectly delicious smoothie, would you?” His eyes widen. “Please?”
“Oh my god. What the hell, I guess it would just go to waste anyway. Uh, give me a sec.”
“Came prepared, babe,” Max says, producing a towel seemingly out of thin air.
“Oh-okay. You mean you don’t just want the cup?” You eye him curiously.
“Mmm, I want you,” Max purrs. “You’re all fresh and warm and-” he sniffs “-your muscles are seizing up, babe. Let me make you feel better.”
“Oh, I see. This is a selfless act,” you toss back, smirking.
Max rumbles, just shy of a growl as he unzips your jeans. His eyes have gone a little darker than usual. He catches a note of anxiety on your face.
“Don’t worry, babe. I’m still me.”
You nod, helping him wiggle you out of your pants and underwear and scooting forward onto the towel.
You’re about to ask just how Max thinks he’s getting that cup out of you when he leans forward and grabs your head with one hand, locking your lips together. He kisses you deeply, tongue rubbing against yours, while his other hand sinks between your legs, fingers slipping inside you and gently tugging the cup free. Before you can react, he breaks the kiss, lifts the cup and tosses it back like a tequila shot - all without spilling a drop.
Smacking his lips, Max looks at you and grins.
Your mouth just hangs open.
He presses one hand against your chest, easing you down onto your back and nuzzling his way between your legs.
“Mm-Maxie,” you whisper, hands sinking into his hair.
“Mmm,” he says, breaking away from you with a smooch. “Love when you call me Maxie,” he adds, settling back down.
He’s very careful with the fangs, to his credit. Max licks up every drop of blood he can reach with his tongue, dipping it inside you and rubbing his face around.
“Oh my god,” you pant, whimpering as he nibbles gently on your pussy, his tongue slipping back out to flick over your clit. He holds your hips, pressing down slightly on your belly.
“That’s it, just relax,” he murmurs, pushing one finger inside your soaked cunt. He adds a second, tentatively, watching you squirm with pleasure and licking every drop of blood that squeezes out around his fingers.
“Has anyone done this for you before, babe?” He asks, lifting his head slightly.
You shake your head, eyes downcast.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says.
“Most of my boyfriends wouldn’t touch me when I’m like this,” you say.
“Most of them sound like assholes,” Max says, leaning back down to slurp at you.
You stifle a chuckle.
He looks up at you, mouth surrounded by a smear of blood.
“Let’s put a smile on that face!” he says, grinning.
You can’t help but burst into a peal of laughter. You sigh as the laughs subside, hands digging into his hair.
“That’s it, babe, really get into it,” he purrs, letting you soak him. His nose, his lips, his cheeks have all turned pink.
“Yeah, you like it?” He asks, tongue back to work on your clit.
“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and he redoubles his efforts, licking and sucking you. You’re not sure how much of the wetness between your legs is blood now, and how much is your arousal. Max’s face is shiny and red, and his eyebrows look… heavier.
“Uh oh,” he breathes, voice changing. “Sorry, babe. Monster coming out a little bit-”
“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” you moan, grinding his face against your pussy.
“Babe, oh shit, you’re a little monsterfucker aren’t you?” He’s grinning-and all his teeth are sharp-but you’re not scared.
“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, hitting your peak as he all but devours your core.
“Oh, shit, that was probably really dangerous,” you say, panting as you come down from your high.
Max’s face shifts back to normal - still covered in blood - and you flop back on the bed.
“Okay,” you say. “Now shower?”
“Now shower,” he says, peeling your shirt and bra off and carrying you to the bathroom.
After you shower together, you slip out of the bathroom and dress, lacing up your shoes to help with the scavenger hunt.
Max has been gone a few minutes when a voice in the hallway catches your attention.
“It’s tradition,” a woman hisses, followed by mumbling that you can’t quite make out.
“You promised us a new one this time,” a man replies. “The little assistant will do nicely. Foolish of you to bring her here, flaunting herself so obviously. We can only hold them off so long,” the man says.
“You know we will have to hand her over,” the woman says.
“Don’t worry,” Max says. Your blood turns to ice in your veins. “She’s not going to be a problem.”
More to come... comments & reblogs always appreciated! 💕
tags (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed, this is a weird one): @221bshrlocked @bubblyani @pedro-pastel @danniburgh @yespolkadotkitty @wyn-n-tonic @mothandpidgeon @artsymaddie @pascalslittlebrat @theamuz @purplepascal042 @maxwell–lord @hnt-escape @hopeamarsu @radiowallet @daisy-plier @sarahjkl82-blog @freeshavocadoooo @charnelhouse @thewayofthemandalorian @keeper0fthestars @raspberrymama @littlebopper96 @poenariuniverse @feministfanboi @waywardimpalawriter @pilothusband @phoenixhalliwell @the-witty-pen-name @colddecember-night @actual-spawn-of-satan @supernaturalgirl @autumnleaves1991-blog @badassbaker @idreamofboobear @sherala007 @a-bang-for-your-bucky @stylelovechild @fangirl-316 @green-socks @mesmorales @daisychainsinknots @beskarprincessjenny @madslorian @absurdthirst @mandocrasis @thisshipwillsail316 @fastandfeminist @hayley-the-comet
137 notes · View notes