Ok, this is @tuskens-mando's fault for encouraging me to write this insane thot that I had about our favorite vampire....
Warnings: PiV sex, filth, like....filth. Vampire fucking. It's a silly thot so go easy on me.....
Max P x female reader / 543 words
~
Fuck, you don’t know how much more you can take.
Your face is pressed down into the silky red sheets, ass high in the air as Max repeatedly slams into you. He’s hitting so deep like this. You’re a handful of orgasms in and Max hasn’t come once. He’s too focused on pushing you to the absolute brink.
You reach back and grab Max’s wrist, his hand currently digging into your soft thigh as he pulls your hips back to him.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Max chants, punctuating each word with a thrust. “I need another one, need to feel that wet cunt squeeze me. Then maybe I’ll fill you up, pretty thing.”
You whine into the pillow as another orgasm washes over you. Max pulls you up against him as he works you through it, teasing your neck with his sharp teeth in between soft kisses.
Somewhere in the back of your mind you worry about holding up your own body weight, boneless from so many orgasms, but Max has no problem holding you up. Your skin is warm and sweaty against Max’s chilled skin; it feels so divine that your heavy eyelids close as you catch your breath. Max wraps his arms around you tightly and eases himself onto his back, letting your body drape over his. His thick cock never leaves your warm cunt.
Your legs are splayed open wide, and Max slowly starts fucking up into you. You moan as he sucks on your neck and plays with your sensitive nipples.
“Open those eyes for me, baby. Look at what I had installed for us,” Max commands.
Your open your eyes to see a mirror on the ceiling, big enough to show the entire bed. Something’s wrong, though. No. Is that old wives’ tale really true?
Vampires don’t show up in mirrors.
You only see your reflection staring back at you, your mouth open in pleasure as your tits bounce with each of Max’s thrusts. Your pussy is gaping, split open on his invisible cock. You can see the way your thighs glisten with your release and the mess you’ve made of the sheets.
Load moans fall from your lips as Max reaches down to rub your swollen clit.
“Look at you, stuffed so full of me. Look at how well you take me. Such a good girl,” Max coos in your ear. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want my cum.”
You frantically nod your head, unable to find the words.
“No,” Max says. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me.”
“FUCK. Max, I need your cum. Please fill me up, baby. Fucking wreck me, PLEASE.” You beg him over and over, nonsense pouring out of you as Max angles his hips just right.
With a roar, Max spills his cum deep inside of you. His thumb on your clit pushes you over the edge for the last time.
Finally, both of you still against each other and Max’s softening cock slips from your folds. “Look at that ruined cunt,” he says reverently, holding your face so that you can watch your pussy flutter around nothing as his cum drips down your thighs. “That’s all mine, isn’t it?”
Max P, aka Black Zone Myth Chant, presents the project’s most adventurous and urgent despatch yet, dosing with the unfathomably layered and immersive Feng Shen. What was initially intended as a one-away project has now morphed into something powerfully undefinable and strangely affective over the course of two albums, Straight Cassette and Mane Thecel Phares, an EP and a mixtape, realising something of a butterfly effect feedback between the gestures of his strangely formed objects and their dilated reception by listeners around the world.
Over the course of eight tracks he renders a phenomenal space where he can best describe the paradoxical, impossible physics of a psychedelic soul, by toying with the listener’s gauge of anticipation, perspective and temporality with a poetic clash of ideas lent from chopped & screwed hip hop and liminal club musics.
It’s music which exists in two states at once, driving yet floating, as with the pull and push of pitched down voices and rolling rhythms in Their Love For You, or with impenetrable density of clarity in the layered dimensions of Kubara, following a line that binds kosmische and dancehall in Under Protest/Telos, to the polymetric harmonic swirl of War Paint (DAPL Resistance), and connects the heat-seeking techno impulses of Ideas In Action, to the centre-less ambient panorama of Feng Jing.
He has been everywhere, and I'm not complaining. I saw some amazing gifsets, then @tuskens-mando encouraged my insanity and I read delightful Max P from @miraclesabound. So here is a totally stupid thotty drabble about a bratty Max P, who is definitely always looking for attention from his antics.
Warnings: talk of drinking blood, sexy things, praise, bratty Max
Misbehaving, subby Max under the cut:
Max has been pressing your buttons all day, testing your limits and pushing for a reaction. You knew when he was acting like this much of a brat, he was looking for attention from you. You had told him last night that you were going to be too busy today and that he needed to behave and leave you alone. Of course, Max didn’t listen. He can’t help that he wants to pester you all day long.
Finally, the rest of the office clears out when the clock hits 5. You’re still working away when Max comes over to your cubicle. “Babe, it’s time to go,” he pleads with you. You shake your head. “Because you wouldn’t leave me alone, I’m still not done. I told you to be a good boy today and you couldn’t,” you chastise. Max pouts and turns your swivel chair towards him before kneeling in front of you, large hands resting on your thighs. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?” Max rests his chin on your leg, looking up at you with sad eyes and pouty lips.
You can’t resist him, not when all you want to do is kiss those lips. You give in, pulling him up slightly so that you can lean down and brush your lips against his. He looks happy but the smile soon fades as you angle back to your computer. Max lets out a frustrated moan before turning you back to where he sits, still on his knees. “I need to finish these reports, Max. If you really want to be a good boy, you’ll eat my pussy while I do it. Then maybe, when we get home, I’ll let you drink from me while I fuck you. How does that sound?” The noise that leaves Max’s mouth is sinful, and he is crawling under your desk without another word. “Good boy,” you tell him, opening your legs to his greedy mouth.
hi laura!!! could we get some single-dad max phillips please and thank you? 👉👈
!! Ok. You wrote the book on single dad max p and I love the AU with my whole heart. Max from the movie? We barely know him. This is just soft, domestic, fluffity fluff fluff fluff. You work with Max P, and he is technically your boss. No power dynamic things, though.
Shelter
WC: 1.7k
Pairing: Max Phillips x reader
Warnings: Maybe one curse word? FLUFF. Domesticity overload.
~
Another day, just like the rest, under the fluorescent lights in your little cubicle. You don’t mind the job most of the time, but the days tended to bleed together.
You are on the phone with Linda in accounting, trying desperately not to lose your patience when you see a little face peek around the corner of your wall. You smile at the little girl with a curious tilt of your head.
“Okay, I’ll have those figures to you this afternoon,” you promise before hanging up the phone. Swiveling around, you fully look at the large brown eyes that are staring back at you.
“Hi, sweetie. What’s your name?”
“Lizzie,” she declares with confidence as she fully steps into your workspace.
You introduce yourself and she holds out her hand to shake. “Daddy said you were nice.”
“Who is your Daddy, hm?” you ask, trying to suppress a laugh.
Your long-time boss, Max, comes walking around the corner and spies the two of you. With a look of relief, he says, “Susana, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are you bothering people?” He looks at you apologetically. Max had been here for almost a year and although several people in your office didn’t care for him because he didn’t tolerate their excuses, you got along with him great.
“Not at all,” you assure him. You look to the girl who is fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “But I thought you said your name was Lizzie?”
“Lisbeth Susana Phillips, four years old!” she says proudly. “Only Daddy calls me Susana sometimes when I’m in trouble.”
You smile up at him. You know Max is stressed about the big presentation to the investors this afternoon, evidenced by his furrowed brow. “Ah, I see. Well, Miss Lizzie, if it’s ok with your dad I could really use some help with my paperwork here. Maybe for the rest of the day?”
A look of absolute relief paints itself on Max’s face and he nods emphatically before turning to his daughter. “Are you ok with that, Lis? Just for a little while?” Lizzie nods and comes over to sit on your lap, not a tentative bone in her body.
The rest of the afternoon is spent with Lizzie “helping” you prepare the figures you promised Linda. This really means that she sits with you and draws dozens of “documents” that she insists will help her dad with his work. You find yourself laughing at her precocious nature and letting her babble on and on about everything under the sun.
Max rushes to your cubicle as soon as the presentation is over, swooping his little girl up in a hug when she makes grabby hands at him from your lap. “Did it go good, Daddy?” she asked.
“So good, baby. Thanks for being so well-behaved, I hope?” He looks at you for confirmation.
You smile broadly. “She was such a help, Max. Also, I am so glad to have met the artist whose work covers every surface in your office,” you joke. The number of scribblings in his office has grown exponentially in the past few months, each one framed with pride.
“Thank you for watching her. Say thank you, Lis.”
“Thank you!”
“Bye Lizzie,” you wave. They leave your little cubicle, and you miss her already.
Not your typical day, as it turns out.
~~
You look forward to those times when Lizzie comes marching into your cubicle, sometimes once a week, and immediately crawls up into your lap no matter what you are doing. She snuggles in against you, asking for the art supplies that you now keep permanently on your desk for her. While she draws, you try and get something done but most of your time together is just enjoying her energy. Max doesn’t even bother worrying about her, he always knows where Lisbeth is going when she takes off from his office.
Max comes to your cubicle with a cup of coffee for you, a new habit he has developed over the past few weeks. He seems to know when you’re having a particularly bad day, and you are having a truly awful morning right now.
“Oh god, thank you Max. You’re a lifesaver,” you say as you take the hot mug from his hand. “I’m about to lose it on Marco, he totally screwed the supply order this month.” You grimace as the hot coffee burns your tongue but notice that it’s got just the right amount of cream in it. Just like you like it.
“Do you want me to kill him for you?” Max says…jokingly?
You shake your head. That would only be more paperwork for you both. “How’s Lizzie doing? Is she here today?”
“She would already be in here annoying you if she was. She’s back with the sitter. Their availability keeps changing, so sometimes I have to bring her in with me. She’s taken a real liking to you,” Max says fondly.
You tap your fingers on the mug as you smile. You’ve come to love the little girl with the wild curls and inquisitive brown eyes, confident just like her father and equally as endearing. Just then, Max’s cell phone rings and he steps outside of your desk area to answer. You go back to your work, still overhearing the exasperated tone of Max’s voice. After a few minutes, he comes back in and leans against the desk. Frustration is flowing off him, and he huffs as he says, “Well, the sitter just said they can’t stay tonight. I have reservations to host our new clients for dinner, and I don’t know what to do with Lisbeth. Shit.”
Immediately, you offer to come to take care of her for the night. Max looks at you with wide eyes.
“Really? You would do that?” He marvels at you.
“Of course,” you reply.
~~
That’s how you find yourself knocking at Max’s door after quickly running home to change into leggings and a t-shirt with a comfy cardigan, new art supplies tucked under your arm. Max lets you in with a thousand-watt smile, still in his perfectly pressed suit. Lizzie is beside herself with excitement, hardly pausing to say goodbye to her father as she drags you to her room so she can introduce you to every stuffed animal she has.
Max fights the very strong urge to find an excuse to stay as he closes the door behind him.
~~
Hours later, Max quietly slips through the front door and looks around at the sight before him. Walking through the dimmed hallway, he sees the kitchen come into view. Wrapped up neatly on the counter are messily decorated cupcakes, along with some folded laundry that he definitely left in a heap before he went to dinner. Turning into the living room, he sees a blanket fort set up with a string of soft lights inside.
His eyes make their way over to your sleeping form on the couch, feeling butterflies in his stomach for what isn’t the first time with you. He moves quietly over to you to pull the blanket up over your curled body but freezes when you open your eyes groggily.
You smile for a moment, soft and drenched in sleep, before realizing where you are and practically jumping up off the couch. “Oh god, I’m so sorry Max. Lizzie fell asleep, and I meant to come put away the blanket fort and I don’t know what happened!” Your words rush out quickly, matching the pounding of your heart.
Max puts his hands on your shoulders to steady you and shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry, you did nothing wrong. How was she for you? Everything go ok?” He left his hands on your shoulders, giving them a little squeeze.
You relax at his touch. “She’s great, Max. She’s so smart, and gentle, and brave. She is such a sweetie. I just love her.”
You sense your own butterflies deep in your belly, having never been this close to Max in such an intimate way. You’re always together at work, a chasm of professionalism separating you. But this feels so, so different.
Just as Max opens his mouth to say something, a booming clap of thunder makes you both jump. It continues on, loud and low, shaking the walls. Almost immediately, you hear:
“Daddyyyy!”
In an instant, Max is gone. He comes out cradling his baby girl in his arms as she cries. “Shh, shh. It’s just a storm, baby. It’ll be over soon.”
You reach out to push the hair from her eyes soothingly, and she turns to look at you, still pressed against her father’s chest. “It’s ok, Lizzie. There’s nothing to be scared of.”
Lisbeth hiccups as her tears slowly subside, and you realize that you’re pressed to Max’s side. You start to move away, but Max reaches out and softly grasps your elbow.
“Lis, do you want to sleep in the blanket fort until the storm is over? We’ll stay with you.” He looks to you with hope in his eyes, and you nod. Swiftly arranging the blankets, the three of you crawl into the little cave that glows with golden light. Lizzie is curled up on her dad, and you lie right beside them both. The space is small, and you worry that you’re crowding him, but he just lifts his arm and lets you curl into him as well.
The storm rages outside, but Lizzie quickly goes back to sleep. Her little face rests against Max’s chest, close to where yours is tucked against him. You smile at how much she looks like him, and how happy you feel in this moment.
“Is this alright?” Max whispers against your forehead. He feels you nod.
“Do you want to stay for breakfast?” he asks with a shameless grin.
“Will you make me coffee?” you counter. Max responds by pulling you tight against him.
~~
Your days aren’t so mundane anymore. Max and Lizzie take up every bit of space in your heart, to the point you think it might burst if you loved them even an ounce more. Days don’t run together like they used to, and it isn’t just Max’s desk that is covered with Lizzie’s artwork.
