#Maxwell Lord imagine

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2023: October 8th

Day 8: Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die, Chastity, Sexual Competition

Max Lord x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Magic stones, ancient inscriptions, DUB-CON, compulsion to have sex, wordless consent, public sex, frantic sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, mentions of biting

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The TV guy has been hanging around for the last few days. Causing a disruption in the everyday workload as the director had pushed for a personalized tour to the CEO of Black Gold since he was promising a sizable donation to the foundation. If there was one thing that could turn your normally stalwart director into a groveling slut, it was the promise of funds. 

You hear a booming laugh and roll your eyes. Unsure of what the joke was down the hall, but you know it was Barbara that was giving him the tour so it couldn’t be that funny. Nothing against her, but she wasn’t the joking type. You look back down at your large magnifying glass, looking through it at the inscription etched into the stone that has been a source of intrigue to you over the past few days since it had arrived. 

When your name is called, you try not to get annoyed, knowing that your boss would want you to place nice. Looking up and plastering a smile on your face as you watch Barbara and the TV guy, you forget his name, walk in. 

Well, she walks. He seemingly saunters in like he owns the place. Perhaps he thinks that because he’s going to write a check, he is an owner. 

His eyes are quick, clever. Far more clever that you would imagine seeing those cheesy commercials he always has played on the tv during Jeopardy. The smile you could do without. It’s screaming slightly sleazy, put on and false in order to get what he wants. The only question is, what does Max Lord want?

Introductions are made, Barabara bouncing almost nervously as you shake the salesman’s hand. Pulling your hand away quickly and turning towards her so she can tell you what she wants. She never approaches you unless she needs something. You aren’t one of the posh, beautiful scientists she wants so desperately to be close to. 

“Can I ask a favor?” She asks, clapping her hands together and giving you a pleading look. “I have a meeting that I can’t reschedule.” Her eyes flicker over to the suit and then back to you. “Could you please finish up the tour for Mr. Lord?” “Please….” He winces. “Call me Maxwell.” He offers with a sugar sweet smile that he seems to think to be a gift. He’s not bad looking, but he would look better if he took the Sun-in out of his hair and lost the boxy shoulder pads. You were one of the few that hated the way fashion has gone. 

“I have a lot to do here.” You protest but Barbara gives you an even more pleading expression. “But…..I can finish it up.” She nearly claps in relief. “After I finish up my work.” You warn seriously. 

“Yeah….sure….” She’s bobbing her head quickly and looking over Maxwell. “That’s great. Well, I know you’ll have a great time, so I’ll just run along.” 

You ignore the flirting and flustering as Maxwell makes a slight scene at Barbara leaving, kissing her hand and making her giggle like she’s five again. Soon enough, there’s blissful silence back in your lab so you can concentrate. 

“So what are you studying?” The question comes after two blissful minutes of silence. Two minutes that you had obviously hoped would be longer. Your eyes cut up from your magnifying glass to find Maxwell looking at the stone curiously. 

“A rock.” You glibly answer, keeping your tone just as dry as you possibly can. Barely resisting the urge to smirk when his grin slides off his unfairly handsome face. 

Maybe you feel a little guilty, but it’s not enough to make you apologize as you look back down at the inscription with a frown. While your Latin was rusty, you swear this is talking about fertility. Just as you tilt the glass down more, a finger appears in front of your magnifying glass, making it look even larger than normal, showing you the grooves in his skin. “What’s-”

“No!” You cry out, knowing that the stone cannot be touched without gloves. The instructions had been very clear in the crate that the stone was packed in. “Don’t touch it!” 

Your fingers collide, both of you touching the vivid jade stone at the same time. The piece seemingly glows at the contact and both of you gasp as you snatch your hands away, knocking over the magnifying glass. 

The next few moments are nothing short of a blur of pain and confusion. Nearly blacking out until a pair of lips smash against yours in the most inelegant, needy kiss of your life. 

“Ohhhh!” Your eyes fly open, finding Maxwell’s face right in yours and his mouth opens, groaning. 

“I can’t- I need-” He doesn’t stop kissing you, his words are just cut off by the tongue sliding into his mouth. Your tongue. The feeling of him pressing against you awakening something base inside you. 

You don’t know why, but you need him. The word fertility flashing in your mind and you push it away because of the burning of your skin and the throbbing of your cunt. 

He apparently feels the same way. Something hard and pulsing starts to push against your hip as he backs you up against the table you had been working at. Nothing but fervent kisses being exchanged, and his hands start to pull at your clothes. 

You never even think to push him away. It doesn’t even cross your mind. Too busy grabbing handfuls of him and ripping open the obvious faux Gucci belt so you can rip those ridiculously baggy pants off of him. 

His hands are bigger, harder than you ever would have imagined when watching those commercials of his. Wonderful on your skin as he slides them up  your thighs under your skirt. Hot as find the edge of your panties and hooking under them to start dragging them down. 

It’s not like you’ve talked about this, but neither one of you cares. Both of you groaning when your own hand dives into his briefs and wraps around an impressive cock. He hides it well under those bulky suits. 

Both of you need each other in a way that can’t even be described. The pain flaring in your stomach drives you, squeezing and pumping his cock, pulling back the foreskin and smearing the bead of precum around the head while he pants into your mouth. 

Your name, not even spoken by him before, sounds like ambrosia as it drips from his tongue. His own fingers sliding through your folds before he is pushing you up onto the table and spreading your legs to step between. 

Your cry would draw any number of personnel if there had been anyone. It had already been late in the day, and then the meeting had drawn everyone else away, leaving your floor empty with the exception of you and Maxwell. “Max!” Your eyes widen when he pushes inside you, filling you to the hilt with a needy, frantic thrust. 

He groans again, twitching violently inside you and gripping the edge of the table behind you. Pulling his hips back and shuddering when he thrusts forward again and moans at how tight you are. 

Rocking the table with how hard he’s fucking you, you can’t do anyting but hold on and whine for him. Every piercing thrust of his cock pushing the pain away and making your cunt feel amazing. Hitting all the best spots, deep inside you and scratching an itch you didn’t know you had. 

Kisses are littered on your skin, his teeth being used far more that you ever thought possible as a man fucks into you as frantically as Maxwell does. Chasing that same goal with the urgency that is burning underneath your own skin. Both of you pulling and grabbing at each other, clothes bunched between you as you grind your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“I didn’t- fuck, it’s so good.” Maxwell rambles. “You’re so good. I can’t - it’s so- fuck.” 

You can only moan in agreement, not even coherent enough to speak right now. Your entire focus on the connection of his cock in your pussy. 

Your body is so sensitive that you are shocked by how quickly you cum. Taking you by surprise as your head falls back and your hands hold onto his broad shoulders. Cunt clenching down around him and the heat of your orgasm rushing through your body and seemingly quenching that fire that had been burning since you touched the stone only minutes before. 

“Oh fuck, oh mierda.” He groans, clenching his teeth and shouting when he thrusts once more, pulsing heavily inside you as he paints your womb with his seed in hot spurts. Panting and whining as he rocks his hips to push every drop into your quivering cunt until he’s spent and collapsing against you and both of you drop to the table top. 

Gasping for air, you try to catch your breath as you roll your head to the side and feel Max nuzzle against your neck, his own breath still undstead. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of the stone. “What the fuck was that?” You ask, bewildered and almost giggly as you look at the fertility stone that had compelled both of you to fuck like wild animals in your lab. 

“I don’t know.” He pants. “But I might need a minute if we do it again.” 

Breaking into a giggle, your hand slides up to pet the hair that you had been snorting at earlier. Maybe Max Lord wasn’t soooo bad. “Hell of a tour, huh?” 

“Fuck.” He chuckles, still not moving on top of you and snuggling into you even more when your fingers scratch his scalp. “The best.” 

[palioom]

anything you want

summary: needy and desperate for you all day, you promise maxwell to help him with his frustrations. but it's a little different from what he had in mind.

pairing: subby!maxwell lord x f!reader word count: 2.9k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n ; some swearing, unprotected p in v, handcuffs, sub!maxwell; teasing, some edging, oral (m & f receiving); deepthroating; face sitting; cowgirl; implied cockwarming a/n: this is my first time writing a subby male character, enjoy!

• masterlist •

“My love, please.” He moaned, arms flexing as he pulled against the restraints on his handcuffs. “Don’t you think I have- ah, suffered enough?”

She shook her head slowly, wide grin on her face as she attached her lips to his neck, teasing her teeth along his skin.

“I’m far from done with you, Max.” She purred, feeling him shiver and his hips jerk up. “You’ve been so desperate for me all day, you can wait just a little longer.”

Maxwell swallowed hard, closing his eyes.

Why had he said yes to this?

To have her handcuff him to the headboard, naked and hard as a rock while she teased and teased and teased him endlessly.

He was insane, but God, it felt good.

“I want you to beg for me, baby.” She said, her fingers running down his soft stomach, feeling the hair that started just below his navel. His muscles jumped at her touch, making her smirk against his skin, kissing up to his ear.

The little sounds he made, switching between grunting and whimpering when her hand came too close to his cock, they were intoxicating to her.

“Tell me what you need, Maxwell, and you’ll get it.”

Biting into his earlobe, she felt how he shivered, heard the groan hitching on his breath. Her hand wandered lower, fingertips just inches away from where he needed her most right now.

“My darling-” His words died in his throat when she kissed the underside of his jaw, the rattling of the handcuffs sounding from above her.

“You’re so sensitive.” She giggled, kissing her way up until she found his mouth, her hands cradling his face as she straddled him, careful not to touch his dick just yet.

No, he had to earn that.

And even if he struggled to right now, she knew that he would be very happy about it again later.

“Would you be so kind as to touch me?” He asked between her kisses, shifting underneath her, trying to get something, anything. “Please, my dear.”

She placed a kiss on his beautiful, big nose before kissing down his cheek to his jaw again, her hands on his chest as she inched further down.

“A start.” She said, biting the skin at the crook of his neck, grinning at the choked sound that left him. “But you can do better, baby.”

Again, the sound of metal against metal, the handcuffs above him as he breathed in deeply.

“My dear, please.” He said, voice strained as she travelled down, her hands running over his sides. It was adorable how he tried. “Please, touch me.”

“I am, baby.” She laughed, kissing his stomach, looking up at him. His eyes followed her intently, as she scooted back, careful not to touch his dick. “Or ain’t I?”

“You know what I mean.” He breathed, hips shifting when she kissed his happy trail, staying there as she peppered his abdomen with bites and kisses. “Please.”

“But I don’t.” She replied. 

Smiling up at him still, all innocent.

God, she was beautiful, even when she teased.

Maybe even more beautiful because she teased.

“Tell me exactly what you need, pretty boy.”

She resumed kissing him, below his navel, over to his hip bones, but never further down.

He squirmed at the name, craning his head.

Maxwell could try and sit this out, but he had wanted her all day already. At this point, it was starting to hurt, his leaking cock so close to her mouth as it throbbed, aching for her attention.

“I want your mouth on me, darling.” He spoke, watching as she kissed lower with a grin, his muscles flexing. “I want your tongue around my- around my dick, please, my dear. Please.”

She hummed, placing a kiss against the base of it, the neatly trimmed hair tickling her as it rested lightly against her cheek.

Just looking up at him for a moment, watching his reaction.

“What else do you need?” She asked, flattening her tongue against the underside of his cock, listening to his whimpers, how they became louder when the tip of her tongue ran over the slit, tasting the precum. 

He looked hot, struggling against the restraints like this, muscles in his arms flexing, the vein on his neck popping out as he set his jaw.

The need and desperation in his eyes as he knew she could stop just as quickly as she had started if he made one wrong move.

“I want to be inside of you.” He breathed, voice thin. This really took all of his strength, his dick twitching as she wrapped a hand around the base, just lightly squeezing.

The thought of her mouth around him was almost enough to make him cum, so worked up and sensitive.

She let the nails of her free hand roam over his hip, seeing the goosebumps appear on his skin, kissing the tip of his dick.

“Where?” She teased, pressing kisses along his cock, all the way down until she licked a stripe up again, repeating her earlier motion. “Say it, I wanna hear you.”

“In- Inside your pussy- Fuck.” His voice broke when she took him in her mouth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, his hips jerking up.

Still struggling against the restraints, his fingers flexing open and closed. The desperation on his face now clear as daylight.

Brows furrowed together, lips slightly parted. His hair a mess.

She hummed around him, the vibration only making him whimper more. Taking him deeper, hollowing her cheeks as her hand worked on what she couldn’t fit.

“Good job, Max.” She giggled when she let go of him for a moment, her hand splaying over his abdomen to keep his hips from moving. “Now beg me a little more while I suck your cock and I’ll give you all you asked for. Be nice and vocal for me, yeah?”

He cursed under his breath, head thrown back for a moment before he looked at her, saw how she took him into his mouth, how her lips stretched around his dick. 

How she took him deeper, all the way until her nose pressed against his abdomen and her throat tightened around him for a moment.

All before she came up again for air, a small string of spit connecting her lips and his cock.

The moan that left him was music to her ears, as was his begging.

“Baby, please. Do that again, please.” He whimpered, seeing her smirk as she closed her mouth around him again, the hand not on his stomach now moving to his balls. “You’re so gorgeous- Fuck, I need you, dear.”

His balls twitched in her hand as she took him as deep as she could again, staying there as she felt the vein at the underside of his cock throb against her tongue.

Damn, he was close.

It burned in her throat, but seeing him lose composure, his hips bucking up into her mouth, his arms fighting against the handcuffs, all that was enough to make up for it.

“You’re so pretty when you’re struggling, Maxwell.” She said with a wide grin when she came up again, chuckling when his hips jerked up into nothing. 

“Dear, please let me-” He was too close to the edge, looking at her lips, seeing his cock twitch right below them.

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

“Let you what?” She asked, drawing her hand away from his balls, crawling over his body. 

When she was level with his head, she caressed his cheek, a little pout of mock concern on her face.

“Talk to me, baby, what do you need?” She asked before kissing him deeply, using his moan to slip her tongue into his mouth.

It took a couple of seconds before he caved. “Let me cum in your mouth, please.”

God, he sounded desperate. How adorable.

“You’d love that, hm?” She whispered, moving back again, wrapping her hand around his cock, giving him a few gentle pumps but stopping right before he got too close.

“Yes, please, darling.” He hissed, brows furrowed and his eyes pleading. The way she built him up just to let him fall again was driving him insane.

“You plead so nicely.” 

With that, she was on him again, bobbing her head as she swirled her tongue around him. And it didn’t take long before his orgasm hit him, coming with a strangled moan as she took him deeper, humming when she felt the salty taste fill her mouth.

The sound of the handcuffs was a constant background noise, and she watched his muscles flex against them, how he ground his teeth together, the way his hips squirmed and pushed up into her mouth as he continued pulsing.

Sweat had built up on his forehead and as he calmed down slowly, small pants left him, looking at her as she lifted her mouth off his softening dick, crawling over him again.

Smiling, she pressed a lazy kiss to his lips, his whole being now less tense that he had been able to let go of some of the frustration. Though, she could still feel some leftover tension.

“Feeling better?” She cooed, brushing back some of his blonde hair, cupping his cheek. “You did so well, baby.”

He groaned, knowing just by her voice that this hadn’t been all.

“Better, but-”

She shook her head. “You’re not done, I know you’re still all tense and worked up and as a good girlfriend I have to help you, right?”

Grinning, she sat up, just looking at him for a moment, seeing how the wheels in his head turned.

She wasn’t quite sure if he was excited or scared.

“You said you wanted my pussy, didn’t you, Maxwell?” She purred, hands roaming over his broad shoulders.

He nodded, swallowing hard, gaze jumping down to where she was already dripping wet, hovering over his stomach.

“What if you eat me out until you’re ready again, baby?” The answer was clear to her already, knowing he would never say no. He loved eating her out, and not being able to be in control might just excite him a little more. “You’d love that, right?”

Maxwell nodded again, this time licking his lips, once again forgetting his wrists were cuffed to the bed, just wanting to touch her.

“Scoot down a little more, let me ride your face.”

His eyes widened but he didn’t have to be told twice, moving down as well as the cuffs allowed, then watching her as she positioned herself over his face.

Sinking down, she moaned when she felt his eager tongue against her, his nose bumping against her clit as he lapped at her. 

One hand gripped his hair, holding him in place as her hips rocked back and forth, the other on the headboard to give her something to hold on to.

“Yes, like that, Max.” She breathed, head thrown back, biting her lip.

God, was he fucking talented at this, sucking on her clit when she gave him the chance before using his tongue to fuck into her again. 

Building her up quickly, making her legs shake as she finally looked down at him, tightening the grip on his hair as the rhythm of her hips became more erratic.

“You’re so good, fuck.” She moaned, taking a glance behind her and seeing his dick already hardening again. “And you’re getting so excited from this, aren’t you?”

He hummed into her and the vibrations let her topple over, whimpering but bracing herself on the headboard.

Almost there, just a little more.

“Max- Please.”

Again he took her clit into his mouth and sucked hard, looking up at her as her breath hitched when her orgasm hit her. Moaning loudly, her hips bucked against his face, and he was quick to lap up everything she gave him, groaning against her.

She truly was beautiful like this, biting her lip and her eyes screwed shut in ecstasy as she rode out the waves on him.

Gathering her breath, she moved off of him, seeing his chin glistening and giggling at the sight, Maxwell breathing hard as well as he licked his lips.

“You’re always so good to me.” She breathed, smoothing back his hair again, then letting the knuckle of one finger run down his cheek. “And looks like you’re ready for your reward, hm?”

Even he had to chuckle at that.

Reward.

“Yes, please, darling.” He said, showing he had learned. His dark eyes following her hips as she moved. “Please, I need you.”

She shifted back, wrapping one hand around his hard cock and guiding it against her pussy, flinching a little as the head rubbed against her clit, still overly sensitive.

“You sound so sweet when you beg me.”

She sank down on him with a groan, bracing herself on his chest as she felt him stretch her open, hearing how he moaned at her squeezing him.

“But you sound better when I’m fucking you.”

Slowly she began to roll her hips, moaning when he brushed up against that sensitive spot inside her.

His eyes went back and forth between her breasts as they bounced, just wanting to reach out and touch them, and his dick sliding in and out of her. A strangled moan left him at the sight, his hips pushing up against her.

“Ah-ah, stop squirming, Max.” She said, stopping her hips for a moment even if she deprived herself. “I’m fucking you, baby, not you me.”

An annoyed and frustrated sigh left Maxwell, trying to keep still as she resumed her pace, going a little faster.

“Let me touch you, dear, please give me that.” He begged, his arms beginning to hurt from the strain as he kept moving them. “Dear, please.”

She smiled, breathless laughter leaving her as she sat up more straight, her fingertips barely touching his chest now. Head thrown back.

How sweet he could beg.

“What do you wanna touch, Max?” She asked, squeezing him particularly hard to torture him, relishing in his whimper and moan. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Fuck- I want to touch your breasts, darling.” He rushed his words, feeling so sensitive as she gripped him tight. “They’re so perfect, please.”

She bit her lip, thinking about it for a moment as she sped up her movements on top of him.

“No.” 

The whine that came from him was more than delicious, and she watched as he squirmed in frustration below her, trying to keep his hips still.

A quiet laugh slipped past her lips.

He looked so good, all flushed and desperate below her. This was something to do more often, for sure.

“Darling, please-”

Yes, he was close, just as she was.

Bending down, she captured his lips with hers, her hand wandering down between them, finding her clit.

“Bet you’d love to do that, huh?” She whispered against his lips with a smile. “Rub my clit? Oh, darling.”

Her tongue slipped into his mouth, swallowing his soft noises.

She kept rubbing tight circles into her clit, when she suddenly clamped around him, moaning loudly and breaking the kiss as she shook on top of him. There was the vague feeling of his cock twitching inside her, filling her up as he moaned and whimpered.

Trying to break free from the handcuffs.

She helped him ride out his orgasm, then slowly stopped, staying where she was on top of him, just lazily kissing him.

“You’ve done so well for me, Max.” Her voice was a whisper as she reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the small key before unlocking the handcuffs around his wrists, letting them dangle from the headboard.

Immediately his arms were around her middle, roaming over her back and just feeling her as they kissed.

“How do you feel?” She asked, wanting to make sure this hadn’t been too much for him. “Everything okay?”

She brushed his hair back, expression soft now as she looked at him.

“Everything’s perfect.” He sighed, cradling her cheeks now. “Thank you, love.”

While it had been frustrating, he enjoyed giving control over to her, not even being able to touch her. It was exciting and different.

“Good.” She smiled, kissing his nose softly. “You were really needy, baby.”

He only chuckled, pulling her closer.

“You think you can stay like this a little longer?” He asked quietly, enjoying how she felt around him, her warmth. 

It was different, but comforting.

“Sure, baby.”

She kissed him again before resting her head against his shoulder with a sigh, hearing him groan as she shifted a little to get comfortable.

“Anything you want, Maxwell.”

[tropes-and-tales]

Hiiiii! I would like to request <<person b trying to cook person a's fav dish>> with Max Lord please. I can see that flashback scene in WW84 with his business Blacc Gold Cooperative, trying to make everything perfect. Get well soon! Thanks so much!!

A rare Max Lord ask in the inbox!

Maxwell Lord knows he’s worthless.

He hides those feelings underneath a glib façade, a blustering bravado.  He talks a good game.  He schmoozes with the best of them.  And yet, when he goes to sleep each night, he knows that he’s nobody special.  He’s nobody of substance; he’s just an empty shell in a slick suit.

And if he was nobody before the Dreamstone, before Black Gold went bankrupt, then what is he now?  

He’s less than nobody now.

He lives in a shitty apartment in Baltimore, and he works a shitty job in a grey cubicle.  He sees his son every other weekend.  His nice cars, his private plane, his fancy suits and giant mansion?  All gone.  

Despite it all, he found you:  his neighbor in his shitty apartment complex, a sweet, gorgeous woman who teaches at the nearby university.  You know who he is, what he’s done…and you still seem to like him.  You haven’t broken up with him yet.

Which is why he’s struggling right now.  It’s your birthday, and the old Max would have taken you on a shopping trip in New York, or flown you to Paris, or taken you out to the most exclusive restaurant on the eastern seaboard.  New Max doesn’t have that option, so he tries his best and plans an entire evening in.

The plan?  Cook your favorite meal.  Use your favorite flowers as a centerpiece.  Open a bottle of your favorite wine.  Then watch your favorite movie on VHS before taking you to bed.  It’s all supposed to be a surprise, but when you walk through the door that evening, the plan is in shambles.

Your favorite meal is a charred mess smoking in the sink.  Your favorite flowers—wildflowers he picked along the river—are limp and already shedding pedals.  He punched through the cork in your wine and ruined it.  And Blockbuster was out of their only copy of “All About Eve.”

When you walk through the door that evening, you find Max sitting on the floor of your kitchen, his head in his hands.

He waits for you to break up with him.  He waits for the words—stupid, worthless—to fall from your mouth the way they’ve fallen from everyone else’s mouths.  He waits for cruel laughter at his pitiful attempt to make your birthday special despite having no money, no talent.  It’s just like those pathetic early days with Black Gold, how hopeful and naïve he’d been, how stupid—

“This seat taken?” you ask quietly, and you don’t wait for him to respond before you sink down onto the linoleum beside him.  

“Rough day?” you ask, and your voice is still quiet, but you’re right beside him.  A beat later and he feels it—your hand brushing his hair away from his face, then a gentle press of your lips to his temple.  Then you settle your head against his shoulder and just…sit.  You just sit with him, neither of you speaking for a long moment.

“Just wanted to make it special for you,” he finally says, and his voice is rough with emotion.  Frustration. Sadness.  Everything bubbling up at once, everything he’s pushed down…it’s all threatening to come out now.

“Who says it isn’t special?”

He scoffs, gestures helplessly around you.  

“You know, my last boyfriend never even thought to make me dinner for my birthday.  So, if I say it’s the thought that counts…that’s the truth,” you tell him.

“The thought means nothing,” he snaps.  “It’s action, results…thoughts are worthless.”

This should make you break up with him too:  him getting snippy and edging against an argument.  But you don’t rise to the bait.  You settle your head against his shoulder again, and you tell him a story about your childhood, how your mother had been in the hospital for your eighth birthday, how your father was away for work.  How it seemed that no one remembered your special day until a girl in your neighborhood—older than you, far cooler than you—saw you crying on your front porch.

“She was a high schooler,” you explain softly.  “Literally the coolest girl in the neighborhood.  She dressed like Stevie Nicks and had a voice like Blondie.  I was just a little dork that no one noticed, but she did.  She was driving past in her beat-to-shit Beetle and saw me sitting alone and crying, and you know what she did?”

“What?”

“She asked me what was wrong, and when I told her, she drove away.”

Max scoffs again.  That sounds right to him.  The world is a cruel place.

“And then ten minutes later, she came back,” you continue.  “She went to Dairy Queen and got me a banana split.  Remember those giant banana splits they used to make?  She bought one and sat on my porch and we ate it together.  She didn’t have a candle, so she held up her lighter and made me blow it out.”

“That’s really sweet,” he tells you, begrudgingly.

You shift your head from his shoulder and you reach out, grip his chin lightly.  You turn his face and make him look at you.

“It’s the thought that counts, Max,” you say, and your voice is more stern now.  “Being seen?  Being remembered?  That means more than any gift or whatever is smoldering right now in the sink.” 

“It’s a soufflé.  Or was.”  As bad as he feels, he can’t help but smile at you.

You roll your eyes.  “Why on earth would you try to bake me a soufflé?  You can barely boil water.”

“I thought—” he starts, and then he catches himself, realizes what he’s saying.  You catch it too, and you grin back at him.

“See?  You thought of me.  You see me.  That’s all I need from you.”

He wants to say that you deserve so much more—diamonds and designer dresses and expensive purses and luxurious trips to exotic locales—but you don’t let him reply.  You lean forward and kiss him, and the feeling of your mouth on his does what it always does:  it pushes the anxious thoughts away, makes the self-doubt melt under the ardor with which you kiss him.

“Now c’mon,” you say once you break away from him.  You stand up and offer your hand, and you help him stand too.  “There’s a Dairy Queen three blocks from here.  You’re buying me a banana split, and you’re gonna eat the pineapple bits because I hate pineapple.”

[dyns33]

Flufftober 24 - Wonder woman 1984

Maxwell Lord x Reader

Everyone was convinced that Maxwell Lord loved Halloween.

After all, Halloween was the most American holiday, one of the most capitalist, which was very much like his job.

Some people who were pretending to be what they were not, who were going through the streets one by one, knocking on all the doors asking for goods to prevent something bad from happening.

Of course, Maxwell didn't like his job that much. He was not always proud to lie, but he did his best to satisfy his customers, his employees and his investors.

Every year he made the joke of showing up at work in exactly the same outfit as usual, stating that he was dressed up as a corrupt salesman who had a gold watch, two houses and a yacht.

He had none of that. He was barely able to pay his bills at the end of the month. But nobody knew that.

Except Y/N.

Even if he had done his best to hide his disastrous financial situation from her when they had met, wanting to impress and seduce her, the young woman was not stupid. It hadn't taken her long to notice that he always wore the same clothes, that he missed certain meals and that he panicked as soon as she asked him if she could come to his place.

           "Max, you know I don't give a damn about your salary."

           "You say that, and you're lovely, and I'm sure you really don't think it's important, but in a few months when I can't buy you flowers on every date or take you to the restaurant, or..."

           "Max." she repeated, taking his face in her hands. "I don't need flowers or restaurants. I don't like you for your money."

           "... It's true that I'm not bad. I'm even good. But I could be better !"

           "Yes, you could be less materialistic." he said, kissing him on the nose.

It was remembering that exchange that Y/N decorated Maxwell's office, expecting him to arrive with pockets full of candy. Even though she kept telling him that he shouldn't waste his money on trivial things, he insisted on giving lots of things to people he met. In return, he was sure to receive their love and admiration.

He really didn't seem to believe this was possible if he was just being himself. It couldn't be enough for people to like him, for Y/N to like him, or for Alistair to like him.

This was the other reason why Maxwell loved Halloween. It was the perfect time to spend time with his son, making him laugh, his eyes sparkling with happiness. Those of the father too, who had remained a big child on the inside, despite his need to be seen as a successful businessman by his peers.

It was a real surprise to see him arrive like every day, displaying his forced smile which barely hid his discomfort, greeting her with a quick kiss before sitting down behind his desk.

           "Oh, you put up the Halloween decorations. I forgot it was soon, it's beautiful sweetie."

           "You can't have forgotten, you love this party."

           "Ah, yes, it's true, it's a great party, I really like this party."

Y/N gave him a long look, but he didn't turn to her, avoiding her eyes and continuing to pretend to work, giggling nervously, using way too many happy expressions to sound sincere.

           "Max. What's going on ?"

           "... I don't have enough money to throw a Halloween party this year."

           "It's not a problem."

           "I... I'm not going to have Alistair this year." he added, biting his lip to keep from crying.

           "What ?! But I thought you were okay with him going to his mom's house for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and you had him for Halloween and New Years."

           "It was what was planned, but in the end his mom changed her mind. She says she's never gone candy hunting with him, so it's her turn, and I'll have Christmas. This isn't so bad, it's good, Christmas, I'm going to save up to buy him all the presents he wants."

           "He just wants to spend time with you."

           "Of course. In two months. He will have grown a lot, it may not be a good idea to buy him a bike, it will be too small for him when he comes."

           "Max."

           "Video games, maybe ? Kids like it, I think. Comics. A horse ! Some..."

           "Max."

           "... I miss him." he muttered, starting to sob. "I would like to see him more often. And... Halloween was our thing."

Y/N immediately hugged him, knowing that wouldn't be enough to comfort him. Maxwell may not have been the perfect father, but he loved his son more than anything. He knew he couldn't see him all the time, he also had to be with his mother a bit, and he couldn't suggest that they do things together, because they were bound to end up arguing, in front of the boy, which was not a good idea.

If he liked Halloween a little, it was only because he could see his son, and that wasn't possible this year.

           "I can remove the decorations if you want."

           "No, no. I don't want to prevent the others from having fun. We can even dress up and go out if you want. Or stay at home watching bad horror movies. We... We do this with Alistair, normally, after the candy hunt."

To not sadden him further, Y/N replied that they had time to think about it, before going to get him a coffee.

As soon as his back was turned, she gradually removed the decorations, to prevent him from getting depressed every time he saw them, while getting ready for the big night.

When it came, being very quiet, Maxwell agreed to put on a ridiculous turtle disguise, while Y/N was dressed as a silly rabbit, and to remain quietly in the chocolate dining room in front of Coraline, after the children had finished ringing their doorbell.

           "It's not a bad movie." he commented as he quickly ate the chocolates. "Alistair likes it."

           "I know." Y/N said mischievously, putting the dvd on stop after looking at the time. "I have a surprise for you."

Then there was a noise in the hall, someone running and a little lion jumping on the couch between them.

           "Daddy !"

           "Alistair ?!"

As he hugged his son, surprised to see him, Y/N quickly went to collect the kid's things and thank his mother, who had agreed to drop him off after the candy hunt. Even though she didn't love Max anymore, she admitted that he wasn't a bad parent, so they could both have a Halloween party with him. She had had the first part, he could watch a movie with him, and reassure him all night if he was scared.

           "Oh, honey, thank you, thank you, thank you !" Maxwell repeated when she came back into the living room.

           "You are the best, Y/N !"

This made her laugh, as they both hugged her before watching the movie. Alistair asserted that he would never go into the world of buttons, with the other parents, because his dad and his second mum were already great. His mum wasn't bad either.

Max tried not to cry with joy.

However, he still didn't understand the message and decided that his son should really have as many toys as possible for Christmas, despite all the patience and gentleness of Y/N to make him understand that it was absolutely not necessary.

[muldermuse]

i have maxwell lord brain rot ok- i couldnt stop thinkin about this all niiiiiiight

ok so max hires you as his personal assistant like before he gets all powerful and whatever

he's really honest about his lack of funds but he guarantees you that he's getting close to a big break and honestly you need anything and the work seems flexible so you can do it. u end up spending a lot of time looking after his son and max is in awe of how you are with alistair and hes developing feelings for you (and you are for him- he's a great dad and its such a turn on)

so as the months go on you end up taking alistair back to your home in the evenings as otherwise he's just at the office, waiting for his dad to finish. you make him grilled cheese with chips for dinner and watch some cartoons on the couch together. the evening gets later and you both end up falling asleep

max has a key and he lets himself into your apartment. he's holding a bunch of flowers and some of your favourite candy as an apology for how much you've been doing for him and his son. like he knows you're doing far too much for him but he loves seeing you and he can't bring himself to ask you to stop. when he sees you both asleep, he feels his heart triple in size

he presses a kiss to alistair's head and then your own. you wake up just for a moment as he joins both of you on the sofa, placing a blanket over the three of you. he thinks you're asleep as he whispers in your ear that he loves you.

and just before he passes out with pure exhaustion, he feels you press a kiss to his cheek and whisper that you love him too <3333

tbh i was going to go smuttier with this and write in DETAIL about max going down on you...mayb next time

[jerrythebug]

They should've fucked nasty. Actually they probably did behind the scenes

[jpbpxma]

hi, this is a new writing blog for pedro pascal & his characters. I have many ideas of my own to post but I'm also accepting requests for scenarios, specific characters of his you'd like to see written or just anything really, even if it's just to talk so shoot me an ask :)<3

(yes the picture is a way to bring your attention to this post)

[pascalsbby]

a long museum, walk-around-and-fall-even-deeper typa day

[galaxyedging]

When you are bored and honry with a mild Canva addiction.

[absurdthirst]

Kinktober 2022: October 28th

Day 28: Flogging // Watersports // Body Swap

Max Lord x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: BDSM, sex work, sex clubs, safe words, restraints, flogging, masturbation

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

You recognize your next client. You aren’t supposed to, not with the Sun In now dyed out of his hair, you assume the darker color to be his natural one. The boxy power suit that he had been so prominently featured in on the news reels traded for a track suit. Golden pinkie ring missing and the general cocky demeanor stripped away from the once famous - now infamous - Max Lord. 

His eyes are furtive, darting around nervously as the loud music plays in the back, echoing into the front check in area. The unassuming building would never be taken for a sex club, which is exactly what the owners wanted. Not wanting to overtly advertise that they were catering to some of the more…discerning appetites of the elite. You can only get in if you have a card, if a member gives you one. 

“Good evening sir, how may I fulfill your desires this evening?” You purr, making sure your tits are pushed up high as you walk around the small counter. His eyes widen as he takes in the very provocative leather and latex outfit you are squeezed into, the spiky heels that look as if they can pierce skin. They can - if you need them to. 

Max gulps, grunting as he starts patting his pockets to look for the card that he had been given. “Shit.” He huffs, relaxing slightly when he feels the sharp edge of the card in his pocket and shoves his hand into it to pull out the gold leaf embossed cardstock. The logo of the club on the front large on the front with a tiny address written on the back. Discreet. “I was- uh, given this by Charlie.” He explains, less assertive than you had seen on TV. Although he had tumbled pretty far from grace since his Black Gold commercials. 

“I see.” You smile as you accept the card, looking down at it for a moment and then back up into his unsure amber eyes. You see the mixture of defeat and defiance in his gaze, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Which, you’re sure he was at one point during the entire incident last year. The details that were released to the public were still a bit confusing. The small number on the left hand side belonged to Charles Hammerich, a very prominent member who you have had several scenes with. 

Max shuffles slightly and introduces himself quietly, like you don’t know who he is. Although you don’t react to his name or let on that you know him. In this club, they were guaranteed privacy. Their kinks, preferences, stature, was no one's business. It wasn’t your job to judge him, it was your job to give him what he wanted, maybe even what he needed. “Charlie told me- he told me that you helped him relax.” His eyes widen slightly as if there was some special meaning behind that particular phrase. 

All of the scenes with Charlie have been where you were in the position of power. Oftentimes where he was in restraints and normally there was some kind of impact play in the scene. You wonder if you will have to pull what Max wants out of him or if he will volunteer the information. Often, new members or guests were hesitant in voicing their wants even though it was your job, your pleasure, to provide it to them. 

“Yes.” You nod in agreement. “I help Charlie relax often. How can I help you relax, Mr. Lord.” 

He looks away, his eyes drifting towards the doorway that leads back to the plush, private rooms where the scenes are played out. “I- there’s something that I want. I - uh, it’s not- I-” He stammers slightly, almost unable to articulate what he is here for. 

“Would you like to see the room?” You ask, watching his eyes snap back to you with gratitude. 

“Yes.” His shoulders straighten and he nods. “I- lead the way.” 

You are aware that his eyes are firmly on your ass as you guide him through the hallway down to the room that you will use for him today. The toys are clean and neatly lined up on shelves. Hooks for the whips and floggers, cuffs and paddles all lined up, for easy perusal and access. Waving your hand towards the wall, you invite him to look his fill. “These are everything that is available, if there is something that you want that you don’t see, let me know.” 

You watch as he examines each and every one of the toys. His fingers reach out for the leather braided flogger that is a personal favorite of yours. You hum quietly, happy that your intuition for what Max Lord would want would be accurate. “This.” He decides, turning and looking at you with a hopeful plea in his eyes. 

“Good choice, Mr. Lord.” 

**** He looks good, stretches out in the rack. Stripped down and secured to each point on the steel pipes above and below him. The cuffs that he had chosen were softer, not going to leave a mark unless he pulls too hard. It was often the choice for powerful men who didn’t want anyone to know that they need to give up power to you. 

His cock is half hard and you haven’t even touched him yet. Safe word firmly established and you’ve made him repeat it several times to make sure that it’s firmly embedded into his mind before you start. 

There is a shiver that runs down his spine as you caress his skin with the braided leather falls, using them like you would your fingers. The small grunt that he lets out is needy, eyes slipping closed. He agreed that as soon as the last cuff was closed around his wrist that you were in charge. He wasn’t to ask or beg for anything. You’re in control of the scene was complete beyond his use of the safe word or using the light system. 

“Is this what you need?” You coo softly, running the tails up and down his back, watching the skin tremble and pimple in goosed flesh. Not giving him a chance to respond, you flick your wrist and with a snap of leather, Max cries out. 

You check with him, making sure that he is fine. That it is what he is looking for. It’s your scene but you are learning what his tolerance is, right along with Max. He isn’t quite sure what he can endure just yet. Once he reaffirms that he is ready to continue, you draw you hand back again. 

Each cry gets louder, equallying the force that you put behind the flogger. It’s a misconception that you have to beat someone to get a reaction but that isn’t true. You don’t have to break skin to flog someone properly. The correct placement of the tails can bring just as much of a sweet sting as the harshest whip. He does like the additional force though. 

Flick after flick starts to darken his skin, heating it up and making him flinch and hiss after his cries. Fists clenched around the bars, holding on to them while you continue to flog him. Strike after strike placed on his back, ass, thighs, all areas that were discussed by the two of you. His whine makes you pause, walking around him to look in his eyes. 

“Do you want to stop?” You ask quietly, your eyes fixed on his. Watching carefully as he pants. His cock is stiff, rock hard and leaking where it bobs as his chest heaves. Looking like he is about to cum within the next few strikes of the flogger against his flesh. 

“N-no.” He shakes his head, rolling his head up and groaning softly. “I- ten more.” He begs, knowing that you have a maximum number of licks you will give during this first scene. Some wanted to jump all in, taking on too much without accounting for how sore he will be tomorrow. It was your job to curb that impulse. 

“Five.” You hum, making him whimper as you grip his chin and press your lips to his softly. His mouth chases yours as you pull back. “Count them for me.” You order as you step back around and lift the flogger up. 

“O-One!” He gasps, back arching when you bring the tails down. Humming, you wait for his body to relax before you strike again. 

“Two- fuck!” His voice creeps up a little higher, rocking up onto the balls of his feet as much as he can. 

This next lick lands on his ass, making him cry out. “Shi- Th-reeeee.” You pause waiting to see if you would hear his safe word, but all you hear is his whining. 

“Four! Fuck, four, four.” You can sense that he is near his limit, panting heavily and there is a note of a sob in his voice. Your let the leather brush his skin his whimper is magical. 

“One more, you’re doing so good.” You praise him, making him sigh and take a deep breath. 

The last flick of your wrist is the harshest, making him cry out and a broken gasp is all you hear instead of a number. 

Dropping the flogger to your side, you walk back around to face him, reaching up and stroking his face with the hanging loop and butt. His eyes are heavy and they slide closed when you reach down with your other hand and wrap it around his cock. 

“You did so good for me, so good, pretty boy.” You coo, making him moan when you start to slowly stroke him. “You took it so well, so I’m going to reward you, hmm? You want to cum? You want to cum all over me while you ride out your high?” 

Max whimpers, nodding drunkenly and his hips try to ruck forward but your wrist twists and the pumps of his cock makes him cum. 

It’s beautiful. The force of his cum makes the spurts hit your leather corset. His strangled cry loud and almost pained but the most exquisite look of pleasure is riding over his face while he cums. Making him sag against the restraints, completely given out by the scene. 

Now that the scene is over, you will let him out of the restraints, spread a cool gel over his back, thighs and ass and care for him like he needs to be after such an intense session. Flogging isn’t for the faint of heart, but it seemed like Max Lord had enjoyed it. Especially as he moans about how he wants more. 

[palioom]

congratulations

summary: you visit maxwell in his office to celebrate a big win for him in the way you know he likes best.

pairing: subby!maxwell lord x f!reader word count: 2.8k warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n ; some swearing, unprotected p in v, sub!maxwell; teasing, some edging, oral (f receiving); riding; praise kink; office sex

• masterlist •

Walking past the front desk of the office building with long strides, she grew more and more excited as she entered the elevator, pressing the button that would bring her to Maxwell’s office.

Today had been a great day, he had managed to make some deals he had been anxious about for ages, deals that would help grow his business even further.

He had called her earlier, ecstatic about it and she had immediately gotten dressed and made her way over to celebrate early.

Bouncing on her heels, she grinned all the way up, genuinely excited for his achievements, pulling down her skirt just a little more.

The doors opened with a “ding!” and she crossed the little hallway in just a few steps, opening the door to his office without knocking.

The secretary had told her he was alone.

“Maxwell!” She said, voice full of excitement and happiness, a wide smile on her face. “Congratulations, baby!”

His head snapped up, confused at first but then a grin spread across his face as he saw her quickly walk over to him, turning his chair to the side so she could lean down and kiss him properly.

“Thank you, love.” He said in between kisses, her hands squeezing his cheeks, his own on her hips, guiding her to sit on his lap sideways.

She giggled when she let go of him, thumbs rubbing his cheekbones.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. You did so well.” 

Her lips found his nose before pressing another one to his lips.

A shiver ran through him when her hands moved down to his neck, her gaze still soft and excited but with a certain twinkle in them now.

Maxwell swallowed heavily.

“I think you deserve a reward, don’t you, pretty boy?” She purred, voice low now, leaning closer to his ear. “A nice reward for all your hard work?”

“Darling-”

“Don't you, baby?”

She kissed him again, swallowing his moan and feeling his fingers dig into her sides.

Her hands wandered over his shoulders, feeling the expensive material of his baby blue suit and then down to his chest, opening some buttons.

“Y-Yes, dear.” His pupils were blown wide when she pulled back, lips slightly parted.

He looked so gorgeous, all flustered and needy already.

“I’m so proud of you.” She whispered, moving to stand from his lap, lifting herself onto his desk. “And I know just what a reward you’d love.”

His dark eyes followed her moves, wandering down to where she slowly spread her legs right in front of him, her dark skirt riding up higher.

Just this little bit of teasing had him strain against his suit pants, shifting in his leather chair.

This was absolutely something he would love, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

She just watched him, leaning back on one arm while her free hand played with the hem of her skirt.

“Take off your jacket, Max.”

He took a moment, blinking up at her but then moving to take it off, throwing it into a chair not too far away from them.

Waiting for what she’d say next.

She saw his fingers flexing on his thighs, looking over her legs, spread for him but not quite showing what he wanted just yet.

“You can touch, baby.” She said, her free hand coming up to brush back his hair. “It’s alright, pretty boy.”

His fingers were on her immediately. Trailing up her shins to her knees and then to her thighs, not daring to cross the line of her skirt, but pressing a soft kiss to the inside of one of her knees.

The motion made her shiver, letting her nails rake over his scalp.

Giggling at the small moan that left him.

“Such a good boy, Max.” She cooed, his eyes snapping up to hers. “So good, baby.”

Just when she thought he had forgotten his manners, he whispered a quiet “Thank you”, making her smile wider and caress his cheek.

With a sigh, her hand fell to her skirt, fingers trailing along the hem of it.

“I was thinking about teasing you today, baby.” She said, lifting her hips so she could hike up her skirt further, until it was bunched up at her waist. “But I am so, so proud of your hard work and you are being so good for me, so I won’t.”

His eyes had followed her every move, now fixed on the black lace covering her already wet pussy.

He was adorable, hands on her thighs but the wheels clearly turning in his head, unsure if he could touch her or not.

The desire was clearly there, breaths shallow and his hands moved up and down her legs.

“Go ahead, told you it’s okay, baby.”

As if a leash had been taken off of him, his hands moved up, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her panties and pulling them down swiftly, putting them in the breast pocket of his dress shirt.

“I’m getting those back later.” She laughed, her hand threading back into his hair as he moved to pull her closer to the edge of the table.

His broad hands rested on the inside of her thighs, keeping her spread open for him.

Just when he was about to dive in, though, looking like a man starved, she tightened her grip in his hair with a soft tut, holding him back.

“Ah-ah, Max. Slow.” She warned him, just a little sternness in her voice. “This is your reward and you’ll savour that, won’t you, baby?”

He nodded, eyes coming back up to hers, seeing her raised brow.

It took him a moment, but he got there, knowing she wanted him to speak.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at that, chuckling quietly.

“There you go, now go ahead. Congratulations.”

Her hand stayed in his blonde locks but she loosened her grip, gasping when his tongue made contact with her clit.

It was his favourite thing, eating her out. Always got him rock hard and he was so good at pleasing her, swirling his tongue around her clit before moving down to her aching hole, fully tasting her.

“Oh, Max- Fuck, you’re good, baby, doing so well.” She said, the praise making him moan against her core. The vibrations felt delicious, paired with his tongue fucking into her and his nose nudging against her clit. “Such a good boy for me.”

She watched him, head buried between her thighs, eyes closed and brows furrowed, his movements slow even though she felt the tenseness in him, the urge to go faster and devour her.

Not yet, though. Maxwell needed to work on his patience, always wanting things to happen in an instant.

Her hips bucked against his face in time with his movements, moaning loudly when he sucked on her clit.

“That’s it, Max. Just a little faster, yes?”

She felt breathless already, her orgasm building steadily and too quickly for her own liking, too turned on by him submitting to her.

He increased his movements, just a little too fast, the tight grip on his hair reminding him to slow down right to how she wanted him, humming at the pain.

“You gotta be patient, baby. I got you this pretty reward and you want it to be over in a minute?” She said, watching him shift in his chair again. “Are you that ungrateful?”

“No.” The sound of his voice was muffled against her pussy, eyes opening to look up at her now.

Fuck, he looked hot, eyes glazed over and so needy.

“What was that?” She asked, pulling him off of her by his hair. “You gotta speak up, it’s rude to talk with your mouth full, Maxwell.”

He was breathing hard, chin glistening with her wetness.

“No, my love.” He repeated, louder this time.

She smiled, knuckles brushing over his cheek.

“Good.” She sighed, grabbing his hair again and pulling him against her. “Was thinking you didn’t deserve this pussy, but go ahead, I’ll look the other way just this once.”

He practically devoured her, wet noises intensifying as he moaned and whimpered into her.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, baby.” She moaned, feeling herself getting closer as he alternated between giving attention to her clit and fucking to her, lapping up all of her.

He whimpered again, doubling down, wanting to feel her cum on his tongue, wanting all of his reward.

He had definitely earned it.

Just when she teetered on the edge though, she brought one of her feet to his shoulder, pushing him back and against the back of his chair, making him whine at the loss but smirking when she saw his desperate and confused look.

“Darling-” Maxwell whimpered, fearing he had fucked up somehow, watching her breathe heavily.

Genuinely worried this was it, with the way her heel was digging into his collarbone.

But she shook her head, tilting it back as she gathered her breath, orgasm ebbing away slowly.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, Max, don’t worry your pretty blonde head.” She laughed a little, breathless, and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Besides her moans. “You’re just too good, baby. And I want this to last for you, don’t you?”

He nodded, then remembered.

“Yes, love.”

She waited just a moment longer before looking back at him, her foot falling away from his shoulder with a smirk, nudging against the bulge in his pants.

Clearly taking him by surprise, based on the choked sound he made.

“Sweetheart- My god-”

A giggle echoed between them and she bit her lip at the sight of him.

“Make me cum, make it pretty, and you’ll get another reward, baby.” She said, spreading her legs again, wet and waiting just for him. “Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect, thank you, my love.” 

The words came out rushed, and he was on her immediately.

This time, she let him, bucking up against his face, moaning at his eagerness.

Feeling herself closer to the edge again, hand on his shoulder to find some purchase, sounds growing louder by the second.

“Fuck, Maxwell, you’re so good, such a good boy.” She breathed out, so close, so damn close. He focused on her clit again, sucking hard. “Just like that, yes!”

All air left her lungs when she came, a wretched moan leaving with it, body shaking.

Maxwell lapped up everything he gave her, helping her through the waves and he watched her face contorted in pleasure, groaning softly.

He kept going until she pushed him back with her foot again. Big, satisfied smile on her face, almost matching his.

“You’ve done well, baby. That was fucking good.”

Sitting up straight, she looked down at him, cupping his cheeks.

“Ready for more, love?” She asked, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones again. “You must be aching to have my pussy on you, hm? Tell me, baby.”

He really was uncomfortable in his pants, nodding.

“Very. I want you, darling.”

It wasn’t quite right, he wasn’t begging hard enough.

“Open your pants, take out your cock.” She ordered him and he did as told, opening his suit pants and freeing his aching cock, already glistening with precum.

Whimpering when he touched himself but then resting his hands on his thighs.

“Touch yourself.” She said, watching his face fall with a giggle. His fingers flexed but didn’t move. “You heard me, go on.”

He was just aching and she knew, knew that it wouldn’t take him that long until he burst.

But he needed more patience.

Still, he reluctantly wrapped his hand around himself, giving himself a few slow tugs, whimpering but looking at her.

Just like he knew she wanted.

“Beg me for it.” She said, eyes moving back and forth between his cock and his face, taking in his parted, glistening lips. “Beg for my pussy and you’ll get your reward.”

“Please, darling.” He said, hand slowing down just a little, trying to hold out. “I- I want your sweet pussy around my- fuck, around my cock. Please, my love.”

She smiled. Normally it wouldn’t be enough and she would reduce him to tears before she gave in.

But it was a special day, and he deserved this.

“I’ll let it slide. Well done, Max.”

She slid down the table to straddle his hips in the chair, reaching between them to line herself up with him.

Slowly sinking down onto him, watching his eyes close as he slumped back against the backrest, his hands wandering to her hips and curling his fingers into her.

“Ah-ah, Maxwell, hands off.” She warned him, voice lacking just a little of her authority, breathless from how well he stretched her open. “No touching, got that?”

“But, my love-”

“Hands. Off.” She repeated, raising a brow at him, his hands removing themselves and gripping the armrests instead, knuckles white. “And you don’t cum ‘til I tell you to, understood?”

This wasn’t what he understood under a reward, but there was an element of excitement to it.

He’d take whatever she would give him.

Slowly, she rolled her hips, squeezing him tight when he didn’t answer.

“Understood, Maxwell?”

He nodded, looking her in the eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy.”

She braced herself on her elbows on the table behind her, bouncing on his cock as their moans mingled, small breaths and pants interspersed.

It was beautiful, seeing him try to hold on, try to do what she told him to. Saw how he struggled to keep his hands to himself, how he just wanted to cum inside of her already.

But he held back, trying so hard not to let his orgasm crash into him already.

“You look so pretty like this, Maxwell.” She moaned, leaning forward again to kiss him. “Trying so hard for me, being such a good, obedient boy.”

He whimpered into her mouth and she slipped her tongue against his, feeling how he lifted his hands off the armrests just momentarily before slamming them back down again.

His hips rocking up into her with shallow motions now.

“I know it’s hard but you can hold on a little longer, yes?”

A strangled “yes” rolled from his mouth right into hers.

She was losing control faster than she thought she would, spurred on by his sounds and the way his cock hit her just right.

“Yeah, you can. You’re so good for me, Max, so good.” She let go of him, bracing herself on his shoulders, the chair squeaking with every bounce of hers. “I am so proud of you, so very proud, you’ve done well.”

Her words were mostly ramblings now, repeating herself over and over, drowning out the way he whimpered her name.

“My love, please.” He said, the pressure inside him unbearable now. “Let me cum, please- Darling-”

She felt hazy, nodding and grabbing his shoulders tighter.

“Cum inside me, Max, you’ve done so well, so good.”

And he did, letting go with a deep groan, eyes screwed shut as he spilled himself inside of her. Still not touching her, using the last of his willpower to grab the chair instead of her.

She followed right after him, his sounds of pleasure enough to tip her over a second time, mouth crashing against his again, drowning out her own moans.

Her hips kept moving until she had ridden out the last waves of pleasure, her hands finding his and prying open his tight grip to move them to her hips.

Maxwell immediately pulled her against him, meeting the lazy movements of her lips as they calmed down.

She giggled, moving back just a little so she could kiss his cheek.

“I really am proud of you, Max.” She whispered, resting her forehead against his temple, her nose pressing against his cheek. “Are you alright? Too much?”

He sighed, slumping back in his chair.

“Just perfect. The best surprise and reward a man could want.” His voice was a little hoarse, but nothing some water wouldn’t fix.

Or champagne. She was far from done celebrating with him.

“I reserved a table at that restaurant you like so much.” She said, looking into his eyes now. Such a nice shade of brown, so full of love for her. “The one with that really good lobster you never shut up about.”

He laughed at that, a hand coming up to brush some hair from her face.

“We should get home and get cleaned up. There’s a lot to celebrate.” She continued, smiling. “I am so happy for you, baby, congrats.”

“Thank you, my love.” He kissed her again, briefly. “Let’s go, then.”

There really was a lot to celebrate.

And they did, until the early morning.

With many more rewards for Maxwell from her.

Expressing just how happy and proud she was of him.

[penciltopbear]

Hey max enjoyers what's his best outfit. I know one of you has a folder somewhere of screenshots of all of his outfits don't lie to me

[awhoreintheory]

You know that story about a motorcycle gang that, essentially, adopts child abuse victims? Like, they go to court with them, stand guard outside their houses, and even make them little jackets?

Imagine Jason, who didn't have the best childhood, who always looks out for the kids of crime Alley (enough so one of his huge rules is "don't deal to kids or I deal with you") and his people catch onto this, yknow

Yeah. That's Red Hood gang fs.

Some of them are only there because Red Hood is the new top dog, sure, but some are also there because they like working under Red Hood. He's really not a terrible guy once you get past the 8 heads in a duffle bag!

And so I think, it wasn't Red Hood himself that started going to child abuse court cases and standing guard around their house at night first, but rather his men. It wasn't something he ordered them to do, and it wasn't ever explicitly brought up, but I Red Hood seamlessly integrated this new little division into his Crime Lord activities.

There was a schedule for who was on Crime stuff, and who got to beat the shit out of little Maxwell's abusive shitbag dad.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[muldermuse]

Maxwell Lord is so fucking insanely into stockings

I will be taking no more questions at this time, thank you

[mypoisonedvine]

81:"just come to dinner with me. it doesn't have to be weird." 89:"keep the lights on, I want to see you." 88:"kiss me like you mean it." With Jack Whiskey or maxwell Lord.

Hope your having a lovley day<3

-❄

I know he's not everybody's favorite but I want a sugar daddy maxwell fic sooo bad! to make it fair I decided to take some liberties with his look lmao

length: 2.5k (no clue how that happened...)

warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), oral f receiving, sugar daddy relationship, alcohol consumption, possessiveness <3

You’d never done anything like this before— you made that perfectly clear to him, to the point that you wondered if it would scare him off.  But it didn’t, which was equal parts comforting and concerning.

However, even with all your complex emotions towards the idea, you agreed to it.  Just come to dinner with me, he’d told you, it doesn’t have to be weird.  Nothing has to happen— it’s just dinner, no expectations.

That relieved you enough to get you to go out with him.  He’s not expecting anything, you promised yourself, it’s just dinner.  Nothing has to happen.

But you still put on your nicest lingerie under your dress… just in case.

The whole thing made you feel out of place, honestly: you’d never been to a restaurant this nice, you’d never worn a designer gown before (let alone one that someone had picked out and sent to you for your first date), you’d never been picked up by a private driver—you didn’t even know what to do when you got to the restaurant, so you were a bit relieved (if certainly surprised) when you walked in and they seemed to already know you.

The host greeted you by name, took your coat, and informed you that Mr. Lord is already waiting for you at his usual table.  That made you wonder if a girl like you was his usual guest.

Your heart picked up its pace when you saw him from across the restaurant; he looked like he fit right in, with his hair slicked back in a black tux.  He looked so natural like that, you couldn’t even imagine him without a tux.  (Well, you could, but you were trying not to.)

But, your heart didn’t really start racing until he saw you.  His eyes lit up, and a tilted smile filled his face as he stood to greet you.

“Don’t you look gorgeous!” he purred, leaning in to kiss your cheek as you approached— even that caught you off-guard, but you realized it wasn’t meant to be especially flirtatious, it was just one of those rich people greetings.  Then again, the arm that reached around you so his hand could rest momentarily on your lower back felt a bit more than friendly.  “You like the dress?”

“Y-yes, thank you,” you smiled nervously as you looked down at the floor-length black gown again, “it’s beautiful.  And more comfortable than it looks.”

He laughed a bit, squeezing your arm briefly before gesturing for you to take your seat.  One waiter was already pouring your water and another was draping a white napkin over your lap and pushing in your seat;  “White or red, miss?” the one pouring drinks asked.

“O-oh, um—” you began, but Maxwell interrupted.

“Why don’t you bring her a glass of the ’61 Chateau Haut-Brion?” he suggested.  “To go with mine.”

“Of course, sir,” the waiter nodded, and soon him and his fellow servers departed.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Maxwell addressed you again, “the house wines are fine— but I think you’ll like this one, it’s excellent.”

“Oh, I trust you,” you smiled, “you know a lot more about all this than me.”

“Try not to feel too intimidated,” he assured, “almost everyone here is worrying just as much as you about looking like they belong—probably even more than you are.  The only difference is, you actually have enough beauty to not be outshined by a place like this.”

A little uncomfortable with the compliment, you looked around the modern space— so much glass and crystal sparkling under pleasantly-dim lights, with a view out over the ocean just outside the window you’d been seated against.  It was sleek and ornate all at once.  “It really is a lovely place, thank you for taking me here,” you announced.

“Oh, I come here all the time— more than I should,” he laughed.  “I’ll warn you now, you might become addicted once you get a taste.”

A brief moment passed before he quirked a brow.

“Of the food, I mean,” he winked, and you giggled a bit.

“Right— should I, um, look at a menu?” you wondered.

“It’s actually a set course tonight,” he explained, “I hope you don’t mind.  Honestly, I prefer not having to think about it— and the chef here never misses.  He’s a good friend, actually.”

“I get the feeling you’re good friends with a lot of people,” you observed, and he gave you a knowing smile.

“Should I be offended?” he asked.

“No,” you laughed, “but you seem like you’re always getting in places, always getting special treatment or private access— ‘cause the theater owner is a good friend, the executive producer is a good friend…”

“You make me sound much more popular than I am,” he shrugged.

The waiter returned with a bottle in hand, showing the label to you and Maxwell.  “The Chateau Haut-Brion you requested, Mr. Lord?”

“Fabulous, thank you,” Maxwell smiled as the waiter uncorked the bottle and poured glasses for you both.

“The first course will be out shortly,” the man explained before he departed; you reached for your glass, about to take a sip, but your date raised his own.

“A toast,” he suggested, making you stop pulling your glass closer and holding it up in anticipation instead, “to… new friends.”

You smiled and clinked your glass against his.

~

You tried not to look too starstruck as you looked around the penthouse apartment, but it was hard to hide your awe at all the fine art on the walls, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittery city below, the vintage and baroque furniture…

“I haven’t been here in a few weeks,” he explained as he sauntered inside after letting you in, “forgive me if it looks a little barren— I’ve been in my home in California for some time to manage my work there, I only visit my apartments occasionally—”

“You have more than one?!” you realized, unable to suppress the urge to gawk, and he smiled as you looked back over your shoulder at him.

“I have quite a few properties, yes,” he nodded.  “Miami, Berlin, Hong Kong— all of these, of course, would be available to you whenever you’d like to visit, if you were to…”

He trailed off, approaching you as his eyes darkened a bit.  “If I was to…?” you prompted.

You shivered slightly when he reached up to run his fingers gently along the curve of your jaw.  “If you were to accept my offer.”

You swallowed, turning to face him properly, and sighed when his other hand came to rest on your waist.  “A-and, if I was to…” you trailed off, apparently still not proud enough to say it, “would there be… anyone else?”

“No,” he shook his head, “not for either of us.  That’s not what I want.”

He’d explained to you before, in a few different ways, what he did want.  He’d explained that he enjoyed ‘dating’ this way because it took out the guesswork, because he was too busy for a traditional relationship.  He needed a partner who could work around his complex schedule— and to soften the blow, he would send gifts to fill the time while he was gone.  All he really asked was that you stay ready and waiting for him to return— or even to be ready to drop everything and hop on a private jet to come see him wherever he was when he needed you most.

The look in his eyes certainly showed that he needed you now.  You knew that if you told him you didn’t want this— or even just that you didn’t want anything to happen tonight— he would be polite and sweet and have a car take you home.  But you also got the feeling that if you said any of that, he would see right through it.

You wanted this too.  It was sort of obvious, especially as your hands snaked up his chest over the fabric of his tux, resting on his shoulders as you looked up at him expectantly.

“Why don’t you tell me what you want, beautiful?” he suggested in a low voice.

“I… I want,” you began hesitantly, having to look away to find the courage to say it, “I want you to tell me what to do.”

He smiled a bit, lifting your chin and guiding you to look up at him again.  “Kiss me like you mean it.”

You felt strange about that wording— like he thought you didn’t genuinely want this and just tolerated it in exchange for the money.  Which wasn’t true, but then again, it is hard to turn a man down when you’re wearing the thousand-dollar dress he bought for you.

And, of course, you kissed him.  You wove your fingers into the hair at the back of his neck, shutting your eyes and sighing as he tightened his grip on your waist; he wrapped you up in his arms, slowly and gently, and hummed lowly against your lips.  There was something about it that was different from every other first kiss you’d had (or possibly every other kiss you’d ever had) but you completely lacked the words to describe it.  Maybe it was how careful he was with you, how oddly patient; or maybe it was how quickly you found yourself wanting more.

You opened your mouth slightly, letting him delve deeper with his tongue, though he wasn’t too aggressive about it at first.  It was still sweet and slow, and you relaxed further as you pressed your body to his.

He broke away sooner than you wanted him to, and you watched his eyes scan over your face before they drifted to your shoulder— where his hand was tracing over the strap of your dress, teasing that he might slide it down at any moment.  You found yourself wishing he would, but instead he brought his eyes back to your own.

“Would you mind if I showed you the bedroom?” he suggested.

“Not at all,” you breathed.

You didn’t get a very thorough tour, not when you were stumbling backwards through the door as his hands ran all over you.  He quickly flipped on the light switch as he walked past it, only for you to reach and turn it off again.  He smiled playfully at you as he broke his lips away.  “Now, darling, how am I supposed to show you the bedroom in the dark?” he mused.

“You can show me after,” you sighed, trying to tug him by the jacket into another kiss, but he resisted with a smug grin.

“After,” he repeated with a low, rich voice that seemed to wash right over you.  “But what we’re about to do, I don’t want to do in the dark, either— you’re much more exciting to look at than some boring old bedroom that’s been on the cover of Architectural Digest…”

You laughed a little, but he bit his lip as he pulled you closer to him.

“Keep the lights on,” he pleaded— or maybe demanded, “I want to see you.”

You flipped the lights back on, and he almost turned that designer gown to shreds getting it off you.

He growled as he got a glimpse of your lingerie, and you bit your lip through a smile when he met your gaze again.  “Oh, angel— you’ll spoil me.”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, making you gasp slightly as he delicately ran his fingers along the lacy hem of your panties.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he sighed, “I need to taste you.”

“Fuck,” you mumbled, “o-okay, whatever you want.”

Looking up at you, he shot you a glittering smile.  “Get used to saying that, beautiful.”

You shuddered, just as he pulled the panties down and dove between your legs.

You felt a bit undignified with him burying his mouth against you while you were standing up; your knees wobbled and he grabbed onto your hips to help keep your balance, sliding his tongue out between your lips.

“Fuck!” you gasped, reaching down and grabbing a handful of his hair greedily.  He moaned against you, shutting his eyes tighter, lapping at you eagerly.  He pulled away far too soon, and you whimpered before he beamed up at you with slick lips.

“Get on the bed,” he demanded.

You didn’t need a tour of the room to find that: you stepped out of your panties and fell back onto it, smiling at him as he quickly slipped off his jacket and climbed up over you with an insatiable look on his face, his dark hair broken out of its style by your touch and dangling down around his face.

“Take this off,” he instructed, running a finger over your bra as he balanced himself to hover over you.

You sat up enough to reach behind your back, unfastening the garment and shimmying out of it to toss aside onto the floor.

His gaze raked over you lasciviously.  “Forgive me,” he breathed, “if I can’t find the heart to take my time with you like I imagined.”

You felt your heart skip, just before he descended and kissed you again, the tangy taste of your own arousal making you moan in the back of your throat.  The kiss was filthier and needier than ever, and quickly moved down to your neck; your back arched up off the satin sheets as his tongue traced your pulse.

“I could spend all night,” he panted between heady kisses, “tasting you everywhere.”

“God,” you whimpered, “I won’t stop you.”

“And what if I want to spend the whole night inside you?” he challenged further, making you whine and stir under him.  He pressed his weight down on you as you slowly spread your legs; you felt suddenly aware of him still being almost entirely dressed while you were stripped to nothing, and it somehow only made you more desperate for him.

“Please,” you begged, feeling his teeth scrape your neck as his hips rocked against yours.  You gasped feeling how hard he was, and it turned into a proper moan as one of his hands groped roughly at your chest.  “Fuck, Max—”

“When you say my name like that, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to control myself,” he growled, pulling back to look down at you.

“Then don’t,” you offered with a smirk.

“Just promise me one thing,” he began, surprising you with the change of his tone.  “If we do this… you’re mine.”

Your throat caught on nothing.

“If you can’t handle that, I understand,” he mitigated, “but I can’t pretend that I feel any differently— I need you, all to myself.  I need to know that you belong to me.”

You found yourself nodding before you even really thought it through.  “I’m yours,” you promised as you clutched desperately at his shirt, making him smile proudly.  “Fuck, I’m all yours.”

He kissed you—not as ruthless as the last one, but still plenty passionate.  This time, you were completely sure you’d never been kissed like this.

“I want you to say that,” he purred against your lips, “every time I make you come.”

[owl-with-a-pen]

Outside of superhero emergencies, Kara didn’t tend to lean into her super hearing where she could avoid it. Girl’s night at her apartment, for example, definitely shouldn’t have called for it. Then again, she wasn’t usually the subject of discussion in just about every apartment block on her street.

So, maybe that wasn’t completely true. She’d certainly heard her name mentioned a lot more since the whole secret identity reveal thing; it was just, nowadays, instead of hearing Supergirl, it was usually Kara Zor-El.

She was used to it. She’d been used to it for years; her name was normally a hot topic days, if not weeks after a major save was broadcast. The only difference now was… not all of those voices were as positive as she’d come to expect.

Like right now, for instance. No matter how hard she tried to shut it out, she couldn’t help but listen for that same voice echoing from hundreds of homes across the city, streaming from earbuds, speakers and laptops alike. His voice was charismatic and quick, like a less polished Maxwell Lord, and while he may have been a nobody just a few weeks ago, he’d certainly gained enough traction now to give Kara one hell of a headache.

Unfortunately for her, she’d inadvertently tuned herself in at just the right time for her downstairs neighbour to hit play:

“Alright folks, if you missed our last episode I’ll catch you up to speed. Last week, we rounded off at the crux of the Supergirl Problem; that she hasn’t just been living in our midst this whole time, but that she’s been actively working as a journalist for CatCo Worldwide Media. And, just a few weeks ago, she was publicly put in charge of the editorial process for that same media outlet minutes after she came clean about her alter-ego to the world. And, as I doubt Supergirl will want to speak for herself on the matter, we have one of her self-proclaimed super-fans in the house today to speak on her behalf. Say it with me at home folks, debate me, Supergirl!”

The aforementioned ‘super-fan’ let out a surprised scoff at her introduction. She didn’t waste a minute of her airtime, jumping immediately into the conversation: “Well, for starters, I think you’re taking this whole thing out of context. Supergirl didn’t just become a journalist for CatCo overnight. If you knew anything about Kara’s story, you’d know that she worked her way up the food chain for years! I mean, how empowering is that? She started as a PA!”

“Yeah, a PA with superspeed, how difficult. No wonder she ended up in Cat Grant’s palm! And yes, I do know her origin story, thank you very much.” The host’s voice crackled as Kara imagined him relaxing into his microphone. “Let the audience not forget that she was a PA for Cat Grant before she became a journalist. Are we really going to pretend that wasn’t her foot in the door?”

“Cat Grant wasn’t even her boss when she got into journalism,” argued the young woman. “And by the time Kara made a name for herself, Cat wasn’t even leading the company anymore! She got to where she is now on her own merit, no one elses!”

The host spoke over her: “It begs the question, did Cat Grant know this whole time? She takes a sabbatical only to re-emerge just in time to offer Supergirl a promotion. On top of that, she’s been promoting Supergirl for years! She created her – her words, on record. And now she’s put her in charge of media distribution. Get this: Supergirl is now in charge of the media we consume. Isn’t that a little self-indulgent?”

The young woman didn’t back down. “Kara Danvers was a Pultizer winning journalist long before we found out who she really was,” she argued. “She’s been standing for truth and justice just as much as Supergirl has. In fact, she’s just as much a hero as—”

“But what’s the agenda here?” the host continued with a conspiratorial air. “How can we even believe the news now it’s being headed by a liar? And she did, didn’t she? She lied to us all! She had a secret identity this whole time, and what? We’re just supposed to accept that? What’s the bet that this story will make a headline at CatCo magazine tomorrow morning, with my comments made out as Supergirl’s latest villain story? Or, better yet, will I be Kara Danver’s first official nemesis?” He barked out a laugh into his microphone. “There’s no freedom of the press anymore, folks, not when CatCo is bias towards the very hero that made it so popular in the first place!”

Before she could hear any more, Kara was thrown from her super-eavesdropping rather unceremoniously when a hand shot out in front of her face, waving impatiently.  

“Earth to Kara,” Alex said, snapping her fingers in front of her sister’s nose. “Hey, anyone home?”

“Huh?” Kara said before screwing her eyes shut, swatting away Alex’s offending hand. “Hey, hey, stop that!”

It was only then that she realised that it wasn’t just Alex who had been trying to get her attention. Lena and Kelly were staring at her from the opposite sofa. Nia sat cross legged on the footstool by the coffee table, nursing her drink with an expectant expression.

Kara glanced lamely at the TV. It didn’t look like anyone had been paying attention to the movie for quite some time.

Just how long had she been…?

Kara tried not to cringe.

Kelly cleared her throat, smoothing her hands over her lap. “From your expression, I’m guessing you were listening in on something pretty important.” She hesitated. “Is everything okay?”

Kara’s eyes widened. “What? Oh, oh no, it’s not a superhero emergency, I swear. Girl’s night continues uninterrupted, I promise!”

“Okay,” Nia said with a slow smile. “Then what was with the—” She mimicked Kara’s spaced-out expression a little too well, earning a few grins at her expense.

Kara pursed her lips. “Uh—I mean. It was nothing. Just…” She sagged in on herself awkwardly. “Okay, so I may have been listening to this podcast…”

“Oof.” Alex winced. “You don’t wanna do that.”

Kara groaned, falling back against the sofa. “I’ve been trying not to, but it’s kinda hard when half of my building’s listening to it.” She rubbed aggressively at her ears. “Super hearing can really suck, you guys.”

“Wait,” Nia said, perking up. “Are you talking about the Debate Me, Supergirl podcast?” When everyone turned to stare at her, she shrugged. “What? Brainy’s been keeping tabs on all social channels for this stuff ever since your interview first went public, y’know, calculating the odds on them picking up any real traction. In case things go… south.”

“And what are the odds on this guy?” Alex asked seriously.

Nia made a vague gesture. “I mean, until a few days ago, Brainy had him in the unlikely category. But his latest interview with a Supergirl stan got a whole lot of attention on social media. They were basically at each other’s throats the entire time.” She took a mild sip of her drink. “People ate it up.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “Of course they did. And I’m guessing from your tone, not much of the audience were on this super – uh – stan’s side?”

Nia pulled a face, taking an even larger swig.

Kara groaned again, burying her face in her hands. “This is awful. I- I just can’t believe how little faith they have in me now that they know the truth!”

Lena smiled her sympathy. “Take it from someone who was once deluded enough to fall right into that same category of hatefully ignorant.” She toasted her scotch glass to no one in particular, swirling its contents with a gentle twist of her wrist. “It’s not easy for people to accept that their larger-than-life hero was living amongst them.”

Kara’s head shot up in protest. “I never wanted anyone to put me on a pedestal.”

“Want has nothing to do about it. Like it or not, they did.” Lena paused, tucking her legs into the sofa’s arm. She fixed Kara with a level look. “Kara, I say this as your friend, but you have to understand how powerful you are in the eyes of a regular citizen. You fly, you shoot laser beams from your eyes, you’re bullet proof and fire proof. Your power is limitless and even though this city has seen you fall, they’ve also seen you get back up time and time again.”

Kara bit her lip. “That part I can understand, but it’s not just that. This podcaster isn’t only targeting my Supergirl persona. It’s Kara Danvers, Kara Zor-El that they don’t trust.” She snorted, throwing her hands wide. “They think the fact that I’m working as CatCo’s Editor-in-Chief makes the whole platform inherently bias. And – yes – I know I’ve fought my own biases in the past, and it’s not like being impartial was what won me a Pulitzer, but to them— a superhero in the press just doesn’t appeal. They think I’m a fraud, that I’ve been manipulating public opinion.” Kara could feel her face begin to flush in frustration. She ran a hand through her hair, standing just to put her energy somewhere. She slammed a fist against her palm, taking a step around the coffee table with every beat. “But, I mean, don’t they remember how CatCo turned on Supergirl after the Red Kryptonite incident? And rightfully, too. I lost the people’s trust then, and now—now it’s happening all over again and I just… I don’t know how to win them back,” she laughed through her teeth, “or if I can win them back!”

Alex took Kara’s arm swiftly as she passed her by, tugging her to her side. “Hey, no one said this was gonna be easy.”

“I think those were Cat’s exact words, actually,” Nia said helpfully, pointing in Alex’s direction.

Kara huffed, anchored by her sister’s steadying hand. “Yeah? Well, they didn’t say it would be this difficult, either.”

“Don’t listen to a few angry voices,” Nia insisted, her voice sobering. “They aren’t worth your energy, trust me.”

“Are they just a few?” Kara asked grimly. If she tried hard enough, she was sure she could still tune into hundreds of versions of that same podcast playing from across the city. Whether they agreed with him or not, the people of National City and beyond were listening to this nameless podcaster, and that was dangerous enough on its own.

Nia smiled tightly, balling her knuckles against her lap. “Just don’t listen to them, okay?” She closed her eyes. “Look, people like to make a lot of noise when they feel like they’ve been lied to, but the truth is, they were never entitled to that information to begin with. When I did my Dreamer interview with you, a lot of people were so supportive; some of them even saw themselves in me, but there were always hateful voices that tried to drown out the positive ones.” She straightened her back, opening her eyes. “But, y’know, they make that much noise because they know they’re in the minority, and they do not have the power that they think. Putting it into perspective like that… it’s a lot easier to ignore them, especially when I know how many people I’ve helped by sharing my story.”

“You’re right,” Kara said softly. Because she was. Of course she was. A single podcast spouting a single negative view didn’t diminish everything good that had come out of Supergirl’s identity reveal. Yes, the celebrity-level thing took some getting used to and openly flying to work made her something of a spectacle when it came to the office situation, but for the most part, Kara was relieved to have that weight off her shoulders, and it was a joy to know just how many aliens felt more confident to live as themselves now that they knew Supergirl had also shared their struggle.

In truth, the world knowing where she had come from, who she had been ever since she’d landed on Earth, grounded her to the people in a way that had never struck quite the same as just Supergirl. And that was worth any amount of growing pains.

Kara reached out for Nia’s hand over the coffee table, squeezing tight. “Thank you.”

Nia’s smile softened. “Any time.”

Lena cleared her throat, shifting higher against her pillow. “And, as for your job,” she said with a sly smile of her own, “let’s just say I know a thing or two about the public coming for your throat, deeming you unworthy of the position you’ve fairly worked your way up to. It’s just like Nia said, you ignore it, Kara. You ignore it because you have nothing to prove to anyone, you’re already doing one hell of a job as a journalist. Remain honest with yourself, and eventually people will see it. Not everyone of course.” She tilted her head, raising her glass to her lips. “You’ll never have everyone’s approval. If you did, well, I’d say you were on another planet, because that’s certainly not how the human race are wired.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Nia chimed in, leaning up to clink her glass with Lena’s. She caught Kelly’s glass on her way back.

Kelly smiled fondly, though there was a strained edge to her expression when she said, “We’ve all had to work twice as hard to prove ourselves. And as much as it hurts, that extends to Supergirl as well.”

Kara sat back down with a sigh, leaning into the embrace that Alex readily offered her. “Cat once told me the same thing; right after she’d first claimed Supergirl, actually.”

“Exactly,” Alex said with a sage nod. She kissed her sister’s hair. “And, hey, Cat Grant won’t let a podcast beat down her creation. Hell, her empire is built on powerful women, it always has been, always will.” She gestured to everyone in the room. “You are all prime examples of that.”

Kara nudged her sister playfully, pushing out of her arms. “Hey, well, the amount of times the DEO has personally kept that building from crashing to the ground, I’d say you’re an honorary member of Cat’s empire, too.”

Alex’s nose crinkled. “I think I prefer the title of badass DEO leader, but I’ll take it.” She grinned, rolling her eyes. “The point is, you have us, Kara.”

“Yeah.” Nia beamed. “And our opinion is worth a million times more than some crappy podcast.”

“Oh, cheers to that, too!” Alex laughed and they all converged with their glasses, meeting with a raucous clash over the coffee table.

Cheers rang out all ‘round, and Kara let the simple joy of that moment infect her. Their combined laughter easily blotted out any chances of hearing another word from that podcaster’s mouth.

She'd lost the taste for eavesdropping, anyway.