#Hunger Pangs asks

[thebibliosphere]

The historical weapons nerds want to know--what are Nathan, Vlad and Ursula's preferred weapons should the occasion call for steel?

Oooooh, that's a good question...

If you're going to take away her magic, Ursula prefers a bow, but if you force her up close and personal, she's got a serrated dagger in her boot that she won't hesitate to slip between your ribs. She's also not above poisoning someone when necessary.

Nathan will always prefer claws and teeth, but as an officer in the Nevrondian Army, he's proficient with any number of weapons -- though they're currently in the time period of their world where the bayonet is heavily favored. He's also required to carry a sword as part of his dress uniform. He doesn't like it, but he's proficient with it. Same with guns. He carries a flintlock pistol on him. It's old, but it was a gift from his father before he left for active duty the first time, so he likes to keep it on him. It's never let him down when he's needed it.

Vlad's grandfather taught him how to use a spear as soon as he was old enough to hold one. Same with the Blutvarian saber. He hates both with a passion and hasn't picked either up since they fled for Nevrond. He's got a stiletto dagger kicking around his tower somewhere that he used to wear on his belt back in the day. Even before he was turned, he had the speed and precision to pierce through armor better than anyone else in his grandfather's court.

[joydemorra]

Why did you write two versions of Hunger Pangs?

WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE AND IS ONE MORE “VALID” THAN THE OTHER?

I get a lot of questions when people find out I wrote two versions of Hunger Pangs (Phangs). To answer that second question first, the only difference is that one contains explicit sexual content, and the other merely alludes to it.

The Flirting with Fangs edition (red cover) contains multiple scenes that depict sexual acts, either solo or partnered. (link)

The Fluff and Fangs edition (blue cover) is less explicit. I say less because while the scene(s) fade to black, some elements of physical affection are still shown, along with a fairly involved conversation about consent and kink. This is in the latter half of Chapter 28, and as noted on my website, you can skip this part if it makes you uncomfortable and not miss anything important to either the plot or character development. (link)

Both versions contain heat ratings and content warnings on my website. I can’t put it in/on the books themselves because Amazon is going after authors for mentioning content warnings (link), so when in doubt, check www.joydemorra.com or send me a message!

And no, one version is not more “valid” than the other. Both are canon. If it helps, think of them as parallel universes running side by side down the narrative timeline. The plot and character development remain the same; the scenes have just been altered to accommodate reader preference. 

THEN WHY DO THIS AT ALL?

As stated above, I wrote two different versions primarily to accommodate reader preference. When I first started writing Hunger Pangs: TLB, I was widely known on Tumblr for being “that erotica editor.” (link) I used to be a ghostwriter for my publishing house, too, so chances are some of you have already read my work under another author’s name*. A large chunk of my professional life has been spent writing sexually explicit content. It’s what I was then known and popular for, so it never occurred to me that anyone who was sex averse or didn’t enjoy reading about sex would be interested in my work.

And then those exact people started messaging me to let me know they were super excited about my work, couldn’t wait to buy a copy and would just skip past the sex parts that made them uncomfortable.

And that didn’t sit right with me. 

Phangs is a bit of a weird project. It was started via a Tumblr shitpost (link) and grew from there. It was funded entirely by the support of my Patreon, which people kept supporting even after it took me years longer to finish it than initially planned because my health took a proverbial nose dive into the tenth circle of hell. It is not an exaggeration to say my Patreon and Tumblr kept me alive during that time. You kept our lights on and put what little food I could eat into my fridge. You supported me both physically and emotionally during one of the worst times of my life. And during that time, I wrote the entire Phangs series, assuming it would be edited and published posthumously**. It was both my swan song and a parting gift. A means of saying thank you for all your support over the years and the fervent hope you’d feel my love on every page. Because never doubt this, I wrote Phangs for you. Phangs is a love letter to fandom from start to finish. It’s written specifically to appeal to fandom and all the things we love about it.

So when people told me they were going to buy it but skip parts of it, I felt the need to make sure they were getting equal amounts of content for their money. So the “fluff” version of the narrative was born, replacing the sex-based scenes with more emotional and “fluffy” but still intimate interactions that keep the character arcs and plot intact.

For the first book, I tried to keep the scenes as similar in theme as possible. That’s why Chapter 28 still features a frank discussion around kink and consent, as a large part of Vlad’s character arc is learning that his wants and desires matter, but more importantly, so do his boundaries. But I also purposefully wrote it so that you can skip away after that conversation and not miss anything in the lead-up to the fade to black/implied sex scene. As the series progresses, the scenes may differ more as I play around having fun with it. But the fact remains that the characterization and plot will always stay true.

It’s merely about what kind of reading experience you want.

Do I expect other authors to do this? Absolutely not. This is a labor of love. The “fluff” version being popular is merely a bonus that enables me to keep writing. So thank you. I’m off to keep working on the next story.

 *Before anyone asks, no, I can’t tell you who. I signed NDAs that are still in effect.

**Jokes on me, I guess, because I lived, and now I have to edit and rewrite all 500-f*cking-k of it. 

[neraiutsuze]

withers: hosts a lovely party where you can meet all your friends and speaks warmly to you of all you've done, even if you became illithid :)

also withers, when he's alone: bane bhaal and myrkul are idiots bc souls disappear when the host becomes a mindflayer

WITHERS BUDDY AM I STILL ME OR NOT, I'M GETTING MIXED MESSAGES HERE

between this and "tempted to eat my delicious friends' brains mid-party vs bonded with the disgraced god of song with a pang of bardic guilt mid-party" i am struggling with this existential crisis myself here

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

The way Caliban's hunger cravings are described remind me of 6 from Little Nightmares is it like that?

Well, if we're being lore-technical, then it's not exactly like that.

But you still pretty much got it on the nose!!!

Little Nightmares is one of my all-time favorite video games. Six's cravings most certainly inspired me. Hell, I actually looked up a playthrough when I was stumped on how to best describe Caliban's hunger!

(Plus, if I ever go so far as to make playlists for my characters, then this amazing LN fan song will definitely be on Caliban's.)

[welcometogrouchland]

well idk about anyone else but i- as the anon who sent u the darius camila ask in the first place, would be elated

I'M WORKIN ON IT FOR U ANON 🫡

[soopysoap]

mentionable gregstophe varients are morticia and gomez addams and finnick odair and annie cresta. not bc like oh chris is like this character gregory is like that character but bc of the sheer amount of love these characters have for each other. like they would die without the other i think and that is soo gregstophe core

[ink-beneath-her-fingernails]

something like a hunger pang

read it on ao3  |  masterlist

Fandom: Avatar: the Last Airbender

TW: major character death, mind control, brainwashing, unreliable narrator, doubting of one's own thoughts, memory loss, drowning, references to self-harm (in the form of scratching, biting, picking, etc.) please let me know if there are any other warnings that should be added.

Wordcount: 1,364

Originally Published: November 28, 2022

Summary: Your name does not matter.

You are a faceless grin, one of hundreds, of thousands.

This city makes your skin crawl because it is your home.

You know the lines that have been given to you, know what to expect without having to read the script, because it has been so handily carved into your brain for you.

(Or: Joo Dee, in the beginning, the middle, and the end.)

Notes: this started out as time loop joo dee but then it kind of took off in a different direction bc I felt bad for her but also wanted to be a lot meaner to her. title is from the quote: “It was a fairy tale, no fooling. It was unreality becoming real. This frightened her. Because people don't care for unreality becoming real. It pricks their well-fed minds, you see, with something like a hunger pang. They prefer the logical stuffiness of expectancy. It is only at certain times that they weaken, letting imagination in. That's the time to get them. (“The Disinheritors”)” ― Richard Matheson, Collected Stories, Vol. 1

Transfer Notes: n/a

i. Your name does not matter.

You are a faceless grin, one of hundreds, of thousands. This city makes your skin crawl because it is your home.

You know the lines that have been given to you, know what to expect without having to read the script, because it has been so handily carved into your brain for you.

The group of children do not look like much, you think.

You are used to a certain degree of finery from those you guide; silk and ivory, precious metals and delicately carved ornaments fashioned into buttons, hair decorations, jewelry, an air of self-importance, people who wear more on their body in one day than anyone in the entire Lower Ring makes in a month, and flaunt it carelessly.

These children are... plain.

Most of their clothes are unlike anything you've ever seen, vibrant colors so unlike the shades of green and brown and cream favored by your nation that even as bedraggled as they are, they stand out from the crowd like a sore thumb. They're dirty, too—tunics ripped and repaired with an amateur hand in more than one place, fabric frayed around the edges, covered in light stains and what seems like a permanent layer of dirt and grime that's become one with the material.

They walk with hands splayed carelessly at their sides, backs slouching with less-than-proper posture, and don't bother to so much as respond to your greeting as proper manners and tradition dictate.

Of course, it's nothing you wouldn't see anywhere you looked in the Lower Ring, and even a few places in the Middle Ring, but that's never been the sort of crowd you catered to.

You can't figure out why you're doing it now.

But then, it's not your business to do that. These children are guests, because you're guiding them, and they're important, because you've been told so, and they'll follow the rules of the city just as anyone else does, or you'll all be in trouble.

You keep all of your observations to yourself—you are not employed to think, you are employed to corral, to obey, to survive.

You introduce yourself.

Your name does not matter.

Your name is Joo Dee.

ii. Your guests wish to talk to the Earth King.

That is not a request to be taken lightly, nor is it one that will be granted quickly.

They have information they need to tell him about the war, though, and that sounds important—there is no war in Ba Sing Se, after all, and you're supposed to keep it that way, aren't you?

The request for an audience is registered. They can see the King in six months.

You frown when you hear this — or, you might, you try to, you think, but it's hard to do when you can't stop smiling. You're not supposed to be sad, either, because your life here is wonderful.

You smile a little harder when you remember this.

But your guests are not going to take kindly to this news, you can tell, and it's your job to keep them happy, keep them in line.

Besides, they say they have important information.

There is no war in Ba Sing Se, and that's the way it should be.

If anyone can make sure it stays that way, it's the Earth King.

It's a risky endeavor, but a fruitful one, you're sure.

You ask your friend in the Palace Administration to help you out.

You don't remember having a friend in Palace Administration, but you must, because you just asked them.

You don't remember meeting them, either, but that, at least, makes sense.

After all, you've known each other your whole lives, you've just remembered.

"Six months," you say. "That's an awful long time."

"Yes, well," she smiles, and like all your smiles, it does not reach her eyes. "The Earth King is a very busy man."

Her hair is so, so black, and her eyes are so, so green. You think it's a wonder that you'd never noticed before.

She tilts her head at your half-a-second too-long silence and you spend another precious, ill-advised moment staring at the way the inky curtains part, draping elegantly over her shoulders.

You wonder what it would be like to run your fingers through it.

You wonder why you never have before, if you've known her all your life.

You wonder why this is an appropriate train of thought at all, why it feels terrifying, and why it feels like it shouldn't be.

(You wonder when the last time was that you allowed yourself so long to think about something—unscripted.)

(You can't remember.)

Something about her face makes it look like she kind of wants to frown, too, but instead her lips tug up at the corners. (You swallow the sudden, inexplicable urge to wipe the not-frown from her face, to ease the sharp angle of her smile that you know from experience is too-much-not-enough.)

The slight motion is enough to remind you of yourself—to think, that you allowed such a slip. You can only hope she won't tell anyone that might take issue with it.

(You wonder why you worry so about a life-long friend betraying you. You can't remember her ever doing such a thing before. Then, you can't remember her, before.)

"Surely for his honored guests, he can make an exception? Just this once, of course. Call it a reprieve from the monotony of his usual audiences. The Avatar is eager to meet his most glorious host."

Her smile narrows, fewer teeth and more pursed lips.

"I suppose... he may be free for an audience for such esteemed guests in... seven weeks, shall we say. Just this once, you understand."

"But of course."

It's kind of funny, you think—her name is Joo Dee, too.

iii. “Joo Dee? Where have you been?”

“Not to worry. I had a lovely trip to Lake Laogi,” you smile a bit wider to emphasize your happiness.

Your face hurts. You must not have been smiling enough, at the Lake, but it’s hard to remember.

Your fingers tremble, and when you see the Beifong girl furrowing her brows, you clench your hands together tightly inside your sleeves in an effort to get them to stay still.

They sting, just a little; you can feel where they've been picked and scratched and bit at, where you can still feel nails digging into your flesh even days later.

Your hands always hurt after your trips to Lake Laogi. You’re not sure why.

iv. You see—you see.

The light is soft and green, green like plants, green like jade, green like your entire dying nation, and then there is blue, blue like your guests' clothes, blue like water from the fountains in the Upper Ring, blue like the sky you will never see again.

Blue like the ocean itself is choking the life from your lungs.

There is so much blue, so much blue it looks black, like curtains of ink you can't remember fully, and green where the light touches, and your clothes are wet, and this would be a great time for you to suddenly remember that you've known how to swim all along, but you don't, and the black keeps getting taller, coming from everywhere all at once. The ground is rumbling, the earth is splitting, you will die here.

You look at your friends, your co-workers, the only people you've ever known, the people you've never seen before in your life, and know with a certainty you have never felt before that this blueblackgreen will entomb you all, and nobody else will ever know.

The black rises above your head, and your feet grow tired of treading water, so you let it.

The water surrounds you. It's like nothing you've ever felt before, like freedom, like death, like your head is being split open from the inside out.

It's so, so blue, and the green touches so little, so little and so blue that it all looks black, and you can see nothing.

You can see nothing.

You smile, because your name is Joo Dee, and it does not matter.

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Burns Like Rum

Ship: Astarion x female!human!reader/Tav

Summary: Astarion's hunger worsens every day and you don't have any blood to spare—but that doesn't stop you from inadvertently tempting him at every turn. Luckily for both of you, you've both got the same idea to cure him of his hunger.

Word Count: 7,840 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+), menstruating reader, hungry Astarion, mutual pining, possibly OOC dialogue, vampire feeding, soft Astarion, no particular timeline but Astarion hasn't told you anything yet

18+ Warnings: period sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), hand job, bite kink, blood kink, aftercare, use of the words cunt & cock

Note: For my usual readers, more Stranger Things content is coming, I promise! But this bitey boy currently owns my heart so I'm gonna show him some love :)

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Astarion was hungry, and it was entirely your fault, for more than one reason.

The first was that, almost a month ago now, you had let Astarion drink from you. He'd been starving, and it didn't help that the others had given him strict rules about feeding, so when he flashed those sad but gorgeous red eyes at you, complaining of hunger, you'd all but gifted him your neck.

He'd practically drained you that night. You had been weak for days. Of course, the others, namely Gale and Lae'zel, were furious with you for letting him drink from you, but the sated, content look on his face after feeding made it all worth it to you. He'd become more comfortable around you after that, too, and you'd considered that an improvement.

It hadn't been all that bad, really, for him to sink his teeth into you and drink until your grip on him had grown so weak that he'd let up to check on you. In fact, it had been...rather pleasant. He'd been gentle, careful, his bite sharp but considerate. You knew then that you'd risk becoming anemic for a week just to feel the pleasure of his hand cradling your neck and head, his mouth against your neck, his tongue soothing the bite he'd left when he'd had his fill.

But in the weeks that followed, his hunger gradually returned, and with a vengeance. It was as if he'd never fed from you at all, suffering hunger pangs he hid from the others—but you noticed, recognizing them from the night he'd begged you to let him drink from you.

You'd offered him more of your blood since then, but he'd refused you every time. He could smell your guilt, your need to make him feel better simply because you felt responsible for his current pain.

"I won't accept blood from someone who feels obligated to give it to me," he'd said, and his tone made it difficult to tell if he was being snide or kind.

Sometimes, you simply didn't understand that man.

And then three days ago, you'd been injured in a fight. It was nothing fatal, the gash in your midsection missing any major muscles and not deep enough to jeopardize your organs, but it was bloody. You'd limped your way back to camp, your head swimming, the world around you growing darker around the edges with every step.

You'd fainted in Astarion's arms—although collapsed was a better word for it, according to Karlach—drenched in blood, some of which was yours and some of which that wasn't.

"You should have seen his face!" Karlach had laughed when you'd woken up the next morning, woozy but fine thanks to Shadowheart. The blood loss kept you off your feet for the day to recover, and Karlach had taken the time to visit you.

"What do you mean?" you asked, although you already had a good idea what might have happened after you passed out.

"You put him in a right pickle, collapsing on him like that, all covered in blood and losing more of it quickly," she said. "He didn't know what to do with you. It was— It was like he didn't want to drop you, but he really did want to drop you, because all he wanted to do was drink from you. Can't say as I blame him—he's not fed in weeks and you turn up with his next meal draining out of you." You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "Why'd you beeline for him anyway? Shadowheart's tent was just a few paces away!"

You glared at her through your fingers. "You know why I went to him, Karlach!" She, of all people, would understand. She had been the first person to find out that, as much as you flirted with them all, Astarion was the one you wanted.

"Well, obviously," she said, "but it didn't occur to you that he might...have an adverse reaction?"

Rolling your eyes, you snarked, "No, Karlach, it didn't, I was bleeding out and suffering from head trauma. I just...saw someone I trusted to keep me safe and ran to him."

She cocked her head to the side. "That's sweet, but stupid."

You snorted. "Yeah, I know—Shadowheart won't stop yelling at me for it."

You hadn't seen Astarion until that night, when the group of you had gathered at the campfire. It hadn't meant to be like that; you'd seen him and had wanted to talk to him, at least apologize for throwing your bloody body at him, but Shadowheart followed you closely to keep you safe and soon the others had gathered.

It had been like a very strange family dinner, made awkward by everyone dancing around exactly why you'd gone to Astarion, knowing a hungry vampire and fresh blood were not a good mix.

The final reason you were making his hunger unbearable made itself known at the end of the night, when it was just you, Astarion, and Shadowheart at the dying fire.

She must have caught sight of the way you kept looking at Astarion out of the corner of your eye, embarrassedly looking away or pretending to gaze into the trees behind him every time he caught you looking. She tapped your shoulder and told you she needed to get rest. The "you should, too" was implied, hanging in the air along with her worry about your healing.

"I'm fine, Shadowheart, really," you insisted. "I won't rip myself open again, I promise."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Astarion promised. "Nothing too...strenuous for her just yet." Something in his voice made you shiver.

She left the two of you alone. You looked first at the fire, then down at your hands, folded in your lap. Anywhere than at him.

You didn't even hear him move. You only knew he had when you felt him sit on the log beside you, one of his hands covering your own.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice soft. "I...am sorry I didn't visit you, it's just—"

"It's just that I threw myself at you when it looked like I'd taken a shower in blood and that made things a wee bit difficult?" you interrupted, the words spilling out before you had time to process that you were speaking. Embarrassed heat flushed through you instantly.

But Astarion only gave you that soft, slightly toothy smile. You drank it in, relishing his smile lines and the brief contentment on his face. "Something like that, yes," he said. "I was...worried I might hurt you if I saw you again and you still smelled so deliciously of your blood. I'm so hungry, darling, it's unbearable. All I wanted was to feast until there was nothing left of you, and I'd never forgive myself if I—"

"Stop." You held up your hand. "Please. I don't... Don't be so nice to me, it makes me feel like I'm on my deathbed."

Astarion laughed, throwing his head back. "I'd hardly call wanting to drain you nice, my love." Almost unconsciously, your gaze dipped to his exposed neck and you wondered idly what he would do if you were to bite him back.

Probably the strenuous activity Astarion had promised Shadowheart you wouldn't be doing.

He met your gaze, a sudden depth and seriousness in his crimson stare. "Stick with me, and you might soon be on your deathbed." Pointedly, he broke eye contact with you, letting his eyes drop first to your neck and then further down your body. You tingled, the feeling reminiscent of the anemia that had possessed your body in the hours and days after he'd drank from you.

You realized Astarion was waiting for a reaction from you, hoping for something more than your stunned silence. So you let your eyes drift across his body, resting on his mouth as you said, "Doesn't sound like a bad way to go out."

From the back of his throat came a sound that wasn't quite a growl or a groan, but somewhere in between, just as needy as either sound. "Don't tempt me, darling," he whispered. "I promised Shadowheart I'd keep you safe, and you certainly wouldn't be if I did everything I want."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Astarion..."

He closed his eyes, leaning toward you, releasing a tense breath. "Darling..."

"What if I want to tempt you?" You put your hand on his leg, sliding closer to him.

"Cheeky thing," he said, eyes opening in small slits. "But only when you're healed. I can still smell the blood on you." He sighed. "You have no idea how much restraint it takes not sink my teeth into that pretty neck of yours."

You frowned. "But I am healed," you said. "Just tender. Shadowheart wouldn't have let me leave her tent otherwise."

"I can't blame you for wanting me," Astarion teased, that familiar charm honeying his words, "but I've never been wrong." He cupped your cheek, his touch taking the bite out of his words. He offered you a small, sympathetic smile.

You put your hand to your abdomen, half-expecting to find that your wound had ripped open of its own accord. Your shirt and the bandage beneath it was dry—but a sudden twinge of pain, appearing only once it had been acknowledged, came from lower. You hissed.

Astarion sat up straighter. "What is it? Are you alright?"

"Shit. I think I've figured out why you still smell blood," you said through clenched teeth.

Astarion's eyes dipped to where your hand rested. "It's that time again already, is it?"

"It's early," you groaned. You stood slowly, regretting it instantly.

He tracked you as you moved, his gaze becoming dangerous and predatory. It was the look that had scared you when he drank from you, practically convincing you he wasn't going to stop. Still, his need for you burned through you like rum, its heat spreading through your belly.

"I didn't smell it before, not under all the blood you had on you," he said. His voice was deep, dark, dangerous. "But, oh, darling—I smell it now." He licked his lips and your stomach did flips that were neither pleasant or unpleasant. The hunger in his eyes was palpable

"I, ah, have to go. For your sake and mine. Um. So, uh, goodnight, Astarion. I...I'll see you when this is all over."

He stood up quickly. "Darling, do you need—" He cut himself off as you waved away his concern, crossing the camp to your own tent.

"No! Goodnight!" you called over your shoulder.

Astarion sighed. "...Night."

~❊~

You avoided Astarion like the plague. Well, perhaps not, because while you never wanted to see the disease, you were always on the lookout for your favorite vampire.

You caught glimpses of him through the open flaps of your tent, sauntering by with a swagger you found unfairly attractive. You saw him reading on his own when Shadowheart helped you changed your bandages, his handsome face fixed in concentration. A few hours later, you heard him arguing with Gale about the very same book, which had apparently gone missing, and you hated the flutter in your stomach at the growl in his angry voice.

"Stop that," Karlach said, glancing up at you as the pair of you cooked, Karlach helping you roast root vegetables evenly.

"Stop what?"

"Mooning over him," she said, jerking her head in Astarion's direction.

Your body flushed with heat. "I'm not—"

"You are, and we can all tell, and you should just get it over with, but only if you mean it."

You frowned, tearing your eyes away from the blessed sight that was Astarion basking in the sun. "Sorry, what?"

Karlach sighed. "If you sleep with him—" You spluttered. "—it had better be because you truly want him and not because you're bleeding."

You blinked at her. "Karlach, of course I want him, you've heard me talk about him before this!"

"I know, I know," she relented, "but I have a feeling there's more to our vampire than meets the eye." She glanced over at Astarion. "Just...be kind to him, dear. He's more fragile than he looks."

You followed her gaze over to him. He was stretching, his arms lifted high above his head, undoubtedly oblivious to the two of you watching him. Want and need bubbled up inside of you, both clamoring for Astarion, agreeing that he would fulfill them both. The deep-seated lust you'd had for him since he'd first put a knife to your neck burned even brighter as the breeze that had been kicking up dust all morning played with the silver hair curling around his ears.

His nostrils flared and you knew he'd smelled you. He looked over at you and Karlach and you froze. She waved cheerily, then frowned at you when you didn't move. You swallowed harshly and went back to removing the scales from the fish in your lap.

"He doesn't like not being around you either, you know," Karlach said, returning to the task at hand. "He's always looking at you when you're not looking. You're perfect for each other like that."

"I don't want to make this harder for him by being around him," you said, glancing back over at him. He was watching you as he poured himself a glass of wine. Had it been normal circumstances, when you weren't driving him insane simply by smelling like blood, you would have teased him for day-drinking. "He's already so hungry, I'd only make that worse. It was bad enough I threw myself at him covered in his favorite snack!"

Karlach snorted. The sound of a light laugh floated over to you and you looked up to find Astarion smirking into his goblet. He beckoned you over and your eyes grew wide.

"Excuse me for a moment, Karlach," you said, clearing your throat.

Karlach followed your gaze and giggled. "More than a moment, dear. I'll come back later to help you finish this." She left the log you'd been sharing and you waited until she was in her own tent again before you jumped to your feet and practically ran to Astarion.

"Hello, darling," he purred. "Care for a drink?"

"I could go for a little," you said.

Astarion smiled, that rakish charm summoning warmth that spread through your entire body. "I hope you like red," he said, and put his own goblet to your lips.

You held his gaze as you drank. You saw his nostrils flare, his pupils growing large. You knew he could hear how your heart was racing, could smell your arousal mixing with your blood.

He pulled the goblet away from your lips and took another swig. You licked the red wine off your lower lip and heard the breath catch in his chest.

"You're starving, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," he whispered.

"I might," you said. "Thought I'd say it's a hunger of a different kind."

Astarion's smirk was so wide you could see his fangs clearly. "Oh, really, darling?"

You nodded, taking a step closer to him. He breathed in deeply. "We could help each other, you know. Satiate our hungers."

His eyes grew dark, trained on yours. "Is that so?" He raised his hand, nearly brushing your cheek, but stopped himself just before he touched you. "You'd let me soothe your pain by..." His gaze dropped to your waistline. "...eating from you?"

A tremor passed through you at the sound of his voice, deeper than you'd ever heard it, laced with a danger and a seduction you were embarrassed to find attractive. Your body was tuned to it, his words seeming to drop like a stone from your ears to your core, spreading fire through your veins and melting your organs.

Astarion took a small step closer to you and took your chin in three gentle fingers, tilting your head up toward him. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you then and there. "I'm going to need an answer, darling."

"Yes." You couldn't get the word out fast enough. It came out breathy, nearly lost on the wind still swirling between you.

He chuckled. "Well, then. You asked for it." He dropped the hand on your chin back to his side. "Once everyone else is asleep, come find me. We'll find a quiet place and...have a little fun."

~❊~

Of all the nights, it had to be this one where everyone came to check on you before they went to sleep. Thanks to Astarion avoiding you like the plague when the two of you had become inseparable, your monthly bleed had become public knowledge. So practically everyone in camp came to you with solutions you declined, claiming to feel fine, even though your pain had worsened over the course of the day.

You watched Astarion slink off into the forest after the sun had gone down and waited until the others were sequestered in their tents, nearly an hour later, to pull your boots back on, stand on shaky feet, and follow the path you assumed he'd taken.

You had started to believe you'd taken a wrong turn somewhere when you heard his cool voice from behind you: "There you are. I've been waiting."

Astarion stepped out of the shadows. He ran his gaze over you, observing your slightly hunched stance, your hand on your lower abdomen. Your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him; he looked softer in the moonlight. The silver light fell across his curls and the statuesque panes of his face, somehow making that face that was so gaunt with hunger unbelievably beautiful.

He looked like a poet or a god, even in just the simple shirt he insisted on wearing around camp instead of the finer silks you knew he carried with him. Or perhaps it was the simplicity that made him so godly. You couldn't tell.

A frown graced his brow. "The pain is worse now, isn't it?"

You nodded. "Just a bit."

Astarion left the small hill he stood on and came closer to you. He offered you his hand. "Come on, dear, let me make you feel better."

You let him guide you away from the path you had taken and into a small clearing just a few feet away, conveniently hidden by thickets, trees, and tall grass. He stood aside, letting you take it in for a moment, as if waiting for your approval of the place. You looked down at the mossy ground and decided it would be soft enough.

"Well, this is nice," you said, seconds before you heard fabric rustling. You turned and blinked rapidly at what you saw: Astarion, his shirt now off and in his hands. You watched him lay it down where the ground was most level. Your breath caught horribly in your throat at the sight of the scar covering his back. You fought back the urge to ask, knowing it would only piss him off.

He turned back to you with a smile. "Your bed for the evening, my love," he said, gesturing to it.

"Oh, Astarion, I can't, I don't want to get blood on your shirt. What would the others—"

Astarion cupped your face in one hand. "The others will assume I hunted something and got messy," he said. "And I'll enjoy your scent while I have it."

Flutters in your stomach nearly brought you to your knees. You looked up at him, drawing in a tiny breath, and brought your hand up to hold the wrist that cradled your cheek.

"Please," you whispered, unsure of exactly what you were begging for but knowing what you wanted.

"Promise me you'll tell me if...I'm too much," Astarion said, and you got the sense he'd changed what he was going to say.

You nodded, whispering your promise, and wound your free hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, standing on your tiptoes to push your lips to his.

It was a messy first kiss. It was little more than teeth and spit, but it felt like heaven anyway, because his free arm was winding around your waist and pressing your bodies together, his leg sliding between yours. Bliss spread through you, starting at your core.

Astarion pulled away from you. "Someone's eager, isn't she?"

You whimpered and he stifled it with another kiss, softer than the first. He was gentle, more than you'd expected from a starving man. He cupped the back of your head and your hand dropped to his hip. You opened your mouth to him and reveled in the feeling of his tongue sliding against yours. He made a soft sound of satisfaction and pushed his leg up against your clothed core. You moaned loudly, your grip on him tightening. Need flooded you and your hips pushed down on his leg, finding relief in the pressure.

The two of you pressed your foreheads together, breathing heavily.

"Shh, darling, not too loud. You don't want the others to come investigate, do you?" His cheeky tone suggested he would love it if the others found the two of you like this—or, perhaps, further along.

You wrapped both arms around his neck and buried your head into his shoulder, heat burning through you, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. You felt like there was a pendulum inside you, swinging constantly between wanting to slow down, afraid of coming off as too eager, and desperately needing him to get to it.

Astarion chuckled. "Don't hide, love." He smoothed his hand over your hair. "You do trust me, don't you?"

You kissed his shoulder and heard his breath catch. "With my life, Astarion."

"Are you ready?"

You nodded and he walked you over to his shirt and helped you to sit on it. He watched you lay down, his gaze falling your exposed neck. There was something more than hunger in his eyes; it made your breathing hitch.

Astarion crawled over you and placed his hand underneath your head before he kissed you. You draped your arm over his shoulders, holding him close to you, enjoying the soft touch of his lips against yours. It was chaste, as were the next few that followed it in quick succession, one after the other.

One hand slid down your body and stopped at the hem of your trousers. He tugged at the shirt tucked into them. "Darling? May I?"

"Please do," you said.

"Arms up."

He pulled the fabric over your head and tossed it to the side. He looked down at your torso from where he straddled your hips. His hands skimmed over you and he leaned down, pressing more gentle kisses to your neck and collarbones. Your body tingled with remembrance, practically yearning to feel his fangs sink into your neck, to feel your blood leave you with a burning that felt like intoxication.

"Astarion." His name was a breathy cry on your lips, and you saw how much he liked the sound of it when he looked up at you, a smile curving onto the lips still pressed to your skin.

"Yes, dear?"

You gently coaxed him back up to you with your hand on his chin. "Let me kiss you."

He smiled, brighter than the moonlight falling around you, and you pressed your mouth to his. He hummed happily into your mouth, a pleasant sensation that made you reluctant to break the kiss. But you did, kissing along his jaw and down his neck instead. You nipped gently at his neck, pulling a surprised laugh from him.

"Really, darling? Biting the vampire?" Astarion's eyes were sparkling with amusement. His face had relaxed into an easy smile. It was a good look on him; you liked it.

You giggled and placed another kiss over the bite. The pair of you rolled onto your sides and you peppered his chest with kisses, your arm wrapped loosely around his waist. You went back up to his neck and sucked lightly.

"So much for the others not knowing," he teased.

You looked at him through your lashes. "What if I want them to know?"

"Cheeky little thing," he whispered, dragging a finger down the side of your face. "As much as I love this—and believe me, I do love this—I can't wait any longer. I'm starving, darling. Let me taste you. Please."

Slightly subdued, you rolled onto your back. "Alright," you whispered, your chest tightening in anticipation.

Astarion climbed on top of you again. He undid the laces at the front of your trousers and slipped his hand inside them, moving slowly and keeping his eyes locked on yours.

The moment two of his fingers slid between your wet folds, your eyes fluttered shut and a happy sigh slipped from your lips.

"There she is," he whispered, his eyes half-lidded, as he worked you gently and slowly. You felt the blood and arousal gather on his fingers as he grew closer to your entrance. He dragged them back up to your clit and rubbed in a slow circle. You gasped, arching into his touch. Astarion giggled. "Oh, you like that, don't you?"

You wriggled underneath him, trying everything in your power to get more of his touch. He smiled down at you, kissing your cheek and cooing softly at you. If he spoke words, you didn't hear them, too lost in the pleasure he easily, skillfully, brought to you.

Without warning, Astarion plunged both fingers into your entrance. You moaned, grabbing at his hair. He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Whimpers slipped past your lips; you couldn't have controlled them if you tried, but you were by no means trying. His smile grew with every sound you made, and you wanted nothing more than to see that smile.

Just as suddenly as he'd pushed his fingers in, he pulled them out. You whined instantly but he shushed you and removed his hand from your pants. A small streak of blood was left on the skin of your stomach as he raised his hand to his mouth. You watched raptly as he licked your blood from his fingers, never once breaking eye contact with you.

He wasn't even touching you and the fire in your belly grew at the sight.

Astarion moaned softly around his fingers. You watched his deft tongue catch every drop of blood, thinned by your arousal, from his hand. He whispered your name in a whine and you let go of a long breath.

Once he'd licked his fingers clean, he bent down and yanked your trousers off your legs. You spread them automatically and he put one leg between them. He pulled off your undergarments and sat back, admiring your naked body with a satisfied smirk.

"Look at you," he whispered.

The need for him to touch you won out over the desire for him to keep staring at you. "Astarion." His name was a loud whine, emphasized by your writhing hips.

He chucked. "Needy girl." His hand returned to your cunt, his palm applying pressure to your clit while his fingers toyed with your bloody folds. His eyes practically rolled into the back of his head, the smell of blood so heady even you could smell it.

He teased your entrance for a moment and pulled his fingers back up, the tips of them coated in thick blood that looked black in the night. He sucked it from his fingers with a toothy smile, his fangs peeking out over his bottom lip.

You pushed your hips up enough to catch his eye. "Please," you whimpered.

"Alright, love, alright," he said. He put his hand back and slipped his fingers back inside you. Relief curled through you—as did his fingers. "I'll starve myself a bit longer for your pleasure."

You cupped his neck and brought his face to yours and kissed him fiercely. He made a surprised but pleased sound into your mouth and quickened his pace. You gasped against his lips and he ducked his head to your neck, kissing you quickly with every curl of his fingers.

You twisted your fingers through his hair, rapidly kissing the top of his head, pushing your hips up into his hand. He chuckled, his breath ghosting over your skin and raising goosebumps. You shuddered in his arms.

"I've got you," he murmured, sucking a light mark into your neck. You felt his teeth prick you and saw the shudder that passed through his body at the tiny droplets of blood that appeared.

He pulled away from your neck and curled his fingers just so. You groaned.

"Astarion!" you cried, throwing your head back.

He grinned and quickened his pace. You sucked in a deep breath, fighting back tears of pleasure.

"Let go, darling," he whispered. "I've got you."

Astarion looked back down at your neck. He locked eyes with you as he pressed his tongue to your skin, slowly licking up the droplets as they began to run down your neck. The combination of his intense stare and the movement of his fingers was all you needed; with a loud cry, you came on his fingers, your walls clenching so hard around him he could hardly keep moving them.

He chuckled. "That's it, dear, that's it." He cooed softly, helping you through it with his voice, his soft touch, and gentle kisses to your lips.

You were breathing hard when he finally pulled his fingers out of you. You whimpered at the slight pain but realized your cramps had all but disappeared.

Judging by the state of his hand, you didn't want to know how bloody his shirt was. It looked as though he'd reached into someone's chest and ripped their heart out; his hand was drenched and rivulets of blood ran all the way down to his elbow.

Astarion giggled at the sight while you burned with embarrassment. "Well, well, well. Someone's happy, isn't she?"

"So are you," you said, nodding to the bulge in his pants.

He grinned. "Well, what did you expect? You were quite vocal, my needy little thing." His eyes drifted back down to your cunt, lust curling through his gaze. "Tight and wet and utterly desperate for me."

He licked a stripe up his hand, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, darling, you taste good." He sucked your blood off of every finger, pleasure sliding over his face.

You smiled. "There's more where that came from."

Astarion raised one perfect brow. "Can you handle another little death?" he teased.

You nodded. "I can take a few more."

He chuckled and groaned at the same time. "Oh, my love, don't make promises you can't keep."

You met his gaze as he finished cleaning off his hand. "Believe me, I can keep it."

The vampire grinned. "Very well, then. I'll eat good tonight."

He kissed you chastely as he put his hand between your legs again.

Astarion brought you pleasure unlike anything you'd ever felt before as his fingers slid over your blood-slick skin, teasing your folds and entrance with a smirk, often just barely inserting the tip of his finger before pulling it out again and tracing over your clit and smearing blood across your skin. He kissed and sucked on your breasts, leaving darkening bruises and tiny scratches from his teeth, licking up the tiny beads of blood that sprung from each nick. He kissed along the line of scarring and stitches you had gotten from your injury, fading fast but still a reminder of what had gotten you on your back for him in the first place. Now that he'd eaten a little, he was intently focused on bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, again and again and again.

He worked another orgasm out of you and was on his way to coaxing out the third when you stopped him.

"Is it too much?" he asked, frowning. His unbloodied hand moved to rest on your hip, his thumb smoothing over your skin. His eyes searched your face, looking for anything to tell him why you'd stopped him.

You shook your head. "I need more, Astarion," you gasped, slurring his name into Astari. The unintended nickname made him blush. "I need more of you. Please. Please."

The smile returned to his face, cockier than before. "Oh, darling. I need more of you, too," he said, looking into your cunt and licking his lips. "I could just eat you up."

You spread your legs wider. He settled between them. "Please do."

He breathed in deep and his eyes practically rolled back into his head. "You're going to be the death of me— Ah. Well, you would be, if I was alive."

You frowned. "Would this even be happening if you were alive?"

Astarion thought for a moment. "Let's not think about the logistics," he decided and licked the drying blood from his fingers off your abdomen. Your body trembled. He lifted your legs over his shoulders. You squeaked and smiled at him.

"Lay back," he whispered. You obliged him.

Wet warmth touched your skin just above your clit and you glanced down at him, watching him slowly lick the drying blood from your skin. He kissed your skin as he cleaned it, leaving you covered in slowly darkening bruises.

You stared at the stars as he pressed a soft first kiss to your clit. You let out a slow breath and he began to suck, his lips closing around it, his tongue licking light stripes.

You pushed your hips against his mouth. "Circles," you whispered.

"As you wish," he said, his breath fanning over your cunt and making you tremble. He went back to his feast, licking in circles this time, and you let out a soft whimper. You reached down and he reached up, lacing your fingers together and squeezing your hand. You squeezed back.

He moved further down until his nose bumped your clit and his lips found your entrance. He moaned, the sound deep and guttural, at the taste of your blood. He lapped at your entrance, his tongue sweeping up the blood as soon as it collected there. You shuddered, your breaths coming in heaves.

Astarion kissed your entrance once before he dove in, pushing his tongue into your cunt. You gasped and he laughed and buried his face in you.

Through the pleasure, you wondered dimly how he was breathing (did he, as a vampire, need to breathe?), but the thought was pushed away the moment his splayed fingers on your hip dug into your flesh and pulled you even closer to his mouth.

The sounds you were making were obscene: your moans were loud and coarse, and your cunt squelched lewdly as he drank your blood and arousal. You felt filthy, aware that the mix was running down your legs and buttocks but knowing the vampire eating you out was enjoying you too much to care.

Astarion himself was quite vocal, moaning into you and making you shiver. He whimpered, whined, groaned, and keened, growing louder with every swallow of blood. He alternated between watching you writhe and squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

You watched his hand slide from your hip to his bulge. He palmed himself through his trousers, hissing in pleasure, and the sight was enough to send you over the edge for a third time.

But Astarion didn't let up. He lapped at you, sucking so harshly your pleasure bordered pain, until your legs stopped shaking and your breathing evened out.

He lifted his head with a grin. "How do I look?"

You looked at him and started laughing. He was the smiliest you had ever seen him, his eyes practically glowing, and the lower half of his face was covered in your blood. His teeth were stained red and sticky blood dripped slowly from his fangs. It ran down his chin in rivulets and splatters dotted his lower cheeks like freckles. Some of it was even in his hair.

"You're ridiculous," you giggled. "And a messy eater."

He snorted. "Excuse you!"

"It's all over your face!"

He sat up with a grin, licking his lips. "You mean you are all over my face."

Satisfaction curled through you. "Yes," you said, reaching for him. He took your hand again. "Yes I am."

He wiped his face with his hand and licked it clean once again. You reached up and wiped some off on your thumb, then held it out to him. He took your thumb into his mouth and sucked. Your heart stopped beating.

"Feeling better?" he asked you, lightly placing his palm over your abdomen, applying a little pressure, and rubbing gentle circles.

"Much better," you said. "Thank you. But, ah..." Your gaze drifted from his beautiful, if slightly pink, face and down to his bulge. It was just as, if not more, prominent now that he'd gone down on you. "What about you?"

Astarion smirked. "I like your enthusiasm, but don't worry about me. Not tonight, darling."

You frowned. "Why not? What if I want you inside of me?" You walked two fingers up his leg and slowly covered his crotch with your palm. When he didn't protest and his eyes fluttered shut, you gave him a gentle squeeze. He let out a soft moan through closed lips and tilted his head back. You kissed the column of his neck and bit down gently. You sucked—hard—and a rumbling moan came from his chest.

"Because," he said finally, drawing in a ragged breath. "Because that would be a terrible waste of your precious blood." He looked at you with half-lidded eyes. "When this is over, I promise you, you can have as much of me as you want." He pushed his hips into your hand and you gave him another gentle squeeze. He gasped.

You nuzzled into him and his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you there. "And what if I want all of you?"

The question hung in the air. He looked at you for a long time and suddenly you saw the fragility Karlach had mentioned this afternoon, which felt like years ago instead of mere hours. You reached up to cup his cheek and, though you were stark naked, the sexual desire in the air seemed to have disappeared.

"I want all of you, Astari," you whispered. The nickname made his eyes grow wide. "All of you, in every way, for as long as possible. If you'll let me. If you want me, too."

He whimpered, and the sound was broken. You hated hearing that pain coming from him. "I want you, I do, I just..." He closed his eyes and you were suddenly very sure there was a darkness, a secret, he was trying to hide from you. You were certain it had to do with his vampiric master he'd so often complained about. "I'll try, my darling, I'll try for you."

You sat up on your knees and cupped his face in both hands and kissed him. You didn't break the kiss once as you pressed your body against his and held him tightly. You felt the scar on his back and wanted to ask but didn't, letting him keep his secrets for now.

His arms came around you, cradling your back and holding you tight to him. The kiss became a long-lasting hug, the both of you burying your heads in each other's shoulders until Astarion pulled away from you, a smile on his face. You returned that smile and sat back on your heels.

His eyes trailed over your body again. There was a note of nervousness in his voice as he asked, "Darling, would you mind...touching me again? I could use some relief."

You grinned. "Of course, my love. All you had to do was ask."

Relief crossed his face. He leaned back as you trailed your hand from his shoulder, down his chest, and back to his bulge. You tipped his head back with your free hand and kissed his neck while you rubbed him. He pushed his hips into your hand, sighing blissfully, and your hand was in his trousers in seconds. He grew loud, thrusting his cock into your hand with a power that surprised you.

"Take what you need," you told him, your voice hushed, your lips directly next to his ear. "Help me give you what you want."

He whimpered, your name a broken cry from his lips, and he cuddled into you as he came. He buried his head into your neck, hiding his eyes and barely holding back grunts. As his thrusts grew weaker and you slowed your hand on him, you felt hot tears on your neck and wondered what this poor man had been through that he hadn't yet told you.

You removed your hand from his pants and he immediately wrapped you in another hug, one strong enough to knock you down and knock the breath of you. You held him as tightly as he held you.

When Astarion at last pulled away from you, his tears had stopped but his eyes still shone with them. He kissed you softly.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... Thank you."

You brushed some of his hair from his face. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. You were... It's just that no one has cared about me during sex in a very long time and...you did. So...thank you."

You took his hand and squeezed it. "Oh, Astarion," you cooed. "I always care about you. Like this or otherwise. You could stop this right now—or before it even began—and I wouldn't have stopped caring about you."

He smiled. "Oh, darling. I love the sentiment, but I'm not done with you yet."

Astarion kissed down your body and laid between your legs again. He licked another stripe up your cunt and you saw the coating of blood on his tongue before he swallowed. "Shall we try for a fourth? Or perhaps even a fifth?" He raised his brow, leaving the decision up to you.

You laid back. "We'll try for as many as you'd like," you said.

He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "All night it is!"

~❊~

You woke up the next morning sore and alone and with very little sleep.

Astarion had been relentless and stopped only when you simply couldn't take it anymore and he was practically drunk on your blood—all without making you bloodless and woozy. When you had finished for the final time, he had cleaned you up, helped you back into your clothes, picked up his own shirt, and walked you back to camp. He was so gentle that you didn't even mind the teasing about how you limped.

Dawn hadn't been far off as you each went back to your tents after exchanging a final, solid kiss. So you woke to the sound of everyone else beginning their day just a few hours later.

You felt the soreness in your core before you even moved. Biting back a sigh and not regretting it one bit as you pictured Astarion's happy, bloody face, you rolled over and hoped your recent injury would be enough for the others to let you sleep in.

You were wrong.

Shadowheart opened your tent a few minutes later with a urgency that made you jump.

"What? What's wrong?" you asked, blinking blearily in the bright sunlight.

"Are you alright? You never sleep in, you're always up making breakfast!"

You groaned. "Is that it? Are you just hungry?"

She peered at you. "Are you hurt? Did your wound reopen?"

"What? No! I'm fine, I'm just tired, that's all! I have lost a lot of blood recently, in case you forgot."

She sighed. "Oh. Alright. Well, just know the others are worried, too—Astarion especially."

You remembered how he'd checked in on you last night and had asked if he'd hurt you at all when you'd returned to camp and wondered if you had worried him by sleeping in. Suddenly you were grateful the others could chalk it up to his not-so-secret crush on you.

You dressed and hid the light bruises on your neck and collarbones in a high-collared shirt. You only noticed you were walking with a slight limp still after you'd left your tent and made your way across camp.

Karlach called your name and was at your side immediately. "You're limping! Are you hurt? Do you need me to fetch Shadowheart?"

You blinked at her. "What? No. I'm fine!"

"You don't look fine," Gale said, a few feet away, looking up from the book he'd been engrossed in for days. "Did you hurt your leg the other day? Or have your stitches ripped?"

"My, my," said a suave voice behind you. You turned and found Astarion grinning like a cat. "You do have quite the limp, there, darling. Are you sure you're alright?"

You huffed at him, your body remembering his touch immediately, his ghostly hands sliding across your skin. "I'm fine, I promise. Now hush and someone help me make breakfast."

Both Karlach and Astarion sat with you, Astarion very close to you and giving you a smile you couldn't help but return. Karlach stared at Astarion like he'd grown two heads, her gaze flickering between the two of you. She gasped very suddenly.

"Not a word," you hissed at her, knowing she'd figured it out.

Astarion smirked.

"And nothing from you, either," you added. "You're the reason I'm walking like this, you bastard."

He smiled sweetly at you, catching the fondness in the words. "And I gladly will be again." He took your hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it. Your eyes grew wide.

Karlach squeaked.

"You know nothing," you told her. "At least for a little while."

"Yes," Astarion agreed. "At the very least, tell Shadowheart nothing—I broke my promise to her to keep our dear girl from doing any strenuous activity."

You turned red and Karlach groaned, "Not before breakfast, please!"

Astarion opened his mouth—undoubtedly to say something about how you were technically his breakfast, based on the hour you'd returned to camp—but you moved quicker than he could speak. You grabbed him by the collar and yanked him toward you, kissing him heartily to shut him up.

A heavy silence settled over camp. You cracked one eye open and found the rest of your companions staring at the pair of you, mouths agape and eyes wide.

"Oops," Astarion muttered, sounding rather pleased.

You cleared your throat. "I, ah, I've been meaning to tell you all. Honestly."

Gale heaved a sigh. "How much do I owe you, Wyll?"

Your jaw dropped open. "You placed bets?!"

"Alright, you bloodsucker," Wyll said, holding his hand out and waiting for his payment from Gale. "You win."

"Yes," Astarion said, and you expected him to be wearing a smirk infused with his charm, his triumphant eyes on the others. But when you turned to him, he was staring at you, a dopey smile fixed on his face. "Yes, I did."

☞ ❊ ☜

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

part 2 (Sweet Like Wine) {here}!

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!}

[tamed-foxes]

woke up feeling like shit to the point where I was crying but then I decided to have some chocolate pudding and halfway through the cup i felt a burst of joy and just like that i wasn’t depressed anymore

[joelmillerisapunk]

Bad Habits

Soft daddy!Joel x f!Reader

masterlist ♡ soft daddy masterlist

wordcount: 1,910

summary: In a night of passion and confusion, an unexpected proposition leaves you questioning your desires and your future.

warnings: 18+, soft daddy!Joel, implied age gap, unprotected p in v

notes: I hope you enjoy the ending. 🤭 Maybe this will be its own au. Let me know what you think. A massive thank you to @joelslegalwhre for beta reading 🩷 and @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

As the night goes on, you find yourself getting lost in the music and the dance floor, moving your body to the beat and letting go of all your worries and fears. The guy you're dancing with is cute, and he seems to be into you, but something feels off. You can't shake off the feeling that you shouldn't be here tonight.

Just as you're about to leave the dance floor and go to the bathroom, you see the older man you've been seeing on and off. Joel doesn't call your name as he walks in, but you lock eyes, and he gives you a small smile before heading to the bar. You feel a pang of guilt and confusion wash over you - why is he here, and why does he seem so calm?

You make your way over to the bar and join him, accepting the drink he's already bought for you. He chuckles, "What are you doin' in a place like this, darlin?"

You raise an eyebrow at him. "I could ask you the same thing."

He grins and takes a sip of his drink. "I have my reasons. But a smart, pretty thing like you doesn't belong here. Come home with me, baby. Please." Joel's eyes twinkle with emotion as he leans in closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently graze your inner thigh. You tense up at his touch, completely unsure of where your head is at.

"Hey now, don't be like that," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. "Come on, let daddy take you home," he whispers as his lips brush against your earlobe. "Let me take care of you. You don't have to be alone tonight.”

You hesitate for a moment, torn between your desire to be with Joel and your fear of losing your independence and freedom. But ultimately, you decide to go with him. You can't deny the pull you feel towards him, the sense of safety and security he offers you. And the way he's looking at you sure doesn't help, the way his voice softens when he calls you "baby" makes you feel safe and loved.

"Okay," you say softly. "I'll come with you.”

Joel's grin widens as he hears your response, and he stands up, taking your hand in his. "That's my girl," he says, leading you out of the bar. As you're walking out, Joel spots out the guy you were dancing with, and he chuckles softly. "Looks like you've got someone after you, darlin," he says, nodding in the guy's direction.

You look over and see the guy watching you with a disappointed expression on his face. You feel a pang of guilt, but before you can think too much, you're pulled away, Joel's grip on your hand tightens, and he leads you out of the bar. You can feel the excitement building up inside of you as you realize that you're about to spend the night with him. You can't believe it - just a few minutes ago, you were dancing with some random guy, feeling unsure and guilty about your attraction to Joel. But now, you're walking out of the bar with him, and you can't wait to see what the night has in store for you.

As you get into Joel's car, you can feel the tension between the two of you. You're both aware of the sexual tension that's been building, and you know that it's only a matter of time before it explodes. You glance over at him, watching as he navigates the winding roads that lead to his place. His eyes are focused on the road, but you can see the hunger and desire in them. You bite your lower lip, feeling a shiver run down your spine as you imagine what's about to happen.

When you finally arrive, you can hardly contain your excitement. You follow him inside, your heart racing as he leads you up the grand staircase and into his bedroom. The room is dimly lit, with only a few candles flickering in the corners. You can see the outline of his large oversized bed in the center of the oversized room, and you feel your heart start to race even faster.

Joel turns to face you, his eyes dark with desire. "I've been waiting for this all night, baby," he says, his voice low. He reaches out to touch your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. You lean into his touch, feeling a sense of safety and warmth spread through your body. Joel pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you as he kisses you deeply. You can feel the heat building, and you know that you're about to cross a line that you won't be able to come back from. But you don't care - you want this, you want Joel, and you're ready to give yourself to him completely.

As Joel starts to undress you, you can't help but feel a bit guilty. You know that you shouldn't be doing this - you know that you're risking your independence and freedom by giving yourself to him - a much older man. But the way he's looking at you, the way his hands feel on your body, the way his lips brush against your skin...it's all too much to resist.

And before you know it, Joel has you naked on his bed. He quickly rids himself of his clothes and gets to work, making you feel like you're in some acid induced love making trip. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment almost immediately. You're completely caught up in the pleasure that he's giving you.

Joel's thrusts are deep and powerful, filling you up completely. You can feel every inch of him, and it's driving you wild. His hands are on your hips, holding you in place as he takes control. You feel completely powerless in his grasp, and you love it.

"Mmm, yes, Joel," you moan, as he continues to thrust into you.

"You like that?"" He growls.

"Yes, daddy," you gasp, your hips buck against his.

Joel's thrusts get faster and harder, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Good girl," Joel murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "You like it when I take charge, don't you?"

"Yes," you barely muster.

"That's my good girl." You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge with every word he speaks. "You like that, don't you, darlin'? You like it when I fuck you like a dirty girl."

You moan, your voice breathy and filled with desire. "I love it.”

"I'm gonna make you come so hard." Joel says, his thrusts getting faster and harder. "Come on baby, say my name. Let me know who's making you feel so good."

"Daddy," you moan out, your voice breathy. "Oh god, I'm so close," you gasp, your fingers digging into the sheets. "I'm gonna come."

"That's right," Joel growls, his hips slapping against yours. "Come for me, baby. Come for daddy."

But then, in the middle of the most intense moment, Joel says something that pulls you out of your pleasure-induced haze. "I want you to travel with me this summer," he says, his voice filled with emotion.

You pull away, your heart racing as you try to process what he's just said. "What did you say?" you ask, your voice trembling as you try to catch your breath.

Joel grabs your face in his large hands. His eyes are filled with love and desire. "I want you to travel with me this summer, darlin'," he repeats, his voice softer this time. "I know you have the time off school, and I just want to spend every moment with you, exploring new places and making new memories. I want to be exclusive, just for the summer. And if after that you wanna leave and have your freedom, you can."

You stare at him, your heart racing as you try to process what he's just said. You never expected him to say something like this - you never expected him to want something more than just a casual fling, and you never expected him to ruin your orgasm with this. "I'll think about it," you finally say, your voice soft and unsure. You're overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, and you need some time to process everything.

Joel nods, understanding your hesitation. He pulls you close, holding you in his arms as he whispers soothing words in your ear. "It's okay, darlin'," he says. "I know this is a big decision, and I'm not trying to rush you. I just want you to know how much I care about you, and how much I want to be with you." You lean into his embrace, feeling his warmth. You can feel yourself getting lost in his touch, and for a moment, you forget all about your worries and fears.

Joel's hand starts to wander, and soon he's touching your clit again. You gasp as pleasure shoots through your body. "I just want to make you feel good," he whispers. "Makin’ you feel good makes me feel good."

You moan as he continues to touch you, his fingers working magic on your clit. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, and you know that it won't be long before you come apart in his arms.

"Joel," you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. "Oh god, Joel, please, I can't -"

“Yes you can. Come for me, baby. I gotcha, s'okay.”

And with that, you finally let go. You scream Joel's name as you come apart in his arms, your body trembling with the eb and flow of pleasure. He holds you close, whispering soothing words in your ear as you ride out your orgasm. When it's over, you collapse against Joel's chest, feeling completely and utterly spent.

“I'll wait for your answer, baby, take your time.” Joel whispers as his lips brush against your forehead.

You look up at him, feeling a sense of happiness and contentment spread through your body. You know that this is a big decision - a decision that could change your life forever. But as you look into Joel's eyes, you can't help but feel like this is where you belong - with him, by his side, traveling, at least for the summer.

"I'll travel with you this summer. I'll be your good girl, and I'll let you take care of me." You whisper, your voice filled with emotion.

Joel grins. "That's my girl."

[thebibliosphere]

quick question because i am a long time follower and know that you have a lot of shit happening at all times and want to support you: where's the best place/the place that will get you the most money for getting a physical copy of a silly vampire/werewolf book? It sound amazing for reading because rn all i have motivation for is fanfic and silly fantasy and not reading any of my textbooks.

Unlike digital copies, where you can buy directly from my storefront, there's little to no difference in my royalties when it comes to paperbacks. I get paid the same amount regardless of where you buy from, which the last time I checked was, eh, about $2.80

If a store is selling for above the recommended retail price, I still get paid the same flat rate percentage, the profit on the price raising goes to the store.

So, wherever works best for you!

If you're in the US, I will recommend bookshop.org, not just because they are fighting the good fight against the Zon and give a chunk of their profits to independent bookstores, but because their affiliate program pays authors the best rates whenever you buy a book using their links.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites, Flirting with Fangs Edition. (high heat version)

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites, Fluff and Fangs Edition (medium heat version)

(What's the difference between the two? Glad you asked)

Also, if you use my links to buy anything from BookShop.org, even if you don't buy a copy of Hunger Pangs, BookShop.org still sends me a small commission out of their profit (it's like a dollar per book, roughly). So, if you're so inclined to give me free money, you can click on my affiliate links and throw a little change my way.

I am trying to get my books into BookShop.org UK and their other sites, but it's a slow process.

If you're not in the US, it doesn't really affect me. Again, buy wherever works best for you! It's all roughly the same.

[tragedybunny]

Moon Blood - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW, TW: Period Sex

I know it's been done before, but it's the most delicious notion.

Reader awakes one morning to find themselves menstruating. Astarion has a plan to help them clean up.

It starts when you wake that early afternoon, your body’s way of celebrating its liberation from the tadpole apparently. Two days out from the near cataclysm and you woke to  the uncomfortable warmth of blood spattering your thighs. Early, an annoyance. Beside you, Astarion dozes peacefully, sleeping what little he needs to, arm wrapped tightly around you as though you could vanish if it weren’t. You’d been doing what you could to help the city, but after everything that had happened, he was your main priority. Perhaps that was selfish but didn’t you and him deserve a little selfishness? 

Across the room you eye the wash basin, so close but so far with your love’s death grip on you. Delicately, you try to move him, enough to slip out, but not wake him. Pushing his arm down only causes him to hold tighter and you push again, a little harder. “But Darling,” he murmurs and wraps both arms around you, to drag you close. At this rate you were going to ruin the bed in the room you’d very kindly been given. 

“Astarion,” you whisper and shake him, frustration growing. 

There’s a little pang of guilt when his eyes slowly open, you do hate to wake him when he actually sleeps. “Is something wrong, Love,” he asks sleepily. 

Unguarded and disheveled, he’s incredibly alluring, more so because you’re the only person in the world to see him like this. For a moment you forget to answer as your body fills with an ache for him, heightened by your current state. “Uh, no, I’m, I just need to get up.” 

Eyes widen, suddenly alert, and he sits up, inhaling sharply. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s…,” why is this so embarrassing, it’s perfectly natural, “it’s moon blood.” 

The look on his face shifts from concern to hunger. “Moon blood,” he repeats, glancing down to your red stained thighs, tongue idly licking his fangs.  

Warmth travels across your skin and you know it's turning a bright shade of red, the insinuation you think you hear in his tone makes you shiver. “Y-yes, love, and I need to clean it up,” he can’t really be thinking that. 

“Perish the thought my Darling,” you swallow thickly. "That would be such a terrible waste." The way he hovers over you gives you a sense of being prey and you almost whimper out loud. Reaching out, he tilts your head up, capturing you in a deep kiss, and then whispering in your ear. "Allow me." 

The thought is intoxicating even as it feels forbidden. Your mouth is too dry and your voice doesn't work. "I…," you only manage a breathy gasp after that. 

"I need you to use your words, sweet girl, and tell me that's what you want," he speaks against your ear, nipping the pointed tip of it. 

Still holding your chin, he forces you to look him in the eyes. "I-I want you to clean me up." He smiles devilishly and gestures for you to continue. Your startled mind takes a minute to realize what he wants. "Please."

"Good girl," you quiver at the words. 

With gentle firmness his hands push your shoulders back toward the mattress, before tossing the discarded blanket to the floor. "Spread your legs," he commands, encouraging you with an insistent grip on your thighs. "Gorgeous," he exhales at the sight of you. 

Kneeling between your legs, he captures your lips again, and then begins to kiss down your body, firmly pining your hands back down when you reach for him. The message is clear, you've surrendered control to him. Little nipping kisses are planted from your neck to your abdomen, special attention is lavished on your now overly sensitive nipples. You fight to keep your hands at your sides as he trails his tongue over one before you feel the sharp bite of one of his fangs. Your hips buck and you whine. "Please."

"Patience my Love." The torture continues on your other nipple until you're writhing. Only then does he resume his path, pausing just before reaching your eager sex. 

"Hmm," he torments you, "so much to savor."

He licks a wide swath over one of your crimson painted thighs and sighs. "Astarion," you whine, mad with need. 

Ignoring you, he takes his time cleaning up your thighs, savoring the taste. Working his way closer and closer to where you want him the most, only to pull away and start on the other. Groaning, you frustratedly slap the mattress. "Girls who can't behave themselves don't get my help," he teases and you quiet. 

The first swipe of his tongue against your cunt brings a moan to your lips. The euphoria has just begun though. Slow, languid licks explore you, tasting the blood and slick of your arousal, lavishing every inch of you. Astarion groans against you. "You're delectable my Darling," his words are punctuated by his tongue penetrating you, leaving you mewling. 

Two fingers start to caress your sensitive bud as his tongue continues to torture you, pushing as deep as he can. His own little noises of pleasure join yours as he devours you, lapping and sucking until you're desperately writhing against his face. "Astarion, I need t-," your words are lost as his mouth moves to your clit, taking it between his teeth and sucking. 

"Come for me my sweet," he commands, fingers entering you and moving with the perfect rhythm to set everyone of your nerves on fire. With his divine attentions you don't last long, crying his name as you see stars. 

He isn't done though. Before you can come down,  he shifts back to kneeling and looks down at you, chin painted red and eyes hazy with lust. "Yes," you breathe, in answer to the question he hasn’t asked yet. 

He thrusts inside you, the sensation of being filled so quickly, so completely, pulling another moan from you. "Always so eager for me," he growls, driving you mad. 

Holding your hips in an iron grip, he fucks you with a wild need. So much for the borrowed bed you lament for a second before being washed away again. "Gods," you pull your legs back to your chest, desperate to take him as deep as possible. 

"Fuck, Love," he groans, "taking it so good. My little bloody mess. Naughty girl might need to be cleaned up again." The words do you in a second time and you come, quivering around him. 

He doesn't let up his pace, every moment of your orgasm filled with fresh sparks of bliss, until with a last deep stroke you feel his seed pumping into you. He leans down, kissing you, and the taste of all of you on him is intoxicating. "Sorry Love," he pulls away smirking. "I don't think I was much help after all."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Help

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're struggling a bit

*TW for eating disorder*

You didn't know when exactly it started but you knew it was here to stay.

"You not that hungry?" Millie asks as you sit down next to her for lunch.

Being the youngest member of the team had its perks and this definitely wasn't one of them. Everyone else got to choose where to sit for lunch while your older teammates made you sit with them.

You shrug. "Upset tummy."

It's not exactly a lie. Your stomach churned at the idea of having to eat a big meal (having to eat at all, actually) and it was uncomfortable. But it was uncomfortable not eating as well. You had hunger pangs almost every moment of your waking life.

Eat or not eat.

Pain or pain.

"Are you sick?" Millie asks, brow furrowed as she looks at you," You look a bit sickly."

You knew what she was talking about. You used to be able to control your eating well but you had spiralled recently. You felt ill even looking at the buffet earlier and you refused to even contemplate putting more than one thing on your plate.

It had been like this for weeks now and you knew everyone could see it.

Your skin had taken on a waxy pallor. Your nails had gone brittle and your hair was thinning at an alarming rate.

You hope that everyone just thinks you're sick. You push your food around with your fork before cutting it up into smaller pieces. You had a handle on this. You would get a handle on this.

"Bad night's sleep," You offer to Millie and she takes the bait, nodding like she understood what you were saying.

"Who had a bad night's sleep?" Your captain slid into the seat on your other side, with Pernille taking the seat on her right.

"y/n," Millie says," It's why she looks ill."

"You've been having a lot of those," Magda says, eyes narrowed as she watches you.

You try to be casual but with her and Pernille's eyes on you, you feel like you're under the microscope. You take a small bite of your food, trying not to wince when it tastes of nothing but ashes. You reach for your drink.

"It happens," You say diplomatically. You don't want to give anything away.

Magda and Pernille were protective of you anyway. You didn't want them to know this. They barely let you live on your own. You didn't want to be under their gaze all the time.

"Hmm," Magda hums, still looking at you and you load more food onto your fork.

You lift it up like you're about to eat before moving it back down onto your plate again.

"I heard that Emma's planning new drills. Is it true?"

Your question distracts Magda, who huffs and starts eating her own food. Her gaze is torn away from you as she mutters things under her breath.

You don't pick your fork back up.

Your hunger pangs worsen the more time goes on. You'd barely eaten lunch and you hadn't eaten breakfast either. You just tried to fill your stomach with water, leading to a semi-impressive feeling of bloating while also being able to feel it all slosh around in your belly.

Actually, now that you think about it as you run through drills and complete your sprints, you're not too sure when the last time you ate a full meal.

Did energy bars count as full meals?

Because you ate an energy bar during the break between drills.

Either way, it doesn't seem to be working now. Black spots appear in your vision and you have to stop moving so you can stay on your feet. You scratch at your neck, somehow feeling completely dehydrated even though you know that you had drank water not even five minutes ago.

"Hey." You don't even realise Pernille's holding your waist until she speaks. "Are you okay? You're swaying."

Her eyes look worried and you try to nod but it only makes you feel worse, more black spots appearing before you go almost completely limp.

"Okay," Pernille says softly even though she's panicking on the inside," Let's sit down, okay? We're just going to sit down."

But you don't have enough strength to sit down and you've lost consciousness almost the moment you touch the ground.

"Hey!" Pernille calls out," I'm going to need some medics!"

She checks your pulse even though she's got a feeling she already knows what's happened. Magda can be distracted but Pernille can't.

She's noticed your general wariness at lunch, the way you talk more than eat and how you play around with your food. She knows that you're not eating breakfast too just by the way you ate a cereal bar this morning.

You're sixteen so you're not exactly great at cooking either so Pernille's also sure that you're not eating well at home either.

She knew that she should have put her foot down when you moved from Vittsjö to Chelsea. She knew she should have made you move in with her and Magda.

"We need to get her inside," One of the medics say.

You're almost too light in Pernille's arms as she lifts you and carries you inside.

"Is she okay?" Magda runs over to join them.

"She's not been eating." Pernille feels confident in what she thinks. "So, no, Magda, she's not okay." She lays you down on the physio bed, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I don't care what she says, she's not okay and she's not going home alone."

Magda's a little dense sometimes. "Who's she going home with? Is someone on the way?"

"Us, Magda. She's coming home with us and she'll be lucky if I ever let her out of my sight again. You've still got the spare bedroom made up, right?"

"Exactly as we left it," Magda says.

She looks down at you. You look much younger than your sixteen years as you rest on the bed. You've never passed out before to Magda's knowledge and your skin looks almost translucent as you lay there.

"She'll come around soon," The medic promises," Get her energy levels up and take her home. She needs rest." He glances around. "And I'll set up a meeting with the nutritionist for next week."

"I've got some trail mix in my bag," Magda offers," I'll grab some."

You come around slowly, blinking your eyes and squinting as you adjust to the light.

"Are you going to yell at me?"

"Why?" Pernille says," Have you done something that I need to yell at you for?"

She helps you sit up, jamming a water bottle between your lips so you can rehydrate before Magda dumps a bag of trail mix into your hands.

You hold it there.

"Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Eat," Your captain says firmly," We're not leaving until you've eaten at least half."

You have to fight to roll your eyes.

Fine, you'll play their game, nibbling on the nuts and fruit as you think of some topic to distract them both.

Only Magda doesn't let you speak.

"I don't want to hear any arguments," She says," You're staying with me and Pernille now. We've got your room ready and you'll be eating three square meals a day and snacks."

Your stomach drops. Your throat goes dry.

"What?"

Your mind works in overdrive as you try to come up with some way to make Magda change her mind. You end up deciding that the best course of action is pretending that it's all a joke.

"That's funny," You say," Is this a weekend thing or something? Because I have plans that I can't miss."

Magda's face hardens and you decide that looking at Pernille is obviously safer.

(It's not).

She looks equally as angry, if not more so than Magda. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she stares you down.

You're getting the distinct feeling that you're caught in a bear trap.

"You're a good kid," Pernille says finally as she watches you shovel trail mix into your mouth just so you had something to do," And you're so talented. I don't know what's going on but we're here to help you."

"Nothing's going on."

"There is," Pernille says firmly," And that's okay. We're going to help you."

You stand up quickly, too quickly perhaps because you wobble uncertainly on your feet and Magda has to guide you back to a sitting position.

But you still try to salvage your wounded pride.

"I'm fine. I don't need help."

"You do," Magda says," And I'm sorry that we didn't realise sooner."

"I..." Tears spill down your cheeks against your will. "I don't need help."

"We're going to help you anyway."

[wouldntyou-liketoknow]

I just realized- eating someone for the first time was frightening enough for Caliban… but what happened when the cravings returned? What happened? Did he tell his sister? When did the feelings strike?

(Apologies in advance for how long this got 😅. Dramatic effect just be like that, y'know?)

The aftermath of Caliban's first time was frantic. Neither he nor Azalea were prepared for it. The body on their hands was. . .not technically whole, perse, but it could still be used as evidence. Unfortunately, the siblings couldn't afford to dispose of said body in a more traditional way. Instead, they were forced to merely hide it until a better opportunity arose.

Once that was done, things were quiet. Tense. Caliban and Azalea trusted each other, of course, but waiting for the other shoe to drop never does your psyche any favors. Especially when there's a corpse in your house.

When Caliban's hunger reared its ugly head, he initially thought it was normal hunger. The type he'd felt before the incident. After all, food had been frequently withheld from him before. Since the cause of his malnourishment was. . .gone, he was free to eat as much as he wanted.

And he did just that. Though it didn't take long for Caliban to realize that, despite finally feeling full more often, he never felt satisfied.

Caliban didn't understand. He was getting proper meals now, wasn't he? Did he have some kind of disorder? Was he missing something that he specifically needed? Sure, he found himself wanting meat more than most foods, but meat is very nutritious, so that just made logical sense.

However, Caliban was quick to come to yet another realization. A horrifying one. His mind had been a blur at the time of the incident, but now? Now he was suddenly able to remember the awful sense of relief and joy he'd felt when he'd. . .

It took some time, but Caliban did tell his sister about this. He had to and he knew he had to—the thought of her becoming afraid of him just made him feel sick. Azalea was just as confused and anxious as her brother, but she still did her best to reassure him. She tried everything she could think of in order to help him.

Inevitably, the siblings were forced to make a gruesome conclusion. They'd both been getting better at cooking. . .nobody else knew about what Caliban did. . .and the body was still safely hidden. . .

The rest, as they say, is history.

[occamstfs]

Tenor Troubles

Masculinization spurred by a going from a Tenor to a Bass, bit of an odd one but hope you enjoy! -Occam

Max probably should have read his contract more closely. He knew that grad students across the board were getting shafted, but the agreement he has with the College of Fine Arts was some next level exploitation. He prided himself on his voice, being able to sing higher than even most of the Altos he has previously studied alongside. But his degree plan on the already signed contract suggests he is going to be enrolled as a Bass in the graduate program. Clearly there has been some misunderstanding that he’ll just need to work out with the department.

He knocks on the door of his advising professor and without waiting for a come in he bursts through the doors to see the man who is both his boss and professor staring at him less than pleased. Max’s face reddens in embarrassment and before he can even open his mouth to speak, Dr. Reyes addresses him.

“Maxwell is it. I trust you have a reason for barging into my office? I ask that you take more care towards decorum in the future.”

Max stumbles through an apology before getting to the matter at hand. “Y- yes of course I’m so sorry doctor it won't happen again, I swear.” He raises his eyes to his professor’s stern gaze, flinching back slightly as he goes on, “it’s just that, um, it looks like there was some kind of mix-up with my enrollment, I mean clearly you can tell I’m a Tenor right?” He raises his tone slightly and smiles awkwardly as he tries to make it clear to the man across from him that he certainly does not have the range.

Dr. Reyes rubs his beard, briefly covering his own mouth and wiping a smile from his face. “Well now Maxwell, there does seem to be a mismatch between your vocal training, and your preferred classes and yada yada,” waving his hands dismissively as Max’s face stains a deeper shade of scarlet by the second. Reyes goes on, “I'll see what I can do but all these changes take time If you must change your plan it’ll be at least a week. Until then if you could see to it that you fulfill the TA demands asked of you and attend your classes hm? You are under contract are you not?” The image of his signature at the bottom of contract feels burned into his retinas as he starts to reply, “well yes but-” An alarm goes off on the professor’s desk. “Very well Maxwell, if you would excuse me.”

Dr. Reyes makes his way to the next class smiling as he too thinks of the fine print of Maxwell's contract. ‘The student will become what the program asks of him.’ What a dunce one must be to sign that without an inquiry. Giving one last glance behind him to see the small student shaking with rage at the series of events, veins appearing to bulge out of his neck as he thinks about chasing after his professor, almost taking a step before grasping at his head. Max doubles over and grunts, after a painful second he rises once more and sees his advising professor enter a classroom. He exhales through his nose and walks to the concert hall with the undergraduate Bass students, the course he is, both legally and otherwise, compelled to assist with. 

The Next Week

Max is inches away from just dropping out. He was well-prepared to be constantly stressed from grad school but the wrench of working with students who don’t respect him and professors that are expecting him to sing alongside the rest of these professional bassists, it’s impossible! Dr. Reyes must be doing some sick joke on him, there is no reason it should be so difficult to fix this! He shouldn’t be graded for the university’s mistake. Beyond the looming threat of flunking these courses for his inaptitude he is also constantly hungry. His stomach rumbles and sends pangs through his body as he sits through each course on vocal instruction. He succumbs to stress-eating assuming one plate must fall and it may as well be his waistline.

Every time he indulges in his hunger he finds weight almost immediately piles on. Alongside his meticulously honed falsetto he has always enjoyed just how tight and small he kept his twinkish figure, though this begins to slip as he finds himself straining his tight pants and his stomach showing through his button ups.

The final issue lies precisely in his private vocal practice, in lieu of the training his program should guarantee. As he goes about practicing the arias and vocalizations that he typically uses as warmups he finds himself struggling to hit the highest notes. He works his way through them slowly and slips up, finding his range is peaking out much lower than it ever should. He grimaces and refuses to deign and see if his range has increased in the other direction. He goes note by note, taking his time to feel the stress and vibrations of his vocal chords. Reaching the pinnacle of the piece he strains to hit the high note and his voice promptly cracks. He feels a tear. He coughs and gasps for air concerned that he has truly injured himself. 

When no blood or further pain reveals itself Max finally clears his throat and drinks a glass of water. He tests his voice, “Uhhhh-” forcing his hand over his mouth before even getting a full syllable out. Eyes watering as he hears his voice is unmistakably deeper than it was not a minute ago. This spurs him to action as he storms to the college and bangs on the door of Dr. Reyes.

For his part Reyes is sitting at the desk finishing an email and grinning as he hears the banging grow only more fervent at his door. He finishes his email almost laughing at how effective he is at controlling the man at the door. Knock as he may he could not storm in if he wanted to, as he must desperately. Closing his laptop and reaching to grab a tea bag from within his desk he calls to allow Max entry, “Do come in Maxwell.”

Stomping into the room, unaccustomed to the new weight he carries, which Dr. Reyes is all too pleased to notice. He takes a deep breath as he prepares to shout at the professor, his chest growing as his already prodigious lungs expand. Before finishing though Reyes raises a finger and strikes him passive and mute. “Now Max, why don’t you have a seat.” He clenches his hands with a furor and sits, stewing in his mind while also rapt with attention. “How have you been liking your classes?” Max continues to sit silently watching as the prepare a pot of tea, beginning to forget his ire as he looks on in confusion at the man. Reyes turns once more and rolls his eyes, “Well go on.”

Shaking out of it Max finally starts clearing his throat a few times hoping the voice he has worked so hard to protect and train will return “I, ugh- Sorry it’s ugh!” Dr. Reyes leans against his desk and steeps the tea bag, eyebrows raised with a thin smile on his face. Failing to speak as he so wishes the rage returns to Max and he shouts out, “It’s my fucking voice! I came here to learn and all these classes are just a waste of my fucking time!”

Reyes pours the tea into a large mug and sets it in front of his student, “Now now, if you were having voice problems why didn’t you just say so Max. I am a professional after all! Have some of this and I’m sure it will set you right as rain.” The professor watches as Max grasps the mug and stares into it. He remembers that Reyes was already preparing it when he came in. But it’s not as if his advisor would do something truly untoward right? Sensing the hesitation Dr. Reyes’ eyes darken and he commands, “I did say to drink it did I not.”

Max quickly raises the glass and sips. His eyes remain dark and he continues, “what seems to be the problem with your voice young Maxwell?” Taking a break from drinking he starts to explain all of his troubles to the man who should be looking out for him. Gesturing to his clearly larger body, Reyes notices beyond the weight gain that the sitting man is adjusting himself as his pants begin to grow even tighter, his ankles growing exposed as if his legs were lengthening. 

He continues to stumble onward with his recollection, forgetting what exactly bothered him enough to storm in. Reyes half-listens and takes care to refill the tea cup as needed, taking in the physical changes to the man rambling and wondering just how far they will be able to go. Eventually Reyes speaks up, “you were having trouble with your voice, yes Maxwell?”

Max’s eyes glimmer with recognition and he almost jumps with a start, “Yes! That was it I couldn’t sing the part I auditioned with in Nessun Dorma and I was-” His professor interrupts as he takes a big swing at Max’s psyche, “Is that so? What were you doing singing that Maxwell, that’s for tenors.” As if a grenade went off in his mind Max struggles to reconcile and remember what his problem was, did he not audition as a Tenor? But he couldn’t sing high to save his life right? Or no. 

Reyes watches as Max’s brow grows sweaty in his inner struggle. He physically raises the cup to Max’s mouth helping him finish the entire pot of tea. Confident that the man before him is far enough gone to only latch on his words, Reyes offers him a bone, “which side of your range are you struggling with boy.” Feeling emasculated by the professor infantilizing him he feels an urge to test his lower range. Reyes sees the resolve in Max’s eyes and challenges him, “Go on, sing your lowest note, now.” Max takes a deep breath and produces a sonorous note sustaining it far better than he would have ever expected himself to. 

Reyes smiles and shoots to plant another seed, “Well now Maxwell, I’m not quite sure what the problem is then. Your range seems to be what any trained Baritone’s should be.” The word Baritone echoes through Max’s head as he once more grows paralyzed in his own mind. He ekes out a “B- Baritone?” his voice cracking even deeper as he freezes. Reyes watches as his eyebrows knit together in confusion, they seem to grow thicker as they near each other.

Vocal range and masculinity don’t inherently match one-to-one but the professor is more than happy to allow it, staring as the weight from Max’s stomach begins to slightly redistribute itself, it slides up his chest, straining the buttons near his collar. Reyes shifts to look at Max’s face, eyes lingering on the Adam's apple making itself unmissable on his neck. He sees peach fuzz growing on Max’s upper lip and sideburns. Thoroughly pleased with the acceleration he has achieved today an alarm once more goes off on his phone and he readies to send his protege off. 

“Maxwell dear, I thank you for your patience. Of course I know that you’d prefer to be with the other Baritone student’s though I am sure you are learning valuable information working outside your comfort zone hm? I’m sure we’ll have this snafu fixed by next week.” Max just stares in a stupor as he stares at his professor, the empty mug of tea still in his hand before he sets it down to scratch at his tighter shirt. Dr. Reyes offers him a kerchief to wipe the drool from his mouth as he leads him out of his office, “Why don’t you try your warm ups, I’m sure they’ll set you right as rain.” 

Just as he did last time he takes one last look at his growing student as he begins to wander down the hall, his pants swiftly turning from slacks to tight capris. He hears the echo of the man humming to himself as he walks down the hallway to his own office hours. He’ll need to be ready for whatever his Bass performance students need right? Can’t have them out showing him even if he’s still working outside his comfort zone. Just one more week of this and he’ll get to show off to the Baritones, once more with his choral cohort.

The Next Week

Dr. Reyes stays abreast of how his star pupil is doing this week. He visits during private lessons and checks into lectures on music theory and rehearsals. He hears the man force his voice to be stronger. After any challenge he hears the man force himself to be louder. When struggling with curriculum, surely impeded by the doctor’s manipulation, he clutches at his head as his body surges larger, tightening clothes that were already sizes too large when he started his education here.

He sees Max looking at his reflection in the mirror of a practice room. He checks his beard from every angle, tilting his head up to see his large Adam's apple and smirks watching it vibrate as he hums. He unbuttons yet another button of his shirt, allowing an even greater view of his pecs as thick chest hair spills outward. Reyes hears his voice power through the soundproofed room as he approaches. He has clearly decided to leave Baritone behind without any prodding as he endeavors to show off his talents despite ostensibly singing to himself. 

Dr. Reyes knocks on the door of the practice room and like an eager dog Max falls over himself to answer it. He now stands taller than his professor whose head now lies directly at the hairy pecs spilling from his opened shirt. Max’s eyes glimmer as he looks down to the smug face of the professor. He quickly sits down to lower himself below the doctor and eagerly awaits whatever is soon to spill from Reyes’ mouth.

“I must say Maxwell, you have truly outdone yourself. Truly you hold one of the most powerful Bass voices I have heard in my time.” Max sits quietly, his heart racing with excitement from such kind words. He struggles to stay silent, lest he speak out of turn, though he cannot hide the rumble in his chest as his deep breaths accelerate. The doctor struggles to keep it together as he sees a pulse in the unmistakable, currently growing, bulge in Max’s pants. He briefly wonders if he’s gone too far, before looking back to the man’s face, seeing his eyes still staring directly into him waiting.

Perhaps he can go farther. “Is it not a shame though, my dear Max, that you’re not a true Basso Profundo?” There is a loud tear in the room as Max’s body surges larger. He shoots up inches more in height revealing a hairy stomach and pubes that already spill beyond the bounds of his pants. Reyes hears a catch in his student’s breath and watches as his Adam's apple bulge even further from his throat. His cock bursts the zipper of his pants and Max moans loud and deep enough for the professor to feel it in his chest. Reyes can’t take his eyes from the hair covering his chest grows even darker, curling as each strand grows thicker.

Before losing control of himself and his desires Dr. Reyes forces one last statement through Max’s mind, “You know the department has always wanted a basso profundo coach. How would you feel about being an assistant professor, Max?” In response Max can only sit in awe as a look of what can only be described as pleasure stains his face, mouth lolling open as his eyes grow crossed. His hands clench the sides of his chair as he struggles to not lose control over himself and the professor. Thinking of staining the practice room only makes it more difficult to keep it together. 

Reyes feels a hunger within himself as he stares down at the massive man seconds away from cumming all over himself. In time he too will only know Max as the powerful man he is now. At this juncture however the doctor sneaks out of the practice room and heads to return to his office to prepare for office hours, what kind of a professor would he be if he wasn’t there for his pupils after all. 

Walking down the hallway he hears the man in the practice room lose control, his voice echoing down the hall before hearing him run out and to the nearest bathroom. He prioritizes increasing the soundproofing of the practice rooms before turning to see the new Assistant Professor sprint down the hallway towards the nearest restroom. Struggling to move swiftly or quietly in his far-too-strained clothing. Reyes returns to the desk and smiles once more to himself as he thinks of a future for himself, his program, and his new star Basso Profundo, before hearing yet another knock at the door. 

“Do come in.”

[rynwritesreid]

A night to remember-Spencer Reid

A/N: Okay, firstly thank you for all the love on mind-games, honestly I might post the next chapter next week but I am not sure. Also, for some reason even if you @ is correct and everything, some times tumblr won’t let me tag you :(

Summary: Spencer is back from prison, and he’s changed but not in all the ways you want. You discuss with Spencer something you’ve been wanting to try and he is willing to give it a shot.

Content: Post prison Spencer. Fem!reader. Mean dom spencer. Sub!reader. Pet names/name calling. Degrading kink. Overstimulation. Orgasm denial. Begging. Established relationship. Smut (and some fluff). Spencer asks a lot of time for your consent (as they should, especially if you are in BDSM dom/sub relationship). Begging. Sex toys. Virginal fingering. Handcuffs(slight bondage ig) 18+

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It wasn’t a secret that prison, and the whole Cat Adams situation, had changed Spencer. It was evident in the way Spencer carried himself, the hardened glint in his eyes that pierced through the darkness. The weight of his experiences behind bars had etched lines on his face, transforming him into someone unrecognizable.

 

He seemed darker; he didn’t seem to mind having to kill in order to protect anymore. He had told you on several occasions that he would kill for you, well his exact words were; “you I’d kill for you. I mean if anyone ever tried to hurt you, I would make sure that’s the last ever thing they’d do.”

 

Though Spencer had always been protective, this was new, and while the rest of the team knew what he had been through recently had changed him, they had no idea just how much it had changed him.

 

Spencer had also changed how he was at home; he was no longer ‘vanilla’, but he wasn’t exactly rough. He treated you like a princess; he would not let you go to sleep until he had at least made you cum twice. And while you loved this, you wanted him to be rough with you, degrade you, to spank you and to deny you the pleasure he so often gives you.

 

But you didn’t know how to bring this up with him. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, or like he wasn’t good enough and that you weren’t enjoying what he was doing. However, you also knew nothing would change if you didn’t bring this up with him.

 

One evening, as Spencer cooked dinner for the both of them, you couldn't help but find the perfect opportunity to broach the subject. The room was filled with the aroma of his signature dish, a comforting reminder of the old Spencer, and you felt a pang of nostalgia.

 

As you sat across from him, you took a deep breath and began, "Spencer, I know things have changed since your time in prison, but I need to tell you something that's been on my mind."

 

He halted mid-stir, his knife-wielding hand trembling slightly. You could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, trying to process the implications of your words.

 

"I want to try something new in the bedroom. I want you to be rough with me, to dominate me, to make me feel as if I'm entirely under your control. I mean don’t get me wrong I enjoy what you do now, but I want this, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

 

Spencer set the knife down carefully on the cutting board, wiping his hand on his apron before turning to face you. The look of concern had faded, replaced by a hint of curiosity and intrigue. He had always been good at reading people; this was no different.

 

"Is that all?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "You want me to be rough with you? To dominate you?"

 

You nodded, glancing down at your own hands, fidgeting nervously in your lap. A sudden surge of heat filled your cheeks as you spoke, "Yes, Spencer. I want you to control me. I want you to take me in a way that I've never been taken before. I want to feel completely vulnerable and at your mercy.

 

It was a request he had never received before, but he saw the raw desire in your eyes. He could sense the urgency in your voice, and the hunger that was burning deep within you.

 

"Alright, but I need you to trust me," he said, taking a deep breath. "This will be different, and it might be intense."

 

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. You had never felt this way before, this desperate need to be dominated, to give yourself completely to him. The thought of it made you shudder with excitement.

 

“Well, we can’t do anything now, we need to eat, so you just sit there and look pretty for the time been while I finish dinner, okay?” Spencer chuckled under his breath, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The look in your eyes told him that this wasn't just some fleeting desire, it was something that had been simmering deep within you for quite some time. He knew that he had to tread carefully, as this was uncharted territory for both of them.

 

Spencer continued to prepare the meal, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He knew that he had to show you the intensity and control you craved without truly hurting you. He needed to make you trusted him completely, and only then could he truly take control.

 

As dinner was ready, Spencer dished up the meal and served it onto the plates. Sitting down, he took a moment to observe you. Your eyes were filled with a mixture of anticipation and a slight hint of trepidation. He knew you were scared, but he also knew that you trusted him enough to explore this new territory.

 

"You have my word," he said softly, looking directly into your eyes. "I'll take care of you, and I'll make sure you feel safe and cherished throughout this whole experience. But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

 

You looked into his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over you at his promise. Trusting him was easy, you knew that. You trusted him with your life, and that was no small thing.

 

"Yes, Spencer," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I trust you."

 

He smiled; relief evident in his expression. "Good," he said, taking your hand in his. "Then let's eat, and we'll talk about what this entails later."

 

As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. This wasn't just about trying something new; it was about exploring a side of your relationship that you had never dared too before. You knew it would be intense, but you trusted Spencer to guide you through it.

 

After dinner, you both sat on the couch, the dishes cleaned up and put away. Spencer turned to face you; his expression serious but gentle.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubts.

 

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "I trust you, Spencer. I know you'll take care of me."

 

He smiled, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "I won't let you down," he promised, his voice firm and reassuring.

 

With that, he leaned in and kissed you lightly, a tender touch that spoke of the trust and affection that had always been the foundation of your relationship.

 

You watched as he moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, his lips lingering on yours. You could feel his hand gently brushing your hair off your face, his touch sending a shiver through your body.

 

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and intense.

 

You smiled up at him, your heart racing. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for. You knew that it would be intense, that it would test your limits, but you trusted him completely.

 

"I'm yours," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

 

Spencer slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a testament to the desire that was coursing through you.

 

He stood up, towering over you, his body tense with anticipation. You could see the change in him, the alpha male dominance that had been dormant for so long beginning to surface.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

 

You nodded, your heart racing. You were ready for this, ready to explore the darker side of your desires.

 

With that, Spencer reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. He led you to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation.

 

As you entered the bedroom, Spencer turned to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. He was no longer the gentle man you had known before, but a powerful and dominating presence that filled the room.

 

"Kneel," he commanded, his voice thick with desire.

 

You quickly obeyed, your heart pounding with excitement as you looked up at him. He stood over you, his muscles tense, his eyes fixed on your face.

 

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "And you will submit to me completely."

 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself to him completely. He reached down and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet.

 

"Take off your clothes," he ordered, his voice firm.

 

You did as he commanded, feeling a thrill of excitement as you stripped down to your underwear. He watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your body. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

 

He took a step forward, touching your skin for the first time. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body.

 

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

 

His hands moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

 

Spencer's lips met your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat, and his teeth gently nipping at your skin. He moved down to one of your breasts, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently. You arched your back, thrusting your chest out to meet his lips, and he took the other breast in his mouth as well.

 

He stood up, undressing himself as he did so. You watched, mesmerized, as his body revealed itself to you. He was everything you had imagined and more.

 

He stood in front of you, his erection hard and ready. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped you.

 

"No," he commanded, his voice firm. "I decide when you touch me.”

 

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading. You wanted so much to touch him, but you trusted him enough to follow his lead.

 

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and seductive.

 

You complied, your heart racing as you did so. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for, and you were ready to give yourself to him completely.

 

Spencer stood behind you, his hands resting gently on your hips. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "You're mine, and I'm going to take you in ways you've never imagined before."

 

He slowly began to touch your skin, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body. His fingers moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

 

Spencer's lips met your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat, and his teeth gently nipping at your skin. He moved down to one of your breasts, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently.

 

"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

 

"Yes," you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation.

 

As you spoke, you felt his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. His erection was now pressed against your back, a reminder of what was to come.

 

He guided you towards the bed, gently placing you down on the soft sheets. You could feel the anticipation building inside you, your heart pounding with excitement.

Spencer climbed on top of you, his body hovering above you. He looked into your eyes, his expression intense and full of desire.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "I trust you," you whispered. "I'm yours."

 

With that, he leaned down and kissed you passionately, his lips crushing against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring, and tasting you, as if to mark his territory.

 

You could feel his breath against your skin, hot and ragged, matched only by your own. His hips moved against yours, his erection pulsing with desire, and you knew that this was it. This was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment when you would give yourself completely to him.

 

He slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. You could feel the tingle of his fingers on your skin, a reminder of the journey you were about to embark on.

 

He reached down and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. You felt the rush of dominance that flowed through him, a primal instinct that had been dormant for so long but was now fully alive.

 

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "And you will do as I say."

 

His eyes bored into yours, filled with a fierce intensity that made your heart race even faster. You could see the animalistic hunger in him, the raw desire that couldn't be contained any longer.

 

He leaned down and nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, causing you to moan in pleasure. You could feel the heat of his body against your own, and you knew that there was no turning back now.

 

Spencer's lips moved up to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "You're going to love this."

 

You felt his erection throbbing against your thigh, a reminder of what was to come. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself completely to him.

 

He slowly moved his hand down your body, trailing his fingers along your side until they reached your inner thigh. You could feel the heat and desire radiating from his body, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

 

As his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin near your core, you felt a surge of pleasure and arousal coursing through your body. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, wanting more.

 

Spencer's hand continued to explore your body, moving lower and lower until he finally reached your most intimate place. He slowly slid one finger inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that welcomed him.

 

You moaned softly, your body trembling with pleasure as his finger moved inside you. He pulled it out and brought it up to your lips, smearing your essence on them.

 

"Taste yourself," he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

 

You complied, licking his finger clean, savouring the taste of your own desire. It only fuelled your desire for him even more.

 

"You taste delicious, don’t you," Spencer whispered, his eyes burning with desire.

 

With his other hand, he slowly pulled your legs apart, spreading them wide open for him. You could feel the heat between your legs growing, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

 

As his fingers continued to explore your body, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you like a tidal wave. You knew that you were completely at his mercy and that he was going to take you to places you never thought possible.

 

Spencer's hand continued to move between your legs, teasing and taunting you with its every touch. You were more than ready for him, your body trembling with anticipation, and yet he seemed to want to savour this moment.

 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath coming quicker and quicker as you felt his fingers slowly enter you again. This time, he didn't stop, pulling out and plunging back in, faster and harder with each thrust.

 

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice ragged with desire. "I want you so bad."

 

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, throbbing with need, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you.

 

"I'm going to make you scream my name," Spencer promised, his voice low and sultry.

 

As he continued to thrust into you, his fingers moving in and out of you in a rhythm that was both maddening and intoxicating, you couldn't help but moan softly, your body arching in response to his touch. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second.

 

“You look so beautiful like this, surrendering yourself to me, letting me make you moan like the slut you really are.” He whispered; his voice filled with lust.

 

Your body trembled in response, your arousal increasing with every word. You knew that you were completely at his mercy, and you loved every moment of it.

 

Spencer's fingers continued to move inside you, pulsing rhythmically with his thrusts. You could feel his erection growing harder and thicker against your thigh, and you knew that he was close.

 

"I want to hear you scream," Spencer hissed.

 

Just as you were about cum, he pulled a way, a small smirk on his face.

 

“Did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

 

You gasped, your body flush with disappointment but also anticipation. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and it was thrilling.

 

Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you beg for it," he whispered, “and remember when you are begging for it, you asked for this, you wanted this.”

 

He slowly put his fingers back in you, but his pace no longer fast, it was slow, and it was deliberate.

 

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, your body craving the release that he was denying you.

 

“Is that all you’ve got baby? And is this all it’s taken me?” he taunted, his lips still brushing against your ear. "You're going to have to do better than that, little one."

 

His fingers moved in and out of you, teasing your most sensitive spot, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body trembling with the need to cum.

 

And just like before he stopped, he wasn’t going to give in even though it was killing him not too. Your eyes were pleading with him, begging him to continue, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

 

“Now if I remember correctly, you brought toys to replace me while I was gone, didn’t you?” he smirked, his eyes locked on yours, “I think it’s time to put them to use.”

Spencer’s eyes were scanning the room, trying to see where you might have put them, he knew it wouldn’t have been in any of the normal places. That’s when his eyes landed on the wardrobe, and he looked back at you.

 

“I can see that look in your eyes, baby. You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Now did you hide them in there, princess?”

 

You nod yes, unable to form any more words as you feel a surge of anticipation and desire.

 

Spencer walks over to the wardrobe and opens it, revealing a small collection of sex toys that you had purchased while he was away. He grabs a vibrator and a pair of handcuffs, his eyes never leaving yours.

 

"I knew you couldn't resist," he smirks, his voice filled with victory. "Now, let's see how much you can take, shall we?"

 

He walks back over to you, the vibrator in his hand, and secures your hands above your head with the handcuffs. You struggle slightly, but the desire coursing through you is too intense to resist.

 

You watch as Spencer approaches you, his eyes burning with hunger. He runs the tip of the vibrator along your sensitive skin, teasing you mercilessly.

 

"This is going to feel so good, baby," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. His tone is commanding, and you have no choice but to obey.

 

He turns on the vibrator and presses it against your clit, and you let out a soft moan. The sensation is intense, and you can feel your body responding to it.

 

"That's it, baby," Spencer encourages. "You're so wet, so ready for me."

 

He pushes the vibrator inside you, and you feel it pulsate against your inner walls. "Take it all, you slut."

 

Your eyes roll back as the sensation overwhelms you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. Spencer smiles slyly, watching as you lose control.

 

"There's my good girl," he purrs. "You're such a dirty little slut."

 

He increases the speed of the vibrator, and you arch your back, trying to get closer to the pleasure. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, your body trembling with each pulse of the vibrator.

 

"Please," you whimper, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't stop."

 

Spencer grins, his eyes locked on yours. "Not yet baby. I want to see you beg for it."

 

He pulls the vibrator out of you and turns it off, leaving you desperate for more. You look at him in desperation, your pupils dilated, your breathing ragged.

 

"Please, Spencer," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "Please, I need it so badly."

 

He smirks at your desperation, his eyes never leaving yours. "You want it?”

 

With a sly grin, he takes the vibrator and runs it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You can't help but moan softly, your body arching towards him in response.

 

"Beg for it, baby," he commands, his voice a mix of desire and amusement. "Tell me how much you need it."

 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second. "I need it so badly, Spencer. Please, I'm begging you."

 

He chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's my good girl. You know exactly what you want."

 

And with that, he pressed the vibrator back inside you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. It felt amazing, better than anything you had ever experienced before. He continued to tease you with the vibrator, moving it in and out of you, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

 

"Please, Spencer," you pleaded, your voice shaking with need. "Please let me cum. Please make me cum."

 

He smirked at your desperation; his eyes locked on yours. "You're going to have to beg for it, my dear," he said, his voice low and sultry.

 

But you didn't care. You needed this. You needed him. And so, you let out a desperate moan, your body trembling with the need to cum. "Please, Spencer," you pleaded, "I need it so badly. Please make me cum.”

 

You were past the point of no return, Spencer's commands and denial only adding fuel to the fire. Your body was on fire, desperately craving the release he was denying you. You knew you could take it no longer, and yet, you found yourself begging for more.

 

"Please, Spencer," you moaned, your voice pleading. "Let me cum."

 

He chuckled, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. "Not yet baby. I want to draw this out," he said, running the vibrator over your clit, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

 

"Please, Spencer," you begged, your voice hoarse. "I need it so badly."

 

He smirked, a devilish look on his face. "But you're forgetting something, you asked for this. You wanted to be treated like a slut, but now you’re begging for me to make you cum?”

 

You knew you needed to beg for it. You needed to surrender to him, to let him have control over your body, your mind, your very being.

 

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, "please make me cum. Please, I can't take it anymore.”

 

He took the vibrator and ran it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You could feel the pulsating sensation building up inside you, your body arching towards him in response.

 

"Please, Spencer," you begged. "I need it so badly."

 

He chuckled; his eyes locked on yours. "You really are a dirty slut, aren't you?"

 

You nodded, your mind reeling with the intensity of the experience. Spencer did take some pity on you; he could see your eyes were filling with tears and he did love to watch you cum.

 

"That's it, baby," he whispered, his voice full of desire. "Beg for it, let me hear how much you need it."

 

You choked out the words, your voice rough with need. "Please, Spencer. Please make me cum. I need it so badly."

 

He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, aren't you the perfect slut?"

 

With that, he turned on the vibrator and ran it over your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched your back, your hips bucking against the vibrator.

 

"That's it, baby," he urged, his voice filled with command. “Cum for me, letting me see what I can do to you.”

 

And with that, you felt the orgasm building up inside you, closer and closer until you couldn't take it anymore. You let out a loud moan of pleasure, feeling the waves rush through your body as you finally succumbed to the desire that had been building up inside you.

 

"That's it, baby," Spencer said, his voice filled with triumph. "You're mine, every bit of you, and you'll never forget this moment."

 

You lay there, panting and sweating, feeling completely spent. Your body was trembling, your mind was still reeling from the sensations you had just experienced. You felt like you had been pushed to the limit and beyond, but you also knew that you had never felt more alive.

 

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, you couldn't help but feel a sense of submission, a feeling of being completely under Spencer's control. You knew that you had begged for it, and you had enjoyed every moment of it.

 

Spencer leaned down and kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "That was incredible, baby. You'll always be my dirty little slut."

 

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride in the role you had played in this scene. You knew that you had given him exactly what he wanted, and that feeling of power was exhilarating.

 

“Now I am going to go get some water, because that was intense.” You watched as Spencer got up to go get some water, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for him.

 

You knew that Spencer was also going to need so aftercare, because that was his first time doing something like this, but you also knew you were going to have to drink before you could do anything.

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