Ysera - Tumblr Posts

The Aspects but they're the Cinnamon Roll Meme

Looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you: Alexstrasza

Looks like could kill you, is a cinnamon roll: Nozdormu

Looks like could kill you, could kill you: Malygos, Neltharion

Looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll: Ysera

Sinnamon Roll: Wrathion, Kalecgos. Especially Kalecgos.

Honorable mentions, Tarecgosa looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill you, Korialstrasz looks like he could kill you but is a cinnamon roll, Ebyssian looks like he could kill you but is a cinnamon roll, and Sabellian is a little b1tch.

Alexstrasza: Where's Malygos, Ysera, and Nozdormu? Neltharion: They're playing hide and seek. Alexstrasza: Where? Neltharion: I don't think you get how this game works.

Neltharion: Anyone d- Malygos: Depressed? Nozdormu: Drained? Ysera: Dumb? Alexstrasza: Disliked? Neltharion: -done with their work... what is wrong with you people ...

Neltharion: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? Malygos: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it. Neltharion: Three of us saw it, Malygos. How do you explain that? Malygos: *points at Ysera* Sleep deprivation. *points at Nozdormu* Paranoia. *points at Alexstrasza* Delusional.

Neltharion: What’s something you guys are better than Malygos at? Ysera: Mario Kart. Nozdormu: Yeah, video games. Alexstrasza: Emotional vulnerability.

Neltharion: Bye Malygos! Bye Ysera! Bye Nozdormu! Bye Alexstrasza! Bye Malygos! Ysera: You said ‘bye Malygos’ twice. Neltharion: I like Malygos.

Neltharion: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the items you have lost throughout your life Malygos: Self-esteem, haven't seen you in years! Ysera: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this! Nozdormu: I knew I lost that potential somewhere! Alexstrasza: My moral code, is that you? Neltharion: Neltharion: I was just gonna show you this cool trunk my mother left me but do you guys need a hug?

Neltharion: There are seven chairs and ten kids. What do you do? Malygos: Have everyone stand. Ysera: Bring three more chairs! Nozdormu: The most important ones can sit down. Alexstrasza: Kill three.

I second this, give me Malygos.

Alright, gonna get some hate for them maybe, but Ysera should NOT come back

Death is already cheap in WoW. There are so many ways a person can come back, that when a character dies, its assumed not permanent. However, we get this entire stupid questchain in Ardenweld with Ysera and her shitty little wildseed, and oh no boo hoo, she’s gonna die for good because anima!!!111, or some shit, I don’t know, I did it once and didn’t pay attention because

Every. single. Shadowlands. Quest. Was dumb. Was really, really, REALLY dumb.  Shadowlands as an expansion was so hilariously mishandled lore wise that it’s just…it’s not even fair to talk about it. We all know. But even just taking the Afterlives, it was extremely dumb of them to have them encompass all realities. 

Anyways, back on Ysera: Ysera’s work was always outside of mortal structure, except if you are a druid with some merit. She worked during the Cataclysm, off screen, while the player did the real work, but…that was it.

She has really never been important, never had any reason to be beloved. I loved her in Day of the Dragon, and how Knaak personified her, but everyone loves to dogpile on Knaak, so whatever.

A better dragon to bring back would be Malygos. But nahhh. He’s

1: Male 2: was evil?

or Onyxia but

1: evil white woman 2: bones burnt?

Or Nefarian but 1: Evil 2: Old ugly model 3: Bones burnt

Whatever, I have no idea why Blizzard is so attached to a dragon that did fuck all for 10k years. The green flight is the least active of all of them, and really fucking boring.

end rant

WIP wednesday!

tagged by the lovely @nyx-knox! 💕 thank you!

distracting myself from the horrors of the upcoming chapter of adrift by focusing on a later, far more lightheaded bit of mischief. shoutout to the five seconds ysera was going to have levels as a bard before i made her a pure sorcerer. she is cringe, but she is free.

tagging: @verbenaa, @xxnashiraxx, @elinorbard, @roguishcat, and @shewhowas39, and @atsadi-shenanigans!

Adrift : Chapter 6 - Into the Ocean

pairing: Astarion/f!Tav | Astarion/f!OC rating: 18+ MDNI word count: 6.2k tags/warnings: friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, smut chapter tags/warnings: mentions of trauma, manipulation, dissociation ────────── chapter summary: Astarion shushes her with nothing more than a finger over her lips. She leans into his touch without realizing it, and her eyes flutter closed. “You'll just have to trust me on that one,” Astarion insists. “You're not the monster you seem to think you are, love.” And for once, in the stillness of this moment, there is only, mercifully, him. No voices, no lingering doubts. No fear. AO3 ┊ masterlist | series masterlist

They've made camp in the abandoned village that lies between the Grove and the goblin camp, taking advantage of the beds they find and the buildings that are still standing.

Bed or not, Ysera's spent another night tossing and turning, caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness that's left her yawning and rubbing at her eyes as she, Astarion, and Shadowheart comb through upturned furniture and half-destroyed homes for anything of value they can use in a fight. The last time they came through they were too busy dealing with the half-dozen goblins and their ogre entourage to do much more than pocket a few bottles of wine and scraps of food before they made their way into the swamp to kill the hag.

Wyll, Gale, Karlach, and Lae’zel are somewhere on the other side of the village; better to split up and cover more ground, they had all agreed. 

As they pick over the remains of someone's kitchen, Astarion spots a hatch buried under an old cabinet. They're all too weak to lift it, so in lieu of Karlach's strong muscles and heavy axe, Ysera conjures a bolt of fire to disintegrate it. Sweeping the cinders away with her boot, she lifts the hatch and the three of them descend into the darkness below.

They can all see well enough, but Ysera speaks the incantation for Dancing Lights and illuminates the tiny cellar with a faint glow of pale blue light. There isn't much left besides a few rows of mostly empty shelves and barrels full of spoiled carrots, but they pocket whatever isn't already destroyed or rotten.

Shadowheart is the first to climb the ladder back up to the ground floor, complaining about the dust that's irritating her nose and causing her to sneeze profusely. Ysera's right behind her, but as her lights circle overhead, she catches sight of something that piques her interest.

Tucked away on top of an old desk is a small chest, sealed with a lock that glimmers in the magicked light. Upon closer inspection, the lock is worn but not completely rusted through, and the promise of potential treasure has her reaching into her pockets to fish out the thieves tools she tucked away before.

She could (and probably should) ask Astarion to do it for her. He's so much better at these sorts of things, but doing so would mean actually having to talk to him. She's been not so subtly avoiding him for the past three days, ever since the night he propositioned her. She's too embarrassed to pretend she's not interested. Ysera's never been good at deception, and that's without considering she'd be trying to lie to a man who can quite literally hear the way her heart would flutter and her pulse would quicken.

And so, she slips the picks into the lock and begins to test the pins, brows knit in concentration as she fumbles through the movements.

She feels Astarion behind her before he speaks, her body tensing at the sudden proximity of him.

“Oh, what's this?” he drawls in that infuriatingly mischievous tone of his. “Trying to keep all the goodies for yourself, are we? How scandalous.”

She's thankful her back is to him so Astarion can't see the frustration on her face.

“Not exactly,” Ysera sighs, still struggling with the lock. “I don't even know what's in here. If only I could get this damn thing open, then I could –”

Her heart leaps into her mouth when Astarion invades her space, chest pressed against the curve of her spine as his arms slip over her shoulders and his hands glide over her wrists.

“You're trying too hard to brute force it, darling,” he murmurs against her ear, fingers caressing the backs of her knuckles as he takes her hands in his. They're so much larger than hers, completely capturing them as he guides her movements with subtle flicks of his wrists.

Ysera feels the first pin lock into place with his assistance before Astarion moves onto the second. Her pulse drums loudly in her ears, mouth dry as she swallows thickly. The scent of him is rich and earthy, filling her nostrils with every deep breath she takes in a futile attempt to keep her composure. If Astarion notices – and he must notice the effect he has on her – he pays it no mind.

Another pin clicks into place. Only two more remain.

“See?” Astarion instructs, conducting her movements with precision. “You must be delicate. Gentle.”

She's hardly paying attention, but she nods anyway. She's trembling when she mutters a hasty, “O-okay,” squeezing her eyes shut. The last two pins slide into place before she realizes it, and the lock pops open with an audible click. But Astarion is no longer interested what's inside the chest. Instead, he sets his hands on the desk on either side of her, using the extra leverage to press the full length of his body against her. His breath is cool as it fans out across her neck, making her shiver with more than just anticipation.

"I can't help but notice that you've been keeping me waiting, darling,” Astarion says matter-of-factly. “Playing coy will only get you so far.”

Ysera opens her mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. She can't think straight when he's this close, flush against her and forcing her hand. Her voice comes out less firm than she intends when she says, “Well, Astarion, has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I just don't –”

“No,” he interjects, and Ysera doesn't need to see his face because she can hear the overconfidence dripping in his tone.

Insufferable bastard.

“You can lie to yourself,” he says coolly, “but not to me. I know what you want.” His hands settle over hers again, thumbs tracing idle patterns over her skin. “What you need. And I can give it all to you. You only have to ask.”

Ysera twists around to face him so her back is against the desk, narrowing her eyes. It's an immensely stupid idea, because the moment she meets his gaze, all sharp edges and practiced seduction, the brunt of her anger is smothered like a dying fire.

“And how is it, exactly, that you know what I need?”

Ysera doesn't know how she manages to maintain eye contact with him, issuing a bold challenge as she lifts her chin and sets her jaw. Astarion merely laughs at her little display, clearly more amused than intimidated.

She's stubborn. Astarion will enjoy humbling her.

“Why, your body's already given you away,” he says, eyes tracing a slow, purposeful path across her face and down her throat. “I could feel it when I was getting lost in your neck. Your little… shakes of excitement.”

He watches Ysera swallow thickly, her hands gripping the desk just a little too tightly for it to be casual.

“You think I enjoyed it?”

“Oh, no, darling. I know.”

The pink in Ysera's cheeks spreads down her neck, telling Astarion all he needs to know. He exposes his fangs in a wide grin, leaning forward just enough so that his mouth is hovering mere inches above her own.

If she lets him kiss her now, the game is over. They both know it. Ysera's eyes flutter closed and she breathes deep, resigned to letting Astarion make the decision for her. But just as his lips brush against her own, the sound of Shadowheart clearing her throat makes them both snap their attention towards her instead.

“I hate to interrupt,” she says sternly. “Actually, no, I don't, but is this really the time for such a thing? The others will be looking for us if we don't get back, and I am not telling everyone that the two of you are shacking up in some dusty cellar.”

She wrinkles her nose and grimaces at them both, clearly unimpressed. Ysera gets the feeling that she's scolding them like misbehaving children, which only makes this all the more humiliating.

“Then don't,” Astarion scoffs, unfazed. “Tell them we were waylaid by goblins and you fled in terror. We'll look so much more heroic when we miraculously reappear.”

Ysera is absolutely mortified when Shadowheart groans and rolls her eyes. “Do whatever you will. Just leave me out of it.” She ascends the ladder without further comment, making a statement by dropping the hatch closed behind her. 

The cellar is silent for a moment as Ysera and Astarion separate.

“I think she's jealous, don't you?” Astarion says, laughing in delight when Ysera reprimands him with a glare. He's all fangs and smug satisfaction, matching her energy with a sly wink before he strides past Ysera towards the ladder that leads back upstairs.

“Have it your way, darling,” Astarion says dismissively, taking the rungs in his hands as he begins to climb. “There are worse places I could have had you.”

Ysera blinks at him in disbelief, embarrassment, anger, and desire warring for supremacy within her mind. She watches him leave, remembering the unlocked chest at the last second as she retrieves her lockpicks and tucks them securely in her bag.

When she flips up the lid to take a look inside, she groans loudly before slamming it shut once more.

The chest is completely empty.

——————————————

There's a small lake not too far from where they decide to make camp for the evening, close enough that they'll reach the goblin camp early the next day, but not so close that they may end up attracting any unwanted attention before sunrise. After a day of hiking through the summer heat, Ysera's more than ready for a bath.

The lake is concealed behind a small grove of trees, giving her the first real moments of privacy she's had since their little adventure began. The water is cold as it laps against her shoulders, washing away the dirt and grime gathered on her skin. She's waded out just far enough to submerge herself, but not quite far enough to lose her footing. Even though the water here is calm, it doesn't change the fact that she still can't swim, and she's already avoided drowning once before.

The bar of soap she bought from the hag back at the Grove is surprisingly nice, lathering against her skin and smelling of lavender. Ysera scrubs her body clean and does what she can with her hair, relatively satisfied by the time she tosses it back into her pack on the shore. She returns to the water, simply content to relax as long as she can before whatever comes tomorrow. 

Ysera pinches the bridge of her nose and dunks her head back beneath the water. She tries opening her eyes but can't see much beyond the faint moonlight that illuminates the lake, and even then it disperses just below the surface. When she pops back up, the sight of Astarion watching her from the shore makes her sputter and frantically cover herself.

“There you are,” he says, as calmly as ever.

“Astarion!” Her voice cracks around the syllables of his name, betraying her embarrassment. “What are you doing out here?”

“You were taking an awfully long time, darling,” he points out, hands crossed nonchalantly over his chest. “Given recent events, I thought it best to make sure we didn't need to involve Withers. Can you believe he wants so much gold for a simple resurrection? What a creature like that even wants with coin is beyond me…”

“I'm fine,” Ysera assures him, offering him an apologetic smile. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

“You've got it all wrong,” Astarion corrects her with a wave of his hand. “It's my coin purse I'm concerned for, not you.”

“Uh-huh,” she says dismissively, rolling her eyes even though she's still smiling at him. “Well, I won't be long, so rest easy knowing your gold is safe.”

“Actually, I think I'd rather join you,” Astarion says, untucking the hem of his shirt from his trousers. When her flicks his gaze to her face, his mischievous smile is unmistakable. “If you don't mind, of course.”

“What?” Ysera sputters, flustered. “Here? Now?”

“Yes, of course,” Astarion replies, as if he hasn't just suggested something scandalous, lifting his shirt over his head and tossing it into the grass. “Unless there are any other conveniently located lakes around here suitable for bathing?”

She watches his hands settle over his laces as he waits for her to agree to his proposition. When Ysera nods and beckons him to join her, Astarion makes quick work of them, shimmying out of his pants as Ysera turns her back to give him some privacy. The last thing she wants is to be caught gawking at him.

With his clothing discarded, Astarion wades out into the lake, clenching his teeth as the icy water bites into his already frigid body. “Don't worry,” he tells her, catching her attention when she glances back at him over her shoulder. Hand over his heart, he says, “I'm not here for anything untoward, I assure you. Just a bath. You've made it more than clear you aren't interested in anything beyond my company.”

Ysera knows he's calling her bluff, daring her to admit to herself that she doesn't want him. There's something conflicting her – this much Astarion knows – although he can't begin to imagine what that might be. If only Shadowheart hadn't intervened before…

“I'm not entirely sure that's true,” Ysera says suddenly, much to Astarion's surprise. He turns towards her and cocks an inquisitive brow, prompting her to continue.

“Listen,” she says with a resigned sigh. Her expression is grim when she looks across the water at him. “I want to. I do. You're very… let's say, persuasive.”

She's finally admitted it, but the somber tone she's taken doesn't exactly suggest she's enthusiastic about the idea.

“It's just… it's been a long time since anyone's touched me. Like that, I mean. I don't want to hurt you.”

Astarion barks out a laugh, amusement dancing across his face even as Ysera frowns at him.

“You've nothing to worry about, darling. Your kind may be a bit, shall we say–” he pauses, searching for the correct word “– feral , but it's nothing I can't handle. Your teeth certainly aren't as sharp as mine, but I'll try anything once.”

“That's not what I meant, you ass,” Ysera grumbles, mortified by Astarion's insinuation. But the seriousness of the situation quickly sobers her, and she glances down at her upturned palms as she lifts them out of the water. She flexes her fingers and takes a deep, bracing breath.

“It's my magic. It's not always something I can command,” she explains. “It gets worse when I'm angry. Or when I…" Her cheeks go pink and warm. "Well, you get the idea. It hasn't been much of a problem yet, but it's only a matter of time until it happens.”

She refuses to look at him, unwilling to let him see the shame in her eyes. But when Astarion scoffs dramatically, she can practically hear the way his eyes roll. She forces her gaze up to meet his own.

Hands on his hips, Astarion says, “You mean to tell me that we have not one, but two ticking time bombs in our camp? How wonderful. And which goddess can I thank for your particular affliction?”

“I swear to the gods, Astarion,” Ysera deadpans. “I will electrocute you.”

Astarion shakes his head and arches his brows incredulously.

“And yourself along with me? No, darling – I don't think you will.”

Purple lightning arcs between her fingertips, illuminating the curve of her lips as she smiles a little too sweetly at him.

“Wouldn't I?”

“What are you – be careful!” he hisses, taking several large steps backwards, enough that he loses his balance and topples face first into the water. He resurfaces violently, embarrassed and grumbling under his breath like a wet cat. “Irresponsible, impossible woman. What have I done to deserve such an injustice?”

“Last I checked, you were the one courting me. You've no one to blame but yourself, darling ,” she says with a playful sneer, mimicking his preferred term of endearment.

Astarion stares at her, a deep frown marring his otherwise handsome features. He furrows his brow and scoffs, arms crossed over his bare chest as rivulets of water trickle down his neck and face. He's damn near pouting, and she revels in it.

“Irrelevant,” he mutters, turning his nose up like a petulant child. “It's hardly my fault you're being so… difficult about this.”

“I’m sorry for causing you such a terrible inconvenience by caring about your safety,” Ysera says solemnly behind an affectionate laugh. “That was very inconsiderate of me, and I promise it won't happen again.” 

The fact that he makes her laugh complicates matters even further. She isn't entirely immune to his attempts to seduce her, but it's the moments where she gets a glimpse of the man behind it all when she feels a genuine connection with him. A connection that's far more difficult to ignore than his pretty face and sultry voice.

A comfortable silence settles over them, and Astarion regards her thoughtfully for a few moments. He strides forward towards her without warning, stopping only a few paces away, close enough for Ysera to reach out and touch him if she wanted.

And she does want to. But her arms hang uselessly at her sides instead.

“You won't hurt me,” Astarion says. He says it like he's so sure, as if he hasn't seen and heard more than enough by now to know there's something inherently, irrevocably wrong with her. He says it not as though he's certain that he can protect himself, but as if that necessity won't even arise at all.

Is he arrogant, or just ignorant? He's seen her nightmares. He knows what lurks within her.

“How can you be so certain? You're not the first one who's –”

Astarion shushes her with nothing more than a finger over her lips. She leans into his touch without realizing it, and her eyes flutter closed. 

She's tired. Tired of running, tired of denying herself even the simplest of pleasures. Fear is a powerful motivator, but the only place left to run is straight into Astarion's arms. When the logical part of her brain screams at her to stop being so selfish, that it's never been about what she wants , she finally finds the strength to cast the thought away, choosing instead the low, enticing timbre of Astarion's voice as it washes over her like a soothing balm.

“You'll just have to trust me on that one,” Astarion insists. “You're not the monster you seem to think you are, love.”

And for once, in the stillness of this moment, there is only, mercifully, him. No voices, no lingering doubts. No fear.

Astarion's fingertips slide delicately beneath her chin, tipping her face up to meet her eyes, wet with tears she doesn't remember shedding. Gods, she never wanted him to see her this way. She averts her eyes, but he holds her firmly between his thumb and forefinger, compelling her not to hide from him.

“Ysera, look at me.”

There it is again, the use of her name, spoken so gently as though it might break. Reluctantly, she obeys, taking her time to drink in the sight of him as her eyes climb over the toned muscles of his chest, the solid line of his shoulders, the pinpricks on his neck that are a twin to her own where he has marked her.

At last, she gathers the courage to meet his gaze, staring up at him through the hazy sheen of tears upon her lashes.

Gooseflesh blooms over her neck and forearms, and when his expression softens, her heart almost seems to seize in her chest. It's almost as if he sees her – the real her – and not the frightened little girl she's been since the very moment she crawled from the smoldering remains of her childhood home. It should make her uncomfortable to be this exposed, but instead… she feels safe, in a way she hasn't in so long.

Drowning in the depths of his ruby irises, Ysera almost forgets to breathe. Time seems to slow as Astarion curls his fingers upwards, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye. His breath fans out across her lips, beckoning her closer.

“You’re not a monster,” Astarion repeats. “Believe me, I would know.” 

The emotion in his words are enough to shatter her last line of defense, and Ysera finally gives in, letting Astarion capture her lips in a devastatingly gentle kiss. Her eyes flutter closed and she finally lets go, surrendering herself to him completely.

——————————————

The moment Astarion kisses Ysera, he feels… nothing.

Her lips are soft, and she yields so beautifully to his touch, pliant and malleable as he slides his hands down the soft curves of her hips and hooks them under her thighs. He coaxes her into his waiting arms, satisfied by the way she jumps up to wrap her legs around his waist. Ysera's lips part willingly for him when Astarion runs his tongue against the seam of her mouth, letting him taste her with as much enthusiasm as he can muster.

She must enjoy it because she throws her arms over his shoulders and kisses him back, hungry and breathless as he carries her out of the water and towards the shore. There's a patch of soft clover just beyond the trees that line the lake, and Astarion lays Ysera there amongst the leaves, sun-kissed skin damp and gleaming in the moonlight.

She smiles kindly at him, golden eyes blazing with desire. He lets her card her fingers through his damp curls as he swings a leg over her hips, bracketing her body beneath him. Her touch is exploratory and almost shy, featherlight as she maps the broad planes of his shoulders and chest. When he's let her indulge for long enough, he sets himself back upon her, drinking in the soft little moans that tumble past her open mouth.

It's a strange feeling, to choose to do something his body has no desire for. And yet the decision was his and his alone, one made freely for what must be the first time in more years than he cares to count. It feels good to choose, he tells himself. This feels good.

So as his mind begins to drift and his body settles into familiar routines, the revulsion surging within him suddenly feels substantially less significant.

One more. What is the burden of one more soul against the weight of thousands? Against his freedom?

He may not know the particular rhythm of her body, but he will learn it quickly enough. Desire is a language he knows well, so fluent that it may as well be his native tongue. A quick dance of fingers across her stomach has Ysera arching her back and inhaling sharply; she exhales with a trembling whimper in response to the trail of open-mouthed kisses he leaves across her throat and between her collar bones.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against her skin, voice rumbling against the junction of her neck. “You are positively breathtaking, darling.”

“So’re you,” she says back, giddy with laughter. “I've never…” she bites her lip, “never seen anyone as handsome as you.” Her words are half slurred through the haze of her desire, but she manages.

Astarion fixes Ysera with a practiced smile, letting her catch a glimpse of his fangs. He knows she's more than fond of them by now, another asset he can use to his advantage. She responds as eagerly as he had intended, wetting her lips with a swipe of her tongue as her eyes swirl like molten honey.

“Do you know what the best part is?” he asks her. Ysera shakes her head softly. Her heart thunders wildly in her chest, breaths becoming shallow as Astarion’s hands glide tantalizingly over her bare skin. He pinches the taut bud of one of her nipples between his fingers and Ysera cries out in pleasure, writhing beneath him.

“The best part is that no one else will ever know. None of them will have the pleasure of seeing you like this. Will they, darling?”

Ysera throws her head back and bunches her hands in the clover as Astarion rolls her nipple between his fingertips, kneading at her other breast with his free hand. “N-no,” she croaks, teeth bared as she arches into his touch, completely at his mercy. “Only you.

“Very good,” he purrs, replacing his fingers with his mouth as he leans down to taste her. Her skin tastes of soap and linen, the scent of her filling his nose. With one nipple between his teeth and the other between his thumb and forefinger, Astarion lavishes her with unrivaled ecstasy, grinning against her as she moans and shudders beneath him.

“Oh… A-Astarion…!”

He recognizes the fear in her voice now, can feel the raw power coursing through her body like a raging torrent. Swept up in its current, Ysera's knuckles are bone white as she balls her fists and uproots the clover in her hands, struggling to keep her magic at bay. Her palms grow hot with flickering flames, turning the soft stems to ash.

Astarion rises and catches Ysera's wrists in his hands, pinning them gently together above her head. When her fire dissipates, his fingers thread tenderly through her own, and she seeks comfort by squeezing his hand. Tears prick the corners of her eyes.

“I'm sorry,” she says, apologetic and unwilling to look him in the eyes. “I'm sorry, I could have –”

Astarion shushes her with a firm shake of his head.

“None of that, darling,” he says, splaying his other palm over her stomach. Just enough contact to remind her what it feels like, but not enough to push her back towards the edge so soon. He waits patiently for her to look at him again, giving her hand a firm squeeze when she finally searches for his face.

“Focus on me,” Astarion commands. “On my voice.” He dips low to press a kiss against her lips. “On my mouth.” He takes the swell of her breast in his palm, cupping her gently.  “On my hands. Can you do that for me, Ysera?”

Ysera nods in assent, blinking away the last of her tears. Her heartbeat slows its wild pace, and a moment of quiet passes between them. She watches Astarion carefully, cheeks growing hot beneath the intensity of his gaze.

She looks as though she has something more to say, but Astarion swiftly breaks her train of thought by sliding his knee between her legs and coaxing them open. Ysera shudders as Astarion bares her slick core to the open air, keeping her hands obediently above her head as he settles himself between her thighs.

“I’d like to taste you, darling,” he proposes, dragging a single icy finger down the inside of her thigh. “May I?”

“Wouldn't it be better if you bit my neck?” Ysera asks innocently. “Or at least my wrist. Surely that would be more satisfying.”

The finger on her thigh halts abruptly. Astarion assesses her, dumbfounded when he realizes she's serious. He clears his throat and gathers his composure.

“I assure you it would be quite satisfying, darling. But I had something… else in mind tonight.” Astarion spreads Ysera's legs wide, the evidence of her arousal more than apparent. His eyes flick from the space at the apex of her thighs to meet her own, a sultry smirk affixed on his lips.

“As much as I enjoy your blood, I've been thinking about how sweet the rest of you must be.”

The sound of Ysera's heart is music to Astarion's ears as she finally understands.

“Oh,” she says shyly, her face still such a fetching shade of scarlet. “Nobody's ever done that to me before.”

Astarion's brows lift in surprise. “Never? Oh, darling,” he drawls, voice tapering into a growl. “I am going to ruin you. ”

Ysera doesn't breathe as Astarion descends between her thighs, propping himself on his elbow as the other hand grips her tightly. Her whole body trembles as his breath ghosts over her slick core, a whimper caught behind her teeth before he's even touched her.

Astarion laughs softly, gazing up at her as she watches him intently. “You're practically soaking for me, aren't you? Let me show you what you've been missing.”

The moment Astarion sweeps his tongue through her slick folds and across Ysera's aching clit, she releases the breath she's been holding in a high-pitched moan, toes curling as she draws one leg up and writhes against him.

“Oh,” she says again, voice stretched thin. “Oh, Astarion, that's good. Don't stop. Gods, don't you dare stop.”

He's barely even touched her and already she's praising him. He knows he's good, but he barely even has to try now before she's been reduced to a babbling, incoherent mess, murmuring his name like a desperate prayer as her hips undulate with every pass of his tongue against her.

When her hands reach for him again, Astarion starts suddenly and pulls away, just beyond her grasp. Ysera's golden eyes flicker with confusion as she stares at him between her legs, the expression on his face clearly troubling her.

“Astarion?” she asks, so sweetly that it makes his stomach turn. “Did I do something wrong?”

The roiling tide of thoughts within his mind subsides, and Astarion clears his head with a shake of his alabaster curls.

“No, darling,” he lies, convincingly enough that she seems to believe him. “I was merely caught up in the moment. Were you enjoying yourself?”

“Uh-huh,” Ysera admits quietly, settling her arms back at her sides. “I want you to keep going… if that's all right with you.”

The softness in her eyes stirs something within him and Astarion immediately looks away, busying himself between her legs again.

They never ask what he wants. They're not supposed to ask what he wants . 

The sound of Ysera's cries make it easier for him to let go, to imagine that she's no different than the rest of his lovers, taking advantage of the skills he's honed across two centuries of practice. Astarion works her with his tongue, circling her clit, pressing flat against her entrance, teasing her ever closer towards the precipice. He considers sliding his fingers inside her slick heat to prepare her for his cock, but after what happened earlier he decides against risking the overstimulation.

His thoughts are elsewhere when Ysera's thighs begin to shake; she's close, the desperate little noises she's making only confirming what Astarion already knows. She comes with a shout, tail thrashing through the clover as a ragged cry tears her throat raw. Her chest heaves with each breath she takes, her entire body trembling as Astarion continues to lick and suckle on her tender bundle of nerves.

“Gods,” she groans, legs straightening as she stretches out. “That was incredible.”

Astarion sits up on his calves, wiping her slick from his lips with the back of his hand.

“A pity that I was your first,” Astarion says smugly. “I've set your standards unreasonably high.”

Ysera huffs and rolls her eyes. “Normally I'd say you were overestimating yourself as usual, but you know what?” she says, head lolling back against the soft earth beneath her exhausted body. “I think you're right.”

She lifts her head when she hears Astarion shifting slightly, palms braced on her knees as he wraps a hand around his cock and gives himself a few quick jerks. It's the first time she's actually gotten a decent look at it, and the sight of the pink tip emerging from the top of his fist with each pump of his hand nearly makes her mouth water.

“Let me fuck you,” Astarion says, the head of his cock catching on the entrance of her dripping cunt as he lines himself up. “Let me remove any lingering doubts you still have about my capability in bed.”

He might not be her first lover, but he will be the best she's ever had. Of that, he is more than certain. After tonight, she'll be wrapped around his finger.

“If I said I didn't have any, would you do it anyway?” she asks, flashing him a coy smile. Astarion slides his hands beneath her knees and lifts Ysera's legs, beginning to slowly sheath himself inside her. 

“Gladly, darling.”

Ysera gasps at the size of him as his cock slowly works her open, pain and pleasure intertwining with every delicious inch he pushes in. Her head falls back and she spreads her legs wide to accommodate him, hips rolling as she adjusts to the intrusion.

The cool sensation of his cock nestled within the inferno of her slick walls is unlike anything she's ever experienced before, threatening to unravel her completely by the time Astarion is fully seated inside of her.

“Fuck,” she breathes, a pleased little laugh bubbling in her throat. “You can move now. Don't make me beg.”

“Careful,” Astarion growls, teasing her with a few quick, shallow thrusts. “You're giving me such wonderful ideas.”

“Even you aren't that cruel,” Ysera quips back, breathless.

“You're right,” Astarion agrees, “I'm not.” Hands braced on the crook of Ysera's knees, he pulls himself almost completely out before slamming back inside of her, pleased by the way she immediately hisses and lets out a low, wanton moan. He fucks into her again, hard and deep, searching for the spot that will make her see stars.

Astarion knows he's found it when Ysera's back bows high and she claws at the ground beside her, desperate for something to hold onto. He angles his hips and hits the spot again and again, punching a string of oaths and whimpers from her parted lips. It doesn't take long before she's ready to come for him again, helpless to do anything but let pleasure overtake her.

“You like it like this, don't you?” Astarion grunts, pistoning into her with rough, brutal thrusts. “Who would have known that our sweet little sorcerer has such dirty little fantasies?”

“Shut up and fuck me,” Ysera groans between gasping breaths, hiding her face behind her hand to conceal her embarrassment. Astarion is more than willing to oblige her, fingers digging little crescent moons into her skin as he drives himself deep inside her.

“Ahh… Astarion, ‘m gonna…” she mumbles before long, and Astarion can feel the way her whole body tenses, a taut string ready to snap.

“Good,” he huffs, releasing one of Ysera's legs to trace lazy circles over her clit. “Come for me, darling, show me how good it feels.”

No sooner has Astarion made his demands than does Ysera come hard on his cock, the walls of her cunt fluttering and pulsing as he fucks her through her orgasm. The way she spasms and whines beneath him brings him swiftly to his own climax, and he empties himself inside her with a groan, sweat clinging to his brow as his hips stutter with the last of his erratic thrusts.

With Ysera utterly spent, Astarion withdraws from her and runs a hand through his hair, sweeping his disheveled curls out of his eyes. He watches her stretch out again with a satisfied sigh, eyes closed and a lazy smile on her face.

“Heh,” she laughs, tail swishing happily through the clover. “Wow. Consider me ruined.”

“I did warn you,” Astarion reminds her, starting to get to his feet. Ysera cracks an eye open and whines in protest, hand waving in the air as she grabs at him.

“Aw, come on. Stay,” she says, rolling over on her side. “What's the rush?” Astarion eyes her cautiously, but her request seems sincere enough, and he settles back down in the grass a few paces away, cross-legged and contemplative. 

“All right,” he says, a little more distantly than intended. “If that's what you want.”

“That's what lovers do, isn't it?” she asks, propping herself up to get a better look at him.

“I suppose they do,” Astarion agrees. “Is that what we are, darling?”

“We don't have to be. Not unless you want to.” The soberness of her voice surprises him, and Astarion feels his gaze softening as he meets her striking golden eyes. There's something disarming about the way she looks at him, her earlier concerns resurfacing.

Concerns not about her own feelings, he realizes, but his . No one has looked at him like that before. Astarion buries the cacophony of thoughts that come unbidden to his mind, uprooting his uncertainty at the source before it poisons him completely. 

No , he reminds himself. He has no time to be soft. He can use this to his advantage. No more, no less. This is the only way he can guarantee his safety. A moment's weakness could spoil everything.

So when he lets his own smile spread across his face, Astarion is nothing but confident when he says to Ysera, “I suppose that's what we are, then.”

Kinktober 2024 Day 1: Mirror Sex

pairing: Astarion/f! Tav | Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) rating: 18+ MDNI word count: 4.3k tags/warnings: piv sex, fingering, established relationship, porn with feelings, soft Astarion ──────── summary: Astarion watches the way her face lights up as she speaks about him, affection for her warring with the disappointment he feels that she doesn't extend that same kindness to herself, that she either cannot or does not see herself the way he does. It's a feeling he's all too familiar with. He knows the way those kind of thoughts can fester. If he does nothing else tonight, it will be to ensure that she never has cause to doubt herself like this again. AO3 ┊ kinktober 2024 masterlist

Ysera's never been to a fancy ball before. Wyll himself had dropped by their home the week prior at the behest of his father, inviting both her and Astarion to the High Hall to celebrate the one year anniversary of the fall of the Netherbrain. “A most regal affair,” he had called it, a night full of celebration, dancing, and feasting.

Ysera had gladly accepted Wyll’s invitation, realizing only after she had taken a cursory glance at her wardrobe that she had nothing appropriate to wear to the celebration. Astarion had balked when she'd suggested they pay a visit to Figaro to commission something, insisting that he would much rather do it himself (by which he meant properly) than pay the haughty dwarf even a single copper for his services. 

With less than a week before the ball, Astarion had already finished his own ensemble. The jacket alone featured a damask motif embossed into the fabric and hand-embroidered embellishments of gold and silver, both of which would be sure to turn more than a few heads.

Her own gown would be its twin, and although Ysera would have been just as happy in something far less ostentatious, the thought of playing the part of a wealthy noblewoman for the evening did fill her with at least a little excitement. As a child, she'd often daydreamed about what it might be like to live in a fancy palace and spend her days entertaining various lords and ladies, and this was perhaps the closest she'd ever come to fulfilling that childhood dream.

Presently, Astarion kneels before Ysera and busies himself with her gown, measuring and marking as he goes. His brows are knit in concentration, mouth pressed into a thin, taut line. Ysera feels almost swallowed by the amount of lace, tulle, and other fabrics, struggling to see Astarion at all over the voluminous skirts that flow down to her ankles. Her feet hurt from standing for so long, but Astarion had insisted it would be easier for him to properly hem and make adjustments to the garment if she was actually wearing it rather than fussing with it on a mannequin.

Ysera glances sidelong at the mirror beside her, golden eyes tracing the outline of her gown and the intricate details Astarion has embroidered across the bodice, made of the same embroidered fabric as his jacket. The gold and silver thread he's used to accent the dark fabric glimmers in the candlelight, a sea of shimmering stars across a sky of midnight black. The bodice displays just enough of her chest to be tasteful and tapers at her waist, accentuating her curves. The skirts allow her plenty of movement – the only request she had made – almost too full but certainly appropriate for such a high-class celebration.

She should be pleased to wear something so lovely, and yet…

As her eyes drift from the gown to her reflection, her expression sours. Lovely as it is, it only serves to highlight her own imperfections: her face, plain by comparison, the scars that mar her cheek and neck, as well as the other various blemishes that are suddenly glaringly apparent. Her waist and hips have filled in somewhat during the past few months, and her body has lost much of the lean, toned muscle she had acquired while traveling across Faerûn with Astarion and the rest of her companions. The skirts of her gown thankfully conceal most of her lower half, but that doesn't stop her from feeling self-conscious.

The thought occurs to her that maybe Astarion had styled it that way on purpose, to draw attention away from the less appealing parts of her body, but she refuses to entertain such an absurd thought for any longer than necessary.

And it is an absurd thought, isn't it?

The more she looks at herself, the less she likes what she sees. With a soft sigh, she turns her head away, but she can't help but frown. Her own appearance had never been anything of much importance for most of her life. Some of her previous partners had been rather attractive, but none of them had been nearly as handsome as Astarion. And at any rate, most of them had been nothing more than a one-night affair, where looks were largely irrelevant once the lights were out.

Astarion is the only man who's ever made her want to feel pretty. A shame that she hasn't lived up to her own expectations. What must he think when he looks at her? Is he disappointed?

As if he's read her thoughts, Astarion glances up at her, and their eyes meet briefly before she looks away. She prays he hasn't noticed something is off, but to her dismay he clears his throat to get her attention.

“What's the matter, darling?” Astarion asks. His expression softens when her face falls. “Do you not like the gown?”

Ysera shakes her head quietly.

“No,” she replies, her own voice sounding foreign as it comes out small and timid. She tries to smile at him but she can tell by his reaction her face is anything but happy.

“I love it. It's just…” She hesitates out of embarrassment. Finally, she admits to him, “I feel like it might be wasted on someone like me.”

A frown furrows Astarion's brow. He gets to his feet and sets his tools aside, turning his full attention to her. The troubled way he looks at her makes Ysera feel guilty, and she chews absently on her bottom lip.

“What do you mean?” he presses. Astarion's voice is heavy, not with anger or disappointment, but with concern. He takes her hands in his own, leveling a glance at her that she's reluctant to return. She doesn't want to look into his eyes, to see the pain she knows she'll find there. He waits patiently, smoothing his thumbs over the back of her hands.

Talk to me.

“It's beautiful,” Ysera concedes glancing down at his handiwork. Astarion's talents have grown significantly in the past months, and this gown in particular may be his best work yet. But then again, he pays no expense when it comes to her. It's obvious he intends her to make a statement at the ball, one way or another.

“It’s a gown fit for a patriar’s daughter.” She expects him to preen beneath her praise, but his expression remains troubled. Ysera sighs again.

 “And I'm just… well, me.”

Plain. Ordinary. Certainly not worthy of such splendor, even if she is one of the famed heroes who saved the city. She hadn't chosen any of it, of course; she was simply a random victim plucked off of the streets who happened to luck her way into survival.

Astarion tenses and tugs her off the stepstool she's been standing on for the past hour, and her bare feet brush against the floor as she tumbles into his arms, where he catches her. He still hasn't finished fitting her bodice, and the fabric almost slips off her body before Ysera gathers it up and holds her arms around herself to preserve her modesty.

Astarion's eyes widen slightly as if in surprise before narrowing again. She knows he isn't pleased with her assessment.

“When have I ever given you the impression that you were anything short of perfect?”

Ysera's chest tightens at the strained tone in his voice; it's clear he blames himself for her lack of confidence, and she hates the way that makes her feel more than anything. 

“Never,” she assures him. He's been nothing but supportive since the night he first confessed his feelings for her – longer than that, if she really thinks about it. “But you're obligated to –”

Astarion cuts her off with a vehement shake of his head, his frown deepening. She lets him spin her around so they're both facing the mirror, but her attention is trained on Astarion as he stands behind her. 

“I am not obligated to do anything, Ysera.” She can't see his face, but it's easy enough to make a guess about how stern he must look by the sound of his voice. It's a tone that brokers no room for rebuttal.

“Do you remember the night I asked you to be my mirror?”

“Of course,” Ysera says. It's one of her fondest memories, one of the first times he trusted her enough to let the mask slip, if only for a moment. The way he had asked her opinion of him so earnestly, the sadness and longing in his eyes making her second guess everything she thought she knew about him.

Recalling what she'd said to him is effortless. “I remember telling you how much I loved your eyes,” Ysera says. “Your smile. The way you laugh when you tell a particularly awful joke.” Her reflection smiles back at her, beaming as she thinks about everything she loves about him. The list is much longer now then it had been back then, and she takes the time to properly admire every entry she's mentally catalogued during their time together.

Astarion watches the way her face lights up as she speaks about him, affection for her warring with the disappointment he feels that she doesn't extend that same kindness to herself, that she either cannot or does not see herself the way he does.

It's a feeling he's all too familiar with. He knows the way those kind of thoughts can fester. If he does nothing else tonight, it will be to ensure that she never has cause to doubt herself like this again.

With a resigned sigh, Astarion admits to her, “Did you know that at the time, I was convinced that you were simply telling me what I wanted to hear? You wouldn't have been the first person to do so, after all.”

Ysera's mouth opens to refute his words, but a firm squeeze on her shoulder convinces her to listen to whatever else he has to say.

“But the first time I saw myself through your eyes – truly saw myself – I knew then that I had been wrong.”

She had done more than simply tell Astarion what she thought of him that night. With his permission, she had used their tadpoles to let him look through her eyes, to see himself for the first time in two hundred years. Once he had processed exactly what it was he was looking at, had studied every inch of his face and nearly turned away in revulsion, he had felt it: Ysera's affection for him, undeniable and so sincere that he hadn't known what to do with it at the time. He was a monster, and yet she had looked at him without a trace of fear or hatred in her heart.

“Of course you were,” Ysera says in protest. “You're –”

Astarion clicks his tongue in disapproval and shakes his head.

“Shh,” he scolds her, not unkindly. His arms wrap around her waist from behind as he molds his body to hers, chest flat against her back. He rests his chin on her shoulder. The fabric of her gown bunches beneath his arms, but without his reflection she can't see the tender way he holds her as she stares at herself in the mirror.

“This isn't about me, love,” he murmurs, sensing her distress. It's not the first time he's wished they were still tadpoled, this time so he could show her just how perfectly she fits in his embrace.

Astarion presses a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“Now… would you like to know what I see when I look at you?”

Ysera’s breath hitches, and she considers his offer.

“Yes,” she breathes, after a time, voice hardly above a whisper. She cranes her head to look at him, but he gently guides her attention back to her reflection, insistent that she does not look away. It pains him that she still thinks so little of herself after all this time.

“I see a woman who is kind and resilient,” he tells her, “who isn't afraid to throw herself head first into danger to protect the people she cares about.” The ribbon holding back her hair comes free with a quick tug, and her pink tresses spill over her shoulders and frame her face.

Astarion continues: “I see someone who was dealt an extraordinarily bad hand but kept fighting, despite the odds against her. And most importantly… I see someone who is loved.”

There are tears welling in her eyes when Ysera turns in his arms. She lets go of the dress, and without the additional support the loose fabric falls gracefully to her feet in a pool of inky black, leaving her in nothing but her underthings as she takes Astarion's face in her hands and kisses him. His mouth yields effortlessly to her, opening enough so that she can sweep her tongue between his lips and show him just how grateful she is for his kindness. He kisses her back, slow and soft.

“Don't sell yourself short, darling,” Astarion says, capturing her chin between his thumb and forefinger when they part for breath. His eyes are a deep, dazzling red, half-lidded and full of longing. “I won't hear another word of it.”

Ysera blinks away her tears and looks up at him. She can't help the grin that spreads across her face, the way her heart seizes in her chest as his words finally begin to sink in. Oh, how she loves him.

“Thank you, Astarion.”

“Oh,” Astarion says with a huff of laughter, fangs gleaming as he throws her a playful smile. He scoops her into his arms and sets her on the edge of his work table amongst the array of sketches and bolts of fabric scattered across the polished surface. “You thought I was finished?”

Ysera's face grows hot beneath his scrutiny. She should be cold, dressed in so little clothing, but the way Astarion looks at her makes her whole body feel warm and tingly. 

“I haven't even told you about those striking golden eyes of yours,” Astarion murmurs, “and the way they blaze more brightly than the sun.” He cups her face with his hand, smoothing the pad of his thumb over the jagged scar beneath her eye. “Or your scars that remind me of how strong you are.” He can see the effect that particular compliment has on her almost immediately. Ysera leans into his gentle touch, the coolness of his skin, and sighs.

“And here…” He presses his fingertip between her covered breasts, dragging it slowly down her stays. Ysera flushes a deep red and squirms in embarrassment.

Astarion laughs in amusement. “Your heart , love,” he says, rolling his eyes dramatically. “What did you think I meant?”

She pouts at him, but it's all for show. He loves to tease her, and she makes it so easy for him. After a moment, Astarion places his broad hands on either side of her ribcage and slowly drags them down her body. Ysera shivers as gooseflesh blooms in their wake. His eyes have darkened slightly, and when the candlelight catches them she sees shades of black interspersed between ruby reds.

Astarion's fingers sink into the soft swell of her hips, tender but possessive. She bites back a noise but can't completely conceal the soft moan that escapes her lips.

“Those gorgeous hips of yours,” Astarion says now, “so perfect for digging my hands into when I kiss you.” To substantiate his claims, he dips his head to capture her mouth in a searing kiss, tongue pressing against the seam of her lips before she opens for him. He hums in approval, kissing her with a slow, purposeful intensity as his tongue explores her mouth, savoring the taste of her.

He pulls away just as Ysera's eyes flutter closed, leaving her breathless and panting slightly. Astarion's gaze lingers on her face a moment longer before trailing downward, admiring every inch of her body before halting between her legs. Ysera follows his line of sight and flushes again when she realizes where he's looking.

Astarion's voice is low and playful when he says, “And don't even get me started on your –”

Ysera swats at him before he can finish, too embarrassed to hear him say the words. “Astarion!”

The corner of his mouth quirks upwards, brows raised. She laughs softly and gives him an apologetic glance. 

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Her tail twirls happily, not a trace of her earlier uncertainty still present in her expression. Like a wilting flower exposed to sunlight after languishing in the darkness, Astarion's affirmations have breathed new life into her.

She really is beautiful. And he would very much like to kiss her again.

So he does. This time there is more passion in his movements, and she slips a hand into his hair as her ankles lock behind the small of his back to pull him closer. 

With one hand still anchored on her hip, Astarion takes her other hand and guides it between his legs. Her breath catches when she feels his hardening erection, the outline of it stiff beneath his trousers. He breaks the kiss and keeps his face close to hers, close enough for her to hear the growl in his voice.

“Do you see what you do to me, Ysera?” he says to her. “How badly I want you? How much I need you?” She brushes her hand over his clothed cock and exhales another sigh. Her golden eyes are wide, pupils blown as she looks up at him and nods quietly. 

“My beautiful girl,” Astarion says, and it's somehow this above all his other praises that makes her heart flutter. Her hands lift to the buttons on his waistcoat at the same time he reaches behind her back to unbind her breasts, and in only a few short moments they've undressed each other completely. Ysera's eyes are everywhere: his sculpted torso, his nimble hands; the perfect angles of his face, and of course his cock, now fully hard and eager for her.

The way her eyes rove hungrily over his body stirs something deep inside him. He wants her – gods, does he ever want her – but he can be patient. For her, he can do anything, will do anything.

Ysera's legs part with only a little coaxing as Astarion slips between them, their bodies flush together as he positions himself in such a way that her head rests comfortably on his shoulder. When her vision focuses, Ysera sees he's purposely positioned her to watch herself in the mirror she had been so hesitant to look into before – to see how she looks at the peak of her pleasure.

Without Astarion’s reflection to interfere, her full body is on display, and she stares anxiously at herself as Astarion commands, “Don't look away, my love.”

She swallows and nods, composure broken the moment Astarion's hand works its way between her thighs and his fingers part her folds. A sharp gasp tears itself from her throat when he brushes past her entrance, gathering her arousal and spreading it along the path he traces to her clit. As his fingers spread her open, Ysera struggles not to squeeze her eyes shut, whimpering when he teases the bundle of nerves with gentle passes of his dexterous fingers. He is gentle and patient, pleasuring her for the sake of her own enjoyment over his own.

Ysera's hands settle around his back and she clings tightly to him. Astarion has her moaning incoherently before long, but she keeps her eyes trained ahead, even though her vision swims. The hand not currently occupied between her legs traces the curve of her spine, his blunt nails dragging a path down her back as she arches into him.

“Are you watching, Ysera?”

Ysera murmurs the closest thing she can to a “yes,” fascinated by the way her body accommodates the two fingers he begins to press into her dripping cunt. Her thighs tremble as he sheathes them inside her and caresses the spot inside her that ignites every nerve ending in her body with pleasure. The sounds she makes are music to his ears.

Ysera watches as Astarion pumps his fingers inside her, dragging soft whimpers from her throat each time he pulls out before pressing in deep once again. He is silent but for the occasional groan when her walls clench around his fingers, careful not to distract her from her reflection. Each time he spreads her open she can see the arousal gathered between her thighs, how eager her body is for more of him.

Only someone as intimately familiar with her body and its needs as Astarion is could bring her this much pleasure. He remembers what she likes because he loves her, because she is important. Because he wants her to enjoy every second of their time together.

“I am not obligated to do anything,” he had said.

Ysera's heart constricts in her chest before fluttering beneath her ribs like a caged bird. He knows she's finally beginning to understand.

“That’s my girl,” Astarion purrs. “Are you ready for me? I want you to see how stunning you look when I'm inside you.”

“Uh-huh.”

As soon as she gives her consent, Astarion pulls away from her, just enough to line his cock up with her entrance as he spreads her arousal over his length. Her mouth falls open as he slips his fingers over her tongue, letting her taste herself before he kisses her again. Ysera's eyes fly open as he pushes himself inside. Her body barely has to adjust to the intrusion, the combination of her wetness and his earlier efforts more than enough to make it easy for him to sink himself to the hilt.

Astarion meets her gaze briefly before she looks over his shoulder once more. Her body rocks in time with his thrusts as he fucks into her and messages her breasts in his hands. It's much easier for her to abandon her intrusive thoughts when he's lavishing so much enthusiastic attention on her, reassuring her that his praises are far more than just empty words.

His cock stretches her wide each time his hips roll forward, burying himself inside her inviting heat. There is no urgency to his rhythm, and she can feel every inch of his cock that much more precisely as he makes love to her – and that's what it is, for there are no other words to describe how gently he holds her, how focused he is on pouring his passion into every thrust of his hips, every open-mouthed kiss he places across her neck.

“Look how well you take me, Ysera,” he groans into her ear. “We were made for this – for each other.”

How could it be anything but true? She can see the evidence of it herself, there in the mirror, how her body molds to him, his precome and her own slick glistening between her parted thighs as he makes her feel so complete. Her face is contorted in pleasure, slicked with sweat, hair damp and clinging to her shoulders. 

When Astarion releases her to place one hand on her hip, her breasts bounce freely between their bodies. His other hand grips her chin, averting her gaze back to his face. 

“Do you understand now?” he pants. Astarion looks at her with a strange sort of reverence, his gaze soft and intense all at once. 

“Yes,” Ysera breathes. “Yes, Astarion.” Flawed though she may be, that is why he loves and admires her – not in spite of her imperfections but because of them. There is no one else like her, no one who even comes close. And if ever she should doubt herself again, this night will be the only reminder she needs that her fears are completely unfounded.

“I'm sorry,” she apologizes, throwing her legs around his back and tightening the grip of her arms around him. Astarion sighs and offers her an affectionate smile before shaking his head.

“Hush, darling,” he says. “You've nothing to apologize for. I've lived long enough without a reflection that I know how easy it can be to lose sight of yourself. My only regret is that I didn't notice sooner.”

Astarion slots his mouth against hers as they share a tender kiss, and Ysera's hands rise to cup Astarion's face as he begins to move faster, their soft moans muffled in the infinitesimally small space between them. His cock rubs against that sensitive spot inside her, building her pleasure to a blissful crescendo. Each of her moans is swallowed by Astarion's hungry kisses, the hand on her chin sliding into her hair to keep her close.

Their eyes lock in the final moments before she comes undone, hands threading through Astarion's soft white curls as she gasps his name like a prayer. He follows her with a groan, emptying himself inside her as they both ride out their orgasms together.

In the silence that follows, Astarion rests his forehead against hers, reveling in their closeness and the familiar sound of her heart as it calms its wild pace.

“I love you,” she says.

Astarion smirks at her through his fangs.

“I know.”

Ysera exhales loudly, and Astarion can feel the crease in her brow as she pouts at him. Her tail slips behind his back, and she gives him a good whack. “Stubborn man. Wonderful. Terribly handsome. But still stubborn.”

Astarion laughs to himself in satisfaction and presses an apologetic kiss to the tip of her nose.

“I love you too, darling.”

WIP wednesday!

thanks to the lovely @xxnashiraxx, @verbenaa, and @roguishcat for the tags!

here's a sneak peak at tomorrow's prompt: bath.

tagging: @ladyduellist, @nyx-knox, @nerdallwritey

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!Tav; Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) ❛ word count: 2.8k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: soft dom Astarion, spanking/impact play, fingering

‣ preview: Astarion spares a cursory glance at the book in her hand, a roguish grin spreading across his face as he finally understands why Ysera chose this night in particular to pay him a late night visit.

Gods, how easy it would be to put down his book and slide his hands beneath her clothes, to take her sinful curves in his hands and partake in a little indulgence of his own. But that would spoil the game, and Astarion does so love playing with his food.

AO3 ┊ series masterlist

It's late in the evening, and Astarion is slowly losing his grasp on his sanity. He's nestled up in his bedroll with a book in his hands, some ancient history of Faerûn that's surprisingly more engaging than most pieces on this particular period.

The problem is, he's finding it very hard to concentrate on what he's reading, distracted by the way Ysera lays splayed across his lap, dressed only in a thin cotton nightgown as she flips through her romance novel. She kicks her feet back and forth through the air, tail swishing happily as she reads.

Astarion glances down at her over the cover of his book, unable to tear his gaze from her lower half and the enticing curve of her ass that peeks out beneath the hem of her too-short nightgown. He can tell she isn't wearing any underwear.

It's all too conspicuous to be anything but intentional on her part. And if she wanted his attention, she certainly has it. He tries one last time to return to his reading, but the words seem to blur on the page, a collection of letters that no longer have any meaning in his brain.

Astarion clears his throat and steadies his voice.

“Are you enjoying yourself, darling?” he asks.

“Oh, yes,” Ysera says innocently. He can see the edge of her simpering smile from this angle, the way her eyes narrow slightly. He's seen that look before, enough times to know exactly what she's thinking.

She's toying with him, the little minx. There's only one reason she came to his tent tonight, and it wasn't to read. Not that he minds, of course.

“The prince has fallen in love with the heroine,” she explains with a wave of her hand, “but she's secretly been seduced by his handsome rival from a neighboring kingdom. It's all very thrilling.”

There's a sort of aloof detachment in her voice that Astarion finds rather amusing. It's the same sort of subterfuge he often uses, one of his favorite habits that she's picked up from traveling with him these past few weeks.

Oh, she isn't nearly half as subtle about it, wiggling her hips in his lap as she is now, but gods if her efforts aren't adorable nevertheless.

Astarion spares a cursory glance at the book in her hand, a roguish grin spreading across his face as he finally understands why Ysera chose this night in particular to pay him a late night visit.

The writing isn't very good by his standards, but he won't judge her too harshly for indulging in a bit of filth. Especially not when he gets to admire such a lovely little view.

Gods, how easy it would be to put down his book and slide his hands beneath her clothes, to take her sinful curves in his hands and partake in a little indulgence of his own. But that would spoil the game, and Astarion does so love playing with his food.

Astarion hums thoughtfully.

“And does this heroine also enjoy mercilessly taunting her lover?” His voice is like velvet, soft and rich and laced with an edge of something darker.

“Oh,” Ysera says, “have you read this one too?” She twists in his lap to steal a glance at him, flushing a fetching shade of scarlet when she notices his predatory smile. Her eyes flit to his fangs, proudly on display. 

“Lucky guess,” Astarion says coolly. He closes his book and sets it aside before resting his hand on the small of her back, her skin almost feverishly warm beneath her nightgown. Ysera fights the noise that bubbles up in her throat, and Astarion is very impressed when she releases a soft sigh instead of the moan he suspects she was withholding from him.

But Astarion's patience is waning too. He flexes the fingers on Ysera's back, itching to explore more of her body. He will make her sing for him, one way or another.

Astarion's touch is featherlight as he runs his hand up the curve of Ysera's spine, and she shudders.

“But you would certainly never do something so cruel, now would you, darling?” Astarion says quietly. Ysera's spine goes rigid beneath his fingers. She knows she's been caught, and a delicious wave of heat ignites inside her. It emboldens her.

“I would never,” she says incredulously. If she stares straight ahead, she doesn't have to look at the way Astarion's eyes darken, can pretend she has the upper hand for just a while longer.

“No,” Astarion replies, “I thought not.” He moves his hand to her ass, the soft curves of her body fitting nicely in his palm. “And if, hypothetically, I were to slip my hand beneath your nightgown, I wouldn't find you naked and absolutely soaking, would I?”

Ysera hesitates.

“N…no.”

She's stopped breathing, cursing the treacherous racing of her heart. The seconds pass like eons as Astarion calls her bluff, fingers gliding smoothly over her bare skin as he hikes her nightgown over her hips and exposes her supple, sun-kissed skin. A chill ripples through her, and she moans softly despite herself.

Ysera's thighs part willingly as Astarion dips between her folds without warning. He finds exactly what he expects when he spreads her open: she's positively drenched, glistening with the same arousal that coats his fingers as he withdraws them with a disapproving click of his tongue.

“Oh my,” he says, tutting. “I didn't take you for a liar, pet.”

Astarion curses under his breath as Ysera shifts nervously in his lap, brushing against the hardening ridge of his cock beneath his pants. He inhales sharply but quickly regains his composure.

In a voice that sounds like molten honey, he purrs, “You've been very bad, haven't you? Do you know what happens to bad girls, Ysera?”

Ysera swallows thickly. The quiet thump of her book falling closed sounds throughout Astarion's tent, punctuating the deep breath she exhales.

Her voice is thin when she finds it. “They get punished,” she answers simply.

“Would you like me to punish you, darling?”

If her heart beats any faster, Ysera is certain it will burst from her chest.

“Yes.”

Ysera doesn't mind relinquishing control. It's something Astarion learned very quickly about her, even before the first night they spent together. So when she finds herself as she does now, completely at his mercy, it's a situation they both find quite agreeable.

Astarion kneads her flesh beneath his palm, the heat of her bare skin something he's always found intoxicating. He raises his hand over her ass, striking her with a quick slap that blooms red in its wake. Ysera whimpers softly but resists crying out from the stinging pain.

The crack of his hand cuts through the night air as he spanks her again, harder than last time. Her cunt clenches around nothing when his hand falls a third time. There's a dull, throbbing ache between her thighs that's begging for his touch, but she knows better than to hope he'll give her the relief she needs any time soon.

Astarion alternates between soothing the angry red marks on her skin and smacking her plump flesh; on the sixth strike, she finally lets go, throat constricting around a deliciously wanton moan. Her tail has long since gone limp along with the rest of her body.

“Have you learned your lesson, sweet girl?” Astarion asks, admiring his handiwork. He's been more than a little rough with her, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed it immensely. She'll be sore tomorrow, perhaps, and every time she sits down she'll be reminded of tonight.

That thought alone makes him grit his teeth. The front of his trousers are already damp, and he knows he'll enjoy pumping his cock later as he recalls the sweet sound of her voice.

But not now.

He has unattended business to finish here first.

“I'm not sure,” Ysera is saying to him now. She means to sound unaffected, but her arrogance loses most of its edge on the shaky cadence of her voice.

“Perhaps I need another demonstration.”

“If I didn't know any better,” Astarion replies darkly, lips curling into a wolfish grin, “I’d say that you enjoyed yourself. I'm afraid that simply won't do.”

Astarion retrieves her book and opens it to the passage she had been reading before placing it into her hands. “Go on, love, read something for me,” he purrs. “I'm afraid I've forgotten how the story goes.”

Ysera opens her mouth in rebuttal, but her words are cut short by the keening whine that tears itself from her throat when Astarion slides his hand back between her slick folds. His fingers linger over her opening long enough for her to shudder before he plunges two of them inside her eager cunt.

“Ah-ah,” Astarion chides her. “Not so loud, darling. You wouldn't want the others to hear you, would you? Try again. And keep quiet, or I'll stop.”

Astarion can tell by the shuddering breath she takes that she's trying very hard to be obedient, even as her walls tighten around his fingers. He presses further inside of her, and Ysera has to bury her face into her arm to muffle her cries of pleasure. She succeeds by biting into her forearm to stifle herself.

“That's better.” Astarion's voice is dripping with lust, his expression dark with want as he takes in the lewd sight beneath him: Ysera's flushed and tender skin, the way she pants as he thrusts his fingers inside of her, the glistening arousal he can feel coating his entire hand. He spreads his fingers as he pumps inside her slick heat, caressing every inch of her.

Ysera begins to read.

“‘N-no, we musn’t,’ the lady Gwyndolyn stammers. ‘If Lord Elias should discover us…’”

She pauses to catch her breath, her throat constricting as Astarion rewards her with a few more pumps of his fingers, sheathing himself well past the second knuckle.

“A…ahh…” She clears her throat and continues: “‘Let him,’ Bastian growls possessively. His teeth press into the tender flesh above her bosom, and she bites back an undignified whimper when his…’”

It feels shameful to read the words aloud, even though she's said far more explicit things to him in the heat of the moment. She considers burning the book; she could do it easily, imagines its wretched pages crumbling to cinders in her hands. But where would be the fun in that?

“When his… hard length presses against the budding flower of her womanhood, a shaft of velvet-encased steel. ‘You are mine, Gwyndolyn,’ he snarls. ‘I do not fear your little lordling.’ ‘Oh, Bastian!’ Gwyndolyn exclaims, throwing herself into his strong, muscular arms, ‘I can deny myself no longer. Take me!’”

She prays to whichever god will listen that she doesn't sound anything like that. Astarion has more than enough reasons to tease her already.

The sound of Astarion's throaty chuckle snaps her attention back to him.

“Is that what you want? To be claimed and ravaged by my – how was it phrased, exactly? ‘Shaft of velvet-encased steel?’”

“Gods…”

Ysera buries her face into the pages and groans. She's going to burn the godsdamned book.

“I mean… I wouldn't phrase it so… crudely,” she says, “but yes. I think I would like that very much, Astarion.” Her voice is low and husky when she speaks, anticipation making her tremble.

Astarion clicks his tongue.

“Well that's too bad, darling,” he drawls, slowly teasing her with his fingers as they massage her walls. “Another time, perhaps. Once you've learned your manners.”

Ysera lets out a frustrated whine of disbelief and slams the book closed.

“Astarion…”

“Shhh,” he scolds her. “I never said that I wouldn't take care of you. Do you think I need my cock to make you scream?”

The sound of her heartbeat grows erratic once more. The adrenaline surging through her body makes her dizzy. Ysera squirms in Astarion's lap, breathing ragged as she squeezes her eyes shut and rolls her hips back against his hand. And when Astarion crooks his fingers and brushes against her most sensitive area, she cries out piteously, shrill and sharp.

True to his word, Astarion immediately withdraws his fingers from her, leaving her aching center empty and wanting. 

“No,” she begs, “no, no, Astarion, please , I didn't mean to, I'll be good, I–”

Ysera stops babbling the moment he spanks her again, tender flesh left raw and stinging beneath his palm. She quivers, heart pounding as her magic sings a chorus of pleasure through her body. Everywhere he touches her ignites her skin with desire.

“You want to be good for me?” Astarion drawls. His fingers trace the outline of his palm on her skin in a delicate dance.

Her answer is barely more than a whisper.

“Yes. Tell me how to be good, Astarion.”

Astarion rewards her by returning his fingers to her cunt, which has somehow grown even wetter than before. He takes advantage of this to add a third finger, meeting so little resistance that he can't help but groan as her body clenches beautifully around him. 

“Open,” he commands, guiding two fingers from his other hand towards her mouth. Her lips part, and his fingers press down on her tongue. She sucks on them the way she would his cock, tracing little whorls around the digits. They have the added effect of muffling her persistent moans, which she tries so diligently to keep quiet while he fucks her.

Once he's built up a good rhythm, Astarion crooks his fingers inside her again, and Ysera's body goes rigid. He’s hit the spot that makes her delirious, purposely massaging it with his long, dexterous fingers. Her pulse hammers in her ears like a raging current.

The delicious stretch of her cunt around his fingers blurs the line between pain and pleasure. The sound his fingers make thrusting inside her is downright obscene, and she can hear just how soaked he's made her when Astarion withdraws his fingers and slaps them against her oversensitive clit in quick succession. The impact sends a thrill of pleasure through her like a bolt of white-hot lightning, and sparks of lavender arc between her fingers before she balls them into fists.

Ysera’s sobs of pleasure are drowned out by the fingers Astarion still has in her mouth. Saliva leaks down her chin each time she parts her lips to drag in a gasp of air, but she still has enough forethought to clamp her lips around his fingers before she lets out another keening whine. Astarion slaps her clit again and thrusts his fingers back inside her quivering cunt.

“It would make me… very happy… if you would come for me, darling.” Astarion groans through gritted teeth, the last threads of his control fraying. His cock jumps every time she rocks her hips and fucks herself on his fingers as he aches for his own release. It's a testament to his own resolve that he hasn't torn his clothes off and pounded her into the blankets.

But she won't learn her lesson if he spoils her like that, he reminds himself. And as good as he knows this feels, it's always his cock she craves the most.

Ever his obedient little love, Ysera lets herself tumble over the edge he's so expertly brought her to, practically on command as the syllables of his name are barely audible around the fingers still in her mouth. She can no longer spare the effort it would take to remain quiet and doesn't bother to withhold her cries of pleasure. Astarion works her through it, stopping only when his ministrations become too intense for her to bear any longer and she begs him for mercy.

A shimmering strand of her arousal links his fingers to her core as he pulls away and licks them clean, savoring the taste of her. She lays in his lap a moment longer, chest heaving for breath as the world finally stops spinning.

“So…” Ysera says, still panting. “Was I good?” She flashes a coy, wavering smile over her shoulder. Her tail curls up towards Astarion's face and playfully strokes his cheek. Astarion tries to snatch her tail but Ysera is too fast, dodging his hand just before it curls around the spaded tip. She giggles, and even though he grumbles about her being extraordinarily difficult, she can feel him smiling when he pulls her upright into his arms and kisses her. 

“Cheeky little thing,” Astarion growls, roughly grabbing her ass with both hands. The lingering pain makes her wince, and she makes a face at him before sinking her teeth into his bottom lip.

“Unfortunately for you,” she murmurs with a simpering smile, “you like me far too much to be upset with me.”

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!Tav; Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) ❛ word count: 2k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: masturbation, piv sex; this is a continuation from the prompt from day 4 (you don't have to have read that one but it gives a little context for this one!)

‣ preview: “Is this what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself? The way it is in those filthy novels you seem so fond of?” he asks. Ysera's nostrils flare, and she stares him down, hips still rocking rhythmically.

“No,” she grits out. “For starters, the men in those stories have much better manners. They don't make their partners do all the work.” She says it with a smirk – an issued challenge – her sharp teeth slightly visible behind the curl of her lips. He recognizes the smug look on her face as the same expression he often throws her way and doesn't know whether to feel proud or flustered by the sight of it reflected back at him.

AO3 ┊ series masterlist

When Ysera slips discreetly out of his tent and leaves him alone, it's perhaps the only time Astarion's been somewhat relieved to see her go. He'd spent far too much effort trying to restrain himself from going any further, but now there's nothing holding him back but his own imagination.

His cock throbs between his legs, so painfully hard that just the slightest bit of friction from his hands as they graze over the front of his ruined trousers has him hissing sharply through his teeth. Astarion wastes no time untying his laces, tugging his pants and underwear down no further than he has to before his cock springs free, the weeping head flush and swollen. It should bring him relief, but instead it only serves to frustrate him further.

He grunts in disappointment when he fists the base of his erection and strokes the shaft; his hand is far too cold to pretend it's her, especially not her soft mouth or her sweet cunt. A few drops of precome drip down his fingers when the head of his cock pushes through the opening he's made with his fist, approximating but not completely recreating the feel of her body.

Gods above.

Astarion begins to lament Ysera's absence. Why had he let her go? Damn his pride; it will do nothing for him now. He contemplates calling to her, to link their minds through their tadpoles and show her what she's done to him. To entice her to return. He's long since memorized every inch of her, but his memory pales in comparison to actually having her here with him.

He knows she would come if he asked her. The haughty smile and teasing words she would likely give him would be well worth the satisfaction he would feel sinking into her, the way she would moan and melt beneath his hands.

But he doesn't. Surely he has more dignity than that. Instead, he steadies himself with a long exhale of breath and wills himself to focus. The smell of her arousal still lingers in the air, the needy cries she had made when she came on his fingers still fresh in his mind. And so he closes his eyes, picturing the way she'd looked splayed across his lap, and pumps himself again.

It's better this time. More believable. The image of Ysera in his mind is eager, shifting to support herself on her hands and knees and offering herself to him. He knows she likes it best from behind, where his cock slides deepest. His hands always fit so nicely around her hips, letting him pull her back against him each time he thrusts into her.

Astarion imagines how good it would feel to push the head of his stiff cock through her slick folds and bury himself inside her just like that, and his fist tightens to mimic the way she always feels wrapped around him. 

The first moan slips past his lips and his mouth falls slack. He feels less tense as pleasure radiates through his body. The Ysera in his mind grinds her hips back against him, whining and calling his name as if he is her only salvation.

He wonders what she's doing now, alone inside her tent. Is she still thinking about him?

The hand on his cock strokes faster, and the precome spilling from the slit slicks his palm. Astarion shifts onto his knees, the new position allowing him to thrust up with quick snaps of his hips. He adjusts the pressure of his hand from time to time, the way her walls often pulse around him when he fucks her.

Oh, yes, that feels wonderful . The way her cunt clenches around him when he angles his hips just so is downright sinful; he loves the piteous little sounds she makes, the way her back bows as she claws at the blankets or digs her nails into the grass. He pictures it all so clearly now.

A string of whimpers tumbles from his own lips, and Astarion imagines Ysera praising him, telling him how good it feels when he fucks her. He's heard it enough times that she might as well be next to him to whisper it in his ear. With his cock as slick as it is, he can almost trick himself into believing it's her cunt he's fucking instead of his hand.

Although he can feel his climax approaching, Astarion purposely slows his thrusts, working himself right to the point of no return before suddenly letting go of his cock. It hangs heavy in the air as he gazes down at himself, twitching slightly. 

His body shudders, hips bucking, searching for the release he so desperately needs. But it doesn't feel quite right. Without her, he knows he won't be satisfied.

Gods above, what has she done to him?

Astarion is too far gone to care about the optics when the tadpole stirs within his brain, and he commands it to search for her among their companions. He’s surprised when her own consciousness crashes like a breaking wave against his own, hunting for him with the same urgency he had sought her out.

Ysera's voice is husky with want when it flits into his mind.

“Astarion?” she asks. He can hear her panting. A spark of heat lances through him as she sinks two fingers inside herself, unknowingly sharing the sensation with him. “Are you–?”

He cuts her off mid sentence. “Yes. Are you?”

“Yes.”

Astarion grants her entry into his mind, and his sight becomes her own. His stomach tightens when he feels his gaze – her own – fall to his cock, still erect between his thighs. Her hunger is unmistakable. Ravenous like a fire that consumes everything in its path.

There is a moment of silence, and then –

“Oh.” She's smug, because of course she is. “Would you… like some help with that?”

She asks so sweetly, but he can hear the thinly veiled want in her voice, the desire that echoes in his mind. 

“Yes,” he groans in resignation. “Very much so.”

“Give me five minutes.”

Ysera makes it to his tent in less than three, practically stumbling headfirst through the canvas flap. She looks a mess with her hair disheveled and her cheeks dusted a rosy pink, and as her nightgown slips off her shoulder his gaze is drawn to the hard peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric.

Their eyes meet in mutual understanding.

“What do you need from m–?”

Astarion cuts Ysera off by grabbing her wrist and roughly pulling her down into his lap. She yelps and straddles his hips. He has no more patience left for the time it would take to articulate how badly he wants to be inside her. She matches his ferocity when he kisses her, tongue running over his fangs when he opens his mouth and lets out a snarl.

Ysera adjusts her hips for him, and Astarion is delighted to find her still naked beneath her nightgown. She bunches the cotton fabric in her hand and lifts the garment so he can position his cock appropriately before sinking down onto the full, hard length of him in a single, blissful movement. The heat of her is exhilarating, her walls still slick with her arousal from her last orgasm.

“Gods,” he hisses, digging his hands into the curve of her waist. That he ever thought his hand could bring him the same pleasure as her body seems so ridiculous now, but when he tries to laugh the only sound that escapes him is far less dignified. 

Ysera leans back on her calves and discards her nightgown, breasts arched enticingly towards Astarion's face as she spears herself on his cock. Her hips undulate and her thighs tremble, and she begins to moan just as sweetly as he knew she would. He’s rough when he grabs her breasts, digging his fingers into the soft flesh and squeezing tightly.

“You should've… told me to stay, stupid,” Ysera scolds him between gasping breaths and shaky moans. Her body rises before slamming back down on his length again and again, driving his cock deep.

“Spare me the lecture,” he snipes back, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t make you leave.”

The scowl on her face only serves to make her all the more attractive, and when she leans in to kiss him again, Astarion grins in satisfaction.

“Is this what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself? The way it is in those filthy novels you seem so fond of?” he asks. Ysera's nostrils flare, and she stares him down, hips still rocking rhythmically.

“No,” she grits out. “For starters, the men in those stories have much better manners. They don't make their partners do all the work.” She says it with a smirk – an issued challenge – her sharp teeth slightly visible behind the curl of her lips. He recognizes the smug look on her face as the same expression he often throws her way and doesn't know whether to feel proud or flustered by the sight of it reflected back at him.

Astarion tightens his hold on Ysera's waist and growls as he surges forward, pressing her into his bedroll as her back hits the ground and the breath leaves her lungs. Her body sings as her magic flares within her like a wild beast, and Astarion's skin tingles where it makes contact with her. Her eyes are a tempest of gold and amber.

He loves seeing her like this, almost feral as she struggles to contain her power. The way he makes her lose herself so effortlessly, so unlike her typical polite, demure demeanor.

“If you wanted a proper fuck, sweetheart,” Astarion purrs, “you only had to ask.”

“I’m asking now, ” she grumbles. “So give it to me.”

She's still so tight when he angles his hips and slams himself back inside her, the lewd slap of skin-on-skin punctuating each of his brutal thrusts. They're both through exchanging words, staring intensely into each other's eyes as he fucks her the way they've both been craving – the way they should have been if only they weren’t both so stubborn. 

Her walls constrict around him in the same cadence of her thrumming pulse, and Astarion adjusts his pace to match it. It's dark inside the tent but he can still see the way her eyes flicker, leaving his face only to watch the way their hips join as his cock disappears inside her body. It's clear by the way she's moaning and begging for more that she's long given up on keeping their little rendezvous a secret.

When Ysera's pupils suddenly go wide, Astarion knows she's about to come. With his fingers gripping her hips tight enough to bruise, she screams his name and her back arches high off the ground. Her tail thrashes as she loses control over her body. Astarion groans, and his cock erupts inside her spasming cunt. He pulls out just in time to paint her belly with what's left of his come, fixated by the way it glistens on her skin, milky white and translucent.

Astarion drags his fingers through the spend on her belly, and Ysera's mouth is already open for him when he guides them to her lips. She licks them clean, tongue swirling around the soft pads. He removes them from her mouth with a wet pop, crouching low to kiss her once again.

“Oh dear,” he murmurs against her mouth, capturing her lips in a slow, sensual kiss. “It seems I’ve gone and spoiled you again, haven’t I?”

WIP whenever~

tagged by the amazing and talented @xxnashiraxx, @roguishcat, @nyx-knox, @verbenaa, and @inkymoonbunny! 🫶🫶🫶

got another prompt coming tomorrow, so here's a teaser for that~

tagging: @vividiana, @pinkberrytea, @shewhowas39, @elinorbard