#it's better than it sounds

[partmathpartmagic]

A flip of a switch

Chapter 6

Rating: Mature

It hadn’t been like this the first time they’d had sex, not even close. He’d been too busy trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to keep it from becoming honest. Now, honesty was all that was left.

Happy Wednesday here's some graveyard smut <3 i think this will be my last update to this fic? but who knows

Just fluffy, giggly, lovey sex, idk what to tell you. It's smut from start to finish with a couple pov switches. yep.

Read on AO3

Read from the beginning (6/6 chapters, 15,737 words)

Prequel to Disarmed which you should read if you like these two together!

Astarion never thought of himself as empathetic, not really. Empathy had been tortured out of him pretty quickly, he supposed, removed to make room for self-preservation and survival instincts. Still, nestled between Mina’s thighs, looking up at her dilated eyes, her lips swollen from kissing, he knew a moment of profound pity for every other thinking creature on every plane of existence who would never experience this exact moment. Nothing else could possibly compare.

He kissed her inner thigh before running his tongue slowly, flatly, up through her folds and latching his lips gently around the bundle of nerves tucked between them. He felt her jolt of arousal where their minds were still connected, almost painful in its desperation, and heard her fingers digging into the grass at her sides. As he sucked her gently into his mouth, he slid a hand up to explore the soft heat of her skin, traveling up the dip of her waist and over her breast, committing every inch of her to memory. So soft, she was.

He darted his tongue out and her hips jerked involuntarily as she made the most beautiful sound he’d heard yet, and sex was sex, and a clit was a clit, and there was a part of him that wished none of it felt familiar at all, but the sounds she made were a revelation. She tasted exactly like he would expect, and completely different. Her body was sweetness and saltiness and skin and sweat and love and safety and joy all dancing on his tongue.

It wasn’t the mindless bliss of 15 minutes ago that he was feeling now, it was something much more heady and complex, and it was as terrifying as it was lovely.

As he suckled her rhythmically, gently running his tongue over her like a caress, he ran his hand back down her torso and stroked her hip, the curve of her ass, her inner thigh, before slowly dipping inside her once more. He moaned against her at the heat and the closeness, and he looked up to see her arching her back, her chest heaving, her moans turning into soft, broken cries into the quiet night air, cursing and breathing his name. He had never heard anything so beautiful.

She was starting to lose control, and it was glorious. It hadn’t been like this the first time they’d had sex, not even close. He’d been too busy trying to keep some semblance of control, trying to keep it from becoming honest. Now, honesty was all that was left. Another of her cries seemed to travel to his very core and grind his hips down into the ground unconsciously. He was almost painfully hard. He slipped another finger in to join the first, and she gasped like she’d been drowning and suddenly resurfaced.

It’s you, he reminded himself. It’s you making her feel like that. Deserve it or not, you’re here and you better fucking make the most of it. His free hand squeezed her thigh where it was braced and he felt a wave of love from her mind.

Impossible, all of it. Completely impossible.

________________

Mina wasn’t positive, but she was fairly certain this was how she was going to die. A human body simply couldn’t sustain this level of sensation, it was going to kill her. And honestly, was there a better way to go than with this man between her legs? At least she’d die happy. And hells, she was already in a graveyard. That was nothing if not convenient.

Had she not been fighting her every impulse, she would have bucked her hips so hard when he slipped another finger in that she would have broken his nose (though the way he was devouring her, she wasn’t sure that would have stopped him). She had long given up control of the sounds she was making, and spared a thought to hope no bereaved were visiting their loved ones right now. It was too much, the suction and the friction and the vibration of his moans against her. The absolute pleasure of him, his skilled fingers and his athletic tongue, and so much deeper than that, the way he was trusting her and surrendering to her. She was so, so lucky. It was impossible for anyone to deserve this. But her mind, for once, was not in charge, and her body wasn’t going to let her talk herself out of this happiness.

Astarion crooked his fingers gently, drawing them almost all the way out of her before plunging back in, and she heard herself cry out. Her legs were pulling as far apart as possible, trying to open herself up to him, give him as much access as she could, and the night air against her wet skin made her feel deliciously exposed. The suction from his mouth had reached a rhythm that was falling in time with the movement of his hand, and she needed… something. She released the grass she’d been pulling at, feeling around for some anchor, some point of contact. She had the presence of mind to avoid his hair, though she wasn’t sure if that still applied here? It had seemed okay before, as if maybe the moment earlier had been angle-specific, but now wasn’t the time to play around. If he needed her to, she'd be able to stop, but at this point it would be almost physically painful. Best to avoid if possible.

Darling, she heard in her mind, and embarrassingly enough just the sound of his voice in her head made her bite her lip around a moan, not to eavesdrop, but a hand in the hair sounds divine right now.

Fuck. She needed him to be very, very sure, because she was not capable of being gentle. Her left hand was tearing grass out of the ground by the root as she thought. She was racing towards a climax and felt utterly out of control.

It was the angle darling, I promise. I’ll keep my mind open in case anything changes, but—

Looking down, she saw his eyes close and felt him moan around her again, the sensation making her vision go spotty. When his eyes opened again, they were dead serious and locked with hers.

—use me, darling. Trust me. Take what you need.

Her body responded before her mind could process, her hand flying to his hair and tangling into it, holding him tight between her legs like his mouth was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. Her other hand felt around desperately until it found him where he was holding onto her thigh. At her touch he loosened his grip, and she locked their fingers together, hers shaking so hard that it took a couple tries.

That’s it, darling. Let go for me.

She cried out hoarsely, her relief so close and so far at the same time. She needed—

A third finger joined the first two, and her entire body quivered with the delicious fullness of it, the feeling of him filling her, holding her, trusting her, loving her. She drove herself down onto him in time with his thrusts, one, two, three times, and then–release. Her mouth fell silent, no sound she could make feeling like enough, as her mind began screaming: Yes, gods, YES.

Her orgasm hit her like nothing she’d experienced, a tidal wave of bliss and relief and gratitude sweeping away every thought. She rode the waves of it physically, her body rolling and clenching around him as her legs shivered. His mouth grew gentle, but didn’t leave her as she floated back down to earth, eventually falling limp against the grass.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her vision gradually returning as she caught her breath. Her stolen shirt was in a state of complete disarray, and she knew there was no small amount of dirt under her nails.

Slowly Astarion extracted himself, pressing kisses up her torso as he came to join her. She pulled him towards her and their mouths crashed together messily before he collapsed next to her, breathing almost as heavily as she was.

Usually Mina was exhausted after an orgasm, needing some time to recover before getting back into things. But the taste of her own pleasure on his lips, the smell of him next to her, the bliss still sitting heavy on her skin–recovery was the last thing on her mind. Hells, she felt feral. As he rolled onto his back beside her she followed, coming to straddle him with her hips hovering over his erection. She bent down to kiss him, sucking his lower lip between her teeth before licking her way into his mouth. A residual wave of pleasure washed over her, like a sudden flashback to a moment ago, and she pulled back to close her eyes and bring her forehead against his, biting her lip. She had never felt like this after sex; it was like the orgasm had never stopped, just slowed. The feeling had her pressing closer to him, gently rolling her hips down to meet his. Just the feeling of his cock between her legs made her twitch, and he groaned beneath her. She thought back to the first time they’d had sex, and it was so obvious now how guarded he’d been. Coaxing genuine, unrehearsed sounds from him… it was an addiction. It was all she could think about.

________________

If this was what sex was supposed to feel like, he had no idea what he’d been doing for the past 200 years.

She was kissing him again, her body slowly melting down onto his and her hand cupping the side of his face. His shirt was hanging off her shoulders and her hair was mussed. It wasn't so long ago that she’d been defending him to his former master, her robes flying, her face fierce in the magical light, and now she was here, all those fierce angles turned to curves, her entire being warm and soft and sweet and messy. It defied words, how lucky he was to get both versions of her.

As he licked into the heat of her mouth, he thought in her direction, How would you like me to fuck you, darling?

She sighed into his mouth. I don’t think I care, she replied finally. As long as I can look at you while you do it.

I’m not letting that beautiful face out of my sight, darling, don’t worry .

He rolled over her and used his knee to hitch up one of her legs, opening her up to him, and without another moment of hesitation he lined himself up and pushed inside.

Sparks burst in front of his eyes as she cursed beneath him, her voice almost a whimper. Her body was quivering, and he stayed exactly where he was for a minute while both of them adjusted. She got there quicker than he did, and when she pulled him down for a kiss and her body squeezed around him, he almost lost control entirely. But no, he wasn’t done yet. Slowly, he began to move, and when he pulled out slightly and pushed back in, fully sheathing himself inside her, she broke off their kiss to gasp. They were both breathing comically hard for how little they were moving. Before he could stop himself, the thought turned into a breathless laugh. His eyes met Mina’s, and she began to laugh as well.

“This is absurd,” she managed between giggles. “How is it this intense? How are we supposed to do anything else ever again?”

A lock of hair had fallen across her face, and he brushed it away, still smiling and breathless. “I have absolutely no idea, darling.” His hips twitched, his body tired of staying still, and the friction turned both their laughter to gasps. Astarion closed his eyes, only opening them when he felt a hand on his cheek. He looked down to see Mina’s eyes shining up at him, a soft smile still on her face.

She didn’t say what she was thinking, but she didn’t need to. They’d heard the word in each others’ thoughts enough, they both knew they were loved. And they both understood that saying it out loud was complicated. If they already knew, why push it? It was clear in her eyes how she felt, and he was sure his face was just as easy to read.

So instead of speaking, he kissed her gently on the forehead, and then began to move once more.

When she came for the second time, barely five minutes later, it was with his fangs in her neck and his name on her lips, and his vision went white as she throbbed around him, pulling him after her into bliss.

[malwarechips]

yknow i never noticed the sheer rareness of images having ids or alt text on this website until i started adding alt text to my art (and trying to remember to add it to any images i post in general, especially text screenshots) and that makes me kinda sad

[pickled-flowers]

Sex positivity is also about not calling Ace people prude and using virgin as an insult 👍 hope that helps

[baihujun]

Someone in the tags requested a post with just these two together so

From the archives, here's Talia and (grown-up) Damian from a 6 fanarts character request meme I did way back (2022 wrow)

[aitadjcrazytimes]

[xxplastic-cubexx]

personal happiness or what the fuck ever

bonus:

[rocals]

CDs are obsolete because the sound quality sucks

yeah sucks me good and hard through my jorts

[harrowharr0w]

happy mizuena monday everybody

[anbaisai]

Has Mayu met Najma (Jamil's sister) yet? How did/would that interaction go? (I love your content. Please don't ever die❤️)

I haven't figured out if/when they'd meet in my canon timeline yet, but they definitely would meet during the Al'ab Nariya event! Honestly I think they'd get along quite well given how both have :3 energy, meaning Jamil really will be terrorized by 2 cats once they meet...

He'll be fine though, he's basically a cat himself 👍

(Also that last sentence I'm- 😭?? Anon really came into my inbox to give me eternal life and leave-)

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

massages forehead So Ambessa hid Mel away because she was a weapon in the literal sense, a mage. But Ambessa came to Piltover for Hextech? And Ambessa had nothing to say to Mel about her powers having visibly awakened? Even when Mel offered to go with Ambessa, giving her the ultimate opportunity to make Mel a weapon for real? And Ambessa made no attempt to find or retrieve Mel - not just her daughter and the remnants of the family Ambessa professes to love, but also her ultimate weapon - when she disappeared? And Ambessa trusted Singed and Viktor on their home turf - neither of them hiding how insane and self-serving they are with every reason to take over Ambessa's soldiers or just blatantly turn on her as soon as it benefits them - more than she trusted Mel? While Caitlyn (and by extension Piltover) was visibly and clearly falling away from Ambessa's teachings before Ambessa's eyes? (as if getting rid of certain people allows piltover to get rid of fascism but we won't get into All That)

Not only do I struggle to be hyped for Mel's powers beyond how amazing and beautiful she looks, but I can't help but feel like Mel is somehow less powerful in season 2 than she was in season 1, and not in an interesting way. As if Mel's ability to bend all of Piltover politics and economics to her will in season 1 now means nothing in season 2? You can argue that Jinx's attack led directly to Mel losing ground in Piltover - because I expected Mel to have to claw back that power without being able to rely on people who are too easily seduced by Ambessa and authoritarianism, and she would have to get creative to go toe to toe with her mother. I expected pushback to her mage identity that she would have to navigate. But instead this went either unwritten, or was ignored or discarded. Instead Mel is removed from the main plot, cutting her off from what made her the most interesting - only for all of Mel's very real talents, her very real powers and abilities, to be not only translated but REPLACED with magical powers she doesn't know how to control, and by the finale, those magic powers are the only powers that are considered real. Mel takes a backseat to Piltover's governing and decisions, a backseat to Jayce of all people who was not only new to politics mere months ago but made poor governing, strategic, and diplomatic decisions when he had that power. In season 1 Mel stayed off the "throne" but she did pull its strings one way or the other, and she makes no attempt at this in season 2

In my least generous suspicions, Mel was gentled and quieted to capitulate to an agenda for other characters who had to be correct and heroic - or wrong and villainous - no matter what the leadup narrative said, given her powers to help sell the game and set up future shows, and was effectively ejected from the Arcane story with faceless soldiers and a role she doesn't want because she was inconvenient there

[egophiliac]

Hi it's just to let you know that the official romanization of Revaan's name is Raverne ! Also they have romanized Baul's name to Baur !

Twst coming back at us again with the least expected romanization! thank you everybody (oh god my inbox) (no it's great, I literally asked for this and the reactions have been INCREDIBLE, thank you all!)

I do like Raverne though, I think it's got a nice fancy sound to it! (I had kinda suspected it was going to be an R instead of an L, so the fact that it's SO close to Laverne except for that is hilarious to me personally.) and Dragoneye Duke is honestly probably the best translation for his title, I wasn't envying the localizers that one. :') Baur instead of Baul I was NOT expecting, but in retrospect I think his name's supposed to be a reference to the Bauru crocodile, so that actually makes way more sense!

someone else also said Meleanor has become Maleanor, which is the REALLY weird one to me, because I was so surprised it was written as Mel instead of Mal in the first place?! oh god no I can't decide which one I like better. 😭 (I wonder if they might change it to Mal...they have made romanization changes before) (like I remember House of Distraction being corrected to House of Destruction in Playful Land) (I did check and she's still Mel for now, but I dunno, they might Mal her up and some point and save me from having to make a decision about which one to use) (HECK I CAN'T DECIDE)

uhhhh thank you for letting me ramble about anime names, let's just say MONOGRAMMED SWEATERS FOR EVERYONE

[notbecauseofvictories]

Last post, I promise, but I do think it’s good and important to see local art (defining that term as broadly as possible) but in my experience you have to put up with the little kick of embarrassment you feel witnessing something too earnest, a little clumsy, not polished within an inch of its life or in step with prevailing trends.

I’m thinking of the dance performances I saw this weekend, but also last week’s street festival, where I watched short films and walked through local art exhibits; I’m thinking about Chicago’s outsider art museum, and even the elaborately decorated (ostensibly tacky) yards I see in rural Illinois, but South Carolina and Tennessee before that, and Michigan before that. Maybe I should cast an even broader net: my aunt’s cross stitch, my grand-aunt’s horrible poetry; the art they display at the nearby retirement community and the halfway house too, which comes from the residents.

If you’re not used to leaving space for that little kick, you might turn away or scoff at all this small, fumbling art. But I think there’s value in forcing yourself to look beyond that initial stab of secondhand embarrassment---to actually appreciate the art in front of you as an expression of something deeply human. You don’t have to think it’s objectively good, or even subjectively good. You don’t have to pretend that a local woman with a talent for oils is the next [INSERT FAMOUS ARTIST HERE]. But I do think you have to appreciate it, because otherwise there is no entrance into making art yourself.

And that, more than anything, is worth preserving.

[hawnks]

Takami Keigo doesn't want to see you.

Of course, he's too well trained to say it in so many words, but when he 'forgets' his session this afternoon, you get the message.

Unfortunately for him, you're stubborn. You show up at his apartment in the dormitories, ring his bell until your fingers numb.

Only then does he crack open the door, just enough for you to catch his forbidding smile, a caustic gleam to his eyes. "What can I help you with, this fine evening?"

"You missed our appointment," you say pleasantly. "This is the third time."

"Oh, must have just slipped my mind," he says with a dismissive little wave. "I'll catch you next time."

The door slams in your face.

Being so curtly dismissed by a top ranking officer should probably send you into a panic, but the stats you pulled up for him after his no-show are even more concerning. This is quickly turning into an emergency, and unfortunately it's your job on the line if he succumbs to corruption.

Who would blame the second most powerful Sentinel alive, when there's a feckless guide as a scapegoat.

"I'm going to ring the bell again," you say, loudly.

After a moment of silence, you think he must not have heard you.

Then the door swings open. "Fine," he snaps.

You follow him to the living room, watch as he drops himself on the couch with a sigh, eyes squeezed shut.

You'd never known guiding to be this much of a chore for Sentinels. Most of your roster is rather clingy and covetous of your time. None of them has ever been late to an appointment with you.

"Well?" he prods. "Get on with it."

You hesitate. The tension he seems to be holding will make this a lot more difficult, strenuous for you both. "Do you maybe want to talk for a bit? Or I could put on some white noise."

He opens his eyes just enough to give you a cutting look. "No."

You surrender with a sigh, coming to sit next to him on the couch. Every Sentinel prefers contact a different way; some want you to hug them, pet their hair, a few have even asked you to kiss them, fuck them, though you've never fulfilled that type of request, your boundaries in this job too firm for it.

You want to ask him what would make this easier for him, but you're sure waiting any longer will only set him off. So, delicately, you take his hand.

The first draw is always the hardest, the corrupt energy being nullified by your own. Some outside force reaching in, invasive despite the relief.

Takami flinches.

You go slower, a soft steady ebb, pulling the poison from him in silken thread.

His hand relaxes in yours.

You reach deeper, welcoming the full flood between you, warmth and light suffusing you both. And it feels how it's supposed to -- natural.

When your watch chimes, signaling the sessions end, Takami blinks out of his stupor. He'd melted during the thirty minutes you worked on him, body curled toward yours, face falling onto your shoulder.

He pulls away swiftly, shocked by his own willingness to lean on you.

You rise, marking off the details of your appointment on your tablet. "I can come back tomorrow, to finish up. You haven't been guided in a long time, so I couldn't get it all in one session. Does 2pm work for you?"

He's not prepared for the question. "Um. Yeah?"

You mark that down as well, then see yourself out.

It takes three more sessions for you to fully clear the corrupted energy from his body. In his haze he admits to you the reason he's so standoffish to Guides, why he dodges his sessions with such fervor.

"It's never felt good. Always felt like I'm being held down, trapped. Made me feel antsy, nervous." He buries his face against your throat, inhaling deeply. You'd started off just holding his hand again, but now he hugs your entire arm against his chest, your fingers twined. "It's not like that with you."

"I'm glad, Mr. Takami," you return. "Please don't ignore my emails from now on."

As you make your notes, you ask him his availability for next month.

He blinks at you. "You're not coming back tomorrow?"

You check your calendar. You'd had to push back several of your regular appointments to make room for the past few days. "I'm booked solid for the next two weeks, at least."

You glance at him, taking in his appearance, his general well being. You reach a hand out to cup his cheek, urging him to meet your eyes. He startles, first, before leaning into your touch.

"You seem fine," you decide, pulling away, already heading for the door. "I'll contact you later about our next session."

He trails after you, linger at the precipice as you take the elevator back down to your floor.

...

He never ignores you emails, after that.

In fact, he sends many of his own. He gets your phone number, somehow. Some days he shows up with coffee, or snacks, sits with you on the couch while you eat.

He's always touching you during those times, brushing hair behind your ears or straightening your shirt collar. Mostly he just holds your hand, playing with your fingers or clutching it in his own lap.

You don't guide him during any of these impromptu visits, too weary from the rest of your overfull schedule -- but you've heard of this type of attachment from other Guides.

Sentinels tend to imprint on guides they have a decent connection with. Part survival instinct, part status seeking. A Sentinel without a guide is doomed. A Sentinel with a high match-rate is likely to be stronger than their peers.

But that's the thing about un-bonded Sentinels, they're always on the lookout for a better Guide, their perfect mate.

Takami is overly attached to you now, but it will pass.

...

Or so you thought.

You're sent out into the aftermath of a battle that rocks the city. Dozens of Sentinels pushed themselves to the breaking point, on the brink of corruption, about to turn into the very monsters they fight to suppress.

You spot Takami in the midst of the wreckage. Exhausted, but giving you a shakey smile when your eyes meet. He limps toward you, so glad to see you, so ready for the safety and warmth of your arms--

Someone calls your name. Urgent, an emergency. Another Sentinel with no one to take care of them.

You turn away from Takami, and you go.

He'd fought hard, but his body has grown used to the abuse over the years. He's in bad shape, but it's not life-threatening like some of the others you help today.

It's hours before you can see him.

Slumped on a curb, hands folded neatly in his lap. Like he's been waiting so patiently for you this whole time.

You come to your knees before him, letting him take your hands, draw you closer. "Why didn't you go to another Guide?"

Surely he could have found someone else, despite the chaos of the scene. If not you, one of the high ranking Guides, slotted exclusively for S-rank Sentinels.

He looks at you, trembling, confused. "I don't want another Guide."

When he asks if you'll hold him, you do. You take him in your arms, let his weight settle on you. Feel his warmth all around you, his breath against your shoulder.

"And I don't want you to guide anyone else," he murmurs.

You stroke his nape. "I know. I'm sorry. You'll find your Guide soon enough, and then you can have each other all to yourselves."

His grip tightens. He braces you against him -- instead of a heady tightness, you're constricted.

"I already found my Guide," he whispers into your throat.

Then he bites.

[samipekoe]

would you eat her evil porridge

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!