sirius

eh i write sometimes. asks / reqs open.

[endinsosuddenly]

introduction

hi my name is sirius. you can use any pronouns. i’m 18.

my blog is very limited on what you can’t do, i like to be tagged, reblogged and liked. i don’t mind getting dms, and very rarely will i ever not respond to you if you tag/dm me <3

please ask to be mutuals! i swear i don't bite

my work

i write for stuff i like, am into at that moment. you can ask me to write stuff and i will try to do it at my best ability ! i write mostly little snippets / drabbles, but sometimes i’ll post full fics.

i don’t have a lot of hard no’s, but i won’t write anything that involves: pedophilia, beastiality, l*li/sh*ta, racist, fascist, homophobic, etc.

navigation

❥ - nsfw || ✿ - fluff || ☽ - angst

baldur's gate 3:

headcanons / drabbles

astarion whittles for you. ✿

astarion jealousy headcanon. ✿ , slight ☽

astarion loves cuddling. ✿

astarion with a stronger! taller! tav ✿❥

“you know.. if you want to spend time with me, you only have to say so.” ✿

astarion kissing hcs. ✿

drabbles

astarion x fem! tav cuddling ✿

harry potter:

hold me like you never lost your patience ✿☽

mcu:

loki relationship headcanons ✿

dispatch:

meddle about ❥

fantastic ❥ ✿

.. and more fandoms coming soon!

bottom star divider by @/enchanthings <3

[endinsosuddenly]

fantastic

masterlist

gotta give the people what they want.

—

How you ended up at a bar on the worst side of town, you’ll never know. Well, you do know. Your boyfriend cheated on you a couple days ago, and even thinking about it makes you a little crazy.

It’s not packed, thank god, but everyone in here is just as sad as you. A middle aged man who looks like his wife just took the house and kids, a woman drinking with a cigarette between her teeth, a group of men gambling, and finally, the only other person sitting at the bar. He’s got a strong physique, and you can see it even beneath his clothes.. well, uniform. You can’t say you’re big on superheroes, but you can tell he’s one just by the outfit and body, plus his face looks semi-familiar.

The dark haired man is drinking some type of whiskey, with ice and a glass halfway full. The hair on his face is mused, mutton chops and a mustache that are clearly a product of zero self care. The bags under his eyes definitely allude to that as well. Even with all that, he’s attractive, extremely so, in that depressed sort of way. After looking at him from the side of your eye for a while, you look back up at the bar TV showing some sports or news special. You’re not really watching it but, you don’t wanna stare at a complete stranger.

A couple minutes go by, maybe even an hour before you feel the man’s eyes on you. A little drunk, you don’t register it completely until he speaks.

“Excuse me, could I ask you a question?” His voice is soft, but it rumbles through your chest. The bar seems to fade into the background as you look over at him, he’s even more handsome when he’s looking you head on.

“Yeah..?” You answer back, slightly slurred. Subconsciously, you run a hand through your hair and adjust it.

“You’re a human woman.” His tone is like he’s trying to confirm information, but still slightly unsure. The man shifts his body to face you on the bar stool, his gaze is intense.

Taking another sip of the gin you’re drinking, you look down at yourself, “Yeah, I am ..” A beat of silence, “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” He moves to sit next to you, his massive frame making his shoulders brush against yours as he settles on the stool. The next few minutes are an in-depth and detailed discussion regarding his ex, someone you know as Blonde Blazer. Again, you’re not big on superheroes, but you know her from the buses and commercials she appears on. That’s how you vaguely know this guy, he’s on billboards and stuff.

You speak when he finally finishes speaking, “Wow, that’s.. rough.” To you, it sounds like she wanted something different and this guy, in his infinite wisdom, had no idea what she was talking about. “Sounds like you guys wanted different things.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” He lets out a deep, full body sigh, his head hangs like a dejected puppy.

“What was your question?” That seems to spark him back to life for just a second, remembering his question, he turns his head to look back at you.

“I wanted input from a human person. I am not a human, nor am I a person.” Your eyebrow twitches slightly in confusion, but it’s not the craziest thing you’ve ever heard, especially with all the crazy superpowers people have these days. “Blonde Blazer was my purpose on this planet, I seek to understand why I no longer have it.”

You grimace a little, looking away. Your hand thumbs the rim of your glass, “I’m no expert in relationships, sorry.” Sighing, you answer to the best of your abilities. “But like I said, it seems to me you both wanted different things. You clearly want a life full of superhero work and whatnot, and she wants to eventually settle down and retire.” You pause for a moment, finding your words. “She’s not a villain for breaking up with you, and it’s a part of life to find new people and sometimes split off from the ones you thought would be there forever.”

He seems to absorb your words. Looking down at his cup, he’s silent for a long time. You see his eyes change as he thinks, “Perhaps..” He pauses, “Perhaps, you’re right.”

He rubs a hand over his face, rubbing the space between his eyes. A gesture so human for such an inhuman man. “You are not the first person to tell me this. A human, Robert, spoke of something similar. Of finding a new passion.”

You nod, “This Robert guy has the right idea.” Taking a sip from your glass, you enjoy the burn in your throat. The clock is ticking, and it’s starting to get late. “You just need to find something, or someone else, you’re passionate about.”

He nods, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Thank you.. having two human people advise me has been very helpful. For someone so weak, you are very intelligent.”

You raise an eyebrow, but this guy clearly has no social skills, so you don’t hold it against him, “Thanks ..?”

Finally, he smiles at you, and if he had a tail, you imagine it’d be wagging.

You two talk for a little more before you decide to go, it’s late and your morning headache will be horrible. Standing from the stool, you stretch, “Well, I’m gonna head out. It’s late, and Ubers only get more expensive.” You grab your phone and wallet, “It was fun talking to you.”

He stands with you, “You too.” He puts a hand over his chest, “Thank you for educating me.” You nod in appreciation. His voice rumbles through the bar, “Please, let me take you home.” He smiles, so honest and endearing that you can’t help but say okay.

The air is cold when you walk out, his shoulders barely fit through the doorway. You can hear his boots thud on the concrete as you walk on the sidewalk, “So, where’s your car?” You took the bus here, so it’s either an Uber or walk for you.

He stops walking beside you, and you do the same, looking over at him in confusion. “Uh?”

You blink, and he moves so fast you don’t even notice until you’re in his arms, legs hung over his forearm. “Woah-!” You look up at him in surprise, one hand gripping his bicep while the other grips his shoulder. “What are you doing?” Your voice sounds incredulous, hands gripping harder.

All he says is,“Taking you home,” before he bends and launches into the air. He keeps you secure in his arms as you both fly, your hands moving to wrap around his neck. Your heart races as you see the city beneath you, the air wooshing in your ears. You cautiously brush some of the hair blowing in your face off, scared to get rid of the death grip you have on his neck.

Through the air wooshing past you, he raises his voice so you can hear him, “I held back on my launch and the speed!” He smiles at you, “Otherwise, you would’ve died!”

“… Thanks!” You give him a smile that translates more into a grimace, hands resuming their tight grip on him. With how strong he is, you doubt he even feels it.

Even with his reduced speed, he reaches your apartment quickly as you point it out below. The ground is a welcome sight as he lands on the concrete, the thud making relief flow through your body.

He gently places you down, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Thank you.” Your voice is a bit breathless from the flight, and a little shock at what just happened. He nods in appreciation, looking up at your apartment.

“Will you be alright getting to your apartment? Or should I help you-?” He reaches like he wants to pick you up again, but you back up, “No!” A nervous laugh, “I got it.” You put your hands up to assure him, “Thank you, though.”

He nods, grinning. While he smiles, he looks like the superhero you know he is.

“Well, I should probably go.” You can physically see the confident posture bleed from his shoulders, a sad expression making its way on his face. He nods, looking down. “Thank you, again.”

A little guilty, you walk up the stairs to your apartment. Grabbing your keys from your pocket, you put it in the keyhole. Something in you makes your head look back at where he’s standing, and you feel guilt pang in your chest. He’s walking down the sidewalk, looking visibly dejected.

Sighing, you rub a hand down your face before you step towards the balcony, “Wait!” Your voice carries through the night, a little too loud for how late it is.

His head perks up, and he turns around quickly. You hesitate before speaking, “Do you want to come in?”

He nods, and moves so fast that you blink and he’s in front of you, smiling. “Thank you.” His demeanor seems semi happy again, and you give him a hesitant smile before stepping back towards your door. Opening it, you hold it open so he can step inside. His shoulders barely fit again, and the slightly hazy state from the alcohol is wearing off, but not enough to stop you from drooling at the sight of his broad shoulders.

He takes a look around at your small apartment, “For such a small living space, you have decorated it nicely.” He runs his fingers over some books and trinkets you have laying around, you let him fiddle with them while you take your boots off; wobbling slightly as the alcohol hits you again.

The boots sit by your door when you finally take them off, walking into your living room. He’s sitting on the couch, looking so out of place in your apartment. His hulking frame engulfs your couch, a dip under his weight.

“So..” You’re not sure where to go from here, or why you invited him into your apartment in the first place. “Comfortable?”

“Very, thank you.” He looks at you from his spot on the couch, the grown out hair on his face does nothing to dim the happiness he seems to radiate. You guess he just needed a friend, or someone to talk to… guess that’s you, for tonight, at least.

He eventually breaks the tension, asking you questions about Earth and your apartment. You answer him as honestly and truthfully as you can, and the night goes on. The topic eventually goes back to Blonde Blazer and his recent bout of depression, “So, is that why your facial hair is.. like that..?” You ask delicately, not wanting to offend him.

“Yes. One could say I have ‘neglected’ myself.” He looks down, like a sad puppy. A dejected emotion sets in his brows. “Without reason or purpose, what is the point of ‘self-care’?”

You feel bad. Like, extremely bad for the man sitting next to you. The way he’s describing his situation and feelings hit home for you as someone who’s been there. And truthfully, still currently in that headspace. The depression, the feeling of worthlessness, of not having any sense of purpose, it’s something you’ve felt before, multiple times. Sighing, you rub a hand down your face. “Okay.. come on.”

You lead him into your bathroom, rummaging through the cabinets for a leftover men’s razor your ex left behind. “Sit.” You point to the toilet, putting the seat down so he can sit. Like an obedient puppy, he follows your command. The plastic creaks when he sits, the weight of him a little much for the cheap toilet your landlord put in.

You finally find one, a blue electric razor that matches parts of his uniform. You grab some of your own shaving cream, and stand in front of him. He doesn’t seem to question your actions as you slather it on the mutton chops he’s grown, the razor buzzes in the quiet bathroom.

Gently, you shave the unkept hair from his face. During the process, his eyes never leave your face, and you jolt a little as his hands land on your hips. You’re standing between his legs as he looks up at you, the hair falling to the ground or in his lap. “This is.. step one.” Your voice is soft, and you’re careful not to get rid of his mustache. A little self-indulgence causes you to leave some stubble but other than that, you clean him up nicely.

You stroke his face a little, “There. All done.” You make sure to clean up whatever leftover shaving cream there is with a wet towel, he looks clean shaven and superhero-esque again. His hands stay on your hips, and now that he’s clean-shaven, you recognize him completely.

It’s a little stupid how you didn’t figure it out before, he’s very obviously Phenomaman. The outfit and the face? Seriously, how did you not see this before? These past few months have passed in a haze, and everything going on in your life didn’t make it any better. Let’s just blame it on that.

He finally speaks, “Thank you. Somehow.. I feel lighter.” You nod in response, knowing how he feels. You could be in a horrible headspace, but a shower or a haircut always makes you feel better, even if only a little.

You respond, softly, “Of course.” His hands are still on your hips. You’re not petite or anything, but his hands are big enough to engulf your hips. His grip isn’t hard enough to hurt, only anchor. There’s a beat of silence in the quiet space, and you’re looking down at his eyes gleaming in the soft light of your bathroom.

It has to be the alcohol. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you lean down, kissing him. He reciprocates with enthusiasm, hands shifting to wrap around your middle to pull you closer. His hands are calloused, and you can feel the warmth through your clothes, his lips are the opposite. Soft and just wet enough to help your lips slide and shift together. Your hands slide up to cup his jaw, deepening the kiss. It’s a little sloppy, and you can tell he’s not super experienced, but his enthusiasm makes up for it. It’s like once you started kissing him, you just can’t stop.

One of the hands on his jaw slides to tangle in his hair, and you accidentally pull a little. The groan he lets out sends heat between your legs, so you pull again. His movements become a little slower, distracted by the hand you have in his hair. Pulling away, you pull him by his uniform.

He follows as you drag him into your bedroom, closing the door behind both of you. When you look up at him, he seems flushed, panting a little.

You don’t want to be anyone’s rebound, but he seems to understand that he and Blazer aren’t getting back together, and with his mentality, you doubt sex is a big part of the way he thinks anyway. Plus, with a body like his, you’re not really complaining.

“Is this okay?” You have to ask, just to be sure. His mental state seems iffy, so you need him to answer.

His voice rumbles the walls of your small apartment, “Yes.” Just a simple answer, but it does the job. You push him gently onto your bed, his back hitting the sheets. He stops you before you can go any further, “Before we have intercourse, I feel the need to tell you that I do not have typical human genitalia.”

It makes you stop, standing in front of him as he lays on your bed. “.. What does that entail, exactly?”

He looks unsure of how to answer, so you take the reins, “We’ll just- cross that bridge when we get there.”

He nods, looking a little relieved that you didn’t freak out. You shimmy on the bed, straddling him, you both make out for a while, and his hands roam your body, careful to keep his hands in respectful areas. Unlike him, your hands roam everywhere you can touch, appreciating the hard muscles beneath you. You’re a sucker for masculine men, and he is very, very masculine and very strong. The lines of his biceps and his abs hidden his clothes makes you drool, a little more enthusiastic as you kiss him.

In the process, you start to shed your clothes. You take off your top, letting it hit your bedroom floor somewhere and your bra follows. You notice his eyes don’t immediately latch onto your exposed chest, like a regular human person would.

He seems to be more focused on your neck, or your pulse point. You’re not sure what he is, exactly, but you can’t imagine the both of you have the same insides. His calloused hands roam your skin, focusing on places that emphasize how alive you are.

When he follows in your footsteps, his uniform slowly being peeled off, your mouth waters at the sight of him. His chest is covered in hair, and at this point, you must have a muscle fetish or something because of how much heat rushes to your cunt at the sight of him. You want to bite, lick, and suck all over him. It’s like a feral, aggressive feeling in your chest.

The only thing that might deter you is the massive bulge under his boxers, it’s .. cock shaped but not quite. Slightly off. You’re naked at this point, and very, very ready.

You look up at him in confirmation before you peel his boxers off, his nod of approval giving you the confidence to finally unleash his length.

You’re not sure what you expected, and you can’t decide if you’re confused or turned on. Instead of a cock, there’s a phallic shaped tentacle, and two others beside it, except they’re far more tentacle shaped. “Huh.” The tentacles match his skin color, with a slight glisten to them, like the equivalent to human pre-cum.

His voice is a little shy, almost ashamed, “I apologize. I understand that I am.. hideous.”

You reassure him, “No, no. Not at all.” You gently take one in your hand, squeezing to see how it feels. He almost whimpers, and looking at him, you can’t understand how Blazer couldn’t have sex with him. You don’t know much about this woman, but you have an inkling she just didn’t want to have sex with him. Which is totally okay, and you understand as a person who’s been in relationships, some bad and some good. But she probably should’ve told him before it did irreparable damage to his self-esteem.

You stroke him for a little longer, brushing some hair behind your ear before you lean down, taking him in your mouth.

His back arches, and you wonder if this is the first time he’s ever had a blowjob, or- well, the human equivalent to one. The noises he lets out are a little pitiful, but they send a rush of heat between your thighs. Unable to help yourself, one of your hands reaches down to circle your clit. The other strokes one of the side tentacles. The skin is slightly slimy, but it doesn’t bother you. It feels the same as a cock covered in lube.

He doesn’t make any attempt to push your head down, content to grip the sheets and take what you give him. He doesn’t let any of his moans or whimpers stifle, and you mentally apologize to your neighbors trying to sleep.

You do your best to try and take him all the way down, but it seems almost impossible with his size. Even when he hits the back of your throat, there’s still some inches left. The hand between your thighs is covered in slick, and your hips twitch against your hand as you slide a finger into your wet cunt, stretching yourself out before adding another one. The sounds of you sucking him off, his whimpers, and the obscene sounds of your cunt makes you flush.

Only when he twitches in your mouth do you stop, lifting yourself up to straddle him. He whines in frustration, lifting his head slightly to look up at you, hands sliding to grip your hips. It’s a little selfish how your hand slides up to his face, fingers sliding in his mouth.

Phenomaman groans around your fingers as he tastes the essence of you, the very unique taste of you. He’s so focused that he closes his eyes. You slightly fuck his mouth with your fingers as you line one of his tentacles up with your sopping cunt. Your clit twitches in anticipation as one of the skin colored appendages lightly brushes your opening, and the biggest one fills you as you lower yourself down.

“Fuck-“ You remove your fingers from his mouth, hearing the hero pant in the absence. He groans when you squeeze around the sensitive appendage, and the further down you go, the better it gets.

He fills you completely, and you have to stay still as you bottom out. The feeling is strange and foreign, but definitely not unwelcome. No man you’ve ever been with has filled you up this much and this well. You feel completely full and you have to calm your breathing with how much energy your body puts into steadying itself. The hero breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath.

You gasp when one of the side appendages move and curl around and caress your clit, the sensitive nub lighting up with pleasure. The soft and slick feel of it makes your body hum with euphoria, your clit sending every nerve in your body into the same state.

Beneath you, he’s more like a toy than an active participant, and by the way he whimpers and groans, you don’t think he minds. Phenomaman’s hands grip your hips a little tighter as you begin to move, the tentacle not stroking your clit or inside you caressing your thigh.

It’s uncomfortable for a while, the unfamiliar shape not quite hitting the right spots. You almost want to call it quits before it finally starts to feel good, the tentacle stroking the sweet spot buried in your cunt. You’re a little more enthusiastic as you ride him, hands planting on his chest. His head is thrown back into the pillow and you resist the urge to bite down on him.

The sweat that drips down his neck and pecs is intoxicating, and you lean down to lap at it. Instead of salty, you taste something sweet, the panting of his breathing a background to your sudden newfound love of aliens and their biology.

Truthfully, it doesn’t take long for either of you to reach that peak. Your cunt feels so full, and your clit gets more sensitive as you reach your peak. Between your already aroused state and the tentacle stroking your clit, your orgasm is impending and almost immediate.

Biting your lip, you throw your head back, similar beads of sweat dripping down your body. The feelings all come together and eventually it becomes too much, you bite your lip hard enough to bleed as you come. When you squeeze extra hard around him, he groans, back arching beneath you. He comes just as hard as you do, hips bucking and grip tightening as a liquid flows from the tentacles then inside you. The feeling is strange, but it makes you feel warm and hazy. His throat rips open with groans. Phenomaman’s sounds make you come even harder, sending euphoria everywhere.

The aftermath is just as intense, you slowly stop moving on him, stilling your hips. His panting, and your own, fill the room as you flop down next to him after carefully extracting his tentacles from between your legs. You lay beside him, chest rising and falling.

“That was.. wow.” You breathe out, closing your eyes in the post-orgasmic haze.

“Stellar.” His voice is still strong, but it’s just as breathless as yours is.

You're content to stay like this, catching your breath, but he moves before you can speak. The bed creaks as Phenomaman maneuvers the two of you so he’s spooning you, a hand over your heart. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, almost completely engulfing you on the bed. You’re both naked, so it feels a little sticky but it doesn’t matter at this point.

You lay there for a while, his warmth seeping into your body. As his breathing slowly evens out, you find yourself not minding.

[endinsosuddenly]

meddle about

masterlist

“Are you sure about this?” Cautiously, you shimmy up the bed, his large muscles brushing against your thighs and calves. 

“Yes, I wish to learn.” Phenomaman’s deep baritone rattles your core, the sound vibrating throughout your body. 

Due to his.. alien appendages.. It’s hard for the both of you to have sex. Not impossible, but difficult. The tentacle-like flesh is often too much for you, whether it be overstimulating or uncomfortable. He seemed depressed about it for a couple days, and the Z - Team making fun of him for being unable to please a woman definitely didn’t help, either. So, he asked around, and Visi gave him her usual crude answer, “You have a mouth, don’t you?”. It perplexed him for a couple days until Sonar dumbed it down for him while biting into a twink, “Dude, eat her out.” Again, Phenomaman had no clue what that meant. Eat? Why would he eat his lover? 

It was an unusual shift that day. After many exasperated vague explanations from Robert, and Malevola being the only one actually helping, the alien understood. HR had a field day when they reviewed the shift recordings. 

And now, you’re sat on his shoulders, kneeling. His hands caress your sides and ass, the calloused skin rubbing against your own.  Looking down at him, his expression is eager, “Please, help me understand.” Again, his voice reverberates through the small bedroom and every cell in your body. 

You pause for a moment, “Well, if you’re sure.” Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you adjust again, core hovering over his mouth. The anticipation makes the space between your thighs slicken and you swallow to get rid of the dry sensation in your mouth. His soft breath hits your thighs, and his hands tighten their grip on your body, hands roaming to curl around your thighs, palms gripping the soft flesh. Phenomaman is strong, incredibly so, and you can see it in the flex of his muscles or the grip of his hands as they cherish every square inch of your skin. 

He looks up at you, begging for you to take the final leap. The anticipation of it all causes you to move a bit faster than you’d like to admit, letting your core connect with his mouth. 

You gasp and grab the headboard as his mouth meets your cunt in an open-mouthed kiss, tongue immediately darting out to meet your soft folds. His fingers tighten, and you know you’ll bruise in the morning. Not like you care, really, he’s unusually rough sometimes, like a dog that can’t help but rip up its favorite toy in excitement. Bruises are common. 

His motions are clumsy and unpracticed, not quite licking in the right spot. A little frustrated, and a lot turned on, the hand not gripping the headboard comes down to tangle in his hair, gripping and pulling. When you pull his head to guide him, he groans. The sound causes vibrations to rumble through your cunt, a gasp tearing from your throat at the sensation. Your hands tighten their grip, guiding his head so his tongue laps at your clit. 

“Right there-” A gasp, “Suck right there.” He does as you ask, the domineering command makes him shiver. A moan tears from your throat when he finally gets it right, soft lips sucking around the soft nub. His tongue follows after, lapping in a soothing gesture. His eyes are closed in pleasure, hair a mess and mustache drenched, no doubt. 

You feel some movement from beneath you, and in your hazy mind, you register his hips bucking. His alien appendages bulged against the soft fabric of his boxers. You wouldn’t let him take them off, insistent on teasing him a little. Don’t worry, he likes it. 

Phenomaman makes no move to pleasure himself, he knows better. His hands stay planted on your thighs, gripping and caressing as he pleasures the space between your legs. The sounds of his mouth and your moans fill the room, soft whimpers leaving both of your mouths. 

In your haze, the hand in his hair moves one of his hands to grip your breast before returning to his soft brown strands. You’ve taught him how to touch you in most places, so it’s almost muscle memory when he begins to thumb your nipples. The extra sensation causes a shiver down your spine, head thrown back in euphoria. 

Subconsciously, your hips begin to move on their own, the delicious feeling of his tongue driving you insane. You grind down against his face, drenching it even further. His tongue grinds against your clit, the movement of your hips bringing even more attention and stimulation to the nub. Admittedly, you get a little carried away, your hips move back and forth rapidly as his tongue works against you, almost making out with your cunt with the way the open-mouthed kisses flow out of him. 

It only takes a couple more laps of his tongue before you feel it, the building sensation of an orgasm. Your back arches, and your hips move a little more demanding, grinding down on his face even harder. With the way your hips are positioned, you can almost grind against the hard bone of his nose, the slight extra stimulation sends you further into oblivion. Soft whines leave your mouth, eyes scrunched closed in pleasure. The sensation builds and builds, driving you higher and higher. 

When you finally come, your body locks. Your knees want to knock together as your orgasm flows through your body, the feeling rippling through like lightning in your veins, but they can’t, so Phenomaman’s head is trapped between your trembling thighs and weeping cunt. He laps up the juices flowing as you orgasm, hard and satisfying. The slick sound is louder than your whines, and it causes your face to flush a little. 

Panting, you chuckle, “Wow. Sure that was your first time? Woah!-” He moves faster than you can comprehend, flipping you both so your back hits the soft mattress. Looking up at him, his eyes are filled with something that you’ve grown accustomed to, desire. His face is covered in your juices, and his chest rises and falls with every pant. 

“I want to learn more. I wish to be thoroughly educated.” His speech predates his lips, the soft flesh kissing up from your feet to your thighs. Those calloused hands move again, moving you. He manhandles you so your hips lift from the bed, thighs over his shoulder so he can kneel as he eats you out again. You barely get a say in the matter before he begins to lap at you, tongue working in the ways he learned you like. 

Unlike last time, he doesn’t give you an option to move his head. Phenomaman simply uses his tongue how he likes, and with his hands holding you down, the only thing you can do is take it. Even the attempts your arms make to guide his head are futile, as the way he has you folded prevents you from getting a good grip. 

He groans into your cunt, the rumble mixing with the wet sounds his mouth makes as it pleasures you, and the increasingly loud moans you’re letting out. This time, it takes a shorter time for you to reach your orgasm. The overstimulation from jumping right into more pleasure and his eagerness makes your back arch, his tongue barreling you toward that euphoric state. 

Phenomaman’s hands grip your hips as he holds you against his face, and groans into your cunt when you come on his face, the juices drenching his mustache even further. Your legs tighten around his head again, hands gripping the sheets and eyes squeezed in ecstacy. The sensation leaves you breathless and panting, heart racing as he gently lowers you to lay on the bed, wiping his mouth.

“Was that.. Adequate? The way Malevola described this activity made it seem like many found it difficult. I found it was quite simple. Perhaps because the people of this planet are often weak, and helpless. They cannot even pleasure their lovers.” His tone holds no smugness, only the blunt curiosity and honesty of an alien. “Yeah-” You catch your breath, hearing your racing heart in your ears. “You did good, really good.” 

The bulge in his pants throbs against the fabric, but he makes no move nor does he say anything to indicate he wants more, content to just pleasure you and be done. You sit up, finally able to breathe normally, smirking slightly, you shift closer to him. One hand grinding against the constricted appendage. His breath hitches when your palm makes contact, grinding down. 

“Your turn?” 

[endinsosuddenly]

“What did you think I was going to say? ‘Oh, come here, i’ll kiss it better?’” yes astarion that's exactly what i expected.. short drabble / little hcs

tw for like. a slight wound, but astarion is all up in it with his mouth so

you hiss as the knife slices your hand. it's a clean cut, and rather small, but it still stings a little. you were cutting up apple slices, and you used a little too much force, causing the knife to slip and cut your palm. dropping the apple, you hurry over to the bathroom and place your hand over the sink, not wanting to get blood everywhere.

like a moth to a flame, astarion shows up in the doorway. "i thought i smelled something delicious," he grins and shuffles beside you. while your rummaging through the shared medicine cabinet, for bandages and what not, he grabs your wrist and brings it up to his lips. "want me to kiss it better?" you huff out a laugh, but nod anyway.

astarion brings his lips to the cut on your hand, and kisses it, gently. he lightly licks the blood around the cut, careful to not irritate the wound. you can feel his groan against your palm as he savors the sweet taste of your blood. you found what you needed for the wound, but you let him continue, anyway. he sucks on the wound, and you wince a little; astarion lifts his mouth for just a second, still so close you can feel his lips move on your palm, "sorry, dearest." the next time his lips meet your skin, it's soft and gentle.

once the cut stops bleeding, astarion lifts his mouth again. not before licking all the blood that might've spilled down your wrist or arm, not wanting to waste a drop. "there, all better." he gives the cut another gentle kiss, and grins at you while you bandage the wound. maybe it's a placebo effect, but you swear the cut doesn't hurt as bad as it did before.

now. headcanons.

after the initial mocking response of “What did you think I was going to say? ‘Oh, come here, i’ll kiss it better?’” and you two are getting serious, i think he is the type to kiss it better.

astarion, of course, licks the blood off your wounds; always asking beforehand, though. he's careful not to make it worse, and mostly stays on the outside of the wounds.

but even more, he kisses them. tending to keep them gentle and light. he'll kiss your cuts, bruises, or scrapes.

when you have headaches, he'll kiss your temples. astarion will kiss your joints when you have joint pain. he'll press soft, comforting kisses to your chest when it feels heavy.

you swear he's some type of wizard, because those gentle kisses do help you feel better; like a healing balm across your whole body. astarion loves that he can make you feel better, wether it be by stabbing whoever gave you those wounds, or kissing them better.

masterlist

[endinsosuddenly]

masterlist

astarion kissing hcs.

astarion's definitely the type to kiss your cheek. i think as time goes on, he's obsessed with the littler acts of affection. kisses on the cheek and long hugs; kisses on your nose, temple, or the corner of your mouth. when he does kiss you, during these gentler moments, he's careful of his fangs. astarion doesn't want to take any blood from you during these moments, not wanting to think about his predicament at all. sometimes he'll take both of his hands and cup your face, using his thumb to gently swipe them back and forth on your jaw/face. other times, he'll use just one to touch your face while the other grips your shoulder, or it wraps around your waist, sometimes hooked around your neck (if you're on the taller side). he loves these soft kisses, they're a testament to how far you both have come. you show astarion how different life is when someone loves you. he's used to people kissing him as a gateway to something more, but you kiss him just to be close to him, and he does the same to you. you don't expect anything from him except his love, and that you will always have.

now, during the regular/raunchier moments, astarion lets himself go a little. he doesn't mind if his fangs snag your lips, and neither do you, obviously. the blood makes it better, in a way. it's depraved, and vulnerable, your lifeblood spilling into each others mouths. you had to reassure him that it was okay, at the start. he felt a bit guilty taking your blood without asking, but you told him that it makes it better. to see him so out of control with just kisses. plus, you love the pain; the sting his fangs cause when they brush your lip just hard enough to cut.

he loves to make out with you. the gentleness of both your mouths together send shivers down his spine. astarion loves the moments when you're both laid in bed, him perhaps laying on top of you, arms wrapped around your waist, head lifted up to meet your mouth. your hands are tangeled in his hair, gently tugging and scratching his scalp. the room is filled with a candle glow, any light from the outside blocked off, maybe gentle music playing as you both intertwine your legs. it's a gentle moment of connection, and it calms astarion to know it's up to him wether this moment continues, and if he decided not to, you wouldn't be dissapointed or angry. the love you feel for him is felt through the kisses, the way you treat him so gentle, and your hands in his scalp. in this moment, kissing and being close to you.. it's the most at peace astarions felt in 200 years.

[endinsosuddenly]

“you know.. if you want to spend time with me, you only have to say so.”

^ saw this dialogue in a youtube short and this is what my brain conjured.

astarion is shocked at first, when you ask, “can we spend some time together?” the sun has gone down, the other camp residents lay soundly in their tents, and you both are in pajamas. his brain immediately thinks the worst, assuming you’re asking him for sex. “of course, darling. we can spend as much time together as you’d like.” it’s said with a fake, lust-filled voice.

he blinks when you raise an eyebrow, “not like that.” you rub your hands down the fabric of your sleep pants, “you said i could.. ask whenever i wanted to spend time with you. this is me asking.” he hears the shakiness in your voice, and he understands that you were maybe shy or nervous to ask him. astarion admires your bravery, even over little things.

“i.. yes, we can spend time together. i meant what i said, dearest.” and he did; as time went on, astarion’s found that he actually.. likes being near you.

you spend that night just talking, but it starts to happen over and over again.

you ask, “can we spend time together?” and astarion indulges. sometimes you two just sit in silence, basking in each others presence. sometimes it’s you discussing the path ahead, your worries or things you’re excited to confront. together, you discuss cazador and what to do, (while subtly talking down astarion from ascending the entire time). you discuss what it’s like being a vampire, or what it’s like being whatever species you are, or whatever backstory you have. he asks alot of questions about you, and you ask about him, occasionally. you’ve learned to keep them light, though; he’ll open up when he’s ready. sometimes, discussing books you’ve both read, celebrities you both hate, music you both love, anything you have in common has been talked about in a million different ways.

when this started, perhaps during the end of act one, you both sit pretty distantly. astarion on one end, comfortable on a cushion, and he offers you his bedroll to sit on. the distance is a good representation of your relationship, and as time goes on, they both change. you go from sitting at opposite ends, to him sitting across from you, on the floor; to him sitting right next to you, and eventually, you two spend time together simply existing in each others arms, babbling about nonsense.

these times aren’t focused on sex, soft kissing, or really anything romantic. they’re focused on you both as people, getting to know each other and getting closer. it helps as time goes on, and the relationship furthers. serving as times to talk through an argument, or comfort after a sad moment.

if he were to look back at all the moments he’s proud of, offering his time to you all those years ago would be very close to number one.

masterlist

[endinsosuddenly]

cuddling is one of astarion’s favorite things to do and i will die on this hill.

the warmth of you, mixed with the sound of a live heartbeat. being able to hear your veins and the blood that flows within them. the expansion and deflation of your ribs every time you take a breath.

but more than that, he loves being close to you.

when you first start your relationship, you have to reassure him that it’s okay. that you don’t mind being woken up just because he wants you to hold him. and of course, he’s very reluctant but eventually, with your reassurance, astarion understands. most nights he will just lay on top of you while you sleep.

he loves putting his head on your chest, to feel your heartbeat, but astarion also loves to just.. be on top of you? he likes to be held, and it’s strange, he never thought he’d want anyone to touch him ever. and when he does put his head on your chest, you better believe the rest of his body is completely on top of you, as well. arms wrapped around you, legs intertwined, physically as close as he can get to you without digging in your skin.

which he also loves, astarion wishes he could get under your skin and feel your warmth from the inside. buut, this is just as good. the feeling of your hands twisting and smoothing down his curls gets him extremely sleepy, and he loves when you braid the slightly longer parts of his hair. a state of bliss and complete safety overwhelms him when you two snuggle up together.

astarion finds his emotions are highest when you’re both in this moment. cuddling is one of the most pure things you can do with someone, it’s all about being close without any sort of sexual intent. you’re holding someone just to be close to them, to cradle and protect them; and he loves that. it shows him how much you care, to be able to do this without excepting it to turn to sex. astarion feels like a puddle, in a good way. sometimes, he’ll tear up a little while you hold him, thinking about how far he’s come, how much he loves you, how he can feel your love in everything you do, and your life together.

and you love this, too, obviously. having his head over your heart; between your breasts or just on top of your chest. you like when he’s a little higher too, head rested a top your collarbone or shoulder. you cradle him, in a way, and rest your chin atop his head.

you both love it, and if anyone else from camp saw you two, they’d sigh and mutter something about lovesick idiots.

[endinsosuddenly]

saw this in my activity. YOU specifically understand my cuddling post magicalcorvid.

[endinsosuddenly]

astarion with a stronger, taller tav. he loves that their neck is within biting distance, or even just easy access to kiss.

you lean down when you hug him, and he presses a soft kiss to your neck. or lays his head on your shoulder.

astarion has to stand on his tip toes when he wants to kiss you, and you have to crane your neck a little bit. he doesn't mind, particularly. he enjoys pulling your hair to make you equal to his height.

calling you his "little love", not matter how tall you are. (i remember seeing this hc before, i think from neckromantics?)

laying on your chest, and sprawling across your body. (see this.)

hiding behind you, like a little shit, when he steals from the wrong person; even though you both know astarion can defend himself. smiling, as you try to cover his ass.

loves when you scoop him up in your arms, especially during bedtime. you gently lay him down on the bed before you guys lay down together.

astarion loves to take advantage of your height. and on a deeper level, he loves that you can be taller than him, yet never make him feel small. you can be intimidating, and loom over everyone, yet he never feels scared of you. astarion loves that he can trust you like that, and he loves you, regardless of your height or body.

when astarion feeds, he'll bite into your biceps, or another strong body part. perferably, one that you can flex and he can drool over.

now.. some nsfw. you can skip these they're very self-indulgent to my own tav.

i read a fic like this, can't remember what it was, unfortunately, but astarion getting fucked while still being so clearly in control. whether you have a strap or a cock, he loves being able to tell you what to do while you give him pleasure.

him on top, this time. stretching your long legs over his shoulders, they're heavy with all the muscle you carry, but he doesn't mind. astarion loves being able to bend and fold you however he pleases.

collaring. having you on your knees. head reaching astarion's chest even kneeling down, pulling your leash tight, making you stand up. or pulling it down, making you kneel. he cradles your face in his hands, showing some gentleness and love before pulling the leash tight.

^ having the collar / leash combo while you fuck him. pulling it tight when he wants you to go faster, looser when astarion wants you to slow your speed. he's in control, and you are just a toy for him, in this moment.

^^ MORE of this cuz i'm sick. giving him a blowjob, having his legs atop your shoulders. again, pulling and loosening the leash based on how he wants it.

expanding on "he enjoys pulling your hair to make you equal to his height. " astarion pulls a good handful, and forces your lips to meet his. kissing you hard, or gentle.

and of course, these are all talked about beforehand and with clear consent. astarion would never make you do anything you're not comfortable with.

i hc that after the netherbrain, sex is off the table for a long time. these are all after you both settle down, and astarion's comfortable enough.

[endinsosuddenly]

i don’t have loki’s character down all that well, and i am really only just getting into marvel, but i like pretty men so i’m gonna try. pretend this is an AU where Loki joins the avengers or something..

-

you’re powerful, a cosmic threat amongst all fronts. maybe a monarch, a god, or simply.. lucky. and yet, you are kind. a 'superman' character type. not one to use your powers for evil, maybe a little mischief, but never to hurt anyone (who doesn't deserve it).

when you join the avengers, you're well respected; and making friends is pretty easy, even with the resident trickster, Loki.

he's not very nice to you, at first. it takes a while for him to open up, but you're understanding of his actions. while you may not approve of some, you undestand. the feeling of being in someone elses shadow is one you know all too well, and you understand how it can hurt. deeply.

you two speak in code, almost; short quips and little sass filled jabs at each other. others don't understand it, but they don't need to. Loki, as the God of Mischief, loves to prank you. Changing your hair color or dangling you at the edge of the Avengers Tower and dropping you from hundreds of feet in the air... harmless pranks, of course.

it takes months, maybe even a year or two, before you finally get into a relationship. you have to break down those walls, and he has to learn to understand you. Loki won't ever admit it, but he enjoyed figuring you out, it's like a personal puzzle made just for him.

now, some relationship headcanons yaaaayyy!!

Loki loves for you to braid his hair, (have you guys seen this?). tiny ones that blend in with the rest of his hair, maybe using little green hair ties; or using ones that match your main color scheme.

^ he braids yours too, of course. being an "Asgardian", he knows how to braid. the ones that he gives you are a bit more skilled and neat. a regular mono braid, or dutch braids adorn you regularly. if you have shorter hair, he does tinier braids. for different hair types: if you have a curlier hair type - Loki might struggle a little bit at the start, but he learns, for you; but in time, he's a pro at them. if you don't have any hair, he'll buy you headpieces, instead.

if i remember correctly, tony called him a "full-tilt diva". and it's.. absolutely true. he's such a diva. Loki loves a good put together outfit, and it's even better when you two match. He'll pick out a pretty dress, or suit, or something you're comfortable wearing to go with his outfit; typically, it's a green / gold ensemble.

Loki loves when you buy him flowers, or any gift, really. and he buys little trinkets for you, too. jewelry, mostly. you tend to buy him more sentimental things. even if at the start of your friendship, he resents sentmiment, Loki learns to tolerate it, for you. the jewelry is often engraved with his name, or a symbol; and of course, he has a matching set. maybe you get the necklace, while he gets the earrings.

ok headcanons done. hopefully this isn't too ooc, enjoy <3

[endinsosuddenly]

cuddling is one of astarion’s favorite things to do and i will die on this hill.

the warmth of you, mixed with the sound of a live heartbeat. being able to hear your veins and the blood that flows within them. the expansion and deflation of your ribs every time you take a breath.

but more than that, he loves being close to you.

when you first start your relationship, you have to reassure him that it’s okay. that you don’t mind being woken up just because he wants you to hold him. and of course, he’s very reluctant but eventually, with your reassurance, astarion understands. most nights he will just lay on top of you while you sleep.

he loves putting his head on your chest, to feel your heartbeat, but astarion also loves to just.. be on top of you? he likes to be held, and it’s strange, he never thought he’d want anyone to touch him ever. and when he does put his head on your chest, you better believe the rest of his body is completely on top of you, as well. arms wrapped around you, legs intertwined, physically as close as he can get to you without digging in your skin.

which he also loves, astarion wishes he could get under your skin and feel your warmth from the inside. buut, this is just as good. the feeling of your hands twisting and smoothing down his curls gets him extremely sleepy, and he loves when you braid the slightly longer parts of his hair. a state of bliss and complete safety overwhelms him when you two snuggle up together.

astarion finds his emotions are highest when you’re both in this moment. cuddling is one of the most pure things you can do with someone, it’s all about being close without any sort of sexual intent. you’re holding someone just to be close to them, to cradle and protect them; and he loves that. it shows him how much you care, to be able to do this without excepting it to turn to sex. astarion feels like a puddle, in a good way. sometimes, he’ll tear up a little while you hold him, thinking about how far he’s come, how much he loves you, how he can feel your love in everything you do, and your life together.

and you love this, too, obviously. having his head over your heart; between your breasts or just on top of your chest. you like when he’s a little higher too, head rested a top your collarbone or shoulder. you cradle him, in a way, and rest your chin atop his head.

you both love it, and if anyone else from camp saw you two, they’d sigh and mutter something about lovesick idiots.

masterlist

[endinsosuddenly]

jealous astarion is dear to my heart, but it does hurt a little too. when he’s jealous he does get a little meaner, sharp insults that are directed towards you and others in the camp, not necessarily because of insecurity but because of anger. he hates the idea of anyone else being deserving of your kindness. i do think even when he’s not ascended, astarion does have a sort of possessive nature about him, especially when it comes to you. the only person in 200 years to treat him differently and truly mean it.

he holds you close when he’s jealous, sometimes digging his nails into you when you two finally get in bed to sleep for the night. he probably bites you that night, too, wanting to stake an even bigger claim in the form of neck bites.

i think sometimes he becomes a little too mean, and hurts you without really meaning to. he only then realizes it when you go quiet, you tear up, get angry, or however you react when provoked. he doesn’t apologize right away, because i don’t think astarion’s the type to immediately backtrack (especially when jealous, angry, sad, etc.) only when you stop talking to him for prolonged periods of time, after blowing up at him, or crying, or whatever else, does he apologize. his apology comes sort of backhanded at first, “well, darling, it was my fault to not recognize you couldn’t handle some fun banter. perhaps Gale’s little quips are more your style?” and when you don’t respond, or shoot him a glare, or walk away does he really understand how he fucked up.

the next apology is genuine, and you explain to him why taking his emotions out on you is not okay, and how it hurts. “well.. i..” it’s hard for him to get out the words, he didn’t mean to really hurt you.. maybe just a little. to make you feel even the littlest fraction of hurt he felt by even the thought of you leaving for someone else. “I.. apologize, dearest. i will do better in the future.” and he does, because he cares. sometimes he messes up, but so do you. and as the years go on, you know him and you know why he reacts and how he does, you hold him accountable and he appreciates it.

200 years of learned mannerisms and mentality isn’t going to go away overnight, but with you there by his side, astarion thinks he’ll be okay.

masterlist

[endinsosuddenly]

astarion whittles for you. little roses. first they start with thorns and sharp edges that cut but slowly, as your relationship continues, they soften. the edges of the petals aren’t sharp enough to slice you, and the thorns don’t prick hard enough to draw blood anymore. much like himself, he no longer throws insults and subtle jabs to hurt you and push you away, instead soft whispers and affection soaked compliments.

the first one is messy, like it was made in a rush. if you looked back on that moment, you’d remember that it was after some argument you two had, after the tiefling party but before you knew his true intentions. and even as the years pass, it’s your favorite one. it’s full of emotion, and you can see every pass his dagger made against wood. it irritates him (not really) that even though he’s made countless others, much more perfect than the last, you insist the first is your favorite.

each of those roses had your initials on them, in various places. first, they’re hastily carved, like he was reluctant in adding them. but of course, as time goes on, they become delicate and insanely well done, you get lost in the cursive slopes of your initials. as he falls in love with you, they just get better and better. soon enough, a tiny ‘+ A.A’ is carved next to them..

masterlist

[endinsosuddenly]

warmth

Short drabble of Astarion n tav cuddling. Very soft and domestic, maybe ooc astarion but oh well. Aimed toward a stronger fem tav cuz why is there never any content for fem tavs who aren't dainty little flowers.. Anyway enjoy it tysm for reading i appreciate you. probably will write more astarion.

—----

The room is cold, the moonlight from the open window creeps in and illuminates the wooden walls. His love had a habit of keeping the window open, enjoying the breeze, but really it’s to feel less trapped. Astarion could understand that, the need to have an exit ready and open at all times, so he didn’t say anything. He could see the moon from where he was laying on the bed, faced towards the window and back towards the door. 

His love slept behind him, arms wrapped around his middle. Her face was burrowed into his neck, with soft breathing that reached his ears. Astarion had his back against her chest, left hand tracing small circles on her arms that wrapped around him while the right played with her loose hair. It tickled his neck and shoulders, but he’s become accustomed to it. It was one of his favorite things, anyway, her hair. It tickled his neck when they hugged, even though she was taller than him, and was soft in his hands when they kissed.

She shifts a little, and holds Astarion tighter. If he needed to breathe, her grip would be too tight; but he loves it, it makes him feel grounded. Her strength is another thing he loves. Astarion knows he’s not very strong, but he doesn’t mind it. His wit and sharp dagger can protect him just fine, but having someone as strong as her backing him does bring a sense of security. Her face burrows deeper in his neck, and Astarion can’t seem to pinpoint when the room got so warm. Maybe it’s them, under the blanket and her body heat that warms the whole room. It would make sense, his love is bright like the stars- no, the sun. Warm on a winter’s day but blazing hot during the summer. Warm and comforting to Astarion but scorching and burning to anyone else. Astarion would see himself as the snow that falls during the winter, only enjoyable when you protect yourself from its frostbite, but melted with the sun, it’s turned into a puddle. He thinks that’s rather accurate their relationship, and he smiles when the similarities become too much. She melts down his defenses with her warmth, and he’s unable to do anything to stop it. 

He shifts a little under the blanket, using one hand to tuck a stray piece of her hair behind her ear, and softens when she speaks, “Go to sleep, Star.” Her voice is muffled against his neck, and slurred with sleep. Astarion’s voice comes out far too sweet and far too soft, “You first, darling.” His grin splits his face and hurts his cheeks when she grumbles in response. One of her hands leaves the space across his middle and makes its way up to his chest, right where his heart would be. “Did you.. have a bad dream?” Astarion’s heart would skip a beat if it still had any rhythm, even half-asleep she still asks about him. “No, darling,” he can hear the smile in his voice, “Just not tired.” It’s true, elves don’t need to sleep and he prefers to trance whenever she’s gone, anyway, wanting to savor every moment when she is near him. It’s another reason why he’s so content to just lay here, Astarion wants to memorize every breath, every small twitch, and every sleep ridden mumble for the inevitable moment when it’s all gone. 

“Mm..” She grumbles, with a suspicious tone, but lets it go, it’s not a rare occurrence for him to just lay there while she sleeps. Her concern used to be that he didn’t like it, but Astarion has reassured her multiple times he enjoys just laying there with her. He reassures her, and he can feel her relax a little behind him. He presses a soft kiss to the part of her face he can reach, and smiles hard when she mirrors him, kissing a soft spot of his neck. Her hair tangles around his fingers as he plays with it, and he knows it won’t be long now before she falls back asleep, leaving him to think about their life. About how lucky he is. Astarion’s grin turns into a soft smile as he whispers, “Go to sleep, little love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

[endinsosuddenly]

hold me like you never lost your patience

i wrote this during therapy 

cw - 'i must not tell lies', sirius asks harry if he did it to himself

-

    Sirius would’ve seen it even if Harry was being subtle. Which he wasn’t. Well, at least not to Sirius. Harry could never muster up enough courage to lie to Sirius and it bled into his behaviors as well. He was staying at Grimmauld Place for Christmas, it was Harry, Sirius, the Weasleys, and whoever from the Order who could make it. Whenever Sirius would look at Harry, the boy's eyes would flicker to his hand and he would suddenly become nervous. As if there was some sort of secret he didn’t want Sirius to know. So, naturally, Sirius became suspicious of his godson's behavior. 

    Sirius watched and saw Harry scratch and rub at his hand. The boy’s face would scrunch up in pain and he would sometimes wince when he thought no one was watching. He would pick at it, like there was a scab or a wound on his hand. It was obviously bothering him. Sirius knew why Harry wasn’t telling anyone because he wouldn’t either. Sirius knew because he was Harry at one point. He was Harry when he was Grimmauld all those years ago with his parents.  Somehow, knowing that was worse than the fact that Harry hadn’t confided in him.

    Harry saw Sirius watching and knew eventually, Sirius would ask. So, he prepared himself for that inevitable, painful conversation he wasn’t prepared to have. He knew Sirius knew. He knew the conversation would make him uncomfortable and whenever he thought about it his stomach would turn into knots, his throat would tighten, and his heart would race. He was nervous, anxious, on edge. 

    Sirius had to wait for the right moment. He knew that if he came on too fast, or too strong, Harry would shut down completely. If he came on too soft, that gave Harry the opportunity to ignore the situation all together. 

    He often had a hard time wavering on that line, the line between being too lax or being too serious . Sirius knew that in order for Harry to really open up to him he had to figure out what method of parenting was perfect for his kid. He approached this situation with caution and he knew that he had to do this right. Sirius couldn’t - this wasn’t something he could fuck up. This was crucial and extremely important to him because Harry was. Harry was crucial and extremely important to him.

    So, Sirius waited until after Christmas. He wanted to give Harry a couple of weeks to enjoy his Christmas in peace until the uncomfortable conversation came. 

    Fast forward maybe a week after Christmas, they were still on break but the days were coming fast when they would have to once again board the Hogwarts Express and go back to school. It was after dinner when Harry made his way up to his room to go to bed, the boy’s nerves had relaxed a little, thinking that maybe if Sirius hadn’t talked to him yet he wouldn’t at all. 

    Harry made his way upstairs to his room, (which Sirius had carefully decorated for him. Grimmauld was Harry’s home, Dumbldore’s orders be damned. Harry wasn’t going to share in his own home. ) Sirius followed, albeit a little after, he needed some FireWhiskey to calm his own nerves. Only a little, though, just for courage. 

    Sirius stood in front of Harry’s door, he stood for maybe a minute. Contemplating what he was going to say, what he was going to do if his kid reacted negatively, what tone would he use, what was he going to do if Harry started crying, all these thoughts rushed throughout Sirius’ head, until finally, he put his foot down and forced his thoughts to calm down. And carefully, ever so carefully, he knocked on Harry’s door. 

            “Come in,” Harry said from inside the room, voice slightly shaking. Sirius never really came in and talked to Harry in his room, unless it was about something important. Of course, he said I love you, and Goodnight but that didn’t require him coming in and really getting comfortable / sitting down in Harry’s room.    

    Sirius opened the door and stepped inside, seeing Harry sitting on his bed, “Getting ready for bed?” He walked over to the boy’s bed and sat down next to him. “Yeah, just y’know.. Putting my pajamas on and stuff, just doing some homework.. Y’know..”

    Harry had never dealt with something like this. He’d never had anyone care enough about him to really sit him down and ask what was wrong. Of course, the Weasleys had tried but this was different. This was Sirius asking him. He would always see Molly and Arthur as people he could go too but Sirius was the real deal. He didn’t have to share Sirius. Molly and Arthur would always have other children to take care of, Harry needed someone to look out for him, to know when he was hurting or when he was hiding something and that was Sirius. The man had broken out of Azkaban for him. This was different, and Harry didn’t want Sirius to leave once he found out how broken Harry really was. 

    Sirius softened, he could tell just how nervous Harry was. He knew he needed to tread very lightly. “Have you been.. Working on homework? I know Snape likes to give ghastly essays, especially over breaks.” He smiles and chuckles to lighten the tense atmosphere and it works, Harry chuckles, “Yeah.. uh,” He swallows,” I’ve been working on that essay and reading up on some things for other classes.” Sirius nods, “Kinda unfair for them to give homework over the break.” Harry smiles, “Yeah, It’s stupid.” Then, silence. 

    They both sit there for a minute. Waiting for the other. Though, Sirius knows if he doesn't talk Harry won’t. 

    “I don’t know what’s got you so anxious or what’s got you picking at your hand, but.. You know you can talk to me, right? You could never say or do anything that would stop me from loving you. Do you know that?” Sirius turned his body to the boy, looking for his reaction.

“Yeah..” A weak voice spoke, cracking halfway through the word. Because no, Harry didn’t know that. And to hear Sirius say that so freely, for Sirius to love him so unashamed was too much for him to handle. Harry had walls, and to everybody else they were sturdy and unbreakable but when Sirius tried to get through they would meld and fall down like they were made of hay rather than bricks and stone. Harry takes a shuddering breath, and wills his body to relax. It doesn’t work. 

    Sirius hesitates for a moment, if Harry was already this affected by a simple statement, how were they both supposed to get through this without serious emotional damage? Sirius puts his hand on Harry’s back, slowly rubbing up and down in an attempt to comfort him. It does work as Harry feels his body relax but not his head. 

    “Harry.. Could I maybe.. Take a look at your hand?” He asks, softly and lightly, preparing for Harry to lash out or get angry with him for even asking. That seemed to be Harry’s default mode these days and he had good reason to be angry. 

    This breaks Harry out of his silence, “No!” Harry says this as almost he was betrayed Sirius even asked. He leans away from Sirius, opting to instead sit across the room, at his desk chair. Putting distance between him and his godfather. He didn’t want to be within arms reach of him. Harry learned young not to be within arms reach. Being too close to Sirius would have him break down, and he needed to keep these walls up. He wouldn’t let Sirius see how low he really is. Sirius reaches his hand out when Harry gets up and puts it down onto his lap when the boy sits at his desk. Facing Sirius but arms crossed in a defensive position. 

    Sirius looks at his godson for a minute, his eyes dart down as he chooses his next words carefully. “If something is.. Bothering you.. I need to know, Harry.” 

    “Nothing’s bothering me.”

“Then why do you keep scratching at your hand?”

    “I don’t use hand lotion.”

Sirius deadpans, “Harry.”

“What? It’s true. I have terrible skin.”

“If something is hurting you, I want to know.”

    “It doesn't hurt.”

“So there is something then?”

    Harry pauses, “No. There’s nothing.”

“Harry.” 

    “Sirius.”

“Is it a cut?”

    “Stop.”

“Did you accidentally hurt yourself on something in the house?”

    “It’s nothing, please drop it.”

“Did you do it to yourself?”

    “No! God- Sirius- could you please just drop it?”

    Sirius runs his hands through his hair, “You know I can’t do that Harry.” Harry doesn’t know, actually, “No. I don’t know that. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of nothing. It’s just a little scrape.” 

    Sirius is starting to get closer and he knows it, “If it’s just a little cut, let me see it.” Harry makes a frustrated noise and shakes his head. 

    He can tell being assertive isn’t really getting him anywhere, so Sirius takes the softer approach. “Harry… You do know that I care about you? I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. I care about you. I care about your injuries, even if they're simple paper cuts. I will still care about them just like I would care about a broken bone or a stab wound. I understand that.. Not a lot of people have.. Made you feel as though you’re important to them, but that’s why i'm here. I’m here to show you that you matter. That even when you’re not being the Chosen you’re important.  Even when you’re not being heroic, you still matter to me. I could care less about you defeating Voldemort. Even if you don’t, I will still be so proud of you. I love you, would you please show me what’s wrong?” 

    What follows after is silence. Sirius looks at Harry with a soft look and Harry’s face is turned towards the ground by the end of Sirius’ speech. Several minutes of silence. Heavy, heavy silence. The kind of quiet that makes your heartbeat sound like a drum. 

    “I can’t,” Harry’s voice is hiccuping and shaky, “You won’t want me afterwards.” His voice cracks and breaks, and Sirius can make out tears hitting the floor and his heart breaks in two. “You won’t love me once you figure out how .. how messed up I am.” Harry leans forward and puts his head in his hands, small sobs wracking his body. 

    “Oh, Harry..” Sirius stands and walks over to the boy, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He stands the boy up and walks them over to the bed, sitting them both back down. His arms still tightly wrapped around Harry, unwilling to let go, yet willing to stay for the rest of eternity. He rocks him back and forth, rubbing his back up and down, Sirius’ chin on the sobbing boy’s head. He can feel his own tears start to form, threatening to spill. “There is nothing. Nothing. That could ever make me stop loving you, Harry.” His own voice cracks slightly, “Nothing in this world could ever stop me from loving you as my own, and there is certainly nothing that you could ever do to make me not want you anymore. I’ll always want you right here, with me. I’ll always want you around Harry, through heaven or hell.” 

    Harry’s body jerks with more sobs, Sirius’ words both breaking down his walls and building them back up. He’s never felt wanted by anybody. Yet, here Sirius is. Telling Harry everything he should’ve known since he was a baby. Telling Harry he’s worth something, even when he’s not Harry Potter. He’s worth it. Harry is worth it. The little boy under the cupboard is worth it. The Freak from Number 4 Privet Drive is worth something. 

    He cries and cries, he lets out all the sobs he tucked away. He lets out his tears like a tsunami and Sirius’ shirt is soaking by the time he’s done. Harry relaxes into Sirius’ arms. He relaxes like a child would relax into their father’s arms. Harry feels tired. But even after that, Sirius didn’t leave. Didn’t push him off with disgust the moment his tears started soaking his shirt. 

    He pulls away from Sirius, already missing the warmth he felt and looks down for a minute. And slowly, he holds his hand up, showing Sirius the words carved into it. 

    Sirius’ body feels like a livewire, seeing I Must Not Tell Lies carved into his kid’s hand. It feels like someone shot him with a Crucio. It’s torture and his face crumbles. Sirius holds his hand, gently, and thumbs over the words. He inhales, shaky and deep. “Harry..”

    Harry looks at Sirius and is shocked to see him react strongly, but it drives home that message. The message that Sirius actually cares about him. “Umbridge gave me detention. She think i’m lying about Cedric, everybody does.” He explains, sniffling. 

Sirius inhales deeply, he knows he has to get a hold of himself, for Harry. “Let me.. Let me go get the medic thing we have downstairs. Wait- Accio, First Aid!” Sirius takes out and holds out his wand, and puts out his other hand just in time for the kit to smack into his hand. 

He puts it on the bed beside them, opening it and taking out bandages. Then taking out a slightly purple tinted glass bottle, “What's that?” Harry asks, slightly nervous. “It’s Murlap Essence, it’ll help. Trust me.” Sirius looks tense for a moment before taking out a small towel and dabbing a few drops of the liquid on it. He caps the liquid back up then dabs the wet towel on Harry’s hand. 

It's silent while this happens. Harry lays his head against Sirius’ shoulder and his breathing starts to slow. The crying from earlier making him tired and dazed. His eyes start to droop and Sirius starts to make circles on his back, gently scratching his scalp once he's done with his hand. Harry’s eyes close and for once he doesn’t have a nightmare. All there is is Sirius. Sirius and his ability to make Harry feel important. Sirius and his comforting words. His comforting touches. Sirius and his love. Sirius and his love for Harry.