#Lily the calf

[verynerdybitch]

[hydrus101]

The queer rural hick in me wants to put my moderate calving knowledge to use and write a farming sim fic where Arthur & John have some dairy cows and have to help deliver the two headed calf and John stubbornly decides to stay with it all night till it passes

[h-beesarts]

A friend asked me to make this for them so I did!

it's my own take on both the two headed Calf, and the base story of the corpse bride. specifically Emily, her bouquet in the movie had lilies, roses, and babies breath, in the movie they name off the other flowers, except for babies breath, so I took that as Emily not willing to admit she's innocent, or naive, seeing as those traits are part of how she died, right? (it's been a hot min since I've watched this so I'm notb100% sure on that but still!)

thank you for reading my yappa yappas <3

(please don't copy or claim my art!)

[lqveharrington]

Gentleman | R.L.

summary: remus lupin is the perfect gentleman.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, you and sirius are practically siblings, rem defending his girlfriend, someone gets pushed off a boat

a/n: all my inspo literally comes from the music i listen to 😭

James had invited the entire group down to the lake for the summer because it was the last summer before the last year of Hogwarts. He thought it should be memorable, and everyone loved the idea. His parents allowed him to borrow the lake house and boat, but only if everyone's parents were okay with it. Of course, your parents trusted you with your friends. The only rule was to stay in separate rooms from your boyfriend. Oopsies.

As the Potters’ boat slowed to a calm stop, the summer wind continued to blow through the air, the clouds nonexistent in the blue sky. The sun shimmered across the lake water and the radio played the top hits of the month, the sound drowning from the talking of the boat’s riders.

When Sirius had enough of all the chitchat, he quickly shed himself of his top and jumped into the lake water, splashing Marlene who was trying to tan on the boats end. She cursed him out and threatened to pull the ladder away when he splashed her again.

Witnessing the entire interaction, you hid a laugh behind a smile and left the girls to sit beside Remus who was sitting underneath the shade of the boat. You tucked your legs underneath your lap and leaned your chin on his shoulder. On instinct, his calloused hand found the space underneath your calf and gently squeezed even when talking to James. You admired his face glowing in the sun for a beat, eyes following the scars that were left behind from bad nights before he finally turned and met your loving eyes.

“Hey.” You murmur and grin when you felt him press a soft kiss to your lips. “Sirius just went into the water." He hummed and kissed you again, making you hum and separate once more. "You don't want to join him?”

“And leave you here all by yourself? What type of man do you think I am?” He thumbed your leg and felt for the rushing blood, ensuring there was a pule and that you were in fact real. It was a habit he was quick to have learned because of a full moon incident a year ago.

You shrug and rest your cheek on his shoulder instead, watching the gulls fly by and circle the food James was grilling. As he tried fighting them off with tongs, Lily and Dorcas began to draw sunscreen images on Marlene's back, not bothering to cover up their giggles.

“You don’t want to join the girls?” Remus tilted his head and scanned your side profile, following the contour of your face. He memorized every single bump and crease, gingerly tucking a piece of loose hair behind your ear when you looked back over at him.

You raise a brow at his guilty smile and analyze his mannerism, rubbing the one bit of sunscreen into his cheek. "What?"

“You just wanna stay in the shade with me, don't you, dovey?" He brought his hand up and gently cupped your cheek, pulling you close enough so he could press a kiss to your temple.

“Of course, wherever you are, I follow.” You grin as a blush creeps up your neck, not realizing Sirius had gotten out of the water and rolled his eyes at how affectionate the both of you were being.

“You two are so gross." He covered his eyes before shaking his head like the dog he was — ridding himself of all the water he brought up with him.

You groaned when you got hit with the water, glaring at the long-haired boy. He stuck his tongue out at you which you retaliated with your middle finger. You swore that Sirius had a secret hatred for you since you began dating Remus over a year ago.

Sirius gasped at your gesture and put a hand on his chest, returning the finger. Remus rolled his eyes at the both of you and gave you a pointed look, making you cover it with your hand.

"Prongs, do something! The lady won't go down without a fight!" SIrius complained and popped a soda can out of the cooler, leaning against the railing of the boat.

“Mate, I don’t know what you want me to do.” James threw him a confused look and reached inside the cooler to hand Lily her own can. "Besides, I can't do much here."

“You could toss her over board." Sirius muttered loud enough for you to whip your head toward him and glare.

"You were being mean first!" You move to stand only to be pulled back down into your seat. From the corner of your eye, you saw Remus pursing his lips in thought, making you sigh. "Rem—"

“Sit.” He practically commanded, rolling his eyes once more when you crossed your arms and legs in annoyance. But when you noticed his quick wink, you realize what he was going to do.

You smiled slyly toward Sirius when he met your eyes again. The poor unsuspecting bloke. Sirius gave you an annoyed look and went to say something — probably insulting all women — when Remus pulled him aside.

Assuming Remus was going to hangout with him instead of you, Sirius stuck his tongue out before yelping in surprise as Remus pushed him off the boat. Your eyes widened with a smile, stretching your neck to see where Sirius was flailing. The three girls burst out into laughter at the predicament and quickly moved away from all the splashing water, grabbing a polaroid to take a picture before he could get out. James just shook his head in disbelief, clasping his arm around Sirius’ and helping him up.

Remus tossed a towel in Sirius' direction before sitting beside you again, kissing the side of your head like nothing happened. You gave him cheeky smile and laced your hand with his.

“What a gentleman.” You chide before letting out a noise of surprise at the feeling of his lips on yours, dropping your hand to lay flat on his chest.

“Some gentleman you are.” Sirius muttered as he dried himself off. When he realized Remus was staring back at him with an unimpressed look, he took a huge step back behind James and quickly apologized. “Kidding, I’m kidding.”

You send him another death glare before staring up at Remus with soft eyes as he thumbed your palm, a small smile taking over your face. "You know we're probably going to get pranked anytime soon, right?"

"As long as I spend quality time with you, I think I'll be fine. Besides, he won't try anything too bad." Remus tilted your head up with his index finger. "I'm a gentleman anyway."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[moonstruckme]

i know you have the reader saying “i love you” first to poly!m, but would you be open to doing one with just sirius? And doesn’t have to be reader saying it first, could be either, but just the first “i love you” with siri?

Thank you for requesting <33

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

Sirius has been meaning to tell you, he really has. It’s only that feelings weren’t something encouraged in the house where he grew up, and he’s still not very good at them even now that he has the words, and though he’d called James a prat when he said Sirius was bad at vulnerability James is usually right about those things. Every time Sirius tries to say it, the words stick back in his molars like caramel. He wants the moment to be right, but not so heavy with gravitas that he can't play it off as casual if he needs to. Also, he thinks that if you don’t say it back he’ll probably have to move countries and change identities. Still. You deserve to know. 

Sirius decides all this whilst watching you sleep on a Sunday morning. Time moves like sap as you wake up, slow and sweet. First your face turning to the side, cheek pressed into the pillow. Then your body follows, and you’re laying on your stomach, one leg hiking up so your calf brushes Sirius’ thigh. Your eyes crack into the sunlight, then shut again. Sirius thinks about tracing every slope and curve of your face, starting with your nose and working his way outward. You mumble something, half in a dream. Eventually, you catch him looking, and your eyes flutter open, smile stretching lazily across your cheeks. 

The sun rises in Sirius’ chest.  

“Hi,” you murmur. 

He gives in to one touch, drawing a line from your temple down to your chin. “Hi,” he says back. 

He thinks that he has to tell you now. He’s known for weeks already, and when’s better than when he feels it so strongly and has just resolved to have you hear it? 

He traces the same path back up your face, letting the words take form on his tongue. Your eyes flare before he opens his mouth. 

For a moment, Sirius wonders if you’ve read his mind. But then you gasp out, “What time is it?” 

He tells you, and you vault out of bed, suddenly wide awake. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh, passing an anxious hand through your hair as you hurry towards the bathroom. “I was supposed to meet Mary for coffee at nine! I can’t believe I forgot to set an alarm.” 

Sirius sits up. “She won’t hold it against you. Everyone sleeps in on Sundays, whose idea was it to meet before noon anyway?” 

“Hers.” Your voice sounds garbled, and he guesses by the sound of it that you’re brushing your teeth. The sink turns on. “I just hate the idea that she’s been waiting on me all this time.” 

He pummels his feelings back into submission, getting out of bed. “I’m sure she hasn’t.” He pads into the bathroom, hugging you from behind whilst you speed-run your skincare routine. “James said he was out with her and Lily last night. She probably didn't remember to set her alarm either.” 

“Really?” You sound hopeful. “I don’t want her to think I ditched her.” 

Sirius presses a placating kiss to your shoulder. “I bet she's just waking up herself. Want me to give her a ring?” 

“Would you?” 

“Sure.” 

“Thank you.” You turn around, kissing him properly. Sirius’ lips buzz with the things he can’t say. “You’re the best.” 

Well, at least he can be that for you. 

~~~

The second time Sirius tries to confess, it’s just as impulsive. What can he say—planning was always more James’ thing, Sirius never had an affinity for it. He does his best thinking on his feet. 

You’re in a pub, your friends and drinks abandoned at a table in the corner. It’s loud and crowded, one of those electric Friday nights. And this pub, in what Sirius chooses to believe is a happy turn of fate, has a hallway. It’s short and sparsely lit, leading only to an employee bathroom. Through rose-tinted glasses and possibly also beer goggles, it looks to both of you like an opportunity too good to pass up. 

Sirius has you pressed between stacks of chairs, your laughter fizzing on his tongue. You taste like cider and the sticky toffee pudding you’d ordered on a whim to split with James, and one of your fingers is hooked through Sirius’ belt loop as if to keep him tethered to you. As if you need to do anything at all to be sure of that. 

He pushes his knee between your thighs, and your lips curve against his. 

“Cruel,” you say. “You can’t do things like that in public.” 

Sirius plays dumb. “Things like what, lovely girl?”

“Tease me.” 

“Oh?” He peeks at you through his lashes, and you’re looking at him, too, eyes glittery. “And what is it that you think you’re doing?” 

“Kissing.” 

“Right. Is that all?” 

He can practically feel the giggle bubbling in your throat. “What else?” 

“No, nothing. Nothing at all.” 

You press your lips to his, and Sirius thinks it, crystal clear. An obvious truth. He thinks that it might be fun to tell you this way, to let you feel how his lips form the words against your own. Maybe you can roll them around in your mouth and give them a taste. 

“I—”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” 

You’re looking behind him, expression turned to shy contrition. You’re smiling just a tiny bit, eager to be laughed off and forgiven, but the pub manager Sirius finds when he turns around appears only weary. 

“Just go,” he says. 

You don’t need to be told twice, urging Sirius out of your little alcove and pulling him by the hand back towards your table to relay the story embarrassedly to your friends. The moment passes. 

~~~

The third time, Sirius actually does plan, but you don’t show up. He considers this a probable sign that he should never plan anything ever again. 

If he’s being honest with himself, he’s pretty put out. James got all this stuff into his head about romance and home cooked meals and even though Sirius doesn’t consider himself good at either of those things, he did try. He made the simplest thing he could find that you might like, cleaned off the kitchen table for the first time in forever, lit candles and then blew them out because that felt like too much. Lit them again, because who was he kidding. 

It was supposed to be a surprise when you came home from work, only now it’s an hour past when Sirius had been expecting you and you’re not home. Not your fault, obviously. He hadn’t hinted you were doing anything special, and you’re not obligated to keep him abreast of your comings and goings no matter how much Sirius wishes you would right this moment. He’d caved and called your work a few minutes ago, worried about you, but there’d been no answer. Your office is closed for the day. 

He nearly jumps out of his chair when you come in, a cold wind coming with you before you shut the door on it. 

“Fuck.” You give a shiver, setting two drink containers down on the counter before starting to pull off your coat. Your hair is wind-whipped and your lips look chapped. Sirius has a suspicion that if he pinched the tip of your nose it’d be frozen solid. “It is gusty out there.” 

“What happened to you?” Despite his best intentions, there’s a bit of accusation in Sirius’ tone. “Did you go somewhere after work?” 

“It’s so—” You laugh, taking off your shoes. “It’s so stupid, honestly. But in my defense, I had no idea how long it would take.” 

“How long what would take?” 

“Okay, you know how—wait.” You look around, noting the candles and the set table. “Did we have plans?” 

Sirius winces. “No. We didn’t. This was…impromptu. It was going to be a surprise.” 

“Did you make dinner?” 

“Well, it’s cold now.” 

Your lips part, crestfallen. “Oh. Sirius, baby,” you breathe, moving towards him, “I’m sorry. I’d have come straight home if I’d known.” 

“I know,” he says, fighting his own umbrage at the humiliating blunder. “I didn’t tell you. It’s fine.” 

“But you made—” 

“Would you just—really, it’s okay.” Sirius uses your hands to pull you down into the chair next to him. “Just tell me what happened.” 

You still look miserable—really not what Sirius had hoped for tonight—but you start to explain again. “You know how you were obsessed with those salted caramel hot cocoas that one coffee shop had?” 

Sirius feels his eyebrow lift. This feels like an odd place to start. “Yeah. The one that they sold out of after two weeks?” 

“Right,” you say weakly. “They said it was because they had troubles with the vendor and ran out of the syrup.” 

“Yeah…” 

“Well, it turns out there’s more than one of that particular coffee shop. This girl at my work was talking about this salted caramel hot cocoa she’d tried, and she said she got it at another location of the same place. They’re, like, a local chain or something.” 

You’re still looking guiltily at the cold plate of food beside you, but you’re picking up steam now, talking more animatedly and fishing a tube of lip balm out of your pocket as you tell the story. 

“So, I looked it up and it turned out there was one right close to my work. I figured that had to be the place she got it, so I went down there to snag one after I got off.” You smear lip balm on while you speak, Sirius’ attention captivated by the movement. “I waited in this whole long line, and when I got up there the guy said the same thing they told you at the other place. They hadn’t had it for months. 

So I called my friend from work, and apparently there are actually three locations and she’d gotten it from the one near her flat. And her flat was totally across town, but I figured I’d already waited in line, why not just commit? So I took the bus down there and…” 

You stand, going to the counter to retrieve the drink containers you’d come in with. Sirius had forgotten about them. 

“...got us these.” You pass one to him. “The guy said hardly anyone ever orders them there, for some reason. I got him to sell me a thing of the syrup, too.” You point with your chin to the counter. “It’s in my bag. I thought we could try to make our own, even if they’re not quite as good.” 

Sirius is appalled. “You spent over an hour after work running across town…to get me a hot cocoa?” 

You smile sheepishly. “I told you it was stupid.” 

“Are you kidding me?” He sets his hot cocoa down on the table, taking your face between his hands and kissing you ardently. “I love you.” 

He knows your eyes are open without having to open his. When he does, pulling away from you gently, your lips stay parted. 

“Sirius,” you say slowly, the way you might talk to a wild animal, “it’s only cocoa.” 

He grins, a nervous tic. “I realize that makes the whole sentiment sound rather conditional, but it’s not really.” 

“Do you really mean it?” you almost whisper. 

Sirius swallows. In his head, blurting it out involved much less explaining. This seems like that vulnerability thing James warned him about. 

“Yes,” he says. Forces himself to do it without fanfare. “Of course I meant it. Why wouldn’t I mean it?” 

“It just seems like the sort of thing you might say on a whim,” you admit. Later, Sirius thinks, you might laugh about how close to the truth you really were. You look bashful now, shrinking in on yourself and lip dimpling like you’re biting down on a smile. He chooses to interpret this as a good sign. 

“It’s not a whim,” he reassures you. “It’s…I’ve been meaning to tell you.” He cracks a smile, grateful when you let yours loose too. “Felt like you ought to know.” 

You give a little laugh. “Is that why you made dinner?” 

“Not my best plan. We can blame James.” 

“James knew?” 

“Well, I—” Truthfully, there’s not much that goes through Sirius’ head that James doesn’t hear about. Usually immediately. “He’s got some more practice with this stuff than I do. You know, considering he’s been professing his love to Evans since he was about eleven years old.” 

You’re still smiling. A private, amused sort of smile. “So you consulted with him.” 

Fuck. Now Sirius feels about eleven years old. “Humiliating, isn’t it?” 

“No.” You wrap your fingers in the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Sweet.” 

You kiss him much more nicely than he had you, soft, gentle presses of your freshly moisturized lips. Your hand moves to cup his face. 

“Oh,” you mumble. “I love you, too, by the way.” 

Sirius lets out a relieved bark of laughter, too loud and too sharp. “Good to know,” he says. “Thanks.” 

You laugh, too. “Sorry I forgot to say it. Fuck, I really ruined your confession every way imaginable, didn’t I?” 

“That’s okay.” Sirius leans back in. “I ruined it first.” 

[ervotica]

poly!jily 35. cuddle pile !!

i adore them ✩ fem!reader, 421 words

Lily's breath is soft and even against the top of your head.

You're wreathed in thick strands of auburn, tucked into the dip of your girlfriend's clavicle. An old soap plays on the telly, mindless white noise lulling you to sleep as Lily's slender hand scrubs across your back; up and down, fingers splaying across the nape of your neck to draw you closer.

Your lips smack wetly as you press kisses to her freckled skin– her shoulder, throat, jaw. She hums, stretching slow and lazy like a cat, hooking an ankle round your calf. You sink into her like soft butter.

You're both half asleep by the time the door creaks open and snicks shut. Heavy footfalls permeate the otherwise ebbing quiet of the flat.

A kiss smears against the corner of your mouth; you hear a squeaky smooch lovingly pressed to Lily's, too.

"Jamie," you coo; your voice is thick and syrupy with sleep, though no less loving.

"Hey, babylove. You two snuggling without me?"

Lily curls her fingers over the scruff of your neck, effectively trapping you before James can steal you away. You smile- light and happy and lovely- and reach for James' outstretched hand.

"You were long," Lily says, thumbing at the crease of his elbow.

"There was a queue at the shops, pretty girl. Would've been back sooner, otherwise."

James' hand is at the small of Lily's back before you can muster a reply, lifting her up and off of the worn leather sofa – and by extension, you. He's not very graceful when he wheedles his way beneath the pair of you, but it's welcomed nonetheless.

He settles with his legs spread, both of you tucked snug in the middle. You soak up his warmth gratefully, stretching to press a slow kiss against his smiling lips.

You can't even pretend to be cross at his intrusion. He's simply too lovely.

James slides further down the settee and subsequently jostles the pair of you further into his arms. You brace a hand against the broad muscle of his chest, squishing your cheek right over his heart. Lily sinks her teeth playfully into his shoulder.

"Ow! You little vixen!" he cries, throwing his head back, arms splayed wide. You nibble at the hollow of his throat.

"Dramatic," you snort.

Lily smiles so wide it crinkles all the skin by her eyes. You thumb at her crows feet adoringly.

"Ahh, my girls," James says wistfully, glasses askew.

You can't help but needle in closer when he demands it.

[titania-sleeps]

Samyaza (Angel!Yandere x Nun!Reader)

i'm here to drop another Mikhael fic cause he misses you guys a lot

other works including Mikhael: mikhael introduction, coup de grace (your pov), coup de grace (his pov)

warning: nsfw, dom reader (implied afab bc pussy), manwhore :3, cunnilingus, amateur seduction from an angel, minors DNI pls

Mikhael waits in your desolate room. Winter comes, so you keep your window closed, but a mellow draft still flows into the room. You keep a single lily in a clear vase for him.

He sits on your bed, the bedsheets crinkling beneath his weight. He can feel the physical world respond to his metaphysical body, and he knows that he is not far from falling from grace. But he doesn't hate it, and instead relishes in the idea that he can become humanly yours. Perhaps the two of you can escape the convent and perform a marriage of your souls.

He doesn't linger on his thoughts for too long, glancing at the setting sun. The sun sets early and with the sun, you return earlier than usual. Fittingly so, as you seem to be the only light in his life.

An idea emerges in his mind, a devious smile crafted on his face. Were the Watchers to see him now, they would surely be proud of him.

He strips off the outer layer of his robes, leaving only his undergarments on. Pausing, he takes a look in your mirror, smiling softly at his own vessel. This body of his was nurtured by his love for you, his physical appendages brought forth in blood and flesh only by your existence. In a way, he was made only for you.

He hears your footsteps trudging down the hallway. He settles himself nicely on your bed in haste, making it just in time as the door opens.

"Welcome back, beloved."

You stare at him blankly. Then a whoosh.

You find yourself fallen on the bed, your body leering over Mikhael's. He blushes, but the sly smile on his face tells you everything.

"How bold..." he whispers with his peachy lips. His eyelashes flutter, though air and time are still, and snakes his arms around your waist. He tilts his neck teasingly, baring his collarbone to you. Welcoming you, even.

You raise an eyebrow. "Are you not a son of the holy Lord?" you ask, pushing away from him.

Pouting, he sits up and sidles closer to you. He presses against you precariously, letting his inner robe slip so his nipples peak through.

"And you, too, are a child of Him, yet why do I sense your arousal?" he quips back. He is a breath away from your face, his whispers fanning your lips. You notice his shallow breathing and the pink that dusts his face.

You peek into his topaz eyes. They are clouded in need and lust, a look unfitting for an angel. But his stare pierces into you, as divine revelations penetrate the minds of great prophets.

"Let us not entertain this for much longer," you respond promptly, backing away. A smile curves onto your face, both tempting and cocky.

He groans, pulling you closer. His nose nudges itself to your neck, breathing in your scent. Grabbing your hand, he places it on his bulge. Tongue darting out, he sneaks a taste of you.

"And if I want to?" mumbles Mikhael, clumsily bucking into your hand.

You retract your hand, an epiphany coming to you. Sitting up straight, you point at the floor. Confused but eager, he follows your hand and sits on the hardwood ground, head looking up.

You strip from your robe, only your under-gown remaining. You slip the skirt up, your legs crossed. Your fingers lithely lift up his chin, the moon reflected in his gaze. "Please me, and I might devour you in return."

He doesn't need to be told much more. He begins with a kiss on your toe, eyes closed, leaving a mark of obeisance and reverential adoration. Then, his eyelids lifting slowly, a careful kiss to your ankle, the anchor that grounds you. He trails up slowly; a kiss to your calf, a kiss to your knee. He leaves bites of love and limerence on your thighs. As he approaches your core, you open, granting him entrance.

"You're..." he exhales, staring at the wet folds of your pussy. His own cock throbs, the musky scent of sex wafting to his nose.

"I'm?" You spread your legs a little wider.

"Breathtaking," he finishes, his nose nudging against your opening. Cautiously, he kisses your outer fold. You shiver in response, instilling him with more confidence. He presses a kiss deeper, his tongue stretching out to sample your taste.

You leave a shaky exhale, almost frustrated by how slow he's taking it. You use one of your free feet to rest leisurely on his cock. He jolts in surprise, a surprised moan escaping his throat. The vibration of his moan has you suppressing your own moan.

"Feast," you demand, your toes sneaking beneath his robes and wrapping around his head. His muffled moans and frantic nods bring you a foreign joy.

His tongue darts in and out of your opening, hands gripped tightly on your thighs. He exits, mouth slick with your juices, and drags his tongue from the bottom of your entrance to your clit. His mouth gently places a kiss on your bud, and then his tongue comes to claim the lord of your pleasure. It wraps around your clit, drawing circles and spirals around it.

You moan, toes curling on his dick. Your hands find their way to his hair, pulling and pressing lightly. He continues his ministrations, moving a hand to press a finger to your dripping entrance.

"You're not doing bad for an angel," you say, feet stepping on his wet head. You massage his cock, pushing with little pressure. The feeling of your feet on his cock and his dick pressing against his stomach stirs him.

"It's simple when you taste divine," he mutters in between licks and suckling. You grind gently against his tongue, feeling yourself approaching climax.

"Hurry now," you breathily say, hands on his head gripping tight. With a tug or two to his hair, he quickens his pace. Oh, but you didn't want him to quicken; you wanted him to taste you fully.

You grab him and push him against your folds, urging his tongue to reach deep inside of you. His moans vibrate against you as he relents to you, submitting to your control. Your body is the bread that feeds him and your essence is the wine that quenches his thirst; his cock throbs dangerously as he feels your thighs wrap around his head, almost suffocating him.

You moan and thrust into his face, his tongue trying to keep up with you. Your hips stutter as you feel yourself closer and closer. Your head is thrown back as you cum, his face still pressed tightly against your pussy.

As you are cumming, his eyes turn up to stare at you, full of pure adoration and veneration. The moonlight stains your body with a holy glow, your sweat gleaming like dewdrops after a cleansing rain. The sight brings him to his completion as he moans and convulses in pleasure, his cock shooting globs of semen onto the floor.

He lets you ride out your climax before separating from you and looking up at you, his face wet with your juices. You admire your work on him, breaths still heavy. The two of you share a smile, a secret for only a god and their most devoted follower.

He leans down, placing another kiss to your feet. His heart and body are wholly yours, and with that, his faith. A perverse love turned holy, as his god—you—wills it.

loose references here and there, ty for reading!!

-> masterlist

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Pantyhose or pantywhores?

barbie dolls:James x regulus x Lily x fem reader

word:2.5k ish

summmary: you and your partners go to a dinner and you're hot so they take you home as fast as possible

warnings: regulus likes pantyhose, choking you revive and give, James eats you out and regulus fingers Lily, tights stay on during sex, rushed ending, very little dirty talk, James gets called a whore oops, I think that's it but idk

request: yeah how'd you know are you watching me

Regulus loved pantyhose on you, spefically the ones that he bought you for your birthday. They had flowers swirling around the legs, lillies. James loved tight dresses. He loved when his lovers sat down in them. Their thighs would push the hem up. James was a big lover of thighs. Lily loved cardigans, revealing tops, and dress that hugged your hips. She loved hip dips, often dragging her tongue over the indents.

Today appeared to their lucky day. You four were going to have dinner with Sirius and Remus. Sirius told you to dress like a high end prostute that has gotten married to a rich man, and stopped working. With that helpful statement, you dressed in your stockings, a short and flowing dress, with a pretty cardigan to pull it all together.

When you stepped out to leave, all three of your partners looked up and froze. You noticed their change, suddenly feeling like you should change. Regulus closed his book, setting it on the side table next to him.

“I don’t think Sirius will miss us. I’m sure we could stay home.” Regulus muttered. Lily hummed in agreeance. You felt your shoulders sink even more.

“Is it that bad?” You asked. James sputtered.

“It’s that good.” James said, staring dircetly at your thighs. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“Oh do pull yourselves together.” You declared, moving towards the front door. You were pulling you coat off the hook and shrugging it on just as the three of them joined you.

“Im compsed, I just also want to see you naked.” Regulus said, stamping a kiss to your temple.

“And Sirius said they had news to share.” You argued, handing Regulus’ coat to him. Lily joined you at your side, pulling on her own jacket.

“Yes, I agree. I can suck your tits after we have dinner.” Lily smiled at you innocently. James huffed, snatching his jacket from Lily’s hands.

“Damn Sirius and his annocments.” James grumbled. You were finally out the door and headed towards the restraunt in no time.

Dinner seemed to be particularly hard for your lovers. They were staring at you most of the evening. Lily sat across from you, Regulus sat next to her. On the sides you had James, across from Regulus, and Sirius. He was sat across from Remus. Lily was the first to catch on to your antics. She noticed you leaning over the table more often, and squeezing your arms together. Lily understood what you were doing and was trying her hardest to not let you see her staring down your shirt. Not to let you win, she was not going to look at your boobs. That’s just disrespectful.

Regulus was the second to catch on. He first jumped at the feeling of you bumping your foot by the hem of his trousers, making the dishware clink. Sirius looked over at him with an eyebrow raised.

“You alright?” Remus asked. Regulus nodded, making up some lie about seeing a waiter almost drop a plate. You gave him a worried look, playing the act of his innocent partner. Then just as things were settling, you started pushing the hem of his pants up his calf. Regulus looked up from his plate, glaring at you. Lily was still distracted, staring down your top.

James was the last. He assumed it was just that he was particularly horny, not that you were purposely pushing the edge of your dress up. His eyes were trained on your thighs the entire dinner. Lily eventually kicked him, coming out of her boob trance. James startled, looking up at you. You smirked at him and shrugged your shoulder, thats when he conected Regulus’ blush and your displayed thighs.

Dinner was hell for all of them, trying their hardest to pull themselves together and not eyefuck you. Regulus ignored the feeling of you playing footsie with him. Lily was trying her hardest to ignore your cleavage (extremly hard). James was trying to focus on the conversation, not your very biteable thighs. Eventually Sirius and Remus made their annocment, they were getting a new couch, and you were being pushed out the door.

You were home in no time, James putting aside his good Samaritan agenda to speed. Regulus was pulling your coat and cardigan off and throwing them in the general direction of coat rack. You heard a clatter but it left your mind as Regulus pulled you against him. He kissed with a fever you weren’t sure if you’d even seen. You heard Lily’s heels click towards you both. You felt her hand grip the fabric of the back of your dress. You were tugged towards your shared bedroom, taking Regulus along. You heard James’ heavy footfalls following you three.

Lily unzipped the back of your dress as Regulus prodded at your mouth with his tongue. You slipped your arms out of the sleeves, letting the dress pool at your ankles. You pulled back from Regulus as Lily unhooked your bra. She pulled the straps down your arms, before turning you face her. You found her already naked. James was probably the culprit, too egar for his own good. Lily quickly pulled you into a kiss, running her hands along the tiny net stretched over your hips. She pushed her tongue to meet yours as she dropped her hands to your ass, squeezing.

You nipped at her bottom lip. You felt a warm hand press against your back. You pulled away from Lily, wrapping your arms around James’ neck. You pulled him in for a kiss as well. James rested his hands on the back of your thighs before pulling you off the ground. He gently placed you on your back against the mattress. You laughed as smiled against your mouth. Regulus patted James’ shoulder. James moved out of the way so Regulus could reach you. He gently lifted one leg by the ankle. Regulus slipped your shoe off before setting it down by the nightstand. He did the same with your other shoe as Lily moved to sit next to you on the bed. Regulus then spread your legs slowly, stepping between them. He leaned down and gently kissed your lips. Regulus pulled back to stare into your eyes with all the seriousness his face could muster.

“I’ll buy you a new set, ma amour.” You gave him a confused face. Regulus dropped his hands between your legs. He grabbed either side of the fragile fabric before pulling in opposite directions. You heard a loud rip and a chill breeze float over you. You heard Regulus groan before placing a small kiss to your inner thigh, the pantyhose covering the skin. You glanced down to check his handiwork. Regulus had ripped a tear along the seam down the middle of the stockings. James peered over your raised leg. He looked back at you with a raised eyebrow.

“No underwear? Who are you? Naomi Lapaglia?” James asked. Lily leaned over at the mention of no underwear. She hummed and looked back at you. Regulus was too busy kissing at your leg to even notice.

“First of all James, It’s quite embarrassing you know her by name. Secondly, they’d make lines. Thirdly, Regulus likes it more that way.” You said, pointing at Regulus who was now tracing the lines on your calf. James glanced over at Regulus. Regulus side eyed James before making eye contact with him finally.

“You’re such a sheltered Victorian man, Regulus.” James muttered. Regulus glared at James.

“I know you can not be talking Mr. Please-tie-me-up-and-call-me-a-slut.” Regulus whispered against the skin of your knee. James gasped and pointed at Regulus, ready to start a war.

“Boys. Do try to get your priorities straight. You have two naked women on your bed and your more focused on wining an argument. “ Lily said, motioning to both you and herself. James dropped his hand.

“Too right you are, Ma chère.” Regulus said, leaning over you to kiss Lily. Regulus' attention was dragged back to your stockings, the feeling under his fingers pulling him back. He pressed his lips the a stitched flower under your knee. He looked up, making eye contact with you as he dragged a finger down the inside of your thigh. You sighed happily at him. Regulus moved back to you.

“vous êtes si belle, ma amour.” You smiled into his kiss. Regulus' hand dragged up and down the side of your legs, feeling the fabric beneath his fingertips. James patted Regulus' hip.

“Alright, alright, quite hogging.” James said. Regulus pulled back from you and glared at him. He rolled his eyes and stepped away from you, crawling on top the bed. Regulus moved to Lily, meeting her lips. James kneeled down to the floor, settling on his knees. He pulled you closer to the edge of the bed by your hips.

James glanced up at you, meeting your eyes. You nodded. He delved his face down, warming your folds with a wide swip of his tongue. You moaned, missing the feeling of James between your legs. Lily pulled away from Regulus, pressing her lips to your sternum. James moved his tongue with skill, having memorized the shape of your cunt.

You felt Regulus' hand gently stroke your cheek. You looked up at him. You smiled. Lily brought your nipple into her mouth, circling it with her tongue. You groaned at the feeling of two of your partners running their tongue over your body. James pulled your legs over his shoulders, bringing you closer. Regulus kissed your temple, tracing your eyebrow. Lily massaged your other tit just as James circled your clit. You sighed, meeting Regulus' eyes above you.

James focused his attention on your clit as Lily switched nipples. Regulus pulled you into a kiss, swallowing your whines. You pressed your thighs to James' ears. He pushed his tongue into your hole. You nipped Regulus' lip in response. Regulus slid one hand around to your throat. He tightened his hold on the sides. You crossed your ankles behind James' back.

James moaned into you, the vibrations making you roll your eyes back. You looked over her, seeing James staring up at you from between your legs. You threw your head back into Regulus' lap. Regulus released your neck, letting your blood reach your head again. Lily pulled away from your chest, pinching both nipples now. She kissed you before dipping her head now to your neck. Regulus dragged his hand down your sternum and kissed your cheek. Lily leaned over his arm, switching sides of your neck to mark there too.

Regulus placed his hand on Lily's arched back, following the curve of her ass. He pinched her cheek. Lily pulled her head away from your neck. She flicked her hair off her shoulder, glaring at Regulus. Regulus lurched forward and pressed his lips to hers. Lily pulled him closer by the back of his head, meeting his tongue. You watched them closely, focused on their movements against each other. Regulus slid his hand down her back and past her hips, dipping between her legs. You couldn't see the movement of his hands but you could assume by Lily's moans it was good.

Lily sighed and leaned down further, resting on her elbows. She pressed her forehead into the mattress as Regulus kissed her back, continuing his movements between her legs. Over Lily's back you could see James watching them, he had pulled his head up with his jaw slack. You glared at him, jutting your hips up. James moved his eyes from Regulus' hand circling Lily's clit to your face. You raised an eyebrow. James winked at you before moving back between your legs.

You moaned at his tongue. You had been so focused on Lily and Regulus you didn't notice the lack of his warmth. With it returned you remembered how nice his tongue felt. Lily pushed her hips back into Regulus' hand as she let out a whimper. James' eyes rolled back the sight, groaning into you. You pressed your thighs into his ears, dropping your head back.

As Lily's moans grew closer together so did yours. Regulus kissed Lily’s back as he countinued rubbing her clit. James kept his face squeezed tightly between your legs, pushing his tongue into your hole over and over again. You felt James moving in a repetive motion, his nose bumping into your clit. You slapped Regulus’ thigh. He snapped his head at you. You pointed at James before he moved his nose just right, making you moan and squeeze your eyes shut. Regulus looked over the edge of the bed to see what James was doing.

Regulus saw James rutting his clothed cock against the edge of the mattress. Regulus sat bacck, keeping his fingers busy as he lightly pressed a kiss to your cheek. He whispered in your ear what James was doing. You pulled Regulus into a proper kiss. Regulus moved back, kissing on Lily’s neck. You tapped James on his back with your heel. James looked up, his eyes a little glazed.

“Youre such a pathetic slut, we haven’t even touched you and you're humping against the edge of bed like a whore.” You mocked James’ whines. He squeezed his eyes shut as he kept his mouth working. Regulus pulled you into a kiss again. You nipped at his bottom lip before James knocked his nose up into your clit in just the right angle. You dropped your head back, shutting your eyes as he repeated this. Regulus kissed down your exposed throat, leaving a few marks behind. You felt Lily push herself further down into the mattress, her chest pressing into your stomach. Regulus returned his attention to her. You dropped your hand to her nearby neck, squeezing at the sides. Lily let out a strangled squeal, rocking her hips back into Regulus’ hand.

James was quickening his motions, your muscles tightening. You felt your orgasm quickly approaching, tightening your grip on Lily’s neck. You noticed her stretching her fingers out in the sheets. You knocked James in the back with your heel as you tightened your jaw from his unending torture. He plunged his tongue into your hole again before pulling your clit between his lips. You moaned as you finished, James moving quickly to lap at you. You heard Lily orgasm soon after, dropping her forehead onto the mattress. You released her neck and pulled your thighs away from James’ ears.

When his head popped up, his chin was wet, he was grinning like a fool , and the sides of his face had the inprint of your tights. Regulus’ hand came into your veiw of James’ face, slipping his fingers past James’ lips. James stared up into Regulus’ eyes as James swirled his tongue around his fimgertips. Eventually you were all seperating yourselves and dragging each other to the bathroom.

You wrapped up your night sitting on the couch in fresh pajamas, a bowl of ice cream in your lap, and Megamind playing on your tv. Regulus mentioned during your bath that he had never seen it and James was not allowing that. You passed out in Lily’s lap before Megamid met Tighten.

special thanks to @q1mblrrd give them love 🩷

[lucluvr]

good girls get exactly what they want

ft. zhongli, alhaitham, welt, and jing yuan

he thinks you’re the sweetest girl he’s ever had. a man of principle keeps his word: his good girl gets what they want!

afab chubby reader / heavy praise / teasing / fingering / oral (f!receiving) / a lot of sweet words / nipple play / use of “sweetheart, baby, honey, puppy, etc” reverse cowgirl / dumbification (if you squint) / very soft and sweet <3

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zhongli:

humanity was an interesting concept to zhongli. being thousands of years old, living amongst the liyuen people under many aliases, zhongli has had lovers come and go. he loves passionately and deeply. when his tongue ribs circles over your clit, the pressure of his hands on your hips make you whine.

in his thousands of years of experience, zhongli realized each of his lovers found pleasure from different things, however, he’s never had a lover lose their mind so quickly. forked tongue licking up and down your slit as your slick coats his chin messily.

zhongli’s amber eyes gaze into yours as he restrains your wrists against your hips. whines and soft pants fall from your puffy lips (sometimes he bites when he’s excited)

“li! please sto-“ he lets go of one of your wrists as he slides his finger into your mouth. he slides it all the way to the back as your eyes roll back. the gagging sound has zhongli crawling back into the warmth of your cunt.

“shh, just enjoy it, darling.” he’s always put your pleasure before his. your hands wrap around his wrist, trying to pull his fingers out of your mouth, but he slides a finger inside of you and you’re gone.

a muffled whine comes from you and zhongli gazes up at you again. his lips suck on the puffy pearl between your labia. he watches as your eyes roll back again. he feels your thighs cover his ears and he takes this as a sign to. start savoring the taste of you. he hums against your clit, making your soft thighs shake around him. he removes his finger from your mouth, placing it on your hips. his thumb lovingly brushes against the chub of your stomach.

your hands cover your eyes, back arching into him. he feels your muscles contract— you’re close. he opens his eyes to find your hands again. he pins them to your sides as your twitch and convulse around his fingers and tongue. he can feel you holding back.

his fingers curl upwards, making you shoot upright, but he pushes you back down. tears prick at your eyes as you hiccup wetly, begging him to let you cum.

“please, lili!! need to cum…” your words turn into mumbles as your sweet release is so near. “been a good girl, please lili…” your sweet and whiny tone has him smiling and humming against your clit once more.

as your eyes roll back into your skull, white splotches stain your vision and before you know it he’s sent you over the edge. zhongli detaches himself from your cunt, a string of saliva following his lips.

his wet lips kiss your inner thighs, squishing the soft skin under his fingers.

“my good girl,” he says in his baritoned voice. his words send butterflies into your tummy. without any warning his lips secure themselves back onto your clit. you jolt, your legs pushing on zhongli’s shoulder, but he’s quick. he catches your ankle as tears prick at your pretty eyes.

he tuts, kissing your ankles. he trails his kisses up your calf, into the underside of your knees. he pushes your knees to your chest, having you hold them in place. you sniffle as his thick fingers come back to bully your clit.

“so pretty, baby. be good for me, yeah?” you shake your head and whimper.

“too sensitive, ‘li! no ‘mre…” a soft pout appears on your lips. he chuckles and kisses the tears away.

“my sweet girl, you can take it baby. be the good girl i know you are, okay?” his honey coated voice makes your head feel dizzy. he trails kisses down your soft tummy and thighs before finding his rightful spot again. his hands push up your knees again.

his tongue swirls your clit again and his fingers are back to being pushed into your cunt. he curls his fingers against that spongey spot, making you see stars.

zhongli’s dealt with his fair share of bratty lovers who fought tooth and nail about obedience, yet you? you’re his best girl, his sweetheart. no one has ever been as pliant and as sweet as you are to him. he thinks that all good girls should get to cum hundreds of times, and zhongli will do exactly that. he is a god and his word is final. so if he says his sweet baby gets to cum until he gets her brain all jelly— so be it <3

alhaitham:

alhaitham has never found much interest in relationships. he doesnt go out of his way to interact with others, he doesn’t care much for people anyway. he doesn’t need anyone anyway when he has a wife waiting for him at home. the one who makes him chai every morning, wrapping him aloo filled roti parcels for lunch, the one who massages his shoulders when they become far too sore.

he adores his wife and he’s very open about his gratitude for you. it’s become a routine at this point. anytime he is required to stay in the desert for an extended period of time, he demands you to be seated on his face whenever he comes back.

in the words of the acting grand sage, “it is the least i can do for you.” however you think that he does the absolute most. his hooked nose bumping against your clit makes you bite your thumb as you hover over his soft lips. alhaitham grumbles in annoyance. he kisses your shaky inner thighs softly,

“habibi, sit. it’s okay.” he tries to comfort the anxiety you get every time he does this. his thumbs rub comforting circles in your hips, urging you to sit on his face. his mouth waters at the sight if your clit peaking out from your puffy lips.

“dont wna hurt you, haitham.” your lips curl into a frown as you put your weight into your knees. he kisses your inner thigh, biting them gently. to tease you, he blows cool air onto your clit, making you whine. you press on his head, “stop!”

he shakes his head, “please, baby. let me do this for you…you’ve been so good for me, please?” his voice has a slight desperation to it. it’s as if he doesn’t get to taste you on his tongue in the next few seconds he will go insane.

he’s right though. you’ve been incredibly patient with him. you’ve been at his side while he adjusts to his new job, and casually overthrows the government. due to the whole fiasco, he hasn’t had the time or energy to do anything but kiss you. sure it made you a bit sad, but when he found out he gave you the night of your life. and now he’s lying under you practically begging to make you feel so good, who are you to decline?

“but kaveh…” you mutter into your palms. “what if he hears?” you ask him, voice wavering. he sighs as he rubs his nose into your thighs.

“to hell with him. this is my house. if he had a problem, he can move out.” he grumbles against your plump skin. he kisses the skin once more before turning to you. “come on habibti please?”

he scoots you closer to his lips. he leaves the softest kiss on your clit. “promise you won’t break me,” he kisses the swollen bud again. “i’ll make you feel so good, baby. ‘m so sorry. lemme make it up to my good girl, yeah?” he mumbles into your skin. you have half the mind to question if he’s even talking to you.

his tongue peaks out from his lips, gently licking the bud. he then takes a deep breath and goes for it. his free hand parts your lips, his tongue swirling around the bud, dragging down to your hole. he sees you clenching around nothing and he coos softly. he prods two fingers inside your hole. your whines and gasps urge alhaitham on. he curls his fingers so nicely, your body shivers. you grab onto his hair, tangling it between your fingers.

your cunt is so wet and so sensitive. having your husband between your thighs, making you see stars after weeks of needing him makes you cum so quick. you don’t even see it coming. alhaitham drinks down any slick that comes from you, lapping it up like a thirsty dog.

he gently lifts you up, laying you back down on the bed. he stands tall and proud above you, removing his fitted shirt. one of his hands intertwines with yours, making you smile. his hands travel up your body, squeezing your soft flesh under his big hands.

“my pretty wife. my girl,” his lips suck on the soft skin of your waist. he makes you giggle as he prods at your ticklish spots. your sweet laughter makes him smile. “i love your laugh. i love you,” he whispers against your lips before stealing a kiss from you. you happily wrap your legs around his hips and your arms slide up his broad shoulders.

with his free hand, alhaitham unbuckles his belt. he throws it somewhere and unzips his pants. he pulls his cock out from his briefs, rubbing the tip up and down your slit. he teases your clit, tapping the tip against the poor bud.

you whine against his lips and buck your hips against his. he chuckles sweetly. (a noise only you get to hear from the sage) he presses the tip against your hole, making you furrow your brows. it’s a bit of a stretch, alhaitham realizes as he watches your face.

he reaches down to rub your puffy clit again, helping you ease into his cock. he hears you whimper and whine below him and he smiles against your skin. his lips leave a trail of wet kisses and bits down your neck and chest. he kisses around the areola of your chest. he elicits more whines and needy pants from you.

alhaitham leans up, looking down at your body. he gently pins your wrists about your head. his eyes are as soft as cotton. the sweet smile on his lips, the adoration in his eyes and the thin viel of sweat lining his forehead and collarbone make your heart flutter.

he’s gorgeous, tall, smart, handsome. he is the perfect man. he leans back down, kissing you on your lips. he hands leave your wrists, finding a new home on your hips. his thumbs run over the fat of your stomach, making you whine against him.

he smiles, thumbs pressing into the skin. if he had to pick a physical trait of yours he loved the most, it would be that. he pulls away from your lips, kissing down your body. he pays extra attention to your chest and tummy.

in the meantime, he’s been pushing himself slowly into your sweet, warm cunt. he sighs aloud as he sinks himself in. he watches as you rock your hips, needing him. he completely pulls out and then thrusts right back into, making you yelp.

he flips over, pulling you onto his lap. he watches as you bounce on his cock, hand pressed to his chest. you gasp and moan shamelessly as you bounce on his cock. his hands grope your stomach and thighs, squishing the skin between his big hands. he coos out sweet words,

“fuck, you’re gorgeous, mahiya. keep going, baby.” he rubs your clit with his thumb, “use me, baby. do it,” and you do just that. your eyes fill with tears as you curl into alhaitham. you hide your face in his neck, shamelessly moaning. alhaitham feels your cunt clench around his cock.

“there you go, sweetie. use me, honey. come on,” his eyes watch your tits intensely. he leans up, his lips wrapping around the hardened buds.

“oh fuck, haitham! ‘m gna!” you grip onto his shoulders, vision spotting. he feels your cunt clench around him hard and smiles,

“my good girl. you can do it. come on, baby. cum on me, use me.” the coil in your stomach snaps the moment he calls you his good girl. you gasp and sink your nails into his shoulder. alhaitham hisses and rubs your clit a little faster. he pushes you over the edge and your cum hard.

your mouth is agape, but you can’t hear yourself moan. you collapse into alhaitham’s chest, face buried in his neck. with a few more thrusts, he too cums inside you with a deep groan.

he watches as you push yourself off of him and lay on your back beside him. he rolls onto his side, kissing your neck and cheeks. he gets up from your bed, making you look up at him puzzled. he sinks onto his knees as he parts your thighs.

“time to clean up, yeah?”

welt yang:

sitting in the same position for a multitude of hours at a time is a grueling task. you love welt dearly, but this is your least favorite request of his. you impatiently fidget with your fingers, knees starting to feel numb.

the older gentleman sits in front of you, sketching out every curve and dimple in your bare body. your cheeks flush deeply as you avoid eye contact with him. he puts his pencil down before calling out to you,

“darling, could you please put your hands down?” he asks you with the softest smile. the creases around his eyes are ever more evident. shyly, you nod your head. you reluctantly place your hands back in position before staring around the room. he lightly chuckles,

“and look at me as well? i cannot sketch your face if you do not look at me.” he is obviously teasing you, but it’s all lighthearted. your lips pout softly before staring up at him with furrowed brows.

“you can’t remember my face?” your voice comes out meeker than intended. he shakes his head, before beckoning you over. with pins and needles sticking into your limbs, you walk over to welt who coaxes you into his lap.

“of course i remember it. i just want to see it. can you do that for me? be my good girl?” he whispers those words into your ears before kissing your shoulder.

“is that a simple enough task for you, honey?” he jests, his grip on your hips tightening. he begins to run his hands up and down you body. he squeezes the fat between his fingers, his lips kissing down you chest and neck.

you sigh into his touch, finally able to feel some warmth. the ac makes your skin burst into goosebumps. welt smiles as he watches you melt into his touch.

“i prefer you like this actually. having you sitting on my lap instead of in the floor, it’s more my style.” him and his stupid puns. you giggle into his neck, the ends of his hair tickling you face. you twirl the ends with your fingers, smiling widely.

he swivels in his chair, turning towards the bed. he lifts you up, hands holding under your thighs. you yelp, arms coiling around his neck. he softly lays you down on the bed. cooing softly at you. laying on his soft, grey sheets makes your eyes flutter shut.

you paw at his shirt, pulling him closer. you lips graze his chin, leaving kisses down his jawline. he hums softly, adjusting his face to look at you, he kisses you soft lips, his mouth tasting like the orange candy he ate a few moments ago.

his hands run up and down your thighs, parting your legs. he grinds himself against your sticky cunt, brows furrowing in pleasure. his breathing becomes a little ragged. you tug at him again,

“welt please,” your whiny voice, accompanied with the way you run your fingers over his bulge has him keeling. he bends however you tell him to, do whatever you ask of him. he nods happily, pulling down the waistband of his sweats. he kneels between your legs as he runs a finger up and down you slit.

wet and sticky slick coats welt’s fingertips. you jerk your hips against his hand as the rough edges of his palm run over your clit. you whine into the pillow set beside you, fingers gripping onto the sheets.

he happily obliges to your silent wish and sinks his finger into your cunt. you happily moan for him, your walls fluttering around his finger. he groans as he watches his fingers sink into your heat.

he pistols his finger in and out of your cunt, curling it upwards once your slick gets onto his wedding ring. he sinks another finger into you, pulling a groan from you. it’s a bit of a stretch, but welt is a patient man.

“you’ve been such a good girl for me, honey. can you keep still for a bit here too? i’ll reward you, i promise, my little fawn.” your eyes flutter open to gaze at his handsome face. your pupils morph into hearts as you nod your head. he smiles fondly, patting your head with his free hand. “thank you, pup.” <3

jing yuan:

jing yuan’s back sticks to the headboard as his hears ring with the sound of your moans. he watches as you tits bounce in his face, pretty buds begging to be touched. his eyes rolls back ever so slightly when you circle your hips as you ride him. his hand grips your hip, the other attached to your ass.

he hums as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pussy clenching. his thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit. he listens to your whimpers and honey-glazed whines. you sing better than the birds that flock to him, you’re prettier than any person he’s ever seen, you’re so obedient.

being the luofu’s general, jing yuan has learned how to teach others. some people are driven by praise, other by rewards. his reward for you obedience is this: riding him until you’re satisfied. his hand gently cups your nape, bringing you closer to his face. the tip of his nose rubs against yours as he hears the squelches of your bodies.

he becomes astutely aware of how wet and warm you are. he’s very aware of the way your body reacts to his warm hands running up and down your sides. he chuckles at the goosebumps that break out on your skin as he whispers sweet praises in your ears. you curl into his body, shivering like a baby bird. he coos at your reactions,

“aren’t you so sweet, my angel?” he kisses up the side of your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “the sweetest little thing, huh?” his hands pull you impossibly closer to his body, his eyes now trained on where you two connect.

he notices the thick, sticky, white substance that rims the bade of his cock and smiles. “look at me, angel.” he says in that smooth voice of his. you’re too out of it to hear him. jing yuan tucks your hair behind your ears, kissing your wet cheeks.

“darling,” he nips at your ears. he watches the wheels turn in your head as you process his words. your bleary eyes look into his, unfocused and hazy. he grins cheshire, “enjoying yourself?” he asks small and simple questions. you nod your head slightly.

he decides to thrusts his hips up in an attempt to wake you up, and it does just that. he thrusts into your heat swiftly, watching your tits bounce. his pretty lips wrap around the under-stimulated buds, making you gasp.

“yuan,” you say meekly, pussy fluttering around him. he hums at you, his golden eyes looking up. he lets go of your breasts to coo at you once more.

“my precious girl, you’re doing so well.” he kisses your cheeks and lips before resting his back against the headboard once again. he allows you to use him however you please. you’ve been such a good girl, sitting by his feet at his desk and waiting for his attention.

“there ‘ya go, princess. you can do it, sweet girl.” jing yuan smiles <3

© ilyhaitanii - please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my content, and do not repost it to any other platforms.  

[marzipanandminutiae]

I have a question, where would gnc/trans people get their clotges in the days before the selling of premade clothes? I assume some was stealing from relatives, and that soem of them did know how to make clothes, but that doesn't seem at all likely to be the most common method

That is an amazing question!

Unfortunately for a lot of people, we don't really know- many trans folks flew under the radar and as such details of their lives are unclear. Legendary stagecoach driver Charley Parkhurst, for example, left no sort of record as to where he got his clothes (especially since he lived in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for many years of his life). And figures like Mary Jones, a Black trans sex worker from the early 19th century, flit into and out of the pages of history so quickly that there's barely enough info to get their vital statistics, let alone shopping habits.

However, my guesses would be as follows:

Secondhand shops. These have existed for a very long time, and if you already have at least one outfit that makes you read as the correct gender, nobody would question you going through that section of the store/market/whatever.

Sympathetic conventional tailors or dressmakers. This is almost certainly where middle- and upper-class GNC or trans people got their clothing- one can hardly imagine legendary writer George Sand buying her suits secondhand, after all. And since humans have always been human, and Let People Dress How They Please; They Aren't Hurting Anyone is a sentiment I've seen at least as far back as the 19th century, I suspect there were far more of these than many people might think.

Clothing workshops catering to the demimonde- that is, to theatrical companies for costumes, or to sex workers. Certainly this is where drag performers got their stage gear, and one imagines people for whom gender variance crossed the line from performance to identity- like Fanny Park and Stella Boulton -might have turned to their costumers for everyday attire, too. And catering to sex workers probably got all sorts of requests that were seen as outre for the time (in a roleplay capacity- most sex workers dressed conventionally while not actively Doing Sex), but their money was as good as anyone else's.

Friends and relatives. Some families knowingly supported their crossdressing or trans loved ones. Even partners who married the person in question as the binary opposite gender could fall into this category- Lili Elbe (though she lived after premade dresses began to rise in popularity) first experimented with feminine attire in dresses and jewelry loaned by her enthusiastically supportive wife Gerta Gottlieb. In fact, Gottlieb was bisexual, and their marriage was only annulled because Lili was a woman now and same-gender marriage was illegal in Denmark at the time.

Also yes stealing from your relatives was also an option, of course. if they were less than sympathetic

The king of France???? this is the wildcard, and my absolute favorite: the Chevaliere d'Eon, when she transitioned in the 1770s, got the king to not only formally state that she had been assigned female at birth (there had been speculation about her physical sex for years at this point) but to pay for her new wardrobe of gowns. Absolute Queen.

"but didn't her mantua-makers notice Some Physical Things?" she's believed to have had some form of gynecomastia, based on her autopsy, and they'd never have cause to see her in less than her calf-length chemise. if they did see anything, they kept their mouths shut, and rightly so.

[fourmoony]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter Three.

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: language, abandonment, falling, mentions of broken bone and reconstructive metal work, cheating.

ITN Masterlist

You –

The ice is smooth, freshly pressed by the Zamboni. You should be nervous. Usually, you’d be nervous. But you’re tired. Exhausted, actually. If Pince knew how much you want to turn boot and skate off the other side of the ice, she’d probably have an aneurism. This is it: your chance to become a National Champion. The gateway to worlds, to the Olympics. And all you can think about is the gaping hole in your chest, the knot your stomach has wound its way into. The sound of James’ truck door slamming an echo in the back of your head.

The crowd is silent, and your programme music starts. Four minutes. You only need to make it four minutes. Four minutes until you can walk away and spend the summer wallowing. Four minutes that hang over you like a heavy weight.

You know this routine like the back of your hand. You’ve practiced it so much you could do it in your sleep. Spins, jumps, twists. Every one of them brings a different memory. James picking you up off of your ass, frustrated and angry, sending you back to try again with encouraging words and an even more encouraging kiss. He’d cheer when you landed and buy you chocolate cake on the way home.

The music is loud and overwhelming. It grates on your skin. Images of James, of your happiest moments, of everything you lost – they spin and jump along with you. Heavy as the rain that soaked you on the twenty-minute walk back to your apartment that night. It hurts too much, burns too hot.

Pince likes to say that careers can end in a split second. You know well that they can. All it takes is a bad jump, a distraction. You’ve seen it happen. Countless young athletes losing their careers over one bad move. One fracture, one broken bone, one chip on the ice. One second and it’s all gone.

One second and you’re on the ice.

One second and the resounding crack of bone slices through the crowd.

One second and the lights have gone up.

One second and your entire life leading up to this moment flashes before your eyes.

One second and the world stops.

One second before the shattered sob leaves your throat and it all goes black.

Your ankle clicks and crunches when you roll it. It’s uncomfortable, but not sore – and as much as you hate to admit it, Pomfrey is right; that’s progress. Your toe touches the ground, your calf burns, your ankle hits a breaking point. With a wince, you straighten it, repeat the motion. The stretch room off the back of the rink is empty this early in the morning. The hockey team doesn’t come in for practice for another two hours, the ice is fresh, and as soon as the feeling comes back to the ball of your ankle, you’re going to make use of the free time.

With a breath, you pull your leg up, run the edge of your nail along the skin of your scar. There’s no feeling against the skin, there. It comes and goes, the numbness. Your doctor’s say it’s a side effect of the surgery, the damage to the nerve endings, the pins, the screws. Your finger trails a pattern up your leg, back down, over the ragged ridges of the marred skin. It’s starting to feel normal, the ways you need to live your life. Stretches every day, physical rehabilitation, being barely able to wear heels, mobility, and flexibility issues. Lily likes to joke that you’re a walking-talking-live version of the Met Office. The change in weather is, admittedly, easier to assume with the metal work in your ankle.

It’s been hard – rehabilitating. It’s been sore and scary, and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. Remus talks, often, about the limitations that his condition puts on his career. It’s nice, in a twisted sort of way, to have someone who knows your pain. In comparison, your pain is a nick on Remus’ radar. His pain is chronic, his bones brittle and damaged. His career will be short lived – but, you know without a doubt that his time in the NHL will be legendary, regardless.

The feeling comes back slowly, to the slow rhythm of your finger tracing up and down. You stand, after a while, and reach for your skate bag. You don’t bother with shoes, socked feet padding against the rubber flooring all the way down to the team box. To your surprise, the ice is populated when you get to the plastic door into the benched area. Sirius and Remus are skating laps around the ice, passing a puck back and forth. They don’t have their kit on, just joggers and their team sweatshirts. James is in the same attire, socked feet kicked up on the bottle shelf beneath the boards. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, hood over his hair. Stray, dark strands of chocolate brown curling out the sides. He looks tired. Exhausted, even.

His eyes follow Remus and Sirius around the rink, ever the dutiful, attentive captain. You know there’s millions of play ideas running through his head, critiques on players that aren’t even in James’ eyesight. It’s astounding, though you hate to admit it, how good of a leader James is.

“You’re all here early.” You say, setting your skate bag beside James on the metal bench.

Your ex startles, eyes wide behind his glasses when he looks over. It’s odd, to think over the Summer he’s somehow forgotten to remember your schedule. He used to know it off by heart. You skate every Saturday morning before the hockey team starts their practice. Realisation crosses his features, like the ghost of a past life passing through his eyes. “Shit, I’ll pull them off. Sorry.” James apologises, pulling his feet from the shelf and sitting forward like he’s getting ready to call Sirius and Remus in.

“No, it’s fine. I’m cool as long as they are.” You take a seat, unzipping your skate bag.

James nods, swallows. The silence is thick, almost suffocating. There’s no flirty conversation, no teasing, no kind words of encouragement. Things have changed. As much as James promised they wouldn’t – they have. It has a lot to do with how things ended, you suppose. As long as you were together, you’d always thought it’d be your careers, the distance, that split you up. Your ex-boyfriend places his feet on the rubber mats below the bench, bounces his legs. “They’ll stay out of your way, just watch out for stray pucks.”

“Got it. You okay?” You ask as you sit down to tie your skates. “You look exhausted.”

James’ hazel eyes follow Sirius and Remus around the rink. You don’t think they’ve noticed your presence, yet. Content in their own world. “Yeah. All good.”

It’s a lie. You both know it. But you’re not the person James is going to talk to about that, anymore. You don’t have a response for him, so you take your skate guards off and leave him to stew in the box. The air is cold against your face, a pleasant feeling. Sirius and Remus have scratched the ice a little with their skates and sticks, but it’ll be fine. They hear your blades scratching the closer you get, turn to you as you approach.

“Hey, I just want to run my routine a couple times before tomorrow. I’ll try stay out of your way.” You tell them.

Sirius’ eyes flick to James almost protectively, like he’s checking his captain, his best friend, is aware of your presence. Since you and James broke up, you haven’t heard much from Sirius. It’s not that he’s picking sides – though, you wouldn’t blame him for picking James. What they have is unique. They’re bonded. But it hurts a little. Stings, because there was a time where Sirius was one of your best friends. You’d all been close. It feels now, like Lily and Remus are the only ones who make an effort.

“You have practice tonight, your ankle going to be okay?” Remus asks, pushing the puck back and forth absentmindedly.

“How’s your knee?” You deflect.

Remus bites back a grin and scoffs good naturedly, but Sirius’ eyes fly down to Remus’ knee as though he’ll be able to see through layers of clothes and skin, right down to the muscle. He looks almost panicked. Then, he looks back up, icy blues lit with a fire you’ve never been on the receiving end of. “He’s fine.”

“Relax, Sirius. I know he is.” Your eyes burn, a little, “I’ll try stay out of your way.”

Remus mutters something to Sirius – likely chastising him. You’re on the other side of the rink, pretending not to care, so you don’t hear it.

They stay out of your way for the majority of your ice time. Only one stray puck gets in your way, and James calls out in a panic when you almost land on it. Instead, you miss a jump and shout a shaky thanks as you clamber back to your feet on the ice. He stays firmly in the box – making you wonder why he even bothered to come to the ice this morning, at all. Not that it’s any of your business. Remus and Sirius run drills on one half of the ice whilst you weave in and around them. It’s not until you’re on your last run through that your foot goes numb. It’s quick, instant. You land on your ankle, there’s no feeling there, your leg buckles.

You hit the ice with a nasty amount of noise. Skates scraping and clashing, a whoosh of pained air. Your hip hurts, a searing pain that you already know will need to be iced. It takes a minute to gather your surroundings, turning until you’re sitting up. “Jesus,” You mutter, angry. It feels like this will never end – the numbness, the frustration, falling. It’s been months of your ankle going numb mid practice. Months of falling on your ass. “Fuck!”

Remus is at your side in an instant, Sirius close behind him. “Okay, up. Up, C’mon.”

You know you can’t get up, but you refuse to admit why. No one knows. Not even Pomfrey, not even Pince. You can’t run the risk of needing a surgery to fix the nerve endings. Can’t risk having to sit this season out. “Remus, give me a minute.”

“No, the longer you sit there, the less likely you’re going to go again. Up. Now.” Your best friend holds his hand out.

He’s just trying to help. But there’s anger simmering in your chest. Hot and raw and you want to lash out. For the first time, you think you understand why Remus is the way he is. So, you look at him, really, truly look at him and you think he understands. James crouches in front of you, eyes brimming with concern. You hate how much relief the sight of him brings you. Remus turns and drags Sirius off. They go back to their own corner of the ice. Your eyes well with tears.

“What’s goin’ on?” James asks.

His hands rest on the skate covering your bad ankle. You can’t feel them. The thought panics you because what if? What if one day, the feeling never comes back and it’s too late? James notices the fear in your eyes, his finger reaches up to press into your calf and you flinch. A look of understanding passes across his features, brows scrunching and dipping in the middle. “No one knows?”

“No one can know.”

James looks like he disagrees, but he nods. “I’ll bare your weight to get you up. Feet flat or Remus will notice, but weight bare on your good ankle.”

He doesn’t have to do this. He shouldn’t care. It’s not his role, anymore. But you nod, regardless. Even if the idea of him helping you lights a furious rage inside of you because how dare he act like he gives a shit now? You need to get off the ice, though. So you give him both of your hands, left blade flat on the ice as he pulls you up. Your hip screams at you, but you ignore it in favour of James’ socked feet. He’s run out onto the ice without shoes on.

“You’re going to get frost-bite.” You murmur, eyes flicking up to find his already on you.

He looks sad. Nostalgic, maybe. “Worth it.”

Your heart cracks open in your chest as you let James lead you off of the ice, all the while praying he doesn’t go full James and snitch on you to Pince, thinking he’s doing you some sort of favour. You have it under control. You’re dealing with it.

Maybe just not as well as you’d originally thought.

Regulus –

Barty is lying, rather annoyingly, half on Regulus’ legs and half on the bed. But he won’t ask Barty to move. As much as a distraction he’s made himself, Regulus finds he quite enjoys the idea that Barty wants to be this close to him. The sketch book on his lap stares up at him tauntingly. There’s half-finished scribbles of planets and stars; none of which Regulus has the energy to perfect. He does, however, have a strong notion to draw the way Barty’s body is curling around his legs. Regulus isn’t sure how to feel about that, so he ignores it; because if he thinks too much about it, he’ll start to push Barty away.

He’s aware that this isn’t going to last. Just like he’s aware that after his thesis paper is published, he’ll be returning to Grimmauld Place. Taking over Black Industries is probably at the bottom of the list of things Regulus wants to do with his life. But the thing about Barty Crouch is that he’s persuasive. He’s irresistible, as Regulus has come to realise. It’s more than just his regal looking cheek bones and sinful smile, his toned body, and tattoos that make Regulus more inspired to draw than he ever has; if only to one day see one of his drawings on Barty’s pale skin – it’s also his carefree attitude, his rebellious nature, and the big, bold, ‘fuck you’ middle finger he holds up to the world that makes Regulus want to get wrapped up in him and never get free.

He wishes he could keep Barty, but he can’t. So, he won’t draw him. For now, he’ll enjoy his rebellious streak brought about by the sarcastic, smart mouth, piece of shit guy he met in the art supply store in the spring and worry about the calendar counting down his return to Grimmauld place later.

Admitting defeat, Regulus places his sketchbook and pencil on his bedside table. Barty stirs at the movement, head straining to look at Regulus with a devious grin. He threads his fingers through the soft strands of Barty’s inky black hair and smiles softly. It’s obvious his smile isn’t believable, because Barty huffs, pushes himself up until he’s straddling Regulus’ hips. He’s not in the mood for whatever Barty is about to initiate, but Barty seems to notice that because his eyes soften. “What’s on your mind?”

Regulus studies Barty. He really is very beautiful. He’d be easy to draw. The itch is there. But he can’t. So, he won’t. “I was thinking that I can’t focus when you’re lounging over me like a stray cat.” It’s obvious in his voice that it’s a lie. But the good thing about Barty is that he doesn’t push Regulus to talk when he clearly doesn’t want to.

“We both know that you’re the cat, in this relationship, Regulus. You’re all claws and uptight attitude.” The boy on top of Regulus quips, a smile that tells Regulus he’s rather pleased with himself.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not all claws.” Because Regulus knows he’s uptight.

Barty grins. It’s charming and knowing, practically dripping with sin. He reaches for the neckline of his t-shirt; acts like he’s going to pull it upward. “Should we look at my back?”

Regulus holds the hem around Barty’s waist and tugs, scowling. “No, let’s not.”

Barty laughs, collapsing on top of Regulus. He enjoys the weight, presses his fingers into his shoulder blades because he knows he likes rough touches. Gentle touches make him jumpy. He listens to Barty laugh for a while, enjoys the sound of it vibrating against the skin of his neck. He stares at the ceiling and wonders if he should tell Barty that one of the reasons he’s struggling to draw is probably because his estranged brother has cropped his ugly head up.

Barty is good with advice. Mainly because the majority of his advice is to get high and ignore all of your problems. His mother would pitch a fit if she knew all the shit Regulus was getting up to, these days. She calls once a week, always short and curt. It’s more of a call to make sure Regulus is behaving, than to check in on how he’s actually doing. He’s not sure what he’s going to tell her when she asks who his student assistant ended up being. If she knew, she’d likely pull him out of university all together and ban him from leaving the house ever again. Not that he had any choice in who it was.

“Sirius is my student assistant.” He breathes out, the admittance bringing a hollow ache to his chest.

He doesn’t talk much about Sirius. Mainly because it hurts, leaves a bitter taste in his mouth that as much as he tried, nothing was ever good enough for his older brother. Not enough to make him stay. And Regulus knows that expecting Sirius to stay was unfair – maybe it’s more to do with the idea that he left him there. Scared, alone. Baring the crown that Sirius found too heavy. Barty lifts his head until his eyes meet Regulus’. Reading, trying to gage how he should treat this. He’s not sure if he wants Barty to get him high and help him say fuck you to his problems, or if he wants him to offer to kick the shit out of Sirius.

“Okay. Go on.” Barty urges, fingers tracing Regulus’ collar bones.

The feeling grounds him as he huffs and closes his eyes. Thinking. Trying to sort through his emotions because, really, he’s not sure how he feels about it.

“He said I’m just like our father. I was a dick to him.”

Barty smiles sadly. “You were surprised to see him.”

“I knew I’d see him, eventually. I mean, I’ve done a good job of avoiding him. But I thought, maybe naively, when I came to Hogwarts that maybe there’d be a chance he’d want to explain. But he didn’t. He just looked at me with pure hatred and stormed off into the stacks.” It sounds childish, the way Regulus’ voice takes on a petulant whine.

But Barty nods, like he understands. He doesn’t. He doesn’t have siblings, but he does have an uncomfortable family situation. So, he’s sympathetic, at least. “Maybe he’s scared to apologise because he thinks you won’t hear him.” Barty offers.

“Maybe. Or maybe he’s just an asshole.”

The other boy scoffs amusedly, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, maybe.”

“You think he’d want me to be a part of his life? If I could forgive him.” Regulus asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

Barty presses his lips to Regulus’. It’s soft, caring. Rare, for them. “I dunno Sirius. I’ve never met him. But I do know that anyone who doesn’t want a part of you in their life is a fucking idiot. And you don’t need another idiot in your life. You already have me.”

He likes that answer, so he kisses Barty until they’re both a mess of tangled limbs and swollen lips. Until it turns out that there’s other ways to forget his problems. And all of them suddenly have a lot to do with Barty Crouch.

James –

He’s pacing. He knows he’s pacing, and he knows that his footsteps are clunking against the wooden floorboards, and that Remus will likely lose his mind if he continues. But James can’t stop. It’s how he thinks, how he processes. Years of thinking on his feet, of having to have a mind as sharp as a tack, having to move whilst processing a hundred different outcomes. The only outcome he can think of right now is you hating him even more than you already do when he inevitably goes to Pince and tells her that your ankle isn’t properly healed.

He did the necessary reading to conclude that prolonged numbness is definitely not a normal side effect of having a reconstructive surgery. A temporary side effect, yes. But it’s been months since your surgery. That’s not a good sign, according to a very reliable source (if you count Reddit as a reliable source; James isn’t sure if he does). And he knows he’s catastrophising. He’s prone to it. But he’s worried. And wouldn’t he rather you hate him that little bit more and eventually be able to get back on the ice next year (after another surgery, Reddit had confirmed) than risk it all now and never skate again? James doesn’t feel qualified to make that decision. He hasn’t been a captain long, and even then, it’s not like he’s in charge of people’s livelihoods. He wouldn’t have taken the job if that was the case.

James knows how much Nationals means for you – it’s the gateway to the World Championships, to the Olympics. He cost you that last year, and he hates himself for it. Is he really willing to do that to you again? He’s not sure. So, he paces. He loses count of how many times he picks up his phone and almost hits the green call button next to your name. He’s not even sure you’d answer, even less sure of what he’d say to you if, by some miracle, you answered. ‘I think you should miss out on Nationals again, this year, have another risky surgery and hope for the best. Okay, bye!’ doesn’t exactly seem like a good plan to him.

Remus is the embodiment of exhaustion when he pushes James’ bedroom door open and leans against the frame like a parent ready to chastise their hyper-active child. James cringes. Remus needs all the rest he can get. Between hospital appointments, hockey, and his classes, he never stops. “Sorry. I’ll try be quieter.” His voice comes out rushed and anxious, an alarm bell sounding off to alert Remus of his worry.

The taller boy tilts his head and studies James. Sometimes, he loves how perceptive Remus can be. It helps offence, and it generally means that he’s a better friend. But now, he shifts awkwardly because for the second time in the space of a year, he’s keeping a secret from his best friend. He hates lying to Remus. But your words play on a loop in his head. No one can know. You’d been so scared. Terrified, even, at the idea of everything you’ve worked for over the summer being ripped away from you. Call James selfish, but he doesn’t particularly want to be the one to do it. Even though he knows he should because it will be better in the long run.

“Or” Remus suggests, “You could stop pacing and tell me what’s going on with Y/N.”

James opens his mouth. Subsequently closes it because he doesn’t know what to say. He won’t betray your trust. He hates lying to Remus. But he knows, ultimately, if he really doesn’t want to talk about it, his best friend won’t push him.

He feels himself shrug, his best attempt at feigning nonchalance. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Remus’ honey eyes read like a book. He knows James is lying, scrutinising him whilst simultaneously trying to figure out why he’s lying for you. As far as Remus knows he’s on bad terms with you. And technically, that’s true. But James would give anything to fix that. He just hasn’t figured out how, yet.

“You know,” Remus pushes off the door frame, ever the one for imparting wisdom in the most dramatic of ways and pushes his hands into his pockets. “If I didn’t know well enough, I’d say you’re trying to decide her future for her. I can tell you right now, that won’t end well. Whatever it is she’s hiding, I’ve been there. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but one she has to do on her own.

“Don’t make her hate you any more than she does now, James. I’m still rooting for you.”

“You know?” James asks, throat dry.

“About the numbness or you cheating on her?” Remus asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he leaves James standing, alone, in the middle of his room with a sinking feeling that he’s let everyone down.

He’s not sure how Remus knows. Maybe you told him even though you’d told James you weren’t going to tell anyone.

An amicable breakup, you’d suggested. It’ll save us both the embarrassment.

He hates himself. Hates himself for all of the things he wishes he’d sat you down and forced you to listen to over the summer. Hates that he didn’t fight for you more. There’s so much you don’t know. So much you don’t want to hear. So much James wishes he’d done differently. Starting with how he wishes he’d run out onto the ice, consequences be damned, the minute he saw you land on your ankle, the minute he heard you sobbing in pain. He wishes he hadn’t walked away, feeling sorry for himself that he’d ripped Nationals from you. That, despite how hard he’d tried, he’d still failed you.

And he hates even more that he even considered doing it for a second time.

James sits on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, and he decides there and then that he’s not going to tell Pince. But he is, even if you fight him every step of the way, going to find a way to fix this for you. You’ll have a chance at Nationals if it’s the last thing James does.

And it starts with a call to Euphemia Potter.

[godhandler]

Tokyo Day 

| s. geto x reader, mentions of n. zenin x reader, infidelity, angst, fluff ending, geto is an unstable maniac in love as he was created to be, porn with serious plot, 2k words, part 4 | FIN.

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“A younger you would’ve spat in your face if she saw you now.”

The plates stacked neatly outside your suite door, you and Suguru sit in the tub, him scrubbing your back. Warm lavender-scented water lap at your natural nakedness. The designer of this Modern Japanese suite must have been anything but Japanese, you muse. Why else would they set the ¥ 142,500 bathroom walls to mimic cheap public baths? 

These two things are polar apart. They could never be the same. One holds dignity, pride, excellence, and the other is like you. 

You wonder what Suguru means by his words. No question, you were beaten down by life. White ashes, leftovers of the blazing hurricane you were a decade ago. Was that the crime your former self would detest you for? It wasn’t like you planned to lose yourself, it just happened because that’s how life played out. 

You imagine a freckle-faced 15 year old questioning you– Why don’t you get a sorcerer job and become independent? 

Naobito would never let you see your son again then. 

Then why did you even have a kid?

It wasn’t your choice. Naobito wanted a kid. 

Why did you marry that jackass? 

Mom needed money and you couldn’t get a job. 

She’d just be confused, you think. You used to get so mad when adults told you things like – ‘oh you’re too young, you won’t get it’, but now you think they were right. To some degree. You’d understand, sure. But you hadn’t suffered enough to empathise. 

Why don’t you kill yourself?

My son. 

“Earth to the lady.” He massages your soapy neck, thumbs pressing into the right parts that hurt the most. Foam catches onto your locket. 

“A younger Suguru would’ve set his dragon on you if he saw you now,” you reply. No venom in your words. Just stating factual truths.

“Because we were stupid kids.” He smiles. “We were stupid kids who thought we knew everything. I thought I could have everything.” He leans down to kiss your neck from behind you. “I thought I could have you.”

Lost glory, tears turn your eyes cloudy. “Have me.” 

The spot where his lips touched your skin burns even after he washes all the soap off. 

You sit on the edge of the tub, Suguru towelling your feet dry on the heated floor. “My body’s not like it used to be,” you tell him, an apology in your tone that he frowns at. “After the pregnancy, I mean. I envy men. You look just as good as you did back then, even better, if anything.”  

“You look perfect, darling. I have scars too.” 

“And abs.” 

“Pardon me for having abs,” he grins, pressing kisses to your foot. “How could I ever make up for the crime of having abs?” 

You kick him lightly in jest, but he simply grabs your heel and kisses your calf instead. “You look like a mother should. Why is that bad? We’re not kids anymore. I’m happy that you lived a life and your body shows it. I just-” he kisses your knee. “- wish that you lived it with me.” 

“I wish he was yours,” you confess, sighing as Suguru parts your knees and buries his face in there. “My son. You should’ve been the father. Should’ve been my husband, my groom at the altar.” 

“Tell me more.” He briefly comes up for air before resuming his work. Master of your body, he draws his skill from both an archive of memories he hasn’t used in a decade and natural instinct that just knows. Soul-mate. 

You keen from divine pleasure, Suguru feasting on the taste of you to his heart’s content. You can feel his rock hard cock pressing against your leg. “We could do our hair similarly. I always thought lilies would go so well in your hair bun. We’ll wear cream white and ivory with just a hint of gold.” 

“How about a spring wedding? We’ll get a venue filled with cherry blossom trees.” 

“Yes! Ah-” Soft bathroom lighting catches on the edge of his jaw as he sucks on your clitoris, two fingers curled deep inside you. Searching around for that sweet spot… here or here or here– found it. “-Oh, Suguru!” 

“Keep talking,” he orders. “Darling.”

You gasp in between each word, trying to think of anything other than the burning pleasure flooding through you. “All- ah- our friends would be in attendance. Too much, oh, Suguru! Sigh- Nanako and Mimiko could be the ring bearers, Naosuke the flower boy.” 

His grasp on your waist is so tight, his nails mark your skin into little crescents. “I want another in your belly by that time.” He promises, “Have you pregnant under your pretty pretty wedding dress. Mark you mine.” 

Suguru cannot stop smiling like a fool when you grab the back of his head and hump your orgasm out on his face. 

“Wanna be mine so bad, darling?” His taunting words so unlike his gentle kisses as he carries you to the bedroom, his tongue still warm from the depths of your sweet cunt. You can’t help but moan. “Want to have my kids? Be with me forever?”

He places you into the bed soft as the most precious crystal in the world that he’s finally got his hand on after with much cost and yearning. His. You’re his. 

“I’ve been faithful, Suguru.” The diamond between your collarbones could almost trick him into thinking it’s true. Naobito Zenin’s wedding ring, chucked out of sight under furniture, still exists in the same reality as you two. Not that either of you were thinking about it. “Always been yours.”

Suguru kisses you over and over again, buried in your arms as he smooths your hair away from your face with his large hand. Sunk in you, surrounded by pillow fluff and warm blankets. The bedsheet is soft uncrinkled silk, made to be enjoyed sex on. It feels like he’s been out travelling the world for a decade and is just one step away from entering home. 

He thinks that you mouth ‘I love you’ before your face scrunches up through the sting of penetration. So pretty, so perfect, all his now. 

“I love you more,” a whisper that drowns under your cry as he pushes fully inside you. Snug fit, flesh made for each other. 

He can’t not bring up your husband, no matter how much it’ll hurt you. “Does he feel like me?” He thrusts harder, your eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. “Tell me, darling, does he?”

“He’s busy with his whores, thank fuck.” You reply, lightly pulling his hair to punish his unfounded jealousy. “At my luckiest, I see him once a month.” 

“I’ll kill him, I swear on your life.” 

“I would’ve done that myself if not for Naosuke. Besides, I’ve kept you with me.” 

It must be some telepathic connection because he immediately understands what you mean. It was a gag gift from Satoru 13 years ago when you had first started dating. A clone-your-penis kit, where you poured black silicone into a mould of Suguru’s dick and created your own homemade dildo. You used to hit Suguru on the head with it back then. 

“The scandal,” Suguru grins, “The Head Lady Zenin fucking herself on a silicone cock of her former lover. Did you enjoy that, darling? Cucking that old man? If you missed me that much, you should’ve just come to me.” He kisses you again, his rhythm messing up as he gets closer to finishing. “I keep waiting for you to come.” 

“Don’t pull out.” You tell him. 

“Of course not.” He replies. He doesn’t. 

Wrapped up in his arms, his full weight pressing you down, you pray that it takes. You pray so hard. You don’t know if you’ll see him again. The very thought of having to go back to your real life now, to put on the ring and hide the locket under your blouse, to serve dinner to the husband waiting back home and lay under him at night– the very thought makes you want to drown yourself in the bathtub. 

Again came the question you could not answer: what was your original sin? That at the critical juncture, what was the wrong choice– to run to the arms of a genocidal maniac or to meekly submit to the socially correct match?

Why, when you picked the right option 10 years ago, are you this miserable?

“Will you come?” He laughs stupidly at his own pun, all strength sapped out for the time being. “Seriously, will you?”

“Will you come, Suguru? Could you leave it all behind? Just run away with me, love and honour me?” You ask, “Marry me?”

Kitten-like, Suguru softly squeezed a breast, thinking. How could he love and honour you if he didn’t even love and honour himself? And how could he love and honour himself if he willingly chose to not be himself? Close his eyes and turn his back to the duty he was put on Earth to do? Accept defeat? Be weak?

No. you both knew that. No. At the end, it came out a no. 

But– “I could marry you.” He decided. The kind of decision that only the strong are allowed to take. “Who could stop me? I want you. I want to have you.”

“My son, he–”

“I would raise him as my own. I’d give him my name– Geto. Both of you will be mine. Our son, our daughters. How does that sound?” Rhetorical question, because Suguru has already decided that it sounds exactly like what he wants. 

“His birthday is soon, right, darling? We’ll have his renaming ceremony together as well. Wonder what technique he’ll have? Ha- the Zenins would only waste him, better off that I train him myself.” 

“Suguru, it’s too fast, I think.”

“I don’t.” 

He waits for you to debate him. You weren’t blind to his wrongdoings. You couldn’t even read the report from his last mission without vomiting from the pictures of the devastation he caused. Rotting bones, half-charred people, a whole village burnt off the map. And yet–

“Was I wrong? Darling, look me in the eye and tell me that I was wrong, that my logic or actions do not make sense, and I swear on your life that I will give it all up.” 

“... Your morals are wrong.”

“But am I wrong?” 

Is he? Is this the wrong decision? You’ve already made one in the past, but that was actually the right one which turned out to be wrong. Hell, is there even anything like a right or wrong decision? 

“No.” 

Suguru cleans you both up. After a quick cuddled-up nap and a light sashimi filler, you had to part. He was travelling back with his daughters and you could not stay the night without your son, who would cry and cry till he saw you. 

He walks you back to your Volvo, a spring in his step. He’s accomplished a lot before dinner today. “In case the cuck bothers you,” he nods to the detestful ring back on your finger, “kill this little bug-curse I’ve planted in your locket. I’ll know, and I’ll be right there before you blink an eye. Though I don’t doubt you can handle yourself.” 

Suguru opens the car door for you, kissing you a long goodbye right in front of the Zenin servants. Not that they dare flicker a glance at your direction, what with the leech-curse still wrapped around the car till Suguru called it back. “Remember our promise, guys?” He reminds them cheerfully. 

“Get home safe, darling. Bye-bye!” 

He’s still waving to your car disappearing into the distance when his own car reaches. “Woahhh– Mimiko, look, Geto-sama’s face is all red and happy!”

“Thanks for getting us the canvases, Geto-sama. Nanako, isn’t it obvious, he’s having hot flushes. Because he’s old.” 

“Thanks, Mimiko.” He replies, good mood unbroken by teenage girls. “How was the school trip? How did you like Tokyo?”

“It was okay. We just went to see shrines, like we don’t have more than enough of them in Kyoto,” Nanako replied. Mimiko was pulling out the cute plushies she bought to show him. “You lived here back when you were young, right? What about you, Geto-sama, did you have a good day?” 

“Oh,” he smiles, hugging his daughters to him. “Just the best.”

As they set off for home, Manami driving again and the girls asleep after their long day, Geto Suguru, victor of the day, taps on his iPhone: 

text when you reach 

see you tmr 

I love you 

previous series masterlist

[redroomwidows]

OKIE DOKES SO WHAT ABOUT THE MARAUDERS (AND READER) ALL BEING SINGLE ONE VALENTINE’S DAY, AND DECIDE TO HAVE A ‘GALENTINES/PALENTINES’ TYPE NIGHT - EITHER GOING OUT OR MAKING DINNER ETC AND THEN THE REALISATION AT THE END THAT IT WASNT ENTIRELY PLATONIC

notes: yes yes, yes and more yes!!! I accidentally just started writing with a fem reader. i’m sure there was a more poetic way to write this but i didn’t take that route lol.

warnings: second person, twister, kissing, my first time writing poly marauders.

Poly! Marauders/ Moonstarchaser x fem!reader

——-&——-

It was Valentine’s day, and by some curse (or miracle), you were all single. Peter and his girlfriend were away for the weekend, and you’d tried to have a Galentines, but all your female friends had partners - Screw Marlene and Dorcas, Alice and Frank and Lily with her hot scientist boyfriend.

“Sweet or Salty?” Sirius enters James’ flat with a cheeky grin, holding up Tesco bags.

“Sweet!” you glare

Galentines had turned to ‘Palentines’ and you all had plans to eat dinner, play a board game and then watch a rom com - James had already downloaded ‘How to Loose a Guy in 10 days’.

“Padfoot,” Remus says in a stern tone from the kitchen “Don’t tease her,”

“Yeah Pads,” James appears out of practically thin air, slamming himself down on the sofa next to you, his arm wrapping around you “Don’t tease her,”

Sirius sticks his tongue out and ruffles both of your heads before he goes to harass Remus.

“You okay pretty girl?” James asks gently and you nod

“Tired,”

“Tired?” he gasps “How will you keep up during Twister?” you groan “What’s wrong with Twister?”

“You’re always using it as an excuse to touch Remus up,”

“To be fair,” The man appears “Last time I started it,”

“You two never take it seriously,” you pout and Sirius whines behind you

“I know, we’ll have to do teams,” his hands find James' shoulders “Moony, when’s dinner?”

“Two minutes closer than when you last asked me,”

You snort and lean your head on James’s shoulder, letting Sirius rake his hands through your hair.

Eventually, dinner is served and you’re all sat at James rickety dining table, candles lit as James had made a point of saying “It’s Valentines day! Candles are romantic,” and halfway through dinner he also accused Sirius of playing footsie with him.

Well ‘acused’, he definitely was doing it because when his leg found your calf you’d kicked him hard enough to cause a bruise. During twister he’d also ended up under Remus, placing a kiss on his nose to distract him.

You think about these moments as you sit in between James and Remus, Sirius between your legs on the floor. You four had always been friends, but you haden’t always been like this, it started when you finished school, when you spent more time together.

When asked if you had a boyfriend while out drinking, Lily liked to say that you had three.

“Guys?” you say softly and Remus pauses the tv, recognising your tone “Are we-are we more than just friends?”

“what do you mean doll?” Sirius sits up and turns around to face you and you grow nervous, James wraps an arm around your waist and Remus and Sirius each grab a hand.

“We -“ you can’t describe it “Well, we don’t act the same around eachother as we do around Peter,”

“Cos that would be weird,”

“I know,” you sigh “I think…I don’t know. I think to want to kiss you all, and i think you probably want to kiss each other ,”

Their eyes widen at this, not because it’s not true, but because they didn’t think you’d be the first to admit it.

“Yeah,” James nods “I think that’s true,” and with that, his lips are on yours, and Sirius is calling bagsy to be next - you’re not sure who he was talking to, at least Remus was patient, kissing your hand delicately.

[moonstruckme]

Your work has been a great source of joy and relief to me (at last after a day of shitty circumstance i get to thrive in my free time with your witing) and i just want to thank you for that...💗💗💗

But i do also wanna request a jealous reader to james or remus, I'm genuinely curious as to how they'll handle that and what will they do to satiate reader

Thank you, sweetheart! Love you <3

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 2.1k words

James looks especially sightly today, his brown skin gleaming in the sun and hair stuck slick to his forehead. He’s shirtless, which is always a treat, muscled abdomen sometimes distorted beneath the pool water and sometimes slipping above, inadvertently teasing, and his shoulders look especially strapping with Lily’s pale thighs seated atop them. 

You really like Lily. You’re quite disappointed in yourself, actually, for the hot flash of malice that goes through you when she burrows her manicured fingers in your boyfriend’s hair, laughing about losing her balance. James moves his grip from her knees up to her thighs, promising he’s got her. Something foul and warmish curdles in your gut. 

On the other side of the pool, Sirius and Remus advance like a totem pole with two wildly different faces, one menacing and the other reluctant. They’d asked if you wanted to play chicken, but getting pushed and shoved by Sirius isn’t your idea of a good time. You figured you’d be more content here, sitting on the edge of the pool with your feet kicking idly in the cool water, but now you can see how it does sort of look like a couples activity, Sirius atop Remus’ shoulders and Lily on James’. It’s no secret that James had pined after Lily for years. It was back in their school days, before you met him, but it’s been brought up a few times in a teasing way that’s made it clear to you that everyone knew how he felt about her. You wonder if Lily ever thinks about it. If she’s assured, consciously or not, that she could have him back at any time of her choosing. It’s not something you love to dwell upon. 

The pairs are fairly evenly matched. Sirius fights dirty, splashing water up at Lily and trying to unhook one of her knees from around James’ shoulder, but Remus can’t be bothered to participate and looks like he’d be just as happy to be pushed over and call it done. Lily, meanwhile, isn’t as creative a fighter and is only shoving at Sirius’ shoulders, but James provides a strong base. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her legs, calling up encouragements and occasionally freeing a hand to pinch upwards at Sirius’ side. Sirius shrieks and swears at this, claiming that it’s against the rules. Eventually, Remus gets tired of supporting his boyfriend’s weight and feigns a fall back into the water. Sirius squawks as he goes down, and Lily and James cheer and high-five before he helps her dismount with far more grace. 

You clap and smile like a good girlfriend. James beams as he swims over to you. Sometimes looking at James’ smile at full capacity is a bit like looking at the sun, and you feel like you need some special glasses to gaze directly at it. This is one of those times. 

He takes your calf in his big hand and leans his cool cheek on your warm knee and makes you feel like the most special girl in the world, and you can’t stop thinking that Lily probably knows this exact feeling. 

You make extra sure to be nice to Lily on your way out later that evening, guilty and vexed with yourself for the way you’ve been thinking about her. James waves a friendly goodbye to the group as you both step outside. 

Instantly, his arm is around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. James was prepared for the nighttime chill, pulling a sweatshirt out of his bag as soon as the sun set, whereas you’re in a tank top and shorts that have grown damp from your swimsuit. You lean into him gratefully. 

“Did you have a good time today?” he asks.

“Mhm.” 

“Yeah?” He tilts his head a bit, looking down at your face. “You seemed a bit off.” 

You shrug. You should have expected James would notice. “I guess I just wished I’d participated more.” 

He makes a contemplative humming sound. “You don’t mean that you think people didn’t want you to participate, right? They love you, angel, you know that.” 

“No, I…” You want to say I know, but you’re worried you’ll sound conceited. You never usually second-guess yourself like this around James. You sort of hate it. “I just didn’t realize that if I said no to playing chicken, Lily was going to be your partner instead.” 

He’s quiet for a second. Something in your gut twists uneasily. 

“I thought you liked Lily.” 

“I do.” 

“Are you jealous?” 

“No.” 

You answer without thinking, because whatever you might be feeling right now, you are not a jealous person. You won’t be that kind of girlfriend. The breeze picks up, and goosebumps prickle down your arms, making you shiver.

“Are you cold?” James asks. 

You know he’s going to want to give you his sweatshirt, and you really can’t be taking things from him right now. “I’m alright.” 

“You know you’ve got nothing to worry about with Lily,” he tells you, thumb brushing softly over the skin of your bare shoulder. It should be reassuring, but suddenly you’re thinking about how this same hand looked so comfortable wrapped around Lily’s thigh. You step out from under his arm, crossing your arms as casually as you can against the chill. 

“I’m not worried,” you reply. 

James looks perplexed, and also a little dubious. The thought of him not believing you, even if you are lying, fills you with a burning indignation. 

“I just don’t see why you had to be touching her so much,” you say. “You could’ve looked a bit less eager.” 

He actually laughs at that, but the look on your face stops him quickly. “Sorry, but did you really think I looked eager?” he asks, a little smile still teasing the corners of his lips like you’re a child he has to talk down from a fit. “That’s just part of the game, sweetheart.” 

The way he says it, sweetheart, suddenly feels less affectionate and more like a placation. Condescending. Heat builds behind your eyes, and you realize with horror that you feel like you might actually cry. You’ve never felt so distant from James. Not even when you’d first started dating. 

You pick up your pace, staying ahead to keep him from seeing your face. “You didn’t have to touch her legs so much,” you huff. 

“I was keeping her from falling off!” he laughs, incredulous. 

You roll your eyes. James lengthens his stride to catch up to you. 

“So let me get this straight,” he says. He sounds more serious than before, which you thought you’d wanted but now you’re not so sure. Your heart trembles. “You wanted me to throw the whole game to just avoid touching my friend’s legs?” 

“She wasn’t always your friend,” you remind him. 

“Yes, she was.”

You don’t know how to respond to that. From a factual standpoint, he’s not wrong, but you know that Lily was more than that in James’ head for quite some time. He can’t boil it down to something so simple. 

The silence stretches out between you, ice-thin and just as cold. Then you shiver again, and James sets a hand on your shoulder. It’s only there for a second before he retracts it, as if unsure what he’s allowed. Your heart throbs. 

“You are cold,” he says, and his tone is doting teetering on the brink of accusatory. He grabs the hem of his sweatshirt. “Here, have—”

“I don’t want your sweatshirt,” you say sharply. 

James pauses. “Why not?” 

“I just don’t.” 

“Sweetheart, you’re cold.” 

“So what?” You cross your arms harder, trying to hide your trembling under the guise of general agitation. “That’s not what we’re talking about.” 

“What are we talking about?” he asks you. “How I let Lily sit on my shoulders as part of a game and now I’ll surely leave you for her?” 

Even as a joke, it stings. “Would you?”

“Of course not!” His hands spread out in front of him, helpless. “What do you want me to do? Should I just never be friends with another girl again?” 

“No, it’s not—it’s not that.” Your eyes burn. You’re frustrated with him for intentionally missing the point, and frustrated with yourself for needing his reassurance in the first place. “I just want to know that you’d pick me over her.” 

“I have!”

“You didn’t pick, James.” Your breathing is starting to sound ragged. The words taste acidic in your mouth. “She picked for you.” 

“Angel, that was ages ago.” James softens his voice, likely hearing the tears in yours. “I don’t see her that way anymore. She was right, we wouldn’t have worked together.” 

“But how can you know that?” Your voice breaks just as a harsh shiver goes through you, and you wrap your arms more tightly around yourself. 

“Alright, that’s enough.” You don’t have to turn around to hear that James has stopped walking behind you, his footsteps halting. Reluctantly, you slow in response but don’t turn around, waiting to see what he’s doing. “Come here.” When you don’t move, his voice hardens into a tone you don’t hear often. “Come here.” 

You turn around, more curious than anything, and James has taken his sweatshirt off. He tugs it over your head before you can say anything. 

“James!” you protest, squirming, but his hold is strong. He manages to wrestle one of your arms into a sleeve before he seems to decide that’s good enough and leaves you be. 

“Quit being so stubborn,” he says, still in that same tone. You stop trying to get the sweatshirt off, hands dropping to your sides. James has never been so stern with you before. You don’t quite know how to react. “You’re freezing, and your hair’s still wet. There’s no sense in suffering through it just because you want to have a row.” 

“I don’t want to,” you tell him, but your words sound petulant even to your own ears. 

“Then listen.” He takes your jaw in hand, setting his eyes on yours. “I do not want to be in a relationship with Lily. I thought I did once, but I don’t anymore.” He waits a second, making sure this sinks in, before his voice softens. “I’m going to be friends with girls. That’s just…that’s the way I’ve always been. But I’m with you because I’m happiest with you, and this isn’t going to work if you don’t trust me.” 

You nod, suddenly flooded with self loathing. A tear skids down your face when you blink. “I’m sorry. It’s not about…I do trust you, I promise. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” 

“Honey,” James murmurs. The tear lands on his index finger, and his face pinches like it stings. “Listen, if I saw some guy with his hands all over you, I’d—”

“In a bathing suit,” you add tearfully. 

“With his hands all over you in a bathing suit,” he amends, “I’d probably be upset too. But you’ve got to tell me these things, you know? If you’d brought it up at the time, I could’ve told you I don’t feel that way about Lily and maybe you would’ve had a better afternoon.” 

“I didn’t want to be the jealous girlfriend,” you admit. “I really do like Lily, I didn’t mean to accuse either of you of anything.” 

“I think…I think some amount of jealousy has to be normal,” James says, brows bunched pensively even as his finger strokes at your cheek. “We’re each other’s, you know? It’s just letting it get in your head that’s the problem. If you’re thinking I’d pursue someone else while I’m with you, that doesn’t reflect very well on me.” 

You shake your head, leaning away from James’ hand to wipe your nose. “I don’t really. I know you’d be—you’d at least be nice about it. You’d tell me.” 

Pain etches itself into the indent between your boyfriend’s brows. He takes your face between both hands now, looking into your eyes determinedly. “I love you,” he says, bending to press a firm kiss between your brows. “Understand?” 

You wrap your arms around his middle, pushing past his face to tuck your head under his chin. “I love you too.” Your voice is ardent if a bit wobbly, tears that feel more like a reaction to a past fright than anything else still moving sluggishly down your face. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s forgiven, sweetheart.” James’ big palm comes to rest between your shaking shoulder blades, scrubbing up and down firmly. “Let’s get home, yeah?”

[grimst4rs]

lily evans who braids her friends’ hair when they’re upset. lily evans who goes on prefect patrols alone when remus is sick before the full moon. lily evans who accompanies younger muggleborns students to their classes, just to make sure nothing happens to them. lily evans who reads under the trees on the school grounds because the library is too quiet for her. lily evans who does her charms work perfectly, but whose favorite subject is potions, because it reminds her of chemistry, which used to be her favourite subject. lily evans who sneaks out through her the window of her bedroom in cokeworth to see her friends and smoke by the river. lily evans who only wears clip on earrings and who wears tartan skirts and mary jane’s paired with stockings up to the middle of her calf. lily evans who is professor slughorn’s favourite student, who always comes to the slug club meetings and talks to everyone. lily evans who is vivacious and bright and who catches the attention of everyone. lily evans who has hair down to her shoulder and bright green eyes and a beautiful smile. lovely, lovely lily evans.

[boowiij]

Happy Holidays Yall!! I hope everyone’s having a good day! I’ve finally finished the blue infinity fan art.

This is only part one btw

Lass

5’7

42 yrs old (black don’t crack🙌🏾)

Black

Ghanaian

The white & blue eyes are for her blindness

Her name means “born on a Sunday”

MORE UNDER CUT!

Michael

6’0

19 yrs old

Biracial (black & white)

Ghanaian & Scottish

Named after Captain Carmichael

When he was little he was playing with a dull axe and cut his cheek, hence the scar

1 singular dimple

Very good timber man

Has a lot in common with Lass’s brother (his uncle) who he has never meet due to the fact his uncle lives in the Dead Winds

Mira

5’6 1/2

19yrs old

Biracial (black & white)

Ghanaian & Scottish

Her name means “Ocean” and has Latin origins

1 singular dimple like her twin

EXTREMELY KIND like Disney Princess level sweet her smile could stop wars istg

She’s also a good artist when Lass was sick she drew a portrait of her so she wouldn't her mother’s face

Florian (Simon & Lily’s Son)

5’11

16 yrs old

Biracial (Black & White + Siren)

His name flowering/flourishing and has Latin,German, and Slavic origins

He is shy just like his father was at his age

Loves to star gaze

Can transform between his human and siren sides but still retains some of his siren features in his human form (EX: webbing on his ears,hands, and feet. He also has fins on his calf’s that are retractable,etc)

Very defined cheek bones

Gave him a lil bit of lip fat just cuz

Artist Note: I’m not sure how many kids Lass and Fletcher had exactly but I do plan on drawing abt 1-2 more kids for them. Ik Simon and Lily didn’t have any children so Florian is just a “what if” character