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hpsaffics · 2 months

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like mother

femslash febuary day 25- first time • Lily Evans Potter/ Euphemia Potter • 1897 words • @hpsaffics

yes this is very late but it’s still febuary so who cares !!! this one goes out to @sommerregenjuniluft bc thnx to you I can’t stop thinking about milfs 💜 (there are worse problems to have) also ive been watching a lot of gossip girl so for narrative purposes Effie in this is basically Lily Van Der Woodsen (mummy)

“Do you remember the first time you came?”

It’s warm in the kitchen, even with the window open. Early evening breeze does nothing to cool the flush spreading over Lily’s exposed chest, down her thighs.

“Hmm?” She keeps her face to the window, her back turned. It should feel vulnerable. It shouldn’t set her skin on fire. She shouldn’t feel the weight of her gaze raking over every inch of her skin with the tenderness of the softest kiss. It shouldn’t make her want to show more, to let her dress slip off her shoulder lower, to let the thin material pool at her feet.

But it did, and Lily couldn’t help that.

Mrs Potter laughs behind her, her breath tickling the back of Lily’s neck. “The first time you came here.” She clarifies. “To the house.”

Of course she did. Despite years taking chunks of her memory, that was one of the precious moments she held close, so close it’d have to be ripped from her, kicking and screaming.

But she loved a tease as much as she loved walking down memory lane with Mrs Potter, so all she gives her in reply is a sigh.

Potter’s impatience drills holes in her back. In the reflection of the window Lily could see her over her shoulder, her smooth face marred with a tiny frown. Eyes narrowed, creases hardly ever seen by anyone else crinkling the side of her mouth. If Lily looked close enough, she could even see the small dimple in her left cheek, the one that felt like a secret shared between them. The dimple that matched her son’s perfectly.

“Am I boring you?” A step closer and Lily was pinned against the sink, dishwasher dampening the front of her dress. She slid her hands under the surface, digging deep beneath the bubbles. It shouldn’t feel like she belonged there, in between Mrs Potter’s thin arms, submerged.

“You could never bore me.” Lily assures her, unable to fully quit her old habit of jumping to impress Mrs Potter every chance she got. She’s not bored, she’s not scared, she’s not going anywhere. In the mirror of the night sky Mrs Potter smiled, her nose scrunching her glasses up her face until they sat crooked. Just like her son. “I think I remember.” Her fingertips touch the bottom of the sink and she doesn’t turn around.

“You think?” Another step and Mrs Potter’s chin is on her shoulder. A slight stretch to the left and her lips would be on her neck. She does not turn around.

“I remember bringing that mac and cheese around-”

“Very generous to call it that.”

Mrs Potter’s laughter hums through her body as they're standing so close. So tempting, Lily adds her own to the chorus.

Like it was yesterday, Lily remembers the way it felt to walk into this house for the first time. Years younger, no less wise, infinitely more eager. Desperate to impress the illustrious Mrs Potter she’d never heard a bad word about. And although it was hardly her first time meeting one of her boyfriend’s mothers, she found herself wanting Mrs Potter’s approval more than she’d ever wanted anything. Armed with a tinfoil tray of charcoal no amount of garlic could disguise, she thought she’d blown it when Mrs Potter laughed right in her face. She thought she had no hope when she explained “we have cooks for that!”. She thought it was over, no chance of redemption, when Mrs Potter called her efforts “cute”.

In the present, the heat spreading in Lily’s chest feels like shame, and she drops her head back down to the sink, watching the soap suds dance across the rippling surface like battleships. So used to feeling confident, to be the prettiest and smartest person in the room, she was completely at the mercy of Mrs Potter’s approval. Craving it like a dog does a bone.

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Potter’s fingers cool her burning skin, ghosting lightly over her collarbone, resting under her chin.

“I’m not.” Lies come easily to Lily, especially when she knows there’s no chance of them being believed.

“No, I seem to remember you having no shame, especially back then.” A long fingertip tilting her face back up, back to meet Potter’s eyes.

Of course it was true. Small fish in a big ocean, Lily had used her limited resources to get the attention she needed. Out of her depth in the Potter’s old money world, she resorted to what she knew best. A forgotten scarf, or coat, so she’d have a reason to return to the house. A few extra sprays of perfume so she’d linger long after she left the room. An extra short skirt, forgotten panties, a dropped tube of lipstick.

Tricks she’d never dreamed would work. It shouldn’t have worked.

Hook line and sinker, it had worked. Just like it did for her son.

“Our memories differ.” Lily’s voice is soft, teasing. The perfect tone. A dog whistle.

“I could remind you.”

Hands sliding down her arms, pulling her from the water. The gold glint of her wedding band as it drops onto the window sill, discarded. The curl of heat in her stomach is far from shame.

“Remind me.” A request, an order. Lily arches her back against Potter’s hips, putty in her hands. “Mrs Potter.”

Nails dragging up her arms and Potter’s teeth on her earlobe. A warning, a punishment, a promise. “Nice try.” She chastises. There’s a smear of red on Lily’s neck from her lipstick. The same shade of red that Lily spent a whole paycheque on so it wouldn’t be suspicious. The same shade of red that sends blood pooling to the surface every time.

“Effie.” She’s horrible, she’s rotten. She’s playing right into her open palm. One more push back and Potter’s hands are on her waist. Steadying her, pinning her, holding her in place.

“I remember you sitting on the couch, legs crossed so nicely.”

And Effie’s bare foot is between Lily’s legs, spreading her thighs apart. Static from her skin like electricity to Lily’s trembling thighs. She leans back, a bad dog, bracing herself against Effie’s tall frame.

“Mmhmm.” She’s temporarily reduced to sounds only, her ability to form words lost somewhere in Effie’s wandering finger, traveling underneath her skirt.

“I remember you offering to wash the dishes, pretending like you didn’t know we had kitchen staff.”

An excuse to drag her out of the room, to get her alone. It worked then and it’s working now.

“I remember you spilling wine on that horrible cheap blouse.”

Her other hand on Lily’s breast, sliding the dress off her shoulder. She’s exposed to the night, the dark garden that stretched beyond the kitchen. Effie’s thumb grazes her nipple. She watches her own face twist in pleasure.

“I remember you taking it off right in front of me.”

She’s practically vibrating with want, Effie is so close to her throbbing cunt. One more step back and she would play into her hands. Her nipples are so hard she’s aching, and suddenly the warm air is painful, could never compare to the heat of Effie’s breath.

“I remember you tripping over yourself to cover up.”

Her dress settles on her hips and in the reflection her own pale skin is blotched with red, with goosebumps, with want. Effie’s hand travels down her stomach, pinning them together. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to. And why would she want to?

“Mmm.”

“I remember you slipping and accidentally kissing my lips instead of my cheek when you thanked me for helping you clean up.”

She’s a bad dog, she gets a bite for her troubles. A slowly purpling bruise at the hollow of her throat. Something she couldn’t cover with her dress. Something her son would see.

“I was a mess back then.” Lily succeeds. She shouldn’t want so badly. It shouldn’t feel like Effie pulling a string, the hook buried deep inside her cunt. She shouldn’t want to go gladly, fish out of water.

“I remember.” Effie’s eyes are locked on hers in the reflection, her simple words and clear assurance are almost enough to falter Lily’s resolve.

Almost, but not quite.

Lily moans the dog’s whistle, the one specifically reserved for Effie. Backs onto her open palm, her curled fingertips, and fucks herself. The brashness the years had allowed her combined with the confidence that came with knowing another person totally, completely, and she fell back into Effie’s body.

“I remember the first time I touched you like this.” Effie whispers, her thumb dancing over her clit with infuriatingly insignificant pressure. Two could tease, but Lily was a bad dog, she deserved it. She tightened her thighs around Effie’s arm, squeezing her cunt and the two fingers Effie was holding inside her like a placeholder.

“I remember how much you wanted it. You were wearing panties then, that didn’t last long.”

It didn’t. Lily knows Effie loves the knowledge that she’s one layer away from her, even in public, even at the dinner table. A secret shared between them, a shifting of position that takes a second too long, and wet patch on the velvet couch where Lily was sitting. An invitation.

In the night sky, Effie’s cheeks are flushed pink. Her lipstick is smudged on the corner of her mouth, her crooked glasses slip down her nose. Her usually perfect facade, pulled apart one piece at a time by Lily’s hand.

Lily holds her gaze as she pushes her hips back firmly, Effie’s fingers burying deep inside her. Effie didn’t need to move. Lily remembered how to do it without her.

Just enough friction from Effie’s trapped hand between her legs and Lily is on the edge, gripping the sink until her knuckles turn white. But she won’t beg for release. Not when she knew Effie wanted to give it to her so badly.

“I remember everything about you.” Effie promises, and all Lily’s rational thought travels out of her brain and down to her pulsing cunt. “I remember you like it was the first time, every time.”

In the window, Lily can meet her own eyes. And she is not just Mrs Potter, mother and wife. Mrs Potter, young bride and homemaker of a humble townhouse in the quiet village. Mrs Potter, newlywed who everyone forgot had a life before she wore the white dress.

She’s Evans, the girl with a thousand eyes on her. Evans, with the brilliant mind and quick wit. Loving sister, caring friend. Tallest poppy in the field, Evans, who everyone loved.

She’s Lily, coming apart Effie’s arms. She’s Lily, curled at Effie’s feet because she did the one thing no one had dared to do- keep her at arm’s length. She’s Lily, promising Mrs Potter an orgasm like a generous benefactor makes a donation. She’s Lily, pulling Mrs Potter to the kitchen on the hem of her skirt. She’s Lily, kissing Effie goodbye with the same lips that whispered sin before they both went to bed with their husbands.

In the kitchen they are alone. They’re together like it’s the first time, like it could be the last, like they could have a million more. She cums for Effie like it’s the first time, biting her knuckles to muffle the sound. She’s good. She’s got it.

#hpsapphicsfeb24 #femslash february #lily x euphemia #strezzlecki

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hpsaffics · 2 months

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@hpsaffics femslash feb day 24 - unhappy marriage | 2.3k words (whoops) | lesbian lilypad (regency au!! rivals to lovers!!) | warnings for a little bit of violence, a little bit of angst, and a little bit of making out <3

for my darling @themuseoftheviolets ilysm and you pushed me off the edge of a cliff the day we first started talking about them. so. hope you enjoy!!

It wasn’t meant to be like this.

Lily was being shown around Potter Manor by her new husband, James was telling her anecdotes about every piece of furniture, welcoming her into his heart and home, and it should’ve been perfect - but it wasn’t.

James had always been the goal, the plan, the marriage that would elevate her family, solidify her status, grant her security - he was meant to be her happily ever after, but she couldn’t seem to manage the ‘happily’ part, and she quite desperately didn’t want this to be ‘ever after’.

They had been married for a day, just one day, and Lily could feel every second of it, the weight of the gold band around her left ring finger, the weight of the life she had married into, the weight of til death do us two part.

And there was nothing wrong with James.

That was why she had wanted to marry him in the first place; he was handsome, and wealthy, and charismatic, and polite, and everything she had ever wanted; he was the stories her mother used to read to her and Petunia before bed, the way she had always envisioned her future, the prince charming to her fairy-tale princess. He was walking her through the manor and trying to engage her with stories from his childhood, trying to make her feel at home, trying to make her happy, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with him but it wasn’t working.

It was with her that the problem lay.

It was in the way that she hadn’t really been listening to a word that he was saying, smiling and laughing in the right places but not properly paying attention.

In the way that she found his enthusiasm grating, his words hitting her ears jarringly, the wrong voice, the wrong cadence; the way that she couldn’t bring herself to care, couldn’t bring herself to fully engage, to offer any of herself in return.

It was in the way that walking around the manor felt like a hollow victory, something almost chasmal between her ribs, threatening to swallow her whole, something with dark, silky hair and silver-grey eyes, a bottomless abyss.

Lily had everything, she had won, the husband and the title and the dream come true, and yet it all just felt wrong, uncomfortable and stifling and not at all how she had always imagined it would feel - it was everything that she had ever wanted and she hated it, and she hated that she hated it.

And she knew exactly who’s fault it was, knew who had slipped between her ribs like fingers through dark, silky hair and opened an crevasse, pushed her down avenues she never would have dared to explore, changed the things she dreamt about, the things she fantasised about.

James pushed open a door, still talking, telling her some inane story that she had completely tuned out.

Lily smiled mindlessly as he gestured for her to enter ahead of him, glancing over the room she was walking into and - stopping dead in her tracks.

She knew this room.

She had been in this room before, just over a month ago now, a memory that she had been trying to suppress, trying to push it down into the depths of that gaping hole inside of her, a memory that she didn’t think she would ever be able to consign to oblivion, a memory that tormented her, that swirled through her mind like smoke, impossible to contain.

Lily could feel sharp fingernails digging into the skin of her upper arm through the fabric of her dress, a hand pulling her along and then shoving her through a door.

A hand that was attached to an arm that was attached to a body that was draped in finely-embroidered white muslin and emerald silk. A body that belonged to Sirius Black, a body that was looming over her now, one hand on each of Lily’s shoulders and shaking her, silver-grey eyes flashing with anger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked, shaking her harder as Lily tried to pry her hands away, those fingernails digging into her skin again, sharp and cruel and unrelenting.

Lily scowled, crossing her arms instead, feeling that deep well of anger in her ribcage start to bubble up in the way it always did when she was around Sirius.

“What’s wrong with me?” she replied, “You were the one who was all,” - Lily put one hand to her chest, batting her eyelashes, adopting a breathy, simpering voice, and quoting, - “Oh! My lord! Might you like to dance the second with me as well?”

Sirius rolled her eyes, pushing Lily away with one last shake and making her stumble backwards further into the room. Lily looked around as she recovered her balance - it was an extravagant room, yet somehow still elegant despite the excess of red, and likely intended to be used as some sort of parlour.

She glared across the room at Sirius who scoffed, “I don’t see why you’re complaining, you danced five times with him at the Longbottom ball, honestly you’re so entitled”

“I’m entitled?” Lily interrupted, heat starting to rise in her cheeks in the way that it always did when she was mad, “Everyone knows that the first dance is the most important one, especially at his own ball, but, of course, that still wasn’t enough for you, no, you had to have the second one too, you have to have everything-”

Sirius interrupted her then, narrowing her eyes, silver-grey like the diamond necklace around her throat or like the jagged rocks at the bottom of a cliff that Lily wanted to push her from, “And you’re jealous, you’re jealous and immature, you’re like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum because someone else took your toy”

As she spoke, she stepped closer towards Lily, index finger pointed in her face, those sharp, unrelenting fingernails, “Duke Potter wanted to dance with me, he chose me this time, and yes, maybe I do think I deserve it - I’m certainly more deserving of it than you”

That last word was emphasised with a harsh jab of that index finger into Lily’s collarbone.

“Is that so?” Lily asked, swatting Sirius’ hand away and putting her own hands on her hips. This close, Lily had to tilt her head up to look into Sirius’ eyes - silver-grey, bright and cruel and hard, “Might I ask what you’ve ever done to make you more worthy of Duke Potter than me?”

“You might,” Sirius replied, smirking down at her, the same smirk that had been on her face when she asked James for a second dance, glancing at Lily out of the corner of her eye, the same smirk that had fallen from her face when Lily had tripped her up, making her fall and interrupt the entire dance.

“For one,” Sirius began, lifting her hand to count out the reasons on those cruel, unrelenting fingers of hers. “I’m fluent in six languages and I know for a fact that your Latin is subpar”

Lily frowned, still looking up at her, still standing so close that the hems of their dresses were touching, “I play more instruments than you, though, you only play the three and even then your flute is really quite abysmal”

“Numeri duo,” she continued, in Latin because she always had to be ostentatious, lifting a second finger and not even acknowledging Lily’s words, “My family name is much more prestigious than yours and so the match will be both auspicious and widely favoured”

“But your parents disagree about almost everything, surely that would make the match rather more disagreeable than my family name would,” Lily rebutted, reaching up with one of her hands to try and forcibly fold Sirius’ middle finger back down again.

Sirius grabbed her wrist with her other hand, struggling to pull it away so that she could lift a third finger, “Thirdly, I have been taught how to properly behave myself in public and don’t go around tripping people over and ruining balls like I’m still four years old”

Lily grinned, because maybe it was messy but she could be just as sharp and cruel as those silver-grey eyes, as those unrelenting fingernails which were now digging into the skin of her wrist, pressing against her pulse. She could ruin Sirius’ pristine reputation, the belle of every ball, the perfect heiress to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, make her the centre of attention in a bad way, trip her over and make it look like it was Sirius’ fault that half the ballroom was knocked over in the process.

“If you didn’t want to fall over, you should have learnt to balance better,” Lily replied, something almost vindictive behind her teeth and rising up her throat from that well of rage in her ribcage, “Didn’t your family ever teach you about the importance of carrying yourself correctly?”

Sirius took a step closer and Lily felt the angry heat in her cheeks start to spread down her neck as well.

“Didn’t your family ever teach you about the importance of growing the fuck up?” Sirius replied, those silver-grey eyes fixed on Lily’s green ones with the weight of an anvil, of a wedding ring, fingernails digging further into Lily’s wrist, not enough to draw blood but enough to hurt.

Lily narrowed her eyes and picked up her foot to press the heel of her shoe into one of Sirius’ feet, relishing in the way she winced slightly, moving even closer, close enough to almost feel the heat of her body through the layers of their dresses.

“Didn’t your family ever teach you about the importance of not being an arrogant, egotistical, conceited, self-important brat?” she hissed back, twisting her foot further into the top of Sirius’.

Sirius kicked her in the shin with her other foot, knocking Lily’s foot away and making the two of them stumble backwards slightly, Lily’s calves pressing against the edge of a red, velvet sofa. She ground her heel into the top of Lily’s foot in turn, hand around her wrist squeezing tighter and the entire line of her body pushed up against her.

Lily forced down a grimace from the pain and scowled up at her, craning her neck to meet her eyes as Sirius spoke again, “Didn’t your family ever teach you about the importance of not being an uncouth, selfish, desperate, grasping whore?”

Lily slapped her.

The hand that wasn’t caught between Sirius’ fingers coming up almost on instinct and slapping her across the face, a sharp crack ringing through the room.

“How’s that for uncouth?” Lily asked, breath heavy, hand stinging. There was a red mark on Sirius’ porcelain cheek in the shape of her fingers.

Sirius looked at her then, an intensity in those silver-grey eyes that was different somehow from the cold cruelty of before, an intensity that made Lily’s breath catch in her throat.

There was a moment where the two of them just looked at each other, a pause, and then Sirius was moving even closer, letting go of her wrist to instead slide her fingers into the base of Lily’s elaborate hairstyle and pressing their lips together.

They were kissing, and it felt like Lily’s world was being ripped in half, an abyss opening up between her ribs, fathomless and ever-expanding, a chasm that chanted her name, Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, everything was Sirius.

Lily had both hands on Sirius’ shoulders, fingers digging into skin through the fabric of her dress, and she was falling backwards off a cliff, eyes shut tight and hot lips on hers, falling backwards into that bottomless well, filled with something that maybe wasn’t anger, swallowed by the dark, silky hair and silver-grey eyes of the abyss, falling backwards onto the red velvet sofa, a leg wrapped around Sirius’ and pulling her down on top of her, teeth clashing together messily as they fell.

There was a hand in her hair, pulling at it, ruining the up-do that had taken hours to perfect, hair pins falling out onto the sofa, and another hand high on her waist, pushing against her ribs through the corset she was wearing and manoeuvring the two of them so they were sideways on the sofa, Sirius with one knee between her legs, body pressing down close on top of her, hot breath and sharp, unrelenting fingernails digging into her skin.

Sirius moved, trailing kisses down her jaw and neck, and Lily’s back arched, head tilting backwards, panting as she moved her hands to squeeze at Sirius’s neck, thumbs pressing into her sharp jawline. There was heat wherever Sirius touched, all over her body and it wasn’t like the angry heat that had been in her cheeks before, it was burning and passionate and carnal in a way that came directly from the depths of that abyss, that splitting rupture in the life she had planned for herself, those intense, silver-grey eyes and the dark, silky hair that she was now running her fingers through.

Sirius bit down on her neck, hard enough to draw blood, hard enough to hurt, sharp and cruel and unrelenting, and Lily gasped, pulling on Sirius’ hair, opening her eyes -

- and the room looked the same, the same red velvet sofa, the same extravagant elegance, but everything was different, everything was wrong.

Sirius wasn’t there.

It was just James, looking at her concernedly, asking if she was okay, and Lily, with the infinite chasm in her ribcage that was eating her alive, irrepressible and boiling with something and burning her up from the inside out.

It was suffocating. It was tormenting her. It was the realisation that maybe she wasn’t the fairy-tale princess she had always dreamed of being, maybe everything she had ever thought she wanted was wrong, maybe she was going to spend the rest of her life feeling hollow, a bottomless abyss that she would never be able to fill.

#hpsafficfeb24 #femslash february #lebsian lilypad #sugarsnappeases

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hpsaffics · 2 months

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A little Millicent/Pansy for the @hpsaffics Femslash February prompt 'good girl'.

Millicent knew what she's good at: being big and mean and ugly. Her mother used to sigh and ask if she really wanted to eat that. Her father said she could be almost pretty if she smiled more. Millie did not smile. She ate the last slice of cake. She got good at using her big arms and strong legs, and her right hook could lay a man flat without bruising her knuckles too badly. Nothing a quick healing spell couldn't fix. She knew what she was good at. She wasn't pretty or sweet or delicate, but she was good at hurting those who were.

Pansy wasn't pretty—she grew into her nose, but it stayed rather pug-like—but she was striking. Everything about her was designed to be razor sharp: the severe cut of her bob, the colour of her lipstick like a bead of fresh blood, the wing of her eyeliner and the point of her nails. She was like a knife cradled in satin and lace. Deceptively decorative.

Millie was never afraid of hurting Pansy. Pansy could bleed her dry with a single word. Her tongue was sharper than any Diffindo spell. The words Pansy chose to use were: kneel and good girl and fuck me.

Pansy called her sweetheart and darling and made Millie's whole body burn up with a look, a coy smile. It was like a fever, a shiver-haze of desire in her blood. Millie didn't know where to put her feelings, heart beating out of her chest as if her rips couldn't hold it all, too big and bold for her body. So she put Pansy on her back, spread her legs open and buried her feelings between her thighs until her fingers ached and her tongue felt numb. She kept going, fucked her until Pansy's curses and moans rang in her ears. Millie licked her buzzing, swollen lips, drunk on the taste of Pansy's cunt, and made her convulse again and again, until Pansy grabbed her hair and pulled Millie off her clit.

She obeyed, like the good girl she was; no more orgasms tonight. Millie buried her face in Pansy's blood-hot, swollen cunt and licked her clean with soft sucks and kitten licks. Pansy giggled and pulled her hair and came one last time like a rolling wave onto the shore, on a gentle swell of a sigh. Millie smiled, obedience was overrated anyway.

Millicent knew what she was good at. She was at her best buried between Pansy's legs.

>> more microfics <<

#hpsafficfeb24 #femslash february #millicent x pansy #ghaniblue

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hpsaffics · 2 months

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femslash feb - day 23

23 - AU's | it's short. it's a micro. possibly a milli though. little bigger than a micro yk. just three decimal places. | james potter/minerva mcgonagall | @hpsaffics

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Duchess always gets the best seat in the house.

The leg of the couch that extends along their floor-to-ceiling living room windows is her place of residence. That's what her address says, James is sure of it: The End of the Couch Overlooking Central Park, Big Penthouse, New York. She's joked about this with Minerva before, or tried to. It seemed like Minerva didn't get it.

James is thinking about this now because she's just pulled out a moldy container of chicken pesto that they were supposed to eat for dinner today, because the grocery order isn't coming in until tomorrow. Minerva is literally in the elevator up and James has the table set, the Friday champagne in it's ice bin, and no fucking food to feed them with. And Duchess is as cool as a cucumber, tail tucked up under her fluffy head as she watches the sun set behind the high rises. Already well-fed, on her way to a happy night's sleep.

And then the elevator dings.

"Darling?"

James freezes, the container still in her hands; there's nothing she can do but toss it straight into the garbage. It makes a horrific noise James likens to what it must sound like to drop a heavy book in a silent library.

"I'm in the kitchen!"

Keys are tossed onto the little table by the elevator, heels shucked off, coat hung on the rack, James can hear it all. The sounds of life fill their open plan living and dining space and she feels a little better. And then Minerva rounds the corner, still in her pantsuit, still with her hair pinned back and James' knees go a little weak. Hands go cold, like clockwork, and Minerva smiles. A genuine one, a suspicious one.

"What was that noise?"

"Oh nothing, just me tossing the Tupperware of moldy chicken pesto we were supposed to eat tonight in the garbage."

Minerva hums, lays her pocketbook on the counter before turning around. "And you had a good day?"

James meets her in the middle, hands resting on Minerva's waist as she presses her face close. "Well up until 5 minutes ago, yeah." She presses her face into the crook of Minerva's neck and inhales her Chanel perfume. "Missed you."

A hand combs its fingers through her curls and James sighs. Minerva hums. "How about Greek tonight?"

That gets a nod from James, face still tucked away, doing something. She's not exactly sure what, just little open mouthed kisses here and there and Minerva's arms wind around her shoulders, pulling her even closer. Chests pressed together and Minerva leans her head back, welcoming something more, so James gives it.

"You want a salad or a gyro?"

James doesn't answer, tongue and teeth doing most of the work now against tough skin and it's nice. To push her partner against the counter a little, carefully, and ignore the rumbling in her stomach.

"Darling?"

"Hm?"

"You can't eat me, love," Minerva chuckles and it's beautiful. Guides James' head out from hibernation and holds it in her hands. James is slouching a little, so they can meet eyes but she always has to. "Salad or gyro?"

A smirk. "Both?"

"Both..." Minerva tsks. Lips right there but James wouldn't, not when that look flashes in her cloudy eyes. "You're that hungry?"

"We can keep leftovers?" James suggests, an easy smile but she already knows where this is going by the way Minerva's hand is sliding down her back.

"And won't they get moldy again? You'll have to pick I'm afraid," her hand lands at the rolled-over waistband of James' sweats, thumbing just where it meets her skin. "So do you want to call in the order before I fuck you over the counter? Or do you need time to decide?"

#hpsafficfeb24 #femslash february #james x minerva #divinerapturee

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hpsaffics · 2 months

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This year’s fest will be held as part of the Ladies of HP fest and will run from June 9th-22nd

Come and join the Discord server: discord.gg/s9wecupV6m

Mod for this part of the fest: @artemisia-black

Mods for the ladies of HP fest: @celestemagnoliathewriter @merlinsbudgiesmugglers @artemisia-black

#women of the house of black #ladies of hp

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hpsaffics · 2 months

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Today is the day!

Prompting opens today so make sure to check out our FAQ and rules before prompting.

Once you’ve done that, feel free to fill out the prompting form! Remember that prompting closes on March 2 at 11:59pm EST

Have fun! We can’t wait to see what you come up with!

#hpmilffest #hp fest

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hpsaffics · 2 months

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femslash feb - day 17

17 - rumors (we're wildly out of order here. ah well) | less than micro words | lesbian prongsfoot | @hpsaffics

It's just a rumor.

Sirius Black, America's next big tech giant, still lives with her childhood best friend in a huge penthouse in the upper east side. Hasn't moved out, hasn't thought about moving out, at least not according to her Architectural Digest front page article that talks about a king-sized bed on the same page as her fully carbon free herb garden. A Pelaton that Sirius says she has never touched, protein shakes in the fridge that Sirius has been quoted saying she didn't even make, and it's all a rumor.

The bathroom has towels with matching monograms, Sirius likens the pink ones to James and the green ones to herself. "We like to color code things," she said, taking extra care to fold a pink towel and put it back on their self that had been left haphazardly on the floor. "James' cups are mostly pink too. She likes the ones with silly feminist quotes." It's true; the one left still half full on the island today says "Smashing the patriarchy but first: coffee." It makes Sirius smile something mysterious, like she knows something they don't.

"James isn't home right now," Sirius had said as they walked through the living room towards her office, with full floor to ceiling windows that looked out towards downtown Manhattan. "She took the jet this morning and went to...Grindavík? I think. She's getting her weekly mudbath, she won't go anywhere but Iceland."

The interviewer had asked Sirius if she missed her friend. Sirius had snorted. "God no, if anything I'm jealous. If I could have cancelled this interview I would've gone with her."

It's rumored that James Potter met Sirius in a private preschool and they'd been inseparable ever since; it's also rumored that Sirius picked James up off the side of the street and doesn't let her leave. Sirius has never commented on either account; James has never been found to even give a comment.

Two best friends share a bedroom, carry around each other's lipstick shades and small bottles of each other's perfume. Two matching pairs of slippers, two matching robes, two rings on a plate on her dresser. One gold band and one encrusted with diamonds, and Sirius made no comment on that either.

#hpsafficfeb24 #femslash february #lesbian prongsfoot #divinerapturee

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hpsaffics · 2 months

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March HP Femslash Prompts

March prompts for Sapphic Microfics!

Yes! We're back! (For March and April)!

These prompts can be taken and interpreted every which way you want, including changing the tense or pronouns or order of any dialogue. You do not have to stick with what might be the most straightforward association, and every individual prompt post will include a few suggestions to get you started.

This event is open to any HP femslash ship, any era, any character, OCs welcome.

All these prompts can be combined with other events (as long as they also allow you to combine prompts)!

If inspiration strikes, you are still allowed to write for any of the previous prompts!

The rules for this event can be found here, the previously submitted fics are all here and in this collection on AO3, and if you want to search them by ship you can do so here!

Sapphic Microfics is hosted by @hpsaffics, whose discord server holds a specific channel where these prompts and the incoming fics are excitedly discussed, so if you’re looking for people to talk with, check them out! (The server is 18+, keep that in mind!)

The prompts:

Teeth

Selfish

Muggles

Golden

Impossible

Bridge

Accident

Masked Ball

"They're gone"

Petunias

Nightmares

Toast

Title

Jacket

"Don't ruin it."

Bleeding

Field

Horses

Stress

Snow

Pond

Theatre

Hogsmeade

Prom

Illness

Bunny

Family

Pastel

Storm

Relief

Eggs

#microfics are back!!#sapphic microfic #march prompts

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hpsaffics · 2 months

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femslash feb - day 18

18 - first kiss (we're 3 days early but its fine) | the wordage is minimal | lesbian tedromeda | @hpsaffics

Ted's nice.

He's got nice hair, a nice face. Nice family, their parents are such sweethearts. Nice clothes, a nice smile. He's just nice, and that's kind of all there is to it.

Andy's not nice. Not one bit.

She sneers, bites. Gnashes at his nice words, at his nice smiles and tears them to shreds at their feet. She doesn't mean to, or maybe she does until she sees the crestfallen look on his face that makes him look like a doe in headlights. It makes her feel bad, a little bit; it makes her soft and she hates it. That she gets soft around them, when anyone else would make her frown or curse or roll her eyes.

When Ted kisses her for the first time, underneath the stars with the radio on their favorite classic rock station, it's nice. So nice that she almost cries, could cry, would cry if it wasn't for Bruce Springsteen jeering through the speakers of his vintage Chevy that makes her remember they're at the beach parking lot. In the light of day. In fucking February.

And that Ted's entire body is bent over the center console, his belly pushing into the gearshift and he's kissing her so hard she can feel his teeth on her bottom lip. Not biting, just pushing in, closer until their teeth marks will probably be printed on her lip for hours after this.

Pushing and pushing until Andy finally pulls away, pursing her lips.

Ted's still holding her face in his hand, the other balancing himself and he's grinning so wide. They could never even try to win at poker, they'd be found out in less than a second. "I've wanted to do that since..."

"Oh yeah? You happy now?"

"Very." He doesn't even try to be discrete, is the thing. Andy's convinced they'd pull something like Patrick Verona singing in the football stands, and she'd have to go and barf in the toilet before she could look at him again. That mess of blonde hair and blue eyes and square jaw but still something so soft there.

Makes her feel like Ted could send that beaming smile her way and she'd melt into a puddle from the heat. It makes her feel wrong.

She doesn't realize she's been glaring at him for too long until he's pushing in for another one and she has to press a hand to his mouth.

"Listen. I'm trying to not be mean, but that was a shit first kiss. Let me just..." and she moves her hand to his cheek, smooth skin and pushes herself to meet him in that middle.

And he melts in her hand. And that feels like magic.

#hpsafficfeb24 #femslash february #lesbian tedromeda #divinerapturee

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hpsaffics · 2 months

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@hpsaffics feb 5 - flowers & chocolate - 1k words - cw: mentioned oral sex at the end

aka beautiful, happy, older wifeys <3

When Sirius opens the front door it’s to the smell and sounds of cooking. Garlic heavy in the air, curry and spice. Lentils, fresh rosemary, the radio chiming in the background and Remus’ voice humming along sweetly as she presumably shuffles around.

Sirius smiles to herself as she slips out of her loafers and makes her way farther into the cottage barefooted, the old hardwood floor warm under the soles of her aching feet. She should have gone to yoga with Remus on Sunday instead of taking a four hour hike with Harry and the dogs. She’s not in her late bloody twenties anymore as opposed to her godson. But alas, the things you do for love, right?

It’s pleasantly warm inside, air crispy with oxygen but mellow warm from the afternoon sunshine beaming in through their old windows. The plastic is crinkling in Sirius’ palms as she saunters down the hallway, the chocolate and flowers she picked up on the way back from work and Sirius smile widens in anticipation of presenting the gift to her wife.

She presses her lips together, deliberately keeping quiet so that she can peek around the doorframe first and take her love in as Remus thinks she’s still home by herself. Well, apart from Macy and Squash, of course, which Sirius already greeted outside when they spinted down the front yard to welcome her, tails wagging in elation.

Sirius is careful to lean around the edge slowly so as not to attract any attention by the sudden movement and immediately her heart does a little spin inside her ribcage. Feels a little fuller, possibly overflowing with adoration.

Remus has her hair pulled back into a low, lazy bun, a smaller strand at the front has slipped out and it gleaming golden grey in the sunlight streaming in from behind her. Her lips are pursed and her head is bobbing lightly to the music—fucking precious. Only clad in a form fitting black halter top, tied into a loop at the back of her neck and a pair of bulky linen shorts that could be mistaken for striped boxers at first glance but Sirius knows better. Knows they’re soft from wear and comfortable but still something nicer, something Remus would categorise as ‘chic’. Sirius looks again, closer, and notices the gleam of something bright red and lacy under the pants that make the corners of her grin tug into something sharper. Make her want to fall into giddy giggles and pull Remus into her and kiss her breathless. There’s no bra—Remus doesn’t do those and Sirius is all the happier for it, blessed with easy access for a lifetime—the nipples of Remus’ big breasts visible through the sheer cotton top and Sirius’ mouth waters as she gapes at the freckles trailing over the round skin and down her wife’s cleavage like some pervert. Well, she thinks she’s earned the right to ogle like that after 30 plus years though.

It doesn’t take much more incentive for Sirius to step out of her hiding spot, “Moony, sweets, aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing to ever grace this planet.”

Remus looks up from her cooking, eyes rolling and lips pulling into a smile despite herself. Sirius thinks it’s cute that she still tries to make Sirius believe she’s not swooning at her antics every single time without fail.

Her wife lays down the cooking spoon and meets her halfway unhurriedly, laugh lines wrinkling her eyes and then her hands come up to pull Sirius into a kiss by the cheeks. Her own hand snakes around to the small of Remus’ back, tugging her close and then there’s a happy hum. Lips not quite open but not closed either and it has a bit of a wet smack to it when they pull apart—it makes Sirius irrationally ecstatic and she beams at her wife toothily.

Remus snorts, bumping their noses, “What have you done now, Black?”

Sirius shakes her head in faux disappointment, “Lupin-Black, my love, you should remember by now! It’s nearly our 20 year anniversary.”

Remus pokes her in the side with a rigid index finger and Sirius squirms, snickering. Bony fingers drive through the short, black curls on Sirius’ head, blunt nails scratching over her skull and eliciting a shiver from Sirius that she feels als the way down into her toes.

She sighs and Remus kisses her again before she nods over Sirius’ shoulder, “What’cha got there, baby?”

“This?” Sirius purposely rustles the plastic, “Oh, just a little gift for the most wonderful, breathtaking, awestrucking, fascinating—”

“A-huh.”

“—spectacular, terrific—”

“Oh, wow.”

“ —kind, beautiful, incredible—

“Laying it on thick.”

“—smart, stunning—”

“Oh, we’re not done yet. Got it.”

Sirius sucks in a breath, “—magnificent, mind-boggling woman in the world.”

Remus nods along in mock-indulgence but Sirius can see the blush crawling into the freckled apples of her cheeks. Makes her want to take a bite out of her.

Instead, she gives her one more quick peck and then extracts herself from her and steps back to hold out the Lindt pralines and colourful mix of tulips.

A precious smile pulls onto Remus’ rosy mouth, blinking at Sirius through her lashes and voice low when she mumbles, “Thank you so much, baby. I love them.”

She places the gift on the kitchen counter next to them and pulls Sirius into another kiss, thumbs caressing her cheeks. Sirius feels like she could do another 4 hour hike right now, high on endorphins and adrenaline.

When she pulls back Sirius feels a little hazy in the best way and the way only Remus can make her feel. Her wife cocks a brow at her, palms sliding down to settle against her waist, “You already saw the panties, didn’t you?”

Sirius blinks, lips stretching into another grin, “Yup.”

Remus scrunches her nose at her in a childish manner and Sirius laughs.

“So are we having dinner first or can I take the free time slot to eat you out?”

Remus bites onto her bottom lip, long lines in her cheeks from smiling, “It’s gotta simmer for about thirty.”

“Perfect,” Sirius winks and then tugs her in the direction of the living room for the sofa.

#hpsafficfeb24 #femslash february #lesbian wolfstar #sommerregenjuniluft

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