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The Gryffindor common room was unrecognisable. It had been transformed into the most outrageous party Hogwarts had seen since that one incident with the centaur moonshine and the enchanted bubble pit. The red-and-gold banners were half-draped in someone’s cloak, a Ravenclaw tie was swinging from the chandelier, and half the house elves had abandoned ship hours ago. The room pulsed with music that thumped through the floorboards like a second heartbeat, and the scent of firewhisky, spilled Butterbeer, and bad decisions hung thick in the air.
The crowd had blurred into a glittering mess of faces—students from all four houses slumped across couches, snogging in corners, trading stories and secrets and glitter shots. Somewhere in the mix, someone had dragged a muggle disco ball into the common room, and now it spun slow and sad above the chaos, throwing fractured light across flushed cheeks and sweaty brows.
Regulus Black was curled up in an armchair far too big for him, swaying like seaweed in the tide. His legs were thrown over Barty’s lap, his head lolled against Evan’s shoulder, and his hands were lazily tangled in Pandora’s necklace like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
“I like this,” Regulus murmured, soft and slurred, as he traced a finger down Evan’s arm. “You’re soft.”
“You’re drunk,” Evan replied, but he didn’t move. “You smell like treacle tart and sin.”
“And whose fault is that, Rosier?”
Dorcas snorted from the floor, where she’d folded herself like a cat across Pandora’s thighs, a nearly empty bottle of firewhisky dangling from her fingers. “Yours. You licked the butterbeer off the Prefect’s badge.”
“Did I?” Reg blinked, then giggled. “He said I had to earn my house points.”
“Oh my god,” Barty wheezed, slapping a hand over his face, flushed red with laughter and drink. “Regulus, you're a menace.”
“I’m an angel,” Reg protested, poking Barty’s knee with dramatic offense. “A delight. A sweet, lovely—hic—boy.”
“You’re cuddly,” Pandora said, eyes glittering. “You’ve been trying to sit on every single one of us.”
“I like people.” Reg hummed, draping himself across all of them with the determination of a lazy cat. “You’re all warm and funny and soft and I love you all very, very much.”
Somewhere across the room, Sirius Black, already eight shots in and mid-argument with Fabian over whether Muggle roller skates could be used as transportation in a magical duel, turned just in time to see his baby brother nuzzling Barty’s hair like a contented koala.
“Are you seeing this?” Sirius shrieked, jabbing a finger toward the armchair.
“Let the boy cuddle,” Lily Evans called out, perched on the arm of a couch beside Mary and Remus, hair a wild halo of red curls and whiskey-slicked sass. “He’s cuter drunk than you ever were, Sirius.”
“Oi—”
“Truth or Dare!” someone howled above the chaos. Instantly, the room roared its agreement.
A circle began to form in the centre of the room, students tumbling toward it like moths to flame, dragging their drinks and each other with them. Gryffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, even the few Hufflepuffs still awake and upright sloshed their way into place.
Frank and Gideon were already wrestling over the last of the truth serum vials, Marlene was daring Fabian to shave a dick into the back of his head, and someone had dared Remus to transfigure the punch bowl into a sentient sea creature that would only insult James. (It was now calling him a “butter-faced broom humper.”)
Regulus, after some coaxing and much snickering, was deposited in the circle with his inner circle of chaos goblins still half-wrapped around him. He blinked owlishly, swaying in place, and clutched Dorcas’s arm like an anchor.
The truth serum made its way around. One drop on the tongue, one deep breath, and the truth unspooled like thread from a spool. Secrets poured out. Confessions. Embarrassments. Tales of stolen kisses, hidden crushes, and absurd dares—James running naked around the pitch last year, Mary kissing all four of the Weird Sisters at once, Peter secretly winning a Muggle baking contest under the alias Petey Butterbuns.
Everyone was wild. Everyone was loud. The line between houses was a puddle on the floor, slurred and stomped on and mostly forgotten.
Finally, the bottle spun and landed on James.
The room immediately broke into feral hoots and wolf whistles.
“Oh, this’ll be good,” Remus muttered, sipping his drink with a smirk.
“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius drawled, flopping into his lap like a dead deer. “Tell the room. Who d’you want to marry?”
James, mid-laugh, threw back the last of his drink and blinked as the serum hit. He swayed, caught between delight and daze. And then, with a completely unbothered grin, he said—
“Lily Evans. And Regulus Black.”
The room exploded.
Dead silence for a second. Just a second.
Then—
“WHAT.”
“YOU—”
“OH MY GOD!”
“DID HE JUST—”
“JAMES CHARLUS POTTER—”
“You what now?” Sirius choked, face twisting into a tangled knot of shock and horror and rapidly dawning amusement.
Lily blinked once. Then again. And then she smirked. Slowly. Like a cat who had just noticed the canary was flirting with the goldfish.
James, still foggy-eyed from truth potion and whiskey, continued, voice fast and cracked with emotion.
“I love them,” he declared. “I love Lily because she’s brilliant and terrifying and she hexed my eyebrow off when I asked her to Hogsmeade, and Regulus is beautiful and confusing and says mean things that make me feel feelings, and he smells like old books and mischief and I don't know what to do about it—”
“JAMES,” Lily said sharply, and he instantly shut up.
She was already standing.
“Regulus, darling,” she called sweetly.
Reg blinked up, his mouth slack, blinking slowly as if waking from a pleasant nap. “Mm?”
“Come here, love.”
He snorted, amused by something in his own head, and sloppily rolled onto all fours, crawling like a sleepy kitten across the carpet, muttering to himself as he moved.
“What’s happening,” he whispered, then giggled. “Do I get a prize? I love prizes. I love Lily. I love—”
She grabbed him by the chin the second he reached her, cupping his flushed, pretty face in one hand. Her thumb dragged across his bottom lip.
“You are so fucking pretty,” she murmured, and kissed him.
Regulus squeaked. A high-pitched, embarrassed, startled sound, muffled against her mouth. He tried to speak, muttered something utterly incoherent, then whimpered again when her fingers threaded into his hair and pulled.
His breath hitched. He melted like sugar on her tongue.
The room screamed.
Sirius clutched the back of the couch like it was a lifeboat. Peter shrieked. Marlene shrieked louder. Dorcas howled and flung a shoe into the air.
And James—
James was absolutely wrecked.
His pupils were huge. His jaw slack. His chest was heaving like he’d just run a mile. His eyes dragged hungrily across the sight in front of him as if committing it to memory.
Lily, beautiful and smug, broke the kiss with a wet pop and pulled Regulus fully into her lap.
Reg slumped, dazed and limp, arms hanging around her neck, hair messy, lips swollen. He giggled dreamily and rested his cheek on her shoulder.
Then Lily turned to James.
“Why have one bitch,” she purred, “when you can have two?”
Another scream. Someone fainted. Evan punched Barty in the arm. Fabian let out a strangled “I need air.”
And Lily—Lily tilted Regulus’s face toward James, then pointed at him lazily with one finger.
“Double bottom,” she said.
James was across the room in seconds.
He dropped to his knees behind Regulus like the boy was holy scripture and he was starving. His hands found those narrow hips instantly, fingers curling into fabric like they belonged there. He leaned forward, head beside Regulus’s, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“Oh, fuck,” James groaned. “You’re both going to kill me.”
“You wish,” Lily purred.
Regulus whined, high and helpless, trying to wiggle out of James’s grip—though not very effectively. His hips bucked softly, involuntarily, and he mewled like a brat.
“I hate you both,” he mumbled, but it came out breathless and trembling.
“Sure you do,” James cooed, pressing a kiss behind his ear.
“Say that again,” Lily teased, kissing his neck from the other side.
“Fuck you,” Regulus whined.
Everyone was screaming.
Remus grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. Sirius was losing what little was left of his brain cells. Frank, red in the face, was desperately shielding Alice’s eyes. Pandora was cackling.
Barty was filming on a magical recorder with zero shame.
And through it all, Regulus Black—drunk, gorgeous, loved and ruined—whined into Lily’s mouth, melted in James’s hands, and tried to remember how to breathe.
Regulus went boneless. Just… collapsed in Lily’s lap like a ragdoll, limbs flopping soft and heavy, forehead tucked to her collarbone, breath warm and damp against her neck. A flushed, giggling mess of glittered eyeliner, tousled curls, and wine-stained lips.
“Done now,” he mumbled, voice slurry and low. “M’tired. You’re both loud.”
James didn’t hear him. Or if he did, he was choosing violence.
He was still behind Regulus, hands gripping the sharp cut of his hips with reverence, pulling him back—grinding slow, dirty little rolls of his hips like he couldn’t help it. Like instinct had taken the wheel and floored it.
Regulus twitched and growled—growled—low and annoyed, his fingers reaching back blindly to paw at James’s arm. He slapped his biceps like an offended cat, head still buried against Lily’s shoulder.
“Stop it,” he mumbled, half-whine, half-growl. “M’trying to nap, you walking hormone—”
James stilled instantly, still panting against the nape of Reg’s neck, voice hoarse with too many fantasies flooding at once.
“Sorry, sorry,” he breathed, grinning like sin. “You’re just so fucking soft.”
“You’re so fucking annoying,” Reg hissed without heat, face smushed into Lily’s chest.
James laughed.
“Didn’t hear you complaining earlier when you were purring in my lap like a housecat—”
“Fuck you,” Reg grumbled again, then yawned, limp and whiny and very much not moving.
Lily cackled softly, carding her fingers through Reg’s curls and brushing his hair back from his flushed face.
“Sweetheart, he’s always like this,” she told Regulus fondly. “Too many thoughts. All of them stupid.”
James snorted and leaned over Reg again, draping across both of them, one arm winding lazily around Lily’s shoulders.
“Speak for yourself, Evans. I’m a fucking visionary.”
“Uh-huh.” She rolled her eyes. “Visionary with a single brain cell.”
James made a noise of offense and leaned in to kiss her hard, grinning against her mouth. She kissed back, open-mouthed and smug, fingers still curled around Regulus’s waist.
Reg didn’t move. Didn’t react. Just muttered, “Gross,” into Lily’s throat, eyes still shut, and then giggled to himself softly like he’d just made the funniest joke in the world.
They broke the kiss, blinking down at him.
“Did you say something, baby?” Lily crooned.
“Nope,” Reg said too quickly.
“Uh-huh.” James was already grinning like a wolf.
“Didn’t say anything,” Reg repeated, trying and failing to look innocent, even as he smirked into the curve of Lily’s neck.
“Didn’t sound like nothing,” James drawled.
“Think he called us gross,” Lily added.
“Rude,” James pouted. “After all we’ve done for him.”
“Ungrateful,” she agreed.
“I’m an angel,” Reg declared flatly, blinking up at them with a wide, soft-eyed expression that could only be described as obnoxiously adorable. “I’m so nice. You’re both hallucinating.”
“You little shit,” James groaned, grabbing his face in both hands and smushing his cheeks. “You are such a brat, it’s unreal.”
“Me?” Reg blinked up at him with Bambi eyes. “I didn’t say anything.”
Lily rolled her eyes and kissed him again—slow and filthy—while James was still cupping his cheeks. Regulus whined faintly, but kissed back with that same lazy, sleepy sweetness, mouth parting under hers, legs going even more limp across her thighs.
Then James was kissing him too—lower, hot against his jaw and throat—coaxing out a gasp and a twitch from the boy in between them. Regulus curled into the attention like it was sunlight, whimpering softly, clearly trying not to enjoy it.
The crowd around them was unhinged. Shrieking.
Wheezing.
A full-on breakdown.
Sirius was lying on the floor flat on his back, muttering, “I need to bleach my soul.”
Pandora was actively taking bets.
Marlene was sobbing from laughter.
Dorcas was chanting, “GET HIS ASS,” at Lily like it was a religious rite.
Then, somewhere in the middle of it all—when James had just returned to nibbling at Reg’s ear and Lily was nibbling at his other one—Regulus blinked.
Something in his expression shifted.
Slowly, purposefully, he twisted in Lily’s lap, turning around so he was facing James instead of leaning into him. He stayed on his knees, perched precariously over Lily’s thighs, hands resting on James’s chest.
James blinked down, startled by the shift.
Then Reg was clinging. Wrapping both arms around James’s neck and nosing up along his jaw.
“Oh,” James said dumbly. “Hi.”
“You’re hot when you’re confused,” Regulus whispered, voice syrupy.
James made a noise like he’d been stabbed.
Reg’s fingers curled in his curls, tugging playfully. His lips ghosted just under James’s ear.
“You want to kiss me again or are you gonna keep staring like a fish?”
James groaned. Fully. Out loud. Like he was being possessed.
“Fucking hell, Regulus—”
And Lily—Lily, who had not stopped watching Regulus’s arse this entire time—just reached up and gripped his hips like reins.
She squeezed, hard, smirking to herself.
James choked.
“I know that face,” Lily said casually, head tilted. “That’s the face you make when you’re about to be a little menace.”
Reg bit James’s shoulder.
He just—bit him.
Clamped his pretty little mouth over James’s collar and started chewing on him like a teething puppy.
“What the fuck—” James wheezed.
“Nom nom,” Reg said, muffled against James’s shoulder.
“Are you—are you chewing on me?!”
“Mmhm,” Regulus confirmed cheerfully.
Lily was cackling, hands still on Reg’s hips, thumbs brushing along the curve of his spine.
Reg leaned back just enough to beam at him. “You love it.”
James tried not to. Really. But his groan said otherwise.
And all around them, Hogwarts watched the trainwreck unfold—screaming, gasping, snapping photos, cheering like they'd just witnessed history. And maybe they had.
Because no one—no one—was ever going to forget the night Lily Evans and Regulus Black tag-teamed James Potter and turned him into a whimpering puddle of man.
And the party was just getting started.
James Potter was just getting his bearings back—just starting to convince his brain to reboot—when Regulus and Lily turned on him like two lions spotting a particularly stupid gazelle.
It started with Lily.
“You look confused, Potter,” she cooed, nails dragging lazily up Regulus’s thigh. “Is it because your brain only has three operational neurons left?”
James sputtered. “I—HEY—”
Regulus snorted so hard he hiccuped. Then he pointed at James’s glasses, wobbling slightly.
“Look at him. Looks like a confused goat. Long face. Little horns. Baaa.”
“I DO NOT—WHY—”
“He does a little,” Lily mused, sipping her drink. “Especially when he’s stressed. Goat-coded.”
“I AM NOT GOAT-CODED.”
Barty howled with laughter in the background. So did half the fucking room.
Regulus giggled, delighted with himself, then leaned straight back into James’s neck and bit him again. Sharp little nips, like he was testing if James was food.
“OW—Reg—REGULUS—stop THAT—”
“No,” Reg said cheerfully, biting harder.
And through it all, Regulus kept swaying—soft, instinctive little rolls of his hips in Lily’s lap, not conscious of it at all. His drunk body was just doing whatever it felt like.
And Lily Evans—who could out-duel professors, who didn’t back down from Death Eaters, who had hexed Lucius Malfoy into coughing up glitter for three hours—was suddenly struck silent.
Her entire attention laser-focused on Regulus Black’s ass.
Regulus wiggled again.
Lily forgot what year it was.
Her eyes went wide. She stared like she’d been petrified mid-thirst. She wasn’t hearing James. She wasn’t hearing Regulus. She wasn’t hearing the screaming Gryffindors or the cackling Slytherins.
Just.
The.
Ass.
James was trying to lecture Regulus with a hand still on his waist.
Regulus was giggling into his throat and biting him like a feral guinea pig.
And Lily Evans was thinking thoughts that would qualify as war crimes.
Then James growled, half exasperated, half very very not.
“Regulus Black, I swear to God, if you bite me again I’ll hex your dick—”
Regulus cackled, head thrown back.
“You caaan’t. I don’t got one. Suck on that, loser.”
James froze.
Completely.
Mid-growl.
Mid-lecture.
Mid-I-will-strangle-you.
“You… you WHAT?”
Regulus hummed proudly into his neck.
“M’trans.”
Lily perked up like someone had just revived her with a jolt spell.
“Same.”
They both paused.
Slowly blinked at each other.
Then broke into matching chaos gremlin grins.
“NO FUCKING WAY,” Reg gasped.
“YES FUCKING WAY,” Lily laughed.
“WE SHOULD FORM A CLUB—”
“THE TRANS-FERENCE STUDENT SOCIETY—”
“DONE.”
They fist bumped. Hard.
James was staring like they had just spoken Parseltongue backwards.
“Wait—wait WAIT HOLD ON—” he spluttered. “WHO’S—WHAT DO YOU—WHO HAS—WHAT—”
Lily grinned like a shark.
“I’ve got a dick. It’s great. Love her.”
James wheezed.
“LILY—EVANS—WHY WOULD YOU JUST SAY THAT—”
“Girldick,” she said cheerfully, leaning back.
Regulus burst into giggles, leaning forward so far he nearly fell off Lily’s lap again.
“And I got a boypussy,” he whispered like it was a state secret. “Hehe.”
If James Potter had been malfunctioning before, now he was blue-screening. Face scarlet, eyes wide, mouth open, noise stuck somewhere between a gasp, a squeak, and a religious ascension.
He flicked his gaze between them wildly—Lily smug and lounging, Regulus glowing and giggly, legs thrown over Lily’s lap, cheeks pink and eyes bright.
Regulus twisted around again—sitting reverse cowgirl over Lily’s thighs so he could face James fully. Lily’s chin hooked on his shoulder, her lips brushing his cheek. She was still holding Reg’s hips in both hands like she was claiming him.
Regulus just grinned at James with the smuggest, drunkest little expression on earth.
“Hi.”
James made a helpless, dying noise.
Then Reg turned toward Lily slightly and hummed—
“...oh you’re big.”
Lily smirked and squeezed his hips again.
“Baby, I’m huge. I’m gonna rail you through a mattress.”
James choked.
Lily groaned.
“I’m so hard right now, it’s not even funny.”
Regulus giggled, wiggling on her lap. “I’m wet.”
Lily kissed his neck.
“I know, baby.”
James Potter was finished. Destroyed.
Eviscerated.
Gone.
Peter was fanning him with a trans flag someone conjured.
Sirius was screaming into the carpet.
Remus was crying from laughter.
Pandora was chanting, “GET HIM, LILY, GET HIM,” like a sports commentator.
And James—poor, sweet, overwhelmed James—was kneeling in front of them like he had just witnessed God.
He was not surviving this night.
James Potter was not okay.
He was screaming.
Out loud. Internally. Spiritually.
The entire common room was a hurricane of feral chaos—screaming, chanting, a few people straight-up praying, probably—but none of it existed to James anymore.
All he could see was Regulus Black squirming in Lily Evans’s lap.
All he could hear was their voices, teasing and breathy and filthy.
All he could think about was:
“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the FUCK.”
"WAIT," James exploded, voice three octaves too high. "WAIT. SO—YOU HAVE—"
He pointed helplessly at Lily, hands flailing like broken antennae.
“YOU—YOU HAVE A DICK?”
Lily grinned, absolutely glowing with smugness.
“The best one, actually.”
James looked like he was going to faint.
Regulus cackled, swaying back against her like a pleased little goblin. Lily’s hands stayed firm on his hips, still grinding up, slow and deliberate. They were crotch to crotch, and Regulus was fully melting—panting, blushing, giggling.
“And you—” James turned to Regulus now, fully unhinged. “YOU have a—like—a—like—like a—pussy?”
“I know, right?” Regulus giggled, eyes fluttering as Lily shifted beneath him again. “It’s soaked.”
James’s brain short-circuited.
Reg moaned lazily, letting his head drop back onto Lily’s shoulder. “Boxers are ruined. Congratulations.”
Lily cooed and purred into his ear, grinding up harder now, voice low and hungry.
“I can feel it, baby. All that wet for me?”
Reg giggled. “And a little for James.”
James died.
Dropped to his knees like his soul had been ripped from his body and returned a little dirtier.
His hands found Lily’s thighs without thinking—gripping them tight for balance as he leaned forward, leaning in, face practically between Regulus’s legs now.
“Oh my god,” he whispered.
Regulus squealed in surprise and shoved his hands in James’s hair.
“James! Back up! Back up you feral dog—”
James just grinned, eyes gleaming, cheeks red, completely unmoved.
“Let me look. I want to see. I need to see.”
“You are—so—fucking—” Reg was losing it, thighs twitching around James’s shoulders. “Oh my god, Lily, help, he’s—he’s LOOKING—”
Lily was fucking beaming.
Her chin stayed hooked on Reg’s shoulder, but her hands moved again—down, down, pulling Regulus back onto her, so he gasped and arched slightly.
“I’ve got him,” she murmured, almost sweet. “Don’t worry, baby. He can watch. He just doesn’t get to touch.”
James let out a strangled moan.
“OKAY BUT—BUT I HAVE QUESTIONS—REAL QUESTIONS—”
“Hit me,” Lily smirked.
“Is it like—like sensitive sensitive? Or like—just…you know, average sensitive?”
Lily cocked a brow. “I’m packing an A+ honour roll weapon. I could knock a bloke unconscious with it.”
“Holy fuck—”
Regulus was cackling, face bright red, giggling so hard he was shaking.
James turned to him next.
“And you? Is it like—does it—do you—do you clench?!”
Regulus blinked, then burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, clutching James’s hair like reins.
“YES, I CLENCH, YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE!”
“DOES IT GET WET LIKE A GIRL’S?!”
Regulus leaned back, spread his knees a bit wider, and grinned.
“Bitch, it floods.”
James screamed again.
Just screamed.
No words.
Just pure, primal sound.
He looked like he was going to fucking combust.
He turned to Lily. “Can I see it? Yours? Please. For science.”
Lily tilted her head thoughtfully. “What’s the magic word?”
“Girldick,” James whimpered.
“Correct.”
Regulus howled.
James turned to him, eyes wild. “And yours—do you like fingers or—?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Regulus sing-songed.
That made James freeze.
“Wait. You’ve never—?”
Reg blinked, shrugged lazily, still bouncing slightly in Lily’s lap. “M’virgin.”
James made a noise like he’d been stabbed. “YOU— WHAT—WHY— THAT’S—”
“C’mon, Prongs,” Lily said, trailing kisses up Regulus’s jaw, “didn’t I tell you? Our sweet little prince hasn’t been broken in yet.”
Regulus hummed, dreamy and dazed.
“I like my lap. My lap is nice. Lily’s lap is warm. She has a dick.”
“I KNOW,” James barked, still gripping Lily’s thighs like they were the only thing tethering him to earth. “I—I KNOW, I heard.”
Lily leaned into Reg’s neck and groaned.
“I’m so fucking hard.”
“I’m so fucking wet,” Reg whispered, a little sing-song, grinning against her.
“I know, baby,” Lily cooed again, “I know.”
James was fully malfunctioning.
Mouth open. Breathing hard. Face in Reg’s thighs. Eyes wide and haunted.
He was going to die like this. And what a beautiful fucking death it would be.
James Potter had never felt so alive. Or so dead. Or so absolutely, brain-meltingly feral.
He was still on his knees. Still between Regulus Black’s thighs. Still gripping Lily Evans’s thighs like he’d just climbed Mount Doom to get there. Still pressing his face into the space where Reg’s arse met Lily’s lap like it held all the secrets of the universe. (It did.)
And he was asking questions.
So many fucking questions. Switching back and forth between them like he was on a game show called Who Wants to Be the Next One to Ruin Me.
He snapped his head up, blinking rapidly at Lily like he’d just remembered language.
“Okay—okay but like—can you…like flex it? Like your dick? Can you make it bounce?”
Lily cackled, proud and smug and high on the moment.
“Obviously.”
“OH MY GOD.”
“Wanna see?” she teased, voice husky. “I can do tricks.”
“YES—wait—no—FUCK—” He yanked at his own hair. “Okay okay hold on—”
He turned violently toward Regulus next, eyes blazing.
“Regulus. Be honest. Can you like—feel it? Like when someone breathes near it?”
Regulus had collapsed fully now. His upper half was draped over James, cheek smushed to the top of James’s head, giggling helplessly.
“Yesss, you idiot—‘s worse than my neck,” he snorted. “Too much wind and it’s like ooh hello—”
Lily wheezed behind him.
James made a wounded noise.
He yanked his head back to face Lily again, eyes crazed.
“Do you get like—morning wood? Like the kind that hurts?”
Lily huffed a laugh and nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Every morning. Sometimes during breakfast.”
Reg squeaked, still folded over James, and Lily just grabbed his hips again and rocked him slowly. Reg moaned into James’s scalp like a drunk cat and giggled louder.
James’s brain was oozing out his ears.
He slammed his face into Reg’s stomach. “FUCK—OKAY—waitwaitwait—Reg—”
Regulus peeled his face up off James’s hair, eyes shiny, grinning like a menace.
“Yes, darling?” he said sweetly.
James blinked up like he was about to cry. “Do you squirt?!”
Regulus howled—just screamed with laughter, collapsed full-weight over James now, shoulders shaking like he was being exorcised.
“FUCKING—” he gasped, “I—I—I—NO but maybe??? I dunno, haven’t tested it yet—”
“WHY NOT—”
“I TOLD YOU I’M A VIRGIN,” Reg shouted, still grinning, flopping dramatically like he was going to perish right then and there. “I’VE BEEN BUSY.”
Lily snorted into his shoulder and rolled her hips up again.
“Not for long,” she muttered, lips brushing his ear.
Reg squeaked. “LIIIIILY—”
James, red as a fucking tomato, now had both hands dragging down his face.
He peeked through his fingers and muttered—
“…do you, like…drip?”
Regulus shrieked.
“POTTER—”
Lily lost it.
James turned to her like he was possessed.
“Do you like—come a lot? Like, is it different??”
“Wanna see?” Lily said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s very artistic.”
Reg was wheezing now, folded forward so far he was practically laying across James’s entire head, and Lily just kept rocking him lazily in her lap, watching the chaos unfold like it was the theatre and she had front row.
“Reg,” James rasped, “do you, like…pulse? Like does it do the—y’know—the throb thing?”
Reg didn’t answer. He just giggled into James’s hair and nodded like a man surrendering his mortal form.
“Feels like little fireworks,” he whispered dreamily.
James made a noise like a man being executed in real time.
“LILY—does your dick twitch when you’re about to come?!”
“Yes,” Lily said without pause. “It does a little dance. Want me to show you the choreography?”
Reg died. Fully. Collapsed over both of them. He was just a puddle now.
James, red-faced and trembling, looked up at the pair of them like they were angels sent to punish him for all his sins and maybe he liked it.
He gasped.
“I want to see everything.”
Regulus dragged his face off James’s head, eyes half-lidded, lips wet, curls falling into his face.
“You’re so down bad.”
“I am,” James whispered, “and I deserve it.”
Lily groaned. “God, this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
James nodded frantically. “Same. I’m losing years off my life but it’s worth it.”
“I’m soaking through my trousers,” Reg giggled, shifting his hips again. “My boxers are a crime scene.”
“I’m hard as fuck,” Lily muttered, still pulling him against her like a ragdoll.
“Should we—like—go somewhere?” James asked, trembling.
Regulus blinked slowly. “If I stand up, I might just fall over.”
“Carry you?” James offered instantly, like he was volunteering as tribute.
“I will,” James gasped, and no one knew who he meant.
The three of them were a tangle of limbs and breath and laughter, Reg writhing and giggling in Lily’s lap, James practically worshipping between his thighs, Lily gripping them both like she owned the world.
And the party?
Feral.
Sirius was filming.
Remus was hiding behind a pillow.
Marlene was openly clapping.
Someone had passed out.
Dorcas was selling front-row seats.
Barty was sobbing with laughter.
Multifandom but I do admit I have favorites. I like Heathers, ATLA, FNAF, horror, movies, art, gothic literature (but I low-key don't read), and other stuff.
i love fandom! i love creatives! i love drawing! i'm friendly and don't mind talking.
Stuff about asks/art!
PLS CREDIT WHEN YOU USE MY ART. Art reqs are not guaranteed.
Btw this blog is completely anti AI. If you disagree block me before I block you
AA fans: Doing their own thing.
And then a 👁👄👁
It happens over and over again.
They don't understand it - hilarious
They think this is sexy - disgusting
They think it's right/wrong - hilarious
They think like this - disgusting
They make a mod - hilarious
👁👄👁
i cant really hate out of ooc spotify playlists because i feel like most people making them are on a certain level of blorbofication where it all clicks like a puzzle in their mind. and at this point thats where we're all at. it makes sense to me that i spend my life frothing at the mouth over gingerbread men. therefore it makes sense that nagito komaeda is rocking out to hayloft by indie darling mother mother
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