more deaf reg and coda james since ppl liked it last time :)
here r just a few lil blurbs
regulus who subconsciously purrs like a cat and can't hear it and james who just adores it
james who invents special signs just to say certain things to regulus, things like "i love you more than anything," "don't beat yourself up," "come to my dorm later," "you look perfect," etc.
james who never asks regulus to wear his hearing aids like his family does. he knows they hurt and would never want his love to be in pain.
regulus who can't stop thinking abt how james' hands move when he signs. he's just so energetic
james who loves the little happy noises regulus isn't aware he makes whenever james hugs him or surprises him
regulus who casts spells to make himself hear for a few hours just to practice saying james' name over and over (as well has his first name paired with james' last)
james who loves to see regulus light up whenever he talks to his parents. he finally has adults in his life who don't want him to change anything about himself
regulus who loves that james snores because he can feel the vibrations and it helps him know that james is still there when he's asleep
regulus who can't help but moan loudly whenever he and james kiss (or anything else) but he isn't aware and james will never ever tell him to be quiet 1.) because reggie would get embarrassed and 2.) because he loves it
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and what if i drop the first 1.4k wc quarter?half?1/3rd? of the jirgin chronicles ino prequel fic. mild nsfw (it's the build-up) (james has dirty thoughts and dirty talks) (he is obsessed with regulus) special thanks to my hivemind members @sommerregenjuniluft @messymoony
James’ head is buzzing.
He’s only had one drink if the cheap, bottom-shelf beer that tastes like a water-vinegar concoction can be described as such. One drink and a touch of Regulus Black, the latter being far more inebriating than their fraternity’s beverage selection (half of which has been purchased using a masterfully falsified ID made by none other Barty Crouch Jr).
Just twenty minutes ago, Regulus had agreed to body shots. The fraternity adaptation of body shots, that is. An assessment of resilience if anything, the type where it’s required you lick the salt off from between crevices that aren’t a conventional part of the intoxicative process. Nothing remotely sexy about it.
But Regulus had done so without complaint, not even a hint of disgust. He had climbed on top of James—who had been waiting while sprawled across the table, almost hard in anticipation—bent down and licked the salt straight out of his armpit before allowing James to spit the shot of tequila into his mouth. Spit, with a capital S, because Regulus had swallowed with terribly arousing indifference and even licked away a droplet that had dribbled down James’ chin.
James has had felt attraction before. But in his twenty years of living, no one has ever done it like Regulus Black.
Regulus Black from the upper crust echelons who undoubtedly attended family-hosted dinner parties where all old-money patricians gathered for an evening doused in extravagant splendor. That same Regulus Black who showed up to their haphazardly organized party dressed like a Y2K model—a cropped, sinfully tight-fitted shirt clinging to his chest and a pair of jeans that hung dangerously low on his hips. Barty’s clothes, no denying it. Sirius had let out an elated laugh when he showed up and confessed how proud he was of his little brother resembling a slutty college-dropout replication of himself.
Although Sirius managed the gone-rogue family disappointment look with remarkable ease, Regulus could never quite embody it convincingly, especially when he fit perfectly into the mold of any director’s ideal casting for a Dark Academia movie.
This, somehow, made him even hotter in James’ eyes. The prodigy, the Black family’s pride, the apple of Walburga’s eye… Walking around in a crowded living room with the remnants of James Potter’s saliva in his mouth.
He will die if he doesn’t make out with Regulus tonight. Or maybe Sirius will kill him for not finally making his move. According to him, “Regulus is only coming to these parties because of you, James. Honestly, fuck you. Fuck everyone! My brother does coke with his stupid best friend and has eyes for mine. Actually, you can all go to hell—”
The thing is, James is quite experienced in the making-out department, but terribly lacking in all other areas of physical intimacy. According to his friends, he’s a good kisser. A terrific one, even. Though other than kissing and being handsy, James hasn’t really done anything else. And boy, is he terrified of disappointed Regulus out of all people.
Worst of all, he’s ruined him for all others. Just three months ago, James tried making out with someone as a means of practice. It had lasted for two solid minutes before Kingsley pulled back and confessed James kissed with the enthusiasm of a bingo host.
In any other circumstance, James would have fought to redeem himself. But in the moment, he just ruefully sighed and confessed how head-over-heels he is for Regulus. Amused and ever eager for some juicy deets, Kingsley promptly ordered another round of drinks and encouraged James to share every tantalizing detail. The mood shifted from amusement to subdued shock when James revealed that he had been attempting to extinguish his seven-year crush for a quite while, only for it to be kindled with every stolen glance because James out of all people didn’t know how to approach him.
“Shit, that’s sorta pathetic,” Marlene had admitted, having eavesdropped the entire conversation. “I mean, really. Watching you eye-fuck was funny at first but now it’s just sad. Do something about it before we resort to seven minutes in heaven.”
And tonight is the night James does something about it in true Potter fashion: unplanned, flying by the seat of his pants—no, literally. He’s walking up the stairs without a smidgen of prudence, movements spurred on by want and want only. It’s the little horny creature wedged between his brain hemispheres that compels him to open the bathroom door, with none of his conscience at present to moderate his actions.
The handle slams against the wall and Regulus, in front of the mirror and no longer trying to fix the smudge of charcoal eyeliner, jolts in place at the loud sound of impact.
No going back now.
Regulus blinks at him, a little befuddled, then at the door, and then back at him.
“Your bathroom door’s lock is broken,” he mentions, and, oh, James is a goner for the smooth timber of Regulus’ voice. He swallows, mouth cotton-parched, and can only focus on the memory feel of Regulus’ tongue touching his skin just moments prior.
Especially now, bathed in the fluorescent lighting of the white-tiled room. His hair is properly disheveled, milky skin on wide display—bare arms, the flat of his stomach, hipbones jutted out above the edge of his jeans. James zeroes in on the dark dusting of hair leading down his belly button, disappearing behind the stupid, stupid denim.
He needs it off. All of it, actually.
“—James.”
And that’s Regulus voice, imbued with a sense of dominance—some other Black family inherent trait, probably.
“Hm?” James hums, finally looking up to meet his gaze, only for his eyes to drop down to Regulus’ bare stomach again. He wants to stick his tongue in his belly button.
“The door,” Regulus repeats himself, now frowning.
Oh, right. The door is open. They can’t have that. So, James enters the bathroom and closes the door behind him.
Regulus, wholly unimpressed, arches an eyebrow at him. Yet, James can discern the flicker of amusement in his eyes. That’s no mistake there, especially when Regulus makes no move to stop him or send him out when James slowly shuffles forward, closing the gap between them. Even as he towers over him, almost cornering him into the wall, Regulus does nothing else other than tip his chin and look at him. Put on that infuriating tone when he whispers and asks, “Need something?”
James needs. Oh, he fucking needs. His grip around the countertop’s edge tightens.
Only a breadth away, he can finally closely study Regulus. His lashes are thick, long enough to touch his eyebrows when he’s forced to look up at James like this. The skin around his nose and cheeks is dappled with freckles, barely recognizable in the early Spring. But James has seen them during the Summer when they sneaked off to lake houses or hitch-hiked to the beach, the merry lot of them. Has seen much more too. Regulus’ swimming shorts wet and rucked up, revealing the soft, milky inside of his thigh. The high arch of his sole, the lovely curve of his calf. James couldn’t care less about feet, hates it when Sirius toes off his boots around them, but would fall to his knees to look at Regulus’ toes and their crescent-shaped nails.
He would fall to his knees for him. For anything. Fuck, he would do it now. He will—
“—suck it,” James whispers, bringing his introspection finally to life. “Let me suck it.”
Right off the bat, unapologetic in every manner of speaking, a blemish on the rind of all his household-taught courtly philosophies. All coherent thought ejects James’ skull the moment he’s left alone in four walls and Regulus’ company, leaving him nothing short of painfully aroused and with the rabid animalistic desire to consume—
“It,” Regulus repeats him, drawing James from his reverie. He’s confused for a second… before a look of knowing crosses his eyes. Regulus knows. James fucking knows he does. Still, he holds onto a pretense of ignorance, giving a little cocky, sideways tilt of his head. A loose curl falls into his eyes and—James has never wanted to chew on hair this bad.
His hand reaches down to cup Regulus between his thighs, right over his jeans.
“Let me suck it.” James steps forward, gently pressing their bodies together, moving Regulus up against the wall while his hand remains nestled there. He almost preens at the sound of his soft gasp. “Let me suck your cock.”
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Regulus’ mother approaches him. She ensures that she towers over his shaking form. “Tell anyone else about this little dream of yours and I swear to you that I will have you looked up in a straight jacket before you can take your next breath. Understand?”
Regulus slides his eyes from his mother to Crey, who doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Do. You. Understand. Me. Regulus?” She pushes, emphasising each word as well as speaking with more venom for each word.
“Yes, mother.” Regulus practically whispers.
“Good.” She sneers.
Walburga walks towards Regulus’ doorway, Crey and Severus following after her. She pulls out the key to Regulus’ door that he normally keeps on the table in front of the fire. Regulus’ eyes widen as he realises what she is going to do and a small ‘no’ slips from between his lips as he begs her with his eyes. Instead of replying with her words, she shuts the door and locks it with a deafening click that echoes through Regulus’ bedroom. The last thing Regulus sees is Severus giving him a sadistic wave and a fake smile before he’s staring at the back of his locked door.
first 14 chapters of Finest Wines and Butterflies, a jegulus corpse bride fic, is posted!!!
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Part 1 of E.T. (Extraterrestrial): You're so hypnotizing
Rating: Explicit
Category: M/M
Relationship: Regulus Black/James Potter
Tags: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alien James Potter, Trans Regulus Black, Egg Laying, Oviposition, Breeding, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex, Light Dom/sub, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Overstimulation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Alien Biology, Size Difference, Mating Bond, Knotting, Dirty Talk, Choking, Belly Bulge, Mild Blood but from biting and scratching, psychedelic orgasms, Not Beta Read
It’s solstice, the twenty-second of December.
The fifth one they’re spending together.
Although, this one differs greatly from all other ones.
or, Alien James and his human mate, Regulus, enter the next phase of their relationship.
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