ecstarry

[ecstarry]

loooove the song nothing matters 🩷 have u ever listened to sinner by the same group? another certified banger

oooh!! i have not but i will do right this second omg

[ecstarry]

'Kiss and Stab' microfic for @v7lgar & @del-stars

“Will you stop playing with that?” Regulus took away the small knife Barty had been playing with for the past hour. 

It was fine at first, before they had both chugged an alarming amount of beer. Not something Regulus had planned on doing, but finals were over and break was just around the corner. 

Barty never needed an excuse. 

“I don’t trust you with such a dangerous weapon,” Barty teased. He pushed Regulus against the brick wall just outside the pub, pressing the blade slightly against Regulus’ tender skin. 

It was a Tuesday, no one else was around that late at night. He expected Regulus to push him, huff, tell him to piss off, yet Regulus was not only silent but blushing. 

That was not the first time they had been this close, not alone and not even in public. Barty didn’t move, getting a reaction out of Regulus was uncommon, he needed to understand what had turned Regulus’ cheeks such a divine hue of pink. 

Regulus cleared his throat, his gaze traveling to the knife pressed against his neck, just above his collarbone. 

Fuck. 

“Really? A fucking knife kink?” 

Regulus grinned at him, clearly too drunk to care. He opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. An invitation. 

Barty, just as pissed and with a bulge forming underneath his pants, followed directions. He took the tip of the knife and traced the outlines of Regulus’ lips, he watched adoringly as the chest of the man in front of him kept rising and falling, almost panting. 

“You get so-” Barty stopped in a halt as Regulus traced with his tongue the same path around his lips the knife had just traveled. 

Barty felt lightheaded, all his blood went down his fucking cock as Regulus continued the show. Barty had wet dreams that started just like this, but nothing compared to the sight of Regulus Black letting out the hottest, sweetest noises as his pleading eyes asked for Barty to press the knife directly against his tongue. 

He was weak, and horny, and fucking desperate. Regulus fucking moaned, right against the metal, the noise went straight to Barty’s dick. 

“Give it to me.” Like an obedient dog, Barty obeyed and handed it immediately. He didn’t care what Regulus wanted to do with it, he just needed to touch him. 

Regulus stepped on top of Barty’s shoes, grabbed his chin and pulled Barty’s face down, “Kiss me.” 

Barty’s hands were greedy, he grabbed Regulus like he had always wanted. They wandered under his shirt, he wanted to remember this moment, he desperately tried to be present. It might’ve been the beer, maybe the power trip of holding a knife against Regulus, or just the feeling of Regulus fitting perfectly between his hands, but Barty was losing his goddamn mind. 

His mouth traveled from Regulus’ lips to his ear, down to his neck, nibbling on the skin, wanting to mark him, even if just for one night. 

“Barty,” Regulus whined. He leaned into Barty, his arms around his neck, begging to have him closer. 

“Yeah?” He pulled back slightly, he wanted to see the lust behind Regulus' gaze. 

“More.” 

“Reg.” Barty was trying for once to not fuck everything up, he didn’t want to be a mistake. But Regulus wanted him, finally. 

Regulus took out the knife from his pocket and pressed it against Barty’s collarbone. “Please.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, I get the knife kink now.” He tried to catch his breath. “But we can’t, Reg.”

Yet Regulus pressed harder, a dot of red coming out of Barty’s skin. He stayed still, too lost in whatever was happening to stop Regulus as he brushed his fingers against the wound he had just made, collected the blood with his finger and licked it. 

“Let’s go.” 

“Mhm.” 

He had no more fight in him. He wanted Regulus and he wanted him now. 

[ecstarry]

— Simone de Beauvoir, from a letter to Nelson Algren, (c. Nov, 1949) (via lunamonchtuna)

[ecstarry]

Like he held her.

like nothing matters

[ecstarry]

@rosekillermicrofic / lips / 323 words / @fromagony

“Hey, baby doll,” Barty said as he rested his arm on the small wall of Evan’s cubicle. 

“I hate it when you call me that,” Evan quipped. His eyes not leaving his computer screen, hoping that if he ignored the office flirt he would be able to regain some composure. 

“Next time try not to blush and I’ll believe you.” Evan didn’t have to look at Barty to know that a grin was spreading across his face. 

“You’re an ass.”

“And you’re gorgeous.” Barty got closer and sat on Evan’s desk. “You look stressed.” Barty pouted at him. 

“I was fine before you started bothering me.” He couldn’t stop his gaze from traveling from Barty’s thighs next to him all the way to Barty’s lips. 

“I'll take it all, baby doll… Whatever's been weighin' you do-”

Evan interrupted with a loud laugh, “Are you using a fucking Dominc Fike song to flirt?”

Barty blushed, clearly caught off guard, but not backing down. “Is it working?”

Before Evan could answer, a text distracted him. It was Regulus, he wasn’t going to be able to give him a ride home that day.

“Fuck,” Evan muttered to himself. 

“What is it? Is the damsel in distress?”

Evan returned his eyes to Barty and saw the eagerness on the man to keep their game going. 

“My car is at the mechanic and Regulus can’t drive me home today, so I need to find a new ride home.”

At once, Barty jumped from the desk, placed Evan’s bag on his shoulder and extended his arm towards him. “Your chariot awaits.”

Evan laughed at the gesture, “You don’t even know where I live.”

“I’m HR, I actually do know.”

“That sounds creepy.” 

“Only for you,” Barty quickly added with a wink.  

Evan tried to conceal his excitement as he got in Barty’s car. 

“So is Dominic Fike okay, baby doll?”

“Just drive.” A small smile adorning Evan’s face.

[ecstarry]

someone rb smth that i wrote thinking about my girl and tagged it #me and my gf and that was funny af to me considering that's exactly what i was thinking when i wrote it lol

[ecstarry]

When you say loser reg and loser edmund do you mean like I don't really know what cuz my first thought is theater kid but I have a feeling thats not what you mean(nothing against theater kids I am one myself)

i just mean not ur typical 'cool' guys, they have their own things and interests usually what would be considered 'nerdy' interests not popular lol but it's not smth that bothers them i def mean losers and not necessarily cringy

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yes my dear online friend im on my knees asking for more snippets i’ll be good please please one more snippet

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thank u to the person who commented on my wisestar fic because i now plan to spend the rest of my evening brainroting about them

[ecstarry]

wisestar // regulus black x edmund avery jr

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[ecstarry]

@into-the-jeggyverse / discuss / 335 words

“I’m fucking freezing.” Barty took one more drag of his cigarette while the rest of the group nodded.

“We need to stop smoking,” Regulus said, shivering. 

The smoking area outside their building was packed. The weather was awful, but that had never stopped them—or the other twenty students crammed into the space—from starting their mornings with a cigarette.

They’d made a pact to quit smoking once, but it didn’t even last a week. Inevitably, they found themselves back in the same circle.

Remus joined them moments later, with Sirius right beside him. 

Regulus had gotten used to it by now, his brother and his boyfriend hanging out with his friends — at least in this setting. Sometimes Peter would join them, always rolling his own cigarettes like the pretentious bastard he was. Regulus hated to admit it, but they did taste better.

“Oh, there you are,” a warm, familiar voice came from behind him.

James. 

Even buried under an unnecessary number of layers James looked good. Regulus found himself distracted by his arms, his thighs, his—everything. His mind wandered, picturing all the ways they could keep each other warm.

“It’s freezing, I can’t believe you guys are too fucking addicted to tortute yourselves like this," James said.

In unison, everyone immediately told him to fuck off. Everyone except Regulus.

His friends, his brother, and even Sirius’ friends turned to him, eyebrows raised, waiting for the comeback they all knew was coming. But Regulus stayed silent.

One by one, they drifted away as they finished their cigarettes, leaving only Barty and Regulus behind.

Barty grinned knowingly.

“No. I won’t discuss this with you,” Regulus spoke before Barty opened his mouth. 

“Since when do you hold back?” Barty teased.

Regulus only shrugged in response. 

“Don’t tell me you want to fuck Potter.”

“Finish your cig. We have class,” Regulus replied, stubbing out his cigarette and turning away just in time to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

Actually, I will fuck James Potter, Regulus thought to himself.

[ecstarry]

Sign | @jegulus-microfic | wc: 1183

Regulus finds him in the storage room sitting on a plastic chair wedged into the narrow space, earbuds in, chuckling at something on his phone. To say Regulus is annoyed is an understatement.

The sudden influx of bright light has him unplugging one ear and peering up at Regulus with an easy smile, which only grates on him further.

“Reg.” Not Reg, Regulus. “You have to look at this!” He angles his screen toward Regulus, who takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Harold.”

“Reginald,” he reciprocates easily.

“That’s not my name.”

“And my name is not Harold. Glad we got that established.” He has the audacity to put his earbud back in, and Regulus, whose patience for him has been dwindling all evening, walks over and grabs his phone, ignoring the indignant “Hey!” he gets in response.

“What are you doing here? I sent you to get sugar 30 minutes ago.”

Harry shrugs, tilting back in his chair. “I got a little sidetracked, you know how it is.”

No, Regulus does not know how it is, because he’s an adult who takes his job seriously, and Harry is a little twerp who cheated his way into employment.

Regulus takes advantage of their height difference, looking down at him, aiming for authority and a smidge of intimidation as he says, “You’re at work. Act like it!”

Harry stands up to his full height, immediately dwarfing Regulus, and Regulus has to hold back the string of curses threatening to spill out of him as he stands his ground. Harry leans forward, an amused smile playing on his lips.

“Why you hired this imbecile, I’ll never know,” he huffs indignantly when he comes back out, Harry trailing after him.

“His dad is hot,” Dorcas says from the counter, bills in hand.

Harry groans in disgust from where he’s crouched, grabbing cleaning supplies. “Never say that around me again.”

“Agreed,” Regulus supplies. “Besides, you’re a lesbian.”

“Goes to show you how hot he is. Hey, Harry, he’s picking you up today, right?”

Harry makes a noise of disgust and refuses to answer.

Regulus rolls his eyes, pulling himself up onto the counter and leaning back against his hands. Harry emerges with a rag over his shoulder and a frown etched into his eyebrows. “You’re not helping with cleaning?”

“Please, I’ve practically been working your shift for you. Clean-up is all yours, buddy.” When Harry doesn’t move, he waves him away. “Shoo, off you go, Harold.”

Harry tsks and leaves, grumbling about something to himself.

“Be nice to him,” Dorcas says while handling the register. “He has a crush on you.”

“Gross. He’s like five and the most annoying person I know.”

“He’s fifteen!” Harry calls from where he’s wiping tables. “And he can hear you.”

“He should shut up and get back to work.”

That seems to have the opposite effect on Harry, who stops wiping and leans against the table, arms crossed. “C’mon, Reg, what do you say? Me and you, what’s eight years?”

Regulus opts to ignore him, turning his attention back to Dorcas. “Besides,” he speaks in a considerably lower voice, “I have a–”

“Man,” Dorcas intercepts, making a face. “I know. Everyone knows.”

Regulus smiles stupidly, the heels of his feet tapping the cabinet below as he starts dangling his legs in giddiness. “Do they?”

“Shut up.”

“I don’t really have him, not yet at least. We’ve only been on, like, three dates, but soon. I’m locking him down, Dorcas, just you wait.”

“What’re you gonna do? Baby-trap him?”

Regulus hums, then shakes his head. “No, but did you know he’s a single father? He’s so present in his son’s life, it’s…” Regulus trails off, a glazed look in his eyes.

“Careful, your daddy issues are showing,” she says, whacking Regulus’ thigh in chastisement. “How old is this guy anyway?” 

“He’s thirty.” When Dorcas raises an eyebrow, he rolls his eyes. “What’s seven years?” The moment the words leave his mouth, his face contorts in disgust. 

Dorcas throws her head back laughing. 

When Harry takes his sweet time with the clean-up, Regulus joins in and helps mop the floor. Before long, they’re done, and Dorcas and Harry head out back to get dressed to go home, while Regulus does some minor dusting.

The door should be locked at this time; even so, the “Closed” sign should be enough to deter potential customers. As it is, the door is open, and the person who enters apparently cannot read because the bell above the door chimes and in comes– James?

Regulus is confused, but he hugs James all the same, and James reciprocates, holding Regulus close. They stay close even after parting.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asks, cradling James’ stubbled cheek. James’ hand comes up to hold his.

A mixture of confusion and amusement crosses James’ face as he asks, “What are you doing here?”

Now Regulus is even more confused. He takes a step back and gestures to the apron around his waist with the logo on it, and it seems to dawn on James then.

“You... work here.” He’s making a face, one Regulus doesn’t understand.

“Yeah,” he says, suddenly feeling insecure. He knows James has a fancy office job, pretty settled with his life in general, while Regulus is in between things, not sure, really, where he’s going in life. It didn’t really hit him that it was going to be an issue until now. He must be making a face, because James quickly recovers and moves toward him.

“Hey, no, I–”

“Dad!” Harry rounds the counter, outerwear on and bag slung over his shoulder, and Regulus’ brain glitches, overheats, crashes, and reboots.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

Harry must’ve picked up on the vibes because he stops a few steps short of them and eyes them warily, gaze shifting back and forth between them questioningly. “What’s going on…?”

“Dad,” Regulus’ malfunctioning brain manages. 

“I told you about my son, remember?” James sounds stilted, mechanical, like the whole ordeal is as mortifying to him as it is to Regulus.

“Uhh… what?” Comes Harry’s response, which goes ignored. “What is this?”

“You told me about your baby.”

“Yes,” James nods, color returning to his face.

“No…” Harry looks increasingly distraught, shaking his head. “Dad, you did not!” He rounds on his… father. 

Regulus is going to be sick.

“James,” Regulus manages steadily. “That is not a baby.”

Harry is making wounded noises and gagging in the background.

“I’m his father, he’ll always be my baby.”

Regulus shakes his head, pointing to his annoying co-worker, who has now taken to throwing himself to the floor in a dramatic flurry and crying out, Someone has to kill me. I refuse to live another day!

“That is a grown man.” Despite what his current antics suggest.

James smiles sheepishly, poking Harry with his shoe, urging him to get up.

Dorcas comes out then, scarf in hand, and takes one look at Harry on the floor, dry-heaving on the tiles, and the mortifying looks on Regulus’ and James’ faces, and everything clicks immediately. 

“Oh, this is gold!”

[ecstarry]

tenderness is in the hands ― Carolyn Forché, L’Avventura (1960), Ocean Vuong, The White Ribbon (2009), Hart Crane, Gelatin Silver, Love (2009), Ingeborg Bachmann, Les amants du Pont-Neuf (1991), Sylvia Plath, Psycho (1960), Rod McKuen (stills by @forhandsthatsuffer)

[ecstarry]

something sooo delicious about james going a bit braindead when reg wears a packer. like they're in public and james is really trying to control himself, but. every time his eyes drop to reg's bulge his mouth is watering and his vision goes a bit spotty. so he's dragging regulus off to some corner to press searing kisses down his neck. and he's whining into his ear about how desperately he needs reg inside of him while he feels him up, grinding his palm down and rubbing over his crotch and grabbing at him like he just cant help himself.

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like imagine already being lightheaded from blood loss and a vampire just quietly laughing all “oh, don’t tell me you’re into this?” because. Well