#black brothers

[cryingoverdeadgaywizzards]

Sirius getting in trouble and McGonagall not calling his parents because Sirius was disowned, but also not calling the Potters because they had to take care of talking to James.

So, she decides to bring Regulus to her office and just let him yell at Sirius.

[managone16]

Regulus: James' birthday is coming up. Sirius: Yeah, we planned something for him- Regulus: I'm gonna propose to him. Sirius: Oh. Propose what? Regulus: No, sirius, I'm gonna propose to him. Sirius: Like, propose a business deal with him? Regulus: No, i'm going to ask him to marry me. Sirius: Your-YOU'RE GONNA PROPOSE TO HIM?!? You aren't even dating!! Regulus: Regulus: We've been dating for 2 years. Did James not tell you?! He told me he told you!! Sirius: NO?! Regulus: Sirius: Regulus: I'm gonna kill him. Sirius: Oh, So am I.

[izzyarden]

basically how that happened

Sirius: I hate my last name

James: oh, padfoot, do you want my parents to adopt you and we can share my last name then?

Regulus: I hate my last name too

James: marry me

[julias-starry-world]

"there's only one more phase to the heist! Then James and reg can live together and have 7 cats and 2 dogs"

I said with joys.

I was then shot 57 times.

[godricgryffinsnore]

Blackened Obsession ♡ : A Regulus Black Fan Fiction.

pairing : bestfriend!Regulus x female!reader

summary : A dark and obsessive romance between Regulus Black and his childhood best friend—a Malfoy heiress who defies pure-blood expectations. Jealousy ignites into raw, unrelenting passion, blurring the lines between devotion and destruction.

warnings : Obsession, possessiveness, detailed smut, fingering, deep-throating, orgasm denial, power imbalance, rough sex, degradation, and unhealthy devotion. Minors DNI. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3. THIS IS AN 18+ FAN FICTION. PLEASE DO NOT ENTER IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE OR IF YOU ARE A MINOR!!!

Word Count : 1.8k

main master list <3

request by ☎️ : Regulus black x pureblood slytherin reader (she could be a malfoy/lestrange/rosier, or whatever you want) childhood friends to lovers. Reader is pureblood and is fine with maintaining it, but isn't against befriending muggles. Reg is possessive and obsessed with her. She's oblivious to his love. Sirius starts flirting with the reader and she just teases back (not realizing reg is getting even more jealous by the minute) PLEASEE gimmie me heavy angst and dark writing. (I’d ask for smut but idk if you write it)

della's note : HEY ANON!!! This is your awaited request. I had TOO much writing this. And now I hope you have too much fun reading this. I HOPE I REACH YOUR EXPECTATIONS ANON. <333

banner : @shitpostdevil

You were a Malfoy.

Lucius’ sister. The glacial jewel of a bloodline polished into perfection—a fine-bred Slytherin thoroughbred, all marble skin and aristocratic grace. You were meant to be cold. Untouchable. You were meant to keep your chin high, your blood pure, and your hands clean.

But you had been born wrong. Because you smiled at muggle-borns. You sat beside half-bloods in Charms and didn’t wipe your hands clean after. You were soft when you were meant to be cruel. Merciful where you should have been merciless.

And Regulus both loved and despised you for it.

You were his from childhood. In the dirt and the darkness of Black Manor’s gardens, you were the only light that didn’t burn. You were his sanctuary in a house of ruin, soft hands and bright eyes—always looking at him as though he was something worthy of devotion.

But then you grew up. And you let men like Sirius put their hands on you. You let them look at you the way only he was allowed to look.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

The party was suffocating. Thick with smoke and firewhisky, a blur of laughter and blurred limbs. But none of it touched Regulus.

No—his entire world had narrowed to you. And Sirius.

You were in the far corner of the Slytherin common room, lounging back against the green velvet armchair, one hand clutching a half-empty goblet of wine, the other playfully swatting at Sirius’ arm. Your hair was loose around your shoulders, careless and beautiful, and your lips were painted a wicked shade of red.

Sirius was beside you, sprawled with his usual arrogance, all smirking teeth and half-lidded eyes, his fingers toying with the ends of your hair. You threw your head back when he said something particularly crass, your throat bared to him in a burst of laughter.

And Regulus wanted to rip him apart.

He sat in the shadows, a full goblet of firewhisky in his hand, but he didn’t drink it. He only watched. His grip was tight enough to make the glass tremble slightly in his palm. His knuckles were bone-white, skin stretched taut over the fine ridges of bone.

And you—you were utterly oblivious. You tilted your head, leaning into Sirius’ space, and whispered something against the curve of his ear, your lips barely brushing his skin.

Regulus’ throat burned with the weight of it. The phantom touch of your mouth on his brother’s neck—his blood—clawed at his chest.

And then, as though the universe had conspired to destroy him, Sirius tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheekbone with deliberate slowness. His eyes were half-lidded, lazy and wanting, and he smiled at you like he could have you.

No. No.

Regulus’ breath hitched—sharp and uneven. His chest ached with the force of it, with the effort to keep himself seated, to keep from crossing the room and dragging you away from his brother’s hands.

You were still smiling at Sirius when Regulus stood. You didn’t even notice.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

Later, you found him in the empty corridor outside the common room.

He was leaning against the stone wall, half-shadowed, sleeves rolled to his elbows, collar undone, his dark hair wild and unkempt. His tie was gone, and the top few buttons of his shirt were carelessly undone, exposing the pale ridge of his collarbone.

He looked like a man ruined. And he was.

You smiled softly when you spotted him. Still drunk on Sirius’ hands. Still oblivious.

“Running away from the party again?” you teased, your voice soft and lilting. You took a step toward him, your wine-blurred grin still playing on your lips.

But he didn’t smile. He only stared.

There was something dangerous in his eyes—something you had never seen before. His pupils were blown black, almost swallowing the grey whole, and his chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths.

You faltered slightly. “Reg?” you whispered softly, your voice more cautious now.

But he didn’t answer. He only closed the distance.

His hand caught your wrist halfway. The grip was firm—possessive.

You let out a soft, startled breath. “Hey,” you murmured, blinking up at him, confused.

But he wasn’t confused. He was furious.

He lifted your hand slowly, turning it over in his own, tracing the delicate bone of your wrist with his thumb. His breath hitched softly when he spotted the faint smudge of Sirius’ thumbprint on your skin.

And then, softly—almost reverently—he whispered: “You let him touch you.”

Your lips parted slightly, blinking. “Reg, I—”

But he didn’t let you finish. His other hand slid into your hair, fingers tangling at the base of your skull, and he tilted your face toward his. His breath ghosted over your mouth, barely brushing your lips.

“You let him touch you,” he repeated, voice trembling with something far more violent than rage. “Did you like it?”

“Reg, no—”

But he didn’t believe you. He kissed you before you could lie to him again.

It was rough and unrelenting—teeth and tongue and ruin. His hand fisted in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he devoured your mouth. You gasped softly into him, and he swallowed the sound greedily, his fingers tightening just enough to make you whimper.

You barely noticed when he dragged you into his dormitory.

The door slammed shut behind you.

You barely had time to draw breath before Regulus was on you, his mouth searing against yours with the weight of his fury. Teeth and tongue and desperation, his lips bruising your own with the force of it.

His hands were shaking. Trembling slightly as they fisted in your hair, pulling you closer—too close, not close enough.

When you gasped softly, he swallowed the sound with a growl, bruising your lips with the force of his kiss. Your back hit the stone wall, and you whimpered softly at the chill against your spine.

But he didn’t let you catch your breath. No. He kissed you harder.

His mouth dragged down your throat—biting and punishing—until he was nipping at the delicate skin below your jaw, his breath hot and uneven against you.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” he rasped against your throat, his voice low and guttural, half a growl. His hands were already at your blouse, fingers trembling faintly as he tore it open, the buttons scattering like falling stars.

You shook your head faintly, eyes wide and dazed, but he only laughed softly—darkly.

“Liar.” His lips brushed your ear. “You liked making me watch.”

You let out a soft, startled whimper when his hand slipped between your thighs, cupping you through your skirt. His touch was rough, demanding, unyielding.

“Dripping for me already, huh?” he sneered softly, fingers pressing down just hard enough to make you gasp. “You’re filthy, darling.”

Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, hips arching slightly into his touch, but he suddenly stilled. And smiled. Dark. Cruel.

“Ah, ah. Not yet.”

He ripped your skirt open with a low snarl, the fabric tearing beneath his fingers. His eyes—dark and lidded, blackened with lust—flickered over the sight of you.

And then he dropped to his knees. Before you. Worshiping.

He slid your ruined skirt down your thighs, his breath hot against your skin. His lips brushed the delicate flesh above your knee, and he smiled against it when you shuddered softly.

“You’ll beg for me,” he rasped against your skin, voice wrecked. “You’ll scream for me.” He pressed his lips against your inner thigh, hot and lingering. “But not yet.”

His fingers traced over your soaked panties, just barely ghosting over the damp fabric, making you shiver. You whined softly, hips shifting toward him, but he stilled you with a warning glance.

“Patience.” The word was a low, sharp command, dripping with authority.

And then, slowly—so painfully slowly—he dragged the soaked fabric down your thighs. You whimpered softly when his breath ghosted over your dripping cunt, your hips twitching faintly, but he only smiled darkly.

“Already so wet for me, love?” he rasped softly, his lips brushing your inner thigh. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

And then—without warning—he licked a slow, torturous stripe over your slit. You gasped sharply, fingers tangling in his hair, hips arching toward his mouth.

But he suddenly pulled back, leaving you trembling and wanting. Soaked and empty.

You let out a frustrated whimper, hips jerking slightly toward him, but he gripped your thighs and pinned you to the wall.

“Beg.” The word was guttural—barely human. “Beg me, or you get nothing.”

Your fingers tightened in his hair, your breath uneven and desperate. “R-Reg, please—”

But he shook his head slowly, his silver eyes blackened with cruelty. “Not good enough.”

His breath was hot against your dripping slit, so close it ached. “Say it properly. Say: please let me come, Regulus.”

Your legs were trembling slightly, your chest heaving with uneven, desperate breaths. You were so fucking close.

And he knew it. The bastard knew it.

“Please—” your voice was barely a whimper, raw with desperation. “Please, Regulus, let me come.”

And he smiled. Cruel. Devastating.

“No.”

And then he dragged his tongue slowly over your slit again—slow, teasing, cruel. But he didn’t let you have it. Didn’t give you enough.

“You don’t deserve it.” His voice was low, wrecked, and unforgiving. “You let him touch you.”

And then—in one swift motion—he pulled you away from the wall and pushed you down to your knees.

“Open your mouth.” The words were low and hoarse, barely above a growl.

You obeyed without hesitation, lips parting, eyes half-lidded with desperation. Your hands trembling slightly as you reached for his belt, unbuckling it with shaky fingers.

And when you freed him, he gripped your hair in both hands, guiding himself between your lips. He didn’t go slow. He didn’t let you adjust.

He thrust deep into your throat, making you gag softly, your nails biting into his thighs. “Fuck, yes—” he hissed through his teeth, hips snapping forward, holding you still.

You were drooling down your chin, wrecked and dazed, and he loved it. He fucked your mouth relentlessly, barely letting you breathe, his groans low and guttural as he hit the back of your throat.

When your nails raked over his hips, he let out a broken groan, eyes wild and half-lidded with desperation.

And then—finally, mercifully—he pulled you up by the wrists. Dragged you back to the wall.

And he was inside you before you could catch your breath.

He slammed into you, raw and unforgiving, dragging you down onto him with a low, guttural growl. “Mine,” he rasped brokenly, “all mine.”

And when you came—shuddering and wrecked around him—he didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, rough and unyielding, until you were gasping and trembling, a ruined, wrecked thing in his arms.

Only then—when he was sure you were utterly spent—did he finally fall apart with you, his teeth biting into your shoulder, groaning brokenly into your skin.

And afterward, he held you tightly against his chest, his face buried in your neck, his breath uneven and trembling.

“You’re mine,” he rasped hoarsely, voice barely more than a whisper. “Forever.”

And you knew you would never escape him. You didn’t want to.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

[dorasoracle]

imagine flying trapeze regulus black just imagine

he is a famous trapeze artist under an art name ( IM THINKING IT IS ICARUS BUT THIS IS NOT IMPORTANT ) .

He works in a circus called ' Oracle's Carnival ' ( there Barty is a Illusionist, Pandora a contortionist , Evan is also a trapeze artist, and Dorcas is the director ) , and one day sirius with the rest of the marauders go to see the show and HE RECOGNISES HIS BROTHER. FLYING IN FRONT OF HIM.

[deswhomst]

post prank sirius who, on pure accident, reconnected with regulus because misery loves company. post prank sirius who went to the next gryffindor vs slytherin match dressed in green and silver (the marauders assumed he was being petty but he was there for his brother). post prank regulus who lost the match but it didn’t matter to him because for the first time since he started playing, his brother was supporting him and cheering on him.

[marauder-aesthetics]

~ Trans Regulus Headcanons ~

Dysphoria - Chest - Body in general - Voice - How he walks - Thighs - Curves/Hips - Face shape - How he laughs - Eyes

Euphoria - Being called he - "My brother," - Any masculine words - Being called handsome - Masculine words in love languages - People assuming he's a guy

Coming Out Regulus had a crush on James before he came out. James came out as bisexual before Regulus came out. Regulus was so confused why he was so relieved that James liked boys too, when he wasn't a boy. He was ranting about this to Barty, when Barty shrugged and casually said, "Sounds like you're trans, mate," and Regulus had a full on identity crisis. He came out a month later, to Sirius, and Sirius hugged him, whispering that he'd always be a boy in his eyes.

Sexuality Regulus thought he was bisexual for a long time after he came out as trans. Eventually, after getting with James, Regulus came out as gay. He realized when he was talking to James, who is bisexual, about bisexuality, and Regulus realized that the way that James talked about liking girls was nothing like the way Regulus felt.

Comment your own headcanons!

[ricochetyears]

voltage surge! read on ao3.

ac: evyltalks

[jamie-potters]

affluenza by conan gray, is so black brothers/blacksisters coded

[zer0brainc3lls]

Oh ok.

Ok guys walk with me

The year Sirius ran away, him and Remus went public. Naturally, word got around to Regulus. At first, he was SO excited because “holy shit, Sirius is like me” and thought maybe talking about them both being gay could repair their bond.

He went up to Sirius and asked if it was true that him and Remus were dating. Only for Sirius to immediately assume Regulus was asking because he had a problem with it. Sirius, being Sirius, went all “oh of course you’d be angry about me having a boyfriend” and told Regulus about how he was just like the rest of their family.

A few months later, Sirius finds out about Regulus and James and gets really confused by how he never realized Regulus was gay. He finally decides to ask Regulus why he never told Sirius he was gay. Regulus looks him dead in the eyes and without even a HINT of emotion says

“I tried”.

[selmasdaydreams]

“it hurts to be something, it’s worse to be nothing with you” is so black brothers after Sirius ran away

[moonyswarmsweaters]

Sirius: Have a good day!

Regulus: Don't tell me what to do.

[ariannabananasstuff]

i always forget grimmauld place is like

grim-old-place

yknow?

[chitakkki]

[regulusseolar]

what if i start to hc the black family as french/mexican. because of this there definitely some colorism of what the perfect image for the family should look like.

walburga out of her siblings is the only one that ends up with a light brown skin tone. this makes the family and other pureblooded families underestimate her. and while she probably already facing challenges as a woman in the black family, she really does try to conform in ways. she tries to excel in her studies, she tries to follow the family customs, and even avoiding the sun to try to minimize any sort of tanning.

i think she quickly learnt that no matter how much she tried it was never enough. she just felt so stuck. even if she tried to rebel, she had nothing to lean back on, and she already sacrificed so much of herself. so what was the point?

when they paired her with orion, they had hoped that with his pale complexion their kids would come out the same. so when sirius came, she felt a relief when she saw the pale tone. he was the perfect heir the family was hoping for to pass the black name. but when regulus was born, he ended up with the same complexion as walburga.

as regulus and sirius grew up, the difference of how they were treated did not pass by regulus. walburga watched as parallels of her child self and gave him the harsh reality. he was going to have to try harder. he was going to have to try to be the best at nearly everything. he needed to mold himself into the perfect black image (or as perfect as it can be). with all that, he also needed to learn it will likely never be enough.

this is what causes the the slow growing barrier between him and sirius as the time passes. especially with how sirius rebels so much. despite how much sirius outcasted himself in the family, he was still given some leeway in hopes he’d grow out of it. all regulus could see is how everything was basically handed to him on a silver platter and he was wasting it. even if deep down he knew that there is so much wrong with their family, it still hits him. it’s those moments when he truly understood their mother. she especially sacrificed so much for them. for regulus. so when sirius asked him to run away with him, he couldn’t stomach it. he couldn’t throw all of the his hard work. and most importantly, he felt as though he couldn’t leave walburga behind after all she went through.