#the wheels would come right off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

envy-of-the-apple · 3 months ago

Text

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV.

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep.

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates.

And you were just extra baggage.

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted.

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you.

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did.

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space.

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you.

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day."

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider.

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all.

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak.

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever.

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?"

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys.

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back."

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders.

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob.

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out.

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise."

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being.

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them.

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other."

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could."

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left.

Satoru appears first.

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting.

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream.

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry.

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes.

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?"

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-"

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat.

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms.

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you."

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair.

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to.

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay."

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused.

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?"

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter."

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it.

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word."

He freezes. You smile at Utahime.

"Could you give us some time?" You ask.

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you.

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room.

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him.

"For what?"

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories.

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry."

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-"

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up.

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker.

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves.

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did."

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you."

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again.

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick.

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru."

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter.

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying.

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay.

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him.

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone.

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer."

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed.

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't."

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship.

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand.

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better."

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip.

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now."

"You haven't even given us a chance to-"

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods.

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house."

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare.

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort.

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you.

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not."

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you.

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes.

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic."

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her.

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown.

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around.

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?"

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes.

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends."

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs.

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue.

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side.

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better."

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better.

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared.

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure.

And so did Suguru.

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first.

"How have you been?" He asks nicely.

"Good." You respond. "You?"

"Good."

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long.

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school."

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter.

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not.

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh.

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable.

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same."

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine."

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were."

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to.

But now, you don't have that desire anymore.

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest.

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly."

Suguru frowns, troubled.

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-"

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable."

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place."

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift.

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that."

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru."

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately.

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?"

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole.

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you.

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours.

"I love you."

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse.

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't.

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding.

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet.

He's miserable.

You did this. This was all you.

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him."

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru.

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better.

"It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal."

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this.

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset.

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought.

"But what?" You press.

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face.

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out."

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation.

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?"

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach.

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her.

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long.

"You'll see!" You chirp back.

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later.

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise."

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'.

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy.

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought.

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass.

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you."

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!"

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore."

Shoko freezes mid-sip.

"What?" She asks.

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-"

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?"

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again."

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces.

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal.

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand."

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-"

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time.

"Oh." You breathe.

"Oh." Utahime whispers.

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass.

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?"

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!"

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle."

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties."

"I thought we were just doing friend things!"

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified.

"I-I-" You give up.

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot.

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes.

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko.

"Do you want us?"

You take a deep breath.

You nod.

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely.

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more.

You break away, panting.

"You good?" She asks.

You nod.

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now."

"What?"

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses.

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks."

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit.

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh.

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?"

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy.

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy."

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next.

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation.

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you."

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy.

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes.

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?"

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush.

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet."

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself.

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm.

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair.

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight.

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime.

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue.

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go."

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams.

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always."

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep.

Shoko slaps your thigh.

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face."

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much.

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them.

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper.

"Awake?" She asks.

"Yeah." You softly say back.

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch.

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist.

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes.

"I'm gonna get food."

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you.

"What do you want?" She prompts.

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door.

The interaction makes your heart warm.

Still, it can't last.

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist.

"And where are you going?" She prods.

You fumble. "Back to my room?"

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now."

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?"

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?"

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine."

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly.

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder."

You laugh.

"That's not a joke." She warns.

"I know." And you kiss her again.

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place.

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up.

Everything was just perfect.

And then, it just wasn't.

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled.

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone.

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold.

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay?

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it.

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about?

The living room is horrific.

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels.

Suguru doesn't even blink.

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal.

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?"

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth.

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition."

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos.

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands.

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that."

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting.

But you know you aren't expecting...that.

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore.

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them."

You step back. They step forward.

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far.

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-"

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already."

He smiles again.

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores."

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete.

The worst part is that everything was your fault.

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak.

"I'm sorry."

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions.

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two."

Satoru halts. You caught him.

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder.

"You missed us?" He wonders.

The lie feels like sand.

"More than anything."

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry.

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault."

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much.

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh.

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms.

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands.

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance.

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry.

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat.

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed."

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here.

"I'm sorry," you say anyway.

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer.

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells.

And then, he grins.

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely.

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore.

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much.

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness.

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you.

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you.

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share.

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments.

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs.

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

#yandere jjk #yandere #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark content #yandere gojo satoru #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere jjk x reader #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto suguru x reader #dark geto suguru #shoko ieiri x reader #utahime x reader #yandere satosugu #dark satosugu #yandere scenarios #shokohime x reader

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mecachrome · 5 months ago

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notes from nicole piastri's interview on red flags pod

oscar started playing monopoly and chess when he was 4-5 but he was too good at chess (relative to nicole) that she boycotted it

nicole opened her twitter account because oscar wasn't replying to her at boarding school and she needed a place to chastise him ("can you not answer... i KNOW you're on your phone") (it worked because he started replying to her there)

instead of unflappable she calls him "conservative"

even during christmas and birthdays he was never super excited, one time they went with a group of 5 mums and 5 kids to a hi-5 concert (popular australian kids' musical group) and while all the kids were "going nuts" oscar just sat there "focused the whole time" and didn't smile or move lmfao. they were like 3 years old

didn't know what she was doing with oscar as a baby because he was her first child and her mothers' group was her only reference and they went "isn't the best part of the day when you wake up and go to their crib and they smile at you?" and she was like ??? because oscar would wake up and just SCREAM every single day needing to be out of there immediately and she thought that was just normal... then she had the girls and went "ahhhh... so that's what they're talking about"

when he was younger than 2 he needed them to read car magazines to him and was already obsessed with all things automotive and while they were driving would just name off and point out car brands by their badges

for a long period of time he behaved like he was a car and would "spin" his wheels and pretend to accelerate and run like a car lol

did a big burnout the first time he was on a bike (it had training wheels but he still learned very early)

as a mum she wishes he'd chosen golf or tennis since it's much safer than f1 and sometimes people tell her that she technically had a say in that when he was a kid and she said "but i didn't! it was just in him!!!"

won an academic award when he was 13 and she was president of the parents' community so she presented it to him, normally these events are super formal and you simply shake hands but she gave him a big kiss and instead of acting embarrassed or spluttering he looked at the crowd, nodded silently, and walked off

came back for the summer a few years ago and they were biking on the beach together when she had to brake hard to avoid a kid and went over, when she recovered and got back on he went "are you all right?" very deadpan but after they got home they checked his heart rate monitor and saw that he was totally steady the whole time except for when she crashed and his heart rate went through the roof, told him "ah so you do have a heart... we just don't see it"

"there's no sibling that can piss him off?" "well he's a boy with three girls so he just doesn't go there because he's never going to win"

met lily in person for the first time when he came home for the melbourne grand prix (was still alpine reserve), at midnight oscar was like "hey mum you know the dts film crew are coming tomorrow morning right?" and she was like WHAT... and he was like yeah it'll be chill they just want to film us having breakfast like a normal family or whatever and she was like Mate you haven't lived here for 5 years now do you know what breakfast looks like. it looks like your sisters storming downstairs and grabbing an inappropriate breakfast and storming out the door giving me the finger!!! and then the next morning lily comes down and nicole is like "oh is oscar up?" and lily is like no... i think he's still in bed... (many such cases) and then mae refused to be in it so she got dressed and ran off to school 2 hours early to escape them. and then the mclaren fiasco happened and the whole thing got cut out of dts anyway

when she said "oh my god you met matt damon!" he was just like (shrugs) "yeah... yeah..."

they communicate by facetiming and he's Always lying in bed. one time in bahrain he was leaning back on an ornate tapestry and she asked what hotel he was staying at and he was like oh i'm at the royal palace i'm like a guest of the crown prince. she freaked out and was like "oh my god!!! get your head off the tapestry!!!" and he just looked back like ? no it's fine it looks pretty old lol

called her to tell her that he signed his f1 contract and when he said mclaren she Realized and was like oh no i love daniel!! and he straight up deadpanned "yeah everyone loves daniel. that's going to be a problem..." and said verbatim "of all the f1 drivers ever daniel is the worst one to be replacing"

one time in f4 chris couldn't go to a race and billy monger had just had his crash so she flew to the uk for the weekend to support him and when she was driving him back to boarding school she was happy because she had 2 hours to spend with him and she wasn't sure when she'd see him again but instead he slept the whole way through and the moment they got back to school he went "ahhhh... home sweet home" and she wanted to slap him lmfao

first day of primary school when he was 5 years old he said he didn't need her to walk him to school and she was like "well i actually do mate" so he forced her to walk behind him the whole way and the moment they got there he turned to her and went "all right i'm here you can go now" 😭

the chinese & italian & yugoslavian is on chris's side of the family while nicole's is scottish & irish ("that's where the pasty skin comes from")

red flags pod sent her a shirt with oscar's face composed of His Tweet and she showed it to him and he immediately said he wanted it

he gave her a small warning before he posted the tweet but it was just like "mum so this is going to happen just don't worry about it. it's all under control. it'll be fine" and was very calm the whole time

"we just had to trust that his personality would come through at some point, because the way he came across was not at all what he's like. people will work out who the real you is so just continue to do what you do" 🥺

all of the kids were obsessed with Cars (2006)

likes his mum's golden syrup dumplings and grandmother's rumballs

AT THE SINGAPORE GP IN 2023 HATTIE DISAPPEARED FOR HOURS TO GO SEE A K-POP CONCERT 😭😭😭😭 i think it was p1h lmfao (nicole was asked for her favorite group and went "i have no idea. five boys") ((it's txt)) meanwhile oscar is only into house music and she thinks everything he plays is the same song

did pilates when he went home but never with her and thinks it's a lot harder than it looks

takes him minimum 24 hours to respond to anything she sends

she had an exact conversation with oscar where she asked who he wanted to be teammates with and he said "well if i go up against lando i don't even have to get close the first year because everyone knows how good he is" 😭

oscar you are so you 🧡

#listening to podcasts on 2.5x speed is my passion #oscar piastri #text #*m #op meta

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kyseya · 4 months ago

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You reap what you sow

Yandere farm brothers x f.reader

—————-

Just your typical luck, your car had suddenly broken down in the middle of nowhere. What will you do now? You can’t stay there, there’s no food or water available. Luckily, you hadn’t run out of recourses just yet but it was very close to being gone.

You stepped out of the car and went around it, staring it down with waves of irritation rolling off you. You tried coming up with a plan. The next stop was miles away and it was nothing but a daydream that you’d be able to make it there on foot.

Right as you were about to give up and let the animals take you, the sound of wheels on gravel caught your attention. Turning around, you saw another car speeding towards you. Yes! You were saved! You waved at the person in the car and luckily enough it stopped. ‘I’m gonna pray it’s not Michael Meyers lost cousin or something.’

The door to the passenger side opened and you spotted a man sitting behind the wheel. He was young, around your age, probably a little older perhaps. He had dark brown hair and equally dark eyes. You instantly noticed a scar below his left eye as you glanced at his face. You had to admit, he was very handsome; in a rugged type of way. You couldn’t help but eye how his plain shirt hugged all the muscles on his body. You mentally slapped yourself, ‘Geez (Y/n), you’re here to ask for help not ogle him like the last piece of cake at the party!’

“Your car broke down?” He asked, looking at the worthless piece of junk that had decided to betray you just minutes ago.

“Yeah, it did.” You scratched the back of your head in slight embarrassment. “I couldn’t trouble you for a ride, could I?” He was quiet for a moment, in which you hastily added, “Not for long! Just so I can get proper help from a mechanic. I won’t be a bother I promise.”

The man nodded. “Alright then, hop in.”

Your eyes lit up at his response. You gladly took a seat beside him and thanked him again for his help. “Thank you so much. You’re literally saving my life.”

He nodded once more. Guess he wasn’t much of a talker. Well not that it mattered much. You’d only stick around until you got to a town and found someone who could fix your vehicle. You didn’t have to be all buddy-buddy with each other. You only had to be happy he didn’t seem to want to kill you and hang your organs like Christmas ornaments. The chance of you meeting again was down to basically zero.

Or that’s what you thought, but life has a funny way of messing with you. It must have a grudge against you or else you wouldn’t be seated in the same position you were previously, only it being about 3 hours later. The drive to the nearest town was long(you definitely wouldn’t have made it by walking) and when you got there, you found out the one mechanic they had was out of town.

You thought you were going to have to spend the night in a bush, but you were pleasantly surprised to have your muscular helper offer a nights stay at his farm. You were grateful(once more) and also confused. Why was he being so nice to you when he didn’t have any reason to? It didn’t make sense. The two of you had just met, plus that you’ve only spoken a number of times and none of the conversations were noteworthy.

It was after you accepted you got to know his name, Weston. It fit him quite well, you thought. He told you there was a spare room you could use. It would be further away from his, to offer you some sort of privacy. He also mentioned there was one other person living on the farm, his younger brother. If he annoyed you, you could just tell him off, Weston said to you.

Your butt was sore from all the sitting, both in your own car but also from this little trip. The sky darkened and the sun had nearly completely disappeared when you finally arrived at the farm. It looked like you imagined. There was a large house which you assumed was the main house. Behind it was a big, red barn. You thought you could hear the faint sounds of animals.

Climbing out of the car, you glanced expectantly at your host, waiting for his initiative. You didn’t want to be rude and march right up to the house. As you were waiting, another figure came into view. He was much like his older brother, with brown hair and eyes to match. He was smiling at the both of you, although you caught a slight suspicion towards you.

“Who’s the new kid?” He asked his sibling, who gave him a rundown of what’s happened. You were a bit annoyed at how he called you ‘kid’, you were very much a grown person. And he’s one to talk, you were sure he was younger than you, even through all that brawn. He wasn’t as tall as Weston but he was no joke either. The younger brother looked at you with sympathy, “Really? Well that’s unfortunate. What’re you gonna do now that the mechanic’s gone- since you need him I’m guessing you don’t exactly know how to fix cars.”

You sighed, “I’m not sure yet. I’ll come up with something tomorrow. I’m too tired from all the driving and thinking.”

“Alright, I get it. I’m Lucas by the way.”

You shook his hand. “(Y/n), and thank you for having me. You’re really saving me here.”

“Haha, well Weston likes to pretend he’s heartless, but he’s really just a giant teddy bear.” Lucas said and smirked as he received a glare from the ‘teddy bear’.

“Come in (Y/n), I’ll show you your room.” Weston led you into the house.

Right as you stepped over the threshold, you felt a slight chill. Something felt wrong. You turned around to see Lucas’ beaming face. He tilted his head in confusion.

“Everything good?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. You’d gotten the impression that he’s a chill guy, but now you started wondering if you’d made the wrong choice.

“N-no, everything’s great!”

There was no turning back now, you thought as you descended deeper into the house.

It was unfortunate that every time you followed one of the brothers into town again, for supplies and other things, the mechanic was never there. Sadly it seemed like his vacation wasn’t over yet which meant no way home for you. However, you didn’t have it so bad. The brothers had been kind enough to let you keep staying with them at their farm.

Honestly it was pretty good there. Sure, it wasn’t what you were used to, but some change of scenery was good for you. Not wanting to appear lazy, you helped them to the best of your ability around the farm. You couldn’t lift heavy things like they could even if you really put your back into it, and you certainly didn’t trust yourself to milk the cows; something you could do was cook! It’d become a routine for them to do their work during the day and you’d make them lunch and then dinner in the evenings. You’d never seen yourself as a homemaker, though this was kind of fun. Maybe it was the heat poking your brain or it was that you genuinely enjoyed their company.

Besides, it was really nice looking out the kitchen window and catching a glimpse of them at work. You weren’t proud, but it did something for you. The way droplets of sweat ran down their backs, not in a gross way though, in an appealing manner. During the instances they took of their shirts, you got a front row seat to see the muscles in action. You now knew Lucas had stone-hard abs and that Weston had a very nice back.

Despite the fun in getting to know both of them individually, there were some things you couldn’t deny making you uncomfortable. For example, there was the curfew. That one had a good explanation; there were wild animals sometimes running around and they didn’t want you to get hurt. That made perfect sense! Though you couldn’t shake off that one time you couldn’t sleep and had gone outside on the porch for some air. You were just relaxing and looking at the bright stars when shouting woke you up more than your insomnia. Lucas had come rushing towards you in panic. He’d frantically asked you what you were doing up. You responded honestly and he slowly calmed down. He said you shouldn’t go out by yourself anymore. If you can’t sleep you can see the stars perfectly from the living room window, or better yet, you can come to one of their rooms instead.

Then there was the room furthest back in the barn. Although it could be excused as well, they told you that’s where they slaughtered the animals. But you could swear you heard something from inside, something that doesn’t sound at all like a cow, a pig or a chicken. Suspicion arose in you, but fear held you in a chokehold and prevented you from investigating. However nice they were to you, there was no way you’d risk pissing them off. Especially since the mechanic still wasn’t back which meant you had no way to escape, if it would be necessary.

Lucas had been right, Weston wasn’t as scary as he seemed in the beginning. Sure, he was a bit rough around the edges but he had sweet moments too. Once during one of your little adventures on the porch, Weston had suddenly appeared by your side, giving you a scare. He apologised and asked why you were out. You were worried he would get angry considering you’d just recently had the ‘no more going out’- conversation with Lucas. To your surprise he chuckled at your nervous demeanor and did not reprimand you. He told you that in his opinion, Lucas was too paranoid for his own good and sometimes didn’t know when to stop. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, though you probably shouldn’t wander off the porch after dark. Better to be safe than sorry, right? Afterwards he declared he’s going to bed before wrapping you in a blanket, you didn’t even notice he had it with him until he turned you into a burrito. He was very sweet in his own way, you realised. From then on you paid more attention to the affection he undoubtedly showed. Sometimes it was hard to see, but it was definitely there.

Lucas on the other hand was more open with his affection; pulling you into hugs, asking about your day, petting your hair. All these thing he did daily. He, too, was incredibly sweet. Sometimes it was hard to comprehend that him and Weston shared DNA. They were so different. The only thing confirming their relation was little things how their eyes lit up the same way or how their smiles were similar(if you were fortunate enough to witness Weston smiling, that is). Lucas also had a protective streak. He constantly worried over your safety and wellbeing. Which was kind of nice, when he wasn’t nagging you about it every five seconds.

You better listen to them. It’s all for your best. Because if you don’t, you might end up walking into the barn, and then you might end up finding the remains of the mechanic you’ve been so desperately looking for. And that wouldn’t be very good now, would it?

#yandere imagines #kyseya oc #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #kyseya’s dungeon #yandere #possesive #yandere farmer #yandere farmers #the Callaghan brothers #Lucas Callaghan oc #Weston Callaghan oc #Yandere farm brothers #yandere x reader x yandere #yandere brothers #Yandere brothers x reader #female reader

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fake-bleach · 4 months ago

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ROAD TRIP STOP | LOGAN HOWLETT x READER

taking a small road trip with old man logan where you’re halfway to where you need to be, and you're bored out of your mind. unluckily for you, your boyfriend won't possibly give into your antics.

or, logan fucks you in a gas station bathroom <3

word count: 3.3k

WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS: (18+ only!) fem!reader, porn w/ slight plot lol, piv, unprotected sex, this shit is roughhh, degrading, filthyyy dirty talk, use of pet names, slight choking, coming inside/creampie, manhandling? i guess?, logan refers to himself as "your old man" bc i'm insane, anddd happy ending bc we all know how much i love those! :D

a/n: there aren't nearly enough fics abt old man logan & i need him Badly.

+ logan pictures from @divinesols incredible moodboard <3

ao3 link! | my masterlist

you’re 4 hours into your road trip, and logan, well, being the man he is, hasn’t let you drive a single second.

he tells you that you can just sit there n’ look pretty and that’s good enough for him. but, he’s getting tired, and the nearest hotel isn’t for another 50 miles.

you notice his eyes getting heavier, his body slouching more, his grip on the steering wheel loosening. so, you do what you do best. why not have some harmless fun with your old boyfriend?

your hands subtly inch over to his thighs, fingers trailing the clothed skin just above his knee, and he flinches surprisingly, glancing at you for a moment with that tired face of his.

“what are y’doing? huh?” he asks, with a quirk in his eyebrow and his voice rasping more than usual from his fatigue; it only makes it all the more arousing for you.

you grin, your head turned to look up at him with a sly expression. “just waking you up a bit. you’re practically falling asleep here.”

your fingers move upwards now, slowly but surely, and right before you can reach the spot just below his bulge, he sighs out, gripping your hand to lightly push it off of him.

“not here. got another hour left til’ we’re at the hotel. then, we can rest up, baby.”

you pout, looking at him eagerly. “are you even gonna make it there, lo?” you tease, “your eyes are getting heavier, you’re tired.. why don’t you just let me drive?” you attempt, but you’re knocked down the second you try.

he huffs, shaking his head. “don’t you try that shit. you know what m’gonna say to that.”

you groan at that, rolling your eyes fussily as your head turns to look up at the roof of the car. “you’re insufferable,” you sigh out, jokingly, of course. but, you were with logan long enough to know just how stubborn he could be. that he could almost always be.

which means, you knew exactly how to get what you wanted, in more ways than one.

let’s just say this way was more fun, anyway.

you let out an exasperated breath before turning back to face him, your eyes lighting up just slightly before you open up your mouth.

“guess i just gotta..” you trail off, hands now on your body with your fingertips grazing the skin on your chest; roaming around the loose shirt you had on. “..entertain myself for the next hour then..”

logan turns his head to you now, eyes fixing on your hand just long enough to catch you slip it underneath your bra, cupping one of your tits. you let out a low moan as you look into his eyes, fingers rolling the nipple there, and he scoffs.

it’s a sound that has your heart racing immediately.

“you’ve been a good girl so far, sweetheart. would hate for you to switch up when we’re almost fuckin’ there.” he warns you, turning his head back to the road, having seen enough. “don’t you start now. gonna make you regret it.”

a pang of arousal hits you just like that, pussy involuntarily clenching around nothing as he threatens you; a threat that you definitely need to see for yourself.

you merely pout at him again, but his words aren’t enough to stop you. not when you’re just getting started.

your hand leaves your breast, slowly inching down your stomach, then to the waistband of your shorts, all with your eyes still locked on him. you bite your lip as your hand breaches underneath the material, testing the waters before your fingers reach the hem of your panties.

fingertips aching to dip into the wet heat, you anticipate your own touch as your hands lower, but an immediate grasp at your wrist stops you completely, eliciting a gasp from your throat.

mouth falling open in shock, you turn to look at the man responsible with that gruff look on his face, and that snarl from him gives you more than enough of a warning.

you clear your throat, letting out a noise of frustration towards your boyfriend as he all but tosses your hand away carelessly.

“knock. it. off. don’t make me say it again.”

logan nearly growls at you, moving in closer to get right in your face; he isn’t playing around, and you know it.

but, god, does it only encourage you more.

it isn’t until logan’s focus is completely back on the road that you test the waters again; your fingers finally inserting themselves into your soft, warm folds, wet and waiting so impatiently.

it makes you moan, a hushed sound that you try your hardest to bite back from releasing, but you’re evidently unsuccessful.

so, before you know it, the truck is swerving, causing you to pull yourself back to hold onto the sides of the car, anywhere that you could grab onto. the wheels squeal loudly as the high pitch penetrates your ears, and logan makes a harsh u-turn without a second to waste.

“lo! what the fuck!” you exclaim loudly, wild eyes reaching for his own, but it’s no use. he’s dead set in front of him, shaking his head furiously as the white of his knuckles present itself from holding onto the wheel so tightly.

he’s had enough of your shit.

his eyes never leave the road in front of him once, never returning to you. no matter how much you talk or try to get him to respond, he doesn’t budge.

instead, for the next 5 minutes, silence fills the space between you as your eyes shut from your frustration. it’s all you really can do at this point.

but, it’s only when the high screech of the wheels halting and the gear being put into park has your eyes opening again, eyes latching onto the bright lights in front of you.

a gas station, and the convenience store’s white luminescent glass reflecting on logan’s face. he’s out the driver’s side as soon as you can look at him, and before you can process it, he’s dragging you out of the truck, slamming the door shut as he does so.

you scramble against him, fists almost pushing their hardest into his chest as you whine loudly, increasingly dazed and confused.

“logan, what the fuck are you doing?! let go of me!”

you fight against him harder, but there’s nothing stopping him. not now.

he lets out an exasperated breath, his heavy footsteps embedding themselves into the loud gravel beneath them as he drags you along.

“don’t play that shit with me. actin’ like you don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” he practically yells at you in a hushed voice, “you know what the fuck you’re doing.”

“walk.” he orders you instantly, and you don’t hesitate to obey. not when his voice gets like that.

most of all, because it makes your heart pound—pounding in your chest because he’s right. you know what you’re doing.. but, you can’t say you regret it. no, not one bit.

and if he’s gonna make you regret it, you might as well go all out. right?

his grip on your arm is tight as you walk side by side with him, leading you into the gas station with the door open for you. you can’t even acknowledge the cashier from how quick logan swifts the two of you past them; straight towards the bathroom, and it makes you gulp.

it’s too late for anyone to be around, too late for anyone to care, and you know that. but, the thought exhilarates you anyway.

he shoves the door open with a hushed whisper—one that’s almost incoherent as it escapes his lips. “you wanna act like a fucking brat?” he shuts the door hurriedly, shoving your body against the sink, “i’m gonna treat you like a fucking brat.”

you yelp at the sudden movement, his fingers digging themselves into your skin as you cry out at the feeling. it’s rough and brutal and it burns, but it’s so fucking good.

“lo.. lo, please,” you whine as your eyes shut tightly, the overwhelming sensation of his hands on you and his hot breath hitting your skin being too much to handle.

your body is flush against the sink as you attempt to squirm, to try to get him to do something, anything.

that cruel laugh of his fills your ears—quiet yet booming in your head as it sends chills throughout your entire body, eyes flashing open to look at him in the mirror in front of you. “please? please?” logan mocks you, “do y’even know what you’re asking for, baby? nah.. you don’t.”

“you just want..” logan trails off, his hands mindlessly reaching for your shorts, “to get fucked.. like the whore you are.”

without a single warning, he yanks them down along with your panties, and your whines are impossible to stop when the cool air hits your bare skin. when his filthy words are the only thing you can think about.

“can’t keep these pretty hands to yourself, you gotta rile me up to do it for you?” you hear the clank of his belt unbuckling, the zipper of his jeans sliding down, “gotta piss me off every goddamn time you get so fucking needy? i mean,” he laughs harder now, “not that i really blame you..”

logan pauses, and his eyes that were once staring directly at you now shift to look straight ahead, latching onto your mirrored reflection instead. as if he was looking right into you now. “pretty girl like you.. would be a shame to let this cunt go to waste. so, i’ll do you a favor..”

your jaw falls open in complete shock as your face contorts, as the tip of his cock breaches your tight hole, making your eyes roll back instantaneously with a sob from your lips.

“i’ll use her real good. for what she’s made for, yeah?”

your hands grip the sink in front of you as tightly as possible, body trembling as logan groans into your ear, his hands on your body never loosening.

instead, his grip only tightens as his hips become flush against your ass, his entire cock piercing you to the hilt with a satisfied moan.

“that was easier this time, wasn’t it? gettin’ used to me now. just needed to..” logan takes a moment to pull himself out of you, the tip resting against your entrance as he groans. he slams himself back inside of you so hard that your body fails you, your hands landing on the mirror to hold yourself up, bent over.

“break her in real fucking good.”

your body shakes against him as you cry out at his intrusion, stammering out a string of noises as your walls involuntarily clench around him over and over again. it’s almost as if you’re rapidly adapting to him; the way he stretches you out so much that it hurts in the best way possible. you’re pulsing around him, increasingly growing wetter by the second as your eyes water from the intense sensation.

your words slur with a few whines of what seem to be logan’s name as your hands move back to the sink, attempting to push yourself back up against him, but he stops you. grabbing one of your hands, he places it right against the mirror again, holding it still as he grinds himself into you. it makes you breathe out rapidly, body bent over the sink completely now.

“keep em’ right there. right fucking there. you don’t get to do that. y’don’t get to make any choices here.” he grunts in your ear, his thick beard grazing along your jaw as his eyes flicker from your face back to the mirror. he notices the way you’re trembling, eyes filled with those pretty tears of yours, and it makes him smile—a chuckle leaving him shamelessly.

he takes a moment to admire you, whispering out, “what i’m gonna do to you, baby..” and it makes your eyes flutter shut, warmth filling your core.

his other hand trails up the front of your body now, and it practically covers you completely because of how big it is—your stomach, your breasts, your chest, then finally, your neck. your gasp is loud; heavy, as his fingers wrap around your throat, holding you still for him.

all of you in the palm of his hand—all in his control.

you moan eagerly as he looks into your eyes through the mirror, grinning almost maliciously, “isn’t this what you wanted?” he laughs, his hips stirring a bit as he agonizingly pulls out of you, making you wince, “you wanted my attention so bad, wanted my cock so fucking bad..” he growls in your ear, his hand sliding from your throat to the back of your neck, pushing you down hard, and it makes you grip onto the side of the sink even more.

“well, now you fucking got it.”

the sound of his rasping grunt hits you first; before you’re sobbing out on his cock, pelvis hammering inside of you with a tight hold on your neck, keeping you there with no chance of stopping, no squirming, no escaping.. no running away from this.

all you can do is take it as he pounds into you, the agonizing ache of his cock sliding in and out of you rapidly increasing the coil in your core, your loud cries and moans enough to make him go harder.

“there you go, there she is..” logan grits out, hands now grasping at your hips, smacking your ass, eliciting a grunt from you, “better fuckin’ hope no one walks in here, or else all they’re gonna see is some whore gettin’ used.”

you cry out as you feel the tip of his cock reach the deepest parts inside of you, nudging your g-spot suddenly as a tear slides down your cheek, your knuckles white from how tight you were grasping at your surroundings. your cheeks grow hot from the idea of that happening, stomach tightening as heat pools your core.

“what’d they think, huh? you think they’d wanna join in on the fun? bet they’d wanna fuck you too after i’m done with you. tightest fuckin’ hole i’ve ever had.”

you whine out now, shaking your head desperately in retaliation as you deny it. you couldn’t ever have another man like this, not now, not ever—only him.

logan sighs out, “no, no, no, i’d never let em’ baby, don’t you worry,” he reassures you, pressing his lips against the top of your head, “this,” he murmurs, his hand reaching to cup the front of your cunt, the rough skin on his palm grazing your clit just enough to make you squeal, “s’all fuckin’ mine. you hear me? not a single soul gets to use her like i can.”

“not like she’d want it anyway. only wants my cock in her. s’the only way she can really be filled up.. fucked stupid and cryin’ for me. ain’t that right? never got fucked by a man like me before y’met me, and i’m sure as hell no one will ever get her trembling like i do.”

you shake your head again, tears continuously spilling out of your eyes as your stomach tightens repeatedly, “n-no, lo, only you—” you stammer out as logan buries himself inside of you to the hilt, plunging into the warm heat of your walls, and he slows, relying on pure power than pace now. the harsh drive of his hips has your head fogging up, so close to reaching your peak with your cunt shuddering.

“ohh, there we go, she’s doing it now. shaking all over this fucking cock, squeezin’ me so tight,” he hisses, “that all you up in this pretty little head, or can you even control it? can’t even control it, can you, baby?”

a string of noises leaves your lips, breathless and mixed with whines and a few tears in your eyes as your core spasms out, his cock hitting deep inside of you repeatedly.

“what was that? can’t really.. understand you, baby, y’gotta speak up..” he teases, a mean laugh escaping his throat, “c’monnn, use your words, really think em’ out, say em’ clearly.”

“c’mon, show me that you’re still my good girl. my good little girl. speak up for your old man, honey.”

you yelp out at his filthy words, “m’.. i c-can’t.. control it, ah!” your moans involuntarily stringing out, eyes fluttering shut and rolling to the back of your head, your pussy convulsing around him intensely. “g-gonna–c-cum, lo, oh—” you spit out, your chest grasping for as much air as possible.

he hums in your ear now, fingers reaching for your clit and fastening tight, harsh circles at it, making you shudder, your cunt throbbing around his cock—pulsating over and over again as you start to see white. “gonna fill you up, sweetheart, gonna make you take it, fuck.”

you can’t even register him anymore as he talks you through it, the “come for me, baby,” muffled in your ears as you listen to him, cunt constricting around him tightly as you soak him, and the sound is filthy as logan chases his release, squelching loudly from your climax.

you let out a muffled sob as logan finally reaches his peak, slamming himself deep inside of you as he holds you there, the spurts of white hot spilling & coating your walls. all you can hear is the ringing in your ears, along with the mixture of your heavy breaths and logan’s rasps surrounding you.

logan’s strong arms pull you up against him as you catch your breath, heart rate slowing as your back leans against his chest tiredly. he mutters sweet nothings to you, praising you with kisses along your neck, cheek, then to your lips.

“my good fucking girl, my sweet girl—oh, baby,” he hums in your ear, eyes shut as he takes you in. you sigh out, breathing him in as your hand reaches behind, landing on the back of his head to pull him in closer, “god, i love you.”

you laugh, pressing a mindless kiss on his skin, “i love you more, lo, i–i’m sorry for acting out, for being such a—” you begin to apologize, but he just shuts you up with another peck to your lips. “shh, you hush now. i appreciate it.. you riling me up all the damn time. s’ the only way i can still feel so young.”

you giggle, eyes opening up to turn your head to him, taking in his disheveled look—tired, old, grumpy. the man you loved, as handsome as ever.

“always young in my eyes, lo..” you smile, “besides.. it’s the only way i can get you to fuck me that good.” you tease.

he huffs, rolling his eyes. “i fuck you that good every goddamn time, n’ don’t you deny it.”

you laugh, nodding. you can’t deny that fact. but, your eyebrows furrow slightly, suddenly thinking back to the previous events.

“did you really fuck me in a gas station bathroom, babe? what if someone walked in?!” you groan, pushing your forehead into his chest, embarrassed.

he chuckles, “locked it the minute we got in here, baby. wouldn’t let anyone see you like that,” he reassures you, gently gripping the side of your head to make you look up at him, “you got that?”

his face is stern now as he looks into your eyes, and those butterflies in your stomach erupt as if it were the first time you ever got them from him. you nod though, gleaming up at him.

“got it.”

he grins, “good. now, let’s get you cleaned up n’ back on the road. back’s killing me even more now n’ that bed’s calling my name.”

you laugh at him, teasing him further. “old man.”

you wouldn’t want it any other way.

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i-love-ptv · 2 months ago

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Playing Dangerous ཐི♡̵̼͓̥͒̾͘ཋྀ

Pairing: Police Officer!Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Girlfriend!Reader

You get pulled over by the police, but the officer just so happens to be your boyfriend. Will he let you off with just a warning?

Wc: 1,822

SMUT (nothing crazy, just a steaming hot blowjob ;)) + winks of fluff

Hi guys!!! Uhm sorry I didn’t get a whole bunch out during October, I had lots of shit going on I fear…So take this as an apology lol. Also I have a (late) halloween fic coming out soon so stay tuned ;)

Feedback is always appreciated! xx

You hear the sirens chirp, and you take a glance at the rear view mirror, that’s when you see the police car riding your tail. You sigh due to the fact that you’re the only car on this road, and begin to pull over.

Were you going over the speed limit? No, you couldn’t possibly be doing so, you always remained cautious on the road.

Your hands rest idly on the steering wheel as you listen to the sound of boots getting closer. Your window is down, making the chilled night air kiss your skin.

The air is filled with cologne that rings familiar; you see his arms resting inside your car window first, the tattoo of your name staring right back at you.

You’re met with none other than your boyfriend, Rafe. He ducks down so his bright crystal-colored eyes are leveled with yours.

“Awfully late to be driving around here, huh Peach?” Rafe teases you with a smirk.

“I was just finishing my errands, Ray. And you scared me! I thought I was actually in trouble!” You try to keep the scowl on your face, but the more you stare at him, the more your face cracks into a smile.

Rafe quirks a brow at you after he takes a few seconds to assess you. “Who said you’re not in trouble? You’re driving without your glasses on, baby.”

You roll your eyes, “You couldn’t have possibly known I wasn’t wearing my glasses when you were behind me,” you replied.

“And besides, you act like I can’t see without them at all.”

Rafe tuts at your comment, “Thought it's already been established that you gotta wear ‘em when you drive, you not following orders now?” His smirk grows all the wider as he takes in your smaller frame.

You bite your lip and gaze at him, “Oh, well everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I don’t think a good girl would break the rules, hm?” Rafe’s face is inching towards yours, slowly leaning more and more into your car.

You pout, feigning innocence, “I wouldn’t do a thing like that, that’s for sure.” Your lips part, going to leave a steamy kiss to the officer’s rosy, yet somewhat chapped lips, but he pulls away slightly, leaving you gaping with glossy eyes.

“I dunno…Think you should step out for a second, sweetheart. Y’know, just to follow protocol.” He whispers hotly against your ear, making your panties dampen.

You quickly exit your car, and as soon as you close the door, Rafe’s pressing you into it.

“I think you deserve a ticket, Peaches, d’ya think so?” His expression darkens whilst he fondles your love-handles, your floral sundress from earlier being bunched up around your hips. You shake your head ‘no’, letting out a soft “uh-uh”.

Rafe’s eyes soften, similar to how you look; he mocks you, exaggerating his pout. “Well, what’re we gonna do with you then, huh precious?”

Your tongue darts out for his lips, your mouth encloses his, and there’s nothing sweet about this kiss. Your tongues battle heatedly, Rafe allows you to think that you’ve won, until he presses his prominent bulge against your stomach, making you gasp in surprise and delight.

Spit dribbles down your chin, his handle cradles your head, leaving no room for you to pull away. You moan and whimper against him, your nimble fingers glide down his chiseled body, and rest against his belt buckle.

Then, Rafe remembers that the two of you are still in fact, on the side of the road. He breaks the kiss, making you chase after him; the string of saliva breaking whilst you whimper for more.

“Mmm, I know baby. Tell you what, how about I have you atone in a different way, would you like that pretty?” His veiny hands raise, resting lightly against your shoulders as his thumbs rub against your throat.

You eagerly nod your head up and down, wanting nothing more than to get your hands on your man wearing his delicious uniform.

Rafe drags you to the passenger seat then dashes to the driver's seat, and he mentally, he thanks every god out there that he forgot to turn both his body-cam, and his dash-cam back on.

He leans the seat back and beckons you over with his index and middle finger. “C’mon Peaches, y’know what to do.” You reach over and begin to unbuckle his pants.

Your body digs somewhat uncomfortably into the center console, but you can’t seem to care— not when Rafe’s cock twitches in his boxers. Your mouth nearly waters at the sight.

You take him out, making him hiss and screw his eyes shut for a moment.

Your manicured finger brushes against his pink tip, rubbing circles as you leave soft, feathery kisses to the base of his dick.

Rafe grunts in frustration, growing impatient with your constant teasing. He grabs your hair roughly, angling your face just above his dick.

“Make sure you breathe through your nose f’me, Peach.”

Your head is pushed down; your lips wrap perfectly around his shaft as it goes deeper into your mouth. Your nose is pressed against Rafe’s hairy thigh, his cock kissing the back of your throat beautifully. You gag slightly at his length, making your boyfriend chuckle.

He pulls you off, then sends you right back down just as quick. You hollow your cheeks as your head continues to bob. Spit gathers around your mouth due to Rafe’s force. He uses his left hand to hold your hair, while his right rubs the back of your neck.

It’s something so soft, so sweet, while in such a dirty, sinful situation.

The wet sounds of your gagging and slurping is all Rafe can focus on. —That and how sexy you look with the blue and red lights reflecting off of your face. It’s a sight he wishes to preserve in his mind for the rest of eternity.

He fully removes you from his dick, allowing you to catch your breath. “Mhm, you got it baby,” he says through his panting.

He guides your head back down; you don’t even get a chance to wrap your hand around what doesn’t fit because he’s thrusting up into your mouth.

Tears pool into your eyes, but Rafe can hardly tell due to them nearly rolling to the back of your head.

You whimper around him, your angelic sounds and the squelching which permeated the car only encourage him.

“You’re my good girl though, right Peaches? You’re gonna take it real good f’me?” Rafe moans at the sensation of your tongue swirling around his cock.

You squeal around him, trying to shake your head ‘yes’ at him but Rafe continues to roll his hips up.

The car shifts when another comes speeding down the road, but he can’t seem to give a shit when the woman of his dreams is nearly sucking him off the bone.

Rafe’s head is tilted towards the roof, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows his spit. His chest heaves, his grip on the back of your neck tightening as he moans hopelessly.

“H-hah, that mouth was made f’me precious,” he grunts through his gritted teeth.

“You. Were. Made. For. Me.” His words are emphasized by his thrusts.

He switches hands, allowing his left to snatch up your hand, so his right can hold onto the open window.

His bucking grows erratic, his rhythm being lost, alongside his mind as he grows closer and closer to his climax. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, another sign of him almost finishing.

Rafe can no longer contain his moans, he’s borderline wailing at this point, his body is lifting off the seat, but you maintain your pace.

“Y-yes baby! That’s it! Make me cum, honey. Make me fucking cum.” He sounds almost pained, which fuels your burning desire.

Rafe’s been reduced to a whimpering mess now, despite his acts of dominance earlier, but neither of you mind. His moans go higher in pitch, then suddenly, you feel his warm load flood your mouth.

The salty taste makes you moan, making Rafe shiver, and his thighs twitch.

You release him with a ‘pop’, and you leave a sweet, yet seductive kiss to the head of his flushed cock.

His load mixed with your hot saliva drips down your chin, you take your index finger and scoop it into your mouth while holding Rafe’s deepend gaze.

You lock your lips with his, and he gasps at your attempt to literally, take his breath away.

He breaks away with a low grumble, and you giggle. You pull down the driver side’s visor and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is sticking up every which way, your mascara from earlier in the day now dries against your tear stained cheeks, and your lips are kiss bitten and puckered.

Rafe tucks himself away before you climb into his lap, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

“I think I atoned for my rule breaking quite well, don’t you, Officer Cameron?” You grin mischievously, pressing your nose against his.

Rafe only hums in response, he smiles at your antics and kisses you softly.

“I uh..I got a few things to take care of back at the station,” he mumbled.

“How about you go home and wait for me there, baby.”

You pout at this, while he exits the car with you still wrapped around him.

He sets you down once you reply, “Will you come home to me?” His expression softens.

He pecks all around your face, making it harder for you to keep up your sullen act.

“Of course, pretty girl,” Rafe whispers.

You cross your arms as he continues, “I’ll wrap up so quickly, babe. Then I can…” He trails off, before ducking down to your ear.

“Return the favor.” He nibbles at your ear, and you press your legs together.

“Mmm, okay. But hurry back..” You peer at him, fixing his wild hair strands. He kisses your wrist.

“Of course,” and with that, he firmly kisses your cheek before allowing you to step back into your car.

After you settle in—after he finished adjusting your seat back, you place your hands on the wheel and spare him a last glance.

“Can you do me a favor, baby?” He asks with a grin, but you can tell it’s far from sweet.

You hum, both in curiosity and excitement.

“Think you can hold onto these for me?” He places the item into your hand, and leans back to head to his car, but not without yet another kiss to your lips.

You lick your lips as you watch him walk back to his police cruiser.

You know he won’t leave until you do, so you eventually pull off.

The set of shining, silver handcuffs resting next to you, and an ever growing heat between your legs.

#lee’s writing! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#SoundCloud #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #outer banks #obx x reader #obx x you #outer banks imagine

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sunnami · 11 months ago

Text

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn��t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

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ahqkas · 12 days ago

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hey so how do you think the batboys would deal with a s/o who sleeps with a sheathed sharp weapons knife/taser/glock under their pillow whenever their boyfriend isn’t sleeping over at their place. S/o forgot to put it away when their boyfriend came over. Too Happy to see him. the boys find the knife/taser/glock under the pillow and s/o’s just like “I’m a woman living in bludhaven/gotham. I’m not waiting until it’s too late when someone breaks in”?

♯ STRONGER THAN ALL MY MEN ( your boyfriend finds a stashed weapon under your pillow ! )

— gn!reader, bruce, dick, jason, mention of reader’s hair

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

BRUCE HAD ALWAYS BEEN A MAN OF SHARP OBSERVATION. it was second nature to him, etched so deeply that even in the comfort of your apartment, his eyes missed nothing. he’d come over late, after finishing up with wayne enterprises and a brief patrol, his strong body visibly relaxed for the first time all day. you had greeted him at the door with an embrace so warm and genuine it chased away the weight of gotham from his shoulders. he barely had time to remove his coat before you were pulling him toward your bed, eager to savor a rare, quiet night together.

as he eased into the bed, his movements were slow, deliberate, and unguarded—a state so rare for him, reserved only for these moments of quiet with you. he reached for one of the pillows, intending to fluff it into a more comfortable shape, but his hand stilled when it brushed against something sharp beneath the soft fabric. his brow furrowed, and his fingers instinctively slipped under the pillow. the faint rustle of fabric accompanied the retrieval of the object, and when he pulled it free, the dim light from your bedside lamp reflected off the gleaming surface of a sheathed knife.

bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening as he studied the weapon with the intensity of someone accustomed to cataloging the smallest details. his thumb brushed over the hilt, testing its weight and balance. the blade wasn’t just functional—it was high-quality, the kind of thing someone purchased with intention, not on a whim. his blue eyes flicked between the knife and the pillow, the wheels in his mind turning as he silently pieced together the puzzle. whatever conclusions he was drawing, the slight tension in his shoulders suggested he didn’t like them.

you froze mid-laugh, the joy of the moment fading as your eyes landed on the blade in his hand. for a moment, he said nothing, his face unreadable in that maddening way he often was. then, finally, he spoke, his voice low and measured, carrying the weight of his concern.

“why is there a knife under your pillow?”

with a sigh, you sank onto the edge of the bed as your initial embarrassment gave way to resolve. “i forgot it was there,” you admitted. “i was just so happy to see you, i didn’t even think about it.”

his expression didn’t shift, but his eyes remained fixed on you, searching for an explanation. when you didn’t offer one immediately, he prompted gently, “and why was it there to begin with?”

you met his gaze, the unspoken judgment in his tone only strengthening your resolve. “because i live in gotham,” you said firmly, voice steady despite the slight tremor of vulnerability underneath. “i’m not waiting until it’s too late for when someone breaks in.”

bruce’s jaw tightened, the faint clench of his teeth betraying the storm of emotions inside his otherwise composed mind. slowly, he lowered the knife, resting it across his lap as though the weight of it mirrored the burden of your words. his fingers lingered on the hilt, tracing its edge absentmindedly, his mind clearly running through a thousand scenarios he wished he could control. you could see the conflict etched into his features—the subtle furrow of his brow, the tension in his shoulders that he hadn’t quite released.

part of him understood, maybe even agreed, his practical side recognizing the harsh reality of your reasoning. he knew the dangers of gotham better than anyone, knew that even the smallest act of preparation could mean the difference between survival and tragedy. and yet, another part of him, the deeply ingrained protector, the man who had spent his life shielding others from harm, bristled at the thought of you needing to live this way. the idea of you sleeping with a weapon so close, of facing the world with that level of vigilance, gnawed at him. it wasn’t just fear—it was frustration. frustration that the city he fought so hard to fix still made you feel unsafe, that even in your safe place, you couldn’t fully let your guard down.

his lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to say something, but he hesitated. the words seemed to catch in his throat, unspoken, as he tried to reconcile the truth of your actions with the deep ache it left in his heart.

“you know i would never let anything happen to you,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “if anyone so much as tried—”

“they wouldn’t get the chance,” you interrupted, your tone calm but resolute. “because i’d already have this,” you gestured to the knife, “or my taser, or my glock.”

the mention of a glock made bruce’s lips tighten further as the weight of your words sank in. his gaze flickered briefly to the bedside table, then back to you, as if he were reassessing the entire space around him. you could practically see the gears turning in his head, his mind running through a calculated mix of strategy, worry, and frustration. he wasn’t just imagining the scenarios that had led you to this decision—he was dissecting them, analyzing every possibility, every risk you might face, every outcome he wished he could prevent.

“it’s not that i don’t trust you to protect me, bruce,” you added softly. “i know you would. but you’re not always here. and i’ve seen too much, lived in this city too long, to be naive about what could happen. this isn’t paranoia—it’s survival.”

he sighed, setting the knife on the nightstand before turning to face you fully. his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as his expression softened. “i get it,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “i do. but it doesn’t mean i like the thought of you having to live like this.”

you leaned into his touch, placing your hand over his. “it’s just how things are, love. i’m not afraid, not really. i’m just careful.”

his thumb stroked over your cheek, the calloused pad a warm contrast to the slight chill lingering in the room as his blue eyes softened while they searched yours, lingering on the subtle cracks in your carefully built walls.

“i’ll support you,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, as though each word had been meticulously chosen. there was no judgment in his tone, only a quiet acceptance that carried the weight of his trust. “if this makes you feel safe, i won’t argue.” bruce paused, his hand still cupping your cheek as his gaze flickered between your eyes, searching for a connection deeper than words. “but i need you to promise me something.”

“what’s that?”

“that if anything happens, anything at all, you call me,” he said firmly. “even if you think you can handle it. even if it’s something small. i want to be there for you.”

you smiled, the warmth of his concern wrapping around you like a soft blanket. his eyes, usually so sharp and calculating, held a rare tenderness that melted away any lingering tension. slowly, you leaned forward, your hand reaching up to rest gently against his jawline, fingers brushing the faint stubble that shadowed his skin. his breath hitched ever so slightly, his lips parting in anticipation as you closed the distance between you.

the kiss you shared was unhurried, delicate at first—a quiet reassurance, a way to say thank you without words. his lips were warm and soft, moving in perfect sync with yours as he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer. the world seemed to still for a moment, the weight of gotham, of fears and weapons, fading into the background. all that mattered was this—his steady presence, his unyielding care, and the way he kissed you as if he was trying to protect you even in this simple, intimate gesture.

when you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the soft silence of the room. “i promise,” you murmured again, your voice carrying a quiet certainty, as if the kiss had sealed it more than any words ever could.

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

DICK HAD BEEN AROUND WEAPONS MAJORITY OF HIS ENTIRE LIFE. from the tragedy and chaos in the circus, danger was practically woven into the fabric of his existence. but even so, when he slipped into your bed after a late-night patrol in blüdhaven and felt the cold, unmistakable edge of a knife under your pillow, he froze. his hand instinctively reached for the object, pulling it out with a mix of confusion and concern etched into his features.

“uh, sweetheart?” dick’s voice was filled with both amusement and concern as he pulled the sharp blade from under your pillow, his brow arched in a mix of confusion and curiosity. he turned the knife over in his hand, examining the cold steel for a moment before his eyes met yours. “care to explain why this was under your pillow?” the tone of his voice was playful but laced with genuine concern. “i mean, are you secretly a vigilante? because if so, i gotta say, i’m impressed by the commitment to your role. or, should i be worried that you’ve been planning my untimely demise while i wasn’t looking?” his lips curled into a teasing smile, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—concern for you, his mind racing with questions. were you in danger?

you turned toward him, your face soft and warm with happiness from having him home, your usual alertness dulled by the comfort of his presence. but when your eyes landed on the knife in his hand, you let out a small, sheepish laugh, brushing your hair behind your ear. “oh, that,” you said casually, as if he had found nothing more concerning than a stray sock. “i forgot to put it away. i was too excited when you came over.”

your boyfriend blinked at you, facial expression torn between exasperation and amusement. “you forgot to put it away?” he repeated, incredulity lacing his tone. “like this is just a regular thing you keep in bed with you?”

sitting up, you hugged your knees to your chest and looked at him with the kind of calm defiance that made his heart ache with how strong you always tried to be. “dick, i’m living in blüdhaven. i’m not waiting until it’s too late when someone breaks in. this city doesn’t exactly have the best reputation for its welcoming committee.”

he sighed, running a hand through the black locks of his hair as he set the knife on the nightstand. “i get that, i really do. but i wish you didn’t feel like you had to sleep with a weapon under your pillow. that’s not exactly the kind of safety i want for you.”

you tilted your head, giving him a pointed look. “you’re a vigilante. you carry more weapons than i do on a daily basis, and you’re telling me you don’t get why i do this?”

dick groaned, leaning back against the headboard, his muscles tense as he processed what you’d said. he pulled you toward him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders until you were nestled against his warm body, your head tucked against his chest. his heartbeat was steady, a comforting rhythm beneath your ear as he held you close.

“okay, fair point,” he admitted with a sigh, brushing a lock of hair out of your face and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. his lips lingered there for a moment, as if he could melt away your worries with the simple act of being present. “but i don’t like the idea of you feeling like you’re alone in this.” his words were more vulnerable now. “you shouldn’t have to carry that weight by yourself, no matter how tough you are.”

you relaxed against him, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “i don’t feel alone when you’re here,” you said softly, your voice muffled against his chest.

“i know blüdhaven isn’t exactly the safest place, but u’ll do everything i can to make sure you’re protected. and that doesn’t mean you have to keep a knife under your pillow.”

glancing up at him, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “what are you going to do? install some wayne-tech security system in my apartment?”

he grinned, his blue eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and determination. “don’t tempt me. i could have this place locked down tighter than fort knox by tomorrow morning.”

. . . JASON TODD !

JASON STEPPED INTO YOUR APARTMENT WITH A TIRED BUT CONTENTED SIGH, the weight of the night’s patrol still lingering on his shoulders. he was used to the harsh realities of gotham—the crime, the chaos, and the constant vigilance it required from him and his family. still, when he came to you, everything slowed down. your presence was a breath of air that he didn’t realize he’d been holding. tonight, he was looking forward to winding down, to a few hours of peace away from the violence he so often lived in.

as he kicked off his large boots and walked through your living room, he noticed the familiar comforting clutter of your apartment. his eyes swept over the small space—a few scattered books, your favorite mug on the coffee table, and the soft flicker of a candle’s flame in the corner. you had always been someone who embraced the chaos of the city, but you also made it your home, finding calm in the cracks between the its dark heart.

you appeared from the hallway, grinning at him like a beacon of warmth along with a look of pure joy on your face. you always managed to light up the room the moment you walked in, and jason felt his tense muscles relax. he smiled back, his heart beating just a little faster from the simple sight of you.

he was whipped.

“hey, you,” you greeted him at the doorway, practically bouncing on your feet as you crossed the room to greet him. he didn’t even have time to respond before you were pulling him into a hug, your arms wrapping around him so tightly that it almost knocked the wind out of him.

“good to see you, too,” jason muttered against your hair, the weight of the world fading just a bit as he let you hold him. you were always so eager to see him, always so open and trusting. it made him want to protect you more than anything.

when you pulled back slightly, he caught sight of something on the bed—something slightly out of place. he frowned for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing on the sight of the handle poking out from under your pillow. it looked like a gun.

his heart skipped, his training kicking in as his body automatically went on alert. it was instinctive, the way his hand almost reached out to pull the weapon from under the pillow. his mind raced through all the worst-case scenarios—who could have left it there? but then he saw you, beaming at him, unaware of what he was about to uncover. you hadn’t even noticed you’d forgotten to hide it.

“is that . . . ?” jason started, his voice trailing off as his gaze flickered from your face to the gun underneath your pillow.

your eyes followed his, and your expression shifted almost imperceptibly, the carefree smile fading into something a little more guarded. you hadn’t meant for him to find it, but you didn’t hide the truth from him either. you shrugged slightly, trying to make light of the situation.

“it’s nothing. just a little extra protection. you know how it is living here.”

jason’s frown deepened, and he gently pulled the gun from under the pillow, holding it with an experienced hand, inspecting it for a moment. it wasn’t just the glock that caught his attention—it was the knife sheathed near the bed and the taser within arm’s reach on the nightstand. a cold chill ran through him, and he turned to face you, his expression unreadable.

“you’re sleeping with this under your pillow?” he asked, the words barely above a whisper, gaze softening slightly but still filled with concern. his mind wasn’t on the weapon; it was on you. he had seen a lot in his life, but nothing had ever rattled him quite like this. he understood the need for protection in gotham—hell, he had lived that way his whole life—but seeing you so . . . prepared for something, it rattled him in a way he didn’t expect.

you met his gaze and let out a breath, looking at the weapon in his hands. the unease settled into your stomach, but you weren’t going to apologize for being cautious. gotham had taught you to trust your instincts, to never leave yourself vulnerable. you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the bed frame.

“i’m living in gotham, i’m not waiting until it’s too late when someone breaks in.”

his jaw clenched, a deep mix of emotions crossing his features. part of him understood the harsh reality of gotham, of living in a city where the line between life and death could be drawn in a heartbeat. but the other part of him—the part that had spent so much time seeing violence up close—couldn’t stand the idea of you being so weighed down by fear. he had never wanted you to feel like you had to live like this, constantly looking over your shoulder.

“baby,” jason said quietly, the term of endearment sounding strangely soft coming from his mouth, “i get it, okay? gotham . . . it’s dangerous. but you shouldn’t have to live like this, scared all the time. you don’t need to do this alone.”

he set the gun on the nightstand, his voice steady but his eyes filled with a rare tenderness. he stepped toward you, closing the distance between you both, and gently placed his hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his. you could see the concern in his eyes, the way his jaw was tense, but also the warmth and care that was always there when he looked at you. he wasn’t angry—he was worried. jason’s expression softened, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. “let me take care of you.”

as he held you, he made a silent vow to himself that he would never let you feel like you had to live in fear again. he would do whatever it took to protect you—always.

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