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yanderenightmare · 4 months ago

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♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility and pregnancy

♡ FEM reader

♡ P1: The Bunker

Your ankle feels better after a little over a week.

The one initially against you staying has been giving you medical check-ups every day—something about wasteland toxins and underlying, possible contagious sicknesses he’d like to keep a weathered eye out for.

You hadn’t refused. After all, such precautions were only warranted.

When you first encountered them in the wasteland, they were both wearing hazmat suits and gas masks. And though you had already been put through the standard disinfection and the basic check—eyes, teeth, and tongue—before they’d even let you in, you can’t blame them for taking extra measures—no matter how meticulous the check-ups have been since, comprising of endless spit, blood, and urine samples.

Somehow, you actually appreciated the thoroughness. It was just one more thing that reminded you of the past. The way he sat there, behind the desk like a doctor, and you opposite, like a patient, waiting for your results.

You’d gotten more or less used to it now, so it didn’t feel as awkward anymore. And, if you were to say so yourself, you think he’s even warmed up to you a little bit too.

“You’re all clear. No detectable toxins,” he states after a moment, mulling over the data, more or less the same outcome he’d come to for the last four or so days. He scribbled a few things into the file he’d been conducting, a focused furrow between his brows as he worked. You felt inclined to inquire about what exactly he’d been jotting down all these days of running tests but then decided against it—explaining things to you would probably only vex him. He was a man of as few words as possible, after all.

He sighs, then informs, “We can stop checking every day now.”

“Really?” you light up—feeling excited for some reason. Suppose you took it as a sign of improvement even without knowing entirely what any of it actually meant. In any case, lesser checks must be good, right?

“Yeah. You’re way healthier, thanks to all our produce and not consuming any of that wasteland trash.” He pulled a grimace before his face settled back into that constant look of dour solemnity. “Blood pressure, heart rate, vitals—everything looks good.”

It almost seems like such a silly thing to even bother caring about. Only a few weeks ago, you hadn’t cared for any such thing as health as long as it meant you weren’t starving or freezing—and here you are, celebrating such a privileged thing as blood pressure.

You sniffle, can’t help yourself, balled fists quivering in your lap as a few tears start to drop, “Thank you—truly. I’d have died if it weren’t for the two of you.”

He must think you’re ridiculous, too, crying over something so small. You wipe your eyes, only to notice him holding out a tissue for you. You can only laugh at yourself while accepting it.

“You’ll help me in the greenhouse today since your ankle is all better,” he states while getting up.

You spring to your feet, too. This would be the first time you’d been asked to help out. “What about—”

“He’s busy doing inventory,” he answers before you get the question out. “We’ll have to change a few things since you’re staying.”

This stills you, breath caught in your throat. You look at him wide-eyed, scared you’d heard him wrong. Voice weak as if scared to ask, “I’m staying?”

“Tch—” It’s his turn to chuckle, though he does so much differently from you—mockingly, a way he often does at both your and the other's expense. Though, you’d taken to find it rather endearing. He gives you a look—it’s very almost soft. “You didn’t think we’d waste our resources on something we planned on chucking back out again, did you?”

A tug pulls your wobbly lips back into a smile. “I guess that would be silly...” you sniffle again. “Still, thank you.”

This time, as you say it, you rush to hug him—tightly, with both your arms wrapped around his tough midsection and your head tucked against his broad chest.

It’s him who falls still now—stunted by the action and left both speechless and frozen in place. His arms hover mid-air, unsure of where to rest, before slowly lowering to settle atop your narrow shoulders—so much smaller in comparison. It’s crazy to think you’d endured out in the wasteland for so long.

He’s sure you’ve done things in order to stay alive you’re not at all proud of. Still, your survival is no less than a miracle.

He clears his throat. “Let’s hurry up,” He dismisses, then proceeds to nudge you off as if the hug was unwanted, but even you can spot the blush dusting his cheeks as he looks away with another grumble, “We’re making dinner before he’s done.”

The smile on your face is a sight for sore eyes, he thinks. You didn’t smile like that a week ago.

“Yes, sir.” You salute, following him in stride.

You’d said it innocently enough, but by God, if only you knew how it takes everything in him not to bend you over the medical desk right then and tell you all about how you’re in the perfect window for conceiving.

He manages to steal himself.

After dinner, he promised himself soothingly, calming the hunger in his gut—after dinner, they’d decided, tonight would be the night they’d finally make use of you the real way they’d intended—have you earn your keep.

When you’re done tilling the gardens, about a couple hours later, the two of you move on to the kitchen. You’d learn that the brash one was in charge of making most meals, as the other one was more than hopeless in the kitchen. It seemed you were replacing him as the helper, given simple tasks such as cutting, measuring, and fetching things.

It felt nice to be doing something again, especially something so trivial. Housework and domestic chores were something one could only reminisce about, and yet here you were, doing just that—cutting carrots as if the outside world wasn’t a badland of people killing each other for a can of expired dog food.

You really were so lucky you could hardly believe it. The tears start bubbling again.

“If you’re finished cutting, go to the cupboard over there,” he jolts you out of your thoughts. Not looking away from stirring the pot, he points with his other hand toward the far side of the kitchen.

You pad over and open it to find two dozen or more bottles of wine, all neatly shelved.

“Pick one out,” he calls out.

You blink, looking between the wine and him. “You mean—”

“Anyone of ‘em is fine,” he says. “Feel free to read if you’re looking for something special, though. It’s you were celebrating, after all.”

This time, you can’t stop the tears as they trickle down your face one after the other, soaking your cheeks.

Hearing you sniffle makes him sigh with rust. Scolding you with military toughness, “Quit cryin’ already—it’s getting old.”

You wipe your eyes and stiffen your lip. “Yes, sir.”

Turning your head back to the shelf, you can hardly believe the sight. It had been all moonshine and slop out in the wasteland. Dangerous stuff you were better staying well away from.

You can’t believe you’re going to drink actual wine again—your mouth waters just at the thought as you pick the first bottle you set your eyes on. But then you stop yourself—a guilty knot in your stomach twisting.

“Is it really okay?” you ask. “Shouldn’t we save it?”

“Tch—” he scoffs disapprovingly again. “You gotta stop doin’ that.”

You’re left looking at him even though he keeps his back turned, still busy stirring the pot. He lifts a spoon for tasting, then adds more spice to his liking before continuing as though he could tell you were confused just from the silence.

“You’re not in the wasteland anymore—” he states. “You can afford to live a little now.”

A concept like that had yet to have reached you.

Suppose you were still settling in.

“Besides, there are more in the cellar,” he reveals. “Even if we drank a bottle every day, it would take years for us to finish. So don’t worry your pretty head ‘bout it, a’ight?”

Your grip around the bottle tightens—trying to toughen up to keep the tears at bay. But today was an emotional day, and it seemed there was no end to the blessings you were given. It was all so overwhelming, your heart swelled with happiness—a feeling you hadn’t felt in such an awfully long time.

“Something smells good!” comes a call.

It seems he’s returned from doing inventory.

“Oh no, why are you crying?” He instantly rushes over to you, holding your face to inspect the damage, then snaps his head to the other, who’s still busying himself with perfecting dinner. “Are you being too harsh on her?” he accuses. “You know, not everyone can live up to your cooking expectations—”

“Tch—I haven’t done shit,” he denies. “She’s just emotional ‘cause I told her we’re lettin’ her stay.”

“What!? You told her without me?” he cries then. “We were supposed to surprise her together.” His pout is instantly replaced with a blank look of surprise as you wrap your arms around him like you’d done with the other earlier—hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” you repeat to him as well.

You still couldn’t believe how nice they had been to you.

After dinner is eaten, the three of you end up sitting there, chatting—about the past, most of all, how things used to be—how people would live in little houses with next-door neighbors they’d invite over for game night—little families with kids and backyards and pet dogs—college, marriage, careers.

You helped the stoic one clear the dishes while the chipper of the two opened another bottle of wine. You can hardly believe it when they bring out the record player and slide a vinyl on.

You end up crying again as the music plays. You even dance. Laughter fills the bunker while you get completely swept away with the feeling of utter bliss. And as the wine finishes and the conversation turns sloppy, the hands twirling your body to the music get a little touchier, a little greedier, until you’re suddenly kissed.

Between the two of them, the air becomes hot—steamy as you share breathes.

Busy hands, large and strong and callused from labor, work on your button-up shirt. It’s gone before you know it, then the hands move on to your pants.

Honestly, after all the emotions joined by the wine and dance and being spun between the two, you can’t say you’re completely without lust, but at the same time, you’re just a bit confused.

Despite not having seen them kiss in front of you, you’re certain they both go to bed in the same room every night—so all this time, you’d been under the impression that they were involved with each other and not interested in you that way.

Not that it matters much what you thought, you think, you’re not against what’s happening so much as you’re a little hesitant about how it’s about to happen. It’s been a while since you’ve slept with anyone—willingly, that is—you’ve sort of forgotten how to enjoy it.

If it were just one, you’d maybe find it a bit less overwhelming, but given there were two, you quickly found yourself feeling somewhat claustrophobic.

“Wait—” you stutter. Blocking the advance with your own hands, looking up into drunken and heated eyes and the soft look of arousal painted on the face before you.

“Don’t worry,” he comforts with that kind smile. “You’re the most valuable thing we have—we’re gonna be gentle.”

You almost bite, almost give in, almost let it soothe you. But even in the drunk haze, the choice of phrasing finds you a little odd. And you’re unable to disregard that feeling that’s been nagging at the very back of your head ever since you stepped foot in the place.

Something’s not right.

“Valuable?” Sure, you could choose to understand it as them saying they care for you, but somehow, it just doesn’t feel as if that’s all. “What does that mean?”

“You know…” he utters softly—his kind smile curling into something different. His eyes fall downward as he licks his lips before finishing, “This.”

He’s laid a hand atop your belly where his gaze is set—his palm flat and firm as he rubs tentative circles into the softness.

It takes you a moment before you shudder. “You…”

You needed to be rational about this. Some part of you always knew there was something going on, didn’t it? Why else would you be here? Why else would they let you stay? The cameras in the bedroom, in the showers, all those medical checkups—you’ve known there was something. And still, you hadn’t left. You hadn’t even so much as humored the thought even once.

There is no life for you out there. You don’t just want to stay—you have to—you need to.

And is it really so bad? Hadn't they been nice? Haven’t they been more than generous? Don’t you owe them so much more than what they’re asking in return?

But what are they asking? It’s not just intimacy. It’s something else—something premeditated.

“You want to use me to…” The realization makes you shudder. “To make you a child…”

Like an incubator.

They don’t deny it.

You want to back up—create space—room to breathe, but the other is just behind you with his big chest pressed stiffly against your back, keeping you close, trapped before the one in front.

“It’s true…” he confesses at your ear. “That is all we wanted from you in the beginning.”

It sends a chill down your spine.

“It was almost too good to be true when we found you,” he continued while playing with your waist in big hands. “How a perfect candidate fell right into our lap mere days after we decided to go lookin’ for one.”

You suck in a hitched breath as the well of tears breaches, dribbling down your cheeks at the clinical word—candidate.

“But you’re more than that now,” the other reassures, bowing and fishing for your eyes as you’d taken to look down—too horrified to look him back in his.

“We figured you’d be a savage, havin’ lived out there for so long,” the one behind says. He’d been the most skeptical at first, but he’d come to learn it was rather the opposite—your time out there hadn’t toughened your skin or hardened your heart but only made you timid and soft.

“In all honesty, we weren’t sure we were gonna keep you after the pregnancy…” the one in front whispers upon your lips. “But that’s all in the past now.”

He lifts your chin, taking in the all-too-soft look of despair on your face. It’s a strange thing to say he’d missed. It nearly makes him feel guilty for the hard-on in his cargo pants. But then again, tears are the allure of the gentler sex. It’s only natural for a man to enjoy the sight.

“We want you to stay.” He strokes your cheek, catching the tears on his thumb. “After all, it would be best for the baby to have a female presence—especially one as soft as yours.”

“And, well…” You flinch at the stubble being dragged upon your shoulder and neck, a kiss placed in the nook there along with his words, “We’ve grown to like having you around.”

His hands had fallen from your waist down to rub your hips, swaying you back against his crotch—and the bulge there, that now felt a little more like a gun being poked against your back.

“It’s been a long while since we’ve had the company of a woman,” he continues while pressing himself against you. “It was unfamiliar at first, but… it’s nice.”

Something urgent takes over your body then—even though it’s beyond stupid. There’s no plan, no further thought than run—despite having no solid clue as to where. And yet, it ends up not mattering in the slightest. You don’t make it far.

You scream as their hands snag you. The grumpier one locks your arms, the chipper one grabs your legs—and they both lift and carry you back—laying you down on the little round table you’d had dinner on.

You struggle, but your wrists are pinned down to the metal with a strength you can’t hope to match.

“Don’t be like that.” He clicks his tongue dismissively like he so often does when you say or do something stupid. “There’s nowhere to go.”

“No—” you cry. “Please—don’t.” Shaking your head while squeezing your thighs shut.

Never mind having sex, you could endure that much—but having a baby in this mess? They’re the ones who lost their minds down here.

“I can’t—”

“Of course, you can,” the other insists, prying your thighs apart to make space for himself between them, already with his hands returning to undo the button of your pants, zipping down the fly and tugging them off.

“No—”

He’s back to console you just as quickly, “Shh-sh, don’t cry,” he soothes, cupping your face in both palms. He gives you that kind smile again, but it no longer serves as any source of comfort—now just a mouth full of teeth. “We’ll be gentle.”

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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sieglinde-freud · 6 months ago

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ok i think im done i think ive finally done it. i have completed the awakening ship chart with the second gen. except for nah sorry nah. yes i do love rarepair hell thanks for asking im never leaving

#ann plays awakening #i know that lucisev is not a rarepair but thats the ONLY second gen ship i got here that isnt #so shut it #u might be able to make that argument for gerolau as well but i think anything with laurent is rare bc no one talks about him #and i think gerome has a much more popular ship. that we all know and i will not tag #not that i dislike that one but i just like them with other ppl more #speaking of shout out inigo and cynthia for being the only heterosexuals here (WRONG bi4bi)(both on the aro spectrum)#they will be the only ones here to get a written ending and it doesnt even matter bc inigo fucks off to nohr and makes it untrue #oh well. au where that doesnt happen #i spent a lot of time deliberating on brady and a long time ago i rly liked brady/fmorgan but if im using frobin thats not an option #tho shes here in spirit #idk why it never occured to me to try out the male version of her. bradymorg if it was yaoi #tho im actually a little on the fence about this one. but then my top two choices for brady are just morgan and morgan #so it doesnt throw anyone else off i just need to pick which robin #absolutely nothing has changed in the first gen since the last time i posted this im still rocking with all of them #dont think any of them will change #i allllllmost paired noire with yarne #and that could change but idk. i think owainyarne is just too funny i think about them a lot #though if i could make them poly i would cuz owain/noire is also very cute #kjelle is a lesbian and would not fit into that tho. sorry. this is my gf noire and her stupid boyfriends i dont like #anyways i’ll probably shake some of these up when i go back to the awakening trio retainer au but for my main file yeeah i like these :3 #sorry i just like to yap about my kids pay me no mind please

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colouredbyd · 2 months ago

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The Boy Is Mine

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

summary: you’re quiet by nature, content in the background—until someone pushes too far. When a girl flirts with Remus, something shifts. With one kiss and a quiet claim, you remind everyone exactly who he ( and Sirius) belong to.

warnings: possessiveness, jealousy, strong language, suggestive content, heated kiss, and public displays of affection.

wc: 3.4k

a/n: i need both Remus and Sirius at the same damn time.

masterlist

You’ve never been the loudest in the room.

You don’t need to be. Not when Sirius is tossing his head back laughing beside you, all glittering chaos and charm, or when Remus leans in close, voice low and deliberate, like every word he says is meant only for you.

They fill the space so effortlessly—Sirius with his magnetic presence, Remus with his quiet gravity—and you find yourself fitting between them like a breath between heartbeats. Steady, constant and soft.

You like watching more than speaking. Not out of shyness exactly, but because you enjoy observing—feeling everything. It’s the way Remus’s thumb circles over your knee under the table without him even realizing. The way Sirius always saves you the last bite, even when he swears he won’t. You don’t need to be loud to be loved here.

They know you. They’ve always known you.

Sirius, who pulls you into the middle of the common room and spins you in dizzy circles until you’re breathless with laughter. Remus, who presses his nose into your hair when the world feels too sharp and mumbles poetry against your skin.

Between the two of them, you’ve never had to shout to be heard. They listen in the silence. They love you in the quiet.

But sometimes, even the quiet hums with something fierce.

And today, it’s starting to burn.

The loud music thumps through the walls, pulsing in your veins, but all you can hear is Remus’s voice rising above the chatter of the party. He’s talking to a girl, one whose name doesn’t matter.

because you’re already irritated.

Sirius is speaking beside you—his voice low and animated, probably bantering with James about something as thrillingly idiotic as who cheated in the last round of Exploding Snap—but the words barely register. They fade into the background like the bass of the music humming through the party, the way laughter spills and drips from every corner of the Gryffindor common room like syrup.

You’re curled up beside him on the leather couch, soft and familiar, half draped across his lap like you belong there, because you do. His palm is warm against your skin, fingers lazy as they trace circles over your thigh, an unconscious kind of touch that says mine without needing the word.

But your attention isn’t on Sirius.

It’s fixed—razor sharp and unblinking—on the girl across the room.

She’s all lip gloss and bright laughter, the kind of girl who doesn’t walk into a room so much as glitter through it. Her blouse is buttoned just low enough to draw the eye, her skirt just short enough to be a statement. She leans in closer to Remus like she’s in a slow-motion daydream, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she giggles at something he said.

Except Remus isn’t laughing.

He’s smiling, but you know that smile. It’s the strained one. The tight-lipped, please-don’t-make-this-weird smile he gives when someone crosses the line and he’s too damn kind to push them away.

And she—well. She’s not backing off.

Your fingers tighten around the stem of your glass. Not enough to shatter it, but enough to feel it, to ground yourself before the rising tide inside you gets too high. The jealousy doesn’t burn. No, it doesn’t scream or sputter like some childish tantrum. It’s quiet. Sharp. Ice in your veins, snow behind your ribs. It’s precise.

You watch her touch his arm, watch her eyes flutter and her voice pitch just so. You watch Remus stand there with all that quiet discomfort in his shoulders and all that unnecessary politeness keeping him rooted in place.

And something inside you shifts.

You’re not the loud one at these parties. You’re not the girl who shouts or struts or demands. You’re the one who stays curled up in the lap of a boy with stardust in his smile, sipping your drink while the chaos unfurls around you. You’re the calm in their storm, the softness they return to.

But not tonight.

Because tonight, someone is trying to touch what’s yours.

And whether Remus knows it yet or not, whether that girl ever figures out just how royally she’s miscalculated, one thing is already certain.

You are about to stop being the quiet one.

“Moony’s got his fan club going tonight, huh?” Sirius says, his tone casual, his fingers playing with a loose thread on the hem of your sleeve. “I swear, every time he talks to a girl, she looks like she’s ready to devour him.”

You hum, an absent sound, not really acknowledging him. Your gaze stays fixed on Remus and that damn girl, the way she’s tossing her hair back and laughing too loudly.

“You okay, dove?” His voice drops a little, his fingers tracing the line of your spine with a slow, deliberate motion.

You want to lie. You want to say it’s fine, that you’re just tired or distracted, but the words get stuck in your throat. Instead, you give a small shake of your head, the fluttering in your chest too strong to ignore.

“I’m fine,” you mutter, a little too quickly. “Just… thinking.”

Sirius’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t push. He knows you well enough to sense when you need space, but tonight, there’s something different. The energy in the room feels electric, like it’s just waiting for a spark.

Remus laughs again from across the room, and this time, the girl reaches up to touch his arm, her fingers trailing lightly along his sleeve. The sight, the sound, the way her body leans just a little too close to his, sends a pang of something sharp through you. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch her lean in, her lips too close to his ear as she whispers something.

Your fingers grip the edge of the couch, your nails digging into the fabric. You feel like you’re going to snap at any moment, and you’re so sick of it.

Sirius seems to notice the shift in the air. His hand halts on your back, and he turns his head toward Remus and the girl, then back to you. His expression softens, understanding settling in. He leans forward, his voice low as he speaks, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

“Love, I think we’ve reached a new level here,” he says, voice laced with something almost teasing. “You’ve been staring at him for ages now.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep the fluttering in your chest under control. “I’m not staring,” you say, but even you can hear the edge in your voice.

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? ‘Cause I think you’ve definitely been staring. You want me to go over there and break it up?”

“No,” you snap, a little too quickly, and then you freeze, realizing just how harsh you sound. You soften your tone, but the words still feel like they’re cutting you open. “I… I don’t know.”

Sirius doesn’t push you, but he watches you carefully, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile.

You shift uncomfortably, your gaze returning to Remus and the girl. It’s like a magnet pulling you in, the way she laughs again, her hand resting on his shoulder now, fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone.

The thought makes you want to scream.

You watch the girl lean in closer, her breath light against his ear as she says something you can’t hear, but you can see it in the way her lashes flutter and her lips curl. It’s an obvious flirtation, the kind of thing that would make anyone else swoon, but you just feel your stomach twist in knots. Remus gives a tight, polite smile, the one he always does when he’s too kind to be rude, but you know that smile too well. It’s a mask, a shield, and you can see right through it. He’s uncomfortable, but he doesn’t stop her.

The touch lingers. And Remus—sweet, gentle, infuriating Remus—doesn’t stop her.

He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t step back. He doesn’t even glance in your direction.

And maybe that’s the worst part.

Maybe he’s just being polite. Maybe he’s too soft-spoken for his own good. Maybe he thinks you don’t mind, that you’re tucked up on the couch beside Sirius, warm and safe and unbothered. Maybe he’s forgotten that while you may be quiet, you’re not blind.

But oh, you care.

You care enough that your drink is forgotten in your hand, the condensation sliding over your fingers like cold sweat. You care enough that your jaw clenches tight, the muscle ticking with a quiet fury that pulses behind your ribs. There’s a pressure building in your chest, a weight that has nothing to do with insecurity and everything to do with possession.

You’ve always known what’s yours.

And Remus?

He is yours.

The room around you begins to blur, voices fading into background noise, like someone’s turned the volume down on the rest of the party. The flickering firelight, the chatter of students, the low buzz of magical music—all of it dulls. All you can see is the way she’s looking at him, lips parted in a practiced little smile, eyes batting as if she’s never had to work hard for attention in her life.

You hear her laugh—sharp and high and entirely insincere—and it cuts through you like a blade. Remus chuckles along with her, and it’s that sound, that soft little sound of his, that makes something in your spine snap straight. His eyes catch the light just right, that familiar glint of mischief and charm you’ve seen a thousand times when he’s teasing you softly beneath the covers, and it stings more than you’d like to admit.

And suddenly, you are no longer the quiet girl curled in the corner.

You are no longer the soft one who waits patiently for your boys to come home to you.

You are standing up, not with a shout or a dramatic flourish, but with a kind of cold certainty, like the sea deciding to rise. Sirius shifts beside you instinctively, his hand brushing your back as he senses the change in the air, his voice dipping with curiosity.

“Love?” he says quietly, brows raising. “Everything alright?”

You don’t answer. Not yet.

Because your eyes are still locked on the girl in the too-tight blouse and the too-pretty smile and the entirely wrong assumption that she has any right to touch your Remus like she belongs there.

She doesn’t.

And she’s about to learn exactly why.

It never felt like you needed to compete for Remus’s attention. He had always been yours in that quiet, unspoken way—his careful gestures, the soft smiles he gave you when no one was looking, the way he always made sure you were okay, even when you didn’t ask. You had a bond, something deeper than words. But now, watching him allow her to invade that space, something inside you snaps.

She’s leaning into him like he’s already hers, one manicured hand lingering on his forearm, like she doesn’t see the slight pullback in his posture. Like she doesn’t notice the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Sirius’s hand slips off your thigh, stunned. “Where’re you going?”

“To get what’s mine.” you say, and your voice is soft, sultry, but it slices through the noise like a blade.

James chokes on his drink. Lily turns, eyebrows lifting as she watches you stalk forward, hips swaying, jumper slouching off one bare shoulder. You hear someone mutter, “Bloody hell.” and you don’t even need to look to know Marlene is probably grinning like a wolf.

The girl is still touching Remus. Still laughing.

You don’t give her the chance to speak. You don’t give him a moment to explain, or to blink, or to pretend he doesn’t feel the air shift as you close the distance between you like a storm cloaked in silk.

Your fingers slip beneath the hem of his jumper, curl tightly into the soft wool, and tug. Hard. Hard enough that he stumbles forward, just one step, just enough to crash into your gravity.

His eyes find yours, startled and wide, and for a heartbeat he forgets where he is. The party, the music, the girl whose perfume is still clinging to the air around him—all of it vanishes the moment your lips catch his.

It is not a kiss built from politeness or affection. It is not the kind of thing meant for privacy or delicacy.

This kiss is war.

It’s bruising and slow and devastating, like a spell whispered in the middle of a battlefield. Your hand tangles in his curls and tugs, just enough to make him gasp into your mouth. Your other hand slides down to his belt, fingers brushing over the buckle, teasing with the lightest hint of promise. You tilt your head to deepen it, your lips parting just slightly, just enough to taste him.

He groans, low and helpless, the sound caught between your mouths, and you smile against him, smug and sinful.

When you finally pull away, his lips are pink and glistening and parted like he’s about to say something but hasn’t figured out what language he speaks anymore. His hands are still hovering at your hips, and his chest is rising with uneven breath, eyes clouded with something that’s definitely not confusion.

You turn to the girl, and she looks like she’s just witnessed something religious and blasphemous at the same time. Her mouth is hanging open. Her expression is frozen in that awkward no-man’s-land between horror and disbelief.

“Oh,” you say sweetly, voice thick with honey and venom, “were you still talking? Only he seems a bit busy now.”

She blinks. Opens her mouth. Closes it. You don’t give her time to think. You trail your fingers down the front of Remus’s chest, slowly, like you’re remembering the way his body feels under your hands and enjoying every second of it. You play with the collar of his shirt, letting your nails drag across the fabric, soft and sure.

Your eyes never leave hers.

“I mean,” you go on, voice quieter now, conversational in a way that is somehow even more intimidating, “I don’t blame you. Honestly. Look at him. He’s got that whole clever boy thing going on, right? The kind of boy who knows all the answers in class and still somehow makes you want to climb into his lap and ruin his concentration. And don’t even get me started on that body—tall and lean and unfair, and the scars…” you let your fingers trail over his chest again, nails teasing the fabric, “Body built like a sin under those clothes, too bad only me and Sirius get to see it though.”

A grin spreads across your face, wide and wicked like a cheshire cat.

Remus lets out a sound that’s definitely not family friendly and buries his face in your neck for a second, either to breathe you in or to hide the fact that he might actually combust.

James lets out a strangled sound from across the room. “What the actual hell is going on?”

Lily is watching with wide, fascinated eyes, looking between you and the girl like she’s witnessing a lioness dismantle a bunny in slow motion. Marlene, from her spot near the fireplace, raises her drink in silent toast and mutters, “Finally.”

You lean in close to Remus, pressing your lips to the shell of his ear. “But here’s the thing,” you whisper, just loud enough for the girl to still hear.

“He’s mine.”

Then you pull back and look her dead in the eye, your gaze soft but lethal.

“And I don’t share.”

The girl blinks once. Twice. Then turns with all the grace of someone trying not to run.

Remus just stares at you for a long moment, breathless, hands still planted on your waist like he’s afraid to let go in case the earth tilts and he floats away.

“What the hell just happened?” he asks, voice low, rough, and wrecked.

Sirius appears beside you like smoke, sliding his arm around your waist as he grins like you’ve hung the bloody stars for him.

The girl’s mouth parts, clearly searching for a clever retort, something sharp or self-righteous or maybe even pathetic to claw her dignity back from the floor where you left it. But the words never come. Her lips tremble like she’s buffering. You don’t give her the chance to reboot.

Instead, with calm that borders on cruelty, you turn back to Remus and brush your lips against the corner of his mouth. Not a full kiss this time, but something quieter, more dangerous. A period at the end of a sentence she was never invited to read.

You feel the way he freezes for just a moment, breath hitching as your fingers slide up to rest at the base of his throat, just enough pressure to remind him—and everyone watching—exactly who he belongs to.

The common room is stunned into silence. Even the portrait hole seems to creak softer, like the whole castle is holding its breath.

And then James, bless his nosy little soul, practically falls off the arm of the couch. He stares at you with something like religious awe, eyes as wide as Galleons, hand clutching his drink like a lifeline.

“That,” he says reverently, voice cracking with disbelief, “was the hottest thing I have ever witnessed. And I saw Sirius in a crop top once.”

Sirius doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s unaffected. He slumps back against the couch, one hand dragging through his hair like he’s trying to keep his brain from melting. His grin is crooked and wild, like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

“Merlin’s tits,” he says, almost reverent. “I think I’m in love. Again.”

Lily, sitting upright with her legs crossed like she’s hosting a panel discussion, blinks slowly. Her jaw is slightly ajar, her drink forgotten on the floor.

“Did she just… flirt and threaten simultaneously?” she asks, clearly reevaluating everything she thought she knew about you.

Marlene doesn’t even bother to hide her grin. She claps once, loud and delighted, and leans forward with sparkling eyes.

“Oh, I love her,” she announces with glee. “Someone give that girl a crown and a throne and maybe a leather corset. She just out-Slytherined the entire House.”

You don’t look away from Remus. He’s still breathless, a little dazed, his lips parted like he’s forgotten how to speak. His hands are at your waist now, gripping softly like he needs to touch you just to make sure you’re real.

You lean in, voice velvet-sweet, and say, “Now Remmy, were you going to let her keep touching you or should I start hexing?”

Sirius, meanwhile, is leaning back like a man thoroughly entertained, one arm draped across Remus’ shoulder with a love-sick gaze in his eyes.

Remus just blinks for a moment, his mouth parted, completely undone. Then a sound escapes him, surprised and delighted, something between a laugh and a groan, like you’ve just knocked the wind out of him in the best way.

“I think I’m in love with you all over again,” he says, a little dazed.

And then Sirius leans over, as if conjured by the heat of the moment, slipping in behind you like gravity itself gave him no choice. His hands slide over your hips, warm and certain, like they’ve always belonged there. He leans in until his mouth brushes your neck, breath hot and voice lower than sin.

“That,” he murmurs, lips grazing your skin, “was art. You’ve officially ruined me. I’ll never recover.”

You shrug, casual as anything, but your pulse is thundering and your eyes are glowing and the adrenaline is still singing in your bones like an aria. “Good,” you say simply, and it lands like a spell.

The common room hasn’t even recovered. Conversations haven’t resumed. Heads are still tilted in your direction like they’re not quite sure what just happened, if they witnessed a declaration or a detonation. And maybe it was both. You were the quiet girl. The sweet one. The one with gentle touches and soft smiles who moved like a secret in a room full of noise.

But tonight? Tonight, they watched you stand like you were carved from something divine, watched you kiss Remus like he was yours and always had been, watched you claim your place not as an afterthought, but as a force of nature wrapped in wool and confidence.

And Remus? He’s still holding your waist like he might never let go. Sirius looks like he’d fight anyone who even breathes in your direction the wrong way.

Together, they look ready to tear the world apart if it means keeping you. And somehow, the quiet girl has become the storm they’d die for

#marauders era #marauders x reader #poly!wolfstar #wolfstar x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin x reader angst #sirius black x reader #sirius black x reader fluff #sirius black x reader angst #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x reader fluff #poly!wolfstar fluff #wolfstar x reader fluff #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff

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myfictionaldreams · 2 months ago

Text

⁀➷ Beneath the Bubbles // Poly!Marauders x F!Reader

Summary: A playful bet between her three boyfriends turns an innocent pool day with friends into a secret game of distraction, control, and quiet desperation—and she has no idea she’s the prize.

Requested by: @fictionalgoddess -- thank you so so much for this request! I absolutely loved writing this, I hope you enjoy!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom marauders, sub reader, big dick!Remus (!!), public sex, cockwarming, praise kink, teasing, size kink (!), dirty talk

Words: 3.1k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The bag sitting by your family's fireplace had been packed and ready for days. It had also been packed and repacked multiple times to help pass the time.

“Why so glum, love? Only another ten minutes.”

You tried to fake a smile as you stared down at the two-way mirror in your hand, staring at Sirius's relaxed expression. He was lying in bed, arm behind his head, and hair curling over his forehead. The mirror was a creation of Sirius and James. It was used initially to talk while Sirius was home with his hellish parents; however, now that he was living at the Potter mansion, you were the safe keeper of the mirror.

It had been great over the last couple of days when missing your boyfriends, though Remus’ face was still one that you needed to see, missing the sound of his calming voice.

Now, you were becoming unsettled. You wanted to be in their arms, smell their bodies, and feel the warmth of their skin rubbing against yours.

“Ten minutes is a long time,” you explain with a defeated tone, shoulders hunching over from where you’re waiting on your sofa.

“Aww Darling, I know it is. But it’ll be worth it, and we’ve got to make sure Moony gets here first so you both don’t clash in the floo network. I don’t want to risk your pretty little head.”

“Hmm.”

You’re being grumpy, but really, you’re excited. Seven days seems like such a short amount of time to be away from your boyfriends in the grand scheme of things, but having been at Hogwarts for months, waking in their arms, constantly being attached to one of them, it was easy to fall into a comfortable routine.

Sleep had been difficult to come by, and the amount of masturbating you’d been doing was probably unhealthy. But once again, you were going to put it down to the fact that you’d been having sex with three men daily, and now, you had a large appetite for all things pleasurable.

“PADS HURRY UP! MOONY IS HERE!” came the distant shout of James in the background, where Sirius was.

“Coming!” he shouts with a handsome grin, his eyes lighting up with excitement as he sits up on his bed. “See, I told you it wouldn’t take long, Darling. Safe travels, see you in a couple of minutes. Say hi to your parents for me.”

“Will do! See you soon!” you say with rejuvenated motivation. Rushing from the sofa, you say your goodbyes to your parents and collect the bag you’d been staring at for too long.

You’ve barely had the chance to step out of the green flames in the Potter’s dining room before you are wrapped in a blur of bronze skin, wild hair and frantic voices.

James was the first to tackle-hug you, arms circling your waist as he picks you up and spins in a circle as you cling to his neck. “You’re here! Finally!”

You laughed even as your feet planted back onto the floor again, only to be pulled away by Sirius, who practically buried his face into your neck, fingers digging into the back of your shirt as your hands moved into his hair. “A week without you? Torture, Honey. I almost set fire to the Potters’ kitchen again to feel something.”

“I thought you said seven days wasn’t that long!” you exclaim, looking back into his pouting face.

“Fine, I lied. I missed you every single second. " With a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, he finally releases you to allow the tallest Marauder his reunion.

Remus steps forward, calmer as always compared to James and Sirius, but you could see in his eyes how they softened when he looked you over. His jaw had a subtle clench like he’d been holding something in all week. He didn’t say anything. Just stepped up, taking your face carefully in his big hands, and kissed you slowly, steadily, and so full of longing that your knees nearly gave out.

“Hi,” you whisper as he pulls back, in a daze and breathless.

“Hi, love.”

When I was back with them, everything fell back into place—the laughter, the comfort, the safety. It was just right. However, James’ parents were only away for the weekend, so the four of you took the opportunity of an empty, beautiful home to host a little gathering with your friends.

An hour later, the mansion is buzzing with life. Lily and Marlene have brought drinks, Dorcas, Mary, and Alice are setting up the music on the back patio, and Frank has thrown pool floaties everywhere.

James’ parents' house was always breathtakingly beautiful, no matter how many times you visited. Despite its size, it still felt homely, thanks to Mrs Potter’s effort. The garden was really the prize, though, with freshly cut green grass that spread for acres, surrounded by a thick forest. More towards the house is a sizeable pool, with a hot tub to one side that bubbled away and the patio that stretched the width of the house.

You were lounging in one of James’ quidditch shirts, your bikini underneath, leaning against Sirius on a pool chair while he ran his fingers up and down your arm. Remus sat beside the two of you with a book, one hand always resting on your thigh, which was pulled into his lap.

James, meanwhile, had energy to burn. He was shirtless and loud, tossing a quaffle with Frank, and flexing his arms and abs every time he caught your admiring eye.

“I’ve decided”, James announces loudly, making sure he’s heard over the music, grinning. “I’m the hottest person here.”

“Not even close, “Sirius deadpanned, leaning over to take a sip from your drink. “Look at this face.” He points at his own smug expression.

“Look at her face, “Remus interrupts, not looking up from his book. “Much better view.”

Your face warms immediately as you pull your shirt collar up to hide your face, and the others laugh at your embarrassed response.

Hours later, after the shared butterbeer, a failed BBQ attempt ends with charred food and pizzas ordered instead. Everyone is having a good time, catching up on each other's summers, giggling, laughing, and singing. The sun has since set, which means that the floating orange lights gently illuminate the back garden with the help of the now roaring fire. It’s a memorable evening with friends.

You didn’t think twice as Remus began to pull on your clasped hand, dragging your body towards the hot tub portion of the pool.

“We’ll only be a minute”, Remus calls over his shoulder to where the others were dancing around the fire. “She’s cold.”

You thought it was an odd excuse considering that Remus had perfectly kept you warm as you rested in his arms, laughing at your friends, but you went along with him, glad to have some quiet time with him.

After removing James’ shirt from your body, Remus helps you into the warm, bubbling water. The water was surprisingly loud, and you struggled to hear your friends even if they were only a couple of meters away. Remus then eases himself in, sitting on the bench in the tub, pulling your body into his lap.

Sighing into the touch, your fingers dig into his forearms, which curl against your waist as his chin rests against your shoulder. It was calm and serene, and you could still smell his aftershave over the chlorine.

The dainty touch of his lips against your shoulder causes a full-body shimmer, despite not being cold. Remus smiles against your skin, moving further up the slope of your neck as you tilt your face towards him.

Your noses brush together as you tune his arms. You lean in to close the final distance, but he holds himself back. “I want you to keep looking in the direction of our friends. Do you think you can do that?”

Biting your lip, you hum in response, turning back to your friends. You notice Sirius and James moving animatedly now, whilst the others are resting on the seats surrounding the fire.

“I missed you,” Remus speaks into your ear, his voice just above a whisper so that you could hear over the noise of the hot tub machine. “I’ve missed your voice, your smell, those little giggles when you’re embarrassed. It feels like I’ve been lost with you.”

The words had emotions soon rising as you wiggle in his lap, trying to hold onto him tighter, needing to feel his entire body on yours.

With one arm still secured around your waist, the other moved to the inside of your knee, helping each of your legs onto the outside of his thighs so that when he stretched out, your legs spread, upper body slumping back against his chest until the waterline hovered up to your collarbones.

“And I know you’ve missed us, haven’t you? Sirius told me about your late-night chats, my poor needy girl,” Remus continues, his lips hovering by the shell of your ear. Your body shivers once more for an entirely different reason now as you think back to those nights when Sirius had talked you through touching yourself using the two-way mirror.

“Tell me, Sweetheart, do you want me to look after you? I think you’ve been patient enough these last seven days. Let me help you.”

Swallowing hard, you nod.

“Use your words, Love.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

You;d expected his fingers, maybe some teasing strokes–but what you didn’t expect was the way he shifted beneath you, the slow grind of his hips, the subtle press of his hard cock beneath the water.

“Remus,” you breathe, eyes darting toward your friends. Laughter. Singing. James is yelling about rules in a game whilst Sirius attempts to do a cartwheel dangerously close to the fire.

No one was looking.

And Remus was easing his shorts lower on his hips.

The bubbling water distorted the view so if anyone did look over, they wouldn’t necessarily see that his swim shorts were just pulled down enough that his cock was freed.

“Got to stay nice and still for me, can you do that?” Remus encouraged as his fingers ghost along the seam of your bikini bottoms.

“Yes, sir.”

The rush of water against your bare pussy was comforting for a moment. Then Remus’s bare cock is sliding between your thighs. Thick. Hot. Heavy.

And so fucking big.

Remus hears your quick breath as his thumb brushes comfortingly against your side. “I know,” he said softly, already moving your hips so that he’s able to press the tip of his cock to your clenching hole. “I know how much it hurts, baby. You always need a minute to take me.”

Because he was he biggest, Sirius may be the wildest. James might be the loudest. But Remus? The man was obscene.

He was the one who went last when you were all intimate together, had to go last, because you’d be too sore for anyone else after. You swore it didn’t even make sense how he fit, how he stretched you so wide you were surely the evidence of his cock would bulging your tummy.

And now, with your friends just a few feet away, he was sliding inside you.

Slowly. Deeply. Until your walls burn, clenching in a way that makes it feel like your body was trying to push him out of you because it was just too much.

“F-fuck,” you whimper, nails digging into his arms as your eyes flutter close, legs moving to shut on instinct, but his thighs keep them open.

“You can take it,” he encouraged, kissing your cheek sweetly. “You always do. Just sit pretty, Sweetheart. That’s it. Take every inch for me. Keep those eyes open for me, nice and quiet.”

Your eyes widened as you looked back towards your friend, now able to hear Sirius and James shouting at their friends jokingly.

You couldn’t move. Not with the stretch, the perfect and devastating stretch, pinning you open, gaping, holding you still.

Remus didn’t thrust. Didn’t pump his hips, just simply stayed inside of you. Deep and full. And already you were aching.

“You’re stuffed so tight, huh? Squeezing my cock like it’s your lifeline, Love. Bet they’d all know if they looked over what’s inside of you, there’s no hiding that pretty little face when you’ve just been fucked.”

Remus, as passive and laidback as he was with most day-to-day activities, was in charge of sex and relationships. Whether it was with you, Sirius, or James, he was the leader, giving orders, making sure you’re all in the right headspace to keep going, and that aftercare was enough.

It was difficult staying still, staying quiet. Even if you weren’t sure that you’d have the energy to move up and down on his big cock, even just not squirming in his hold was difficult to do.

Seemingly reading your mind, Remus speaks firmly, “I’m not going to fuck you, I don’t want to break you, Love. I just want to reward you. I’ve missed being inside of you. So that’s what we’re going to do. With all of our friends just over there, we are going to sit here, me inside you, nice and deep, whilst you get all wet and desperate for me.”

You were already ruined, needy, clenching repeatedly around the thickest cock you’d ever taken.

“Look at you, taking all of me without making noise. I’m so proud of you.”

Those praises had you feeling lighter, like your body was made of clouds, ready to float away.

“JAMES, YOU CANNOT THROW A BEER AT ME MID-BACKFLIP–”

“OH I ABSOLUTELY CAN SIRIUS–LOOK MARLENE, WATCH THIS!-”

Your boyfriends were being obnoxiously loud, caputinrg your friends attention and you’re so fucking thankful for this.

Warming his cock with your pussy, you eventually run out of energy, slumping further back in his hold. To anyone else, it would look like you’re falling asleep in his arms, but Remus knew it was because you were exhausted from teetering on the edge of orgasm for so long.

You were too full, too hot, too aware of Remus pulsing inside you, his cock thick and unmoving, buried to the hilt. Every breath, little shift, made you clench down violently in a helpless reaction.

He knew you were balancing on that very limit. Your thighs were trembling non stop, the fierce dig of your nails calming but only because your energy was directed to your cunt, to the muscles that were pulsing and clenching around his dick.

“Please,” you finally whimpered, tilting your head to lean back against his shoulder, face nuzzling into his neck. “Remus, sir, I can’t-”

“You can”, he gently rubs soft circles along your stomach. “You’ve been doing so well. You just need a little push, don’t you?”

You nod desperately, never having been so wound up before in your life.

Then you felt it, his fingers dipping between your thighs, resting heavily against your clit. There was hardly any movement, just a subtle nudge, but it was enough to send you flying.

You choked on a gasp, biting on the inside of your cheek painfully. The orgasm was blinding, hot, your body quaking and clenching down. Your breath stuttered, your orgasm rolling through you like a slow, devastating tide with each squeeze of your internal muscles.

“Good girl, my best girl. There it is. Let it out, baby. I’ve got you.”

Your head is spinning by the time you can catch your breath. The ache between your legs now from the emptiness as Remus eases out, having found his quiet release whilst you were holding on for dear life.

The others were still laughing, loud and clueless as Remus readjusted both of your swim suits.

Later, when you are wrapped in a fluffy towel, cuddled against the patio sofa with your cheeks still hot to the touch and legs wobbling. James plopped beside you, arm curving around your shoulder until you’re pulled against his chest.

“You good, baby?” he asks casually, giving you a comforting squeeze.

Tilting your face up to stare at his, you answer, “Y-Yeah.”

Irius sat on your other side, his hand resting on your thigh, grinning like he could see into your soul. “You looked like you saw Merlin himself over there.”

Your eyes widened. “I- what?”

“You came, baby”, Sirius said with a low, teasing laugh. “We saw.”

Your face lit up in horror, but before you could bolt, assuming that it meant that all of your friends saw the same thing, James reached out and gently tugged your towel tighter around you.

“Relax,” he cooed. “They didn’t notice. Not the way we did.”

Remus walks up just in time, handing you a bottle of water and a couple of blocks of chocolate.

“You said no one would notice,” you hiss with embarrassment.

Remus squats down, smirking before kissing your head. “They didn’t.”

“But they did,” you say, nodding your head towards James and Sirius on either side of you.

“Oh, Darling,” Sirius purrs, squeezing his arm under your knees and pulling your body into his lap. “How could we not?”

“You were absolutely fucked out,” James teases, moving closer to your back that now faced him. “All dazed, little pout on your lips, still clenching your thighs together like you are trying to hold him in.”

“And let’s be honest, only Remus’ cock could do that to you. Our girl always looks ruined after he’s been inside her.” Sirius kisses your temple as his arms tighten around you.

“You’re not the only one who needs comfort after him,” James adds with a wicked grin.

“Oh my god,” you groan, hiding your face in Sirius’ shoulder.

“Don’t listen to their teasing, Love. You were perfect,” Remus reassured.

You peek at him through your lashes. But James’ cheeky face pops into your eyesight as he leans over your shoulder. “Okay, so small confession time.”

Sirius chuckles as Remus rolls his eyes. “There was a bet. Remus had to make you cum without anyone noticing, so me and Sirius helped to keep the others distracted.”

Your jaw dropped, “You what?”

“You won,” Sirius said proudly. “You were so good for him, Darling. Took him so deep, didn’t even move. And then when you had to hide your face as you were cumming, just beautiful!”

“I hate you all,” you declare into Sirius’ chest, where you were hiding your face.

“Do you though?” Remus asks as his hand massages your thigh. “You looked very happy sitting on my cock.”

Your face feels impossibly hot, but you don’t move from Sirius’s lap. You just sigh softly as one of them kisses your forehead.

“Love you,” James murmurs as he leans against your shoulder.

“Love you too.” Because even if they were smug little shits, you were happy and content being in their arms.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #marauders x reader #marauders smut #james potter #james potter x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #mine*#harry potter smut #hp smut

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