#therapist!remus

[ameliora-j]

I’d love to hear what you think about some more therapist remus! I can’t get the idea out of my head of him sharing you with james and/or sirius😭🫠

mmmm… therapist!remus 🤤

content → smut, oral (f!receiving), foursome (ish), DARK CONTENT, 18+ BLOG MDNI

𐐪𐑂 it’s twisted tuesday ! send in ur requests ᵕ̈

"dr. lupin, are you sure this is okay?" you ask as remus is leading you up the stairs to your apartment. "like really okay?"

"well... are you okay with it, puppy?" he hums, smiling darkly as you nod. "then it is more than okay, sweet thing" he winked as he unlocked his door. he let you step in first, blushing as you saw two men sitting on the couch.

"well hello..." the one with long, dark hair greeted with a smirk. "mooney... you've brought us a new toy?" he asked.

"don't be such a mutt, pads" remus rolls his eyes, wrapping a protective arm around you. "this is one of my patients. she needs some... extracurricular assistance" he smirked, and the faces of the men on the couch matched his. "go on and have a seat on the couch love." he instructs, nodding in approval as you sit between the two men.

"yn here, is ashamed of the filthy thoughts that she has running through her pretty little head. she has trouble with tingles... she can't make them go away on her own" he explained to the two men. "james and sirius are two of my best when it comes to cases like these. i want you to be good for them. let them help you, and i will be right here taking my notes, okay?" he asks with a small smile, now turning his attention to you.

"okay, dr. lupin" you nod softly. remus murmurs a small 'good girl' before leaving james and sirius to their vices. the long haired one is the first to touch you, his hand on your thigh, rubbing in small circles.

"are you feeling the tingles now, darling?" the one with glasses asked. james and sirius... but who was who? suddenly, it didn't matter anymore as the long-haired one was pulling your leg over his thigh and rubbing your cunt over your panties.

"oh, i'd say so, prongs... she's ruined these frilly little panties" the long haired one answered for you, snapping your soaked-through panties back down against your sopping cunt. you moan, and the men share a smirk. "i need to taste this little cunt" he mutters, quickly kneeling on the floor. "hold her open james" sirius grunts, and you're finally able to discern the two. sirius kneels between your legs as james pulls you over his lap, using his own thighs to spread you open for the three men.

sirius lets out a soft moan as he peels your panties from your sticky cunt, throwing them behind him for remus to catch. the former hummed, lifting the flimsy fabric to his nose and inhaling deeply, causing you to blush. "don't get shy now, puppy... they know what you are" remus teases as sirius licks a bold stripe up your sopping little cunt.

that's the only warning you receive before sirius is licking at your cunt like a starved man. james pushes up your shirt, squeezing at your tits and playing with your nipples. your back is arched as your eyes close, grinding on sirius's face as your cunt soaks his beard with your juices.

he doesn't stop until you're cumming, and even then he's still going, moaning and slurping lewdly at your sopping cunt as your eyes roll back in your head, unable to do anything but take it as james holds your legs open.

[tortured-poet-of-thursday]

writing gay fanfictions to cope with the fact that i feel like smth is wrong with me

[msmk11]

Don’t Care Less

therapist!Remus Lupin x gn!reader

Word count: 1k

CW: really not much; angst ig since reader is crying and upset but mainly just hurt/comfort

Summary: Your therapist, Remus, cares about you more than he should.

A/n: Hey all! Here’s a cutie little Remus fic for you. Idk what inspired me to write this but I can always use a little Remus comfort in my life :) I hope you can too!

No decent person liked to see others in distress, Remus Lupin included. But he could handle it. That’s why he was a therapist. Because he had thick enough skin to handle seeing people in pain, he decided to use it to actually help others. This had been true all of his life- until now. And you were the cause.

You- one of his newest clients and maybe also his prettiest. Scratch that, you were not only his prettiest client, but also the prettiest person he’d ever seen. With your big, soft eyes, enticing lips, and crooked smile, you had consumed all of Remus’ thoughts. His little crush on you, however, had made it very hard for him to do his job. Especially when you were crying.

Remus didn’t just dislike seeing you in distress, he hated it. It took everything in his power to not just swoop you up into his arms, brush your tears away, and kiss you silly until you’d forgotten all your problems. Alas, you were his client and he valued both his job and your trust. So as you sat across from him, tears streaming down your face and head in your hands, he was using all his restraint.

You’d been sobbing for about five minutes straight now, and it hadn’t lessened up.

Remus shifted forward in his seat and handed you the tissue box as a sort of peace offering. You weakly took one and blew your nose, trying to quiet your sobs.

“I’m, s-sorry,” you hiccuped, “once I started crying I just couldn’t stop.”

The brunette smiled warmly at you, “what have I said about apologizing? This is a sorry free zone.”

You gave him a faint, teary smile, and he was pretty sure his heart broke on the spot.

“Sor-“ You caught yourself before apologizing and had the decency to look sheepish.

Remus stood and went to get you a cup of water from the water jug in the corner. You accepted it with shaking hands and greedily gulped it down.

When you finished, you crumpled the cup and looked at him across the table, “I guess I didn’t realize how much I had pent up inside me. When something shitty happens, I guess I just push it down and move on. Because if I let every problem get to me, I’d fall apart. I’d never be able to put myself back together.”

“It’s your coping mechanism,” he said, understanding in his eyes, “which I’m glad you have, but it also can’t be your go to all the time. Holding it in isn’t healthy.”

Your bottom lip quivered a little, “I know. God, I know. It’s just a hard habit to break. When I’ve been doing it all my life, I don’t know any other way.”

Remus let out the smallest of laughs, “trust me, I know what you mean. Even to this day, I’m a chronic represser. It certainly feels easier to just ignore the problem. But it never really solves anything. And then it comes back ten times worse the next time.”

“Well, how do I stop it? How did you stop?”

Remus took a small sip of his tea and then looked at you honestly, “I haven’t fully stopped doing it, but I’ve gotten better. I’ve found people in my life who can hold me accountable. Who call me out when they see me trying to bottle up my feelings. I’ve found someone I can trust to talk to. Can you think of someone?”

You seem deep in thought over his question and the little furrow that formed in your brows made him swoon.

“Well, I, uh,” you paused nervously and Remus nodded at you to continue, “you. I guess. You’re the only person in my life that I feel like I can truly trust.”

“Though I guess I pay for your trust so I’m not sure that counts all that much,” you added with a slightly bitter scoff.

Remus’ heart both warmed at your confession that you trusted him the most, and also ached. You were right, of course. You did just pay him to be here. But how could he tell you that he actually cared so much more? That he cared about you after hours, out of the office, at all times of the day.

“Of course it counts,” he choked out, “sure, you pay me to be here, but I also want to. I’m a therapist because I care about people and about helping them. I care about helping you.”

And then, ever so quietly, he said, “maybe even a little more than I should.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his gaze and you were shocked by its sincerity. You think you might’ve shuddered a little and so you gripped your arms, pretending it was just cold, though you’d never felt warmer.

He stood and slowly moved around the table towards you, “I know it’s unprofessional, but I care about every little thing about you. When you smile I feel happier. When you cry I want to hurt whoever hurt you. Every time you tell me a little tidbit of information about your life, I soak it up, committing it to memory like my life depends on it. And I’ve tried to care less. I really have. But I can’t help it.”

“Please don’t,” you responded quietly. So quietly, he almost missed it.

“Don’t what?” He asked with bated breath.

“Care less.”

Remus was sure his heart stopped.

“Please,” you nearly pleaded, and then Remus was at your side. He drew your hands into his.

“I don’t think I ever can.”

You looked at him with these hopeful, begging eyes and he couldn’t resist you anymore. He pulled you close to him and placed the tenderest of kisses to your forehead. You nearly melted under his touch.

“What about your job?” You murmured into his chest.

He pulled away a little and looked into your eyes seriously, “we’ll find you someone else to see. And they won’t be better than me, but that’ll be okay, cause I’ll still be there. I’ll just be more than the ‘professional help’- as someone who doesn’t just care about you, but cares for you.”

“I, I’d like that very much, Remus.”

And his name sounded so good rolling off your lips for the first time, he had to restrain himself, yet again, from kissing you silly.

[garlicbreadish]

i need to say that lily was everyone's comfort place. she wanted to make everyone feel loved and she was always there for everyone. she didn't hate anyone or anything. her energy was pure, loveable, trustable and comfortable. people would tell her their secrets because she was trustworthy. and she was never proud of this or acted like a show-off instead she was glad to help people this way.

[outromoony]

How many aura points do I lose if I literally just fell to my knees after seeing a beautiful Wolfstar fanart, unable to handle how much I love these two and how perfect they are for each other? Just... fucking hell.

[losver07]

was working on my wip and realised this scene is so wolfstar coded so ummm here ya go (sorry in advance for the awful translation lol)

also this is veeery long so i'm putting most of it under the cut

tw: mention of death, harsh(ish) lenguage

★

"Then came the ambulance and the police,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed somewhere in the room, mind showing him once again the image of Sirius' tired smile. "They gave me a blanket. I felt stupid in it."

John, observing him with deep eyes, full of compassion, nods. Remus figures he can't show it, the pity. That it's part of his job not being able to say Oh, you poor thing and that, instead, he must be professional. And it's not that John is bad at it, at hiding what he thinks; it's just the eyes.

It's impossible to lie with one's eyes. Sirius' always shine, even if he insists on wearing the blackest clothes.

Shined. Not anymore. And he doesn't dress in black anymore, it's Remus who has to mourn now, instead of him. And for him.

"How are you feeling?" the psychologist asks, and Remus makes an effort not to cry.

"I don't know," he answers, honest. He doesn't know what words to use. "Bad."

Not enough. John gestures at him to keep talking, to elaborate. He always does that. It's cruel.

Remus looks down at a ring he takes off his finger, and proceeds to watch it turn in his hands as he fidgets with it. It was Sirius'. Everything he owns was either his or reminds him of him in some way. Even the smallest of things, the silliest of details.

If only he could get rid of it all. If only he knew that'd make him forget.

"It's like I don't really believe this is real,” he says, without lifting his gaze from the steel ring. It's carved in a checkered pattern, a chess board that extends and hugs the owner's finger like a ribbon. It's not excessively visible but, if you brush your finger against the metal, you can feel the shapes against your skin, kissing your fingertips like he once did. That feels like so long ago, though. “I... I'm sad, obviously, but also angry. I think it was selfish of him."

Before it had been his, Sirius', the ring had belonged to Regulus. It had been silver then. Sirius turned it into steel when he'd received it from his brother, who got it from their father, whose father had gifted him it, and so on. It must be hundreds of years old.

"Selfish?"

He'll probably ask to be buried with it. If it's not worn on his left hand, it will be trapped on a chain around his neck.

"Yeah, I dunno," he shrugs. He doesn't know how to explain himself. He knows how he feels, he just finds it difficult to believe that anyone could understand it. He tries anyway. "He's gone and he's left us all here as if we didn't have enough problems of our own," he says. "Like, now I have to be myself, which is already tough enough, and also be him for James and Peter and Harry and... Oh, God, Harry..." He shuts his eyes. He needs to breathe. He closes his hand over the ring, and looks at John. "But I need him too. And I don't have him. I don't have anyone to treat me like he did. So, I don't know."

The therapist nods again. When he started the sessions, Remus thought it was weird that John didn't take any notes, like in the movies. It might sound stupid, but he imagined someone constantly writing on a notepad, making a record of every word that came out of his mouth.

It turns out John only uses his notebook to write dates and appointments down; that he actually listens to what he says, instead of analysing every sentence as if it were a mathematical problem.

He's been lucky, and he knows it. At least in this, he's been lucky.

"Do you feel responsible for what happened?" He asks, and Remus thinks about it for a second. Now that the unease has lessened, he's left with just the cold on the tip of his nose and the metal on his fingers. He misses hugging Sirius on cold days like this one.

"Yes," he answers. No point in lying.

John stares at him. Elaborate, he's probably thinking. He always looks at him like that when he wants to make Remus talk.

"I'm the one who was supposed to take care of him," he says then. "And, instead of that, what I did was use him to make him help me with my shit. And even after he's gone I'm still whining about him not being here to give me cuddles. I don't know. Maybe I'm the one who's being selfish.

The psychologist, whose diploma is Remus now observing, makes a face.

"Wanting love is not selfish, Remus," he says, so soft and kind it almost makes Remus feel small, vulnerable and about to break. Or already broken.

"But taking the love away from someone and keeping it to yourself is," he objects.

"You think that's what you did? Taking the love from him?"

"I don't know," he says, and before John can ask him to explain, he continues: "I think maybe if I'd made things right he'd still be here."

The air is still for a few seconds, both in the room and in the street across the window, as well as inside of Remus' lungs, who holds his breath in an attempt to make the ache on his chest go away. It doesn't work.

"It wasn't your fault that he suffered," Josh tells him, but he's been told so many lies he doesn't need to think to detect the lie.

"But it was that he didn’t stop suffering," he tells Mr Too Good For Taking Notes. He should've had that noted. "I should've done something. It's what I'd to have done."

John, wanting to understand but being apparently incapable of it, furrows his brows a bit. The expressions only last a second, and is not even that exaggerated, but Remus sees it anyway. The doubt.

"You think it was your purpose?" He asks. He acts interested. Sometimes he almost even makes Remus forget that he's paid for what he does. That he wouldn't be there if it weren't for the money. That he's got better things to do than...

"Helping him?" Remus asks, trying not to sound too aggressive, but probably failing. "Yes."

"And do you think you were, say, destined to save him?"

"Yes," he agrees. A bit cheesy his personal taste, but, yes, that's what he believes. Why lie, if he's not going to write it down, even.

"But, if it was destiny, how could you have avoided it?"

That feels like a boot to the stomach. He doesn't quite know wether it confuses him or it makes him angry but, either way, he doesn't know what to answer. Perhaps not having thought of it earlier is what irritates him and puts him, once again, in front of a mirror in which a disappointment shines.

He thinks for a bit. Then speaks.

"Trying harder," he says. "Being better."

"No, Remus; is not about trying," his confidant tells him, with a smile that could either indicate complicity or compassion. "You did all that you could, and more. And, still, you couldn't change it, nor can you now."

For some reason, that hurts. Rather, it stings. Both in his open wounds and his sore eyes.

"And what do I do?" He asks. His voice doesn't seem to want to know the answer, as it doesn't cooperate in making itself heard. He swallows and takes a deep breath, letting Sirius' ring slide back into his finger, where it should always have stayed.

"Think about what you did achieve," John offers, so careful it seems almost meticulous. "You made him happy for a time, you gave him peace. You made him feel safe, too. Confident. You helped each other. That's good."

"But he's dead," Remus says. He's not sure he's used that word since it happened. It's not likely, seeing how much it hurts pronouncing it. He's spent over a month circling around and avoiding one of those damned words, the ones that feel like mines in an already ruined field. He presses his lips and looks at John, cheeks wet with rivers of salty water. "That's bad."

"Yes," the therapist agrees. "That is bad."

[loonyloopylupin96]

My favourite part about this untitled Remus-therapy fic I'm writing (about 1/3 written now) is that I haven't planned what's coming up in the sessions themselves. I just have to sit there and imagine it's really happening.

I also think we made good progress in today's session and I'm proud of him.

[katya-is-cool]

(Post Sirius death)

Therapist: so, why have you decided to start therapy?

Remus: my boyfriend told me to

Therapist: right, and do you have a specific reason why you came now?

Remus: he died.

Therapist: …and how does that make you feel?

Remus: fucking shit.

Therapist: right. How are you coping with his death?

Remus:

Remus: I married his niece

Therapist *choking on water* : Im sOrRY?!?

Remus: yeah……

[fuffleton]

INSANE PICANI AU RAAAHHHH

[n0blefl0wer]

Me: *has BPD*

Me: 1000% projects onto this character I’m writing

Readers: sounds like this character has BPD

Me:

[mourningliliesmorningglories]

Guys there’s so much angst brewing inside of me and I just need to yap about it and write it but oh god it’s heart breaking

[millennihilism]

While I have been mildly aware of it for a while, between character studies and meta posts on the characters, it has really been more obvious to me as a Whole Ass Adult™️ that I am Tonks with Remus’s pile of mental illnesses.

And instead of potentially addressing those issues with a qualified professional, I found myself sucked into this fairly niche ship fandom once again and have just taken to violently inhaling a lot of what I can find.

This is obviously the healthiest response I could choose.

[writer-of-sorts]

written with @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: ancient

Sirius paced outside Minerva’s office for nearly five minutes before finally opening the door and stepping inside.

He had planned extensively how to explain his predicament and ask for advice —while preserving his pride, of course.

But as soon as he saw Minerva sitting at her desk, formidable and ancient and yet almost motherly, he couldn’t stop the words from rushing out —frantic, muddled, impassioned.

He told her all about the embarrassingly colossal crush he had on Remus, about his frustration and confusion and hopeless pining.

She listened, fingers steepled beneath her chin, understanding. When he trailed off into red-cheeked silence, Minerva merely smiled —the faintest quirk of lips.

“Have a biscuit, Black,” she ordered, pushing the tin towards him.

He obliged. This was Minerva McGonogall after all.

“Mr Black,” she said, “I know you have a susceptibility to be rather obtuse at times, but I wasn’t aware it could be so extreme.”

Sirius blinked, torn between apologizing and taking offense. “Pardon me?”

Minerva pursed her lips like she was fighting off another smile. “As it so happens, Mr Lupin had come to me last week with a similar predicament” —she paused— “regarding you.”

Sirius’ eyes bulged. He stared, shocked, but not the least bit disbelieving. He knew Minerva would never lie to him.

There was a long moment of one-sided gaping before Sirius cleared his throat and asked, in true Sirius Black fashion, “Well, what the buggering fuck am I supposed to do now?”

Minerva arched an unimpressed eyebrow. “You are a Gryffindor, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suggest you pluck up some courage and ask your boy out. He’s been waiting for you.”

word count: 275

[lilyevansmywife]

James: so the first person to talk about their trauma will pay for dinner.

Everybody: ok 

Sirius: so... how are you?

Remus: everything ok actually today I dreamed that I was a bird.

Peter: my mom said dreams are for fools.

James: *pat on the back* great game Peter

Remus: you did your best buddy

Sirius: I'm just glad that for the first time I didn't give up first

[surducktapewallet]

Ugh.

Cardigan and Wolfstar are crushing my soul rn.

Actually, Folklore and ATYD are hurting me rn.

Never a happy moment in this fandom, ESPECIALLY this month. Not ready for the 31st.

[jfleamont]

If I had nickel for every time I was in a fandom where all the main characters, except for one, die very young and tragically and the one that survives has to cope with the immense loss and guilt that comes with such a devastating event I'd have three nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened thrice