#yeah yeah yeah this one's supposed to be uplifting

[pokimoko]

Listening to instrumentals from the silly doo-wee-ooo show is actually something that can be so painful.

[thebestofoneshots]

No Sweeter Innocence than Our Gentle Sin Pt.2 | Remus Lupin x Reader

Read Pt.1

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader

Word Count: 14 k

Prompt: You did not want to go to church that day, but your spirits are uplifted when you meet Father Remus, and your mind starts creating a mischievous scheme, to both retaliate over those years of being forced to go and take something from them.

Alternatively, R is really mad at the church and decides to steal one of their priests for it (but also kind of falls for him).

Warnings: SMUT, Non-apt for Christians(?). Reader is a little cynical (or maybe cynical Af). Suggestive talks, touching oneself, fingering,  oral (male and female receiving), dry humping, P in V. Reader seduces a Priest (so whatever you might expect from that), hierophiIia, corruption!kink, praise!kink (if you squint). Consent is sexy!

 Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

ACT VI: You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain

You quickly put the straps of your dress back on and wiped your hand on the inside lining of the skirt. You walked out of the door. You looked around, the church was as empty as it got, you smiled and knocked on his side. 

“You may come out, father,” you said, teasingly. 

You heard some adjusting, “I’m having a bit of an issue.” 

You giggled. “Yeah, I’m gonna help you fix that,” you responded, opening the door yourself and taking his arm, pulling him towards you. He stood up and roughly accommodated his coat over his boner. You bit your lip as he did and he gave you a rather impassive look, as if telling you that whatever you might do, could be going overboard. “Do you have an office?” 

“No.” 

You hummed, dissatisfied at his answer. “A place where you guys give talks? like for people who are going to get married and stuff? I know I was in one of those when I was my cousin’s godmother.” 

Remus seemed to think about it. 

“We can’t go there.” 

“Why not? You don’t have the keys?” 

“I do! But it’s not safe, if someone walks in–” 

“Oh,” you said with a smile and looked down at his boner again. “I’m pretty sure it won’t take too long.” 

Remus huffed, still rather unconvinced. So you placed your hand on his shoulder and pulled him down slightly so you could whisper something in his ear. His eyes shone and he turned to you with a gulp. “Are– are you sure?” 

You simply nodded in response. 

He shut his eyes and sighed, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“You’re probably right,” you agreed, condescendingly.

“That would be like crossing the line.” 

“I suppose it would.” 

“Let’s go,” he said. 

It was Remus, that looked preoccupied but determined, who led you to the back of the church. You walked right next to the altar, your gaze lingered over it for a second before you went into one of the smaller rooms beside it, and then into another one. You knew the church was huge, but you hadn’t quite dimensioned it entirely. 

He was quick to come in and he shut the door. Turning to you as he bit his lip, he was still hard, and you leaned closer to him. “Allow me,” you said with an innocent smile, dragging him closer to the centre of the room. You placed your hands on his shoulders. “Breathe.” 

He did as told, a deep long inhale, and then a soft exhale, his breath smelled of mint, and a little bit of cigarette smoke. Remus had long ago stopped smoking, but since you appeared, and told him all about the things that’d happened in your dream, he’d taken up that terrible vice again, one of the few things that calmed his nerves. 

“Listen to my voice, I mentioned there was a way to control it, right? That I would teach you?” 

“Please do.” 

“Well, It’s quite simple,” you said as you rubbed your hands over his strong-toned arms, reassuringly. You were not expecting Father Remus to be so solid under all the religious attire, but you thought it was a wonderful surprise. You leaned a little closer to him, enough for your bodies to touch. You felt his boner against your stomach and you’d swear you felt how you clenched around nothing. But it’s not time yet for that. You told yourself. 

You knew it was a long game when you started and you were not about to ruin it all due to the heat of the moment, you weren’t that idiotic. 

“If you want to control those impulses, then you must give in to them.” 

He opened his eyes surprised when you placed your hand on him, carefully, tentatively, and pleasantly subdued. Your hand was much softer and kinder than his own had ever been, much smaller too. He shut his eyes close, his breath was ragged and looked like he might have been in pain. 

“Too sore still?” He nodded. “May I?” you asked as you placed your hand on his belt. He swallowed, unsure, and you stopped moving your hands. “Do you want to?” 

“But it’s wrong,” he excused. 

“Remus I didn’t ask if it was. I said ‘Do you want to?’ Because I’m dying to touch you but if you don’t want to then we should end this here and now.” 

“No!” he said, almost too quickly. If he’d had the willpower, that might have been the one and only moment in which things could have turned around. The sharp crossroad of decisions that would have allowed you both to choose a different result. But he didn’t want you to stop, he wanted you to do it, like he hadn’t wanted anything in his life before. “I want to,” he said in a low breath. 

You smiled, innocently, and started to unfasten his belt. Then slowly you went for the buttons of his trousers and the zipper. There, straining against his boxers, you could see the outline of his cock. Your breath hitched in your throat, he was big. You had seen that already but you hadn’t dimensioned it, but now, right in front of you? It was easy to see just how big he was, how pretty, you thought as you carefully slid the band of his boxers underneath. 

Remus hissed as the cold air prickled his sensitive skin, and you slid one of your hands, carefully, tauntingly, from his stomach and down to his cock. You were careful and light, you slid one of your fingers along his shaft, and you could tell he was stifling a groan. You looked up to him, he was biting his bottom lip and closing his eyes like he was really trying to concentrate. You looked at him and smiled, wrapping your hand around him in a grip so gentle it was as if you weren’t quite touching him. 

“Does it still feel sore?” you asked. 

He turned to you and nodded, breath ragged, he refused to look at your hand wrapped around his cock, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to forget it if he did. 

“That’s okay then, I know how we can solve it,” you said and started to lean down. Remus looked at you with shock as you levelled your head with his hips. 

“What are you–” he started, panic rising in his voice. 

“Shhh,” you said gently. And then leaned closer, pressing a small kiss to his tip. 

“Will you–” 

You pressed another kiss and he let out a short, ragged breath. Then you wrapped your mouth around him, just at the very tip, and felt the slightly salty taste of him against your tongue. Precum, you realised. Remus was as responsive as it got, and you loved that in an almost deranged way.  First, you just lapped your tongue around him. Slow and steady, listening in to the moans he tried to suppress. 

Remus’ hand was tense beside him, he didn’t know where to touch, he didn’t know what to do with them either. He was too in awe at your actions. You looked like an angel as you peppered kisses along his shaft and then wrapped your mouth around him. Always so incredibly fucking soft, it was insane. He thought he’d seen heaven with you in the confessionary, but he had barely gotten a glimpse at the gates back then. 

Eventually, you pushed yourself deeper into his shaft and started to bob your head. The sound he made was music to your ears, and fueled your determination. You quickened your pace and allowed him to push further into your throat, bordering the line between uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter, not when Remus was moaning like that. You imagined yourself with that beautiful cock of his inside of you and the mere thought turned you on even further. He moaned and cursed and kept saying all kinds of things in between mutters and ragged breaths. 

“Oh, God!” he breathed, when you used your hand to jerk the section of him that you couldn’t reach with your mouth, “Oh my GOD!” 

That one was by far your favourite of all his curses. 

Forget about fuck, and shit, when he said ‘Oh God’ when he sinned for you, that was what you loved the most. 

At some point, he started inadvertently pushing his hips into your mouth, “I’m sorry,” he said as politely as he could when he heard you cough, “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” 

You looked up at him and he swore he’d never seen something as delightful as your teary eyes and your mischievous little expression. Your lips, though wrapped around him, were almost curving into a somewhat smile and you winked at him as you went back to moving your head.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, his head fell back, breath ragged and moans escaping almost indiscriminately now. Then there were steps outside, far enough but Remus had always had a keen hearing. “Someone’s coming,” he warned, as he leaned on, a slightly worried expression. 

You leaned back, a line of spin connected your mouth and his cock and he felt a surge of electricity go through him at the sight. “How close are you?” you asked, panting. 

He gave you an exasperated look and you smiled, “I can work with that,” you said before going back and bobbing your head and jerking your hand faster than you had previously. Remus used one of his hands to cover his mouth and you tried not to laugh when you realised it.

“I’m going to–” he started, as he tried to push you out of him, but you were reluctant and you kept bobbing your head. He was both filled with pleasure and with stress. “Angel, stop. I won’t be able to hold it,” he tried next. And then, you felt it, the first ribbon of cum crashing into your mouth. He thought you’d pull back, disgusted at what he’d done to your precious mouth. “I’m sorry,  angel. I’m sorry I’m–” 

He was at a loss of words, rather than stopping and looking at him with disgust –like he expected– you just kept going, sucking him off until he was empty. The steps had grown louder by now, and there seemed to be some shuffling just outside the door. 

He pulled out a napkin for you to spit on it while looking nervously at the door, you gave him a smile and swallowed. “Isn’t it the almighty that says you should never spill your seed?” you said with a mischievous smile and his mouth went dry. 

You pressed a kiss to his happy trail and helped him tuck back in. The knob had started to move now. “Place your hand on my head, now!” 

“What?” He asked, confused. 

“Say a blessing or something, whatever it is you guys do,” you added in a quick whisper. You leaned your head down, closed your eyes, and placed your hands in front of your chest as if you were praying. 

ACT VII: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour

Remus started to mutter something, and you remained in your place, licking the bit of cum that had slid down the corner of your lips earlier. 

The door burst open, and surprisingly enough, Remus stayed focused on his blessing, rather than turning around startled like you had expected him to. Either your little ruse had tired him, or he was a lot more scheming than he seemed. Perhaps as much as you were. Remus opened one of his eyes and looked at the man at the door, giving him a short acknowledging nod.

“Oh, I’m sorry–” the man hurried. He had a thick, velvety voice, resonant but not loudly disagreeable. “I thought the place was empty,” he added, adjusting his belt. You were not looking at him, since your back was turned, but the urgency in his voice was evident. 

“I was just giving this child a blessing,” Remus said calmly. “I’m afraid her aunt is very ill, and her family is losing hope. Care to join us?” 

You tried not to look surprised when he said that, you’d never seen Father Remus lie through his teeth so seamlessly. But you weren’t one to complain. You stood up suddenly, a saddened expression filled your face, “That won’t be necessary, Father. I’ve already consumed enough of your time,” you said meekly, and then, throwing him a look, you added, “and your blessings…” 

He threw you a warning glance, and you just smiled, diverted, your back still turned to the other man. You leaned in and pressed a small kiss to Remus’ cheek, muttering a ‘Thank you’, just loud enough for the other man to hear. By the time you turned around, your face was solemn looking again. 

You nodded towards the other father as you passed by, he had long hair and was rather good-looking as well. He eyed you with amusement. Remus cleared his throat. “Will you come back? For another blessing… I mean.” 

You turned around, “Of course, Remus. However, could I go on without them?” 

He nodded in return, more reassuring himself than anything. And watched as your dress flowed out of his sight. 

“That’s a sweet little lamb you got there,” the long-haired man said with a mischievous smile. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Remus said and walked towards the exit. “I’ll go fulfil my duties,” he added as he walked out. 

“Of course,” the other man replied, the amused smile still playing on his lips. “Have fun.” 

Remus gave him a tired sort of look, something close to an eye roll, and left. 

Remus had never lied as much as he had lied that week. It started with that simple lie and then it just went on and on and on. 

“Father Lupin, could you take care of the Church retreat next week?” 

“I’m sorry, I have a family thing on Saturday. I’m on grandma duty.” 

Remus was, in fact, not on grandma caring duty. There was no grandma caring duty whatsoever in his family. Mrs. Lupin was old but held strong, and she would never ask to be taken care of, she had always been stubborn like that.

Then another time, he had locked his room door, ready to feed his delusions with the thought of you when there was a sharp knock on his door. 

“Father Lupin!” an urgent voice said on the other side, “Father Lupin!” 

Remus half opened his door and tried not to look too annoyed when one of his deacons waited at the door. He had opened it slightly, only letting his head through as he looked at the boy. He was the small blond-haired kid who he sometimes found amusing because of how much trouble he managed to get into. Not today though, not when it distracted him from the thought of you. 

“What is it?” he asked, slightly impassive. “I was in the middle of a very important prayer.” 

Yeah, right! He was definitely going to say God’s name a good deal of time but not in the way it would be expected of him. 

The kid gulped, he had never seen Father Remus be so stony. He was always kind and good-natured, no matter what. Heck, he had accidentally walked in on him while changing and Father Remus –although he hated people seeing his scars– had only ushered him out with a light reprimand and instructions to always knock on the door before walking in. 

“I’m– I’m sorry,” the boy staggered. “It’s just that the bishop was looking for you.” 

Remus sighed, also annoyed that his plan was ruined, shut the door, put on his shoes and stepped out again, still looking cross as he followed the boy to the Bishop’s office. 

“How may I help, Your Grace?” 

“Ah, Remus,” the old man said when he spotted him. “I’ve been told how excellently you’ve been performing on Wednesdays lately.” 

Remus didn’t speak, but he looked at the man attentively, the bishop liked to speak, and it didn’t take long for him to continue.

“The head priest was telling me how brilliant you’ve been. He’s seen you confessing, and dedicating the confessions it’s due time which can be complicated, and even tiresome. And you’ve always proved to be a very responsible young man. As you know most of the church will be heading to the retreat starting next Monday. 

“Of course, the church must not be left alone. But since you are not going to the retreat, and I have not had the opportunity to attend one for some time, some of the head priests and I thought it would be a sensible idea to leave the church at your charge. I believe there are a few other priests who will stay, but you would act as my eyes and ears during the week we’re gone. How does that sound?” 

Remus drew in some air, completely inexpressive as he tried not to think of all the wonderful things that could happen with the church all to himself. 

“It would be an honour, Your Grace.” 

“I thought you’d say that,” the man replied with an affable smile. “Thank you for your time, Father Lupin. I’m sure the church will be in good hands.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Remus replied as he nodded to the man politely and he exited the room. 

That Sunday you’d gone to mass with your grandma again, she’d come back to the city and she had insisted on going to the beautiful church with her. Of course, this time around, you hadn’t been as angry about having to go to the church as before, if anything, you were excited about it.

Remus was absolutely delighted when he spotted you and your grandma. He had been dying to tell you that he’d be in charge of the church, that you could stay for longer, and not worry so much about being seen with him next week. That’s how he realised he had, in fact, no way to contact you outside of the church. 

You had always been the one to come to him, like an angel, uninvited but always welcomed. 

When he saw you walking beside your grandma, at a very slow pace and holding her arm as you climbed up the stairs to the entrance of the church, he was quick to excuse himself from the boring conversation he’d been having with the old lady who insisted on telling him all about her rogue godson and walked straight your way. 

“Ma’am, allow me to help,” he said politely and took your Nan’s other arm. Your grandma looked at Father Remus and gulped. 

“To what do I owe the honour of being helped by a Father?” she asked. 

“Oh, it’s just very nice to see you, it’s been a while,” Remus replied. 

“She’s not from around,” you explained. The way your lips moved, he’d dreamed about kissing them before but the need for that now was consuming him like a burning fire. He’d never thought of mass as boring or dull, today it hadn’t even started and he already wanted it to be over with. To have you, and to have you alone. 

“Of course,” Remus said. “But seeing your granddaughter so often–” 

“So often?” your Nan asked, surprised, turning to the man.

“Well, she’s been coming to mass, Ma’am.” 

“You have?” she asked, turning to you with a surprise. “You never told me!” 

“I guess I’ve found my way back into faith,” you said. “Perhaps all I needed was a good enough incentive to come to church more often,” you added, throwing a knowing look at Remus. 

“Incentive, of what kind?” 

“Well, how beautiful mass is given here, of course,” you lied. “Didn’t you find it delightful? The way the priests here preach? Remus is especially good at it, you should hear him say god. It’s always so… heavenly when he does.” Remus threw you a warning look, and you gave him a small, almost imperceptible smirk, and then winked, just before turning to your Nan. “Unfortunately he does not preach on Sundays.” 

“What a shame,” she said. You were already all the way up the stairs and you helped her into her seat. “See you around, Remus.” 

“It’s Father Remus–” your Nan started her chiding but shut up the second Remus turned to you with a kind smile and said. 

“See you around, dove.” He didn’t think too much about it, not about the nickname or how softly he’d said it. How loving it had been. 

“Dove?” your Nan asked you, Remus had already taken off towards the back of the church to change into his alb. 

“Oh, it’s like Lamb, Remus says that all the time,” you said dismissively, although you really wanted to laugh. Your Nan wasn’t stupid, she might be able to catch on, and perhaps she would have, if she didn’t have such blinding faith in priests, and of course, in Remus in particular.

You weren’t sure you’d mind too much. Surely she wouldn’t talk about it for fear of becoming a scandal, and no matter how good she thought of you, she might take the church’s side and blame you for corrupting Remus –which was arguably right. In the end, she had already called you heathen once, it wouldn’t be that complicated for her to notice, and feel guilty about being the one to bring you into the church.

It had been, after all, her fault that you ended up meeting Remus.

But even if you didn’t mind it, you feared Remus might have, so you decided to gaslight her into believing you were the innocent angel that Remus insisted on alluding to when referring to you. It was better that way, it would be easier to continue that way. And of course, you wanted to go all the way with Remus. you wouldn’t be done until it was done. And at this point, petty revenge wasn’t the only thing driving you. You liked Remus, how innocent and forthcoming he was, you thought he was absolutely charming. 

When the mass was done, you walked your Nan down the huge steps and helped her to the taxi. The church was pretty full still, but the desperate glances that Remus had thrown your way several times were enough for you to know that he wanted to talk to you. Especially that one reproachful look when you licked your lips as he gave you the host. 

You walked up the long steps again and spotted him being flooded by some ladies. Three older women who were all talking at the same time and he seemed to have trouble following, a girl younger than you looking at him like he was  Robert Redford –Remus was prettier than that–, and babbling something about her first communion along with one of the older ladies who shared her hair colour. And a smaller girl running around his feet and pulling on his pants aggressively every now and then while saying ‘Look at me, Father! I can twirl now’. 

You gave him a short look with a diverted smile and walked towards one of the seats. He looked at you with a pleading glance, his eyes opening wider as he clearly said ‘Help me out of this’. Remus knew you were clever enough to have all the people around him scatter, but instead, you sat down, pulled a book from your bag and read while you waited. 

You felt someone sitting next to you, “How’s your aunt?” 

You turned around with a frown, it was the long-haired priest who had almost caught you and Remus. He had beautiful grey eyes. Now that you actually paid attention to him: he was regal. If you had seen him before Remus, things might have gone an awful lot different. 

“She’s better,” you said, closing the book and turning to him attentively. 

“Are you here for another blessing?” He asked, he had a shrewd, very fox-like look on his soft and elegant features, as if he knew something and he wanted you to know he did. 

“Well, yes and no.” 

“I could help,” he said and placed a hand on your leg. On your bare leg that is. You had worn a skirt that day as well. You looked at his hand and then back at him. If he expected you to blush, he was surprised to see the way you smiled, averted your gaze and rolled your tongue over your teeth. You would have been more than welcome to accept this man’s advances if it wasn’t for the fact that you already had another one in sight. Who was, coincidentally, walking towards you right now. 

“I’m afraid you couldn’t,” you said as you cocked your head to the side. 

“No?” 

“I’m about to hire Remus for a hospital visit, my aunt is very fond of him.” 

When Remus reached the two of you, he gave the grey-eyed Father a murderous look. You smiled and gave him a small wink. “I was just telling Father, uh…” 

“Black,” the man said with a smile. 

“Black, right? I was just telling Father Black that I’m here to talk to you about the thing we discussed earlier. About visiting my aunt?” 

“Of course,” Remus said. The little girl had trailed behind him and was stopped by her mother right before she clung to his leg again. 

Father Black laughed and waved the little girl goodbye in a rather charming way. Remus threw a look at him which he returned in an equally taxing manner, then Remus nodded to his hand on your leg. He hadn’t even gotten close to touching your velvety legs and here Sirius had his hands all over them, he was livid, although he hid it pretty well. 

“Didn’t you have something to do?” 

Sirius sighed, “I’ve got to visit the convent.” He didn’t seem too eager to go. 

“I’m sure the Nuns will love to see you there, Father Black.” 

He turned to you with a small smirk, there was mirth in his eyes, “You think?” 

“Oh, I’m certain,” you said with a smile, and placed your hand on his wrist to drag his hand away from your thigh.  You stood up, Father Black looked at your legs for a second before he got another murderous look from Remus and stood up himself. 

“I guess this is where our paths diverge,” he said, with a slight dramatic air. 

“Perhaps,” you replied. “Good luck at the convent.” 

“Good luck with your aunt,” he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a side look at Remus, who, in turn, just stared down at him. 

“Thank you, hopefully, she’ll get better,” you said, and waved at him politely. 

The second the father stepped out of the way, you felt Remus take a step closer to you, enough for you to feel his heat radiating on your back. You turned to him with a smile and tilted your head to the side, he looked adorable while jealous, “Are you taking confessions, Father?” 

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to visit your aunt at the hospital?” 

You raised an eyebrow, “Don’t you need special permits to leave the church and so on?” 

“Oh, no,” he said with a smile. “We’re not going to leave yet, first we have to make the arrangements at the office.”

ACT VIII: You shall make no idols 

Remus walked you towards a set of stairs, claiming there were old offices on some of the towers that were rarely visited.  As you walked up one of the towers, he lingered only a second while looking down at the stairs behind him, as if he was trying to make sure he had been followed by no one and then continued walking right behind you. It’s here, he said as he pulled out a big, old-looking key and opened one of the doors. 

You expected whatever you found inside to be dirty and filled with spiderwebs and whatnot from lack of use, but it was clean. In fact, it was like a small church museum, with all sorts of church memorabilia, some even hanging from the ceiling. The walls were plastered, and white, as if they had been taken care of not long ago, and there was a desk right in the middle of the room. 

“Well, this is… interesting,” you said as you leaned over the desk and looked around the room.

“It used to be a museum, got shut down a couple of months ago due to lack of visits. Now it’s a place we use to meditate and pray.” 

“And confess, I suppose,” you added with a small, teasing smirk.

Remus stepped towards you, hesitant but not stopping, he was close now. Close enough for you to feel his body heat. “He touched you,” he said as his hand hovered over your leg. 

You gave him a look, cocking your head to the side, “Father Black?”

“Yes,” he said, voice colder than he intended. 

You tried not to laugh at his childish display of jealousness and had to remind yourself how starved for love Remus had been when you first showed up at his confessionary. How you’d had to tell him to touch himself for him to even dare do it under his clothes and how out of practice he’d been. Even then, you couldn’t help but tease him, he looked lovely when he was being teased. 

“Does it bother you?” 

“What right does he have? He didn’t even ask for permission, he placed his dirty hands on–” 

“Right,” you interrupted. “I guess it was certainly unexpected.” 

“But not unwelcomed?” he retorted.

“Not” –he looked at you as if you’d betrayed him– “if I imagined they were your hands instead.” He swallowed thickly, the place was so quiet that the sound he made, combined with the bobbing of his throat, made it beyond evident. You smiled and bit your bottom lip as you looked at him. “Jealousy suits you, Father Remus, with the slight tint of your cheeks, you look delightful.” 

His gaze intensified on yours as if he was trying to look past your flirting and into your soul. Did you really think he was that handsome? With you being as beautiful as you were, he’d expect to see you with someone like Sirius, handsome, strong, pretty. Not with someone as rugged up as he was, not with someone that had scars on his entire body. “More than him?” 

“Than Father Black, you mean?” you teased again, he tensed, and you placed a hand on his arm. But rather than responding, you thought of showing him. “How about–” you started, your hand sliding down his arm until you had your hand in his and pulled it towards you, “How about you touch me like he did and see how I react to you?” 

Remus gulped again as if he couldn’t quite process what you’d said, “You– you want me to touch you?”

“Like in my dream,” you said as you leaned on your hands and sat on the desk better, your legs only slightly parted, not enough for him to realise you’d been wearing no underwear –again– but enough for it to be enticing, your skirt had ridden up just a little bit more, almost as much as Sirius had pulled it earlier with his hand.

Remus was hesitant as he looked at you, eyes blown as he stared but his hand still held firmly on the side. Up until then, it had been you the one to speak, you the one to tell, you the one to touch him however you wanted, he had never been the one to do it. Not even as you blew him had he dared to lay a hand on you. He wasn’t sure if he could debase the holiness of your body with his unworthy hands. 

You, upon seeing his hesitance, spread your legs a little wider for him, tantalising him. Remus was dithering as he leaned closer, you’d expected him to go straight for your leg, after all, you had purposefully laid them out for him, and you couldn’t help but be left breathless when he reached up and brushed his fingers on your face. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, almost in a whisper. The raw honesty he used sent a shiver down your spine, you had been called beautiful before, plenty of times, but none of them had felt as genuine as Remus’ words. As deep-rooted and meaningful. “Like an angel,” he added. 

Your breath was already heavier, and he had only grazed the pads of his fingers over your cheek. He brushed his thumb over your lips for a second before he moved it to the side and dragged it under your chin. One of his fingers behind your ear, and the rest accommodating along your neck while his thumb placed circles over your throat. “And so soft,” he said then. “I’m scared to break you. Like you really are one of those beautiful saint ikons we have all over the church.” 

“I’m far from being a saint,” you said in a whisper, your eyes were as blown as his. The way Remus touched you, how soft and careful he was, how reverential as if each of his fingers was laced with devotion was making you go insane. You weren’t sure anyone had ever touched you like that before, and it made you both crave more and relish in the little he gave. 

“Are you?” he asked. “I always feel like I’m floating when you’re around.” 

You bit your lips as you looked at him, his other hand had travelled to your arm, and he was holding it firmly, but not strongly, as if he was using it as a reassurance that you were real, that you wanted him. 

You bit your lip at that, looking at his, but not leaning into them, “Remus?” You said softly. 

“Yeah?” he breathed. He was enjoying the way your cheeks felt warm under his touch and the way the hair on your arm would stand on end as he traced his feather-light fingers over the back of your hand. 

“Remember my dream?” Remus wanted to respond that he could never forget your dream, that he had it every night, all the different variations of it that had gone through his head were so sinful he should have gone to hell just for desiring you with that vigour. He merely nodded. “Remember what I did after that?” Remus’ eyes lost in his hands, rushed back to your face. 

He hesitated, “You want me to touch you there?” 

You looked down at his hands, your gaze lingering over his broad chest, and the way the tight-fitted cassock looked on him, “Please,” you sighed.

Remus, who had never touched a woman like that in his entire life, was beyond nervous as you guided one of his hands to your leg. He was hesitant, playing with the soft skin of your thigh first, softly closing his hands around them and then letting go, each time, his hand reaching deeper in, closer to your core. You were looking at him with a gaze so lustful you might have as well been possessed by one of the seven deadIy sins. 

Or perhaps, it was him the one possessed. He wasn’t any better as he stared at you, gulping as he touched you, his cock straining against his pants in a way that should have been uncomfortable, but just with the sight of you embracing his inexpert touch became beyond pleasurable.

He’d become a debauchee, he wanted more of you, all of you. And here you were, giving yourself into all his lecherous thoughts, into all of yours. He was drowning in the idea of having you for himself, of making you his, vows be damned, he wanted you more than anything he’d ever wanted before. 

More than God? His mind asked him. Remus stopped moving for a second, and then you placed your hand on his chest, gripped the fabric covering it, and dragged him closer to you, the question was forgotten in an instant, and his hand, almost as in instinct, went right over your slit. But he pulled it back in an instant and looked at you in shock. 

“You’re not wearing any underwear.” 

You took his hand and dragged it back into your thighs, “I never do when I come to see you.”

His breath was slow and ragged, a part of him was furious over Father Black touching you earlier, of you knowingly letting him touch your thigh and ride your skirt up with his unclean hands, of you feeling any pleasure at all from his attention, from knowing that under the skirt there was nothing to stop him from touching you.

But Father Black wasn’t here, Father Black didn’t get to touch you in the way he did, and you had dismissed him with a kind smile, but had never looked at him with the licentious expression you were giving him now. You were not Father Black’s, and you had never been Father Black’s. From the moment you entered that confessionary, you knew what you wanted. And you wanted him. 

Remus’ hand closed the distance between it and your core. And as light as he had been earlier, he traced his fingers over your slit: Steady, kind, supple. Most men had rushed in, desperate to have you, but Remus did it with a patience reminiscent of a wolf stalking his prey. You opened your legs a little wider for him, and shuddered when his knuckle brushed against your clit.

He swallowed and placed one of his hands next to yours as he leaned a little closer to you, his forehead against yours, “Is this okay?” he asked as he repeated the action, his knuckle finding its way between your folds and brushing over your clit again. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “That’s incredible,” you reassured. 

He did it again and felt his heart start to hammer against his chest when your sighs became soft, almost imperceptible moans. But he heard them, he was the one who got to hear all of those beautiful sounds of yours, and he loved it. 

Eventually, Remus changed his knuckle for his thumb, figuring out a more precise pace made your moans a little louder, as he touched you, as he heard you, he stared at your lips longingly, of what he’d do to kiss your lips, to become his own breath and feel the way they shivered under his touch. But Remus wouldn’t dare to kiss you without you doing it first, he thought you allowing him to touch you in the way you did, was already so much, that he didn’t deserve to also have your lips. 

If only he knew the only reason you hadn’t leaned in to kiss him was because you thought you’d scare him away, he would have closed the gap between the two ages ago. 

“Remus– Rem, Rem,” you said as you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his name had fallen from your lips, so lascivious, was overwhelming all of his senses, almost making him short-circuit just from your voice. 

“Yeah?” he asked breathily. 

“You can,” you closed your eyes and attempted to focus on your words. “You can put your finger inside if you want.” 

He looked at you with a confused raise of the eyebrows. And then he mustered enough courage to ask for something he had only dreamed of since he saw you touching yourself in the confessionary. “How about my tongue?” 

His bold question was enough to pull you back into reality, his fingers now tracing slow circles over your clit, slow and steady, as if he was trying to keep you warm as you thought about it. He’d paid attention to the way you touched yourself, he’d always been good at learning, and this was no different.

“You–” you hesitated, trying to regain focus. This was him taking control of the situation, and he was brilliant at it. Your breath was heavy as you asked,  “You want to?” 

“I’ve wanted to since that day you gave me your handkerchief,” he admitted. You let out a breathy laugh and used your hands to push further back into the desk, so it was easier for him to bend over you, but instead, he took both of your legs and pulled them to the edge as he kneeled on the floor, levelling himself to your core. His hot breath against you sent a shiver down your spine.

Remus Lupin had never kneeled for anyone other than God or his saints. He had never kneeled for anyone that wasn’t already a spirit in the sky or a very important church figure. And he had certainly never kneeled for a woman. 

But you weren’t just any woman, you were an angel, you were his new saint, the one whose name he would repeat like a prayer over and over every night, the one he couldn’t and didn’t want to stop thinking about. So when he kneeled down for you, he didn’t repent for it. No, he adored the idea of surrendering himself to you, of giving you anything and everything you wanted. 

His angel, if he could, then he’d also bring you to heaven.

Remus looked at your juicy slit before leaning in a little closer and placing a soft kiss on your plush inner thigh. You shivered as he slowly, kiss by kiss, got closer to your core. You almost unwantedly clenched over nothing. He could see your movements, your hips bending just slightly up and your back arching at the mere idea of having him where you needed, and he smiled. Positioning himself right over your slit, but not closing the gap yet.

“Are you ready, angel?” 

“Yes,” you breathed, and Remus didn’t waste a second after that. He leaned down and his tongue traced your slit in the same gentle manner in which he had touched you earlier, he allowed his tongue to explore the outside, licking away all of the juices that had coated you when he used his hands to please you. He moaned when he first got a taste of you. 

Remus became desperate for more soon, his hands pulling you closer to his face and then carefully pushing your legs open wider, looking up at you to make sure you were comfortable in the new position, but without taking his mouth away from your cunt. Your face, leaning down on the desk was one of pure, unabashed bliss. He was doing that, he was taking you to heaven, and he loved every single stroke. 

Your soft moans when he licked, the gasping when he sucked and kissed your clit with a little more forcefulness, the whimpers you made when he brought his hand to your core, both to use his elbow to keep your legs widened and to trace circles over your clit when he distracted himself with licking some other part of you. With kissing or softly nipping at your slit. 

Remus might have not been an expert, but every single sound you made was his guidance, and when you sounded the most pleased,  then he knew that’s where he should stay, that he should keep going at it until you were a moaning mess, until you were pushing your hips onto him and he had to hold you back to continue doing it, since he figured you enjoyed it more than when you rocked your hips onto his face. Not that he minded it, he loved that just as much as the fact that he could touch you. 

“Fuck Remus,” you breathed, “I think I’m gonna…” 

Remus didn’t know much about women getting their climax, only really what his friends had mentioned to him before, and how much harder it was for them. It didn’t seem like that though, it hadn’t been all that hard to get you there, not when he had enjoyed every single second of it thoroughly. 

Remus knew though, that you would need a little extra stimulation to get there, so he switched his fingers from your clit towards your entrance, and his mouth back at your clit. He was soft and slow at first, only teasing the area as if to find it. And then he remembered the way you had done it inside the confessionary and dug his finger in. You gasped, and he did just the same. He didn’t know what the hell to expect it to feel, but it was tight, and soft, and slippery and he couldn’t help but imagine his cock inside, and how the warmth and the pleasure would feel. Divine, you were beyond fucking divine. 

You moaned his name and he curled his finger inside of you, causing you to gasp as he continued to suck at your clit, and then he massaged, softly but purposefully, curling and sliding his finger until you were trembling, one hand gripping at his shoulder and the other one curling on the side of the table, your nails scratching onto the soft varnish coating of the wood. As he looked at you, he realised just how turned on he was himself. He was throbbing behind his trousers, rocking his hips into nothing as he kept kissing you, the slight friction from his underwear was enough to make him want to tremble as well.

Eventually, you stopped trembling, your breath short and eyes closed as you panted. Your legs, which had been tense with clenching muscles, had relaxed into suppleness. He slowed down his movements when you did, easing you out of your high in the most tender way you had ever seen anyone do. Massaging your tights until your panting turned into a softer and more toned down breath, and just when he was sure you were relaxed, he pressed a soft kiss to your slit, as if he was thanking it for letting him touch you in the way he had. Like you would kiss a saint ikon or the feet of the Jesus statue themselves. 

Then he leaned his head on your thigh, and pulled a handkerchief from his trousers, passing it slowly over all the areas he had licked and sucked. Being careful when he got to your slit and noting how much more sensitive you were than at the beginning. When he was done, he pressed another soft kiss, this time to your inner thigh, and then closed his eyes as he enjoyed your warm soft skin pressed onto his cheek. 

You pushed yourself up by your elbows, and your heart fluttered at the tenderness of his expression. It was like a spell had been cast on him, where he looked so soft, like the pure, holy man he was and not like the lust-driven one you had turned him into. 

After looking at him for a minute, you pushed yourself into a sitting position and placed your hand over his head, he looked up at you like you were the most divine thing he’d ever experienced. Almost purring into your hand as you allowed it to brush over his head and neck. “Let me help you finish,” you said softly and slid from the desk, you were right in the middle of him and the piece of furniture, so close to him you could feel his breath on your face. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. 

You frowned as you pressed your hand to his lower abdomen, you thought he said it out of shame because he wanted to make you the one blessed today. But you knew that the poor man, starved from touch and probably love, deserved to come more than you who had touched yourself whenever you felt like it for years now. 

So you dug your hand in his trousers, but he was soft, and there was something sticky all over your hand. You pulled your hand out of them and stared at it in shock. “You came?” 

He was looking at you, neck and ears red with shame. Breathing in before nodding. He couldn’t quite decipher your gaze, but he knew enough about sex to know that when a man came early, it meant he was precocious, overly eager and childlike. Remus despised the idea of not being good enough for you, “I’m sorry.” 

“God, don’t be!” you replied. “Did you– were you touching yourself while you…” 

“No,” he said a little too fast. 

“So this” –you moved your hand, looking at his glistening cum on it– “this was just from giving me pleasure?” 

“Well, I’d never–” he started, trying to find an excuse that would make him feel less shameful. 

You just smiled and pulled him into a reassuring hug, leaning your head on his shoulder as you rubbed your hands over his back. “That’s okay, darling… It’s just, I never thought a man would feel such pleasure from doing that to me that he came without further stimulation. If anything, I’m flattered. You must not be ashamed.” 

“But didn’t you want more?” 

“Oh, Remus,” you said as you pulled your head up and leaned close to his ear, enough for your lips to brush against his still-red tips, “I always want more.” 

The way you were wrapped around him, the soft way you spoke, it was strangely reminiscent of the serpent tempting Eve. Wanting him to bite onto the forbidden fruit, the fruit that would be having you in the way he so intensely wanted –needed– to have you. 

Atonement, penitence…. Could he even have one when he didn’t regret any of his sins? When rather than feeling remorseful, he wanted more, more of anything you’d give him, more of you. You were delightful, stunning, and warm and perfect all over, he wanted to kiss you so bad, but he didn’t know if he was allowed. The image of your lips against him might have been more tantalising than the image of his cock inside you.

Satisfying his carnal needs wasn’t enough anymore, he wanted to appease his mind too, and the only thing that had that ability was you. You felt like peace and tranquillity. Like you were his sacred place, more holy than the very walls surrounding the both of you. But above all, he wanted more, he wanted to be able to touch you again, to feel you so close to him again that he could almost touch your very soul. 

“I’m gonna be in charge of the Church during the retreat,” he blurted out.

“Congratulations, Father Remus,” you said with a bit of a smirk, still hugging him as you did. 

“What I mean is– the Church, it’s going to be lonely. Probably just me and a few others who will be too busy studying the scriptures for the Pope’s visit next month.” 

That’s when you pulled back to look at him, a mischievous expression on your face, “Are you inviting me over for the night, Father Remus?” 

“I thought,” he started, and then smirked. “I thought you might want to confess again.” 

ACT IX: I am the LORD your God; you shall not have strange gods before me.

The priests were meant to leave by midday. At 9 in the evening, by the time you were set to arrive, the church looked almost deserted. The people from de Diose that would always be walking around in their robes were nowhere to be seen. In the chairs, there was nothing more than dust. You had seen the last person walk out as you walked inside.

She stood right at the entrance when you were walking up the stairs and then did the sign of the cross as she looked up at the altar. You looked at it as well, the altar at Saint Gryffin was beautiful. Made of marble and carved with a design so intricate it could have belonged to a museum. It had golden touches, that you suspected were not made of paint but rather real gold, and right behind it, a little on the higher side, there was a stunning round, stained-glass window that reflected its colours all over the church when the light hit it a certain way, or so you’d heard a woman claim.

You took a deep breath as you looked at it, outside of the church being the oppressive organism that you disagreed with, there was still beauty to be appreciated. But that was the thing about the world, there was something to appreciate even in the most wretched of things, even the most wicked being in creation, had something to be said for him. They had a huge painting of god casting Lucifer down to Earth near one of the walls, and there always seemed to be people who insisted on drawing the Devil as the most beautiful of men. That had been described in the bible of course, but it was very Wildean of the bible to have a man so corrupted be as delightful. 

Or perhaps it was very biblical of Wilde to write a book where a beautiful man became corrupted, gave in to every single lewd wish they had, and yet, remained as beautiful as an angel.

As your steps echoed on the empty church, you walked straight towards the confessionary. Since both you and Remus thought it was the best place to hide while he was closing it all down. You heard the big doors of the church being closed, and Remus dismissing one of his older deacons, the one who was studying to become a priest, with the characteristic solemnity of a man of the church. 

The same solemnity that seemed to leave him the minute he felt you, standing behind him. You had leaned onto him while he finished up with the locks and whispered in his ear. “Nice to see you again, Father. Will you take my confession?” 

He swallowed, he knew it was your little game, and he decided to play along. “Pray tell child, what have you done this time?” 

“I was walking on the street,” you said. “On a little one of those stores where they sell elegant underwear for women, or well, I suppose they really sell them for men, so they enjoy their women… I saw a little set.” 

“What kind of set?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the wooden door, he pretended to busy himself with the locks, although they were all done by now, he just kept touching them with an air of nervousness that he tried to contain as he spoke. 

“Well, it had a bra, one of those really nice push-up bras that make women’s breasts look delightful, and a small little thing for underwear that’s so transparent I might as well be naked while wearing it. But the best part, Rem, oh, the best part is the matching transparent little robe that came with it.” His breath got stuck in his throat, he resisted the urge to turn around as you pressed your body to his back, leaning so close he could feel your lips touching his earlobe. “Would you like to know the colour?” 

Remus gulped, so loud it almost made an echo in the church. “Yes.” 

“Then turn around and see it for yourself.” 

He did, and there you stood, wearing the exact clothes you had described. He imagined the colour you’d chosen had been forest green, like the girl from his magazine, but he never imagined how absolutely enchanting you’d look in such an outfit. 

“Your little story inspired me, thought you’d like it,” you said with a smile, and then you looked down at the visible bulge in his pants. “I gather you did?” 

Remus was speechless as he stared at you, he was never expecting anyone, let alone you to put such an effort for him, to dress in such a scanty little outfit just to please him. A part of him was dying to take it off, like he’d dreamed with that girl from the magazine, the other part of him, wanted to let you keep it, to have you like that forever. And then, there was the desperate part of him, the one that he couldn’t keep under control as he leaned down and kissed you. His mouth was in yours when he realised he hadn’t even asked if he could. 

“I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled apart. “I’m sorry I didn’t–”

You smiled and placed your hands around his neck, “I thought you’d never do that,” you breathed, and pushed him back into the kiss. His lips were soft, and gentle, and it was you the one to press your tongue against them. He complied with your wish, and suddenly your tongues were dancing with each other, deepening the kiss. 

Remus’ hands found their way to your waist, and he pulled you closer to him, your stomach pressed against his boner, and he almost flinched when he realised and tried to pull his hips back, but you didn’t let him. “I want to feel it, Rem,” you whispered in between kisses. “I like to feel how good I make you feel.” 

“You make me feel better than anything and anyone has ever made me feel,” he retorted. “That’s nothing, that’s just collateral.” 

You could have drowned in his words. But instead, you decided to drown in his lips, returning to kiss him with an even more ardent fervour. You somehow got Remus to sit on one of the benches and he pushed his head to look up at you while you kissed him. His hands had gotten just venturous enough to touch thighs, and the idea that he could was only making him harder. The strain of his cock on his trousers was almost painful at this point. You figured when he had to move one of his hands to adjust himself and hissed at the contact. 

That was enough for you to climb on top of him. “Sweet thing, what are you–” he tried to ask in between a kiss, but you were already rocking your hips against him before he continued, and his words were interrupted by a moan. 

You pulled back and smiled, “Helping you with that tension.” 

He stared at you, the way your swollen lips moved and turned upwards into that very like you smile, and he tried not to eagerly jerk against you the next time you leaned your clothed sex closer to him.  

“This is the first time I ever– fuck…” Teasing you was hard when you were so damn incredible at making him feel in heaven. “I ever see you wearing knickers.” 

“Perhaps your goodness is rubbing off on me,” you replied with an equal smirk. 

“That’s not the thing that’s rubbing onto you,” he somehow managed to joke, and you laughed. A laugh so angelical it might have as well come from heaven altogether, it echoed against the vaulted ceiling of the place and then came back to him in a lower, softer tone that made him smile, and drag you back into a kiss. He was clearly much more confident –or perhaps just more eager– today. 

“Father Remus,” you said as you pushed your hips on him, he struggled to get a grip on reality as he focused on what you were saying. 

“Mhm?” 

“I want to confess.” 

“Right now?” 

“It’s a very sinful thought I’ve had.” 

Remus arched an eyebrow and then moaned when you rolled your hips against him again, making sure he was turned on enough to comply with your, actually very sinful little wish.

“Then tell me, dove. I’ll absolve you. I’d absolve you from anything.” 

“But I don’t want absolution, Father,” you said and let out a shaky breath. “I want you to sin with me.” 

Remus laughed, “Anything you want.” 

“You haven’t even heard my request.” 

“My answer remains the same,” he said solemnly.

You smiled and leaned closer to him, making sure to lean your hips on his, feeling how hard he was on your core making you so wet you were sure your new knickers were already stained. You whispered what you wanted in his ear. Low, steady, as if you weren’t alone in the church. Then you pulled back to look at him, “So?” 

He gulped and looked behind you as if considering your request, there was a nervous gaze on him, a small frown, and you worried your request had been out of line, “I’m sorry,” you said quickly, and pulled from him, leaning on his thighs instead of his hips. A worried expression plastered your features, terrified you might have killed the mood. “If you don’t want to then we don’t have to, we–” 

He pulled you into a kiss, he thought it was lovely how quickly you had changed your mind for him, but his words carried meaning, and when he said ‘anything you want’, he really meant it. He pulled his lips from your and pressed kisses all the way to your ear and then whispered “I was just thinking how to get us there.” 

You were thrumming with excitement by the time he dragged his hands to your thighs and pulled himself up with you wrapped around him. 

“I won’t let you fall,” he said as he noticed you steadying yourself. 

“I know,” you said with a smile and pressed a kiss to his neck that made him falter. “I may have my doubts now.” 

“I would never let you fall, darling, not without going along with you,” he whispered and started walking towards the chancel. He looked at the Bishop’s chair and imagined having you there, but that wasn’t what you’d asked for.  

When he reached the altar, it was easy enough to lean on it and let you sit, the height was just about perfect for him, with how tall he was, your faces were levelled with each other. Remus had been taught to care for the altar, to kiss it, to worship it since it was the symbol of sacrifice, the symbol of God, the cynosure of all eyes during any Eucharistic celebration. He thought it rather proper to place you there, since to him, you were the real cynosure.

And he would treat you like such, he would kiss you, and worship you, like you were God yourself. Because at this point, you might as well have been. 

The altar was bare except for a few candles that he hastily pushed to the side as he stared at you, sitting there with your profane little clothes while still looking as holy as an angel. He had been behind the altar perhaps thousands of times, yet he had never felt nearly as illuminated as he had that moment.

“What?” you asked as you tilted your head to the side, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Just admiring how incredibly stunning you look,” he said. And then he tilted his head, his tone changed, “I think I need to confess.” 

You smiled, you loved it when Remus joined your little game, you bit your lip and placed your hands on each side of his flushed cheeks. “Speak, dear one, I will absolve you with a kiss.” 

“I want to sullen this sacred table by worshipping a different god on it.” 

“Different? To him?” you asked as you nodded towards the cross in the back. “A better one?” 

“A much more tangible one,” he said. “One that dresses in beautiful lingerie and steals his priests.” 

“Just one,” you corrected. “I only want one of his priests.” 

He chuckled, “Just one then.”

“Come, I’ll absolve you,” you said and leaned closer to him, pressing your lips on his again.

There were warning signs all around Remus’ head. Red flags telling him to stop, voices calling him a harlot, weak of mind and body, a heathen and a pagan. His reproaching father telling him how much of a disappointment he was, the elder being disappointed at his lewd actions, and the part of him that was still a priest telling him to stop before it was too late, before he wouldn’t be able to do it, but that line had long ago been crossed, and all of those thoughts were the easiest thing to ignore when your sweet lips were in his.

You had to be an angel, there was no other way you could make him feel as incredible as you did. And if not an angel, then you really were a god, his Goddess. And so he would venerate you and worship you on the altar like he’d learned to worship his previous god.

ACT X: You shall not kill

Remus stopped kissing your mouth and started placing soft, feather-like kisses all over your face until he got to your neck, gently moving the thin, translucent fabric of the little robe to the side so he could kiss the skin of your collarbone. Open-mouthed kisses and soft licks that felt desperate filled your senses as he pressed his face to your skin and breathed in your smell.

The slight scent of rose he particularly enjoyed when the church was filled with them for a wedding that the soap you’d specifically bought for today had tainted your skin with, the smell of the city air where you had commuted, and the ridiculously delicious natural smell of your skin. He kissed again and again, slowly letting his hands wander through your body, digging them down to the robe until the small bow that tied it was undone and he pushed it off your shoulders and allowed it to pool down on your hips. 

He pulled back to look at you again, lips swollen and red from how much he’d kissed you, lustful gaze lost on you, pupils blown out and softly panting as he regained his breath from the previous kisses. He bit his lips as he stared at your breasts. He’d seen them, but he’d never touched them, you weren’t even sure if he’d ever actually touched a pair in his life, and he had been purposefully avoiding them altogether as he kissed your neck. 

You smiled, “You want to take it off, or do you want me to do it?” 

He swallowed thickly at that, looking up at your eyes as if trying to make sure you were serious about your words, you raised your eyebrows at that. 

“It might be tricky, but I’m sure you’d manage, you’re a clever man, after all.” 

He wrapped his hands around you after that, first on your shoulders, and then he got closer, slotting himself even deeper between your legs as he allowed his fingers to delicately brush over your shoulder blades as his eyes were focused on your neck. You looked at him while he did, your own breath nervous and as slow as you could make it. The way he touched you, the way he revered you with every brush of his fingers against skin was almost overwhelming. 

You bit your lip as his fingers found the clasp, and tightened your grip on the edge of the altar as the anticipation ate you up, his hands were slow, as if he was trying to figure out what the mechanism was before actually undoing it. But once he did, he didn’t take long, with one hand he pressed one side to your back and with the other he undid the clasp. After that, he placed his hand flat on your back and allowed you to rest there for a second before travelling back to your shoulders and playing with the straps. 

He gave a questioning look and you nodded, he didn’t waste time as he slid them down your arms, while carefully removing the green item from your breasts. He saw the way they bounced slightly down and stared at them solely as he removed the rest of the garment and threw it backwards. He got to see the way they perked with the chill air of the night and he stared as if it was the first time he ever looked at them. Perhaps it felt like that since the last time it had been through the confessionary, and he hadn’t even had the time to touch them.

His hands hovered over your breasts before you gave him an approving nod and he leaned close enough to touch them. He went back to kissing your neck as he brushed his thumb over your lower breast and only after he’d felt how soft, and sensitive they were –due to your reaction to his soft touch– did he dare to cup them in his hands. 

“Is that okay?” he asked as he tightened his grip on the one he was holding. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” 

“Not at all,” you responded and leaned closer to him, your other breast brushing against his cassock. “Can I take this off?” you asked as you gripped his shirt.

“You may do as you please to me,” he said honestly. You allowed your hands to travel to his white necktie and pulled it off as you too found a way to kiss his neck. He was pressing kisses to your hair as he delicately brushed his thumb over your nipple and moaned your name from the way you kissed him. It was a little complicated to find the buttons of his shirt at first, but when you did you were quick to undo them and shrug his shirt off. Above it all, you wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You allowed your hands to brush over his scars, you hoped one day he’d tell you why they were there, but for now you did nothing more than admire them as you kissed from his neck all the way to his shoulder. He sighed your name as he delicately pinched your nipples, and then he allowed his hands to travel to your back and push forward, holding you as gravity pushed you down, allowing your back to rest against the cold marble of the altar. 

“You’re the prettiest thing my eyes have ever laid upon, you know that?” he asked as he looked at you. At your breasts, at your hands, at the curve of your neck and at the way your hair had sprawled all over the marble. The place had been designed so that the light from the stained glass window fell over the altar at certain moments of the night and day, and at that precise moment, it was reflecting all over you, tinting your skin with infinite colours. The light from it was casting a halo around your head.

If Remus hadn’t realised by then that he would not only break his vows for you but do anything you asked, be it eat from the forbidden fruit or kill a man, he knew it when he saw the way you leaned over your elbows and cocked your head to the side, looking at the way he stared curiously. Remus had already forgone his god for you, and he was ready to forgo himself if you asked. 

“Will you kiss me again?” You asked, voice soft, almost innocent. 

“I’d do anything you wanted,” he said honestly and leaned into you, pressing kisses to your neck. You felt his skin against yours, rough and soft and you sighed at the blissful feeling his kisses gave you. His kisses went from your neck to your collarbone and then he tentatively brushed his nose over the valley of your breasts, looking up at your reaction before pressing a kiss to one of them. A  soft and innocent sort of kiss, before he actually opened his mouth and sucked on one of your nipples, nibbling on it when he realised you shivered at the grazing of his teeth. 

Then he continued going down, and slotted himself between your legs, feeling how wet you were over your thin lingerie. He teased you by pulling on the elastic of the knickers, and slid them down your legs before he pressed a kiss to your thigh; and while you were dying to feel his lips on your clit again, there was something else you wanted, something neither of you had dared to try with each other, and if things went anything like they had done the previous time he’d gone down on you, he would have been too spent to do it. 

“Not–” you breathed. “I want to do something else today.” 

He looked up at you curiously, his hot breath against your core sending shivers down your spine, “Yeah?” he asked, he was clearly as much in a haze as you were, absolutely and irrevocably drunk on you. 

“I want you inside me,” you breathed out. He looked at you as if your request was alarming. “Please.” 

There was nothing, not in heaven, not on earth, and certainly not in hell that would have made him deny you. He pressed another kiss over your thigh and then he moved you a little further up into the altar, climbing up himself so he had at least a little more leverage. “I’ve never–” he hesitated. “You’ll have to teach me, angel.” The smile you gave him was the most devilish one you’d ever given anyone, but to him it was nothing short of angelical. “Will you?” 

“With pleasure,” you retorted, pushed yourself up and turned the two of you around, now his back was on the altar. “It’s quite simple Father Remus, I’m sure you’ll master it in no time like you’ve done with everything else I’ve taught you.” 

He just stared at you, eyes filled with lust as he nodded in acknowledgement. You tilted your head forward and let out a soft sigh, lips curved into that same smile as before. You placed your fingers on his collarbone, “I assume you already know the way it works,” you said as you allowed your hand to lay flat against his toned chest, and then dragged it down. “Should I teach you that as well?” 

“If it pleases you,” he answered. 

You looked at him with a teasing grin and then pushed yourself up to straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs as you slowly undid his trousers and pulled them down. Once they were out of the way you went for his boxers, allowing your hands to brush over his thick-length just to hear his reaction, the groan he tried to suppress was nothing short of thrilling. You didn’t waste much more time before you too pulled them off. His cock sprang up, thick and proud. You bit your lip and dug your nails in your tight before you reached for it. 

Remus was sensitive, and you did not want him to come before he was inside of you, so instead of teasing him further with your hands, you accommodated yourself right on top of him and pressed yourself over his cock. Your folds wrapping themselves around it as you rocked your hips back and forth to coat him with your juices. You heard him curse and groan, and you were trying really hard to hold yourself together, but you couldn’t help the mellowing sounds that escaped your mouth as his cock brushed against your clit. He thought it was heavenly, he thought nirvana was at his reach and he wasn’t even from that religion. 

“So what you have to do,” you breathed.

“That wasn’t it?” he teased as he saw you attempt to raise yourself from his cock and fail, he placed his hands on your waist to help, but when he figured how good that particular position made you feel, instead of raise he pushed you down on him again, moaning at the way your folds made the skin of his cock pull back. 

“Well, that’s great for me,” you said as you leaned towards him and rocked your hips again, your lips so close to his that they brushed each other as you spoke again. “But I can make it better for you.” 

Remus wasn’t sure that was possible, but he had thought there was nothing better than touching himself with the thought of you and you had proved him wrong with your sweet lips around his cock. “I wouldn’t mind it if we stayed like this.” 

You rolled your hips again and he moaned, “Bet you wouldn’t,” you laughed. And then raised your hips again, his cock sprang up again, and you bit your lip as you looked down and reached for it, accommodating it towards your entrance. You brushed his tip against your clit a couple of times and moaned his name before slowly letting it find your entrance. His breath got caught in his throat as his tip entered you, “Is that okay?” you asked softly. 

“Fuck– yes…” he let out. You smiled, and continued with your task, slowly sinking in deeper. Remus was moaning your name as he felt your walls stretch around him. “It’s… really fucking tight.” 

“If it’s too much I–” 

“Don’t dare stop!” He rushed out. You smiled and continued your careful descent until he was completely inside you. Your head was laying on his chest as the two of you panted, getting used to the intoxicating feeling the other brought. He was filling you up and making you feel things without even having to move.

“How’s that?” You asked as you clenched around him. 

“My god, did you just–?” You clenched again and he groaned. 

“Gather you liked it?” He gave you a look. “Tell me when you’re ready for more.” 

“More?” he asked confused, and you rocked your hips forward, he moaned and felt himself throb inside you, “Okay,” he breathed. “May I?” 

You nodded, he placed his hands on your waist again, helping you move your hips on him, and cursed, eyes closing shot as he got used to feeling so overwhelmingly good. You smiled and rolled your hips as you pushed yourself up, resting both of your hands on his chest and using them as leverage for rolling your hips even more. 

He accidentally pushed his hips into you, “M’sorry,” he muttered. 

“No, that’s good,” you encouraged, and he did it again. “You feel incredible,” he said, almost to himself. “You look incredible,” he added, looking at your face, brows slightly furrowed as you bit your bottom lip and rocked your hips on his, at the way your breasts bounced with the rolling of your hips. 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t love his praises. He was always so adamant with them, and they always made your stomach flutter, even now, as he was inside you. His thrust got more desperate, and you realised your weight was making it harder for him to move freely.

“Let’s– Let’s switch,” you stammered. “Take the top so you can move better.” 

“You sure?” he asked hesitantly and you nodded. He placed his hands on your back and carefully flipped the two around without disconnecting your bodies and started pounding into you with a little more urgency.

You smiled, and allowed him to rut into you, as he leaned closer to kiss you. “I like this position too,” he said with a smile.

“Mhm?” you asked as you looked into his eyes.

“I can kiss you as much as I please like this,” he said and closed the gap between your lips, biting on the bottom one as he pulled back to look at you again. You clenched around him in retort and he moaned. “When you do that…” he breathed, his forehead pressed into yours.

His thrusts started to pick up the pace as if he was losing control over himself, you instantly knew he was close and dragged your hand down to your clit to rush your own climax. 

“What are you?” He asked and lost his trail of thought after you touched your clit and let out a soft mellow moan. Your knuckles brushed against his cock with each rut and he was quick to drag his own hand down –the one he wasn’t using to hold himself above you– and push yours out of the way to draw circles over your clit. “Good?” 

 “Mhm…” you moaned, eyes shut and completely lost in the feeling of his hands on you. He pounded against you again and somehow reached that spot inside that made you squirm. Your panting increased, and your heartbeat quickened even further. Remus, who was adamant on seeing every single reaction his touch made you feel, decided he had to do it again to hear that sweet sound of yours and soon enough he had you melting for him. 

Now he had been the one to take you to heaven, so perhaps he had, in a way, converted you back, since you once again believed such a place existed, even if it was just for a second. 

“I think I’m going to–” he cut himself off when he felt cum shut out right inside you. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he said as he tried to get out. But you were faster, gripping onto his neck and dragging him to a kiss. 

“It’s okay,” you clenched around him, feeling yet another ribbon of his warm cum inside you. “Please do it inside.” 

Remus tried not to moan at your request and hid his blushed face in your neck as he continued to thrust inside you, movement erratic as he milked the rest of himself on you. 

When he was done, he fell on top of you, his head beside yours as he breathed thickly, his weight crushing you in a way that you thought was insanely pleasurable. After a few minutes, you tilted your head to the side and reached your hand up to play with his hair as leaned your lips close to his ear. “So, how was it?” 

He scoffed at your question, you definitely knew how insanely good it had been for him. “As if it weren’t obvious.” 

“I’d still like to hear you say it,” you said with a wicked smile. 

“Insane,” he said and turned to look at you. “Absolutely, and undeniably mental.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I thought I was in heaven.” 

“Maybe we both were,” you said honestly. He pulled from you and allowed himself to lay beside you, not missing the way his cum slid down your folds. You slotted yourself in between his arm and his chest, and brushed your hands over his toned chest. 

“Father?” you started. 

He turned to you,  “Don’t call me that anymore. I’ve broken my vows, I’ve killed him.”

You looked at him with a sort of forlorn expression, “I’m sorry,” you said honestly. You had wanted him so much, that you hadn’t thought of how your wishes would affect him. 

“Don’t be,” he said with a smile, “I am not.” 

Even if he had shattered his vows, even if he had broken most of the church’s rules, he’d had seen heaven, and he did not want, and wouldn’t want to go back from it. Remus recognized every single thing he’d done wrong, he’d seen his vileness, but he decided he’d go on with it. 

Because how could it possibly be wrong to kiss you? How could it be wrong to touch you and to feel himself inside you when it felt so good? There were no righteous men and no catholic god that could have convinced him that what’d he’d done with you was wicked, not when he saw your smile, and not when he looked into your hypnotising eyes. Every single thing about you was perfect, and he wouldn’t have changed a thing of what he’d done. 

Remus had decided to switch religions, he’d decided to get a new creed, he now fervently believed that you were his everything. 

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post. Comments are my life fuel, so send them out if you have any. I've also got a Kofi if you're interested.

TAGLIST: @msblacklupin @lupinslvt @nperoconelcositoarriba @peteslovr @kissmeunicornbaobei @skaryles @propertyofrjl @ashstillalive @kissmeunicornbaobei @qvecu @randomfangirl32 @lilac-wrists @opalesquegirl @remusmuse @ittbag2332 @fictional-magic @bqnners @spicymayyo @ilovesmutsmut @chaoticthoughts2022 @marriedtoremuslupin019 @unstablereader @starzpuppy @desikudisworld @fictional-magic

Read more Marauders Fiction

[midnight-mourning]

Pun War. (Sun x reader Drabble)

Requested By: @starspindle

Word Count: 498

Summary: You and Sun find yourselves in a heated battle fit only for the cleverest of jesters, but all's fun in jokes and war until one of you makes a slip up that might be a step too far. Or is it?

Note: This was very fun! It put my pun skills to the test. It also proves that yes, I CAN write fluff. Hope you enjoy ^-^

*********************************************************************

"This is quite the disASTER, isn’t it?" You had said, picking up one of the scattered flowers in hopes of calming down the child in front of you. Note to self, maybe save any projects with plants for the older kids. 

It worked though, the little boy giggling as he scurried away, a few fistfuls of flowers in his hands. 

Sun, having overheard the joke from where he was currently managing the other children called out, "I’m rooting for you, Sunshine!"

It took you a moment to notice the pun, but then you smirk. 

"Thanks for being such a good bud-dy, Sunny."

He bows, eyes uplifted with glee, "My pleasure, Sunflower."

Throughout the rest of the morning, the two of you go back and forth with your puns. Switching from plants to anything around the Daycare seamlessly. Also seamlessly, the puns you make become more, flirty, in nature. 

"You brighten my morning."

"You've got me hooked on you."

“I crayon believe I get to spend all day with you.”

It's when you're on your lunch break that things start to escalate.

"You're quite a snack, you know."

Sun waves the last child for the morning group goodbye, shutting the door as his faceplate spins, "I think you're quite aDOORable, really."

You try to think of something good to fight back with, quickly realizing your options have started to run thin.

Then, you look down at your sandwich, and hold it up with a grin, "Yeah, well, I loaf you."

You expect a witty comeback, it doesn't come. Instead, you watch as Sun freezes completely, eyes widening at your words. Your smile falters. 

Internally you start berating yourself, 'Too far, too far, I went too far-'

"Starshine."

Coming out of your head you find Sun bent down in front of you, tone serious, "Did you really mean that?"

"I," You look away, coughing, "I, um."

His hand goes under your chin, tilting your gaze back to him.  

"Be honest with me. Please," He pleads.

You bite your lip, and sigh, "I, yeah. I-I did."

You close your eyes, cringing for the obvious negative outcome of such an admittance-

You feel a soft bonk against your forehead, then your cheek, your nose, and lastly your lips. You open your eyes in time for Sun to pull away again, rays spinning and a gentle spring in his words, "I love you too."

"Oh-um, really?" You squeak. Your face is burning. 

He laughs, it's light, sweet. His hand cups your cheek, "Yes, wheely."

You're confused for a moment before you think to look down, seeing that he's now standing on the wheels which are usually hidden in his shoes.

You puff out your cheeks, shooing his hand away as he laughs again, "No fair. How am I supposed to make a comeback to that!"

"Simple," Sun boops your nose, "You can't."

The rest of your break is spent sharing heartfelt grins, giggles, and maybe a few more kisses, just for good measure.

*********************************************************************

Requests are still open until 12:30 PM EST Tomorrow (9/23/24)! Check out the original post for rules and such :) Thanks for reading!

[fumifooms]

I should have touched on dark elves in my beauty standards post... Let me just slap this on here real quick. So as we went into there, beauty standards can show political dynamics and sort of reflects the politics of who get to be seen as human, who get to be seen as desirable and promoted within a society. So like, beauty is power right, in the sense that beauty standards are highly influenced by the ones in power, the ones who have the time & resources to look a certain way and the power to present that look as desirable to large groups. It’s complex and diverse but generally beauty standards are upheld by the elite, the influential.

By the former 'time & resources' thing I mean stuff like clothes, health, makeup or even cosmetic surgeries, or even simply the freedom to only go out in public when you look your best— Meanwhile the latter, the power to present that look as desirable to large groups, usually applies more to situations where it’s about a whole category of people like an ethnicity that was uplifted as the ideal. Not just in a political or economic dynamic, but discrimination on a systematic level without regard for individual appearance or action.

For example in the former, not all people who wear makeup are rich, and while makeup did historically help signal status, if you’re poor and wear nice makeup you can still touch some of that beneficial association with the beauty standards that makeup helps you attain. In the latter……. Well you get, "no, all elves are good! So the elves who do bad things must be something else!". Where, in trying to have uniform standards for a whole group, you kinda just get erased or othered if you don’t conform to expectations. The elves especially put effort into giving off this air of perfection, which they've successfully made tallmen populations believe. So, for those people, the answer that "But elves are inherently good and beautiful and perfect?" asks, isn't "well elves mustn't be inherently perfect", but instead is "there must be bad ones too, innately too." A similar phenomenon happens with the reverse too, where people will say there are "the good ones" within a group that's seen negatively.

"But Fumi, in this case the difference is purely linguistic and perceived, there’s no visual difference!" Yeah, and there being little visual distinction between two groups has never stopped people from being discriminated tbh. Different types of christians seeing each other as heathwbs for example, or the deep british vs irish hatred that has existed. A tidbit of history I find fascinating was the infamous use of "speak white" from english-speaking canadians against french-speaking canadians especially, because complicated history aside, last century as the business owners the anglophones had the power over the majoritarily francophone working class and a lot of political sway even though they were the minority in the Québec region. There’s a different cultural and ethnic identity there, and language was the most important difference between the two groups- and I suppose the most noticeable one.

The way we as social creatures and social groups categorize people and the groups they form is complex, interesting and very important to our society and the way we approach both the world and social interactions, and that's what leads to discrimination. We decide what’s important and then we decide it’s what people should be judged and distinguished by. Belonging to a group is a show of status, and can be a weaponized both ways, for and against. If you’re not worthy to be an elf, a "good" elf, then you’re not.

Interesting especially because looking at the elf portraits page there seems to be many different cultures within the elf race, so yes "good elf" vs "dark elf" is considered something like a race rather than an ethnicity or culture presumably. There's definitely a "main" elven culture since it seems pretty uniform whenever it's brought up in the adventurer's bible and the story, though, wether the differenr cultures form different communities in different places or live together as one nation. But maybe more treated like a mental illness since it’s acquired, or sometimes slang? It's not completely clear wether it's thought of as fully innate or something learned, a chosen moral failure like sin is, but with how they speak about it they do sound very essentialists, even Chilchuck seems to get a chill considering Marcille could be one. Quoting Kui's lore comic, "There are two kinds of elves, nice holy elves and evil elves bewitched by darkness". It’s just considered like an innate thing that separates them from the concept of elves... 🤔 But this sort of category being vague is often a feature and not a bug, because then they can be a boogeyman to bring up just whenever is convenient, that can fit whoever, like calling a kid a "fairy's child" for whatever behavior in the olden days, because if you don't precise a lot what a dark elf is then it can apply to whoever you see fit, and it doesn't need to be coherent or consistent. The sort of discrimination headspace that leads to the classic fascist "the enemy is both strong and weak" type rethoric.

"Dark elves" is interesting within Dunmeshi because it's about people trying to fully separate elves from the concept of bad and untrustworthy people, even though they look the same. "Elf" isn’t just a beauty standard, it is The ultimate ideal of perfection both in appearance and morality, and if something threatens that perception and reputation it has to get rationalized and compartmentalized. Those are coping mechanisms to avoid having your whole world view challenged or shattered. To tallmen who practically worship elves, it’s a huge deal!! To them that makes it make sense! Some elves are born good and some elves are born evil, simple as! No world view re-examination needed!

So for Marcille for example... It’s interesting because she has an outside view of elven society despite being elven herself. She was raised amongst tallmen, aka the people who idolize elves to this intense degree. It had to have affected her dynamics with others— not unlike the academy students, mostly gnomes and tallmen, who looked up to her as some natural-born genius, even though she did do research and study to get her skills and grades. It also had to affect her relationship with having a role model growing up (having none around except for her mother who pretty much renounced her elven culture, a novel series that sensationalizes and glamorizes elves), her dynamic with being elven itself, because even though she doesn't feel like she fully fits into it she's interested in elven culture, and she herself enforces the beauty standards around elves and acts elitist about it- as seen when tallmen actors playing Daltian Clan opera, when men are very masculine rather than very androgynous like with Laios, having long hair, having no facial or body hair. With this angle, all of this behavior of hers is very "internalized high standards that were my bible to follow growing up and so others must follow them too and these high standards must be worth upholding".

Considering everything, elves being looked up to as a role model in appearance and behavior, plus them having the reputation of being great at magic, and Marcille having grown up amongst mostly tallmen, we start understanding that there was IMMENSE pressure on Marcille to conform to that idea of an elf. She has a lot of pressure and a very high beauty & behavior compass to conform to. She also has an idealist and rigid sense of justice and morals, like how Namari is a heartless traitor for leaving instead of coming along to save Falin, and she needs people to believe she has noooo facial or body hair. She probably WAS afraid of being seen as a dark elf, aka fundamentally evil, for her dark magic research. You don't want to be a letdown, do you? You don't want to be the ugliest elf, do you? You don't want to be a dark elf, do you? You don't want to be one of the bad ones.

Shave your facial hair and deny you have any body hair. Take care of elven traditions like hair-braiding and have pride. Be the kind, smartest model student. Do magic by the book. Never do dark magic. Ah shit-

And so she hid the domain of her research, and so she hid being a half-elf.

[megumishotgf]

cabin holiday with bf! katsuki

summary: going on a cabin vacation with your pro-hero boyfriend, katsuki.

warnings: some nsfw content (like three sentences detailing sex) oopsie

masterlist

thinking about renting a cabin in the middle of nowhere with katsuki. he sustained a injury during a difficult mission a few weeks ago and the hero commission insisted he couldn’t come back yet. you know how damn impatient your boyfriend is - he is itching to get back to his job. he physically cannot function without a routine. staying in bed all day? not a chance in hell.

you suggest going away with katsuki for the final week of his time off. he agrees because what the hell else is he supposed to do with his time? also, he can’t say no to you. he feels like a fucking caveman for the first few days because there’s no internet. he’s always complaining.

“y/n, the hell did you bring me to this dump for?”

“you’re annoying. no, i’m not going to a damn spa!”

“there’s nothing to fucking do here. guess we’re going to have to fuck all day.”

but he settles in quickly. katuski is the perfect housewife. he cooks three meals a day for you, makes sure the fireplace is stocked on wood, makes sure the windows are closed so you don’t get those damn mosquitos inside… and, of course, he will act as if it’s the worst thing ever but he loves being able to take care of you. even if you insist it’s his time to rest, you know he hates being kept still and having nothing to do.

as katsu said, you have sex all the time. in front of the fireplace, in the shower, in the hot tub, on the kitchen counters… any surface there is, he wants you bent over it and begging for it.

on the second day, you decide to go on a hike around the cabin. you’re surrounded by tall forestland. the earthy air smells so good in places like this. you can hear birds singing sweet songs, branches crackling underneath your feet and… katsuki’s beautifully gruff voice. careful, dumb ass! do you want to fall over and die?

he’s concerned (terrified) that you’ll run into a bear but you tell him he’s just being silly. although if you were to encounter one, they would definitely feel threatened by your angry spiky-haired boyfriend who constantly looks like he’s about to throw hands.

remember the spa you mentioned? the one katsuki refused to go to? after some convincing and head he agrees to go. but never for a massage. he doesn’t want anyone’s damn hands on him but yours. you spend time in the sauna, the pool and finish the day with manicures. of course, katsuki gets one nail painted to match the pretty colour on yours. afterwards, you’re glowing radiantly and he can visibly see you more relaxed. he notes to agree next time you suggest having a spa day.

the next morning, it’s beautifully sunny. the weather is uplifting and you wake up earlier than usual to start your day, the golden hues all around the cabin making you feel energised. katsuki has already gotten up to do a quick work-out (he won’t listen to you when you reprimand him about his injury). you suggest going out for a bike ride to appreciate the beautiful day.

on your bike journey, you drive past a field full of flowers. there’s lawns of wild flowers growing and swaying gently in the wind. you’ll stop to collect some. katsuki will take one of the daisies you picked up and tuck it behind your ear. my pretty baby, he’ll call you. your heart swells at his softness. you love seeing this side of him. the special side reserved only for you to see.

on your final day, you and katsuki decide to stay in the cabin and relax. it’s colder today, despite the sunny weather you had just the day before. katsu makes you your favourite breakfast. yeah, yeah brat. i didn’t make this for you. but of course he did. he always makes sure you’re eating well. he can’t keep his hands off you normally, but today he seems to be unable to let go of you.

the day ends in fucking great sex. katsuki is so touchy today and makes you feel so loved and desired. he’s got his hands all over you, his cock making sure to hit all your favourite spots. after prepping you with his fingers and mouth, obviously. and he drags it on so long until you’re begging for him to get to it. but he just wants to savour you and this moment. you’re so pretty. his pretty girl.

he’ll end the day confessing he’s going to miss this. and it hits you then that’s why he’s being so touchy. you’ll make an ‘aw’ sound because your boyfriend is so freaking cute. he scoffs when you call him that, though. katsuki gets back to work shortly after you come home. he’ll think of the night you fucked in front of the fireplace often and it’ll get him so noticeably hard.

[nellielsss]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Tσʝι'ʂ Bιɾƚԋԃαყ… αɳԃ ƚԋҽ Nҽɯ Yҽαr!

Summary: it's your man's birthday--and the new year! What better to reign in the new year by celebrating both? And at a festival no less! Ft: Toji Zen'in/Fushiguro CW: mentions of child abuse (pertaining to Toji) Note: two fics in the span of a week?! How amazing is that! Also I can't believe 2025 is already gonna be this week!!! Happy birthday to my #1 man everybody ☺️ Also this isn't proofread since I wanted to get it out before I'd be too busy to finish it in time, so there might be grammatical errors!!

To be quite honest, the New Year was yet another one of those holidays that Toji didn't give a shit about. Christmas, New Year's, Golden Week... none of those were anything memorable to Toji growing up. Why would he care when he had more important things to care about, like getting out of his shitty family and his shitty living situation? Why buy presents for people when he had nobody to buy said presents for and could just spend the money on horse racing instead? It was a no brainer for him, obviously. Just get through the week, swallow all those stupid "Happy New Year!"s from the stupid drunkards passing him by, and get on with his day.

And what was so special about the new year? The earth passed around the sun for another year--so fucking what? Everybody dies in the end anyway. People should loathe there being another year, because it means one year closer to death. January was also a shitty month on its own, so there was that.

There was also the fact that it was his birthday.

The painful reminder that he was put on this earth 20-something years ago, that his parents were stupid enough to not wear a condom or pull out that resulted in him being born into this equally stupid world. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid--all of this was so stupid. His birthday, the new year... he really couldn't give a shit.

But that didn't mean you couldn't care about both things!

The way you saw it, it was another year on this earth where the sun didn't explode and there wasn't a nuclear war that destroyed everything; and Toji's birthday meant that he had another year to look forward to being alive. That was just the kind of person you were: uplifting, vibrant, and always seeing the good in everybody and everything, especially your boyfriend.

(You didn't actually see the good in everyone; that was just a figure of speech. Plus, your boyfriend had a lot of good to see!)

This means that, for the past 2 years you've been together, you've gone all out for both holidays, dragging him to holiday festivals and making a day out of his special day, buying him presents when he didn't feel worthy of receiving such thoughtful items.

He's never even had a present from someone who wasn't his handler, and that's because he was contracted to him. All he's received is beatings and hateful words from his family, who made sure to make a nightmare out of what was supposed to be his special day. So, it didn't strike you as surprising when he cried his eyes out when he got his first present, but all of that was another story for another day.

So, here you were, putting on Toji's special black haori that you bought for him on one special day. It went perfectly with the dark green kimono that went perfectly with his dark green eyes. "Don't you look handsome, handsome," you mused, smoothing out the dark fabric.

He rolled his eyes and tried to play the compliment off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm not much of a fan of this kinda stuff anyway. 'Much prefer the sweats and tee I always got on."

"The ones you end up ripping while out on your job?" You teased, poking his chest with a long, manicured nail. "I can't have my boyfriend running around in rags. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I did, hmm?"

Toji snorted in response. "Hey, sweets, I'm the boyfriend here. Aren't I supposed to be the responsible one, spoiling you instead?"

"I guess I'm a fan of both," you shrugged earnestly. You stepped back after his haori was put on, and you went to look at yourself in the mirror with a big, confident smile on your face. The pink flowers on your red kimono went perfectly with all the little hairpins on your head, and the geta sandals you wore almost made you tall enough to not be dwarfed by the hulk of a man that your boyfriend was.

While admiring yourself in the mirror, Toji approached behind you and wrapped his massive arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "'N I'm a fan of you, sugar," he grinned with earnestness. "This color, especially. And all those cute little flowers you got in that hair of 'yers."

"Don't mess up my hair, Toji," you chastised him when he tried to play with the little pins. "One wrong move, and your 'sugar' won't be so sweet anymore."

He chuckled, shook his head, and walked away from you. "Right, right. Wouldn't want that happenin' anytime soon." He grabbed your purse and handed it to you, then wrapped the fur collar you had laid out around your neck. "And I wouldn't want you to catch a cold, either."

"Why, thank you, handsome," you giggled softly. "You ready to go?"

"Always if it involves you." He took your hand in his much larger one, pressed a kiss to the back of it, and led you out of the closet and the house.

Said festival that you dragged him to was just as amazing as always. The minute you got there, you dragged him to the first stand that you saw and played a game of ball toss (which he let you win, obviously; you didn't stand a chance at beating his assassin aim, and he'd much rather see you win than him), ate some takoyaki, and ran around doing whatever you two wanted to do.

"Let's go play that game next!" Was what you always said after every last game, dragging him around by the wrist with an unseen strength.

"Make sure my hand doesn't get yanked off first, doll," he chuckled simply.

At the dart toss, he decided to show off for you a little bit. What was the fun in simply rolling over belly-up when he can A. flex his biceps and B. show off his aim? He'd trained it for so long, so why not show off a bit? Each dart hit the bullseye, and he won you a giant New Year's special Hello Kitty plushie.

Which he ended up holding for you. You weren't lifting a finger, not while he was around.

Each game, each food stand, each little thing the both of you did only made the night more & more fun. He could definitely get used to celebrating his birthday and the New Year by playing silly little games and eating little delicacies here and there.

"Here, try this one!" You held up a bit of squid for him to try, and you fed it to him with your chopsticks. "Aren't you just the cutest little thing with your mouth stuffed, hmm?"

He narrowed his eyes at you with the food in his mouth and tried to say "shut yer trap" but instead sounded like he was muttering gibberish, resulting in you simply laughing and hugging him quickly.

Around you, the snow began to fall a bit more amidst the glow of the New Years lanterns, and all the little kids started to cheer for the specks of white snowflakes. Now, Toji wasn't a man who was hung up on the idea of starting a family, but it felt like a glimpse into the future that the two of you were going to build.

He didn't even feel worthy of having kids or a happy life in the first place. All those years of trauma, of being hit like a hurt dog & called a shit-stain on this earth had taken root in his brain, and digging them out felt like a job for an expert gardener (of which he was nothing of the sort), but with you, the light of his life, the angel of his salvation...

"Toji!"

You snapped him out of his little thought tangent and smiled at him. "Come, I wanna give you a present."

He grinned cheekily and let you lead him to a secluded area. "Oh? You finally gonna gimme that kiss you've been dangling over my head for so long?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, handsome," you chided with a little giggle. "It's something much more special than a simple kiss. Besides, haven't I given you enough kisses for the day?"

"Have some sympathy for the birthday boy, dollie," he said while clutching his chest dramatically.

You turned to the side, taking something out of the purse you'd brought with you. "I made this just for you, Toji." You handed him a little book and waited with an expectant smile on your face.

"Y'know I don't read much, sweets- ow!" He didn't anticipate the little flick of the forehead he received for that comment.

"Just open it already," you pouted impatiently.

It was a small book with a thick cover & back--more cover than book if anything, so this was definitely not an ordinary book. Turning the book open, his eyes lit up when he saw the little pop-up that came out of the pages.

In the little pop-up book, there were photos of you together ordered by date and event. There was the first time you met, your first official date, the milestones you'd completed as a couple...

In the back of the book was a small note that contained your elegant handwriting and read:

"Dear Toji, dear my future husband, dear the best thing that's ever happened to me! I'm not very good with words, but to put it simply: I am so incredibly grateful to be your sweetheart. To think that we're already celebrating your birthday again (and yet another new year!) is mind-boggling, to say the least. Time really does flow by when you're with the people you love. Your strength, your resilience, your self-confidence and willingness to grow and change despite all that's happened to you is an inspiration, and I find myself growing and changing along with you. Happy birthday, and happy new year!! Love, your sweetheart."

He didn't even notice the tears that were streaming down his face until the paper got noticeably wetter. He put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from sobbing, and he shakily closed the book. "Dollie, this is..."

"Hey, hey, big guy," you comforted him carefully, knowing how emotional he got sometimes. "It's okay to cry, y'know. It's okay to cry around me."

You encircled your arms around him and let him crush you in turn with his much larger ones, and you let him cry into your hair.

"This is... the b-best gift I've ever gotten," he admitted, muffled by the strands of your hair. "Thank you... thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so fuckin' much, I don't know what to do with myself sometimes."

"It's alright, you don't need to know what to do all the time," you reassured him, looking up at him when he pulled away from your hair. "You just need to know that it's okay to let others take the wheel, yeah?"

He nodded, wiping his tears with the back of his sleeve. "Got me cryin' like a little bitch here," he said, chuckling chokingly.

"And you're not a little bitch," you reminded him by flicking his forehead. "You're Toji, my Toji. No amount of tears will ever change that."

"Aye aye, dollie," he joked, even saluting you.

You simply raised an eyebrow and snorted. "C'mon, let's go write our wish for the New Year before the clock strikes twelve, 'kay?"

At the shrine in the center of the festival, the two of you took two things of paper and went to the shrine. You both turned from each other to keep things a secret, although it's not much of a secret when you both wrote "a happy life with my future wife/husband" on your papers.

Once written, you both hung them up and walked away from the shrine. "So, what'dya write, dollie?" He asked, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"It defeats the purpose if I tell you what I wrote, genius," you retorted (with another sassy look from your end).

"Guess you're right," he shrugged. He pulled back his kimono sleeve to eye the time, and he realized it was already 11:52 and the new year was about to arrive sooner than he'd expected. "Shit, guess it's gonna be 2025 real soon, ain't that right?"

"Time flies when you're having fun with your man," you giggled cheekily.

He reached around and smacked your ass real quick after you said that. "And ain't that right as well," he replied with an equally cheeky grin.

As the minutes ticked by, you thought about how incredibly blessed you were to have each other in your life. You'd started and were about to end the year with each other, at the same festival that you'd attended last year. He used to hate sameness and repetition, always searching for something to spice things up...

But he didn't need to search for anything when he had you.

Turns out, the only thing he needed to spice up his life was someone who could give him the stability he so desperately craved and needed to survive.

He was so used to turbulence, to not getting a day nor night's rest, that he'd forgotten to stop and smell the roses.

"Five, four, three, two, one!" Those numbers caught him off guard, but he didn't have to worry when you kissed him right as the new year rang in.

"Happy New Year!"

© nellielsss on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 12/31/2024

[lastoneout]

Something I've noticed that is like...concerning but also just really annoying about online discussions about basically any topic these days is something that probably already has a name but that for now I'ma call "death of nuance via strict binary thinking" which leads a lot of people to get very angry over the idea that two things can be true at once, or that bringing up someone else's problems does not overshadow or invalidate your own, or that you can uplift a group of people without tearing down another.

Because like, I've had this happen on several of my posts now, where I say a generally harmless, factual statement, and several people rush in to either outright accuse me of saying a different, more extreme statement or annoyingly "correct" me to fix the supposed ~dangerous implications~ of my words, which I'm not gonna lie is as infuriating as it is confusing.

I can't make a post about how sugar is one of the main things the human body runs on and thus trying to remove it entirely from your diet is dangerous and harmful without people showing up to be like "are you saying it's okay to eat an entire bag of sugar by the spoonful??" and "well if you ate nothing but oreoes and ice cream that would make you sick" even though that doesn't contradict or really have anything?? to do?? with my original statement??

I can't make a post talking about the issues men(trans or cis) face under the patriarchy without people showing up and getting mad at me for "making feminism about men" despite the fact that the majority of my feminist activism DOES center women and taking a moment to explore the ways the patriarchy harms us all in no way harms women. And I can't make a post pointing out that marginalized men, especially black, disabled, and fat men often have malice read into their very existence and maybe that's bad without people showing up to get mad at me for saying marginalized men are incapable of harm which is not what I said at all.

And this one is a bit different but still one I see a lot, which is an over-correction seeped in the idea that we can only uplift one group at a time, or if x group is good y group must be bad. Like I am all for pointing out that there's nothing wrong with not wearing makeup and having body hair and not wearing deodorant, and women who live like that are fine and valid and can still be seen as sexy and desirable, and yes there ARE things to critique about the beauty industry for sure...but then that manifests into thinking women who do shave and wear makeup and deodorant are ugly or weird or brainwashed and should be mocked, which..no? Or when the dialog shifted to talking about fat people being hot suddenly we had a lot of people acting like skinny women were ugly and weird when that actually doesn't help with fat liberation AT ALL.

(Also just to clarify I think the occasional joke about these topics is okay given how much mockery fat, hairy, and non-feminine women get BUT there is a point when you go to far and some groups of people are racing over the line.)

And like yeah you could say the internet has always been this way but there's been a real noticeable uptick in progressive leftists coming at complex issues with this kind of no-nuance thinking, when it used to be something I really only saw from conservatives. I'd see stuff like "well feminism is bad because men also have problems" and "oh black lives matter? are you saying other lives don't??" and "oh you think drug addicts aren't inherently dangerous well what about the ones who DO hurt people" or "we can't talk about trans women's issues that would take away from talking about cis women's problems" and "we can't have a fat character that's glorifying ob*sity" and we used to MOCK them for that shit. This was seen as RIDICULOUS and was generally considered a conversation ender because it's clear the people doing it aren't actually interested in having a conversation they just want to yell at you for something you didn't say or pull a huge "I am uncomfortable when we are not about me" which just...ough please stop.

So seeing like actual progressive people pull this shit is really weird and it happens so often I legit can't ignore it anymore. I don't really have a solution, but I just feel like some of us really need to wrap our heads around the idea that just because someone said one thing doesn't mean they're saying this other thing too. Which, when you put it like that, sounds like the kind of thing you learn in kindergarten but I digress. Someone saying it's okay to eat sugar, your body actually needs it, isn't necessarily saying it's okay to eat so many oreoes you get sick(or excluding diabetics or being a corn lobby apologist or whatever the hell else people on that post are accusing me of). Someone bringing up the ways the patriarchy hurts people who aren't women isn't making feminism about men or saying women don't have problems. Trans men talking about their issues isn't implying anything about trans women just like bisexuals or asexuals talking about their issues isn't taking space away from allo gay people. Someone talking about how assuming marginalized men are threats when they're just existing is bad and gets innocent people killed isn't saying OJ Simpson did nothing wrong.

Two things can be true at the same time. Nuance is important and making space to talk about one thing isn't taking away from someone else. There's no contest, no slippery slope so dangerous we can't even state facts, no pie you have to fight over. Oppression isn't a math problem where whatever you do to one side of the equation must be done to the other or a scale that can't be balanced. This kind of thought process isn't productive and will not lead to a better, more equal world. Just one where someone else is wearing the boot.

Just...idk please just stop coming onto posts assuming the worst, doing bad faith readings and then getting pissed about something the person didn't say, assuming someone else getting a seat at the table means yours is in danger, being so desperate to be a good ally that you start doing lateral violence and calling it punching up, and just full on stealing conservative talking points and argument styles and trying to make them progressive.

We're supposed to be better than this. That's all I've got really, we're just supposed to be better than this. And while I don't always engage with people like this for obvious reasons, I'd like to think they aren't beyond saving and maybe this post can change a few minds. You guys aren't wrong to be angry and want to help and protect people who need it, but this is not the way to go about it and it never will be.

[liviawildrose]

𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

tw:- mention of family drama, possibly a bit heavy on words

hi loves, i don’t even know where to begin, but i feel like i need to get this out. this month of january, hell, this past lifetime, has been heavy. there’s no other way to put it. some of you know bits and pieces of my story, but for those who don’t, let me lay it out a little.

my life in general has always been a rollercoaster of pain, heartbreak, and challenges that felt almost impossible to overcome. i’ve faced emotional and physical abuse, been compared, belittled, and manipulated by the very people who were supposed to uplift me. it’s been a journey of toxic relationships, broken trust, and trying to find my place in a world that feels like it’s constantly trying to push me down.

and yesterday? yesterday broke me in a way i didn’t even think was possible anymore. my dad. well, let’s just say he decided to remind us all of his “power” by throwing me, my mom, and my siblings out of our house. and he kept pushing me, my mom, my two siblings (a ten year old and a four year old) all because my mom refused to do what he told her to do (and why she refused? because apparently he cheated. yes my father cheated on my mom but he expects no consequences of his actions ‘what kills me is that he laughs during their argument’ that shows he has no remorse and infact he has the audacity to give example of other people who did it and their wife didn’t make a scene out of it) so i pushed him back the moment he pushed my mom and i screamed at him “you don’t have any shame for what you did and you don’t care either you just want us to be your servant” and guess what my mom slapped me. she slapped me for not letting that man i unfortunately have to call my father disrespect me or us and yeah he pushed us out. we were vulnerable and scared but something in me kept telling me i’ll rise from this too no matter what that i wont let this be the end of my story but i cried like i have cried a lot of times in january in general but yesterday one was brutal af. it felt like the final straw, like the universe was just testing how much i could take before i shattered completely.

but somehow, the storm passed. he called us back (after like five to ten minutes) and now we’re back at home, pretending things are okay. and maybe they are, for now. (my mom told me that he talked and now everything is fine) but the pain of what happened lingers, the reminder of how fragile things are. i journaled yesterday a lot trying to make myself calm down and i reminded myself that i should not let this moment break me but i should use this incident to motivate myself (use it as a fuel) to achieve the greatest possible success and happiness possible. it was really hard to fall asleep last night (man i can’t wait to take revenge on that man fr) but it’s all over now and i do feel motivated to get my things done and achieve all my goals and dreams.

and yet, in the middle of all this chaos, you were here. i woke up today to so many beautiful messages, people tagging me (especially @n1pp) and liking my posts, and reminding me that there’s still good in this world. that there’s love, support, and connection even in the darkest moments. you all are my little corner of peace in a world that feels so loud and cruel sometimes. you’re my safe space, my reason to keep going, and my proof that the universe can still be kind.

so thank you. for being here. for showing up. for reminding me that even when life feels unbearable, there’s still light. you are that light.

i don’t know what’s next for me. i’m still figuring it out, still healing, still trying to piece myself back together after everything life has thrown at me while trying to constantly push myself to build something that is unshakable (to build a wonderful life for myself and for the people i love) but one thing i know for sure? i wouldn’t be where i am without you. y’all make me wanna do better

thank you for seeing me, for supporting me, and for sticking around through all of this. i love you more than words can say.

forever grateful, your livia wildrose.

[ochrearia]

This will update in time, but for now all I have

I don't have the courage to post this myself so this will probably be scheduled for some horrendous time at night. I also don't have the courage to point out who is who because I'm scared maybe they won't like how they sound, though maybe if I go into detail too hard it might be possible to tell. Lol. This isn't everyone yet. I still need some more time to see who everyone is, blah blah blah, bunch of stupid abstract brain stuff, but. Playlist of my friends I've made here... yeah

Wounds- doesn't count because that's me. Decided to put it there because why not. I don't need to talk about myself let's be real no one cares about that

Norduris. Funny, somehow right away this was you. I love when that happens, when a song just reacts so strongly with the whole person in my head I'm searching for. Everything I've seen of you screams this song and it's. Beautiful to me. Always is but it doesn't get tiring. So much of you seems like it was locked away and buried in worry. Wistful thinking and hoping for the future. There is so much good in you. I think I'll stick around for as long as I can to help you see that. Kind and comforting. Creative and inspired just about every time I've seen you, I think. But I think you worry too much. There's fear and anger in there and I think, maybe, I wish there didn't have to be. Well, not the unjustified ones at least. But it all pools together for a strength that I think fits you. Still hopeful and still going. I like that about people... That might be a recurring theme for everyone really. But it's still you, too. Such slow waltzing shades of gray, like fog and the cover of rain. Pastel yellow like the sun, deep, deep green accompanying the rest. There you are, Kry.

Lost. You know the song titles don't really mean anything before you might ask. I never take it into account. Just the way it sounds. I also think you worry far too much but then again you've gone through for too much. But you are creative, and fun, and uplifting. Think you have a little bit of a habit of subduing yourself in fear of something I never quite know. But you are patient, so patient and I value that a lot. Especially when it's given to me. Nervous at times, needing permission before letting yourself shine. Wisdom about you that sometimes I really need to hear. You really know how to rile someone up in a playful way and I don't think enough people play into such things anymore. Wonderful to see really. Like a slow stream in a still air, deep, deep gray and neon blue. Streaks of white too, liminal in a way that reminds me of a barren tundra with nothing to be seen in any direction. Nothing but you. Hey there, Gold <3

daydream. Augh, I feel like my brain is stalling over how to put everything I have seen into words. Something about you just feels so positive, an upbeat air to you even if you're not feeling okay. You're still there, and I see you. Confident a lot of the time, and it's well warranted I believe. Other times not so much. Kind and caring like everyone I know here is, and a childlike excitement every time we talk that I do adore. God you know so well how to make other people excited with you. And you care, so much, I know everyone does but there's something about it with you that's just... electric, is the word I think. There's different styles of care but that one is yours. Funny. I think you make me feel safe in all the fucked up ways my own mind will talk to me. Maybe it's because I think we have a lot of similarities. It's always been positive with you, even when it isn't because you make caring about you easy. You know how the light of the sun shimmers on a body of water? That's kind of how you move, a sweet caramel brown and autumn orange, little drops of red about your air. So wonderful to meet you, Karl.

demise. Again, I swear the titles do not come into play with this. I suppose there's only so much I can repeat about someone being kind, caring, and fun before it starts feeling less special. I promise that never happens, no matter how many people I know like that in my life. Especially when your style of caring is just so... calming. And determined. Offering so much to people you care about even if maybe they haven't earned it yet. That doesn't seem to matter to you. You're giving it anyways. You're a giver, I suppose. You do a lot of creating and it's stunning. And you offer so much to others because you want to. Able to make people feel safe and like they matter. Love the mischief you get up to a lot too. Dedicated to so many things. Greens of jade and pastel grass, white all between them like a snow flurry. A bit of silvery undertones. I'm glad that I get to know you Shed.

Night Beacon. I held off for a few days more before considering you because I wanted to be accurate. There is something to be said about being quiet, in a sense that is positive and not whatever I say when talking about myself. A good kind of quiet, maybe mellow is the word I am looking for. I like when my friends are passionate and you are no exception. A certain type of calmness that I can't quite explain. I think there is a kindness in your ability to just exist and that may not make, sense, but it's the best I can say. You tough through a lot of things you might not want to do but there's a strength in that. And of course, you are creative. I make friends with creatives a lot. I think maybe you are the kind of person I would pick first to surround myself with. Chill overall that can swap into a more serious frame of mind whenever needed, knowing how to navigate around vibes and situations while being kind. And still someone who is enthusiastic about things you like in a way that isn't overwhelming. It's nice. Might put you on a loop more often than I should, lol. Peach and bright orange, with yellow mixed in with it. Along with a pretty desaturated beige, the best I can put it. Literally like the air of the world during a sunset. You should be proud of that Isaac.

Autumn Afternoon. I'd like to think you quite pleasant and lively despite your words of "This group space of which I have butted in". Who cares if you did do that? You butted in and we let you because we wanted to. You belong here with us, and with me. In my head singing sweetly the soul of who you are. You worry a lot. Hey, I do too. Maybe we both definitely worry too much. Being anxious kinda sucks. But you know what? Here you are anyway. You worry about your place but you still sit here and take it. That's wonderful strength and you might say "I owe it to everyone else" but you are still here. You have a lot going on that tries to work against you. A lot of us do too, if not all of us. But you power through anyway. Underneath all that anxiety sits so much passion. Excitement for things you like. You're a damn good artist and a life to have around. Pastel lime and steel blue, dancing like petals swept into the wind of faded silver, hinted with aqua blue. Yeah. You're a wonderful one there, Storm.

Hope. Honestly I take you for a very lively and bubbly person. You have a lot of ideas and you are eager to do them, to share them, stuff like that. Eager is a good word. I think that fits you the most really and that's not to be taken as a bad thing. Nothing in these are really meant to be taken as bad. Just to be taken as you. Curious and learning seems important to you. Being there, being around, I suppose you kind of bring an air that isn't something I can quite find words for, but it's a positive, I promise. Upbeat is a nice thing to be regardless of what you've ben through or are going through. Maybe sometimes you don't even feel that way but you still manage to convey that for the people around you and I think that's special. It's funny because most people wouldn't say gray and silver are necessarily colors that match to that idea but there you are. Lavender is there too, and a specific hue of blue that reminds me of warm and tropical water. Don't know the exact name for it. Kind of like a mix between a pinwheel and a wind chime, and I think it's very pretty, Lunar.

epitaph. You know we may not really talk as much compared to others on this list but that doesn't mean I haven't gotten to know you. You are still very outspoken about the things you believe in and the things you like or dislike and that's a strength I wish I would have myself. I guess the way I see it is you have a strong vocal presence regardless of what's being talked about. But despite that you can still be very hesitant and worry a lot about things, which is something I have to share. Doesn't always have to be bad. Can also mean that you care, and I really don't think enough people now how to do that these days. Caring is good. Space to keep people on your mind because you want to. Maybe there are still things you need to figure out and that helps to play into some hesitation, but when has anyone ever had things all figured out anyway? Stability is always something to seek, but you don't have to consider yourself any less for not knowing all the time. Things can be okay without it being certain. But you still work towards it, and that's admirable. Like having strength and perceived weakness in a balance. Gold and olive green, I think, off-white and a type of orange that seems like it's burning as it exists. Maybe that doesn't make sense. But, it is you, Damien.

[stick-ball]

saw a hc about jean moreau being hyper sexual especially post-ravens. thoughts? feelings?

thoughts AND feelings! Oh the joy of being given a chance for a hot second to discuss this. You came to the right place my love. ❤️

Trigger and age warning : rape, sex connected trauma, dissociation, psychological abuse, controlling relationships, discussion of sexual acts.

Okay so, being hyper sexual. You know who does that in the books? Andrew actually. I know some might look at me weirdly rn like, 'what the hell are you talking about, he doesn't let anyone touch him'. Yeah, that's true! But that doesnt take away from the knee jerk reaction. (I'm sorry I know this isn't exactly what you asked but I need to discuss andrew first, and that has a lot to do with jean, bear with me).

Andrew finds a partner that he can to some limit trust (leverage, deals, careful observation, "training" them to behave how he tells them) to follow his instructions, which gives him a sense of control. They can fuck, but it's him who's doing it. It's him who's touching, kissing ect. The other person, of course if they consent, get to partake but not create the experience. It's one of the very, very valid scenarios of hyper sexuality as a responce to rape. He is rewriting every poisoned nerve ending in his body. He doesn't actually get off from the sex. For his own release he needs privacy, as shown in the books. Andrew's problem can be, that due to his truly inhumane trauma he can fall into the mindset of defining his sense of self through sex. It's an action and he's a tool in this scenario. Then again, We circle back to control, which is also a key feature of his decisions and protectiveness. Taking total control of the situation which used to be utterly outside of it, with no way out of it. Rewriting it, giving the traumatic experience a positive ending, hell an ending - when, and as suddenly as he might want it to end, is the motivator here. I think what he finds satisfying in terms of sex, not control, is giving sexual consent to his partners and, which he finds just as important, them giving it to him. Because it wasn't given to him. It's a way of building trust.

The motivations sound pretty nice, even if heartbreaking, don't they? Seem uplifting? The problem is, even if in good faith, this process can be very harmful, trauma surviviors mention that (at least ones I discussed it with personally) it feels good, but in the long run it does what this type of coping mechanism always does to your brain (similiar reactions can be seen for different traumas), which is hurt it. It's a form of desensitisation that limits your brain's ability to percieve the situation. It's hard to rewrite and leads to hot and cold kind of reactions, so yeah, having a relationship with a capital R is, difficult. That's what I always understood as Nora saying they are never actually okay (andrew and neil). Or at least partly understood it as.

Okay, so this cleared a couple things up. Now JEAN. Jean and Andrew share some factors of their trauma. While not treated as such, Jean was technically fostered by the Moriyamas, and well, Andrew's experiences with being fostered are faaaaar from what it's supposed to be as well. The difference is in Andrew's situation everyone tried to pretend the horror is not happening, there must have been a lot of manipulation and coercion and just plain fucking gaslighting in these houses. Its hard to talk about but I can imagine some of these monsters wanted him to act like he is enjoying it, and thats just out if the emotional range of dealing with for anyone. Jean knew he's in a trap from day one. Moreover, when it comes to the rape's he was victim of it was ordered by Riko to be done by others. That's a different level of fucked up. What's even more important as distinction here is he stopped, when Jean stopped reacting and fighting it. Because what Riko wanted wasn't violation, that was the tool. He wanted to psychologically break him. When the fish stops flailing on the cat stops pushing it around.

And Riko was constant, his modus operandi was regular, and the psychological torture was the motivator behind most of his "conditioning" of Jean. This is a situation where the abuse has a cause for the victim. It sounds sick and I don't agree with it, but it's a game in their mind. In the books we can see that he learned how to limit the amount of attention Riko gave him and as we know he is not confrontational like Andrew with his problems. And yeah I don't mention Neil as confrontational here bcs he has conditioned himself to run from everything and say he's fine to everything so..., sometimes it erupts frk mit but that's not exactly the same, its a last resort.

Circling back, I think Jean is more likely to be sex repulsed. For him sex, which was a form of punishment, is a cause of anxiety. Sexual tension is easy to mix up with nervous tension because of a feeling of losing control of the situation. That's why if we do get romance in the new book, I am putting my money on it being very messy from his pov. The magical thing about trauma responces though, is that they're not black and white, and someone who is sex repulsed might also seek an ending to their anxieties through it. Yet, it's ts a bit of an opposite motivation to the one Andrew has. When Andrew thinks of himself as a tool, Jean is more likely to think of himself as an object. There's a difference. While Andrew wants to take control, Jean is more likely to use it as either a way to retraumatise himself - so his version of hypersexuality would include less control and more roughness and violence, actually trying to rile the partner up. It might stemm for him from low self worth or be a way of letting out his angers and frustrations. It's not that he is used to being hurt, it's that he doesn't expect anything different. I also think he is more likely to have problems with opening up in therapy. Where Andrew is active Jean is passive, and the opposite. The upside is he might actually be more likely to communicate emotionally than through rules and laws, it will take longer, but be a smoother transition, because more people understand it than Andrew's way of building relationships.

Hope this anwser satisfies you, I'm sorry if I got a bit carried away. ���

[thebestofoneshots]

u have no idea how excited I am for the corruption of sweet little embarrassed priest Remus

Just because of how eager you seem, I'm giving you a teaser to part 2...

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader

Prompt: You did not want to go to church that day, but your spirits are uplifted when you meet Father Remus, and your mind starts creating a mischievous scheme, to both retaliate over those years of being forced to go and take something from them.

Alternatively, R is really mad at the church and decides to steal one of their priests for it (but also kind of falls for him).

Warnings: SMUT

 Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Read No Sweeter Innocence than Our Gentle Sin Pt.1

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

“You may come out, father,” you said, teasingly. 

You heard some adjusting, “I’m having a bit of an issue.” 

You giggled. “Yeah, I’m gonna help you fix that,” you responded, opening the door yourself and taking his arm. pulling him towards you. He stood up and roughly accommodated his coat over his boner. You bit your lip as he did and he gave you a rather impassive look, as if telling you that whatever you might do, could be going overboard. “Do you have an office?” 

“No.” 

You hummed, dissatisfied at his answer. “A place where you guys give talks? like for people who are going to get married and stuff? I know I was in one of those when I was my cousin’s godmother.” 

Remus seemed to think about it. 

“We can’t go there.” 

“Why not? You don’t have the keys?” 

“I do! But it’s not safe, if someone walks in–” 

“Oh,” you said with a smile and looked down at his boner again. “I’m pretty sure it won’t take us too long.” 

Remus huffed, still rather unconvinced. So you placed your hand on his shoulder and pulled him down slightly so you could whisper something in his ear. His eyes shone and he turned to you with a gulp. “Are– are you sure?” 

You simply nodded in response. 

He shut his eyes and sighed, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“You’re probably right,” you agreed, condescendingly.

“That would be like crossing the line.” 

“I suppose it would.” 

“Let’s go,” he said. 

It was Remus, who looked preoccupied but determined, who led you to the back of the church. You walked right next to the altar your gaze lingered over it for a second before you went into one of the smaller rooms beside it, and then into another one. You knew the church was huge, but you hadn’t quite dimensioned it entirely. 

He was quick to come in and he shut the door. Turning to you as he bit his lip, he was still hard, and you leaned closer to him. “Allow me,” you said with an innocent smile, dragging him closer to the centre of the room. You placed your hands on his shoulders. “Breathe.” 

He did as told, a deep long inhale, and then a soft exhale, his breath smelled of mint, and a little bit of cigarette smoke. Remus had long ago stopped smoking, but since you appeared, and told him all about the things that’d happened in your dream, he’d taken up that terrible vice again, one of the few things that calmed his nerves. 

“Listen to my voice, I mentioned there was a way to control it, right? That I would teach you?” 

“Please do.” 

“Well, It’s quite simple,” you said as you rubbed your hands over his strong-toned arms, reassuringly. You were not expecting Father Remus to be so solid under all the religious attire, but you thought it was a wonderful surprise. You leaned a little closer to him, enough for your bodies to touch. You felt his boner against your stomach and you’d swear you felt how you clenched around nothing. But it’s not time yet for that. You told yourself. 

You knew it was a long game when you started and you were not about to ruin it all due to the heat of the moment, you weren’t that idiotic. 

“If you want to control those impulses, then you must give in to them.” 

He opened his eyes in surprise when you placed your hand on him, carefully, tentatively, and pleasantly subdued. Your hand was much softer and kinder than his own had ever been, much smaller too. He shut his eyes, his breath was ragged and looked like he might have been in pain. 

“Too sore still?” He nodded. “May I?” you asked as you placed your hand on his belt. He swallowed, unsure, and you stopped moving your hands. “Do you want to?” 

“But it’s wrong,” he excused. 

“Remus I didn’t ask if it was. I said ‘Do you want to?’ Because I’m dyiиg to touch you but if you don’t want to then we should end this here and now.” 

“No!” he said, almost too quickly. If he’d had the willpower, that might have been the one and only moment in which things could have turned around. The sharp crossroad of decisions that would have allowed you both to choose a different result. But he didn’t want you to stop, he wanted you to do it like he hadn’t wanted anything in his life before. “I want to,” he said in a low breath. 

You smiled, innocently, and started to unfasten his belt. Then slowly you went for the buttons of his trousers and the zipper. There, straining against his boxers, you could see the outline of his cock. Your breath hitched in your throat, he was big. You had seen that already but you hadn’t dimensioned it, but now, right in front of you? It was easy to see just how big he was, how pretty, you thought as you carefully slid the band of his boxers underneath...

Part 2 is out now!

Sweet little embarrassed priest Remus really does something to me, I cannot lie.

Read more Marauders Fiction

[padfootscoldleathers]

i'll leave (a light on) ch.6

ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4, ch.5, ch.6

Back at in the hotel Sirius and Mary choose a queen sized bed and pull back the covers.

Peter snuggles into the huge wide layered rocking chair.

"I've seen all the Barbie movies but I don't think any one of those could make me cry as much as Margot Robbie did." He gives a big yawn and smacks his lips together like a baby.

Marlene at the back mutters, "I thought Barbie was supposed to be fun and uplifting. That Zootropolis 'you can be anything' level delusional but still happy." She burrows herself under the covers but leaves her feet hanging out from under the blankets. Sirius drops himself onto the bed next to hers and Mary lowers herself next to Sirius on their bed with her back to the headboard and her long fingernails carding through his hair and scratching his scalp.

Like a notification pinged in his brain Peter crawled out from under his blanket fort and got up to peel her out her prosthesis. Then he massaged muscle relaxant into her stump. Some of which she didn't particularly have sensation in. Just an odd tingling under the numbness where he was prodding at.

"Thank you." He tucks her in like her Dad used to and plants a kiss on her forehead then her hair.

When Peter wakes maybe two hours later in a heat flash its 1 am. He scans the room and Mary's not there so he slips on his fuzzy slippers and wraps a blanket around his shoulders to go look for her. The rooms may be well insulated but the hallways are freezing.

He finds her at the hotel bar chatting with the bartender with an oddly shaped glass bowl of icecream. He plops down next to her looking like a polar bear and the bartender looks at him fondly. "If it ain't lovely seeing you again, Wormy."

The guy's voice is rough and raspy and the nickname is nostalgic which—wait how does some random bartender know me? So when he wills his eyes to fight the bright lights gleaming at him from under the shelves he sees the not stranger with a crooked grin carved into his face. Then he's suddenly hopping off the barstool, his blanket is falling to the sticky floor but Mary catches it. Peter's moving behind the bar where he plants a big fat, though brief, kiss right on the guy's mouth, which is returned.

"What are you doing here? I feel like we haven't seen you in forever!" Peter holds Tomny at the back of his neck and around his waist in a hug, hooking his chin over Tomny's shoulder. Tomny wraps his arms around Peter and rocks him side to side.

"I could ask the same and I did see you last Christmas so it hasn't been that long." Tomny kisses the top of Pete's head twice and lets go to get him a cup of pistachio icecream because maturing and growing up is realising pistachio icecream is superior and Peter's favourite. Something Tomny apparently remembered with how little they see each other but when you know someone as long as they've known each other does it ever really go away? For Tomny remembering the little things about people was as easy as remembering the spelling of his name.

He slides the glass next to Mary's and Peter makes his way back to the barstool again. Tomny plops a tiny spoon like a flag on top the icecream mountain and smiles, eyes twinkling all because of the way Peter's lips drop open in a small smile and he whispers, "I love tiny things."

"Mary was just finishing up telling me about how she can't sleep because she's having nightmares about her ex who doesn't know she's an ex yet. Who, in her nightmares, starts to up-end Mary's entire life right after she plays The Song at the concert tomorrow. I am trying to convince her that she is one, not a bad person for ending it."

Mary rolls her eyes at him. "I didn't say I feel like a bad person for ending it. It's the right thing to do. I know that. I just don't want her to find out from a video on someone's instagram of the show tomorrow."

"Yeah, okay. I stand what I said but it is a fucked up and very public way to find out. But she can't blame the wind for the mess it makes when you open the window. The same way you blame people for hurting you when you gave them enough room to do so. I'm not saying lock yourself away in a vault or be a rock and a river at the same time. I'm definitely not excusing what she did or what you did. For whatever reason you kept giving her knives to throw at you. I know you're trying to prove a point I just can't figure out what."

Tomny pauses to close out a couple's tab before getting nack to them.

"Something I have yet to teach you is that what comes out is what's inside. Sometimes whats inside people is hard to distinguish. So you get hurt, mistreated, abused and other times you get helped, cared for, kindness. It is a consequence of what it is to have people in your life. You're going to get the good with the bad and it takes a level of courage and peace to be as forgiving as you are. But if all you get from her is a pile of bullshit its because that's what's inside. And if you're drained after interacting with her then it's because it was already there."

It's something you can change for yourself but it's not something you can change for others. You tried to tell her but again it's not like she's answered any of your calls since Sirius asked you to perform. Its also a small thing in the face of the emotional trauma she gave you."

"Wait what? You were just waxing words of peace and wisdom and suddenly its 'she deserves it'? Aren't you supposed to be telling me to be patient and considering? That everybody makes mistakes?" Mary slips a spoonful of icecream into her mouth and slams his fist exasperated on the bar.

Tomny lifts an eyebrow at her completely unimpressed and she pouts and shrinks back.

"You are kind, not a saint. You give people second chances yes but there is a difference between patience and wasting your time. I'm supposed to tell you 'when someone shows you who they are the first time, believe them.' You just want me to tell you to forgive her. Where I am now of the opinion that she can eat dirt for however long she ends up living without water."

"Whatever, and I don't have emotional trauma." She mutters mockingly.

"Yes, and I have the brain of a jellyfish."

"When did you become so self-aware?"

"It must be the dilf in me," He mutters under his breath that she barely catches. Peter catches Mary as she almost falls on him and drops her icecream glass. Mary breaks out crying and hauls herself onto counter.

"Uh, uh. None of that, no crying and be careful."

She slides down from the counter top in her pjs even though the 3 of them were starting to draw eyes.

Tomny, the little boy she walked hand in hand with as they took their first steps at daycare. The brother she's had since they were next to each other in the NICU, her bestfriend.

He grunts at the force of her knocking into him. She practically wraps him in her arms and starts whispering so no one hears. "Not a dream anymore, is it?"

Mary can feel Tomny's chest shuddering like he's scared or relieved, probably both. "You are the bravest, most caring and patient person I know and you're going to be an amazing dad." She holds him more gently and sways with him, "I know you already are. You've been mine my whole life."

Peter's still on the bar stool hugging his blanket and watching them confused. "Why're you two crying? I've been here the whole time, what'd I miss?"

Mary swipes tears from under his eyes and Tomny smiles, "I'll tell you tomorrow when Remus is here." Mary and Tomny switch to Dutch.

"Tante Ri klinkt best goed."

"You haven't even met them. One of them can't even say that."

Mary gasps and coos at him. "One of? How old? How many?"

"Eleven and two. Sweet, protective, funny girl and her adorable little brother. I'll ask if they want to go to dinner to meet you guys."

"I can't believe you didn't call me." She slaps him back handed in the stomach and he winces. "Ik kan je helemaal niet tegen."

"Je mag van mij wel zitten, niemand stopt je.

I absolutely can't stand you.

You have my permission to sit down, nobody's stopping you.

Mary half asses a glare at him but he's just grinning back at her. Meanwhile, Peter's still on the bar stool staring deadpan past them trying to break the fourth wall for a confirmation from the audience that this is just disrespectful.

"I know I do it but it's just a different level of disrespect when you guys do it. Like we haven't been family since kindergarten and our families don't get together every holiday and webdidn't grow up together in my house."

"I'm going to leave to pick up Remus in," She checks the pocket watch hanging on her neck. "How's it almost 2:30 already?"

The three of them look around the hotel bar and it's empty apart from the cleaner wiping down tables and last bartender cleaning up behind the bar.

"Okay." She hugs Tomny tight and walks back over to a yawning Peter who finished both his and her iceream while watching them leave him out in their rapid, confusing Dutch. She looks at the bowl then him at several times. He slowly starts to grin and slides off his chair and quickly walks past her to the elevator while she stares after him with her jaw hanging open.

"It's on." she mutters to herself under her breath. Tomny walks up next to her with a new bowl of a half tiramisu, half pistachio and several maraschino cherries on top.

"Spa?"

"It's still open?"

"It's my hotel."

"Okay. Say, do your kids have arts & crafts stuff in the hotel?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I need to make an embarassing airport sign for Remus."

again do tell me if you want me to stop bothering you or if youre new and crazy and do want me to bother you with this fic thats gonna take forever because i am against my will a lover of dialogue oh also sorry i didnt update for three weeks i know no semblance of the passing of time also i was having an impending breakdown for two of those weeks that was sitting at the back of my mind waiting for it to be over WHICH IT IS but also isnt i get my grades back this wednesday pray for me oh and i hope you enjoy 500 words of me giving you advice i will ALSO be taking suggestions for uhh the sign mary's taking to the airport when she picks up remus AND reg because moonwater are besties

@moonyswarmsweaters @sspadfoot @thingthatoncewastruee @probs-reading @cheekyboybeth

@starving-marauder-lover @yourlocalbadgerscales @taleofapart-timepoet @mirrs-ball @tea-blankets-andstars

@where-is-vivian @amberlink @wastingawayinmyroom @ashes-to-ashesxx @percabeth-trash

@equippedtolove @moon-girl88 @jamespotterbbg @drunktayloratthevmas @labyrinthhofmymind

@s0ggyguts @nyx-taylors-version @will-vs-the-homo-sapiens-adgenda @siriusly-insane

[prime-adeptus]

it’s so sweet, knowing that you love me

Everything feels better when Genji is with you.

( genji shimada x gender-neutral reader | ~0.8k words )

content: emotional hurt/comfort, some fluff, established relationship (can be read as either romantic or platonic, whichever you’d prefer :)) genji loves u <3

etc: divider by cafekitsune; tagging @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network @ghostqueue; cross-posted on ao3

“I have not seen you around recently.”

You look up to find Genji leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Quite some time has passed since you first met him. If you were younger, you would’ve jumped out of your skin at his unexpected arrival, but you didn’t. Instead, you didn’t bat an eye, far too jaded to be surprised by anything anymore.

“I’ve been busy,” you say.

Your words feel practised, dishonest, though they aren’t entirely false. Between the increasing Null Sector attacks and the pressure Soldier: 76 has been putting on you, time has felt like it’s been slipping out of your hands. You wish you could be as uplifting as Lena, or maybe as relaxed as Cassidy. It’s never been in your nature to relax, you suppose, having been raised in a disciplinarian family. Yet here you are, curled up in your blankets as you wallow in self-pity, looking the most pathetic you ever have in front of him. 

He doesn’t seem bothered by it, something you can’t decide whether to feel thankful or upset about. Guilt begins to seep into your system as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. As if he can sense your spiral into pessimism—he probably can, he’s known you for long enough—he laces his fingers with yours, the metal cool against your skin.

A beat of silence passes.

“Genji?” 

He hums, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t like him seeing you in such a state. Genji caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. It’s hard to discern what he’s thinking. He’s been keeping his mask on more frequently, just out of habit, but a part of you wishes you could just see his eyes on you one more time.

“I know you didn’t mean to ignore me,” he speaks up, turning his head in your direction. “But I have missed you. That’s why I came here.”

You manage a weak smile. “I missed you too.”

“Cassidy has been asking for you as well.” There’s an amused lilt in his voice. “He said it’s sad not having his favourite sharpshooter around.”

That gets a chuckle out of you. “His favourite sharpshooter?”

“Yes. And mine too.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at how easily he says it. The fact that he’s holding your hand isn’t helping much, either. Still, it amazes you how a simple two words can make you feel the lightest you’ve ever been. You missed this. You missed him.

“Don’t say it like that,” you mumble, flustered. “I’m trying to mope, Genji.”

“I am not allowing it.” He lets go of your hand and you’re already missing his touch, your bottom lips slightly jutting into a pout at his sudden movement. It doesn’t last long, though, now that he’s shifted his position so he’s laying his head on your lap. “And I was only telling the truth.”

“Shut up.” There’s no actual malice in your words. Even without your other hand coming down to cup the side of his face, you think he knows that very well too. “You can’t just come in here and get me all soft and mushy, you know. You’re so mean.”

“I am mean?” he retorts in mock offence. “I tell you that I miss you, but I am mean.”

“Yeah. The meanest.” You giggle, bringing his hand up to your lips to press a gentle kiss on it. With a pleased sigh, you feel your worries ebb away and let yourself sink into the comfort he brings you. “I’ll probably come back tomorrow. I’m feeling better anyway—”

“You will come see me first, yes?”

You playfully nudge his head away, avoiding his gaze again because somehow it’s like second nature for him to make you feel this way. Like you’re a blushing protagonist of a romance story. In a last ditch attempt to keep your cool, you clear your throat and say in the most deadpan tone you can muster.

“Actually, I think I’ll see Winston first.”

“You would prefer him over me?” You can practically hear him sulking. “And you say that I am mean.”

You find yourself smiling at how natural it feels to fall back into this kind of rhythm with him despite all your setbacks and isolation. It makes your heart swell in joy, being cared for and understood by someone like him. 

“Hey, get up,” you urge him gently. He does so without question, though he still tilts his head at you curiously. You scoot forward, finally leaving the mass of blankets to throw yourself in his arms, pressing a kiss to where his cheek would be. “I love you, Genji.”

He lets out a content sigh. “I love you too. You don’t have to push yourself so hard.”

You fall into a comfortable silence. In the embrace of the one you love, you’re slowly lulled to a peaceful slumber until he speaks up again, this time sounding genuinely concerned.

“But you will come see me first tomorrow, right?”

Your laughter is all he hears.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

BR/AVE

{ "Don't dedcate to anyone elss but me." / "I'll give it my all!" }

Blinking at the male, you hold out the package in your hand. Uniform covered by your coat as you gaze at his pitiful appearance. The cold, tired stare, a dark hoodie, body slightly hunched over. He seemed meek, even skittish to a degree. 

Tamon Fukuhara.

You raised a brow in familiarity, you knew him.

…In a sense.

Sighing through your nostrils, you offer a smile.

“Package for… You?.” You say gently, treating him as if a wild animal that might be spooked.

“Ah… T-Thank you.”

He… Closes the door further, sweating bullets as he gazes at the small item in your hand. Taking a more daring approach, you step closer. “E-EEEK- !” He hides his scream with a cough, cowering even further.

“...”

The two of you stare at each other as you feel your lips wobble.

You laugh.

“HAHA-  Oh, god-! I-I’m so sorry… It’s just… You seem pretty brave!”

You reply proudly, making sure you’re eyes met his after the giggle fit. “I-I.. I…” He tries to spit out any words, mumbles of worries and jumbled sentences leave him. 

“Oh god- you probably think I’m weird-! Or some incompetent dumbass that can’t talk for shit-!” He collapses on his knees, head banging on the door as he wails. “ BRAVE?! I’m the least of that-!”

“..Okay.’’

“You had EVERY right to laugh-!”

You cut him off, choosing to kneel down to where he sat. “No, no I didn’t trust me. If someone saw that, they’d think I'm a jerk.” You recall a certain fan who'd probably bite your head off at such a action.

You offer out the package once more, “So… You gonna’ take it?”

“...Yes…” He nodded, slowly reaching out to the box. Losing your grip on it, he takes it fully. Glancing at the item.

“Uh..Um..”

You stand up, watching him fiddle with it, confused.

“T-This is.. The wrong address.”

You laugh again, this time at yourself.

-

After apologizing for the whole mix-up, he too started bowing his head. Even if he had no need too.

Soon, you kept seeing his strange presence pop into your life, (since he wore a paper bag on his head, you could easily spot him in the crowds).

A strange acquaintance-ship bloomed into your life. While, you were cautious enough to not go deeper into this situation-ship with him.  You didn't mind pulling him along on your daily outings.

“Y-you.. Always laugh at everything..”

He mumbles to you one day while you dragged him to get some new tableware.

Mulling over what cups you wanted, you turn your attention to him. “Yeah… Is that bad?” You tease him a bit.

“NO! Of course not…” His voice falters a little, clawing at his hoodie strings nervously.

“I.. I really like it, your laugh.” 

Pulling your lips together, you hold in your grimace, choosing to nod. Knowing the words on your tongue weren’t needed.

Turning away from him, you gaze at the two pink tinted glasses. Picking them up, you huff at the bargain. “Ha.. I think I’ll buy a couple of these.”

“Those?” The paper bag tilts slightly.

“Yeah, reminds me of your hair.” You reply, keeping your eyes trained on the glasses as you place them within your basket. Walking to the next aisle, you pause.

“...Fukuhara?”

Said male, held his paper-bagged covered face. Jittering and shaking as you hear his gloomy words ring out.

“Reminds them of me… I’m not worthy as their friend…”

Face scrunching up, you hold in your mirth as you walk back to his side.

-

Kinoshita Utage was one your favorite MC's as of late. With an optimistic smile, the passion the fan held for F/ACE or specifically. Tamon, the supposed, wild and sexy idol of F/ACE.

You loved seeing their growth with one another. It was sweet, uplifting! 

You recall grinning in amusement at their antics on the page. Looking forward to each installment with baited-breath!

So, when seeing Kinoshita, you absolutely wanted to bare-witness the events live! Knowing that the plot will start soon.

…But you’d have to get used to seeing Tamon’s face plastered in their room.

“You still haven’t told me your bias yet!” They squealed, cradling her Tamon hand fan. 

You shrug, “Does, all them, count?” You play dumb. 

“Yes- but-!”

“Then all!” You make a show of it, getting up as you spread out your hands with a small twirl. “The entire group!” You state as a fact.

Utaga laughs at your antics, tone becoming serious. “IF you had to choose ONE member though?” 

“Tamon.” You blurt out easily.

Utaga excitedly gets up, grabbing your hands. Eyes shinning with utter joy at the words, “I know right! He’s amazing!”

“...The best.” You give back a reassuring squeeze.

-

“(Y/N)...!” Utaga sobs out, starry-eyed.

“This is… Beautiful!” Holding up the shirt high, she gazes at the details of Tamon’s face. Tracing the fabric in awe as you lean back. “Well, I thought a Tamon themed goodie bag might’ve lifted your spirits after exams.”

“It DOES- Awah! You’re too good to me! You’re amazing!” Placing the shirt (carefully) to the side, next to the Tamon plushie. Grabbing you, hugging you close, grip firm. Tearful praises singing out as you to grin like a fool.

“You’re welcome!” 

-

“You know THEM!”  The two teens point at one another.

“Of.. Of course (Y/N) has friends outside of me… I’m a terrible friend…” The pink haired idol bemoans as the brunette tries to cheer him up.

“Now hold on-! You’re not! What would (Y/N) say if they heard you say that!” 

“Y… You're right…” He crumples into himself on the couch. Noticing (Y/N)’s contact picture on Utaga ‘s cell. A affectionate smile worms its way onto his lips. “That’s… A really good photo of them.”

The fan (internally) explodes from the gaze their oshi produced. Immediately offering up more photos that were on the phone of you. The two gush over each new difference in each photo.

"Ah! They lent me that jacket..!"

"Lucky! I was wondering why they weren't wearing it the other day."

-

[Some silly, indulgent fic for me and fans of Tamon B-Side! I hope when the anime comes out, the series will get more love! I really want some merch of it! If anyone wants a mini/series of this. Please let me hear your thoughts! Comments appericated and reblogs! Thanks!]

[bibibbon]

The line is actually on the next page (4), the same page where Twice puts on his black shirt. It's the third panel. There's a second another speech bubble commenting on Endeavor's fans being mostly young men.

"While the number of incidents Endeavor's resolved is certainly high, the instances where his furious disposition has gone too far are are not few either." Chapter 115

Oh Iam so sorry anon!!

Yeah this is spot on! And also very much holds your point and so does the previous page.

Enji is incredibly violent and thats not a good look heck the heroes, the civilians and the villains don't like him but I suppose he is high on the list for the amount of work he is done and the weird demographic that he has seemed to acquire.

I want to comment on that demographic but I don't think I can actually put it into a proper conscience response so I won't say much but what I will say is that it's not a good look on enji and something something about toxic masculinity and the whole red pill ideology.

We haven't actually seen a lot of enji fans in canon but the ones we have seen aka inasa end up being very questionable characters.

This is also the reason when all might points out that enji and bakugo are similar or that bakugo and enjis have parallels it's not a good look on bakugo (even if enji gets a horrible attornment arc)

That aside I do actually wanna talk about how the reporter says that we shouldn't passively protect the status quo just in the end for the status quo to be preserved and be uplifted by hawks and the heroes.