Remus Lupin X Fem!reader - Blog Posts

in regards to perv!marauders . . . theyd so get off on the more innocent pics of you— it could be a polaroid of you smiling and it’d be covered in cum by the end of the summer bcos your innocence is so hot to them

i am losing my mind at the thought of this. the mere thought of corrupting you torments perv!marauders and something about the contrast of their filth paired with your seemingly pure disposition makes their cock throb.

the photo usually always comprises you beaming, presumably looking up at them through the camera, batting your eyelashes prettily, looking so radiant and cute. i can picture a photo of you leaning against their palm, their large hands caressing your cheek while you peer up at them. maybe it’s that sleepy look of yours; maybe it’s your flushed face or your puffy, watery eyes; or perhaps it’s the gloss on your lips that makes you look so girly and kissable that has them groaning into their pillow as they fist their aching cock late into the night, feverish and frantic to cum to the sight of you.

it's not only your innocence that gets them off, but it's the thought of ruining it that drives them to the edge. all of them would repeatedly fantasize about making you just as desperate as they are for you. they want nothing more than for you to look up at them—a betrayed, foggy look in your lust-filled eyes—begging them to take you again because three rounds simply aren’t enough and you're far too addicted to their cocks stretching out your ruined cunt to stop.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble

sirius/james introducing shy!reader to remus. and shes just like quiet and in awe, but remus loves it.

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! remus x shy fem!reader

James is used to your personality after months of being your lecture neighbour, unperturbed by your quiet. "It's going to be fun," he promises, handing you a cold glass of cranberry vodka. "They're nice, okay? I won't let anyone irritate you." 

He's hosting a party and had the generosity to invite you round early. He's easing you in, so to speak. It took him two weeks of steady Hellos for you to work up the courage to say Hi back, another two weeks for small talk, a month before you felt comfortable speaking to him first. If you're that shy, a party is basically torture.

"It's not about irritating me," you say. 

"I know, I'm messing." James lists his head to the left. A second later, there's a knock at the door. "Aha. Wait here, shortcake, there's someone I want you to meet." 

"James," you say after him, wet from your glass leaking down to your sleeve, "what?" 

"I asked him to come early and say hello! He's quiet and handsome and you'll love him, just don't stare at his nose." 

What's wrong with his nose? you think, alarmed. 

James opens the door. Two new voices emerge, one scratchy and a little high, the other smoother. "I need to pee so bad," the scratchy one declares, followed by bounding footsteps up the stairs. 

"You alright?" the smoother asks.

You think there's patting, a hug, "I'm brilliant! You smell really nice, Remus, like a garden." 

"Lovely."

"In a good way! Come and meet my Y/N, you remember I told you about her nice gel pens?" 

James leads the smooth-voiced Remus into the living room. You hurriedly put down your drink and stand, wiping your wet hands in your shirt. You cringe at the darkening fabric but hide your grimace as they stop in front of you. 

"Remus, Y/N. Y/N, Remus," James introduces you both. 

Remus has a scar across his nose that seems cruelly cut. There's another beside it that starts in his upper lip, both of which end in his eyebrow. You know how self-conscious it feels to be looked at, so you manage to smile and offer your hand without too much of it. He's handsome with his scars, a nice nose with a ridge and brown eyes the colour of caramelised sugar.

"Hello," Remus says, shaking your hand. His is big enough to make yours feel small. 

"I invited her early because she's more fun than the rest of our lot," James says, throwing himself down on the sofa and kicking his legs out on the coffee table. 

Remus taps your elbow very gently as if to usher you to sit and sits down beside you, enough space to be casual but too little to stop the rampant nerves that blossom in your stomach. 

Remus asks about your life. What you're studying, where you're from, if James is being nice to you. While James is touchy in the rough older brother way, scrunching your shoulder and shaking you when you're not expecting it. Remus is touchy in a different way, you find, almost as if he doesn't know he's doing it. His shoe bumps your shoe, his hand falls down between his outer thigh and your own, his knuckles touching your jeans very lightly. He spins in his seat to talk to you. 

You don't notice other people arriving, nor the scratchy-voiced friends return. All you can do is look up at Remus with wide eyes. Your nerves meld to something warmer. 

"And what do you do?" you ask him. 

He smiles like you've wandered into a secret. "I'm trying to write a book." 

"He's being a bit much," Sirius says to James, the two now loitering in the doorway with matching beers. You and Remus chatter on, unaware of their running commentary.

"It's a very strong reaction. I knew she'd like him, but I didn't think she'd like him like that." James takes a sip of his drink. Remus asks you a quiet question. You duck your head, playing with your sleeves, and Remus, the bastard, ducks his head to follow your gaze, smiling at you all the while. 

James almost chokes, pointing his bottle toward you both as though Sirius isn't already looking. "He's eating it up. I forgot how flirty he is."

"She'll be nice to him, won't she?" Sirius asks, like it's a done deal. To be fair, Remus seems enthralled with you. 

"Definitely. She's very nice. Oh, look, that's sick, she's gonna pass out." James winces as Remus takes your arm into his hand. 

Remus wouldn't do anything cruel, but James wasn't joking when he told Remus that you were exceedingly, achingly shy. He's about to step in and rescue you, but you turn into Remus' touch and pull your leg up on the sofa to make yourself comfortable. Your voice is animated, if quieter than the average person's.

"Woah," James says, beaming.  

Remus flirts almost as a defence, like he wants to get the rejection over and done with so he can move on. You've yet to reject; you're looking up at him in moderate awe, your lips quirked into an easy smile. 

"Boo!" James calls, flicking his bottle cap at Remus, who brushes it away. "Took me three weeks to get a smile out of her," he mutters. "What a dick." 

sooo sweet

remus is very pretty (and overwhelming) in the morning.

The boys dorm is quiet in a way you’ve rarely seen. Stirring in Remus’ bed, you peer bleary-eyed through the curtains around his bedframe, seeing that the room is empty, the other beds adorned with crumpled-up bedsheets.

Faintly, you remember James mentioning something about an early-morning prank in the Great Hall, and decide to make the most of the solitude, laying back down next to Remus. He’s sleeping heavily, in a way that he only really does around this time of the month, a week and a half after his last transformation and a few days before the early symptoms of the next one start to creep in. 

Taking advantage of his state, you shift, laying your torso over his and tangling your legs together. Propping your chin up on his sternum, your eyeline is full of him. His neck, his face, the sandy hair sticking straight up from his scalp.

Despite having dated for months, you can’t help but get nervous when his introspective gaze is directed at you. For that reason, you often find yourself wishing you had more time to simply stare, before you get far too flustered and have to look away. So, despite wishing he was awake so you could talk, you figure you might as well capitalize on this rare form.

You allow yourself to melt on his torso, pressing your cheek against his sternum as your left hand comes up to rest delicately on his collarbone. Eyes roving over him, you take in the many intricacies of Remus. 

The jagged scars that track from his face down to his chest, the ones you know go all the way down to his heels. The little moon and sun tattoos he’s got on his left shoulder, stick and pokes that Sirius did when they were in first year. Moles and freckles that form constellations, ones that you can see on the insides of your eyelids whenever you get a bit too lovedrunk on him. 

You imagine you look quite lovedrunk right now, eyes dopey with sleepiness and adoration, not daring to look away for even a second. 

Soaking it in, your index finger begins to trace his skin as softly as possible. You follow a scar from his jaw to his clavicle, the raised skin rough against the pad of your finger. It’s a relatively new one. You remember the morning after his transformation, sitting in the Hospital Wing as Madam Pomfrey puttered around his bed, applying tincture after tincture to the angry wound. 

Repressing a shudder at the memory, you move on to a cluster of freckles at the base of his throat. They form a lopsided star, and you smile to yourself as you trace the shape over and over, eyes trained on the small spot of skin.

“...What’re you doing, dove?” You jolt softly at the interruption, looking up sheepishly at Remus’ lidded eyes. His voice is thick with sleepiness, a low rumble in his chest that sends sparks down your spine.

You get momentarily lost in his eyes, pools of amber and oak that seemingly go on forever. Only when he brings a hand up to your hip, squeezing gently, do you answer. 

“Just looking,” His lips quirk up at your words, thumb rubbing up and down your hipbone steadily.

“Looking? At what, me?”

You smile bashfully, your finger never ceasing its movements against his throat.

“Yeah. Just admiring you.”

He puffs some breath out of his nose in amusement, eyes glinting as the sunrise peeks through the windows.

“Yeah?” His eyes dance with mischief as he watches you.

Alright, that’s enough. You’ve endured it as long as you can, the all-too-familiar flush creeping up your neck at his intent gaze. With a groan, you raise your head, shifting your legs so you can begin to roll off of him.

“Hey, where’re you going?” A heavy arm comes up from your hip to wrap around your back, forearm keeping you clasped firmly against his chest. He laughs at your wriggling, his voice low.

“Thought you were admiring me, what happened?”

Realising the futility of your struggle, you give up, burying your face in his chest with a frustrated sound. Your voice comes out muffled, but he hears every word. He doesn’t think he could ever miss a word you say.

“Can’t do it when you’re looking at me.” You cringe at your own voice, the words sounding exceedingly petulant.

“No? That why you were trying to sneak it? Look at me while I’m asleep? Y’little creep.” His voice drips with affection, despite the torment of his words.

Your muffled cry of embarrassment softens him, his free hand coming up to card through the hair at the back of your head.

“Oh, I’m sorry, dovey. Y’know I like it when you look at me. Should I close my eyes for you?” 

You grumble at his words, flicking his side, taking advantage of his dramatic yelp to roll out of his arms.

“You’ve ruined it. No more admiring today.”

His strangled sound of protest follows you all the way out the door.

hi mae! i’ve recently become obsessed with herbal teas and i noticed you have mentioned chamomile and jasmine tea in your fics lol. i am wondering if you would be interested in writing a remus or poly!marauders fic with an american reader who loves herbal teas and they kinda tease her about it (in a loving way of course)? i love your fics and i hope you have a lovely day whenever you read this <3

I love herbal teas! I fully support this obsession honey. Thank you for requesting!

cw: british slander, i love y'all but i'm besmirching your brand <3 (based largely on my own experiences lol, so perhaps not fully accurate)

Remus Lupin x american!reader ♡ 614 words

“This is so disappointing,” you sigh at the sight of Remus’ cabinet. 

“What?” he asks from the couch. 

“You told me you had tea.” 

“I do have tea.” 

“No, you only have this.” You take the box of Yorkshire Tea out of the cabinet, brandishing it where Remus can see. “This shit is nasty. Rubbish, as your folk say.” 

“Oh,” he laughs, “so you sail all the way across the ocean, take our teas with you, denounce our government, and then come back here to criticize, is that it?” 

You look at him darkly. “This is what the Boston tea party was really about. I get it now.” 

Remus beckons you toward the couch. You go, abandoning the boiling kettle since apparently there’s no point in searching the kitchen for anything good to drink. It’s only once you sit down on the couch and he takes your hand into his lap that you realize your mistake. 

Remus has a mollifying effect on you. It’s tragic, really. All it takes is a look, a shift in his tone, a small touch like this, and you’re pliant and boneless for him. 

“What sort of teas do you prefer?” he asks you softly, tracing the lines of your palm.

“I usually keep a variety,” you tell him, matching his tone. “Like cinnamon, or passionflower, or rooibos…have you heard of any of those?” 

Remus smiles, slow and sweet. “I have. Would you like whipped cream and sprinkles on those as well?” 

You laugh, rolling your eyes. You try to take your hand back, but Remus holds fast (you don’t make it hard for him), grinning at you. 

“That is so not fair. Just because y’all like your tea bland—”

“Say that one more time for me? Who all?” 

“—doesn’t mean my tastes are somehow unrefined.” You fix him with a hard stare, though your smile is untamable. “You’re being posh.”

Remus looks amused. “Never been accused of that one before,” he says. 

“Have you ever tried jasmine tea with a little bit of sweet creamer in it?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Remus, you’re really missing out.” 

“Alright.” He stands, taking your hand with him and giving it a tug when you don’t follow. “C’mon, up.” 

“Where are we going?”

“To make you a cuppa.” 

You giggle. “I can’t take you seriously when you call it that.” 

“Once you stop saying dude, we can talk about my diction.” 

“So mean,” you tsk, letting him pull you over in front of the kitchen counter. He pours the hot water from the kettle into a mug, placing a tea bag in it. 

“We’ll get this drinkable for you, love, don’t worry,” Remus murmurs, waiting until the tea is a deep brown before going to the fridge. He pours in heaps of milk and sugar, stirring with a look of mild distaste in his expression. “Alright, try.” 

You take the mug off the counter warily, blowing on it before putting it to your lips. 

You hum, and Remus lifts an eyebrow. 

“It’s…better.” 

“I’ve done my best,” he chuckles, taking it from you. “I’ve thrown all my principles and better sense out the window, and it’s still not up to your standards, hm?” 

“No, it’s not bad.” You steal the mug back, taking another sip and smacking your tongue against the roof of your mouth experimentally. “It’ll do.” 

Remus gives you an indulgent look. “I’m sure we can find you some jasmine tea if that’s what you want,” he offers. 

You shrug. “I was just at the grocery store, and I didn’t see any.” 

He tilts his head skyward, blowing out a long-suffering breath. “I think you mean the grocery, sweetheart.”

WHAT THE MARAUDERS DO TO HELP YOU WHILE YOU'RE ON YOUR PERIOD

REMUS

Our precious and dear Remus does everything possible for you to feel better during your period. He brings you any kind of food or drink you're craving and gives you massages.

But most importantly, he reads to you. He's really sweet and understands that you don't feel exactly well.

HE IS BOYFRIEND AND HUSBAND MATERIAL <3

SIRIUS

Sirius isn't used to muggle objects yet, but this time he knows he has to make an effort so he can cheer you up.

While you're sitting in bed, he grabs a vinyl record of one of your favourite bands and places the needle on the edge as the song starts playing.

The two of you start singing along to the tune and Sirius starts tickling you.

JAMES

James isn't sure at first what to do. You keep complaining that your tummy hurts. That's when a brilliant idea pops into his head. CUDDLING.

He hops into the bed, next to you. James moves closer to you, holds your waist and lovingly stares into your eyes. He puts his palm on your cheek and passionately kisses you.

PETER

Peter, just like James, doesn't really know what to do at the beginning, but then he comes up with something. The answer to every problem, is choclate.

So that's what he does. He runs to Honeydukes and buys you chocolate and all kinds of sweets he think will cheer you up.

When he comes back and you see all the candy he's brought, you kiss him on the cheek and thank him. You end up sharing the sweets with Peter :)

Thank you for reading <33

requests are available

MASTERLIST

This one is so cute😍😍🥺🥺

"(Not) dancing in the moonlight" - teacher!Remus Lupin x teacher!reader

A/N: I was in a desperate need for something soft and winterish so uhhh here have this! <3 Headcanons? Memes? Let’s talk! My asks are here.

Warnings: setting of NYE, post-full moon Remus (minor descriptions of physical and mental discomfort), wit/sarcasm, smoking cigarettes, use of mobility aid, minor description of fireworks (hurt/comfort + fluff - mostly major fluff)

Summary: Professor Remus Lupin and his partner spend a soft NYE evening within the walls of Hogwarts. Turns out being on a teacher night duty isn’t so bad when you’re your pupils’ favourite.

Word count: 1.2K+

If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

masterlist

my AO3 archive is here

"On my heart, where you're resting your head.

And you just look so beautiful.

It's like you were an angel.

Can I stop the flow of time?

Can I swim in your divine?

'Cause I don't think I'd ever leave this place."

“You’ve got options,” you said, holding up two tea bags for him to see. “Which will it be, darling?”

Remus was sitting on the leather sofa of Gryffindor’s common room with his legs propped up on a wooden coffee table.

Unfortunately, Remus ended up being assigned for a New Year’s Eve teacher duty for Gryffindor. At first, you’d been quite disappointed by the fact that you and Remus couldn’t attend New Year’s Eve ball organized in your beloved restaurant in Hogsmeade. It was your annual tradition to go there ever since you were teenagers. The tradition started after Lily and James had found the restaurant – it wasn’t very popular amongst Hogwarts students since it’s on the fancier side. But after going there once you all made a promise to save some money throughout the year so that all of you could go there at least once a year for the New Year’s Eve party. Lily particularly loved the place for the delicious food. She hadn’t been able to stop raving about it for at least a couple of days back at school.  After their passing it felt mandatory for you and Moony to keep the tradition alive.

Even if it wasn’t for the teacher duty your plans would have changed anyway – full moon had fallen right after Christmas leaving Remus drained both physically and mentally. So, the change of plans kind of worked out for the better in a way. The idea of loud crowds and dancing was obviously out of the question. As much as you wanted to enjoy an evening out, you were glad to be with him in a way that didn’t push him beyond what he could handle.

Remus squinted across the room, clearly trying to see what you were holding up, but then he gave up with a small sigh. Leaning forward, he reached for his cane and slowly made his way towards you. The soft taps of the cane against the wooden floor were the only sound besides the crackle of the fireplace.

When he reached you, he stood for a moment, his head tilting as he scanned the options you held in your hands.

“Hmm,” he muttered, his lips quirking into a faint smile as he reached out. He plucked one of the tea bags from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours with a warmth that gave you butterflies.

“I’ll take this one.” He watched you as you carefully poured water into your mugs. You turned over your shoulder to shoo him away and make him settle on the sofa comfortably, careful not to spill the boiling hot water over yourself.

Just as you were about to hand him his mug, the portrait hole creaked open. The cold outer air mixed in with the warm, pine-scented air within the common room.

You turned your head, half-expecting it to be the Fat Lady herself popping in to complain about something. Instead, three familiar figures shuffled in, trying - and failing to move quietly.

Ron tripped, stumbling over the hem of his own robe.

“Shhh!” Hermione hissed, quickly grabbing his arm to steady him.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Ron whispered back, louder than necessary.

She sent him a deathly glare in response.

Harry, stuck in the middle, shot both of them an irritated look before glancing towards the sofa. His blue eyes widened when he spotted you and Remus, clearly realizing they weren’t as sneaky as they thought.

“Weee- we. Umm we-- weren’t expecting anyone to be up.” he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

Remus raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Clearly…There’s nothing more subtle than tripping over your own feet, whisper-shouting, and holding the portrait hole open like you’re inviting Filch in for tea.”

You tried really hard not to laugh at your husband's remark. His quick wit was one of the main reasons why you fell for him in the first place.

Ron turned bright red.

“We weren’t doing anything! Just, uh, checking to see if—”

“You’re sneaking out." you interrupted, crossing your arms completely unable to hide the grin spreading across your face. Their shenanigans reminded you so much of yourself and the rest of marauders back in the day.

“No, we’re not!” Ron protested, which would’ve been more convincing if Hermione didn’t shoot him a sharp don’t-lie-to-a-teacher look.

“Alright, fine. WE ARE sneaking out…” Harry said. Honesty was the best approach in this situation.

“We just wanted to watch the fireworks over the lake. We’ll come right back, I promise.”

You exchanged a glance with Remus, who took a slow sip of his tea, clearly dragging out the suspense just to mess with them. You poked his side noticing Hermione’s pale face.

“Well,” he finally said, setting the mug down, “Fireworks over the lake, huh? Sounds nice."

“But let me guess — you haven’t thought this plan all the way through, have you?” Remus continued.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked defensively.

“We have!” Hermione said quickly, holding up a piece of fabric.

“We’ve got the invisibility cloak.”

Remus tilted his head, looking at the cloak with mock seriousness.

“And how, exactly, are you planning to fit all three of you under it?”

Ron looked down at his feet.

“It might be a liiiittle bit snug.” You shook your head.

“Remus, just let them go. If they get caught, they will have something funny to talk about.”

Remus sighed dramatically, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“Fine. But,” he said, pointing a finger at them, “if you get caught, don’t come crying to me and professor Y/N.”

“Deal!” Harry said quickly, nudging Ron and Hermione back toward the portrait hole.

“Happy New Year!” Ron called over his shoulder.

“Don’t stay up too late professor Lupin — you’re looking a bit peaky! Good night professor Lupin II! Love you both!”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head.

The portrait closed, and you tucked yourself into his side.

“I swear to merlin that boy has absolutely no sense of self-preservation.”

He looked down to search through his pocket to grab his cigarette box and a lighter.

“We’re such pushovers for them.” You said laughing.

“Maybe so,” he admitted with a sincere smile.

He held out his cigarette box motioning to the balcony.

“Fancy a smoke ma’am?”

“Baaad, bad influence Lupin.“

He smirked, lighting his cigarette as he held the balcony door open for you.

“I’ve been called worse.”

You stepped out into the crisp night air, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“But ‘bad influence’ suits you tonight.” He lit your cigarette.

“Only on special occasions.” he said with a grin, blowing a stream of smoke.

“I can’t believe Ron called me ‘Professor Lupin II’.”

“See? You’re the second Lupin on the list. Maybe being soft isn’t so bad hun.“

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. He wrapped his arm around your waist and huffed with laughter into your hair.

In the distance, you could see the first flash of fireworks lighting up the sky over the lake, shimmering almost like falling stars, leaving a trail of glowing sparks that slowly disappeared into the night.

“Happy new year love.”

Thank you for reading! stay whelmed xx