#priest!remus

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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. 

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Read more Marauders Fiction

[propertyofrjl]

Can't stop thinking about Priest!Remus, but make it Sub!Priest!Remus.

Cause don’t get me wrong I love the innocent!reader with priest!remus, who loves corrupting us.

But what about temptress!reader/demon!reader. Who’s ready to corrupt him and show him how good it feels to kneel at the altar of lust.

Listening to him mutter and pathetically whine out prayers he hopes will save him from damnation as you ride his pretty cock.

And he just can’t function, his brain numb, cause he’s never felt so good in his life, and that look in your eye tells him he’s doing something right, and the way your fluttering around his cock and the pretty noises your making, he knows he’ll go to hell, but maybe you’re worth it

Anyway that’s where my brain was today, what about you?

————

Also guys remember to leave requests for Remus xx

[prettybabybaby]

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

¡ marauders masterlist !

priest!remus’ hand is wound up in your hair, guiding your head up and down his leaking cock. “do you always have such filthy thoughts?”

your wet eyes flick upwards, mouth wrapped prettily around him as he uses you. “mhm,” you hum around him.

“about me, yeah?” he groans, feeling his thighs tense. he pushes your head down to his base, feeling your fluttering lashes rake through his pubic hair. “you fantasize about me fucking your mouth just like this, don’t you?” he catches the way you shiver and your throat tightens even further.

remus lets you come up for air only momentarily before he’s forcing you up and down brutally, driven by the crude sounds that fill the room, “probably right in this chair, too. hidden away from all of God’s loyal followers to be a lustful and greedy little girl taking all of the Father’s attention with your slutty throat.”

[ellecdc]

i have seen two different priest!Remus fics recently and i didn't think i'd understand the appeal but HOLY well it's very not holy but HOLY

🧎

Is it good?? It seems popular but I’ve never dabbled in it tbh. I always worry because it feels like the outcomes are always either Remus being a creepy gross perv or not being able to get what you want (Remus)

[evyltalks]

Commission of Remus and Sirius from Dear Your Holiness by MollyMaryMarie for @/midnighttomoscow 🤍 (two versions of each character Remus with or without grey hair and Sirius with or without facial hair)

[vellichorbindery]

My contribution to the #cruelmarauderssummer exchange @inkstainedforever and I hosted over on insta 🙈

This is my 8th or 9th time binding Dear Your Holiness and this time I got to partner with the incredible @industrations to create this book.

Indi drew the STUNNING front and back cover as well as the moth and the vines/moth border and Remus’ hand with the Eucharist for the cover. I can’t get over the colors and the two scenes Indi drew 🫠😩🥹😭 Thank you thank you THANK YOU for being the sweetest human and so patient with me as I changed my mind and took my sweet time finishing these.

@mollymarymarie thought you might want to see this version 😘

[orbch]

the glasses gays and those obnoxious twins

[silveryones]

come just a little bit closer

[thebestofoneshots]

No Sweeter Innocence than Our Gentle Sin Pt.1 | Remus Lupin x Reader

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader

Word Count: 8.6 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. 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

Part 2 is out now!

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

ACT I: Remember to keep holy the LORD’s Day

You really didn’t want to go to church. You had one hell of a week and you were incredibly tired so when you got the phone call with your grandma inviting you to go, you were about ready to say no. 

But your grandma has always been extremely catholic, and while you weren’t anymore, you hadn’t seen her in a while, and you missed her. Her being in town for your short vacation was a good enough reason to visit her more often (she was staying with your parents) and if you’d have to live through a whole hour of some boring priest talking about all the things that are wrong with society nowadays, then you would. Even if you didn’t want to. 

That didn’t stop you from being cranky over the fact that you’d have to wake up extra early to take the 40-minute ride to the church she claimed “was the best one in the city,” according to her priest back at home (of course she couldn’t just ask you to the nearest fucking church). 

Breathe, you told yourself. This is for your grandma, you repeated as you sat on the narrow seat of public transport, next to the gym bro that smelled like he could use a shower and whose massive arms would bump into you whenever the bus went through a pothole. 

When you finally reached your spot, you had to wake him up so he would move his massive legs to the side and you could fucking pass through, walking down the bus in the sea of people that for some reason had taken the same one. Once outside you took a deep breath and tried to relax again. You didn’t want to look as pissed as you felt when you finally saw your grandma. At least it was a fucking cloudy day and you wouldn’t have to deal with the sun as you walked the 4 blocks left you had until you arrived at the church. 

Who the fuck would invent a church so goddamn far from everything important? You wondered as you approached. 

Oh, you thought once you saw it. Someone who wanted a lot of space then. 

The church was massive. And while you might have been prone to exaggerate when you were pissed, you were far from exaggerating now. It was almost a small castle, maybe the largest church in the city, certainly the largest one you had seen in your life (not that you had seen a great many but certainly a few). 

On the outside, there were very many intricate details carved, a few gargoyles at the top in a very Notre Dame-esque sort of way. Except while Notre Dame ended in a very square and neat way, the towers of this one extended far above the roof and ended in a pointy, almost menacing sort of way. You had been so absorbed by the intricate details of the tower, that you didn’t realise you were walking straight into someone. 

“Uhh sorry,” you said as you stumbled back, pulling your gaze from the structure and towards the person right in front of you. You were absorbed by him the second your eyes met his: golden brown, almost shining with the way the sun was hitting them. You weren’t sure you had ever seen a more perfect person in your life, they were exactly your–

“I see you’ve met Father Remus!” Your grandma said as she grabbed onto your arm and pulled you back from him a couple more steps. 

Father? He’s married? You wondered until you noticed his clothes, all-black suit, white necktie, she meant Father as in Priest?!?

The man –Remus– smiled, gentle, sweet and caring. “Nice to meet you…” there was silence. It took you a second to realise the man was expecting your name, and you gave it to him, fast and still slightly disoriented. 

“Come on, angel,” your nan said as she pulled you towards the entrance. “We can talk after the mass.” 

“Nice to meet you, Remus,” you said, turning up your most charming smile as you waved goodbye to the man. His eyes seemed to trail on your hand, but your grandma pulled you again, and you were forced to turn around. 

“It’s Father Remus,” your grandma corrected. 

“Right, sorry,” you said, almost carelessly, not carelessly enough for her to notice, though. 

“I’m glad you came, I don’t think any of your cousins made it.”

“Oh, it was nothing, Nan,” you said as you turned around to see if Remus was still around. He was not anymore, you turned back to her. “It’s lovely to be here with you.” 

That wasn’t entirely a lie, you liked spending time with her, she was lovely. But you did not like going to the church, you had long parted with the catholic ideals and you weren’t interested in most of the archaic teachings of the church. Especially the homophobic ones, you thought the closed-mindedness of the church was a terrible thing, and that it stopped many people from being who they truly were, not to mention how it affected a lot of people you knew. It was because of that close-mindedness that some of your friends had to hide themselves from their parents. Because god forbid their children were gay.

Now, not everything about the church was bad, some values were good and important, but at this point in the progressive world, perhaps the bad outweighed the good. And in the end, religions were just a way of controlling the masses, no surprise the church service was called “mass”. 

You could have made a list of everything that was wrong, in a very Lutheran manner, sent it to your grandma and never attended again, but she was old and you knew there was no way she’d understand, especially when she’d been conditioned to think a certain way for far more years than you’d been alive. So instead, you decided to sit through the service with her, and make her happy, rather than be the rebel you sometimes wanted to be.

Ah the service, it was boring until Remus came out. If you thought he’d look handsome in the cassock, you could have been awestruck when you saw him wearing that white alb. Yes, those Sunday school days had taught you enough. He wore a cincture around the waist that matched the alb, and you’d swear you deserve hell when you pictured yourself pulling the entire thing off him in a secret corner of the massive church. In the middle of mass, while the head priest kept talking about things related to Jesus and how he saved someone or whatever, you were thinking of calm and collected Father Remus, losing control and giving in to the lust of the flesh, and all of it for you. 

A small smirk played on your face as you thought of all the things you’d like to do to Remus, of all the sounds you’d have him make. Was it sinful? Perhaps. Did it warrant hell? Most likely. Luckily, you didn’t believe in hell any more than you believed in heaven.

And then it came to you. The idea that would certainly warrant a hell of a lot more than your lewd imaginings. If stealing was a sin, then how sinful would it be to steal something from god? To pilfer one of his men for yourself?

What an ungodly thing to do, so devilish that perhaps you wouldn’t be in hell to be punished but rather to punish. Was it perhaps a revenge for being forced into church for so many years, for having to sit through hours of Sunday School and the indoctrination you had to put up with but somehow managed to see past? Yeah. But at this point, you weren’t sure you cared. Something about Remus had sucked you in like a moth to a flame and you wanted to cling to whatever that was. Otherwise, you might have not be able to go through with your plan. 

It wouldn’t happen all in one day, it couldn’t happen all in one day. It had to be slow, steady, and repetitive, like the snake tempting Eve, like Eve tempting Adam. You hadn’t seen yourself as a sexy woman throughout your life, at least not the kind of Sexy Femme Fatale that men seemed to live and diе for in movies. No, you had never been like that, and you wouldn’t start today. But you would perform the most outrageous and strong act of seduction you had ever thought of and it had to be done perfectly, or you wouldn’t get what you wanted.

What was it that you wanted again? Right, you wanted Remus Lupin.

ACT II: Thou shall not steal 

“When was the last time you confessed?” Your Nan whispered as she leaned onto you, people were already standing for communion. 

You hesitated. “I’m not sure, Nan.” 

She hummed in return, clearly disapproving of your distancing from the church. You were sure she would have called you heathen if you said the truth, it had been years. 

“I could go up and confess now,” you said as you looked at the confessionary in the back, you had seen Remus enter it, but you suspected it was too soon to start with the plan. 

“No darling, repent for your sins and you can confess later. Perhaps after mass.” 

“Or during the week,” you said with a knowing smile. 

“Isn’t it a long way from your apartment?” 

“I’m sure it’ll be worth it anyway.” 

She stood up and took the communion, leaving you sitting on the chair and looking at the way people would walk toward the altar. Judging them, if that made sense. There was a woman who accommodated her breasts back in her seat before standing up, she threw a look at one of the other priests as she took the host. You gave her an approving sort of glance before you turned to someone else. Now you didn’t exactly consider her way of seducing appealing, but then again, yours wouldn’t be much better either. So to each their own. The man behind her had been touching himself in the very back of the church and had stared at her ass throughout the entire line, probably for more material. 

Sinners, the church claiming to be so saint, and it was full of them. 

You weren’t much better than them either, the difference is that you didn’t harbour the same hate towards yourself for it. No, you knew what nature was and you knew that despite how much we humans pretended to be better, we still were all animals. And there are a few things that animals want and need. Love, or the act of love, was one of them. That’s what you’d be using to your favour. 

When your Nan came back, you helped her kneel and do her praying; all the while you attentively looked around. Remus had left the concessionary already and he was at the front with the rest of the priests. He spotted you looking at him and you smiled kindly, innocently at him. The kind of smile someone with the thoughts surging in your head wouldn’t be able to give, and yet, you accomplished it seamlessly.

He gave you a courteous nod and you reciprocated it. The rest of the mass was as boring as you’d expect it to be; except for the fact that Remus was looking at you rather often, either he was curious about their new parishioner, or he was interested. Either way, you were sure you’d be able to use that in your favour. 

When the mass was over, you had to wait for all of them to exit the church first and then you helped your Nan stand and walked with her towards the entrance. Remus was there, giving short blessings and handing out some pamphlets about donations and other similar stuff. Your grandma was the one to pull you towards him. “What a wonderful mass,” she said. “Father Ernest was onto something when he told me to come here while I was in the city.” 

“Thank you,” Remus said bashfully, you could almost see him blush at the praise. What would a real blush look on him? You were dying to know. 

“Wonderful indeed, although I would have liked to hear your interpretation of the verses, Remus,” You said. 

“Father Remus,” your grandma corrected. 

“Oh, it’s fine. If it feels more personal you may call me just Remus, dear one.” 

You tried to hold back the snide smile you would have thrown your Nan had it been any other woman. You could call him Remus. You were a dear one. 

“Right, perhaps another day,” you added with a smile and pulled your grandma to the side so the next person could take the blessing. 

“I preach on Wednesdays,” Remus said, tone borderline desperate, as he raised his head over the people and women piling around him. Clearly, you weren’t the only one to harbour a little crush on Father Remus. It didn’t matter though, because you’d be the one to have him. 

Next Wednesday you didn’t make any plans, and you put on something simple but elegant. A squared-neck shirt and a pair of jeans. When you arrived at the church, you didn’t waste as much time admiring it, instead, you decided to walk straight inside. His mass had started already, and you sneaked in through the side until you reached the third row of seats. There weren’t as many people as you’d expect on a Wednesday, but Remus was preaching like there were hundreds. He was wonderful.

He had a way with words that made you want to listen, perhaps if you weren’t so cynical, it would even convert you. But rather than thinking of his prayer, you were thinking of how incredible he would be as a teacher, you imagined the students, squirming for him and his words in their seats. You imagined the older, more daring girls going after him. You were lucky that wasn’t the situation, the kind of woman that could seduce any man had the benefit of practice that you didn’t. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against them. 

But the kind of woman that went to the church, the kind that flocked to him at the end of mass, they weren’t a threat. They were too pious to try anything even remotely similar to what you had in mind. In fact, you even dared to think you were lucky that he had been a priest and not a teacher because then he would have perhaps been married, and while you were willing to take a man from god, you would never take one from another woman. You had limits. 

After the mass was over, you waited a few minutes before leaving the church “accidentally” bumping into him again. “Remus,” you said with a smile. “We seem to continue bumping into each other,” you added as you leaned closer to him and pressed your cheek to his, making a low smacking sound, and then repeating on the other side. He looked bewildered at the contact. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I make you uncomfortable? I got this habit while I was in France and I still haven’t shaken it off completely.” 

“Oh… No, no,” hesitant, bashful, you loved every bit of it. “Not at all, it’s fine. You can greet me however you like.” 

“Is that privilege reserved to me, or does every other parishioner have it?” He seemed taken aback by your words. “I’m joking, Remus,” you added and placed your hand on his arm, before pulling it back tentatively. “Your mass was wonderful.” 

“Thank you, I’m lucky to work at Saint Gryffin.” 

“The way I see it, Saint Gryffin is lucky to have you. I mean lots of women come here to see the beautiful priest Remus.” 

“You think?” he asked. Remus didn’t exactly consider himself handsome, he thought his scars would scare people away rather than attract them. But he sometimes failed to see past them and didn’t pay attention to his beautiful eyes, to his charming smile, to his long lashes, or to his well-toned frame. It was as if he had been carved by Michael Angelo himself, from your perspective.

“For sure,” you replied. “Take a closer look at the way they look at you on Sunday and you’ll see.” He blushed, a deeper shade of red than your Nan had pulled out of him, you resisted the urge to bite your lip and smiled instead. “Today was lovely, I’ll see you around,” you said before waving goodbye and exiting the church. 

You went again a week later, Remus would sometimes lose his focus on the bible and look at you instead. That day you had chosen a skirt. Nothing too short or indecent, but certainly short enough to allow your legs to be seen and admired. An older man hadn’t stopped staring at you throughout the mass, and you would have perhaps told him off if it hadn’t been for the fact that Remus had been in a similar position.

Remus’ distraction, his hesitance and his constant turning to you were enough to drive your attention away from the man and onto him. You would smile, and you would nod, and you would pretend to be a supportive little lamb. Innocent, and meek and kind. Just what he expected from you. And it was that Wednesday, the third time that you’d met him, that you realised you had him right where you wanted him to be. 

He for sure had a thing for you, be it curiosity, admiration, or a small crush. You had gotten his attention, and you had gotten into his mind. Now all you needed was to have him. 

ACT III: Thou shall not Covet someone else’s property 

The next Wednesday you had been late, you had allowed your hair to be slightly dishevelled and your cheeks were warm, despite the autumn getting colder. You had bitten your lips and you looked like you had just gotten away from a dire situation. You’d done it on purpose. When his gaze fell on you he almost stopped talking completely. He staggered to complete his words and you nodded for him to go on. When he was done, he rushed out, and you stayed in your seat. Eyes closed and hands clasping each other, pretending to pray. 

That’s when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, he whispered your name. “Are you okay, Little Lamb?” 

It took a real effort not to laugh at his nickname. Not because you thought it was stupid, but because you were so far from a lamb that you might as well have been the wolf that ate it. You turned to him, fake distress clouding your features, “I’ve done something terrible, Remus.” 

He was kind, almost impossibly so, it almost made you want to stop your plan and leave him the pure man he was. 

Almost.

“I’m sure there’s nothing you could do, that was as bad as you’ve described.” 

“I’d like to confess,” you said. “Would you take my confession?” 

Remus seemed hesitant, biting his lip. He knew he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t hear your confession, not when he wanted to maintain a personal relationship with you, not when he’d develop a crush. But it was in your preoccupied gaze, in the small frown that etched your features, in the way your lips curved down and in the bobbing of your throat as you swallowed. How ever could he deny you? 

Oh, those thoughts would be the ones that would drag him into sin, nay, not drag, but rather, waft him into it. If Remus hadn’t been so enamoured by you, perhaps corrupting him would have proved a harder task to accomplish for you. 

“Okay,” he said simply. And helped you stand. Guiding you towards the empty confessionary and sitting in his spot as you opened the door to the other one. It was a narrow place, enough for you to sit. There was a screen dividing the two of you, you couldn’t see him, but you suspected he could see you. And there was a small, square hole in between, enough to fit perhaps a hand. You assumed it was there in case you’d like to give something to the priest, as a thank you. 

Remus cleared his throat, and in the most professional way he could muster he said, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. My child, what brings you to the sacrament of confession today?”

His voice had been different, stronger as if he was trying not to be himself. You loved it. “Father, I come seeking forgiveness for my sins. I have strayed from the path of righteousness and I seek reconciliation,” you let your voice bend and crack near the end. 

 “I am here to listen, my child. Let us begin with a moment of reflection. Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess.” 

You held back the smirk that threatened to appear when he said that, just in case he was actually able to see you. “I have fallen in love with a man I cannot have.” 

“Oh, darling,” he said, that was Remus, not Father Remus. You had cracked through his façade and you hadn’t even started. “That is not a sin. It’s happened to the best of us.” 

“But it is a sin the way I think of him, Father,” you responded. You heard a sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t speak further. “I have dreamt of him, of his lips, of his eyes with long lashes, the way his hair frames his face, of his beautiful and strong hands–” Remus tried not to be jealous of the man you described, but everything about him seemed perfect, and unlike himself, he probably could have you. Your beautiful lips, and eyes, focused solely on him. He hated the guy already. “–sliding between my legs, and touching me.” 

“Do not speak further,” there was an edge of alarm in his voice. A bit of a broken end to it. 

“Oh but Father I must,” you said. “If I don’t I’m afraid I’ll act upon my feelings in the same way I did today while thinking of him.” 

“You…” he hesitated. “You touched yourself… Is that why you’re here?” 

“Yes,” you replied with a frown, almost a wince, all of it an act, of course. 

“Pray Our Father 10 times and–” 

“No! Allow me to relate my story, Father,” he tried to stop you. “I must, I must, or then I might go to him and offer myself in a terrible, ungodly manner and then I won’t ever be deserving of the church ever again.”

Frankly, you didn’t even know how you’d gotten so inspired, but Remus relented, nodding and when he realised you hadn’t heard, he bit his cheek and said. “Go on then.” 

You sighed, that was a real sigh, you weren’t sure you’d get this far. “I had a dream of him, Father. He was handsome as ever, and he looked at me, with such kind eyes, with such loving eyes, that when he leaned in to kiss me, I didn’t stop him.” 

Remus was already praying for himself. He did not want to imagine you in your bed, your hair sprawled over the pillow and your mind away in a dream, kissing another man. 

“I didn’t stop him when he pinned me against the wall, and I didn’t stop him when his hand dug under my shirt. I said nothing when it travelled to my breast, and I all but moaned when he pinched my nipple.” 

“That is enough, I get the idea.” 

“But that’s not the whole dream,” you protested, you sounded mortified. How could he stop your repentance for his own misguided thoughts? A man of God wasn’t supposed to harbour this kind of feelings for a fellow human, he was not meant to like you so much, and his pants were not meant to be as uncomfortable. 

“You don’t have to go onto the details–” 

“But Father, I must repent for all of my sins.” 

Remus sighed, “Go on then.” 

“And then when he reached down, oh Remus, I spread my legs for him rather than shut them close…” you didn’t say a thing. You could hear his breathing had gotten a lot more ragged. “He slid this hand through my knickers and touched me, that place that should only be touched by your husband. And… it felt good. I moaned his name until my voice went hoarse in the dream. I saw him pump himself and woke up as he rubbed his cock onto my folds.” 

There was a sigh of relief when he thought the story was over. “It is good that you repent–” 

“The worst part is yet to come.” You said, and you breathed. “When I awoke, I felt a wetness between my legs. My underwear was moist and the stickiness had rubbed onto my legs. I know I shouldn’t have done it, Remus, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. I wanted to know if it would feel as good as in the dream.” 

“Child.” 

“I reached down and repeated the actions the man had done to me. My fingers weren’t as strong or secure, but I found a spot that felt incredible, and I kept touching it, rubbing it, circling around it.” 

Remus’ boner was straining against his pants in an almost painful way. He wanted to let go, he wanted to set him free and chase his own pleasure at your words. At how he pictured you in your bed, sweaty and sighing as you touched yourself. You were so beautiful, he found innocence even in the way you sinned. 

“And then there was bliss, I thought I was dеad and had gone to heaven, but I came back, vision cloudy and disoriented. My bedsheets were sticky with my juices and I had to change them. I’ve been in a permanent state of shame ever since then.” 

“Let us pray for your forgiveness,” Remus said. And my own, he thought. Now not only your sheets had been stained, but so had his pants, just from hearing you. You would have relished on the knowledge if you’d had it. 

“Thank you, Father,” you said as you stood. 

“Pray tell me child, whoever is this man that has you in such an altered state of mind?” 

Got him! you thought as you turned your gaze to the confessionary. And almost in a whisper, you murmured. “Well, it’s you, Remus.” 

ACT IV:  Thou shall not commit adultery

Remus couldn’t stop thinking of you since that day. He’d get boners with the mere thought of you, with the idea of you going back to his confessionary and telling him all the lewd things you had done while thinking of him again.

He thought of you in the shower, and he thought of you in bed, and he thought of you while praying to try and take his mind away from you as well. He knew he was in deep trouble and he had no one he could talk to about his problem. 

He had avoided touching himself, but it was hard and it was painful to ignore the throbbing sometimes, and he had to give in. Gently brushing his hand on top of his trousers until either it subdued or he came, completely forgetting who he was and thinking only of your hot lips in his and your legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed you in the exact same way he’d had you in your dream. A dream that had now become as much his as it had been yours. 

The next Wednesday he was nervous. Bouncing his leg while he had breakfast and playing with his nails while he read the verse he’d have to give that day. His breath was stuck in his throat as he started to preach and he waited. And waited as he spoke and looked at the door and then back at the bible held between his hands and then back at the door. 

You didn’t go to church that day. 

Naturally, he was mortified. Thinking he had done something wrong, thinking he had scared you and thinking he’d pushed you away somehow. Thinking you were too scared to see him again after those lewd dreams, thinking –God forbid- you had chosen a different church to attend. 

So when the next Wednesday you showed up with a small skirt (the smallest you had ever gone to church with) and a simple preppy-looking sweater he couldn’t help but be both relieved and terrified, all at the same time. You had tinted your lips red, not enough for it to be lipstick, but enough for them to look raw and bitten, and while your hair was perfectly put together, and your makeup right in place, there was something about you that screamed danger. 

You sat right in the very first row. There were like 5 other people in the massive church that day. Someone sitting in the middle. A couple of old people in the back and a few others scattered around. No one young, and no one near the front either. 

Oh, what a terrible thing it was that you were about to do. 

Remus was quick to dismiss his deacons, asking them to go fetch something while he preached mass and they gave him a courteous nod while he started talking. As per usual, you listened attentively, paying close attention to the things he said, and despite yourself, often finding the things that you disagreed with. You realized he could barely take his eyes off you, and you slowly, spread your legs. Only a little, only enough to get his attention. You saw the way he licked his lips, and went back to talking. And you smiled. You pulled your ass back and opened yourself a little wider before crossing one leg over the other. You accommodated your skirt with your hand, slow and steady. Pulling your skirt up to show more skin before pulling it down and settling it in place, but only after he’d noticed, and seen as much of skin as possible, all the while, pretending to be doing it all innocently. Like you hadn’t worn that small skirt on purpose and like you hadn’t taken off your knickers and placed them in your bag in that public loo before walking inside the church. 

When the mass ended, you saw Remus disappear into the confessionary. Onto the confession side. You saw him look around and then get inside, nervous as if scared to be seen. Probably trying to run away from you. When you made sure that there was no one left, you walked inside the other side. He was hunched, elbows leaning on his knees and head hidden between his hands. You thought you had gone too far since he looked like he had been crying, but you quickly realised he had been praying instead. 

Sure, he’d have complicated thoughts, but your plan was meant to be fun for the two of you, and you wanted him to enjoy being corrupted as much as you enjoyed corrupting him. 

“Remus,” you said tentatively. “Are you okay?” 

He gasped and turned to the small division, he couldn’t see you, but you could see him perfectly. “It’s you.” 

Rather than replying you cocked your head to the side. “Take a moment to examine your conscience and bring to mind the sins you wish to confess,” you joked. He gave you a stern look from the other side, a reproaching sort of look as if he wanted to tell you how terrible it was for you to impersonate a Priest, but he didn’t speak. “Or should I speak of mine first?”

“Please don’t.”

“Then sing, little bird.” 

Remus huffed. “I’ve been thinking about a woman, non-stop.” 

“A church woman?” 

“I’m not sure if she really is a church woman anymore.” 

“A devil?” 

“No.” 

You smiled, “Then, what’s so wrong about thinking of her?” 

“I’m no ordinary man. It’s against my beliefs.” 

“To think of a woman is against your beliefs?” 

“To think of her in the way I’ve been thinking of her.” 

“Which is?” 

“As terrible as your dream, my darling.” 

You smirked at that, biting your lip so hard you might have drawn bIood if you hadn’t stopped to say something else. “So you’ve been thinking of kissing me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Of touching me?” 

“Yes,” he said, strained. 

“Of fucking me?” 

Silence.

“Have you thought of the sounds I would make, of the sighs and moans and groans?” 

He closed his eyes, a deep frown etched on his features. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I used your confession to fuel my imaginations, to satisfy my carnal desires to–” 

“That’s okay.” 

“It is not!” he responded, distressed. 

“Remus,” you said simply. “I wanted you to think of me,” you admitted. “I wanted you to think of me while you touched yourself the same way I thought of you while I did it. The same way I’ve been thinking of you while doing it, in fact.” 

His head snapped your way, he seemed mortified, but you could also see one of his hands being brought down, adjusting his pants. 

“Do you want me to tell you how I do it?” 

“No,” he lied. 

“Are you sure? I won’t ask again.” 

He looked to the side, red from shame. He bit his lip. “Tell me.” 

You smiled, “I lay in bed, and then these images come to my mind, I think of you, of your hands. They’re touching me, they’re everywhere. I don’t know where you ended and I start and I love every bit of it. It’s my hands that travel down my thighs but I think of them as yours. It is my fingers that slide in between my folds but I believe they’re yours.” 

“Fucking hell,” he said, his grip on the wooden latch, grip tightening until his knuckles turned white. You peered through the blinds and realised the tent in his pants. 

“Remus,” you said quietly. He turned to the wooden division, gaze strained, eyes filled with guilt, he was looking for you, but he couldn’t see past the squares and the small, shadow of you that got through.  “Touch yourself.” 

It was soft, the way you said it. Soft like a suggestion more than a command, but neither of you doubted it was the latter. And as if it had been a command from God himself, he listened and did what told. He patted himself over his black pants and hissed at the strain he’d been on. It was almost painful, how constricted and trapped his cock had been. 

“Soft,” you said then, watching, resisting your own temptation to dig your hand under your skirt. “Be kind to yourself, Remus, you deserve it.” 

He listened, and continued to rub himself, passing his hand back and forth and allowing it to help with the strain. “Te” –he stuttered– “tell me how you feel.” 

“The inner side of my legs is soft, incredibly so,” you said. “I get chills when I run my hands close to my core.”

 “It’s wet,” you said then. You had dug your hand under your skirt now. “Really wet.” 

He could hear your breaths getting sharper, he assumed you were also touching yourself on the other side and he could barely think properly, barely command his hand to do what it needed to do to help himself. 

“That looks painful,” you said as you saw him continue to rub himself over his trousers. “Take yourself out.” 

“What?” he asked, confused. 

“Touch yourself with your bare hand, Remus.” 

He seemed like he would protest, so you decided to give him some encouragement. You placed your finger between your folds and brushed over your clit, emitting a soft moan, “Please.” 

Just like before, Remus followed your command, unbuttoning his pants and pulling his boxers down enough so he could pull himself out. You smiled. “So beautiful, aren’t you?” you praised from the other side. He was long, thick and standing proud. He was hesitant at first, but he eventually placed his hand around himself. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I’d forgotten how good it feels.” 

Of course, he had been a teenager once, of course, he had touched himself while feeling terrible for doing so and having grown up in a Christian household. 

“Remus?” 

“Yeah?” he asked, as he pumped. Slow and steady, as if he didn’t want to go too fast and show you how easy it was for him to cum at the thought of you. 

“You’re making me insanely wet, I might have ruined your comfy little chair here.” 

“Are you teasing me?” 

“No, I’m being a good little lamb that tells no lies,” you said in response. “Ah… fuck.” 

“What was that?” 

“Just thinking of how incredible your hand would feel if it were doing what mine is?” 

“Which is?” 

“Shhh…” you said. He stopped moving. “You hear that?” you asked. It was a lewd wet sound. “It’s my finger, coming in and out of myself.” 

Remus moaned your name and bit his lips. He came in his hand before he had time to really visualize you. “Ugh,” he said as he looked at the mess he’d made all over his hands, some of it also on his pants. 

You took a handkerchief from your bag and passed it over your legs, collecting some of the sticky stuff between your folds and then you passed it through the small, opened section. Crossing your hand, the one with still glistening fingers over. 

You knew he’d noticed the second his eyes opened wide. “So you clean yourself, I used it for myself too.” He bit his lip and carefully took it from your hands, and cleaned your fingers with it as if he tried to wash his sin by cleaning your equally sinful fingers. But he didn’t bring his cum covered hand even close to it. Let alone his cock. “What? You think it’s gross?” 

“I don’t want to ruin it,” he said as he brought it close to his nose and sniffed, stifling a moan with the fabric. Now you were the speechless one. “Do you have a napkin?” 

You somehow managed to pull a napkin from your bag and handed it over to him through the same place. He used that to clean himself and placed it neatly folded in one of his pockets. 

“Can I keep this?” he asked as he held the handkerchief between two fingers. 

“Yes,” you almost stuttered. You had never seen a man do something as ridiculous –and hot– as what he’d done. 

“Will you disappear again, angel?” 

“Angel?” you asked with a smirk, “I would think you’d see me as something else, a devil, perhaps.” 

“Impossible, a devil wouldn’t be able to show me heaven like you did today.” 

Speecheless, again. This man really could bring you to your knees. “Do you even want to see me again?” 

“More than anything on this earth.” 

“Fine then, I’ll come to confess tomorrow, how does that sound?” 

“I’ll be waiting.” 

ACT V: Thou shall honour your Mother and Father

After the heat of the moment, Remus felt the sudden urge to repent, to throw away the handkerchief and to pray in bed until his knees were raw from how much he’d been kneeling. And he tried, but even as he prayed he knew how pointless it was. The act of repenting, of praying and being forgiven for your sins, only worked if you actually felt regret over what you’d done. 

But Remus was far from feeling remorseful. He had repented a great many things throughout his life. Not trusting his innocent best friend and blaming him for things that had happened, not doing more for the world when he had the chance and smaller, pesky things that most people wouldn’t bat an eyelash about but that he constantly put himself down for. 

But having done what he did on the confessionary, hearing your small moans and the lewd sounds that you’d made for him, telling him what to do and how to do it, that he didn’t regret. On the other hand, he wanted to do it again. You had taken him to heaven and he was eager to see it again. And he did it, repeated the same actions, it was cold and dark and there was no one even close to his room when he pulled that handkerchief out and placed it on his face. Smelling the scent of you while he pulled himself out of his pants and jerked himself for the second time that day. He came with the thought of you at the confessionary and your name muffled by the handkerchief that he refused to move from his mouth. By the end, he was sore and delicate and he felt like he had pushed himself too hard, but he found the most peaceful sleep afterwards. 

When he woke up again, he was still covered in his own cum and he had to wash the sheets of his bed in his sink before anyone noticed what he had done. The shame he felt diluting as the sun rose, and he imagined you coming back to the church. He pictured you in that small skirt you’d worn yesterday, or in the simple dress you’d taken the first time that you went to hear his mass. But he was not expecting to see you walk in the clothes you’d worn. 

A white dress, long enough to reach mid-thigh, and made of soft sheer fabric layered one on top of another. He might have been imagining things but he would have sworn he could see your nipples perk through the thin fabric when you turned to him, a small, innocent smile on your face as you threw him a look and walked inside the confessionary. An angel, you really were an angel. 

“Pretty thing, you’ve come back,” he said as he too walked in, this time taking the side that belonged to him, he loved that he could see you. 

“I promised, Remus.”

“I know, angel. But I’m always scared I’ve dreamed you up, that you’re not real and that I was just imagining you all along.” 

You smirked and pushed your hand through the small hole connecting the two of you, “I’m very real, Remus, you can touch me.” 

He did, he placed his hand on top of yours and you heard a sigh of relief when his thumbs pressed onto your hand. He was careful and kind, passing his fingers over your knuckles and under your palm in a soft, gentle manner that was sending shivers down your spine. This poor man was breaking down for you, and yet he was the gentlest of them all.

“You really are,” he breathed. He didn’t know if he should be happy that you were real, or horrified by the things he’d done for you, of the things he’d do. His faith? He might have been willing to throw it all away for another chance to see you, for another chance to feel your hands, for your lips, your kisses. How could he believe in a God that had given him nothing, when you were here, willing to give him everything? 

“Yesterday I saw it all and you barely got to hear me, I thought of showing you my sins rather than describing them to you today, is that okay, Father?” That last bit was a taunt, in the same way you’d been taunting him since the very beginning.

“Yes,” there was no hesitance, if anything, you would have only described the waver in his voice as excitement. 

You couldn’t hold back the smirk that pulled from your lips, Remus’ breath hitched as you accommodated yourself in the chair. Leaning back and spreading your legs for him, letting the soft fabric of your dress fall in between your tights and slowly show the outline of your legs. 

“When was the last time you saw a woman naked?” 

“In real life? Never.” 

Your head snapped to him, although all you could see was the outline of a shadow through the dark-edged wood, “Never?!? Pictures?” 

“When I was around 15.” He admitted. “My best friend Peter once took a few magazines to school after the break. He said his father had gotten them for him on his 14th birthday and that he told them to take them back before his mother noticed. I barely remember them.” 

“Did you jack off to them?” 

“I stole a page,” he admitted with a bitter laugh. “It was this girl with a forest-green, transparent robe. I took her home with me, my father found it and he was enraged. He called me a monster and drove me straight into church.”

“The priest there took a look at the image, and made me kneel down on the rocky floor and pray for forgiveness. I don’t know if he forgot, or if he did it on purpose, but he said not to stand until he came back and he didn’t come back until 7 hours later.” 

“My god,” you said. Remus didn’t even think of reprimanding you for taking his name in vain. “That must have been awful. Your parents were terrible.” 

Remus shrugged, “It’s what I was used to,” he added when he remembered you couldn’t actually see him, although you could feel his hands tense at the thought. 

“That means, since then… you’ve never even–?” 

“No,” he admitted softly. “I guess it’s easier not to do something when you don’t know how it feels. Although my best friend was always eager to tell me how good it was.” 

“Worry not, you won’t have to use your imagination anymore,” you said as you pulled your hand back into your area and moved it to the thin strap of the dress, slowly sliding it down, he could barely see the valley of your breast, and yet he felt himself start to tense, his cheeks heat and bIood rushing south. 

“You don’t have to–” 

“But I want to,” you said, turning your gaze from your bare shoulder and towards him, he could see the mirth shining in your eyes, he could see the mischievousness and the licentiousness reflected on your pupils. You pulled the other strap down and then moved both of your hands to the fabric at the top of your breasts, pulling it down and letting them in full view. 

Remus breathed sharply when he finally saw them. Of course, he knew what they looked like, the girls in Peter’s magazine had shown him. James had described them, but that was nothing compared to seeing them in real life, it was nothing compared to seeing yours in real life. 

You smiled at the little to no sound he was making from the other side. You leaned your back on the stunningly carved wooden wall of the confessionary and squared your shoulders for him. “They look like this for you,” you said as you slid your hand over one of your nipples. “They turned hard the minute I spotted you at the door.” 

Silence, nothing more than a ragged breath. 

“Cat got your tongue?” You teased. 

“I had never seen a prettier thing in my life,” he said. “Except for your angelic face, that is.” 

You laughed in return, a sweet and soft laugh that he would have done anything to hear again. “You’re good at this for someone who’s never done it.” 

“Good at what?” 

“At making a woman blush.” You said. “But I’m just as good,” you added as you pulled one of your legs up on the small seat, your dress fell over and bunched up covering your core, but Remus barely even cared, he was immersed in the plushness of your thigh, imagining how it would feel wrapped around his waist. 

You heard him swallow thickly. 

“In my dream,”  you started, “In my dream, we weren’t here, we were hiding somewhere in the church.” Your breath had slowed down, one of your hands was playing with your thigh, the other one on your breast. You didn’t usually pay much attention to them, but it was that you knew his eyes were on you, that touching them, knowing how it must have made him feel, was turning you on even more than before. “You were kissing me –ah– you were touching me.” 

Remus was, by now, having to adjust his extremely uncomfortable pants.

“How?” he asked, almost in a whisper. “Show me how I was touching you.” 

You couldn’t even hold back the smile from your face. “You traced your fingers over my thigh,” you placed your hand on your bare knee, and then started to move it downwards, towards yourself. “You were kissing me here,” you added as you leaned your neck to the side for him to see better. And then… you touched me here.” Your hand was already in your core. You moved the ruffles of the dress to the side, allowing him to see, to see all of you. You heard a small gasp, when he noticed you had worn no knickers. 

“You slid your hands on my slit,” you said and followed your own instructions, “Soft and gentle, like you are when you’re preaching. In the same way that you moved your delicate slender fingers over the bible,” you breathed, a little more ragged now. “You slid one of your fingers in between my folds, and looked for my clit. You found it almost instantly, and you rolled your finger over it gently, you loved my whimpers.” 

“I do,” he agreed. “I imagined them while touching myself last night. Those wet little sounds you make when you–” 

“Ah,” you breathed as you dug your fingers inside yourself, your walls tightening around it involuntarily. “Like this?” you asked and smiled, biting your lip before you did it again. You brought the hand on your breast downwards and leaned back a little so you could spread your legs even further. Remus’ mouth watered, he wondered how wrong would it be to taste you?

To bury his head in your legs and lick all of the wetness that coated your fingers, to be so close that the smell of you got everywhere, that he wouldn’t need the handkerchief to feel you close. You continued to touch yourself. Breathing heavily, sighting and moaning softly, he wondered what that would feel if it were directly whispered into his ear. 

You were so lost in yourself for those first few minutes, so wrapped in the feeling that you hadn’t realized the lack of beautiful moans from his side. 

“Remus–” you said breathily, “Why aren’t you touching yourself?” 

“Yesterday at night I– I did it again… a couple of times. I’m, it’s a little painful,” he admitted shamefully, but your eyes shone with lust so intense at his words that he continued talking. “It was your little handkerchief’s fault. I was going to wash it, but I got its scent and it made me feral.”

“Aha?” you asked, as you continued to touch yourself.

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you. Shut my door and laid on my bed with it over my nose.” 

You hummed contentedly, half a moan, half a hum. 

“I was so hard it was ridiculous. I had barely even smelled you. I hadn’t even gone through the images of that wonderful dream of yours.” 

You sighted in bliss, breath ragged as you slid your finger out of yourself and turned to him with a smile. 

“I have an idea,” you said and then let out a breathy laugh.

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[waxingrunes]

“Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.” — Matthew 26:41.

[hoje--aqui]

@mollymarymarie just let me eat this fucking priest

[moonyeyedstar]

pt2 Forgive Me, Father- Remus Lupin x Reader Smut (Priest Remus)

*18+* part 2!

You shut the curtain as you sat in the wooden booth you had grown accustomed to.  Your arousal pooled between your thighs at the thought of what was to come.  “Forgive me, Father Lupin for I have sinned,” your voice was low and breathless.  You could not wait for him to rip down the divider and have his way with you.

“Y/n,” he said firmly, trying to sound frustrated but his temptation betrayed him, “I told you not to come to see me here, we had plans for later, it’s not safe for you to come here.”

“But I could not wait, Father, I need you now, please, don’t let me suffer,” you begged.

“But, Y/n, if someone finds out-” you had cut him off.

“They won’t.”

“This is wrong.”

“So punish me then, punish me for my sins,” you said in a quiet sultry tone.

“Jesus Christ,” he tore down the divider that separated the two of you.  You shot him a salacious smile.

“Hello Father,” you squeezed your thighs together in need of friction and let out a gentle whimper, loving the sight of him in his clerical collar.  The sight of you flushed and needy was more than enough to abandon every vow he had ever taken in the House of God.

“God, you don’t know what I want to do to you,” he growled under his breath as he studied every inch of you, his eyes glimmering with pure unadulterated lust, his mind filled with thoughts so sinful he should have caught on fire in that very moment.

“Why don’t you show me then,” you began undressing yourself to lead him into temptation.  His eyes flickered from one part of your luscious skin to the next.  You sat before him completely nude against the cold wooden bench and watched as he grew to fight the constraints of his trousers.

“Hands and knees,” he barked.

“What?” you were taken aback by this side of him.

“You heard me.  Hands and knees.”

“Yes, Father,” you fell to your hands and knees, pressing your plump arse up toward him to put your slick folds on display.

“Oh, darling, you are soaked, I guess you really couldn’t wait until later, hm?” he teased.

“Please don’t tease me, Remus, I need you so badly.”

“What did you call me?”

“I’m sorry, Father.”  Your apology would not suffice as Father Lupin’s cold heavy hand met the soft supple skin of your arse with a loud smack that echoed through the booth.  You let out a cry.  His handprint stung on your skin and quickly turned bright red.

“How do you address me?”  He coached.

“Father,” you blurted in an instant having learned your lesson.

“Good girl,” he praised.  You waited impatiently on your hands and knees as the cold porcelain tile began to warm beneath you.  Father Lupin undid his trousers and pumped himself as he stared at you positioned perfectly before him.  He was so unbelievably hard, his tip dripping.  “Fucking hell,” he mumbled to himself before gripping your cheeks to split them apart, giving himself a clear view to watch himself ruin you.  He pressed his slick swollen tip against your cunt.  You whined and squirmed yourself around him to try and press him onto yourself.  He pulled himself back to tease you and watched as your hips kept chasing after his cock.  You let out desperate whines in protest, luring him to press himself into you as he was slowly swallowed by your warmth.

“Oh, Father!”  You cried out as your walls grasped his cock.  “You feel so good,” your walls fluttered around his twitching cock.  Father Lupin could not tear his eyes away from the sight of himself fucking in and out of your tight cunt.

“Such a good girl,” he praised and began to increase the pace and force of his thrusts.  The sound of his skin smacking against yours fought to be heard against your breathless moaning.  “God, and such a perfect pussy, you take me so well,” he growls, resisting the urge to let his head fall back and tear his eyes away from you.  His grip on you tightened, he kept you firmly in place as he drove himself in and out of you mercilessly.  Your walls spasmed around his cock as he stuffed you each and every time.

“S-So good,” you cried out drunkenly, intoxicated by the way he fucked you like the dirty whore you are.  He slid one hand off of your arse and up your spine making you shudder before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged it back, forcing your head and neck to extend towards him.

“Look at me,” he ordered.  He pulled your hair to tilt your head as far back as possible.  You choked out moans looking back at him.  “Open your mouth.”  You did as told, letting your mouth fall open.  “Such a filthy slut, couldn’t even wait for me at home,” he growled before spitting into your mouth.  You stared up at him wide-eyed, entranced by his dominance as you felt your orgasm build in your core.

“S-So close,” you whimpered.

“You will cum when I tell you to,” he growled and continued to pound in and out of you at a relentless pace.  

“Yes, Father,” you cried out as your back arched to fit him deep inside yourself.  He gripped your hair painfully tight and snaked his free hand off your side to rub circles on your swollen clit.  “Oh god yes!”  Your arms fail you letting you fall forward, luckily Father Lupin’s grasp on your hair was enough to keep you upright.  “Oh, please Father, I cannot hold it much longer,” you pleaded.

“Cum for me, Y/n,” he commanded.

“Oh, Father Lupin!” your cunt spasmed around his cock as you dissolved into pleasure, your vision fading to black as he continued to assault your pussy.  Your moans were muffled and incoherent as you fell limp.

“Where should I cum?” he grunted.

“My cunt, Father,” you whined hazily.

“Fuck,” he growled as his hips stuttered and he emptied himself inside you.  He laid you both gently on the cold floor and caressed your side as the two of you did your best to catch your breath.  “You know you really shouldn’t come here, Y/n, it’s best if you just wait for me when I go home.”

“I don’t get the same reaction out of you when we do it at home,” you blushed.

“Get dressed, I’ll leave early so we can go spend the night together,” he smiled as he sat up.“Yes, Father,” you grinned cheekily.

[inkstainedforever]

Dear Your Holiness by @mollymarymarie bound in collaboration with my darling @earlgreymoony GORGEOUS custom art for our darling @honeyymoonyy as part of the #cruelmarauderssummer exchange!

I remember Ana talking to me about how cool it would be to have a window pane stained glass effect when you actually open the book so that’s exactly what we did and I am so happy with how it turned out!

I don’t even want to talk about how much material I used getting these binds perfect but I’m so grateful for Ana and Mel (who I couldn’t keep the secret from for very long lol) who were my little cheerleaders the whole time. Thank you bbs for being so patient while I got these done.

Hosting this exchange with @vellichorbindery indery was the funnest thing ever and I am so incredibly proud of and in awe of everyone who participated. You guys are the absolute best 🫶🏼 we want to host another artist/binder collab exchange so keep an eye out!

[foxalade]

"Normalise naming your kid after something you love"

Okay.

Hello, Harry Potter's dead dad and his gay friends, specifically the gay godfather and his gay werewolf boyfriend, SPECIFICALLY in that one scene "Finally the flesh reveals the madness within" "well you would know all about the madness within, wouldn't you Remus?" and then they hug, AND the scene in which someone calls them an old married couple (they are) AND the scene that's like "Sirius sit down" and Sirius SITS. But also said gay godfathers little evil brother who is SO gay and cunty, and definitely had a fat crush on said Father. BUT ALSO the cool ginger Mum who marries said father and they die to protect their son. AND the mum's cool friends who would have been amazing aunts if they hadn't died. AND ALSO all of the stories that have been written about these gay, dead, cool-ass wizards and witches, in which they are cool and gay, play in the hunger games, Fuck priest, and Live happily ever after. Oh, and I suppose the rat is okay too.

[vellichorbindery]

Here’s my take on Dear Your Holiness by the ever talented @mollymarymarie

This might be my fav wolfstar fic ever and I wanted to pay homage to my catholic raised self with a sacrilegious bind 😂✝️

Bible theme inspo from my dear friend Amanda.

Typeset created by yours trulyyyy.

Cross cutout was a bitch but so worth it for that gaudy look, yea?

Read on ao3 for FREEEEE.