Ye’ Blood Hound

18+ account— gimme a fuckin’ minute to gather me head. 🪕 WIP 🙃

[irishbloodhound]

Me losing/forgetting my password for this account. 😭

MY BAD. MY BAD.

[irishbloodhound]

Would you give me a chance if I let you turn me 🤭

Remmick went still at the words, the weight of them cutting sharper than perhaps they meant. His eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in that quiet, haunted way that suggested he was already miles away—thinking of blood, of shadows, of the kind of eternity they couldn’t possibly fathom.

“Careful,” he said at last, his tone rough, deliberate, each word dragging like gravel. “You toss that offer like it’s some coin for barter. Like all it costs is a little blood and a kiss in the dark. But you don’t know what you’re askin’ me for.”

He leaned forward, gaze fixed on theirs with an intensity that felt like it could pin them in place.

“Turnin’ ain’t a gift. It’s a chain. An endin’ you wear like a second skin. You think it’d win my favor? That I’d look at you different, grant you some chance just because you chose damnation to meet me halfway?” His mouth twisted into something sharp and joyless, a shadow of a smile.

He sat back, shaking his head once, slow.

“If I ever wanted you close, I’d want you as you are. Flesh, flaws, warmth—mortal. I don’t need another monster standin’ at my side. I’ve enough of that in the mirror.”

His eyes lingered on theirs, softer now, though no less heavy.

“So no. Don’t offer me your eternity. If I’m to give you a chance…” his voice dipped lower, quieter, “it’ll be for the way you breathe, not the way you’d burn it out.”

[irishbloodhound]

oh remmick~ ive been wondering,, do you have a favorite body part ? does anything in particular strike your fancy ?~

Remmick’s head tilted at the teasing lilt of their words, his gaze settling on them in a way that stripped the playfulness down to something heavier. His tongue pressed slow against the inside of his cheek before he finally spoke, voice low and deliberate.

“Favorite body part?” he echoed, like he was tasting the phrase. “Folk usually expect an answer about lips… hands… curves. But truth is, none of that holds me long.”

His eyes lingered on theirs, sharp and unblinking, the faintest curl tugging at his mouth.

“What strikes my fancy,” he continued, softer now, “is a pair of eyes that give a mind away. The way they light when someone’s thinkin’ quick… or darken when they’re hidin’ somethin’. Eyes betray everything a body tries to conceal.”

He leaned in a fraction, the coolness of his presence brushing against their warmth.

“And if I had to choose a second?” His gaze dipped briefly toward their throat, lingering a beat too long, hunger flashing there before he pulled it back. “Well. There’s no denyin’ the pulse has its pull.”

His mouth curved into something crooked—half warning, half confession.

“But between flesh and thought… it’s always the mind that undoes me most. Body’s just the door. Mind’s the room I want to linger in.”

[irishbloodhound]

So remmrick when it comes to relationships lass’s or lads or both 😏

Remmick let the question linger in the air a moment too long, eyes narrowing just slightly as though weighing whether it deserved an honest answer. His thumb idled against the scarred wood of the table, slow and methodical, before he finally leaned forward, his voice a low murmur.

“Lasses, lads… you’re askin’ me to pick a shape, when shape’s the least of it.” His mouth curved faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You could hand me the fairest face, the strongest body, and it’d leave me hollow if there’s no fire sparkin’ behind the eyes.”

His gaze fixed on them with an unsettling steadiness, the kind that felt both intimate and invasive, as if he were trying to peel back their skin just to get a glimpse of the thoughts running underneath.

“What I crave,” he continued, slower now, almost reverent, “is a mind that cuts like glass. A wit that stings, words that twist and tease until I’ve no choice but to follow. Someone who can turn silence into a storm with the right look, or undo me with a clever phrase. That’s the sort of company I lose myself in—whether they wear a skirt, or boots, or nothin’ at all matters little.”

A shadow of something sharper, darker, flickered through his expression before he tempered it back into restraint. He leaned back, voice softening to a near whisper.

“So, you see… it’s not the body that tempts me. It’s the soul that knows how to wield itself. Minds are the sweetest kind of prey—and the most dangerous to devour.”

[irishbloodhound]

Come dance in the moonlight Remmick dear.

The air is crisp and the night is clear.

There's magic hiding in the shadows and songs to be sung under the starlight. Take my hands. I don't bite.

Remmick’s brows ticked at the invitation, the sing-song lilt of their words pulling a reluctant twitch of a smile across his mouth. He leaned back slightly, watching them with the kind of weary amusement that never quite shed its edge.

“Mm. That’s what they all say—I don’t bite.” His voice carried the scrape of a hesitant thirst, threaded with irony, though his eyes softened, drawn in by the way their hands reached for him under the pale spill of moonlight.

He lingered a beat too long in silence, gaze flicking from their face to the shadows stretching across the earth. The night was his by nature, yet something in their beckoning made it feel less like a hunt and more like an offering of reprieve.

“Y’know, I’ve spent a lifetime walkin’ in the dark.” he admitted low, almost to himself. Then, shifting forward, he took their hands—his colder than the crisp air between them, rough palms clasping around theirs with surprising care.

“If you’re intent on draggin’ me into whatever magic you think’s hidin’ out here,” he murmured, a crooked smirk tugging at his lips, “just remember—shadows don’t sing, and I can’t promise I won’t step on your feet.”

[irishbloodhound]

When I leave fer a few days unannounced—

Fuckin’ Christ, Didn’t mean to leave ye’ all dry.

[irishbloodhound]

You run... cold right? If I asked very nicely could I curl up against you?

I am always very warm. And I've been in the sun all day. Use me like your own personal heating blanket. And if you get thirsty, well- my throat will be right there.

His shoulders stiffened at the words, the careless way they dangled their throat before him like bait. It earned them a hard look, eyes shadowed with a wariness born from too many nights fighting off hunger.

“You’ve got a cruel way of offerin’ kindness,” he murmured, gravel heavy in his tone. “That throat’s not a gift—it’s a test. And I’m tired of bein’ tested.”

He let out a low breath, the sharp edge softening as he watched them, warmth tugging at the corners of his otherwise stern mouth.

“But you want me close, hm? That I can do. Strange request, but not an unwelcome one.” His posture loosened, an almost reluctant ease settling into his frame. “Feels like maybe I’d sleep easier, with your heat tucked against me…Maybe...”

Still, his eyes flicked one last time toward the line of their throat before dragging back up, guarded but gentler now.

“Blanket I’ll take. The rest… you don’t know what you’re askin’ for.”

He almost grumbles in protest under his breath before gingerly reaching out to grasp the front of their attire and reel them to his front, clasping his arms around them.

[irishbloodhound]

Realized I have bad timing… gave myself the ICK 😭😖

[irishbloodhound]

How close can I get before you take a bite?

How long can I sit on your lap before you succumb?

Can we try it out?

Remmick froze at the taunt, throat aching as if he’d swallowed fire. His grin faltered into something raw, hungrier than he wanted to show.

“Christ… you’ve no idea what you’re askin’,” he murmured, voice rough, broken at the edges. His gaze flicked to their mouth, then down, fighting himself and failing.

“You sit in my lap, darlin’, I won’t last a heartbeat. I’ll take more than I should… more than you’ll forgive.” His hand flexed uselessly at his side, aching to reach for them.

He huffed a laugh that sounded more like defeat, “Don’t tempt me like that. I’m starved enough already.”

[irishbloodhound]

Ooh you look absolutely delicious. A guilty pleasure even. Tell me, what's a girl gotta do to get a lad like you to come play for a while?

We could get up to our necks in mischief.

Some games that we can really sink our teeth into.

I'll bite, I'm up for anything that gets the blood pumping.

Remmick’s grin was slow, like a secret unfurling, eyes glinting with something unspoken.

“Delicious, eh? You make it sound simple… but darlin’, a taste comes at a price.”

He leaned in, voice low and teasing, a whisper of promise and warning.

“Mischief, games, sinkin’ teeth… I’ll play. But beware—what you give isn’t always what you get, and what I take… might not be what you expect.”

[irishbloodhound]

can i have a hug 🥺

Remmick stiffened at the request, jaw tightening as if the word itself sat uneasy on his tongue. “A hug?” he echoed, half scoff, half disbelief. His eyes lingered a beat too long, weighing whether to brush it off.

But with a sigh, he opened an arm, grumbling low, “Ah, hell with it—c’mere then, before I change my mind.”

When they leaned in, his hold was rough at first, awkward in its restraint, until his grip steadied into something firmer—protective, despite himself. “Don’t get any notions,” he muttered against their hair, voice softer than he meant it to be.

[irishbloodhound]

can you scratch my back till I fall ‘sleep 🙏

Remmick huffed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head as though the request amused and annoyed him all at once.

“Christ above… you’ve got me doin’ the damnedest things.”

Still, he settled behind, his hand dragging slow and steady across their back, voice dropping to a murmur.

“Don’t go gettin’ used to it, darlin’. I ain’t in the business of lullabies… but just this once.”

[angel1207]

[irishbloodhound]

YE’ OLD OOP. 🫠

[irishbloodhound]

“Not ya’ll at my door like a pack of ole starving dogs…”

[irishbloodhound]

You pretty cute for a bloodsucker.. See I might let ya suck on somethin' else if ya don't bite. You up for it, darlin?

Remmick’s grin was a slow cut across his face, eyes burning with mischief.

“Cute, is it? Careful now, darlin’—wolves don’t soften just ‘cause you fancy their smile.”

He leaned closer, voice dropping low.

“Offerin’ me somethin’ sweet but tellin’ me not t’ bite? Ah, love… that’s the one thing I can’t promise.”

[irishbloodhound]

Adopt me, I need a papa

Remmick let out a low, rasping chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back with that wolfish grin tugging the corner of his mouth.

“Papa, huh?” his voice carried a teasing bite, though his eyes stayed dark and unreadable. “Sweetheart, ye don’t know what yer’ askin’ for. I ain’t the type you bring home to hold hands and read you bedtime stories. My kind of parenting’ll ruin you before it raises you.”

He tilted his head, smirk lingering.

“But… if yer real set on it—” his tone dropped lower, half a growl, half a dare— “don’t cry when daddy bites.”

[irishbloodhound]

Vampiric Fae || Perpetual || Smart Ass

18+ Always || DMs & Asks Open

Author Lore ✍️

31 • Ditzy • Always Kind (Unless Provoked)