It's warm in your room. Too warm. His bare chest is sticky against your back, his breath heavy and damp where it ghosts against your neck.
You’re tangled up in him, the two of you still half-naked, sheets kicked down to your ankles. He’s curled around you like he’s afraid someone’s going to rip you out of his arms, like the last hour wasn’t proof enough that you finally let him in- for real this time.
Remmick always talks after. He needs to. Needs to fill the quiet like he’s afraid it’ll mean something’s changed if he doesn’t.
And God, he can’t shut up.
"I thought about you," He murmurs into the shell of your ear. "Like this. For too long." He’s still trying to catch his breath, but his hands are already roving again- lazy now, just skimming your waist, mapping the softness of your hips with a desperate adoration.
"Every night I’d lie there and imagine this. Not just the sex- I mean, that too, obviously." He snickers, eyes flitting between your entwined bodies.
"But shit, baby, you’re just so... perfect." He nuzzles closer, planting a kiss under your jaw, voice dipping into that velvet tone he only uses when he’s honest. "But this. You letting me stay. Letting me touch you after. Hold you."
You reach back and tangle your fingers in his hair. It’s damp with sweat. He practically purrs at the contact, pressing a kiss to your shoulder like he wants to crawl inside your skin.
"Wasn't too much, was I?” he asks, quieter now. He murmurs with something raw, almost something boyish. But you know better. The smirk in his tone when he says it- he knows. He knows you couldn't get enough.
When you shake your head, he presses another rewarding kiss to your neck, humming in pleasure.
"That's what I thought." He whispers, squeezing you close. "You gon' let me in tomorrow night too, yeah?"
"Remmick-"
"Shh." He hushes you, shaking his head in mock displeasure, a finger coming up to your lips to quiet you. "Just nod your pretty little head."
You think of what could happen- what you're doing. Letting a killer love you like this. But against your better judgement, you nod, looking into those lovestruck eyes he casts on you.
A slow grin spreads across his face. You're already underneath him when he slides back in- half hard, too sensitive, and still not done. The room smells like sex, humid and sweet, and his chest is flushed as he rolls his hips slow, lazy.
"You feel that? Nah, that’s love, darlin'. That’s me loving you so slow, so deep, so damn good no one else could ever even try." His voice is a broken overstimulated growl.
He kisses your spine once. Then again. Then again.
"This is all ours." He urges, baring his teeth, "Never gon' let anyone take it from us." He promises, almost obsessively into your shoulder, letting you feel him stretch you open.
You believe him. You feel it in every lazy, desperate thrust. In the way he wraps himself around you tighter, keeps you locked against him. You briefly realize that you're all he has.
A/n: just a small, very short drabble/one shot, whatever you want to call this I guess, idk what this is I just got extremely bored. This is not proofread at all
Warnings: smut mdni, praise, first time remmick feeding from reader and he feels sentimental LMAO, dirty talk, pet names, corruption kink maybe
The bite throbbed like a second heartbeat. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—not with him still nestled so deep inside you, cock twitching as he lazily rutted into the overstimulated mess he’d made of you. “Good girl,” Remmick purred, brushing your damp hair back from your face “Took it all so sweet. Let me feed like you were born for it.”His fangs were gone now. Lips kiss-swollen and smeared with a line of your blood he hadn’t bothered to clean, it should’ve been terrifying..But all you felt was owned.
He shifted, dragging his cock out so slowly you whimpered at the loss—“I know, sugar. I know,” he cooed…only for him to slam back in with a low grunt that made you cry out. “Still fuckin’ perfection,” he groaned, rolling his hips “Your little cunt’s clingin’ to me like it knows.” You were too wrecked to speak, only moans and broken gasps left your throat, tears slipping down your cheeks from sheer overstimulation, He licked them off.
“Gonna cry for me again, little lamb?” he whispered, mouth hot at your ear “Bet your daddy’d fall over dead if he saw you now. Split open on m’cock, marked and ruined.”
You sobbed—half from guilt, half from bliss. Remmick’s hand slid over your belly, pressing down. “You feel that, sugar? That’s me, Deep where no man’s ever been. Where no man ever will be but me.”
Also very big question: How did Remmick become a vampire in the first place? Did another vampire that’s since perished turn him?
I’ve been mentally toying with the idea that he became one through magick that may have backfired or a curse(?). It’s hinted that Remmick was a Filí (given his knowledge of Sam’s ability, visions, etc.), which were regarded as having supernatural abilities.
Perhaps Remmick tried using the power of his music to ward of Irelands Christian colonizers — becoming something unnatural but with the potential strength to prevent the loss of his people — only for it to be futile in the end and him being stuck like that for the rest of his afterlife.
oh this was also deleted here bc smoke mentions hogwood possibly setting them up but in the movie he’s not mentioned here, it jumps straight to if remmick, joan and bert brought company then they have enough firepower
I found an interview with Ryan Coogler and Ludwig Goransson talking about the music of Sinners, and there's a very touching part about how the mid-credits scene came to be. So, spoilers below:
The final scene in the film, technically a post-credits scene, was actually the first one shot chronologically. Coogler wanted to show a more recent link to the story’s century-old events, and he really wanted his uncle’s favorite blues musician, Buddy Guy, to be involved. But he quickly learned that Guy, now in his late 80s, hadn’t been to a theater since the “fish movie,” a.k.a. “Jaws,” and he despaired of his chances.
Still, he arranged to go see Guy play in Chicago.
“I get to the show,” says Coogler, “and his whole family is in the backstage room — his grandkids. And they’re like, ‘Oh, cool, we’re going to bring you to see our grandpa.’ And me and Zinzi go in there and sit down, and he’s like, ‘Yo, man.’”
“I’m not a movie guy,” the bluesman said, in Coogler’s retelling of this momentous meeting, “but my kids love your movies and they tell me that I gotta meet with you. So I’m here — whatever you need. You want me to sing? I’ll sing. You want me to act? I’m on for the work. But I got you.”
“I pitched him what the movie was,” Coogler continues, “and he told me his life story about being a sharecropper as a kid and going up to Chicago and trying to learn how to play. I broke down crying, because everything I had just written in the script, this dude lived.”
“Outside of the supernatural stuff,” Coogler clarifies.
GIYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS GUYS IMAGINE IMAGINE IMAGINE WITH ME! Let’s hold hands in a circle please and let me say something real thoughtful about our Irish lad Remmick.
Btw.. I wrote this at 3:54 a.m.. and I had an exam the next day.. so, I promise there is a shit ton of mistakes in here just.. JUST DONT LOOK AT THEM OKAY GUYS
Slight gore and NSFW below the cut!!
Remmick with a werewolf reader. Her family.. a long long LONG heritage of wolves that date back to who fucking knows when, made a deal with the Choctaw in order to have peace between them. Because before they would hunt them, or more so both groups would hunt each other, and eventually they found that harmony would do much better than anything. Especially cause they hear whispers of something inhuman.. unnatural lurking its way in the shadows, that feasts on the blood of the innocent and burns under the brightness of the sun.
They both make a deal to never associate with vampires, and to instead protect the land from them and to protect each other. There was strength in numbers. And both groups are amazing at just keeping to them selves when need be, aside from helping against danger— both really don’t fuck around with evil shit. They’re good.
But Remmick doesn’t give TWO SHITS!! Bro doesn’t not give a FUCK and aside from the fact that he never messed around with werewolves before cause uh duh.. he comes across one, a young woman— freshly riped, beautiful. Has the stars of the night twinkled in her eyes, the soft winds in her words and the warmth of the sun in her laugh. She holds life he’s never seen before.. and he wants that pussy NOWHHHHHHH
So he literally won’t leave this poor girl alone, he comes every night to her doorstep, pleading to be let in. That doesn’t work, and so he thinks coaxing her with sweet words and a charming smile might.. nah. She doesn’t fuck around like that.
BUT!! She doesn’t close the door.. and once his freaky ass stops drooling at her doorstep and instead he just talks.. really talks and listens, is when he actually falls a bit deeper. At which that point on the man is in love. Plain and simple. Before he wanted to be burrowed in between her thighs.. and he still really wants that but he also thinks he might want to lay with her after. Trace her features, softly hum to her, maybe even idk cook dinner for her? Love on her?
It’s how she speaks of her experiences, her memories, her family— this fondness, this gentle nature she holds. As if she cradles each story with her hands, and places them gently into his lap. Something for him to hold as well. She radiants love, really. And when he speaks back his own stories, of Ireland, of his people, the memories slipped away in the crevices of his mind.. she listens. Just as he does.. she really listens. Gives her own questions, comments on little things, holds his own memories with the same care that she does hers. And something about it just.. RAHHH it changes the dude ya know.
But don’t let that little snippet of joy fool you.. he WILL be ravishing that POOOSAYYYY lemme say that cause dude.. when the full moon calls, and she starts to switch into something mean. Cruel, hairy and tall, pure rage and festering hunger— well he’s a bit scared lol. At first.. like he sees her bones break and her flesh tear as it makes way for fur.. and a snout.. and some claws with sharp teeth it almost puts his own to shame. It’s fucking terrifying. But it’s later on.. when the moon is no longer full, she’s far from home, her appetite for flesh is gone, and all is left is a naked frame of a woman with blood painted across her skin.. she shows up to where he says he lives. Some part down by the road, near North Carolina apparently. She’s real fucking far.
And real fucking naked and she can’t just walk home bloody AND naked so she just.. decides to go to his house. Cause.. well.. he’s all that will probably help right now.
But she shows, still smothered in sweat and blood of someone or something else that she can’t quite remember.
He pratically DROOLS at the sight of her, damn near falls to his knees begging her for some of that causeeee ur saying this fine assssssss woman, covered in blood that just mauled a shit ton of wildlife and maybe a small village of people somewhere.. is at HIS doorstep.. naked as the day she was birthed.. on top of the fact that she trusted him enough to GO THERE??
That man is really fucking annoying lemme just say that cause he gets her in there, nice and cozy, before he starts tracing his way up her legs, between the skin of her thighs.
He keeps sweet talking her.. all like “yer’ good now, baby. Safe here’ with me”
And gives her some old washed out robe of his, something from far before her time, which she sits in, still bloody.
He makes her a small snack of some sort, wild berries and random stuff outside, all edible. Puts them together clumsily, presents it before her on a small plate.
She tried apologizing for yesterday night. How horrific the sight must’ve been.. which is ironic given how he’s literally a vampire but wtv.. and he’s just like “Girl, you could’ve torn the flesh straight off my bones— still would’ve allowed you in.” Which is like… okay?? Weird? Why would u do that.. but there’s a part of her that grows almost dizzy with that knowledge, that even if she were to tear him tf up.. he would still be happy as a fucking peach.
It’s not too long before he’s eating her out like come on guys.. let’s be honest. It wouldn’t take much.
He’s going to town, straight crazy style. He’s fucking that shit UPPPP okay? He’s spitting on her clit, licking his name into her, lightly nipping at the skin of her thighs.
She’s no better, she’s moaning and huffing, pushing at his shoulders as an attempt to get him to just back the fuck off cause hello?? She already came four fucking times she thinks she’s good but he literally won’t stop. And she’s sobbing on the table he placed her on, spread out like a god damn meal, open and bare and still bloody cause lord knows he wouldn’t want her to wipe it off.
And it’s fucked ip cause… well.. she sorta broke the deal. The deal her parents engraved into her head, warned her about. About how vampires are tricky bastards, how they only take and never give. She thinks of this as he rips out another orgasm from her, legs shaky, breath hitched and face wet with tears.. she really gets it now.
And given how he kisses slowly back up her again.. and how he gives a small smile before lightly brushing a tear away, eyes tracing over her features, giddy as a young boy with a school crush.. she’s starting to think he’ll never not take from her again.
summary: As a lonely woman whose prayers are going unanswered, you prayed for something to take away your hurt. This time, something answers.
word count & w a r n i n g s: 2.6K | female reader, vampires, brief religious themes (praying, mention of God), spit kink, spit as a major aphrodisiac, dub-con if you tilt your head and look at it the right way, vampire sex, monsterfucking, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, biting, blood mention, blood drinking and loss, I guess it's implied virgin!reader (though it isn't focused on).
a/n: just a quick lil somethin' somethin', but it is HEAVILY inspired by Nosferatu, and the vibe of this song. sorry that - spoiler alert - the vampire bites reader in every fic I write about them, I literally cannot stop myself from doing it. not beta-read, as per usual. dividers by @/v6que and @/adornedwithlight! PS: Thank you so much for all the love on my previous Remmick fic, you guys are such darlings!
↓ fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!
The house is quiet aside from the occassional creak or whine; wood panels shift against each other, moaning low like your grandparents as they sat in a chair. Houses breathed every now and then — never scared you any.
Unlike everyone else, you're wide awake. Though your room is dark, the dreams haven't come for you. Pale, blue moonlight washes your features as you stand in front of the window, looking out into the front yard. There's nothing, no one.
That's just it… no one.
Your head hangs heavy, burdened by the aching, stinging loneliness that you felt.
No one for you, ever.
Hell, even your sister had found someone this past spring. Everyone always said you'd get married first 'cause you were the pretty one of the two. But you hadn't. Men didn't flirt with you, they just passed you by, as casual as can be. People shushed your worries by saying that God works in mysterious ways, when the time is right, can't rush love, and so on. None of those trivial phrases helped you any, you were still alone at the close of every night. So you'd pray. Just like you did every night. You looked up into that sky and prayed your heart out, prayed until you were blue in the face.
You thumb the latch to unlock it and with a small vocalization, push the window up. The sheer curtains flutter delicately, like ghosts in the breeze. The night air floods in, bathing your face and neck in it and you sink softly to your knees, resting your elbows on the wood of the sill. Your hands are clasped tightly together — as tight as you can — and you press your fists against your mouth for a moment as the tears well up in your eyes.
"Please," you beg, speaking against your own fingers. "I am so lonely. I can't bear it any longer. My heart aches somethin' awful..."
You sniff, and lift your eyes to the moon in all her luminous glory, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. "If there's anyone out there… take away my sufferin', take away my pain. I am beggin' you."
You hold your breath, waiting. You're acutely aware of all the sounds; a breeze flutters through the tall grasses and the old trees on your daddy's property, the branches creak loudly against each other, a twig snaps somewhere in the distance. Pricks of light flitter across the forest. An animal, probably. You see them every night.
"Please, come to me." Spoken through tears and snot. "I'm beggin'."
Still shrouded in the shadows of the forest, two of the pinpricks of light stop in the foot-trodden pathway to your front door. You clumsily wipe your tears away with the back of your hand and lean forward out of the window, trying to focus on the fuzzy darkness. They look like eyes, of a coyote or something similar, but you didn't notice until now that the figure seems taller than that, on account of where the eyes are.
You blink.
They blink back before they grow closer, carried on upright steps.
You gasp. Shocked by your own noise, your hand flies to your mouth as though it'll muffle the breathing. You duck back inside the window and fall backwards, catching yourself on your hands. There's a funny feeling roiling in your stomach, like a pit of wet snakes, slippin' and slidin' around in your gut.
From this angle, you can't see the reflective gaze anymore, but the curtains still flutter, seeming to whisper to you, calling your name in a tone that only you can hear. You scoot back, dragging your body along the floorboards until your back hits the bed post, and keeping your gaze locked on the window, you awkwardly crawl up into the bed, twisting your body in a way that doesn't disrupt your line of sight. You slither underneath the covers, pulling them up to your neck like a frightened child.
The window's still open… but you're too afraid to get up again, 'cause maybe those eyes would still be staring right at you. So, you nestle yourself deeper under the covers and stare at that window until your lids get heavy. Eventually, though you don't know how long it takes, you drift off to sleep.
The dreams start as soon as your body settles, as soon as your limp hand falls off the side of the bed, fingertips pointing towards the floor. A shadowed figure stands at the edge of your bed, his hand extended. His fingers are long, tipped by claws that reach out to you and cast terrifying shadows on your bedsheets. Those same reflective eyes stare down at you, watching you tremble. He moves closer, the shadows crawling up the length of your bed until they're pressed down against you. There's nothing on top of you but shadows, and yet, you can't move, pinned in place by some unseen force.
You awake with a heave, a strangled cry that dies in your throat as soon as you're upright. Beads of sweat decorate your chest, and ribbon down into the confines of your nightgown, disappearing into the fabric. Your room is dark and cool, but that does little to bring down the temperature of your feverish body.
Downstairs, you think. It felt natural, like you'd thought it. You throw the covers off your body, and tiptoe to your bedroom door, careful of each barefoot step. You bite your lip and with a gentle pull, you twist the knob and pull it open, praying it doesn't squeak. It doesn't.
You pad carefully down the steps, avoiding the one that creaks, and make your way to the front door. Again, the night air greets you like an old, forgotten friend and you inhale.
Those reflective eyes are staring right at you through the screen door. You can see 'em, clear as day. A moth flutters past your line of sight. As you turn on the porch light, your bare toes tease the edge of the threshold.
"What… what do you want?" Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.
You make a fist in your nightgown, digging your nails into the soft fabric. He takes another step and leaves the shadows behind, allowing the light to illuminate his handsome features. His head tilts slightly as he considers your question, and an assured smile crosses his face.
"Aww, darlin'. You. I'm here for you…" he says, sweet like honey.
His accent is heavy and Southern, but something hides underneath it. You grip your nightgown tighter, suppressing a shudder that threatens to rip through your core. Something about him makes you wanna' step forward into the night, into his arms, but you resist. You shake your head, dislodging the lustful thoughts that try to take root in your brain.
He looks you up and down a few times before clicking his tongue in a disapproving way. You look down at yourself; sweat-soaked and dissheveled, your hair probably a mess, eyes swollen with sleep… God knows what else this man saw. Smelled. Understood.
"You poor thing… Ain't you tired, baby? Tired of screamin' and cryin' for a God that don't listen?"
You were.
"You called," he drawls. "I came."
He did.
He shoulders the door frame, leaning against it, peering at you through the mesh screen. You take a step back, and shake your head again, like a child shaking off her bad dreams. He runs a single finger along the edge of the screen, sharp nail scraping across the mesh with a barely audible tick tick tick. You understand now.
Quickly, but quietly, you push the door shut with a flattened palm. Maybe you were still dreaming. There. All better. Because really… what kinda' prayer is answered in the middle of the night? You hurry back through the darkened house, up the stairs and back into your room. For a moment, you listen in the hallway for sounds of stirring.
Satisfied that everyone's still sleeping, you turn around, leaning your back into the door gently. As soon as your eyes focus again, your muscles tense up and go rigid like steel. You slap your hand over your mouth, muffling the yelp that claws its way up your throat. You reel back, pressing yourself tightly against the door, like you could melt back through it.
Your eyes scrape tenatively along the floorboards, crawling up the elongated shadow of a man until you get to the figure that owns it. That same man leans against your window in a casual, relaxed position.
Be brave, girl.
"How'd you get in here?" You hiss, looking back at your bedroom door. "I ain't said you could—"
He lifts up a single finger, waving it back and forth, effectively shushing you. "Ohhh, you sure did, darlin'."
Remmick clears his throat theatrically, and falls forward to his knees. All at once, his nonchalant expression contorts into one of pain, of longing, of desperation, as he crawls towards you, frowning. "Please come to me…" he mocks in a higher tone, clutching his hands at his chest. "I'm beggin'…"
The realization feels heavy, your jaw hanging slack as you hear him. The world seems to lose its color around you, the floor drags you down by the hem of your gown. You sink to the wood, your ass hitting it with a soft thud. I called him.
His hands drops away from his chest as he knee-walks closer to you, reaching out to sweep your hair away from your temple. "Don't you fret now, ain't no sense in that. Remmick's gonna' make that hurt go away."
Remmick? Was that his name? When you give a devil a name, does it make him less terrifying?
As Remmick crawls over your body, you flatten against the floor, trying to shrink yourself away from him. He throws one knee up and over your hips, pinning you in place with his own. The sensation is intoxicating, and you feel damp heat pool between your thighs. He smiles, savoring the look of you beneath him, soft and supple, pretty and vulnerable.
Somewhere, you were scared. That somewhere that was too far away because your cunt, hot and aching, betrays you, clenching deeply at the feeling of a man on top of you — his weight felt like a blessing, like the long-awaited answer to a prayer. You writhe out of instinct though, clinging to some pure ideal, one that makes the corner of Remmick's lip hitch up in a snarl like he's smelled something foul. His teeth glint in the moonlight, pricks of jagged white amongst the darkness of his mouth.
"Y'got whatcha' asked fer'… don't go and be ungrateful now."
Lightning fast, Remmick's hand lurches out, pinching the sides of your mouth, forcing it open. He holds it there, while his own mouth opens, a stream of thick saliva stretching from his tongue. As it descends, you want to convulse and rip your head away, but with a clawed grip, he holds your head in place. It hits your tongue, dripping towards your throat. A warmth, a comfort, settles over your body, like the rays of sun kissing your body on a summer day, or slipping into a warm bath on a cool night. It's an all-enveloping feeling and you shudder, relaxing into the floor. Your body is no longer rigid, no longer fighting against him. Your legs part, hitching your nightgown up around your thighs in the process.
All you can do is look up into his glowing eyes, watching as the corners of his mouth curl up into a smile. Your back arches against his touch, his thumb brushing over the plumpness of your bottom lip. He smears his own saliva across your mouth. Onto your cheek. You smile lazily, and he nods encouragingly. "That's a-girl…"
With a little maneuvering, he slots himself between your thighs and his hands come down on either side of your neck. You feel his proximity, and whimper, angling your hips upward to grind against a rigidness you know is there, and Remmick lurches forward, sealing his lips to your neck.
He sucks at the skin, sucks until the flesh reddens, until it aches. The ache is a dull one, and even though you ought to stop him, you don't. Your hands find the nape of his neck, fingers sliding up through his dark hair, pulling him closer. He draws one hand down to free himself, and yank your panties to the side. You're no longer lonely, no longer sad. Lust claims your senses, without a care in the world.
Two fingers prod your entrance and you hitch your leg higher, allowing him more room. He sinks them in, breaching her, his thumb bumping into your swollen clit. Satisfied, he exhales above you, enamoured with the way your body sings back to him. With no hesitation, Remmick curves them deep within your cunt a few times, sending stars across your vision. As soon as you moan against the shell of his ear, he withdraws them and you feel him line himself up, the thick, velvet head pressing against the slit.
He's met with no resistance from your eager body, so Remmick sheaths himself inside your slick, waiting walls in one thrust. At first, there's heat as his cock stretches you wide, but your cunt adjusts, hungrily clenching around the shaft. His body undulates against yours, pressing tightly against your sweet, womanly figure as he thrusts, driving himself as deep as he can.
For a good few minutes, there's nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin, feverish breaths and hushed moans. Remmick hums suddenly into your neck, pressing one tender kiss to the bruised flesh, reverently. He's still buried inside you, cock twitching with an impending release.
Breathily, he speaks as he strokes the side of your sweat-streaked face. "You asked fer' someone to take yer' sufferin' away and I'm gonna' do just that. I'm gonna' take away that hurt."
You whimper below him, a semblance of understanding of what's about to happen flashing across your darling features. "Shhh, this ain't gonna' sting but a second."
He leans in again, and you feel a flash of searing pain as fangs pierce your tender skin, drawing a gush of your sweet, cerise nectar out onto his tongue. Remmick groans at the coppery taste of your blood as it floods his mouth, and begins hungrily suckling at your neck, swallowing against the bleeding flesh. His hips find a new rhythm, and you feel your heartbeat pounding through your body — every inch of you seems to have a pulse — but he's right. It only hurts for a moment before you ease into the feeling, your body's natural defenses numbing the pain.
Now, the feeling drives you over the edge. Your vision darkens around the edges, throbbing between focused and blurry. You give a hard shiver as you spasm around his cock, coating him in slick arousal, and Remmick bucks his hips hard into your clenches, chasing his own release. With your hot blood clogging his throat, he asks of eternity, and you nod sleepily.
When he crashes down from that electric peak of pleasure, you feel dizzy. The sensation of being full claims you, wraps you up, and coddles you. Though, in your last moments, you can't mourn the loss of your precious life, you can't be sad… you'd asked for someone to take away your pain, your suffering, and for someone to come to you.
He'd heard you.
"Remmick," you say, drowsily.
He shushes you again with a clawed fingertip. You hear the dull thud of knuckles against a door. Your head lolls to the side, and Remmick straightens it out, leaving crimson fingerprints on your cheek before his weight leaves you.
The last thought you have is daddy, don't open that door.
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