peak sexy fanfic idea: remmick is in the mood for killing and wants to eat. he manages to enter a lonely, quiet house. his purpose was to kill and drink blood from the owner but then he saw the owner's boyfriend. he liked that sight in front of him so he decided to be more sadistic than usual. before he kills the reader's boyfriend, he wants to torture him a bit (a lot). he hits him and fucks the reader in front of him, as the boyfriend watches every detail. it is non-con kinda, but in the middle of it the reader realises that remmick fucks him better than his boyfriend.
Sooo the goat sacrifice worked! They've just announced the Code Veronica remake! AAAAAAA OMGOMGOMG
And I'm sorry to hear that exams are fuggin up your mental health! Please take breaks whenever you can!
Sending lots of lovee!
- 💙👋
Omg anon I woke up and saw it as well!!!!!! Finally we’re gonna have Claire and Chris together!!! Seeing the trailer I think they’re gonna do maybe like requiem where Claire parts are gonna be horror and better in first person and Chris will take the action part and work better in third person.
Now I’m also curious to see young Chris with the RE engine
Omg I can’t wait for next year already and play this with my little brother!
𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔫
Ethan Winters x male reader
Summary: Sent away by your own people as a disposable sacrifice, you should have died forgotten upon a mold-covered altar hidden within the Romanian mountains to show the devotion for the new Lord that came, but he saved your life. Now there’s a towering pale woman who sees nothing but a sack of blood to feed on; a man with a giant hammer that sees nothing but a subject to experiment on for his army; the figure of the village that sees a vessel for her deceased daughter… but he had found a companion to fill the silence of a long and lonely immortality.
He would tear apart an entire village before allowing anyone to take you away from him.
Tags: Male Reader. No Use of Y/N. Lord Ethan Winters AU. Canon Divergence. Dark Ethan Winters. Gothic Horror. Possessive Ethan Winters. Obsessive behavior. Protective Ethan Winters. Corruption. Infected Reader. Mold Infection. Body Horror. Touch-Starved Characters. Emotional Dependency. Unhealthy Attachment. Eventual smut.
ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉
Words count: 6200
Village sat cradled in a shallow basin of the Romanian mountains, hemmed in by black firs. Snow lay packed in the seams between the cobblestones of the central square, gone grey from soot and boot-treads.
Houses leaned into each other on either side of crooked lanes, thatched roofs sagging beneath the weight of late winter, walls of timber and crumbling whitewash patched with whatever boards the men could spare.
Smoke curled from squat chimneys and was instantly snatched sideways by the cold.
To the west loomed the silhouette of Castle Dimitrescu stabbing the dog heavy sky.
At south the reservoir laid flat and oily, long straggling shacks of the fishing village clinging to the banks where Moreau's stink mucuses kept the water at bay.
Eastward, past the graveyard with its leaning crosses, that rusted bulk of Heisenberg's factory belched smoke that never quite cleared.
North, where the cliffs were highest and the trees densest, was the ceremony site itself.
A fifth Lord had come down beneath her wing and no one in the village knew his face or what he was.
Despite that, offerings had to go up the mountain path the same as always, into the dark where the new altar had been carved out of the old.
Everyone in the village understood the arithmetic of devotion by now.
Lady Dimitrescu would always hire girls that would serve at the castle, all reduced to slabs of meat hanging on a hook in the cellar by the next week.
Moreau took whoever he wanted for his experiments and half the lycans tearing through the woods at sundown still wore the rags of clothes their mothers had stitched.
Heisenberg's tithe came monthly, requesting always a small group of strong young men marched up to the factory gate with their hands roped together and all never came back.
You'd grown up with people who'd been swallowed by all of this, seen the faces of childhood friends frozen mid-stretch in the howling skull of a half-formed lycan, jaw still partway human, eyes still partway blue.
Tonight the lottery had come around again.
Luisa's house had been chosen because it was the largest with a fire still working. They cleared the table out, rolled the rug back and scattered ash across the floorboards in a wide ring.
Anyone in the village of a young age had been ordered to come; the freshest blood, ones whose offering meant most.
There were eleven as you knelt in the circle as well on the cold ash-dusted boards with your knees pressed together and your hands loose at the front. The girl on your right was crying without sound, just shudders running down her thin shoulders.
To your left a woman maybe a year older than you had bitten her bottom lip clean through, blood running down her chin in a single black thread.
In the center of the circle they placed a newborn, just barely old enough to crawl. tiny knit cap askew on his soft round head, fat little legs wrapped in wool, tiny fists.
He was Luisa's nephew, brought down from the high pasture for exactly this. They'd done it with a baby because this new sacrifice said only an innocent could feel the threads of fate pulling and a baby was the most innocent thing the village had left.
Small thing sat plopped on his bottom in the middle of the ring of ash and looked around with great big curious dark eyes.
He stuck his whole fist in his mouth and gummed it, drool shining on his knuckles before he gurgled something and laughed in a room full of people on the verge of crying.
On hands and knees, he started to crawl toward the girl next to you. M
She made a sound like a dying bird, a thin keening through her clenched teeth as her whole body shook violently as the baby crawled closer and you could see her chest hitching with the breath she could not get out.
He stopped a handspan from her knees and sat back on his haunches, drool pooling on his lower lip as he looked, head cocked slightly at her before his great dark eyes swung over and fixed on you.
There was no thought in those eyes, whatever moved through that small developing skull was not a thing anyone living could read.
He just looked at you before starting to crawl again, fat little legs scuffling through the ash until his tiny hands landed on your knees, warm and sticky as they pulled himself up your thigh, all soft baby weight and milk smell plopping right into your lap.
Looking up at you and letting out a loud delighted laugh, patting your chest with a wet palm.
Cold flooded down your spine all the way to your feet.
Someone behind you started weeping in relief, others made a quiet sick sound.
Luisa stepped forward and lifted the baby who reached after you with both arms and made a disappointed noise as he was carried out and the men were pulling you up off the floor by your elbows.
You don't remember why you didn't cry.
Maybe because the baby's laugh was still ringing in your skull and it had been such a clean small thing that crying felt obscene next to it.
They gave you a single hour to get ready, putting on the warmer of your two coats and lacing your boots twice.
The priest from the church mumbled words at you that slid off your ears before two men came to take you up the path.
Both of them were older by ten years. Stoica had a black beard going grey and a Mosin-Nagant slung over his shoulder, wood polished black with hand-oil, bolt sticky with the cold.
Andrei had a hunting rifle held across his chest and a long knife on his belt with a cracked bone handle.
They did not look at you when they tied a length of cord between your wrists and the back of Stoica's belt.
Both guns made small noises as they pushed you out the door into the dusk without even speaking.
The path north climbed out of the village and into the firs, snow much deeper, knee-high in places, branches crunching beneath human weight.
Your breath came white in front of your mouth as Stoica walked first, pulling you. Andrei stayed behind, rifle up, eyes flicking constantly into the dark between the trees.
The forest was full of teeth considering it was their resting place.
Your legs were numb halfway up, cord chafing your wrists raw and the cold made your fingertips throb, throat hurting from swallowing the same lump over and over.
A branch snapped extremely close, growls rolling out of the dark to the left of the path, an unmistakable corrugated rasp of a lycan throat.
"Stânga!" Andrei shouted and the rifle came up, muzzle flashing orange in the dusk and the report hit you in the ears.
Stoica was wheeling around firing too, working that bolt fast as his stiff fingers would let him and another shape was bursting out of the trees on the other side.
This was the opportunity you took to run.
Cord at your wrists going taut and then snapping, or Stoica's belt-loop tore, you didn't know which and didn't care as you were bolting sideways off the path into the snow and trees, Stoica was bellowing behind you, "Fucking idiot, I'll kill you!" and Andrei was screaming a different obscenity as the rifles kept cracking at the lycans approaching.
The snow was knee-deep where it had drifted, ankle-deep on the bare ground beneath the firs, treacherous everywhere with hidden roots.
You went down once on your left knee, hard, white pain forking up your thigh and you scrambled up and kept going. Your breath sawed in your throat, heart so loud in your ears you could not hear the pursuit but only the hammering of your own blood.
Ducking behind a thick fir trunk and pressing your back to it as you made yourself stop moving.
Behind, on the path, gunfire and a long ragged howl followed by wet meaty thuds of bodies hitting snow.
Much closer to your location you heard a low huffing snuffle from a lycan moving along the tree line.
Heavy claws compacting snow and crushing a buried root, the rattling exhalation of its breath full of phlegm caused you to hold your own breath until your chest hurt.
It moved past your tree and the hairs stood up on the back of your neck, arms and legs as you waited until you couldn't hear it.
Then you slid sideways off your tree, low to the ground until you were running again your hands up to ward off branches, going in the direction you thought was downhill but it might have been any direction, the firs all looked the same and the dusk had gone full dark now, only the moon glaring down through gaps in the canopy similar to long blue knives.
The forest opened and footing changed in sucking.
You'd come out into the swamp, reek of stagnant water hitting your senses.
Black pools shone here and there between humps of dead grass and rotting logs.
In the mist there were shapes of lycans by the way they stood hunched, sniffing the ground.
You crawled, cold black water soaked into your trousers up to mid-thigh and the cold of it made your bones ache as you kept the bulk of a fallen tree between you and the closest shape.
A lycan thirty feet to your right lifted its snout and snuffed at the air and its head turned, yellow eyes flashing in the moonlight as you froze with one knee in the muck, heart absolutely silent in your chest because if you breathed you would die.
Loud sound of a rifle cracking behind you and the lycan's head whipped around, it bayed in a hollow bone-rattling cry that made every other shape in the swamp lift its head as it bounded and the others followed it.
For one impossible miracle of a second you were alone and you took the chance to run.
Better say stagger ‘cause mud sucked at your boots and you had to wrench each foot up out of it.
You found a bank of slightly drier ground and you went to hide behind a big mossy stone, clamping your hand over your own mouth to muffle the wretched sobbing from it.
Andrei’s hand closed on your upper arm hard and you had no time even to scream before he was hauling you upright off the rock.
Half his shoulder torn open through the coat, blood everywhere, a huge ragged bite ripping the flesh down past his collarbone, his wild and bloodshot eyes emanating rage. "Come here you stupid brat!" he snarled, and yanked you toward him.
You drove your elbow up into his throat and he choked, twisting in his grip to get one wrist free and you tried to shove past him into the trees but his other hand came up with the knife.
A cold hard punch low on your left side under the ribs, followed by a widening sensation when he stabbed you and dragged the blade.
The hilt ground up against your coat and he pulled the knife back out, warmth came with it, soaking down your trousers in a hot wet rush.
Your knees went soft, both hands flying to the wound and you felt the lips of it wet under your palms as you pressed harder to the point your own vision white out for a second.
"Fuck—" Andrei spat. He was looking at the dark stain spreading down your side, face twisting.
He grabbed you by the back of the coat and hauled you up over his good shoulder, bent forward under the weight and started moving.
The world swung upside down for you, trees blurring past, hand staying clamped on your side and you could feel the blood coming through your fingers in slow steady pulses that matched your heart.
Stoica came lurching out of the trees a few minutes later, left forearm a ruin of teeth-marks, skin in red ribbons and cuff of his coat black with blood.
He saw you on Andrei's shoulder and his face went white.
"What have you done you idiot!" He hissed.
"He’s still alive."
"We were supposed to do it on that damn rock!"
"He's still alive, Stoica! Just move the hell faster."
Their voices came in and out of your hearing, pulse becoming the loudest thing in the world inside your ears and behind your eyes.
Each beat was a wet liquid thump and each one pushed more warmth out through your fingers and into the cloth of your coat. You watched the snow go past in patches under Andrei's boots, streaked with red where his shoulder dripped you.
Cold came in as you started shivering and could not stop, teeth clattering together and you bit your tongue, tasting iron on top of the iron already in your mouth.
The path tilted up as they were running now, both of them, Stoica wheezing, Andrei grunting with each step.
There was a rock that rose up out of the forest floor in the middle of a small clearing and it was mossed, weather-cracked along black tendrils crawling all over it like roots and veins, thick fibrous strands of something not quite plant or flesh but pulsing very faintly in the moonlight.
The tendrils ran up the sides of the rock and wove a kind of latticework across its top, with iron rings hammered into the stone at four points where the lattice was thickest.
All air around the rock smelled like wet rot and something sweet like old fruit.
They threw you down on it, cold of the rock punching the breath out of you as they pried your hand away from your wound and Andrei grabbed your wrist, slamming it up against an iron ring at the upper left corner of the lattice and looped a length of chain around it three times, clipping it shut.
Stoica did the same to your right wrist and your arms were spread, legs laying loose on the stone, twitching weakly because you didn't have the strength to chain those too and they didn't bother.
The black tendrils touched the back of your neck.
They were warm.
Stoica drew the long knife from Andrei's belt because his hands were shaking too badly.
He raised it over his head with both hands and his eyes were wet, mouth a snarl as he was muttering prayers to Mother Miranda through clenched teeth.
He coughed, small at first.
Trying to keep the knife up he coughed again, harder this time as a thin black thread came out of his mouth and trailed down into his beard.
Stoica started coughing in earnest, doubled over, knife dropping out of his hand and skittering across the rock. He had one hand braced on the stone right next to your hip and you watched the veins in his hand turn black.
It happened in seconds, thin spidery dark lines ran up under the skin from his fingers to his wrist and up under sleeves as the hand swelled, fingernails going black and curling before he started screaming, gargling, choking on whatever was that black slurry mix gushing out of his mouth, nose and ears all at once.
He sank down onto his knees on the rock and his face was sloughing, bone underneath the skin going soft, eyes filming over and then sinking back into the skull itself collapsing inward where the eyes had been.
Andrei was screaming a few feet away, his back in the snow, kicking, clawing at his own throat. His chest was heaving and his ribcage was visibly rearranging under the coat, ribs pushing up against the cloth at wrong angles.
Bites all over his arm had gone black, racing up his shoulder and into his neck and his jaw now unhinged, dropping open and far past where any human jaw should hinge, tendons of it tearing audibly with little wet snaps.
Stoica's beard fell off in a wet clump, skin sloughed off his skull and slid down over his collar.
Underneath, a thick moss had grown, crawling with thin fibrous filaments of black fungus that moved on their own.
It covered his entire head where the face had been and there were no eyes or nose, the middle of the moss-covered skull was a vertical slit open, peeling apart and inside there were jagged and mismatched teeth, bone-yellow.
His arms had gone long, fingers fusing into three big talons, then four, talons dripping the same black slime that ran off all of him in slow ropes onto the rock.
Andrei in the snow was already past it, his body had crumpled in on itself and reformed, hunched and lopsided, one shoulder higher than the other, bitten arm now a great whip of sinew with curved black claws at its tip.
He rolled over onto all fours, mossy mouth where his face had been opened and let out a long wet retch.
You watched all of this from the rock with your wrists chained above you and the warmth still leaving you in slow pulses through your side.
It was bad the fact you could no longer feel the cold of the rock. Your fingers had gone numb, each breath was a small struggle that took longer than the last to start.
The two creatures had not noticed you yet.
Or they had and they were not interested as they moved with a strange shuffling purpose into the trees.
Footsteps were coming the other way.
You tried to lift your head and it was so heavy.
There was a shape at the edge of the clearing.
A tall man, lean and in a golden jacket. Underneath you could see a darker cloth and his blonde hair stood up even further in the moonlight, mouth pulled tight at the corners.
He stopped a few paces from the rock, eyeing the chains and the dark wide spreading shine of blood on the stone beneath you as you barely heard him curse under his breath and he was moving fast then, "—shit, shit, shit, no, c'mon, c'mon—"
His face came in close above yours.
Tired blue or grey, hard to tell for your drowsy vision.
There were dark circles under them.
"Hey," he said. "Hey, hey, stay with me. I'm sorry, I should've—I tried to get here sooner, I'm sorry, stay with me please."
His voice was soft, American and painfully relaxing to hear.
You tried to say something as your mouth moved but sound came, rather your eyes began to close completely.
"Don't," he said. "Don't talk. Just—" His hand was at the chain on your right wrist and there was a small metallic snap as it came apart rapidly.
He did the left one too and your arms fell heavy at your sides.
His warm and big left hand found your shoulder, right hand coming down on the wound, pressing flat over the slick wet hole and you felt something move under his palm.
A sort of crawling and slow searching for the torn edges of muscles and nicked vessels, beginning to weave them back together one fiber at a time.
It went deeper, reaching everywhere it could now between climbing up along the inside of your ribs and threading across the floor of your lung.
Instead of pain there was a strange dull peace where the wound had been and a smell rising off your own skin like wet moss and old earth.
Through the slits of your fading vision you saw all the veins on the back of your own hand turning black for a single heartbeat.
Blackness ran up your forearm fast and then it faded just as fast. wound under his hand sealing in a series of tiny tugging pulls.
He was murmuring above and you couldn't catch the words.
His thumb brushed across your cheekbone while he observed with an expression that your blurred vision considered grief.
The tendrils of the black moss on the stone reached after you as he lifted, brushing along your back, reluctant to let go.
He pulled you free of them without a word and held you against his chest.
You could hear his heartbeat through the jacket and blue hoodie below.
The last thing you registered before darkness came up to take you was his voice murmuring above your head, not to you, to himself maybe.
Consciousness comes back to pieces, first there was a single bar of dim yellow at the edge of everything before there were blurred shapes that smeared when you tried to make them still.
A low droning murmur of voices that bent and warped as if you were underwater listening to people speak on the surface. You tasted copper at the back of your throat along something earthy and sweet and a little rotten.
You blinked, eyelashes scraping against each other like they had been gummed together with old sleep.
Blinking again, a vaulted ceiling slowly stitched itself together above you, dark beams crisscrossing high overhead, candle smoke drifting in lazy spirals up toward them.
Voices began to resolve, one of them belonging to a woman, smoky and aristocratic.
"—do not see what use a single man-thing could possibly serve. My daughters love to entertain themselves and a man's blood is so much richer than these scrawny village girls. Surely the new little Lord would not begrudge me one paltry creature."
A gurgling laugh answered her that went on too long and it ended in a phlegmy snort.
You tried to turn your head, muscles in your neck answering slowly as you forced your eyes to focus.
The room was huge, stone walls hanging with columns gone black with age. A long table somewhere off to your right, half-glimpsed at the edge of your sight. You were on the floor, on cold flagstones, kneeling-slumped with your hands held in front of you and a great heavy weight pressing them together.
Two figures stood close to one another.
For a second you thought one of the two was a child before the shape clarified and your stomach turned over.
It was a doll the size of a five-year-old girl, perfectly proportioned, dressed in a wedding gown of white lace that ran in tiers down to her tiny black shoes. The lace was old and the white of it stood out against everything else in the room because everything else was so black.
Face made of porcelain, tiny hands folded in front of her.
It turned its head with a faint clicking sound and her little mouth opened and a high giggling voice spilled out, the voice of an excited child.
"He's awake!"
Every muscle in you contracted at once as you jerked and scrambled backward on your knees and elbows, bound hands scraping the stone, getting maybe two short shoves of distance before something yanked you up short.
A massive block of dark iron had been clamped around your forearms, wrapping them together at the wrists in a single solid mass with chains running off it to either side.
The chain rattled when you pulled and it rang against the stone with the dull resonant sound of old metal that had been used for a very long time.
Every head in the room turned.
The doll squealed in a delighted shrieking sound and clapped her tiny porcelain hands in front of her chest while the abomination of a thing next to her made noises as well
"Both of you shut the fuck up!" A man's voice growled from somewhere off to the side with real menace. "Christ. Donna, can't you keep your little wedding cake from squawking?" The voice swung its weight in your direction. "And you. Hey. Kid. Don't try and fuckin' run. You won't make it three feet."
Your eyes tracked sideways, the thing standing beside the doll, who you'd missed at first because the doll had taken all of your attention, was something out of a nightmare you had not yet been allowed to wake from.
Short and hunched, body bulbous and slick with a thick layer of mucus that dripped off him in slow strings onto the stone.
His mouth hung half open and inside it you could see needle teeth set in receding gums, two thin wisps of grey hair clung to the dome of his skull.
"Hhh-hello," he managed.
You scrambled again, away from him this time and again the chain caught you.
The doll turned and walked, small joints moving with the click of a clockwork inside her and the hem of her wedding dress whispered on the stone as she went straight to a figure standing in the dimness, a woman with no skin visible anywhere on her, head wrapped entirely in a black veil that gave her no face at all.
The doll climbed up the woman's robes and the veiled woman lifted her without a sound, settling her against her hip. The doll watched you from there with her chin propped on the veiled woman's shoulder.
The slimy creature shuffled forward, stopping beside another figure you had not yet allowed yourself to look at properly and now you had to.
A man with a hammer, dressed in a battered long coat and small round dark glasses pinched the bridge of his nose. His hair was long and grey, falling around his face while a cigar smoldered between two fingers of his left hand, ash drooping.
In his right hand, balanced on his shoulder casually was a sledgehammer the size of a grown man..
He grinned at you and there was no humor in the grin.
"Sleeping beauty's up, kids."
The slimy one, Moreau, the village had whispered that lord’s name for years, scuttled sideways a half-step but stayed close.
“You mean you wanna screw around with him in private?” the man asked the towering woman and he jerked his thumb toward you.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
A grin spread across his face.
“Give him to me. I’ll give everybody a show that you all can enjoy.”
The towering woman standing opposite him didn’t even react, she merely regarded him with visible disgust.
Heisenberg looked over your head, at someone behind you, and his grin widened. "Hey, Lord-of-the-Manor. He's awake. Why don't you come on over here, get a little closer to your present? You're being awfully quiet over there."
You twisted, block of iron on your wrists scraped against the stone, sending up a sharp clatter as you craned your neck around as far as the binding would allow, finding a man already looking at you.
He was standing maybe five paces behind against a pillar, his shoulder leaned against the stone in a way that read as exhausted more than casual.
Hair a pale dirty blond, a clean jaw with the suggestion of stubble, straight nose and a mouth that pulled tight at the corners. His eyes were a pale blue-grey.
His right hand, folded into the crook of his other elbow, was the strange one. Bare to the wrist where the jacket fell back and pale, almost waxy, fingers a little too stiff in the way they curled.
Both of your eyes met his and held, something in them softened before he looked away.
His gaze slid past you, up, to the figure in the center of the room that had been there the whole time.
You only saw her now because you had finally let yourself.
Wrapped in enormous wings that fell from her shoulders and pooled on the floor around her in pleats of glossy black feathers, layer over layer, dozens upon dozens of feathers, each one tipped with the faintest oily iridescence in the candlelight.
Where a head should have been there was instead a cage with thin slats hiding the face within.
A high collar of more feathers framed the cage at the throat and a single golden ornament hung at her breast.
You did not need to see her face, having heard her voice in your nightmares since childhood and you knew it now even before she spoke.
"Ethan."
The blond man behind you breathed out through his nose.
"Yes?"
"You brought this one in yourself. You have not yet said why." Her veiled head tilted slightly to one side. The cage glinted. "What is it that you would propose?"
You twisted further around, chains rattling as the block of iron weighted your forearms toward the floor and you had to brace your weight against it in order to see him properly.
He had not moved off the pillar, arms still folded and eyes back to you for a flicker of a second, eyes dropping down your face to your throat and back up on Miranda.
"I found him up at the rock. The two from the village were already gone. They'd—" his jaw worked, "—they'd cut him open and run. He was bleeding out and I patched him up before him here."
His voice was tired, voice very calm as he spoke though, unknown to anyone, there was an undertone of seeping wrath at memories of what those brute men had done to you .
"I want to ask," he continued, "if we could stop this ritual thing. I get that there's tradition here and uh… people scared. But killing each other to get to me before I'm even in the picture, considering I never asked for any of that, is something I'd like to stop."
In your skull a series of small wires connected to each other.
He was the new Lord that you had been sent as a sacrifice for, he had saved your life and lied about how he brutally turned two men in terrifying monsters.
The fifth Lord beneath Mother Miranda's wing that one no one had ever seen.
A startled wet laugh exploded from Heisenberg's chest at the concept of Ethan finding dead corpses in his area worse than cats with mice.
Lady Dimitrescu's voice cut across the laughter. "If the little Lord finds the rituals so distasteful, then by all means, divert them. Send the lots to my castle instead. I will gladly accept what he cannot stomach. My girls would be thrilled."
"Oh, sure," Heisenberg snorted. "Of course Her Royal Big-and-Hungriness wants more food, you'd eat your way through the whole damn village if Miranda let you."
The temperature in the room dropped.
"So gauche," she said and her voice wasn’t shy in hiding contempt, "if you speak to me in that manner one more time, I will personally see to it that your insides are decorating the rafters of your own factory. Are we clear?"
"Shut your damn hole. Go look for your food somewhere else."
"You stay quiet and let civilized people talk—"
"ENOUGH."
The single word rolled through the room as Miranda's wings flared, opening outward in a great rustling cascade of feathers, four enormous black sails unfurling from her back, two and two, layered over each other, blotting out the candlelight behind her.
A single moment she stood there, framed in her own wings.
The next, she was gone and a cloud of crows erupted where she had been, great boiling mass of black bodies and beating wings, all of them screaming at once as the cloud surged forward toward you and you flinched back hard, chains going taut as a feather brushed your cheek.
She appeared in front of you. The cage of her head loomed two feet from your face and you could feel cold coming off her.
Walking slowly around you, the hem of her feathered robe whispered on the flagstones as you followed her with your eyes as far as you could, twisting at the neck.
"Ethan," she said, conversational, almost gentle, "you mentioned that he was wounded."
"Yes."
"I see no blood on him." She circled past your left shoulder, head tilted as if she were studying you. "I see rent in his clothing but no pallor of a body that has lost a dangerous amount of itself. Curious."
"He's bandaged."
From the flagstones at your knees a long black ropy tendril burst up from between the stones with a wet thick sound and you jerked so hard that the iron block clamped on your wrists cracked against the stone.
The tendril rose up in front of you, sleek and pulsing, its surface glistening with the same slimy black moss you had last seen growing on the bodies of two men in a clearing.
Fibrous, made by millions of tiny filaments that pulsed faintly.
It bent toward you and touched the hem of your shirt with an almost shy little hook of its tip and it lifted.
The shirt rode up your abdomen.
Around your middle, wrapped in a clean spiral from just above your hip to just below your ribs, ran a band of pale linen bandage.
No blood had soaked through, cloth perfectly white without a single rust-colored seep.
Miranda was silent for a long moment.
"Mmm," she said at last, somewhere between a hum and a doubt.
She had seeded the village, she knew exactly what a knife wound from one of her own peasants did to one of her own peasants and she knew that a wound that put you on a man's shoulder bleeding through his coat was not a wound that closed up under a wrap of linen by the time you woke.
The tendril let your shirt fall back into place and slid back down into the stone, vanishing entirely between two flagstones.
Miranda stood there and tilted the cage one way before turning and addressing the room.
"Keep him, then. For all I care."
"Mother—" Lady Dimitrescu began.
"My decision is final. There will be no argument." The voice rose again and the wings stirred. "Remember from whence you came."
Silence.
Heisenberg's jaw worked as he took the cigar out of his mouth and tapped a long curl of ash off it onto the flagstones.
He muttered something under his breath that was almost certainly obscene.
Miranda's veiled head turned toward him alone.
He sighed in a long theatrical sigh.
"All right. Take your toy, Ethan Winters."
He raised his right hand and it glowed, faintly, an inner blue light that ran in thin pulses from his palm out along his fingers.
The block of iron clamped around your wrists shuddered, chains shuddering with a scraping protest, peeling away and flying through the air toward him in a sudden rush of metal. He caught it on the head of his hammer without even glancing at it.
Your hands fell free and you drew them in close against your chest, rubbing at them slowly with the pads of your thumbs.
You felt very smaller than you had ever felt in your life while staying between all those lords.
A large hand settled gently upon your shoulder and the touch immediately drew your attention upward.
Lord Ethan Winters stood close enough now that you could make out details missed before like the worn stitching on his jacket, small scars along his hands.
His expression looked softer and less guarded, a small smile rested there.
Somehow the sight eased something inside you, strangely abruptly.
Whenever your gaze settled on Ethan, some instinct buried deep inside seemed to relax and it confused you considering how you barely knew him.
Trust him
The feeling settled somewhere beneath conscious thought.
Subtle but persistent.
A quiet pull that grew as Ethan’s thumb shifted slightly against your shoulder.
Those pale blue eyes glowed faintly in the dark place, like moonlight buried beneath ice.
The strange light flickered behind his eyes for only a second before fading again.
His expression softened further.
“Come on.” His voice emerged gentle. “We should get back.”
Ethan’s hand never left your shoulder but instead it slid carefully toward the upper part of your back.
His eyes remained fixed on you for another long moment to the point that you found yourself forgetting about everything else.
None of it seemed quite as important beneath that unwavering gaze.
Concern and relief conquering his expression along something deeper that he was trying very hard not to show.
“Can you walk?” He asked quietly.
The concern in his voice remained impossible to hide and for reasons you couldn’t explain, standing beside Ethan felt infinitely safer than remaining anywhere else beneath that mountain.
hello!! I hope you are doing well. Thank you for always making such beautiful fics, i look forward to your resident evil fanfics every time you come out with something :)
I was thinking what if you wrote an au about rookie leon as a spy/ umbrella agent (similar to ada) that meets rookie cop reader? And he gets really possessive and protective over the reader… maybe no longer really cares abt his missions anymore and just wants to get the reader out of raccoon city or smth…
Thank u again for ur fantastic pieces !!!!
Hi! Thanks a lot for the kind words anon!
I like it, adding it to my list and I’ll see if I get an idea on how to do this <3
Hi, how are you doing? I have a little question, do you have a posting schedule or anything similar? I am really excited for the multiple dark RE men with the stuck in hole trope so I really wanna know if it's coming soon
I apologize if I sound like I am demanding the fic, take as much time for it as you need, i just really like your dark RE men fics(your fics in general)
Hello! I do follow a schedule, in particular i like to post at around 11 PM CEST Monday and Friday since I do have a couple of half done fics that just need a quick push and edit most of the time. (So yeah something new for today)
I guess I’ll take the moment to also say that for the next two weeks I’ll just post once a week due to exams destroying my mental health.
I’ll see, maybe I can get it out by next week 🧡 had a bit of a struggle figuring out a scenario for all characters haha
⛓️💥🇸🇺🇲🇲🇦🇷🇾⦂ Your boyfriend (Marcus) has one rule. Don't go into the basement. It's so off limits, he won't even talk about it with you. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you venture down. Sometimes it's better off not knowing.
⛓️💥🇹🇼⦂ Dead dove DO NOT eat, somewhat dumb reader, touches on domestic abuse, blood drinking, violence, smut, vampire powers, monster!remmick, soft!remmick, manipulation, mind break, dub-con, non-con, fingering, p in v, p in a, slight breeding kink, boyfriend is an asshole, boyfriend has a pre-determined name, bondage, foul language, degradation, turning, coercion, using things in ways not intended.
⛓️💥🇵🇦🇮🇷🇮🇳🇬⦂ Boyfriend x Female Reader x Remmick
⛓️💥🇼🇨⦂ 17K+
🇦/🇳⦂ God, this took me forever to write. I think about a month or more. It was an idea I had a long time ago and finally finished it. I haven't really had the motivation to write for a while. So, I'm hoping this puts some spark back into me. Please be aware of the triggers for this story. If I missed a trigger warning I apologize. If there are errors whoops. There's a lot that goes on in this fic. Thank you @iceemochaa for beta reading this monster.
Tags: @h3r3t1c @gravecleric0900 @novar3ads
18 + Content Minors DNI!!!
You’ve been with your boyfriend, Marcus, going on several months.
Marcus could be temperamental. He sure as hell didn’t like to repeat himself. He was nice enough as long as you listened. Being good. And did everything he said. For the most part you did. He’d shower you in love and gifts, but if you ended up at a disagreement it was as if he became a whole different person. Brutish, demanding. Terrifying even. So, you did your best not to push his buttons. That’s how your relationship was. His pretty girlfriend, which he knew, never had too many thoughts going on. Perfect for a guy like him
Just over a week ago, you and him collectively made the decision to move in together. You were still moving a few things, adding your personal touch to his place. As soon as you arrived there was an odd vibe to his home. An off feeling. A lingering aura hovering all around. You tried to disregard the feeling, tacking it up to new home jitters.
One evening, while you and your boyfriend were relaxing on the couch, you randomly brought up something that had been on your mind.
The basement.
The door was always closed. Locked from what you could tell. Sure, it was none of your business, but you were curious all the same.
Your boyfriend immediately shut you down. Telling you it was off limits.
Of course, you with curiosity—or stupidity—asked him about it anyway. A simple question.
Your boyfriend grew defensive instantly. Voice raised, practically yelling at you that it was a ‘private space’. Playing it off that you understood. Making a small joke that it was his ‘man cave’. However, when you saw the cold look on his face your laughter died out quickly. He was dead serious on this topic. All you did after was nod your head and promise to leave it alone. Dropping that matter altogether. This seemed to appease him and put him in a better mood.
And you did just that. Going about your day, walking by the basement door as if it were non-existent. For hours at a time your boyfriend would disappear down there. Never telling you what he was up to. You assumed it had something to do with his hobby.
One time, however, your curiosity got the better of you. You knew your boyfriend had gone down. So, you pressed your ear to the door.
Silence.
Not a sound. Not a scuff of feet moving. Nothing. No, you weren’t the smartest of people, but you knew all rooms had to make some kind of noise to them. Right? But not this one. It was so odd. Suspicious even. You constantly thought about it. More than you normally did. Mostly to yourself as not to make waves.
It was mid-afternoon and while sitting on the couch, you thought about the basement. The silence was bothering you. After some ‘research’, mixed with boredom, as you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. Your ‘research’—which was just basic level googling—led you to believe there must be some sort of soundproofing. Or a really thick door.
On another evening, you were relaxing after getting home from an outing. Marcus walked into the living room. Leaning over the arm of the couch he kissed you. A light peck against your upside-down forehead. You beamed a smile up at him.
“What was that for?” You giggled.
“Nothing really. Can’t a man just give his girl a kiss?” Marcus chuckled back.
You reached up for his face, pulling him back down and into a proper kiss. Lips connecting and he hummed.
Pulling away to take a small breath. “Damn baby.” He bit his lip, coming around to join you. Sitting up you resumed the brewing make out session. His hand on your thigh, yours rubbing up and down his arm. He leaned into you and you shifted your body, making it easier for him to slot between you.
Lips firmly pressing to yours, his hand sliding up your thigh. A few fingers pressing against your core, through the fabric of your lounge pants. His middle finger pressed into the valley of your folds, pushing the fabric deep, slick already creating a wet spot.
“She’s purring already for me.” Marcus said with a smirk.
You gasp as he slides his fingers while you gently rock your hips.
“You going to miss me?” A firmer press and he had you all riled up.
“Where… where are you going?” Your body arched.
“Don’t you remember silly girl? I’m going to my buddy's place tonight. Not getting home until late.” He explains kissing you again as he lets you ride his fingers desperately. “But when I get home, I’m going to make sure this kitty gets all the attention she deserves.”
You shivered when he talked like that. Then his fingers were pressing harder and faster. You rolled your hips greedily. Soon a quick orgasm hit you from touch alone.
March chuckled. That dumb cute face of yours all blissed and scrunched fed his ego. You were so sensitive to a single touch it was honestly impressive. He deviously used that to his advantage. Kissing you once more before he sat back on the couch.
“Don’t miss me too hard. Use all those pretty ‘thoughts’ in that empty head of yours and think about my return.”
Your mind already went there as he got up. Pussy clenching in anticipation.
“Behave until I get back. Though I know you will.” He snickered and then he was off. Grabbing a backpack by the door then out he went. Leaving you alone, wet, and wanting.
You lay back into the cushions, eyes closed, taking a little rest to cool the heat of the moment.
Opening your eyes sometime later, after your small nap, you got up. One main reason was to freshen up. The other to get some food before deciding what to do for the evening. Making your way down the hall, hand lazily running along the wall, you passed the basement door. Your hand slid against the wood, as it did the door gave way slightly. Abruptly you paused. There was a newly formed gap between the parted door. The latch must not have been fully secured when Marcus left.
Had he forgotten to shut it properly?
You stared at the small void just beyond, biting your lip. A choice lay before you.
Close the door and move on. Or push it further open. To go against Marcus’ command and finally see what it was he kept so tightly secret.
Hand hovering in the air, frozen in place, thoughts going back and forth until your head hurts. Although you were curious, the repercussions if Marcus found out put a pit in your stomach.
Your heart thumped faster. Sometimes making decisions was difficult. Anxiety burst in your chest as you stood there. Then a faint distant sound.
Something metal caught your ear.
You leaned towards the gap making sure you weren’t hallucinating the sound. The loud pumping of your heart stirred something down below. Then the faint clank of metal rang again. Your stomach dropped. Without further thought your hand was pushing the door open.
Bare feet found the first step. Light from the hallway illuminated the path below. The wood underfoot creaked softly as you made your way down. At the bottom of the steps a small overhead light cast the room in a boring yellow glow. The basement wasn’t how you pictured it. You expected some transformed space. A cozy hovel filled with things that your boyfriend collected. Or a game room at the very least. Anything really. Instead, it was barren like a prison. Old concrete cracked and stained with dark smudges splattered everywhere.
Your face scrunched as you looked at the dirty floor. Uncertainty and confusion speed in. With the solid stone were long deep grooves. Animals perhaps. You bent down running your fingers over them.
What the hell was this?
It puts your nerves on end. The hair on your arms stands up. Fear twisting in your gut.
Was he keeping a lion or something down here?
Even as that thought left your head you recognized how ridiculous it sounded. There had to be a plausible explanation.
Standing back up, you realized just how dark it was down here, even with the light. Eyes daring around, scanning for a light switch—one you may have missed.
On the other side of the room two red pin pricks stared at you from the darker corner. The nimble slaps of your feet moving along the floor had its attention.
A soft clunk and the buzzing hum of lights switching on brought a smile to your face.
“There. Better.” You said out loud.
Off putting the drag of a chain being moved from behind you made you jump out of your skin. You forced yourself to turn around. The clinking of metal on metal echoed. Slow and threatening, retracting towards the corner of the room. At first, you saw an old mattress haphazardly—stained with blood and grime—laying on the floor. No sheets or covers, but there was a ratty blanket bunched and crumpled on top.
Your eyes wide, heart racing in your chest. Thoughts stumbling over each other. A low guttural huff—similar to an animal exhaling hard—cooled your blood. Eyes growing wider, head turned, your body shook as you faced the source.
Red glowing eyes met yours, dimming to a normal blue in an instant. It didn’t even register that there were attached to a man.
A man… wait… WHAT?!
Your eyes were extremely wide looking at the scene before you.
There he was, standing hunched next to the god-awful mattress. Disheveled and dirty. Browning tattered tank top—stained in what you assumed was dried blood—and ripped pants powered with a layer of dirt. He was barefoot, rusted shackles around his ankles, which made movement difficult. Chains were attached traveling upward merging to chains that connected to cuffs that were melded together around his wrist. Then there was yet another chain coming off a collar around his neck, that disappeared somewhere off behind him. The chains were taut, made to be uncomfortable, and restricted movement. To keep a prisoner in an awkward hunch. It looked painful. The skin around the cuffs and shackles were raw, chaffed for endless hours of tight pressure and rubbing.
The worst part of it all was the cage muzzle around his face. Locked in place, inaccessible to his arms. There was a feral hunger behind those eyes, but also surprise. Like you weren’t the person he expected to see.
“My god…” You gasped as a whisper, hands slowly covering your mouth.
He half-shuffled a step toward you.
You began to tremble. The fear, the left-over arousal staining your underwear, and the scent of HIM all clung to you.
Your breath staggered when he shuffled closer until the chain caught, straining against some anchor point on the wall behind him, halting his progress. You could only stare—dumbfounded and in shock. Breath hitching, hands shaking. It definitely didn’t help when those eyes dipped slowly, tracing over your whole body. Trailing from your shoulders, the curves, down to your legs, then all the way back up to your face. Drool pooled from the corner of his mouth. The way a ravenous beast in a horror movie would. It dripped past the metal cage of the muzzle onto the concrete below.
Inadvertently you watched the drops fall. You wanted to scream, but it caught in your throat. Instincts conflicted. One part telling you to run. The other kept you suspended in disbelief.
“I must be having a bad nightmare.” Whispering a quiet thought with a quivering lip.
“Ain’t no nightmare darlin’.” The voice that spoke was rough. Gravely. Shivers wracked your whole frame.
As your head slowly lifted back to his face, he was already meeting your gaze. Staring at you, studying you. His head tilts when you find yourself taking a scared step back. That’s when his eyes soften as if reminding himself that he must look horrible. Telling himself that you’ve never met, nor saw him before. It dawns on him quickly that you might be his salvation. Freedom from this prison. You may have the scent of the bastard who was keeping him here, but your expression reveals you had no clue.
Pity.
He could use that to his advantage if the cards were right. First, the task was to calm that racing heart he could hear. It made your blood rush through your veins, making it sing to him. Hunger had to wait. Though it didn’t stop more drool from pouring out.
With heavy breaths, chest heaving, mind racing. It spoke… No. He spoke. Why was that such a surprising notion? All in all, he looked human. Except the way he looked at you… and the drool. Still frozen in place, unsure what to do. Another step back, almost tripping over your own feet you thought if you took your eyes off him something bad would happen.
The rattle of the chains as his connected hands went up defensively, made you pause.
“Woah there.” Calm sounding, low vibrations as he talked to you—as if you were a spooked deer. “No need to be afraid. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
Blinking a few times, his voice seems to calm some of your nerves. That was not the voice you imagined. The demeanor and body language signified he was harmless. Yet the chains, shackles, and muzzle told a different story.
So, why was he down here?
This time you slowly glazed over his appearance. Fear taking a temporary back seat as empathy creeped in. Old and new wounds, that looked to not have healed right. He was dirty; you couldn’t tell the last time he would have been cleaned. Tank top nearly in tatters it might as well fall off at a breaths notice. Too many questions flooded your mind, and it made the room spin.
You poor thing, he thought.
“Easy now.” Quietly he said, letting the words steady you.
Rubbing at your temples, you sighed. Taking a few breaths because this was all too much. You glanced towards the stairs. The need for air was imperative. The room felt suffocating.
He had to be quick to keep you here, to get your help. Desperation filled his eyes; this could be the only opportunity he really had at a chance to escape. There was a frantic look in your eyes as they flicked up to the stairs again.
“I get it. S’all scary. Strange man in yer home, all bound up. Ain’t right. But you gotta help me…”
“I… I.. can’t…” Your voice quivered.
“Sure, you can. Simple. Jus’ come on over an get me out these things. They’re mighty uncomfortable ma’am.”
It sounded innocent enough and you did feel slightly sorry for him. But if Marcus came back and the guy was gone, you’d be in a world of hurt.
He smelled the change. The new wave of dread, one that he didn’t cause. He gave you a pleading look, and you returned an apologetic one, before bolting from the basement. Hearing the door thud shut and click behind you his shoulders sagged.
“Shit.” He growled.
For days you couldn’t stop your thoughts—the few you managed to have—from drifting to the strange man. You played things off around your boyfriend. Mainly when he asked what the matter was. You spun some tale. Gossip that was occurring at work. He ended up laughing about it.
Petty drama, he called it. Told you that you shouldn’t worry about something so stupid.
You agreed with him and he left you alone.
Every time your boyfriend was away—either work or friends—you found yourself in front of the basement door. You would test the handle to see if it was left open. The more you thought, the more sympathy and curiosity entered your mind. His image is engrained behind your eyelids. You began to feel sorry for him, and you didn’t even know him. Though, you still had no clue why he was down there and bound like he was. It wasn’t like you could get an answer, seeing how you weren’t even supposed to know about his existence.
You didn’t have to wait too long to figure things out. A few weeks later Marcus mumbled something about a guy’s weekend. Before he left, he was excited and somewhat distracted. Kissing you with a passion that you would remember he was gone.
Marcus was gone, and you started wandering through the house. You walked down the hallway, hands gliding over the walls. Boredom and a quiet house. As you passed by the basement door, hands sliding over the wood, there was a soft click, and the door moved an inch. You stopped. That was twice now your boyfriend seemingly forgot to secure the door. This time you weren’t as apprehensive.
Though your anxiety was up, as you bit your lip, you pushed the door open. Hand on the handle, breaking the invisible seal, you stood in the doorway. Darkness waited below. Swallowing your nerves, feet finding the steps, guiding you towards the bottom. The familiar clank of metal greeted you as you switched the lights on.
Somehow looking worse than last time. Paler, gaunt, dark circles under his eyes. He looked like he was starving. You faced him biting your lips harder. Making sure not to get too close, just in case.
A long silence stretched between the two of you. Neither of you spoke, even when words were on the tip of the tongue. The man’s gaze was softer this time—like he knew you would come here.
Finally breaking the tension, he spoke first. “Was startin’ to think ya forgot ‘bout me.” He teased.
Quickly you shook your head no. How could you forget?
“Was ‘fraid I scared ya to bad that you ran away for good.”
You open your mouth then close it again. You were at a loss for words. There was a question you wanted to ask but didn’t want to seem rude.
As if he could read your mind, sensing the multitude of questions brewing. “How ‘bout we start small?” He says gently, softening his low dry voice. To the best of his ability, with a form of civility that killed him inside, as he fought his gnawing hunger. “Let’s start with names, yeah. Mines Remmick.” Hands, restrained, go up over his chest—a sign of formality.
The gesture and calmness he conjured put you at ease. At least for a moment. If he had intended to do harm surely, he would have tried the last time you were here. Politely you reciprocated and gave him your name.
Remmick returned a smile, lips curving upwards—a flash of pointed tips of his teeth barely showing—but not in a full smile. If he showed off his fangs, he was certain you’d be back at square one. And he needed a level of trust if this was going to go in his favor.
“There now. All acquainted.” His hands go down as he attempts to stand up straighter. “Now, I’m sure that pretty little head o’ yers has ‘bout a hundred questions.”
You nodded.
“S’alright. You can go ahead an ask ‘em. I aint’ goin’ nowhere.” As he said it, he gave a smirk, pouring on the charm.
You responded with a soft giggle for his efforts. Your heart rate had decreased, so he knew what he was doing was working. And now that he got to see you better you looked a lot tastier—not just where your blood was concerned.
“Are you some… some kind of animal?” You asked. Stupid question, but you weren’t entirely sure how to ask it.
Remmick cocked his head blinking blankly. He wanted to laugh but had to remind himself to play nice. “Pardon?”
“Are you like…” You grunted. “I don’t know. With all the chains and cuff things. The muzzle…” You trailed off.
“Well. I’m an animal in any sense a man can be.” He utters. And somehow that made sense. “Men are inherently animalistic by nature, sweetheart.”
Brow’s scrunching in confusion. He answered but didn’t answer all in the same breath. It was too complicated to fully argue or think too hard about it. So, you moved on. “Why are you down here?”
Remmick thought it was obvious. A captive. However, he wasn’t sure that was the answer you were looking for. Rattling the chains for dramatic effect, “why don’ ya ask that man o’ yers. He’s the one keepin’ me here.”
The way your face dropped confirmed that you had no idea that your boyfriend was the one who did this.
“Ah. I see. Bless yer heart. He didn’ tell ya. Judgin’ by that look on yer face, you ain’t supposed to. Don’ worry I’m good at keepin’ secrets.” He winked.
“What did you do? I mean you must have done something wrong, right? If he’s keeping you like this.” You muster.
“Wrong?” Remmick huffed a laugh. “Only thin’ wrong I done is exist.”
Your face contorted again, twisting in confusion. None of this made sense. He certainly wasn’t telling you anything to clarify nor to help. And yet pity, oddly, remained. “How did you get all that blood on you? All those injuries?”
“That man o’ yers… Usin’ me like a right punchin’ bag. Likes to take it out on me.”
Jaw dropped in disbelief. He had to be lying. Covered in new and old injuries and he absolutely couldn’t do that to himself. You shook your head. Again, the overwhelming panic set in. It was too much for a person to handle. Your hand slid through your hair gripping your head. It was pounding.
“Jus’ take a breath.” You faintly heard him say. Voice smooth as silk.
You found yourself doing exactly that. Inhale. Exhale. Instantly calming. Before you thought, words left your tongue, when they should have stayed in your mind first.
“I want to help you.”
The chains softly rattled as he perked up. He didn’t even have to ask.
“I, uh, can’t unlock all of that…”
Remmick’s shoulders sunk. Baby steps. He told himself.
“But I can make it… I guess more comfortable. Sneak you some stuff. I don’t know. I just want to help.”
Nodding, he takes it. A hand offered. Maybe he could get blood. No. That would be too much too soon for you. Perhaps you could help clean him up. But maybe you were still too scared to approach. Treating this with delicacy. Everything had to be thought through.
You were a kind soul. Too kind. It stirred something in him. Past the hunger, the burning rage for the man that kept him here—the person whose scent stuck so strongly to you. The fear of being caught hung heavy on those beautiful shoulders. A weight you shouldn’t bear. Oh, how he could treat you so much better. Before he knew better his thoughts ran wild. Drool formed and began to drip in strings off his chin.
“Um..” You pointed. “You’re drooling.” The sight should disgust you, but the urgency and intense stare he had made your cheeks flush.
Remmick shook his head, flecks of saliva fling through the muzzle. “Sorry ‘bout that. Jus’ can’ help it when something so delicious lookin’ is standin’ in front o’ me.”
Your face went bright red. Abruptly you turned your head away.
When you shied away a crooked grin grew on his face. You were so easy. There was no lie. He did find you delicious. Tasty warm blood humming under that soft flesh. That tender skin. How he’d love to run his tongue across it. The chains clanked loudly, pulling tight when he took a few shuffles forward.
The sudden noise made you look back. He was closer, still not within reach of course.
“Let me see about some clothes or something. A towel so you can clean off with.” You mumbled heading towards the stairway.
“Ye’ll be back wontcha darlin’?” Remmick called up to you. An almost pathetic plea to his voice.
You mustered a kind smile and nodded.
In secret, from then on, you made little trips to the basement to visit Remmick.
You still weren’t bold enough to fully approach him. You did try, but there was dark energy surrounding him the closer you got. Hair rose on your arms from static electricity in the air. You kept to your word, bringing him some towels to clean with. Even a newer blanket. Since he mentioned that he hadn’t eaten in days you snuck him some food.
Venturing closer, so nervously, he never made a movement. Not even a twitch. Keeping still—the way a dog would. Obedient, sitting on the floor looking up at you through heavy lashes. Those soft blue eyes ever pleading, now filled with a new longing for you.
Carefully you fed him. Taking small pieces of food and pushing them through the narrow bars of the muzzle. He chewed slowly. As if he was forcing it down. In truth, the reality of what he truly was, his body rejected normal food. What he really wanted lay buried under your skin and in your veins. Playing the long game, he allowed himself the company. It sufficed for now.
One day, you sat across from him, talking. Conversations were usually short. Quick as you kept track of the time. Yet, on this occasion you were too absorbed in small talk you lost track of it. Remmick was sweet, polite, and charming when you talked. A huge difference to the conversations you and Marcus had.
Your boyfriend was more cross, demanding, and liked to talk about himself a lot. It made you feel small. But you fell into that ‘be a good girlfriend’ and listened. He did make up for it when he did show you attention. Usually ending with you in bed being fucked until you were limp. Which scrambled your already dumbed down brain. Satiating that primal urge.
But with Remmick you felt something. Lust. Love. It was hard to put a name to it. He gave you his attention, listening to you when you spoke. And when you start to open up you become a waterfall of words. Of course he would chime in. It wasn’t like you didn’t let him speak. Often tilting his head back and forth in that cute, in a confused puppy way—at some of the things you mentioned. It never occurred to you that he didn’t understand the context or the thing you discussed.
He never asked or corrected you.
As you got lost in hearing Remmick tell one of his stories, he abruptly stopped mid-sentence. Brow’s knitting, leaning forward slightly. Listening hard. You went to speak and his fingers twitched, hushing you.
That’s when you heard it. The basement door. A click and the creak of it swinging open. Scrambling to your feet you ducked under the staircase to hide. Adrenaline up. Heart beating frantically in your chest. Being caught… you couldn’t think on it.
Cool and collected Remmick stood up. Chains jangling as he did. The loud thuds of Marcus’ boots thundered with each step. An intimidating force. Remmick’s face tightens, eyes narrowing, body stiff as Marcus appears into view.
Swallowing hard you crouched as you observed.
“Buddy came through. Finally.” Marcus said gleefully with half-irritation and half-amusement. From his back pocket he pulled a brass knuckle out. Only it wasn’t brass. Grey in color, it shined. It was brand new.
“Plannin’ to hit with that this time?” Remmick sneered, eyeing the polished metal.
“As a matter of fact. Yeah.” Your boyfriend mentions slipping the weapon onto his hand, metal smoothly going past his knuckles, sliding right into place. With a flex of his fist, he stepped forward. He was slightly taller than Remmick, he straightened his posture.
Remmick eyed him incredulously. As if some new metal toy would do anything to him.
Marcus laughed at the look. “This isn’t like the other one. Trust me. Nope. Made sure to have this specially made for you.”
A smirk rose from the corner of his lip. “S’that so.”
CRACK!
The metal crashed into Remmick’s cheekbone with a terrible crunch. Force alone made him stumble. Face turned toward the wall.
Marcus re-adjusted the weapon, now stained with flecks of blood.
Clasping your hands over your mouth you managed to stifle a gasp.
Remmick found his footing, fixing himself upright. The side of his face was decimated. Skin split from the impact, blood trickling down the pale skin. A subtle hiss of small puff of smoke rising from the new wound.
Your eyes went wide in horror. There was no justification for something like this. Bad enough to keep a prisoner. But Remmick hadn’t even done a thing to deserve… Your thoughts were cut off.
Another CRACK! Marcus’ fist collided again. This time Remmick crumpled to the floor. Smashing onto his side. Chains pulled and clanked following him down. He groaned. Clear signs of pain as he forced himself up again. More damage was done to his face.
“Ah yeah! Not so smug now, huh? It’s silver motherfucker! Told you I was going to make you pay properly when I had the chance. Try healing from that.”
Remmick pulled himself into a seated position. Blood pouring from the wound on his face. Skin partly burnt, fresh smoke rising from it, a few layers of the epidermis gone. It was disgusting.
You whine at the sight, not used to this level of violence. Not even from movies. Eyes welling with tears. The pain he must be in. You thought.
As he sat up Remmick’s good eye accidentally darted towards your direction. The other was beginning to swell shut. Even though the glance was quick it was enough. Marcus narrowed his eyes, head on a swivel as he looked where Remmick did.
“The hell you looking at?” A pause, as he squinted.
You shift nervously.
“No damn way.” He growled. Stomping over he saw you clear as day. He pulled you hard by the shoulder from your hiding spot and you squeaked. “The fuck… What are… Dumb bitch I told you not to ever mess with the basement.” His voice was raised, a vein throbbed in his temple. Marcus was beyond pissed. The hand on your arm squeezed tight as he drug you over.
“LOOK!” He shouted.
You tried to refuse.
“No, no, you look! You’re so damn curious. You wanted to know right? Now you get to.” He forced you to open your eyes, gripping your face, making you take a good hard look.
Some of Remmick’s wounds had already started to heal. That was impossible.
Your eyes went wide as his jaw and cheek slowly sealed itself.
“Now I know it’s been you down here. Kinda threw me off for a while. Baby, you disappoint me. But hey, cats out of the bag. Makes things easier. Come on!” Marcus pulled you forward, capturing your shoulder in a powerful grip.
Again, you tried to refuse. He pushed you closer.
Remmick meanwhile pushed himself up. Standing hunched over, swollen eyelid slowly changing colors as it healed.
“Bet he lied to you, huh. He’s good at that.” He continued.
Your heels dug into the floor. It did nothing to slow you down. Now you were almost within arms reach of Remmick.
“Bet you think he’s just some dude…” Marcus saw you open your mouth and he became irate. “OH come on! I know you don’t have many brain cells firing up there, but for fucks sake. This sucker isn’t human.”
You bit your lip. Sure, you suspected, but there was never any true proof that you say personally. And Remmick never acted any differently. Just like the average man with some mystery attached. Suddenly, one of your hands was wrenched upwards, palm side up. “What?” you questioned and Marcus cut you off.
“I’m going to show you. Sometimes that pretty face of yours needs a visual.” Brandishing a pocketknife, blade snapping into place—sharp edge, glinting in the dull light. The thin edge pressed into your palm. Instantly a red line of blood appeared. You winced slightly. “Watch!” He demanded thrusting your hand out and turning your head to look.
Remmick was so still. Frozen in place. The intensity of his gaze immediately locked onto your palm. Mouth partially parted, drool gathered. You were held in suspended animation. Those blue eyes you had grown used to now bled into a crimson fire. His upper lip twitched, the scent of fresh blood—an unforeseen fog raising into the air—a calling card for his kind. A trail which only he could see. A long time without any blood at all turned him feral. No matter how hard he tried to maintain his composure.
Presenting as a man when in actuality he was a beast. A wolf wearing the wool of a sheep. The reflective red glow of his eyes turned your blood ice cold.
Fear.
That same fear you felt the first time you met returned. Intuition was correct weeks ago.
Unexpectedly he lurched forward. The chain tightened, jerked taut, metal digging into his flesh. That didn’t seem to matter.
You fought to move back, but Marcus held you firm. Then he turned your hand sideways. Blood trickled in an uneven line down the palm. Drops reached the end and dripped off, falling into small red pins to the concrete floor.
Remmick tracked it all. Salivating profusely, eyes glued to the life-giving substance. Fangs aching in his mouth.
“See! He’s been fooling you. Fucking bloodsucker. That’s how he ended up here. Tried to weasel his way in. And then he tried to bite me when I oh so kindly offered him a night on my couch. Overpowered his weak ass and stuck him down here.” The explanation seemed far-fetched, yet true. “Vampire bastard.” Marcus spat out letting go of your hand.
Again, Remmick tracked your hand as it fell to your side. More droplets of blood falling off. Behind the bars of the muzzle drool leaked unashamedly.
“Don’t worry baby. I’ll keep you protected.” Out of nowhere your boyfriend’s tone shifted. A more loving approach.
Was it real? Or a cruel trick?
His hands slid around the front of you, hugging your midsection. Face pressed into the back of your neck. He planted a gentle kiss. Tension eased and you relaxed. What you couldn’t see was the way Marcus was looking over your shoulder, sneering towards the vampire.
Remmick growled.
His hand slid across your frame, over your stomach, then up. Deliberately groping you.
You mouthed a complaint, with a seductive squeeze of your breast, you fell silent. Silence filled the basement. A game of domination and torture underway, with you at the center point. Weak to the attention your body caved. Leaning back while you were being fondled.
Remmick growled again. Instinct driven. Unable to look away.
“Want more than just blood huh? Freak.” Marcus chided. “That's why you tried seducing MY girlfriend!” He emphasized, like you were a possession.
Remmick strained hard against the chains. Metal creaking at their anchor points.
“Yeah, bet you want a taste.” Marcus teased, hand dipping lower, brushing your clothed pelvis.
You squealed, face flushing from embarrassment. Your boyfriend’s hand hovered just over your warm clothed pussy. Two fingers slowly dragging back to front in a long, drawn-out motion. You shivered, face beat red now.
“Babeeeee!” You squealed loudly.
“Quiet!!” Marcus snapped. This wasn’t about you. Well, it was, but it wasn’t about your pleasure. This was about control. To show this ‘other man’ something he couldn’t have. To take yet another thing away. As if dignity and starvation weren’t bad enough. Your boyfriend knew that there was desire behind Remmick’s eyes. Lost in that primal hunger for blood. He had seen it before. Knew that your smell was all over him when he came down here.
Multiple times he pummeled Remmick for even mentioning you. It gave him immense satisfaction in beating the condescending look of his face. Weirdly therapeutic. It also served as a lesion in thinking that the vampire would learn. Don’t underestimate prey.
Another swipe of Marcus’ fingers and your pussy grew wet. Underwear dampening with a small damp spot. “Mmmm…. Baby.” Marcus cooed in your ear. Seductively to rile you up.
You moaned softly. Hand squeezing your soft breast through your shirt, the other palming firmly through the layer of clothes. You should be ashamed. Another man watching you get turned on. Watching an intimate act. It felt like a porno. Hot kisses peppered your neck, hands touching. Mind melting into liquid. Which happened a lot. No room for thoughts when your pussy was soaked.
Soon your boyfriend’s hand breached past the waistband of your pants, past the underwear line. Swiping through your slick folds collecting the sticky mess, then pulled his hand out. Fingers shiny, coated with your fresh juices. Marcus brandished his fingers like a trophy. So, he could watch Remmick’s nostrils flare, smelling that sweet scent like a dog.
Once more, Remmick tugged against the restraints, muscles rippling under the skin from the pressure. If not for the chains, he would have crossed the few feet and been on you.
Marcus smirked harshly hand diving back into the warmth, to toy with your clit. Eyes glued to the vampire. The more he fingered you the more noticeable Remmick’s desperation became. And the added tightness formed in his pants. Your boyfriend and Remmick had a short staring contest.
Remmick’s red eyes blazing with feral need and raging anger.
Marcus’ eyes were laced with pride and ego. He loved control. Power over another. Backed by strength and cruelty he always got what he wanted. You were easier to control. A little attention and you swooned. A little touch—like he was doing now—and you melted. A little threat of violence or show of aggression puts you in your place.
Your hips rolled as his fingers snagged your entrance. A groan escaped your lips. Your knees almost buckling.
Remmick choked on the collar as he snarled in frustration. The scent of your arousal acted like a pheromone. The blood from the cut on your hand, still dripped little droplets onto the floor.
That’s what caught his attention more than the act of your boyfriend playing with you. Another growl, this time louder, more feral, deeply emanated from his chest. Mixed signals flooded his senses. Blood was a siren's call to his hunger. Your arousal fed the other type of hunger that stirred.
Marcus saw the break. Man lost to beast. Drool cascading in droves from Remmick’s mouth, body absentmindedly pulling against the chains. Unrelenting, even as the metal creaked. A darkness grew in your boyfriend’s eyes. Every tiny movement he made; fingers dipping into your welcoming folds, curling just right to make you moan. Hips rolling while his fingers expertly fucked you.
You came without warning. One curve was too many and the flood gates opened. Pants drenched, walls clenching down, as you squirt uncontrollably.
“Fucking nasty.” You heard Marcus mumble behind you, fingers retracting. You whined at the loss. The chuckle from him was humorless. He was on a power trip. Riding the high of all of this. Power over the two of you.
Suddenly he smacked you hard across the ass, so hard it would surely leave a red mark. You whimpered when he did it again. Then again. Each time harder. It brought tears to your eyes.
Moving you to your side, Marcus grabbed you hard by the hip, smooshing you against him while he pointed.
“Told you he wasn’t human.” He grumbled angrily. “Over here being nice to a creature that rather eat you. Dumb bitch. Should have just listened when I told you to stay away. Oh, well. Can’t go back now. You’re involved.” He grabbed your face hard, forcing you to look. “He’s like a stray dog. Rabid. Should put him down. But… it’s more fun to have a punching bag that can’t die.” Your boyfriend laughed and shoved you towards the stairs. “Get upstairs. I’ll finish and be with you in a minute.” He commanded.
No leeway. No debate. No protest.
Wiping away the tears you did as you were told quietly. Taking a quick glance, which only gives you a glare, sends chills up your spine.
Door clicking, Marcus turned his attention to his target.
Remmick was focused on the small blood stains drying on the floor.
Your boyfriend took out the silver brass knuckles and went to town. Beating the vampire until he was a bloody heap and half-conscious on the floor. Out of breath, Marcus eyes the smoking mess of a man at his feet. “That will teach you.” Satisfaction and a dark grin. “Now have to go teach her.” He mumbled and left the basement.
The next few weeks were hell. Ignorance truly was bliss. And you missed the person you were in not knowing. Too late for that now.
Marcus let the mask slip. Turning into a vicious asshole. Upping his threats and aggression. He was still angry at you for not listening. Now he forced you with ‘taking care’ of his prisoner.
Remmick.
Your heart ached.
Constantly beaten, bloody, and abused. Kicked like a wounded dog. Curled up in the corner. Quiet. Afraid to even make eye contact for long. It didn’t go beyond his notice that, just like him, you shared your own set of bruises. A black eye here, a cut there, a bruise in a place he couldn’t see but present in the way you walked.
You didn’t want to make waves, so you did what you were told. Still, you were punished.
Remmick’s blood boiled. You shouldn’t have to endure that. Things were looking hopeless on his end. No amount of gnashing or bearing of fangs did any good. With him stuck, he was powerless. And you certainly couldn’t help. Not under constant scrutiny of that boyfriend of yours. That was no man. That was a monster in human form. Just like him. Yet somehow worse. You deserved so much better. The tears in your eyes that should never be there.
You couldn’t escape either. Marcus held you at ransom. The information about what he had in the basement kept you here. That and the threat of violence. Whatever spark or shine you had faded. As you bring supplies and other things to the basement—under the watchful eyes of your boyfriend—never leave you room for conversation past a greeting. The fleeting eye contact with Remmick always has you in tears.
He was always in a state. Degrading insults hurled at him. Just like the fist your boyfriend freely threw.
Every time a pleading look filled Remmick’s eyes, you teared up.
You were both caught in a cycle of abuse. In the times you both found sleep you thought of change. Wishful thinking for a better future. You even thought of Remmick in your sleep now. How you would rather risk his fangs than the cruelty of your boyfriend. To be in the embrace of a supernatural creature then of the man currently laying next to you in bed. You spent many days crying. Though it wasn’t all bad. There were moments when Marcus treated you like he used to. Love bombing you. It confuses your body and mind.
One more trip down to the basement, carrying clothes, towels, and a few other things. Marcus sent you ahead to get started. You crouched in front of the mattress setting your supplies next to you. Chains lightly clank as Remmick shifts. He sits up as you begin to clean his wounds and blood in silence. His gaze shifted past you to the stairway.
“He’ll be along shortly.” You whispered. Voice soft, weak. When you sniffled, in a soft show of affection Remmick placed his forehead against yours.
“Don’ cry sweetheart.” Hoarsely whispering back. His voice was dry and gravely. “Some day ya won’ have to worry ‘bout a man like that. I’ll take care o’ ya. Treat you right.”
He had said this on a few visits lately. It gave you a little bit of fleeting hope. Words to help you feel better. Remmick would repeat the words like a mantra. Hoping you will believe them. Within this tender moment you shared a breath. It was enough to keep him going. Even though he grew weaker he was determined to survive. At least long enough to sink his fangs into that monster.
You did your duty as Marcus joined to keep watch.
Smug asshole. Remmick thought with a glower. I’ll see to it you can’ hurt her again.
With another couple weeks gone. Marcus left you. Believing you trained enough so that he could leave for a trip that he had planned. Fear of consequences should keep you complacent.
A day before he left and he was balls deep in your pussy. Rocking the bedframe with his thrusts. He told you where he was going and for how long. None of which you heard passed the moans and tears. He promised that if you behaved and did what you were told, when he came back, he would reward you. Punctuating his words with several thrust. Your body accepted. Your head swam. He was almost like his old self.
The next morning, as he packed all his stuff, he gave you a list to follow. Instructions on how to take care of ‘it’. And of course, the reminder what would happen if you deviated. Fear gripped you just enough. Disgusting pride, a swell of ego. Toxic masculinity trait of men just like him.
And then he was gone. The car packed and drove away. You don’t know why you waved goodbye, but you did. What should have been a relief to be alone was met with anxiety. As if Marcus was still somehow present. Most of the day you spent curled up in a ball, drifting in and out of sleep. Tears shed until you passed out exhausted.
You woke up to darkness, having fallen asleep without turning on a single light. The bed creaked as you sat up. The house was silent. Deep within you something stirred. You craved comfort. Subconscious need for closeness. One that wasn’t met with violence. You were moving before you knew it. Feet shuffling across the carpet, taking you down the hall, and to the basement. Using the light from the hall you carefully went down the stairs.
Normally you are used to hearing the subtle movement and rattle of chains. But there was no noise. As you crept closer—bare feet softly pattering against the concrete.
On the worn-out mattress, Remmick lay partly curled up. Eyes shut. Crouching down you got to your knees and sat on them. You had to stop yourself. The rare thought—when you had them—crossed your mind, Eyes adjusting to the dark, you saw the outline of the ‘dangerous creature’ before you. Your boyfriend’s phantom voice yelling at you in your head. You began to cry again.
What were you doing? You questioned yourself. He’s not here to catch you. Why am I so afraid? He may not be human, but at least he’s never hurt you. I could really use the company right now.
You weren’t sure where your thoughts were going. They were all over the place. Hard to keep track of through the well of sadness and loneliness. Before another thought could fully process you crawled onto the mattress. Placing yourself close to him. It shocked you just how cold he was. You slot your form with his, fitting like a puzzle piece with your head resting against his chest.
More tears fell as you cried in silence. You went still when you felt him move.
Remmick’s upper half lifts. The extra weight on the mattress, the sudden warmth, the smell of sweet and sadness had stirred him. You curled up tighter, slightly trembling, shaking from a mix of fear and emotion. Soft blue eyes gazed at you. A few clinks from the chain and you pulled back. Looking at each other, he saw the wet shine in your eyes from crying. His cool hands came up and wiped the remaining tears away.
“S’all right, darlin’.” He said lowly, in a gentle tone that he could muster. In tune with your pain, he understood. “I know it’s overwhelmin’.” He told you. You felt him awkwardly nuzzle your head. The muzzle got in the way of proper contact.
Sadly, you stared into those blue eyes—tenderness resided there. Despite the aching hunger in his guts. Despite the anger that lay in wait in his bones. Despite the overall exhaustion of his body, he pushed it all aside for you. It didn’t take long for him to deduce that, that terrible man of yours was gone. Otherwise, you wouldn’t risk being down here. To be this vulnerable. To be this close to a beast without his watchful glare. Lost in thought a purr slipped out of him. Your warm soft hands petting his shoulder and arm.
It brought you some comfort, so you kept doing it. Moving from his arm to his chest, you wanted something more. More than the violence. More than the constant walking on eggshells. Physical contact. Connection to someone who, though terrifying, felt safer.
You knew he wanted it too. Even when your boyfriend watched you. The silent eye contact, the whispering conversations. You had formed a connection. Believed Remmick’s words. Not caring if they were true or not. What could be worse? Your hand slid across his cold collarbone.
With bound hands he pet your face.
You leaned into it. You couldn’t be bothered to care what happened to you. You would take your chances. You wanted to feel again.
How he wished he could touch you properly. But it was impossible like this. And he wasn’t about to ruin the moment asking for removal of his cuffs. This was a once in a lifetime moment and he was being cautious.
Running your fingers on his skin, with a quivering breath. “Did you mean it?” You asked timidly.
Mean what? He thought.
“That you would take care of me.” It came out of nowhere. Slipping past your tired lips. You could feel the strength still residing in Remmick’s chest.
All the times he mentioned it you might as well take the leap. What was there to lose that you hadn’t already. Except maybe your life. Which you weren’t sure was even yours anymore. Either you died by Marcus’ hand or a monsters. But when the monster is the one to tell you it will take care of you… it didn’t sound bad.
“Course I meant it.” Remmick confessed. “Ya deserve so much better. Ne’er lay a hand on you like he does. Keep ya close. Show you proper love. Won’ let ya get hurt the way you're hurtin’ now.” He said soothingly, fingers tracing down your arm. Conviction in his tone. A hint of possessive anger. It added to your belief that it was the truth he spoke.
A few more tears fell. The cold sting of metal pressed against your neck as Remmick attempted to bury his face into your neck. You tilt your head as he nuzzles there. Whining in frustration at the lack of contact that he desperately wanted. His cuffed hands did their best to cup the side of your face.
The muzzle pressed in again and you rolled your head titling further back to accommodate. He took a deep long inhale. Breathing in your delicious scent. He had grown accustomed to it. That smell, his body taught him to associate it with good things. And you were that good thing. Taking care of him, showing him kindness. Even when you were a prisoner yourself.
“I can make things right.” Remmick purred, eyes closed taking another inhale. His hands found your hip tracing the curve. “Fix all o’ it.” He mumbled. Lost in your intoxicating smell.
That hunger flared in more ways than one. He wanted to claim you. Make you his. Mark you and keep you close. His fangs extended in his mouth. When his eyes snapped open, they had that red glow.
You gasped when he pulled back, the rapid change, and how close you were. Small drops of drool fell against the muzzle bars, with some making it through and landing on your skin.
His body shifts over you. Well, the best he could manage with how hard it was to move with how he was locked up. So, he sat on his knees beside you. All you did was stare at him with parted lips. The intensity of his gaze ghosts over your body. As if gaze alone could burn through your clothes to the wonderful flesh underneath.
His eyes flicked slowly down your body. Your cheeks turned pink. Marcus never looked at you this way. Or at the least not in a long while. It lit your skin on fire, burning you up with passion. Your thighs shift, rubbing together. Then his eyes flick again, nostrils flaring—like a blood hound smelling the wet arousal.
Cheeks turned red. You were embarrassed by being aroused by just a look. So you turned your face away.
Remmick shifts again, chains pulling along with him, some links lay heavy on your stomach and over your pelvis. As he drags them, to move them out of the way, they glide across your clothed folds. It makes you mewl. The chains were heavier than you thought He drags them again and you respond the same. His eyes light up in fascination. The dirty pants he wears grow tight and he bites his lip hiding a groan.
Looks like I ain’t the only one starvin’. Remmick thinks. His hands reach forward and run up and down your stomach.
“No need to hide your face.” He remarks and your head turns back. “Ya don’ need to be ashamed.” He slightly teases, tugging the chain, it makes you squirm. “Told ya I’d take care o’ you. An that means all o’ you.”
You squeezed your thighs as they clasped around the links. A reactive response.
Oh my god! Your mind screams. Why is this… why is this turning me on?
With your thighs clamped, Remmick pulls the chain—from the pressure you create—drags it over your clothed folds making you moan. Soft and quiet. Just faint enough for him to hear.
You abruptly hear the rushing clatter of chains as he pulls them, making them tug in a tight line. Raising up to take a peek and he gently pushes you down to lay flat, his face by your ear.
“Jus’ lay there. Trust me.” There’s a new tone to his voice. Rough, gravely, as he gets ready.
The weight of the metal lays still as he shifts. Anticipation builds as does your curiosity. Then it happens. With the chains taut he drags them upwards. Hard, as they slide. His face was still near yours as he watched your reaction.
The little twitches your face makes as the hard metal graces your aroused clit. Bumping it when your tights press together. Remmick’s body shivers, fangs digging into his lips again to stop himself.
This was turning him on just as much as you. You were making his body feel things it hadn’t in so long. It kills him how he can’t just take you properly. To feel you. So, he carefully runs the chain back and forth, drawing little puffy moans from you.
“Ya think that feels good?” Remmick questions.
You nod.
“I can make it feel so much better.” His voice drops low to an almost whisper. “Can make ya scream into the night. Bring ya pleasure that MAN ne’er could.” A chain link bumps your clit, and you hum, hips slightly rising to meet it.
You nod again. The sensation makes your body tingle and your head fuzzy. Then it stops. And your head snaps toward him.
He gives you a soft smile. There was definitely a want behind your eyes. Maintaining eye contact, the chain moved slowly again. Cruelly slow. Then stopped.
“I’ll give ya more, don’ worry, darlin’. Jus’ need ya to help me out a little first.” Another long pull of the chain.
You bite your lip. “Ho-how?” Asking so simply that it never crossed your mind what he’s up to.
Remmick leans in unbearably close this time. Hands teasingly pet your side. “Wanna touch you.” Hands float over your stomach, then lower, until they rest where you ache. A couple fingers teased, feeling the damp spot. He groans lowly. “Yer aching for a real man to show ya love.” He continues, deft fingers pressing and circling the raised nub.
Body, arching you whine loudly.
A growl hangs in his throat. Showing you a hint of attention and you were like this. Deprived and treated roughly, abused, turned the softest touches into want. He groans, cock straining in his pants as you whisper another moan. You were lucky he was restrained. Remmick closed his eyes, fingers pressing more firmly.
“Ahhh…” You whined, teary eyed gripping his cuffs stopping his hands.
Red eyes fly open, a dumbfounded look on his face. Why would you stop? As he went to question, you rolled on top of him.
Pressing him back first into the mattress. You straddle his lower abdomen. The way you sit pinned his cuffed hands between your thighs. His legs fall straight, chain pulling with a snap and both of you groan. Metal sharply pressing into your folds and against his pulsing erection.
His hissed through clenched fangs.
His fingers, the pressure of the metal, and the outline of his cock was all too much. Your thighs spread wider letting you sink down more. You moaned. He hissed again.
“Sw-sweetheart…” Remmick tried as you began grinding your hips. “Fu-fuck.” He growls deeply, almost inhuman. His hands jerked trying to yank them free. They didn’t go far, only managing to pull the chain again and his head was thrown back into the mattress. “Unnhgh!” His legs wriggle, your dampened pants leak onto his with how wet you had become. “Fuck! Yer soaked.”
Another attempt and his cuffed hands wrenched free, the action causing you to buck and grind down hard.
Biting on your lip you start humping him. Chains crashing as you move on them. His hips meet yours in earnest. You bounce and grind on him. The two of you are slowly coming undone.
Remmick’s body tenses, arms pulling, which only made it worse. A deadly seductive cycle. Claws extended from the tips of his fingers the closer he got.
You whimpered.
He lets out an animalistic growl. Hands flexing desperately wanting to touch you but couldn’t.
You came first. Chain pressing hard against your pants, your release flooded and soaked through the fabric.
His hips rose to yours when you started slowing down. Chest arching, head looking towards the ceiling he pathetically came. Little spurts of his seed dirtying his already stained pants.
Stilling your hips, hands pressed lightly into his stomach, you were panting softly. You couldn’t help but look down on him. Tension slowly left his muscles as he relaxed beneath you. Cuffed hands resting against his chest, even with him just cuming his cock was still hard. You gently rub at his lean stomach, some of his tattered tank had risen revealing the pale skin.
You swore he purred just like a cat. Skin still cold, while yours was burning. His claws intrigued you. Grasping the cuffs you lift his hands. His gaze locking, breath hitching.
“Careful with those darlin’.” He warned. Last thing he needed was for you to hurt yourself. Fear if you accidentally spilled your blood, he would go feral.
You nodded while inspecting them. Razor sharp tips protruding from the ends of his fingers. They looked as if they grew right out of the fingertips. You ran a thumb over the nail itself.
Remmick observed you closely. You were an odd one. Silently he snuck in a deep breath smelling hints of fear, sweat, your fresh release, and the sweat warm blood pumping fast from your excitement. Your fear was still there. Reserved. How easy his claws or fangs could tear into you. You had feared him for so long that you didn’t realize how beautiful he could be.
What you did next shocked him. You kissed his hands, claws included. He had to swallow hard. It would have been so easy for him to have killed you tonight.
Then the walls of emotions came down. Tears brimmed, then spilled. Humiliated at your life choices. The choice of man you thought was decent—who turned out to be a monster. The monster held captive, that was more man… it was too much.
You never made the right decisions. And here you were making another poor one. Tears turned into full crying. How could you be this stupid? When your boyfriend comes back, he will most surely know what you did. You were full on sobbing now, clutching his hands like a lifeline.
Remmick’s brows furrowed and he sat up. “Shhh…. Sweatheart. Whate’er it is yer thinkin’ it ain’t that bad.”
“He’ll…” You sobbed. “He’ll kill me for this.” You muttered sadly.
“Nah, he won’t.”
You hiccupped and leaned into him. His knees bent to make it more comfortable as you sat in his lap.
“Won’ let that happen.” Remmick claimed.
Sniffling, tears painting your cheeks.
“Shhhh, now. I got ya.” He whispers. The words seemed to help.
You pressed more into him. Weirdly finding comfort in this creature… no this man.
“No use spillin’ tears o’er nothin’. Ain’t trivial. Let me take it all away. Make ya forget.” Then his voice dipped low. “Let me hold ya. Let me care for ya. Won’ have to worry ‘bout a thin’.” There was a hint of seduction to his words and he rolled his hips.
Remmick was tired of waiting. Tired of aching, of hunger. Tired of playing this game.
You whined breathlessly as he continued. Making sure to use whatever he could—partly to make you feel better—but more so to get what he wanted. Freedom. Remmick gently pushed you back, cupping your chin.
“I a’ready promised, but… I can’ help if I’m like this.” A clawed thumb runs over your chin. “Ya gotta help.” It sounded so sweet and innocent. He held your gaze, pleading—puppy like—despite the blazing red irises.
“How?” You responded.
Just what he wanted to hear. The door was open, now he just needed to give you a little push.
A grin crosses his face, fangs finally on full display. The sharp shark like teeth should be terrifying. Maybe you felt they weren’t since they were locked away behind a cage. He pets your chin again as he speaks. “So called boyfriend o’ yers. Should have a key or the like round here.” He wasn’t too sure.
Once he was locked in—a condition he woke up to—he never saw a key or anything. Remmick half suspects the key was non-existent. Or worse kept on said boyfriend. Who unfortunately was not present.
“If… if I do this,” you spoke timidly. That poor brain of yours doing overtime as you thought of the repercussions. “You won’t hurt me, right?”
Remmick chuckled to himself and shook his head. “I would have done so already if I wanted.” He states coldly.
Again another truth, you concluded, from him or what appeared to be. Slowly you rose from his lap. At first, he was hesitant to let you. If you got spooked…. He didn’t want to think about it. Once you were standing and out of the way, you began to search the basement. Remmick also got to his feet. Rolling his shoulders as the weight of the chains fell.
You searched everywhere. In boxes, little nooks, anything that was available down here. But nothing was to be found.
He encouraged you to keep going. To search the rest of the house. He wasn’t about to give up so easily.
So, you retreated up the stairs continuing. You ransacked the house. Without actually tearing things up. No room was off limits. But every search yielded nothing.
The last room was the bedroom. All the empty searches made your heart sink. There would be no way to free him. In desperation you searched thoroughly. Coming to the nightstand, on Marcus’ side, you opened the drawer. Odds and ends are scattered inside. Again nothing.
On the verge of tears, you put your hand in the drawer all the way to the back. Fingers feeling blindly. They touched something cold. Metallic. Getting a decent grip you pulled a small key ring out.
Down below Remmick’s sharp ears heard your frantic movements. If there was a god or high being now would be the time for divine intervention. He heard your grunts, the stomping of feet moving from room to room. If this didn’t work, he’d be stuck here forever.
Suddenly the noises above stopped. He looked at the ceiling. Holding a breath as he listened. A few seconds later you were on the move again. Trajectory of sounds leading you back.
Out of breath you proudly held up the brass key ring. Only a couple of small keys were attached.
Salivating his freedom, he refrained from jumping you as you got closer. Fiddling with the keys you first undid the shackles around his ankles. The latch clicked open.
He watched intensely. The hunger pit inside him grows with every passing second.
You pulled the metal away frowning deeply at the red raw irritated skin.
“Don’ worry. I’ll heal.” You heard him say above you. There was a darkness to his voice that never registered. Solely focused you stood up; his wrists extended already waiting for you. Had you even taken a small glance you would have seen the ferocity in his stare. A fresh wave of drool, red eyes burning in anticipation.
Click.
The cuffs were unlocked. Time moves in slow motion for you. The cuffs fell from his raw wrists, falling to the floor. The weight of the chain pulling them down with a loud crash.
Your field of view changed in an instant. You were swept off your feet, that was clear. You landed harsher than he wanted, back first into the mattress. Arms pinned above you with your elbows bent. You squeaked in shock, gasping in surprise. Fear returned as he hovered on all fours above you. All you saw were his red eyes.
Drool dripped through the cage onto your face as he leaned closer. A predatory hum reverberated straight from his chest. Sniffing you like an animal. It was his turn to straddle your hips. Trapping you with his weight. Removing his hands slowly from your wrists you didn’t dare move as his claw, in a line, cut the fabric of your shirt. Patience thrown to the wind, he shreds your clothes. All of them. Fabric flew like confetti, raining through the air. Little cuts appeared on your skin. Hunger consumed him.
No time to think. To react. His pants were thrown off in a hurry. Large cock, leaking, veiny, and free. The vein pulsed on the side of his shaft. He was huge. Twice the size of your boyfriend.
You eyed it. Stiff and upright.
“Gonna feel so warm.” You barely heard him before he was lining up.
“Wait…” Breath catching in your throat. He was way too big.
The enlarged head rubbed against your clit.
“Ohhh~…” You groaned.
His clawed fingers inserted into your wet pussy, sharp edges nicking your walls as they slowly began fucking you.
“Jus’ relax.” Remmick purred. As much as he’d like to bury himself in you, you required further preparation. To take him and his size. The warm and slick walls convulsed around his fingers. It had him leaking. He pushed your thighs open more, rubbing one.
While he pumped his fingers he stretched you. Curling and scissoring them leaving your walls fluttering. The occasional snag of his claw started to hurt less. Then he curled them, squishing your g-pot just right. Fluids poured out of your pussy coating his hand. Grin widening he did it again.
“Think yer ready for me.” Mumbling he pulled his fingers out. Using his slicked hand, he guided his cock to your entrance. The bulbous head stretched you wide open. You whined as more of his cock pushed in. You were so tight it was hard for him to not cum right away. With a powerful thrust he breached you completely. Tip pressing against your cervix. His cock visible in your stomach. He pressed down and you moaned loudly.
Gummy walls flutter and clench around him as he settles inside. Remmick groans, leaning his body forward forcing his way deeper. Hips put pressure on your thighs opening them up as his weight keeps them spread. Rocking his hips, it felt right. The girth filled you up. Pressing down on your belly so he could feel himself there. Thrusting slowly making you feel all of him.
Slick slaps of his hips as he thrust, pumping faster now. Moans got louder, your body melting.
“You don’ know how long I been waitin’ to have ya.” Remmick whispers, leaning his body towards you. Arms on either side of your head. He watched your face. Half-lidded, eyes already glassy. His thrust takes a turn, unable to hold back. With an exhale he let loose. Claws digging into your sides, scraping down to your hips.
You cried in pain, fresh cuts lined your skin, blood pebbling as he gripped your hips hard. Slamming his cock into you, he pulled you toward him. The crash made you yelp. The rhythm was that of animal brutality. Staking his claim finally. Hips and balls clashed repeatedly.
You whimpered as tears filled your eyes. He promised not to hurt you and here he was. The pain didn’t last too long as it started to become pleasurable. That was until his claws dug in further, hooking in deep. You took it as well as you could. Feeling his heavy cock punch your womb, stretch your insides. Reshaping you to make him fit.
Remmick watched your stretched folds take all of him. A heavy growl filled the air as his shaft appeared and disappeared. Swallowed whole by your body. Lifting your hips up, changing the angle, folding you in half. Cock sinking deeper. He groaned.
You gasped; it was harder to breathe but damn did it feel good. Your boyfriend never did this. Never got this deep, or made you feel this full. You heard another growl. Remmick’s thrust impossibly fast, slamming down into you. You came, squirting like a fountain. And with the new angle it fell down your hips like a waterfall—from your stomach to your chest.
He whines; the vice grip tightness of your walls squeezed him forcing him to cum instantly. Thick ropes fill your insides. Pumping his hips he milked himself until he was empty. With a satisfied groan he lowered your hips. Semi-bloody claws swiped up some of your blood. Greedily, and with no restraint, he jammed fingers through the bars of the muzzle and licked what little blood was there. He did this several times, lost in the act, desperately licking what he could. Crying how he missed the taste.
Beneath him, in a sex haze—one you were slowly coming out of. You saw him licking his claws. It was obscene how needy he was for it. Whimpering pathetically, it weakened your heart weirdly enough.
Still buried inside, he pitifully sniffed his claws, the metallic tang causing a high. He craved more. What little he got was heavenly. Taking one last deep sniff his stare turned back to you. You had his full attention. Hungry.
“Need to taste more o’ ya.” Remmick grumbled roughly.
The sound of his voice caused you to shiver. His eyes scanned near the mattress, to your hands. Looking for the keys. When he looked at you again you were half fading, tiredly blinking. You mewled as his cool hands pet your skin.
“Darlin’,” he muttered. It sounded distant.
You hummed an acknowledgement.
“Where are the keys?” He asked as sweet as his hunger would allow. Hands glide up your thighs.
Lazily you turn your head looking around. Flexing your hand where they were last. Lifting your head you eventually spot them on the floor across the room. They must have flown when he picked you up.
He followed your gaze, holding back an angry growl. Which was to himself for being careless. Shifting he pulled out. A squelch and a pop followed.
Your legs fell open and you whined.
On his hands and knees, he crawled towards the keys. Remmick’s progress was halted when the chain connected to his collar clinked tight. He reached out with his fingers; the key ring was only inches away. If he could just…
You heard him mutter in agitation, but with your sore body and exhaustion you couldn’t even raise your head to look. All you did see was the glint of the dull metal holding him back. And of course, his pale naked form, from the waist down. You caught yourself hazily staring at his ass. His large, now flaccid cock, swinging freely.
Still trying to reach the key ring, Remmick did something unconventional. Concentrating he extended his claws well past the point you saw earlier. Extra length and new knuckles snapped into place. It was just what he needed. Curving the tip, he managed to scoop the key ring up and drag it over. Fingers popped back into place as he crawled victoriously back over. Sitting at the edge of the mattress he tried to free himself. However, the lock was stubborn, and he couldn’t see what he was doing. At some point he sighed giving up, hands in his lap, turning the keys over between his fingers.
You had drifted back into a light sleep.
He lets you sleep. He waited this long and he could wait a little longer. A softness returned to him. You truly were a beautiful woman who deserved the world. One he was one step closer to giving you. Just not in the way you were prepared for. So, he lets you rest.
Unsure how long you slept since the basement had no windows. When you woke up you figured it was long enough for Remmick—who at some point had ripped free of his shirt—was laying naked next to you. The crude stained blanket draped over you. Unlike him you were bound to get cold down here.
Rolling onto your side you faced him. He was resting on the floor next to you letting you have the full mattress. With a quiet groan you sat up. Your whole body ached.
The blanket slid off revealing all the scratch marks. They were healing, but they were a small dangerous reminder. You pulled the blanket the rest of the way off. You felt gross. Not from the fact that you slept with a man that wasn’t your boyfriend, but from the dry sticky feeling between your legs. Old slick mixed with his dry cum. Your eyes went wide. He came inside you. Not that was a bad thing, but how would you explain that if you got pregnant. Could you even get pregnant from a vampire? You ponder. But at the same time the thought of having a baby in general stirred something.
Your hand ran over your stomach, picturing it swollen, but also you swore you felt the phantom bulge of Remmick’s cock there. You shift uncomfortably, stilling the new pulse in your veins, turning you from these thoughts.
Your clit fluttered thinking of how he touched you. How he spread you wide. The desperate raw need behind those hungry eyes. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself. You had to admit to yourself he was far better than Marcus ever was. Minus the parts where claws cut you.
Swallowing a groan that unfortunately rose in your throat, you pressed your legs together. You could already feel a new wave of wetness. You hadn’t gotten this excited in a long time. Thanks to the constant fear.
Remmick was watching you in silence. He could smell the renewed need dripping between your thighs.
You rubbed your face, unable to sit still. A bath, you thought, distracting your thoughts before they went too far. When you looked over at him you reflectively gasped. How long had he been awake? Cheeks flushed pink immediately.
“Still shy after yesterday.” Remmick chuckled sitting up, moving closer to you onto the mattress.
“More embarrassed.” You heard yourself explain softly.
“No need to be. Ya wanted it as much as I did.” He brushes a few loose hairs away from your face. “An I can smell ya want more.” He teased.
“I shouldn’t.”
“If you’re worried ‘bout that bastard, don’. Who cares what he thinks. Ya have wants an needs. Desires.” Remmick’s voice dropped low, fingers tracing your arm. “An sweetheart, he wasn’ providin’ ya with any o’ that. That’s why ya have me now.”
Your legs squeezed together again.
“So put all that behind ya, yeah.” He purred hand resting on your thigh, slowly inching it towards your wet core.
Your eyes shift from his hand to his face.
He twirled strands of bushy hairs, then slid a few fingers down over your clit, circling the bundle of nerves.
A high-pitched moan fell from your lips.
“Jus focus on the pleasure. On the sweet sensation creepin’ up your spine. I know ya want me buried inside ya again. Saw it on your face.”
You moaned again when his fingers traveled further then gradually slipped them inside.
“Want to carry my seed? Drenched and full.” His fingers pump slowly, seeming to grow longer as he did. His other hand came up your spine to the back of your neck, holding it stable when your head tipped back.
“Yeah, jus’ like that.”
Your breath grows heavy; his fingers elongated inside you. Tips of his inhuman claws were able to touch every perfect spot. And when they curled you cried out.
“All soaked. Drippin’ with want.” Remmick purred. Fingers thrusting, using your slick to ease them in and out. Making you squirm and leak more. The pad of his thumb found your clit and your whole body arched.
You yelled out so beautifully. Limbs soon felt like jelly. The more he pumped the more you fell. Arching again you could feel the tightening muscles in your gut. Breath coming out in short pants. He held you through it. That sweet orgasm hit and your vision burst full of stars, eyes rolling into your head. Little whimpers whisper off your tongue. You cum around his unnaturally long fingers, drenching the stained mattress and he pushes you through it. Body jerking and spasming. With a shaky hand you gently grab his wrist. The tips of his newly formed claws scratched at your womb, and you cried in pleasure.
Too deep. Your mind swirled. Too wrong, but right.
Your grip tightened on his wrist and he eventually stopped.
Claws retracted. Remmick shifts into a seated position. You pant lightly, those red eyes of his glowing brightly, hunger and some tenderness luring within them. His cock, as you take notice, was already rigid and throbbing. Veins pulsing. He uses your cum, still on his fingers to lube his cock. His free hand, with those elongated claws—that frighten you—beckon you to him.
“C’me here, darlin’.” Voice low, a lazy fanged smile flashes beneath the metal muzzle.
And you do. You climb into his lap, a willing action. Pussy vibrating with excitement as you straddle him. His cool thighs brush your burning skin as you hover over his erect shaft. Long claws envelope your hips as he guides you. As you lower, the broad head presses through your wet folds, parting them. It’s easier this time, but it’s still a tight fit.
As his cock stretches, he groans. The sound vibrating from his chest. You sink all the way until your ass rests flush in his lap.
“Mmm, feels so good. So warm.” Remmick bucks his hips in shallow thrust that have you whimpering. His long claws—that wrap around your supple flesh—dig in keeping you steady when he moves. Slow and deep. “Takin’ me so well.” He mutters. A compliment since this was your second time taking his large cock.
You join in, bouncing in his lap, as his shaft stretches and slides in and out. There’s already a wet slap of skin-on-skin sound echoing off the walls. As you bounce, Remmick leans forward, the cage pressing against your collarbone.
With a deep inhale and powerful thrust, he coos picking up the key ring into your field of vision. “Need ya to do me one last favor darlin’.” He makes sure you're focused enough between thrust. “Unlock this muzzle, yeah. Free me. So I can taste ya proper, while I fuck ya senseless.” His voice darkens, dipping low. “Imagine. My tongue in places, lapping ya up like a god send. Bitin’ on that soft skin, kissin’ ya while I’m buried inside like this.”
For a fraction you swear his cock swells thicker when he thrusts hard. The head nudging your womb. White blurs the edge of your vision. His claws on your hip slide up your side as the key dangles before your face.
“Please,” his plea is soft, and he slows his hips leaving you wanting. “Go on.” He can see the small hesitation, so he gave a few hard fast thrusts. Your ass slams down onto his hips. “Let me fulfill my promise. I want to kiss ya, bite ya. Gently o’ course.” He laughs. “Let me have all of you without this god forsaken cage.”
Your hand shakily reached out, and he dropped the key ring into your awaiting hand.
Excitement fills him, both clawed hands find your hips again. His thrust becomes more urgent.
“That’s right,” he leans his head forward.
Reaching around, he slows down making the task at hand easier. You fumble with the lock. His cock pulses along your walls as he maintains a slow rhythm letting you focus despite the ache in your core.
Gripping the key with trembling hands, you continue to fumble with the lock. It eventually gives way. Clicking open as you remove it. The pressure from the muzzle lightened as you worked it free.
Claws tighten, digging into your hips, he held his breath. Breathing shallow in anticipation. The cellar slides off his pale neck, leaving behind a red ring on the skin. Then came the muzzle. You gently pulled it away from his face revealing the full-face underneath.
It was handsome, light stubble, mouth parted with soft lips—full of fangs that you saw more clearly now.
The metal cage clacks to the floor.
He soaks in your face properly, a low growl rumbling in his throat. All control that was left shattered. With a sharp exhale his whole body surged. Bouncing you hard and fast in his lap. Brutal thrusts. Slamming his massive cock deep into your pussy. The force jolts you upwards and gravity brings you back down.
Your walls clamp around his shaft.
Freed now he takes a true inhale of the air. Your scent, your arousal, your sweat mingling together, floods his nostrils. Hitting him like a drug. Stronger than anything he smelled prior. Remmick salivates, drool gathering in pools at his lips before falling down his chin. A flash of fangs and raw hunger in his eyes makes you quiver.
Lunging forward, tongue flicking out, it connects with your chest. Tracing along your collar bone, then down the swell of your breasts. Tongue finds your perked nipples lapping in circles around the nub before suckling on it. Fangs nick the plump flesh as he greedily bites, making you bleed.
You arch with a loud cry.
Licking away the blood his tongue trails upwards. Sketching the vein in your neck. Claws dig and pierce the skin, anchoring you in place. His face dives into your neck. He groans deeply. Cock twitching wildly inside you.
Your pulse jumps and he feels it vibrate against his skin. Overwhelming. Remmick’s hips stutter, he’s already on the edge. Face pressed deep into your neck he fights off cumming too soon.
Fangs tickle the skin at your throat; you can feel the slimy wet drool on your skin. The tips lightly pierce the tender flesh, sharp pricks that bring blood to the surface. Slowly his tongue scoops the beads up. An electric surge jolts straight through his cock. He must close his eyes for a moment as a feral snarl wracks out. Instantly fangs dive in for real. His jaw latches on in a deep locking bite. Blood floods from the wound pouring into his mouth.
The pain from the bite is both searing and euphoric. You cry out, tears welling in your eyes. He’s holding on so tightly you can’t move. Bliss washes over you. There must be something akin to the feeling of ecstasy as he drinks from you.
Your folds flutter and convulse around him.
Remmick may be a starving monster, but he doesn’t drain you. Though his instincts tell him too. He’s been without blood for… honestly, he has lost track. He takes greedy swallows. Big gulps of your warm blood and it runs down his gullet. Pulling back, bright red blood on his lips and chin, his thrust turned erratic. Frenzied bucks slam into you. Cock stretching you impossibly more.
The muscles lock in his arms and suddenly he surges, supernatural strength flowing, you find yourself splayed on your back pinned under him.
He hooks your ankles around his waist, then his long claws slide under your hips securing you in place. Relentless thrust has his cock burying all the way to the hilt. As he growls, a mix of blood and drool falls down your body. Painting your skin in red splotches. His body is flush to yours, face back at your neck. He moans loudly into your ear.
Heavy hips grind, rocking both of you. His cock pushes deeper through your soaked core. His climax rushes, cock swelling further. Fangs dig back into the wound sucking up more blood. He latches on sucking, drinking his fill.
The loss of blood makes you lightheaded. A dizzying haze coats your eyes. You hear your heartbeat within your ears. Body growing weaker.
He can feel his own cock through your skin, pressing up against your abdomen. It’s truly obscene. A ridge that moves just under the skin is visible with each thrust. Low growls reverberate through both of you. Your moans fuel his drive as he savors the way your body molds to him.
Your hands weakly grip his shoulders, nails doing little to dig into his hard cold skin. Another moan spills from your lips.
“Too much…” You babble through the pleasure filled haze you were in. Your folds shiver and squeeze, desperately sucking in his cock.
“You can take it.” He growls slamming powerful thrust battering your body. The flared head of his cock punched your womb, demanding entrance as he tried to claim you. The fresh blood in his veins sharpened his senses, filled him with strength, erasing human restraint. The vampiric feralness makes his hips snap. An intense need to fill you, to breed you, to mark you.
Ecstasy takes over your mind. You moan and mumble.
The stretch from his cock burns.
“Rem-Remmick.”
The syllables ignite his passion. He cums with a wild jerk. Seed flooding straight to your womb. A huge surge of thick spurts of cum fills every space. That thick cock plugs your hole, sealing the entrance. With no escape the sheer amount pools in your belly making it bloat. The fullness causes another orgasm. Walls spasm and clench down. Pulsing, milking his cock for more. You cum just as hard, release gushing around his buried shaft as you both ride the aftershocks.
His cock softens as his hips still roll lazily, savoring the wet warm insides. Both ride the final jerks of your orgasms before he finally stills. Both of you are breathing heavily. Beneath him you moan weakly, body still convulsing, stuffed full.
“Remmick.” You whisper his name humming.
Remmick withdraws with care. Sliding out slowly, thick shaft dragging along your walls then pulls free with a wet squelch. A powerful clawed hand presses against the swell of your stomach. Rubbing gently, making you exhale contently. The slight pressure has his cum oozing from the open hole. Spilling out falling down your thighs. He watches the lewd scene, memorized, red eyes locked onto your twitching hole. Still trying to clench around nothing, only causing more cum to squeeze out.
You mumble nonsense, mind overwhelmed, floating in a fog.
The burning desire Remmick had reignited. Cock not staying soft for long. Springing rigid back to life. He leans in, face right above yours. His lips meet your kissing gently. You reciprocate tiredly meeting his cold lips with a warm fervor.
“Sweetheart, ya still with me?” He asked quietly.
You nod softly.
“Gonna keep the rest of my promise now. Gonna fill ya right proper.” He inhaled right at your neck which tilts back. “I crave all of ya. E’ery untouched space. Let me fill ya there. Gonna claim ya.”
You didn’t know what he meant. Strong arms roll you over effortlessly. Rolling you onto your stomach. You groan, muscles protesting. Sore, small cuts sting your skin. Pussy still leaking and pulsing.
Long claws trace down your spine petting gently. The tips rake down your back and sides creating fresh small cuts that bled instantly. Remmick immediately, tongue lapping at the blood eagerly. Growling in approval.
Pushing your leg up into a bent position, exposing you fully. You exhale shakily anxiety rising.
Gathering your slick and his cum he smears it generously over your unused asshole. He worked you open slowly. Turning pain into pleasure until you were ready. The red bulbous head breaches your tight virgin hole, and you cry. The stretch burns, tearing you open as he pushes himself in until he’s seated all the way.
Tears fall from your eyes; the stretch is painful. Remmick hisses how tight you wre as he pistons his hips opening you up. It takes some time for the pain to subside and pleasure to set in. Remmick helps by kissing tenderly down your spine. Taking little nips as he does. Claws are constantly on you. Dragging, making cuts that he sips from.
Soon you’re gone. Thrusts are hard and heavy. You cry and moan gripping tiredly to the mattress. He does his best to hush you, but it never fully helps. It does ease the pain. By the time he’s cumming again you’re beyond coherent. Moaning and a hot mess, his hot seed fills every hole. Once again, it has no place to go and your belly swells further. Partly fading in and out from exhaustion you babble nothing. And when he pulls out you cry dry tears. He pets and licks your skin. And then he rolls you back over and places you as comfortably as possible. Covering you up and letting you rest.
The next few days were on repeat. You never left the basement. Fucked and bitten every few hours, not that you minded. Your belly was so swollen you looked pregnant, mind in a sex filled fog. Days bled together. Hours and time of day became irrelevant.
Laid out, resting with slow heavy breaths, naked, and used. Right now, you were alone. Remmick was probably exploring the house above you. You weren’t sure. Honestly you didn’t care. He did come back to check on you a few times. Your body was littered with soft healing and fresh scratch marks, with the now added bite marks. He had taken to feeding on you. You didn’t mind that either.
Remmick left you to go upstairs, leaving you laid gaped wide open, leaking, and covered in blood. It sparked something inside him to see the red splatter, decorating you. Everything was quiet. Peaceful. You wish it would stay like this. But all good things come to an end.
The wood on the stairs creaked. Light thuds trekking down to the abyss. Normally the steps would be welcome. But not this pair. Losing track of time was easy when there was no brain function available to keep up with it.
Macus reached the bottom of the steps and stopped dead in his tracks. He saw you. Gaped, naked, and on full display. Anger in his eyes, which soon faded to cold dread.
The vampire, where?
The chains lay abandoned on the floor. Collar and muzzle tossed to the wind.
Your boyfriend scanned the basement. As if Remmick would magically be where he had left him. That this was all a dream.
“Stupid bitch.” He whispered under his breath, looking at you. Bloated and full of some other man's cum. Marcus’ lip curled in disgust. He’ll deal with you later. For now, the task of survival was at hand. Recapturing or killing the vampire was a priority. A dangerous game. He slipped out of the basement putting the silver knuckles back on. The only real weapon he had to fight back. Retreating the way he came, maybe he got lucky and Remmick fled into the night. Escaping. However, seeing the position and the way you were used the information told his gut otherwise.
He would be lying to himself if he didn’t feel a sense of fear. Tight fist around the weapon as he stalked through the house. Weapon at the ready. The house was deathly quiet. Controlling his breathing, he tips toed around. Lights were off making it difficult to see. He couldn’t risk turning them on and giving his position away.
That’s where Remmick had the advantage. Vampiric powers. Super hearing—every thud of Marcus’ cold heart. Super smell—picked up on his thick egotistical vile scent. Eyes that could see in the dark. Primed and ready for the man of the hour to come home. A home that he had taken to familiarize himself with. Hours spent intimately every nook and cranny.
When Marcus walked past him in the hall Remmick resists the urge to attack. He wanted to savor this. Glowing red eyes tracking the slow scared steps. Good. He should be afraid. Let him feel the weight.
Holding a breath to listen, the eerie silence scattered his nerves. Checking just about every room, there was no trace or sign. Not that was a relief. The not knowing ate at him. Standing in the doorway of the master bedroom staring into the darkness, thinking. Formulating a plan that would never get a chance to be executed.
Behind your boyfriend stood Remmick. Silent as the grave. Eyes burning hot coals of suppressed anger bore into the back of his head. As Marcus turned around, a split second of processing before everything became a blur. A bloodied clawed hand, faster than a blink, shouted out, grasping Marcus by the face to stifle a yell. Eyes wide, he was falling backwards to the floor with a loud thud. Wind knocked out of him as he gasped for a breath.
Two red dots moving so fast they caused an after image now hovered over him before the white of the ceiling came into view. Claws dug into Marcus’ shirt, and he was thrown upwards from the floor with such speed he crashed face first into the stucco. Gravity brought him slamming back down to the floor with a pained groan.
Limbs moving in a daze, the weight of someone on top of him had him reflectively throw a blind punch. A powerful hand caught his arm; unnaturally long claws wrapped around it.
A sickening snap and a scream rose from your boyfriend’s throat.
Quickly it was quieted by a palm over his mouth. Remmick had snapped his wrist backwards breaking the bones with a crushing grip rendering it useless.
Marcus flailed and kicked his legs frantically.
The red glow, in the dark, of the vampire’s eyes came closer as Remmick shhh’s him with a fanged grin.
Your boyfriend growled behind the hand.
With a wicked widening grin Remmick straddled the man under him. Pinning his body down. The man thrashed, banging on Remmick’s arm with his good fist. Another snap and agony filled his arm. Tears formed in his eyes. His other wrist had just been broken, leaving him incapable of fighting back. A muffled cry of pain hit with a hot breath against Remmick’s hand.
Arms limp against the floor, body pinned, it finally began to sink in. His fanged grin was as wide as possible. Staring at his prey, when it finally understood the hopeless feeling. He let your boyfriend absorb it all. The horror. The dread. The mental image.
Remmick pale, covered in old blood, naked, sitting on him. The aroma of fear finally became a reality. And he inhaled it like fine wine.
“You're finally seein’ what it’s like when ya have no control.” Remmick hisses coldly, grin turning into a snarl. “To be at the mercy o’ someone. Feelin’ pain, feelin’ hopeless. Feelin’ fear in your gut.” He growled harshly. “All them things ya inflict on others now comin’ tenfold.
His palm and claws wrapped tightly, squishing your boyfriend’s jaw with pressure that threatened to crack bone. “Could have done this in a different way all that time ago. It’s too late now for that. Imma make sure ya fuckin’ pay for it. I’m goin’ to kill ya, that much is certain. But you’re gonna suffer ‘fore ya die. Jus’ as ya made me suffer.”
Marcus wriggled angrily underneath him. Hand’s suppressing words.
“An when I’m done with the two o’ you, you’ll be discarded like the trash humans are.” In a blink his fangs sunk into his shoulder and neck. Tearing at the flesh like a lion ripping into a fresh kill.
A muffled wail escaped Marcus’ mouth.
Remmick made it as painful as possible by ripping a chunk out. Lifting his head up, he spat the piece of flesh out before diving back into the squirting fountain of blood.
Your boyfriend’s head swam and he gurgled on his own blood. Vision getting cloudy, the pain and rapid blood loss was too great his mind couldn’t keep up to what was happening to the body.
Pulling back, Remmick made a face of disgust. “Your blood…. Taste jus’ as vile as the meat sack it came from.” He spat with disdain then dove back in for more. Coated in fresh blood, face to chest, even on his claws, he drank like a starving animal. Blood tasted the same. Sometimes it was sour—if a person was sick. He drank it all. Draining his man was pure enjoyment. Pay back for the months of torture. He drank until every las drop was gone and the man went cold and still. Only then did Remmick sit up.
Face stuck in agony when he died. Remmick’s lip twitched with rage.
“In all my years on this god forsaken earth, humans still ne’er change. Vile in all aspects.” He gathered saliva and spat right into Marcus’ dead face. “Yet, I’m the monster.” Remmick said to himself, rising to his feet. “Fuckin’ waste of space.”
Claws wrapped around the corpse’s ankle as he began to drag the body. Minimal effort, at full strength again, he tugged the corpse down the hall. A trail of blood staining the carpet.
Back in the basement, door kicked open, he proceeded down. Body parts thudding grotesquely hit each step.
The noise stirred your hazy attention, but it made no difference. A foggy haze lays over your eyes. No recognition lay behind them.
Marcus’ head squelched as his body was dragged the final way to the floor.
“Look who jus’ got home.” Remmick laughed darkly, tossing the corpse like a rag doll further into the room. Then he sauntered towards you. An evil look festered in his eyes. “An how we feelin’ darlin’?” He asked, a pause, then laughed crouching down next to you.
“Oh, that’s right. How soon I forget. Your feelin’ jus’ fine ain’t ya. Not a thought behind them eyes.” Remmick tilts his head to the side, eyes tracing over you. “To far gone to e’en realize that I know e’erythin’. Your wants, needs, desires, memories.” He rambled into the air, a level of unhinged derangement stirring in his voice.
“That piece o’ shit had one thin’ right. You are…. Well… we're a dumb bitch. Fucked so good an so hard you didn’ e’er realize that ya died. Sucked ya dry a night or so ago.” He snorts. “Turned ya for the fun o’ it. Jus’ so I could watch the chaos after. An use ua to spy for me when he came back.”
Remmick shrugged non-chalantly.
You leaned towards your creator, and he pet your face with the back of his bloody hand. He never truly cared. It was all a long game. Tugging at your heartstrings, laying on the charm. Adapting to what was needed to survive. For you it was easy. Give you hope. Put on a sad face. Build up this pathetic image of himself. To break you down enough so you would set him free.
It worked so well on you. Your boyfriend, however, saw through it the first time they met. One monster to another. That shared energy had been his downfall. It was pity you never realized—even though your boyfriend was an abusive asshole—that he was trying to protect you in the end.
Oh, well. You and Marcus would be forgotten memories soon. So, it wouldn’t matter. The two of you were made for each other. Sharing death seemed an appropriate outcome.
Bones crunched back into place as your boyfriend’s body healed with newfound life. Turned into a vampire himself. Slowly rising to his feet, with Remmick doing the same, mimicking one another.
Remmick hated that he even came back. Sometimes he wished that people would just die after he feasted. Face scrunching in anger, his new thrall stood at the ready. He already had his fill and had enough being in your presence. Remmick was over it. A guttural growl rumbled in his chest. What to do with the two of you? Then with poetic justice a mental image formed. And through the new hivemind bond his will would be acted out. Leaning down over you he whispered a goodbye.
“Well sweetheart. It’s been fun. Thank ya for your kindness. It really was appreciated.” He pats your face. “But, I’m leavin’ Had jus’ ‘bout all I can take of people for awhile. Well, people in general. Maybe in another life you’ll choose better company.”
And with that he rose to his feet, he paused to clean up and steal some clothes before disappearing into the night.
When the sun rose, his will played out.
Marcus walked over and picked you up. Zombie-like movements, following a pre-set path. Straight upstairs towards the front door. Beams of sunlight signed both of you from uncovered windows. Taking you to the living room, curtains spread wide open in wait, basking the perfect spot in the center. Marcus walked into the direct sunlight. Within seconds the two of you were on fire. Burning in pain until you became nothing but dust and faded memories.
Hi, it was me who made the request about Brett, I loved it, I'll definitely make other requests about him, but only if you allow it of course... And man, that ending was unexpected, it was sinister, I even got a little scared hahaha Thank you for writing about him 🩵
Hello and thanks for reaching out <3 super happy to know you liked it and I couldn’t resist with the ending hehehe. No prob for me if you wanna ask more about him, just have patience ‘cause I got a lot to do in this period
I swear to whoever, whomever, or whatever. That Jack O'Connell want from charming, yet adorable son of gun to ‘I want to sit on his lap’ with that hunk of man. Seriously that man is drives me crazy, I get why every freaks out about him.
And the stories you written with, just make me mentally squeal like a fangirl getting noticed. So thank you so very much for all the hard work and passion you put into your writing and stories.
You with the first half you wrote:
Thank YOU instead for your words anon, they mean a lot to me <3
This is my first time ever interacting with a blog outside of the occasional like. Your fics have honestly been some of my favorite I've read in a LONG time, and I've been reading since like 2020. Every single one is a banger, and I eat it up each time. Especially those Remmick fics, and ESPECIALLY Wanted by a Monster. Leon is a close second, though.
Those might be my favorite male reader fics ever, honestly. The fics actually feels like they were made for a male reader and not a female reader with the pronouns switched.
Thank you so much for writing such masterpieces. I hope you find as much joy from writing them as we do reading them. 🩷
That’s so sweet of you saying this man thank you so much 🥹🥹 you got not clue how much I loved reading this, thanks for the kind words.
Yeah I have a lot of fun writing them but message like yours are the one that keep me motivated even more, thanks a lot and happy pride month to you as well
So um I have a request it can either be James cook or Ethan your pick but bascully him and reader are friends and they do everything together an they are just in love with him they’ve stalked him killed for him super overprotective an one day they decided to confess and the reader does share the same feelings.
(um I acually had two ideas the reader has a boyfriend and either cook or Ethan go batshi crazy an kill him then kidnapp reader although that could be multiply parts cause the reader will eventually catch feelings for him during the kidnapping process then smut lol.
(The other idea was cook or Ethan don’t give up and constantly pursue them until the reader envually falls for them an then smut)
idk your choice on which option I think I like the first tho i like long stories your choice tho since hopefully you’ll be writing it. btw I love your account your stories are awesome.
I see what ya got buddy but those two are like completely different characters, just tell me who you’ll prefer more at this point please
𝔏𝔬𝔬𝓀s 𝔩𝔦𝓀𝔢 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩, 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯
Brett x male reader
Summary: To everyone else he was cruel and dangerous but with you, he was gentle and deeply obsessed. Nearly a year into your relationship, Brett has a surprise waiting at Eden Lake of a long night of passion together. If only you knew what he had done in that place…
Tags: Male reader. No use of Y/N. Established relationship. Brett (Eden Lake). Post-canon. Dark romance. Both Brett and M!reader are 18+. Obsessive behavior. Possessive Brett. Unhealthy relationship dynamics. Implied stalking. Protective Brett. Manipulation. Toxic devotion. First time. Smut. Bottom male reader. Dirty talk. Size difference. Anal sex. Virginity loss. Slight breeding kink undertones. Soft sex mixed with unhealthy attachment. Fluff if you squint. Brett is a walking red flag. Dark thoughts (non-con imaginations). Masturbation.
Request by an anon, hope you liked this.
ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 - gif
Words count: 3500
You'd met Brett on a grey Tuesday afternoon outside the corner shop on the edge of the estate, a place for a lad like you who kept his head down 'cos looking up too long in that part o' town got you noticed by the wrong people and Brett was the definition of wrong, though you didn't know it.
He'd been leant against that brick wall, fag dangling from the corner of his mouth, trackies tucked into white socks, sunglasses over ice-blue eyes.
You'd dropped a tenner on the pavement an' he'd picked it up, holding it out to you and when his fingers brushed yours he'd grinned lopsided.
"Oi, mate, you’re well lucky I’m an honest geezer, innit.”
You’d laughed at the funny way he talked before he asked your name and if you fancied a coke from th' shop, on him, 'cos he reckoned ‘ye looked like ye needed cheerin' up.’
When you'd said yes, that was that.
Door shut behind you and you didn't even hear it click.
He courted you proper, that’s the word for it even though Brett would've gagged hearin' it said out loud.
Definitely not the flowers an' chocolates type of lad or so you'd've thought.
He started turnin' up outside your block o' flats wi' a Mars bar and a can of' Lilt 'cos he'd remembered you said once that it was your favourite.
Nicking daffodils from the park's flower bed, three or four at a time, wrap the stems in a bit o' newspaper and shove 'em into your chest grinning.
"Don' say I never get ye nuffin'."
He'd walk you home from the bus stop every night, hands in his pockets, shoulder bumpin' yours, talking nonsense about football and his long gone dog Bonnie.
First time he kissed you it was on the little iron bridge over the canal, water black an' oily underneath. He'd stopped halfway across, turned to you an' said, "Oi. Don’ move.” And then his mouth crashed on yours.
It surprised you the sudden switch of behavior with going from into a careful and protective boyfriend to someone driven by hunger and he'd laughed against your mouth, breathless an' delighted.
He acted like a mixture between an angel and the perfect boyfriend, holding doors and your hand in the street even when his mates were watchin', dared them with his eyes to say a single fuckin' word.
Always kissed heavily your mouth before he went out at night and did the same when he came back.
There was one time where he had come back at three in the mornin' with his knuckles split and a smell o' petrol on his jacket that you didn't ask about.
He never raised his voice at you, not once.
You fell in love with him over time 'cos how could you not.
He looked at you with so much devotion, he listened and remembered anything you told him, even cackled at your shitty jokes and say how you were a funny cunt.
But.
There were the other things you filed away and didn't think too hard about because it would've meant pullin' on a thread you weren't ready yet, plus what you saw wasn’t too alarming.
There was the way his jaw is set when another bloke spoke to you too long at the bar, hand of his landing on your waist, fingers digging slightly too hard while his thumb pressed into your hip bone like.
He'd smile at th' bloke real polite and said person would go pale, finding somewhere else t' be.
If only you’d would have saw, later at night, the way Brett had beaten him up.
Another time you mentioned an old mate from school, just in passin', saying you'd run into a morning and was doing alright, hoping to meet him again to perhaps have a bit more people in your small circle that included only Brett.
Said lad nodded and smiled, kissing your temple and saying, "That’s nice, babe.”
Two weeks later you saw that same mate in the street with a butterfly stitch over his eyebrow and a limp, crossing the road to avoid you that left you a bit heartbroken, something Brett paid all his attention to attend to.
The way he talked about his mates always in past tense now, voice that would go flat as you asked once what'd happened to them and he’d looked at you for a long second before shrugging and saying, "Lost touch. People grow apart. S’life.”
Right before pulling you into his lap and kissing you a bit harshly till you felt like suffocating.
Bonnie's collar was on a different dog now, a young Staffie be called Bonnie because he missed that bitch every day (his words).
There were moments where he'd hold that collar in his fist staring at nothing for twenty minutes, knuckles white, jaw grindin', breathing through his nose like a bull. When you'd step forward he'd snapped out of it instant, plastered tha' grin on, said, "Alright, handsome? Fancy a chippy?” an' tha' were that.
All the news stories about that couple at Eden Lake, man found dead from blood loss and the lass missin', tha' came on th' telly one evening while Brett was on the settee wi' you, your head in his lap and his fingers in your hair.
Could feel the way his fingers had frozen, face blank and eyes fixed on the screen before he switched channel to Top Gear.
Maybe he knew those people? It’s what you told yourself to never ask him about Eden Lake.
You’d been together near enough a year and you hadn't done it yet.
Other stuff that included hands, mouths and slow grinding on his lap on a Sunday afternoon till you were both panting and laughing and he was telling you to stop before 'e came in his jeans?
All of the above had been done.
It was only missing sex and he had planned it for a fortnight.
You knew he was plannin' summat 'cos he kept disappearing on errands and grinning at his phone, telling you to mind your own beeswax when you asked.
"Pack a bag, babe. Warm stuff. I’m takin’ ye somewhere.” All thrown at you randomly on a Friday mornin'.
"Where?”
"Surprise, innit.” Back with that lopsided, ice-blue grin. "Trust me.”
Of course you trusted him.
The drive was nearly three hours and he'd put on a CD 'e'd burned you, a mix o' songs you'd mentioned likin' over the year, and he drove with' one hand on th' wheel, the other on your thigh, thumb strokin' slow circles.
Through town and suburbs, out into countryside you didn't recognise, hedgerows green an' dense, sky of silver-grey that made it hard to figure out if it was going to rain.
He turned off the main road onto a track, then onto a smaller one.
Trees closed in and your phone signal dropped to nothing.
You glanced at him and he was starin' straight ahead, jaw set, back to blank with his thoughts far away, somewhere you couldn't follow.
Then he felt your eyes on him and turned with a grin.
"Almost there, handsome. Y’alright?”
"Yeah. Yeah, m’alright. Where are we?”
"Special spot. Used t’ come ‘ere as a kid and I wanted t’ show ye.”
The track opened out and beyond th' clearin', through a gap in th' trees, there was flat and dark water ringed with reeds and.
Quiet and empty.
Brett killed the engine and sat for a moment, hands on the wheel, looking out at it.
"Eden Lake,” he said, soft. Pretty, innit?”
Your stomach did somethin' funny at hearing that name
"It’s beautiful,” you said.
"Yeah, It is.” He turned to you, eyes very bright.
He wasn’t looking at the lake.
He set up camp, tent up in fifteen minutes flat, sleeping bags zipped together inside and a new duvet on top.
He'd brought food that you cooked together on a little stove, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration, tongue stickin' out the corner of his mouth like a kid.
Looking to the side when he caught you watchin' and grinning. "What?"
"Nuffin'. Just lookin' at you."
"Knock it off, then, ye soppy cunt."
Right after dinner, )e kissed the salt off your mouth and topped up with a can of beer.
"Y’know,” he said, looking out over the water, "there's nobody fer miles, just you an' me. Whole lake's ours."
"S'nice."
*"It's more than nice." He turned his head and looked at you sideways, summat hungry behind the ‘soft’ look "It’s exactly how I wanted it, I can have ye proper now.” He took a slow swallow o' beer from his can. *"Could shout th' fuckin' place down an' nobody'd 'ear." A laugh, low in his throat. "I want ye t' shout th' place down and let th' whole fuckin' lake t' know yer mine."
Your face went hot as you looked at your can of beer and his eyes were on your mouth.
“Ye sure? We haven’t done anything like that”
"Yeah. I wanna do it. Ye don’t love me?.”
"…alright," you said.
He set his can down on the shingle and reached over to take your chin between thumb and finger, turned your face to him. "Tha's my good fuckin' lad."
He smiled.
"Let's get ye in tha' tent, eh."
He led you by the hand up the shingle, fingers laced through yours, thumb strokin' the back of your knuckles in that absent way he always did when his mind was somewhere else. The sun was sinking proper now, light going copper as the lake behind took a tea color, heart in your rib going like a bloody drum.
He stopped outside the tent, turned t' face you and taking both your hands in 'is.
"Y'alright?"
"Yeah. M'alright. M'just—"
“Nervous, yeah, I know babe." He smiled tha' lopsided smile, and he leant in to kiss the tip of your nose. "Listen. I gotchu. Yeah? M’gonna make ye feel s’ good, I promise."
You nodded while he kept covering your neck in quick pecks, gasping lightly when his teeth took a small chunk of flesh.
"Tha's my lad," he murmured, ducking through the flap and pulling you after 'im.
Inside the tent the fairy lights were on, twenty little gold dots strung along th' poles, duvet puffed up over the zipped-together sleepin' bags.
There was a bottle o' lube he had stolen, now sitting on top of a folded towel by the pillows.
He'd been thinking about this for weeks and the thought made your stomach flip, flattered and a little frightened.
Pulling his cap off and tossing it to the corner, his hair stuck up at the back where the cap'd flattened it.
“C‘mere,” he said and took the hem of your hoodie, lifting it up, knuckles brushing your ribs and you shivered.
He pulled it off over your head, smoothed your hair down where it'd ruffled, kissed your mouth deep, tongue sliding in slow, tasting of beer and the fag he had after dinner, hands settling on your waist, then slid up, palms flat and callouses dragging.
His hands were cold and your skin was warm as you made a small noise into his mouth tha' made him laugh.
T-shirt over your head and tossed, he stepped back for a second to look at you, eyes roaming over your chest and collarbones, tongue coming out to wet his lower lip.
“Fook me. All mine, yeah?"
"Yeah," you breathed. "Yours."
He shut his eyes for a second when you said it, darker when he opened them again.
"Say it again."
"…m'yours, Brett."
"Fook." A tiny, ragged laugh. “Down on yer back, c’mon.”
While following his orders he stripped his own jacket and shirt, pale lean torso with abs and a thin scar across his left hip you’d asked about once and he shrugged off, tattoo on his forearm he had given himself.
Kicking his trainers off, left his jeans on for a minute and knelt over you, knee between your thighs, elbows planted either side of your head, hanging himself over to kiss you avidly, mouth going down to your throat, hollow above your collarbone as he found tha' spot under your ear tha' made you whimper and he stayed there grinnin' against your skin, suckin' on it till ye knew there'd be a bruise tomorrow.
Marking you up properly because he wanted everyone t' see you walking round all marked up.
Mouth going lower, sucking one of your nipples between his teeth, hard enough to make you gasp and arch as he pinned your hip with one hand to hold you flat down, mouthing at the waistband of your jeans, breath hot through the fabric while he looked up the length of you.
"Le's get these off, eh." He undid yer button, zip down and pulled your jeans down your legs, kissing the fronts of your thighs as he went.
You were hard already since he'd kissed you outside th' tent and he let out a long unsteady breath, leaning down and kissing the tip of your cock before sitting back on his knees and undoing his own jeans.
When 'e shoved them down with his boxers, you'd felt him before even seeing as he grounded himself against your bare arse.
You have had him in your hand, in your mouth once or twice but feeling him like this, fully out and hard, caused you to make a small sound in your throat you didn't mean t' make.
Quite big for his age, cock thick and flushed while standing up flat against his stomach, vein down the underside along a neat thatch of dark hair at the base.
He took himself in his fist and gave one slow stroke, watchin' your face.
“Tha' alright fer ye?" He said quietly and there was a flick of smugness behind it.
"…I dunno if it'll fit, Brett—"
"Aw, babe. I’ll make it fit don’t worry.”
He bent an' kissed ye again, reassuring. Mouth soft. “Gonna take care o’ ye.” He nudged your thighs apart with his knees and settled between them, reaching for the bottle, popping the cap and slicking his fingers.
His left hand spread on your inner thigh, to hold you open while his right hand went between your cheeks and that first cold circle of his finger over your hole made you jump.
Breathing out, his finger pushed in and worked you open with some excitement and rushed behind it, probably unable to wait for the next moment.
Two fingers came, scissoring while knuckles deep, watchin' your face the whole time and when he found your prostate, it made your hips jolt and he grinned before doing it again and again till you were leakin' onto your own abdomen.
"Th—Brett—"
"Mm?"
"M'ready, m'ready, please!"
"One more. Wan' ye properly ready an’ good fer ye."
Three fingers stretchin' and burnin' but when he crooked them you saw stars.
At one point you had half-forgotten where you were, some hot embarrassed thrill went through you.
He saw it on your face and his eyes went bright.
"Aye. Alright. Le's give ye what ye need."
He pulled 'is fingers out and slicked his cock, stroking himself while starin' down at you spread out under him and his mouth fell open as he looked like an animal.
His hand went under your right knee and lifted, pushing your leg back toward your chest as his other hand came under your left, openin' you up wide, forcin' your thighs apart further.
He held his cock at the base, lined up and let the head kiss your hole, blunt and hot.
"Look at me,” he said.
Your eyes looked on his just as he pushed.
The stretch of the head going in along the inevitable forwards of it made you gasp and grip at his forearms, eyes watering with every inch going in.
“Fook me," he breathed. “Tha’s so fuckin’ tight, look at ye takin’ it so fuckin' well fer me.“
You looked down and saw 'im halfway in, hole stretched red and shiny ‘round him and the sight nearly undid you entirely.
He pushed in deeper, watchin' your face for pain, kissing the insides of your thighs, muttering nonsense until his hips were flush against your arse and he was all the way in, dropping his forehead to your collarbone, trembling while fully feeling everything around him while buried to the hilt.
Barely letting yourself adjust, the burn was easing, fullness settling into summat tolerable
*"…go on," you whispered.
He moved right after, long and deep draws back near out and slowly pushed home, that punched a sound out of you because of the size of him. He had you folded near in half, knees by your chest, and his hips rolled into yours with a desperate need of chasing the addictive feeling.
His breath was in your mouth, eyes open and not leaving yours.
“Knew ye were made fer me cock.”
"Brett—"
“Louder, babe. Le’ th’ lake hear ye.” He drove in harder, hips snapping and causing you to cry out, voice ringin' loud in th' little tent as his rhythm built, hips workin' steadier, each stroke deeper as his hips smacked against your arse, creak of the tent floor under your back while he grunted into your ears.
"Fookin’ love this. Should’ve done this months ago. Could’ve ‘ad ye like this every fookin’ night. Mine, ye ‘ear me? Nobody gets t’ see ye like this.“
You couldn't think about anything else except him hittin' that spot inside you on every stroke now and your cock was slappin' wet against your belly while making broken little half-words.
He shifted his weight and took your cock in his fist, slick with lube and your own leak, starting to work it in time with his thrusts.
"Come on,” he murmured. "Come fro’ me cock. Wan’ t’ feel ye go.”
You couldn't hold it, back arching, mouth open and you came, hard, in stripes up your abdomen and over his fist, vision goin' white at the edges as he milked you through it and the clench of your hole around him as you came was what did him.
"Oh—oh fuck, babe—“ His hips stuttered and he drove in deep, holding there as you felt him pulse inside you, hot wet flood of it deep in your guts, and he made a low broken groan, his whole body shuddered, forehead pressed against yours.
“Mine,” he breathed against your mouth over an' over.
He stayed inside you for a long time after, his weight half on you and half slumped t' the side, his arm thrown across your chest possessively while you stroked his hair.
When he finally pulled out he watched between yer legs as he did it, sight of his cum leaking out of you onto the duvet before he pressed two fingers and pushed it back in.
You were too fucked-out to do anything but laugh shakily and pull him back down to you, tucking himself against your side, head on your chest and ear over your heart.
You drifted off with his weight on you and his hand at your throat, happier than you’d ever been.
He didn't sleep, laying with his ear over your heart and listening to it beat for a long time before he turned his face and looked out through the open tent flap at the lake.
His mind wasn’t with you but far shore, that summer he was sixteen and all the shit he went through with that couple.
Then his mind did a trick to him and placed you there in that context, imagining you with that couple that had come up to the lake for a swim and a picnic.
Imagining your pretty face going white when he'd come walking out the trees with the lads behind 'im.
Imagined you thrashing and kicking back, that same voice that moaned his name an hour ago getting morphed by fear.
Getting t'you before the others did, pinning you down on that same shingle, jeans round your ankles and arms held over your head with one hand. ‘Shhh, m'just gonna fook ye’
The thought of how tight you’d feel, body squeezing down on him because it didn't want him, your nails on his shoulders, tears on your cheek as he never stopped till he’ll come inside you.
His cock had gotten so hard again under the duvet, pressed up against the soft underside of your thigh where you’d thrown a leg over him in your sleep, thick and warm, leaking a bead onto his stomach even though he just emptied himself in you an hour ago.
Question was whether t' tell you one of these days what he had done that summer, curious on how you’d take it, whether you’d run, freeze up or surprise him and say that it didn’t matter right before kissing him.
Or you’d hate him and he’d have t' deal with that too…
He shifted careful onto his side, slid his hand down between your bodies and wrapped his fist around his own cock under the duvet.
Biting his lip and closing his eyes, he worked his fist slow up the shaft and back down, knuckles brushing against your hip wi' every stroke while you slept, breath warm on his neck.
He kept your face in his mind when he'd first pushed inside you, eyes wet and mouth open.
His fist tightened and sped up, breath coming shorter through his nose as his mind bleed his current and real thoughts together with another film where your eyes were wet for a different reason.
Both of you were his, the one that loved him and the one that would have ended up doing anyway.
His hips twitched up in his fist, cock pulsing and pre-come slick down the length of him, making the slide easier.
He pictured coming on your face on the shingle or right now in the tent, waking you up confused before licking his come off your own lip.
Jaw locked so tight it hurt as he came bard, cock pulsing thick in his fist, ropes of it splashing across his own abdomen and his knuckles, one long shuddery exhale followed that he turned in to your hair so it sounded like nothing.
He'd decide when to say it, there were years of time and you weren't goin' anywhere.
Definitely praying for Code: Veronica remake, Blizzard! Lol imma commune with the devil and make a ritual circle at this point 🤭
And I think they can bring back Ethan. The RE universe is weird and unpredictable, so you'll never know! Adding that to the prayer list, too!
AND OMYGOD, YESS SINNERRSS! Playing as a vampire would be so cool and if the game allows you to romance Remmick, that'll be a bonus lmaoo
OH and if they get Jack O'Connell himself to voice-act for video game Remmick would be THE dream!
But yesss, this was a lovely chat, Blizzard! It's time for me to return to the shadows and re-read the James Cook fic for the... 5th? 6th time? Idk I'm just loving your work! Hope to you read more from youu!
Take care and good luck with your dayy! 💙💙💙
- 💙👋
I think you’ll be quicker with the sacrifice of a goat haha, make it messy just like how Remmick would like it <3
‘Hope to you read more from youu!’ I might have something in the store that had been in the making for a while now 🤭
𝒞𝓊𝓇𝓈ℯ𝒹 ℐ𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹ℯ @lefteagleblizzard - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
