𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: Remmick doesn’t like it when you have to go to work.
𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑠: sfw, fluff, pining, gn!reader, pathetic!needy!remmick, suggestive themes, no real smut but allusions to it, Remmick is down bad for reader
“Please darlin’ you know I ain’t do well without ya” he mumbles, words half muffled against your shirt as he nuzzles into your stomach.
This is a normal occurrence, one you’ve gone over multiple times before leaving for work. You’d be putting on your shoes, grabbing the keys, hand on the doorknob when you’d feel those familiar arms wrap around your waist.
‘Please?’ He’d whisper into your ear, his grip around you tightening in hopes of convincing you to stay. And almost every time, you’d say ‘I can’t. I’m sorry, love’. What else was there to say? It’s work! You have to earn a living to keep a roof over his head.
Yet it never seemed to stop him from pleading and begging anyway. And here he is now, knelt in front of you, hands digging into the warm flesh of your hips, face nuzzling your clothed stomach in an effort to keep you from slipping away.
"Please pretty baby, you can't go. You slip out this door every mornin' n stay away for hours! It's like I'm dyin' all over again!" A minute of deafening silence passes.
Suddenly, he looks up at you, head tilting up, chin propping against your stomach to get a better view of you. "You like killin' me sweetheart? D'you like seein' me suffer?". And the look on his face is so serious that you have to stifle a laugh.
But you simply shake your head and sigh, letting your fingers run through his disheveled hair. "I can't stay, baby. I gotta go to work, you know I can't". He simply huffs and shakes his head, hands gripping your hips a smidgen tighter than before.
"That ain't true, who said ya can't?"
At the sound of your words, he falls silent. He can't really argue that.
"Call in sick. Tell him— tell him ya can't make it." There it is. He never is the kind to let go without a fight. You simply sigh and shake your head, a weary chuckle escaping your lips.
"Baby please, you gotta let me go.".
In response all you get is a muffled whine. He goes rigid for a minute, and you can tell that he's thinking of every possible strategy to get you to stay. He pulls away from you, shuffling back on his knees and you think for a split second that he'll finally let you go until his hands slip under the hem of your shirt to rest on your warm stomach.
The touch of his cold, calloused, hands on your skin takes you by surprise, sends a shiver through your body, and he selfishly smiles at your instinctive response. You open your mouth to respond, but the words fail to leave your mouth when you feel his lips press soft kisses along the skin above your waistband.
The corner of his lips quirk up into a proud smirk as he watches you, your eyes snapping shut and your hand tightening in his hair as you try to regain your composure. Yet he never gives you a chance to reply, his hands traveling down your stomach to hook on the waistband of your pants, teasingly pulling the material down just enough to press another few heated kisses on the scorched skin of your lower abdomen.
His eyes stay glued on to you, taking in every twitch of your face, watching intently to see if he's swayed your cold-cut resolve any. But you shake your head, trying to ignore the heat building deep in your belly. Remmick can see the conflict on your face, the way your eyebrows are furrowing deeper with each kiss he places on your skin, and he can feel the way your nails are deliciously running across his scalp. He can tell that you're being pulled in two directions, that you're stuck between giving into pleasure and following responsibility.
And that conflict works in his favor, holds you off. He discreetly looks at the clock from the corner of his eye, while he continues to tug at the waistband of your pants. 8:50. He only needs to hold you off for 10 more minutes or until you're late for work. If you're late, then maybe, just maybe, you won't go at all!
You manage to regain your composure, eyes snapping open as you look down at him. You tug his head back by the hair, eliciting a whimper from him. Yet he still doesn't give you a chance to respond, fingers eagerly working the button of your pants. The button pops open. And he smiles up at you like he's drained 13 people after being thirsty for weeks.
He cuts you off with a moan, fingers dragging down the zipper of your jeans. "Please?" He murmurs, lips pressed against your skin. You have to bite your lip to stifle your words. He takes your silence as a victory, hands moving to tug at the waistband of your underwear next.
'Please stay, I-I'll be good, I will."
8:56am. He smiles against your skin, though it's hidden as he slowly begins to tug down your soft white underwear over your hips. A few more minutes, and he'll perhaps succeed in getting you to stay. He tugs down your pants until they're bunched up at your knees, not caring much for pulling them down all the way.
A ragged, filthy moan escapes him at the sight of you. His hands travel up your plush thighs, nails digging into the soft flesh as they ascend higher and higher, leaving a trail of crescent marks behind them. A string of drool escapes his mouth, running down his chin like he's seen something sweet.
Soft lips press against your thighs, following the path of his hands. He nuzzles into the crux of your thigh, the place where it merges into your hip, inches away from where you need him the most. His warm breath hits your arousal and he leans in, preparing to devour you when—
Before he can do anything, the loud ringing of your phone snaps you out of your trance. Quickly, you pull out the ringing device from your pants pocket. And sure enough, when you look at the screen you see 'Boss' as the caller ID before it stops ringing. You rush to pull up your pants, eyes frantically searching the living room before locking on the clock above the dinner table. 9:10am.
¨Fuck¨ you curse under your breath, buttoning your jeans and moving to slide on your shoes. Through it all, you fail to catch the small whine that leaves Remmick's lips, the way he simply watches with furrowed brows and a pout gracing his lips as you get ready to go, to leave him.
When you finish getting ready you reach in your pocket to grab the keys, only to find them missing. You turn around, hands patting the pockets on your jeans and then the pockets on your jacket in confusion. You only freeze in surprise when you hear the jangle of keys coming from below.
You turn around and look down to be met with the sight of Remmick still knelt on the floor, looking up at you with glazed eyes and a frown painting his face. Your eyes follow the sound of clinking metal to find the bundle of keys in his right hand. He pathetically shuffles closer, his knees hitting the tips of your shoe-clad feet before he defeatedly holds up the keys for you to take.
You pause for a second, taking in the view before accepting the keys and leaning forward, wrapping your arms around him. Remmick lets out a sad sigh and nuzzles into your stomach once again.
"I know baby, I know. But I'll be back soon okay? And it's morning! The only thing you have left to do now is sleep. You won't even notice that I'm gone when you're under the covers all safe n snug." You pull away to cup his cheeks in your hands and he looks up at you like you've hung the stars in the sky.
"Course I'll notice ya gone, darlin'. You won't be in my arms while I sleep. How else 'm I 'pose to rest?"
You could have sworn that you felt your heart break right then and there. Having nothing left to say, you sigh and press a kiss to his forehead. You linger there for a moment, like its an apology. As if you're trying to make up for the simple act of leaving for work. You pull away after a few seconds, running a hand through his hair to fix its disheveled state.
"I'll miss you" his hands gently rest on your waist as if trying to soak up as much of you as possible before you leave.
"I'll miss you too, baby. I'll be back before you know it." You confirm with a nod, giving him a soft smile as you caress his cheek one last time.
𝐴.𝑁: Hello y’all!!! How are y’all doing?? Send me requests please. I need motivation to write. Ugh let me know if y’all liked this.
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