Aug 6
I hate when I spend over 20k words writing a one-shot, only for Tumblr to refuse to let me post it, forcing me to cut it down and rework the entire thing.
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from T1
seen from T1
seen from China
seen from Australia
seen from Uruguay
seen from Japan
seen from France
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
I hate when I spend over 20k words writing a one-shot, only for Tumblr to refuse to let me post it, forcing me to cut it down and rework the entire thing.
lulaws fic recs
these are all the fics i VERY MUCH RECOMMEND! will be updated :*
sir lord jimmy crystal x texas chainsaw massacre by @quietchaosclub
make u cum by @theladyoftheunderground
make u cum pt 2 by @theladyoftheunderground
my bloody valentine by @spikedfearn
better watch out by @spikedfearn
under the blood moon by @spikedfearn
polaroid by @foxtufts
toxic!remmick x pregnant!reader headcanons by @hatethysinner
Chocolate Cake
Remmick x Reader
The chocolate cake that you make lures the presence of Remmick into your home where he enjoys two different types of cake.
Warnings: Abuse. oral sex (on you). secretion. fingering. misuse of frosting.
You laid in bed reminiscing that night with Remmick thinking of how worshipped you felt within his hold. You knew he would return tonight and the unbearably wait of his return made you spiral. For the first time since you’ve been married, you didn’t ponder on what your husband might be doing at the bar besides drinking.
Your body twitches slightly at the reoccurring thought of Rem’s length penetrating u over and over again; letting out small accidental moans as you walk around the house. You need to distract yourself, desperately.
“A cake, I’ll make a cake”
You make your way to the kitchen and grab the necessary ingredients for the chocolate cake you’ve decided to make. As you begin mixing the batter you clutch the bowl and the whisk still imagining yourself under Rem’s body. You whisk the batter harder eventually opening the oven, ready to bake the contents of the cake. As you close the oven you continue to think of Rem and how much he would love this chocolate cake you’re currently making. Maybe he’ll fuck you even harder tonight if he likes it.
You put on the brown oven mitt you knitted last week to again keep yourself occupied. You took out the cake, smelling the aromatic scent of the chocolate waving through the air. When you look outside, the state of the sky tells you that Rem would shortly be coming to fulfill your fantasies that you’ve been thinking about all day.
You rushed around the kitchen gathering more ingredients to make the chocolate frosting for the cake, swiveling your head around to the window watching the sun set a little more every few minutes.
Finally, it was done.
You set it on a nice white plate with blue floral designs around the edges that accentuated the beauty of the homemade cake. You hoped that Rem would like it enough to taste something more than just this cake.
The sun fully set under the horizon and the moon rose up to the dark sky making you anxious for his arrival. Suddenly, three knocks could be heard from the door.
“Darlin’, you gon’ let me in or do I have to get on my knees and beg you to?”
You picked up the cake as you hurried towards the door opening it to him looking at you with so much hunger and need, your legs almost collapsed from the feelings you’ve felt all day building up in this very moment.
“Come in”, you said confidently.
You held out the cake in front of him where he took the fork resting on the side of the plate wasting no time to taste it. His mouth melted as he felt the flavor creating an array of goodness in his mouth.
“Damn darlin’ this taste so good, though I know somethin’ better”
“Oh, and what would that be Rem?”
He had backed you up all the way from the door to the kitchen without even laying a finger on you yet. You set the cake down carefully on the counter where Rem then pushed it further back so he could have room to pick you up and place you on the counter. He pushed his lips to yours causing both of you to make small noises and hearing him whimper:
“I…I need you so bad darlin’, fuck, I…I just can’t help myself.”
He moves his right hand to your hip where it quickly traveled down to the hem on your dress pulling it up to revealing your already wet cunt. You didn’t wear panties today, for him. His cock grew hard by the second, he was practically already about to cum through his pants. He placed two digits in you but took them out a second later. You were still being devoured by his passionate kiss, but you were left confused as to why he stopped fingering you. That’s when you felt him again, only this time, there was a third finger.
He figured you could take it, and you surely could.
“Yea, stretch out that cunt f’me baby, you’re gonna take whatever I give ya’”
Your legs squirmed as you wrapped your fingers around his neck squeezing a bit hard, but he wasn’t affected by it, not one bit. He saw your face, and the way your body twitched, and the way your cunt got wetter for him, both of you looking down to see your fluids dripping on the kitchen floor.
“Looks like you’ve made a bit of a mess darlin’, don’t worry though we can clean it up later. Although I think it would be best if I could stop the source of where the mess is coming from.”
He pulls his 3 thick digits out of your dripping cunt and puts each of his large but delicate hand on your thighs. He fangs were more visible by the second and his eyes glow red as he looks up at you, but then, over to the bowl of frosting on the counter.
“Is that the bowl of frosting you used for your cake darlin’?”
You nod your head trying to figure out what point he was getting at, when suddenly he stands up quickly to retrieve the clear bowl filled with leftover chocolate frosting. He uses one of his hands to push your legs open for him to take the wooden spatula and smear chocolate frosting all over your cunt. It drips between the folds and some of it joins your slick on the floor. He quickly puts the spatula down to now use both of his hands to grip your thighs giving himself complete access to the sweet treat he was about to devour.
“That cake you made me darlin’, it was delicious, but this…now this is even better.”
His tongue circles the chocolate covered clit that he now realized was very sensitive as your body twitched slightly forward and you whimper, “Rem please”.
He didn’t respond to you because now he was nose deep into your cunt licking every crevice and wall. His tongue moving gracefully up and down, left and right, in circles, and in and out of you. Almost half of the frosting was gone now but as more was devoured by Rem, more cum dripped out of you.
He finally lifted his head, not to get some air, he didn’t need air, he just wanted to look at your face that begged him to keep going even after you felt like you were on the verge of breaking. His nose and chin were covered by the smooth chocolate mixed with the milky white contents of your cum.
You weren’t the only one dripping though. In his pants a few drops of cum managed to seep through his underwear as he was now addicted to your taste.
You felt yourself coming closer to finishing. The chocolate on your cunt was all gone now but Rem kept going faster and faster being fueled purely off your juices.
“that’s right finish f’me baby”
Your body curls up towards him, your left hand supporting your body on the counter and your right gripping onto his hair in attempt to try and push him away, but your strength was nothing compared to his especially when he kept your legs forced open after you instinctively tried closing them together. You moaned loud in sweet euphoric pleasure of Rem’s tongue fucking you as it pulsed in and out of you in your occurring orgasm. He drank your cum with tears swelling up in his eyes from the succulent taste. It was rich, it was sweet, it was savory, it was yours.
“darlin’, I don’t know what your made of, but it surely is addicting.”
You were drained, tired but needy for more of his touch. He saw the look in your eyes; he was so good at reading you which led to him swooping you up over his shoulder and carrying you to the bedroom. After he set you down gently on the bed, he looks down at his shirt and saw in covered in your cum, and a bit of chocolate sauce. He unbuttoned it throwing it onto the floor intending to wash it later after he’s done making sure you were comfortable, your body had been through so much. He went into bed with you pulling you closer to him, the warmth of your body made him feel right. After about 15 minutes, you fell asleep, but Rem stayed awake. He did this because he wanted to make sure he was protecting you, that he could lift any worry off you even in your own home.
30 minutes later, he heard that familiar sound outside the front of the house. It was your husband. He hated that man with a burning passion after all that he’s put you through, he honestly would’ve killed him already, but he wanted your permission first before he went full vampire on him.
He swiftly but carefully slid himself from you clearly upset that he couldn’t be in your grasp not just tonight, but forever, never letting go. He whispered softly to you.
“I’m sorry I have to go darlin’, but your bastard of a husband is here and even though you know I could handle him, I don’t even wanna imagine what he would want to do to you when I’m not here for you.”
There was no time to put on his shirt that he quickly swiped off the floor, so he ran out shirtless stopping by the kitchen on his way out. He saw the mess that was made on the floor, the spot he said he would clean up later, but he keeps his promises especially when it comes to you. He grabbed two pieces of tissues, one to clean up the mess, and the other to hold a slice of chocolate cake that he would eat to remember the sweet taste of you.
my masterlist / my ao3
remmick x fem!reader fresh (2022) au
word count: 1,247
based on this ask by @klhsmn 🖤 hope you enjoy<3
synopsis: you meet a cute guy at the grocery store, and start dating him. he quickly invites you to his place in the countryside, and you go along. after all, he’s lovely, right?
WARNINGS‼️: graphic noncon, piv, choking, knifeplay, bloodplay, bondage, spanking, cannibalism, somnophilia, mutilation
race/appearance neutral reader!
banner credit: @scrprints
tags: @angel1207 , @z0mb13xxxx , @helaenasfavoritechicken
song:
you met him at the grocery store. so handsome, so charismatic. he was cracking jokes, complimenting you. he really made quite the impression. he asked for your number, of course you gave it to him.
remmick. what an interesting name, you thought. not from here.
you went on a date with him soon after. it was the most fun you’d ever had on a date.
you went on another date, and another one. soon you were completely smitten.
he asked you to come with him to his place in the countryside. you were overjoyed, of course you said yes. you didn’t tell anyone the location of the place, you were too distracted by how hot remmick was.
the place was massive, super fancy. in the middle of nowhere, of course. you suspected nothing, not until he took your phone, locked you in a small room.
you were really fucked.
you’re not sure what’s happening, you seem to be on an operation table, tied up.
"remmick?" you whimper, teary-eyed. "yeah, sugar?" remmick coos, petting your hair. he has on rubber gloves.
"what are you doing?" you sob. "shh, darlin’... jus’ go to sleep", he purrs, putting an anesthesia mask on your mouth.
you try to resist it, but eventually you fall into a deep sleep.
you wake up with a throbbing pain on your buttock. it feels weird, lighter somehow.
you’re lying on your stomach, still on the operation table. remmick kisses your hair. "ya awake?" he coos.
"what did you do?" you cry. "i jus’ took a lil’ somethin’, baby", remmick says calmly, petting your hair.
he makes you stand up, putting you in a pink dress. it has a fucking bow. "don’t ya look pretty", remmick coos.
"c’mon baby, i’ll make us dinner", remmick coos, picking you up into his arms. you cry out from the pain. "shh, shh, so dramatic, baby.. i gave ya pain meds", remmick chuckles.
he brings you to the kitchen, makes you sit down. as you sit down you realize what it is. you’re missing a buttock. sitting down hurts like hell, so you start bawling.
remmick comes to you, hushing you, wrapping his arms around you. "none o’that now, darlin’", he coos. "wait here", he says and leaves the kitchen.
you could make a run for it, you should. but right as you’ve gathered up the courage, remmick comes back with something bloody wrapped in paper.
you freeze. "is that my-" you ask, shuddering. "smart girl", remmick says, opening the paper.
it’s a bloody piece of your flesh, ripped from you. you’re mutilated. you start sobbing again.
"baby.. stop cryin’", remmick sighs. to your horror he takes a large knife and starts cutting up little pieces of your flesh, even putting some of them in his mouth, chewing on them. "so good, baby", he says. "best meat i ever had", he adds.
he starts cooking something, with your flesh no less.
you keep crying until he brings you a plate. spaghetti and meatballs. you gag.
"don’t be rude now", remmick says. "i made that wi’ love", he adds.
he takes a forkful of the food and puts it on your mouth. "say ahh", he says. you shut your mouth as hard as you can, shaking your head.
remmick sighs. "jus’ fuckin’ eat it", he hisses, shoving the fork inside your mouth. you gag at the smell, that’s when he manages to feed you your own flesh.
"swallow", he says, forcing your mouth shut, pinching your nose. soon you have no choice but to swallow. you gag, crying. "good girl", remmick praises you. "now i wanna see that plate empty", he says. "no!" you sob. "if ya refuse to eat i’ll take the other one as well", remmick hisses.
he gets himself a plate as well, only that he’s not having spaghetti. just pieces of your flesh. "c’mon then, eat", he says.
you take a small forkful of food and eat with shaking hands, gagging. "that’s a good girl", remmick says, starting to eat as well.
you eat in silence, remmick sometimes breaking the silence by praising you for how sweet you taste.
you manage to keep it all down somehow, a miracle. remmick gives you a kiss once your plate is empty. "such a good girl i have", he coos.
"c’mon now, ya deserve a reward", he says, picking you up again.
he carries you upstairs to a bedroom. it’s full on whips, handcuffs and other restraints. you also see ball gags, masks, and different dildos and vibrators.
"no, no, no", you whine as he lies you down on the bed, ass up. he gets restrains, spreading your arms, tying your wrists to the bed. then it’s your legs.
soon you’re spread out, in an uncomfortable position, blood gushing out your wound.
remmick roughly lifts your bloody dress, revealing your mutilated ass. "so pretty", he coos.
"stop!" you cry.
"shh, darlin’, we’re gon’ have some fun", remmick says.
you don’t see what he’s doing, but soon you feel the blade of a knife on your back.
"no!" you scream. "shut the fuck up, slut", remmick hisses, his mood suddenly changing. "ya do as i say", he says, voice low and cold.
then he presses the blade on your skin, making a cut. you scream, it hurts like hell. the pain on your ass is worse, though.
he puts his mouth on the wound, hungrily licking your blood. "sweet as sin", he murmurs, feasting on your blood.
once he’s done you feel him taking off his belt, pulling down his pants. his cock slaps your wound, you cry out from the pain.
"wha wha", remmick mocks you.
he spreads you open, fingers digging into your wound. you scream and cry from the pain as he rubs the broad tip of his cock on your entrance.
"cry all ya want, ain’t gon’ stop me", he says, slapping the healthy side of your ass.
he starts pushing in. you cry as he bottoms out, it’s way too big, and the pain on your back and ass is throbbing.
he starts thrusting, hard and rough, not caring that you’re in pain.
"stop, it hurts!" you scream. remmick lets out an annoyed grunt, putting his hands around your neck. he squeezes hard, choking you, completely cutting off your airflow.
your eyes water up more, you can’t do anything as he violates you.
you can’t breathe, your ass is hurting so much you could die.
your eyes close, and you slowly drift off to an unconscious state.
"darlin’?" remmick says, leaning in, releasing your neck. he doesn’t stop fucking you.
"poor lil’ baby passed out?" he chuckles. "ain’t gon’ stop me", he murmurs, starting to go faster.
even in your passed out state your cunt can feel everything, and you start lubricating. "aww, she’s droolin’ f’ me", remmick purrs.
his balls are slamming against your ass as he fucks your limp body, moaning. "fucking slut", he groans, slapping your ass again.
you whimper in your unconscious state, which arouses remmick. "cryin’ f’ me even in yer sleep", he says.
your cunt involuntarily clenching around his cock, remmick moans, burying himself deep inside you.
his warm cum floods inside.
remmick slaps your cheek. "time to wake up", he says. you slowly open your eyes, immediately letting out a cry from the pain hitting you.
"i’ll get ya more pain meds", remmick says, kissing the back of your head.
"i’ll have miself meat f’ a long time now"
Enthralled
Pairing : AU Celebrity Vampire Remmick x female reader Summary : In a world where vampires coexist with humans under the fragile Blood Accord, you're just a struggling entertainment journalist assigned to interview Remmick—the most famous vampire celebrity of the age. Warnings: Predator/prey dynamics, power imbalance, biting/blood kink (implied), slight dub-con elements (consent established), obsessive behavior, age gap (centuries), explicit sexual content, graphic violence/gore, blood drinking as sexual activity, supernatural bond/enthrallment dynamics, body horror (Council hunters), mentions of genocide/extermination (historical, Siren backstory), dubious consent elements (supernatural influence), knife/blood play adjacent themes, death threats, captivity themes CLICK HERE FOR PART ONE
PART TWO This fic contains graphic depictions of sex. This is your last warning
You'd been with him for three weeks when they came.
Three weeks of learning the brownstone's secrets—the panic room behind the wine cellar, the weapons cache that predated firearms, the tunnels that led to the river.
Three weeks of discovering what Remmick truly was beneath the celebrity veneer: older than he'd claimed, more dangerous than the Accord allowed, a vampire who'd survived centuries by being the thing other monsters feared.
Three weeks of him learning you, too.
The spots that made you gasp. The rhythm of your heart when you were afraid versus aroused versus happy. He'd memorized your symphony, he said. Could play it back in his mind during the daylight hours when he slept and you wandered the sunlit rooms, touching his things, wondering what you'd become.
The hunters came at dusk.
You were in the kitchen, making coffee—an absurd domesticity, you brewing caffeine while he prepared his evening meal from a refrigerated bag of O-negative—when the window shattered.
Not exploded. Shattered. A sound like breaking ice, and then the room filled with mist that smelled of ozone and old magic.
Remmick moved.
He was across the kitchen before you could scream, knocking the coffee from your hand, shoving you behind him with force that bruised.
"Elder magic," he hissed. "Stay behind me."
Shapes formed in the mist—three of them, tall and thin, wearing the gray suits of Council enforcement.
Their faces were wrong. Too smooth. Like wax masks that had partially melted and reformed.
"Remmick of the Northern Court," the center one intoned, voice echoing from everywhere at once. "You harbor a prohibited entity. Surrender the Siren and submit to judgment."
"Fuck your judgment," Remmick snarled.
You'd never heard him sound like that. The celebrity charm, the old-world courtesy—gone. What remained was ancient and feral and hungry in a way that had nothing to do with blood.
"The Accord—"
"Doesn't cover this," Remmick interrupted. "She's not in your registry. Not in your laws. She's mine."
"Then you choose war."
The mist solidified into blades.
What happened next was too fast to track. Remmick shoved you toward the pantry—"Run! The cellar!"—and met the hunters head-on. You saw him move, a blur of darkness, and heard the impact as he struck the first hunter. The sound was like a car crash, metal screaming against metal.
But there were three.
You reached the pantry door, looked back—don't look back, you idiot, never look back—and saw one of the hunters sink a gray blade into Remmick's side. He didn't cry out. Vampires didn't need to breathe. But you saw the pain ripple across his face, saw him stumble.
The music, you thought hysterically. He needs the music.
You didn't remember deciding to move. One second you were in the doorway, the next you were in the kitchen, grabbing a cast-iron skillet from the stove—absurd, ridiculous, a frying pan against Elder magic—and swinging it at the hunter attacking Remmick's blind side.
The impact shuddered up your arm. The hunter turned, smooth face splitting open to reveal something wet and glowing inside.
"Siren," it breathed, and the word was reverence and hunger. "You come to us."
"She comes to me," Remmick roared.
He moved.
Later, you would try to describe it and fail.
He became something else—something that wore Remmick's face but had nothing human in it. He tore through the first hunter with his bare hands, ripping the gray suit open to expose the thing inside, which screamed in a frequency that shattered the remaining windows.
The second hunter turned to face him, and Remmick smiled.
That smile would haunt your dreams.
He was fast. Faster than the hunters, though they were Council-made, though they had magic that predated the Accord.
He moved like music—like the music he heard in your blood, all rhythm and devastating harmony—and when he struck, the hunter came apart. Literally came apart, gray suit falling empty to the floor.
The third hunter retreated to the mist.
"Remmick," it called, voice coming from everywhere. "The Council will not forget this. You protect an abomination. You slaughter enforcement. You are—"
"Free," Remmick finished.
He reached into the mist—impossibly, physically reached into vapor—and grabbed something solid. Pulled. The hunter materialized, gasping, Remmick's hand buried in its chest where a heart should be.
"I was old before your Council was formed," Remmick whispered. "I signed your Treaty because I was bored, not because I was bound. And she—" he twisted his hand, and the hunter shuddered, "—she is the first interesting thing to happen to me in four hundred years. So tell your masters: come for her again, and I will unmake you. All of you. From the youngest fledgling to the Elders themselves. I will burn your courts and salt your earth and sing her name while I do it."
He withdrew his hand. The hunter collapsed, dissolving into gray ash that smelled of burning libraries.
Silence.
Remmick stood in the wreckage of your kitchen, covered in blood that wasn't his—too dark, too thick, wrong in a way that made your stomach twist. He was breathing hard, though he didn't need to breathe at all. Trembling.
"You're hurt," you whispered.
He looked down at the wound in his side, the gray blade still embedded there. "It will heal."
"Remmick—"
He crossed to you in two strides, pulled you against him with desperate strength. His body was cold, always cold, but his mouth was fever-hot against your throat.
"I told you to run," he growled.
"You were losing."
"I don't lose." He pulled back, cupped your face in blood-stained hands. "But I would have. Without the music. Without knowing you were here, waiting, I would have let them take me before I let them take you."
"You would have died?"
"I was never alive, sweetheart. Not until you." He kissed you, fierce and claiming, and you tasted copper and ash and something that might have been tears. "They're coming back. More of them. The Council doesn't forgive defiance."
"Then we run."
"There's nowhere to run. They have resources. Magic. Time."
"Then we fight."
He stared at you. You stared back, this human who'd somehow become a Siren, this woman who'd chosen a monster and refused to regret it.
"You're not afraid," he observed, wonder in his voice.
"I'm terrified," you corrected. "But I'm also angry. They came into my kitchen. Threatened my vampire." You reached up, touched the wound in his side, ignored his hiss of pain. "Nobody threatens what's mine."
Something shifted in his expression. Possession, yes, but matched now. Met equally.
"Your vampire," he repeated, tasting the words.
"Mine," you confirmed. "Just like I'm yours. That's how this works, isn't it? The binding. The enthrallment. It goes both ways."
He laughed, breathless and broken and real. "It was never supposed to. The Sirens controlled the vampires. The vampires didn't… didn't get to keep them."
"Well," you said, stepping closer, pressing against him despite the blood and the ash and the shattered glass, "I'm making new rules."
He kissed you again, softer this time. Reverent. The gray blade in his side scraped against your hip, and neither of you cared.
"There's a place," he murmured against your lips. "Old. Older than the Council. Where the first treaties were signed, before they became laws. A neutral ground."
"Will they honor it?"
"No." He grinned, feral and young. "But they won't expect us to go there. They'll expect us to run to the New World, to the colonies, to anywhere modern. They forget I remember the old roads."
"Then let's go."
He pulled the blade from his side with a wet sound, tossed it aside. Already, the wound was knitting, flesh rejoining with soft whispers.
"Pack nothing," he said. "We leave in ten minutes. The tunnels to the river, then north. There's a car waiting in Hartford."
"How long have you been planning this?"
"Since the interview." He touched your face, gentle now, the predator sheathed. "Since I first heard you sing and knew I would destroy the world to keep hearing it."
You didn't pack. You didn't need to. The only thing that mattered was standing in front of you, wounded and ancient and yours in a way that defied the Council, the Accord, the very nature of what you both were.
He held out his hand.
You took it.
Together, you walked into the dark—two monsters, two outlaws, two notes in a harmony that would either save the world or destroy it.
And somewhere behind you, in the ashes of the hunters, a phone began to ring. The Council, calling to report failure. Calling to plan the next move.
Let them plan, you thought, as Remmick led you down into the tunnels. Let them prepare.
The music was coming for them.
And it didn't know mercy.
The neutral ground didn't look like much.
You'd been driving for fourteen hours—Remmick behind the wheel of a stolen Tesla he'd hotwired with disturbing ease, you drifting in and out of sleep in the passenger seat.
The car smelled like leather and his cologne, and every time you stirred, his hand found your knee, your shoulder, your hair.
Checking. Reassuring himself you were still there.
Still singing.
"We're close," he said as the sun began to rise. He'd borrowed a driver's cap and sunglasses from somewhere, enough coverage that the dawn wouldn't burn him. "The old roads don't appear on GPS. I have to navigate by memory."
"How old is this place?"
"Older than the Council. Older than the written word." His voice had gone quiet, reverent. "The first agreement between our kinds wasn't signed in ink. It was carved in stone. In blood that still hasn't dried."
You didn't ask what that meant. You weren't sure you wanted to know.
The road turned to dirt, then to gravel, then to something that might have been a path centuries ago. Trees closed in—ancient oaks that predated the colonies, their branches weaving a canopy so thick the morning light came through in scattered coins.
The car died.
Not stalled. Died. The dashboard went black, the engine silent, and the doors unlocked with a sound like a sigh.
"She knows we're here," Remmick said.
"She?"
He didn't answer.
Just opened his door—exposing himself to the filtered sunlight without flinching—and came around to yours. When he offered his hand, you took it. His palm was cool. Steady.
The forest swallowed you.
You walked for what felt like hours but might have been minutes. Time moved strangely here, elastic and subjective.
Your heartbeat seemed loud in the silence, the only percussion in a symphony of whispering leaves.
Then the trees opened.
A clearing.
Perfectly circular, as if drawn with a compass.
In the center stood a structure that hurt to look at—not because it was bright, but because it was wrong. Stone that shifted between gray and white and something translucent. Architecture that seemed to move when you weren't looking directly at it.
And on the steps, waiting, was a woman.
She looked human. At first.
Dark hair, dark skin, dressed in something simple and white that might have been linen or might have been woven moonlight. But when she raised her head, you saw her eyes.
They had no whites. No pupils. Just irises—violet, impossibly vivid, swirling with patterns that made you think of galaxies, of nebulas, of the birth and death of stars.
"Remmick of the Northern Court," she said, and her voice was three voices, five, a chorus. "You bring music to my silence."
"Siren," he said, and dropped to one knee.
Not the theatrical gesture he'd used with you—something deeper. Older. The supplication of a creature facing its origin myth.
"Stand, child," the woman said. "I am not your goddess. I am only what remains."
He stood, but kept you behind him. Protective even here, even now.
"You know why we came," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I know why you came." Her violet eyes—those terrible, beautiful eyes—fixed on you. "But she does not know herself. Do you, little one?"
Your throat went dry. "I'm… I'm a Siren. Remmick told me. My blood sings, and vampires can hear it, and the Council wants to kill me for what I am."
"Yes," the woman agreed. "And no."
She descended the steps. She moved wrong—too smooth, joints bending in directions that shouldn't be possible. When she reached the grass, you saw that her feet weren't touching it. She hovered, barely, suspended by something invisible.
"You are not merely a Siren," she said, stopping an arm's length away. Close enough that you could smell her—ozone and petrichor and something that reminded you, viscerally, of Remmick's bedroom. "You are the next Siren. The evolution. The reason my children were exterminated."
"I don't understand."
"No. You do not." She reached out, and before Remmick could intervene, touched your face.
The world unmade itself.
You stood in a different forest.
Ancient, primal, the trees so tall they scraped the belly of heaven. Around you, figures moved—humans, but wrong somehow, their shadows too dark, their movements too synchronized. They danced around a pyre, and on the pyre burned bodies.
My sisters, a voice whispered. My brothers. The first Sirens, who sang vampires to their knees and made them worship.
The scene shifted.
You saw the Council—younger then, hungrier, wearing robes instead of suits. They moved through villages with blades of silver and holy water, executing anyone whose blood sang. The genocide Remmick had described, but worse. So much worse.
They feared what we could do, the voice continued. The control we had. So they made examples. They wrote laws. They reduced us to myth, to legend, to bedtime stories told to frighten fledglings.
Another shift.
You saw this clearing, this impossible structure, but whole and shining. A woman stood in the doorway—this woman, but more. More real. More alive. She held a child in her arms, a baby with violet eyes that hadn't yet learned to hide their nature.
I was the last. The only one who escaped. I took my daughter and I ran, and I ran, and when there was nowhere left to run, I made a bargain.
"What bargain?" you whispered.
The vision shuddered.
You saw the structure being built, stone by impossible stone. Saw this woman standing in the center of the clearing, arms raised, as vampires and humans alike bowed before her. Not as subjects. As witnesses.
I became the Agreement. The space between. The neutral ground where your Council and your coalitions meet. She turned to face you in the vision, and her eyes were weeping blood. I am the Treaty of 1987. I am every accord, every contract, every binding word spoken between our kinds. I am not alive, little one. I am the magic that keeps your world from burning.
The vision released you.
You gasped, stumbling back into Remmick's arms. The clearing snapped back into focus—the modern trees, the impossible structure, the woman standing before you with her galaxy eyes and her floating feet.
"You became the magic," you breathed.
"I became the cage," she corrected. "And for three hundred years, I have waited. For the bloodline to continue. For the song to return."
"Why me? I'm nobody. I'm just a journalist with student loan."
The woman—the First Siren, your mind supplied, the Agreement made flesh—smiled.
It was terrible. It was tender.
"Because you are what I was," she said. "Before the power. Before the worship. You are a Siren who does not know her own strength. Who loves a vampire not because he is enthralled, but because he is worthy." She looked at Remmick, and something like recognition passed between them. "You chose him freely. That has never happened. In all the centuries, the Sirens controlled. They commanded. They never… loved."
"I don't—" you started.
"Don't lie," she interrupted, gently. "Not here. Not to me. I am the truth between species. I know your heart better than you do."
Remmick's arms tightened around you. "What do you want with her?"
"Want?" The First Siren laughed, and the sound was thunder, was rainfall, was the first note of a song that had ended before language existed. "I want her to succeed me."
Silence.
"No," Remmick said, immediate and absolute.
"It is not your choice, child of darkness."
"It is her choice," he snarled, and you heard the predator in his voice, the thing that had torn through Council hunters without mercy. "And I will kill anyone who tries to take her from me. Even you. Even the ground we stand on."
The First Siren studied him. "You would die for her?"
"I would unmake myself for her. I would burn the sun and drown the moon. I would—"
"Stop," you whispered.
He stopped. Looked down at you with those ancient eyes, and you saw fear there.
Real fear.
Not of death. Of loss.
"Let me understand," you said, turning back to the First Siren. "You want me to become… what? A building? A treaty? A disembodied concept?"
"I want you to become the next Agreement," she said. "The old magic fades. The Council grows bold. Your Remmick slaughtered their hunters, and they will not forgive that. War is coming. The only thing that can stop it is a Siren powerful enough to enforce a new Accord. A Siren who loves a vampire. Who understands both sides."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you die," she said simply. "As I did. As my children did. The Council will find you, and they will burn you, and your Remmick will burn beside you, trying to protect what cannot be protected."
You thought of the kitchen. The blood. The way he'd looked at you like you were music made flesh.
"How long do I have to decide?"
"Sunset," she said. "The magic requires the threshold between day and night. Between human and vampire. Between what you were and what you will become."
She turned, began floating back toward the impossible structure.
"One more thing," she said, pausing at the steps. "The transformation is not painless. You will feel every death I felt. Every burning. Every betrayal. You will carry the weight of three hundred years of treaty and truce. And you will lose something."
"What?"
"Your song," she said, not turning. "The music he hears in your blood? It will go silent. To become the Agreement, you must become… agreeable. Neutral. You will no longer enthrall. You will no longer captivate. You will simply… be."
She disappeared into the structure. The door—if it had been open—was now closed. Solid stone.
You stood in Remmick's arms, in the clearing where the first treaties were signed, and felt your heart beating its desperate rhythm against your ribs.
The music he loved. The song that had drawn him to you, that had made him protect you, that had turned a self-interested celebrity into a warrior.
Gone.
"Don't," he whispered against your hair. "Don't even consider it. We'll run. We'll fight. I'll kill every Council member one by one until they leave us alone."
"And how many will die in the meantime?" you asked. "How many wars? How many Sirens they find later, kill later?"
"I don't care about them. I care about you."
"And if I become this thing?" You turned in his arms, faced him. "If I become powerful enough to stop the wars, to rewrite the Accords, to make a world where we don't have to run?"
His face crumpled. Just for a moment—the mask slipping, the ancient predator becoming desperately, humanly afraid.
"Then I lose you," he said. "Not your life. But you. The you who looks at me like I'm worth something. The you whose blood sings B-flat minor when you're annoyed. The you I—"
He stopped.
"The you I what?" you whispered.
He kissed you.
Hard and desperate. Like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of your breath, the exact frequency of your heartbeat.
"I love you," he said against your lips. "I have loved you since the interview. Since you sat across from me with your little recorder and your professional smile and your heart beating seventy-eight times per minute. I have loved you through three weeks of hiding, through slaughter, through the certainty that I will destroy the world before I let them take you. And I will not—" his voice broke, "—I will not trade that for peace. I am too selfish. I have always been too selfish."
You touched his face. The sharp cheekbones. The mouth that had worshipped you and killed for you.
"What if," you said slowly, "there's another way?"
"What?"
"The First Siren became the Agreement because she had no other choice. She was the last. Alone. But I'm not." You took his hand, pressed it to your chest, over your heart. "I have you. I have whatever this is between us. What if… what if we became the Agreement together?"
His eyes widened.
"Two signatures," you continued, thinking aloud. "The treaties were always signed by representatives. Vampire and human. What if the new Agreement requires the same? A Siren and her… whatever you are."
"Her victim?" he asked, wry and broken.
"Her partner," you corrected. "The one who hears her song. The one who chose to be enthralled."
"She said the transformation requires neutrality. That you would lose the music."
"She said I would lose it. But what if it's not in me anymore? What if I give it to you?"
You didn't know where the idea came from. The clearing, maybe. The old magic that lived in the soil, in the stones, in the space between species. But you felt it, suddenly and certainly—the shape of a bargain that had never been made before.
"Remmick," you said, and your voice sounded different. Resonant. Like the First Siren's chorus, but singular. Distinct. "Do you trust me?"
"With everything," he said, without hesitation. "With my life. With my death. With whatever comes after."
"Then kiss me," you said. "And don't stop until the sun sets."
He didn't ask why. He just obeyed.
The kiss was different.
You'd kissed him before—desperate kisses in the kitchen, hungry kisses in the bedroom, tender kisses in the stolen moments between. But this was something else. This was transmission.
You gave him the music.
You felt it leaving you—not painfully, but completely. The frequency that lived in your blood, the melody that had drawn him to you, the song that had made you special. You poured it into him through the kiss, through the connection, through the bond that had formed in three weeks of danger and desire.
And he took it.
Not stole. Received. His body went rigid, then soft, and when he pulled back, his eyes were glowing. Amber and gold, the pupils blown wide, and you heard it—the faintest echo of your heartbeat coming from his chest.
"What did you do?" he breathed.
"What she couldn't," you said. "I shared."
The clearing erupted in light.
The First Siren exploded from the structure, screaming, but not in anger—in recognition. In awe. The violet of her eyes bleeding into the sky, into the stones, into everything.
"You split the song," she gasped, floating toward you with hands outstretched. "You made it… reciprocal. Shared."
"Can it work?" you asked.
She looked at you. At Remmick, glowing with your heartbeat. At the bond between you, visible now as a silver thread that pulsed with rhythm.
"It has never been tried," she admitted. "But the magic… the magic recognizes it. The Agreement requires two signatures. You have given him yours. He has given you… what?"
"His death," Remmick said, understanding dawning. "His endlessness. I am vampire. I do not age, do not die unless killed. I give her that. She gives me her song. We are…"
"Balanced," the First Siren whispered. "Equal. The first true partnership between Siren and vampire since the beginning."
"Will it stop the Council?" you asked.
"It will rewrite them," she said, and smiled—that terrible, tender smile. "The new Agreement requires consent. Mutual exchange. No more enthrallment. No more control. Just… choice. Freely given. Eternally binding."
She looked at the sky. The sun was sinking, bleeding gold and crimson across the horizon.
"Decide now," she said. "Together. Become the new treaty, or run, and let the old world burn."
You looked at Remmick. At the glow in his eyes that was your heartbeat. At the man who had killed for you, who had offered to die for you, who had somehow become the only thing that mattered.
"Together?" you asked him.
"Always," he promised.
You kissed him again as the sun set, and the magic took you both.
It didn't hurt.
That was the surprise. You'd expected pain—fire, ash, the deaths of three hundred years. But this was different. This was joining.
You felt him in your veins. His endlessness. His hunger. His love, vast and ancient and yours in a way that nothing had ever been yours before.
And he felt you in his. Your mortality, yes, but also your vitality. Your song, now living in his chest, beating with his silent heart. Your love, new and fierce and overwhelming.
The First Siren watched, weeping violet tears, as the magic wove around you. The clearing grew bright, then brighter, then blinding—and when the light faded, you were different.
You stood in the center of the circle, holding Remmick's hand, and you felt the weight of it. The Accords. The treaties. The fragile peace between species.
But you also felt him. His presence, constant and warm, a tether that anchored you to yourself.
"It is done," the First Siren said, and her voice was only one voice now. Tired. Relieved. "The new Agreement is signed. The Council will feel it. They will know."
"What happens now?" Remmick asked. His voice resonated—your song, giving him depth he'd never had.
"Now," she said, beginning to fade, her form becoming translucent, becoming part of the clearing itself, "you enforce it. Together. As long as you both choose to remain."
She looked at you one last time.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For giving me… an ending."
Then she was gone. The structure crumbled—not destroyed, but released. The magic that had sustained it for centuries, now freed to become something new.
You stood in the forest, holding hands with a vampire who carried your heartbeat, and felt the world shift around you.
The Council would come. The wars would try to start. But now, now you had the power to stop them.
Not alone.
Never alone.
Remmick turned to you, eyes still glowing with your song, and smiled.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
You considered. Felt the weight of treaties, the warmth of his presence, the endless potential of what came next.
"Like music," you said. "Finally where it's supposed to be."
He kissed you, and for the first time in three hundred years, the forest sang back.
"Can you feel it?" he growled against your lips, his hands already working at the buttons of your shirt with desperate precision. "Can you feel how alive you make me?"
You could.
Through the bond, through the silver thread that now connected you permanently, you could feel him—his arousal like a thunderstorm building, ancient and electric, and beneath it something new: your own heartbeat echoing in his chest, amplifying everything.
"The forest," you managed, though your own hands were already tearing at his clothes, needing skin, needing contact, needing the proof that you were both still here, still real, still yours.
"Let them watch," he snarled, and shoved you back against the ancient oak at the clearing's edge.
The bark was rough against your bare back as he stripped you efficiently, worshipfully, his mouth following every exposed inch of skin with lips and teeth and tongue.
When he reached your throat, he paused—hovering, breathing you in even though the act was unnecessary.
"Say it," he demanded, his eyes glowing amber in the twilight, pupils blown wide with desire.
"Take me," you whispered, arching into him. "Drink me. Feed."
He struck.
The pain was sharp, exquisite, a bright flare that dissolved instantly into pleasure as his venom hit your bloodstream.
But this was different than before—through the bond, you felt what he felt: the taste of your blood, rich and singing with the treaty-magic, flooding his mouth, and beneath it the overwhelming ecstasy of the connection, the intimacy, the rightness of it.
You cried out, your body bucking against his as he drank, his hands holding your hips steady, pinning you to the tree while he fed.
Each pull of his mouth sent shockwaves through the bond—his pleasure becoming yours, your arousal feeding back into him in an endless loop.
"More," you gasped, tangling your fingers in his hair, holding him to your throat. "God, Remmick, more."
He growled against your skin, the vibration traveling straight to your core, and you felt him hard and desperate against your thigh. You reached between you, wrapping your hand around him, and he shuddered so violently he had to release your throat just to keep standing.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough, his lips stained with your blood. "Look at what you do to me."
You looked—at his face, transformed by need, at his body, pale and perfect and yours, at the place where your hand moved on him, the evidence of his desire slick and hot against your palm.
"I want you inside me," you said, and it wasn't a request. It was a demand. A claim. "Now. While you can still taste me."
He lifted you as if you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist, and then he was pushing into you—slow, agonizingly slow, giving you time to feel every inch, to adjust to his size, to the overwhelming fullness.
The bond exploded.
You felt it from both sides—your body's stretch and acceptance, his desperate relief at being sheathed in your heat, the way your muscles fluttered around him and the way he throbbed in response.
You were drowning in sensation, unable to tell where you ended and he began, your pleasure and his tangling together into something that transcended either alone.
"Move," you begged, your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to draw blood. "Please, Remmick, move."
He started slow—controlled, deliberate strokes that hit exactly where you needed, grinding against you with each thrust until you were sobbing with pleasure.
But the bond demanded more.
The treaty-magic in your blood sang for completion, for the full joining of what you had become.
"Harder," you demanded, biting his shoulder, tasting the copper of his ancient blood. "Don't hold back. Not with me. Never with me."
Something snapped in him.
He snarled—truly snarled, the sound inhuman and feral—and began to drive into you with a force that should have hurt, that would have hurt if the pleasure hadn't been so overwhelming, if the bond hadn't been transmitting his reverence along with his violence.
The tree shook with each impact.
Your head fell back, throat exposed, and he dove for it again—biting, feeding, taking—while his hips pistoned against yours, relentless, merciless, perfect.
You were climbing fast, impossibly fast, the pleasure building through the bond like a feedback loop.
Every time he thrust, you felt his pleasure at your tightness; every time you clenched around him, he felt your ecstasy at being filled.
It was too much, too intense, a white-hot coil tightening in your belly that had no ceiling, no limit.
"Come for me," he commanded against your bloody throat, his voice barely recognizable. "Let me feel it. Let me feel you break."
You shattered.
The orgasm crashed through you with the force of the treaty-magic itself, your body convulsing around him, your scream echoing through the forest as wave after wave of pleasure tore through you.
And through the bond, he felt it all—your release triggered his own, his hips stuttering as he spilled into you with a roar that shook the leaves from the trees.
But he didn't stop.
Couldn't stop.
The blood, the bond, the magic—it demanded more.
He kept moving, slower now, drawing out your orgasm until you were weeping with it, until you were sensitive and overwhelmed and still desperate for more.
"Again," he whispered, licking the wounds on your throat closed, his hips rolling in a rhythm that matched the heartbeat in his chest—your heartbeat, shared between you. "Give me everything. I'll give you eternity."
He shifted his angle, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision white out, and his hand found you where you were joined, his thumb pressing exactly where you needed—
You came again, harder this time, your body bowing against his as the pleasure crested and broke and crested again. He followed you over the edge, his fangs sinking into his own lip as he fought to stay quiet, to maintain some semblance of control.
But you didn't want control.
You wanted him.
You pulled his face to yours, kissing him messily, tasting your blood on his tongue, feeling his still-hard inside you and the aftershocks that rippled through you both.
"Don't stop," you breathed against his mouth. "Don't ever stop."
He didn't.
He carried you to the soft grass at the clearing's center, laying you down among the violet petals that had fallen from the First Siren's departure.
The treaty stones hummed beneath you, amplifying everything, making your skin feel electrified, every touch magnified tenfold.
He entered you again, slowly this time, watching your face as he filled you, his glowing eyes tracking every expression, every gasp, every flutter of your lashes.
"Beautiful," he murmured, starting to move with long, deep strokes that made you moan helplessly. "My Siren.. My heart."
You reached up, tracing the sharp lines of his face, feeling the bond pulse between you like a living thing.
"Yours," you agreed, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him deeper. "Always yours. Just like you're mine."
He bent his head, finding your throat again, but this time he didn't bite—he kissed, licked, sucked marks into your skin that you knew would last for days, claiming you in ways that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with devotion.
"I love you," he said, the words torn from him as he increased his pace, chasing another peak. "I love you, I love you, I—"
You silenced him with a kiss, your tongue tangling with his, your bodies moving together in a rhythm that was older than the forest, older than the Council, as old as the first spark of desire between predator and prey.
The third time you came together, it was slower, deeper, a wave that built and built until it finally, gloriously crashed, carrying you both into darkness and light and the endless space between.
After, you lay tangled in the grass, your head on his chest, listening to your own heartbeat echoing back at you from his ribs. He stroked your hair with languid fingers, his other hand tracing patterns on your hip—protective, possessive, reverent.
"The Council will come," he said softly, but there was no fear in his voice anymore. Only certainty.
"Let them," you murmured, pressing a kiss to his cool skin. "We have an Accord now."
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and into your cheek. "We have more than that."
You looked up at him, at the amber glow that still lingered in his eyes, at the love written plainly across his ancient face.
"We have forever," you agreed.
And as the stars emerged above the clearing where the first treaties had been signed, you made a new promise—sealed in blood and pleasure and the kind of love that could rewrite the world.
The music, you realized, hadn't stopped.
It had simply become the soundtrack to your eternity.
END PART TWO
A/N: Probably my greatest work to date, honestly. This took me weeks to edit, rewrite, and finally get to a place where i was happy with it. I also did an insane amount of research for this, which made the process even longer, but it was 100% worth it.
Sirens have always been one of my favorite mythical creatures, so getting to pair one with Remmick was genuinely a dream. The idea actually came to me while i was rewatching Twilight and thinking about how bella's blood is treated as something uniquely irresistible to other vampires. from there, I started wondering what that kind of concept would look like in Remmick's world.
The blood accord was also inspired by different vampire media, but I made sure to rework the idea and build it into something that felt like it belonged to this story rather than simply borrowing it. I wanted to take those inspirations and turn them into something that was my own.
Also, the GIFs i've attached for both parts are pretty much exactly how I envisioned Remmick while writing this. I can't explain it, but his long, dark hair in Tulip Fever absolutely does something to me... it's so ridiculously attractive that i couldn't stop picturing him like that the entire time.
I really poured my heart into this one, so i hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed creating it. <3
MASTERLIST
Persuation
Remmick x Reader
Rem shows you what admiration and care feels like, even if it is only for one night. Or is it.
Warnings: Smutttt. Abuse (not by Rem ofc). unprotected sex. oral. saliva play. fingering. idkk if i missed anything so, yeah!
You cry silently as you watch your so called “husband” swing open the door not even batting an eye back at you as you crumble your body down onto the floor, feeling frail and helpless to the unnecessary abuse he has just put you through.
The door slams shut and you hear his footsteps heavily stomping on the stairs and eventually the car starts up. He’s going to the bar, again, as he does every night then comes back to rain down his anger and frustrations on you. The kind you’d hoped and figured the alcohol he drank would fix and numb, but it never did. You still had to feel his fist against you, smelling the wave of liquor coming towards your face as it had coated his rough cruel hands.
When you were sure he was good and gone, you crawled over to the door reaching one shivering hand up from your hands and knees to the handle swinging the door open. You sat against the wall, the breeze of the cool Mississippi night slightly blowing along your left shoulder as you waited, for him.
“Hey, Darlin’. You miss me?”
Remmick. Came every night now for the past 2 months to join you, sitting on the opposite side of the wall. you inside, him out. You both never went into each other’s domains.
“I’m married Rem. I’m…I’m married”, you said with the intent of unseriousness, but you had the same beaten expression on your face.
“To that husb-, forgive me, that monster. let me give you what I know you need, what you want my love. And let me have you. Please. I beg of you darlin’.
You slid yourself over to the middle of the door looking at him sitting against the wall with his head tilted back resting against it. He turned it in that same position to look at you. You saw the predatorial hunger in his eyes intertwined with the love, want, and desire he spoke so dearly of. You needed him. Needed his love, but mostly importantly, his touch.
You stood up and he did the same, realizing he probably saw that look of change in your eyes after 2 months of denying his entry and you refusing to exist.
“C…come in”
A smirk grew across his face as he slowly entered the house, the floorboards creaking and your heart beating.
“I knew you were bound give in t’me darlin’, so beautiful and lovely for me.”
He was gentle with you as his hands slowly wrapped around your waist, nothing like the way your husband put his hands on you. His face was hungry, but he didn’t look to bite you in the way he wanted with his “victims”. Your lips collided with his, feeling his fangs on your tongue which eventually led to his right hand making its way up your body grasping lightly on your neck to get a better grip on you. It felt like he was scared to lose you if he wasn’t holding on tight enough, but you surely weren’t going anywhere.
You were into the heat of the moment knowing what you wanted this to lead to, and it would end in him being inside of you. That’s when he felt his suspenders being tugged at by you.
“I need you, all of you darlin’.
“Take it off”, you said speaking before thinking.
He quickly pulled down the straps of his suspenders dropping his pants, while at the same time you pulled up your night gown revealing your white laced panties.
This was it for him.
“Fuck~ you got me all flustered…now let me have you”
He picked you up hoisting you over his shoulder bringing you to the bedroom and slamming you down on the bed.
“let’s see what you can handle darlin’”
You sit up on your elbows watching him fully remove his pants leaving his half-buttoned shirt and his underwear concealing what was gonna make all those days of abuse worth the wait.
It flings out, his thick, long cock hard since you had stood up at the door. He plays with the light pink tip watching your mouth fall open ready to take his length in your mouth, then in your cunt. You crawl towards him wrapping your mouth around him as you hear him already submitting himself to your actions.
“d…darlin’…fuck, please keep going~”
You look up at him in a, “am I doing a good job baby” kind of way with tears swelling up in your eyes from his length hitting the back of your throat.
“Lay down on your back f’me”
You did as he said and watched him gather himself back up prepared to now really fuck you. His cock lathered up in your spit but soon to be lather in your secretion. He put his tip at the entrance of your cunt every so gently being wrapped by the flesh of your folds that were already wet for him.
He pushed inside of you making you wrap your cunt around his cock while he let out small whimpers of pleasure and ecstasy, and when you thought he would stop going in, he was able to push further.
“Oh darlin’, this is better than I could’ve imagined. Are you doing, ok?”
Slowly he moves back and forth rocking the wooden bedframe to what it sounds like its breaking point.
“faster”, you say in desperation needing to feel more of him.
He grabs your neck to get a better grip before absolutely railing into you, breathing loudly, moaning intently, and whimpering things like:
“mmph darlin’ you gonna make me finish already. Now open up that pretty mouth of yours f’me, will ya”
You slightly gape your mouth open for him gasping at the sudden feel of his 2 thick digits ramming into your mouth.
“Suck”
Saliva coated his digits as you continued to suck using your tongue to dance around them while wondering why he wanted you to do that. Was it a sort of kink that he was into? You weren’t completely opposed to it though; it felt good submitting to him. he pulled his fingers out, drops of your saliva dripping down from his fingers onto your chest and stomach as he moved that hand down to your cunt hooking them in you. They squirmed back and forth, stuffing you along with his cock that was still fucking you relentlessly.
“Yea, you like that huh? You like being full of me; like when I make you feel pleasure you’ve never felt before.”
Rem watched as you gripped the bed sheets looking vulnerable, he could tell you were near the edge.
“R…Rem…I…I”
“I know darlin’ I’ll let you finish in a sec since you’ve been so good t’me.”
He went faster changing the movements of his fingers and cock making your legs shake. Your body tensed and you shivered, slightly closing your legs embraced and completely taken over by your ecstasy of an orgasm.
At the same time, Rem quickly pulls out wanting to finish in you, but he knows he can’t, he can’t get you pregnant, at least not with your bastard of a husband around. His release shoots out as he decides to come on your stomach instead, but his digits remained inside continuing to be coated more, and more by your slick cunt.
He groaned, pulling his fingers out of you bringing them up to his mouth to taste what he made you produce.
“Mmph…so sweet for me baby. Everything about you seems to be sweet and ready for me”
You scooted further back into the bed where he followed eventually ending up with his arms fully engulfing you into his loving hold.
His cock still twitched as he currently reminisced what you both had just done; and what you’re doing now, the feeling of you in his arms, in his possession.
“Look at you darlin’, all mine”
Suddenly a loud noise could be heard outside, a car door.
“Shit, that’s him ain’t it
“Yep”, you said heavily frustrated
Rem hurriedly gathered his clothes, putting them on as you watch wishing he didn’t have to cover back up his chest, or the bulge of his cock through his underwear.
you guided him out the back door when he turned to kiss you, passionately, happy about how you change for him tonight.
“I’ll be here tomorrow darlin’, well, I guess you’ve already figured out that pattern. Stay outta trouble now, if you behave then I’ll give you a little somethin’ to say good job when I see you”
Your eyes glistened in the moonlight as he left into the night. You continued to stand there wishing he would already return to again show you what his love looks like.
________________________________________________________________
This is my first post so please lmk what i need to improve on!
In the middle of reading a fic that was clearly labeled as x reader and tagged only as x reader and I'm hit with "by your brown eyes" I'm sorry...am I wearing contacts or something?
A mostly self indulgent little thing because I had a plot bunny early this morning that would not leave…
Notes: 18+mdni, explicit, older!knight Remmick x submissive male reader, riding, drool, anal sex, monsterfucking, teratophilia, mention of knotting, implications of free use, Remmick is a lazy fuck in his downtime, vampire drool as an aphrodisiac
The credit goes to: @thlaylisden for knight!Remmick and the silver Fox that is old knight!Remmick.❤️
Remmick is more than willing to just lie back and let you show him how much you love his dick. While you hop like a bunny on it, he gets a perfect view of himself sliding in and out of your perfect hole. "Tha's a good lad." He purrs as his gaze flicks up your face.
"Look at y'. Feels good doesn't it?" He asks as he lifts his hips up to give you the sensation of him dragging along your inner walls. Letting you feel every ridge and every vein of him. How deep he is inside your guts. "So good." You respond in a cockdrunk slur which makes a laugh rumble in his chest.
"Thought so. Feels so good y'll let me bend y' over anytime I want." And he knows you'll be more than willing. Wether it be in his chambers, out in the stables, or even in the dining hall in view of the servants. But he wouldn't let just anyone witness what was his.
There's drool running from the corners of his mouth. He's already fed you a good amount of it. Made all the sensations feel so much better. One of his hands moves from behind his head to absently scratch at his belly. He could watch you do this all day and night.
Though wether your body could last that long was doubtful.
One of your bounces gets a bit too eager and he slips free. It's jarring feeling the cool air on his dick after being all warm and snug inside of you. He takes a hold of one of your hips to keep you still. The other lines himself back up with your hole. "Jus gonna slide back home." And then he sighs in contentment as your warmth envelops him again.
"Alright, little hare, jus' be a bit mindful of how high yer hoppin'. There y' go. Nice n' easy. This dick's not goin' anywhere. Knot's not even started swellin' yet." He sees your cock twitch at the mention of his knot. "Hm? Me lad wants my knot? "Well then, he'll just have to work for it."