#need to draw that in a way that doesnt violate tumble guidelines

[rhysroshalfile]

normal about this

washroom angel

fem!remmick x reader (18+ mdni)

on a routine bartending shift you find a butch in the alleyway and decide to take her home

author's note: hello fellow wlw remmick fans. happy pride month (even though it's almost over) enjoy this delicious little number brought to you by the cigarette i had earlier. big shout out to @rhysroshalfile because their femmick is quite literally the blueprint for this. grma enjoy! warnings: oral (fem recieving), penetration, strap-on, vibrators, drool, biting, hair pulling, sub and bottom remmick, remmick being stalkery (the usual)

You pour another drink for a waiting customer, smirking as she hands over a bill and compliments your makeup.

“Your girlfriend must love all that,” she jokes.

She’s an older butch. She has a strong chin and short hair and a tattoo on her bicep. 

“I haven’t got a girlfriend.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Sure is.”

Another dollar in the tip jar. 

“Thank you, love,” you chirp, making her grin at you. 

“Hi, gorgeous,” a familiar face greets you, sitting at a stool. 

“Hi, Lola,” you greet her back. “You want your usual?”

“Please, babe. I’m dyin’.”

You giggle and start to work on a cosmo.

The night continues, you serve more drinks and get more compliments. Other fem patrons ask where you got your boots or what brand of mascara you wear. 

“Wait, the makeup is so on,” a one with a pencil thin mustache and pink hair purrs.

“Thank you, love your hair,” you return, passing a hard seltzer over the bar. 

You wipe your hands on your apron. 

“I’m going for a smoke, Colm!” you call to the other bartender, an older gay man who wears one gold earring.

“Right, dear.”

You step out the back into the alley and light yourself a cigarette. Your lighter sparks, but doesn’t light. 

“Oh, come on,” you hiss, shaking it.

You try again and fail.

“Shit.”

You look around, trying to ignore the multiple couples kissing, or the blowjob occurring in the corner. You see a scrawny butch alone.

“Have you got a light?” you ask her. 

She flinches. 

“You scared me.” 

She’s Irish. 

“I’m sorry,” you coo sweetly. 

“I-I got a light.” 

She nods, producing a lighter from her pocket. She lights your cigarette and you watch her hands tremble. 

You take a puff, tasting that bitter smoke as it fills your lungs. You exhale away from her face.

“Thanks, love.”

You lean against the side of the building.

“So, where’s your girlfriend?” you tease, pointing at the dark alley.

“What?”

“Your girlfriend. Unless this was a one-time kinda thing.” 

“I-I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Well, this alley’s just for smoking and fucking, so if you’re not doing either, why are you out here and not inside?” 

“I was nervous,” she admits sheepishly. 

You know this type. The baby gays who put on their dad’s clothes and go out for the first time, and shake like leaves in the corner of the bar. Too scared to make moves. 

Her clothes definitely don’t fit, baggy trousers held up too high by a tight belt. 

“First time?” 

She swallows hard. 

“Yeah…”

You introduce yourself, offering your hand. She shakes it.

“I’m Remmick,” she says.

“Remmick,” you echo. “Did you give it to yourself?”

“I did.”

“Would you like to come in with me, Remmick? I’m the bartender. I’ll give you something really strong, shake those nerves off.”

Remmick nods, eyes wide as she stares at you. You’re the prettiest thing she’s ever seen. Your breasts barely contained by your strappy top and the black lace of your panties peeking over the top of your short skirt make her heart thump in her chest. 

You finish your cigarette and flick it on the ground, putting it out with the heel of your boot. The sight makes Remmick weak in the knees. 

Remmick sits at the end of the bar and you smile at her.

“You want a drink?”

“Yeah. I… um…”

She’s staring at you. You raise a brow expectantly.

“Why don’t you take a look behind me and I’ll come back, okay?”

She nods.

You look back down, helping someone else and peeking at Remmick as she fiddles with her hands. 

“What’s got your eye?” Lola asks. 

“The baby butch down there,” you say, pointing to the anxious thing at the end of the bar. “I found her in the alley.” 

“Found her?”

“Like a stray kitten.” 

“She is cute. She looks nervous.”

“First time, I think.”

“Well, you’re always so welcomin’ to the new girls,” she jokes.

You are. The bar owner had to institute a rule of one person in the employee washroom at a time because of you. 

Not that anyone pays attention to it. 

“I sure am,” you joke. “Do you want another?”

“I always do.”

You can sense that Remmick is wanting to ask you something, so you make Lola’s drink and set it down, then float down the bar to her.

“Can I just have a beer?”

“Sure.”

You crack open a cold bottle and push it to her. 

“Thanks,” she says, unable to meet your eyes.

“Yeah, sure. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?” you tell her, touching her arm. You can feel the muscle tense under your touch and you try not to laugh at her.

“I will. Thank- uh, thank you.” 

There is no way you’re leaving without her tonight. 

The night winds down, and more people leave. The bar that was previously hot, sweaty, and full of people dancing is now half-full but still hot. 

You glance over your shoulder and see Remmick’s finger under her collar, pulling at it.

“You can take your shirt off if you’re hot. Nobody cares.”

She goes red and shakes her head.

“I-I’m not hot.”

You give her a glass of ice water and she drinks it down quickly.

“You seem pretty hot to me.”

“I-I don’t have a shirt on under this…”

“I brought a shirt for the bus, you wanna wear that?”

She nods at you, dumbfounded as she watches you walk to the backroom and return with an oversized black tee you use to cover up on your commute home.

She unbuttons her shirt and pulls yours on in a swift motion, so you only get to see a glimpse of her pale skin and a black sports bra. You also see the glint of a chain around her neck. 

“My shift is almost over,” you tell her softly, leaning over the bar. Her eyes are obviously on your tits.

“Oh.”

“You got somewhere to stumble home to, Remmick?” 

“I’ll figure it out,” she mumbles.

“Yeah. Or… you could come home with me?” you offer, smirking at her.

She’s wide eyed, slack jawed, and tomato red as she blinks at you.

“You… really?”

“Mhm. I gotta go clock out and wash up and then we can go, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Great.”

You clock out in the office, fixing your hair in the tiny mirror before exiting with your purse around your body.

“Bye, Colm, bye Lola!” you call, grabbing Remmick’s hand and tugging her with you.

“I-I thought you said-”

“You can come with me.”

Lola laughs.

“She’s gonna eat that wee thing alive.” 

You enter the washroom and tug Remmick in, setting your duffel bag on the baby changing station. 

“A-are you sure you want me in here?”

“Don’t you wanna be?” you tease. You unzip your skirt and slip it off, pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

Remmick stares at your ass, trying to keep herself from drooling. You hold your hand out.

“You can give me my shirt or yours, up to you.”

Remmick pulls off the shirt she tied at her waist, handing it over. You put it on, finding it’s big on you, too. She was really swimming in it.

“Whose clothes are these? Your dad’s?”

“Does it matter?” she jokes lightly. You giggle and back her up against the wall, making her squirm.

“You are so cute,” you tell her, leaning in to kiss her. 

She kisses back enthusiastically, her hands flat on the wall. You hold her hips and squeeze lightly.

“You can touch me, love,” you purr in her ear, nipping at the lobe. 

She shivers and two shaky hands reach up to hold your waist.

You’re so warm. She can feel your blood pumping and the heat pulsating off of your body is addictive.

“You’re cold,” you tease, your pinky finger hooked in her waistband. 

“I-I won’t be if you keep going,” she urges. 

You scoff at that, slotting your knee between her legs. She groans against your mouth, keening for friction.

“Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” she squeaks. “Yes, yes, fuck…” 

You giggle at her, twirling a bronze curl around your finger.

She kisses at your neck, her teeth scraping against your skin. She has to keep her fangs from sliding out, gripping your waist tightly.

You feel her nails dig into your skin, teeth not biting– just ghosting the skin, hardly pressing in.

“Are you trying to bite my neck, you little vampire?” 

She almost faints at that. Your hand curls in her hair and tugs it back, making her moan. She covers her mouth, her fangs having slid out. 

“You can be loud.” 

“Sh-shouldn’t we go?” she pants out from behind her hand.

“Aw, but I really want to make you cum in your trousers,” you tease, pushing your thigh against her.

She shivers as you kiss the shell of her ear.

“I can settle for watching you squirm on the bus.”

She whimpers and you grab her other hand, taking her out of the bar as you walk to the bus stop. She insists on carrying your duffel to be a gentleman.

“But gentlemen don’t eat pussy,” you tease.

“N-no, I can do that,” she affirms eagerly. 

“Haven you eaten?” you ask, changing the subject.

Remmick doesn’t figure that out, shaking her head feverishly.

“There was food at the bar, if you were that hungry.”

“We’re… not still talkin’ about pussy?” she squeaks out. 

You hyena-laugh, and see someone walking a dog look over at you from across the street. 

“You can do that. But I’ll make you some dinner first.” 

You sit next to Remmick on the bus. She remains standing, holding the bar next to your seat. You would love to tug her into your lap and make her squeak again, but there are too many people on this bus. You tug her into the seat next to you instead, grinning.

She’s stiff and nervous, clutching your bag like she’ll float away if she lets go. 

“This is us, c’mon.” Remmick follows you out, the cold air hits her face as she continues behind you. She’s like a lost dog following you home, and you hold her hand when you get closer to your flat. You step into the building.

Remmick waits outside, nervously tapping her hand on your bag.

“Won’t you come in?” you joke, waving her in.

She takes a step in and you drag her up the stairs, all the way to the third floor. You count the doors until you get to yours, fishing your keys out of your purse and unlocking it to push it open. 

“Welcome to my beautiful home,” you joke, showing off your shitty flat. “Please make yourself at home.” 

She pads in behind you and hands over your bag.

“Thank you,” you chirp, kissing her cheek.

She’s beetroot again, which has you giggling.

“You can sit down, I’m gonna put something more comfortable on.”

Remmick watches you go into the bathroom and sits on your cozy sofa. There’s a blanket draped over the back she can tell was handmade. Your home isn’t messy, but it is full of little things that tell you about her. Posters of films and bands. Tapestries and art prints and string lights of Polaroids you and friends have taken. She wants to flip through your records and look through your bookshelf, to know everything about you. 

You come back out in a faded and oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, stretching your back. 

“I can lend you some shorts if you want to get out of those trousers. You’re drowning in them.”

She’s still wearing your shirt, she realises. She was just looking for someone to feed on in the alley and instead she got picked up by the scruff and taken home. She’s a ruthless predator and you’re treating her like a stray kitten. 

She blinks at you.

“Right. Erm… did you want to eat?”

“I-I’m not hungry,” she lies. 

Of course she is. She’s starving. 

“Are you sure?” you coo, putting a hand on her shoulder. 

Remmick winces.

“You can relax, I’m not gonna bite. Even though I know you want to bite me,” you tease her. 

“C-can we keep kissin’? Like in the washroom?” 

“Can we?”

She swallows as you lean down to hold her face in both hands.

“Yeah, this would make a pretty good seat,” you purr, tapping on the tip of her nose with your finger. 

In one swift motion, Remmick grabs your arm and tugs you down to the sofa, right on top of her. She kisses you again and you thread your fingers into her messy hair. You straddle her and her hands grip your hips, squeezing the soft flesh there.

“Let- let me… ngh, p-please-” 

She can hardly get her words out as you kiss her neck. She pushes at your hem too and you straighten your back, slowly pulling up the hem of your shirt.

“You wanna see ‘em?”

She nods wildly, like she might break her neck.

“Yeah?”

“Please, please… please, wanna k-kiss ‘em and squeeze ‘em, I-I’ll be so gentle, I promise,” she babbles as you drag the fabric up slowly and let your tits bounce into place.

She groans, hands sliding up your sides to squeeze at both of your breasts. 

“Y’so soft, love,” she murmurs against your skin. 

You hum, feeling her gentle touches become rougher when she pinches your nipple, making you jerk.

Your hand flies down and grabs that damn chain around her neck, yanking her upward. 

“Gentle,” you tut. 

She nods, swallowing as she does. 

“Please, c-can I… can I taste you, please?” 

“Beg a little more,” you command with a smirk, holding her chin. “It sounds so good.”

Remmick’s never had a girl like you. You’re cruel, but not overly. Still sweet and affectionate, and you clearly want her just as bad as she wants you. 

“Please, I-I’m dyin’ to taste you…”

She whimpers, pleading with her eyes. She cradles your hand, kissing your palm. 

“I’m so hungry,” she whines, kissing your fingertips and taking your thumb into her mouth. “I-I’ll make you cum, please, I’ll be so good…” 

You climb off of her and point to the carpeted floor, which she darts to, popping up on her knees. You settle on the edge of the sofa cushion and she quickly pulls down your shorts, leaving only your soaked panties. Remmick feels her own drool drip onto her knee and ignores it as she parts your thighs.

She makes something between a growl and a whine and lurches forward, licking you over the cotton on your cunt. She groans against you as she sucks on the gusset of your panties, her nails digging into the meat of your thighs.

You tug her back by the hair. She pants with her tongue still out like a dog. 

“I won’t tell you again to be gentle,” you say firmly. 

“Yes, love,” she agrees, wincing as she tries to move forward despite the tight grip on her hair. “Please- please, fuck, you taste so good!” 

You release her and in a blink she rips the black fabric down your legs with her teeth, spitting them out beside her.

She hooks your legs over her shoulders and kisses your hole, her nose brushing against your clit. She whines against you, the vibration making you jolt.

“Oh, fuck yes,” you sigh, back arching.

Remmick feels her fangs threatening to slide down and sucks on your clit, making you cry out. She pushes a finger inside of you, pumping it and moaning at how slick you are. She adds a second as her other hand goes to work undoing her belt and slipping into her trousers.

“Yeah… f-fuck… t-take my fingers so good,” she encourages weakly, rubbing over her own underwear.

Her tongue lavs at your clit as she pushes a finger inside of herself, making her puff out air. Her nose pushes against you and she licks noisily at the slick dripping down her fingers. Only it mixes with her drool and slowly slides down her wrist. 

“Fucking yourself while you eat my cunt, that’s class,” you tease her, giggling. “Taste that good?”

“So fuckin’ sweet,” she manages to say, lifting her head for a split second before returning to your cunt. 

“Fuck, Remmick,” you breathe. “D-don’t stop- fuck! Yes, yes, right there!”

You look down at her.

“Don’t you fuckin’ cum,” you threaten.

“Wh-why not?”

“You’re only cumming if I make you do it,” you tell her. 

She obediently pulls her hand away and you hold out a hand. She hesitates and gives you her hand. You take her two fingers in your mouth, licking between them to make her gasp and squirm. She keeps pumping her fingers in and out, and you match her pace, bobbing your head as you suck her fingers.

You inhale sharply and bite down on her fingers accidentally, making her yelp and pull her hand away. The mounting pressure in your abdomen bursts and you gush into Remmick’s waiting mouth. Her fangs are out but she doesn’t care, drinking up your nectar as she lazily pushes her fingers into you.

“So good,” she gurgles, slurping up your wetness. Her drool is part of the mess, and you’ve absolutely left a stain on the sofa. 

You tug her head back to get her off of your sensitive cunt and she quickly shuts her mouth, willing her fangs to slide back up.

“Wass’at good?” she asks, grinning at you.

“So good,” you praise her, stroking the side of her face. She pushes into your touch like a cat.

“Do you want more?” you offer.

“Please, I want you so bad,” she whines.

You lean forward and grab her face, squeezing her cheeks.

“Who’s on top?”

She makes a little noise and you give her a stern look.

“Remmick.” 

“Y-you,” she stammers out.

“I can’t hear you. Who’s on top?” 

“You, you,” she chants. “Fuck me, please, I’m beggin’ you…” 

You stand up on wobbly legs and lead her to your bedroom. 

“You should take your clothes off.”

She peels off your shirt, wet and sticky with drool and your juices, and tosses it behind her. Her sports bra follows and she shoves down her too-big-trousers.

You glance at her and laugh at her plain white men’s underwear.

“What?”

“Those too.” 

You dig in a box in your closet and produce your double strap, which is just an egg attached to a dildo that you hold in place with a harness. Remmick is intimidated by the size, shivering. You harness up and she drools at the sight of the black straps squeezing the soft skin of your ass and thighs. 

“You drool a lot,” you note as you shove her back onto the plush covers. 

“Fuck, how can I not?” she groans as you climb up and settle over her. 

You shove her legs apart and pin her down against the bed, grinding the strap against her. She squirms and huffs, trying to get more friction.

“Let me stretch you out, love,” you tell her, pushing in two fingers. She makes a choked noise as her head lolls to the side.

“That’s good, just breathe,” you encourage her softly. 

She needs you so bad, needs you inside of her. She needs your warm body over her so she can bite you already. 

“You ready for it, Remmick?”

She nods and pants, her arms covering her face as she tries not to bite her own arm.

“Fuck, please,” she cries, wrecked already.

You reach down and flick on the vibrations, shivering at the feeling. You slip into her and she moans, her voice cracking as she arches her back. 

“That’s it, fuck, look at you,” you praise her. She locks eyes with you, panting as you push in further. The two of you are skin to skin. Remmick’s leg hooks over your hip and you slide all the way in, your hips meeting hers. You stay like that, grinding your clit against the silicone. You tuck your face into her neck and she can’t take it anymore. 

She’s so hungry. 

Her lips brush your neck and her claws grow from her hands as she grabs the back of your hair and bites into your neck, snarling.

You gasp, thrashing to get away but she turns you over, rocking her hips as she drinks from your pulsing jugular. 

She pulls back, blood coating her mouth and chin, fangs pointed behind her lips. 

She whines, bringing herself up and down, bouncing on the strap as you feel your body tense up. It’s not another orgasm. You feel your teeth and your hands changing. It’s a painful, slow process, like growing pains in triple time. You cry out and Remmick puts a claw to her bloody lips.

“No, shh. Don’t cry,” she comforts you, still riding your strap. She takes your clawed hands and brings them to her waist.

“Ngh… y-you’ll be such a good bride. And I will too, I promise,” she says eagerly. She has a little lisp now with her fangs.

“Y-you’re all mine, please… I deserve this…”

She gasps as she grinds down, pushing the silicone against you. You twitch and she digs her claws into your shoulders. It hardly hurts though, but you can feel your own claws in her sides. In your sides. But they’re your claws.

She gasps and straightens up, twisting her body and whimpering.

You feel yourself right on the edge, but you’re already cumming, twitching and spasming around the egg inside of you. But you feel the strap. And you feel your own hands. 

“It’s s-so much to st-start,” Remmick tries to explain, trembling from her own orgasm. 

You easily lift her off of your strap and reach down to turn off the vibrations. You slip it out of you with a slick pop and Remmick curls up to your side, licking the wound on your neck.

“I-I’ve been watching you for weeks,” she admits. “You take girls home and they don’t say thank you or… or stay for breakfast. I wanted you to cook for me, but human food just… tastes so bland now. You’ll understand.”

She nuzzles into your neck, kissing your chin.

“I’ve wanted to be your bride for so long now,” she sighs.

You look at her. You feel her admiration for you, her lust and the way you make her giddy.

“See? Now you’re my bride… and we feel each other.”

She kisses you, smearing blood on your lips.

“Mo chroí… now we’re together forever.”