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bleedingsunlight · 1 day ago

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Paint Me Pretty

Remmick x Reader

Remmick asks you to paint a picture of him.

[★] Rated: Mature 18+

[★] Warnings: Afab Reader, grinding, drool, p in v sex, Semi forced orgasm, overstimulation, unprotected sex, Dom/Sub relationship, Blood kink.

Masterlist

©bleedingsunlight 2025.

Thank you to @jakecockley for beta reading this!

Do not copy or repost my work!!

The dying sun shines through the windows as it slowly bleeds into night, washing your living room in a pink and orange glow.

You hum a song that you can't remember the lyrics to—paint brush running over your canvas as you add the finishing touches.

Patiently adding stroke after stroke of paint.

The air is warm and soft—a light breeze lifts the curtains smelling of spring and petrichor from an earlier sprinkle of rain.

Heavy foot falls echo from the floor above—bringing a smile to your lips as you listen to Remmick coming down from the attic.

You face the stairs as he turns around the end of the banister.

He's shirtless— gold chain shining against his pale skin, his suspenders rest loose against his thighs—pants low and undone on his hip bones, half of his brunette hair sticks up from laying on a pillow.

He walks toward you, his bare feet thumping softly on the worn wooden floors.

"How'd you sleep, baby?"

You murmur softly as his sleep warmed body wraps around you.

A muffled grunt is all you get as Remmick burrows his face into your neck.

You run your fingers through his hair—tugging softly at the ones on his nape, pulling a deep sigh from him.

"Did ya paint somethin' new today?"

Remmick asks as he nuzzles you.

"Uh huh, wanna see?"

He nods moving his face from your neck to peek at the still drying canvas behind you.

On it was the sun.

The view out your front window, trees with sunlight shining through them, the beams reflecting off the pond he had dug for you last summer.

Remmick's breath caught in his throat—storm cloud eyes flickering over the scene he's seen so many times.

But in the morning instead of the night.

"S'Beautiful, darlin'. " He mutters in awe his eyes not straying from the canvas.

"Think you'll paint me one day?"

You smile softly as you reach up and gently guide his face to yours with your palm.

"Course baby, I would love to."

You press your lips against his tenderly—his hands pawing and kneading you softly, pulling at the button up you had stolen from him that morning.

Remmick hums contentedly against your lips—melting under your touch.

Flicking your tongue out to trace the edge of his lips, you suck the bottom one into your mouth to nibble gently.

His grip on you tightens as a soft moan escapes him—you take the opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth and twirl with his.

Remmick is glued to your front as you continue devouring him—his hips grind forward, and you can feel the warm hard outline of him pressed into your thighs.

He whines when you pull away from the kiss with a wet pop—his eyes looking up at you, half lidded and dazed.

"Why don't you help me with a painting today, handsome?"

Remmick's eyebrows quirk in confusion—lips parted allowing drool to drip in a steady flow down the side of his chin.

Stepping back completely—you unbutton the rest of the shirt letting it drop down your arms to the floor.

Despite your lack of clothing he grumbles displeased at the lack of contact—you reach for the needle you use to unclog your paint tubes.

His eyes follow it as you press it down harshly into your pointer finger—blood beading up quickly and dripping from the tiny but deep puncture.

Remmick's mouth drops open, more viscous fluid spilling as his tongue runs hungrily over his bottom lip—eyes blown and tinted crimson.

He followed your finger as you pressed in to your neck and painted a line to your cleavage.

"C-C'mon now, darlin', don' torture me like this." He exhales shakily as you continue your painting.

Remmick made a wounded noise—his glowing gaze flickering over your form like he doesn't know where to look.

You squeeze your finger to keep the blood flowing as your drag it down your belly— stopping right before the tangle of hair on your mons.

Biting your lip you drag it back up to circle your nibbles, gently tugging on the hard peaks and sighing a moan.

A thud pulls you from your teasing and you look up.

Or well, down.

Remmick was a mess.

On his knees—fangs glittering from behind his lips, drool running down his face and chest.

Remmick pants heavily as his pretty red eyes glow with hunger.

You can see the outline of him aching and twitching through his pants, all the blood in his body pooling to his cock.

He slowly crawled over to you—clawed hands scrapping over the floor as he came to a halt.

His head came up directly infront of your dripping heat.

With a sharp inhale Remmick moaned— deep and desperate.

You smile slowly with a questioning hum.

"Please lemme clean you up f-fuck—smell so delicious I-I have'ta taste you"

You shake your head—teasingly running your finger down his lips.

His tongue darts out to taste it—you pull away before he can.

"Beg."

Remmick licks the smudge of your blood off his lips with a tortured moan.

"Please, Mo chuisle—I'll be s'good fer ye, promise ta make ye feel so fuckin' good— jus' lemme taste."

His irish brogue slips out from under the fake southern in his desperation.

Taking him by the hair you guide him to the trail on blood drying on your skin.

He falls into you—open mouthed and desperate.

Remmick's tongue messily cleans the blood off your stomach with a broken moan.

Pink tinted drool drips down your skin as he slowly made his way from his knees to standing.

He licks under your breasts—looking up at you with an unspoken question.

"Go ahead, baby."

He swallows your nipple with a whimper—his tongue swirling wet and hot around it.

Each soft pull sends pleasure hot and fierce to your clit.

His fingers slide up to play with the other one.

"Don' want ta pick favorites." He murmers, pulling off to give the same treatment to the other.

You sigh in pleasure—running your fingers through Remmick's hair.

"Good boy."

With a wet pop—he abandons your nipples in favor of your neck.

Kissing and licking his way to the sensitive spot between your ear and shoulder.

Remmick's fangs graze your pulse—the sharp points poised to pierce the moment you let him.

"P-please."

You say nothing—just tilt your head further to the side.

With a low feral growl that vibrates your bones—he bites down.

Getting bitten never feels the way you expect, it's not a blinding pain tearing white hot through your veins.

It's more like a warm throbbing pulse—heavy and deep.

Remmick moans between measured gulps, always careful to never take too much.

His hands grip the soft flesh of your hips—grinding his fabric covered cock into you with desperate jerky motions.

Once you feel he's taken enough—you tug his hair.

He releases your neck—licking lovingly over the puncture wounds.

Reaching down—you tug at his pants.

"Take these off for me."

Remmick scrambles to follow your order—almost tripping over his pants as he pulls his feet out.

Once bare, he stands in front of you—letting you look at him.

His cock curves upward—nestled in a mess of curls, angry red and weeping.

You run a nail along the pulsing vein that runs from tip to base.

His hips twitch forward with a soft moan of your name.

Grabbing his hand, you guide him to the soft couch in the living room—laying down on it with your legs spread wide.

Remmick stands between your legs—cock pulsing where it lays over your glistening cunt.

His eyes bore into yours—the same color as the blood dripping from his mouth.

You press your hips up, rolling them in a way that parts your folds against him.

The weeping head of his cock rubbing over your clit—enough to cause a shiver down your spine.

Remmick moans low and needy—grabbing your thighs for leverage as he takes over.

Thrusting against you with desperate swivels.

He stares are where the two of you meet—watching as the both of you get sticky with the mix of your wetness and his pre cum.

Entranced by the way your cunt opens to let him glide between your folds.

You bite your lip, moaning softly as you feel the build-up starting.

The heavy pull in your stomach getting tighter with each drag over your twitching clit.

Grabbing him by the face, you pull him into a kiss—licking and biting his blood coated lips.

Remmick groans into your mouth—hips stuttering in their rhythm

"Feels s'good," He whines, movements taking a quicker pace, "Can feel yer cunt flutterin' against me."

His head falls back.

"Can feel yer close, Mo ghrá—can feel yer heartbeat."

His words send a deep throb through you.

Remmick's hands grip your thighs tighter, tiny pinpricks of blood welling up under his claws.

You feel the orgasm coming—it tingled steadily from your head to your toes.

Overwhelming your senses until it hit it's peak.

Pleasure burns through you like wild fire—you moan his name, back arched, and your limbs curled around him.

"F-fuck yes, come fer me."

Remmick slowed his movement—trying to guide you through it with slow grinds of his hips.

The tingling burn slowly ebs to a soft warmth—flowing through your limbs like molasses.

You lift your eyes to Remmick—blinking slowly as you wait for your brain to catch up.

He is barely holding himself together.

High whines and pleading moans bleed from his trembling form—hands gripping desperately at your thighs.

His stomach is taunt with restraint—cock throbbing against your sensitive folds.

"S'close—please tell me I can."

His eyes squeeze shut—hot desperate tears leaking from them.

Reaching out to stroke a thumb over his cheek, you whisper softly.

"Go on, baby, paint me pretty."

And with a choked moan—Remmick does.

Hot thick pulses of cum shoot onto you—from cunt to tits.

His hips jerk messily against you—milking himself with trembling moans of your name.

Remmick collapses on top of you—his forehead resting on your chest.

You allow him a moment of calm, just enough time for his heart to stop beating out of his chest.

Wrapping a gentle hand around his softening cock you stroke it.

Remmick tenses up with a whimper—his hips jumping away from your touch.

"Aw baby, you didn't think we were done, did you?"

He trembles with overstimulation—slowly hardening in your grasp.

"I-I can't." His voice cracks.

Pulling his head up by his hair—you teasingly smile.

"But you fuckin' will," Your voice silk and whiskey, "Won't you?"

He nods—sobs wracking his form as you guide his head to your oozing entrance.

Slowly, he fills you—hips jerking like he didn't know wither to push in or pull away.

He moans—long and broken.

With a moan of your own, you rock your hips—adjusting to the aching stretch of him.

His cock presses sweetly against your cervix—twitching within you.

Remmick gasps his body tensed with torturous pleasure

"Oooh—ooooh—fuck."

You take two fingers and reach down—rubbing slow-tight circles on your clit.

Your cunt clenching around him as waves of pleasure roll over you.

He chokes on a sob—helplessly rocking his hips.

"That's it, doin' s'good for me, Remmick."

He trembles—whimpering with each thrust like it hurt.

Moaning you move your fingers faster—rougher.

The head of his cock brushes over the soft patch of nerves deep inside you with ease.

Pleasure pools heavy in your limbs—spreading through you quicker than last time.

Your chest heaves with gasps—free hand clutching the nape of his neck.

"Fuck, baby, 'm gonna come."

Remmicks hips slap wetly against your ass with each thrust.

Sharp plap sounds echoing in the air around you.

Your climax rips through you with a scream—your cunt clenching and unclenching around him.

With a sobbed wail, Remmick follows—his hips grinding deep into you as he floods you with cum.

He stays that way as he calms—pressed deep inside you—feeling your heartbeat through your walls.

He is limp on top of you—unable to hold himself up with trembling arms.

"Is tusa mo scrios, Mo ghrá."

He slurs in a whisper against your collarbone—lips brushing softly against your skin.

The air is quiet as you lay there—chests rising and falling in rhythm with one another.

Your bodies coated in a variety of fluids—a work of art.

A painting of reverence.

[ᯓ★]Taglist: @jimmys-tiara

#jack o'connell #submissive remmick #remmick #remmick x reader #remmick x reader smut #remmick smut #pathetic!remmick #sub!remmick #desperate!remmick #touch starved remmick #needy!remmick #📼#bleedingsunlightᯓ★

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