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snuggle-fangs · 2 days ago

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i got a wife like honeycomb

remmick x reader (18+ mdni)

You're all alone in your brother-in-law's farm in Texas. Your fiancé recently passed, mauled by some horrible beast. A man shows up asking for shelter from the rain and you can't just turn him away...

author's note: haigh all here's your cowboy remmick fic. grma for the love on the paddy fic and hope yous enjoy! warnings: grief, animal death (remmick eating them), horror elements, a bit of graphic vampire violence, oral sex (fem receiving), spit/drool kink, vampire drool as aphrodisiac, f/m sex

You wake in the night to the sound of coyotes. The sound is distant, but loud enough to make you shiver in bed. You’ve been alone on this farm for a week now.

You’ve been staying with your brother-in-law, a kind courtesy after your fiancé passed. He’s a Texas Ranger like your man was, and he left last Thursday. You don’t mind being alone too much. There’s only two horses and one cow, nothing too much for you to handle on your own.

It’s the nighttime that really gets you.

You used to pride yourself on being a brave girl. Never afraid of a spider or a mouse. The Texas Rangers said your fiancé was mauled by something big with sharp teeth. A bobcat, most likely. But it mighta been bigger. That’s all it could have been with the way he was left. Or rather what was left of him. You remember they sent the kid with the kind face who held his hat and looked at his shoes as he stammered out the gruesome fate of your poor sweet love.

Now it’s Thursday again, and as the big grandfather clock in the house ticks closer to Friday morning, you hide underneath the blankets of your bed.

I’ll be back on Tuesday around noon and the shotgun is just-

The coyotes stop howling and the still night air feels loud as church bells in your small room. A horse outside neighs faintly.

And the knock on the door is deafening.

At first, you almost think you imagine it. Not at this hour. Not this far away from any towns or cities. The little part of your soul left back in Houston thinks it could be a neighbour, but there are no neighbours here. Nobody here to borrow sugar or ask for a favor–

Your train of thought veers off the tracks when you hear another knock. You slowly rise and descend the stairs, pulling on the boots strewn on the floor and the coat hanging off the railing. You’re in your nightgown, but you’ll peek first before you open the door. The floorboards creak beneath your boots as you look out of the window and see a man in a black hat. He almost seems to not breathe, standing so still you shiver in your boots.

He reaches to knock again and you stand up straight, trying to remember where your brother-in-law had stashed that shotgun.

“I-I heard you,” you say without opening the door. You deepen your voice, trying to sound manly.

“Evenin’, now,” a smooth, cold voice responds. “Is your mama home, by chance?”

Oh, Lord. He thinks you’re a boy.

You open the door cautiously. He takes off his hat.

“Ma’am,” he greets you. “Did I just talk to you like a little boy?” You nod, embarrassed. It seems he is too, shifting from foot to foot.

“It’s awful late, mister.”

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but my… my poor horse broke his leg in them woods out there… ‘n I had to shoot him. Now I’m on foot ‘n… well, you were the first place I could find.”

He’s got a funny accent. He’s certainly not Texan. He looks bad, all sweaty and plenty dirty. His clothes look ragged and dirtier than he is.

“You’re not… some kind of outlaw, are you?” you ask.

You realise it’s a stupid question as the words leave your lips.

Your pretty, pouting lips, Remmick thinks, starving. He couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome. Even when he thought it’d be a young boy and his mother, he thought he’d hit a jackpot. But this? One little lady all alone on a ranch? It was perfect.

His cold heart beats slow in his cavernous chest, a percussive lament for a lack of fresh blood. The outlaw and horse he ate satisfied him for only a moment, and he’s fiending for more hot flesh to rip into. His current concern is time, and the sun loaded in God’s pistol ready to rise and serve as the anticlimactic ending of a poorly told story.

He chuckles, doing his best to seem charming and not like the desperate animal he is.

“No, miss. Just an unlucky cowboy.”

You sound maddeningly familiar, but he can’t quite place your accent either, but he hasn’t had too much experience in the States. His nights are occupied by running and killing what he can, when he can.

“Do you have a gun?” you ask him, your scared eyes flitting to his sides.

He holds up his hands innocently.

“I do not.”

You think it over for a moment. You really shouldn’t let a stranger in. But it’s an hour ride on horseback to the nearest town and you can’t give up your brother-in-law’s horses. It’d be more wrong of you not to give this man shelter.

Remmick watches your face change as you think. You’re a sweet morsel, and he’s dying to sink his fangs into you. He can hear your heartbeat and smell the cold sweat on your skin. When you look up at him he watches a thought form in your face. You realise something, and it shifts your brow ever so slightly. Remmick feels another want deeper in his chest. The steady death march of his heart has sped up to a rolling drum.

He doesn’t just want to eat you.

The shotgun is under the bed upstairs.

“What’s your name?”

“Remmick, miss.”

You give him yours, which he repeats in a voice that makes you shift in place. You really should make this man sleep in the stable.

But that’s not what you say.

“Well… why don’t you come in and get out of the cold, Remmick?”

Come in.

He feels a weight lifted off of him and he grins.

“Thank you, miss.”

You open the door for him and he steps through the threshold, his eyes almost rolling back in his head from the smell of your home. There’s a man who usually lives here, he can smell that lingering staleness. It smells like fear and loneliness, but your blood is hot and he needs it. Bad.

You lead him to your kitchen where he sits, legs spread wide, the way your fiancé used to sit when he was waiting to grab you and tug you into his lap. You suddenly feel that crushing loneliness again, accompanied by a vast and ugly feeling of want. You haven’t wanted a man since that creature took yours.

It’s a foolish thought. You’re all alone and you’ve known this man for all of– you count the grandfather ticks in your mind– five minutes.

“Do you want something to eat? Or… some tea, maybe?”

“That’d be very nice,” he says with a toothy grin.

His grin is wide and his teeth are scary white, like staring down the snout of a coyote. You know where the shotgun is. Your brother-in-law didn’t bother to show you how to shoot it but that won’t stop you from firing it.

You brew Remmick some tea and place the mug in front of him. He drinks it down, maybe too fast, he can see concern on your face.

“Jeez, wasn’t that hot?”

“I’m freezin’,” he lies.

You feel cold yourself, and exposed. You button the coat around your waist.

“Oh, and you must’ve gotten rained on,” you say as you remember it had been pouring earlier. “Let me getcha some clean clothes to wear… I… I think those ones you oughta just throw out. Except that hat.”

“That’s so kind of you, miss. Thank you.”

Dressed in your brother-in-law’s clothes, washed up, and hat on the table, Remmick sits there like he belongs. Legs once again wide and elbow on his thigh, leisurely leaning to the side as he watches you. You could hardly sleep and decided– for some reason you truly can’t understand yourself– to make cornbread.

“Are these your… husband’s clothes?”

You should lie, but you’re too focused on stirring to be that smart.

“My brother-in-law’s, actually. I’m a widow,” you admit absently. “Well, not a widow. We never married.”

You’ve said those words a thousand times before. You don’t get choked up anymore. It’s like stating a fact you’ve always known, like where you were born or your height.

“I see. He’s not here, then?”

“Not tonight. He’ll be back tomorrow,” you lie.

“Was he a soldier?” Remmick asks, looking around the house.

It’s not organized, everything has a woman’s touch. He feels like it’s not yours, something about you is too freshly frazzled to be so warm. You seem sweet, though. Suspicious, but he could sweet talk anything that had ears to listen.

“He was a Texas Ranger for a while. My fiancé was, too. He died on duty.”

“Brave man.”

“Well, it wasn’t an outlaw that got him. It was some kind of… animal.”

Remmick tenses up, but doesn’t let you see.

“Like a bobcat?”

“They think, but… they said he has these… bites, but only on his neck, and no animal in Texas has got that kind of teeth.”

“Strange,” he says, eyes looking into his tea.

───────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────────

Your fiancé clutched his broken arm, scrambling back on the stony ground, trying to escape the monster before him.

“No, no, I’m beggin’ you-”

“Well it ain’t workin’, ranger.”

Remmick was starving, in his full form. Fangs bared, claws sharp and long. His hands felt heavy as he swung at the ranger. There was something funny about a grown man crying. Hunger and exhaustion had made this monster more cruel than he cared to be. There was no unity with this meal, only a fix of blood before he had to hunker down in this cave and continue on foot the next night.

“I’ve been eatin’... vampire bats and fuckin’ salamanders for a month now, and you look pretty good.”

“Please, please, my girl’s waitin’ for me-”

“Oh, I’m sure she is, loverboy. Maybe once I drink all your blood and leave you for the vultures, I’ll go and find that girl, huh?”

“No, no-”

“Yeah. I’mma go find her, fuck her good ‘n right.”

“-you goddamned son of a bitch-”

“Yeah. I’ll go ‘n fuck your girl so good, she won’t even remember you.”

The ranger howled as Remmick bit into his neck. Memories flooded his system, a sweet thing with her skirts pushed up telling him hurry, hurry, before your brother gets back. The soft feeling of two thighs pressing against the side of his head and the pretty litany of moans falling on his ears like they came from heaven. Yes, right there, oh, don’t stop, yes! A tight grip on his cock and sliding, in, out, in, out, and breathy whines that made his eyes roll back.

He pulled away from the ranger, twitching and choking. Remmick sighed, sitting back on his haunches as blood and drool dripped down his chin.

“That’s a helluva girl you got,” he thought out loud.

He sat for a moment and realised the ranger would be waking up any moment now, rejuvenated, with a little part of Remmick in him. He didn’t have time to teach a fledgling how to act, or to deal with a traveling partner. He searched for a large rock and sighed.

So much for fellowship and love.

───────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────────

You.

You are that girl with the trembling thighs and the tight cunt he’s had so many dreams about. Absorbing the memories of everyone he turns can be a blessing or a curse, and he really didn’t mean to turn your man. He was just so damn hungry.

He’s so damn hungry, he’s feeling like he could give up on chivalry and kill you right now. You’d make a pretty little partner. He saw a cabin in the woods you could live in, hunt at night and board things up during the day.

You put the cornbread on the stove to cool, and you’ll eat it in the morning, which is coming soon. You set up Remmick in your brother-in-law’s room. Simple. Stern. He’s more of a soldier than your man was, never silly or playful.

“G’night, Remmick.”

“Goodnight, miss,” he purrs in a voice that makes you feel scandalized.

You quickly ascend the stairs and kneel, crawling under the bed to pull out the shotgun. You don’t even know if it’s loaded, but you sleep with it anyhow.

───────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────────

You wake up hot and sweaty, squirming in your nightgown. You dreamt about your fiancé, his strong hands and kind eyes. You sit up and sigh, shaking your head.

You manage to accomplish your morning tasks on the farm. Feed the chickens, get the eggs. Feed the horses, feed the cow. Earlier than you’d like, the sun completely disappears behind gloomy gray clouds and it begins raining. You dash from the stable to the house and still get soaked, shivering as you seek refuge under your porch. You gasp as you almost trip over a dead raccoon. You shriek and Remmick comes out to find you.

The stormcloud cover keeps him from burning but it is giving him a nasty headache. He kneels down and pretends to be disgusted by the thing he killed. The evening before he left some food out on the porch and lured the thing in, lurching out to grab it. Leaving meant needing your permission to re-enter the house. And that was not an option.

“Wh-what kinda creature does that?”

“Coyote, probably.”

“Th-they kill like that?”

“Time to time,” he lies.

You can’t help it as you begin to cry. Remmick takes you in his arms. He’s strong and he smells nice, like the woods and a warm fire. You’re so wet and cold, and he doesn’t do much to warm you. It really is freezing, you think.

“I’ll get rid of it, honey,” he coos softly, holding your face.

Honey. That struck you. It plucked a taut cord in you and made you blink at him stupidly.

“Oh, no. Don’t touch that thing… what if you get sick?”

“Reckon I’ll be fine. You leave it out here, you don’t know what kinda things you’ll get up on this porch.”

He does his best not to show you a smug grin.

“Well… okay. Just… put it in the woods.”

You offer him a thick jacket to drape over his head in the rain.

“And then come back in, you’re gonna catch cold out there!” you call out to him.

You almost make it too easy.

───────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────────

That grandfather clock ticks away and you realise you’ll have to amend your lie. Your brother-in-law is not returning today. You don’t exactly want Remmick to leave. He’s charming and funny. He sang a little song today while he read a book, and you found yourself tapping your foot as you embroidered in a hoop. He calls you honey again three times, and you’re getting real used to the attention.

You like having a man in the house. It reminds you of when you first started to live with your fiancé and his brother, however taboo that was. Neither man cared, and your brother-in-law didn’t mind leaving to go on a ride around the area while you and your man made love.

Remmick can feel the ranger’s memories, triggered by little things here and there. The way you stick your tongue out in focus has him biting back a groan at kitten licks on the head of his cock. You lean over the kitchen table to grab a spoon? He remembers bending you over it and driving into you, and the wild way you begged for more, more, faster, yes, that! You say his name but all he can hear is the sound of your voice whispering in his ear about sooner you put a ring on this finger, sooner you can put a baby in me. He can’t even make babies, but he’s fiending for your cunt so bad he’s starting to get stupid.

“Remmick?”

“Yes?”

“I… I’m guessing his train got delayed. So, he’ll probably be here tomorrow.”

It’s a clumsy lie.

“I can get out of your hair any time you want, honey.”

“No, no. I… I was going to invite you to stay another night, you’ll just have to leave in the morning.”

“I’d like that very much. I just can’t get enough of your cookin’,” he flirts.

It’s charming and it has you blushing.

“Thank you.”

He’s on a deadline now, and a creature that can only thrive at night lives and breathes a deadline.

The rain calms to a light sprinkle when the sun makes the sky glow orange, and Remmick has– with complaints of a headache– retired to lay down for a while. You go upstairs and decide that you should move the shotgun. It scares you to have it so close to your bed, and you stash it just above your cupboards. It’s a little bit of a reach, but maybe if you feel really unsafe, Remmick can get it down for you.

───────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────────

You continue like this for three days until the sun sets on Monday evening. You know your brother-in-law returns tomorrow, and you are so frightened. Whatever creature is lurking in those woods has been leaving dead animals like lambs on an altar every morning. You know it’s not a coyote doing it because this morning, it was a damn coyote. A ravaged little creature that you felt pity for. You said a short prayer, which made Remmick twitchy.

This man was a strange one. He slept until late in the day, and any time the rain calmed down, he had an awful headache. You knew of old folks whose bones ache when it rained, but never someone who was ailing without a downpour. You wonder if he usually smokes or quit chewing tobacco, as he’s mostly twitchy and excitable, but calculated all the same. He fiddles with his hands and he claims to enjoy your cooking, but he seems to be choking down gags every time he eats. Maybe he’s an opium smoker or he’s usually on the sauce– your brother-in-law is a militant teetotaler, which saved you from becoming a drunken mess after your man’s massacre.

Monday evening is cold and dark. The ground is soaked with mud and yet Remmick decides he wants to take the air.

You oblige him, and he dons those black clothes he met you in to go hunting.

He’s stalking a deer for a while when he hears something distantly. The voice of a man grumbling to himself. The ranger’s memories flash again. Two boys fighting over a pop gun, two teenagers fighting over a girl. No fair, I saw her first, met with she ain’t a damn penny, stupid! Then the serious promise of I’ll keep an eye on her, brother, you know I can handle her.

He grins.

Your brother-in-law is home early.

───────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────────

Your head shoots up when you hear a man’s voice outside. Remmick has returned.

“What’d you put those awful clothes on for?”

“Figured I wouldn’t get those clean ones dirty.”

It was almost clever, but exceedingly strange, as you knew him to be.

You share the dinner table and when you stand to clear it, Remmick reaches for your hand.

He says your name. You pause and try to pull your hand back.

“It’s a shame you never got to be a wife, honey. You’d be damn good at it.”

The grandfather clock ticks as you stare him down, your mind empty. He sees the corner of your mouth twitch and he can remember just push my dress up, c’mon, nobody’ll know.

“You need a man to take care of you, sweet thing,” he offers softly, ever so slightly tugging you to him. You stand between those wide-spread legs as he looks up at you, cupping your cheek in a rough hand. It’s half-reverent, half-predatory as he traces your face with his knuckle.

You want to deny it. But you’re so scared, so incapable, so alone. You give him a quick and shameful nod, unable to meet his eyes.

“Want me to take care of you, honey?”

You see through the corner of your eye that he’s drooling. Not a little the absentminded dribble of getting hot and bothered but the serious drool of a dog waiting to be fed.

You should probably be disgusted. And if you were a little more attentive, you would notice his glowing red eyes, too. But if anything, it fans the fire in your belly.

“Lemme take care of you, baby,” he pleads, gazing up at you. “Fuck, I’m crazy for you. I can smell you… Christ, it’s drivin’ me wild, the smell of you.”

“What smell?”

“Old books and chamomile tea…”

He winces, his nails digging into your wrist. He quickly looks up at you, sitting back on his haunches.

“I can smell that pussy, mo ghrá,” he purrs.

You take a sharp breath at his words.

“Wh-what’s that mean?” He inhales deeply, shakily exhaling as his eyes close. A smile spreads across his face.

“You want me too, honey?”

You’re quiet for a moment.

“Yes,” you answer softly.

“What do you want?”

You swallow, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

“You… your hands.”

You spot his hips rocking in place, desperate for your touch.

“What about my hands?”

“You’re so strong, Remmick. Last night I was thinking about… how the… the veins on your arms pop out,” you manage, your breathing laboured.

He successfully hides his grin, clasping his hands.

“Please, baby, doesn’t it hurt? God, it fuckin’ hurts,” he snarls.

You nod, close to tears. You feel feral and untamed, and you need him to rip your clothes off and take care of you.

“I just want to help you, mo ghrá, please,” he whimpers.

“Just fuck me, please!” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth.

He’s on you in an instant, pushing the chair back behind him. He noses at your neck, inhaling the smell of you. He can hear your heart pounding as he backs you against the kitchen table, your backside bumping into it.

“Remmick,” you start carefully.

“Yeah, baby?” he says, sickly sweet as he grins at you.

“Be gentle now.”

“Course, honey.”

He lifts you to sit on the table, kissing you deeply. It’s sloppy and hot, and you can feel the drool dripping down your neck.

“Lemme eat you, baby. I’ll lick you so good- oh, fuck,” he hisses when your hand palms him over his trousers.

He chuckles, his breathing heavy.

“I’ll lick you so good you forget your own name,” he promises.

He meets your eyes and you nod at him.

“You have to say it,” he breathes against your lips.

“Please,” you whisper.

He takes off his suspenders and rolls up his sleeves, eyes stuck on you. You quickly shove your layers off with his help until you’re only left in your shift, half-bare to him. The cream coloured fabric is sheer and he can see your nipples hardening underneath. He drops to his knees, rucking up the skirt and wrenching apart your thighs. He groans loud when he spots the soaked fabric of your bloomers.

He kisses the side of your knee, gazing up at you from between your legs.

“Can I?”

“Quit teasing,” you beg him.

He leans forward and slips your bloomers down your legs. He brings the fabric to his face, inhaling your sweet scent and bucking his hips unconsciously. He tosses them behind him and rucks your dress up, moaning at the glisten when your wetness catches the light.

He dives forward, licking a stripe up your slit and lapping at your clit.

You gasp, a hand threading in his bronze hair.

“Fuck me,” he grunts.

He pushes his tongue inside of you, making you squirm. He holds you down with his strong hands, veins in his arms bulging. You have to plant another hand beside yourself to stop from fainting backwards.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he breathes, pulling back. your wetness makes his mouth shine, and one strand of drool drips from his lips. You’re soaked, and your movement makes a sickly squelching sound. He works one finger in and slowly adds another.

“Oh, Remmick,” you whine.

He curls his fingers up like he’s trying to get you closer, but if you were any closer to his face you’d be a mask. Your fiancé never did anything like this, you didn’t even know you could feel this way. Everything is so slick and hot, his drool and your wetness combining as he drinks it all down greedily.

He hooks under your thighs to pull you to the edge of the table and continues. He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You shout, covering your mouth and laying flat on the table. He rocks his hips to seek some touch, only feeling the light brush of his own britches. Your hips buck into his mouth and he lets you as he lavs at your clit endlessly.

“Remmick, w-wait-”

“Nearly there, mo chroí.”

He traces the letters of his name with his tongue, your legs hooked over his shoulders.

The taste of you is supplemented by flashes of you in different positions, on your knees, in his lap, behind a pew. Dirty girl. He crooks his fingers, licking flat on your clit slowly, pressing in.

You cry out, grabbing his hair and yanking as your back arches. You gush into his waiting mouth, which he drinks down gratefully.

“Thank you, thank you, fuck, don’t stop, k-keep bucking like that,” he mutters encouragements, kissing at your clit every few seconds to keep you jolting.

Finally he winces and squirms, cock twitching in his trousers. He stands on wobbly legs, looking down at you. You exhale and sit up. He kisses you softly.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” you puff out against his lips.

He scoops you up and carries you up the stairs to the bedroom, setting you down. He stands in front of you and you undo the buttons on his shirt, parting the fabric. You smooth your hands from his toned stomach to his muscular chest.

He breathes softly, his eyes closing. You feel his pectorals, biting your lip at the plushness of them and how they’re cool to the touch. You reach down and unbuttons his britches, unzipping them and trying to push them down. He pushes your shift up your body and tosses it to the side. You’re bare to him, and he’s nearly there.

He shoves you back onto the bed, snarling as he climbs over you. He kicks off his britches.

“Mo shíorghrá,” he pants, nosing at your neck. His teeth scrape at your skin.

“What is that?”

“Hm?”

“What does that mean?”

He hesitates.

“It’s Irish for ‘eternal love’,” he explains quietly, his breath on your cheek.

“Forever?”

“Only if you let me make it forever,” he utters, pressing a kiss to your cheekbone.

“Can we do this forever?” you sigh, draping your arms around his neck.

“Of course we can, mo ghrá,” he says, sickly sweet, hooking your legs over his hips as he grinds against you.

Your hand darts down to grip him at the base and guide him in.

“You opened the door for me and now you let me in so nicely,” he teases, pushing into you slowly.

A bell should be ringing in your head, but all you can think of is the divine stretch of him sliding into your cunt slowly.

“Feels good, baby?”

You nod wildly, your nails digging into his chest as you brace yourself. He gasps when he feels you envelop him, a hand fisting the bed sheet next to your head.

“F-fuck,” he breathes shakily.

“It’s so good, angel,” you mewl, your nails digging into his back. “Oh, Remmick… oh, honey,” you whine, twisting when he bottoms out, panting.

“Oh, Jesus,” he wheezes.

He gazes at you, half-lidded and drunk on the feeling. He’s so hungry, and he can’t help when his fangs slide out of his mouth.

He leans down to the scarred spot at the top of your breast. The pearly white points in his mouth pierce your skin.

You cry out.

“D-did you bite me?”

The feeling of pain lasts for a moment, and suddenly all you feel is warmth in your chest. Blood beads at the wounds and he latches on, sucking the blood from the wound and swallowing noisily as he does. He continues to move his hips, fucking in and out of you as you whimper.

“Remmick, th-that hurts…”

He moans against your skin when you tighten around him.

“Fuck… d-don’t do that,” he puffs against your skin, your blood all around his mouth.

“Do what? This?” you giggle, flexing your abdominals to make his eye twitch.

You’re fucking giggling, and he’s about to make you his forever.

You smirk, turning him over when he’s lost in it. He holds your hips and lavs at your wound until it closes.

“Fuck me,” he breathes.

You plant your hands on his chest and raise yourself up with his help.

“So good, honey, so good,” you chant, eyes closed.

“Yes, yes, fuck… damn it to hell, girl, g-go faster…”

He helps you, pulling you down quicker and quicker on his cock until you’re bouncing on it, lip between your teeth.

“Baby,” he manages, his voice shaking. He twitches inside of you as he hits the spot that has your vision spotting.

You’re breathless, you can’t even think. There’s just the in-out, up-down drag of his cock filling you up like you’ve never known before. You see fangs in his mouth and you aren’t even scared.

“Cum with me, c’mon, please,” he mutters, his face in the crook of your neck.

You both stiffen up and break. He growls, biting at your neck as your back arches. You feel alive and dead all at once, like every inch of your body is being kissed and bitten. He drinks more of your blood, drool and sweat and tears all trail down your body. You go limp and Remmick falls back. You moan as you rest on his chest. He whimpers softly and cradles you.

You drift off briefly and awaken feeling loose and rejuvenated. You reach to touch your neck and Remmick takes your hand. You see claws on his fingers, and notice that your nails come to sharp points too.

“Aren’t you glad you let me in?” he jokes in a black honey voice.

You hear it with your ears but you can hear him in your mind, too. He's all over you, inside of you, right in your chest. Your heart is hardly beating, in exact time with his.

“Mhm,” you murmur, curling up. You feel the warm, wet sensation of blood pooled around your body, but you don't care.

“Aren’t you glad I killed your stupid fiancé and his dumb fuck brother, too?”

"Yeah."

“You’re gonna be my little wife now, baby. All fuckin’ mine.”

309 notes · View notes

snuggle-fangs · 3 days ago

Note

I have a remmick x gender neutral!reader request (I hope you do those, if not it’s okay!). Reader is a lone, fledgling vampire - perhaps they became a vampire through being cursed, or whatever strikes your fancy. I’m dying for more Sinners vampire lore.

Anyways, reader is on their own, not knowing how to vampire, barely surviving, throat on fire with thirst because they don’t understand their new afterlife until they meet Remmick. The two can be companions, which they so obviously need.

Rotten Blood

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Thank you for the request!! I absolutely love this idea and can 100% do a gender-neutral reader :) Of course Remmick still calls them the usual pet names (darlin’, baby, etc.) since I believe those can be for anybody so interpret as you will!

Summary; As a new vampire, you have no idea what to do but don’t worry, Remmick will help you.

Content; GN reader, fledgling vampire reader, getting turned, vampirism, suicidal ideation, hive minds, starvation, death, Remmick is weird and a smartass (what else is new), blood and injury, fighting Remmick, Remmick gives you your first meal, vampire bonding, very dependent relationship

Wc; 4.2k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

You’ve never before known a hunger like this.

You feel it within every cell of your immortalized body as you stumble through the moonlit forest in a daze. Roots catch the toes of your boots, intent on dragging you down and keeping you there with them as they consume your flesh that’s so inherently wrong. You know it wouldn’t be difficult, you know that if you fell you wouldn’t be able to get back up. Starvation is like a beast stuck in the confines of your form, growling within your stomach and creating a tightness like a clenched fist in your chest. Your lips are dry and cracked, your face sunken, skin sallow, throat burning like you swallowed acid.

The teeth in your mouth feel unfamiliar, sharpened at the ends and crafted with the purpose of tearing into flesh. They create an ache in your gums, full of a desire to rip and devour and drink the warm life of God’s creations, the same ones you’d been taught to cherish. They’ve refused to retract since that night, your own body ignoring your commands in favor of the hunger steadily consuming you.

It was two weeks ago now, the time that passed feeling like an unbearable blur tracked through the moon’s cycle. She was full when your family was killed in front of you, and now she’s merely a crescent sitting amongst the stars.

You hadn’t known the man, neither did your parents. All they’d seen was a person in need of help and god bless their hearts, they’d welcomed him in so he could have a place to rest. You’d merely been visiting, something you did every month now that your parents were getting older, having no idea it’d be the last time you ever did such a thing. You were in your room finishing your work, oblivious to the monster that had just stepped foot inside your childhood home. It was three minutes after when the screaming started and you ran out to find your momma and papa laying in pools of their own blood with that man standing over them.

His beady eyes locked on to you and you’d tried to run but oh, do those things love a chase. You’d been shoved to the ground so hard your chin busted and you’d punched and kicked with all your might, but it wasn’t enough against a creature with snapping teeth and claws digging into your shoulders. In an act of desperate frenzy, you felt those fangs sink in and rip your life right from your neck.

You don’t understand why you were the only one who woke up again.

When you came to on the kitchen floor, you found you were alone and covered in your blood. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes based on the warmth of it, but the man was nowhere to be seen and your back door was left swinging open. It made you sick how alien your body felt, like you’d been picked up out of your original one and plopped right into a new one. There was something unusual that crawled under your skin, your limbs felt foreign, and every sense was heightened to an inhuman level. You could hear the critters far off in the woods, could smell the iron of your parent’s blood, could see perfectly in the darkness of the house.

You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to scream, to cry, to puke, to chase down that vile man and kill him—with the claws that protruded from your fingers now, you probably could. But you didn’t do any of that. You merely stood on unsteady feet and walked out the door, something within you telling you that you couldn’t stick around any longer.

From there you continued to wander in a state of shock, unable to muster a single thought, your gleaming eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief. You kept going until the moon began to fall, until some secondary, old voice inside of you hissed that you needed to seek shelter. You’d gone deeper into the woods, managing to find an old hut that was falling apart inside and out. It was completely abandoned, meaning you got to just walk inside and curl up in the furthest corner from the door, making yourself as small as possible on the wooden floor that gave you splinters.

You laid there for hours as the world seemed to pass you by, only noticing when the room lightened with the sun, rays breaking in through a hole in the roof or gaps between the boards. You were far enough from them that you didn’t burn but you still felt the kiss of their heat on your sweat soaked skin. You were more than content to just remain there, to listen to the sounds of the outside as your body rotted away in some unknown hut. Then the voices started.

Screams and terrified voices of those long dead, of people who suffered your same fate, creating a cacophony within your mind. You’d groaned like you were in pain, clutching your head as they continued to wail. It was your connection to the man that did this, the souls of those he’d damned come to torment his newest victim. You could feel him so faintly within you, his frayed emotions and frantic thoughts, and if you branched yourself out, you knew you’d be able to rifle through a couple of his loose memories. It was clear he had no care for anyone but himself, he was barely a century old, and he lived in a state of constant panic. It spread to you, anxiety kicking in your chest, making you feel as though you were being hunted by something unseen.

“Please… just stop…” You’d muttered, your first words since your parents were killed. Your voice was cracked and weak, a mere whisper to whatever cursed god reigned over damned things like yourself. The screams quieted, but they were still there in the back of your mind, a constant echo while you drifted through fitful bouts of sleep.

Those voices became your companion while you walked through the forest like a ghost. Your hunger reared its ugly head after two days, your vampiric mind running in circles around the idea of fresh blood. The human part of you that still remained refused, the thought of taking a human life all for your own needs making you ill. You’d tried to eat the normal food you were able to scrounge up, had tried to drink water from a stream, but it just ended with you throwing it back up in violent heaves until there was nothing left but bile. You’d cried then, sobs wracking your body in frustration and horror, your tears tinted red.

Your days and nights continued to drag on much the same. You pulled yourself back into your hut as the moon set, you withered away on the floor, and then you’d spend the night roaming in search of some kind of purpose while desperate pleas and screams bounced around your skull. There were some days where you’d simply stare at the sunlight coming in through your hut, the specks of dust dancing in the rays acting like a taunt. You wanted nothing more than to walk into them, the human part of you begging for freedom, rattling the bars of the cage you’d been forced into. However, just as you’d reach forward, just as the sun would make your skin bubble and blister, you’d yank yourself back. That twisted sense of self-preservation continued to keep you from ending it all, kept you trapped in your prison of flesh and bone.

Sometimes the voices even urged you to do it. Some of them went out the same way, they just walked straight out into the sun and burned with nobody to stop them. They murmured that you should join them in their torture of the man who turned you, their spirits locked to him in an act of defiance, restlessness, and anger. You could never escape them until the one night they just… went silent.

It was like a radio being abruptly shut off, pure silence following. It felt like you could breathe again, could think again, at last left with just your own thoughts and emotions. You knew what it meant—the man that did this had finally been killed. You weren’t surprised of course, based on his old memories it seemed he was a fucking idiot anyway. With quiet finally in your mind, that was the first day you were able to sleep properly.

The cycle continued, hunger eating away at you with each sunrise and sunset. It’s why you’re still walking the woods now, like you’re hoping some solution will present itself to you and relieve you of this problem. You haven’t even been able to catch an animal, your heavy limbs too clumsy and your mind too distracted to get your claws on a mere rabbit. It’s led you to wander farther than you ever have before, starvation leading you on an invisible leash to what’s undoubtedly your own demise. Your mouth hangs open, your fangs peeking out from behind your lips, desperate for something, anything, to ease the pain twisting your stomach.

Your shoulder bumps into a tree and you find yourself sticking there like a bug would get stuck to sap, leaning your weight against the trunk with panting breaths. Your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, unable to keep holding up your shrinking weight. You would’ve sunk to the ground right there and made that your resting place if something strange didn’t break you out of your stupor. The forest had gone quiet. It’s not the kind of quiet of night time when all the birds have laid to rest, it’s the kind that’s followed by something dangerous, every creature and insect too scared to utter a single peep.

Your ears perk, your abnormal eyes widening in an attempt to get a better view of your surroundings. You can feel it. The hairs along your arms raise with goosebumps, a shiver runs down your spine, your teeth ache in response, something new is hissing in your mind to be ready, like it knows something you don’t. You think you hear whispers in the branches above, passing things that you can’t make out but proceed something that has you shoving yourself off that tree with newfound strength, your claws extending even further.

“Thought I smelled somethin’ good.”

You whip around at that southern drawl of a voice, finding the source of it in a man leaning against a tree not even ten feet away. You can see the way his eyes gleam red in the darkness like rubies, lazily looking you over. His scent comes to you on the breeze—ancient earth, rusted metal, and old leather, with an undertone of something that doesn’t belong in this world. In other words, something like you. His posture is relaxed, hands in the pockets of his trousers, sleeves rolled up, but it does nothing to shut off the alarms blaring in your mind. It’s a constant loop of things like danger, threat, new vampire, too strong, run-

He shifts, taking slow steps towards you. “Ain’t never seen you ‘round here before.” He says curiously, hands falling from his pockets to reveal long claws stained with blood. His fangs show when he speaks, glinting under the moon and undoubtedly sharper than yours. His head tilts. “What’s yer name, sweet thing?”

You can’t find it in yourself to answer as you stumble away from him. You want nothing to do with another vampire, not after witnessing the one who turned you. Though this one seems vastly different, more experienced and sure of himself, like he’s been around long enough to figure it out. He hums. “No need to be scared, darlin’. Here, I’ll go first. Name’s Remmick.” The name itself sounds old and foreign, a piece from a time long ago, from lands far away. His eyes narrow when he looks at you, assessing. “Ya look like skin and bones. When’s the last time you ate?”

“Stay away from me.” You finally manage to bite out, the first thing you’ve spoken in days. The words burn your throat, thick and clunky on your tongue. Your fingers twitch, your muscles tense, and Remmick notices. He smiles knowingly.

“It’s okay, darlin’, I can help ya. Ya feel that hunger eatin’ you from the inside out, don’t ‘cha?” He says, seeing it plain as day on your face. He’s seen it plenty of times in other fledglings, even in himself. That original denial to feed, the unbearable wrongness of your desire, the desperation to cling to your humanity, even if it kills you. He forced himself to overcome it with defiance, to give in to the new monster raging within his body. He can tell there’s nothing like that in you though, instead filled with misery and depression and skittish instinct. Hell, if he had to guess you’re probably a day away from dropping dead.

Before you can even blink, he’s on you; your hunger-induced sluggishness is no match for his speed. Your breath whooshes out of you in a gasp when he grabs your face, those claws of his just lightly pressing into your skin like a reminder. His hold on you is tight as he tilts your head from side to side, his brows scrunching. “Yeah, ya ain’t one of mine. You get left all alone then, darlin’? Abandoned by yer maker?” His tuts in disdain. “Y’know, I killed one of them a few days back. Real young, spazzy fella, got too in my space.“

Your eyes widen with recognition. So he’s the one that did the other guy in. You’d honestly thank him for it if you weren’t terrified. With mere inches separating you, you’re able to more clearly see his strong features, the curls of black sitting on his forehead, the lines of a human life gone by just barely etching his face. There’s something eerily charming about him, something that makes you want to give in to his promises.

Still, there’s a part of you that refuses, that won’t fall prey to another one of these beasts, that has you raising your claws and slashing them across his arm. He yanks back with a hiss, red irises flashing dangerously like sparking embers. He holds his wound, four gashes along his forearm, the blood beginning to seep through his fingers. You nearly choke on the scent of it, staggering back a step as it wraps around you, thick and cloying. For the first time, you feel the drool pooling in your mouth, made from moisture you didn’t even know you had left in you. It seeps from the corners of your lips, it coats your fangs as if in preparation.

Remmick grins. “Ohhh yeah, that smells good, don’t it?” He lifts his hand, covered in his own blood, taunting. “Poor thing like you ain’t have anyone to show ya the way. All alone out here, no idea what to do… let me help ya, darlin’.”

“Leave me alone.” You practically beg, trying to distance yourself from that god damn smell, clenching your teeth so hard they could shatter. Hunger claws at your insides, begging to come out, to get a taste of the meal in front of you, tainted as it may be. His blood smells rich with history, full of stories and different lives lived, laced with earth older than you could imagine. There’s something in your mind howling for just a drop of it, begging to know what something that ancient would feel like on your tongue.

For every step you take back, Remmick takes another forward, never letting you get far enough from that scent. “Aw c’mon now, I can’t let a sweet thing like you go to waste. It’ll be okay, baby, I promise.” He coos at you like a frightened animal, getting closer still. “You don’t have to be all by yourself no more. Don’t have to keep bein’ in pain.” There’s something about you that draws him in, that makes him want to know more, to tame that frenzied panic within you. He’s already decided he won’t let you waste away for a second longer, no matter how much you fight him on it.

Oh, you sure do fight him on it. As soon as he gets too close for your liking, you’re growling again, lunging at him. Your claws want nothing more than to dig into him, especially as he laughs lightheartedly. He stumbles back as your weight slams into him, as your hands reach for his face and neck. He moves with an inhuman speed and strength that you lack, easily gripping your wrists and keeping you at a safe distance. “Easy now,” he says, almost teasing, “don’t wanna hurt ya.”

His tone serves to piss you off more, and you use that anger and your final pump of adrenaline to struggle, to try and kick and hit, to burn off the rage that’s been simmering within you for two weeks. Remmick sidesteps you with a lazy confidence, watching you wear yourself out. There’s a point when his own claws just barely nick your arm like an accident, a thin strip of blood beading at the surface. It makes him pull back, his nose scrunching. “Whew baby, yer blood is potent.” He whistles, nearly wincing at the scent that makes his mouth water. It smells so human, not yet flushed out by feeding on other’s blood, by the wrongness of being a vampire. His eyes gleam. “Still got all that mortality in ya.”

With the grace of a cat, Remmick sweeps your legs out from under you when you try going at it again, leaving you to fall to the forest floor with an oof. You groan, your head pounding, your limbs feeling unbearably heavy, chest heaving. You go limp against the cool grass, your remaining energy at last spent, more than content to lay there until the sun comes up and burns you away. You hear a click of the tongue above you, Remmick looking down at you. “You done, sweet thing?” You don’t respond, making him huff. “Alright, c’mon,” he says, scooping you up by under your arms and forcing you back on your feet, “don’t die on me just yet.”

He nods towards the trees beyond. “Let’s go. Got somethin’ for ya.”

He starts walking without even looking back, like he fully expects you to follow him, like he knows you will. He’s right of course, and you find yourself stumbling after him without a second thought; it’s not like you have much else better to do than follow this weird, ancient vampire.

His steps are steady and light, traversing the forest with the experience of someone who’s done it hundreds of times. He barely rustles the bushes he passes, as if he doesn’t exist to the world around him, or he doesn’t want to disturb it lest it turn the wrong eye on him. You, on the other hand, make enough noise for the both of you. You can barely stay upright, your legs shaking, every tree root feeling like a death sentence.

The further you go, the stronger a certain smell gets. At first you think perhaps it’s Remmick’s wounds from you bleeding again, but they closed up a while ago. No, this scent is fresh and full of life and human. Hunger slams into you tenfold, sent into a frenzy at the idea of a true meal. You begin to hear noises too, garbled cries and pleas and sobs.

The undergrowth parts around you, leading you into a small clearing where blood has smeared across the grass, eerily illuminated by the moon above. Lying amidst it all is a young man, his clothes dirty and bloodied, his face bruised, and tears running freely. He’s on his stomach like he’d attempted to crawl away, drawing attention to the fact that both his Achilles tendons have been brutally sliced. When he spots you both, he goes into a full blown panic, begging and pleading for mercy. “No, no, no- please- I don’t know what I did just spare me please-“

“Oh hush up.” Remmick says roughly to him, grabbing him by the collar and dropping him against a tree, then keeping him there with a boot pressed into his leg. Remmick looks to you, nodding towards the guy. “Now I left this poor feller waitin’ all cuz of ya so ya best be nice and put him outta his misery”

You stand there confused for a moment, in disbelief at the fact that you’re being offered someone else’s meal just like that. Drool coats your chin, your fangs fully extended and sharp as razors, the hunger inside you howls. You know better than to reject a gift when it’s given to you so Remmick watches you with both intensity and fascination as you stumble forward, your lips already dropped open. The scent of blood coats the roof of your mouth, your eyes gleaming while the man struggles and sobs.

You fall to your knees in front of him, clawed hands coming up to shove his head aside to bare his untouched neck to you. You can feel the way his blood pumps beneath the skin, his heartbeat so loud in your ears you could mistake it for your own if you had one. There’s still something human in you that struggles against this, that screams at the horror of it all, but it’s ultimately drowned out by the desire and temptation. You can’t find it in yourself to apologize before you’re leaning in, before your teeth are sinking deep, deep into his flesh.

The man’s scream gets cut off, his body going still beneath you. When those first drops of blood hit your tongue you moan, the sound coming from you without control. It feels like a puzzle piece has finally been snapped into place, everything suddenly feeling so unbelievably right, despite your actions being so wrong in every way under the eye of God. That burn in your throat at last goes away, strength already returning to your limbs, your mind clearing with each gulp. Remmick grins, satisfaction and pleasure blooming within him just from watching you. He crouches down, his hand coming to pet through your hair, brushing it back from your face. “That’s it, good, good. Drink it all, baby.” He says in whispered awe.

You do just that. You take and take and take, sucking every drop of blood from the man’s veins until there’s nothing left to be given, until the flavor starts to lose its vibrancy. When you finally feel satisfied, you pull back with a loud pop and a tear, your fangs leaving one last mark by ripping some of his skin. Your breath comes in heavy, iron-tainted pants, your eyes bright and you feeling like you can think for once. The blood has made a mess of your front, smeared across the lower half of your face and down your neck to your chest, ruining your shirt. Your hands haven’t been spared either, the red running from the tips of your claws to your knuckles.

You look up at Remmick, at the creature who finally fed you, who gave you just what you needed without hesitation, who saved you. Where there was once alarms ringing, there’s now just whispers of devotion. Whispers of Remmick being safety, a provider, a savior. He sees that shift in you clear as day, something he’s seen countless times before—it’s just that this time he didn’t have to turn you himself for it to happen. It makes his smile widen, his red gaze lidded.

He takes your face in one hand, and this time you don’t flinch away from his touch. “Gorgeous.” He murmurs before his tongue is on you, dragging across your chin, collecting the combination of blood and spit in rough licks. You whimper under his ministrations and he swallows down that sound with his lips on yours, his kiss starved and desperate. He groans at the taste of blood, taking every bit he can from you, the weight of his body pressing hot and heavy against your own. He licks across your neck, teeth grazing purposefully along your skin as a tease for you and him both. There’s small nips when he can’t control himself, when there’s a spot properly drenched with blood.

The combination of the man’s human blood mixed with the scent your own is intoxicating, and if Remmick didn’t force himself to pull back, to exercise some form of self restraint, he believes he would’ve found himself with his fangs in your neck.

He sighs, running his thumb along the corner of his lip to clean off the drool that began to form. “Now let’s find another one ‘fore I eat your sweet self whole.” He says, voice low and scratchy at the edges.

You’re eager to follow him, to have him show you the way of this new life. You both leave behind the mangled body of the man, his blood now flowing through your veins and giving you the energy you’d been so sorely lacking. You feel reborn, fresh and rejuvenated, excited to see what else may lay on the moonlit path with Remmick as your eternal guide, neither of you ever being alone again.

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