The Snuggle Coven🩷🦇🖤

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٠࣪⭑ meeting Dante was like finding God. he managed to fill every man shaped void in that big ol’ heart of yours.

٠࣪⭑ you’d always wear cute outfits for him. red bows in your hair, short skirts, low cut blouses, pretty tights, a dainty necklace with a cursive “D” sitting prettily on your chest. lots of layers and accessories. looking good for Dante was something you care a lot about. he is of course, very stylish (•ᴗ<˶)✧₊ ⊹

٠࣪⭑ the way he’d let you cling onto him in every situation. feet hurt? no problem! Dante will carry you anywhere you need to go. feeling shy in public? no problem! Dante’s broad shoulders and big biceps are perfect for you to hide behind :D

٠࣪⭑ Dante has the best nicknames for you: sweetheart, darling, love, angel, princess, babygirl

٠࣪⭑ he was gentle with you in a way no one had ever seen from him

٠࣪⭑ there was one time you guys were out on a date, you had on a pair of brand new tights you were so excited to wear, and within a few hours they got snagged and had a hole in them :(

٠࣪⭑ tears welled up in your eyes, you spent so much time on your outfit and it was ruined!

٠࣪⭑ Dante crouched down to your level, and wiped your tears away with his thumbs. “c’mon sweetheart, it’s okay, don’t cry.” he said with that smooth voice of his, “you still look so beautiful. if anything, distressed tights are kinda sexy, yeah?” he suggested, finally making you look up so your eyes met his.

you couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“I love seein’ that pretty smile of yours,” he said, a grin on his lips as well, “my sweet girl.”

٠࣪⭑ you both are very much into pda. it doesn’t matter who’s around, you’re always touching Dante somehow. holding onto his arm, sitting on his lap, wrapping your arms around his slutty little waist

٠࣪⭑ you guys are obnoxiously loud about your love for each other, the constant flirting was relentless

٠࣪⭑ you loved the way his stubble would tickle your skin. whether he was kissing your lips or between your thighs, it felt amazing

٠࣪⭑ speaking of! Dante is an eater. a very generous, talented eater. he never knew how starving he was til he met you, and ever since he can’t go a day without getting a taste

٠࣪⭑ he knows exactly where to kiss, lick, touch. he knows when to add fingers to the mix and when you’re close. knows how to talk you through your orgasms (yes. multiple.)

٠࣪⭑ “baby, you taste so good. so sweet,” he’d groan against your thighs, coaxing you through your first orgasm

“c’mon sweet girl, give it to me. wanna taste it, wanna taste you.”

٠࣪⭑ his voice and words alone could make you cum

٠࣪⭑ you enjoy taking care of each other, it’s your love language. Dante would make sure you eat three meals a day every day, get tucked into bed every night, and that all your needs are met.

٠࣪⭑ you on the other hand help watch his health, an old man like him needs to monitor his cholesterol! you keep Devil May Cry in tidy shape, and hold down the fort when he is out on missions.

٠࣪⭑ being in a relationship was good for Dante. he wants to provide for you, you motivate him to work on paying off his debts and make sure the bills get paid. he can’t leave his girl in a home without power!

٠࣪⭑ you keep Dante feeling young. you love to go out a lot! shopping, restaurants, bars, clubs. he wasn’t sure how he felt about it at first but quickly grew fond of outings with you

٠࣪⭑ he loves how you get all dolled up to go out with him and he loves drinking with you. the way you dance on him and are so needy for his attention after a few drinks, he knows he is in for a treat when you get home

٠࣪⭑ and he’s so gentle with you when you’re under the influence. i mean he’ll be rough if you ask him to ;) but he does everything possible to make sure you’re safe and comfortable

٠࣪⭑ on the other hand, if you’ve had too much to drink he’ll help you put on your cute hello kitty jammies, brush your hair and teeth, and take off your makeup before bed. and when you wake up there’s a glass of water and a bottle of Advil on your nightstand waiting for you

٠࣪⭑ it took you awhile to feel fully comfortable around Dante. since he is a beautiful man around twenty years your senior, he was quite intimidating in that way

٠࣪⭑ but once you did get comfortable and he got a glimpse of the not so innocent side of you, he wanted to know more

٠࣪⭑ “so um, Dante, I was wondering..” you trailed off one day when the two of you were cuddling on his couch, your hand lazily drawing circles on his chest.

“wondering what, sweetheart?” his voice was so smooth and husky, you felt more nervous than before.

“i-if you don’t want to, that’s totally okay, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but um..” you fiddled with your fingers, “I was wondering if you’d be willing to like…”

the end of your sentence was a quiet mumble and he couldn’t quite hear you.

“what was that? you gotta speak up sweetheart. don’t be shy I won’t judge.”

“I want you to fuck me in the ass!” you blurted out quickly before hiding your face behind your hands.

٠࣪⭑ that was information you should’ve never revealed to Dante. he had never had a woman tell him that before. ever. so to say he was excited is an understatement.

٠࣪⭑ he goes all out. buys you all sorts of toys, like a pretty pink glass butt plug

٠࣪⭑ Dante always makes sure you’re relaxed and comfortable. he eases you into it, even if you’re eager he is persistent on being gentle

٠࣪⭑ “I’ll start nice ‘n slow for you baby. gotta make sure my sweet girl is comfortable, I want you to feel good.”

٠࣪⭑ Dante is so overprotective

٠࣪⭑ don’t even think about asking him to take you on a ride on his motorcycle.

“absolutely not.”

“why not?” you whined, it was rare that Dante told you no.

“it’s dangerous baby, the last thing I’m gonna do is put my sweet girl in a risky situation.” he’d tell you with a stern look on his face.

٠࣪⭑ but don’t worry, he’ll make it up to you! the best way he knows how.

٠࣪⭑ he’d pull you onto his face his lap and pepper your face with soft kisses, his stubble tickling your cheeks making you giggle and push him away

“okay, okay! I’ll stop asking, just quit it!” you squealed between laughs.

٠࣪⭑ you loooove sitting on his lap. Dante is sooo warm and big, being engulfed in his muscular arms and burying your face in his chest feels so good

٠࣪⭑ despite what others may assume, Dante smells amazing. maybe it’s the pheromones, but his natural musk is enough to make you drool

٠࣪⭑ you’re so down bad for him. it shocks everyone including him. he would come home covered in demon blood, sweat, and dirt, and despite that you’d immediately embrace him the second he walked through the front door.

“Dante!” you shouted, wrapping your arms around his large frame.

“hey sweetheart,” he’d say, a hand patting your head lovingly before he gently tries push you away. “baby, I’m so disgusting. lemme take a quick shower then we can cuddle, yeah?”

“no!” you whined, “missed you. smell so good. can’t let you go, need you so bad. thought about you every day.” you mumbled, face pressed against his chest.

he’d just sigh and pick you up, if you wouldn’t let go then you’d just have to join him in the shower.

٠࣪⭑ the first time you called him daddy he was caught off guard.

“c’mon pleaaase,” you whined, begging him to take you out to your favorite club. it was a Saturday night for God’s sake, there was no way you could stay home and do nothing! “I’ll be a good girl for you daddy, promise.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed, “what did you just call me?”

you looked up at him with a pout on your lips, “what? don’t like when i call you that, daddy?”

he scoffed, meeting your gaze with his own, his pupils blown wide. “oh you poor sweet girl, you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“why don’t you show me then, daddy.”

let’s just say you didn’t go out that night.

٠࣪⭑ I think when you first started dating Dante and you met Nero and Vergil, they’d be hesitant about your relationship. you’re so young and Dante is so old

٠࣪⭑ but when they got to know you, they too fell for your charm and saw why Dante is so in love with you

٠࣪⭑ now that doesn’t mean they understand why you’re in love with him, but they were supportive nonetheless

٠࣪⭑ Dante would be eager to propose. he loves you so much and has never felt this way about anyone before

٠࣪⭑ he’d definitely go to Nero and Kyrie for advice on how to propose, they seem to know a thing or two about long term romance

٠࣪⭑ he’d take on extra missions to afford a nice ring for you. for once Dante has motivation!

٠࣪⭑ unfortunately after all of his planning, his extravagant proposal plans fell through. he was just too excited by the thought of you being his fiancé, his wife.

٠࣪⭑ despite him proposing to you in the middle of the night outside of a shitty 24 hour diner, you were elated and said yes as soon as he got down on one knee and popped open the box.

it went something like this:

“that sundae was so good! I love going out for sweet treats with you.” you gushed, holding his arm tight and cuddling into his side as he walked you to the passenger side of his car.

you looked so beautiful with your messy hair, drowning in one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. Dante couldn’t help but admire you. you make his chest feel warm, you give him purpose, you make him feel human.

when you reached the car, he hesitated opening your door for just a moment.

“Dante? is something wrong?”

he looked as if he was deep in thought.

“No, I..” his voice trailed off, “fuck.” he swore quietly before turning to face you and grabbing your hands.

“I wanted this to go differently, but I can’t wait any longer.”

he let go of your hands, dropping onto one knee and reaching into his pocket to pull out a black velvet box, opening it to reveal a beautiful ring. his hands were slightly shaky as he held it up to you.

“(y/n), I knew from the second I met you-”

“yes, yes yes yes yes yes! oh my god yes!!!” you squealed, throwing yourself into his arms and hugging him tightly.

“baby! I had a whole speech prepared, don’t you wanna hear it?”

“sorry! I couldn’t wait!” you kissed every inch of his face before finally pulling him in for a steamy kiss. it’s not unlike you guys to makeout in public.

when you finally pulled away, you gave him a wild look before leaning up to his ear and whispering, “so, you wanna show me what being your wife entails?”

٠࣪⭑ having that ring changed something in you.

٠࣪⭑ the second you made it home, all clothes were off immediately! no time for foreplay! you had the entire drive home to get worked up for him.

٠࣪⭑ “mmm c’mon, daddy! give it to me. want you so bad, wanna be a good girl for you!” you babbled, already so needy for his dick from his mere touch.

٠࣪⭑ “be patient sweetheart, I wanna show you how much I love you.” he mumbled against your skin, lips leaving sloppy wet kisses from your neck down to your tits.

he went to take one into his mouth but you grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him up to face you.

“no time for that, i need you right now Dante, please!” you reached for his dick, trying to align him with your entrance but failing. he was much stronger than you.

“stop being such a damn brat and let daddy do what he wants.” he growled.

“can’t stop! need you inside me, wanna be your wife, want you to breed me, wanna have your babies!”

٠࣪⭑ oh!

٠࣪⭑ say less!

٠࣪⭑ he immediately folds

٠࣪⭑ “fuck, anything for you sweetheart. gonna make you my wife and a mommy, promise. just be a good girl for me and daddy will take care of you.”

٠࣪⭑ and then you live happily ever after the end

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“Good girl. That's it.” 

One of his big hands comes to brace your lower back as you arch. Your hand presses down firmly on his abdomen and your knees dig into the sheets on the wool mattress. You moan his name as you feel your climax approaching. Oliver sees that as an opportunity to help you further, both of his hands go back to gripping your waist as he begins bouncing you up and down his hard cock. His tip rubbing against that special part inside you that makes you see stars.

Oliver pushes his feet into the bed, giving him more leverage to fuck up into your tight heat. You bounce even harder on top of him, your walls clenching and spasming around his length as you reach your peak.

“O- Oliver! ” You scream his name as you finally hit your peak. Hot spurts of liquid squirts out of your cunt, coating Oliver’s thighs, cock, and pelvis. 

He never stops pumping into you. Slowly rutting his hips up into your cunt while you ride out the last few seconds of your orgasms. 

“My god look at you.” He runs a calloused thumb through your lips which are still wrapped around his cock. “You're so beautiful.” 

He sits up to kiss you deeply. Your arms wrap around his neck as he shifts positions to place you on your back.

Quickly he moves your legs so that they rest is in the crook of his elbows, putting you in a mating press. His hips snap into you rapidly. You can feel his cock twitch inside you as he reaches his own climax. Loud whimpers fall from his lips as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, babbling on about how beautiful you are and how good you feel.

With a few more thrust Oliver shakes, moaning loudly as he cums inside of you, flooding your cunt with his load. “So beautiful.” He kisses up and down your neck as you card your fingers through his sweat damp hair. You stay like this for a while until he settles and you both drift off to sleep.

It was a brief encounter from your Major, a press of his arm against your own when as he stepped beside you at the bar. You take a sip of your drink, just having laid the rim between your lips before you felt his presence brush against you.

“Meet me in my suite, 2100, alone, I got something I want to show you,” it was a steady command, quiet under the booming jazz music being blasted on the stage right ahead.

You turn, wearing a face of disbelief. But he’s already split the crowd and headed to the door, you only get a glimpse of his brown jacket in the sea of bodies before he’s gone.

You’d felt a pull to your superior ever since you joined the SAS, ever since you stepped foot in the sandy world that is mostly inhabited by sweaty, cocky men. You stood out, not only because you were one of the only females, but also because you stood your ground. You have seen Paddy watching you from afar more times than you can count. He’s pushed you around and prodded your better judgements – but never without a hushed praise in the background. None of the others take notice of the way Paddy’s treated you and you prefer it that way.

You would have rejected had he still been standing beside you – explained to him how inappropriate it is for a lower rank like yourself to be put in a situation alone with her superior. But you’d be lying to him and yourself if you denied your curiosity. You’d be lying if you admitted that that invitation didn’t send prickled waves up the divots of your spine and cooked your skin until it blushed red.

2100? You could make that work.

The hotel had a cover of smoke dancing on the ceiling, swirling around each person that snakes their way through the hallways. Paddy had no lack of money, with the rank he was at, yet he gets the cheapest hotel in the Italy area to spend his free time? For some reason, it didn’t surprise you.

You made it to his door, after knocking, you took your hat off, smacking the raindrops off the surface. Its been raining here for nearly three days straight, everything was flooded and soggy, including your clothes. You loved the rain, but not this much.

Paddy opened the door, inviting you in but not looking at you, eyes cast outside of the door, looking for strangers.

“C’mon then,” he whispers, pressing a hand to the small of your back and ushering you inside.

The room was warm, dry and quiet compared to the chaotic hallways just outside the door. The patter of rain accented the background noise of the tv in the corner. He shuts the door behind you, watching you closely as you step in further - when you see him.

There’s a man on his knees in the living room, right beside the couch. His head is hung low, black hair layered and shining in the mellowed aura of the flat.

“That’s Remmick,” Paddy says, noticing your puzzled expression. “He was in the auction, in the city? I bought him almost two weeks ago; he’s been my company here.”

You pass the entry-way and kneel in front of him, taking in the way he doesn’t look up, but his fingertips dance on his thighs, twitch, as soon as you’re close enough to smell.

“The oddities auction?” you don’t look to Paddy, not as your eyes scan over the man, as his body vibrates but he pretends it isn’t.

“Aye, he’s…not human,”

You arch your finger under his chin, pulling his face up to look at you. He doesn’t fight it and allows your gazes to lock. His face was soft, edges worn but cut from a gentle fabric. He didn’t look too old either, maybe in his early twenties. Something inside your chest tightens – but you aren’t sure why. Maybe you feel sorry for him? Those dark blue eyes tunnel into you with a story you don’t understand. But he doesn’t need to tell you because you feel a connection immediately.

“What are you?” you ask him, eyes only separating from your connected gaze to watch Paddy take a seat on the sofa behind him.

Remmick doesn’t answer – though his lips parted and a breath escapes. His eyes break from yours, landing back on his lap. He's ashamed of what he is? Or is it something else?

“You can tell her,” Paddy’s voice was softened with something sweet, a kindness not offered to anyone else – not even you. “She is kind. She will understand.”

You tilt your head, listening as his lips move with whispers of words but nothing you can make out. The mumbles settle in his throat and no matter how close you get, you cannot hear them. But he keeps repeating himself, in a language you don’t understand.

The words cut when you place your hands on his in his lap – his back straightens by instinct.

“Go'n, Little Bat. You can tell her.” Paddy assures.

“Vampire,” it escapes Remmick’s mouth like a curse. As if he said it louder it would shred the walls apart and topple them in on you. But nothing changes, nothing falters.

“Well,” you lift his head again, seeing the glaze of black that flicks over the irises before they land on you again. “You’ll just be Remmick to me.”

Something changes in him. Something snapped. Some wire has been pulled tight and released. Those black eyes trace down your body with no remorse, taking in the subtle curves of your hips. The way your shirt splits open, carving out the softness of your breasts. The way its so perfectly stuck to your skin from the rain. He inhales deep through his nose, exhaling with a growled rumble.

He was hungry. He was STARVING.

“Remmick,” the word from Paddy was enough to cause Remmick to blink the heaviness away. “Be respectful.”

“What? What was he doing?” you know your body reacted, you felt a line of hot, burning pain wherever his eyes wondered. Where they sat for a while, where they longed.

“You can't smell it? Vampires give off that scent when they’re aroused.”

Your eyes shoot to Paddy and a scolded look meets him. He reclines further into the couch in response, splaying his arms over the back, watching you. The calm that fills him puts you more on edge than the look of hunger Remmick gave you moments ago.

So, he wasn’t lying?

“Ye gonna scare her away,” he casts his sight to Remmick. “Come here,”

Remmick takes no time, shooting over to Paddy in record speed and kneeling before him. He rests his head on Paddy’s leg, like a dog waiting to be scratched – eyes up and begging. Paddy tisks, fingers slipping through the black layers of hair on Remmick’s head.

You swore you heard the vampire purr.

“Sorry if he scared ya,” Paddy has such a softness about him when he looks to the man knelt before him. A knot grips tight in your stomach, pooling with an arousal you cannot explain.

Remmick takes a heavy breath, sniffing the air once, twice, before his head spins to you. His lips spread into a wicked smile, and he lets out a little content noise before he pulls his attention back to the Irishmen.

He knew you were getting aroused. He could smell it.

Paddy seems to take no mind of Remmick’s response, continuing to run his fingers through his hair. Paddy is speaking to you, saying something about how he acquired Remmick and where. But you hear nothing. Embarrassment and anxiety kick in full speed inside of you – you can’t stay.

As you lift one knee to get yourself to your feet, as you open your mouth to make some excuse as to why you can’t stay – Remmick moves.

He pushes himself up between Paddy’s legs, nuzzling his nose into the divot of his neck, pressing it there firmly. Paddy’s fingers wrap around the vampire’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer, forcing their bodies together. You watch as Remmick’s mouth opens, tongue laying flat against Paddy’s neck before it trails up. His tongue was long – too long.

Paddy’s eyes flutter for just a moment when Remmick’s teeth drag over his earlobe. Your throat tightens, your world stills.

“You are allowed to leave if you’d like,” Paddy offers, eyes still shut, head falling back into the couch. “Or…you can stay.”

You felt the need to leave, but it was shrouded by something wet. By something blanketed and heavy.

Remmick only releases Paddy’s ear to shoot a glance your way, buried into his neck, tongue out and ready to connect with skin again. His eyes were black, pitted but alive. They were an invitation and somehow you knew you could never deny that invitation.

When you stand, both men still, Remmick slips from Paddy’s lap only to twist and look at you. He rests his head on Paddy’s knee, waiting. He knew – he fucking knew.

And so did Paddy, by the wicked smile that cracked onto his lips.

“C’mere, Pretty Thing,” his voice was satin and honey – silky, sweet, thick. He pats his lap, brushing fingers past the stitching on his brown army pants, thumb hooking into the belt.

They were in no rush, not as you stand there and process. Both sets of eyes watch you in wait – one heavy with a need of his own, the other studied and inviting.

You were making your way to Paddy before your brain could protest – before it could unwind and crack at the seams. Because your core was seeping lava, Remmick’s eyes promised relief and Paddy’s lap offered the perfect place be broken apart.

Once you get to Paddy’s legs, he pauses you, eyes scanning you over, slowly, meticulously. You freeze; bumps riddle your skin where his icy eyes wonder. “Remmick,” he calls, in which the vampire’s attention snaps to the Irishman. “Help her out of her dress.”

Remmick is on his feet and slipping behind you like a cloud of smoke in seconds. A shadow – silent and dark. You smelled him before you felt him, his chest whispering a touch against your back. He smelled like smoke and cedar. Like a fire in the woods. Like darkness and want.

When his fingers curl around the hem of your skirt, you flinch, gasping in such a pathetic way. But the purr beside your ear keeps you centered. “Calm,” Remmick’s slick voice advises. “No need to be afraid.”

The tip of his nose presses to the back of your ear, inhaling. The exhale was dark, something twisting in his stomach. A quiet ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth as he inches your skirt up.

After the dress was up and over your shoulders, the chilly winter air in the room had time to lick at your skin. Paddy rests back further into the couch, eyes hooded, legs crossed in such a casual way. Like you weren’t being taken apart and displayed right before him.

Remmick’s fingers tunnel around your hips, nails scraping the skin on your stomach. Just enough to leave small red lines, not enough to hurt. “Remmick,” the word exits Paddy’s mouth with authority, and the vampire stiffens, stepping back from you and dropping to his knees.

What in fucks name has gotten this vampire so submissive, so pliant?

Looking to him, his head is dropped, but his black eyes scanned what he could see from that view. Your legs, your feet. His fingers squeeze his knees – restraining. He was restraining himself.

Uncrossing his legs, Paddy pats his lap, inviting you to sit. You are in his lap with only three steps. He doesn’t let you straddle him, no, he spins you and forces your ass into his crotch. Forces your back into his chest, so you are facing Remmick, not him. You feel the hardened cock under his tan trousers, you feel it twitch with every subtle movement you make to ground yourself. Your head was feather light, pounding and spinning in slow motion. You can feel your heart in your throat, heavy, clogging the swallows you force.

Paddy traces his fingers past your sides, over the softened edges of your hips and up your ribs. You hear his breathing shatter only once when his fingers slip under the band of your bra, unclipping it. You shrug it off, it splats to the floor on Paddy’s shoes.

Remmick watches. He watches as your bra is loosened. He adjusts on his knees to get a better view as your breasts are released, exposed and peaked. His jaw twitches, blinking, taking in the sight. He whispers something, silent, but you cannot hear it over the pulse in your ears.

Paddy hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, positioning your ass directly over his strained cock, gluing your naked form firmly against his chest. As Remmick took your dress off, he discarded his army jacket – leaving him just in a tank top, his dog tags resting over his chest. That gave you the perfect view of those tailored muscles in his arms. The veins that travel down them to those thickened fingers. And his sandy hair fell so perfectly in his eyes as he watched the dress be pulled over your head.

Fuck.

“We need these gone,” his fingers drop to the sides of your panties. “They hold back all the fun, aye?” His mouth was on your ear, close enough you could feel his teeth brushing your earlobe. His voice was hot, breath whirling into your nose. His breath smelled like cigarettes and alcohol, but his skin was clean. For all the moments you saw him covered in dust and mud in the desert, for all the times you watched his skin shine with sweat – he was surprisingly clean now.

The metallic click of metal straightens your back before your eyes meet the sharp army knife in Paddy’s hand. You have no time to question him before the blade is looped under the sides of your panties. One firm yank and the fabric is shredded apart against the blade. Your panties are gone sooner than you’d like them to be, but you don’t fight it, actually you help lift your hips to discard the fabric to the floor, letting it puddle right next to your bra.

Now here you are. Completely naked – completely exposed. With two men on either side of you – waiting.

Paddy clicks his knife closed, tossing it on his jacket on the couch. His hands greedily grab at your thighs, brushing back and forth, feeling the softened skin on the innermost parts. Where stretch marks have painted the skin in pink lines. His nails travel those lines, mouth still on your ear. His breathing has quickened, mouth wet and warm against your ear. His eyes are on Remmick though, who is unraveling in his own way.

“What is it, Little Bat?” Paddy asks, with condescension heavy in the notes. “Would you like to touch her?”

Remmick doesn’t hide his excitement as it tents in his sweatpants. He sits with, almost pride, ahead of you. His eyes stay black, frozen on your cunt. You swore you saw a prickle of sweat shine on his forehead.

Paddy hooks your legs over his knees, holding your hips firmly against him so you can’t move. He then spreads his legs with excruciating calm, his breath catching when the room whispers with the sound of your legs parting. You were pathetically wet with the sound of your lips parting. Of your slick spreading as he forces your legs far apart, displaying your cunt to the air, open, blossomed. You squirm, embarrassment hot in your cheeks.

But that sound, the sound of your wetness being exposed, sends both men into a frenzy.

“Would you like to taste her?” Paddy’s question was wicked, layered with a darkness you couldn’t place. When you squirm, when you attempt to roll your hips to close your legs, Paddy’s grip on your hips grows more iron-tight.

Remmick nods at his master, tongue flicking out, licking his lips. An embarrassing amount of drool exits his mouth as he does, but he takes no notice.

“Alright, you’ve been so good. I’ll let you have the first taste.”

Remmick is on his feet, racing to you like an award he never thought he’d win. Dropping once more to his knees between your legs, you whimper. You continue to move, with any attempt to close your legs, but Paddy holds you firm, giving a nasty dark chuckle in your ear at your attempts.

Your nails bite at the fabric on Paddy’s legs, digging deep, grasping for anything that could get you relief, but the second you feel Remmick against you, your fight suddenly disperses.

His nose meets the sensitive skin on your cunt first, nuzzling back and forth, unfolding you across his face. When his nose connects with your clit, your body is shot with electricity. Gasping, your eyes shoot to the ceiling, trying to distract your mind, but there truly was no use in it. He nuzzles further, burying his face fully inside you, running his nose firmly against your clit. Starting at the tip of his nose, he lowers, dragging the bony bridge against you. His hands shoot up as you begin to wiggle, locking your knees on either side of Paddy’s. Paddy sighs in your ear, keeping you secure on him, soaking in the way your breaths pick up, the way your palms warm up against his legs.

“How does it feel?” He asks you, taking a moment to nuzzle his own nose into the crook of your neck – the stubble on his lip scratching your skin.

You couldn’t answer - not fully. Remmick works on you expertly, nails biting into your knees as his mouth rounds your opening. He keeps his nose running up and down the bundle of nerves first, savoring the way your back arches, the way your mouth drops open. Only when his lengthened tongue traces around your opening is when you respond in kind with a yelped moan.

“Hold on, Pup,” Paddy says and with a low growl, the vampire separates from his feast.

Paddy sits up, straightening your back as he does. The free arm that isn’t wrapped around your hips reaches up, grabbing your chin with a force that feels familiar for him. He yanks your head down, leveling your eyes once more with Remmick.

“Look what you’ve done to him,” He breathes. “And you won’t tell him how good it feels, ey?”

Remmick’s face shone in the yellow lights beside the couch. His jaw, across his lips and up his nose lay coated in your wet – embarrassingly so. Though, as you watch him further, you can see a good amount of that is also accompanied by his own saliva. He bites down on his lip hard, fangs growing at a rapid rate as his eyes train to your still splayed pussy.

“It feels…” you take a deep breath; it shakes in your chest. “So good, please.”

“Please, what?” Paddy draws.

“I need more,” the need in your tone was undeniable.

“Need more, or want more, Baby?”

“Both?”

He smiles against your skin, satisfied with your answer. “N’how does she taste, Wee One?” his eyes flick to Remmick.

Remmick opens his mouth, his lips moving to murmur any kind of word, but the only thing that escapes is a low moan before he’s able to collect himself. “Please let me continue.” Were the only words he could manage.

Paddy nods, loosening the grip on your chin so its not quite as painful, but not letting you go quite yet. Remmick is between your legs once more in one whisper of movement, mouth attaching and working over you as if he’d never left.

“Go’on and watch, Birdy.” Paddy demands, pulling your chin down, forcing your eyes on Remmick whose lost between your legs. The sight of him, of his black eyes, fluttering closed as his tongue slips past your clit, down your folds, prodding your entrance with desperation. A sickness pools in your stomach in a way you cannot explain and you whimper, making any attempt to move, but Paddy has you glued to him. The more you fight, the further he pushes you into Remmick. The more the Vampire’s teeth scrape against skin, the more his tongue tunnels inside of you - impossibly deep.

You find yourself begging, for what you weren’t quite sure, but the words gush from your mouth in such a pathetic plea - music to their ears.

“There’s a good girl,” Paddy praises, his fingers releasing your jaw, moving to press two against your lips. He lets out a long moan as you instantly open your mouth for his fingers, diving them down deep into your throat, sucking heavy. He tastes metallic – gunmetal and weaponry. A taste you’d never had before, but not one you’d deny again.

“You want me?” his voice was weakened and for a moment, the question sounded more like a plea, not a demand. “You want my cock?”

You nod urgently, splitting his fingers apart with your tongue, swirling it around, weakening his resolve just with your tongue on his fingers.

Again, he demands Remmick to sit back, and like the good pet he was he obeys. His eyes are now shining red, shimmering hot like coals. He must have cut you in some way, because his lips are smeared in a pinkish red tint. He pants where he sits, eyes lidded, mouth curved into a wicked smile. He was absolutely drunk off of you, wild with a need that’s gripped his inner ghost tight. He didn’t know what Paddy’s next move was, but if it involved you both being naked in front of him – he was fucking ready.

Paddy releases you in a rush, allowing you to lift from his lap. While he hurries to strip himself of his clothes, you turn your attention to Remmick. Winding your fist in his shirt, you yank him toward you. He topples forward, wearing that same smile before your lips connect. You tasted yourself on his lips, your sweetness and salt. You tasted blood and sins and malice. In a swift movement, his t shirt is pulled over his head, and your hands are traveling the divot between his pecs. He deepens the kiss as his hand winds into the back of your hair, pulling you toward him ever so gently. His touch was fragile compared to Paddy, but still urgent, nonetheless. He kisses like he’d not tasted a women in centuries, like if his lips weren’t working over yours in such a delightful way, he’d never taste a women again. Your fingers shift to the subtle indents down his stomach until they rest on the aching tent in his sweatpants. A pathetic wet spot stains the surface where he’s leaked through and as your palm presses into the head, he crumbles apart. The most beautiful moan escapes him, stilling his lips on yours. You sucked the life from him as your hand moves on him through his clothes. The way his breaths twists into a song of moans and whimpers – shoots further hot, soaked arousal between your own legs.

“You both are so pretty,” Paddy’s voice is suddenly behind you and when you turn your head to look at him, he captures your lips with his own. His lips were layered in whisky, in sunshine and salt. Two men for you – two different specimens. His hands slip around your waist, fingers moving low until they connect with your clit. You gasp into his mouth as he pinches it between two fingers, rolling it up and down the digits with perfect pressure. Remmick is pressed to your chest, directing your hand to the waistband of his pants as his mouth meets your neck wetly, trailing dangerous marks down the side as you kiss Paddy deeper.

Here you were, pinned between two men, one pleasuring and kissing you, the other marking you and begging to be touched. It was all too much. It was all too perfect.

Remmick’s mouth parts, scratching the softened skin on the side of your neck with the sharpened tips of his fangs. He doesn’t break the skin, just presses enough to line the surface, raise the skin, mark you up. The moment your hand slips past his waistband and wraps around his length, his teeth still. The sound that exits his mouth was dangerous – overtaken with lust and darkness. He vibrates against you when your thumb traces over the head, coating the tip with his precum. He was so touch starved, so hungry, so crazed.

You only break from Paddy’s kiss to focus on the pain that suddenly etched into your neck. His teeth no longer scrape - they bury. Not deep, not enough to bleed you out, but just enough to get the taste of your blood on his tongue. He was losing himself and Paddy sensed it, stiffening behind you, with reprimand ready. But you move first, wrapping your fingers around the base of his throat and squeezing.

“Look at me,” you breathe and to your surprise, he does. Separating from the suction he had on your neck leaves a wet noise ringing in your ear.

He was fucking beautiful like this. Blood washing his teeth as he gives you a feral smile that only reads as mania for you. His hair falls over his shining eyes, stringy from the sweat on his brow. He licks his teeth, lowering his head to give you a look of animal hunting prey. You have unwound him.

“If you kill me, I cannot make you feel good,” you remind him, giving his cock one slow, slow pump. His eyes flash, mellowing out as his face contorts into pleasure. He nods, suddenly obeisant – falling back on his knees. “Will you be good?”

His eyes flick to Paddy who watches with sharpness just behind you, chest plastered to your back, limbs in a mess around you. Both of you have power over this man, somehow, and Paddy was filled with pride that you’ve discovered this power on your own.

Another slow nod from the vampire awards him with yet another pump on him and you lean in, capturing his bloody mouth in yours. You suck his bottom lip between your teeth, biting down with about the same amount of force he used on your neck – reminding him of the pain – of you. His weakened gasps inject into your mouth and ache your core further, drive you into further madness, heating your bones and consuming your thoughts.

Paddy allows you both to make out for a while, he allows Remmick to taste you, to feel you as you pleasure him. But when he pulls you back, when he separates you both with a hard yank, you know you were his.

“That’s enough,” he growls to the both of you, offering the two of you a darkened look. “Let’s fuck her, shall we, Pup?”

He scoops you up in a quick movement, balancing most of your weight on one arm as he makes his way back to the couch with you. Remmick follows silently like a dog on a leash, like a pet waiting to be praised. He was pliable, fully and pathetically.

Paddy sits, resting you in his lap only long enough to share a kiss with you. His kisses were so different – dominate and claiming in a whole new way. His facial hair rubs against you, leaving a red rash where the hairs have scraped too hard with the deepening kiss.

“Go on then,” He spins you on his lap, so you are straddling his legs, facing Remmick once more with your back against his front.

You felt Paddy’s cock wobble between your legs, threatening your heat, but he doesn’t force you down. Because you move before he even could. Lowering yourself encases his cock with your slick, with your want and desire. It was rather sad how easily he slipped inside of you with how wet you were for them. Dropping down further, you gasp when the stretch of him burns your walls for a moment. He praises you from behind, hands anchored on your hips, allowing you to descend on him with all the time you need. Remmick watches, shifting, mouth open, hand down his pants, pumping himself as he studies the way your cunt settles fully on Paddy. Somehow, you take him fully, nestling warmly inside of you. The moment you shift to move up, to get friction, Paddy’s fingers squeeze, forcing your hips in place.

“Mmm, not so fast. I want you to savor how it feels for me to fill you first.” He whispers in his thick accent. “We are going to fucking ruin you.”

Remmick darts forward, hands lifting to cherish the display ahead of him. There you were, spread wide open, stuffed full and quivering. And there Paddy was, buried deep, shaking with a subtle ache of his own. Remmick wants to worship you both, he wants everything and everyone. His fingers meet your swollen clit first, rolling them in circles as his other hand drifts down, cupping Paddy’s aching balls. Both of you react in sound, a leaky wet breath exits you both in a song of pleasure and Paddy’s fingers loosen for just a moment. He was taken over.

“Fuck,” he swallows as Remmick’s fingers brush past the sensitive skin there, gently cupping but after, firmly squeezing. Paddy was nothing if not a sucker for pain.

You felt his cock respond inside of you, pulsing in rhythm with each squeeze. But, the moment Remmick’s mouth meets you both, you shatter. His tongue starts at your clit, sucking it into his mouth, cherishing the way he can feel not only your pulse, but also Paddy jolts inside the skin just below. His mouth drifts, the tip of his tongue skimming down to the base of Paddy’s cock that wasn’t nestled inside you, right above his balls. Remmick looks up, eyes heavy and wet as he sucks a ball into his mouth, pulling down with intent. Paddy jerks, releasing your hips and now you both can unravel him – the Major General. You quickly lift yourself up, cheeks painting red as the wet sound of you rolling up his cock slicks the air, before you drop back down. You begin a harsh bob on him, rolling your hips over and over. Both you and Remmick LOVE the weakened whines that leave him, the way he falls back into the couch and gives up all sense of authority.

Remmick lifts, pulling your chin to him and kissing you, moving in fluid as you bounce on Paddy’s throbbing cock. Remmick cups your breasts, thumbing the swollen nipples. He pinches down hard, chuckling evilly into your mouth as you curse. You feel Paddy gasp and he shoves himself inside you urgently, his resolve fully broken. With no warning, he stills you on him and you feel his heat as he releases. He says something, but both you and Remmick ignore him. You topple off of Paddy, tossing Remmick to the floor.

“Do you want to finish with me?” You ask him and in response he rolls you under him, hands slapping down on either side of your head. He hovers over you, sucking in breaths like a lifeline. His teeth are bared, eyes swirling – but fuck was he beautiful when he was mad.

Surprisingly, with how crazed he looks, he dips down to offer you a softened kiss, a whisper of lips on lips. A loving embrace as he guides your legs over his hips. You had no idea when his pants came off, but you had no time to question before he’s entering you with one single thrust. Your wet, mixed with Paddy’s cum, makes for the perfect lubricant. His mouth works over yours – all teeth and temptation. His thrusts are timed, guided by the response in your body. Every time you moan, every time you say his name, his body acts in kind. Paddy reclines on the couch, propping a cigarette in his mouth as he watches the show ahead of him. Remmick has needed this – HE has needed this – you were perfect for them.

“You take me so well,” he gushes into your mouth, tossing a harsh thrust inside of you. “Can you show me how pretty you sing when you cum? Come on, show me, Pretty Girl.”

This is the most Remmick has spoken the whole interaction and the words were layered in such filth, such praise – your body just had to respond. Arching up, you pull his hips down into you with your legs still locked around them. That last connection, that last brush against the spongey sweet spot inside of you undoes you and you cry out when you cum. The dance of your walls over him, the greedy way they flutter with your orgasm does him in as well and he shudders into your ear as he cums inside of you. Pumping a few times, spreading his seed all inside you – marking you. You were theirs now and truly, they had no intention of letting you leave. Not now, not ever.

I feel like he lets you do whatever you want, but he judges himself for nearly everything he does (depending on what Ed you're after.) 

Like you can have an army of plushies, and he supports your endeavors, but there is constantly a tiny voice in his head that tells him he should feel ashamed for having a teddy bear and that it's childish of him. He would def appreciate the reassurance but it's gonna take a long ass while for you to finally convince him it's okay to sleep with a teddy bear. 

And that's not really the only time this would come up. He probably feels the same way in regards to mental health. He's constantly on the verge of having a breakdown at any given moment and he just tells himself to suck it up, but God forbid you happen to be in a similar position because then he's doing everything he can to make you feel better and secure. 

But on the other hand, I can 100% see Ultimis Richtofen being an absolute menace and indulging in all sorts of weird behaviors with you because he no longer has the sanity to give a flying fuck lmfao. So yeah, what if he has an army of plushies? What about it? Say anything and he'll spend a few hours making a DIY monkey bomb (or would it be a teddy bomb? bunny bomb? whatever plushie he can get his hands on, I guess.) 

“This is goin’ in the end scenes,” Remmick announces from behind the camera, his voice carrying through the cramped upstairs bedroom as the lens follows you across the faded floral wallpaper. “Show everybody how serious our little actress takes her craft.”

You turn toward him with one false eyelash already glued into place and the other pinched between your fingers, rolling your eyes dramatically. The yellow sundress they picked for you hangs open at the back, its halter ties dangling against your bare shoulders as you lean closer to the vanity mirror and carefully press the strip of lashes along your lid.

“Keep talkin’, farmer boy,” you murmur, smoothing the lash down with one painted nail. “You’re the one who forgot his line six times last week.”

Remmick lowers the camera enough for you to catch his crooked smile above it. He’s already dressed for the scene, though calling it dressed seems generous when his faded overalls are hanging from his hips without a shirt underneath. A red handkerchief sits loosely around his neck, his boots are dusty from walking around the property earlier, and somebody—Stack—has rubbed a little dirt across his chest to make him look like he has spent the morning pitching hay instead of helping you arrange camera angles.

“That scene required concentration,” he says, adjusting the focus as you reach behind yourself to fasten the sundress. “Hard to remember dialogue when you’ve got your mouth full.”

“You weren’t the one with your mouth full,” you remind him, catching his reflection in the mirror.

“That was the concentration problem.”

Remmick has been unbearable since Stack bought the Super 8 from a man outside Memphis and declared that enough lonely perverts owned projectors for the three of you to build a business around them. Stack handles the advertisements, the mailing list, and the plain brown packaging meant to keep curious postmen from learning what is hidden inside. Remmick develops every reel in a washroom he converted himself, spending long nights hunched beneath red light while the films dry from lines stretched above the basin. You provide the pretty face stamped across the catalogues and the body responsible for nearly every repeat customer they have.

Honey Belle is supposed to be your most ambitious picture yet, complete with costumes, an actual plot, and a title card Stack painted by hand after three beers. 

You play the sweet farmer’s daughter left alone after her daddy drives into town. Remmick plays the quiet farmhand who has spent all summer watching you carry baskets across the yard in your little dresses. Stack arrives in a pearl-snap shirt with a story about car trouble, and Honey Belle’s understanding of Southern hospitality becomes increasingly indecent after she invites him inside for lemonade.

By the time Remmick carries the camera downstairs, Stack is waiting beside the front door with his hat tilted low and his shirt unbuttoned just enough to expose the chain resting against his chest. He glances up when you descend the stairs, his gaze sweeping from the ribbons tied into your hair to the way the sundress clings to the soft give of your hips.

“Well, damn,” Stack drawls, reaching beneath the brim of his hat to scratch his temple. “Ain’t you just precious.”

You spread the skirt of your dress and give him a small curtsy, keeping your smile sugary enough to suit Honey Belle even as his eyes settle shamelessly on the tops of your breasts. 

The costume department consists entirely of the three of you and a closet full of things purchased from yard sales, though Stack has treated his cowboy role with the seriousness of a Hollywood leading man. He even polished his belt buckle.

Remmick checks the film, points the camera toward the front door, and gives Stack a lazy signal with two fingers. Stack steps outside, waits until you have taken your place in the parlor, then knocks three times against the screen door.

You open it with your hands folded sweetly over your skirt, blinking up at him beneath your heavy lashes as the camera rolls from across the room.

“Afternoon, miss,” Stack says, removing his hat and pressing it over his chest. His other hand hooks through his belt, the pose practiced enough that you know he tried it in the mirror before coming downstairs. “Hate to trouble you, but my car gave out a ways down the road. Reckon I could use your telephone?”

Your character does not have a telephone, though she does have a pitcher of lemonade and very little sense when a handsome stranger smiles at her. You invite him inside, take his hat, and guide him toward the kitchen with your fingers wrapped around his wrist. Remmick follows with the camera, capturing Stack’s eyes drifting toward your ass each time the dress sways above your thighs.

The first part goes nearly according to plan: you pour lemonade, Stack asks whether your father is home, you tell him Daddy has gone into town and will not return until supper, pausing to suck a drop of sugar from your thumb as Stack watches your mouth.

Then you lean across the table to refill his glass and give the camera a perfect view down your dress.

Stack clears his throat before setting his glass aside. “That farmhand of yours always lurk around?” he asks, gesturing toward the window where Remmick’s character is supposedly spying from the yard. 

“He’s sweet on me,” you explain, slipping fully into a breathy little voice as you move around the table. “Daddy says Remmick’s got more muscle than brains, but I think he’s awful handsome.”

Remmick makes a quiet, offended noise from behind the camera. 

Stack catches your wrist when you pass his chair, drawing you between his spread knees with an ease that makes the lemonade tremble inside the glasses. “Maybe you oughta quit teasin’ that poor boy,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb across the soft underside of your wrist. “Fellow might get ideas.”

Honey Belle only giggles, resting one hand against his shoulder as his other palm travels beneath your skirt. The flimsy cotton lifts around his forearm, hiding what he is doing from the camera until your knees part and your expression goes pleasantly vacant. His rough fingers find the soaked crotch of your panties, pressing the fabric up between your plump lips so the wet heat coats his skin.

“Mister,” you breathe, gripping his shirt as his fingers slide beneath the white panties chosen specifically because they show up well on film.

Stack angles his body so the camera can catch his hand moving between your thighs, two fingers stroking through the slick gathering there. Your clit is swollen and sensitive under the pads of his fingers, and every slow circle makes your hips twitch. “All this hospitality for a stranger,” he says, tugging you closer until your legs press against the chair. “Your daddy know how friendly you are?”

You shake your head, lips parting when his fingers find your clit. 

Remmick circles the table, lowering the camera toward the place where Stack’s wrist disappears beneath your skirt before raising it again to capture your expression. The ribbons make you look especially soft and oblivious, which only becomes more convincing when two rough fingers sink into your cunt, walls soft and greedy as they suck at his knuckles, and the line you were supposed to say dissolves into a breathless little moan. 

“Thought you said you were a good girl,” Stack remarks, glancing toward the camera as he curls his fingers inside you. “You’re drippin’ all over my hand.”

Stack works you until the heel of his palm is slick, then removes his fingers and holds them apart for the camera, thin strands of your arousal shining between them. 

Remmick keeps the lens trained on his hand before cutting.

When it resumes, you’re bent over the kitchen table with your dress bunched around your waist and your panties hooked around one ankle. Stack stands behind you with his jeans pushed beneath his hips, his shirt hanging open and his cock jutting thickly from the shadow of his belt. The head is already wet by the time he takes himself in hand, rubbing it between your folds until your slick coats the flushed skin. 

“Make sure you get how wet she is,” Stack tells Remmick, slipping briefly out of character as he spreads you open with his thumb.

“Oh, I’ve got it,” Remmick answers from near your face, and the low amusement in his voice makes your cunt clench before Stack has even entered you.

He angles the head against your entrance and pushes, letting the swollen ridge stretch you gradually until it slips inside. Your mouth falls open toward the camera as the rest follows, each thick inch forcing your cunt wider until his hips finally settle against the soft curve of your ass. 

Stack had joked earlier that a stranger with a broken car ought to fuck like he has somewhere else to be, and he commits to that idea with enough enthusiasm to send the table grinding across the kitchen floor. His belt buckle knocks against the back of your thigh each time his hips meet your ass, the sharp clink joining the filthy sounds spilling from where his cock disappears into you, the dark hair at the root of his cock already shiny.

“Thought farmer’s daughters were supposed to be shy,” he pants, curling one hand around the back of your neck as your cheek presses against the tablecloth. “Look at you, takin’ a stranger’s dick before the lemonade’s even warm.”

You attempt to answer in Honey Belle’s breathless voice, though Stack drives into you harder and turns the words into a moan. Your tits are mashed against the table, the soft flesh spreading under your own weight, nipples dragging against the rough cloth with every thrust.

Remmick zooms in on the wet mess coating Stack’s shaft—cream already frothing white around the thick base—then slowly moves the camera along your body until the lens settles on your dazed expression.

“Tell the folks watchin’ what happened,” Remmick whispers, amusement roughening his accent as Stack holds you still for the shot.

“M-Mister Stack’s car broke down,” you manage, your lashes fluttering as Stack grinds deep and makes your voice climb. “So I’m helpin’ him.”

“Helping me plenty,” Stack groans, resuming his pace as he pulls your hips back against him. “Sweet little thing’s squeezin’ me like she wants me stranded here all summer.”

Remmick sets the camera on the tripod, grabs the prop, and swings the door open on cue. He pauses in the doorway with a feed sack thrown over one shoulder, staring at you folded over the table beneath the stranger who arrived less than half an hour earlier. 

You gasp and try to push yourself upright, though Stack’s hand returns to the back of your neck and keeps your cheek planted against the cloth.

“Remmick,” you whine, reaching toward him as if the devoted farmhand might rescue you. “It ain’t what it looks like.”

Remmick drops the sack near the door and crosses the kitchen slowly. “Looks like Daddy left his sweet girl alone,” he says, stopping beside the table as Stack continues fucking you. “And she went spreadin’ her legs for the first stray that wandered onto the property.”

Your eyes widen at the accusation, though the offended little pout you offer him disappears when Stack lands a firm smack against your ass, the sharp crack echoing. Remmick cups your chin, turning your face toward him as the table rocks beneath you.

“I was bein’ hospitable,” you insist, your voice growing softer when Remmick’s thumb presses between your lips. You suck it in without thinking, tasting salt and dirt and the faint metallic tang of the camera gear he’s been handling.

“Course you were, honey,” he murmurs, watching you suck the dirt from the pad of his thumb. “That empty little head couldn’t think of another way to help him.”

Stack laughs behind you, slowing into deep grinds that force his cock against every sensitive place at once. “You gonna stand there sulkin’, farm boy, or help me teach her how to entertain company?” 

Remmick glances toward the camera to ensure all three of you remain in frame, then unhooks one strap of his overalls. The other follows, denim falling to his boots before he steps free and moves around the table. You stare at his cock with theatrical amazement, though the expression becomes considerably more genuine when he wraps his hand around himself and taps the flushed head against your lips.

“Been watchin’ you prance around this farm all summer,” Remmick says, smearing precum across your mouth. “Reckon it’s time you did somethin’ useful.”

You open for him obediently, letting his cock slide over your tongue as Stack begins fucking you harder. The thick head pushes past your lips and the salty taste floods your mouth. Remmick keeps one hand beneath your jaw and uses the other to gather your hair, holding it away from your face so the camera catches every inch disappearing between your lips.

Your throat works around him as he feeds himself deeper, the stretch making your eyes water and your cunt clench hard around Stack’s cock. The coarse hair at the base of Remmick’s cock brushes your nose when he bottoms out, and his balls rest warm against your chin.

The rhythm settles quickly, Stack driving you forward onto Remmick before Remmick eases back and gives you enough air to moan. Your lipstick stains the base of his cock, spit gathering beneath your chin as he feeds himself deeper.

When you gag, Stack groans and tightens his hands around your hips, clearly feeling the way your pussy clenches around him. The wet sound of your throat taking Remmick is continuous, mixed with the wet slap of Stack’s hips against your ass.

“There she goes,” Remmick praises, pulling out until only the tip rests against your tongue, a thick strand of spit connects your lip to the head of his cock. “Pretty thing can’t remember her daddy’s rules, but she knows how to take cock.”

You try to protest around him, though Remmick pushes back into your mouth and turns it into a muffled whine. Stack leans over you, his open shirt brushing your back as he whispers against your ear, “Ain’t enough room left in that head for talkin’, sweetheart. We’re fuckin’ every useful thought right out of you.”

The camera catches your eyes rolling upward as Remmick’s cock slides down your throat and Stack pounds into your swollen cunt. Your hands scrabble uselessly across the tablecloth before finding Remmick’s thighs, nails pressing into his skin whenever both men thrust at once.

They keep you there until your mascara begins to run. Stack pulls out before he comes, leaving your cunt stretched and shining as Remmick guides you down onto the kitchen floor. Honey Belle kneels between his boots with her dress gathered at her waist, lips swollen and face streaked, looking considerably less innocent than she did when she answered the door.

Stack stretches out on his back beneath you, sliding between your spread thighs so his face is right under your dripping cunt. He grips the soft backs of your legs and pulls you down onto his mouth, exposing everything to the camera as his tongue drags slowly from your entrance to your clit, collecting the slick he fucked out of you. Remmick groans when you whimper around his cock.

The flat of Stack’s tongue is hot and rough, lapping up every drop before he pushes it inside you, fucking you with it the same way he just fucked you with his cock while your thighs frame his head.

“Got the farmer’s girl leakin’ all over the floor,” Stack mutters against you, pushing two fingers inside as his mouth closes around your clit. 

Your hips jerk against his face, though his forearms pin them down as he eats you with no concern for keeping the scene pretty. His tongue presses inside you, his nose grinding against your clit while Remmick continues using your mouth. Spit runs over your lower lip and down his shaft, mingling with the lipstick already smeared across his skin. Your clit is swollen and hypersensitive under the suction of Stack’s mouth, and every time he curls his fingers you feel another rush of wetness spill out of you and onto his chin.

The orgasm catches you hard enough to make the ribbons slip loose from your hair. Your pussy tightens around Stack’s tongue as your thighs tremble on either side of his head, and Remmick pulls out just in time for your cry to reach the microphone. The sound is raw and broken, your cunt pulsing so hard that Stack has to hold you open with both hands to keep licking through it.

Stack holds your hips against his mouth and licks through every helpless pulse, groaning as you soak his chin. Remmick crouches beside you, brushing damp hair from your forehead before guiding your hand to his cock.

“Think Honey Belle learned her lesson?” Stack asks, lifting his head with his mouth shining.

Remmick studies your unfocused eyes and the drool clinging to your chin. “Don’t look like she learned a damn thing.”

Between the two of them, they ease you forward onto your hands and knees on the kitchen floor. Stack slides underneath you on his back, positioning himself between your spread thighs so the head of his cock presses up against your soaked entrance while Remmick settles into a half-crouch behind you, one knee down, the other braced so he can thrust. 

It took several attempts during rehearsal to arrange everyone correctly.

Stack had complained about Remmick’s knee digging into his side. Remmick had accused Stack of taking up the entire floor. You had laughed so hard during the first test that neither man stayed hard, and the three of you eventually abandoned the camera to practice properly on the bedroom rug.

Remmick’s thumb presses against the smaller, slick opening above your cunt. The muscle gives gently beneath him, already softened by the careful preparation he insisted upon yesterday and repeated before filming. He had spent both mornings bending you over the edge of the bed, working oil into you with one finger, then two, then three, refusing to hurry even after you began begging him to. 

“Farmhand’s been savin’ somethin’ special for you,” Stack says, tapping his cock against your inner thigh as Remmick opens you slowly. His fingers slide in with almost no resistance now, the slick heat of the earlier oil and your own arousal making the tight ring of muscle flutter and accept him easily. “You gonna let him have it?”

You nod, leaning forward to kiss Stack as Remmick adds another finger. “Wanna make him happy.”

“That’s our good girl,” Stack praises, sliding his fingers beneath your chin. “Always so eager, even when she ain’t got the brains to know what she’s askin’ for.”

Remmick removes his fingers and positions himself behind you, his slick cock pressing carefully against your ass, and when he pushes forward the muscle yields for him the way it was trained to, familiar and overwhelming all at once. Stack enters your pussy from below first, letting your wet entrance swallow him until your body remembers his size, and Remmick follows, pushing into the prepared muscle.

The stretch makes your arms buckle.

Stack reaches up and catches you beneath the shoulders before you can collapse, drawing your chest down against his as Remmick pushes deeper. Your mouth falls open against Stack’s neck, your face tightening at the overwhelming pressure of both men filling you until there seems to be no space left between their bodies and yours. The thin wall between them is pressed so tight you can feel them moving against each other inside you.

“Christ above,” Remmick groans, his hands trembling where they grip your waist. “Can feel him through you.”

Stack’s breath leaves him in a strained laugh as he rolls his hips carefully upward. “Knew our girl could take us both.”

They begin slowly, learning the angle even though the three of you already practiced it without costumes or cameras. Stack thrusts up as Remmick presses in, their cocks sliding against each other through the thin wall inside you, keeping you stretched without granting any relief from the fullness. Every movement is a deep, continuous grind that makes your belly feel tight and full, the pressure so intense that your thighs shake and your cunt and ass both flutter helplessly around the thick shafts splitting you open.

Your head drops against Stack’s shoulder, mouth open and wet as the men work you between them.

The camera waits in front of you three, its reel turning steadily as your tits bounce and sway with every hard thrust, the soft flesh jiggling between your bodies.

“Look at the camera, honey,” Remmick urges, one hand sliding around your throat to lift your face. “Show all those perverts what happens when Daddy leaves his dumb girl home alone.”

You attempt to focus on the lens, though Stack drives up into you and your eyes cross instead. 

His mouth catches yours before another moan can escape, kissing you messily as Remmick pounds into you from behind. Their pace grows rougher, the careful rhythm giving way to something greedy once your body softens around them. The wet, filthy sound of both cocks working your holes is continuous—slick, rhythmic, the slap of Remmick’s hips against your ass and the soft, wet suction of your cunt and ass taking them both.

When Stack’s thumb finds your clit, you’re crying without noticing. 

Remmick wipes the tears from your cheek with two fingers and pushes them between your lips, letting you suck them clean as both men keep fucking you. The pressure on your clit is almost too much on top of the relentless stretch, every circle of his thumb making your walls clamp down harder around both of them.

“Too much?” Stack asks against your mouth.

You shake your head quickly, tightening your arms around his shoulders. “More.”

Remmick’s laugh breaks into a groan as he thrusts deep. “Empty-headed thing still wants more.”

They give it to you until your legs no longer hold you. Stack supports most of your weight from below, keeping your body upright so the camera captures your ruined expression, and Remmick grips your hips from behind with enough force to leave handprints beneath the yellow dress.

Your ass and cunt are both stretched wide and shiny, the lips of your pussy puffy around Stack’s shaft, the tight ring of your asshole gripping the base of Remmick’s cock so hard that the rim follows his cock outward whenever he withdraws before swallowing him again.

Words have become breathless pieces that never assemble properly. Your mouth rests open near Stack’s throat, saliva dampening his skin as both men work you toward another climax. 

Your cunt clamps around Stack as your ass tightens around Remmick, drawing broken sounds from them while your body shakes helplessly between their chests. 

The climax is deep and continuous, wave after wave of pure pressure that makes your vision white out and your voice crack into something wordless and raw.

Stack comes first, burying himself deep as warmth spills into your cunt. Remmick follows after several rough thrusts, holding you still while his release fills you from behind. The sensation of both men pulsing inside you sends another smaller climax shuddering through your already exhausted body, leaving your head tucked beneath Stack’s chin and your mouth moving around words that never become anything intelligible.

They remain joined long enough for the camera to capture the aftermath. 

Remmick withdraws carefully, watching cum begin to slide from your ass before Stack eases out from below. Your holes stay open for a moment, soft and used, the pink insides visible and glossy with their combined release before the muscle slowly begins to close. 

You sink onto the floor with your knees spread, dress bunched around your waist and their release dripping together over your swollen cunt and across Stack’s skin.

Stack reaches down and gathers some of the mess onto two fingers, bringing them toward your lips. You accept them with a vacant smile, sucking slowly until his fingers are clean.

Remmick moves behind the camera again, zooming in on your flushed face before following the trail of cum running down your thigh. “Give us one last line, darlin’,” he says, his breathing still uneven as he steadies the lens. “Tell everybody whether you enjoyed showin’ our traveler some Southern hospitality.”

You look directly into the camera, mascara smudged beneath your eyes and one ribbon hanging loose beside your cheek. Stack’s hat sits crooked on your head, placed there sometime after your second orgasm, and the smile spreading across your face is too pleased to belong to any respectable farmer’s daughter.

“His car can break down here anytime.”

Remmick’s laughter shakes the camera so badly that the final few seconds will be nearly unusable, though he insists on keeping them when the film is developed.

HONEY BELLE : FARMER’S DAUGHTER SHOWS A STRANGER SOME SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY !

First printing : sold out in three weeks.

Second printing : ordered before the first month ends.

Stack spends the next several days answering letters from men who want to know whether Honey Belle has any sisters.

Remmick keeps one copy of the final reel hidden in the converted washroom, tucked behind the developing chemicals where Stack will never think to look.

You catch him watching it alone less than a week later.

He doesn’t even pretend he was studying the camera angles.

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Mystic Falls had seen its share of vampire drama, but the Salvatore boarding house had never hosted this particular family reunion.

"They're related to us?" Damon poured bourbon with more force than necessary, eyeing the two strangers who'd materialized in the parlor like smoke and bad intentions. "Since when do we have Irish cousins?"

"Since 1847," Stefan said quietly, his journal forgotten. "Remember Father's sister? She married a shipping merchant, moved to Belfast. We thought that line died out."

"It did," said the first stranger—lean, dark-haired, with eyes that held the weight of decades.

He wore modern clothes like a costume, uncomfortable in the present. "And then it didn't. I'm Remmick. This is my brother, Paddy."

Paddy Mayne looked nothing like his sibling.

Where Remmick was all sharp edges and stillness, Paddy was broad-shouldered, a tank in human form, wearing a henley that strained against muscle earned in life and maintained through violence.

He was already raiding Damon's liquor cabinet.

"Your great-aunt's grandchildren," Paddy said, pouring two fingers of bourbon and downing it. "Turned in 1943. Cairo. Bloody mess."

"Egyptian vampires?" Elena asked from the doorway, where she stood with you—her best friend since childhood, human and stubborn and currently trying not to stare at the two new vampires who looked like they belonged on opposite sides of a war.

"British army, actually," Remmick said, his gaze finding yours and holding it.

You felt the impact like a physical blow—those eyes seeing too much, wanting too much. "Paddy was special forces. I was... following him. Trying to keep him alive."

"Failed at that," Paddy grunted, pouring another drink. "Bloke with fangs got me in an alley. Remmick tried to save me, got himself turned in the process. Poetic, innit? Two brothers, two bites, one eternal headache."

Damon looked between them, something calculating in his expression. "Let me guess. You're here because...?"

"Klaus," Remmick said simply. "Heard he's making hybrids. Making trouble. Family should stick together."

"Plus," Paddy added, finally turning—and freezing when he saw you standing beside Elena. The glass in his hand cracked. "Bloody hell."

"Language," Stefan murmured.

"That's the girl," Paddy said, not looking away from you. "The one from the dreams."

Remmick went still. Dangerously still. "You've been dreaming about her too?"

"Gentlemen," you said, stepping forward despite Elena's warning hand on your arm. "I'm standing right here. And I don't know either of you."

"Yet," both brothers said in unison, then glared at each other.

The dreams had started three weeks ago. You standing in a field. Two figures approaching from opposite horizons—one from shadow, one from sunlight that somehow burned despite your sleeping mind. They met at you, and you woke gasping, sheets tangled, heart racing with a longing you couldn't name.

Now here they were. Real. Vampire. Family to the Salvatores, which meant absolutely nothing good for your life expectancy.

"They're obsessed with you," Caroline said, applying lip gloss with such precision at the Mystic Grill. "Bonnie did a locator spell. The dreams were a summoning. Something about your bloodline. It creates a... pull."

"That's ridiculous," you said, stirring your coffee aggressively.

"That's supernatural," Bonnie corrected, sliding into the booth. "And dangerous. Remmick's old. Like, old old. He was turned in '43 but he'd been living quietly before that, moving through decades. He's... different from other vampires. More patient. Predatory in a way that makes my skin crawl."

"And Paddy?"

Bonnie hesitated. "Newer. Turned the same night, but he never stopped fighting. He's killed more vampires than I've had hot dinners. He's got this code—protect the innocent, burn the monsters. He doesn't see himself as one of us. Or one of them. He's just... Paddy."

"That doesn't tell me how to make them stop staring at me like I'm the last meal on earth."

"They don't want to eat you," Caroline said, leaning forward with gossipy delight. "They want to keep you. Two vampire brothers, one girl, epic love triangle—where have I seen this before?"

"Shut up," you and Elena said simultaneously.

You found Remmick on the roof of the boarding house, smoking a cigarette that he didn't need, staring at the stars with the patience of the immortal.

"You shouldn't be up here alone," he said without turning.

"You shouldn't smoke. It's a disgusting habit."

He laughed—low, surprised. "Old habits. I started in 1920. Thought it made me look dangerous."

"You don't need help looking dangerous."

Remmick turned then, and the moonlight carved his face into something beautiful and terrible. "I'm not here to hurt you. Either of us—Paddy and I—we came because something's coming. Something worse than Klaus. And you're in the center of it."

"Why me?"

He moved closer, close enough that you could smell rain and tobacco and something ancient. "Because you're the first thing that's made me feel human since 1943. Because when I look at you, I remember what it was like to breathe without it being a habit. To want something without planning how to take it."

His hand rose, hesitated, then brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Paddy feels it too. We always wanted the same things. Always fought for them. But this..." His jaw tightened. "I won't step aside for him this time."

"Remmick—"

"Don't say my name like that." His eyes darkened. "Not unless you mean it."

The roof access door slammed open. Paddy emerged, shirtless, carrying a wooden stake that dripped with something black and foul.

"Killed three hybrids on the property line," he announced, then saw Remmick's proximity to you. His grip on the stake whitened. "Touching my girl, brother?"

"She's not yours," Remmick said, not moving away.

"She's not yours either." Paddy stepped forward, all coiled violence and protective fury. "We agreed. She chooses. No compulsion, no manipulation. Clean fight."

"Since when do you fight clean?"

"Since the prize is worth more than winning." Paddy's gaze found yours, and the ferocity there softened into something devastating. "I don't care that you're human. I don't care that I'll outlive you by centuries unless you choose otherwise. I care that you're here, now, and I'm bloody terrified of what I'll become if I lose you to him."

"Poetry now?" Remmick's voice dripped with centuries-old sibling rivalry.

"Honesty," Paddy shot back. "Try it sometime."

You stood between them—Remmick with his shadows and his patience, Paddy with his sunlight and his chaos.

Two brothers.

Two vampires.

Two hearts that had stopped beating long ago, somehow thundering now for you.

"I need you both to back off," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "I have a history test on Monday. My grandmother's birthday dinner on Tuesday. And a werewolf bite on my ankle from last month that still itches when it rains. I don't have time for a supernatural love triangle with distant cousins of my best friend's vampire boyfriends."

"History," Remmick murmured. "I lived through most of it."

"I blew up most of it," Paddy added helpfully.

"Not helping!" You pointed at each of them in turn. "You—stop lurking outside my window like a creeper. And you—stop leaving dead hybrid bodies on my porch like gifts. I don't care if you're both obsessed with me because of some bloodline prophecy or cosmic joke. I'm not a prize. I'm not a destiny. I'm a person who wants to graduate high school without becoming a vampire snack."

"You'd never be a snack," Paddy said, offended.

"You'd be a queen," Remmick agreed.

"OUT!" You pointed toward the door. "Both of you! Go... wrestle or brood or whatever vampire brothers do!"

They looked at each other. Something passed between them—old battles, older love, and the new war you represented.

"She's magnificent," Paddy said.

"She's everything," Remmick agreed.

And then, to your absolute horror, they both smiled—sharp, identical, family smiles—and vanished into the night, leaving you alone with the certainty that this was far from over.

Damon found you downstairs, pouring whiskey you didn't drink into a glass you didn't need.

"You, Damon," you said without turning. "Why are they like that?"

"Which part? The obsessive devotion or the homicidal sibling rivalry?"

"Both."

Damon leaned against the counter, surprisingly sympathetic. "Stefan and I spent a century and a half trying to kill each other over Katherine. Then Elena." He shrugged. "Love makes us stupid. Immortality makes it worse—you've got forever to regret your choices, so every choice has to be perfect. Remmick's been waiting for something real since 1920. Paddy's been fighting for something to believe in since North Africa."

"And I'm supposed to be what? The solution to their existential crises?"

"You're supposed to be you." Damon poured himself a drink. "Just... maybe invest in vervain perfume. And decide soon. Because those two? They're not patient like Stefan. They're not reasonable like me." He grinned at your look. "Okay, they're not reasonable. But they're serious. And when vampire brothers get serious about the same girl, things get biblical."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Cain and Abel had nothing on what those two are capable of." He raised his glass. "Welcome to the family."

You found them at the cemetery—fitting, you thought. Remmick sat on a headstone, looking like he belonged among the dead. Paddy paced like a caged wolf, destroying a stress ball by squeezing it to dust.

"I've made a decision," you announced.

They both went still.

"I'm not choosing either of you," you said, and watched their faces fall. "Not because I don't feel... whatever this is. The pull. The dreams. But because I'm not a passive prize in your war. If you want me, you both have to earn me. Separately. No fighting, no manipulation, no vampire tricks."

"And if we can't agree?" Remmick asked quietly.

"Then you both lose." You stepped between them, close enough to touch, far enough to be fair. "Show me who you are. Not who you were in 1943. Not who you are when you're fighting each other. Show me you."

Paddy was the first to move. He took your hand, pressed a kiss to your knuckles that burned with life despite his cold skin. "I've stormed bunkers with less courage than it takes to stand here," he murmured. "But for you? I'll learn patience."

Remmick appeared at your other side, not teleporting—just moving with that eerie grace. He touched your face with reverence, like you were a prayer he'd forgotten how to speak. "Forever is a long time to wait," he said. "But I've waited for worse things."

"One condition," you said, looking between them. "No more dead hybrids on my porch. Bonnie nearly fainted."

"Deal," they said together, then glared at each other for saying it together.

You laughed, and for a moment, the cemetery felt less like a graveyard and more like a beginning.

Somewhere in the shadows, Damon watched with Stefan, shaking his head. "Salvatore men and their terrible taste in women."

"Speak for yourself," Stefan said, smiling slightly. "I think she's exactly what those two need."

"Chaos?"

"Purpose." Stefan vanished into the night. "Same thing, really."

A/N: This literally came to me in a dream. I was rewatching TVD the other night and went, "Remmick would absolutely be a match for Klaus." Then I thought... wait, Paddy too. Come on, that man is basically a war machine.

I also decided to keep the original cast because it just makes more sense, and honestly... who doesn't love the Salvatore brothers? I genuinely think Damon and Remmick would become best friends—they'd be absolute menaces together.