This man makes me wanna shake him like a chew toy so bad, chat
🌙 I highly doubt that Drifter is the type to establish something, but it's made very known to you that you're his. Nothing is said, yet you both understand. That's how it rolls with the vampire and it's one of the first things you learn about him.
🌙 You also know that it takes a certain type of crazy to be with him. He a murderous, homeless vampires with barely any moral code to his name. And yet, he somehow decided to spare you and talk you up and here he is; Being as romantic as someone like him can be.
🌙 He has an interesting way of complimenting you. The best way you could describe it is like how an out of time and touch vampire tries modern romance. It's pretty amusing seeing and hearing Drifter speak to you like others with their partners. The Cajun vampire before gives up often, going back to his odd ways of complimenting you the way any crazed vampire would.
🌙 He's homeless and hasn't had a home since the colonies were still a thing. He's a wanderer, never in the same place for more than a few days so he doesn't bring too much attention towards himself. That being said, he finds a good deal of comfort in your home. It actually feels nice to sleep in an actual bed for once - granted, you make him shower first before he lays down.
🌙 He's not a fan of strong scents, often saying that the modern world smells a whole lot worse than the times of old with the perfumes and scented lotions and toxic factories. He craves your natural scent, loving the smell of you so much he'll lose himself to your sheets when you aren't home. You've learned to not wear any scents when he comes around.
🌙 He often leaves for a couple of weeks at a time here and there. You were worried at first, but it's yet another quirk that Drifter has. When he comes back, it's always the same man but with different clothes and a new set of stories- And some gifts for you, their origins something you don't want to know about.
🌙 Speaking of returning, he fucking sucks at announcing himself when he is back inside of your apartment. You can't count how many times you walk through your home only to jump and scream at a large and dark figure in the shadows of your bedroom. He gets a kick out of it though.
🌙 Because of his vampiric nature, any "dates" have to be after the sun sets. They often involve long walks in the night whether they're in parks or through the woods where there's barely any people around. The less people around, the better.
🌙 Drifter actually asks to feed from you which shocked you the first time. You'd expected him to just take, but you were shocked when he purred the question in your ear while kissing at your neck. He actually makes you comfortable when he feeds; Laying you down, propping your neck and head up on some pillows, biting into you slowly so it hurts less.
🌙 You gave him a pleasant shock when he came back one time to see your whole apartment had been refitted with blackout curtains, especially the bedroom. He was actually a little touched that you would go through the trouble for him so he wouldn't have to sleep in a closet or your bathtub to avoid the sun.
🌙 He's careful with his claws around you, being sure not to dig his black nails too deep. He's not a fan of bringing you any harm if he can't help it. You pretend like you don't notice it, but you're touched by his actions.
🌙 When you end up cutting yourself by accident or knicking your finger with a knife while cooking, Drifter likes to lick the blood from the wound. He says he'd hate to let such sweet tasting blood go to waste, but the reality is that he's stopping the bleeding with his saliva. You don't understand the whole vampire thing, but you know that's what he's doing.
🌙 Horrible with the whole jealousy thing, especially if it's around another vampire. Drifter doesn't do the whole lay low thing like all of the other vampires do, obviously, or he wouldn't have those massive talons on his hands amongst other things. Because he doesn't hide it, the poor soul who was just harassing you for a hookup is now about to wet themselves at the sight of him all tall and broad and evil-looking.
🌙 He found himself stunned when he returned at another occassion to see you had patched one of his favorite jackets he had left behind from where it was torn at the shoulders. Such a small gesture for a monster like him made him feel strangely human once again.
🌙 He doesn't really talk about his life before he was turned, often saying it was a depressing time for him. He prefers not to bring up times when he was human, often getting cold and harsh when the topic is brought up.
🌙 He may act like he's not listening or he doesn't care, but Drifter actually remembers all of the little details about you. He's the type to seem like he doesn't care, but in reality, he really does. A lot. And you're one of the few humans he actually doesn't feel the need to snuff out.
🌙 It's best if you don't have lit candles in your apartment. You've come to figure out that he has a horrible fear of fires, the reason you still don't know about. He won't enter unless you put every single flame out. He's very suspicious about wax and oil warmers, not understanding how they actually work.
🌙 Kissing Drifter is something of its own category. He kisses like it's the last time he'll see you, and the horrifying part is that you never know if that's true. He kisses like he's starving, like if he lets go then you'll fade from existence, like you're suddenly the only thing in his world that's right. The red glow in his eyes often dims to the point where you can almost see his natural eyes, but you can never make out the color.
🌙 He's a sucker for having his back scratched. He won't ever admit it, his "pride" too loud, but he's not very subtle when he wants you to scratch his back. Always shirtless, always with his back to you, and when you playfully ignore him he lets out a deep grunt to get your attention.
🌙 Speaking of Drifter being shirtless, he totally has a dad bod. He's tall and lumbering and a force to be reckoned with, all with bad posture like he fell off a five story building and a gut. You would think he would be warm, but he's not unless he's fed well. When he is, he's honestly the best thing to cuddle up to: Soft yet firm and very warm.
🌙 You've been with him long enough to know that something in him changed. He's not the same vicious monster you met one night, but he's now something else entirely. He's still not a good man, that's for sure, but you seemed to have brought something out of him that hasn't been seen in centuries.
🌙 If you two have been together for awhile, Drifter may offer to turn you. He would have brought it up awhile ago, jokingly asking you if you'd wanna be one. If you said no, he won't offer. If you said something else, he'll remember. If you do accept his offer, he'll make the process a lot easier and a lot more gentle than he did when it happened to him almost 400 years ago.
SYNOPSIS : what the drifter would gift you for valentine’s day, and how he’d spend the special day with you!
PAIRING : the drifter (deadlock) x gn!reader.
TAGS : 500+ words, fluff, inexperienced!drifter.
why do ghouls fall in love m.list!
ཐི♡ཋྀ Drifter has no idea how it happened. He was known as the cruel and bloodthirsty Drifter, who tore down and broke all vampiric traditions and stereotypes. He didn’t care for status, riches, eternal youth, romance, or love. He was above those things. That’s what he told himself, that’s what he believed. But lately, it feels like his heart and mind have been disobeying him. His heart left his ribcage and found home on his sleeve.
The Drifter somehow found himself fancying you. It kind of scared him, the feelings he harbored for you as they grew more and more each day. These feelings made him feel small, vulnerable, and weak.
He hasn’t felt like this in centuries.
After meeting you, getting to know you, the way he felt about his feelings started to change. You’re comforting, nostalgic, and you feel like home. The Drifter has always lived his life selfishly, but if he was given one last selfish act, it would be to stay by your side.
Valentine’s Day was fast approaching, and the Drifter knew he needed to get you something special.
But how do you get the right gift for your special someone when you haven’t given a gift to anyone in ages? These aren’t questions or thoughts that typically run through the Drifter’s mind.
But as the Drifter looks into the glass window of a jewelry shop, the perfect gift seems to have arisen.
You’ve left your mark on Drifter’s heart, as if you owned it, and he was going to make sure he’s left a permanent one on your own.
When Valentine’s Day finally arrived, the Drifter was quick to show you the matching necklaces he had gotten for both of you. Don’t ask him how he got them.
Or do! When figuring out what to get you, like a giddy puppy, he so badly wanted to tell you what he had planned to get you days in advance. It’s not his fault; every time he spent time with you, it was like the butterflies swirling in his stomach wanted to creep up his throat, daring him to let slip the special gift idea he had for you.
He swears you’re killing him slowly.
When you choose to walk next to him, and as closely as possible. The shine of your necklace is never able to outmatch the beautiful glimmer of your eyes as the moonlight reflects off them.
The Drifter is completely transparent with you; this isn’t something he’s used to doing. There’s no one else in this world he’d go the extra mile for. The night reflects that as you both take a relaxing stroll together, the Drifter’s arms wrapped around your figure, holding you close, protecting you as you converse back and forth.
His hold on you is firm, and to most it may be suffocating, overwhelming. But to you, it’s exactly what you need.
You’re the person that haunts him when he closes his eyes, and he swears that even in the dark, he still sees your outline, your lovely shape.
Warnings: Talk of murder, and unhealthy relationship dynamics, nsfw towards the end
Okay so first things first, for any sort of relationship that goes beyond just having met him and not happening to die for one reason or another; if it is in anyway going to work you have be some kind of level of evil, or at the very least neutral or uncaring about his homicidal tendencies. This is not a man you can fix, he doesn’t want to be ‘fixed’, he is as he is and that’s all there is too it.
Now not that I don’t think he wouldn’t mess around with someone whose good or otherwise holds a moral high ground against him, but it would not be healthy in the slightest. It would be the single most catastrophic relationship ever that is probably built on a lot of pent up sexual frustration and hatred for the other person with each side trying to convince the other of their ‘way’ being right. Drifter is absolutely trying to break their partner mentally and emotionally so they cave and maybe will even intentionally setup situations where either option is horrible, and involves killing someone but a choice still has to be made. No matter which choice is made, he will remind his partner constantly about it, and how it is their fault, they killed, they went against their moral conduct and… doesn’t that just feel so nice? To let go for once? Didn’t it feel nice?
Worst partner ever in this scenario -49209029403/10
On the other hand if you’re more neutral in regards to his nature, it can work well, you see each other every once in awhile, you don’t necessarily encourage any bad behavior in one another. Although Drifter does try to convince you every once awhile, but he’s not as pressed about it, he understands it’s ‘not your thing’, so long as you don’t get on his case for what he does he doesn’t try to get you involved. Try being the keyword, he still tracks in blood at where ever it is you’re meeting, and he will want to talk to you about an interesting kill or fight he had while he’s been traveling and he will want you to listen to every last detail. This is actually probably the healthiest version of relationship he can get close to having. (DoorDrift ship I feel works best for this man so well, because while Doorman is more neutral on killing in his current day to day, he doesn’t care that his partner still does it, so long as they stay safe.)
In the middle ground of scenarios where you both have similar murderous intent, it’s a situation where anyone on the outside looking in sees it as a horrible horrible relationship in such a way that you are both perfect for each other and literally no one else, because getting anyone or anything else involved would be a crime against humanity. You’re both terrible people, but at least you’re terrible together and not with some other poor fool. (as with scenario A where Drifter is someone whose a good person) You do however both encourage some really bad traits in one another. Drifter actively endorses jealousy and possessiveness, but it’s not a one way street, it goes both ways.
He wants his partner to get angry and upset that he was speaking a little too sweetly to that bartender, he wants to see you drag them behind the alley and threaten, maim, or even kill them, even better if you make sure he’s present to watch or instead you take out your frustrations with him directly and tell him off for doing that. He loves it. It’s like proof to him that you are fighting for your claim on him. There’s something animalistic about it that ignites in him when he sees you’ve got a jealousy streak and you’re dragging that person at the bar who was flirting with him into a dumpster fire to watch them burn alive.
It’s romantic.
Of course you’re free to do the same to him as well, he’s more than willing and ready to prove that he will fight for his claim as your partner too. He’s not even really mad about it, he’s more eager than anything else when some person on the street came up to you and started chatting you up, and you gave them a playful smile when they asked for your number. You’ll find the next day the call you get from the number only plays the sound of labored pained and muffled breathing before the call cuts out. Drifter greets you the next day and will make some off-hand comment about apologizing for the call being cut short.
The actual day to day with him in any of these scenarios is dependent on if you are traveling with him or not. As his name implies he doesn’t stay in one place for long, so either you move with him or you stay where you are and he’ll stop by once every few months, sometimes more, sometimes less, depends on his mood. Otherwise be ready to answer a lot of unknown numbers from your phone where he’ll give you general updates about what he’s up to, ask about you and what not. If he’s gone for a particularly long while when he comes back he’ll stick around longer than usual to makeup for lost time. Take note this is another aspect of himself he’s unwilling to change, he just doesn’t like to settle anywhere so don’t expect him to, either follow him around or don’t those are your options.
If you are traveling with him expect a lot of sleeping around in uncomfortable places, he is a literal murder hobo and will just sleep on the streets if that’s where he ends up for the night. Of course though if you’re offering to buy cheap motels and what not he doesn’t mind mooching off you and getting to stay in a bed for the day.
He smells. Point blank, he often goes long stretches without showering, so hope that it rains in the night, otherwise you will have to buy a place to stay at for the night to convince him to shower. Or if he’s visiting you after being out for a few months he can use your bathroom. It’s not that he’s unwilling necessarily, he’s just more so used to it roughing it, and he’d rather save his own bit of pocket money he steals from his victims on drinks at some seedy bar.
He doesn’t care what you really are, human, Ixian, ghost, vampire, or whatever else, but if you are on the more mortal side of things where your lifespan is pretty short, or has a very finite end in comparison to himself, he may offer to turn you. He only ever asks once or twice and then never brings it up again. Kind of just comes to realize you intend on being here for a good time, not a long time, and it does upset him a little but he gets over it quickly. He does respect whatever decision you make, and whenever you inevitable die he will be upset. Not that anyone could really tell, he’ll still act the same more or less the same. But there’s moments where something someone says reminds him of you, or he sees something in passing that you liked and he gets all quiet. I think if you’ve lived long enough to get into your old age (like around 80-90+ years where you could go any one of these days now.), he may even offer to have the pleasure of killing you himself. He takes it as a great honor and act of love if you do let him.
Gifts from him are a little random at first, small weird trinkets he gives you that just reminded him of you. Once he gets to know you better they become more targeted towards your interests just don’t question him on where he got them, or do if you want to hear about who he murdered because they had that nice bag of that character you liked on them. If you’re a vampire or other similar creature where you require meat or blood to sustain yourself he may also ‘bring home dinner’ for you.
Date nights vary if you travel with him or not, if you are with him, then the only place he really offers is a shady bar, it’s the one place he isn’t getting dress coded at too harshly and he can afford. Otherwise if you want to go to like some rundown diner late at night, you can. However he doesn’t really see the point if you both can’t/don’t eat regular food, but sure if you want for a night you two can pretend like you’re just a normal couple out on an impromptu evening date. If you’re murderous like him, he may try to find something more personal and ‘fun’ for you both to do together. He’ll find some poor soul to torture, or find an isolated group of people to hunt down, you just leave the details all to him.
If you don’t travel with him, then he’s down for whatever you want to do at your home. Although he does sort of see your place as where he really relaxes for once, so honestly he doesn’t want to really go out when he’s visiting you. He will if you ask, but he’ll grumble about it and prefer you both sit at home and be lazy together.
NSFW
He’s shameless horny with you, and he’s a very physical touch type of person. He likes to always have an arm draped around you, a hand playing with your hair, or if you have earrings, piercings, or other jewelry like a necklace he loves to mess and twirl them with his claws. It will quickly devolve into his hand starting to travel under your shirt or into your pants so he can grab at your thighs. He wants to place his head in the crook of your neck so he can inhale your scent and give you a few ‘love bites’(These are not gentle, he will break skin and take a little sip here and there.) Which is another thing he has a scent kink, his nose is really sensitive to smells and if you haven’t seen each other in awhile the first thing he does is bring you in for a hug so he can get a good whiff of your scent. Likes to rub himself up against you as well to ‘mark you’ with his scent too. Be careful (Or don’t) but he this can and will devolve into dry humping. He will raid your dirty laundry for underwear that smells of you and you will never see it again. (He gets too excited and rips it up.)
In bed I feel he mostly actually falls as being a switch rather than being purely dominant, however it takes awhile before he’d be willing to bottom for you. It’s not even really a thing about trust, it’s more so about proving you are cut out to top for him. Show him you’re strong enough to hurt him, make him whine and beg for you, grab his hair and tell him how you want things to go down and then you can top him. Otherwise you are relegated to bottom duty, and pray you have the fortitude to withstand being his bottom. Every sexual encounter will leave you bruised, aching, bitten and drained. However if there is one singular morally correct thing that Drifter ascribes to is that he’s big on consent. It’s not fun for him if his partner doesn’t enthusiastically enjoy what he’s doing. (I think he’d be fine with consensual non-consent, but he prefers if you are actively enjoying whatever pain he’s inflicting on you.) In either scenario he doesn’t really care, but he has a bit more pride for you if you manage to top him, or as a bottom you can take a lot of physical pain to the extent that he doesn’t have to ‘hold himself back’.
He cannot unfortunately finger you unless you actively want him to tear your insides out with his claws, which he isn’t entirely against if you really wanted that, but I’m assuming most would not of course. However he does prefer to give head rather than receive it, not that he doesn’t mind when you offer, he just prefers when he has you pried open for him and you’re squirming around him, or you have your hands buried in his hair and you’re face fucking him. He just likes that he gets to be up and close and personal to you, and most importantly the smell of your sex is the strongest there and nothing else gets him off quite as well as that.
If you are a period haver, as we all know vampires and periods are the holy grail of fan-fiction smut literature; he is all over you during your time of month. Who needs pads when you have him to eat you out? He’s very through with these things, and honestly if you’ve found him in a good mood and he isn’t too far from your location if you are going long distance with him, you might be able to convince him to come back home early just so he can have you during your period.
For him the messier the better though, he understands if you want to put down a towel so your sheets aren’t ruined, but come on… just this once? Let him ruin your bed, he wants your blood to stain and mark what you two have done together. You can wash out it later right? C’mon please?
(CW: He breaks into your house? Other than that, him being an ass but still fluff)
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The trial was exhausting, to say the least.
The constant shift of balance in the lanes made you wonder if it would ever end, but thankfully your team defeated the other team's patron. Your team wanted to go out to get drinks to celebrate, but you politely declined. All you wanted right now was to collapse into bed and let sleep take you away. As you dragged yourself back into the hideout and up the stairs to your room, you paused as your hand held onto the door knob. You could hear something…someone? Pressing your ear to the door, you could hear what sounded like snoring. You slowly opened the door to find a massive shape covering the entirety of your bed, which would have terrified you, if not for the small beam of moonlight that revealed who this intruder was.
“Damn it, Drifter…”
You rubbed your eyes tiredly as you sighed. The Drifter had been a constant pain in your side since you arrived in New York. No matter what side you were on during the ritual, he always seemed to make it his mission to irritate you. And now, he was passed out in your bed. You close the window he had opened to let himself in, before moving to his side. His hat was tilted down over his face, with his blood stained hands behind his head. Even sleeping, he looked smug.
“Drifter, come on.” You murmured tapping his shoulder. But there was no reaction.
“Come on, man. You gotta get up-“ you shook his shoulder a bit more. Nothing.
Irritation was clouding over your drowsiness. You put both hands onto his shoulder and shook more aggressively.
“Drifter-!” You hissed out, trying not to wake any others in the hide out.
Suddenly, he shifted, stretching out his arms and nearly scratching your face with his claws before you backed away. He yawned, revealing his sharp fangs in the dimly lit room, before he turned over to resume his rest. You sighed, this wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Reluctantly, you took a spare blanket hanging off one of your chairs as you trudged back down the stairs.
The city lights twinkled through the massive window overlooking New York, as you made your way over to the couch by the fireplace. The warmth from it and its occasional crackle or snap was somewhat comforting, you thought to yourself. You hoped you could get somewhat of a decent sleep without messing up your back, as you pulled the blanket over top of you and closed your eyes. Slowly, you began to relax, and you could feel yourself drifting away…
But that peace only lasted for about half an hour.
You’re not quite sure what awoke you, the slight swaying sensation, or the smell of dried blood. But as you opened your eyes, you found yourself being carried back upstairs by the vampire. You all but jolted up, preparing to scramble out of his hold, but he just held you closer in response.
“Easy there~” he drawled, his voice rumbling through his chest and against your cheek. “I’d been waitin’ for you all night and where do I find you? Lookin’ all pitiful on the couch.”
He chuckled, making your face flush.
“Just put me down, alright?” You murmured back in reply, your voice still thick with exhaustion. “I’m too tired to deal with your shit right now.”
He grinned as he shook his head, amused.
“You really think I’m gonna let you go now? Nah, darlin’ you’re all mine tonight.”
You could barely get another protest in before he kicked your bedroom door open, as he unceremoniously laid back down on your bed with a satisfied sigh. You, still held against his chest like an iron maiden, tried to squirm your way out with no luck.
“You best get comfortable-” He said, leaning close to your ear so his beard brushed against the side of your face. “We gonna be here for a looong time~”
He chuckled again to himself, ruffling your hair with a massive hand, before continuing to keep you in a locked embrace. Despite your initial irritation, you began to feel exhaustion start to creep in once more, as the gentle rise and fall of Drifter’s breathing lulled you towards sleep. It was strange, seeing him like this. You were used to his bloodlust, the way he pestered you for hours on end. And even with this annoyance, there was almost…affection behind it? You yawned quietly, unconsciously curling up a bit closer as your eyes became half lidded, before closing altogether completely.
{ a/n }: tell me what you think this is my first time writing after like probably 2 years also woahh part 2 ?
A gasp thrusts you from your sleep as you feel your heart physically jump from your chest, the force of it alone enough to lurch your body upwards like a man possessed. The sweat that beads on your skin feels ice cold with the fan’s gentle whirr, a strange contrast to the roaring furnace you feel just beneath your skin. It’s hot- too hot -and if you could be certain your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you, it almost looked like steam was rising off your skin. You can’t discern any details aside from what little moonlight peaks through your closed blinds and projects onto the floor in razor thin slits. They shift and move with the fan’s breeze, lines passing just briefly over clammy palms. It’s dark. Dark and late, according to the bell clock on the nightstand. A weary, shaky hand runs down your face, but when you fail to pay attention and hit your inner thigh you jump at the yelp that follows suit. Sensitive, an internal voice chides, drawing a sharp inhale from you.
Christ… this was the third time this week.
It’s impossible to be able to tell exactly when these… nightmares(?) actually started. It could’ve been maybe two weeks ago, when one startled you so bad it made you bump your head on the shelf above the bed in a panic. Wait, no, earlier than that, because you had gotten one the night before you had to go pull a double like a month ago… or, maybe before that? You wouldn’t be able to say, and even if you could anytime you tried to think about it too long you could feel whatever details you did have vanishing like trying to make shapes from fading smoke. Few details stayed consistent, but the ones that did were more like scattered sensations without a the full spectrum. Just- backtrack. It’s still fresh, maybe you can pull something from it…
Something viscous and warm coats you in thick layers, running down your shoulders, your hair. Running into your eyes and blurring your vision a deep red. There’s a rough thrum in your chest that almost rattles the inside of your ribcage when it beats, but you aren’t scared. No, there’s a searing acid that burns through your muscles like you’ve stretched after a good workout, a looseness in your joints and vibration in your fingertips that makes your claws- claws? -tap a bit against the hard- wet ground. Satisfaction runs through your veins, down the top of your head to your feet. There’s no way you’re clothed- you know you wouldn’t want to be. Anything to keep you from feeling this- all of this -would be torture. You can’t deny yourself the satisfaction, can’t resist the urge to lay in it and stretch as the sharp tang of metal hits your tongue.
It’s fucking revolting. If you stopped lapping you think you’d die. Your legs feel weak enough drinking here in the ground, the frenzy driving the heat further down into your middle. It settled somewhere deep in your hips, festering. In your indulgence you fail to notice whatever appears as if it’s been there beside you the whole time. You don’t see it, barely hear it- but you feel rough palms press against your lower back as if dragging the arch out of you. It rewards you with a purr. Hungry- like you. It growls as it notices your body reacting to it’s own, and before you can turn it grabs you faster than light to pin you down. You’re stuck beneath it, chest grinding into the floor and sweet water that surrounds you, letting whatever it is grind it’s prominent interest against you. It shows no haste to intrude, hips lazily grinding into you and barely paying mind to the desperation you rock back with. It’s messy and uncoordinated, impatience only multiplying with proximity rather than aiding it. You can vaguely recall the feeling of what could’ve been a large cat’s tongue lathe from your collarbone to your jugular, a low, satisfied sound rumbling in it’s chest at the motion. It’s desperate too, but it’s almost like whatever is there- both around and above you -hones that urge. It’s patient in it’s fervor, breath shaky and ragged as you feel something on your inner thigh… is that… is that stubble…?
-thump-
Before you can panic, a soft murrph from your cat catches you off guard enough to wait. He jumps up onto the lumped sheets with the elegance and grace of a small prince, nuzzling up to your side as soon as he knows you’re awake. He seems almost pleased with himself to have given you a start, but you find yourself running a clammed hand appreciatively over his little head anyway. It helps ease you a bit, the thrumming in your chest having slowed down nearly to it’s baseline by the time you pay attention to it again. At this rate you’re almost positive that you need to see a doctor. But what the hell would that even do? Waste money for them to give you melatonin that doesn’t work? You’d already tried. Maybe it was the fear, so you had started double checking your doors and windows. You barely opened either as of late, having spent less and less time speaking to people and more time just taking care of the necessities like your job or groceries.
It honestly seems the only thing to try is the thing you’ve been avoiding; trying to get out. It’s sort of impossible to not consider that your paranoia is just caused by the fact that you haven’t gotten out in a while. You know how you can get when you’re isolated, having spent many near endless nights scrolling through blogs, art pages, whatever you could to have a conduit for your thoughts. It wasn’t healthy, but it was the beginning of a long cycle you’d have to learn to handle better as you’ve gotten to this point. You have to admit not having seen your friends for weeks now was taking a toll on you. Whatever anxieties you’d have would be easily fixed with a blunt and a few shots in your system. An assumption you’re mostly correct about, even though you can’t quite turn off your vigilance once you all get there later that week. It’s sufficiently packed, but not to an extent you’d be horrifically uncomfortable with. Just enough for you to keep an eye on. Whatever’s playing from the jukebox has got everyone singing despite no performer being on stage tonight, and there are a few touches to your shoulders as you pass in welcome. It feels nice to be back here, where sketchy corners and dark shadows don’t feel so foreboding with wallflowers, neon lights, and mild exhibitionists filling them.
You’re a sufficient amount of drinks in when you notice your friends off across the room talking animatedly to someone you don’t recognize from your place at the bar. It's worn and familiar, something you'd go so far as to call cozy. It's a comfort that renders you surprise when you fail to notice the low voice that pulls you from your thoughts before it speaks. “You’ve been sat right here all night. Must be feelin’ down.”
The voice that interrupts your thoughts makes hairs stand up on the back of your neck, your back almost instinctively straightening it self out like a spooked cat. It’s low and gravely, thick with an accent that rolls off the tongue like butter. You don’t lift your head from where you’re staring at your reflection in the amber liquor. “You watching me?”, you ask, and there’s a strange pause before you hear a hearty laugh from him. You glance over a bit, blurry eyes falling on what looks to be glove-clad hands. A biker? His nails are black and slightly pointed, and you swear if you squint it almost looks like he has some slight red tint to his skin like a blush. This red almost looks deeper though- richer. It’s hard to tell with his sleeves down, though. Something in the back of your head nags to try and get that jacket off. You ignore it. “Not unless you like the attention. Watchin’s a strong word anyway, hard not to notice you.”, he says, and it’s when you finally look up do you find yourself slightly delayed in your response.
He peers down at you from beneath a worn hat, messy locs of hair falling over his eyes and curling around pointed ears.
His stature is strong, slightly slumped but visibly large enough that you can tell he’s probably muscular under that old jacket and stained shirt he’s got on. He looks rough, probably spends most of his time on the street. Not much unlike you, or your friends, really, but it’s obvious whatever this guy gets up to isn’t something you’d wanna know about for plausible deniability. Everything about him feels like an alarm bell with a pleasant tune, the scent of something heavy and smoky in the air around him that almost sobers you up with the strength. Your wandering eyes earn a sharp-toothed grin and a slight narrow of his eyes, teeth glinting a bit in the dim hanging light above. Something in your chest clenches when he shifts like a scared animal. And, despite the endless distractions around you both, eye contact doesn’t cease with him, trained on you and your expressions as if the rest of the bar doesn’t even exist.
It makes you feel strangely exposed despite having a jacket on your shoulders, the vulnerability it puts you in apparently not lost on him as he rests his elbow on the counter and leans his head into his fist. “You alright, cher? You look red.”
Smut
Blood Kink
Daddy Kink
Pet Play
Eating people
Manhandling
Accidental Drug Use (Aphrodisiacs)
Dubious Consent
You've been traveling with Drifter for awhile, neither of you think to check the "champagne bottle" the couple you're both eating had before you hunted them down until it's already a little too late.
You’re a lot of things, or at least you think if people knew of you they’d call you a lot of different things. A monster, a leech, a parasite, or even a coward, and they’d be right. You know who you are even if many people don’t even know of your existence. Vampires these days are rather out and about flaunting both status and social rankings above one another, but the whole stick with that is that well, you were never very good at that. Not that you really ever tried to fit in, but you turning into a vampire was more or less a mistake on the original vampire that attempted to kill and eat you. She died in endeavor, you lived, or you guess un-lived? You don’t know enough magic or anatomy to know how undead on spectrum you lie. Leaving you with no master and no real understanding on how everything works, having to mostly just tough it out and figure it on your own.
Which is fine, if it wasn’t for the fact that being a vampire and getting blood is either very expensive to get morally or puts you on a radar if you kill too many people. Being immortal on top of that, means unless you’re killed that list doesn’t quite end and paints a pretty big target on you. So for a long time you played it pretty safe, half-starving yourself some nights and finding drunk vagrants, taking little sips here and there. Just barely living, sometimes if you got really lucky you’d find somebody who was about to die anyway and get a real meal. Car wrecks on dark and unused roads, murder victims in isolated places and sometimes when you got really desperate you’d have to hunt animals, but they’re more trouble than they’re worth.
Well you did do all of that until you found your ‘big break’, which was stumbling across another vampire funnily enough. The smell of blood had lead you to the back alley of some bar, the scene before was a feast for your starved stomach. Blood coated and pooled out on the cement and the wet sounds of ripping and teeth gnashing filled the night air. Three bodies lay, limbs scattered around the ground, as a figure in the darkness is hunched over one of the corpses, chewing and swallowing thickly down gulps of meat.
You watched saliva pooling in your mouth, sticking close by to the shadows of a dumpster while the figure ate, envious of the meal. However long before you would have been finished he suddenly stands, wipes his mouth and walks off into the night. Starting to whistle the tune of a child’s lullaby as he goes.
You feasted that night, ate up what he left behind, even licked concrete here and there to lap up some of the pools of blood, the first night in long while that you’d felt full. Ever since then you’ve been tailing the other vampire. After all, if the kills are attributed to him you can fly safer under the radar eating table scraps.
At first you didn’t really know who he was but, that quickly changed when you’d watched as some poor saps tried to put him down. Drifter is what they called him, well they call him a lot of other things, but Drifter seems to be name he goes by. And you remember pretty vaguely hearing of the name when you were human, some boogieman legend, but you didn’t think it was actually real. Surely someone would have caught such a notorious serial killer after all, but you’ve been proven wrong.
He put them down as easily as they boosted about how they were going to kill him, ate his fill and left like it all never happened.
That’s the one thing, true to his namesake he doesn’t stay anywhere for too long. It’s given you a scare a few times when you’ve woken up a little too late from a nap and not immediately known where is he. At most a week he stays in an area and then he’s traveling again, sometimes takes cargo trains and sleeps in hay and you follow just a cart behind tracking him through scent. The only places you don’t trail him through are bars he occasionally stops at to have a drink or any kind of establishments. Harder to hide in those settings and given how dangerous he is and what you’ve seen him do, you don’t even want him to know your face.
Tonight’s a night like any other, nice and dark, a bit of moonlight just to highlight things in a pretty pale blue color. Unlike the usual you’re in a more remote area, forested, big tall pine trees simple dirt paths and gravel roads here and there. It’s home to a one log cabin, where inside you can hear the screams and cries of woman as they attempt to call for help and fight for their lives. The home emits a soft yellow glow from the windows that shadows run past here and there before they are splattered to the ground.
You’re currently shape shifted into a wolf, easier to hide in the foliage and not stick out like a sore thumb following the other vampire like this. You lick your chops in anticipation as slowly screams die down, and the lights from inside stop flickering.
That is until one woman comes bursting out from the front door, covered in blood, one arm missing as she runs into the wilderness blindly. You always have to abate your instincts to chase as you wait in the bushes. You’ll get your meal later.
Instead you watch as the darkened silhouette of Drifter comes to the front entrance staring out where she ran off to, before your ears flick and you hear him chuckle and returning inside, leaving the door wide open. It’s not often he let’s someone go, but it’s never really happened where you were in a position to actually hunt something yourself.
While you don’t mind the scraps, the food’s typically gone cold by the time you get to eat and having something a little warmer for once is far more appetizing than what you typically get. So knowing you have some time till Drifter’s done inside eating, you turn tail and head off in the direction the woman ran. Catching the scent of blood and perfume in the air that drives your paws to move you forward, although you find she hasn’t made it that far.
Panting lowly you find her leaned up against a tree, holding what’s left of her arm as she cries. Your deliberately step on a twig to catch her attention and she looks up to meet your gaze. Her lower lip trembling as you slowly approach her.
“Nice, nice doggy right?” She tries, scooting a little closer to the trunk of the tree and tucking her legs in. You approach cautiously, like she’s a deer who might spook if you’re too fast. You don’t need her screaming and alerting Drifter that he’s not the only predator in these woods. When she holds up her one shaky hand in a small fist for you to sniff her scent you do just that. Allowing her to pet the underside of your jaw and right behind your ear. It feels nice, just not nice enough to stop you from what you set out to do. Allowing you to get close enough you lick her face tasting the dried blood, tears and sweat on her skin. Her warm skin.
In one swift motion you lunge, teeth clamping down on her throat to muffle her cries as her hand coming up to beat on your body. Legs kicking as she flails, but all her movement just encourages you to bite down harder until slowly her legs get weaker. Her hand slaps weakly against your side and she stops struggling altogether.
You finally place your paws on her side for leverage and start to tear chunks of flesh from neck and face. Eagerly swallowing down nice bits of delicious warm meat. You were never one to actual eat meat, you just drank blood prior. Mostly because you assumed that’s the only thing you were required to drink. However watching your meal ticket eat has inspired you to pick up the same habit, keeps you fuller longer. Besides if you were going to be eating his scraps that meant whatever you left behind had to also look like his scraps at the end of the day, and Drifter hardly ever drank like a normal vampire would.
It’s good though, still warm on the tongue as the wet noises of you burying your muzzle into the corpse and prying meat from bones echoes into between the tall pines. Tonight was a good night.
“Aw, little puppy stole my snack from me huh?” The low timber tones of a voice behind you has the fur on the back of your neck raise as you turn, teeth bared instinctively before you see who it is and the growl on your tongue dies down to a whimper.
Strolling in casually from the woods is the stalking form of the vampire, that constant smile painted on his face as gets ever close to you and your tail tucks between your hind legs. You don’t know what to do, pretend to be a dumb wolf? Will he know? Will he kill you anyways? You’ve never seen him interact with animals to know if he kills them as indiscriminately as he does people.
“Was wondering when you’d finally show yourself.” He continues on as he approaches shoes crunching on the detritus of the forest floor. Your frozen unsure if you should run or stay. Either option feels bad, you know he loves a chase, but maybe you could outpace… no no, he’s faster, he’s always faster. You’ve seen him slow himself down or give people a countdown just they can get ahead a little before he inevitably catches them. There’s no point in running from him.
“Don’t you know, it’s rude not to introduce yourself, I’m sure you know who I am by now, but what about you?” He finally stops and crouches down closer to your level, but still above you. There’s still wet blood dripping from bow of your maws and your muscles are still tense ready for you to flee, but you know there’s only two real outcomes. He either decides to kill you, or he doesn’t those are the options. It’s a coin flip really, but anything else will just get you killed. So you shape shift out, bones and skin shifting until you come back to your real form. You end up hunched, crouched in a similar position to him. You give him your name, just the first, the last name you feel like doesn’t really matter anymore. Your voice comes out in quiet and rough whisper. It’s been a very very long time since you’ve spoken to anyone.
“Been taking scraps for some months now huh? You didn’t think I’d notice some pup following me around?” He questions.
“Months?” You echo back, and his head tilts a little out that.
“It’s been longer than that?”
Much longer than just a few months.
“I think… ten years now? I don’t really keep track of time.” It’s maybe a few more years, maybe a few less than that, all you really care about in regards to time is the temperature changes these days. A small huff of a laugh leaves his nose, “Huh, color me surprised, you’re a sneaky little thing.”
You thought you’d been extremely sneaky yourself and thinking back on it, you aren’t sure what could have given it way, you’re almost always watching him and he never gave any indication like he knew he was being followed.
“What gave it away?” Might as well ask before he disembowels you.
“I was on the trains one night, and decided to move over a cart since the one I was in was getting chilly.” His eyes drift off into the distance behind you as he recalls the memory, before focusing down at you again directly. “Found you sleeping, thought you were just some homeless person, but I had a certain gut feeling and started checking the area around where I was staying after ‘going to bed’. Couldn’t always find where you were hiding, but I found you enough times to know it wasn’t a coincident.”
“Damn.” You knew you should have been hiding a few more carts down, but sometimes there’s shifts in the daylight between trains, when things are taken off and shipped elsewhere and you feared unknowingly being put on a different train and losing track of him. It’d take you a long while to try and catch back up with him again and you were way too used to eating good for that.
With that he stands to his full height again, and you think that this is it, say whatever prayers that certainly aren’t going to save you now if you need. But instead of striking you down, he dips his head towards you, as if you were just two acquaintances catching up. “Good to finally meet my little follower, you have a good meal now.” With that he turns away heading back towards the log cabin.
“Wait you’re not mad?” You ask after him and he stops turning his head to the side to address you.
“Eh? Why should I be? Why you’re just hungry, wouldn’t blame anyone for being hungry right? You’re just acting in accordance to your nature. Nothing wrong with that.”
Then he keeps walking, whistling a tune you’ve grown rather familiar with as he disappears from your vision.
Things had been more or less the same since then. You still follow him like he isn’t aware you’re close by all the time, mostly out of habit, and partly because it keeps you on your toes to being sneaky. However for meals you come out, there’s always more than enough to share, and you’ve always preferred a hot dinner. Sometimes you help pick off stragglers, or corral somebody back into running into him. You feel just a little less like a leech, and more like some symbiotic creature, you help here and there, not a total mooch anymore.
When he happens to go into bars or other establishments you shapeshift in your wolf form and follow him like loyal animal companion. Most of the times no one really questions him for having a wolf walking in beside him, but you think most of time people just assume you’re just a homeless man’s dog. He does tend to refer to you as his ‘puppy’ if anyone does ask for your name, and cautioning them that you have a ‘biting problem’. Which is admittedly pretty fun, and does dissuade people from trying to touch or pet you.
Tonight’s a little more relaxed though, fancy even for once, having raided a nice little getaway vacation home away from the bigger populace that sits right by a lake. The newly wedded couple that had rented or bought the place are both of your respective meals for tonight. The lights are dimmed, rose petals and blood splatter stain the marble floor, there’s white and gold balloons hanging from the ceiling. It’s not often you get to take an actual shower that isn’t just standing in the rain and letting the water wash the muck away so you’re taking full advantage of the working water while you have it for the night. Means your food will get cold, but worth it as watch the tub drain with weeks worth of grim and build up. Doing well to wash your hair with some pretty good shampoo and conditioner while you had the opportunity. The tub was nice and big clearly meant to have room for two people, and you sit in the nice warm water, letting your colder body soak it all up, before you leave. Raiding the drawers for some newer cleaner clothes, taking what will fit which ends up being a tank top and some sweat pants. Also swiping a towel from the bathroom as you head back towards the living room.
“Showers free if you want it.” You say to Drifter as you walk by him hunched over his meal, nearly having picked clean the corpse of the groom. He eats more when there’s less to go around, and isn’t so wasteful. “Don’t know why you bothered washing up if you’re just gonna get messy again eating.” He says as he starts to get up and you give him a small smile. “Already planned for.” You take the towel your brought with you and drape it across your front as makeshift bib. He chuckles at that, mumbling something under his breath before leaving to wash up a bit himself.
You start to kneel over the newly wed wife, her eyes are rolled back into her skull and blood splatters her pretty nice white after party dress for the evening. You can vaguely recall when you were young and human, fantasizing about getting married, a far cry from your fantasizes nowadays where you think about your next meal. Your eyes catch the glint of the golden ring on her finger, and you come to hold up and pry it from her cold dead hands. Twirling it in your fingers, before slipping it onto your ring finger. You turn your hand this way and that admiring the cool metal on your skin, those childish fantasizes coming to mind. However the only person you consider yourself to be close with these days is Drifter, and well, he’s Drifter so there’s that. There’s something… bittersweet about it, ring’s not quiet your size and fits awkwardly, you’d almost certainly lose it if you were to try and keep it. With a small sigh you take it off and toss it behind you, as you lean down towards the corpse again. Angling the head to one side so you can get a good bite in. Your teeth sinking into the soft flesh, and tearing away a nice heft piece.
However after chewing through the first bit you pause, slowing down as you carefully swallow it. Something tingled on your tongue as you took the first bite, and you move your tongue around your teeth trying to gauge the odd sensation. You take one more bite just to confirm your suspicions only to find the same sensation moving over your tongue and you spit out the meat. Getting up and untying your impromptu bib and rushing to kitchen sink to wipe the blood off your face rather than lick it off. Your brows furrow together at the odd sensation and head towards the bathroom, knocking on the door to get the other vampire’s attention.
“Hey, Drifter.”
“What?” He calls back over the sound of running water.
“Did that guy taste funny to you? Like at all?” You question and he’s quiet for a moment before he answers.
“Bit of a tingle on the tongue, but nothing unusual when eating someone whose had a bit to drink.”
You make a small humming sound, you were aware of that, but this felt a little different and your instincts told you something else was a miss with that flavor. You wander out from the room, going back to the kitchen, it’s a mess from when you both entered and hunted the two humans down. Broken glass here and there, knives that were tried to use to fend you both off. Yet you search through it trying to find what you were looking for. Not finding it in the kitchen you continue your seeking elsewhere until you find it. Just beside the heart shaped love couch in the living room. The ‘champagne bottle’ you both saw the couple drinking from prior. Except… this was not champagne, hell it wasn’t even alcohol.
Lithica’s Love Potion
Just a few drops to spice up the bedroom, and make
memories for a lifetime.
Take three tablespoons and wait roughly fifteen to thirty minutes for effects to kick in.
Effects Include:
Increased Libido
Increased Stamina
Increased Fertility
Higher Sensitivity
Feverish Heat
Excessive Sweat
Warning: Drinking more than the recommend amount may result in a lack of common sense, or more aggressive behaviors. Use at your own risk.
Lithica™ is not responsible for the death or injuries caused by those under the influence of Lithica’s Love Potion.™
You shake the bottle a little to find it’s practically empty. As your staring the glass container trying to gauge how much this was going to be an issue, you hear the patter of footsteps of Drifter coming from beside you. Your face turns up to see him dripping wet, black mop of wave hair clings to him, fresh clothes stolen from the couple and in similar fashion to you.
“Hey there puppy, anymore booze left in that thing?” His voice speaks in but of more lower timber tone than usual and he stands more closely to you than he typically cares to. Eyes drifting between you and the bottle.
“Drifter. This isn’t alcohol.”
“What?” He says quietly.
You don’t have the heart nor the balls to explain it, so you just hand him the bottle so he can read over the label himself. You watch as his eyes scan over it a few times, seemingly having to reread some lines to grasp what was going on.
“Huh. Well shit.”
“Do you think we can make you… throw it up or something?” You try to suggest, but he shakes his head.“Nah it’s way too late for that, I’m already feeling hot and bothered.” You figured as much given his mind doesn’t seem as sharp as usual and you think you can start to see his pupils going from dilated to little slits and back again in waves.“I got two options for you. You can run as far away as you can and don’t come back till the next night or,”
“Or?” You echo. Call it being co-dependent with him, but you don’t like the thought of being away from him without being able to keep a good eye on him. You’ve grown to used to having him around in someway or another.
“You stay and we let nature take it’s course.” You tense up at the suggestion, your mind wandering back to the ring you tossed. You had meant for it to be a sort of acceptance that that, or anything like that just wasn’t on the table for you anymore. Not as a vampire, not with Drifter, but being intimate again? God you don’t even remember the last time you had sex, it’s been at least two decades. It’s mighty tempting too, but if this is just a one-off thing you aren’t sure if whatever humanity is left in your heart could handle that.
He shakes the bottle in one hand, offering it towards you.
“Still a little left in here if you want to join in.”
Then again what was that saying? Better to have… something then never at all? Yeah that’s a good enough excuse, you’ll deal with the heart ache later and you take the offered aphrodisiac. Leaning your head back as you chug what’s left at the bottom and your body tensing as you nearly choke on the flavor. It’s harsh and cold on your tongue, leaves your mouth feeling like TV static. You stick your tongue out, and gag a little from it and vampire besides you laughs huskily.
“That bad huh?” He questions and you shake your head ‘yes’.
“Let me get a taste.” You’re going to hand him the bottle, but he ignores it instead grabbing for you instead. His hands coming around your waist and the back of you neck to hold you in place while he tries to shove his tongue down your throat. Muffling your surprised sounds as his tongue moves over your own and tasting your teeth. You’re stood still a bit stun locked, before you embrace the moment, dropping the bottle to the ground with a small thunk and wrapping your arms around his body that is slowly warming up under the effects of the potion.
Your face buzzes with a growing warmth as lips lock together messily with one another, scruff of his chin scratching you as he presses himself into you. Claws digging in and pinching your skin, as the hand on your waist slides down towards your ass to grab handful of it and you moan into his mouth.
When he pulls away, and you both pant there’s a few strings of drool attached to your lips.
“That does taste awful, how the hell did they get through most of the bottle?” He chuckles, and you follow as well. “I don’t know, must have some pretty good alcohol around here somewhere to drown out that flavor.”
“You want to try and find it, or…?” He trails off and you shake your head ‘no’.
“No… I…” A shiver runs up your spine as it’s starting to get harder to think clearly. “I…think I’ll die if you don’t take off your shirt right now.” His smile widens, and you can only imagine what those teeth will look like half-sunken into your skin. “Normally I wouldn’t believe that, but…” He pauses for a moment, hand on your backside tightening. “I’m starting to feel the same way about those pants…”
With a huff he tosses you over one shoulder and starts to haul you through the home, making your way into the bedroom. Blood rushing into your head intensifying the dizziness washing over you, your hand attempts to reach his ass so you can grab it, but you only manage to make a passing swat on it. In return you wince in pain when you feel a much stronger firmer hand smack your ass, a pleasurable shivering running down your spine to accompany it. You are then tossed onto the bed, body bouncing on the mattress before steadying as you lift yourself up to see him crawling on to the surface as well. Red stained hand grabbing onto your leg and dragging you a little closer to him making you fall back down again. Other hand coming up to start tugging on the sweat pants and you help to shimmy out of them and your undergarment as well, as he makes his way further up stopping at your hips where his breath ghosts over your exposed skin.
“Open up for me puppy.” He requests, but your legs tremble nervously before he helps you to pry them apart. Your legs coming to rest over his shoulders as he leans in further to the mound of your pussy to inhale your scent directly. Your legs feel the shudder that runs over his body as he sniffs, pressing his face directly into you and your knees press into the sides of his head. His prominent nose rubbing up against your clit, and tongue slipping out to lick from bottom to top. Beard scrapping against you as he starts to bob his head up and down as he tastes you slowly. Your hands moving down to try and press him further into you, but he doesn’t budge and you whimper. Your body heat is steadily rising, and you’re starting to think you can actually feel your heart beating in your chest for once.
“C’mon, please, please, please…” Your pleas fall on deaf ears though and become a pathetic mewl as Drifter doesn’t budge from any of your attempts to get more friction out of him. Body going from warm to burning, and a pleasant buzzing in your skull fizzling into something more. Sweat starts to sheen on your skin, and where he isn’t your body begs from him to be.
Finally his lips wrapping around your clit and harshly sucking in, a wet slurping sound made and your hips buck. Hands coming around your thighs to keep you in place while he starts to messily eat and drool over your cunt. Teeth clench as you suck in harshly through them hissing while he groans into you, the bed starts to creak and shake as the vampire before you starts to thrust his hips into the mattress while making himself a home between your legs. Your fingers curl into his head, nails digging through his still damp black waves as you grab and tug, making him growl when you tug too hard. However the sensation from the sound you receive is more than worth it, even when his lips come away from you with a wet pop and he bites at your inner thigh for the offense. Blood beading from the mark and he laps up what little slips out.
“Starting to think I’ve been spoiling you too much… you’re getting awfully greedy, must be all the table scraps I’ve been feeding you huh?” He lifts himself up from your body and crawls further up and you can smell the musky scent of yourself on his breath as he pants above you.
“Do I have to punish my puppy for being so gluttonous?” He queries and your few remaining functioning brain cells fight between agreeing that you did and denying it. Eventually one side winning out over the other in hopes it’d get you faster to a quicker release and his body pressed against you again.
“No, no I’ll be good, I’m a good puppy, I promise, please.” You beg him, brows knitted together as you try to muster your best puppy eyes you can towards him. Hands rubbing over his sides, feeling the unusual softness you hadn’t expected him to have on his stomach. “Hmmm… Hard to deny you, when you look like that.” He huffs out, and you preen, when his hand comes up to rub your head and you lean into the touch. Tilting your head so you can press a flutter of kisses across his red stained wrist.
“Hmm, get up. I wanna give you taste of me.” He demands instead and you move scooting upwards to give him space. He tosses away his clothes as you switch positions with him eyeing the newly revealed skin with rapt interest, as you come to lay between his spread legs propped up on your elbows.
His thick cock, hard and resting against his stomach, thick coarse black hair covering the base and leading up into a happy trail and his chest. You press your cheek against it, the heavy musky scent of him wafting into your nose before you lean up to place a kiss right at the tip. A bit of pre-cum coming out that you swipe away with your tongue. The taste salty and bitter, but hardly anything compared to the low long groan Drifter let’s out from the action. Hands coming around to grab at the top of your head, nails scratching against your scalp.
“Don’t be a little tease.” He encourages and you lift yourself up further, mouth opening as you get around the head, being mindful of your fangs as your tongue starts to move around the glands and foreskin. The hand at the top of your head, forces you to go lower, and your jaw strains, before jerking as with another shove it hits the back of your throat and you gag. “Come on now, relax that throat of yours, show me how much you want it.” He affirms, hand moving to your cheek to pat it.
It’s hard to remember that you don’t technically need to breath, the habit still not fully dying down with you even after all these years. You struggle to make your muscles calm and lax before you attempt to force another inch down your throat. The urge to gag ever present, and your nose wanting to naturally breath in. You moan around the length in your mouth, the hand atop of your head helping you move forward as he bucks his hips into you. Fucking himself against you, balls moving against your chin as his movements start to ramp up in pace. Your hands bracing themselves around his waist, claws squeezing into the fat of his sides. Tongue swirling around whatever part of his length is currently in your mouth as drool starts to slip from your lips. Coating and slicking his length up while you sputter on his cock, his movements growing faster and your head spins from the motion while he growls and moan beneath you. A keening sound made in the back his throat before he’s pressing you fully down to the base of him. Back arching, hair tickling your nose as cum pumps down your throat, his hips still trying to move and ensure you’re swallowing every inch of him. You can feel his balls clenching and tightening as he finishes and his grip eases, and his length slides out of from your lips. Taking in a deep breath as a new unfamiliar weight settles in your stomach and line of drool connects from your mouth to his spit coated cock.
“Was that good?” You ask looking over to him, giving a few more kisses to the head of his cock while you waited for an answer. Unable to see his face at this angle, as he’d fully leaned back into the bed when he came.
“Very… good.” He answers back after a moment, and you continue to pepper his cock with wet smooches traveling and moving over to his inner thighs and sucking on skin. He rumbles lowly as you continue your ministrations, languishing in your touch. Claws gently scratching a spot behind your ears that makes you tremble and whine. Your wetness between your thighs having gone neglected while pleasuring Drifter, and the heat mounting in your stomach making you unbearable eager to relieve yourself.
“Hmm, maybe if you beg really nice for me, I can do something about that.” The vampire offers, the claw from his ear sliding against the edge of your jaw and lifting your head up to meet his eyes.
“Please, please feeling… really hot, help me.” You try, putting on your puppy dog face again to try and tempt him, but he just smiles wide, grip on your chin getting tighter.
“Oh, I don’t think you’re begging hard enough.” He teases in a sing song voice, while he shakes your head. Your bottom lip pouts and you move to sit up more and start crawling over him.
“Please,” You whisper pressing one kiss to his soft lower belly. “Pretty please,” You purr, moving further up and pressing another kiss this time to his more firmer chest, lick skin and sucking. Salty sweat resting delicious only your tongue, tempting you to bite, but you don’t want to be denied your release in case that upsets him. Moving up to meet him face to face, black wide pupils surrounded by a ring of blood red, which flex just a little as you get closer. Pressing another smooch to his cheek, stubble brushing against you. “Daddy-” You breathe out the two syllables and have no time to say anything else before you are both roughly flipped over switching your positions and moved again so your laying on your stomach. A huff leaving your mouth from the sudden movement, as the large weight of Drifter settling on your back, the hard stiffness of his cock pressed against your back. You feel a warm breath ghost over your shoulder before you feel sharp teeth dig into your shoulder and hands holding you down by your waist. A yelp leaves your mouth from the pain, before shifting to pleasure and you arch your back up into him.
Trying to help shift yourself so he can have easier access to your body, underside of his cock sliding and throbbing against you. You strain your form to angle yourself just right as he moves again, catching on you before slowly sinking into you. Both of your sharing groans of pleasure as he fills you open. Stilling for a long moment, and you feel him twitch inside of you, his hips jutting into you and extra inch suddenly, before he pulls back.
His hips then roughly thrust forward pushing you into the plush mattress with each motion, while he keeps his teeth grounded firmly into your shoulder. Blood seeping down from over the curves of your body and a tongue reaches out to lap at what spills out. Your own teeth bite into the pillow in front of you quickly tearing it between your fangs; feathers and fluff come out as you shake your head unable to control yourself. Your ass pressing back up into him as he bucks into you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix and bruising your insides while your pussy desperately tries to suck him in. Your legs spasm beneath his form, wanting to shift either to get closer or angle him further away you aren’t sure. You feel his lips move as he attempts to speak while his jaw is clenched around your shoulder, but whatever it is he’s trying to say too muffled by your skin to mean anything. However the sounds he tries to make travel through your body and make your head buzz as you try to speak back in your own unintelligible strangled moans and words.
Your cunt squeezes down on him tightly as a long muted moan leaves your feather filled maw, and you shut your eyes as your body tenses as you white out. Immediately going limp while Drifter still moves at the same pace behind you, not slowing down in the slightest despite your orgasm. Only releasing his teeth from your shoulder and placing his head beside yours breathing harshly next to you, and licking up the side of your face.
“Too, too much.” You manage to whimper out, after spitting out the fluff and feathers from your teeth. Drool sliding down your chin as you pant heavily, the added weight of Drifter making it harder to breath.
“Just a little more, for Daddy yeah puppy? You be a good girl for Daddy.” He encourages and your back shudders with his words nodding. You could be a good girl, you could be a very good puppy for Daddy. Your own voice echoing out the word yes in quick succession while he kisses the pulse against your neck. Teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as you feel like you’re about to burst into flames, or be completely smothered by him into nothingness.
You writhe when you feel him still against you, cock pressed as far as it will go inside, your organs feel like they’ve been shifted and jostled around from all the motion as cum floods you. His hips pulling back slightly just to shove himself in again and again stuttering as he empties himself moans into your neck while kissing and sucking whatever it is his lips can reach. Rolling his hips a few more times before going limp on top you, but occasionally thrusting here and there chasing whatever faint hints of pleasure he felt from your oversensitive pulsing cunt.
Your voice croons weak and overworked as you let out a heavy sigh, finally satisfied, your skin starting to cool down. Relief rolling over your body even if Drifter is still moving his hips a little here and there.
Your too tired to talk, too tired to do literally anything, even thinking feels like it’ll be too much effort right now as your eyelids grow heavier. You don’t have a preference anyways if Drifter isn’t going to move or not, his body is still running hot and feels like a nice heated weighted blanket atop you. You yawn intent on going to sleep, however the vampire behind you slowly starts to pick up his pace again behind you. Hands grasping around you with a renewed vigor and you groan.
“One more time puppy, come on.” He says right beside your ear as his weak thrusts start to build again and you poor pussy quivers overstimulated.
You are reminded as you catch a look at the sustained lingering hunger in his eyes from your peripheral view that while you drank roughly a little more than what was the recommend dose for the potion, Drifter consumed someone who had many times over that dosage.
Oh this was going to be a long long night.
Tonight there’s no hunt, you’re starting to travel south as it’s starting to get pretty cold as winter sets in and trying to get somewhere warmer for the season. This was the only cargo that actually had some soft things to sleep and rest on, that being a couch and some other miscellaneous furniture items and boxes surround you. It’s basically pitch black inside, but you can still see in a vague grey scale what’s around you. You both lounge on the couch together sharing what little body heat you have to offer with one another. There’s a week old newspaper you stole that you’re reading through to pass the time as the train tracks rumble beneath you.
Your eyes catching and scanning over a headline several times before reading the description, a warning about an attack attributed to Drifter from two weeks ago. It reminds the populous to stay inside after curfew and to be on the look out for a stray male unknown canine creature matching your description reported to be following and hunting with said viscous vampire around and being dubbed ‘The Stalker.’ There’s even some cheesy line at the end comments about vampire’s best friend being dogs before you sigh after finishing going over the paper.
“What is it?” The vampire prods from beside you, resting his head in the crook of your neck.
“They still think I’m a boy wolf.” You see him roll his eyes from side vision.
“I keep tellin’ you that wouldn’t be problem if you just hunted with me in your true form.” His arm resting around your shoulder comes to cradle his hand at your hip, lifting your shirt up an inch, claws grazing the skin.“Wouldn’t mind seeing you all covered in blood while you stalked the night.”
“I like being a wolf though.” A small huff of air leaves his nose at that, you’ve both had this same exact conversation a few times now. Before being a wolf was just to avoid consequences or your ‘real identity’ being associated with The Drifter, but you’ve slowly grown to just not care about that anymore. After all how much more associated can you get when you both share the same bed together when you both can get a bed to sleep in for the night anyways? Other than that you just prefer hunting in that form, it just feels right to you, and otherwise you don’t feel like you’re the most intimidating or threatening person. “I know, I know, they’ll get it right eventually just don’t expect it to be too soon. Mortals takes a few decades to get with the times or get things right.” He explains and his hand’s claws move from your waist to play with your fingers, twirling the golden band over your ring finger.
{ a/n }: part 1 right here but if you dont wanna read the context is that dude just walked up to reader at the bar. please give constructive criticism i havent written in 4 ever
The lengthy (frankly awkward) pause you unintentionally put the conversation in dawns on you when you notice the corner of his lip quirk up. It earns you the faintest glint of his teeth, and your jaw clenches as you clear your throat to try and ease some of the tension in your shoulders. If asked, you’re sure you couldn’t put a pin on what feeling is looming over you right now. It’s almost visceral. This strange, undeniable pull that keeps the thought of just getting up and leaving far from your mind, as if it's the last thing on your mind. There’s literally no way in hell that this guy is some sort of nightmare made manifest, because if that was the case your survival instincts had to be absolutely terrible. The energy around him feels.. uneasy. Charged and steady, like a volatile electrical current just behind a wall. The dim lights overhead flicker when a particularly loud beat pumps through the speakers, and you swear for a split second that his eyes almost look like they’re glowing.
You suppress a shiver that threatens to rip through your back, shifting on your seat instead to help ease the anxiety from his attention. “Nothing you just… you look familiar.” The response you stammer out doesn’t seem to convince him as he raises his brows a bit and hums. Instead he peers down into his own glass, a dark, viscous drink that almost looks black in the bright blue light behind the barn (it coats the side of the glass when he sways a bit). You don’t remember watching him order one, but you are tipsy. “Familiar?”, he repeats, and he chuckles again. “Don’t get that one too often. Don’t look like it’s a good thing either; you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” You push your hair back from your face. You hadn’t noticed how pallid you felt in here, but when your fingers make contact with your forehead you feel the slight bead of sweat at your brow. “Maybe not. I know I haven’t seen you here before, at least.” The hand that’s propped underneath his chin falls, crossing over his other arm. “Where else you seen me, then?”, he drawls, sounding deceptively indifferent despite his frankly shameless prying.
The way he looks at you makes you feel strangely transparent, as if he already knows what you’re avoiding thinking about, but it seems too foolish to consider that seriously. Sure, something about him is definitely off, but to go so far as to assume he’s a mind reader is worse than the nightmare thing. Still though… you know you’re a little drunk, but it’d be dumb not to trust your instinct. No matter how charming he is with his accent and aloof disposition. “Would it be corny to say my dreams?” He smiles fully now, wolfish and amused as he leans back a bit. “Maybe in worse company.” “I’m just… not sure what else to call them.” You sniff a bit and take a sip of your drink. It’s probably not super normal to tell a stranger this but you’re not the one who started the conversation. “Maybe.. nightmares? Or.. something dirtier?”, he asks, and you find yourself rolling your eyes to shake off the flush. You could surely blame it on the alcohol (or the way his deep drawl draws out the words and settles somewhere deep in your belly without your permission), but something tells you he’d be able to see through that. Not that you’d confirm it, but the way you stiffen up a bit seems to tell him all he needs to know.
“Something like that.” You let the conversation trail off. You’re not sure what he’ll do next, but you don’t feel his presence leave. The track on the jukebox changes and you notice the crowd has thinned a bit, even if not by much. It’s slower this time, a bit quieter than it was a few moments ago. You’re sure you’d feel awkward about the pause in conversation in any other case as he watches you glance around, not failing to notice the way your eyes flit towards the exit. No fear, just keeping an eye on it, making sure it’s visible. Smart. “I’ve been comin’ here since I sailed in and I ain’t seen you once, even though you talk like a regular.”, he says, and you find yourself perking up a bit at that. Sailed in? Hm, you figured because of his accent, but you can’t help your curiosity. “From where? If uh.. you don’t mind me asking.” The stranger waves a hand dismissively as if batting your caution to the wind. “Well, I’m from all over cher. Everywhere and nowhere.” Sketchy. Squinting your eyes a bit at him and tilting your head seems to give you angle to look for something he’s unsure of, and despite his previous nonchalance you see him lean back the smallest bit at the sudden scrutiny.
“Your accent says otherwise. I’ll guess Louisiana? It’s got a little bit of everywhere and is in the middle of nowhere.” A surprised brow quirks at your rebuttal, slight glint of teeth catching in the light overhead. “Clever. You know it?” “Yeah, I got family from there. Boudreauxs.” The smile that crosses over his face doesn’t seem all that wolfish this time around. You can’t help the little flutter in your chest at it, the slight stain to them doing nothing to overshadow just how handsome it looks on him. You want him to do it again, especially when he tilts his head a little bit as if leaning into it.
“Boudreauxs! Look at that, found a little piece of home all the way out here. Where they stay?” You think you catch a hint of something a bit.. flat(?) in his voice, but you shrug it off. You find yourself pursing your lips a bit, trying to remember. It’s hard to keep tabs on all the cities and parish names since you don’t exactly live there, but you do know where your mom grew up for the most part. “Uh.. Lawtell I think.” He sucks his teeth a little bit, still grinning. “The sticks. Ain’t nothin' out there.” You snort a little bit, and despite your prior unease you feel the last of it fall off with the laugh he draws out of you. “Seriously. They have pretty good food and their Mardi Gras is fun. Nothing like New Orleans though, of course.” You bow your head in acknowledgement, and he readjusts in his chair with a grin. “Nothin’ is. No place on Earth like her. These other places got their charm, though. Don’t have any bars underground like this one. On account of the flooding and all.” “Ah, yeah. Not really good for business when your customers have to swim to the counter.” It’s his turn to laugh now, subtle but with a bit of a rumble to it. The beginnings of a slow song cut into the gap left between the conversation, an oldie. You think you remember hearing it in the kitchen as a kid once. Or maybe walking down the street? The dim orange of the squirrel-cage lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling almost seem to sway with the music, casting a warm glow over the dancefloor like an invitation. Pairs of patrons gather around, offering just large enough of a space for one or two more. When your stranger casts a glance at where you’re looking he looks back at you with a tilted head, leaning just over his shoulder in a slightly lower tone. “You dance?”
The question makes you widen your eyes a bit as you look back at him, almost sure he’s making fun of you. The clear tone of harmonization from The Platters’ ‘My Prayer’ almost lures you in like a choir of sirens, and you can feel yourself doubting your ability to resist the pull. You don’t dance, at least up until this point. And when you look back up at him you can’t discern an ounce of insincerity, your resolve waning further. Whether it’s the liquor in your system or the burden of being isolated to your apartment and a mundane routine, you decide you might as well. Hell, when’s the next time an attractive stranger is going to ask you to dance? When was the last time one did? “Hell no, but I’m gonna.” The response makes him draw up from his seat, large hands resting on the counter and chair’s edge respectively as he stands to his full height. He’s.. tall. And a lot burlier than you thought. Was he hunching over just now, or are you a bad judge of size? You could’ve sworn sitting he couldn’t have been that much taller than you, but here you are nearly 5 inches underneath him and feeling awfully small when you’re in such close proximity. A slight heat draws to your cheeks and you find yourself nearly tripping over your feet to get some distance in hopes he doesn’t notice. He watches with interest, and even though it’s not audible you swear his shoulders shake a bit as if chuckling at your surprise.
You scrunch your brow and look away for a second out of embarrassment, but it doesn’t stop him from drawing closer, hand resting just above the small of your back as you both move to the floor. It trails from your back to your arm as you turn to face one another, that tension you felt in the air coming back when you have to look up at him to make eye contact, and you quickly dart them away. The scent of something almost like metal and mist (?) hits you as you draw in, undertones of his natural scent making it so that you can’t really pin exactly what he smells like outside of it being,, him. Dim lights dance him as you move, almost shadowing you and blocking any view of the other patrons behind him. It’s impossible not to focus on him, no escape from the way his hands draw up your forearms to guide your wrists up to rest at his neck. He tilts his head a bit as he draws the left one upwards, almost as if smelling you in turn. Something in his face- small and imperceptible -twitches, and he draws the other one up to meet behind his neck. Your hands flatten just below the nape of his neck, and you feel the tail ends of his hair tangle between your fingers. If the action bothers him, he doesn’t show it.
The slow pull of the music moves you to sway at first, but you feel it’s slow pull guide the both of you into a slow rythm, drawing closer. He’s large, but you wouldn’t quite say that he was ‘warm’. More of this encompassing force that cast his shadow over you as if it were trying to consume you. You didn’t really think about how many drinks you had until you stood up. The room isn’t spinning, thankfully, but the lights do feel a little fuzzier. It seems that as soon as they start feeling too bright his shade alleviates it, your head resting on his chest before you can really stop yourself. You feel something tense almost as soon as it relaxes, almost like he flinched. But your slow rhythm continues, mindlessly letting him sway you as his head goes to rest on top of yours. You’re both quiet, his head shifting. The slight rise and fall of his chest shows you he’s probably smelling your hair, fingers flexing where they are in your hips. His nails don’t rip your clothes, instead poking just enough for you to feel their sharpness through the fabric. Restraint.
tell me what you think im having fun writing these :]
Smut
Blood Kink
Talk of Cannibalism? (they techincally aren't eating their own kind so?)
Manhandling
note: this is a witch!reader, but my concept of witches for this story is that they are a seperate species, not just a term for someone with magic, I don't believe witches have been formally introduced into Deadlock, (Vindicta is more so a ghost than a witch she was just accused of being one so...) so this is just some stuff I made up and can and will be potentially wrong in the future should they introduce a witch character.
The air is briskly cold, a chilling breeze coming to blow across your face and sting your cheeks as you walk along the darkened sidewalks of New York. Hardly a soul around the streets you’re treading beside the occasional alley cat or vagrant wanderer. Your feet carry you forward on a steady path to nowhere. However despite the fact you feel as if you might start burning holes into the concrete by how many times you’ve walked around this block, it doesn’t lessen the aching pit in your stomach.
The Maelstrom is soon.
Relatively speaking, just a few months away and with it the Ritual. The sensation is vaguely similar to how you might have felt as young child waking up for a special occasion like your birthday, the initial excitement and then the disappointment and dread that follows.
Everything does hinge on whether you can actually complete it, or if you’ll even survive. Given the nature of these kind of things and reality warping implications of such dark magic this could be something that can actually kill you. No magic circles or supernatural regeneration to save you from such a fate.
That’d be a damn shame in deed, if you put all this work just to end up dead on one of these street corners taken before you could even get your fill.
Speaking of all this walking has been getting you pretty hunger.
Just as you’re about to leave the same trail you’ve been going around in and thinking about the nice nap you’ll have after back at the Hideout, your temporary resting place that you and some of the other ‘ritual attendees’ have been gathering at to discuss plans and train. When a scent catches your nose in the frost air, makes a small puff of cold air float away from your lips, cloyingly metallic, musky and sour. Like a rotted corpse, you might have assumed that you’d just passed by some dead stray in one of the alleyways, but you’ve grown very accustomed to recognizing this specific odor.
The hair on the back of your neck raises, as you stutter in your steps, unsure if you should turn to face him or pretend like you don’t notice. Although given that the owner of this smell is more beast than man, you don’t want to potentially indulge him and accept falling into the role of ‘prey’. Although maybe he’ll take offense to you calling him out, but if you’ve any luck maybe he’s in a good mood, or he’s already eaten.
You finally come to full stop, turning on your heel to look back only to find the empty street before, a bit littered with trash. The head lamps above offer the only light in this moonless night. One flickers some twenty feet away uncertainly between the sidewalks as you stare hardening your gaze.
And just as the light goes out for just the barest moment when it comes to again, there he stands, appearing like an apparition.
You can’t see his eyes under the brim of his scruffy hat that casts a shadow on his face, the only notable feature is that wide toothed grinned and the long red stained skin of his unnaturally long bulky arms. Your breath quickens and when the light flicks again his gone. Although you know he really isn’t, that scent is still heavy in the air.
There’s a brief moment is some smaller part of your brain that screams at you to run, that this is danger, this is a predator, and you are nothing but prey. However if anything about yourself has taught you about these things, it’s that running away will only spur him on.
Besides, you’re not completely defenseless, if you really need to get away tail between your legs you can do just that.
So you take in deep calming breath before you turn fully waiting there for either the stench to dissipate or if he’ll actually approach you as a person and not an animal.
However nothing comes of it, and maybe he’s just waiting for you to turn your back around or dismiss the event as ‘a trick of the light’ or something. However the scent has only grown stronger.
“I know your there.” You call out.
“Then why don’t you say hello?” The thick dark accent of the creature behind you whispers out from directly behind you, the warm putrid scent mouth so close yet there is no warmth as you recoil back, spinning around. Greeted by the hulking looming frame of the Drifter himself standing over you, same chesire smile on his lips, he chuckles as you gasp and let out an expletive and stumble back a few steps. Just standing there staring at him while you try to slow your breathes down, and keeping your gaze focused on him.
“Heh, What’s wrong witchy? Cat got your tongue?” He questions with a tilt of his head and you can now seen the piercing red glow of his eyes cast upon you.
You straighten up a little, letting out a small sigh, before clearing your throat and coming up with a decent enough response.
“No, just you… surprised me is all.” You mumble out and he gives another half-hearted chuckle at that.
“You know you surprised me a little too.” He starts and his eyes narrow a little,“Most people don’t know I’m coming till it’s too late, and those that do,” He leans down and you have a front row seat to the shiny white pearls of teeth as he speaks down to you, “Tend to start running.”
It feels like a test to see if you’ll give in and just do it either out of fear, or just because he’s implying that he wants you to. Wants you to give chase, give him a reason to hunt you down and tear your insides out.
“Guess I’m not most people.” You rely back after a long moment, and he glowers down at you keeping that same wide smile before it drops a little, shoulders relaxing. He leans back and you revel in the space you are afforded.
“Guess you’re not. Damn shame, was hoping you’d give me a good chase.”
“Sorry… about that?” He shrugs. “Eh don’t be, maybe I just gotta try a little harder next time. I always enjoy a challenge after all.”
And you didn’t want to stick around long enough for that happen, so despite your hunger you figure now is a good a time as any to skedaddle.“Well, good luck with… that, now if you don’t mind; I’m gonna be heading back to the Hideout now.”
“Oh, but the night’s still so young, and thinking about it witchy, we haven’t gotten to speak much one on one now have we? Take a walk with me?” It’s phrased as a question, but in his gravel umber tones sounds like a promised threat. And you know better than to piss off an ancient vampire, so you accept with a rather reluctant nod of your head. As you both turn are start to slowly walk the streets together.
How odd it is that you can hardly hear his foot steps despite being right beside you, and it remains quiet for a bit as you two wander. You aren’t sure if he’s just waiting for an opportunity to spook you or if he just needed a good excuse for a walk.
“You know in all my years, I haven’t met any witches. Y’all just stay cooped in your own little covens and what not, betcha you got some kind of equivalent of high vampire society and what not?” He eventually pipes up from besides.
“It’s all just covens, or loners.” At least as far as you know, you don’t have much knowledge beyond your own circumstances and a few things you’ve heard here and there, and you’ve not met a whole lot of witches. Besides your kind doesn’t like to share territory with non coven members. It can bring too much attention, but also they just have too much of an ego to allow any kind of mutual partnership outside of forming a coven or they’re so paranoid they won’t stand for it. You tend to fall into the latter category.
“So which one are you?”
“Loner, covens tend to only actually benefit and serve one individual in the triad. Plus there’s a lot of infighting and jealousy, not worth it, and there tends to be some crazy absurd rules you have to follow.” You’ve only been in two different covens before, one with your birth mother and another with a witch you had meet in passing and her sister. However the difference between the covens was… really not that different at all, different names and different rules to play by, but they both sucked all the same.
“Nah, nah I get it, I don’t much prescribe to the stuck up, ‘civilized vampires’ myself. They’re pathetic, neutered dogs of themselves that pretend to be something they’re not, sickens me the whole lotta ‘dem.” He spits out. You’re knowledge on the going ons of socialite vampires isn’t something you’re read up on, but you’ve heard there can be extreme punishments for those that step out of line.
“Isn’t there consequences for operating outside of their rules?” He huffs at that, tilting his head and you meet his gaze for a moment. “Does it look like I care for a single one of ‘dem?”
Clearly not, he doesn’t even care that there’s several monster hunters and police looking to kill him.
“Fair.” You simply reply before you turn your gaze to look forward again. Also it might be that even the high socialite’s wouldn’t dare to get in the way of The Drifter himself. You wouldn’t want to.
Although despite how much he terrifies you and the scent he has is much less to be desired, it is fascinating as you walk. That you are walking alongside a living legend, a being that’s been around for possibly hundreds of years and maybe just a few more hundred he probably won’t even remember this conversation and you’ll be dead somewhere.
Maybe this is like what an astronaut feels like being next to a star or around a moon, so much larger than life, it’s unsettling to think it’ll just keep going but you won’t. At least maybe you won’t, if you can live past the Ritual you might get a step closer to becoming that much more powerful, all that more grand.
“I am rather curious, and I hear so many rumors about witches, care to indulge an old dog?”
“Sure go ahead.”
“What is it that you all actually eat? Some stories say you eat up kids who stay out too late, others about seducing men and tearing their hearts open, or stealing organs from folks while they sleep. Or does it vary?”
“Half of that is just tall tale and the other stuff is just for rituals or incantations.” Well the kids thing is very true, but that was not for the sake of eating, that was for producing another witch. You also don’t fancy giving him the birds and bees talk about how witches make more witches. In part because you don’t know all the details yourself.“What we eat for actual sustenance is souls.”
“Huh, and what do souls taste like?”
“Depends on the person, the kind of life they’ve lived, their experiences and memories. Like…” You trail off looking further up ahead into the distant street light of the lamps up ahead. “Let’s say I were to eat Billy’s soul, I imagine he’d be tough to swallow, hard and chewy, burning hot with a savory undertone overpowered by an ungodly amount of spice and bitterness.” Thinking of the initial taste has saliva pooling in your mouth. You wish he was a little more palatable for a more even flavor, but you can’t deny he wouldn’t be a decent meal someone like him.
“Hmm, and what do you think I’d taste like?” And at that Drifter stops walking and it takes you a step or two to notice before you stop yourself. Turning your head to look at him while he waits for your reply, all teeth on display. You wonder if the muscles in his jaw ever start to hurt just by how much he gives that unnerving smile, but for him he probably likes whatever little ache or pain it brings him.
“Hard to say never had the pleasure of consuming something like you.” You can’t even really imagine anything beyond a notable metallic flavor. Not that you’ve even consumed a vampire before to really even take a guess at that too. He hums at your answer and you eagerly wait for him to start walking again so you can go back to before.
“Never had the pleasure of consuming witch blood neither.” He states plainly, his shoulders are still laxed, he doesn’t look like he’s going to lunge at you, but you wouldn’t put it past him.
One red clawed hands comes up, blackened sharp nail pulls his shirt just half an inch lower,
“Why don’t we… indulge ourselves a little? You give me a taste, I’ll give you one.”
It’s completely stupid to ponder his offer for even a second, and maybe if you weren’t already hungry you could think better and decline. However, when were you ever going to get a chance like this ever again? To taste the soul of someone as aged and powerful? Even if you aren’t even going really bite into his very essence, you can only fathom what kind of sensation might lathe over your tongue. Scrap against your teeth as you gain the barest hint of the kind of strength that lies within him.
And all he wants is to taste witch blood?
“I’m interested, but…” You trail off, if you were going to do this you can at least be a little smart about it.“Make a pact with me.” The smile is instantly wiped off his face with those words, “Really you want a pact over just having a sampling size?” His head ticks to side,“Do you think I’m stupid?”
You quickly shake your head, “Not at all, just don’t want either of hunger lusts to get in the way, with a pact we’ll both be forced to comply. All I’m asking for the pact is that you don’t kill me, I don’t kill you when we give each other a little taste is all.” You stretch out your hand towards him as you propose your counter offer. It’s more so protection for yourself, you have no doubt Drifter could simply rip you in half if he felt you were getting too into the tasting.
He seems to be eyeing you up from your hand and going over the words of pact, before deciding the wording is acceptable enough for him, and won’t put him in any kind of actual trouble.
He rolls his eyes, before finally grasping your hand, claws wrapping around you and shaking it firmly. A small ring of ethereal chains appearing to float around before binding together around your hands, making your words set in magical runes. You’re about to let go once the binding is done, but he grips your hand tighter and pulls you in closer to him. Until your merely a few inches away from his face, “Any little of ‘dem witch tricks and I’ll tear your pretty guts and watch you bleed out.” He threatens in low whisper, his eyes narrowing, and you rapidly nod your head. The glare he had erased and replaced by his smile once again.
“Good, now why don’t we find somewhere dark and quiet?”
Apparently somewhere dark and quiet was an alley way that didn’t have any head lamps nearby to help see in the darkness. Your witch eyes can still discern the vague shapes, but not the details as Drifter leads you by hand to the very end of the brick wall at the end. His hand hadn’t left yours since you’d both binded for the pact, but it finally eased when you got to the end of the walk. His red eyes glowing lowly in the darkness, you can see them appraising you as you both stand there.
“Well, ladies first.” He offers and looks to you waiting.
Your heart beats hard in your ears as you almost can’t believe you’re actually going to taste his soul. With your mouth already watering and your common senses a little muddled, his offer is all the go ahead you need. Your hands coming up grip the sides of his broad frame, nails digging in as your face meets his chest. He remains still as you open your mouth first to taste the air, to taste his emotions, and all you’re greeted with is the cloying scent of hunger and excitement tinged by the putrid odor he natural omits. It’s tantalizing, as your mouth opens up wider and inhales in deeply. Your lips and the front of your teeth scrapping against his chest as red glowing essence begins to be uplifted and pulled from within where you breath. It takes a great effort just to get your teeth around the emerging black and red fiery orb that is him, before your tongue reaches out to move across it.
And for one disappointing moment you taste nothing at all, before the flavor hits you in full force. It’s deep and rich, a savory taste dripping with juices and not only filling but quenching a thirst you didn’t know you ever had. You greedily breath in through your nostrils wisps of his soul entering in and out like puffs of smoke. An unusual heat making itself known in your lower stomach while you feast. Your hands more desperately grasp around him, as if trying to dig into his flesh and keep him pinned to you forever. You can feel his hands come around you, pressing you further again, as if encouraging you, and you feel so tempted to simply bite down and eat him alive. However the weight of your pact abides your gnashing jaws.
You could stay eternally attached just like this and you’d be satisfied for the rest of your days, but you know you can’t. So with a last few sucks and licks you finally rip away panting like a dog, your head buzzes with delight and your blood pulses thickly through your body. Face warm and hands jittering with energy, your eye sight comes in out in patchy black spots and waves as you stumble. Your legs growing weak and knees knocking together as your hands cling to him for stability and you shift the burden of your weight onto him.
You feel his chest reverberate under your cheek as he chuckles lowly, his cold body is a blessing to the heat your face. “How’s ‘de taste?” He asks.
“You, you…” You gasp and try to catch your breath, “You taste… like ambrosia. Something, something otherworldly, savory, juicy… Oh Gods…” You mumble out in slurred words drunk off the merely the small sample he’s afforded you. He let’s out another huff of a laugh again as he helps steady you against him.
“Such high praise, but now let’s see what you taste like.” With that you are roughly pushed and slammed against the brick wall behind you. Knocking the back of your head where a dull pain blooms and you initially start to struggle out of instinct as his hands pin you in place.
“Yeah, keep fighting, I like it when they have bit of a bite.” He encourages, as you start to kick a little more with your free legs as he closes what little distance there is between the two of you. His head bending down into the crook of your neck. You feel the puffs of air that leave his mouth and nose as he inhales your scent, savoring it on his tongue.
You feel his lips suck on the sensitive skin of your neck making you jolt before he opens his mouth wider, fangs scrape against your skin, breaking it and you can feel your blood begin to pool to the surface. A long tongue moves over the junction of your shoulder and neck lapping up whatever bleeds out. You can hear him moaning in delight while he feeds and his arms shift their position on you, from holding you against the wall to coming down around your torso and lifting you up. Placing a knee between your legs to hold you up, while he wraps his arms around you. Tightly like vice he squeezes as if to help pump more blood out of you, and your breath wheezes as it’s pushed out of you. Your own arms come to wrap around him as well, and you find yourself giggling deliriously with what little air you do have. Nails rake over him, before deciding that his clothes were getting far too much in way, and you reposition them to travel under his shirt. Tenderly feeling him up, until you reach the apex between his arms and chest and dig in. As deep as you can, you can feel the wetness of blood on your finger tips, the clumps of skin under your nails. He growls into your neck and sucks in more harshly under your touch. His hips suddenly bucking against yours and although surprised by the action you roll your hips back into his with the same fervent fever.
Consumed by your instincts, the heat that was lingering in the pit of your stomach prior finally being fed into as you start to hump each other through your clothes like animals. Breathy sighs of half-satisfied pleasure leave your lips, while his tongue starts to travel more liberally around your skin. Curling around the sides of your ear making you tremble before a hand leaves from around your body to lift and bunch up your shirt. Pulling your bra several times before it snaps and comes loose as he tosses it somewhere into the darkness of the alleyway behind him.
His lips and teeth coming to gnash against your breasts in rapid fashion, unable to decide if he wants to taste your skin or blood and settles for both as he sucks and bites into you. You flip flop between recoiling and arching your back into him.
You can feel a growing stiffness between his legs as he rub and presses himself against you, grinding his hips and scrapping your back against the brick. The sensation makes you keen and wrap your legs around his waist. However he pulls away, breathing heavily, the scent of your own blood heavy in the air as he pants like a dog in heat, tongue lolling out and all.
“You good to go all the way? Or… you wanna stop here?” He questions, licking his lips free of the blood around his mouth. “Gonna be honest, don’t think I can stop if we keep going. So tell me now.”
You sit there for a moment trying to actually understand him, your mind still reeling from everything. Generally witches don’t experience any kind of sexual or romantic emotions, you reproduce asexually after all; and while there is certainly nothing romantic about getting it in the back of a decrepit alleyway, that doesn’t lessen the heat in your body in anyway.
You’ve already indulged in the taste of his soul, why not his body too?
Your hands come from under this shirt to grip it and pull him closer till you whisper directly into his ear. “If you stop, I’ll hex a binding spell on you to myself.”
He let’s out a pleased sigh at that, “Oh don’t threaten me with a good time.” With that your lips mash together and you close your eyes, as your teeth clink against each other, your tongues rolling around in your mouths. You can taste your blood on his mouth and you hope he can taste his soul on yours. When he bites down on your tongue and warm blood gushes forth in your mouth you wince and attempt to pull back only for his hands to come up and keep your face in place while he wraps his lips around your bleeding tongue. Greedily sucking up the gushing blood and your saliva, your own hands in retaliation move from gripping his shirt to up around his neck. Pressing and restricting his throat so he gurgles around your tongue. Neither you wanting to relent until Drifter seems to have enough.
You’re roughly thrown to the side, and your breath is knocked out of you. Your skin on your arms is scrapped and when you lift your head up you see him prowling towards you.
“Getting tired of seeing you in all those clothes.” He says as he approaches and you shift so you’re holding yourself up by your elbows, your eyes narrowing at him.“Could say the same about you.” He stops just a foot away from you. The barest hint of the blue night’s light above outlining his frame above you in the darkness.“Oh and what are you going to do about it?”
“Come here and find out.”
His smile widens, “Gladly.” He huffs out before lunging over your body, his weight slamming into you and making you groan. Your hands immediately wrapping around his coat and ripping away whatever clothes are getting in your way. He in turn leans his head down to tear and rip off what remains of your clothes with his teeth, spitting out bits of fabric to the side. Whatever he can’t reach with his teeth is ripped away by his claws leaving stinging trails of beading blood over your skin.
Your hands once they’re done tearing off his clothes come around his neck, and your legs wrap around his waist and pull him down. Knocking your heads against one another, your bare sex rubs against hard length, the wetness between you smearing against him and you hear a guttural groan like a large cat purring against you as you move. His own hips coming down to roughly press you against the concrete below. Smothering you as you squirm under the sensation of his cock rubbing right against your clit. Your writhing body desperate to release the building tension in some form, decides to bite down into his shoulder. You can taste the salty sweat and metallic stain on his skin as you lap up the flavor.
You can feel his hips shift a top you, and him bucking in every so often, trying to get the head of his cock to line with the opening of your pussy. Failing and sliding against you, as you trail hickies and bites from his shoulder to his chest, trying to avoid the large patch of hair that trails from his midsection and the happy trail down towards his pelvis.
You hear him snarl in frustration above you as you don’t stay still enough for him to properly enter you. Until he finally has enough and his hands gripping your waist dig into the meat of your body and pin yo you to the ground while he bucks a few more times trying to insert himself before it finally catches. You whine as you feel the head snag, back arching your mouth popping away from sucking on his skin as you grit your teeth. Until finally the wetness pooling out from you and the force of his hips breaks whatever resistance there is left and a few inches of him sink in. There’s a tight initially burning sensation and you try to swallow back the pain in favor of moving your hips again to feel that delicious friction rather than the pain of him entering. However the sting is delightful as well in it’s own way, even if you can feel some warm stickiness that isn’t the natural lubrication you’re producing leaking out and coat his cock.
“First time? You should have told me, I would have been more gentle cher.” He comments and his hips still, as if he’s giving the opportunity to actually slow the pace.
“I wouldn’t be fucking you if I wanted gentle and sweet.” Your own hips try to buck upwards but are stopped by his hands, “Now move.” You grunt out as you try to fight against his grip, but he holds you still.
“Oh careful with demands like that witchy, I might just fall in love.” He whispers his tone dripping with an artificial sweetness before he pulled himself back and slamming into you, giving into your desires. You find your mind reeling back from the sudden fullness inside you initially squirming away but unable too as he keeps an iron grip on your hips, before slowly pulling out with a low rolling groan and shoving himself back in full force making you grit your teeth. You see his eyes aglow with hunger above you, “I’m gonna enjoy this.” Is the last coherent thing he says before he pulls back one more time. His hips start a whole new pace rapidly pounding into you in quick succession, you can feel his heavy balls smacking against your ass as you moan and whine against him. Arms wrapping around his broad frame as you make a scratching post out of his back while buries his teeth into your shoulder, the canines scrapping around your bones as he feeds off you.
The sounds you both make don’t sound sentient as they vibrate between both your bodies, growls, yowls, and grunts; you can only assume anyone who might hear thinks that two animals are trying to viciously eat one another alive. And they might be right as you start to suckle on the skin of his chest, bringing back to the surface the taste of his soul’s essence and drinking it in. Getting light headed and delirious over the sensation that washes over you and makes your pussy gush with heat as you’re fucked into the ground. Saliva pools out of your mouth as you drool over him, and it slides down your chin. You slobber like a dog and he does much the same, as you feel more than just your own blood pouring from your shoulder as he sucks up your blood. He finally pulls away from a pop of his lips off your bruised skin, and lays his head beside yours.
“Take it.” He grumbles out beside your head, hot breath panting beside your ear and tickling you.
“Fuckin’ take it.” He demands again and you pull back from drinking in his essence to look up at him. Blood and saliva wet his chin, as he looks down at you wide eyed, the red of his eyes consumed by black pupils as he observes the face you’re making. Your body moving and jiggling against him as he moves faster and your own hips meet his in an increasingly sloppy pace. You can feel your pussy gripping him harder as he slides in and out. Your juices sliding out and down the side of your ass and onto the ground as your stomach tightening and muscles cramping, your legs locking firmly around him as your eyes roll to the back of your head. A long uneven moan dragged out from your throat your whole body stilling before going limp as he stops moving all at once himself. Then immediately pumping a few more times whilst you hear him moan out and feel his cum flooding inside of you before his form goes from completely rigid to slack and he collapses on top of you. Only bothering to move his head a bit so he can lap at the scabs forming around your body.
You both lay there, the only sounds is your labored breathing and his tongue moving over you. Your cunt throbbing around his cock that is growing flaccid inside of you. A heavy musky scent hangs in the air that is both sour and savory between the two of you as you lay there staring up into the night sky above and the twinkling stars. You let out a long sigh once you finally catch your breath.
“I never got to ask… but how does witch blood taste to you?” You ask in a quiet scratchy voice. You hear him lick his lips beside your head before replying, “Like a sweet strong liquor, got a mighty bite to it, but nothing I don’t like.” He says, before giving you one last lick across your collar bone, smacking his lips to savor the taste.
“Might have to come back at some point for seconds, not sure where else I can get a supply like this.” He mumbles before he chuckles, “Unless you can point me in the direction of some witches you wouldn’t mind goin’ missing.” You don’t know any, not really enough to know their current whereabouts at least. Although if circumstance were a little different you wouldn’t mind throwing them under the bus to save your skin, but with the pact still standing Drifter can’t kill you while ‘tasting’.
“Can’t say I know where any of them are these days.” You say with a sigh, and he finally sits up a little so his whole weight isn’t smothering you. You start to sit up and briefly look down to see the messy state of yourself, and he fully sits back and allows you stand up on shaky legs.
“Guess we’ll have to do this again then sometime, yeah?” He offers as you stretch out your back, getting fucked on the concrete was certainly not the most comfortable thing ever. You shrug your shoulders,“Maybe.” You don’t want to confirm anything or piss him by saying no, you can already feel your better senses returning to you and screaming at you how much of a big misstep this all was on your part.
“I’m tired, I’m heading back now.” Is all you say as you start to stumble towards the entrance of the alleyway, with a quick wave of your hand casting a temporary illusory spell to appear as if you weren’t butt-naked roaming the streets of New York. Leaving behind Drifter in the alleyway that now reeks of blood and sex. Yet no matter how far you keep getting from it, the scent clings to you.
The walk back to the Hideout is painful and awkward, with a buzz still thrumming through your body and throbbing pulse between your legs. The glamour can only do so much to hide your nude body and all the scraps and injuries you sustained during your… fling. You needed a long bath, and maybe even a drink to forget this mistake you made.
As said before, witches don’t usually ever feel sexual or romantic emotions, and therefore sex is a pretty foreign concept to you, or at least it was and now you understand why. There’s a lot of regret and loathing you feel washing over your bare skin. Why on earth had you let some man fuck you like that? Sure he’s powerful, he’s a legend but what the hell did it get you besides all these cuts? You could have just indulged in the taste of his soul and left it at that, he even gave you the opportunity to do just that. Now his seed is plastered to the inside of you womb and you have to go out tomorrow to get some kind contraceptive or find some spell that would insure your sex was uninhabitable, because the last thing you need is potentially giving birth to whatever unholy abomination could be spawned between the union of a witch and vampire.
You’ve only heard that a witch and human or mortal coupling typically leads to things called hex-bloods or half-witches. Not that you’ve ever even seen or meet one before so you can’t be too sure they exist at all. Still you don’t want to personally find out.
Finally slinking up to your room and dropping the glamour spell, you make your way to the bathroom with a sigh pausing as you catch your reflection in the mirror.
You look like you’d fought off a hoard of wolves, deep bite marks littering your skin alongside hickies, bruises, and scrapped skin. There’s a tiredness to your eyes, as you glare at the reflection. Trying to produce a modicum of disgust you should feel at your disheveled appearance, but the only thing that bubbles to the surface is…
Lust.
The thought of his putrid scent ghosting over your senses, the taste of his skin and soul just out of reach. Making the throbbing between your legs stronger still somehow not quiet satisfied despite your vigorous romping earlier, and you turn away from the mirror. Going about to setting up a hot shower to wash away the events of tonight.
