hi hello welcome to my evil account where i only write for drifter because he just picked me up with his big ass yaoi hands like a claw machine.
gn reader | not proofread | 18+ minor and ageless blogs dni | 1.1k words
cw: handful of drifter headcanons, some sfw some nsfw, pronebone, mating press, creampie, some praise, prolly smth else
you'd have to be someone very, very interesting for drifter to keep you around. he's been around for a long time, and not much intrigues him more aside from the hunt. at this point, it doesn't even matter if your blood tastes good or not, it matters as long as the chase is thrilling. he likes to play with his food, too. so, if you're one of the many unlucky ones that don't particular sate his tastes, you won't be getting a quick death.
now, if you do somehow manage to catch his eye, that might just be worse. it has been quite a long time since he's held any interest for any one, and as time went on, the word 'love' fizzled out and died in his vocabulary. that being said, it's not often he gets a hold of someone like this, so he damn well won't let go. he's got you in his claws, now. he doesn't plan on letting go any time soon.
he likes to be close, so goddamn close. always hovering over your shoulder when he can, hands finding your waist, trailing up your sides, over your ribs one by one… it's hard to tell if he's appreciating you, or assessing the meal. one thing in particular he loves is nuzzling into your neck. not in the cutesy 'i love you, i missed you' way, but in the same way he toys with his prey, always making sure you know just how easy it would be for him to end it all right then and there. or, 'break up', for lack of better words.
on the topic of him being close, he ain't exactly clean, either. maybe he'll brush them pearly whites every once in a while (because flesh and viscera stuck in between his teeth is just a nightmare), but showers, baths, anything of the sort? that's a once in a lifetime experience for him. he quite likes staying dirty, the way the scent of blood, iron clings to him. plus, if you could handle him when you first met him, then why should he start now? he doesn't need to spiffy himself up and act like someone else around you. you've survived him this long, so that must mean you like him juuust fine.
but, he does have a soft spot. one that is hard to unlock, and buried deep down inside of him. one he doesn't plan to share during your lifetime. he's had his fair share of relationships— alive and dead—, and more than enough trysts to get a taste of what 'romance' was like. he thought the need for touch, for closeness, for warmth was long since dead, replaced by lust occasionally. unfortunately, something inside him still aches, yearns to be touched gently again. to be held like his life matters, like he's something worth cherishing. that won't be something you can bring out of him any time soon, though.
despite how much he likes you knowing just how powerful he is, he at least goes out of his way to hunt down all sorts of different meals for himself. and even goes the extra mile to make sure you don't see exactly what he does to ensure he is fed. you can imagine, though, when he comes back smelling even worse, blood still dripping from his nails and mouth, and that damn grin. sometimes, when he's just thirsty rather than hungry, he'll ask you oh so sweetly for a little sip. and when you tilt your head to the side and allow him to drink from you, well, that just gets him riled up. it's not long after the first bite that he's made it painfully obvious just how much he appreciates your companionship.
he goes from drinking, to grinding, to throwing you up and over his shoulder and hauling you away to bed. at least he's considerate. when it comes to sex, drifter is greedy. so fucking greedy. it's quick, it's rough, and for a moment, it feels so goddamn good. he treats arousal as another need to be sated, and he's so very glad to have you to help him. he enjoys pinning you beneath him, either prone-bone, or starting with missionary. just some way to keep his control. if he's feeling generous, maybe he'll prep you, finger you a little, or get a little taste if he's feeling especially ravenous, but usually, he can't help but dive right in.
he'll lay almost completely on top of you if he can, pinning your wrists above his head as he thrusts into you, grinning and chuckling at your moans while he licks at your neck, hot breath enveloping the already sensitive skin. sometimes he bites down again, and sometimes he just plays with you. he likes to confuse you, he thinks the way your heart-rate speeds up and that almost fearful look in your eyes is just the sexiest thing. that's always what makes him start talking. he goes from grunts and groans and huffs to little praises— 'you're doin' good for me', 'taste so damn good, i just can't stop…', 'takin' it so well…'— which would be a little comforting, if he wasn't speaking like he does when he's on the prowl. low and gravelly, hungry.
and when it comes to missionary, it barely takes him a minute to have you near folded in have beneath him, pressing you further into the mattress. he likes the way your face scrunches up, when you close your eyes, or stare up at him then look away, unsure if you're making it awkward… there's just something so charming about his flustered partner, even when they're a sweaty mess beneath him. and of course, of course, he always finishes inside (if he even has sperm anymore? not like it'll do much, they're probably as dead as he is). he likes a mess, you know this, so why would you be surprised when he stares down at your hole, biting his lip and looking like he's just about ready for another round as his cum leaks out? and don't be surprised when you find bite marks and claw marks on your body when you swore he never touched you anywhere but your hips and neck. sometimes he gets ahead of himself.
after all that, of course you'll feel a little tired. probably through the entire day, or maybe even week if you're unlucky and he just so happened to like the taste of you that night. treat yourself to a steak, or maybe start thinking about taking iron supplements. you might need them.
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.
i will name this something better IN THE MORNING i had to get this out of my system it feels kind of rambley but i have WORK in the afternoon and im posting at FOUR AY EM so be gentle with me and or enjoy
gn reader | not proofread | 2.8k words
cw: hurt/comfort i dont have the mental capacity to think of anything else, might be ooc i wrote this to get over a situationship then another guy came along and distracted me its a whole thing i hate men but i love drifter
drifter finds your scent comforting, always has. he describes it as warm and 'full of life', metaphorically and physically. you're sure if you asked him to explain further, he'd just describe the scent of blood to you. still, you take it as a compliment. a man like him, who's boiled his life down to the thrill of the chase, still finding things to be soft about. you're flattered, truly.
he swears your scent changes based on your mood. that's why he's so adamant on making sure you have the best time with him. but sometimes, he catches you at the wrong moment. you try for him, you really do. it's rare for him to stick around for more than a day or two, and when he does, you are practically attached at the hip to him. he doesn't mind, really. he's aware of his… behavior. the problem is, he's a stubborn old dog. he calls himself 'drifter' for a reason. he never intended to stay too long, even if you had him wrapped around your finger.
it's that very thing that gets to you. it had been a rough couple of weeks, and all you really craved was a soft touch, something gentle. what a shame it was, your partner was out prowling patrons knows where, getting his fill of blood.
you curl up in your bed, pulling a pillow close to your chest as some sort of hollow comfort. it feels a bit pathetic, but you do your best to fill the void drifter has left in any way you can. you face the window, watching lights flicker, the smoke rising from buildings. a melancholy air settles over the cursed apple— which is what you tell yourself to make you feel better. yes, it must be all of new york that's moody, not just you. it does little the soothe the ache in your heart, unfortunately.
however, before you can get comfortable enough to brood, your view of the city gets obstructed by a large figure. you raise your head, before realizing just who it is. you groan as the man grins.
you wanted to see drifter. but, at the same time, it suddenly felt sickening. you craved his touch again, but irritation caught up faster than relief or happiness did. before you can shoo him away like some crow, he opens your window from the outside. you can tell he was about to say some snarky, maybe a little too nasty comment, but he pauses when he sees your frown.
"what's wrong? do i still got blood on me?" he looks down at his shirt, and wipes his mouth. yes, he still has blood on him. he always has blood on him. but that's not what you were frowning at.
all you find you can muster is a pathetic, childish little "go away."
he looks at you like a dog who's just be told to go home when there's food out. then, he laughs, finally stepping into your apartment and onto your bed.
"ain't no way you're tellin' me that," he chuckles, looking down at you. but when you don't smile, he deflates a little. "really?"
you feel your throat stiffen, and your eyes burn. you mentally berate yourself for this.— why are you about to cry? at what? what he said, or him showing up? you wanted him here, dammit. he showed up at the exact time, and yet— you do your best to hide it, simply pouting at the man. but of course he notices, he always does. for how much time he spends apart from you, he can never find it in himself to ignore any signs you give him, good or bad.
"awh, cher," drifter murmurs, reaching out to you with those big hands, still bloody. you jerk your head away, closing your eyes tightly. "c'mon… don't be like that."
but you, to his dismay, continue to be exactly like that. you shuffle further away from him on the bed, clutching the pillow to your chest for emotional support. you don't dare to look at him. this breaks his heart more than you know.
you can feel him staring at you, before you hear fabric rustling as he sits down. he doesn't say anything else, staying almost deathly quiet, as if you were a timid little mouse who would run away at any sound. after a few minutes of your defiance, you open an eye and look over. he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes haven't left your form yet. he gives you a concerned look, one that's almost uncanny for a man like him.
you don't say anything. neither does he. he's unsure if you're ready to talk, and wonders if you'll just turn your head again if he tries to speak. after another moment of silence, he figures he might as well try.
"i've clearly done somethin' to upset you, so…" he takes a chance and scootches just a little closer, "… mind tellin' me what it is?"
you feel like it should be obvious. but when you stare at him for a little while longer, he doesn't continue. he only raises his eyebrows, prompting you to speak.
there's a million ways you want to phrase it; 'you're never around', 'i wish you were here more often', 'why can't you spend more time with me?', but all you can choke out is—
"you left me."
drifter's eyes widen, and he reaches out, a flicker of something passing through his eyes— reflection?— before he stops himself. he's being surprisingly mindful. and it's clear he doesn't know exactly what to say.
"i— oh, darlin'…" he finally speaks, but it gives you nothing to work with. it's clear he's struggling with words; which was funny to you, it felt like he always knew what to say.
when words fail him, he turns to touch. he pushes himself closer once more, placing a large hand on your knee. he sucks in a breath, like he's waiting for an adverse reaction. when all you do is sniffle and look into his eyes, he relaxes a little.
"look, i'm sorry," he mutters, as if those words took a great deal of effort to speak. you narrow your eyes at him and he is quick to defend himself, "i didn't know— i didn't think that it'd be such a… a problem?"
his tone does little to make you feel any better. he sounds unsure of himself, like he was reading from a script that he didn't know how to act out yet. you furrow your brows and place your hand on his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it. he squeezes your knee gently, as if to say he doesn't want to let go, before reluctantly letting go. he sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"what i meant to say is… oh, i don't know," he admits defeat finally, deflating a little. "i didn't think about it."
that lessens the blow for you. just a little. at least he admitted to it. but you still find yourself at a loss for words. sure, you had gotten an explanation, but you felt like it wasn't enough. a little voice inside of you called you selfish, but the louder voice told you it was okay to feel that way. you weren't the one who left him alone for weeks at a time.
so, what do you do? you pout. it may not be the most mature response, but to be fair, what he's been doing isn't exactly mature either. drifter scoffs; once again, he didn't mean to, and he tries to catch himself. it turns into a half-laugh, one you can't tell if it's genuine, or if he's nervous.
"how about this," he starts again, leaning forward a little bit, hoping to catch your gaze. "you tell me how i can make it up to you."
"you could stick around more." your response is immediate and blunt. he expected this, of course.
still, he found it a bit of a hard ask to deliver on. you both know why. his nature is to wander, his existence had been whittled down to hunger for so long, his pallette ever expanding.
he doesn't hide his reaction. his eyebrows furrow and he lowers his head, but he doesn't protest. he gives a reluctant sigh— which does little to quell the pit in your stomach—, before nodding.
"i know—" he cuts himself off, pursing his lips. he sucks in a breath, before he tears his gaze away from you, finally. "i'll try."
the answer is not good enough. he knows this too. he is too ashamed to say it out loud, but he knows this will not do.
"i don't want you to try," you turn towards him fully, finally reaching for him. you place a firm hand on his shoulder, one that does little to comfort the sudden doubt he holds. not that you meant to comfort him. "i want to see you more. i want to be around you more. i want to fall asleep with you and wake up to you."
you squeeze his shoulder, and he looks back up at you.
"i'm sick of just pretending that it doesn't hurt when you're gone for so long," the words were flowing now. a mediocre response like 'i'll try' was enough to flip the switch, and now you couldn't help but spill out the word stew in your brain. "'cause telling myself you'll come back doesn't work that much anymore. i know you do come back, but—"
and you choke. you feel a tightening in your throat as tears prick your eyes once more.
"it's not enough."
drifter's body loosens for a second, as he raises his head. he doesn't know what to say. your words hurt— it's been a long time since he's felt like this. since he's had to really commit himself to one thing, one person. connection was something that was long gone, he thought. specifically with the living, with someone so warm and full of life. he knew he wasn't an honest man, especially in undeath, and yet he selfishly found himself looking for something to hold onto. he had done so without realizing what kind of effect it had on you. and only now did he realize the consequences that followed.
his heart squeezes, and he finds himself floundering, reaching up to cup your cheeks, fingers twitching when he remembers the way you acted just seconds prior. but he wants to hold you. he doesn't like it when you cry, after all. your smell loses the warmth and vitality he adored so much.
before he can even come to a conclusion, his hands cup your cheeks. large, cold, and metallic smelling hands. his thumbs catch your tears almost instinctively, and through the blur you can almost make out a near distraught look on his face. you don't pull away this time, your hand meekly letting go of his shoulder.
"i'm sorry," he says rather softly. quietly, even. "i didn't know. i wasn't thinkin' right— when am i ever thinkin' right when it comes to you?" he tries to lighten the mood with that little comment, but his voice drips with a vulnerability you have never heard.
it makes your stomach turn— or maybe it's butterflies?—, and yet you can't bring yourself to pull away. this is what you wanted, and you'll be damned if you squander an opportunity like this. he holds you so gently, cradles your face like you're the most delicate thing he's met. you can tell he wants to do more, but is too hesitant that he himself may make it worse.
he relaxes a little when you dont pull away, some weight lifting off his chest. when you leaned into him, his heart stuttered, like he was a flustered middleschooler who was holding hands with his crush for the very first time. your reaction surprises him, but his own shocks him more. perhaps it was the previous context that made this feeling heavier, one realization followed by another.
he liked this.
a lot.
suddenly it barely made sense as to why he had spent so much time away from you. maybe new york wasn't too bad? there was certainly an abundance of food here, from all sorts of places. it was fine dining for him. and it'd be enough if you were here with him, right?
drifter looks down at you, before lifting his heads to cup your head, fingers threading through your hair. his touch is gentle, and you swear you can feel a slight tremor. you'd question it, or even tease him, but you can't get the words out. you can barely organize your thoughts.
it's nice to be held like this again, even if he smelled like blood and sweat and smog. it may have been an unpleasant smell, but it was something you missed, too. every little thing was. you cant help but take a deep breath, allowing his scent to settle in your lungs. he chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest; he knows what you're doing. it's the same thing he's done to you every time he's had the chance.
one of his hands falls away from your head, moving to your back, stroking up and down slowly. his hands, for once, feel oddly warm. you don't question it, at the very least, they aren't soaked in blood. its a comfort you weren't expecting, especially from a man as cold as him. but it seems that you have struck a chord within him. one that has not been plucked in at the very least a decade— or maybe a century?
the silence between you is comfortable. not oppressive like your demeanor had been before. drifter wants to speak, his mind is starting to run a million miles per minute, words piling up. but he doesn't. at the same time, he doesn't know what to say. this isn't the end of the discussion, he knows that, he just doesn't want to ruin the moment. you're so comfortable, with your tears cooling over your cheeks and your little sniffles as you try to regain your composure in his arms, why would he want to move onto the next part? he'd rather wait until you're ready.
and after a couple seconds, ready you are. you slowly pull away from his chest, lifting your head and straightening your back. he reluctantly lets go, his hands dropping to his sides.
"you could… do more of this, too," you gesture vaguely between the two of you, smiling just a little. "a good cuddle is nice every now and then…"
"oh, darlin'…" he drawls, grinning childishly. "that wasn't exactly a cuddle, but… i wouldn't mind doin' that more often."
you both share a laugh, before you tilt your head to the side.
"y'know, a couple date nights would be nice, too," you hint.
he seems stunned for a moment, before blinking away his confusion. "you and me got different…. appetites. you know that, right?"
you nod.
"so… you just want me to invite you out to go huntin' with me?"
"no!" you huff, fake pouting this time. "real date nights, drifter. like… like dinner and a movie—"
"—now i ain't exactly got money, cher—"
"you kill so many people and you don't look for their wallets? at all?"
drifter pauses. you pause. he looks away like he's thinking. once upon a time, he did take any and all cash he could find on a person, but that was in his younger days as a vampire. now, it really didn't matter to him. what use did money have to him? he didn't need much, just a good meal and a place to stay. but for you, well, maybe it was time to start searching bodies once he had gotten his fill.
you can see the light bulb go off. hell, you can hear it. you can't help but give him a smug little smile as he nods slowly.
"i ain't had much of a reason to go lookin' for their wallets 'til now, i suppose," he hums, sitting back and scratching at his scruff.
"well, you better start," you keep up this bratty bit, just for a little, "'cause now i'd like to see some fine dining in the future."
"fine dining?"
he's stunned, now. his jaw drops like the concept is new to him. or like he knows what follows.
you nod.
"the kind where i gotta dress up all fancy like?"
you nod again.
he deflates, looking kind of like a puppy who came in from the rain. "does it mean i gotta shave…?"
you shake your head, and he lights up like a christmas tree.
"maybe i can handle a couple of rich folk and fancy food for you then… as long as you let me get some dessert after?"
you raise your eyebrow, giving him a questioning look. "are you implying—"
"blood, cher. i mean blood. you know how tasteless most food is to me out here. so… if you could look the other way while i grab a bite or two…"
well, it's a start. you close your eyes and nod in agreement.
this one is all for my tboys and tmascs out there. i dont care if its not period accurate i want this guy to get his rocks off to me being trans. also based on like stuff that happens when i take my t, so idk may not be entirely accurate to you as the reader idk
transmasc read/afab reader | not proofread | 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni | 705 words
cw: transmasc fetish, forcemasc if you squint, fingering, cunnilingus, frotting
drifter, who is almost obsessed with the way your body changes on testosterone. the hair, the muscle, the energy, the libido, and gods, the bottom growth. It all ignites a whole new kind of lust in him, one he didn't even know existed until now.
his hands wander, always. he can barely keep them off of you in public, but he tries his best. groping, kneading, grasping hands that move from one erogenous zone to the next, from the back of your neck to your shoulders, slowly moving down… before he wraps his large hands around your hips and pulls you in closer. he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, taking in a deep breath. the smell drives him crazy. not just the musk, but the blood underneath it all. it smells stronger. it takes all his strength not to just bite into you.
what he loves even more is the day of your shot. he loves giving it to you, maybe a little too much. he's always grinning to himself (more than he usually does), muttering little praises to you. sometimes you worry that he'll push the testosterone in too fast, but he never does. after your shot, you have to remind him to throw the needle away before he climbs up your body, kissing every patch of skin he can find, up your thighs, your wrists, anywhere…
it doesn't take long for him to get riled up. the minute he reaches your lips, you can feel his bulge pressing against your legs, and he shamelessly ruts into them, breathing heavily as he presses a sloppy kiss to your lips, practically licking at them, trying to open you up to him. not that he needed to coax you much, you always open up for him.
he always, always tells himself to wait, that you'll be begging for his touch by the end of the day. and yet, he never listens to himself. he has to have you in the moment, he doesn't know why, but the simple task of taking care of you in such a way gets him so fucking hard. he doesn't care about the science behind it, he just needs to get off, and make you cum.
for once, drifter isn't looking to get himself off. at least, not yet. when it comes to you, and especially on your t-shot days, he's a munch. a vicious, nasty, and hungry munch. he is head over heels for your t-dick, zeroing in on it each and every time. he sucks on it like theres no tomorrow, like he'll never see you (or it) tomorrow. he slobbers all over it, always so eager to please this part of you. and it's always pleased to see him.
he doesn't just use his mouth (despite how drunk he is off your taste). he loves working with his hands, remember? he always finds a way to incorporate his fingers, rubbing at your t-dick while he eats you out, opening you up to get a better taste… or, when you complain that you're feeling sensitive down there, he always wants to touch— 'lemme feel ya, cher', 'awh, that just means you want somethin'…'— even when you're in public. he'll find you some privacy, either under the table or in some seedy alleyway.
when he has more time to show you just how much he loves this part of you, or he's eaten to his hearts content, he finally allows himself some relief. he strips himself down, taking his cock in hand, stroking it a few times. as much as he wants to let the anticipation build, he never does. he practically dives right in, pressing the underside of his cock against you, his tip touching yours, as he thrusts back and forth slowly. he doesn't dare push in, not even the head, just yet. as he frots with you, he throws his head back, groaning like this is the best damn thing he's felt in a way. his eyes roll back as if he's in haven, this simple act tearing him down, making him whine like he's a virgin. he can cum just like this— he has before. and if you cum with him, all the better.
