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magicwithered · 10 months

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Delissandro learns that he loves Colin. Deli also learns he loves Karna. These loves, he learns, are different but no less impactful. Both he also learns, more than a little painfully, a little too late.

His love for Colin is tinged with boyhood and want. He wants to be known. He wants the meatlands to be free. He wants to aid in the war and play the political games that his mother refuses to do so. He wants and he’s willing. If he believed in The Bulb, he’d might even say it’s his destiny.

So he names Colin his Skald. His trustworthy advisor. He wants Colin. He doesn’t know in what way yet. The man ten years (at least) his senior. He’s but a boy. He has no idea what up or down is. How to quantify his want, how to understand his want. He wants. So he must have. This is something he is unwilling to compromise on.

Colin is his Skald. He is close to him, always. That makes Deli happy. His Skald is never apart from him. They are always close, always talking. Two years is more than enough time to form a bond forged in fire. So he thinks.

Deli wants Colin with him. Colin, however, does not want to be apart of Deli’s plans. Not anymore. A bond forged in fire, he thinks, too bad the welding was thin.

His love for Karna is a slow thing. Anything else, and it would be weird, anything more...he wishes that there was more. He doesn’t notice it at first. Of course he doesn’t. Each time he sees her it’s hard to reconcile the person she’s become in the years they have been away from the person she was before. She is a 14 year old girl, and then suddenly she is 16, and then suddenly it’s been five years and she’s nearing 21. Each visage is different from the last. Hungry, rotting. Hungry and lanky. Hungry and beautiful.

He calls her Skald, but inside she is just Karna. Her name ricochet's around his brain every time he lays down. Every time they win a battle together. Every time. It circles. It crescendo’s. Karna, Karna, Karna.

Deli knows about want. He’s never been good at figuring out what it means for him. It tangles with his missing limb, his old want for his Skald Colin, when he was but a boy. It changes and morphs. But there is war.

Ultimately, he wants to be slammed down big style. This he thinks, is the crux of the problem. He’s never been slammed down big style. That is what he truly wants.

With Karna.

Not Skald Karna. Just Karna. Karna who always comes when he calls. Karna who gave him her eye. Karna, Karna, Karna, Karna.

Within the same moment he realizes that he wants Karna she is gone.

Deli loves his Skald. Deli loves Karna. These both are the same type of love. But, as he watches the sun rise over the horizon of the meatlands, he comes to both these realizations much too late.

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whosjunglejim4322 · 1 year

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Stay? - Vampire!Johnny

Warnings : slight mentions of violence, nfsw, pussy eating, overstimulation, kissing (bc 🥴) johnny being overly protective and also kinda spooky but in a cute way, SOFT VAMP JOHNNY AGENDA, mentions of blood because....well, maybe I AM a monster fucker

You'd allowed him in, four months ago nearly to the date. Still, he feels intrusive in nature everytime he enters your room through the balcony window. He tells himself it's mandatory, that if your shitty landlord won't get you proper locks in a vampire infested neighborhood - it's his duty to protect you.

As he did those months ago when a Strigoi almost ripped your face off, not his choice of words, but yours. In quote, "That guy almost ripped my fucking face off." In reality, the creature would have ripped your heart out, not your face. But that's a less important detail that he had chosen not to share while you were so worked up.

Your old floor doesn't creak as his footsteps careen towards your bed, where you're strewn across the sheets like you've been hit by a bus - each leg in a different direction, your face smooshed against the pillow and your arms hanging off of the bed. A chuckle echoes silently through his hollow chest as he sits on the bottom right corner of your bed, the only available space.

Normally, his presence would go unnoticed. As if a ghost bounded gracefully into your home, but the sticky midnight air is heavy on your skin, and his being is like cool morning air against your feet and ankles. It sends a shiver up your leg and then through your spine, until your eyes are fluttering open as if you've been greeted by a breeze.

"Mm, is that you Mr. Creepy?" You grumble, tired spine cracking in a few places as you roll over on your back. Mr. Creepy. You always think you're so funny, and unfortunately, you are. It's like he goes eons without smiling until he's with you.

"No, it's the big bad wolf."

You can hear the smirk in his voice, and you'd be more prepared for something snarky in return but you're far too tired, and far too entranced by the beauty that he is, right there in front of you. His ears twitch. Curse your beating heart, for its palpitations give everything away.

It's not like it's a secret, but sometimes you like to pretend you have composure around him.

Tonight is different, it is a rare occasion when you're actually awake for his visits. He hates waking you, he envies the dreams you have, the rest. However, you insist that whenever you wake up it's only because you weren't fully asleep in the first place.

"Come here, please." You beckon softly, hands reaching out for him, and like a beacon he follows despite his internal hesitation. He is like a feather above you, the cool of his skin underneath his shirt a sweet relief as your palms press against the expanse of his broad chest.

"You're dangerous, you know that? And really tempting." His lips spread into a smile against your cheek as his nose skims your skin. You giggle, tickled by his light touch. Your fingers find their way into his dark hair, using the tufts as a way to pull him closer.

"You're the one who wants to eat me, John." Your eyes connect, and his irises begin to bleed ruby upon the utterance of your words. You don't allow him to look away as he normally would, holding his face as though you have some type of strength over him at all - it's only your will that holds him steady.

"That's only partially true," he whispers, breath fanning against your mouth. "I think you'd let me, anyways."

You can't stand even the centimeter of separation between you two, and your impatience gets the better of you as you lift your neck to reach his lips, pressing them against yours and allowing yourself to be held by his arms as they wrap around your torso.

He has to practice so much control, its the sweetest of torture. You're fragile in his grip, hot and warm and throbbing. He feels the blood pumping through your veins, the thump of your heart. It's intoxicating, and - "Fuck, I'm sorry."

He disconnects from you at once before the whimper can even leave your swollen mouth, his fingertips having pressed too hard against your sides. He's by the window, wincing, trying to scope your range of emotions. He smells the blood underneath your skin, the way it's leaking from the vessels and forming a bruise.

You're pouting, whining even, and he's perplexed.

"No, come back, please. I'm okay Johnny, really." You sit up, flushed and eager and he feels horribly guilty for the way his dick is solid against his belly, for the way he wants to crawl back to you and lick you raw.

You sense his hesitation and it does nothing but infuriate you.

"Sweetheart, you don't know the things I wish to do to you right now." His voice is low, and despite the fact that he's trying to sound gentle - the predator within him can't help but to slip itself into his intonation. Your sweet eyes plead, and your body is like the sun - pulsating with this heat. If he had a soul, he'd sell it just to be able to treat you in the way he wishes he was able to, to make love to you as a man would instead of a beast.

But you, you, you're so unfazed by his monstrosity, your feet are already on the floor and you're moving towards him. Before your toes can even lift from the surface he's got you pinned to the bed by your wrists, with the gentleness that compares to how you'd hold the stem of a flower between your fingers.

Even so, you're immobile.

"You don't scare me, you never will. I want you to kiss me again, just one more time." You're flush against him, a visceral reminder of how hungry he is for you. He groans, as if pained, and presses his pillowy mouth to yours with a force that takes your breath away.

You're enraptured by the intensity, the thrash of his tongue inside your mouth, as if he's seeking to taste every word you've ever spoken. His kisses alone feel like sex, thirsty and devout. You don't have time to put forth any effort yourself, he's taking this moment to suckle your bottom lip, then the top, in this repeated pattern until your mouth is nearly purple.

You're arching into his touch, the solidness of his form grounding you to reality so you don't float away and convince yourself this is all a sweet dream. You wiggle your wrists and he allows you room to breathe, unwrapping his slim fingers so that you can wrap your arms around his sturdy neck.

This time, when you look at him, he's different. He's still Johnny, his nose is still slender and sharp and his lips are still heart shaped and plump - but he's different. He looks like a vampire like a true vampire. Fangs have begun to protrude from behind his mouth, and he holds back the snarl that naturally wants to contort. His eyes are so dark they're like the expanse of the night sea. You're not his prey.

You're fixated, mesmerized and your hands slip down the scope of his shoulders, down past his sides and over his hard abdomen. His head cocks to the side as he hovers his lips over yours, hair tickling your cheeks.

"Careful, please." He groans, as your warm hands slip underneath his tee shirt to smooth across his belly, to revel in the slopes and planes. It feels too good, he doesn't know what to do with himself. Being with a human has never felt this way. He feels drunk.

"Open your mouth, Johnny." You ask so sweetly, he actually feels like he's the one in the lesser position of power, a choked gasp caught in his throat when your pretty pink tongue slips past your lips, and meets with the small dagger that serves as a weapon for his kind.

You don't lick it hard enough as to draw any blood, but the shiver that wracks his body is satisfying enough. When you travel to the other fang, your hand grace's over the hard bulge protruding from his bottoms, any trepidation he felt prior to walking, or floating, into your home has left him. He knows exactly what he's going to do to you.

"Can I taste you? I need to taste you." Johnny is weak against you, your hand is palming his length and he can't think straight, how odd.

"Yes, please yes." You breathe, though Johnny descends your clavicle - skipping your neck for all intensive safety purposes - before he can see you tilt your chin up, exposing your jugular to him, awaiting the sting. Instead, you're greeted by kisses that even the thin material of your tank top doesn't stop.

His hands never stray from your body, gripping your sides as he passes over your left breast, tongue toying with the hard bud through your top. The sound you let would have his heart ready to burst if he had one that was able to beat. Your arching up into him with this need, his fingertips accidentally rip through the fabric.

He doesn't apologize this time, not when he realizes you're so fucked already, you don't even have a silly or snarky comment to make about it.

His hair is a vice that your fingers cling to as he travels down to your navel, sloppy wet kisses left below and around your bellybutton. Your legs have already begun to spread, his palms traveling across your hips to the meat between your thighs where he pries them apart - greeted immediately by the scent of your arousal.

"Fuck, you're so sweet baby, all of this is for me?" He quizzes lowly, trying to take his time, to resist the urge to eat you whole as he pecks and nibbles at your flesh, relishing in the squeaks and gasps that leaves your throat at the action.

"Please, please don't stop." You beg, and for the first time, his laugh sounds sardonic.

"Don't stop? Baby I haven't even started," he kisses the crease between your thigh and your middle, holding you down to prevent the squirming that your human body instinctually resorts to when faced with pleasure. "what do you want, hmm? You want me to lick your little pussy? Is that it?"

You're taken aback by the words, by the tone he possesses. You try to clamp your legs together to relieve some of the throbbing but he's having none of that, forcing you to answer by licking the mound of your pussy through the thin little pajama shorts you have on, already tasting the sticky arousal that's been leaking and now coats your labia.

"Yes, w-want you to l-lick me." You're not sure what's come over you, why you're on the verge of tears with need but Johnny enjoys seeing you like this. A taste of how you make him feel all the time.

"That's it, that's what I wanna hear baby." He growls, cool air hitting your swollen clit as the sound of ripping fabric roars through the dark room. He has no time for the barriers between you two.

Your scent is like nothing he's ever experienced before. He's literally drooling, grateful that he's the only one who has acute vision in the dark, for he'd feel a little pathetic if you saw how hungry he is for you right at this moment. He parts your thighs even further with his elbows, leveling his face with your sex.

He uses both of his thumbs to spread your lips apart, reveling in the sticky sound of your flesh separating and opening up for him - he doesn't even tease, he dives straight in, wrapping his lips around your bud and suckling with as much gentleness as his kind can muster.

You're not sure what to do with yourself, spine arching and mouth parted with a moan that is caught in your throat. Your fingers grip his raven locks fiercely, and you feel the vibration of his hum in contentment, against your clit.

"J-John! Oh!" Your mewls only further his vigor, head shaking back and forth as dines. He rears back and spits on your folds, watching it drip past your entrance and down to your ass. Once again, he has to remind himself to be gentle with you, sweet. You're so pliable underneath his ministrations.

"Mm, this pussy is mine. All mine." He groans between suckles and licks, frustrated he can't somehow just consume you completely.

Johnny decides right then, he's going to keep you.

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