#tw. oral.

[pastafossa]

"Do I Need To Beg?" (Matt Murdock x F!Reader, Fic) 🔥

Right so like a lot of other people, I saw that leaked trailer and had thots, mostly about Matt's new beard, and much like my thoughts on his coat, none of these thots are pure. This is pure fucking sin, in other words, one of the filthier things I've written, so scroll past if that's not your thing. Also thank you to my friends over in the Murdock's Tuna Team server, ya'll are the best fucking enablers ever.

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

“Welcome home, Mrs. Murdock,” he purred darkly, lazily dragging his tongue across his lips in a way that told you, quite clearly, what he was imagining. “If you need to shower or drink a glass of water, do it now. Because the second you enter this bedroom, you’re mine for the rest of the night. And I have no intention of letting you go until I’ve had my fill.”

Wordcount: 4.1k words

Warnings for this chapter, let's do this: oral f!receiving and a LOT of it like this is literally just a love letter to bearded Matt eating you out (Matt retains his 😺eating crown), brief oral m!receiving, Dom!Matt, Sub!Reader, bondage, overstimulation, subspace, dirty talk, PiV towards the end, Matt's new fucking BEARD none of us are ok

Matt with an oral fixation incoming, here have this:

Your trip out of town had lasted longer than you’d initially expected. 

Initially you'd only planned to be gone for ten days, but ten had abruptly been extended to an irritating fourteen with little notice. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything you could do about it, though Matt had reassured you over the phone that it was fine. While he missed you dearly and would have vastly preferred you back home and in his arms, he understood that things were out of your control. However, he did have one more thing to say before you’d both given your goodbyes, something that wound up eating at you for the rest of your trip in all the best ways. 

“Besides,” he’d murmured. “It’ll give me a little more time to work on my surprise for you.” 

What that surprise was had been a mystery, one he’d smugly refused to reveal no matter how much you’d tried to pry it out of him over the ensuing phone calls. It couldn’t have been a gift for your next wedding anniversary, which was still a few months away. Nor was it your birthday, or Valentine’s Day. As best you could guess, this was just one of those moments when Matt decided to give you something, just because he could, just because he wanted to, no prompting needed. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence with him, one more thread in the tapestry made from all the many reasons you loved him. 

However, on the list of things you’d expected to find when you finally made it home, you hadn’t thought to include Matt standing shirtless in the bedroom doorway, his sweats slung low on his hips, his hair still damp from his shower. One corner of his mouth curled up into a wicked smirk, and oh, he knew. He knew, or he’d at least suspected what your response would be to his surprise, and you drew in a sharp intake of breath.

He’d grown a beard. 

You raked your gaze over it, taking in the way it seemed to change the angles of his jaw and his face, somehow adding a dangerous edge to his smile. What was more, there were little patches of grey scattered amidst the dark of it. You had no idea why, but something about those threads of silver only added to the building heat between your thighs, a fire that had started the second you’d seen him standing casually in the doorway, his beautiful body on open display just for you. 

How would it feel to touch him, cradle his jaw in your hands now? 

How would it feel when he pressed his lips to yours, to your throat?

And how would it feel as he made his way down, down, down, the rough scrape of his beard lighting you up as he drifted towards one of his favorite places on your body? 

Your shiver drew a rumble of satisfaction from him. He slowly rolled his head back, inhaling deeply, clearly savoring the scent of your arousal. 

“Welcome home, Mrs. Murdock,” he purred darkly, lazily dragging his tongue across his lips in a way that told you, quite clearly, what he was imagining. “If you need to shower or drink a glass of water, do it now. Because the second you enter this bedroom, you’re mine for the rest of the night. And I have no intention of letting you go until I’ve had my fill.”

You were pretty sure you’d never downed a glass of water and gotten into the shower so quick in your life.

Matt kept his promise. The second you stepped out of the bathroom, he was on you, his beard a deliciously unfamiliar sensation as he caught your face between his hands and pressed his mouth hungrily to yours. That wild kiss didn’t stop at just one, your lips separating only to meet again a half-breath later, over and over again. The two of you only grew more frantic with every second that passed, hips beginning to rock, bodies swaying towards each other, until you were both left gasping, frantic and breathless, hands groping desperately across whatever bared skin either of you could reach. 

“Bed.” The word was a low growl against your lips, his hand wound loosely around your throat, one thumb up under the hinge of your jaw to force your head back for him. One of your hands, meanwhile, had slipped back and down beneath the hem of his sweats, blatantly groping at the thick curve of his ass. He let out a rough groan that you eagerly swallowed down, the skin around your mouth already burning from the rasp of his beard where it had rubbed against you. “Fuck—Bed. Now.” 

He wasn’t going to get an argument from you. 

It was a short, stumbling walk from there to the bedroom. Neither of you bothered to keep your hands off each other, your fingers fisting in his damp hair as he pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to that special spot under your jaw that made your legs shake, Matt seemingly eager to drink the remaining droplets of water from your skin. You should have guessed his plans when you noticed the towel on the bed. But it was hard to focus with the tantalizing burn of his new beard dragging across the delicate skin of your throat, and with the taste and scent and touch of him filling your senses after a long two weeks apart. It felt like there was nothing in the world but him, nothing but the scent of cinnamon and copper and salt, the warmth of it so rich you couldn’t help but gasp with it as he herded you backwards until at last, you both found the bed. 

The world lurched, and just like that you were pinned beneath him, the broad, heavy weight of him easily trapping you against the mattress, not that you minded. Your ragged moan of his name seemed to hang in the air, your fingers still tangled in his hair. God, your cunt was practically dripping already as you lifted your hips, trying to rock up against him in invitation. You'd been thinking of this the entire time you'd showered. He had to have sensed it. “Matt, sweetheart, please.” “I’ve been thinking about this since you left,” he purred in your ear, his breath a rush of burning embers before he started down your body. The moment he reached your bare breasts, he pressed his face between them, the rasp of his beard making you shiver. He inhaled deeply, dragging your scent deep into his lungs. That inhale led to a hitched, delighted moan, his hips rocking down against the mattress. Without warning, he turned his head and eagerly drew one of your nipples into his mouth. The greedy suction of his mouth when paired with the bristling scratch of his facial hair made you whine, writhing as best you could where you were trapped beneath the heavy weight of muscle and bone. But despite the way you offered up your chest in invitation, he had other plans, quickly releasing your breast to slide further down your body. His voice dropped into something low and sinful, then, soft as silk against your skin. “And I’ve missed this sweet pussy of yours, sweetheart.” He placed a tender, innocent kiss against your hip, the gentle nature of it at direct odds with the obscenity of his words. It was a combination that left you burning up, your breath hitching as he pointedly lifted one of your legs to drape it easily over his shoulder. He directed his blank gaze back up towards your own, his lips curling up into a feral grin. “So I’m going to see how many times I can make you come with my mouth tonight. And I’m not stopping until you’ve soaked everything underneath you.” 

Oh god—

Your eager moan and the fresh flood of arousal between your legs was the only answer he needed. He let out a quiet hiss before diving in, his tongue burying itself between your folds for one heavy lap up your cunt, the first taste of you he’d had in weeks. And with a rough moan that matched yours in volume, he threw one arm over your hips, and settled in.

And there he stayed, his face buried between your thighs, for hours. 

You lost track of your orgasms after you came for the third time, three of his fingers hilted deep inside you, his tongue lapping firmly, determinedly at your clit. It had been impossible to resist between that and the rhythmic,  rough scrape of his beard against the inside of your thighs—a sweet-edged pain you were quickly growing addicted to. You came so hard you saw spots at the edge of your vision, came so hard you left a puddle on the towel beneath you, your startled cry loud enough to wake the neighbors. Your brain didn’t even know what to do with that kind of pleasure, your thighs snapping shut around his head, your whole body writhing as the pleasure washed over you in uneven waves.

But Matt didn’t so much as slow. If anything, he simply opened his mouth wider, drank from you even faster, swallowing down that flood as if you were the sweetest of wines. The moment he tasted your orgasm, one that drenched his beard and mouth, his eyes snapped shut, his hips bucking against the mattress. A wild, shaky moan tore from his throat as he came with you, soaking his sweats, the rhythm of his mouth growing clumsy and uneven.

Yet still, he didn’t stop, despite the fact you'd both come. All it took was a few breaths before he was back at it. He seemed almost mindless now, focused only on taking, greedy and insatiable as he forced your body and his to start the climb yet again.

You lost control over your body not long after, your reactions instinctive and uncoordinated. Somehow you found your hands back in his hair, soft, sweat-soaked strands sliding through your fingers. You weren’t sure what you meant to do then, whether you wanted to push him away from your overstimulated body or pull him in even closer, ride his face the way you wanted. Either way, he wound up deciding for you. 

“Seems to me like someone can’t control herself.” He braced one hand firmly against your abdomen, and though he couldn’t see you, you still felt pinned by his gaze and the almost drunken little quirk of his lips. Even in the low light, you could see how his beard and mouth glistened, slick with the taste of you. “Do you need the rope, sweetheart? Do you want me to help you?” 

There wasn’t a chance in the world of you remaining still without that rope, not if he intended to keep going. And you both knew it. 

“Yes, please,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed as he clumsily rose from his place between your legs. Despite the lingering oversensitivity in your body, the sudden absence of his mouth still made you whimper. You just—you needed more, the promise of it keeping the tide of your arousal from fully easing.  

“What a good girl, admitting you need help,” he crooned, crawling up the bed far enough to reach the nightstand, pausing only to brush his lips against yours, the scent of your sex clinging heavily to his beard and mouth. He opened the drawer and dug around for a moment, until he finally drew free a length of red silk rope, testing it out in his hand. Once he was satisfied, he began to loop the rope around your wrists. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure you can’t move. Because I meant what I said. I’m not letting you up until I’m finished with you, and I’m nowhere near done, sweetheart.” 

The moment your wrists were properly tied, he placed his knees on either side of you, rising up to hook the length of rope to the hook set into the wall. But that put something else within reach of your mouth, and all the grinding he’d done against the bed had managed to drag his soaked sweats down just far enough to expose his cock. He was already half-hard again, the head slick and dripping, flushed dark and tempting. 

In that moment, you needed to taste it. 

The noise he made as you darted your head forward and took the tip of him into your mouth was inhuman, one part choked gasp and one part snarl. You suckled at the broad head eagerly, rapid little licks of your tongue against his slit to draw out more of the precum leaking steadily into your mouth, trying to get as much as you could before he could stop you. He wound up hunched over the top of you, one hand braced against the wall, the other fisted in your hair to hold you against him. And the harder you sucked, the more his rough growls and snarls shifted into high moans and soft little whines, his hips bucking instinctively, helplessly forward, pressing his cock deeper into the warm, welcoming wet heat of your mouth. Even those powerful thighs of his started to shake.

If you did this right, he’d come in no time at all. 

But it was the creak of the ropes as you instinctively reached for him that seemed to snap him out of it. 

Just like that, your head was wrenched back by his hand in your hair, his cock sliding free from your lips with a wet pop, saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth, and down onto your chest as you stared blearily up at him. Chest heaving, dark eyes burning, he slowly leaned down until his lips hovered mere millimeters from yours. But even though his lips hadn’t made contact, his beard did, the faintest brush of bristling hairs tickling against your overheated skin until you couldn’t help but moan. 

“And this,” he grit out, “is why you’re being tied: because you can’t keep your hands or your mouth to yourself.”  

“I’m sorry,” you whined, trying to nuzzle at him in apology. He dodged your mouth, his hand tightening in your hair in warning. This time, at least, you listened, rolling your head back into his touch, trying to make up for what you’d done, submit like he wanted. “I’m sorry, Matt. I just wanted a taste, I needed you so bad.” 

“If you’d asked like a good girl, maybe I’d have given it to you. Now you’re going to have to make it up to me.” He abruptly let go of your hair, climbing back down your body, ignoring the way you thrashed and twisted. Once he was back in place, he roughly shoved your thighs apart, dropping back down between your legs like he belonged there, claiming that space for himself. “Do I need to beg?” you choked out, practically shaking when he caught the thin, delicate skin of your inner thigh between his teeth, sucking hard. He lingered there for a long moment as you moaned and yanked desperately on the ropes, but it was no use. He was in control, not you, and you knew he wouldn’t let go until he’d left his mark, claiming this part of your body that belonged to only him. But what you weren’t expecting was for him to let go… and then tip his head, sliding his cheek, and his beard along the newly sensitive skin. The burn of it sent you soaring, your cunt clenching around nothing, your back arching as you tried to offer your core up to his mouth. “I’ll beg! God, I will, Matt, just—” “I don’t need you to beg,” he growled, his lips curling until he’d bared his teeth. “I need you to scream.” 

Then his mouth latched onto your cunt again, relentless and inescapable no matter how much you writhed. It was torture, madness of the best kind, and it wasn’t long before something in your mind began to unravel, drawn right down out of your body and into his mouth to be swallowed down the Devil's greedy throat.

Things… got a little blurry after that. 

There was no tracking the time, not when one orgasm melded into the next, minutes and hours falling away beneath the merciless lap of Matt’s skilled tongue, the brutal curl of his thick fingers, the rough scrape of his beard against your thighs and cunt until everything burned with pleasure and pain that turned the edges of your vision a fractured white. There was no outside world, no thought left in your mind but his name, nothing but the mountains he dragged your increasingly exhausted body up, and the swift fall when he mercilessly shoved you over the edge, over and over and over until you were ready to lose your mind.

“Matt!” you sobbed, wrenching hard at the ropes binding your wrists. It didn’t make one bit of difference, the rope firm and unyielding where you were bound. Down between your legs, Matt slurped hungrily, drunkenly at your cunt, his face and throat drenched with your slick, a wide puddle on the towel beneath the place where his mouth connected to your body. The burn of his beard was almost unbearable now, but you didn’t know what to do about it. You weren’t even sure he could hear you at this point, his eyes glazed over and glassy, the broad laps at your slit and clit so instinctive and clumsy that you were half convinced he was lost in the same place you were, drunk off the taste of your pussy, off your repeated orgasms and pheromones that he’d been drenched in. 

Another finger joined the three he already had buried deep inside you. He’d been at this so long that your body parted for him with little issue, and god, god, you were so goddamn full, so trapped in the haze that all you could do was choke out another sob as all four of his fingertips rubbed firmly at that spot inside you. You were too tired even to close your legs around his head, but you could feel it—that final orgasm curling hot and inescapable inside you, so close now you could taste the fractured shards of it, tears streaming down your cheeks as your eyes snapped shut.  

“I think maybe you earned that taste you wanted,” he slurred, kissing lovingly at your clit like he might a lover, his lips parted just far enough to let his tongue brush against you. And god, it almost hurt, it hurt, your body so far beyond oversensitivity that even that light touch hit you like a bolt of lightning, your body jolting. “Not that you can answer me now. Or can you?”

All you could give him was a mindless whine. 

He chuckled, working his free hand down beneath himself as he lifted his hips. His mouth dropped open a moment later, face going slack against your cunt before he moaned loudly, his shoulder shifting rhythmically beneath your thigh, his eyes rolling shut. Was he—

He drew his hand up a moment later with a purr, his fingers now smeared and sticky with both your wetness and his, glistening softly in the low light. “What do you say, sweetheart? Would you like a taste? Because I would.”

You whimpered, tugging mindlessly at the ropes, and you—yes, yes, but your tongue couldn’t seem to quite form the word yes, because he still had the fingers of his other hand buried inside you, rubbing steadily at the spot that made you see stars. God, please, the mere thought of tasting your combined flavors on your tongue had you almost mad, your body a hairs-breadth away from coming. All you needed was a nudge—a brush of him at your clit, the taste of him on your tongue, and you’d tip over the edge. 

He clearly knew it, too. And you thought-you’d thought he would be offering his hand as he dipped back down to your cunt, but instead, he pulled his soaked fingers free from you with a sigh. Your cry was a broken thing, something thick with grief at feeling so empty when you were so close, more tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Shh, you’re alright, sweetheart, don't cry,” he crooned gently, hushing you as he crawled up over your body, nuzzling at your sweat-soaked skin. “Don’t worry. It’s only for a second. I won’t leave you empty. I promise. Almost done. Almost there. One more for me. You’re going to give me one more, honey.” But how, when you were so empty, when you didn’t have his mouth or his fingers, lost and—

He groaned as he began to slide his thick cock inside you. You’d been stretched so open by his fingers, by all of your orgasms over the past few hours, that he entered you with a delicious ease. The sloppy, wet squelch of his cock as he slid inside you would have made your cheeks burn if you’d had any sense left. 

“Shit,” he moaned, one hand braced beside your head, fisting in the sheets. One rock of his hips and he was buried as deep as he could reach, your cunt clenching around him as if it were trying to keep him there. You were too exhausted to lift your legs and lock them around his hips. All you could do was gasp and accept him, your eyes rolled back as you hovered on the edge. “Nn, there you go, sweetheart. There we go. Nice and-and full. Hold on just a little longer for me. Open your mouth, honey.” 

You parted your lips instantly, long past resisting, long past thinking. 

His fingers stroked gently against your tongue a moment later, allowing you to take in the combined musky taste of yourself, the bitter richness of his cock, and how it mingled and melded with the taste of his skin.

“Suck for me like a good girl,” he murmured, his other hand rising to wipe away a few of your tears. Once that was done, he settled his hand around your throat, as if he wanted to feel it when you swallowed. “Go on, sweetheart. You can have it.” 

You curled your tongue around his fingers, drawing them deep into your mouth with a grateful moan. The explosion of it across your tongue as you swallowed, the sheer obscenity of it, made you choke out a broken cry. His fingers were yanked back a moment later only to be replaced by his tongue snaking lazily into your open mouth, blatantly chasing your paired tastes with a filthy moan. All of it rolled up over you at once—his cock sliding up against that spot inside you, the whisper of pressure around your throat as his massive hand closed around it, the angle of his hips that let his body grind against your clit, the paired taste of you both filling your mouth as his tongue curled against yours, but… 

It was the harsh scrape of his beard against your skin that pushed you over the edge. 

Later, you wouldn’t remember the noise you made as you came, your body seizing as your orgasm slammed into you in one sudden rush. Your body went rigid, back bowing off the bed so sharply you felt something pop, your head thrown back as you lost yourself beneath a roaring tide of pleasure. Because this-this wasn’t something you rode, something you swam with, something that swept over you gently. This was something you survived, something you choked beneath, drowned beneath. You barely heard Matt’s shout, didn’t even notice the spreading heat as he came with you in slick pulses of warmth. You heard even less his slurred words of encouragement against your lips as your orgasm lingered in waves that just didn’t end, and you couldn't, you couldn't—

“There you go. Good girl, good girl, so good for me, let it all go sweetheart, I’ve got you, good gi—”

You weren’t quite sure where your mind went, then. But things cut out for a while.

How long you tapped out for was a mystery, the world around you faded into a soft black. All you knew was that when you finally floated back up from that quiet sea, your senses coming back to you one by one, Matt was there, your limp body cradled warmly against his chest. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, the sounds distant and still a little warped as he rocked you gently. He had to have untied you at some point, you thought blearily, since he was holding you now, his back against the headboard, your head tucked down against his neck. “Come on back, honey. Time to come back for me.”

You made a soft little noise of acknowledgement in your throat, all you really felt capable of at the moment, your eyes fluttering half open.  

“Hi there, sweetheart,” he hummed, nuzzling down warmly against your hair. One of his hands swept steadily up and down your arm, sensation that helped ground you, along with the easy rhythm of his breathing as he held you, the rasp of his skin against yours. “There you are, my good girl. You did so good, honey. Now you’ve got it. Take it slow. Breathe with me."

“Mmm.”

"That works." He huffed a quiet laugh, tipping your slack head back until he could brush his lips against your forehead. Your head lolled against his shoulder, your body feeling a bit like all your bones had just up and wandered off. Maybe Matt had sucked them out of you. “I got eight out of you tonight if you can believe it. A new record.”

“It’s,” you slurred thickly, “the… beard. I love it.” 

“I figured. And now I'm definitely going to keep it.” He nuzzled at you again, lifting one of your hands so he could knead gently at your wrist where you’d been tied. You'd probably have some bruises tomorrow considering how hard you'd yanked at the ties, but you'd wear them with pride. You always did. “And now you get the full aftercare treatment. Water, a snack, maybe a massage and a lot of cuddling before you fall asleep. I almost thought about drawing you a bath, but I’m not quite sure I trust you not to accidentally slide down into the water right now, even with me holding you.”

“...Fair.” You sleepily mashed your face against his throat, drawing the musky scent of sex and his skin deep into your lungs. You were still floating to a certain extent, your body sore and exhausted, but the comfort of his touch, the low rumble of his voice went a long way to soothing you. “Love you. Missed you.” 

“I love you and missed you, too.” He pressed a fond kiss to your wrist, letting out a contented sigh. “Let’s avoid being apart for a while.”

“Agreed.” 

[whirlybirbs]

my life and limb for you to write something for shota aizawa 🙏 pls and thank you

SHOUTA AIZAWA swears you'll be the death of him.

After all, you're so fucking gorgeous like this with your legs spread and your body bare — he watches with one very greedy eye as your back arches and your hands wind themselves tighter into his bed sheets. You're babbling his name, gasping out curses and whimpers and pleads.

Shouta likes taking his time.

He's a bastard, sure. He knows that. Sometimes, when you prop yourself up on your elbows and stare down at him between your legs, he wonders what the fuck he ever did to deserve you.

Rough hands are gentle as he pushes your thighs a little farther apart; the heat of his mouth disappears and you nearly cry — but the rough timbre of his voice floods you with a new wave of arousal.

"You're so gorgeous like this, kitten," he murmurs, a crooked finger dipping deeper to the knuckle, "All soft and wet for me."

Kitten. Sonofabitch—

Shouta Aizawa is going to be the death of you.

— [ send an ask: birbs' smut blurbs ; minors dni ]

[nekrosdolly]

this is based on nothing in particular but i think vergil would eat you out more eagerly while you're on your period.

cw; afab sub reader, dom vergil, pussydrunk vergil, blood drinking, very brief pussy sniffing, cunnilingus, reader is written to have pretty gnarly periods, somewhat soft vergil to start.

blood has never tasted so good, flowing steadily from your sweet cunt in ichor streams and into his mouth. while he's never been fond of getting blood on his clothing from demons, or perhaps having it stain his coat (god forbid it taint yamato), this is different. you needed him and he wanted you all the same.

your periods aren't usually so bad, but it seemed to be getting worse. especially this month- it had to have been the worst yet. vergil had gone out of his way to make sure you were beyond comfortable, hardly allowing you to leave his bed- yes, his bed, not your own. he didn't want you to be suffering without him there to support you. the blue twin was uncharacteristically doting for the entire week. while he wasn't a fan of physical affection, he kept snuggling up to you in hopes that the inhumane temperature his body keeps would be enough to dissuade your horrific cramps.

he fed you when asked, made you plenty of tea that was supposed to help, and kept a good distance when you got cranky. the last thing he needed was you, pissed off at him for trying to help. though he wouldn't blame you by any means- he was suffocating you. within good reason, of course.

vergil had brought your immense pain up to trish and lady as inconspicuously as he could as a means of asking for help. what could he do to lessen your suffering?

"give her head," trish's voice is blunt. lady nods in agreement from her spot beside the tall, blonde woman.

"orgasms make periods shorter and less painful. we would know."

you're in bed, lying on your side with a heating pad tucked to your lower abdomen. your cramps were lessened thanks to vergil's efforts (the heating pad, some tea, and food,) but not quite gone. you're wearing one of his shirts and some very loose shorts made for sleeping when vergil walks in, and he all but pounces on you. it's embarrassing, how quickly he gets a semi just from looking at you in his clothing, in his bed, smiling at him.

sharing blood is intimate, right?

you're so sweet, looking over your shoulder at him with a little smile and meager wave.

"hi, verg," you hum politely as he shrugs off his coat and sets on the coatrack hanging on the back of his door. he settles on the edge of his bed to unbuckle each strap on his ridiculous boots.

"how are you feeling?" you turn onto your back to watch him undress, gloved fingers undoing the complicated buttons on his shirt, then unzipping it. underneath lies a black tank top and like a victorian man, you swoon at the sight of his collarbones.

"um, still a little crampy, but fine," he nods once, peeking over his shoulder at you. his fists clench, then relax.

"would you like my assistance?" he stands, peeling off his grossly hot, sticky leather pants that you love because they "hug his ass." you shake your head softly, closing your eyes as another cramp storms your uterus.

"you've done enough, verg, i'm alright-" a sudden weight over you cuts you off, feeling the bed shift beside your head and hips. when you open your eyes, your dear half-devil is on top of you and damn-near purring. his hair is starting to break free from its slicked-back state, a few strands falling over his face. he looks hungry, his powder blue eyes dark and murky.

"let me help," he rasps, one leg shifting in between yours dangerously close to your cunt, "allow me."

never a patient man, he fights himself to be calm as you ponder your answer. period sex has always struck you as gross. besides, nobody wants to fuck someone while they're literally excreting blood and chunks of flesh- or so you think. the minute you nod, he's pulling your shorts off, your underwear (and subsequently, your pad,) slipping down with them.

at first, you expect him to pull his boxers down, but your eyes widen at the sight of him slithering between your legs so he's face-to-face with your bleeding cunt. he's perverted in his own special way, closing his eyes briefly as he sniffs your blood-slickened folds, making you squirm. you open your mouth in hopes of telling him to quit being weird, but he beats you to the punch when he licks a stripe up your seam, thus drawing a moan from you instead.

blood has never been so sweet. mixed with the taste of you, he's in heaven. your legs hook over his shoulders upon his guidance, his tongue delving into your leaking entrance to taste more and more gore. plush thighs hug the sides of his head, making him hiss quietly as he forces them to part. red coats his chin, nose, and lips as he eagerly fucks you with his tongue, nails digging into your skin. drowned out beneath your noises of pleasure, soft noises of his own bubble in his throat.

you should've put a towel down, an afterthought that strikes you as he withdraws his tongue from your fluttering walls to lap at your clit with hunger only a vampire might have after tasting blood. your back arches, a cry leaving you when he sucks at your pulsing clit. he'd never say it aloud, but he loves getting you off. seeing you in such a pretty state, spread out or pressed against him, moaning until your throat was raw and tears spilled from your eyes all because of him- his tongue, his fingers, his dick, whatever it may be.

to vergil's disappointment, blood continues to seep out of you and onto the bedsheets instead of in his mouth, so he suckles on your clit until he's sure you're close before rubbing it with his thumb eagerly, forcing his tongue inside your cavern yet again. he growls into your cunt at the taste again, his mind hazy with the need to keep drinking you in. he can taste your arousal mixing with crimson, fueling him to keep going. the now sharp-ish tip of his tongue prods at your spongy g-spot, a pleased purr emitting from his chest at the way you're crying out for him to continue.

the hands on your hips gain a rough quality, his once-dull nails pricking into the soft skin of your thighs and dear god, his tongue- ribbed down the sides and pointed at the very end- fucks you masterfully.

"vergil," you reach down to take his hand, your climax fast approaching, only to find a scaly mass where his human hand once was. a quick glance downwards tells you all you need to know: he's triggering, albeit only halfway. sharp, glowing blue eyes meet yours and it's like he knows you're going to cum, your tight walls squeezing his tongue like they would his cock.

"i-i love you," you whine, a sound that falls short in comparison to the volume of the slurping and squelching filling the air. your hands grasping for something to hold onto as your climax fast approaches. your lover takes your hand in his clawed one with a soft grip. your head falls back against the pillow, squirming against his mouth. he purrs, nose nuzzling into your puffy clit. the vibrations send you tumbling over the edge.

with a cry, you cum hard on his tongue. he laps up your release and blood combined, a soft moan leaving him as he tastes you so sweetly. fire lights your veins, white-hot and all-consuming as he tongue-fucks you through your heady high, thighs shaking under his rough hands. he doesn't stop, burying himself in you until you're whining, pleading for him to stop with crystalline tears that he wants to lick away. with a soft tug to his hair, you pull him off and he allows you. but not before pressing a kiss on your overworked clit.

standing from between your legs, ichor coats his face from the nose-down. it's dripping from his chin down his neck, soaking into the collar of his tank top. it's enough to make you squirm under his gaze and pull your shirt down to cover yourself. red-stained (human) tongue pokes from between his lips to lap at the blood left on them, pale blue eyes boring into your own.

"...i'm going to get a tampon in," you mutter, getting out of bed on shaky legs and meandering to his en-suite bathroom. luckily, he's kept a small stash of period products for you ever since you started dating.

in the wake of your absence, his eyes travel to the tempting bloodstain on his bed. he has half a mind to lean down and nuzzle his face into it, perhaps try to suck the crimson from the stain in order to taste you again. he doesn't. instead, he waits by the bathroom door for you to finish so he can wash himself of your fluids, albeit reluctantly.

-

in the end, when he's holding your unconscious body against his in a tight manner, soft snores falling from your lips, he presses a ghost of a kiss on the shell of your ear.

"i love you," the sound of his voice is lost with the wind blowing through the cracked window, just how he would like it to be.

[ayekittyk4t]

pollinate

pairing: plug eren x afab reader

desc: you always make decision with eren that are on a whim. whether it’s him taking you to get a tattoo or him filming you, it’s never a normal routine.

content warning: established relationship, tattoos, needles, petnames ( princess, baby, etc…), a little dry humping, filming, oral sex (male receiving), hair pulling, spit, one slap on da face, lmk if i’m missing any lol

an: y’all this a lil rusty but it’s okay i guess. i had to oil up this rusty ol machine, but i hope y’all enjoy. more plug eren and reader to come. even tho this really didn’t have anything to do with him being a plug. it’s just part of the series/ collections idk. take it as you will.

sometimes, you think about some decisions you’ve made and wonder how stupid they were. you’d lay there, dealing with the consequences of your actions and repeating what may have been the alternative route. all the what if’s that would’ve been your reality. however, now that you’ve made that decision, all you could do was think about such things. and at this very moment in time, you’re laying with a very permanent decision.

eren had said you’re a baby for whining. but he had plenty of tattoos in various places, so his word didn’t matter to you. you do suppose that this was your decision after all, so you sit with the pain with your eyes screwed shut. that is what you were repeating in your head as you fought through the last few minutes of your tattoo session.

a lotus flower. eren had once said you were his lotus flower. you had no idea what if meant, but it had stuck with you. he said that you were a beautiful lotus flower on a bright green lily pad, sitting on calm water. he’d say this to you once in a while. and on whim, you decided to get it tattooed on you tonight. right on your sternum.

what a bad decision, because you were in a lot a fucking pain.

“awe, my princess is a little weak.” eren teased, petting your head to calm you down. you opened your eyes, squinting from the bright tattoo studio lights and looked at him with annoyance. from where you were laying and where he was behind you, his big smile almost looked like a frown. you know eren all too well though, he’d never frown in your pain. more so smile in a peculiar pleasure.

the constant puncturing of the small needles in your skin had been a pain. along with the buzzing of the tattoo gun. your head began to throb, so you shut your eyes. eren noticed, seeing how your jaw clenched and the way you swallowed hard. and despite finding a freakish pleasure in your pain, his heart tinged with pain of his own. with that, he moved his fingers to your temples and started messaging them. instantly, you felt calm.

“you’ll be fine, (y/n).” he says low and smoothly.

“yea, because you done.” mikasa said excitedly as she turned off the machine.

you opened your eyes to be directly looking into erens. he smiled big, his canines peeking through. his hands then fall to the side and you’re already missing his touch.

the table you’ve now laid on for god knows how long begins to fuel your discomfort. you wiggle around a bit, lifting you hips to stretch. mikasa let’s you know to stay put as she cleans you up and applies the second skin to avoid any infections.

“you’re all done.” she exclaims with a big smile as she clasps her hands together in excitement.

upon those words, you sit up, zipping your sweater up just enough to leave some room to look at the lotus in the mirror. feeling somewhat lightheaded, you stumble a bit as you hop off the table. eren grabs a hold of your arm, saving you from a fall and hold you close to him. looking up at him, you smile as he leads you to the mirror.

standing in front of the mirror, you inspect the permanent flower on your body. mikasa captured you vision well, and you were so happy about it.

“you look beautiful, baby.” eren says, standing behind you. you smile to him in approval through the reflection of the mirror.

-

the candlelight flickered, soothing your heavy eyes to shut and fall to sleep. you’re tired, using eren chest as a pillow. you listened to his heartbeat and inhaled his scent. it soothed you even more.

then you do it again, inhaling louder. your stomach caves in from how deep you took in erens scent. holding your breath for a bit, you breathe out with a low hum.

“what are you doing?” he chuckles, looking down at where your head rested.

you shoot up, lifting yourself from your comfort, “i’m addicted to the way you smell.”

“you’re fucking insane.”

rolling your eyes, you sit up. unzipping your sweater to take a look at the new ink on your skin. you couldn’t stop looking at it. admiring it. showing it off every few minutes. you felt tough. this pain was nothing, you thought. you could get a ton of tattoos now.

“will you take a picture for me?” you say suddenly, looking at him with doe like eyes. maybe part of you knew eren wouldn’t want to due to the placement of the tattoo. but you’d thought it’d be different since you’ve been dating for a while, and he always took pictures of you.

he was your personal photographer after all.

eren squints his eyes at you, his tongue poking at his cheek, “why?”

“because i want to post it.”

“for who?”

your mouth drops, and you match his judging gaze, “for all the other men who want me besides you.” the attitude is apparent in your tone as you rolled your eyes dramatically.

“watch your tone.” he’s no longer squinting his eyes, his brows are now furrowed and he spoke with a slight irritation in his voice.

“for me. who else?” you poke his forehead, and eren shoos you hand away.

you catch onto his attitude, realizing he’s not playing around anymore. it wasn’t a joke to him. he was somewhat a bit upset at you. this always happened. eren is short tempered, but you’re patient for him. all you could roll your eyes, again, and move on with your night.

“fine,” you sit up, grabbing your phone off the side table by your bed. “i’ll take if myself-”

just as you were about to get off your bed, eren wraps his arms around you and pulls you onto him.

“hey,” you scramble a bit and get up, acting as if this wasn’t a normal occurrence with eren. but it was.

“don’t worry about it, baby. i’ll take them for you.” he grabs a hold to your phone in your hand, his other hand gripping to your waist and squeezing.

you frown at him, “i’m sorry. c’mon, let me take those picture for you.” he’s sitting up, resting his back again the headboard. you squeeze your thighs around him, trying not to tip over.

“you sure?”

“yes.” he said lowly, his eyes shifting from yours to your body. your cheeks heat up once he looks at you. no matter how long you’ve been with eren, you never stop to get nervous around him.

you feel his hands inch up and down, thumbs pressing circles into your stomach. he looks back into your eyes, and you blink like the flustered girl you were. he begins to unzip your sweater, covering you just enough so your chest wasn’t showing. eren pushes the sweater a little off your shoulders and you shift you hips a bit. you feel him harden below you.

with the phone still in hand, eren unlocks your phone to take a photo.

you straighten up, arch your back and lift your hips a little. click. he take the photo. resting back down into erens lap, you whimper as his hard on makes contact with your clit. he groans quietly, lifting his hips to hit that spot again.

“no, one more picture. i want a a lot to choose from.” your placing your hands on his stomach, pushing him into the bed and leaning forward. click.

“smile.” he laughs a little, watching you blush once again and snaps more pictures.

“take nice ones, eren.”

“i am, baby.” he shifts your phone to your face and you hear your phone ding, letting you know your being recorded.

“hey!” you whine, pushing the phone, “stop playing.”

“i’m getting impatient, princess.” he groans, eyes shifting to his hard cock. “you keep teasing me.”

erens tone gets a bit whiny. though, you should be slightly annoyed, you fun pleasure in this. the way his gaze on you is now hungry, but you’re in control. and the way he groans when you rub yourself on him and he’s thrusting up for more.

you’re stomach bubbled in anticipation. you wanted to keep going for your own pleasure, but something about seeing eren whine and beg for it excited you. you felt your cunt throb. this would be new.

dropping the sweater off your shoulders, you expose your tits to him, nipples hardening from the cool breeze of the night. he reaches out to squeeze your tit, grab his hand and place it back to your hip. the phone still in his hand recording.

“c’mon, princess. let me touch you.” he whines, lips quivering.

you smile, not saying a word but instead rocking your hips against eren. dragging your clothed cunt against his cock foward feverishly, and moving back slowly. you continue this for a while, fast then slow. teasing eren and yourself. letting out soft whimpers while doing so.

then, you stop. you lift your lips away from eren and all his pleasure is gone. he thrust his hips in the air trying to find satisfaction in that. but it’s useless.

looking at eren, you see he’s holding the phone to the sealing. reaching out, you adjust it just enough so you’d be in the view. you lower yourself on the bed, hooking your dainty fingers on the waist band of his pajama pants and pulling them down. as your free his cock, he groans as it slaps against his stomach. you shove two fingers in your mouth, letting spit drip down them to moisten his length. thick and long, his tip leaking precum. you spread your spit around the tip, wrapping your hands around him and stroking. with your free hand you, play with his balls.

“fuckin-”

eren is cut off as he feels your wet tongue drag along the length of his cock. you swirl your tongue on the tip before wrapping your plump lips around it, then he feels the warmth of you mouth take the entirety of his cock. slowly, teasingly, he feels you inch down to the base. your nose shoved up against him. you look at him and hallow your cheeks.

he looks down at you, and moans lewdly. teeth grinding, sucking in deep breaths, brows furrowed and cheeks blushing. the grip on your phone he has as tight, the white of his knuckles peeped through.

he huffed and frowned. your hair was covering your perfect face. with his free hand, he moved the hair out of your face, wrapping his hands enough to tug you back a bit. you let his cock slip out of your mouth, a sting of saliva connected you to him drips down your chin.

“don’t drop the goddamn phone.” you spat out, more salivia slipping past your mouth. you lick your lips and swallow hard.

god, you’re so fuckin’ messy.

“never, baby.” he rasps, tugging on your hair once again. you moan at that. it hurt so good that you felt slick drip from your cunt.

at that, you spit again on him, taking him back in your mouth. he hits the back of your throat and it stings, but it brings you bliss. shutting your eyes, you bob your head against him, sucking hard once you get to his tip. your fast, no longer teasing him. you had a goal and that was for him to spill inside you.

your hands moved at the same speed as your mouth. filled with your spit and his own precum, the slick just added to his pleasure. eren loved your messiness when you sucked his cock.

“so fucking good, princess.” eren says through his teeth.

you look at him, his hair dishealved and almost out of its tight little bun. he’s so close. his chest is rising and falling, and his breath is shaky. you only speed up noticing this, looking him in the eyes. taking him in fast, hallowing your cheeks harder and adding more pressure on tongue as you reach his cockhead.

“ah fuck-, fuck baby.” he thrusting his hips into you mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat. you gag, but inhale deeply through your nose and continue to reach your goal.

and in seconds a thick, warmth fills your mouth. eren groans loudly thrusting his hips so you get every last drop of his cum in your mouth. that salty, thick liquid coats your mouth. you release his cock from your mouth, pursing your lips together and swallowing hard. he’s a mess, chest rising and falling. you and him are warn down, but you take it into you hands to clean him up.

you lick your spit off the length of his cock and take his tip in your mouth on last time. you suck hard, releasing it with a pop. eren looks at you with a lust filled gaze.

“let me see.” he’s referring to his cum. he wanted you to take it all. eren releases his hand from your hair and grips onto your chin. he squeezes your cheeks and moves the phone to record the inside of your mouth. you stick your tongue out to prove you swallowed it all.

“good fuckin’ girl.” he gives you a small smack on your cheek in approval.

“now show the camera your pretty little tattoo.”

you listen quickly, sitting up above eren. the bed squeaks from your quick movements. you feel the slick between your legs drip down your thighs. eren moved the camera back onto your chest, he’s running a hand up to your chest and squeezes your tit. you didn’t care if he was touching you now. his touch ignited something in you. it always did. either way, you broke him down just a bit. at least for today.

“that’s my slutty princess.”

[jayazillie]

So....this is part 2! I hope you guys like it. Thank you to everyone who liked and commented on part 1, it really means a lot to me. Um so...yeah, Stan now has a prosthetic leg...and I went with the headcannon that a lot of people have that his dentures are from chewing his way out of Rico's car. He's really having a rough time right now... it'll get better, I promise! Thank you guys!

Part 1 is linked here. If anybody can tell me how to link it so it's like an url that only says part 1 (I've seen some people do it, I think it's possible?) that would be greatly appreciated. Have a great day y'all.

[kit-williams]

The Lamenters are a chapter plagued by luck so horrible it feels as if they’ve been personally cursed by the universe, which, this being 40k is a distinct possibility.

So one of the few highlights they have is when they quench their thirst monthly with their female serfs. Being able to freely take blood and not harm their human charges being a discovery they were happy to make.

The mix of blood and shedded lining from these monthly feedings goes a long way in slaking their bloodlust, even more so then regular blood. But it’s the combination of that shedded lining, the blood, and the slick that usually results from them stimulating their poor serfs when they lap up their blood that really scratches an itch. The combination just sets something off in their brains and which makes them crave the taste more and more.

Subsequently this causes them to overstimulate their serfs when they slake their thirst, tongues send their poor serfs into spirals of pleasurable sensation. They always end up having to soothe their serfs during this period, as they babble about how it to much stimulation and how they can’t take much more of the pleasure.

But surely they can take it, they argue back. Surely they can indulge there beleaguered masters in this one request and put up with the persistent pleasure they feel. The Lamenters have so few good things going for them, so surely their serfs won’t deny them this one request

Something nice and simple and pussy eating like champions

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

"Piero please no more." The serf shrieked as the lamenter in fact did not let up his face buried in deep lapping up the arousal mixed with blood.

Lemartes held onto the serf's arms as Piero was busy between their legs. Lemartes panting as his chin was covered in drying blood. The shame would come tomorrow... the serfs would be compensated for this... but they also knew many of them would come back the next day until their bleeding cycle ended... and many would still return when it started up again.

The Serf being eaten out by Piero was weeping as the Lamenter's tongue was attacking the button again and again trying to cause one more orgasm and were rewarded as the poor serf squirted on his chin and like a pleased dog the Lamenter cleaned her up. She practically collapsed into a wimpering pleasured mess like most of the other serfs in the room.

Another brother... an Apothecarian lazily lapped up from his assistant whom wasn't expecting to start her cycle for another week but it came early distracting the Brother Apothecarian from his duty to monitor.

Piero lifted his head as his chin was dripping and he let out a contented sigh as Lemartes just grinned at him. "Nice to see you didn't suffocate in your goal Piero."

"Told you I could do it." Piero takes control of his breathing quickly.

"You two are going to be the death of some poor serf." The Veteran Apothecarian grouses before returning to his assistant who just lets out a delicate mewl.

[whirlybirbs]

I am bowing and humbly asking for Aizawa and Enji, since you're taking requests 🤣

ENJI TODOROKI bites back a sound unbecoming of Japan's #1 Pro Hero.

It's muffled into the back of his palm, the flames of his beard licking eagerly at his flesh as the temperature in the room hikes another degree closer to sweltering. His jaw tightens, his teeth grit, and he does everything he can to keep himself from bucking his hips upwards into your mouth.

You can't help the pride that surges in your chest when he throws his head back and grips the arms of his desk chair so tight you swear you see singe marks.

"Don't— s-stop," he rumbles desperately; his head falling to his chest as you press your tongue to the underside of his cock's thick, swollen head. He watches with big, desperate turquoise eyes, "Please—"

Then, he graces you with gentlest touch to your cheek imaginable.

Intimacy is different now, just like him. He was never one to relish in the satiable dalliances of pleasure. For him, it was a means to an end. But, with you—

"Patience," you tsk, settling deeper on your knees and working open the top two buttons of your blouse; sweat has gathered along the column of your throat and clings to the hair along your temples. It's how you know Enji is close — the room gets a bit too hot.

"Please, my flame," his voice cracks as he begs. It's deep and warm, like a bonfire on a cold night, "I need you—"

"I'm having fun," you say, your hand settling around his length as you tilt your head and drag your mouth up his length again. It earns you another deep, baritone moan punctuated with a flare of heat from his body, "You know what fun is, don't you Endeavor?"

Enji Todoroki doesn't give a shit about fun.

Fuck fun. Fuck this. He wants to feel you.

He drags a rough palm down his face and exhales, nodding.

Sure. Fun.

— [ send an ask: birbs' smut blurbs ; minors dni ]

[sophiethewitch1]

How would each of the batboys react after doing the "forbidden tango" with their "sister"?

probably need to clear this up, but the weird not incest thing isn't going to be a central theme in this fic. Like it's there, but other than Dick and a very resigned Bruce everybody absolutely doesn't care. Also BIG spoiler here but

They will be finding out that you're not actually their version of 'you'. This will probably make Dick cry from relief. And by the time the smut does actually happen... they will have much bigger problems than the not a step sister thing.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Would Blanche let me give him head?

Tw: Well, blowjob, seggs, description of bullying, cum eating, violence

Short answer, Yes. Long answer:

You would have to win him over, though. He's ridiculously shy when it comes to anything outside platonic love and attraction. As charming as he is, Blanche actually never had anyone express genuine desire to bed him. He was by no means ugly, but his whimsy and quaintness made others label him as this unromancable, unfuckable weirdo.

Blanche is almost as if he has a built in magnet for bullies, the closest to a love confession that he got was when the people around him dared each other to ask him out, as a joke. It's funny to them because Blanche is not at all an eligible candidate as a bachelor. The idea of sleeping with him is humorous, hilarious, even. They weren't laughing anymore when all of them experienced the metallic taste of his brass knuckles driven deep into their skulls.

He experienced this treatment for the majority of his life, following him all the way to adulthood and even during his time living as a hermit in his cottage. They just can't fuck the old man and they kept tormenting him because of it.

He yearns to be the romantic gentleman he would see in love films, he yearns to be treated like someone valuable like a protagonist of a steamy romance novel. Alas, he was hurt and used for so long, that he blocked that longing out entirely from his mind, to save him from the unavoidable heartbreak. Unfortunately, even when he is expecting nothing, he still gets let down.

It's not a surprise that he's wary with the notion of romance and erotic attraction. It's already drilled into his being that he isn't desirable carnally. It's an automatic no to anyone who thinks it's a great idea to 'prank' him again.

But you... you're different. You're so special and so lovely to him. Bringing up the idea of sucking him off made Blanche freeze in place momentarily, letting all those horrible, horrible memories flood back in. However, he reminded himself that you wouldn't hurt him, you're his beloved friend. His only, one true friend. It should be okay, right?

He's apprehensive at first, but with enough patience and convincing, you could make him sit down at least. Blanche would drape his hair over the back of his chair, letting it pool on the floor. He would nervously bite on his thumb as you slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers.

Blanche felt like his heart is about to beat out of his chest, how could it not? The only person he loves is on their knees at his crotch level, offering to do something so dirty, something unthinkable. Yet so... intimate.

You would stop when you saw him crying, eyes red and wet. His eyebrows would be knitted together and his lower lip trembles in anticipation. Upon asking what's wrong, he would break out into a sob, covering his shameful face with his hands. He would grow hot and his ears would resemble hot embers, he is so, so ashamed.

"I-I'm sorry, my darling. I'm just- I'm Just... embarrassed." And it was too overwhelming for him to see a growing bulge on his crotch, he had never felt this vulnerable before. Not even after being called all kinds of derogatory slurs by hundreds of people in real life and online. This is a different type of humiliation that somewhat felt nice, because it was with you.

He would draw in the sharpest gasp and widen his beautiful, deep blue eyes when you took him in your mouth. Swirl your tongue around his length, let it touch the back of your soft and slimy throat and enjoy the delicious whines, whimpers and mewls that would escape his mouth.

His moans would be like music to your ears, it's so pathetic and needy. Blanche would have his fingers tangled within your hair, not to force you against his length, but to try and slow you. You would bob your head up and down, occasionally catching a glimpse of his messy, teary face. It almost seems like he's in excruciating pain, but whenever you stopped to ask him if he's hurting,

"No! N-no, not at all. It felt so good, I-I can't describe it. It felt so good..." Drool would drip down from the corner as he watched you with a daze. He would let out a cry when you went back to mouthing his throbbing cock, leaked with excess amounts of precum.

Blanche would convulse as if you passed electricity through him, his eyes would roll back into his skull as he's overcome by immense bouts of forbidden pleasure. His fingers would grow weaker and weaker, at one point even slipping off your head and dangling limply on his sides. More tears, mucus and drool would streak down his once clean and dignified face.

At his climax, his entire body would contract and Blanche would let the loudest, most lewd, most improper moan rip out from his vocals. His copious amounts of cum would take you by surprise as it fills you up to the brim, it's so powerful that some would come out of your nose if you didn't open your throat properly before blowing him.

It will take him half a minute to unload everything, making a mess all over your neck, chest and floor. It would almost look like the bedroom is flooding with semen, some even got soaked up by his curly hair nearby.

It will take another few seconds to recuperate, slowly snapping out of this euphoric bliss that he experienced for the first time in his lonely, lonely life. You would be wiping your eyes to remove the cum that temporarily blinded you.

"O-oh! I'm truly sorry, darling..." He would lean forward, cupping your cheeks and helping you clean your face up from decades of pent up frustration and desperate yearning. "I'm so sorry... oh, look at you. I'm terribly sorry for this..." He would frown, now being brought to tears due to guilt. He would be flicking as much of his semen away from your face. Blanche noticed that you're still holding quite a substantial amount between your tongue and teeth, he would bring a cupped hand next to your chin, expecting you to spit it out.

"My dear, don't-" He would be wide eyed when you decided the remaining load in your mouth, grinning happily and even showing that there is nothing in your mouth. Blanche could only dream to have the tomatoes growing in his garden to be as scarlet as his face right now.

Because of his clean diet, his jizz actually tasted... nice? It's mildly sweet and has a very mild smell to it. It's smooth, creamy and generally pleasant to eat.

"You..." He would be at a loss of words as he processed what you did. Upon realizing what the implications are, that you have a part of him inside you willingly, and in unimaginable amounts too... His cock would find a new burst of energy to spurt one last load of cum, soiling his trousers, chair and your face again.

He would then cry out apologies before hastily wiping away more spunk away from your already painted countenance.

You had to assure him that you're okay, you enjoyed it too, only then he will let out a shaky sigh of relief before looking you with eyes filled with so much love and adoration. He quickly tucks his member back into his underwear and zipped it out of sight, before it could do further damage,

"Thank you, my love. Thank you..." He leans forward to press numerous kisses onto your face, initially not caring that he's also coating his lips with his spunk. Only when it seeped into his mouth did he cringe and shudder.

"Ah, icky." Blanche would laugh, and so would you. He nuzzles his nose against yours and continued giving you kisses while you kneel in front of him.

His eyes would land on the disaster that he created while ejaculating, darting from your drenched form to the floor, and to his soiled hair too. Blanche would nervously chuckle while trying his best to wipe your face using the napkin he tucks into his other breast pocket. "Yucky, yucky." He would mumble lightheartedly to himself while he stares at you with the brightest twinkle in his downturned eyes.

"You're such a blessing to me, I love you." He whispered, urging you to come and sit on his lap, despite knowing that he would get his cum onto his waistcoat too. He tries his best to clean you up, but it's already staining everything. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He would love you up in his arms, showering you with praises and kisses for hours if you let him. You would be as giggly as him, as his fluttering lips would be ticklish. In the end, he would bury his face in your shoulder while he holds you close.

"I'm sorry I made such a mess. I got a bit too excited, y-you made me feel things I never felt before. It was... It was so good. I-I don't know what to say except thank you." He would murmur softly before you felt a certain dampness on your clothes, he's crying again.

"You're so good to me, my rose. You're my one and only, I love you." Blanche then presses a long, tender kiss on your lips. You close your eyes and he closes his teary ones, both of you melting into each other and enjoying the warmth.

He would slowly pull away and tenderly massage your jaw, it must have been straining when you did that for him. He isn't one to brag about his size, but he could clearly see that he was too big for you.

"I can't express enough how grateful I am. You're such a wonderful angel in my sad, sad life... How could I ever repay you, my love?" He caressed the side of your face, occasionally picking out hair that clung to your skin. "Would you like me to..." He trailed off, looking away embarrassed.

You got what he meant, you said yes. But only if he's comfortable with it.

"Of course, I am, my dear." He pressed his cheek against yours, hugging you as if you're his beloved stuffed toy. "But... I'm not, I don't- I don't have much experience doing such things."

He held your face and looked into your eyes, you could see uncertainty and nervousness swirling in those ocean blues.

"Will you teach me, darling? I would love to please you too. You have shown me a world that I couldn't even dream of experiencing. I am forever indebted to you and I-I'm having a hard time coming up with methods to show you my unyielding gratitude."

[cynicalrosebud]

Kinktober Day 6

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Female Genital Words

Prompt: Orgasm Denial + Oral

Pairing: Soap x Fem!Reader

The rest of Kinktober

The tension between you and Johnny had been building for what felt like hours. Every time you thought he’d finally let you have what you wanted, he’d pull away, a smug grin plastered on his face. You were sprawled out on the bed, your legs trembling as Johnny knelt between them, his hands gripping your thighs firmly, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

“Patience, bonnie,” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. “You’ll get what ye want, but on my terms.”

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body aching with need, but Johnny seemed to enjoy drawing it out, watching you squirm under his control. His fingers ghosted over your skin, barely touching, sending shivers through you that only made the anticipation worse.

“Please…” you managed to whisper, your voice hoarse, desperate. But that only made him grin wider, his blue eyes dark with mischief.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your thigh, and you thought—finally. But just as his lips brushed against your skin, he pulled back again, earning a frustrated groan from you.

“Not yet,” he murmured, his hands gripping your hips to keep you from moving. “Wanna to hear ye beg for it, baby.”

You were already close to losing your mind, the teasing touches, the way his mouth hovered just where you needed him—it was too much. Your body trembled, every nerve on edge, but Johnny had no intention of letting you off easy. He wanted you to break.

“Johnny - fuck! Please!”

His mouth descended slowly, his tongue flicking out to taste you, but just as quickly, he pulled back, watching as your body arched off the bed, a soft cry of disappointment escaping your lips. You were so close—so damn close—and he knew it. The look in his eyes told you that he was enjoying every second of this. 

“Please,” you whimpered again, your hands clutching the sheets, desperate for release. But Johnny wasn’t done with you yet.

You could feel your own pussy throb in need, juices flowing in a steady stream down the valley between your legs. Occasionally, your boyfriend would run a thick finger through the slick, ignoring your pleas and lifting his hand to clean them before diving back in.

His mouth finally returned to you, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that sent jolts of electricity through your body, but he never let you have enough. Every time you got close, every time you felt that familiar build in your core, he’d stop, pulling away just long enough to keep you on the edge of release, never letting you tip over. The huff of his hot breath was almost enough. But not enough. It was never enough.

You were trembling now, your entire body on fire, but Johnny’s control never wavered. His mouth worked against you, teasing, tasting, but always stopping just before you could find the release you were aching for.

“Such a good girl, so beautiful,” Johnny murmured, his voice thick with desire as he kissed his way up your thigh, his hands keeping you firmly in place. “But no’ yet. Yer going to hold on fer me, yeah?”

You let out a broken sound, somewhere between a moan and a sob, your body shaking with need. You couldn’t take it anymore—you needed him to let you finish, to finally push you over the edge, but Johnny wasn’t going to give it to you until he was ready.

He moved back down, his mouth pressing firmly against you, his tongue working you with just the right amount of pressure, but he still kept you teetering on the brink. Your body was tight, your muscles straining as the tension built higher and higher, but he never let you have it, never let you fall.

“Beg for it,” he commanded, his voice rough as he pulled back just enough to look up at you. “Tell me what ye want, baby.”

You could barely form words, your breath coming in gasps, your body quivering with need. “Please… Johnny, I—”

His mouth was back on you, pushing you closer to the edge again, and you let out a choked cry, your entire body aching for release. You were so close, so painfully close, but he still held you back, still kept you right on the edge without letting you fall.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing, Johnny’s grip on your hips tightened, and his mouth moved against you with more urgency. His tongue pressed firmly where you needed it most, his pace quickening just enough to push you over the brink.

The release hit you like a wave, crashing over you with blinding intensity as your body bucked beneath him. Johnny didn’t stop, his mouth working you through every moment of it, drawing out the pleasure until you were shaking, breathless, completely spent.

When he finally pulled away, you were left trembling, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of what he’d just put you through. Johnny looked up at you with a satisfied smirk, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he climbed up the bed, his eyes dark with pride.

“Told you it’d be worth it,” he whispered against your ear, his breath warm on your skin. And as your body slowly came down from the high, you couldn’t help but agree.

[gojoest]

i love you period sex

[kit-williams]

A Drabble

tw: oral; idiots in love;

-Timeline: Before the story proper-

Perturabo was use to Penelope being excitable... she was in her early twenties after all verses him being well over a hundred years old by the time they married. It amused him greatly how differently she acted in the public eye verses with him privately. It made him feel like he had something all his own and it was the truest version of his wife. But he watched her slide into the room looking at him bewildered, "Why didn't you tell me you were hot?!" She says in that whining tone of hers.

Perturabo gives Penelope a deep frown counting slowly in his head. She has a habit of saying stupid things not realizing at first what she says. With her also being from the mountains she sometimes messes up the phrasing... that and her being a commoner once she tends to speak far more casually with him in private... and well of course he loves her. Love was something Pertruabo did not give out his love easily as Calliphone was the only other person he would have said that he loved before he realized he loved Penelope in a different way.

"Let me rephrase!" Her eyes sparkle realizing her slip up, "Why am I only now finding out you had a beard!" She whines softly.

"I see you visited Calliphone." Pertruabo points out knowing full well that the only paintings of him left of his time before meeting Father were with his sister.

"Of course I did. And I only now just saw how amazing you look with a beard! I feel robbed!" Penelope says with her dramatics as he could hear her bare feet upon the stone as she walked over to his desk.

"Unlike Russ I did not enjoy the feeling of my hair getting tangled and knotted. So I shaved my whole body." Perturabo says returning focus to a building design.

"Do you think you'll ever grow it out again?" He feels her cheek against his arm.

"Why?"

"It looked good on you."

"Do I not look good now?" He looked over at her with a blank look on his face. He wasn't afraid of what she would say...

"I fell in love with you now. Clean shaven, tubes, and all. I mean I doubt I looked good when you first met me."

"You looked good."

"Bo I had three teeth missing, crooked toes from them being broken and not healing right, awful hair, and a myriad of other things that would leave many poets desiring something."

That got Perturabo to frown, "That doesn't matter." He bristles not liking how she talks about herself sometimes. He chose her so why does-

"Exactly dear." Penelope says softly with that pleasing smile of hers that causes her eyes to close slightly, "You loved me at my worst looking. No I'm not saying you have bad taste in women I'm saying that if looks were something you were really picky on then I wouldn't have a chance."

"They never complemented my work earnestly." Perturabo says softly.

"Their loss." She says before climbing up to sit on his thigh wrapping her arms around his neck and presses her cheek to his as she smiles just showering him in affection.

He doesn't like showing affection in public a weakness that could be exploited... but she's a mortal and needs it... and he wont repeat nearly letting her walk away from his life by withholding it from her. He sighs softly pulling her into a hug enjoying the comfortable silence before speaking up, "After the Crusade." She looks at him before he continues, "I'll regrow my beard after the Crusade. My head hair..." He feels a modicum of self consciousness at the thought.

"I can live with just a beard... and maybe some chest hair too?"

"You're insatiable." He kisses her cheek seeing the gears in her mind thinking, "You're thinking of something."

"Beard Burn." Penelope says with a sigh.

"You really are insatiable." He laughs softly to which she scoffs.

"Would you rather I be like Lady Dorn? Mindful and demur and stone faced too? Or perhaps I shall have a frown upon my face as well." She says before she pouts dramatically at him.

"You're pouting."

"Well I'm not very good at frowning I suppose." Penelope says before kissing him.

--------------

She doesn't know how this man got into her room... and why he was naked. But she had to admit he was insane enough to try and seduce her though he looked... familiar?

"Speechless?" That familiar voice rumbles out.

Her eyes widen, "Bo?"

"In the flesh," He lies as what this puppet really was is metal, "You really do not like it when I'm closer to your height."

She sighs putting a hand to her cheek, "Like I've said... a decade of being use to you towering over me does not go away just like that. But... I suppose... it's been awhile for you."

"Partially I do not trust myself to not hurt you," He partially lies to his beloved spouse looking away not wanting to think too hard about everything as he came here for a mental reprieve... not to be eaten by guilt...

He looks at her feeling her weight on the bed as she gives him a kiss for his troubles before pulling away and looking over him, "By the Ancients Perturabo you're so hairy!" She says before putting her face into his chest and making a pleased noise.

"Oh yes probably not as hairy as some of my sons from the mountains are," He says with his eyes closed as he can't help but preen under her pleased gaze, "But I hope its enoUGH!" He nearly jumps as he feels her mouth around him as he looks to her sparkling eyes as she grins with her mouth full giving a giggle. He swallows and burns the sight into his very essence, "Well you look quite pleased."

"Oh yesh bery peeesed," Penelope says with her mouth full.

"Don't talk with your mouth full Nelly." Perturabo says causing her to laugh and she lets him slip free from her mouth. As she crawls up to meet him in an embrace and to enjoy the night.

-Timeline: Perturabo got to Penelope first-

Guilliman didn't know what was spurring his traitorous brother on. Perturabo was moving aggressively carving out a large territory for himself. The spies that were able to give any information was sparse and usually wildly outdated by the time it reached him but something was spurring him on. The radical inquisitor was able to get a recording... "Apparently the rapid border expansion of the Iron lord's territory is because of something he acquired. We're uncertain if it's from his recent fights with the other traitor primarchs but the Iron Warriors have been consolidating and changing their focus."

Guilliman was very familiar with how Perturabo was moving... it was his methodical expansion from the Great Crusade... he was bringing planets into compliance. And given the numbers the Inquisiton estimate... Perturabo was a threat. His mind thinks back for a moment... perhaps the thing that changed was Penelope? But that was well over fifty years now when he first got that distress call from the Iron Amarantos and he assumes that the perils on that half of the Cixitrix Maledictum got to her before she could get to one of the crossing points.

"We don't have any information on this sudden Demogauge. All we know is that she just appeared around the same time of the expansion. The Iron Lady as she's been called." Guilliman refrains from rolling his eyes... of course just like Ferrus, Perturabo was associated with Iron.

The pict capture plays as the agents get into their positions. "This one is also important... but its clearly a young Astartes." The Inquisitor says as notes pop up as the image of a... familiar man walks on screen. He looked so much like Perturabo... then again what one of his sons didn't but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that this wasn't a normal son of Perturabo.

"And here comes the Iron Lady." The Inquisitor says but the Astartes uses a different title.

"Play it back now." Guilliman orders as he listens to the title again... "That's not Iron Lady..." He has a sinking feeling he knows who is about to walk on screen.

"What does it translate to then my Lord?"

"Iron Mother."

And upon the screen with a newfound grace she glided into view draped in the colors of the fourth legion straight from the days of the great crusade was Penelope. Though Roboute wonders if it really is her give how she was closer to the size of Alpharius or a Primaris marine and Roboute watched her sweet talk a planet into compliance... because she was the gentle hand to the Iron Lord... she was the gentle hearth where Perturabo was a roaring forge... Roboute didn't have many chances to meet his brother's wife. But he remembers one of the few times she was around and Perturabo was bristling. Perhaps it is the hindsight now to realize that her death is what damned the fourth legion... but he remembers the way they simply looked at each other. Something Roboute was jealous of, at the time, with how tenderly she held his face... how lovingly she looked into his eyes...

"It can't be her..." He whispers... this must have been some poor mortal or some abomination Perturabo had made to replace his wife... if he never got over her.

"Who is she..." An Inquisitor asks.

"Back in the Great Crusade era... before the Heresy... Perturabo had a wife," His eyes focus on one of the Astartes standing next to her before pointing, "and a son."

The Ram, the bulwark of Ossento system, Warsmith of the 101st Grand Company... and more titles but Guilliman couldn't help but see how much he looked like his father... the way he seemed to look into the camera and just smile.

The alarms blare as the sigil of the Iron Warriors appears on the screen. A virus the tech adepts and priests scream as a video forces itself to play.

"Hello Guilliman." Penelope says, "You probably have a dozen questions seeing me again... and like this." She says softly, "I would love to answer them but straying too far from your brother would... well he wouldn't like that but I'm willing to meet you still perhaps not at Macragge but I think you will be please with what I have to say. Take care Lord of Macragge." And with the video ends the virus dies