Ichor

⟡ Warhammer 40k ⭒ Space Marine Husbandry Sentience ⭒ Dark Sentience ⭒ Nox Thalassic

⟡ Elden Ring ⊱ 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⊱ 𝐀 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 ⊱ 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⊱ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

⟡ Bioshock ⊱ 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐡𝐬

⟡ Skyrim ⊱ 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲

⟡ Misc ⊱ 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⊱ 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⊱ 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⊱ 𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲: 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 ⊱

⟡The Emperor Zurg ⊱ 𝐙𝐮𝐫𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⊱ 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠

𓆩⟡𓆪 Ichors’ Warhammer Request’s ✰ Ichors’ Request’s ✰ Ichors' Respire ✰ Ichors’ Oc’s ✰ 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝

Through, you definitely praise him for being him. For courting you so. The ways back then were rather romantic. Now? It’s seemingly all about one-night-stands. You like how he holds your hands and pulls them over his undead heart. It feels so vulnerable; so trusting. It’s sweet, rottingly so, but you also like how he just… sweeps you off your feet. Literally and mentally. Going somewhere without him? Not with him carrying you around. You’re mad at him? Let him swoon you with his actions as they will be louder here than any other argument.

Yet you still don’t know how to return his affections properly. He has no head, no face. What are you supposed to do? Grope him? You can’t kiss his lips or thread your fingers through his hair but… not all affections can be directed to the head. You can show him that you’re returning your love. You could kiss the stump of his neck softly, trailing them down his back or chest. Perhaps massage his shoulders with all the reaping he does? No… you could… initiate something. You two haven’t had such satisfaction in a while…

So you started small, giving his chest little kisses here and there when he’s being rather clingy. Even more so with your pecks of love. He craves it. He wants more as his hands make sure to keep you close. Not restricting or holding you. He’s just prepared for whatever you plan to do with him and these assaults of kisses to his chest then neck. It had him give a little satisfied shiver.

He knows you’re planning something, but what? Are you waiting on him? Perhaps you are testing him? Do you want something from him? He will gladly provide it, but he was rather stunned by your bold offer to take him in your mouth.

He accepts of course, and the moment feels a little awkward as this was a new thing for the both of you. He was the one that mostly pleased you, not the other way around, and he may have argued with you on that. That he’s the man, and that he should provide. His satisfaction doesn’t matter. Only yours.

But he can’t say no to his mate that wants to satisfy him in turn with those eyes you’re giving him.

So, you find yourself between his thighs, making sure to go slow as your fingers gently trace the muscle there. Waiting patiently for any rejection he might make within his silent forest. He makes none, but you’re still respectful enough to watch out for any tall tell signs: stiffness, jerking away or even a hiss from the whisps of his neck. You’ll make him feel just as loved as he does to you.

You start with trailing up from his thighs to his v-line first. Eyes watching every single switch of skin and muscle. When you find a hard spot? You pause and give him a little hand massage there, waiting for the spot to relax before moving forward before trailing your fingers right where he needs you the most, and where you want him.

His manhood stands proud and aroused. Your teasing hands definitely getting a rise out of him. His tip not yet leaking, but you’ll make quick work to make sure he gets all the love and satisfaction from you. It’s what a spouse should do, right?

“Good spouse.” A praise leaves your lips. Your hands stroking him softly. You want him to feel appreciated. Not the other way around. “So good and providing.”

You don’t get a peep out of him, but his manhood shows otherwise and twitching fingers struggling to take control of the situation. You’d honestly expect him to move and pounce on you, but he doesn’t. Instead? His leather bound hands gently stroke the side of your cheek. Almost as if saying you don’t have to say such praises to him. That he knows that you love him. Even if you might not show it often.

“Let me please you for once, horseman.” You tease softly, turning your head to press your lips to his leather glove. Kissing him once more even if not on the lips.

His hand stops for a second on your cheek. As if he’s processing your words and actions like a bad CPU that keeps freezing. You must of bamboozled him with your tease and sincerity, and you snort at the thought. Kissing his hand again so he knows you found his own actions amusing. Your hands pumping his length with a little more energy that makes his steady fingers give a slight shake on your cheek.

“You tease and worship, my love.”

Despite the man having no physical head? He talks but not… humanly. More like multiple phantoms whispering to one another with a soft yet deep voice, and you notice the shadowy wisps near his neck swirl when he does so. It’s cute, and you’d love to hear him read to you as you fall asleep on his shoulder- or perhaps upon his mount? With your back to his chest?

“As you do.” You respond with a small smile, giving his length a small lick, testing. Your hands going slow to accommodate your next move. “You provide than argue. You get stuff done, and more importantly? You look titillating doing it too.”

“Titillating?” His voice sounds amused and in your head. His hand moving back to his sides to clutch the log he sits upon. “My… you trying to arouse me or make me feel good?”

“Both.” Is your simple reply before you cut the conversation. Finally getting from worshipping his length to his tip. Tongue being gentle, explorative and seemingly inexperienced. It’s arousing and teasing to him. They way how your licks are like tests of temptation upon him. How the heat of your mouth tingles his very own vulnerable flesh. It’s nice, he won’t lie but he is so used to being the gentleman than he wants to take over and switch positions immediately. He doesn’t however, he’s using every ounce of will power he has just to obey your wish to satisfy him. No matter the twitchy fingers.

You find yourself kissing and taking his tip into your mouth a little. Not too much. You’re worshipping him after all. Showing your love in many other ways. Including this teasing oral. Your lips wrapping around him softly, and the supernatural can’t help but give out a groan. The sound like music to your ears but perhaps horrifying to others.

“My love.” His endearment is like a moan of praise. His clutched hands moving from his side to carefully cradle the back of your head. Clearly wanting more but having enough restraint to not push too much. Having a bit of decency to not have you gag upon his cock.

You can feel his fingers scrunching, digging lightly into your scalp as if guiding you. The warm of his length twitching inside of your mouth while you lick and suck, giving him all the attention he deserves while he gets closer and closer to his release he usually doesn’t find in order to please you instead, but he’s breaking quicker than you expected. You wonder if it’s because you’re giving rather than receiving. If that’s the case? You might have some new ways to tempt your precious, supernatural spouse.

You hum around his cock at the thought, sinking your mouth down to deep throat now. His fingers immediately tightening behind your head as he gives a grunt of satisfaction, rolling his hips a little as you can finally taste a bit more of him on your tongue before he releases.

It’s unexpected as you swallow what he gives you. Giving more gentle licks and sucks to coax more out of his length before pulling away and giving a kiss to his now clean tip. Your tongue running over your teeth in show.

“You didn’t last long, mate.” You tease again, giving him an equal smile. Your hands never really leaving his length while you wait patiently for him to recover and say something sassy back, but it’s confuses you when he does nothing for a moment, not even giving a snark.

You’re about to apologize, leaning forward, and that’s when he pounces. Striking fast and leading you down to the ground before your yelp could even register. His form between your legs, spreading them wide for him to fit.

“Good mate, precious mate.” Various praises leave the horseman. A ghostly feeling of nuzzle being pressed into your neck. Forcing you to show neck and all vulnerabilities your body has. His gloves fingers trailing down and sliding under your clothing to circle your bundle of nerves.

Again, Sanguinius is not one to get jealous nor riled up, but something about the rumors nag at him. Make something inside of him rise up and feel like an itch that he has to scratch. It feels a bit… primal. Not that he’s complaining too much. The only thing he can really complain about is not seeing you. To have you near. To make sure those spreading lies around him are not the truth because they are just jealous that can’t have him themselves.

Sanguinius briefly wonders what I’d be like the other way around. To have the rumors turned on him. To say he’s being unfaithful. Of course, no one would dare to spew such dastardly bravery upon a Primarch, but he doesn’t like the thought of being unfaithful himself. It makes him feel like he’s eating his brother’s fortifications and sieges whilst grinding the harsh materials with his teeth.

He wonders if this is what you feel if he ever let you hear such heresy upon you. If you grind your teeth at the simple thought- or perhaps hide away like Magnus does? Though, your hiding would break his many hearts. He’d rather see you smile up at him while the sky’s of Baal threaten to outshine you.

Or perhaps… he wouldn’t mind to see you beneath him. Crying out his name for those pesky rumors to disappear. To see your skin painted with his fangs and your succulent blood. For your face to be in pure bliss. Ruined for any that dares to try and take what is his- the legions.

This particular thought stuck to him until he was barely out of his armor and heading straight to where you reside: Your personal garden of roses that are called “Black Baccara,” and those particular roses remind him of familiar crimson puddles that went heavy with too much loss. He figures that why some of the petals of the roses have bite marks in them of two holes from where his son’s fangs have pierced.

You seem more amused by the bites in the petals rather than scolding. Sanguinius shakes his head every time he sees a bitten flower but doesn’t make a move to stop them if it’s a thing that doesn’t necessarily bother you.

“Leave me, my sons.” He waves his guarding legionaries from their position, his wings giving a slight twitch, and they simply give a nod in return. Their steps heavy of the armor they wear. Echoing down the hall before all is silent once more.

The winged Primarch can hear your heart from where he stands. His own hearts linking to the beat of yours. Albit it’s a little different but he can make an easy rhythm of it. It was soothing to him. To not only taste the crimson of your body but to also hear your heart, even when he must sleep after some time. It tells him that you’re still here, never betraying him. That you still love him despite what he might do.

He inhales before pushing the door to your garden open. His eyes looking everywhere before looking at you: tending to a bitten flower, cutting it from its stem before putting it a golden vase with other marked flowers. You seem to like to make their ravenous mistakes as something beautiful. Maybe that’s why many bitten petals appear in your garden…

“Hello, my love.” He finally greets you. His wings giving a little satisfaction fluff while he watches you get spooked by his sudden presence before beaming up at him. The simplicity of you warming his many hearts. He almost wishes that he had more in order to combat what you do to him.

“Sanguinius!” You say his name like a praise, rushing towards him. Trusting of him that he will catch you in his arms and never let you go, and he does. His hands grasping your waist with efficiency and holding you up to his chest where he can easily nuzzle into your neck. His wings wrapping around the both of you like secondary protection, a shield.

“Hello, my little rose.” He greets you again, purring it out. His lips kissing the softness of your neck. Perhaps an ultimate trust for a blood thirster to achieve. “How are you?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” A huff leaves you, your hands gently moving along his face. Mapping him out, making sure he’s still the same when he had left you. “I hear… rumors.”

The blood Primarch pauses his nuzzling at that. Looking up at you from his place in your neck. Have you heard the same rumors he has? The gossip? He must know, his voice low. Barely unnoticeable. “What of them?”

He watches as you seem to shy away from the probing question. Your own eyes showing clear hesitation of what to say to him. He’s patient of course. Willing to keep you hostage till you speak your pretty mind out to him. His eyes watching every single detail your body might make.

“Most talk that I-“ You pause, unable to get the words out as they are rather shameful to even say out loud or to even admit. “That you- Oh goodness…”

“What bothers you so that you must hesitate?” He pushes gently. Moving to sit on a near by bench without the back, and with you upon his lap. His hands always keeping you close.

“…Many claim infidelity!” You finally speak out. Oh so ashamed of uttering such words to a Primarch no less. Hiding your face in your own hands as it wouldn’t be ideal to hide in your husband’s protection after admitting such words to him.

It clicks instantly for Sanguinius however. About these claims that you have heard of. Someway or another. His grip on you tightening a little before relaxing. If anything? Perhaps these rumors will make you more yielding to his advances.

“Do not be consumed by such childish talk.” He hums, pulling you closer again to nuzzle into your neck again. Feeling that familiar lure to taste you. To feed from you. “It’s untrue. Do you have no faith in me?”

“N-no! I mean! Yes!” Your lips blurt out, and he can’t help but just watch you stammer and be flustered by him. To watch how your lips move and your pulse quicken.

He kisses you suddenly, silencing your mumbling apologies and excuses. A hand coming up to cup the back of your head, deepening the kiss that you seem surprised by before melting into it.

“Sanguinius…” You breathe once he lets you. Still trying to tire yourself out with apologies that he doesn’t necessarily care for. He knows you wouldn’t do such a thing. You were just… exposed to the whispers.

Perhaps both of you shall make it up to one another? Starting with claiming your blood once more. His fangs grazing your neck as he feels you shiver in his capturing embrace.

He’s soft and gentle at first, piecing the pulse of your skin that almost feels therapeutic. A soft groan leaving the both of you. One for the exotic taste of your blood and another for the sensation of your own life force being sipped from you.

You trust that he doesn’t take too much considering his size. Your hands clutching at his chest. Being oh so willing to help your Primarch. To feed him even when he doesn’t ask for your approval, and he’s aroused by such trust. Such vulnerability.

He shifts to lay you down in the bed of your roses, keeping his fangs in your throat. Each thorn pricked before you even awaken. I mean, how else do those bite marks get into those petals you dearly love? They are certainly not bugs. That risks sickness, and sickness risks Nurgle and that risks your life that he’s not willing to give up so easily.

Your soul is his while his is yours.

Your foreseen whimpers bring him back to his goal at hand, however. He’s taking too much from you. He knows he is, but the look on your dazed face makes it worth it. Makes you supine. He wants more. Greeds for more. Always more of you.

He waits no longer. Needing to claim what is his. Needing to have you after days of dastardly gossip. To have you smell like him and never leave his chambers again. To have you completely so bedridden that you don’t have to question his infidelity again.

The simple word leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but it’s overrun by the gush of blood that rushes into his mouth. Overrun by the feeling of your walls wrapping around his slow, intruding cock.

Throne, he has missed you. To have your kisses, touch and blood. To have your heat wrapped around him like a vice as it has been too long since the last intercourse you both had together. Too long.

Another groan leaves him, loosening his fangs upon your neck to huff upon your skin as he thrusts forward inside of you. His fangs piercing his own lips now, drawing his own blood. His hands clawing at the rose bed beneath you as he tries not to absolutely ruin you for his own selfish pleasure. He knows he’s big, and you? Small. So perfect. So dazed and cock drunk to notice you're mewling his name for those gossipers to hear. To shut down their petty, insolent whispers.

He shall prove to you- to them that you're completely his. To mark you up in all ways: fangs, claws and seed. They will know their place, and you? Bedridden and always by his side. He will make sure of it.

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