#Leman Russ x reader

[lemon-russ]

I lived, bitch. jk I am back and feeling much better after being run over by the metaphorical train of my failing body lol.

The poll has time but Wolf Mother is winning, it was good I asked because I thought it was one that people weren't super into, but I'm glad for it! It was a nice change of pace writing Leman again ❤️

Thanks @squishyowl for dividers! Taglist: @sleepyfan-blog @scriberye @undeaddream

Wolf Mother (Ch. 3)

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Ao3 || Taglist request ||

Leman Russ x Fem OC

CW: Trauma/ PTSD, Talk of missing limbs/ prosthetics/ bionics, General WH40k violence (playful fighting here), If I miss any let me know!!

Summary: Wren gets a tour of The Fang.

Word count: 2,932

Small note: previously I wrote Wren was in the Astra Millitarium. Obviously she can't be, we are in 30k. I corrected it in the first chapter to the Auxilia, which was my original intent, I just mixed up Imperial Guard and Imperial Army. Fixed now :)

Wren scrambles behind Leman as he makes his way through the tunnels of The Fang. ”So, Paper-thrall, what use will you be exactly?” Leman asks, inquisitive Space Wolves eyeing her as they pass.

Wren frowns a bit as she is leered at like a new chew toy, but the wolves seem to be curious and nothing more. “Well, for Lord Guilliman, I’ve been handling things like logistics paperwork, transfers, budget approval forms…” she says, trying to keep pace with his long strides.

Russ scoffs. “Busywork. Leave it to Roboute to have a form for every bolt round that changes hands.” He chuckles, leading her to a rickety lift. The platform never stops its slow movement, just suspended standing decks going up on one side and down on the other perpetually down a rock hewn shaft. She nervously hops on behind him and they are lowered down the dark hole down a few floors.

Russ disembarks the lift at one of the openings, and when he sees Wren not keeping up, he reaches back and picks her up by the scruff of her coat and plops her next to him. She blinks, a little confused, but just blushes as she returns to chasing after him.

“Having clear and concise forms and regulations keeps things moving,” she stammers as she catches up to him again. “Without it, how would we know when to order more supplies? Or who is where and who is available-”

“You just tell someone.” Russ chuckles. “My sons tell me we are almost out of rounds when they see we are low, and they tell me where they are going. All the paperwork causes is headaches for little thralls.” He says, smiling down at her in amusement.

Wren’s mouth twists down. “That sounds like anarchy.” She replies flatly.

“Hah!” The primarch barks a laugh, “Anarchy, or freedom from your tedium? We get things done just the same.” He gestures through an archway. “Come, I will show you around the main areas of the Aett. It is vast and complex for little baselines, so try not to get lost.”

Leman leads her through what feels like miles of caverns. Wren’s legs and lungs ache from having to jog after him. While she was a little out of shape since she’s been on desk duties, she still kept up on her fitness as any good ultramarine employee would. But Russ was tall, taller than Guilliman, his brisk walk and long legs outruns her jogging. He doesn’t slow for her, just expecting her to keep pace.

As he shows her various store rooms and barrack areas, she pulls out a notebook and starts noting things that she’ll need to start organizing. No inventory sign-outs in the storerooms, no regular counts on supplies, things tossed into mixed crates and shoved on shelves. She was going to need to commandeer a small army of serfs to get this place in working order. She stops and grimaces when they pass the bathing and laundry areas. Piles of dirty clothes lay haphazardly around washing pools where tired serfs scrub them by hand over stone with lye soaps. She notes to ask to import at least some rudimentary cleaning machines like wringers and wash tubs.

Everywhere they go she sees the same things, unorganized supplies with serfs working with incredibly low tech tools that make things take ages to finish. Which makes them not have time to organize and clean as much, so the mess piles and piles. Wren starts laying out the overhauls she would need to make to get things moving efficiently.

Leman peeks over her shoulder at her notes, making her jump with a start.

“Inventory lists? Washing Barrels? Rotating thrall schedules? Skíthof little paper-thrall, you worry about such minor things.” He chuckles, ruffling her hair.

She frowns and lets out a huff from her nose, pushing her hair back in place. “Minor things build up, My Lord. All the time wasted with having to search for supplies and wash clothes by hand make up hours and hours of wasted time, and more wasted time means more Serfs needed to run the place, which means more food and housing for them.” She says tiredly, closing her notebook with a snap.

He tilts his head, standing upright again. “So? We have plenty of food for the thralls, we are good hunters, and we have many miles of caves for them to live.” He shrugs. “Why not have many of them live here and not bother with the teeny details?”

Wren scrunched her brow and sighed. “Because it’s, well, inefficient. And messy…” But Russ was already walking ahead, ignoring her again.

He stops at a large archway, and she smells bread and meat wafting invitingly through the halls. Her stomach grumbles, she hasn’t eaten since getting on the thunderhawk this morning. Leman smirks at her, then nods at the archway. “Come, little paper-thrall. We don’t let let our pack go hungry.”

They head into the warm, bright hall, full of space wolves talking and laughing and eating. The sweet, acrid smell of Mjød mixes with the warm bread aroma, and a large crackling hearth serves as backdrop to an Astartes telling an animated story to a group of space wolves and baselines alike, who enthusiastically cheer and laugh at his tale.

Wren sighs and happily takes the seat next to Leman at a long table, her hand going to knead at her thigh above her bionic leg. Though her bionic moves it’s own weight, she still needed to use her real muscle to lift it. She hasn’t had to push it so much yet, and her quad thrums sorely.

Russ watches her hand massaging her leg thoughtfully, but is interrupted from whatever he was about to say when a couple of Space wolves sit across from them, grinning and giddily staring down Wren.

“See-” The blond one says and elbows his brother, “I told you, The Wolf King has a new pet.”

His redheaded brother tilts his head curiously at her, then leans over the table and sniffs at her, making her shrink back with a frown.

“She smells odd.” He huffs.

Wren furrowed her brow at that, sniffing her own shirt. Leman laughs though, “She is not my pet, she is my paper-thrall.” He proclaims. ”Assistant.” She adds with a sigh. “I’m his assistant.”

The wolves tilt their head at her again, then smile wide. They are young enough to not have fangs yet, and playfully move to sit next to her, making her pull back into herself as she’s suddenly dwarfed by the massive marines.

“You smell odd.” The blond one says happily. The red haired one who sniffed her first does so again.

“Yes, you smell like Ultramarines.” He adds. He gently tugs on the sleeve of her poofy coat. “And you wear their inferior clothes. Do you not have furs?”

“My coat is fine-” she starts, but the red haired blood claw interrupts.

“Ah, has no one killed for you yet? Is that why you have to wear silly clothes?” ”My clothes are not si-” she squeaks out, trying to crowbar her words between them uselessly.

“She must not!” The blond replies, “Would you like me to kill a Great Bear for you?” He asks excitedly. Wren could almost see his metaphorical tail wagging.

“No no- I will get you a much nicer pelt than Thorarr would, let me.” The Redhead interjects, grinning ear to ear.

The blond, Thorarr, scowls at his brother. “Myrnir, I would slay a far greater bear than you. You only attack small, weak bears that are easy kills.” He gruffs as he crosses his arms.

Myrnir scowls back. “How would you know! You have not seen me hunt-” his brother rebuked.

“I have see the sad pelt you presented that thrall girl who polishes your armor, it is no wonder she rejected you.” He retorted.

Suddenly they are on their feet, growling and snapping words at each other, Wren forgotten. She blinks a few times, disoriented for a moment at the sudden shift. The blood claws argue and shove at each other, Russ, however just chuckles. “The youngest of my sons have less restraint.” He tells her as he reaches across the table to a wooden tray of breads, handing her a large roll. “Their attention is fleet and their tempers hot. They will outgrow it after a few decades of battle.”

The blood claws start grappling at each other, and an older wolf throws a large mug at them, conking the redhead in the back of the head. “Take it to the fight grounds before you break another table!” He scolds the pair. Myrnir grumbles, rubbing his skull where the tankard hit him, and they both stalk out of the hall.

Wren chuckles to herself, “They are certainly spirited.” She says, taking a bite of the roll. It’s grainy and hearty, and she wonders when the last time she had anything that tasted so much like real food was. It feels like it’d been a decade at least since her meals didn’t come from a package.

Leman rumbles a low chuckle in his chest. “That’s why they go first in battle. To get them trained, to let out their energy, and so they don’t clip anyone else on the way in.” He says with a smile. He glances back at her hand, still kneading her thigh. “I’m sure you were similar in your new years as a soldier?” He asks a bit softer.

She smiles and chuckles softly. “I suppose I was. I had a bad habit of going after much bigger opponents.” She says nostalgically. Her early days in the Auxilia were full of feats of glory and adrenaline. She sometimes thinks back and wonders how she managed to make it so long without ending up paste under an Orks boot, but her ferocity was what helped her climb the ranks so fast.

Russ grins and nods to her leg. “That how you lost it? Bit off more than you could chew?” He asks curiously.

Her smile falters a bit. “No.” She says quickly, turning back to the table and picking at her roll. The primarch deflates a little, huffing softly. He watches her nibble at her bread, then smiles again, perking up. “I have somewhere good to show you next.” He says happily.

He leads her up a few more terrifying lifts and through more dank tunnels before they get to a large complex of wide rooms. She could hear growling and barking and big padded feet stomping before they got there, and the distinct but not entirely unpleasant smell of wolves gave her an idea where they were before they actually entered the kennels.

Massive Fenrisian wolves play, sleep in piles, and gnaw on bones the size of Wren, spread out across what was mostly left as natural cave formation rooms. One was coming in from a large tunnel that seemed to climb upwards outside, shaking off snow from its stark black coat. Another two roll in a play fight together, their white fur making them look like an avalanche. Dozens of them lounge and play, drinking water from a small natural stream through the rocks and napping on beds of dirt.

As they get closer, Wren’s steps start to falter. These weren’t just wolves. The smallest was, as she could begin to see, the size of two men. The larger black ones, some were the size of artillery vehicles.

“By the throne…” She mumbles in awe, feet refusing to bring her closer to the massive predators. Leman looks over his shoulder at her standing, jaw agape, and laughs. “Come, little paper-thrall, they will not harm you. Not these ones at least. These are our pack members, they fight beside us and lend us their speed and strength.”

As he speaks, the two largest wolves, one black and one white, perk up and thunder over to them, paws thudding against stone enough to feel the vibrations through the ground where she stood. Wren recoils back a few steps, but the wolves stop at Leman, licking his face and pawing at him as he laughs cheerfully.

He turns back to her and motions her forward. “Come! These are my kin, my brothers, I was raised with them by the same wolf mother. This is Freki, and this Geri. They my companions.” He introduces, rubbing their ears as they wag their tails and lick at him.

The two beasts are massive, taller than any space marine, coming up to Leman’s chest at their head. Wren swallows hard. “Uhm- h-hello, Lord Russ’s… brothers…” she says warily.

The black wolf, Freki, radars his ears toward her voice, staring her down with eyes that almost glow with reflection from the dim torch lights of the halls. He pads over to her, and she cringes down a little as his massive nose sniffs at her face.

He tilts his head and pads around her in a circle as Geri comes over and gives her a snuffles at her too. She grimaces at their warm breath assaulting her face, before Freki licks the side of her head in a long motion, making her squeak in surprise. Geri wags his tail and licks her too, making giggle as shes suddenly attacked by their affections, tails wagging happily as she devolved into breathless laughing.

“O-okay-! please-!” She gasps through her giggles, and Leman, grinning and laughing softly calls them off of her.

“Enough of that, give her a second to breathe.” He tells the wolves as they happily trot to him and nuzzle him with their snouts. He grins at the disheveled, slobbered Wren as she tries to still her laughter. “See? My wolf-kin are friends.”

She tried to wipe her face with her hands, making a soft blehch at the slobber. “They certainly are personable, sir.” She chuckles. She uses the clean stream water to rinse her face off and returns to Leman’s side when he motions for her to.

“I want you to see some of our pack.” He says, softer now. She follows his gaze to two playing wolves. They growl and play bite at each other's legs, tumbling and snarfing and wagging their tails. But one of the wolves has the advantage- a shiny, metallic limb replaces his back leg.

Wren raises her brow, looking up at Russ. “You… You give the wolves Bionics?” She asks quietly, looking around and spotting a bionic eye, a front leg, a missing ear….

“Of course.” He says, smiling down at her with a gentler expression. “They are our pack, and we care for them the same we would any who suffer an injury.”

Her gaze falls back to the playing canines. The wolf without bionics is playing just as roughly with its kin as the others are playing, snapping teeth and body checks and leg bites. The bionic using wolf returns it in full, even using the leg to it’s advantage - its friend doesn’t like to bite the metal, so it uses that one to kick at the other wolf.

Across the cavern, she sees another wolf with a bionic front leg. This one limps slightly, and still has stitches and shaved areas from whatever injury it had. It flops down, licking and chewing at the place where the metal limb meets flesh.

Habitually, Wren’s hand went to that spot where her own leg met her thigh, massaging the muscles there.

She has to swallow back some emotion, watching the juxtaposition of the hobbling, recovering animal licking its sore phantom limb, and the lively, playing wolf who is well accustomed to his own.

Leman glances down at her, seeing her a little misty eyed, and frowns. Following her gaze, then watching her knead at her leg, he smiles understandingly.

“They bounce back.” He says as he kneels on one knee to be more level with her. She glances to him at her side before returning to watching the canines.

“They have a period of readjustment.” He continues, nodding to the limping wolf. “They need time to heal, and relearn their senses. And I think also, to grieve.” He says in a low, careful voice, watching her face as she bit her lip. “It is not an easy thing, losing something so life altering.”

He points at the happy, playing wolf. “But they do come back, with encouragement. That one has had about a year with his new body, and now you could hardly tell. Sometimes he itches at it, or favors the leg a tad. But he is him again.” Leman says softly. “And the survivors, they come back even more driven. I think getting that second chance pushes them.”

It takes a lot of effort to swallow down her emotions this time, eyes wetting threateningly. She grips the knee of her pants on her bionic side. The primarch gives a small smile down at her. “How long have you had yours, little paper-thrall?”

She takes a steadying breath. “About… About a year. Year and a half.” She rasps quietly.

Leman gives her a firm pat on her back, making her have to stumble and balance herself. She looks up at him in surprised, brow knit in confusion.

“About time you get back to it then, right, little paper-thrall?” He says with a warm, fanged smile.

[ahrianee]

[🐺] The hands of Wolf King

I'll just say I didn't expect it to be so fun to draw somewhat hairy hands, besides Leman in my canon has smaller hands but they are still bigger compared to his beloved

Whoever likes Leman, thanks @bispecsual Thanks for the idea 💕

There are really so many good options, I'm seriously thinking about drawing Vulkan's hands too!

A little mention to @druidwolf21 , because I know how much you like Leman(?)💕 Just think it's Cala who's receiving all that affection (?)

💕✨

[lxvvie]

Being in a relationship with Leman Russ would consist of:

Flirtation. Heavy flirtation on Leman's part. Unabashedly so.

And staring. The way Leman stares at you is intense. If it were anyone else, they'd be understandably unnerved, but you're used to it. Still, it doesn't stop you from getting a little flustered and Russ smirking in response.

Just as Freki and Geri guard Leman, so, too, do they guard you. And enjoy the pats and scritches. One of the main reasons the Wolf King pursued his relationship with you further was because they were so receptive to you.

Similarly, the Fenryka have taken to you like none other. The Wolf King's mate, just as worthy to defend and fight alongside as their sire. Pity you can't drink as much as they can... or can you?

If you thought Horus would never let his partner's feet touch the ground, Russ has his brother beaten. On his lap you'll rest and on his lap you'll remain, one of his large arms wrapped comfortably around you. If he had his way, of course. Which he mostly does.

Leman being a cuddle monster. Or cuddlewolf. Or Cuddleprimarch. Whichever. Preferably naked on his part, too, because he REALLY loves your body heat. No, really. He does.

Because Russ is one of the few primarchs who is quite public with his relationship, you're one of the more visible and publically acknowledged of the spouses. Not as much as Horus's is, but you're up there.

Spoiling you. Perhaps a little too much. Oh, what the hell...

Leman thinking you're magnificent when you're angry. Or flustered. Or fighting. Or all three simultaneously. He'll tease you just so you can get flustered.

Similarly, you tease Leman about his ruminations whenever he drops the Fenrisian barbarian schtick because it's reminiscent of his brother. Which brother, you never say, and the ambiguity of it all is enough for Leman to hit you with a colossal side-eye that has your stomach aching from laughter.

While you most certainly love to assist in braiding Leman's hair up, there's nothing quite as wonderful as feeling the entirety of his mane brush against your skin, a majestic curtain if you will, especially when he corners you and swoops down for a kiss.

[diabolicalevil]

The headcanons on if they would beg during a breakup tickled my toes pretty well so i would like to request them showing up at some event and it turns out it’s their beloveds wedding (lmao they aint the groom). How butthurt would they be? Would they object and stop the wedding? I feel like some of them would probably sob as the exchange of vows start and play it off like they’re crying happy tears or something, others might literally nuke the entire place and kill everyone (a bit specific but i would love to read your thoughts and headcanons on this devious scenario😈😈)

Primarchs reaction to your wedding with another man

gn!reader

so @thethronezone has already made a post like this and I just wanted to mention that espc cause I share similiar thoughts but I'll take a crack at it ! most are rather light hearted

Warnings: none

Lion El'johnson: would challenge them to a duel I think. for performances sake, he knows he is going to win. he's saddened and lion is lion so this appears as rage. to your groom most likely but there would also be an element of "Why didn't you stop this?" even if you were forced into it

Fulgrim: would object. I don't think this is universal but if someone objects to a wedding it has to be called off until its sorted out. in that however long time he's going PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE until you agree not to marry them. if all else fails he can simply take you that's also an option

Perturabo: seething like Fuck. he's in and he's out, if he stays he'll just destroy the place. believes you've abandoned him and will spend the rest of his life despising you

Jaghatai Khan: stand away from your husband for one (1) minute and ur gone. eloped, kidnapped, stolen whatever you wanna call it he has you now

Leman Russ: I think he'd kill. maybe. I dunno. I think collectively the Space Wolves would sabotage the wedding

Rogal Dorn: white knuckling until his skin matches his hair. he's trying so hard to be normal, be happy even. but he cannot and he wants to pummel the grooms face. it depends what he thinks is best for you. if you love the groom he will bite his tongue and live with the hurt but if you don't he'll object. and the weddings already on so he has to make that guess quickly

Konrad Curze: KILL MAIM BURN KILL MAIM BURN KILL MAIM BURN

Sanguinius: in actual tears, sad wet man he is. if he doesn't get a moment with you he'll continue the part of an angel even with tears pricking his eyes. if he does he'll beg you to rethink. and if that fails. air strikes

Ferrus Manus: angry, surprisingly. the hurt is there but it's overshadowed. he thinks you're being a fool, that this is completely illogical and he is obviously the correct choice. he only settles down when the thought that maybe his sons were right about humanity crosses his mind. he is livid but that he will not tolerate

Angron: KILL MAIM BURN KILL MAIM BURN KILL MAIM BURN (sad vers)

Roboute Guilliman: knows the wedding will be called off if he objects and that's why he does it immediately. any loop hole, any reason he can find to take you. you would expect him to be more level headed about the ordeal but he's frantic and desperate to put a stop to this

Mortarion: jesus Christ. the most butt hurt of the primarchs and yet he wouldn't object, wouldn't even stay long. he'd give snarky congratulations and insult your husband and would never face you again. not because he doesn't want to, quite the opposite. he just fears the facade would crumble if you ever met again

Magnus: mind control

Horus Lupercal: object and he's the most. I don't wanna say sassy. and I just used snarky. he's the most Cunt about it. he acts as if he has no doubt you will return to him but internally he's losing it that he's lost control of the situation this bad

Lorgar Aurelian: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Vulkan: for once he's somber and quiet, like it's a funeral rather than a wedding. he wants to believe you're happy and that you chose this but another part of him is eagle eyed for any reason to sweep you away back to Nocturne

Corvus Corax: also silent, shocker I know. it kills him but it works. he knew your relationship wasn't destined to last and as long as you're happy it's a more effective way of being able protecting you from the shadows. if your husband is the danger however. uh. mysteriously dismembered in a river. so sad

Alpharius/Omegon: ok. so. a few options. 1, they knew and are willing to give you up. 2, they knew and the wedding is sabotaged. 3, your husband is an alpha legion plant. 4, they are going to kill and replace your husband. take ur pick man

[druidwolf21]

A genuine conversation I had with my partner

[fyxestroll]

Whose Problem Is It When the Primarchs Fall in Love? Pt.1

note: this was meant to be crack-ish but I sniffed some angst powder so some of these came out angstier than expected. also for anyone who sent requests, I'm working on them family problems and school are just getting in the way <33

Lion - It’s his problem. On the outside nothing is wrong everything is fine but on the inside everything is wrong and everything is NOT fine but you wouldn’t notice anything is going on. For Lion, falling in love involves a lot of self-discovery and constant repression. It’s all internal and his resting bitch face isn’t helping.

Unnamed Primarch #2 - You got erased out of existence too.

Fulgrim - On everybody’s soul, especially Ferrus Manus’ it’s EVERYONE’S problem. Not even the Chaos Gods and Empy are safe! This man right here has so many unaddressed self-worth issues that he constantly feels the need to have someone to validate his acts of courting before even doing the thing. 

Perturabo -  Its everyone’s problem. Not unlike Fulgrim, Perturabo has so many unaddressed self-worth issues and feels the need for validation but unlike Fulgrim, its all out in the open. He’s already bitter about a lot of things and if he falls in love it wouldn’t be surprising if he’s already given up on pursuing that person. You’d be something he deems out of his reach, someone not even worth reaching because the rejection is in his mind guaranteed. He’s bitter towards you, loving hating everything you do and say. If you express any sort of positive reaction towards any of his gene-sons his ire towards that specific astartes worsens. The worst part? If your feelings towards Perturabo are reciprocated you’d have difficulty reaching him with him practically pushing you away. Please be patient with him, his heart is fragile.

Jaghatai Khan - Problem? There’s no problem! Genuinely, if this guy falls in love there wouldn’t be an issue because he’s in tune with his emotions and doesn’t have a penchant for skinning people alive (sorry Konrad). The closest thing this man would have to a problem when falling in love is the issue of courting. Chogoris courting norms involve matchmakers, families and of course bride-prices and dowries. If you aren’t from Chogoris he’ll try his best to follow the equivalent of/mix Chogorian traditions in courting. Either way, it’s less of a problem and more of a brief logistical headache at most. 10/10 would marry him tbh

Leman Russ - It's your problem.  He's enthusiastic about it and so is his entire legion. Thats a lot of wingmen and they're probably singing the Fenrisian equivalent of kiss the girl every chance they get. It's very endearing to be honest but the eagerness borders being overbearing.

Rogal Dorn - Dorn falling in love only affects 3 parties, you, him and his Iron Fists. Out of the 3 parties, Dorn falling in love is only disastrous to 2, the Fists and him. Dorn’s acts of affection are quiet, and if you aren’t aware of his affection these acts are easy to miss. It doesn’t help that a painted brick has more self-expression than this man. Pair that with not wanting to be improper this results in what he deems romantic and not lacking in proprietary  (He helped you landscape and design your garden). Now, the Fists come into play here by being Dorn’s feedback loop of ideas and internal turmoil that more often than not involves building things. The Fists don’t really mind but they are a bit miffed about fortifying your house or something when they could be something that they believe is more effective.

Konrad Curze - Its your problem and his problem. Look, this man is a murderous mess that's haunted by the visions of the terrible future if he falls in love he’d hate himself for doing so because it feels wrong. Positive emotions and experiences are foreign to him, so for Konrad love is something he feels he is entirely undeserving of and is just waiting for the ball to drop. In all honestly, he expects you to die or be the subject of his terrible visions so he immediately expects the worse and resigns himself to watching you from a distance. As this is all internal no one knows what’s going on with Konrad other than his usual Konradness so imagine the terror of being constantly watched by the Night Haunter with no clue on what drew his attention in the first place. 

Sanguinius - It’s his problem but he like all his problems its ignored and repressed. Sanguinius tries to deny the fact that he’s fallen in love for numerous reasons, including The Red Thirst and his impending doom. Also, a part of Sanguinius fears rejection, or at least a form of it. He’s beloved and he knows it but to be loved in the way that someone seeks to know all of him feels impossible. He is loved as an idol, a figure of all that is and could be good and that he’d come to accept. Being truly loved is a dream to him, a dream he holds close to his heart and something he’d take to his grave.

 Ferrus Manus - It's your problem because this man is like a rock. Feelings? What’s that? It’s not that Ferrus is unfeeling, in fact I feel like he’s one of the Primarchs who fall in love the easiest but when he falls in love he doesn’t know how to categorize that person exactly. He is fond, sure, but he can’t put a finger on how fond he is so he puts you in the my-favorite-people box with Fulgim. Basically,  he shoots himself in the foot early on by putting you in the friend zone without realising it. Good luck falling first with this guy, its slow-burn pining with a metal wall for you.

[absynthe-mind]

Leman Russ (Oneshot) - Wasting Away, f!reader

You're not eating as much as you should and Leman finds out... he's not too happy about it.

(Most of this was written between midnight and 5am so.... might be bad oops)

TW: food/eating difficulties, self esteem, bathing, hurt + comfort

Taglist: @druidwolf21 , @incrediblethirst , @bookandyarndragonwritesdark , @saintsylestine

“So you don’t want to be nice and plump for me?” Leman asks you with a hard gaze, his head sat in a single hand and questioning tilt to his head.

It wasn’t that you were against it, just that you’d been putting more effort into exercise, eating less, working on yourself - but no matter how you explained it, your husband didn’t care to hear your excuses.

He’d first noticed your stomach more toned, ribs peaking through, and the constant tiredness and lethargy that accompanied you these days. Fingers palmed over your abdomen and hips, squishing and clawing at them while he frowned down at you.

“My own wife, wasting away before me - what a terrible mate I must be”, he practically growls, eyes darkening, “how are you going to be strong enough to carry our pups if there’s no meat on your bones?!”

You’d never heard him with such genuine distress in his voice before as he pulled you into his lap and curled around you, blonde hair tickling the sides of your face as he tucked your head under his.

His grip was almost constrictive in how tightly he held you, breathing in deeply and inhaling as much of your scent as he could manage. It became overwhelming in how warm it was trapped in his embrace, heat, flesh and fur practically smothering you.

Before you could plead your case again the bed dipped backwards and the coldness of two giant wet noses pressed into your back making you squeak and squirm as the owners of said noses started nuzzling their way further into the snuggle pile.

“Freki, Geri…” you murmur, pulling a hand out to stroke the tops of the wolves heads as they butted their way in until the four of you were entangled in a dog pile - literally. 

Leman growled a little as they settled, ensuring he still monopolised the largest share of you to himself.

Once they’d properly established themselves around you, nudging themselves under you with little whines, Leman continued, “See? Even they know something is wrong.”

You respond with a long huff before speaking, “Leman -”

“No. No ifs, buts or excuses. You’ll be eating a plate fit for my Wolf Queen tonight and I’ll be keeping a close eye on you,” he interupts, his tone set with complete finality on the matter.

Not that it would stop you from trying.

You reach up, pulling him down to pepper kisses to his beard, moving up to his cheeks, even across the bridge of his nose and up to his forehead. He wasn’t as receptive as usual, normally drawing you into deeper, breathless kisses, especially while alone, but you could see his sullenness and grumpiness beginning to melt. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice though, my love?” you start softly.

He looks down at you, massively affronted all over again, “No. I do not think it would be nice to see you starved-”

It’s your turn to cut him off, pressing a finger atop his lips. Though there’s mostly righteous fury in his eyes, there’s a tiny, tiny sliver of amusement as you attempt to shush a primarch, and he lets you continue.

“Toned, not starved. Toned,” you state, as if that will make all the difference, “I’d be able to keep up better.”

There were many moments you could say Leman was feral.

Seeing him hunt down giant, ferocious beasts with his bare hands, chasing you through the woods and showing you the night of your life, even during the throes of a firefight. 

You’d never seen him feral like this before. 

His eyes blazed with incredulous anger, like you’d betrayed him, like he’d lost you to some invisible enemy.

All of his muscles were pulled taught, straining but impossibly still. 

“Toned.” he spat out, “I don’t care if you weigh more than a great wolf as long as you’re healthy and eating. You need some fat to be healthy, to protect all those squishy organs. To protect your muscles.”

You could have sworn his voice shook a little towards the end, wavering slightly. 

It brought up a great ball of guilt and shame in your throat, threatening to bring you to the edge of tears with him. 

His words soothed some part of you that you never wanted to talk about, or even acknowledge. You could never hope to keep up with him or his sons, but you felt behind even other baselines. 

Never good enough for yourself - let alone good enough for the mighty Wolf King. 

His pampering, his kindness and love for you had only softened you more, and as the years passed you saw your body change. You knew you weren’t a teen anymore, that your body would develop and grow - you knew even that a bit of fat was necessary, good for you, but you just couldn’t seem to tell your brain that as you looked in the mirror.

You knew he’d always love you as you were, but to see it so clearly on his face, the pain, the heartbreak, the love he held for you? Tears were rolling down your face before you could stop them.

They were hot, ugly tears that came flooding down in great torrents as you threw yourself head first into his chest, which he gladly allowed, his arms cradling you gently as he began to softly  whisper affirmations into your hair.

Your tears became hiccupped sobs, and Leman’s hands started gently trailing up and down your back, “that’s it, let it all out,” he whispered, and slowly his murmurs shifted to humming - an old Fenrisian lullaby you could barely remember the words to.

The tears didn’t stop completely, but you could feel them come to slow as you lay there, completely boneless with your face smushed into his chest, the hiccups slowly subsiding. 

It helped that Freki had leapt up with a yelp, paws digging into Leman’s thigh and started eagerly licking at your face and his chest, cleaning up the tears as fast as they came. You didn’t have the strength to shove him away, and your husband seemed quite content to let the assault continue. Eventually, a few laughs mixed into your sobs from the wolf’s attempt to cheer you - and enjoy a salty treat of course.

Meanwhile, Geri had pushed their muzzle into the only hand that wasn’t balled up on Leman, the downy white snout fur helping to ground you, along with the pur like rumbling they’d taken to producing whenever you got particularly upset.

At last, the tears ran dry, leaving you an achy mess with a pounding head. 

Leman’s soothing, however, didn’t stop until you spoke, “I love you so much.”

Your voice was quiet, tired and slightly rasped from all of the crying, perfectly reflecting how emotionally spent you felt. You didn’t want a lecture, or more guilt, you wanted your husband to bundle you up and make everything better.

Luckily, your husband seemed to know you better than yourself, to the point you might have accused him of being a psyker if you didn’t know of his almost venomous hatred for them. 

“I love you the most, little wolf,” and with that, he scooped you up, cradling you to his chest as he stood, much to the protest of Freki and Geri who whined at the loss.

His pace was slow and measured as he took you to the bathroom. He didn’t put you down or call a serf, instead personally drawing up a bath and adding in your favourite scented oils. 

Usually you only used minute amounts of scent, not wanting to overwhelm your husband’s nose or erase your natural scent, but Leman dumped in plenty, mixing until bubbles started to form as the water ran.

You were too exhausted to ask what he was doing as you left the bathroom together, heading over to the door. He poked half of his body out without exposing you, signalling to one of his sons posted at the end of the doorway with a single hand gesture, his other arm occupied holding you.

The Space Wolf nodded in return, and you could hear the soft thud of retreating boots as he brought you back over to the bathroom again, tub just over half way full now.

He sits down on the edge, gently undressing you in his lap, letting your robes pool at his feet before kicking them away.

For a moment you catch a glimpse of his expression souring again as he looks you over, but his face smooths back out into tender concern within the second. 

His face comes down to meet yours, pressing his lips to your forehead tenderly before lifting you into the filled tub.

The water was a perfect, blissful temperature and it only served to further relax your muscles. Leman held you steady in the water, allowing you to loll against him and doing all of the work for you. In fact, the only thing stopping you from falling asleep right then and there was how good your husband’s dexterous fingers felt as they washed and massaged every inch of you - even still your eyes were beginning to slip shut.

“Not just yet, love,” he says, lifting you out of the water.

The sharp cold of the air has you whining, reaching out for Leman’s warmth to take its place, but much to your chargain he holds you out. Only a second later and you’re being wrapped in a warm fluffy towel that was so huge it must have surely been one of his, but it allowed him to securely wrap you up in layers of fabric.

He finally deposits you on the bed, half propped against the headboard and heads to wait by the door. 

Freki and Geri pounce, quite literally, on the opportunity to snuggle you again, each coming around and creating a nest around you.

Leman has to peel them off as he returns to your side a few moments later, returning with a huge tray of food in hand. 

You want to resist as he picks up a handful of dried fruits, clearly intent on feeding you by hand. Something must show on your face that betrays you, because his face scrunches back into a frown and the hand that was coaxing you falls slightly.

“-m just tired…” you yawn out, curling into him and looking up at him through drooping eyes.

Leman relaxes somewhat, muscles loosening a fraction.

“Just a few mouthfuls,” he all but begs, “for me, little wolf?”

You can’t resist him, certainly not with the kicked puppy look on his face, and you dutifully part your lips a fraction.

The dazzling smile you get in return is worth it.

He spends the next few minutes feeding you little bits of fruit, meat, cheese and bread, washed down with sips of juice. You have to admit, it's incredibly tasty and sasiating, especially with the little nibbles you get in on your wolf’s fingers. 

Making him laugh and easing the worry off his face is more valuable to you than all the gold on Terra, and if eating healthily is what it takes to make him happy you suppose it’s not too dear a cost. That, and Leman feeding you was pretty great too.

“If you just wanted your big, strong mate to provide and feed you out of his hands, all you had to do was ask…” he teases lightly, his tone soft and just above a whisper.

You let out a good natured huff, but are far more relieved he’s happy enough to be making jokes. Any response you’d have made is instead cut off by a wide yawn that leaves your eyes even more bleary than before, and you’re not sure how much longer you can hang on for.

Leman takes note, putting away the tray and laying down himself before pulling you on top of his chest. It’s your favourite position to sleep in, sprawled out over his chest, you head lying just above one of his hearts, the warmth and rhythm lulling you into sleep.

“Rest now, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he whispers, rubbing your back softly, “... with breakfast.”

[green-square-anon]

[baldieboi]

I decided to try writing some Primarch x reader content. Here's my first try.

How each Primarchs would react when they hear about your (their wife) pregnancy?

Lion El’Jonson

The Lion would be stunned, his usually unreadable face betraying a flicker of disbelief. He’d question the logistics first. How could this happen, given his engineered nature? Once convinced it’s real then he’d become intensely protective, almost to a fault. He’d worry about his child inheriting his burdens (the secrets of Caliban, his own inner darkness).

He’d build a fortress of security around you, ensuring no harm comes to you or the child. He might struggle to express joy openly but late at night, he’d rest a hand on your belly, silently vowing to shield his family from the galaxy’s horrors. He’d also secretly dread being a distant father, fearing he lacks the warmth a child needs.

Fulgrim

Fulgrim would be ecstatic, seeing the pregnancy as the ultimate expression of beauty and creation. He’d view the child as a masterpiece in the making, a perfect blend of his and your essence and a testament to the heights humanity can achieve.

He’d shower you with affection, composing poetry and music for the unborn child. He’d design an exquisite nursery, obsessing over every detail to ensure it’s flawless. He’d talk endlessly to the child in the womb, promising to teach them art, grace and the pursuit of perfection while ensuring your every need is met with elegance.

Perturabo

Perturabo would be conflicted. Part of him would be overjoyed at creating something not meant for war while another part would fear failing as a father. He’d overanalyze the situation, worrying about the child’s safety in a galaxy of conflict and whether he can provide the emotional support they’ll need.

He’d build an impregnable nursery-fortress, complete with defensive mechanisms (just in case). He’d also craft toys and tools for the child, wanting them to inherit his intellect. He’d be gruff but protective, awkwardly trying to comfort you while hiding his own insecurities about fatherhood.

Jaghatai Khan

The Khan would smile broadly, seeing the pregnancy as a new journey to embark on. He’d be thrilled at the idea of passing down the traditions of Chogoris, viewing fatherhood as an extension of his role as a protector.

He’d take you on gentle rides across open plains (if possible), wanting you to feel the wind as he does. He’d tell stories of his homeworld to the unborn child, hoping they inherit his love of freedom. He’d also craft a small talisman for protection, a nod to his cultural roots.

Leman Russ

Russ would let out a booming laugh, sweeping you into a bear hug (gently, of course). He’d be over the moon, seeing the child as the start of his own pack. He’d boast to everyone about becoming a father, unable to contain his pride.

He’d insist on teaching the child the ways of Fenris as soon as they’re born, already planning mock hunts and survival lessons. He’d be incredibly hands-on, always near you to ensure your safety, and would probably howl at the moon in celebration when the child arrives.

Rogal Dorn

Dorn would be quietly stunned, processing the news with his usual calm demeanor. Inside he’d feel a surge of protectiveness and purpose: he now has something more personal to defend than the Imperium itself.

He’d design the most structurally sound nursery in the galaxy, ensuring it can withstand any threat. He’d be a steady presence for you, offering quiet reassurance rather than overt affection. He’d also begin planning how to instill discipline and honor in the child, though he’d worry about being too rigid.

Konrad Curze

Curze would be horrified at first, fearing his child will inherit his cursed visions or dark nature. He’d struggle with the idea of bringing life into a galaxy he sees as doomed but a small part of him would cling to hope that this child could be his redemption.

He’d become obsessively protective, lurking in the shadows to guard you from any perceived threat. He’d whisper grim lullabies to the unborn child, torn between warning them of the galaxy’s horrors and wanting to shield them. Fatherhood would be a battle between his darkness and his desire to be better.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius would be overwhelmed with joy and sorrow. He’d see the child as a beacon of hope, a chance to create something pure, but he’d also fear passing on the curse of the Red Thirst or foreseeing their suffering.

He’d be endlessly tender, cradling you and speaking softly to the child about a better future. He’d craft beautiful things for the nursery, wanting the child surrounded by light. He’d also pray to the Emperor to spare his child from his own burdens.

Ferrus Manus

Ferrus would be conflicted: part of him would see a child as a potential weakness, a distraction from duty, but another part would feel a surge of pride at creating life. He’d struggle to reconcile these feelings.

He’d approach fatherhood like a project, ensuring every need is met with mechanical precision. He’d craft cybernetic toys (perhaps too early), wanting the child to be strong. He’d be distant at first but would gradually soften, especially if you help him embrace the emotional side of parenting.

Angron

Angron would be overjoyed in rare lucid moments, seeing the child as a chance to build a family he never had. The Nails would make him fear his own rage, worrying he might harm those he loves.

He’d be fiercely protective, vowing to shield his family from slavery or harm. He’d struggle to be near you at times due to the pain of the Nails but in clearer moments, he’d sit with you, speaking softly of a life free from chains for their child. He’d rely on trusted warriors to guard you when he can’t trust himself.

Roboute Guilliman

Guilliman would be thrilled but immediately start planning. Fatherhood would be treated as a new campaign and he'd want to ensure everything is perfect for you and the child from resources to safety.

He’d create detailed schedules for the pregnancy, ensuring the best medical care and nutrition. He’d read every text on parenting (even writing his own Codex Paternis). He’d be supportive but overly formal at first, though he’d melt when feeling the baby kick, showing a rare vulnerable side.

Mortarion

Mortarion would be quietly moved, seeing the child as a chance to defy the suffering of his upbringing on Barbarus. He’d view fatherhood as a way to create a life untainted by the horrors he endured, though he’d worry about his ability to provide a gentle environment.

He’d be a silent guardian, ensuring your health with an almost obsessive focus on cleanliness and safety, fearing disease or poison might harm you or the child. He’d speak little of his joy but would stand watch over you, determined to protect his new family. He’d plan to teach the child endurance, wanting them to survive any hardship.

Magnus the Red

Magnus would be fascinated and overjoyed, seeing the child as a new mind to nurture. He’d be thrilled at the prospect of teaching them the wonders of knowledge and the Warp, though he’d worry about the inherent dangers of psychic power influencing them.

He’d surround the nursery with protective wards and spells, ensuring no psychic harm comes to the child. He’d talk endlessly to the unborn baby about the mysteries of the universe, eager to teach them. He’d be incredibly attentive to you, using his knowledge to ease your discomfort.

Horus Lupercal

Horus would be elated, seeing the child as an extension of his legacy and a symbol of hope. He’d view fatherhood as another way to inspire and lead, thrilled at the idea of shaping a new life with the same care he gives his Legion.

He’d be a doting husband and expectant father, rallying his Luna Wolves to celebrate the news. He’d spend time with you, sharing stories of his campaigns while promising the child a galaxy worth fighting for. He’d want to instill leadership and courage in them, preparing them to stand tall among humanity.

Lorgar Aurelian

Lorgar would see the child as a divine gift, a sign of the Emperor’s favor. He’d be overwhelmed with emotion, viewing the pregnancy as a sacred event that reinforces his faith in humanity’s purpose and his own role as a spiritual guide.

He’d write hymns and prayers for the child, wanting them to grow up steeped in belief and reverence for the Emperor. He’d be endlessly devoted to you, seeing you as a holy figure for bearing his child. He’d plan to teach the child the power of faith, hoping they’ll share his vision of enlightenment.

Vulkan

Vulkan would be overjoyed, tears of happiness in his eyes as he embraces you. He’d see the child as the ultimate expression of humanity’s worth, something to protect at all costs.

He’d craft beautiful, functional items for the child: cribs, toys, even tiny armor. He’d be incredibly hands-on, always near you to help with anything. He’d teach the child kindness and strength, wanting them to be a light in the dark galaxy.

Corvus Corax

Corax would be quietly moved, though he’d worry about bringing a child into a galaxy of war. He’d fear failing them as he feels he failed others but he’d vow to protect them.

He’d be a shadow around you, always watching for danger but rarely speaking his fears. He’d build a hidden, safe space for the child, wanting them to grow up free from oppression. He’d teach them independence, though he’d struggle to open up emotionally.

Alpharius/Omegon

They’d react with calculated curiosity, intrigued by the implications of fatherhood. They might even question if the pregnancy is part of a larger scheme (paranoia is their nature). Still, they’d feel a rare personal attachment.

They’d ensure the child’s safety through layers of secrecy and misdirection, hiding their family from any threats. They’d be unpredictable fathers, sometimes distant, sometimes surprisingly involved. They’d teach the child to question everything, preparing them for a life of intrigue.

[aggresivemenace]

Primarchs Who Are a Beautiful Mess in Bed

1. Mortarion

As already said, Mortarion is naturally sensitive - painfully so. Every touch is ecstasy to him, every brush of skin a storm in his quiet, restrained world. What makes it all the more intense is the fact that you are his first. Before you, he had never known the pleasures of the flesh.

In your arms, the grim and fearsome Primarch unravels - becoming something else entirely. A trembling, gasping youth with snow-white hair and a voice that quivers with need. He moans softly into your neck, utterly undone by your warmth, your kindness, your hands.

"Look at you…so tender in my arms," you murmur, brushing his damp hair from his face. "You can barely breathe, my love…"

He whimpers at your words, overwhelmed, helpless beneath your gentle touch - a beautiful, breathless mess clinging to you as if you were the only real thing left in a world long choked with poison and sorrow.

2. Leman Russ

At first, he is like a wild beast - a wolf claiming the she who belongs to him by right. His movements are rough, primal, driven by instinct and flame. You feel his hunger in every kiss, every grip of his powerful hands.

But then… something shifts. As he nears the peak of pleasure, the fierce wolf gives way to something softer - something startlingly vulnerable. A whining, whimpering pup emerges in his place.

Overwhelmed by the scents, the sounds, the sensations pouring from you, Leman loses himself completely. The growls are replaced by gasps and deep, open moans; his hands tighten around your body, not with dominance, but with desperate, breathless adoration. He clings to you like a drowning man to warmth - like a creature who has finally found home.

"Oh, Leman… my love, my beautiful wolf," you whisper, your voice trembling with affection.

He breathes heavily against the back of your neck, sometimes instinctively nipping at your nape, like a creature too full of need to hold back.

3. Perturabo

Intimacy never came easy to him. Beneath his cold precision and stoic command lies a fragile self-worth, worn thin by decades of being overlooked, underestimated, used. He strives for perfection in all things - and that includes you, and everything he does with you behind closed doors.

There is uncertainty in him, masterfully masked by iron pride and a sharp tongue. But when he stands naked before you - not as the Lord of Iron, but as a man - the cracks begin to show, if only faintly. He tries to hide them. Tries to stay composed.

But once your bodies join, the mask shatters. Sit astride his hips, ride him slowly, then faster — let your hands cradle his face as you move. Look into his eyes. Tell him how good he is. How much you love him. How his body, his cock, the way he touches you - it all drives you wild.

The moment is too much for him. That unbearable tenderness, the praise, the eye contact - it breaks him. Perturabo, who never bends, starts to whimper from a mix of pleasure and sweet, unbearable shame.

By morning, the Primarch of the Iron Warriors can barely tear himself away from you. He clings like a man starved for softness and finally allowed to taste it.

4. Lorgar Aurelian

There’s one thing Lorgar can scarcely admit even to himself: he absolutely adores sex. The Emperor gave him a burning, insatiable libido, and faith became one of the ways he tried to smother such “sinful” desire.

So when he’s with you, when you lie together in the quiet dark, every shared touch becomes something sacred - a reward, a holy rite, a private absolution.

"Light of my life," you whisper, straddling him, moving slowly as he lies beneath you - barely coherent, undone by sheer pleasure.

"My Lo…"

And at that, his eyes roll back in bliss - body shivering, soul unspooling - as he reaches his peak with a gasp that sounds like prayer.

5. Sanguinius

Sanguinius is a deeply tender creature - though over time, he learned to bury that tenderness, to lock it away beneath poise and grace. But with his beloved wife, he hides nothing.

Your intimacy is always preceded by long games of touch and tease, flirtation and whispered affections. Sanguinius becomes like a courting bird - full of beauty and pride, desperate to be pleasing. He wants to delight you, to earn every sigh and moan, to make you feel worshipped.

But it never takes long before that careful composure begins to slip. His eyes flutter shut, soft moans fall from his lips, and his thrusts grow desperate and erratic. The Great Angel gives himself to you completely - lost in the rhythm of your bodies, undone by the power you hold as a beautiful, sensual woman.

"Oh, Sanguinius! My little bird," you gasp, holding his neck close, your breath trembling against his skin.

6. Fulgrim

Fulgrim was made for beauty - he has known this since childhood. He strives for perfection in all things: in word, in gesture, in the way he kisses you. But this obsession with excellence also makes him fragile. To be perfect is to fear failure. Especially in bed. Especially before you.

Every act of love with him is a performance. He enters it with grace and intensity, like stepping onto a stage, hoping for applause. He wants to dazzle you, to conquer you, to be the one who steals your breath. He flirts, he touches, he acts out passion - but what he truly craves is not praise, but love.

And then you're together. His movements are precise, beautiful - for a time. But the longer you stay with him, the more the rhythm breaks down. His breath quickens, sweat beads on his brow, and his silken hair sticks to his neck. You whisper how beautiful he is. How you love him. How good he feels inside you.

"Oh, my star, my muse…please…more," he whispers, nearly sobbing from pleasure and unbearable bliss. His hips tremble, hands clutching at the sheets. He is no longer a lord, no longer a Primarch, but a man, shivering under your gaze.

With you, in your bed, Fulgrim forgets about perfection. He simply gives himself over - body and soul - trusting them into the hands of the woman he loves.

By morning, he buries his face in your chest, unable to pull away. Even Fulgrim, the epitome of beauty, is helpless before the power of your touch.

[thatnightlamp]

LEMAN RUSS NSFW ALPHABET

Tags: @incrediblethirst, @iluminatka16, @druidwolf21 , @imagineherbrightskies

A = Aftercare

At first, he’s terrible at it, growls, huffs, rolls over. But once you teach him, he’s shockingly doting. Wraps you up in thick furs, presses you to his chest, licks your neck lazily like he’s still claiming you, even after.

B = Body Part

Your neck. There’s something about the curve of your throat, how it arches when you moan, that drives him mad. He’ll mouth at it until your voice breaks.

C = Cum

Heavy, thick, and hot. When he finishes inside, you feel it, like a scalding brand of ownership. He loves watching it drip out, spreading your legs to see the mess he made.

D = Dirty Secret

He’s buried old furs and leathers that smell like you in his chambers. When you’re gone too long, he grinds his cock against them while biting down on a rag to muffle his snarls. If you found the stash, he’d go deadly silent, but wouldn’t stop you if you watched.

E = Experience

Plenty, mostly learned the hard way, through instinct and need. He doesn't know finesse at first, but he knows how to fuck. And he learns quickly what makes you writhe. Every growl, every grunt is a lesson retained.

F = Favorite Position

Any position where he’s behind you, on top of you. Bent over furs, pinned under his weight, taken from behind while he growls in your ear and pounds you into the bed. Bonus if your face is in his pelt and you’re gripping it for dear life.

G = Goofy

Yes. Surprisingly yes. He might snort if you make a joke, or nibble you in weird places just to hear you squeal. He’ll tease with that rough tongue of his, say “You’re a funny little thing, aren’t you?” then slam into you with a laugh.

H = Hair

Untamed and glorious. His body is coated in thick, coarse hair, especially his chest, arms, and thighs. His groin is sursprisingly tame, he trims and you swear he must have a comb for it. He smells like pine, blood, and snow-drenched fur. If you run your hands through his hair during sex, he’ll growl and rut deeper.

I = Intimacy

Rough and wordless, but deeply sincere. He doesn’t know how to say “I love you,” but you’ll feel it in the way he curls around you in bed, the way he touches your face with calloused fingers, and the way he chokes out your name as he finishes.

J = Jack Off

Rare. Russ is not patient. He’ll seek you out the moment his balls ache. But if he must, it’s fast, rough, and done with a growl of your name against his hand. He usually comes hard and then punches a wall from frustration.

K = Kink

Biting/Marking. Full wolf behavior—he bites you so everyone knows.

Breeding kink

Scent kink: He buries his nose in your hair, your thighs, your clothes. He can smell your arousal and will chase it like prey.

L = Location

Caves, snowbanks, hot springs, tents filled with furs. Anywhere wild and private. He loves fucking you under the stars, or deep in Fenrisian wilderness, where the only witnesses are beasts and snow.

M = Motivation

Your scent. The little noises you make. The way you look when you beg. If you ever crawl into his lap, teasing him, he’ll have you bent over a table within seconds.

N = No

Anything cold or sterile. Chains, restraints, drugs, or med-bay kink? Absolutely not. He mates by instinct, not by science. And he’ll snarl if anyone else touches you, even as a joke.

O = Oral

Receiving. He loves it. Growls, fists your hair, and thrusts gently against your tongue. May get too intense if you don’t hold him back. His cock is too big to take fully, but he loves watching you try.

P = Pace

Rough. Wild. Sometimes too fast. But he knows when to slow down, especially when you’re whining for it soft. His version of “gentle” is still enough to bruise.

Q = Quickie

Constant. He’ll bend you over a tree, pin you against a wall, drag you behind a tent. If he gets hard, and you’re alone, he’s going to take you. His favorite is pulling you onto his cock mid-hunt.

R = Risk

High. He’ll fuck you anywhere if he thinks no one’s watching. He has zero shame. He’ll try new things, especially if it makes you scream louder.

S = Stamina

Insane. You're not walking afterward. Can go five, six, even ten rounds if you taunt him. He doesn’t stop until you’re limp and leaking and broken in all the best ways.

T = Toys

None. His hands. His teeth. His cock. That’s it. If you ask for toys, he’ll try, but you’ll have to teach him. And he’ll grumble the whole time until he sees you moan, then he gets competitive.

U = Unfair

He’s not a traditional tease, but he loves watching you suffer on the edge. He’ll hold you down, lick between your legs without letting you cum, just so he can growl “Beg louder” in your ear.

V = Volume

Loud. Growls, snarls, panting, howling when he finishes. He doesn’t care who hears. You’ll know he’s close when the snarls soften into whimpers. He’s not ashamed of the sounds. They’re just as honest as his fists.

W = Wild Card

He tries to “court” you like an old Fenrisian legend. Leaves fresh kills outside your door. Crafts rough necklaces from bones. Challenges rivals by staring them down while touching your back. You don’t need to accept, but once you do, he will never leave your side again.

X = X-Ray

Enormous. Thick, hot, curved slightly upward. The base is almost too wide, more knot than cock. When he’s hard, the veins bulge like ridges, and precum drips freely from the slit. Your body has to adjust every time.

Y = Yearning

High. If you’re not in his bed, he misses you. He’ll rut into his palm thinking of your voice, your smell. When you’re gone too long, he gets moody, pacing like a caged wolf.

Z = Zzz

Falls asleep on top of you, his head on your chest or your back against his belly. He snores. Loudly. If you try to move, he growls and drags you closer. You don’t escape the den until morning.

[lemon-russ]

You know what ELSE no one asked for?

Space wolf orgy ✨ 180 from the earlier fluff. Because much like Wolf Mother, there are two wolves inside me-- dragged off by inquisitors

Two writings in one night? That's right I'm in such a fuckin mood and none of it is going towards work or asks 💖 (I'm sorry I will get to those lmao) Heavily inspired by @pluvio-tea 's magnum opus ❤️

Tags: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk, and thank you @squishyowl for the dividers as always ✨

Leman Russ (and more) X F!Reader

CW: Space wolf gangbang, piv, thigh fucking, the space wolves and Leman never do anything to each other but incest? Maybe? Straight up 1000% no plot smut, full on porb no stops

“L-Leman-!” You gasp, writhing in your husbands lap as you come again.

The Primarch growls an animalistic noise, palming your ass in his hands and bouncing you on his cock.

“Are- are you ready for another-?” He grunts. Your slicked pussy makes sticky noises as he pumps you onto him, stretching you to your limit.

“Yes-” you pant weakly. Your embarrassment is long dead, all your mind can grasp is the feeling of your cervix being bullied by the head of the Wolf King's dick.

He growls a happy noise, slowly raising you off him. Your body reluctantly separates from his, and his retreating cock is follwed by a gush of his seed.

You whimper, but you aren't left wanting long. One of the bloodclaws that have been watching the exchange, waiting patiently for their turn while their primarch warmed you up for them, takes you from Russ.

The handsome young spacewolf hasn't been in enough fights to have any scars on his face yet, a curiosity in the rowdy chapter. You don't have much time to think about it before he's grasping you under the arms and carefully lowering you onto his pulsing cock.

You mewl another noise as you're filled again- the bloodclaw is smaller than your husband, at least, and the stretch is a little less taxing on your poor overused hole.

He wastes no time, quickly bucking up into you, holding you with both hands completely circling your waist. He pants and grunts and growls, and it's almost jarring how quickly you're being thrust into. Your hands grasp the wolf's forearms to try and find balance.

Leman smiles a pleased look, watching his son use you. “Beautiful pup-” he grumbles happily, stroking his already recovering cock back to attention. “You are so good for the pack, you bring such calmness to the younger wolves.”

You can't respond through the gasping pants being ripped through you at the bloodclaw's violent thrusting. You're glad Leman warmed you up, or this may hurt.

Another bloodclaw whimpers and approaches, glancing at Russ for permission. The primarch nods with a fanged smile, and the bloodclaw decends on you. The first one is annoyed at the interruption, but when the new wolf seems content to press himself between your thighs, your bullride continues.

The new space wolf has a scarred slash across the bridge of his nose, which somehow makes him look cuter than otherwise. He curls around you, growling little noises of pleasure as you're pumped up and down by the first.

Your eyes roll back. The new bloodclaws cock pressed against your clit, causing the very fast thrusts of his compatriot to give your clit much needed attention. The shocks of pleasure make you whimper, and you feel your stomach curl as you're pushed towards another orgasm.

The first bloodclaw hilts suddenly. He pushes you forward, toppling you and the second wolf backwards. You end up laying on the stomach of the thigh fucking wolf with the one in your pussy suddenly slamming into you, holding you like a cocksleeve by the hips.

You cry out as you come weakly, body already so worn from Russ’ uses of you. You turn your head to see the primarch fisting his cock, eyes locked to yours with a pleased smile.

Your twitching orgasm is enough to push the bloodclaw over the edge, and he slams against your cervix as he pumps come into you.

You whimper as you feel it fill you again, and bury your face against the chest of the scarred wolf.

When the first bloodclaw finally pops out of your abused hole, the one you lay on takes the opportunity to push you upright. Confusingly, he doesn't have you mount him- instead, he puts his precum slick cock back between your thighs. You raise a brow as he positions your knees together and gets back to thrusting.

You moan again as the friction on your clit resumes, shaking from overstimulation. The bloodclaw pants, watching your face with a flushed face and mouth agape.

“I- just really like-” he grunts in a sweet but strained voice, “h-how your thighs look- in those d-dresses you wear, m-my Lady-”

Huh. Well, you can't argue with that, you suppose. Though you can”t argue with much as your mind blanks from the friction on your poor, swollen clit.

You're forced over the edge again, shaking weakly and groaning breathy noises as the space wolf paints both your stomachs in his cum.

He lets you rest, panting under you, and Leman scoots over to support your twitching body.

“How are you fairing, pup?” He asks huskily.

You make a meek noise, and he chuckles. He motions to one of the waiting bloodclaws, and they bring you a waterskin. Leman carefully helps you sip, picking you up and cradling you in his lap again.

“You're doing wonderful, love.” He praises, petting your hair as you gulp at the water.

You smile up at him, feeling the contented warm buzz through your body. “H-how… many more…?” You ask quietly.

He smiles so sweetly down at you. “Only 5 or 6 more to go now. You rest a moment, then we'll pick up where we left off.” He grumbles, voice thick with adoration. He kisses you on the brow and you sigh a bit.

“Well-” you chuckle tiredly, “better get back to it, then.”

[purplebutwarhammer]

I came up with some ideas for how a Primarchs wife would be titled by the legions and by the general public.

Legion mother is sort of a generic term across the board. For an example Astartes from different chapters would use Legion Mother with each other since it has no implications other than being their Primarchs wife, that and in official circumstances it’s considered their formal title, ie Corax’s wife would be introduced as Lady Corax, Legion Mother of Raven Guard.

This is not a full list since I’m not as familiar with some legions so I may make a part two one day

Night Lords:

Domina Nox

- Literally means ‘Lady of the Night’ but doesn’t have the same implications (although I’m sure the joke has been made, and the would be comedian is swiftly taught the error of their ways)

- Domina on its own can also mean ‘mistress of the household’ or just ‘wife’, however it can also be translated as ‘owner’. the legion probably wouldn’t use the shortened version in most cases, but Curze might recreationally.

The Dark Queen of Nostramo

- This would be mostly used by people outside of the legions and off Nostramo, for example a newspaper on Macragge might say “The Dark Queen of Nostramo today met with our ambassadors”. It’s a reflection of Curzes title that simultaneously recognises her as an equal to him but also makes a dig at what she represents. The kind of snarky wordplay politics loves

- It’s occasionally used by some Night Lords and Curze in a shortened form, ie “The Dark Queen requires our presence” or “My Dark Queen has no time for your foolishness, leave now before I present her with your head.”

The Mad Queen

- A term used exclusively amongst civilian populations and meant in an insulting to occasionally sympathetic manner. Usually it’s in reference to the fact she married and stuck by Curze even as he began to spiral, the juxtaposition between her more tempered manner and her continued enforcement of her husbands laws makes her seem unstable to the untrained eye.

- In the future when the true story has become blurred it’s used to refer to her much like an archetype from a play, a queen dragged down into her husband’s madness and driven to extremes. It’s said in a hushed saddened tone that conveys a warning about following in her footsteps and what love can drive a person to.

White Scars:

Khatun

- This one’s fairly obvious, it’s the title given to a Khans wife. I can imagine many of the White Scars would use “The Great Khatun” when in conversation with others, both as a show of respect and to remind others to mind how they speak when she’s the topic of discussion.

Dark Angels:

Lady El’Johnson

- Lady ‘first name’ was typically used for wives of Knights, and I can see this being the norm of Caliban but off planet surnames are more of the norm for formality.

- It would also play into the Dark Angels penchant for secrecy, only on Caliban and amongst trusted company would their Legion Mother be Lady ‘First Name’ in any other situation it’s Lady El’Johnson

The Lioness

- This one is a little more tongue in cheek and largely used amongst the Primarchs to refer to their sister in law and some of the other legions in recognition of her ferocity.

Mistress of the Knightly Orders of Caliban

- This one is a formal title used mainly on Caliban and formal events on Terra when her arrival is being announced. The Lion specifically created the title as recognition of her station and to give her rank amongst the legion so her authority isn’t only seen as an extension of his.

- It gives her domain over the ‘womanly’ tasks of the order, acquisition of food, clothing, and maintenance of household. Essentially the entire homefront falls under her command, and her authority on these matters often outweighs that of her husbands.

- The largest part of this is overseeing and organising the serfs for the entire legion, it’s mainly just the ones serving on Caliban but any major changes throughout the entire legion have to go through her first.

Space Wolves:

Wolf Mother

- Another self explanatory one, she is the Space Wolves mother so she is ‘Wolf Mother’. I like to think that on their wedding day Leman gifted her a wolf pelt to wear which became a trademark of her appearance.

Frue Russ

- Frue was the title given to a Jarls wife, I see this as being what the citizens of Fenris would call her instead of anything like queen.

- I’ve seen mixed sources that say Frue was specifically for a wife who owned land in her own right, but I’m not 100%. I can see Lemans wife as someone who can lead in her own right so bringing her own land and people into the marriage wouldn’t be far fetched

Ultramarines:

Lady Guilliman

The Lady Ultramar

- I’m going to group these two together since they’re both fairly generic, they’re the kind of on paper titles that get the point across

The Imperial Regent Consort

- This is after Guilliman becomes Regent and naturally his wife gets a title to match, it’s wholly an invention of Terra and only sees use from them and other Imperial citizens outside of the Ultramar sector.

Augusta

- Historically it’s Roman title given to empresses of exception that allowed them to wear imperial regalia and hold their own court.

- I imagine that Lady Guilliman can do all of this and more and so is given the title to match, she’s another who I think manages the ‘home’ whilst her husband is away on campaign.

Mater Ultramar

- ‘Mother of Ultramar’, similar to the Roman title for the empress ‘Mater Patriae’, may be called Mater for short informally by some Ultramarines but this is usually an indicator of dire circumstances or moments of great strife when the boys in blue just want their mum.

Salamanders:

Forgemother

- I assume that Vulkans wife would know her way around a forge, and I like to think she makes little trinkets for the Neophytes to put on their first set of armour

Lady of Drakes

- Matches her husband and would usually be used as a formality on Nocturne, like when she’s being introduced at an event.

Raven Guard:

Raven Mother

- This one would be used by legionnaires when speaking to Lady Corax directly ie “Raven Mother, we have news from The Shadow of The Emperor.”

- The civilians of Deliverance would also use it when referring to her to others ie “The Raven Mother is holding an event later”

The Shadowed Lady

- She doesn’t command the shadows as her husband does but is protected by them just the same, shadows can often be seen draping over her like a cloak when in her husbands presence.

- This would also be the name used to refer to her in Corspake and other semi coded communications.

Word Bearers:

The Madonna

- This would be in the religious sense (not like the singer). Especially after the heresy the Word Bearers come to idolise their Legion Mother as the perfect woman. Sermons are given on how all wives and mothers should strive to emulate her.

[nightscythe]

I didn’t realize I’m not the only person on the planet who wants to bone big men in power armor. That said, we all know Big E totally didn’t do anything weird with their genes, right? Right? Leman and Horus have a knot and no one can tell me otherwise.

i gaslighted myself for over a year into thinking no one else wanted to bone the large space men. don't worry. i thought about this in far to much detail. now seems like an opportune time to say i have never ever written about knotting before. but a friend of mine used to talk about it everyday when we were in sixth form. she was obsessed, so hopefully i captured her spirit

nsfw 18+, pre-heresy, unprotected sex // i threw another one into the mix. emps never would do anything weird, especially not to his sons

leman

he didn't mean to. but, throne, he loves you so much. his usual composure is lost when you're around, he's so desperate to be around you, with you, in you, that it's evitable. when he's got you undressed, when he's trying to be gentle, his hands are trembling and his body burns, your scent fills every one of his senses and refuses to let him go. his fingers sink into your flesh so easily, you fit against him perfectly - it was a match made by fate itself, wasn't it? it would never take long. he's behind you, your back arched, knees apart like the good little thing you are. you'd barely have time to adjust to his size before he starts to swell inside of you, your soft, velvety walls coaxing him into more. he snarls, shakes, growls as he feels it. i can't... his voice breaks as pushes his swollen cock inside of you. he's gasping. he's thinking of nothing other than you, how he needs you every day, in every way so fucking badly. i need... fuck... you're so... his growls turn soft. he whimpers, wounded, unravelling. his words are a mess and voice is barely considered a breath. love you, he croaks, his weight becoming apparent above you. fuck, i love you. he's so affectionate when he's a panting mess. he's so enamoured by you it may be hard to believe. fucking you is so much more to him than sex. so when it locks, when he's whining and groaning as he fills you, he's already thinking about more. he's above you, you're still full, but he's still aching for more. one slow thrust forward, sinking his knot deeper inside. his arms are around you, his breath is hot on your shoulder and you can feel his body twitching. one more? he pleads, begs, enthralled by how you milk him, never quite believing that you wanted him half as much as he needed you. i can't let you go. he means it. he's so drunk on the feeling, he thinks he'll lose you forever if he does.

horus

he's obsessed with you. possessive. utterly devoted. it's rough with him; always intimate, like you're drowning in him. he's so stuck on the idea of you being only his that sex is a ritual. so knotting? it's the next step. its something he plans, trains you for. makes you need it just as much as he does, crave the feeling of his knot swelling inside of you to the point you're begging him for it. for weeks. waits until your body aches for him, until you're laid out before him, sobbing and and pleading on your knees. all for him. one hand is around your throat. the other holds your hip. he fucks you like he's not had you with him for months, rocking his hips into you with a hunger that went further that just feeling. mine, he mutters, over and over. his hips stutter when he starts to feel it. he forces himself to stop so he can hear you say it. say you need to feel it. say you need to be knotted like a good little pet. when you do, he grins. he growls. holds you down as he fucks you harder. you take me so well. he can't take his hands off you. his teeth graze your soft flesh, his lips kiss you like its worship. for a second, he's vulnerable, his head dipping so his forehead rests against you as he prays that the universe would be so kind to let him have this forever. ruins you with his cock like it was his sole purpose. he's so absorbed in the feeling, in having you come again and again around him, that he doesn't even realise he's close until the last second. his body holds you down as he comes. its the only time you will ever hear him moan, his gruff and masculine exterior taken for just a second. no one else, he breathes, ragged and exhausted. no one other than me, yeah? he holds you after. he's so sensitive, he squeezes his eyes shut every time he feels you squirm, exhales sharply when he realises you're a complete mess over him. he commits the image to memory. it will get him through the worst of times, knowing he'd have you sitting here so patiently waiting for him. mine forever, aren't you? it's not a question. he tells you how perfect you are, how no one could ever make him feel like this other than you. no one had him other than you. he'd do anything to feel this at the end of every agonising day. don't leave me. ever. don't even think about it.

angron

he's never slow. yet when it came to you, he'd hesitate. especially with your heart. he struggled to come to terms with your feelings for him, let alone his own. the way you look at him is always what sets him off, those innocent eyes that search for him, the way your lips curl into a smile when you find him and you always tell him you love him. but there's another step after that, an entirely new stage. one where you look at him with the silent beg of how badly you want him, because you're his and always will be, because nothing will ever compared to him, and that's something he can never come back from. he holds you. your body's pressed against the nearest wall, one of his hands grasping both of yours as the other spreads your legs. he'd stop to appreciate them if he hadn't lost all sense of discipline. do you know what you do to me? he questions, words hissed. you can feel the way his hands start to shake, but he never lets go. how you make me want to ruin this precious body of yours? he's panting as his cock slips into you, hips stuttering, his teeth sinking into you and just scratching the surface of drawing blood. he leaves no part of you untouched. so good for me, aren't you? you can feel his cock in your throat. he's everywhere. no control, no sense, just the feeling of you embracing every one of his senses as he groans, roars, leaves the sound reverberating in your ribs. made for me, he growls, ready for me to break every time. the hand that isn't restricting you is teasing you. pleasuring you, wherever he knew you liked it best. he always remembered. you can give me more. i know you can. cry for me. let me see it. your sounds break him, send him down a spiral there's no return from. he shudders when it locks, holds onto you like you were the last thing keeping him alive. he's seething as he fills you. his cock, aching swollen, throbs, his body shakes, he holds you in place and never wants to let go of you. don't leave, he plead, never meaning just this moment. tell me you're mine, always. he keeps his arms around you, your back pressed against his chest, but he's a touch softer. say it, he continues, eyes closed as he listens to you breathe, say you're mine. hearing those words never gets old to him. he starts to feel the metallic taste on his lips, the tears threatening to spill, and he's reminded that salvation only comes from death, or from you.

wanted to post this earlier but i was ambushed by a wasp. neighbour has a nest directly opposite to my window. very fun. anyway, this hurt me in a good way

[diabolicalevil]

Since hc reqs are open, what kinds of flirting/courting tactics work best for the primarchs? Like what is the one thing you could do to make each of them blush and stammer like a schoolgirl. (Lowley w Dorne I feel like if you compliment his fortress constructions he's a gonner.)

(Love your take on the primarchs btw, theyre always very fun to read. Thank you so much for your hcs!!)

What flirting works best on the Primarchs?

OH THIS IS FUN I'm glad u enjoy my headcanons I lovee making them. I honestly can't imagine a lot of these guys blushing maybe those r my own demons but this is mostly things they're into. I continue to stay silly

Warnings: none

Lion El'johnson: it's not necessarily flirting but needing him is very attractive to him. if you overtly ask for him depending on your stage in the relationship he'll be a shit about it but he does want you to be almost helpless without him. sure, you don't need him specifically to help you with that but he likes it when you act like you do.

Fulgrim: likes traditional flirting, shocker. winks across the room, innuendos, intentionally brushing against him, all that, but he especially likes it when you act coy about it. you sicken everyone around you please think of ferrus manus he's suffering

Perturabo: compliments of his work and dunking on his idiot sons are attractive to him. however he, being stupid, has not put 2 and 2 together that not accepting a compliment and causing a problem leads to less compliments. maybe he'll figure it out one day.

Jaghatai Khan: not only going along with his misadventures but suggesting them. he is one of the least accepting of your status as a baseline for the simple fact he wants you with him while he rides

Leman Russ: an earnest and sincere interest in running and protecting his legion alongside him

Rogal Dorn: non sexual power play, or just ordering him around. telling him to sit, stand, kneel, turn around etc and having him do it immediately. he's pledged his loyalty to you as a lover and a servant. also ☝️ reprimanding him. praising and compliments go into this pretty nicely

Konrad Curze: looking into his eyes directly without fear or hesitance

Sanguinius: biting HIS lip. while you're kissing I mean. he laughed, mainly out of embarrassment, the first time it happened but regularly tries replicating that scenario so you do it again

Ferrus Manus: banter. aside from fulgrim he's so used to stone faced, highly logical and efficient talking men that often when you give him a bit of cheek and tease him he folds

Angron: fighting back, or putting him in his place rather. generally likes it when you fight him, he feels less like a gun poised to kill you that way. but being command to sit down and shut up does it for him

Roboute Guilliman: physical flirting. he's a very sensible man who can handle what you throw at him. with the exception of randomly groping, stroking, fondling etc him. doesn't even have to be sexual I'm afraid. hes just like that

Mortarion: god what doesn't make him (internally) blush. he's starved for attention. throw a rag and tell him to fetch it for a kiss I don't know man

Magnus: very hard to catch him off gaurd or fumble him but it's possible. usually challenging his intellect gets a one way trip to the warp but, to an extent, he enjoys back and forth with you. posing a question he hadn't thought of or pointing out a flaw in his thinking etc

Horus Lupercal: banter also, but it has to go on for a while until you get a fatal hit on him. afterwards he's visibly trying to hold it together until he gets a moment to pull you aside

Lorgar Aurelian: another one who desperate needs to be told what to so. but. specifically he has a foot fetish I'm sorryy. you told him to take off your shoes for you and he floated towards you like a pie on a window sill anyway moving on

Vulkan: horrendously sappy man so telling him you love him or something. he knows you do and he himself says it all the time but god does it kill him to have you whisper it sweetly

Corvus Corax: holding his hand and pulling him to your side

Alpharius/Omegon: I don't think you could ever truly catch them off gaurd but you could entertain them. they like games and puzzles and quizzes with their flirting. it's enrichment. if u give them a really good one you get to be sandwich filling

okkii this was a fun one, hope u like it anon and I didn't stray TOO far from the vision

[druidwolf21]

HIIII LOVE YOUR WRITINGS! But I wonder how would the primarchs cuddle the reader?

AAHHH THANK YOU!! 🥺

You wanna know how they cuddle do ya?

We'll hopefully you like this!

A/N: are some of these out of character? Absolutely

Did I want to make this whole thing fluffy

ABSO FRIGGIN LUTLEY

Some of these are longer than others simply because I don't write the characters too often!

Cuddles with the primarchs

Lion El'johnson.

"Come here"

Your breath caught in your throat as lions deep voice rumbled through your chamber. He sat slouched in his chair, emerald eyes trained on you with each small step you took towards him.

"Yes, my lord?"

The primarch continued to watch silently as you stepped closer, before swiping out and grabbing your wrist. You yelped as he hauled you into his lap and buried his face in the crook of your neck, wrapping his great arms around you and holding you close to him. His breath was warm on your neck as he inhaled your scent and you laughed, wiggling your arms free to loop them around his neck and run your hands through his golden hair.

"If you wanted me to hold you, you just have to ask" you cooed, tilting your head allowing him to nuzzle into your collar.

"If I want to hold you, I will" Lion huffed, grumbling slightly and you fell into a warm silence. Straddled across his lap, you combed your fingers through the silken strands as he squeezed you to his chest.

"Of course, my Lion~"

Fulgrim

"Now where do you think you're going?"

You giggled as Fulgrim gripped your waist and hauled you back onto the bed with him, pulling you flush to his bare chest he wrapped around you. Silvered hair tickled your neck as he kisses over your cheek.

"Fulgrim stop we need to get ready"

The primarch felt hot as he hugged you closer, mumbling into your neck.

"They can wait, let me hold you just a little longer~"

Resignation set in and you sighed, scooting yourself backwards to press against him. His lips turned up in a smirk as he kissed along your throat.

"5 more minutes my sweet, then I promise we will get up"

Perturabo

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Perturabo stood over you, leering down as you glared back at him.

'Did you think I wouldn't see that stupid face you were pulling? Trying to catch Dorn's attention?"

His scowl deepened when you rolled your eyes and waved him off.

"I was not making faces at Rogal Dorn, you're being ridiculous"

Barking laughter broke from him as he took a knee and grabbed your chin, pulling you to face him.

"Am I not enough for you?"

Perturabos voice was harsh as he spoke, but staring back at him you saw his eyes soften and his lips twitch, insecurity threatening to claw its way through the rage and boil and the surface.

"You are" you relented, reaching up to cup his face. "You're always enough"

His grip on your chin released as you wrapped your hands around his neck. Large hands found your waist and pulled you close, lifting you off the floor and clutching you to his chest.

"You're ridiculous" you sighed, kissing his cheek as he held you.

"If you ever do it again-"

Perturabo trailed off, squeezing you slightly as he spoke.

"I know. I know"

Jaghatai Khan

"It's freezing out here!"

You curled up against the Khan's broad chest as you sat precariously on the jet bike, hugging the chassis with numb fingers.

Jaghatai chuckled and leant over you, flicking the engine off with an easy movement. The roar of the engine cut instantly, but heat continued to radiate through the metal.

"It is not so bad" he laughed as you pressed your cheek to the rapidly cooling engine cover.

"Not for you, you're super human. I am just a normal human"

The Primarch hummed and reached down, prying your fingers off the bike. "come here then"

"No no no, it's warm please just let me warm up"

You whined as he pulled you from the heat and watched with wide eyes as he unbuttoned his coat, popping the front open to reveal his broad scarred chest.

"Come here"

He spun you and pulled you against him, wrapping the dense fur around you and pressing you to his bare skin. The difference was immediate, heat radiating through you.

"Better?"

You lent your head back, grinning as colour began to return to your cheeks. His chest vibrated beneath you when you nuzzled back beneath the jacket and he laughed, cupping your back with his hand.

"Oh yeh, much better"

Leman Russ

"Down! Get down!"

2 pairs of eyes gleamed at you as you struggled to rise from the bed, held flat against the mattress by a thick layer of fur and a mass of muscle on top.

"Freki, Geri, get down! I have things to do I can't stay in bed all day"

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, wheezing and collapsing back down when a massive paw slammed into your chest followed by the wet drag of a hot rough tongue along your cheek.

Both wolves stood over you, ears pricked and tails wagging softly as they stared at you with vivid amber eyes whilst Freki's clawed paw rested on your stomach.

"Look I promise we can cuddle later, but I seriously have work I need to do-"

"Wolves don't bargain, they take what they want"

Leman's voice was rich and heavy with laughter as he stepped towards the edge of the bed shrugging a heavy furred cloak to the floor.

"I'm very quickly learning that"

He chuckled, reaching over the scruff his hand across the top of Freki's head.

"Alright enough, off"

With a low whine, the weight on your body lifted as the wolf released you, stepping back and settling on his haunches next to his brother towards the bottom of the vast bed. You sat up and groaned, stretching the ache from your back and watching as leman sat on the edge, pulling his snow trodden boots off and tossing them aside.

"Thank you, honestly I wish I could stay in bed but I have to UUFF-"

you promptly found yourself sprawled in your back again as leman lay next to you and rolled over, pinning you beneath a muscled arm.

"Are you serious! I have things to do! And you do! You're a primarch you can't spend all day in bed"

Russ grunted, pulling you toward him.

"Fenris is cold, little one. I'd hate for you to freeze"

He opened one icey blue eye and grinned.

"besides, didn't I just say you can't bargain with wolves"

Your retort was interrupted as, with an excited bark, the two wolves launched themselves towards you, sliding against your back and pressing into your legs as they curled up around you.

"Fine. Five more minutes"

Rogal Dorn.

"Rogal"

"...."

"Rogal"

"....."

"Roooogaaaaaallllll"

The praetorian sighed and dragged his hand down his face before looking over at you.

"Yes?"

"I'm bored"

He stared at you blankly, pen hovering over the diagram on his desk midway through writing.

"You interrupted me to tell me you are bored"

You nodded, smiling softly as he sighed again, tossing the pen aside and leaning back in his chair.

"You realize I have work to do? Important work"

"I know. But you've been doing it for ages, I think you need to take a break"

Steely eyes softened slightly as you stepped towards him and sat on his knees, leaning your back against his chest.

"I'm almost done" he muttered, placing a large palm on your waist and tracing a small circle into your skin with his thumb

You sat propped against him, dozing in his lap listening to the bellow of his lungs and the soft scratch of ink on parchment. His hand stayed present on your hip and his lips pressed gentle kisses to the crown of your head as he worked, enjoying the quiet companionship as he held you close.

You opened your eyes, blinking sleep from then as you looked around. The candles had burned low and the ink had long since dried on the schematics littered across the desk. You felt firm arms wrapped around you and you slid your head up, along the thick fabric of his shirt.

"Hey" he whispered, smiling slightly.

"Hi" you snuggled back down, relaxing into his arms as the last of the candle wick burnt down to cinders.

Konrad Curze.

"You're so small."

"Compared to you I am"

"And soft"

You leaned back and frowned at the night haunter, untangling yourself from his long arms with a scowl.

"Remember when we talked about things that sound good in your head, but are weird when you say them?"

"Yes"

"Yeh that's one of those things"

Curze flashed a grin, bearing jagged fangs as he pulled you back towards him. Hunched over in a dark corner in the bowels of the ship, the sound of ceramite and bellowing astartes was muted beneath tons of iron and the roar of engines.

"But you are. You are soft."

You conceded with a low huff and a roll of your eyes, allowing him to pull you back into his lap. In the darkness, you felt his hands run along your arms and his lips press to your temple, blind to everything except the flash of sharpened teeth. In the belly of the nightfall where light faltered and the noise was faint, Curze held you close, savouring the feel of your warmth against his bare skin.

"You are small and warm and soft"

He shook slightly as he clung to you, grounding himself and inhaling your scent.

"Soft and warm and so so fragile"

Sanguinius

"I'm sorry, I can't right now"

Sanguinius brushed past you into the room, tossing his cloak to the side. You gathered his cloak, struggling under the size and weight as you dragged it off the bed. You stilled as the heavy scent of iron hit your nose and a flash of scarlet across the fabric drew your eye.

Draping the material across a chair, you sat on the edge of the bed watching and waiting.

The angel stood near the window, the vast view of bhaal stretching out behind the frosted glass as he scrubbed his hands in a basin, the water slowly turning red. Tension was thick across his body, his shoulders stiff and wings puffed. He ran a soft towel across his hands and tossed it aside with a hiss.

"Sanguinius"

He glanced over his shoulder at your voice, watching you intently as you straightened the bed sheet before patting it.

"Sit. Please?"

With a heavy sigh, Sanguinius stepped over towards you and fell to the mattress, your body lifting as his weight hit the bed.

"Lay back"

Staring at you for a moment, he reluctantly slid backwards, spreading his arms wings across the silken sheets as he lay on his back with his legs hanging off the edge.

You shuffled, pressing yourself against him as you snuggled up to his side. Using his chest as a pillow, you ran your hand along the wall of muscle, tracing small shapes along his stomach.

After a moment, his own hand lifted and his finger trailed along your shoulder before gripping you and pulling you on top of him.

"Rough day?" You mused, pressing your ear against his pecs to listen to the dual beat of his hearts.

"Indeed"

"It's over now"

Sanguinius sat up suddenly, straddling you in his lap as his wings wrapped around you, shielding you both.

"yes. It's over now"

Ferrus manus

"What is this?"

"Not something you should be touching"

"what about this?"

Ferrus reached over and yanked the tool from your grip, placing it back on the table.

"It is not for you"

Rolling your eyes you folded your arms, pouting as the primarch continued to focus on his work.

"Ferrus'"

Silver eyes flicked to you before returning to the tools.

"Ferrus!"

With a growl he slammed the item down, rattling the worktop as he spun to you.

"What"

"You're the one who asked me to come here, so why are you ignoring me"

Ferrus Manus pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling and taking a deep breath before replying.

"You wanted to see my work, this is my work"

You softened, unclenching your arms. You had complained he left you alone too often, forgoing the limited time you had together to ticker in his workshop. You hadn't realized this was his attempt and making an effort.

"I know" you stepped towards him. "Im sorry"

Ferrus nodded, turning back to the table before pausing. With a grunt he lifted you, setting you down on a large stool near his worktop.

Stepping behind you he lent over your shoulder, his breath hot against your cheek as he spoke. Taking your hands, he moved them over each item on the desk.

"This is used to augment the cardiac valves in the astartes to ensure maintained pressure output from their heart."

He moved your hand to another device and his lips moved to your neck.

"This lens allows for increased optical resolution when sniping"

"and what's that?"

He scoffed, lips twitching against your throat.

"That's a screw driver"

"Oh"

He released your hands, placing his own metallic palms around your waist.

"Don't worry, you'll learn"

Angron

"Deep breath"

You knelt in the bunk as the primarch rested his head on your thighs, eyes crunched shut in pain. Running your hands along his cheeks and temples you slowly worked your fingers through the tense muscle.

"It's ok, I'm here"

Angron's teeth ground against each other as another wave hit him, the nails biting deep and flooding his body with rage. You moved along his jaw and down his neck, wincing as the muscle spasmed beneath your touch.

"You should go" he spat, wincing up at you.

"No it's ok"

The primarch head jerked and his fingers clenched at the sheets as another wave hit him.

"Im here, I've got you"

Angron's body shook and he snarled, spit flying from his jaw

"Why? Why do you stay. I could kill you"

"But you won't"

"I can't hold you" he whispered, twitching as he fought the nails.

"But I can hold you"

You bent over, cupping his cheeks as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"I'll hold you as long as you need"

Roboute guilliman

"Roboute?"

Guilliman blinked up at you as you stepped into his office, a large steaming mug gripped in both hands.

"I thought you'd still be working, so I bought you this"

You stepped up to his desk, sliding the recaff across the surface and smiling sadly at him.

"You should take a break, you're exhausted"

He shook his head, dragging a hand through his short crop of blonde hair before taking a large swing of the coffee and wrinkling his nose.

"Is there sugar in this?"

You shrugged. "you need your energy"

Reclining back in the massive chair, guilliman puffed out a heavy breath and gestured over the forms across the table.

"I'll finish these and then come and join you a little while ok?"

Shaking your head you clambered up onto the desk, sitting on the forms and missives as you placed yourself directly in front of him.

"Come here"

You spread your arms wide and waited. Roboute cocked a brow at you before sliding his chair forward. You took his head in your hands and pulled it towards your chest.

"what are you-"

"Shhh"

You held him there until the tension began to leave him, the weight of his head becoming heavy in your hands as he slowly began to relax. He wrapped his own arms around your waist and nuzzled against your chest.

"Better?"

"Better"

Mortarion

"You should see this mortarion!"

You lent against the guardrail, staring out of the port side window of the endurance as it floated in orbit around the green planet.

"I've seen it"

"No really, it's beautiful!"

You heard the heavy wheeze behind you before you felt his presence.

"Look! Isn't it amazing!"

You leaned over further, pointing out through the glass.

"Be careful" he coughed, cold hands gripping into the back of your shirt. "It's a long way down if you fall"

You flashed a grin at him over your shoulder, catching the twitch of the mask on his face as he smiled back.

"I'm not scared, besides if I did fall I'm sure you-"

Creeeaaakk SNAP

As if on cue, the railing snapped. You floated for a split second, still gripping the split railing as your eyes turned down to see the control deck far below. Air rushed around your face and you opened your mouth to yell.

Suddenly you were yanked backwards, Harshly tossed to the floor as mortarion stood over you, eyes wide and body tensed.

"What did I tell you?"

Before you could reply, the pale king dropped to his knees and hauled you against him, one cold hand clutched to the back of your head as the other dug into your back.

"Be careful" he hissed, coughs wracking his body as he fought the panic that had risen so suddenly.

Mortarion froze as you slowly lifted your arms and wrapped them around his neck, pressing your face into his collar.

"Thank you"

Magnus

Magnus lounged on the large chaise, one leg kicked up against the cushion and the other propped on the floor as he flicked through the tome in his hands.

"Magnus?"

He paused, looking up from the page as you staggered into the room rubbing your eyes.

"Yes? What's wrong?"

"I woke up and you were gone" you whispered. "I was worried"

He cocked his head, red locks falling about his face and sympathetic smile as he spread his arms wide.

"Come here, little one"

Still blinking sleep from your eyes you shuffled forward, falling face down across his chest and sprawling across him, tangling your legs around his.

"What are you reading?"

"Would you like me to read it to you?"

Magnus placed a large hand on your head, soothing you as he spoke.

"In the age of man, before the imperium-"

Horus lupercal

"well aren't you a sight for sore eyes"

You laughed, sprinting towards the warmaster as he pushed his way into your chambers

"Horus! I missed you!"

He chuckled as you flung yourself towards him, easily lifting you so you could cling to his neck, peppering his cheek with kisses.

Carrying you with him, he perched himself on the edge of your bed, falling backwards and rolling to pin you beneath him.

"I was so worried! I heard you were injured"

"Greatly exaggerated tales" he mused, pressing his forehead to yours.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead he sat back upright, draping his heavy fur around you and pulling you to his side.

"Luckily Chaplain Erebus was able to help me before things got too out of hand"

You snuggled against his side with a contented sigh, enjoying the feeling of his strong hands holding you tightly.

"I'm glad, it sounds like he looked after you"

"Indeed. All is well"

Lorgar aurelian

Lorgar sat on his knees before you. wide eyes and lips parted, he stared at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"My love, my love" he whispered, over and over as you ran your hands over his shaved head and cheeks.

"Yes, I'm here lorgar"

He rested his head in your lap, closing his eyes with a blissful sigh as you danced your fingers across his skin.

"Hold me" he cooed, tilting his jaw to meet your fingers. "Bless me with your touch"

"Let me embrace you, lorgar" you hummed, your voice distorted as the world flickered around you.

"Yes, embrace me"

"Join me, Lorgar... Forget the imperium... And join me"

Vulkan

"You are welding that incorrectly"

You threw the hammer down, sweaty and irritated as once again the dagger warped in the heat. Vulkan laughed, watching you throw you hands up exasperated.

"It takes time to get this right, don't get angry"

"That's easy for you to say!"

Turning your back to vulkan, you stamped your tooth and seethed. Glaring at the glowing forge you kicked and the anvil, hissing when pain shot through your foot.

"Take a breath"

You stiffened as vulkan knelt and wrapped his arm around you from behind. The heat of the workshop was nothing compared to the furnace of primarch that pressed his weight against you.

"you'll get there" he whispered against your ear, gently stroking your arm.

"I know"

"Now try again. this time, like this" he slid his hand from your hip, up to your shoulder and along your arm, gripping your wrist and flexing it"

"got it?"

"Got it"

Corvus Corax

The room was dark, only a single streak of moonlight creeping through the fluttering curtains and painting a silver streak across your face as you slept.

Corvus stood wreathed in shadows watching you. Your lips parted slightly as you mumbled. Stepping silently from the corner, he slipped onto the bed beside you, brushing a curtain of hair from your face.

"I'm back" he whispered, pulling the sheet over your shoulder.

You muttered and twitched at his voice, but remained locked in sleep as he curled up next to you, reaching over to pull you against him. Placing a large palm across your stomach, he pulled your hips against his and curled around you, sliding his other arm under your head.

"I'm here now"

He froze as you opened your eyes. blinking in confusion you twisted slightly, seeing the raven lord curled up behind you.

"Oh, am I dreaming?" You yawned.

"Yes, just a dream"

You nodded like you'd heard a secret and rolled back over, rubbing you head against his arm and locking your fingers with his long slender ones across your stomach.

"I hope I don't wake up too soon"

Alpharius/Omegon

"you know how I can tell you apart?"

The twins both looked up at you, identical looks of amusement as you glanced at them over the table.

"Oh really?"

"mhmm. And I can prove it. Come here"

One of the brothers stood, chuckling, he strode over and took a knee in front of you. You rose to your feet and opened your arms wide.

"Hold me"

The primarch smile broadened as he wrapped both arms around your waist and lifted you, spinning you around as he squeezed you gently. After a moment he set you down and you gestured to the other to do the same.

With a confident smirk he approached you. Dropping to kneel, he wrapped one hand around your waist as the other tangled itself in your hair, tilting your neck as he brushed his lips against your pulse point.

After a moment, you stepped back and pointed

"You're Alpharius"

Pointing to the second twin.

"And you're Omegon"

Alpharius laughed, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"Very well done. But what if we weren't to touch you?"

You tapped your lip in fake thought.

"We'll I suppose I'd have to slap a sticker or something on your back, just to be safe"

You giggled as they stared at you dumbfounded.

"Probably best you just keep hugging me yeh?"

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