#Mortarion x reader

[thevoidscreams]

For mating press march:

Mortarion's wife had the pleasure of being taken care during a bath

Gotta churn up the bubbles for the bubble bath. Day 25 year 2:

Warnings: Bath sex, cock warming, mortarion being in love with you

Word count:1559

The heavy foot fall was the first thing to herald the return of your beloved. His soft wheezing the second. You turned the taps and checked the water. It was nice and hot and his favorite bath oils were in. You hoped he liked it, as simple a gesture as it was.

He came to his bathroom first when he entered his chambers and you smiled up at him from the edge of the tub. His eyes seemed to lighten just a fraction when they landed on you. "There you are." He rasped. Your smile just got wider, your eyes shining up at him, full of love. "Take off your clothes, I want to treat you tonight." Most people wouldn't dare order a primarch around. But you were not most people, you were married to this one. "I just got back from combat. I will ruin the water." He grumbled. "Then rinse off in the shower stall." You pointed and he turned to follow the direction of your finger, despite knowing the stall was there. Mortarion seemed helpless to disobey you. His hands finding his body glove under his cloak. Yet you never ordered him around unless it was for his own good. Tending to his health and staying on top of things. He loved you near to the point of madness. And he would do anything for you if you asked. His cloak fell to the floor and you grabbed it, setting it in a basket to be cleaned later. His body glove joined it and you watched your husband step into the shower to rinse away most of the filth. Blood ran from his long gray hair, down his back and down to the tiles where it flowed into the drain. He wasn't as bulky as some of his brothers but he was big. And his muscles are more apparent the less he wore. All thick chords that he kept hidden most of the time. You realized you were staring at his ass and smiled. It was a nice ass all things considered. He turned and followed your gaze, a smile curving up the corners of his cracked lips. "Will you stare all night, or will you join me." His deep rasp met your ears and you tore your gaze away from his rump. "I'll join you in the bath." You told him, spurring him on to rinse more quickly. You were wearing the nice silk bathrobe he'd gotten you, it was tied around your waist and Mortarion watched as you pulled bottles of soaps from the shelves and set them on the edge of the tub. He stepped out of the shower, watching you with interest as you moved about. Once he was in the water he relaxed, even if his body healed with inhuman speed the water seemed to soothe a soreness he was never aware of until it was gone.

You approached the bath and he watched you come. Your hands untied the robe and you let it slide off your shoulders. It slid down your body and onto the floor. Mortarion had to adjust how he was sitting as he was suddenly shot through with desire. After so many weeks of trudging through the worst filth imaginable, seeing something of such intense beauty made it all seem so worth it. He reached for you, pure and exquisite he guided you into the bath and down onto his lap, chest to chest. "Feeling some kind of way, are we?" You chuckled as his cock pressed against your ass, hardening even further. "I've missed you." He spoke softly, but you could hear the need in every syllable. "I see." You smiled and kissed his chin.

He grabbed your hips, and you allowed him to line up his cock and slide it in. You'd missed him too. You sat there with his cock inside your body, he reached for his favorite soap and a rag. "You take me so well every time." He praised. You rested against his chest, his hands drew the cloth over your back, making sure you were nice and clean.

Your hand reached for a special bar of soap that was meant for hair. you lathered it up as you sat back so you could begin working on him.

You ran your fingers through his hair, your nails scraping over his scalp. He bent forward seeking more of your touch. It was the first gentle thing he'd felt since he was last with you. He grumbled, and you knew from experience that that was his happiest sound. Content, it just flowed from him. "I've missed your touch," he sighed, "your voice," his arms wrapped around you pulling you into a proper hug. "Your smell," He pressed his face into your hair, which was not wet yet. Still carrying the scent of the day in it. You cupped a hand against his soapy cheek and he looked at you. You kissed the side of his mouth and he grumbled again. "Let's get the soap out of your hair." You smiled, once you were both done bathing you could just relax together. He reached for a jug that you kept on the side of the bath for just this purpose. You took it and dipped it into the water. With his head bent back you poured the water over his hair. Watching the soap wash away, leaving behind a pale gray sheet of hair, fresh and clean. You'd missed your husband and sitting with his cock inside you was beginning to feel like torment. You pressed your lips to his and he met the gesture firmly. You moved your hips ever so slightly, and he growled. His arms were holding you again. This time though it was too keep you in place as he rocked his hips up into you. His cock brushing over your inner walls, making you squirm. It was perfect, the feeling of him inside. "I've missed you." You gasped and he nodded.

He held you flush to his chest as he chased his high with your body. It felt incredible after weeks apart. Nothing but his cock could scratch that itch deep inside. Water sloshed around the two of you as he got more vigorous with his movements.

"I thought about this every night I was away from you. I cut my way through armies just to see your face again and I'd do it again and again a million more times if it meant I came back to you at the end of it." He pant, his voice husky from pleasure, you cried out as he found just the right speed and hardness to make you see stars. "I waded through an ocean of blood, with your name on my lips like a prayer." He ground his hips into yours to hear that same oh so delicious cry. "With every world I bring into compliance, with every enemy I crush, I bring the galaxy one step closer to being a place free of tyranny for you." You placed your face into the side of his neck and bit down, his cock twitched hard, almost as if he was about to cum. His hand moved to the back of your head, keeping you there.

You could do nothing but take what he gave you, and you did take what you could, given the terrible uncertainty of the universe. You were just glad to be reunited with him.

"Mortarion. I'm close." You gasped, he kept the pace he was at, knowing that it would best help you cum. "Good, let me give you this. As I will give you everything in time." He promised.

The deep baritone of his voice always seemed clearer when he was close to his own edge and it sent you over just knowing that you would have his seed inside you again. "Mortarion!" You cried. Cumming hard on his cock, your teeth sank into his neck again and it seemed to spur him on, forcing him over the edge with you. Several long and silent minutes passed before he stood. cock still inside you. He didn't say anything as he stepped from the bath and grabbed several towels. He spent the next half hour just drying you. Spending the time you had together in dedication to your body. You were fully dry before he even considered himself. You took the towel from him and patted his hair with it. Grabbing any excess moisture.

You knew war would take him away from you again before you wanted it to. But that was just the reality of your existence as his wife. Mortarion pulled you close as you lay together, naked and content. "Do you really think about me when you're down there fighting?" "Every spare moment, every breath between the swing of my scythe. And in the space between the beat of my dual hearts. You fill every part of me that is not me. It makes me whole."

You didn't know what to say to such a sentiment. So you just kissed him. You would have to find other ways to tell him how much you loved him. Now the bath didn't feel like enough. But you figured it was a good place to start while you had him here for however long it would be.

[runes-and-men]

Morty is stinky as fuck

Stolen from Twitter

Opinions?

[solspina]

Rating primarchs based on how good of a boyfriend they would be

full send no context

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Horus : 8/10

He’s a nice guy for the most part, very charismatic and though very goal focused he’s also kind and open to those he’s closest to. Outwardly, he’s very straightforward, stern, and absolutely ruthless to his enemies. There’s humanity within him though, and he won’t keep his friendly, loving demeanor away from those who deserve it. Find him at a celebratory event, drunk with Sanguinius, moments in which he’s full of nothing but laughter and love for his brothers and the one who stands beside him. His love language is quality time.

Leman Russ : 4/10 (negotiable)

Though he knows love, it seems to be quite strictly familial. He’s described often as ruthless and barbaric, naive and braggish. If you can put up with things like that, I’m sure he would be a fine boyfriend. Similarly enough though, he’s had many women try to court him all at once, and successfully. I can’t promise his loyalty if someone better looking comes along, as no one ever taught him the importance of that. Outside of the constant, lingering fear of replacement, he can have his caring and understanding moments, occasionally bringing you gifts from crusades and sieges on other planets. Maybe his loyalty to the emperor would apply to his lover too, if you tell him what it means to you. His love language is gift giving.

Ferrus Manus : 7/10

Rage is his fatal flaw if we’re being honest. Not towards you, but towards battle. Toward you I imagine he would be more straightforward and honest, though trustworthy and strong willed to make your relationship work. Loyalty will never ever ever be an issue with him, but it seems like he spends more time with war and battle than he does you. He spends time with you when he can, though, and he truly does care. Points off for his temper. He gave his brothers personalized gifts, and i’m sure he would go through many lengths to do the same for you. His love language is gift giving.

Fulgrim: 6/10

He’s constantly trying to be perfect, and he wants whoever he’s with to be perfect too. A lot of the time, it gets to his head. He can be incredibly ignorant quite often, and isn’t very considerate of your feelings. You’re more of an idol to him, a model. You’re human, so he sees you as perfect, something he and his people should strive to be like. Youre idealized, and under rose tinted lenses, this looks a lot like love… Lots of acts of service and gift giving.

Vulkan : 10/10

The only man you will ever need point blank period. He’s patient, he’s empathetic, he’s kind, he’s humane. He’s incredibly easy to love, and he truly is beloved. The Salamanders love you too, sometimes listening to your commands as if they were his. You’re respected as long as you’re under his arm. He wants to understand the way humans feel, especially understand the reason they wrap their arms around each other and sleep with their bodies entwined at night. His love language is physical touch.

Rogal Dorn : 6/10

He’s incredibly loyal, and also incredibly honest, but his seriousness can get in the way sometimes. You love him, very much, but there are times you get into petty arguments and he has to go consult Horus and Sanguinius for advice on what to do. He’s also very reserved at times, a lot like a single dad who’s just doing his best to keep his job and go about his day. Acts of service would be his love language.

Roboute Guilliman : 9/10

Guilliman is a great boyfriend, a great tactician, a great warrior, all of the above. The only reason i’d take a point off is because I believe he may be a little arrogant at times. He believes that his way is the right way, but he’s usually willing to listen to you and your concerns. He’s incredibly intelligent, very sympathetic and understanding of human trials and concerns, and he’s a lot like we are modern times. I think he would look for comfort in a significant other, and his love language is likely acts of service.

Magnus the Red : 3/10

Another man that I don’t recommend being with. He’s more arrogant than Fulgrim. When I said Guilliman believes his way is the right way, Magnus takes it a step up. He thinks he’s ALWAYS right. He cares, and he means well, but he’s way too much to put up with. Highly manipulative and self absorbed, don’t put yourself in that situation. He values knowledge more than he does you.

Sanguinius : 10/10

Besides the fact he’s a vampire, you’re probably the most safe with him. He genuinely cares for you and your well-being, and sleeping next to him at night with his wing draped over you is an absolute dream in a universe plagued by war. His sons may fall to their bloodthirst when they’re on the home ship, and Sanguinius is fast to wrap himself around his human partner and protect them from any and all harm. You hold him through his sorrow every time a mass of humans or his sons lose their lives, and you watch him kneel to offer you his loyalty and unconditional love rather than you offering it to him. He gives both physical touch and words of affirmation.

Lion El’Jonson : 7/10

Of course he has his moments where he can come off as aloof and paranoid, but that’s for the most part only on the battlefield. Outside, he’s incredibly charming and charismatic, but in a noble way. When his paranoia gets to him after an argument, he seeks out Sanguinius and Horus for advice, wanting nothing more to fix your relationship and solve whatever went wrong. He become more secretive as time goes on, but old habits die hard. I believe he’d offer acts of service.

Perturabo : 6/10

He’s incredibly smart, but finds relating to you and your human tendencies incredibly difficult. His moods can shift and change rapidly and violently, but I believe he means you no true harm. He would never hurt you intentionally, often opting to back away and give himself space, sometimes for days. He never returns to you without a mechanically engineered gift, though, one of his design. Alongside a very gentle hug and a conversation about how you care about him, what he loves. You love him, not for his usefulness to the emperor, but for him. His love language is definitely gift giving.

Mortarion : 8/10

He’s very confused as to why you would choose him. He’s disgusting, an abomination, he hated everything from psykers to his oppressors, what did anything matter if he would be left to the mercy of another oppressor anyways? All thoughts he had until he met you. He was cold and hateful to you at first, untrusting, and yet you showed him kindness. You showed him kindness over and over again. For once, it wasn’t just a one time thing. You’re the only thing in this universe who sees him as more than a warlord, more than the embodiment of death itself, so for you he has a soft spot. He hates the idea of having a human curl up next to him, absorbing his warmth and disease alike… and yet you do. You remind him that his touch is not deadly, and he too is capable of humanity. He will be more considerate of his decisions, because for once, something matters. His love language is physical touch, because he’s been deprived for so long, you’re the only one who allows him that piece of humanity.

Lorgar : 5/10

Does he love you? Does he not? No… He needs you… Maybe he just needs space actually.He loves you, he really does, and by god he tries his best, but when you’re as impulsive and indecisive as he is, it’s hard to know sometimes. If you’re okay with it working 50% of the time, maybe more maybe less, I’m sure you’ll be fine. His love language is… uh… well?

Jaghatai Khan : 7/10

Loyal, decently humble, and a relatively peaceful man. Outside of war, he has potential to be great to you. When war is his focus, however. Expect no attention, he’s a fierce warrior and needs to focus on his allegiance to the emperor, that’s what comes first. You follow very closely after, though! He’s quick to praise you for the things you do well and gently remind you of a better course of action when it comes to the things you don’t do too well. Acts of service enjoyer.

Konrad Curze : 2/10

DO NOT DATE THIS MAN. Konrad is a walking red flag. The self loathing, the anger, the angst, the general belief in humanity as a fallacy. He’s also incredibly violent, and may cause you serious harm if you ever managed to anger him. He’s a primarch, and you’re a human. Don’t you dare piss him off. I don’t know why anyone would realistically want that. Please continue to paint him as mean angry babygirl with a soft spot in your fics though. If you think you can fix him, you can’t. The emperor already tried.

Angron : 4/10

Before his conversion to chaos, Angron would’ve been a great boyfriend if we’re being honest. He was kind, compassionate, encouraging. He loved you when you were enslaved beside him, but once he became a primarch and lost everything, his beloved included, he became one of the most ruthless and cruel people out there until he succumbed to Khorne. He doesn’t remember you. His love language was words of affirmation.

Corvus Corax : 4/10

A very melancholic and depressed primarch. He’s very angsty and honestly a major drag to be around. He and Konrad, i feel like, would be better boyfriends to each other than either of them would be to you. Corvus isn’t as violent as Konrad, but he definitely carries on the hatred, the sorrow, and the bitterness. He’s also very sensitive, so expect to be met with either violence or a breakdown if you try to leave. 2 extra points because you may get to keep your life, his love language is words of affirmation, always followed by self deprecation.

Alpharius Omegon : 7/10

He’s they’re a great boyfriend to be honest, though very secretive, and that raises many questions. You don’t know that there are two of them. It’s a secret, not even one that you’re allowed to know the answer to. Alpharius is obviously the more dominant brother, the one who you think has a soft side. He doesn’t. That’s not him, that’s Omegon. Omegon is much more gentle, quiet, and quite honestly a little more touchy. Why? because you make him feel seen. Alpharius is used to the spotlight, so giving him every ounce of your attention feels like the usual, though he still enjoys it very much. Alpharius expresses love through acts of service and gift giving, while Omegon expresses love through words of affirmation and quality time. They make up for everything the other lacks, as long as you don’t know the massive secret they’re keeping from you…

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Uh. Hi? This was a random rough idea I had a few weeks back.

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Tokophobia, Thigh fucking, Light Somnophilia

He's always had trouble sleeping; The concept is foreign to him, and he's able to forgo it in lieu of various more important tasks. Why waste the time.

But as of late he's a bit more apt to it- he blames you for the change.

You turn a bit beside him and groan in your sleep, causing him took down towards you. Your body presses against his front, laying on your right side. Your hair pushes against the pillow, left arm laying over top the blanket. Even with it covering most of your body however, he can still see the swell of your belly pushing against the blanket.

It's been months, and each one was a revelation that once again, this isn't just a dream. You were with child, his child, now round and plump. Your stomach is overfull so far beyond the ability to hide behind clothes, and as of late, your chest as well. Enough that even he has noticed, with or without your complaints of aching.

He's just- the thought of this is unbelievable.

Someone desires him, wants him- wants him in that way- enough to want a family with him. To see his child as a blessing and not a curse. He hates the feeling he gives him, like there's a heavy weight on his chest he can't remove.

But he also feels a fire in his gut. The sight of you hefting around his growing child fills him with a longing that he despises is even there. He already feels a guilt for allowing himself to dare create a family in light of his weaknesses, is it too bold of him to become aroused by it?

He would see you waddling around and his cock would get heavy with blood in moments, and he'd inevitably go to scuddle off to privacy. Or if he's in his armor, just stew until it fades.

Now however he feels the weight of your body against him, the roundness of your bum against his groin. You always slot so perfectly against his chest, but he's slid upwards a bit to use his arm to support himself and can now feel the strain of his cock against your nightdress.

By the Throne it hurts, it throbs enough that he winces, feeling his stomach knot up.

Your nightdress is already wrinkled and twisted, it doesn't take much effort to push it up more and push down the band of his trousers, letting out a pathetic moan as his heated cock slips forth and presses against your bare skin.

He needs more, he needs more, he grips your thigh and feels the way his cock springs between them without guiding, and he places your thigh back down. His hips thrust forward unconsciously- that primal instinct- of which makes you groan and begin returning to consciousness.

"Tari?"

You mumble, mewling a bit when his hips slap into your bare ass. The sound fills the silence of the room, horrifically loud and enough to make Mortarion shirk into his own shoulders if it wasn't for the pitch darkness enveloping you both.

"I, I'll be quick,"

He huffs, feeling his cock slide dryly against your thighs. You let out a breathy little moan, half awake, hips wiggling. He puts a hand on your round belly and holds you against him, keeping you from sliding away.

"Tari, you-"

The whimper you let out is enthralling, and he feels your thighs tense around him. You're so sensitive nowadays, a new development. The mewls and little whimpers you let out make him feel so guilty for perusing his own release so ruthlessly. He feels the heavy weight of your belly against his fingers as they lay between it and the bed, and him remembering that he's the one that made you this way made him let out the most pathetic, defeated groan.

By the Throne, the feeling makes his guts twist like someone reached inside of his stomach and squeezed. Once you give birth, he knows he's going to have to fight the hideously primal feeling of giving you another.

He has to swallow the whimpering moan as he finally cums, the tensing making him begin to cough; It rips through his throat like a blade. He pushes you against him tight and drives his hips hard against your ass, feeling your head loll against his chest.

"Do you..."

He's still cumming, he feels his cock twitch with each spurt that stains the warm blankets of your shared bed while you mumble at him- still sleepy. The guilt weighs on him like the heaviest metal until you finally speak a full sentence.

"Promise to do that again in the morning. When I'm not sleepy."

He does promise, but it's a bit mumbled through to rasp of his ruined and still cough ridden throat-

And completely ignored, because you've already fallen back asleep.

[fyxestroll]

Whose Problem Is It When the Primarchs Fall in Love? Pt.2

note: posting this during class because im school is making me lose my mind :>

Unnamed Primarch #11 - Had a relationship so healthy Emps got jealous and deleted them from existence.

Angron - Theoretically it should be everyone’s problem but in practice, it’s mainly Angron’s. Like everything in his life, Angron falling in love is a tragedy; there are no good scenarios, no good endings. The Butcher’s Nails have robbed him of many things including the whirlwind of emotions that came with falling in love being replaced by pain, so much pain. There are so many what-ifs, could-have-been and should-have-beens with Angron that in another life—one kinder to him, you just know that he would love you with all of himself. 

Guilliman - He joins Jaghatai in the no-ones problem club. He handles falling in love well, there’s no unbearable pining or disastrous courting ideas. Internally, though, he hesitates from time to time because of the weight he carries on his shoulders. He dreams of retirement, of a simple life and that dream involves falling in love too but he’s far from retirement, far from that simple life. There’s always that nagging thought that his pursuit of you would have you be put into harm's way.

Mortarion - It’s his problem and it makes him miserable. When Mortarion falls in love he expects to be rejected almost immediately. He expects to be hated, to be seen as disgusting. This leads to him avoiding you because despite expecting it, he can’t bear to handle that sort of rejection. Still, he pines from a distance. If Mortarion’s feelings for you are requited then good luck its a never-ending game of hide and seek with his man. 

Magnus the Red - It’s your problem. Have you ever had that one smart classmate that goes ‘oh i didn’t review’ after getting a perfect score and its obvious they said that because they want to be praised? Well, that’s Magnus. He wants your attention and he wants your approval. Praise him, tell him how smart he is, keep up with his genius. Oh, this man can be perceived as so damn annoying and the worst part is that he doesn’t even realise it. When he falls in love, he looks for an equal in tht person.  He wants someone who can keep up with him, someone he can bounce off ideas with but he winds up expressing it in a way that unintentionally insults your intelligence. He’s like a pretentious peacock with the way he’s showing off his mastery of the warp. To have requited feelings for this man means being the most patient and understanding person in the whole galaxy.

Horus - It’s your problem. Like with Magnus you’d need a lot of patience with this man. Horus is like a big bald frat boy and when he pines his frat legion is right behind him. If the Space Wolves are singing kiss the girl the Luna Wolves are doing that with fireworks. Its endearing but so much so that it loops back to being cringe. Not even Horus’ Primarch charisma can help them on that one. Either way, whether you fall for him or not there's just this nagging feeling that something is about to go wrong at any moment.

Lorgar - Three your problems in a row lfg!!! Love for Lorgar is both spiritual happiness and guilt so when he falls in love he feels both. Worse, is that when Lorgar falls in love, he falls in LOVE. His emotions for you are intense and all-encompassing resulting in Lorgar deifying you and feeling immense guilt at what he feels as he feels that his feelings for you is him being corrupted in some way. It’s intense, it’s toxic and unless you’re into that it's your problem.

 Vulkan - He’s the president of the no-one’s-problem club. The OG in-touch with his emotions guy. The closest thing he’d have a problem with is that he looks intimidating as hell so if you aren’t close to him or don’t know him well you might be intimidated but that’s nothing a little quality time with him can’t fix! 

Corvus Corax - It’s his problem but he handles it better than most of the Primarchs on this list. He's well-adjusted enough to go with the flow but the insecurity is still there. He knows that under his skin he’s not exactly human and whether or not you are just the slightest bit aware of a Primarch’s true nature it kills him. Still, out of hypocrysy selfishness, he attempts to pursue you, hesitating every step of the way. Don’t be surprised if he ghosts you for days and then comes back badly trying to pretend like nothing happened.

Alpharius Omegon - It’s their problem (????) Alpharius and Omegon come as a packaged pair in just about anything including love, at least initially. They’re technically the same person but they’re still at their core individuals of the slightest variations so when they fall in love they need to be acknowledged as an individual by that person. It’s messy, internal and highlights the hairline cracks in the twins’ relationship. You don’t know that any of this is happening all you know is that Alpharius likes you.

[green-square-anon]

Big fan of this reddit "chose your husband" primarch memes depiction of Konrad. I don't like the Dorn one, it makes him sound like an asshole and I have varying opinions on the rest. But the Konrad one is perfect.

And I like how his dark and gritty nature and cuddles were actually connected kinda like a trauma response rather than the generic edgy guy.

Also this glorious comment by redditor Jaxolotle:

[yagodnyizefir]

There are so many primarch's babies, I want to add something too. So, some time ago in hsr fandom people were drawing Sunday as an ugly baby bird. Anyway, here's a meeting of cousins ​​- Sanguinius' child and Mortarion's daughter.

[toto-the-cactus]

A little brain fart that I got and needed to write down after a friend introduced me to Warhammer 40K.

This was heavily inspired in the short stories from @moodymisty with their Mortarion x Reader focus. I like the proposal of Mortarion's beloved being their complete opposite in appearance and personality but from the pov of Fulgrim of all people. My man not computing the mix.

Pairing: Mortarion x Reader (Female)

CW: none

The Flower

“Fulgrim… Fulgrim, you’ve been staring like that for half an hour. Stop it"

He knew, of course.

The Primarch was well aware that he was being less than dignified by the way he kept looking at Mortarion’s direction across the room, but the occasion warranted such a reaction and he was ready to call Ferrus out in his hypocrisy as he had been as curious as Fulgrim when the news reached them.

Mortarion, of all their brothers… somehow managed to find himself a sweet looking mortal that had accepted marriage by the simple excuse of ‘love’. Had it been an arranged marriage, the white-haired Primarch wouldn’t be this off put by the information as he was well acquaintanced with such political strategies, but since that wasn’t the case, Fulgrim had felt a bit too cynical about the matter.

He was ready to be faced by the haughty appearance of a tired baseline human, probably carrying herself more like a resigned corpse than someone worthy to be called ‘A Primarch’s wife’.

But lo and behold, The Phoenician felt like someone had dared to slap him in the face.

The little thing clung to Mortarion’s large frame by his hand and the contrast between them was both hilarious and confusing. Where the Primarch of the Death Guard Legion carried himself with a dark and haunting presence that tainted the pristine walls of the imperial palace, his partner looked cheery and amicable while engaged in a joint conversation with Sanguinius, who hadn’t been blind to the light nervousness you showed by the way you kept playing with the fine fabric of your dress.

That action, while of kind intentions, seemed to put the Pale King on edge as he stayed even closer to his dearest like some terrible shadow putting his possessive mark on her.

‘Figures’, the violet-eyed demigod thought unamusedly at the clear display of jealousy from their outcast sibling, as he never hid his bitterness towards some of their brothers that he felt life had favored.

It was when she glanced at Mortarion that Fulgrim almost choked with his wine because Emperor almighty, that was a look that the white-haired man had seen on very few occasions.

Your eyes shone with warm and overwhelming love, adoration even, that caught both Primarchs close to you a bit off guard. Of course, Mortarion quickly recovered by it and with a flustered look (flustered!), got the little mortal closer to him with his huge hand by her waist.

That was all the sign that Sanguinius needed to excuse himself away to leave the merry couple in their little bubble.

“I can’t understand… the guy has a presence of looming death and the smell to back it up and she seems the complete opposite” muttered Fulgrim to Ferrus in complete confusion. The little thing looked like she easily could find any male to be her companion, as the mortal was quite the sight and yet her eyes rarely left their brother’s form.

Fulgrim could easily imagine Mortarion’s fingers staining her beautiful pale dress and yet the lady barely even blinked when asking to deliver a soft kiss to the cheek of the Primarch.

“Well… Mortarion looks happy at least.” Ferrus answered, trying to distract the white-haired demigod to what was possibly his major headache.

And wasn’t that the most prominent truth around it? For as confusing as the sight was to The Phoenician, their brother found this beautiful flower and did what any sane person would do: he kept her for himself.

Hope yall liked it <33

[ms--lobotomy]

Are y'all down for some heresy?

NSFW under the cut. Don't say I didn't warn you.

LION EL'JONSON - "Stay quiet," he grumbled. He pushed you against the wall and kicked your legs apart before tearing off what garments you were wearing. You wanted to open your mouth, but a large hand pressed against it, almost obfuscating your entire face. He unzipped his leather trousers with the other hand, only pulling them down far enough to reveal himself to you. He didn’t prepare himself before he went in, and it hurt. His hands moves towards your wrists, and he held you up against the cold wall as he went in deeper, and deeper. You relaxed into his grip and kept your lips sealed until you couldn’t, and the moan that escaped you was nothing short of content.

??? - SEX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FULGRIM - Intricate knots kept you suspended in the air as he ran his hand along your collarbone. You wanted to cry out, to beg him, to scream that he should get on with it. But there was a gag in your mouth, impeding your speech. His hand ran lower, down to your breast. He hovered slightly above it, a smirk dusting his face before he squeezed your nipple and you let out a little whimper. His hands trailed lower and lower before he reached between your legs, sticking a finger in. You couldn’t make any comprehensible sounds with that gag in your mouth, but he still knew that you were finally enjoying yourself.

PERTURABO - You were situated atop him, with his hands on your waist. You needed a little bit of help moving up and down. He was difficult to straddle as he was twice your size, but you made it work. He moved you up and down on him, stretching you out. Between the little noises that you made, you managed to eek out a few words. "Oh, you're doing wonderfully." He froze, holding you down on him. Maybe it was the almost pleading expression on your face that did it, or the words themselves. Either way, you saw his expression soften for just a moment before you felt him slam you onto himself, hard.

JAGHATAI KHAN - You hadn’t had the idea to stop until your clothes were cast to the side of the bike and you were sitting on his lap, facing him. You looked up at him as he brought you down upon him. You let out a quiet whimper and felt your face go warm. “Let it out,” he told you softly. It took you a few seconds to do so as he raised you up and down on him. Your hands trailed to his chest as he started to go faster. And faster. You were practically howling by the time he was done with you, finishing inside of you. You felt something wet and sticky dribble down your leg. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, picking you up and putting you back down before he went to grab something to clean you off.

LEMAN RUSS - Your face went warm when you saw his sons staring at you, leering at you. You still pulled your shirt over your head, and you didn’t say anything as he grabbed you by the shoulders and pinned you down, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. One hand roamed down your body, the other pushed your legs apart. You looked to the side, towards his sons. They were talking amongst themselves, and more importantly, staring at you. As Leman put a finger between your legs, you let out a delicate moan. You knew it was going to be a long night.

ROGAL DORN - He had you right where he wanted you, tied down to his bed with a toy between your legs. He watched as you squirmed and writhed as you had been doing for the past couple of hours, unable to turn the device off. You moaned, looking up at him. He was looking at you as warmly as a man like him could, his expression soft and loving. He made his way over to you, kneeling over you. He put a large hand to your cheek, and you leaned into it as you climaxed yet again, loud and hard. He chuckled. "You're beautiful when you climax."

KONRAD CURZE - His fingers dug into your legs, breaking your delicate skin. He was coarse and rough and he threatened to snap your body in half. Blood lightly glazed his fingers as he slammed himself into you, with no care to how you may be feeling. A ravenous grin graced his face. Tears began to well up in your eyes as you gently called out his name. His grip moved up to your arms, just above your hands, and it once again drew blood. You looked up at him, barely able to keep your eyes open. "Please," you begged, as he started to go faster inside of you. He grunted something in his native Nostraman as he finished inside you, burying his face in your neck.

SANGUINIUS - You tried running and you tried hiding, but when the Brightest One wanted you, he wanted you. He’d excused himself from his previous calling and roamed the ship looking for you until he had you exactly where he wanted you. He’d pinned you to the wall, ripping off your clothes with a wild desire in his eyes before he sank his teeth into your neck. You winced as he siphoned blood from you, and you gently clutched the back of his head. You ran your fingers through his hair as he planted kisses lower and lower on you, using his teeth. You knew it was going to leave a mark, but you didn’t struggle against him as he made his way between your legs.

FERRUS MANUS - He pinned you to the wall as if you were an object with one hand and planted his other right on your throat. His metallic hands were cold and slippery against your skin. He tapped his fingers against your neck, teasing you, before he grasped your neck and air became nothing less than a privilege to you. You gasped for air, but nothing came through your windpipes. “Winded?” he asked, blood rushing to your face. Your hands instinctively grappled for his, but you didn’t want to choke out your safe word. Not yet. Before you lost consciousness, though, he let go of you. You collapsed to the floor and gasped for air, clutching your chest. He grabbed your jaw and tilted your head up to look at him. “You’re cute when you’re winded.”

??? - I think they need to check my apartment for a gas leak.

ANGRON - Here he is, the Red Angel, restrained before you. You felt his face. It was warm. "You're going to be okay," you cooed, planting a kiss on his scarred lips. You took out some lube, and rubbed it on him. He throbbed in your hands. You saw his face scrunched up in pleasure before he let out a moan, low and guttural. You paused to plant another kiss on his lips before you went back to him. He writhed in the intricate ropework you had done on him, but nothing broke. "You're doing so well," you said. He grunted in response. Before long, you'd finished him, and the noise that he let out was nothing less than beautiful.

ROBOUTE GUILLIMAN - Before you even had time to think about it, he’d cast his paperwork aside, stripped your clothes off and spread you out over his desk like a delicacy. He slid a finger over the area between your legs, and you could see a slightly devious smile cross his face before he stuck it in. You let out a yelp and clung to the sides of his desk before he put his other finger to your lips. “Ssh,” he said. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear us, right?” he asked, pushing his finger all the way up. Your face scrunched up as he went up and down inside you. A few times you got close to revealing your whereabouts, but you managed to reel it in.

MORTARION - Not many people got to see the Pale King’s lab, but you were one of the lucky few. You rubbed up against him, time and time again. You did this until he pushed his materials aside, set you on the counter, and pulled your clothes off. He pulled his mask down and put his mouth on yours, sliding himself in. He trailed kisses down you, stopping briefly at your nipple, before he spread your legs open. "You did this to yourself," he murmured, before he put his tongue between your legs and you let out a loud moan. You knew that you were going to be here for a long time.

MAGNUS THE RED - Here you were, bound via warp magic (for lack of a better term), Magnus in front of you. You shivered, bare as you ever were, and he grabbed your hands before he kissed you, rubbing himself on you. He was only slightly larger than the average human now, able to comfortably fit inside of you once the time would come. You let out a little moan, and he chuckled at you. "Sensitive?" he asked, before sliding into you. Your fingers interlocked with his, and you threw your head back in pleasure. He chuckled. "Look at me," he said, grabbing your chin and tilting it down to look at him.

HORUS - You cried out, in pleasure and in pain. He'd pried your legs open as if it were nothing and forced himself in, not even bothering to prepare you for the experience. And here he was now, looming over you, smile cocky as ever. You swear the two of you were going at it for hours, his breath hot on your neck and his hands effortlessly pinning you to the bed, until he suddenly slowed down. He shoved himself in you once, then twice, then three times. You looked up at him with wide eyes. You opened your mouth to speak, but he spoke first. “You’re going to make a great mother.”

LORGAR - He wanted to fuck his problems away, release all of his frustrations onto you, but he simply couldn’t. You were already whimpering underneath him, tears gathering in your eyes, and he was being as gentle as he could be. His hand grazed the side of your face, and you leaned into it. A tear fell from your eye. “You’re taking it so well, my love,” he cooed, wiping your tear away. “If only you could see how gorgeous you look.” Your face went warm, and you turned your gaze to the side. With one hand, he turned your head back towards him. “Look at me,” he said. “Let me watch you come undone.”

VULKAN - You looked up at him, your face scrunched up as he struggled to fit it in. Your hands were intertwined, his massive hands engulfing yours. You whimpered and moaned as he slowly slid in, pressing hard against your walls. He leaned down, his lips grazing your ear. “Good girl,” he said. “Just a little more, okay?” You gulped, and you nodded as he pressed into you. He pressed a kiss to your neck as he pulled himself out. It was much easier for him to put himself in you this second time, stretched out on him. You looked down at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

CORVUS CORAX - He sat next to you, staying close by your side. Your skirt was shorter than usual this meeting, and you had “neglected” to put on underwear. As he talked, he slid a finger between your legs, and started to make a motion as if he were beckoning someone over. You tried not to make a face as you looked at everyone else at the meeting. Nobody was looking at you particularly funnily. As he stopped speaking, he slid another finger in. You looked up at him, and there was a slightly bemused smile on his face. Your face went warm as he stuck another finger in.

ALPHARIUS - There were lookalikes all over you, touching you, inside you. You could barely handle the one in your mouth, but there was one in each hand, one in your chest and one between your legs, buried to the hilt. And when he had spilled himself inside you, leaving that mark that you belonged to the Alpha Legion, another took his place. Your hands began to tire, though, and your eyes began to droop. You looked up, as much as you could. The one in your mouth took himself out, and cupped your face. "Tired yet?"

[lemon-russ]

Sometimes I just want to take care of Mortarion, cook for him, give him a nice bath, with a massage and take care of his skin with soft lotions, so I can get my hands all over him. And then wrap him in a soft fuzzy bathrobe and tuck him into a freshly made bed. That boy needs someone to take care of him, and he sure as fuck isn't going to do it himself

I got carried away, partially because @moodymisty won't stop talking about the stinky nasty man and I NEEDED to wash him.

Get cleaned, idiot.

Tags: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk,

and thank you for dividers @squishyowl

Mortarion x F!Reader

(Actually i dont think there's any reference to the reader actually being fem?)

CW: kinda gross Mortarion stuff, vague suggestiveness

Word count: ~2000

Mortarion trudges through the threshold to your shared chambers. You gasp and shoot up from your seat where you had been reading. He'd been gone for months on a mission, and you weren't expecting him home for a month still.

“Mortarion!” you say, rushing to his side. He blinks slowly, turning his tired gaze onto you. He takes a moment to fulky process you're there.

“I… return.” He rasps through his mask.

You frown, seeing the grey circles gathered under his eyes, his gaunt cheeks. He always looked ill, but today he looked a foot in the grave.

“You look exhausted, my love.” You say gently, leading him to a chair. He sits with a soft groan, slumping back and letting his head roll back. His robes are dirty and stiff from being worn so long, and you wrinkle your nose. You're glas the serfs brought fresh laundry today.

“It was a long, long ordeal…” he rasps again. You sit on the arm of the chair and push back his hood from his face. His grey hair, greasy and dust caked, falls around his face to his shoulders. You ran a hand along his cheek and he looked up at you tiredly with his cloudy green eyes.

“Here-” you say softly, standing, “you must have not had a decent meal in weeks, let me get you something-”

He blinks, scrunching his brow and raising a pallid hand a bit as you scurry away from the chair.

“You don't have- come, we have serfs for that-” he weakly protests, but you're already out the door.

You return quickly with a spread of cheeses, fruits, meats, and some wine. Mortarion couldn't get drunk, but he sometimes enjoyed the taste. You place it on the sidetable nearby, hopping back next to him. This time he places an arm around your side, but carefully as not to touch you.

His pale eyes soften at the plate. “…thank you. That is… very kind.” He says, reaching for his respirator.

You watch him take the gas infusing mask off, and wince when he starts gasping rattling sounds. You hand him a cloth to cough into, and rub his wide back as he hacks and wheezes while his lungs struggle to rebuild themselves enough to breathe unaltered air. When he's able to breath mostly uninhibited, he swallows a few times and looks up at you again, a thin sweat on his brow.

“You don't have to… always stay with me, when I take off the mask…” he croaks weakly. You smile and give a soft sigh.

“It's alright. I can handle it.” You say gently. You bring him over the tray, and he scrunches his nose and coughs when a tart fruit hits his tongue. He instead gulps some wine, then sighs.

“Tastes… awful, at first.” He mumbles in his hoarse voice.

“I know, my love.” You soothe, rubbing his shoulder and ignoring the dust and blood caked robes. “But your taste will kick back in soon like always.”

You slide off the chair again, and his dry, paled lips give a small frown. You smile back. “I'm going to run you a bath while you snack.” You say, flittering over to some cabinets. You start gathering scented herbs and oils and soaps.

Mortarion gives a resignated sigh. “Very well, then… I have… learned better than to fight with you on this. Go make your soup.” He gruffs, halfheartedly waving a hand your way.

You giggle. He may give you attitude about it, but you suspect some part of him liked the comfort and attention, as antithetical to his personality as it was. But he had to keep up appearances.

You leave him to his food, hearing him occasionally cough over a bite, and head to your bathroom. You asked Mortarion to build a spacious bathroom when he asked how you wanted your chambers. He delivered, a large heated bath pool set into the floor, big enough that he could sit fully submerged. You turn on the water and throw in the oils and herbs.

Ginger, because he looked like his muscles were sore, and it helps his throat and cough. Lavender and chamomile, to help with the stress you could see in his tense shoulders. And some jasmine scented epsom salt for- well, everything else going on with his cracking, healing skin. Plus, you like the smell.

When the pool was sufficiently full, you return to him, now resting with his head back and an empty tray. You smile, content that he has real food in him, and gently take one of his hands in both of yours. You purse your lips at how bony his knuckles feel.

He cracks a red rimmed eye at you. “Is there something you'd like?” He asks, voice sounding a tad clearer.

You pout. “Come, before the water cools.”

He lets out a deep, rattling sigh, but seems too tired to argue. He rises with a groan, and dredges after you as you lead him to the bathroom.

His clothes are… well. They're going in the burn pile. Mortarion doesn't do laundry, so much as replace clothes. The serfs enjoy the lack of washing, but the tailors don't love the constant sewing of huge outfits.

He watches you, expression unreadable as you start undoing his various belts and ties. You free his hooded robe, and he helps you slide it off his shoulders, leaving him bare armed in a loose, sleeveless tunic. You undo the belt to that, fumbling with the knot around his hips, and glance up at him when you notice he's staring.

His face looks taught, and your brow knits. “My love…?”

He squeezes his tired eyes shut, making a small noise. “Its- nothing.” He hisses, turning his head away.

You frown, but shrug and go back to fiddling with the tied fabric. The dirt seems to have made the knot hard to loosen, but you manage to free it, and toss it aside and start tugging at his soiled tunic. He groans a little, but leans to help you tug it off. He kicks off his boots himself, and when you reach for his pants, he gently grabs your wrist, dwarfing it in his hands.

“I can manage the rest.” He says, voice strained. You smile and step back, watching as he peels the pants off. He gives you a look, before sighing and peeling his loincloth off as well. You don't know why he makes a spectacle of getting undressed. You've seen it all before. And more.

You giggle, but move a stool over for him. He sits, and lets you take buckets from the bath to rinse off the more offensive dust and grime. You'd prefer his bath not immediately turn black when he touches it.

When he's rinsed, he trudges tiredly over to the pool and lowers himself in. He hisses through his teeth as the water hits his cracked skin, but lowers in anyway, leaning so only his head is unsubmerged. His grey hair- brighter now without so much filth- splays across the tiles. You smile and sit behind him cross-legged on the floor.

You drizzle some flowery scented shampoo on his hair, and start massaging your fingers into his scalp as it lathers. He sighs a deep breath, sinking into the pool a little more. It takes a few rinses and lathers before you're confident his hair is actually clean, but his dull gray hair is now shiny silver once again.

You undress yourself next, and he tilts his head up to peek at you as you do. You giggle. Again, he acts like you aren't getting in the bath lole this. You slip in with him, his eyes never leaving you.

“What?” You chuckle softly.

His eyes roam your body, and he almost smiles the tiniest bit. “Nothing. Please, continue with the frivolities.” He replies, settling back again.

You do just that, using a loufa to gentley exfoliate the skin that was cracking and shedding as his body recovered from the gas.

He makes a small groan now and then, moving every so slightly to give you better access to him as you scrub sweet soaps into his skin. You make him roll over, and he does so, propping arms on the side of the pool as you nearly climb his back to scrub and exfoliate.

He looks half asleep by the time you're done, and his shoulders are slouched in a much less tense way. The red around his eyes is now pink, and his pallid skin is starting to look less translucent and waxy as the heat and healing slowly brings a hint of blood to his face. And, apparently, other places as well, you chuckle to yourself.

You run a comb through his hair, detangling it with scneted oils. He watches with half lidded eyes as you sit in his lap, gently tugging out knots.

“Why….?” He mumbles, letting one of his hands splay across your small back.

You smile up at his tired, soft face. “Why what, my love?”

He sighs and rubs his thumb over your spine. “Why… this? Me…?” he murmurs.

Your face softens, and you set the comb aside so you can cradle his face between your hands.

“Because you're you.” You say gently.

He sighs and lets his cheek rest in your small palm, eyes fluttering closed. You stay like that a moment, stroking his cheek and cuddling in the warm waters.

When the water starts to chill, he sighs and pulls you up with him as he stands.

“You'll catch a cough if we stay.” He says quietly.

He places you carefully on the tile floor, and you're quick to scurry over and fetch towels- one to wrap around you, and a massive one for him. You hold it up to him with a grin, and he cuckles a rattling sound, coughing slightly from the exertion.

He kneels so you can toss the fluffy towel over his head and dry his hair, then the work it down his shoulders and back.

When you've given him a once over, he plucks off your own towel, making you squeek, and plops ot over your head. You giggle and towel off your own dripping hair, and when you pull it off, you see Mortarion holding your robe out for you.

“Last time you caught a cough,” he says, “you couldn't get up for days. Don't walk around cold and wet, you're too… frail.” He grumbled.

You smile and chuckle as you slip into the robe. “I get sick one time, while you're always sick, and I get lectured…” you huff softly.

He makes a small grunt. “It's different.”

You roll your eyes, but tug him to the bed, and he doesn't protest when you urge him to lay on his front, crawling up to the plush pillows and letting his face flop into them. You smile at the sight, the pale king, face first on a bed, hair fanned over the pillow, looking like a kitten that was fighting off falling asleep right there.

You scoot to the bedside table and take the oatmeal and honey lotion you have made just for him. His only response when you start working it over his broad shoulder muscles is a resigned, tired groan. You follow the contours of his back, working your hands over his fair skin, kneading away at his muscles, down his arms, over his fingers.

You make him roll to repeat the process over his chest, sruggling to push into the firm muscle. You take a break to shake out your tiring hands, and notice mortarions eyes are shut, and his breathing is slow and rythmic.

You smile, returning to massaging the sleeping primarch down his thighs and calves. When you are content that youve worked out at least some of his muscle knots, and lotioned all of him you could reach, you sit back and smile.

Clean, fair but slightly pink toned skin, silvery hair slightly disheveled over his face, the dark circles of his eyes fading already as he slept. The peacefulness of his sleeping face, silvery lashes fluttering as he dreams, lifts a worried weight off your shoulders.

You pull a few covers up over him, slipping in beside him. He automatically hooks an arm around you, holding you to his chest like a stuffed animal without stirring his sleep.

With a heavy, worn and contented sigh, you rest your head on his shoulder, taking in the smell of lavender and honey, and let your own eys fall shut in sleep.

[druidwolf21]

Just saw your Lion el Jonson or Sanguinius question and I say just do which ever ones that make you happy.

Also may I request a Twin Sibling Blank/Pariah Reader x Konrad Curze smut or Sandwiched Lorgar x Reader x Mortarion smut, please. The first one can be about after finally bringing peace to Nostramo the two think it's time celebrate by having their first time together and for the second one both Lorgar and Mortarion having been secretly going to therapy sessions with our reader and somehow the both of them find out they are seeing the same therapist and so both wish to be in a relationship together while sharing reader.

Thanks Anon! It's always nice to have a bit of support when you're writing!

And thanks so much for the request!

I would absolutely love to write this for you!

It's probably not what you had in mind, but I still hope you enjoy it

Lorgar/mortarion/therapist (kinda) reader

CW:smut!

@kit-williams @beckyninja @lemon-russ @moodymisty @jaghatai-khock @kit-williams

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Your eyes raised from your work as you heard the door to the office open and close with a quiet click. Laying your cleaning rag aside, you rose to your feet and peered over the desk cautiously, eyes softening as you saw who had entered.

"my lord Aurelian, you gave me a scare, I'm sorry I didn't know you would need this room, I'll finish up and be on my way"

The primarchs stood before you, resplendent in robes of word bearers heraldry, intricate amber threads of holy scripture woven into the flowing silken gambeson. His hard eyes softened as they found your small figure and he wove his way around towards you, seating his large frame on a chaise lounge as he followed your movement with a lilac stare. He patted the cushion next to him and gestured his head.

"actually, I was hoping to find you. join me?" He questioned softly.

You threw a soft smile towards your lord as you perched in the edge of the seat. It was not uncommon for the colchisian to seek out your company and ear. He had found you to be a quiet listener and a sound advisor on matter or a more personal nature. He spent a lot of your time together relaying his childhood on colchis, the abuse at the hands of its priests, and the fervent beliefs that carried him through dark nights. In turn, you provided words of comfort and perspective he had not found anywhere else, easing the burdens on his mind as he listened to your soothing tones.

"of course, my lord, I am at your disposal"

He fidgeted slightly as you sat, his large fingers intertwined together before separating and fiddling with a loose thread on his tunic.

"I have a question I would ask of you, though I beg your answer be of your own thoughts and not one of duty"

Your frowned slightly, brows furrowed as you opened your mouth to speak, before the sound of the door opening again drew your attention.

The soft swishing of robes and the scuffing of boots heralded the arrival of another.

Mortarion, primarch of the death guard cast a long shadow across the room as he glared at you seated beside his brother. His ashen skin almost lucent in the dark light of the study.

"Lorgar" he growled, eyeing the priest suspiciously as he stalked slowly towards the edge of the seat, sea green robes sweeping the floor as positioning himself behind you like a jealous guard dog. "I need this serf, I will return her to you later, should you need her"

Lorgar shook his head, not moving from his seat as he eyed his sibling with equal distrust. "Alas, brother, I have a need of her also." He leaned forward slightly, threading his fingers into a peak. "She has provided comfort to me and I am in need of her perspective"

Mortarion eyebrows shot up towards his brow as he heard his brother's words. "Perspective from a baseline Lorgar? How you have lowered yourself" he sneered, leaning forward, unwilling to admit he has come for the exact same reason.

Lorgar's burnished skin flushed with rage as he purses his lips, biting back a snide he response, he quirked a brow quizzically a the shrouded giant.

"and pray, mighty death guard, what do you seek out the little serf for?"

You raised your hands at the lords, placating their rage with gentle movements as the air between them seemed the crackle with tension.

"my lord please! Do not allow me to be the cause of a petty squabble, I am duty bound to aid however I can, please, I beg you, let us discuss this sensibly! My ear is not so limited I cannot listen to you both"

"but, my lady, I do not just want your ear"

You blinked slowly as Lorgar's hand stroked your thigh, his touch sending goosebumps across your body. You eyes trailed from his grip to meet his face, his eyes dark as he lent down towards you and gently brushed your lips with his own as his other hand slid up your neck to your chin, holding your head up as he pressed into you. You felt yourself go limp in his touch and sighed into his kiss, your own hand moving to cup his cheek as he depends the touch, running his tongue along your lip and humming as you parted them allowing him to taste you.

Your thumb ran across the intricate tattoos on his face as you sucked his tongue, earning a groan from the man and a tight squeeze of your leg at your action. You pulled away from him and smirked slightly, relishing in the way his eyes fluttered open and his lips parted in a pant as you withdrew. Your gaze trailed across his skin, almost bronze under the harsh light and flushed from your touch. His eyes, violet and bright as amethyst, bore into your own as he blinked at you slowly before casting his sight to something behind you. You barely registered a lithe hand grasping your chin before your head was turned and another set of lips smashed forcefully against your own, cold fingers firmly gripping your jaw as his mouth worked against yours. The touch was rough in comparison and you gasped as the new hands roughly handled you, twisting in your hair and tangling in your clothes. Your head was roughly pulled back as mortarion' s burning stare devoured you.

You lent back against the leather sofa, looking between the two men breathlessly.

"my lord, I really don't think this is appropriate, a serf is not... Respectable for a primarch" you finally sighed as you ran your hands through your hair.

Lorgar looked away and rose from his seat, palming his hand across the crown of his head as he spun away from you. The gold ink of his tattoos reflected faintly as he paced backwards and forwards in front of you. Mortarion watched him as he moved before turning his amber gaze back to you, a small grimace creasing his lips.

"I don't care" he hissed. Reaching over he gripped your ankles, sliding you down to sofa length ways with a squeal, your head resting on the arm rest as his large hands moved from your calves upwards, pausing before flipping the fabric of your skirt over your stomach. The pale skin of his face flushed as his eyes wandered from your face, down to your panties, lingering on the dark wet patch discoloring the crotch of the lacy material. He sneered as he ran a finger along the slick material, earning a shuddering gasp from you. "You seem to be enjoying this a lot for something that isn't appropriate" he glanced back to the hulking figure who had stopped wondering to watch your interaction unfold.

"I'm willing to share, but if you're too proper to engage in such things, all the more for me" he ran his tongue along his dry lips and continued to press into your soaked clothed cored with a long callused finger, soaking up the sweet noises you made as he pulled the lace off you and lazily rubbed a circle into your flesh.

Lorgar watched hungrily as mortarion's head dipped between your thighs, he saw the way your body shuddered and your chest heaved as the primarch lapped at your cunt, heard the moans and heavy breaths. Your hands tangled in long hair and pushed mortarion's head down as your hips rise to meet his lips.

Lorgar moved his hand down to his crotch, palming his heavy erection through the material as he watched you squirm, lilac eye almost black from his blow pupils, dilated in arousal. He felt something inside him snap and muttering prayers to the emperor and holy terra he stormed forward, towards the end of the sofa where your head rested.

You looked up through heavy lidded, meeting the starved stare of the urizen before his soft hands gently guided your head backward, bending your neck over the armrest before fumbling with his trousers. You gasp as he released his throbbing cock, the thick member bouncing against his stomach as he pulled it free. He took the base of his shaft in one hand, guiding it into your open mouth and stroking your cheek with his other, muttering scared words, blessing the sanctity of your mouth as he slid himself slowly towards your throat.

Mortarion pulled his head away and admired his work, your cunt twitching and soaked from his touch, before looking up at his brother, smirking as he finally caved and took you. Settling on his knees between your legs and lifting your ass to meet him, He dropped his own bottoms and pulled his dick out, jerking his rough palm along his own length before rubbing the tip against your wet hole and admiring the way your stretched and spasmed to accommodate his size, strong digits leaving bruise in the soft fat of your thighs as he held you still.

You gasped around Lorgar, you thin fingers lashing out and squeezing his strong thighs as you felt mortarion enter you. His girth stretching you to your limit as you tried to cry out, finding your voice caught in your throat as lorgar thrust forward, his tip tickling the back of your throat. You felt your brain melting into hot mush as you were filled, mind blank as the primarchs thrust into you from both ends. Lorgar's heavy balls slapping into the bridge of your nose as he fucked your mouth and you ran your tongue along the hot hard dick in your mouth, tasting precum as you swirled along a vein towards his glans, savoring his stuttered groan as his gentle touch found your breasts, pinching your nipples and twisting them, you hummed, allowing the vibrations to reverberate through your mouth into his sex.

Mortarion suddenly thrust hard, demanding your mind return to him, bending you to his touch as he drove into your wet pussy, his limp hair tickled the flushed skin on your stomach as he leaned over, fucking you as deep as he could, you core warm and wet, tightened and spasmed around him as he rubbed against your G spot with each motion.

"all your advice was just words of temptation" he hissed, pile driving your sopping cunt, spurred on by your muffled cries "whorish words to corrupt us"

Lorgar nodded in agreement, swear glistened from his bald head as he slid relentlessly past your lips. "Do not fear, little one" he grunted, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration "I will drive the holy doctrine deep into you"

You could only close your eyes and cry out in muffled pleasure as the titans used you, your body bouncing between them as they fucked you senseless. The knot in your stomach tightening and snapping free over and over as your orgasm ripped through your body with each thrust.

Lorgar's soft voice reached your ears as his great hand found your throat, tightening around it gently.

"accept this from me, let me fill you," he panted, his movement becoming uncoordinated as he neared his end, you blinked up at him, doe eyes hazy and wet from tears as you lathered your tongue around his tip. He rammed his prick against the back of your throat as he came and you gagged as the salty fluid rushed into your mouth, spilling out from your mouth and dripping down your face as he pulled out panting.

Mortarion followed close behind, cursing at you as he felt your walls flutter around him. "Your cunt pleases me as much as your words" he growled, jerking into your erratically as he drove towards his own high "such a good serf, comforting her lords" your pussy righted at his words and he groaned as he finished, spending himself within you as he shuddered, pumping his seed deep inside.

Pulling out, he spread your lips as he watched his cum leak from you, nodding to himself. Stepping back and tidying himself, he stood beside Lorgar as they both looked down at the mess. You lay twitching and heaving, cum leaking from your face and used whole as you shuddered in pleasured aftershocks.

"we have been blessed this day, death lord" Lorgar sighed, signing an aquilla across his chest as he turned to look at his companion, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps, this is an arrangement that could be... Revisited?"

Mortarion shrugged the hand off, turned back to the door to leave. "That would be amendable" he offered, before swinging the door open and taking his leave.

You turned your head at the sound and watched through glassy eyes as the word bearer gazed down at you.

"we should clean you up and offer our praises to the lords for your service to the imperium"

[kit-williams]

Little Gift

@moodymisty peer pressured meeeeeeeee

tw: some tokophobia?

NOTE: I CAN'T APPARENTLY WRITE HAPPY MORTARION

The day finally came and left... and Mortarion was a nervous wreck... internally. He could hear the voice in the back of his mind berate him as he couldn't be in there with her... back on Barbarus he had heard enough women giving birth to know it was unpleasant. Another reason his felt that bubble of anxiety was he was afraid of what he's helped made... he wasn't like a martyr like Corvus who would probably be beside himself if he impregnated a woman. But, he knew they were hand crafter abominations as Father liked to spout that they were all made with some design in mind.

He snorts as it would probably have been better to make them all Eunuchs or some genderless parody of the human form then maybe he would have spared you whatever the two of you made. Mortarion was also scared of it being some abomination... something malformed and unable to live long... he was scared that you would be traumatized and the fearful small boy in his psychi was so scared that he would be alone again.

"My Lord Primarch." A midwife comes out and averts her gaze as he looks over. She took his grunt as her to continue, "She's ready to see you."

Mortarion walked into the sterile room now empty of the once many occupants before it all started and he left. He looks at you being pale and in a sense deflated... he's studied up on what this will have done to you. You're topless as there on your chest with blood clinging to the bottom of their tiny feet is a newborn... your newborn... his newborn... his throat tightens as he looks at the way you look at him now lovingly.

"Mortarion." You whisper, "They're so precious."

He walks closer and looks down at the baby on your chest. His chest feels so tight... as you look at the helpless creature... no not creature... it was his baby too... he couldn't deny the fact any more. The peach fuzz on the top of their head... the fact they had no smell... his tears hit your shoulder as he ghosts a finger along the tiny spine of their back, a spine probably no wider than one of his fingers, in fact his fingers are probably wider. He kneels down, his eyes darting over the face that looks so old at the same time of being so young. "I... I shouldn't..." He wheezes as he didn't deserve to create... he was no crafter but none of them much less him deserved to create life.

"Do you want to hold him?"

Mortarion shook his head as he held your head against his letting himself silently weep in a sense of joy. "I dont deserve it."

"You will hold them one day... and they wont want to be put down by their papa."

Mortarion makes a strangled noise of pain as like Calas they'll look up to him but its so much different from adopting someone to making them. Your arm half hugs his head as you smile tiredly, soothing him as he whispers to you about how amazing you are.

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

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

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @aidathekiller

[lxvvie]

Being in a relationship with Mortarion would consist of:

Your relationship just... becoming. There's no fanfare or explanation for it, especially within the Death Guard. It just happens, a quiet build-up of tension into a sudden realization, and oh...

Unsurprisingly, just as polarizing as Mortarion is to some of the Death Guard, it seems that sentiment has been pushed onto you as well. As for why, you do not know.

It's not conventional, this union you two have. There isn't the physical loneliness and desperation of, say, Angron's, but a pervasive... something is there. There's a push-pull in your dynamic that's frustrating and curious to you both.

...Of course, this push-pull dynamic is mostly on Mortarion's end because he's a stubborn bastard who refuses to admit the true extent of your importance to him. For example, he'll shrug from physical touch while simultaneously craving it. Just a simple brush against his armor is enough to make Mortation.exe stop working.

Mortarion isn't the most talkative person so at the very least it's a one-sided conversation and on the other end of the spectrum, he... says stuff. Sometimes. He actually prefers to listen to you more than anything.

Becoming accustomed to his stares. And Mortarion stares. A LOT. At you especially. Perhaps in doing so, you've learned to put a name to the emotions swirling in those depths. You can pick up on scrutiny quite clearly, though.

Mortarion's affection manifesting as protectiveness more than anything else. Why else would he be your personal Death Guard? Similarly, he does go to great measures to see that you know how to properly defend yourself as well.

Just as he keeps his distance from his brothers, so, too, does he do the same when it comes to you. In fact, it's safe to say that you're virtually nonexistent to... everyone save his sons.

Periods marked by significant time apart. Mortarion has his duties to attend to and you're doing you for the most part, but when he does come around after a prolonged absence, he just looms nearby. You're not out of his sight, though.

In fact, you're not far from his thoughts. Of course, he'd never really say it to you but he DOES inquire about your well-being when he's away. His most loyal sons are also charged with watching over you. Did you know that?

For all of Mortarion's... Mortarioness, if there's one thing you know, it's that he'll be there for you as long as he has breath in his body. Even with the frustration of your relationship, wherever you are, there he will be, psyker or not. Or will he...?

[moodymisty]

Author's note: Meep

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader (no pronouns just uterus implied)

Warnings: Tokophobia, Self deprecation, Dehumanizing kind of language about a fetus lol Morty is cursing his balls for actually working

The news to you, had begun as a bought of sickness.

Mortarion had panicked, worried that his strict decontamination protocol had failed and somehow you'd gotten a pathogen from him, or from something he'd given you. He'd cast suspicion to the new dress he'd gotten you as a gift, vowing to burn it for its perceived transgressions.

You'd quite quickly reassured him you didn't feel that ill, and that it came in waves; like a sour stomach more than a sickness. He still didn't relax, and likely wouldn't until he had a baseline medicae look you over.

He hadn't been there at the time, his men needed to update him on various things concerning his legion- a significantly more important task- and he left you to your check over with the promise that you would update him.

It had been a quick and easy endeavor; You had gotten your diagnosis after a few quick questions, and a blood test.

Pregnant.

It... You had never even considered the idea beyond the overly romantic and at times erotic wandering your mind would do. You don't know why you didn't perceive it as an option; Mortarion is a man, a human one, technically- but you'd never considered this risk. It surely didn't help that Mortarion treated and spoke of his body as if it was broken by various experiments and genetic meddling anyhow.

His return to his quarters was hasty, knowing you would be waiting with whatever news you were given in the time of his absence. When he entered, he soon saw you sitting on the massive bed underneath its canopy.

You insisted on adding it, and Mortarion allowed it after a short bit of pleading. He wouldn't admit it, but he appreciates it now; he enjoys the feeling of security the curtains give his bed as he lays with you surrounded by them. Like a den.

"What did they say?"

His voice was more worn, tired. He'd spoken a lot today. Multiple coughing fits and hours of conversation have rendered his voice more harsh than usual. The hesitation that you exuded worried him however, as you wrung your wrists. He was on a knife's edge before he saw your face soften a tad as you prepared to speak.

"I'm pregnant."

You could see the shock spread across his face, his eyes darting around your face as if somehow still confused. Once it settled more, sinking in his mind like debris in a lake, he stepped closer to you as his ruined throat whispered roughly.

He sounded... Dumbfounded.

"I didn't think..."

He seemed confused, almost upset- you were worried for a moment, until he spoke again a bit louder and clarified the turbulence in his mind.

"I... I am sorry."

"I did this to you, I put that in you, I- I didn't think I even could-"

He shocked you with the sudden overwhelming headiness of guilt he exuded. His hands weighed heavy in your lap as he sank to his knees in front of you. His head hung low looking at your belly, and ever since the word of your condition left your lips, he hadn't looked you in the eyes.

He spoke as if the child inside of you was a parasite, a disgusting abomination he had inflicted upon you.

"Please forgive me, I can remedy this. I promise you I will fix this, I won't have you suffer such a disgusting sanguisige for my own ignorance."

You slipped your hands into his thin hair, feeling it against your skin. He showed little reaction, consumed by his own prostration.

"Mortarion..."

Your brow furrowed, watching his face contort with self hated. His hands tightened on the fabric of your skirt but not enough to damage it.

"I had no intent to do this, to make you carry such a creature, I will f-" You dared to interrupt him before he continued more, the rasp of his dry throat roughing his words like the most course sandpaper.

"Tari, what is there to fix?"

He froze, looking at you confused. You tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear and smiled.

"Now that the surprise is over, i couldn't be happier." You lost that smile a bit, remembering snippets of things he's told you of his past.

"With the way you always spoke about your body, I," you made sure not to mention his name- Necare- and ruin the moment.

"I didn't know if it was possible. But," You laughed. "It is."

Mortarion looked at you wide eyed, hands still in your lap gripping your skirt. His prostrating ended as you kept talking, watching sheer disbelief cross his face. He seemed so shocked that you weren't sobbing, weren't crying for him to tear the embryo out of you before it grew and latched tighter to your body like a leech, and cursing him for the sheer gall of him to impregnate you.

In reality, you were excited.

"Recently, I've been thinking about having a baby. I wonder if it was fate. Or maybe someone telling me I'd gotten my wish and just didn't know quite yet." You brushed your palm against his cheek, watching his glassy, disbelief filled eyes gaze at you.

"I hope they look like you, Tari."

[pallysuune]

Summery: Most of the villagers were afraid of Mortarion, but you, one of the people he had saved from his father's grasp, couldn't help but be drawn to him. You grow closer to him, and, after a celebration in town one night, he's curious about a few things he observed, and you're more than happy to indulge him.

Pairing: Mortarion/Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, people treating Morty badly, smut, first times

A/N: I just really love Mortarion, okay? A good part of the beginning is referenced from The Buried Dagger, because why not? XD

Word count: 4314

They shunned him. Maybe too many of them remembered when he had stood alongside the monsters the Overlords sent. Or maybe it was just because he looked different. You could still remember the first moment you saw him, and that made it hard to fear him. 

You'd been foolish, out too far from the town, in a field trying to finish before the night set in. You were gathering ears of corn, and you really didn't want to have to return tomorrow, so you were working later than you should have. Still, you had thought you were safe - until the horse attached to the cart laden down with your harvest started stomping and snorting and making a sound you'd never heard from it before. You hadn't stopped to think, you'd turned to run. But it was already too late. An undead stench washed over you. Claws grabbed you, and you were pulled away. 

You and other captives were put inside some sort of machine, a crawler that inched its way up the mountain, carrying you all to the Overlords for whatever reason. You recognized a few faces among those around you. Elias Wrinn from the farm down the way. Lanie Kren from the bakery. Calas Typhon from the town. People were avoiding the last. Everyone knew him, and everyone knew he was wrong somehow. 

Yet, where everyone else seemed to be despairing, only Calas was looking around with bright, alert eyes. He was thinking, and he was not yet defeated. 

You'd shifted a little closer to him. “Do you have a plan?” You whispered. 

His eyes had darted to you, but he didn't speak. 

But he did have a plan. One that hinged around an old breathing mask, a rusty piece of metal, and Necare’s own attack dog. Mortarion. The reaper. 

It was probably best he hadn't told you his plan. You would have thought he was insane. 

It wasn't long later that he whispered, “Cover your head,” to you. You glanced at him and then did so, tucking your head between your knees and wrapping your arms over it. 

A few heartbeats later, an explosion ripped through the crawler. You were choked by smoke that smelled of gunpowder and sulfur. You covered your face with your hands, coughing, when a breathing mask was shoved into them. You looked up, squinting through the burning smoke, to see Calas, with a mask of his own, shoving on the hatch at the top of the crawler. He slammed it with his shoulder once, twice, three times. It buckled and swung open, clanging. Calas was the first one up and out, and soon enough, everyone else was scrambling out, too. 

As you climbed up and out, you saw a fortress of slick gray stone, and attop the battlements, you saw him. A tall, gaunt young man standing there, staring in shock at you and the other humans. His long black hair clung to his face in the moist vapor of the upper ranges. Calas was already running toward him, shouting. 

You didn't have long to watch Calas, though, as the monsters of the Overlord bore down on you and the other humans. You screamed, dropping your breathing mask. Acidic, poisonous air assaulted your lungs, and you dropped to your knees, coughing and scrambling for the mask in the mist. You found it and pressed it to your face, dragging in hard breaths. 

Everything was a nightmare of screaming and blood and unliving limbs. People died around you. Claws shredded the back of your shirt, but, mercifully, missed your skin. Amid the chaos, there was a gunshot. You looked past the press of bodies and found him, Mortarion, Necare's son, had jumped down into the boggy ground in front of his keep. He was… 

He was killing the golems. 

He was helping you and the other humans. 

The monsters turned toward him, sensing that he was the bigger threat at the moment. You could only stare, your heart pounding in your chest as he and Calas were swamped by the monsters, and yet kept fighting. Mortarion had a chain with a hook on the end that he swung with lethal precision, gutting and ripping and crushing. Beside him, Calas fought with a piece of rusty metal, and a kind of power that only the Overlords used. You could understand now why the others had avoided him for so long, but at the moment, you couldn't help but be thankful for that power. 

Mortarion decimated the monsters, and the few left broken ranks and ran for the denser fog higher up. Sirens howled from the mist and when you looked, you could see the orange bobbing of lantern lights. 

The Overlord was coming. 

“Hey!” Someone called out your name, and your head snapped around. Elias Wrinn was the one hollering for you. He and a few of the humans who had survived were scrambling onto the platform of an intact transport crawler. He was motioning you to follow. You staggered to your feet and hurried over, as the old farmer reached down to help pull you up. 

No sooner were you aboard than the vehicle began to slide back down the mountain side. 

“Wait, what about them?” You asked, twisting to look at the woman at the machine's controls. Calas and Mortarion were both still standing in the bloody field, looking up toward the coming army. 

The woman only set her mouth in a grin line. 

You threw yourself against the side of the crawler, leaning out as far as you dared, even as Elias grabbed at you to keep you in. “Calas!” You cried. 

His head snapped around, followed a moment later by Mortarion's. Both of them just looked at the crawler and you humans, making no efforts to follow. You saw Calas turn to speak to Mortarion, but you were too far to hear what was being said. You tried to cry out again, but neither of them seemed to pay any attention. Soon enough, the crawler had descended a ridge and you couldn't see them anymore. 

You sat back heavily, your heart leaden in your chest. They had saved you, and you all had just left them there. 

But you didn't ask the other survivors to go back, either. You were ashamed, but you wanted to live. Enough to turn your back on them. 

You remembered that feeling hours later when Mortarion and Calas had stumbled into town.

The townspeople had always been a little wary of Calas, and that did not change now. To make it worse, they all knew who Mortarion was. The townspeople argued. Many were afraid that Necare would come and kill all of you now, for rebelling against him. Others wanted Calas and Mortarion out to death. You and the other survivors spoke up on their behalf, though, arguing how they had saved you, how you would all be dead and without them. But most folks still didn't want them in town. In the end, Elias suggested letting them both stay in a rundown stable at the edge of the township, with some firewood and food. 

For days, the whole settlement waited for retribution from the Overlords. You watched day in and day out as Mortarion stood just outside that stable, looking to the mountain, unmoving as a statue. A sentinel of some kind. Waiting like all the rest of you. But nothing happened, and eventually things returned to normal. 

But for you, the memory of running and leaving them behind never left. The guilt pulled at you. There was what drove you to make your way out to the stable with a small basket of bread. You stopped outside the closed door and raised a hand to knock, but before you had the chance, it was already being pulled open. You started and looked up into eyes the pale yellow of the sky at dawn. Mortarion looked down at you, his long hair hanging in front of his face. He was thin and gaunt, and yet there was something about him that was attractive anyway. 

You took a step back, lowering your eyes from his, and held up the basket in your hands. “Um… I brought bread.”

He looked down at the basket in your hands, and then took a step back, letting you step into the stable. 

Calas was sitting next to a fire pit. He looked up at you as he stepped in, a brow arched. He had a distinctly unimpressed look on his face as you stepped closer. “What’s this then?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” you said, your voice soft. You set the basket down, and glanced toward Mortarion as he moved over to the fire again. He peered down into the basket, but didn’t reach for it. “You both saved us. And we repaid you with this.” You glanced around at the stables. 

Calas snorted. “It’s not surprising.”

“No, but it’s still wrong,” you said firmly. 

He opened his mouth to argue with you when Mortarion cut in, “Thank you.”

Calas snorted and reached for a piece of bread. You lingered there awkwardly, unsure what to do. Mortarion sat down at the fire, and they both looked up at you. Calas’ expression turned exasperated. “Well? Sit down, then,” he huffed. 

You hurriedly sat down. Mortarion handed you a bowl of watery stew. 

And that was how you found yourself eating dinner with them. It wasn't the last time, either. More and more, you found yourself venturing out to the stable after your work to eat with them, or just to talk. You realized very quickly that Mortarion, for how dangerous and incredibly intelligent he was, had no idea how to be a person.  He spent a lot of time just watching the townspeople, like he was trying to figure them out. One day, he simply walked out of the stable and began to help in the fields, pulling a huge curved blade from a broken threshing machine to use as a scythe. He didn't ask permission, and no one tried to stop him. He worked so much faster than anyone else, soon enough you, and many of the other workers, were just following behind him, gathering up the wheat he cut down. 

That night, the townspeople celebrated having such a good harvest. The community hall was filled with laughter and music for the first time in so very, very long. Even you joined in, letting yourself relax for a night, safe among the other people, in the firelight that kept the mist and monsters away. You ate and drank, and sang loudly with everyone else. And when the night grew late, and people were paying less attention, you snuck some food that you could take to Mortarion and Calas in the morning. 

You slipped out the back with your stolen treasures, determined to make sure that Mortarion was thanked, as he was the one to make this all possible. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you realized you weren't the only person behind the community building. But the sounds of breathy moans soon reassured you that they weren't paying you any kind. Flushing a little, you hurried back home. 

You were busy the next day, and didn't make it out to the stable until late afternoon. The food you had snuck was still good, so you packed it all up and headed out. You found Mortarion just returning from the field, his hair braided loosely, and a scarf around his lower face and neck. He pulled it down casually as he watched you approach. 

“I brought you some things,” you chirped with a smile up at him, swinging your basket. 

His expression was as guarded as always, but he nodded, stepping inside and holding the door for you. As you came inside, you realized he was alone. 

“Where's Calas?”

“He went to the blacksmith. Some of the tools needed sharpening,” Mortarion answered. His voice was deep and rumbling, and incredibly pleasant to your ears. 

“Well, he can have some when he gets back, then,” you declared. 

You saw Mortarion's expression soften just a fraction as you smiled at him before beginning to unpack what you'd brought. Smoked meats, bread, cheese, and, as a special treat, a loaf of cakey bread with dried fruits in it. 

You and Mortarion sat and ate. After a few moments, he spoke up. “I saw your people celebrating last night.”

“Yeah. We've never had so much of the harvest in so early. It gives us a chance to process it for storage better. It's a huge help to us, and we owe it all to you,” you smiled. 

You thought you caught a pleased look in his eyes before he glanced away. “ I heard something rhythmic and lilting from the hall.”

Pausing, you considered the comment. Lilting? “Do you mean singing? We were singing pretty loudly last night, I guess.”

“Singing,” he repeated the word slowly. 

It struck you like a punch to the jaw, and you found yourself just staring at him. “Do you… do you not know what singing is? What music is?”

He didn't answer. You were aware that he didn't like admitting he didn't know something, but the answer was obvious. He didn't. Singing was one of the few light things you and the other people there had. One of the few things that brought some joy and happiness during long hours in the field. You couldn't imagine living a life without knowing what singing was. It broke your heart to think he had lived such a barren life. 

“Do you… would you like me to sing for you?” You asked softly. Normally you wouldn't, but things were different with him. Your desire to share this part of humanity with him was stronger than your fear of being judged.

He looked over and met your eyes, and nodded. 

It took a second for you to think of a good song. You set down the piece of fruit studded bread, took a breath, and began to sing an old lullaby for him. Mortarion turned his whole attention to you, his eyes focused and bright, as if he was in wonder at what he was hearing. The attention brought more heat to your cheeks. 

When you finished, the two of you sat in silence for a moment. Just long enough for you to begin to get awkward. You were starting to wonder if you should leave when Mortarion cleared his throat and turned to you. 

“There is something I wanted to try, if you don't mind,” he said. 

You offered him a smile. “Of course.” Maybe he has seen the dancing the night before? The thought sent a flutter of warmth through you, bubbling and buzzing. 

But it wasn't a dance he asked for. Instead, he shifted closer to you and, before you could really register what was going on, leaned in and smacked his lips against yours. It was awkward and a little aggressive, as if he was treating it like an attack of some sort.

You were too stunned to respond before he pulled back, a frown pulling at his chapped lips. “That was not as pleasant as it looked,” he said, more to himself than to you. 

A huff of a breath left you roughly as you looked at him incredulously. “O-of course it wasn't! You're not supposed to do it like that!”

His eyes narrowed, and for a second, you remembered why everyone was still so scared of him, even if you pushed aside the question quickly.

“Here, let me…” you trailed off and scooted a little closer to him. 

Gently, you cupped his cheek and leaned in slowly. He tensed slightly, but did not move away. Your lips brushed his, before you pressed them together again, softer this time. Your lips slotted with his, coaxing them into kissing you in return. It took a moment before he finally began to relax, his arms curling around you to draw you close to him. Leaning into his chest, the hand on his cheek slid back to comb your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head. 

You had to admit, he was a quick learner. 

It didn't take him long to catch on, adjusting how he kissed you to what you seemed to like most. Though, when your tongue brushed his bottom lip, he did jump slightly, adorably. He mimicked the little lick, and you opened your mouth, letting his tongue slip inside. He gave a low, surprised moan, pressing closer to you. 

He took his time exploring your mouth, and slowly his hands moved over your body, until you were trembling in his lap. His fingers brushed your lower stomach and lingered there. By now, you had a good idea what it was that he'd seen - the same moaning couple you had hurried away from. You had been embarrassed hearing it then, but now you were practically vibrating, waiting to see what he would do.

“There is more,” he breathed against your lips. His fingertips dug into your stomach ever so slightly. 

You nodded breathlessly, your lips ghosting against his with the movement. Your whole body felt hot, a buzzing desire settling in your core. “Go on.”

You pressed forward into another kiss. Mortarion sighed. His fingers slid lower, beneath the waist of your pants and into your underwear. A thick finger brushed over your outer lips slowly, tracing them. A groan left him in a gusty sigh as he felt how wet you were. 

His finger brushed your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through you. You gasped, your hips bucking up against his hand. He pulled back from the kiss, staring at your face in awe as he repeated the motion. You whimpered, your whole expression crumpling with pleasure. He rolled his finger over the bud a third time. Your hand flew down to grab his before he could continue and it got to be too much. He froze the second you touched him, his eyes darting up to yours. 

“Like this,” you murmured, even as your face burned hot, embarrassed and horribly turned on, both. Still, the last thing on your mind was stopping, so you shifted a little closer to him, turning to put your back against his chest, so his arm curled around you. You slid your hand down to cover his,  wiggling your pants down a little lower around your knees to give more room for you both as you spread your legs a little bit. You couldn’t see him with how you were sitting now, but you could still practically feel his eyes on you. 

Your hand pressed gently over his, guiding one of his fingers past your wet folds, sinking into you. He followed your movements diligently, as you  pushed both your finger and his into your pussy, working them in and out of you. You moaned, your eyes fluttering closed as you melted back against his chest. He began to take over, controlling the rhythm as you just kept your hand pressed over his, following his every move. 

“Mortarion,” you sighed breathlessly. 

You could literally feel him shiver behind you. 

He leaned down, his cheek pressed to the side of your head, his eyes focused unerringly on where your fingers disappeared into your heat. He began to move faster, and you followed his lead as he pressed a second finger into you, stretching you even more around him with the most delicious sort of pleasure. You couldn’t keep yourself quiet any longer, moans spilling from your lips as he fucked you quickly with his fingers, the palm of his hand pressing against your clit. Your hips bucked, grinding against it, desperate for more friction as you squirmed and trembled in his arms. It felt so good, every thought driven from your mind except the feeling of him around you and inside you. 

Your moans raised to a high whine, desperate, close already to your peak. Mortarion tilted his head slightly, practically nuzzling at your hair. He pressed the heel of his hand against your clit, plunging his fingers deep into your pussy. It all just became too much. You keened as you came around his fingers, shaking in his arms, your sex spasming tight around both your fingers and his, still buried  in you, soaking you both with your release. He kept fingering you through it, drawing it out until you were pulling at his hand, throwing your head from side to side as it began to become too much. 

He slipped his fingers out of you as you slumped in his arms, panting, shivering with the aftermath of your pleasure. He lifted his hand to his lips, licking them curiously, tentatively, before giving a hum and beginning to suck them clean. You tilted your head to watch him, heat coiling through your blood at the sight of how eagerly he sucked your juices from his fingers. Still leaning back against him, you could feel how hard he was, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants and pressing against your ass. 

A shiver ran through you as you registered the feeling. Oh, you wanted him. Badly. 

Managing to marshal your somewhat shaky body, you sat up and turned toward him. His eyes snapped immediately to you, intent and sharp. Not wary, like they usually were, but still very focused. You wet your lips and reached for his pants, untying the laces with trembling fingers. He didn’t stop you, but you heard his breathing pick up as you pulled his pants open. You reached in, your fingers grazing his length. He groaned. His eyes sliding shut. You curled your fingers around him to pull him free. You stroked him, looking down to watch a bead of precum ooze from the tip. You swiped your thumb through it, drawing a shiver from him again. 

Wetting your lips, you used your free hand to pull off your own pants and then climbed onto his lap, guiding his cock to your entrance. He groaned, his hands going to your hips and gripping hard. You rubbed him against your pussy, soaking him in your slick wetness before pressing his cockhead against your entrance and slowly beginning to sink down onto him. 

“Oh fuck,” you breathed, at the same moment he moaned lowly. 

His arms wound around you, pulling you flush against his chest, holding you there. His forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed. You could feel the heat of his breath against your skin as he panted softly and pulled you slowly down onto him. He was thick, stretching you, filling you impossibly full. His hips rocked up, again and again, in short little thrusts until he was finally balls deep in you. You could swear you felt him all the way in your throat. You were breathless, like his cock didn’t leave any room in your for air. You closed your own eyes, soaking in the intimacy of the position, and the feeling of his body. Your arms wound around his neck, threading through his hair. He lifted you and then thrust up into you again. He shuddered, swore, and then his frayed patience finally broke. 

His arms tightened around you as he surged up, thrusting hard into you, fucking you quickly and roughly. You squealed, scrabbling at his back, clinging to him desperately. It was all you could do as he fucked you. 

Took you. Claimed you. 

Already, you knew nothing would ever match up to this. No one would ever match up to him after everything. 

You threw your head back, keening, bucking your hips back as best you could against his. He breathed your name, curling into you, his lips pressing to your neck. It became a chant, a mantra, the closest thing to a prayer he would ever say as he whispered your name again and again, interspersed with soft pleas and encouraging coos. You were barely able to register the words. The pleasure was too much, your mind driven blank by the feeling of his cock inside you. 

You came around him suddenly, keening, your nails digging into his shoulder. He gave a shuddering groan as he slammed up into you, and then ground deep, savoring the way your pussy squeezed and fluttered around him, letting it drag him over the edge too. Heat flooded you as he came, pumping his seed deep into your. 

Slowly, you both came down from the high of your releases, panting softly. You were trembling in his arms, exhausted, but floating in the lingering pleasure. Mortarion’s breath slowed, but he was not at all inclined to release you, cradling him close to his chest. “Stay here tonight?” he murmured. 

You nodded, snuggling deeper against him. 

It took a few moments before you finally slipped off his lap, prompting twin groans from both of you. You cleaned up as best you could, got dressed again, and settled in his lap once more. 

By the time Calas returned, night had set in, and you were asleep in Mortarion’s lap. He paused in the doorway, looking at the two of you with his brows arched. Mortarion looked up at him, as if challenging him to say anything about it. With a snort, Calas looked away, his eyes landing on the basket of food you’d brought with you earlier. He moved over, nudging it with his toe. “Did you at least leave me some?”

Mortarion’s expression softened slightly, and he shifted you in his lap, curling you close to him as he moved over a little himself, making room at the fire for his friend. “A little.”

There was another snort as he sat down, pulling the basket in front of him and beginning to look through it, as a comfortable, companionable silence fell over the stable. 

[green-square-anon]

Everyone always talks about getting their back blown out during multiple orgasm sex by a primarch the first time but what about the opposite?

It turns out that primarch or not certain things were universal. Primarchs having sex for the first time and coming prematurely? Be that embarrassingly early, right as the clothes came off or in their pants.

- The likes of Mortarion or Konrad Curze being so unused to affectionate loving touch, let alone affectionate touch involving praising them, that they blow at damn near nothing. Bonus point if it is that they are used to violence but it's the very fact that the touch is gentle that breaks them

- Lorgars years of (fanon) religious repression making it so that as soon as he sees his partner naked he can't hold it back and finishes on the spot

- Someone like Rogal Dorn not at all being stoic and self contained

- Sanguinius litterally puffing up with his feathers (lol) and going the equivalent of "Oh my goodness" apologizing (he just seems like someone who would say "oh my goodness")

No matter who the primarch is embarrassed beyond belief and their partner not only doesn't mind but, if a baseline human, gets the mother of all ego boosts. They may either comfort or tease them or both. Likely both. Don't worry this is not to say their partner won't get pleasure either, oh they will. There's practice and taking off the edge for that, but that first time....