#Mortarion x reader

[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.

[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…

[toto-the-cactus]

Another one for the bitches out there that love the stink man.

Couldn't help writing something soft and cute so hope yall like it.

Summary: Mortarion's approach to fatherhood.

Pairing: Mortarion x Reader (Female)

TW: None that I know

Part 1 - Part 2

Little and Precious

She was… so tiny… incredibly so.

Despite the reassurances from one of the midwives about the baby having been born larger than the average mortal newborn, Mortarion couldn’t help but look in wonder and a daze at the sleeping form of the little thing that had been growing within your body. The Primarch knew that he was ridiculously big in comparison, yet that didn’t calm the prevalent notion that she was just too small or too fragile, following almost obsessively the up and down of her chest while she let out unconscious whimpers and coos. Either because she was already feeling hungry or simply because of the looming presence of her father, it was hard to say.

She hadn’t even cried that much after the birth, instantly latching onto you to seek a comfort that not even him knew… but Mortarion had felt oddly relieved and happy at how easily the baby recognized you as her mother in those instances. To know that his child was loved. Although, a tiny part of him also felt envious. As if he was being left out of what was supposed to be his budding family too.

He had prepared the nursery obsessively to the smallest of details so it could be worthy of his daughter; from a precious crib, carved and painted with depictions of colorful flowers like the ones from your little garden, to walls and windows sealed or barricaded to stop the harsh outside of Barbarus to even come close to the newborn. You had told him that toys could wait until she was older but that some soft stuffed dolls could work for her to play or hug and so, he made sure to bring an entire vault of them.

The surrealism of the whole situation had yet to properly settle on his mind, even if the baby was already born and sleeping right in front of him, completely clueless to the storm her precious form caused to his mind.

It had been just a few weeks after you went into labor but the toll it took on your body was enough to leave you out of commission even longer which made the baby quite moody at the lack of her mother’s presence. Your poor tired and sore shape only being forcibly awakened to dutifully breastfeed the squirming newborn and soothing the air she may have inside her stomach which, considering how big your girl was, tired your arms very fast.

That’s when you had encouraged Mortarion to spend time with his daughter.

Considering his upbringing, the Pale King felt a bit unsure at the idea to attempt any paternal approach towards the precious bud that you have birthed. The possibility of having his only daughter hating him by the smallest mistake and not being able to fix it terrified him.

He wanted to be a better father than the one he has (had) and yet, he didn’t even know how one should act as a good parent in the first place. You were a natural as a mother, but Mortarion was completely lost here.

And now, looking at his daughter inside her crib only made the Primarch even more self-conscious as he had forgotten how terrifyingly small she was. She wouldn’t even fit on his palm so how could Mortarion ever dream of holding her to form any sort of bond.

This was a mistake. He should wait until you are here with him and…

The baby woke up; nose scrunched up and squirming incessantly as if she was fighting her blanket off while she let out some little sobs and whimpers.

Mortarion was completely left clueless at what he needed to do to sooth his daughter’s frustration. His huge figure just stayed put while his hands hovered close but uselessly as tears seemed to well up in the eyes of the newborn until she looked at him and, against anything that he may had expected, shook her little arms as in an clumsy attempt to reach him.

He frowned, unsure at any action to take but let instinct guide him mostly.

The Primarch bent closer to the crib and cupped his hands as if he was grabbing water, carefully holding and lifting his little girl, who was still wrapped on her purple blanket, with the grace of a terrified giant handling fine crystal… and something inside his chest constricted painfully when the small (oh so small) body of his daughter seemed to find comfort in the hands of her father.

All whimpers and whines quieted down slowly to meager sniffles and cooing, while her half-closed eyes stared at him in what he perceived as curiosity.

His daughter… his precious blooming flower… Mortarion felt something itchy behind his eyes.

Could she tell that he was her father? Did something as simple as holding her give her enough clues or was she just trying to seek any form of comfort like any mortal baby would do?

The Pale King felt the same constriction of his chest creep up to his throat, but it didn’t feel like one of his coughing fits.

A bit more confident now that nothing bad was happening, Mortarion brought his cupped hands closer which made the baby squirm more in surprise at the sudden movement, staring intently at his face with her fists balled up and kicking her tiny feet.

‘Will you feel afraid of my scarred and pale face, little one?’ he thought depressingly, a gentle thumb coming close to poke at her cheek and caress it with a devotion he only ever showed to his Dearest.

To his astonishment, the newborn opened her hands and reached for his thumb, holding him with all her might and looking at him while giggling. Could mortal babies do this when just weeks old?

His baby… she had looked at him with such excitement by something as simple as holding his thumb between her little hands.

And Mortarion knew at that very instant… yes… he’ll never be like his father because, by just having this tiny precious thing on his hands, made him want to give her the entire universe if she so much as asked for it.

This was true overwhelming love.

My man needs the love, honestly. Some hugs too

[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]

More lore for my insane porn.

Why am I doing this? Does human pet smut need a backstory? If there were a merciful god, wouldn't I be stopped? Some things are never answered. The important thing is I am having fun ✨

Mortarion x F!Reader (prequel 2? Part 3??)

Previous || Next

CW: None for this specific thing. Many for the first one. Many for the future of whatever this is.

TAGS (no one participated in the prayer circle to stop me so it continues): @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk @moodymisty

“Go on, pick.”

Mortarion holds you out at arms length, pointing you at a display of items in colors you couldn’t name, so bright and varied it made your head start to swim.

“Pick?” You parrot, “pick… what? What are they?”

You hear a small huff behind you. “They’re toys. Weren’t you saying you were bored?”

It had been boring. After a week of toting you around, quizzing you on your world, crops, government systems, and various other minutia, you found out that your world did in fact have a ruler, unbeknownst to a simple farmer like yourself, and had happily agreed to join the imperium of man, as it was apparently called.

All Mortarion asked for in payment was you.

“You entertain me.” Was all he had offered as explanation.

And thus you had been stuck in his quarters for two weeks, losing your mind at the lack of work to do. You’d taken up trying to draw, but that only entertained so long. You tried to read, but you were barely literate in your own tongue, let alone what your master called “high gothic”. What use did a farmer have for reading? You’d tried to clean up, but there was barely anything in the room to tidy.

You refocus on the colorful display, reaching out to touch one of the bright objects. ”It’s really soft...” You say, picking up one of the toys. It vaguely looks like some sort of animal, furry with stylized ears, but beyond that you can’t imagine a use for the thing.

“How is it a toy?” You ask, turning to try and look at your new masters face over your shoulder.

He frowns slightly. “What were toys on your planet?”

“Wooden blocks, mostly. Or the Hoop game.” You say, then add with a fond smile, “and dolls, made of water-reeds.”

He sighs. “Well, think of these as the… reed dolls. They are stuffed animals, you’re supposed to find them pleasant.”

You look back to the unnaturally bright creature in your hands. “what color is this?”

You yelp as you are dropped to your feet, stumbling a little.

Mortarion turns you around by the shoulder, face grimacing in disbelief. “I don't enjoy being teased.” He huffs.

You frown. “What-”

“You know purple.” He snaps, but it sounds less angry and more desperate. “You cannot tell me you don't know the color purple.”

You look at the thing in your hands. If you absolutely had to answer, life or death, what color it was, you'd only be able to say not red but not blue.

You look back up to see mortarion's face more stern. “your planet was quite brown and hazy, I suppose.” He said. “I can… understand that.” For a moment you see something flicker behind his gaze, but it is gone before you can guess it.

You tilt your head in a little confusion, intending to ask what he meant, but are turned back to the display instead. Mortarion leans over you to start pointing at the soft creatures.

“Purple.” He says, pointing at the one you held. “Pink, blue, orange…”

You pout. “I know blue-” you point at the pointy eared alien toy, “That's not blue. Blue has more grey in it.”

He sighs. “No, your rivers were not blue, they were just the only thing on that forsaken dirt ball that had a slight hint of blue in it. This is blue.” he says, picking up the bright, smiling creature and handing it to you.

Suddenly, you're being hoisted again, and tucked under the massive man's arm. “you're getting those two, I have chosen for you.” he grumbles. You think you catch him grumble something about doesn't know purple under his breath.

He forces you to pick out a blanket as well, as you'd been complaining about being chilly sleeping on the floor at night. That was true, but you more mean that it is a hard, metal floor, and wanted a bed. You had asked for some straw to weave yourself a proper mattress, but only got an annoyed look in response. He tossed you a pillow to sleep atop instead.

You chose a blanket in pink. You know pink too, but this one is an almost pastel, dusty version that you've never seen in nature. It was pleasant, and didn't hurt your eyes like the other new colors. Plus, it was quilted and full of feathers. He didn’t seem to mind buying something so lavish, so you figure you may as well be comfortable.

When you're finished shopping, Mortarion opens the large satchel he'd taken you out of his room in. You frown, looking up over the toys and blankets in your arms.

“Can't I just walk in…?” You ask.

He presses his mouth to a line. “No.”

You mimic the expression. “I promise I won't try to run again…” you say, referring to the ill fated attempt you'd made to avoid going into the belly of the flying beast when he'd first taken you.

He rolls his eyes. “No. In. And be quiet. I don't want my sons to see you.”

You sigh, shuffling up to the large bag and tossing your new toys inside first. “Can't you just tell them I am some sort of field hand?”

He shakes the bag opening at you. “No. We don't have those, and I don't want them getting strange ideas. In.”

“Stranger than this…?” You mumble to yourself as you crawl into the bag, curling up and situating yourself.

He peers down at you through the opening. “Don't talk back. And there's nothing strange about having a….” He glances away and back quickly, frowning. “A personal serf.”

Your scrunch your brow. “Serf…? But I don't do anything-”

Your words are cut off as he cinches the bag closed and hoists you up, making you squeak in surprise and have to scramble to reposition yourself where you can breathe.

“I said, don't talk back.” He grumbles, setting off on a quick pace that makes you jostle and swing as he walks.

[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.

[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...?

[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. 

[moodymisty]

Part 1

Author's note: I love him

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mortarion's confession, NSFW flashback in the beginning with male masturbation, vomit (nonsexual and unrelated to NSFW scene), gross Morty body stuff, he has zero rizz

The repeated hiss of his respirator is heavy in the stagnant air of the hall, only occasionally losing its smooth crescendo and decline when his throat hitches. His breathing has never been normal- he stopped caring about that sort of thing long ago.

Pale eyes glance around again.

You should be here by now; But he spots nothing familiar.

Did you decide- to for the first time since he first cast his eyes on you- to disobey him? Did something else distract you?

His mind fills with imagery of you wandering off somewhere else, to someone else- and in an impulsive fit of doubt he decides that he would have one of his men drag you here if need be.

He could, and if anything the behavior would be expected of him. Encouraged. You don't make the Pale King wait.

But yet... He waits- patiently- eyes flicking to the entryway every twenty seconds or so. A primarch standing around like a beaten dog waiting for it's master.

Embarrassing.

Attempting to clear his throat Mortarion shifts beneath his clothes, feeling the way they almost stick to his skin. He bathed himself relatively recently by his standards- though instead of the stick of grime and dirt, it's the catch of dried sweat from no less than an hour ago.

He can still feel that sensation in the back of his head, the aftershocks of thoughts and actions forbidden. He hates how this one has lingered. They've all begun to.

His cock throbbed, leaking over his gaunt, pale fingers and making his shaft slicker- and the feeling even more pleasant.

He covered his face full of a warranted shame, grunting and huffing as he ground into his own hand like some sort of feral street dog. His knees cracked, his back ached- he imagined the callused give of his hand was warmer, wetter, tighter- squeezing around him. Pushing back. Trying to push him out; The difference in size too great. The way he was bent made the imagery more vivid, like you were pinned underneath him.

If he closed his eyes tight enough, he could just picture it, though the image was just out of reach- his fingertips ghosting the very edge but unable to grasp it.

He stained the fabric of his bed once he was done, shoving it into the fireplace to burn. No one will ever see the scattering of fabric that is yet burned, nor would they question it even if they did.

How much farther can he let himself fall? Enough that he's found himself overtaken by desires that he once thought were pointless- inconvenient and only satiated out of maintenance, desperate for something he knows he cannot have?

Maybe... Perhaps if he-

If you refuse him, he can abandon this entire pursuit- throw himself back into his work and give not a single thought to you again. You could leave The Endurance and he wouldn't even know you were gone, lost among an endless sea of pointless existences.

Because he can't... he can't keep doing this.

It's consuming his mind- You are consuming his mind.

You eat away at it like a disease bent on devouring him more than the poisons of Barbarus ever have; At least they never impeded with his mental capacity.

As you do right now- your soft eyes eat away at his dried, scarred skin like a flesh eating plague as you come to stand before him, and now his tongue feels as if it's made of lead.

He called you here- coming to you would seem too desperate- and your first words had been to apologize if you had offended him. A smart intuition, because you did offend him; You offended him by refusing to leave his mind, you offended him by refusing to leave him be in the sanctity of his warship, you offended him by offering him what he can only describe as pity.

But pity wears away; You've stayed, endured where your fellows left. For what reasons kept you going? Kept you here? He'd like to know.

"I," Mortarion hesitates for a moment. "I wish to speak to you about a particular matter."

This is it. He is just going to do it. Just get over this, and if you refuse? if you run away from him in fear or disgust? He's down his last remembrancer.

boo hoo. He never wanted them anyhow.

His rusty armor clunks against each other as he shifts. You watch him with expectancy, a soft look on your face that has Mortarion almost at a loss for words, if only for a moment.

He should take off his respirator for this.

It's clunky, gets in the way, he feels like it muffles his speech and baseline humans have trouble understanding him. Their paltry hearing, though it is fact. Though he's never remembered you having an issue with it.

He can feel your eyes watching keenly as he starts to unfasten in, accidentally tangling his hair a bit at the nape of his neck. He hears the hiss as it unseals, and he pulls it away from his face to fasten it to his belt. He feels ok, and takes on full breath of cool Terran air before opening his mouth to let the first unmuffled word pass.

But before a single word can leave his lips he instantly rips into a massive cough, covering his mouth with his hands. He feels spittle and blood from popped blood vessels hit his palms, and his ribs shift uncomfortably as he keels over. He can feel the way his lungs are ripping themselves apart, filling with blood and mucus. The next cough sends him to his knee, his leg plating hitting the ground hard enough to crack the tile beneath him.

He can barely make out your expression standing before him as tears prick the corners of his eyes, and another burst of coughs tear at his throat like the claws of a gauntlet.

You look horrified.

He tries with all his might to tense his throat and halt the hacking, but only manages to suck in just enough breath that it brushes the back of his throat and makes it all worse.

You take a step closer to him, but it's clear there's nothing you can do to help him.

"L-Lord Mortarion! Are you-"

From the incessant coughing his throat seizes up so much, his stomach muscles ache in pain, and he feels a familiar rising warmth in his face and mouth.

No. No no no no no-

Fulgrim's banquet feast from the night before suddenly rises in his throat, then his mouth, and before he can even try stopping it- it's running through his fingers and all over the floor with a disgusting splatter.

After harsh fit of coughing wracks his body, slowly feeling the ache in his chest of his lungs finally healing before it finally secedes; He wipes his eyes to see you standing and staring at him in shock, the primarch's dinner all over the floor in front of you.

Mortarion has had a long life; Longer that yours, by a decent margin. Embarrassment was never something he dealt with.

Now, he feels like he is quite literally going to explode. If the ground were to open up and swallow him, he would probably acquiesce to his fate with little complaint.

No one would miss him. Plus he's sure Garro and Typhon would manage just fine without him.

"Are..."

You look at him with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape. He can see your lips twitch as you try to find the words. He perhaps would understand if your little brain couldn't find any.

"...Are you ok?"

He doesn't quite know how to answer that question, honestly.

His lungs have degraded and rebuilt themselves enough to breathe this cool, poison-less air, and while he had anticipated some coughing, he failed to remember just how... Intense, it could get.

He should have known eating last night was a mistake.

You just seem worried, however- looking at him like he's going to fall right over hands outstretched towards him. You look at him like he's sick, but sick in a way that would could in theory help.

You take a step forward, much to his surprise; Though of course not close enough to risk slipping.

By the Throne- the half thought of that crosses his mind and he wants to cast his own head into his bedchamber's fireplace.

"I-" Mortarion lets out another brief cough; Of which thankfully doesn't lead into another fit. "I am fine."

He is fine- his lungs have adjusted and the air doesn't burn his throat, but you don't seem to take his words seriously. With the deftness of your thin fingers you unwrap the shawl around your shoulders, handing it to him.

"...Here."

He doesn't get what you mean by this at first, staring at the patterned fabric like it in some way offended him. You gesture it out to him again, and he then realizes you're offering it to him to clean up, of which he then begrudgingly grabs, before wiping the bile out of the corners of his mouth and fingers.

The soft fabric of your clothing now destroyed, he balls it up in his fist and holds onto it, discontent to ever dare try and return it to you soiled.

"Lets, lets get you something to drink. I would think you might need one right about now..."

You reach to grasp his hand- the clean one- and try to pull him along, of which he allows, surprisingly.

He lets himself get toted along by someone half his size; A pathetic sight.

He continues to let it happen until you find a serf you can order to get some water, and Mortarion can shirk off to clean his hand and face.

His mouth doesn't taste like bile anymore, at least.

When he sees you again after he's cleaned up, there's an odd look on your face. Your wring your wrists nervously.

"...You were going to say something?" You look at him expectantly, before clarifying. "Before you started coughing, you... You said you wanted to talk to me. What was it?"

He had.

He had wanted to tell you how he felt, and instead he had humiliated himself by coughing blood and vomit all over the floor. He displayed right in front of you that he is a broken, sick and decayed excuse for a man; He was built for death and war, not... this. The fact that he's even allowed himself to make a fool out of himself like this is an embarrassment to the entire legion and reputation he's crafted.

How you could ever look at him the way he so boldly, pathetically, desperately wishes when he- a primarch- just displayed what a vile excuse for a human he is?

Mortarion swallows thickly like there's a literal knot in his throat, before just turning around and walking away.

[wolf-tail]

Mortarion horny thoughts

TW: Hornyposting, feeder kink, internalized fatphobia

Tagging the Hornies: @ms--lobotomy @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets

Okay, we've already talked about Dadbod Guilliman, and how his body is tied to his mental state. He naturally settles around the chubby dad bod range but is a) bad at self care and b) very self conscious. With the right beloved, however, one who made sure he was eating right and getting rest, he'd get some pudge. Though he'd of course be self conscious about it, his beloved would help him learn to accept it (with LOTS of physical affection❤️❤️❤️)

Let's talk about Morty.

I don't think he's naturally skin and bones at his healthiest. Think about it, He's been stuck survival mode almost since he was born, fighting for his life in ways that do NOT allow him to eat, drink, or rest enough, ever. He spent his entire life fighting to prove that he was worthy of living, in a society that took advantage of and abused the dead. He associates endurance with the ability to endure horrible hardship. The man literally huffs and does shots of poison, do you think he knows how to honor his own hunger cues?

Things would get SO much worse under Nurgle. He is so sick the he is no longer capable of metabolizing food properly. I'm pretty sure his digestive system is more tape worm than organs by now. Whatever he's doing at any given moment is guaranteed to be the opposite of self care.

But imagine a beloved that was able to break the yoke of Chaos, to bring back sweet Morty and pull him out the defeatist death spiral of despair that is Nurgle worship...

A beloved who makes sure their boy will never have a chance to ignore an empty tummy....

That boy would pack on the pounds. He'd get CHUNKY.

Lots of big muscles and soft fat🥵🥵🥵

He's a big hottie who's naturally inclined to store fat, good for endurance❤️❤️❤️

Imagine running your hands over your Pale King's softening body, admiring every inch of beautiful flesh, assuring him of the beauty in every aspect of his form...

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Black Celebration (Jaghatai Khan, Mortarion)

Summary: Mortarion befriends Khan's lover and realizes that he has feelings for her… and that she must be saved.

Jaghatai Khan/fem!Reader, Mortarion/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, manipulation, angst

Word count: 1371

Song: Depeche Mode - Black Celebration

I decided to try something new. Jaghatai is a soft yandere, but the focus is not on him, but on Mortarion. Of course, he can also be called a yandere (he is a primarch, they are all a little wierd there), but his fears are still justified.

Jaghatai Khan, Primarch of the White Scars was a special person. Strange culture, strange manners and isolation from others. He, like Mortarion, was forced to serve the Emperor, but not because of an agreement, but because of the desire to protect his world. But they were not friendly. The only person with whom Warhawk was able to strike up a friendship was Magnus the Red. A witch, no less.

It is not surprising that when Jaghatai became attached to a small mortal woman, no one paid attention to it. And it was so difficult to understand what was on his mind. So why waste time on you when there are much more important things to do.

“Oh, I didn’t think anyone else would be here. You are Mortarion, aren't you? Jaghatai has told so little about you.”

Mortarion takes his eyes off the ivy and turns around. He’s not used to seeing you without your patron. On the other hand, it’s unlikely that anything could threaten you in the Terran greenhouse.

You smile brightly and talk non-stop about how you wanted to see the greenhouse. After all, so many wonders from all worlds are collected here. The Primarch of the Death Guard continues to sit on one knee with an impassive gaze, looking at your words. During all this time, he never changed his face or said a word. Simply put, he did not show his passion in the conversation.

“I see you liked this plant. Can you please tell me more about it? Everything is so interesting here.”

You press your hands to your chin and look pointedly at the primarch. Mortarion can do nothing but frown. Something was erroneous here. Something is wrong. In you. You were wrong. Strange. You acted differently.

“Aren't you afraid of me?”

You almost recoil at his words and raise an eyebrow. Not out of disgust. But surprises. Misunderstandings. The primarch watches carefully as your eyes scan the man from head to toe. Your lips curl up and your face takes on a funny look.

"No."

Perhaps now you should be scared. Mortarion is sure that if he didn’t hurt your feelings before, now... you should have run away as fast as you could. A primarch, but he cannot control his own body, what a shame. The eyes widened, the nostrils inhaled deeply. He looked like an enraged monster, ready to rush forward and tear his victim to pieces. Only it wasn't rage.

He had never heard pleasant words.

And didn’t know how to react. But you continue to stand, embarrassedly fiddling with your hands. Waiting for the Pale King to deign to tell you about all the different types of plants in the greenhouse. Mortarion opens his mouth several times, gulping air like a fish. Until he gathers his strength and begins to talk.

***

You started meeting more often. The greenhouse was your secret place. You hardly saw each other in different parts of the Imperial Palace. Or pretended not to notice each other. But you and the primarch didn’t even discuss why you kept your friendship a secret. It just happened that way.

But Mortarion looked forward to all these meetings. Couldn’t calm down his feelings or control his thoughts. He longed to meet again, to hear your laughter. And when these meetings came, he waited with bated breath for their completion. Hoped to the last that the wonderful dream would last as long as possible.

He told you about Barbarus. About the Crusade. Not the most pleasant stories, full of pain and suffering. But you listened to them carefully. You wanted to support him. And when you touched his hand one time during the story about his “adoptive father”... The Pale King was relieved. You didn't mock him. Wasn't afraid.

You were a true ray of light. Mortarion loved listening to your stories about your home planet, customs and traditions. What are your favorite holidays, how is your family doing. Your distant home among the stars seemed like a real paradise. While Mortarion's homeworld rotted alive.

“You know, I really appreciate that you listen so eagerly about my culture.” - you get embarrassed and fidget with your dress while sitting on the floor. - “Jaghatai is also interested. But he has a lot to do and besides, I have to integrate more into the culture of Chogoris. So there is little time for me.”

You say this so calmly. You accept your fate and position like a slave. Mortarion frowns. He doesn't like you being neglected. You were mortal. Small and fragile. You need to be taken care of, not terrorized.

“What is your relationship with my brother?”

You open your mouth and blink your eyes. Until you squeak in embarrassment and hide your face in your hands. Mortarion wants, desperately wants to smile at this sight. Show you at least a little bit of goodness. But he doesn't know how to smile. Besides, he simply cannot calm down until he understands that you are safe.

“Jaghatai... he annexed our world to the Imperium too quickly. We couldn't fight back anyway, peaceful planet. I... we met at one of the holidays, and then we began to meet more and more often. And so unexpectedly! It’s as if fate was favoring us.”

Mortarion hears your heart begin to beat with greater intensity. Or was it his?

“I-I know how it sounds, but I love him. And... and he loves me. Of course I had to leave my home, but nothing could be done. Jaghatai said that he will take care of my family, they will not need anything. Of course, he forbids me to go to a lot of places and my social circle is narrow... but this is all for my safety. Sometimes his care is a little suffocating... but he said that he has never fallen in love and does not know how to show his feelings... He writes me poems, laughs at my jokes. And he also gives me rides on his bike!”

Naivety. Pure and simple-minded naivety. Which his brother brazenly took advantage of and turned a wonderful girl into a slave. And she doesn’t even realize it, greedily accepting what he gives. This is not freedom. Mortarion should have saved you, you deserve better, you need...

Him?

No, Mortarion is not worthy of your care and affection. How can such a beautiful and pure girl desire such a disgusting man like him. He looked terrible, but compared to the Primarch of the White Scars, he must have caused momentary disgust.

Khan was handsome and dressed more flamboyantly than Fulgrim. He looked after you, behaved perfectly and so normally. Mortarion looked simply ridiculous compared to him. He may be a primarch, he may be called the Pale King. But he was pathetic in front of you.

And he doesn't say anything.

***

The next day he doesn't see you in the greenhouse. And in subsequent ones. In truth, it seems as if you have disappeared from the Imperial Palace. Your trace is gone, the scent has cooled and he can’t hear the beat of your heart. You are absent. You're far away.

Mortarion thinks he is going crazy and he doesn't know what to do. Have you decided to leave him? Have you decided to run away? He couldn’t blame you, but resentment and sadness gnawed at his soul. He really wanted to spend time with you again. Feel needed. Beloved.

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. Khan.

“I am grateful to you for brightening the days of my nightingale.” -White Hawk doesn't look grateful. - “My moon is already tired. She shouldn't talk to other primarchs so often. Besides, we were delayed on Terra. If you have something to say, then say it. I’ll pass on the words to my beauty.”

Mortarion wants to scream. You have a name. Jaghatai has no right to treat you like this. You deserve better... The Pale King is terrible and disgusting. He's a monster in the flesh. But it seems that your soul makes it better. Mortarion wants to see you again among the flowers, cheerful and alive. Happy. Free.

“Tell her that we will meet again.”

Whatever happens.

[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]

So, my house got flooded, but Warhammer porb is more important

Summary: Mortarion finds a way to make meetings bearable.

Word Count: 922

Content Warnings: Is this smut? I'm going to say it is, public, 40kness, edging? Question mark?

Image Credit: @squishyowl

Mortarion loved meetings as he loved his father, but this was one that he couldn't avoid.

The chaptermaster was droning on and on about the next campaign, attack plans and whatnot. His sons seemed just as interested, their armor covered in the blood and gore of battles past. A couple of them were having a quiet conversation and one was folding the leaflets on the table. Mortarion himself was lightly fiddling with something in his hand, running his finger along his palm. He looked away from the center of the room, down at you.

You were seated next to him, looking up at him with eager eyes. You didn't have to pay attention, his lovely little wife, dressed in the finest clothes (by far) in the room-- a simple mid-length white dress. Your hair was half tied up in a knot, and he couldn't help but notice the way the dress fell around your soft skin.

He sighed contentedly. Many of his legion complained less when you were around. Emperor knows why.

He thumbed at something in his gauntlet while he shifted in his seat. It had to be made specifically for him, he was maybe twelve feet tall and wide as expected... but only while he wore his armor. His eyes darted towards you as he flicked a switch--one small enough that he shouldn't be able to handle it, but alas-- in his gauntlet.

He smirked under his respirator as he saw you purse your lips. He felt a slight warmth in your cheeks emanating through his armor. You gripped the side of the table, your knuckles growing whiter with every moment. You shut your eyes tight. Some of his sons gave you an odd look before Mortarion cleared his throat,

As his sons focused back on the center of the room, he kept staring at you the way he always does. It was that dead cold stare he knows sends shivers down your spine every time. And the smell. You were wet, getting wetter with every tremble of the toy inside of you. He relaxed, his eyes drooping.

"My Primarch," began the chaptermaster, "are you not paying attention?"

Mortarion sighed, crossed his arms, and let out a grunt. His eyes briefly darted to the hologram where the chaptermaster was excitedly pointing to where the invasion would begin.

His mind wandered to you, though, as his son droned on. How the toy felt in you, how he was making you hide each writhe as it ramped up in intensity. He closed his eyes, thinking about taking you to his chambers and removing that pretty dress of yours and-

"Mortarion." His son was dead set on him now. "I need you to pay attention, this is critical to-"

"I know," he barked back. His eyebrows were furrowed as he jerked the switch off. He heard you exhale from a distance away, making him do the same.

"Thank you," his son said. "Now, as I was saying..."

Even through his armor, he felt the tap of your finger on him. He felt your eyes on him, pleading with him to turn it back on again. You reached for his hand, and he gave it to you wordlessly as you searched his gauntlet for the switch.

As he pretended with glassy eyes to pay attention to the meeting, he flashed the gauntlet on the other side towards you. The switch was painfully set to "off". He winked.

You bunted your head against his dirty armor, behavior only tolerated by his legion due to your status. He still felt a few glare at you, and he shot his own back, wrapping a cold metal arm around you. You relaxed into him, running your small hands over each crevice as they turned their attention back towards the man and his hologram.

"My lord, if you are otherwise occupied, we are going to have to have this meeting without any distractions," his son said, the holograph shaking as he moved his hand through it.

"If you want this planet so much, you take it," he mumbled, standing up. You stood up next to him, the pleasant cool of his gauntlet addictive, as he all but stormed out of the room.

You had to jog to keep up with him, your gaze panning towards his other gauntlet. You grabbed for his hand in a slightly awkward motion, but he closed his fist. When you looked up at him, you saw a victorious mirth in his eyes. He bent down to talk to you, his voice barely audible through the respirator.

"We are going back to my quarters, where you will get the real thing."

Your face went warm again as he scooped you up into his arms. "M-Mortarion-!" you cried as he started to speak again.

"You think the Plague Marines didn't smell how wet you were?" he asked, hissing into your ear. He felt a shiver go down your spine as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your pretty white dress was stained with the dirt and grime from his armor as you buried your head in his neck. The fancy knot in your hair was becoming disheveled, too.

"You knew," he said, holding you with one arm and turning the knob on the door to his quarters with another.

You let out a soft whine, the bones of something coherent in your speech but even a Primarch couldn't figure out what you were trying to say.

"Desperate thing. I will get you taken care of."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[lemon-russ]

Poorly edited and written half awake and sick- the best flavor of porn ✨❤✨❤✨

Mortarion x F!Reader (Pt. 6/ 5th prequel )

Previous

The whole fic is now on Ao3!

CW: Dehumanization/ human pet, like A Lot of being a Pet, thigh fucking, fingering?, general Primarch smut

TAGS: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk @sharenadraculea @moodymisty (even though you read it already lol sorry)

Thank you @squishyowl for the dividers ✨

“Don’t be difficult, pet” Mortarion chides, “It’s just clothes, try them.”

You press your mouth into a line, staring at the slip of fabric your master held up to you. A short, flowy white dress that you couldn’t see actually covering very much of you. It looks… impractical, to say the least. Nothing like your reliable tunic and trousers.

Mortarion sighs at your continued silence. “Do you want me to force it on you?” He says, raising a white brow.

You frown, and reach up to take the fabric. You’d rather not find out how that process would go.

He lets you crawl in your cage and draw your little curtains to change. You struggle to figure out the dress, but you find no matter how much you tug and wiggle, your chest is still hanging out the top and the bottom barely falls below your ass.

“M-master?” You sheepishly ask.

“Are you done? Let me see.” He says, tugging the curtain to your cage.

You blush. “Uhm, I don’t think it’s the right size for me, master…” you squeak as the curtain pulls back.

His eyes go wide, falling down your figure. “…It fits perfectly fine, pet.” He says, voice slightly strained. “Come, out, let me… see it fully…”

You pout and crawl out, standing upright. The dress, sweet and white and ruffled around the skirt, shows off your shoulders and cleavage, while the shortness shows off your soft thighs, and you assume by the breeze, the place your thighs meet the bottom curve of your ass.

Mortarion looks… stressed? He raises a hand to his mouth, rubbing his chin and mouth as his eyes burn through you.

“T-turn around, pet.” He rasps, coughing dryly.

You do so, giving a small twirl of your skirt. You think you hear your master make a weak groan.

“It is a… little short. In the back.” He coughs out. “But that’s alright, it’s only you and I here.”

You turn back to him and tilt your head curiously. What an odd thing to specify. It was always just the two of you, for… months, it must be now. You’d long since lost track of the time with your Master.

He swallows, gaze locked on your thighs. “Since it is only I, and you are my pet, there is no worries.” He nods to himself, raking his eyes up your curves. “Since I’d never do anything untoward to my pet. Of course.”

You smile up at him. “Oh, of course, master.” You chirp. Then pause. “But it just feels like maybe this dress won’t be practical since I crawl a lot…?” You dare to press. Something about his heavy lidded gaze makes you feel a way you can’t quite place.

He grips his face again, nodding a little too quickly. “Well. Why don’t you go crawl back in your cage and, we can see.” He chokes out.

You return to all fours, and immediately hear that noise again- he definitely just groaned. You scrunch your brow and look over your shoulder at him.

Mortarion looks like he is going through the stages of grief all at once, staring daggers at your barely covered ass. You frown, is he alright? Back on your homeworld, people were covered pretty head to toe due to the ambient dust and UV risk. To be so exposed feels impractical and unprotected, but you’re not sure why your master was reacting so strongly.

“Master…?” You ask gently. His eyes flick up to your face and he grimaces like he is in pain. He shuffles his legs, taking a deep breath.

“Come here, pet.” He forces out in a strained voice. “

You crawl over to his feet obediently, smiling up at him from the floor. You tilt your head, making him flinch for some reason. He stares down at you a moment before chewing his lip and gesturing for you to spin around. You do as he asks of course. You are past nitpicking Master over what he commands you to do.

“This is a… very pretty dress on you, pet.” He rasps from behind you. You see him lower to his knees on the floor behind you from your peripheral. “It is… very clean. Innocent, in a way.”

You glance at him, raising a brow. “Innocent…?” You as

He swallows, letting out a rough sigh. “Don’t worry about it, pet. Face forward.” He scoots up behind you, hands slowly coming to caress your back. “I wish to… try something. Don' panic.”

You knit your brow, confused. Panic? Why would you-

He takes you by the waist, pulling you back to him. “such a sweet pet,” he growls in a rasp, “it's ok if I just-”

You squeak a little at the sudden grasp, Mortarion’s hands nearly circling your hips entirely. Something huge, warm and firm seats between your plush thighs. You turn to look back at your master, but a large hand grabs your hair and forces your face forward.

You blink in surprise, both at the sudden manhandling and at your body’s reaction to it. Why did that feel so nice? You don’t get time to unpack it.

“Shh, shh, it's ok pet, I'm just going to do something, don't worry.” Your master says placatingly, rolling his hips and slowly squeezing himself between your thighs. Something on him slicks his path so he moves more freely between your legs each pass.

He lets go of your hair in favor of slipping his hands under your dress, grasping a cheek of your ass in each massive hand. His thumbs push your panties out of the way, and he lets out a shuddering groan as he enjoys the view.

You glance below you, having to lean a little to get a view clear of your chest. You gasp at the sight of him. He's so large, your dress catches over his cock with every pass as it presses rhythmically against your belly. The pale pink head is slick, leaving a wet trail between your legs, staining the fabric it rubs against with moisture.

The friction of it is starting to affect you, and you squeeze your thighs tighter to get more pressure against your hidden clit. The movement elicits a long, pleased whimper from Mortarion. He bucks faster against you, leaving a stain of pre-cum along the belly of your pretty white dress.

“See, no worries, you aren't even undressed, it's nothing untoward…” he groans from clenched teeth, sounding much more like he is trying to convince himself more than anything else.

You aren't sure that's how this works.

He places a hand between your shoulder blades and forces you face down into the soft rug, which he bought you last week after you complained of aching knees from crawling on the hard floor. Thankfully it now saved your cheek, which was being smushed into it.

“M-Master-” you whimper, trying to roll your hips back on him. He uses his knees to trap yours, forcing them together tighter for him. In the back of your mind your mind, you think about what an odd bruise you’re going to have between your thighs.

“Good girl-” he growls, rumbling from his chest. “Such a sweet little pet, such a- hrg- S-soft pet-” he groans as his hips pick up speed.

You whimper, lost in the not-quite-enough stimulation from the friction, but trapped face down and ass up as Mortarion thigh fucks you faster and faster.

“Master-” you whimper again, muffled into the rug. He falters his thrusts a moment.

“Are you- hurting, pet?” He rasps dryly, forcing his hips to slow.

You try and shake your head, “N-No, I- I just-”

You catch yourself last second. You almost asked him to give you more stimulation, which is very close to making a demand of him. But… the ache of your teased clit….

He leans over your shoulder to study your face. His own was flushed (or flushed in comparison to his normal pallor), and sweat stuck hair to his forehead. His hand lifted from your back, allowing you to meet his heavy gaze.

“Do you want…” he swallowed, looking in thought. “I… I suppose it would be… bad for you to become frustrated with no outlet.”

You look at him confused. He continues, leaning back again. “I heard when pets are… frustrated in that manner, they can become stressed.”

Before you can ask what that could begin to mean, your mind is wiped blank. He slips his fingers under your panties, clumsily rubbing around you. Which is enough as far as your body is concerned.

You pant a weak whimper and roll back against his fingers, making him groan and begin rolling his hips again.

“Th-there we- go-” He wheezes, “this is… still alright… still not ruining you-” he pants, picking up his pace and circling your entrance with his fingers.

You have no idea what he’s mumbling about, whining and whimpering as you finally start reaching your edge. When you let out a gasp, legs shaking and soaking him, he growls with you.

“Good pet, good girl, that’s it-” he rasps, slipping the tip of his thick finger in you, “There we go, there we go-”

He gasps and suddenly presses your face into the rug, thrusting hard between your thighs. With a weak, gasping final moan, he presses his cock against your belly and soaks your dress with pulses of cum.

You squeak at the sudden force, then whimper at the feeling of being drenched. Covered in your master’s cum. Something in your mind snaps into place, like a missing puzzle piece.

Panting, coughing, and wheezing, Mortarion rolls you on your back. “I- I’m sorry, pet. I went too far, I don’t know what came over me-” he stops mid sentence when he sees your face.

His brow knits, his flushed, clammy face growing concerned. “…Pet…?” He says carefully.

You smile up at him, flush, happy, panting, ecstatic. You wiggle your hips, his cock still trapped between your knees, dragging a weak rasp from him.

“Master,” you trill, making him raise his head to look into your fuck-drunk face, his face a mix of shock and disbelief, flittering to deep concern when he fully processes the look in your eyes. Concern for you or himself, you can’t tell.

“Master,” you purr, “Can we go again?”