#OC Titus

[enden-k]

[OC]

we lost our homes and found it in each other

[brasideios]

Snippet Sunday

I wanted to share something new this week, because I’m really vibing with what I’m working on (extremely casually) just now. Feeling very chill and enjoying myself.

A tiny bit of background: Titus (Apple-Blossom 🤦‍♀️) appeared as a very complete character out of nowhere in a 2019 thought dump, maybe six pages long. I was just starting to write about Rome at the time, and he was a false start, but I never forgot him.

I started mulling over this false start a couple weeks back, and have begun tinkering with a few small scenes.

So… here’s Titus Lartius. Single dad and dutiful son, who has a lot going on behind the scenes.

The springtime morning was dark and cold. Titus pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders. The sound of rain dripping into the compluvium of his mother’s house was loud in the atrium as he followed Nonius to the front door. He carried a lamp before him, which caught the mosaic into a circle of twinkling stars around his feet. He liked to be awake so early, before anyone else in the house was awake, when it wasn’t so cold at least. Nonius unbarred the door, and opened it, allowing Titus to slip through into the street with muted thanks. Outside, the moon was high in the sky, a fingernail moon on the wane. He adjusted his fur-lined cloak again, tucking his hands into his armpits, and hurried towards home. The nails of his boots were loud on the paving stones, but once he’d reached the main thoroughfare, there were many others like him, huddled against the cold, on their way to a morning salutatio with a servant in tow, their faces pinched in the cold, though some relaxed a little when they saw him, greeting Titus with a respectful bow of the head. Some were his own clients, on their way to his door. ‘Phillipus,’ he said, greeting one of these cheerfully. ‘It’s good to see you. When did you get back from Rome?’ The middle-aged man, reed thin with rheumy eyes, smiled warmly. ‘Just yesterday afternoon. What a to-do there was on the road. Some Capuan, a centurion apparently, had been attacked by bandits, and he’d got together a band of men from the caupona in a nearby town to hunt the thieves down. They were roughing up anyone they met.’ He chuckled, which turned into a cough. It was a moment before he continued, ‘They questioned me and my bodyguard for an eternity, in the pouring rain. I kept saying, do I look like I have the wherewithal to attack a man of thirty-five, in his prime, who’s fought off barbarian hordes?’ Titus laughed along with him. ‘You were fast enough in your time.’ ‘Ha! In my time, but that time’s long past.’ He sobered a little. ‘I think I’m going to take myself off to the shrine of Hygeia, at the thermal baths in the hills next week. This cough, you know, it just will not shift.’ Titus looked at him with concern. ‘You think it’s serious?’ He nodded solemnly. ‘I do; but it’s in the hands of the gods, of course.’

~~~

Oh but I have to add this extra tiny snippet, too, because Titus is a package deal with his son, Quintus :)

~~~

Titus was trying to leave his house, but he was hindered by his son Quintus who, with a fierce scowl on his chubby five-year-old face, had wrapped himself around Titus’ leg. ‘Pater, I want to come too!’ Titus couldn’t quite smother his smile behind his severe frown. ‘Quintus, I don’t have time for this.’ ‘Then take me with you.’ He leant down and scooped up his son into his arms, and held him so they were eye-to-eye. ‘I’m only going to visit your grandmama; I won’t be long, and you don’t really want to sit with her and her boring friends, do you?’ Quintus wrinkled his nose, no doubt thinking of the last time, when he’d been chastised constantly for not sitting still; but he said, ‘I might. Novia gave me cake last time.’ ‘If you stay here, and behave for Anthia, I’ll bring you some cake myself. How does that sound?’ He pursed his small lips and pushed his unruly black curls, much like Titus’ own, out of his eyes impatiently. ‘Alright - if it’s the kind with the almonds in it.’ Titus smiled. ‘I promise.’ He set Quintus back onto the floor. ‘Do we have a deal?’ He held out a hand to his son, who shook it enthusiastically. ‘Deal.’

[heartfullofleeches]

Titus [Space Emperor Yan]: You are rejecting my marriage proposal? Surely you jest-

Jester Reader: Most days, but unfortunately for you today's my day off! ahahaha-

Titus: Mending my heart with laughter mere seconds after smashing it into a million pieces. You play a dangerous game, My Dear- One I intend not to lose.

[danart501]

Ok I confess…that im a fan of bully sicarius and diplomatic reader😔

@moodymisty

[cardinalcanis]

Compliance

*Comes out of a dark alley* "Hey kid, want some Titus smut to scramble that brain chemistry real good? I got your fix."

This is @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond 's fault.

Summary: Titus was struggling with some unexpected side effects from the Rubicon Surgery, luckily he finds relief in unexpected hands.

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x NB!OC

Tw: smut, Adeptus Mechanicus, prostate massage, edging, genitals are a social construct, technically tentacles, Astartes have more holes than you think (trust me), MATH.

Word count: 7316

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @druidwolf21 @wolf-feathers12 @artemisareia @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal

@moodymisty @lemon-russ @thisuserislilsilly

@sinistermojo @beckyninja @justallll @ms--lobotomy @pluvio-tea

Mechanicus speech cheat sheet:

When the hyperfocus gets in my mind goes so hard into ideas it gets them pregnant. So as this has a lot of Math Symbols as I went hamm on writing the Tech Priest’s way of speaking. I’m not a mathematician, I played loosely with stuff and their meanings, do not scream at me. Here is a quick list: 

>    -> More than. 

=    -> equals. 

!    -> negation of, no 

+++    -> increase. 

<=    -> less or equal to

&    -> and 

- - -    -> decrease 

T(statement)    -> that statement or thing is always true. 

=>    -> therefore, implies, if… then

!=    -> not equals to

∈    -> belongs to

⇔    -> if and only if, only.  

\/    -> or

P(statement)    -> probability of statement

Statement1 | statement2    -> statement1 happened because statement2 happened. 

E(statement)    -> the statement is an expected result. 

∅    -> null

F(statement)    -> that statement or thing is always false. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lieutenant Demetrian Titus of the Ultramarines, Liberator of Graia, slayer of Grimskull, veteran of the Deathwatch, bane of xenos, executioner of Thousand Sons… reduced to this pathetic drooling mess.

It had started around a month ago, the last bloody bug had been ripped to shreds but still he felt this hunger to keep going. He checked the state of his armor’s system, to his surprise the reserves of adrenaline shots hadn’t been used during the battle. Why did he still feel so restless? When did his bodyglove become so overstimulating? Had the material always been that noticeable on the skin when it was supposed to be seamless? Every single one of his nerve endings was screaming for touch, begging to be rubbed against something, ANYTHING. The worst was his aching groin, he had been close to believing that his codpiece was about to slingshot off him and get someone killed any second now. 

“Testosterone > expected Astartes levels. Positive note. Risk factor = low. !(Possibility) of death.” had stated Magos Biologis Mu-Oragon, brown eyes scanning the dataslate. 

“Low risk factor? I can’t barely focus on anything else Magos. What’s causing this?” 

The mechanicus lifted their gaze from the datapad, pale skin bathed in its faint greenish glow. Titus couldn’t decipher if the person had been male or female before embracing the Omnissiah, but there was a graceful beauty on the mech priest that had been lacking on others of their kind… shit this is bad he’s now sexualizing one of those tin cans.

“This unit understands, patient’s +++frustration = expected. Rubicon <= a year.” 

“Yes.” He had started to rock slightly on his seat, trying to focus on anything else rather than the heat coming from his core. At least his armor helped with masking the worst parts of his current condition, unlike the joke that tried to call itself a robe which he had to wear for examination. 

“[(Rubicon <= a year)&(Testosterone > expected Astartes level)] = normal occurrence.” One of Mu’s mechadendrites reached for the shelf, pulling a heavy binder. They then held it open with the help of their four mechanical arms. “---Symptoms expected. T(Normal progression).” 

“And what do you want me to do in the meantime! I thought the apothecary had referred me here for a solution.” he exclaimed out of frustration standing off the examination table. “Don’t you have any meds you can give me?”

His whole body shivered at the unexpected cold grasp from three mechadendrites pinning him back into a seating position. Blood flowed to his cheeks due to the surprising arousal that came from being manhandled by the seemingly meek Mu. 

“Hormonal cycle must !(be) disturbed => not compliance.  Compliance => possible late implant rejection. I !(compromise) unit Titus’ safety.” Mu-Oragon said in what was a wholeheartedly caring tone, even through the respirator’s distortion.

Titus had been told they had been the one in charge of his rubicon surgery, the one who saved his life. An incredibly dangerous procedure in normal conditions, but with the scale of his wounds it almost meant impossible success. Even with all that he didn’t imagine the Magos would feel protective of him, he was just another number in his surgery record anyways.

“Mu I can’t fight like this…” The same shiver again but now caused by the Magos’ grasp leaving him. Only the phantom feeling of the touch floating over his skin, another painful release he couldn’t attain, adding to the breaking down of his sanity. 

“That statement is true. Hopeful contrast. !(medication) != !(relief).” 

It took him a moment to wrap his head around the meaning of Mu’s words. He had become better at understanding the Magos after the repeated checkups on his condition following the rubicon surgery, yet there wasn’t a chance he could call himself fluent in mechanicus speech, less with someone’s accent as strong as the one in front of him. 

“You can help then, is that what you mean?” 

“Titus attempted stimulation for release = True?” they asked, pulling what seemed to be an informative pamphlet from the binder. 

“You mean if I had tried jacking off?” 

“That statement is true.”

A soft flush washed over Titus’ cheeks, glad the Magos’ examination room was empty today, Emperor only knows how hard this conversation would be in front of others. How could a room feel both so hot and cold at the same time? One of Mu’s mechadendrites tilted his head to drive his attention back towards the mechanicus, the touch has such softness uncharacteristic of what a machine would have. Yet the exception existed on Mu-Oragon, every single one of their four arms and many mechadendrites was designed for careful surgery where an eighth of a millimeter could prove life or death. He couldn’t recall all the instances during previous examinations when he had been touched by them and only noticed it once the contact became absent. 

“Yes I have.” He answered, unfamiliar with the open disclosure of his intimate activities. “It hasn’t been working.”

“Elaboration on process required. Accurate solution given ⇔ accurate description of event.” 

Mu-Oragon seemed to be deciding between a collection of pamphlets and booklets, skimming through them with the many prosthetic ocular lenses around his forehead while keeping their human eyes on Titus, which added to the multiple limbs, gave them quite an arachnid appearance.  

“What do you want me to say? There is not much science to it…” Even though the theoretical was quite clear, for the first time since his neophyte years his mind found itself struggling to find a proper practical for it

Titus held Mu’s gaze, curiously the Magos Biologis had retained both of his human eyes, only attaching more ocular addons around. A thing the astartes found quite curious if compared to others of his kind, who preferred replacing the lesser biological counterparts first. Theoretical: Mu-Oragon retained their human eyes, practical: it was a conscious decision due to the more patient oriented side of their occupation, it helped to establish trust.

He found the practical fitting. Wide almond shaped eyes with a reassuring stare, a window to the candid individual living inside machine parts and shrouded in logic based statements. 

Mu-Oragon’s mechadendrite surprised him again by resting part of its weight on Titus’ shoulder, comprehending the man’s struggle for words. He pondered on how much was Mu’s intent and how much was the limb’s machine spirit acting, he would have been lying if admitting that the relationship between mechadendrites and users wasn’t something he found interesting. One of his brothers, a tech-marine, had explained how they were beings of their own possessing an individual machine spirit; yet perfectly synchronized with his mind. Many times acting upon his thoughts without realizing. 

“Following procedure occurs on common stimulation practice. True \/ false?” asked the Magos, extending a thin booklet towards him that read ‘Comprehensive guide to prostatic stimulation’.   

“No” he answered as stoically as he could, looking at the object being handed to him. 

“Inference: this unit’s previous statement = false.” chirped Mu, computer-like clicks emitted as they spoke, possibly running calculations. “Response to Titus’ current statement: compiled. Deeper stimulation > external. [+++P(relief) = P.relief (Release | deep stimulation)] > [+++P(relief) = P.relief (Release | external stimulation)]. E[(---surplus testosterone) \/ (∅surplus testosterone)]” 

“You mean I can fix this by showing things up my ass?” 

“Statement’s truthfulness cannot be validated. P[ ((---surplus testosterone) \/ (∅surplus testosterone)) | (Simple anal insertion) ] = not conclusive. Remark: Relief of ailment ⇔ proper technique = true.”   

Titus swallowed a knot in this throat, followed by a long sigh. He didn’t expect the prescription for his ailment to be a masturbation technique. 

“Doubts prostatic stimulation = E(relief)?” Asked Mu tilting their head to the side. “Inexperienced = true?” 

Titus nodded, noticing how he had been holding Oragon’s gaze the whole time. 

“I can provide asistance ⇔ (consent = True). (Perform on Titus & explain) ⇔ (consent = True)” 

The booklet crunched a bit as he held it tighter, Mu had pulled him apart and back together before, likely there is no piece of him they haven’t touched… in the medical sense. Throne that simple though made him almost produce a low gasp. A different occurrence may have ended up in the rejection of such a proposal, but his situation was all but common. He could barely stay still without rubbing his aching crotch against something. Theoretical: this is just a medical procedure; practical: nothing else will come out of it. 

“Alright Mu-Oragon.” He agreed in almost a whisper. “Just… please be careful.” 

“T(Titus’ wellbeing is my priority.)” Even through the respirator their tone came out gleeful and reassuring. 

A couple days after, back at his chambers, Titus gasped and struggled to achieve the previous results he had experienced with the Magos. He was following the same movements and booklet’s instructions to the letter, his fingers were bigger and thicker than Mu’s; still the efforts left him wanting. He had made himself cum, and it had felt good, yes. But his relief was a cup with a hole at the bottom, never filling. 

Titus pressed his face against the drool covered pillow, recalling the memory from the examination room. Every time Mu had pressed their fingers inside him an asphyxiating wave of pleasure had drowned him over and over, his hairs stood with the remembrance of the Magos’ muffled exhalations due to the effort of manhandling such a heavier man. Another finger, he went deeper, a reminiscent thought of firm steel hands that had held his legs still; spread. 

Mu had played him like the director of an astropathic choir does his organ. Has Titus been the only astartes with a similar issue they’ve had to help? He bit the pillow hard enough to cause a rip, there was anger. The thought of Mu-Oragon giving similar care to someone else brewed an overflowing pot of jealousy and rage in him. But why? It was the Magos Biologis’ job to aid the Astartes, it was obvious there was no emotional attachment to the action. Despite the evidence he couldn’t stop the reassuring and borderline loving statements they had directed at him during the procedure to eat at his mind. How comfortable they had made him feel in his vulnerability, how in the time of their exchange he had silently craved for Mu to touch more of his body, to touch theirs. 

Titus sat in silence, frustrated tears sliding off his cheeks, a lone company in the otherwise relatively bare room. It was quite late at what the battle barge’s internal schedule had designated as ‘night time’, how much of a ‘night owl’ was the mechanicus? Was it proper to visit them? Were they busy? Were they saving another Astartes’ life? Were they soothing other Astartes’ post rubicon testosterone spike? Next thing Titus knew he was already dressed, one thought in mind. He should go to see them, by the primarch’s honor he had to see Mu. 

He moved with haste, weaving through the crowd of servitors engrossed in periodic station maintenance under the watchful vigilance of Mu’s brethren. No, they couldn’t compare to the Magos, none of them. Shit, why did he cram the stupid booklet and lube he was provided into his pocket? It was too late to return, his body would have not allowed him. 

Throne, those clothes were clean out of the dryer though they encountered themselves drenched with sweat. Titus’ walk to the desired wing was a blur, the fight between will and arousal occupied his focus in its entirety. Demetrian’s awareness returned to the front stage with his arrival at Mu’s laboratory, empty except for servitors. He pressed on past examination tables and towering shelves full of implements Titus had no idea of purpose, he didn’t need to anyways, he already had one. 

“Mu…” he mouthed at a sound belonging to what could be Mu’s binharic speech. 

The series of rhythmic computation sounds came out of a nearby room, the door almost fully closed. From the narrow opening left, aside from the overpowering smell proper of incense and machine oil, he could make sense that it was a private chamber.

There they were, sitting crosslegged on the floor, bathed in candle glow making their augments look like consecrated gold. Mu was perpendicular from the door, immersed in sacred meditation. In front of them a towering representation of the machine god crowned the extensive cogitator it was embedded on. The Magos’ hood was down, exposing their side shaved head, what was left of their brown hair in the middle presented tightly tied in a low ponytail. Cables came out of ports and cogitators on the sides of their head, neck and under their robes, connecting them to the one they were praying to. Two of their hands were in a prayer position, the other two resting on their knees. The many mechadendrites seemed deactivated, filling a circle around Mu as they laid over the carpet, like the resting wings of an angel. 

He had opened the door a bit more, taking one step inside yet regretting it instantly. It felt wrong, he was a trespasser, disturbing a sacred intimate rite he didn’t belong at. Titus tried to turn back but a mechadendrite stood to life, clasping hand pointed at the marine as if it could see him. Mu’s eyes opened accompanied by a quick inhalation, reminding him of someone waking up from deep sleep. 

“Unit Demetrian Titus…” surprise took over the Magos whose mechadendrites waved around them covering them until they could pull their hood back up. “Urgent assistance = true?” 

The door rattled slightly as Titus’ hand trembled. Was he feeling fear? The feeling he was made immune of? Mu tilted their head, emitting a series of concerned clicks. They patted a space on the rug beside them, limbs pulling aside to make space for Titus. 

“Permissions granted; accompany this unit. ⇔ desired so.” 

He entered further, making sure that the door was closed behind him. The intensity of the incense only increased with his approach. Titus gave the machine god’s image a look, its aura swallowed him, he was allowed into the room but that didn’t mean he was welcomed, that it welcomed him. 

“Detecting elevated blood pressure, presence of hyperhidrosis. Inference: condition disturbed.” They pointed out when he sat, the rest of their limbs focused on respectfully disconnecting the cables that joined Mu to the room’s cogitator. “Request: details needed.”

“Magos I… I have been doing everything as told.” The words were hard to come up with, this was a bad idea, he wanted to run. “Please, believe me.” 

“Complicance.” they said in what could have been a sigh. “Hormoral reading required. !(time) for a blood scan, +++urgency.” With their words they took the disconnected end of one of the cables still attached to them. “Expedited read | (direct connection = true)” 

A mechanendrite exposed the port at his nape. Even taking into account that the Magos’ intentions were clear and the connection into the ports around his body was a day to day affair; he couldn’t but instinctively want to lean away from the attempt. At least while conscious he had only been connected to external machines and his armor, making Titus and it become one. He was unsure of what linking to another conscious creature would be like. 

“Mu wait… ah…” 

He gasped at the connector’s insertion, a cold wave washed over him. Then, pressure. An extra force needed to be applied for the linkage’s proper attachment. Titus flinched when the plug was inserted to full length and secured. It has never felt this way, the imperceptive clicking shouldn’t be that all consuming, the effortless pressure shouldn’t send a shivering echo across his whole nervous system. The next breath came from lungs outside of his chest cavity. Parallel thoughts stood by his own. Connection state: stable. +++(blood oxygenation). Execute t01101000… wait what? 

“Requests: stand still for reading.” Mu pleaded, their voice sounding closer than the separation between them suggested. “Current testosterone levels = previous reading. Insulin levels within Astartes range = true. Leptin levels within Astartes range =  true. HGH levels within Astartes range = true…” they paused, Titus couldn’t see Mu’s throat but felt it on his own as it moved in a swallow. “+++(Oxytoxin levels)” 

A mechadendrite slid its rigged tentacle down his back coming into a wrap around the waist. The Magos glared at it with burning disapproval hasting the limb to release him. Unbecoming = true.

“What is that? Is it wrong?” Titus asked, a pressing heat that wasn’t the one already overwhelming him joined the room. 

“Oxytoxin = {social bonding hormone, love hormone, reproduction…}” 

The command for Mu’s arm to disconnect from him was clear, Titus’ enhanced reflexes were faster, applying pressure on the Magos’ hand before it could pull the connector out. A heart that wasn’t his drummed frantically. P(mutual) = 80%. Could it be that they have also been feeling something similar? P(mutual) = 88%. For how long? P(mutual) = 90%...

Titus leaned forwards pressing his lips on Mu’s cheek right when it met with the respirator, the skin was so soft, their smell like the rest of the room = {iron, candle wax, incense, sweat}. Mu’s arms resisted the approach but the many mechadendrites welcomed him, they acted upon their master’s subconscious wishes. 

“+++(levels) = {oxytocin, adrenaline, dopamine, vasopressin}.” They reported faintly. “Warning: Unit Titus breaching patient-magos protocol.”

“Are those hormonal readings yours or mine?” He asked with a tinge of humor, yet letting the wanting show. 

“Irrelevant.” The Magos chirped with higher pitch than normal before more mechadendrites started rubbing themselves around Titus like purring cats, then stopping when Mu directed a stern echoing mental order. 

“How long?” he asked, pressing his body against those appendages, begging for their touch. 

“Comprehension | (Unit Titus’ attention = true)” Oragon’s voice barely rose over the rushed clicking of their cogitators. “P(rubicon primaris success | healthy Astartes) = 61.6%. E(rubicon primaris success | medically dead Astartes) = ∅.” Was it a memory that flashed before him? Anger, defiance, approval, tension, relief. “Demetrian Titus: Omnissiah’s miracle. T(Demetrian Titus is my biggest pride).” Mu pressed their forehead against his. “T(Demetrian Titus is this unit’s most beautiful creation). Possessive desire = true.” 

He tried to get even closer, mind screaming to the magos’ to take him theirs as their right was. A slight passing migraine struck him, pushback. 

“I want ∈ Titus. I want Titus ∈ me.” 

They paused, a constant stream of data rushed from them to Titus. Failure = true. Unfaithful = true. Weak = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101. 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101 01001000 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110100 01100101 01101011 00100000 00111101 00100000 01110100 01110010 01110101 01100101.

“I’m here Mu, make me yours.” Titus purred, pressing his face on the Magos’ neck, their scent ordering his body into a surrender. +++(serotonin levels). 

“I want to execute statement compliance. Intervention. This unit !(execute) statement compliance. Mu !∈ Titus. Titus !∈ Mu. Mu ∈ The Omnissiah. Titus ∈ The Emperor.” With the great effort of several limbs they were capable of pushing Titus away, his whimper had a twin companion. “ F[P(I ∈ (Omnissiah & Titus) & Titus ∈ (Me & Emperor)) > 0]. Titus’ understanding = true?” 

“Mu, being with you will not make me stop fighting for the Emperor nor will distance you from the Machine God.” Unit Titus’ statement = True. “It will only make me fight harder, to fight for the Emperor is to fight for humanity, you are part of humanity, you are part of what I fight for; what I will die for.” 

Two of the Magos’ hands cradled his face, thumbs rubbing his cheeks, their eyes gifted him a loving painting colored in sorrow ahead of closing them tightly. Mu’s bodily cogitators’ clicking became louder, similar to a tired engine pushing itself up a difficult hill. Every single one of the mechanicus’ limbs trembled and rattled. Titus felt a piercing pain forming behind a skull that wasn’t his own. 

“Magos stop that! You are hurting yourse…” 

“I would hurt myself everyday if it means I do not hurt you Titus.” The lack of machine logic in Mu-Oragon’s statement caught him by surprise, that’s what they were doing, they were ending any process that would distort the message. To the extent of their modification, it hurt. “Attention  =... Listen to me closely please. What’s in your mind, what’s in my mind; it is a chimera Titus. Fantasy. !(logical).” continued as their registry jumped between two conflicting voice modulations. “I will never be able to fulfill your requirements for intimacy. Demand: compliance with silence = true… I am inside your head right now. You have expectations and desires that I cannot match.” Mu opened their eyes, they looked watery and puffy. The clicking sound became more urgent, the cogitators were screaming for it to end. “Body parts you crave that Mu… I…  do not possess. Blessed Cogitators Titus, look how hard it is for me to express myself in your language, do you think a relationship will work? T(I have no place in your world).” 

The hastened clicking relaxed, lungs that weren’t his struggled for air. Mu gave in and placed their forehead on Titus’ chest. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. They purred in the comfort they shouldn’t allow themselves to have. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. They were surrounded by strong arms whose warmth they had no business craving. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Their face, implants included, being covered in kisses that had a better use on someone else. Yet they didn’t want someone else to have. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true. Heretek = true.  Heretek = true. Heretek = true.

“You are no heretek” Titus spoke clearly, his voice making a body that wasn’t his own yet felt like it; to tremble. “I never asked you to change for me. I will not allow you to change for me. Whatever you bring to me will make me happy, because it’s yours.” 

“Counterargument. Titus feeling this way | (+++testosterone & +++oxytocin). (Hormonal stabilization = true) => Titus !(love) Mu. E(Desire = {∅}).” 

“Theorerical: the result of your reasoning is false. Practical: you are in my head, you must only look.” 

“Compliance.” 

There was an invasive tingle poking at his brain, searching, inquiring. They shared a long moment of silence, lullabied by cogitators and Mu’s binharic musings. It felt strangely intimate, not the idea he had in mind when he came out of his room desperate to have the Priest inside him. Yet he still ached for it. 

Mu looked up to him. Pulling their hood down then guiding Titus hands on how to properly hold their face without disturbing the cablework. Throne, they were so strangely beautiful. 

“This unit’s compliance: approval pending.” They said, “This unit’s compliance ⇔ (Titus’ trust = true & Titus’ consent = true).” 

“You pulled my body apart and back Magos, do you really need more trust?” 

“Mu-Oragon !(had) Titus’ consent for rubicon. Patient previous state = unconscious. Unconsciousness !(match) consent protocol. Repeating inquiry: Titus’ Trust = True?” 

“Yes Mu I trust you.” 

“Titus’ statement = true?” The Magos pressed. 

“With my life, Mu please just… ah…”

Another cable made its insertion into Titus, now at a port on his lower back. His vision blurred for a second after the push that made the connection click, he felt himself holding Mu’s face and Mu’s face being held by his hands. A series of satisfied binharic purrs came out of him… the Magos. A touch, a gentle hand caressing behind his earlobe and going down the jawline made him moan quite loud. Titus tightened his lips afterwards full of confusion and shame. Mu chuckled behind the respirator. 

“Proud remark: Any mortal knowledge of Titus’ body < this unit’s knowledge of Titus’ body.” Both him and them gasped in unison with the many limbs holding him in place. “Proceeding with statement validation.” 

Fingers brushed his hair back in a soothing motion, just like they did that day at the examination room to calm his nerves. 

“Retrieving previously used data; Titus = {good, strong, capable, beautiful}.” 

With every word a new limb joined the embrace. Hands, ribbed tentacles, mechadendrite claspers; they all rubbed and massaged Titus’ body over his clothes. Pleasurable yet with the Magos’ teasing, no contact was made with any greater erogenous zone. The Marine played against the scheme, moving himself in a way Mu would at least grace the most vocal centers about their hunger, the mechanicus fought back trying to anticipate Titus’ moves and not let him have a win. They both were absorbed by childish chuckle and sporadic gasps. Mu’s binharic clicks were cheerful, jovial notes, light and dark compared with the ones from earlier. 

He placed his lips on Mu’s neck, also feeling them on his. And ran kisses over both flesh and blessed metal parts. They tensed a bit when he attempted to touch their chest, Titus sensed a third heart rate increasing followed by a mental note reassuring him it was fine. Without leaving carefulness behind he went down the Magos’ neck, wrapping, what the jealous tentacle allowed, of an arm behind Mu’s thighs lifting their body enough for him not bend on a weird angle to keep kissing down, his lips making out of fleshy and non biological parts under the robe.

That was when the mechadendrites started to infiltrate the openings on his clothes and slide under. The metal was no longer cold as it had been warmed up by Titus’ own body heat. Had that been the Magos’ plan? 

They both moaned at the sensation of ribbed well oiled tentacles rubbing themselves against Titus’ nipples, lower abdomen and inner thighs. The Marine was sitting on his knees, holding Mu with one arm and kissing their upper robed body, the other hand kept making sense of the shapes hidden by red cloth. 

Anchoring themselves firmly on Titus’ shoulders with two of their arms, Mu used the leftover free hands to undo the ribbons, clasps and buttons keeping the robe on. They stopped, only them letting go would uncover their body. He eyed them expectantly, noticing how shades of pink bloomed on what could be seen on their cheeks. 

“Witness the miracle of machine and flesh ⇔ (Units > initiates). Exception logged: Demetrian Titus.” Their voice sounded even more distorted than usual, nervous binharic chirps made interference with their words. 

“You don’t need to undress more if you are not comfortable, Mu.” Titus indicated lovingly as he massaged one of their shoulders. 

The grill covering Mu’s mouth didn't impede him from noticing they were smiling, the expression brightening their whole face. Adoring notes in binharic were said yet nothing in a manner Titus could understand, but he thought how it reminded him about how their prayers sounded like. With ritual reverence they let the cloth go, causing the scarlet to part and barely hang off their shoulders. He felt Mu shiver as that skin didn’t seem used to being uncovered, it was paler than their face and very thin, so much he felt afraid of his calloused palms breaking it open. Said skin was bitten into by metal, flexible pipes and transparent wiring transporting blood. Just as they did with their head Mu guided Titus’ hands across their upper body, reaching the pant's edge, a scar continuing down into the pubis was seducing him to follow it underneath. He would have if he hadn’t  noticed how in certain places clusters of purple broke paleness’ ruling, matching where he may have innocently grabbed or kissed too excitedly.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you were that sensible.” 

Titus got his mouth close enough to a bruise yet stopped leaving the lips hovering over it, only his breath making contact. He looked up to meet Mu’s gaze, a request for permission written on his. They tightened any grip on Titus leading to a shift of their weight forwards, pressing themselves against his lips. This time he could appreciate how the binharic purrs and notes actually started somewhere between their ribs and echoed towards the grilled respirator in their face to finish being properly enunciated. The pale layer vibrated and contracted with every joint moan, gasp, huff. 

Mu took hold of another cable connected to them that had an orphan end with no port to call home. Instead of going for it right away they let the cord slide over Titus’ chest, going behind him by the left side of his neck and coming out from the right. The cables had a different texture from the appendages holding the mechadendrites, he enjoyed the contrast between stiff ribbedness and flexible softness. The port on the right side of his neck, by the joining with the shoulder, seemed to be the desired spot. The very moment the plug’s tip was to get inserted into it; Titus moved minimally away with a mischievous grin. Playfulness was older than machines, Mu wasn’t the only one with teasing rights.   

Both continued the jolly game for a couple minutes; shifting, giggling. By the end, it seemed Titus would finally accept the insertion only for the marine to get Mu’s hand holding the cable with a light-hearted bite, not exerting a tinge of actual pressure. The Magos hummed then all together, their mechadendrites compressed his body right over spots he would feel their sting the most, the appendages close to his thighs pulled them firmly; forcing him to a more open and exposed sitting position. At the same time, Mu’s free hand seized as much as Titus’ hair it could and yanked his head back with surprising command; displaying the working area. All of it teared out a pained moan out his core. 

“Delivering request for stillness.” They said, the teasing switched its tone from light-hearted into a lascivious one. “Patient Demetrian Titus !(compliance) => Execute: unit’s protocol for unruly patient subjugation. Titus != {bad patient}. (Titus = {Good patient}) = True?” 

“Apologies Magos, I do want to be a good patient, please show me how.” 

“Compliance.” 

His heightened sensitivity perceived the contact between port and connector in ways words could barely describe. When the tip of the connector touched the outer ring, for half a second he could swear that the candles and lumens seemed to brighten then dull back to their normal luminosity. The friction of smooth metal against smooth metal from the middle of the insertion sparked ripples in his brain that reminded Titus just like a vox signal trying to connect. A final push brought the connection to properly click inside, if before it rippled across the nervous system; now there was no system left unassaulted by a powerful spasm.

Demetrian Titus went blank, only remembering short snippets drunk in this unadulterated euphoria, perception shifting quickly between bodies. Once his faculties adapted to the input stream he discovered himself in the same position but things had changed a little. Titus’ top was gone and his pants were down to the knees. Coagulated crimson lines decorated him all over, evidence from scratches his healing factor closed immediately. The marine was rocking his hips at the rhythm of one of the mechadendrites crossing between his legs, rubbing its oiled shaft over the crotch and between the buttocks. He was still holding onto Mu, quite closely. The Magos’ thighs were at both sides of his neck, Demetrian finding his teeth pulling at their pants’ waist band. Two of their hands were finding support from Titus' biceps, the other two grasping at the marine’s hair for dear life; robe barely hanging by their elbows. He saw no reason to stop it there. 

Firmly holding Mu’s waist with one hand he lifted them up a bit, then using the other to grip the waistband at the back Titus slid their pants down, pulling them fully away. His lips' curiosity could finally scout the track indicated by that scar on their lower stomach. His kisses, the wetness of his tongue, the texture of his shaved cheeks; all sensations were mirrored back onto his skin. Then he made an interesting discovery, when he began charting what was left or lacked on Mu’s crotch it also reflected on his cock with curious representations. A  lick on the front was actually felt at the base of his shaft, yet going and kissing a bit to the right from there was experience at the top of his glans. Mu’s moans were his moans, deep, hungry. Their connection was a cyclical loop of pleasure, what was felt on them echoed onto Titus then back into them. He wondered if the mechanicus was capable of feeling arousal from stimulation on that area without a two way connection. Maybe he could try to investigate in the future, as the now had Titus quite busy. 

Mu moved the anchor points from Titus’ biceps to his hands, a metallic finger pried his mouth wide open making sure the tongue was fully out, then lifting themselves up they started to fully ride the Astartes’ mouth at the same rhythm the mechadendrite grinded its length between Titus’ legs. Their speech reduced to huffs and frantic binharic notes weaving the tunes of their shared pleasure. Titus almost dropped Mu when both of them were run over on climax’s path. Trembling prosthetic legs’ embrace became stronger, pressing him firmly on his face, a mortal with not as good breathing capacity would have likely perished out of air. 

They shifted their weight around Titus to climb off his shoulders, sitting on one arm holding them, they pressed their face onto Titus’. That was when he perceived the respirator being slid down, thin soft lips and skin like the one on their other covered areas nuzzled him. Lungs that weren’t his momentarily ached as they readapted to unfiltered air. Mu’s kiss was shy, sloppy, and inexperienced. Their knowledge of other people’s bodies didn’t transfer well to the skill of kissing, it was fine, not like Titus had much either. They could learn together. 

He pulled back from the kiss, not for lack of wanting but the realization he could finally admire Mu’s full face. It was round with big cheeks that were artificially parted with a depression between the cheekbone and cheek caused by the long respirator use. 

“Isn’t it dangerous to take it off?” He asked quite concerned. 

“!(Every unit).” their unaltered voice was more melodious than when muffled behind the respirator. “Mu-Oragon = {sacred binharic, chemical filtration}. Lung condition: stable. !(Risk)” They kissed him again then moved down his neck, he had forgotten, now they were connected Titus’ unquenching lust was also theirs. “Request: taste Titus.” 

“You know the answer.” he smiled back. 

Hums kept emanating from the respirator but without Mu’s mouth to guide them there was no binharic aria, just airy vibrations. He was fine without the tunes, that mouth looked beautiful with their fleshy lips crowning his nipple, disappearing into the bountiful hairy mass of his chest. Cold, a hand stroked up and down his shaft being unable to fully wrap its fingers around it. And Mu’s mouth, it was already small, yet his cock made it look even smaller by comparison, it made the whole Magos smaller by comparison. 

They licked the leftover cum around the tip and down the shaft, maybe now discovering the taste he’ll have an enlightening comeback when Chairon jokingly tells him to go eat his own dick again. 

Titus buckled and moaned not by stimulation itself but a memory, one of Mu’s hands was running its fingers in circles around the entrance to Titus’ backside. They were slippery, quite well lubricated in fact. 

“Titus = {so good patient, follows prescription well}.” Mu teased him. 

A grasping mechadendrite lifted up, holding the opened lube bottle he had stuffed inside his pocket before. Mu’s fingers barely peeked at the entrance, stretching the aroused fleshy ring. 

“Titus’ memories: seen. This Unit's touch: requested. Compliance.”

They slipped inside with the same effortless precision as before, the joy of getting filled as he had been craving was unmeasurable. Titus grabbed Mu’s head and trusted his cock inside the Magos’ mouth, barely getting a third in. In vengeance they got another finger into him, he wailed at the stretch and pressure curling inside him. If before Mu played him like an instrument, the current Titus was the whole orchestra, from groans to wines they composed a melody out of the Astartes’ desire. 

The rhythm became even faster, building a time bomb of pleasure inside his crotch. Drool and precum dripped down Mu’s chin, Emperor, Omnissiah, whoever was responsible: what a beautiful creature they were. Lustful indulgence was ramping up into a crescendo, Titus was getting close to relief he wanted to cry; and he did once Oragon stopped right at the plunge’s edge, denying him. 

Titus was about to ask why when they held his buttcheeks open for the lubed thin rounded head of a grasping mechadendrite pressed into him.

“Wait!” He howled. 

“Titus trust = true.” They whispered hugging the Astartes between their arms, and his cock between their thighs. 

Bastard, they had made it so aiding his throwing member would mean thrusting back and sodomizing himself into them. He had no choice and soon realized how Mu didn’t oversell themselves when they said they knew Titus’ body best, his hole was so well prepared it took the claw and following tentacle quite well. The stretch was so much yet it didn’t feel painful, Golden Throne, it felt like something he didn’t know he wanted but now will never be able to live without. 

Now the mouths of both of them were free he could appreciate how much of a mirror they had become, Titus was the baritone to Mu’s tenor-soprano, singing the same song in parallel harmonies. It was so much, he began bending over until he had the Magos pinned on the floor under him as he thrusted between their thighs, and the Magos had him entangled in many arms and cables as they stretched his insides. 

Titus had been shivering when he approached the same edge of the cliff as before, it being at a higher distance from the ground compared to the last. The Astartes felt as if the fall was going to make him blackout again, Mu had given him so many gifts, brought back to life and now another way to perceive life through the skin of the one he cherished, their skin. 

The timer on the time bomb in his crotch reached zero, a wave of pleasure after the other washed over him, he suddenly became aware of every pore in their skins, every hair on their heads. But it kept on, every single one of Mu’s appendages grabbed onto Titus as if letting go would cost them their life. He squirmed as his asshole didn’t see mercy nor rest, words were not able to be had with a throat so busy on pained moans. 

Wait, did he have so many cables inserted? Titus finally became aware that more than three ports on his body were in use, when did it happen? When he went blank? Realization dawned on him: he was trapped. All this time he had been a careless fly dancing around the spider’s net, every step entangling him more and more until he was fully helpless, ready to be consumed. The moans transformed into howls, those became wails, wails into whimpers, whimpering devolved into sobbing, culminating in the drained gasps of a fuck hole that knows its place. His mind gave up to the pleasure finally breaking and going  blank. 

He woke to the smell of incense and the realization of being so literally empty, laying on his side with Mu facing him. Mechadendrites and cables were still holding him, not with hunger but care. 

“I guess I ruined your rug.” He joked. 

“!(underestimate) martian chemical cleaner.” The Magos smiled sleepily at him, they hadn’t put the respirator back on yet, purplish red bite marks and bruising dressed their lips and lower jaw, Titus rubbed a finger over those. 

“My doing again I suppose, guess even my bare minimum of gentleness is still too rough. I’m sorry Mu, I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

“Reasurance. Preemptive awareness = True. Exchange | risk assessed. Titus design = {Strong, powerful, deadly}. (System’s status: fully operational) => no need to disable recurrence of interactions.” they said, soothing his worries. 

Mu’s voice returned to the metallic distortion as they put the respirator back on, gentle binharic hum seemed to communicate the Magos’ bliss on that moment more than any words they nor Titus could spare. 

Then the song changed to a familiar prayer, Mu started to go over the cables connecting them to Titus in reverse, from the last to be connected to the first. Before each of the disconnections the prayers sang a layered stanza Titus attributed meaning due to the tune; gratitude, mourning, hope. One by one he saw himself dividing from Mu’s senses, his mind grasping at any pieces left of that consciousness which melted into his, a cry of loneliness as what as one was became two separate beings again. He didn’t feel gloom though, as the prayer implied, separation only meant a new opportunity to meet again. 

“Wait a moment.” Titus interrupted when Mu-Oragon got to the final plug that was the first, the one at his nape. 

“Attention = True. Unit Titus wellbeing: stable?” They asked with the leftover sleepiness of someone coming out of a deep trance. 

“Titus ∈ to Mu, and = true - and that will always be true.” He spoke slowly, doing his best to speak on their lingo, knowing they may be doing a horrible job with laughable pronunciation. “Do Mu ∈ to Titus - this is a question.” 

At least his hope of not saying anything offensive by accident was reassured. The mechanicus’ face became as red as the clean parts of the rug they were laying over, nervous binharic notes escaped them like an open faucet. 

“Theoretical” they started, earning an instant chuckle from Titus. “Mu ∈ Titus. Practical: T(Mu ∈ Titus).” 

Just as it all started Titus kissed them on the cheek, right over where the skin met the respirator. Weird, Mu was rubbing the back of his neck, plug gone yet he didn’t feel a disconnection. Maybe the Omnissiah had finally made up their mind about him.

[bellybiologist]

Decided to do a 2024 Redo of my OC Height chart, redrawing all the old cast and adding in the new ones, one at a time (at least, on discord. Will probably post them in groups of 5 for tumblr). Here's the old one from 2019!

So far, only did 5 and I ran out of steam, 2 old boys and 3 that haven't been height-charted. I'll pick it up again later and add more when I find the time/energy. Also adding their weights!

The text in the image:

Titus: 5'1", 146 lbs Terry: 5'2", 205 lbs David: 5'10", 280 lbs Bourey: 5'6", 125 lbs Jayesh: 6'1" 352 lbs A small part of the reason I'm putting this down is cuz I'm unsure which to chart next, so feel free to drop in requests to see which of my OCs you'd like to see for when I find time again, since interest could help stave off the indecision.

[primarisly-marooned]

first time posting a fic in this fandom aaaaaaa

warnings: none (but let me know if you think i should put something)

pairing: Titus x F!Reader

possible part one!

summary: Newly returned, and now Lieutenant, Titus finds himself adrift in his once home. In his wanderings as he struggles to find himself, he finds you.

tagging @vyzz-undercover @moodymisty and @beckyninja bc their writing got me into this fandom plz let me know if it was ok to tag you guys

bang bang

He had found you deep within the barge tending to some ancient mural. You were kneeling on the frigid ground, bent over and nearly touching the wall with your nose. Various paints and chemicals and tools lay scattered around in disorganized piles, a chaos only you understood to how they lay. It was an endless job, something that your family has been doing for generations. These murals were dusty and covered in layers of grime, splashes of what you're sure was once blood (human or not you remain uncertain), and chipped paint you'll have to color match once the wall is cleaned.

You had been here for hours already, having started just as the day shift ended and your fellow serfs went to their dorms, when you first heard him.

Normally nothing disturbed your work, having a preference for working during the simulated night cycle for that very reason. And this deep in the twisting halls it was rare to see anyone anyway. Much less one of the Emperor's Angels.

It was his footsteps that alerted you that you weren't alone, slow and heavy like a war drum. Boom, boom, boom. Your heart raced in surprised fear, never before had an Astartes traveled this deep within the ship in your memory.

You had never even met one before, but you knew the protocol. Scrambling upright on aching knees, back protesting as your joints crackled, you struggled to straighted your robe, internally lamenting that it wasn't even one of your cleaner ones.

His footsteps drew closer as you press your back against the wall, the frayed edges of you hood drawn down over your eyes, hands clasped in front of you as you dropped into a deep curtsey.

"My lord," you murmur hoarsely when you can see his shining ceramite boots at the edge of you vision. You haven't spoken for days, and your throat burns.

His steps pause in front of you and his gaze is like a heavy weight branding you with his attention. You freeze, thighs burning, when you see a massive gauntlet slowly reach past your head and touch the wall behind you.

The scrape of metal against the stone sounds like what you imagine artillery fire to sound like.

You're trembling now, legs shaking from holding your pose and you pray the Lord doesn't notice.

Then he spoke.

"I remember these battles told as stories when I was a boy." His voice is low, very nearly rumbling through you, shaking the air from your lungs. "You are restoring them."

It wasn't a question, but your mouth opened before your brain could catch up. "Y-yes, my Lord," you cough as discreetly as you could, throat clicking as you swallow. How long had it been since you had water? "It is my holy task to keep our great history alive."

Your legs were going to collapse, your shaking definitely noticeable now.

He was quiet for a moment before he was moving again, the hand against the wall coming around to tuck under your chin. Your helpless to the movement, rising from your suplication at the cold touch to your face. But he continues to nudge your face up.

Your eyes trace the intricate filigree of his chest plate and gorget, the gold almost tarnished against the deep blue of the Ultramarines. It made your fingers itch to restore it briefly before you caught sight of the Angel's face.

His skin was pale and weathered, small scars marking many fights. His service studs gleamed in the flicker lights of your meager candles, hair almost black in the shadows.

Then you saw his eyes.

His eyes were such a deep and clear blue, like nothing you have ever seen before. Not even the image you had once seen of the Avenging Son could compare, an almost blasphemous thought that you banished from your mind.

But when you looked deeper, breath still in you lungs, you saw more than just his stoic expression. He looked almost... lost. There was a darkness in his gaze that held you in pinned you in place better than if you had been bolted to the wall. An angry sort of... dare you say it...

Lonely. He looked lonely. Perhaps that why he stopped?

You shake yourself free from your thoughts as the Astartes moves back out of your space, air rushing into your lungs and clearing the fog from your mind. "My lord?"

He looks a second longer at you before he glances back at the wall. "How long until it is fully restored?"

It was said harshly, but the softening of his mouth gentled it.

"I-It's hard to say, my Lord," it was getting more difficult to speak, your voice cracking every other word. "No longer than a few weeks."

He hummed in what you could only assume was consideration, nearly subvocal as it vibrated your brain in your skull. "Very well then." He glanced back down at you and tilted one corner of his mouth up. Your heart sped up at the sight. "I look forward to your finished work."

As he walked away, leaving you stunned, you only had one thought in your dazed mind.

How the fuck am I supposed to finish this in less than a month?

[beckyninja]

Masterlist

Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Comfort

At First Sight

Trust

Worthy (slightly NSFW)

Duty

Rude Awakening (NSFW)

Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Revelation

Accused

Together (slightly NSFW)

Relief (definitely NSFW)

Jealousy (NSFW)

Salmander OC x FemReader

The Dragon

[sorormaior]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY‼️🎂💖 for da request..... how about a snapshot from the fabled sm2 cary & khepri duo dlc ✨

IT IS VERY MUCH LATER THAN MY BDAY BUT. YEAH.

[fatedroses]

Chance encounters in Costa del Sol.

[kald-dal-art]

Drawings for D6 fic compilation let’s go

[enden-k]

short story summary here, again

im including some of my old, traditional art of the og comic i drew years ago to the recent ones BWAHHAH

[the nobody] vindrael lyndis

age: around 23 in human years

height: ~163cm

species: high elf

the protag. vin was born in a small village in the kingdom of Morgana. hes a high elf, a species that is known for their intelligence and masters of the summoning arts. all elven species are known to be very tall and ethereal and beautiful; they are born with both sets of reproductive organs and are not assigned a gender at birth (going agender by default) until they choose it themselves if they wish to do so. vin identifies as male. unlike the average high elf, vin is much shorter and bland looking which troubled him all his life. he was and is often overlooked by others as he doesnt stand out. to make up for that, he possesses extreme intelligence and a talent for the summoning arts much surpassing an average high elf. he studied and worked extremely hard and became one of the greatest summoners in the kingdom until the king himself ordered him to the court to make him his personal summoner. the king was the first ever person who truly noticed and praised him for his talents and vin started to develop feelings of romantic nature. when he learned of the betrayal, hes even more shocked and hurt than titus. he failed to see the kings change and manipulation due to his feelings clouding his eyes and mind and it shook him deeply. he comes off as timid and polite but has actually quite the temper and bad mouth. he overthinks a lot and is always stressed and on the verge of losing it. despite his rational thinking, he tends to act impulsively when hes teased and messed with too much. everyone else in their group is crazy strong and op and vin often feels like he doesnt fit in there, constantly doubting his worth and powers. he often envies others and its a trait he hates about himself; he envies zydonia specifically for the confidence he wishes he had himself. after the kings betrayal, vin feels extremely lost and insecure in the world and latches onto titus as his new meaning of life. he puts his well-being over his own, considering it to be his duty to his prince, and would follow him everywhere even if he often gets upset with titus rash decisions and empty head. titus considers them best friends and treats them both as equals but vin still treats him as a prince, putting some distance between them. only when zydonia makes him learn to prioritize his own needs and well-being and stop putting titus on a pedestal does vin grow more secure and their friendship truly turns into a warm and mutual, equal one.

[the worlds enemy] zerevni-ir yggdra dragonya ova-akhyn nggdragryl i-ihm avna (Z Y D O N I A)

age: in human years around late 20s/early 30s estimate

height: ~194cm

species: goldhorn dragon

the last dragon of his kind. a jailed king with no clan to rule anymore. the dragons are mythical beings living "above the world" and are divided into 4 clans; the goldhorns, the whitetails, the redclaws and the blackscales. each clan possesses a unique ability, ancient magic, which is passed down from king to king. the goldhorns magic is restorative, healing; the ancient magic is "resurrection" zydonia is not of royal blood. he was a common dragon and had loving parents. due to a tragic event caused by his carelessness as a child when he barely learned how to fly, he fell off the edge of the world to the mortal realm, broke his left horn and lost his parents when they tried to retrieve and protect his dying form from human hunters who were attracted by his fall. bc of his broken horn, zydonia lost a part of his dragon powers and his dragon form, turning into a much smaller, humanoid form. his parents death set off his berserker mode, a state a dragon goes in when overwhelmed by intense emotions and unleashing their powers in an extremely mass destructive burst. zydonias wrath was the most powerful and destructive anyone has ever witnessed and it led to him unintentionally wiping out the entire region. the goldclaws were attracted by his powers and came to the rescue; he was healed and brought back by the king who adopted him as his own son, fascinated by his powers and potential. despite his lost dragon form, the dragons still considered him as one of their own. even when he took over his deceased adoptive father and became king, he was loved and respected. he inherited the clans magic but is unable to use it bc of his broken horn, making him a flawed and unworthy king in the eye of another, specific dragon clan who soon came up with a plan to get their claws on his magic, murder him and take over (leaving this all out so this wont get any longer than it already is) back to the present, he was jailed in a dungeon when he got careless and was eventually busted out by titus and the others. ofc his jailbreak didnt go unnoticed and soon hes wanted all across the lands since hes considered a threat to the world due to the annihilation of an entire region when he was a kid a long long time ago; his powers as a grown dragon are much more destructive now and he possesses just one horn. he made a deal with titus; helping him grow strong and stop his father in exchange for busting him out of the dungeon and helping him find his lost horn to regain his form and powers. zydonia is very proud and confident and shameless. he comes off as easygoing, seeking amusement and always speaking his mind, no matter how naughty or "unkingly" it might be. despite his behavior, he still carries himself with a kings aura so its pretty clear he has royal manners and knows how to behave. he simply chooses not to, for the fun of it. hes stronger and more powerful than anyone else but does not brag about it and rather teaches the others how to "suck less" and get better. he only steps into fights when he knows the enemy is outclassing the others. zydonia has his eyes set on vin and loves to banter and tease. it seems he prefers people who dont like him at first and are not afraid to be honest and speak rudely to him.

[the failed prince] titus von morganastatt

age: 21 years

height: 187cm

species: human

the failed 2nd prince of Morgana. he had an older brother who he loved dearly and a onesided relationship to his father; his father neglected him a lot and didnt pay him much attention, rather favoring his brother aris who was way smarter and more capable than titus. his brother always tried to shield him from their father, willing to take on all the royal duties so titus could have a much more innocent childhood without his fathers sharp eyes and strict hand. its why titus never had to bother much with politics, diplomacy or all the "paperwork" that comes, only focusing on honing his body and eager to fight exciting battles. he doesnt understand much of such things and his father regards him as stupid and not capable to follow into his footsteps and run a country like the strict king he is himself. when aris died, it destroyed both titus and his father. unlike titus tho, his father let the grief consume and corrupt him and soon he started to plan to sacrifice his remaining son to zydonia to resurrect aris, offering a hundreds bodies for the magic to work, including vin and bell who were accompanying titus. he wasnt aware tho that zydonia is unable to use the ancient magic bc of his broken horn. titus was already aware that his father had some wicked plans and knowing for certain now makes him want to stop and save him. he pretends to be dead and starts a new life, learning how to be a proper king unlike his father and growing stronger so he can confidently return to his home and face him and end whatever he started. titus is a very purehearted and kind prince; always believing in the good of people even if someone wronged or insulted him. hes naive and a little dumb at times and always needs a bit to fully understand things. he admires vin a lot bc of his intelligence and considers him his best friend since he always stuck around him. he also looks up to zydonia and learns a lot from him, both useless and useful things in all kind of matters. when he becomes king later on, a lot of the way he handles things is how he learned from watching zydonia since hes also a king.

[the assassin] bell

age: 22 years

height: 168cm

species: human

originally hailing from an assassin clan, she was ordered to join the royal army as an undercover knight and assassinate the royal family. however, she was assigned to titus own knights and when they met, they immediately became friends. just like titus, bell is chaotic and easygoing. the way she talks might be considered rude which is smth titus finds amusing and refreshing. she behaves very bold and doesnt care what others think. when they make their deal with zydonia bell is the first who announces she will follow titus and "beat the kings ass". she was ordered to assassinate the family but after becoming friends with titus, she doesnt want to carry out that order. the clan always kept her in the shadows and theres many things she wasnt allowed to do or enjoy; titus, vin and zy are her first friends and she decides to follow their light and do the things she wants and not what is expected of her. so, pretending to have died in that dungeon is also freeing her and allowing her to live a life she always wanted. bell is really strong (both physically and verbally) and skilled; shes often considered to have "bad manners" but doesnt care how others think of her. she doesnt hesitate to kick someones ass if theyre becoming annoying. shes perceptive and a quick thinker but still a bit silly at times. she and zydonia share the same chaotic energy and combined they definitely destroy vins nerves in record time.

[havenroyals]

Breaking news: Dymond Joy is divorcing Titus Rawkis.

Hours after Dymond Joy's rep put out a statement that the R&B diva is divorcing fellow singer Titus Rawkis, he is spotted with actress Judith Ward. The singer and Hollywood royalty were seen leaving a restaurant for a "lunch date." Sources close to Judith have spoken about their "concerns" for this new "relationship."

One friend said, "The way they got together is a bit sweet, but I still cannot support them. Titus reached out to Judith to check on Diana - after those disgusting photos came out. Judy was so touched and drawn to him. She's been single for a decade, but he is not right for her."

Fans of Titus have taken to the internet to express their rage. Not rage over his split and rebound. The fans are outraged that Titus is in a relationship! Full stop. Not a care that his wife is reportedly divorcing him due to infidelity. Not a single concern that he was accused of shooting Dymond by Gina Rawkis.

The T-lovers - the names of his fanbase - have flooded Judith's socials with hateful comments and weapon emojis. Titus has not spoken out to calm his fans, and they are full-on pissed that he is not available for one of them to snatch up.

Ending on a positive note, Dymond has shared the first photos of her baby boy. No name has been shared, but her PR team has stated the little guy has his mother's surname and not Titus's.

Come back to Gossip Queen for more messy celebrity news.

GQ | Previous | Next

[heartfullofleeches]

Executioner Jester Darling....

Cheerful, bubbly human darling apart of Titus' [Space Emperor Yan] guard who's so tiny and sweet compared to their fellow guards most kind of forget they are the tyrant's most prolific Executioner. Their axe is almost twice their size and watching them drag it around is almost comedic to some, but they won't be laughing for long when Darling cuts them down to size.

Titus should have them measured for properly fitting armor, but it's cute to see Darling struggling to peer through the holes in their helmet as they line their blade with their next victim's neck.

"Wahhh! Mr. Titus, Mr. Titus!- I can't see! Where did everyone go!"

Prancing about the crowded hall, the jester stands blinded to the scowls daggered in their direction ad they search frequently for the light at the end of the tunnel. No sight would be granted for in their haste to arrive on time, the clumsy fool had thrown their helmet on the wrong way. As prisoners hiss in disdain over losing their lives to such a pitiful excuse of a guard, the emperor beams with pride and amusement knowing his favorite jewel never fails to entertain.

"Heyyyyy- I can't see! It'll be like hitting a pinata back home! I wonder how many swings It'll take to find you- Haha, this'll be so much fun! Mr. Titus, if I manage to chop off all their limbs before they bleed out can I have extra dessert tonight?"

"Anything for you, my silly little devil."

[candyswirls]

For the requests - can I please ask for any Gadriel fluff/smut/comfort (any of these) with fem reader? Thank you!!!

I actually don’t write smut. I got this fluffy idea almost immediately. There’s not enough old women. This kinda took a path all its own.

He huffed as he paced impatiently within his room. What was the lieutenant hiding? Even now he was resting in his quarters after collapsing when they came in contact with those marks of chaos. It was too strange. Too suspicious. He-

“Gadriel,” rasped an old voice just outside the door.

He paused in his anger.

“I know you’re in there.”

He sighed, knowing he couldn’t bring himself to keep her out.

He opened his door, letting an old ad mech shuffle in with her cane. Blue lenses were dim and any bit of skin was wrinkled and leathery. Her legs squeaked.

He took a knee and assisted her getting up to sit on his bed. She stared forward, hand resting on her cane.

She patted his pauldron, “You’re still such a good boy.”

He didn’t move as she reached out and pinched a cheek.

“And still very handsome,” she added. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“You know I never deny a visit from you,” the Sergeant said.

“Mmm,” she hummed. “How goes the fight?”

“We have achieved victories but we suffer the loss of our brothers,” Gadriel growled. “Lyreo and Elion… they are dead. And I wasn’t even with them.”

“You regret this decision?” She inquired. “Not like you to split up your squad.”

He scoffed, “It was not my decision. The captain has placed a lieutenant over my squad. He has my command.”

“You do not sound pleased,” she commented while rhythmically nodding. “Speak to me.”

Gadriel spoke freely, “He does things in strange ways. He is cut off and will not speak to us. I feel as though he is already disappointed with us. Condemning our actions before they have even happened! He shuts down my suggestions despite I having lead this squad before him!”

“It is always difficult to relay leadership to another,” she said. “You always found that difficult. You’ve always been ambitious. Hmm, but I sense this is not all?”

“His past is shrouded in mystery,” he exasperated. “He refuses to tell us anything. I question his motives and who he really is. He was part of the Deathwatch, a noble honor, but acts as if though it is a shame! He also collapsed upon coming across signs of the archenemy. Even now he rests in his room.”

“The captain will not listen to my concerns. He is dismissive. I know he cannot afford internal strife among the ranks and is more concerned with this war. Yet why place the Lieutenant over my squad? I have tried to consider what errors I have made to cause this decision but I am still at a loss!”

She placed a hand on his, signaling to him that it was his turn to listen.

She reached up and smoothed back some of his hair, cold metal brushing his skin.

“My poor Gadriel,” she hummed. “So many questions. So few answers. Perhaps this lieutenant is not here as a punishment to you but as a test. Maybe one from the captain. Maybe from the Omnissiah. Maybe just a simple case of clashing personalities. Do not dismiss your past accomplishments and drive.”

“But-“

“Ah, ah, ah,” she hushed. “You can’t fool me. Astartes pass all the time. Baselines even more. The passing of your squad mates is not your fault. Nor is it your lieutenant. There’s always the case of a better or different choice. We don’t always make them. This is war.”

Gadriel looked like he wanted to protest but chose not to. He wouldn’t dare argue with her solely out of respect.

“As for the suspicion,” she continued. “You are resourceful and academic. You know how to research. If others will not tell you, learn for yourself. There should be records on this Astartes. Reading to gain knowledge and learn of history is the best thing one can do for themselves.”

Gadriel nodded, “I know. You taught me that. I planned to go to the archives soon.”

“Good. I shan’t keep you long. We’ll both be headed the same direction. But I had to come see you though. I always know when one of my boys is upset.”

She cupped his cheek, “You fight hard, you follow your orders, remember the codex and what I taught you. But most of all, remember: you should enjoy fighting for the Omnissiah.”

He nodded and found himself resting his head on her lap.

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “You always put me at ease. I am honored to have you as a mentor. I admit, I find physical affection embarrassing but I appreciate you speaking to me in the privacy of my room.”

She chuckled as she stroked his head, “Like I said Gadriel, I know you. Now come, help an old magos back to the archives. My shipment of new legs won’t be here for a bit and these ones are rusty.”

He helped her off the bed and offered his arm as he assisted her out.

[cardinalcanis]

Wheel of fortune: part 1.

"Hey kid? Wanna go down this ride as I make my OC miserable?"

[Next]

Summary: Cato discovers a well kept secret between the primarch and his right hand man.

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x Ovidius Sulla (M!OC)

Tw: Cato, violation of privacy

Word count: 707

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @druidwolf21 @wolf-feathers12 @artemisareia @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal

@moodymisty @lemon-russ @thisuserislilsilly

@sinistermojo @beckyninja @justallll @ms--lobotomy @pluvio-tea

@cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @finchly-tintinnabulation

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

Cato Sicarius strode through the hallways of the Macragge’s Honor  with military precision in each step. He had a simple task: deliver a set of vital documents to Primarch Roboute Guilliman. But as he approached the Primarch’s private quarters, an inexplicable sense of foreboding began to settle in his gut.

Sicarius reached for the door, hesitating momentarily, finding it slightly open. He should have knocked anyway, as Guilliman’s privacy was sacred. Something about the atmosphere emanating the room felt charged, he readied his gun in one hand, he had outlived enough tricks of the warp to identify when something was off. What if the Primarch had been secretly attacked during the recent warp jump? 

The commander of the Victrix Honour Guard’s training kicked in as he readily peered through the opening, just as if ambushing the enemy in the field. The sight that greeted him was unexpected, nothing in the Codex Astartes had prepared him for it.

There, on the edge of Guilliman’s grand, well-ordered desk, sat Ovidius, his disgusting mechanical hands wrapped around the Primarch's shoulders. Guilliman was sitting on the floor over his knees, the only way they could make it so their heights sort of match. Seeing his gene sire on his knees in front of a human overfilled Sicarius with scorn, this, this must be some ruinous corruption. 

The warmth of their closeness radiated between them. Sicarius’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding with disbelief. In that moment, Ovidius leaned in, pressing his lips softly against Guilliman's in a tender kiss, their eyes momentarily closed as they gave themselves to the moment. His disgust grew as he saw how the Primarch melted and surrendered to the Head Logistician’s touch, weakness, that man is planting weakness inside his gene sire. 

There were so many feelings competing inside him; shock, a visceral jolt of confusion and anger. How dare they? The thought flared within him like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the shadows of jealousy and betrayal that lurked in his heart. As he stood frozen at the threshold, he found himself grappling with a tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

There was an undeniable sincerity in their connection, an authenticity that radiated from their shared gaze. Ovidius’s usual anxious demeanor melted away in Guilliman’s presence, replaced by a radiant trust that made Sicarius’s chest ache and stomach churn. The Primarch, the demigod, seemed lighter, almost human, in that fleeting moment. Impossible, Guilliman is not human, whatever this is it’ll only bring them ruin. 

Sicarius clenched his fists as the kiss lingered in the air, a silent promise between them, and as Ovidius pulled away, a shy smile graced his lips, illuminating his features. Guilliman’s eyes softened, a glimmer of affection and vulnerability that should not have a place in a being such as a primarch. How long has this been going on? How did it start? He had seen how competent the Head Logistican was at his position but there was something he couldn’t shake off. He knew mortals and how all they change and twist after having a taste of power. That’s why The Son of Ultramar reinstated the tetrarchs among his gene sons, so they would rule without the corruption that inhabits normal human hearts. The Avenging Son was powerful, and Ovidius had gotten just a taste of what that power was, the bastard wanted more. 

He leaned away from the open door and placed the gun back into its holster. Composing his emotions he would politely knock on the door. 

“My Lord, it is I, Cato Sicarius. I bring you updates from the situation on the western front.” he said, masking his disgust with many layers of cold formality. 

It took Roboute Guilliman a bit longer than usual to respond, Cato’s expression twisted as he waited. 

“Commander Sicarius, you may come in.” His gene sire’s voice answered in its usual tone, away from the human he was playing as. 

He entered, the room had shifted, with Guilliman back behind his desk and the Administratum leech sorting paperwork in a far corner. Cato wondered not for how long this charade had been going on, but how he would stop it. But not now, he must pretend nothing happened.