#alpharius x reader

[pallysuune]

Summary: The twins were identical in almost all ways. But in the bedroom is where you can always tell them apart. Pairing: Alpharius Omegon/fem reader

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, could make the argument for manipulation. Not yandere, but imprisonment, I guess? Primarchs being primarchs. Uh, twins' bedroom shenanigans and sharing a partner.

A/N: Don't judge me. XD

The twins were identical. Even more so than those of the Alpha Legion who had undergone surgery to change their faces and look more like their primarchs. It was said that they were one soul split into two bodies, and you could actually believe that. They even acted perfectly alike, seemingly without any practice or trying to. They could communicate with just a glance. They made themselves interchangeable.

The Alpha Legion in general did everything possible to obfuscate all information that they could.

Which made the fact that they took you on as a rememberancer more than a little strange. Yes, you knew the Emperor was encouraging all of his sons to take ones with them, but the ease with which Alpharius agreed should have raised alarms. Now, you knew that he had agreed so easily because he had no intention of ever letting you go.

He took you on, and he let you learn things no one else could ever know.

Which, if you were honest, kind of endeared him to you. He - and his twin - were both charming, and seemingly opened themselves up to you and you alone. Perhaps they had some plan in telling you, or perhaps they simply wanted someone to know the truth of things, even if it could never be public. You doubted you'd ever know the truth. All the same, you found yourself drawn in by them and, before you knew it, you were far more than just a rememberancer to them.

You had heard from their own lips their histories, their upbringings, and it was knowing these that helped you come to recognize them better.

You see, Omegon had told you that he had grown up on an uninhabited planet and only encountered other people when he was already an adult, where as Alpharius grew up around, but unseen by, the courts on Terra. Why was this important? Because Omegon fucked you like a beast.

You were pressed face down into the massive bed, your forearms bracing you just enough to keep your face from being smothered by the sheets. His hands circled your waist, holding your hips angled perfectly for him to pound into you, filling you to the limit again and again. He was hunched over you, his huge frame shadowing you, the heat from his body almost suffocating in a way that made your head spin. He was intoxicating. Omegon peppered nips over your shoulders, teeth dragging over your skin. He bit down a little harder on the back of your neck, giving a nearly inaudible groan against your skin.

It was hard to think of anything other than him. Everything was heat and sweat and that pleasure-pain of being so very, very full.

He pulled out of you with a suddenness that left your head spinning. A soft gasp tore from your lips. A second later, the searing heat of his release painted your back in thick ropes of cum. He groaned again, deeply. Deep enough you thought you could feel it in your bones, but that may have been your imagination.

One thing that wasn't your imagination, though, was the throbbing need that still pulsed through you. You were so close to cumming, and he had so cruelly pulled away.

There was a soft chuckle from the side, and you felt the bed move at your side before there were hands on you once more. A cloth was dragged halfheartedly over your back to clean you up before those hands settled at your waist, drawing you up. "I keep telling you to be more considerate of her," Alpharius admonished, tutting. His voice was laced with amusement.

It was a game for them. Leaning into Omegon's desires and turning it into a play with their bed as the stage. You knew that, but there was still something about it that you enjoyed.

You were lifted up into Alpharius' lap, your legs stretched on either side of his, his hard cock sliding against your wet sex. But he didn't push into you. Instead, he curled an arm around your waist to hold you there while his other hand slid down, fingers tracing your slit lightly. Dazed, you lean back against him, your head tipped back against his shoulder. Omegon sat in front of the two of you, naked and smirking, very clearly enjoying the sight before him.

"And how would you be considerate, then?" he asked, his voice deep and husky still, with a little more of a growl to it than normal.

A thick, slick finger brushed oh-so-softly over your clit. Even that light of a touch pulled a gasp roughly from your lips and caused your hips to buck, grinding unintentionally against the hard cock still resting against your sex. Alpharius chuckled again.

"Watch closely and I'll show you."

You realized you were in for a long night.

[diabolicalevil]

Riffing on the Primarch break up headcanons and the marrying someone else headcanons, what if the beloveds marriage to someone else was aragnged? Maid of Honor slips a note explaining the clusterfuck to a member of the legion, who passes it to the Primarch. How do you HC the ensuing debacle goes down?

Primarchs finding out you were forced into an arranged marriage

gn!reader

ohh I hadn't even though about it while writing the og post lol. they're not too different from the orginal I suppose

@thethronezone incase you're interested in the part 2

cont. of this post

Warnings: none

Lion El'johnson: Yeah he would still challenge them to a duel just, like, To the Death I guess. He has a protector kink I'd say? While this situation is horrible and sad for both of you he does get off a wee bit on the fact he's rescuing you. As soon as you're back in his "custody" he's locking you in the princess tower.

Fulgrim: Mobilises his legion to sabotage the wedding as he goes in to profess his love and air out the situation VERY publicly. rip fulgrim u would've loved telenovellas

Perturabo: Annoyingly smug. he Sucks guys. Oh you were forced into this? Yeah I bet you were. cause you're just a sad, helpless, weak little stupid baseline, aren't you? Privately threatens your fiance and the situation magically resolves.

Jaghatai Khan: Yeah I don't think the nature of the marriage would stop him from stealing/eloping/kidnapping you. Whatever you wanna call it again ur gawn.

Leman Russ: The Space Wolves would DEFINITELY sabotage the wedding in this case. Explodes ur fiancé's head right on the stage sorrryyy.

Rogal Dorn: He'll object but also has 500 contingency plans in case you don't want to leave, can't leave, hostage situation, fiance is powerful war wise, if the carpets are an ugly colour etc etc he's thought it all through.

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

Sanguinius: Air strikes! Doesn't bother professing his love publicly, it's not for the ears of your fiance or anyone who went along with this. Soft launches a proposal as he's giving a speech to his legion about another successful attack.

Ferrus Manus: Still angry, but also disgusted. He ultimately believes in the good of humanity but considers this a sick and disgusting thing to do. He let's some of his idiot sons out of their stupid cage as extra intimidation and just, walks out the venue with you. lol

Angron: KILL MAIM BURN but not from him, surprisingly. He too is letting his idiots off their leash with the promise of whoever retrieves the fiancé's head gets a pat on the shoulder from him. This is a Lie. He picks you up and fucks off.

Roboute Guilliman: Frantic but livid. He's going through all the correct procedures of "rescuing" you and calling off the wedding but he is barely containing the urge to rip your fiancé's lung from his chest. Well, he wouldn't do it in the moment but mysteriously he turned up dead? huh, weird.

Mortarion: Annoying Motherfucker lmao. A part of him believes this isn't true and that you actually wanted this. In his self loathing he would miss the chance to act in the moment and gave to *rectify it later. *read: kill with poison

Magnus: mind control, its very effective.

Horus Lupercal: Objects but he's less Cunt about it. He's just fucking angry and is rapidly approaching with intent to kill as he half confesses half threatens everyone present.

Lorgar Aurelian: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (occasionally turns to your fiance and condemns him to hell) (the word bearers are gonna fucking GET him)

Vulkan: He'd never kill a human for no valid reason but he's honestly debating whether or not this counts as a valid reason. He objects and proposes very romantically and frankly, who's gonna stop a man that size from just walking off with you?

Corvus Corax: Grits his teeth and let's it go through. He doesn't want you to have the association as his romantic interest because it would endanger you. But mysteriously your husband turns up dead oh no you'll just have to come under the protection of his legion because there's a killer out there.

Alpharius & Omegon: sabotaged the wedding with their weird minion sons And they are going to kill your husband. Maybe take his place maybe not but he won't stay alive

okkii hopefully this was different enough from the last one and entertaining

[druidwolf21]

How would the primarchs react if the reader was sick like a flu or a cold?

Thanks so much for the ask! Ive been dying to write something like this and now you've given me the oomf to do it!!

Hope you enjoy!

Sickness bug

Lion El'Jonson

Everything hurt.

Your throat was sore, joints aching and every time you opened your eyes, you felt a starburst of pain bloom in your head.

yep, definitely the flu.

"Why aren't you dressed and ready?"

Lions voice was like a thunderclap in your skull, shooting pains causing you to curl into a ball and whine.

"I think I'm sick, I cant go" you shivered, the words barely making past your chattering teeth.

"Why are you sick? I need to attend this governance meeting before we leave orbit"

"I didn't do it deliberately" you rolled your eyes and immediately regretted it, groaning and wrapping your arms around your head. "You can go without me"

You heard Lion grumble for a moment and listened to him shuffle around, his heavy steps moving across the bedroom. Even without opening your eyes, you could sense him standing at the bedside, feeling his piercing gaze trawling over your shivering form.

"Ugh fine, give me a moment and I'll MHMP!"

A heavy weight engulfed you, smothering your words. It was rough, the course material felt well worn as you struggle beneath it inhaling the smell of spent bolter rounds and something more familiar.

"Is this...your cloak?"

Blearily you opened your eyes. Lion shrugged and straightened his tunic, a faint pink colouring his cheeks. You smiled up at him softly and drew the cape up around you, nuzzling into it.

"Thank you, Lion"

The primarch grunted, turning away from you and making his way to the door. Creaking it open, he cast one last glance over his shoulder.

"I'll send an apothecary up to check in whilst I am gone"

"That's really not-"

"It isn't a request."

The door snapped shut behind him.

Lion El 'Jonson stood at the door listening intently until your breath slowed as you fell asleep.

"You" he growled, grabbing a passing marine. "I want an extra guard stationed until my return and an apothecary here every hour to monitor their vitals, am I clear"

The dark angel bowed "Yes, My lord"

"And make sure the apothecary sends that report to me. If I'm not updated..." He let the threat hang in the air before turning to leave.

"Of course, My lord."

Fulgrim

"My love you look absolutely dreadful!"

Fulgrim peered at you, concern in his violet eyes.

"Do you have a fever? come here"

He lent down and pressed his forehead to your, holding for a moment before pulling back with a scowl.

"Hmm, you feel warmer than usual. Don't worry"

You lay on the bed in a haze of fevered thoughts and cold sweats, barely hearing the gurgling of water and the faint scent of lavender drifting from the bathroom.

"Come here"

Lifting you up in his arms, he carried you across the bedroom into the bathroom, setting you down gently in the warm water of the bath before slipping in behind you. His arms enveloped you and pulled you back against his chest, holding you close.

"We cant have you sick. Whatever will people think of me if they see my little consort looking so frail."

His lips pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hair as you leant back into him with a sigh.

"That's it, just relax." His fingers gently kneading into your aching body "I've sent for a doctor, I'm sure he'll sort you out..."

The "or else" didnt need to be said. You just hoped this medic could cure the flu, for his sake.

Perturabo

"You are exaggerating, get up"

You groaned, rolling to the side of the bed and trying to stand. your legs held your weight for a moment before your head began to swim and your knees buckled, the floor rushing up to meet you.

You opened your eyes and found yourself tucked safely back into bed, the blankets wrapped tight around your body and a steaming mug placed next to your head on a small bedside table.

Perturabo looked up from his desk, pushing aside a mass of metal and rising from his chair.

"Your body is weak" He stated, monotone.

"Its just a cold" you wheezed, trying to pull yourself upright.

"Don't sit up, you will make it worse"

He glared at you until you shuffled back under the blanket and dragged his hand down his face.

"You will remain here, I cannot afford to be worried about you. I have matters that need attending"

"I'm sorry"

"Dont be sorry, be better"

You stared down at the blanket, wringing the fabric between your fingers as the primarch continued to frown at you. He stepped beside the bed, and in a moment of shocking softness, placed his hand softly on he crown of your head.

"I mean it. I want you better"

He coughed, straightening himself before storming over to the door.

"I will be back in 48 hours. I trust you will be fit and ready to resume your duties."

"I will."

Jaghatai Khan

You wrinkled your nose as the apothecary handed you a steaming mug.

"What is this?" You sniffed it and wretched, holding it away from your face "It smells like an aduu stable"

Jaghatai laughed and gently pushed the cup back towards you.

"On Chogoris, the wise women give it to the sick to help with recovery. It will do you good"

"Khan, it looks like-"

"You would insult me by refusing my home worlds cure?"

His eyes twinkled in amusement, watching you groan, pinch your nose and throw the whole drink down in a few forced gulps.

"I bet you don't make the marines drink this" you gagged, handing the cup back to the medic with grimace.

"My sons do not find themselves laid low by fever"

His hand was heavy on your shoulder, slowly pushing you to lay down. Tanned hides and soft woven blankets welcomed you as you relaxed into the pillows.

"Your making a bigger deal out of this than you need to" you yawned.

The warhawk shook his head, rising to his feet with a sigh.

"You were delirious, tried to mount a jet bike taller than you, fell off the side and passed out. I really don't think I am overreacting"

you shrugged, wincing at the ache growing in your body, unsure if it was from your tumble or your spreading illness.

"i just need practice, thats all"

"And you will. WHEN you are better"

"I'll hold you to that"

Leman Russ

"stay there"

You shook your head, fighting your way free from the pile of pelts and furs and slipping off the edge of the bed. The stone flooring chilling your body from your bare feet to the crown of your head.

"No, I have things I need to do"

Leman growled. A low rumbling sound that reverberated from his chest and through you like an engine.

"Back to bed. Now"

You opened your mouth to retort and stilled, eyes shooting wide as a wave of nausea overcame you. Chills racked your body and you fell forward onto your hands and knees wretching.

Leman was beside you in a second, warm hand pressed to your back, comforting as you fought to keep what little water you'd had down.

"I'm fine" You croaked, tears streaming down your face. "Its just a chill from being outside"

The great wolf snorted, gathering you in his arms.

"You think I of all people don't know about what the cold does to people? You are ill."

placing back in the pile of fur, he buried you deep into the bed.

"There is no shame it in, but you must rest to recover" his palm swept across your head, followed by a gentle kiss to your temple.

"People will think you've gone soft, Leman"

Russ laughed, peppering kisses across your face.

"Oh I am, I am the softest of my brothers"

It was your turn to laugh, the chuckle turning into a groan as pain burst through your muscles.

The smile slide from Lemans face, quickly replaced by concern.

"Enough. Rest now. I'll have the thralls bring broth and herbs. You'll be on your feet in no time"

Grimacing you threw the blankets off yourself in challenge.

"You seem to think i wont get out of bed the second you walk through that door."

Russ considered you for a moment, cocking his head before smirking and huffing a low, keening whistle.

SIlence

only for a moment. Suddenly the thundering of feet and in a whirl of fur and fangs you found yourself pinned beneath his wolves.

"Stay"

Rogal dorn

"You look pale, are you well?"

"Such a flirt, Rogal"

The primarch's face remained emotionless, watching you kick the snow from your boots and pull your coat tighter around your neck. Inwit summer held little difference to its winter, ice and snow still settling on your eyelashes and biting your fingers through your gloves.

You kept staring ahead, towards the hulking shadow of the basecamp in the distance. Flashes of imperial fist yellow broke through the blowing wind, Rogals honour guard clearing a path through the deepest snow.

"You looked pale before we landed. You are ill suited to the cold. It may be detrimental to your health if you continue"

"Rogal Its just a chill, I'm fine"

You kept walking, trying to convince yourself the chill that shook your body was from the frigid air and that the ache in your bones was simply from the walking. Looking up at Dorn, you saw his brow crease and his lips turn down.

You both knew you were lying.

Catching you by surprise, he knelt in front of you and pressed his hand to your forehead.

"You say it is a chill, but your body temperature is exceeding your typical ranges"

His hand felt ice cold on your head and before you could stop, you leant into it, sighing at the small relief. Rogal's eyes narrowed, watching the puffs of air from your laboured breathing. The last of the colour drain from your face and Your legs finally gave and you collapsed forwards into his arms.

That was enough for the primarch.

In one swift movement he gathered you up and pulled you to is chest and into his warmth. Powering through the heavy snow, he easily caught up to his guard.

"Sigismund" He yelled through the howling blizzard.

The astartes was with him almost instantly.

"Vox ahead, have them prepare a warm bath and a hot meal"

You whimpered in his arms as his chest rumbled with the words.

"And want a medic on standby the moment we get in."

"Yes, Lord Dorn" Sigismund huffed, bringing his hand up to his vox link.

"We're nearly there" Rogal whispered, running his thumb over your arm. "Nearly there."

Konrad Kurze

"They are sick, they need an apothecary"

"Is this not common for baselines?"

"That doesn't mean its a normal fever"

You blinked your eyes open, fighting to regain your focus through the cloud that blanketed your mind; everything was too loud, too bright, too hot.

"Konrad?" you croaked, feeling like your voice was breaking your vocal cords with each warbled note.

His face appeared over you, tilted in confusion. His eyes were wide and dark, hyper focused on you. You reached for him, trying to cup his cheek but finding the strain too much, your arm fell back limply. He watched your hand dangle off the edge of the bed and grimaced, turning to snarl at someone you couldn't see.

"Jago, get someone. NOW"

The sound of ceramite screeching along metal overwhelmed you, the nightlord sprinting off to find a medic.

"Konrad"

"I am here." a finger ran along your arm, raising goosebumps along your skin. "You are sick. A medic will fix you"

You shook your head and cried as your muscles seized.

"Its just flu, they wont be able to do anything."

"Then I will find one who will" he grinned, teeth flashing in the dark. "I will break a thousand men and women until I find one who will"

"That's not how the flu works"

Konrad's head dipped low, almost nose to nose with you.

"Fear is a good motivator. we will cure this Flu in hours" he pulled away as the sound of grinding metal and shrieking grew louder.

"Looks like the doctor is in"

Sanguinius

"I feel sick"

you looked down from the arching window in the tower, red dunes and dust motes stretching far beyond the horizon, heat breaking the clear view with soft ripples of warm air rising from the sand.

"Scared of heights?"

Sanguinius stepped up behind you, standing a hairbreadth away and following your line of sight. You listened to the breeze sift through the tower and ripple softly through his feathers, the keratin whispering quietly with the motion. The moment you had stepped from the thunderbird and breathed in Baals air, your body had begun to tire and ache, bile sitting in your stomach.

Now, standing atop the vantage point and inhaling the dry air, grey began to flicker around your vision and you felt your energy drain like someone had pulled a plug. You tried to turn to look at the primarch.

"No, I feel-"

The world tilted suddenly and you struggled to maintain your balance. You blinked and suddenly the ground was rushing up to meet you and the wind screamed in your ears. through dimming eyes, you could see the silhouette of Sanguinius framed against the sun; wings spread wide, framed in scarlet rays. He tucked his wings in and plummeted towards you, his arm stretched out towards you and his face contorted.

".....symptomatic.....fever"

".....what about......"

You bolted upright and immediately groaned when pain coursed through your body. the muffled voices halted, replaced by footsteps and a soft hand on your shoulder. Looking up, you met Sanguinius' concerned gaze and smiled before casting your eyes around you, finding yourself tucked into bed.

"What happened?"

Sanguinius grimaced and sat at the edge of the bed.

"A virus, the apothecary seems to think. You have a fever."

He shook his head and sighed, wings shuddering with tension.

"You fainted, I thought id lost you"

You reached for his hand, pulling it from your shoulder to press a kiss to his knuckles.

"Its just the flu, I'll be fine"

The angel stared at you, rising to his feet.

"You almost died. This isn't Just anything. I was careless and it wont happen again You're staying here. where I can keep an eye on you."

"Sanguinius, really im-"

"No."

You faltered at his tone.

"I have never balked at anything. Whether it has passed or is still to come. But today? Today I felt fear for the first time and it will not happen again. Please, just rest"

"....Okay"

Ferrus Manus

"Here"

Ferrus knelt beside you, holding a glass towards you as you wretched.

"Thank you"

You sipped, relishing the cool water trickling down your parched throat. Sweat beaded on your forehead and trickled down your face as shivers wracked your body. Hopeful at the drink staying down, you took another sip, instantly regretting it as you gagged and doubled over again.

"Sorry" you gasped between heaves. "You don't have to stay, its not pleasant"

The gorgon shrugged, watching your body convulse with each hacking cough.

"Its fine. Some marines suffer similar symptoms with new augmetics. I will have an apothecary bring something up to help with the nausea."

He brushed a finger over your cheek, stilling when you gasped at the contact.

"That feels nice" you wheezed, rubbing your cheek against the living metal.

Wordless, he shifted and placed his chilled palm to your forehead, sliding his other hand over your back.

"Better?"

You nodded in response, feeling the cold already fighting the fever ravaging your body.

"Yes, thank you. I wont keep you, I know you have work to do"

His fingers flexed against your skin before he replied.

"No. I will stay. As long as you need me"

Ferrus' voice was low, softer than usual, but before you could react, the sickness rose again in your throat and you spasmed. As the wave passed, exhaustion gripped your body and you slumped forward, resting fully on the primarch's forearm.

"It'll be alright. I'm here"

Angron

"You are being ridiculous"

Angron spat the words at you, watching you struggle to dress yourself in fevered delirium.

"I have things to do, I cant-" Your words cut shut as you toppled forward. Angron reacted instinctively, catching you before you hit the ground and shocking himself with the tenderness he found himself holding you with. Hissing, he lifted you up made his way to the door with you clutched in his grip, close to his chest.

"Angron, put me down"

"No. You refused a direct order. I've had men executed for less."

You blanched in his arms. "Where are you taking me?"

"Medical bay"

Astartes scrabbled out of his way as he strode down the tarnished iron halls, snarling at any marine to slow for his liking.

"Clearly you are delirious" He huffed "That's the only explanation for why you continue to enrage me"

"I'm sorry" your voice quivering almost as much as your body. "I just want to help"

"Help me by not being such a pain in my ass" He grumbled, kicking the medical bay open and dropping you onto a bed. A medic sculked over, eyeing you carefully under the primarch's burning glare.

"I want them fit and active. Whatever it takes"

"Yes, my lord, of course" the medic bowed low and rushed to gather his supplies.

Feeling Angron's eyes on you, you sat in silence picking at the bedsheet until he finally spoke again.

"Sickness took a lot of good people on Nuceria. I will not witness any more."

He turned to leave, halting at the door for one split second.

"Take your health seriously. I will return for you tomorrow"

"Thank you, Angron"

Roboute Guilliman

Sprawled beneath blue silken sheets, the serf approached your bed with a tray laden with a steaming bowl and a pitcher of crystal water. They set it down at your bedside and smiled, bowing before they left. sighing, you straightened yourself up and glanced across the room.

"Tarasha this really isn't necessary, I have meetings to attend."

The woman bustled about the side of your bed, straightening the fabric and tucking it against you.

"Nonsense. Rest up now and you can work twice as hard later hmm?"

"More like have twice the work"

Tarasha slapped your hand affectionately, moving to fluff your pillow. The door creaked open and you both paused, turning towards the noise as Guilliman walked in.

"How are you feeling?" he hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You still feel warm, are you drinking enough?"

"Not you too" you groaned "I am fine, its just a cold. Please tell the honourable lady Euten that I'm perfectly capable of working"

Roboute snorted, sharing a look with his mother.

"I wouldn't argue with her. Its like arguing with a brick wall"

"Is that anyway to talk about your mother, Roboute?" Tarasha chided, pouring you a glass of water and holding it out to you.

"No Mam"

"Besides, you're one to talk, when was the last time you slept?"

You laughed, watching your husband, primarch of the ultramarine stand like a lost child as his mother berated him.

"The pair of you are just as bad as each other. Both of you stay here, I'll have some more blankets brought up and you can both get some sleep." she gestured at soup at your bedside. "And make sure you eat all of that by the time I get back"

With that, she was gone.

"I'm never leaving this bed, am I" you whined to Guilliman.

"I don't think either of us are ever leaving this room"

Mortarion

"Deep breaths"

Mortarion's hand was cool on your skin, fingers cupping your fevered flesh as he poured cold water along your back. You flinched at the frigid temperature trickling down your spine, feeling his grip on you tighten slightly.

"I know, but we need to bring your temperature down"

You couldn't stop the desperate cry escaping your lips when the water hit your skin again, body recoiling away only to be held still by slender fingers.

"I know" Mortarion soothed, kissing tears from your cheeks. "Just one more ok? one more and then it done."

His voice was low and calm, drawing you out of your fevered mind and back to the present.

"Its too much" you sobbed, leaning your head into his chest as he leant over the side of the bathtub.

"I know. I know it is. You're doing so well"

He watched coughs shake you, worry etched across his pale face. his own lungs screamed at him, perhaps in sympathy, knowing the pain that was coursing through your frail body.

Finally relenting he gathered you in his arms and wrapped you in a towel, feeling you quake in his grip. His lips brushed your ear, whispering to you words of comfort.

"It will pass" he muttered, running his handover the back of your head and feeling relief bloom in his aching chest as your breathing evened out.

"It will pass."

Magnus

Rivers of iridescent colours flooding past your eyes as you walked across an ocean of stars. In the back of your mind, you felt something tugging you back to reality: a dull, throbbing ache and disjointed fevered thoughts.

"Am i dreaming?" you mused, looking at the night sky below your feet.

"You are"

Looking up, you saw magnus watching you from beneath his locks of auburn hair. He smiled at you, stepping towards you with open arms. You rushed towards him, leaping into his arms and laughing as he spun you.

"What are you doing in here with me?"

His breath ghosted the top of your head and across you cheeks as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

"You're sick" he whispered back "Fevered. You were in pain, so I brought you here until your body has recovered"

"Its only the flu, it'll be gone in a few days"

Magnus held you closer, crushing you tightly to him, like he was afraid to let you go.

"I know. I hated seeing you like that, when I knew I could make it easier"

"you could've just brought me some tea, Magnus"

He finally pulled back, grinning down at you with bright eyes.

"I could, but this is much more fun"

Horus Lupercal

Being sick around Horus was....a lot.

Your private chambers were bustling with activity, serfs and medics constantly dipping in and out to take your temperature, refresh your water and make sure you had eaten. And at any given time, there was always one member of the mournival stood nearby.

"Tarik, you really don't need to hang around for my sake, I'll be fine"

The astartes smirked at you with a lopsided grin, waving you away with a grinding of plasteel

"I am more than happy to. Besides, the warmaster would have my hide if I left your side"

"Surely there are better things for you to do besides watching me sleep, captain."

The marine opened his mouth the reply, before being cut short. "Id answer that very carefully, Torgaddon"

Horus laughed as Tarik leapt to attention slamming his ceramite gauntlet to his head in his hurry.

"Warmaster! I wasnt-"

"Don't tease him, Horus"

Torgaddon slowly relaxed again, Horus clapping him on the shoulder as he walked past the soldier to your bed. Kneeling down beside you, he took your hand in his own and brushed his lips across your knuckles.

"How are you feeling" He mumbled against your hand.

"I'm fine, all better now"

Horus cocked an eyebrow at you, slowly releasing your hand to press a finger to your forehead.

"Mhmm. Then why are you still running a fever."

Brushing his hand away, you shrugged and pouted.

"Probably because I'm stuck under a mountain of blankets and constantly pestered by people!"

"They are here to make sure you get well as quickly as possible"

"I'm fine. I'm just eager to get back to work, as is poor Tarik"

"Please don't bring me into this" Torgaddon blurted out.

You and the primarch both looked over at the marines sudden outburst. You scoffed and then began laughing, your chest seized and you coughed, caught in a loop between laughing, coughing and wheezing for air before finally catching your breath.

"Well that settles it." Horus rose to his feet, rubbing his temples. "You're remaining on bed rest until at least tomorrow. And no arguing!"

You pouted, throwing a pillow at his on his way out and missing him by a good few feet.

"Try again when your better" Lupercal smirked, stepping out the door after watching the pillow land by his feet.

"Quick Tarik, throw it!"

"Absolutely not"

Vulkan

"Please?"

"No"

"please?"

"No"

You'd been going back and forward for a while now, begging for the primarch to hold you whilst he vehemently denied your request.

"Vulkan please"

"You are already running a fever. If i come over there, you will overheat"

Vulkan refused to look at you, knowing he would cave if he looked at you shivering under a pile of blankets.

"Your supposed to sweat out a fever you know"

"That is nonsense" he grumbled, running a cloth along the polished head of his hammer, as he had been doing for the last 10 minutes.

"Its true, I promise"

With a sigh he set down the hammer and finally looked at you. Your eyes were wide, skin flushed and shining with heat and your body shook slightly despite the layers of fabric nestled on top of you.

"Sweating is a symptom of a fever, not a cure"

"Never know unless you try" you grinned, patting the bed next you you.

Vulkan groaned, relenting and striding over to you. You cheered when his weight hit the bed and his thick arms wrapped around your body.

"5 minutes" He rumbled, exasperated

"5 minutes" you repeated back, feeling your temperature instantly double.

Corvus Corax

It was dark and stuffy when you awoke. The air felt too warm and sweat stuck to your skin as fever ran its course through you.

"Corvus" You croaked, voice dry and quiet.

There was no reply, only the faint whisper of wind through the curtains and a thin beam of moonlight creeping through the gaps.

"Corvus" you whined again, struggling to sit upright.

"I'm here"

You saw a shadow break away from the corner of the room, its outline hazy in the darkness. Your vision blurred and faded in and out, trying to focus on his shape.

"I'm here" he repeated again, a pale hand appearing in your eyeline holding a cup. "You felt warm, i went to get you some water"

"Thank you" you swallowed the water in a few desperate gulps, feeling like you'd been deprived for days.

"I think im sick"

"I know"

The side of the bed bowed beneath his weigh as he sat. Pale in the faint starlight, his face was furrowed and lips downturned.

"I don't know what to do" He rasped.

"Just stay with me?"

Cool hands ran along your arms, slipping you back down before he joined you, laying beside you with his arm draped beneath your head.

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere"

Alpharius/Omegon

"I've already had some tea"

"Perhaps, but I didn't see you drink it"

You scowled, pushing the mug away with a sneer.

"yes you did, you made me drink the whole thing in front of you"

The primarch tilted his head, confused. Setting the drink down, he gripped your chin between his fingers and pulled your face up to look at him.

"Who am I" he asked quietly

"Alpharius" you confirmed before squinting at him "Wait, no"

Omegon released you and frowned, glancing back over his shoulder as his brother slipped into view from the shadows. You'd never had any trouble telling them apart before, but as the fever worsened, your ability to tell them apart was slipping.

"You need more rest" he stated plainly, pulling the blankets up higher around you.

"No I'm fine, please I'm sorry"

He paused. "Sorry for what"

You sniffled, gripping his hand tightly "I know who you are, i can tell you apart, I just have a headache that's all, i promise"

"We know" Alpharius appeared over his shoulder, clapping his brother on the arm and smiling. "We're not angry its ok"

"Drink this and I promise I wont be mad" Omegon slid the cup towards you once more.

"You're so mean" You wailed, bringing the rim to your lip and quaffing the medicine inside.

The twins smirked.

"When you can get our names right, then you wont have to drink anymore"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

@beckyninja @moodymisty @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lemon-russ @astrohymn @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @incrediblethirst @kit-williams @iluminatka16 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @bookandyarndragon @thisuserislilsilly @vithralith @absynthe-mind @saintsylestine @meervalv0

[baldieboi]

You prank the Primarchs (wholesome pranks). How do you prank them and what's their reaction? Part 1

Note: I tried. Keyword is tried. I decided to make it into several parts because for some Primarchs I still have no idea. For those whom I already had... here they are.

@ghrgrsfdesfrfg

Perturabo

Perturabo scowled at the hololithic display in his workshop, fingers twitching over the controls. The schematics for his latest siege engine flickered then dissolved into a looping animation of tiny, cartoonish Titans dancing in a conga line.

A note fluttered to the floor.

'Even the mightiest walls need a break. Enjoy the show, Lord of Iron.'

His jaw tightened. His first instinct was to crush the projector in his fist but then against his will a snort escaped him. The absurdity of it, the sheer audacity of someone slipping past his defenses to do this…

He exhaled sharply. "Clever," he muttered. Then after a pause he added "But next time I will find you."

(He kept the animation saved in his archives. Just in case.)

Roboute Guilliman

Guilliman’s stylus paused mid-signature. The document before him was wrong.

'Request for Immediate Deployment of Ultramarines: Operation Tea Party Diplomacy. Objective: Convince Ork Warboss to switch to chamomile.'

He flipped the page.

'Estimated casualties: One (1) teacup, shattered in the inevitable scuffle.'

His brow furrowed. Then slowly he pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is not how standardized forms are formatted," he muttered. But when he spotted the tiny doodle of an Ork in a frilly hat in the margin the corner of his mouth twitched.

By the end of the da the falsified document was pinned to his office door with a single red stamp: 'Denied. But amusing.'

Rogal Dorn

Dorn entered his chambers to find a small, intricate structure on his desk. A fortress. Made entirely of brightly colored plastic bricks.

A note rested beside it. 'Your move, Praetorian.'

He stared. Then with deliberate care he knelt to examine it. The walls were sturdy, the gatehouse functional, the towers… slightly uneven.

"Hmph." He adjusted a block. Then another.

Two hours later when his equerry found him, Dorn was still there surrounded by scattered bricks, his expression one of deep focus. "The foundation needed reinforcement," he said as if that explained everything.

(The fortress remained on his desk for weeks. No one dared touch it.)

Horus Lupercal

Horus unrolled the battle plan with a frown.

'Phase One: Deploy all forces in the shape of a smiley face.'

'Phase Two: Hope the enemy is too confused to fight back.'

'Phase Three: ???'

'Phase Four: Victory (probably).'

He blinked. Then slowly a grin spread across his face. "Oh, this is good," he chuckled, tossing the scroll to Maloghurst. "Find out who did this. Then promote them."

Maloghurst sighed. "My lord, this is a security breach—"

"And the first laugh I’ve had in weeks," Horus said, still grinning. "Worth it."

Lorgar Aurelian

Lorgar’s quill froze over the parchment. The sacred text he’d been transcribing now read:

'And lo, the Emperor did say unto His sons: 'Stop being so dramatic. Have a cookie.''

He stared. Then with a slow bemused smile he set the quill down. "A jest at the expense of divinity," he mused. "Bold."

He almost crossed it out.

Instead, he left it and added a tiny footnote: 'Editor’s note: The cookie was, in fact, delicious.'

Konrad Curze

Konrad’s claws flexed as he stepped into his quarters. The room was wrong.

A chalk outline on the floor. A fake bloodstain (paint, he noted instantly). And a note pinned to the wall with a knife:

'The Night Haunter’s greatest fear: A world without crime. (Also, you left your window unlocked.)'

Silence. Then a low, rasping chuckle left his mouth.

"Clever little thing," he murmured, plucking the knife free. "But next time… I’ll be the one leaving you a message."

(The next morning you found your bunk suspiciously filled with rubber bats. Progress.)

Alpharius – Omegon

You slipped into the dimly lit strategium of the Alpha, heart pounding. This was either the best idea you’d ever had or the last mistake of your very short life.

You left a single data-slate on the hololith table. The message was simple:

'We know you’re not Alpharius.'

Then you waited.

Hours passed. Nothing.

Then as you turned a corner in the ship’s labyrinthine halls a hand clamped over your mouth and yanked you into the shadows. A voice, low, amused, and impossible to place, whispered in your ear:

"Are you sure you’re not Alpharius?"

You twisted but the grip didn’t loosen. A second voice, identical, spoke from the darkness ahead:

"Or perhaps I am."

A third, from behind: "Or me."

You swallowed hard. This had not gone as planned.

Then as suddenly as they appeared the hands released you. A single, mocking laugh echoed down the corridor.

When you checked your pocket, you found a new note:

'Good try. But next time, leave a better trail. –A'

(You spent the next week triple-checking your own identity. Just in case.)

[absynthe-mind]

Primarchs Soulmate AU (with you)

I’ve been writing too much happy stuff, so errrr, some of these are a little diabolical… you guys will forgive me, right, right??!!?!

(will you forgive me if I make a part two of this in a happy version in recompense??? TwT) 

TW: grimdark/cannon typical content, death, self-harm, violence, physiological manipulation, maiming, slavery, child abuse - look its bad in here okay there is only angst and warhammer typical horror to be found

Taglist: @druidwolf21 , @incrediblethirst , @bookandyarndragonwritesdark , @meervalv0

Edited 30/06/2025 for soulmate marker clarity + few extra sentences with Lion + Corvus (more pain >:D)

Lion El’Jonson - I

(Shared sensations)

Crawling under his skin filled his every waking moment. Skin that was warm to the touch of every serf, apothecary and otherwise but felt freezing cold beneath his fingers.

Once upon a time it had felt warm, and he’d felt the kiss of sunlight against him even in the cold depths of space, and he’d felt the soft slip of silk against his own - all sensations he’d shared with them.

He would apologise to them over and over, for feeling what he felt, for the pain he endured in battles, for the cruelty of being bound to him.

You would always wave him off with a smile, swat at him for being silly, reassure him that loving him was worth every moment of agony, of the grip of steel in your fingers and rivers of another’s blood that graced your skin.

Never in those days had he expected to pay tenfold for every lingering gentle moment you’d given him with the constant chilling pressure of your stone coffin on his back.

'Sleeping' was nice, he could almost, almost pretend he was resting with you, that you were finally together again at last.

Fulgrim - III

(Flowers appear where soulmate gets injured)

At least of all the possible soul markings he could have had, they were beautiful, worthy of display on his skin.

Flowers blossom in the most predictable and oddest of places. A rose bush on the back of his arm, forget-me-nots blooming where his lover skinned their knees. They all fade, but he admired their beauty as they last, often sketching them to reminisce on their strange charm and allure at later dates. 

What did you think of the flowers he gave you for mere moments in comparison to your slowly healing wounds? Sometimes he healed so quickly you might not have even noticed delphinium weaving up your torso before it disappeared, and he could imagine your panic at seeing lilies blossoming around your head as he was shot.

Still, he loved the idea that the two of you had gifted flowers to each other long before ever meeting, like the romantic lovers of old, and it was only right he should have such a perfect way to identify you.

He doesn’t find you before the heresy, he doesn’t find you before Rylanor finds him, but when he recovers? He’s determined.

You were the one pleasure he had not yet found, the one ecstasy he was yet to enjoy. Yes, he would find you and teach you the meaning of bliss, of the excess he deserved from you.

It would not be an easy task, scouring the galaxy for you, but he would not leave his search empty handed. He would simply have to make the task easier, make you easier to identify.

The blade doesn’t even register as painful as he carves marks for him to match onto himself.

He just can’t wait, and when he finds you, he can even decorate himself better too - he’s already begun designing how he wants trails of flowers coming down from around his horns, creating designs on his scales, oh he will look so perfect.

Perturabo - IV

(Shared dreams)

Dreams were a waste of time, sleeping was a waste of time. 

There was always work to be done.

He had no use for the weakness that came from sleeping, from the exposure, the vulnerability it presented - if it were not for the biological requirement he would have done away with it all together. He could only be grudgingly thankful that his superior genes meant he needed very little sleep, and when he did, he was rarely cursed with such frivolity as dreams.

Until recently. 

Now, wherever he slept, he dreamt, but these dreams weren’t his own, they were not the past, the present or the future certainty of iron. They were another’s dreams, infecting his own, weakening him with laugher, and sunlight and- 

He slept less. 

Already he slept little, but now he pushed his primarch biology to the maximum, using every advantage, every stimulant, pushing himself beyond the maximum of exhaustion and ignoring what came when he closed his eyes.

It worsened. 

Butterflies haunted him, a swarm of great yellow swallowtails fluttering in the corner of his eye, disappearing when looked at.

The phantom touch of a hand caressing his chin.

A whisper asking him why, begging him to come to bed.

Another cup of recaff is brought to his workshop, he ignores the ribbon swaying in an invisible breeze on the handle.

Jaghatai Khan - V

(Compass tattoo points to them)

The fields of Chogoris were perfect as always for riding, the thundering of hooves carrying him far over the barren grasslands. He had no destination in mind, just a simple ride where his hair could flow freely through the winds, but like always he found himself wandering in the direction it pointed. 

The compass had been a constant companion on his wrist, a marking that the tribal leaders told him would bring him a fortune greater than any lands he conquered.

It did not sit idly on his wrist, luckily not pointing so some distant planet across the galaxy, but only across the mountains and great blue seas. He took great pleasure in seeing it move, pointing across the horizon as he wondered where you were exploring today, hoping you had the same wanderlust and need to run as he did.

When he found you, he found perfection, a person made wholly for him. You matched him at every turn, supported and uplifted him, and better yet like him you did not age. His compass stopped spinning, morphing into a stunning tattoo that captured the very essence of the two of you combined.

It pained him greatly, when he had to leave you behind in charge of ruling Chogoris in his absence, but coming back to you with the galaxy a safer place and the knowledge that one day he’d be able to take you to see the stars by his side, once these crusades were over.

You didn’t age, they had all the time in the galaxy once his work was done, and he could not think of anyone better to take care of his beloved home planet.

The heresy was a mess, he worried for you constantly, but you were safe, Chogoris was safe, and he was to return to reinforce the Yasan sector where his homeworld resided now that it was all over.

You were not safe, you were GONE! 

The Great Khan raged, he knew what those foul eldar did to those they took.

The Drukhari would know no peace, they would know nothing but pain, and he swore unto every power that he would find you once more - what he wouldn’t give to have his compass back, what he wouldn’t give to have you by his side once more.

Leman Russ - VI

(Shared tastebuds)

He has no idea how he’s ever meant to find his mate. Not that it stops him from trying, just that it’s a stupid idea trying to find a soulmate among quintillions of humans by tasting what the other eats. 

Another downside being that their diet is decidedly shit.

Wet slop, wet slop, wet slop.

It’s always the same, no native fruit, fauna, meat - just wet slop, once a day, every other day. Which of course, narrowed it down to just over half of the human population’s factory workers or something similar.

While the slop wasn’t tasteless per say, at the very least he was providing interesting flavours for them, fresh meat, ale - everything you need in life.

More wet slop. 

Though he supposes it's a lie to say that’s all he ever tastes, on occasion the taste of harsh copper tinged blood fills his mouth, and he knows for certain it’s not his.

Wet slop, wet slop, slightly drier (but still pretty wet) slop.

He never thinks to complain about wet slop again when he starts tasting the dry, ashy mix of militarum rations, he can only hold on to some dying hope that his mate will preserve. 

Even knowing what fate it is that awaits them, he can’t wait to take care of them properly, he’ll make sure they never eat slop again.

Rogal Dorn - VII

(Timer counting down to meeting)

Tick, tick, tick. 

It makes no sound but he can mentally hear it ticking down constantly, like a metronome. The inevitability of his demise marching towards him, one tick at a time.

Ticking down to the moment he meets his soulmate, his other half, the one who will ‘complete him’. 

He’s heard the stories of people never having a care in the world about soulmates who meet them and fall in love. Worse yet, he’s seen it happen in even the most stoic of his brothers and sons. 

It was the ultimate distraction, and he had to ban the practice for the sake of the legion.

Tick, tick, tick.

Dread looms over him as he tries to shove the feeling down and finish the blueprint in front of him.

He must not lose focus, he must complete his mission, he must stand strong.

He can’t afford to love somebody, not with his duty. 

There is a plan in place, at least. Once he meets them, he will inform his most loyal sons, who will dutifully escort them away, off planet if necessary - relocate them somewhere remote and far away, never to inform him of their location. 

He will remain steadfast.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick…

Konrad Curze - VIII

(See in colour when soulmates first touch)

Inky blackness spills across his hands out across the deep grey cobbles, accompanied by the flooding taste of iron on his tongue.

Another worthless piece of criminal scum brought to justice. His rancid little accomplices would meet their swift ends soon also. 

The night is silent except for their screams, the snapping of their bones, the squelch of their organs. And the slowly fading gurgling of their victim in the alleyway behind. A shame he had been late to kill them before they inflicted their crimes upon the world, but at least they could die knowing justice had been served.

He organises the drab grey corpses to be skinned before deciding to drag the victim over to see his work, a rare act of kindness, showing at least someone his great deeds and handiwork. They might have lived if he sought medical attention for them first, but then one might have gotten away…

More pitch black liquid was leaking from their mouth, interspersed with little white bubbles now fading. He could hear their heart stuttering as he reached down to pick them up, they had only moments now - and red exploded across his hands. 

Sanguinius - IX

(Red string of fate)

He spends his youth chasing it down across the sky, flying up as far as the atmosphere will allow him before diving down and letting it snap back. 

It was a guide to him, across the barren landscape - that single, unbreakable red thread that ribboned through the air with him wherever he went. He never felt alone with you tethered to him, no matter how far you were.

He grows older and sees more of the universe, and of the future, and the happiness wavers, but meeting you is still the single best day of his life. You’ll be happy together for as long as you both live. 

Time seems to pass in a dreamlike state, living together, loving together freely - he understands the word ‘soulmate’ now.

Even with his inevitable doom on the horizon he takes great joy in living life with you, knowing at least he can make arrangements to keep you safe and cared for in his absence. 

It’s late 003.M31 when he sees it, and feels it will be soon.

How could he ever bear to tell you?

No, no, it would break you. Instead, he’ll ask his closest brother to take care of you for a short while, Horus would keep you well in his absence, he would make sure you were alright for him.

He’s alone, the thread snapped and tattered not meters out in front of him, leading to the cold void of space, like the void where he should feel you.

Blood fills the room, blood fills his lungs, he can just barely distinguish the thread from the red around it. He closes his eyes and hopes he’ll see you when he opens them.

Ferrus Manus - X

(First touch makes skin bloom in colour)

His fingertips are a dull black, bleeding the way up his hands and fading towards his wrist. Everyone who looks at him knows what it means - soulmate. He’ll touch them somewhere and mark them forever, and his own stains will bloom to light with colour.

Stoic as he is, even he can’t help but feel an undercurrent of excitement, there is someone out there for him, someone who will match him pace for pace, who will understand and balance him. 

He’s observed soulmates from afar on Medusa as he became a folk-tale, seen how they improve upon each other. The idea of someone existing who he could improve and would in turn improve him was thrilling.

They were gone now, after the fight.

It was a gruelling one, the great silver wyrm Asirnoth was not an easy beast, and though victory was ultimately his, as he examined his newly coated necrodermis he couldn’t help but wonder if the price was far too steep.

In their absence, he would simply have to pick up the slack in improving himself, there was no place for such weakness.

Angron - XII

(First words written on body)

Words plastered across his skin in angry red, the red of his own fresh blood, “My deepest apologies, my Lord, I didn’t mean-”

The words confused him as a child. Would he overhear them spoken from the mouth of another tortured soul to a cruel master, only to never see them again as they were torn apart? There were no happy endings for soulmates among slaves, there were no happy endings among slaves full stop.

Nothing removed the words, no cut or injury - it would just scab right over and words reform over scarred skin.

He spent every day waiting in agony for the words to start burning, for they day he’d hear them uttered, but that day never came.

He eventually understood what the context would inevitably be once his genefather retrieved him. 

He also understood something else, he did not need some silly little soulmate just waiting for him to wrap a hand around their neck when the nail bit. 

Roboute Guilliman - XIII

(Recieve things the other loses)

The 41st Millennium was exhausting.

A crumbling Imperium, dead brothers, fanatical worshippers, constant pain and exhaustion, the armour of fate-

Quite frankly, when he caught whichever son, serf or other decided pranking him was a good idea theoretically or practically he was going to wring them by the next.

It started with a child’s pacifier on his desk. Is that what they thought of him now? In secret? A petulant child? Perhaps they were instead mocking his father.

Following that, the occasional child’s toys or items would appear in his quarters, on his desk, in his bed, on one occasion in his bath. 

The investigations turned up nothing, and the entire Macragge’s Honour was on tense high alert. His sons were furious, running everyone ragged with increased patrols and interrogations.

Worse yet, someone had begun stealing from him. 

Just little things he thought he’d misplaced in his exhaustion at first, but then they couldn’t be found. A report here, a cup of recaff put down and never picked up again there…

Finally, after several long years, the rumours escape from the tight circle of sons when a colourful toddler’s sock is seen on his armour while he gives a speech. 

However, what follows is not what he had expected, the serfs watching were celebrating for him - a rare soulmate bond, receiving your other half’s lost items. He feels a little foolish for not having put it together in hindsight, but still such a bond was a rarity compared to a red string or first words, he had never assumed he would…

Still, the relief is palpable, and he feels himself growing excited over the thought of a soulmate, someone to be his other half in a lonely galaxy. Soon enough you’d be old enough to communicate through lost items - those missing reports might very well be a boon if they led you to him.

It sets him at ease to know you’re well cared for, the quality of items found indicates you’re from a good, moderately wealthy family and will likely have a good quality of life.

You must be seven or eight when he finds a piece of parchment in the armoury. He sees colourful scribbles and his heart soars, a drawing for him to treasure till he meets you. He mentally calculates the space he’ll need to make to display it on his office wall, should he have it framed perhaps-

It stays in his quarters, buried at the bottom of a hidden lock box, never to be seen again.

A drawing of a happy family, he supposes. A perfect family, if the ears weren’t quite so long.

Mortarion - XIV

(Body switching)

Everybody knew that on midnight of the Terran new year all soulmates switched bodies for 24h until you met them in person. It was always utter pandemonium, from active warzones to school teachers, once both partners were of age, no one was safe.

Mortarion had thought he was safe, and had thought incorrectly. Even being a daemon prince of Nurgle could not save him from the machinations of fate.

He hadn’t kept track of the date, so it was even more jarring when he woke up on a small, battered palette, back aching and joints popping, wondering what had happened in the warp to bring him to such a place.

A mundane room, on a mundane hive world, in a mundane body. A weak, fragile human body, not a weapon to hand. Panic begins to seize him, weak, weak, weak- he was weak all over again, and nothing he could possibly do would give him strength.

It’s an effort that leaves fingers bleeding and lungs heaving to rip out meagre furniture, piling it against the single door, barricading him in for the duration. He could endure a single day, he could- 

It would be every year now. He was bound to this fragile little mortal shell. By the Grandfather- they, they were in his body. So preoccupied by his own predicament he’d failed to even consider that another was in his body right now.

He could only imagine what they were feeling, the confusion, the horror, the revulsion. Being trapped in his rotting, decaying body, the sick scent of putrefaction, being stuck in the garden - without the mental blessings or fortitude to endure his fate.

He could endure a single day trapped in the horror of your failing mortal body, but could you withstand his corruption, what had he made of you? 

Magnus the Red - XV

(You each have one of the other's eyes)

Which one, which one. 

If he got this wrong - if he got this wrong he lost them forever, the potential of ever meeting them was gone.  

But it was his fault, he had to save his legion, his sons, and he was fairly sure he was right… No, he was sure he was right.

The ceremonial knife hovers over his right eye, a trade, a price he must pay to save his sons from the flesh-change. 

An eye was a heavy price for anybody to pay, but for someone who shared a pair of eyes with their soulmate? If he cut the wrong one out he would never be able to find them, that was the true price he paid here today, losing the chance to meet his other half.

He was always confident, thus far he had always known best, but deep down, in his gut, he had a sinking feeling he couldn’t shake that no matter what he did he would get today wrong in one way or another.

He switches, the blade lingering over his left socket, hands shaking.

There just wasn’t enough time, he had to choose now�� 

Horus Lupercal - XVI

(Timer counting to the other's death)

It’s saddening, understandable, but saddening. He looks down at his wrist to see his mortal soulmate’s time ticking away, second by second. He knows precisely when they’ll die, which is in 6 years, 2 months, 11 days, 4 hours, 32 minutes, and 12, 11, 10... 

He’s come to terms with it, he’ll enjoy the time he gets with them, after all - they’ll be meeting for the first time shortly, and he’ll give them a better life than any human could ever dream of having for what’s left of it.

It’s bittersweet meeting them, but there’s something wrong, the look of vague horror on their face, he doesn’t quite-

He looks down at their arm, at his timer, the countdown to his own demise. He promised himself he wouldn’t but he can’t stop himself.

He- he’s a primarch. He- 

Why does he only have 15 years left.

Lorgar Aurelian - XVII

(Writing/tattoos appear on the other)

The last thing he was expecting to wake up to was neat calligraphy on the inside of his wrist, ‘Are you in a cult or something? Do you know how weird it is to walk about with crazy symbols all over your face?’

He stares in shock for a long time before falling to his knees before the altar in his room, praises for The One falling from his lips in prayers and hymns and thanks.

The One had seen fit to bless him with a soulmate, the greatest gift, a second half to his soul. After so long without he had thought…

No matter, he could write with them, speak with them. They clearly did not understand, but that did not matter, they would come to learn through him. 

Kor Phaeron would be so pleased, he had always admonished his lack of soulmate bond as a flaw within him to be punished, one strike for every day he went unblessed. A mark that he was not devout enough to be honoured with such a boon from The One.

He begins to write, paragraphs forming over every free inch of skin, ‘My dearest beloved, we have so much to speak on. These markings are of no mere false cult, you should bear them with the utmost pride as they-’

Vulkan - XVIII

(Shared feelings and thoughts)

Feeling his soulmate’s strong emotions and the occasional smatterings of thoughts to go along with them often happened at inopportune times, but never failed to make him smile - after all, he had a beloved little treasure waiting for him somewhere in the galaxy.

He was even managing to narrow down planets based on thoughts you’d had about the weather, terrain and such…

It pulled him through the hardest of times, your happiness, kindness, those little thoughts you unwittingly shared pushed him forward through the worst of the campaign, even your sadness, or anger reminded him of what he was fighting for, and it made him happy still to help you through it.

He’d found a correlation, the stronger your emotions, the more he felt them, with little wisps of thoughts to match.

Long nights are spent wondering what you feel from him, whether his joy at experiencing the bond bleeds through, whether feeling his strength makes you feel safe. When you finally meet you’ll be able to talk to each other from across the galaxy. He could speak with you while fighting campaigns, not having to truly leave you - he was so lucky to have such a bond.

Fear. Fear, fear, fear, fear. 

You were deathly afraid, so afraid it had his own hearts pumping as if he were in the midst of death throes in a fierce battle and not relaxing in the forge. Your thoughts are no help, an indecipherable jumble of utter terror.

In his mind’s eye he sees the snapping of jaws, wild and demonic in nature, and then he doesn’t feel fear ever again in his long, long life.

Corvus Corax - XIX

(Shared tattoo/marking)

Long, dark tendrils, stretching all the way down his right arm and half his back in a dizzying pattern of feathers, swirls and concentric shapes. A soulmate tattoo, or so he’d been taught by the slaves of Lyceaus that raised him. His soulmate would have the other matching half.

Many long nights were spent envisioning the type of person you’d be: a painter, who would be the soft lover to his harsh edges, in another fantasy you’re a fearsome warrior, battling alongside him.

He always imagined in every scenario that they represented freedom, the freedom he’d achieve for everyone.

He never imagines he’d meet you like this.

You’re everything he ever wanted, a freedom fighter, a radical, rising up against the unjust, and you’re here with him, on Lyceaus. By some cruel twist of fate you’d split through his fingers, having never been found despite being on the same desolate mining moon.

You were also dead. Slaughtered. A casualty. You’d died for freedom and you’d died a slave.

Face down and unmoving on the cold metal floor, blood pooling beneath you and hair splayed out wildly around you from the odd angle of your fall. Your half of the tattoo is deliberately exposed on your back.

He wonders if you looked at it and dreamt of freedom too.

Try as he might, after the battle no one is able to identify you. Everyone who knew you is dead, records are lost or destroyed - you remain nameless.

Alpharius/Omegon - XX

(Name on each others wrist)

It was rare, but not unheard of, to have two names on your wrists.

Alpharius & Omegon.

They weren’t on opposite wrists like two names traditionally were, but instead together on your left with matching handwriting and flourishes. 

You don’t find them, however, they find you. 

Life is a whirlwind those first few weeks, folded into cargo boxes, moved through ships, passed hands at least a dozen times before finally arriving in your new ‘home’. 

It was easy at first, understanding the need for secrecy when they tentatively explained the situation to you. 

It got harder very fast. No more family, no more friends, this room was your life now, and they were your only point of contact with the world at large. It wasn’t that they didn’t love you, or you them, it was just difficult. 

Long hours away, severe isolation, all the secrets weighing heavy on your heart and head.

You wish you could remember what sunlight felt like.

Slowly, slowly, you stop responding to much stimulus at all. You don’t greet them at the door with zeal, you don’t respond when they ask questions, eyes blank.

Later, you wake up alone in a hospital. Spotty memory, no recollection of the planet you’re on, a mysteriously full bank account, house deed in your name, the feeling you should be remembering something important, and a missing left hand.

Bonus: The Emperor

(Shared injuries)

The sheer panic in the throne room the day that the first injury appeared on him from absolutely nowhere was completely unparalleled. Custodes were shouting orders, apothecaries were being summoned, the whole palace was on high alert for an invisible intruder of some sort.

Meanwhile, the Emperor himself was staring down at his freshly skinned knee with a sort of strange excitement not seen before in many a millenia. 

The hunt to find you is immediate, not only since you inadvertently pose a great threat to the Emperor and thus Imperium with your ability to inflict your own injuries onto him but because he wanted you - he’d only waited tens of thousands of years to meet the one destined to be his other half, the one worthy to the the soulmate of the Emperor of Mankind.

He never gets to meet you, but sometime in the 35,000 you are brought to him, alike in corpse-like nature. Despite this, you’ve been dressed up in exquisite finery, fit for your role.

The custodes climb the golden throne, gently nestling you onto his lap, carefully pulling a skeletal arm around to support you.

Thousands of years go by. 

[nightscythe]

primarchs and their unbalanced love

adapted this request slightly so it wasn't just a sentence and focused more on them. if this didn't meet what you wanted anon, please let me know!

pre-heresy, tw on curze/alpharius for yandere like behaviour // your relationship with the primarch would always be unbalanced because you're just a human. you reach your breaking point and end things.

lion: you’d noticed the looks, sat quietly as another questioned why you were there and the lion chose to glare rather than defend you, seeing it pointless to explain – it had been luther who told you to run far away and never look back, promising that staying within reach of the primarch would never end well for you. he’s stood upon the allure of the fortress, staring down at the people who praised him. loved him, even, seeing the primarch as a saviour to all they knew. though he was never blind to the criticism of the people when it came to him, especially when it’s voiced so clearly to him. he scans the crowd, slowly, taking every face in until he finds you; watching him already, expression numbed, eyes dull, the hint of your soul already faded. he recalls the last words you said to him as your hands clasped gently over his, the universe was not made for our two souls to be together. he’d grabbed your wrist, tried to stop you from walking away from him, but he never got the chance to tell you. then i will strip the universe bare until it allows us to be. instead you saw anger, rage, a vengeance you knew he was capable of, but he never allowed you to see before. his final words were a promise, leave now, before i remind you why the universe wouldn’t allow us to be together. this was his punishment, your eyes finding his whenever he left the four walls he knew you could never enter, a constant reminder of what he never had.

fulgrim: you’d ignored it at first, what some people were willing to do for the primarch, how they’d have killed for him, to be with him, or even just to hear his voice in person – and one person can only overhear so many discussions on how people plan to kill them before they decide a change is needed, even if it hurts more than anything. the seat at the head of his table felt shameful. all eyes on him, wanting, requiring more from him than he was willing to give. he hadn’t looked up from the embroidered and lace-trimmed placemat that his fingers played with in minutes, avoiding the conversation around him. there weren’t many things that could bring him to silence, let alone people. yet you had managed that. likewise, you’d managed to do the impossible and capture the heart of a man made to never have feelings. when he finally looks up from the placemat, eyes darker than before, the room falls to a sharp silence. the only person he can find the strength to look at is you. across the room from him, dressed in the colours he told you looked perfect, though every other part of you was concealed from him. your eyes never leave the floor, even as the silence continues. of course i’m afraid, you had told him when he approached you, cowering from his larger frame. the image was burned into his mind, torturing him each hour. i would protect you from everything, he reassured you, there is not a thing on this earth that could harm you whilst i still live. he can still feel the way your hand slipped out of his as you turned your back to him. from your father? you had asked, voice hollow, from yourself? fulgrim never answered. the room eventually starts to speak again as fulgrim looks back down to the placemat. only then do you dare to look back at him. 

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perty: it was never that you didn’t trust him, but you knew he would never believe that – you’d learnt of what he had done to those who failed him, asked him one too many questions and seen the side of him that everyone had feared but you hadn’t yet seen. he believed he’d ensured that you were erased from every record related to him. believed he’d never see your face again, never hear your voice, embrace your smile, or enjoy your laughter filling the halls. weeks had passed without any part of your presence, and he believed he needed it, yet every step he took his soul felt lonelier than before. he’d thought he’d heard your voice a few times, chased the sound down empty hallways to find nothing but the ghosts of his memories. he believed today was no different when he heard your call from one of the rooms; one which sounded so real it stopped him in his tracks. he waited, listened, wanted to hear more – a wish which was fulfilled within seconds and has him tracking down the source. he almost stumbles through the doorway where the sound is loudest, catching himself on the stone frame but still garnering your attention. you don’t speak, not even as the woman opposite to you bows and offers her apologies. but the longer your gaze is locked, the more his nostrils flare, the tighter his jaw tenses. leave, he tells you, coldly, lest i remind you how quickly i can have you removed for good. you only nod, slowly, stepping back from him quietly and dragging your eyes down to the ground. he waits, watches, hears your voice tell him how you felt unsure of your place within these walls. when you look up to him one last time, he feels the snarl at the back of his throat. if you did not feel safe then, why would you feel safe now? he questions. why would you trust me now? 

khan: you’d watched men die, seen how expendable life was with your own eyes, and seen how quickly he had moved past it, leaving only one thought on your mind – that you must have been just as expendable as everyone else he stood over. the hardest part of all was accepting it. he sat with a handful of his sons around, none daring to look at their primarch who had scarcely looked beyond the spot right in front of him for the past two days. all he did was think. about this, about him, about you. it could never go beyond that though, he never was able to find peace in his own thoughts nor in the conversation with others. but you had come on your own volition, hearing of the primarch’s unusual silence amongst other gossip from the crowds, and when he saw you in front of him, slowly coming to rest on your knees, it was the first time he found the right words to say out loud. you’re wrong about everything, he says, not giving you a moment to speak. you nod, once, though you do not speak. he fills the space between you with more necessary words. i would not make a promise so lightly if i did not know it could be fulfilled. but i assure you, with everything i could offer, that your life will never be in danger so long as i live. your silence is excruciating, the throbbing in his body getting quicker and quicker as he waits for your answer. but it never seems to come. but if you cannot trust me that i will make true on my promise, then i shall not ask anymore of you, but to remember how deeply i cared for you.  

leman: he had tried his best to keep you separate, despite the loyalty his sons offered and how deep their bond went – but when you’d started to understand why he was called the executioner, why his legion was known to be so deadly, and when you discovered everything he had been responsible in the name of his father, you realised that you would never have been spared. his body ached. he’d thrown himself into any situation he could, begged that the all father would bless him with something that could knock him out cold and give him some breathing room for just a few moments. every single one of his thoughts was about the same thing. doubt. of himself, of his capabilities, of anything he had ever considered a strength. each time raised his weapon and bared his teeth, your words took over his mind. you will never be enough. his mind falls silent to what you had actually told him. you do not have it in you to stand up to your loyalties over a mere human. you could not betray everything you know, everything you stand for, just because they disagree with me, or do not want me, or think i am unworthy. he didn’t want you to be right about it. and as he stood there, broke another man’s bones without even thinking, he realised he still couldn’t argue against you. the thump of a body hitting the ground forces him to tear his sight back to reality, focus shifting from the cheers around him, to the man laying before him, to your eyes at the back of the room, never looking away. you would never be unworthy, he’d told you before, a sentiment still felt, i wouldn’t care what anyone said about you, it is only me who gets to decide if you are worthy to be at my side. you’d smiled softly then, just as you are now. only until someone tells you i can’t be. 

dorn: you had gotten used to all his quirks, you’d grown to love it over time, and it was nothing in particular that had pushed you to your limit other than time – when you looked at him one day, you allowed yourself to wonder for too long what it might look like if he stopped loving you, and there was no space at his side for you. it took him longer than usual to process your words. far too long, in fact, because by the time he’d looked up to you, you were already walking away, your bow in his direction and a mumbled apology lost within his conscious thoughts. he watches you walk away from him, only taking a few steps towards you when you near the end of the long room, but freezing immediately when you turn back to him, only looking over your shoulder. you should know that i will always love you, you tell him, sigh leaving your lips as you turn to face the exiting doors once more. you take a step, slower than before, and that’s when he decides to finally speak. i will try harder, he promises, moving towards you again, whatever you need from me, say the word, i will do it. because i… he stops, both his words and his movements. you turn back to him again, this time fully, lips gapped and eyes clouded. his jaw tenses for just a moment as he finds the words, knowing already that they weren’t enough. i would do anything for you, to consolidate the love i have for you. won’t you let me have that chance? you shake your head slowly; you’ve already told him it was out of his control. won’t you at least let me try? he asks again. it wouldn’t have mattered, even if you did. not many things in the world made him feel powerless, other than you. 

curze: there was always whispers of what he was capable of, always a forgotten story of what he had done before, and you’d still fallen into his charm with open arms – realising soon that the real enemy within was the legion he had also grown to hate, but that didn’t mean you were able to leave . the room was cold, dark. everything he loved to have, especially seeing as you’re sat on the floor in the corner, wide eyes watching him with your knees pulled into your chest. he can’t help the way a grin creeps back onto his face as he approaches. did you miss me? he asks, gently, stopping only a foot or so away from you. he crouches down to your level, reaching out a hand to trace over your own. he sighs, content as you don’t pull away from him this time. i thought of you every moment. i wondered if you were thinking of me too. he leans forward, face closer to yours, hand reaching for your chin when you try to look away. i made a promise to you, my little dove. do you recall? he waits, though never expects an answer. not when your lips are quivering, body shaking. he only smiles, reaching around to drape his cloak over you as if it was the cold causing your reaction. i promised you that i would make this work. that you would never need to leave me, that you did not need to fear for anyone near me any longer. and where are we now? another silence falls between you. one enjoyed, revered. you’re with me, and you’re safe from any harm. he’d chosen to ignore himself in that equation, though. 

sanguinius: despite his sweetness, how he touched you as though you were the softest feather, you knew what followed behind him – when you became a target as well and realised that your life was in danger unless you were always at his side, you knew it had reached its limit. it never mattered that he’d commanded armies, that he’d survived impossible feats, that he was beloved by the imperium and treasured by all as the great angel that was impossibly perfect in all ways. something inside of him had broken, snapped clean in two as the weight of every emotion fell to him at once, overwhelming him beyond anything else he had felt. don’t walk away, he called, halting your steps with the tone of his voice alone. you turned, slowly, faced by his figure that approached you far quicker that you could ever run. is my love not enough for you? do you desire more? every part of me is yours already, yet you still choose to leave me? his voice shakes, words falling rather than being spoken. he drops to his knees before you, never reaching for you, yet begging with eyes that were bloodshot and shattered. i could protect you from anything this universe has to offer, he affirms to you, hands clasped together, i would stand before anything in existence that posed you harm, but that is not enough. he feels the corners of his eyes prick with a feeling unknown, and only then does he reach for your hand and bring it to his cheek, his own hand placed over your own. tell me what more i must do to prove to you that this isn’t a mistake. 

ferrus: his obsession with perfection had sat with you for far too long – you were human, weak, easily killed and willed away, so you knew that one day he’d turn you into something he considered stronger, better, even if he didn’t realise what he was doing. he’d found himself alone far more often since you’d gone. sometimes when he reached for tools on his bench, he expected to feel you instead, sometimes he’d hear the door open and look expectedly as if you were the one walking through the door. though it never was you; not your hand reaching for his when he was trying to do something else, not your cheerful greeting as you approached him. your missed presence was something he understood, but with each day that passed he only wanted to isolate himself more from others too. it all reminded him of you. especially those words that tormented him the most. i am just another weakness that will need correcting. he slams down his hammer harder than before, the sound running your voice straight out of his head. he could have told you that you weren’t a weakness. he could have denied it entirely, but he knew it would be a lie. others could perceive you as such, others would look upon the human at their primarch’s side and wonder why. instead, all he told you was that he wouldn’t correct you, not when he saw nothing for him to change. he let you go, let you walk out of the last space where you felt any safety around him, without telling you what he truly felt. you were already perfect, he speaks to no one, unable to find the strength to continue his work, i never wanted to change a thing about you. though he knew at the bottom of his heart that he may have needed to. 

angron: his mind fracturing wasn’t something you had no awareness of, and you believed that somewhere along the way you had been able to help – but the time he had killed another in front of you was the turning point, even if you claimed it was the whole legion. he had seen the way you always approached corners with caution, how you kept your voice quiet, how seeing you when doors were locked from the outside world was entirely different to having you stand amongst a crowd of people who claimed their support for him. it was his naivety or arrogance that led to ignorance each time, opting to let it pass without issue or never ask what caused it. not until you’d told him, quiet with him for the first time since he knew you, avoiding eye contact and hiding yourself when he drew near, that it was all too much for you. it could never happen, he tells you, pleading as he approaches you, i would never allow a soul here to touch you, to even look at you without welcome. he didn’t understand it fully still, how you believed such harm could come from those around him. or perhaps he did now, and again it was ignorance in the way. what is worse is that you did not come to me about this before, that you waited until the very end to speak a word of your worries and gave me no time to fix them. he sighs, still intent on changing your mind, ready to wage a war in your name if he had to. as he approaches you, reaches his hand towards your shoulder, he notices the way you flinch away. his brows furrow, eyes drifting to his hand before falling on you again. he didn’t understand, because he never realised the extent of it all. it is not just them, he speaks quieter than before, realisation a slow but heavy hit, you find reason to fear me, too.

rob: it wasn’t a quick realisation, but something that built with time; he was never committed, despite what he claimed to feel, and he never reciprocated past your hidden meetings away from the world he lived the rest of the day. he wasn’t mindful of how long had passed since he’d made his way outside to feel… something. he wasn’t sure what he needed, but staring at screens and seeing your reflection, sitting in thrones and wondering if you would approach him, it wasn’t helping. he remembered the last time you stood beside him, watching the stars quietly, you both enjoying company more than anything. but in a moment he wished to declare something forbidden in the eyes of many, you’d looked up to him with the most delicate of smiles and carried their views. this cannot continue, you’d whispered, softly, echoing the thoughts that had first crossed his mind, if i could make a wish for anything, it would be for this, for us, but… he’d reached for your hand before you could continue, noticed the way your eyes became glassy. let me make that wish come true, he’d offered, as sincere as he could be, it will not be easy, but i will make things as they need to be to ensure that this does not need to end. your privacy, your safety, it will be kept through every moment, i can ensure you as much. your smile began to fade as you answered, i don’t wish to be hidden, not at your detriment. he wishes he’d have tried harder, stopped you from walking away, or just confessed to you that this was more than just affection. it was never a detriment, not for someone i love. perhaps you’d hear his unspoken words when you looked at the stars, too. 

morty: he’d never changed, and you had loved it for him once, until you understood that mercy had never been something he wanted to offer, nor would learn to – and it reminded you that he was someone to be feared. he’s stood in a doorway watching you. hasn’t moved in minutes, maybe longer, never letting his eyes go further than just past where you’re sitting. if he moved, if he spoke, if he dared to even breathe every part of him would shatter in the reality that you had brought to him. no asking, no talking, just the simple words that he trusted you to never say to him, because you’d always promised him that he was enough. please try to understand, you say gently, eliciting nothing more than a scowl in response, i’m worried, i feel fear just treading the ground around you, afraid someone may take it the wrong way or see me in a different way to how you see me. he looks down from your eyes for merely a second, just long enough for everything inside to crumble. do you not think that’s selfish? he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t try to approach you. do you not think that you could have tried harder, just for me? his chest burns as you look away from him sorrowfully, but unlike him, you never look back. it never ceases to amaze me how similar all you humans are. he still doesn’t turn, even as his words turn sour. do you not think i worry too? i see your vulnerability, i consider it with every decision i make, every step i take, and you still wouldn’t believe that was enough. his laugh is bitter, a frail cover for the emptiness within, something only you had been able to fill, and seal away by a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep. go, but know that if i ever see you again, you will be treated no differently than everyone else, then you will truly know fear.  

magnus: you knew of his power, understood what he was capable of, never once feared for your life around him – but the whispers in your dreams telling you to move on only became louder, and so did the vision of your death at his hands. the only room he can sit in without memories beginning to haunt him is one you never touched. a small room that had been filled with old books and relics, now cleared so he could sit inside and feel freedom for five minutes of the day. your absence caused him more pain that he could admit to, let alone handle, but he had forced himself to leave you to the peace you wanted in the hopes that maybe you’d understand what it was like without him. his allocated five minutes of freedom are over before he hopes and he’s forced back into the emptiness that the rest of tizca brought him. as he walks the halls, he replays fragments of your words to him. i do trust you, beyond anything, but this is far bigger than just you or i. he’d contemplated the consequences of giving everything up. you could not prevent fate, even if you wished to. but he would always try. love was never meant to exist between us. those words stop him completely. his hands are curled into fists at his side, breathing deepening to the point where he can barely feel reality around him. he doesn’t have time to realise what’s changed, not until he can feel you with him, presence alluring as he feels your discontent, your sadness, filling every crack of time and space between you both. he’s not there, not physically, but he sees you turn to him as though you know he’s there. let me try to make it work between us, he asks, quietly, never expecting a return. it never could work, you answer, we were not made for each other. 

horus: of course there was talks about it, you’d heard of the intention to make him warmaster the second it had reached prying ears – and it was in that moment, you realised you could never stay with him. the feeling didn’t sit right with him, not when he knew you were right there yet entirely untouchable to him. he could bring planets to heel, he could crusade in the name of his father, but he couldn’t convince you that love was enough. it had sat on his mind for days as he tried to come up with a speech to change your mind, have you fall to your knees and accept him like he always wanted. the speech never came, the opportunity to approach you never manifested, not until he saw you speaking with a face he didn’t recognise within the grand hall one evening. weeks of stewed emotions and feelings seem to hit him at once as he approached you, ending your conversation as another person bowed to him. i don’t know how to change things, he tells you, honestly, eyes never leaving your own despite how they dart around the room. if i couldn’t convince you then, i won’t be able to convince you now. but that doesn’t change how deeply my love burns for you. he doesn’t care if others heard, but he knows you do. so tell me how i can make this work. what do you need from me?  you can’t answer him immediately, swallowing hard and breaths quick. you open your lips just a little, then shut them once more, looking down to the ground. he knows your answer; you’ve told him before. i need you to not be you.  

lorgar: you had been warned by many, knowing the threat you posed to their regime, knowing that you had taken the primarch’s attention away from what should truly matter – and revenge was promised. he believed this was his punishment. he had let his devotion slip and focused his attentions elsewhere, and his reward was replaced with a love that could never be returned. he kneels at an altar as his eyes fall shut. immediately he’s tormented by the ghost of your hands on his skin, pressing over his shoulder, skimming his chest; or your lips pressed softly against his neck. then he hears the echoes of a whisper, what was left of your presence in his world. i could never love another as much as i love you. his lips curl at each word. he’d replay it a thousand times over and over, never to be sick of the sound. but then it falls eerily silent, his mind pushed to another time he had tried so hard to hide. you cannot love me, you’d told him, words cutting through any remainer of the faith he held, not in the way that i love you, not in the way that anyone could love you. he opens his eyes, darkness of the room around him a greeting he wished never came. but your words don’t stop. your life has never been decided by you. he can feel how you sat in his lap and whispered it to him. i was never to be part of your life. i’ve become a variable that they cannot control. if i stay… you had never finished, but he knew. he’d watched you walk away, he’d reached out his hand to stop you but never called. was it better this way? he asks, call to the void ignored by all around him. do you truly believe love is only dictated to me? his world may have been controlled by others, but what he felt for you. 

vulkan: an offhanded comment was made, not by the astartes, not even by anyone close to the primarch, but a serf who was yet to know their place – and though it should mean nothing, the mention of your humanity is a harsh reminder of how separate your worlds were. the silence looming through the room was unnatural. if anyone had entered his private chamber, they’d have known he was mourning; not someone lost, but something gone. quietude was a welcomed guest around him for some time, the only break offered being a forced schedule or something he wished to not attend. but he knew his duties were not to be missed. do not think for a second i doubted you, he recalled you telling him, stood no more than a few feet from where he now sat. your love is true and i know that, but i also know that you are more than i could ever be. he hated how all he did was listen. how he agreed; how he let you walk away from him with little more than a kiss to the back of his hand and a request of a promise for him to try to understand. he did, somewhere beyond the depths of his emotions, but he also knew that to him, you were everything. you would never see that though. you would never have believed him when he told you that he would make sure your authority matched his, that no one would ever stand up to you or question your place. in every other lifetime we’d have found each other, he’d spoken quietly the last time he felt your warmth, i’d have given all of those away to have a chance to be with you in this one. 

corvus: you’d first noticed the way his attention seemed to always divert to you, but the moment you watched him make a mistake because of you, it was obvious your time at his side was limited. at first he was worried you’d be able to feel his presence. he wondered whether you’d see him in the corner of your eyes, hear his footsteps you knew so well, understand that your shadow wasn’t the only thing that had been following you this whole time. he shouldn’t be here, he should have given you the space you wanted and left you to what you had chosen, but the temptation was far too high for him to ignore it. whether you were doing the simplest tasks or something he chose to pay no attention to, he wanted to see it. he wanted you. and he truly thought he had gotten away with it, that his cover in the darkness of night and shadows was enough to keep him hidden away, prevent you from noticing the fear that lurked beyond. but as he turned into the alley where you had walked only moments ago, it was your smaller frame that stopped him with a hand held up to his chest. this only proves my point, you say to him, glare harsher than he expected, this is what i was afraid of. he only reaches for your hand to take it off him, chest already filled with anticipation and regret. i promised you your safety, he tries to tell you, his excuse meaningless. it was never that which you cared about. you were caught off-guard by a mere human in pursuit of me. the longer i’m around, the more of a danger you are to yourself. he never said you were wrong. he just didn’t want to admit you were right. 

alpharius: you’d found the collection of information that the alpha legion had on you, and believed there was no way you could ever live your normal life again – but you hadn’t stopped to consider if it really was the legion you were at risk of. watches you closely, head tilted slightly to the side. your happiness has faded, he can see it in the way you carry yourself so rigidly, tensing whenever anyone comes near. he sees the way your eyes scan the room like you’re waiting for something to surprise you; someone to be there that you were trying to desperately to avoid. he feels the smile falling onto his lips as he begins to approach, cautiously, truly believing that his surprise would be welcomed. as the room fell silent, you froze, and the grin that manifested on his lips only grew. are you okay, my love? he asks, hand on your back, tensed under his touch. you didn’t look to him, but he could feel all your attention on him already. i must applaud you on how convincing this all was. i did truly think that you had left. no one would dare question him, no matter how much fear was in your eyes. when you told me you were leaving, i’ll admit i was worried. but that i remembered that everything you said to me, how you were worried of what my father would do, or what my legion may say, or what my brothers might have done to you… it was all wrong. he reaches for your cheek, turning you to face him. his thumb ghosts your skin. he hums gently as he breathes in. it was an interesting way to test me, i will give you that much. perhaps not even a test of my loyalty, but this connection between us. i just wonder, my love, when did you realise that the only person you needed to fear was me?

i am getting on top of requests i promise, i've been very distracted with both catching pokemon and the nameless king, whose love i have rediscovered through nightreign, but the corvus fic is almost done ^^

[thatnightlamp]

Hello ! I'm in love with you Primarchs NSFW Alphabet. Could I ask for Magnus, or Alpharius & Omegon please ?

ALPHARIUS&OMEGON NSFW ALPHABET

Tags: @incrediblethirst, @iluminatka16, @absynthe-mind

A = Aftercare Unnervingly efficient. One of them, whoever finished last will clean you up, soothe you, and tuck you in. The other? Likely watching from the shadows, silent, present. Their aftercare is gentle but clinical. Precise. Yet somehow, when they stroke your hair, you feel like the most cherished asset in the galaxy.

B = Body part Their tongues. Both identical, both lethal, whether used for interrogation or tracing lines down your thighs. They know how to speak, how to lick, how to manipulate.

C = Cum Slick, hot, and plentiful. They're trained not to waste a drop. Inside you, on your skin, over your mouth, they finish deliberately. Sometimes together. Sometimes one waits, watching the other fill you before claiming the same place, still warm and wet with his twin’s seed.

D = Dirty secret They’ve switched places mid-fuck. You didn’t notice. One slipped out, the other slipped in, and the only sign was a shift in angle, a breath you couldn’t place. They talk about it afterward, wondering how long they can keep fooling you. Sometimes, you know and let them.

E = Experience Unnatural. Encyclopedic. They know techniques from every culture, every era. But sex with them isn’t about practice, it’s about observation. They watch you. Every gasp is logged. Every clench filed away. You’ve never felt more studied or more desired.

F = Favorite position You between them. One beneath, one behind. Their hands overlap across your body. One holds your hips, the other your face. Their voices are low, synchronized: “Don’t move. Let us have you.”

G = Goofy They’re not humorous during sex, they’re terrifyingly quiet. Smirks, slight huffs of breath, shared glances. They’ll tease you emotionally, make cryptic comments, ask things like “Which one am I?” while fucking you hard enough to shatter thought.

H = Hair They keep everything well-groomed, facial hair, body hair, pubes. You’ll never find a hair out of place. It’s uncanny, how alike they are even down there. Same texture, same scent. You’ve touched one’s abs before and been sure it was the other’s.

I = Intimacy Detached, yet consuming. They don’t romance you. They study you, invade you, map your body with hands that seem to already know your softest spot. But every now and then, when one cradles your face and says your name like a vow, it feels real enough to hurt.

J = Jack off Alone? Rarely. Together? Often. They’ve watched each other stroke off while imagining you between them. Once, they came in perfect sync—hands fisting their cocks while murmuring your name at the exact same moment. They talk strategy afterward. What you’d say. How you’d look on your knees.

K = Kink

Mirroring. They love doing the same thing at once. One on each nipple, one at your throat while the other licks between your legs. You’re always the center of a ritual they never explain.

Identity play. “Who am I?” They’ll ask. They’ll switch mid-session. They’ll whisper different names. And they dare you to guess wrong.

Overstimulation. If you can’t come anymore, they keep going. Until you’re sobbing, begging, gasping.

Double penetration. Whether it’s mouth and cunt, ass and fingers, cock and toy, you will be filled. By them. Completely.

L = Location Anywhere that feels secure. Sealed rooms, hidden chambers, blacked-out transports. They’ve fucked you on a cloaked ship during warp travel, in a bunker under Terra, in a mirrored room where your own reflection begged alongside you.

M = Motivation Control. Precision. The intimacy of power. But also the thrill of you knowing them, and not knowing them. Your gasps, your vulnerability, your surrender to uncertainty, that’s what turns them on.

N = No They don’t tolerate disrespect, mocking, or ridicule. If you try to play games that undermine their control, disobedience for ego’s sake, they’ll leave you shaking and unsatisfied. They punish, but not cruelly. They expect you to learn.

O = Oral Receiving. They guide your head, stroke your jaw, praise you. If you use your hands too much, they’ll gently pin them aside. They want your mouth, not your fingers.

P = Pace Unpredictable. Sometimes slow and reverent, just one of them, kissing down your chest. Other times they take you together, hard and fast and overwhelming. They pace themselves like hunters with prey that already surrendered.

Q = Quickie If time allows, yes. They’re efficient. One distracts the world, the other takes you behind a wall. You’ll come in minutes, shivering, body marked. They never say which one it was. You’re left panting, wondering.

R = Risk High. They thrive on the edge of taboo. Twin mind games. Experimental bondage. Sensory deprivation. Pleasure algorithms. They won’t hurt you, but they’ll absolutely make you question your reality, and who’s inside you at any moment.

S = Stamina Terrifying. Between the two of them, they can go for hours. One starts. The other finishes. Then they switch. And again. They never tire. You’ll be begging for mercy long before either of them breaks a sweat.

T = Toys Plenty, designed by Omegon, tested by Alpharius. Sleek, quiet, remote-controlled. Some only respond to their fingerprints. They’ll slide something into you in the morning and turn it on at dinner. One speaks calmly while the other watches you writhe.

U = Unfair Extremely. They edge you for hours. One brings you close while the other pulls away. They whisper conflicting instructions. “Touch yourself.” “No, hands behind your back.” You don’t get to cum until you’re in tears.

V = Volume Quiet. Too quiet. One breathes against your throat, the other moans low into your chest. The silence makes your own sounds unbearable, every gasp, whimper, or plea echoes like an offering. They drink in your voice like water in the desert.

W = Wild card They once fucked you in your own bed while disguised as you. One fucked “you” from behind while the other whispered praises from the front. You didn’t realize until later, there were two of your voices, but only one of you.

X = X-ray Identical. Long, thick, slightly curved upwards. Cool to the touch at first, but they heat up fast. Their cocks are designed for precision pleasure, slippery, veiny, flushed a faint pink. Sometimes they swap places just to confuse your body’s muscle memory.

Y = Yearning Constant. But they hide it behind blank faces, gloved fingers, and veiled words. Their desire is a need to consume. They don’t just want to fuck you, they want to become the only thing you ever crave.

Z = Zzz They never fall asleep beside you. But you always wake to find one watching. Sometimes it’s Alpharius, stroking your hip. Sometimes it’s Omegon, silent in the shadows. They never sleep when you do. One always keeps watch.

[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?"

[purplebutwarhammer]

I had an idea for a possible title for the Alpha Legions Legion Mother

The Third Head

- Typically a hydra is depicted with three heads, two of these are the Primarchs but who’s the third? The Legion Mother (Officially she’s married to Alpharius and is only in romantic love with one probably, don’t ask me which one)

- Obviously she isn’t disguising herself as Alpharius but does have a team of highly trained and highly loyal serfs/attendants that can take her place if she has other duties to attend to and to throw off assassins (Think Padme Amidala and her handmaidens)

- This becomes particularly important during the heresy

- Because of this legionnaires who are in the know will use the term ‘The Third Head’ when speaking about her specifically, as Lady Alpharius (Lady Omegon? I’m not sure on the surname thing) could be one of about five people at any given moment.

- It’s not often they need to single her out but some things are for and about mother only

- It’s also a sign of respect as it put her on level with her husband, in fact the twins probably originated the nickname as a fond way of marking themselves as a team. They use it as an affectionate nickname “Our third head, how I’ve missed you”

- She mostly takes care of the people facing parts of the whole spying and sneaking business, kind of acting as an alibi and gathering info a Primarch can’t, hence she’s the hydras third head.

[olivatheoliver]

It's been a little slow lately...Zzzヘ(_ _ヘ)

I don't know why I cant reply ur comments sorry

[diabolicalevil]

Which Primarchs would beg during a break up?

inspired by @ladyoflucky 's post thank youu for letting me do this

https://www.tumblr.com/ladyoflucky/787103199830081536?source=share

Lion El'johnson: highly unlikely. he would keep up an arrogant front to the bitter end of the break up. but in private he is a disaster, especially stuck on anger and depression of the stages of grief. in the 6 months he'll magically start appearing around you again

Fulgrim: oh my god, he's begging, he's crying. it's embarrassing. bar, I don't know, a war council infront of the emperor there is no place he wouldn't get on his knees and proclaim his love. he will stop at nothing to get his lover back

Perturabo: absolutely not. very stone faced the whole time but as soon as you leave he is flipping tables and destroying anything he made for you. very petulant man!

Jaghatai Khan: one of the more normal ones. by that I mean no, but he would ask why and ask you to stay. ultimately he is accepting of you moving on and he will too

Leman Russ: no, he's also too proud and quite rude during the break up. extremely torn up over it though, cause let's be honest he probably did something that warranted this. within time he'll calm down and maybe try to re-enter your life. if this is successful you'll get the full "baby baby please take me back baby baby please" (space wolves as back up singers included!)

Rogal Dorn: kind of paralysed the entire break up but obviously distraught. mere hours later after realising that by "over" you mean over he's knocking on your door and tripping over himself to make amends. he's expressive as a piece of paper but he folds like one too

Konrad Curze: You Will Not Be Breaking Up With Him. Sit Back Down.

Sanguinius: yeah,,, somehow more embarrassing than fulgrim. he looks like the world is crashing down on him. not many on this list would truly get on their knees and cry and grovel but he would and he'd mean every word of it

Ferrus Manus: no but he's hanging on by a thread internally. he immediately goes to self loathing and while he does understand and accept your answer every bone in his body is telling him to start begging for forgiveness

Angron: no :( he's sad about it too. he thinks this was inevitable and once the initial anger subsidies the misery is all consuming. but he probably couldn't bring himself to face you again

Roboute Guilliman: hes being very sensible about it in the moment., but perhaps a few days later he sees something that reminds me of you and it punches him in the dick SO hard. immediately launches a campaign to win you back so intense it might as well be begging

Mortarion: no, probably not. like angron hates himself and thinks this would have always happened but his anger manifests outwardly. days later he understands he blew it for good resigns himself to the lonely life he imagined before you

Magnus: yeah, I think so. not much begging in the moment but if that fails, he'll start doing a little bit of dream invasion privacy. pleading with you to take him back in your dream and if that too fails, he would consider altering your mind to a more favourable opinion of him

Horus Lupercal: yes but not in a screaming crying kinda way. he's on his knees but only to meet your eyes and speak to you on your level. waxing poetics about how you're the only respite from his never ending list of expectations and how every moment has brought him nothing but peace. asks for one final chance to make it right

Lorgar Aurelian: oh my god. oh my God. he's not just on his knees his head is on the floor, he would kiss your feet if not for the fact he wouldn't deign touch the divine without permission. his begging starts getting jumbled with scripture as he starts to believe this is divine punishment

Vulkan: if you're breaking up with him something out of both of your control has gone terribly wrong. from the bottom of his heart understands but he can't help but kneel infront of you and ask to embrace one last time if nothing else

Corvus Corax: no, but he understands and perhaps a part of him expected it. you're far too different to have stayed together long. he still vows to never let harm come to you

Alpharius/Omegon: another firm you are not breaking up with them. however if you did somehow get such a silly idea nothing is off the table to make you stay. if it's begging you want, then they beg. if all else fails diva ur going in the dungeonn

sorry if this is a bit dramatic but im truly of the opinion that astartes and primarchs experience emotion and sensations far more intensely than humans do. don't got shit to back it up but that's my opinion

[druidwolf21]

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

AAHHH THANK YOU!! 🥺

You wanna know how they cuddle do ya?

We'll hopefully you like this!

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

Did I want to make this whole thing fluffy

ABSO FRIGGIN LUTLEY

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

Cuddles with the primarchs

Lion El'johnson.

"Come here"

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

"Yes, my lord?"

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

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

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

"Of course, my Lion~"

Fulgrim

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

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

"Fulgrim stop we need to get ready"

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

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

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

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

Perturabo

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I not enough for you?"

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

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

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

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

"If you ever do it again-"

Perturabo trailed off, squeezing you slightly as he spoke.

"I know. I know"

Jaghatai Khan

"It's freezing out here!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come here"

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

"Better?"

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

"Oh yeh, much better"

Leman Russ

"Down! Get down!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm very quickly learning that"

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

"Alright enough, off"

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

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

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

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

Russ grunted, pulling you toward him.

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

He opened one icey blue eye and grinned.

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

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

"Fine. Five more minutes"

Rogal Dorn.

"Rogal"

"...."

"Rogal"

"....."

"Roooogaaaaaallllll"

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

"Yes?"

"I'm bored"

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

"You interrupted me to tell me you are bored"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey" he whispered, smiling slightly.

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

Konrad Curze.

"You're so small."

"Compared to you I am"

"And soft"

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

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

"Yes"

"Yeh that's one of those things"

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

"But you are. You are soft."

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

"You are small and warm and soft"

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

"Soft and warm and so so fragile"

Sanguinius

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

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

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

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

"Sanguinius"

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

"Sit. Please?"

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

"Lay back"

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

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

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

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

"Indeed"

"It's over now"

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

"yes. It's over now"

Ferrus manus

"What is this?"

"Not something you should be touching"

"what about this?"

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

"It is not for you"

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

"Ferrus'"

Silver eyes flicked to you before returning to the tools.

"Ferrus!"

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

"What"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This lens allows for increased optical resolution when sniping"

"and what's that?"

He scoffed, lips twitching against your throat.

"That's a screw driver"

"Oh"

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

"Don't worry, you'll learn"

Angron

"Deep breath"

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

"It's ok, I'm here"

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

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

"No it's ok"

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

"Im here, I've got you"

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

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

"But you won't"

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

"But I can hold you"

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

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

Roboute guilliman

"Roboute?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Is there sugar in this?"

You shrugged. "you need your energy"

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

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

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

"Come here"

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

"what are you-"

"Shhh"

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

"Better?"

"Better"

Mortarion

"You should see this mortarion!"

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

"I've seen it"

"No really, it's beautiful!"

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

"Look! Isn't it amazing!"

You leaned over further, pointing out through the glass.

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

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

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

Creeeaaakk SNAP

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

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

"What did I tell you?"

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

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

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

"Thank you"

Magnus

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

"Magnus?"

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

"Yes? What's wrong?"

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

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

"Come here, little one"

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

"What are you reading?"

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

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

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

Horus lupercal

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

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

"Horus! I missed you!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Indeed. All is well"

Lorgar aurelian

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

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

"Yes, I'm here lorgar"

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

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

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

"Yes, embrace me"

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

Vulkan

"You are welding that incorrectly"

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

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

"That's easy for you to say!"

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

"Take a breath"

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

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

"I know"

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

"got it?"

"Got it"

Corvus Corax

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

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

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

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

"I'm here now"

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

"Oh, am I dreaming?" You yawned.

"Yes, just a dream"

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

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

Alpharius/Omegon

"you know how I can tell you apart?"

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

"Oh really?"

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

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

"Hold me"

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

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

After a moment, you stepped back and pointed

"You're Alpharius"

Pointing to the second twin.

"And you're Omegon"

Alpharius laughed, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

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

You tapped your lip in fake thought.

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

You giggled as they stared at you dumbfounded.

"Probably best you just keep hugging me yeh?"

Tags:Tags: @beckyninja @moodymisty @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lemon-russ @astrohymn @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @incrediblethirst @kit-williams @iluminatka16 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @bookandyarndragon @thisuserislilsilly @vithralith @absynthe-mind @saintsylestine

[baldieboi]

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

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

Lion El’Jonson

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

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

Fulgrim

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

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

Perturabo

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

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

Jaghatai Khan

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

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

Leman Russ

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

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

Rogal Dorn

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

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

Konrad Curze

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

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

Sanguinius

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

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

Ferrus Manus

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

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

Angron

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

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

Roboute Guilliman

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

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

Mortarion

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

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

Magnus the Red

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

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

Horus Lupercal

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

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

Lorgar Aurelian

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

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

Vulkan

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

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

Corvus Corax

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

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

Alpharius/Omegon

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

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

[absynthe-mind]

Primarchs Playing Minecraft (with you)

This is so stupid but the brain worms demanded it. Almost did primarchs playing stardew valley but figured minecraft had a better variety to play with.

Taglist: @druidwolf21 , @incrediblethirst , @bookandyarndragonwritesdark

Lion El’Jonson - I

Doesn’t get the point at all but will play with you if you wear him down enough. Refuses to do anything frivolous, you’ll have a basic hut for a house - but you’ll have the basics down very well. Farm? Check. Ore? Check. Armour? Check. He treats the game as something to beat rather than enjoy playing, will refuse to play any further after beating the enderdragon. Which will be done as soon as he is adequately prepared. 

Fulgrim - III

He dislikes playing survival with you unless it’s to show off his combat skills for you, mostly enjoys creative mode where he has ultimate control. Pixel art has been perfected to a science, using layers and command blocks to create things you never thought possible. Also creates towns and cities with you in a theme, and will even spend an unreasonable amount of time recreating his ship. Please compliment his builds, point out little details and agree with how life like everything looks - he needs it.

Perturabo - IV

Actually enjoys the game but refuses to admit it. He gets to focus on architecture and relax somewhat, there’s no real pressure, no expectations. The music is actually somewhat calming to him too so you might actually get to have some fun bonding time with him. You could convince him to play semi-regularly if you praise his building work, but he will throw a hissy fit and not play for ages if he dies at all.

Jaghatai Khan - V

He isn’t massively convinced to sit still in front of a screen until you tell him there’s horse taming in game. He’s logged in before you can blink and running around looking for a plains biome. Spends all his time breeding horses to get the fastest and highest jumps, and his sidequests include getting a hold of saddles, name tags, horse armour and building stables. He ends up liking the game in general and will actually play with you too… once he has his horsey.

Leman Russ - VI

He has very little patience for the finer mechanics, but like Khan you can lure him in with the wolf taming. Ends up with a small army of dogs that he dyes the collars his legion colours and uses them to kill witches. Would have stopped playing but a skeleton killed him and now he’s going to get vengeance. Ended up getting slightly addicted to pve and pvp - watch out, you aren’t safe.

Rogal Dorn - VII

His favourite thing is to fortify villages against pillager raids, making iron golem farms, snow golem turrets, the works. Somehow knows random obscure knowledge that helps you both out. He ends up getting way, way too into it, please nobody tell him about mods. You die once and he insists you stay in the base until he has a full set of enchanted netherite armour and tools for you, and even then he gets antsy if you do anything remotely dangerous like mining.

Konrad Curze - VIII

He’s very unsure what he’s supposed to be doing, ends up mostly just following you and you have to give him food and tools for him to survive. That’s until a villager gets in his way and he ends up accidentally agro-ing the iron golem, then it's war. Tries to fight it with his bare hands and fails, makes you hand over all your gear and then dies repeatedly before finally killing it. He makes a new one for the village afterwards - and when you ask why he did all that he just says “it should have known.” Predictably likes the bats.

Sanguinius - IX

Very supportive, just happy to be playing with you to be honest. We’re building a base? Great, what materials should I collect? Oh, you want to kill the enderdragon? Sure, what do we need to do? He’s very happy to sit and let you explain, and picks everything up quickly. You come back from a day in the mines and he’s gone collecting flowers for you to decorate with. Puts his minecraft bed next to yours kinda guy, you end up with a cute house filled with dogs, cats and parrots.

Ferrus Manus - X

Redstone? Redstone. Spends a day reading the code and then starts building the most elaborate farms you’ve ever seen. Iron Golems everywhere both want to be him and want him dead. Iron within, Iron without. You go to sleep and the next morning your little starter cottage has been transformed into a fortress that could withstand tb2t. He doesn’t care for your opinions on this at all. 

Angron - XII

Getting this man to play minecraft is a miracle that would get you made into a saint if you weren’t already just for dealing with this man on a day to day basis. All he does is fight, doesn’t matter to him if he dies or what mob his opponent is, friendly, passive or aggressive. Actually doesn’t try to fight you, and gives you vague grunts of happiness if you give him food, armour or weapons.

Roboute Guilliman - XIII

You’d expect him to be the min-maxer, literally spreadsheeting out every resource, organising chests and planning out the whole server but surprisingly he’s the exact opposite. Taking any time away from his utterly hectic real-life schedule to play a game like minecraft with you is going to be a relaxing experience for him. Chill music, mostly just vibing in the overworld, barely mines at all. Surprisingly likes parkour since it's engaging but pretty mindless overall. Just enjoys talking to you while playing to be honest.

Mortarion - XIV

Likes exploring all the different biomes and seeing all the different mobs, especially the different bunnies and axolotls that spawn in different colours. He seems so happy just relaxing and exploring meaninglessly for once. Ends up roping you into helping him make a zoo, have fun transporting all those mobs across the world in boats and minecarts. You feel too bad not to help though, and you both end up having a fun time together.

Magnus the Red - XV

Unexpectedly a fishing enthusiast, likes the chance for rare and random loot, especially enchanted books. Also enjoys trying to find all the potion effects, refuses to look up recipes so he spends hours trying every ingredient in the game. He gets wayyyy too into the lore too. What’s up with the villagers? The ruined portals? He pesters you with questions you can’t answer and he goes a little insane trying to figure it all out. All in all at least he’s happy to explore every aspect of the game with you.

Horus Lupercal - XVI

Secretly thinks the game is a bit stupid, but he’s whipped for you and likes seeing you happy so he sucks it up and just helps you with whatever you’re doing. Give him armour and weapons first and he’ll be happy enough playing protector. In fact, give him a challenge and don’t wear armour so he has to actually work to be your protector and he won’t dislike it so much. Tries to use the game as a way to prove he can provide for you.

Lorgar Aurelian - XVII

Struggles a lot to get used to the controls, he ends up moving around very strangely because of it. Has a good time in spite of it, and thanks you profusely over and over again when you save him because he’s struggling. Ends up building a little temple once he gets the hang of it, is very happy with himself. He considers using the server to hold sermons since it removes the issue of in person meetings for his legion but ultimately decides against it.

Vulkan - XVIII

Very excited to spend time doing something you enjoy, and he loves going into the caves the most. Mining for ore, battling mobs, smelting and crafting - that’s his home turf! Thinks it's a great bonding game for everyone, will invite his sons to play with you too, and you end up with a full and friendly server where everyone helps each other out. Likes the nether a lot too, especially since the server gets so big that a nether highway needs to be built and it provides new, fiery challenges for him.

Corvus Corax - XIX

Get this man an elytra right NOW! Seriously though, he’s the biggest movement enjoyer, happiest with an elytra and plenty of rockets. Build him a little elytra course in the air and he’ll be a happy little crow. Comes back from his elytra adventures with parrots and little gifts for you that he finds in jungle temples and other structures. Thank him for them and he’ll bring back even more treasures for you. 

Alpharius/Omegon - XX

Logs on to the server and you never see them again. Occasionally, the most obscure achievements will pop up in chat and you’ll double take at what they’re doing. You think you see one of them when you’re raiding a village for loot, but when you get closer no one is there… Sometimes random items that aren’t yours show up in your chests, but more often does your stuff go missing. Especially enderpearls. 

Bonus: The Emperor

The OG gamer, he’s fossil aged and played before. MLG bucket clutches, ladder clutches, pvp god, has a seemingly endless supply of golden apples from somewhere. Wears golden armour because it looks cooler and he’s so good he doesn’t need anything better. Orders the custodes to log on and farm materials for him to use, though he lets you choose the build even if he designs it. Micro or mega-build, doesn’t matter what you settle on you end up with a masterpiece. (He dies once to a baby zombie, then nukes the chunk and mind-wipes the memory from everyone logged on)

[nightscythe]

xlvii. parallax

→ alpharius x saphis [oc, she/her]  → 4.7k, 18+ but no sexual scenes, tw; yandere, kidnap, mental torture, pregnancy, obsession. you know. alpha legion things → unknown point in time (wink), alpharius is obsessed with a woman and his brother hates her for it basically

“I love you,” he tells her. She hears it again, and again, whispered into her like a spell that would stop her from leaving him. She knows they have an audience, yet she doesn’t care. “Please, Saphis.”

“She is a weakness,” the other says from behind. He still doesn’t move. She refuses to look at him. Alpharius’ fingers dig into her skin with every word. “Let her go.”

He looks up to her, eyes glassy, skin red. As she places her hand over his cheek, brushing away a tear, he leans into her touch. “I didn’t want this.”

“What is your plan, brother?” the other asks. Brother. Saphis’ heart beats faster than ever. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise you,” Alpharius tells her. 

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Midnight had passed. 1am. 2am. It must have been close to the next hour now. 

Saphis hadn’t found sleep. She’d watched the rain on the glass since he’d said goodnight, turned to his side, and slept peacefully without another word or touch. Another drop slides down the window, another crack of thunder that’s quieter than anticipated. 

She was thinking. 

A silent hum buzzes around the room, the faint glow of the strip lights that lined the ceiling dimming as though it followed his heartbeat. No other noise. 

She her head away from the glass, attention turning to the man beside her. The warm pillow beneath her head agitated her to no end, but she’d easily overlooked it as her eyes looked over him, scanning his entire being for something, anything, that was wrong. 

Last night he faced her, mumbling to himself as he drifted to sleep. He’d reached for her whilst he still has some semblance of consciousness in his system, holding her colder and far less tired body against his. He’d kissed her softly on her cheek, then lingered on her lips. But tonight?

He’d faced the other way. He’d said goodnight and spared her the briefest peck to the corner of his lips. He’d not reached for her or wanted to feel her beside him at all. 

She knew it long before this night, but she’d only realised it now. 

Her hands push her up gently. She can’t move too quickly, he’d feel it. Any training she had left from her days holding a weapon and hiding her identity come into place there and then. The smoothest of movements. The quietest of actions. Just so she can peer over him, get a good sight of his arm. 

She wasn’t sure when she started counting. Months, maybe a year ago. Her endless nights of insomnia drove her to try something which may just make her tired – and at some point she stopped counting the groves in the ceiling and started counting his scars instead. 

Never touching him, she begins her search. Details every scar she can see on his body. Labels them against what she knew in her head. She felt crazy. Like one of those girls obsessed with their lovers, like she felt he had something to hide. She did. Every night it felt worse, and now the bubble was about to burst. 

She stops by his elbow. His arm is bent, but it usually was. A centimetre below the curve, on his lower left arm, there should be a scar exactly an inch long. Beneath, two centimetres down, there was a tiny, pale-brown freckle. She studied it. She had the image burned into her head. 

She’d mapped it a hundred times in her mind. 

On him? A scar below the curve of his elbow on his lower left arm with a tiny pale-brown freckle beneath it. 0.9 inches long. 1.8cm below. 

It wasn’t him. 

She’s crazy, right?

No. She knows. She had seared everything into her head exactly. She can’t be wrong. She wouldn’t let herself be wrong. Not about this. 

She wants to scream. She lays back down against the pillow, facing the ceiling, deafened by the sound of someone walking past in the hallway outside. She doesn’t look to the door, she doesn’t dare move. Her heart races. Her mind races. 

Everything meant more now. The way he touched her. The way he spoke with her. The way he watched her. Things were missing. He was missing. His love wasn’t there. 

He was playful, teasing even, smirking at her with a promise of his love. A hand that lingers on her lower back, a whisper in her ear that made her heart race with possibilities. It was that which started all this. He always, always touched her neck when he walked past. It was instinct. A hand on her shoulder, his fingertips brushing the curve of his neck with a silent reminder of his feelings. A slight possessiveness. A claim.

Then he didn’t. Just one time, when he would always do it. She overanalysed. The touches were wrong. Too impersonal. Too stiff. Like a role being played without any care for the meaning. 

And she was afraid. 

The next time she saw him, he did it like usual. It wouldn’t matter. The seeds of doubt were sown. 

But now she was angry. 

Livid. 

She knew his duty. She knew what it meant when he confessed to her how he truly felt and instead of running she leant into him and allowed him to pursue her further. She knew what a primarch was, what it meant to her, how it would work going forward. She knew her friends thought she was crazy when she said I’m not sure, I think Alpharius is the most attractive, in the mysterious, strange kind of way. 

She turns back to him, eyes narrowed. He would send one of his sons to play his part? 

To send some nameless astartes to touch her, to pretend to love her?

It was insulting. It was cold and cruel. 

She moves silently across the bed, careful not to disturb whoever laid beside her. She creeps on the floor, feet barely touching the cold metal to avoid unnecessary noise. She knows how to stay invisible. He trained her to be once before. The only trace of her ever leaving is the click of the door latch. 

She stills, expecting a reaction. There’s no movement behind her. She leaves without confirming.

Her quiet is lost in the halls though. Her breathing is heavy, vision tunnelling, fury setting fire to each step behind her. She knew where he would be. Where he always was. She could trace his very steps to his command room. Though where she once felt safe, she felt foreign. Nothing more than a pawn in his game. 

She enters the code on the keypad without a second thought. She’d learnt it the first time she’d seen him here – by accident then, but now she was happy she did. The quiet buzz to let her in echoes through the bare halls, then the door opens just slightly, no noise this time. 

He’s sat on the other side of the room. She almost laughs. Almost. He’s reading a stack of reports. He’s completely unbothered. He’s relaxed. This is Alpharius. She knows it. He’s always relaxed behind closed doors, he felt as though he didn’t have a standard to uphold. He told her that himself. 

“Alpharius?”

He looks up to her immediately. He hadn’t expected her voice. His lips drop, his eyes widen. He stands before thinking to speak, talking a step towards her, though he stops without warning. 

His gaze moves behind her. She feels it – a presence behind her. Too close. Too familiar. A shiver crawls up her spine as she turns.

Alpharius. 

The heat drains from her face as she realises. It was not an astartes. He did not share her with an astartes. She shared her with… himself. Another him. Another primarch. Their energy, it was unmistakable. They were two halves of a whole. Yet to her, he was everything. 

“Alpharius,” the man behind her says. Her breathing hitches as he looks to her with the slightest smirk. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t bother trying to explain. He doesn’t even seem to care. His voice mocks her. “You told her.”

His words aren’t answered right away. The cold, flat voice was not wrapped in the silk of his love. But the other? His voice is low. Calm. Possessive. “She worked it out herself.”

Neither look at her. Not really. They speak over her, beside her, around her – like she isn’t even there. Like she isn’t standing in the middle of something far bigger than she should ever be part of.

“She will ruin everything,” the other says, closing the door behind them. He was logical. He didn’t accuse, it was a fact. She should be deathly afraid of the man behind her yet she knew in her heart that the man who truly loved her would not let a thing happen to her. “You know this.”

Alpharius takes a step forward. There is no hesitation in his voice. “She won’t.”

The other scoffs, exhaling sharply through his nose. Maybe he laughs. She’s not sure. She’s suffocated by the feeling of Alpharius behind her. He does not touch her, but he would not let the other get to her first. 

She looks up to him, though still ignored. She forces herself to speak. “I… I don’t care.”

Both of their eyes lock onto her at once. She should have said more, explained what she meant. She wouldn’t. She would tell anyone, wouldn’t speak of it, wouldn’t destroy anything they had built right under her nose. But she doesn’t. 

She turns to Alpharius, moving into his space, their hands just touching, and she looks him right in the eyes. “I want you.”

His hand brushes against hers, only slightly. Behind, she feels the eyes of terror itself staring her down. She cannot look away from Alpharius though, the mix of worry, heartache, fear that runs through him. He won’t look away from her either. 

“Saphis, I—” 

He doesn’t finish his sentence. She watches as Alpharius, primarch, a god in his own right, falls to his knees before her. Her lips fall apart as she watches. His hands reach for her hips, gripping them tight as he lets his forehead rest against her lower chest. He holds her against him, refusing an inch of space, as if she was air itself. 

“I love you,” he tells her. She hears it again, and again, whispered into her like a spell that would stop her from leaving him. She knows they have an audience, yet she doesn’t care. “Please, Saphis.”

“She is a weakness,” the other says from behind. He still doesn’t move. She refuses to look at him. Alpharius’ fingers dig into her skin with every word. “Let her go.”

He looks up to her, eyes glassy, skin red. As she places her hand over his cheek, brushing away a tear, he leans into her touch. “I didn’t want this.”

“What is your plan, brother?” the other asks. Brother. Saphis’ heart beats faster than ever. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise you,” Alpharius tells her. 

She hears the breath of his brother behind her. No more words, no more facts. She hears the door behind them close. Not a slam. Nothing to draw attention. A calm and collected close shut. Alpharius only tightens his grip on her, never once breaking eye contact. 

He curls his fingers around the hand on his face, taking it away so he can hold her hand. He doesn’t rise to whatever challenge is behind. “You will never leave me.”

She’d wouldn’t have known how truthful he was being.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

A light switches on above her. 

She doesn’t even look at it. 

Her eyes are fixed on the wall before her. This was the longest she’d been left. She’d counted all the cracks, the imperfections. She’d run through in her head just how long she had sat on the corner of insanity and madness by the ache in her bones and sound of her own breathing. It was her only constant.  

Her right hand is shaking. It doesn’t move, it sits on the tiled floor, somewhat damp, moving left to right so quickly. Her left hand is still, bar her index finger that tapped over and over again meaninglessly. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Her gaze moves down to the next concrete brick to count. The light switches off again. She could restart when it came back. 

Darkness was her closest friend. Stayed with her through the night. Reminded her of a time before. How long had it been? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t remember the last time she heard her own voice. She wasn’t sure if her throat could make a noise, let alone her lips remember how to make the sound. It was all just memories. Broken, shattered, left too far for her to pick and piece back together. 

She hears the click of the door. Three slabs late tonight. He was usually perfect. He was always on time. 

She doesn’t look to him, there’s no need. Her only other friend, the only other person in her tiny world. She hated him, deep down. Why? She wasn’t sure. She felt it when he entered the room each day, she felt a desire to kill whenever he approached her. She never moved though. Not anymore. 

His steps echo as he moves towards her. His boots pick up the drabs of water on the floor and sprinkle them around her. He stops before he touches her. He waits a second to see if she speaks. Then, he places a bag over her head. 

Not tight. He wasn’t cruel. It was only to stop her seeing. When he’s satisfied, he lifts her to her feet and guides her. To where, she was never sure. There was always darkness. A small guiding light at their feet. He walks her for precisely 387 seconds. He takes a step a second. Straight. Left. Right. Straight. Right. 

He sits her on the ground. He takes the bag from her head. She looks up to him and expects something. She may not know whether she even existed, but him? She knew him. Brother. The other one. Cold. Without care. He never reacts. He never removed his helmet. He left her there. Another cell, another room, another nightmare. 

And she lets herself sleep. 

A light switches on above her. 

She doesn’t even look at it. 

Her eyes are fixed on the wall before her. She counts the cracks, the imperfections. She started in the top corner of the wall across from her. Did each concrete brick at a time, slowly, carefully, recounting the number in her head until she was sure that was correct. 

Her right hand is shaking. It doesn’t move, it sits on the tiled floor, somewhat damp, moving left to right so quickly. Her left hand is still, bar her index finger that drifted over the floor. Her nail scrapped along the concrete over and over. She could feel her skin becoming sore as she meticulously drew the same thing over and over. A cross with a line through the bottom two lines. A sign. Please help me. He told her it meant please help me. A cross with a line through the bottom two lines. That’s all it was. 

She hears the click of the door. She had only completed three slabs. He was usually perfect. He was always on time. 

She doesn’t look at him, there’s no need. His steps don’t make any noise as he moves towards her. The floor hasn’t even had a chance gather enough water for his boots to sprinkle anything. He stops before he touches her. He waits a second to see if she speaks. Then, he places a bag over her head. 

When he’s satisfied, he lifts her to her feet. His hands are different. His indifferent disposition is challenged. He’s careful with her. He’s gentle. He doesn’t want to hurt her. There was less darkness. The path was lit completely at her feet. He walks her for precisely 613 seconds. He takes a step a second. Straight. Left. Left. Straight. Right. Left. 

He sits her down. Not on the ground. It’s soft. It’s dry. He takes the bag from her head. Familiarity sinks in. No concrete slabs, no damn floor and metal pipes. She looks up to him and expects nothing. She knew him. Alpharius. Her lover. Warmth. A new room. A new cell. An entirely different nightmare. 

He doesn’t talk. She studies the metal floor, she listens to the rain against the glass behind her. She hears the lock of the door at the end of the room. He removes his helmet. Her fingers fall into the soft comfort of the sheet she sits on. A bed? Her legs tremble. She feels the prickle of tears in her eyes. 

And, even if she wanted to enjoy the feeling for just a little longer, she let herself sleep. 

She wakes beneath a blanket, its edge pulled all the way up to her chin. She methodically looks to the wall, expecting to count, but its impossible to. She was too far from it, it had been covered with something to make it look perfect, and it was lit so perfectly that she thought it was impossible for there to be imperfections. 

Her body is trained not to move. A cold, hard floor had become her bed for however long. The feeling of a mattress, of something so soft beneath her, it was unreal. She embraced the feeling, wanting a little more, just in case this fantasy of hers ended before she could enjoy it all. 

Her eyes trace along the rooms edge. A window, to the left, showing the grey clouded skies that poured down rain and the occasional strike of lightning in the distance. To the right? A furnished room, dimly lit by lights that lined the corners and pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

A couch, or something similar, tucked away in the corner. A desk across from the bed with machinery on it she didn’t recognise immediately. A pot of pens, but only two pens inside. A chair that looked unused for untold time. A cork board on the wall that had one thing tacked on. Alpharius, and a woman, a dark haired woman that seemed so happy with him. 

“Saphis?” his voice says softly. She freezes, her breathing catching in her throat. His hand, so gently, reaches for her leg under the cover. He’s sat at the edge of the bed, the armour she always remembered him for discarded, only a loose tunic and laced leather bracers. When he meets his eyes, he smiles. “You’re okay.”

Her lips part. Was that her name? Saphis. She doesn’t remember it. She wants to say it, but as she tries to speak, nothing leaves her mouth. Her eyes darken as she tries again, her bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. 

“Do you remember?” he asks. He almost crawls towards her on the bed. She lets him approach, but she flinches when he tries to touch her. He… laughs to himself. “It’s okay, little one. I promise you. You don’t have to be afraid. He won’t take you from me again.”

She wants to ask. Who. Who is he. The brother, the other him. She can’t bring herself to say any words. All she can manage is a pitiful squeak, another that his lips curl ever so slightly for. She feels her eyes start to burn. 

“I know it’s hard. I know.” He lets himself lay beside her, reaching for her right hand under the cover as he holds it gently in his. It starts to shake, but he holds it tight enough that it won’t move. Her left hand, her index finger starts to tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. “I thought I had lost you. Do you know what it was like, thinking you were gone forever?”

He wipes her ears for her. She flinches again, but he chuckles. He shushes her, strokes her hair, holds her a little tighter as she shakes her head. 

“My constant, you don’t have to be afraid of me. I promise you. Everything he took, I will return it. Your name, your voice, your place with me. I will find it. You’re here, you’re safe. You don’t need to remember it. You don’t even have to try. You’re with me.”

She nods. She tries, even as her fingers burn, to hold his hand back. 

“You remember me though, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.” He moves closer to her. He doesn’t force his touch, no more than already done, but he makes sure she can feel him everywhere. He doesn’t even seem disappointed with her lack of reply. “You’re tired. That’s okay. Don’t think. Let me think for you. Let me take care of you.”

She closes her eyes. A silent thank you. She lets his arms wrap around her, embrace her, make her feel the warmth missing for years. 

“We were everything, Saphis,” he whispers to her, holding her tighter, not letting her go. “You’ll understand soon. I promise.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

She didn’t even know when she started crying.

Her hands are wrapped around a single piece of paper. An declaration of how much he loved her from when they first started to know each other. When she realised the man who trained her was not just a son of the Alpha Legion, it was Alpharius himself. The words had started to blur, hidden behind a veil of tears that protected the little amount of sanity she had left. Her hands, shaking, bony and fragile, clutch onto the paper like the very strings of the reality she knew. 

She had left him. 

She’d slipped away in the dead of night. She saw past his curtain of lie, his whispered falsehoods disguised by a truth she never understood. She’d told herself she couldn’t do it any longer. She couldn’t trust their life, she didn’t know what was real, what he’d fabricated, what he’d wanted her to believe. 

The people he had taken from her. Friends, family, ex-lovers. Anyone who dared know her name. Gone. Never existed. Died on the frontlines. MIA. Nothing in her life made her real. Her own records, the years of training she did to become as cold as he was, every record of her service to the Emperor, to the Alpha Legion, gone. 

She was nothing but his. 

And she had left him. 

She had to leave. 

Didn’t she?

A tear falls onto the paper, smudging part of his writing and furthering the crack that splintered down her heart. She leans back against the wooden wall, letting her legs slide down against the floor, her hands resting on her thighs. She looks up at the ceiling, but lets her eyes fall closed. 

She sees him sitting across from her, soft smile on his lips, waiting for her to crack. He’d tell her to come back to him, he’d watch her crawl across the floor and fall into his arms so he could hold her tightly and never let her go. Good girl, he’d whisper, knowing she’d always come back. 

Until he left the door unlocked. He’d started doing it more and more, but she was never tempted. Not until one night, she remembers him falling asleep early, holding her hand against the mattress, telling her to stay with him. She’d waited until he was breathing softly, unconsciousness finding him, then she crept to the door and poked her head out just to see what there was.

He was there in the corridor, watching. He was in bed, sleeping. She’d closed the door and locked it so quickly that it had woken him. He told her, she never needed anyone else, that he kept her here for her protection. His brother was waiting. His brother would try anything to lock her up again. 

So she listened. She didn’t try again. Not until she felt herself slipping. 

She spent years absorbing his presence; his control. She did everything he said. She’d wait to hear him whisper praises in her ear, calling her good girl and mine as he slowly condition her to become his perfect presentation of perfection right in front of her. She hated it. She hated him. 

The why did she miss him?

Why did she want to go back?

Why did she need him?

And why, why, why…

“Saphis.”

Her eyes open. She stares at the ceiling, thinking her mind is playing tricks on her. She processes the voice once, then again, then another time. She crumples the paper between her fingers as she lets herself look forward. 

Why is he standing right in front of her?

She doesn’t make a noise. She doesn’t even breathe. The rain falls down on him, soaking his clothes, yet he doesn’t seem to care. He doesn’t even flinch as each drop hits his face. He just watches her. He doesn’t move. He waits. He stares. 

He didn’t need to chase her. She’d always return to him. 

“Alpharius,” she returns, a silent invitation back to her. The warm feeling behind her ribs starts to bloom. She sits up straighter, crossing her legs, allowing her hand to instinctively rest against her stomach. “How did you—”

“If you want me to leave, I will leave,” he tells her. 

He moves towards her, slowly, carefully. He takes a deep breath as he stops, just before her, then kneels before her. His fingers twitch as they near her, but he doesn’t touch her. He speaks like he’s really giving her a choice. 

She doesn’t answer him. 

“You look tired, little one,” he says softly, his silken voice wrapping around her like ties to stop her. She looks down from him, just briefly, a silent confirmation of the truth. 

He hums to himself, smile weaved onto his lips as he leans forward. Hesitant at first, he reaches for her. He breathing catches in her throat, her eyes locked on his as she sees him reach for her own hand on her stomach. His fingertips brush against the back of her hand, so gently, then he places his hand just above hers. 

She feels it before he does. A small kick. Then another. She sees the way his face softens, his body stills. It was the first moment she had ever seen a vulnerability in his eyes, a smile that wasn’t knowing, or curious – it was real. The choice was never hers. 

“Did it help?” he asks, not moving. He wanted to feel more. “Did leaving make it easier?”

She doesn’t answer again. 

“You never stopped thinking about me, did you?”

He already knew the answers to his questions. They both did. He wasn’t being cruel. In his own way, he sounded pitiful, concerned. Happy. Every step she took away from him was only returning her to the shadow he left behind. 

“I won’t make you beg,” he tells her. He takes his hand away, just briefly, to wipe the last tear that fell to her cheek. Her eyes close as her lashes flutter, falling into his touch. “You’re the one who left, little one. You tell me. What do you want?”

She stays quiet again. She lets the feeling of his touch embrace her just a little longer. He waits, and she tries to whisper. Her voice breaks, more tears spill, and he’s there to clean her up. 

“I forgive you,” he tells her, gently. She opens her eyes, slowly, meeting his gaze once more. Her heart pounds. “I missed you. I would follow you to the ends of the galaxy and still take you back. But this time… if you stay, you stay forever. For me. For our child.”

He leans closer to her. His lips ghost hers, never touching her still. His hand finds her own, entwining his fingers with hers, but not tight enough that she would not pull away. 

“Just say the words,” he whispers, “tell me you won’t run again.”

He sits back. He watches her for a moment, then places his hand back to feel his child once more. He lets his eyes fall shut for a moment, then offers her a genuine smile of happiness. 

“You know it now. You know you were never meant to be without me.” He reaches for her hair, pushing the loose strands behind her ear. “I know you tried hard. All those nights alone, all those days waiting, thinking one day you’d forget me, hoping to forget the way I loved you. But you never could.”

His expression falls. His voice drops to something quieter, final. 

“Because you belong to me.”

He stands, tall figure so imposing over her. He extends his hand out to her, palm open and upwards, ready to answer her every wish. One final illusion of choice, as if she was ever making this decision. 

“Tell me, Saphis. What do you want?”

She takes his hand. 

She lets him embrace her, whisper her promises of their future, together, never apart, just them, lets his words coil around her like silk and steel. 

But she sees the shadow in the doorway. Unmoving. Watching. Empty. 

Waiting. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

a/n: thanks very much for reading! I thought there was no better candidate for the yandere position than this guy right here. hope its not too confusing!! although maybe its meant to be.

[thatnightlamp]

THE GUESSING GAME. NSFW.

You couldn't remember how long you'd been here.

Not just here. This room, this bed, these silk restraints wound expertly around your wrists and ankles, but here, with them. You'd long stopped counting the days. Time blurred into a haze of whispered commands, cool fingers trailing along sensitive skin, and pleasure that became its own form of torment. Somewhere along the way, your will had dissolved like mist under twin suns.

Now you were just theirs. Mind-softened, body obedient, waiting.

The room was dark, save for the gentle blue glow of a lumen strip running along the ceiling. It was always dim here. Intimate. Controlled. Like everything they did. The silk cuffs were tight enough to remind you you couldn’t move, not unless they let you.

A cool hand brushed down your thigh.

You shivered.

A second hand cupped your jaw.

You whimpered.

Two presences loomed over you, familiar in the way a cage becomes comforting after too long. You couldn't see their faces, one always wore a mask, the other liked to change his appearance just to confuse you. One of them laughed softly. It rumbled through your bones.

"Ready to play again, little one?" one of them murmured near your ear, breath hot. You couldn’t tell which of them it was. That was the point.

"Rules are the same," the other said. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Guess who’s touching you."

"And if you're wrong..." A fingertip circled your nipple, sending a sharp jolt straight down your spine.

"...we punish you."

You whimpered again. Not out of fear. Not anymore.

"And if you're right..." Another mouth pressed to your thigh, tongue warm and slow.

"...you might get a reward."

They began. Slow, as always. Hands moving over your body like artists sketching the outline of a masterpiece. One hand at your throat. Another slipping between your legs. Hot breath on your stomach. One of them nipped at your ribs, gentle teeth dragging across skin made hypersensitive by endless training. A slow slide of fingers teased you open, slick, skilled, patient. Measured only by your moans.

"Guess," one whispered, voice husky.

"Who am I, pet?"

Your lips parted, trembled. You thought. Tried to remember the little tricks they taught you to tell them apart, Alpharius always touched with surgical precision. Omegon was more erratic, improvisational. But they'd long since learned to mimic each other just to break your mind further.

"...Alpharius?" you breathed.

A chuckle.

Wrong.

The fingers inside you withdrew with cruel slowness. A slap echoed, sharp across your thigh.

"Wrong," said the voice. "Again."

A hand closed around your throat, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make your pulse pound.

Then lips were at your chest. Tongue swirling, teeth nipping. The other slid behind you, how had they moved so fast? You were on your side now, body held like a doll between them.

"Try again," one cooed.

"Who's holding you now?"

The hand at your throat slid upward, threading into your hair. Another hand gripped your hip possessively, fingers digging into your skin.

You bit your lip. "O... Omegon?"

Silence.

Then, pleasure.

The fingers returned, thrusting with punishing rhythm, coaxing moans from you. The other kissed you hungrily, lips devouring yours, tongue claiming. You moaned into his mouth as your hips bucked helplessly into the hand between your thighs.

"Good pet," the one in front whispered.

"You got it right," the other praised, voice hot against your neck. "Do it again."

You didn’t want to guess wrong. But they made it impossible.

One pulled back. The other flipped you onto your stomach, silk restraints tugging just enough to leave you breathless. Your legs were spread, knees sinking into the soft mattress. The cool air licked between your thighs, and then, warmth. A tongue. One of them was licking you from behind, slow and greedy.

"Guess," came the muffled voice from between your thighs.

Your head lolled back, lips parted in a whimper. That tongue worked like a machine. Controlled, insistent.

"...Alpharius," you gasped.

A growl of approval.

Nails raked down your back, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you arch. A second hand slid beneath your belly, pressing your hips up, forcing you to feel everything.

The tongue moved faster.

"That’s twice now," someone whispered at your ear, licking the shell of it. "Maybe your brain isn’t as broken as we thought."

Then teeth sank into your shoulder.

You cried out.

"Or maybe it is," came the other voice, smug and laughing.

They switched. You knew it. Their touch changed. The rhythm altered.

Now it was fingers again. Deep. Curling just right. The other one kissed down your spine, whispering your name, whispering things he’d done to you, things he would do.

"Guess."

You were shaking now. The pleasure too much. Everything hurt, but not in a way you wanted to stop. Your wrists pulled against the silks, but not to get free, just to have something to hold onto as you started to fall apart.

"...Omegon," you sobbed.

The hand withdrew.

Wrong.

"No," came the purr. "That was me."

A slap across your ass made you cry out. Another on your inner thigh. You whimpered, back arching instinctively. They loved when you cried from being denied. When you writhed helplessly on the bed they’d made your prison.

"Try again."

The other was behind you now, lining up with your slick entrance. He paused.

"Last chance."

"Alpharius," you whispered, voice trembling.

They said nothing.

Then he pushed in.

You screamed. In pleasure. In surrender. He was too thick, too deep, too much, and you wanted all of it. He moved with slow, punishing thrusts, forcing you to feel every inch. The other climbed onto the bed in front of you, fingers tangling in your hair, guiding your mouth where he wanted it.

You opened obediently.

"Good girl," he whispered. "You know your place."

You moaned around him, tears streaming down your face, not from pain, but from how good it all felt. Alpharius fucked you like he owned you. Omegon used your mouth like it belonged to him.

Because it did.

You belonged to both of them.

Every time they played this game, you broke a little more. Every time you guessed wrong, they pushed further. Every time you guessed right, they made you need them even more.

They were training you. Shaping you. Twisting your mind until you didn’t want to guess right anymore. Until the punishment felt like reward.

Until you begged for the confusion. For the touch. For the voice that wasn’t quite the same. For the two hands that felt like one soul dividing you from within.

And even as the world blurred again, and your body began to tremble with the beginning of release, you knew–

They would never let you go.

And you would never want them to.