#custodes OC

[lemon-russ]

The sapphic spirit possesed me and I just can't stop thinking about big gold muscle mommies today. Inspired by? Learned about the idea of? Aquillian Shield Custodes from This post by @moodymisty which has been in my brain. Then I was like, gasp, it could be g a y. Going to be multi-part bc I can't seem to rush smut and need sapphic pining first I guess.

Thank you @squishyowl for the divider!

Tags: @bispecsual @ms--lobotomy

Emperor's Saint (Pt. 1)

Pt. 2

Fem!Custodes x Fem!Reader

CW: GAY, SUPER SAPPHIC GAY

Summary: A diplomat of the Ultramarines, you've been chosen to receive the protection of an Aquillian Shield. Congratulations! you do not have a choice :)

Word count: 1,994

She appeared out of nowhere while you were preparing to leave for a meeting one day.

Nearly as tall as a primarch, golden armor shining, carrying an intricately decorated spear. She told you she was your Aquilian sheild, and you have been deemed important enough to need guarding. She would not say how long, or what you were meant to do, only that she was going to be hanging around 24/7 watching you until you completed whatever you were meant to accomplish.

Lord Guilliman said it was an honor to have one of the Adeptus Custodes personally guard you, so you tried to go about business as usual.

Heraclast, as she introduced herself, became your constant companion. Constant.

“Hera…” you groan tiredly, sitting up in your bed. “Must you guard me from in here…?” You ask. She’s polishing her helmet, her chin length warm brown hair falling around her face on the side that wasn’t shaved short. She looks up at you, pursing her lips.

“Of course, my Lady. What if dangers came to you while you sleep and are most vulnerable?” She says.

You pout. “Don’t you sleep…?” You ask. She insisted on staying with you while you were on this new planet to have your meeting, but you can’t fall asleep with her watching you. It made you, well, shy. Having a nine foot tall goddess of a warrior watching you snore? Emperor forbid you talk in your sleep.

She shakes her head, “No, my Lady. I can go weeks or months without sleep and perform perfectly.” She says, going back to polishing her gleaming pointy helmet.

Great.

You sigh and lay down, starting at the ceiling. You glance back over at her, sitting on a bed that is straining under the weight of her armor. Her face has a long scar from chin to hairline, and her eyes are so green they are almost luminescent in the dimly lit room. Or maybe they are? Who knows, Custodes were an enigma. Hardly seen outside the Palace until Guilliman returned, and more rare to see out of helmet, let alone armor. Their genetic modifications were even more intricate than their Astartes cousins, so Emperor only knows if they actually have glow in the dark eyes to go with their stunningly perfect looks.

You turn your gaze back to the ceiling, trying to not get hypnotized by how her hands look carefully polishing the gold. You definitely should not be thinking about those hands anywhere else. Especially not on you. Or under your nightgown. Which you had to change into with her in the room, which did not help any of this.

“My Lady?” Heraclast asks, making you jump a little as you’re pulled from your thoughts. “Your face has become feverish. Are you ill? I can vox for the best apothecaries to be here in under an hour-” she offers.

“No!” You interupt, blushing more. “No- I’m fine, I’m not sick.” You say tiredly, covering your face with a pillow.

She is quiet a moment, then you hear her go back to polishing, the rhythmic sound acting like white noise and helping you relax slightly. You pull the pillow off your face, rolling on your side to face her, trying to not look like you’re staring.

She glances up again, brow knit. “…Would my Lady sleep better if I sat over there, facing away?” She asks.

You blush, but think about it. She at least wouldn’t be staring you down that way. You nod a little, and she smiles, pulling over stool and sitting back down in front of your bed, back to you. You relax a bit not being directly in her sight, and then try not to think about how close she now sits. You stare at her back, partially covered by the purple cape of an Aquillian Shield, and try not to imagine what she looks like under it.

You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the sound of her polishing, and eventually finally fall asleep.

The next morning you yawn, stretch, and then open your eyes and nearly jump out of bed. Heraclast looks up at you, confused. You look back at her, face burning red. She’s half armored, chest plate and shoulder armor removed and sitting sparkling and polished on the bed.

“My Lady? Are you well?” She asks, turning to you more and making you more flustered. She only has a tight wrap covering her chest, her sculpted abs and arms uncovered. You notice more than a few scars, one on the stomach looks like it was especially bothersome, but try and look away.

“I- I thought Custodes d-didn’t take their armor off-” you stammer out.

She tilts her head a little. “You are safe, my Lady, do not worry. I secured the area thoroughly before undressing, and only have been polishing a couple pieces at a time. Even without all my armor I am more than capable of protecting you-”

“Okay, Okay” you stop her, trying to look anywhere but at her tanned, toned abs, and why are they wet?? Her undercut was also damp, and in your desperate attempt to avoid her you see a wash bucket and cloth and realize she must have bathed. Which makes you even more flustered to imagine.

She frowns a bit, and your heart actually palpitates when you accidentally meet her emerald eyes again, full of concern now. She thankfully pulls on a tight silk shirt and starts re-fastening her chest armor.

“You really look unwell, my Lady. If you are feverish we should get you to the Apothecary.” She says, voice worried.

You frown, expression tight as you watch the way her arm muscles roll and flex as she lifts the heavy plates of armor and starts putting them back on. You swallow hard and will your breath to be even.

“I’m f-fine, really.” You say with a sigh, rubbing your hot face with your hands.

She looks unconvinced, but finishes armoring anyways. She steps into the next room briefly and brings you a wash tub, cloth, and soap. “Very well. I took the liberty of fetching you some cleaning supplies when I got my own.” She says with a smile, walking back to the other bed and sitting on it with a creak.

You frown, looking between the bucket and Heraclast. She looks unperturbed.

“Hera, I can’t wash with you looking at me.” You squeak out.

She frowns. “Why not?” She asks, looking genuinely confused. You frown deeper.

She scrunches her brow and purses her lips. “…Very well, I shall turn away if that helps you, my Lady.” She says, sounding confused but turning to the wall anyways.

Throne damned Custodes, haven’t been outside a palace in 10,000 years and forgot about things like human shame about naked bodies. Or maybe that is just something that was erased with their transformations. You sigh and start undressing as little as possible while still being able to wash.

After a minute Heraclast speaks up again, “Oh, today you have that meeting, yes? Shall I help you with your hair? I am quite skilled at braids from helping the other Custodians-” she says happily, turning a bit to look at you.

You yelp and cover your chest. She frowns and turns back. “Ah, yes, apologies.” She says, scratching her hair. “It is nudity you don’t want me to see, then? I will try and keep that in mind, though I don’t understand why you would hide the majesty of the human form-”

”Hera please” you groan, going back to washing.

She lets out a small “hmph.” But continues looking at the wall.

You sigh and finish up, washing as quickly as you can, then kneel down to wash your hair. “You can look now…” you grumble, dipping your hair forward in the bucket and scrubbing.

She happily turns back to you. “As I was saying, I am very good at intricate braids, If you would like. Many of my battle siblings keep long hair and braid it into crowns.” She says, moving to a stool near you to sit closer.

You glance up at her, smiling down at you, sun from the window sparkling off the intricate jewels and filigree on her armor. She looks so excited to help. You gulp.

“…Sure, why not.” You relent, rinsing your hair.

She beams, pulling her stool over to you and grabbing a towel and hairbrush from nearby. “Excellent, I think you shall make a grand impression on these important nobles with your hair orderly.” She says in a chipper tone.

She picks you up under the arms, making you squeak in surprise, and plops you on a pillow on the ground in front of her facing away, between her legs. Your face grows warm again as she starts to towel off your hair for you, humming happily. *By the throne you weigh nothing to her, she just picked you up like a stuffed animal*- No, don’t think about how easily she can toss you around, stop getting flustered, you chide yourself.

She starts carefully but efficiently detangling and brushing your hair, the feeling of the brush on your scalp and her playing with your hair sending a shiver down your spine.

“Hmph. Now you have chills to go with your fever.” She says with concern. “It is alright if you need to rest today, my Lady, I will not allow them to give you trouble about it.”

You try and focus hard on a plant across the room, “I’m fine.” You force out as she starts running her un-gauntleted fingers over your scalp, catching locks of hair and gently tugging them into braids.

She hums another unconvinced noise but doesn’t press you farther. She is quick with her braiding, fingers grazing your neck and shoulders as she works, the gentle touches making you get goosebumps. You start counting the leaves on the plant to occupy your mind and not just melt into a puddle on the floor.

“You have very well kept hair, my Lady. I’ve never been one to keep it long myself, gets in the way of my helmet, but I appreciate my Custodes siblings who do keep long hair. I’ve always admired the look of it on others.” She chatted happily.

You bite your lip. She likes long hair on others? She likes your hair? Does she think you’re- No, stop being ridiculous, you’re pretty sure Custodes can’t even feel attraction. Probably. If they did, they have all the other Custodes to be attracted to anyway, literally the most beautiful of humanity regardless of gender.

She runs her hands over your hair again before patting your shoulder and making a satisfied hmph. “There, all done.” She said, handing you a mirror.

You take it and your eyes go wide. She’s given you perfectly smooth, intricate braids forming a crown around your head, one even making a little flower shape over your ear, and the rest of your hair free and down, neatly brushed to not have a hair out of place.

“Wow.” You say, looking at her in the mirror as she smiles down over your head. “This is amazing, Hera.” You say, smiling at her reflection.

She beams proudly. “I am glad you enjoy it. Come, you should dress, your gowns have many complex layers.” She says, patting your shoulder again before she stands. “I must go do my bi-hourly parimeter scan, I expect to be finished in 6 and a half minutes. I know you dislike being seen unclothed, so you have that time to dress to a comfortable level.” She says, donning her helmet and picking up her spear.

You blink in surprise as she walks out, then scramble to start getting dressed.

[bieriestsk]

A bit more Paul and Erasmus

1/??

<to 0 | to 2>

[valhallasoutlaw]

I loved this scene, so I sketched it with 40kRenegade

[butchbattlesister]

Okay maybe I don’t get it, but is anyone else kind of uncomfortable and bothered by the whole meme/theory of female Custodes being implanted by Tzeentch?

I like the concept of a silly “retcon” (which is not what female Custodians are) actually being the work of Tzeentch. But… guys please pick literally anything else, I’m begging!

It just makes it feel like the conservative theory of “woke” infiltration of their oh so sacred hobby, feel like it has legs to stand on. I’ve seen cool art and narratives about the concept and I know many people don’t intend for it to be taken as an insult.. but something about buying into it makes me not want to interact.

[foolscr0w]

a culexus assassin and the custodian assigned to supervise (they are happily married)

[greenarsonist]

Uh, new reference for Apollo just arrived

@kit-williams

Everyone, meet Helios, the Solar Watch Custodian I was just 'assigned'

At least he'll help keep Kevin in line even if he is just 12.6cm tall

[steelwingskar-art]

Comm from Twitter

[wolframtheregulator]

Voidgazer Sagittarum [WIP 1]

Making use of a massive amount of long range small arms fire and artillery they clear a path for their champion to deal a coup de grace. These custodes employ precision strikes, a mastery of manipulating spacial anomalies and traveling through the void, and are equipped for long duration extended missions in which they must be able to operate independently. The Sagittarii are celestial hunters, specializing in spacial anomalies and phenomena, be that Xenos or Warp related and go for what they view as the greatest esoteric threats. They are extremely rare with only a handful existing in the Barbatos Divide. Their armor is a dark blue with silver constellations engraved on them, drab in remembrance of their failure to eradicate the Black Jovian Planet Carcosa after their defeat in the mid M30s at the hands of the Tarnished Crown. The Voidgazers believe their mission protects the Emperor and Holy Terra by terminating these monstrous threats before they reach Terra and that in doing so the Shield Host maintains the cosmic balance with each mission a chance to atone for their historic failure.

[remembrancersticky]

So anyway, I really like @moodymisty's custodes oc Valerius Caledon

[sculptorofcrimson]

Smokefields

Synopsis: Valdor bathes his lord

Relationships: Valdor x female Emperor Shard

Warnings: Bathroom sex, minorly dubious consent, vaginal fingering, nsfw

Wordcount: 3057 Possible continuation of Snowfields! Had another free 20 minutes to write, enjoy!

It wasn’t a calculated move.

Valdor had carried her into the baths, she still clinging onto him, bleary and half-conscious and half-asleep from the drugs the medicae had given her. Curiously, she seemed to have taken no damage from the lightning at all. Most of the damage inflicted had been sustained while recovering her. She had no doubt Valdor had already laid waste to all that upon that mission, if there were any other than himself, but she no longer found it in herself to despair.

It was simply a rite of Valdor. The price for ruling the world, if it may even be called that. 

He had settled her into the warm water with the carefulness of a man caretaking a particularly fragile piece of china, gently lowering her inch by inch, and prying off her hands. She hadn’t even realized when he had stripped her, or if he had ever done so. Valdor seemed to have no concept of shame, humiliation or dishonor, none that he could fathom in any clearly defined way anyways. He was simply here to clean the blood from her frame, there was nothing else in that broken, ironclad mind of his. 

She had startled when he had approached her, even while she was lying limply in that bath, head cocked to one side. The Custodian knelt down, soapy sponge in hand, gently reaching out to grasp one of her arms. His grip had tightened when she tried to yank it away. Rhythmically, he had begun to scrub at the skin, firm but gentle. She had watched him continue for a few moments, until he moved lower, until he was working at her stomach, and then her abdomen, and then her thighs. And that was when she had moved.

Valdor had lifted one of her thighs - gently of course - and began to scrub over the skin. The water was warm, his movements swift, and the scent of soap soft and light. He passed over her limbs without even a hint of recognizing this as anything more than a habitual practice, a way of cleaning the filth off a precious piece of jewelry perhaps. She had caught his hand when he tried to move away, and pressed it against her. Something had come undone, something vicious and broken and keening. Something that howled so pitifully out into the encroaching dark, begging for someone, anyone, to listen to her, even if they were her jailer, and his love just as cold as his wrath. 

“Constantin.” she had rasped. Her voice was shaky. She didn’t remember what words he had spoken then. Perhaps one more of his habitual declarations of loyalty as he had tilted his head, and waited for her command. 

“Yes, my lord?” 

Her command was as curt as it was direct. “Bed me.” Something had broken inside of her, alright. Something that had once cared, and was now charred to ashes. Ashes, what an ugly word. It was almost as ugly as “immortal”.

Valdor's reply didn't even change his usual cadence. "Absolutely not, my lord. Your current state-”

She no longer cared enough to fear the consequences of interrupting him. “Surely you know alternatives. Your fingers.” she nodded at him. “I command you to, Constantin.”

He could not resist a direct command. For a moment, Valdor was silent, the sponge held in one loose grip. Then he gave a nod, and set it down, turning to face her entirely.

“Do you remember the first time you had me, my lord?” his question was stated more like a declaration than an actual question. His gaze was eerie. For one, he didn’t seem to be in need of blinking. For another, she felt as if this was an interrogation, even if he had smiled - surprisingly genuine - when he had asked it. It was not a gloating smile, but there was triumph in it anyways, a bitter, victorious smile of a madman that had finally been vindicated in his delusions. 

She didn’t know what came over her then. What spiteful, ancient entity had latched onto her limbs and forced open her mouth. 

“Constantin.” she spoke. Her voice resonated dully, and instinctively she felt herself raising her chin, straightening her spine, looking him dead in the eye even if her stomach coiled itself into knots at the mere thought of looking into that dreaded, insane gaze. 

Valdor was staring back at her with the same fervour of a man that had grovelled in the icefields for centuries, who had finally seen the flame, and was now willing to burn for it.  “Yes, my lord?”

She didn’t know what possessed her then, what cruel, vengeful part had snapped out to command him. “Be quiet.” she hissed. 

Valdor stalled. He looked at her, as if gauging the seriousness of her command. She spoke nothing, simply calmly held his gaze with one of her own, and impatiently bucked her hips. She had no intentions of hearing him. She would enjoy herself, even if this was the only way she would accept it. 

“Be quiet.” she repeated. Then, she grasped his hand, and pressed it against her, and impatiently waved at him to continue. 

Valdor simply gave a short nod to show he understood and slipped a finger into her, slow and gentle and without rush. 

She inhaled sharply, arching her back as his fingers found her bud and flicked at it. Valdor’s strokes slowed, as if calculating how to approach a particularly complex problem, his grip tightening and pressing down upon her hip until she grumbled in frustration and leaned back down. 

He only waited until her movements slowed, then leaned forwards with that maddening grace, as delicate as a dancer performing a pirouette. Valdor lapped gentle kisses against her neck, whispering half-audible words of loyalty she no longer cared for as he freely and gently teased against the wetness of her folds.

“More.” she whispered, gasping. Her shoulders - so thin compared to his bulk - shook in the warm water. Desperately wanting to feel full, desperately wanting to feel loved, to forget the weight of the storm and the snow. Valdor obeys with only a cold smile, something close to satisfaction igniting in his gaze as he traces her entrance with a light touch, brushing against her folds. 

A finger, calloused from weaponry and thicker than any mortal man’s digit, gently probes against her one last time, slipping inside with a gentle pressure, curling just to hit the spot that made her mewl and hiss. He strokes her with a slow, wave-like rhythm, holding her against him with a gentle, almost lazy touch. She clenches, feeling Valdor shift with her movements, and rocks her hips back against him. 

She was mewling, hissing, clawing at him now. Water splashed around her, droplets sinking into the finery of his robe as she dragged at him, never seeming to make a single difference against his silk. Here he would be, perfect, elegant, without flaw, without even a droplet of water upon his immaculate features. She dragged at him, pulling him closer until she could tilt her head up and kiss him. 

The angle was wrong. He was too tall, too large, and he was holding her too tightly to allow for any proper manuveering. Stubbornly, she persists, mouthing against his jawline and dragging at him until he returns it. There was no passion from him, no corresponding joy as he reciprocates. It was as if she had been kissing a corpse. No. Worse. Even corpses can be loved. It was as if she was kissing a statue, one without a heart and without a mind to care.

There was no passion in this. No love. Simply the movements of a primal dance He had beaten out of Valdor long ago, the emotions behind it lost forever, but the movements still remain. He was as utterly obedient as a machine would be, without complaint, and without even resistance. It was, in some horrible, twisted way, submission. 

His free hand was no longer wandering through her hair. It had instead braced itself against her hip to steady her. She exalted softly as he slipped another finger inside of her, the movement so damnably gentle. Valdor was a large man, and yet he always took such care in bed. Growling, she reached for him again, seeking to kiss him again. Again, his lips on hers. Cold, mechanical, without passion. He simply opened his lips and let her explore as she wished, he let her taste the taste of incense and parchment and gold and blood upon his tongue, he let her trace his insides without protest. He simply hummed around her tongue, hunching over so that he could reach her, letting her explore the sharp tips of his canines carefully. He pulled away first, right at the edge when she was about to run out of air. He was still there, resolute, his chest barely even moving as she gasped and writhed as his fingers curled up to hit just the right spot. When he felt her relax around him again, he resumed his moments. 

She cried out as his fingers found her clit, pumping slowly, gently, yet with that dreaded assurance. The pleasure was almost too much to handle. He wasn’t smiling, not quite, but there was that careful, attentive zeal in those eyes again, dark and calculating as he wrung cry after moan from her, his fingers moving with the same efficiency and grace he had displayed in combat. One moment rubbing against her inner walls, another moving against her clit in a hypnotic pattern.

His hands. Carefully manicured nails, surprisingly slender and graceful fingers, calloused from years of weaponary but still gentle. Those hands. He had killed a man with those hands. Slit his throat and watched him die. She couldn’t divorce the image from her mind, even as she keened and squirmed and danced beneath his grip. His fingers kept their quick rhythm in and out of her cunt, making no other sound except for the skin against skin as he honed in with brutal efficiency upon that spot that made her tremble. She keened at a particularly sharp thrust of his hand, sharper than his normal movements, but not enough to hurt her. His fingers were much thicker than a mortal’s man’s, but so infinitely gentle, even as he relentlessly targeted the spot that made her scream. 

She bucked against his grip, sobbing out moans of lust and overwhelming emotion combined, knowing she was in his grasp, knowing he had his free hand holding her down. Smelling that incense, feeling his terrible, murderous presence, and knowing she couldn’t escape as her weeping cunt was fucked with that slow, gentle, yet ruthless pace. 

He could have her moaning in minutes. His fingertip, teasingly this time, curls against that sensitive spot. Desperately, she clamps down, rolling her hips as she chases the high. Water splashes from around her as she grasps onto his shoulders, clawing at his robes, trying to find something - anything - to grab onto.

His finger curls against that spot again. She growled a groan of pure lust as he resumes pumping, rubbing against her walls, and her breath was stolen away in a sharp pitched whine. He had been so perfectly trained, so calm and collected even as his grip shifts to rub against her clit. He had been so utterly built to satisfy any purpose, it was inconceivable how he could fail. Hungrily, she clenched around his hand, accepting the only touch he would offer her. Still obedient from her earlier command, Valdor purrs, and moves close. Uncaring of the water now soaking into his robes, he gently spreads her thighs so his hands could have greater room to work. His strokes were faster now, tracing against her walls, leaving her a squirming, writhing mess, the pleasure rising and ebbing like a wave. That sight of him, his hands fisted around a dying man’s neck, was all but forgotten now, beneath that ache, the lust building and rearing until it was nearly unbearable. She squirms, her hips pumping and buckling against him, even as he lets her move as she desires, never letting go nor forcing her still, simply silent and obedient and somehow mechanical. It’s cold, it’s freezing and passionless and heartless, but it’s perfect , as if he had been trained to every cell of her body, programmed to please every inch of her.

“Con…Constantin!” she gasps. The sound was nearly lost over the sloshing of water, and the rhythm of his fingers through her cunt. 

He was not yet commanded to speak. Instead, Valdor only tilts his head, like a curious dog listening in. He knows. Of course. He could smell weakness like blood on the water. The movements of his fingers are faster now, her walls clenching and unclenching around him, working her with a simple, brutal efficiency.

Her hands had tangled against his back, tracking small handprints of water. In the places where the water touched, fabric hung dark over his tall frame, draping over lean muscle and perfectly gene-carved tissue. Valdor still holds himself with that perfect, immaculate, dancer's grace, even half-hunched over, his face without even a trace of expression as he works at her, without pause and without hesitation, his eyes occasionally roaming over her flesh as if to verify she was still there, and not a creation of bone or metal. She shudders, and closes her eyes, and loses herself in the mechanical sensation of his fingers. She could feel herself nearing, her walls clenching around his fingers, so close to the edge, hips pumping up and down against him as his movements never pause, guiding her over it with the same, insistent gentleness he had always shown.

She cries out when she comes, the waves both intense and shattering. It crashes over her, raw and brutal like a wave of frost, shockwaves reverberating through her core and her abdomen. For a moment the world dissolves, the scent of incense fading, as her mind fades to nothing but sobs and screams. Valdor works her throughout, strokes slowing down so as not to overstimulate her. 

She returns slowly, through blurry eyes, hips still dully rocking as she rides his fingers, waiting for the aftershocks of her orgasm to fade. Valdor’s hand had slowed, free hand now petting her thigh, as if waiting for her to appraise his performance.

Just another dance for him, just another dance. She comes back to herself in pieces, surfacing from the afterglow with a sensation almost like dread as the world refocuses itself with jarring clarity. She could feel the weight of the laurel on her head, the scent of incense from his robes, and the mechanical way he was waiting at rest. She was still clinging to him, her hands having tracked trails of droplets over his robes.

She shudders, and turns away from him. She retreats back into the water, the hot waves lapping gently at her shoulders as she sinks down, facing away from him. He was holding the sponge again, carefully reaching over to bathe her hair, continuing on as if nothing had changed.

Mutely, Valdor tilts his head. He did not have many expressions, and there was nothing except the usual neutral expression he wore while caring for her, as if this was no more important than a routine inspection of a machine for him. He was questioning her, she gathered. Waiting desperately for her approval, or her dissatisfaction.

She closes her eyes, and sinks into the warmth of the bath. Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed at all, utterly nothing at all. She was still under his grasp, except she felt so tired, as if the weight of the world had crushed her down and shattered what remained of her. 

Valdor’s fingers were brushing past her face now. He held her gently, yet with insistence, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, he was staring back at her, sponge held in one perfectly maintained hand. 

“Was that satisfactory, my lord?” He brushes her hair with an air of careful reverence, before stepping back and waiting for her response. Streaks of wetness were already drying on his robe, leaving not even the semblance of a blemish nor scar against him. He was immortal, wasn’t he? Immortal, and utterly without change.

She resisted the urge to snort a laugh. Instead, she smiled, tired and exhausted and having all the fight broken out of her.

“Yes, Constantin.” 

Valdor smiles coldly, as if those were the words he had scripted beforehand, as if this was a performance, and he had taken a bow after a particularly trying dance. There was nothing behind that smile, nothing but a mind that did not know how to love. 

“Thank you, my lord.”

When Valdor returned to his ministrations as if nothing had changed, she closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to gaze upon him, or to feel his cold, appraising gaze upon hers. And she was tired.

So tired. So utterly tired. The water was warm around her naked form, Valdor’s movements slow and soothing as he continued the bath, but she was cold. So utterly cold, and so utterly tired, as if the heart beating inside of her had burst and revealed nothing but gold inside. For a moment she understood what the Thunder Warrior Primarch must have felt, feeling the lifeforce bleed from him but not even bothering to stem the blood dripping from his slit throat, no longer having the strength to fight but still helm turned up, still snarling at an empty sky, mouth twisted into a fading growl. He hadn’t died then, not yet, but the years he spent in purgatory after the betrayal must have been no better. Waiting, seething, decaying in his own misery and loss, nothing but shadow now, nothing but decaying, waiting, and watching, simply waiting to die. A prisoner just hoping his gallows could be constructed even a day earlier. A corpse. That’s what they both were. They were the dead, taking part in the future only as handfuls of ash and splinters of bone. 

She was already dead, even the ship knew it, even the world itself knew it, even she herself knew it, it was only Valdor who refused to confess to that. 

Pinglist: @nonus-secundus @badbobdooley @bleedingichorhearts @starfrost740 @katie-faye1 @sigtamds @troylovesdoomguy @the-pure-angel @metronix36-blog @krynnmeridia @distantmoonbeam @futuristicchaospoetry @liar-anubiass-blog @subtle-like-a-brick-to-the-face @squishyowl @slaanesh @absent-still @sharenadraculea @idonotknowhowtochoosenames @kit-williams

[lemon-russ]

I have finally made more of The Gays (tm). And now with smut!

Bone apple teeth~

Taglist: @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye (And i didnt have taglists before but since i tagged you guys before i assume you wanna know lol @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual)

Emperor's Saint (Pt. 3)

Prev || Next || Ao3

Fem!Custodes x Fem!Reader

CW: GAY, SUPER SAPPHIC GAY, FxF sex, Fingering, Eating out, what you expect from women fucking, plots real thin today ngl

Summary: Hera and The diplomat return to the ship and have a very normal evening of gals being pals in her quarters.

Word count: 4,290 (women take so long to fuck this is so much quicker with astartes)

“Thank you as always, Ambassador.” Guilliman says as you hand him the signed contracts. You made it back in one piece to the flagship, your new golden guard standing happily vigilant near a wall of Guilliman’s office.

The Primarch glances up from his work as he takes the paperwork, then knits his brow. “Hm? Are you well, Ambassador?” He asks as he studies your face.

You suppress a groan as you hear Heraclast suddenly push from the wall she was leaning on, now alert. You had been blushing and flustered the whole way to his office. Hera had been on a tangent on the way over about how she would wrestle with her custodes siblings for fun and how they always did so in loincloths only, to make it harder to get grabs in.

Needless to say the imagery had set your mind on fire. You could barely manage to reassure Hera your faintness and flushing was not a medical emergency, and now here was Guilliman, saying Hera’s trigger words again.

“I’m fine.” You tell the Primarch, trying to keep your voice even. “Just a little warm.”

“My Lady-” Heraclast says quietly, already behind you and placing a very unhelpful hand on your shoulder. “Will you not humor me and go to the medicae? Just to be assured of your health?” She pleads softly, her voice lower and sweet with concern.

Guilliman raises his brow as you flush even harder, his eyes going to Hera’s hand, then back to your face. He has the faintest smile as he processes the situation.

“Maybe your Shield has the right idea.” He says with a small chuckle, smirking a little in amusment. You grimace as you feel Hera’s grip on your arm tighten slightly. Betrayed by your own Primarch.

“Sir, I really am fine-” you try to argue, but it’s too late. Hera is already urging you out the door.

“Come, my lady, it will not take long, just to make sure you did not pick up any foreign illnesses in your journey.” She says, looking down at you with a soft frown and worried eyes. The sight makes your heart stutter again, and you shoot a glare back at Guilliman.

He is smiling, leaning back in his chair and chuckling to himself as you are hurried out his door. “Take care, Ambassador. You shouldn’t let your Shield have to worry so much.” He teases, and he actually has the gall to wink before turning back to his papers.

You scowl at him as the doors close. Betrayal. Cruel, backstabbing betrayal.

____________________________

“Hera I'm fine” you reassure her once again. She was pouting, sitting and watching you from the corner of your now shared quarters. You’d gone to the Medicae and were given a clean bill of health, much to Heraclast’s annoyance.

You sat at your vanity mirror, taking out the intricate braids Hera wove for you earlier from your hair. It seemed to take you more time to unwind them than it did for her to make them, and they kept tangling due to the complexity.

Hera huffs a bit, “Baseline medics, they haven't an idea what they're doing.” She grumbles as she pulls her chair with her, sitting behind you and gently moving your hands from your hair. She starts undoing the braids easily, still pouting to herself.

“They didn't even check for strange diseases, or take your blood, they barely looked you over.” She complains quietly.

Her hands gently tugging and running through your hair makes your shoulders slump in relaxation. You chuckle softly. You've never seen a custodes sulk before.

She huffs, and you watch in the mirror as her soft green eyes follow her fingers as they untangle your hair. You’re momentarily mesmerized by the way her hands move, the twitching of her forearm muscles as she works out the knots, and the way her pout makes her tense her sharp jaw.

Her eyes flick up from her work to meet yours in the mirror, and you suddenly find the chipping paint on your vanity veryinteresting. But not before Hera could clearly see the admiration in your eyes. You feel warm crawl into your cheeks as she softly smiles.

“Though, maybe I'm just worrying about the wrong causes for you always turning red and flustered, hm…?” She teases gently, running her fingers down your scalp and through your now free flowing hair.

Your eyes widen and meet hers in the mirror again, and she grins mischievously back.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You mumble, glancing away.

Heraclast's grin softens to a warm smile. “Oh, of course, My Lady. My apologies.” She chuckles, rising from her chair and stretching. She walks back to her bed- a large cot brought in after she showed up, She doesn't use it to sleep, but appreciated the thought- and starts unclasping her armor.

As she takes off her shoulder armor and places it gently on the floor, and you find yourself entranced again watching her muscles flex as she carefully lays each heavy piece down.

You turn around to face her, “aren't you going to do a tripple parameter danger check or something before getting defensless?” You ask with a nervous chuckle. She makes such a big deal about always being ready to protect you at a moments notice, it’s odd that she’d just get unarmed.

“Aboard the Ultramarine flagship?” She returns with a smirk. “Don't worry, I've done my research on all the marines currently aboard, and accessed all security records for the area and cross checked them with their schedules. They all behave as expected, and I do not worry about your safety from them.” she says with a gentle chuckle, finally stripped down to her under layer. She pulls off her tight silk top and you have to look away again.

There was a small knock on your door, drawing both of your attention. You start to stand but Hera is already at the door.

A somewhat Surprised Ultramarine stands in the doorway, brow raised as he has to look up at the massive woman. “Ah- apologies, I was looking for the Ambassador…?”

You sigh and join Hera at the door. “Hello, Andred.” You say politely. Your former bodyguard looks between the shirtless, massive, only dressed in a chest wrap custodes woman and your messy haired, slip wearing self.

“M-my lady.” He says, clearing his throat as his cheeks grow pink. “I, um, did not mean to intrude, I will come back tomorrow-”

You blink a couple times before your own cheeks warm, “oh!” You cover your mouth, “No no, it's not- Andred, this is my new bodyguard-” you say quickly.

His shoulders relax and he lets out a held breath. “Ah- of course, apologies, my lady…” he says nervously.

Hera grins, clapping him on the shoulder with enough impact to force the marine to balance himself. “Heraclast Ossian, Aquillian Sheild.” She introduces herself cheerfully. “You must be who's job I took! Don't worry, I have her fully protected for the foreseeable future.”

The marine gives a tight smile. “Andred Cestean. It is an honor to meet one of the saints of the Emperor, Sister Ossian.”

Hera tilts her head with a confused smile. “Sister? I do not believe we share any parentage.”

Andred knits his brow. “Oh, um, apologies again. Do Custodians not use familial titles?”

“No? Why would we.” She says with some amusement. “I refer to other custodians as a whole as kin or siblings, but metaphorically. We share no genes. Nor do I share any with you, Cestean. You may call me Heraclast, as all others do.”

Andred gives an apprehensive nod, “Right, of course. A pleasure to meet you, Heraclast.” He flances back to you. “May I borrow the Ambassador alone a moment?”

You smile and nod, happy to have a momentary break from your constant surveillance, but Hera shakes her head, fluffing her short undercut around her chin. “Alone? No. But you're welcome inside. I won't make a peep.” She chuckles, retreating to her cot. You roll your eyes and follow, sitting back at your vanity and brushing your hair.

Andred stands awkwardly just inside the door. “Alright, I suppose…” he mumbles before clearing his throat. “Lady Ambassador, I wanted to ask something of you.” He says, suddenly standing straight and at attention.

You smile and chuckle under your breath. Andred always was a little overly formal with you, but he was kind and respectful, and until Hera was here, he was a good bodyguard while you went about your diplomatic duties. “What is it then?” You ask, looking at him through the mirror as you tied your hair. If you didn't know better you'd think he looked nervous, but astartes don’t get nervous.

He pursed his lips into a line. “My Lady, since I am not in charge of your protection anymore, it would no longer be… a conflict of interests-” his voice actually cracked a little, making you raise an eyebrow, “-for me to ask, would you… would you care to spend more time together?” He finally managed, swallowing hard. “As in, well- romantically?”

You straighten in your seat, eyes going wide.

“Andred, I- I mean, I had no idea-” you stammer slightly as you turn to look at him. You feel the color in your cheeks drain a bit. You had no idea he had romantic feelings. You had no idea astartes got romantic feelings. You really wish he didn't. You considered Andred a friend, but, dating? The thought never once crossed your mind.

As you stammer and stall, Andred slowly deflates, frowning softly as he reads your expression. “Ah. I seem to have… miscalculated.” He says softly.

“No! I mean, well, yes- but-” you try to say, standing from your chair. You reach out to comfort him, but pull your hand back, realizing denying it would hurt him more. “It's not you Andred, Really.” You add a bit softer.

He looks away, taking a deep breath. You can see him trying to hold his heart together in his expression. In the corner of your vision you see Hera watching the scene with rapt attention, chin on her fist and leaning in like she was watching a cheap holodrama.

You try to ignore her. “Really Andred, it's not you, I really consider you my friend, I just-” you press your lips into a line. Your eyes dart back to Hera, and he doesn't miss the look, pressing his lips into a line.

“It's just… there's someone else.” He says softly.

You shake your head, “No, not that- I mean…” you sigh, grimacing as you force yourself to look into his sad eyes. “I just don't see you like that. I'm sorry, Andred.” You say apologetically.

His shoulders fall, deflating from all the confidence he was trying to hold himself up with when he came in. “I…. I see.” He says, glancing at Hera.

Heraclast doesn't even try to pretend she isn't fully engaged in the melodrama, chin on her hands and grinning. When Andred meets her gaze, she at least has the decency to pretend to look sad for him. He rolls his eyes and sighs.

“I'll leave you to your…” he looks you up and down quickly, taking in your state of undress, “…evening, then.” He finishes, trudging to the door.

You frown, scrunching your brow and taking a half step toward him. “Andred, you don't have to go-”

He holds a hand up slightly to stop you. “It's ok. I just misread things and… well, I need to go lick my wounds. I'll be fine.” He says, giving a half-hearted smile.

You frown deeper as he leaves, the door sliding shut behind him and latching with a noise.

Hera giggles impishly from her cot.

“Well, that was interesting.” Hera says with a little too much levity. She flops forward on her bed, head on her hands. “Why’d you turn him down? He seems to like you a lot.” She chuckles.

You sigh, giving her a tired look. “I just… don’t like him like that.” You say, trying not to stare at her chest as the wrap fails to contain her as she lays on her stomach.

She smiles and tilts her head. “Was he right? Is there someone else?” She says teasingly, scooting up on her cot.

You feel your cheeks warm again. “No.” You deny a little too quickly.

Hera blinks, tilting her head the other direction. Her eyes narrow as she studies you, sitting up and leaning forward, making you flush more. You cross your arms and turn away, trying to escape her dissecting gaze.

A playful grin slowly spreads across her face and you see a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

“Heraclast…?” You rasp, praying to the Emperor silently that she isn’t thinking what you think she’s thinking.

She chuckles, springing up from her cot to stand right in front of you, forcing you to crane your neck up at her. She’s smiling ear to ear, and you freeze as you feel her hand touch the bottom of your chin.

Your whole body feels on fire suddenly, and she’s so close that you’re surrounded by her scent- sweet spice and incense and a little rosewater-

“Is it me….?” She asks in a soft, low voice. Her eyes are warm as they meet yours, half lidded and just a little apprehensive.

You feel like the air has been sucked out of the room, momentarily worrying there is a hull breach siphoning the oxogen from the ship. You can’t lie to her, so imposing and so close and by the throne how can eyes be so green-

You try to swallow, failing to sooth your hot, dry throat.

“Yes.” You manage to squeak, voice barely above a whisper.

She lets out a deep held breath, gaze softening into a tender look. Her eyes flutter down to your lips, and her hand trails from your chin up your jaw, gently caressing your cheek in her calloused palm.

“Good.” She rasps, and your breath is stolen again as her lips envelop yours.

You melt. Her free hand splays over your back, pressing you against her as she cups your face in her other and hungrily moves her lips against yours. Your head feels dizzy, but you finally return her eager kiss, which earns a happy purr from the Custodian.

She moves you with her, the edge of the bed meeting the back of your knees and making you fall back on it as Hera eagerly pushes you back, finally breaking the kiss. You gasp for air, but only get a moment to catch your breath as Hera scoops you under the arms and moves you back farther on the mattress.

She leans over you, catching her own breath in soft pants, warm tanned cheeks darkened with a blush. She smiles playfully, running a thumb over your lips.

“I thought you blushed an awful lot for someone who wasn’t sick.” She chuckles.

You giggle, shy at being caught. “W-well, You keep getting all close to me and saying things and-” you stammer defensively.

She grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “And you’re so shy. Never letting me see you undressed, never letting me help bathe you.” She teases in a warm tone. “I feel silly not seeing it, but I suppose it has been a long time since I spent so much time around baselines…” she hums as she trails kisses down your jaw.

You see stars for a moment as her lips pepper your jaw and neck in soft kisses. “In your defense-” you mumble, hands snaking over her toned shoulders. “I was very subtle…” you giggle.

She lets out a low, rumbling chuckle from her chest, pulling back a little to smile down at you.

“Super subtle. So subtle Guilliman sent you to the Medicae to get checked for a fever.”

You laugh shyly, “Okay, well, maybe not very subtle.” You say, sighing as her mouth finds your shoulder, pushing your slip away to plant kisses down to your collarbone.

“Mm, I got there eventually. Only took seeing you completely uninterested in a kind handsome man, and seeing you very subtly look straight to me as you tried to deny having feelings for anyone.” She murmurs against your skin with a chuckle.

You giggle quietly, melting under her and running your hand up the back of her hair. “So… now what…?”

She smiles against you and slips your thin dress further down your arms, exposing more of your chest. “I figured that would be rather self explanatory, My Lady.” She purrs as she follows your dress down with her lips.

You look down at her, suddenly feeling a little bashful. “I mean- now?” You squeak. “Shouldn’t we, like, talk about things…?”

She scrunches her brow, picking her head up to look at you. “What? Why? You like me, I like you. There is a suitable bed for a little baseline here…” she says sweetly, lowering her head to your neck to nuzzle against you.

You bite your lip, head spinning as her hands ran over your waist. “That’s just all you need-?” You rasp, flushing warmer as she nestled her leg between your thighs.

She chuckled, gently nibbling at your neck, “Well, I bought you lunch. That’s a baseline courtship thing, right?” She teased.

You laugh, losing the battle of trying not to fold immediately to the heat pooling between your legs as she gently pushed her knee against you. “Technically, that was my money you paid with.” You chuckle.

She lifts her head again, grinning playfully. “Then you bought me lunch. Thank you, I accept your courtship proposal, My Lady.” She says with mock formality before returning her mouth to kissing the top of your now partially exposed breast.

You moan a little as her hand runs under your slip and over your sensitive nipple. At the sound of you folding to baser needs at last, Hera chuckles and takes it as permission to stop holding back.

She pulls your slip off, surprising you and drawing a soft yelp as it’s pulled over your head and tossed aside. She sits up, caging you in with her arms and admiring your now exposed body with a hungry gaze.

“By the throne…” she Murmurs, running a hand over your stomach. “You’re breathtaking, My Lady.” She says it with such soft admiration, her eyes raking over you so reverently, it causes your mind to wipe blank a moment. The way she calls you My Lady as she’s nestled between your legs like shes kneeling at an altar sends heat straight through you.

You swallow, and reach up to touch her toned arm with a shaky hand. You give her a shy smile, and she sighs and melts as she meets your eyes.

“I like you. And you like me. Your right. That’s enough for me too, Heraclast.” You say gently, squeezing her arm a little.

She lets out a low sigh, leaning in to give you one more soft kiss on your lips before pulling back with a smile and scooting back. She runs her hands from your waist over your thighs and up to your knees.

“Then, allow me to show you how much I have been admiring you, My Lady.” She teases with a smirk, pushing your knees apart gently.

You let out a small squeak as she takes you by the hips, easily lifting your ass up so she can pull your underwear off with her teeth, growling playfully as she slides them down your legs and tosses them aside. Before you have time to blush shes back between your thighs, and you’re taking by surprise again as you feel Hera’s warm tongue running up your center.

Your eyes nearly roll back as she laps over your clit, and she groans a happy sound that vibrates through you. “You taste amazing-” she purrs as she gently bites at your inner thigh. Your hands find the back of her short hair again as a moan escapes you.

She smiles against your thigh and chuckles at your noises, then laps at your lips again, devouring you like your wetness was ambrosia. You fist her hair as she wipes your mind with her mouth, and while you’re being worked into a stupor, the moans and gasps she makes between your legs makes you wonder if she’s somehow enjoying this even more.

Maybe something to do with Custodes competitiveness? The joy of a job well done perhaps? You chuckle internally at the thought before she envelops your clit with her soft lips and you forget how to think again.

She circles your hole with her eager tongue, chuckling into your pussy when it makes you whimper and pull her hair, grinding your hips up to her mouth instinctually.

“By Holy Terra, the sounds you make are so beautiful, My Lady-” she murmurs between lapping at your entrance. “The sweetest symphonies of the finest remembrancers could not capture the melodies of your noises-” She moans into you, drawing another whimper from your chest as she prods her tongue into you and her thumb starts rubbing your aching clit.

You arch your back up, one hand fisted desperately in her warm brown hair, the other grasping at your sheets. You could feel your stomach clutching with heat as she increases her tempo on your clit.

“That’s it- good girl-” she gasps against you. She returns her mouth to your nub, carefully working a finger around your entrance. You moan weakly, feeling her huge finger gently working into you. You never stopped to imagine how a 9 foot tall woman made of 99% muscle mass might be a little harder to get fingered by, but you don’t have time to think about much as she finally pushes it carefully into you.

She licks and sucks at your clit as you whimper and roll your hips on her hand, and she pushes a second finger in as she starts curling them up to meet your inner spot as you buck your hips with increasing desperation.

“Hera-” you gasp, gritting your teeth at the onslaught of sensations. You’re at the edge, breath catching in high, airy cries as she pumps her fingers into your clenching pussy. “Hera, close, I’m-” you plead.

She groans, increasing her rhythm into you and lapping at your clit in long, slow licks. She looks up at you from between your legs with burning emerald eyes, half lidded in ecstasy from being buried in your sweet pussy.

“Good girl-” she grumbles, “Let go, let me serve you-” she hums as she sucks your clit, gently letting it graze her teeth. She meets your eyes as she laps up your lips again. “Come, My Lady. Don’t hold back.” She purrs. She pushes her fingers deeper, stilling their pumping as she pets your gspot while sucking hard and rhythmically on your clit.

You’re pretty sure you die for a moment, eyes rolling back as she pushes you over the edge. When your ears start ringing less a few moments later, you realize you’re screaming her name. Your body trembles as she works you relentlessly, riding out your orgasm and making you cry out for her again as you clench hard around her fingers.

When your moans turn to whimpering she finally lets you collapse. She pulls her fingers out, making you twitch at the empty feeling, and props her chin on your lower belly, mouth soaked and grinning as she pants to catch her breath.

“Have I mentioned how much I enjoy that nickname?” She murmurs, planting a languid kiss inside your knee.

You hum out a mmm? Weakly. She chuckles warmly, smiling reverently down at your fuck drunk face. “That nickname you gave me. Hera.” She clarifies.

She pulls herself up next to you, pulling your head to rest on her chest and petting your hair. “The name you call out when you come, the name you say so sweetly when you’re annoyed with me.” She chuckles softly.

You blink as your mind slowly pieces itself back together, looking up at her from where you’re nestled between her breasts. “What do you mean…?” You mumble.

“No one else calls me Hera. Just Heraclast, or Ossian.” She says, smiling sweetly and brushing fingers down your cheek. “You calle me Heraclast when you speak to others, or when we’re being formal. But I adore that when you fluster and blush, I’m Hera.” She leans down and kisses the top of your hair.

You giggle softly, nuzzling into her soft chest. “I didn’t realize I was doing that…” you say with a contented sigh.

Hera hums into your hair. “Mm, I know. That’s why it’s so cute. You gave me a pet name almost immediately and then pretended not to be head over heels for me for days.” She teases, rubbing your back soothingly.

Your eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion, nestled against her chest and being soothed so gently. “Mmm… I was… very subtle…” you protest drowsily.

She chuckled, making her chest move around your face. “Yes, very subtle, My Lady.” She said with a soft sigh, right as sleep overtook you.

[bieriestsk]

My OCs Paul and Erasmus [...] from Unnamed Company

Actually they are the youngest member of Company and the eldest one. Poor Custodian. Instead of chilling in The Golden Palace on Holy Terra, He is forced to wander through space with a bunch of marginal space marines. Luckily for him, he has been in stasis all this time, but due to the deterioration of the technology, for the last few years he has been hearing everything that is happening around him.

I wrote "Erasmus [...]" because I only call him by his first name. There are thousands of damn custodian names... This bro has a lot of them.

[kit-williams]

Aquilian Shield

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

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon and special thanks to @the-californicationist for pushing me into the brain worms

Hercules looks down at his charge... such a pretty little thing that he was only going to keep back and stay far from... but only when a traitor got too close and nearly ended her with a bayonet strike caused him to finally act. He knelt down as she looked at him with wide eyes knowing some mortals preferred a noble savior... "Be not afraid... I have been sent by the Emperor to safeguard you as you have been divined to doing a great deed in service to the golden throne." He says just seeing her sitting there on the ground with her mouth opened wide still just gaping in awe.

He smiled under his helmet as a finger came under her jaw and gently closed it, "I see that my presence has caused you to lose your faculties." He said with a chuckle. He watches her try to say something but she just blinks and falls onto her back making the sign of the aqulia to him. Again he laughs softly at her antics... something that he has done often in her presence since revealing himself to her.

Hercules was one of the far more gregarious Custodes as he enjoyed the company of mortals and could actually interact with them even when he was "on duty". Which is how it came to be known that Hercules was such a bad influence on his charge as his large palm caressed her face... "I can smell you..."

The blush on her face as she tries to stop... but Hercules takes off his helmet as his short brown hair and glittering emerald eyes look down at her... she could see the freckles across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks that have smile lines on them. "Oh don't apologize my little charge... " He practically purrs as the smoldering look he gives to her goes straight between her legs. He kneels down and whispers to her softly, "Though... you might not be able to walk tomorrow if you do want me to..." He clicks his tongue in a cheeky manner, "indulge." He says with a voice laced like sin.

She whimpers and his eyes glitter in delight as he, like his master, loves humanity. They are special creatures... of course they need to be guided in the right direction... his mouth pushes against hers and she melts to his touch. Oh yes you will keep living after your use is up. He thinks as he pushes her onto her back... he will have to work her up to taking him... but oh... oh she is eager.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Interviews

Author’s Note: This is the next part of the Big E raises the primarchs AU! First. Previous. Next. A big thanks to @plagueparchments, @undeaddream, @kit-williams and @bleedingichorhearts for allowing me to borrow their OCs for this fic! Please rb and support their artistic endeavors!

word count: 5,041 this fic got away from meeeeee

Warnings: none? Please tell me if I need to tag something

Tagged: : @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @sharenadraculea @whorety-k @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan 

Summary: Valdor interviews some candidates to become primary caretakers for the infant primarchs.

Valdor sent out a coded message, asking all  those above a certain clearance level who were not currently assigned to high priority missions to arrive at his office at their earliest convenience in order to discuss a top-secret medium term mission that required discretion, finesse and care. He has already spoken to over a dozen of his fellow custodes, high ranking mortal military officers, admech and civilian mortal staff… Along with the occasional Terran noble. None of them had the qualities that he was looking for as of yet. 

There was a light knock on the door and Valdor called out neutrally “Come in.” A flash of surprise shot through him as Pariah Almach walked into his office. 

“As you say, captain-general. The mission details on the call you sent out were light on details, but I’m… Curious and willing to serve.” The tanned man stated, tucking a stray lock of dark brown hair behind one of his ears and lightly rubbing one of the facial scars on his lower cheek, golden eyes flicking up to Valdor’s face before looking away respectfully.

“There is a reason for that. I have a series of questions to ask you, which I stress you must answer as truthfully and honestly as you can. There are no incorrect answers, but they will determine  your fitness for the mission. If I deem you a potential candidate, I will inform you of the mission details. Due to the nature of the mission it is strictly voluntary, however if you decline the mission, the lord sigilite will remove your memories of the specifics of the mission for the safety of the mission. Do you understand?” Valdor asks, making sure to be upfront. This was the first hurdle that had more than half of the potential candidates who had arrived so far to decline the mission and leave. 

“I understand, Captain-general. I am ready to answer your questions and pass whatever tests are necessary.” The powerful blank answered with a serious and determined nod. 

“Excellent. How much experience do you have working with young children? Specifically infants and toddlers?” Valdor asked, watching him carefully.

Almach blinked rapidly a couple of times, visibly confused before answering “As a child and a teenager, I had many younger siblings I was raised alongside. As one of the eldest, part of my duties were to care for and protect the little ones as best as I could. I haven’t any formal childcare training, but I’ve got a good few years of experience with children of all ages, including infants, sir.”

Valdor noted that down on his dataslate and continued “How do you feel about potentially interacting closely with psykers who will start out wholly untrained due to their nature, as well as those who are closely attuned to the Warp because of their nature?”

Almach shifted a little in his seat “As a Blank of some strength and training, I have dealt with out of control psykers by exerting my own abilities to nullify their own, sir. As long as the psykers don’t attack me for existing, I think I would be able to get along with them well enough… Though I’d need to be away from them for the psykers to learn how to use their powers, if that’s something in the cards for those psykers.” He’s aware that not all psykers who are found by the Emperor’s forces are allowed to continue to live and are brought under his banner. Those tainted are killed to prevent further contamination. Even if the psyker themself is unaware of the darkness they’ve brushed.

Valdor nods, asking several more childcare related questions before saying “I believe that, despite your status as a Blank, you would be a good fit for this mission. As you are aware, The Emperor has many projects going in order to further unify and strengthen humanity. One of these is the Primarch Project. Twenty-one genetically and psychically hand-crafted human infants by The Emperor and each with a multidisciplinary team of the brightest scientific minds who could be found on Terra, created to lead the Legiones Astartes. Most of those scientific minds have been reassigned to the Astartes project, with a couple of the medical staff on hand at any time of the day or night in case the genetically altered infants require medical attention.’

The captain general paused for several seconds before continuing to explain “They were originally to stay in their incubation chambers until their physical maturity was that of a toddler, but strong visions prompted The Emperor to pull them from their tubes early and bring them to a secure wing of the palace. One of these infant generals is a Blank, though how powerful he will be has yet to be seen. Should you accept this mission, you will be assigned the primary caretaker for primarch eleven, the Pariah Primarch. He does not have a name other than Primarch Eleven yet. Your duties would involve the total physical and emotional care of primarch eleven while he grows from an infant to a toddler, which should take up to two years. One of the fail safes that the Emperor put in place in each of the primarchs was to ensure that they would physically mature faster when exposed to danger. You may also be assigned to care for primarchs Five and/or Seven, depending on how many qualified people I find for this mission. What say you?”

Almach swallowed dryly. Could he raise one to three children for war and bloodshed? Admittedly, that’s what they were made for, and his own hands were dripping in the blood of others. He was also keenly aware of what it was like to be a Blank surrounded by non-blanks. How lonely and aching that could get. He would do his duty, despite the guilt that bit at his heart “I will, captain-general. When do I start?”

“Do you have any loose ends to wrap up? Otherwise you will start immediately, and you will be living in the same section of the Imperial Palace as  your ward or wards.” Valdor revealed. 

Almach shook his head “I have no loose ends, sir. Am I allowed to pack a couple of mementos before being transferred to the palace, sir?”

“You are. One of the Golden Host will accompany you to your apartment and aid you in packing, take the rest of the day to get ready.” Valdor ordered. “Oh, and you will be given a week of childcare training before being introduced to your charge or charges.”

“Yes sir.” Almach responded, nodding. He’s not surprised he’s going to be watched while having such information in his head. He got up and headed off, mind running in many different directions at once.

~

There was a light, efficient knock on Valdor’s door, soon after Almach left and he called out “Come in, please.”

“Yes sir.” Apollo responded, quietly walking in, closing the door behind him and sitting down when Valdor silently gestured for him to do so. “I received your call for a highly secretive, multi-year mission? I am here to present myself for it. What do I need to do, sir?”

“Before I tell you about the mission, I have several questions to ask of  you. There are no correct answers, merely the truthful answers you have. If I decide that you are unfit for the mission it is not due to a fault you possess, merely a mismatch in abilities and needs of the mission. Understood?” Valdor clarified, knowing that some of his fellow Custodians would take a rejection of any mission as a failing on their part.

“I understand sir, and I am ready to answer any question  you have.” The Dread Spear responds, lifting his chin a little and squaring his shoulders.

“Excellent. Now, I will ask you a series of hypothetical questions and I want you to answer them to the best of your abilities.” The captain general instructed, before he cleared his throat and stated “You are guarding a very young and willful charge that has shown signs of willfulness and a prickly disposition. They are being difficult and refusing to do what you have told them to in order to keep them safe. What do you do?”

“I remove them from whatever the source of danger is, or I eliminate the danger, depending on whatever is the swiftest option. Is this a bodyguarding mission, sir? I… Do not have experience with such things. I thought the Aquiilan Shields took those missions solely.” Apollo murmured, shifting ever so slightly in his seat.

“This particular mission is set to last for at minimum two years and will be taking place within the Imperial Palace itself, Apollo. There are a number of other… Considerations that caused me to widen the pool of potential candidates. How well can you adapt to humans with enhanced and altered instincts?” Valdor asked.

Apollo thought about the question for a couple of moments before asking “Are you talking about the approved abhuman strains? I have worked alongside different kinds of abhumans before, sir. While they may be a perversion of true humanity, so long as they are willing to serve the emperor, I have no qualms with them.. And as long as their instincts do not get in the way of the mission, they don’t particularly bother me either, sir.”

Valdor hummed, writing down what the younger Custodian said, tapping the stylus thoughtfully against the dataslate before saying “Before I explain this mission it must be said that this information must be kept in the absolute strictest of confidence. Do not breathe a word of this outside of the imperial palace, even among our fellow custodes, even if you know that they are also aware of this duty. If you feel you cannot keep such silence, speak now and you will be removed from the duty roster.”

“I can keep this silent, captain-general.” Apollo answered, shifting a little in his seat again, leaning forward slightly, intensely curious. He’d recently arrived back from a kill mission and had noticed that some of the golden host were abuzz about something, yet they could not or would not say whenever he approached to speak with them. 

Valdor quickly explained about the changes in the Primarch project, and that the infant primarchs had been removed from their incubation chambers and moved to a different heavily guarded and warded section of the Imperial Palace for their own safety, and finishing with “This particular posting would have you taking care of the needs of one or more of the infant primarchs directly. Tending to their physical needs and ensuring that they are adequately emotionally and mentally stimulated as well. You cannot become emotionally attached to your charge or charge. If you feel that you are, come to me and you will be reassigned.”

“I… Infant care is not something I have been trained on, sir and is outside of my realm of expertise. But I feel that I can maintain proper emotional distance from the Primarchs, and should be able to care for whichever one or more of them I am assigned to tend to.” Apollo answered honestly.

“You will be given childcare training for the next week, and then introduced to your charge. I’m sure that you will do well, Apollo.” Valdor murmured, nodding.  

~

Valdor called out, "Come in," As he heard a quiet knock on his door, ignoring the desire to pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd dealt with a half dozen nosy and unfit nobles who had only wanted to know what the mission was. As they had no intention of actually completing the mission he did not tell them. Not that their whining and fussing... and the fact that His Imperial Majesty had shown up to court lat. Again. And with a small dirty towel over one of his shoulders... Rumors abound in regards to why, and he knew that he would need to head those rumors off sooner, rather than later. It was a job for future him, but he's noted down to get done after the initial interviews were done. 

"What is the mission you are seeking to staff, sir?" Zedkiel asked, standing attentively near the door. The Terrab born Raven Guard watching with dark and inquisitive eyes. 

"Before I tell you, I have questions for you to answer first, and the warning that if you are selected for this mission, you cannot tell any of your brothers the mission... And that you'll have limited to time to even contact them over the vox, due to the nature of the mission. If you wish to withdraw now, you may," Valdor explains evenly, watching the other trans-human carefully. 

"I am used to being out of contact with my Brothers for long periods of time during missions, The Raven Guard are primarily trained in stealth, assassinations, and misdirection after all. I will answer your questions to the best of my abilities." Zedkiel murmured, resolute. 

"Good. Now. How do you handle interpersonal conflict? How do you handle discipline of others under your sway? How do you adapt under high pressure situations where you cannot resort to violence?" The Captain General asked. 

Zedkiel was now very intensely curious as to what this mission could possible be about, but restrained the hundreds of inquiries that The Captain General's questions spawned in his mind. He took his time to ponder each question before answering. "I try and find ground with whoever I am in conflict with, to come to a compromise that all involved can live with, if not happy about. As for discipline, I find that corporal punishment leads to long-term issues and prefer to correct problems using more constructive methods. I find redirection and positive reinforcement of the correct behaviors to be a more effective, sir." 

Zedkiel was aware that a number of Commanders and Officers preferred to use the rod and sticks liberally, but he had found that Carrots and gentle correction had much better long-term results, even if it took longer to get unruly Scouts into line, than beatings and terror tactics. "As for high stress non-violent situations, I deal with them by first assessing the situation ato determine the source, and how I might be able to solve or stop the stress. How I would do that depends on the kind of stressor or stressors present, Sir."

Valdor wrote down what Zedkiel said, a considering expression appearing on his face. He was quite certain if he offered a spot for the Astartes on the mission, that Zedkiel would accept without pause. To b able to meet his tiny Primarch. But would he be a good caretaker? From what Valdor knew of the younger trans-human's mission history and personality... The other may be a tad indulgent, but given that he knew that Apollo would be Strict... A gentler hand and limited Astartes exposure should be fine for the infant warlords. "If you refuse this mission after I give you the details, they will be wiped from your mind, for safety and security reasons. Do you understand?" 

"Yes sir. I am ready," The raven guard responded, posture straightening minutely. "The Primarchs were pulled from their incubation chambers as infants for security reasons. They have been moved to a secure wing of the palace and require full time caretakers. Will you be one of them?" Valdor explains deliberately keeping his face neutral. 

Zedkiel's eyes widened a little in shock before the Astartes spoke, voice cracking a little in eagerness, "I would be honored to help care for any of the Primarchs why they are so young." Valdor inclined his head, the corners of his lips quirking up a fraction of a centimeter before flattening again, He's unsurprised by the other's eagerness, "Of those I've interviewed today, you are one of three candidates I've found acceptable for their care team so far. Tie up any loose ends that you have today, then report to Imperial Office 156 on Beta level for training. You and the other caretakers will receive one week of child care training." 

"Yes sir," Zedkiel murmured, saluting Valdor and leaving once dismissed. 

~

"Come on in," Valdor called out as another person knocked on his office door. He had taken just long enough of a break to eat and stretch his legs a little before returning to the desk that His Emperor had given him. 

"Yes sir," Another of the Golden Host murmured, stepping into the room and sitting down. She removed her helmet and massaged her horns, looking him over, a small smirk appearing on her face, "Long day, cap? Just what is this mission? Half the palace is talking about what it might be, or so it feels like." She shook hout her dark hair as she spoke. 

"The mission is highly classified, " Valdor responded before he gave her the same warnings he had given about the secrecy and security level that this mission was and an offer for her to back out before continuing, as well as the pre-screening questions. 

Baphomet flashed him a challenging grin, eyes alight with interest as she leaned over his desk a little, "Oooh, now you've got my attention sir! It's gotta be something special with this kind of security involved. Ask your questions Boss, I'm ready!" 

Valdor cleared his throat a little before answering with several questions in a rapid response, "Do you have any experience dealing with untrained psykers in a non-violent way? How experienced are you with dealing with those who see glimpses of possible futures? How well do you interact with Blanks?"

Baphomet hummed a little, scratching at the base of one of her horns, leaning back in her chair, kicking her feet before answering, "I've corralled untrained psykers before. Especially given how most baseline psykers tend to be squishy. I can usually scruff them if I need to without much issue. Blanks freak me out a little, but the Sisters do important work. As long as the Blank or Blanks in question aren't shitty to me. I'm fine with 'em. But you know how some baselines get with my mutations. I won't tolerate any whining. Oh! I dunno much about seers, though." 

... Considering that Nine had an obvious mutation he couldn't be able to easily hide. Baphomry might be an excellent fit for him as a primary caretaker, despite her disciplinary history. Valdor gives her one more chance to back out of the mission- to which Baphomet flashes him a grin and laughs. He explains about the infant Primarchs, concluding with, "one of them has bird-like wings and future sight. Almost half of them exhibit warp-touched abilities regularly. And all but three of them have shown at least one warp-touched abilities once after being removed from incubation. Are you willing to be a caretaker for the infant Primarchs?" 

Baphomet's eyes widen in surprise and delight as she shot up to her feet, "That sounds line an absolute riot! Fuck yes, I'm up for the challenging mission! I haven't had ... any experience with itty bitties, but I know you. I'm getting kiddie care training before being unleashed on them. I'm absolutely up for it!" The younger Custodes was bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, radiating excitement. 

Valdor nods, a small smile, which he allows to, appearing on his face amused by her exuberance as he instructed her, "Deal with anything you need to. Caring for the infant Primarchs will last for two years at minimum. Possibly longer, depending on how much of a handful they are as toddlers. Report to room 156 on Beta level tomorrow to begin the week long child care course."

"Aye aye sir!" Baphomet chirped before prancing out of the room, grinning widely and helmet in hand. 

There was a quick, rapid knock on Valdor's office door.

"Enter," The Captain General instructed, mildly curious as to who would next present themself for consideration. The fact, as it stood, the caretaking team was half Custodes, did not show any bias on his part, but rather due to the fact that Custodians were likely the best suited to handle infant warp creations meant to Lead Sector-claiming armies when they were fragile and at their weakest. 

There was a rapid clicking sound as a Martian Tech Priest crawled along one wall of Valdor's office. through the door that they were closing with their tail. The Mechanicum's cultist waved a heavily modified hand in Valdor's direction. 

"Uhm. Greetings. Why are you here?" Valdor asked bluntly, pulling out the language translation app on his data slate, ignoring the rising frustration clawing at his mind. 

The Tech Priest clicked rapidly at him for several seconds. The translation software wrote out for him [Here for Assignment. High Priority and Security Level. Serve Omnissiah.]

 ...Great. Sure. Uh-huh. Not. “I see. Do you have other methods of conversation, or is this auditory clicking your only method of communication?” On one hand, it might be good for the infant primarchs to interact with a member of the Mechanicus, and to know that there was a varied methods of communications.. Would it be prudent to allow a member of their tentative allies so close to such a vulnerable resource? Even if several of his fellow Custodes would be present when this priest was as well?

[Singular method of communication.] The priest clicked rapidly, head tilting a little to one side. [Translation simple with helmet and vox-communication systems.]

“While that is true, if you are picked for this mission, not everyone you will need to communicate with has access to a helmet or vox to translate the sounds you are making. Regardless, I have other questions to ask of you, before you receive the details of this mission, if I deem you a fit match. This mission is highly secret and you would not be able to inform anyone else of receiving this mission any of the details. I was handed the task of stocking the best people by the Emperor Himself. Very few people are aware of this mission as it is. If you refuse to take the mission if you learn of the details, your memories of such will be erased permanently. Do you understand?” Valdor responds, leaning over his desk and looming at the tech priest, gaze narrow and focused.

[Understood. Will answer queries. Serve Omnisiah.] The tech priest beeped response. [Will serve faithfully and keep silence.]

Valdor nodded, looking over the list of questions he had and began with “This mission will take a minimum of two years, and will involve a great deal of physical, mental and emotional discretion and effort on the parts of the team members. Do you have any experiences with caring for and disciplining delicate sentient resources? If so, please give examples. Additionally, if you are chosen for this position while you will not want for any resource you may need to successfully complete this mission, are you able to discern between a need that is not being properly fulfilled and a want or desire in your charge that they are trying to emotionally or mentally attempting to manipulate from you?”

[I have worked with tech-priests in training, after they are released from their vat tubes. They can be unruly as their weak flesh can overwhelm them with sensation and stimuli. Routines, training and careful praise/punishment system is effective in keeping them in line. Before they have been fully brought into the fold, some of the young priests in training can get… Stubborn and unruly. I have dealt with youthful manipulations in the past with a firm hand, when interacting with them. Logic and not yielding to yelling or other emotional appeals is important while training and interacting with such resources.] The tech priest - whose name escaped Valdor at the moment - clicked at a steady tempo.

Valdor hummed as he wrote down the other’s response. The lack of regular communication was a bit of a hindrance, but his responses were illuminating and could prove to be most useful in dealing with the infant primarchs. That and they would need to get used to the strangeness of the Mechanicum quickly, so early exposure wasn’t a bad  idea. “Very well. This is your last chance to back out before I explain to you the mission parameters. If you do decide to back out, it will not be held against you in any way.”

[I am ready to serve.] the tech priest clicked.

The captain-general nodded, before explaining the success of the primarch project, and the fact that the infant generals had been pulled out of their maturation tubes as infants due to security concerns, and the fact that the tech priest - amongst others - would be tending to their physical and emotional needs during such a vulnerable point in time, as well as the week long child care training the priest would be taking before being introduced to his charges, finishing with “Currently all of the primarchs are being cared for in a single room together, though that is subject to change, particularly as they grow older and their requirements change. Do you accept this duty?”

[I would be honored, Captain-general.] The tech priest beeped back, his tail flicking a little. 

“Good. Finish up any tasks you have today.” Valdor ordered him, informing the tech priest as to where to report to for training tomorrow.

~

“Sir, are you still looking for candidates for that high priority, top-secret mission?” Adonis asks as he peers into Valdor’s room, where the captain-general of the Adeptus Custodes is sitting, staring at his dataslate as if he hopes it has the questions to all the questions in his mind.

Valdor looked up at Adonis as he spoke and beckoned him inside with a curl of one finger “That I am. I have found some who qualify, but ideally I’d have one or two more on the team to fill it out competently.” He was still somewhat hesitant in including the tech priest in the group… But from what he had read over of Tiny’s service history, the priest should be a good fit, if a mildly mischievous caretaker. 

“I see. What qualifications are you looking for, sir?” The Aquilan Shield asked, tilting his head a little in curiosity as he obeyed the silent order to come into the other’s office and sit down. 

While Valdor had been tempted to simply assig the infant Primarchs a team of Aquilan Shields - particularly those who had been previously assigned young charges in the past, he was also aware of the… Mixed feelings that the Primarchs provoked in many of his fellow Custodes. Mixed feelings that Valdor knew he himself was not exempt from. “I have several questions to ask of  you, as well as a warning to give to you.” He informed the other of the length of the mission, if he refused it that the memories would be taken from his mind, and that Adonis was free to decline the mission with no repercussions.

“Ask your questions, sir. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t ready to complete such a mission.” Adonis answered stalwartly, chin lifting up a little, resolute.

“How have you handled medical emergencies that occur to your charges in the past? When one of them fell seriously ill, for example.” Valdor responds. He knew that Adonis had never allowed any of his charges to come to harm during the course of his duties,but illness was an unfortunate thing that happened to baselines. While it was exceedingly unlikely that the infant primarchs could get sick with normal illnesses, and the palace was well-guarded against magical curses and maladies…

They were still gene-crafted infants, and while they were definitely heartier than any natural born infant, there was still the possibility of something unfortunate happening to one or more of them. 

“Fifty years ago, one of my charges fell critically ill. I realized their symptoms and brought them to one of my brother apothercaries who had training in treating the illness that they had fallen prey to. Once they had the medications they required I monitored them closely for signs of relapse or worsening condition, while ensuring that they complied with the medical orders and restrictions they’d been given. I personally ensured that they got all of the nutrients, electrolytes and water they needed in the form of a nutritious but easily consumed soup. Under my care they swiftly and fully recovered from their illness.” Adonis answered promptly “While they were resistant to fully complying, I allowed them to move a little more than recommended in order to get them to consume the soup I created for them without fuss. A little bit of compromise goes a long way to compliance in my experience.”

Valdor nodded as he noted that down, a reflective expression appearing on his face. “I will ask you once more, do you wish to withdraw your name from consideration? If you do not, I will explain the mission parameters.”

“I am ready to serve, sir.” The Aquilan Shield responds, alert and inquisitive.

The captain-general explained to Adonis about how the primarchs had been pulled from their maturation chambers as infants, where they had been placed, adn the fact that his Majesty had been the one primarily taking care of the infants, before realizing that to take care of so many infants at once would effectively prevent him from continuing to reunify the Sol system, amongst His many other duties that had begun to fall to the wayside. Which was why he had assigned Valdor to find appropriate caretakers for the infant primarchs. He finished with “Are you willing to care for the infant primarchs, while they are so weak and vulnerable?”

Adonis nodded “I would be willing to do so, sir. I am well aware of His plans for them in the future and will do my best to guard and guide them, should I be chosen for this mission.”

Valdor nodded, saying “Excellent. I will give you the rest of the day to tie up any loose ends you may have. Report to room 156 on Beta level tomorrow to begin the week long child care course.” 

“Yes sir.” Adonis acknowledged before leaving with a brief salute.

[anoliverbranch]

Hello these are my Adeptus Custode ocs（Including female ACs(I like to call them AC🥺👉🏻👈🏻）

P1 is an oc that I send to my friend as a gift.

And others are my Ocs

The pink hair AC is female and I like to call her Pinky🥺👉🏻👈🏻（her name was Chaska.）

[leier-coyol]

I redrew Nesso to be a blade champion

A quick sketch of him with my felinid Catnip, she's 5'1