#demetrian titus x reader

[beckyninja]

Relief

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader

Warnings: talk of periods, sexual content, MDNI

Description: Titus "helps" his serf lover through a particularly painful time of the month.

Forget whatever I said about my last fic. This one is definitely the spiciest thing I've ever written! I had planned on something entirely different, but then "that time of the month" reared its ugly head. And suddenly all I could think about was having a strong, handsome Astartes to help me through it.

Titus didn’t sprint, though he wanted to. 

After enduring the ominous warnings of the Chaplain, the disdain of Captain Acheran, and the incessant prying of his new squad (not to mention the small matter of a tyranid invasion), he longed for the solace of your presence.

Your touch.

Rage still burned like promethium within him when he remembered entering his quarters to find you half-starved. 

“You’re alive.” You’d whispered upon seeing him. “You’re alive.”

When I find the one responsible for her suffering….

His growl sent several serfs darting out of his path. He walked faster and, at last, the door to his quarters came into view. Soon, he would have you in his arms.

Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought. 

The first time he lay with you, before Kadaku and his remaking, had been beyond his imaginings. Baseline anatomy lessons from his neophyte days supplied the rudiments. But he had the Space Wolves and a solitary Salamander he’d met in the Death Watch to thank for the rest.

He’d encountered the former boasting of their conquests one evening in the dining hall after one of them had smuggled in a few barrels of foul-smelling mjod. As they grew more intoxicated, they delighted in shocking the more puritanical Astartes in the Watch with detailed descriptions of “fraternization”. 

Titus remembered being repulsed at first. Though, against his better instincts, that repulsion soon turned to wary curiosity. 

While the Wolves howled about conquering and claiming, a Salamander Apothecary had taken a seat next to Titus and shaken his head.

“Not all baseline females are the wild she-wolves of Fenris.” The old drake had rumbled quietly. “If an Astartes is blessed with the affections of a woman, he should cherish her with gentleness, for she is rare and precious.”

Titus remembered a sorrowful look in the veteran’s red eyes as he spoke, and the way he stroked a bone reliquary tied at his waist. 

He had tried to incorporate all he’d overheard into your union. You’d been so fragile in his hands, so vulnerable. And when your body welcomed him inside. When, amidst the white heat of his own ecstasy, he saw you gaze up at him….

Throne of Terra, I would slaughter every tyranid in the Hive Fleet to have you look at me like that always.

He punched his code into the access panel. He only had a few hours of leisure to spare, and a third of that had already been taken up in removing his armor. But he needed to feel your skin upon his again.

The door hissed open and-

Blood.

Every enhanced sense he possessed sharpened to a razor’s edge as the metallic scent filled his nostrils. Unlike before, when his mind had been clouded by sleep, he knew with absolute certainty this blood came from your body. 

The room was empty. Half the candles lit. One smoking tapir on its side by the cot. Indents on the mattress the size of small baseline hands. Drops of red on the floor. The sharp taste of stress and pain chemicals. Soft whimpers from the lavatory.

All this came to him in the time between heartbeats. Another heartbeat and he stood before the closed lavatory door.

“Little Healer?”

The medicae had said you would be fine. An injection of nutrients, a high calorie meal, and rest. You already looked better when he left you in the infirmary. They said you would be fine.

He’d had to leave. He had no choice. They said you would be fine!

“Demetrian?”

Conscious and able to speak. He leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the door.

“I am coming in.”

A sharp gasp. “No! Just, just give me a moment, please.”

He heard pain in your voice. His instincts screamed at him to tear through the metal to reach you.

The door slid open.

Pale skin. Sweat beads on your forehead. Hunched shoulders. You smiled up at him, but reeked of misery.

He scooped you into his arms. “We are returning to the infirmary.”

“Demetrian-”

“You are still unwell.”

“Demetrian, please-”

He strode toward the door of his quarters. “Or did you injure yourself?”

“No, Demetrian! Listen-”

“I should not have left you alone.”

A tiny fist bounced off his jaw. He stopped mid-stride and looked down at you in shock. You looked back at him, then down at your clenched fist, seemingly stunned by your own actions.

“I…I…,” you closed your eyes and breathed deeply, “I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me.”

“My lord?” He muttered. 

“Please put me down. I’m not unwell. And I’m not injured.”

He scowled. “You reek of blood, woman.”

Throne, has whatever hurt she suffered affected her mind as well?

“I know, but it’s…it’s natural, Demetrian.”

The Warp it is. “Explain.”

She sighed. “Can you put me down first? Please?”

“No.” 

He tightened his grip. If her mind was unbalanced, who knows what she might do if he released her.

Another sigh. “Fine. Once a month, a woman’s body undergoes a certain process….”

He remained silent during her entire explanation. When she finished, he carefully set her upon his cot.

“And this…cycle…causes pain?”

“Every woman experiences it differently. Some only ever feel mild discomfort, for others it’s little short of agony.”

You bit your lip. The pain smell spiked and, with it, his concern. 

“Why have I not noticed before?”

You breathed slowly now, in through your nose, out through your mouth. “You’ve always been on mission during this time. And…agh…in the Watch Fortress, Lord Apothecary Nev’ran made sure to set pain suppressants aside for us female serfs.”

The old Salamander always had a soft spot for the baselines, Titus remembered.

A low moan drew his attention back to you. You folded on his cot, arms wrapped around your midsection. 

His fingers twitched, automatically seeking a weapon. The instinct to destroy whatever caused you pain surged. He needed to fix this.

“Did you request pain suppressants from the medica?”

You started rocking slightly. “I…tried. He said they were unnecessary and dismissed me. I didn’t dare argue. In the Fortress, there were serfs I could go to for help during this time.” You looked up at him with a tight smile. “But I’m beginning to think I’m the only woman on this ship.”

Titus thought back over the last few days, and all the baseline crew he’d encountered.

She may be right.

“Oh Emperor….” 

Your whimper felt like another Carnifex talon through his chest.

“There must be something I can do.” He knelt before you, cupping your face in his hand. “Anything.”

You pressed against him. “Heat. Heat sometimes helps.” 

He let you move his hand to your lower stomach. You opened your robes and pressed it against your skin. 

“And, on my back, please?” 

Before you’d even finished asking, he slipped his other hand in and around. You gripped his arms and whined.

“Oh, oh yes.” 

He shouldn’t be aroused by this. You were still in pain. But your soft sounds of helplessness, the feel of your skin beneath his hands, the way you trembled. All of it called to a primal part of him only recently awakened.

And when you looked up at him in wonder and said, “You’re…you’re so much bigger now.”

Throne damn it.

Titus yanked you to him and took your mouth. You yelped, but did not struggle, instead throwing your hands around his neck and digging your fingers into the hair at his nape. He snarled at the sensation, pushing his tongue past your lips like you’d shown him that first night.

This time your moan sounded of pleasure.

He pressed his body against you, lowering you to your back on the cot. Your hands left his neck and fluttered against his chest. You pulled away from his kiss.

“Demetrian….”

He pressed his mouth to your throat, laving it with his tongue and tasting your sweat. He searched for a spot he could bite without leaving a visible mark. 

“Demetrian, stop!”

The magnitude of his selfishness crashed upon him.

“Throne. Forgive me, Little Healer.” Reeling back, he searched your face for any sign of pain. “I…I did not think, I…,” he raked a hand over his face, desperately trying to rein in his baser instincts.

“It’s all right. It’s just, now might not be the best time.”

“Would it cause you more pain?”

A blush spread across your cheeks. “Um…no, that’s not it. In fact, some women say…this…actually helps.”

“Truly?” 

Desire welled within him once more, washing away any lingering guilt. He bracketed your small body with his hands and loomed over you. 

“Then why should I stop?” You turned your face away, but he gently grasped your chin. “Look at me, and tell me why.”

“It, it,” he heard your heart beating wildly, “it could get a bit…messy.”

He blinked, then allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “Woman, when has an Astartes ever shied away from the sight of blood?”

A new smell met his nose, one he had only recently become familiar with. He lowered his face close to yours and inhaled deeply. 

“You want this as much as I.”

You nodded frantically, hands suddenly pawing at his collar. “Yes! I want this. Please, Demetrian. Please, please, please!”

He tore his robe open and flung it to the floor. Your clothing swiftly followed. The scent of blood and arousal maddened him. He tried to pull your thighs around him, but you winced at the stretch.

For the first time he cursed the Primaris surgery. Grasping your hips, he turned you on to your front and settled behind you. He ran his hands down your back and sides, loving the way you trembled.

“Are you ready for me, my love?”

You pushed back against him. “Please, Demetrian.”

He thrust and your wet heat welcomed him in. His eyes rolled at the sensation, still so unlike anything he ever thought he’d experience. You cried out far louder than you had the first time. 

“Demetrian! S-so big…!”

Again. Again. Again, he thrust. In this position he felt powerful, primal. Like a beast claiming its mate.

The Wolves were right, damn them!

All at once, you tightened and screamed. With a growl he followed you over the edge. 

You collapsed onto your front. “Please…more….”

The first time, he’d only taken you once, denying his satisfaction for the sake of your overwhelmed little body. But now you begged him to continue. Who was he to refuse?

Three more times he released deep within. He pressed himself to your back, hand fondling your breasts as he pounded relentlessly. He lost count of how many times you shook apart around him. His own blinding pleasure paled in comparison to the knowledge that his actions relieved your pain. 

A tool designed to inflict suffering on others, but he brought you ecstasy.

“D-Demetrian…,” you whimpered. 

His fingers dug into the bruised flesh of your hips. “One more.”

You wailed as he filled you one last time, arching his spine to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Then he collapsed on his side.

He caressed your sweat-streaked back, allowing himself a brief moment to revel in the haze of pleasure. You lay still and panting next to him. 

“Are you well, my love?”

“Mmmm.”

By now, he recognized the sound of bone-deep satisfaction. He smiled down at you, already feeling his own body recovering. 

“You were right about one thing.”

“Mmm?”

“That was rather messy.”

You turned your head and attempted to glare at him. He chuckled, rose, and fetched a wet cloth from the lavatory. Ignoring your reaching hands, he cleaned the both of you. Then he sat on the edge of the cot and lifted you into his arms.

“Better?”

Your dreamy smile answered him. An entirely different kind of heat warmed his hearts as he cradled you. He ran a thumb over the imprint of teeth on your shoulder.

“I was not too rough?”

“You were perfect.” Your hands traced his new scars. “Throne of Terra, I came so close to losing you, didn’t I?”

He heard tears in your voice and held you closer.

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled. “Another side effect of this time. I tend to turn into something of a weepy, clingy mess.”

“I enjoy your clinging.”

“But you need to go.”

“Yes.” As always, your respite, brief as it was, left him better prepared to handle the weight of his duty. “Will you be alright?”

“You have enough trouble without worrying about me, Demetrian. Human women have endured since our species began. I’ll be fine.” Your smile flickered. “Please, be safe. I love you.”

“And I you.” He pulled his robe back on and leaned down to kiss you once more. “I will return.”

And, I swear, I will find another way to ease your pain. 

***

An hour passed. You rested for a bit, then dressed and cleaned yourself more thoroughly. You stripped the sheets from the mattress and prepared for the trek to the laundry and then the serf’s dining hall. Not only had Titus's attentions eased your cramps, but you thought you might actually have an appetite again.

Just as you were about to leave, a few sharp raps sounded at the door.

“Who…?” 

You opened it to find a slight young woman with a face full of freckles and a satchel over one shoulder. Her robes marked her as a serf and a medica.

“Thank the Emperor!” She gushed. “I was afraid I’d gotten the wrong room!”

“Um. Hello?”

“My name is Vesta. I was just transferred here alongside my Lord Callistus. He’s supplementing the Apothecaries already in residence, you know. I was afraid I’d be the only woman! There are so few of us serving on the battle barges.”

You blinked, head-spinning from the rapid-fire chatter. “I see?”

She continued, stepping straight past you into the room. “I was just on my way back to the infirmary, when this massive Primaris Lord Angel barreled down on me. How fearsome he was! I don’t need to tell you I was terrified I’d done something wrong, and on my first day on a new ship, too! But he said you were experiencing some difficulties and needed assistance.”

Oh, Demetrian…. You fought a smile.

Vesta plopped the satchel on the cot. “I have pain suppressants, cleansing cloths, sanitary napkins. I do hope I brought enough.”

“This is incredibly kind of you.”

“Us women have to stick together, right?” She smiled cheerfully. “I hope we’ll be great friends!”

You found yourself warming to her effervescence. “I would like that.”

“You’re so fortunate to have a Lord Angel who’s attentive to your needs!”

You turned away, suddenly all too aware of the pleasant ache between your thighs. “Yes. I am.”

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @b-rabbitboss @vyzz-undercover

@missmannequin @rivalriotrenegade @iloveoutlinesiswear @jaghatai-khock

If you enjoy my writing, check out the rest of the stuff on my Masterlist.

[shellswritesstuff]

Titus without a doubt gives the best (and slowest) head

𓊆ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴛʀɪᴀɴ ᴛɪᴛᴜs X ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - ᴇsᴄᴀᴘɪsᴍ.𓊇 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚(⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

rating: explicit. (explicit sex, oral.) cw. size difference, afab!reader, g. neutral pronouns. 

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴏɴ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ǫᴜɪᴄᴋɴᴇss ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ. ᴏᴍɢ, ɪ ғᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇnʟɪɢʜᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ. ᴍᴏsᴛ ʜᴏɴᴏʀᴀʙʟᴇ ᴀɴᴏɴ. ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴀᴡᴅ. ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

In this grim universe, little to no solace existed. Death was more of a paradise than anyone could imagine... yet many choose to fight on. Every damn day was a struggle for a cause much bigger than you know. Nothing was, or ever will be in your complete control. That includes your fate. It was a damn depressing fact.

Though, having a handsome space marine between your thighs does help ease the mind.

"Mmph.." Honorable Lieutenant Titus was making a mess of himself between your thighs. The sight was downright pornographic; your much smaller frame spreading wide to welcome his needy mouth. One leg was slung over his broad shoulder, while the other was gently held in place by your lover. "Dear one, I can't help but get lost in your.."

You rise your hips off of the bed, silencing Titus. Your aching slit closing the dreaded distance. Sweet nothings would have to wait. Thankfully, the space marine got the message. His heavy tongue gave languid strokes across your clit, pleasure with every movement. He ate your pussy slow, intently, and skillfully. Where he'd picked up such talents, unknown to you both. To quote your lover; he just followed his instincts. Fucking hell.

You writhed under the act, staying anchored in place only by Titus' will alone. The heavy muscle bullied your swollen bud, the exerted pressure only heightening the coming orgasm. You wanted to cry out his name. Not the one his superiors wore out, but his first name. A deeply personal gesture, now turned corrupt by lust. Damn his quarters being so close to others. It was a battle to keep quiet, Titus makes it so fucking hard not to scream. Deep down, you knew that fact got him off. Pervert.

He made eye contact with you, not ceasing his actions for moment. Your climax had been steadily building, it's peak dangerously close. You wanted to cum so bad, beg Titus to speed up and give you more, but you weren't the one in control here. His subtle dominance made you drip. Titus took a moment to breathe, looking at his work. A plead was about to escape your mouth, but got quickly forgotten as your lover pressed two large fingers into your entrance. Your hands shot up to your mouth, muffling the squeal. It was a sinful stretch. Not one your body hasn't experienced before, but a welcome challenge nonetheless.

Like it always happened, Titus's fingers and tongue guided you to climax. You'd cover his face in your juices, marking him with the love you two created. The feeling was unlike any other, your body convulsing to a beat that was never there, hushed cries of your lover's name... Titus committed the sight to memory. His and his actions alone wrecked you. It was one of the selfish comforts he took in this dire world.

[adhd-fandom-hyperfocus]

✧₊⁺ This Was Not In The Codex ✧₊⁺

Pairing: demetrian titus x reader(f)

Summary: Titus is on a much-needed leave on Macragge. While there he runs into you, or rather you run into him escaping terrible punishment for being unable to tell a lord no.

Part 1/?

Arthur's Note: I am terrible at keeping POV when writing in the third person and try to do omniscient, but again I am no real writer.

Warnings: Pregnancy (reader is pregnant), mentions of SA, and general gimdarkness.

18+ Minors DNI

★。------ ＼｜／------。★

There were several reasons Titus was planet side, from a wound he sustained that required more rest than normal, and Calgar seemed all too aware that with everything that had happened, there was still lingering broken trust among his brothers. Moving Leandros to Chaplin was a means of stopping the boy from doing more harm, but it wasn't a move Calgar hadn't been overly pleased with.

But Titus seemed to understand the will of their Gene-sire better than most, and his humanity despite it all remained intact. Something Guilliman wanted to make sure was nurtured.

Titus lumbered through the streets, drawing eyes as he did. Even within the great Macragge people were still awe-struck to see an Astartes. It was odd the monotonous sounds of everyday life felt more overwhelming than the loud cacophony of war. Though the smells were much more desirable. Scents of smoked meat were pulling the large man along when his ears picked up commotion and then something small bumped into him.

Oh the pitiful creature that had run into him. You looked worn beyond your years, weak from malnourishment and shaking like a leaf in the wind looking up and seeing what you ran into. Your lips busted and scabbed over from dry blood. Your feet are torn and broken apart from no proper footwear.

The thin rag you call a dress barely hides your bump. Your hands instinctively wrapped around it, as if you could protect your unborn child from such a giant. A smell rose into his nose as he heart the faint trickling of liquid. You were so terrified you were urinating yourself. Titus had seen this fear in warzones. What in the Throne had you so scared. His size aside.

Titus could see law enforcement coming up, chasing her. But they weren't local militia, these were private. His mind reeled all the practicals and theoreticals there could be to this situation.

"Can you get behind me, please? Are you able to move?" he asked quietly, as gently as he could, though with some urgency.

You nodded weakly and moved behind him, his massive body hiding you.

The guards stop short of Titus gazing upon the Asartes. His aura gave them great pause, mostly seeing how you were hugging one of his large legs.

"I see you are one of the Emperor's angels. Lord, she is a wanted criminal, and have been tasked to bring her back to our lord's estate." one guard finally spoke, but there was a shakiness to his voice.

"Wanted? On what charges, and why back there and not turned over to proper authorities?" Titus pressed. The rough timber of his voice becoming more pressing against the guards.

The guard looked uneasy and agitated, going between the two emotions rapidly, "This matter is hardly of note for one such of you My Lord, please, let us take her."

Titus shook his head, "No. You have not answered my questions. What is her crime and why is she to be taken to your lord?”

“Is not enough that she is a serf who has abandoned her duties?” the main guard responded, “She is to be taken home and punished. On top of that she is to be questioned by the Inquisition for heresy for seducing our lord with foul magic.”

Titus choked down a snarl at the mention of the Inquisition. Of course, a group of religious zealots could be tricked into seeing a poor serf as a heretic, so a piss poor excuse of a lord could get rid of his dirty laundry.

Perhaps his primarch was right and this Imperium was a rotting corpse.

“Then this is cause for my concern. I will take her into custody and our librarian will see to her.”

You start to plead and move away, as vain as you know it to be, but a large hand stops you. Holds you in place. It is firm, but not harsh.

The guard tried once again to argue but Titus cut him off, this time not holding back so much on his voice's power, “Are you challenging a member of the Astartes guard? I am not beholden to you, and she is in my charge now, so she is no longer either. Tell your lord if he so wishes to continue this nonsense he can do so with me. Now leave unless you wish a more physical understanding of my words.”

The warning was understood and the men scattered, and after a moment the crowd that had gathered went about their daily lives. Sounds of a busy community returned.

Titus turned to you, his hand still upon you. He knelled so he might be close to your eyes, “Hello, Little One. I am Lieutenant Titus, of the Ultra Marines. Would you allow me to carry you back to our fortress? You are safe. I give you my word.”

What choice did you have? None really. He could crush you with no effort, and you were dead anyhow. You just hoped when he decided to end you, it would be quick, and he would spare your baby.

You nodded, but sob quietly, “My Lord...I...” you were ashamed, “I soiled myself, I would not want that on you.”

Titus smiled, “Hush now,” he spoke cradling you in one arm and standing, “Far worse has been on me. There is no shame. I will see you get some clean clothes, food in your belly, and a Medicae Mortus to see to you.”

A soft chuckled rose from him, it was unnerving, yet comforting. This angel, was being so kind to an undeserving serf like you.

“Our Apothecaries are not specialized in baseline human needs. I am not even sure they know how babies are made, or how they grow inside you. But ask them about how to deal with a wound from a spawn of the warp? Collect gene-seed? Well then they don't shut up.”

You looked up at him with some confusion, “you do not know where babies come from?”

Titus felt warm suddenly, and adverted his gaze, “I mean. Well. It was not something they deemed important for us to know.”

You could only hum a response. Resting in his powerful harm. Held so delicately and carefully. It was dangerous. You knew this, but it was still the safest you felt in months and your worn body, gave out and forced you into a sleep that was deeply needed.

[scriberye]

A Secret Held Tight (3/?)

────────── DEMETRIAN TITUS x F!READER x CATO SICARIUS ⚠️ Romance, Pregnant!Reader Weeks after a night of celebrations, you find yourself pregnant and ready to run, only to have your plans thwarted by Titus who vows to keep you safe. Now you must navigate the complexities of falling in love, and the scrutiny of Captain Cato Sicarius. a/n: Cato makes his appearance! This could probably do with another round of editing since I was writing it between dungeon queues. chp. one / chp. two

You awaken slowly, groggy and disoriented, as the events of last night come flooding back. Your body is heavy, and your spirit drained. With a weary sigh, you sit up, a sudden wave of nausea hitting you. You clutch your stomach as you fight through it. Thankfully, nothing comes up.

Taking a moment to recover, you look around at your new quarters. The room is small and barren, save for the bed you sit on. With time and care, you could make it cozier, maybe even squeeze a bassinet in for the baby. The two doors pose a challenge though — one leads to the hall, while the other likely connects your room to Titus’.

Rising carefully, you make your way to the door and knock. There’s no response. You open it cautiously, peering inside only to find Titus’ room empty. Curious, you step through.

His room mirrors your own in its simplicity. A neatly made bed pushed up against the wall, and a desk nearby with a modest collection of books stacked in the corner, their spines worn from use.

Just as you’re about to examine the books closer, Titus enters, a tray of food balanced in his hands. He’s surprised to see you up, and he smiles. It’s awkward at best, as though he’s unsure if he’s doing it right. In truth, there haven’t been many causes to warrant smiling lately.

“Good morning,” he says, placing the tray down on his desk. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to answer him, resting a hand on your rounding belly. It wasn’t obvious yet, but you could already feel the changes. Just last night, you had steeled yourself for a life of solitude with your child. Now you were safe in the place you tried to flee — safe under an Ultramarine’s protection.

“I’m better, thank you, my lord.”

“Titus,” he corrects softly. “Please, when we’re alone, there’s no need.”

“O-of course. Titus,” you echo, testing his name on your lips. It’s strangely intimate to address him without titles, and both of you blush like bashful teenagers.

An awkward silence follows until Titus clears his throat, gesturing toward the tray. “You slept through breakfast, so I brought you some.”

“Thank you,” you say, sitting down at the desk and looking over the contents of the tray. It’s a modest feast — bread, an array of fruits, and a jug of clean water, far more than what you were accustomed to eating before. You nibble at the bread. It seemed the safest of the options for your rolling stomach.

“I informed the kitchen it was for a pregnant woman,” Titus says, sitting on the edge of his bed, “and they insisted I bring it all. You’d think I stumbled into a nest of nids with how frenzied they were.”

You laugh quietly, and Titus’ gaze softens when he looks at you. “When you’ve had your fill, you may accompany me to battle practice.”

The meal passes in silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of pages as Titus reads through the codex astartes. You eat what you can, mindful of the persistent morning sickness that kept hounding you.

Once you’re finished, you follow Titus to the training grounds. He joins his brothers, exchanging a few words as they wait for others to join. You find a bench in a cloister that’s out of the way and settle in to watch.

The respect the other marines have for Titus is obvious, even amongst the younger brothers who look at him with open admiration. You’d heard that Titus had been demoted, though the particulars remained a mystery — details a serf wasn’t privy to. Still, losing rank did nothing to reduce their respect for him.

You brush your hand over your stomach. He’ll be a great father.

With all the brothers assembled, training begins in earnest, their first drill focusing on close-quarter combat. The sounds of power armor whirring and the grunts of exertion fill the air. And Titus is magnificent. His form, stacked with muscle and powerful, moves with grace and precision from years of training. Each swing, every punch, every move is efficient, nothing is wasted.

Every so often, his gaze drifts towards you, and when your eyes meet his, your cheeks bloom with warmth and you duck your head with an embarrassed smile. A younger brother nearly gets a hit on him while he’s distracted by you, but Titus recovers with a dodge.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a figure approaching, clad in gleaming blue armor — Cato Sicarius. It’s almost theatrical how the sun glints off his armor, casting a bright reflection. His piercing gaze is locked on you, and your heart races as he gets closer.

“Serf,” he says, his voice calm, yet the way he addresses you cuts deeper than any blade. It’s like an insult. You lower your head.

“My lord,” you murmur.

“I had heard Titus took on a pregnant serf. I’m disappointed to find it true.” His eyes narrow, his eyes boring into you with a strange, unsettling familiarity. “And who is the father?”

“I-I don’t know, my lord. It’s complicated,” you stammer.

Sicarius regards you with a mixture of frustration and annoyance. He doesn’t give you a moment to collect yourself. “Complicated? How do you not know?” he presses harder, his voice low and urgent. “You must have some idea.”

Your hands tremble, and you clasp them together to keep yourself from shaking. The world seems to close in; the accusations are heavy and crush the air from your lungs. Before you can muster a response, another marine strides purposefully towards you, his face stern — Titus.

“It doesn’t matter who the father is,” he declares. “What matters is her safety and well-being, and that of the child and I will take that responsibility.”

Sicarius jerks his head to face Titus with a frown. “Titus. Remember your duty. Do not let these personal matters interfere with that.”

Titus is unwavering, a bulwark against Sicarius. “I assure you, Captain, my duties are my priority. If you take issue with my decisions, we may take this to the Primarch.”

Sicarius glances once more between you and Titus, his lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, he nods curtly. “Very well, brother,” he concedes, though his tone implies this matter is far from over. He turns and strides over to the group of marines, his voice rising in stern commands as he begins scolding and correcting their forms.

Titus sighs, relaxing as he looks down at you. “Are you alright?” he asks, jolting you back to reality.

You nod, clutching your hands protectively over your stomach. “I-I am, thank you. I feel like I can’t stop saying that…”

“There’s no need for thanks, I am happy to aid you.” Titus smiles, and this time, it seems more natural. “Do not dwell on his words, Cato has always been difficult. Come, midday meal is soon. I’ll see you to the kitchens.”

He holds out his hand, and you slip yours into his. Titus’ grip is steady and reassuring as he helps you to your help, and you take comfort in that — in him.

Later that night, after concluding evening prayer, Titus made his way towards the kitchens, planning to retrieve a meal for himself and you. He wonders what they’ll suggest you eat this time. How much did you need to eat, anyway? A million thoughts race through his mind as he rounds a corner.

From behind a column, a figure emerges and Titus stops, watching as the person hurries to him. It’s a serf, one he recognizes as serving Cato Sicarius. This can’t be good.

“Lord Titus,” the serf begins, his voice hushed and heavy with fear. “I have something important I must tell you, concerning your serf.”

Titus straightens, snapping to attention. “Speak.”

The serf hesitates, casting worried glances around as if someone might overhear him. Walls of the fortress had ears. “Captain Sicarius is the father,” he blurts out, eyes wide with fear. “I-I saw him leaving my chambers that night, and when I entered, I found her.”

A heavy silence falls upon them, thick and oppressive, as the revelation hangs in the air. The tension stretches into a long, suffering stillness. The serf wrings his hands in an attempt to calm his nerves, searching Titus’ face for any sign of emotion — and finds none.

Finally, Titus speaks, his voice cold and measured. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

With a hasty bow, the serf scurries away, gone as quickly as he appeared, leaving Titus alone with his turbulent thoughts. Titus breathes deep, his nostrils flaring. His fists clench at his sides, the knuckles turning white from the force.

That bastard.

🏷️ @danart501

[deleteddewewted]

Learning Control

MDNI

NSFW

S: Titus is learning new things about himself, especially that he does in fact have a sex drive now that he's been given some time to rest which is a rarity for him. A serf who has shown him nothing but kindness since she started working for the Ultramarines has caught his eye and now he can't help but wonder what it would be like to taste her. To have her. Low and behold Titus finds that the feeling is mutual and he is put to the greatest test. Controlling himself as this lovely serf makes use of his dick for the first time in his entire life.

W: Dom! Reader, Sub! Reader, Virgin! Titus, Cockwarming, Riding, Serf! Reader, Age Gap (Only in the sense that Titus is 300+ and Reader is in their 20's - 30's+)

Titus didnt know that Astartes could feel sexual pleasure in any capacity. He had spent the entirety of his life never having a desire to masturbate or even have sex with anyone before so when he started experiencing episodes of great physical restlessness, he thought he had come down with some kind of illness. He tried fixing the issue on his own. His hands would rub against his penis in an attempt to hide his growing issue but the more he did the harder he became and he grew frustrated. He eventually went to an apothecary when the issue persisted and he was walking uncomfortably.

The apothecary, rolling its eyes at him, explained that his affliction was a baseline want. This initially distressed him, he didn't know what to do nor did he want to find out if he would enjoy releasing his problem. Would it mean he was defective as an angel of death? Did the Rubicon surgery go awry with him? He had no idea.

He didn't try to release himself until he met you. You had been cleaning his room, and as you moved about as he waited patiently for you to finish, he noticed the way your clothes hung over your body. He couldn't help but inspect the way your nipples perked and poked at the fabric of your cloak or the way your body arched as you cleaned below his bed. He desired you more than anything else in this world and the more time he watched you the more his desire grew.

He started following you more often than you followed him or his brothers. He began starting conversations with you in hopes that maybe your voice would grant him some relief from his ever present issue. He had you sit on his lap after you where done cleaning his chambers. He would ask to hold you just to inhale your scent to then in the privacy of his chambers rut into his mattress in search of some relief. He allowed you to clean his face from sweat and dirt just to be able to feel your skin against his own. All of this culminated into the day he would ask you to fuck him once though he didn't know how to ask for this exactly. He approached you and asked you for some personal assistance with an issue of his and once in his chambers, with the door closed shut and locked, he took of his armor and peeled off his body suit. His cock sprung out, the tip red and dripping with cum already. His balls were full and hung heavy as he removed his clothes.

"Please... aid me, y/n." He begged. His voice almost came out as a whine as he bucked his hips at you in hopes you would know what to do. Thankfully for him you did. You began to slowly pump his cock and watched as the once fearsome warrior reduced into nothing but a groaning moaning mess.

You eventually found yourself cockwarming him. You had him sit at his desk and read the codex while you rolled your hips and seeked your own relief while forcing him to remain composed. He bucked and let out breathy moans as you moved.

“My heart, please…. Tell me what to do.” He would moan out. He would beg, face flushed and fucked out.

“Fuck! I’m cumming! Let me-“

“No, be patient Titus.” You argued. And so you sat there, unmoving until his orgasm dissipated. Titus whimpered as your walls tightened around him. You were torture. He loved it but he wished he wasn’t so inexperienced so he could make you feel just as good.

You began to bounce up and down his cock just as he started reading again. You ordered him to read out loud so that you may also learn but you could care less. You searched for your own high as his dick split you in half. He was thick and it made you feel over filled with every thrust. The sound of your ass meeting his thighs turned you on even more. Titus, not being able to stop himself, placed his hand on your stomach just to push you back against his chest. He was close and he begged in between breaths.

“Please….Please…..!” He gasped as he came. He buried himself deeper inside of you, filling you insides with his thick cum. He didn’t want to pull out, you were just so warm and your body was just so welcoming.

You were spent and tired, your legs shook as you tried composing yourself post orgasm. You turned your head and kissed him which he reciprocates back. You both stayed there until you felt like you could walks again and he could steel his expression so he could afec his brothers again. He licked you clean, his tongue rough on your pussy but ever so welcoming as it cleaned the cum that spilled out of you. He went to shower but before he did he promised to properly court you. That he wanted more from you and he hoped you’d want more from him as well.

[sepulcher666]

Demetrian Titus x Reader

Writing Exercise: Sleep

He looked so peaceful in sleep. It was the only sleep he would get before their next campaign on some…far flung world in the ultimate segmentum.

You cradled his head as it rested on your strong thighs.

You should be getting sleep too, but something keeps you awake. Was it how you were disturbed at the age becoming ever more present on his face despite him being so young for a space marine? Only 175?

You were partially lucid as you stared down at him, feeling his head of hair brush slightly on your skin. He looked to be at peace…peace he would get in short bursts in the Emperors Service.

You wanted better for him. You wanted better for you both, but your duties took you elsewhere, far far apart from each other. You needed him to an extent, and he needed you. He clung so strongly to the fragile brotherhood in his deathwatch squad.

You wondered why he stuck so close to you when he saw you were, like him, similarly cast out from your kin.

“Why are you still awake?” He asked, voice still dry from sleep. It was gentle, authoritative , yet needy.

“I…” you could not find an answer.

He got up from your lap and pulled you into his bosom. You rested your head against his chest, smelling the familiar musk of death and blood that so eagerly clung to him.

“Sleep.” He rumbled. And soon enough, you fell asleep to the steady rhythm of his two heartbeats and the furnace-like warmth of his body.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Aranea posuere ultricies

Author’s note: this fic has been inspired by @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond ‘s pocket titus sketches! Please check out her art! Thank you for letting me write this

Warnings: spiders, spider-killing, please ask me to tag if something bothers you/I missed it

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Summary: You acquire a small but fierce protector

You were fumbling with the keys to your front door, holding them in hand as you try to unlock your front door. As you attempt to put the key inside the lock, a large black spider slides down a hair-thin spider silk thread, nearly landing in your face.

You let out a startled shriek of surprise, stumbling backwards as fear and panic grip you. Your heart hammering in the back of your throat and adrenaline causing your body to tremble and freeze as you try to figure out what to do.

The black spider twists on the thin string of spider silk, revealing a bright red hourglass marking on it's abdomen.

More anxiety fills you as you clock that this is a venomous spider - one that could make you quite ill, if it bit you.

The best thing to do would be to somehow non-lethally move this Black Widow away from your door and place it somewhere in your garden... But you have no way of doing so without having to get into your home first...

Which would mean dodging the spider still dangling at eye level. You swallow dryly, still struggling to figure out what to do (and a small part of you feeling very silly about your panic) but you didn't want the spider to potentially crawl onto you, if you tried to dodge around it in order to get into your home.

Before you could make a decision, you felt a pair of tiny but heavy pair of feet land on one of your shoulders before the unexpected weight left you just as quickly.

A tiny Astartes yelled out what he clearly thought was a fierce battle cry "COURAGE AND HONOR!" as he swung a teeny-tiny hammer at the abdomen of the black widow that had been menacing you.

The blow struck true and spider guts splattered over several square inches of your front door.

You unfroze in time to carefully catch the little blue and gold colored tiny Astartes before he fell the rest of the way to the ground - or left a dent in your front door. "Thank you, my lord, for rescuing me." You murmur, having heard from co-workers and online posts how to best appease these tiny but fierce warriors.

The Astartes squeaks and wriggles in your hands in surprise "unhand me, mortal! I must continue my duties."

"As you wish. I was concerned about the fall relative to your size. Would you like something to eat in thanks for rescuing me?" You ask, carefully setting the tiny warrior down on the ground.

He stares up at you through his helmet for several seconds before answering "... Food would be most welcome... And I have fallen further than this. Your concern is..." he hesitates for a couple of moments before continuing "Welcome but unnecessary. Food would be gratefully accepted. I have not eaten in some time."

You nod, unlocking and opening your front door "After you." You murmur, not wanting to accidentally step on him "Unless you'd grant me the honor of carrying you to the kitchen?"

The small marine looked at your entryway, tensing as your cat - a loveable and very chatty coal black cat came trotting up to where you and he were standing with his usually creaky "Mreau!"

"I would like to be carried. Ideally on one of your shoulders, or in a hand or a chest pocket." The tiny marine declares, his helmet still pointed in your cat's direction.

Dixie sniffed curiously at the Astartes, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth.

You bend down and place one hand next to the marine so that he could climb up at his own pace. You reach out with your other hand to pet Dixie "Easy there, Dix. No mischief with our guest." And now you realize that you had yet to ask for the Astartes' name... Or give your own. "Would you like to share your name with me?" You give him your name "I apologize for not introducing myself earlier." You add.

"... I am Lieutenant Demetrian Titus of the Ultramarines Second Company." Titus answers after a few moments of hesitation. He removes his helmet, revealing a weathered and scarred but kind (and handsome) face with soulful greenish-blue eyes and short brown hair that frame his face. He climbs up onto your hand.

You set him on one of your shoulders and quickly move through your home to your kitchen. You set the lieutenant down on your kitchen counter before starting to rummage through the fridge, asking "Is there anything in particular you'd like? I have some left-over taco stuff, pasta with spaghetti, sandwich fixings... I also have some Ice cream and cookies, if you prefer something sweeter."

"I am unfamiliar with those food items. Astartes can eat nearly anything..." The little being answered, shifting a little as he answered "But I have been traveling for some time, and a hot meal would be a welcome indulgence."

You nod and grab two bowls as you're hungry too. You make sure that the bowl for the lieutenant is shallower so that he can better reach inside of it. A quick couple of minutes in the microwave and both bowls of food are steaming hot.

Titus ate quickly shoving handfuls of pasta and sauce into his mouth with his armored gauntlets "This is delicious, thank you."

You hum and smile "I'm glad you like it. Would you like some water to wash it down? I'm about to get myself some water, anyways."

"Water would be helpful. I need to clean my armor, as well as drink." Titus answers, before focusing once again on the food.

~

Weeks had passed and Titus, while he regularly wandered off, had become a regular member of your household.

Currently you were holding him in one hand, having helped the Astartes reach one of the insects encroaching on your property.

He looked so adorably pleased with himself you couldn't help it. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, murmuring "Thank you, for saving me from these awful bugs, Demetrian. Your swift movements and firm strikes slew the enemy handily."

Demetrian blushed, tucking his chin to his armored chest as he hands came up, flailing a little "I... I am merely doing my duty..."

"And you do it well, my lovely Angel." You earnestly compliment.

The Astartes blushes more and looks away from your face at your words, clearly struggling to regain his composure.

You chuckle softly and kiss the top of his head, murmuring "Too much praise, my knight-savior?"

"Yes... But... I... I crave it as well. I must... I must atone for this sin." Titus mumbled, still not looking up at you.

"... It's not a sin to enjoy the praise you get, Demetrian." You point out gently.

The tiny Ultramarine in your hand huffs a little before settling into your hand, mumbling in a language that you do not know, still blushing.

[druidwolf21]

So I've only done 3 little stories so far, but I just want to thank everyone who's read them and shared them and hearted them, I really appreciate the feedback I've got and I hope you guys continue to enjoy them, please message me if there's anything in particular you want as well!! Big love❤️

[lemon-russ]

Armor kink go brrrrrrrrrt

I'm such a sucker for like, baseline gets threatened and attacker immediately mulched by marines

Hhhhhh protective astartes

Hhhhhhhhhh Titus fightimg his braim over his feelings and being obsessed

Just

Hhhhhhhhhhhhhh ✨️

Oh my gosh, I just saw your post about requests being open again and I am honestly embarrassed about how excited I got. Now I just have to choose which one... which one... Aha!

I am in DESPERATE need of a White Knight Captain Titus fic. Something where he swoops in and saves a fem-reader from a horrible fate. Please give my sweet blueberry boy some good old fashioned romance. He deserves it.

(I will leave the NSFW level up to you, but I wouldn't be opposed if things got very spicy.)

Author's note: I am so sorry about this taking so long, life is kicking my ass; Also maybe not the most horrible fate, but I digress

Relationships: Titus/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Grinding/Dry humping, Armor kink, Clothed sex

“Thank you, Titus.”

Those three words could inspire him do a frightening amount of things, Titus has learned quite quickly.

They drip from your lips like the sweetest, saccharine song, always with a smile. Whether it's an Inquisitor interrupting you, a handsy lord, or the pitter patter of rain threatening to ruin your hair, Titus hears those words not moments after swooping to your rescue.

He had felt so guilty of your over respect that he'd told you of his struck record, his accusations. You'd replied that none of it mattered to you- that he seemed no less than an honorable and valiant Ultramarine. Those words fanned his pride like hot embers waiting for kindling, and Titus preened like a flashy bird under your praise. The praise of a baseline might mean nothing to his brothers, but to him, yours was everything.

It was everything he'd ever needed, and wanted.

Its in the incense choked air of the chapel that he remembers the moment a rogue trader pulled a bolter on you. The deal his captain had given you to negotiate had been tough, and your lips had fumbled oh so slightly, sending negotiations into a spiral downwards. Even your most valiant efforts couldn't save it; but when that man pulled his bolter on you, something in him broke.

That man didn't survive the moments after, and his fellow Ultramarines had cleaned up the rest.

Titus removes that thought from his mind with a literal head shake, one that causes his ear to ring a bit just for a moment.

He wants to go see you.

He knows you're fine, this ship is the safest place you could be bar none, but yet there is this tug on his hearts that demands he go to you. Like he needs to visually see you with his own eyes before he can finally cast that accursed remembrance aside. He wishes he had never remembered it in the first place- though it's an impossible wish for an astartes.

Tracking you down to a dark spot in the Ultramarine Librarium. You're casually perusing, eyeing the tomes at your level before catching sight of him. The way you light up fans the embers of Titus' pride once more, setting them aflame.

"Titus! What are you doing here?"

He instantly comes closer, breaching into your personal space of which you allow with no complaint. Your perfumed scent mixed with your natural scent wafts around him, as you look up at him with a soft expression.

"I missed you." Titus speaks bluntly and truthfully- though it's only half of said truth. Your face blooms into a smile at the sound of his voice.

"I missed you too, Titus."

You always say his name so differently, there's a softness to it- so unlike how most speak his name with disdain. They bring him in like some sort of lure, the still foreign feeling of his lips against your own. Even if he's already kissed you a countless number of times, it still feels off. Like parts of his brain are trying to lock the things he's discovered in his mind once more.

His lips dance with yours, his slightly larger mouth awkwardly pressing against yours. It may not be the perfect elegant kiss you read in your hidden novels, bound in solid black to keep the contents secret, but the passion is sevenfold. The soft mewls from your throat he greedily swallows, feeling the way your hands wrap in the hair at the nape of his neck. The feeling on your fingers grasping it makes him groan, the pain is so light but just enough to make his hearts hitch.

His massive gauntlets slide down the curve of your back to cup your ass, bunching the fabric of your dress. If he moved a bit more inward, you could feel his fingers against your cunt. Your back scrapes against the shelves behind you, knocking books out of alignment.

"There are others here, Titus,"

You whisper against his lips, feeling one of his gauntlets pulling away to your front in order to barge it's way between your thighs. The feeling makes you whimper- even if it's his unfeeling armor, even if it's through layers of clothing, your deprived senses delight in the sensation enough that your hips jerk forward of their own volition.

"They're all servitors or servoskulls, anyone who is normally in here left to listen to our chapter Librarian speak."

His lips brush against the corner of your mouth, and that hesitation no matter how minute is brushed away by the heat of his breath over your skin- the tickle of his lip scar.

"I cannot remove my armor for another two cycles, but allow me to have something I can look forward to."

He wants to hear the noises you make; the ones just for him. His duty according to his captains might be to just protect you from physical harm, but in his hearts tending to your whims is just as important.

He needs you to want him. Command anything of him, it's bred into his DNA to serve to his utmost. If only so you'll continue to look at him with such reverence.

"T-Titus,"

You feel your knees tremble but Titus holds you up, ruthlessly pressing the cold, firm plates of his armor against your soaked pussy through layers of clothes. You can feel the way your underwear is soaked, how your outer lips slide against each other slick with your own arousal, clit throbbing as you try to angle your hips just right-

His hand presses against you harder, rocking with your jerky hips. Your hands grip the collar of his armor trying to stay steady, grinding yourself against his palm like lust has consumed every one of your thought processes. Your thighs part trying to find that perfect angle, abandoning any fear of discovery for the sensation of his unyielding armor between your legs.

"M-move your hand like-"

Your breath fans across his armor, face radiating heat as he watches you with a ruthless stare. Your knees wobble and give out from under you, but Titus catches you and makes sure you move barely an inch.

You tug at his wrist and he arches his palm upward, so it's more diagonal than flat. It presses against your clit now as you grind against him harder, quicker- even through your clothes it has you shaking, knees finally giving out with a whimper as you come.

The fractured whimper you let out is nearly pathetic, breath hitching in your throat as your cunt constricts and flutters around nothing at all.

A disappointing reality, but you know his dilemma; this can be not unlike a snack to just barely keep you from starving.

"Thank you," You joke breathlessly, hands grasping the collar of his armor. There's just so much of him, the way he can overtake your entire vision is overwhelming.

"I know."

"I would never let you fall."

He speaks with his normal stoic neutrality, but there's just the slightest tilt of softness behind it. You laugh.

[beckyninja]

Accused

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemReader (sort of)

Warnings: mob violence

Description: While serving in the DeathWatch, Titus meets the woman who will come to mean more to him than he ever thought.

Another long prequel for you guys! This one takes place some time before the events of Revelation.

You ran.

Gravel crunched beneath your boots as you fled down the dry stream bed. High ravine walls on either side blocked the moonlight. You fled blind, guided only by memory. It wasn’t enough.

You slammed into an unseen boulder. Momentum hurled you forward onto the ground, skin scraping from your hands and knees. You let out a short cry, then froze.

Did they hear?

You strained your ears and heard nothing. But that did not comfort you. Your pursuers had spent lifetimes hunting wary prey in these mountains. Still, after a few minutes of stillness, you began to hope.

 Perhaps they’ve given up.

From your prone position, you fought to see through the darkness ahead. The Angels’ ship. Your only chance of salvation. It had to be there!

You opened your mouth to scream. “Help m-”

Hands clamped onto your face and shoulders. You bit and struggled as they lifted you off the ground, dragging you backwards.

A high, mad laugh chilled your blood.

“You will burn, Heretic! Burn!”

***

The Day Before

“Father Cortez, this insanity must end!”

You stood outside the village’s little church, shawl pulled tight against your shoulders, and glared at the priest. He glared back. His red-rimmed eyes seemed to burn within their sockets. Blood stained his robes.

He’s been flogging himself again.

Your lips twisted. “How many more must die before you admit the uselessness of-”

“Silence!” Spittle sprayed from the priest’s mouth. “How dare you challenge me, girl!”

You sighed. Only a few years older than you, and yet he called you “girl.” You looked around at the crowd of villagers milling uneasily. Men, women, and children worn ragged by the terror of the past few months. Their eyes flickered between you and the priest.

“Friends,” you smiled, “for four generations the women of my family have tended your hurts, healed your sick, and delivered your children. I may be young. But I studied at the feet of my mother and grandmother before me. You trusted them.” 

“Will you not trust me?”

Marta, the elderly church caretaker, finally spoke. “What would you have us do, Healer?”

You nodded to her. “We must send someone down-mountain, into the city. We must call for aid-”

“No!” The Priest shrieked. “These attacks are a test sent from the God-Emperor Himself! To purify and strengthen our faith!”

Your temper frayed. “And does the Emperor use xenos monsters as his instruments now, Father? Does He demand we sacrifice humans to them? Innocents?”

“Heretics!”

“Was little Carlos a heretic, Cortez? At seven years old?” You pushed through the crowd to point a finger directly in his face. “Was Old Inez, who never went a day without praying in this very church?” 

You straightened your spine and loomed over the little man. “With each villager bound and left for these beasts, you promised they would leave. Have they? No!” You spun back to face the crowd. “Because they are no punishment! They are-”

A metallic roar cut off your words. From over the peaks surrounding the village, came a ship the likes of which you had never seen. The crowd shrieked and scattered as it hovered directly over their heads. For a minute it lingered there, sending dust-filled wind whipping through the square. Then, it rose once again and veered toward the south, beyond the ravine.

You stood amidst chaos. In front of you, families dove into their homes and slammed the doors behind them. Behind you, Father Cortez ranted and raved.

Upon the side of the ship a symbol had been carved: A skull and crossbones over an elaborate “I”. 

Hope flickered in your heart.

***

“What are they?” Marta whimpered from her place next to you.

You peered through the church’s dirty window. An hour or so after the ship flew over the village, a few hunters had heard heavy footfalls coming up the ravine. For the second time that day people locked themselves within their huts and prayed to the Emperor.

It seemed He had finally heard them.

“The Emperor’s Angels.” You breathed.

“You’re sure?”

You nodded. “My great-grandmother saw one once, my grandmother told me.”

Giants in armor who brought salvation to the faithful and destruction to the enemy.

They were certainly giant. But the Angel in your grandmother’s story had worn brightly colored armor, whereas these wore black. You squinted through the grime and could just make out a couple of insignias painted on the massive shoulders: some sort of canine head and a stylized cross.

One bore no insignia at all. A red hood covered his helmet. You watched him gesture to the others. 

“What are they doing here?” Marta’s voice shook.

“I think… I hope they might be-”

“It is none of our concern!”

Father Cortez’s bony hands gripped your and Marta’s shoulders. He dragged you backwards with surprising strength. The older woman tumbled to the floor with a pained cry. You knelt to help her, shooting the priest a look of disgust.

He ignored you. “Whatever they are here for, we should leave them to it.”

“And what if they’re here to help us?”

“We need no such help! The Emperor provides!”

“By the Throne,” you pressed your hands to your eyes, “yes. You’re right, Father. And He has provided.”

You pointed out the window. “There is His provision! Walking down our main street!”

“What… what are you going to do?” Marta whispered.

“If they are here to stop the xenos,” you muttered, half to yourself, “then they need to know about the earthquake, and the cave up on Black Peak.”

The priest cackled. “And what makes you so sure they don’t already know, girl?”

“Cortez!” You whirled on him. “Enough with the ‘girl’! I remember when you were a pimple-faced brat who delighted in pulling the legs off insects.”

If anything, you’ve only gotten worse since your ordination.

The priest drew back into the corner of the smoky church.

“Yes, go sulk and leave me be.” You took a deep breath and made for the door.

Marta shrilled your name. You waved the old woman’s concerns away, clinging to what little courage you’d managed to gather.

“I’m going to help, if I can.”

***

Idiot. Idiot! Throne damned, idiot! 

Five helmeted heads had turned your way when you pushed open the church’s door and stepped into the square. A wave of dread washed over you, every primal instinct you possessed screaming at you to run.

Oh Throne, they’re so… big!

You knew large animals. Before the attacks began, the village had made its living hunting the lumbering beasts that lived among the peaks and ravines. Once you’d even seen one of the great predatory felines.

This moment reminded you of that encounter. But, instead of dashing back to safety, you continued toward the predators. You kept your hands held out in front of you.

I’m no threat. A hysterical laugh threatened to burst from your lips. As if these behemoths would ever consider me one!

When you’d gotten within twenty feet, the Angel in the red hood raised a hand, palm facing you. He didn’t speak, but you felt the command as if he’d shouted. You halted, dropping to your knees and bowing your head.

You doubted your trembling legs would have carried you much farther, anyway.

An odd hissing, crackling noise seemed to come from the Angels’ direction. You didn’t dare look up as footsteps approached.

“Rise.”

The deep voice shook you from the inside out. You gasped and tried to comply, only for your legs to give out. A great, armored gauntlet grasped your upper arm, steadying you. You looked up into the lenses of the hooded Angel’s helmet.

For an instant, you swore you met his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, then, against all reason, calmed.

He won’t hurt me.

You didn’t know where the conviction came from. You just knew it to be true.

“Who are you?”

You told him your name. “I…I am the Healer of this village.” You remembered your grandmother’s story and hastily added, “M-my Lord.”

“Are you alone here?”

“N-no, my Lord. The others are afraid.”

A laugh, almost a bark, came from one of the other Angels. “And ye are not? Plucky little lass.”

Another gave a growl. “Commander, we should not linger.”

The Commander never looked away from you. “Do you know why we are here?”

“I…,” you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself, “I hope you are here to help us, my Lord. Against the xenos.”

A soft intake of breath, as if in surprise. “What do you know of xenos?”

“My great-grandmother came to this world on a refugee ship, my Lord. She told my grandmother of the Enemies of Mankind and their horrors.” 

Silence, except for that hissing, crackling noise again.

You swallowed, desperation making you bold. “Please, my Lord, I think I can help.”

***

“... after the earthquake, some of our hunters reported a new cave opening up on Black Peak. A few boys decided to explore it. They never returned.” 

You scampered over another boulder on the trail. You’d climbed this path dozens of times in your life, but it had become more difficult since the quake. Your foot slipped on a patch of loose shale.

Once again, an armored hand reached out to steady you. You smiled up at the Commander. Strange, the others still unnerved you, but not him. 

“Thank you, my Lord.”

He gave the barest nod. “Continue.”

“Well, that night the attacks began. They only ever come after dark, and they only ever take one person. Oh.”

Just ahead, an entire rock formation had collapsed on the trail. You watched the other Angels step over the rubble with minimal effort, and looked for a way to do the same. Suddenly, you felt hands at your waist.

The Commander lifted you like a child, settling you in the crook of one arm as he jumped the obstacle. One of the other Angels, the one with the canine head on his pauldron, looked back and chuckled.

“Oh! Um, thank you again, my Lord.” 

You waited for him to set you on your feet. He didn’t, continuing up the mountain path.

“It will be faster this way.” 

“I don’t want to be a burden.” You blurted.

“You are not. Continue.”

“R-right. Um, yes. The survivors say the creatures are like great insects, but made of metal.”

“Mmm.”

You wracked your memory for anything else. “Their eyes… they glowed green.” 

The giant carrying you stiffened. You had no time to wonder about it before you spotted a great black opening in the mountainside far above you.

“There it is!”

The hissing, crackling noise again. All five Angels came to a halt, peering up at the cavern. The Commander placed you on the ground.

“Go back.”

You nodded. On the one hand, you were glad to be away. On the other…

“Will you be alright?”

You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. One of the Angels guffawed, the sound starting a few small rock slides in the distance. You felt another’s glare like a brand on your skin.

“Of all the insolent-”

The Commander held up a hand, silencing him. “We will be fine. Go.”

You turned, shame heating your face, when he spoke again, softer than before. “My thanks.”

***

Halfway down the trail, you heard explosions, followed by rumbling chatter you assumed came from the Angels weapons. Plumes of smoke rose from the Peak.

God-Emperor, protect your Angels as they do battle in Your name.

Especially the kind one. 

Your cheeks heated again and you scrambled back down the path. Would he remember you? You doubted it. Just an insignificant girl from an insignificant village on an insignificant world. You, however, would remember him for the rest of your life.

Another story to tell your own children, one day.

Without the Commander to carry you over the taller obstacles, it took the rest of the day to return to the village. The sun had begun to set. You smiled. Only yesterday the thought of being out after dark would have sent you sprinting in terror. But now…

You nearly skipped down the last stretch of path. You were hungry, thirsty, and tired. But you could not wait to tell your friends the news. They no longer needed to be afraid. No more need be sacrificed to the monsters in the dark.

Your mood soured at that thought. 

None needed to be sacrificed in the first place.

Hopefully, now that the danger was past, the villagers would see how twisted Father Cortez had become. Perhaps you could rally them, convince them to send him back to the city. The village could request a new spiritual leader.

The streets were deserted. You heard voices in the direction of the church. A strange red glow seemed to emanate from that direction as well. A celebration? You smiled and broke into a run. You had much to celebrate.

A bonfire blazed in the center of the square. Father Cortez stood before it, gesticulating wildly. Before him every villager in the settlement watched with rapt attention. 

As you neared, you began to make out his words.

“...Emperor, in His mercy, sent His angels to relieve our suffering!”

Finally, something you and I agree on, Cortez.

“But the stain of heresy still remains!”

You jerked to a halt at the rear of the crowd. 

What?!

“We must find the true cause of our afflictions and cleanse it through flame! Lest the monsters return to ravage us once more!”

To your horror, the crowd murmured in assent. You noticed their postures, the looks in their eyes, and wondered what lies Cortez had been pouring in their ears during your absence. They reminded you of nothing so much as a herd of panicked prey animals.

But you’d calmed them before.

You began to move through the crowd. You smiled at the people you knew as friends, people your family had done nothing but help for four generations. Most refused to meet your gaze. Some glared, firelight dancing in their eyes.

Cortez saw you.

“There!” He shrieked. “The one who denied the Emperor’s justice! The dissenter! The trouble-maker! The outsider!” His lips curled back into a feral snarl. “The Heretic!”

You looked once more into the faces of the villagers around you. What you saw there chilled your blood.

You ran.

***

Present

“No!” You struggled in the grasp of the mob, searching desperately for a friendly face. “Lonzo, Maria, Berto! You know me! Help me!”

“Heretic! Heretic! Heretic!”

The damning chant pounded in your skull. Hands clawed at you, raking your skin and tearing at your clothes. You felt a hunk of your hair yanked out. A fist struck you in the face, followed by blows to the ribs and stomach. You heaved, tasting blood.

“Bring her here!” Cortez’s voice screamed out above the noise.

The mob threw you onto the ground before the bonfire. Its heat scorched your bloodied skin. One eye swelled closed, but you could still see Cortez standing above you. The firelight made him look like a daemon out of his own sermons.

You gritted your teeth and rocked up onto your knees. “Bastard! If there is someone to be blamed for all our misery, it’s you!”

His boot met the side of your head. You collapsed back into the dirt, ears ringing.

All around you, faces you recognized. Maria, whose twins you’d helped your mother deliver. Berto, who you’d spent weeks nursing through a fever. Lonzo, who had danced with you at the last midwinter festival. 

You saw Marta and reached out a hand. She spit on it.

“Why?” You whispered through split lips.

If you’d made it to the Angels’ ship, if they’d told everyone how you helped, would it have even made a difference? Or would Cortez have simply waited for them to leave before he accused you?

Accused. 

The priest pointed down at you.

Accused.

The crowd roared for blood.

Accused.

You felt yourself dragged upright and shoved toward the bonfire. You didn’t fight. You had no fight left. 

“Burn her! Burn her! Burn her!”

You closed your eyes.

“Enough!”

Everything went silent save for the crackle of the flames. The hands released you, and you crumpled to the ground once again. You heard the familiar tread of armored feet. Then gauntleted hands lifted you gently, so very gently, and you looked into a hooded, helmeted face.

I’m safe.

The Commander towered above the cowering mob. Dimly, you heard Cortez babbling something, sounding as if he’d gone truly insane. The Commander shifted you to one arm.

You watched him reach down and lift the gibbering priest by his collar. 

“Fool.”

With an almost casual flick of his arm, the Angel tossed the priest on his own bonfire.

***

You awoke to the light of dawn. You lay on a hard, metallic surface, some kind of cloth draped over your body. Confusion clouded your thoughts, and you tried to sit up.

Pain shot through every limb.

“Easy, easy now.” A voice soothed. “Here, drink this.”

Some kind of cup was brought to your lips and you drank, coughing at the acrid taste. The pain began to fade. You blinked and looked around.

An older woman knelt at your side. She was clothed in a black robe with the symbol of a canine head stitched on its shoulder. Three scars, like the mark of a claw, ridged her cheek and gave her a fearsome look.

But her eyes were kind when she smiled.

“Better?”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” The woman patted your shoulder with a broad, rough hand. “I’m no apothecary, but I do know how to mix the odd painkiller in a pinch. Can ye stand?”

She helped you to your feet. You looked around, realizing you stood in the belly of the ship you’d seen fly over yesterday. The Angel’s ship.

Throne, was it only yesterday?

A ramp lay open to the ground outside. Through the dawn glare, you recognized the rocky ravine. A shudder ran through you.

The woman noticed. “Aye. We’re still on your rock of a homeworld.” She spat. “Allfather curse it!”

Your head spun. “How? Why?”

She patted your shoulder. “I’m sure the Commander will explain. He’s a decent sort, for a Black Shield.” She gave you an odd, knowing smile. “I think you’ll find yer a lucky one after all.”

“I don’t-”

“Frigg!” A familiar voice bellowed. “Curse it, woman! Is the lass awake yet?”

The woman snorted and stood. “Aye, she is, m’lord!” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, aye, yer lucky. Lucky the Commander picked ye instead of him.”

“Bring her out, then!”

The woman, Frigg, fussed over you. “Now, ye be a good lass and do as yer told and ye’ll be fine. Go on with ye.”

Head spinning, you staggered down the ramp. Four of the Angels stood clustered off to one side, surrounding a crate of some sort. They all looked much the same as you had seen them before. Perhaps a few more dents in their armor.

The one with the canine insignia barked a laugh as you appeared. He elbowed the one with the cross insignia, who growled under his breath.

“Waste of time.”

“Hah! Simmer down, Templar. The Commander led us to a good fight. If he wants a new little serf girl out of it, what is the harm, eh?”

Serf?

“Brother Ulfar, Brother Beren. Load the artifact onto the Thunder Hawk.”

The Commander appeared from the other side of the ship. He didn’t have his hooded cloak. With a start, you realized it was draped over your shoulders. Your face burned and you hurried down the ramp as quickly as you could, holding it out toward him.

You tripped. Yet again, he steadied you.

“Clumsy.” The word held no anger.

“I’m so sorry, my Lord. I just…I just wanted to…” you sighed, giving up. “Thank you.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then he reached up and removed his helmet. 

You almost stopped breathing. His face was a mass of scars. Metal studs of some kind dotted one side of his forehead. His lips curved in a stoic frown. You felt you should be frightened.

But his eyes…

Warm and weary and sad. They looked down into yours.

“You cannot return to your home.”

All of a sudden, everything threatened to overwhelm you. You covered your face with your hands. Tears spilled down your cheeks.

“F-forgive me, m-my Lord. I-”

“You have shown courage.”

You did not feel especially courageous in the moment. He continued.

“I would have you come with me.”

You gasped and stared up at him through the blur of tears. Brother Ulfar’s words came back to you.

“As a… a serf?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what that means, my Lord.”

He explained. You would tend to his quarters and armor, cleaning, mending, and performing whatever menial work was required. 

“In return, you will be fed, clothed, and educated.” He hesitated, then to your astonishment, sank to one knee. “And I swear by my oath as an Ultra- as an Astartes, I will never let you come to harm again.”

You shook your head. “Why?”

He didn’t seem to mind that you’d forgotten to add “my Lord”. “I know the pain of a false accusation. I know how deep betrayal can cut. I,” he looked almost bashful, “would spare you some of that pain, if I can.”

By the Throne, you saw empathy in those eyes. Frigg had been right. He was a decent man.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and took a deep breath. “Then I will try and serve you as best as I am able, my Lord.”  

One of the corners of his mouth ticked upward. He nodded and stood, replacing his helmet.

“Follow.”

“My Lord? One more question, if I may?”

He turned back toward you.

“May I know your name?”

Another long pause. He nodded toward the other Angels.

“They know me as ‘Nullus’. In the hearing of others, you will address me as such.” You heard a long breath. “In private, you may call me Titus.”

You didn’t know what this new life would hold, and you doubted it would be easy. But one thing you were certain of.

You would follow Titus anywhere.

@remembrancer-of-heresy @solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@bispecsual @kit-williams @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus @lemon-russ

@justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen

@passionofthesith

Once again, please comment if you'd like to be tagged in any further work.

[shellswritesstuff]

𓊆ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴛʀɪᴀɴ ᴛɪᴛᴜs X ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ - general hc/drabble𓊇 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚(⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴. 𝘯𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹. 𝘤𝘸: 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘧𝘢𝘣!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘯. 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘴.

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʜɪ ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ. sᴘᴀᴄᴇ ᴍᴀʀɪɴᴇ ɪɪ ʜᴀs ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄʜᴏᴋᴇʜᴏʟᴅ,, ɪᴍ ғᴀɪʀʟʏ ɴᴇᴡ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ 𝟺𝟶ᴋ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ, sᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴇxᴄᴜsᴇ ᴀɴʏ ʟᴏʀᴇ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs!! ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴠᴀɢᴜᴇ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ. :𝟶 (under read more.)

Chivalry isn't dead; it's walking around in huge blue armor.

Titus is known for his strength on the battlefield. His hands have eviscerated countless enemies of the Imperium. You've seen him rip a Tryanid right down the middle... yikes.

So when the same bloodstained hands hold onto yours, why don't you feel scared?

There's something about him that's different. Gadriel would comment that it's unbefitting of a Space Marine.

The corners of his mouth lift upon seeing you, despite your wrought reaction to the viscera coating his skin.

You sigh, rolling your eyes at the juxtaposition of guts and such a disarming look.

And don't get you started on his size.

Holy Terra... the size difference between you two was almost heretic. (At least, the ideas it gave you.)

Even out of his armor, he dwarfed you.

You knew Titus would never bring you harm, despite his potential to. As his hand lays on your bare chest, you become starkly aware of how easy it would be. His palm encapsulated your breast, and partially your other. If he were to just...

"Are you still with me?" That gruff, familiar voice derailed whatever train of thought lingered.

You stuttered, apologizing. Being together like this was rare. A brief respite from the cosmos.

You were skin to skin, dressed as the day you were born. Fingers tracing Titus' countless scars, you dare not ask their origin.

There wasn't much to say; a quiet understanding that you're both happy to be alive and in the moment.

That is, until your mind inevitably wanders.

You'd make an attempt to straddle Titus' waist, but settle for a strong thigh instead. Your body comes alive as the flex of his muscles meet your wet core.

"It was a matter of time, then." Titus speaks softly, as to hide his equal lust.

For the night, you would be lovers. Unknowing of what the next day will bring.

[scriberye]

A Secret Held Tight (4/?)

────────── DEMETRIAN TITUS x F!READER x CATO SICARIUS ⚠️ Violence, Romance, Pregnant!Reader Weeks after a night of celebrations, you find yourself pregnant and ready to run, only to have your plans thwarted by Titus who vows to keep you safe. Now you must navigate the complexities of falling in love, and the scrutiny of Captain Cato Sicarius. a/n: Titus punches Sicarius, and Sicarius makse everything more complicated. chp. one / chp. two / chp. three

The sun is just beginning to rise as you walk to the laundry room carrying Titus’ clothes bundled in your arms. The other serfs you’re with are chatting and gossiping. It’s comforting in its normalcy.

“Did you hear about that attack?” one serf asks, her eyes wide.

“It was pretty bad,” another responds, shuffling the pile of clothes in his arms with a cringe as the stench of sweat and grime assaults his nose. “But you know, this means they’ll be deploying soon to deal with it.”

“Why are we even doing laundry in that case. They’re just going to come back worse than before!” another serf adds with a loud, exhausted sigh.

Right as your group rounds a corner, a detachment of Ultramarines hurry past, their armor hissing and clanking in their rush. The other serfs gasp, stumbling back, surprised by the marines and their indifference to whom they may topple in their haste.

You only catch a bit of what they’re talking about — a commotion in the training grounds. The other serfs don’t hesitate, dumping the clothes before rushing off toward the training grounds.

You set Titus’ clothes down in an alcove and freeze. He’s been nothing but kind to you, and you were going to put off your duties to satisfy your curiosity?

Yes, you were. Cursing under your breath, you dash after the other serfs. The laundry can wait.

And the commotion has drawn a crowd, marines and serfs alike form a circle around the field. “What’s happening?” you ask, leaning up on your tiptoes to peek over another serf’s shoulder.

“It’s Sicarius and Titus,” the serf says, voice tinged with awe. “They’re sparring but it looks more like a fight.”

Your heart sinks. Titus.

You shove your way through the bodies, trying to get a better view. The scene that greets you is nothing short of terrifying and mesmerizing. Sicarius and Titus circle each other, stripped down to the body suits they wear under their armor.

Despite the dread knotting in your stomach, there’s an undeniable attraction coiling around your heart for both men. Titus is stoic but kind-hearted. And now, facing off with Sicarius, he’s lost his cool, he’s passionate and angry.

On the other hand, you weren’t sure what about Sicarius drew your attention. He carried himself with an air of arrogance and pride, with seldom a kind word to say. Yet, since his return, he’s changed. Humility had tempered him into a quiet strength.

The fight is brutal.

“You took advantage of her,” Titus snarls, his fist connecting with Sicarius’ jaw with a sickening thud. “Used her then threw her away! Have you no shame?!”

Sicarius staggers, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. The accusation cuts deep and his eyes burn with anger and jealousy. “You don’t understand!” he snaps through gritted teeth. “I kept it secret because it was the right thing to do!”

Titus’ eyes flash in anger, and he lunges for Sicarius. The two men crash together, grappling fiercely as they try to overpower and throw the other.

“I don’t have the luxury of being there for her, like you do!” Sicarius roars, voice raw as he pushes back at Titus, sweat mixing with blood smearing his jaw. “You think I wanted this?!”

For a moment, Titus’s grip falters, a flicker of understanding crossing over his face, and Sicarius takes advantage of it, driving his knee into Titus’ ribs, breaking free of the grapple. They break apart, their breaths ragged and labored, sweat dripping your from their foreheads.

They’re poised on the edge of continued violence.

Before they can clash again, a voice booms, “Enough!”

All heads turn as the towering form of the Primarch enters the training grounds, a deep, disapproving scowl on his face. “This is not how we resolve disagreements. You will both answer for your behavior.” Roboute turns to look at the gathered crowd, “The rest of you — disperse!”

The crowd thins, and you reluctantly follow, looking back one last time as Titus and Sicarius follow their Primarch, their heads hanging in shame. You hurry along, returning to Titus’ room to wait for him.

And it’s an agonizing wait. Anxiety gnaws at your heart, the task of the laundry long forgotten, as you pace around the room with a hand over your stomach. You replay the fight over in your head, each punch and kick stirring up turbulent emotions that refuse to be ignored.

Sicarius is the father of your child. The revelation brings old feelings to the surface, tangling with the new, seeing the jealousy and regret in every move he made during the fight. You thought you were over this schoolgirl crush.

Yet, your heart is drawn to Titus and his unyielding kindness, nurturing tender new feelings as they blossom into something more. He fought for you, your honor, to protect you.

The room feels suffocating.

You take a deep breath, continuing your restless pacing. Each moment seems spent waiting, alone with your thoughts, feels like it stretches into eternity.

At last, the door opens, and Titus steps inside. He doesn’t even look at you, his expression weary and crestfallen, the fight and resulting discipline hanging over him like a shadow. He crosses the room, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, his back turned towards you.

“Titus,” you begin softly, “are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he mutters. Though he turns his head toward you, he refuses to meet your eyes. It goes quiet. You’re unsure what to do, stroking your hand over your rounding stomach in a soothing motion.

Finally, Titus looks up at you, pain and confusion evident in his eyes. “Did you truly not know Sicarius was the father?”

You look down, tears pooling and blurring your vision. “I had a feeling it might’ve been him,” your voice cracks. “But I didn’t want to believe it without proof. A-and even if he is, it doesn’t change the fact I want you to be the father.”

Titus’ expression softens. Rising from the bed, he moves across the room to stand before you. A calloused yet gentle hand slips under your chin, tilting your head up so you’ll look at him. “I will,” he smiles. “For as long as you want me to be.”

You nod quickly, not trusting your voice. Titus leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes, the tears spilling out over your cheeks. He wipes a stray tear with his thumb. For a moment, his lips hover close to yours before pressing against yours in a painfully tender kiss. It’s so chaste and gentle and full of love — it hurts your already torn heart.

You wrap your arms around his neck, urging him closer. And Titus obliges, throwing an arm around your waist and pulling you to him, deepening the kiss.

🏷️ @danart501

[deleteddewewted]

Warhammer Brainrot Hours

Fuck it I’ve had it with these ideas.

W: Demetrian Titus x afab! Reader, Gn! Reader, sub! Titus, Titus has a pussy

Transmasc Titus who meets afab! Reader and is smitten right away. The way they say his name, the manner they thank him by offering to clean his chambers and help him polish his armor is admirable. He makes them his serf, he spends all of his free time with them and only them. And one day, when the company’s chaplain asks what has been distracting him, Titus just says that he feels like some of his more baseline human qualities have not faded away but instead have made a resurgence thanks to the reader. He pushes the feelings down, but he can’t ignore them anymore. He has to fuck them and he does. He and the reader make out, his mouth clumsy as he’s never done this before and the reader nervous because the handsome space marine is kissing them out of all people.

They rub clits together, Titus cumming and squirting quickly as the sensation is new and foreign to him. His orgasm rips a scream of pleasure from him and he begs to continue. He gets on top and and moves his hips front and back in hopes that he can reach his orgasm again. Hours feel like they’ve past both of them by and Titus is a hickey and cummed out mess. Titus overjoyed and overstimulated kisses and worships with his tongue the body of his lover and promises his victories to them and only them.

[sepulcher666]

visits

inspired by this thread

inquisitor reader & Titus

You visit Thrax’s project on occasion. You pass by the servitors, down the archways and into the secret chambers where a space marine was being held.

Each time, you bring a needle-vial big enough to administer pain-suppressants just to make Titus lucid enough to talk to you. You had to practice on dummies several times before you could effectively do it. The thing was far too big in your hands; you had to don power armor to make use of it. It was a small mercy in a way, bringing Titus out of stasis and giving him small respite from his pain.

It didn’t make up for Titus not being around his brothers, but you had to try your best.

The first few times he would refuse to talk to you. The next ten-twenty visits he would start to ask you about Thrax and tell you of his situation. You tell him about your co-worker and what rumors are going around about him. You tell him Marneus Calgar had been asking for him only to be denied.

“What did you tell Calgar?” He gentle voice was akin to a ruined harp, it was barely a rasp as it passed his lips. The servos in your power-armored joints steadied him as he fell forward from his chains.

“I told him nothing that would force me to put an end to my visits, but I did tell him of Thrax’s obsession with you.”

“… Why are you helping me?” He regarded you with an intense stare. You struggled not to look away.

“I have faith in you. Faith that the accusations brought against you were false.”

Titus grasps your power-armored pauldron and shifts his gaze away from you as he groaned quietly in pain. “I see…You will see your faith in me was not misplaced, inquisitor.”

The most you can get out from your power and connections was a way for Titus to be submitted to the Deathwatch. You tell him of this when he expresses a hint of despair at not hearing much from the ultramarines.

“I know little of your old chapter…but I can get the Deathwatch to take you. You wish to declare yourself a Blackshield?”

Titus grimaces. “I dishonored my chapter. It is the only way forward for me.”

And at last comes the day Thrax dies, and Titus is declared free from corruption. You bring his robes and scant few belongings you’ve managed to save from being cast into the fire.

He looks at you expectantly as you help him out from his stasis pod.

“You’re a free man, Titus. I will take you to the Watch Fortress, and our paths shall separate from there.

He turns his head and offers you a rare smile.

“I will not forget your kindness. Thank you.”

———

He looks upon your casket.

Not a soul offered him resistance as he passed them into the sepulcher.

Now he wore his old colors again.

It has been two centuries since you last spoke. Now, here you lay, finally given rest.

Titus knew you were but a mortal. That you would not live long enough to see him again.

But he had remembered you and had come to pay you respect. It was the least he could do.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Rescue Titus

Author's note: This is the next part of the Bully(ing) Cato Sicarius fic. Other fics here

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @i-am-a-dragon34 @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bleedingichorhearts

warnings: none? Please ask me to tag something if I missed something

summary: You discover some inconsistencies, and begin to research further

You stare at the dataslate that holds a seemingly endless amount of paperwork for you to do. Despite normally finding form-work like this to be soothing, if not a little dull when the information contained within isn’t stuff that you need to know, or find interesting to read about… You’ve been unable to focus for more than ten minutes at a time, before your mind wanders. While you are safely tucked away in the fortress monastery of the White Consuls - a successor chapter of the Ultramarines - Cato, Demetrian and most of the second company are currently deployed, fighting against the Tyranid menace that threatens to consume the entire galaxy, if they are not stopped.

You want nothing more than to believe with all your heart and soul that both of your lovers will come home whole, healthy and victorious… But you’ve seen the ravaged, stripped wastelands that a Tyranid hive fleet can reduce entire systems down to, if they are not driven off of the worlds they attempt to consume and killed or driven out of the system entirely. You’ve seen some of the reports of entire chapters of Astartes being wiped out by Tyranids. Not just a squad of astartes. Not just a company of Astartes, but entire chapters of Astartes being killed and consumed by this insectoid menace from beyond the void of night. 

The Tyranid threat is so intense that you’ve found yourself murmuring prayers to the God-Emp-... To Him on Terra, despite having been ordered not to do so by Lord Guilliman (he himself who brings victory wherever he goes. The last loyal son of the Emperor. More than a few worlds consider him to be a deity as well, though subordinate to Him on Terra). You… You try not to give into that temptation, but your faith has been something that you’ve been taught is Right and Just… Abandoning it has left a void that you grieve, especially when you are left alone to your thoughts.

You had not been left without a protector entirely, though the escort you have been given is not one you would have chosen. You peek at Sargeant Leandros from the corners of your eyes, careful to keep your head turned toward the dataslate in your hands and suppress another sigh from leaving your lips… Wait, what was that you just read? You blink, straightening out of your stupor a little as you refocus on the first of the series of reports that the advanced scouts into the next system to be re-integrated into the greater Imperium of Man. The one that is currently fighting to stay out of the endless maw of the Tyranid Swarm.

“My lady?” Sergeant Leandros asked, his helmeted gaze snapping to you as he noted your movement. “Has something caught your attention?”

“It has… I’ll need to cross-reference what this says, with what the others have sent to me… But I think that - ah. Things may be more fraught than they first appear in the sector where most of the Indomitus fleet is currently embattled.” You respond, reading through the information as quickly as you can without skipping words or whole phrases that could be key.

The Ultramarine is immediately at your side, reading over your shoulder from the way he leans into your personal space. “What do you mean?”

“There was a recent change in power, in the past few years. The cause of the switch over had something to do with an Inquisitor and a suspected gene-stealer Cult that the former Governor may or may not have had ties with. Or at least, that’s what the Inquisitor said. You and I both know how accurate Inquisitors can be when they want something, and-... Huh… Can you bring up a list of Ordo Hereticus Inquisitors who have gone missing or were presumed to be killed in that and the nearby surrounding sectors, please? There’s something about this Lady Evergleam that bothers me.” You answer, the mild frown on your face deepening.

“Yes ma’am.” Leandros answered, snapping you a quick salute.

Despite your reservations about the sergeant, there are aspects to him that are endearing… Mostly when he reminds you of Demetrian, or Cato. One of the corners of your mouth lift up into a small smile “Thank you, Sergeant.”

~

Months of careful planning and research had led up to this moment. You walked confidently into the large throne room and called out “Lady Inquisitor.” There is a professional smile on your face, and ice in your eyes as you walk over to where Lady Evergleam, Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus was currently standing “What is it that you are doing?”

Lady Evergleam was far too close to a helmet-less and visibly uncomfortable Demetrian, the latter of whom was leaning away from the powerful baseline woman. 

The Inquisitor had one hand lightly touching his chest plate, the other raised, likely to signal several of her retinue who were standing in different points in the room. She took a half-step away from Titus and lowered her hands, answering with an equally professional smile “Merely inspecting one of the Ultramarines off-duty, as the others are helping doing clean up while dealing with the aftermath of the xenos invasion.” She looks you up and down, raising an eyebrow at you “From your dress and brazenness and interrupting me during my sacred duties, you must be Lord Guilliman’s head diplomat.”

You had gotten an SOS message from Demetrian, just before you had been about to present certain information to Lord Guilliman. You’d handed him a dataslate that had a copy of the information that you had gathered before informing him that you needed to help Titus out of an awkward social situation.

Lord Guilliman had been amused and had allowed you to leave, a light chuckle rumbling from the Primarch and a warm if small smile on his face. 

You had used the serfs’ paths in this palace to get to where Titus was faster than using the general access hallways and rooms that were much more winding and circuitous. Your eyes narrow a little as you walk purposefully towards Demetrian, placing yourself between him and the handsy Inquisitor. You are still smiling politely at her “I am indeed one of the diplomats who work directly for the IMperial regent, yes.” You scrutinize her further before answering “I have reviewed inspection protocols, of which you are in violation of several. Lieutenant Titus, should he require Inquisitorial Inspection, should have an Ultramarine Apothecary and Chaplain present. Additionally his superior officer may be in attendance as well, or at the very least should have been informed of this inspection beforehand, which he has not.”

“... Lieutenant Titus? Last I heard he is a captain.” Lady Evergleam inquired, a confused expression flashing across her face. 

Your eyes narrow a little more at the incongruity. Titus shifts a bit behind you. You want to reach out and hold one of his hands, but that would be a breach of etiquette that neither you nor he can afford at the moment. “How strange. I would think that an Inquisitor such as yourself would keep up to date on such things. Besides, Even if Titus was a captain, his superior officer would be the chapter master who had not been informed of your… Inspection, either.”

She bristles at your tone, her eyes narrowing some “And just what are you trying to imply, you silver-tongued -”

You deliberately interrupt her, to provoke her further “Only that you have breached protocols several times, and have outdated information. Which is ill-fitting of an Inquisitor of your status, Lady Evergleam.”

“If you are accusing me of something,stop dancing around the point, you Ultramarine branded harlot!” Evergleam hissed, glaring harder at you.

Normally, an Inquisitor glaring at you like that would make you nervous. But Cato’s voice rumbled in the earpiece you were wearing “I’m in position. Father is coming. Time to unmask her in front of her court.” 

Your smile turns sharp “You are not who you claim to be. After all, Lady Evergleam has been listed as KIA for over a hundred and twenty years. Her ship was destroyed along with everyone aboard her ship after the ship’s Gellar fields fell during a warm storm. You may have taken her face and voice, but you are not her. Nor are your companions her true retinue.” 

“How dare you accuse me of being an IMposter! I will have you arrested for the sheer cheek! Guards -” The false lady Inquisitor growled, playing every inch the offended and innocent party “Guards! Arrest this woman! We must have been displaced in time and the wreckage of another ship and crew were found and mistaken to be myself and my retinue.”

“So you still claim to be Inquisitor Evergleam?” You press, raising an eyebrow at this interloper. She had been playing petty tyrant on this world for several years. Even if she was who she claimed to be. Her actions since she claimed dominion over this world had earned her a swift execution.

"I don't claim to be anyone. I am Inquisitor Amela Evergleam!" The Inquisitor growled, "And you're one to talk about people being declared KIA, Lt. Titus here was declared KIA on Graia, during the Ork invasion of that world." She huffed.

"He was taken into Inquisitorial custody, actually," Primarch Guilliman called out, resplendent in the Armor of Fate, the Sword of the God Emperor in hand and unsheathed, psychic flames dancing along the blade, "That Inquisitor lied about Demetrian's status, among other things, for which he was killed. You stand accused of subverting the resources of an Imperial Word, Inquisitor. How do you plead?"

Evergleam sputters indignantly (and probably from fear. The cool fury of a Primarch is no small thing to bear the brunt of). "We have been trying to fulfill the Imperial Tithes imposed upon us. But recent seasons have been harsh, and an illness has been running rampant among the populace. I offer what we can spare, so as to not starve and slowly kill those left alive, my lord," She paused for several moments before falling to her knees, hands clasped together as if in prayer, "Lord Primarch, I took control of this world due to the mismanagement and foolishness of it's previous rulers. I have been working day and night for three years since I took governorship, to fix what I can... I have been plagued by bureaucratic bloat and internal obstruction and sabotage. I swear on all I hold dear that i have been doing all I can do-"

She fell silent as the Lord Primarch lifted his free hand in a silencing gesture. "Cease your begging and self-aggrandizement. My agents infiltrated your government months ahead of my arrival, to discern the truth of things. I declare that you have been found wanting. I offer you a choice: either you retire and live in quiet luxury, away from the halls of power of this or any other Imperial World... Or I will end your life now. Choose."

Guilliman underlined his words by pointing the tip of the Emperor's Blade at the kneeling Inquisitor, staring down at her, his face an inscrutable mask.

The Inquisitor froze on her knees, eyes wide. Her retinue had scattered away from her at the Primarch's approach, falling to their knees in terrified supplication, "My... my Lord Regent, is there no way I can prove myself an able planetary governor?"

"No, Choose. Wealthy retirement or execution." Guilliman rumbled, unwavering and unreadable.

"I... I will... I will retire quietly, Lord Regent and I thank you for your mercy. I don't know how or why you feel that I failed you, Imp-"

She was cut off by a frown on Guilliman's face, her own growing paler, "Cease. Talking. You need to pack your personal belonging and leave the governor's mansion by the end of the day. Begone." He commanded.

Lady Evergleam scramble up onto her feet and fled, her staff scurrying after her. The rest of her court immediately begin to whisper and murmur to one another. 

A particularly ambitious looking nobleman dares to approach the still thunderously frowning Lord Guilliman, for reasons you can guess at. Your focus, however, is drawn to Demetrian, as he places a large, armored hand on one of your shoulders. You look up into his eyes, smiling gently.

“You came…” He breathed.

“You called.” You answered, smiling gently up at him. “Cato is watching, nearby. Care to go for a walk with me, lieutenant? It’s a tad crowded in here for my tastes, and the Imperial Regent is going to be busy sorting out this lot for some time, I think.”

Titus hummed in agreement, the hand he had on your shoulder sliding gently down to your elbow “It would be my honor, my lady.” WIth that you and he walk into the meticulously cared for gardens.

A tall, broad blue and gold blur slams into Titus as soon as the doors close, hiding you and him from sight.

Titus lets out a startled “Fuck! What the -”

“Shut. Up.” Growled Cato, holding the older Marine in close, a low, warning rumble in his voice “That SOS you sent both of us worried the fuck out of me. Last time you were that close to an Inquisitor, you went missing for three centuries. If Father hadn’t ordered me to watch through a damn sniper’s scope I would’ve-”

“Done something reckless and stupid?” Demetrian teases, pressing his forehead to Cato’s, pulling you in to hug you as well.

One of Cato’s arms wraps around you, the other still holding tightly to Titus. “No. All of my moves are calculated and well thought out.”

“You’re just awful at math, half of the time.” Demetrian teased, a crooked grin on his face.

“Oi! Slander! Dearheart, he’s bullying me! And that’s after getting cornered by that shitty bitch whose been stalking him for weeks. I knew that she was planning something. You just thought it was because she was grateful you saved her life. I knew it was some kind of shady shit. Inquisitors are trouble.” Cato groused.

You chuckle and go up on your tiptoes, kissing both of your beloveds on the neck, which was the highest point that you could kiss both of them, while they were in their armor. Especially since Demetrian had crossed the Rubicon Primaris. He’d somehow gotten even taller. “I think we can head home. What do you think loves?”

“Yeah. We’re off-duty, officially and Father is being watched over by the fourth company. I don’t envy Ventris. When father starts yelling like that, he gets… Really intense.” Cato rumbled. 

“Poor lad. He really has some shite luck. Hopefully he won’t be harassed by either of the Lunatics after his ass, now that Father has taken the Imperial Helm.” Demetrian sighed, shaking his head a little. 

“Blegh. We’ve already fought Tyranids. Please don’t try to summon Renegades, or throne forbid Chaos down upon us. They are annoying as shit to fight.” Cato grumbled. 

You smile softly as you hold hands with both of your lovers, enjoying listen to the two of them bicker and banter with one another, occasionally teasing one or both of them as well. They tease you back, of course.

[beckyninja]

Yay! I've been looking forward to this! I love Gentle Titus SO much. And I especially love how awed he was by pregnancy. The idea that these superhuman warriors would be so impressed by what a woman goes through growing/delivering a child hits all the right emotional buttons.

✧₊⁺ This Was Not In The Codex ✧₊⁺

Pairing: demetrian titus x reader(f)

Summary: Titus is on a much-needed leave on Macragge. While there he runs into you, or rather you run into him escaping terrible punishment for being unable to tell a lord no.

Part 2/?

Arthur's Note: I am terrible at keeping POV when writing in the third person and try to do omniscient, but again I am no real writer.

Warnings: Pregnancy (reader is pregnant), mentions of SA, and general gimdarkness.

18+ Minors DNI

★。------ ＼｜／------。★

Your mind fought with itself to stir from the imposed sleep it had put you under. The snaring embrace of the blankets you were so carefully tucked into, and the feeling of the fresh clean robe against your skin; it was heavenly. You could float away, or sink further into the mattress. Your body was weak, and in truth you were unsure if you could move from your spot on your own now. Throne, you were not even sure what had allowed you to push on as long as you had at this point.

The scent of fresh cooked food tantalized your nose, and your mouth watered to the point of drooling. Oh, how lovely it would be to taste what your nose offered. The soft moan from your mind fantasizing over the food you smelt confirmed your return to the waking world.

“Oh good you are awake. I heard you stir, but I was unsure if you would go back to sleep.”

That low timber voice, just enough roughness around the edges, yet so full and deep. You knew this voice; it was the angel.

That's right you were taken, no saved, by one of the Emperor's angels. The events of what got you to this point float back to the forefront of your mind, but there was much you had no recollection of, and that sent a chill down your spine. You were in new clothes, on a bed...your tired mind sprung into panic, what happened to you while you were too weak to even be awake? A wave of nausea hit you with panic that the angel was not as much your savior as you wanted them to be.

The sudden spike in your heartbeat and the rapid movement of your eyes did not go unnoticed by Titus, he frowned and raised his massive hands up so you could see them, “You are okay My Lady. I summoned chapter serfs, only female, to clean you and change you. I promise your body was respected. One of them had a robe from when they carried a child, and you wear it now. They washed you down with a cloth before you were seen by a medicae. I did sit in and observe your inspection. Allowed me to ask questions. The care for a woman with child is not taught within the Codex Astartes. It seemed the attending apothecary was also interested.”

A mix of a sense of duty now for his charge and genuine curiosity as it occurred to him he knew nothing of procreation, well he knew the basics, the very basics. And understood he would never yearn for it; at least that is what he's been told and believed. But everything else? Information not important to his existence and purpose, until now. And the things he read and saw made him appreciate baseline women all the more. Even with all their augments Titus did not think an Astartes could handle labor much better.

Though you started to relax a little, forcing yourself to believe him, after all even if it were a lie, what could you do? He could crush you like an ant under heel.

“I got you and the babe some food. I hope it is to your and their liking. Since I know nothing of these things, I asked some of our chapter serfs who were mothers. I did not realize carrying a child could cause such...creative desires of food,” Titus smiled warmly at you. He seemed genuinely happy with his dudillgince and the feast he brought for you. It was strange to see someone, mostly a revered angel, so happy to be helping something as lowly as you. It made you feel terrible; perhaps you were corrupted by the ruinous powers?

“And I made sure there is plenty to put more meat on you and the little one.” he continued. This was much different than the normal tasks he would be dealing with, and this learning, even of something so niche and useless to one such of himself, was better than feeling bored. Plus, he was helping. Titus hoped those above him and his primarch saw this favorably. Though Calgar was planet side and was so far sympathetic towards the situation, even upset to have to admit even Macragge wasn't free of such gross baseline nobles. It was always a harrrowing realization that, there will always be those who abuse any and all power they have.

You look over that the massive plate? No it looked more like a serving platter that had smaller plates upon it, piled high with food. Fruits, vegetables and so much cooked meats and breads. Your stomach growled angerly, demanding you eat what was there. The noise as not just so loud it spooked you, but also hurt.

Overly aware now how starved you were. Your lower lip quivered as you tried to shrink into the bed in embarrassment, and fear. This angel of The Emperor was gracing you with his presence and blessing you with his attention and you're over where making gross indignant sounds like some animal.

It was terrifying how quick Titus could close the gap, with speed you almost couldn't comprehend he was kneeling down on the side of the bed, trying to make himself seem smaller, and offering the most gentle expression. Though it didn't seem natural, practiced, but not forced.

“Please do not fret My Lady, you are not in any trouble. Your body is letting me know I am rambling too much, and you the little one need to eat!” he smiled, resting his large hands on the bed, waiting for you to reach out and touch them, but you couldn't.

He was divine and you were dirty. But those eyes, deep green eyes so soft and pleading while his face looked as if carved from stone. His eyes expressed what his facial could not. Still unable to touch him, you at least made a relented move towards them with a hand of your own.

“You can eat in bed, does that sound nice? Can you sit up on your own, or would you like my aid?” he asked so gently, again, betraying his mighty size.

With your best effort you tried to sit up but your body just couldn't support itself like that. With the fear of survival somewhat muted now, your body was done forcing itself to preform mighty feats like standing. But before you could ask, Titus with such gentleness supported you and guided you up and back so you might use a headboard for support.

Happy that you were nice and steady and stood to go grab the food, but your lip was still trembling. An angel of The Emperor shouldn't be waiting on you! This was beneath him and you were foul for this.

“Please, My Lord, I can-”

“Titus, and please do not fret My Lady. I want to help,” he replied as if he read your mind. He placed a bedside tray before you that had a plate of food piled high upon it, “Now, eat up, I got you plenty so worry not. I will get you more when you finish.”

When you finish? More? How much did he expect you to eat? All of it? You couldn't fathom more than a few bites! Still, you nodded and offered a weak smile. God Emperor you didn't want to displease him.

You tried to pick at the food, tear pieces of bread, or take spoonfuls of food, but you had no real strength, your grip was frail and you kept dropping things. Which caused you to shake and whimper that your failure to do as you were told would be met with anger. It always was. But instead the angel just cooed it was okay, as he started to feed you.

It was not something you noticed but Titus was keep focused attention on making sure he did not feed you too quickly, starting small, if not a bit awkward conversation. Watching you chew and swallow, counting as you two talked. He did not want to overwhelm you, and he was warned if you ate too quickly your body would expel it. And the food was made of dreams to you.

The babe in your belly and your stomach so pleased. Titus kept the conversation light, asking little simple questions like your name, and if you had a favorite color; joking about how Astartes know so little about baseline human health, so you would have to help him learn. He kept you happily distracted as gingerly gave you another bite and another. The way he so sweetly held food up for you and slipped into your mouth so you didn't have to risk any of the energy you had. Doing so with such care as to not spook you.

It was hard to not just let your guard down. Your body didn't have enough strength to fight. Like a prey animal that accepts it fate. That was how your lord always put it. Everything would be better if you just stopped fighting, and at a young age you did. But this? It did not even feel like a dream or fantasy, not like any your simple mind could fathom.

The way his eyes lit up when the moans of sheer pleasure and joy slipped out of you. Seemingly remembering which gave a stronger response and getting you more of that. He was so proud his choice of food was appealing to you.

“See, nothing to worry about. I will have you and the little one up to proper weight in no time. I will be monitoring your recovery and the babe's development.” he said with such a kind smile eyes drifting to your bump, but mindful to not touch it.

In fact all his touches were soft and minimal, but in ways to show he only wished for your comfort. As your chewing slowed, Titus became aware you were full, but perhaps unsure to tell him. And you were. You were worried he would be upset you had not eaten all he brought, and you were enjoying having an angel treat you like someone important.

“Are you full Little Mother? It is okay if you are. I was told not to force more than you are comfortable with.” he assured you

You nod meekly and removed the tray, pleased he got you to each as much as you did, a plate and a half. Not as much as he like, but then again he was warned baseline humans while they did was more often than Astartes their caloric intake was much less. But you had the baby...he sighed to himself, truly human women were complicated beings. Perhaps that was why they could not be Astartes. Their bodies were not simple and easily changed.

You yawned and Titus was easing you back down into bed. The medicae mentioned it might be like this for a while; eating and sleeping as your body regained some form of strength again.

“Thank you my-Titus,” you say quietly, drained from eating but also so content. You could not remember a time where you ever felt full.

“No thanks needed. I have things I must attend, but I promise to return. I will be nearby or another should you need anything. Just call. Our hearing is sensitive so you do not need to worry about being loud for us to hear.” he explained as he tucked you in and fluffed your pillow.

Feeling bold he ghosted one of his giant hands over your small bump. Too enthralled with the idea life was growing inside there to notice your smile. Truly, this was something to marvel at. To house life and nurture it so it could grow. No Astartes or Primarch as far as he was aware could even fathom doing that,

“Beautiful.” he mutters so quietly you baseline ears did not pick it up.

Titus looked up at you and you were already sleeping again. He gave your bump a gentle pat before standing and tending to other matters. Like another meeting with Calgar about why he had a pregnant serf in his room now.