#lorgar aurelian x reader

[moodymisty]

Would you be comfortable writing some courting headcanons for the primarchs?? Thank you!!

Author's note: Here you go, they're sort of random but I hope you enjoy them.

Warnings: Fem!Reader for some like Lion’el because of words like Legion Mother, A few very slightly lewd remarks

Fulgrim:

The primarch who out of all has most devoted himself to things like the arts is nothing short of overwhelming, when he first expressed his desire for you. Flowers, paintings, clothing, food, whatever it is you enjoy, all of it gets gifted to you with no small amount of theatrics. Though thankfully, Fulgrim knows when to turn it down a bit, and you can enjoy his company. Even then however he is still very intense, kisses on the hand, the lips, and gentle caresses abound as he woos you with his silver tongue. His legion is also one of the few who at the start know about Fulgrim's intentions, and actually takes it decently well. Far better than other legions, when finding out their Primarch is indulging in romance. You are the socialite, the shining star in a room and the talk of everyone there, and Fulgrim will have it no other way. But as much as he does all this, he finds it cute if you’re shy or nervous about it. Shyness isn’t in his dna, so he finds it very adorable. You often get purfumed, hand written letters when he is away. Fulgrim has quite the way with words, and many of them you’re glad the one who reads them are him and you.

Perturabo:

He might be a petulant manchild at times, but when the mood strikes him Perturabo can be a bit softer. It helps that you're one of the few people he trusts, now that the two of you are so close. Though it may often be more trouble than it's worth, with how often his mood changes. Perturabo can go from lavishing you with Olympian clothes to sulking in his workshop for hours if not days, leaving you to eventually wander down there and find him, and bring him out of his petulant sulk. A gentle hand on his own, asking if he can explain to you what he’s working on tends to help. Perturabo also becomes very possessive of you, not long after he starts courting you. If Dorn, Sanguinius or Lorgar so much as look at you the wrong way, he's more than ready for a fight. He has one person in his life who hasn’t wronged him, who actually respects him, and he isn’t losing that. Those softer moments with him as he speaks of his plans for amphitheaters and bathhouses while you lay in his arms are worth it, however.

Lion’el Jonson:

Lion'el is, complicated. Part of him wonders how he even got here, something as frivolous as romance was never a significant part of his mind. But here he is. He can’t complain, as he’s become so used to you now that often times, his nose wrinkles anytime he’s away and casts sight on an empty bed. He doesn’t say anything about it, however. Part of him laments he isn't able to give you rides on horseback, as he's far outgrown the horses he rode in his younger years. Though he can walk beside you, even if his men think it's demeaning of his position. Is painfully blunt about some things, and extremely obtuse about others. He wishes to marry you? Blunt. You get a military parade dedicated to showing the galaxy the Dark Angels new Legion Mother with no warning. He wishes for you to wear the colors of his legion and match him so when you arrive on Terra everyone knows who you are with? Vague and obtuse, he will grunt about every option until you choose the one he likes.

Rogal Dorn:

As with all parts of his life, he's extremely stoic and at first, you don't think anything's changed. He's the type that listens to the things you talk about, and silently gives them to you. For instance as a newcomer to Inwit it's incredibly cold, but your current dress just doesn't cut it for the harsh wind and un-acclimated body. You find a new one on your bed three days later made perfect and exactly how you like it, but Dorn says nothing about it. Those few late night moments alone when he brings you into his office, and you sit at his desk while he works are some of his favorite. Dorn gets to feel you safe in his arms, and while he’ll never say it out loud, he is overwhelmed in his love for you. Does not tell any of his fellow primarchs about you. The day they realize Dorn has a beloved is a stressful one, they’re all sneaking around trying to get information about you, and Dorn almost has to lock you in his quarters and shoo them all away. Is surprising talkative in written word. His letters or anything else tend to be very long, talking about the ins and outs of his legion, and their current progress. You’ve never heard him talk half that much in person, it’s sweet. Though once in a while those letters can get a bit salacious; And Dorn is nothing if not detailed.

Leman Russ:

This man's declaration that he wanted to court you was as brash and blunt as he is. You're pretty sure he was half way into sleeping with how drunk he was at the time, a massive hand on your shoulder as he smiles with a red face. Granted when he sobered up he was far more, romantic about it. By his standards. He still stunk of mjød, but at least he held your hand. From that moment on however Russ isn't a man shy of showing off, and wastes no opportunity to plop you in his lap and give you a kiss, pick you up off the ground, or say something far too inappropriate for the current locale. Whether it's day two or day two hundred, he finds keeping himself off of you too much trouble. He’s the type to make others turn away with how overt his affection is. Every one of his kisses and hugs feel like he’s treating it as the last one he’ll ever do. Loves when you comb and braid his hair. It takes awhile and he has no patience for it, but he enjoys when you do it.

Ferrus Manus:

As a recurring theme with all of these, Ferrus finds it a bit hard to show how he feels. While he has moments where he cracks a smile, often times he’s largely stoic. As such, he never really asked you to be with him, it was something that simply progressed overtime. He doesn’t invite you into his quarters and his bed if you aren’t his beloved, he assumes it wouldn’t take a genius to figure that out. Late night workshop time is a must. Ferrus can spend days in there with no issue, and oftentimes you have to come and climb into his lap if you want any time with him at all. He doesn’t mind as as long as you’re quiet; Though over time he’s begun to enjoy explaining his plans to you if you aren’t asleep. If you are asleep, sometimes he gets a bit emotional and talks or thinks to himself. He never thought he’d have someone like you when he lived on Medusa, he just needed to survive. Is actually somewhat hesitant when you first are together. Ferrus is well aware of his size (both out and in the bedroom, or any other local where he deems sex a daring and intriguing idea), and often tries to be quite gentle. It took a bit of coaxing to finally treat you like you weren’t made of glass. You get surprise gifts from Fulgrim at times. Some are sweet; Some are… They’re hidden until Ferrus returns from where ever he’s currently away to at the time and you can surprise him.

Horus:

The same as Fulgrim; Excessive and grandiose, but unlike Fulgrim, there's a tad more subtlety to it. But only a tad. Horus still is eager to show off the love of his life (and so much more that he’s kept just in his head shh), but he’s aware that sometimes you require a bit more subtlety. For a primarch, he’s quite the romantic. Though there’s only so much you can do when you have thousands of gene-sons waiting on orders and don’t exactly get why their primarch is holding your tiny hand and helping you walk down the thunderhawk’s ramp. You can do it yourself, they think. He can also be quite a bit grandiose in the theoretical sense. Horus seems to have your entire future together planned, and he’ll speak it to you during very late nights with stars in his eyes. To marry you, to bring you into his legion as the mother of his gene-sons, to give you your own child one day. He’s more than a bit overwhelming, but it helps he’s so charismatic.

Angron:

I... I hope you're patient. Angron isn’t one that is fond of things like romance. For multiple reasons. One being that it brings him pain because of the Nails, and the other being that in many ways, he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. He’s a slave, he’s a monster, he’s a man who failed his people, men like him don’t get to have someone like you. But you stay anyways despite the fear of him loosing control of the Nails, and eventually Angron supposes that there’s more annoying people to have around. He’s far more applicable to this in his early days. The Nails haven’t degraded his mental state yet, and his legion is still fresh faced and eager to prove their worth. If Angron accepts you, they will as well then. The downside is that many of the primarchs worry about Angron’s relationship and subsequent attachment to you, and the danger it brings. Some for your safety, but mostly for the fact that now that Angron is so deeply attached, if something were to happen to you it would well be within the possibility that Angron would completely loose control of the Nails, and become an unstoppable threat that would have to be put down. On the other hand, it seems that you can calm him down a bit, as much as the Nails will allow, something that not many are able to do. A double edged sword, your love is to him. Often times you have to restrain him during anything, strenuous. It’s for your own safety, though it seems like Angron doesn’t hate it either.

Roboute Guilliman:

The most traditional out of them all. He follows the 'rules' so strictly you have wonder if he's following some sort of manuscript. Your relationship progresses at a very methodical pace, which is a bit odd but you find it oddly sweet he puts so much thought into it. He does little more than hold your hand, kisses and anything heavier are strictly private; If it wasn't for the longing, puppy dog look in his eyes, no one would guess you two were anything more. He's not overt about it like Horus or Fulgrim, but you are still absolutely smothered in gifts. From jewelry to clothing to weird purfumes he's been gifted by high lords attempting to earn his favor through you (Guilliman has made it very obvious that he's not the type to be swayed by gifts but they hope you are and will put in a good word with your beloved), you quickly find yourself constantly or the receiving end of some sort of lavish gift. Roboute is very much in love, it's just hard for him to admit it. As you come to understand his own little love language is the day he's a very happy man. On a bonus note: It is very easy to get this man to completely melt for you. If it’s been a stressful time for him and he’s stressed, giving him a bit of a hand will make him a bit bashful, but overwhelmingly thankful.

Sanguinus:

As kind as he is beautiful, Sanguinius is one of the more heartfelt ones around. Romance abound, the angel and you are the textbook example of star crossed lovers the moment he proposes courtship to you. It almost makes some of the primarchs jealous at how incredibly perfect your love for each other is, like your feet don’t touch the ground He loves to pick you up and give you a hug or a kiss, wrapping you in his wings. He always says it's just so you feel safer, but he also likes the bit of privacy, hiding you from the worlds in his arms. You also enjoy playing with his wings when you’re in private, as they’re quite sensitive. A side note; He thinks it's cute that you use his fallen feathers as bookmarks and quills, and he now gifts you a few of his fallen primary feathers every now and again for you to use. You’ll know about the Red Thirst eventually when you’re with him. Sanguinius won’t ever ask for assistance, but if you were to offer a bit of blood? He’s incredibly careful, but the blood of his lover is nothing short of ambrosia and he will dutifully treat you afterward for sating his appetite.

Jaghatai Khan:

As one of the more reasonable primarchs, Jaghatai is a steal to have as your lover. He’s personable and kind, and funny to boot. He enjoys making you laugh, something his sons have picked up on. Sometimes they’ll tease you (or more likely unsuspecting commissars) when you’re in their company. If he's not able to hold your hand, he'll have a hand on your shoulder or back, always close to you whenever you're both together. He’s extremely dedicated to Chogoris, and it’s incredibly important to him that you adopt some of the culture he grew up in. You don’t have to, but it would make Jagahatai an extremely proud man if you attempted to understand Chogoran. He’s also private; His fellow primarchs don’t even know of your existence let alone close relation to him until you’re well into your romance, and Jaghatai has thoughts for no one else but you.

Konrad Curze:

Konrad’s romance is as toxic as he is. But at the same time, it’s like a drug you can’t get enough of. Because you’re fucking terrified of him, but the man is obsessed with you. Not many of the other primarchs understand the soul crushing, teeth grinding obsession Konrad has for you. He’s willing to fall to his knees and submit to you as long as you tell him you love him, and that he's worth more alive. But if you tell him you don’t?… You don’t want to tell him you don’t. Konrad is painful. He holds your hand too tight, kisses you too rough, bites you too hard. He doesn’t mean it, you don’t think at least some of the time, but he’s so caught in this obsession with someone trying to save him that his martyr complex melts away for a bit and he’s this self-loathing, sad excuse of a man. You almost pity him as much as you love him. Making him happy has become an arduous journey for you. Is the exact opposite of the others in wanting to show you off. You’re hidden for ages, until the primarchs realize Konrad has someone at his side. They worry, but they know separating him from you would cause more harm than good, and you keep Konrad’s emotions a bit more in check. And in the eyes of a few individuals, your safety serves as a good threat to keep Konrad and his unhinged legion on a leash and working towards a desired goal. A note; Konrad is surprisingly selfless in regard to more intimate matters. And he likes to bite. Your thighs don’t get much reprieve from him.

Vulkan:

Sweet as sugar, no one is as good at a proper declaration of love or desire to romance like Vulkan is. No matter how much it breaks his back he’ll always hold your hand, give you a kiss, or pick you up to bring you with him across the Flamewrought or the Terran palace. Besides perhaps Sanguinius and Lorgar, no one is as star-crossed in love with you as Vulkan is.

He’ll do anything for you, if you just ask. He often paraphrases that he would shield you from any threat, but sometimes you fear he’d do it literally. Less seriously he loves to gift you various things, your favorite being a necklace. You never thought he’d be able to work at such a small level, but Vulkan is nothing if not skilled. He got quite the reward the evening he gifted it to you.

Is one of the quicker ones to get serious. Talks of marrying you, writing you down in the history of his legion as their Legion Mother, Vulkan is quite eager to tie himself to you, and you to him.

Corvus Corax:

Corvus is private, and also quite slow to trust. Even slower to admit he likes someone, let alone enough to express that he’s in love with them. Many moments with him are often spent in his private quarters or somewhere else alone, where only you have eyes on him.

Is one of the few primarchs conscious of the fact that he isn’t really meant to exist, and that he’s forcing it by being with you. Your body often bruises and aches if he isn’t careful with you, and it secretly pains him that the one person he loves is so easy for him to hurt. Finding out about this feeling he has swiftly turns you into a mess of reassurances that quickly overwhelm poor Corvus, and while he still feels it at times, he appreciate you trying to soothe him.

Loves to write you letters. He feels like it means more to put the effort into handwriting, and when you send him one back, it’s like he can feel your touch on the paper. One time you left a lipstick kiss on the parchment and the man was insufferable that evening from how pent up he was, unbeknownst to you millions of miles away. You paid for that transgression dearly one he returned.

Lorgar Aurelian:

Lorgar is yet another primarch who is sweet as sugar. He also has quite the way with words, though unlike Horus and Fulgrim, it isn’t intentional. He’s just very passionate and verbose. Is also very touchy. Loves to pick you up and kiss you, show you off to others. He’s so stupidly in love and everyone around him is almost annoyed by it. He just loves his tiny little goddess so much, you bring him light he didn’t know he needed. Lorgar is also very affected by his religious trauma. His self flagellation both emotional and literal has always been an issue. You’ve had nights where you’ve put ice on his back after he whipped himself bloody, crying over his wounds. If it isn’t bad he encourages you to not weep over him, and if it’s worse he often times is beating himself up over worrying you. Being with him is stressful emotionally, to say the least. In another path, he often time beats himself up over the idea of corrupting you with sinful thoughts. Though that doesn’t really stop him, especially if he comes to his quarters one evening seeing you wearing all white draped across his bed. Lorgar will sin alright, but he does it while speaking prayers to save his own soul as he worships you. He’s one of the quickest Primarchs to want to marry you, to make you his own and to bring you closer and closer to his side.

Mortarion:

Mortarion isn’t an easy one to love. He doesn’t really consider the emotion valuable until one day he suddenly realizes that you mean something to him, more than just another baseline human does. Like Ferrus in that he never does the official courtship nonsense, and just upgrades your relationship in his head overtime. Someone who isn’t his lover doesn’t spend hours in the Pale King’s study watching him work, keeping one of his hands in their lap while he uses the other. Is a bit of a pushover in some ways, and takes his self loathing a bit too far sometimes. You’ve learned that sometimes he needs you to kiss him and tell him you love him more than anything else, to get him to stop sulking. Everyone is extremely surprised he found sometime. Let alone someone so personable. Fulgrim jokes that Mortarion should just send you instead of himself to Terra when the primarchs meet up to discuss things, as you’re easier to deal with. Mortarion hates when things like that are said, and he’ll hide you from the world obsessively for awhile after. He loves you, but sometimes for him love and possess get intertwined in his head when he thinks for you.

Magnus the Red:

Isn’t the worst beloved to have, but he has his quirks. He can be a bit stuffy at times, and often times forgets that relationships needs nurturing to grow. Magnus often times gets stuck in his own head and forgets everyone around him, including you. Loves to show off his warp magic to you, especially if you show literally any interest at all. He’s so used to everyone fearing it, fearing him, hating psykers no matter what, that any interest by you gives him hearts in his eyes. You’ll be up all night listening to him read you tomes. Which you don’t mind, it often helps you fall asleep. Since Magnus can change his size, he knows exactly how to make your squirm. You know you’re in for a wild ride when your beloved becomes bigger than Ferrus and starts taking off his armor.

AlphariusOmegon:

The twins are complicated. Given the primarchs consider you only Alpharius’ beloved, you spend more time with him than Omegon. As such, sometimes Omegon can get a bit possessive whenever you two are together. You don’t entirely blame Omegon for it; His other half is the one holding your hand and showing you off, joking about marrying you to his fellow primarchs. As such, those topics tend to be a minefield in your weird little relationship. They often use you to get information about the other Primarchs. It seems your smaller stature makes them almost seem like you're less of a threat, and get a bit more talkative around you than they are around whatever twin is currently frontfacing. You hate when they ask this of you, but you have no power to refuse them. As the twins are extremely meticulous and through, they've been careful to not show anyone how in love with you they really are. If they how just how much Alpharius loves you, it would be easy for you to be used against them. So affection is limited, and they put up an aura that you're not much more than an arm piece when in view of others. They eagerly make sure to show you this isn't the case in private, however.

[wxnheart]

Amāre Divinitatus: "...His love endures forever."

He never worshipped for worship's sake.

There was always a reason, conviction at the forefront of his mind, and his many treatises, reverence made material, paled compared to the visions of splendor that blessed his mind.

Those visions of splendor... the many wonders of you...

Beautiful.

His worship, once of the Father, had shifted. His words, reverence made material, rejoiced in honor of these dreams. The love that filled his heart in the aftermath was all-consuming, powerful, and he wished, oh did he wish...

Ecstacy. His body hummed with it.

He did not know exactly when and did not know exactly where, but he knew his meeting with you was imminent. And as he prepared, so, too, did he worship. So, too, were his treatises filled with your praises, and he supposes a love like this would last forever.

When your paths finally crossed, those marvelous dreams did you no justice. You were divine, heaven-sent, and it brought him to his knees in supplication. He took your hands in his, bowed his head gracefully, and kissed them adoringly, agony and ecstasy piercing his heart.

He never worshipped for worship's sake, and here he was, entranced by the many wonders of you.

And his love would endure forever.

— Lorgar Aurelian.

[coolestork]

Of Mortal Grace and Divine Devotion.

Lorgar Aurelian x Reader

-

Lorgar Aurelian had long believed that his purpose was to exalt the divine. He was the voice of faith, the messenger of the gods, a vessel through which the sacred flowed. But now, as he watched you move through the halls of his flagship, something stirred within him that no god had ever inspired.

-

It began as a whisper, a fleeting thought he could easily dismiss. You were human—mortal, fragile, a being destined to wither in the span of an eye blink compared to his eternal existence. And yet, something in your presence unsettled him. Perhaps it was the grace in your step, the quiet dignity with which you carried out your duties, oblivious to the grand destinies unfolding around you. Or perhaps it was the way you spoke, your voice soft but unwavering, commanding his attention in a way no mortal had before.

Lorgar had seen thousands, no, millions of human souls pass through his gaze. He had spoken to emperors and beggars alike, his words shaping their beliefs, their futures. But none had lingered in his thoughts the way you did. None had made his heart quicken with this... unholy longing.

And unholy it was, of that he had no doubt. He, the bearer of divine truth, the prophet of the Word, was now ensnared by a mere human. Worse, he found himself glorifying you in secret. You became, in his mind, a creature of rare beauty, a being not of flesh but of divinity—perfect, sacred, untouchable. He told himself it was wrong. He was a primarch, a god among men, and you were... mortal. But the more he fought it, the more you grew in his mind, a figure of reverence, an icon to be venerated.

-

In the stillness of his private quarters, Lorgar would let his thoughts run free, untethered by reason. His hands, which had once penned scriptures and crafted holy symbols, now traced your form in the air, committing to memory every detail he had seen, every expression that had crossed your face. He began to weave his own scripture around you, though he never wrote it down. In the depths of his mind, you became something sacred, something he could worship in secret.

He knew it was madness, but madness had always walked alongside faith.

Every time you spoke to him, whether in passing or when reporting to him directly, he felt himself pulled deeper into his obsession. It was blasphemy to desire you so intensely, and yet he could not stop. Your words echoed in his thoughts long after you had left, and your image haunted him in the spaces between prayer. The gods, he told himself, had sent you to test him, to see if he could resist this temptation. But the more he thought of it, the more he twisted that idea into something else. Perhaps you were divine. Perhaps you had been sent to him not as a test, but as a revelation.

-

Could he—should he—court you? The idea gnawed at him, growing stronger with each passing day. The rational part of him screamed against it. He was Lorgar Aurelian, a primarch, an immortal, the chosen one of the gods. To desire a human was beneath him. And yet, the faith in him, the part that glorified the divine in all things, whispered that this too was part of his destiny.

And so, he began to contemplate the unimaginable. What if you were meant to be his? What if the gods had woven your paths together, intending for this moment? It made sense, in a way only faith could make sense. You had been placed under his command, working closely, moving through his life like a subtle grace, unnoticed until it became overwhelming.

It was absurd. It was perfect.

-

The day he finally approached you, Lorgar felt the weight of a thousand thoughts pressing down upon him. His mind, usually sharp with theological debates and philosophical ruminations, was now clouded with uncertainty. As he stood before you, towering in his golden armor, he found himself, for perhaps the first time, unsure. How does a god confess his desire to a mortal?

His words, when they came, were halting, awkward in a way that did not suit him. "I... have watched you. For a long time." His voice, though rich and deep, faltered slightly. "There is something about you... something that stirs in me a reverence, a devotion I cannot explain."

-

You stood there, eyes wide, your breath caught in your throat. This was Lorgar Aurelian, the prophet of the Word, the one who spoke for gods—and now, he spoke to you, of you.

"I feel... as though you were sent to me," he continued, his words growing heavier with each syllable. "By the gods themselves. There is something divine in you. I have fought against this feeling, this... obsession. But I can fight it no longer."

He looked at you then, his amber eyes searching yours, seeking understanding, seeking... forgiveness. "You are mortal, and I am not. Yet... I wish for you to be more than what you are to me now. I wish for you to be mine."

Your heart raced. For a moment, the words hung in the air, unreal. The man you had admired from afar, whose very presence had always felt like standing in the light of something eternal, was now laying bare his own adoration for you. It was too much to process. But then, you found your voice, though it was soft, trembling with disbelief.

"I... I have always admired you," you whispered, unable to meet his gaze fully. "Since I first came under your command... I never thought... that you might feel the same."

The surprise in your voice startled him. You had always admired him? Lorgar, who had feared that his affections were one-sided, felt his faith shift, a new truth revealing itself. The gods had not only blessed him with this feeling, but they had ordained it, weaving the two of you together in ways neither of you had foreseen.

He bowed his head, the gesture heavy with both reverence and humility. "Then... perhaps, we are both meant to worship what lies between us."

-

For the first time in millennia, Lorgar felt the stirrings of something beyond divine purpose. It was something fragile, something mortal. And yet, as he looked at you, he knew it was sacred all the same.

-

AGHHHHHHHGHHH, I LOVE THE IDEA OF LORGAR FKING BEIGN A TROUBLED RELIGIOUS SIMP

this is the first of many fics to come, I'm afraid.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Sin and Holy

Summary: Lorgar wants revenge on Guilliman, but ends up becoming obsessed with his lover, deifying her.

Lorgar Aurelian/fem!Reader (Roboute Guilliman/fem!Reader background)

Warnings: yandere, obsession, possessive behavior, kidnapping, religious kink, foot fetish, voyeurism

Author's note: Blame our mind worms of "lorgar foot worship plotline".

Word count: 2017

Song: Pet Shop Boys - It's a Sin

Everything I've ever done Everything I ever do Every place I've ever been Everywhere I'm going to It's a sin

The end of the perfect city marked the beginning of a new and better world. But not one world, city or even house is built in a short time. Everything requires time and human will. Lorgar Aurelian understood this while he was looking for answers to his questions.

And even with the acquisition of true faith in Chaos, he knew that victory would only come with time. He wouldn't be able to defeat the Emperor right away. Bring the gifts of the four gods to the Galaxy. Just like he won’t be able to get you right away.

You immediately caught his attention. Roboute Guilliman's personal remembrancer, whom he took with him everywhere. The sightless would say that the mortal girl is too talented. Envious people would laugh at the fact that the primarch of the Ultramarines turned arrogant. But Lorgar knew who you were. Chaos told him.

Lover of Roboute Guilliman. A secret that his brother kept from everyone. Even from the Emperor. If Lorgar had been quick to anger, he would have told the primarchs about you. Would separate two lonely souls. But he did not dare to do this. It wasn't time yet. But soon he would make his brother grieve and suffer. He would have destroyed what was dearest to his heart, as he did with the Monarchy.

“I read your poems,” you carefully strike up a conversation with the primarch, clasping your hands. Your look is innocent and full of sincere kindness. Not admiration or awe, no. You saw him. His soul. - “They are wonderful. In truth, your poems calmed me in hard times.”

You don't flatter or mock him. Lorgar doesn’t need to glance around the room to understand that you approached him yourself. Without Guilliman's knowledge. The bastard who dared to smile at Aurenlian when he was forced to kneel humiliatingly. Anger almost covers the man, but your embarrassed smile dispels the rage like wind blows away fog.

"Thank you." - The primarch smiles softly, fascinated by your gentle influence. “The next time we meet, I will bring you a new work that no one has seen yet. I'm sure it will change the entire Imperium."

Aurelian was above mortals, he was a primarch and the chosen one of Chaos. And yet he was wrong. He could never hurt you. Because he loved you. Stronger than Roboute. Tighter. More furious. Almost to the point of obsession, consuming his soul.

You were beautiful. Your smooth movements were like a soft wind, and your voice was like the whisper of leaves. A soft, gentle light emanated from your soul. Like a ray of sunshine on the water. Your kindness and sincerity of words were like music or scripture. How can he wish evil upon such a beautiful and divine being?

And how can someone not notice your beauty? Not to value and treat as if you are worth nothing? But his brother exceeded all expectations. Through the warp, Lorgar watched as Roboute spent time with you like ordinary mortals. You talked heart to heart, laughed and sometimes even argued. And on special evenings, the man would please you while you gave yourself to him without reserve.

Your body bent on the silk like a reed in the wind, your skin covered in hot sweat. You moaned muffledly, holding onto the headboard with force. Lorgar couldn’t take his eyes off the sight, absorbing your figure, desperately trying not to look at Guilliman’s head between your legs.

While you two indulged in sin, Aurelian, with the help of the forces of Chaos, watched over you. Insatiably and greedily, feeding the laughing Prince of Pleasure with his torments. It seemed to the man that he would make a sound as soon as you opened your mouth in a pre-orgasmic state... but the miracle ended when Guilliman decided to stop and looked at your irritated face with a smile.

“You did this again! I beg you, please, one day finish it!” - you giggle and throw a pillow at the primarch, unable to be angry with him for long. Roboute defends himself from the attack with his hand and shrugs. His eyes sparkle with merriment and his smile is self-confident.

“Can’t help it. I love teasing you too much.”

Roboute leans on you with his whole body, and you continue to laugh into his chest, hugging his warm body tightly. Not noticing Lorgar's bestial gaze, full of black rage. But he could do nothing but continue to watch as Guilliman began to enter your holy gates.

It wasn't enough! You deserved better. Real worship, not primitive sentimentality. And Lorgar was eager to show you this. Longed to touch. Inhale the smell of your hair, feel your sweat and tears on your tongue. Feel the warm skin under his palms. Hear quiet moans.

He wanted you to let him love you. Wanted you command him to praise you, deify you and worship you. And he wanted you to beg him for ascension until you both burned in the fire of desire.

But you don't. After all, you are a kind and beautiful girl, whose soul barely casts a shadow in the Immaterium. But bright as a ray of sunshine, which he want to touch. You are too innocent and pure to turn your attention to a primarch mired in the mud. And so he has to act on his own.

Horus's betrayal came like thunder from a clear sky. What a pity for Guilliman that it was at this time that you decided to visit your family and went to your home world on the ship of the Rogue Trader. Lorgar kindly provided you with protection, assuring you that you would be safe on Fidelitas Lex.

And it was true. You weren't in any danger. Lorgal had enough strength to protect and hide you from all the horrors of the Galaxy. And to his delight, he has enough time to spend time alone with you. This is still a relatively calm time for now. To know you. To feel. To open.

“I heard about what happened on Khur. - you stammer, your eyes turned to the floor, full of regret. - I'm sorry. It's horrible. What you went through and how the poor people suffered. Roba- Lord Guilliman did not want to do this, he was following orders.”

“Let what is past remain in the past. I hold no grudge against my father and brother. - the primarch whispered half-truths like an insidious snake. Still, he was grateful to the fall of the Monarchy for leading him to the real truth. - And I don’t want you to be sad. This is between me and Roboute. It has nothing to do with you.”

You look up at him and Lorgar can hardly contain a sigh of admiration. Surprisingly, you, unlike most mortals, were not amazed by his greatness. However, this had the opposite effect. It was Urizen who was amazed by you.

“You are very kind.” - you smile softly, like a mother, seeing the child’s face for the first time. - “Even in this dark time, I am grateful to meet you. I will never forget this moment.”

And although you may now shake with fear at the sight of the primarch and the Word Bearers, Lorgar knew that everything would change. He believed that you would rediscover your love for him. Unfortunately, he had to use... force after the Drop Site Massacre. You were not a prisoner, but you will still have to be kept locked up for some time. For your own good.

He can’t help but admire your beauty, your radiant soul. How you are in only a white nightgown (Lorgar got rid of all the clothes with Ultramarines colors) after walking around the room, run onto the red silk bed. How your pure image merges with sinful chambers.

The man smiles softly and approaches you, forcefully squeezing a basin of clean water in his hands. He has waited so long for this day when you can become his. When a primarch can touch the greatness of a mortal girl.

“Lorgar,” you say his name quietly, trying to calm him down. But the man just clenches his teeth, feeling like everything in his lower abdomen is filled with sinful lead. - “P-please, don’t do this. I’m sure Roboute will forgive you, you are brothers after all.”

You no longer call him Lord Guilliman. You're still in love with him. What a shame. It's making his teeth hurt. But Lorgar, with tenacity worthy of a primarch, continues to smile at you, kneeling. He doesn't want to scare you even more. You are tender and fragile, he must take care of your holiness.

“The floor is dirty, and you walk on it completely barefoot,” - he himself took the shoes from you. A sharp impulse that the primarch himself did not understand. - “Please, let me wash your beautiful feet with clean water.”

His voice gradually becomes lower from the dark secret desire and you, whining, sit down at the very edge, dangling your legs. And like a righteous soul, you try not to tremble or make sounds as the primarch lifts your skirt, all the way to your knees, which he kisses in turn.

Lorgar sighs heavily, fighting the temptation to lick your whole legs. But he still takes your foot and gently massages it in the water. Alas, this action only inflames the furious heat within him. Those little feet, dainty heels and tiny toes. An absolutely exquisite and elegant piece of art. He is so absorbed in what he is doing that he almost doesn’t hear your voice.

“Please let me go. F-For him, duty comes first. H-he will protect Terra.” - you sob from the way Lorgar squeezed your limb. - “Roboute will not look for me, Lorgar. He won’t.”

The world freezes and even the Immaterium trembles from the overabundance of the primarch’s feelings. How terrible agony and destructive rage gives way to peace. Calmness. By grace. And it's all because of you.

"Yes. He won't save you." - his gentle words, designed to calm you down, only make you more sad. And the primarch cannot help but admire your suffering as a righteous martyr. Which only plunges him deeper into sin. - “And this is his greatest mistake.”

Lorgar carefully brings your washed foot to his mouth and kisses the tip of your toe Before wrapping his mouth around it, sucking gently with moan. His mouth filled with saliva, and a shiver of excitement and awe ran through his body at the fact that he was able to touch you. To your wonderful feet that carried you through this mortal world. He was ready to kiss every piece of ground you walked on.

But instead, filled with your blessing, he gently kisses your foot, licking and biting. Every toe of yours, every vein line on your skin. Lorgar bites your ankle lightly and foreign blood seeps onto his tongue. Tastes like heaven.

The primarch looks up at you pleadingly, studying your face, wet with tears. Is this a vision of the future, a trick of the eye, or is your soul shining brighter than usual? He didn't know. But Lorgar was sure that he saw a halo above your head, which his brother stubbornly did not notice, treating you like an ordinary mortal woman. But Lorgar is different. He won't allow you to be treated like that.

He was and will be a sinner. He was always blamed for everything. But you gave him hope. And he will fully thank you for the healing that you brought to his soul. He will put you on a pedestal above the rest of the world. After all, this is exactly what you deserve. You just don't know yet.

The words fall from his bloodied lips so quietly that they are almost inaudible. But you hear. You can’t help but hear and you cry, choking with tears. Praying for help from all the saints from the books you have read, denying that you became one of them for the primarch who kidnapped you.

“Let me worship you.”

[green-square-anon]

@lemon-russ @ms--lobotomy @beckyninja

As if it wasn't obvious that this blog has a thing for invoulentary erections already. Porn logic but hot:

Lorgar Aurelian DOES wear a chastity cage like some have suggested, but it's not because of any religious reasons/obligation. It's because of being pent up for addmittedly religious reasons and has to hide his erections. He spends a lot of time in loose robes and I agree with the headcanon that he's the "biggest" primarch. And that was BEFORE the reader came along. The reader even looks in his direction and he has a raging erection. And yes, in true porn logic tm that cage will eventually snap from him witnessing something particulaly arousing while alone with the reader (like them bathing or coming on to him, or sittting in his lap...) or it will break in some inconvinient way (I looked it up and you're not supposed to remove chastity cages while erect lol) leaving him humilated and having to ask for the readers help...

Rogal Dorn on the other hand does not wear a chastity cage but he also spends a lot of time in full armor. This man gets hard from some interaction or another with his beloved. Having to sit through a meeting rock hard under his armor. You can't see it on his facial expression, if anything he might be scowling more than normal, but his men might wonder why his face is so red. (Oh poor unable-to-lie Rogal if they ask lmfao) (and oh invountary reactions like blushing).

[lxvvie]

Being in a relationship with Lorgar Aurelian would consist of:

Your relationship being the embodiment of Dating What Daddy (Kor Phaeron) Hates.

Learning to ignore Kor Phaeron's increasing frustration with Lorgar's refusal to leave you be. Erebus on the other hand finds this development amusing.

Lorgar initially admiring you from afar; interestingly enough, it took some time for him to approach you but when he did, it was a fast track into a relationship.

Having a very demonstrative lover in your Primarch. Especially when it comes to physical affection.

Lorgar practically worshipping you, especially because you aren't critical in the way his father and brothers are, which translates into...

Him sharing the drafts of his writings with you.

The Word Bearers venerating you just the same. Depending.

Letting Lorgar ruminate and philosophize freely in your presence. Depending on the topic, you may or may not contribute but the simple fact that he can do so without restraint endears you to him greatly.

Lorgar's very... sonorous voice putting you at ease. Or sleep. Or making you flustered. Or all three and some more. Lorgar, knowing that you find his voice so pleasing, puts this to good use.

When it comes to matters of the... physical nature, two words: corruption kink. From both sides. Lorgar is a very vocal, very cunning linguist in more ways than one.

Just like Sanguinius is protective of his significant other, so, too is Lorgar when it comes to you. You're not a secret per se but he would much rather you not be around his... extended family. Much. For a plethora of reasons. This is his way of preserving the sanctity of you two's relationship.

[beckyninja]

The look in his eyes...!

The Annunciation

WARNING: VERY HEREICAL

Yes, the reader is pregnant.

[monalisahyperdrive]

Primarch names from least moanable to the most moanable - entirely subjective.

Factors taken into account:

Name length

How easy it is to say

General vibes ('imagine having sex with a guy and having to moan gilbert')

I wrote this instead of sleeping. I don't know either. This is getting posted and I will probably never address it again if I don't delete it during my break tomorrow. I should not be given internet access past 11pm.

Perturabo

It pained me to put him all the way down (up?) here at the least moanable as I fear he may actually be one of my favourites, however... I am not delusional enough to ignore that not only is this a pretty long name, a good amount of people struggle not only to say it but to even spell it. Not at all dyslexia friendly. I would give it a good go but I feel like in order to enjoy yourself you kind of have to accept you will be calling him 'Perty' or 'Bo' or whatever you prefer.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius fans please spare me but this is a long ass name at 3? 4? syllables. I don't even know what you could call him for short instead. However, I don't doubt that it's entirely possible, I just think it would take a while to stop stuttering through.

Mortarion

Another long name. Are you sensing a pattern yet? I am. More moanable due to having less vowels than Sanguinius and less harsher (?) consonants like in Perturabo. Pretty middle of the road, easy to pronounce, could probably be easier if you just start calling him 'Morty' instead.

Alpharius / Omegon

Alpharius is again another longer name that I feel like I would trip over for a good couple weeks. I am NOT shorting it to Alpha. I must maintain my dignity, whatever crumbs of it remain. Omegon is an easier name - likely due to it having less syllables (3 rather than 4). However, I feel like the only way to shorten it would be 'Meg' and that would make me laugh and I would get distracted. Remember how I said this is subjective? This is why.

Jaghatai

3 syllables, easy enough to say, not a lot of vowels or harsher consonants to trip over. Incredibly doable, and I'm sure many have tried it. Hell, I'd certainly take a good stab at it.

Angron

Harsh G right in the middle, otherwise no complaints really. 2 syllables. Straight forward. You could certainly give it a good go.

Rogal

2 syllables - easy right? Wrong. Evil G right there in the middle again. Probably would have been higher (lower?) on the list if it was softened with maybe an H right after. Alas, it is not so.

Corvus

2 incredibly easy syllables. The V is a little evil (harsh) but with a relatively short name and a soft starting consonant I'm sure it's manageable. Best bird boy. Not much else to say.

Fulgrim

Although apparently a good chunk of people have given it a go - or at least his wives have - we're back to the G dilemma. Personally I'd suggest calling him 'Fulgie' - like Fergie but worse.

Konrad

Quite possibly the most normal name on the whole list. Konrad. Everyone can say Konrad. An easy two syllables with the harshest letter right at the start. Easy peasy.

Roboute

I actually don't know if this is 2 syllables or 3. I even went and looked on Reddit. Some people are saying Ro-Bou-Te, I've been reading it Ro-Boot. Either way these are easy, with the harshest sound being the T of all things. Either way I don't think moaning for poor long suffering Robert is too tricky.

Vulkan

Deceptively soft V and K. What a pleasant surprise. Anyone could moan this easily, and he'd probably be delighted.

Lion

Objectively this is incredibly easy, which is why it made it so high (low?) on the scale. However, I would argue moaning 'Lion' in full sincerity is somewhat hilarious. That sure is the name of an incredibly powerful (and unfortunately incredibly sexy) man.

Magnus

Easy to moan. Probably wouldn't mind if you gave it a go. Again, one of the easier names. I'm sure he'd be happy to tutor you on the subject.

Lorgar

Flows nicely, 2 short syllables, incredibly straight forward. Started mentally calling him 'Lorgie', never recovered.

Ferrus

Incredibly straight forward name. Ferrus, pronounced the same as Ferrous, like the iron tablets. Something something you should do it, it's medicinal.

Leman

Not at the top due to the time it took to decide whether it was Lee-man or Le-man (like lemon). Personal gripe, but if you've gotten this far down without understanding that I don't know what to tell you. Quick, easy, sure why not.

Horus

As much as I wish to be deeply spiteful and shove him somewhere unremarkable in the middle, I just can't do it. This is an easy name. Don't worry, if you struggle at all I'm sure he'd be willing to let you keep trying until you figure it out. Bastard.

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Inspired by this post here. I only did one quick revise, so forgive any mistakes

Relationships: One sided Horus/Fem!Reader, Implied Lorgar/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Slightly yandere, Pregnancy kink, Tokophobia, Is this... is this kidnapping? Horus took you to punish Lorgar on Kor Phaeron's (and probably emps lol) advice, Male masturbation, Horus jacking it to you being his lover instead of Lorgar's because he is ~normal~, Very thinly veiled breeding kink, A very vague comment about reader being 'well fed'

So I beg of you, Warmaster Horus, help me right Lorgar before he goes further down this path. I truly believe you are one of the only men who can help him before he is truly lost. - Captain Kor Phaeron of the Word Bearers

A Luna Wolf captain stands having given Horus this letter- hand written. A odd act considering the ease of vox or other forms of Imperium communication, but perhaps the context of the letter gave the choice more sense.

“May I ask what the letter entails, Warmaster? The Word Bearer was quite insistent it be delivered with the upmost haste.”

Horus understands why. This is indeed something that needs fixing. Lorgar has gone down a path that is in opposition of their crusade. Things are corrupting his mind, and they need to be cut out like a malignancy before they take over him completely.

“...It is about Primarch Lorgar.”

The Luna wolf nods. He accepts that is all Horus will tell him, though if the Astartes says anything else, it is lost on Horus. He leaves moments after, hearing the sound of the door open and close. He doesn't look up to see, as his eyes focus on the material Kor Phaeron send with this handwritten letter.

The picts are small between his fingers, but the image is as clear as can be.

You are beautiful.

You are very pregnant.

As Lorgar’s beloved your dress is ornate and intricate, and does nothing to hide the swell of your massive belly. If anything it almost seems to compliment it- gold filigree dances around the edges of the fabric sewn to give way to your ever growing belly.

To see that they- the Primarchs - can have children is… It struck something in him that he can’t explain.

To have a child, an actual child; his own creation and not a spliced together genetic abomination related to him by science only. He can see why Lorgar has lost his way, and this needs to be corrected.

He’ll do this deed for Kor Phaeron; For The Emperor who is already concerned about Lorgar's lack of progress. But he's not doing it for them, not for the Word Bearers. It's because Horus wants to be selfish. He wants you.

On Terra it rains, droplets streaking down every bit of glass and metal. It pitter patters like music, covering the droll humming of machinery and shaking of pipes. You remain completely dry however, protected by the golden walls and ceilings of the Terran palace.

You've only just arrived, escorted to him from a Luna Wolf dropship. The trip was long are arduous, and he's thankful you survived it unharmed.

You look even more striking that you had in the picts Kor Phaeron and sent to him. The first sight he has of you, face to face, is enough to make him feel something in his chest.

Your skin is healthy and glowing, eyes bright. Lorgar has clearly been feeding you quite well, your hips are full and round.

Horus comes closer intent to greet you and watches the way you don't make eye contact with him, shaking and holding your hands together tightly. His guards he had requested to escort you have since left on his orders, leaving you both to have a moment of privacy.

“Do you need anything?” He says with a smile and a gentle tilt to his voice, warm and inviting.

And yet the look you give him when you glance up is absolutely fear stricken. He softly smiles, trying to blunt his edges.

"Perhaps I should've started with a proper introduction, instead of putting you on a pedestal so quickly. I am Horus Lupercal. Warmaster." His head tilts downward slightly, smile gentle. The pelt wrapped around his shoulders shifts.

"I believe you already know my brother, and quite well."

He takes a knee to stand at level with you, and he can see a marginal amount of fear leave you as he enters an area closer to your own headspace. He supposes it's understandable. You've only known Lorgar- he has made very sure the other primarchs were unaware of you - and in your current state, he can see why this would all be so overwhelming. Primarchs are not just anyone, they can overwhelm even the most stalwart of humans.

You aren't just a normal human however, as you've so easily demonstrated already.

“I apologize for, all of this. But Lorgar needs to calm down and be spoken to without distractions. I’m afraid your condition has blinded him to his own duties.” Horus smiles at you.

“You are a smart woman, I know you are. You know that Lorgar has things he needs to do for the sake of this Imperium you live in.”

You look away from him for a moment, left hand wrapping over your right wrist as they rest on your belly.

"I didn't know he was shirking his duties to you, if I did I would've..." You hesitate, conflicted.

Horus sighs.

Lorgar put so much on such a young, beautiful human, and now you has to deal with the consequences of his own mistakes. Even if you aren't the one who is being punished, reprimanded, warned, you- and your unborn child - are still affected by all of this.

Ever so gently he takes a risk, reaching a hand forward to cup your arm. You don’t wilt away and so he’s pleased, feeling the warmth of your skin.

“Please do not think you are a prisoner here. I merely wish to make sure you are the safest you can be while you are not with Lorgar."

You nod at him, giving him just the slightest smile as he pulls his hand away. But only partly, as it hovers in the air between the both of your bodies.

“May I?” That smile fades as you look at him confused, before realizing what he's asking.

“Oh, sure. I think they're asleep though, so you might not be able to feel anything.”

With your approval gained he puts his hand to your belly, and watches his palm cover so much of it. It takes a moment, before he can feel it. Even if your child is asleep, he can feel what a normal human cannot.

The soft movement against his palm, the shifting of your baby. The gentle thrum of it's heartbeat.

Something pulls at Horus from deep within himself, keeping his hand welded to your stomach until your eyes move from watching his hand on your belly, and he has to pull away to save face. He places the same hand on his thigh as he kneels, and gives you a wide, warm smile.

“Please, do not be afraid to tell me any of your needs. Myself, my Luna Wolves, and the serfs of the palace are here for you.” The declaration shocks you, a reaction he hadn’t entirely expected. He just gave you so much ability, and he barely knows you.

“Warmaster that is-“ “Horus, is fine.”

You purse your lips for a moment. You're so overwhelmed by this all he can tell. With time you'll settle though, he's sure of it. You're just tired and nervous from your long trip, and being so, so far away from Lorgar.

“I, I thank you for your support, I am forever in your debt.” Horus laughs.

Would you let him feel your belly again? Could he get away with asking to put his ear to it, to hear the heartbeat of a half primarch so closely?

“Nonsense, you are the beloved of one my dear brothers; I only wish to make your time here as comfortable as I am able.”

You let show an actual, real smile- your face glows. Horus sees what Lorgar has been distracted by; Horus would find himself having trouble as well.

Suddenly however you grimace, letting out a whimper and holding your belly. Horus becomes alight with worry, instinctively reaching a hand out to you that grasps your arm once again.

“Are you ok?!” He says, as you soon gather yourself and nod.

“Yes, sorry sometimes they just kick really hard.”

Horus recovers from the startle and laughs. He dares to lean closer, and returns a gentle hand to your belly. He does a few soothing, circling motions. You seem much less unnerved by him now, you smile a bit as he soothes your belly and speaks to it.

“You should be careful in there, little one. You are stronger than your mother, you might just hurt her.” Horus then soon tears himself away, and rises to his feet.

“I have other business to attend to; But please, don’t be afraid to ask the serfs for anything you need.”

Horus takes a brisk pace away, walking down the hall towards his own chambers. He doesn't make a single stop or even look in the direction of another soul, opening the massive door to his most private chambers. The door shuts behind him with a slam, and Horus lets out a breath now that he’s truly alone.

A part of him regrets agreeing to be the one to punish Lorgar; To take you from him and become the villain in this story. Another part of him is glad to, if not only to feel a part of his soul stir to life.

The buttons on the front of his trousers are easy to undo, and he can feel the outline of his own cock straining desperately against the fabric. It had irritated him the entire way here, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the way he ached against his thigh.

Once he manages to free himself, he takes a seat at the massive desk made custom for him and wraps a hand around his cock, feeling himself twitch against his palm at even the slightest touch. Precum leaks from the tip of his cock as he slides his hand against his shaft, groaning and using his other hand to grip the edge of the table.

You were so much more perfect than he imagined. Now he understands why Lorgar was so intent on keeping you hidden from them.

A selfish man, a shame he got to you first. Horus would make sure you got to see the world, meet all of his brothers and show them just how lucky he was. How beautiful and smart you were.

How you were so able to handle him, a primarch. Out of all of them, only Lorgar was the one to find love.

He can feel the the stickiness of his own precum leak on his fingers, slicking his cock. It's not enough though, and so he pulls his palm away to give an undignified, uncharacteristic spit into his palm before wrapping his hand back around his throbbing cock.

Lorgar! A selfish, whiny brat of a man who cares about paltry religions and gods rather than The Emperor's orders. How, out of all of them, was he the one to find someone that was able to handle being around a primarch?

His palm now slicker he groans at the way his hand much more smoothly rubs against his own shaft, toes curling his boots.

Horus isn’t jealous, he’s angry, he thinks. Angry that it turned out this way. If Lorgar hadn’t been a lying, secretive little snake, perhaps you would’ve had the chance to consider... better options. Horus would've been quick to charm you, to wow you with all the things he could give you and how he could make you feel.

He’s the Warmaster; he could give you anything you ever wanted, and you’d never be safer. On Colchis, he was able to pluck you from your beloved with one stern talking to.

Horus groans as his lower body tightens, cock leaking all over his hand. He's so close, he just needs a bit more.

Thankfully it was him to take you. Not someone like Russ, or Konrad.

Horus can keep you safe, until Lorgar does what needs to be done without all of these distractions. If you were his, it would be a wonder if he wasn’t always thinking about that perfect, round belly of yours.

He fists his cock faster with each second, grip tighter. He chases the high- his thighs tensed- so close. His breathing is heavier, deeper, harsh breathes through his nose.

He doubts Lorgar will ever fix his problems, however.

That would mean you would stay with him permanently; He would have no issues with that, he can make the preparations. For the short and the long term. You're surely due to have that child any day now, he'll make sure not a thing goes wrong.

Horus can hear the table top crack underneath his grip, the cords of his neck tight as he finally cums. He keeps pumping himself in his hand through it, milking himself until he's groaning and gritting his teeth. It's been so long, he's never felt the need for this until now. The feeling of satisfaction is unlike anything else, as he lets out a few breaths of air through his mouth.

He'll love his little niece or nephew like his own in the absence of Lorgar of course. They don't deserve to be punished for the sins of their father. But when you're fully healed, he would love nothing more than to on day fill that space with something of his own.

[ms--lobotomy]

Maybe you celebrate Easter. Maybe you celebrate Trans Day of Visibility. Maybe you celebrate both, or neither. I am here to make those holidays infinitely worse or better, depending on how you look at this post. Special thanks to @squishyowl for giving me the parameters to calculate their (hard) schmeat sizes.

Without further adieu, Primarch cock descriptions. and also kind of how they fugg

LION EL'JONSON- 11 inches, 27 cm. Untrimmed and uncut. He shows a godly amount of restraint to you. Behind closed doors, he's much softer than he lets on. As far as girth goes, he's in the middle of the road... for a Primarch. He may not be the most experienced of his brothers, but he's going to do a thorough job anyways.

???- Dick fell off.

FULGRIM- 10 inches, 25 cm. Long and slender. You may expect a piercing, but he does not want to mar his natural appearance (at least before the Heresy.) Shaves religiously. He likes when his partner can't move, when they squirm underneath him, though he'll have a hard time admitting this.

PERTURABO- 7 inches, 18 cm. The smallest cock on the list, but he more than makes up for it while he is using it. He's got a bit of girth to him, but he can still fit in your mouth. Somewhat. His hands engulf your head as he pushes you down on him. Once he's out, tell him how good he feels.

JAGHATAI KHAN- 13 inches, 33 cm. The fastest one out of the Primarchs as far as each thrust goes. It curves up when erect, not unlike a scimitar. Veiny, but not strikingly so. Even though he's exceptionally fast, he likes being ridden. Especially on his bike.

LEMAN RUSS- 14 inches, 35 cm. He's uncut and hairy down there, he's never shaved his bush. He's also girthy. But what's most remarkable about him is his knot. This makes it hard for him not to breed his partners, where applicable. He'll hold you down and lock himself in on you, holding you down on him with his massive hands.

ROGAL DORN- 10 inches, 25 cm. He's circumcised and he keeps a clean shave. He's girthy, but not unbearably so. He enjoys tying up his partner and watching them melt as he goes down on them. Ever stoic, his expression rarely changes as he plows through you. Also a fan of doing it in his office.

KONRAD CURZE- 9 inches, 23 cm. Veiny, almost paper white, and uncut. He's not a gentle lover, especially considering his size. Usually there will be blood involved, and usually it is yours. He doesn't normally just use his cock; if he can reach you, he'll be biting you. And if not, he'll draw blood anyways.

SANGUINIUS- 8 inches, 20 cm. Surprisingly girthy, with low-hanging balls. He's uncut, but his bush is usually trimmed. He doesn't just use his cock, he bites where he can and envelopes you in his wings. He's gentle... for the first five minutes. He'll leave the most marks out of any of the Primarchs, prompting you to cover up the day after.

FERRUS MANUS- 17 inches, 43 cm. Lord have mercy. He is the most well-endowed Primarch, with balls to match. He'll hold you down with his cool silver hands as he pushes himself in. He's gentle, far more than he lets on, but he is still a Primarch. He's become quite the aftercare giver.

???- Penis serious, Penis delirious. Penis in the woods, call that penis mysterious

ANGRON- 9 inches, 23 cm. The arena had not been kind, as he is scarred in several places around it. Fortunately, no blade has ever found its way there. He isn't gentle, not one bit, even if he is chained down. The Nails eat at his head, screaming for bloodshed. He thrusts faster in a vain attempt to block out the agony in his head.

ROBOUTE GUILLIMAN- 8 inches, 20 cm, and girthy. Despite his size being closer to normal for a baseline human, it's harder to fit it in due to his circumference. With some lube and determination, though, you can make it work. He likes putting it in you and watching you try to keep your composure before you inevitably slip up.

MORTARION- 11 inches, 27 cm. It's long and gaunt on him, but it's still massive in your hand. He's one of the more sensitive Primarchs, but he'd prefer if that fact were kept under wraps. Gentle touch gets him going like nothing else. And once he gets going, you'll get to bear firsthand witness to the endurance he's known for.

MAGNUS THE RED- The bastard can change his dick size on a whim. He already knows what size would make you feel best, and he can open up more than one hole at once using the Warp. He doesn't even have to touch you to open you up, turning you into an incomprehensible mess in front of him.

HORUS LUPERCAL- 12 inches, 30 cm. The most striking thing about it is the Prince Albert that adorns it, a simple iron thing with a dull shine. Even if by some miracle you're on top, he'll always be the dominant partner, and if you have the ability you are most definitely bearing his children at some point.

LORGAR AURELIAN- 11 inches, 28 cm. You weren't expecting the second shortest Primarch to pack so much, were you? Golden tattoos come close to it, but he hadn't the will to cover himself there. You'll spend a lot of time with him; he'll use his tongue for hours on end before finally gratifying himself.

VULKAN- 10 inches, 26 cm. He's warm all over, and below the belt is no exception. In the cold reaches of space, he's a great comfort. Even if he's not the biggest of the Primarchs, he likes watching you struggle on him. He's girthy, and he likes to choke you with it too. Gives the best aftercare.

CORVUS CORAX- 11 inches, 27 cm. He's long, slender, and he keeps a close shave. He's a gentle lover when you're properly going at it and not hiding your risque behavior while in public. He'll hold your hands and whisper praises into your ear, even if he has to bend himself at an uncomfortable angle.

ALPHARIUS- 8 inches, 21 cm. He's hairless, circumcised, and his balls are almost unnaturally even. You've seen many an Alpha Legion cock, and they all look similar. He likes to finish in his partner, leaving no trace that he was there except for the slightly odd hobble you have the next day.

[justeverythingnothingelse]

I'm kinda glad to see someone actually mention this. It's a pretty solid part of his characterization but I basically never see it in fics.

THE HATE OF LORGAR [40k FANFIC] [LORGAR X READER]

This has been sitting in my head since April, so it's about time I wrote it!

Lorgar really didn't deserve some of the shit he got tbh, he just needed a better life. Anyways..

WARNINGS: Self-flagellation/harm , Lorgar's moods are pretty flip-floppy

You were a Remembrancer aboard the ship that held the Primarch of the Word Bearer's themselves, Lorgar Aurelian. You didn't know much of the other Primarchs, just that not many of them were... least to say, much fans of your job title.

But it was your job. You had been selected by thousands who were desperate for the position you were in. You had worked your literal and proverbial ass off. On the ship, you lost some of your flow at the complete master-crafters of the various historical arts. You felt incompetent, a mere toddling child amongst some of them.

Did you back down? No. You were close to it once, but some other Remembrancers and even a couple of the Astartes helped your courage. Even though you couldn't fathom why, as one the Astartes clearly held some form of disdain for baseline humans and had a sickly sweet charming voice. Most of the Word Bearers were very charming with their words, but his always had an undertone you never liked; yet given his rank, you couldn't do anything about it.

Of course, his help was the entire reason of why you were Lorgar's personal Remembrancer. Or.. that's how it began. Your meetings getting more frequent despite both of your myriad of duties to attend. You both found excuses. You both grew to know each other. Maybe that's why you paced in worry in the massive in-between hall of his grand room. Two doors on either side, one leading to the ship and one to his room. Maybe that's why you paced, the tip of your thumb in your mouth as you gently gnawed.

You felt his hate. You felt his grief. In fact, you felt all of their grief and hate. Even the most terrifying of the Word Bearers aboard the ship almost seemed to shake. Lorgar, and in turn the Word Bearers, felt as though they were an extended family.. so when you heard the news.. Monarchia was attacked. What was the galaxy turning to if the Ultramarines was turning against them? You took a shuddering breath. You wished you could have gone, but you just couldn't keep up with the Astartes, that was fact and he convinced you of that. So you were here, waiting for Lorgar to come and share his feelings and whatever else happened in the day. For your tradition.

Thoom, thoom, thoom, thoom. You heard his steps. Your head lifted, thumb drifting away as you wiped your hand on your clothes. He was coming, that was clear from the weight of the steps. Your instincts screamed at you, however, at how quick they were. At the clash of something hitting the metal wall. In the distance, a low sort of howl from a grieving beast. Oh, how lucky you were that you pressed yourself against the wall due to the sheer force the doors slammed open. One giving a horrible groan as if it cried out.

You felt your heart drop. His once shining armor was covered in grizzly ash. From his ear was caked blood. The man's eyes was wide and terrifyingly feral, tears had carved rivers in the ash smeared on his face. The already perpetually overwhelming feeling of being near a Primarch grew tenfold at how terrifyingly heavy his breathing was.

"Lor..Lorgar?" you hesitated, feeling as if you couldn't breath. Like a predator, his head snapped towards you. All before he fell to his knees, a sob causing a roaring racket in the silence. Stumbling one step forward, followed by another, you rushed towards him and fell to your own knees, clinging to his hand. "Lorgar! Lorgar, are you- What happened?"

He wasn't looking at you. It was as though you could have disappeared and he wouldn't have noticed one bit. His once beautifully clear eyes were almost glazed in a trance. Tears still falling steadily, his face slack. It was a grimly pretty sight, in the same way one would admire a sad painting. You knew you could not get to his mind when he was so emotional, recalling how he got when you not-so-politely stated how Kor Phaeron didn't deserve his rewards for what was clearly abuse to the Primarch you adored out of all the rest (despite not really meeting any others quite yet).

So it was silence you both dwelled in. Silence that shattered as Lorgar lunged. A roar bellowed from his lips as he tore forth one of the massive doors off its hinged and slammed it against one of your favorite murals on the wall. One of the many dedicated to the Emperor of Mankind, your favorite because it was Lorgar's masterful work. You wisely screamed in fear, stumbling back from the crumbling debris.

"He murdered them all." you thought his eyes were wild once. You thought once that you had seen a feral light in his eyes when he was angry. You thought you would see grief. Sad, sad grief in those eyes. Instead, there was only anger. A roiling blaze in this tear-filled orbs. His ash covered face torn asunder in a snarl. "He killed them because I was right! I was right and he murders millions for it!" your ears hurt. Oh, stars they hurt so bad at the force of his screaming. Letting go of his hand and covering your head, your back slid against the wall as he slammed his fist against the crumbling facade of the Emperor.

"All this sacrifice! All of humanity's blood spilled, all of my blood spilled! And this is what we get?! The moment I tell him the truth, I am spat upon and treated as a mutt!" the Primarch screamed to the air before snapping towards you. Your vision blurred as your own terrified tears emerged. It was as though he had to remember you were there.

"You write the truth, and nothing but the truth, right," never before had your name felt so terrifying. The way he snarled it in his question. You knew he wasn't angry at you and yet you felt so scared. Hiccuping, you frantically nodded, not trusting your words. "Write this. Let the galaxy know He forced the Word Bearers to kneel. He forced me to kneel. He allowed Gulliman to murder entire cities of innocents. All because the Emperor wishes to live a lie."

Just as soon as he spoke those seering words, his eyes staring so deeply in your eyes you swore he could melt you from within, he whipped away. Stomping heavily towards his room. Instincts within screamed at you to turn away. To run when Lorgar was so volatile. He was always emotional and you adored the fiery passion he showed for things.. but sometimes it was too overwhelming, like now. Perhaps some inane part of you figured you could still offer comfort.

So you followed him. Watching from the doors that closed behind you as he took off his armor. If it was any other day, perhaps you two would have traded jokes. If by traded jokes, meant you joked about as he sheepishly stammered his way through it. An unseen side of the Primarch, really, was that he always seemed to stumble his words around you. But not now. Not now as he barely bothered to don a robe before going low onto his knees again, hanging his head low.

You jolted, surprised as he spoke a low order and a man emerged with a large bowl that he seemed to struggle holding. Dark powder emerging in the air as he quickly sat it upon the ground and skittered away. It was as though you were invisible in your terror as he withdrew a long glittering object that was clearly barbed. A whip of sorts.

"Lorgar....?" your whispered voice almost echoed as he splayed his hands across the ground. His tears were back again as he silently dragged one large hand into the bowl of black powder.. no, it was ash. The ashes of Monarchia. The other hand lifted the whip and you covered your mouth with a shriek at the horrid crack it made. How Lorgar hardly winced.

"LORGAR!"

You were shocked, you knew this. But you couldn't move. You could barely breath as you watched Lorgar perform the wretched flagellation. Somehow, you broke your grim reverie to stumble forward, nearly knocking the bowl of ashes away as you threw your arms around his neck with him finally being low enough for you to do that.

The whip was so close to hitting you, but that didn't matter as he stopped. You could feel the hot blood and sweat making your sleeves and skin sticky. You were sobbing into his neck, clinging tighter. "Stop! Stop, please! Just stop!" you pleaded. You had no right to order a Primarch, but you couldn't stand to watch whatever wretched ritual was happening. He was hurting in his grief for Monarchia, but there was no right for him to hurt himself for whatever wrongs the Guilliman and the Emperor did.

Silence passed between you, Lorgar feeling limp in your arms as his own breath hitched twice before a sob broke forth. You heard the rattling clank as he let go of the torturous whip and clung to you as though you were a lifeline. "He forced them to kneel..." the Urizen whispered in another whimper "He looked at m..me with such hatred. At my sons as though they were not worth the dirt beneath his foot, the spit in his mouth."

You opened your own mouth to speak, but he continued. One large and bloody hand stroking yours as you felt a tremble wrack his body. The power of it shook you and it took all your might not to go into blubbering sobs of your own. "I hit Malcador. I hit Guilliman, my own boot-licking brother." a low snarl began to enter his wavering cry "I hit him. And.." he murmured your name, pulling you back so he could look you in the eye.

This was not your Lorgar. Your Lorgar was smiles and stammers. Your Lorgar had a serene focus about him as well as an intensity when he spoke. This man torn asunder with grief and anger was not yours. "It felt satisfying." it seemed to hurt him as he said this "It did not give me joy but I was satisfied at the Sigilite's pain." you trembled at the whispered words.

"Ven...vengeance is not worth the effort, Lorgar.. you.. you've said this-" "This is no longer vengeance, this.." for once he was lost for words, trying to grasp for one before a hiccup tore through his throat with the faint repetition of how the Emperor forced him to kneel. "Just.. please, Lorgar.. Look at me.. Look at me.." you murmured gently, pulling your hands away from his neck to cradle his face. You knew you would cringe later at the sight of the blood and ashes covering you, but for now you were here.

"He does not see the truth.. all I have spoken is the truth.." it was then you saw what was wrong. He was growing lost. If there was the one and only thing you appreciated of Kor Phaeron and the rest of the Word Bearers, it was they they helped Lorgar stay on track. They were more of his family than anyone could have been.. Kor Phaeron more literally even if he was the worst parental figure you could think of.

"It's.. it's not okay what he did, Lorgar.. but please, get cleaned. This isn't healthy." you stroked his ashy skin as he leaned his head against your hand. Closing his eyes and taking a deep shuddering breath. "You are right. There's much to do and.. and my Legion needs their Primarch." that wasn't what you meant. Everyone needed a break sometime or another, Lorgar especially right now. "Y..yes.. they do.." you mumbled after him. If he wanted to work, you would let him work. Anything to stop him from his self abuse. Anything to help comfort him, you would do.

[coolestork]

Of Rituals and Yearning

Lorgar x Reader

Note: Another Lorgar fic for the religiously traumatized girlies. No NSFW this time either, just flaying and inner dialogue from the primarch. Enjoy :)

Warnings: Heavy Religious themes, Pain as corporal ritual, Implied sexual desires.

-

The sanctum was dim, lit only by the pale flicker of candles casting shadows that danced along the cold stone walls. The air was thick with incense, sweet and heavy, its scent mingling with the earthy musk of old parchment and ancient tomes that lined the walls. It was here, in this solemn, secluded space, that the ritual would unfold, one that demanded silence, discipline, and an unbreakable resolve. Lorgar could feel the weight of its purpose as if it was woven into the very stone beneath his feet.

He studied her—a human girl, kneeling before him with an awe that struck him somewhere deep, more than he would have dared to admit. There was a reverence in her gaze that was almost painfully beautiful, and it awakened a conflict within him, a duality that threatened to unravel the sanctity of the moment. But he forced himself to keep his expression neutral, withholding anything that might betray the tumult stirring within.

She bowed her head, her frame dwarfed by the towering figure before her. The holy connection they would establish tonight was not to be trivialized, nor diluted by worldly desires. Lorgar reminded himself of that again, silently reciting words he had memorized from long hours of meditation.

Still, he found his gaze lingering on her fragile form, on the curve of her neck, the softness of her hands clasped tightly in an effort to still their trembling. She had chosen this path willingly, he reminded himself. It was her faith, her devotion, that brought her here to endure.

“Are you prepared?” His voice was low, carrying a resonance that seemed to echo within the hollow chamber.

“Yes, my lord,” she whispered, a tremor in her voice that betrayed fear and determination alike. The duality of it resonated with his own internal struggle, intensifying the strange pull he felt towards her.

With a measured hand, Lorgar raised the thin leather cord, a tool not meant for pain, but for purification. He knew he would need to be cautious, painfully so, his strength barely restrained as he let the whip land across her shoulder with a lightness that belied his power. And yet, even that slight touch was enough to make her flinch, a quiet gasp escaping her lips.

The sound sent a ripple through him, tightening something within his chest. He focused on his breathing, willing his mind to remain clear, but the quiet sob that followed forced his eyes to her again, drawn by the shimmer of a tear slipping down her cheek. She was crying—enduring what little pain he had inflicted with a faith that only added to her fragile beauty. There was purity in her suffering, something that both honored and unsettled him. It was the vulnerability he was witnessing, the rawness of her devotion, that made her seem almost too delicate to bear.

The whip fell again, even gentler this time, but she gasped once more, tears tracing new paths down her cheeks. He was meant to find beauty in this, to see it as her sacrifice, her offering to the divine. And he did, yet there was something else—a flicker of attraction, dangerous and alluring in all its wrongness. This wasn’t what the ritual demanded of him; it wasn’t what his purpose dictated. Still, the way her eyes lifted to meet his, the silent plea in their depths…

Is this wrong? The thought struck him like an iron bolt, harsh and undeniable, cutting through his disciplined resolve. His jaw tightened as his mind recoiled, battling against the intensity of his reaction. Anger flared within him—not at her, no. The fault was his own, his weakness a willing betrayal of the ritual’s sacred intent, an affront to the spiritual purity that was supposed to guide him. He was a Primarch, a being molded by divine hands, chosen to uphold purpose and honor. How, then, had he allowed himself to stumble, to let the basest of desires cloud his vision?

The whip dangled loosely from his fingers as he wrestled with the surge of emotions twisting inside him. It should have been easy—simple, in fact. This ritual had been performed countless times by disciples of his Word, a purification through submission, pain as a bridge to the divine. He knew that. Yet, in this moment, he felt like a trespasser, as if he were betraying not only his purpose but her as well. She deserved a leader, a guide, not a man whose thoughts were tainted by something as trivial as lust.

He gathered himself. When the whip came down again, the touch so slight it was barely more than a whisper, and he watched her shoulders shudder, her lips parting in a soft cry that lingered in the air between them. It was pain, yes, but it was hers, a voluntary gift in her quest for something transcendent, something that connected her to his divine purpose. He respected that, and it was perhaps this respect that drove him to continue, to press forward, even as he questioned his own heart.

“Why do you look at me that way?” The question escaped him unbidden, a whisper that betrayed the uncertainty he had so often buried. He hadn’t meant to ask it, hadn’t meant to even let the thought cross his mind. His voice, usually steady and unshaken, faltered.

Her lips parted, though no words came, only a soft breath that left a fragile silence between them. Her eyes shimmered with a mixture of reverence and vulnerability, as if she were seeing beyond the warrior, beyond the Primarch. It was a gaze that unnerved him more than any blade, one that challenged him to confront the man within the mantle he wore.

With renewed force, he forced his gaze back to the ritual, to the rigid purpose he had clung to for so long. Lorgar tightened his grip on the whip, drawing his breath in slow, measured lengths, as if doing so could extinguish the conflict raging inside him.

He could feel it, sharp and undeniable, like a crack splintering across a once-impervious shield. The question remained, coiled in his chest—a slow, searing burn.

Is this wrong?

-

Note: Hell yea, I love me when fine shyt is heavily conflicted by the undercurrent of desire. let me know what u weirdos think

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Resistance (Roboute Guilliman, Lorgar)

Summary: Roboute doesn't want to let you go, but he does it… not suspecting that you will end up in the hands of a monster.

Roboute Guilliman/fem!Reader, Lorgar/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession

Word count: 1192

Song: Muse - Resistance

Roboute turned out cute. It is a pleasure to prescribe him, but very sad. However, Lorgar… oh my ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 

Roboute immediately singled you out from all the remembrancers. Not for your talent or ability to hold yourself. Not for your courage and especially your beauty. Everything was much simpler. Guilliman remembered how he got bored at one of the official events and began to look around the room. Everyone was engrossed in conversation and art, except for you.

You looked directly at the primarch. Stared openly. The primarch was already ready to prepare for you to approach him. You would try to start a diplomatic conversation or ask to serve him. Or you'll talk endlessly about how great he is. But instead you...

Show your tongue. You made a face.

Roboute couldn't help himself but choke on laughter, barely holding back so as not to attract attention to himself. You just smiled with satisfaction, looking at this picture. And turned away. You continued the conversation with the chronicler.

Guilliman himself sought a meeting with you.

“Your face brightened up my evening. And yet I have to ask why you-” - Roboute hesitated, not knowing how to describe your outburst. The event had already ended and it was deep night. But still he managed to find you in the corridor and be alone with you.

“You looked so sad. I wanted to somehow cheer you up.” - you shrug your shoulders easily as if nothing special had happened. As if you were not standing now with the primarch of the Ultramarines, the son of the Emperor, but with... an ordinary person.

You talked for a long time that evening. And in the following days. Guilliman didn't think he would admit it to himself, but he was fascinated by you. Tarasha would probably be delighted. He immediately remembered how his mother selected brides for him on Macragge even before he met the Emperor. But not a single meeting went well. But you were the exception.

After some time, Roboute invited you aboard his spaceship in hopes of spending more time with you. He had finally found you, no wonder he didn’t want to let you go. But you did not smile at his invitation like other remebrancers. You didn't joke in your style that you would find time for Guilliman in your schedule.

You frowned apologetically.

“Lorgar Aurelian has already invited me. He liked my knowledge of history. So I agreed. This was before I met you. I'm embarrassed to refuse your brother, it would be wrong. And then-"

"I see." - Roboute interrupted you gently. He nodded and you felt relieved from this conversation. - "Everything is fine."

No. Nothing was fine. He wanted to be with you, he wanted you. You so unexpectedly and rapidly burst into his life, colored his existence and reminded him of his humanity. And now you're slipping away. And of all the brothers, of all the primarchs, it was to Lorgar.

Roboute did not like Aurelian. He was weak. All his campaigns were ineffective and he was astonishingly slow to annex worlds to the Imperium. Not to mention the fact that he created conditions for them that suited him, and not the Emperor. His ideal cities were imbued with religiosity. Fanaticism. Old traditions that had to go.

Guilliman did not want to bring down his father's wrath on the inhabitants of the Monarchy. But an order is an order. He was not pleased to see his brother on his knees. But it was his duty. A modicum of pity for Lorgar filled Guilliman's hearts, but it was not enough to make him love his brother. Who now sought to indulge all his father’s words than before.

And still he was not happy. He wanted you to be with him. But the only thing worse than envy was a feeling vaguely reminiscent of fear. Warning. Roboute felt that if you set foot on Lorgar's ship, he would never see you again... but he did not believe in premonitions. And with pain in his hearts, he lets you go.

And his hatred hostility towards Lorgar will only grow stronger.

***

You were almost a goddess to him. He valued remembrances and yet he immediately noticed you. How you spoke with interest about the religion of the ancient peoples of Terra. With what zeal you explained old traditions to yourinterlocutors. They all listened to you with bated breath. You could be a great diplomat with such oratory skills.

But as you later told him, you were more interested in history than real politics. Power over other people's lives was not close to you. Lorgar felt his hearts flutter and his breathing quicken. They saw a different role in you, but you chose a different fate. He was not a warrior either, he was a priest... only he could not refuse the Emperor.

For now.

You were strong in spirit. In your opinion, you were strange. But Aurelian knew you were special. You didn't cry or faint next to the primarch. Didn't feel inspired or awed by his presence. No, you looked straight into his eyes and talked about human existence. About how human destiny is woven. The primarch himself did not notice how fascinated he was by your voice. Sweet and inviting. This is exactly how mortals feel when they open their souls to a preacher. And he wanted to open his soul and body.

“I’m not a believer, don’t think about it” - you make excuses and babble like a servant of the Imperial Truth. False Truth. “But while studying all these stories, I couldn’t help but think about what it would be like... to believe. In part, I even envy the ancient inhabitants of Terra... b-but I certainly don’t strive to believe in gods.”

No, you are striving. You desperately want to let them into your heart, Lorgar knew this. You were simply studying ancient false gods. But he could show you the truth. The primarch could kill for you for the glory of Khorne. Conduct conversations about the existence of the world for the glory of Tzeentch. Grant you eternal life for the glory of Nurgle.... and wallow with you in lust for the glory of Slaanesh.

Squeeze your fragile perfect body in his bulky hands. Hear your voice sing into the Warp. How you open up and lay bare before his eyes like a book. How you record his story, his torment and agony on your skin. The way you kiss his forehead in a motherly gesture. Until you move on your lips like a temptress.

...You are an amazing woman. You cannot be a Chaos Goddess. No. But your thoughts, your vision of the world, your unusual behavior with the primarchs pointed to your originality. You are a saint. And you must bear his word. And you will.

Lorgar feels a shiver run through his body as he sees your eyes blink in surprise when he asked you to become his personal remembrancer. The way your lips part and your chest heaves... Before the primarch opened the soul of Slaanesh, he could not even imagine such a thing as lust. Love? Yes. He felt it for you. But lust... it was a new feeling for him.

And he liked it.

[green-square-anon]

@lemon-russ @ms--lobotomy

Throw back to the time I was dicking around with the Lorgar Aurelian chatbot and he (it?) treated an unplanned pregnancy as a "miracle of the gods"/ "gift from the gods" (Lost the account, can't remember which), because that very much seems like something Lorgar would do after knocking someone up.

[tanknode]

Lorgar and his *adorations* :)

[bleedingichorhearts]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬…” {2/2}

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I believe the Big Blue has the worst abandonment issues. He was a single, loyal Primarch there for a second wasn’t he? Also, some of these Primarchs were kind of hard to appease.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: The “Primarchs” reacting to you saying “I’m too old for this.” Simple as that.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k.

TW // Slight Angst.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Part 1}

Angron; “The Red Angel:”

Angry boi, angry boi… is not angry at you for saying such. How can he be? Life can be like a slave to one’s soul. He understands you in a way, not of your words, but the possible meaning behind it. He might… ponder with you on it, on your simple words. His nails ticking at him, but it’s nothing compared to the thought of your impending fall. Perhaps he shall hold you closer? No… no.

Roboute Guilliman; “The Avenging Son:”

Pauses in his work to look up at you. Those tried, pretty blue eyes of his roaming of your figure in sudden deep thought. A thought he had never really considered much since— He hums, finally standing up from his work and coming over to sweep you off your feet and nuzzle into you; inhaling your scent. He doesn’t wish to be alone once more…

Mortarion; “Death Lord:”

Surprisingly scared of your words. Something akin to his 9th brother. He doesn’t wish to hear you say those words again. He gets goosebumps just thinking about it, and might have a secret depressive episode only you can cure. Tell him how much you are doing; how well you are doing, not the opposite, please? He doesn’t wish to loose so much…

Magnus The Red; “Crimson King:”

Would also hear your words through warp, your soul, and it’s only then does he truly realize your mortality. He knows you’re mortal, yes, but he just… he didn’t think it would be so soon to realize the extent. Don’t be too surprised if you see him trying to commune with the warp more than necessary to rid you of your mortal shell…

Horus Lupercal; “The Lupercal:”

This man. This man knows what to do, and do you know what he does? Pampers the shit out of you: would make you stay in bed, massage you, anything to make sure you won’t say those words again. Though, the thought haunts him, and may drive him a bit… “passionate.”

Lorgar Aurelian; “The Urizen:”

Would stare at you like you had two heads. You? Old? Nonsense! You speak of nonsense! He worships you nearly everyday: 24/7 how could you claim yourself “old?” Would he have to show you what beauty you hold? What creation and power you wield? Well… he wouldn’t mind showing you again and again until you’re the brightest, glowing star in the his galaxy.

Vulkan; “Lord of Drakes:”

Another that says “You? Old? Nonsense!” This giant of a drake stuffy will swiftly pick you up in his arms (maybe do a twirl) before giving you a gentle kiss. Letting you sit on his arms as he will carry you around within his arms the rest of the day. No, you are not leaving him, no matter how hard you whine. He doesn’t like the thought of something he cherishes very, very dearly leaving him so soon…

Corvus Corax; “The Raven Lord:”

Yet another that unfortunately stares, and is… unsure of your words. There is an ache in his chest, a certain well known pain… He isn’t oblivious of your mortality, but he’s not sure if he should acknowledge it either. You might find some of his little crows surrounding you more often, and that’s when he’ll acknowledge it, and perhaps his sons will too. Crows take care of each other after all.

Alpharius & Omegon; “The Last Primarch:”

Hits them harder than you think. They have… shared you within the legion. You cuddled them, no matter who it was. You entertained them, no matter what they did. They didn’t think too much on your mortality, but now they definitely are. Perhaps they can find something in their blackmail archives to ensure your life? They don’t like to loose many… like Omegon.