#rating primarchs

[lemon-russ]

No one asked but here's how I rank the primarchs (as in my personal love of them NOT anything serious or defendable just my favorites)

[thethronezone]

Primarchs and baby's first word

It had been an complete accident. Mortarion were overseeing some neophytes training and had been less than impressed with what he saw, growing more and more agitated by the moment. When one of the neophytes got knocked on his ass, Mortarion growled deep in his throat. "Idiot", he grumbled. "Idiot" repeated the infant in his arms that he had completely forgotten about. He looked down, expression morphing into one of mild surprise. Oh. "Was that your first-?" he started before shaking his head, trying to force down the smile that was threatening to appear. Instead, Mortarion patted his child's head softly. "Good to know you are listening."

Every time Fulgrim saw his child, he made sure to only use 'good' words and he urged his legion and the serfs to do so as well. Words that sounded good, were impressive or had value. He wanted their first words to be something special, something that would define their future. But when their first word turns out to be "purble", well, Fulgrim can't help but laugh, his head thrown backwards. It's so cute, so incredibly charming, that he can't possibly feel disappointed. Purble? Oh, how delightful! Fulgrim will never let them live this down, doesn't matter if they are 5 or 500, he will always remind them that their first word was "purble".

Since Angron worries so about accidentally hurting his child, he spends most of his time with them at a distance. They might be in the same room but he's on the opposite end. He's mostly quiet, maybe polishing his weapons or sharpening a sword, keeping silent vigilance over the child. But one day, the baby starts to fuss in their crib and while they normally quiet down on their own, this time they won't. The baby is fussing, whining pathetically and Angron stares at the crib for a few moments, body tense and fingers flexing. Then, he heaves out a heavy breath, and steps up to the cot, peering down at the child in it. "What?" he questions rather gruffly, unsure what to do, not expecting an answer. The child whines. "Up!" Angron freezes. "What?" he repeats, this time more bewildered than gruff. The child frowns, frustrated by his response. "Up!" Hesitant, he grabs them under the armpits and lifts them up, keeping them at arms length. The frown on their face melts away and turns into a smile, one that he can't help but awkwardly mirror. "Up" they say, sounding more satisfied than they have any right to be. Still, Angron can't bring himself to be too mad about it, even when the nails dig into his head, making his nerves scream with agony.

Magnus had been trying to get his child to speak for some time now. Was it still to early in their development? Yes, but they were also the child of a Primarch and that meant that they developed at a faster rate compared to baseline children. Probably. But no matter how hard he tried, his child would not say a single word, instead they just stared at him with wide eyes whenever he urged them to repeat after him. Sighing, Magnus decided to give up for the day. Standing up, he scoured the bookshelf for a good book to read to his child, when a small voice suddenly spoke up. "That." Whipping his head around, Magnus saw his child pointing at the book he had paused on. "That", they repeated. Magnus laughed and, sitting down with the book in his hands, he came to terms with the fact that his child might do things their own way.

Perturabo had developed the habit of ranting in front of his infant child. He doubted they could understand him but it somehow felt better having someone listening. He really should have been more careful. During an outing (Perturabo had wanted to show his child examples of good architecture), they had happened upon a government official, one that Perturabo had ranted at length about before. Perturabo grit his teeth and mentally prepared for some useless banter before he could excuse himself, when the child in his arms suddenly pointed and, rather loudly, exclaimed "Annoying!" The government official could only sputter in indignation and Perturabo took the chance to offer a very insincere apology before leaving. As he left, he quietly praised his child while making a mental note to maybe be more careful with what he said in front of them.

Alpharius and Omegon had wondered what their child's first word would be, small hypothesizes and guesses shared between them in private. "An object" Alpharius had guessed with fair certainly. "A person" Omegon had in turn contested. Turns out, they were both wrong, as just a couple of days later, their child spoke for the first time. They had gone to see the child that morning and when they arrived at the nursery, the child had already been up, awake and waiting. The child peeked over the edge of the crib and said "hello". Alpharius and Omegon looked at each other, amusement in their eyes. "Ah, a greeting."

Every day Lorgar wakes up and hopes that this is the day that his dear child will grace him with their first words. But when it actually happens, he's caught off guard, as he's in the middle of a sermon for his legion. He's up there, baby in his arms (because every day is take-your-kid-to-work day when you're him), talking about the divine, when suddenly the baby looks up, sees the aquila on the wall, points and says "bird". Lorgar stops mid sentence. Looks out at his legion to see if they heard what he did. The World Bearers are staring at the baby, wide eyed. Smiles widely and addresses the legion with an emotional voice. "It appears my dear child has decided to join the sermon!" The crowd cheers. Lorgar is so proud of his little one. Will probably get them a pet bird or something, seeing it as some kind of sign.

It happens when Horus is spending some time with the Mournival. The baby is in his arms, half dozing off, and he's having a nice chat with is inner circle. Eventually he decides it's time to leave, that he need to put the little one to bed. "Say bye to the captains" he says, chuckling softly, only to go completely quiet and stare like an idiot, when the baby actually says "bye". Then he starts grinning, ruffling their hair, and the Mournival are smiling too, congratulating him and praising the child for being so smart and good. Horus still ends up putting the child to bed but immediately afterwards he sends message to the Emperor and all his brothers, telling them all the story. He's so damn proud.

Konrad wasn't sure if he wanted his child to learn how to speak. It scared him, the idea that one day they might use their words to tell him that they hate him. And he's only recently gotten used to holding them (he never wants to put them down), speaking feels like such a huge leap. But, like most things, Konrad has no real control over this. So when one day, while cradling his baby in his arms, they turn in his arms, nuzzle against him and mutter a soft "dada", Konrad feels like both his hearts have stopped. But it's not dread that makes him freeze up, not fear that makes his eyes water with unshed tears. It's an overwhelming sense of love. He curls over them, his long hair tickling their face, and wishes he could make this moment last forever.

Sanguinius was delighted when his child was born and they had wings, just like him. He would have loved them all the same if they hadn't had the wings but he's always wanted to have someone to share the skies with and now he can do that with his baby. Once they've grown up of course, right now they are much too young. Until then, Sanguinius will share that joy with stories instead. That's why he shouldn't have been so surprised when, during one of these stories, his child started flapping their little wings (still covered with soft dow) and started saying "fly, fly, fly!" Oh, the way Sanguinius had embraced them then, smiling like a fool and laughing softly with tears in his eyes. "Yes, little one, one day you and I shall fly together" he murmured into the top of their head, heart soaring with happiness.

Corvus doesn't talk a lot with his baby. Not because he doesn't like them! Because he does! He just doesn't know what to say. So his kid ends up ends up really quiet. Doesn't even babble like most babies do. And at first he's calm about it, just thinks his child is like him. But then time passes and the baby still remains absolutely quiet, not a single sound and that's when he realizes that oh oh, maybe this is not such a good thing. Straight up sits down in front of the child one day, looks them in the eyes and, once he's sure they're focused on him, practically pleads with them to make some sort of noise. Baby looks at him. Baby thinks. Baby sighs. "Ok." Then goes back to quietly playing with their toys. Corvus is so relieved. Looks like he's not a total fuckup of a father after all! Then realizes that, wait, that was their first word. Silently freaking out now because since when did his kid know how to speak?

It was bound to happen sooner or later. Ferrus hadn't really put much thought into what his child's first word would be, just that it would eventually happen. Maybe that's why he's so caught off guard when, one day, he goes to pick up his child and they flinch when part of his hand accidentally graces their skin, a single "cold" escaping them. Like an idiot, Ferrus just stands there, hands hovering awkwardly, staring at them. Then at his hands that gleam in the light of the nursery. He has to bite his tongue to stop himself from cursing. Slowly, carefully, he gathers the blanket around his child so that he doesn't accidentally touch them again. He holds them close, closer than he normally would, one hand cradling the back of their cloth covered head, and stares off into the distance. This doesn't bother him. He's stronger than that. It's fine. He's fine.

Rogal speaks to his baby like they are a fully grown man. He doesn't see the point in 'baby-speak' or simpler, easier words. He will instill in his child the importance of speaking clearly and with purpose. So when his child does not start speaking around the time he expected them to, he's confused and just a bit concerned. Time passes and the concern grows as the child refuses to speak. At this point, Rogal starts worrying that there actually might be something wrong. Then, one day, when he's considering what he might be doing wrong, his child suddenly tugs on his clothes. He looks down, seeing them staring up at him expectantly. "What is it, child?" he questions, not really expecting and answer and almost falling out of his chair when they respond with "Can you tell me a story?" Rogal, bewildered but fighting to retain his cool, asks them why they only speak now. Their answer? "I didn't have anything of importance to say." Fair point, Rogal concedes, feeling like he's age a hundred years in the last minute alone.

Vulkan talks to his child every day and he talks a lot. He keeps a running monologue, talking about everything from what he's doing, what's happening around them, where they are, the weather, some fun memory, what they're going to eat. Vulkan talks in hope that soon enough, his child will respond. He's in the midst of talking about the Salamanders training in front of them when suddenly, one of the astartes brings out a heavy flamer to practice with. And suddenly his child is leaning forward, eyes wide open and waving with excitement. "FIAH!" they shout, causing every Salamander in the training yard, plus Vulkan, to pause and stare at them. The silence only lasts for a second and then Vulkan is trembling with laughter. "That's right, little one, fire!" The Salamanders abandon their training to circle around Vulkan and his child, praising the Primarch's child for speaking so loud and clear. Vulkan is beaming with pride.

Lion didn't feel ashamed or embarrassed over the fact that, most days, he held his child in one arm while seated at his desk, doing paperwork. If asked about it, he would simply explain it was for enrichment. This way, they could learn about duty, about diligence. And if it also just so happened that he could spend more time with his child this way, well, who was going to challenge his decision? It was during one of these moments, where Lion was reading some reports, that some loud aspirants passed by his office door. Even muffled, they made quite a ruckus and Lion's brow furrowed in distaste. However, before he got the chance to do anything about it, the child on his arm huffed and grumbled. "Noisy" they said and frowned. For a moment, Lion could do nothing but stare. But then the corners of his mouth started to tug. "Noisy indeed" he muttered before quietly praising his child for being so sensible.

Now, Leman hadn't been all that concerned about urging his kid to speak. He figured that they would pick up on the words used around them and, whenever they felt ready, they would speak up. That, coupled with the fact that neither him or his legion mellowed out their language when the baby was around, eventually led to the quite comical situation where, upon accidentally dropping their favorite toy, the child's first word ended up being a very loud "FRACK!" Howling with laughter, it had taken Leman minutes to calm down enough to praise his pup for saying their first word. He then picked them up, determined to show his legion the funniest thing he's ever seen.

Jaghatai wasn't surprised when his child's first word turned out to be "faster". It had, however, surprised him when it was quickly followed by "too slow!" Not one, but three words? Ha! His child really didn't to things halfway! Smiling widely, Jaghatai tossed them high in the air, his smile only growing wider when they laughed and squealed with glee. "That's my kid!" he exclaimed before placing them back on his shoulder, a hand on their back to hold them steady. "You want to go fast? Well, who am I to refuse the next great Khan!" His child continued squealing with glee as he ran though the compound, urging him to go faster and faster. The White Scars grinned at the sight and likewise, urged their Primarch to go as fast as he could.

Roboute is at his office, late in the evening, doing the last of his paperwork. He's holding his baby in one arm, preparing to finish work and getting them to bed. They are yawning, stretching, whining a little, clearly tired. Roboute bounces them a little, shushes them softly. "I know, little one, just a few more minutes, then straight to bed." His baby grumbles and turns over, covering their eyes with their hands. "Sleepy..." the mumble and Roboute almost snaps the pen in his hand. He stares, and stares and then stares some more at his child. Then he chuckles, his chest feeling all warm and fuzzy with pride. "Alright then, no more work." He stands up from his desk and, smoothing one hand over their head, takes them back to the nursery, a slight smile on his face the whole time.

[shiyorin]

Author's note: Come from my private au, has so many settings I am never said before but I think it is funny, must post.

Tumblr formatting sucks so I had to change it like this.

EXPOSED: 133 SPICY SECRETS THE IMPERIUM DOESN’T WANT YOU TO KNOW — WHAT THE PRIMARCHS REALLY DO AFTER DARK!

From kink collections to bedroom blunders — the juiciest, weirdest, and most heretical habits of the Emperor’s golden boys. You won’t believe #26… and #90? Absolutely illegal in 7 systems!

The Lion maintains absolute discipline even during climax, barely changes expression.

Has a secret passionate side that only emerges with you.

Silent hunter in the streets, vocal beast in the sheets.

Despite his serious demeanor, he makes cat noises when he comes. Not sexy growls, literal "meow" sounds.

Has never discussed his intimate life with anyone, total compartmentalization.

Possesses surprisingly detailed knowledge of ancient Terran tantric practices.

Watch you like prey before making a move, intense predatory stare.

Has a ritual of knightly "service" that leaves you breathless.

Fulgrim has tried literally every sexual practice in Imperial records.

Can delay his climax indefinitely through perfect muscular control.

His perfectionism extends to sexual performance, practices techniques alone.

Has a mirror positioned above his bed, claiming it's "for technique refinement."

Keeps a detailed journal rating every sexual encounter on multiple criteria.

Always smells like different exotic perfumes depending on his mood.

Perturabo pproaches pleasure like an engineering problem to be solved with precision.

Records biometric data during encounters to analyze optimal techniques.

His jealousy issues manifest as possessiveness in relationship.

He has body image issues despite being built like a Greek god. When you started calling his stretch marks "triumph lines" and his response was to short-circuit emotionally.

Surprisingly responsive to praise during intimate moments.

Despite his gruff exterior, he cries during his refractory period. Every time.

Has trust issues that translate to control dynamics in bed.

Jaghatai's speed isn't just for the battlefield, it can vibrate certain body parts.

Never stays in one position for long, constant motion and rhythm.

Has a thing for outdoor sex.

Braids his hair specially for intimate occasions, pulls it out after.

Makes a distinctive sound during climax that's become legendary.

Knows pleasure techniques from dozens of different cultures.

Sometimes recites war poems during particularly intense moments.

Leman's heightened sense of smell means he can detect arousal from across a room.

Growls during climax, not metaphorically, actually growls.

Has fucked in every environment imaginable, including in blizzards.

Gets rough during full moons without even realizing it.

His beard provides unexpected sensations that drive you wild.

His dirty talk is surprisingly poetic, often in ancient Fenrisian dialects.

Has a thing for biting, leaves marks that last for weeks.

Dorn approaches sex with the same directness as everything else, tells you exactly what he wants.

Has incredible endurance, can maintain the same position for hours without tiring.

He speaks exclusively in literal terms during sex. "I am now going to insert my penis into your vagina" is his idea of dirty talk. When you asked him to talk dirty, he told you about soil composition and drainage issues. Somehow, still hot.

He has never once lied, which made "how was it for you?" a terrifying question until you learned to be more specific.

Never exaggerates or falsifies his reactions, 100% authentic responses.

Has an unexpected thing for bondage, loves testing the strength of different restraints.

Always keeps his word on promised pleasures, reliability is his hallmark.

If you want to peg him, he will provide a detailed structural analysis of your technique, complete with suggestions for improved angle of entry.

Konrad can see your deepest desires through his precognitive abilities.

Only has sex in complete darkness, says the shadows "speak to him" then.

Has a thing for fear, gets aroused when you are slightly afraid.

Never makes a sound during sex, total silence except for breathing.

Sometimes whispers your future to you during climax, usually disturbing stuff.

He's a little spoon who needs to be the big spoon until he falls asleep, then immediately reverts to little.

He keeps a "justice journal" where he ranks everyone's crimes and appropriate punishments. Apparently, your crime is "excessive smugness" and your punishment is "thorough pleasure correction."

Sanguinius's wings are erogenous zones, extremely sensitive to touch.

His beauty isn't just physical, emits a pheromone that intensifies attraction.

Blood rushes to his wings during arousal, making them flush visibly.

His enhanced hearing means he can detect the slightest changes in heartbeat and breathing.

You can feel a euphoric blood rush in his presence, possibly psychic.

Has a tragic fear of hurting you, requires absolute trust.

He looks like an angel but fucks like a demon. The dichotomy is disorienting.

He apologizes after dirty talk. "You're a filthy cockslut—I'm sorry, that was disrespectful.”

Despite Ferrus's gruff exterior, whispers surprisingly tender things during intimate moments.

Temperature of his hands can be adjusted for different sensations.

Always checks in verbally throughout, consent is non-negotiable.

Can go for multiple rounds with zero recovery time.

Has a thing for hands, loves both giving and receiving hand pleasure.

Contrary to expectations, Angron is extremely controlled in bed, afraid of hurting you.

His rage translates to intense passion when properly channeled.

The Butcher's Nails make his pleasure/pain responses unpredictable.

Requires specialized reinforced beds, has broken dozens.

Gets emotional after particularly intense sessions, sometimes even cries.

Prefers if you aren’t intimidated by his size or reputation.

His heart rate during sex would kill a normal human.

Guilliman approaches sex with tactical precision, maps erogenous zones like campaign targets.

Keeps a detailed spreadsheet analyzing performance and your satisfaction.

Actually wrote a private codex on sexual techniques, 500 pages, fully illustrated.

Always showers immediately before and after.

Has a thing for authority figure, ironic given his own position.

Surprisingly imaginative once he trusts you enough to relax.

Asks for performance reviews afterward, genuinely wants to improve.

Despite his appearance, Mortarion is unexpectedly gentle and attentive.

Has a breathing kink, loves controlled breath play.

His body temperature runs cold, creating interesting sensations for you.

Surprisingly flexible.

Has never been naked in front of anyone, always keeps something on.

His scarred skin is extremely sensitive, especially along his back.

Silent during sex except for carefully controlled breathing.

Prefers total darkness, claims it "equalizes the experience."

Magnus can psychically enhance your pleasure, making you feel everything he feels.

His eye glows brighter during arousal.

Can maintain an erection for days through psychic control.

Know exactly what you want before you do, mind reading has its benefits.

Has invented several positions that would be physically impossible without telekinesis.

Sometimes accidentally projects his orgasms psychically, causing everyone nearby to feel it.

His extensive library includes the galaxy's largest collection of erotic literature.

Has had sex while simultaneously reading a book.

Horus has a thing for power dynamics, he loves when you challenge his authority before ultimately submitting to him.

His stamina is legendary, often going for hours without breaks.

Gets incredibly turned on when called "Warmaster" in bed.

Has a secret collection of handcuffs from every world he's conquered.

That scar on his body? Extremely sensitive to touch, instant arousal trigger.

Secretly recorded himself with you, keeps the videos in a hidden vault.

Has a thing for doing it in war rooms, especially on strategic tables.

Lorgar treats sex like a religious experience, complete with rituals and chanting.

Has written erotic poetry that would make experienced courtesans blush.

Takes his time, foreplay can last hours as he "worships" every inch.

His voice alone can bring you to the edge, has studied sonic stimulation.

Maintains eye contact throughout, intensely spiritual connection.

Has a thing for confession scenarios, wants to hear your darkest desires.

Always burns special incense that heightens sensitivity.

Has sacred words tattooed in places only you discover.

Vulkan's body temperature runs extremely hot, like making love to a furnace.

Gives the best post-sex cuddles in the Imperium, like being wrapped in a warm blanket.

Has a surprising affinity for sensual massage, can work out knots you didn't know you had.

Laughs during sex, finds joy in physical connection.

Always focuses on your pleasure before his own.

His heartbeat is audible and hypnotic during intimate moments.

Corax can literally turn into shadows during particularly intense moments.

Has a thing for heights, loves balconies, rooftops, and flying vehicles.

So quiet during sex you sometimes forget he's there until he touches you.

Can see perfectly in darkness, knows exactly where to touch.

Sometimes sprouts shadow-wings during climax, startling the unprepared.

His voice drops to hypnotic registers during dirty talk.

Enjoys watching from the shadows before joining in.

You're never sure which twin you're actually with, sometimes they switch mid-session.

Can perfectly mimic the sexual techniques of anyone they've observed.

Keep a network of informants reporting on the sexual preferences of your.

Have developed secret pleasure points unknown to standard anatomy.

Sometimes speak in unison during threesomes, eerily synchronized.

Have been known to disguise themselves as servants to spy on people's sexual habits.

One likes to be on top, one likes to be on bottom, but they never specify which is which.

The Emperor's psychic presence intensifies pleasure to godlike levels.

Can appear differently to different, manifests as your ideal lover.

Time seems to stretch in his presence, moments of pleasure can feel like eternities.

His golden aura becomes blinding during moments of passion.

The Primarchs' various quirks are genetic echoes of the Emperor's own preferences, each inherited different aspects.

*******

You stared at the crumpled list in your hands, blinking rapidly as you processed what you were reading. The paper had been slipped under your door sometime during the night, the handwriting alternating between several different styles as if multiple people had contributed to it.

"What the fuck," you whispered, scanning the detailed, disturbingly detailed, descriptions of the Primarchs' supposed sexual habits.

This had to be retaliation for your artwork. Ever since you'd been caught sketching that sexual piece featuring Horus and Sanguinius in a rather compromising position, things had escalated into a bizarre war of increasingly sexual content between you and the Emperor's sons.

Your data-slate pinged with an incoming message. Seventeen new commission requests from seventeen different encrypted sources, all requesting artwork based on items from the list. Each offering payment that would make an Imperial Governor blush.

"Oh, it's fucking on," You cracking your knuckles as you reached for your stylus.

********

The first anatomical "reference session" was scheduled for that afternoon. Magnus had requested a private meeting in the Librarium after hours, claiming he needed to discuss "important tactical matters" with the remembrance.

When you arrived, you found the crimson Primarch sitting rigidly at a massive wooden table, surrounded by ancient tomes and scrolls that definitely weren't tactical in nature.

"I received your list," you said without preamble, dropping the crumpled paper onto the table between them.

"What list?" Magnus asked, his single eye widening with what appeared to be genuine confusion.

"The 133 sexual facts about you and your brothers," you clarified, watching his face carefully. "Rather detailed information about your... preferences."

Magnus's crimson skin darkened further as he snatched up the paper and scanned it rapidly. "This is—I didn't—" he sputtered, then paused, his eye narrowing. "Number Eighty-eight is accurate, though."

"Which one was—" you started to ask before catching yourself. "Not the point. Did you and your brothers create this as some kind of joke? Retaliation for my artwork?"

"I assure you, I had nothing to do with this," Magnus said, still reading the list with increasing distress. "Though I suspect Fulgrim or perhaps the twins..." His voice trailed off as he reached the section about himself. "That's... uncomfortably specific."

"So these are accurate?" you couldn't help asking, professional curiosity getting the better of you.

"I neither confirm nor deny," Magnus replied automatically, though his continued deepening complexion suggested otherwise.

"Right," you nodded, retrieving the list and tucking it away. "Well, regardless of its origin, I've received seventeen commission requests based on it. Including yours about psychic pleasure enhancement."

Magnus choked on nothing. "I didn't—"

"The request came from 'definitely_not_magnus@librarium.imp,'" you interrupted dryly. "Very subtle."

"That could be anyone," Magnus protested weakly.

"It was written in Prosperine hieroglyphics," you countered. "With annotations in a language that doesn't technically exist yet."

Magnus slumped in defeat. "Fine. I may have sent a... hypothetical inquiry."

"About whether I could accurately depict psychic pleasure transference in artistic form," you completed. "For which you'd need to demonstrate the technique. For accuracy."

"Precisely," Magnus nodded, scholarly demeanor returning. "It's a complex psychic phenomenon that requires direct observation to properly capture."

"Uh-huh," you said skeptically. "And this has nothing to do with item ninety-one on the list about you accidentally broadcasting your orgasms psychically?"

Magnus's eye darted away. "A preposterous exaggeration."

"So that didn't happen during the Ullanor campaign? Because I heard an entire regiment of Imperial Army suddenly collapsed in ecstasy during your private meditation time."

"A coincidence," Magnus insisted. "Mass hysteria."

"Right," you grinned. "So about this commission..."

********

The next morning found you in the training cages, ostensibly observing combat techniques for "assassinorum purposes" but actually gathering reference material for the flood of commissions that had arrived overnight.

Jaghatai and Leman were sparring, stripped to the waist, their compression leggings leaving little to the imagination as they grappled and threw each other around the cage. A small crowd had gathered to watch the Primarchs train, but you had managed to secure a front-row position with your sketchbook.

"Enjoying the view?" Torgaddon asked, sliding up beside you.

"Research," you replied without looking up from your rapid sketching. "Anatomical references for commission work."

"Uh-huh," Torgaddon nodded skeptically. "And the fact that you're focusing on their glutes and crotches is purely professional."

"The gluteal muscles are key to understanding proper movement dynamics," you explained with mock seriousness. "Also, item twenty-three indicates Jaghatai 'never stays in one position for long, constant motion and rhythm.' I need to capture that accurately."

"You actually believe that list?" Torgaddon asked incredulously.

"I'm verifying it empirically," you corrected. "Scientific method and all that."

Just then, Jaghatai executed a particularly impressive takedown that left Leman pinned beneath him, both Primarchs breathing heavily and glistening with sweat. They held the position a beat too long, eyes darting to where you sat sketching, before Leman growled something and they separated.

"They're showing off for you," Torgaddon observed.

"Of course they are," you agreed, adding detailing to your sketch. "And I'm getting excellent reference material because of it. Win-win."

"This is going to end badly," Torgaddon predicted.

"This is going to end profitably," you corrected. "I've made more money in the past week than in my last three assassination missions combined."

"Speaking of which," Torgaddon lowered your voice, "there's a rumor that the Emperor himself has commissioned you for something."

Your stylus paused momentarily. "Where did you hear that?"

"So it's true!" Torgaddon’s eyes widened.

"Neither confirm nor deny," you muttered, returning to your sketching. "Client confidentiality."

"By the Throne," Torgaddon breathed. "What did he ask for?"

"If—and I stress if—such a commission existed," you said carefully, "it would be for a classical portrait. Nothing more."

"Classical as in...?"

"Classical as in Ancient Terran style. Renaissance era."

"Nude?" Torgaddon pressed.

"Artistically draped," you corrected primly.

"The Emperor wants you to draw him like one of your Terran girls," Torgaddon marveled. "The actual Emperor of Mankind."

"This conversation isn't happening," you insisted, focusing intently on your sketching as Ferrus Manus entered the training cage, also stripped to the waist, his metal arms gleaming under the lights.

"Your pupils just dilated," Torgaddon noted.

"Lighting change," you dismissed, though your increased sketching speed suggested otherwise.

"Right," Torgaddon drawled. "Well, while you're conducting your 'research,' you might want to know that father is looking for you. Something about providing 'detailed references' for his triple-self commission."

"Already scheduled," you replied without looking up. "After the war council. He's bringing reference materials."

"What kind of reference materials could father possibly—" Torgaddon started to ask, then shook his head. "Actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"Wise decision," you agreed, flipping to a new page as Ferrus began demonstrating a series of strikes that showcased his impressive torso musculature. "Very wise indeed."

********

The Emperor's private gallery was unlike anything you had ever seen, a vast chamber filled with artwork spanning human history, from primitive cave paintings to hololithic masterpieces that seemed to shift and move as you walked past them.

And here you were, presenting your completed commission to the Master of Mankind himself.

"The brushwork is exquisite," the Emperor commented, examining the large canvas you had delivered. "You've captured the classical style perfectly."

"Thank you," you replied, trying to maintain your professional demeanor despite standing before the most powerful being in the galaxy, discussing what was essentially an erotic portrait.

"The musculature is anatomically precise," he continued, "yet idealized in the classical tradition. Your understanding of chiaroscuro is impressive."

"I studied the ancient masters extensively," you explained, which was true, you'd spent three days in the Imperial archives researching Renaissance techniques for this commission.

"And the draped fabric creates just the right balance between revelation and mystery," the Emperor noted, his golden eyes studying the painting with the intensity of a sun. "Excellent work."

The painting depicted the Emperor in a classical pose reminiscent of ancient Terran deity portrayals, strategically draped fabric preserving modesty while suggesting the perfection beneath. It was tasteful yet undeniably sensual, exactly what he had requested.

"I'm pleased it meets your expectations," you said, feeling oddly nervous despite your training.

"More than meets them," the Emperor assured you. "I shall add it to my private collection immediately." He gestured to a section of the gallery that appeared to be accessible only through a psychically locked doorway. "Your compensation has been transferred to your accounts, with a substantial bonus."

"You're too generous," you began, but the Emperor raised a hand.

"I reward excellence appropriately," he stated simply. "And I understand you've been providing similar services to my sons."

You froze, unsure how to respond. "I—"

"No need for concern," the Emperor assured you, his perfect lips curving into a slight smile. "Creative expression takes many forms. And frankly, they've been more focused on their duties since your commissions began. Less... tension among them."

"I'm... glad to hear that," you managed, processing the fact that the Emperor of Mankind was essentially approving your pornographic side business.

"I would, however, suggest discretion regarding the list that has been circulating," the Emperor added, his golden eyes twinkling with amusement. "Some of those items hit rather close to home."

"You've seen the list?" you blurted before you could stop yourself.

"I see everything eventually," the Emperor replied enigmatically. "Though I suspect Malcador had a hand in its creation. He always did have a peculiar sense of humor."

Before you could process this revelation, the Emperor gestured toward the exit. "I look forward to seeing your future work, Remembrance. Perhaps we might discuss another commission at a later date."

Taking the dismissal for what it was, you bowed slightly and turned to leave. As you reached the doorway, the Emperor's voice stopped you.

"Oh, also? Item One-hundred-and-thirty-two is entirely accurate."

Your mind raced to recall the item in question, something about his golden aura becoming blinding during passion. By the time you turned back to respond, the Emperor had vanished, leaving you alone in the gallery with the distinct impression you'd just been teased by the Master of Mankind himself.

"What even is my life right now?" You muttered, making your way back to your quarters where seventeen more commissions awaited your attention.

[solspina]

Rating primarchs based on how good of a boyfriend they would be

full send no context

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Horus : 8/10

He’s a nice guy for the most part, very charismatic and though very goal focused he’s also kind and open to those he’s closest to. Outwardly, he’s very straightforward, stern, and absolutely ruthless to his enemies. There’s humanity within him though, and he won’t keep his friendly, loving demeanor away from those who deserve it. Find him at a celebratory event, drunk with Sanguinius, moments in which he’s full of nothing but laughter and love for his brothers and the one who stands beside him. His love language is quality time.

Leman Russ : 4/10 (negotiable)

Though he knows love, it seems to be quite strictly familial. He’s described often as ruthless and barbaric, naive and braggish. If you can put up with things like that, I’m sure he would be a fine boyfriend. Similarly enough though, he’s had many women try to court him all at once, and successfully. I can’t promise his loyalty if someone better looking comes along, as no one ever taught him the importance of that. Outside of the constant, lingering fear of replacement, he can have his caring and understanding moments, occasionally bringing you gifts from crusades and sieges on other planets. Maybe his loyalty to the emperor would apply to his lover too, if you tell him what it means to you. His love language is gift giving.

Ferrus Manus : 7/10

Rage is his fatal flaw if we’re being honest. Not towards you, but towards battle. Toward you I imagine he would be more straightforward and honest, though trustworthy and strong willed to make your relationship work. Loyalty will never ever ever be an issue with him, but it seems like he spends more time with war and battle than he does you. He spends time with you when he can, though, and he truly does care. Points off for his temper. He gave his brothers personalized gifts, and i’m sure he would go through many lengths to do the same for you. His love language is gift giving.

Fulgrim: 6/10

He’s constantly trying to be perfect, and he wants whoever he’s with to be perfect too. A lot of the time, it gets to his head. He can be incredibly ignorant quite often, and isn’t very considerate of your feelings. You’re more of an idol to him, a model. You’re human, so he sees you as perfect, something he and his people should strive to be like. Youre idealized, and under rose tinted lenses, this looks a lot like love… Lots of acts of service and gift giving.

Vulkan : 10/10

The only man you will ever need point blank period. He’s patient, he’s empathetic, he’s kind, he’s humane. He’s incredibly easy to love, and he truly is beloved. The Salamanders love you too, sometimes listening to your commands as if they were his. You’re respected as long as you’re under his arm. He wants to understand the way humans feel, especially understand the reason they wrap their arms around each other and sleep with their bodies entwined at night. His love language is physical touch.

Rogal Dorn : 6/10

He’s incredibly loyal, and also incredibly honest, but his seriousness can get in the way sometimes. You love him, very much, but there are times you get into petty arguments and he has to go consult Horus and Sanguinius for advice on what to do. He’s also very reserved at times, a lot like a single dad who’s just doing his best to keep his job and go about his day. Acts of service would be his love language.

Roboute Guilliman : 9/10

Guilliman is a great boyfriend, a great tactician, a great warrior, all of the above. The only reason i’d take a point off is because I believe he may be a little arrogant at times. He believes that his way is the right way, but he’s usually willing to listen to you and your concerns. He’s incredibly intelligent, very sympathetic and understanding of human trials and concerns, and he’s a lot like we are modern times. I think he would look for comfort in a significant other, and his love language is likely acts of service.

Magnus the Red : 3/10

Another man that I don’t recommend being with. He’s more arrogant than Fulgrim. When I said Guilliman believes his way is the right way, Magnus takes it a step up. He thinks he’s ALWAYS right. He cares, and he means well, but he’s way too much to put up with. Highly manipulative and self absorbed, don’t put yourself in that situation. He values knowledge more than he does you.

Sanguinius : 10/10

Besides the fact he’s a vampire, you’re probably the most safe with him. He genuinely cares for you and your well-being, and sleeping next to him at night with his wing draped over you is an absolute dream in a universe plagued by war. His sons may fall to their bloodthirst when they’re on the home ship, and Sanguinius is fast to wrap himself around his human partner and protect them from any and all harm. You hold him through his sorrow every time a mass of humans or his sons lose their lives, and you watch him kneel to offer you his loyalty and unconditional love rather than you offering it to him. He gives both physical touch and words of affirmation.

Lion El’Jonson : 7/10

Of course he has his moments where he can come off as aloof and paranoid, but that’s for the most part only on the battlefield. Outside, he’s incredibly charming and charismatic, but in a noble way. When his paranoia gets to him after an argument, he seeks out Sanguinius and Horus for advice, wanting nothing more to fix your relationship and solve whatever went wrong. He become more secretive as time goes on, but old habits die hard. I believe he’d offer acts of service.

Perturabo : 6/10

He’s incredibly smart, but finds relating to you and your human tendencies incredibly difficult. His moods can shift and change rapidly and violently, but I believe he means you no true harm. He would never hurt you intentionally, often opting to back away and give himself space, sometimes for days. He never returns to you without a mechanically engineered gift, though, one of his design. Alongside a very gentle hug and a conversation about how you care about him, what he loves. You love him, not for his usefulness to the emperor, but for him. His love language is definitely gift giving.

Mortarion : 8/10

He’s very confused as to why you would choose him. He’s disgusting, an abomination, he hated everything from psykers to his oppressors, what did anything matter if he would be left to the mercy of another oppressor anyways? All thoughts he had until he met you. He was cold and hateful to you at first, untrusting, and yet you showed him kindness. You showed him kindness over and over again. For once, it wasn’t just a one time thing. You’re the only thing in this universe who sees him as more than a warlord, more than the embodiment of death itself, so for you he has a soft spot. He hates the idea of having a human curl up next to him, absorbing his warmth and disease alike… and yet you do. You remind him that his touch is not deadly, and he too is capable of humanity. He will be more considerate of his decisions, because for once, something matters. His love language is physical touch, because he’s been deprived for so long, you’re the only one who allows him that piece of humanity.

Lorgar : 5/10

Does he love you? Does he not? No… He needs you… Maybe he just needs space actually.He loves you, he really does, and by god he tries his best, but when you’re as impulsive and indecisive as he is, it’s hard to know sometimes. If you’re okay with it working 50% of the time, maybe more maybe less, I’m sure you’ll be fine. His love language is… uh… well?

Jaghatai Khan : 7/10

Loyal, decently humble, and a relatively peaceful man. Outside of war, he has potential to be great to you. When war is his focus, however. Expect no attention, he’s a fierce warrior and needs to focus on his allegiance to the emperor, that’s what comes first. You follow very closely after, though! He’s quick to praise you for the things you do well and gently remind you of a better course of action when it comes to the things you don’t do too well. Acts of service enjoyer.

Konrad Curze : 2/10

DO NOT DATE THIS MAN. Konrad is a walking red flag. The self loathing, the anger, the angst, the general belief in humanity as a fallacy. He’s also incredibly violent, and may cause you serious harm if you ever managed to anger him. He’s a primarch, and you’re a human. Don’t you dare piss him off. I don’t know why anyone would realistically want that. Please continue to paint him as mean angry babygirl with a soft spot in your fics though. If you think you can fix him, you can’t. The emperor already tried.

Angron : 4/10

Before his conversion to chaos, Angron would’ve been a great boyfriend if we’re being honest. He was kind, compassionate, encouraging. He loved you when you were enslaved beside him, but once he became a primarch and lost everything, his beloved included, he became one of the most ruthless and cruel people out there until he succumbed to Khorne. He doesn’t remember you. His love language was words of affirmation.

Corvus Corax : 4/10

A very melancholic and depressed primarch. He’s very angsty and honestly a major drag to be around. He and Konrad, i feel like, would be better boyfriends to each other than either of them would be to you. Corvus isn’t as violent as Konrad, but he definitely carries on the hatred, the sorrow, and the bitterness. He’s also very sensitive, so expect to be met with either violence or a breakdown if you try to leave. 2 extra points because you may get to keep your life, his love language is words of affirmation, always followed by self deprecation.

Alpharius Omegon : 7/10

He’s they’re a great boyfriend to be honest, though very secretive, and that raises many questions. You don’t know that there are two of them. It’s a secret, not even one that you’re allowed to know the answer to. Alpharius is obviously the more dominant brother, the one who you think has a soft side. He doesn’t. That’s not him, that’s Omegon. Omegon is much more gentle, quiet, and quite honestly a little more touchy. Why? because you make him feel seen. Alpharius is used to the spotlight, so giving him every ounce of your attention feels like the usual, though he still enjoys it very much. Alpharius expresses love through acts of service and gift giving, while Omegon expresses love through words of affirmation and quality time. They make up for everything the other lacks, as long as you don’t know the massive secret they’re keeping from you…

[shadesofmauve]

Alliance Normandy SR2 redesign: Deck 3

The crew deck sits in the middle of the ship, where the hull is widest. This is where design for a larger crew really comes into play.

Sleeping and other bodily functions

The main bathrooms are roughly the same shape and location as in-game, but people walking by no longer have a great view of the showers every time the doors open.

Enlisted racks

24 enlisted racks line the corridor to the main battery, housing the bulk of the rank-and-file. Bunks are stacked two high, with uniform lockers to one side and coffin-lockers under the mattress.Footholds in between sets of bunks let you can reach the top without stepping on the one below.

Junior officers' quarters

I assume a spaceship needs more technical expertise and less grunt work, so the crew is weighted towards officers and highly-trained technical specialists. These specialists fill non-command roles and bunk with the junior officers. Joker (flight lieutenant) and Traynor (comms specialist) berth here. So does Kaidan, because at the point he came aboard the guest stateroom was occupied by Khalisah Al-Jilani, and bunking with marines would muddy command waters because he seriously outranks Vega.

Bunks are two-high with coffin lockers just like the enlisted racks, but officers rate four inches more elbow room and two inches more to stretch out their toesies. They also get a bit more privacy, a little more storage, and access to the lounge overlooking the eezo core*.

*I gave them a lounge because in ME3 you occasionally find officers chatting at a table in the middle of the bunk room, and if anyone did that while I was trying to sleep three feet away I'd commit murder.

Senior officers' country

Miranda's old quarters, which Liara claims in ME3, are large enough to house the entire senior staff in staterooms, with one extra for guests and a shared head. Each room has one permanent bunk (two inches wider and four longer than junior officers; swank) and one fold-out upper-bunk in case of extra passengers.

In Sunset and Evening Star the first thing Shepard does on the Citadel is sign on a first officer**, old navy hand Lieutenant Commander Nguyen. The first thing Nguyen does is fill the missing weapons and ops roles (she heads the navigation department herself, since it's a small ship).

With Shepard in the admiral's quarters on deck 1, First Officer Nguyen gets what would have been the captain's cabin on the crew deck (except while Primarch Victus and his aide were aboard; when she gave up her quarters to the turians). Mukerjee, the head of ops, gets the slightly-larger-than-standard cabin intended for the XO.

Garrus has the 'extra' stateroom, as their liaison with the turians. He keeps the desk folded for space and sleeps crouched in one corner; the bunk is useless to him.

**Shepard delegated something! It's a Mass Effect miracle!

Vital ship functions

Main battery

The main battery looks exactly the same, except Garrus isn't sleeping in the corner or constantly fiddling with the guns. In fact, he's never fiddling with the guns. He and Silva were spending hours re-calibrating the thanix cannon to their own preferences whenever the other person's back was turned, and Nguyen stepped in and banned Garrus from the armory before it moved from passive aggression to murderous-interspecies-diplomatic-catastrophe.

AI core

Access to the AI core is from the battery corridor, not through the medical bay.

Medical bay

The medbay is divided into a front office, the main med bay, and an area for major surgery or isolation. There's also a small private cabin for the two members of the medic corps who assist Chakwas.

Life support

The life support corridor has another four enlisted racks, bringing the total enlisted berths on the crew deck to thirty. Life support itself is basically unchanged, except for some added Important Keep People Alive machines. Like engineering, life support systems are also spread throughout the ship.

Food & leisure

Mess & galley

The mess seats 32. It's also all-watch meetings are held, and occasionally movie screenings. Crew can grab shelf-stable snacks, cereal, or recent leftovers from self-serve areas outside the galley, or collect the meal currently on offer at the counter.

The galley feeds three shifts three times a day each, and one watch's breakfast comes immediately before the previous watch's dinner. About a week out, stores of fresh produce are gone, so a lot of food is frozen, freeze dried, or reconstituted. There's always something to eat; one of the two big pots is almost always full of soup, if not both Bread is made from scratch (flour keeps indefinitely, bread doesn't), and there's a flat-top as well as a six-burner range. The food storage in the galley and nearby walk-in are only what the cooks expect to need for the next two days or so; food actually makes up most of the Normandy's cargo, stored on deck 4.

Observation lounges

The observation lounges, important for crew morale and sanity on longer missions, are differentiated by volume. Starboard is generally used for quieter conversation, reading, solo gaming, or study. The Port lounge is for parties and games. (There is no free wet bar, this is a military ship).

Normandy redesign posts

Intro

Loft

Command

Crew

Engineering

Hangar

[moodymisty]

Hi!! Big fan of your works!! I am so giddy for the requests open and it took me a while to decide who I was the most thirsty for and, with no surprise too, Sanguinius and Leman are the two I just couldn't decide for so I'll let your wisdom make the choice (I just love them all giggling kicking twirling my hair).

I just like to imagine either Primarch coming back from a long campaing and very eager to see again their wifey only to be slapped in the face by the image of them being VERY pregnant, swollen all over the right places. Suddenly something very feral tackles their brain and while a baby is an amazing surprise, they are EAGER to try and show their appreciation by eating their spouse out like some sort of marathon competition.

My guy be STARVING <333

Author's note: This just felt Russ coded to me Relationships: Leman Russ/Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW, Oral (female receiving) Pregnancy tokophobia warning, Slightly rough

Normally Russ is sometimes keen to take you along with him on his crusades; Let his lady enjoy the sights of the Hrafnkel and the planets they encounter. He knows his sons will keep you safe.

Women are like wolves; They don't enjoy being penned up their entire lives.

This time however the day of departure you suddenly feel poorly; A sudden bout of nausea and fatigue that left you struggling to keep up with him. It wasn't bad, you insisted, but the idea of boarding the ship in such a foul state wasn't entertained. Russ agreed, and left you with a myriad of gruff words and a warm embrace in the cocoon of pelts that adorned your shared bed.

The rest of that day you'd largely slept, serfs knocking every few hours to check on you- if you required anything of them.

You asked for food and a bath; The next few days proceeded relatively similarly. The Wolves didn't see much of their legion mother for a bit, and knew largely by recaps from serfs they pestered and the whining of a Fenrisian wolf whenever there was a locked door between it and you.

With Russ deep in the reaches of unknown space however, there was no way to tell him that a few weeks later, you were able to find an answer to your seemingly random state.

The older female serfs were quite eager to make you clothes as the news began to spread, and it was quite needed; Your belly grew at such a rate that new clothes were being run through at an insane rate, unless they were made with a rapidly expanding belly in mind. Within a few months it was beginning to wreck havoc on your back, and you were more so waddling than walking.

You still had three or so months left of your pregnancy roughly, but it's unsurprising that a child of Russ has turned out to be quite large. Perhaps a bit amusing that in the throws of things abit embarrassing to think about, you forgot the man was double your size, and naturally so; Unlike his sons boasting altered anatomy post birth.

You're now large enough that getting out of bed is even a struggle at times, trying to slowly scoot yourself off the primarch sized bed. The blankets tangle around you as you try to move as fast as you can; The Hrafnkel has finally moored and Russ has returned, you're eager to see him. As well as to show him his child, which he doesn't even know the existence of.

However it seems your excessive sleeping and slow maneuvering means that Russ was able to beat you to the punch, as the door to your most private bedchambers opens and you hear his booming voice as he looks around for you.

"Ah! I'm back! You're-"

You freeze in the halfway point of getting out of bed, and within moments, Russ' eyes focus on the massive swell of your overfilled belly.

"Leman! I..."

You purse your lips as he takes a step closer, eyes locked on your midsection.

"I found out a few weeks after you left."

His expression is unreadable, even as he approaches. A momentary flash of fear rushes through your blood before you're grabbed, and you're unable to hold back the instinctive yelp of prey.

Your belly makes it harder for him to push your legs back like he used to, but he manages it; You leaning on your forearms helps some.

"You taste better than you ever have,"

Your skin is probably hot and scraped by now, but the burn only feels good as his tongue laps at your core. His nose rubs against your clit, and each time your body clenches around nothing you let out the most pitiful whine.

Russ growls against you, his rough beard scratching your skin. He only bothers to cut it when it begins to get too long, keeping it at that stage of rough stubble just about to become a full beard. His braided hair brushes against your skin and almost tickles. He's a bit unkempt after his long crusade, but that's far from anything on your mind.

But even with it all you still feel so empty, and that distinct ache only intensifies as the knot in your stomach tightens to a peak. You finish not longer after, with his tongue against your clit and his nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. He continues to tease you through it, still lapping at your core even as you gasp for air and thrash. He only stops when you begin to writhe even more, and he pulls his face away enough that you can see it all.

You hadn't realized just how much you missed this; Missed him. How he was able to make you feel in comparison to yourself. He could pull any manner of whine and plea from you, with seemingly little effort. And he seemed to enjoy it all the more. The pride he gets from turning you into little more than a pile of pleas and promises is obnoxious, but his confidence and skill is concerning enthralling. Had someone explained his attitude to you, you would've ran far away, but something about him kept you hypnotized.

Your own juices mixed with his spit coat the bottom part of his face, over his lips and into his beard. It's slick across your own thighs as well, and glistens in the dim light with each loud and sloppy sound. He attacks you with the roughness and uncoordination of a ravenous beast but you couldn't care less; That was just how Russ was.

"Quite the surprise you've given me, hmm?"

He chuckles with a knowing smile that highlights his teeth. Your warm face struggles to hide any emotion. Your face and hair feel like a mess, your skin is layered in the slightest sheen of sweat. Your heart pounds against your chest and you know he can hear it, as you stare into his blown out pupils. You briefly feel like a cornered hare.

"I only found out once you were well out of the realm of any communication. If i could have I would've-"

Russ chuckles louder.

"I think I prefer coming back to the sight of you round and ready to pop, actually." His hands still maintain the grip on your thighs, and your heart is still racing.

"Maybe next time will be the same."

[mothiir]

I have a stinking cold so everyone add to this post how primarchs/other lads would act when you’re ill. I’ll start

the lion: genuine panic, thinks that you are dying. Has not been exposed to baseline humans often enough to see them get ill and recover. You wake up with a cold, all achy-jointed and snotty, and try to drag yourself out of bed to start your duties, only for the lion to grab you by the neck and pick you up for a good sniff. You smell wrong to him — all sour, and your skin is too hot, glazed with sweat. He drops you back into the bed, growls at you to stay put, then rushes off to get Luther

“My woman is dying.”

Luther rushes along with Lion, only to find you very much alive, but a little confused.

“Her heart rate is too high and she smells wrong and she — stop moving girl — she is too hot. What is wrong with her.”

Luther very gently explains what a cold is. The Lion is not happy at the idea that he was perhaps overreacting a tad, and in typical lion fashion he refuses to acknowledge any wrongdoing. Instead he listens intently to everything Luther says you need - rest, ginger tea, maybe painkillers - then shoos his brother out, procures all of this for you, and then shoves you into a nest of pillows and blankets. Clearly whatever illness you have is far worse than other serfs, since it takes a lot to lay you low - this is the closest thing he’s given to a compliment in a while - and you require expert care. Him. That’s him. He will not leave you alone. You get a very good sleep in, but you wake up to him having not moved in six hours, his golden eyes boring into you. He makes sure you eat — “this has optimal nutrition and those green things you like, you will eat it”.

the green things are vegetables. Normally he doesn’t touch them. You are very well cared for. And just a little intimidated. If you try to leave the bed before he deems you well, he will scruff you and drag you back. No. Stay. Bad serf

[hansoape]

Hand Holding headcanons Primarch Edition

hi hello personal HCs for how the primarchs hold hands lets go (can be seen as romantic or platonic)

Lion El Jonson- He doesn't hold hands. If he wants your attention he'll just grab you or gaze broodily in your direction. If he likes you enough he might awkwardly pat your hand during a moment of severe emotional intensity.

Fulgrim- holds hands like true noble. Barely touching, light. Only using the tips of his fingers. Like how how a footman might assist a princess stepping out of a carriage. All regal airs and barely contained politeness. You WILL help him down the stairs like a good manservant.

Perturabo- Crushingly strong and hot as a furnace. Holds your hand with his entirety. Hands rough and calloused, but oddly comforting. Kinda sweaty. Subconsciously squeezes harder the more wound up he gets. Hand Hold Danger Level of about 6

Jagatai Khan- Has a surprisingly gentle touch but if he grabs your hand its because yall are about to start running so you better hang on. Holding hands with him isn't a comfort its a warning of impending shenanigans.

Leman Russ- 50/50 chance of breaking your hand when he goes to hold it. Too warm and enthusiastic, like getting your hand crushed by a giant toddler. You're not getting comforted you're about to get swung around his head like a toy.

Rogal Dorn- Might not be into hand touching, but also might try. Has to do it right. Proper grip and proper amount of pressure. Perfect on a technical level but emotionally detached. He will also instruct you on your own hand placement, for optimal holding. You WILL get a survey afterwards to rate how he did.

Konrad Kurze- you're never getting that hand back.

Sanguiny- His touch is soft and warm, and he'll hold you for as long as you need him too. Whether its relaxing at home or going to the dentist he will be there, tracing comforting circles on your skin with his thumb. Hand Holding Danger Level of 0. He knows how to do it. You can also hold his hand while he's anxious and he will greatly appreciate it, fingers interlocked loosely with yours.

Ferrus Manus- See's hand holding as a competition. Refuses to control his grip strength. Always keeps his hand in an eagle-claw formation for max grip. Only the strongest, with fingies of steel, may hold his hand. WILL judge you if you complain or try to correct him. Not a fun experience unless you like hand-fighting and arguing.

Angron- Looks scary, like he will bite your fingers off, but is actually great at hand holding. Keeps your hand firmly in place and will help you with anything. Going down the stairs, if you slip, need balance. If you need assurance he'll let you squeeze his fingers as hard as you want. WILL proudly hold your hand and roar at anyone tryna mess with you.

Guilliman- holding hands with him means you're going to be there for a few hours while he explains The Imperium at you. He doesn't comfort you, you comfort him. Rub circles on HIS skin with your thumb. He misses his mom you gotta soothe him.

Mortarian- Both unbearably warm and freezing cold. Clammy, sweaty, skin an uncomfortable gummy texture. Sticks to you when you try to let go. Sometimes his fingers accidentally corpse-lock and you gotta pry them open. WILL forget he's hanging onto you and will drag you along.

Magnus- Hit or miss with him. He's either too distracted to hold hands or suddenly too bashful. The best you can get is him entwining a clawed finger with yours, most likely when you are reading together in the librarius. A reminder of his affection towards you in the quiet moments of your lives.

Horus- Doesn't matter your relationship, will hold your hand like a jealous husband, like you are perpetually at risk of being snatched away. Grip a bit too tight, almost possessive. Will need breaks to keep your circulation healthy. Likes to hold the entirety of your hand in his. Don't lock fingers with him. He's going to hold you in a vice and you're going to like it.

Vulkan- 11/10 the SUPREME hand holder. Absolute perfection. Warm, gentle, makes your hand feel like its being hugged. Strong and protective. Completely engulfs your hand with his. Will hold your hand for as long as you want, doesn't mind he's just happy to be there. Its hard to just hold hands with him as the temptation to fully cuddle is an ever present threat. He WILL hold you like the gentlest softest mattress and you WILL fall asleep in his arms.

Lorgar- Holds your hand like a preacher about to baptize you. Palm against palm, held up in reverence. Not very comfortable. Will continue to hold you there even when your arm goes numb. No moving he's still preaching. What do you mean you can't feel your fingers you better keep holding on if you are truly taking his words to heart.

Corvus Corax- Hand holding will take some coaxing. Starts limp wristed at first, like his heart isn't fully in it. Gets huffy when you don't want to hold his hand anymore because of it. Will get better over time the more you encourage him. Starts to grab your hand when he's not even thinking about it, but won't acknowledge that he's doing it. WILL hold your hand while you explore ancient grave sites.

Alpharius Omegon- Won't hold your hand, but you can watch them hold hands with each other.

[warden-of-light]

You wanna know what's cool about Corvus Corax? The way he appears before space marines and their primarch.

More beneath the cut.

Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter.

Corax appears before the Night Lords.

==================================

‘My lord…’

Curze silenced him with a gesture. His head came up, sniffing at the air like a hound. ‘We are no longer alone.’

Tovor’s auspex let out a single ping.

‘Weapons!’ commanded Sevatar. The command Claw brought up their bolters.

‘I am detecting battleplate power outputs all around us,’ said Tovor. ‘Multiple returns. Eight at least.’

‘I have clear biosign readings,’ said Manek. ‘By the walls. In the shadows.’

‘There’s nothing there!’ said Vor.

Shadows moved around the periphery of the auditorium. Uncertain target locks flickered over undulations in the dark. White outlines on red lens feeds twisted awkwardly, attempting to find something that did not wish to be seen. The sensorium did better than Sevatar’s eyes. He blinked, but his vision stubbornly refused to see what his armour told him was there.

A single Nostraman rune blinked steadily on Sevatar’s helm display. *Threat.*

‘Draw in. Protect the primarch,’ he commanded. He activated the magnetic binders on his bolter and slapped it to his thigh, and plucked his chainglaive from his back. The command Claw fell back around their lord. Curze remained motionless, disinterested. Bolts racked into chambers. The shadows ceased their movement.

‘I have steady targets,’ said Tovor. ‘Sharing.’

The white outlines flickered on Sevatar’s displays into the shapes of Space Marines in full war-plate. And yet he could not actually see them.

‘Should we open fire?’ said Vor, his voice thick with the desire to fight.

‘Hold,’ said Curze. ‘Lower your weapons.’

Reluctantly, Sevatar’s warriors obeyed.

The shadows rippled. Black armoured Space Marines detached themselves from puddles of darkness, like plastek sculptures rising from tar. Where only targeting data had been before, Sevatar now saw a full squad of XIX Legion veterans, materialising from darkness to fill the outlines painted by his cogitator. His eyes ached, begging him to tear off his winged helm and rub them.

This could not be. Nostraman born could see into any shadow. The Ravens should not have been able to hide so completely, but they had. Occupying a broad ledge that had housed statues, now broken on the ground, the Raven Guard had the higher position. Unlike the Night Lords, they had their weapons raised.

‘You have us at a tactical disadvantage,’ said Curze. ‘I trust neither you nor my sons will do anything regrettable.’ He looked at Sevatar. ‘Am I right?’

‘If they move, take them down,’ said Sevatar. He held his glaive ready, his finger hovering over the activation stud.

None of the Raven Guard spoke. They left that to their lord.

Very little shocked Sevatar. Even for a Space Marine he was solid as stone, unmoved by the remnant emotions his brothers suffered so much from. But when Corvus Corax emerged from shadow far too shallow to accommodate him, he blinked in surprise. Nothing that big should have been able to materialise that way – his battleplate alone should have revealed him; every mark of power armour growled and thumped and whined with activity. Corax’s did not. His armour ran silently, with no grinding joints, no teethitching hum. He appeared from nothing as noiselessly as oil running over water. Masters of fear and pitiless killers all, the Night Lords felt the unfamiliar pangs of disquiet.

Warsuit cogitators redrew the target outline around Corax, expanding it from the legionary it thought it had seen to the primarch he revealed himself to be. With an apologetic flourish, their sensorium aids graced the weak points of Corax’s sable armour with floating recommendations for targeting. The hum in Sevatar’s helm changed pitch as his war-plate reconsidered the primarch’s threat rating, appending a rune of high danger to Corax’s head. It flashed but did not change when Corax removed his helm. The warnings weren’t worth a damn. The primarch would be on them before their fingers could squeeze their triggers, even with the Night Haunter there.

‘Brother,’ said Corax. ‘I come to you without violent intent, but please, explain to me what is going on in this city.’ His voice was soft like the Night Haunter’s, though not as sibilant, and with a more measured tone. Sevatar refused to let it beguile him. The threat Corax made was clear enough.

==================================

Shadow of the Past.

A warp-turned Corax confronts Lorger.

[green-square-anon]

@lemon-russ @ms--lobotomy @beckyninja

Utterly heretical thought that probably (and in the latter option definetly) isn't that realistic but I love irony. Either in a show of Konrad Curzes beloved being a supremely good person or due to a Konrad Curze redemption arc, where his canonical low casualty rates allowing him to easially save more lives than he ever took, essentially becoming the only primarch with a "negative harm score" + his sense of justice making him extra pious or whatever.. Either:

a: Konrad Curze is married to a living saint

b: Konrad Curze himself becomes a living saint.

Canocially he at some point wonders if in an alternate universe could have been "like the angel" if he had been stronger. Well here's your wings buddy lmfao. Would it be some ansgty black feathered wings or do we get Curze with glowing white wings? (lol at him being bothered by the glow of his own wings).

I don't think sangy would have a villain arc. But if sangy did give into some minor flaw while seing Konrad do good, Sanguinius would worry about them switching places.

[ms--lobotomy]

You know who you are. You know what you did.

Summary: sex pollen lion and leman and you Word Count: 806 Content Warnings: SMUT, Male Reader, Public?, Sex Pollen/Aphrodisiacs, Threesome, Primarch/Reader/Primarch (no Primarch on Primarch action), Ass Play (if you read it a certain way), Praise, Oral (Primarch recieving), Spit Roasting, Double Creampie Image Credit: @squishyowl

You weren't the best with people, but the way they looked at you was not lost on you. Lion's gaze was intense; behind a wall of... well, Lion, was a man ready to eat you up and leave no crumbs left. Despite being the more rambunctious of the two, Leman's gaze was more respectful, steely blue eyes looking to lead you up the stairs or back into his bedroom.

The hunt was supposed to be a quiet ordeal on a quiet planet. The canopy was low enough that Leman and Lion's heads constantly grazed the leaves above them, but you were able to move around with ease. You gripped your weapon; the only ranged thing among the three of you. The others had elected to use sword and axe, heaven knows why.

Leman's head brushed against the top of something, Lion's following not far behind. You noticed some dirt on the top of their heads. Perhaps the dirt of this country was a little lighter, or their hair was darker than you remember. But those questions left your head when Lion stopped in his tracks.

"You," he said, his voice a gruff grunt. "dust that stuff off and come up to me."

You looked at your arms. They were covered in the same strange dirt as the others. You felt your heart rate speed up, your vision blur a little as you complied. In the corner of your eye, Leman was undoing his belt buckle. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to be a cum dump for these two transhumans.

You looked back up at Lion. He was already hard. He looked down at you, bending to grab your hand and put it onto his bulge. You felt words choke up in your throat, your hand gliding over it as you felt your mind start to go. You felt a warm presence behind you as well-- Leman smacked your ass, and put a finger up your hole. You were thankful you hadn't eaten much.

"Look at him. He's so pretty," Leman said. He idly stretched your little hole out on his finger, teasing one against your cock.

Lion grunted a small "mm" in agreement. He finally let his trousers down, his giant cock erect in your face. Not a thought passed your mind before your mouth was on it, taking in as much of it as you possibly could.

"Don't just mm me, tell me what you think of him!" Leman growled. He slipped another finger inside your waiting hole. You yelped, pressing down further on Lion.

"Fine," Lion said. "He's taking my cock really well. I..."

As Lion trailed off, you let out a little moan, and it was like a dam had broken. He fucked your mouth like his life depended on it, and he'd pressed himself in further and further every time. Somehow, you were able to breathe through your nose like you'd inhaled Primarch cock before.

"Fucker," Leman mumbled, spreading his thick, hairy fingers inside your hole. He curled them, hitting just the right spot. "Well, if he's not going to please you, I may as well." Leman lifted your rear end into the air so you were suspended between Primarchs, being spit roasted between them.

You let out a whine, as much as you could with your mouth on Lion's cock. He fucked you deep on his mouth, as deep as a man like him could. His cock was too big for you to deepthroat in the traditional sense, but it reached as far as it possibly could down your throat.

You went limp, your arms grasping Lion's pants and your legs wrapped around Leman's legs like a belt that was far too small. Leman entered you with a pop, and you squealed on Lion's cock as both of them grunted.

"He's so tight," Leman grunted while he fucked himself deeper and deeper.

"He is," Lion said, "fuck..."

As Lion uttered that last word, he spurted rope after rope of warm cum down your throat. He held you on him, cockwarming him while he throbbed inside of you. Leman laughed.

"You couldn't even last twenty minutes!" Leman exclaimed. He grabbed you off of Lion.

"He swallowed," Lion said, his face reflecting disbelief.

"Heh. You must not have much to offer," Leman replied, pushing you on and off his cock as he fucked you nice and forcefully.

Your eyes rolled back in your skull as Leman lifted you up and down with one hand, toying with your cock with the other. You weren't sure just how much you were going to get out of Leman, but you saw Lion's cock getting hard again.

"He's perfect," Lion said, that animalistic quality you knew and loved was apparent in his eyes.

"You'll have your turn when I'm done with him," Leman replied.

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[farseeryirith]

Full disclosure - english is not my first language, I have never written reader insert before, I have also never written anything for 40k before either, nor have I ever posted any of the things I've written for other fandoms... But I have spent the last 5 days reading primarch fics and I have caught that bug, so I decided what the hell, whats the worst that could happen?

Anyway, canon lore? What's that?

Sanguinius x fem!Custodes reader Warning: blood (not much, but still) Mostly fluff, I suppose. Is it bad to have a little bit of a crush on your father's freshly baked bodyguard? WHO KNOWS! Angel boy likes the tall lady with the pretty smile that smells... nice

You weren’t sure what to think of this turn of events. Of course, you could never question His decisions, and yet when The Emperor informed you that you were to accompany the Ninth legion into battle against the Orks, you couldn't help but feel some vestigial nervousness - something that would surely go away with time. You were still young, one of the newest members of the Legio Custodes, recently inducted to replace a fallen brother. You had never left the Imperial Palace before, you were yet to see battle, and He had deemed it necessary for your mettle to be tested in combat.

The Emperor had chosen to issue the task of taking you to battle to the Great Angel himself, a show of insurmountable trust - normally you were not to take orders from anyone but the Emperor Himself, follow no other commander. This went against everything you had been taught, but you would never question His judgement. The Emperor had decreed you follow his son into battle, and thus it shall be.

Lord Sanguinius had come to greet you himself at the docking bay and welcome you aboard his flagship, flanked by a cadre of his sons. You could feel your hearts' pace quicken as you talked further into the ship, your serfs following behind. Curse these lingering feelings, you could only hope the Primarch and the Astartes would not sense your anxiety. Leaving Terra for the first time felt strange. Leaving Terra alone without your brothers and sisters felt stranger. You silently thanked everything your helmet concealed your face, lest the warriors before you see you chewing your lips raw from the nerves.

Approaching closer, The Angel walked ahead of his sons and extended a hand with a warm smile towards you.

“Welcome aboard the Red Tear, Lady Custodes.” he says as you tentatively shake his hand. Were you supposed to do that? “It is an honour to host one of the Ten Thousand.”

“It is an honour to be hosted by a son of The Emperor, Lord Sanguinius.” you reply and turn to the Astartes behind him, giving a polite nod. “And to accompany your legion into battle, of course.”

“A lot of honour to be had, indeed.” one of the Astartes speaks up. A jest, perhaps? You turn your eyes back to the Primarch, to gouge a reaction. He gives a small chuckle. Yes, a lighthearted jest, you deduce, and match with your own quick subdued laugh. There was a pause, your slightly delayed reaction seemingly unnerving the Astartes, who look away. Thankfully Sanguinius breaks the tension as he speaks up again.

“Allow me to show you to the quarters we have prepared for, Lady Custodes. We shall be departing soon.”

You are led through the Red Tear to a large room where your serf begins setting up. You find yourself drawn to the window at the far end, and you walk to it mesmerized. You can see Terra growing smaller in the distance and your heart rate picks up again. You reach out to place a hand on the glass, almost as if to reach for the throne world, your home.. You hear Sanguinius clear his throat behind you, and you feel your cheeks flush. Once again you thank the throne for the helmet hiding the embarrassment on your face at being caught in such a childish act.

“I hope the room is to your satisfaction.” the Angel speaks up.

“It is, thank you.” you reply, walking away from the window, flexing your fingers, as if to shake off the nerves.

“Wonderful. I will leave you to get settled it, in that case.” he smiled and turned to walk away before stopping at the door. “It.. would be my pleasure if you were to join me for the evening meal later if you would like?”

“Of course.” you agree, and you note the smile the Angel gives you.

“Very well, I will send for you.” he says as he leaves the room. “ Lady Custodes.” he gives you a nod before turning.

“Lord Sanguinius.” you bow in return, and with that the door closes and you are alone in the room with your serfs.

You are helped out of your armour, which is carefully, ritualistically stored away. You are given your rest attire robe, and your hair is combed through again and re-braided. You notice your bleeding lower lip in your reflection in the window. Damned nerves. One of the serfs makes a remark that you should quit chewing your lips raw and let them heal, but they get silenced with a quick look. This bout of anxiety would pass, you would make it pass.

Sanguinius was not sure what he expected when he was given the task of hosting a newly inducted Adeptus Custodes. It was an honour to know his father trusted him so, yet there was an inkling of doubt in him. Was this to be a test? Were you there to assess him?

These doubts, however, dissipated when he met you. You radiated unease, anxiety even. He did not know Custodes could be nervous, though he supposed he had only met veterans before. You were young, father had told him, newly christened and untested yet, and it was on him now to see to it that you fight your first battle.

There was another thing that made him curious about you. As you walked through the halls of the Red Tear, he could smell the sweet scent of blood on you. It was slight, barely a drop, but it was almost intoxicating, alluring..

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming towards his quarters. He had sent for you to be brought to dine with him, and as the door opened for you to come in, he found himself at a loss for words.

Yet again you defied his expectations. Even outside of your armour, you were tall and of a strong build, but your face bore gentler features, bright eyes, and soft red lips. Perhaps it was foolish of him to assume all your cadre came out grizzled war-hardened veterans like the shield captains and blade champions he had met. He had never considered what a young Custodes would look like. You were beautiful..

“My lord.” you speak up and he becomes acutely aware he had been staring for just long enough to be slightly uncomfortable.

“Lady Custodes.” he shakes off his stupor and stands up to greet you, whilst his serfs hurry around, continuing their preparations of the dining table.

“Your ship is beautiful.” you mention as he comes near. Ah, he sees it now - the thin red line across your lower lip, that you keep biting and not letting heal. The source of the enticing coppery scent of blood that he could smell on you. A nervous habit, perhaps?

“Thank you.” he smiles, as his eyes lock onto your lips. He swears he has more self-restraint than this, but your blood calls to him so sweetly, and your lips look so soft. “Pales in comparison to the Imperial Palace, though, does it not?” he chuckles, trying to distract himself.

“Few things don’t,” you say. “I... I would assume,” you add. He gives you a questioning look and you look away, your cheeks flushing. “I.. this is the first time I have left the palace.”

“Oh..” Sanguinius stares for a moment. He knew you had not left the throne world before, but he did not expect you to have never even left the palace grounds. There was so much of the Imperium and you had seen none of it. Not even the rest of Terra.

“I officially became one of the Ten Thousand six Terrans months ago.” you clarify. “I thought The Emperor had informed you.”

“He did, yes. I just was not awa..” he begins, but a slightly devious thought comes to mind. “I am sure Father would not mind if we are to take a few.. detours on our way back to Terra.”

“My Lord?”

“There could be more Orks hiding anywhere.” he grins. “It would be a shame to not check for ourselves. See the sights.

You seemed to catch on then and hesitantly matched his smile. He would make sure you see at least some of the Imperium to whose ruler you have been sworn to defend. It would be worth it, he thinks, if he gets to see you smile again.

[moodymisty]

Misty I humbly request a Leman Russ fluff / lighthearted fic where every time he has to leave for war he gifts her a puppy, but now the sheer amount of dogs she has is a little ridiculous.

Is this just me wanting a massive Viking hubby and as many dogs as I could ever want? Yeah.

🍀

Author's note: Dog time! Very short but, It's cute i think.

Relationships: Leman Russ/Fem!Reader

Warnings: dogs

"Leman, You can't be serious."

The massive Fenrisian wolf pup wriggles in your arm, gumming at your arms and yipping. Russ tosses a hand outward to wave off your incredulous look, mouth agape.

"You always complain about how much you miss when Freya and are the other wolves were pups and you could take them to sleep with you, so here's another for while I'm gone."

While he mentions Freya, the first pup he ever gifted you- you named the dog after an old Fenrisian tale - he fails to mention the five other Fenrisian wolves you technically have.

While many of them are no longer your bed warmers, and now patrol the exterior of the Great Hall protecting it with sharp teeth in the never ending blizzards, they will still come to you barking and wanting affection.

"At this rate, you're going to run out of places to put them and meat to feed them with." Russ laughs, rolling his eyes. He leans forward to roughly pat the large pup on the head, it's ears twitching and he reaches out to try and playfully nip at his hand.

"Then just keep the pup while I'm gone, and then I'll give it to the whelps to train."

One of many things a Space Wolf must go through is working with the massive Fenrisian Wolves, and a lucky few can claim ones as mounts and battle companions.

After petting the pup he kisses your forehead, and leans up to his full height again.

"What. Do you want me to throw the pup back out with the others?" You instantly hold it tighter, it yipping happily in your arms.

"No! I'll do what you said; I'll keep it until you come back."

You had said that about the last one, and now your pack was six. Seven, is what it'll more than likely end up as even when Russ returns from his crusade.

The primarch laughs as your vehement refusal ever after complaining about this, as the cute pup wins out over logic. It licks your face, and you drop it onto the bed where it starts jumping around.

"Why would you just bring one of the grown ones in?" You laugh.

"Because it'll crush me in bed?" It's Russ' turn to laugh now, putting a hand to his chest.

"You have the same risk when you sleep with me, you know." Instead of fumbling over your argument like he had expected you shrug, nodding.

"True... Maybe I should just bring Freya back inside then."

Russ runs a hand through his braided hair and rolls his eyes, lamenting about something involving women, dogs, mjod and wanting to kill something, before leaving.

[megsdoodletag]

Ummmmm Morty with... a mortal that Likes Him? 👀 No preference on mortal appearance (blank gray slate works), not necessarily sexual? Totally OK if not I just don't know where your boundaries lie

thanks for asking bout boundaries! For shippy stuff I have less issues with rating and more issues with content, largely because I'm. Weirdly Particular about characterization, esp when it's my version of the character, if that makes sense. So, if I get a request and I personally think 'he would not say that' I probably wouldn't go for that one. if that makes sense. Apologies in advance.

So, speaking of character. Mortarion is not one of the uh. Easier primarchs to hang around. He's Pressed in both the Re- and De- directions and also acts like this:

This man does not say 'lets take Ibuprofen together' because he is too busy flushing his mood stabilizers down the toilet. he thinks taking them would be 'cheating.'

HOWEVER.

All is not lost, we can work with this. He doesn't really hate baselines, and despite his habit of self-isolation, given the way his early days went I'd argue he's actually quite desperate to be social. He Likes People, that's why he became the Reaper. Man specifically likes to have His People, and His People are generally the hardy, direct, loyal type. You understand the legion values, pull off some consistent competency, show you can keep up with the gang, and he's got your back.

possibly related: I think about that excerpt where he rescues a marine by literally scruffing him out of a pile and like dusting him off before setting him down again like 'there u go. continue with your destruction my child.' like. not infrequently.

All this to say, I think with a little bit of ye old human persistence hunting stamina someone could get through to him. Even convince him to use a pillow every so often.

....it still might take him a bit to get a bedframe.

[absynthe-mind]

Yandere Vulkan Snippet

TW: yandere, collaring, nsfw: dub/non-con elements, masturbation, somnophilia

Follow on from: Yandere Vulkan Headcannons

When he enters his quarters it’s already far later than he’d like, having spent long hours slogging through paperwork and Imperial administration keeping him from spending the evening with you as he’d planned.

Even so, the sight of you curled up on your side looking oh so tiny compared to his massive bed has him instantly at ease. 

Your face is smoothed out in sleep, looking utterly relaxed in a swaddle of the finest fabrics being a primarch afforded him. Lips perfectly parted as you slumber, unaware of the giant mountain of a man quietly inching his way closer to you, finally lowering himself onto the bed next to you.

The bed dips dramatically, despite being custom made for a primarch, and you slide towards him slightly, blankets shifting around you. Still, you don’t wake - too deep in sleep for the movement to bother you.

After a long moment to ensure you’re still sleeping and settled he gently cards his fingers through your hair, softly stroking your head, his fingers occasionally grazing over your face to caress your lips and cheeks. 

His reward is a soft sigh and your unconscious nuzzling towards the gentle warmth he provides, and he can feel the tension bleeding from his own body as he pets you. Your subconscious response betrays you to him - you’re never so keen while awake. 

If not for the cue expressions you make and how adorable you are while pottering about day to day he might like to keep you asleep like this forever. Soft, safe, compliant.

His fingers trail downwards, peeling the plush blanket you’d cocooned yourself in to expose your neck and shoulders. He takes a long second to drink in the sight, clavicle and soft skin exposed to him, and your neck, oh your neck.

So small, fragile, breakable - your neck scared him somewhat, but he couldn’t deny the growing warmth in his abdomen as he played with his latest gift to you, the collar.

Thick and chemically strengthened leather dyed a deep green, adorned with golden decorations and clasp, with his legion’s symbol proudly hanging as a charm at the base of your throat. 

Designed to be impossible for you to take off yourself and fitted with two trackers, a heart rate monitor and audio recording to boot - not that you knew about the extra features.

He hated how upset you’d been with it at first, your cries almost cracking his resolve, but he needed to ensure you were safe, that he could keep track of you, that he could check on you at a moment’s notice even while planetside. 

But he wasn’t heartless, of course, he compromised with you, starting off with it loosely clasped, plenty of wiggle room, and then slowly tightening it until it was skin tight. You were distraught every time it was tightened of course, but it was nothing like the hysterics you were in when he first put it on how he’d intended. 

You’d gotten used to it eventually, and it had put him at ease to be able to check on you when his possessiveness flared up.

He lets the pendant charm drop back against your throat, opting to turn his attention elsewhere, lower and lower as he slips his hand beneath the blanket rather than remove it and risk waking you.

His other hand comes to remove the armour around his groin, letting it drop against the floor with a muffled thud. How glad he was to have redone the floors with a thick carpet for you to enjoy, and to make sure it was soft if you fell of course.

His cock springs free, already at half-mast from seeing you so delicate and pliable beside him, adorned with his work and colours. 

All the while, his other hand has been working your nipples tenderly, rolling and squeezing the nubs in an attempt to elicit a sleepy moan.

Once he has you moaning softly into him, he pumps himself until he’s fully erect before taking his hand off his throbbing dick and swiping his fingers inside your mouth. Once his fingers are coated in your spit he removes them, using it as lubricant for his cock.

It doesn’t take long for him to get close to finishing, he’s been on edge all day just thinking about you, and now that he has his fingers splayed over your stomach, saliva on his cock and scent filling his nose it doesn’t take much to have him twitching and leaking, close to getting off.

He finishes into his hand, cum spilling over as he pumps out boiling hot spurts. He wipes most of it off with a bedside rag he’ll burn before you ever see, but he can’t resist using your sleeping mouth to clean off the excess left behind.

What you don’t know won’t hurt you and he deserves a treat for looking after you so well, keeping you so safe.

Subconsciously his grip has tightened around your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh. He releases his hold softly, hoping it won’t bruise and give anything away - he’d hate to have you nervous or begin to suspect about his nighttime activities.

Soon, soon. 

Soon there won’t be a need to relieve himself like this, you’re slowly getting happier, understanding more and more why he keeps you like this.

Soon you’ll let him do this while awake without flinching or crying or being generally upset with him.

For you? He can wait.

[boop-le-snoot]

Got my exotic Astartes licence recently! A local exotics charity was offering the courses at a discounted rate, so I thought, why the hell not? Turns out, we have a large stray Chaos Marine population in an abandoned industrial complex and folks are finally taking steps to remedy it. The constant fighting and yowling were nuts! I thought it was cats, or worst case scenario, some Night Lords using the place as a haunt.

With communal effort, the volunteers located and rescued 11 Death Guards, 5 World Eaters, 3 Word Bearers and 1 Emperor's Children (Noise Marine genotype) fella.

Most of the noise came from World Eaters inciting fights between everybody else! They really do not get along with anyone but their own. I cannot tell at this point when or even if they will be available for adoption because there is a strong suspicion that they have been used for some illicit activities — they exhibit a lot of trauma-related behaviours.

The Death Guards — all 11 — were dumped by the same person who bred them irresponsibly, did not screen the gene-seed for certain quirks and ended up unhappy that “they sprouted tentacles and made their house smell”. All 11 are available for adoption and are very well-behaved! Their additional limbs (a few have 10+ prehensile, agile tentacles) will be very useful in helping you do housework, and if you have a Death Guard Apothecary or know someone who does, they can give your Marine(s) injections to damper their smell to tolerable levels so you can keep them indoors.

The Word Bearers were adopted immediately by a lovely person who had a Primarch variant of their kind! I know they're kind of a rarity, but the person in question works at the public library and allows others to interact with her Marines there. They love being asked difficult questions and solving people's existential crises. As a side note, donate to your public library!

Now, I know there's a lot of prejudice concerning Emperor's Children. They are loud, noisy, disorganized and demanding of their environment. Many say that having one of them is like living with an angsty teenager during the peak age of hair metal... And I agree! A Noise Marine is an exotic breed that demands constant enrichment!

... I took him home, guys!!! :333