#rating primarchs

[2lim3rz]

Rate the Primarchs by whether or not they would wear a dress/skirt. Possible bonus points for the fabulousness of said dress or their expression while wearing it.

I mean, if you want to get technical, some of the cultures that the Primarchs are based in do have like.. masculine-esque 'dresses' sooo...

Primarchs that 100% wear a dress/skirt (and look great): Fulgrim (Designed his own), Roboute Gulliman (not too far off from togas and the like), Lorgar Aurelian (same reasoning), Perturabo (some sort of skirt/kilt sorta thing ngl), Leman Russ (look me in the eyes and tell me he WOULDN'T wear a kilt. I dare you.), Magnus the Red

Would Wear A Dress/Skirt (But wouldn't dare admit that it looks good): Ferrus Manus (convinced by fulgrim), Corvus Corax, Konrad Curze (but would shred it in seconds/not appreciate it because it's not good ), Jaghatai Khan (vibes, honestly?), Lion El'Jonson

Would Absolutely Destroy Everything Including the Dress (good luck getting it on them): Angron, Konrad Curze, Rogal Dorn (100% Refuses it), Mortarion

Way Too Go with the Flow for their own good (Will wear it, doesn't care much about it, kinda just wants their normal clothes/commits to it for the bit): Sanguinius, Horus, Alpharius/Omegon, Vulkan,

[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)

[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…

[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.

[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.

[the-raven-lady]

Okay, I saw your reply to the shibari kink rating thing and now I have to know: Which primarch would look best in shibari?

"groggy this morning, let's check Tumblr-"

oooohohoho alright, bear with me because this one has set up: Rogal Dorn.

Picture, if you will, the chill of the palace at night. Nothing compared to the harsh winds and brutal cold of Inwit, but it doesn't have to.

Smack!

He doesn't even grimace. How disciplined. You admire the handiwork of the heart you tied above his pectorals that accentuates the pillowy muscle there. It would take no effort at all on his part to snap the golden ropes holding him, binding his chest to his limbs.

But he doesn't. Such a good boy.

You drag the riding crop over the spot on his thigh you'd just impacted, tutting in disappointment as the redness has already disappeared. That just won't do.

Smack!

The crop lands higher up on his thigh, and you can see how his cock jumps from the blow. It's been an angry red since you started this hours ago, precum leaking onto the floor in a steady dribble. Dorn's breath hitches.

You worried that Dorn would grow tired of this by now and request to be unbound (or simply break out himself), but the rapt attention in his glowing brown eyes convinces you to continue for just a bit longer. You drag the crop up the underside of his twitching cock and meet his gaze. Even on the stoic Praetorian, it can only be described as reverent.

Smack!

[sleepyfan-blog]

Tiny Visions

Author's note: Part one of The Emperor of Mankind raising the baby primarchs! Next

tagged: @egrets-not-regrets

warnings: dehumanization of the primarchs, dehumanization of infants, Warp Fuckery

Summary: Several of the Very Tiny Primarchs warp powers begin to manifest themselves at the same time, while still in their gestation pods. The results of this cause the Emperor to order them to be pulled from their gestation tubes as very young infants.

The tireless and careful work of over a thousand years' worth of genetic testing, engineering and tinkering lay slumbering in twenty maturation pods. Hundreds of anxious scientists watched every readout on the monitors, every twitch that the infant super-soldier generals made as they slept and grew in their incubation chambers, worried that if they did not keep their tense vigil, something terrible would happen and one or more of the little ones would be lost, and His Excellency would be furious… Or worse, disappointed that something had happened to one of his currently tiny creations.

Each of the twenty tiny primarchs floated in their numbered pods, what they may dream of was unknown to any of the scientists who kept monitoring them constantly. This project was intensely secret - from the moment that each of them had been brought onto the project (anywhere between months to decades ago) they had never left the underground palace genetics laboratories, lest the enemies of the Emperor of Mankind find out about what was being created in the sprawling complex. The Thunder Warriors were… They had been a success, yes. But their genetic enhancements had been unstable, and they had taken very poorly to the uneasy peace that the Emperor, His Custodes and Thunder Warriors had created across Terra, ending the shattered factions that Terra had long-descended into in the endless Night that Humanity as a whole was only beginning to crawl out of, and only by the grace and aid of The Emperor and the other Perpetuals who had lent their guiding hands and keen minds to the task of Uniting Terra.. And eventually, to reach out to the scattered and lost pockets of Humanity still lost to the Long Night that had consumed the galaxy.

The Primarchs were due to be released from their gestation pods within the next several months, if the meticulously gathered and reviewed data continued to show the signs of their growth and maturation within their tubes at the rate that they were currently growing at. There was some uncertainty as to just what physical age the little soldier-generals would be once they were released from their maturation chambers, given the fact that they would stand larger than even the Legiones Astartes that they would be commanding once fully mature. Still, it was none of their places to question how long the little generals would sleep and grow within their maturation chambers, merely watch and ensure that they got the nutrient slurry infused into their -

Primarch Eight began to thrash in it's sleep, tiny fists flailing, mouth opening in closing and head thrashing back and forth in clear signs of distress, causing dozens of alarms to go off. His dedicated team of geneticists rushed over to his chamber, frantically reading the sudden change in vital signs and movement - the little ones commonly moved a little, but were primarily stationary as they grew.

Primarch Nine began to thrash and wail as well - his tiny wings flaring out and causing him to be propelled against one wall of it's maturation pod and bounce off, it's tiny fists and feet flailing. It's mouth opening and closing in silent wailing. Nine's team rushed over to try and figure out what had set the little general off, their voices low and frantic.

Primarch Fifteen, who was the most deeply connected to the warp according to The Emperor and Lady Erda, turned an even brighter red and began wailing and flailing in it's pod as well, possibly in response to two of it's siblings suddenly reacting in distress to some sort of stimuli that none of the assembled baseline human scientists could begin to fathom.

And then, to the tremendous distress of it's entire team, primarch fourteen decided to Cause Problems because it's siblings were being rambunctious by teleporting outside of it's gestation pod. Again. It teleported several inches off of the ground and would have hit the ground with a wet thud (and probably start to wail at the top of all three of it's lungs) had not a pair of large, darkly tanned hands not suddenly grabbed the tiny primarch out of the air. "Fourteen, what have I told you about teleporting outside of your pod before it's time to leave, hmm?" The Emperor of Mankind rumbled, staring down at one of his future generals.

The baby Primarch with short, ashy white hair plastered flat to his skin by the incubation fluids opened it's golden eyes and stared up at it's creator and Lord. It's gummy, toothless mouth opened and it wailed tiny hands balling into fists as it flailed at the indignity of being cold, as the thick, sticky incubation fluids quickly began to chill the tiny primarch.

"Neoth, give him here, he's cold." Lady Erda ordered, lightly swatting at the emperor, having removed her clean jacket and began to wrap it around the infant primarch, rocking him back and forth, murmuring in a low, soothing voice "Shhh, shhh ,shhh. Mama is here, little one. I know, it's bright and you are cold, and some of your brothers are very upset. That's why mama and papa are here. To see what has upset you so. Come on now, stop crying for mama, you're safe now. There's a good boy."

Fourteen stopped crying at the sound of one of it's creators' voices, golden eyes wide, as a tiny fist was shoved into it's mouth. It leaned it's damp head against her chest, it's breathing slowing down to normal, before it's eyes slid shut and it began to sleep.

The Emperor of Mankind had left Fourteen in Lady Erda's capable hands, walking over to where Eight's, Nine's and Fifteen's teams were gathered and frantically trying to figure out why the three infant primarchs had started to thrash around and wail within their incubation chambers. Apart from distress-related vitals changes, there was nothing that any of the mortals could discern was wrong with any of the tiny primarchs.

"Imperator! We-" The lead scientist started, bowing deeply as he spoke, going silent as the large perpetual raised a silencing hand.

"Eight and Nine are having visions, and Fifteen is currently psychically connected to the two of them. The visions are not happy ones, which has upset all three of them. While I had intended on letting them incubate in their pods until they were physically toddlers…" The emperor's gaze focused for a moment on Lady Erda, who was still rocking a sleeping Fourteen and humming a lullaby to it. A small frown pulled at his lips "Will they be stable, if removed from their gestation pods?"

"S-sire?" Several scientists stuttered at the same time, eyes widening in surprise.

Amar Astarte walked over, grabbing the most recent readouts collected on each of the infant primarchs. "They should be able to survive outside of the pods. I thought that the plan was to wait until they were toddlers physically, before releasing them from their gestation pods? That way they would have a degree of independence before starting to be trained, sir. As infants they will have different developmental and physical needs… Also none of them should be capable of doing much more than rolling over on their own… Warp-based power shenanigans notwithstanding, my lord."

"… Nine and Eight have visions of what will happen, if they stay in the gestation tubes for that long. It is not a future I wish to see come to pass." The Emperor responded, the frown on his face deepening. While he could dismiss Erda from the project - and Amar as well… Part of him would rather that not happen. Both of them were incredibly talented geneticists and incredibly useful to him.

"… There is also the fact that we've been getting some rather… Unusual readings from Primarch Twenty's pod. It's abilities keep us from doing a visual check of it without removing it from the gestation pod entirely, I would advise caution in twenty's case." The geneticist warned The Emperor, frowning a little as well.

"Hmm? No, their readings are fine. They're a perfectly healthy set of twins." The Emperor corrected, placing one hand on the glass of Nine's pod, the other on Eight's as he sent a psychic wave of calm and peace their way, to get the little ones to stop thrashing and crying in their pods. He wasn't expecting three new minds brush clumsily up against his own in response, filled with innocent curiosity and fear. The emperor again pulsed calm-care-safety to the three fussing infant Primarchs. Fifteen - who he had most contact with - settled down immediately. Nine fussed for a couple more seconds before settling down. Eight, from whom the most concerning visions of chaos-tainted Astartes had come from fussed until he reached out to eight's mind once again and sent more soothing thoughts and feelings to the very fussy dark-haired baby. Eight finally settled down.

"… Oh. When do you want to begin decanting, sire?" Amar asked, slightly taken aback at his answer.

"I will need to ensure that the wing of the palace for the twenty of them is fully furnished and baby-proofed… Decant them in two weeks, beginning with One. I will increase the security around these labs and the Gellar field that protect them from outside warp influence. Three full squads of Custodes will be at each location, and I will have Valdor be watching over them directly. Do not interfere with their protective details." The emperor ordered "Back to your standard duties. Eight, Nine and Fifteen are already back in their slumbering states…" He let his voice soften and warm a little as he looked upon Erda, who was still rocking a sleeping Fourteen in her arms. Something about the sight stirred something very old in his heart briefly, but there was much to do, and she was a potential future traitor to his glorious cause. "Erda, the Primarchs' rooms aren't ready yet. Fourteen will need to go back into his pod for his own safety."

Erda sighed, cuddling Fourteen a little closer (the little Primarch whining wordlessly a little in his sleep) before nodding in agreement "You're right. Alright, sweetie, time to go back into the pod. Remember, mama loves you and your brothers." She pressed a kiss to it's forehead as two members of Fourteen's team opened it's gestation pod and brought it over for Erda to lower the tiny general into, which she did without complaint.

[circeius-invidioso]

Have you ever wondered how fertile is each primarch?

No?

Well. I want to talk about it so why not? Who is going to stop me? God?

God is dead and I am eating his ashes. So without further ado.

To maximize the science of this post we will separate it into grades.

F for Fucking Hell Ahriman

Thousand Sons have the prestigious place of being dead last.

Why?

Cause a specific man I don't want to name any names decided to do something I won't mention incident and suddenly the already thin numbers of the legion decided to drop below the mariana trench.

Once the number was vibing with the deep sea fish, now its kissing goodnight the earth's core.

Magnus might be making a valiant effort but someone decided to perform-

You know what, god is dead but standards are not. I will not make that joke.

Moving on.

D for Deficient in Vitamin D

Night Lords, honestly, the only D that is plenty in the legion is dead serfs. They haven't seen a new brother in years...

Also they have the added bonus of the double d. A dead dad.

So they consistently suffer 3 type of d on the daily basis.

Raven Guard, yes? Yes. Moving on.

Salamanders, they strive for quality over quantity. Having a few sons isn't bad. Vulkan simply knows he weilds a weapon of mass destruction so he strategically deploys it.

Is that a d joke? I don't know. Do you pick up what I am putting down?

Please do otherwise it's littering.

C for Consistency

Alpha Legion, the only reason they are here is because they keep their numbers vague. But also they are like behind 90% of the conspiracies.

They might be 10 people with 1000 alter egos. I can't say.

I don't think they can either.

Iron Hands, one word that can describe Ferrus Manus is consistent. He died as he lived. Consistently average.

And I am allowed to make that joke because he is unironically my fave Primarch, and I am getting bullied for that every time I bring it up.

So in this case I am beating them to the race and bullying myself ahead of time.

Blood Angels, ever since the Angel died things had been rough.

Maybe things would have been better if they didn't yeet their brothers on those space hulks first chance they get.

I was going to make a joke but its too soon for that.

Too soon. It might have been 10k years since Sang die but the wound is still fresh.

B for Effort

Emperor's Children, why them? B for because they have so much potential. They can easily double their numbers if their Primarch put the chaos grass down.

Fulgrim is in the unique possition where he can, but sticks his seed in all the places except where it should be.

This isn't a intercourse joke people. Ok. I have some standards left.

Speaking of standards.

Iron Warriors, again. Much like his bestie. He has so much potential in increasing his numbers. But currently sits at the opposite side of the spectrum.

We are in the 41st millenia and Perty is too busy taste testing the oxygen in every room he goes in.

World Eaters, Angron coming in hot with an envious output. But sadly cannot make it in a higher tier because of his equally hot (if they died via fire) turnover rate.

You have to give it to him

cash or bank transfer I dont think he minds

he tries his best. Gold star. B for effort.

A for Astounding Output

Death Guard, Mortarian has been clocking in those extra hours. His harvest is quite plenty and boundiful every year.

Papa Nurgle puts Slaanesh to shame with this one.

Word Bearers, all I have to say is that in every book there is like a 60% chance you will come across a Word Bearer.

They are everywhere, I don't know what black magic he performs to achieve that-

It's almost like he consistently goes on pilgrimages and as a side hustle decided to spreads his seed-

...the math, starts to math up. Hold up.

Sons of Horus, Horus might be gone but Abaddon remains. And canonically (in the older editions) he was a clone of Horus.

So the Warmaster left in his stead the Warmaster travel size version. Now with more sons and more hair.

Which isn't hard because Horus was bald but anyway...

Did I add this just to share this useless factoid about Abaddon.

Yes.

Moving on.

Space Wolves, I mean... Russ. We know him. I don't think I need to explain myself further.

S for Shooting Like a Sprinkler

Imperial Fists- Black Templars is a thing. And it's a thing that abuses at least 3 loopholes at any moment to increase their numbers.

Ultramarines-

The lesson of this journey?

Yes.

[jame7h]

Hi Jame! I'm looking to get into Warhammer bc someone I care very deeply about loves it a lot and I want to connect over it. We already talk about it a lot, but I feel bad when I can't remember things or don't understand what he's talking about. Do you have any tips for understanding What The Fuck Is Going On and getting to know some of the major players in the lore? Thank you. Blessing of one thousand epic beasts (wh40k figs) for your troubles

Warhammer is very simple. The narrative is “what if Star Wars was worse in both a literal and narrative sense” and the best way to learn about it is to latch onto a faction you like (like a sucker, or eel) and figure out how they relate to all the factions you don’t know about or can’t stand. Lots of lore videos detail fascinating tales of poorly written novels!

So For example, I tricked my best friend into getting into warhammer by explaining the necrons, and slowly by telling them about the lore of the factions that fought the necrons, have tricked them into getting admech, tyranids, space marines, Rogue traders, and soon chaos at my earliest convenience

(Also once you figure out the naming conventions for characters everything becomes super clear. There’s a demon primarch who is fueled by a supernatural rage by the god of war, his name is fucking Angron)

It’s twelve deeply unserious settings wearing a trench coat to get into an R rated movie. Yay!

[sculptorofcrimson]

to kiss a Thunder Warrior

A/N: I trackdrifted from Aphrodite’s Cell into this. Please do not bang the Thunder Warriors, this is definitely heresy and I totally do not condone it! Small drabble. P.S. I know no other Thunder Warrior. I am sorry. Relations: Ushotan/gn!reader

“So if you're looking, you will find me standing next to him

Kissing underneath the palm trees, feigning for his sin

I don't care if it's not righteous, I don't give a damn”

What does it feel like to kiss a Thunder Warrior?

Rough, unrestrained, a trace of whiskey and the acrid taste of combat-stimns. The undercurrent of blood boiling just beneath it all. Bones and muscle and all rough edges, occasionally tinged with a laugh as ragged as barbarian armor as Ushotan pulls back a chuckle still trailing from his strained voice. Hands, trailing around his thick neck, fingering the scars that were inlaid there, ignoring the way he shivers and groans as fingernails tease over the rim of his neural interfaces, the tubing old and harshly integrated in a Thunder Warrior’s frame but still functional. Barely. His scars, so close, the primarch himself purring in a ragged growl, like the hiffing of the run down engine, but still snarling against its own demise, still powerful underneath all that rot. The way his storm-grey eyes briefly slip closed as he tolerates hands tugging against his cropped hair and the occasional mischievous drag on his tabard. The Thunder Warrior still surprisingly playful as he lets himself be tugged, how he follows his darling lazily, without a care in the world, his grin somehow both brash and with that cynical jesting he was know for. The clanking of his armor. The soft hiss of the servos as he helps detach the seals, unarmoring him in silence now, without even another sharp joke from him except for his ragged voice. 

He’s almost hot to the touch. Thunder Warrior metabolism. Embracing was like hugging a furnace, meant to burn bright and short and then burn itself out. Only one heart, originally meant to be claimed - literally - at the hand of the captain-general. 

You saved him from that fate.

(It’s a good distraction, at least. A good distraction to forget what Valdor did to him. The way he held him. The way his gauntlets had felt, so cold against his neck, warmed by the fresh blood. The nightmares, the snarls, the screams. The silence of the utter violation, the treachery, the bones upon the first. The death from which no soul could recover. The snow will never spare him as long as he lives.)

There is no hint of that trauma. No hint of that sorrow, that guilt, the hollowness beneath that false bravado he wears, only the liveliness as he eagerly returns. As restrained as he was, he was still a Thunder Warrior. He couldn’t help but be rough, possessive, almost too greedy as he nips and unkindly manuveers his beloved close enough to nip surprisingly sharp bites, lips curled into a grin even when he was nearly rough enough to draw blood.

(Of course, no Thunder Warrior could call themselves sane. They lost their sanity when they were strapped upon that dissection slab so long ago.)

Almost playfully, he sometimes growls during the kisses. He’s frisky, this one. You can feel his heart rate speeding up, rising from its usual lumbering pace to a pace akin to the battle frenzies his brethren had. The way he playfully traces and teases, smug and arrogant and somehow still a glorious bastard even through all he had suffered. Rough and ragged and flamboyant, without the same frost the Astartes had. He was, after all, a man. A man that was made to die a demigod, and entombed in golden armor. 

The way he laughs as his lover pushes him down, his broad frame crashing against the bed. Thunder Warriors played, they had their games, they wrestled, tackled and grappled. Ushotan was no exception. The same rough playfulness shines through as he grasps the darling that had dragged him from the snow and the frost and easily rolls over to pin them down beneath his greater bulk, smugly stretching overhead. 

(That bastard.)

(That playful bastard.)

(It’s a wonder how he never learnt the meaning of punishment for insubordination). 

The way he sounds both like the growling roll of a mountainslide, and somehow playful like the purr of an ancient cat. How large hands cup around his lover’s neck, the Thunder Warrior not resisting as they reverse his position, chuckling slightly as he was the one pinned down this time, although his storm-blue eyes still showed a hint of smug humor. 

“Hmph. Surprise me a little less next time, will you?"

[lemon-russ]

Saw an anon send an ask to @moodymisty and I was overcome with a need to make this.

(Part 1 of) Rating how good of a father each primarch would be:

Lion- 6/10

You'd think it'd be lower but like a Lion he's actually good with playing with them even though he feigns disinterest. He's the kind of dad to bring them out in the woods without saying a word, hand them a bolter and point at an animal to teach them to shoot and hunt. He acts like they are annoying him but always has reasons he wants to go teach them something. When they're babies he does the thing where he pretends they've gravely wounded him when they run at him, flopping over on the floor and going "oh ow ouch you got me."

Not emotionally available, though. And very little patience for their bullshit when they are older. But always protective from afar and always will fight anyone who disrespects them. His kids love him but are constantly like "Sorry about my Dad I don't know why he's like this" Kind of embarrassed by him, but they know he loves them in his own way.

Fulgrim- 4/10

They're never going to live up to his expectations. He tries to be supportive and encouraging, but he can't shake the want for them to be better. They are a chronic overachiever, and he tells them yes, that's wonderful, but maybe if you tried just a little harder, you'd have done even better? He isn't trying to be cruel, but he can't help himself. He loves his kid, but they live with the pressure of never being good enough. He tries to help by enrolling them in way too many extracurriculars.

His kids love him but feel like they are failing him and want to be better. They want to make him proud. He never belittles them or says anything against them, but they want him to be really actually proud of them.

Perturabo- 1/10

Have you ever seen how narcissist parents are? His kids aren't good enough. Unlike Fulgrim, he doesn't pretend they are for their sake. He compares them constantly to their cousins, Dorn's kids. Why aren't they better than their cousins? They are, of course, he will tell anyone. Of course, his kids are the best. But in private, he resents them for being another chip against his reputation. They are supposed to be like him, and he is perfect. By being imperfect, they are insulting him. Why is everything he makes imperfect? Also, bad temper, obviously.

His kids hate him or are terrified of him, and constantly under pressure to do better. Excel in everything but never think they are good at anything.

Khan- 2/10

Absentee father of hundreds. Doesn't hate his kids, just prefers his freedom. Occasionally will find one, bring them on bike ride to give them a talk about life, then they don't see him again. Not mean, just not there.

His kids opinion of him ranges from "who?" To "I met him once, he was fine I guess." Their mothers are taken care of at least.

Leman Russ- 8/10 (yes I'm biased idc)

Loves being a Dad, loves his kids, loves his wife. Loves making kids. The whole Legion takes care of the kids and helps raise them. Only things that go wrong is Leman isn't super emotionally sensitive, and can be a little harsh on his kids when they're older. But otherwise loves hanging out with them, often steals them away to bring them with him while he works. Baby strapped to his chest and toddler in his sholders while he's making war plans. Showing his older kids what he's doing while he's planning out attacks. Taking the whole kaboodle out for a day to play in the forests with his fenrisian wolves.

Genuinely believes they are the best and can do no wrong, will fight anyone who suggests they aren't great. Privately will correct them if they really mess up, but has a blind spot for them, so they can be a little spoiled. Plus there's like 12 of them if he has his way so some don't get all the attention they need.

His kids adore him and are happy as clams, if not a little spoiled and have a bit of attitude.

(Will do part 2 later)

[ms--lobotomy]

Since you tagged me in this poll I feel the need to answer with my thoughts for all of them. You know, for funsies.

40k Guilliman: pretty good option. He’s (somewhat) mentally stable and has talked it out with you beforehand. Though I am curious on where he acquired primarch-grade bondage equipment. Is that why it was planned months in advance? Was he spending all that time just trying out different kinds of ropes and chains that could hold him like some sort of kinky parody of Fenrir from norse mythology?? Also, he deserves sex that has him relax and not possibly shatter his partner’s pelvis, let that man rest. 8/10.

Corrupted Horus: We all enjoy a very evil and very charismatic man from time to time. And the chaos gods which are currently kinda wearing Horus’ body like a condom are one of the options presented in this poll. But before your mind gets carried away with the fantasy of hot mean DILF, we have to think: He’s still a DILF. And so his taste in music will be that of a Dad. So get ready for him to blast Imagine Dragons while sexily taking his shirt off. You plead for him to strip faster, not because you’re horny but because you hope that when he does so he’ll turn the rock & roll cover of Thunder off and fuck you properly. He won’t. 1/10.

Jaghatai: No words other than those of approval. No thoughts other than those of lust. 9/10.

Ferrus Manus pre-heresy: Not sure why you specified pre-heresy but maybe I don’t have enough imagination for a post-heresy lewding scenario, but I digress. So I feel that the sex wouldn’t be the main draw of the situation here, instead it’s more to do with trying to make a guy feel better about a body part that he wants to peel his metal-skin off of. Ferrus is a dude that has simultaneously given all of his children body dysmorphia (that they try to fix by replacing their body parts with tech) while also wanting to get rid of the most technological part of himself. And he won’t even tell people a direct answer about where he got the technological metal hands from anyway. This man is an enigma and the sex is just a backdrop for the true scenario; which is the Ferrus Manus character exploration that’s going on. So to judge purely by the sex itself it’s a solid 5/10.

Daemon Magnus: This dude will not only do all of what you specified. But he’ll also add Gale from bg3 astral plane type sex into the mix. The only limit is your imagination Babey!!! 11/10 (he may have used his psychic powers to mess with the rating).

Leman Russ: What’s not to love about a big scary man in a collar? What’s not to love about a living war machine getting restrained like they’re a simple animal?? Though him eventually breaking out of it would imply that my skills in Husband husbandry are poor, and that might make me kind of sad. 7/10 (would change it to 8/10 if you also put a muzzle on him)

Pre-Heresy Fulgrim: The number one rule of kink fantasy is that nothing will work out as perfectly as you want it to, something will always go differently than it did in your imagination because, fun fact, your partner is not a mind reader (and even if they were it’s not like they can control every action/reaction they do/have). If you fuck him he will be very very very disappointed in you and will act like a bitch about it. 3/10 (the sex stops midway through because you ruined his expectations too many times).

Rogal Dorn: The way im about to sexualise that middle aged man. Oh boy… well first of all I’ll- [REDACTED BY THE INQUISITION. SUMMONS A DAEMON OF SLAANESH IF THE TEXT IS READ OUT LOUD]. 9.5/10.

30k Corvus Corax: Now while he can’t be perceived, I can. In fact I am very perceivable. Unlike Corvus’ furtive emo outfits my fashion sense consists of wearing the most sparkly and shiny accessories all the time and in very large quantities. I dress as though I’m trying to sound like one of santa’s reindeer or a sentient human windchime. And my penchant to talk very loudly knows no bounds. So combining his extreme stealth with my extreme unstealth gives us the average of The Normal Amount Of Noticeability. Which would get us both arrested for indecent exposure. 0/10 because i don’t want to go to jail.

Sanguinius: also a pretty good option. Though I question how a man who had big issues with being deified by the mortal populace would feel about having his more “angelic” features worshipped. But I’m sure I can make it work. 7.5/10.

In conclusion: the vote goes to Magnus, but if he wasn’t there then Dorn would be attaining the title of “babygirl” real fucking fast.

Time to /finally/ answer some asks. This isn't a knock on you by any means, or anyone who's sent asks. I'm just not very good at it lol

Robby G: Listen. L i s t e n. This man is 1. the type to have a schedule for sex (nothing wrong with that if thats what people are into) and 2. the type to take it in the butt. He deserves it in the butt. Yes, he is a space war criminal. But wouldn't it be nice to put it in him?

Horse: I'm sorry, the image of an Imagine Dragons striptease is... enlightening as to the individual Horus is. He's the dad that hosts the barbecue parties. He's the dad that falls asleep watching TV. Hell, he probably wears Hawaiian shirts. (That last one's got me bricked up. Shit)

Jagh: This one got me. He fucking would be into leather, be it on him or his partner. May write a fic about it in the future. Dead serious

Ferrus: Ok, I'll admit it, this one was self-indulgent for me. Yes, Ferrus is an ass in canon. I also want him so bad, and that also entails helping him through some shit. (It's the "I can fix him" instinct.) Also, if his partner isn't ok with 17 inches, that's understandable. (Also also, I specified pre-Heresy because him coming back headless horseman style is kind of a pipe dream of mine)

Mags: Monsters are hot. Next guy

Russ: This one was a bit of a gift for my Russ fucker friend. You know who you are! And if you're a Russ fucker anyways, please be my friend

Fulgrim: This man has been through so many partners and he still doesn't understand kink very well, bless his heart. He's still gotta make sure everything goes the way he thought it would, otherwise what's even the point? Mm. Maybe he can be put with someone who makes him realize that it doesn't need to be that way.. ;v

Doorknob: Go ahead, sexualize the brick wall man. Put him in a maid dress. He'd like his partner to be a little rough, especially during... ahem. Encounters. Remember the Rogal Dorn position? Maybe not all the time, but fuck, this man needs to take it like his life depends on it.

Corax: Not for everyone, I get it. Especially if your clothes are like that. I applaud your fashion sense, you dress how I've always wanted to. But that fic's still rattling around in my mind. Thank you Raven Lady we all say in unison

Sang: You raise a very good point. I don't know how comfortable he'd be with focus on his more non-human qualities. But it can work. I have faith in you, battle brother.

[moodymisty]

Request: Guilliman / fem!reader and some sexy size difference 👀 trying to navigate the logistics of taking a primarch are either kinky or a nightmare 💫

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: The logistics of fucking a primarch or even just doing pretty much anything nsfw or not is a nightmare. I decided to add in a little Guilliman pampering in this one, since it kinda worked out. Enjoy.

Relationships: Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Oral(male receiving), Size difference, Porn without plot

Guilliman feels warm- almost overwhelmingly so - as you lay against his side.

He’s still asleep, the sun has just barely started to rise and as of yet he’s allowed himself some reprieve, if only for a little while. His ability to do this, just lay down even if only for a little bit, is such a rare treat.

In this warmth however it’s a bit too hot for you; Terra is beginning to heat up and the massive primarch’s body temp is a bit stifling. You don’t have any blankets on the bed, and while you lay in your thin and airy nightdress, Guilliman wears a thin pair of trousers and nothing else.

He looks so peaceful when he sleeps; the wrinkles on his face soften just a bit, now that his brow isn’t permanently hard set. It's a habit of his and sometimes you joke that his face will stick that way forever at this rate, and you'll either get told to shush, or he'll joke back that perhaps it already has.

His chest raises and lowers with his slow breaths, and for a moment you almost wish that the galaxy wasn't the way it was, so you could enjoy this more often. You’re also nearly tempted to climb onto his chest, until you look downward towards his legs that run far past your own.

With one leg out straight, Guilliman has the other one partly bent to the side, and through the thin fabric of his trousers you can clearly see that he’s half hard.

It’s something that just happens, you know, but it still makes your mouth water and piques your interest. Going back to sleep suddenly seems a bit less interesting now. No one has come to retrieve Guilliman either, be it one of his legion or one of his fellow primarchs, so you suppose there's time.

Painstakingly slow you pull away from his side, sliding downward until you make it to his hips. You consider crawling over his one leg to sit between them, but you’re too worried it would wake him up early and ruin this. Then again, it's entirely possible he's waking up or already is, and is simply letting you feel like you're being sneaky. You don't doubt the primarch is far more keen than baseline humans, even in his sleep. Then again while him being a light sleeper would make sense given his duties, he rarely allows himself sleep to begin with unless he's sure there's nothing to be done, so in these moments he takes solace in being not only safe, but uninterrupted; Knocking out like a light.

Your hands oh so gently grasp the top of his trousers and pull downward, watching his face turned to his left side as he sleeps. He doesn’t flinch surprisingly, and you’re able to gently grasp his cock with one hand and pull it over top of his waistband without waking him.

After you succeed in doing it, you swiftly realize that what you had in mind might have more logistical problems than you had thought in the height of your growing arousal.

In the moments you've managed to steal with him, those time are few and your relationship is new, it sometimes took hours before he managed to slip over half of his cock into you. With your mouth, you now have to try and fit at least some of him into your mouth without choking. A tall order, as Guilliman's tall stature has more than caused him to be proportional.

You are nothing if not persistent however, and accidentally choking yourself is more than worth the satisfaction of gifting something Guilliman rarely experiences.

leaning forward your lips softly brush over the tip of his cock, watching his face intently. He only shifts slightly, and so your lips part and you slowly try to take as much into your mouth as you can while one hand wraps around the base of his shaft, and your other hand keeps you from falling right over.

You don't get much farther than that, as once your head begins to slowly bob, he groans as he rouses from sleep; Blurry eyes blinking open.

“What…?”

His eyes focus and watches you lay at his hips, hand around his cock. He watches you struggle to take him into your mouth, spit pooling in the corner of your lips. One droplet trickles down your chin slowly.

“You never cease to surprise me,” He says tiredly, gravely voice laced with sleep and the just barely audible hint of arousal.

Any other time you might’ve attempted this Guilliman would have surely refused, not wishing to inconvenience you or waste time he needed to use elsewhere. He was a busy man, and he often time disallowed himself so many things for the sake of efficiency. As much as he might want to, he wasn't allowed to be selfish; As well as not knowing how to ask for such a thing in the first place.

But now, he’s been so worn out by the past few weeks that he finds himself victim to you curious games, and for once allows himself to be on the receiving end of your affection.

Your lips slide farther down his shaft and the tip of his cock presses against the soft palette at the back of your throat, causing it to tighten as you try to avoid gagging. Guilliman groans at the feeling but raises a hand towards you.

“Careful, I,” His voice hitches as your lips pull back slightly. “Don’t choke.”

You heed his warning but only slightly, still treading the line between taking as much of him into your mouth as you possibly can, and not choking. Occasionally your eyes flick upward to see his still sleepy expression change as your tongue and lips glide along his cock- the wrinkles on his face for once not exaggerating with anger or irritation. He's watching you so intently that it's almost embarrassing, but to see him unravel is worth the feeling of your face and neck feeling like they're on fire.

You hear Guilliman uncharacteristically swear into the quiet room, the only other noises being the sound of blankets rustling and the wet noise of slopping spit. The sun is just barely spilling into the room, you can see the beginnings of sunrays pooling on the bed and Guilliman's skin.

The primarch as far as you know has never been at the receiving end of things like this, so you seek to please him no matter the difficulty of the size difference. Your jaw hurts and your mouth waters from how full it is, but your body feels hot and stomach tight. You'd slip one of your hands downward to rub your clit if one wasn't holding you upright, and the other wrapped around the base of Guilliman's cock that you couldn't fit into your mouth. So it throbs begging, cunt clenching around nothing as you briefly imagine the cock in your mouth being stuffed inside of your cunt instead.

Later, perhaps.

With a groan Guilliman lets his head fall back, throwing his weight and making the bed shake. It accidentally bounces your head in his cock for just a moment and barely tickles the back of your throat, a feeling that makes the primarch have to prevent his hips from thrusting upward to chase the feeling even at the cost of you choking. He feels the vibration from your throat as you moan, trying to relax your jaw as your hand touches what of him you can’t fit. You swallow some spit mixed with precum that's pooled in the back of your throat, and the movement makes him noticeably jump.

You can feel he close, his cock twitches in your mouth and when you hear him mumble near incoherently in some sort of attempt to perhaps warn you, you prepare yourself as he fills your mouth only moments later.

The shaky, pleased groan is something you’d love to hear more of, and you already have a million and one ideas on how to do this again as you swallow his cum. In an embarrassing thought you realize just how much he has, it's a struggle to swallow it all at first and prevent it leaking down your throat.

He leans up on an elbow to look at you, his pupils still wide and face noticeably red. His lips are slightly parted as he pants from exertion but not the kind he's used to, brow furrowing once again.

“You will be the death of me, you know,”

He says as you pull your mouth of his cock fully and rub your sore jaw. You stretch it wide and wince at the ache, knowing it will hurt for a decent while now. You still smirk at him anyways and wipe the spit away from the corners of your lips.

“Is that better or worse than dying in battle?” Guilliman doesn’t answer, and you can see his mouth shift as he tries to hide his emotions.

“Come here.” He leans forward and grips your hip before gently tugging, emphasizing his words. When you don't move right away, he leans fully upright and grasps your waist, easily moving you with no effort on his part. Your difference in size can be quite advantageous to him, in that regard.

“Let me return the favor.”

[thevoidscreams]

Hello🌹You can write something about Sanguinius, with a reader who has the reputation and behavior of  Ciaphas Cain and that the reader is very attached to the angel and his legion. In general, if you have a better idea, then it's even better😊 just make it Sanguinius with a cool reader. Thanks in advance💚🖤❤️💙

Bet you thought i forgot about this. But I didn't....I just forgot where it was that i was writing it. It's also not exactly on character i got way more self deprecating with it.

Rating: G No warnings just the usual 30kness.

The angel didn't think his hearts could take much more of this. His hearts were racing in a panic as he flipped over the mangled haul of a rhino, anxiety rising as he prepared for the worst. 

Instead, he found you scuffed but alive in a natural groove in the earth. As if the dip had been placed there specifically for your tiny body to fall into.

"Hi honey, how's the battle going?" You joked. He didn't think it was funny at all, but it'd have to wait. The battlefield was no place for a lover's quarrel.

"We are going to discuss this later." All around the both of you, his legion was pushing back a massive invasion of Orks. And just to the side of your exploded rhino was the charred remains of their war boss, his head half gone from the explosion that'd rocked the battlefield, drawing the angel's attention in the first place. What remained was a mangled mess that snarled up hateful and defiant even in death.

Your half cooked plan had paid off. Much to your delight. "YES! It worked! Look, Sanguinius, I got him, I got the war boss." 

"Yes, I see. You did well." Sanguinius said quietly, picking you out of the dirt where you still sat celebrating your victory over the massive green skin.

Sanguinius looked down at it, and the corners of his vision tinted red as he swung his blade down in one hate filled swing, taking the rest of its head clean off in one mighty blow. It'd threatened your life, and he hated it for that. He suddenly found that he hated all of these green life forms, dead or alive. And none of them could be left standing.

Sanguinius's fist clenched around the hilt of his sword. No, he had to get you back to safety.

"I'm taking you back behind the lines." 

"Yeah, okay." Your voice came out in a squeak without much protest.

Still his irritation spiked, already heightened by the natural aggression instilled by his gene flaw. "You were supposed to stay behind the lines. I only agreed to let you come because you promised to only watch and vox me if their movements became irregular. You didn't do that. You did exactly what I asked you not to do."

“Yes I know, but I can explain ... .once you’ve won that is.” You hurriedly insured, wanting very much for him to get you back to a “Safe” distance.

Sanguinius sighed, he had to admit that you'd never gotten hurt so far. Never anything more than a scratch or bruised. It was like you'd be supernaturally blessed with the gift of luck.

No. Not luck. It was just your tactical mind thinking ten steps ahead. Luck was superstitious, and his father would scoff at the suggestion.

Sanguinius took to the air, with you wrapped up in his arms. "My dove, I understand you want to help and fight. But you are so precious to me."

Internally you scoffed, but externally you gave him a firm look, as if to convince him that you weren’t some soft little coward who secretly did want nothing more than to stay on his flag ship and sip expensive beverages and eat fine foods.

"I won't get hurt though, I'll be fine. Ask any in your legion who saw. I was holding on just fine before the war boss even showed up." Of course he didn’t need to know that the only reason you were on the field to begin with was that a bomb squig had chased you out of your relatively cushy, covered position.  

He landed, back-winging gently as he set you on your feet. "You will stay here behind the lines where you promised to stay the first time."

There wasn't much you could do to argue with a primarch. But just to make sure he called out to the closest marine who turned eagerly when his primarch addressed him.

"Watch her. This time, she is to stay here and watch." 

Some prideful part of you wanted to be mad, but his voice was all patience and gentleness. You couldn't stay angry, he’d understand later, once you’d had time to explain.

You turned away from the fighting, not wanting to think about the thousands of gnashing teeth and cruel eyes of the enemy that almost saw to your destruction that day. It might have been cowardly, well no, it was. But that’s what you were by nature, even if no one but yourself recognized that. Deep inside yourself you wished to be a hero, wished to be as valiant and stalwart as those you loved and occasionally fought alongside. You wished you could really be the person people saw you as. Some great humanitarian and a worthwhile individual who didn’t just luck your way into these victories.

You could see the retreated populace in the distance. Wounded and tired. They needed rest and shelter. Then an idea came to you. Maybe you could be a hero today. Even in some minor capacity.

When the green skins had at last been driven back into a valley and trapped, Sanguinius left them to be cleaned up by his legion. They would be easy to finish off now. Trapped as they were.

He found you working, still with his faithful Son by your side. He relieved the marine of his post and sent him to finish the battle. 

"The battle is nearly over. We'll be heading back to the Red Tear soon."

You didn't respond verbally, just nodded.

Your eyes were fixed on the tent pole in your hands as you secured it against the planet’s powerful breeze. The civilians were receiving care and being served small meals as an immediate relief effort.

"I want to continue helping set up the tents and serving the meals." 

"I know." He couldn't apologize, he hadn't done anything wrong in ensuring your safety, but he still felt as if he'd had. 

"The orcs have been driven back, can I stay to help now?" You asked.

He nodded and offered a hand to secure the tent’s pole, you let him take it. You smiled and moved on to the next pole.  'Good, at least she doesn't hate me.' Sanguinius thought.

The whole company stayed several days longer than expected. The orks were long dead, their bodies burned. You'd insisted on staying and giving aid, it was the charitable thing to do. 

The people thanked you all profusely. Some gave near religious bouts of praise to them.

Sangunius took their thanks for the extended aid as he always did. With humility, and grace. But there was a bit of selfishness to it. He wanted you to be happy with him again. It didn't take long for that to happen but he still took those extra few days to ensure it. Not that you gave him as much time anyways, not with the amount of injuries that needed attending and the amount of mouths there was to cook for. You'd been going almost non-stop, helping loved ones reunite, helping burn those that were dead by the hands of the orks and burying those that died after.

The humans began to look to you as some sort of authority or guide. Seeing you lead them and the respect the people held for you made his heart flutter and his wings ruffle. 

He'd need to get you alone sooner rather than later.

This wasn't the place for all that.

When there was enough order at last he ordered everyone to begin returning to the Red Tear.

"My love?" Sanguinius addressed you as you both arrived on the ship. You turned to look up at him. “Yes, my Angel?” He felt a thrill of excitement shoot up his spine and his wings practically hummed, he loved when you called him that, mostly cause you only called him that when you were happy. But he pushed it down and maintained his calm and casual air. “May we speak in my office?”

You nodded and followed him across the ship. A little light in his long shadow. Still despite how little you felt people still whispered your name as if you were some hero of the imperium. Passing voices recounting your "heroic" deed of killing the warboss. They didn't even know the faintest hint of the truth. You looked up to watch Sanguinius, in all his regal beauty. He was too good for a coward like you, was all you could think.

His office was as lovely as the rest of the ship and you made an effort to use admiring it to avoid the upcoming conversation. Sanguinius was generally good at reading you despite your best efforts. He stayed quiet and let you have some time, he could sense you needed it. But it couldn't last forever.

"You've been in my office many times. Surely the trimming can't be all that new or exciting to you, darling." Sanguinius urged at last.

"Speak for yourself, I just noticed a brand new spot I've never noticed before, and it is delightful."

Sanguinius smiled despite himself.

"You know why I want to talk."

It was true, you did. But you didn't want to have to explain that you were a coward to your dauntless lover. 

"I know." Was all you could get out before your throat tightened and the first few tears dropped unbidden from your eyes as you continued to avoid meeting his gaze.

The sight of your tears had an immediate effect on the man, primarch or no he was still your lover and he hated seeing you distressed. He reached for you and you let him take you into his arms. His wings followed, wrapping you up in their power and protection. 

"Darling, what's wrong? I'm not angry with you if you're worried about that." Part of you was but it was a much smaller part than the voice in your head that kept calling you a coward and a liar.

"I didn't want to disobey your orders the other day." You said, strangely flat in tone. Your eyes still leaked those darned salty tears but you'd already begun and you couldn't stop now. "I didn't want to be on the battlefield at all to be completely honest with you." You'd never told him how much you didn't actually like the field of battle.

"Then why? What could have possessed you to do what you did."

"It was an accident, I was chased onto the field… by a squig."

Sanguinius could picture this new version of events clearly. And to his own self he felt ashamed, not just for getting cross with you but for the almost sickening sense of relief that flooded every inch of him. It was a new reason to keep you here, on his flagship and away from the battlefield.

His wings closed in tightly on you and he continued to listen.

"It was one of those that was covered in bombs. And I ran, I had a lasgun, I could have shot it. But I ran, like a coward." 

Sanguinius held you tighter and shook his head. "You're not, you had to get to a safer distance before you could do anything."

It was your turn to shake your head then. "I didn't even think about that. I was just scared and I ran."

Sanguinius was quiet. "Why did you ask to come along with us to the surface?" He was changing the subject, trying to give you a break from the previous line of thought. 

"I didn't. I made a joke about wishing I could spend the day with you despite the battle and it was put in as an official request to join you."

Sanguinius's wings puffed in frustration and a measure of anger. That such a sentiment should have resulted in your endangerment.

"I'm sorry, my love. That shouldn't have happened." He kissed the top of your head but you didn't respond. A claw of worry tore at him and he gave you a gentle squeeze. All that came from you was a quiet shuddering sob.

"Why are you crying?" He asked at last, trying to keep his voice calm so as not to add to the stress of the situation. Sanguinius was loathed to admit that seeing you like this left him feeling helpless. And he despised seeing you cry.

"Because now you know." You choked out, voice heavier with grief.

“Darling, I don’t think you are a coward. I think that you were in a stressful situation and reacted. You are not used to being on the field of battle. Besides, your actions today did help us. Even if I was terrified for your safety.” “You were terrified?” You asked, astonished, eyes wide and still wet with tears. “Of course I was, I heard over the vox that a rhino had landed on you. How could I not be terrified?” He drew in a breath. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Sanguinius tilted your chin up just a bit. “I love you.” He whispered the words so softly you almost questioned whether or not you had actually heard him right. “I love you too.” His lips brushed softly against yours, the kiss was sweet and he filled it with all the concern and love he’d felt over the past several days. “I think I’d like to just stay on the ship from now on. And I’ll just have your time and affection when things are settled.”

The primarch breathed quietly in relief. “Good. Because I’m not willing to risk your safety after all of that.”You both chuckled and he lifted you up. “Now let's get cleaned up. And I’ll give you some of that much desired affection.”

[theology101]

Okay listen, I have no art skill (and far too many projects to start a new one) BUT AHHH I CANT HELP MYSELF! With DnD, I can pretend by making worlds or different character sheet and I want to do the same with Warhammer 40 while lacking the skill to do so

Also, while I normally dislike OCs as a concept, a setting like 40k is kinda built around it, my OC can be absolutely pivotal to this major battle… also completely irrelevant cause the Imperium already lost like, thirty other planets cause some bureaucrat misfiled a form 3 centuries ago

Anyways! Meet my OC!

The Noble House of Bicarmion was one of a dozen Knightly houses of located on the planet of Caliban, although the family’s Knight had a few… quirks. Despite being in perfect combat condition, the Knight had two machine spirits installed on it. Initially, this was a deteiment as not only did a pilot need to fight to maintain control, there were two possible options for causing braindeath instead of one. While the Bicarmions were infamous for their much higher rate of failure when it came to Knight mastery, this did not always stay the same. As time went on, and the Gestalt conscious of the Knights grew and expanded with each dead pilot - creating a harder and harder Machine Spirit to master - Bicarmion’s unique mutation proved its worth.

Instead of having a singular Mind that would merge with the Pilot, there were two - with the Machine Spirits allowed to communicate, they began to differentiate themselves and, as more kinsmen were added to the Gestalt mind, the Pilot found themselves not being a Component slotted into the Machine Spirit inorder to give it will, but rather a more conversational bent. It was not a new Pilot coming to master a Machine Spirit who had nothing to do but fight (even its newest pilot psychically), it would be a bickering couple being forced to cooperate by the youngblood

By the time of Lion El’Johnson’s conquest - the Bicarmion’s a proud member of the Order for centuries (actually cause none of the other guilds wanted a family with such a high washout rate, and by the time that was fixed the animosity had built) - found themselves swept up in the fervor when the planet was unified and then the Emperor arrived in person.

Unwilling to abandon their oaths to the Lion, the Bicarmion’s joined the Imperium but, like the other houses of Caliban, insisted on staying with the Lion and his Dark Angels. By then, the two Machine Spirits had been affectionately named “Grandfather” and “Grandmother.” The Machine Spirits were a combination of their ancestors, and having their deadkinsmen - thousands of years of them at this point - were practically family.

They’ve stayed loyal since the Heresy and, due to the family occupying a very priveledged, if not powerful, position in the Imperium meant that many Bicarmions would go on to be Rogue Traders and Inquisitors… but they would always seek out the Knight of the House, to seek Wisdom from the revered Machine Spirits of the Knight, who all the family view as Kin. Since the Heresy and Lion El’Johnson leaving, the House has spent much more time around said groups sparking some concern of their loyalty to the Empire as they seemed to only be honoring themselves. On top of the Dark Angels already mysterious nature, the Bicarmions became more isolationist. However, with the return of the Primarchs, the house has been revitalized

Anyways im going to try to draw this knight at some point - but with different colors and some more aestehtic variations. Like for one, probably give it an axe and a chaingun, take off the Chaos branding with the family Coat of Arms, the despoiler is just my favorite. I’m thinking the standard grey but with much more color painted on with the family coat of Arms. After all, the Bicarmions have had the same coat of arms for centuries! They respect the Lion, but they’re not going to rebrand just for him!

Current pilot is Juilette Katrin Schtark-Feld of the Knightly House Bicarmion, she had been a pilot for about a year when Guiliman came back and is currently doing everything in her power, with grandma and grandpa yelling at her to go faster, to find El’Johnson and help atone