#sergeant gadriel x reader

[vyzz-undercover]

[Squad Damocles/f!serf]

(11,000 words) (OOPSIEEEE MAXED IT AGAIN)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•intercourse [M/M/M/F]

•oral sex (m & f receiving)

•discussions on the codex

•discussions on reproduction

•essentially a bukkake

•vaginal fingering

•dubcon (via power imbalance)

•definitely size kink

•mild fear elements

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i live despite god, cato chapter 6 will be coming soonish ANYWAYS PSPSPSPSPSP heeeeere kitties kitties!!!! @moodymisty, @mothiir, @sinistermojo, @kit-williams, @primarisly-marooned, @thevoidscreams, @the-raven-lady, @lemon-russ, @blasphemme, @grimdark-raccoon, @pluvio-tea, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond, @ma1dmer, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @scriberye, @sinistermojo, @undeaddream, @historitor-bookshelf, @vivacious-hyena, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan. If you want on or off lmk!! I HAVE BAD MEMORY ILY!! ALSO SPECIAL FUCK YOU TO MY DEAR @triassicnautilus WHO IS TO BLAME FOR THIS FIC!!

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It is by no means an offhanded consideration.

Your familial line and ancestors have served the highest echelons of the great Angels for hundreds of years, and yet—of all of your far more worthy, servile kin—you're the first in generations to be sequestered to a new voidship.

It's terrifying.

You're not even sure if you're being demoted in status, because you drift between duties like they hadn't really planned to have you just yet.

When the head serf of the Barge finally has you delegated to a Primaris—it is to Lieutenant Demetrian Titus, of Second Company.

It has been less than a week, now. To say nothing of the fact he hadn't even acknowledge you in his dormitory, at first.

He has made no comment of your presence besides a huff. It's to be expected, as is his right. Your duty is to serve with or without order. But it's certainly not entirely unpleasant being freed of demands —pointedly, he appears to be largely self sufficient. Your new Lord sets his rest attire aside for you, folds sheets to be washed; and, once, brought his cot down from the wall when he saw you struggling at the task.

It takes three days of this for you to notice stern green eyes lingering.

Like most of the Adeptus Astartes who are more often called to active service, there's scant bric-a-brac to be organised in his lodgings.

Perhaps due to the fact that none of the souvenirs of his long service are small in any way.

Much rather, everything your Lord owns is each a hulking testament to his might in war. Like the intricate pauldron hung on the side wall that is the size of your ribcage, and the length of fine red fabric fitted within that which is almost the height of you.

Nonetheless, your Lord begins to try snag your gaze; despite the fact you most often keep your head bowed.

It begins first as you rise to your tippy-toes to dust off the chainsword upon a small outcrop.

It's a tap on his chest armour, that you turn to catch the sound of. Then, when you return with a small crate to stand upon to better reach the shelf, it's a rapt of gauntlet'd fingers on his hip-plating; and a curious focus in his eyes as you spin around to heed the noise.

Lots of little things to coax you to glance at him.

His strange plans pay off, more often than not. It's very difficult to ignore the out of place song of ceramite and steel being drummed against.

This all entertains your Lord, apparently. He doesn't go so far as to laugh or anything, Throne forbid; but he does huff a little from his nose while keeping a neutral, unchanged face. And to that ends, it's difficult to believe a great being as he would stoop to such.

But the Astartes aren't as stalwart every waking hour as the average individual would believe.

Your Lord included, it seems.

On the fourth day, he starts speaking to you.

Nothing more than, 'Good, serf.' when you neatly fold his sheets under the thin mattress and press the wrinkles flat. His voice is a steady lilt, stoic and rugged, and all you can do is nod doltishly.

Then it worsens. It worsens into fully fledged questions, that you shudder and hesitate to answer. At first, it's a stray comment of asking why you have hair still, and that too is a surprise—the serf's on this Battle Barge appear to be clean-shaven on their heads, and yet nothing has been asked of you to undertake such yet.

Then the situation nosedives.

"Where were you stationed, prior to this?" He asks as he's unclad, seated on his cot in a loincloth as you mop.

You haven't dared look at anything more than the skin below his knees as you labour. Even his calves dwarf you, they may as well be one of your thighs.

"I–" you begin, stammering. "I was previously assigned upon the Primarch's Flagship, my Lord."

"Truly? To whom?"

"My mother is indentured to the Chapter Master, as were her parents," you say softly, and clutch the handle tightly.

His brows furrow before asking, "And you were bade sent here? By Lord Calgar, of all people?"

You cock your head, and you aren't sure why his tone is accusative; nor can you parse out the confusion in it. The fact remains your family served on the flagship, the point of who matters not more than simple competence pedigree.

"Nevermind," he sighs, and tips his head down.

You realise you're actively looking at him a bit too late.

He is very handsome, ruggedly so. It is a fact you've viciously tried to repress acknowledging since your assignment to his service—he is as all of his kind is—tall, mighty statue given flesh, built for warring on a million worlds and excelling at such a leviathan task; yet there's a softness to your Lord in the warm, yellow-red candlelight not afforded to him under the harsh hallways lumens.

His chin is darkened with light stubble, and his usually sternly knitted brows are steadily becoming calm and flat. The harsh lines on his face aren't at all as unnerving when they're countered by the thoughtful expression he now wears.

"I believe you may be a sort of gift from him," he supplies dryly.

"A gift, m-my Lord?" You stutter, unseated by the hulking, unclad form of the Primaris Lieutenant so close.

"Titus," he corrects softly, leaning in; and the room is a little less frigid with him practically breathing on you.

"My Lord T-Titus," you adjust, and he snorts good-humouredly.

"Close, but not quite," he tuts, "You may call me Titus."

You lower your head nervously, keeping your gaze down; ultimately receiving an eyeful of his large chest and navel. The scars littering his flesh are a hodgepodge of livid cicatrix, old tissue, and the healed over pitted marks of bullet holes. He has a light dusting of hair across the span of his pectorals, patchy with the aforementioned damage.

Then it deepens to a darker, coarser shade down his dense abdomen, arrowing lower, and lower and—

"Calgar's privy to much," he chuffs, then reaches a large hand up and you're greeted to the sound of a palm scrubbing against stubble. "My predilections, too... worryingly."

You hesitate, completely bemused by the admission—you have no clue what your Lord is talking about. Point of fact, there's a need to reply hanging in your heart; but you stifle it down.

He seems to recognise this, and sighs.

There's a fey, strangled sort of anchor in his voice as he says, "Is it a stretch to say you've been with an Astartes before?"

You cock your head again, "I have served my whole life, my Lord Titus, I assure you that I am—"

He snorts, "Not that kind of service."

"I–I don't understand," you stutter.

"Have you bedded another?"

You hesitate, and feel very real fear seize your mind as you speak, "I-I—If you mean intercourse, such has not been sanctioned for me, m-my Lord."

He stares at you with a deep contemplation, and you can feel your heart thundering in your chest at the lie of omission.

"You can answer truthfully," he says.

Swallowing around the dryness in your throat once more you mumble, "Once, m-my Lord."

"We are evenly matched in that contest, then."

Eyeing the Lieutenant in place of further responding offers you little respite from the heat and panic boiling in your veins.

"If it's to your liking," he starts, "I could indulge you?"

You blink, "My Lord?"

"I'm not going to see you punished should you decline me," he says with that same terribly earnest tone, "I'd only ask you not to speak of this proposition occurring with any others."

There is something in the way the he speaks, the way his voice slips lower, into rougher and barer territories that vaguely resemble what you imagine your Lord might've-been propositioning you as a mortal man that is utterly staggering. It isn't even about what he is saying—it's more about how he is saying it.

The naked urgency is strange, and you're terrified and entranced all in one.

He pats what little space on the side of the cot his bulk doesn't consume and you take a half step before freezing on instinct.

He repeats the gesture and you drag your feet, cautiously approaching before perching yourself beside him and being swallowed by his seated form in the candle-light's shade.

His hand raises, and you shrink slightly.

Your Lord seems to recognise the worry and lowers it a little, only to leave it hovering over your tunic'd leg.

You imagine the great Angel sees you as some shivering wet animal at his mercy, somewhat. You eye his huge hand nervously but ultimately sigh out your nerves and relax a little.

If this was a test of some sort, surely the guillotine would have fallen by now—not that the thought eases you in any way.

His hand tentatively settles on your thigh, and you're shocked at the sheer heaviness of the thing. It's a pressure all it's own, and so heated that you're hyperaware of the warmth suffusing through your garb onto your skin.

It drags up, ever so slowly, and you inhale shakily—stunned by the strength in just one hand most definitely being more than you have in your entire body.

You feel like you should be squirming with the thrill of the gesture, moving against that huge limb; but are too frozen by the gravity of the situation to act.

"I will need an actual answer, however," he remarks belatedly, smoothing his calloused palm back down your thigh.

A cold, wild animal horror sinks in beside something wretchedly simmering as you dither, finally replying with, "I-I would, should you wish it, my Lord."

"Titus," He raises a dark, scarred eyebrow lazily, correcting you once again with a light sigh, "Calgar has schooled you on your manners a bit too well, it seems."

You frown, at shameful odds with maintaining discipline despite your Lord's repeated protest, and avert your eyes again. Trying to play off the shiver his voice so close inspires in your spine.

A choked grunt escapes him not long after and you meet his gaze haphazardly.

Only to be met by an uncanny sight, and heavy, clogged-engine laughter.

Your Lord's lips have skinned back over his teeth at you in a large grin. Charming as the gesture should be, it is certainly not something a fellow baseline would call a particularly friendly expression—maybe due to the fact it felt strange seeing so much emotion at once from him. It looks more akin to a beast in human skin baring it's fangs, and just as animalistic. The back of your brain screams there's a threat of being mauled.

It is a somewhat fey thing to witness, despite the fact it appears to be a genuine display of mirth. And when it falls away to a closed smile, it's much better to behold—the age lines on his face crinkle just right to make him just that little bit more attractive.

"We'll get there," he chuckles. "But first, you will need to be stretched."

That sounds painfully ominous.

You scowl a little in confusion and parrot the word, "...stretched?" back at him in an almost unconsciously quiet voice.

He hears it, and his brow raises a tad.

"You can't fit me ordinarily."

The breath you take in is almost choked with hind-brain panic, mind crafting a series of impossible sizes—crushing and rending, turning your insides to paste. Worse than the time you'd seen a servitor veer into the pulleys of the lift platforms.

"Move further up on the cot," he huffs,

You oblige, and slide back a little; ruining your earlier efforts of fussing with his sheets.

He lifts himself off the cot, kneeling, and breathes in solemnly; his face pinched a tad.

"Settle," comes the Lieutenant's affirmation, "I'll make sure you're unharmed... now, if you allow me see what I'm to be working with?"

You nod shakily, and the massive hand previously upon your thigh splays you out. His other joins it on the converse and mimics the gesture, spreading you.

He shuffles closer to the cot's edge on his knees and chuffs, "Lean back, and put your legs up on me."

Stuffily, you obey, resting your calves on his broad back as you sidle astride his head.

"Very good," your Lord hums; and Holy Terra, you can hardly believe that you're feeling his warm breath dance across your skin. You have a feeling of what he's planning to do, it's unfathomable—nor can you bear to watch one of the great Angels do this.

One of his huge hands cups your hip as he hikes up your tunic's hem to keep you still, nudging it up, and up, until you realise he's trying to coax you into disrobing—to which you oblige with a flustered timidity.

Emperor have mercy, you can't fathom the looming act, and it's consequence—so with scant preamble, you quickly cover your face with both palms.

What a wretched day to've forsaken briefs in favour of a longer garb. Now, you're stuck stark naked on the Angel's bed, and you can feel he's—he's kneading your waist, then squeezing your hip—you're so beyond forsaken it's laughable. You're doomed. But your insides are twitching at the contact, and the feeling of his worn palm taking a moment to grope your thigh has your nerves aflame with anticipation. What a great shame to have brought an Astartes so low, to have him disgrace himself in—oh, no.

A wide band of slick muscle drags upward, and the sensation is nigh ecstasy. The heat of his mouth is divine, and—and rolling against your clit.

Your Lord rumbles contentedly when your legs jump and you almost choke trying to hold back a ragged, stunned moan.

His huge tongue worms into you, big nose jammed against your clit; his mouth several times larger than your own forced to practically eat at your cunt—going at you with an almost desperate eagerness before raking up again and humming against your tender little nub.

"Are you aware you're in season?" He says, still smothering himself to your sex, and it is so offhanded it's jarring; like a finger stuck in a door hinge.

A flabbergasted whine is all you can offer in answer.

He steals another greedy lick of your entrance, "I already knew by how you smelt—but I can taste it too," he notes smoothly, and laps at you again.

Your Lord pulls away and you grow enough backbone to glance between your fingers. He has a blank look on his stern face, pupils blown out, rolling his tongue around his mouth before he apparently frees himself from whatever haze overtook him.

His chin and chops are wetted with clear, slimy lubricant—your slick—and he takes a deep breath.

It's a little mind boggling seeing his other hand rise up from beyond your view. Why is it already glistening slightly? Had he been...? Surely not, surely...

"Your turn with this, I suppose," comes the straightforward, depraved confirmation of your suspicions.

The hold already on your side turns into a vice; and then there's massive digits tracing your entrance.

"It's alright," he rasps, "It's only two."

—then you're crammed full of a Primaris' ring and middle finger.

The sheer size of just that alone is insane, but most of all, it's brilliant. And yet, somehow everything gets even better.

Your Lord's mouth claims its' place back on your clit and sucks.

A garbled whine, and the bliss has you shaking like a leaf.

His fingers stretch your walls as he scissors them out, only to curl in sharp, precise motions; as if your cunt is some weapon he's searching for the trigger mechanism inside of.

Wound too tight, it all comes to an embarrassingly quick end with you letting out a ragged sob, bucking sharply in surprise. Absolutely stunned into orgasm as your core muscles cinch up, keening.

Unfortunately, set on his goal, your Lord does not let up immediately—holding fast and unmoving—and is only disengaged when, cotton-mouthed to words by overstimulation, you blindly flail, stamping your heels into the massive span of his upper back.

He looks a little confused as he releases you, as if he'd been in some sort of trance again.

Blinking a few times and righting himself, he clears his throat, "We should... learn to coordinate that better," he admits, his voice a little rougher, "Tap three times to stop. Two to slow. Once to continue."

There's a short lapse of speaking after that as you ogle his face lingering between your thighs; until you abruptly realise he's waiting for your answer.

"Y-Yes, my Lord."

A big, dark brow raises, "I believe you're simply misbehaving, now."

Your stomach leadens as panic sinks its' claws into you and with a blubbering whine you stammer, "N-No, no... please, my Lord—I mean, my Lord Titus, I-I am not, I swear—"

"It's only a joke," he huffs, and his dark brows arch down a hint in a somewhat sympathetic manner. "Do... do I really frighten you that much?"

You swallow harshly and stutter, "I-I-I—I am a serf, my duty is humility."

It's not the right answer, that much is obvious. It's strange to say that some sort of childish disappointment passes over his features.

"You'll settle in time," he says softly, more like a prayer than anything.

His hands manoeuvre you onto your belly, so your ass is poised high at the edge of the cot for easy access.

Your Lord is tall enough to mount you on his knees like this, and it's clear that's his intent when a thick cock slides experimentally between your thighs.

You try to look behind you to see just how big a thing is to be rammed into you—but he clicks his tongue like you're some unruly little creature, and that's all the discipline you need to be dissuaded.

"You'll only spook yourself," he sighs lowly.

A fat, rounded tip prods at your entrance, wet and hot.

"I'll be gentle as I can," he continues.

You strain to fit even that, and then the burning starts.

Your Lord groans, his hips hitching forward in little motions as you shake, fighting to keep yourself presented on steady knees for him as he presses deeper.

The pain is incandescent, and you cry out—

"Breathe," your Lor—Titus urges, sounding strained himself, "Breathe."

You squirm, and there's a burning at your rim as he pushes a little deeper; it's a painful reminder of your own lacking size compared to him.

"Almost there," he all but growls, then you hear him raggedly ask, "How... how are you faring?" but you're nowhere near up to the task of responding.

Still, attempting to be dutiful, you try—and all that comes out is a seizing gasp.

You are far too preoccupied with twitching on the scalding slab of Primaris currently giving your insides a stern word to manage a sentence.

In your panic, you manage to smack some part of him twice, even if you have no idea what you're hitting—dragging your hand across wall-sturdy muscle.

Titus stills.

You freeze in fear, waiting for a reprimanding that never comes.

He takes a deep breath in and grits out, "It's alright, it's a difficult fit," to which you whine dumbly, and Titus continues, "I am... larger, than I once was," he says softly, pausing to groan when a shudder sends you squeezing on him, "You're still taking me very well."

He is large, that is true; but he's also warm. So terribly warm, he's almost fever-hot inside of you.

The pain abates in the interim as the pleasure of you steadily acclimatising replaces it, and slowly, you ever so carefully tap him once to continue.

Titus shimmies and you squeal at the burr of electric sensation that makes your mind melt for a half-second, only for your ass to coincidentally scud backwards into his hips with a sticky plap.

You're struck daft when a sudden shrill of lightning sparks up your spine as you feel him bottom out at last, hitting your cervix, blinding you for a heartbeat.

You whine loudly at the sensation.

"All in," he rasps, breathing harshly as he rocks his hips to keep you pliant. "You've done it, hush... it's all inside, little one."

Your cunt's tingling around every inch of him, clenching down—trying desperately to decide wether to buck back against him or scramble off and run for your life. You doubt you could manage the latter. Despite his strange insistence on altruism, there's no way you'd have the nerve to deny the great Angel, lest the Emperor Himself punishes you for it. But you're surely not about to complain about the situation when you're enjoying it so thoroughly.

It's dazzling having him so deep, it feels more akin to being impaled than simply filled.

His balls sit snug against your vulva, heavy against your clit; and you moan—rolling your hips back against his in a moment of delirious bliss.

Titus groans appreciatively, and you strain to tip your head into the big hand petting you while your chin is tucked into the crease of his elbow.

"You're tough for such a small thing," he begins with an airy huff of satisfaction, "I was stunned the last time I managed to fit in a baseline..." he hums, then apparently something seizes his humours and he grumbles, "...let alone now after crossing the Rubicon."

His voice rumbles in his chest where it's pressed to your back, like the purring, hardworking systems of some mighty machine spirit. But the strain behind his cadence plays havoc with your mind, and the sinking realisation you've got him hilted inside your truly takes root.

Your thighs shake, and the room feels stuffier—he feels impossibly closer, and your body is boiling despite the cold press of armour interface ports against your skin as he thrusts back and forth; to say nothing of the fingers fussing your hair out of your face—he's–he's so agonisingly tender.

"Are you finishing on me?" You hear him say, but you honestly cannot even tell if you're cumming because everything is a buzzing lurch of cramping electricity. "Good, that's... very good. Throne, you're—"

You're barely cognisant of him straining forward to a stop; but your body judders with satisfaction, and the rest of his words melt together in your ears into an insensible baritone as you struggle through dazzling ecstasy. It steals the air out of you, nigh agonising bliss sharp and rising from your belly—scrambling at the huge forearms now keeping you in place while he continues fucking into you, weakly crying.

When you return to having a functioning body, you're hyperventilating; and leaving a smear of drool across the interior of Titus' elbow.

Slowly becoming audibly cognisant beyond just the ringing in your head to the wet slapping sound of him chasing his own end in your cunt.

"You'll... you'll have to forgive me for being a little quick, on the first... round," he rumbles against your ear, panting as he nails you right through your afterglow. "It's been... so long, since..."

Titus doesn't even manage to finish his sentence. Instead, he snarls out a low, subharmonic sound and his hips slam forward into you. He's bending you up underneath him; forcing you to let him stuff himself to the base. You feel his balls sandwich against you, and you hear the sopping wet squish of him bottoming out.

His cock throbs inside you, and you're left warbling a dazed whine rife with pleasure addled pain at the sudden roughness.

Hot spend fills you and you keen, acutely aware of it spilling over and dripping out between.

The sensation of having it so deep and yet still too much to contain is playing havoc with your hindbrain, and in that fucked-out state you exhaustedly rock your hips.

A soft grunt is your reward for the effort.

"Careful, careful..." He grits out, panting as his hand draws a smooth, comforting line down the side of your leg before he manages, "You'll get more, just... give me a moment. I promise you, there's plenty where—"

You hear the sound of steel parting, and the white lights of the corridor near blind you.

"Brother," Titus says sharply.

You sober nigh instantly as your stomach proverbially drops to the floor, and your head snaps to the doorway shutting behind the form of a tall, darker Primaris.

"Brother," he receives in answer, "What are you doing?"

"Entertaining... a guest," Titus clears his throat against your ear and tips his head back a little, leaving you clearly shaking in mortification.

He still graciously keeps his body covering yours, and you try to hide under the mass of it.

"I was not aware this sort of entertainment was sanctioned," the other Primaris says, taking a deep inhale and making a strange face—hold on, you–you know this Astartes. You had served in his arming staff temporarily for a day while your judicator had been shuffling positions to keep you busy on the Barge prior to your Lord's arrival and your assignment. You remember the first letter. It was a C—perhaps Cato? No, it began with a digraph—like the end of the word stomach. Chrysion? No, no—it's Chairon—his name is Chairon.

"I ask only that you don't involve the Chaplain," Lord Titus groans, seemingly exasperated. "Just petition the Chapter Master and be done with—"

"No," Chairon interjects flatly as he exhales.

Titus' breath catches, "...no?"

"I want to understand why," he receives in answer, snorting a bit before taking another gulp of air and making the same strange face.

A long, tense silence—and you ought to be terrified and flee, but you can't do much more than squirm weakly on the fat cock stock stiff against your cervix. He still hasn't gone soft, why hasn't he gone soft? Is–Is this what he meant by first round? The frightening stamina of an Astartes in battle is one thing, but it extends even to this? How many rounds have you signed yourself up for?

Chairon harrumphs, "I've never heard of this sort of thing happening, so I want to understand."

Titus huffs hard through his nose like a sort of equine and regards his battle-brother with a knowing tone, "You want a turn then, I assume?"

"If you're willing to allow it," Chairon answers, then looks to you. "And if she's up to the task of two."

You hear Titus hum lowly, and then he gently—ever so gently—cups your chin and tips your head up to see his face.

"Are you?" He rasps, "We'll be mindful not to harm you, should you... accept, such a task."

It's painfully difficult to even think about denying Titus when his big, pupil-blown green eyes meet your own. Your insides ache where he's still buried, but nonetheless some brainless, whorish urgency sends you swallowing harshly and nodding, "Y-Yes, my Lord."

"Go on," Titus chuffs, clicking his tongue at Chairon as a gesture to sit.

Chairon lowers himself down on the thin mattress with one leg off the side of the cot and the other tented up on it, thighs spread.

"I ought to pull out, now."

"No," Chairon huffs, "Not yet, I have an idea."

"Very well," is Titus' answer.

You blanch, and the urge to curl up and simply die nearly overcomes you. You're still—you're still full of your Lord, in every sense of the word, what more can you fit?

Chairon slides himself a little closer until you're practically nosing at his loincloth.

A big hand tilts your chin up and stuffs a thumb between your surprise-parted maw, depressing your tongue.

"You have very pretty lips," Chairon hums as his metal hand pulls his garments away for you.

With a little pressure, you're being guided close to his mostly flaccid cock like a fish by the hook. Then his thumb leaves your mouth and you glare at the length presented to you.

You look up at Chairon's face next, and he raises a brow. So, in turn, you press a soft kiss to the side of his shaft; watching intently when he inhales sharply at the act, pursing his lips for a second.

Then he smiles.

He has a smile that makes you want to melt despite the fact he's an Astartes. It's warm, and suits his fuller cheeks—it's more personable in appearance than you would ever admit aloud out of shame.

You fluster and glance down, taking the head of him into your mouth. He's still huge, regardless of the fact he's mostly half-soft.

Your reward is a thoughtful hum, and a big hand petting your head.

"Lieutenant, do you wish to continue...?"

Titus apparently needs no further invitation.

You're being driven into anew, whining around the steadily hardening member in your mouth and time, for a moment, loses it's bearing. All your mind can bother to focus on is red hot pleasure and heat on your tongue, your own airy, cock-stifled sounds and two syncopated sets of groans and grunts.

"Her mouth's nice and warm," you hear Chairon moan above you.

There's no stall to Titus' pace of thrust as he pants, "I wouldn't know."

"Care to try?"

You have no idea how long you've simply been content in having them both sink in you, but you suddenly return to awareness when you hear Titus' curt, "Gladly."

Then you're suddenly being manhandled like a doll, the cock in you slips out with a pop—as does the one in your mouth—and the room spins as they lift you and change.

You groan in confusion, and paw for the familiar figure now afore you, glancing up.

Titus' hand combs through your hair softly and he chuffs that strange subvocal sound that makes you entranced for a moment.

"Deep breath," your Lord says, and then to your surprise—Chairon's cock presses into you.

It's actually largely easy to take, after having had Titus in you for so long. Chairon's is not as thick as to send you aching, yes, he's big of course, but it's a perfect, pleasurable size inside—and judging by Titus' length now a few inches from your face, it makes sense why he needed to stretch you.

It's practically a bottle of wine, how on Terra did you manage to—

Your thoughts wither as you're forced to moan heartily; namely due to Chairon bottoming out and settling against your cervix.

He moans back, and a huge, warm hand strokes down your spine, heat thudding in your face at the sheer show that he's enjoying you.

Then you're yelping, and something bitterly chilled is on your flesh, sending goosebumps arcing up your back as you flinch.

"Are you alright?" Chairon starts abruptly, and you groan at the freezing steel now pawing at your side.

Titus scowls as he finds the issue before you can voice it, "I think it's your augmentic."

"Really?" Chairon tuts, and leans down to ask, "Is there something the matter with my hand?"

It's clearly a lighthearted accusation, but you haven't been properly subjected to this sort of teasing by a Primaris until today, and you whine.

"It's—it's c-cold," You stutter, and nose against Titus' thigh for comfort; a little uneasy by the confrontation.

Chairon pouts, "I'll keep it's use to a minimum, then."

You swoon at the meagre kindness, and feel your already scalding face boil over as excitement rises.

Titus simpers down at you and remarks, "Is that to your liking?"

You nod and seek a closer hold on his leg for leverage, squirming a little before settling. Your cheek rests against the high point of Titus' thick leg—every so often able to sneak a lick of him.

Titus tuts, "She's very sweet."

The cock in you jerks when the hulking Primaris inside you laughs.

"She smells it, too," Chairon coos, "Don't you, sweet little thing? You smell like you're practically sugared."

You whine needily at the words, Titus' huge cock plastered against your cheek as you leer forward desperately and lap pre-cum from the tip.

"Because she's currently mid-cycle," Titus says flatly. "Her hormones are trying to convince you to breed with her."

Chairon hums thoughtfully, "Fortunate for her that we are, then—still, I'm glad to know that's what that is."

Titus pets you as you continue licking him, one hand carefully managing your hair as the other holds his length to better allow you getting it in your mouth.

Chairon bottoms out again and your body shakes, a trying whine escaping around the cock on your tongue as you relish the sensation.

"You're doing well," Titus rasps out at you, hips making small circles that let him dip into your mouth in short pumps.

Your reaction is wantonly pathetic, if you're completely honest with yourself.

It's a desperate, nasally whimper and a sudden eagerness to please that sends you letting his cock-head bump your epiglottis. Holding for a second despite the ache of your jaw and swallowing before inching yourself away; sputtering a little and moving the heavy swell of his member to warm your tongue instead, sucking on him.

Titus groans in approval, and his hand pets just that much more; earning a sigh when you try stuffing more of him in your mouth again.

Chairon's thrusts steady as he simply takes his time, pacing himself; it's all the better to give your Lord Titus a nice, wanting hole to fuck at his own pace.

"I completely understand... why you were doing this, now," Chairon hums, his pelvis skewing with a slight jerk.

All pretence of steadiness are banished as he starts grinding downward into you, causing a wave of hypersensitivity to stagger you daft.

You clench down hard with a flinch of surprise. Pleasure swelling out of the blue to a crescendo, tipping you over the edge only moments later. The roll of your orgasm ripping through you has your legs locking stiff for a moment, your internal muscles tensing on the intrusion.

Chairon inhales sharply, holding himself perfectly still as your insides cinch down hard around him erratically.

It's certainly not the only finishing happening though, because the cock in your mouth is suddenly painting the inside of your mouth and gullet as you hastily try swallow it down.

Your hear Titus hiss, and the hand in your hair tightens when his thighs start shuddering through heavy throbs of spend.

It feels for a moment as if it's going to come out of your nose there's so much. What doesn't go down your throat definitely tastes wholly unpleasant, but the resumed affections nullify any complaints you have.

You cough and carry on a little at the rapid succession of events and hide your face in Titus's lap again; half-consciously licking your spend stained chops where hopefully neither of them can see.

"My... apologies," Titus is still panting as he says, "I... I should have warned you."

A soft whine is all you can offer.

"Are you well?" Titus asks, tone a little ragged.

You practically shiver around Chairon's cock, and the sound you let out is long-suffering, but not enough.

His voice turns serious, "I need an answer."

A moan flees your throat, "Less—less than before, m-my Lord," you whimper, breathing hard, "But, I'm okay, I'm—n-ngh... not injured."

The grunt he makes in return is an amicable noise, and Chairon seizes your hips with his flesh hand. Lifting you to line up better with his rutting, trying valiantly to ease the pressure.

Oh, that's so much better on your internal walls—the pressure is bliss, and everything is warm and fuzzy and soft; you shut your eyes, moaning—and then you hear the familiar thunk-thunk-click-vshhh of the door opening.

"Titus, you've returned! I'm so glad to hear of your—" a voice starts, then rightly hesitates.

The silence is deafening.

"Chairon?" the blonde Primaris barks suddenly, "What... what are you... what is the serf...?"

You hear Chairon blubber for a moment before laughing in astonished horror, "I'm not even going to try explaining this."

"Gadriel, this is perhaps not a good time," Titus sighs.

The blonde Pri—Gadriel, looks at what little he can of you past your Lord's form and sneers.

The expression only deepens as he scowls, "What are you both doing?"

Chairon lets out a long, trying breath and you feel him lean back a little, yet still remaining inside you as he says, "At least let the door shut before you set about interrogating us, Sergeant."

Gadriel blinks and takes a step in, and promptly sets about putting himself in the furthest corner from the spectacle as possible.

"It reeks of molasses in here," the Sergeant huffs.

Chairon harrumphs, a little strained, "We have been at her a while..." then the attention turns on you, "...she's enjoying herself."

"And that's what the stink is?"

"That," Titus answers, "And seminal fluids."

"To what ends?" Gadriel grumbles and crosses his arms over his chest. "Procreation?"

"There's no restrictions on it in the Codex, believe me."

The look on the Sergeant's face is somewhere between intrigue and confusion, "I've never even heard of it happening."

"It does," Titus offers.

"Really?" Gadriel says.

"I wouldn't have guessed before either," Chairon scoffs.

"From time to time the odd one of us engages in it," your Lord digresses over them both, "But it's under absolute discretion."

"Interesting," the blonde hums.

"Sit," Titus says this time.

Gadriel pouts, "I think I'll stand by, for a while, Lieutenant."

"Suit yourself," Chairon scoffs.

It's distantly amusing watching the trio of great Angels bicker like baseline teenagers.

You might've even dared to laugh at the sheer absurdity, if not for the fact the instant you're about to start you're promptly being fucked stupid again—a heady plap, plap, plap of balls against your vulva and pelvis against your rear.

You try to hide your face in Titus's warm lap, but you're still visible to them all and it's mortifying. Squirming on the heated drag of a cock in you with nothing to shield the fact you're loving every second of it, you toss your gaze aside and accidentally meet the Sergeant's.

He's—he's definitely standing by, and he's certainly watching.

There's a growing redness on his patrician face that proves he's aware of the lewdness of the situation.

"How does it..." Gadriel starts, only to hesitate; failing to feign only vague interest. "How does it feel?"

"Warm and wet... and tight," Chairon rasps, and strokes a huge hand down your back.

Titus hums in agreement, "Very tight."

"Especially when you..." Chairon bucks forward, bottoming out and stealing a gasp from you as your cunt shivers around the sudden effort.

Gadriel's gaze half-lids with the distraction of the sound.

He shifts his weight between his feet irritably, and you can—on some strange level—tell you've got yourself into a looming predicament.

Three. You're to take three Primaris, sooner or later.

Evidently all the so-called inhuman warriors need to return to baser wants and lusts is an example and free reign.

"Where did you even get her?" Gadriel asks, and takes a step closer, keenly looking at your face as you drool on Titus' lap.

Too many eyes on you at your most vulnerable sends flustering, even if your cheeks blaze at the thought.

"I second that," Charion huffs out a wry, short laugh and pets you again, "Where, Lieutenant?"

You whine in embarrassment, insides clenching—there's an infinite torment to the moniker that sends your heart into your throat with lust so wanton you can hardly bare it.

"Lord Calgar apparently knows my tastes all too well," he says lowly above you.

His hand outstretches and cups the whole side of your head including your cheek in one huge palm.

You can't bring yourself to stifle the urge to moan at that, and lean into your Lord Titus' touch like a lovesick dog. "I'll make sure you're not hurt, hm?" Titus rasps, then, to your dismay, decides he's to extricate himself for the time being and starts to scud off the cot.

"Your turn, Gadriel," Chairon huffs at the Sergeant.

You can't really say how quickly he sets about swapping himself in place of your Lord Titus in front of you, because for some reason you blink and the Sergeant is there.

Quite frankly, you weren't sure how long you'd even blinked for. You might have dozed off for a few seconds as far as you're aware.

The cock in front of you is long, smooth, and pretty; with a thatch of dirty blonde hair. Which seems to match it's owner to a fair sum, and it's also already hard. Which is somewhat surprising, given the fact you'd had to mouth at—

"Get on with it, serf," Gadriel says with a stiff jaw; and sits a little more forward, thighs spreading, presenting himself. Big, sturdy quads that would surely be a perfect temporary cushion to rest against.

His cock's heavy with blood and leaning leftward, and you lap at the side—dragging your lips from the base lined by dark blonde hair to the flushed, leaking tip.

You slowly start pumping him with a small hand in a steady jerking motion as you keep the tip of his cock on your tongue.

"Not so bad, then?" Chairon ruts forward, and the push coaxes you to take the Sergeant into your maw.

"Not so bad," Gadriel groans, and a large hand cards across your scalp to fist rudimentary reins out of your hair.

He lets out a choked noise, hips jerking forward in shallow movements in time with the bobbing of your mouth.

It's too large of a thing to even manage more than a few inches, and when the Primaris currently hilted in your cunt decides he's simply got to start grinding himself against your cervix, you're nigh slack jawed on the cock in your mouth.

Big thighs judder beneath you as you let too much too far in all at once, and Gadriel makes a sound you only have a split second of sensibility to associate as an Astartes whining. Then you're gagging around him, tears in your eyes—before he rears back a little and angles himself against your soft palate, a hot flush thudding on your face when he sighs appreciatively.

You moan, and then you're being filled again; only this time it's from the back as nigh molten hot spend spills into your cunt.

Chairon makes an almost inaudible groan, subvocal and menacing; and then smoothes a war-calloused palm down your back.

A shiver races up your spine, innately aware of the feeling as Chairon lets his balls drain as deep as he can.

You're dazed and sensitive as he slackens against you, chuffing softly, "That... that was good."

"Let me have a turn," Gadriel huffs at him, to which he's obliged.

Without complaint, Chairon tentatively withdraws, moving you on top of the Sergeant as he settles on his back.

You swallow the excess drool pooling in your mouth, focus fixated on the sheen of sweat on his scarred face; raising yourself a little with a splayed hand resting between his large pectorals.

"Up, serf—" he rushes, and sneaks a hand between you both to hold himself straight, trying to quicken you sliding down onto his cock.

You can't entirely reign in the shrill whine that escapes your throat.

He's—he's a lot.

You slump against his chest and groan impotently into his large pectorals.

He's too long, and gravity is damning you.

It feels as if he's slamming into your diaphragm instead of your uterus.

Then you're being treated to a ride.

And Throne of Terra, the Primaris Sergeant is rough.

Rabid, even.

A particularly poorly executed thrust jams into your cervix so hard it makes you yelp, blindly clawing at the Sergeant's forearm twice.

He does not heed it, nor feel it, apparently; and continues rutting, head thrown back, heaving in great gulps of air—using you like a toy.

"Gadriel," you hear Titus interject, "Slow down, she's much smaller than you."

Titus' words sends heady attention rushing south despite yourself, and your insides squeeze around the Sergeant, matching the well-fucked ache that thrums through you.

"Can't, feels... ngh—" He bites out in answer, snorting harshly as the grip on your thighs grows bruising.

It hurts, but your mind is suddenly screaming harder, harder, harder—namely thanks to the fact your clit slams into his huge pelvis on the downstroke.

You slap his deltoid and claw down the skin pointlessly.

He sits himself up in reaction, with you in tow.

Your vision smears to colours and shapes for a moment and then you're limbless, being made to bounce on his lap.

He's heaving into against your small shoulder, using you to satisfy himself like a free hole to fuck to completion—and by Terra, he's dragging you along to the same place.

It all happens absurdly fast.

Your insides feel swollen and electric, then they're suddenly jerking, finishing with a quick, wet splash—and everything's stickier where the cock inside you sits.

For a second you can't breathe, it's torment.

But fuck, if it's not amazing.

There's a heavy moan afore you, laden with rumbling subvocals—then finally an airy, pitched keen—and you're pressed flush to the Sergeant despite the fact he can hardly fit all in.

He bucks, and tucks his head against you; and you feel a big slick tongue drag across your shoulder as his cock knocks into where your cunt ends again—sending you sobbing against the huge, scarred span of his chest.

Boiling, overfilling spend leaks out between, adding to your Lord's and Chairon's earlier expenditures in your cunt.

"T-Throne... that's—good," Gadriel strains momentarily, shivering as he grits his teeth and rides out his fulfilment.

Tears have blurred your vision again as your mind reels to understand that you've just been fucked to apparent incontinence. You've just had your insides over-screwed and bullied into squirting on a Primaris, Emperor help you.

Apparently, despite your horror—none of them seem to care.

A few droplets stray from your cheeks and land on the Sergeant's skin. He makes a strange, confused chuff before he realises what's happening.

"W-Why...?" Gadriel pants, attempting to gather himself before he adds, "Why are you... crying, serf?"

You sob weakly, face buried against the hulking swell of one of his pectorals.

"...are you hurt?"

You shake your head.

He inhales harshly, lifting you off him weightlessly with a wet, slick sound of you both disconnecting.

Gadriel's eyes glue to the cum sloughing out of you. It's mostly his, currently—and there's a foreboding look of rabid hunger on his face that almost makes you want to shut your legs.

Suddenly, another set of huge hands join the Sergeant's, holding you aloft as Gadriel moves to stand.

The metal of the right is frigid, and the pressure mechanisms are a tad too stiff to be considered gentle; but the other is warm and tender.

You glance up, and find Chairon softly looking down at you; his big brown eyes crinkled at the edges in a muted smile as he says, "He's too rough with you, isn't he, sweet thing?"

Chairon's lovely smile makes you dopey with sudden charm. It's an infectious sort of look, full of doting that makes you ogle him dumbly; trying to reciprocate with a tired, cock-drunk flutter of your lashes.

"You need to be more careful with her," Chairon glances at Gadriel and clicks his tongue before turning back down at you. The discipline seems purely theatrical, though—and that fact is wildly apparent when you hear the Sergeant scoff.

Then, Chairon is tilting his chin down to fuss over you; his wide jaw nudging your temple, nuzzling into you. Your heart jumps, and it's–it's painfully gratifying having a great Angel do such a thing. Even if you're being buttered up before finally being asked; "Do you still want more?"

You strain up to nose against the large Primaris' jaw, panting as you mumble in agreement.

"I believe that's a yes," Titus hums somewhere to the right, and your vision swims as it tries to find him.

Lo and behold, he's leaning against the wall of the small habitation, glaring low on your body over the rim of a water cup.

Chairon makes a similar sound and adjusts his handhold on you to your legs; splaying your thighs, presenting you.

"We've made a mess," he huffs amusedly.

Peering down yourself if absolutely lurid. Given how you're folded slightly, you can see the sticky lines of leaking semi-opaque white smeared down your thighs, and feel seed leak from you.

You can only imagine how egregious it looks from your Lord's perspective.

Strangely, Gadriel groans at the sight.

"Can..." he starts abruptly, "Can I have her again?"

Chairon laughs, "You've only just finished, she needs a break."

Gadriel grumbles, but gets distracted when you squirm a little and he says, "I... I could give her a break—" but abruptly hesitates and looks over his shoulder, "—unless you want her now, Lieutenant?"

Titus harrumphs, "I'll have her afterwards."

The Sergeant nods, and looks back at Chairon before asking, "Can you keep her up like this?"

"Only if I get her tongue next," he counters.

Gadriel huffs, "Haven't you already?"

"You're to be in her cunt twice," he claps back rather swiftly, "Why can't I do the same with her maw?"

Gadriel snorts sourly, "I'm not going to be just yet, I..." he hesitates, "I have a plan."

Chairon hums, "What sort of plan?"

"Just be careful with her," You hear Titus grunt from the sideline, and then—then you're being lifted a little higher, spread a little wider—and the blonde Primaris gets to his knees.

Two big thumbs spread your labia and you squeal, dithering at the fact he's fondling you in your current dishevelled state.

"If her mouth on us is pleasurable, then the converse must be the same..." he mumbles.

A loud, dry humoured, sarcastic huff from Titus is quickly followed by, "Impressive deduction, Gadriel, you've discovered cunnilingus."

Gadriel shoots a petulant pout over his shoulder at his Lieutenant, before your wriggling drags his attention back.

"You want to...?" Chairon hums.

Gadriel nods, "I just like the sounds."

"Fair enough," says Chairon.

"Now, where do I..." the blonde starts almost inaudibly, seemingly more to himself than anything.

Titus takes a ling sip of water before clearing his throat, "There should be a nub at her upper flesh, that's the female equivalent to our glans."

The Sergeant nods, then turns his big blue eyes up to yours.

"Can you show me, serf?"

You whine and chew your bottom lip, "L-Lord?"

"You'll show me, won't you?"

Your mind can't even begin to think to decline nor argue with him. Swallowing your useless shame, you tentatively move your hand and spread your own folds to give him a target.

Your skin is slippery with slick and cum and hard to properly get a hold on, but you manage and he grins.

It's not as vaguely friendly as Chairon's, nor as strangely brutish as your Lord Titus'... but it's still a little unsettling. Even if it's eager.

"Good, serf..." is the last thing he says before wet warmth is practically locked on your clit.

An airy whimper leaves you, and your body jackknifes pointlessly at the sudden acute pleasure.

You shudder bonelessly in Charion's arms, and you're only vaguely aware you're tugging two-handed at Gadriel's hair while you squirm.

His tongue curls against it, rolling in nigh tidal attenuation; making your hamstrings pull taut and shudder lax. He's not as precise in his torments as Titus, but the enthusiasm makes up for it.

Both Chairon's organic hand and mechanised one grip under your thighs, while Gadriel's firmly keep your hips still.

Throne of Terra, you can feel your own heartbeat reverberating through you against his tongue.

Your fingers dig into his scalp but it just makes him lap just that little bit faster, only for him to discover that sucking makes you cry out. Your abdominal muscles start to hurt at the strain of your body being tormented while reaching down to tug, as do your hips from being so wide.

Your left's fingers find cold metal instead of hair in a mindless haze and you hiss, and try to find a hold.

Gadriel's suddenly open-mouthed against your cunt, keening with a groan.

His scarred chin is saturated with cum and slick, and he's bright red across the belt of his cheeks and sloping nose; he looks dazed periodically, like a slavering hound going at it's cut of meat.

One hand moves from your hips, and a finger prods at your perineum—then jabs you in the arse entirely on accident.

To your surprise, there's enough of his semen coating you that half of it slides in with lubricated ease; still, you yelp loudly.

It burns almost as much as it stings and the stretch of just his finger is maddening, but it starts to disappear in an instant when he licks your clit again.

Chairon grumbles, "What did you do?"

"I..." Gadriel pants, huffing in bemusement as he licks his lips and pulls away from your cunt. "I only put a finger in?"

Titus groans and claps a palm to his own forehead, "In the wrong hole, Gadriel."

The blonde pouts, looking up to Chairon with open confusion, "Should... should I pull it out?"

Even squirming with a Primaris' ring finger up your ass, it's surreal to be treated to the spectacle of them bickering once again.

"It's not my rear," Chairon laughs a little and looks down at you, straining and thudding hot in the face.

Gadriel blinks and realises himself, then meets your gaze.

"Is this painful for you?"

You manage a quick, "F-Fuh—feels a lil w-weird, m'lord."

"How's this?"

His finger curls inside your guts and by sheer blind luck pokes right into the back of your uterus. There's only a membrane and a thin bit of muscle between the two channels, afterall; and the shiver of surprised bliss that assails you doesn't go unnoticed.

Gadriel's breathing quickens, "Is that better?"

You nod shakily as he repeats the gesture, and then ogles up at you from between your spread legs.

His middle finger suddenly crooks to fit into the hole he intended, and you're overwhelmed at the feeling.

It's a combination you can't even begin to explain, new and odd, but addictive and then you're crying out something—something you're barely even cognisant of saying, a high pitched; "P-Please, please—"

Gadriel all but groans at the words, drawing his fingers out and rearing up to lick your abdomen; trailing his mouth up to one of your breasts and dragging a wide band over one with his tongue before groaning.

Before you can even moan, Gadriel's crowded himself against you and his cock is sloppily pressing back into you.

A sob rackets out of your throat, and your eyes swim in their sockets for an instant. Head thrown back against Chairon's clavicle as you heave in desperate gulps of air.

You're hyper-aware of the two sets of massive hands now holding you in place, and the huge cock sawing in and out of you; kissing your cervix on every thrust. This position is easier on your insides, but not by much. Gadriel is still a fraction too long to manage sheathing himself without your mild discomfort.

Both their eyes are locked upon your face, one pair of brown and one pair of blue—both half-lidded and focused on the surely fucked-out expression you're wearing.

It's pure, utter debauchery; and you paw mindlessly at the Sergeant's pectoral, gasping as he grows more and more frantic.

"She's... she's s-still so tight," he groans.

Chairon laughs lowly, "Never thought you'd be brought so low by something so tiny."

Gadriel's too preoccupied to meaningfully argue beyond curling his lip derisively.

Time blurs into delirious moments of aching and bliss, and Gadriel is much less feral in his pace than the last time—every thrust is easier, as your body begins to learn to take it. Or at least, you're certainly getting there—even if there is probably another agonising orgasm on the dusty blonde's cock.

You're only cognisant of being spoken about when Chairon's smooth voice offers, "Put your thumb on it—"

Gadriel snarls, "I... I know."

You blink, and glance downward, confused—and then you're fighting uselessly against the massive vices holding you open.

A reedy, straining shriek tears from your throat as the Sergeant's finger depresses your clit.

Your struggles make the overwhelming sensation so, so much more intense; and you may as well be getting electrocuted for the abrupt sensation you experience. It's as if you're being doused in ice and steam and promethium in one fell swoop.

They're beasts scenting weakness like blood on the gale in that moment, for all intents and purposes.

Chairon rocks you forward into Gadriel's hips and you're overfull of cock and shaking—dragged insensibly into your finish with another scream.

Every nerve in your body is a live wire as you try to fight the severity of it, mindless to the fact you're clawing at skin that's too invulnerable to even hope to mark.

They force your crest higher and higher, Charon still fucking you into the Sergeant's animalistic rutting, even as you cramp and squeeze helplessly.

Lungs several times larger than your own gust out a rapid series of breaths, and abruptly there's a long moan reaching your ear—and fresh heat in your cunt.

A weak, exhausted moan leaves you as you're carefully relieved of the massive cock inside you and deposited on the cot, on your back—only for Chairon to take his place near your head like he had to begin with.

Except this time you're on your back, and his cock is already at your cheek.

Meanwhile, Titus moves your thighs to bracket his hips as he kneels; sliding himself in place, seating balls-deep.

A whimper tears from you at the heavy sensation of being filled so soon again, and you moan when he slowly pulls out, only to slide back in. The pace is tender but firm, keeping you alert to the stretch but not suffering from it. Your body has had what feels like—and what very well may have been—hours to get used to having an Astarte in it.

You mouth at the side of Chairon's length with a daft sort of hunger; drooling across the blood-fat shaft before tilting your head to let him angle the swollen tip of himself in.

"That's it," he huffs, and pets your cheek.

You can taste your own slick, plus he and Titus' cum, and it's still not an entirely pleasant of a tang on your palate—but the big hand raking soft strokes through your hair riles you to continue.

It's clear he's high-strung after having to help Gadriel with you to no service to himself, and it's all the better to give him that attention.

You're getting tired, but regardless, you offer your tongue to Chairon and try heartily to let him take what he can; and he's more than happy to apparently just use your mouth to keep the head of him nice and warm while he strokes the base of himself.

His breathing starts to stutter as Titus gains pace, and you're actively tipping your head forward into his thrusts to let him stuff more of himself into your mouth.

The thrill of having the two of them panting like beasts is sending you spiralling, bucking your hips up against your Lord's pelvis in time with his thrusts in a sloppy, uncoordinated desperation that he rewards with a moan each time.

You hear Chairon keen, heaving through his nose as his hips jerk forward; groaning heavily as he finally finds his end.

A fat, heated spill of cum on your tongue makes you whine and double down your efforts, swallowing the Primaris' load.

"Hah, there... you go," he grind, teeth gritted and sneering a little.

Chairon pets you again before he runs a thumb across your lips to wipe away the few ropes of his spend that you hadn't managed to wolf down. He promptly sits himself back and continues carefully patting you while Titus manhandles you closer beneath his frame.

You glance down to watch your Lord's cock disappear inside you, pulling free and then sinking back in before repeating the action; eyeing big sturdy hips made for supporting a huge cock.

The Emperor surely is all knowing given his proportioning of His Angels.

But you aren't given a chance to think further on the matter as you're suddenly being folded under Titus.

Squirming, you're deaf to the sounds being driven out of you as you're locked in place by a body infinitely stronger than your own.

You paw at his chest, whimpering nonsense and he groans—and you're all but stunned daft and pliant by what he says in answer.

"That's it, one more... good, very... very good," he pants, fucking just that little bit harder.

You're helpless to your own orgasm, crying openly when it's claws sink into you. It's too much, it's far, far too much and this is as far as you can go—anymore and you feel like you'll dissolve into the cot. And you can't even stop yourself from sobbing your Lord's name as the tide of it nigh smothers you.

"Finally..." He groans loudly and his rhythm deteriorates almost immediately to choppy little bucks—and with a last bit of effort, he keeps you pinned and held down despite your overstimulated squirming and his load is emptied right into your womb like it's always meant to've been there.

Titus keeps you like that for a moment as you barely scrape your sense off the proverbial floor. Legs twitching where hooked over his hips, all the while you cunt's milking him for every drop he's got.

"I think... I think you've had... enough, hm?"

Titus lifts himself away and pops loose of your sore, puffy hole with an audible wet slide and a frothing mix of cum layered on his cock.

A soft groan escapes you as the weight and toll of exhaustion sets in, drowsy and well-fucked almost to the point of limpness.

"Up," you hear Gadriel harrumph.

Despite the fact you feel like you're about to pass out, you try valiantly—and get about a forth of the way there, leaning forward while resting back on your elbows as Gadriel takes a seat beside you, with a mug of water precariously filled a bit too high in his huge hand.

Gadriel thrusts the cup close to your face, sending a few drops over the cusp and onto your chest, trailing down a cum splattered chest.

You and he both ogle the water dumbly for a moment in surprise, flickering your gaze between him and it a few times for good measure.

He pouts and his cheeks redden a little as he mumbles, "Drink, serf."

You lap at the side for a second and manage to gulp down a mouthful, swishing it about for a second before swallowing.

You get three more sips as he steadily tilts the cup into your mouth, before he decides you've had enough kindness for the time being and pulls it away.

Titus hums, "Up you get, little one."

You fuss, and try to rise once again.

"There we go," Chairon tuts as he lifts you by the arm as you struggle to stand, supporting you effortlessly.

The care is flattering, even moreso seeing as they've apparently drawn a line in the sand for your apparent usefulness as a seminal dump.

Titus has long since settled back into a kneel again at the side of the cot, petting your thigh like he's trying to calm a skittish stray animal.

He reaches sidelong for the discarded fabric of his loincloth, before promptly deciding it unfit; and reaches for a stray corner of the half sloughed off bedsheet, tearing a large piece away.

You start at the sudden display, half in belated surprise and half in concern for the state of his bed—it's your duty to make sure it's in good keeping foremost, and—

"Hush," your Lord says with a small chuff, "Don't worry about that, just stay still."

Gadriel lowers the cup towards Titus and he dips the edge of it in the water before carefully dragging it across your cheek.

The three of them are very much ogling you, and it's very hard not to dither and fluster at the attention as you're methodically wiped clean. Especially when the cloth dips between your thighs and drags over your abused, sensitive sex, making you whine.

Titus chuffs, "Sore?"

You nod sheepishly as your insides cramp, and rub your legs together, accidentally making a show of liquid leaking out of you.

"Poor sweet thing, look at you drip..." Chairon interjects.

You dare a soft, impish smile which your Lord mirrors.

But the comment makes Gadriel almost instantly tilt his head to watch your overfilled cunt weep their combined slurry of cum; to which he decides the best thing to say is, "Shouldn't have bent over for us so easily."

In your weary, near fucked-to-delusion state, the urge to frown sourly like a petulant child supersedes any decorum, and you're met by a husky snort of amusement from your Lord.

"Some of that's yours, Sergeant," Titus remarks dryly.

Chairon begins laughing as Gadriel's face colours a pretty, endearing pink.

[soka-starxi]

Savagery

Part 1

Titus x afab! medic serf, Gadriel x afab! medic serf

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Mentions of needles and bl00d (not graphic)

A/N: brainworm thoughts of Titus and Gadriel getting jealous over Titus’ new serf. That’s literally it. Potential smut to come <3

I haven’t written in a hot minuet but I tried!!!!

* 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　　 ✦ .

Light footsteps was all that could be heard as you hurried through the dimly lit corridor, holding your breath in case met with the few Astartes still up at such late hours

You let the data slate tighten in your grip, the dull ache serving as a reminder to keep awake

The now lieutenants return has resulted in your chambers being stacked to the brim with medical documents and equipment

You can’t stop now…you cannot take this promotion for granted…

For weeks now you’ve repeated these words in your head like a mantra, every passing day turning into a blur trying to adjust to the new comings

Before even realising, your met with the entrance of the lords quarters

Embarrassingly up on your tiptoes you uttered your name into the vox system

A heavy pause hung in the air

Letting out a silent sigh and craining your head up again you made sure the urgency was understood

“Lord Titus..i require your assistance to fill out my medical report. I have my orders”

To no prevail.

Silence clinging in the air caused your fingers to mindlessly drum on the weathered data slate

The effect now spreading to your foot as it thrummed impatiently on the floor below..

A heartbeat later and you’re tiredness has now got the better of you as you took a sharp breath in

“Lord Titus I am not leaving here until you let me in which I strongly suggest you do before I-”

As the metal door ached open your breath stilled at the sight of the unclad marine

Not daring to look him in the eye, you peeled your attention from the comm system and slowly brought your tiptoed feet forward

“Enter, serf”

Titus clipped tone forced your gaze down even more, biting your tongue at the former tone in your voice

Engulfed by the gentle warmth of the candlelit room it took every bone in your body to resist the temptations of sleep that clung to your body

Leaving you to prep the needle injector in defaning silence

He was still…too still

Nonetheless, the skin from his recent rubicon surgery was rough against your dwarfed hand

The sheer size of him was still something you were yet to accustom to as you cleaned the area for the needle before extracting his blood

You were becoming familiar with your lords avoidance of medical systems, not wanting the fuss of the med-bay

However, you were a serf and you had orders. It was not your place to speculate the astartes preferences as long as he’s content and well

“All done my lord. Do you require any further assistance?”

The half of the sentence was muffled as you attempted to stifle a yawn

As the lieutenant rose form his cot, a short huff let you know that he was certainly done

it’s like talking to a iron wall

Pleasure seeped throught your aching body as you finally rested in your cot waiting for sleep to take over

Unfortunately it wasn’t that easy of corse… uncertainties plagued your mind, leaving you with a knot in your stomach

I pray the rest of his squad isn’t as stubborn as him

* 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　　 ✦ .

The reflection in the mirror looked utterly drained even with the little makeup you were allowed to wear

Scanning over your uniform one last time for even the slightest mistake, you broke into a light jog

You’d hate to keep your lord waiting

Realising this was a bad move was obvious when you practically crashed into a slab of ceramite. An astartes…

Fear gripped at your limbs holding you impossibly still, the adrenaline making you forget about the pain

“Watch where you’re going, serf”

Heart threatening to beat out your chest, you stuttered

“Y-yes my lord”

The longer the silence went on for the quicker your breath huffed

The astartes was clearly not satisfied with your answer..

“Look at me”

Dread made your mind spin. And you obeyed

Slowly, you dragged your eyes up to the red helmet boring into you

He took a step closer now only inches from your body, forcing your neck to crane even higher to keep his gaze

“Where are you headed, serf?”

It was less of a question and more of a statement

“To..to serve lord Titus, my lord”

He let out a muffled scoff as he suddenly gripped your arm, reminding you of how weak you were to him

Please..please Gods help me..

[kit-williams]

Ovulation fic: Gadriel

its not much but for all of ya'll ovulating here's some pussy drunk Gadriel.

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

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @ms--lobotomy @nekotaetae

@sleepyfan-blog @remembrancer-of-heresy @felinisnoctis @solspina @the-californicationist

tw: smut

You were panting hard as overstimulation crept up on you. Panting rapidly as your legs trembled and squeezed the head between your legs. The good Sargent was not deterred as his tongue dove deeper, his bright blue eyes were closed as his tongue was buried deep in your sex. He moaned as only one hand was holding your thigh, by the movement of his other shoulder you were very certain what was occupying his other hand.

"Such a tasty pussy." He moans pressing his tongue as deep as he can rolling your clit against his tongue. You whined as you hoped he wouldn't make you overstimulated again to the point that you were crying for relief while he was pussy drunk again.

"My Lord, mercy please." You finally say before shrieking out in an orgasm. Sweat rolled down your neck as you laid there panting.

"Be glad I am so merciful." He says in that gruff tone but even in private he still had to put on some sort of show for a nonexsistant observer.

Between the first thrust in and now… him hovering over you, cradling your head, panting in your ear, as his hips jackhammered into your own. The chant of praises devolved into him claiming his ownership of you to devolving to a series of noises. Though it feels that it all ends too quickly as his eyes cross for the moment you see them before he buries his face into the cot as he cums inside of you.

He rolls off of you before he crushes you and there is a silent order for you to stay.

[zackprincebooks]

🥘Feast Day 🥘

As a kitchen serf in the fortress-monastery, you love feeding your lord angels. If your meager work is one of the few pleasures they can enjoy in their endless war, then you are happy to serve. But your decadent meals are not the only pleasure they seek, and you will come to serve in a different way. (Gadriel x Reader, explicit. 2nd person PoV, Reader is not addressed with a name or gendered pronouns.)

Want to read this on Ao3? Click here!

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Fragrant steam rises from the kitchen, fogging up the glasses of the head chef as you open the oven to remove your roasting pan. Some juices dribble off the saber bear roast and splash into the oven, making a sizzling sound and producing even more steam.

“Careful! We still need to braise the grand chestnuts in the sauce, so don’t lose too much jus.” The Master of the Refectorium cleans his glasses on his apron and puts them on, groaning as they immediately fog up again. You take a knee to remove the roasting pan, huffing as your sweaty, mitted hands struggle to lift it onto the counter. 

“I need an extra pair of hands here!” Immediately three people rush to your side as the roasting pan threatens to tip over, pushing it back with their hands wrapped in dish towels. Together, you hoist the roasting pan onto some trivets waiting on the counter. Your fellows clap you on the back and one of them offers you a towel. 

“Many thanks.” You wipe your glistening brow with the proffered towel before throwing it over your shoulder. “If I dropped this and wasted eight hours of roasting, I couldn’t show my face around the monastery.” The thought of explaining to the Lord Angels that they would go without dinner was enough to make your knees weak. 

You didn’t fear them; you loved them with every inch of your weak, mortal heart. Feeding the Emperor’s Angels was a holy duty in and of itself, and you could not meet their disappointed gaze if you had to tell them you ruined one of their few pleasures in life. 

The saucier takes the pan of drippings over to the stove with a bottle of wine and a sack of chestnuts, and you are forced to wash the pan’s rack as you let the roast rest on the counter. It’s watching you, teasingly, begging you to cut into it to check if the inside is done. For such a powerful animal, saber bear meat was notoriously finicky. One minute over its extensive roasting time, and those delicate proteins would start breaking down into gray, unpalatable mush.

“Are you trying to kill it again?” Your saucier teases, giving the chestnuts a little flip. Drops of wine sauce glitter in the air like precious garnets, but your focus is directed towards your precious roast. Every time someone walks by, your breath hitches for fear that they would accidentally knock it to the floor—despite the roast being too big and heavy for anyone but a Space Marine to nudge it off the counter.

Finally—fucking finally—you can cut into it. It’s a thing of beauty; adorned with spices and herbs and the carving knife cuts through it like butter. Each plump slice is a beautiful ruby red, adorned with glittering pearls of fat. More juice spills from each cut, flowing over your knife like reams of crimson silk. You swallow the desire to fawn over the individual slices; it will be almost dinner time, and serving the lords cold, flaccid meat would be a bigger disappointment than serving nothing at all! 

You’re halfway through slicing the roast when you hear the distant sound of a bell ringing, heralding the approach of the Lord Angels. Despite that, you hold off on cutting faster; the roast needs to rest for a second time before you can serve it, and you will have plenty of time during the first course. Nothing but the best for your angels.

The metal window opens up to the dining hall, and you briefly look up from your work to admire the gathered angels.  Many of them have come from the baths with hair still damp and cheeks flushed red from steam. Sometimes you envy the bath serfs, who tend to the lords at their most vulnerable, but you would never relinquish the joy you feel from filling their bellies.

Their first course is an array of broiled root vegetables, many of them slathered in cheese, erdripper bacon, or both. While you bemoan the sheer amount of grease and fat, reaching the ten-thousand calories required to keep a Space Marine fed and running was no easy feat. At least they were getting their vegetables, and not fully subsisting on nutrigruel and amino-porridge. You shudder to think of what your angels eat on the battlefield without your spoon and pan!

Lord Gadriel glimpses you cutting your roast, and his blue eyes light up. “I hope that’s for me later,” he says with a smile, nodding towards you. His blond hair is damp from the baths and the light glances off it, giving him a true halo. You blush and look down, continuing to cut.

From behind him, Lord Chairon lets out a deep throated chuckle that rattles your ribcage. “Don’t be greedy, brother! Leave some for us! That’s a prize of a roast.” He thwaps Gadriel on his bare bicep with a powerful fist and you watch it bounce.

When Gadriel takes his first course, he levels his gaze at you and the warmth in your lower belly tells you he’s not thinking about the roast. -------------------------------

If your fellow cooks knew you wanted to stay late to get a slice of the saber bear roast to yourself, they didn’t show it. The master bids you goodnight, tossing his soiled apron into the hamper as he leaves.

To your credit, you do wash, chop, and wrap the chimera fruit and cobblemoss in preparation for breakfast tomorrow, and you’re in the middle of cleaning your workstation when you hear footsteps down the hall leading to the kitchen doors. The bulky shadow on the opposite wall makes your heart throb in your chest and you abandon the washrag on the counter to approach the double doors.

“Lord Gadriel, may I assist you? Was tonight’s dinner not enough to satisfy you?” While mealtime was over, the kitchen was open to anyone who needed food.

He smiles at you, his head tilting to one side. “I am quite satisfied by tonight’s meal; it was delicious. Thank you for your hard work. I have never gone hungry, so long as you are in the kitchen. But I feel as though you have gone unsatisfied…”

Your breath stutters as your gaze drifts down to the bulge in Gadriel’s sweatpants. It felt too obscene to see that part of an angel; to know that they lusted and wanted just as a fragile mortal. It feels even worse to stare at it, but when you drag your gaze up to Gadriel’s face, you find his expression is as hungry as his body. Your legs clench as though you can feel his tongue against the apex of your thighs as he licks his lips.

“I would never demand you to feed me, my lord,” you protest weakly.

“Nor would answer your demand,” Gadriel counters. You try to hold your ground as he advances, but Gadriel's oppressive weight eventually pushes you against the steel wall behind you. It cools your sizzling skin but doesn't temper the flame of your arousal.

One of Gadriel's hands reaches out to touch the meat of your bottom lip, skimming the bite marks in the soft flesh. You can smell the nourishing oils from his bath earlier, making his skin soft and tender. You resist the urge to lick it, even though your mouth is watering.

“I want you to beg for it.” His growling voice makes your belly clench. Suddenly you feel horrifically empty; starving to feel Gadriel inside of you even if he would shred you alive.

“Please feed me, my lord. Fill me with your need and allow me to sate you.” Your lips brush against Gadriel’s thumb with each word, and you punctuate your pleas with a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb.

“Open wide,” is his only warning before Gadriel pushes you to the floor. He's gentle about it, but for an angel, it means you're lucky that your knees don't break when they impact with the floor. He winces when you do, and whispers “sorry,” as he runs his fingers through your hair as penance. With his opposite hand, Gadriel slowly pulls down his sweatpants until his cock manages to pop out. He's not as long as you expected him to be, but he is deliciously thick and veiny, with a large, red head. The dusting of golden hair on his crotch is well-groomed…had he been expecting you? 

Waiting for you?

Wanting you?

This is a delicacy to be savored. Opening your mouth, you press a sucking kiss to the head of his cock before sticking out your tongue to wet his slit. He's still too long for you to take him wholly into your mouth, so you use one hand to stroke what you cannot reach as your mouth slowly engulfs him.

Gadriel's primal groan is sweet on your ears, as is his hand pushing your face further into his groin. The head of his cock bumps the back of your throat and your futile attempts to relax your throat to take more only make you gag sloppily. A dribble of saliva is forced out from the corner of your mouth with his next thrust.

If looking at Gadriel's bulging cock was obscene, this is a blessing. Your only lament is that you cannot take the whole of his cock into your mouth so that he could properly fuck your throat. But you take some sadistic pleasure in watching the tremble of his hips as he valiantly holds himself back.

The hallway behind the kitchen is soon filled with the wet noises of your sucking and Gadriel's deep moans. Your muffled whimpering joins in as your free hand dives under your apron and into your pants to touch yourself. It feels wrong to take your pleasure when Gadriel hasn't finished, but the burning between your legs is only heightened by his noises.

Your sounds do not go unnoticed by his sensitive hearing, and his chuckle sends shivers down your spine. “Does this make you feel good? I can make you feel even better than your mere fingers. Would you like that?”

With your eyes watery, your lips puffy, and your face red with exertion, you're sure you look like a mess. But Gadriel's blue gaze is soft as he watches your mouth contract around his cock.

“Would you like that?” He repeats, gentler this time, and you nod, unintentionally bobbing around his cock so his breath stutters. “G-good.”

Your whine of pleasure turns to one of disappointment as Gadriel pulls his cock from your mouth, glistening with your saliva. You don't even have time to wipe your lips before Gadriel tugs you to your feet with one hand on your shoulder.

Lifting you against the wall until you're at eye-level with him, Gadriel pulls you in for a kiss. It muffles your initial “mmph!” on impact, but Gadriel's lips coax softer sounds out of you. You can taste the slight sweetness of cream on his mouth from tonight's dessert. Pressed between the bulk of his chest and the unforgiving wall, you just barely fit your arms around Gadriel's shoulders to run up and down his back. Under your hands, his broad shoulders flex and bulge.

Your kiss breaks with a quiet smacking sound and Gadriel steps back for a moment. He takes the time to step out of his pants, though he doesn't remove his shirt. There's a thin sheen of sweat gathering at his collar that you want to lick, but it dawns on you that you’re in the middle of a hallway behind the kitchen.

“My l-lord, should w-we really b-be doing this?” Gadriel’s hand pauses as he reaches for the strings of your apron.

“Do you want to? If you are afraid of the consequences, then I will cover for you. It is no trouble,” he says quickly as you open your mouth. “I want this.”

“I want this, too. I just feel a little…” You gesture to the hallway. “Exposed. And we are not fucking in the kitchen.”

Gadriel chuckles, pressing his powerful arms against the wall. His head tilts downwards until you are fully boxed in, sheltered by his body. Occasionally, you can feel his breath feathering the top of your hair. “Still feeling exposed?”

“Not anymore, my lord.” You smile at him, which he returns.

You meet again for another kiss; gentler this time. Gadriel's jaw rubs yours and you can feel the stubble under his chin where he missed shaving in the bath. His hands slide down your body, spanning the entire length of your ribcage before dipping down to cup your ass and lift once more against the wall. He breaks the kiss and tilts down to kiss your neck before nibbling. It's almost ticklish, and you giggle for a second until he bites.

“Oh, oh,” one of your legs attempts to kick out but Gadriel holds you firmly against the wall. Almost as if he's showing off, he holds you with one hand while his other unties the strings of your apron.

“Are you a virgin?” He whispers into your skin. You manage a trembling no, and he nips underneath your right ear. Gadriel lets go of your legs again and backs up by a half step.

“Turn around for me and put your hands against the wall for me...yes, just like that.” Gadriel presses a fleeting kiss you the back of your neck before his weight leaves you. You feel his bulk settling somewhere behind you, under you, and his hands reach around to your front in order to unbuckle your belt and pull down your pants. The cool air hits your bare skin, but even as Gadriel pulls down your underwear, you still don't feel chilled. Not when his warm hands are caressing your ass and spreading your cheeks to reveal your tight hole.

“Now this is a treat,” he murmurs under his breath before leaning in and licking a stripe up your crack. The warmth and wetness of his tongue on your most intimate and vulnerable place makes you melt and moan. Your breath fogs up the steel wall as you pant from his questing tongue.

Not only is he skilled, but he is also relentless. Gadriel assaults your tight pucker with licks and sucks; if anyone dared to walk down this hallway, they wouldn't need to round the corner to hear the lewd noises that bounce off the walls. You hide your burning red face in your folded arms against the wall, but it does nothing to quiet your moaning and whimpering.

Once your hole is properly wetted, Gadriel sits back on his heels to admire his handiwork. You dare to look over your shoulder down at him. His expression is so fucking smug that it would be almost insulting, if it weren't for the fact that you were both naked from the waist down.

“You're being very good,” he murmurs, giving your ass a squeeze, “just a little longer, all right? I don't want to hurt you.”

“All right.” You turn your face back into your arms, but not before you watch Gadriel insert three fingers into his mouth. There's a soft sucking noise, akin to the sound he made while he ate your ass. He wets them thoroughly and pulls them out of his mouth with a pop.

Though your previous experiences with anal were few and far between, you know enough that you don't flinch when the first of Gadriel's thick fingers breaches your asshole. He's loosened you enough so there's nothing more than a brief pinching sensation before he's able to start pushing in and out.

“You're very tight in here,” Gadriel muses, “has it been a long time?” When you hesitate, he kisses the swell of your ass cheek. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

“It's been a while,” you hedge, “with, ah, work and everything.”

“You work so hard,” and Gadriel thrusts more forcefully on the word hard, making you gasp, “let me help you relax.” He adds a second finger, and you moan at the stretch.

You attempt to raise a counterpoint, “I-I serve...the angels...”

“Then let me serve you, for a chance.” Gadriel spreads his fingers apart to scissor you open. “I wasn't lying when I said I'm always satisfied with your meals. You feed me so well.”

When he adds the third finger, your vision goes white. Your moaning has turned into sobbing, tears of pleasure running down your cheeks. You could cum like this if not for the larger prize awaiting you.

Gadriel seems to notice, and he slowly withdraws his fingers from your hole, making a lewd, squelching sound. You don't know whether you're more turned on by the sound or by what it means when Gadriel stands up. You attempt to brace yourself against the wall for the punishing pounding you're about to receive, but Gadriel grasps you by the waist and turns you around one final time.

“I want to see you when I take you.” You lean on him to untie your shoes and take your pants off all the way, and when he lifts you in his arms one final time, his blue eyes fill you with warmth.

“Thank you.”

This is a familiar position for you by now, with your thighs bracketing Gadriel's sides and his chest pressed against yours—only this time, the head of Gadriel's cock rubs against your stretched, wet hole. You rock your hips until it catches the rim of your ass. You're not sure who gasps when the head sinks into you.

You scrabble for purchase on Gadriel's back and he holds you closer, sinking in little by little. “Angel,” you choke into his ear, and he responds with a cracked moan of your name.

He's so big. That's the only thing running through your mind. Though you held Gadriel's cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago, it somehow feels longer and thicker as he sinks you down onto it. When you feel his balls on the swell of your ass, you can't help looking down to make sure there's not a bulge in your stomach.

“It's in?” Gadriel pants, and you nod.

“It's in. A-all of it. Oh, Throne, I took all of it...” He chuckles weakly, kissing your temple. 

“Do you think you're ready for me to move?”

“Yes!” The word is barely out of your mouth before Gadriel thrusts, pushing you upwards against the wall. You scrabble for purchase on his back, rucking up his shirt and exposing some of his ports.

“So tight, am I hurting you? You feel...so good.” Gadriel pants directly into your ear, his warm breath cascading down the collar of your shirt.

“No, doesn't hurt, but—” Gadriel fucking stops and you muffle your scream by biting his shoulder. “It feels like you're splitting me in half!”

“That's the plan,” he huffs, and resumes thrusting. The positioning is a little awkward; you almost wish Gadriel took you from behind. But on a particularly harsh thrust that makes your toes curl, you watch Gadriel's lips part softly and his eyes roll back into his head.

That alone makes everything worth it.

Despite your best efforts, you cum first. Gadriel holds you through it, continuing to grind his cock into your asshole so you can ride it out. When you pull back, you stammer your apologies at the wet spot your orgasm left on his shirt.

“No, don’t apologize. It was beautiful.” Gadriel kisses you, gently wiping your tears with his thumb. “Do you want me to cum in you?” When he grinds into you again, you swear his balls feel fuller than before.

“Please, Gadriel,” you whimper, and his next kiss devours your mouth. You can barely breathe even through your nose as your oversensitive ass is pounded by Gadriel’s cock, molding your hole to its shape. When Gadriel pulls away, the long string of saliva connecting your mouth snaps as his head throws back with a deep moan. You seize the moment to pounce and bite down on his exposed neck, relishing in the whine Gadriel makes as he pumps your ass full of hot, sticky cum.

After all the sounds you’ve made, the hallway is silent as you both come down. You nibble on Gadriel’s neck and rub his back, careful to avoid his ports lest you overstimulate him. His hands squeeze your thighs in appreciation before lowering you onto the ground. Both of you wince as his cock slips out of you.

“Oops,” Gadriel laughs sheepishly, reaching beyond you. Looking over your shoulder, you watch Gadriel touch a dent in the wall made by his forceful thrusts.

“It’s all right; nothing important is on the side of that wall,” you reassure him with a kiss. Gadriel helps you put your pants and shoes on, sneaking kisses and copping feels as he ties your apron.

“Did you at least enjoy it?” The shy expression on his face is so cute, you want to kiss him—so you do.

“It was amazing. But I think I would enjoy it more in a bed.” You lean back and stretch, wincing as your back cracks.

“That can be arranged, if you’d like?” Gadriel pauses in the middle of pulling his sweatpants back on. “I understand there is a stereotype of Space Marines sleeping on slabs of rock, but my bed is quite comfortable.”

“I’m very tempted,” and Gadriel’s nigh rakish grin is enough to make you reconsider, “but I have other plans for the rest of my night. Though you’re welcome to join me?”

It takes a few minutes to reheat the sauce, as it has coagulated since dinnertime. But soon, the kitchen fills with the sounds and smells of simmering red wine sauce and grand chestnuts. You let the sauce go while you prepare the roast. Gadriel’s patience is adorable; keeping his hands to himself as you occasionally pass him with hot pans and sharp knives.

The kitchen is quiet as you both eat, hunched over the counter. You savor every bite, letting the tender flesh fill your mouth. With the tender sweetness of the grand chestnuts breaking up the robust flavor of the roast and the acidic quality of the sauce, it’s the perfect dish.

Well…

Your eyes cut over to Gadriel. He catches you staring and gently nudges you with his elbow, eyes twinkling.

Almost perfect.

[thevoidscreams]

Gadriel x Reader

Warnings: oral (male receiving), edging,cock warming, sexual frustration, thigh job, cumming inside first time.

A surprise bit of smut for my hoes out there.

"I truly fail to see how this will help anything." Gadriel gasped. His teeth clenched as he tried and failed to tell himself that this hadn't been what he'd wanted from you all along.

He was a proud Sargent of the Ultramarine, a stalwart defender of the ideal of his chapter and a- oh.. oh he wanted you to do that with your tongue again.

His head fell back as you dragged the tip of your tongue over the tip of his cock. Licking up the pearl of precum before placing a little kiss there.

"Have some faith Gad, it's a bonding exercise. We both have to take part for it to work."

He didn't care at the moment he just wanted you to hurry up and make the feeling boiling in his guts go away. His member twitched as you wrapped your lips around the tip. He watched as you sank the first few inches in, wetting it to make it easier to take in more. He was being a good boy other than his mild complaining.

Your head drew back, he whined, and he hated it. The control you had over him had nothing to do with witchcraft or warp magics. It was all his biology, and all the psycho conditioning seemed so very far away when you dipped back down taking even more of him into your maw.

Throne save him, his legs twitched as your hand cupped his sack, giving it a light almost loving squeeze, he needed you to finish this. Because every moment he spent under your gentle touch was an eternity of agony. Sweet, sweet agony.

"Why must you torture me so?" He gasped, your tongue laved up the bottom of his shaft forcing a moment of mental fog that he couldn't quite clear. "I do not know what you mean." You teased him. Stroking his length as you kept him from your mouth only long enough to speak. His body felt wound tighter than a high tension cable.

He was going to cum. He'd learned that much from Titus, who'd told him what the feelings were like leading to ejaculation.

He'd thought the lieutenant to be exaggerating. He had been, perhaps he hadn't even been giving you enough credit.

"I'm close, throne just a bit more." He groaned, all thoughts of prior complaints gone.

But then you stopped. Why!? Why did you stop, blood of the Emperor he felt so good and you just stopped.

"Why?" He whined as you crawled into his lap. Your bare thighs closing around his member as you sit there, cozy and soft. He could feel the heat of your core this close, his mind was in a tailspin. Maybe you would finish him off this way. His hands grabbed at your hip and thigh as you began to rub on his cock. There was a bit too much friction, so you grabbed the oil you'd set aside and poured some down his cock, and between your thighs. Making the movements smooth and easy. Gadriel's orgasm slipped away from him as you sat there, just oiling your thighs.

He wouldn't beg. He told himself over and over that he wouldn't beg. Not for this, not for you. But his cock leaked, oozing his excitement over your skin as he tried to take deep breaths.

"You're being a very good boy for me Gadriel." You cooed and he felt the cracks in the dam beginning to form.

You finally began again, rubbing his cock with your thighs. His head dropped to your shoulder, his breaths coming in ragged pants. He needed you so badly. More than he knew how to articulate in words or thoughts. It was a burning hunger, he watched as your cunt pressed to his cock, warming the skin and wetting it further.

Inside, he thought, he needed to be inside there. Inside you. Your mouth was good, but what sensations might be awaiting him there.

"I need you. Please. I need more." He moaned into your hair and he pulled you closer. You smelled like soap, clean things that had nothing to do with this. But he found it only made him want to do this more. To make your clean soap scent vanish under the scent of sweat and whatever that other delectable scent that hung about you was.

Was it your heat? The warmth and wetness rubbing against his cock? He needed to know.

"Well we still have time. I think we could do a bit more."

You lifted your hips, with Gadriel's aid, lining up his cock with your entrance and sliding back down on him.

"Now, why don't we take a moment so I can get adjusted." You moaned, astartes cock was bigger than normal and it took time for you to adjust no matter the number of times you did it with Titus.

Gadriel almost whimpered. No, he didn't want to wait. He wanted to fuck you. The way he'd caught glimpses of other men doing with their women in dark corners of the ship where they didn't see him watching.

You reached for something else. A book. No, not just a book, the codex.

You opened it and thumped through the pages. "I do believe you said that you would make me listen to you read this at some point so I could understand what it was to be an astartes." Your eyes gleaned up at him, mischief glittered there and his cheeks reddened further.

"You want me to read you the codex.. now? Of all-,"he choked as you clenched around his length and wiggled, "-times?" He finished, swallowing down another whimper.

"I don't see why not. Two birds with one stone and all that." You teased.

Gadriel plucked the codex and nodded. It would help him regain his focus. At least he hoped.

He opened it to the beginning passage and began.

"They shall be pure of heart and strong of body, untainted by doubt and unsullied by self-aggrandisement. They will be bright stars on the firmament of battle, Angels of Death whose shining wings bring swift annihilation to the enemies of Man. So it shall be for a thousand times for a thousand years, unto the very end of eternity and the extinction of mortal flesh."

You hummed and nodded along. As he reached the final phrase you raised your hips and dropped back down. Gadriel nearly down his codex as you did, a sharp gasp leaving his lips.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a wonderful voice for reading aloud?" You smiled up at him. He shot you a half-hearted glare and went on.

His voice was sweet as he read on and it made you hotter for some reason. Maybe it was that he was reading the book his chapter held most sacred. But as he outlined battle tatics and strategies. You found his voice quivered more. Your occasional little squeezes drawing his attention away from words and back onto you.

It was almost ten minutes before Gadriel could take it no more. He closed the book and set it aside. His hands took hold of either side of your hips and he lifted you up before dragging you back down. "I think you've had enough time to adjust." He hissed in your ear and lifted you again.

You both moaned as he dragged you back down his length. You leaned into him, chest to chest, your lips peppered kisses along his jaw. You joined his efforts to guide you along his cock, until he was just holding you and you were riding him in earnest. "Oh throne, yes, don't stop." He panted, begging you as he feared you might stop again before he could cum. He didn't want that. He wanted you to make him cum, and he wanted to do it inside you. Even if his body wasn't designed for reproduction the thought of planting his seed deep within was an intoxicating one. It just felt like the right place to put it.

His orgasm built faster than he wanted but he could feel you tightening as well. Your own moans floating around him like a strain of music.

"Fuck, Gadriel, I'm close." You gasped, his arms tightened around you. He was giving his first to you, and he would not come before he found you satisfied. Mentally he urged himself not to come, to hold out, that he could do it. Perhaps he'd even give you two before he had even one.

It was a noble ideal but as soon as you clenched around him, back bowed slightly as you cried out for him it all fell apart. He buried his face in the side of your neck and let out a deep groan of satisfaction. His cock twitched with each fat load he pumped into you. His arms trembled as he nearly squashed you into his chest.

He felt you cup his cheek one handed and raised his head to meet your hazy unfocused gaze with his. Your lips crashed against his and he met the gesture of affection eagerly. That was a first as well, but it felt like the right thing to do, so he kept you in his arms, lips pressed as he finished cumming, just letting you stay there on his cock, full of his seed.

You fell asleep like that, happy and content. He picked up the codex again and opened it to where he'd left off, reading aloud to you, even though you couldn't hear it.

He would owe Titus his thanks when he saw him again.

[heretical-cogitations]

Gadriel x gn!reader

Word count: ~1200

Not really been a Gadriel girly, but it looks like my own thoughts are turning on me because omg I want to ruin this man.

This is so unhinged, I need to be locked up, I don’t know what is happening to me.

This entire thing is basically this:

You top him into Warhammer 50K

Warnings: You top him into Warhammer 50K, anal, cum play, dom sub dynamics, manhandling, mirror sex ( v brief), oral (f/m receiving)

Please let me know if I missed anything!!

He is a sloppy, bratty bottom who loves taking the strap or cock, the god emperor told me so it's true

Weeellll, that’s true like 70 or 80% of the time.

The other 20 – 30% of the time he is an unhinged feral dom who needs to be as close to you as possible.

You’ll be squashed under him as he moans in your ear about how perfect you are for him and how good you are to him.

He’ll never let you go, he is holding you so close, but that is for another day!

He is more than happy to top, loves seeing you crumble under him but there is something so cathartic for him, an astartes to be made into a quivering begging mess, he loves giving over the control.

Back to pile driving the pretty ultramarine into the 5th dimension.

He has no idea what he is doing, little Valorem here, is a bit of a himbo.

Smart where he needs to be but clueless everywhere else.

All that confidence he had before evaporating from his body the second you touch him. Hands roaming over his body glove.

His kisses are so stiff, but he’ll pick up what he needs to do pretty quickly, also pretty quick to start whimpering into kisses especially when you bite his lip and lightly pull his hair.

Pulls away when you do in shock, didn’t know he could make that noise.

Tease him and he blushes a deep red and gives you a very cute pout.

“Take this off.” You say tugging at the cuff of his skintight suit.

He stares blankly at you not moving, so you yank the clasp open. “Gadriel. Strip, now.”

A quick curt nod is all he gives you before he rips the thing off himself before sitting obediently on the edge of the bed.

Smiling, you strip as slowly as you can and you’re pretty sure you can see him vibrating.

Slack jawed at the sight of you without clothes.

Sitting on the floor between his muscular legs, hands running up the length of them delicately before stopping at his inner thighs pushing them further apart.

You sit up face so close to where he wants you more than anything, he can feel your breath on him

Without thinking he bucks his hips after for any form of friction.

“No, none of that.” You lightly squeeze his balls, Gadriel cries out at the feeling, muscles tensing to hold his hips in place.

“Good boy.” You say before peppering soft sweet kisses to his tip before suckling lightly. He lets out a series of pathetic whines in response, head lolling forward, pretty eyes fluttering shut.

You lean back, his eyes snapping to yours, “Keep being good and look at me.” You hum, squeezing his muscular thighs, he nods again, blush spread down to his neck.

You stare up at him through your lashes as you return your mouth to his length taking more of him this time, tongue lapping at the head and the vein running down the underside.

The second his eyes meet yours he chokes out a strangled moan, thighs tensing, hot cum splashing against your tongue an throat, you pull off in shock the rest of his load landing on your face and chest.

“I- I’m sorry” he pants out lying back on the bed arm slung over his face.

He is so ashamed, that was far too quick. Wants the bed to swallow him up but you don’t let him stay like that.

Climbing on top of him you pull at the arm covering his face. “You did a good job, don’t apologise.”

Using his fingers to scoop up the cum covering your skin before popping them into your mouth and sucking. He moans again, cock twitching.

He returns the favour with the most enthusiastic messy oral you had ever had, and once he catches onto what causes you breath to hitch and it’s not long until you are a shaking mess cumming in his mouth.

Once his initial shyness passes, he is a desperate slut.

At his happiest when he is bent over and stuffed full.

It doesn’t take much to get him begging to get his back blown the fuck out – sometimes the way you look at him is enough to have him pulling you to the side, grinding against you begging you to help him ‘train’.

Loves being folded into a mating press, don’t worry he’ll hold his legs, he’ll do anything for you, just getting to watch you fuck him is euphoric, hates that he cries because your image becomes unfocused and blurry but loves how you coo to him kissing and wiping his fucked-out tears away.

Your go to though is doggy, it’s just easier, and ever since Chairon told you about how great mirrors can be during sex (I WILL BE TALKING ABOUT THIS AND THEIR ‘BETS’) it’s even better, he can watch you again but can also see how debauched he looks, it gets him off even quicker.

There is just something about seeing a man so muscular face down with his pretty sculpted arse in the air.

His broad shoulders tapering into a tiny waist Aughhhhhhh perfection. He knows he looks good but to know you feel that way as well has his cock swelling in anticipation, holding himself open, waiting for you, head turned to the side teary eyes pleading with you and begging you to fuck him.

Once you do, he is a mess, he’s so loud it’s embarrassing, he knows his battle brothers can hear him squealing about how: “It feels so good! Oh, throne! It feels so good I’m so so close, please, I’ve been a  good boy, please, let me cum!!” He sounds like an actor from those under the table holo-vids.

He loves being fucked hard, fast and rough – scratch him, bite him, rag his hair, put your fingers in his ports and he is fucking himself back onto you screaming your name, demanding more.

Throws a tantrum when you pull out. Holding himself up on his wobbly arms, turning to look at you, face blotchy and wet from spit and tears.  He opens his mouth to complain but you cut him off. “Did you forget your manners, Valorem?” Mouth hanging open he weighs up how far being a brat with get him now, deciding to fold instantly and apologises to you.

Almost loves having his brains fucked out more than the imperium.

He cums so much, he almost thinks it’s a waste being spilt onto the surface below him, but the orgasms he has when you’re deep inside him are otherworldly, he’s addicted.

Loves when you hold him close when you finger him - starts babbling head tucked into your shoulder as you milk his prostate

ULTRAMARINE BUTTPLUG ULTRAMARINE BUTT PLUG ULTRAMARINE BUTTPLUG ULTRAMARINE BUTTPLUG ULTRAMARINE BUTTPLUG ULTRAMARINE BUTTPLUG (got it as a gift off the chapter master, and he is unsure if Calgar knows it is being used on him or not…)

I think I was possessed writing this dear lord I didn’t even get onto him slobbing on your strap / dick damn.

[deleteddewewted]

Is it cool to request headcanons for squad damocles getting pegged by their s/o?

Pegging Headcanons (Combat Squad Damocles)

Character x Gn! Reader

MDNI

W: Afab reader but can be read as amab, Pegging, Sub! Characters, Dom! Reader, Doggy, Missionary, Edging, Brat Taming, Creampie, Body Worship

Demetrian Titus

He didn't know what it was at first and was a little intimidated to ask as you two had just started trying new things in your relationship.

Once you guys started getting into using toys and other items that made sex more euphoric, he eagerly agreed to try pegging.

The first time was mainly a lot of prep work. Lube was everywhere and he was panting hard with just the use of your fingers thrusting in and out of him.

Once you slipped the strap in he couldn't stop himself from letting out a breathy moan.

Legs shaking and dick twitching at just how full he felt from the dildo alone, he let his upper body slump forward to lay flat on the bed.

He is very much a missionary type of guy but he enjoys other positions too.

He likes any position where he can see your face but where he can also obstruct his face. He's always arching his back and moaning into his arm as he doesn't want anyone to be able to hear him while committing such a sinful act.

He has never felt so vulnerable and powerless before and yet he cant say he wouldn't want to be put in this position again if it's you administering such pleasure to him.

Kisses your wrists a lot. If he has access to it he’ll kiss any part of your body closest to his face when your fucking him.

Aftercare with him is usually a lot of cuddling, a lot of reassuring words, him being quiet for a while so he can get out of sub space.

Chairon

He’s also someone who contemplative over trying pegging.

It had to start small for him to get into it so a lot of body worship and kissing was needed so he’d relax.

Also a big lover of seeing your face but he also very much enjoys bareback. Something about hitting down into the pillow or sheets was just more exciting to him.

Knowing you were behind him, hips thrusting into him as he tried to remained composed and his eyes rolled into the backing his head drove him to nearly cunning after the first minute.

Makes the prettiest sounds you could think of. Not high pitch moans but whimpers and short gasps as you fuck him. Run your nails down his back while you’re plowing him and he’s moaning loud enough that even the people in the mess hall can hear him.

Has a minor oral fixation. Something about sucking on your fingers or you pressing a finger down on his tongue makes him blush.

Likes to tell you verbally that he enjoys it. Makes it a habit to even push himself back against you so that you can see that he wants more from you.

Great aftercare. He’s a little teary eyed and his face is warm but he’s happy. He smiles at you and doesn’t ask you to pull out. Instead he asks if he could return the favor by slowly fucking you.

Cums inside you before pulling out himself. He just holds you and kisses your head before enveloping you in his arms.

Gadriel

He’s a bit of a brat and it makes the entire thing more exciting.

Fighting for dominance knowing film well that the moment you shove the dildos tip onto his mouth he’ll start sucking like his life depended on it.

Likes it when you mess with him by prodding at his ports and taunting him about his weakness in the moment.

He usually preps himself, having already had some experience prior to being with you but not all that much.

Biting, and kissing, these things are not mutually exclusive when it comes to him. He wants to be marked and he wants to mark you back.

He desires to be able to show that he is yours and you're his. The codex and his Primarch can forgive him for his transgressions later.

Moans loudly, uncaring if anyone can hear him or yourself. Pleasure is what he wants in the moment as he rarely gets time to himself.

You need to pull on his hair. Do it! He loves it when you pull on his hair and tell him to be quiet. Takes it as a challenge.

Aftercare with him is a little different. He’s not against cuddling or even just holding each other but he’s very hot, runs hotter than most and he needs some time to just cool down before turning to you and seeking comfort.

A big water drinker too so make sure to have 3 bottles close by so he can drink.

[yanagikou]

@justanothermemestrider OC Ellicent (Ellie) and Gadriel (when he wasn't an Astartes yet), who grew on me so much throughout their beautiful romantic journey, i simply had to draw them.

If you want to find out more about them (and you want to, trust me), please give her fic a read. You won't regret it, promise!!!

[soka-starxi]

Savagery

Part 4

Titus x afab! medic serf, Gadriel x afab! medic serf

Warnings: 18+ MDNI

A/N: minor mentions of injury, gad having a heretical time

Part 3 here

* 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　　 ✦ .

They were due any moment now

Fiddling with the sleeves of your robe, you tried to comfort yourself as you ran the fabric between your fingers

Usually when the marines return from battle, much of the anger, irritation and possible discomfort still lingers on

Unfortunately making your job even harder which you didn’t need as you were already exhausted from tidying your lords quarters

Which was also partly due to your fidgety hands

Gods I hope he likes it, what if he thinks I intruded? Was it too much? What if-

“Medicae”

The rumble in the Astartes voice made it clear it was your lord Titus, causing you to whip your head around

“My lord”

Bowing, you awaited for him to be seated

“I will be seen to first”

You knew this, confusion briefly washing over you at the routine you’ve done many times already, unsure as to why Titus has to be obvious about it

“Of corse my lord”

You didn’t even notice the slight huff from where Chiron and Gadriel were standing

Your lord didn’t even give you his gaze

Instead, it was fixated on Gadriel

A sly grin painted on his face as he turned back to you

“Help me, my serf”

Tense was an understatement as your lord removed his armour, giving you access to the nasty wound trailing up his arm

Embarrassingly, you had to stand on your tip toes to reach the top of his wound to clean the area

The click of a tongue did not help the already delicate task of removing the shrapnel embedded in his skin

You paused for a moment as you placed your feet firmly on the floor, rolling your shoulder before returning to tend to your lord

Before you could do so, Gadriel called out

“Do you need help, serf?”

You froze

“Gadriel, I highly recommend you turn that insolence into something useful. Get me a crate for my serf to stand on. Now.”

Your lord practically snarled his words towards the younger Astartes

“That’s what you get for being smart..”Chairon mumbled as Gadriel stalked off

Only to come back a few moments later, abruptly dropping the crate just inches away from your foot

Feeling inclined to thank him as you were inferior to him, you failed to do so as you watched your lord practically bare his teeth at the sergeant

You slowed your breathing as the last of the shrapnel was pulled out, now stitching him up and gently bandaging his arm

You couldn’t help but notice how he sighed as your delicate fingers graced over his scarred skin

He had never known such tentativeness, he didn’t even think something like this could exist

“All done, my lord. Do you require any further assistance”

His features softened as he watched you step off the crate

Strangely enough, you couldn’t stop looking at him

Your lord seemed to submit himself into the trance too

And when he pulled his gaze away, it hurt

“No, you may proceed”

You nodded, clasping your aching hands together “as you wish, my lord”

Expecting him to leave to return back to his quarters or wherever the chapter master commanded him to go

You were surprised to see him stay, shooting him a curious look he tilted his head silently ordering you to continue your work

You were now up against Gadriel

Oh great…

You prayed the tremor in your hand wasn’t noticeable as you disinfected the area

When turning your head to face him your heart dropped

His injury was across his neck

Bracing yourself for the close proximity, you propped yourself up on the crate for a closer examination

Hesitation seemed to falter you slightly. It felt almost wrong to touch him, especially with your lords intense focus on you

The Astartes did not welcome cooperation, only offering you a brief glance and a cocky look upon his face

“Sergeant, I require you to please move your neck so I can access the area to treat you”

Titus tensed behind you, not even having to look at him to know his demeanour shifting

Gadriel only ever so slightly decided to move his neck causing you to sigh at his games

Until you realised his intent…

He was doing this on purpose

He wanted to feel your hands on your skin

He wanted to desperately know how Titus felt under your gentle touch

So you delicately pushed his neck to the side, noting how almost feverishly hot his skin was against yours

You began to asses the deep laceration, not even realising you were holding your breath

Focus, he’s just being a tease

Trying to make the message stick into your head was no use, you shakily exhaled knowing this was only a mild level of the sergeants taunting

Worryingly so, his pulse quickened as your fingertips danced across his sensitive skin as you applied the wound cleanse

The cooling sensation of the gel was almost too much for the young sergeant

What made it worse was that your sweet scent mixed in with your sweat and the pain/pleasure mix overstimulated all of his enhanced senses

Any clever words were now long forgotten

His stoicism was reduced to a mess of submission as he let out low groan

And this surely intrigued you

His honey coloured eyes unfocused behind his fluttering eyelashes, his dampened lips agape

A surge of confidence flowed through your veins, this new position of power igniting something that you thought you had lost

You knew what you were about to do was dangerous, but nothing felt better than the taste of vengeance (as much as a serf could obtain)

Leaning down dangerously close to him, Gadriel ls teeth clenched as your breath fanned against his electrified skin as you whispered

“That’s all it takes, huh?”

Gadriels eyes shot open, completely taken aback at the venom in your unprecedented words

He was completely helpless, he couldn’t even form a snarky comment to take the edge off, lord Titus’ intense gaze made it even more impossible

Beginning to start stitching process, you felt him writhe underneath you

Soothing him, your delicate fingertips danced over his electrified skin

Causing the sergeant to tilt his head back, his eyes closing softly as his breath hitched in his throat, a whine escaped his lips

You were amazed at such a sweet song coming from the strong Astartes

Embarrassment washed over him, but the foreign feeling was too good to suppress as his entire body betrayed him

This whole thing horrifyingly wasn’t an act

“Almost finished Seargant Gadriel”

Oh Throne…

The sound of his name falling from your lips earned another deep groan

He wanted to hear it again

As you finished up, he was left slightly panting, his cheeks flushed a light rose, his lips still agape

And what a sight that was, you thought sighing to yourself

“All finished, do you require further assistance, sergeant?”

Disappointment brought him back into the room, not wanting her to drop his name

“I’m fine serf…for now”

The last of the sentence he fixated his gaze back to you, as if you were prey

And he was gone

You breathed a sigh of relief as it was just your lord and Chairon

He was much more patient than his other brothers, and as he sat beside you his expression was almost peaceful

No taunting gaze or sly grins just..general content

This time, the injury was on the shoulder and luckily only needed a few stitches

As you began cleaning the wound he spoke

“Apologies for his behaviour, you know how he is”

It was more of a mumble, his gaze adverted

“It’s- sigh- no problem Sir”

Your lord Titus didn’t take the same off handed approach

“It’s a problem to me”

Titus’ posture was much more slacked, his jaw loosened. It was a strange sight as you were used to his unwavering, grimacing stance

You stilled at his words, unsure as to why your lord cares so much

“Lieutenant, perhaps you should speak with him”

Titus scoffed “you know how that goes”

Throne, even lord Titus does not have full jurisdiction over the sergeants games

Thoughts made your head spin, you wished sleep upon you soon to escape such chaos you’ve endured

“All done lord Chairon”

Standing up, he ran his hand over the scar

“Feeling better already, thank you serf”

Bowing you head to him, he smiled as he walked away

[zackprincebooks]

(•ε•)❤ Friday Kiss Tag! (•ε•)❤

Good morning! This weekend is our holiday open house at work, so I'll be working the whole weekend. I wanted to post this in the morning before I get too busy.

Rules: From your Story/WIP, share a kiss. It can be any kiss, from familial pecks on the cheek, forehead kisses, platonic smooches, to full-blown makeouts.

And if you don’t have a kiss, no worries! You can still participate by treating this post as a writing share! (｡♥‿♥｡)

Rules: Share a snippet of your writing!

Here's a snippet from Feast Day! We're almost done, and it should be posted this weekend if I have the time:

You meet again for another kiss; gentler this time. Gadriel's jaw rubs yours and you can feel the stubble under his chin where he missed shaving in the bath. His hands slide down your body, spanning the entire length of your ribcage before dipping down to cup your ass and lift once more against the wall. He breaks the kiss and tilts down to kiss your neck before nibbling. It's almost ticklish, and you giggle for a second until he bites. “Oh, oh,” one of your legs attempts to kick out but Gadriel holds you firmly against the wall. Almost as if he's showing off, he holds you with one hand while his other unties the strings of your apron.

My tag list is below! If you want to be added or removed, please interact with this post.

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[thevoidscreams]

i feel super shy asking but its been in my head for like, days now and the worms are settling in, could i request titus and leandros competing to see who can get their shared serf pregnant first? >//w//<

Love this. I need both of these men carnally. (Chairon as well if anyone wants to put forth a request for him :3...please) Also, this isn't going to just be a fun horny romp. There's more to this one.

Warnings: Ranked Competitive sex (the opposite of casual sex), minor objectification, semi public sex, jealousy, breeding, power imbalance, voyeurism (Maybe), clearly neither one of these men has ever heard of boundaries

Word count:3795

You weren't there when your two astartes had agreed on the challenge, they hadn't discussed it with you either. In fact you feared you may not have ever known about it if Chairon hadn't come to you that very day and told you what the two had agreed to. You could only shake your head after you heard, giving him a sigh. "I'm sure I'll be okay Chai, but I appreciate the heads up." His concern had been evident but he allowed you to make the call. Assuring that if you needed help you could go to him and he would do what he could to temper his brothers. Or act as a buffer to them, he had things that required the aid of a serf as well. Chairon had never been sexual towards you, never even expressed that kind of interest so you knew that being around him would provide some solace from what was likely to be a lot of sex. Oh if only you'd known then.

That first week after had been no more eventful than it ever was, you stole moments with both Titus and Gadriel, kissing and touching like you usually did. The problems began to arise when Gadriel had walked in on you and Titus about to proceed with some more involved affection, to put it lightly. The two had gotten into a bit of a verbal kerfuffle. Eventually Titus pulled rank on the younger astartes and had him go away. You'd spent the rest of that evening stuffed full of the lieutenant. His soft words felt more like a weighted blanket as he expressed his desires for you. Rutting into you until his balls were fully drained and he slept soundly with your smaller form wrapped up in his arms.

The morning after you were taken by Gadriel to 'help' him with menial tasks. Which you quickly understood was just his attempt to keep you for himself so he could bend you over frequently and have his way with you in dark corners around the ship. One of which was just a dim alcove that was barely deep enough for the both of you. And despite your concerns and protests he took you anyway.

"Gadriel, it's too open, someone will see." You gasped as he sheathed his cock into your warmth for the third time that day. "No one will come to check, not if you are quiet." He growled as he placed his hand over your mouth, your front pressed to the wall as he held you aloft to better spear you on his cock.

Over all it wasn't that you minded the sex, you loved the attention. But at some point it stopped being about the affection in the act. It became about being the one that had you. Like two brothers fighting over a favorite toy. They would bicker that the other had had you an unfair number of times, unbalancing the scales. They would then correct that with the others there to see and watch.

If you weren't in the hands of one, you were in the hands of the other.

You needed them to stop, to give you time to recuperate. But it never lasted long. And you were their shared serf. So even when you got time away, if they called for you, you were fetched to serve them.

It was after a particularly rough day that you'd gone to seek out Chairon for his offer.

You started out with Titus, then Gadriel got a hold of you and he could smell Titus on you. He'd laid you out over his cot and licked away the scent of his superior on your skin before replacing it with his own. The coupling had been quick but rough as Gadriel growled something incoherent about not letting him have the satisfaction.

You left his chambers and were called away to Titus again. And while the older astartes was more gentle in his methods usually, he'd asked about what Gadriel had done and you were honest. Titus took exception to that, rutting you into the bed to replace Gadriel's cum with his own fresh seed.

That cycle continued two more times each. By the end of the day you decided not to spend the night with either despite them requesting it. You went back to your own room, locked your door and passed out.

The morning after you were sore again. The water from your shower helped a minor amount but it wasn't enough to reach the ache deep within.You were meant to go to Titus after his mandatory training for the day. But you were just so tired.

Dressing in your robes you slunk from your quarters. It was a left turn to go towards Titus or Gadriel’s chambers. But instead you headed right.

Chairon's room wasn't very large or fancy, you'd been there before with Titus. Right now, you had no reason to be here, except that. You needed it. Chairon had been good to you, and he seemed to understand that what they had in mind for you would be more than what most people could handle. You requested to enter, hoping you'd caught him at a good time. "Enter." His firm voice came from the other side of the door. You did, carrying the stack of linens that you had used as cover to come to him. Chairon was out of his armor, garbed only in a robe. "Ah it is good to see you, I was worried when you made the resolution to stand on your own in this matter." You nodded and stepped forward, a hiss of discomfort breathed from between clenched teeth was his answer. He took the linens from your arms, laying them next to the copy of the codex that he'd been reading when you came in. He led you to his simple cot and you sat. The tweaks in your back had been getting worse as of late. But you could not go to the medicae for this matter, it was beyond taboo, the sort of relationship you had with Titus and Gadriel. It would have to be approved by the chapter master and chaplins, which they had not done yet given Titus’s past. "Are you well?" "Sore, my body has been used thoroughly these past weeks, my lord." Chairon growled and returned to his seat as he looked over your body. "You are a personal serf, if you are not attending duties it will be noticed." "I am aware, it is why I have not been able to rest as my body has required." "Have they hurt you?" "Not intentionally, no, but-" "Then they have, intentional or not, they have caused you harm." You stayed quiet for a long time, it hurt to admit. That your body was in pain due in part to two men who you loved and cared for deeply.

"Have you told them?" Chairon's voice was soft, he reached out to hold your hand in a gesture of comfort, as his mother had done for him so many years ago, when he was a small child on Calth. You shook your head. "I do not know how to bring this issue to their attention. When I try it feels so very wrong to do so. I was told that it is not my place to question the motive or demands of an astartes when I was first brought in to serve." "You must tell them, my brothers may be prideful and competitive, but they are not heartless, I know that hearing this from you would set them right."

Chairon, though you were not his serf, had taken a shine to you. It was why he'd been so keen to ensure you knew what his brothers had planned. And why his chest burned with anger now, looking you over. Bruises, new and old littered your skin as he checked to see if anything was permanent.

Nothing was from what he could tell, and he did not feel any breaks or fractures as he moved his hands over your bones, feeling them one by one.

"When was the last time you bled?" He asked quietly. You were taken by the question. How long has it been? Three weeks? You'd be due again soon. Or perhaps you wouldn't. Who knew? "I'll be due to bleed again soon." You told him. "We will see then, if my hard headed brothers have done as they set out to do." You nodded. "Do you think they truly care for me?" The question hurt to ask, but you didn't always understand how the minds of these trans-human titans worked. "If they did not care for you, they would not fight over your time and love so ferociously. But that does not also mean that they have not taken it to an unfair or unacceptable level." He assured you. Chairon knelt before you with a small cloth and patted your cheek, you took it to dry tears that had begun to fall without notice.

"You must tell them. But for today, I find I need the assistance of a serf." He smiled at you, genuine and kind. You reached out to hug him, he returned the gesture. "I will make certain that you have this day, at the very least, to rest." "Thank you." You smiled. He led you from his chamber and out into the wider ship, making sure you were not prevailed upon by any persons who were not himself or you.

By lunch you began to feel guilty even if physically you'd begun to feel better. Twice you had been summoned to your lords and twice you had ignored the call. Chairon stepped in when others came asking why you were not with Titus or Gadriel as you were recognizably their serf. "She has come to aid me today." His voice quelled any doubts. As no other baseline would dare question him, an ultramarine. The workload had been light, mostly sitting when he attended his own duties.

You followed him around till meal times where you'd depart and go to eat as he did. He'd found you after lunch and then after supper. "Are you feeling better?" "Physically, yes. I'd have found myself bent over and probably fucked half a dozen times by now if I hadn't spent the day with you."

Chairon sighed and shook his head. It was nearing the end of the day cycle and Chairon would have his five hours of mandatory rest time soon. As would you, Serfs needed to stay well to be able to serve so you were required to rest as well. Whether that would be in your room or one of theirs tonight remained to be seen.

Titus felt his frustration building as he sent for you again, Gadriel at his side was fresh from the showers and looked at his lieutenant. "Still nothing?" His voice was laced with worry. "Not a word, not even a written message." You weren't in the room you'd been assigned, nor any other place serfs normally congregated. It was gnawing at Titus and Gadriel alike. Has something happened? Were you avoiding them? That idea hurt as much as it enraged.

Titus walked with Gadriel right behind him, his eyes scanning the halls. A serf hurried past them and Titus called after him. "You, wait there." The serf came to a halt and turned his gaze up to see both astartes before averting his gaze. "What service may I be to my lords?" Titus thought for a moment then spoke. "The serf who serves Sargent Gadriel and I. You know her?" "Aye, my lords?" The serf was confused. "Have you seen her today? She did not attend us." He looked up at the two astartes and nodded. "Of course my lords, she was to aid the lord Chairon today, was she not?" Gadriel felt his chest burn at the words. "..Yes, you may go." He dismissed the smaller man who hurried away. "Why in the name of the emperor was she with Chairon today?" Gadriel hissed to his brother. "I do not know." Titus was more level headed than his brother but still a deep anger took hold of him. "We will find out."

You had decided to return to your own room. The walk took only about ten minutes.

In the morning you would talk to the two of them, to tell them that it was all a bit too much and you needed some time to recover more fully. That you'd know all along that they had a bet between them and that it needed to stop. You loved them both so deeply, you didn't want this to spiral out of control.

You didn't get the chance to make it into your room. Two looming figures came in from the back. Before you could react, large muscular arms closed around your waist and hoisted you into the air.

Titus held you as if he was afraid you'd evaporate if he let go. Despite your wiggling and insistence that he put you down, Titus held fast until you were secure in his room.

When the door shut you heard it lock and knew that you'd be making up for lost time. You didn't want that. You wanted to sleep.

Maybe it was the aches that still pulled at your body or maybe it was the frustration of being hauled around for the past few weeks and run through like a train tunnel, but you'd just about had enough.

"Put. Me. Down!" You growled and hauled back your fist. You let it fly, catching the astartes off guard. He dropped you and you landed on your already sore ass. "Throne damn it." You growled and pulled yourself to your feet. Well no was as good a time as any you supposed. "Stop doing that!" You hollered, rubbing your sore fist. A thin trickle of blood ran down from Titus's nose and he touched a finger to it, pulling it away to see that you had in fact made him bleed. You expected anger but instead he and Gadriel just looked shocked.

"What is the cause of this madness?" Gadriel huffed, looking at you as if you were the one that had lost their mind. And perhaps you had. "You were gone from us all day despite our calls, you ignored them, and when we inquired as to your whereabouts we learned that you neglected your duties to us to serve Chairon. Why? Why did you neglect your station? Do you wish to be punished for this dereliction of duty?" Gadriel hissed. Titus hated to admit it, but he was just as angry about this as his brother, but he was also rather impressed by the force of your punch.

"What I wanted was a break from the two of you." You returned, voice hot. What you were doing was beyond stupid, you had two marines between you and a locked door. Two marines who seemed rather upset with you. But you needed to say your piece.

"A break? So you were off getting some cock from Chairon? Is that it?" Gadriel was getting more and more furious with every second. "We weren't having sex Gad! I was doing my actual duties as a serf." He either didn't hear you or he didn't believe you. "Are we not fucking you enough? You need more, is that it?" "I need less!" You screamed. Your voice ringing off the walls with its volume. It was a good thing that the walls here were several feet thick on either side.

Gadriel's teeth audibly clenched as he planned to tear into you. Titus put his hand out to calm Gadriel. "Brother, stop, let her speak."

Titus fixed you with a much more composed gaze. Though he was still raw at the fact you'd chosen to spend the day with someone other than them, even someone they were close to. "Why?" It was all he asked but you were so tired, so, so tired. "Chairon told me about your challenge. The first day you agreed on the damned thing and he told me that if it became too much he would either act as a buffer for me, or that he would speak to you on my behalf. I thought he was worried for nothing, but it turns out he had every right to be concerned. You two have run through me like a bolt, I hurt everywhere, I have new bruises everyday. And ones that haven't even fully healed since this all started. I'm so tired and I hurt. I needed a break. I needed to rest. So I went to him, he had me serve him for the day, keeping me where he could make sure I was still performing my duties but could rest at the same time." Your tears burned with unshed tears.

Titus reached out to touch your cheek softly, his hands warm and gentle the way they used to be. Before all he was worried about was out matching his brother.

"Why didn't you bring this to our attention?" The lieutenant pressed. "I tried Demetrian. Neither of you seemed to get it. When I kept telling you I needed a break or that it was too much, it seemed like the words went into one ear and then out the other. It hurt waking up this morning, getting dressed and just doing my chores." You sat on Titus's cot, tears falling again for the second time that day. You curled into a ball. "It feels like you both care more about winning this stupid bet than you do about me. Like I'm just a game piece you're using to satisfy your egos."

The anger had seemed to drain from them at your words. Titus went to one knee in front of you. He looked up at Gadriel who seemed to realize just how bad you had had it over the course of their challenge. It was sobering to the men. They took their accelerated healing for granted, forgetting that it was a privilege not all humans had.

What they had done to you was so far beyond what was acceptable to do, pushing you to the point that you felt you needed to get away from them. Titus helped you lay down on your side, pulling a sheet over your body. "I cannot undo this mistake, but I am sorry. We both must be better in the future." Gadriel joined him, his fingers caressing your hair. "I am sorry." He breathed. Tears still leaked from your eyes. "I'm sorry for punching you." You spoke through shaky breaths. Titus grinned. "You have nothing to apologize for. It was deserved." You shook your head. "No, it wasn't, I did it out of anger and frustration. I did it to make you put me down because I was worried just shouting wouldn't make you. But I still hit you." Titus nodded, understanding that you hadn't wanted to hurt him, it made him feel even lower.

"How can we correct this? How can we make this right?" "I need rest. I think that is the thing I need most. Until all of my bruises have healed at the very least. I don't want to be intimate until I am feeling back to my normal self." "We can do this for you." Gadriel spoke up. His heart hurt but he knew for you it must be worse. You fell asleep shortly after and Gadriel turned to Titus. "We are monsters." "Not monsters, Gadriel, just selfish fools."

Chairon had been expecting the knock, and he nodded as his brothers entered. "Yes brothers?" What brings you at this late hour?" Titus spoke first. "We found her on the way back to her room." Chairon's jaw tightened. "Did you take her then? Make her pay for the lost time?"

"No." Gadriel stepped in his voice firm. "But we did speak with her." "And where is the girl now?" "Sleeping, she needed the rest." Titus informed him. Chairon nodded.

"So you know that she knows?" Cahiron questioned the Lieutenant. "Yes, we do now and we came to thank you." Chairon looked puzzled, it wasn't what he expected.

Titus began to explain. "We know that you took her today to give her a chance to begin healing. But I need to thank you for being there for her. You told us that the challenge was foolish, that it was not good for her. But we did not listen. If not for you, she might not have had the chance to get that need through our thick skulls and into our brains."

"You will be abandoning this quest then? This challenge?" Chairon pressed.

"Yes, if she wishes to still have our children after this it will be on her terms." Gadriel nodded. He and Titus had spoken on the way over.

"I know you two love her. But you will have to be more mindful of her limits. She will need you to hear her when she speaks, when she tells you that it's too much. I know she loves being your serf. She has said many times she feels it is an honor beyond her deserving. And if you still want her to be more than that, there needs to be respect both ways."

The two of them nodded in agreement. "Thank you for keeping an eye on her safety while we were being too blind to do so." Titus thanked his brother who stood and embraced him. "Of course. She is a good woman."

The morning came and Titus's warm body was the first thing you felt. You turned over in his arms and cuddled into his chest. "Good morning my love." He breathed quietly as you yawned. The warmth on your back through the evening had helped considerably. "Are you both here?" You mumbled.

"Good morning." Gadriel's hand reached over Titus to pet your hair. You settled back in. "You are to be on rest this week, after speaking to the apothecaries they believe it is best you come in for a screening." Titus explained. "They will tell you if the leave will be longer." You nodded, not wanting to get up yet. "As long as I have you both my astartes to help me I'll be better in no time." You sighed as Titus wrapped you up in his arms. "We'll always be here for you." He promised, and he meant it, even if they had a lot to improve on, they would be there being better for you every step of the way. So you could have the love you deserved and two men who deserved you.

[heretical-cogitations]

Gadriel trying to be low-key about getting his back blown out by calling it 'endurance' training.

[deleteddewewted]

Happy Heart Day!

(Valentines Special)

Demetrian Titus x Gn! Reader

MDNI

W: Fluff, Chairon and Gadriel where here too, Cute

All around the battle barge were decorations that displayed hearts, flowers, and a lot of pink ribbon. Heart Day was an annual celebration that many of the baselines on the ship celebrated as well as some of the Mechanicus. From what Titus remembered of his youth, Heart Day was a day to show affection towards individuals you enjoyed the company of or fancied.

This was just another day to him and his armored brothers though. It wasn’t because they weren’t allowed to participate, Emperor knows that many of the more… people-pleasing astartes chapters did. From their cousins the Salamanders to their other cousins the Blood Angels, astartes also participated when they liked.

To Titus, this day was more amusement and entertainment for him. Even though he didn’t personally participate he still found it amusing how baselines put effort and thought into the gifts they gave each other. He couldn’t recall the last time he had celebrated, possibly a year or two before he was taken as an aspirant, but he indulged the serfs who talked about their plans even if his responses were more analytical. Apparently, this holiday allowed the serfs to get together and make a special meal to share with each other to celebrate once most of the battle barge went to sleep. Titus smiled at the thought that the diligent workers of the Imperium of Man had their own sets of customs outside of serving.

He watched serfs hand each other gifts, some even handing over flowers with cards or treats. His younger Astartes brothers snickered at the sight. Gadriel mainly narrowed his eyes at the serfs who would speak to loudly or had “garish” displays. Chairon on the other hand encouraged the serfs to speak their minds to their fellow baselines as he found it adorable. He gave a pep talk to one of them so that they confess their undying love to another serf.

“This is all a waste of time and valuable resources.” Gadriel commented, tone sour as he watched a serf hand out flowers to the tech priests as a sign of appreciation.

“You’re just sour that no one wanted to give you something. Maybe if you didn’t smell as putrid, Sergeant-“ Chairon began but was cut off by Titus.

“Knock it off you two.” Titus’ voice boomed. He scolded his younger brothers before directing them to Reclusiam. He would rather they listen to Leandro’s babbling than mock the serfs that aid them.

As his brothers left him behind, Titus made his way to his own chambers only to find a serf cleaning and replacing his burned candles.

“Thank you, little one.” He sat on his bed and watched as the serf continued their cleaning. Without missing a beat, the serf replied.

“With pleasure, my lord.” They left without saying anything else and closed his chamber door for him.

Titus began peeling off his armor, placing the pieces on the floor so he could relax momentarily. As he looked at the work of the serf he noticed a box and envelop he hadn’t noticed at first. He stood up and grabbed the box, opening it to reveal small brown hearts. There were chocolates. The box had no writing but the envelope that had been placed below it did. It was directed to him, his name written delicately and around it, little hearts scribbled on as decoration. He opened the envelope only to reveal a red card that says, ‘Happy Heart Day! Will You Be My Sweetheart?’. Below there was a heartfelt note;

‘Be it that our worlds are so different and we had our starts in different places, I still value you and adore you like no one else. Your dedication and commitment to your beliefs is admirable. Your commitment to staying true to who you are is inspiring. Thank you for filling my life with joy and for aiding in the protection of our lives. For your sacrifices and your devotion to humanity. I hope to see you again soon, Demetrian.

From yours truly,

Y/n’

He smiled at the card before carefully tucking it back into the envelope and placing it inside his codex. He took the chocolates with him. He searched for you in the battle barge, and once he found you he made sure to embrace you in a hug. His arms tightens around you once you hugged him back.

“Demetrian, what a pleasure.” You look up at him, searching for answers as for why he was being so bold with his affection.

“I received your card, Y/n.” He pressed his forehead against your own, an Astartes kiss, before he buries his face in between your neck and shoulder. He inhales your scent, hoping to commit it to memory.

“You left me a treat that I would like to share with you.” He moves away, this time allowing enough space so he can sit down. He has you sit on his lap, and with one hand on your waist he makes sure to hand you the chocolate you had gifted him.

In silence, you both enjoyed the small heart shaped treats. He enjoys the way you hum and mumble under your breath, complimenting the taste of the treats as you do. He wipes away some melted chocolate that had clung to his lips before leaning down and placing a kiss onto your head. Both of you, enjoying domestic bliss without worry.

[soka-starxi]

LISTEN UP!!!

okay so what if titus and gadriel secretly crushing on the reader and both suffering from jealousy and they try to keep it secret but it all fucks up?

If anyone wants to expand on this or whateva send me a dm <3

what if…I start writing again 👀

[soka-starxi]

Savagery 

Part 5

Titus x afab! medic surf, Gadriel x afab! medic surf

Warnings: 18+ MDNI

A/N: hey y’all! Sorry it’s been a hot minute but we back!! No warnings for this chapter just Titus actually being a chill guy ™️

Part 4 here

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Your lords presence still remained in the room even though his gaze was cast away, surprisingly distant, silent…

Wishing he would utter even a single word, you made quick work of disinfecting your tools. Trying to keep your hands desperately still

This challenge was impossible due to your bones aching beneath your weight just urging you to sit down

You knew you could trust him..maybe not fully but if he wanted you dead he would’ve done it long ago by now

Still, you wondered if this was some sick joke or a challenge you’re unaware of

Is it luck that I’ve survived this far? Or am I one step away from falling into a trap?

You would never be able to tell

Every nerve in your body told you to flee, the ancestral plea yearning for survival

But you kept standing there

Still doing the task at hand with careful precision, your quickening heartbeat giving away the remnants of fear

And he could hear it, there was no doubt about it

And as for you, him shifting off the wall was enough for your heart to threaten to bust through the confinements of your ribs

Wondering if he’s looking at you now, you realised you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want him too

You knew he could see the affect he had on you, but you hoped he understood it

That you’re not just a surf, you have thoughts, feelings, experiences. You are human just like was before his enhancements

It was a shout into the void, to the gods, to whoever was listening

So, you cast out your plea

And he was looking right into you, almost sapphire blue eyes found your own

Embarrassingly, you felt your face heat up

There was no where to look, only him. His head slightly cocked to the side seemingly searching your gaze

The slight frown on your face, the challenging look in her eyes. That was unheard of in a surf…

Perhaps that’s why she was chosen for me…

You could only do this for a while, hoping he would give in

“Serf”

Almost a whisper, you could’ve missed it

“Yes, my lord Titus?”

Using his full title made you relish in his power, contradicting your previous fears

Throne…I need some sleep

He raised his gravely voice “walk with me”

You walked in unison, again in silence. Your sluggishness failed to keep up with his steps

Letting out a slight huff, you swore he slowed his pace…or is it the lack of sleep creating hallucinations?

Thankfully, you were both out of the way from the hustle of the med bay

Your head spun with excitement and anticipation, but your nerves made your eyes widen as you realised this is the path to your lords quarters

Why is he taking me here? I at least hope he likes what I’ve done…throne help me

“How far are you with the mission report?”

Turning a tight corner, you winced at the cold air but kept up his pace

“Almost done my lord, I will be finished by tomorrow evening”

A low hum escaped his lips, watching him was he casted a armoured hand though his well-trimmed fade. His eyes fluttering close, nodding

You realised you had been staring for too long when your lord took a turn, causing you to fall out of unison

You hoped again he didn’t see, but you know your lord picks up on everything

“Good, I’d like to request further clarification regarding timing, strategies. And importantly behaviour, if the Sergeant continues to act like a-”

His last sentence was cut off as his footsteps entered his quarters, you being left at his door frame with your hands clasped tightly behind you

Watching as he gazed across his room, you saw him slow down, taking it all in

Unsure as how to interpret this, you spoke “my lord, I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude..I j-just wanted to make up for, for earlier-”

It was his turn to cut you off

“You did this?”

You were still frozen at his door, it’s coolness against your back soothing the heat corsing through your veins

“Well, yes, yes my lord”

The stacked data pads, his desk lacking a single spec of dust, the polished armour glowing in the candlelight, the fresh sheets, all wrapped up in the calming smell of incense

Everything was crafted so neatly, Titus was almost dizzy from circling his well cared for room. Something he had not experienced, at least not like this

One thing was left, a small package at the end of his bed.

As he cradled it in his hand, he turned to you, gesturing you ro come forward next to him

“What is this?”

He loomed over you, confusion scattered over his face

The unfamiliar look on your yours face turned your lips into a weak smile

“Why don’t you find out”

He chucked to himself “I didn’t know i was also getting a gift barer when you came to me”

Surprisingly delicate for a space marine, he unfolded the paper to reveal a small desert

He couldn’t quite believe what he was looking at, but the smell was unmistakable

A dessert from his homeworld sat neatly in the palm of his hands

His gaze still focused to his hands he questioned you

“You didn’t make this too..did you?”

Inching towards him, still smiling “you mentioned it a while ago, thought you might like something familiar”

His gaze did not falter, his eyes fixated with his lips tugged slightly upwards

The growing silence and stillness of your lord triggered you to spiral

Oh throne..I’ve done too much havent I?

“My lord I am sorry for the overstep I just found the recipe and thought I could try it..but”

Embarrassment silenced your ramblings until he turned to you

His soft blue eyes flickering in the candlelight “no one has ever done this for me before…I-”

Another pause

“Thank you, throne you really have gone to great lengths hmm? What other surprises do you have for me, my serf?”

There. A full grin etched across his face, the candlelight accentuating his chissled features

You savoured this moment, you’ve never achieved a good look at your lord until now

And throne..what a sight

You were so out of it you didn’t even realise your chests were almost touching

His playful tone was making it hard to think

Your gaze drifted across the bridge of his nose, noting the freckles flowing onto his cheeks

“I was still..nervous..well..I was unsure if you liked surprises my lord, you like the predictableness of control”

Lifting his brow slightly, he cocked his head and adverted his gaze to the corner of the room in slight amusement

“You keep me curious, I think I like surprises more now. You’re certainly more than I bargained for that’s for sure”

You exhaled your relief, you were safe, he didn’t dislike you, you didn’t overstep, he might even like you

As he perched at the end of his bed, you automatically began to remove his armour as he spoke

“I’ve done some digging, you have an exceptionally low mortality rate as well as a keen eye…it’s been noted”

You twisted your head in confusion, unclasping his armour

“By who my lord?”

He sighed as the armour lifted off his worn body, his eyes still casting over his quarters

“By me”

His soft tone was still something you were getting used to causing you to almost slip when removing the last piece of armour, neatly positioning it to be cleaned and monitored

Your breath stilled. Your gaze fixated to the floor you sat upon

“Thank you, my lord”

Whipping your head up to face him you were met by mountains of muscle as the lieutenant sat in only a loincloth around his waist

You couldn’t remember the last time you performed his armour removal, but this time you traced over his scars with cautious eyes

He was a sight to behold, carved from great gods, a being of high skill and perfection in every way

You followed him as he stood

“Will you remain? I’d like your imput regarding some of the reports?”

And of corse you nodded

[soka-starxi]

Savagery 

Part 3

Titus x afab! medic serf, Gadriel x afab! medic serf Warnings: 18+ MDNI

A/N: literally squad Damocles being messy for 5 minuets straight challenge (failed)

Part 2 here

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The lieutenant couldn’t quite believe it as he stormed down the corridor to reach the Thunderhawk for the next mission

Trying to think of how he would confront Gadriel occupyed his mind

He could easily fight tyranids, orks but this…

This was different. And something he never thought he’d have to deal with

Walking into the bay, the swell of activity swarmed his heightened senses

The roar of ships taking off, the thud of armoured boots hitting the ground, the sound of Gadriel’s voice piercing the air

Gadriel.

“My lord”

He announced to Titus, his arm pressed to his chest but the lieutenant did not return the sentiment back

Luckily a tucked away corner of the bay kept away prying eyes from the uneasy confrontation

Leaving the sergeant standing oblivious to what’s about to come down on him

Unease did not falter Gadriels stance but it trickled down his spine, he had never seen his lieutenant so still

“You put hands on my serf”

Before Gadriel could state his alibi his breath caught in his throat as his lieutenant stepped closer, dropping his tone

“Why”

Gadriel managed a slight smirk, not thinking Titus could be this angry about something so little

“My lord. I barely-”

“Silence”

That’s all it took for the sergeants gaze to break, unable to settle but still keeping his composure under the weight of the lords presence

“Do you think this is a game, Gadriel..”

A sharp “no sir” swiftly left his lips, a slight sense of discomfort washed over him at the lieutenants slight humorous disbelief

“If you cause further disruption you will not like what follows. Is that clear”

The two of them soon noticed they weren’t the only ones present as Chairon came into view

“Am I interrupting?”

His helmet tucked neatly under his arm as he called out, acknowledging his brothers

“No” the lieutenant replied curtly, giving Gadriel a prolonged look of resentment as they made their way to the Thunderhawk…

Finishing the last report file of the day, you found yourself with some extra time to kill

You decided to remedy your actions from earlier by ensuring his chambers were spotless before he returned

Tiptoeing into the room, the weight of estrangement hung heavy over your head

Your body screamed to run but something pulled you in

Pushing the guilt of being In his space without him to the side, dust collected on your fingertips as you traced over his desk

Every scratch every bump, the wax residue, the loose parchment

This was wrong. Indulging in your lords memories scattered over his cambers was not permitted

So you swept and dusted his floors, walls, corners and crevices until your wrists screamed at you to stop

Every candle was now lit, you didn’t even realise how many your lord had

Oranges and amber dances across the wall, almost looking like a memory as you made his bed with freshly washed sheets

A difficult task for someone so small

Taking care to ensure not a single inch was out of place, you took note of the slight dip in his bed, the smell of him still lingering

It didn’t rouse anything particularly positive in you but the familiarity created comfort which is something unknown to most serfs

Until you found yourself on your knees, scrubbing away any heretical thoughts that would betray you’re prayer

* 　　　 ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　 ˚ . * 　　　 ✦ .

The faint humming of the ships engine filled the thick air

Every now and then a faint creak could be heard as the ship got close to the surface

Chiron seemed to take notice of the lieutenants fixed stare where the ships wall met the floor

And..was that a smirk creeping into Gadriels lips?

Chiron eyed Gadriel, cocking his head towards Titus

Chiron could feel something was off as Gadriel faintly rolled his eyes

30 seconds until impact

“Weapons ready”

Titus led the way as they stepped foot on the surface. Dust and dirt swirled around their feet as the ship took off

“We’ve got ground to make before we reach the outpost, think you can behave?”

Chirons confused “yes..sir” was muffled under Gadriels sudden chirpiness

“Of corse lieutenant, why wouldn’t we?”

The smirk In his voice was barely audible, but it was here

Chiron watched as the lieutenants gloved hand tightened over his bolt pistol, lips pulling into a deeper scowl as he marched ahead

Gadriel jerked his head behind him as Chiron tugged at his arm

“Care to explain what’s going on?” Chiron hushed, quickly looking forward in case the snappish lieutenant caught them

“A brief step out of line, that’s all brother”

Chiron couldn’t help but scoff

“Don’t lie to me brother, it had to be more than that. Have you not seen the lieutenant?”

Speaking of the devil

“Get moving. Now”

The lieutenant punctuated the end of the sentence, dangerous and cold forcing the men to follow his stride

Finally, the infested outpost came to view and so did a swarm of tyranids

“Contact!”

The sentence shouted by whoever was cut short by a frenzy of screeching, gunfire and the scream of the lieutenants chainsword

It was over as soon as it started as the group made haste before the next wave

Chiron knew the lieutenant was a man of little words but this was a stretch..

“Move up, we’ve got more distance to cover from the north”

The terrain heading north was certainly more aggressive with chunks of stone and giant vegetation roots crawling along the ground

“This is fast-paced lieutenant”

Chirons voice was carefully casual, even now he hopef he hadn’t over stepped

“Can’t keep up, brother?”

Thankfully, Titus’ voice was a little more breezy

“I mean no offence sir, but wouldn’t it be safer to go round the longer way, a potential ambush if you will?”

“I’d be careful if I were you, brother”

This time, Gadriel stepped in

A bantery clap on Chirons shoulder made him lift his eyebrows in amusement

The corners of the Sargents mouth tugged upwards into a grin

Chiron braced himself for whatever trick Gadriel was about to pull which he deemed inappropriate due to the lieutenants increased hostility

Infuriatingly slowly, Gadriel almost crept towards his superior

Throne…what is he playing at

Finally, Gadriel spoke “the lieutenant clearly has other things on his mind”

Was Gadriel referring to Titus’ decision or something else?

Titus was already gone, sending Chiron back to reality and setting the confusion and apprehension aside. A task getting increasingly difficult