#yandere perturabo

[kit-williams]

Can you imagine yandere Perturabo and yandere Lion?

Yes I can! Trying my best to not let my Perty Bias get the better of me!

Yandere Perturabo might do better with a darling... might be able to stop that man from death spiraling via negative thoughts but that's a big might. Oh he's very particular about his darling (just as equally as Konrad might be now that I think about it) but the poor darling who takes a look at something he made and has that meme moment of "shut up I'm experiencing child like wonder" it then becomes priority number one to grab you. Which really shouldn't be hard... doesn't even have to get his sons to help depending on their station a simple order too but Perturabo is also mischievous (hasn't been in awhile but there are traces of his mischievous personality that he once had before he became really bitter) I can see him also just being some sort of secret admirer if he doesn't feel the need to snatch them up right away. To watch the smile blossom on their face whenever they get a gift or spying them showing it off with glee. He might start leaving hints on who the sudden admirer is... he rather you walk into the pretty little enclosure he's made verses having to throw you in... after all you wear those pretty delicately made iron bangles so nicely he'd hate to have to leash you up to make you stay.

Yandere Lion is as I have always said about him... he is a beast in the shape of a man where Russ is a man in the shape of a beast. Lion would see something or rather in this case someone who tickles something on the inside of him and he would feel that want. What people think he should have verses what he wants are very different... he doesn't want a wilting little thing under him... he wants his pretty little feline under him to also hiss and bite back as he mates... and breeds. Perhaps he figures a one and done might get it out of his system... scratch that itch verses letting it fester and become annoying. Oh but he'll find out you're like catnip and he can't keep you away... no one is telling him that he cannot bite... he cannot mark... no one but himself but those moans under him just only encourage it. Oh yes if he does go for trying you out to get the desire out of his system he will quickly find out that is rather impossible and you just have to accept your fate... Oh yes I still see this applying for both a young 30k Lion as well as a 40k Lion, who feels even less inclined to play the courtly games. But yes... don't worry too much about what's going on and where you're going let him just let you feel good and just worry about bearing him cubs.

(I really couldn't resist with the cat puns) ((I'm so sorry))

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog @thevoidscreams @barn-anon

[toto-the-cactus]

Primarchs + Daughters

My perception of how each Primarch would behave when nosediving into parenthood if they had daughters. Enjoy!

I wanna personally thank @moodymisty because a great deal of their works inspired this piece.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Lion El’jonson

The embodiment of 'tough love' made man. Having a daughter doesn’t do much to soften this guy… or at least that’s what others believe. The Dark Angels Legion are probably the only ones aware of the small gestures the Primarch often gives to his little girl in the safety that privacy offers. Where Lion lacks words of compassionate and parental love, he appropriately makes up for it with actions. He isn’t one to go over the top and prefers to give modest gifts to his daughter as the last thing the man wants is to raise a spoiled brat. Father-daughter bonding time can be summarized with strenuous training using the sword. This man will not let his precious Princess go through life without learning how to protect herself, even if he has made an oath to forever shield her too.

Fulgrim

The complete antithesis of Lion. Where this man views the Emperor as the perfection anyone should strive to reach, his beautiful daughter comes close to the second place in fulfilling that ideal. There’s a big fat chance that he teared up a little when his little gem called him Papa for the first time, but managed to wear his ever unshakable mask because he absolutely refuses to break character even in private. Has the mistaken notion that his baby is a blank canvas ready to be painted to its fullest potential; aka, molding her to what HE wants and expects of her. Fulgrim probably spoils her rotten but only through conditions that she must follow, as the Primarch understands the importance of fighting and earning for what you wish to obtain. He makes sure that any of his gene-sons are in her company as he refuses to let even a single scratch happen to his little girl. Honestly, a grown-up version of Fulgrim’s child has the chances to go both opposites of the spectrum with no in betweens: A shy aristocratic lady who is unable to speak her own mind or a completely haughty, sharp and manipulative noble woman. Too much to unpack there, yo.

Perturabo

(Slaps this bastard's head loudly) This bad boy can fit so much family trauma in it! Okay no but seriously, there’s a good reason why so many people agree that this bitch has a thing for gilded cages and all the fucked up poetry that comes with it. The good ol’ classic Greek tragedy of Medea. Perturabo may have big and insane expectations for his gene-sons but when it comes to having a daughter? The apple of his eyes. The sunshine of his life. For this Primarch, his little princess is the only living thing in the entire universe that loves him genuinely and unconditionally, making his love the equivalent of a child crushing a bird between his hands. While still easy to anger and with a resting-bitch face, he is incredibly tame and careful with his girl; always making sure that she is well versed in all kinds of science and engineering that could easily label her as a genius (but we all know how stressful can be to try and live up to big expectations). Most of his Legion finds the child either an annoyance or don’t even care enough beyond the factual point of her being the child of their mighty Primarch, beyond that? This poor girl is probably the loneliest child to ever grace the world. Remember that I referred to this like the Tragedy of Medea? Yeah…

Jaghatai Khan

Probably one of the few best papa-tier out there. This man will see his little daughter and think the only thing a good parent should do: To love and guide. He’ll be not afraid to say “I love you” to his baby girl no matter where they are, but he’ll know when to be stern and wise so she grows to be a fine and humble woman. Honestly, this guy would learn how to make a sling just for the single purpose of having his precious princess close while also being excited to teach her how to ride on a horse like he did in his childhood. The thing that makes this dude the best in this list is that if his daughter ever expresses to follow a different path in life like becoming a remembrancer or anything that doesn’t involve the Imperium, this Chad of a man will look deep into her eyes and tell her that he’ll support her no matter what. The only thing he asks is that she stays in contact as he’ll miss her terribly. Kudos to him, fr.

Leman Russ

Another one for the ‘tough love’ guys list, yo! On his defense! Hear me out… in his defense, this guy was literally raised first by Fenrisian wolves before even knowing what a proper bath entailed, so of course he’ll sometimes be a bit too much on his poor little baby girl. Roughhousing was his best first approach to teach her how to fight, trying to make his little pup have some proper backbone worthy of being called the child of a Primarch. Sometimes he’ll get carried away (either with words or actions) and is in those moments when Leman would learn what genuine and heavy guilt feels like; a very alien emotion for someone as brutal and fierce as he is. There’s no worse feeling than knowing that you are the reason behind your daughter’s tears. No one would ever say it out loud, but the way this giant of a man apologizes is by slowly and silently hugging his little girl while pouting until she hugs him back. He may suck at expressing verbally his love towards his baby, but actions are his best way to communicate and this is something his daughter eventually learns and accepts from him. Forgot to add that the entire Space Wolves Legion are not only suffocatingly protective of their Primarch’s child, but everyone takes turns when she asks them for piggy-rides or let her braid their hair.

Rogal Dorn

I don’t wanna be too mean to this poor man but lord have some mercy, trying to squeeze any emotion that doesn’t range to watching paint dry from this damn guy is already a miracle on its own. He’s probably the kind of dude that’ll leave his poor daughter in the care of his astartes and serfs while he works. Workaholic in bold, yo. It literally will take watching his poor little princess cry her eyes out for him to attempt some bonding time but man he just sucks at trying not to have a stick up his ass (Again, I’m not trying to be mean but god this is painful). This is the kind of man, besides Guilliman, that will search high and low for some paternity books to help him. At the end this father-daughter relationship can be salvageable by having a heart to heart between them both and even then, is the poor girl the one that gives more than she receives. Honestly, any daughter from Dorn has the patience of a saint. Besides this Primarch's ineptitude to properly communicate his feelings, everything else doesn’t change the fact that he loves his little princess and will do anything to make her as happy as possible so he gets some brownie points for the try.

I'll later write the second and third part of this, I swear <333

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The desire to possess (Part 3)

Summary: You realize that you are locked in the claws of a monster and pray that your beloved will save you. But will he come?

Perturabo/fem!Reader, Rogal Dorn/fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, yandere, possesive behavior, obsession, kidnapping, dubcon, branding

Word count: 3009

Song: Rammstein - Amour

I had inspiration as you can see.

You have always loved creating small sculptures, carving tiny scenes on marble. Because it was beautiful and elegant. To fit entire worlds and plots in such a tiny space. Yes, you were a small grain of sand in a huge ocean. Insignificant. And yet your sculptures have won the hearts of many people. Including the master who proudly showed your work to the primarchs.

They liked it. The primarchs themselves liked your creations! It has to say that you didn’t like war and prefer to study outposts and structures from books. You were not eager to get involved in the Crusade. But when you saw Perturabo, your feet carried you to him. He was your hero, your idol. While still a student, you wondered whether it was worth it for you to continue working as a sculptor. Will you find your place in this Galaxy?

But when you saw the images of the Iron Lord's structures, you were amazed. And inspired. As then in the Palace, albeit with fear, but still sincerely telling Perturabo about your hope to capture his campaign. A tiny hope of stepping onto the Iron Blood glimmered within you.

But destiny gave you another path. You had to work under Dorn on the Phalanx. Rival of Perturabo in siege and architecture. Life can be unpredictable.

As are your feelings for the primarch. Surprisingly, you did not feel the same awe of him as other mortals. He was your lord, an incredibly tall, strong and influential man. But you didn’t want to cry when you saw his demigod shade.

Quite the contrary. While creating a bust in Rogal's image, you couldn't help but notice his humanity. And when you started talking, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him. He was kind. He fought and killed and subjugated systems. And yet Dorn was against genocide and always wanted to bring the world to harmony. And always leaving behind buildings - a symbol of a new future. And you wanted to share it with him.

***

“I have feelings for you. It’s been quite some time now and I intend to connect my life with you.” - the primarch with a stoic face looks into your eyes, almost without blinking. - “This is a serious proposal and I ask you to treat it accordingly.”

To be honest, it was a little scary. How you were unexpectedly called into the primarch’s chambers and you saw a man dressed in golden armor. His eyes did not glow with rage, but the determination in them was visible from afar. For a second you thought you were going to be executed.

You are silent, not knowing what to say until you notice one detail. Rogal also didn't say a word after his speech. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, his posture doesn’t change, patiently waiting for your answer. Answer. He didn’t intimidate, he didn’t confront you with your new role. He confessed his feelings and hoped that you would answer them...

Surprisingly, you feel... calm. You don’t tremble or cry with emotion, you don’t burst into laughter, but you smile softly. The Primarch blinks in surprise before his face takes on a peaceful expression. The answer is clear without words.

Rogal kneels and you approach him. Your hands touch. His are gigantic and clad in golden armor. And yours are small and covered with dust from work. Your first kiss did not happen soon, as did your first intimacy and conversations about the future.

Everything was truly innocent and beautiful that day.

***

It was a moment of true happiness. It seems like it's been so long since this happened. And now you are sitting in the corner of the room (judging by the details and drawings, this is a workshop) and trembling with fear of the unknown. These were not the chambers of the Praetorian, but the chambers of a primarch, whom you so desperately wanted to serve to in the distant past.

“My brother is cruel and merciless. He looks more like a war machine than a man.”

You remember how Rogal admitted to you that his rivalry with Perturabo was personal, almost childish. They were similar in some ways, but still different. The primarch did not try to turn you against his brother. And yet you were afraid of Perturabo when you met him at one of the events. The anger with which he looked at Rogal. And the worst thing was the contempt with which he looked at you... it was then that you realized how lucky you were to receive his refusal to become a remembrancer of the Iron Blood.

But the worst thing happened after Horus' betrayal. Then you learned the details about the burning of Olympia and other planets. How the Iron Warriors committed genocide, and the survivors were taken into slavery. This was not the hero you read about with such enthusiasm. He was a monster.

And now you were in his clutches. Despite all the protection of Dorn, Perturabo still captured you. The Iron Lord wanted so badly to humiliate his brother. Destroying Greystone won't be enough for him, no. Surely he will think about building his own masterpiece. And at this hour you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to you.

You will probably be tortured. Maybe he'll display your corpse at the main gate as a trophy, a sign for the Praetorian. Or he will turn you into a servitor or a diabolical machine. It was not for nothing that the primarch left you alive.

The iron door opens with a creak and you can’t help but turn towards the sound. Perturabo, as if nothing had happened, goes inside and locks the door. He wears no armor, only Olympic-style clothing. The man twists his neck until it cracks before turning to look at you. You just look at him like a hunted animal. Even when he approaches you, leaving very little space between you.

“I see you better now. You pretty much ruined my plans with your hysterics. But I shouldn’t demand too much from a fragile mortal girl.” - the man firmly pronounces each word, clenching his fists. You can’t understand whether he’s angry with you, or just talking condescendingly. - “Get up.”

You barely obey. You get up on weak legs and hug yourself by the shoulders. His presence is terrifying. And at the same time, you feel that he doesn’t want to hurt you. But this is just ridiculous, he is a primarch, a traitor, and you are a mortal, a remembrancer of Dorn, you are nothing to him.

“I want you to repeat it.”

"What?" - you look at him in confusion.

“Repeat what you told me back in the Palace. Why do you want to serve me? I want to hear it again.” - the man frowns at what he thinks is your ridiculous question. - “On all the worlds, I have always given only one chance to surrender. Either they used it or accepted the consequences. It's the same system here. Either you talk or I use your mouth differently.”

You sob loudly, not wanting to know what he plans to do if you refuse. Tears are streaming down your cheeks and you are trying to say anything other than sounds of despair. You feel Perturabo looking at you carefully. He waits until you test his patience and do not follow a direct order. Finally you speak, trying to remember that very request. The time when you were naive and happy.

“I-I studied all the strongholds you b-built on the conquered worlds. All, uh, all outposts were created with perfect precision to torment the enemy. No living creature can compare to your s-siege prowess.” - you babble, feeling like you can’t hold back your tears. Salty drops randomly flow down your cheeks and you hastily wipe them away.

“I-I-I, ah, I was delighted when I learned about your exploits in the vastness of the G-galaxy. Siege of Incaladion, Bernean and Morningstar Campaign. I read everything about you, all your campaigns.” - you gasp, tears blur your eyes and you see almost nothing. Your voice constantly breaks and you almost howl. - “It was because of you that I decided to become a s-sculptor. When I saw how functional and at the same time beautiful your buildings were. And... I want to serve you. P-please, uh, let me be your l-personal remembrancer. Please."

With the last word, you begin to cry uncontrollably. Feeling weak in your body, you try with all your strength to stay on your feet. Throat hurts from emotions. After some time, you calm down and realize that all this time the Iron Lord was silent. Waited patiently for your hysteria. Or he was thinking about it. Or trying to hold back your emotions.

"Yes." - a tense male voice sweeps across the room with a breath and you shudder from the surge of unrest. - “Yes, you will serve me. My remembrancer, my consort, my slave, my treasure. Only for me and no one else.”

With slow steps, the primarch approaches you until he kneels. You continue to look at the floor until the man lifts your face by the chin. You have no choice but to look into his eyes.

When a man attacked the fortress of Dorn and killed your bodyguard. When he grinned at the sight of you. You thought you imagined what you saw. You desperately didn’t want to see WHAT the primarch had turned into, so you avoided looking at him. Rogal did not scare you, he did not deceive you.

Perturabo's yellowed eyes burn with hellish fire. Extremely pale skin appears with black bruises under the eyes. The primarch was always harsh and cruel. But now it smells of death. More than ever, he now looks less like a primarch and less like a man. But the worst thing was the terrible desire with which he looked at you.

“I'll drown worlds in blood for you.”

Before you even had time to scream, you felt his mouth on your lips. His giant arms wrapped possessively around your waist. You grunt in pain. The way he squeezed you, the way he invaded your mouth with his tongue. Dorn was too gentle, too careful with you. The Iron Lord wanted to take you whole.

You barely free your hands from under the primarch’s mass so that he doesn’t crush them. Palms instinctively rest on the man’s shoulders. You want to push him away, you want to take a breath of air and run away, but you don’t have the strength. Perturabo either misinterpreted your gesture. Or it provoked him.

He pulls away and you take a deep breath before yelping in surprise when he suddenly lifts you up and lays you down on the table. At the same time, throwing things off the cold surface so as not to interfere. The man tore your top dress and you close your eyes.

“Look at me,” a menacing voice rings out with such cruelty that you cringe. But you still follow the order and look straight into the primarch’s eyes. - “I want you to watch."

Rogal was not your master. He was a primarch, but he didn't look down on you, he tried to understand you. But even if you shout it at the top of your lungs, it will not give any result. It is not the Praetorian who is obsessed with conquering you, but the Iron Lord. And you have nothing left to do but watch.

Perturabo squeezes your sides and you whimper from the rolling pain. You know the primarch is gentle with you in his own way. There will be bruises on your skin, but anything is better than broken bones. The man’s mouth greedily kisses and licks your collarbone until it moves to your breast. The Iron Lord bites and leaves hickeys on the tender flesh. His marks are large and painful due to the size difference.

You start crying again in pain. From the shameful pleasure that your body experiences to relieve discomfort. From longing for a loved one who is sure that you are safe. And from uncontrollable almost animal fear. Because you were forced to watch. Because while Perturabo is using you as he pleases, he continues to look straight into your eyes.

The Iron Lord enjoyed your whimpers, your body, your submission. Enjoyed the power and enslavement of a mortal girl. Enjoyed the victory over his sworn enemy, planning new atrocities.

This torture continues for a long time before Perturabo leaves your stomach with a pop. Thumbs stroke your womb while yellow eyes glow with hellfire from terrible anticipation. You shrink all over from a frightening premonition and unconsciously try to move away from the primarch. But the man’s grip is too strong, even though he didn’t even put in a little effort.

The Iron Lord looks at your lower body for a moment before raising his head. His face is absolutely stone, there is not a hint of anger or smirk. Humanity is lost and an iron monster emerges. His cold and loud voice makes your blood run cold.

"You belong to me."

***

Your collarbone still hurts. The Black Mark of the Iron Legion is ugly and you're grateful you can't see it. Perturabo branded you like a slave. Although, given your situation, you were. He kissed you tenderly, somehow imitating Dorn's touch as if he had seen you alone. After which he took you to new chambers so that you could rest.

He turned off the light so you could sleep. And, it would seem, after the pain, mental and physical, you should have fallen into a serene sleep. But you couldn't. Thoughts rushed about like animals in a cage, concentrating on one ray of hope. Rogal. Soon he will know that you are missing. And even if not, he will still follow in the footsteps of his enemies, you know him.

You sob again, curling into the fetal position. The bed is gigantic, you seem so small on it. But it was not made for a Primarch or a Space Marine, no. You managed to look at it before the Iron Lord left you alone in the darkness (alas, the portholes with a view of space were not provided for on the Iron Blood due to their impracticality). And besides, as a true sculptor, you only had to touch the furniture to feel all the subtlety of the work.

Perturabo carved every detail. Birds and flowers, scenes with battles and dates. Images of the sun and moon and stars. Not to mention the fact that the bed was shaped like a shell. It was practical so that you could easily get off or climb on it. But the size could fit an entire primarch there.

He made it especially for you. And judging by what was going on in his workshop... for the two of you. No no no. You no longer had the strength to cry and you wanted to be persistent for the sake of Dorn. Still, the knowledge that the Iron Lord had been planning to steal you away for a long time, not only to mock his brother, but also for his own pleasure, made you sick.

Perturabo regretted turning you away at the Imperial Palace. He regretted that he had alienated a woman who sincerely admired him. He was jealous that his brother got you. The one who always received everyone's admiration and wore the mark of the Emperor with honor. Who not only fought, but also created something beautiful. He didn't truly love you, he wanted to have you as his favorite property. For eternity.

The last thought gave you chills. You were an ordinary girl. A fragile mortal. A remembrancer who never took up sword. No wonder you were easily wounded when an assassin from a recently conquered planet snuck into Dorn's chambers. He easily cut your throat. And you died. And didn't.

Rogal saw how life left you and how it returned to you. It was a miracle. Which, alas, could not be ignored. Malcador the Sigillite told you two that you were one of the Eternals. You were cursed to live forever. And blessed. After all, this meant that you could spend your whole life next to Dorn. Rogal promised the Emperor that you would not distract him. He will continue to serve the Imperium with all his zeal. And he will be able to love you. But now you are in the hands of the Iron Lord. And the thought that you could not leave his Eternal Fortress even in death was terrifying.

You mentally rejoice that even though Perturabo tore your top dress, he still left you with a skirt. Your hands reach into your pocket and you pull out a tiny marble tile. You press your lips to Rogal's face carved into it and inhale the scent of the mineral.

Before the primarch's departure, you specially made this tile. To preserve his image and hope that everything will be fine with him. That he will survive on Terra and will definitely return to you. This was your best work. Rogal did not pose. He slept while you carved his peaceful face.

��Please come to me.” - you whisper quietly, putting all your hope and love into the words. Fingers gently trace Dorn's perfect features. The marble is pleasant to the touch, but when you close your eyes, you imagine Rogal’s warm skin. - "Come to me. My love, I'm so scared. So lonely. Save me. Protect me. Come to me."

You say your personal prayer with sentiment until the sound of footsteps is heard. The door opens slightly and light enters the dark room. The heat of hellfire scorches the coolness of your chambers, enveloping the dark figure of your tormentor. You forcefully press the marble to your chest, hoping to hide the last piece of the home from the Iron Lord. His eyes are filled with a sense of awe out of self-deception and exaltation.

“You called me.”

[corvusspecialartist]

Fanfic Decision:

Tbh, I really want to write a yandere primarch based on one of my favorite pieces of poetry called "I know why the Caged BIrd Sings" (I have read the book and well.. it is a read)

Issue is that Im not sure which primarch it fits the best for.

[kit-williams]

I'm using moody's chart to help with this (Thank you @bispecsual and @mothiir for ideas for the final few men)

Mortarion You had intended to call Mortarion Daddy but you had been stunned into silence by the sudden moan from him as he cried out, "Take it Mommy!" As his hands pull you close as he thrusts in deep. Your face flushed as he looks at you with such an intense lustful look... You clench down as he leans in growling, "Be a good Mommy for me..."

Demon Prince!Fulgrim "Such a pretty little Mommy." He says as two of his hands rub over your rounded belly. You whimper not knowing where you are as you lean towards the warm voice. His tail coiling around you, "I might just have to keep you like this... so perfect. My perfect little Mommy."

Lorgar You ride Lorgar hard as you ask him... whose a good boy? "Me Mommy me." He moans back holding your hips helping you ride him as you tell him what a good boy he is...

Horus His mouth was wrapped around a nipple as you could feel the heat from his mouth just helping with the let down. You moaned softly with relief as not quite milk dribbled into his mouth as he worked your nipple with his tongue not wanting to suck too hard. You pet the back of his head closing your eyes, "Such yummy milk Mommy makes." He croons to your swollen stomach...

Perturabo You could hardly understand Perturabos' rambling at this point, he always got like this during sex as he pulled your hips back to his just fucking you like you were some sort of toy. He groans behind you kissing your shoulder, "I don't know if you're prettier now dripping my cum or when you'll become a Mommy." He says as you struggle to stay awake as he now lavishes you with kisses.

Sanguinius Blood was smeared across his face, your blood, he was always so helpful during your heavy periods when he was here. Red wings paint the sides of his mouth as he looks at you with a blissed out look, "Mommy's blood tastes so sweet." He growls before climbing on top...

Yan!Konrad "You'll be such a good Mommy." He says buried deep inside of you, his cock hardly leaving your cunt as his hand rubs your growing stomach. You whimpering and pushing you hips back to his as he continues to praise you.

Yan!Corvus "Mommy likes riding my cock doesn't she?" He croons to you licking your skin as your arms are tied together. He bites away the gag before his tongue occupies your mouth, his chest rumbles as he whispers in your ear, "Mommy is going to make cute little Ravens for me."

Roboute It had slipped out from him during a late night but the way you smelt instantly betrayed your thoughts as it quickly led to you being fucked on his desk, "Please Tell me I'm doing so good Mommy." He moaned in your ear as he listened to you tell him how good he was doing with this nightmare of an empire....

Vulkan You had called him Daddy as an accident. You cover your face with your hands as that brought sex to a pause as he just smiles over you, "I mean I guess I can let you call me Daddy," He says as you peek out from between your fingers utterly embarrassed before his voice drops to a sinful octave, "but only if you let me call you Mommy."

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

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

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

Perturabo is the type of guy to want to be called daddy in bed 😭😭

And i would gladly fulfill that desire of his, because if we consult the chart

I would call that man daddy with absolutely no shame or qualms about it. i would do it with a gusto that would concern him

[bleedingichorhearts]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬…” {1/2}

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: How I would think the Primarchs would react to you saying “I’m getting too old for this.” Yandere Primarchs would be a different story…

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

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

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

TW // Slight Angst.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Part 2}

The Emperor; “Revelation:”

He hears your words through your soul. He doesn’t need to be in front of you to hear you say you’re “too old” comment to yourself, and he feels… indifferent about it, in a way. Sure, you’re his counterpart, but he has always expected you to eventually fall to the hands of death before him. It was inevitable. He was a proclaimed god, and you? A simple human. A human that reminds him of too much true humanity itself despite his title…

Lion El’Johnson; “The First:”

Is also indifferent about it and expects it. He knows the consequences and prepares himself for it, or at least tries to. His face is voided of emotion, but his eyes stare and that means a lot than what many lead on. He won’t show it, act or even acknowledge it, and perhaps… he doesn’t want to.

Fulgrim; “The Phoenician:”

Gasps at you from like a 5-mile radius (maybe more) before coming to where you are leaning down to sweep you up in his arms. Kissing you on the cheek and forehead, and it’s very much to your confusion. Your hubby is being very affectionate with you randomly. Well, until he praises you on your age and how remarkable you look do you piece together what happened to get such lovin’.

Perturabo; “Lord of Iron:”

Pretends not to care, but he does give a very low hum of acknowledgement. Is somehow better than his first brother as he at least acknowledged your words. (From a far radius as well.) He’s a bit… hurt? At your words, but he knows it’s inevitable as well. Though, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t change something within his workplace to make you more comfortable and less eligible to say those words again.

Jaghatai Khan; “The Warhawk:”

Would pick you up, kiss you on the neck before giving you to the other wives of his sons. Requesting them to pamper you for the day, and if they can’t? He will, and he’s surprisingly good at it. It’s nothing much compared to the thought of your aging death, but he can at least make it more comfortable, right?

Leman Russ; “The Wolf King:”

Plays excited and happy, but is… gloomy on the inside. He doesn’t like your words, you should prosper, hunting with him and his sons forever. Yet he is not oblivious to the acts of death: slow and fast. Though, maybe hunting with his sons in the… afterlife would be more enjoyable? Lasting? He doesn’t like to think too much on it, but he’ll try and spend his time with you more often. (Not like he already does.)

Rogal Dorn; “Praetorian of Terra:”

Gives you a voided stare like his first brother too. Though, he also doesn’t really acknowledge it either, with words anyway. He may act though, doing the same thing his 4th brother does. Trying to provide you with a much more comfortable environment. Stop complaining about his quarters being enough. He must ensure structure.

Konrad Cruze; “Dark King:”

Stares at you too, but is like… worse than Lord Dorns stare. You think he’ll do anything for your uttered words? Thats right, he won’t. If he let himself die to the hands of an assassin? He’ll let you suffer your age. He feels indifferent about not killing you himself however… He may or may not offer extra human bones to you.

Sanguinius; “The Angel:”

Looks at you for a second: up and down before giving a low hum, and gracefully walking to your side. Inside, he doesn’t like your words and he knows his sons around him don’t like it either. It’s one of the many things they think they can’t live without: you. He’ll cover you with his wings as everything seems to get painfully quiet, but he’ll praise you as if nothing happened.

Ferrus Manus; “The Gorgon:”

His legion would simply not care, but him? He’s affected by it. Yes, he likes your humanity, but please. Don’t say those words. He doesn’t wish to think upon them. He doesn’t wish for you to… possibly be like his sons. He’ll keep you more close to him than usual after that, keeping a good eye on you. He won’t say anything, but he’s… there.

[wxnheart]

Aghhh..... I'm filled with Rogal Dorn brainworms rn I just can't get enough of him 😭 normal Dorn yeah but I really love your yandere headcanons as well. I like how stoic he is, and how that means his beloved would only have the faintest of suspicions about his feelings for them. Lowkey paranoia setting in as you can't begin to parse his true feelings 👀 but also he's demonstrated some extreme bouts of emotion before (like when Garro told him about Horus' betrayal) so idk... I like the thought that he's got all these super strong emotions underneath the surface that he's only keeping in check in order to put on a good face for his role. Super strong emotions that might only be revealed to his poor beloved...

Idk what are your thoughts? 😊❤

I would be there for Dorn. With open arms. And open legs. And an open mouth.

I can imagine him having an outburst of emotion over his beloved, especially with the knowledge that Perturabo now has his sights set on them and Dorn has had it with his shit. It surprises... just about everyone who witnesses it. And knowing how his brother works, he can expect an attack. Soon. And tells his sons to prepare themselves.

But fr fr, anon, I need to know more of your thoughts about this because I'm so intrigued by a scenario like this happening.

[kit-williams]

Wonderful breakfast!

Oh yes it is because as an Iron Warrior he is stubborn enough to not instantly cave to the intense bond like most other chaos space marines and loyalists would. He got that Perturabo in him and he is willing to let it break and fray till it's probably about to kill him (since intense bonds are not meant to break)((have fun Alcyon with your even more intense bond))

Oh yeah no I try to write bonded chaos space marines as unhinged, Troc is a good example of just him being practically manic about his bonded, Karth (Charlie's space marine) was willing to stay and possibly die rather than leave his bonded even though he was extremely gifted by the dark gods... And then Ari... Being Ari. I think I wrote him unhinged enough. So yeah unhinged bonded are always fun!

As the yandere expert (I am hardly an expert) this could have gone either way in my opinion I see it more as if you were trying to write him as Yandere or not

Dandelions and Yarrow (1)

Dandelions and yarrow are both tough, hardy weeds that can grow under harsh conditions.

Alcyon (chaos Iron Warrior) makes the mistake of nearly breaking his bond with Amelia, his bonded human.

Author’s Note: TW: smut, noncon, dubcon, angst. This chapter is all hurt, no comfort. You are warned.

Just a few points:

This takes place before Ben/Malaran “Orca” Blackspike storyline.

Amelia is bonded to Alcyon, a chaos Iron Warrior. These two share an intense bond that teeters on the point of becoming a mate bond.

Alcyon has a pretty good grasp of the english language. He usually communicates with Amelia in english and other Astartes in Gothic.

Thanks to @squishyowl for the divider image!

OCs: Alcyon (chaos Iron Warrior), Amelia Plover

Tagged: @shadowfirecat, @kit-williams, @bleedingichorhearts, @barn-anon, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @bispecsual, @ms--lobotomy

The meaning of 'heartbreak’ had been all but foreign to him before, but now he understood what it meant as soon as he saw the shattered look in Amelia’s eyes directed at him. Alcyon knew that she had received the news about being banned from her son’s school. 

“Alcyon! Why did you do it? Why did you have to fight him? I told you not to!” Amelia didn’t know where to even start with him on this anymore. The news broke her. Meeting Ben at his school before her ex came to pick him up was the only way she could see her son.    

Crossing his arms, the chaos Iron Warrior bristled and gave a disgruntled huff, “I could have killed the Black Templar. By right of challenge, I would have won your boy back for you had they not stopped me.”

“But they did stop you from killing him and now we both are banned from Ben’s school!” Amelia’s temper rose. 

“You shouldn’t have challenged him! I told you repeatedly to not do this and make the situation worse! It’s not that simple!” she added angrily. Amelia had never argued with Alcyon like this. She never wanted to argue with him like this, but she needed him to see, to understand how much his fight with the Black Templar cost her. 

“How is it not that simple? We could have simply taken your son at any point and you can have him back”

“Human laws don't make it simple!” Amelia nearly yelled at him out of frustration.

“I am bonded to you! In the eyes of human law, I am, to some degree, responsible for you too! What they see is MY chaos Astartes going out of control, starting a fight, and nearly killing a loyalist Astartes at my son’s school!” Her heart hurt, her head hurt, she didn’t want to continue. Why couldn’t her Astartes understand this? 

The chaos Iron Warrior replied, “You don’t control me.” 

“Of course I don’t, but that’s not how the human lawmakers see it.” Amelia breathed a vexed sigh trying to calm down. This argument was getting tiresome, she couldn’t remember the number of times they’ve talked about this. She knew her Astartes had done this on her behalf but she warned him time and time again not to, “I don’t even know why we’re still arguing about this. It’s too late for that now.” She grimaced. 

Amelia straightened out the order that she held crumpled in her fist, despairing as she read through the damning letter again. What was she to do now?

“We’ll have another chance to get your son back.”

His words locked around her chest tightly. She grit her teeth, trying hard not to cry from the whirlwind of emotions inside, “We won’t have another chance. Even if there was, you won’t be helping me.”

She could hear Alcyon’s quiet growl building, “What did you say?”

Amelia whirled on him, eyes blazing with fury and angry tears sliding unchecked down her face, “I said, ‘Even if I had another chance, I won’t be asking you for help!’”

The volume in her voice rose as she continued, “You lost my last chance to see Ben again, because you didn’t listen! How could I even trust you to not mess up next time?!” 

“Mess up?” Alcyon snapped at her, “Mess up?! I only took action because you kept crying about being stopped at every turn because of the laws and that damned family of his!”

“That’s exactly why we couldn’t meet them with violence! Because they are spiteful enough that they will throw the law at us and now they have the excuse of saying you are a danger to Ben due to your fight with his father’s Black Templar. Moreover, the law will always be biased against chaos Astartes and you are no exception! Why couldn’t you understand that?!”

Alcyon’s frustration grew the more Amelia said. It wasn’t his fault that the Black Templar and that family of hers kept her son away. He was the one who had supported her from the time she had accepted that he had bonded to her. And now she didn’t want his help because he made this one mistake? 

He sneered, “Don’t you dare blame me for that son of Dorn keeping your son away from you.”

“You are partially to blame! If you didn’t fight and nearly kill him, we wouldn’t be banned from the school! I wouldn't be in this mess!” she spat, too emotionally exhausted to keep her temper in check. 

“Then you shouldn’t have kept complaining about the inept human laws that you like to play with! At least I did something about it!” the Iron Warrior retorted.

Her anger boiled over, “I didn’t need you to do anything about it! I didn’t want you to do anything about it! Sometimes I wonder why I’m even bonded to you in the first place!” Amelia’s eyes widened and her expression turned pained, even she couldn’t believe the harsh words that came out of her mouth, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Ignoring her stuttered apology, Alcyon snarled back at her, “I didn’t ask to be bonded to you. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t be bound to a simpering weakling like you!”

He knew that his words hurt. Judging by the agonized expression she wore, his words stabbed in all the right places. She didn’t want his help? He’s the one who’s taken action to get her son back! He’s the one who gave her the chance to visit her son again! How dare she be so ungrateful! Alcyon angrily ignored the voice in the back of his mind screaming at him to stop, that they won’t be able to walk back their words after this. So occupied by his resentment and anger, he couldn’t feel their bond slowly come apart, thread snapping by fragile thread.

Amelia felt her heart crack and regrets started to bleed from it. 

“I never asked for you to be bonded to me either. You could’ve left me alone, you should’ve stayed away!” She wiped her eyes angrily, “None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up in my life!”

Another thread snapped. 

“You’re the one who accepted our bond! You wanted it! Had you not, you’d still be that lonely little human woman yearning for a big Astartes save her and warm her bed at night, because her own husband wouldn’t bother to fuck her!” Alcyon resentfully pointed out. 

Amelia glared at him, speechless with anger and mortification. 

“I heard what they said about you… the whore who prefers the company of chaos demons rather than her own family.” He sneered. 

“I do not…!” She spluttered in embarrassment, “I am not a whore!”

The Iron Warrior looked infuriatingly smug despite the hurt, “That’s not what you moaned when I fucked you.”

A few more threads loosened. 

Feeling humiliated beyond tears, Amelia growled low, “Get. Out.” 

“No. This place is mine as much as it is yours.” He replied stubbornly. 

“Fine. Then I’ll go! I can’t deal with you right now.” Amelia knew this was going nowhere and immediately yielded. She started walking away only to be roughly yanked back into place, plastered against the wall. Her arm, held tightly in his claw. Amelia froze, not daring to struggle lest the metal claw cut into her flesh. 

“I’m not done with you!” Alcyon growled. A dark desire in him wanted to see her fight back so he would have reason to scorch her in return. 

A number of threads singed and sizzled as it burnt away.

“What else do you want from me? To be thanked?” Amelia asked, indignation and hurt seeping into her voice. 

She snapped, “Well thank you for losing the last chance I have to see my son again!”

“Don’t take that tone with me!” He roared back.

Amelia screamed when Alcyon’s heavy metal claw slammed into the wall a few inches from her cheek. Sharp metal tips dug deep into the plaster; a stark frightening reminder of how dangerous Alcyon actually was. The red lenses on the chaos marine’s face glowed with a malignant energy as he loomed over her.  

“Good. You should remember to be afraid.” Alcyon leered at her, a sense of dark satisfaction washing over him as he watched terrified tears run down Amelia’s face. 

Another few threads broke. 

“You act as if this one mistake of mine is a world ending tragedy and wipes away everything else I had done for you!” He hissed disdainfully. 

Not even giving her a chance to reply, Alcyon continued, “Everything I had done up until now had always been for you! Always!” Spite and anger built in his chest, “And you dismiss me like some misbehaving pet?!”

“I never treated you like that! If you feel like I treat you like some pet, take off your collar then! Leave me! I can’t stop you!” She spat back, “I won’t stop you!”

She was right. He knew he could leave. He knew she couldn’t stop him. What could Amelia even do? She was such a weak creature. But something stopped him, did he actually want to leave? 

“We already said we don’t want to be bonded to each other. Then we don’t need to stay in whatever this.. this… whatever this is then!” Amelia angrily cried. 

To break this bond tethering him to Amelia’s existence seemed completely abhorrent to him. Even if he didn’t have a choice in who he was bonded to, the thought of her not wanting to stay by his side made Alcyon’s chest feel tight. 

“I can’t believe I loved you.” She said hoarsely, sorrow cracking through her voice, “I thought…”

Several more threads from the bond snapped.

His hearts shouldn’t have clenched like that when he heard her say it. The Iron Warrior dismissed the feeling with a scoff, “You’re delusional. There was never love. We are bonded. You are simply just mine.”

She glared at him through her tears, “We may be bonded, but I am not yours.”

That sentence echoed in his ear. 

More strands broke. 

“You don’t mean that.” Alcyon hissed through gritted teeth. The defiance in her words made something twist and shear inside. How dare she say that. She was his. She was his. Amelia was bonded to him and him only. She was his! That thought ran rampant in his mind.

“You don’t mean that.” The chaos marine suddenly pinned his human to the table, one hand trapping her wrists above her head, his teeth caressing her throat. Amelia cried out from the impact, her body spasmed in pain. 

“Tell me you don’t mean that.” He growled. Amelia idly wondered if Alcyon would tear her throat out if she told him otherwise. 

More threads strained and snapped. 

“Say it!” He snarled and bit down hard. 

Amelia mewled, her body instinctively reacting by arching into his. Instinctively wanting more. Her skin prickled at their heightened sensitivity. A weak moan escaped her as he sucked on the tender mark. 

“Tell me, Amelia. Tell me, you are mine. Your body certainly knows it.” She could feel him smirk against her flushed skin. She tried to bite back another whine at the heat and pressure of his body pressed flush to her own, her hips pushing back when he started rolling his hips against hers. It always started like this… she thought as her mind started to fog. 

Appalled at her own reaction, Amelia panicked. She twisted her hips away, bringing a knee up to push his body off her. Her arms strained to free themselves from the tight clasp of his hand.

She started screaming, “NO! Get off— mmngh!” He silenced her with a rough kiss, his tongue wrestling down her own. A frustrating rage in him grew at her defiance. She kept denying that she belonged to him. She was his as he was hers. They were bonded. He won’t allow her to deny the fact any longer. He’ll remind her who she is bonded to. 

“No.” The chaos marine sneered, his grip holding Amelia’s wrists together tightened, his claw grabbed her leg, easily moving it back to the side of his hips, forcing her to lay on her back facing him once more. She winced in discomfort. 

“Your words deny it, but your body and soul remembers. I will make you remember!” He angrily growled into her mouth, the vibration from it causing another unwanted arc of pleasure to course through her body. In one quick movement, Alcyon’s metal claw effortlessly shreds through her clothing. The torn clothes fell apart, leaving behind thin bleeding welts where his claw swiped against her bare torso. 

More threads were sliced from the bond. 

Amelia's eyes widened with fear as she started to struggle in earnest, “No! Alcyon! Let me g-!” His mouth was on hers again in an instant, cutting off her protests. She tried to turn her head away. He bit hard onto her bottom lip, warning her to be still. She whined in response before he promptly stole her breath again. 

“Stop, Alcyon! Please sto-!” Amelia begged as soon as their mouths parted. 

She could see every scar in detail around the lens implant as they stayed nose to nose, “Even if you deny it, you know that you’re mine.” Alcyon harshly whispered, “You will always be mine.”

He grabbed her hair and pulled her head to one side before biting down hard onto an old mark, drawing blood. Amelia keened wordlessly, tears leaking from her eyes as the pain added to the heated pleasure within her own traitorous body. She knew that this was a natural reaction, but she couldn’t help but wish that her body didn’t betray her like this. 

With a pleased growl, the chaos Iron Warrior licked the blood from the wound then kissed her. An unbidden moan left her throat as the bitter iron salt of her blood passed between their tongues. 

“Your body is more honest isn’t it?” Alcyon laughs sardonically against her lips. He could smell his human’s arousal right when he pinned her under him, the heady scent getting stronger as he continued to mark her. His teeth nipped and worried her sensitive skin down toward her breast, soaking in all her involuntary gasps and twitching muscles as he laid his claim onto her flesh. 

Amelia flushed with shame and regret. She wished she had never had slept with Alcyon, if only so that he would not know her body as well as he did. She regretted that she allowed her relationship with the Iron Warrior to become this intimate. She regretted that she had fallen in love with him. 

More threads dissolved. 

He bit down hard onto her breast, his sharp teeth sinking into the soft tissue. Amelia bit her lip to stop another whine from escaping, her hands stiffened into claws as Alcyon’s tongue licked up the blood that had beaded up from the wound.  

He gave the same treatment to her other breast, further sucking and teething her nipple into a hard peak. 

“No..! Alcy— ohhhn!” Her throat was tight as she let out a strangled moan, her pussy clenching around nothing. Amelia flattened her back against the table and tried to curl into herself, trying to shirk away from his touch. The chaos marine let out a feral, displeased growl. He grabbed her thighs and slotted her roughly against him, forcing her legs to spread wide to accommodate for the width of his muscled bulk. His metal claw dug into her back, the pain forcing Amelia to arch her spine, pushing more of her breast into his mouth; her breath shuddering and her hips thrusting involuntarily, rubbing her aching core against his pelvis as he sucked and nipped bruises onto her sensitive flesh. 

“No more… please Alcyon.” Amelia begged.  Shame filled her being as she could feel her cunt becoming slick with her juices. 

Alcyon ignored her pleas and groaned at the scent of her deepened arousal mixed with the iron in her blood, his own cock hardening within his pants from rutting against her hot wet core. He could feel the twitches of her muscles and hear her near silent moans and involuntary gasps as Amelia tried desperately to stop reacting to his touch. He will make her fall. He will make her remember. 

This time he will leave his marks so others could see who she belonged to. Alcyon bit her neck again, sinking his teeth just below her jawline. 

Her shame and regret flashed into anger. “Stop it!!!” She snarled, whipping up a freed hand to strike his face. 

Alcyon caught her hand and roughly forced it onto the table again, “Say it, Amelia. Say that you are mine.” He demanded, his eye darkened with feral lust and possessiveness heavy in his voice. 

She was beautiful, pinned helplessly below him, glaring at him with rage simmering under the surface. He could see Amelia’s heightened pulse flutter underneath her fragile skin. Bruises forming where he marked over and blood beading out from marks that broke skin. Her breasts heaved as she struggled to steady her breathing.

Amelia bared her teeth at him in anger and contempt, “Leave me alone! I can’t stand the sight of you! I hate you.”

He felt it then. It was as if someone reached into his chest and grabbed a bundle of threads that made up the core of his bond and brutally ripped them out. Sharp agonizing pain stabbed into his hearts as each thread snapped and broke, as if they were once attached to them. Alcyon stared at her, reeling from the sudden shock of pain. Amelia took the chance to slip out from under him and ran into the bedroom, locking the door behind her. 

The chaos warrior shook himself out of it, that shock of pain quickly settling to a dull ache as resentment soon took over. Alcyon turned to follow his human when the shine of the intricate metal fish on the table caught his attention. It was a gift he made for Amelia that she treasured. Eyeing the fish figurine with spiteful hostility, he crushed it in his hand and flung it against the wall, shattering it into pieces. 

Amelia’s sobs were quiet and muffled, but even they couldn’t escape from his keen hearing. Every cell in his body was compelling him to respond to his bonded human’s sorrowful cries; to comfort her, to apologize, to rebuild the threads of the bond that’s been broken. Alcyon ground his teeth hard, fighting against the compulsion. The Iron Warrior ignored it all and stormed out of their home, slamming the door so hard it nearly took the door off its hinges. 

Alcyon was long gone by the time Amelia crept out from the bedroom. Teary-eyed, but fully dressed again, Amelia cautiously made her way back to the living room, still wary that the chaos warrior was still lurking somewhere in their home. More and more cracks formed in her heart as she looked at the evidence of their fight: the gouge marks in the wall, the scratch marks, the torn strips of her clothes that laid on the table. She whimpered and hissed when her own body reminded her of Alcyon’s cuts and bite marks on her. But that hurt couldn’t compare to heart wrenching pain when she found the shattered remnants of her beloved fish figurine. 

Amelia remembered Alcyon had made it for her: a beautiful and surprisingly intricate piece of art that came from his rough and metal hands. She loved it so much. It reminded her of her son’s favourite creatures… and what she mistakenly thought was Alcyon’s love for her. Tears started to roll down her cheeks again as she painstakingly picked up the remains, piece by shattered piece.  

A particularly sharp fragment of the fish sliced into her finger, the sudden shock of pain causing her already shaky hand to drop the pieces she just collected. Sliding down the wall, her hand fisted around the pieces that didn’t fall, Amelia curled into herself in anguish. Letting out a grief-stricken wail, she wept bitterly. 

[relax-and-read-on]

Life update: post nurgle plague edition

Hey yall!! Sorry for the lack of content recently!!! But I survived covid with only minor leftover exhaustion , and im back to work again!! I really missed my patient so much.

Fanfic wise: I will have a few things out for the 1st, part of the Warhammer fic exchange >:3!! I also have the end of Castle of Glass coming up (Vulkan/Morty stuff), the follow up to Agency (primarch fem au), and chapter 3 of Different perspective (uriel/Honsou fic), all coming up pretty quickly in the next following two weeks or so!!!

I have multiple projects slowly bumbling in my various pots to keep me occupy until this automn, including:

The actual fanfic of the "Let Roboute Pet a Cow 2k22" au

A follow up to Thrall, my historical viking au with Leman/Lorgar

Perturabo/Magnus epistolary romance in the warp

The continuation of Roboute's sleeping adventure in monster fucking

Fem!Konrad/Oc self insert ish lesbian yandere

Saul/Lucius BDSM pre heresy fic

Planet swap au

..... And so many more! My wip list is, literally, 42 projects long

As for this blog....

This weekend, I'm gonna try to post some hc and answer some ask!! I will ALSO try to figure out how queue work, so yall will not starve so much. Clearly, yall need to know each primarch smash bros main to live your life.

[kit-williams]

No Longer You

The next part in the Legion Mother Lost in the Warp Series. One of his prophetic sons comes to the Iron Lord with worrying news while the Iron Mother receives worrying news as well.

Male Lead: Perturabo Female Lead: Penelope Song on repeat: Epic the Musical - No Longer You Cw: Song fic, pov switching

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

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

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

Perturabo went over her words again and again and again in his mind... his mind churning so much that his body destabilizes and he felt anger flare up at how worked up he was getting over a possible warp ghost or worse yet a trick. He buried that part of himself... buried all these emotions tied to her when he burned Olympia... when he killed Calliphone... when he needed her tender heart to hold back his wrath... a wrath that ultimately was tainted by his grief. His breaking down after Olympia was just as much of him mourning her death in equal measure to his regret bubbling up. Would she have agreed? Perturabo wonders as maybe she could have stayed his hand upon his sister... upon Olympia... he knows for a fact that he wouldn't have followed Horus as long as he did... Nelly wouldn't have let him.

Ajax was one of the few things he could hold over his brothers of something he had and they did not... hindsight either paints his thoughts or gives him insight into how certain brothers of his had grown far too interested in Penelope once she was carrying Ajax... and many of them had turned traitor. Perturabo pauses in his tinkering as he lets ancient thoughts return to the surface as he wonders.... what she would have said to get him to stop following Horus, if he ever started to follow him in the first place. He blames himself for her death, he called her to Olympia when he caught wind that the corpse that was once his Father and the frail Malcador had expressed interest in meeting Ajax... catching wind in wanting to summon her to Terra without him. Once more Perturabo lets his thoughts wander... what would have happened... anxiety flairs inside his gut at the brief thought of sieging the imperial palace and not knowing where she was... or even if Father would keep her alive for that long.

He exhales, his nostrils flaring like a grox-bull's, as he focuses on melding the metal in his hands; Ferrus was always better at making the metal into surprisingly delicate shapes... when he wanted to. Perturabo looks at the metal in his clawed hands as it is another shell... to replace the one that had fallen into disrepair from his neglect over the millennia. A rare smile flutters across the lord of Iron's face as he looks at the iridescent metal shell. His eyes flick over to a screen as there was a rare thing... someone that was not one of his warsmiths was requesting an audience... His tongue moves over the fangs in his mouth, reminding him of his brothers Leman and Konrad with their fanged maws, as he thinks and looks at who dares seek an audience with him. One of his Sorcerer sons... Tiresias Korpanos... the Korpanos were a rare set of psyker twins that had survived the trials of the Iron Warriors, Perturabo remembers telling Magnus of his sons and how excited the Sorcerer king had gotten. Psyker twins were always more powerful together but he remembers that the twins willingly separated as his brother... Morpheus went with Penelope.

Though Tiresias had grown wildly eccentric in the millennia that had followed their damnation. His nose wrinkled at the thought of dealing with this gibbering sorcerer or at worst would be speaking in vague poetics. He was feeling nostalgic today as he could remember Nelly listening to the prophets poetics with baited breath and always trying to decipher what they mean or the look in her eyes when she realized some portion of the vision had come true. He could stomach Morpheus' presence and she liked Tiresias but alas their loyalties were not to be... it must have been nostalgia guiding him as he accepted the request.

Penelope looked away from the curly haired Ajax in her lap shoving a bright yellow toy into his mouth as Antioch had told her of his reservations to allow Morpheus Korpanos to see her. He insisted his reservations were only as Morpheus was uncertain of the message he was delivering and as Antioch passed along it was 'vague and ominous'.

"Well, I am not Perturabo who only demands certainty." Penelope said before kissing the young Iron heir as she handed him to one of her handmaidens.

"His message sounds like it comes from a hermit oracle." Captain Antioch said.

"Pity then as I enjoy the old stories," Penelope smiled as she sat in her seat with learned authority, "I will see my son Antioch."

"Yes Legion Mother."

Tiresias twitched at unseen shadows in unreality as they were simply the immaterial tendrils of his genesire drawing far too close for comfort. The Lord of Iron looked at him with a loathsome look in his glowing eyes that flicked between a fiery orange to the icy blue that his eyes were in life. Perturabo was as deadly as any warp predator and perhaps even more so. His genesire simply gestured and so Tiresias began, "I am the prophet with the answers you seek," Perturabo frowns at that, "I see past and future running free... there is a world where I help her get home... but that's not a world I know."

"What?" Perturabo's voice was harsh as he did not like the oracle like delivery but Tiresias was tied to the warp and he remembers how Magnus explained that sometimes delivery would sometimes be roundabout.

"I see a song of past romance," Tiresias said louder and more confidently, "I see the sacrifice of man!" His voice swelled, "I see portrayals of betrayals," There was pain in his voice, "And a brother's final stand..."

"I see you on the brink of death," Morpheus says somberly, "I see you draw your final breath," he says as if in pain from what he sees or feels, "I see a man who gets to make it home alive," His conviction returns, "But it's no longer him."

Penelope sits there surrounded by her iron honor guard as there is concern on her face as she looks at Morpheus. She could see why Antioch was so displeased with Morpheus' revelations. Antioch clenched his jaw at the revelations made as it was his and his brother's duty to guard the Iron Mother, even more so now given what Lord Guilliman had told him about the Lord of Iron.

"I see your palace covered in red... Faces of men who long believed you dead..."

Tiresias voice was quiet and fearful for the next part of his vision would surely displease his genesire, "I see your wife with a man who is haunting," The room became painfully silent as he could see the immaterium condense into a point, it was as if Perturabo had pulled his entire demonic being back into this room and focused his entire being onto Tiresias, "A man with a trail of bodies..."

"Ẃ̸̠̞̆͑H̷̳̩̻͚̀͒͋O̷͇̾͂?"

Perturabo bellowed as the Lord of Iron was done with this game. His claws reached out into the aether and grabbed a part of his soul.

The twins screamed out in utter agony as they could feel their souls being pulled back from their form... they were being ripped open slowly. Antioch and the rest of the maternal guard sprang into action as he gathered Penelope into his arms and rushing her out of the room and away from the potentially unstable psyker; Tiresias could feel his twin and still chose to bear the brunt of what their genesire was doing. The warp began to bend like metal and crack like glass and yet as the Primarch pushed and from what his brain could interpret... it liquified around Perturabo. They could feel the burning of claws sinking into their souls and the burning pressure of his gaze on their souls and the writhed in agony. But, Perturabo finally got to what he was looking for and was assaulted with images that Tiresias had seen but was unable to directly say.

~A song of past romance...~ Violet eyes looked into his own icy blue eyes... Fulgrim in all of his depraved glory grinning at him as in two of his arms he cradled a broken body like a perversion of a lover as he drank the soul right out of the defiled thing... perverse pleasure and so much pain came from the writhing mutilated thing in his arms... Perturabo felt something sick gather in his chest as it looked like Curze had gotten a hold of it... gotten a hold of her as it she reached out to him with a broken, bloody, mutilated hand... all the while Fulgrim was slowly drinking her soul away leaving poisoned and acid filled kisses on ruined skin... that gloating look in those violet eyes as he ripped his eyes away to meet the thing's gaze in his brothers arms... it was Penelope.

The vision mercifully shifted... ~ the sacrifice of man... ~ Roboute stood in front of Penelope as she was holding Ajax in her arms, his brother looked so tired yet there was a hopefulness in his eyes. He could tell years dragged by in this vision and he watched how over this vision of twenty years how the Lady of Iron's heraldry was replaced... the yellows, blacks, and iron colors were slowly replaced piece by piece with gold, white, and blue... the Iron Warrior heraldry replaced with the omega. The sad look in her eyes as Perturabo glanced seeing Ajax shift from an infant to a man... her hair with streaks of grey as Roboute returned to the forefront and he watched his brother drag touches against her skin. Gestures becoming far too intimate as he cupped the side of her face and once more the warp around him became sharp and angry as he watched Robute trail kisses from her ear to her-

Perturabo felt rage. Perhaps a fraction of what he was told of the rage that Sanguinius carried. How dare Roboute touch his wife... his Penelope... his Nelly! How dare he raise his son! As his form churned the vision blurred... ~ portrayals of betrayals... ~ His anger became frozen as once more his gaze met the dull eyed gaze of the corpse of his wife. Her outfit stained red as she laid in a pool of blood. Perturabo looked up seeing Magnus looking down at Ajax in his arms as the cyclops' gaze returned to the body and there was a look of pity and sadness for a moment before he vanished in a whirl of magic.

Before he could finish processing it his icy blue eyes met forest green eyes... Lion's eyes... ~ and a brother's final stand. ~ He glowered at Perturabo as his sword was held to the side, blood dripping from the blade... and by the blade tip curled protectively around a bloody body... Distress crawled over the Primarch as not only in this vision his wife was dead but also his son... Despair and anger fills him as he watches a phantom version of himself charge the "eldest" Primarch...

"Morpheus!" Penelope cried out.

Perturabo exhaled once more hearing her voice, his eyes darting to the tether that linked the twin souls and as much as he could use it to appear to her to be there once again... Perturabo removed his claws from their souls. The Lord of Iron needed time to prepare... time to prepare a place for her... to prepare to bring his wife home. The twins collapsed as blood wept from their eyes and noses. Tiresias took the brunt on his soul gaining new mutations as his left hand was clawed and he could feel a mouth press against the body glove under his right arm. Morpheus was relatively unscathed minus his teeth all being sharp and the new eye on his right cheek... but those could be taken care of.

Captain Antioch walked over to the entrance of the Librarium as Brother Chaplain Achilles walked out, a sigh leaving the vox on the skull helm. "He continues to say disturbing things Brother Captain," He paused for a moment looking at the hard gaze that Antioch was giving him, "things about the Legion Mother's survival... things about Father. Antioch how much stock do you put into his vision?"

Antioch looked at the grim specter that was Chaplain Achilles, "Father is a monster now. As far as I am concerned we are all that is left of the legion."

Achilles hummed, "Lady Penelope is adamant that she spoke with Father. To a pitying degree..."

They were silent for a moment, "There are creatures that can mimic voices," He says knowing what to tell the Iron Mother in her inevitable desperate plea, "we must get her to safety."

"Agreed. She and Ajax must survive lest the morale of our brothers crumble." Achilles tone is firm as a decision has been made.

Castor watched the protective shielding peel back with a thunk as layer upon layer revealed more and more of the starlit void as they left the warp. Olympia floated in the distance... still a dead world thanks to the Primarch of the Dark Angels. But, he was not here to be sentimental about home no he was here for something else. Screens and images flickered to life as in the green light the Gloriana was brought into view. The Iron Amarantos draped in the heraldry of the Iron Warriors and in the unique heraldry to denote that it was the Iron Mother. For the veterans it was as if they were looking into a time capsule, for the Amarantos was a flower compared to the brutal ships they were use to... it was a piece of art.

Castor grinned at ship on his display as he felt as giddy as a Scout again. The memories of the Legion Mother were still clear in his mind as her warm smile was a balm... she was the heart and the hearth of the legion and he felt joy that she was still alive! The ship shifted to high alert as the Amarantos' defenses kicked in as their machine spirits were probing and starting their attacks to cripple them... already locking on to their position but they had the proper codes to feed to the ornery spirit and assuage its demands.

Father had demanded that confrontation was off the table... and rightfully so given there was around five thousand Iron Warriors aboard the vessel and countless security measures all handmade by Father to protect Mother. Castor had to approach this situation delicately but he could not deny the desire to see Mother dearly... to feel her warmth again... the feeling of her hand on his head... and the softness of her voice. He missed the warmth of the iron hearth and would not fail Father.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Pygmalion

[Prologue]

Summary: young woman meets Perturabo and becomes a sculptor in the Iron Blood.

Perturabo/Galatea (OC)

Warnings: no for this part

Word count: 2902

Author's note: The story is alternative version of The desire to possess.

In the prologue we get to know Galatea more. In the following parts there will be more interactions with Perturabo. His POVs will be there as well. With each part the story will get darker and more warnings will appear.

Song: Rammstein - Seemann

Blessed Terra, the birthplace of all humanity and the abode of the Emperor himself. To be born here is a real luck and a gift of fate. To be part of the great Imperium and a resident of the capital. Galatea did not know if the inhabitants of other planets really thought so, but one had to give credit to the iterators. Their skills even made her believe in such truth.

But she was born on the lower levels of the hive and saw the other side of the coin. Dirt and soot, unbearable heat from which weakened serfs died. Galatea herself was born into a family of workers and fully felt the ugliness of such a life. Her parents died too early and she was raised by her grandparents, barely working in a factory. Although her home was closer to the middle levels and therefore she was not born with complications like other children on the lower levels.

Well, after her life changed for the better, there was no need to worry about this. As a child, the girl was often afraid to go to bed, thinking that she would wake up in her tiny, rusty house again. And every time she got up in the morning, she thanked fate for her luck. Even if the Imperial Truths denied such a concept, the little girl then could not come up with another explanation for her new situation.

Galatea had not yet managed to become a full-fledged worker at the factory (although she also made her contribution) due to her age and therefore often spent time outside. She collected stones and built “barricades from the enemies of humanity” and “beautiful palaces”. But most of all, she loved to carve these images in her head on stone. At first, she did not do it very well, but over time, her persistence bore fruit.

Soon she could carve entire pictures on stone. She was especially good at portraits. She even gave them to her grandparents, causing tears of joy and delight on their faces. At least that's what she thought then. But in reality, her dear grandfather and grandmother were saddened that Tea would never be able to reveal her talent because of her origin.

At least, that was the case until one of the best sculptors of Terra, Solomon Vlahos, came to their home. The man was walking around the area in search of inspiration (not for the sake of orphans and the disadvantaged, alas) since the upper levels of Terra had already ceased to bring pleasure. The whims of the rich, as Grandpa used to say. And having learned about Tea's talent, he immediately came to their home to see the child prodigy with his own eyes.

He was impressed. So much so that he offered the grandparents to take the girl to his school for sculptors. Vlahos was even ready to adopt her so that they would not be afraid for the life of their child. Tea remembered that she cried for a long time that day, but her grandma assured her that it would be better for her. They are giving her to the sculptor because they love her.

Galatea never saw them again after that day. The only thing she was able to take with her was an old gray rag. Specially twisted into a rope so that it resembled a person. For the girl, it was a knight, but when Solomon saw the toy, he called it an Iron Warrior. Although the Space Marines were an important part of the Imperium, but being a lower class, Tea knew little about the legions.

But with her new “father”, she not only entered the school of sculptors (named after Vlachos, who would doubt it), but was also able to learn to read. And even gain access to his limitless library. A luxury unheard of for many terranians! And Tea took full advantage of it, absorbing knowledge like a sponge (and this is not to mention the fairy tales that she read at the speed of light).

And of course, thanks to this, she was able to learn about the Legions, the main armies of the Imperium of Man, led by the finest warriors. The Primarchs, the sons of the Emperor himself, whom in ancient times people would call demigods. Tea loved to read about the Space Marines.

But most of all, she loved the Iron Warriors. True heroes who did not wear beautiful and sublime armor like the Emperor's Children or the Blood Angels. They did not just participate in battles. They participated in real sieges, waged grueling wars and were famous for their impeccable fortitude.

Tea could not understand why everyone preferred other Marines. The Imperial Fists were also on her list of favorite Legions for their fortress-building. But there was something about the Iron Warriors that caught the girl's eye. Perhaps it was their grey-yellow armour, reminiscent of a house or her first old rag doll that had fallen apart over the years (she had missed it for a long time).

But be that as it may, Galatea dreamed of one day exalting this Legion as it deserved. And showing the entire Imperium that they were heroes and worthy of recognition like other Space Marines. Even if they were previously called “Corpse Grinders” (the Imperium harshly punished anyone who mentioned the forgotten nickname), Tea understood that war was cruel. And the fact that everyone so conveniently ignored the terrible military actions of other Legions was unfair.

Yes, she dreamed about it a lot. But with each passing year, despite her growing skill, she also understood that not everything should come true. Perhaps Galatea Vlachos would become one of the best sculptors, of which there are as many on Terra and in the entire Imperium as dirt. Perhaps she would be able to create her own school someday. To visit her native land (her grandparents had already died of old age). But to go on a Crusade on the Iron Blood? Absurd.

Then why was she here?

Why was she in the halls of the Golden Palace of Terra? Why was she alone in a corridor with Perturabo himself? He paid no attention to her, looking at the gilded statues. And yet they were so close.

How did this happen?

***

“Rejoice, my dear students! Soon you will ascend to heights that most cannot even dream of!” - Solomon Vlahos, always calm and reasonable, excitedly rushed around the office like a wild animal while all the students looked at him in surprise.

“What happened, master?” - one of the young men casually asked a tormenting question. The son of wealthy aristocrats who decided to become a sculptor. He was a good student and received the appropriate education. Tea had to work hard to make up for her past.

“Something great has happened, my boy! My friend Peter Egon Momus, you all know him as the greatest architect of Terra, has not only secured me an invitation to the Emperor’s palace…”

Everyone sighed in surprise and almost awe. As talented as Master Solomon was, he was only one of many sculptors. Only a few could get into the Emperor’s palace and Vlahos, like many artists, aspired to this. Especially at the expense of others.

“And you, my dears, will not only be able to visit the palace with me, but also to show off your craftsmanship in all its glory. Your sculptures, your creations, will not only be displayed in the palace of our beloved ruler. The primarchs themselves will see them!”

***

Galatea had been toiling over her miniatures all week. Huge statues and busts were alien to her. A life of poverty had left too much of an imprint. It was much better to use a small amount of material, but wisely. The teacher was proud of her after all. How could it be otherwise, because she was the best at it.

So she dedicated one miniature to an ancient legend of Old Earth, several to the warships of the Primarchs. And Olympia. Tea was delighted with the picts of the magnificent planet annexed to the Imperium. It was on it that Perturabo grew up. Green hills, rivers and mountains, a world clean of polluted atmosphere. As the people of Old Earth would say, it was nothing short of paradise. Surely the Primarch adored his home world.

And Galatea wanted to capture this elegant and in some ways simple architecture. Beautiful landscapes and hardworking people with a herd of animals. Perhaps she sat over this miniature the longest. And it was worth it, seeing the tears of pride in the teacher.

Of course, no one except the teacher was allowed to meet the Primarchs. And yet the fact that they were allowed to visit the Imperial Palace was already intoxicating. Moreover, they were even allowed to wander through some of the corridors! The Emperor is gracious and generous, Tea never thought she would see such beauty.

Gilded walls and magnificent statues gathered from all corners of the Imperium. Frescoes depicting scenes from the legends of old Earth. Stained glass windows in every color of the rainbow. Images of the Crusade and the Emperor himself were everywhere. One corridor among many was a work of art in itself.

But all of this paled in comparison to those who lived here. All of this paled in comparison to HIM.

Galatea had seen picts and portraits of the Primarchs, and yet to see him with her own eyes was a different experience. The girl felt her heart flutter and her breath catch at the sight of the tall man dressed in Imperial military attire. His majestic appearance evoked only one association that the fanatics of the Imperial Truth would brand as foolishness. A demigod.

Perturabo.

How lucky she was! How unspeakably lucky to see the Primarch, whom she had admired since childhood, in person. Apparently the master had already shown the Emperor's sons their works and now Perturabo had decided to return to his business. But what luck it was to meet him in such a huge and intricate Palace.

Images from her childhood, when she played with her rag dolls, immediately appeared before her eyes. Oh, in Galatea's games, the Primarch was her savior. From the poor on Terra, from the rich students of the Master, who mocked her. From failures and bad thoughts, imaginary monsters. He built great impregnable fortresses in which he protected her from villains like a princess from fairy tales. Perturabo was always her hero.

The weakest of spirits could lose consciousness or even die of a heart attack just by looking at the Primarch. Galatea considered herself weak, but apparently she underestimated her spirit strength. As well as the power of her dreams, realizing that she was heading towards a man who was completely oblivious to the mortal girl.

“L-Lord P-Perturabo,” the girl greeted the man, but as soon as he turned his attention to her, she immediately stared at his chest. “I-I am Galatea Vlahos. My master brought m-my works to the palace. And the sculptures of other students.”

“Ah, yes. I never liked Solomon’s style. Too much gilding where it shouldn’t. It’s like he threw up on them.” The man spoke the words slowly, lowering his voice to a low octave. As if the girl who had approached him caused him nothing but contempt.

The girl pursed her lips, not knowing what to say to such a remark. In truth, she partly agreed with the primarch. The master sometimes overdid it with the gilding, leaving other parts of the sculpture untouched. And yet he had talent and experience that Tea respected. That Perturabo could criticize a sculptor so openly was disconcerting.

What if he had criticized her miniatures too?

No, she couldn't bear the thought of that. All her dreams were being destroyed in an instant. If... if this was fate, Tea had to accept it. She would never reach the level of a primarch. She would cherish this meeting for the rest of her life. And yet, she would rather die here in shame than remain silent for the rest of her life. She had to try. At least to say everything that was in her heart.

“L-Lord Perturabo… I have read every book written about you. The worlds you conquered, the worlds you brought into the Imperium. The tactics you used in sieges were admirable. And the fortresses and outposts you built were crafted with perfect precision to torment the enemy and protect the innocent. The Siege of Incaladion, Bernean and Morningstar Campaign…”

Galatea felt herself choking on the words, but she could not stop talking. She wanted so much for the Primarch to understand how much he meant to her. How he and the Iron Warriors on the edge of the galaxy had inspired faith and hope in the heart of a little girl from the lower levels of Terra.

“How beautiful and yet functional all the buildings you built. And I have always admired the way the Iron Warriors rose to any challenge. Please, allow me to board the Iron Blood. I will not interfere. I understand that this is a warship. I-I have money for maintenance. I just want to capture your exploits. So that the entire Imperium knows about the greatness of the Fourth Legion.”

Finally, having spoken enough, the girl took a deep breath, trying to stop trembling. She could not even imagine that she would be able to not only meet Perturabo, but also tell him everything she thought. It happened. But the consequences were much more terrible and unpredictable.

The man was silent. During the entire time Galatea spoke, he did not say a word. Tension was in the air. The girl thought that by giving in to her feelings, she insulted the primarch. It seemed that she had made the biggest mistake in her life.

“Yes” - the man's sharp voice broke the silence. - “You will serve my Legion. Pack your things. Tomorrow my servants will come for you. We are leaving Terra this week by order of the Emperor.”

Unable to believe what she heard, the girl looked up at the primarch. Even without his armor, Perturabo smelled of iron and gunpowder. He was the very embodiment of war and creation. But most of all, in the image of the man, his blue eyes caught the girl's attention. Galatea had never seen such cold eyes.

"Thank you." - she whispered quietly, hoping not to destroy the beautiful dream with her voice.

The man only chuckled and hurriedly left the hall, clenching his fists. Galatea should have been worried about such a reaction. Suddenly, she insulted the primarch or distracted him from important thoughts. But the happiness of the long-awaited meeting inspired her and she hurried to Master Solomon in the hope of sharing the latest news with him. He was just nearby, looking at one of the ancient paintings.

"Master, I have wonderful news for you." - the girl smiled broadly, wringing her fingers in impatience.

"Wait, wait, my dear. Now you will tell me everything, but do you not want to know how the Primarchs assessed my students?” - waiting for her nod, the man continued. - “They all appreciated your desire to comprehend art and talent for sculpture. Lord Fulgrim even declared that Octavian has a brilliant future.”

“And… what about me?” - Galatea licked her lips nervously. Surely Lord Perturabo appreciated her work to decide to take her into his service. Wonder what he said about the Olympic landscape.

“Oh, my dear Galatea, one of the Emperor’s sons will surely offer you work.” - seeing her enthusiastic smile, Solomon continued. - “Rogal Dorn highly praised your miniatures. He especially liked the way you depicted the Phalanx. Very accurately, as he told me. I almost thought about asking him to take you on his ship to capture his exploits. But I did not dare ask for such a thing. Although he was very impressed with your talent.”

For a moment, the girl felt as if the floor had been pulled out from under her feet.

“This is an honor for me.” - she really meant it. And yet, the recent event did not allow her to fully enjoy someone else's praise. - “And what about Lord Perturabo? Did he say anything? Especially about Olympia?”

“Oh, my dear, I know you always admired him.” - her foster father murmured sympathetically. - “The truth is, my dear, he liked almost no one. He criticized everyone. When it came to your turn, he did not say a word. And perhaps it was my imagination, but with each word Dorn said, he grew darker.”

“But he took me to the Iron Blood.” - the girl muttered in a trembling voice. - “I will become part of his Legion.”

“Really? Well, that means he did like it. Never mind, my dear, the Primarchs have so much to do. Surely he was thinking about a new campaign, and we distracted him from important matters. The main thing is that you have become a sculptor of the Iron Legion. You are going on a Crusade! Isn't this what you dreamed of?"

Yes. This is exactly it.

It was 999.M30. A new millennium was about to begin. It was a great era. When humanity made new discoveries and the Imperium expanded. To be born and to live in this time was the greatest blessing.

[that-random-chaos-entity]

HGHXJDJSJFHZJBEFJ

So I just had a terrifying/ Hot thought…..Yandere primarchs, emperor, and chaos gods. Just…think about it, a tiny reader trying to run and out smart these large men who want them, and it could be platonic too! Auughghhhh, I’m going to badger you with some thoughts!

Well that is

Fucking scary

But also stupid fucking HOT

If a Chaos God or the Emperor wanted you, I'm sorry. You're not winning this. You cannot hide nowhere, you cannot exist anywhere. They will find you and keep you for themselves. You would be their prized tool, their treasure

Primarchs are a bit.. JUST A BIT easier to deal with. You are, after all, SMALL in comparison. You have places you can physically use to hide from the more physical based primarchs however there are.. quite a few things against you.

Resources. All of these can and will make it to where you can't get anything without their aid.

Superhuman senses. Primarchs and Space Marines both have enhanced sensory organs. Some certainly more so than others (yes I'm implying Leman and Lion will and can both sniff you out like terrifying nightmares. I feel like Angron would as well as Sanguinius would also be very enhanced on the smelling side of things? Thoughts?)

You're fucked against anyone Phsychically able unless you ducktape a blank to you. You're just- How do you hide from something that can see through the warp to you? That's right Magnus n his fucky wucky magics.

TLDR: The idea of clingy primarchs is the same idea I have of Michael Myers: VERY big VERY territorial man who will murder and more than likely harm you as well to make sure you don't leave him

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 4)

Summary: The iron cage has slammed shut and you will never leave it.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda), possessive behavior, manipulation, humiliation, smut (finally :D), dubious consent

Word count: 2601

Finally, after a while, I was able to finish part 4. Perhaps I will write part 5 with the daemon prince, but I need some time for it. Updated the images (what I love about Tumblr is that you reblog the old version of the post, but by going to the original you can see the new version, it's very convenient). Specifically re-read The Hammer of Olympia for this one. I hope you enjoy it, it was a lot of fun to write.

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart

You still remember the first time Perturabo kicked you out because you mentioned Dorn. For two weeks he did not meet with you and did not have a heart-to-heart talk, moving away as far as possible. You thought that the primarch would do the same now, but the very next day he summoned you to his chambers.

You felt awkward for the first hour, but gradually relaxed. But still wondered why the Iron Lord behaved so strangely in the baths. Of course Perturabo was hard pressed by his responsibilities, but his sudden rage was unusual. You haven't done or said anything wrong.

Maybe he changed his mind about you? He realized that he became attached to you when a primarch should not have weaknesses. Does he see you as more than a mortal friend? Does he think of you as a sister or... something more?

These thoughts made you blush, and you hid your face in the book while Perturabo worked on the drawings. No, this is unthinkable. Of course, you knew that the primarchs had families on their planets. Parents, adoptive siblings and friends. But could they have romantic feelings for mortals?

And did you want to become his lover?

You could barely restrain yourself from jumping out of your chair and rushing around the room due to the abundance of thoughts. Feeling a strange sensation, you raised your head and with a gasp saw the attentive gaze of the primarch. You swore he could hear your heartbeat.

“Very exciting poems” - you tried to justify yourself by telling half-truths. You really liked these verses and it would be better if the lord did not know your thoughts. - “I never thought that I would love Olympic poetry about love so much.”

The primarch continued to glare at you and you shifted nervously in your chair. Did you say something bad? Since Perturabo called you, it means he is not offended or angry. But why does every minute with him last like an hour? Why is the room so hot, and the mere sight of a man makes you tremble?

“You can call me Bo.” - the primarch said quietly before turning to the table. - “During this time, I became attached to you almost like a sister. So why not make our communication even more... close.”

You smiled softly, accepting such a wonderful offer with all your gratitude. Your heart was happy. Enough time had passed to experience grief and yet you missed your parents and brothers. It was nice to feel part of the family again. Even if it is so unusual.

You involuntarily rolled your shoulders, throwing off the recent strange hot sensations. It’s as if you felt someone else’s emotions and desires that are unusual for you. But as always, you tried to brush aside the annoying thoughts and continue living in your “dome.”

***

You continued to live carefree, not knowing the sorrows of mere mortals, from time to time forgetting about the monstrous actions of the primarch. He was terrible in anger and did not value people, regarding them only as a piece of meat. He despised the weakest sons, “covered with rust” and unworthy to bear the title of Iron Warriors. He pumped out all the resources from the planets that came his way.

He had told you about his deeds before, but only the tiniest bits. Enough to frighten you and force you to obey him in everything. But you spent much more time talking about more abstract topics. Beautiful and creative. But Fulgrim's betrayal and journey into the Eye of Terror took their toll.

Now the primarch began to pour out his soul to you more and more often, sharing the terrifying methods of the art of war and enslavement. He spoke about the crimes of other legions and the warp space that you recently visited. Perturabo didn't seem to care what you thought about what was happening in the galaxies. You are just an ordinary mortal girl who will not survive in this world without him.

But you were truly frightened when the iron lord told you about the betrayal of Horus, the demons of the warp, the World Eaters and the daemon prince Angron, with whom Inron Warriors would go to their greatest battle. Siege of Terra. The man saw the horror you were in, watched as tears flowed down your cheeks and how awareness gradually came.

“I understand how difficult it is to find out all this. But nothing can be done. The False Emperor must be overthrown, and we will rule the Imperium as we deserve.” - the primarch, grinning darkly, stroked your head. - “I promised to take care of you. And I will continue to cherish you. Nobody cares about you except me. You would have become a slave or fodder for fuel in the hands of my brothers or continuing to live under my father's rule. Without me, you are a mere mortal girl, one of trillions. You are nobody. Nothing."

The man’s words hurt painfully, and yet you pressed closer to him. Thoughts swirled in my head. Your home world was far from the Solar System and yet your life was quite acceptable. You had a loving family, you did not live in poverty, and working as a chronicler was your long-time dream. Rogal Dorn brought your world into harmony, improving life on the planet and you were glad to become part of the Imperium.

But now it was just a dream. A deception. No, the primarch could not lie to you. The Imperium is rotten and sooner or later an unenviable fate would await you. The world was full of dangers and you could not resist these horrors. You would have been torn to pieces, gutted and eaten alive long ago if it weren't for Perturabo. He saved you. If he didn’t need new personal slaves, if you weren’t noticed, then you would... you would...

“Bo,” you whispered chokedly, swallowing tears and trying to calm your breathing. Fragile fingers squeezed the iron lord's tunic with force. - "I'm scared."

The man stopped stroking and you held your breath until you felt the touch of fingers on your chin. The primarch gently lifted your head, forcing you to look straight into your eyes. You could only gasp in horror and the feeling of safety next to Perturabo.

“You mortals do not obey me. You don't know what's good for you. There is no peace and kindness in this world. Only violence.” - your lips trembled and you let out a strangled squeak, feeling the grip on your face intensify. Almost possessively, the man held you close to him, never breaking eye contact. - “You promised that you wouldn’t leave me. So continue to listen to me. Love me and I will build a perfect world for you.”

You cannot stand the excess of emotions and, sobbing, bury your face in the primarch’s chest. Some part of you knew he was fooling himself. He wants to destroy and recreate everything anew just for himself. And you were part of this vast plan, a chaotic and terrifying dream, recreated from the darkest feelings of a primarch.

But the world around you was disgustingly cruel and merciless. You won’t be able to take a single step, the monsters will immediately destroy your body and mind. You didn't have anyone. No family, no friends. There are no enemies left, and the strangers have disappeared. There was no human warmth around you and you didn’t notice how you were left alone in an iron cage. Only Bo was with you. You only had him.

And if Terra must fall for the Iron Lord to be happy, then so be it.

***

He lost. The opportunity to rise was taken away from him. He was deprived of his greatest triumph. The Solar War ended in victory only thanks to Perturabo. He alone bore on his shoulders the responsibility for the entire success of the traitors while the rest of the legions indulged in senseless violence and debauchery.

But the worst thing was that Horus did not allow him to storm the Imperial Palace. He was not allowed Dorn's creation to be destroyed. He was not allowed his once beloved father to laugh in the face, who preferred another son to him. The warrior turned out to be a slave of the Chaos Gods, having lost his power and strength. And his brothers would not have been able to contribute to the war if not for the Iron Lord.

He's so tired of it. Complete disappointment. Retreating to Mars, Perturabo continued to oversee the ongoing Siege of Terra. Rage and resentment overwhelmed him and he destroyed everything that came in his way. He did not spare his creations, nor his slaves, nor his sons. He was humiliated. Again.

He hated them all. And the Emperor, and the loyalist brothers and traitors. They all mocked him. No, that will not do. The Warmaster may win this war, but he won't be celebrating for long. Perturabo will not let them rest on his laurels, oh no. He will rise above them all. The Primarch was humanity's greatest creation, but that was not enough. He needed more strength, more power. He will become a deadly deity who will crush everything in his path. All galaxies will obey him. Everyone will fear and respect him.

He will rule over everyone. And with him his Legion. And with him...

The man stopped abruptly, sucking in a breath and slowly lowering the hammer. Containing his emotions, he slowly walked towards her chambers. How long had he been trying to drown out his feelings, to deceive himself? How long and unsuccessfully have he tried to suppress this desire?

She was a fragile mortal, unworthy of his attention. But she had been a part of his life since his childhood. Crafty and smart, so kind and beautiful. She was weak, but so pleasant and sweet to the taste. Only she was allowed to see his soul hidden behind the iron. He told himself that he almost loved her like the Emperor... No, he loved her much more than his father. And the whole world.

The primarch slowly opens the door and sees you cowering next to the bed, trembling in horror. Of course, you now know about what is happening in the world and what sacrifices Perturabo makes to make your life enjoyable. Besides, you probably heard him raging with anger. Well, now you just have to calm him down.

“Bo?” - your voice trembles with surprise and you almost sigh with relief. You rise to your feet, but you can’t even take a step from the tension. - “Is it over? I-I heard how angry you were. Are you-”

“Take off.”

It's that simple. No confessions of feelings, no long conversations. The primarch did not want to wait any longer. He let you close enough to him. Why use unnecessary words when you can strengthen your connection in such a primitive but intriguing way? You freeze and open your mouth in surprise. Hands tug at the dress, unable to remove the fabric stuck to the body.

The primarch notices a blush on your cheeks. Embarrassment is an unnecessary quality, but he likes to see you in this state. It's quite charming. But he doesn't want to waste another minute. With sharp steps, the man approaches you and with one hand, forcefully tears your dress, exposing your body. You scream and try to cover yourself, but Perturabo grabs your hands, not letting you.

The man swallows, looking at your perfect forms. On your femininity. This is an ordinary human body, nothing special. He had seen naked people more than once, and females too. But you aroused him. The Emperor removed such base desires from the Astartes, but the Primarchs were a different matter. They experienced a greater range of emotions than mere mortals. They knew and saw more. But the war for humanity and service for the Emperor did not give them the opportunity to experience carnal pleasures. To become attached to mortals in a different way.

But now Perturabo no longer serves anyone but himself. And he could do whatever he wanted. With these thoughts, the man begins to touch you, no, caress you. That's what it's called. His hands on your shoulders and waist. Touching your lips, kissing your breasts and stomach. Listening to your breathing. Lower and lower until it reaches your thighs. Primarchs grew up in flasks; they were not born naturally between their mother's legs. And you... you would have been a wonderful mother to his real sons.

The man throws you on the bed and takes off his clothes. It’s good that he took off his armor first. He couldn't stand waiting that long. The primarch climbs on top of you and is displeased to see the fear in your eyes. Because of the difference in height? Women can endure even more than that, and sharing the bed with a primarch should be the greatest honor. Especially with him.

Or is it because of the blood of slaves and sons that got on his face? Still fresh, it dripped onto your body and you shuddered every time. In truth, he doesn't care. Now you are afraid, but soon you will dissolve in him and thank him for this.

Perturabo abruptly enters you, tearing you apart and looking with ecstasy at how your face stretches out in pain. He feels your blood and cannot wonder if he is your first or if your tender body is simply not intended for a primarch. Even if it's not meant to be, you have to accept it.

“Be quiet. Control yourself. I don't want to hear your screams. I don’t want to see you hurt.” - He wants it in some way. Make you suffer for what you did with him. The man moves his hips and you bite your lip. - “I just want to hear your moans. You have to beg me for it.”

The Iron Lord continues to slowly fill you, peering into your face until he notices dramatic changes. How your mouth opens slightly and your eyes close from the rush of feelings.

“Bo, I”

"You were right. I crave love. I want love. And you have to give it to me, you have to.” - the primarch accelerates, not allowing you to get a word in. “They underestimate me, but it only makes things worse for them. I am the grandest, sister. I am superior to everyone in this world. I'm not a boy, I'm a man. And now you see it. You see it.”

Perturabo leans down with difficulty and begins to kiss your neck, leaving hickeys. He remembers the sound of crunching, he remembers blood and dead eyes. It wasn't you. It was a decrepit old woman who called herself you and dared to condemn him. Daring to mock him. And you, crying with pleasure, know your place. So continue to remain at his feet and he will show you a perfect world.

The man groans and pronounces your names, continuing to whisper about his grievances and shout about imminent divinity. Until he finally fills you and sinks onto the bed with a sigh. Burying your small figure with his massive body. Completely unaware of your tears and misunderstanding in your eyes. How a drop of love mixes with true horror.

But if he saw it, it wouldn't change anything. You belonged to him. You were his and only his. The iron cage was finally closed. And now the bird will sing only to him.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 5/Finale)

Summary: You finally accept his love.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda), possessive behavior, manipulation, smut, dubious consent.

Word Count: 2426

It was an interesting experience. It's very sad to say goodbye to this story. But there will be others. You know, I thought that my beloved traitor-primarch Konrad Curze. But judging by the way I described these two, probably my favorite is Bo.

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart (I can't even describe how perfect this song is for this story)

You didn't know how much time had passed. A couple of minutes or several hours until your quiet tears turned into sobs. The Iron Lord, who had been lying next to you all this time, looked at you with displeasure. He expected you to either fall asleep or be happily drawn to him after such closeness. But the primarch’s face quickly smooths out after you speak.

"It's hurt".

He carefully examines you from head to toe. A semblance of fear flashes in the eyes. Perturabo quickly gets up and lifts you from the bed as light and gentle as a feather. All you can do is press yourself against his massive chest. Blood is still seeping from between your legs. You almost don't feel them. While belly and bones are almost burning with pain. You wanted to tear off the lower part of yourself and throw it away just to stop experiencing these torments. Your body doesn’t listen and all you can do is close your eyes and fall asleep. Hoping that you'll never wake up.

But the Iron Lord decided otherwise.

From now on you live in the primarch's chambers. According to the man, he needed to monitor your condition, and now there is no point in you living separately. You thought he would call an apothecary or a mortal physician but Perturabo was quite knowledgeable about how to treat you. He gave you the best medicine. He fed his own blood so that the wounds would heal faster. You couldn’t help but think that it tasted exactly the same as your rations.

You could already feel your bones and your hips hardly hurt. The bruises were almost gone, which greatly pleased the primarch, who could not deny himself the pleasure of touching the exposed areas of your skin with his fingertips. A lot of time passed, but the man was in no hurry to make love to you again.

The primarch was too keen on the idea of ​​trampling his main enemy into the mud and spending almost all his free time at work. But you, seeing his gaze, felt how much he longed to enter inside you again. But Perturabo waited, savoring the anticipation of the desired victory. You were supposed to be a reward for his efforts and pains, which no one appreciated.

And if the body gradually developed, the spirit was broken. There was no way you could get his behavior out of your head. How he took you. Appropriated you as his lover. He loved you. But along with this... someone else.

You've never heard this name. Didn't know who this girl was. But one could guess that it was someone important to the primarch. So important that at the moment of closeness he remembered someone else. And the worst thing was that at the same time he called you his... sister. That guess alone made you feel sick, and you desperately hoped you were wrong.

It's no wonder that you soon became withdrawn into yourself. Perturabo did not notice the quiet depression, focusing on your physical state. And of course, in his main goal in life. Creation of the Eternal Fortress. The greatest masterpiece that could break the body and spirit of his sworn brother Dorn.

You lay on his massive bed, putting down the book about architecture that you were reading with interest. But when the primarch speaks, all your attention must be focused on him and only him. No excuses. Perturabo enthusiastically told you how his Legion and slaves were completing the final work on Sebastus IV. Soon the fortress will be ready and the noble Rogal Dorn will fall into a trap. The Imperial Fist will lead his legion to destruction and will finally be humiliated.

“Who is Calliphone?”

You couldn't stand it. No, you couldn't do this anymore. You never asked questions, never contradicted him, and obeyed him in everything. Even when Perturabo lay in bed with you, you didn’t resist, although you were scared.

Silence reigned in the room. Perturabo sat at the table with an unreadable expression on his face. For a second you thought he was going to explode in rage. But he remained frighteningly calm. Moving the drawings aside, the men approached the bed on which you were lying, wrapped in a blanket. Sitting down on the very edge, the man carefully began stroking your knee.

“I see that human memory is failing you. The flaw of your kind, but how can I be angry with you.” - the primarch looks straight into your eyes with a grin. - "It's you. My adopted sister from Olympia.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat. Sister. He called you his sister when... when... You shudder and pull your legs up to your chest. Disgust and denial overwhelmed with renewed vigor. You wanted to hide under the blanket like a little child. You're almost babbling.

"It's not me"

“No, it’s you, my dear sister. Daughter of a tyrant, maiden of Olympia... Forgive me.” - the man, clearly not understanding the whole gamut of emotions, speaks the cherished words almost with a breath. With difficulty and with relief. Completely opening the soul that was closed from everyone. Giving his hearts to you alone. - “Please... forgive me. How could I think that you are nothing to me? You are the only one who has loved me all these years. Not one of my brother primarchs is worthy to spend even a second with you. Especially him.”

Bo moves closer and softly whispers your real name. Almost purring with pleasure, inhaling the smell of your own hair. You look at him in disbelief. Weren't you his sister a few seconds ago? Why did he suddenly remember your real identity now? The man carefully twirled your curl in his hands.

“The False Emperor always preferred Rogal to me. He wore his mark, built him a Palace... and he had you. He dared to hide you from me. To pick you up while a decrepit old woman lived at Olympia. Daring to be insolent to me. A pathetic replica, incomparable to the original. Frankly, now the memory of how I broke her neck brings only pleasure.” - all the primarch’s envy and irritation immediately disappear when he meets your gaze. The man takes your face in his giant hands, smoothing your cheeks with his thumbs. - “I will make them all regret it. They will all suffer. For you. And now I want you to sing.”

Perturabo climbs onto the bed and for a second you think he'll rip your clothes off again. But instead, the man slowly lifts your dress to your knees. You see his steely eyes mist and his mouth moves closer to your lower lips. Oh. You want to pull away, but the man squeezes your thighs forcefully, leaving new bruises that only recently disappeared from your body.

You feel his tongue slowly running along your insides. These were not passionate and uncontrollable caresses, but cold calculations. He knew exactly how he wanted to touch you, how to make you squirm. The primarch kissed you as if he was planning another attack. Measuring every movement, stoically and impartially. As if it wasn’t your moans that caused the pain in his crotch.

If only your soul were as submissive as your body. All this time he saw her. All this time he spoke to her. And in those moments when you were different from Calliphone, Perturabo saw you. And he accepted. Because you are not made of iron, you bend, you curve as it suits him. Melting under his gaze, not challenging him. You are a twisted memory of years gone by. A living replica, an imperfect but improved version. And you can't wonder. Is he kissing her now or you?

But your thoughts are lost as soon as Perturabo accelerates. A shiver runs through your body, you moan loudly, feeling your body relax after a minute of tension. And again you feel the heat, feeling how someone else’s tongue greedily collects your juices, not wanting to leave even a drop. You feel bad, scared and sad. But at the same time it’s so good.

Didn't he promise to take care of you and cherish you? This is exactly what he is doing now. You just need to let go. You no longer wanted to tremble and cry from horror or sadness. You wanted everything to be as before. So that he can show you his wonderful inventions again. So that you can talk again about the books you read, drink wine and eat fruits with him. You wanted to see a smile bloom on his gloomy face and if you are the reason for this. Then why are you still resisting? It doesn't matter who you are. He loves you. And you him?

The man, having finally had his fill and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hovers over you. With one hand leaning on the bed, the other grabbed your waist possessively. Perturabo carefully, almost analytically, watches your tired but pleased expression on your face. The corners of the lips tremble, ready to stretch into a smile of pride.

“I have dreamed for so long that we would become truly close. But I couldn’t even think that it would be so.” - almost growling, he touches your lips with his, tongue penetrating inside. There was little tenderness. Perturabo wanted to subjugate you, appropriate you, brand you so that everyone would know who you belong to. And you…

You kissed back.

***

This place was wonderful. Your little personal paradise. Where you can be safe and no one will ever hurt you. Bo took care of it. He himself recreated your chambers in his native Olympic style. Massive columns supported a gigantic ceiling, and the snow-white walls were decorated with golden birds. Your chambers were exactly like the golden cage you saw on the first day you met Perturabo.

He often visited you after he took care of business. The rest of the time you were devoted only to yourself. Alas, the servants could not entertain your pastime. The Iron Lord took care to rip out their tongues and eyes. Slaves should not offend your ears with their voices. Should not look at the property of the daemon-prince.

You stood on the balcony, leaning on the railing. The Fortress of Hate had the best view of Medrengard. Absolutely black buildings were buried in smoke and fire from constantly working machines. Neither the smell nor the heat could touch you. Perturabo has ensured that your chambers are well protected from the stifling surface temperatures.

You could see the Iron Warriors arriving from the Imperial world with a new regiment of slaves. Frequent guests, the Dark Mechanicum, were already leaving the residence with a very satisfied look. It appears that the meeting with the primarch ended satisfactorily for both parties.

There is no limit to the genius of the Iron Lord. Only he could create such a truly terrifying fortress world. The Imperial fists were not one iota able to create such perfection. Remembering your young years on one of Rogal Dorn’s controlled worlds, you could only marvel at your naivety.

No, you were from Olympia.

You hear the massive door of the chambers open and a menacing voice orders the slaves to leave the chambers. You almost choke on air and with incredible difficulty restrain the desire to joyfully run out to meet the primarch. But until the servants leave, you must save face.

But how happy it was to see Bo again. He has come to you! You can see him again, hear him. Feel the touch on your body. As a sister, as a lover, but you are not his sister either. To feel with every fiber of the soul his demonic presence, his divine greatness. Only when the door closed behind the last servant did you exhale. It turns out you weren't breathing all this time.

A mutated hand, blessed by chaos, rests on your shoulder. Claws gently touch your delicate skin. The blood of a primarch with rejuvenation drugs did not allow you to fade away. Bo said that you, like him, cannot grow old, cannot die. No, not just can't. Should not.

“Another world of the Corpse on the Throne has fallen. Soon the galaxy will be cleansed and you will never feel in danger.” - the mechanical rumbling voice hardly turns to a whisper. - “I remember you saying that you could become a remembrancer of Dorn. How long ago it was. But you became mine. Always was."

Oh, yes, you were his former captive from your homeworld Rudah. You will always be. You've never seen Olympia. It was Perturabo who told you about the wonders of his home world, and you fell in love with his culture. Exactly. How could you forget? Bo himself didn’t remember who you were.

He says your name. It sounded like a cacophony of sounds the most beautiful melody. You turn around and look at him adoringly. He's so handsome. Black flesh with red veins fused with iron. The once human face resembles the symbol of the Iron Warriors.

Perturabo was with you again. You will drink wine, he will talk about his grandiose plans, and then you will either go to the baths or end up in bed. Or maybe all at once. You hug the primarch tightly around his wide waist, unable to clasp your hands.

“Bo, I love you so much.”

The daemon-prince rumbles with pleasure as he allows the frail mortal girl to touch him. The claw gently lifts your chin, forcing you to look straight into the black eyes of the primarch. Perturabo kneels down to be at eye level with you.

“As always, you can’t contain your emotions, dear sister.” - the man pulls your small seductive figure closer to him. Even in his world, in his tower, he strives to hide you from everyone. The iron mask opens slightly and a long black tongue touches your neck. The skin hisses with the primarch's saliva. - “But enough words. It's time to get down to business."

You just smile happily, holding back so as not to moan at the top of your lungs. The personality is bursting at the seams, sticking together again like plasticine, as soon as Bo tells who he sees you. Whom does he desire right now or in the future.

And you will be anything for him.

[kit-williams]

*grabby hands* primarch breeding/ pregnancy kink p l s

Its that week for the community time to pay your taxes /j

Horus' lover accidentally said it's too quiet around when he's gone ✨️

(Cat/ lemon russ)

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

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

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @remembrancer-of-heresy @felinisnoctis @solspina

@the-californicationist

tw: I guess the soft/light yandere with how I write Horus; again smut

Perhaps you were jealous of how the Lady of the Iron Warriors could always stay with her husband perfectly safe. Though it made sense after all how safe the mistress of the siege was. But you? You had to stay until you could be summoned or till he returned to you which left you long lonely months without your husband or worse you fear given how the Great Crusade was going in certain parts it could be years given how some Primarchs do compliance... Perhaps that's why the Lord of Iron keeps the Lady of Iron close you once more jealously think.

"Should I tell Rogal that something in the wall has offended your sensibilities?" That warm voice flows over you as you are wrapped in his aura like a warm hug. Horus' aura felt like the wolf pelt on his armor was draped over you... it was warm and you could easily be smothered by how large it was.

"No... I just was thinking." You sigh as you wander over to him and feel the physical warm embrace. You couldn't wear anything to bed if Horus was joining you given how hot his body ran.

"What has got you thinking?"

"How I will miss you when you leave." You say with a sigh, "How much I will miss you... how I'm jealous of the Lady of the fourth given she can stay with Perturabo."

Horus chuckles, "He would get so sour without her around for more than a few months."

"How do you manage?" You ask looking up into his bright honey colored eyes.

"It's very hard but I know if I can finish the fighting quickly then I can get you to join me."

"Just it gets so quiet when you're gone." You lean against his arm as you pet his chest slowly feeling the way his arms wrap around you tightly.

"I'm sorry it gets quiet." He says in a whisper and you smile softly looking up at him with a loving look in your eyes but you blink looking at that intense look in his eyes. The tearing of fabric meets your ears just as your bare back meets the bed. Your head spinning as Horus moved you too quickly for your brain to comprehend that you moved through three rooms in a blink. "How about I make it up to you? I'll give you something to keep you busy." He says with his hands running down your waist before he snatches up the lube.

Excitement rushes down your spine as you try to slow him down and yet you're excited for the burn of the stretch aided by the lube... the slight discomfort that comes with him pushing his cock inside of your well trained body. Made for him as he often says and you shiver at the thoughts of his deep voice telling you how you were made for this moment... made to scream under him... made to be his perfect little partner... and while you didn't believe in a higher power you believed him. Screamed his name out instead of some deity as he easily took its place in your life... though that did change when he was away.

He made you feel so warm and fuzzy in the head. Your eyes rolling back as his hips met yours again and again... you ignored the way he was talking to someone else... were they in the room? Was it over his vox? It didn't matter what he said was all the same... The Legion Mother is feeling her usual upset before we part again. I am comforting her we will meet later... all you could do was open your mouth slightly and croak out his name.

"I'm going to give you a baby! So many babies to keep you distracted while I'm gone!" He says effortlessly without a grunt in his voice were a lesser man would have to given how eagerly he was spearing himself inside of you and it wouldn't stop until you passed out overflowing with his cum. He grinned down at you, "Certainly this time it will take!"

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The thirst to subjugate (Part 2)

Summary: You find yourself under the wing of Corvus but soon realize that his love is killing you.

Corvus Corax/fem!Reader, Alpharius and Omegon/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power imbalance, masturbation, forced captivity

Word count: 1463

Song: Hatari, CYBER - Hlauptu

@kit-williams, It was only at the end of the fic that I realized that I was very impressed by your yandere Corvus. I didn’t think it would be so enjoyable to describe him almost as Perturabo. In the next chapter there will be twins.

You always knew how to notice small details. When the pipes began to leak, small details were hidden in the shadows from prying eyes. As one of the serfs began a secret affair, the officers hid information from their subordinates. Or how one of the Space Marines often looked at the young soldiers, apparently not understanding his actions.

But you didn't think you could tell your primarch's mood. It was surprising even for you. But what was even more unusual was that he detained you. And then on other days, talking to you on abstract topics. It was as if he was trying to make friends. The thought alone was ridiculous, but you couldn’t resist it. It was so nice and cozy with Corvus.

Safely.

Although at some moments when he looked at you for a long time. Stroked your hair or hugged you. It was a bit strange. It was as if his care and desire to get closer to you were overflowing. He consumed you, craved your connection so badly.

But you couldn't refuse. He is your primarch. And he's your friend. You saw him as a brother. Desperately denying your suspicions about his feelings. But when “Alpharius” paid attention to you and you told Corvus about everything... it was no longer possible to ignore it.

You could no longer be in the serf section. Walk freely along the corridors. Even carry out your usual duties. Corvus said it was dangerous and he must take care of you. The Alpha Legion is alarming and they will probably want you. You never asked why his brothers brother needed you.

“But Corvus, what about my family? My parents, younger siblings, my friends. I can’t leave them.”

You pronounce every word firmly, putting a clear meaning into them. You are glad to be friends with Corvus. But he shouldn’t take you away from your family, or appropriate you as a thing. He's a primarch, he can do it. But if he values ​​your friendship, if he values ​​your connection, then the lord of the Raven Guard will retreat. But Corax’s face takes on a martyr’s expression and you want to howl from the melancholy that suddenly washes over you.

“But aren’t I your family too?”

His voice slides through your insides, opening your veins. Suffering and pain fill your soul with warmth. You want to get rid of these emotions. They are not yours. You whimper, allowing the primarch to embrace you, wrapping your arms around his massive shoulders.

“Of course you are my family, Corvus.”

You can't say no. You can't resist. You allow yourself to be surrounded by care and love. Hide in the dark, away from the light, where the monsters lurk. Corvus promises to be your savior, and you want to believe.

Your new chambers are so different from your previous life. It's spacious here. You never thought you could live in a room like this. But it's so empty here. There is no usual laughter and conversations. Human warmth. These chambers are yours and only yours.

It was warm at home. The darkness was dispelled by the light of bright lamps. You constantly heard the sounds of the ship working. A pleasant feeling of something alive, even though it was made of metal. But in the new chambers, even the smallest sound becomes loud. There were few lamps here and they were switched off according to a schedule. The portholes were not intended as security. It was almost always dark here. And it's cold.

You didn't have anyone. You haven't seen the serfs, the servitors. There were no Space Marines here. You only had Corvus. He made sure to get you food and clean clothes without using other people. Without drawing attention to you. The most important thing is that you had him and you could spend time as before. You even had too much time now as he once said.

It was suffocating. It was scary. This tormented you and you didn’t notice how you began to feel depressed. But even in those moments when you really wanted to be alone. Corax was nearby. He stroked the top of your head, wiped away your tears and cooed. Cooed over you like a crow over a baby bird. Saying that you will be safe here.

And you so wanted to fly away to freedom.

***

You were drowning in your bed. It was too big for you. All black and disgustingly soft. And too many blankets and pillows. It's like a nest. But you almost liked it. They enveloped your little body so much. As a child, in the most terrible moments, you always hid under the covers. And it seems as if your bedroom should become a real fortress against nightmares. Not a single monster will be able to see you under this heap of fabric.

But he sees you.

Watching.

Waiting.

You snuggle up to the pillow at the head of the bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. You need to close your eyes. Need to hide. Run away. But you can't help but look. The chambers are pitch black and yet you can see it sitting at the far end. Hunched like an old man, it was huge and feathered. Black eyes that your brain shouldn't see shine brightly in the room.

But worst of all were the sounds. Heavy breathing, which the monster tried to hold back behind clenched teeth. But it still echoes in your brain. As well as obscene sounds of self-pleasure through clothes. It doesn't touch you, but you still feel so helpless.

When did it start? You couldn't even count accurately. It’s just that at some point you realized that while you were sleeping you weren’t alone. You were being watched. It studied your peaceful face, listened to your breathing. It touched you with their eyes.

And once, when you were lying half asleep, you clearly felt a hand running along the curves of your body. How someone else's nose buries itself in your curls. How it licked your open shoulders and neck. It almost kissed your lips but then stopped as if it was too soon. And this terrible heavy breathing.

You wanted to wash away this terrible feeling and convince yourself that it was just a bad feeling, fear of the unknown, stress. Anything! Just let it not be real. You should be safe, not afraid of anything. 

Corvus promised you! He did it. He took your life and you believed him. But why are you scared? Why do you tremble like this? It's not fair! He promised to save you...

From others, not from himself.

A long groan is heard in the chambers and the lord of the crows finally unleashes its lust. If before it came when you were sleeping, now it watches you while you are awake. But everything is also in the shadows.

You whine in horror and perversion. It freezes and rises sharply. The haze in its eyes dissipates and it tries to curb his inhuman nature. You hiccup from such changes. Doesn't he understand that you see him? That it is hidden from the eyes of other people, but not from you. You know what it did, you know what its thoughts were. Thoughts that he cannot turn into reality. For now.

The Raven Lord rushes towards you and you whine and cover yourself with a blanket. You hunch under the fabric, pressing one of the many pillows. Animal fear has curbed you and you are trying to bury yourself. Further away. Deeper. Where he won't get you.

And still you feel his clawed paws on your body.

“Hush, hush,” the primarch cooed softly, as if he was not the reason for your behavior. - “Everything is fine, you are here with me. No one will touch you or offend you.” - you think you hear the rustling of feathers.

"C-corvus, please" - you desperately and quietly sob. -"Stop it. I beg you. Y-you said we are family but I'm scared."

You sniffle and burst into tears that have been accumulating for all the time he... loved you from a distance. It was unbearable. But Corvus didn't think so. You felt him smile tenderly, touched by your hysteria.

 “My dear, don’t cry, don’t be afraid. You're safe. And if not, then I will hide you even further.”

Corvus presses you to the bed, hugs your body. And you become unbearably hot from his mass and the blanket. But you won't dare to show yourself. You are again a little girl who is afraid of monsters. Only this time the monster loves you. The cold voice in your ear sends a flock of chills down your spine.

“No one will find you.”

But he was wrong.