#yandere ultramarine

[kit-williams]

Yandere 40K Guilliman is very interesting to me.

Because he’s just trying to find someone sane, someone who doesn’t fall into a religious fervour whenever they see him. Someone who can use common sense, an ability nearly 90% of the imperium seems to have lost.

But when he finds that person, someone who doesn’t immediately start sucking up to him in his presence, who will actually call him by his name, ‘Roboute’…..

Well then they’re his.

There going to be his reprieve, how he takes out all his anger and stress that’s accumulated from seeing the sorry state that the Imperium has become. He’ll release all that pent up aggression by fucking his new paramour unconscious. By taking brief breaks between his endless meetings with them in his lap, taking whatever liberties he wants with them.

There no other course of action. He is the Lord Commander of the Imperium, and if what he needs to handle the problems of the Imperium and lead them to victory is to have this one person stay by his side, then that’s what he’ll get.

It won’t be all bad, his paramour will be treated to an unpredcented life of luxury, all they have to do is ignore the fact they now solely belong to Guilliman and that there is no changing that fact of their new reality.

This is EXACTLY what I was hinting at with mentioning about 40k yandere Guilliman. His playfulness is still in there he wants to woo you like he normally would he's unhappy with how he has to get you by his side but he NEEDS an outlet! He needs someone to fixate on because he's running himself ragged.

He was in hell. As he was trapped in his armor most of the time... stuck with insane people all around him! Anyone who dared have some semblance of a spine around him were far too important for him to sink his teeth into. He was stuck... he was lonely... he was tired...

And then you came along. You were in awe but you kept it in check... you listened to him and unlike the fear and confusion at his more atheistic sentiments you hardly reacted simply replying "You're the God Emperor's son of course you don't worship him. Besides you know better than me." You were being humble and normally this would rouse such a playful response from him like a large cat playing with its meal. But he had no time for this.

You flitted in and out of his life and eventually his mind thinks of you often. Thinking over the words you say to him... thinking over the way you smile at him... the way you laugh; sometimes you even laugh completely unflatteringly much to your embarrassment. You accidentally seal your fate when you see him outside of his armor of Fate and the joy in your eyes as you gasp with delight, "Roboute! You're out of your armor." It was the first time since being allowed to call him Roboute that you used it.

You damned yourself by having your eyes sparkle seeing him out of armor... looking at him like a man...

You whimpered into his mouth as you try to wriggle free suddenly feeling the weight of his focus on you. Those blue eyes of his looking at everything like a mad man. He keeps apologizing as his face rubs against yours... rubs into your skin... you've seen this face a few times when he's pushed to his limit and you try to calm him down... you're crying by now... he keeps apologizing.

He needs this he tells you... he begs to a piece of comfort between your legs... perhaps if you knew what was to follow you wouldn't have been fooled by his just plea for feeling like a man. You might not have agreed to treat him as you have been... perhaps if you rejected his offer you'd still be free... you doubt so... you weren't anyone highly important that should you go missing things would collapse without you.

You're certain if anyone knew about you... they would simply thank you for your service to the Imperium.

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

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

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

[kit-williams]

Oh we waltzed right into that trap but I mean he couldn't let us just go and be taken by someone else... I don't think his little blueberry heart could take that... take that someone else could love us like he could.

God I can't wait till we're just tied to the bed and really just used to be vented at.

part 1 of 2

Author's note: Hi! So multiple of you, COUGH @bispecsual COUGH incited the yandere Guilliman brain fungus, so here. This first part is mostly build up, the second half will have all the romance I just didn't want to make this some massive blob of a post with tons of timeskips. Enjoy.

Summary: Guilliman falls for the one person who's treated him like a man, and wants nothing more than for you to never leave him.

Relationships: Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive relationship and Guilliman using his power to manipulate and trap you, I don't have to tag age difference do I?

Word Count: 1837

Guilliman looks over the morning skyline of Macragge and takes a deep breath, before sighing.

He's pleased that it still looks familiar, after all of these years. Even if so much of the galaxy he once knew is almost unrecognizable. However he can still feel that even Macragge has also been brushed by the necrotic touch of this modern Imperium. It's inescapable now.

At least the view is still so peaceful. He enjoys this moment of quiet, before he becomes bombarded with every aspect of his Legion, and of the broader Imperium. He's surprised they've yet to begun doing so already.

It's just endless, all of it.

He can hear the hum of machinery and the droning noise of people speaking even at this early hour, and he partakes in it a moment more before he hears tiny footsteps behind him. Odd, no one comes to this area that he knew of, it's why he chose this spot.

When he turns to investigate, you spot him at the exact time he does you.

He doesn't recognize you; You're wearing ornate clothing befitting of someone of a higher stature, but your face is completely foreign to him. You completely freeze in place, and Guilliman supposes it's understandable. Your neck doesn't have to arch as severely to look him in the eyes from such a distance, though you still have to slightly.

Guilliman glances over you once more and notices you holding a myriad of parchment and other things in your arms. Study material.

He's stolen your spot, it seems.

"I should've supposed this place was already taken," He glances away for a moment and back towards the horizon. "It gives a good view." You look up at him, and he assumes you're surprised by his speaking to you. Many are, it makes even the most basic of communication frustrating now.

"...Yes, it does." You watch as he shifts slightly to the side, allowing you to come closer- if you choose.

As with most other humans in this modern Imperium he expects you to vehemently apologize for some imaginary offense against a god, to prostrate and kiss the floor before leaving him alone with his thoughts; Which leaves him surprised when you do not.

You hesitantly step closer, enough so that you can touch the railing that he also has an armored hand rested on. The Armour of Fate's gauntlets are ungainly and monstrous in comparison to your own hands, even as they rest so far away. Much of him is that way, towering over someone of the same species as him as he looks downward.

"I imagine it must be nice to see it again, after so long away."

He doesn't answer right away, and instead thinks for a moment.

He does miss many things, most of which are long gone- His mother, his real father, his brothers- but at least he can still enjoy the sunrise of his home after all of this time.

You however seem to take his silence as some sort of offense, and quickly begin to revert into speak that Guilliman has become more used to hearing from others in this recent time.

"I am so sorry Lord Guilliman, I-" He cuts you off before you have a chance to scurry away into a nameless mass of faces who have never given him this time of day.

"By all means, continue. I," Guilliman pauses for a moment. "I appreciate the casual conversation. It has been many years, and I would like to continue, if you don't mind."

You freeze for a moment, before Guilliman can see you noticeably relax. The fear of repercussion is gone from your mind, for the time being.

"Then, Lord Guilliman," You purse your lips for a moment, wetting them. You look out towards the sky, and he almost follows your gaze before he looks towards you upon hearing your voice.

"Do you think it's going to rain?"

Guilliman shifts in his armor, and for a moment laments that he still feels tired from his last attempt to take it off, before becoming lost in thought.

He never ask where you were from, that day. Or any of the meetings after. He had been so distracted by just enjoying his moment of humanity, that he'd forgone asking. To think he would be so distracted by such a menial thing, so drawn into someone who gives him something seemingly so simple.

As it has become a routine, and you've gone from nearing shivering from nervousness to smiling at him and laughing. He says plenty that is amusing to you, it seems. There isn't many moments now where you chest isn't shaking with silent laughter. He comes to you feeling at the end of his rope, and then leaves the place you both have claimed as your little secret smiling.

He oh so enjoys each little moment. He feels human. You just look at him, you don't look at his creation and his so called divinity.

He feels like Roboute. Not Lord Regent.

It's when he's leaning over this holotable, glancing around at thousands of little dots of interest, that he speaks the question to the man closest to him. Where you're from, your history. He wants to know anything there is to know.

When Guilliman speaks your name and description for clarity, of which he recollects perfectly, the Imperium priest is confused for a moment. He doesn't dare question why Guilliman is so interested in someone so seemingly random, and eventually collects himself enough to speak.

"Well, Lord Regent..."

Your father is in Macragge's high court, he says. He says his family name, but he can't put a face to it. They've either never met, or he put too little impression on him to bother remembering. Either way, he hums.

"Bring her here. I have something I wish to ask of her."

He freezes once more, for a moment. Though Guilliman takes rare enjoyment in his perceived godhood that the priest doesn't dare question such an odd request, and quickly scurries away to go fetch you.

In the moment of solitude, Guilliman continues looking at the holotable despite not absorbing any of it's information.

He is not going to let this opportunity slip him by.

Out of his short while in this new Imperium, he has found no one able to give him even a fraction of the feeling you've shown him. Even in this short time he knows that you are the one he wants beside him as we wades through all of this horror and mess, and he'll give you whatever you desire- or do whatever it takes- to keep you there.

He refuses to let this slip him by. He refuses to let you slip him by. If the universe won't give him his happiness, then he will take it himself. He deserves to be selfish just this one singular time.

He can hear the multiple footsteps before the door opens, and he's prepared himself to see your face again.

He needs to stay the way you know him. Any slip could mean you back away from him, and he doesn't know if his heart could take it after you've given him so much hope.

You stand between multiple guardsmen, your hands knit tightly together at your front. You look more on edge than when you'd first met, and he supposes he shouldn't be surprised. They probably just demanded you come with them to meet the Lord Regent and told you little else.

You could be going to your execution, for all you know. These guardsmen and his men in particular, whom you will be dealing much with shortly, lack the gentle finesse needed to treat someone like you properly.

He will treat you properly. He will make anyone you know pale in comparison, make the suitors you surely have fall to the wayside, once he bestows upon you a position and the respect you deserve.

He's in need of a diplomat. Or anyone that can adequately serve the role. He has little care of if you come from a family of such, you have the eloquent speech and attitude he needs for such a role. Your interest in languages and kind smile will help him momentously in repairing Ultramar in it's currently fractured state.

At least, that's what he tells himself. He knows that if he doesn't get you now, you might end up elsewhere, tasked under someone else and lost in the sea of the Imperium.

And he refuses to let you go.

"What do you need of me, Lord Guilliman?" He looks to you, and it's hard for him to keep his stoic expression.

"I suppose since we are familiar with one another, I can forgo the formal speech." He looks to the men that stand beside you, and the astartes that stand guard in the room as well.

"You all may leave. I wish to speak in private." The guardsmen leave without issue, but his men look at him oddly for a moment, before nodding their heads following suit. Once the door behind them closes, you step closer without the suffocation from his men all staring at you.

"I hope you do not mind the change in scenery; I know this is quite different than where we usually meet." His waroom is legions different than the gentle balcony where you both usually meet, though he hopes sending his men away calmed your suspicions a bit.

"But now that we are alone, I wish to speak with you." Guilliman glances away for a moment as he formats his words, trying to find the best way to voice his thoughts without startling you away. He has you so close, you can't pull back now. He won't allow it.

"I am in need of a diplomat. One that will serve at my side. In our conversations you have shown to be nothing short of the intelligent and kind woman I would need for such a role."

Your eyes are wide, and he sees the knot in your throat bob as you swallow. "Will you accept the offer?"

He knows you won't refuse it. He phrased it as a question, but no one would ever deny such a offer from him. He knows from your private conversations, you telling him of your passions and dreams, that you've longed for such a role. He'll give you exactly what you desire, and it brings you all the closer to him.

"I, I would be honored, Lord Guilliman." The moment those words leave your lips, Guilliman resists the urge to sigh in relief. Even though he had not a doubt in his mind you would say yes, it still makes his heart race.

He knew you were the perfect person for this, the perfect one for him- he would've hated having to use force in order to show you such, he doesn't want you to fear him the way others do.

"That is good." Guilliman smiles softly, and gestures for you to come closer with his left gauntlet.

"Then we have much to go over, if you would stay with me for awhile."

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕭𝖑𝖚𝖊 & 𝕽𝖊𝖉

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: This one was a roller coaster to come up with.

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

TW // None.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°|

“Thanks Joe, you’re the best.” I sighed, tippy toeing up to take the warm cup of coffee from the older man in his trailer. 

“Ahh, don’t worry about it!” He said, waving his hand at me. “It’s on the house yeah?”

I hummed, settling back down on my feet and carefully took a sip out of the disposable cup. Groaning when the warm liquid ran down my throat, warming up my body. The bitter sweetness sedating my morning hunger.

“You are still the best.” I huffed out, seeing my breath in the crisp, dawn air as I brought my lips back down to drink the liquid once more.

“Hey, slow down with that!” He waved at me. “Don’t want you to have a stomachache now. You’re one of the best here!”

“Awww, is Mr. Holder admitting something?” I teased him, taking another sip out of my coffee, but slower. Taking his words into consideration. I really wasn’t in a mood or position for a tummy ache.

“Aaah, I swear you guys are addicted to those things.” He huffed, preparing another order for someone else while he flipped some food in a pan as it sizzled.

“Geez, I hope not.” I said, looking down at my cup like it cursed me. My radio giving me some static. “But you do make the best coffee around.”

“Don’t flatter me, youngster.” He countered, putting ketchup on the order. “You know I make the best coffee.”

“That you do.” I agreed, raising up my cup for him. Taking yet another sip out of it and answering my radio. Getting details of an ‘old wild lady’ that's been refusing to get back into her home with her nurse.

“Well, I guess I'll see you around Joe.” I sighed, putting my hand in my jacket pocket to find the car keys. “Duty calls.”

“I’ll see you around, Sergeant!” He yelled out to me while I made my way towards the police car. Finally, getting the keys out of my pocket and unlocking the car with the keys and a beep.

Opening the driver door, I plopped right down in the seat with another sigh and placed my cup in the cup holder before closing my door and putting the key into the ignition. The vehicle starting up with a soft rumble.

Rubbing my hands together, I blew into them and shivered before turning up the heat in the car and moved the vents towards me. Geez, who decided this morning was going to be this cold?

Putting a hand on the wheel, I put the other hand to shift my gear into ‘reverse’ and looked backwards before pulling out smoothly. Turning my torso back around to look in front of me, I shifted my gear to ‘drive’ and slowly drove up to the stop sign to get out of the parking lot.

Flipping on my blinker, I looked both ways. Watching for a clear spot before driving off onto the mainroad and made my way to the old lady’s address. Picking up my cup and taking a sip out of it while I was at it. Warming up my body once more.

Stopping behind another police cruiser. I put the car in park and observed how this situation was playing out for a moment. Shifting and preparing my vest.

There was, in fact, an old lady dressed in a white floral shirt with a light brown crocheted denim-jacket and a beige crochet skirt with beige tights and black loafers on, waddling up and down the sidewalk. Cursing up a storm to a cop I never saw in the division. His hands coming up in surrender as the old lady stalks up to him, waving her wooden cane at him.

It honestly was an amusing sight to see. Well, until she started wacking him with it.

Stepping out of my car, I closed the door behind me and walked towards the very agitated granny. Shifting my vest more comfortably, resting my hands on the neckline of it.

“Whoa there Ms. Would you mind not hitting my fellow recruit here? It is a crime you know.” I stated, stopping just short of her, not wanting to get thwacked by her cane next.

The lady huffed, glaring at the young man and settled her cane back to the ground. Grumbling underneath her breath.

“You see, that man!” The lady started, lifting her cane back up and pointed it at a man on her house porch that was getting talked to by another officer. “He’s not supposed to be here!”

“I’m your nurse!” The man suddenly yelled back. “I come here every Monday, Wednesday and Friday!”

“Why isn’t he supposed to not be here ma’am?” I asked, shifting my weight as she turned her sights back onto me.

“My Marine doesn’t like him!” She said, wobbling a little in her shifting steps. “Been seeing things that were there, but now they're gone. Stolen!”

“And you believe he’s been stealing from your home?” I questioned, watching as another police cruiser pulled up to the sidewalk behind the lady.

“I know he’s been stealing from my home! Necklaces, bracelets, rings, all gone!” She grumbled, stomping her cane into the sidewalk. “That hoodlum has been stealing from me ever since he was hired!”

“I have not!” The man yelled back, throwing his hands up in the air. The officer over there giving him a verbal warning.

Sucking on my teeth, I watched the officer from the cruiser jogging up to the little group.

“Hey, I can take over for you two. Figured you needed some time to get your new boot situated.” Officer Duran said. Wait, new boot? Looking to the younger male to my left, I observed him more closely. It was no wonder I didn’t recognize him the first time.

He was a young male possibly in his early 20’s or 30’s. No taller than a teenager. Brown eyes and golden brown hair in the style of an undercut. Clean shaven too, but boot? Since when?

“Yeah, Sargent Zavala picked you as a candidate.” Duran informed me, turning her attention to the lady as I gave a ‘huh?’

Shouldn’t he have come to me beforehand and ask me about it? Did I accidentally agree to something I wasn’t aware of? No, Zavala wouldn’t do that, would he? Only one way to find out.

“…Come on then, boot.” I gestured to the recruit to follow me. “Let's get you properly set up.”

“Really? You don’t look too thrilled to have me as your recruit though.” He speaks, quickly following me to the cruiser.

“I’m not.” I huffed, pulling open the driver door by the handle.

Briskly entering the doors of the department. I headed straight for Zavala office. Nearly bumping into several people and Astartes alike.

“Sorry there big guy.” I grumbled, sliding past a blue ultramarine and into Zavalas’ office where he sat, looking through some files as gently as I could, closed the door behind me.

“Since when was I to be assigned a boot?” I immediately started, folding my arms. “I don't recall signing up for one.”

“That right, you didn’t.” Zavala confirmed one of many of my concerns, plopping the files he had in his hands on the desk.

“Then why did I get a recruit assigned to me?” I asked, leaning all my weight to one side. “I’m a Sergeant not a training officer.”

“I know that, but a recruit was assigned to you because I believe you can train him well.” Zavala spoke, leaning forward in his chair to place his arms on his desk. “There were also more recruits that came in and they need their training.”

I huffed, not liking that he was right as he made a rather good counter on that one. Can’t leave the recruits untrained. It doesn’t make the department or the people inside look good.

“And Xerxes is to accompany you on your patrols.” Zavala said, pointing past me.

“Who? What?” I questioned, turning to look out the window the Sergeant pointed at, spotting the Ultramarine that I swiveled to get into here. “A Space Marine? Why?”

“Considering your latest… lost. He’s to monitor your health.” He responded, picking up another pile of papers on his desk and tapping them on his desk. Stacking them nicely off to the side.

“You think, assigning a Space Marine and a recruit to me is to help me?” I scoffed, unfolding my arms. “To replace that?”

Did he think I couldn't take care of myself? That I wasn’t capable of this job?

“I am not asking you to replace what once was. I am asking you to train a recruit and watch your health.” Zavala sighed, standing up from his desk. “Don’t think I haven’t seen you pulling extra.”

“I fought in battles. What makes you think I can’t overcome this one too?” I asked a little too quickly for my liking. My eyebrows scrunching up at the many thoughts going through my head.

“This is not about fighting battles, Sergeant.” Zavalas’ tone dropped, his chestnut eyes sternly looking at me. “This is about your health and your job. Not a war, not a battle. Your job.”

I couldn’t say anything, knowing he was right. Yet it still hurt to think I must be babysat by a Space Marine. That I looked like I couldn’t take care of myself. Though, it was my problem.

“I just– .” He sighed, closing his eyes, coming over and placing his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t want our best to fall.”

Those words should have soothed me down, and they did slightly, for being the “best,” but I kept thinking that he could find somebody else to do it. Find someone else that was better. That he could do their own damn dirty work. That I know I wasn’t the best, but at the same time it was my whole career. It’s all I ever known and be best at.

I twisted my tongue and bit down on it, shutting myself up to avoid anymore of my stupid thoughts. I know I wasn’t in the best of health. How could you not? How could I not?

“Go and meet Xerxes and give your boot a chance, Sergeant.” Zavala said, patting me on the shoulder, telling me that I was dismissed despite us being the same rank as one another.

“I’ll be watching your progression.”

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Destiny

Summary: You desperately try to know if Gods exist. Chaplain Erebus wants to enlighten you.

Erebus/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, possessive behavior, manipulation, noncon

Author's note: so it's finally happened... God-Emperor, forgive me (no)

Word count: 2666 (lol)

Song: Enigma - Sadeness (Part I)

Sade, dis-moi Qu'est-ce que tu vas chercher? Le bien par le mal? La vertu par le vice? Sade, dis-moi Pourquoi l'évangile du mal? Quelle est ta religion? Où sont tes fidèles? Si tu es contre Dieu, tu es contre l'homme Sade, es-tu diabolique ou divin?

The Imperial Truth is the only truth in the galaxy. All must adhere to it and bring its light to all corners of the universe. If anyone dares to resist or dispute it, then they are not worthy of living. Billions lived with this truth. You lived with this truth.

But for you, these were just words, a tyrannical law that all worlds were forced to follow. Perhaps there was something wrong with you, otherwise how could an ordinary citizen of the Imperium have such... heretical thoughts.

But what happened was. You did not say them out loud, did not try to change people's minds. You simply lived in your vacuum, a safe environment. Even when the Emperor announced the creation of the Order of Remembrancers, you felt nothing. Your talents could have been revealed with new strength, you could have become famous, glorified the Legion, but you did not want this. Why, when you do not believe in the truth.

If it was the truth at all.

And yet your Master Librarian gave you no choice and deliberately obtained permission for you. As if you were a slave without will. But your Master assured you that it was for your own good. It was your destiny to be part of the Crusade.

But you were not upset for long. When you realized that you had a chance to choose a Legion, you took it. Many remembrancers wanted to join the Luna Wolves or the Emperor's Children. Quite a few wanted to join the Ultramarines. But you had another goal. Although it was difficult to get to them, as the Legion refused to accept remembrancers for two years after the triumph at Ullanor. But in the end, even the Word Bearers opened their doors for them.

You were not the best historian or iterator in the general sense. The thing is, you only studied what interested you. And if something stirred your feelings, you dove into it headlong. Your master once joked that if you had your way, you would conquer the world. Part of you wanted to say that you would.

But you weren't interested in material power, wealth, or the Imperial Truth. You were far more drawn to other things. Especially religion. Faith is an unshakable feeling, and the Emperor's desire to rid himself of it seemed almost comical. No, mankind will always seek to find God. The question is which Gods are true and which are false.

You knew that Lorgar's praise of the God-Emperor was not a rumor. This legend was not invented by evil tongues to spite the primarch. No, you knew that the Word Bearers were indeed bringing a new religion to the worlds. One that had long been ignored by the Emperor before he burned Monarchia. After that, Lorgar renounced the faith.

But even though you were not a believer, you knew that faith cannot be renounced so easily. You can't get rid of this feeling that torments your heart. Makes your soul sing and glow, fills with blessed light. You can renounce religion, but not faith. And if the God-Emperor was false, then there are other true gods.

Have the Word Bearers found them? Perhaps. You immediately thought of this when you learned about Cyrene Velantion. The Blessed Lady, whose eyes lost the ability to see after the burning of Monarchia. Some chroniclers had already met her. But it was just simple curiosity or simple politeness.

You wanted something else. To know the truth. You remember you were overcome with fear before meeting the Blessed Lady. Mercy and cruelty go hand in hand. As well as love and hate. Whatever the true deity was, it was not fed only by bright emotions. There is no order, only pure chaos. You were afraid to know the truth, for you were only a mortal girl. But you could not remain in sweet ignorance. Sooner or later the truth would come and it was impossible to prepare for it.

However, Cyrene Valantion did not preach, but listened. She could not tell the Truth, since she did not know it. And yet she listened to your fears, anxieties and doubts. She did not judge you and yet asked if you really wanted to meet the Gods.

And looking straight into the portholes you understood that no, you don't want to. But the divinity won't go away from this, it won't disappear. The Immaterium that opened before your eyes captivates your mind and you regret that you only decided to look at it now.

The battle with the traitors is approaching. Horus has rebelled against the Emperor and Lorgar, along with his brothers, must give the first and last battle. To bring down the Warmaster himself. Perhaps you should have been horrified by such events or proud that you ended up on board one of the saviors of humanity.

But you felt nothing. Perhaps Horus did the right thing by rejecting the Emperor. Or maybe you were completely lost in your doubts, justifying the traitor. You didn't know. You only knew that the troubles of the material world are nothing compared to what is happening in the warp.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" - a deep languid male voice cuts through the silence and you squeak in surprise and turn around.

You had never met him face to face, but you had seen him from afar. You had heard of his influence on the Primarch. Fortunately, it was not the old and burning with hidden malice and envy Kor Phaeron. But chaplain Erebus. There was something about the man that made you want to approach him like a lamb to a shepherd… but something about his predatory eyes and gentle smile repulsed you.

“Y-yes, beautiful.” Feeling uncomfortable, you turned away from the space marine, turning your gaze back to the Warp. You did not know why, but the space behind the ship seemed safer to you than the Chaplain’s proximity.

“In truth, I was disappointed when I returned from the Warmaster. And the remembrancers have arrived here. They scurry like rats through the corridors, reveling in their uselessness. Their only role in this story is to become bloody meat,” the man said the terrible words gently, as if lulling you.

You listened to him in confusion. Of course, you guessed that the Space Marines did not like the Remembrancers much, but you did not think that one of them would say it outright. Even if he was close to Lorgar. As if he did not care. Words and actions are unimportant, and you are meat.

“But I had to admit,” his voice echoes over your spirit and you turn sharply to meet his gaze. The man leaned in, almost breathing on your shoulder. “That your zeal to touch the Gods has excited me.”

“I-I,” you gasped like a fish, while Erebus enjoyed the spectacle. “It is not what you think, I, um-”

“No wonder the Emperor exalted men. You women are so weak.” - Erebus smiled at your indignant expression and you felt fear envelop you again. - “But it is the emotionality of your gender that most strongly pushes you to worship. Beautiful servants of the Dark Gods.”

Your heart was pounding like crazy and you swallowed, trying to step back from the chaplain. Not looking him in the eyes. While the words about the Gods screamed in your head, not allowing you to think rationally.

You wanted to know the Truth. And now it is revealed right in front of you. Did you really think that everything would be so easy? Alas, but it is the chaplain who will reveal the secrets of the universe to you. The one whose face is shrouded in such impenetrable darkness that it is surprising how it has not yet swallowed the whole world.

“P-please, please, I”

“Hmm? Asking to continue? Your desire is the law.” - Erebus mocks your request, circling around you like a beast preparing to attack. - “You don’t believe in the Imperial Truths, do you?”

“I-I do,” you trembled like a leaf in the wind, looking at the floor. - “B-beloved Emperor-”

“Don’t lie to me,” a whistle pierced the air and you watched in horror as a neat cut appeared on your palms. How? Where from? - “I am your confessor and I want you to speak frankly.”

You looked at Erebus with tears in your eyes. The man was not in armor, but in a robe. His face was gentle, while his eyes looked at you with a hidden heat. You didn’t even understand how he cut you. But you knew that he enjoyed your confusion.

“N-no, I don’t believe it,” you sobbed and the man smiled even more.

“Do you believe in the God-Emperor?”

“N-no”

“And in others that you know?”

“No”

“What if I told you,” the man almost whispers, but his words sound clear in your head like the sound of a drum. “That the Gods exist? That they watch over us, are a part of us, because we created them ourselves. Where do you think they are?”

The answer did not have time to form in your head, but your body already knew where the path lies. Your eyes flew up to the porthole, looking at the shimmering purple colors of the Immaterium. Only in such a place could the Gods live. The warp itself was a sea of ​​souls for you.

“Clever girl,” a silent cry leaves your chest as you feel heavy, massive hands on your shoulders. The man's weight pressed you to the floor, turning you to the immaterial world. - “They are right there. In the Immaterium. Waiting for us to destroy the false Emperor. When we bring the Galaxy to the true faith, to”

“To Chaos,” you either ask or state. The man behind you falls silent, before a light laugh creeps through him. The grip on your shoulders tightens. You feel the Chaplain’s fingers drop to your collarbone.

“Yes. To Chaos. But serving the Gods is not at all scary, no. I can show you the truth. You can become one of many servants.” - Erebus leans down and breathes so hotly that your ears burn. - “The Skull God will grant you the desire to taste another’s blood. The Architect of Fate will show you a great future. Grandfather will grant you health, he will take care of you. And the Dark Prince will grant you sensuality, make you his concubine.”

Silence fills the hall. Short in the material world, but it seems like an eternity to you. Before your cheek began to shine with someone else's drool and a seductive promise. A tattooed hand cupped your right breast, stroking a nipple hidden under layers of clothing.

"But I would rather make you my concubine."

You break free from someone else's grasp, overwhelmed by emotion. You look into his golden eyes again. Now you know what heat was hidden there. Lust. And Erebus wanted you to see it. He let you escape because he wanted to.

"What?" - you don't even know how to weave the words together. Doubts, fears and misunderstandings wash over you from head to toe. You felt cheated. You were played with like an insect.

"I was given the power of the Astartes, but a pathetic attempt to correct my mind failed. I have never been loyal to the Emperor and never will be. I desired blood even before the ascension. Never will I be a simple soldier, but only a servant of the Dark Forces." - a deep voice fills the silence, not giving you time to come to your senses. - “And I will never stop desiring feminine beauty, as I do now.”

“You will be my concubine. My lover. My whore.” - the man almost purrs, squeezing his hands like an ancient monk. But his words are not full of holiness. - “The world will soon change, the Imperium will fall. The Chroniclers do not have long left, but you. You have always been an outsider. I will lead you to a new era. It is enough just to throw off the shackles of the old order… you will like your destiny.”

Destiny. Your destiny is to become part of the Great Crusade. So your master told you, so the Emperor called you, announcing a new decree. You did not believe that you could bring something significant to this world by becoming a remembrancer. You did not believe in such a path, you realized the lie and falsity of what was happening.

But listening to Erebus, to your horror, you realized that you believed him. You believe that this is your destiny. To accept the will of the Dark Gods, to become their slave. And to give in to the dark temptation, to let a man tempt you. For you will not be able to hide from the Ruinous Powers, and the Emperor will not take you back into his arms. You were always a heretic, you were born to satisfy your master, who deserved a small reward from the Dark Gods.

You blink, smearing tears on your face, trying with all your might to wipe away the uninvited water. No, these are not your thoughts, these are someone else's desires. You are confused, you are scared. You have no one to ask for help. And even though Erebus is a child of Chaos, he is the only one who cares about you, he will take care of you.

What? How do you know? You are talking to him for the first time in your life.

"These are not my thoughts. This is not me. I, I" - you choke, almost falling over the pressure in your chest. - "I can't think about this, n-no, this is not my fate, not my purpose."

"Are you sure? If so, tell me this straight to my face." - a velvety voice sounded very close and raising your head, you see golden eyes with horror. A deceptively gentle smile is snow-white, but you can't stop seeing blood in the corners of his lips. - "If this is true, you will easily reject me. Tell me that you don't want this."

Pain squeezed your vice. Your heart fluttered, and your legs gave way. You desperately wanted to run away, to hide in the bowels of the ship. You reproached yourself for wanting to touch the unknown. You learned about the existence of Gods. Did it make you feel better? Did you find salvation in the truth?

Unable to bear it, you fall to your knees. If before these tears were running down your face in small streams, now you were choking on sobs. Your hands desperately wanted to grab something, just to not fall into the abyss of despair. You clung to Erebus' clothes like a drowning woman, denying that he is your doom.

"See? It's not so hard to admit your place." - the man gently strokes your head, as if you were a funny little animal, before kneeling. Rough teardrop-shaped fingers softly outline your cheekbones and curve your lips. - "I have been watching you for a long time. I could have taken you for myself a long time ago. But I had to prepare my pet. All the pieces are in place, the second betrayal is approaching."

Rough hands gently undress you, gently stroking the exposed areas of skin. And you listen to what Erebus says, wondering how quickly you fell into despair. How easy was it for you to break and turn human knowledge and arts into a slave? Were the boundaries allowed, or were they always blurred, and you were just waiting for them to finally be erased? Whatever the answer, you knew that in any case, Erebus like a boy played with you.

"We must praise all the Gods." - a tongue full of poison licks your ear before Erebus's eyes are fixed on your lips. - "But for now all the worship will go to the youngest of them."

Your kiss is sensual and tender like the sting of a scorpion.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

The Soul Yearns

Author’s note: More of First Words Can Damn You. Soul Mate Horror AU in the 40k. *bold italics* means it's from Book paraphrased, to be from Honsou's perspective.

Summary: Honsou's reaction to first meeting his soul mate. And one of the people who he'll become utterly obsessed with.

Warnings: Yandere vibes. Honsou. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

You are Honsou?

That is the first words that his soul mate will ever say to him. He'd grown up in a version of hell. As a child experiment of Fabuis Bile, learning to fight, to survive, to kill, to hunt, to expect betrayal and cruelty from all around him.

So learning about Soul Mates- was something he'd only heard about in snippets from his older brothers, the bastards, were frustratingly closed mouthed on the subject.

And trying to figure out what a Soul Mate is, and what The First Soul Words are and what to expect had been information that he'd collected over the centuries that he'd lived.

You are Honsou?

Once he'd learned of all of the different things that there is to know about Soul Mates, and First Words, and how different people could be affected by them.

He was pleased- that his soul mate would know his name, would know of him. Although he wonders what the context, ever a very important context for such things.

He'd been told that he would know without a shadow of a doubt, just who his soul mate is. No one, and nothing can fake a soul mate bond. Not with how the soul pain burns, not with how the words glow and pulse in time with the heartbeat of your soul mate.

You are Honsou?

It was such a short phrase, but it was a simple one. Many people could say those words, many people had. It's a casual phrase, but no matter who said it, he would only feel a rush of disappointment that they are not his soul mate.

During one of the many battles he'd fought, a certain blue and gold clad Space Marine- with the Ultima scratched out- but the gleaming of his armor marking him out as a Son of Guilliman.

Rare is it so see one of them on this side of the Eye. And there are two- the one who'd nearly taken off his head, and his large friend who'd fought side by side with him.

"I know you," Honsou says, recognizing the warrior who'd nearly killed him.

"You are Honsou?" said Unnamed Ultramarine, for now at least. As the Ultramarine spoke those words. Instead of the anticipated rush of disappointment, he felt the euphoric rush of soul deep pain.

He keeps his face stone still and doesn't react to the pain to the best of his ability. To Show pain, to show weakness, was to be showing vulnerability to others, and that would have his older brothers tearing him apart.

He was already thought of as a bastard hybrid. Should it be known, without the Ultramarine proving his allegiance, either way, that this one is his Soul Mate.

Someone might be stupid enough to try and use this as of yet unnamed Ultramarine against him in the dance of bloody politics that the Chaos Marines, particularly the Sons of The Iron Lord Use.

*An Iron Warrior stepped in and hammered the butt of his weapon across the back of so far unnamed ultramarine's skull. He dropped to one knee, the wound on the back of his head opening once more and fresh blood soaking his armor.**

With that, his Soul Mate's face was briefly shadowed, hiding the fact- that he's likely reeling from the soul deep agony of a fresh soul mate bond.

Mine. Honsou thinks to himself. This one. He's mine. Now and Forever.

*Honsou nodded, "You know of me, but I don't know of you. What are you called?"*

Honsou has waited so long to meet his soul mate. He had wondered what faction his soul mate could be from. If they were mortal, xeno, dead, alive, or something else.

I finally found you. Honsou thinks to himself pleased as he eyes his soul mate.

"I am called Uriel Ventris," His soul mate says.

"A Former Ultramarine," Honsou says.

His Soul mates jaw jumps and clenches a little at his statement. How curious.

[kit-williams]

Okay you deserve a coherent response about what you made for me.

You captured the essence of Tulio. Our sweet weird blueberry ultrahusband. He desperately wants Psychi/the reader but is far too noble to force his will upon her... it wouldn't be right... it would destroy the image of him being the hero in his mind to this little mortal woman.

He could get her to him with a simple order and literally no one would bat an eye at his demand? Besides what's a slave want to a demigods whim?

The entirely self assured nature he has as to how it will go between them in the very end that she will be his at the end of the day is all but assured for Tulio's mind he just needs to do everything right. Which is very funny because she is a slave/indentured servant and he doesn't need to go through all this effort to woo her.

Tulio is in a state of driving himself mad and he loves it. Some sort of enjoyment at always being just out of reach of what he wants. He can see the end result and knows he could have his prize early but he enjoys the wait.

I really loved how you captured him and yes he would be upset at the waste but really it was just a matter of time until it would all be settled.

@kit-williams

Rating: M

Warnings: Bro rubs one out. In the shower no less.

I adore this metaphorical (and in this case literal) wet beast. Thank you for letting me write this I hope I did his justice.

Hot water poured over Tulio's back as he leaned into the back wall of his shower stall. His forehead pressed to his forearm, which in turn was pressed against the wall.

He choked down a little groan of delight as his hand eagerly worked his length. His eyes were shut tight, blocking out any visual distractions as he brought the image of his beloved to mind. The curves of her form, even fully clothed, drove him wild with need. But he could never bring himself to force that need on her. He loved her too much. She was everything to him.

His panting grew steadily as he breathed in lungfulls of steamy air. The frustration of being alone in the shower instead of with her was killing him.

He bit his cheek and silently chided himself. He was an Astartes, not some hormonal teen boy.

Still, his longing to feel his darling's naked skin against his was driving him mad with need.

He moaned her name into the sounds of the shower. Quiet and desperate, as if speaking her name would summon her forth for him.

He knew he could demand her presence, and she would he brought to him. But he needed her to come willingly to come to him with desire in her eyes and need in every breath.

"She will." He assured himself, "Soon she will be mine, fully and completely." His hand picked up speed as he worked himself closer to completion. Lamenting somewhere in the back of his thoughts that this load would be wasted when it would be much better spent in her. Where it could sow life and make her his even more thoroughly.

Tulio bit his lip as he began to spill his seed onto the floor of the shower stall. It's pale off white thickness mixing with the water and washing down the drain.

He stayed there a minute longer, just panting and thinking. He should bring her with him into his chambers tonight. He could read to her from that book of poems she liked.

Reaching for the water, he shut it off. Yes, that would be how he showed his love for her tonight. And soon, he turned to watch the last of his seed slither down into the piping. Indeed, very soon, he would show her all the other ways he loved her.

[wxnheart]

Request time! Hopefully I'm sending this in correct, but anyway; Any ideas on how the Ultramarines would treat the wife of Guilliman? Would they be protective, indifferent, etc. Especially if, say, this is Yandere!Guilliman - would those obsessions manifest in his sons? 👀💙

I think there are a few of the legions who would be psychically/emotionally attuned to the obsessive love of their gene sire toward his chosen spouse, Sanguinius being the best-known and most prominent example though, surprisingly, I think the Night Lords would be a close second.

The Ultramarines are... not one of them. If anything, they would be perplexed at best as to why Guilliman is so... protective over her.

Of course, they'll also be protective of Lady Guilliman by decree of their father. She is their 'mother' after all but some within his ranks have... concerns about whether or not she's more a liability than a true asset. Not to mention the fact that the High Lords could possibly use this unprecedented union to their benefit, whatever that might be.

Time will tell but for now, they trust their father's judgment and will do their best to ensure her safety...

[2lim3rz]

So it’s me again, the one who first asked about all of the emperor of mankind imagines and asks and I recently came back into the fandom. Alas all of your Yandere asks is/are amazing and I was wondering about your take on a reader escaping Yandere Emps? Like they escape and evade all of his attempts to capture them though sheer luck and will, but he still lovingly tortures them in their sleep. Anything from bribes, feral possessives, to anger, anything, and yet they don’t give in, don’t give away their location, until they let slip one tiny detail about the planet they are inhabiting.

YOU HAUNT ME ANON, GOOD JOB. SEND ME MORE EMPEROR X READER VHA IDEAS.

Your dreams were once haunted by flashes of the unknown. Of the vague and eldritch.. but now they were haunted with gold and bones. With wires sinking into your flesh and a myriad of voices all sounding deeply masculine.

"My sweet dove," it would murmur into your ears "come to me once more and I will grant you your wishes. You may walk more of my halls and explore any planet you wish to see. You will have the most luxurious of goods and the most comforting of beds to sleep upon. Only the best for you, my love." Comforting. Gentle. Tempting.

Other dreams were darker. Of oppressively opulent halls and beautiful clothes that drowned you. Of skeletal hands that tore into your flesh and a thundering voice roaring so loudly; loud enough so that when you woke up, you could not hear for minutes at a time.

"I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING, YOU THIEVING WRETCH. WHORING YOUR MIND, YOUR SOUL SO THAT YOU AVOID MY GENTLE TOUCHES."

Frightening and fearful, so that you wanted to run once more. They hadn't found you yet. He hasn't found you yet. Your dreams were always so fickle and yet you were prideful that you were somehow coherent enough to ward any thoughts of your current 'home' away from Him.

"I worry for you, my heart. I need you, I yearn for you. Even my most trusted warriors and advisors ask where you have been."

It was the sad ones that tore your heart the hardest. That made you awaken crying. You cried a lot these days anyways. Everything was so tolling on your mind. The smallest thing would send you bawling. You were only lucky to be some no body in some hive-world. Hiding in a not-quite-house not-quite-shelter.

And yet, you knew that when you awoke to Arbites pulling you to your feet and yanking you sternly to the spires above that you had failed yourself. That your mind betrayed you. What had you thought? What- Maguttol fruit. An underground delicacy that only found the will to grow on the planet you found. Something that was bitter and felt like eating snot but delicious and nourishing if you were starved.

The moment the Arbites supporting you let go, you fell to your knees only to be dragged up again by an Ultramarine the second you tried to sprint for it. Thrashing your malnourished body and wailing as if you were being burned alive.

Anything! Freedom in suffering was butter than captivity in safety! You howled your displeasure until your voice broke. Until you could do nothing but bleat out croakily. Until you were placed before the Emperor once again. Feeling the gaze of a godly thing that beheld you in mixed emotions.

Feeling the gilded cage wrap around you ever tighter as his skeletal fingers lightly lifted your chin, and mummified lips pressed against yours.

[ladymirdan]

I come with the quotes:

Honsou cant be reminded about Ventris without losing his shit. And Grendel keeps poking fun of him for it.

But it isnt just Honsou. Vaanes has lost his mind over him too:

🚧New Blorbo Checkpoint🚧

This is Cadaras Grendel. He is a scoundrel, a real war criminal.

The crime? Asking why everyone aboard the Warbreed is so fucking thirsty for Uriel Ventris. “He isnt even that cute” - Grendel pretty much.

[aesthetically0b5essed]

[moodymisty]

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 2 of ? - Part 1

Author's note: Part 2, enjoy. More severe yandere combined with a teeny tiny tiny bit of lewdness. Could I write another part? Maybe. ;3 I just wanted to keep myself at a reasonable amount of work while I take my 'break'.

Summary: Guilliman falls for the one person who's treated him like a man, and wants nothing more than for you to never leave him.

Relationships: Guilliman/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive relationship and Guilliman using his power to manipulate and trap you, I don't have to tag age difference do I?, Dubious consent, Guilliman's yandere grip gets tighter and a bit more obvious

Word Count: 2813

Guilliman and you both look over a holotable, the sickly green glow casting both of your bodies in it's light. Guilliman notices you glancing up at him more than a few times, in-between speaking.

He's more than pleased he threw everyone out of this room, to grant you both a moment of privacy. Having to maintain decorum around you is difficult, far more than he thought it would be.

"The planet is largely unmined, with some convincing, we could perhaps take advantage of all the raw material." You notice Guilliman's reaction to the prospect when you take another glance upward at him.

"I don't like that face," You joke. "You look irritated at that idea." Guilliman takes a deep breath through his nose.

"I remember this planet, from the Great Crusade. They were pompous and unmovable. Perhaps time has mellowed them." He looks at you, and watches the silky blue fabric of your dress shift against your form as you lean to one side and think.

The dress was a gift from him. One of many. He had excused it as a business expense, to match you with him and his legion in attire. It should be obvious upon first glance that you are with him, a part of the Ultramarines. Though your happiness at seeing it had fit absolutely perfect was worth more than anything else.

The necklace laying against your collarbone was one as well. The more he looks the more he realizes that you're swimming in gifts. Even after such a short period of time.

You gently smile at his comment. "Hopefully it has." Guilliman shifts, and outside the Armour of Fate, he takes pleasure in the ability to twist and turn without limits.

"There was not many planets that I could say truly made me angry; This was one of them." You raise your eyebrows while listening. "Perhaps this time with you will be different." Guilliman leans away from the holotable, and changes the subject to something more casual.

"Would you like something to drink?" He says. "You've been here for hours now." You shake your head and laugh at him, hands pressing against the edge of the holotable's frame.

"I am always here for hours, Roboute. I practically live here."

You are almost always at his side, either on new planets or on the Macragge’s Honor, surrounded by Ultramarines. Anyone you might’ve known on Macragge has fallen to the wayside, friendships decayed. You simply didn’t have the time for them, anymore.

Guilliman had made sure of it.

As for 'practically' live here, you do live here; Any attempt to leave would've been swiftly denied but any myriad of excuses. One of the positives of him keeping you so busy has been that you simply think it easier just to stay on the ship, and Guilliman knows as time passes you'll begin to think of it as home instead of where you lived before.

You almost never speak to the few guardsmen or serfs around however, as they’d been ordered to by and large avoid you, unless given a task. Your only option for company is him, or his men. You’ve spoken to Sicarius all of once, and rarely others. Many of them have yet to warm up to your sudden entrance into their lives, and legion.

You and Lieutenant Titus had begun to chatter a bit more as of late, but Guilliman had made sure to tell the marine to keep his words curt, and hands to himself.

"But yes. I'll gladly take a drink."

In this moment Guilliman is thankful he can stay out of the Armour of Fate for more than a few hours at a time now, as he pours a glass of wine for you. He is already far too large for this world, and the gauntlets would've only made such a task impossible. You speak up again as he hands you one of the two glasses, and you gently take it between both of your much gentler hands.

"I never did thank you properly for the dress." He shakes his head.

"You should be wearing attire appropriate of your position; You're no longer just a translator on Macragge; You are part of the Ultramarines, now." He continues. "And you should consider it a gift for your fine work, as well."

You softly thank him, a gentle smile on your face as you take another sip of wine. He can see the stain on your lips, before you wick it away.

He can tell on your face that you're tired, after hours and hours of this. He's sure the other diplomats don't provide very good company, especially for long periods.

But just as you open your mouth to say your goodbyes, to return to your quarters and leave him alone for hours once again, Guilliman cuts you off.

Now is a better time than any. You both are alone, in good spirits; He doubts he'll find a better time to say this.

“I do have one more thing to ask of you, before you leave.”

With a curious look you gaze up at him, the wine glass empty in your hand. You set it aside as Guilliman rounds the holotable to stand in front of you. You aren't phased by it, his physical stature and position in the Imperium no longer do so after so much time together. Yet another reason why he needs to grab hold of you tight before he no longer has the chance.

“I’m all ears, Roboute.”

You speak so humanly and casually to him, which makes him nearly smile.

He can’t wait to finally make you his.

To not have to stand a distance away, to keep his hands away from you. To refer to you with your proper title, and forgo the intimacy of your given name. His men don't tolerate you speaking to him so casually, but as Lady Guilliman, they'll have little choice in the matter.

He had wanted to do this slowly, properly, but he is so unfathomably inpatient when you're so close to him.

Guilliman takes a knee, and enjoys the feeling of being able to do so outside of his hulking armor. The action makes your eyebrows raise, curious as to why he seems to be acting so different than moments before. While he might lament his height at times, he rarely kneels in front of you, unless what he must say is of the utmost importance.

"I suppose I should be blunt," He says, before continuing. “You have been nothing but kind, forgiving, and humorous with me.”

You look at him confused, the pale green light of the holotable illuminating half of your face.

"In all of our time together, it has dawned on me that my fondness for you perhaps goes beyond just that of a friend."

You look so surprised; How innocent you are to how much he needs you, even as he says this.

“I would ask for more as to court you the way a woman such as you deserves.”

He knows from a source, multiple of them, that your family has been seeking a marriage for you. Your work and fierce independence, as well as Guilliman's sudden diplomatic proposition, had postponed it for the time being, but Macragge’s culture would eventually catch up to you.

His own proposal will put a fierce stop to that. A real one, not one for a diplomatic position. That was to simply get you away from them, off of Macragge; You being so well versed at it was simply good fortune. But for once he’s pleased with the worship his title brings him; Someone so high in the Imperium would never refuse his asking for your hand.

And if he did, Guilliman knows of more than a few other options to fix such a problem.

He also knows you won’t say no. He knows that no suitor your family found for you could ever stand next to him, and not lost in his shadow. He would refuse to allow it. You don’t know any of them as well as you do him, you’ve been surrounded by nothing but his sons for nearly a year now. Your entire life is him, his legion and his crusade.

Your few friends and acquaintances have slowly fallen away one by one, friendships decaying or their fear of misstepping around a women so close to the Lord Regent pushing them all away. Familiar faces have been forgotten, your guards replaced with his own men.

For once, he finally gets a chance to be selfish. To finally have someone he can call his own; Who will never leave him. Someone there for him in every meaning of the word, and no longer will he have to traverse this rotten galaxy alone.

“I, um,” Now of all times words have left you, and you stumble over your tongue. Though Guilliman has no need for you to say any of them.

He knows you’re going to say yes. There is no possible scenario of all the ones he has meticulously planned out where you don't.

If you some how defied the odds and did so out of some sort of corruption or manipulation, he has more than enough time to keep you held somewhere safe until you regained your senses.

Guilliman takes a hand and cups the side of your jaw, tilting your head upward. Such an angle makes it easier for the massive primarch to press his lips to your own, stiff from surprise.

Though they do soften, and you accept his kiss. Your eyes flutter closed and your hands go from frozen in front of your chest, to laying against his collarbone.

His lips press against yours harder, and you softly sigh into his mouth.

His difference in stature makes even such a simple thing require so much logistical thinking, as he looms over you. His strength makes it so easy to push you away, so he places a hand on your back to keep your close.

This moment, and many farther beyond, have been replayed in his head a million times. He knows each step to take. Each movement to pull your closer into him, and to be gentle with you. No matter how much is patience is tried as your warm, soft lips finally press against his; Your heart and breath like music to his ears. He can hear it all, now that you're so close.

You pull away for a moment- lips plump and well kissed- and take a breath but as soon as he sees your mouth open to try and form words, he swallows them. His lips press against yours again with even more force than the last.

You want this, you want him; He refuses to let you talk yourself out of it.

His massive hand trails up your thigh, slowly pushing up the bottom your dress. He reveals more and more, and he swears he can smell the way your body is calling for him. The soft flesh of your thighs is surely visible now, nearly at their apex and he wants nothing more than to place his head between them and make your cry out for him.

“Lord Guilliman?”

The Primarch quickly moves to right himself, as you brush the bottom of your dress back into form.

The duo of Astartes instead of waiting simply spoke his name as they walked in, now standing in the entrance watching their Primarch boil in his own armor.

In a morose thought, he supposes this was how Angron felt about his sons at times; The hate.

“What is it that is so important that it could not wait?”

Both men are unable to read the room, and fail to notice you with your wide eyes, heavy breathing, and the way your arms wrap around your body. One arm of your dress dropped revealing your shoulder, and you quickly fix it. The bottom of your dress catches on the soft flesh of your thighs, and fails to right itself until you quickly brush it downward.

“Lord Calgar wishes to speak with you immediately. He explicitly stated it was urgent.”

“Everything with Calgar is urgent…” Guilliman uncharacteristically mumbles.

You back away from him, and Guilliman resists the urge to grab you. He resists it purely to not startle you after so much has happened; He doesn't wish to push you too hard just yet.

“I’ll see you in a bit then, Guilliman. I should get some rest before we make it planetside.”

With little option in the matter without using force, Guilliman nods.

“…Very well. Perhaps we can continue this conversation another time.” You look him in the eyes for a moment before glancing away.

"Yes, I'd like that."

He resists the urge to let the corners of his mouth drift upwards, before reluctantly letting you leave.

Guilliman taps his armored fingers against the tabletop in a rare moment of impatience. He takes a deep breath, and his armor shifts. He can still feel the softness of your lips on his from the evening before, and he wants nothing more than to finish what he had started, no matter how much this forsaken crusade attempts to get in his way.

He knows you'll wake soon and begin your day. It will be a longer one, with hours of frivolous speech with various diplomats and dignitaries. You're far better than he at these sorts of things. In his youth he might've been a bit more patient with the song and dance, but now he has little time for it.

You'll meet him here once you're ready. He has your routines memorized, paths traced. He knows how much time you take, and if you deviate from it, he'll send someone to right your path and bring you to him. You might have more freedom than many aboard the Macragge's Honor, but only because he knows you will always return to him.

His men know to not let you wander too far anyhow. They might be neutral to you now, but they know to not allow you too far out of your bounds for too long, even if you can't see the line.

It's not as if you have much reason to leave those bounds anyhow, now. Everything you could ever want is here. Everything you need is with him. All you have to do is ask.

Perhaps for a moment he might feel guilty, to not allow you a baseline human's normal life. But then he remembers how much he's given these thousands of years, how selfless he's been, and he casts that guilt aside.

“Sicarius.”

The Astartes is at attention near instantly, and comes to his genefather’s side with his helmet in his hand and the other on the pommel of his chainsword. A perfect marine in perfect form, as always.

“Yes, Lord Primarch?” He speaks your name, gentle on his tongue. Even just saying it returns a bit of his sanity to him.

“I don’t want anywhere she goes to be unseen when she is planetside. Use as many men as you see fit to accomplish such a task.” Sicarius shifts his weight slightly.

The captain is still new to you, to all of this with his primarch's sudden idée fixe, and expresses his concerns in a rare fit of doubt.

“My lord, is that not a waste of resources for one diplomat? For what reason?”

Guilliman sighs. Of course the one time he was relying on Sicarius' stalwart dependability and devotion, he doubts him.

"Because, Sicarius," He turns, and his shoulders straighten underneath the Armour of Fate's large pauldrons. The old wound on his neck pulses; Healed and gone, but still aching like there is a ghost of the blade that killed him.

"If she is hurt, or if someone manages to kill her, then this entire Imperium can burn in the Warp, for all I would care."

The Ultramarine Captain stands stunned, more than likely shocked by his primarch’s seeming lack of care to the modern Imperium.

Though it seems Sicarius takes his words as some sort of euphemism, or joke- he's been known to make one or two, if he feels keen- and nods.

“…It will be done, my lord.”

One day perhaps the man will understand what it’s like to be so infatuated with another. Though unlikely. Sicarius is far too absorbed in his own duties and faith to look past his own boots.

But Guilliman can. He knows his future is with you. You’ll be at his side, as his confident, his lover, the mother of his sons not made on an apothecary table.

It will all happen, it just needs time. Guilliman has the ability to give you every single thing you could ever want- be it physical or otherwise- and he has the patience to wait for you as you continue to slowly fall into his arms.

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon]

Yandere Guilliman has my brain firing-

After transferring you directly into his service (you were surprised, but mostly elated that you had done exceptional enough work to ascend this far in the ranks of the Historico Verita.) Guilliman started to woo you.

It was subtle, and a terrible part of him wondered why he bothered. You couldn't refuse an order from him, after all, if he told you that you'd be retiring from your position to be his spouse, so it would be.

But you'd probably hate him for it, deep down. He wanted to ask you.

So it started with the gifts.

You were pouring over a set of ancient tomes when a servitor delivered the basket of fruit. It was expensive stuff, and you couldn't for the life of you figure out who sent it. It couldn't be Lord Guilliman, of course. That would be ridiculous. Had you forgotten your birthday?

A week later, a new set of robes was left in your chamber, heavy, rich, gold trimmed, and Ultramarine blue. You had assumed they were being given to all your fellow- no. Just you. Hmm.

The new journal, a week after that, with paper like silk, and a set of new, perfectly balanced pens. This made sense, you needed such tools for your work, and yet, something about the beauty of the pieces was... Sentimental. Whoever your secret admirer was, you couldn't afford the distraction. You couldn't fail Lord Guilliman, not after he favored you so.

They kept coming. A set of jeweled hair pins, a blanket so soft you thought it was made of clouds, a bottle of alcohol you'd been known to favor, each accompanied by a small bouquet of flowers. Your room has started to look like a hot house.

You had begun a list of potential senders. You had eliminated all of your fellow historians, none of them had the resources, or were close enough to you to develop what was clearly an intense feeling. You had also eliminated all of the Ultramarines with which you worked. They weren't allowed relationships. You had eliminated the rouge traders, nobles of Terra, and millitary personal with whom you'd had contact. That left... No one. You'd exhausted your list and were no closer to an answer.

Unless...

Oh Throne.

The memory rushed to the forefront of your mind. The night had been late, but you refused to budge from your desk until your translation was completed. This was the only original account any of you had found of the preservation of tech after Old Night, and it was intact. You couldn't stop-

The door opened. You continued to write, hovering over the ancient dictionary.

"It's very late, historitor."

The scratching of your pen stopped, the voice of the Lord Commander was unmistakable. You stood and bowed. "My Lord, I've been translating, I'm close to a breakthrough."

"You need to rest. You'll be of no use half dead from exhaustion. Come, I'll walk you to your chamber." He turned, his massive from towering over you as you scrambled behind him.

Most of the walk was spent with you excitedly updating him on your progress, he looked down at you, some kind of unreadable expression on your face. You had known him long enough to know it was a schooled neutral. A mask meant to hide intention and feeling.

When you reached your chamber door you turned to him. "Thank you, my Lord, for walking me back, I'm sure you're busy."

"Not at all. It's my pleasure, truly." He smiled at you, by Terra the man smiled at you. A strange day indeed.

There was an almost tense moment between you, your gazes meeting, his almost burning through you. You saw a flash of conflicted emotion across his face, so fast that in the dim light you probably imagined it.

He reached down, pulled your hand against his face, pressed a soft kiss to the back of it, then turned away and he was gone.

You closed the door, befuddled completely, and wandered to your bed.

Two weeks later, you kicked yourself for not seeing it sooner. A tome on the culture of Macragge lay in front of you, and you couldn't breathe.

Those were courtship gifts.

You were running down the hallway faster than you could curb yourself, brushing past guards and servants and probably some nobles you shouldn't anger and Marines and you're making a mistake a mistake that's not what it meant you couldn't possibly think he'd even look twice at you but every time you were in a room together he brushed past you he smiled at you did smile at anyone else he even asked if you had family and where they were by the Throne was he going to ask-

You nearly collided with his office door. You hesitated, barely, before knocking.

"Enter."

You looked at him, sitting at his desk, scratching away at a set of documents.

"Lord Guilliman?"

At the sound of your voice the scratching stopped and he looked up. The doors closed behind you.

"Are you well, historitor? You're flushed."

"Yes, uh, I've been running."

He stood from his desk, "Has something happened?"

"N-no." Yes.

"I don't enjoy being lied to." His tone darkened and a primal panic welled up within you. "What happened?"

You attempted to calm your racing heart. You wondered if he could hear it pounding in your chest. Probably.

"Was it you? All the gifts?"

He paused. There's that unreadable expression again. "Yes."

"W-why?"

He chuckled. "You are a brilliant historitor. One of my very best." He cupped your face in his hands and tilted it up, looking down at you tenderly. "But dear, you're terribly unobservant."

(Guilliman is brilliant but so bad at relationships. Also this is on mobile and not proof read we die like men)

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 (𝐏𝐭. 1/2)

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Ruslans’ moments in the 40K Universe.

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

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Ruslan finds his lover over 15 years and something a bit more while he’s at it.

TW // Yandere Themes.

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

Ruslan hears multiple footsteps approaching his guarded quarters. The heavy armor of ceramite rumbling the cold, stone floor under his bare feet. Clearly announcing the groups arrival as the heavy, wooden double doors behind him open up with a loud creak. Sets of armor immediately clunking around him as they flank at his sides. Something he finds himself getting irradiated at each time they flank him to speak to him. He has done nothing but be obedient and rather patient with his brethren since he has been here.

“Ruslan of the Fallen.” A battle-brother addresses him strictly, their tone heavy with underlying warning. Yet Ruslan doesn’t bring himself to care for it. If they have something important to say they can address it immediately instead of wasting his time to true matters. “Interrogator-Chaplain Zophiel has—”

Ruslan doesn’t even bother to listen to the battle-brother, his eye rolling and looking down on the withered parchment on his temporary desk. Observing the light and deep coal sketched details on the parchment.

He honestly couldn’t care less what the Interrogator-Chaplain Zophiel would want with him. He has spent far too long on this ship, and being belittled on it that his judgment doesn’t fare with him. Including his brethren’s judgment.

They all could not understand how much he had to sacrifice. How much he had to leave behind. How much he had to battle and conquer by himself as most did not accompany him. They had left him like they had left Luther at Caliban; abandoning him.

Yet, his loyalty to his once legion continuously burns at him and his soul. Blistering him; scorching him down to the very roots of his creation, leaving nothing alive for the flames to eat but its own ashes. It was like having a Salamanders Dragons Breath Flamer down his throat, scolding any tangling rot that might had taken place in his esophagus which he had a tingling feeling about that God of Rot watching him, eager to corrupt his mind of quiet despair.

He can feel how the Master of Pestilence whispers at him, prodding him through the warp of his subconscious. Promising him more what his brethren were offering him. Promising that he would not be abandoned like his brethren had. There would be others like him to confide in him. To be able to trust them, and to have his back. Unlike his legion would.

Ah, but this god could not capture his mind like he wanted nor could the Emperor of mankind. He is not bound by their words, why should he be? If they were to abandon him once they can do it again and again and again. It’s why he chooses to be…inactive with any side; becoming a mercenary between the lines. Neither chaos nor loyalist, but he does side with one occasionally, whenever the need pops up or if something pisses him off which is very rarely.

Ruslan mentally scoffs at himself, the top of his lip twitching as he twists a small piece of coal in his right hand with his pointer finger and thumb. Coating his fingers with a black layer of the coal. The battle-brother speaking to him becoming nothing but background noise to him. His Ultramarine-like speech going on and on it seems.

He was only here because he had lost something, someone long ago. They have the resources that he does not, and it drives him mad each life year that is passed without them, causing him to be more… unyielding than before. It’s how he was founded by the legion in the first place. Being all strongly yet strangely disruptive on a planet filled with the Nurgels rot.

Ruslan also had thought his legion had once liked to get things to the point and not play around and find out, and perhaps they still do. Perhaps this one is just rather talkative or training to become a diplomat? Either way, he was wasting his personal space with the marine and was growing quickly tired of it, but he knows better then to try and break the neck of a full armored brethren with others watching him so closely. It’s not possible against 5 versus 1 without his own set of armor on him. His was only in a grey chiton and a black decorative cloak that was provided for him by an Apothecary in order to confiscate his own black armor.

“Master Ruslan.” He hears the familiar, heavy voice of the Interrogator-Chaplain interrupt the battle-brother that has been speaking their useless laws to him that he already knows of. Ruslans’ head slightly turning to the side to actually notice somebody in his boring quarters that acknowledged him properly. “I see you have been… busy.”

He hums at the Interrogator-Chaplain arrival before glancing back at his sketches. His fingers still playing with the small piece of coal in his hands as he observes the drawings once more. Making sure that every pinnacle of detail he drew was not left out within them. It was something that he did to make him feel… sane most of the time. Cools the thought of the promising gifts of rot the Chaos god was pestering him with.

“They are very eccentric.” Zophiel complements his work as he gestures for the warband surrounding him to be at ease with his gauntlet. Their armored forms being a bit hesitant to do so before they slowly ease themselves. Zophiels’ dark green armored frame and bone-colored robes coming closer to stand beside him.

“Really? I would have thought you would have reviled me like the rest of your ship has.” Ruslan finally speaks, his chest rumbling his deep words of truth and question. His head not bothering to turn when the Interrogator-Chaplain puts his rather light gauntlet on his shoulder, no doubt looking down at his hand-sketched pictures some more.

“It is unusual to see one drawing the same person again over and over in different positions and poses.” Zophiel informs him, leaning a little over his shoulder to get a good look at one of his drawings in the light of a burning candle. “Not to mention perfectly nudely too.”

Ruslan briefly feels the urgent need to flip the page over. To only have the perky body of the sketch for his eyes only. He feels that it’s not right for another to look upon his work without some type of permission to do so, but then the Interrogator-Chaplain throws him off a little.

“Perhaps, you wouldn’t mind drawing out my own Angel? It is not most of the time a Dark Angel chooses to draw such visions.” Zophiel asks him with a certain tone in it the veteran knows all to well of. It puts him a bit more at ease next to the higher ranked Dark Angel.

“You have an Angel as well Chaplain?” Ruslan questions the Interrogator-Chaplain a hint off his Russian accent coming out at the word ‘Angel.’ He is genuinely curious on how a busy man like him has courted a small, loving Angel himself.

“Да,(yes,) she is very well behaved unlike you, Master Ruslan.” Zophiel hums down at him, patting his shoulder in a joking manner as Ruslan snorts at his playful hit of words. Amused by them as he wasn’t that far off, it was truth.

“Perhaps they would like to see each other, Да?” He asks, his head looking up at the Interrogator-Chaplain as he leans back in his chair. Rolling his shoulders while he is at it. Thinking of ways his little Ангел(Angel) could improve her health of socializing with another Angel.

“Perhaps, Master Ruslan, perhaps.” He hums again. Shifting in his spot, and resting his gauntlet that was on his shoulder to the hilt of his sword. His red visor looking down at him more properly. “Let’s retrieve yours first.”

This pauses Ruslan for a moment as his eyebrows pinch together in quick confusion, processing the Interrogator-Chaplain words. Have they found his own little Angel? Truly? If so, Ruslan queries’ him for the truth of his tongue. “You… you have found my Ангел?”

“Да.” Zophiel simply answers him, nodding, but Ruslan knows better than to take those words of confirmation with trust. Something maybe at play here. He is talking to an Interrogator-Chaplain: A Dark Angel of interrogation, torture and psychological manipulation. This man already has a few black pearls to show his success on convincing the Fallen like him to... repent.

“What is it that you want?” He questions Zophiel, his tone more serious, like interrogating the Chaplain himself. The skull-like helmet of the Interrogator-Chaplain tilting a little to the right in a semblance of stoic amusement.

“You know of what my position is, do you not?” Zophiel rumbles, shifting his weight. “You know what I want.”

Oh, and Ruslan does know what he wants. It doesn’t take a Neophyte to know it nor a Fallen or a pure Dark Angel, but he isn’t outright idiotic enough to just accept his fate either.

“Show me what is mine and then we’ll shall... negotiate terms, Interrogator-Chaplain Zophiel.” He addresses the Interrogator-Chaplain, rising from his chair as it creaks. Easily overthrowing the Chaplains height while the warband behind the Chaplain shifts in their place, unsure if he should be so close to their Chaplain. The middle of his chest nearly brushing up against the dark green cuirass of the Interrogator-Chaplains. His height being nearly as tall as the golden Adeptus Custodies of the Golden Throne while he narrows his eye down into the glowing, red visors of the skull-like helmet.

“Hmmm...Very well." Zophiel accepts the unspoken... challenge that he perceives him with. Never backing down from his spot as he gestures at the same battle-bother that talked his head off with his gauntlet. "Battle-brother Leon, get this fallen man his armor back on his body. He will need it.”

"Furthermore Master Ruslan, I do hope what you are perceiving is truly promising. I do not wish for lousiness in you." Zophiel continues, giving out another order with his gauntlet for the rest of the warband to leave his quarters before the Chaplain himself does, boldly showing his back to him as he walks away from Ruslan. "I even might take your little Angel as a consort myself too. If you fail that is, she is an openly beautiful little Angel to have by one's side."

Oh, Ruslan feels a spark of heated displeasure at his sudden proclamation but doesn’t move in his spot to absolutely pummel the Chaplain onto his stomach. His jaw clenching in subconscious thought as the doors behind the Chaplain ever so slowly close behind him. The warm light from the corridor mostly lighting up his quarters before the doors shut with a heavy rattle. Leaving him once more in the dark with his combating thoughts and the many sketches of his little Angel laying across his desk.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Sin and Holy

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

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

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

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

Word count: 2017

Song: Pet Shop Boys - It's a Sin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me worship you.”

[headingalaxys-spicy]

omg I've been stalking your blog for like a week and I loooove this. This here is some good FUCkiN food for my maladaptive daydreamer self. Anyhow, what about Yandere Demon Russia and Yandere Demon France separately taking a liking to a human princess/prince? It's a little plot bunny I've had but I don't have the energy to take on a new thing rn so I wanted to see how you would handle it :) You can decide whether it's for headcanons or drabbles. Maybe renaissance or medieval era, but modern could work too. I couldn't track down a rules post on your blog so I hope this is all fine and cool. Take care!

What a mood. I vibe with it.

Hope you're having a good holiday season. Or if you don't do Holidays a nice Winter where you can relax.

Yandere! Demon France

He’s so charming and there isn’t anything you can do about that it lends to his ability to not only hide his demon form but also to hide his yandere tendencies. Not that you’d notice them until it’s far too late. And when he falls for human royalty it’s even worse because if he kills you he’ll know you’ll be able to handle the pressure of having a royal title on your shoulders.

However, he won’t outright kill you just because he’ll court you for a while before he carries out his plans to claim you.

It’s highly likely that your a Royal from a foreign nation and he found you at the ball and you were absolutely stunning in your evening attire. He couldn’t help but stare at your alluring figure for awhile while you glide around in your sparkly navy blue attire.

“Mon Dieu I have to have you!”

With Sparkles in his eyes and his heart in a flutter, he begins his work to get to know you.

Yeah, he’s going to be by your side the entire night just enchanting you with his words tying your soul to his through poems he recites to you that are really demonic love incantations. You are so oblivious and under his endearing aura that you really couldn’t care less.

By the end of the night you gaze into his ultramarine eyes that you’re enraptured by that you don’t even realize that they’re glowing. He kisses your forehead and bids you a good night. Little did you know that was the ending mark of his spell to captivate you even more and make you long to be in his presence just a little longer.

“Wait - I don’t even know your name…..”

He will disappear into the darkness and you won’t see him again until it’s his time for him to claim you as his mate. He’s put a longing spell on you that will make you want to be with him. However, when you ask others who you were dancing with all night they’ll tell you it’s not the man you described to them it’s someone else. They’ll look at your disgruntled face and think that you may have had one too many drinks.

“Your highness it might be time for bed. Perhaps you’ll settle tomorrow and figure out who you were smitten by tomorrow.”

You’ll be under such an immense amount of stress from not knowing about the man who had entertained you for the night that you will quickly develop a

“taktsubo cardiomyopathy" makes quick work of you in destroying your physical body. More specifically your heart.

“E’llo mi amore welcome to my home.” As he wraps his arm around your waist and rests his head on your shoulder and his golden locks sweep down your side. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Yandere! Demon Russia

Since he’s been abandoned time and time again when he sees your marvelous soul in the human world he sees it as something he can’t leave him. It has to be his. Since he has a menacing aura that terrifies any living mortal within 50 feet of him he has to devise a plan of how he will obtain his royal darling. They wouldn’t have the nerve to come near him. Czar Ivan can be that terrifying.

Ivan will have to scheme from the shadows and make you want to be near him so that he can get his claws on you in the first place. Of course, he has other lower-level demons and imps working for him so that they can spy on you and get a feel for what you’re like. He’ll have a better understanding of how to prepare his castle to support the two of you and not terrify you so much. Of course, having him gain information from afar will only contain his impulses so until he just has to have you in the flesh.

“Oh sunflower, I want to bring you into my world so you can brighten my dark life.”

He’ll say lovingly as he reads the reports and notes about his royal darling.

He’s not a patient demon ruler, however. He will hunt you down. Watching you from the sidelines will not be enough to soothe him. He will pace back and forth in his private office thinking of ways to bring you to the Frozen domain without causing you too much harm. Although the solution he thinks of will still scare you. (He’s a Yandere that will lean towards being horrible and destroying other mortals and even demons if he has to.)

If you guessed that he’d have someone hunt you down to bring you to him then you’re right.

It was late into the night when it happened. Some demented man had wanted you to sell you back to your family for a hefty ransom. You had run as far as your legs could take you but you were running out of stamina to be able to keep your attacker at least 30 ft away from you.

Your lungs were struggling for oxygen and your body felt like it was being roasted on a fire. You knew if you couldn’t keep your attacker at a decent distance from you you wouldn’t live through the night.

Your assailant chased you down into the forest where no one would be able to help you. You would be killed off in cold blood only to have your soul be sent to the frozen zone because you were in such heated disarray mentally that you handed realized all that there were demonic ores all around you that were ripping apart your soul in order for Ivan’s goons to drag you to hell to him.

“Ah, Sunflower there you are. Come inside before it the snowstorm hits.” He’ll comfort you. You’ll be too weak to resist. So you follow the tall Russian demon inside his castle to now become accustomed to your new life. His tail wagging from the excitement that you’re now there in his home. And with no way to escape, you won’t be able to deny his advances for long.

[turnedoffthetv]

Tagged by @yandere-princessu you rock :D

1. Are you named after someone? Yes

2. When was the last time you cried? Last month

3. Do you like your handwriting? Heck no

4. What is your favorite lunch meat? Meat loaf

5. Do you have kids? Nope 

6. If you were another person, would you be friends with you? B)

7. Do you use sarcasm? Yes

8. Do you have your tonsils? Yes

9. Would you bungee jump? Hum...

10. What is your favorite kind of cereal? Lucky Charms

11. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off? Nope

12. Do you think you’re a strong person? Can’t say I do

13. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? Mango or raspberry

14. What is the first thing you notice about people? If they are smilling

15. Red or pink? Pink

16. What is the least favorite physical thing you like about yourself? My left eye

17. What colour pants and shoes are you wearing right now? Pj pants and black socks

18. What was the last thing you ate? Cereal

19. What are you listening to right now? Twitch stream

20. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Ultramarine

21. Favourite smell? Mint Lego packs and MTG packs 

22. Last person you spoke to on the phone? My GF

23. Favourite sport to watch? Snooker? lel

25. Eye colour? Dark brown

26. Do you wear contacts? No

27. Favourite food for eat? Feijoada

28. Scary movies or comedy? Comedy?

29. Last movie you watched? La La Land

30. What colour of shirt are you wearing? Dark blue

31. Summer or winter? Winter

32. Hugs or kisses? Hugs

33. What book are you currently reading? Platero and I by Juan Rámon Jiménez

34. What do you miss right now? Chocolate

35. What is on your mousepad? Diablo III

36. What is the last TV program you watched? Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo

37. What is the best sound? Rain

38. Rolling Stones or the Beatles? Beatles

39. What is the furthest you have ever traveled? London - Hong Kong

40. Do you have a special talent? My sense of direction is pretty much on point?

41. Where were you born? Lisbon, Portugal

42. People you except to participate in this survey?

@placoo

@btrinidad01

@choaseyebrows

@eunjiyas

@dadbyul

@gailloune

@2ne1fanboying