#mortarion/reader

[druidwolf21]

Just saw your Lion el Jonson or Sanguinius question and I say just do which ever ones that make you happy.

Also may I request a Twin Sibling Blank/Pariah Reader x Konrad Curze smut or Sandwiched Lorgar x Reader x Mortarion smut, please. The first one can be about after finally bringing peace to Nostramo the two think it's time celebrate by having their first time together and for the second one both Lorgar and Mortarion having been secretly going to therapy sessions with our reader and somehow the both of them find out they are seeing the same therapist and so both wish to be in a relationship together while sharing reader.

Thanks Anon! It's always nice to have a bit of support when you're writing!

And thanks so much for the request!

I would absolutely love to write this for you!

It's probably not what you had in mind, but I still hope you enjoy it

Lorgar/mortarion/therapist (kinda) reader

CW:smut!

@kit-williams @beckyninja @lemon-russ @moodymisty @jaghatai-khock @kit-williams

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

Your eyes raised from your work as you heard the door to the office open and close with a quiet click. Laying your cleaning rag aside, you rose to your feet and peered over the desk cautiously, eyes softening as you saw who had entered.

"my lord Aurelian, you gave me a scare, I'm sorry I didn't know you would need this room, I'll finish up and be on my way"

The primarchs stood before you, resplendent in robes of word bearers heraldry, intricate amber threads of holy scripture woven into the flowing silken gambeson. His hard eyes softened as they found your small figure and he wove his way around towards you, seating his large frame on a chaise lounge as he followed your movement with a lilac stare. He patted the cushion next to him and gestured his head.

"actually, I was hoping to find you. join me?" He questioned softly.

You threw a soft smile towards your lord as you perched in the edge of the seat. It was not uncommon for the colchisian to seek out your company and ear. He had found you to be a quiet listener and a sound advisor on matter or a more personal nature. He spent a lot of your time together relaying his childhood on colchis, the abuse at the hands of its priests, and the fervent beliefs that carried him through dark nights. In turn, you provided words of comfort and perspective he had not found anywhere else, easing the burdens on his mind as he listened to your soothing tones.

"of course, my lord, I am at your disposal"

He fidgeted slightly as you sat, his large fingers intertwined together before separating and fiddling with a loose thread on his tunic.

"I have a question I would ask of you, though I beg your answer be of your own thoughts and not one of duty"

Your frowned slightly, brows furrowed as you opened your mouth to speak, before the sound of the door opening again drew your attention.

The soft swishing of robes and the scuffing of boots heralded the arrival of another.

Mortarion, primarch of the death guard cast a long shadow across the room as he glared at you seated beside his brother. His ashen skin almost lucent in the dark light of the study.

"Lorgar" he growled, eyeing the priest suspiciously as he stalked slowly towards the edge of the seat, sea green robes sweeping the floor as positioning himself behind you like a jealous guard dog. "I need this serf, I will return her to you later, should you need her"

Lorgar shook his head, not moving from his seat as he eyed his sibling with equal distrust. "Alas, brother, I have a need of her also." He leaned forward slightly, threading his fingers into a peak. "She has provided comfort to me and I am in need of her perspective"

Mortarion eyebrows shot up towards his brow as he heard his brother's words. "Perspective from a baseline Lorgar? How you have lowered yourself" he sneered, leaning forward, unwilling to admit he has come for the exact same reason.

Lorgar's burnished skin flushed with rage as he purses his lips, biting back a snide he response, he quirked a brow quizzically a the shrouded giant.

"and pray, mighty death guard, what do you seek out the little serf for?"

You raised your hands at the lords, placating their rage with gentle movements as the air between them seemed the crackle with tension.

"my lord please! Do not allow me to be the cause of a petty squabble, I am duty bound to aid however I can, please, I beg you, let us discuss this sensibly! My ear is not so limited I cannot listen to you both"

"but, my lady, I do not just want your ear"

You blinked slowly as Lorgar's hand stroked your thigh, his touch sending goosebumps across your body. You eyes trailed from his grip to meet his face, his eyes dark as he lent down towards you and gently brushed your lips with his own as his other hand slid up your neck to your chin, holding your head up as he pressed into you. You felt yourself go limp in his touch and sighed into his kiss, your own hand moving to cup his cheek as he depends the touch, running his tongue along your lip and humming as you parted them allowing him to taste you.

Your thumb ran across the intricate tattoos on his face as you sucked his tongue, earning a groan from the man and a tight squeeze of your leg at your action. You pulled away from him and smirked slightly, relishing in the way his eyes fluttered open and his lips parted in a pant as you withdrew. Your gaze trailed across his skin, almost bronze under the harsh light and flushed from your touch. His eyes, violet and bright as amethyst, bore into your own as he blinked at you slowly before casting his sight to something behind you. You barely registered a lithe hand grasping your chin before your head was turned and another set of lips smashed forcefully against your own, cold fingers firmly gripping your jaw as his mouth worked against yours. The touch was rough in comparison and you gasped as the new hands roughly handled you, twisting in your hair and tangling in your clothes. Your head was roughly pulled back as mortarion' s burning stare devoured you.

You lent back against the leather sofa, looking between the two men breathlessly.

"my lord, I really don't think this is appropriate, a serf is not... Respectable for a primarch" you finally sighed as you ran your hands through your hair.

Lorgar looked away and rose from his seat, palming his hand across the crown of his head as he spun away from you. The gold ink of his tattoos reflected faintly as he paced backwards and forwards in front of you. Mortarion watched him as he moved before turning his amber gaze back to you, a small grimace creasing his lips.

"I don't care" he hissed. Reaching over he gripped your ankles, sliding you down to sofa length ways with a squeal, your head resting on the arm rest as his large hands moved from your calves upwards, pausing before flipping the fabric of your skirt over your stomach. The pale skin of his face flushed as his eyes wandered from your face, down to your panties, lingering on the dark wet patch discoloring the crotch of the lacy material. He sneered as he ran a finger along the slick material, earning a shuddering gasp from you. "You seem to be enjoying this a lot for something that isn't appropriate" he glanced back to the hulking figure who had stopped wondering to watch your interaction unfold.

"I'm willing to share, but if you're too proper to engage in such things, all the more for me" he ran his tongue along his dry lips and continued to press into your soaked clothed cored with a long callused finger, soaking up the sweet noises you made as he pulled the lace off you and lazily rubbed a circle into your flesh.

Lorgar watched hungrily as mortarion's head dipped between your thighs, he saw the way your body shuddered and your chest heaved as the primarch lapped at your cunt, heard the moans and heavy breaths. Your hands tangled in long hair and pushed mortarion's head down as your hips rise to meet his lips.

Lorgar moved his hand down to his crotch, palming his heavy erection through the material as he watched you squirm, lilac eye almost black from his blow pupils, dilated in arousal. He felt something inside him snap and muttering prayers to the emperor and holy terra he stormed forward, towards the end of the sofa where your head rested.

You looked up through heavy lidded, meeting the starved stare of the urizen before his soft hands gently guided your head backward, bending your neck over the armrest before fumbling with his trousers. You gasp as he released his throbbing cock, the thick member bouncing against his stomach as he pulled it free. He took the base of his shaft in one hand, guiding it into your open mouth and stroking your cheek with his other, muttering scared words, blessing the sanctity of your mouth as he slid himself slowly towards your throat.

Mortarion pulled his head away and admired his work, your cunt twitching and soaked from his touch, before looking up at his brother, smirking as he finally caved and took you. Settling on his knees between your legs and lifting your ass to meet him, He dropped his own bottoms and pulled his dick out, jerking his rough palm along his own length before rubbing the tip against your wet hole and admiring the way your stretched and spasmed to accommodate his size, strong digits leaving bruise in the soft fat of your thighs as he held you still.

You gasped around Lorgar, you thin fingers lashing out and squeezing his strong thighs as you felt mortarion enter you. His girth stretching you to your limit as you tried to cry out, finding your voice caught in your throat as lorgar thrust forward, his tip tickling the back of your throat. You felt your brain melting into hot mush as you were filled, mind blank as the primarchs thrust into you from both ends. Lorgar's heavy balls slapping into the bridge of your nose as he fucked your mouth and you ran your tongue along the hot hard dick in your mouth, tasting precum as you swirled along a vein towards his glans, savoring his stuttered groan as his gentle touch found your breasts, pinching your nipples and twisting them, you hummed, allowing the vibrations to reverberate through your mouth into his sex.

Mortarion suddenly thrust hard, demanding your mind return to him, bending you to his touch as he drove into your wet pussy, his limp hair tickled the flushed skin on your stomach as he leaned over, fucking you as deep as he could, you core warm and wet, tightened and spasmed around him as he rubbed against your G spot with each motion.

"all your advice was just words of temptation" he hissed, pile driving your sopping cunt, spurred on by your muffled cries "whorish words to corrupt us"

Lorgar nodded in agreement, swear glistened from his bald head as he slid relentlessly past your lips. "Do not fear, little one" he grunted, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration "I will drive the holy doctrine deep into you"

You could only close your eyes and cry out in muffled pleasure as the titans used you, your body bouncing between them as they fucked you senseless. The knot in your stomach tightening and snapping free over and over as your orgasm ripped through your body with each thrust.

Lorgar's soft voice reached your ears as his great hand found your throat, tightening around it gently.

"accept this from me, let me fill you," he panted, his movement becoming uncoordinated as he neared his end, you blinked up at him, doe eyes hazy and wet from tears as you lathered your tongue around his tip. He rammed his prick against the back of your throat as he came and you gagged as the salty fluid rushed into your mouth, spilling out from your mouth and dripping down your face as he pulled out panting.

Mortarion followed close behind, cursing at you as he felt your walls flutter around him. "Your cunt pleases me as much as your words" he growled, jerking into your erratically as he drove towards his own high "such a good serf, comforting her lords" your pussy righted at his words and he groaned as he finished, spending himself within you as he shuddered, pumping his seed deep inside.

Pulling out, he spread your lips as he watched his cum leak from you, nodding to himself. Stepping back and tidying himself, he stood beside Lorgar as they both looked down at the mess. You lay twitching and heaving, cum leaking from your face and used whole as you shuddered in pleasured aftershocks.

"we have been blessed this day, death lord" Lorgar sighed, signing an aquilla across his chest as he turned to look at his companion, resting a hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps, this is an arrangement that could be... Revisited?"

Mortarion shrugged the hand off, turned back to the door to leave. "That would be amendable" he offered, before swinging the door open and taking his leave.

You turned your head at the sound and watched through glassy eyes as the word bearer gazed down at you.

"we should clean you up and offer our praises to the lords for your service to the imperium"

[moodymisty]

I absolutely love Mortarion. Could I please get a few nsfw head cannons of the lovely man with a dominant female partner. In my rat brain he has a massive praise kink and is the biggest sub ever.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author’s note: Now I know I said I’m not a Mortarion girl but you know what? I stan this. Speak your gospel anon I'm in a pew at service. I haven’t dived full in on death guard lore though, so forgive any minor character inaccuracies.

Relationships: Mortarion/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW-ish, Mortarion's overall existence, General 40kness, uh oh stinky

First one we gotta establish that this, -vaguely gestures to all of Mortarion- is a wreck. This man has so much wrong with him that it's not even funny it's just sad.

'Praise' for him in my opinion can be just as simple as being at least somewhat kind. Agreeing with his ambitions, supporting them, saying he's right. That he deserves better than what life he's been dealt.

Mortarion is kind of the 'forgotten' Primarch, so having someone groom his pride even if it's just a baseline human is probably gonna make his day a little bit.

But in a more, intimate context? It’s gonna be a lot less of praising his decisions, and more so of praising him. You love him after all, and you’re going to make that known.

But it's gonna take a hell of a convincing to get him to not posture around.

He's a Primarch, they aren't in the market of submitting. It's what they were created for, which he knows well.

Having his beloved in his lap while they tell him that they love him though is, different.

He's not of the mind thinking that anyone would ever want him like that. Sure he's a Primarch, he could have whatever he wanted, but it still surprises him a bit. He knows well he's not as charming (or manipulative) as his fellow Primarchs.

So saying anything that tells him (or shows him) that you want him is a massive button pusher.

The first time you told him without holding back that the next time he had enough time to himself that you wanted him, he was so lost. He'd also never told so many people to fuck off as he did then. He chased your tail all the way back to his personal bedchambers and locked himself in with you.

Surprisingly easy to get him totally lost in it. He goes from being a well spoken warrior to being a mess within minutes. Especially if it’s been awhile, and you’re intent on pulling out all the stops.

Likes to grab. He makes sure to try and be gentle though (even if Mortarion isn't' the strongest primarch he can still do serious damage). Will still more than likely end up with marks on your thighs anyways though.

Just, maybe plan to not do anything too strenuous the next day. Cause even if you're the one with the reins, it's still a massive undertaking (eyes too big for your stomach much?) to sleep with a Primarch.

[floralynn-arts]

ONWARDS, MY SOLDIERS!

HOLDING THE PRIMARCH + THEIR DAD IS COMPLETE!!

THANK YOU FOR THE PATIENCE, I HAD FUN!!

[diabolicalevil]

No context handing a Primarch a cat

I'm thinking about the freaks again,,, love those guys

Lion El'johnson: grabs it by the stomach and immediately tosses it to the ground. he knows it will be fine cause he's also a kitty

Fulgrim: if its a siamese, ragdoll or one of those expensive ones he'll start fawning over how gorgeous and elegant it is. other breeds he'll be very confused and a little intrigued. if it's a black cat he'll point at it and go "that's you" to ferrus manus

Perturabo: do not hand this man a cat he will hurt it!!!! on accident. and he'll be self loathing about the only thing he knows how to do is destroy until the end of time. and you're like yeah ok whatever but we gotta take that thang to the vet man

Jaghatai Khan: deeply amused, he thinks it's cute but will pass it back to you. unless it visibly has zoomies. "a fine warrior!" he will proclaim as it runs around

Leman Russ: dog person, doesn't like cats at all but he's experienced enough w animals to hold it properly. frowning so hard and puts it down quickly but gently

Rogal Dorn: he's holding it two handed like its a really big subway sandwich. very confused, just so baffled. if he let's it stay and it walks over his desk he talks to it very sternly about how that is Not appropriate behaviour. it does it again

Konrad Curze: DO NOT GIVE THIS MAN AN ANIMAL TO HOLD. he scares it away with his freak aura, for the best tbh

Sanguinius: curious but amused. the cat is going AT it trying to attack his wings but he's holding it very nicely I think sang loves animals

Ferrus Manus: annoyed I'm afraid. he's also worried he'll hurt it and passes it off to someone else. under no circumstances is that "someone else" someone from his legion, they cannot be trusted

Angron: another do not give this man an animal. its cute to him however ☝️ he is aware he might hurt it and is very quick to let it run off. from @evilraideroverboss Or for Angron: some people can imitate cat's hissing. Cat jumps on something high and hisses back. love this it's cute

Roboute Guilliman: confused but he's so tired everything is confusing him. he just treats it like another Thing to Handle and puts it on the stupid useless paperwork pile. if he ever locks back in to reality I think he'd find it very cute. it lives in his office now

Mortarion: annoyed. he doesn't like animals as much as plants but if it's a rarer breed of cat he'll quietly observe it like a bug for a little while. otherwise he's shoving it back to you immediately

Magnus: MAGNUS CAT DAD PROPAGANDA he has ten squillion cats in his library and this one is coming home with him too

Horus Lupercal: laughs, he thinks it's very amusing. handles it clumsily but he's doing his best

Lorgar Aurelian: extremely unfamiliar with animals, they're not allowed in the temple so he doesn't know what to do with it and hands it back to you

Vulkan: the best cat holder on this list. any confusion is not relevant he's holding that thang as if he personally gave birth to it

Corvus Corax: not interested and thinks it's weird you'd hand it to him, hands it back by the scruff of the neck

Alpharius/Omegon: kitty gets too confused and runs away

[dio-niisio]

How would the legions react to Legion Mother being pregnant?

TW: tokophobia

Really depends on how they view their mum/Primarch!

Dark Angels:

They know you are important, you usually manage the legions serfs and any other baseline in that area, they know that Lion likes you even tho they see your marriage is mostly political and they know that after marriage comes children;

All that to say they get caught by surprise at the news! Like a bit too surprised, It's just that Lion doesn't seen to be the type to want children;

Anyway for "security reasons" you are not allowed to be by yourself now, what if something happens to their new sibling? Sure it's cute at first, but it gets tiring very easy. At least they are supportive!

Also they play a game among themselves to see how long its gonna take to the other legions to find out about it!

Birth is kind of easy affair, they know nothing of it so they leave at the hands of very capable individuals, they are gonna leave you alone with your baby for about 3 days, then they wanna see their sibling, maybe bring gifts;

Emperor's Children

Get ready for intrusive questions! They are a bit curious on how it feels to be pregnant, considering that the moment they heard the news they went to do a little research;

REALLY excited at the good news! They are gonna have a little sibling! You are gonna have some of then following you around! And when you star to show they all wanna feel the baby!

Start gifting things for the baby! All of them handmade for perfection!

Birth can be a bit tricky, sure they read anything to do about pregnancy and labour and want to be a part of the process but knowing teoredicals do not amount to the actual thing! Fulgrim will have to make sure they are outside of the labour room;

Iron Warriors

They see it as you and Perturabo doing a masterpiece together! Because yes! Father is very talented artist! This too will be perfect!

Then immediately will start doing baby predictions! Will they be a boy or a girl? When is de babe due? What day will they be born? Every. single. one. of them is included, they have a very big chard;

Will also gift you baby things, mostly toys;

Birth is a nightmare tho, they insist they know what they are doing even tho the apothecarium never did this before, Perturabo is NOT helping, but alas your babe is born! Forrix won the predictions;

White Scars

"Yay! Another sibling! Father is so blessed! Prepare the drinks! We party tonight!"

They are very happy! But this is not the Khan first child! They will help you if needed, but you are mostly left with Jaghatai other spouses (lovely group of people!);

They will keep a eye on you tho, so no funny business, no horse riding or jetbike riding, actually why don't you just sit down while you are like this?

Birth is very easy affair, you got awesome midwives, as many medicae as needed and one apothecary of things go really wrong! And your husband to give you support!

Space Wolves

Month long party! They like to wrestle for you favor and do drinking competitions to impress you, this include Leman;

A bit over excited at times but they mean well, there always one of them by your side, you want anything just say so! That is their new sibling in there! Depending on how far along are you they will want to feel and hear the baby;

Will hunt and bring you pelts, and make little tolkien's out of bone for you!

Birth is ok! Got yourself the best midwives that Fenris can offer and your husband by your side! After your baby is born they will give you some days alone with your kid (a part of their brain is scared that you will reject the child if they get to close) But after that? Another month long party!

Imperial Fists

Very happy, but in a more discreet way. Like they will plan with their father about fortifying the nursery, and help you discuss baby names, but they kinda see as having a kid to be your duty to the legion;

They will ask about every question there is to ask, the wanna be prepared;

They will monitor you every move, calculate the fastest route to the Apothecarium if anything goes wrong and will defend you like you are a fortress their baby sibling is in;

Birth is almost a disaster, they will try to insist that you let the apothecary do everything, just remind them that they know nothing about childbirth and that they should get a midwife NOW, Rogal just says "Listen to your mother.";

Night Lords

Curze gets 10000x more possessive of you during your pregnancy, so they tend to stay out of the way;

They already know that you are tough, you married their father, and that you are not scared easily, but the vulnerability of pregnancy made them look out for you;

That being said they also don't make it easy for you, got cramps none of their business, got cravings ask Konrad, is in active labour call a serf;

Birth is annoyingly complicated, the midwife is late, the apothecary refuses to look at you, Konrad is nowhere to be seen, but when you decide that enough is enough and start to give directions things end up ok;

Blood Angels

Are being very poetic about it, writing songs and painting the most beautiful portrait of you! Over all very happy to be big brothers! Probably they made an entire holiday just to celebrate that you are with child!

Very overprotective! You are never alone (even if Sanguinius didn't order his men to protect you, they would be by your side), your every need is met, but you also is NEVER alone, get used to them seeing you bath;

They also make little gifts to the baby! Mostly Blankets and cozy things;

Birth is chaotic, they are constantly questioning the midwives, asking their Father if you are doing things "right". At some point they get expelled from the labour room just to give you peace, they do apologize later!

Iron Hands

They aren't your biggest fans, they didn't know why Ferrus bothered to get married in the first place, but alas it has happened. When they hear the news of your pregnancy it all clicks together! "Ah! Yes, of course! Father wanted a heir!";

Very dismissive of you, but very worried about the baby! They don't really care that you are in any discomfort, but will want to know updates on their new sibling;

They'll be upset if it's a girl, because she can't become an Astartes, therefore she can't serve the legion! Their father put an end to this nonsense at once, even if it's a girl, she can serve the legion, we just need to find out what she can do;

Birth is kinda easy, mostly because you will have a C-section. That's non negotiable. But worry not your husband will be there to keep an eye on whoever is doing the procedure!

World Eaters

They are mostly surprised that Angron can have children! Then immediately start to see your kid as a way to get closer to him, so expect a lot of love bombing from them in the early stages;

Some of them will develop a real bond with you, but after a while most of the others will leave you alone to deal with the pregnancy;

The ones that get closer to you will make you little baby tolkien's, necklaces and bracelets for when the kid gets here, and some of then for when they get older!

Birth is ok! The serfs midwives are here to help! But it's only them, Angron is having a episode due to all the emotions of being a father so the rest of the legion is keeping him away from you;

Ultramarines

"The next logical step in a marriage! Congratulations mum! Let's hope for many to come!" They tend to be very logical about this, so they will read every bit of information about pregnancy and motherhood, this has nothing to do with the fact that they are also very nervous about this;

You will have a flock of ultramarines follow you around, did they wished that you stayed in in one place for you protection? Yes! But they won't stop you, unless is the last few months of your pregnancy, then they start to follow their Father orders to keep you in place!

They will practice teoredicals with you to calm you down from pregnancy anxiety!

Birth can be a bit complicated tho, mostly because they are having a entire argument on who gets to be in the delivery room with you and Father, it gets to the point that the midwives have to kick them out of there! Also Guilliman is running late;

Death Guard

Very good at this pregnancy stuff! Mostly because they are good at biology and chemistry, but still. Overall very happy about it, happy to have a new sibling, happy that their father had found himself a good family;

They will ask how you doing during the pregnancy, they want to know on what they can help and ask general questions on the baby. They want to help you choose the name!

But they tend to be a little bit… Intrusive… They're very happy, but you don't seem to have time for privacy, and all of them want to feel the baby, and sometimes the questions can be a little inappropriate, but they kind of mean well;

Birth is not bad! You said it's just you, Mortarion and the midwives and they respect that! But the moment that babe is out of you they wanna see!

Thousand Sons

They figure out before you do! They say they can see the child soul since the beginning and were waiting on the good news, then they go on a ramble about the sea of souls and the warp;

Happy about having a new sibling, start doing predictions on how powerful your kid is going to be! Also, they like to talk to the baby, just so that when they are finally here they can recognize their voices;

Very protective of you, they kinda track you down by seeing where your aura is just to have a excuse to talk to you about the baby or gift something that they made!

Birth is chaotic! Half of them wants to use warp powers in the birth the other half doesn't want you to have negative side effects, the midwife is trying to do her job with 3 marines asking questions about everything and Magnus is trying to put things under control and comfort you at the same time;

Luna Wolves

50/50 honestly. Don't get me wrong, they're happy for their Father, but jealousy runs a bit deep. What if mum doesn't like us anymore type of behaviour;

That doesn't mean they won't celebrate for days! Their Father is happy so they all are, but prepare yourself they will try to "win" your favor back;

Will go on hunts to give you pelts and will pull a favor or two to gift you fine silks, if you tried to tell them that it wasn't needed they will think that you didn't like the gifts;

Birth is is a quite easy affair! It's just you, Horus, the mournival and the midwives in the room, and yes the mournival have to be there your lovely husband said so! After the birth another party will ensure, this one bigger!!

Word Bearers

Did anyone expect this? Not really, most of the legion didn't think Lorgar had it in him. So this must mean this is a blessing from the gods! All praise!

They will start to see you in more of a religious figure worthy of adoration then their Legion Mother, so you better prepare to be seen as some form of fertility saint bacause the serfs will start to pray to you;

The only one not really pleased with the entire situation is Kor Phaeron, but he's never really happy about anything;

Birth is hard. It's just you and Lorgar, you are in a altar it almost looks like a sacrifice and the whole process is treated like some form of ritual, you and the baby turn out ok tho;

Salamanders

The happiest boys ever! Seeing a family grown is always a happy thing! Especially when it's your family! Also having a new sibling is gonna be fun!

You now are followed around by more salamanders than usual, they are here for your comfort! Ask and you shall receive! From cravings to fluffing your pillows they are here for it! Especially the neophytes, these babies never been so focus on something like they are on you!

It's not recommended to take gifts from them, because you will cause a legion wide forging competition, and none of them can beat their Father;

Birth is very easy! Just you, Vulkan, midwives and two apothecaries on the other side of the door, that no one tells you are there, in case something goes horribly wrong!

Raven Guard

They immediately get very nervous, they are happy of course! But what if something happens to your or the baby?? They are gonna start some form of protocol just in case;

But after that? They are gonna leave you alone while they check on you in the shadows. You are not gonna be ignored and they are on your back and call, they are giving support from all the way over there, thank you very much;

They will gift you with shiny trinkets and soft silks, just in case you may want to nest;

Another chaotic birth! You wanted you, Corvus and the midwives, you got in the room you, Corvus, all the apothecaries that fits in there, 1 midwife and i don't know how many others hiding in the shadows in case of a attack!

Alpha Legion

They know. it's twins. Congratulations! Don't ask how they know tho;

Anyway they prepared everything! Now you have five other women who look exactly like you following you around at all times, and yes they are all pregnant too!

Will actively hide you from anyone, and when asked they will pretend to be confused and say "We don't have a Legion Mother, Father never married.";

Birth is confusing. They were right it was twins, but you can't remember anything from the process, you just woke you with your kids in hand with Alpharius and Omegon by your sides;

[aggresivemenace]

Primarchs Who Are a Beautiful Mess in Bed

1. Mortarion

As already said, Mortarion is naturally sensitive - painfully so. Every touch is ecstasy to him, every brush of skin a storm in his quiet, restrained world. What makes it all the more intense is the fact that you are his first. Before you, he had never known the pleasures of the flesh.

In your arms, the grim and fearsome Primarch unravels - becoming something else entirely. A trembling, gasping youth with snow-white hair and a voice that quivers with need. He moans softly into your neck, utterly undone by your warmth, your kindness, your hands.

"Look at you…so tender in my arms," you murmur, brushing his damp hair from his face. "You can barely breathe, my love…"

He whimpers at your words, overwhelmed, helpless beneath your gentle touch - a beautiful, breathless mess clinging to you as if you were the only real thing left in a world long choked with poison and sorrow.

2. Leman Russ

At first, he is like a wild beast - a wolf claiming the she who belongs to him by right. His movements are rough, primal, driven by instinct and flame. You feel his hunger in every kiss, every grip of his powerful hands.

But then… something shifts. As he nears the peak of pleasure, the fierce wolf gives way to something softer - something startlingly vulnerable. A whining, whimpering pup emerges in his place.

Overwhelmed by the scents, the sounds, the sensations pouring from you, Leman loses himself completely. The growls are replaced by gasps and deep, open moans; his hands tighten around your body, not with dominance, but with desperate, breathless adoration. He clings to you like a drowning man to warmth - like a creature who has finally found home.

"Oh, Leman… my love, my beautiful wolf," you whisper, your voice trembling with affection.

He breathes heavily against the back of your neck, sometimes instinctively nipping at your nape, like a creature too full of need to hold back.

3. Perturabo

Intimacy never came easy to him. Beneath his cold precision and stoic command lies a fragile self-worth, worn thin by decades of being overlooked, underestimated, used. He strives for perfection in all things - and that includes you, and everything he does with you behind closed doors.

There is uncertainty in him, masterfully masked by iron pride and a sharp tongue. But when he stands naked before you - not as the Lord of Iron, but as a man - the cracks begin to show, if only faintly. He tries to hide them. Tries to stay composed.

But once your bodies join, the mask shatters. Sit astride his hips, ride him slowly, then faster — let your hands cradle his face as you move. Look into his eyes. Tell him how good he is. How much you love him. How his body, his cock, the way he touches you - it all drives you wild.

The moment is too much for him. That unbearable tenderness, the praise, the eye contact - it breaks him. Perturabo, who never bends, starts to whimper from a mix of pleasure and sweet, unbearable shame.

By morning, the Primarch of the Iron Warriors can barely tear himself away from you. He clings like a man starved for softness and finally allowed to taste it.

4. Lorgar Aurelian

There’s one thing Lorgar can scarcely admit even to himself: he absolutely adores sex. The Emperor gave him a burning, insatiable libido, and faith became one of the ways he tried to smother such “sinful” desire.

So when he’s with you, when you lie together in the quiet dark, every shared touch becomes something sacred - a reward, a holy rite, a private absolution.

"Light of my life," you whisper, straddling him, moving slowly as he lies beneath you - barely coherent, undone by sheer pleasure.

"My Lo…"

And at that, his eyes roll back in bliss - body shivering, soul unspooling - as he reaches his peak with a gasp that sounds like prayer.

5. Sanguinius

Sanguinius is a deeply tender creature - though over time, he learned to bury that tenderness, to lock it away beneath poise and grace. But with his beloved wife, he hides nothing.

Your intimacy is always preceded by long games of touch and tease, flirtation and whispered affections. Sanguinius becomes like a courting bird - full of beauty and pride, desperate to be pleasing. He wants to delight you, to earn every sigh and moan, to make you feel worshipped.

But it never takes long before that careful composure begins to slip. His eyes flutter shut, soft moans fall from his lips, and his thrusts grow desperate and erratic. The Great Angel gives himself to you completely - lost in the rhythm of your bodies, undone by the power you hold as a beautiful, sensual woman.

"Oh, Sanguinius! My little bird," you gasp, holding his neck close, your breath trembling against his skin.

6. Fulgrim

Fulgrim was made for beauty - he has known this since childhood. He strives for perfection in all things: in word, in gesture, in the way he kisses you. But this obsession with excellence also makes him fragile. To be perfect is to fear failure. Especially in bed. Especially before you.

Every act of love with him is a performance. He enters it with grace and intensity, like stepping onto a stage, hoping for applause. He wants to dazzle you, to conquer you, to be the one who steals your breath. He flirts, he touches, he acts out passion - but what he truly craves is not praise, but love.

And then you're together. His movements are precise, beautiful - for a time. But the longer you stay with him, the more the rhythm breaks down. His breath quickens, sweat beads on his brow, and his silken hair sticks to his neck. You whisper how beautiful he is. How you love him. How good he feels inside you.

"Oh, my star, my muse…please…more," he whispers, nearly sobbing from pleasure and unbearable bliss. His hips tremble, hands clutching at the sheets. He is no longer a lord, no longer a Primarch, but a man, shivering under your gaze.

With you, in your bed, Fulgrim forgets about perfection. He simply gives himself over - body and soul - trusting them into the hands of the woman he loves.

By morning, he buries his face in your chest, unable to pull away. Even Fulgrim, the epitome of beauty, is helpless before the power of your touch.

[monalisahyperdrive]

Primarch names from least moanable to the most moanable - entirely subjective.

Factors taken into account:

Name length

How easy it is to say

General vibes ('imagine having sex with a guy and having to moan gilbert')

I wrote this instead of sleeping. I don't know either. This is getting posted and I will probably never address it again if I don't delete it during my break tomorrow. I should not be given internet access past 11pm.

Perturabo

It pained me to put him all the way down (up?) here at the least moanable as I fear he may actually be one of my favourites, however... I am not delusional enough to ignore that not only is this a pretty long name, a good amount of people struggle not only to say it but to even spell it. Not at all dyslexia friendly. I would give it a good go but I feel like in order to enjoy yourself you kind of have to accept you will be calling him 'Perty' or 'Bo' or whatever you prefer.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius fans please spare me but this is a long ass name at 3? 4? syllables. I don't even know what you could call him for short instead. However, I don't doubt that it's entirely possible, I just think it would take a while to stop stuttering through.

Mortarion

Another long name. Are you sensing a pattern yet? I am. More moanable due to having less vowels than Sanguinius and less harsher (?) consonants like in Perturabo. Pretty middle of the road, easy to pronounce, could probably be easier if you just start calling him 'Morty' instead.

Alpharius / Omegon

Alpharius is again another longer name that I feel like I would trip over for a good couple weeks. I am NOT shorting it to Alpha. I must maintain my dignity, whatever crumbs of it remain. Omegon is an easier name - likely due to it having less syllables (3 rather than 4). However, I feel like the only way to shorten it would be 'Meg' and that would make me laugh and I would get distracted. Remember how I said this is subjective? This is why.

Jaghatai

3 syllables, easy enough to say, not a lot of vowels or harsher consonants to trip over. Incredibly doable, and I'm sure many have tried it. Hell, I'd certainly take a good stab at it.

Angron

Harsh G right in the middle, otherwise no complaints really. 2 syllables. Straight forward. You could certainly give it a good go.

Rogal

2 syllables - easy right? Wrong. Evil G right there in the middle again. Probably would have been higher (lower?) on the list if it was softened with maybe an H right after. Alas, it is not so.

Corvus

2 incredibly easy syllables. The V is a little evil (harsh) but with a relatively short name and a soft starting consonant I'm sure it's manageable. Best bird boy. Not much else to say.

Fulgrim

Although apparently a good chunk of people have given it a go - or at least his wives have - we're back to the G dilemma. Personally I'd suggest calling him 'Fulgie' - like Fergie but worse.

Konrad

Quite possibly the most normal name on the whole list. Konrad. Everyone can say Konrad. An easy two syllables with the harshest letter right at the start. Easy peasy.

Roboute

I actually don't know if this is 2 syllables or 3. I even went and looked on Reddit. Some people are saying Ro-Bou-Te, I've been reading it Ro-Boot. Either way these are easy, with the harshest sound being the T of all things. Either way I don't think moaning for poor long suffering Robert is too tricky.

Vulkan

Deceptively soft V and K. What a pleasant surprise. Anyone could moan this easily, and he'd probably be delighted.

Lion

Objectively this is incredibly easy, which is why it made it so high (low?) on the scale. However, I would argue moaning 'Lion' in full sincerity is somewhat hilarious. That sure is the name of an incredibly powerful (and unfortunately incredibly sexy) man.

Magnus

Easy to moan. Probably wouldn't mind if you gave it a go. Again, one of the easier names. I'm sure he'd be happy to tutor you on the subject.

Lorgar

Flows nicely, 2 short syllables, incredibly straight forward. Started mentally calling him 'Lorgie', never recovered.

Ferrus

Incredibly straight forward name. Ferrus, pronounced the same as Ferrous, like the iron tablets. Something something you should do it, it's medicinal.

Leman

Not at the top due to the time it took to decide whether it was Lee-man or Le-man (like lemon). Personal gripe, but if you've gotten this far down without understanding that I don't know what to tell you. Quick, easy, sure why not.

Horus

As much as I wish to be deeply spiteful and shove him somewhere unremarkable in the middle, I just can't do it. This is an easy name. Don't worry, if you struggle at all I'm sure he'd be willing to let you keep trying until you figure it out. Bastard.

[thethronezone]

What do you think the Primarchs would want their wedding to be like?

This is assuming the Primarchs are marrying for love aka not an arranged marriage.

Mortarion - It's a small, very private ceremony held on his flagship. There's a few banners, the serfs have placed new candles, there's even a few flowers. Lowkey but it has a strange sort of earnestness behind it. Honestly though, Mortarion would rather just elope but for his beloved he will grin and bear with it. This is for them, after all. Maybe a dozen people invited, mostly to serve as witness as Mortarion says "I do" and his beloved does the same. Ditches the reception though and instead leaves with his spouse for their honeymoon.

Fulgrim - Since he's the kind of person to have planned his own wedding since he was like 8 years old, Fulgrim is very specific with how he wants it. He's a bit of a bridezilla, to be honest and will yell at at least a handful of people because they do something 'wrong'. It is a beautiful wedding though. A garden/paradise world, ice sculptures, delicacies from all over the galaxy, an orchestra playing both the classics and his and his beloved's personal favorites.

Angron - It barely counts as a wedding. Angron just kinda grabs his beloved and, in front of a bunch of his legion, states "From this day on, this is wife/husband/spouse. If anyone has a problem with it, speak now or stay silent." Of course, no one raises any objections, mostly because there's a look on Angron's face that promises a quick, gory death to anyone that does (it also helps that Kharn is glaring at everyone, urging them to shut the fuck up or else). Satisfied with the submission, Angron nods his head and dips with his, rather startled, wife/husband/spouse.

Magnus - Hope the guests likes the arcane cause that's the theme of this wedding. Magnus wants the wedding to be memorable and unique so he cooperates with his sons to create a magical display. Balls of light hovering in the ceiling, instruments that play themselves, magnificent fireworks etc.. Then there's the speeches. Because of course Magnus is going to have a lot to say during the wedding, both during the ceremony and the reception. He wants everyone to know how happy he is!

Perturabo - MEGA BRIDEZILLA. Don't get me wrong, it's an absolutely beautiful wedding with elegant decor and a scenic venue but dear god, Perturabo is acting like an absolute dictator as he tells everyone where to put things and where to go. Some poor serf is going to burst into tears when he starts yelling at them for using the wrong shade of white. He said eggshell white, not ivory! Alas, that is the prize of perfection. It's not overly pompous or so fancy that its distasteful, instead there's this subtle beauty to everything, the feeling that even the most minute details were considered and have a purpose.

Alpharius - There's no actual wedding day. Instead, the 'ceremony' takes place over a prolonged period of time, weeks and maybe even months. Small instances of sincerity, small tests of devotion. Their beloved is not told of the significance of these occasions or that they pass whatever test they are put through. All they know is that one day both Alpharius and Omegon start referring to them as their husband/wife/spouse and that's that. Congrats.

Lorgar - It's a very, very long wedding, with lots of speeches and ceremonials. Lorgar feels the intense need to thank god for giving him his beloved and make sure that their union is blessed. Seriously, he can't stop thanking god. There are tears in his eyes the entire time, he's so emotional. There's lots of hymns and songs, candles and incense everywhere. It's also a very traditional wedding though it still manages to feel very sincere and there's a genuine feeling of love.

Horus - Of COURSE the wedding takes place in the Imperial Palace, Horus would not have it anywhere else. And all his sons are there. And most of his brothers. Maybe even the Emperor. To Horus, the guest list is the most important part of the wedding (after actually getting married, of course). He finds it important for people to witness it, to partake and celebrate this union. Otherwise he's pretty happy to leave the rest of the wedding planning to his soon-to-be spouse.

Konrad - One word; elopement. Sorry not sorry but Konrad would rather rip off his own nails one by one and shove them up his nostrils than stand in front of a crowd and confess his feelings and vulnerabilities. It would probably end with a massacre, with his nerves geting the better of him. Instead Konrad wants a quite, private thing, just him and his beloved promising to be together forever. Some secluded location where no one can hear his whispers of devotion and promises of undying loyalty.

Sanguinius - Surprisingly hands off with the wedding planning? His sons practically beg him to leave it all to them and to just spend time with his fiancé. Besides, they know what he wants. Lots of light, a place with a high ceiling and great accoustics, a bunch of flowers (roses, duh!), live music and a wedding cake as tall as he is.

Corvus - Here comes the blushing bride! And by bride I mean Corvus. Mostly leaves the planning to his partner because he has no clue where to even start and is more focused on not getting cold feet and bailing. Does however request that it's a small wedding and that they only invite people that both of them know. Wants it to be intimate and happy, not some kind of pompous display.

Ferrus - A small, private ceremony with only a couple of his most trusted Iron Hands there to serve as witnesses. Oh, and Fulgrim of course. The ceremony proceeds quickly. A few vows and promises of loyalty, an exchange of rings and finally them writing their signatures on an Imperial document, making their marriage official. It's all over within the hour. Fulgrim is lowkey horrified by how simple and uneventful the whole event was but that's how Ferrus wanted it. He just wants to be married.

Rogal - He wants the wedding to take place either in the Imperial Palace or in one of his fortresses, partially because of safety reasons but also because of the symbolism. By getting wed here, he's proving to everyone that he's capable of sheltering and protecting his spouse. Very involved in the wedding planning and is, surprisingly, a bit of a bridezilla because he wants it a certain way and won't be dissuaded. There's a strict schedule to be followed and a dress code. And there will be cannons going off instead of wedding bells. Because cannons are more impressive.

Vulkan - Big wedding! Lots of guests! Vulkan wants everyone he knows to be there so it most likely ends up being an outdoor wedding. His sons are very involved in decorating the venue, making most of the decorations by hand. Vulkan himself makes the wedding ring. There's a live band but most of the music is going to be the guests singing wedding songs.

Lion - Super formal and traditional, more of a ceremony rather than a celebration. That doesn't mean that Lion is not happy and doesn't want to celebrate but that comes afterward, in private. To him, a wedding is more of a public spectacle meant to prove commitment. Still, he's got a reputation to uphold and so it is actually quite a beautiful wedding. Not cozy but elegant. Lots of banners and torches.

Leman - The wedding lasts for three days. First day is the exchange of vows and all that jazz but the rest of it? That's the wedding reception and it's straight up one big party. Lots of eating, drinking, dancing and telling stories. And so, so many toasts. It feels like every five minutes, some rando stands up from their seat, raises their cup and calls out a toast for the merry couple. And the longer the reception goes on, the drunker everyone gets and the toasts gets more and more, well, rowdy.

Jaghatai - Traditional Chogorian wedding, complete with all the customs, clothing and food. He's very proud of his culture and wants to share that with his spouse, invite them to take part in something he feels is very important. Of course, their own culture is also taken into account and implemented. Expect lots of guests, with White Scars, different tribes and family members. Magnus is definitely there.

Roboute - Very traditional, very formal yet honest and heartfelt too. Like, there are so many small little details that to most people, mean absolutely nothing but have some sort of meaning to Roboute and his beloved. So while it's a very formal event, he expresses his true feelings of love and devotion through these small details that only they notice. There's going to be lots of guests (even though Roboute would rather have a smaller wedding) but he's going to make sure that only those he actually likes gets seated close to the two of you.

[baldieboi]

I decided to try writing some Primarch x reader content. Here's my first try.

How each Primarchs would react when they hear about your (their wife) pregnancy?

Lion El’Jonson

The Lion would be stunned, his usually unreadable face betraying a flicker of disbelief. He’d question the logistics first. How could this happen, given his engineered nature? Once convinced it’s real then he’d become intensely protective, almost to a fault. He’d worry about his child inheriting his burdens (the secrets of Caliban, his own inner darkness).

He’d build a fortress of security around you, ensuring no harm comes to you or the child. He might struggle to express joy openly but late at night, he’d rest a hand on your belly, silently vowing to shield his family from the galaxy’s horrors. He’d also secretly dread being a distant father, fearing he lacks the warmth a child needs.

Fulgrim

Fulgrim would be ecstatic, seeing the pregnancy as the ultimate expression of beauty and creation. He’d view the child as a masterpiece in the making, a perfect blend of his and your essence and a testament to the heights humanity can achieve.

He’d shower you with affection, composing poetry and music for the unborn child. He’d design an exquisite nursery, obsessing over every detail to ensure it’s flawless. He’d talk endlessly to the child in the womb, promising to teach them art, grace and the pursuit of perfection while ensuring your every need is met with elegance.

Perturabo

Perturabo would be conflicted. Part of him would be overjoyed at creating something not meant for war while another part would fear failing as a father. He’d overanalyze the situation, worrying about the child’s safety in a galaxy of conflict and whether he can provide the emotional support they’ll need.

He’d build an impregnable nursery-fortress, complete with defensive mechanisms (just in case). He’d also craft toys and tools for the child, wanting them to inherit his intellect. He’d be gruff but protective, awkwardly trying to comfort you while hiding his own insecurities about fatherhood.

Jaghatai Khan

The Khan would smile broadly, seeing the pregnancy as a new journey to embark on. He’d be thrilled at the idea of passing down the traditions of Chogoris, viewing fatherhood as an extension of his role as a protector.

He’d take you on gentle rides across open plains (if possible), wanting you to feel the wind as he does. He’d tell stories of his homeworld to the unborn child, hoping they inherit his love of freedom. He’d also craft a small talisman for protection, a nod to his cultural roots.

Leman Russ

Russ would let out a booming laugh, sweeping you into a bear hug (gently, of course). He’d be over the moon, seeing the child as the start of his own pack. He’d boast to everyone about becoming a father, unable to contain his pride.

He’d insist on teaching the child the ways of Fenris as soon as they’re born, already planning mock hunts and survival lessons. He’d be incredibly hands-on, always near you to ensure your safety, and would probably howl at the moon in celebration when the child arrives.

Rogal Dorn

Dorn would be quietly stunned, processing the news with his usual calm demeanor. Inside he’d feel a surge of protectiveness and purpose: he now has something more personal to defend than the Imperium itself.

He’d design the most structurally sound nursery in the galaxy, ensuring it can withstand any threat. He’d be a steady presence for you, offering quiet reassurance rather than overt affection. He’d also begin planning how to instill discipline and honor in the child, though he’d worry about being too rigid.

Konrad Curze

Curze would be horrified at first, fearing his child will inherit his cursed visions or dark nature. He’d struggle with the idea of bringing life into a galaxy he sees as doomed but a small part of him would cling to hope that this child could be his redemption.

He’d become obsessively protective, lurking in the shadows to guard you from any perceived threat. He’d whisper grim lullabies to the unborn child, torn between warning them of the galaxy’s horrors and wanting to shield them. Fatherhood would be a battle between his darkness and his desire to be better.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius would be overwhelmed with joy and sorrow. He’d see the child as a beacon of hope, a chance to create something pure, but he’d also fear passing on the curse of the Red Thirst or foreseeing their suffering.

He’d be endlessly tender, cradling you and speaking softly to the child about a better future. He’d craft beautiful things for the nursery, wanting the child surrounded by light. He’d also pray to the Emperor to spare his child from his own burdens.

Ferrus Manus

Ferrus would be conflicted: part of him would see a child as a potential weakness, a distraction from duty, but another part would feel a surge of pride at creating life. He’d struggle to reconcile these feelings.

He’d approach fatherhood like a project, ensuring every need is met with mechanical precision. He’d craft cybernetic toys (perhaps too early), wanting the child to be strong. He’d be distant at first but would gradually soften, especially if you help him embrace the emotional side of parenting.

Angron

Angron would be overjoyed in rare lucid moments, seeing the child as a chance to build a family he never had. The Nails would make him fear his own rage, worrying he might harm those he loves.

He’d be fiercely protective, vowing to shield his family from slavery or harm. He’d struggle to be near you at times due to the pain of the Nails but in clearer moments, he’d sit with you, speaking softly of a life free from chains for their child. He’d rely on trusted warriors to guard you when he can’t trust himself.

Roboute Guilliman

Guilliman would be thrilled but immediately start planning. Fatherhood would be treated as a new campaign and he'd want to ensure everything is perfect for you and the child from resources to safety.

He’d create detailed schedules for the pregnancy, ensuring the best medical care and nutrition. He’d read every text on parenting (even writing his own Codex Paternis). He’d be supportive but overly formal at first, though he’d melt when feeling the baby kick, showing a rare vulnerable side.

Mortarion

Mortarion would be quietly moved, seeing the child as a chance to defy the suffering of his upbringing on Barbarus. He’d view fatherhood as a way to create a life untainted by the horrors he endured, though he’d worry about his ability to provide a gentle environment.

He’d be a silent guardian, ensuring your health with an almost obsessive focus on cleanliness and safety, fearing disease or poison might harm you or the child. He’d speak little of his joy but would stand watch over you, determined to protect his new family. He’d plan to teach the child endurance, wanting them to survive any hardship.

Magnus the Red

Magnus would be fascinated and overjoyed, seeing the child as a new mind to nurture. He’d be thrilled at the prospect of teaching them the wonders of knowledge and the Warp, though he’d worry about the inherent dangers of psychic power influencing them.

He’d surround the nursery with protective wards and spells, ensuring no psychic harm comes to the child. He’d talk endlessly to the unborn baby about the mysteries of the universe, eager to teach them. He’d be incredibly attentive to you, using his knowledge to ease your discomfort.

Horus Lupercal

Horus would be elated, seeing the child as an extension of his legacy and a symbol of hope. He’d view fatherhood as another way to inspire and lead, thrilled at the idea of shaping a new life with the same care he gives his Legion.

He’d be a doting husband and expectant father, rallying his Luna Wolves to celebrate the news. He’d spend time with you, sharing stories of his campaigns while promising the child a galaxy worth fighting for. He’d want to instill leadership and courage in them, preparing them to stand tall among humanity.

Lorgar Aurelian

Lorgar would see the child as a divine gift, a sign of the Emperor’s favor. He’d be overwhelmed with emotion, viewing the pregnancy as a sacred event that reinforces his faith in humanity’s purpose and his own role as a spiritual guide.

He’d write hymns and prayers for the child, wanting them to grow up steeped in belief and reverence for the Emperor. He’d be endlessly devoted to you, seeing you as a holy figure for bearing his child. He’d plan to teach the child the power of faith, hoping they’ll share his vision of enlightenment.

Vulkan

Vulkan would be overjoyed, tears of happiness in his eyes as he embraces you. He’d see the child as the ultimate expression of humanity’s worth, something to protect at all costs.

He’d craft beautiful, functional items for the child: cribs, toys, even tiny armor. He’d be incredibly hands-on, always near you to help with anything. He’d teach the child kindness and strength, wanting them to be a light in the dark galaxy.

Corvus Corax

Corax would be quietly moved, though he’d worry about bringing a child into a galaxy of war. He’d fear failing them as he feels he failed others but he’d vow to protect them.

He’d be a shadow around you, always watching for danger but rarely speaking his fears. He’d build a hidden, safe space for the child, wanting them to grow up free from oppression. He’d teach them independence, though he’d struggle to open up emotionally.

Alpharius/Omegon

They’d react with calculated curiosity, intrigued by the implications of fatherhood. They might even question if the pregnancy is part of a larger scheme (paranoia is their nature). Still, they’d feel a rare personal attachment.

They’d ensure the child’s safety through layers of secrecy and misdirection, hiding their family from any threats. They’d be unpredictable fathers, sometimes distant, sometimes surprisingly involved. They’d teach the child to question everything, preparing them for a life of intrigue.

[mothiir]

the watcher from the wastes

Mortarion jerks it. That’s it, that’s the fic. @moodymisty and @kit-williams to blame, specially @kit-williams since I basically stole her entire idea.

cw: wanking. self loathing, sort of. mort being a creep and having issues with bodily autonomy. self harm in a weird 40k way. did not mean it to be this gross but ended up that way because morty.

—

—

This process is deeply unpleasant, and Mortarion prefers to go through it as little as possible — and yet you, cursed thing that you are, have forced him to drastic measures.

First of all: the mask must be removed. He unhooks it from his ears, curlicues of oily smoke escaping as the suction gives way. He holds his breath, keeping the toxic fumes nestled in his lungs as long as possible, and sets the mask onto his desk. His work-chair is hewn from the sort of raw pig iron that has Horus despairing. Brother I can have something nicer made — even something with a cushion —

Mortarion does not need such frivolity. It is a chair. He can sit upon it. Thus it serves its purpose.

He can hold his breath for hours, should he need to, but that would defeat the whole purpose of this exercise. With a moment to brace himself, Mortarion exhales the last of the gas, momentarily covering his face in a rank green shadow.

It dissipates, and Mortarion waits for a few heartbeats to pass before inhaling.

He tastes his own flesh: half-cooked, and putrefying.

It is not an unfamiliar taste — it’s almost nostalgic. For a moment, he is a boy once more, nailed to the bowels of an alien planet, eyes fixed on the distant, uncaring sky.

He inhales again. Sharper now. The glutinous phlegm his sinuses produced in a vain attempt to capture the worst of the toxins is starting to thin. He coughs it out into his sleeve, then spits on the floor. Another breath. His throat is always the worst. The gas rots the tissue within, destroying the tender membranes, rendering his voice raspy and ragged.

Without the constant application of the gas, his body has time to heal. And oh how the healing hurts. He hacks up a glob of snot, and then of quivering red tissue. Inside, his cells multiply frantically, like they know that they only have a scant space of time before the mask is reapplied and the perpetual injuring begins once more.

Another burst of coughing; then a frankly revolting sneeze — again, captured into the billowing sleeves of his robe.

He inhales again — and curses, because the healing has moved faster than last time, and his sense of smell has returned with a vengeance. By the Emperor’s ballsack, the stench is overwhelming. What —

He looks down at himself: robes stiffened with effluvia from experiments and battle, fresh gobbets of snot and rancid blood dripping off the end of his sleeves. Hm. Yes, well — that would explain it.

—

By the time he has finished bathing, his body has healed as much as it will ever be able to, and he feels acutely uncomfortable. Even without the influence of the gas, his voice is still a guttural rasp, vocal cords ruined from years of experimentation. His shoulders still hunch instinctively, used to crowding through narrow corridors; his eyes — though brighter — still have sclera of sulphur yellow, polluted with broken blood vessels.

When he inhales the poison of his homeland, at least he has an excuse for how broken his body still is. Without it, his weak flesh stands in testament to the monumental failure of his youth. Not only did he fail to slay the monster who held him captive, he failed to recover from its abuses, remaining a broken-limbed mess of a Primarch.

And yet — and yet a part of him enjoys this feeling. There is no pain in his throat, or behind his eyes; he is not subject to the constant cycle of his lungs rotting into slurry and healing themselves once more. His gums are shiny and pink, not sloughing off his teeth in grey scraps.

Best of all, his senses have returned to their Primarch peak. Even constantly poisoned, and half-crippled, he can smell and taste and hear better than any baseline — pathetic little things the lot of them, no better than scurrying ants.

Apart from…well. You smiled at him You did not cower from the pallour of his flesh, or cringe from the huff and click of his respirator. You looked him full in the face and you beamed.

Lord Primarch, you called him. Lord Mortarion.

And afterwards, to your friend, where you thought he couldn’t hear you: you never said he was handsome.

He pointed you out to Typhus, a little later. Asked his eldest son why they were so desperate for staff that they were now employing defective baselines, like you, who clearly had an incredibly limited range of vision — if you weren’t blind entirely. Typhus had informed him that he didn’t think you were blind — indeed, you had cleaned his armour to perfection just this morning — but if you displeased Mortarion he could have you —

No, Moration cut in. No, that wasn’t necessary.

Not blind. Just — stupid, possibly.

Probably.

Anyway — if you are stupid then he is a fool as well. And worse: he does not have the excuse of being mortal.

Soapy and slick, white hair hanging in a curtain down his back, Mortarion sits in the deserted communal showers and stares at a little plastic sleeve in his left hand. It’s sealed tight — waterproof, preserving the object within as well as can be hoped for. He wonders if you have noticed the theft yet. Probably. Serfs aboard the Endurance do not have many possessions — they do not need them. More than likely he’s caused a little bit of grief, with you either blaming yourself for the loss, or snapping at one of your fellows, blaming them.

He cannot bring himself to care.

His clothes are long gone. The serfs will incinerate them, and bring him new ones when he sends for them. Perhaps this time, he will not go so long without cleaning them. Humans have terrible senses, but he wagers that you would probably prefer —

He amputates that thought abruptly. It does not matter what you prefer. It does not matter what anyone prefers. This is a temporary indulgence to end his madness, and then he will move on.

The plastic crinkles as he opens it, his tongue dashing out to wet his lower lip. The garment is plain cotton, with a little green bow at the front.

Garment. Fabric. So many distancing words to cover up the fact that he has stolen your underwear. He can never let Horus find out. He can never let anyone find out. Even though there is no one here to witness his shame, he feels a flush creep up his back. His cock leaps eagerly as he takes himself in hand, his toes curling on the wet floor. It has been so long since he last touched himself.

It’s pathetic. It’s revolting. And yet —

Mortarion buries his face into the gusset of your underwear, inhaling deeply as he strokes himself. Your scent is faded, but still clings to the fabric, thick and musky and sweet. He can imagine burying his face between your thighs, just inhaling. He’d bite your soft flesh, leaving bruises the exact shape of his teeth — and he would not let them heal. He’d do it every night until they scarred, and you could not change clothes without remembering exactly whose bed you were crawling into.

His breath stutters; his drool seeps into the cotton as he sucks. He’s never taken anyone to bed — there have always been more important things — but he knows what he wants to do. He knows that you would smile at him, and stroke his scars with gentle hands, and welcome him in so deeply that no one would ever be able to pry him out. You’d let him ruin your insides, stretch you so no other man would ever be able to satisfy you again. He’d fill you up to the brim, and then he’d do it again, and again, and again. He’d make you swallow him until you were coughing his seed up, he’d cum in your hair and —

His orgasm rips through him like a tempest, so abrupt that he cries out in shock, cum spurting up over his chest. His flanks heave, and he comes back to his senses in a humiliating rush — he’s chewed through your underwear, shreds of fabric stuck between his teeth. He picks them out, grimacing.

A shameful display. He cannot wait to do it again.

[druidwolf21]

HIIII LOVE YOUR WRITINGS! But I wonder how would the primarchs cuddle the reader?

AAHHH THANK YOU!! 🥺

You wanna know how they cuddle do ya?

We'll hopefully you like this!

A/N: are some of these out of character? Absolutely

Did I want to make this whole thing fluffy

ABSO FRIGGIN LUTLEY

Some of these are longer than others simply because I don't write the characters too often!

Cuddles with the primarchs

Lion El'johnson.

"Come here"

Your breath caught in your throat as lions deep voice rumbled through your chamber. He sat slouched in his chair, emerald eyes trained on you with each small step you took towards him.

"Yes, my lord?"

The primarch continued to watch silently as you stepped closer, before swiping out and grabbing your wrist. You yelped as he hauled you into his lap and buried his face in the crook of your neck, wrapping his great arms around you and holding you close to him. His breath was warm on your neck as he inhaled your scent and you laughed, wiggling your arms free to loop them around his neck and run your hands through his golden hair.

"If you wanted me to hold you, you just have to ask" you cooed, tilting your head allowing him to nuzzle into your collar.

"If I want to hold you, I will" Lion huffed, grumbling slightly and you fell into a warm silence. Straddled across his lap, you combed your fingers through the silken strands as he squeezed you to his chest.

"Of course, my Lion~"

Fulgrim

"Now where do you think you're going?"

You giggled as Fulgrim gripped your waist and hauled you back onto the bed with him, pulling you flush to his bare chest he wrapped around you. Silvered hair tickled your neck as he kisses over your cheek.

"Fulgrim stop we need to get ready"

The primarch felt hot as he hugged you closer, mumbling into your neck.

"They can wait, let me hold you just a little longer~"

Resignation set in and you sighed, scooting yourself backwards to press against him. His lips turned up in a smirk as he kissed along your throat.

"5 more minutes my sweet, then I promise we will get up"

Perturabo

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

Perturabo stood over you, leering down as you glared back at him.

'Did you think I wouldn't see that stupid face you were pulling? Trying to catch Dorn's attention?"

His scowl deepened when you rolled your eyes and waved him off.

"I was not making faces at Rogal Dorn, you're being ridiculous"

Barking laughter broke from him as he took a knee and grabbed your chin, pulling you to face him.

"Am I not enough for you?"

Perturabos voice was harsh as he spoke, but staring back at him you saw his eyes soften and his lips twitch, insecurity threatening to claw its way through the rage and boil and the surface.

"You are" you relented, reaching up to cup his face. "You're always enough"

His grip on your chin released as you wrapped your hands around his neck. Large hands found your waist and pulled you close, lifting you off the floor and clutching you to his chest.

"You're ridiculous" you sighed, kissing his cheek as he held you.

"If you ever do it again-"

Perturabo trailed off, squeezing you slightly as he spoke.

"I know. I know"

Jaghatai Khan

"It's freezing out here!"

You curled up against the Khan's broad chest as you sat precariously on the jet bike, hugging the chassis with numb fingers.

Jaghatai chuckled and leant over you, flicking the engine off with an easy movement. The roar of the engine cut instantly, but heat continued to radiate through the metal.

"It is not so bad" he laughed as you pressed your cheek to the rapidly cooling engine cover.

"Not for you, you're super human. I am just a normal human"

The Primarch hummed and reached down, prying your fingers off the bike. "come here then"

"No no no, it's warm please just let me warm up"

You whined as he pulled you from the heat and watched with wide eyes as he unbuttoned his coat, popping the front open to reveal his broad scarred chest.

"Come here"

He spun you and pulled you against him, wrapping the dense fur around you and pressing you to his bare skin. The difference was immediate, heat radiating through you.

"Better?"

You lent your head back, grinning as colour began to return to your cheeks. His chest vibrated beneath you when you nuzzled back beneath the jacket and he laughed, cupping your back with his hand.

"Oh yeh, much better"

Leman Russ

"Down! Get down!"

2 pairs of eyes gleamed at you as you struggled to rise from the bed, held flat against the mattress by a thick layer of fur and a mass of muscle on top.

"Freki, Geri, get down! I have things to do I can't stay in bed all day"

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, wheezing and collapsing back down when a massive paw slammed into your chest followed by the wet drag of a hot rough tongue along your cheek.

Both wolves stood over you, ears pricked and tails wagging softly as they stared at you with vivid amber eyes whilst Freki's clawed paw rested on your stomach.

"Look I promise we can cuddle later, but I seriously have work I need to do-"

"Wolves don't bargain, they take what they want"

Leman's voice was rich and heavy with laughter as he stepped towards the edge of the bed shrugging a heavy furred cloak to the floor.

"I'm very quickly learning that"

He chuckled, reaching over the scruff his hand across the top of Freki's head.

"Alright enough, off"

With a low whine, the weight on your body lifted as the wolf released you, stepping back and settling on his haunches next to his brother towards the bottom of the vast bed. You sat up and groaned, stretching the ache from your back and watching as leman sat on the edge, pulling his snow trodden boots off and tossing them aside.

"Thank you, honestly I wish I could stay in bed but I have to UUFF-"

you promptly found yourself sprawled in your back again as leman lay next to you and rolled over, pinning you beneath a muscled arm.

"Are you serious! I have things to do! And you do! You're a primarch you can't spend all day in bed"

Russ grunted, pulling you toward him.

"Fenris is cold, little one. I'd hate for you to freeze"

He opened one icey blue eye and grinned.

"besides, didn't I just say you can't bargain with wolves"

Your retort was interrupted as, with an excited bark, the two wolves launched themselves towards you, sliding against your back and pressing into your legs as they curled up around you.

"Fine. Five more minutes"

Rogal Dorn.

"Rogal"

"...."

"Rogal"

"....."

"Roooogaaaaaallllll"

The praetorian sighed and dragged his hand down his face before looking over at you.

"Yes?"

"I'm bored"

He stared at you blankly, pen hovering over the diagram on his desk midway through writing.

"You interrupted me to tell me you are bored"

You nodded, smiling softly as he sighed again, tossing the pen aside and leaning back in his chair.

"You realize I have work to do? Important work"

"I know. But you've been doing it for ages, I think you need to take a break"

Steely eyes softened slightly as you stepped towards him and sat on his knees, leaning your back against his chest.

"I'm almost done" he muttered, placing a large palm on your waist and tracing a small circle into your skin with his thumb

You sat propped against him, dozing in his lap listening to the bellow of his lungs and the soft scratch of ink on parchment. His hand stayed present on your hip and his lips pressed gentle kisses to the crown of your head as he worked, enjoying the quiet companionship as he held you close.

You opened your eyes, blinking sleep from then as you looked around. The candles had burned low and the ink had long since dried on the schematics littered across the desk. You felt firm arms wrapped around you and you slid your head up, along the thick fabric of his shirt.

"Hey" he whispered, smiling slightly.

"Hi" you snuggled back down, relaxing into his arms as the last of the candle wick burnt down to cinders.

Konrad Curze.

"You're so small."

"Compared to you I am"

"And soft"

You leaned back and frowned at the night haunter, untangling yourself from his long arms with a scowl.

"Remember when we talked about things that sound good in your head, but are weird when you say them?"

"Yes"

"Yeh that's one of those things"

Curze flashed a grin, bearing jagged fangs as he pulled you back towards him. Hunched over in a dark corner in the bowels of the ship, the sound of ceramite and bellowing astartes was muted beneath tons of iron and the roar of engines.

"But you are. You are soft."

You conceded with a low huff and a roll of your eyes, allowing him to pull you back into his lap. In the darkness, you felt his hands run along your arms and his lips press to your temple, blind to everything except the flash of sharpened teeth. In the belly of the nightfall where light faltered and the noise was faint, Curze held you close, savouring the feel of your warmth against his bare skin.

"You are small and warm and soft"

He shook slightly as he clung to you, grounding himself and inhaling your scent.

"Soft and warm and so so fragile"

Sanguinius

"I'm sorry, I can't right now"

Sanguinius brushed past you into the room, tossing his cloak to the side. You gathered his cloak, struggling under the size and weight as you dragged it off the bed. You stilled as the heavy scent of iron hit your nose and a flash of scarlet across the fabric drew your eye.

Draping the material across a chair, you sat on the edge of the bed watching and waiting.

The angel stood near the window, the vast view of bhaal stretching out behind the frosted glass as he scrubbed his hands in a basin, the water slowly turning red. Tension was thick across his body, his shoulders stiff and wings puffed. He ran a soft towel across his hands and tossed it aside with a hiss.

"Sanguinius"

He glanced over his shoulder at your voice, watching you intently as you straightened the bed sheet before patting it.

"Sit. Please?"

With a heavy sigh, Sanguinius stepped over towards you and fell to the mattress, your body lifting as his weight hit the bed.

"Lay back"

Staring at you for a moment, he reluctantly slid backwards, spreading his arms wings across the silken sheets as he lay on his back with his legs hanging off the edge.

You shuffled, pressing yourself against him as you snuggled up to his side. Using his chest as a pillow, you ran your hand along the wall of muscle, tracing small shapes along his stomach.

After a moment, his own hand lifted and his finger trailed along your shoulder before gripping you and pulling you on top of him.

"Rough day?" You mused, pressing your ear against his pecs to listen to the dual beat of his hearts.

"Indeed"

"It's over now"

Sanguinius sat up suddenly, straddling you in his lap as his wings wrapped around you, shielding you both.

"yes. It's over now"

Ferrus manus

"What is this?"

"Not something you should be touching"

"what about this?"

Ferrus reached over and yanked the tool from your grip, placing it back on the table.

"It is not for you"

Rolling your eyes you folded your arms, pouting as the primarch continued to focus on his work.

"Ferrus'"

Silver eyes flicked to you before returning to the tools.

"Ferrus!"

With a growl he slammed the item down, rattling the worktop as he spun to you.

"What"

"You're the one who asked me to come here, so why are you ignoring me"

Ferrus Manus pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling and taking a deep breath before replying.

"You wanted to see my work, this is my work"

You softened, unclenching your arms. You had complained he left you alone too often, forgoing the limited time you had together to ticker in his workshop. You hadn't realized this was his attempt and making an effort.

"I know" you stepped towards him. "Im sorry"

Ferrus nodded, turning back to the table before pausing. With a grunt he lifted you, setting you down on a large stool near his worktop.

Stepping behind you he lent over your shoulder, his breath hot against your cheek as he spoke. Taking your hands, he moved them over each item on the desk.

"This is used to augment the cardiac valves in the astartes to ensure maintained pressure output from their heart."

He moved your hand to another device and his lips moved to your neck.

"This lens allows for increased optical resolution when sniping"

"and what's that?"

He scoffed, lips twitching against your throat.

"That's a screw driver"

"Oh"

He released your hands, placing his own metallic palms around your waist.

"Don't worry, you'll learn"

Angron

"Deep breath"

You knelt in the bunk as the primarch rested his head on your thighs, eyes crunched shut in pain. Running your hands along his cheeks and temples you slowly worked your fingers through the tense muscle.

"It's ok, I'm here"

Angron's teeth ground against each other as another wave hit him, the nails biting deep and flooding his body with rage. You moved along his jaw and down his neck, wincing as the muscle spasmed beneath your touch.

"You should go" he spat, wincing up at you.

"No it's ok"

The primarch head jerked and his fingers clenched at the sheets as another wave hit him.

"Im here, I've got you"

Angron's body shook and he snarled, spit flying from his jaw

"Why? Why do you stay. I could kill you"

"But you won't"

"I can't hold you" he whispered, twitching as he fought the nails.

"But I can hold you"

You bent over, cupping his cheeks as you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"I'll hold you as long as you need"

Roboute guilliman

"Roboute?"

Guilliman blinked up at you as you stepped into his office, a large steaming mug gripped in both hands.

"I thought you'd still be working, so I bought you this"

You stepped up to his desk, sliding the recaff across the surface and smiling sadly at him.

"You should take a break, you're exhausted"

He shook his head, dragging a hand through his short crop of blonde hair before taking a large swing of the coffee and wrinkling his nose.

"Is there sugar in this?"

You shrugged. "you need your energy"

Reclining back in the massive chair, guilliman puffed out a heavy breath and gestured over the forms across the table.

"I'll finish these and then come and join you a little while ok?"

Shaking your head you clambered up onto the desk, sitting on the forms and missives as you placed yourself directly in front of him.

"Come here"

You spread your arms wide and waited. Roboute cocked a brow at you before sliding his chair forward. You took his head in your hands and pulled it towards your chest.

"what are you-"

"Shhh"

You held him there until the tension began to leave him, the weight of his head becoming heavy in your hands as he slowly began to relax. He wrapped his own arms around your waist and nuzzled against your chest.

"Better?"

"Better"

Mortarion

"You should see this mortarion!"

You lent against the guardrail, staring out of the port side window of the endurance as it floated in orbit around the green planet.

"I've seen it"

"No really, it's beautiful!"

You heard the heavy wheeze behind you before you felt his presence.

"Look! Isn't it amazing!"

You leaned over further, pointing out through the glass.

"Be careful" he coughed, cold hands gripping into the back of your shirt. "It's a long way down if you fall"

You flashed a grin at him over your shoulder, catching the twitch of the mask on his face as he smiled back.

"I'm not scared, besides if I did fall I'm sure you-"

Creeeaaakk SNAP

As if on cue, the railing snapped. You floated for a split second, still gripping the split railing as your eyes turned down to see the control deck far below. Air rushed around your face and you opened your mouth to yell.

Suddenly you were yanked backwards, Harshly tossed to the floor as mortarion stood over you, eyes wide and body tensed.

"What did I tell you?"

Before you could reply, the pale king dropped to his knees and hauled you against him, one cold hand clutched to the back of your head as the other dug into your back.

"Be careful" he hissed, coughs wracking his body as he fought the panic that had risen so suddenly.

Mortarion froze as you slowly lifted your arms and wrapped them around his neck, pressing your face into his collar.

"Thank you"

Magnus

Magnus lounged on the large chaise, one leg kicked up against the cushion and the other propped on the floor as he flicked through the tome in his hands.

"Magnus?"

He paused, looking up from the page as you staggered into the room rubbing your eyes.

"Yes? What's wrong?"

"I woke up and you were gone" you whispered. "I was worried"

He cocked his head, red locks falling about his face and sympathetic smile as he spread his arms wide.

"Come here, little one"

Still blinking sleep from your eyes you shuffled forward, falling face down across his chest and sprawling across him, tangling your legs around his.

"What are you reading?"

"Would you like me to read it to you?"

Magnus placed a large hand on your head, soothing you as he spoke.

"In the age of man, before the imperium-"

Horus lupercal

"well aren't you a sight for sore eyes"

You laughed, sprinting towards the warmaster as he pushed his way into your chambers

"Horus! I missed you!"

He chuckled as you flung yourself towards him, easily lifting you so you could cling to his neck, peppering his cheek with kisses.

Carrying you with him, he perched himself on the edge of your bed, falling backwards and rolling to pin you beneath him.

"I was so worried! I heard you were injured"

"Greatly exaggerated tales" he mused, pressing his forehead to yours.

Pressing a kiss to your forehead he sat back upright, draping his heavy fur around you and pulling you to his side.

"Luckily Chaplain Erebus was able to help me before things got too out of hand"

You snuggled against his side with a contented sigh, enjoying the feeling of his strong hands holding you tightly.

"I'm glad, it sounds like he looked after you"

"Indeed. All is well"

Lorgar aurelian

Lorgar sat on his knees before you. wide eyes and lips parted, he stared at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"My love, my love" he whispered, over and over as you ran your hands over his shaved head and cheeks.

"Yes, I'm here lorgar"

He rested his head in your lap, closing his eyes with a blissful sigh as you danced your fingers across his skin.

"Hold me" he cooed, tilting his jaw to meet your fingers. "Bless me with your touch"

"Let me embrace you, lorgar" you hummed, your voice distorted as the world flickered around you.

"Yes, embrace me"

"Join me, Lorgar... Forget the imperium... And join me"

Vulkan

"You are welding that incorrectly"

You threw the hammer down, sweaty and irritated as once again the dagger warped in the heat. Vulkan laughed, watching you throw you hands up exasperated.

"It takes time to get this right, don't get angry"

"That's easy for you to say!"

Turning your back to vulkan, you stamped your tooth and seethed. Glaring at the glowing forge you kicked and the anvil, hissing when pain shot through your foot.

"Take a breath"

You stiffened as vulkan knelt and wrapped his arm around you from behind. The heat of the workshop was nothing compared to the furnace of primarch that pressed his weight against you.

"you'll get there" he whispered against your ear, gently stroking your arm.

"I know"

"Now try again. this time, like this" he slid his hand from your hip, up to your shoulder and along your arm, gripping your wrist and flexing it"

"got it?"

"Got it"

Corvus Corax

The room was dark, only a single streak of moonlight creeping through the fluttering curtains and painting a silver streak across your face as you slept.

Corvus stood wreathed in shadows watching you. Your lips parted slightly as you mumbled. Stepping silently from the corner, he slipped onto the bed beside you, brushing a curtain of hair from your face.

"I'm back" he whispered, pulling the sheet over your shoulder.

You muttered and twitched at his voice, but remained locked in sleep as he curled up next to you, reaching over to pull you against him. Placing a large palm across your stomach, he pulled your hips against his and curled around you, sliding his other arm under your head.

"I'm here now"

He froze as you opened your eyes. blinking in confusion you twisted slightly, seeing the raven lord curled up behind you.

"Oh, am I dreaming?" You yawned.

"Yes, just a dream"

You nodded like you'd heard a secret and rolled back over, rubbing you head against his arm and locking your fingers with his long slender ones across your stomach.

"I hope I don't wake up too soon"

Alpharius/Omegon

"you know how I can tell you apart?"

The twins both looked up at you, identical looks of amusement as you glanced at them over the table.

"Oh really?"

"mhmm. And I can prove it. Come here"

One of the brothers stood, chuckling, he strode over and took a knee in front of you. You rose to your feet and opened your arms wide.

"Hold me"

The primarch smile broadened as he wrapped both arms around your waist and lifted you, spinning you around as he squeezed you gently. After a moment he set you down and you gestured to the other to do the same.

With a confident smirk he approached you. Dropping to kneel, he wrapped one hand around your waist as the other tangled itself in your hair, tilting your neck as he brushed his lips against your pulse point.

After a moment, you stepped back and pointed

"You're Alpharius"

Pointing to the second twin.

"And you're Omegon"

Alpharius laughed, clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"Very well done. But what if we weren't to touch you?"

You tapped your lip in fake thought.

"We'll I suppose I'd have to slap a sticker or something on your back, just to be safe"

You giggled as they stared at you dumbfounded.

"Probably best you just keep hugging me yeh?"

Tags:Tags: @beckyninja @moodymisty @jaghatai-khock @echo-of-damnation @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lemon-russ @astrohymn @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @incrediblethirst @kit-williams @iluminatka16 @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @bookandyarndragon @thisuserislilsilly @vithralith @absynthe-mind @saintsylestine

[nightscythe]

Hii can i request how the primarchs would react to making reader laugh for the first time???

Tyy<3

primarchs when you laugh because of them for the first time

i need to preface this by saying i'm not funny, so dont' expect the primarchs to be either. pre-heresy antics

your smitten primarch becomes even worse after you laugh ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈

lion: minutes into him trying to explain the importance of grip when you had a sword in your hands, something you mostly had ignored in favour of biting the inside of your bottom lip and nodding along sweetly with the gentlest smile, he’d made the beginnings of an innuendo that you’d not caught onto immediately. keeping your hand firm, gentle motions, you’d rezoned in at that point to try and understand exactly what he was trying to say it. he'd rambled on, but there was something about his delivery, how he continued like it hadn’t even occurred, that made you laugh. a little snicker at first, then something more. he'd stopped, almost immediately, blinking wordlessly at you with the slightest frown. you’re laughing at me, he’d grumble, not amused by your laughter. well, not until you told him you were laughing because of him. you’d just caught the slight blush over his cheeks as he turned away from you and cleared his throat to continue. he’d reference it again later, hoping to get a similar reaction. 

fulgrim: he’d noticed you’d been quiet most of the evening, even with his attempts to wow you. call him lovesick, call him hopelessly in love with you; he’d do anything to see you smile. so when you’re sat beside him, watching him carefully as he explains a story to you in great detail, he catches you completely off guard by impersonating his sons’ voices with near-perfect accuracy. and when you respond with a giggle, leaning into him without really thinking about it, you make his entire year. his eyes shine brighter, his grin gets wider, and maybe his ego gets a bit bigger. you’re so cute when you laugh, he tells you, reaching for a loose piece of your hair, how do i make you laugh all the time, i wonder? of course he makes it his life’s mission to see you happy at all times, especially if he’s the direct cause of your laughter and happiness. 

perty: company was never best placed with him, unless it was you. he could sit beside you for hours, watch you out the corner of his eye as you got on with whatever you needed to and accompanied his silence so beautifully. but this night he’d been so focused on what he was doing that he’d forgotten you were near him, subjected to his mumbled complaints over how the wires in his hands were far too small for him to work with and they were misbehaving as usual. his personification had got to you – just a smile at first as he spoke, then a laugh under your breath as you tried to continue with your own project. his eyes snapped to you immediately, his heart thumping in his chest as the sound replayed over and over in his head. the stare doesn’t cease for some time as he brings himself to accept what he was feeling; that was the moment he fell in love with you. 

khan: you’d not been part of the conversation, but as you always did when you stood by his side, you were listening. some banter between him and his sons, it wasn’t even that funny, but he laughed, then continued laughing, and you’d tried to stifle the laugh at your lips so not to give yourself away from eavesdropping. but a slight sound, the littlest breath escaped your lips, and he’d turned directly to you. do that again, little one? his question is voiced as he steps towards you, taken back by your unexpected, shy gesture. he leans down to you and gently continues, so sweet, aren’t you? i think i need to hear that again. and of course, he doesn’t care if you were eavesdropping on any of his conversations, so long as he gets to hear that again. 

leman: he was never quiet, especially not around you. but when he’d noticed your despondence when he spoke, how you barely seemed to pay attention, he didn’t take it personally. he offered you a place to rest, curled up on his chest, eyes heavy as he stroked your hair and wondered just how he’d been so easily tamed by someone so… soft. never being one for complete silence, he started telling you stories like he was around a fire with his sons, something ridiculously exaggerated from the depths of fenris and his childhood. he doesn’t even know what he’d said that got you, but when he felt you laugh on his chest, the soft vibrations as you curled into him, his smile could only widen. he swears you do it on purpose, make him fall for you even harder every time you do something new in front of him…

dorn: he’d been contemplating humouring you for a few days now. there were opportunities he could have said something intentionally bad to gauge your reaction, but it seemed like a risk to him. especially when one involved how structurally sound your bedroom would be with him. but when you’re walking beside him, a gentle silence between you both, he stops beside a poorly placed slab of concrete, and he tests the waters without any warning. an uncalculated risk (really it was nothing but he’s overthinking). i suppose that one was placed by my brother. you stop to look at him, pause for a moment, then chuckle before walking on. it didn’t matter to him; he’s practically beaming as he catches up to you. shall i make you laugh more often? like he needed permission – but you may regret saying yes when the jokes just seem to be more sleep-deprived rambles. regardless, in his lowest moments, it’s your laugh that replays in his head. 

curze: sometimes his humour came always naturally, and he wouldn’t realise he was saying anything that might amuse you. so when he heard you laugh behind him as he read over reports that really didn’t matter to him, he stopped immediately, hand mid-page turn. he turns back to you with his brows pulled together, almost cracking when he sees the grin still on your face. he can’t even meet your eyes as he asks you, was that because… of me?  though there was a touch of hesitancy before you nod, because sometimes with him it’s a guessing game of whether that was a good or bad thing, he hums and returns to what he was doing. it was nice, do it more. you wouldn’t need to be asked twice. 

sanguinius: he lays beside you, his golden curls just brushing your cheeks from how close you are. he usually found a smile gracing his lips whenever he listened to you, completely simping enamoured by you. you’d been telling him a story, one that seemed to get more dramatic as you went on about something you’d seen years ago. it was one of those ‘you have to be there’ stories, but he still listened, fingers idly brushing against your hand, still infatuated as you reach the climax of your story and end up basically snorting at your own words. your hands immediately fly to your face, embarrassed. but he just laughs along with you, pulling your hands from your face so he can coax you to continue. why do you hide? he asks, warm laughter still in his voice. just makes me love you even more. 

ferrus: he’d been hammering away when he’d stopped to inspect his work, not noticing you approaching. as he turned the metal between his fingers, he hummed, grumbling something about fulgrim’s poor interpretation of metallurgy, words not really registering with him as he focused more on the sword. but when he heard you laugh, it caught him completely off guard. he doesn’t even look at you as his cheeks become hot and he tries to bury himself in his work one more time, mumbling under his breath, that wasn’t meant to be funny. and it wasn’t, but he was cute. especially when he tried to hide his enchantment from how you’d reacted, peeking back at you from the corner of his eyes. your smile just made him even shier. are you trying to kill him?

angron: it was the first time he’d noticed you, actually. really noticed you. his humour, typically dry and unfiltered, wasn’t for everyone, but when he frankly explains that the past hour with an admiral could have been spared with one simple punch, you can’t resist the huff of laughter, and he catches it immediately. especially the way you try to hide the following laugh behind a cough and a stare down at the ground. he returns to what he was doing but only pays half attention to the conversations that followed. he thinks about it for days actually, every time coming back to the look in your eyes and the carefree sound. the logical conclusion? he’s in love with you. oh no. he’d taken blows that could kill him before, but somehow this was even worse. 

rob: he’d huffed something as he sat down at his desk, just beginning to acknowledge everything else he had left to do that evening. it was about magnus, he thinks, that his powers would be beneficial to sign a few thousand documents without getting a papercut. when you found amusement in his words though, he looked up to you, watching as you tried to hide your face and recompose yourself in front of the primarch. his intrigue prevented him from looking away. awe, fascination – he’d felt it all in that moment. he wasn’t usually dramatic, but it felt like everything else around him faded, you were the only object of his affection – and always would be from that moment on. 

morty: your hand just touched his as you laughed softly, head falling backwards as the grin widened on your lips. he just watched you, frown a little more prevalent. i didn’t mean to make you laugh, he tells you, nonchalantly, as though it was meant to convince him more than you. he didn’t think he was that amusing, especially complaining about the taste of disappointment, but you’d somehow found entertainment in it. his mouth feels a little drier as he tries to explain himself away, it wasn’t… there was nothing to indicate a joke. i do taste disappointment. when you laugh a little more, he maybe finds some humour in his words and lets his demeanour fall just a little. 

magnus: he was always assured of everything he did, except when it came to you. he could have a whole audience bent over laughing and find pride in it, but when you burst out laughing from his comment on how his brothers are yet to understand what impulsive behaviour truly was, he was completely frozen. he’d not expected you to laugh, and he stutters over his own words as he stares, eyes wide. i didn’t mean… he pauses as he tightens his jaw to prevent his lip from trembling just a little, did i sound stupid? his heart thuds in his chest for a moment until you say no, a sigh of relief as he laughs a little himself. he’d never truly get over his underlying anxiety around you, even when you were married with kids – cause he wanted to be perfect for you always, of course.  

horus: he’d been trying to make you laugh with poor excuses for dad jokes all night. every time he delivered one perfectly, then the final one he wanted to try, why did the picture go to prison? you’d looked up at him through your lashes, not flinching despite his obvious grin. he was framed. he laughs at himself, and you barely break a smile. didn’t help he’d been at it all night. oh, come on, he says, nudging your shoulder as if it would somehow make it funny, you know i’m hilarious. and as if all the times you wanted to laugh that night but didn’t, secretly enjoying his pathetically good attempts at it, you look away and exhale into a snort. you’d think he’d conquered the galaxy with how happy he is afterwards. worth every shameful moment, he tells you, cheeks almost hurting from his grin, same time tomorrow?

lorgar: humour wasn’t his thing. but somehow, as he’d run his hands over your body reverently, caught every nook and imperfectly and blessed them nonetheless, you’d laughed. gentle, shy, a reflection of your love as he told you that he’d accept the punishment of heresy for you. he wasn’t sure if it was a nervous reaction to his truth, but it didn’t matter – it showed him another piece of you that he could love with everything he had. his chest ached, his throat burned. he watched you, held you so carefully you’d think that without him, everything would be broken. but when he whispers against your temple later that he’d tear down worlds to hear that sound again? best believe it’s not a lie.    

vulkan: he’d joked about actually being fireproof, a relatively harmless joke that wasn’t really that funny, but given how you were looking up at him with huge heart eyes, you would have laughed at anything he said. he watched curiously as you looked down to the ground, lip pulled between your lip as tried to stop the coy giggle behind it. he reaches for your chin, tilting your head back up towards him as he leans closer. don’t hide from me, he says, smile drawn onto his lips, i’d like to hear that more often. he hums as he presses a kiss to your cheek, that’s everything to me. 

corvus: you’d been watching him carefully when he almost rolled his eyes and asserted that if everyone else learned to shut up, he’d have all the messes in his life sorted quicker (and therefore could spend more time with you). you’d laughed softly, looking away from him as you turned the laugh into a hum. when you look back, his eyes are wide, and you can’t help but laugh again. what did i do? he asks, suspicious of your amusement despite the way his pulse was racing. when you ask him not to look at you like that, all soft and wary, it somehow draws the shyness back in. he starts to smile, not meaning to glance down at your lips, but you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen. your cheeks burn as you avoid his gaze. cutest, too, he adds, shifting closer to you, don’t think i could ever look away. 

alpharius: his hand held onto yours like you’d slip away if he took even an ounce of attention away from you. i have a tracker for your happiness, he says, eyes bright as he admits a secret he probably should have kept to himself a little longer, you’re on a ten-day happiness streak. luckily you think it’s a joke, so he gets away with his real-time tracker being hidden another day, not that he was thinking about that after hearing your laugh. he can’t help the burn in his chest and the way his lips curl. i made you laugh? he’d have to start a tracker for that too. do it again. please? and he’s still holding your hand, not prepared to let go until you just do that one thing for him. please.

this was unnaturally soft for me... i've got to write yandere sanguinius now to balance it out. i hate the word snort. this is peak sunshine and rainbows in 40k type shit. why did i make ferrus soft and shy? who knows. he's cute.

[absynthe-mind]

Primarchs Soulmate AU (with you)

I’ve been writing too much happy stuff, so errrr, some of these are a little diabolical… you guys will forgive me, right, right??!!?!

(will you forgive me if I make a part two of this in a happy version in recompense??? TwT) 

TW: grimdark/cannon typical content, death, self-harm, violence, physiological manipulation, maiming, slavery, child abuse - look its bad in here okay there is only angst and warhammer typical horror to be found

Taglist: @druidwolf21 , @incrediblethirst , @bookandyarndragonwritesdark , @meervalv0

Edited 30/06/2025 for soulmate marker clarity + few extra sentences with Lion + Corvus (more pain >:D)

Lion El’Jonson - I

(Shared sensations)

Crawling under his skin filled his every waking moment. Skin that was warm to the touch of every serf, apothecary and otherwise but felt freezing cold beneath his fingers.

Once upon a time it had felt warm, and he’d felt the kiss of sunlight against him even in the cold depths of space, and he’d felt the soft slip of silk against his own - all sensations he’d shared with them.

He would apologise to them over and over, for feeling what he felt, for the pain he endured in battles, for the cruelty of being bound to him.

You would always wave him off with a smile, swat at him for being silly, reassure him that loving him was worth every moment of agony, of the grip of steel in your fingers and rivers of another’s blood that graced your skin.

Never in those days had he expected to pay tenfold for every lingering gentle moment you’d given him with the constant chilling pressure of your stone coffin on his back.

'Sleeping' was nice, he could almost, almost pretend he was resting with you, that you were finally together again at last.

Fulgrim - III

(Flowers appear where soulmate gets injured)

At least of all the possible soul markings he could have had, they were beautiful, worthy of display on his skin.

Flowers blossom in the most predictable and oddest of places. A rose bush on the back of his arm, forget-me-nots blooming where his lover skinned their knees. They all fade, but he admired their beauty as they last, often sketching them to reminisce on their strange charm and allure at later dates. 

What did you think of the flowers he gave you for mere moments in comparison to your slowly healing wounds? Sometimes he healed so quickly you might not have even noticed delphinium weaving up your torso before it disappeared, and he could imagine your panic at seeing lilies blossoming around your head as he was shot.

Still, he loved the idea that the two of you had gifted flowers to each other long before ever meeting, like the romantic lovers of old, and it was only right he should have such a perfect way to identify you.

He doesn’t find you before the heresy, he doesn’t find you before Rylanor finds him, but when he recovers? He’s determined.

You were the one pleasure he had not yet found, the one ecstasy he was yet to enjoy. Yes, he would find you and teach you the meaning of bliss, of the excess he deserved from you.

It would not be an easy task, scouring the galaxy for you, but he would not leave his search empty handed. He would simply have to make the task easier, make you easier to identify.

The blade doesn’t even register as painful as he carves marks for him to match onto himself.

He just can’t wait, and when he finds you, he can even decorate himself better too - he’s already begun designing how he wants trails of flowers coming down from around his horns, creating designs on his scales, oh he will look so perfect.

Perturabo - IV

(Shared dreams)

Dreams were a waste of time, sleeping was a waste of time. 

There was always work to be done.

He had no use for the weakness that came from sleeping, from the exposure, the vulnerability it presented - if it were not for the biological requirement he would have done away with it all together. He could only be grudgingly thankful that his superior genes meant he needed very little sleep, and when he did, he was rarely cursed with such frivolity as dreams.

Until recently. 

Now, wherever he slept, he dreamt, but these dreams weren’t his own, they were not the past, the present or the future certainty of iron. They were another’s dreams, infecting his own, weakening him with laugher, and sunlight and- 

He slept less. 

Already he slept little, but now he pushed his primarch biology to the maximum, using every advantage, every stimulant, pushing himself beyond the maximum of exhaustion and ignoring what came when he closed his eyes.

It worsened. 

Butterflies haunted him, a swarm of great yellow swallowtails fluttering in the corner of his eye, disappearing when looked at.

The phantom touch of a hand caressing his chin.

A whisper asking him why, begging him to come to bed.

Another cup of recaff is brought to his workshop, he ignores the ribbon swaying in an invisible breeze on the handle.

Jaghatai Khan - V

(Compass tattoo points to them)

The fields of Chogoris were perfect as always for riding, the thundering of hooves carrying him far over the barren grasslands. He had no destination in mind, just a simple ride where his hair could flow freely through the winds, but like always he found himself wandering in the direction it pointed. 

The compass had been a constant companion on his wrist, a marking that the tribal leaders told him would bring him a fortune greater than any lands he conquered.

It did not sit idly on his wrist, luckily not pointing so some distant planet across the galaxy, but only across the mountains and great blue seas. He took great pleasure in seeing it move, pointing across the horizon as he wondered where you were exploring today, hoping you had the same wanderlust and need to run as he did.

When he found you, he found perfection, a person made wholly for him. You matched him at every turn, supported and uplifted him, and better yet like him you did not age. His compass stopped spinning, morphing into a stunning tattoo that captured the very essence of the two of you combined.

It pained him greatly, when he had to leave you behind in charge of ruling Chogoris in his absence, but coming back to you with the galaxy a safer place and the knowledge that one day he’d be able to take you to see the stars by his side, once these crusades were over.

You didn’t age, they had all the time in the galaxy once his work was done, and he could not think of anyone better to take care of his beloved home planet.

The heresy was a mess, he worried for you constantly, but you were safe, Chogoris was safe, and he was to return to reinforce the Yasan sector where his homeworld resided now that it was all over.

You were not safe, you were GONE! 

The Great Khan raged, he knew what those foul eldar did to those they took.

The Drukhari would know no peace, they would know nothing but pain, and he swore unto every power that he would find you once more - what he wouldn’t give to have his compass back, what he wouldn’t give to have you by his side once more.

Leman Russ - VI

(Shared tastebuds)

He has no idea how he’s ever meant to find his mate. Not that it stops him from trying, just that it’s a stupid idea trying to find a soulmate among quintillions of humans by tasting what the other eats. 

Another downside being that their diet is decidedly shit.

Wet slop, wet slop, wet slop.

It’s always the same, no native fruit, fauna, meat - just wet slop, once a day, every other day. Which of course, narrowed it down to just over half of the human population’s factory workers or something similar.

While the slop wasn’t tasteless per say, at the very least he was providing interesting flavours for them, fresh meat, ale - everything you need in life.

More wet slop. 

Though he supposes it's a lie to say that’s all he ever tastes, on occasion the taste of harsh copper tinged blood fills his mouth, and he knows for certain it’s not his.

Wet slop, wet slop, slightly drier (but still pretty wet) slop.

He never thinks to complain about wet slop again when he starts tasting the dry, ashy mix of militarum rations, he can only hold on to some dying hope that his mate will preserve. 

Even knowing what fate it is that awaits them, he can’t wait to take care of them properly, he’ll make sure they never eat slop again.

Rogal Dorn - VII

(Timer counting down to meeting)

Tick, tick, tick. 

It makes no sound but he can mentally hear it ticking down constantly, like a metronome. The inevitability of his demise marching towards him, one tick at a time.

Ticking down to the moment he meets his soulmate, his other half, the one who will ‘complete him’. 

He’s heard the stories of people never having a care in the world about soulmates who meet them and fall in love. Worse yet, he’s seen it happen in even the most stoic of his brothers and sons. 

It was the ultimate distraction, and he had to ban the practice for the sake of the legion.

Tick, tick, tick.

Dread looms over him as he tries to shove the feeling down and finish the blueprint in front of him.

He must not lose focus, he must complete his mission, he must stand strong.

He can’t afford to love somebody, not with his duty. 

There is a plan in place, at least. Once he meets them, he will inform his most loyal sons, who will dutifully escort them away, off planet if necessary - relocate them somewhere remote and far away, never to inform him of their location. 

He will remain steadfast.

Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick…

Konrad Curze - VIII

(See in colour when soulmates first touch)

Inky blackness spills across his hands out across the deep grey cobbles, accompanied by the flooding taste of iron on his tongue.

Another worthless piece of criminal scum brought to justice. His rancid little accomplices would meet their swift ends soon also. 

The night is silent except for their screams, the snapping of their bones, the squelch of their organs. And the slowly fading gurgling of their victim in the alleyway behind. A shame he had been late to kill them before they inflicted their crimes upon the world, but at least they could die knowing justice had been served.

He organises the drab grey corpses to be skinned before deciding to drag the victim over to see his work, a rare act of kindness, showing at least someone his great deeds and handiwork. They might have lived if he sought medical attention for them first, but then one might have gotten away…

More pitch black liquid was leaking from their mouth, interspersed with little white bubbles now fading. He could hear their heart stuttering as he reached down to pick them up, they had only moments now - and red exploded across his hands. 

Sanguinius - IX

(Red string of fate)

He spends his youth chasing it down across the sky, flying up as far as the atmosphere will allow him before diving down and letting it snap back. 

It was a guide to him, across the barren landscape - that single, unbreakable red thread that ribboned through the air with him wherever he went. He never felt alone with you tethered to him, no matter how far you were.

He grows older and sees more of the universe, and of the future, and the happiness wavers, but meeting you is still the single best day of his life. You’ll be happy together for as long as you both live. 

Time seems to pass in a dreamlike state, living together, loving together freely - he understands the word ‘soulmate’ now.

Even with his inevitable doom on the horizon he takes great joy in living life with you, knowing at least he can make arrangements to keep you safe and cared for in his absence. 

It’s late 003.M31 when he sees it, and feels it will be soon.

How could he ever bear to tell you?

No, no, it would break you. Instead, he’ll ask his closest brother to take care of you for a short while, Horus would keep you well in his absence, he would make sure you were alright for him.

He’s alone, the thread snapped and tattered not meters out in front of him, leading to the cold void of space, like the void where he should feel you.

Blood fills the room, blood fills his lungs, he can just barely distinguish the thread from the red around it. He closes his eyes and hopes he’ll see you when he opens them.

Ferrus Manus - X

(First touch makes skin bloom in colour)

His fingertips are a dull black, bleeding the way up his hands and fading towards his wrist. Everyone who looks at him knows what it means - soulmate. He’ll touch them somewhere and mark them forever, and his own stains will bloom to light with colour.

Stoic as he is, even he can’t help but feel an undercurrent of excitement, there is someone out there for him, someone who will match him pace for pace, who will understand and balance him. 

He’s observed soulmates from afar on Medusa as he became a folk-tale, seen how they improve upon each other. The idea of someone existing who he could improve and would in turn improve him was thrilling.

They were gone now, after the fight.

It was a gruelling one, the great silver wyrm Asirnoth was not an easy beast, and though victory was ultimately his, as he examined his newly coated necrodermis he couldn’t help but wonder if the price was far too steep.

In their absence, he would simply have to pick up the slack in improving himself, there was no place for such weakness.

Angron - XII

(First words written on body)

Words plastered across his skin in angry red, the red of his own fresh blood, “My deepest apologies, my Lord, I didn’t mean-”

The words confused him as a child. Would he overhear them spoken from the mouth of another tortured soul to a cruel master, only to never see them again as they were torn apart? There were no happy endings for soulmates among slaves, there were no happy endings among slaves full stop.

Nothing removed the words, no cut or injury - it would just scab right over and words reform over scarred skin.

He spent every day waiting in agony for the words to start burning, for they day he’d hear them uttered, but that day never came.

He eventually understood what the context would inevitably be once his genefather retrieved him. 

He also understood something else, he did not need some silly little soulmate just waiting for him to wrap a hand around their neck when the nail bit. 

Roboute Guilliman - XIII

(Recieve things the other loses)

The 41st Millennium was exhausting.

A crumbling Imperium, dead brothers, fanatical worshippers, constant pain and exhaustion, the armour of fate-

Quite frankly, when he caught whichever son, serf or other decided pranking him was a good idea theoretically or practically he was going to wring them by the next.

It started with a child’s pacifier on his desk. Is that what they thought of him now? In secret? A petulant child? Perhaps they were instead mocking his father.

Following that, the occasional child’s toys or items would appear in his quarters, on his desk, in his bed, on one occasion in his bath. 

The investigations turned up nothing, and the entire Macragge’s Honour was on tense high alert. His sons were furious, running everyone ragged with increased patrols and interrogations.

Worse yet, someone had begun stealing from him. 

Just little things he thought he’d misplaced in his exhaustion at first, but then they couldn’t be found. A report here, a cup of recaff put down and never picked up again there…

Finally, after several long years, the rumours escape from the tight circle of sons when a colourful toddler’s sock is seen on his armour while he gives a speech. 

However, what follows is not what he had expected, the serfs watching were celebrating for him - a rare soulmate bond, receiving your other half’s lost items. He feels a little foolish for not having put it together in hindsight, but still such a bond was a rarity compared to a red string or first words, he had never assumed he would…

Still, the relief is palpable, and he feels himself growing excited over the thought of a soulmate, someone to be his other half in a lonely galaxy. Soon enough you’d be old enough to communicate through lost items - those missing reports might very well be a boon if they led you to him.

It sets him at ease to know you’re well cared for, the quality of items found indicates you’re from a good, moderately wealthy family and will likely have a good quality of life.

You must be seven or eight when he finds a piece of parchment in the armoury. He sees colourful scribbles and his heart soars, a drawing for him to treasure till he meets you. He mentally calculates the space he’ll need to make to display it on his office wall, should he have it framed perhaps-

It stays in his quarters, buried at the bottom of a hidden lock box, never to be seen again.

A drawing of a happy family, he supposes. A perfect family, if the ears weren’t quite so long.

Mortarion - XIV

(Body switching)

Everybody knew that on midnight of the Terran new year all soulmates switched bodies for 24h until you met them in person. It was always utter pandemonium, from active warzones to school teachers, once both partners were of age, no one was safe.

Mortarion had thought he was safe, and had thought incorrectly. Even being a daemon prince of Nurgle could not save him from the machinations of fate.

He hadn’t kept track of the date, so it was even more jarring when he woke up on a small, battered palette, back aching and joints popping, wondering what had happened in the warp to bring him to such a place.

A mundane room, on a mundane hive world, in a mundane body. A weak, fragile human body, not a weapon to hand. Panic begins to seize him, weak, weak, weak- he was weak all over again, and nothing he could possibly do would give him strength.

It’s an effort that leaves fingers bleeding and lungs heaving to rip out meagre furniture, piling it against the single door, barricading him in for the duration. He could endure a single day, he could- 

It would be every year now. He was bound to this fragile little mortal shell. By the Grandfather- they, they were in his body. So preoccupied by his own predicament he’d failed to even consider that another was in his body right now.

He could only imagine what they were feeling, the confusion, the horror, the revulsion. Being trapped in his rotting, decaying body, the sick scent of putrefaction, being stuck in the garden - without the mental blessings or fortitude to endure his fate.

He could endure a single day trapped in the horror of your failing mortal body, but could you withstand his corruption, what had he made of you? 

Magnus the Red - XV

(You each have one of the other's eyes)

Which one, which one. 

If he got this wrong - if he got this wrong he lost them forever, the potential of ever meeting them was gone.  

But it was his fault, he had to save his legion, his sons, and he was fairly sure he was right… No, he was sure he was right.

The ceremonial knife hovers over his right eye, a trade, a price he must pay to save his sons from the flesh-change. 

An eye was a heavy price for anybody to pay, but for someone who shared a pair of eyes with their soulmate? If he cut the wrong one out he would never be able to find them, that was the true price he paid here today, losing the chance to meet his other half.

He was always confident, thus far he had always known best, but deep down, in his gut, he had a sinking feeling he couldn’t shake that no matter what he did he would get today wrong in one way or another.

He switches, the blade lingering over his left socket, hands shaking.

There just wasn’t enough time, he had to choose now… 

Horus Lupercal - XVI

(Timer counting to the other's death)

It’s saddening, understandable, but saddening. He looks down at his wrist to see his mortal soulmate’s time ticking away, second by second. He knows precisely when they’ll die, which is in 6 years, 2 months, 11 days, 4 hours, 32 minutes, and 12, 11, 10... 

He’s come to terms with it, he’ll enjoy the time he gets with them, after all - they’ll be meeting for the first time shortly, and he’ll give them a better life than any human could ever dream of having for what’s left of it.

It’s bittersweet meeting them, but there’s something wrong, the look of vague horror on their face, he doesn’t quite-

He looks down at their arm, at his timer, the countdown to his own demise. He promised himself he wouldn’t but he can’t stop himself.

He- he’s a primarch. He- 

Why does he only have 15 years left.

Lorgar Aurelian - XVII

(Writing/tattoos appear on the other)

The last thing he was expecting to wake up to was neat calligraphy on the inside of his wrist, ‘Are you in a cult or something? Do you know how weird it is to walk about with crazy symbols all over your face?’

He stares in shock for a long time before falling to his knees before the altar in his room, praises for The One falling from his lips in prayers and hymns and thanks.

The One had seen fit to bless him with a soulmate, the greatest gift, a second half to his soul. After so long without he had thought…

No matter, he could write with them, speak with them. They clearly did not understand, but that did not matter, they would come to learn through him. 

Kor Phaeron would be so pleased, he had always admonished his lack of soulmate bond as a flaw within him to be punished, one strike for every day he went unblessed. A mark that he was not devout enough to be honoured with such a boon from The One.

He begins to write, paragraphs forming over every free inch of skin, ‘My dearest beloved, we have so much to speak on. These markings are of no mere false cult, you should bear them with the utmost pride as they-’

Vulkan - XVIII

(Shared feelings and thoughts)

Feeling his soulmate’s strong emotions and the occasional smatterings of thoughts to go along with them often happened at inopportune times, but never failed to make him smile - after all, he had a beloved little treasure waiting for him somewhere in the galaxy.

He was even managing to narrow down planets based on thoughts you’d had about the weather, terrain and such…

It pulled him through the hardest of times, your happiness, kindness, those little thoughts you unwittingly shared pushed him forward through the worst of the campaign, even your sadness, or anger reminded him of what he was fighting for, and it made him happy still to help you through it.

He’d found a correlation, the stronger your emotions, the more he felt them, with little wisps of thoughts to match.

Long nights are spent wondering what you feel from him, whether his joy at experiencing the bond bleeds through, whether feeling his strength makes you feel safe. When you finally meet you’ll be able to talk to each other from across the galaxy. He could speak with you while fighting campaigns, not having to truly leave you - he was so lucky to have such a bond.

Fear. Fear, fear, fear, fear. 

You were deathly afraid, so afraid it had his own hearts pumping as if he were in the midst of death throes in a fierce battle and not relaxing in the forge. Your thoughts are no help, an indecipherable jumble of utter terror.

In his mind’s eye he sees the snapping of jaws, wild and demonic in nature, and then he doesn’t feel fear ever again in his long, long life.

Corvus Corax - XIX

(Shared tattoo/marking)

Long, dark tendrils, stretching all the way down his right arm and half his back in a dizzying pattern of feathers, swirls and concentric shapes. A soulmate tattoo, or so he’d been taught by the slaves of Lyceaus that raised him. His soulmate would have the other matching half.

Many long nights were spent envisioning the type of person you’d be: a painter, who would be the soft lover to his harsh edges, in another fantasy you’re a fearsome warrior, battling alongside him.

He always imagined in every scenario that they represented freedom, the freedom he’d achieve for everyone.

He never imagines he’d meet you like this.

You’re everything he ever wanted, a freedom fighter, a radical, rising up against the unjust, and you’re here with him, on Lyceaus. By some cruel twist of fate you’d split through his fingers, having never been found despite being on the same desolate mining moon.

You were also dead. Slaughtered. A casualty. You’d died for freedom and you’d died a slave.

Face down and unmoving on the cold metal floor, blood pooling beneath you and hair splayed out wildly around you from the odd angle of your fall. Your half of the tattoo is deliberately exposed on your back.

He wonders if you looked at it and dreamt of freedom too.

Try as he might, after the battle no one is able to identify you. Everyone who knew you is dead, records are lost or destroyed - you remain nameless.

Alpharius/Omegon - XX

(Name on each others wrist)

It was rare, but not unheard of, to have two names on your wrists.

Alpharius & Omegon.

They weren’t on opposite wrists like two names traditionally were, but instead together on your left with matching handwriting and flourishes. 

You don’t find them, however, they find you. 

Life is a whirlwind those first few weeks, folded into cargo boxes, moved through ships, passed hands at least a dozen times before finally arriving in your new ‘home’. 

It was easy at first, understanding the need for secrecy when they tentatively explained the situation to you. 

It got harder very fast. No more family, no more friends, this room was your life now, and they were your only point of contact with the world at large. It wasn’t that they didn’t love you, or you them, it was just difficult. 

Long hours away, severe isolation, all the secrets weighing heavy on your heart and head.

You wish you could remember what sunlight felt like.

Slowly, slowly, you stop responding to much stimulus at all. You don’t greet them at the door with zeal, you don’t respond when they ask questions, eyes blank.

Later, you wake up alone in a hospital. Spotty memory, no recollection of the planet you’re on, a mysteriously full bank account, house deed in your name, the feeling you should be remembering something important, and a missing left hand.

Bonus: The Emperor

(Shared injuries)

The sheer panic in the throne room the day that the first injury appeared on him from absolutely nowhere was completely unparalleled. Custodes were shouting orders, apothecaries were being summoned, the whole palace was on high alert for an invisible intruder of some sort.

Meanwhile, the Emperor himself was staring down at his freshly skinned knee with a sort of strange excitement not seen before in many a millenia. 

The hunt to find you is immediate, not only since you inadvertently pose a great threat to the Emperor and thus Imperium with your ability to inflict your own injuries onto him but because he wanted you - he’d only waited tens of thousands of years to meet the one destined to be his other half, the one worthy to the the soulmate of the Emperor of Mankind.

He never gets to meet you, but sometime in the 35,000 you are brought to him, alike in corpse-like nature. Despite this, you’ve been dressed up in exquisite finery, fit for your role.

The custodes climb the golden throne, gently nestling you onto his lap, carefully pulling a skeletal arm around to support you.

Thousands of years go by. 

[diabolicalevil]

Riffing on the Primarch break up headcanons and the marrying someone else headcanons, what if the beloveds marriage to someone else was aragnged? Maid of Honor slips a note explaining the clusterfuck to a member of the legion, who passes it to the Primarch. How do you HC the ensuing debacle goes down?

Primarchs finding out you were forced into an arranged marriage

gn!reader

ohh I hadn't even though about it while writing the og post lol. they're not too different from the orginal I suppose

@thethronezone incase you're interested in the part 2

cont. of this post

Warnings: none

Lion El'johnson: Yeah he would still challenge them to a duel just, like, To the Death I guess. He has a protector kink I'd say? While this situation is horrible and sad for both of you he does get off a wee bit on the fact he's rescuing you. As soon as you're back in his "custody" he's locking you in the princess tower.

Fulgrim: Mobilises his legion to sabotage the wedding as he goes in to profess his love and air out the situation VERY publicly. rip fulgrim u would've loved telenovellas

Perturabo: Annoyingly smug. he Sucks guys. Oh you were forced into this? Yeah I bet you were. cause you're just a sad, helpless, weak little stupid baseline, aren't you? Privately threatens your fiance and the situation magically resolves.

Jaghatai Khan: Yeah I don't think the nature of the marriage would stop him from stealing/eloping/kidnapping you. Whatever you wanna call it again ur gawn.

Leman Russ: The Space Wolves would DEFINITELY sabotage the wedding in this case. Explodes ur fiancé's head right on the stage sorrryyy.

Rogal Dorn: He'll object but also has 500 contingency plans in case you don't want to leave, can't leave, hostage situation, fiance is powerful war wise, if the carpets are an ugly colour etc etc he's thought it all through.

Konrad Curze: KILL MAIM BURN KILL MAIM BURN KILL MAIM BURN

Sanguinius: Air strikes! Doesn't bother professing his love publicly, it's not for the ears of your fiance or anyone who went along with this. Soft launches a proposal as he's giving a speech to his legion about another successful attack.

Ferrus Manus: Still angry, but also disgusted. He ultimately believes in the good of humanity but considers this a sick and disgusting thing to do. He let's some of his idiot sons out of their stupid cage as extra intimidation and just, walks out the venue with you. lol

Angron: KILL MAIM BURN but not from him, surprisingly. He too is letting his idiots off their leash with the promise of whoever retrieves the fiancé's head gets a pat on the shoulder from him. This is a Lie. He picks you up and fucks off.

Roboute Guilliman: Frantic but livid. He's going through all the correct procedures of "rescuing" you and calling off the wedding but he is barely containing the urge to rip your fiancé's lung from his chest. Well, he wouldn't do it in the moment but mysteriously he turned up dead? huh, weird.

Mortarion: Annoying Motherfucker lmao. A part of him believes this isn't true and that you actually wanted this. In his self loathing he would miss the chance to act in the moment and gave to *rectify it later. *read: kill with poison

Magnus: mind control, its very effective.

Horus Lupercal: Objects but he's less Cunt about it. He's just fucking angry and is rapidly approaching with intent to kill as he half confesses half threatens everyone present.

Lorgar Aurelian: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (occasionally turns to your fiance and condemns him to hell) (the word bearers are gonna fucking GET him)

Vulkan: He'd never kill a human for no valid reason but he's honestly debating whether or not this counts as a valid reason. He objects and proposes very romantically and frankly, who's gonna stop a man that size from just walking off with you?

Corvus Corax: Grits his teeth and let's it go through. He doesn't want you to have the association as his romantic interest because it would endanger you. But mysteriously your husband turns up dead oh no you'll just have to come under the protection of his legion because there's a killer out there.

Alpharius & Omegon: sabotaged the wedding with their weird minion sons And they are going to kill your husband. Maybe take his place maybe not but he won't stay alive

okkii hopefully this was different enough from the last one and entertaining

[thatnightlamp]

MORTARION NSFW ALPHABET.

Tag: @incrediblethirst @jackalwolfsoul

A = Aftercare

Blunt and awkward, but deeply attentive. He doesn’t talk much—just lays beside you, arm slung protectively over your waist. He cleans you up with a wet cloth like it’s part of his duty. You have to coax him into staying in bed. He acts like he’s ashamed of needing it.

B = Body Part

Your neck and collarbones. He has a fixation of feel the pulse of life rushing through you, breathing you in, pressing his mouth there, biting softly, almost reverently.

C = Cum

Hot and surprisingly thick, with a scent like ozone and metal. He doesn’t like wasting it. He prefers to finish deep inside, groaning low when he watches it drip out of you. It makes something primal in him settle—like proof you’re his.

D = Dirty Secret

He sometimes slips into your room late at night and just... watches you sleep. Breathing your clean air. Fantasizing about touching you. The first few times you fucked? He didn’t sleep for days, replaying it in obsessive silence.

E = Experience

Limited but intense. He knows pain, not pleasure, so everything with you is trial and error. He treats your body like sacred terrain— carefully, hesitantly. Once he gets comfortable, he learns fast, and with a terrifying amount of control.

F = Favorite Position

Missionary, but not for eye contact, he buries his face in your throat, growling into your skin. Or from behind, pressed down into the furs of his quarters. He doesn’t want you to see his face when he loses control.

G = Goofy

Not even close. Mortarion doesn’t joke during sex. His seriousness can feel oppressive at first, but if you tease him gently and break that wall, he gets quietly flustered, lips twitching with the ghost of a smile.

H = Hair

Naturally sparse body hair due to Barbarus’s poisoned environment. His pubic hair is minimal, pale, and wiry. Neatly trimmed, more out of practicality than grooming. He doesn’t care about yours either way, but he notices everything.

I = Intimacy

Incredibly tense at first. Mortarion is not used to being touched, desired, or loved. But if you show him patience, he starts melting slowly. His intimacy is silent: resting his forehead on yours, shivering when you kiss his chest, clinging like he’ll break if you let go.

J = Jack off

Rare, grim, and shameful. He doesn’t indulge unless it’s unbearable, and even then, he resents how badly he needs you. You’ve caught him once, hunched over in his warplate, whispering your name like a curse.

K = Kink

Breath control. Gentle, symbolic, he wants to feel your breath stutter against his palm.

Praise kink. He denies it, but hearing “you’re doing good, my love” undoes him.

Worship. Not in the submissive sense, but like you are sacred, and he’s unworthy

L = Location

His personal chambers, cold, dim, filled with strange incense and relics. Or deep in the toxic wilds of Barbarus, where the air could kill anyone but you and him. He likes isolation. He wants you where no one else will ever find you.

M = Motivation

Touch. Softness. You. The feel of your fingers in his hair. The way you say his name like it’s not a curse. He doesn’t know how to ask for love, but the moment you offer it? He breaks. You’re the only clean thing in his ruined world.

N = No

No mockery. No public play. No emotional manipulation. He doesn’t want to perform desire, he wants the real, raw thing. If you laugh at him or feign arousal, it wounds him more than any blade.

O = Oral

Receiving. Mortified by it at first. The first time you drop to your knees, he stiffens, refusing to let you. But once he lets go… oh, the sounds he makes— rasping, breathless, disbelieving.

P = Pace

Slow and brutal. Like a storm rolling in. He builds tension until you’re trembling, and then pounds into you with wild desperation. He doesn’t know how to be playful, it’s always need, always devouring.

Q = Quickie

Rare. He’s too methodical, too fixated on control. But if something snaps, say you’re both bloodied after a battle, he’ll pin you against a wall, tear your clothes, and rut into you like an animal, breath hitching, mouth biting skin to stay quiet.

R = Risk

Low appetite for dangerous experimentation. Mortarion has been hurt too much. But if he trusts you, he’ll try anything, as long as you guide him. He likes whispered suggestions. Gentle pushing. He wants to give you what you want.

S = Stamina

Unreal. He doesn’t even breathe hard until after round three. His body was built to survive poison air, and this? This is nothing. But mentally, emotionally, he breaks easier. The sex lasts long. The aftermath? Shaking hands. Clenched jaw. Guilt. Longing.

T = Toys

None, at first. But once he trusts you? He’ll use anything you like, for you. He doesn’t care for using them on himself, but watching you squirm under a vibrating plug while he whispers how beautiful you are? That? He loves.

U = Unfair

Very. He’ll edge you for hours if he’s in a dark mood. Not out of cruelty, but because he needs to watch you fall apart slowly. It’s control. It’s safety. It’s punishment, sometimes for himself.

V = Volume

Low growls, hisses, gasps that sound almost angry. He tries not to make noise, trained himself into silence. But the moment you hit a sensitive spot? He makes a sound like he's being broken open. It’ll haunt you, in the best way.

W = Wild Card

He has a habit of sleeping in your clothing when you’re away. Tucking your worn tunic under his nose, breathing it in like a dying man remembering the sun.

X = X-ray

Massive. Pale and veined, with a slight curve upward. He’s wide more than long, the kind of cock that stretches you. He doesn’t thrust hard unless you beg, but when he does? You feel it in your ribs. Always cold to the touch until he’s buried in heat.

Y = Yearning

Terrifyingly high, but completely repressed. He wants you constantly but denies himself until he’s snarling with frustration. One touch from you and he shatters, dragging you down into the sheets like a man possessed.

Z = Zzz

Sleeps like the dead afterward. Curled around you tightly, one arm around your middle, face hidden in your neck. You’re the only reason he sleeps at all. If you try to move, he grumbles and holds tighter, like letting go will kill him.

[hereticalarchives]

Listen. I know the primarch to normal human height difference is so insane, but that doesn't stop my feral urge to just curl around them.

Like I don't care if it looks funky, I'd big spoon their heads, curled around them like a cat. They cannot escape.

And you know what tbh, most of them need the emotional comfort of someone at least attempt to big spoon them if not cuddle them at all.