candorarchives

[candorarchives]

NSFW Alphabet for the Emperor?? 👉👈 please?

THE EMPEROR NSFW ALPHABET

Tags: @iluminatka16, @absynthe-mind, @justfreakynothingelse , @lovingthewildlife, @thisuserislilsilly , @ilisteria, @xx-rabidpossum-xx

ilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehimilovehimihatehim

A = Aftercare

He doesn’t do aftercare. Not the way you want. He’ll cradle your trembling body like a prized object, kiss your shoulder, and say “You’re welcome.” If you're crying, he’ll hush you like a pet that's overwhelmed by pleasure it couldn’t handle. But softness? Not quite. His comfort is laced with ego.

B = Body part

His hands. Large, elegant, inhumanly steady. Sculptor’s hands, surgeon’s hands, god's hands. They were made to mold galaxies and instead, they press around your throat like a crown of thorns.

C = Cum

He finishes deep. Every time. The Emperor does not waste his essence. You’ll feel it hot and overwhelming, filling you again and again. And when it leaks out of you? He’ll make you lick it from your fingers and thank him for the honor.

D = Dirty secret

He needs to be adored. Not loved, worshipped. He’ll pretend he doesn’t care, but if you ever try to leave him? He will break you. Mind, body, and heart. Then put you back together, beautiful and obedient.

E = Experience

He’s immortal. A lover of queens, saints, and sinners. He knows your body before you do. Every flick of his fingers is deliberate, every thrust timed to perfection. He’ll ruin you while humming softly, like he's bored of being perfect.

F = Favorite position

You on your knees, choking, your face pressed to his thigh. His hand in your hair, holding you still as he speaks of the stars he’s conquered while fucking your throat raw. Alternatively? Bent over his throne, because it reminds you what you are: his subject.

G = Goofy

Never. His humor is cruel, condescending. He’ll laugh when you sob. He’ll chuckle when you say you love him, like it's a naive little joke. And then he’ll kiss your tears away and say, “Of course you do. I made you that way.”

H = Hair

Long, immaculate, and always shining, he doesn’t have body hair in the traditional sense. His divine form is smoothed by psychic control. But he’ll let you tangle your fingers in it only when he wants to humble himself before you and he’ll pretend you begged for it.

I = Intimacy

He fakes it like a professional. He’ll cradle your face, call you “My beloved”, and thrust into you like it’s divine ritual. But it’s always a little cold beneath the gold. Yet… sometimes, just sometimes, his grip trembles. His mouth lingers. He doesn’t speak. You pretend you didn’t notice.

J = Jack off

He doesn’t masturbate. That’s beneath him. But he’ll watch you do it, command you to show him how needy you get, how wet you are without his touch.

K = Kink

Control. Worship. Degradation. Psychic domination. He like to bend you beneath his will. He wants you sobbing in devotion, broken on your knees, calling him your god not because you believe it but because there’s nothing left of you that doesn’t.

L = Location

His throne room. His war table. His sanctum. Places where no one dares disturb him. He’ll fuck you across sacred texts and then make you swear oaths while still full of his seed. He makes every surface his altar and your body is his pulpit.

M = Motivation

Your devotion. Your inability to resist. The way you crawl back after he’s destroyed you again and again. Knowing you hate how much you love him is his favorite aphrodisiac.

N = No

He will never be submissive. He’ll never beg. Never ask. He takes. He commands. If you try to top him, he’ll let you play along… right until he flips you and shows you why no one rules the Emperor.

O = Oral

Receiving. He watches you from above, hand fisted in your hair, voice like silk: “Do it properly. Make me believe you’re worthy.” And when you do, he grunts and finishes down your throat.

P = Pace

Cruel and controlled. He holds you on the edge for hours, denying your release until you sob. Or he pounds into you like a war god and expects you to take it. There is no middle ground. Only what he decides.

Q = Quickie

He finds them amusing. A moment of mercy. A punishment disguised as a treat. He’ll lift your robes and take you standing in a corridor, no prep, no softness, just a single hand around your throat and your body trembling from the impact.

R = Risk

What risk? He’s the God Emperor of Mankind. He’ll take you in front of His sons, on a battlefield, in the Eye of Terror. Risk is irrelevant. His power shields you from everything except Himself.

S = Stamina

Infinite. He doesn’t tire. He doesn’t stop. You’ll break long before He does. He’ll let you rest sometimes. But not because He needs it. Because He likes watching you fall asleep wrecked, twitching, leaking.

T = Toys

Why use toys when he can twist your body with a thought? But he keeps a few: relics from the Dark Age of Technology, humming with forbidden energy. They lock inside you, buzz with psychic feedback, and make you weep before he even touches you.

U = Unfair

He’s a monster when it comes to teasing. He’ll stop mid-thrust. He’ll hold you in place with psychic chains, edge you with one flick of His finger until you're crying. He feeds on your desperation.

V = Volume

Low. Controlled. His voice in bed is like velvet and thunder. You’ll feel it more than hear it. His growls when he finishes inside you sound like tectonic plates grinding and they echo in your chest long after he's gone.

W = Wild card

He once erased your memory so he could fuck you again for the "first" time. You didn’t even know until the third round when he called you by your old name, one you never told him.

X = X-ray

Inhumanly thick. Veined with golden psychic glow. Smooth head, foreskin tight when soft, flared when hard. His cock radiates heat and faint psychic pressure, you’ll feel it in your thoughts as it stretches you open.

Y = Yearning

His need isn’t physical, it’s existential. You are His chosen. He wants to consume you, devour your worship, undo you until you’re hollowed out and filled with nothing but Him. His need is endless but it’s not about sex. It’s about conquest.

Z = Zzz

He doesn’t sleep. You pass out first, boneless and bruised. He lies awake beside you, staring at your form like a god who cannot understand why the shrine matters so much.

[candorarchives]

Writing Tip - Writing Without Fear

More writing tips

Alright, how many of us have sat down, ready to write, only to suddenly hit a wall? We all get stumped every once in a while when it comes to plotlines, but sometimes we get hit with something else—a wave of fear.

What do I mean by fear? When we’re writing something we’re passionate about, we sometimes feel this urge to make it perfect. We want to create vivid descriptions, write strong characterizations, and polish every detail. But then, before we know it, we stop simply because we’re scared we’re going to mess it up. If you’re writing fanfiction based on a franchise, the pressure can be even worse. You might worry about creating a poor adaptation of something you love.

Then comes the second-guessing. Does this storyline make sense? Did I write the characters wrong? Did I use too much description—or not enough? Are there typos, grammar mistakes, or other inconsistencies? The more you overthink, the harder it becomes to write. And if you’ve received criticism in the past, the pressure to “redeem yourself” can make it even more overwhelming.

I’ve been there. Honestly, I still have moments where I’m unsure. But the way I work through it is by writing without fear. We all strive to be great writers. While I absolutely agree we should put effort into creating something amazing, we also need to accept that it doesn’t have to be flawless on the first try. Writing is just one step in the process. There’s no rule that says you have to nail a chapter in one go. That’s what proofreading and revising are for.

I usually look through my chapters at least three times after I’ve written them. That’s because when I’m drafting, my brain isn’t in “edit mode”—it’s in “storytelling mode.” I focus on getting the story down first and worry about edits later. I don’t pressure myself to get everything perfect the first time. When I revisit the draft, I notice things to improve: maybe I rephrase a sentence, rewrite dialogue, fix errors, or even cut out something that doesn’t work.

So here’s the takeaway: don’t let fear crush your creativity. Writing is a learning process for all of us. Don’t stress about perfection or about living up to other writers’ expectations. Focus on telling your story and being your best self. If you face what you fear, you’ll overcome it.

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Becoming a writer is great because now you have a hobby that haunts you whenever you don’t have time to do it

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MAY YOU NEVER LOSE YOUR HYPERFIXATION

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You ever think about how the Emperor was mentally preparing himself to get betrayed or left by Malcador, because, come on, so many perpetuals he thought would stay did not. He tried to not get attached to the Sigillite. Sometimes he was successful. Sometimes he wasn't. It's all for his master plan, he must he prepared to the possibility of Malcador leaving him, have a contingency plan. He never fully trusted Malcador. The Emperor could count on him in most circumstances, but he didn't trust him in everything...

... And then, Malcador sacrifices himself to the Golden Throne, believing his master able to take down Horus. Malcador gives up this one last thing he has left, the most important thing anyone could give up: their life.

And it is only at that moment does the Emperor realizes that he was paranoid, that this man was there for him this whole time, that he could trust Malcador in everything... But it's already too late.

The title of "Malcador the Hero" was a way for the Emperor to thank his friend, to apologize to him and to immortalize his fealty. To have a constant reminder of what he had lost.

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he is the master of mankind by the will of the gods

(no citizen, you may not ask 'which gods')

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All the now children primarchs have discovered the wonders of minecraft.The Emperor being now forced to be the moderator and peacemarker after six differents fight involving buildings being destroyed , the ownerships of the wolves and the distribuation of the ore.

Okay, for context: since there's 18 of them, I think they'd have a room set up with a screen for each of them to use, and they'd play on a server together. So big E can see all their screens at once, too.

He wished Malcador had not brought the game up from the vaults.

Leman and Magnus had gotten into a screaming match over who the dog belonged to. Perturabo was raging over his base, getting blown up with TNT. He insisted it was Dorn.

Corvus was guarding the chests Vulkan used so others wouldn't steal his hard earned ore.

Fulgrim and Lorgar were trying to stop Konrad from killing any villagers he found. Lion would hunt his brothers down.

He had warned them that if this continued, he would ground them and take away the server.

He finally realized he'd have to teach them how with the final straw.

Angron came into his office, bawling. His brothers were constantly "griefing" his house and making fun of it. In a rage, he'd thrown and broken his controller. After that, he burst into tears and came running.

The emperor picked him up and headed to the game room.

Angron hadn't calmed down, "I-I-I like building wi-with dirt! I like the-the grass, and I w-w-wan-wanted to plant flo-owers on top of it! But-but they keep des-destroying it and calling it a-a-a t-toilet house!!"

He rubbed his sons back, "I won't let them do that anymore. You'll get your garden house."

When he entered the room, Roboute was yelling as Omegon lit his house on fire. Mortarion was being mobbed and killed from his spawn point over and over again by Horus and Sanguinius. Something about their cows.

"Enough," the Emperor said. "Sit down, all of you."

It grew silent, and they did so.

"I am taking away the game," he informed then.

Ferrus folded his arms and folded in on himself. Vulkan started to cry.

"Unless you can show me you can be kind and work together," he finished. "I am going to stay in here as you learn. There will be no griefing. No stealing. No killing. No, making fun of each other. You are better than this."

Shame covered their faces.

"Where is Angron's controller?"

Lorgar spoke up, "It's broken. He can use mine. I like the keyboard better."

The emperor wiped Angron's cheeks and set him down. Lorgar hugged his brother and gave him the controller.

It was dead silent as he sat down and they played.

"Corvus, come to the nether with me," Vulkan said excitedly. "You don't need to guard the chests anymore."

"But they might still come take it," Corvus said.

"I am watching," the emperor told his sons.

Lorgar asked, "Can I come?"

"Yeah!"

"I have too much stone," Fulgrim announced.

Dorn said he'd take it.

Konrad was diving into water and looking for drowned to take out.

"A wolf!" Leman yelled. "I need bones!"

"I'm coming," Mortarion said.

Angron had stopped sniffling and had a pleasant smile on his face as he collected various flowers.

"Jaghatai, where are you?" Alpharius questioned. "Are you lost?"

"Look up," The Khan replied.

Alpharius moved the camera to see his brother in the trees above him.

"Oh," he said.

"Help me get apples," Jagh requested. "There's a herd nearby."

Lion and Horus were competing on who could kill the most monsters.

Sanguinius was building rafters when he fell off and into the ravine he was next to.

He sighed as he respawned.

Roboute helped Dorn with his fortress. Ferrus was mining for Perturabo. Fulgrim was building with Redstone.

"What's this thing?" Lorgar asked.

"No, dont!" Vulkan yelled.

Lorgar had piglins on his screen and hit one. He began screaming as all the piglins began attacking him.

"They're killing me! They're killing me!" He yelled.

"Don't fight back!" Vulkan insisted. "Hit one, and they all come after you! Let yourself die, and we'll get your stuff - no, no, no, no!"

Lorgar ran and fell off the ledge unto the lava below.

"We can't get your stuff now," Corvus told him.

Lorgar was mostly in shock at what had just happened.

"Father, come see my house!" Angron called out.

The Emperor stood and came over to Angron's screen. His dirt house was built into a hill. Flowers and a few other plants covered it.

"I used bone powder to make them grow faster!" Angron explained. "Isn't it pretty?"

"It is," smiled the emperor.

[candorarchives]

big E and malcador are truly the funniest relationship in 40k. theyre married, theyre bros, theyre coworkers in way too deep and theyre each others greatest enemies. thank god belisarius cawl was not present for 30k that throuple wouldve destroyed galaxies

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another old wip i wanted to polish up ;w; love u big e...

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Thy writing is most wondrous, and I have a humble request to ask of thee, -if thou wouldst permit such indulgence. I need your yandere!emperor of mankind carnally. Noncon/dubcon smut please. Maybe some time after he kidnaps reader, he has his way with them? They do have certain needs after all, their mind is so very easy to slip into and read which he would be more than happy to fulfill, unwillingly or no, -and it has been a while since they have gone without interacting with anyone else. *~🌷🤍

“Why thank you, great one! But one wonders… what makes this HUGE red flag man so attractive?😭 Is it because he’s a DILF? A DILF That’s not DILFin’?? Either way, I’m drowning indulging with you in this heresy, 🌷🤍.”

"I honestly didn't expect the Emperor to get much lovin'. So, this more of a Flash Fiction, but in the future? Maybe I can redo it? Make it longer? Though, please do still enjoy the Flash Fiction of this."- Ichor

Summary - “Bass boosted more into the future. The asks’ explains the best.☺️”

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666.” - Tagged

TW // Smut, Non-Con/Dub-Con(I do not condone these actions,) Jump In Smut, Biting, Breeding Talk-ish, Mind Fuckery.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| {Chapter III} - {Chapter V}

You groan into “Anathema” or rather The Emperors mouth. Your hands pushing up against his chest while tears run from your eyes only for them to be streaked away from The Emperors thumb. His body over shadowing yours, capturing you in a strange darkness as your body slowly bounces. The only thing light enough being his eyes that pin you down despite already being stuck on his cock that feels like it shapeshifts inside of you.

"A-Anathema." You whimper his name he introduced himself to you as. Your lips quivering as you do, trying to get you own god damn mind straight after this liar was messing with you, fucking with you. Breathless gasps leaving you as he seems the golden bastard had picked up his pace for a second, touching all the best spots inside of you in one, full thrust.

"Shhh, my little wife." He coos so sweetly down at you. His forehead coming down from above you to nuzzle against your own. His own breath not even mingling with yours while he slows his pace again, teasing you, savoring you each second your walls constrict around him. "You wanted this, didn't you?"

"I-I-" You try to get a word out, even a damned slur, but you can't. Your back arching while your brain felt too foggy. Too... Swirly, like someone was rearranging your own mind, consuming it. He was fucking with your mind, making your subconscious submit as you can feel something within your mind flicker in and out of it. Your hands slowly weakening against The Emperors chest, making him purr down at you.

"Oh Yes... yes you do." He moves above you. His hands coming down to completely wrap around your waist. A beaming smile being directed down at you as if he wasn't doing anything wrong, as if he wasn't fucking you against your will for hours upon his own silk sheeted bed and quarters of a war struck universe. "I can seek your mind, my little wife."

"F-Fuck you." You could only curse and spit at him before arching back onto his bed. Your own body betraying you against your will. Your mind doing that weird flickering thing again.

"My, your mouth never seems to know its place." He sighs, moving his forehead from yours to kiss your cheek before thrusting his tongue into your gasping mouth, muffling your noises of surprise and unsought pleasure. That wet appendage of his swirling around yours, extending and expanding that it bamboozles your mind as no other human could do that.

You do try and bite back at him: at his tongue, but with how his appendage fills your mouth? It's like he was suffocating you. Trying to rid you of your own subconscious, and just about when you slip? He pulls back, letting you regather that precious oxygen that you need for him to continue to do these vile things to you. Your body heaving stammering breaths as he doesn't stop his movement to keep you deeply and slowly fucked to his satisfaction.

"There we go..." He groans softly, leaning his forehead against yours' again. His pace picking up again then slowing to keep you on the edge, on the brink of insanity. "You like this, don't you? Being loved by a being of high power? To be bred by me."

"N-no- gah!" You gasp as he gives you a particular thrust up inside of you that makes you see black stars and turns your mind to mush, making it easier for The Emperor to make you more compliant. To replace your will with his own. To manipulate that little fighting mind of yours. "Y-yes!"

"Oh, such a sweet thing..." He purrs again, moving his head to nuzzle into your neck and give it a bite, tasting your sweat coated skin. A hum coming out him right after as he can feel your mind slowly fall apart from his mental attacks and physical. He can feel how your arms suddenly come up to wrap around his head and tangle through the roots of his dark locks, tugging at them, and moaning those sweet, "willing" sounds into his ear.

His pacing is suddenly quicker, quicker than what he was teasing you with. His teeth softly latching onto your collarbone. The taste of your blood immediately swirling through his taste buds, but he doesn't care for that, no. He was actually being considerate and wanting to give you that climax that has he has been laying you off with. His body practically laying on top of you, squishing you against him, chest to chest: keeping you pinned underneath him as if he seemed afraid to let you go.

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HERETIC

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Emperor of Mankind: I cherish my beloved Custodians and this is why I give them Sister of Silence each. For company and moral support.

Primarch, his own literal gene-child: May I have partner for company Father?

Emperor of Mankind: No. Go fuck yourself.

[candorarchives]

I need you to understand how viscerally this image fucks me up, it gives almost TTS energy (from Big E's pov of course). I know for a fact that it's mainly the Waffle House that gets me, but let's be honest. Waffle House worships chaos. There's definitely a Waffle House somewhere in the warp.

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Are 40k people even on Tumblr...?🤔 Cause that's what I realistically draw most of the time - space boys, and here's the main guy for you (from 5 years ago🤫) - the Emperor himself, one of the few versions I created over the years. Yes, I'm the one who also did the big one with all the Primarchs. Follow my super cool new page cause other social media suuuuuuck.✨✨✨ k thanx bye mwah

[candorarchives]

me: i wanna talk about my ocs

someone: ok tell me about your ocs

me, suddenly convinced that every single thing about my ocs is stupid and cringy and probably offensive: i. have them

[candorarchives]

"I would kill for you. I would die for you" would you take a break for me? Would you sit down and rest? For a day, a week, a year? Would you let others take care of your needs for me? Would you let yourself be held for me? By me?