#Lorgar/Reader

[mothiir]

made to be a devotee

cw: lorgar jerking it. that’s it that is the plot. for @moodymisty

—

—

It is not the first time that Lorgar has taken himself in hand while thinking of you, and it will not be the last. Lying on his austere bed, staring at the ceiling — after pointedly turning the statues of the Emperor to face the wall — he strokes himself root to tip, his shaft thickening eagerly.

He does this not because he wants to, but because he must. You are a good woman — kind, clever, bright-eyed and curious, and you speak with him about his books in a way that so few dare — and he will not dishonour you with his lust. When the time is right, when the crusade is done, he will take you as his wife in the sight of the Emperor, and then — and only then — will he bed you. He allows himself a moment to dwell on the glorious future: Monarchia, resplendent in gold, its people rejoicing at their lord’s nuptials; you, clad in white, your belly already starting to swell with child —

His forehead furrows a little. No, that’s not right: you cannot be pregnant until after the wedding. After. He alters his daydream minutely. Now you wear a dress of shimmering bronze, your pregnant belly testament to the exertions of your wedding night. It is the — anniversary? Or it is a celebration of his Father’s latest victory? It matters not. The point is you, holding his wrist as you parade before your people; or you, straddling his lap that night, your skin painted gold in candle light. My lord husband, you will say.

He strokes himself again, harder, as the image shifts a little, memory replacing fantasy. The last time he saw you — the incident that prompted this latest shameful session — you had been in the library, a book open on your lap. You were hunched over it, in a Astartes-sized chair, the noontime sun catching in your hair. The very point of your pink tongue had snuck out, moistening your finger before you turned a page.

Lorgar had executed a speedy strategic retreat. If he had stayed — oh if he had stayed. Well. He would have seated himself in the armchair, arranged you on his lap — far more comfortable for you that way. He would have replaced your thumb with his, and let you suckle on it, your cheeks hollowing as you peered up to him. You would like the taste of his skin, he’s certain. “There. Good girl.”

You’d like being called good. You are always so keen for approval, so desperate to please. So keen. He’d sneak in another finger, maybe, letting your lips stretch around them, drool slipping down towards his knuckles. He’d fuck your throat with his fingers first — preparing you, letting you get used to him —

And it wouldn’t cause you any shame, Lorgar thinks, starting to fuck his fist in earnest. No shame, because it isn’t sex, is it? He would still be able to take you as a virgin bride, like you deserved, pure as the driven snow, untainted by his baser feelings. All he would do is let you suck his fingers, just a little. Work your mouth open on them. Feel your sweet, blunt teeth against his flesh. Maybe he would reach a little deeper — into the wet channel of your throat, until you hiccuped around his digits. He would try to pull his hand free, but you would take his wrist. Suck harder. Pleading wordlessly to let him continue. Wanting him to take his pleasure with you, to abuse your throat, because he is your Primarch, your lord, your master —

Lorgar’s breath catches. He grasps himself harder, hips rolling up.

He would decline of course. He couldn’t possibly. Would never. Could never. You’re too good for it, too pure, you’re worth more — but you wouldn’t care. You’d say you want him even if it means being his whore.

He would be powerless to resist as you knelt before him —

Lorgar pauses, opens his eyes. Looks over at one of his desk chairs and does a few mental calculations. You probably wouldn’t have to kneel — merely bend over a little. And yet — no, the visual of you kneeling is far too pleasing to let go of. He adjusts the height of the library chair. There: now you have to kneel before the chair with uncommonly long legs.

Where was he? Yes: you’re sucking at his head now, using both of your tiny hands to milk him onto your tongue. Greedy for him, even though you can barely swallow an inch of his prick. You spit on his cock, then look somewhat embarrassed at your boldness. He urges you on —

Lorgar can feel his orgasm building. He squeezes the base of his prick, letting the scene change again: he has his face buried in your cunt, your thighs bracketing his face as he licks deeper into you, your mewling cries almost insensible save his name: Lorgar, Lorgar. A victory cry, a hymn, a call to worship. Lor-gar please, Lord Lorgar please —

The image changes one more time, almost against his will. He’s spilling inside you, your body clinging to his prick, warm and welcoming and tight and home —

He cums so hard he sees stars, his seed splashing up onto his abdomen. Still hazy with climax, he wishes you were there to lick him clean. And then the rose-gold dozy feeling wanes away, and he is sticky and alone and ashamed.

Not yet. But soon. Soon, he shall have you where you belong: his bride, in his bed, and under him.

[moodymisty]

Can I get Lorgar being grumpy cause he's away from his lover for too long during a campaign, and when he gets back, he just scoops her up and steals her away with orders not to be bothered?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Oh sweet, another chance for me to go absolutely fucking apeshit about Lorgar. This fic I wrote sortof as a soft continuation of this little universe I've been building with Lorgar. But can also be read totally independent. Hope this is acceptable <3

Relationships: Lorgar/Fem!Reader (no pronouns are used it's just kinda the vibe if that makes sense)

Warnings: Lorgar's toxic mercurial attitude, but other than that pretty warning free considering it's Warhammer 40k content

Word Count: 1177

The Astartes of the Word Bearers are used to the emotional volatility of their Primarch. However it seems that an extended period of time aboard the Fidelitas Lex with no reprieve has irritated the Primarch more so than usual, however for reasons that remain a mystery to them.

The only thing that manages to quell it even somewhat is Colchis in view from the bridge of the gargantuan battleship- and that, for the time being, their conquest halts.

Lorgar often writes during these times apart, putting his written thoughts to parchment about his ideas, his successes and failures during the crusade; How he misses you.

This time as he was far from Colchis for so long, and since Lorgar had been growing frustrated and writing is soothing to him, the pile is significant. He seems to treat them almost like a journal of sorts, spouting fears and irritations that he's held deep within himself. His anger oftentimes boils over so much so that it even seems to bleed into the very paper he's writing on, during.

Now it bleeds out of him, and everyone close enough to pays by his person feels it and keeps their distance. He walks with purpose, outpacing almost anyone around him. He's already removed his armor in the chambers dedicated for it, where it hangs prepared for the next time he must don it.

For now, it is nothing but an inconvenience. He's pleased to get it off, to feel air on his skin. The fabric of his robes is far more comfortable as he's now in the refuge of his own fortress.

And now that he is here, off of the Fidelitas Lex and no longer so long away from what he wants most, he has a singular goal currently in mind.

The Astartes standing guard at the entrance to the private wing tilt their helmets ever so slightly upward, when Lorgar stops directly between them. They had already given him a soft lilt of acknowledgement, expecting him to simply pass by. When he speaks he still looks forward, hands gripping eachother tight.

"Do not disturb me unless it is of the utmost urgency."

His tone, the way the words slip between his teeth like a hiss, leaves no room for argument; Not as if they were going to in the first place. They nod in understanding and Lorgar passes by fully, the fabrics of his robes shifting against each other.

You live in this wing now, and Lorgar secretly delights in the feeling of knowing you will always be waiting for him here.

He doesn't have to search for you, to call you like a common servant; You are now treated with the luxuries he thinks you deserve.

He swears his heart picks up pace the closer he gets. It has been so unbearably long since he's seen your face, heard your voice, felt your skin. Even the feeling of simply holding your tiny hand in his feels like an indulgence after so long apart.

His palm brushes against the handle to the door leading into his bed chambers. You're more than likely here, making use of the massive bookshelves that store his personal favorite texts.

And indeed you are; As when he opens the massive door made to fit a man of his size, you're spotted sitting on the similarly massive bed flipping through the pages of an old tome. The way you perk up and gasp in pure surprise has the Primarch preening.

"Lorgar!"

You treat the tome with a level of care, closing it and sitting it aside- but you do so with a rush as you quickly get to your feet and run right to him. He easily picks you up in his hands, raising you up to his level. Your lips are against his in moments, arms around his neck. There's so many emotions in it; Happiness, desperation, longing. Only when you pull away does the Primarch sit you down, before then kneeling down to your level instead. It's easier for him to do so instead of dangling you in the air. In spite of how one might think someone such as him should never kneel. He has never bemoaned his size, at least out loud, but perhaps at times he can realize its, inconvenience.

"It's been so long this time, you're back!"

He delights in the feeling of your warm skin against his, free of his armor for the time being.

"It has. I hope you'll forgive my absence."

He always placates you, even though he has no reason to. You know why he's gone, the things he says he needs to do. It's simply selfishness that keeps you wanting. Not that he doesn't think similarly, stuck in the ebb and flow of a crusade that intends to take all of him. He wants more than just conquest, no matter how much everyone says that should be enough.

"I just miss you. It's always so lonely without you here."

Lorgar wonders if everyone thinks of their lover so much, or if he is simply a minority. He wonders if he you think of him as much as he does you.

Kor Phaeron has acquiesced on the matter mostly, either way. There are times where he attempts to 'right' Lorgar, but they are largely unproductive. If anything, it seems to send him into your arms faster. It'll pass, is what conversations on the matter usually end with. That Lorgar is nearly tasting a fit of indulgence.

Your hands on his collarbone, you look at the wear on his face and gently smile.

"You should rest, Lorgar."

He leans, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

"Then I would have wasted time I could spend in your company asleep." He hears your soft laugh, leaning away from him and smiling.

"It's still technically spending time together."

Only you can get away with talking back to him in such a way, as you say it with only fondness and a bit of teasing.

"Yes, but I wish to enjoy it," He continues. "I ordered my men to not disturb me unless it was urgent, and I intend to take advantage of that time without a million voices in my ear."

His hands rest on your waist, hands swallowing your form and bunching the fabric of your clothes. Even him, one of the smaller of the Primarchs, is so overwhelmingly massive. They lay with a gentle weight, at the moment. Yours lay on his collarbone, fingertips just past the edge of his robes and brushing against his tanned skin.

"And what is Lorgar Aurelian going to do with his rare moment of peace?"

You think someone might be walking past the door that you can't hear, as Lorgar briefly turns his head ever so slightly at a potential sound you can't hear. His hands tighten on your waist slightly. When this presumed person doesn't knock on the door like he might've thought, he turns back to you, hands loose again.

"I quite intend to find out."

[roroco316]

The Annunciation

WARNING: VERY HEREICAL

Yes, the reader is pregnant.

[yestheantichrist]

Hilarious. None of us can resist the concept of a Tall Strong Godspouse, it seems

[wxnheart]

What is cuddling with the primarchs like. (And no just writing morty off with a stank joke plz)

Horus - Very affectionate, complete with quips and kisses. Loves to hold you in the crook of his arm. His tits are wonderful pillows.

Leman Russ - Leman is quite the cuddler, especially because he really likes skin-to-skin contact when you two cuddle. More than likely, you'll both be naked. To your surprise, horizontal loving doesn't happen as often as you thought it would.

Ferrus Manus - A bit stilted but he's got the spirit. His arms are of great interest to you so it's not out of the ordinary to marvel at them.

Fulgrim - Cuddling with Fulgrim has an 85% chance of leading to... other things so yeah. Cuddling also includes a very elaborate primping session.

Vulkan - About as vanilla and saccharine as it gets. Doesn't usually last long because the giant teddy bear is a walking furnace.

Rogal Dorn - Also a bit stilted with him, too. If anything, you'll be tucked under him and engaging in conversation over his latest project. His voice, though he doesn't believe it, is quite sonorous and lulls you into a peaceful doze.

Roboute Guilliman - You're the one sitting in his lap while he's busy doing paperwork or the like. You like to tease him and he'll chuckle and tell you to behave; this is said rather suggestively, too. 👀

Magnus - Funnily enough, you're cuddling and playing with his hair while nestled comfortably in one arm while he's busy reading a book or perhaps the latest treatise his brother Lorgar wrote.

Sanguinius - Just as saccharine as Vulkan's, complete with you being enveloped in his wings just as much are you are in his arms. Touching his feathers will make him rouse his wings, though.

Lion El'Jonson - LMAO.

Perturabo - You're begrudgingly (read: happily) nestled against him and he begrudgingly (read: ABSOLUTELY) accepts it.

Mortarion - The clingy koala of the group, even with the scowl on his face. If he had his way, he'd never let go. Don't you dare tell his brothers or sons, though.

Lorgar - The one who cocoons himself around you. He absolutely, positively adores your cuddle sessions. It's a wonderful retreat away from his obligations and foster father.

Jaghatai Khan - You're holding on to him for dear life while he goes fast so there goes your cuddle session. He's really the one who has no objections to cuddling but he doesn't actively seek them out, either.

Konrad Curze - Does looming over you smirking like a deranged gremlin count as cuddling? If so, then... nice!

Angron - One of the many reasons he has to hate the Nails. Wants your touch. Yearns for it, actually, and if he didn't have them, he'd have Mortarion beat as the clingiest koala to ever cling. Instead, he has to contend with thought and you have to contend with the crazed way he looks at you. Cheers, darling.

Corvus Corax - Cuddling him is like being enveloped by the comfortable darkness. Whenever you're surrounded by it, you're secure in his arms.

Alpharius - You cuddle one, you cuddle them all. Cuddle pile!

[ms--lobotomy]

“How many geese do you think I can take on in a fight?”

oh. oh anon. i love this prompt. i owe you my life. happy sanguinala :)

LION EL'JONSON- Stares at you. Is thinking about how many geese he can take on himself.

???- The geese got them.

FULGRIM- This is not a question that Fulgrim is prepared for. He dances around the question and never gives you a direct answer. Asshole.

PERTURABO- Depends on what mood he's in. If he's in a petulant one, he'll just grunt and get back to work. If not, he'll give you a normal-ish answer.

JAGHATAI KHAN- One of the Primarchs with greater faith in your ability to take on geese in a fight. Gives you a logical answer based on your fighting prowess and stamina.

LEMAN RUSS- Leman takes this question very seriously. Out loud, he measures up your combat abilities against smaller opponents. He's blatantly wrong.

ROGAL DORN- "I will not allow you to take on any geese in a fight. Do you have any idea how dangerous they are?"... He lectures you on why fighting geese is a bad idea.

KONRAD CURZE- "Four," he says before you ask the question. He flashes you a shit-eating grin, as he knew how much you wanted to ask the question.

SANGUINIUS- This one hits a little too close to home for him. "Can we... can we pick a different animal, please?"

FERRUS MANUS- "The flesh is strong." Pushes you to fight these geese with your bare hands. Has faith in you.

???- Is a goose. Honks at you.

ANGRON- He will not leave you any geese, even in this hypothetical scenario. He wishes to engage them in glorious melee combat himself.

ROBOUTE GUILLIMAN- Thinks about it for a second and lets out a chuckle. Not as bad of a lecturer as Dorn, but will ask you if you are prepared to fight so many geese.

MORTARION- Has no faith in you. Massive pessimist about the whole deal. Advises you to not even engage one goose.

MAGNUS THE RED- "Depends on the environment," he says before getting back to his studies. You are left to contend with what environment you want to fight geese in.

HORUS LUPERCAL- Throws his head back in laughter, putting a hand on your shoulder. He gives you a throwaway answer.

LORGAR- Asks you what you're thinking. Strongly advises you not to fight ANY geese, but ends up giving you a plausible answer.

VULKAN- Asks you if you're serious about fighting geese. Asks you if you need any armor and/or weapons. Is prepared to back you up in this fight.

CORVUS CORAX- Stops what he's doing to think about the answer. Gives you an honest estimate, if a little pessimistic.

ALPHARIUS- Fighting the Alpha Legion is a lot like fighting a bunch of geese. I refuse to elaborate.

[lxvvie]

Being in a relationship with Sanguinius would consist of:

Sanguinius having visions and dreaming about you before you two even met.

And once you and Sanguinius met, he kept his distance for your safety and... his sanity. But still, he pined for you.

Your relationship being something of a slow burn until he embraces his inner 'fuck it' and it turns into a full-fledged relationship. Did you know the depths of his feelings for you?

Privacy, Privacy, Privacy. Few know he's a taken man. The first person he told was Horus. Sanguinius is actually very protective of you and your relationship with him.

And speaking of protectiveness, have you noticed how... vigilant the Blood Angels are around you?

You being interested in his wings and despite feeling uncomfortable when they're touched, he'll let you caress them. Not for long, though.

Sitting in his lap more often than not.

Sanguinius being surprisingly... candid with you when it comes to certain aspects of being a Primarch. He might allude to other things but won't really elaborate and should you ask him, he'll merely shake his head, give you a delicate smile, and assure you that it's nothing.

Being your ever-present protector. Whenever he can. And I do mean ever-present.

Sometimes surprising you by swooping down and scooping you up into his arms. A variant of that is dropping down and enveloping you in both his arms and wings.

Forehead kisses. If there's one thing Sanguinius is consistent with regarding you, it's forehead kisses.

Being one of the Primarchs' significant other who doesn't even get a planet's distance to the Emperor. Because you're a secret. When I say you're Sanguinius' hidden gem, you're Sanguinius' hidden gem. You know about the Emperor but he doesn't know about what you and his beloved son have (...or does he?).

[thevoidscreams]

For Mating March: what would you think each Primarch specific kink would be?

Gonna stick to one or two kinks each for this also I'm going based on vibes:

Lion: He will often take you where ever you are at the time, even if it's a risky place to do it.He doesn't get off on the idea of potentially being caught. He gets off on getting away with it. Fulgrim: He enjoys painting you and making an absolute mess out of the paint he put on you, by fucking you and then making a print by pressing you to a canvas. He has a collection of these.

Perturabo: He enjoys bondage but with really complicated devices. He also gets off on being praised and feeling valued, during the deed. Jaghatai Khan: What's to do you on his bike while riding. Also he doesn't pull out. You're getting the cream pie.

Leman Russ: Predator/Prey dynamics, he's giving you a ten minute head start to book it into the woods. Better make those ten minutes count cause when he catches you, you're gonna want to be far enough away that no one can hear what he's doing to you. (Unless you're into that)

Rogal Dorn: No guy who makes a full body pain glove is normal okay. He wants you to do your best to make him come while he tries to hold off as long as possible. Also maybe a bit of pain play. Konrad Curze: Blood play, knife play, also predator/prey dynamics but it'd gonna be a lot more dangerous for you when he finds you. He will however give you aftercare if he's in the right mindset.

Sanguinius: Body worship, it goes both ways, also praising. He may get a bit bitey sometimes also. Ferrus Manus: Pretty standard rough sex, a bit of breeding, sensory play involving temperature. Angron: You gotta restrain him, it's not even a kink at this point it's for your safety.

Roboute Guilliman: Breeding, also if you bring him things while he's working to give him little breaks and lots of love that gets him going. He just needs your love and support. That's the biggest turn on for him.

Mortarion: I feel like he enjoys a challenge, and if you tease him throughout the day he's not gonna show it but he's gonna be rock hard till he gets you in bed later. And then you'll get to see his famed endurance first hand.

Magnus: He enjoys having his ego stroked, and when you show off a bit of book smarts. Also rub him down with some body oil. Horus: He is a power top who gets off on being called Warmaster or Master in bed. He's also not opposed to taming you and making you submit to him.

Lorgar: You are his kink. If he's pursuing you then it doesn't matter what else is going on in bed. As long as it involves you. And maybe some genuine sentiments of love.

Vulkan: MATING in all caps. He's also gonna pound you on his anvil the same way he does a new weapon.

Corvus corax: He wants to find you, hide and seek style. Another one where you'd better hope you hid in a place far enough from other people. Also risky business in public, like making you sit on his knee while he rubs you off under the table.

Alpharius: He and Omegon like to share you. Both at the same time. Sex is never a private affair for those two.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

His Moon

Summary: Horus learns that Lorgar has a daughter. The thought of his own child takes over his mind.

Horus/fem!OC, Emperor and Lorgar's daughter (OC, platonic), Lorgar/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, kidnapping

Word count: 1002

Song: The Cure - Lullaby

This fic was born because of this beautiful post.

The Warmaster looks at one of the many contracts and freezes, unable to sign. Memories of brighter days on Terra capture Horus. The primarch simply cannot, cannot sit behind the documents. The title of Warmaster weighs heavily on his shoulders. The responsibility of continuing the Crusade as a leader weighs heavily. He wants simple human affection.

Horus loved his sons. Everyone was dear to him, especially the members of Mournival. Yet they were war machines. Perhaps much better than ordinary people, but the primarch was connected to them only by gene-seed. Pure science and controlled selection.

It was not the same as the childhood of the primarch himself. When his Father taught him astronomy, the art of war and told him stories of the past. It’s an unforgettable feeling to look at the man in front of you and listen to his every word. While you yourself are still a boy who has not seen the world and has not known its taste.

Neither brother could understand Horus. Couldn't take the place of the Emperor's favorite son. Because that's how it was. The Warmaster was found before anyone else - and therefore Terra is not just a home by name. No matter how hard some of them, especially Lorgar, tried to earn the Emperor's love. All their attempts were doomed to failure.

Even worse, the primarch of the Word Bearers had caused real anger with his behavior. Horus thought that everything would end with the burning of the Monarchy. Until he was told interesting news. Lorgar had a wife. One of the civilians of Colchis, with whom he... fell in love. And he took her to himself. But that was not all.

She was pregnant with the primarch's child.

Something clicked in the Warmaster’s head and he decided to visit the Imperial Palace. Discuss new trade routes, diplomatic meetings, military tactics. Horus did not want to show his excitement. But he so wanted to see a new life. From his primarch blood.

***

“Her name is Erda.” - The Emperor cooed over the cradle with a toy in his hands. A sight unusual even for Horus. - “Unlike all of you, she grows much slower. Even than an ordinary person. But this has its own joy. She will stay this small longer. Isn’t she a beauty, my son?”

It is difficult to discourage a primarch. But little Erda did it. Unfortunately for Lorgar, his daughter will remain on Terra with the Emperor forever. Daughter. Horus says the word again in his mind, tasting it. It sounded like family; love is hidden behind this word.

She is very small, half asleep, but still carefully watches the wooden horse that her current father carved. The girl was bathed in love from birth. And although she was surrounded by the gold of Terra, her lullaby, soft blankets and toys emitted a moderate light. Gentle. Almost lunar.

The girl reaches out and grabs the horse. Smart eyes wait expectantly for some action. Until the Emperor, with a smile that even Horus has not seen, begins to squeeze her. Erda bursts into laughter - the most beautiful melody the Warmaster has ever heard.

"Yes. She's a beauty."

 And Horus can't help but want to take her. But she is still not his child.

***

There is a stir in the chambers and Horus looks up. A smile spreads across his face by itself. The serf girl cleaned his armor with zeal, wanting to scrub away the hardened dirt. The primarch liked best when it was she who looked after his armor and cleaned his room.

At first, the primarch thought that the reason was that she was the best at performing her simple duties. But no, other serfs did a better job. The man had to admit that he simply enjoyed her company. She was nice. A pretty and kind girl - her quiet presence was calming.

Everyone had to look at him with adoration. The Warmaster deserved it. And the serf was no exception, but her devotion was more tender. As if she was always nearby, as if it should be so. If Horus had any tempting thoughts, he suppressed them.

But now... they came out again, taking over his mind. Lorgar was not afraid to admit that he had fallen in love. He lost his wife only because he was terrible at his duties. His pathetic brother incurred the wrath of the Emperor only because he could not renounce the senseless traditions of Colchis.

But Horus was the favorite son. Horus was the best among his brothers, a magnificent warrior and politician. Everyone loved him and everyone wanted to please him. It was not for nothing that his Father gave him the title of Warmaster. The primarch worked as hard as he could, couldn't he take some nice little liberties?

The girl stops and looks sharply at the primarch. Apparently she felt someone else's gaze. Horus can't help but stare at the way her cheeks grow warm and her hands clutch the rag to her chest. So fragile and tender compared to him. She needs only the best care. Especially when her belly will be filled with new life.

"My Lord?"

Even though she is a serf, Horus wants to do everything right. The girl was already amazed by the primarch’s aura. There was no point in putting pressure on her or forcing her to do anything. A man could be a Warmaster not only on the battlefield, but also in romance.

And he really wanted to win such a little heart. Besides, then Horus will have a story for their child about how he met his mother. Omitting details about the imbalance of power.

“Have you ever thought about becoming a mother?”

The last word permeates the entire essence of Horus and he can barely restrain his carnivorous smile. Soon, very soon, his Luna Wolves will be holding a little brother or sister in their arms. It just needs to wait.

And then a lullaby will also appear in his chambers.

[slaaneshisass]

I wonder what weird / incredible dangerous parenting thing the emperor did to get him banned from babysitting like what would be his "oh I just put the baby down for a nap face down in a crib with blankets and pillows" or "what do you mean I can't give him wisky to help the baby while they're teething" the guy was born in the stone age they probably had some wild child care rules

[angronsjewelbeetle]

Fuck it I'm posting what I got so far before I really do conk out

First kisses with the Primarchs ~♡ Pt 3

Includes: Magnus, Alpharius/Omegon, Guilliman

Alpharius/Omegon: You’re settled between them, reading, with who you’re fairly sure is Omegon reading over your shoulder, and Alpharius seemingly half asleep with his head resting on yours. Omegon paws at your book when you go to turn the page - muttering about how he wasn’t done reading. “It’s nice that you can tell us apart,” Alpharius says suddenly, “yeah?” you hum as Omegon releases the page, “I agree,” he says, “even if you do mess up sometimes,” you snort at him and he smirks, leaning right into your personal space. “For example,” he mutters, your only warning being a quick glance at  your lips before his are on them, light stubble scratchy against your skin. “Wh- hey!” Alpharius says, amused and petulant as his hand comes into view to shove Omegon off you. He turns your face to his with a gentle hand, Omegon scoffs behind you and lifts the book off your lap as Alpharius kisses you, smooth and a little clumsy, his nose bumping yours as he barely remembers to turn his head, he tastes like sweet coffee. You blink as he pulls away looking rather smug. “You thought he was Alpharius,” Omegon says knowingly. 

Magnus: “By all accounts it doesn’t make sense!” Magnus exclaims, jolting you out of your drowsy state as he sits up with his hands curled, he looks at you and sighs, settling back down, “and to make matters worse, my darling star isn’t even listening to me!” he says dramatically, flopping backward against the pillows with the back of his hand against his forehead, bright hair shifting ethereally. You watch as some of his curls reach out towards you like creeping plant’s tendrils and reach up to let them tangle around your fingers idly as you sigh; he’s pouting, bottom lip pushed out petulantly like a child. “I am listening, Magnus,” you say, he huffs, peering at you through his barely-open eye, still posing. “If I kiss you,” you say quickly before he can open his mouth again, “will you finally let me sleep?” you ask, lowering your hand as his hair relinquishes its delicate grip on your fingers. He’s silent for a moment and you yawn, he rolls onto his side to look at you properly, eye alight with swirling emerald green and gold, “that may be your best bet,” he says finally, lifting up the covers so you can wriggle in close enough to bump your nose against his. You close your eyes and kiss him as he tucks the covers around you, he smells like spices and musk and something that tingles your nose and sends shivers up your spine.

Guilliman: Roboute is face down against his desk when you enter, you clear your throat, he jolts upright, eyes wide and a paper sticking to his chin, he stares at you, unseeing. “Hi,” you say softly, giving him a little wave. He shakes his head, paper fluttering to the floor, “uh,” he says intelligently, and then “good morning, darling,”, which is a little odd, seeing as the sun is beginning to duck behind the horizon and bathing the room in vibrant orange light. You say as much and he whips his head around to stare at the setting sun. His shoulders drop as he turns back to you with an exhausted sigh, planting his head in his hands, “I don’t think I want to know how many meals I’ve missed,” he mutters as you pat his thigh comfortingly. He looks at you and leans back, offering his arm as a solid climbing piece for you to clamber into his lap. “Poor thing,” you say sympathetically, cupping his cheeks, stubble rough and spiky under your palms. He chuckles and tilts his chin up, pressing a kiss to your lips with a loving smile. His stubble scratches your chin and he sighs into your mouth - right as his stomach lets out a loud rumble. 

[whorety-k]

a song that I really like is bedroom hymns by florence + the machine, which I think would work quite well with lorgar. And even if you don’t write anything with it do listen to her songs cause they’re all utter bangers. I highly recommend them

I'm a simp for Florence + The Machine lovey, don't you worry. I have sang Sky Full Of Song outside in the middle of a storm as the gods intended.

you are SO right about bedroom hymns being perfect for Lorgar, so please let me indulge us all with this one

I hope you intended for this drabble to be NSFW because a song about sex guised as a religious metaphor has me thinking about religious sex. Please enjoy my shaky understanding of structured religion and my attempt at cramming as much blasphemous/religious language as possible.

(my own religion is not very structured so this was actually a fun learning experience)

Pairing: Lorgar Aurelian x wife!Reader

Song Inspiration: Bedroom Hymns - Florence + The Machine [Youtube] [Spotify]

“Sweating out confessions / The undone and the divine / ‘Cause this is his body / This is his love / Such selfish prayers / and I can’t get enough.”

Warnings: NSFW 18+ content, heavy religious tones and language, body worship

Word Count: 462

A feather-light kiss pressed to the inside of your calf causes you to give a full body shudder, and you feel your husband’s broad chest rumble with sweet laughter. 

“So sensitive,” Lorgar whispers, breathless. His amethyst eyes trail over the love bites he’s left between your thighs, full of veneration. Devoted fingertips examine the newest scripture: a crimson bloom situated within the curve of your hip. The way he spreads your pages wide and reveres your texts has you squirming and pleading his name like a mantra. 

A delicate finger runs through your folds, gathering your dripping essence before sinking in sinfully slow. A low moan bubbles in your chest, relieved at finally receiving stimulation after the teasing worship Lorgar has been lavishing your body with.

Lorgar lifts himself from between your legs to hover over you. A free hand tips your chin towards him, smiling when your eyes find his. He kisses away your sacrificial tears as his thumb begins to rub circles in your puffy clit, playing your body the way he knows drives you towards rapture.

Leaving you dripping with tender touches is promise.

Stretching you open on his fingers is liturgy.

Sinking his aching cock into your heat is sacrament. 

Lorgar moans reverence as your cunt parts around him, sucking him in.  “You’re perfect,” he breathes, relishing in the warmth of your smaller body. He aches to press his lips to yours as he worships at your altar, to confess his impure thoughts directly into the ears of his deity, but the size difference is too great. Instead, he finds absolution in the way your hips rock back to meet his languid thrusts, finds grace in each hitched breath or ragged whine. “So good,” Lorgar sighs, “so good…”

The keen that leaves your lips as you reach your peak drives him into religious ecstasy, rutting desperately into you when you clamp down around him. Ragged moans fill your ears, your husband’s thrusts becoming erratic before his hips give a final buck firmly into you– his final offering. Warmth pools within your belly as Lorgar’s cock throbs deep inside. The fluttering of your walls is a blessing as you milk him for all he’s worth, a close to your most sacred of rituals.

Lorgar shifts back to remove himself from you, and you beam up at your husband with a smile, admiring him with heavy eyelids. You’re quick to beckon him back down to cuddle with open arms. The sight causes Lorgar’s heart to swell, and he finds himself completely lost in you once again. His tiny little wife. His world. His stars. A goddess so willing to cleanse his soul and forgive his sins.

How can he be so condemning of himself when you invite him into your hallowed space like that?

[moodymisty]

𝕲𝖔𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖘; 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Part 1 of ?

Author's note: Part 1! Realistically it'll probably be 3 parts, but it might be 4 depending on how my writing goes. This is all just boring plot, sorry i have to excuse my smut with gratuitous plot buildup.

Summary: During the Razing of Monarchia, The Emperor decides to take something of Lorgar's that will persuade him back to compliance; Though he doesn't leave the goddess of Colchis unmarked.

Relationships: Lorgar/Fem!Reader, nonconsensual/onesided Emperor/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Noncon/dubcon, Mind fuckery, Kidnapping, Abuse,

Monarchia burns.

Smoke billows into massive clouds that cover the skyline like a catastrophic storm, the sun being obscured. The battlefield is darkened over like it's about to rain, but the fighting is all but over.

Guilliman speaks to one of his captains, coordinating the conclusion and retrieval of all of his men when his eyes pull away from the Ultramarine.

The Emperor approaches. His golden armor shines opulently even in the darkness of the smoke choked sky.

He is flanked by two custodes, of which sport the ornate golden armor denoting the meticulousness of their creation.

The Emperor had only recently arrived, the battle having long since been concluded and Malcador having already spoken to Lorgar in length. Upon a degradation of those talks did the Emperor make an appearance, and Guilliman wonders if those talks bore any fruit. He didn't see the point in them, now that Monarchia was in flames.

Though hasn't seen Lorgar since, and Guilliman can only assume he more than likely never will. The blow that Guilliman has dealt to him with never be repaired. What little relationship they had is ash.

But what- who - The Emperor approaches with besides his custodes, is far more confusing.

One of those custodians holds by the arm a woman, you, barely able to keep on your feet. You seem tired, barely able to stand. It's like he's dragging you along. You only manage to right yourself once the Emperor and his retinue stop walking, and you let out a cough; Ragged and tired. He sees ash staining your skin on your hands and cheeks.

You look up towards him briefly for a moment, eyes red, and he looks back while glancing over your form.

The ornate clothing, the delicate jewelry...

Guilliman had heard through the others that Lorgar had taken a lover. But he had heard little more of it than that; He didn't need to. Guilliman kept his interactions with Lorgar brief, and strictly business. He had no desire to listen to Lorgar's ramblings- unlike Sanguinius, who found it all amusing.

You know he calls her his little goddess, right? The two seem like they're made for each other. Perhaps we should meet her one day, she seems interesting.

Your clothes are singed at the edges, the ornate trimming and delicate fabric seared and destroyed from walking through the hot ash and embers of your home.

Perhaps Guilliman shouldn't care. He knows the Emperor doesn't. But he feels something in him at that moment, though he simply buries it down.

They are doing as the Emperor orders, and they know this needed to be done. Lorgar needed to be taught a lesson, and his legion was simply the tool to do so.

"I see you are already beginning to depart."

The Emperor takes only a brief glances to the area filled with landed Ultramarine ships, before looking back.

"Yes. We will be gone within next few hours." Guilliman looks down at you again for a moment, and notices how you seem almost, absent.

"What do you plan to do with her?"

Guilliman says, trying to word it in a way that shows mere curiosity rather than suspicious prying. The implication that he already knows who you are obvious.

The Emperor looks towards the custode holding your arm, and a few moments later that custode begins to take you away. You get towed towards the ship that The Emperor had arrived in, and disappear into it as they continue speaking.

Guilliman's eyes follow for awhile, his men's as well, but they all leave return to the Emperor when he speaks again.

"When a child misbehaves, you take away their toys until they learn."

Emperor looks directly at Guilliman.

"When Lorgar rights himself and his legion, I will return her to him."

He wonders what words had been exchanged; Lorgar would never give you up willingly from the what he has heard, you more than likely had to be torn from his arms. It would explain the torn clothes, the tears in your eyes.

Guilliman isn't much of a fan of the idea. But Lorgar needs to be taught a lesson, to stop this nonsense of religion and worship, and Guilliman won't resist the Emperor's plans.

He takes one more glance at the massive golden custodes ship that is warming up it's engines, preparing to leave the wreckage of Colchis behind. Guilliman clears his throat.

"Very well."

The Emperor gives nary a farewell, and turns on his right boot to walk towards where his custodes had trod previously. Guilliman and his Ultramarines stay however, his men chattering in the distance to continue their extraction. They have men and machinery to count for.

"You seem unsure of something, my Lord."

Thiel approaches his commander with his bolter slung comfortably in his arms. Guilliman looks to him briefly.

Was he unsure? He has doubted the Emperor before, but those brief thoughts were kept firmly to himself. The Emperor has knowledge even he does not he's sure, questioning him isn't his place to tread.

"Not unsure, Sargent. Just thinking." Thiel hums and adjusts his grip on his weaponry.

"Is it about that woman? Who was she?" The marine probably wonders what baseline human is worth enough to be toted by custodes, Guilliman imagines. He won't disagree that it was an odd scene.

"That was Lorgar's wife."

Thiel doesn't hide the furrowed brow of confusion on his face. Not many had even considered the possibility of any of the primarchs marrying, even far less knew one actually had.

Lorgar had defied odds it seems, though it only seemed to cripple him in the end.

"The Emperor has taken her to Terra until Lorgar corrects his legion's path, it seems." Thiel looks towards the custodes fleet as it rises up into the sky and departs, leaving the Ultramarines alone on this hot, sandy planet.

"And do you think that's a good idea?" Guilliman ponders the man's question for a bit longer than he thought he would.

Would it actually motivate Lorgar to abandon all of this nonsense? To return to the Crusade rather than fooling around with the worship of gods and deities? Guilliman doesn't quite know. He doesn't know Lorgar well enough to have the answer.

"I guess we will see."

Guilliman swears he hears screaming in the distance, but chocks it up to the whipping of the wind against crumbling stone and turns to leave.

[heabitfruity]

Warning: Mild NSFW (Though Silly)

A silly horny thought, based off an idea from someone's tumblr but I cannot fucking find it so when I find that particular post I will credit them: Note: @moodymisty was the inspiration! (thank you anon and moodymisty) "Praise the Emperor, hallowed be his name-" You grabbed the Primarch's hands; attempting to pry them apart from his bizarre prayer. "Darling, Lorgar, please just fuck me normally." The request sounded absolutely reasonable to you, to have your partner lodged between your thighs was optimal. It was positively divine to be beneath him, that is true, but this was surely unnecessary. "Silence, my love, I must finish." Lorgar then paused, opening one eye to give you a scolding glance. "Thy Imperium come, Thy will be done on Terra..."

[corvusspecialartist]

Primarch Ranking for a Hair Day (final part)

Alright, so this is where we are at the final two tiers.... Better and Best, we are completely out of the neutrals here.

Better Tier

Loragr Aurelian

Ok, this preacher's boy gets a bad rap, but honestly.. if you want somebody to just do your hair for you while worshiping the ground you walk on...

2. Sanginius

Do y'all like angels? Well this guy is right for you... In fact he is the most beloved by everybody in the IMperium. And on top of that... he got wings...so he can dry out your hair while participating in bathing culture. He is is just charming and just kinda beauitful.

3. Leman Russ

Are you a fan of frat types and or Vikings? Then this wolfy guy is for you! Honestly, He would be rather jovial and try to help you with every part of the hair, despite the population not really testing for it. He even tries to reserve the best types of warm spots/meats. (Plus... you get to be near his giant ass wolves.. like that is AWESOME)

BEST:

Fulgrim

Honestly, he is the most aesthetically beautiful. He is legit trying to reach perfection in the way and action and body. And I would think that he would honestly style your hair in the perfect style and give you the best and the must luxurious products. (More boujee than what the other primarchs give you)

AND on top of that, he would be a gossip king supreme. In fact he spreads all the dirt (that he knows of) on his brothers.

2. Vulkan

Ok, he is an artisan first in craft. He can make beautiful armor and weapons. Plus he's tall, very dark, and handsome and I think that he has very very warm hands, and is willing to spend the time with you and just carefully put his hands through your curly hair.

3. Magnus the Red

Although the offical art says otherwise, I think he has red curly/frizzy hair. He was born in space Egypt, and there, they EXCEL at having the most complex hair styles. Although they are space wizards, and probably can change their appearance...I do think he would try and use hair to try and bond with his kids.

Also, he would try and do study late night hair days.

4. Alpharuis and Omegon

Who knows? I would like to think that they would try out multiple disguise and run by scenarios with you (that are in the range of classified, but you aren't going to tell anyone). They are the smaller than their kin though. Honestly, they are a wild card.

[wxnheart]

Which Primarch has the best hair to pull while riding their face being intimate?

It'd be easy to say Sanguinius, Magnus, and Fulgrim but one is actually tender-headed, and the other two... it's a hit or miss. Depending. 👀

Surprisingly? Roboute and Dorn because they're closet freak heauxs and love it when you tug at their cropped tresses. Because the pain is a wonderful opportunity to vent their frustrations and their tongues are working, honey.

Horus when he had hair. Now he'd just tease the shit out of you and lift you up mid-lick because he's an ass like that.

Leman most definitely. He chuckles against your skin. Lion, I think, wouldn't even be fazed so he's feasting away like the fuckin' beast he is. By the Emperor...

Avoid at all costs: Angron, Konrad, Perturabo, and Corvus. Especially Angron. And Perturabo.

You won't even come close to the Khan's.

If Lorgar and Vulkan had hair, whew.