#Perturabo/Reader

[mothiir]

a great kindness done

this is a sequel to the fic words rarely spoken but you don’t need to have read that to understand this. the only background is that the POV character is a serf who said one nice thing around peturabo, who responded — calmly and rationally — by dragging her off and jerking off onto her face. @moodymisty hope this is okay I wrote it in one go and couldn’t be bothered to proof read it so it’s not my finest work 😅

cw: power imbalance, dubcon in that no one reallyyyy gets the chance to say no.

—

—

It was not the Men of Iron who felled the corrupt government that held dominion over your planet, but the yellow-clad Imperial Fists, led by their father Dorn — and yet it was the Iron Warriors who rebuilt afterwards, smelted ore from the. cavernous depths of the planet, built barracks and cities and factories, and it is the reconstruction that matters more. Anyone can siege — it takes real talent to build —

“No,” Perturabo says, tearing your dress open with one flick of his wrists, your breasts spilling free. He kicks the door to his quarters closed, hard enough to dent the durasteel. “No, it’s — hard to siege —“

“Of course my lord,” you stammer, rewriting your internal script. “I’m so stupid, please forgive me —“

“Not stupid,” he growls. “Just human, foolish — “

He lifts you up with one hand, effortlessly strong, palm large enough to almost cover your entire arse as his fingers bite into the meat of your thighs. With his free hand, he fumbles at his armour; removing the entire suit would take time, and the assistance of the Iron Circle (he allows no serf near his armour), but he’s in a hurry, and so only bothers with his codpiece. It clatters to the floor with an uncharacteristic lack of care. You imagine the machine spirit within fuming at the ill-treatment.

“—sieging is hard, and rebuilding as well, and the people who hail the Fists are — are misguided, silly little children with shiny trinkets and —“

You don’t get any further into your mollifying speech; Peturabo’s tongue fills your mouth. He doesn’t kiss so much as attempt to lick your skill clean from the inside, his gauntleted hand biting bruises into your buttocks.

“You’re mine,” he says, pulling away. A strand of saliva stretches between his mouth and yours.

“Always,” you say, privately wondering what his reaction would have been had you done more than simply thank the Imperial Fist. For that is what set this whole affair off — all you did was smile, and thank the Astartes, because he had held a door for you. That was that. And here you are.

“Mine,” he growls, again, his voice slipping lower, into a register that sounds more chainsword than human. It frightens you on an instinctive, primal level — like standing before the merciless churning of a great furnace, and knowing that should you fall in, even your bones would be reduced to ash.

“Yours,” you echo. “All yours.”

It has been barely three weeks since the start of your — well, relationship is a strong word for what amounts to kidnap and a permanent assignment to Perturabo’s service. Rather: a permanent assignment to service Perturabo. The work is certainly easier than your previous role — cleaning, some mending, plenty of time on your back — but although the rations are better, you do wish that some of them were not routinely painted across your tits.

“Yes,” he says, and buries his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. His forehead crumples, as he huffs annoyance. “You smell wrong.”

“I’m — I’m sorry —“

You can’t help your gibbering apologies, even though you know it irks him when you show any outward sign of fear (“I’m not going to hurt you, you foolish little whore,” he once thundered, in a surprisingly unsuccessful attempt at comfort).

“No. Not your fault. Mine.”

He drops you onto his bed, standing before you, his cock level with your face. He strokes himself — once, twice — then shoves it towards your mouth. It bumps against your slack lips, and he grunts in frustration.

“Open. Now.”

You let your tongue loll out, slurping around his prick; he likes it when you’re messy and wet, drinking him down like he’s the only nourishment you’ll ever receive. For the first three days, you had thought this the case, until you realised that no, he’d just forgotten how often humans were meant to eat — he wasn’t planning to force you to subsist on a diet of Primarch ejaculate.

He rubs his length over your face, almost poking you in the eye a few times, deliberately working his pre-cum into your hair. He likes that as well: leaving you covered in the remnants of his pleasure, often refusing to allow you to wash it off afterwards. You keep your mouth open, like a mindless hole for him to grind against and spill inside.

“Not enough,” he mumbles, and catches your jaw with his index finger and thumb. “Need to be inside — this will hurt.”

You don’t have time to protest, or even ask what he means. He pulls smartly down, forcing your jaw open, and something clicks. Pain streaks up to your ears, and suddenly you can open wide enough to accommodate his cock. He moans satisfaction, and forces himself deeper into your throat, heedless of the scrape of your blunt, human teeth. Your body starts to panic at the lack of air; you want to pull away but you can’t; you want to breathe, but you can only manage strangled sips through your nose, and hurking gasps through a jaw that feels fucking dislocated —

And then it is over, and Perturabo pulls out, and the dark wings of terror beat a little softer. Drool drips from your abused mouth; your eyes stream. You want to ask him what the hell was that, what — and before you can think how to form the words he’s pushed in again, his fingers holding your mouth open, one hand cupping the back of your head to angle you to his liking. It takes him a few bruising thrusts to the roof of your mouth before he gets it quite right, and slides down your gullet in an implacable surge.

He continues like this for long enough that you lose track of time: your world reduced to the thick, sloppy sounds of him fucking your throat; the pain in your jaw; the slap of his balls up against your chin; the smell of him, like gunpowder and hot steel and something else, something completely inhuman. He takes you to the verge of blacking out — your vision blurring, your thoughts growing disjointed — and then permits you a hard swoop of a breath, before pushing back in. When he does eventually cum, it’s as you breathe in — you end up inhaling some of his cum, coughing and sputtering up the last little bit of your dignity, along with a wad of white gunk.

“My — my lord —“ you gasp, trying to form words: give me a moment to breathe, let me rest —

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” There’s an edge to his voice now — needling and hungry. “You’re all mine.”

He wrenches you up by the hair, catches your jaw and feels along the sides. You’re as delicate as a bird next to him, and just as fragile.

“Nothing broken. You’ll be fine.”

“Yes my lord. Thank you my lord.”

He grunts irritably, and you scramble to think what you could possibly have said — and then it occurs to you. Thank you my lord. Exactly the words you’d spoken to the Imperial Fist.

Before you can think of a better way to convey your appreciation, Perturabo has shoved your face back into his groin, this time forcing your lips against his balls.

“Suck,” he says, and you do: rolling crinkly skin against your tongue, taking the warm weight of them in your open mouth. Perturabo, a man of few words at the best of times, directs your mouth back to his cock by dragging at your hair.

The second time he cums it is all over your face. You get a brief reprieve as he wrangles off some of his armour, enough that he can clamber onto the bed without his limbs being held to stiff attention.

Then he flips you onto your hands and knees, slots his cock against your cunt — you feel him snigger at your panicked clench — then slides himself to his more accustomed place: fucking between your bruised, tender thighs.

“One day soon,” he pants, as he thrusts, “I’m going to fill that tight cunt up.”

“Yes — please —“ you reply, exhausted and sticky and barely able to string the words together. “But let me prepare — first —“

He leans over your back, hunching awkwardly so he can lick at your neck, his breath humid in your ear.

“Yes — will split you open — split you open and fuck you full and everyone knows that you are mine —“

He flips you back over before he cums, milking his release onto your chest. You feel his cum starting to dry in your hair, cling to your skin; you feel absolutely disgusting. And yet Perturabo looks at you with a bizarre mix of hunger and tenderness. Like you are just the most precious thing he has had the privilege to own.

By the fourth time, you think he’s starting to calm down. The rest of his armour discarded, the Iron Circle tidying as discretely as war machines can, and he has you stroke him off with your sticky, trembling hands.

“Open,” he says, and you let your jaw hang slack, the hinges still aching. His release spills all down your front as you make a lacklustre attempt to swallow what catches on your tongue.

You don’t think your throat will ever work properly again. Maybe he’s ruined it entirely, shaping it into nothing more than a cocksleeve for his use.

The tenderness is back in his eyes as he lifts something up to your face. Too fucked out and bleary to register what it is, it’s the camera flash that alerts you to the pict he’s just taken.

“Hey!”

“Shhh. This is just for me. Just to see how pretty you are. Just to remind me.”

He strokes your hair, heedless of the cum drying in it, and inhales deeply, grinning at how thoroughly you smell of him. No one will ever mistake you for anything other than his.

“And no more thanking Imperial Fists, yes ?”

“Yes my lord,” you say.

[moodymisty]

I am back to ask for more peterturabo fics. He is a petty boy who i love dearly. Do anything you want i love all your warhammer fics so much

Author's Note: You had me at Perturabo, friend. Here's some writing of turbocunt, hope you enjoy. It's sort of a rehash of a drabble I did not long ago. But I'm kinda amazed how weighed my requests are towards chaos. Y'all are some horny heretics.

Summary: You feel like a creature on display, surrounded by curious Primarchs eager to learn about Perturabo's littlest warrior.

Relationships: Perturabo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Perturabo's shitass attitude, General 40kness, Gossipy Primarchs because when you're emotionally stunted demigods stuck up in a palace or on a battleship someone getting laid is probably international fucking news

Word Count: 1255

"I see the littlest Iron Warrior has made a return to Terra; Was Olympia to your liking?"

The uniquely loud but gentle voice stops you dead in your tracks, and only after two distinct pairs of steps come thundering closer do you dare to turn.

It would take someone of extraordinary denseness or hermitic nature to not recognize the Angel Sanguinius as the source of one pair of footsteps, though his companion alludes you for a moment. He's almost as pristine as Sanguinius, but there's a particular aura around him that is distinctly different. When Sanguinius says his name to fully catch his attention, you remember.

Fulgrim, The Phoenician; Perturabo had spoken of him a sparse number of times, though most hadn't been the most positive. Then again, he rarely speaks of his fellow Primarchs in any other way than with sentences filled with disdain and pejoratives.

He looks right at you, through you, and you try not to completely melt under his gaze. You swallow a knot in your throat as you realize you haven't even said a single word, though you don't really get the chance to. You must have been the subject of a previous conversation, judging by the phrasing of his next sentence.

"She's not what I expected of him."

You dare to glance towards Fulgrim. Was that meant to be a snub? A compliment? Is he insulting Perturabo?

You had only meant to make it back to your chambers before it got dark, the chance of crossing not one but two Primarchs was an astronomically low one.

The Angel smiles, gentle and soft. Just like the pristine white feathers of his wings. He laughs, presumably at your apprehensive mien.

"Oh come now, we won't bite."

Sanguinus' smile is gentle, while Fulgrim scoffs. His smooth white hair slides down over his shoulder, covering a portion of the elegant purple cloth he's currently wearing.

"Says you," Fulgrim's expression is what you can only describe as cold, but not emotionless. He's controlled, elegant and pristine; Like a flower carved from ice. "I'm sure being around Perturabo hasn't helped matters. He isn't exactly the most amicable company."

You swallow that same pesky knot that stays in your throat again, and give a nervous smile.

"He has his moments."

Sanguinius' face lights up upon hearing your voice, perhaps a bit mischievous at the tidbit you'd spilled. Fulgrim is the one who speaks up, however- eyebrows raised.

"Oh really? Tell me; Does actually have a bone capable of a romantic emotion in his body, or does he just fiddle with machinery all hours of the day?"

You smile fades a bit, pursing your lips shut tight like you're attempting to lock them for a moment.

"I, don't think he would be pleased if i said anything more on the subject." Sanguinius wings shift.

"Then we won't keep you from him any longer." He looks to Fulgrim, and you dip your head as you move out of the way and they pass you by. You continue standing in the middle of the massive hall for what feels like forever, just staring at the gold filigree and ornate tapestries.

But once you manage to unstick your feet, you finally make it to Perturabo's private chambers. Iron Warriors pass you by, on guard duty while their Primarch stays in the palace. They grant you entry on his orders, but you can feel the energy coming from them isn't the most positive. But their gene-sire is Perturabo, afterall. You won't proclaim he has the most amicable personality.

When you enter the foremost room of the massive bedchamber, you see him slightly hunched over a worktable. You can't quite see what he's fixing from this angle, but it appears to possibly be something relatively small in comparison to him. He looks away from it to you, brow furrowed.

"What is with that expression of yours."

Brushing a chunk of hair behind your ear, you purse your lips. Tools are scattered across the table, stained with oil and scuffed from use. You still can't quite see what he's working on when you shift a bit to your left.

"I met Primarch Fulgrim and Primarch Sanguinius."

The change in his posture is immediate, and energy palpable. He doesn't ask where, so you assume he has a general idea that they crossed you on the way here. His brow is furrowed as he stares at you, thin lips tight.

"And what did they say, or did they merely try and pry as much information from you as they could get?"

Would it make him more upset to say they did one of those things, or both?

You purse your lips to one side, trying to find the right way to word it. Perturabo's eyes glance between you and his current project multiple times.

"They didn't say much of anything. Other than that I wasn't what they expected of you. I'm, not entirely sure what they meant by it." He makes a noise somewhere between a hum, and a displeased grunt.

You stand still for a moment after speaking, before coming closer to stand at his side. He moves his arm for you to come even closer, and silently assists with helping you into his lap. It's been something you've been doing more as of late; Perturabo is always working, and this is one way you can manage to steal a bit of his time. He doesn't mind it either. And if anything, he seems to enjoy when you watch him make things for you.

"I didn't tell them a thing. I didn't feel like it was something they should know." He continues working, but you know he's listening. You wring your hands and try to dislodge this feeling in your gut. Your feet dangle off his legs, feeling small in the shadow of his chest.

"I feel terrible because, they're Primarchs; But they aren't my Primarch."

Perturabo lets out a one note laugh.

"If their prides were so insulted that you managed to skirt around their questioning, then they can say so to me. I'm in need of the amusement."

You watch closer at his hands, and realize he's tinkering with something for you.

It's an automata, he calls it. Something that is powered by an unknown machinery inside. It just looks like a bunch of baubles and gears, to you. All you know is that each have a key that when you turn it, makes them move. You have many of them already, it seems this one is shaped like a small Iron Warrior.

Perhaps he just enjoys making the little things. Not much will ever be difficult to the Primarch, so maybe he just finds their simplicity and clumsy mimicry of whatever he's cast their silhouette in silly. They entertain you, at least.

Sitting it down onto the massive table, he closes it's back and winds it up, watching it stomp across the table in the pose of a proper Astartes march. When it slows to a stop, you lean forward to pick it up.

It's heavy, and while it looked small in Perturabo's hands, it's massive in yours; Around the size of your head. He watches you hold it from above, you can feel his gaze on you. You try not to smile as a bit of a mischievous thought crosses your mind.

"You should make one that looks like Sanguinius."

The Primarch lets out a surprisingly loud gauffaw. His left hand lands on your thigh.

"The next one, perhaps."

[solspina]

Rating primarchs based on how good of a boyfriend they would be

full send no context

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

Horus : 8/10

He’s a nice guy for the most part, very charismatic and though very goal focused he’s also kind and open to those he’s closest to. Outwardly, he’s very straightforward, stern, and absolutely ruthless to his enemies. There’s humanity within him though, and he won’t keep his friendly, loving demeanor away from those who deserve it. Find him at a celebratory event, drunk with Sanguinius, moments in which he’s full of nothing but laughter and love for his brothers and the one who stands beside him. His love language is quality time.

Leman Russ : 4/10 (negotiable)

Though he knows love, it seems to be quite strictly familial. He’s described often as ruthless and barbaric, naive and braggish. If you can put up with things like that, I’m sure he would be a fine boyfriend. Similarly enough though, he’s had many women try to court him all at once, and successfully. I can’t promise his loyalty if someone better looking comes along, as no one ever taught him the importance of that. Outside of the constant, lingering fear of replacement, he can have his caring and understanding moments, occasionally bringing you gifts from crusades and sieges on other planets. Maybe his loyalty to the emperor would apply to his lover too, if you tell him what it means to you. His love language is gift giving.

Ferrus Manus : 7/10

Rage is his fatal flaw if we’re being honest. Not towards you, but towards battle. Toward you I imagine he would be more straightforward and honest, though trustworthy and strong willed to make your relationship work. Loyalty will never ever ever be an issue with him, but it seems like he spends more time with war and battle than he does you. He spends time with you when he can, though, and he truly does care. Points off for his temper. He gave his brothers personalized gifts, and i’m sure he would go through many lengths to do the same for you. His love language is gift giving.

Fulgrim: 6/10

He’s constantly trying to be perfect, and he wants whoever he’s with to be perfect too. A lot of the time, it gets to his head. He can be incredibly ignorant quite often, and isn’t very considerate of your feelings. You’re more of an idol to him, a model. You’re human, so he sees you as perfect, something he and his people should strive to be like. Youre idealized, and under rose tinted lenses, this looks a lot like love… Lots of acts of service and gift giving.

Vulkan : 10/10

The only man you will ever need point blank period. He’s patient, he’s empathetic, he’s kind, he’s humane. He’s incredibly easy to love, and he truly is beloved. The Salamanders love you too, sometimes listening to your commands as if they were his. You’re respected as long as you’re under his arm. He wants to understand the way humans feel, especially understand the reason they wrap their arms around each other and sleep with their bodies entwined at night. His love language is physical touch.

Rogal Dorn : 6/10

He’s incredibly loyal, and also incredibly honest, but his seriousness can get in the way sometimes. You love him, very much, but there are times you get into petty arguments and he has to go consult Horus and Sanguinius for advice on what to do. He’s also very reserved at times, a lot like a single dad who’s just doing his best to keep his job and go about his day. Acts of service would be his love language.

Roboute Guilliman : 9/10

Guilliman is a great boyfriend, a great tactician, a great warrior, all of the above. The only reason i’d take a point off is because I believe he may be a little arrogant at times. He believes that his way is the right way, but he’s usually willing to listen to you and your concerns. He’s incredibly intelligent, very sympathetic and understanding of human trials and concerns, and he’s a lot like we are modern times. I think he would look for comfort in a significant other, and his love language is likely acts of service.

Magnus the Red : 3/10

Another man that I don’t recommend being with. He’s more arrogant than Fulgrim. When I said Guilliman believes his way is the right way, Magnus takes it a step up. He thinks he’s ALWAYS right. He cares, and he means well, but he’s way too much to put up with. Highly manipulative and self absorbed, don’t put yourself in that situation. He values knowledge more than he does you.

Sanguinius : 10/10

Besides the fact he’s a vampire, you’re probably the most safe with him. He genuinely cares for you and your well-being, and sleeping next to him at night with his wing draped over you is an absolute dream in a universe plagued by war. His sons may fall to their bloodthirst when they’re on the home ship, and Sanguinius is fast to wrap himself around his human partner and protect them from any and all harm. You hold him through his sorrow every time a mass of humans or his sons lose their lives, and you watch him kneel to offer you his loyalty and unconditional love rather than you offering it to him. He gives both physical touch and words of affirmation.

Lion El’Jonson : 7/10

Of course he has his moments where he can come off as aloof and paranoid, but that’s for the most part only on the battlefield. Outside, he’s incredibly charming and charismatic, but in a noble way. When his paranoia gets to him after an argument, he seeks out Sanguinius and Horus for advice, wanting nothing more to fix your relationship and solve whatever went wrong. He become more secretive as time goes on, but old habits die hard. I believe he’d offer acts of service.

Perturabo : 6/10

He’s incredibly smart, but finds relating to you and your human tendencies incredibly difficult. His moods can shift and change rapidly and violently, but I believe he means you no true harm. He would never hurt you intentionally, often opting to back away and give himself space, sometimes for days. He never returns to you without a mechanically engineered gift, though, one of his design. Alongside a very gentle hug and a conversation about how you care about him, what he loves. You love him, not for his usefulness to the emperor, but for him. His love language is definitely gift giving.

Mortarion : 8/10

He’s very confused as to why you would choose him. He’s disgusting, an abomination, he hated everything from psykers to his oppressors, what did anything matter if he would be left to the mercy of another oppressor anyways? All thoughts he had until he met you. He was cold and hateful to you at first, untrusting, and yet you showed him kindness. You showed him kindness over and over again. For once, it wasn’t just a one time thing. You’re the only thing in this universe who sees him as more than a warlord, more than the embodiment of death itself, so for you he has a soft spot. He hates the idea of having a human curl up next to him, absorbing his warmth and disease alike… and yet you do. You remind him that his touch is not deadly, and he too is capable of humanity. He will be more considerate of his decisions, because for once, something matters. His love language is physical touch, because he’s been deprived for so long, you’re the only one who allows him that piece of humanity.

Lorgar : 5/10

Does he love you? Does he not? No… He needs you… Maybe he just needs space actually.He loves you, he really does, and by god he tries his best, but when you’re as impulsive and indecisive as he is, it’s hard to know sometimes. If you’re okay with it working 50% of the time, maybe more maybe less, I’m sure you’ll be fine. His love language is… uh… well?

Jaghatai Khan : 7/10

Loyal, decently humble, and a relatively peaceful man. Outside of war, he has potential to be great to you. When war is his focus, however. Expect no attention, he’s a fierce warrior and needs to focus on his allegiance to the emperor, that’s what comes first. You follow very closely after, though! He’s quick to praise you for the things you do well and gently remind you of a better course of action when it comes to the things you don’t do too well. Acts of service enjoyer.

Konrad Curze : 2/10

DO NOT DATE THIS MAN. Konrad is a walking red flag. The self loathing, the anger, the angst, the general belief in humanity as a fallacy. He’s also incredibly violent, and may cause you serious harm if you ever managed to anger him. He’s a primarch, and you’re a human. Don’t you dare piss him off. I don’t know why anyone would realistically want that. Please continue to paint him as mean angry babygirl with a soft spot in your fics though. If you think you can fix him, you can’t. The emperor already tried.

Angron : 4/10

Before his conversion to chaos, Angron would’ve been a great boyfriend if we’re being honest. He was kind, compassionate, encouraging. He loved you when you were enslaved beside him, but once he became a primarch and lost everything, his beloved included, he became one of the most ruthless and cruel people out there until he succumbed to Khorne. He doesn’t remember you. His love language was words of affirmation.

Corvus Corax : 4/10

A very melancholic and depressed primarch. He’s very angsty and honestly a major drag to be around. He and Konrad, i feel like, would be better boyfriends to each other than either of them would be to you. Corvus isn’t as violent as Konrad, but he definitely carries on the hatred, the sorrow, and the bitterness. He’s also very sensitive, so expect to be met with either violence or a breakdown if you try to leave. 2 extra points because you may get to keep your life, his love language is words of affirmation, always followed by self deprecation.

Alpharius Omegon : 7/10

He’s they’re a great boyfriend to be honest, though very secretive, and that raises many questions. You don’t know that there are two of them. It’s a secret, not even one that you’re allowed to know the answer to. Alpharius is obviously the more dominant brother, the one who you think has a soft side. He doesn’t. That’s not him, that’s Omegon. Omegon is much more gentle, quiet, and quite honestly a little more touchy. Why? because you make him feel seen. Alpharius is used to the spotlight, so giving him every ounce of your attention feels like the usual, though he still enjoys it very much. Alpharius expresses love through acts of service and gift giving, while Omegon expresses love through words of affirmation and quality time. They make up for everything the other lacks, as long as you don’t know the massive secret they’re keeping from you…

[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.

[sirenscriptures]

primarchs + fantasies (2)

anonymous asked: Can I like. Beg you to do another of the primarch fantasies. But including Angron and Peter Turbo. Don't care too much about who else you go for if you do it but please there's so little content for them 😭😭😭🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

notes: you ask and you shall receive my sweet anon <3 if you want more primarchs for this series of hcs do let me know!! i decided to include my fav emo ankle biting bat and pretty goth raven man along with your lovely choices. (mdni banner is by arlerts-angel!)

warnings: pretty much gender neutral ! reader. size difference. touch starved primarch time. possessiveness. some bondage. body worship mentioned. depictions of fear play + predator/prey + slight stalking on konrad’s part. the primarchs not knowing how to deal with intimate feelings (shocker!!)

perturabo

for one so cold such as perturabo, it’s a safe assumption that any type of fantasy—even if fleeting—is an utter waste of time. and to no one’s surprise, wasted time is one of his many irritants.

in general, primarchs aren’t recognized as being the greatest with intimacy, yet there are certainly ones who are better at handling it than others, and perturabo is not within that group, at least not yet. shall we say…he would be low-ranked on the intimacy scale compared to some of his brothers.

though, in his slow-building foundation of trust with you, various facets of the massive primarch began to reveal themselves.

it started small, really—fleeting thoughts in your absence of how you watched with a bright curiosity at how he spent so many hours repairing and creating countless devices at his workbench, looping even the smallest of interactions you were able to have in your limited time together within his head during his alone time, the feeling of your prolonged absence beginning to drive an even emptier pit within his chest that made it impossible to focus on anything…

at a certain point, the initial waves of these new urges made perturabo’s already thin patience begin to melt away completely, making him more prone to snapping at everyone around him, even toward you at times—which he of course would come to regret.

but other than his immense frustration due to his inability to recognize and fully confront his deeper desires, he would find himself giving into these “wastes of time” he’d resented so much before.

specifically, desires to explore every part of your delicate body. desires that made him, perturabo of all souls, yearn for physical contact from only you. even if it meant splaying you out on his workbench or hooking you into one of his large contraptions so you had nowhere to flee, he’d do it.

just envisioning how your fragile skin would be stained with marks from metal straps and contraptions digging into your soft flesh, how warm and tight you would be even with his thick cock barely inside of you, and how addictive your noises would be to him as he’d let himself finally have the privilege of getting completely lost in pleasure instead of his own monumental ego…it was enough to drive even someone as stone cold as him mad.

yet, there was more to these thoughts. perturabo had no interest in simply pleasuring you, or getting his pleasure from you. even though pleasure in this sense was fundamental, the aspect that enthralled him the most was being able to call you “his”. not that just your body was his, but that you belonged to him. and he had no means of forgetting to remind you. physically, emotionally, mentally, he wanted to let you know that you belonged to no one else but him.

the more he entertained these thoughts, the more he couldn’t even really recognize himself anymore. you had somehow managed to completely rewire his way of thinking. whether this was good or bad was to be determined…maybe after he did what he did best: putting his ideas into action.

angron

although angron is one of the primarchs who struggles with intimacy the most, that doesn’t mean he is immune from having the same thoughts and desires as his brothers. the only thing that truly “prevents” these thoughts are—you guessed it—the nails.

due to the amount of pain he was in at almost every waking moment, angron had essentially written off any other feeling than his anger. after all, he had no choice. the way he was engineered made this unfortunate truth evermore present, especially when you started growing on him.

he couldn’t even fathom how it was possible that he’d started growing attached to you. of course he had care for certain folk around him, like his sons and certain siblings, of course. but when it came to you, it was completely different. not even the nails could drive hard enough into his brain tissue to convince him that it wasn’t. yet, any time he wished to explore the sensations you gave him, the anger would always wash over him even more than the last time.

anyone that even knew slightly of the primarch knew that his fury was unmatched. his rage boiled like no other, even out of the deepest pits of the immaterium; and the way he fought and shed others' blood displayed that clearly. and though his exterior would never let you know it, he did have the capacity to worry despite the pain.

the truth was that these desires were possibly even stronger than his own potent rage. but angron knew, with that same bitter taste in his mouth, that even if he were able to, letting himself release onto you would only end up hurting you; but more likely killing you. though he could be bloodthirsty and careless of the lives he tossed away, you were different to him than others. his trust was not easy to gain by just anybody, but your gentle nature and genuine kindness even despite his own temperament had gradually surrendered it to you.

though it’s immensely painful for him, sometimes he can’t help but to think of you. there are so many times where he craves the feeling of your bare skin against his. times where he can feel you in every aspect, from the taste of your lips to how it feels pushing inside you. the pain he’s so used to feeling doesn’t stop him from envisioning how hypnotizing you’d look pushing yourself down onto his shaft, head throwing back as your entire body trembled at the feeling of his length stretching you from the inside.

he knew it could never truly happen because of these feelings, but a part of him wanted so badly to feel you with his own hands. as battered and scarred as they were, you’d always looked so soft to him. the attraction angron had to you seemed to only fester when he had these thoughts, causing even more pain for him.

envisioning a position where he can have you in his possession and feel every single part of you without any pain feels like it could be the closest feeling to euphoria he could ever feel. even if it’s just a sliver of the sensation, the pain feels worth it in some form. even if you have to restrain him until he has fresh scars, it would all be worth it for you. at least, some part of him felt that.

corvus corax

like many of his brothers, corvus is extremely complicated. there are many cold and immovable aspects to his personality, yet there is still the glimmer of humanity in him. there are also aspects of vulnerability that you don’t get to see too often, at least as a human surrounded primarily by legionaries.

even as a human who never got much interaction with him, corvus knew there was something about you worth exploring. while it was never too common for primarchs to interact so personally with humans in or outside of their legions, he wasn’t the type to be concerned about any raised eyebrows or whispers.

the more alone time he spends with you, while limited at first, only makes this curiosity within him grow. every visit with you makes him want to know even more about you than the last, even when your conversations expand from only mere minutes to hours.

while it only seems like a harmless interest of his in the early stages, corvus slowly begins to realize just how much of an impact you leave on him, and it eats away at him in your absence. there is something desperate within him when thinking of you. it doesn’t make sense at first due to how new these sensations are to the primarch, but it comes together eventually.

maybe it was how deeply he’d gotten to know you that drew him closer. even just the sight of your face or sound of your voice could pull him from even the darkest of ruminations that plagued his mind so often. the first time he’d ever heard you sincerely smile and laugh without any worry of formality made something in him feel more alive than ever.

his thoughts of you were fond, but they had so much more depth now. because of you, his mind no longer felt so dark and clouded.

the desperation he felt for you was connected to the deep longing for your touch. though he could never let you know that, corvus still ached to feel you. his thoughts of you were full of admiration not only for your character and personality, but also for your body.

if he let himself slip too much into the thought, it would make him wonder what it would be like exploring your body. you were so delicate, so gentle that he’d have to almost “train” himself to handle you properly and with care. your body was so fascinating to him entirely. in his mind, there wasn’t any other way to make you know that than to worship it entirely.

so many thoughts and wonders of feeling you and noting which parts of you were most sensitive, so many visions of your back arching and body squirming, so many questions of whether you felt similar to him.

of course, he has to pull himself away from these thoughts, which is a battle against himself every time. though, there are still so many questions in his mind that remain. even when he’s gotten to know so much about you, there is always a deeper yearning in the raven guard primarch to display how much he desires you as a whole. for now, he can only hope that these fantasies don’t just exist as such forever.

konrad curze

curze is another one of those special cases, in that most if not all of his fantasies involve invoking fear in some way. yet, his fantasies about you are quite different from his fantasies of how he sheds others’ blood.

in true primarch nature, it takes him quite a while to properly acknowledge these thoughts and urges. having these types of feelings for a human was the last thing he’d ever expected in his lifetime. he never would have found his mind capable of ever having these feelings for really anyone.

for a being so centered on generating fear and violence wherever he is, it’s like the world he’d always known was shattering around him. the discovery of his feelings and desires for you feel like konrad’s biggest loss yet an amazing revelation at the exact same time.

before, you were such an insignificant face in his mind. just an innocent stranger, almost like the rest of them. almost. that was the part that had stuck out in his mind: you were clearly different in the way he’d spared you from death. yet, he never understood why.

these feelings are almost unbearable to him, like a sickness of some kind. it’s almost like feeling this way changes him physically in some form, because it seems to take a toll on his health and stature for a while. yet somehow, it feels good…and he doesn’t want the overwhelming sensations to stop.

though he manages to hide it from you when you’re present, it comes to a point where even the mere scent of you fires off a million of these sensations at once: head spinning, vision almost completely blurred, feelings of that same drunken sickness mixed with an intense, unquenchable thirst for more blinding all rational thoughts…

yet, it somehow only intensifies. he can’t help but think of how beautiful you’d look underneath him, eyes glassy with that familiar fear he’d evoked in so many. even if it’s only an image in his mind, konrad can feel how soft your lips are, how delicate your neck is with his massive hand engulfing it, and how desperately you writhe beneath his body, both in fear and arousal.

the mere thought of you eventually becomes insatiable to him. he needs to feel you, needs to be as close to you as he possibly can, even if that means lurking wherever you are. he really doesn’t care whether you see or not, though he has quite a talent for slipping right away from your vision before you can even turn your head.

it doesn’t matter how much he tries to fight the visions away. once his mind was set on you, an endless spiral drove deeper into his mind with each passing moment. even if he would never fully understand why he’d felt this way, or how this had ever come to be, konrad knew that there was far too much enjoyment to be had in this little game of chase with you to really care.

even if there was a very small part of him that did truly wonder of the deeper parts of yourself other than your mixed fear and interest within him, he’d never truly let that be known. at least, not in a direct way. but who knows? maybe one day you’d see that mask slip accidentally. but until then, he would still keep so many secrets from you, even in his own fantasies of you.

written by sirenscriptures. do not copy, repost, rewrite, translate, use, or post on to any other site.

[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]

The desire to possess (Part 3)

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

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

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

Word count: 3009

Song: Rammstein - Amour

I had inspiration as you can see.

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was truly innocent and beautiful that day.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want you to repeat it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'll drown worlds in blood for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You belong to me."

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You called me.”

[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

[lxvvie]

So as I was writing and getting requests done, I had a thought: how about we take that trend I did with Call of Duty and apply it to your favorite primarchs? This begs the question: How would your dearly beloved primarchs react if you called them by their full name... because of reasons?

Horus - Hits you with one of his most dazzling smiles. It's too dazzling, which lets you know that Horus got into some shit. You question him and he gives you a vague answer while still smiling.

Leman Russ - You and he both know he's been up to no good so he'll either proposition you or make sure he's not in the vicinity to hear you call his name lmao.

Ferrus Manus - Instantly stops whatever it is he's doing; contemplates a response and ultimately decides to make himself scarce somewhere else.

Fulgrim - Is affronted that you'd call his name with such... irreverence. Will actually ignore you. Bastard.

Vulkan - Will also stop what he's doing and answer your call just as fervently as you called him. Has a tendency to resort to hugs to placate you. Those hugs are amazing, though... You can never stay mad at him for too long.

Rogal Dorn - Responds by calling you by your full name. With no intonation. Smart ass.

Roboute Guilliman - Will give some bullshit explanation while multi-tasking that would make Horus proud as to why he got into shit and how said shit has been resolved. May or may not work depending.

Magnus - It becomes a staring contest because you want him to give you an answer and he's trying to figure out why you called him.

Sanguinius - His foresight never prepares him for the way you say his name. Would put on his best saccharine smile that Horus would also be proud of but it's ineffective because his wings usually give him away.

Lion El'Jonson - Gives no fucks. Save for a quick glance will refuse to acknowledge your call. Because of reasons that have nothing to do with the fact that he's in deep shit.

Perturabo - Will pretty much stomp his way to you and get eye-level with you with a sneer. "Why do you call me?" A battle of wills and glares ensues.

Mortarion - Will look down on you, literally and figuratively.

Lorgar - Is the one who puts Horus and Sanguinius to shame because he ALWAYS placates you. ALWAYS. It never fails. But this is after he's winced and bowed his head some, even though he towers over you.

Jaghatai Khan - Gotta catch him first to find out lmao.

Konrad Curze - Results may vary. Might even hear some gremlin screeching... er, do you really wanna know?

Angron - Smirks and chuckles because he most certainly did some shit and he's practically begging you to say something about it.

Corvus Corax - May or may not be repentant, depending on the severity. Also may or may not make himself known but an effort was made, I suppose.

Alpharius - You're better off wondering what it is he didn't do. Whenever he comes, you're left wondering if that's the real Alpharius or if he sent a proxy like the last couple of times.

[mothiir]

which primarchs are into their partner crying?

cw: dubcon, noncon, explicit sexual content.

Fulgrim - absolutely loves it when you breaks down into overwhelmed tears, sobbing with pleasure, unable to form words as he wrings another orgasm from you. He thinks you are beautiful when you cry, and won’t hesitate to tell you this, cooing it as he licks the tears from your face, all while whispering in your ear that you are beautiful, perfect, darling, all his. He will fuck you until you cry, then make you sit for a portrait — if the tears stop flowing at any point he will sigh, like all of this is a great inconvenience, set his paints aside and busy himself between your thighs until you begin to weep once more. Yes. Perfect. Like that. He is not above whispering degrading filth into your ears when you are at your most vulnerable — telling you what a stupid sloppy whore you are after you have just taken his load to your face, or cooing about how wonderful it will be to watch you bend over and take his legion, one after the other. Once you start weeping, he will gather you close, kiss your neck, tell you not to fret, that he doesn’t mean it, not really. He just loves seeing you look so puffy-lipped and red-eyed.

Konrad - as ever with konrad, it is a weird dramatic mix of he really really likes it when you cry, loves it when you’re weeping and begging him to stop hurting you, is never harder than when you are sobbing to the point where you get snotty and ugly and gross…and yet he also hates the fact that he enjoys it and will not admit how much it turns him on. the end result of this is that he will make you cry, and then blame you for being such a weak little human — you are innocent of any crime, which is why you are in his bed rather than on his flaying rack. Why must you snivel so? Has he not been merciful? Has he not been kind?

Alpharius/Omegon — they love it when you cry, but in very specific circumstances, in that they prefer it to be more psychological. They like it when you get teary with confusion, unable to tell which one is touching you, or which of their sons fucked you the night before. They thrive in subterfuge, and rendering you a teary, frustrated mess before fucking you senseless makes them feel oh so good at their job.

Perturabo — of course he likes it. He likes it when you cry because he’s too big for you to take, when you are stretched to breaking point around his dick, but still have another dozen inches to take; he likes it when.— normally despite, rather than because of, his efforts — you cum, and cry from the sheer overwhelming sensation. basically, he likes tears because they make him feel Big and Strong and Manly.

The Emperor — had to throw him in there, because you cannot tell me that one of Big E’s favourite things isn’t cooing and murmuring encouragement while you cry that he’s too big, it’s too much, you can’t take it. And he will say yes you can, you absolutely can, he’s not a god but he can perform miracles — namely, sheathing his considerable sword in your dagger-sized scabbard. And yes, he will say that almost verbatim. He’s a barbarian warlord. He has a limited range of metaphors.

As a bonus: Leman Russ absolutely hates it when you cry. He doesn’t mind a bit of scrabbling and kicking, but he does not like whining and snivelling, and — depending on the nature of your relationship — he will either stop at once and cling to you, or scruff you and tell you to stop that whining because he’s getting soft.

[moodymisty]

Hi, i was wondering if you could do an x reader for dorn or mabey peterturabo again. I just love these boys

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: Hey anon, I just posted this Dorn fic here, but I feel a little bad leaving you empty handed and I do love me some Perty, so here's a little tiny snippet I didn't know what to do with.

Relationships: Perturabo/Gn!Reader featuring Sanguinius

Warnings: Perturabo. Sanguinus being a bit of a cunt (as he should be) and poking Perturabo's fragile ego

"Ahh, so you must be Lord Perturabo's littlest warrior. We were wondering if we'd ever catch sight of you."

Sanguinius looks down on you with a gentle smile. You assume the 'we' he refers to is his fellow Primarchs, an idea of which makes your stomach twist and turn in your gut.

"I hope he hasn't been too inhospitable since," He glances away, his miffed expression cues you into what he's more than likely referring to. His wings gently shift, the feathers fluffed out comfortably. The golden armor he wears reflects the cold sunlight of Terra and gives it a golden sheen, his pelt cape shifting as he favors leaning on one leg.

You haven't looked directly in his direction since he joined you on the massive balcony, and you turn to bow and speak with the proper prose. It's the least you can do after being surprised with his arrival. You'd barely even heard his footfall before hearing him speak, his gentle but firm voice had nearly startled you out of your basic wits.

"He's been well, Lord Primarch."

It's the least you can do in the presence of the angel; You hadn't been expecting him and you feel so hideously under-dressed, tongue twisting to try and form the proper words.

The Angel manages to both soothe your nervousness and heighten it, as the corners of his mouth turn upwards and he lets out a small laugh.

"I do hope Perturabo doesn't demand you speak to him with such theatrics; He's always been the stauncher of us a-"

"Sanguinius."

The angel turns to the entryway from where he'd come, blonde hair falling over the collar of his armor in waves. The larger Primarch moves closer looking directly at Sanguinius, but the angel is effortless in deflecting the irritation Perturabo throws at him.

"There you are. We were just talking about you."

Peturabo is already in a foul mood, and to find his winged brother sniffing around you and using that silver tongue of his only serves to stoke that already fueled fire. Sanguinus' smile drops just a tad as he realizes Perturabo's discontent figuratively spilling over onto the marble floor.

The Hammer of Olympia steps closer to you and with one massive hand, places it on the railing; Separating you from Sanguinius and obscuring most of your form. The silent display of possessiveness is a bit surprisingly to the angel, as you watch his expression change.

"Am I not allowed to jest with my brother and his beloved?"

The two of them are completely at odds with one another; Though Sanguinius knows well that Perturabo is being tested. He simply finds it amusing to make him bristle. The air around you is so thick you swallow heavily, watching the two of them.

You could never tell another Primarch to cease, nor would Perturabo ever forgive you for the stain on his honor of trying to fight on his behalf. It would also be a dream to even entertain the idea of him taking the higher ground and not attempting to pick a fight with Sanguinius, of whom glances down at you and watches the way you get swallowed by Perturabo's shadow.

But now you stand in the vicinity of two near demigods, sweating hands holding onto the railing of the balcony as the angel continues to nettle Perturabo.

"Fine fine, I'll take my leave."

Sanguinius looks outward over the balcony before glancing down at you. His expression is unreadable- a flawlessly gentle smile and soft eyes as he looks over Perturabo's massive arm. He squares his shoulders more so in preparation if Sanguinus attempts to move closer to you.

"Enjoy the palace, little warrior."

[aqua-the-smiter]

Gimme the pebus. I need the pebus. I want to call him daddy as he makes me a mommy.

-Cracks knuckles- Let's do this. LEEROOOOOY JEEEEEENKINS. Perturabo X female reader Summary: You are Peter Turbo's wife and you've given him a few heirs already. He wants more. Heavy breeding kink, mommy/daddy talk, Perturabo's iron within/iron without. ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

"Good girl." The Primarch practically snarled in your ear as he held you pinned with his own body weight. One of his arms was wrapped around your torso, just under your breasts. The other was shoved under your belly and between your legs, holding your clit in a tight pinch while he fucked you. The rest of your quivering frame was stuck underneath him. You arched your lower half up as best you could, giving him easier access to your tight, dripping little hole. You felt his teeth sink gently into your earlobe, his voice more of a purr this time as he praised you. "Such a good girl. Taking me like this. You're going to give me another son, won't you?" There was a little flutter of excitement in you at the thought of him getting you pregnant again. He'd already done so thrice now, giving you three little boys that both you and him utterly adored. You'd be more than happy to have a fourth, and he seemed to be of a mind to give it to you. As if to emphasize his point he chose that moment to force another orgasm out of you. You felt your pussy spasm clench around his huge, thick cock and you moaned into the sheets your face was pressed into. He fucked you through the whole thing. It was a few moments before you could respond properly. "Yes daddy~♡." You managed to spit out between the whorish moans he was fucking from you. "Fill me up. I'll make you one again." Perturabo's grip tightened on you. Damn it all, but he was impressed with how well you knew how to get to him. Of course, two could play that game. "Poor girl. You're so desperate to have your little womb filled with my seed. You want that? You want me to make you a mommy again?" "Please!" "How could I say no when you beg so sweetly?" He grabbed your hips and you felt his massive balls slap you clit as he barely rode out his final thrusts before spilling in you. His tip nestled right up against your cervix as he came, spurting in hot, thick ropes of cum that filled you very quickly. You pushed yourself a little further down his cock, loving the feeling of him being completely hilted in you as he came. Wrapping an arm around you, he rolled over to lay down, not pulling out. Letting his still hard manhood remain in you and keep all his semen from leaking out. He cuddled you close to his chest, breathing hard. "I hope you knocked me up again daddy." You took his free hand with yours, twining your fingers with his the best you could. He pressed a kiss to your temple. "I'd be more surprised if I didn't. But..." His voice turned sultry again. "It wouldn't hurt to make sure, would it?" You smirked up at your husband, drinking in the sight of the naked desire for you in those ice blue eyes. "No, it wouldn't." You'd be more than happy to take him all night, and it seemed like you'd get your wish.

[heabitfruity]

Sexuality Headcanons: Primarch + Emperor Edition

Lion - On the Asexual spectrum, but not sex repulsed. He is willing to do it for someone he loves; prefers to be in control.

Fulgrim - Pansexual, prefers women to anyone else, wants someone he considers perfect because he’s fucking vain. (definitely the bitch to say “all women are queens” but then go "not you, darling")

Perturabo - Honestly, he is aceflux. He frequently has spouts of "ew, sex."

Khan - Straight. Simple as that.

Leman - Bisexual, prefers AFAB people because of tits. Man is a breast fan, but if he sees an AMAB person with some nice pecs he will definitely enjoy them as well. (Definitely does the honk-honk thing with consent, makes him giggle)

Dorn - Aroace, fully romantically and sexually repulsed.

Konrad - Asexual; he does feel romantic feelings but he has no idea what to do with them

Sanguinius - Bisexual with strangely high standards, also wants to romantically spoil someone.

Ferrus - Straight, but has definitely questioned his sexuality before, and is now comfortable.

Angron - TBD, he hates himself too much.

Guilliman - Straight, in a DILF way.

Mortarion - Aroace, in a normal aroace way.

Magnus - The type of man to say Sapiosexual and Morosexual. He doesn’t care about gender, he just enjoys if they can fight back in a debate or if they’re a him/bim/theybo.

Horus - Pansexual, doesn’t care; he simply wants someone to snuggle with. He also has a lot of charisma so he definitely is probably polyamorous.

Lorgar - Straight. (he gets no bitches)

Vulkan - Bisexual, in a wholesome way.

Corvus - Aromantic and Demisexual, sex is kind of weird with him. He doesn’t trust it.

Alpharius/Omegon - Nobody knows.

The Emperor - Pansexual, doesn’t have time to give a rat’s ass about gender when he fucks.

[ms--lobotomy]

Maybe you celebrate Easter. Maybe you celebrate Trans Day of Visibility. Maybe you celebrate both, or neither. I am here to make those holidays infinitely worse or better, depending on how you look at this post. Special thanks to @squishyowl for giving me the parameters to calculate their (hard) schmeat sizes.

Without further adieu, Primarch cock descriptions. and also kind of how they fugg

LION EL'JONSON- 11 inches, 27 cm. Untrimmed and uncut. He shows a godly amount of restraint to you. Behind closed doors, he's much softer than he lets on. As far as girth goes, he's in the middle of the road... for a Primarch. He may not be the most experienced of his brothers, but he's going to do a thorough job anyways.

???- Dick fell off.

FULGRIM- 10 inches, 25 cm. Long and slender. You may expect a piercing, but he does not want to mar his natural appearance (at least before the Heresy.) Shaves religiously. He likes when his partner can't move, when they squirm underneath him, though he'll have a hard time admitting this.

PERTURABO- 7 inches, 18 cm. The smallest cock on the list, but he more than makes up for it while he is using it. He's got a bit of girth to him, but he can still fit in your mouth. Somewhat. His hands engulf your head as he pushes you down on him. Once he's out, tell him how good he feels.

JAGHATAI KHAN- 13 inches, 33 cm. The fastest one out of the Primarchs as far as each thrust goes. It curves up when erect, not unlike a scimitar. Veiny, but not strikingly so. Even though he's exceptionally fast, he likes being ridden. Especially on his bike.

LEMAN RUSS- 14 inches, 35 cm. He's uncut and hairy down there, he's never shaved his bush. He's also girthy. But what's most remarkable about him is his knot. This makes it hard for him not to breed his partners, where applicable. He'll hold you down and lock himself in on you, holding you down on him with his massive hands.

ROGAL DORN- 10 inches, 25 cm. He's circumcised and he keeps a clean shave. He's girthy, but not unbearably so. He enjoys tying up his partner and watching them melt as he goes down on them. Ever stoic, his expression rarely changes as he plows through you. Also a fan of doing it in his office.

KONRAD CURZE- 9 inches, 23 cm. Veiny, almost paper white, and uncut. He's not a gentle lover, especially considering his size. Usually there will be blood involved, and usually it is yours. He doesn't normally just use his cock; if he can reach you, he'll be biting you. And if not, he'll draw blood anyways.

SANGUINIUS- 8 inches, 20 cm. Surprisingly girthy, with low-hanging balls. He's uncut, but his bush is usually trimmed. He doesn't just use his cock, he bites where he can and envelopes you in his wings. He's gentle... for the first five minutes. He'll leave the most marks out of any of the Primarchs, prompting you to cover up the day after.

FERRUS MANUS- 17 inches, 43 cm. Lord have mercy. He is the most well-endowed Primarch, with balls to match. He'll hold you down with his cool silver hands as he pushes himself in. He's gentle, far more than he lets on, but he is still a Primarch. He's become quite the aftercare giver.

???- Penis serious, Penis delirious. Penis in the woods, call that penis mysterious

ANGRON- 9 inches, 23 cm. The arena had not been kind, as he is scarred in several places around it. Fortunately, no blade has ever found its way there. He isn't gentle, not one bit, even if he is chained down. The Nails eat at his head, screaming for bloodshed. He thrusts faster in a vain attempt to block out the agony in his head.

ROBOUTE GUILLIMAN- 8 inches, 20 cm, and girthy. Despite his size being closer to normal for a baseline human, it's harder to fit it in due to his circumference. With some lube and determination, though, you can make it work. He likes putting it in you and watching you try to keep your composure before you inevitably slip up.

MORTARION- 11 inches, 27 cm. It's long and gaunt on him, but it's still massive in your hand. He's one of the more sensitive Primarchs, but he'd prefer if that fact were kept under wraps. Gentle touch gets him going like nothing else. And once he gets going, you'll get to bear firsthand witness to the endurance he's known for.

MAGNUS THE RED- The bastard can change his dick size on a whim. He already knows what size would make you feel best, and he can open up more than one hole at once using the Warp. He doesn't even have to touch you to open you up, turning you into an incomprehensible mess in front of him.

HORUS LUPERCAL- 12 inches, 30 cm. The most striking thing about it is the Prince Albert that adorns it, a simple iron thing with a dull shine. Even if by some miracle you're on top, he'll always be the dominant partner, and if you have the ability you are most definitely bearing his children at some point.

LORGAR AURELIAN- 11 inches, 28 cm. You weren't expecting the second shortest Primarch to pack so much, were you? Golden tattoos come close to it, but he hadn't the will to cover himself there. You'll spend a lot of time with him; he'll use his tongue for hours on end before finally gratifying himself.

VULKAN- 10 inches, 26 cm. He's warm all over, and below the belt is no exception. In the cold reaches of space, he's a great comfort. Even if he's not the biggest of the Primarchs, he likes watching you struggle on him. He's girthy, and he likes to choke you with it too. Gives the best aftercare.

CORVUS CORAX- 11 inches, 27 cm. He's long, slender, and he keeps a close shave. He's a gentle lover when you're properly going at it and not hiding your risque behavior while in public. He'll hold your hands and whisper praises into your ear, even if he has to bend himself at an uncomfortable angle.

ALPHARIUS- 8 inches, 21 cm. He's hairless, circumcised, and his balls are almost unnaturally even. You've seen many an Alpha Legion cock, and they all look similar. He likes to finish in his partner, leaving no trace that he was there except for the slightly odd hobble you have the next day.

[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.