#SPACE HUSBANDRY

[yagodnyizefir]

The rain is Alpharius

[sorormaior]

Astartes husbandry au :DDDDD

[rufus-made-flesh]

Space marine 2 has shown me there is alot of hot people in the grim far future

[purplebutwarhammer]

Space marine husbandry round two, this time with extended lore

[f1shz]

I haven't post in a few weeks now? I was busy

Trying to catch this little damn bat

I don't know how it got in my house and my mum is scare and freaking out about it. it try to give my mum a dead spider ,not just a small spider ,a giant huntsman spider, wtf. Also should I take it to the apothecary if that what its call? ,cause I think it took a bite out of my lipstick and a bunch of other stuff.plus this is the only clear image I have of it.

[navolot]

Help! I went away for the weekend and I came home to this!

What do I do?! I think the warband moved their kits into my house! I keep finding them in the walls!

[little-miss-bioweapon121]

Anybody have experience with Space Wolf Neophytes?

So this past weekend my Blood Angel, Ingrid, went out for his usual patrol of the woods on my property. He’s usually gone a day or two but that’s fairly normal for an Astartes, especially on a territory as wide as mine, but what wasn’t usual was him coming back home on Monday with a new little buddy in tow.

While not the first time Ingrid has brought me a rescue this is certainly his youngest find.

And also his rowdiest.

Now I specialize in the care of Blood Angels and Night Lords (the two breeds are shockingly alike in the behavioral aspects) and I have years of experience with local rescue shelters, but I’ve never cared for a neophyte before. In fact almost no one I work with has ever cared for a neophyte, these little guys are usually very well protected by their chapters so I’m actually shocked that there wasn’t a Space Wolf immediately at our doors looking for him.

So I guess back to my question: Any tips? I’m not familiar with Space Wolves at all so any advice helps!

I’ve tried asking Ingrid but he doesn’t know much more beyond the basic care that any breed would require.

Photo of Ingrid and the little guy!

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

• hard exoskeleton concealing squishy vital bits inside

• wide body with segmented limbs and downturned mouthparts

• many specialized organs and glands

• comprise about 25% of currently known guys

• god’s favourite

the rumor come out: does astartes is beetles?

Astartes DOES is beetles

And sometimes arachnid

[thatnightlamp]

First-Time Adopter: Is It Normal for My Night Lord to Whisper from the Ceiling at 3AM? Also, Is He... Collecting Teeth?

Hi everyone, first-time Astartes adopter here, and I just had a few questions about Night Lord behavior. I did read the pamphlet and I thought I was ready, but I feel like there were some things... omitted?

So I adopted Noctorion (I tried calling him “Nocty” he hissed and the lights flickered), and he’s very active at night. Like, I woke up at 2:58 AM to him perched silently on the top shelf of my bookcase, knees to chest, whispering a monologue about “shadows feeding on cowardice” to my houseplants. He stopped when I turned on the light and just stared at me until I apologized.

Is that normal?

Also, he’s been rearranging my furniture so it casts “more intimidating silhouettes.” He turned my Ikea lamp into a vaguely humanoid effigy and told me it was named “The Reminder.”

Oh, and I found a little pile of teeth in my sock drawer? Teeth. I don’t think they’re mine. I asked him and he just said, “Trophies of justice, for the righteous.”

He doesn’t bite (me), he actually folds my laundry, and he’s surprisingly good with my cat (they sit in mutual silence and stare out the window together), but I’m just wondering if there’s, like... enrichment activities I should be providing?

Would a jungle gym help? Or like... a fog machine?

Thanks in advance. Please no judgment. I love Nocty. I just fear him a little.

[littledarknesgold]

Destiny Teeth

Warnings: Yandere, Obsessive, Possessive, Possessive behaviour, kidnapped.

One of your colleagues said that having Astartes chasing you is romantic. You wanted to punch that coworker in the face.

Even if you weren't a girl, you still felt uneasy with the feeling of eyes on your back on the street.

'Perhaps' you could have cared less about being a man, which is what your friends told you, and at first you didn't pay attention to it either, because apparently Space Marines only messed with women, but maybe at that moment you could have at least run away, but now no one will know.

You tried not to stay late at work and didn't take shortcuts through the courtyards, but you underestimated the determination of the top pursuer...

A huge armored hand covers your mouth and drags you into the darkness of the gateway.

Perhaps you really should have spent more time on this.

Now you wake up in an unknown place with no windows and only one iron door.

But don't worry! Now you have a new companion, who, by the way, locked you here.

[yagodnyizefir]

@thethronezone OK. NOW THEY ARE MULTIPLYING

[sorormaior]

a new guest at the kulikov rescue

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Alow me to present how The Astarts under Captain Ash'val learn Cato isn't a Primaris killer:

One very harried and much in the need of a vacation Primarch finds himself in the woods. Step one find running water and go down hill to find civilization. Or he could folow the smell of baking bread. That's very promising. He sees a woman in a primative kitchen working on a less primative dataslate so he asks where he is,

Rose is baking bread in the outdoor oven. Gradeing spring semister final papers on her laptop while she hurries up and waits. Oh the dog is barking there's a very important Ultramarine. Definitely wished she'd goten someone to start teaching her Gothic sooner

The woman has just enough Gothic to convey going to call a translator and offer him hospitality. Some beverage sweet tannic and slightly mentholated from a large spigoted canister in Astartes sized cup. Very curious. The dog, a canine of noble and ancient lines is sideling while still seated over with the clear intent on making friends.

Rose can't reach Cato so tries Hrodr on speaker phone instead. "My bonded isn't answering-" and is cut off by an enthusiastic Space Wolf.

"Your bonded, how does the little mother to be put it? He beat the taste out of the mouth of Black Templar Chaplin Petras in single combat. While the Chaplin was in full armor! Sadly his vox did not survive. We shall sing of his victory and feast it. Once we get back from taking him to the Apothecary anyways. You should start comp-" Hrodr himself is cut off by none other than the man himself.

"Serves the bastard right for congraulating me for losing Astartes to the warp! How dare he imply that the Duke of Talassar would betray my comand! And so help me Wolf if you start singing i'll beat you and your double image to Mars and back!" Cato is being very Cato.

"Put the Head of my Viccatrix Guard on the vox. Now." Rose doesn't need to understand all the words to pass over the phone to the imperiously held out hand.

Cato thinks he may have been hit in the head even harder than he initially thought.

Yes! I love this.

Cato has time sit down again. Oh holy God Emperor.

"Lord Father?" Cato crooks out as he snaps to attention at the sound of a very important person. "How may I assist you, sir?"

The Space Wolves look like they are punch drunk and suddenly very intensely listening in- while also sending messages that A Primarch has landed on Ancient Terra.

[saintsylestine]

Built to Worship

gn!reader x astartes

Authors note: heard yall wanna read some space marine husbandry (人´∀`)♪ - also dumb question do we mean husbandry as in husband-like or as in... the cultivation of stock? (edit: i did not understand)... anyways here's my take on a reverent boy.

Tags: sfw!! (I think- pls correct me if I'm wrong), being held, worship kink but soft, he treats you like you're holy, kissing, caressing

The cold of the ship always found your skin first. No matter how many layers you wore, the cathedral walls of the Lament of Icarion breathed chill air from vents carved like reliquaries. Silence stretched for hours, pierced only by the sound of hymnal engine-hum and your own thoughts.

But when he was near, that cold never touched you.

Brother-Seraph Decimus towered above the mortal crew—an Ultramar giant with skin the color of burnished ivory and eyes like burning cobalt. Eight feet tall, encased in partial armor even at rest, he was both sentinel and sanctuary. You'd first seen him kneeling before the altar of the Omnissiah, his bare arms glinting with the scars of a hundred battles—each mark like a story written in calligraphy you ached to read.

Tonight, the war was far away. The halls were still. And Decimus came to you like a tidal wave, quiet but unstoppable.

“I have... missed the warmth of your pulse,” he said, voice like rumbling grav-engines. His hand engulfed your shoulder, then your back, until you felt scooped into him like a cherished relic. You barely reached his sternum, even standing tiptoe. But he made no mockery of your scale—he held you reverently, a contrast to the slaughter he dealt elsewhere.

With one arm, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you into the naked plane of his chest. His armor lay discarded in pieces—ceramite and adamantine scattered like the shed skin of a god. The warmth of his body burned through your clothes. He lay back on the narrow bunk, and you followed, cradled in the crook of his arm. It was like being tucked into a throne of living marble, his breath a slow and thunderous lullaby against your ear.

You shifted, and his fingers spread across your back, longer than your entire torso, calloused and careful.

“You are... so small,” he murmured, almost awed. “I could close my hand and hide you... yet you hold me tighter than any war-oath.”

You nuzzled closer. He allowed it. Encouraged it. The swell of his pectoral muscle rose beneath your cheek, and you felt the subtle twitch of a restrained need echo in his breathing.

"Does it frighten you?” he asked softly. “To be held by a monster?”

You shook your head, barely able to speak. You were trembling—but not from fear. From need. From the sense that you could lose yourself in the breadth of him and never be found again. You wanted to drown in that warmth. That scent of incense, gunmetal, and the deep ozone of a man bred to kill but now content to hold.

Decimus exhaled, pleased. The hand stroking your back slid lower, fingers spanning your entire spine. With a slow, seismic shift of his hips, he brought your bodies into closer alignment, the scale difference becoming impossible to ignore. The edge of heat between your thighs met the impossible girth of something still mostly restrained by control—and perhaps modesty, for now.

He tilted your chin up with a knuckle.

“I will not break you,” he promised. “But I will claim you, when you ask it. When you beg for it.”

He smiled then—a rare thing—and it made your chest ache.

“Sleep for now. And dream of being taken apart by hands that will always put you back together.”

---

The ship hummed around you like the breath of a sleeping god, deep and constant. Decimus didn’t sleep—Astartes rarely did—but he rested in vigil, still as a statue carved for war. You lay within the curve of his body, his hand resting at your hip, each finger thick as a torch handle and twice as warm.

The rise and fall of his chest beneath you lulled your mind into a strange twilight. You drifted—not quite dreaming, not quite waking—and in that space between, something opened.

Your breath caught. You were… somewhere else.

No longer the ship, no longer steel and incense and the far-off rumble of plasma vents. You stood barefoot in a hall of living stone, lit by violet fire that licked the edges of reality. The air was thick with the scent of myrrh, ozone, and Decimus.

He was there—closer than shadow, more vast than before. Nine feet now, perhaps ten. His armor was gone entirely, and he wore a robe of deep midnight blue, open at the chest. Pale skin marbled with veins like silver threads. He loomed, but not to frighten. To encompass.

You stepped toward him. The stone floor was warm beneath your feet. “Decimus?” you whispered, unsure if it was truly him or a dream echo.

His eyes flared—two suns behind a storm. “You came,” he said, with a voice that curled in your gut like smoke. “You called for me.”

He reached out, and the robe fell from his shoulders as if it feared to obstruct his touch. Hands like sculptor’s tools, terrible and gentle, swept down your arms, around your waist. He turned you slowly, reverently. Like he was reading a litany written across your skin. “So fragile,” he murmured, “and yet... perfectly made.”

You let your weight fall into him. He caught you easily, hoisting you up into his arms until you wrapped your legs around his waist, your face buried in the junction of his neck and shoulder. He carried you through the endless hall, murmuring promises in a language too old for the tongue, too intimate for translation.

“Do you know what I would do to keep you?” he growled low, voice vibrating through your bones. “I would hollow out ships with my hands. I would drown planets in silence. But here… here, I only want to unmake you.”

Your breath hitched. “Unmake me?”

“To rebuild you. From pulse to soul. Until your name is written in my mouth like prayer.”

He lowered you onto a great stone bed, soft with silks and the scent of him. Towering above, he braced one hand beside your head, the other curling around your jaw.

“Let me take you apart,” he whispered, eyes burning. “Let me worship each trembling piece before I put you back together.”

----warning: slightly spicy caressing/kissing---

He knelt above you like a cathedral built of flesh and fury, eyes molten and ancient, expression stricken with awe—as though he’d stumbled upon a relic too holy to touch.

But he did touch you. Gods, he did.

One hand spanned your ribs, spreading wide, fingers arching around your side like the bones of a gilded cage. The other swept up the curve of your thigh, not grasping—mapping. His fingertips found the inner line of your leg and followed it upward with aching slowness, the way a scholar traces the edge of a forbidden manuscript.

“You are not made for war,” he murmured, voice barely breath. “And yet your body is the fiercest thing I have ever beheld. How it trembles… how it receives me.”

He kissed you—finally—but not on the mouth. That was too expected. Instead, he bowed his great head to your sternum and pressed his lips over your heartbeat. A slow inhale. Then another. Like he was memorizing the rhythm. As though your pulse was the only sound in the void worth hearing.

“Each part of you,” he whispered, kissing lower, “is a verse.”

His mouth mapped you with maddening patience. Your abdomen, the soft flare of your hips, the inside of your wrist—all tasted, claimed, blessed. Between each kiss, he murmured something in High Gothic, the words old and full of weight, like binding spells. Prayers not to the Emperor, but to you.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, wide as a wall, feeling the subtle shifts of muscle beneath his skin. He shivered—shivered, this leviathan of steel and death—beneath your touch. It made you ache.

“I have crushed skulls with these hands,” he said, lifting them to show the battle-worn calluses, the scars. “But tonight… they learn gentleness again. Because of you.”

He bent, his face level with your navel, and breathed you in. His nostrils flared, eyes fluttering closed.

“I could hold you here,” he murmured, “between my palms like a breath. I could cover your whole body with just my mouth.”

He kissed you again—lower still—then paused. “Not yet,” he said, as if fighting himself. “You are not to be taken in haste. You are not prey. You are… ritual.”

And so, he rose again, stretched full above you, and curled around your body like a storm come home to roost. Your head tucked beneath his chin, his hand splayed across your belly, thumb brushing the edge of your navel.

“I will not touch you again until you ask,” he vowed, voice like distant thunder. “Not until your soul aches with the need to be broken open… and remade in me.”

------------ NSFW continuation coming-----------

Ty for reading (〃￣ー￣〃) hope you enjoyed. Will post the NSFW soon... somwhere... do people have a preference between here and AO3? Lmk.

[purplebutwarhammer]

[f1shz]