#adeptus custodes x reader

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈

“Interesting, this one came out early. :) I’m add this to my AO3.” - Ichor

Summary - “You give the Emissaries Imperatus an written envelope, only to end up with more than you're comfortable with.”

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

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

TW // Controlled Panic?

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖���𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Chapter I} • {Chapter III}

Your eyes watch the standing golden knight in front of you. Skimming over any detail that his still armor could give you. Your mind debating on even attempting to… make contact with the custodian as you shift in your seat, trying to get comfortable despite the soreness in your side. The same question popping up in your mind.

Can you just up and trust this- these golden beings that don’t belong? Can you trust the unknown? Can you trust them on watching over Eden, would they even do it? Would they even accept a written proposal from you? You don’t even trust them enough with your own voice…

“Speak your mind, little one.” The aquamarine visor of the golden knight glows a bit brighter on acknowledging you with a male, modified voice. That weird… what do they call it? Feathers? Plume? That red plume of theirs waving softly behind their cone-like helmet as the vent system of the mansion keeps the small library-like office cool. In fact, it is the only area in the whole mansion that was cold and very much protected by the golden knights for a reason your mind cannot grasp.

You don’t give a hum or a movement of acknowledgement to the golden knight, but your eyes? They do. They search him, judge him, strike him down if they could. You wanted information on the one that seems to be the… messenger of the group. Even if you would like to know more: where they come from, their purpose, but you know you’re limited by things unseen. Things that shouldn’t be true. Things that make you have a migraine just thinking of the golden knights. It’s preposterous, and cruel in its way.

“Come now,” The golden knight encourages you. His modified voice deep, rumbling, something that seems it was a genetic tone for them to have, including the Astartes. Yet his seemed to be more smoother; softer. You suppose not all are a copy and paste. There is something in them the makes them different like how all humans don’t have the same finger prints. “You do not sit there to stare at any one of us. You need something.”

His words speak truth. You were never one to just stare blankly. If anything, that was a trick to any on lookers, but these keen beings have read you just as you have read them. Well, in body language. There was nothing in books that could explain these beings. However, do you really need something? Were you really desperate enough to seek something they could provide? That is even if they accept your proposal, but you weren’t going to take a denial for an answer. If these beings stayed around this hellish household, they can made do on your proposal.

Your eyes shift up to his glowing visor, staring him down with such intensity from where you lounge on the dark brown leather chair that it makes him tilt his head to a centimeter to the side. Another thing you notice these beings having a same habit of doing. Always tilting their helmets when they seem curious of something in front of them that causes the head tilt.

Then, you stand. A bit tense at first, but the more steps you dare to take to be in front of the golden knight? The more your form is… unseeingly: hidden, more… confident. Your head having to tilt back and look up at him while he has to lean a bit to look down at you, and the both of you just stare at one another for a moment. His form shifting; straightening up. His eyes beneath his helmet watching as your hand reaches into your back pocket and bringing out on envelope with a wax seal on it. Your hand positioning the envelope where he can clearly see it as he was dumb enough to not to.

You keep the envelope in front of him, making sure that he is absolutely seeing it. You were not going to play around on this deal that you wouldn’t even have done, but your hand is forced. You would not be there for Eden, even if you wanted to. It was just not possible with your position. You are at a barrier with your family and you have other stuff going on that needed your attention. So, there guys are really your own best bet in this situation. If not? You suppose an Alpha Legionnaire wouldn’t mind taking that place. At least, until she finds her own bond or that Astartes might get lucky, who knows. You’re not against a bond, but you are not keen of one either, for yourself anyways.

The Custodies lifts his gauntlet slowly to take the small envelope into his armored fingers. Seemingly not wanting to scare you away as he was the height of a damn skyscraper, and he knows you feel a bit… differently about them. You’re not that easily swayed with whatever the warp holds over this ancient Terra like a regular baseline. Your little mind subconsciously notices they don’t belong.

You turn away from him when he takes the envelope, walking back to the chair and just stopping just before the end table off to the side. A cream colored, touched activated table lamp lighting up the area a bit more as the sun starts to set for the day through the picture window. The oak trees swaying slightly outside at the nighttime breeze. Your form leaning a bit to pick up a book upon the end table and flip through it for a second. Thinking of what you have done today while you hear the Golden Knight open your envelope.

You have gone out in the early morning, the air still crisp with frost. Your breath able to still make a cloud of carbon into the air that brings a certain nostalgia over you as mourning doves coo out, greeting the new day. It’s soft sounds definitely better than a rooster screaming at the crack of dawn. That would no doubt awaken the Golden Knights quick, not that you were sure they even sleep… You swear that Shadow Keeper doesn’t. You get caught by that one in the middle of the night all the time. You also get caught by that Solar Watch too, if you wandered a bit far from the property, but hey. That gave you a pattern to put them down on, sort of.

The Shadow Keeper liked sticking close to your places that one would find you mostly in like your bedroom and the current room you’re in present time. The Emissaries Imperatus liked being in areas where there was… knowledge? Like again, the current room you’re in: the office-like library. Aquilan Shield liked to try and follow you around, no matter if it was a singular step for him to do so, or if your family was near. (That always ended up in some sort of disaster.) The Dreaded Host? He was a bit more tricky one, but you mostly see him placing himself where the highest… damage could be done, verbal or not, and the Solar Watch? He is like the wanderer of the outskirts. Always keeping an eye on what comes in and what goes. So, you had no doubt that he had saw you leaving the property this morning. It was hard to avoid their watchful eyes, but you have ignored them long enough to not care too much. They at least don’t snitch on you. Well, as far as you know. You feel like they snitch on you to each other when you’re out of your… “boundaries.” Something that seemed unusual of you to do. That Aquilan Shield always seeming to know where to go to find you; scaring some Astartes and humans alike around you away, and that annoys you to no end. You have business: work to attend to. You know not to rely on your failing father.

Besides that, you have gone out into the world. Walking out onto the paved driveway with a few cars like a black BMW, deep red Ferrari and a couple more expensive cars sitting out in the driveway that belonged to your father and some annoying partygoers. Your form simply walking past the (rather unimpressive) cars and walking down the mile long driveway with just a landscape of fresh cut lawn. The lawnmower hire coming in the early mornings to finish the job they do rather good at for getting paid practically nothing. You feel bad for them, and sometimes even pay the man personally for his hard work which in return you get a praise from him. “You’re too kind.” He would say, and for some reason, that clenches at your heart. Were you really kind or were you just… masked sympathetic?

You shake your head in that moment of time, dismissing the thought quickly. Your form taking the sidewalk at the end of the driveway. Doing your duties that you set upon yourself like: picking up some lunch, checking up on Eden at a public school with said lunch and just do some personal things that you thought that was well earned of you. Indulging into things that could give you a bit more of a fraction of happiness into your soul. It wouldn’t be a whole lot as you could regret such a purchase later, but it was something, right? To at least feel something of what you could call your own?

You jump softly as you feel something wraps around your waist, snapping you quickly out of your thoughts of the day. Your heart jumping up in your own chest as you glance up and behind you while you get pulled back into a cold material, getting an eyeful of a glaring gold in your vision. Your face giving a wince at the bit of the contact, not at all used to it. Your form tensing up and twitching slightly as if expecting to be hit or on uncomfortable and/or uncommon grounds.

“You are injured, little one.” The golden knight rumbles down into the top of your head, his helmet blocking the breath that would have ruffled your hair. His body having to curl around you and kind of fit you underneath him like a puzzle piece. It was… it was strange, something you never experienced to much of. Was it a hug? Was he trapping you? Was he trapping you then going to throw you off a cliff? It just all felt… uncomfortable. You don’t think you would allow such… actions, but again, you’re forced to test even your own boundaries. You don’t like it. “Why?”

You don’t answer him, you never have. Why should you now? All just because he was claiming; assuming you to be injured? Why can’t they just back off for once? Why can’t anyone? Why do people have to be such drama seekers? Why can’t they just leave you alone? Stop calling you names-

“Little one.” He sighs and you inhale through your teeth. A sharp sting shooting up through your nerves, causing you to wince and twitch away again. Trying to get away from his prodding touch. It was gentle, but not gentle enough to your mind. Your body spinning around; quick to stick something into the Custodies gorget.

A dull sound rings out then just the sound of your breathing is heard as he lets go of you rather slowly, unaffected. Leaning back up again to his full height. Your own heart giving quick, rhythmic beats into your own ears as you back away from the Custodies immediately. Your feet heading for the closest exit. A low, repetitive-like zap barely just being heard over your own heart.

You watch with panicking eyes as the Custodies slowly rises his gauntlet up once more, towards his gorget. Seemingly… not surprised by what you have stuck him with. Simply pulling out the taser you kept on you for defense for all types, but clearly it didn’t work for the armored beings…Though, you should have expected that with a logical mind. His visor dulling, looking down at you as if you’re some piece of meat. “…I see, little one.”

You’re not sure if you should be running for your life now or just keep still like a deer in headlights. Perhaps even hide yourself in your own room until you starve within it by yourself. You’re unsure of what these beings would do to you after you ruined a chip of their precious armor. They were always unpredictable. You can’t find anything on them, and that unknown scares you.

“…We accept your proposition.” He speaks again, making you shift in your spot with unease as he crushed your defense object with undeniable deftness. The hairs all over your body going up. Not at all soothed by his words. “However, we would like to make one as well.”

You narrow your eyes at him, and you know full well that you shouldn’t. Not after sticking a god damn taser into a piece of his armor just a few minutes ago. Sure, you had the stoicism against your family, against the world, but them? Golden beings of the unknown? Your own feelings, your own personal boundaries don’t stand a chance. All the more reason to be untrusting of what they were about to propose to you as well.

“Allow the Shadow Keeper: Celsus Varon into your personal quarters.”

You and your own heart pause, a bit surprised at that request and incredibly stressed by it. You didn’t allow anyone in your personal- er bedroom. Not even a maid. The closest anyone has gotten was just standing right outside of it. You hated to think anyone would barge right in a take anything they wanted from you, not that one had tired yet, thankfully. They think you’re poor: a maid. Yet, what would an custodies need from you that would be in your room? Why would they want to be in your room at all?

A heavy sigh escapes you. Out of trying to calm yourself and at the situation that you put yourself in. You mind trying to think through the mental panic attack that you were having. Trying to get the pros and the cons of this… and well? There wasn’t much, but you wish there was. You wish there was something that you could pin these being down with, but they prove to be innocent until proven guilty.

You nod very slowly, very hesitant to even accept such demand in order for your own to be fulfilled before instantly heading for the exit of the room, nearly running into the damned Shadow Keeper as you quickly turn away from him too. Not wanting to be in a room with that custodies any longer, or with any custodies for that matter. You can handle Astartes, but you can’t stand a custodes.

God, you need to move out. Get a place to yourself. Maybe that would take the custodies off your back? Take everyone off your back? To be in your own world that others don’t have to worry about you? That sounds so pleasing, but atlas. The world, fate- whatever it is likes to keep playing its own, cruel game to play with your own life.

[ma1dmer]

Warhammer - Tyrith Shiva Kyrus NSFW

no this isn't lore accurate, no i don't care, fight with my left tit, i have paid my dues to the warhammer fandom, this is my turn to have fun, anyways all hot girlies write warhammer smut and ignore canon....

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): before she shuts the doors to her quarters, she'll always tell a serf at around what time they should bring in food and water for you, it's always embarrassing because you get to hear for how long exactly she plans to ravage you for, she always gets you both to finish multiple times five minutes before the serfs come in. she is very precise with her time, she doesn't even need a clock to keep track of that.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): as a custodian she is extremely proud of her body, crafted by the emperor's own flesh and blood. as such, a bit of body worship goes a long way for her, trail your lips gently down from her neck to the middle of her breasts to her abs and then down to her legs until you are kneeling in front of her with your forehead pressed to her feet, it's the fastest way to get her to fold you in half, it might be a bit heretical, but nobody would dare ask or question her as to what exactly happens behind closed doors.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): she likes the mess, she doesn't care about getting it on herself, but she isn't shy about getting it everywhere else, letting any serfs, coming in to clean after you two are done, see your spent all over her sheets/floor, she might chastise you for making more work for the poor serfs but she is a bit too smug about it to truly make you feel bad.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): she loves the size difference, she loves having her strap/toys match her size, of course she doesn't push you to take her right away and trust you WILL be taking her. this is why it's so convenient to have only one partner for a long time, so she can slowly mold you to her needs wreck you for anyone else, she starts off with her fingers and mouth and simply grinding herself against you, her cunt against yours/using your cock ,then bit by bit she starts bringing in bigger and bigger toys crafted for you specifically, until she finally brings the one that is proportionate to the rest of her body.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): a few flings here and there throughout the millennia, but they never lasted long and they were always more of a sort of exploration, a learning opportunity rather than just fumbling to satisfy her baser urges.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): she likes to keep you pressed down or against her, she takes full advantage of her strength and size to keep you pinned or held up, she doesn't like when you move around too much, it distracts her from her goal of getting you to cum as many times as possible before you pass out. she also loves mirrors, loves watching both of your reflections as she takes you apart.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): just like with everything else she takes her duty very seriously, even something like this, she doesn't want you to feel intimidated by her, not when you let yourself be so vulnerable and place your trust on her like that, but she just can't help it, the way she stares at you, practically devouring you with her eyes makes you feel as if she might actually do it, it's extremely intimidating.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): it's fine and fair and soft, she doesn't do anything to it. she ,like most of the emperor's creations, always carries a sort of artificial scent mixed in with her natural musk, unlike space marines, custodes represent the emperor directly so she doesn't neglect her hygiene. she always makes sure to come to you already washed up, especially after a battle.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): romance isn't exactly in her code, but she is very passionate, she can make you feel as if you are the only person in the world just by the way she treats you, she'll open doors for you, she'll guide you by the small of your back, she'll gently unwrap you like a gift, she'll focus her entire attention on you rather than simply chase her own pleasure through your body. she is also very touchy, she holds you close, always pulling your hands or legs to wrap around her in some way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): she doesn't really feel the need for it, she doesn't get the point of it, it doesn't satisfy her, not like taking you does and she'll scoff at the idea of you giving her a show, she brings you to her bedroom to touch you, if she wanted to just watch something she'd watch a holodrama.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): body worship, slight exhibitionism etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): preferably back in the imperial palace, in her personal quarters, where she can keep an eye out in case she is called for duty, her bedroom isn't the most luxurious place, she doesn't get to use it often enough to warrant having anything other than the bare necessities ,but the bed is big and comfortable enough and the serfs know to mind their business when she brings you around.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): she definitely has a thing for you submitting to her, she gives orders and she expects you to follow them, be in her room in 30 minutes, wait for her on the bed ,leave your clothes on, wear that perfume/outfit etc etc, she is very satisfied when you fully follow her instructions, it makes her want to reward you for being so obedient. she is a woman used to always having her orders followed and that doesn't change in the bedroom.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): she is a very stubborn woman, it is very often you get told no, it doesn't even have to be something specific, sometimes it might just be your tone that makes her shut you down.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): she can spend hours between your legs coaxing orgasm after orgasm from you simply with her mouth, her tongue buried inside of you/taking you into her mouth ,she has amazing breath control and isn't shy about flipping you on your stomach to explore other parts of your body equally as thoroughly. she gets almost annoyed if you try to pull her away, she doesn't even need the favour returned simply lie back and let her do her thing.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): she is like a machine, she doesn't falter , doesn't change her pace its almost overwhelming, she loves overstimulating you, you'll be gasping shaking beneath her and she'll tell you to just keep taking her, give her another one,she knows your body, she knows how much you can handle and she knows you haven't reached your limit just yet.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): they just aren't practical, she doesn't like them, simply getting in and out of her armor and bodyglove is a whole process, she would much rather make a day of it rather than rush it like a fumbling teen, she wants to take you out for a walk, listen about your day and then take you to her bed, you can usually tell what she has planned from the fact she has forgone armouring up and told the serfs around what time they can come clean up the next day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): not really, again following up with what we said above she is very stubborn and knows what she is into, hearing no from her is more common than hearing her say yes, she does want you to come with your own ideas if anything just to learn more about you and she is willing to indulge the safer requests of the bunch, but she isn't sharing you, she isn't taking you outside her bedchamber, she isn't doing any weird roleplay for you etc etc

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): she is not human, she does not tire like you do ,she is always aware of how much quicker you get tired than her and tends to push for you to keep going, never past what she knows are your true limits.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): huge space strap, i think i hauev covid

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): she is very blunt and straight forward, she doesn't like playing games like that, but she loves to hear you beg her for mercy, it gives her the same satisfaction as besting a foe in battle.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): she grunts and groans and sounds almost angry whenever she cums.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): she loves having her hair pulled, i feel like she usually simply shaves it for convenience, she only tends to grow it out a bit, like we saw in the episode, if she is seeing someone, just to give them something to grab onto. she also loves when you try leaving marks on her, they never last long enough to enjoy the sight of them on her body, but that's part of why she enjoys them, drag your nails down her shoulders or down her back or on her forearms and watch her stare at her reflection in the mirror as they heal up.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): all such feelings are kept firmly under wrap, her duty comes first before everything else, that doesn't mean she doesn't let herself indulge every so often, she is fond of the way her mind drifts off to thoughts of you when she wanders the halls of the imperial palace or in between missions, you are a welcome distraction, another reminder as to what she has pledged her life to protect.

she knows its not feasible but in these cases she often thinks about how she wishes she could keep you in her quarters, waiting for her in the imperial palace, she knows you have your own life, your own duties and such. in another life she would perhaps love to be a provider for you, you her pretty little partner simply waiting for her to come back.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): she is a light sleeper and can fall asleep at will, especially considering the fact she probably doesn't need a lot of it like normal humans do. at the start of your relationship she waits for you to fall asleep before she let's herself drift off, but as the two of you draw closer she learns to let go a bit, she starts pretending more and more that she doesn't feel you move around when you wake up, just to get an extra few minutes of just having you in her arms.

[ms--lobotomy]

Let my gay (technically pan) little ass write my first f/f fic. Please. I want to kiss another woman (Edit: it ended up being gn/f so good news men/nonbinary people!)

Summary: You and Kesh spend a moment together before the next Blood Game.

Content Warnings: Putting a few headcanons on her because she was JUST introduced, also a bit short (I'm probably the only one bothered by this tbh)

Image Credit: @squishyowl

You always knew when she was going to attempt another Blood Game. You'd never tell a soul. It wasn't exactly like you could, having been evacuated to the lowest reaches of the planet. It was dimly lit; not much power was diverted to the room. It wasn't a cage, per se, but it was stifling enough that it may as well have been.

Her helmet was off, her war-torn, scarred face uncharacteristically soft when she looked at you. The light hit her, illuminating her face and her armor. Some scars cut deep enough for slight shadows to occur, and her long hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. After a moment of silence, she knelt before you, still the taller one.

She took your chin in her hand and leaned down, putting her lips on yours. Your face went warm before you melted into the kiss, your hands trailing over the ridges on her armor. You stayed like that for a few moments, taking each other in. She was the first to pull back, her hand trailing down to your waist.

"How long are you going to be gone, Cal?" you asked, grasping for her other hand.

She squeezed your hand at the mention of her name. You felt the armor dig into your much more malleable skin. Normally it was a slight irritant, but you knew that you were going to miss this feeling soon enough.

"Who knows?" she asked. "These things get longer every time, I swear. It's like they know I'm up to something every time I go down here." She ran her thumb up and down the little part of your hand that it could reach, and you gave her hand a little squeeze back.

You sighed. "Yeah..." you trailed off. You desperately wanted to say more, but you felt a lump growing in your throat. "I just... I guess I just wanted to say that I'm going to miss you. A lot."

You felt your face grow warm again as Calladayce let out a little laugh. "Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it." She took your hand and pressed it to her lips.

"But it was so long last time," you said, looking down and away from her.

You felt her hand trail off of your waist and turn your head back towards her. The gold-coated armor was warm against your cheek, softly pressing into you. You felt your heart flutter in your chest. You knew you weren't going to be alone in the bunker; there was a myriad of other people in there, mainly others on the planet close to Calladayce. But damn, you were going to miss her.

"Before you know it," she repeated. You melted into her hand, closing your eyes.

"And if you don't make it...?"

She laughed again. "I'll get Him this time, for sure."

She got up, towering above you. She ruffled your hair a little bit, running her hands through it before leaving it messier than she found it. She grabbed for her weapon by the door, a halberd-like polearm. You couldn't begin to understand how she could use it against a long-range weapon, but she was the superhuman and you weren't. She grabbed her helmet and put it on. Sometimes, you said it looked like a banana. You couldn't bring yourself to say so now.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, despite everything. Right before she exited the door, you felt yourself opening your mouth.

"Go get Him, Cal."

[shattereality]

THE LIGHTBEARER & THE CUSTODIAN

featuring maximum grandiosity, maximum pomp, maximum Custodian disdain. I've been wanting to write a story that took place in Holy Terra and with a Custodian <3 TW: none, canon-divergent!!

Chapter 1: The Gilded Halls of Terra

They called you Project Solis Invicta — The Unconquered Sun.

An artifact of ambition birthed in the shadowy halls of the Ordo Redactus, a lesser-known but ruthlessly effective arm of the Inquisition specializing in information control and experimental ‘assets.’

You were their crowning jewel: a being of flesh and fire, designed to burn the enemies of Mankind to ash and blind the unclean with holy light.

You donned a light beige and gold layered dress and a cloak, showcasing intricate details, featuring multiple layers of frills, lace and embroidery patterns with intricate lace. Your hair was styled in a gentle fashion.

Now, you strode the halls of Holy Terra with elegance and grace — a living weapon paraded before nobles and high lords like a prized beast.

Escorted by a full entourage — handlers in sleek, black carapace armor, psykers to monitor your mind, tech-adepts to adjust the intricate Inhibitor Bands locked around your wrists, throat and ankles — you entered the Grand Forum of the Eternity Gate.

Gold and marble stretched higher than the eye could see. Statues of heroes long dead loomed overhead. The air was heavy with incense and the prayers of millions.

And you basked in it.

Heads turned. Murmurs rippled across the marble floors like waves. “The Being of Fire,” they whispered. “The Starborn.” You smirked at the awe-struck faces, walking with a gait that was all elegance and power.

Good, you thought. They know their better when they see me.

At the heart of the Forum, a space had been cleared for your Demonstration. Thrones of gold and silver rose in tiers around it, seating Lords of Terra, High Ecclesiarchs and even lesser scions of noble bloodlines. All here to witness.

At a signal from your Primaris Handler, you stepped forward, removing the white cloak draped over your shoulders. The inhibitors blinked softly, holding your powers in check but with permission granted, you flexed your fingers—and the air itself shimmered.

A burst of golden fire roared around you, forming a radiant corona that cast dancing shadows across the stunned faces of the onlookers.

Your body lifted from the ground, your form outlined in searing white light. Trails of flame followed every movement, coiling like living things.

You painted the air with ribbons of incandescent energy, creating shapes — a soaring eagle, a burning sword — all with effortless grace.

The crowd gasped. Applauded.

As they should.

Hidden among the towering pillars, however, another figure watched.

Tall beyond mortal comprehension, clad in armor the color of the sun at zenith, the Custodian moved with silent precision. A walking god amongst men — a true son of the Emperor.

His name was Alektus Varian and he had seen wonders and horrors beyond mortal reckoning.

He did not clap.

He observed.

An experiment. An entertainment. A potential threat.

To him, it mattered little how dazzling your flames appeared. Everything that walked Terra must be judged, measured and found worthy — or eliminated.

When the demonstration ended, the crowds dispersing, your handlers led you toward a grand audience hall. That was when he stepped forward, barring their path with nothing but the presence of his golden bulk.

“You,” he said, voice like the grinding of ancient stone, “are summoned.”

You arched a brow, indignant that he spoke to you as though you were some servant girl. No bow. No honorific. No declaration of reverence for your divinity.

“Summoned?” you drawled, crossing your arms. “Are you to command me?”

Alektus Varian tilted his head slightly. “The Throne commands. I enforce.” he said. It was the first of many times you would clash with him.

Trial by Light

It was not an invitation that brought you to the arena beneath the Eternity Gate.

It was a summons.

Delivered with the cold precision only a Custodian could manage.

Still clad in your gleaming demonstration attire — a fitted, ivory-white suit woven with microscopic armor filaments, designed as much for aesthetics as it was for functionality — you entered the arena like a queen arriving at court.

Your handlers flanked you at a distance; the Custodes had insisted they remain behind the heavy adamantine doors once you crossed the threshold.

Only Alektus Varian awaited you, standing before a control terminal, his guardian spear held loosely at his side.

You tossed your shining hair back, adjusting the fall of it with meticulous care. Even you are, even now, you would not permit yourself to look anything less than divine.

The arena itself was a cavernous dome of shimmering black stone, etched with warding runes and reinforcement sigils.

In the center, already shifting into being, were simulacra — daemon forms conjured from hard-light and psychic constructs. They snarled and twisted, horned and winged, faceless horrors meant to emulate the terrors of the Warp.

A voice crackled over the vox.

“Demonstrate.”

You smiled, a dazzling, smug smile. Finally, an audience that matters.

The inhibitors around your wrists and ankles unlocked with a sharp hiss. Restraints fallen away, you could feel it: the energy welling up within your chest, heat roaring into your veins.

The light bloomed around your, a starborn corona that licked across the walls in wild, living arcs. The simulacra recoiled instinctively — or perhaps it was merely programming. You preferred to believe it was fear.

With an almost lazy flick of your wrist, you loosed a searing bolt of energy, vaporizing the first daemon in a blinding explosion of fire and sound. The impact resonated through the ground, making the Custodian’s armor glint with each shockwave.

More simulacra charged at you, blades and claws slashing.

You rose into the air effortlessly, white suit gleaming, trails of golden flame streaming from your hands and heels. Every movement was graceful, theatrical — you pirouetted through the air, laughing as you unleashed gouts of burning light in great, sweeping arcs.

For a moment, it was almost beautiful.

For a moment, you forgot you were being judged.

From his post, Alektus Varian watched, impassive as stone.

You were powerful.

Unquestionably so.

But power wasted on theatrics was not power fit for survival.

When the last simulacrum dissolved into nothingness, the arena fell silent but for the lingering crackle of scorched air.

You descended slowly, boots clicking against the black floor, breathing a little heavier but still radiant and composed.

“Well?” you said, flicking a glance at the Custodian, smiling sweetly, smug, expectant.

He regarded your for a long moment before speaking. “Impressive,” he said, voice grave, “for a performance.”

The smile froze on your lips. “Pardon?”

“You lack economy of motion,” Alektus continued, stepping closer with the relentless calm of an executioner. “You burn energy to no purpose. You waste time on displays that leave you exposed. Against true daemons, you would be torn apart before the second minute.”

You gaped at him, as though he had slapped you.

“No one else seems to have a complaint!” you snapped, tossing your hair back with exaggerated grace. “Perhaps you are simply blind to brilliance.”

He tilted his head slightly, unamused.

“Brilliance,” he said, “does not stop teeth from tearing through your throat.”

You huffed — an inelegant, utterly offended sound — and turned on your heel with a flare of light, storming toward the exit without waiting for dismissal.

Her quarters, at least, were a balm to your wounded pride.

Lavish by the standards of even noble scions, they were appointed with plush ivory couches, rich velvet drapes, a full-length mirror framed in gold and endless trays of exotic fruits and wines.

A wardrobe of pristine attire awaited you, custom-tailored to flatter your figure.

You collapsed onto the nearest fainting couch, face-first, groaning into a silk cushion.

“He’s impossible,” you muttered into the fabric. “Cold, joyless, walking statue of a man!”

You rolled onto your back, staring at the intricate frescoes of Terra's glory painted on the ceiling. The glow of your lingering energy cast strange shadows.

For a long while, you simply pouted, kicking your heels irritably against the couch. Sulking like a child denied a sweet.

Tomorrow, you would be summoned again. And the true trials would begin.

[thethronezone]

High Consort Pt. 3

Like mentioned in previous parts, you have a Custodi bodyguard. But you also have a whole guard of Custodes assigned to guard you, on orders of the Emperor of course. Your Custodi bodyguard just so happens to be the captain of this guard and the one that's always directly by your side. Because of this, you are quite close. So what if they work for your husband? So does every other bitch in the Imperium!

Whenever the Emperor leaves for the Great Crusade, it's up to you and Malcador to hold down the fort and make sure that everyone stay in line, both on Terra and beyond. You especially are seen as an extension of the Emperor and his will. This means a lot of public appearances on your part, with you flanked by your personal guard. Your presence reminds people that while the Emperor may be off planet and busy elsewhere, he is still aware of everything that's going on.

Because of this, you rarely leave Terra, or at least the star system. You might visit Luna or Mars every now and then but it's very rare that you venture to another part of the galaxy. You are needed where you are, providing a sense of stability in the heart of the Imperium.

Some people (mostly nobles) believe that, just cause you're not an incredibly buff, 4 meter tall, armored super-psyker that you are for some reason easier deal with, easier to push around. WRONG. You are both equally as terrible, sorry not sorry. The Emperor is unapproachable and straight up railroads every conversation while you just don't give a shit. You are older than most noble's bloodlines, at some point their rules just stop applying to you. The one big difference between you and Big E is that you at least try to act like a normal person, he doesn't, so people just find it easier to approach you.

There's also a belief that since you are HIGH Consort, that the Emperor is open to getting more consorts/concubines. At first this assumption was funny, the two of you had a good laugh about it. Then people kept trying to marry off their family members to him, accosting him at events, sending letters and some downright begging on their knees for him to accept one of their sons of daughters. Then only you were laughing. And Malcador, of course. He also found it all very funny.

Sometimes, when people want something from the Emperor or want to meet him, they try to get through you first. Butter you up so that you will put in a few good words for them to your husband. You might humor them for a short while, pretending to be as shallow as they appear to think you are, but the moment they no longer amuse you or step out of line you'll give your Custodi bodyguard a look that they know well. It means "I am tired of their chatter, remove them from my presence and if they ever try to approach me again, don't let them." You might be immortal but you won't waste your time on people you don't like.

A family can be a super-human psyker, his consort, their unmarried friend, their 10 000 strong personal army, their 20 18 super-human children and their respective super-soldier legions.

Half the Primarchs look at your and the Emperor's marriage and go "aww, so that's what true love looks like" and the other half goes "why haven't you DIVORCED this man yet?" Mortarion, Angron, and Perturabo full on believe you have Stockholm Syndrome or something.

Meanwhile, Lorgar, Horus and Lion think this is the perfect marriage, like, this is what everyone should strive for. Lorgar has written sermons about it and called it the "most divine and holy union in the galaxy". Would threaten to crucify himself if you and the Emperor ever separated. His legion would join him in solidarity. This is a hostage situation.

[thevoidscreams]

For your mating press march: Adeptus Custodes. That’s basically it. Let me be sandwiched and devoted to; make little children of gold. Please?

I imagine this must be ordained by the emperor.

Warnings: Arranged marriage (of a sort), Three way, making out, ball play, you get stuffed like a twinkie.

Word count: 3512

The custodes were only taken from the best houses of the best families on Terra. It had always been that way. They were expected to produce a child as a tithe and most families were glad to give a son or daughter even as soon as the day of birth. But it wasn't always feasible. Even the emperor knew this and thus had alternative options in place for such an event. That should a noble house die out, or be unable to give to the tithe, the still living sons or daughters of these houses that had joined the custodes would carry on the family line.

At least that was the explanation given to your mother and father as a ship arrived that day, unexpectedly and without any prior warning. They had a list of all the young noble women who could possibly handle the task of continuing the lines of not one, but two noble houses. Most women had been exempt on grounds of marriage or infertility or some other health related concern.

That left few to be considered, you were to be taken to the palace of Terra and endure the tests they had to run. Your parents didn't explain much when you returned home. Just telling you to be ready to leave. Not married and having no known prior health concerns you were taken that day with only enough time to gather a small handful of belongings.

It was a terrible shock but the crew sent to gather you, didn't seem to care. In their minds you should have been on your hands and knees, thanking them for giving you this honor.

After a long day of travel you were tired, you missed home and you just wanted to rest but as soon as the ship landed you were crammed into another transport that drove for several minutes before stopping again to deposit you into a facility where you were taken again with little explanation. The tests took hours and were beyond invasive. In all it left you very drained. But you kept your head up, you would not let these people see you bested.

After the tests they brought you into a smaller room. This one was much more comfortable. With a plate of finger foods to help stave off the gnawing in your belly.

A man in robes came in. He was full of augmetics and he had a data slate that he was reading from.

"Your tests have come back with sufficient perimeters. Word has been sent to your family. You are the only successful candidate. Which entails that you will stay here in the palace as such time as you have provided a suitable number of heirs." He spoke in a flat and monotone voice before leaving. "Sufficient? Heirs, plural? What does that mean?"

The door shut with a heavy thump and you were left alone again. What was happening?

An hour passed and the door slid open. A young woman in a serf's uniform came in with a big smile. It seemed forced. "Wow, you are a pretty one, and so lucky! Oh, where are my manners, my name is Jun, I'll be helping you get ready miss. There's a lot to do." Jun led you out and you pressed her for further details. "Where are we?" "Why, miss the holy palace of course." You left the smaller hall where the room had been and found yourself in a grander one. With ceilings so high you could have comfortably fit your whole house in there.

"I-I don't understand. Why am I here?" Jun looked back at you with wide eyes. "Was my lady not informed?" She pressed you more quickly into a hot steamy room, a bath, you quickly realized.

"No, my parents were talking to these people when I got home and then, I was just packed up and shipped off. I have no idea why I'm here."

Jun shook her head as she began to pull layers of clothes from you. "I'm to get you ready for the custodial guards ma'am." "The custodial guard!? But I'm not a warrior." You balked as she helped you step into the bath, giggling at your comment. "No, my lady you are for them. They require more, you are here to help two of the guardians produce heirs." The realization hit you like a warhammer. "I'm to be breeding stock?" "Why do you seem so down ma'am? It is a great honor. And you alone seemed to have met their impossibly high standards." No wonder your parents had shipped you off so quickly. If they hadn't they might have brought down the ire of the god emperor's guardians on them.

You allowed Jun to wash your body and hair, all the while she chirped about how beautiful you were and how lucky and what an honor you'd had bestowed upon you.

When she was done, she dried you off, and a few more women came in to help massage oils into your skin and comb and dry your hair, they had come with clothes of such elegant creation that it had made even your high end designs look like a ganger's rags.

You'd never looked more radiant. Your skin practically glowed and the women all gushed and pampered you. "To think, this will be your life from now on." The sentence didn't fully sink in. But you could surely get used to this. As a woman who looked a lot like Jun began to cut and shape your nails you felt your body relax. Hey, if it meant having some sex every once in a while you could do it if it entailed being treated like royalty.

At last you were ready, the women who had helped prep you brought you to another waiting room, leaving you with well wishes. A door on the other side of the room opened, a towering figure, clad in all gold stood a spear in one hand as the other raised to beckon you. You obeyed immediately, without much thought that you had done it.

"Are you the one I am to.." "No, they are waiting for you." The voice replied, from behind the grill of the helm it was hard to discern who or even what gender they are.

The walk was long and done silently the rest of the way. You had never seen such opulence. The building was like one giant art piece.

You saw more golden giants as you went. They did not move from their stations or even turn their heads. But you could tell that they followed you with their eyes. You weren't sure how.

The custodian sent to gather you stopped and you did as well. They gestured to the doors before you. They were tall and more broad.

"Well, um, thank you. Have a nice day." You mumbled a bit awkwardly to the custodian, who didn't respond and turned to leave.

The doors were unlocked as you pushed your way in. The room looked like the kind you'd seen before at your parent's fancy parties. The kind you usually didn't go into when not in use. With comfortable lounging furniture. A table of wines and refreshments was on the far wall. The only difference was the large bed that you could have laid across several times over. And of course the two towering men stood by the long table of food as you entered. They were handsome, beyond any man you'd ever met. Their faces were angular and symmetrical, one had long blond hair tied up into a bun and the other was black haired but both had similarly grey eyes. They more than met what you expected. In fact they far exceeded anything you could have dreamed of.

"You must be our bride then?" The dark haired custodian spoke. His voice had a rich quality to it, deep and velvety. But what he said had taken you by surprise. "Bride?" You asked.

"You are the woman who was brought to aid in maintaining our houses, are you not?" The blond asked, his voice wasn't as deep but it had warmth to it that his companion's did not.

"That is me, yes. I'm sorry you just referred to me as your bride so I was a bit confused."

"Well then I shall keep this simple for you." The dark haired custodian began. "You are the only candidate to make it here. The others were not up to the standards we require of all women or men who come to us for this express purpose. You have been informed of your duties I have no doubt. But there is more to it than just simple sex and reproduction. An heir cannot come from a broken home. So in accordance with the agreements set forth by the emperor and houses of old, all noble women who are brought to bear the children of a custodes must be wed to them legally."

Your head swam with the information. This was a lot more involved than you thought. "But there's only one of me. Who am I supposed to marry?"

The blond custodes stepped forward, having poured a glass of wine. He sat you on a lounger and gave you the glass. "That is what we will find out soon enough."

"I see. May I ask, what are your names?"

The dark haired custodian spoke first. "I am Zalkiel Tamit and this is Veran Tarcherus."

"It's very nice to meet you both." You smiled and gave them your name, even more nervous than you had been before.

They nodded. "Well met. You have nothing to fear from us, we are on orders not to hurt or kill you unless you attempt to harm us or attempt to escape."

"Oh! Well I wasn't planning on either of those things." You took a sip of the wine, it was sweet and you focused on the flavor instead of the nervousness you felt. "And when will we learn which of you I am to marry?" You asked quietly. "Whenever you are ready." Varen announced, he seemed surprisingly eager.

"Oh well, why wait then?" You finished your wine and set the glass on the small table next to the lounger. "Very well." Zalkiel nodded and began to pull the robes from his body, Varen did as well. You watched as their bodies, muscle bound and gargantuan were unveiled and your cheeks turned nearly as red as the wine as that included their manhood. Wow, they were tremendously nice to look at. And the thought of running your tongue over their bodies crossed your mind rather suddenly.

"Why are you still dressed?" Varen asked, as if he was genuinely perplexed. "Please inform me again how it is I will decide who I am to marry?" Zalkiel saw where your confusion stemmed from and he nodded. "We will both bed you. When you fall pregnant the one who has sired your child will be your husband." You gulped. Well there was no backing out of it. "I see. Well then." You stood and pulled the ties of your dress. It fell from you in a waterfall of fabric as you stepped out bare. Varen made a small noise of appreciation and stepped forward. His hands grasping your shoulders as he knelt down, his lips met yours and you were shocked that his first move was to kiss you, it was such a gentle and sweet gesture. You returned the kiss.

His hands traversed down your sides, more searching than anything else as if he was looking for something. Eventually he pulled away, seemingly satisfied.

Zalkiel's hands trailed up your back and you jumped, you hadn't even noticed that he'd moved. He scooped a hand down behind your knees and the other behind your shoulders. He lifted up and carried you to the bed.

Varen followed close behind. Zalkiel sat on the edge. Holding you tight against his chest as he angled you to face Varen. He took a knee again, but this time he wasn't looking for your mouth. He lowered his head down between your thighs and pressed his mouth softly to your lower lips. He kissed them softly, drawing a quiet moan from you. "She is quite reactive isn't she?" Zalkiel hummed. "My lips barely touched her." "Good, it means the fertility boosters have taken effect." "I'm sorry, the what?" You asked as Varen went back in for a proper taste. As he did Zalkiel tilted your face back to look up at him, his lips captured yours, tongue pressing in quite insistently as he began to make out with you. His calloused fingers brushed over your nipples making you hum into the kiss.

Varen had dug in, his mouth fully covering your soft mound, his tongue lapping up everything your body offered him. He could taste how fertile you were. Good timing, he thought to himself satisfied. He looked up to see his oldest friend had claimed your mouth. Zalkiel was like a brother to him. If there was anyone he'd trust to share a wife with it would be him. If all went well, their efforts combined with that of their master of genetics you could end up belonging to them both.

Varen felt the exact moment your body began to cum and he pulled away. You whined into Zalkiel's mouth, but he did not let your mouth go. Wanting to keep your mouth for himself for the moment. Varen grinned as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Despite being absorbed in the kiss you glanced at the blond custodes from the corner of your eye. His cock was nothing to sneeze at and you prepared for the burning you knew would come any moment now. But it never did, even as he pushed in, there was heat and immediate pleasure. You cried out against Zalkiel's lips. His arms barred around you and he laid back, Varen took your thighs in hand and began to thrust. You broke the kiss, mush to Zalkiel's displeasure and he expressed it by taking your shoulder into his mouth, he nipped hard enough to hurt but not enough to break the skin. Careful that he should not do any permanent damage. He pressed his face into your neck and growled. Varen was getting all of your attention now as he fucked you, all of your sweet noises were for him. Veran noticed the sour look on his friend's face and chuckled. He patted the dark haired custodian's arm twice and he let go of your body. Varen pulled out again right as you had been about to cum and you nearly swore at the giant for doing it. You didn't have time however as Varen flipped you like a pancake, putting you chest to chest with the scowling Zalkiel. Pushing back in Varen forced you forwards, Zalkiel took the opportunity to hold your chin again and bring you back into a smothering kiss. His mouth worked with yours as you took it from the behind from another custodes. His own cock had stirred from your ass pushing into it but no he had nothing to grind against. He however knew he could be patient. He would get his turn.

You however had noticed the stiff member between his legs and reached down for it. Zalkiel stiffened as he felt you grab it. Almost pulling your hand away, but he relaxed as the hand began to stroke. It wasn't nearly enough but Zalkiel liked the touches nonetheless. "She seems to like your mouth Zalkiel." Varen noted. Zalkiel hummed in response and opened his eyes to meet Varen's gaze. "What have you in mind?" He inquired, pulling away from the kiss just long enough to ask before returning his mouth to yours.

Varen motioned for him to move up the bed. Zalkiel didn't want to stop kissing you, but he humored Varen. He hauled himself up until you were between his legs. "Right there." Varen told him. He listened. "Now, why don't you have this good girl here put that mouth of hers to work elsewhere." You followed the line of logic, even if it felt like your brain had been being stirred up at the same time as your pussy. Taking hold of the cock in front of you, you kissed to tip, smearing his precum over your lips. Zalkiel watched as you licked it off, and his cock twitched in your hand at the sight. kissing his cock again, you pressed a line of them down the length, stopping only when you got to his balls. They were huge, at least from what minimal experience you had and you cupped one in your hand, one alone was enough to fill your palm. Furthermore it was heavy, very heavy. you kissed it and Zalkiel was left biting back a soft cry. He liked the way your mouth felt and in such a sensitive area, it was new to him. You kissed them again, taking both into your hands and giving them a gentle squeeze. His cock twitched and a fresh bead of precum gleamed at his tip. Giving them one last kiss, you begin to kiss your way back up, leaving a trail as you kiss and licks up the underside of his cock. Zalkiel reclined more, until you got to his tip, your lips sealed around it and you sucked, his hips jumped, forcing more of him into your mouth. You had an idea through the haze of sexual pleasure that Varen was bestowing upon you and gave his balls another squeeze. You were rewarded with a fresh slick of salty pre and you happily licked him clean, repeating the process several times. Zalkiel didn't know his mind was capable of feeling this fogged. And from the look he saw on Varen's face he knew he was experiencing the same thing.

Zalkiel could only imagine that if your mouth felt this good your pussy would be something else entirely.

Varen was finding it hard not to watch what you were doing to his best friend. Watching you work his cock he knew he needed to get some of that for himself. You leaned over you and began to drive his hips harder and his cock deeper. You seemed to loose all higher thought process as he fucked you through your first proper orgasm, then another as he growled down at you, pumping a fat load into your cervix and likely your womb.

He dismounted once he was done, allowing Valkiel to tug you up onto his lap. His cock was no less impressive and you gotta feel it first hand inside you. Zalkiel had been holding back the need to cum down your throat, even if he was tempted to he knew the most sperm would be in this first load and he needed to ensure he got as much into you as possible.

Varen settled next to the other custodes and watched him happily use your cunt to satisfy his needs. His hands had encircled your waist and you simply held on as he lifted your hips for you, and drew you back down. He grinned and gently touched your chin, when you looked over to the blond he captured your lips, kissing you deeply. You moaned and returned the kiss feverishly. As expected Zalkiel growled and pulled you away. He rolled your smaller frame under his so he fuck you and keep have more of your kisses as he plowed you into the sheets. Zalkiel hadn't known how long he would last but he felt like a man starved of something vital as his orgasm began to build again deep in his stomach. He wrapped his arms under you and held you to his chest.

He came with a groan, filling you up all the way. You laid under him, entirely stuffed and sleepy. Zalkiel rolled you onto your side and pulled you into his chest. Varen had gone and returned quickly. In his hand a plug to hold in the cum. Zalkiel helped lift your thigh and Varen slipped it in before pulling a blanket up over the three of you and settling in. You were fast asleep. "What do you think?" Zalkiel asked. "I like her, I did not think I would feel anything but a sense of obligation during this. But I believe I could be truly fond of this small woman." He brushed a bit of hair out of her face and Zalkiel nodded. "I am glad she passed inspections." He pressed a kiss to your temple and smiled. "As am I. We should let her sleep as long as her body needs." Zalkiel watched your peaceful expression with growing fondness. "Indeed, even if I am now eager," Agreed Varen, "we will get to know our wife over breakfast tomorrow."

You slept soundly as they kept watch, which was good, you would end up needing your energy for your new husbands in the morning.

[lemon-russ]

The sapphic spirit possesed me and I just can't stop thinking about big gold muscle mommies today. Inspired by? Learned about the idea of? Aquillian Shield Custodes from This post by @moodymisty which has been in my brain. Then I was like, gasp, it could be g a y. Going to be multi-part bc I can't seem to rush smut and need sapphic pining first I guess.

Thank you @squishyowl for the divider!

Tags: @bispecsual @ms--lobotomy

Emperor's Saint (Pt. 1)

Pt. 2

Fem!Custodes x Fem!Reader

CW: GAY, SUPER SAPPHIC GAY

Summary: A diplomat of the Ultramarines, you've been chosen to receive the protection of an Aquillian Shield. Congratulations! you do not have a choice :)

Word count: 1,994

She appeared out of nowhere while you were preparing to leave for a meeting one day.

Nearly as tall as a primarch, golden armor shining, carrying an intricately decorated spear. She told you she was your Aquilian sheild, and you have been deemed important enough to need guarding. She would not say how long, or what you were meant to do, only that she was going to be hanging around 24/7 watching you until you completed whatever you were meant to accomplish.

Lord Guilliman said it was an honor to have one of the Adeptus Custodes personally guard you, so you tried to go about business as usual.

Heraclast, as she introduced herself, became your constant companion. Constant.

“Hera…” you groan tiredly, sitting up in your bed. “Must you guard me from in here…?” You ask. She’s polishing her helmet, her chin length warm brown hair falling around her face on the side that wasn’t shaved short. She looks up at you, pursing her lips.

“Of course, my Lady. What if dangers came to you while you sleep and are most vulnerable?” She says.

You pout. “Don’t you sleep…?” You ask. She insisted on staying with you while you were on this new planet to have your meeting, but you can’t fall asleep with her watching you. It made you, well, shy. Having a nine foot tall goddess of a warrior watching you snore? Emperor forbid you talk in your sleep.

She shakes her head, “No, my Lady. I can go weeks or months without sleep and perform perfectly.” She says, going back to polishing her gleaming pointy helmet.

Great.

You sigh and lay down, starting at the ceiling. You glance back over at her, sitting on a bed that is straining under the weight of her armor. Her face has a long scar from chin to hairline, and her eyes are so green they are almost luminescent in the dimly lit room. Or maybe they are? Who knows, Custodes were an enigma. Hardly seen outside the Palace until Guilliman returned, and more rare to see out of helmet, let alone armor. Their genetic modifications were even more intricate than their Astartes cousins, so Emperor only knows if they actually have glow in the dark eyes to go with their stunningly perfect looks.

You turn your gaze back to the ceiling, trying to not get hypnotized by how her hands look carefully polishing the gold. You definitely should not be thinking about those hands anywhere else. Especially not on you. Or under your nightgown. Which you had to change into with her in the room, which did not help any of this.

“My Lady?” Heraclast asks, making you jump a little as you’re pulled from your thoughts. “Your face has become feverish. Are you ill? I can vox for the best apothecaries to be here in under an hour-” she offers.

“No!” You interupt, blushing more. “No- I’m fine, I’m not sick.” You say tiredly, covering your face with a pillow.

She is quiet a moment, then you hear her go back to polishing, the rhythmic sound acting like white noise and helping you relax slightly. You pull the pillow off your face, rolling on your side to face her, trying to not look like you’re staring.

She glances up again, brow knit. “…Would my Lady sleep better if I sat over there, facing away?” She asks.

You blush, but think about it. She at least wouldn’t be staring you down that way. You nod a little, and she smiles, pulling over stool and sitting back down in front of your bed, back to you. You relax a bit not being directly in her sight, and then try not to think about how close she now sits. You stare at her back, partially covered by the purple cape of an Aquillian Shield, and try not to imagine what she looks like under it.

You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the sound of her polishing, and eventually finally fall asleep.

The next morning you yawn, stretch, and then open your eyes and nearly jump out of bed. Heraclast looks up at you, confused. You look back at her, face burning red. She’s half armored, chest plate and shoulder armor removed and sitting sparkling and polished on the bed.

“My Lady? Are you well?” She asks, turning to you more and making you more flustered. She only has a tight wrap covering her chest, her sculpted abs and arms uncovered. You notice more than a few scars, one on the stomach looks like it was especially bothersome, but try and look away.

“I- I thought Custodes d-didn’t take their armor off-” you stammer out.

She tilts her head a little. “You are safe, my Lady, do not worry. I secured the area thoroughly before undressing, and only have been polishing a couple pieces at a time. Even without all my armor I am more than capable of protecting you-”

“Okay, Okay” you stop her, trying to look anywhere but at her tanned, toned abs, and why are they wet?? Her undercut was also damp, and in your desperate attempt to avoid her you see a wash bucket and cloth and realize she must have bathed. Which makes you even more flustered to imagine.

She frowns a bit, and your heart actually palpitates when you accidentally meet her emerald eyes again, full of concern now. She thankfully pulls on a tight silk shirt and starts re-fastening her chest armor.

“You really look unwell, my Lady. If you are feverish we should get you to the Apothecary.” She says, voice worried.

You frown, expression tight as you watch the way her arm muscles roll and flex as she lifts the heavy plates of armor and starts putting them back on. You swallow hard and will your breath to be even.

“I’m f-fine, really.” You say with a sigh, rubbing your hot face with your hands.

She looks unconvinced, but finishes armoring anyways. She steps into the next room briefly and brings you a wash tub, cloth, and soap. “Very well. I took the liberty of fetching you some cleaning supplies when I got my own.” She says with a smile, walking back to the other bed and sitting on it with a creak.

You frown, looking between the bucket and Heraclast. She looks unperturbed.

“Hera, I can’t wash with you looking at me.” You squeak out.

She frowns. “Why not?” She asks, looking genuinely confused. You frown deeper.

She scrunches her brow and purses her lips. “…Very well, I shall turn away if that helps you, my Lady.” She says, sounding confused but turning to the wall anyways.

Throne damned Custodes, haven’t been outside a palace in 10,000 years and forgot about things like human shame about naked bodies. Or maybe that is just something that was erased with their transformations. You sigh and start undressing as little as possible while still being able to wash.

After a minute Heraclast speaks up again, “Oh, today you have that meeting, yes? Shall I help you with your hair? I am quite skilled at braids from helping the other Custodians-” she says happily, turning a bit to look at you.

You yelp and cover your chest. She frowns and turns back. “Ah, yes, apologies.” She says, scratching her hair. “It is nudity you don’t want me to see, then? I will try and keep that in mind, though I don’t understand why you would hide the majesty of the human form-”

”Hera please” you groan, going back to washing.

She lets out a small “hmph.” But continues looking at the wall.

You sigh and finish up, washing as quickly as you can, then kneel down to wash your hair. “You can look now…” you grumble, dipping your hair forward in the bucket and scrubbing.

She happily turns back to you. “As I was saying, I am very good at intricate braids, If you would like. Many of my battle siblings keep long hair and braid it into crowns.” She says, moving to a stool near you to sit closer.

You glance up at her, smiling down at you, sun from the window sparkling off the intricate jewels and filigree on her armor. She looks so excited to help. You gulp.

“…Sure, why not.” You relent, rinsing your hair.

She beams, pulling her stool over to you and grabbing a towel and hairbrush from nearby. “Excellent, I think you shall make a grand impression on these important nobles with your hair orderly.” She says in a chipper tone.

She picks you up under the arms, making you squeak in surprise, and plops you on a pillow on the ground in front of her facing away, between her legs. Your face grows warm again as she starts to towel off your hair for you, humming happily. *By the throne you weigh nothing to her, she just picked you up like a stuffed animal*- No, don’t think about how easily she can toss you around, stop getting flustered, you chide yourself.

She starts carefully but efficiently detangling and brushing your hair, the feeling of the brush on your scalp and her playing with your hair sending a shiver down your spine.

“Hmph. Now you have chills to go with your fever.” She says with concern. “It is alright if you need to rest today, my Lady, I will not allow them to give you trouble about it.”

You try and focus hard on a plant across the room, “I’m fine.” You force out as she starts running her un-gauntleted fingers over your scalp, catching locks of hair and gently tugging them into braids.

She hums another unconvinced noise but doesn’t press you farther. She is quick with her braiding, fingers grazing your neck and shoulders as she works, the gentle touches making you get goosebumps. You start counting the leaves on the plant to occupy your mind and not just melt into a puddle on the floor.

“You have very well kept hair, my Lady. I’ve never been one to keep it long myself, gets in the way of my helmet, but I appreciate my Custodes siblings who do keep long hair. I’ve always admired the look of it on others.” She chatted happily.

You bite your lip. She likes long hair on others? She likes your hair? Does she think you’re- No, stop being ridiculous, you’re pretty sure Custodes can’t even feel attraction. Probably. If they did, they have all the other Custodes to be attracted to anyway, literally the most beautiful of humanity regardless of gender.

She runs her hands over your hair again before patting your shoulder and making a satisfied hmph. “There, all done.” She said, handing you a mirror.

You take it and your eyes go wide. She’s given you perfectly smooth, intricate braids forming a crown around your head, one even making a little flower shape over your ear, and the rest of your hair free and down, neatly brushed to not have a hair out of place.

“Wow.” You say, looking at her in the mirror as she smiles down over your head. “This is amazing, Hera.” You say, smiling at her reflection.

She beams proudly. “I am glad you enjoy it. Come, you should dress, your gowns have many complex layers.” She says, patting your shoulder again before she stands. “I must go do my bi-hourly parimeter scan, I expect to be finished in 6 and a half minutes. I know you dislike being seen unclothed, so you have that time to dress to a comfortable level.” She says, donning her helmet and picking up her spear.

You blink in surprise as she walks out, then scramble to start getting dressed.

[remembrancersticky]

So anyway, I really like @moodymisty's custodes oc Valerius Caledon

[kit-williams]

Aquilian Shield

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon and special thanks to @the-californicationist for pushing me into the brain worms

Hercules looks down at his charge... such a pretty little thing that he was only going to keep back and stay far from... but only when a traitor got too close and nearly ended her with a bayonet strike caused him to finally act. He knelt down as she looked at him with wide eyes knowing some mortals preferred a noble savior... "Be not afraid... I have been sent by the Emperor to safeguard you as you have been divined to doing a great deed in service to the golden throne." He says just seeing her sitting there on the ground with her mouth opened wide still just gaping in awe.

He smiled under his helmet as a finger came under her jaw and gently closed it, "I see that my presence has caused you to lose your faculties." He said with a chuckle. He watches her try to say something but she just blinks and falls onto her back making the sign of the aqulia to him. Again he laughs softly at her antics... something that he has done often in her presence since revealing himself to her.

Hercules was one of the far more gregarious Custodes as he enjoyed the company of mortals and could actually interact with them even when he was "on duty". Which is how it came to be known that Hercules was such a bad influence on his charge as his large palm caressed her face... "I can smell you..."

The blush on her face as she tries to stop... but Hercules takes off his helmet as his short brown hair and glittering emerald eyes look down at her... she could see the freckles across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks that have smile lines on them. "Oh don't apologize my little charge... " He practically purrs as the smoldering look he gives to her goes straight between her legs. He kneels down and whispers to her softly, "Though... you might not be able to walk tomorrow if you do want me to..." He clicks his tongue in a cheeky manner, "indulge." He says with a voice laced like sin.

She whimpers and his eyes glitter in delight as he, like his master, loves humanity. They are special creatures... of course they need to be guided in the right direction... his mouth pushes against hers and she melts to his touch. Oh yes you will keep living after your use is up. He thinks as he pushes her onto her back... he will have to work her up to taking him... but oh... oh she is eager.

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

“I just changed the titles. The first one is a prologue. This is more set in the future, but that should be clear with how the chapter changes? I mean, last one is prologue. Here’s an continuation after about a year.😭” - Ichor

Summary - “Simply walking the halls of a defective mansion. You are suddenly met with new things.”

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

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

TW // Neglect, Predator.

|°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Prologue} • {Chapter II}

Your hands are behind your back as you walk straight down one of the mansions corridors. A gleaming white tile glaring at you each time you pass and wide window that brings in a reflective glare of the sun into the home. Something you honestly hate of this modern mansion. Too much white for your tastes, and well the people that lived inside of it, but that couldn’t be clear enough already. Yet, your not one to purely judge people and nature itself- Well… unless those Golden Knights count as something… unnatural.

Its weird though, you have never really addressed them as their original titles: Adeptus Custodes or just Custodes in short. You have just been mentally calling them “Golden Knights.” Your pretty sure it was because you practically grew up under their eyes, and your younger, innocent self couldn’t fathom nor pronounce Adeptus Custodies. So your little mind settled on what was closer: Golden Knights. Knights also had happened to one of the things you admired then and well now. Admittedly, you like to think of a more… characteristic knight now since you figured out how exactly knights where back in the 12th century. It was a very stark contrast between a little fairytale and the real thing. All the more reason to avoid the Golden Knights though. You’re not sure how they act besides being annoying statues, and trying to follow you are despite your inner turmoil.

Maybe you should just settle for a War World II soldier instead? At least they cared for their nurses… Well, in the movies they did. You didn’t have enough information in written history to claim such. Maybe that is something you could figure out in the time being? Learn a bit more about War World II? You know you have heard of the Astarte's being first sighted there… Maybe that will allow you to get more information on the Golden Knights in your home er- household? No, those words don’t seem right to call this false security of a home…

You pause in your steps; in the middle of the hallway. Your head slightly down as you eye the shiny tile. Your mind in a sudden deep thought. What would you even call this household? Certainly not the Last name of the family, the blood is too mixed and… judging. You felt like they didn’t even deserve the honor of a last name. So, what would you call this… corruption?

‘Dysfunctional? Toxic? Tumultuous? Unstable?’ You almost amuse yourself with those definition's.

“Auntie?” A little, childish voice brings you out of your thoughts. Blinking, your back straightens up a bit again at your other- rather only friendly title you’ve been called here. Eyes flickering down to a little girl behind you, no more than 4 years old. Her wavy, strawberry hair stopping at just her shoulders; her sea green eyes innocent of youth. “Little Eden” you like to call her- mentally. Selectively mute you chosen to be. If you can’t talk in the home; voice your opinion's… Why bother talking at all?

You remember the first time you had met little Eden though. How her little fingers, grasped around your pointer finger while she tried to eat at her other hand, slobbering all over it. Her little cheeks chubby with cute fat, and her eyes a bit puffy with the cry’s for attention she desperately needed. Yet, she seemed to calm at your mere presence. Quieting down to soft sounds of nibbles. A few gnawing “yah, yah, yahs” leaving her. It would have been cute sight if it weren’t for the thought of the whys and hows she was crying for attention in the first place.

You were simply wandering the night halls of the mansion again. A routine you usually do to keep yourself and other things in check. Another party being hosted by your father as the walls thrum with vibrations, and through all that noise? You can hear a faint cry of displeasure. A cry of a newborn that you knew that was, and had come into the world, but just was never allowed to the hospital to see the brith of the new addition. So, you had to settle on patiently waiting for the time you would be able to see her without the foul glares and words of the family that might change her perspective of you at day one. It just… wasn’t a risk you were willing to take just to see someone new, but that wasn’t the thing you were most worried about. It was how the child was crying their heart out, wanting, seeking, needing attention. Their parent no where in sight, no doubt joining that damn party, and you’re not sure what scares you. The child’s obvious neglect or how you feel like you would be another failure to someone else. Even if they weren’t supposed to rely on you.

You sigh out, trying to calm your thoughts before your body would start to shake in anxiety. A hum leaving you to acknowledge the little one behind you. Your body turning a bit to give her your attention. Her eyes brightening up at your simple movements after she rubbed her eyes with her palms. Your eyes flickering to the shimmer of gold behind her, ignoring the… What was he again? A Shadow Keeper? Did she just wake up from a nap?

“Hi, auntie!” She greets you again, bounding up to you on her little legs. Her hands coming out to grasp at your pants. A huge smile on her face, and you’re not sure of what to make of it. No one has ever smiled so brightly at you before. Your brain thinks “logically;” to protect yourself, even from a child, thinking this was a trick. While your heart craves for such actions. Yet, you know better to have your heart to lead you, but it doesn’t mean you would neglect anything- anyone that would show you a smidge of kindness in this chaotic world.

Your eyes flicker over to the Shadow Keeper again. His form slow, basking in the shadows that a part of their armor seamlessly absorbs. His red visor softly glowing, even in the brightest areas, and it never fails to pull a shiver down your spine. These beings were so unnerving, but they have shown nothing to… oppose that. Opposite, really? You think? The people just somehow accept these… things that just appear out of no where, didn’t they think that was a bit suspicious? You weren’t at all judgmental of them nor combatant of them. You just wanted to know their origin, their purpose. Everything has it purpose you believe, but you can’t find anything to support your own ideals of them. Not even with the normal Astarte's. You just find they are kind of like different species: Primaris Marines, first-born, Iron Warrior’s to Salamander's…

Ugh, thinking about them just hurts your brain, brings you a massive migraine. You’ve gotten a bloody nose out of it one time, and you really don’t want to experience that again. It was one of the worst ones that you had, and even that, was suspicious to you. It wasn’t hard to notice that something was at play here as a mute watcher. Yet, something stops you from thinking of such. You wonder if you can get your answers from an Alpha Legionnaire or a Thousand Son. You heard it was a bit risky to deal with the mysteries untold, but if you wanted answers…

“Auntie?” Eden calls for you again, a tone of worry, perhaps defensiveness in her voice. Her hands tugging up at you. Wanting your attention again. “Did Mr. Varon offend you? You stare at them quite a lot…”

‘What? ’ You think to yourself, blinking away from the Shadow Keeper; rising your brow as you look back down at the child. Ignoring your own hint of embarrassment that grows inside of you that you were just… staring at things. Though, who's Varon? Wait…

Your head moves back up to the Shadow Keeper, your eyes narrowing at him slightly, judging him. His helmet tilting a centimeter to his right. His visor flashing a bit brighter as if he was… amused. Never in your life have you made on effort to learn the first and last names of the Golden Knights. You didn’t want to, you wanted the favor of your supposed parents then, but now?

You shake your head, ridding of any thoughts that could be driven by your heart. Turning your head back down to the child that was trying to pull you along somewhere. Her hands tightly grasping at you, grunting in… cute effort to try and move you from your spot. A singular twitch of your lips frowning upward, being shown for the trained eye before quickly going stoic again and following where the child wanted you to be. The shadows’ following at a respective distance right after.

She leads you a bit through the mansion, as if she was checking it out with you. Her hand never leaving their spot on your pants to pull you along. Taking you around the kitchen, living room, the outer rim of the mansion before taking you back inside and pulling you up stairs that has a loft near the entry way of the mansion. An honestly good spot to spy on the new people that come and go, and you suppose its one of the things you and Eden like doing together. Sitting in each others presence and watch the drama unfold just at the entry of the mansion.

“Father! I got someone new I want you to meet!” Ah, and so the show begins. A male and feminine figure slamming the front door shut upon entering the mansion. A click of heels echoing through the area as Father and Mother appear from just down the hall. Mother appearing from the laundry room. Something you take note of quickly as her being in the laundry room was suspicious, she never- doesn’t do laundry. Father appeared somewhere further down the hall. The rest of the hallway unseeable with the second story room wall’s in the way, but you would have to guess it was from his office.

Mother, something you don’t even call her anymore nor Father, but she was a rather fine looking woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Good figure that would make her a model until you get to her shitty attitude. Most of the time she's a manipulator. Her tone untrue to others, including family. Seems like she just can’t stop being in a play. A fantasy she puts herself in. Something at least you can feel pity on her **for.

Father was all the dark a broody unless he was hosting his parties. Drinking away his worries. His dark eyes almost distant; black, slicked back hair seemingly always greasy now a days, but at least he occasionally shaved when a beard started to grow. That was something to show he wasn’t a complete failure. At least physically, emotionally? You, and only you knew he was drowning in silent debt. He should really consider rejecting some things… It will only be a matter of time before he breaks. You take a bet that he would even brake before your mother would.

“This is Linton Stokes.” Your stepsister, more like half-sister, but you don’t really even consider her blooded or even a sister. It’s another thing you think that many would need to earn the title of, but she introduces the new male next to her. Her arms wrapping around his neck while this “Linton Stokes” puts his hands on her waist. A sound of hushed disgust coming from the child besides you. “He’s my new boyfriend.”

‘What's the number now for that? The 12th one this year?’ You muse to yourself, shifting your weight as you lean up against the glass railing. That's also not even counting the past years she's had these flings of boyfriend's. Sometimes you feel bad for them because some of them seemed genuinely good material, only to be ruined by Lessas’ habits of being well…. a known whore, to put it boldly. Other times you can tell it was just a game to the men, and this male? Was going to be no different. You can just tell. It’s like a sixth sense.

“Oh! How exiting!” Mother gasps in fake excitement, but it has just enough training that it fools nearly everyone. Her hands clasping together. Her smile too bright, and the bright red lipstick she was wearing wasn’t helping her either. “What do you do, young man?”

“I, uh, I do business.” The guy retorts and immediately, you know that's a lie. If he was business he wouldn’t be dressed like a commoner. He would be more formal. Not only that, but he hesitated his words. He wasn’t confident in his position. So that's all the more reason to think that he was a liar or he just wasn’t doing well at his job that he was most definitely going to get fired sooner or later.

That, or you’re too judgmental.

“What type of business?” Father inquires, raising his brow. His fingers threading through his hair as he sighs out. Seemingly not in the mood to meet anyone else, unless of he was drinking of course. Friendly, deceiving person when drunk. Uncaring, tired man when sober. Pitiful, almost.

“Corporation, sir.” Linton speaks with manners but if he actually had any he wouldn’t be allowing himself the freedom of touching Lessa openly. He would have been respectful and shown promise in front of father, but you know the simple word: Corporation caught your father’s interest. His eyes regained a bit of light to them at the first syllable.

“Corporation, eh?” Father chuckles in a low tone, coming forward to remove Lessa from him and wrap his own arm around his shoulder. His daughter, not even of blood, pouting just a bit with a stomp of her black heels. “Say… I can teach you a thing or two? Hmm?”

“Mother!” Lessa huffs and puffs, never really liking the attention off of her. Another clicking stomp coming from her as she looks over to mother, expecting her to do something when another solid gold came into the room: Aquilan shield if you remember correctly of what type the Golden Knight was that has entered the entry way freely. His golden armor, and what you assume jewels imbedded in it having a bit of a reflex on the tile below. His figure more prominent in the tile reflection than anything else in the damn house. Probably the most expensive thing in the world too. It’s one of the few things why your father just… tolerates them because not only do they look intimidating, but your pretty sure there is dollar bills in your fathers eyes each time he glances over them.

Linton, probably and most likely has never seen an Custodies before, shivers in his spot. His adam apple signaling that he swallowed hard at the Aquilans’ sudden appearance, and man was it always amusing to see the new people crumble at just the sight of them. You had to at least give that to the Golden Knights. They were effective in chasing people off and keeping them off the property. Not they really intend to. It was just how they were built.

Yeah, built. You don’t believe these men or perhaps just things of armor: formed like golden bars were birthed like 1,000+ pounds at the getaway from a woman’s womb. They were definitely created in a lab unless they came from a line of giants or some mythical creature. Exaggerated? Maybe, but what else could you think of without getting a pounding headache that stops you from thinking further?

“Is…i-is that a Astarte's?” Is the first thing Linton says about them, and it’s almost a boring answer. Her eyes flickering over to father before looking back at the Aquilan with clear nervousness. His hands were shaking a little bit as he swallows again. It was a bit of a miracle that he hasn’t excused himself yet. It was a bit strange, but not everyone was the same. Maybe this guy has a bit of a back bone?

“No, that’s Atlas!” Eden speaks up right next to you. Her little mind not taking the disrespect for the Custodies, no matter if it was a simple question, and you… praise her for it, but did it have to be near you? You were just the playing object, perhaps a puppet in their eyes. Not even their child or sibling, just some random that lives in their house, eating their money, and you can just tell with how they look up to you with such disgust. It would sicken you, yourself if you weren’t used to it already.

“What are you doing out?” Your father more like comments up at you. His arm still wrapped around Lintons’ shoulders while they just seem to forget about the new Golden Knight in the room since they noticed you, and not in a good way as an uncomfortable silence stretches through out the area. Your mouth never opening to answer them. You never do as it would come with a cost of your own sanity. You just watch.

“Who is that, sir?” Linton speaks up with a slight waver in his tone. His brown eyes looking up at you in mild curiosity, and it leaves you skeptical. Your eyes tracking every movement that he does. Man should know what not to question around here. Especially with the attitude of your mother and Lessa. They do not do well with your mere presence or of an uttered word of/and/or about you.

“They are no one, honey!” Your mother grins too brightly, gaining the attention of the newcomer for a second and huff from her daughter: who smirks in response as if she won something she never even participated in. Her arms folding over her chest as she shoots a poor attempt of a sinister glare up to you.

‘Was that suppose to remove me from the plains of the Earth?’ You muse to yourself to keep your spirits up despite the prickling anxiety that feels like lightning was roaming across your back. Your form shifting your weight on one leg.

“Come, baby!” Lessa smiles too brightly as well, forcefully taking Linton back from her father, pulling at the mans’ clothes. Her tone so full of under toned venom, and she wasn't even hiding it. She never tries to. Probably one of the reasons she losses relationships so much…You honestly wonder how well she would do if she was paired up with a chaos Emperor Child? For you, you want it to be a form of punishment for her. You know that what you’re thinking of is… dark. You know the difference between chaos and a “holy” marine; have a slight concept of it, and by god you wished something akin to what was going through your mind happened to her. “Let me show you around my mansion!”

Your father face twitches at Lessas’ words, clearly taking in of how she says “my mansion.” Clearly displeased with her. Not only did she take away a potential victim of his… scam’s, but she was pulling a dominance card, and if you didn’t know any better yourself? Certain men don’t like that, like your father. It’s surprising he doesn’t do anything about it just yet. Most likely wanting to try and score some money off the “Linton Stokes” and spend it all in one go. That is if he was even a business man. This guy could be wanting to do the same to him.

“Hold on now,” Linton pauses their attempts to move him further down the mansion. His hands coming up to hold Lessas’ hands to try and stop her from dragging him. Lessas’ eyes giving him a glare that he simply ignores, looking back up at you. “I thought I was supposed to be meeting your whole family?”

‘Whole family, huh?’ You narrow your eyes down at him, meeting his gaze; making sure that you gather any more detail you could about him physically. He knows a lot more than what he leads on… His eyes flickering around briefly: at Eden then back to you, and something about that simple look around irks you. It sends a couple of negative mixed signal’s through your brain. Your form shifting a bit to cover Eden up more with your body, at most your legs. Her hands squeezing at your clothing at the unintended invitation.

Lessa was a absolute fool to bring this one in.

“She’s nobody.” Lessa hisses through her teeth with a happy tone. Her blue eyes sending you another glare up at you before lighting up again once Linton looks back at her. Smiling as if she hasn’t done a single unholy thing in her life before giving a light laugh. “A maid at most! Let me show you around, babe!”

You can see the man hesitate before reluctantly following her. Letting himself be pulled by her hand and lead him further into the mansion. Your parents lingering for a second, giving you a lasting glare before following their steps. You would feel… sorry, but with how many years you put up with their shit? It wasn’t even worth to waste such emotion.

“That guy is weird.” Eden comments up at you, saying whatever pops up into her head. Your figure leaning up from the glass railing while you decided that pinnacle of drama was enough for the both of you. Better things can be done besides being bait to some theatricals.

You nod down at her though: agreeing. This “Linton Stokes” was definitely weird. He knew that you were part of the household even if you weren’t really well… apart of it. His gives off an… strange aura that you can’t pinpoint just yet, but you know it’s negative. It’s not something to just brush off either. Not to mention the random look he gave Eden…

You need to keep an eye on this dude. Yet, you cannot always be there for her, no matter if you want to or not; could or not. The family would get suspicious, and start lies or something that was supposed to ruin your own reputation. She also could get targeted too, and you definitely did not want that to happen. No child deserved to not feel a mother’s love, father’s protection or even a siblings connections, and just because you didn’t have it yourself? It doesn’t mean you would revoke someone else of that… wholesomeness. That was just a low blow, or at least you think it was- is.

You sigh, your shoulders dropping slightly in some form of internal defeat. How would you even protect her? At least until you feel safe that she was safe? It’s not like you could hire a damn mercenary or bodyguard. The spent money would be suspicious too.

…Wait.

Your eyes flicker up to the black and gold Shadow Keeper that kept to the shadows and the gold and royal blue Aquilan Shield below that keeps his own red visors staring up at you. Your mind thinking… There are others that can protect her, but were you willing to take that risk? To finally make request them of something after years of trying to ignore them the best you could?

To finally give them a sliver of your inconclusive trust?

[anoliverbranch]

Well I thought that Adeptus Custode will be the man who buys everything they need before his girlfriend talks to him.Care about every details.

[sculptorofcrimson]

Dance Macabre Pt 1

Traitor!Valdor AU Synopsis: The cycle begins again. And the one shard he spared. The one shard, in all his millenia, that he did not kill. Relations: You'll see ψ(｀∇´)ψ

She was the one and the only. The error in the code, the flaw in the machine, the exception to the rule. She was the shard that lived, the one and the only to be spared from the bite of his blade.

She was nothing exceptional in many instances. Slight above average psychic ability. A little above average of the Emperor's essence. Average intellect, strength, emotional response. Absolutely nothing at all. And yet she lived. She was the one, and the only, in all ten thousand years that the Traitor Captain reigned for his terrible, tyrannical rule before he was finally brought down and he ended the same way his master had ended: with golden ichor. Master and slave, Emperor and bodyguard, victim and assassin, let them be intertwined in death. Let him love Him, if only in death.

For all the years he had spent as a traitor, she was the only one who felt his wrath, and lived.

It was not love, the twisted thing they had. It was not even lust. He did not lust. He could not lust. He quite literally could not know desire. The one thing he had once cherished, worshiped, reveled in was dead, and He had torn out the machine that had been a heart when he betrayed Him. He had cast him down, through the gold and through the brume. His talons in his breastplate, His scorn upon His tongue, His hatred blazing in golden eyes as He speared Valdor through upon His claws and cast him down. That final, snipping cut, severing the bond between master and slave in a single, terrible instant upon the Vengeful Spirit.

It was no longer love. He loved Him, and He did not care.

He loved Him. He hated Him. He loved Him. He loathed Him. Around and around with the pendulum, desperate, broken, singing. The call of a mind stripped of all its gifts. Such a broken, piteous sight.

And so he hated His bones. His shards. His remnants. He did not know hate, his master had torn it out of him in so many regards, but he loathed them. He regarded them with no more kindness than if they had been Horus himself, as if they had been the ones to have poisoned him and given him the broken gift of being able to feel all he had lost. Of being just human enough to hate, to thrash and to weep against his chains, but without the true power to care, to know what he lost. Doomed to forever wander for a city he could not name and did not know, groping around blindly in the dark for something he lacked, but could not remember. 

He loathed them. 

He cursed their name the same way he cursed Horus. Horus, for his treachery. Horus, for his gift. Horus, for the way he had so gallantly smiled and welcomed Constantin with open arms when he had lowered the walls of the Palace, when he had broken the Siege of Terra alone and greeted Horus' hordes with gaping gates and scrambling defenses. Horus, for bringing him the truth.

Look at them. Despicable things. Wearing the face of his master as if it was a mask. He could not loathe Him directly, He had taken that away, but he could loathe them. He could loathe them for being Him but not being Him enough, he could loathe them for looking like Him, breathing like Him, living like Him once upon a time, he could hate them for carrying what should have been his. It was like looking upon the corpse of the sun, feeling its dying warmth screaming across the void but knowing it was held in the palm of a worthless mortal. A mortal. Nothing at all, when compared to him.

His master left His bones to the gentry instead of His servant. There was no greater insult than to see Him again, alive, living through their useless bodies, when He had died for their countless, dreary lives and they had lived. They lived for Him, they lived in His place, they're living and desecrating His corpse which should have so righteously remained dead. Let the galaxy burn, let it burn itself to ashes and consume itself under the weight of its voracious hatred, let the mortals stumble and fall and lead themselves to a piteous doom, he would have gladly let them all burn if only he could see Him again. If only to feel the warmth of His love, even if he had to torch Him alive to feel it.

He died ten thousand years ago. And in His place, they wear His corpse.

He sees His face imprinted upon theirs, he sees His bones, rotten and crumbling, stretched over their fragile bodies. He sees His essence, trapped inside, cradled in flesh and bone and it was his duty to tear it free. It was his duty to punish such blatant disrespect of His legacy, his righteous crusade to set Him free and return His soul where it belonged: in the palm of His favored servant. Let them all burn, he reasoned, let them all burn if only he could ignite his lord one last time.

When they fell into his claws, nothing awaited his master's bones but destruction. 

It would have been impulsive for the normally heartless captain, if it had been any but his master. It would have been cruel, it would have been horrifying, it would have been treachery and blasphemy and heresy. But it was also justice. Justice, at least for him. Justice as he watches them scream, sob and wither away, as he watches their fragile bodies break down from starvation and dehydration, dying as their bodies struggle from the poisons pumping through their bloodstream, drowning in their own blood. How he replicates His wounds one by one, first the tendons, then the muscles, then the eye, and then the corpse itself. The Apollonian Spear, carefully, with infinite precision, carving tiny cuts upon them, bleeding them out drop by drop, tasting his lord's memories with each slice. Listening to Him screaming as he sets his boot down upon a fragile, mortal chest, hearing Him roar out in indignity and in betrayal as he presses down and hears the shard's ribs crack and then crumble beneath his weight, as their chest finally gives out beneath the endless pain. And feeling Him die, once more, blood dripping like ichor over the Apollonian Blade, finally preserved in the last tomb He would ever know: the very spear of his servant. Home again at last, as He deserves to be. 

He will kill them all. It was spoken in his vows. 

There is no respite for a shard in the Yellow King's arms. There is only oblivion. He will never spare them, never love them, never hold even a candle of adoration for his former master. To those that dare desecrate His corpse, there is only death, and a slow, horrifying drowning, lost limb by limb to uncaring treachery. He always kills them, as soon as the Aquilan Shields are scattered, their shields shattered and their spears cast aside. His brothers are nothing compared to him. They always die, in hours, or in days if the Aquilan Shields are resourceful, if they're willing to sacrifice themselves for the shard. They rarely succeed, of course. He is Constantin Valdor, and he is the Emperor's greatest assassin, and he will tear His soul shred by shred from the mortal corpses He wears.

When he has them, they always die.

She alone was the exception.

In all ten thousand years, she was the only one who has faced his wrath, lost by the Aquilans, and lived.

She was an Inquisitor of the Ordos Malleus. She had been the one hunting him, the King in Yellow, until the day he caught up to her, and tore her ship open in the middle of the Warp. The Aquilan Shields had come soon before, they had told her what she had to know, and in the Inquisitor's arrogant, off-handed way, she had dismissed them. She had dismissed the fear she saw in their eyes, dismissed it the same way she had dismissed her concerns and plunged into her hunt.

She still remembered that day, the golden devil clad in the raiments of his lost brothers, his cloak a ragged, dead thing hanging over his shoulders, glorious and golden and horrifying as he gutted the ship apart hunting for her. The fear in Ashavar's eyes, visible even through his helm. The way they danced, blade over blade, spear against spear. Valdor fought in his peerless, immaculate style, but now with vicious abandon, the mark of a soul that had nothing left to lose. They had prepared for this. They had prepared a thousand contigencies for this day, yet none of them would serve them at all. Ashavar clashed against him, forcing all his strength into a strike that made even Valdor stall. He punched him in that gap, without fitness and without grace, without any of the training Valdor had enforced upon him. He smashed one of the jewels on Valdor's armor, ducking under Valdor's riposte and dancing around the edge of the Apollonian Spearblade before Valdor stabbed him in the gut. 

There was utterly no honor at all. 

Valdor struck him three more times with the misericordia, Apollonian Spearblade briefly forgotten. He smashed his fist against the side of the Aquilan's helm when he had stumbled, pinning him to the bulkhead with one hand and bashing him against it for good measure. Casting him aside as if he weighed no more than a guardsman, Valdor had turned around to face her. And the Inquisitor had not fled. Gazing up into those blank eyes without even a hint of fear, she raised her own vox and spoke a single, terrible command. Her lips were trembling from nerves. But her eyes were calm, and dead, and utterly triumphant 

‘Ship command. This is your Inquisitor speaking. Activate the Cyclonic Torpedoes we're carrying. Activate all of them.' 

That was her secret. She had been willing to kill both herself and him even before she had set out upon this journey,  before she had met the Aquilan Shields. The captain goes down with her ship.

That brief, brutal moment of deathly cunning flashing through red eyelenses. The moment of revelation, spreading like ink through water. The way she had smiled, vicious, cruel, and victorious.

The Inquisitor had smiled mildly at him, and gave a nod in the direction of the engines. His eyes had tracked that movement, just for an instant, flickering between her and her command box.

'We'll die together, Constantin.'

She was still triumphantly holding her command box when Ashavar pounced.

He crashed onto not Valdor, but onto her. He had wrapped her up beneath his bulk, covering her entirely with his body. She could smell his incense, feel the cold hum of his auramite and feel the bruises forming from where he had smashed into her. He crushes her with all his weight, covering her, wrapping around her. She couldn't breathe but still she tried to scream. If not for herself, then for him. She couldn't see, Ashavar's purple cloak had obstructed her face, but she could feel him. The first misericordia blow shattered his auramite. The second broke through his spine. She could feel him convulse, spasming at least a dozen times beneath the blows. Valdor was so fast, so unspeakably fast, and vicious in his frenzy to get to her. To claw her out and tear out the Emperor's last breaths from her broken corpse. Ashavar groaned above her, and she could hear that voice, so commonly kind, so gentle, now raised in agony. A scraping sound. Ashavar spasmed. A siren was blaring somewhere from lower down on the ship. Then nothing. Ashavar's blood was clouding her eyes. His cloak was soaked with it. His slumped form, once so gigantic, briefly dwarfed by Valdor's looming shadow, now emptying itself of life. 

He had thrown himself over her, and Valdor had cut him to pieces.

'I'll see you again, my master.' It was a curse, as much as a promise.

The traitor Captain had left. Fled, like the coward he was, out of fear or rather "pragmatism", when he realized he would not have time to cut through his brother's corpse and escape the burning supernova of the ship. Fled to kill another day.

She remembers the Aquilans, their panicked voices, their spears and their axes. The way their Shield-Captain had bundled her up in his cloak and frantically tried to wipe the blood from her hair. Two Custodes carrying Ashavar through the winding corridors, ducking beneath the panicked crew. The Shield-Captain's voice, soft and mournful and still trying to be gentle, carrying her wounded form away from the fire. Away from the blood and that terrible, bloodstained cloak, whisking her away before the ship could implode beneath its own baggage of fire.

It was not the first time they would meet. And it was not the first time she would know, with cruel certainty, that he hated her. He hated her, as he hated all shards, and if he had the chance, he would have undoubtedly flayed them all alive, just for another sip of his master's love.

He loved his master. And he hated His shards.

~~~

They had scolded her after that stunt. The Aquilans had scolded her, their red eyelenses masking their fear. Fear for her, fear of him, fear of her and the lengths she was willing to go. They insisted on accompanying her on her walks, on tracking every moment of her health, and standing over her during her meals. It was infuriating. (Then again, she couldn't blame them. Her great-great-great-great ancestral grandmother had apparently been exiled after a much-similar failed coup. That stunt had garnered her much worse than just a few days of annoyance from Aquilan Shields being too overprotective of their charge).

She knew she was dead long before she had set foot upon Daedalus Lied, she had known she was a dead girl walking before she had even baptized her own ship after a long dead genius. The Inquisitor knew that she had been waiting for death since her love had last perished beneath the flames of a heretical cult she had failed to root out, she knew that not even her love of humanity(the Emperor's or hers now?) would have been enough to stop that tide of ink-laden despair that had threatened to pull her down since that terrible night. She had loved them, yes, she had loved this world, with every last of its worthless, tiny, miniscule lives, loved each of them to a vague, beautiful detail, but it was not enough, not enough to overcome her selfish wish for death. To be eternal, and endless, and be with her love in the lightlessness. 

She was nothing, in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an Inquisitor with a dead psyker-assassin as a lover, a dead love she couldn't even stop from self-destructing from the waves of the warp. Nothing but an Inquisitor with a deathwish and the dying gasps of her beloved, and the heart of the Emperor beating within her. She was alone, so utterly alone even with six Aquilans watching over her, and perhaps that was why he spared her.

All those other shards. Mortal. Joyous, mischievous, alive, young in a way she could never be young, frivolous and dainty and pretty. He had killed them all. Those who were cruel, a king clad in gold and crimson, a budding emperor with a tyrannical fist, those he would occasionally spare, just to gaze upon Him for a few moments longer. Inevitably, they would extinguish, snuffed out once more in this incarnation. They always died, she knew, she knew even as she relived the moments of the many girls he had slaughtered. Their eyes, reflected in his cold, unfeeling auramite, their screams, echoing through the corridors of the past and into eternity. So small, so fragile, and so utterly dead beneath his gaze.

He met them again, in the span of months after her recovery but before the Aquilan Shields could truly let go of their fear. They still hung about her, wandering meaninglessly, fussing over her every beck and call. Months had passed. Her investigation, slow and grueling, had led her, with stealth and trickery, to the heart of the storm. To the traitor Captain's own lair. Maulland. The dead world where a fallen prince had once lived in exile.

He met her, face to face, in the gaping emptiness between the dead earth of Maulland's primary moon, the grey and white of the snow sailing over her uniform. The moon itself had no name, although its inhabitants had taken to calling it the Priest-King, out of some last kind of spite for the exiled captain that had once lived upon the world. He had lived here, peacefully, in silence, in contemplation and in grief, until his hate brought him out to hunt. Until his loathing for his master's corpse and his master's throne drew him out, and he rampaged.

They had stood, immobile, and for a while she heard nothing but the empty howl of the storm.

'You are here to die.' Valdor said at last. There was no tone of inflection in his voice, no sign of regret. Only flat, cold victory. She had returned his words with a smile, and a nod.

'And you are here to slay me.'

The traitor captain had smiled then. It was a cold, insane smile, the smile of a large starving cat finally having a fresh meal. He will kill her and carve her apart, of that the Inquisitor had no doubt. So be it. She was, as always, ready to die.

He hated her, she knew. He hated all shards. Good. She hated him too. She expected to die.

'Of course.' he gestures in a curt bow, similar to the bows he had demonstrated countless times to his master when they were King and Servant. 'I did not think you were quite as arrogant as you may have your entourage believe. Where are your bodyguards, Inquisitor? Where are your troops? Have they abandoned you tonight?'

'They're preparing to slay you, I presume.' she chuckled darkly. She doubted if any had advanced as far as she, to the point of striking out against the very heart of his traitor kingdom. It was not his throne, but it was his heart, the King in Yellow's long years of ruminations and exile baked into the very snows of the planet. She wondered if he would suffer, maybe crack a little inside, if she declared Exterminatus upon the world and its inhabitants. She wondered if he would mourn. Certainly not mourning for the planet's residents, or even for himself, but for all the years and memories he had spent, and lost, there.

Valdor had tilted his head. 'Ah. You have questions.' So coldly monotone as ever, so pleasant, even when he lowered the blade. She wondered if he had been so kind upon Ararat.

She had advanced then, moving towards him without fear. She could sense the Aquilan Shields' anxiety through her headpiece, hearing their auramite sevros crackle, feeling them tense in anticipation. Lehievin drew in a sharp breath. The Shield-Captain was ready in position, waiting to snap the jaws of the trap closed, waiting only for her word. She did not give it.

'You know what we are here for. Your crimes. Your sins. Your treachery, captain-general.' she met his gaze, and did not let him drop it. 'The slaughter of your own brothers. High treason to the Throne. Rebellion against the Emperor. The sabotage of loyal Imperium defenders. The destruction of the Palace. Consorting with the dark gods. By the authority of my office, by the word of the Inquisition and Ordos Malleus, and by the power vested in me by His words, you are forfeit of this city. You will be taken to Holy Terra and tried in fair and open court. Your fate will be determined by your brothers, and by Lord Guiliman himself. May the Emperor have mercy on your wretched soul, captain-general."

Her words seemed to amuse him, in some broken, forgotten way. 'I see,' he said at last. 'And what makes you think I will obey your fickle office, when I have, by your own words, rebelled against the Emperor Himself?'

Her lips twisted into a thin smile. Harshly, she laughed, brutal and barking and laughing against the wind. He simply crossed his arms over the shaft of the Apollonian Spear and listened to her. 

'Because you know, Constantin.' she finally growled out. 'You know you can't win, not against six Aquilan Shields with teleporter beacons and a direct line to Terra's reinforcements. That's why I'm not going to lie down and wait for you to kill me, like all those other shards you've captured, Constantin. You hate them. You see them and you kill them on sight. Sometimes, the best outcome is for them to escape your grasp, hide away, rot the rest of their lives in oblivion, and never be found again. Cause when you capture one, you torture every drop of life from them, and make sure they're just as dead as Him when you're done. How truly pathetic of you, Constantin.'

Nothing, not even a shift of his posture.

'But do you want to know why I'm here, captain-general? Do you truly want to know?'

'Yes.'

'I am your executioner, Constantin. You have simply lived too long. Your execution is tonight, even if mine is too. We'll die together, Constantin. Me, the shard you called your master the last time, and you, the servant. There will be no shards after me, and I suppose none before me either.' None that could have harmed him and unsettled him. 

Thunder lashed in the distance. The storm whipped at him, driving jagged spikes of lightning over his auramte-clad features. The Apollonian Spear, always activated, grumbled in the dark. Its ornate carvings were encrusted with old blood, the blade gleaming dully in the gloom. 

'You are going to watch your bodyguards die, my master. Their blood will be on your conscience.'

She snorted.

'I am not your master, Constantin. And conscience? You dare speak of conscience? Merely look at what you've become, and dare to utter the word conscience? Go on, preach to me of conscience and loyalty, traitor. It was not I who betrayed His throne.'

For a long moment, he said nothing. For a moment he seemed to nearly recoil, as if this encounter had suddenly gone too far from his plans. 

'Surrender, captain-general.' she insisted. 'Kneel, and you will be dragged to Terra in golden chains. Refuse, and your corpse will be dragged to the Emperor in rags.'

'You are a fool if you think I can know fear, Inquisitor.'

'This is not about fear. This is about surrender. You cannot make a stand here.' There was not a trace of desperation in her voice now, but a trace of anger. Lehievin shifts from beneath his cloak, guardian spear in hand. Ophiel and Ashavar's names were engraved upon his breastplate. Two new names, to remember them. He no longer was thinking about the deeds that had earned them, merely the Custodes that had been sacrificed. His brothers. They were his brothers, and Valdor cut them to pieces. 'This is arrogance, captain-general. Madness. You, alone? You cannot face us. You have no armies. No weapons. No defenses. No allies. You have nothing left but yourself, standing here now.' Serenely, almost as if to comfort him, she smiled. 'And that's not enough. Surrender. Surrender, simply, and I'll treat you well. I'll be the only shard that will.'

Because, in some deeper, ancient portion, He loathed him too. He loathed him back, and His shards had always felt this hate. The sense of shattered loyalty and vengeance against the traitor captain.

For a moment, just enough for Lehievin to draw in three breaths, Valdor seemed to listen. If not precisely even think of accepting her offer, then to at least resign himself. For a moment, he looked almost like the broken thing he was, yielding to treachery because he knew no way out. The mind of someone without even a right to dream, and now having no other way but to scream soundlessly for eternity, crying its tears out for someone that did not know how to weep.

Had Valdor wept when the Emperor died? She found, with no great surprise, that she did not care. 

'You will die braver than most, Inquisitor.' he finally said. The Apollonian Spear, already kindled, guttered to life. Its aura, now streaked with red instead of blue, crackled against the vengeful storm. 'You remind me of a High Lord, so long ago in the past. I suppose you do not remember. That is alright. But for life to move onwards, the secret does not lie in the future, but in the past. Humanity's future is dead, Inquisitor. It is as dead as my master, rotting upon His throne. His past, however, is alive. It is what drives your fickle race, it is what keeps them alive, sloughing along just for one more day. You are nothing but His dreams from the past, still imprinting themselves on the present. None of you shards have a future, and none of you will have a past.' 

She watches the Apollonian Spear swing with some kind of daze. He moves towards her then, not aggressively, but the display of power was still blatantly naked. Something was moving in the snow and the storm, something was roaring that was not thunder. It was something dragged out of the past and torn from its grave, mangled memories tearing through a life that could not remember it. It was the growling of an ancient, dying beast roused from its slumber, uncoordinated and savage and so mindlessly hateful that they would have followed this crazed captain like a prophet.

'We have no future, you and I. Which is why I am telling you this now, so you may heed it, one last time, before your endless life extinguishes itself again, my Emperor. Rejoice, my lord.' 

Lehievin could wait no longer. He gave the signal to strike, even as their charge seemed to be frozen, hypnotized before Valdor as he steadily advanced towards her. Three Aquilans closed in upon him from the side, their guardian spears gleaming as they rose like  vengeful revenants from the grave and threw off the disguise fields ripping around them, teleporters furiously blazing as reinforcing Custodes descended upon the traitor captain. Lehievin pushed himself, shrugging past his lieutenant, auramite sevroes grinding as he sprinted, already-superhuman capabilities strained to the limit as he charged. He had to reach her before he did. He had to reach her before Valdor did....

The Apollonian Spear was hefted into its killing position.

In the heart of the storm and its wrath, where the rock was as black as oil and the thunder as hateful as storms, red-tinged helmets blazed from bronze armor, and began to advance. 

Somewhere, in the distance, was an eerily familiar, ragged laugh.

'Rejoice, my dear Emperor, and gaze upon the corpses you've betrayed. You are present once more at their very first engagement.'

As Lehievin finally closed the distance, and his spear scraped against the spine-jarring thrust of Valdor's killing strike, the thunder descended to earth.

[ms--lobotomy]

gay sex

Summary: Kesh needs to blow off some steam after losing the last Blood Game.

Word Count: 1092

Content Warnings: SMUT, she's literally insane but that's like half of why i love her, maybe light degradation if you squint, have i mentioned gay sex yet

Image Credit: @squishyowl

You lay on your side on your bed, clad in nothing but a nightdress. You flipped through a book, one of the many you had stockpiled while you were waiting for your lover to return, but you couldn't keep yourself invested in the material. You carefully placed your bookmark in the book before you cast the book aside. You flipped onto your back and sighed. You tried to close your eyes, but they couldn't stay closed for long.

You thought of being held in her strong arms, being kissed by those scarred lips. You melted as you thought of her honey-brown eyes roving your body, her hands venturing to places you dared not say. You shuddered as you wrapped your arms around yourself in the cold room. Something forced itself into the lock in your door, and you curled up by the bed.

"Who's there?" you asked, grappling for something to defend yourself with.

The door opened, and you heard a familiar chuckle. "No need to hide, darling, it's just me."

You saw her silhouette as she entered the room. Her golden armor made her even bigger against the light from outside the room. It made her look like an angel in the doorway. She removed her helmet, shaking out her dark hair and placing it on the nearest table.

"Cal-" you started, as she closed the door and stepped ever closer to you. You shifted on the bed, bare legs dangling by the side.

She said your name, wrapping her metal arms around you. They were cold. After a while, she pulled back, taking your hands in hers. "Can you help me remove my gauntlets?" she asked, rubbing your knuckles with her thumb.

"Of course," you said, feeling your heart thump in your chest. You fiddled with the controls on the side of one glove before you removed it. "Your other hand?" you asked as she offered your other hand. You hummed as you took it off. "So, how did the games go?"

"Mm," Cal sighed, wrapping her free hand around your waist. "The surface of Terra is still intact. If it weren't for that damn..."

"Oh," you said quietly, as her hand trailed precariously close to your chest. "Well, there's always next time, isn't there?"

Her hand cupped you as you spoke, and you let out a small whine. She smiled coyly down at you. "Well, we can think about next time later. I just got back to my partner. Can't I enjoy her presence for a little bit?" She squeezed your nub through your clothes, and you let out a little squeal, grasping the side of the bed.

"That's it, that's my girl," she said, loosening up just enough for you to finish taking off her other gauntlet before feeling your thigh with her now free hand. The silky fabric of your nightdress bunched up beneath her hand as she moved up your leg, cupping the other side of your chest and pulling you in right next to her. Her armor was rough against you, but you sighed into her anyways.

"Cal..." you mumbled, your head resting against her cold armor.

She let you rest as she played with your nub for a little bit before hoisting you onto her lap. Your hands rested against her armor, lightly tracing the lightning emanating from the cyan stone in the center. You looked up at her, and she looked down at you with a mischievous expression. She slid you down on her legs, positioning you mid-thigh before she put her index and middle finger up on her lap.

"Ride."

"What?"

"You heard me, princess. Ride."

Your cheeks flushed warm as you inched closer to her fingers. Her smirk showed teeth, a fang-like canine catching the dim light. You moved to the side to pull your underpants off. They disappeared by the side of your bed as you swung your leg over her again, her chestnut-brown eyes roving your body.

You moved up on her as you grinded on her, teasing yourself on her. Nevertheless, you moaned her name, finding ruts on her armor to use as handles to steady yourself. She put a hand on your head, guiding you down onto her fingers as you let out a small yelp.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked as your breathing sped up.

"Mmh-!" you exclaimed, your eyes squeezing shut as you buried your face in her armor.

Soon enough, you were down to her knuckles, biting your lip to keep you from whimpering pitifully on her. Her hand moved to your cheek, tilting your face back up to look at her.

"You call that riding? I asked you to ride me, princess," she chided, running her free hand along your waist.

"S-sorry," you choked out, moving your hips up and down on her. Despite everything, you let out a high moan on her. She chuckled down at you, moving the hand on your cheek through your hair.

"Good girl," she said as you sped up on her. She moved her fingers along with your rhythm, letting you control the speed at which you went. She leaned down to whisper sweet nothings into the top of your forehead as you bounced up and down on her fingers, working your way up to a climax.

"Oh, you're my sweet princess," she mumbled on top of you. "So soft, so sweet on me. Hm?"

You couldn't formulate any words; all of your energy and thoughts were focused on her, her rough fingers under you, sliding in and out of you. You let out another loud moan on her, grasping desperately for her shoulder pauldrons before you finally came on her, loud and hard.

"Hngh-- Cal!" you shouted as you gushed on her.

"Hm? What is it?" she asked as you soaked her fingers. You shivered after you came, burying your face yet again in her armor. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, despite everything. Dammit-

"I... I came," you said weakly, a small smile on your face.

She pulled her fingers out of you, tasting you while she looked into your eyes. Her free hand grasped your waist, squeezing slightly. "You taste so good," she mumbled. "Although, I might need some more help taking off my armor. Care to help me?"

Your shaky hands found their way to the controls of her chestplate. As you fumbled with them, she ran her hand through your hair again.

"That's it, that's my princess," she said, reaching down to plant a kiss to the crown of your head.

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[aerkame]

Warhammer 40k Fic ideas

I think we can all agree that Warhammer 40k has an insane amount of lore and it's hard to pick just one topic. So, I decided to just make a poll and ask from a list of topics that you guys would want to see written in as a fanfiction.

Now, there is a full fanfiction I plan on writing already based on a one shot fic I already wrote, but aside form that, I am not sure what other topics to get into.

For my usual readers, yes, I am still writing that finfolk fanfiction and Alive AU

Some of these are reader inserts for a reason (or at least, I just don't know how I could write an x reader for it) for the sake of staying in character or maintaining their image. The Emperor *cough cough*-

I love the custodes in case you could not tell. :]

[thethronezone]

High Consort Pt.2

Because I could not stop thinking about this mess of a relationship and if I have to suffer, so do everyone else... Here's more.

The Emperor promised to marry his Consort once he had successfully conquered Terra. And credit where credit is due because Big E actually kept that promise. Him in his armor, you in your finest clothes (specifically made for this occasion) and with only the Legio Custodes to witness the ceremony. There wasn't an exchange of vows, no reception or officiator. He simply declared himself Emperor and that you were, from this moment on and till the stars died out, his High Consort. The Custodes didn't sing, did not cheer, but stomped the ground, slammed their weapons agains their shields, all as one, making the air vibrate and the ground shake.

Guess what? You own Luna! Aka the fucking moon. Yeah, it was a wedding gift. I mean, technically the Emperor rules over it but in name? It's yours!

Like I said in the first part, if you want to work, then it's mainly administrative duties. It's actually quite important work, since you oversee some real secret government stuff. Not the worst of it, nah, the Emperor leaves that to Malcador.

Something Big E does leave to you? Organizing banquets, feasts and other festivities. Sounds more fun than it is, considering the fact that this also entails overseeing the guest list. Do you know how many people can fit in the (multiple) imperial ballrooms and gardens? A fuckton. And as the 'host' of the party, you get to greet most of them! Isn't that wonderful?

More things the Emperor calls you instead of your name! "Spouse", "my starlight", "dear one", "treasure". Those last three are only in private. Majority of the Imperium don't know your actual name and calls you High Consort. More accurately "the revered ruler of Luna, First Lord/Lady of the Imperial Palace, Keeper of Terra, the one and only High Consort to the one and only Emperor of Mankind". The title somehow gets longer each time.

You make the Emperor a bit less of a douche. He's still a bastard but you make him just a smidge more bearable. Probably because he does care about you. Will he steamroll you in every conversation? Yes. Does he not take your arguments seriously? Yep. Will he dictate every part of your life from the shadows? Yeah. But he does like seeing you happy so he refrains from doing some stuff that he knows would upset you. At least if you're there to see it happen.

The fights you have are fucking wild. You can be absolutely furious, screaming, throwing things at him, and the Emperor will just stand there and be like "You done yet?" which will make you scream and throw some more thing. Big E might try and placate you a little, "Dear, you are acting irrational, calm down", but most of the time he just waits until you get tired. And when you're all out of air he'll go "Good thing we solved that" and LEAVE. Fucking prick.

When Malcador ain't available, you vent to your personal Custodi bodyguard. Yes, they are ultimately loyal to the Emperor and will never badmouth him but this one Custodi will nod along when you call your husband a "rat-fucking-bastard".

It's not all bad of course. The Emperor can be downright romantic when he wants to. He knows all your favorites and always has this in mind when he gives you stuff or does stuff with you. New garden? Filled with your favorite flowers. Anniversary dinner? Your favorite food. A piece of jewelry he acquired on his resent battle on some distant planet? Your favorite color. When you reunite after a long time apart, he kisses your hands. The Emperor loves your smile, loves seeing you happy. All the art work he commissions of you depicts you smiling, from a subtle smirk to smiles where all your teeth shows.

In canon, the Primarchs were made out of the Emperor's and Erda's DNA (with some major gene manipulation in there) and yeah, that's still the truth in this scenario. Except there's also parts of you in there. Because if the Emperor likes you enough to marry you, then you probably have a bunch of traits that he likes. Wisdom, tenacity, courage etc.. So congrats! You now get to co-parent 20 18 of the strongest humans in the Imperium! At least one of them has your smile.

[egrets-not-regrets]

Ultramarine (looking at custodes painting): Siiiiimp. *under his breath*

What was that?

Ultramarine: No, nothing, none of by business, moving on….

-------

The Ultramarines stop, looking up at the massive portrait.

It's of a Custodes, who is of a rank which they cannot determine. What is of more interest is who else is with him in the art; Someone, clearly a baseline human, is sitting in front of him. He has his hand on her shoulder, and the other holds his spear in hand. The Ultramarines find it odd. The Custodes are above baseline humans, above all of them as well. Why would one spend time with such an insignificant human, let alone to stand still for such a painting?

"That is Valerius Caledon. He is an Aqulian Shield." Another Ultramarine speaks the question most obvious to them all.

"Who is the woman?"

The custodes turns to look at the portrait for a moment.

"Aqulian Shields are made to protect those deemed important to The Emperor's future. She is his charge."

The eldest Ultramarine looks at the portrait, and how Valerius’ hand gently rests in the nook of her neck, instead of chastely on her arm. Even he can tell there is something deeper than just guardian and charge.

But he says nothing, and they all move along.