An open mind is like a fortress with its gates unbarred and unguarded.
Black Legionnaire x Ultramarine
18+, NSFT, Dubcon, Oral Sex
AO3 link
— ℧ —
As with many heresies before it, it started with a simple book.
It was an unnamed camp on an unnamed rock, filled with rabid fools that thought the blessings of their dark gods would be enough to pierce ceremite armour. Caelum and his squad swept through it like a blue and gold tide, each movement exact and unrelenting. Frankly, it had taken longer for them to reach the top of the hill than it had for them to finish cleaning this ruin out.
While his brothers finished their sweep of the camp, destroying any ruinous idols and collecting any useful intel, it fell to Caelum to search what he can only guess to be their makeshift sleeping quarters. Piles of rags bundled together on the ground, kept out of the mud by bare planks of wood. Crates held useless things, empty cans repurposed into candles, food scraps left wherever. It was a disgrace and an insult to the Imperium. He couldn’t wait until it could be put to the torch.
So far, the only thing of use he had found was a handprinted paper book labeled The Lash of the Serpent. Caelum had always had a love of books, something his Primarch seemed to encourage in all his sons. Normally, he wouldn’t dare take something from a heretic’s camp to keep, but he was careful to flip through the pages and saw no signs of corruption or taint. Just poorly written purple prose, which while painful, wasn’t yet outlawed. Sadly, not everyone could write like Dame Agatha of Mallowan. So into his pack the book went as he continued his duties. He hadn’t had something new to read in ages and not everyone could be like Brother Caedo, after all.
— ℧ —
If he had the ability, Caelum would reach through time and space to slap the stupidity out of himself. The Chaplains led lecture after lecture on the hidden dangers of Chaos, and yet Caelum had foolishly thought himself and his little book the exception. He had thought nothing about returning to his cell to read after returning from his mission and tending to his weapons and armour.
Stripped down to just his tunic, Caelum had settled at his desk and opened his new book. At first, it had seemed like any other, following the story of a Cadian Shock Trooper separated from their squad after the fall of Cadia when their ship was attacked in the Warp by an Emperor’s Children Cruiser, The Serpent’s Lash. The plot was simple, if interesting enough. Knowing that they could not take on an entire warband by themself, they planned to sabotage the ship's reactor, something he approved of. The Cadian was clever, determined, and loyal, all good traits for a soldier, even if Caelum could do without the constant descriptions of their purple eyes. Even the plot of the traitor astartes hunting them through the ship as they tried to gather materials was tolerable enough.
It was only when the Cadian was captured and taken to a cell for interrogation did things take a turn for the strange. At first, Caelum thought it was simply a torture scene, if one written by someone who had never experienced it. It was only when the focus was put on the genitalia and the Cadian started moaning that he realized that he was actually reading Slaaneshi filth.
The book had quickly gone into the nearest incinerator and Caelum had honestly considered following it in, if just for the shame of it. Instead he decided to firmly put the incident from his mind and do his very best to forget it ever happened. But once he had begun to see them, it was impossible to stop. Maybe it was the style of the title, maybe it was the cover’s art, maybe it was just an aura around them. Whatever it was, whenever Caelum was sent on a mission, at some point he would eventually stumble across one of these ‘bodice rippers.’ Cautious investigations aboard the ship and a few carefully worded questions to a serf sworn to silence had revealed an entire genre of these types of books, typically involving a cruel brooding lead and a romance that was often dubiously consensual at best.
The library itself held a very small collection, hidden in the far back on the bottom shelves where an astartes was unlikely to notice them. Caelum had flipped through them, unsure of what he was expecting to find. It definitely wasn’t tales of buxom women being kidnapped by arrogant Inquisitors for information that was apparently being kept between her legs, or of beautiful rebels being led back into the Emperor’s light by stern Interrogators.
But those were nothing compared to the books he would find in the keepings of traitors and heretics. Here, it was his brothers and cousins who were both the source of obsession and the obsessors. Space Wolves kept as pets by Thousand Sons; Raven Guards chained down and used by Word Bearers; Dark Angels caught in intricate webs and broken down by the Alpha Legion. Twisted, degrading things that only the most depraved minds could think of.
Every time he found a new one, Caelum was quick to destroy it. But the idea of them haunted him. Who was writing these? Why? Was it an effort to sway loyal servants of the Emperor over to the Ruinous Powers? There was no sure way a thing like that could work.
…but surely to be able to defeat an enemy, one must understand it? Lord Guilliman himself taught that there is no such thing as a minor detail. Information is the foundation of victory. This was one of the reasons why the Codex Astartes was written, to include a compilation of strategies for every conceivable battlefield scenario.
So the next time Caelum had found one, tucked into a dented ammo box on a rebelling world, he had rather reluctantly kept it. He swore that it would not leave the planet with him and that he would destroy it when he was finished, but that did not change the fact that first he had to read it.
To his shame, he had to admit that this book was rather well written compared to the first one he had found, going into the depth of the torments of a Lamenter, captured and sold as a slave to a Red Corsairs warband, only to be claimed by their captain, a veteran of the Badab War. Of the slow, almost seductive, breaking of the son of Sanguinius. How by the end, the once proud defender on the Imperium was content to remain a pampered pet, now safe from the suffering of his bloodline.
He had kept to his word and destroyed the book once he was finished with it. But still, it clawed at him. The premise, the ideas behind it. Soon he found himself reading another one, a predatory chase set on a death world between a White Scar and a World Eater. Then another and another, all with the same underlining endings. The Chaotic forces victorious in their pleasures, the Loyalists either finally submitting or barely escaping in the end but changed by their experiences.
— ℧ —
Caelum knew the mortals were not as strong or as smart as Space Marines, but surely a Rogue Trader would at least know how to count. Two full squads of Black Legionnaires was not what he would personally consider “a few, barely a handful!”
The Trader had somehow managed to trap them in the bowels of his flag ship, but that also meant that he was practically floating dead in the water as the traitor marines gleefully cut their way through the lower level serfs and guards. By the Emperor’s Grace, Caelum’s squad had been close enough to hear his distress call and arrive in time to lend their aid. Part of him was cynical enough to consider that the mortal had willingly lied to them about the numbers to ensure that they wouldn’t leave, even if it was with the promise of returning with reinforcements.
Cursing under his breath and promising to hand deliver the Trader to the first Chaplain he saw if he survived this, Caelum fired his bolter from behind cover, trying to keep as much distance between himself and the approaching siege squad Legionnaire as possible. Trained and armoured for siege warfare and close-quarters boarding actions in space, and carrying a breacher shield to resist enemy fire, this was not an enemy Caelum wanted to be facing in tight quarters alone.
Which meant that desperate times called for desperate measures. Aiming around the traitor, Caelum could only whisper a desperate prayer as he pulled the trigger on his bolter at the barrels of promethium behind them. Realizing his actions, the Legionnaire spun with his shield braced in an attempt to catch the explosion just as the barrels ignited. That quick turn and the small field generator the shield contained were probably the only reason either of them survived the following explosion.
The shock wave had still thrown both of them clear down the hallway and into one of the walls, knocking the air out of Caelum’s lungs and leaving a hollow ringing in his ears. Still, he had fared better than the Black Legionnaire. The edges of their shield were smoking and warped from the heat and shrapnel, and the force of the impact had cracked the other astartes’ helmet and knocked him clean out.
Pushing himself to his feet, fingers reaching for the hilt of his combat knife, Caelum stumbled towards the unconscious form of the traitor. One good strike was all it would take, then he could reconvene with his brothers. Cautiously closing the distance, keeping a wary eye on the traitor to ensure they weren’t stirring, Caelum was almost within striking distance when a thought completely unworthy of a son of Ultramar filtered through his mind. It was pure filth, heresy, corruption.
It was probably the only chance he would ever get.
The Legionnaire had landed crumpled on a reinforced metal crate that had somehow survived having an astartes in full armour slamming into it, appearing almost sprawled out with his back against the wall behind him. His lower legs hung freely off the edge of the crate, almost the perfect height if Caelum was kneeling. All those stories, all those degenerate words, they had to come from somewhere. If he could just find out if there really was something to having sex with a traitor, some heathenistic taint, he could better guard himself and his brothers in the future. The Ultramarines prided themselves on having tactics for every situation, after all. And if nothing happened, then he would finally be able to move on with a clear mind and put all of this behind him.
Swallowing dryly, Caelum found himself stepping forward before he could second guess himself, sheathing his knife and reaching up to remove his helmet. Mag-locking it to his side, it was easy work to readjust the unmoving body before him. Thickly armoured thighs shifted under his gauntlets as he tugged the Legionnaire closer until the other marine’s hips rested just on the edge of the crate, boots now flat against the floor. Glancing up one last time to ensure that these movements hadn’t woken up the traitor, Caelum made quick work of the latches holding the codpiece to the rest of the armour, wetting his lips as the metal came away and the undersuit below was peeled down.
Even soft, the cock was almost the same thickness as his wrist, a warm olive brown that flushed into a ruddy purple towards the tip with thick wiry black curls around the base. It smelled like machine oil, salty sweat, and the same thick musk that all astartes shared after spending a week in armour without bathing. Leaning forward, he slowly lapped at the slit, letting the taste settle over his tongue. Salty and bitter but nothing unexpected so far. Definitely nothing worth turning on the Imperium for.
Pulling back, Caelum eyed the slowly hardening length with a critical eye. Penetration was meant to feel a lot more pleasurable, but he had neither the supplies nor the time to prepare himself for it, as a majority of the books seemed to imply that the loyalist was to be the receiving party. He could always try taking it raw, like that one Black Templar had in the book with the Claw of Night Lords. But he was no son of Dorn to find holiness and purpose in pain. He would just have to continue on as he had originally planned and hope to gain usable results.
Sinking down to his knees, Caelum slowly wrapped one gauntlet around the base of the length, holding it steady as he guided the fat head between his lips. Flattening his tongue, he tried to copy what he had read, watching his teeth as he slowly bobbed his head forward to swallow the hot flesh deeper. It was trickier than he had imagined, trying to swallow and keep a rhythm at the same time. One hand pressed against the Legionnaire's thigh for balance as he felt the head brush the back of his throat, more than half the length still to go.
But it was actually starting to feel good. Caelum wasn't sure if it was thanks to his omophagea, but he could feel the first faint stirrings of pleasure as he worked. Moaning softly, he let his eyes flutter shut as he swallowed messily, saliva dripping from the stretched corners of his mouth. Like an executioner round after a target, Caelum chased that small flicker of pleasure deeper, working his way closer to the base. The soft ache of his own cock, still encased in his ceramite armour, was nothing compared to the thrill of finally getting the answers he had been seeking.
Nose brushing against the wiry curls at the base, Caelum hummed in satisfaction at a task well done, having swallowed the entire length down. Each swallow briefly cut off air to his lungs, adding a rather pleasant bite to the sensation as he forced his throat to relax. He could practically feel the thick vein running along the underside throbbing as he sucked.
Each drip of cum was another spark of pleasure against his omophagea, like that sensitive spot inside the body that all the stories seemed to speak of. It felt like a race now, to finish getting the Legionnaire off so Caelum could swallow every drop. Pulling back slightly to give his tongue room to move, it only took a few more shy licks against his slit for the Legionnaire to come spilling down his throat.
The pleasure from each swallow swept over him, his omophagea translating the other man’s release into his own. A series of waves that kept cresting and cresting until Caelum finally fell apart with a muffled cry. By the time he finally came back to himself, face a mess of tears, drool, and come, his throat and jaw had actually begun to ache from the continuing stretch.
Bracing his shaking hands against the crate to hold himself steady, Caelum slowly began to withdraw, only to be firmly shoved back down by the sudden gauntlet curling around the back of his skull. Choking and swallowing frantically, Caelum glanced up through wet eyes, shame burning across his checks as he locked gazes with the lenses of the Black Legionnaire’s helmet now staring down at him.
“No, you are not done yet. I want to watch properly this time. Now suck.”
🦇Just a lil something I made for Night Huntress for her milestone on Instagram!🦇
*These are Night Huntress and Altani btw
These are 2625x3500 digital drawings and sketches done and captured on Ibis Paint X for the BEST AND GREATEST NIGHT LORDS FAN WHO HAS EVER LIVED for her 5 Thousand Followers on Instagram, and The references were mostly the new Jago Sevatarion JoyToy (that They 100% released Just for her) and The face I usually draw for Sev, This mix of Konrad and Angron's face.
Fem primarchs need to stay bald. If you are making fem Lorgar, Horus or Alpharius, that dome needs to be shiny. Don’t be a coward
I agree with this entirely. If your big-brained rule 63ing of a primarch gets rid of their core aesthetic traits and turns them into Generic Big Titted Woman, you're basic and a coward. The bald primarchs stay bald. Lorgar is covered in tattoos. Konrad is a scraggly, lanky goblinoid. Ferrus has a face like a dropped sack of bricks. Don't be weak.
No longer the Phoenix of Chemos, broken and fallen, tell me, proud phoenix, did you glimpse your decadent future in your own tears?
You have abandoned the glory you once held, worn away your truth, carved out your kindness, and surrendered to a warm cradle of perfection woven from falsehood and excess.
Based on the red-figure kylix depicting Pasiphaë and the Minotaur (dated between 375 and 350 BC).
«Even if one interprets the Minotaur as one of the embodiments of the bull-god (alongside Zeus), as the Minoans likely understood him, he remains a suffering deity.»
(Денисова Т. Ю. Одиночество Минотавра // Идеи и идеалы. – 2012, № 4, ч. 2.)
The object’s entry in the museum collection database.
Drawing AdMech is hard but actually really fun, so here are Seth's twin Mechanicus associates, Vladimus and Lavínia. ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)
Also trying some different brushes and stuff.
sleep paralysis daemon @empyreanfog - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
