Hello, I'm Nat. This is my side blog dedicated to mostly nerdy stuff (games, books, movies, etc.). I will ramble occasionally. If you see your posts getting followed and liked from @chicken-with-a-sword, that's my main blog.
Hello I’m absolutely in love with your blog!! I saw your requests were and was wondering if you have any line dividers with the color #1f4c3b? If your don’t could you make some? Ps - keep up the great work👍❤️
i am crawling on hand and foot, scratching at the door, mewling and whining and begging you to PLEASE WRITE THE MOURNIVAL KINK HEADCANON
sorry for making you wait ◡̈
i try to make these g/n but one implies you can lactate. wink.
nsfw 18+ of course!! a whole load of other astartes coming up soon. if you're not into it, don't read it, as usual.
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abbadon: dacryphilia. he never wanted to see you cry. he'd have done anything to protect you and keep you from harm, being so precious to him. yet, when you were lying beneath him, when his entire being consumed you, he couldn't help but enjoy the way you cried for him. he brings his thumb to your cheek, swiping away your tears that covered your pretty skin. it's okay, he'd tell you, worried at first he'd done something wrong. when you shake your head, beg him to carry on, to fuck you harder, to feel more of him, he'd feel himself twitch inside you. he had to make sure. you're crying because... of how good i make you feel? his ego would never recover. he'd make a silent competition with himself, knowing each time he had you, he wanted to see you cry, whimper, sob over him. he'd make it his goal to overwhelm you, make you feel so good it hurts. maybe he likes being praised in that way, knowing you really can't hold yourself back. either way, he thinks you're so pretty with your lashes wet, eyes glassy, and body exhausted - and he'd do just about anything to see it.
aximand: lactophilia. his fingers were twitching at his side. he hated himself for the thoughts he had. oh how badly he wanted to take your nipple into his mouth, have his warm lips wrap around the bud and suck. he hates it. but his hands still pawed at your waist as you approached him, his breath shuddering as offer your chest to him. he turns his head, yet steals another glance. hates it. he doesn't move as you lean into him, guide the back of his head down to your chest gently. you tell him it's okay, he can take what he wants. he still hates it. I can't... he'd tell you, his voice barely breaking a whisper. he tries to ignore the ache, tries to resist your temptation, but its all futile. just a taste, he'd tell you, latching onto your nipple, his hand on your back to hold you closer to him as his mouth caressed your full breast. he shouldn't want to have you riding his cock as he did this. he shouldn't want this all to himself. yet, as he presses his forehead against your chest for the shortest break, sinks his other hand into your hips to hold you steady as his groans, he still hates himself, but he'd never be able to live without this.
torgaddon: crurophilia. you'd been laying on your stomach, your legs fully bare. he'd never really been able to resist you, but he always found your legs incredibly beautiful. he'd run his fingers up your calves to your thighs, he'd press his lips the whole way up them too, he'd leave bruises across them, he'd sink his teeth into your soft flesh whenever he lost the smallest bit of attention. at first he'd turned you over, used his mouth to please you and pushed your thighs around his head, wanting to feel you tremble, wanting you to squeeze your thighs against him as you chase your high. feel your calf drag press against his back so you could have more of him in your most sensitive areas. but when he looked up to you, and caught your eyes, he'd stopped. i need to feel them, he'd tell you, unlacing your fingers from the bedsheets, kissing you roughly as he turned you back over. been thinking about doing this for a while, sweetheart. usually it was enough to have your legs around his waist or over his shoulders. wonder how it would feel to fuck those beautiful thighs, he'd say outloud, amused by how quickly you'd tense beneath him.
loken: authority. he strove to be better. to be the best even. it consumed him, sometimes, just as it was when he reached gently for you. i want... his hesitant words were so uncommon for someone in his position, but when you encouraged him to continue, he'd find the strength to admit his biggest secret to you. i need to be good for you. he wanted you to teach him to be everything you needed. he wanted you to hum in approval with everything you liked that he did, or deny him if he ever put a foot wrong. i'll do better next time, he'd promise you, his own mind going crazy over the thought of letting you down. his most favourite thing was when you told him no. he'd never beg you for more, he'd never demand what he wasn't rewarded with. he'd be patient, he'd sit with the desperate ache of having you tell him to be good, to wait. because it contradicted him so perfectly, didn't it? no one would ever know how desperate he was to have you say how well he did. that he needed to have you stroke his hair softly and let him lay his head on your chest. that a single word of praise could break him mentally and make you entirely his.
Tw: dub-con, consent quite dubious, smut datling, some nice smut.
When Horus is presented with this idea, your mind goes through several stages of emotions that just go spiraling down. Firstly you're confused, then you're scared; he must have perceived something different in your marriage, then angry because you thought that was some kind of easy way to ask you if he could go and fuck some other people (which it wasn't impossible; this man would be able to go with twelve different lovers and act like nothing is wrong).
After he had calmed you down, he used his small gift called persuasion to convince you that there's nothing wrong, there's nothing to spike up in your marriage, and he just thinks it could be good for you as it could be good for his sons (he used plural here). He's there, all dandy and nice, and it's kind of upsetting?
You don't know what's worse, the fact that he's encouraging it or that he seems somehow thrilled by the idea of seeing his lovable wife being fucked by his gene-sons or being watched while he makes a mess out of you.
You shook; you didn't know what you wanted to cover, your dripping pussy that was showing how much your body was enjoying everything, or your eyes, mostly to not see those four pairs of eyes watching you like a piece of meat.
Before you could decide, Horus's mouth caressed your ear, forcing your soaked thighs open with his large hands. They were big enough not only to move you like nothing but also to reach places without worrying too much, allowing one finger to open up your labia a little more for them to see your convulsing muscle trying to get a grip on nothing.
"Just do as you always do, dear." He whispered, allowing your cunt to find some blissful joy when he inserted one of those fingers inside your cunt. "It's just to show them how to treat you for future events."
You gasped and moaned in such a wanton way that it seemed like you could just lose your senses. The carnival looked like a war siege; there was some confusion and something else. One of them emitted a whine, gulping.
When his tips slowly traced your entrance, your body wiggled without control, begging him to fuck you but to find some privacy too. But this wasn't a private matter; this was a lesson. When his length entered in one move inside you, making you almost scream in agony and pleasure, his arms stopped you from moving too much, making a show of how your abdomen bulged for the intrusion.
"Pay attention, my sons." He said moving, the squeeching sound of your arousal. "Lesson commences."
Ezekyle Abaddon:
When he gets his hands on you, it is never a request; it is a demand.
His father gave him permission to do as he pleased with you, within its limit, and he planned to do it until this. novelty loses his interest.
When he fucks, he doesn't do it just to release the stress or any kind of pent-up emotion; it's because he needs to prove something to him, to you, and to the Warmaster. He saw this chance not like a gift, but like a test to prove to everyone that he can surpass his gene-father in this, and he doesn't care if he's close to being violent or aggressive or if you end up resenting him. Until he can prove something, nothing else matters.
The head of his member was literally smashing the back of your throat now, and with the grip of his hand on your head, it was like he was trying to drill a hole in your throat.
You tried to make some noise, slapping his thigh to make him slow down, to give you the chance to breathe; instead, he just gritted his teeth and pushed your face so deep that you felt his balls touching your chin.
"Quit…complaining…whore."
He slapped again; now your head was stuck between his hips and the wall, both of his hands making you steady for his brutal thrust.
"Eh, I bet you liked it even! Being fucked around… I'll make sure if someone else tries to do this, you can only think of me!"
He kept up this torture for more agonizing minutes until his seeds exploded in your mouth. It was so deep that you were forced to swallow, a few drops of it falling down from your mouth and nose, dirtying what was left of your robes and his boots. Once freed from that monster, you coughed, gasping for air, spitting some more of his semen. He tsked, grasping your head again.
"You spilled a few drops again."
"No no no, I need MMH!"
He silenced you again.
Horus Aximand:
If Abaddon does it to prove something, Horus does it to understand that something. He's a curious being, and now that this concept is presented by him, he's quite interested in what had brought his master to get a wife and indulge in sexual activity, which he knew was done by many before. Now, given the chance, he wanted nothing more than to learn what it was about, learning slowly how satisfying it is to get someone undone by his flesh. He's attentive, but more in a precision way, wishing to not harm someone precious to his gene-father, but still dancing on the line of too much.
He's a curious man.
Mouthing like a fish, he tried to not move too much, sensing some discomfort.
"Does it hurt?"
"S-stra-strange…feel strange!" You gasped, trying to talk coherently while his dick was deep in your anus. It was a strange request; he promised that he would stop in the moment you asked for it to end, but you haven't said stop.
His eyes were fixated where his flesh disappeared in your body; curiosity had drawn him to open up your labia to watch the inside. You watched him in confusion, but soon it felt all different when he started to move his dick inside your ass. It was a strange feeling; you never tried to do it even alone and had to decide to try it with you.
"S-Slow…slow down!"
He shushes you gently, admiring your insides. From that position, with your thighs pressed on your chest and your vulva spread open for him, he could see himself moving inside you, behind the small wall of flesh and nerves that was exploding in you.
When your orgasm erupted, which surprised him quite a lot even, he saw every muscle, every vein, and every inch of your inside contort and gasp. Your voice cracked a broken orgasm, mumbling something. with a thin voice and gasping sound.
You were exhausted, but when you felt his hips start to move again, you looked at him with a pleading look.
"P-Please, no more there! N-not my ass, please!"
"Just another round, let me come in here, just another…"
He continued for hours…
Tarik Torgaddon:
He swears he has never had sex in his life, but you can sniff the lies.
His character could have made him the first one coming to you, but he was surprisingly less abrasive in the matter. He took the matter with such lightness that, for a moment, you swore that he wasn't serious until he started to strip. It was more like he was trying to prepare you for what was coming, allowing you to take the lead, to touch him, to do as you please without fearing to go overboard. Not to mention that he was such a goofball that, sometimes, you forgot what you were doing until he started to pump his hips again.
"A-Aaaah…th-throne…"
His tongue kept on lapping against your clit, giving it a pause only to allow his lips to suck deeply. He helped himself by stretching the lower lips, allowing his muscle to get deeper and deeper, taking every drop of your fluids that was moisturizing your insides.
"Such a cute voice… Keep it up, princess; moan a little more for me, all right?"
From time to time he stopped everything, seeing your broken face looking down on him, that coy smile covered in arousal, only to then keep digging in your core, with the help of two fingers to stretch you a little more.
He has been lapping you for hours now, clearly enjoying that session of yours. He felt your little fingers on his head, trying to grasp some of his hair, but soon you retracted your trembling hands, opting to hold the covers of the bed. He stopped again, looking straight at your sorry expression again.
"You can hold it in; I won't end up like little Horus, you know?"
Your moan stops, and your eyes get wider.
You started to crack in a long, deep laugh, covering your face with your hands and rolling to the other side.
"T-Tariiik! AHAHAH! W-Why…why did you have to…? PPPFFF AHAHAHA!"
He just started to laugh with you, reaching your face and freeing it from your hands.
"Aww, my lady has such a nice laugh and fuckable moan! She's amazing!"
Garviel Loken:
He was the one that found less interest in this matter. He didn't need to do that, especially knowing who you were! His primarch gave him the concession, of course, but that was his wife! He had other ways to release himself.
Despite this part of him stopping him from indulging in his primal urges, the entire mournival decided that they needed to talk about their experiences with their lady, and this, and probably a wounded prude, decided to give it a shot, and oh boy, what had woken up.
His demeanor changed like night and day; from the serious captain of the tenth company, he became a love-struck puppy. His total and utter respect transformed into the desire of meeting you. He's addicted to your smell, your moan, and your small gasp of pleasure. Despite trying to reach the peak that he wished, he found himself more addicted to your own pleasure than he expected. Every time you made a sound, it was music, and he can't find himself satisfied if he can't feel your cunt struggle with his cock.
His hips keep pounding deeply, his hands holding your face so close to his own that he can feel your breath on his nose.
He helped your legs to stay hooked to his hips by holding you, ending by raising your pelvis up to allow himself to keep up with his assault.
Your nails were marking his shoulders, leaving small, thin red lines, and Emperor wished for once to not have a fast healing ability.
"Ga…gar…garviel…f-fuck, i-i'm…i'm close!"
Ah gasped when he felt your vulva contract around him, and his restraint started to loosen. His hands left your face, grasping your breast to allow him to suck and lick your buds.
Sejanus approached cautiously, his enhanced senses picking up your soft breathing and the faint scent of your arousal mixed with the alcohol. His cock twitched in his armor, already hardening at the sight of your form.
Carefully, he stroked your hair. The silky strands slipped through his fingers as he marveled at how delicate you seemed compared to his massive hand. You stirred slightly but didn't wake, your lips parting with a soft sigh.
That small sound was his undoing. Sejanus felt his control snap as lust overtook him. With practiced ease, he removed the lower half of his armor, freeing his massive cock. It sprang forth, already dripping with pre-cum, the head angry and purple with need.
He positioned himself at the edge of the bed, his cock level with your face. Gently, he used his thumb to part your lips. The warmth of your breath ghosted over his sensitive flesh, sending shivers down his spine.
Slowly, carefully, Sejanus eased the head of his cock into your mouth. Your lips stretched obscenely around his girth, barely able to accommodate even the tip. He groaned softly, fighting the urge to thrust deeper.
Your tongue moved unconsciously, lapping at the intruder in your mouth. The wet heat was exquisite, your small mouth providing delicious friction. Sejanus began to rock his hips ever so slightly, working more of his length into your welcoming orifice.
He marveled at the sight of your stretched lips, how tiny you looked compared to his massive frame. Your throat bulged visibly as he pushed deeper, the tight passage massaging his length.
Sejanus tangled his fingers in your hair, using it as an anchor as he fucked your mouth with slow, shallow thrusts. He was careful not to go too deep, not wanting to choke you and risk waking you up. The wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth filled the room, punctuated by his low groans of pleasure.
Pre-cum and saliva dribbled from the corners of your mouth, coating your chin and neck. The sight was obscene and beautiful, driving Sejanus wild with lust. He increased his pace slightly, feeling his orgasm building.
Your body responded even in sleep, your throat working to swallow around his intrusion. The rippling muscles sent waves of pleasure through Sejanus, drawing him closer and closer to the edge.
With a final, deep thrust, Sejanus came. His massive cock pulsed, pumping load after load of thick cum directly down your throat. He held himself there, buried in your mouth, as you unconsciously swallowed his seed.
When the last aftershocks faded, Sejanus carefully withdrew. A trail of cum and saliva connected his softening cock to your swollen lips. He watched, fascinated, as a small dribble of white escaped the corner of your mouth.
Using his thumb, Sejanus gently wiped away the evidence of his release. You stirred slightly, mumbling something unintelligible before settling back into deep sleep.
Horus Aximand
The scent of alcohol hung heavy in the air, mingling with your natural musk. Aximand's enhanced senses picked up every nuance, from the slight parting of your full lips to the gentle rise and fall of your chest. His cock stirred, straining against his armor.
With trembling hands, he removed his gauntlets, letting them fall to the floor with a muffled thud. You didn't stir. Emboldened, Aximand approached the bed, his towering form casting a shadow over your sleeping figure.
He reached out, calloused fingers ghosting along the soft curve of your cheek. A low groan escaped him at the contact. Your skin was silk beneath his touch, warm and inviting. He traced the line of your jaw, down the elegant column of your throat, feeling your pulse flutter beneath his fingertips.
Leaning down, Aximand pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss. He savored the taste of you, tongue darting out to explore. The lingering sweetness of wine mingled with something uniquely you. It was intoxicating.
His kisses grew more passionate, more demanding. He nipped at your lower lip, sucking it between his teeth. His hand slid lower, cupping your breast through the thin fabric of your robes. He felt your nipple harden against his palm, and a primal growl rumbled in his chest.
Aximand's other hand trailed down your body, pushing aside the folds of your garment to expose your smooth thighs. He caressed the soft skin there, inching ever closer to your core. When his fingers finally brushed against your pussy lips, he groaned at finding you already slick with arousal.
He circled your clit with his thumb, applying gentle pressure. Even in sleep, your body responded, your hips shifting slightly. Encouraged, Aximand slid a thick finger into your tight heat.
"Fuck," he breathed, feeling your walls clench around him. He pumped his finger slowly, adding a second to stretch you further. His thumb continued its assault on your clit, working in tandem to build your pleasure.
Your breathing quickened, soft whimpers escaping your parted lips. Aximand increased his pace, curling his fingers to hit that spot deep inside you. He leaned down, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss as he fingered you relentlessly.
Your body tensed, back arching off the bed as you came with a muffled cry. Aximand felt your pussy spasm around his fingers, coating them in your juices. He worked you through the orgasm, only slowing when you settled back onto the mattress with a contented sigh.
Withdrawing his hand, Aximand brought his glistening fingers to his lips. He inhaled deeply, savoring your musky scent before sucking them clean. The taste of you exploded across his tongue, and he groaned in satisfaction.
His cock throbbed painfully, demanding attention. There were so many things he wanted to do to your unconscious form. He imagined burying himself in your tight heat, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate his massive length. He pictured your small body bouncing on his lap as he fucked up into you mercilessly.
Aximand's hand drifted to the fastenings of his armor, ready to free his aching erection.
Tarik Torgaddon
The room spun around him as he steadied himself against the wall, his enhanced physiology already working to burn off the alcohol.
Your petite form sprawled across his bed, dead to the world. Your clothes were disheveled, barely covering your curves. The scent of alcohol wafted from your parted lips.
Torgaddon's cock hardened instantly, straining against his armor. With clumsy fingers, he began removing his gear, letting each piece clatter to the floor. His mind clouded with lust and booze, any thoughts of propriety or consent were washed away by a tidal wave of need.
You didn't stir as he roughly yanked your clothes off, tearing fabric in his haste. He paused for a moment to admire your body, so small and fragile compared to his Astartes frame.
Unable to wait any longer, Torgaddon grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach. He spread your ass cheeks, revealing your tight pussy. Without hesitation, he lined up his cock and slammed forward.
Your unconscious body jerked as Torgaddon's massive length forced its way inside your unprepared cunt. He groaned at the exquisite tightness, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his girth.
"So tight." he grunted, beginning to thrust with brutal force.
Each powerful stroke drove Torgaddon deeper, until he felt the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. The bed creaked and groaned under the assault, threatening to collapse from the Astartes' inhuman strength.
Your limp form bounced with each thrust, your small breasts jiggling. Drool leaked from your slack mouth, soaking the pillow beneath your face. Still, you didn't wake, your alcohol-induced stupor was too deep to penetrate.
Torgaddon's pace increased, his hips a blur as he rutted into your unresponsive body. Sweat dripped from his broad chest, landing on your back. He gripped your waist hard enough to leave bruises, using the leverage to drive even deeper.
The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by Torgaddon's grunts and groans. He could feel his orgasm building, a white-hot pressure in his balls.
With a moaning, Torgaddon hilted himself fully inside your pussy. His cock swelled and pulsed as he came, pumping rope after rope of thick cum directly into your womb. The sheer volume of his release caused your belly to visibly distend.
Garviel Loken
Loken shook his head, trying to clear the fog of alcohol and lust. This was wrong. He should wake you, get you back to your own quarters. But his feet carried him closer to the bed instead.
Up close, he could smell you, a heady mix of alcohol, sweat, and something uniquely you. His enhanced senses picked up every detail, the slight part of your lips, the flutter of your eyelashes, the pulse beating steadily at your throat.
Almost without realizing it, Loken found himself kneeling beside the bed. His face was level with your thigh now. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry. Just a taste, he told himself. Just to see if you tasted as good as you smelled.
With trembling hands, he pushed your skirt higher. His breath caught as your pussy came into view, already glistening with arousal. Had you been dreaming of this? Of him?
Loken's cock throbbed painfully. He fumbled with the clasps of his armor, freeing his massive erection. It jutted out proudly, nearly as thick as your slender arm and almost as long.
He wrapped a hand around his shaft, giving it a few slow strokes as he leaned in closer to your pussy. The scent was intoxicating. His tongue darted out, lapping tentatively at your outer lips.
A low groan escaped him. You tasted even better than he'd imagined, tangy and sweet and uniquely you. All thoughts of propriety fled as Loken buried his face between your thighs.
His tongue explored every fold and crevice, lapping up your juices like a man dying of thirst. He sucked your clit into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Even unconscious, your body responded. Your hips twitched, pressing against his eager mouth.
Loken's hand moved faster on his cock, precum leaking steadily from the tip. He was so hard it almost hurt. Part of him wanted nothing more than to bury himself in your tight heat, to fuck you until you woke screaming his name.
But no. This was already more than he should be doing. He wouldn't take it further.
Instead, he redoubled his efforts with his tongue. It is curling to find that spot that makes you gasp and moan in your sleep. His other hand flew over his cock, balls drawing up tight as his orgasm approached.
Your inner walls fluttered around his tongue. Were you close too? The thought pushed Loken over the edge. He came with a muffled roar, hot spurts of cum painting your thigh and the side of the bed.
As the aftershocks faded, guilt and shame flooded in. What had he done? He quickly wiped away the evidence of his release, tugging your skirt back into place.
He should leave. Find somewhere else to sleep and let you wake up none the wiser.
But as he stood to go, his cock twitched back to life….
Ezekyle Abaddon
>be Abaddon
>return to quarters after long day of purging xenos
They would be there in the morning. They were always there in the morning. They were four of the most dangerous men of the Sons of Horus and they had decided collectively with full commitment that you were theirs.
The first time you noticed something was off you told yourself you were imagining it.
It was small. Loken had walked you back to your quarters after a late briefing which was normal enough, he was polite like that, always the gentlest one. But then you'd mentioned offhand that you were thinking of requesting a transfer to a different fleet vessel, just for a change of pace and something in his face had gone very, very still.
"Why would you want to do that" he said. Not a question. Just four words, flat and quiet and his eyes didn't move off your face at all.
You laughed it off. He laughed it off too a moment later and it was fine.
You didn't put in the transfer request.
The Mournival was not supposed to have favorites. They were the Warmaster's counsel, his four sons in spirit if not in blood, the blunt instrument of his internal politics. They argued, they advised, they kept each other honest. That was the point of them.
You were a remembrancer. Technically. You'd been embedded with the 63rd Expedition for long enough that the distinction had gotten blurry. You knew the Sons of Horus better than most of the Legion's own serfs did. You'd eaten meals with them. You'd sat in on arguments that should have gotten you killed just for witnessing.
You understood in retrospect by now that was probably where the problem started.
Aximand was the subtle one.
He never said anything outright. He'd just appear reliably whenever you were somewhere you probably shouldn't have been or whenever someone else was talking to you for too long. He had this way of inserting himself into a conversation that felt completely natural until you thought about it afterward and realized he'd redirected the entire thing without anyone noticing. Including you.
You'd been getting friendly with one of the iterators, a perfectly nice man named Castor who had interesting opinions about Terran philosophy and very kind eyes. Three conversations in Aximand had joined the third one and somehow by the end of it Castor had volunteered himself for a particularly demanding documentation assignment on a different ship.
When you mentioned to Aximand that you hadn't seen Castor lately he shrugged with complete serenity.
"He seemed ambitious" he said. "I helped him find an opportunity."
You believed him. You don't know why you believed him. You think about that a lot now.
Torgaddon was the one who made it hardest to be scared.
He was funny. Genuinely funny and he'd clearly figured out early on that making you laugh was the fastest route to making you comfortable and he used that knowledge the way a surgeon uses a blade.
He'd started finding reasons to be wherever you were working. Just sitting nearby and not bothering you, sometimes reading, sometimes just existing in your peripheral vision like a very large and heavily armored piece of furniture. When you pointed this out he grinned like you'd said something delightful.
"You're the most interesting person on this ship" he said. "The others are all the same, I've known them for decades, they're boring. You're new."
"I've been here for three years" you said.
"Still newer than decades" he said and reached over and stole a piece of your food like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But you'd seen him once when he didn't know you were watching. You'd come around a corner and he was speaking quietly to two junior remembrancers who'd recently asked to spend time with you for a collaborative project. Whatever he was saying they looked uncomfortable. One of them had nodded quickly, the way you nod when you want a conversation to be over.
The project got quietly shelved. Neither of them would quite meet your eyes after that.
The one you should have been most afraid of was Abaddon and to your credit some part of you always knew it.
He was the most honest about it in his way. Abaddon didn't bother with subtlety because he didn't see the need for it. He operated on the assumption that what he wanted was simply what would happen and he looked at you with this calm, total attention that made your skin feel too small.
"You're going to stay" he told you once completely unprompted while you were reviewing some footage from a compliance action.
You looked up. "What?"
"With the expedition. You're going to stay." He said it the same way he'd say the sun rises in the east. "I've been thinking about it. The others have been thinking about it. You belong here."
"I don't think that's really your decision" you said carefully.
He looked at you for a long moment. There was nothing threatening in his expression. There was nothing in his expression at all actually which was somehow worse.
"No" he agreed and went back to what he was doing.
You had the very strong and very irrational feeling that the matter was, in his mind, closed.
The thing was that they were kind to you. That was the part that kept you off balance, kept you second guessing your own instincts. They were attentive and generous and protective in ways that felt good, felt safe right up until the moment you bumped up against the edges of what they would allow and then it got cold very fast.
You'd asked once directly and looking at all four of them because some perverse instinct told you that was safer than asking alone, whether they'd been interfering with your communications. Just your communications. Just to see.
The silence lasted about three seconds.
"Define interfering" Torgaddon said pleasantly.
"Why would we do that" said Aximand.
"Your communications are your own" said Loken and he sounded like he meant it and his eyes were steady and sincere and gave you absolutely nothing.
Abaddon didn't say anything at all. He was looking at you the way you might look at something you own.
You said never mind. You laughed a little. You let it go.
What else were you going to do? Where were you going to go?
That was the thing they understood, the thing that sat at the bottom of all of it like a stone. They were the Mournival. They were four of the most dangerous men of the Sons of Horus and they had decided collectively with full commitment that you were theirs.
You were very far from home.
And they were very, very patient.
The last thing Loken said to you that night while walking you back to your quarters again was quiet and almost gentle.
"You seem worried lately" he said. "You should tell us if something's wrong. We'd want to know."
"I'm fine" you said.
He smiled. It was a warm smile, a genuine one and that was the most unsettling thing about Loken that he could mean it completely and still be what he was.
"Good" he said. "That's good. We'd hate for anything to upset you."
He waited until you were inside with the door closed before he left.
You stood in the dark for a while and thought about the transfer request you'd never filed and the iterator with the kind eyes who'd gone somewhere else and the way Abaddon had said you belong here like it was geography.
They would be there in the morning. They were always there in the morning.
Then you got into bed because there was nothing else to do.
Some silly headcanons about the boys that occurred to me as I was writing my own versions of the 2nd and 11th primarchs- in no particular order.
The primarchs don't all look much like their parents (for several valid reasons up to and including warp shenanigans when they were all stolen), but they do resemble each other quite a bit.
Without his wings, Sanguinius can easily be mistaken for Fulgrim- this happens a lot when looking at portraits of their faces next to each other.
Leman, Konrad, Angron, Perturabo, and Mortarion make the same noise when they're unhappy. Something like a low grumble somewhere deep in their chest. It's not the exact same, but it's similar enough.
Corvus and Sanguinius both have something closer to a nest than a bed- something with a lot of pillows and blankets that they can burrow into for safety and comfort
Perturabo and Ferrus have a similar cadence to their voice that can even confuse their own sons sometimes if they can't see which man is speaking
Without their armor, Lion and Roboute have been confused for each other from behind on several occasions
Konrad, Corvus, and Mortarion look the most alike next to Sanguinius and Fulgrim
Angron and Vulkan are the best with babies and animals (I don't make the rules)
Jaghatai, Leman, Horus, Roboute, and 11 have the same laugh (amused huffs and chuckles don't count here I mean a real laugh)
Konrad's cackling laugh is just for show because he hates his real one and is certain others will, too
They all have the same pout face
Sanguinius and Corvus can mimic the voices of their brothers with near perfect accuracy...and so can Alpharius and Omegon
2 is practically a carbon copy of the Emperor physically
11, Roboute, Perturabo, and Rogal are all left handed
Corvus, Sanguinius, Konrad, Leman, Magnus, and 2 all tilt their head the same way when they're confused
Lorgar, Roboute, and Mortarian have similar handwriting
Magnus and Konrad both talk to themselves
All of them are extremely competitive and will absolutely accept any challenge if worded the right way
Magnus, Roboute, Konrad, and Sanguinius can all sleep with their eyes open
Touchstarved primarchs (and astartes lets be so real) that don't realize they're touchstarved.
It's something they just don't think about. They're made for war and politics, nothing more. The only "touch" they "need", is the occasional helping hand.
But then you show up with your soft everything, and all of that goes out the window.
The first time you caress their face, they start shaking a little, suddenly very unsure how to even breathe. Their hearts beat a million times a minute, and they are reminded of their very much working anatomy (if you catch my meaning).
They melt into you, aching for more more more.
They want your palm petting their head, your fingers tracing scars and augmentations, your warmth and weight sprawled across their chest or back.
It's a persistent, ever-growing need that they aren't equipped to handle, so do be patient while they figure out their limits, will you?
Horus x Fem!Reader based on this idea. The romance is light, since the focus is mostly elsewhere, but it exists if you squint. Anyway, enjoy.
Was going to do this all in one but I decided to split it into two instead okay bye
Despite what everyone thought, your life wasn't exactly glamorous as Lady Lupercal. Sure, Horus was kind to you, but there was always a tension that you could never shake. A weight pressing down on you that made it hard to stand.
It had been a purely political move, your imperfect marriage. The Emperor had been poked and prodded by Terran nobles about such things for years, and he'd always shoo them away or ignored them. But now that he had eighteen perfect sons, the demands got louder. He wasn't a man to be easily swayed, but he'd finally ceded- just a little.
One son, and after that there would be no more consideration on the matter regardless of if, when, or how it ended.
The Warmaster had been the one to volunteer for this ever daunting task. He was his father's favorite, after all, so it only made sense that it was he who stepped up to the plate. There had been whispers that the warmhearted and beautiful Sanguinius had also raised his hand in that meeting, but the only people who know for sure are the Emperor and his sons.
It had been like an ancient fairytale. The Emperor threw a party grander than any most people had ever seen, and had let Horus pick any eligable candidate he wanted. Why that so happened to be you, though, remains a mystery.
Your wedding had been surprisingly simple, and very fast. Horus was a busy man who had little time for ceremony. There were vows, he'd kissed your hand, then you were taken and dumped in his home and told to stay. You weren't even given any real duties for the first handful of weeks. The serfs claimed it was because you were technically in a honeymoon period, but you knew better. There was nothing for you to do at first. Horus was so efficient in running his own affairs that there had never been a need for a secondary person- even while he was away.
And he was away often.
You saw him for only a handful of days at a time, and they were almost never in succession. Even when he was home with you, he was a rare sight. He did not go out of his way to seek you out, and there was never any sharing of a bed. The most you typically saw of him was of the back of his shoulders.
You didn't love Horus Lupercal, but you didn't hate him either. It was hard to feel such a strong emotion towards a man you never saw, and you were just fine with that. You told yourself often that it was easier to watch him leave you when you didn't desperately want for him to stay. There was no affection from him, only distant kindness.
His sons were a different story entirely.
For the majority of them, you barely existed. You were their father's wife, but you didn't matter to them like Horus did- they often forgot you were even there half the time, and when they did remember, they were even more distant and cold towards you than your husband. The rest of the household- staff and whatnot- were quick to follow their example.
But out of all of them, the Mournival were the worst. They hated you. And they made sure you knew it as often as possible.
Aximand ignored you. He looked past you when you spoke, acting as if he hadn't heard you even though you knew he had, and you'd gotten more than a few bruises from him practically running you over in hallways. The only time he really spoke to you, was to snap at you for being in his way.
Loken and Torgeddon were awful in the way all two-faced people were. They smiled and nodded along while you spoke, pretending to listen and agree with you, only to turn around and whisper cruelties when you weren't watching. The only difference is that they didn't care if you heard them.
And Abbadon? To him, you were worse than any parasite or xenos. You burdened him just by existing and breathing the same air, and nothing you did made it any better. In fact, any attempts at speaking to him only seemed to make him angrier. You considered yourself lucky that he wasn't foolish enough to put his hands on you. Not that he needed to- his words were sharp enough to cut you open.
You never say anything about it to Horus- though you've thought about it many times. You're not sure he would really care. He may get angry, may punish them, but it would only be because their behavior made him look bad, not because your life and happiness really meant anything to him.
So you kept it quiet, and just tried to avoid his four favorite sons as often as possible.
-
The door to your personal office opens without any warning, and you can feel the headache forming before your unruly stepson opens his mouth.
"Here," Abaddon dumps a large box onto your desk.
"What is this?" You ask, hesitantly.
"A gift from my father. Be grateful- you don't deserve it."
He doesn't wait to hear your response, turning on his heel and stomping off like he always does when forced to interact with you. But despite his sour attitude, you were actually a little excited.
Inside the box is a cloak of white fur similar to the wolf pelt your husband wore around his own shoulders. It's soft to the touch, and made to fit you perfectly.
Tucked in the bottom of the box is a small piece of paper with a simple note written neat handwriting.
Keep yourself warm. -H
A smile touches your lips. You'd made a comment last time you spoke with Horus about the nights getting cold. You knew it wasn't out of love, but you appreciated his attempts at keeping you comfortable nonetheless.
You ignore the stares that follow you as you head back to your rooms that evening, your wonderful gift wrapped around yourself. Perhaps it was a bit too prideful of you to flaunt it, but could anyone honestly blame you? Gifts from your husband were extremely rare- it only made sense that you showed it off a little.
It doesn't matter that Loken snorts when he sees you. Doesn't matter when you hear Torgeddon mutter that you look ridiculous. Doesn't matter that the first time Aximand looks at you in months is in disgust and annoyance.
-
You've been losing a lot of things recently, now that you think about it. First it was small- a pen, some small accessories you brought from home, makeup, and at some point you even lost your own hairbrush. But now, it's gotten worse.
The bracelet Horus gifted you on your wedding day. Clothing. Shoes. Other jewelry. The beautiful fur cloak. Things that made it look like you were slowly packing yourself up to disappear, should anyone look closely enough. You were never this careless with your things before, and as bigger and bigger items start to go missing, a worse and worse feeling grows in your chest.
You're going to have to tell someone. And soon. But your list of contacts within this house is painfully small, and any communication you have with your family or anyone else outside is highly monitored. Even if you didn't tell them, the Mournival would hear about it- then you would never hear the end of it.
They already thought you undeserving of everything you had, this was only going to exacerbate the problem.
But if you didn't tell anyone, if you kept this to yourself like you keep the bullying and unkindnesses of the people in this house to yourself, it would only make you look guilty of something when someone finally noticed. Guilty of cowardace, of betraying the husband you barely knew, of being everything everyone here thought of you.
Informing Horus was out of the question entirely. Not only was he not even home, but as Lady Lupercal, it was your responsibility to keep things in check. To keep staff under control and make sure everything stays at his perfectly strict standards. Telling him that someone was stealing from you was only going to cause you embarrassment, or worse- make him disappointed in you.
That left you with only one unsavory option. You had to tell the Mournival yourself, before they found out through someone else.
-
"Aximand!"
He doesn't stop. He doesn't even slow his pace.
"Aximand please! It's important! Just give me a moment-!"
He turns the corner. You stop following him, wondering why you even tried in the first place.
Because telling Abaddon is basically suicide, your mind unhelpfully reminded you. And considering he and the man who'd just abandoned you in the hallway were the only two of the four sons currently here, Aximand had been your only option. He still is your only option.
You take a breath, gather yourself a little, and start off after him once again.
He's fast, but then again, he's also significantly larger than you, making his casual stride enough on it's own to outpace you with annoying ease. Stars above, you hated it. Hated how you had to chase him. He didn't even need to stop- you only wished he would slow down enough for you to catch him, wished he would just pay attention to you for once.
What a childish thought, you tell yourself bitterly. You were a lady. You were the lady. You should be handling yourself with more poise, more decorum. You should raise your voice and order him to pull his head out of his ass long enough to hear what you had to say. Remind him of who you were, and maybe even threaten him with his father should he continue to refuse.
Yet here you were. The wife of Horus Lupercal, the woman who was only good at sitting pretty and taking up space- who only pretended to have authority- chasing after a man who had so little interest in you that you may as well be invisible. How embarrassing.
"Aximand-!" Your call of his name ends in a yelp, as you manage to trip over your own feet in your hurry to reach him. Pain shoots up your leg, your ankle throbbing. Horus' son still does not falter. You watch him disappear once again from view, leaving you to handle your injury yourself.
You sit there for perhaps a handful of seconds too long, but you do eventually pull yourself up. It hurts to stand, and hurts even worse to walk- there would definitely be no catching Aximand now. Using the wall as support, you begin limping back towards your rooms, deciding that it was better to rest and hope you were well enough tomorrow to try again.
Or you would, had you not collided face-first with your most spiteful stepson.
What kind of awful luck were you having today?!
"Abaddon-" You look away when he scowls at the sound of his name coming from you. "Excuse me."
You try to shuffle around, but his form blocks your way.
"What happened?" He practically spits the question at you.
"Nothing."
He scoffs, looking you up and down.
"What did you do to yourself?"
Yes, you think, because everything must be my own fault. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that your brother cannot be polite enough to stop when I yell for him.
"I fell."
"What are you, a child still learning to walk?"
Something in you finally breaks, just a little.
"That's enough!" You snap. "If all you have to say are useless cruelties then find yourself elsewhere! I have better things to do than be accosted by an impolite astartes!"
Abaddon blinks, eyebrows shooting upwards in what appears to be genuine surprise. You'd never raised your voice at anyone- most especially him of all people. You can see the wheels turning in his head, but you don't wait to find out what he has to say in response. You use his momentary mental imbalance to squeeze past him, and keep moving.
You don't make it far.
The sharp Hah! that comes from him is your only warning before you're unceremoniously ripped from the ground and tossed over his massive shoulder.
"Hey!" You gasp, panic flooding your whole system. "What do you think you're doing?!"
"Taking you to get treated." It doesn't matter how much you struggle, his grip on you is impossible to wiggle free from.
"Stop it! Put me down right now! Ezekyle Abaddon! I am not a toy!"
"No," For once, he agrees with you. "You are my father's foolish, useless wife who can barely carry her own weight without hurting herself."
Your face burns with embarrassment and frustration.
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself!"
That, and all other protest goes ignored as he carries you away. The heavy gazes of other astartes and servants alike sit heavily upon you, and it drives you insane how little it affects him. Because he wasn't who they were staring at, he wasn't who was being judged for his behavior, for his pathetic need for assistance.
No, it was all directed at you. It was always directed at you.
-
You're surprised by the appearance of your husband at your bedroom door. You hadn't even been told he was going to be home- though to be fair, you had been borderline hiding in here for the past several days.
He smiles at you, and insists you sit.
"I heard you had some trouble," He says, and you already know what exactly he means. "How bad is it?"
"It's really not that bad- I just took a bit of a tumble," You offer him a smile in return. Horus was kind to you, more than you really deserved considering what a shit job you were doing as his lady.
He kneels, lowering himself so you don't have to strain so hard to look at him, and reaches to take your foot in his hand to inspect it for himself. It's shockingly intimate, and has you turning pink, your heart beating faster than normal.
You try to remind yourself that he holds no affection for you, that he is only kind because that's simply who he is. But it's hard to do so when his touch is so gentle it makes you think he's genuinely worried he might break you, or when he warms your bruised ankle with his hands as if he, alone, can heal you.
It's hard to remember Horus doesn't love you when he's looking at you like that.
Curse your delicate heart- curse your desire for closeness with the one person in this house who you should be close to. Curse his ability to make people fall under his spell simply by existing in their space.
"You're cold," His voice rattles you back to reality. "Where is your coat, I'll fetch it for you."
You flinch and look away from him, pulling yourself from his warm grasp. He doesn't stop you, which somehow makes the guilt eating at you even worse. He says your name. Patient, but firm. He asked a question, and he expects an answer.
"I…" Stars, what did you even say? You'd failed to tell anyone about your theft issue, and now your literal worse-case scenario is on his knees at your feet waiting for you to admit to your failure. You wanted to cry. "I don't…know…"
Horus is silent for a long moment.
"You don't. Know."
You wonder if you can get to the window and throw yourself out of it faster than he can stop you. You decide that no, you most likely can't. And even if you did, something tells you one of his sons would manage to catch you before you hit the ground.
"I…it…" You try to look anywhere but at him, and find your eyes settling on Abaddon, hovering in the doorway. When he got there, and how long he's been there you have no idea. He likely followed your husband, and has been waiting for him to finish with you this whole time. But somehow, the confession spills out of you easier. "Someone…took it. Someone has been taking…a lot…of my things…"
Abaddon goes very still. You think he might even stop breathing for a moment.
"For how long?" Horus asks.
You shift your gaze to the floor.
"A while…"
You catch the way Horus turns to look at his son from the corner of your eye. He doesn't ask anything of him, nor does he need to. Abaddon already knows.
"This is the first I'm hearing of it," He's quick to defend himself. "The lady hasn't said a single word about anything going missing."
Horus hums, and returns his attention to you. Again, he asks no verbal question, but his inquiry sits in the air between you regardless.
I tried to tell someone! You want to scream. No one listens! No one cares!
"I…" You hate how your voice shakes. "It- they're m-my belongings, a-and it's my duty to keep things in order. I- I didn't want to burden your sons wh-when they're already so busy."
It's a weak excuse only made weaker by your inability to look him in the eye, finding a scuff on the floor much more fascinating than whatever expression he or his son might be wearing on their faces.
Horus lets out a hard breath through his nose and stands. Once on his feet, he hooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head back to look up at him. The way the light illuminates him from this angle is an almost surreal reminder of his ethereality. A giant of a man, made by the Emperor of Mankind himself to be perfect in every way.
"Rest. I will see it handled."
He leaves no room for argument.
-
Abaddon doesn't yell at you when he returns later for more information about the theft. Somehow, that makes it even worse than if he did.
"Is that all of them?" He flips through the list of people you'd given him that could in theory get close enough to you in order to steal. He hadn't asked about what exactly was missing, though you're certain it doesn't necessarily matter in this case- if they found the culprit, they'd find their stash.
"Yes," You mumble.
He turns, making his way towards the door in the usual fashion. Except this time he pauses just before stepping over the threshold.
"You should have said something. My brothers and I were reprimanded because of your secrecy."
You let his words sit between you for a moment, your gaze finding your sore ankle.
"What would have been the point?" You ask, voice low. "The only reason you care now is because Horus does."
His hands ball into tight fists, whatever sharp remark he was preparing dying before it can escape him. He leaves you in silence.
-
Abaddon has been more attentive in recent days. You wouldn't go as far as to call him kind, but his immediate aggression towards you has somewhat faded.
You don't know if it's because he is actually starting to care, or if it's just because he's under orders from his father to look after you better. Regardless, he's become a more solid figure than he was before. He's still short with you, still glares and rolls his eyes and makes faces, but at least now he seems to listen when you speak.
You take your wins where you can get them. They're hard to come by in the Lupercal household.
There has been no word about the thief. No news as to whether they've been caught, or if any of your things have been found, and Horus has not been back to see you since that night. Not that you really expected him to, it wasn't like it was out of character for him to visit and vanish. It stopped bothering you rather early in this arrangement.
The person his absence does seem to bother, oddly enough, is Abaddon.
Whenever there is mention of Horus not coming to you, his face twists in an unpleasant way, and he lets out a huff before muttering to himself words that you can never quite catch. It confuses you, and he refuses to humor any of your questioning about it, always snapping that it was nothing, and to mind your own business.
It's almost endearing, in a way. It makes him seem so much more…human to you. And much less like an unfeeling jackass who wants you dead. Sometimes, it even makes you laugh, which has your rude, unruly stepson turning red and yelling at you to shut up.
-
You're practically vibrating with excitement, despite how desperately hard you're trying to remain calm. Your fingers rake through long hair that you never even imagined you'd be allowed to touch, catching a few stray tangles here and there. It was to be expected with hair of this length, but you still offered soft apologies every time.
Abaddon simply grunts in response.
It had been shockingly easy to get him to sit down and allow this, and a fairly large part of you is certain it will never happen again. But the two of you have gotten…well, you're not sure close is the right word, but at least he didn't seem to completely despise you anymore. If anything, you were little more than a mild annoyance to him these days.
Three very long months of dedication to forming some kind of genuine relationship with your husband's favored son was finally paying off. The other three hadn't come around yet, but they were getting curious, you could tell.
Loken started to linger in common areas where you were. Torgeddon actually asked your opinion on something and took it seriously. And Aximand steps to the side when you meet in the halls- though that one could be because Abaddon has taken to following you most places.
Part of you doesn't care if the other three sons in the Mournival ever fully decide you're not a waste of space. Part of you is just glad one of them has changed his mind.
You separate his hair into three even sections, and begin braiding it, humming softly as you do so.
It had started as him coming to inform you of Horus' expected return in a handful of days. His most recent campaign had been rather short, and apparently he was actually going to stick around for longer than normal.
You'd thanked Abaddon, and as he'd turned to escape, you'd spotted it.
"What is in your hair?" You'd asked. He'd stopped, and lifted his hand to touch his hair, frowning a bit.
"Dirt."
"That looks like more than dirt- were you sleeping outside?"
The way his eyes cut to the side told you that you're correct.
"No," He'd lied anyway. "I was training with my brothers."
"Ah huh. Come here and sit down, I'll fix it for you."
His face had twisted.
"I don't need-"
"Abaddon. Sit."
It was thanks to him that you'd started to assert yourself a little better, and it always felt good when he listened. He'd stomped over to you, sat himself on the floor with his arms crossed, and let out an annoyed huff.
You were supposed to be working on some basic household administration work, but this was much more fun.
"It's so long," You mused to yourself. "Honestly, I'm a little surprised you keep it like this."
"I like it," He grumbles. You let out a light chuckle.
"I like it, too. It suits you."
"Shut up." You laugh again at his words, tying off the braid and patting him on the shoulder to signal that you were finished.
"Be gone, you. I've things to do and you've distracted me long enough."
He turns to look at you, offended. The giggles that escape you frustrate him more the longer it takes for you to calm yourself back down. He lurches to his feet, glaring at you, the tips of his ears the slightest bit red in embarrassment at being successfully teased.
He stomps out without another word, leaving you to your amusement.
-
It's late- you should have turned in hours ago. But you'd had more work than you realized, and had ended up working well past your usual time. You shuffle through the halls on the way back to your bedroom when voices filter through the silence.
Creeping closer to the source of the voices, you realize quickly that it's the four members of the Mournival, tucked alone in the dining hall. You press yourself to the wall just outside the cracked door and listen despite knowing that you should probably keep walking.
"-just don't get how you can stand it," Loken is saying. "If I had to spend every day with her, I think I'd go insane."
"Enlighten us then. How has our fine Lady Lupercal managed to sway you to her side?"
You perk up a bit and listen closer, curious as well of what his answer might be.
"Our father adores that woman. Yet she refuses to see him while claiming he never actually visits, and every gift he's sent has managed to end up 'missing' somewhere we can't find any of it. I'm not swayed, I'm staying close so that I can make sure she doesn't cause further harm to our father or his house."
What was he saying? What did he mean Horus adored you? He was never around! You never refused to see him- not once! If anything, though you are loath to admit it even to yourself, you missed him when he wasn't around. And it wasn't your fault your things had been stolen!
Was it really all a lie? A play he was acting in just so that he could expose some wickedness in you that didn't exist?
No- no that couldn't be it. There had to be something else going on- a misunderstanding or- or-
"If she vanished tomorrow, I wouldn't even blink."
You don't remember getting back to your room after that. The journey is a blur of tears and muffled sobs that you pray none of them heard.
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