Summary: A drowning diver finds herself being rescued by an unlikely, fascinating creature. It's the start of something wonderful.
Or: You've heard of swimming with the fishes, but we'll be flirting with them here. Mer primarch AU inspiration comes from @nightlordlover, I'm just playing with the concept a little. I hope you enjoy!
Relationship: Mer!Sanguinius/Fem!human
Warnings: Descriptions of injury, blood, and near drowning
It had been a calculated risk.
Such is the very nature of scavenging, in the end. It's a nicely profitable venture, if one has the skill and the spine for it, but a dangerous one nonetheless. This goes doubly so for any mostly unexplored areas- which this rusting, waterlogged carcass of a city most definitely falls under.
So yes, it was a calculated risk, she thinks with barely suppressed panic as another wave washes over hear head, but the odds seem to have aligned against her today.
The loop of jagged, metallic wire cuts deeper into her leg as she strains just a bit further out of the water, gasping for a breath that feels like nowhere near enough before diving down again. In the morning sun's punishing light, she watches as the knife that could have been her salvation continues on its merry way to the cluttered sea floor. If it hadn't slipped out of her trembling fingers, that is.
Another mistake on her part, the last of a long line which started by her coming here in the first place - but one which might very well lead to her death.
She tries to reach for it anyway, swims down on muscles that don't quite respond properly anymore. It's in vain. The wire - or cable, or whatever it is - does not let her move far enough, her only reward for the attempt being an agonizing stab of pain in the muscle of her calf. Only years of experience stop her from crying out, and losing what little air she has in the process.
Pushing herself back up to the surface after takes staggering effort. With every attempt to cut free, to untangle herself, she weakens.
The barbed metal hadn't cut through anything important, but it had sliced deep and tangled tightly. With every second, her lifeblood leaks away into the uncaring ocean; every dive tires her more and more. It's an almost clinical realization, in the back of her mind- she will most likely die here, today.
The thought is awful in its intensity, sharp and staggering.
Despite the wars which ruined the world, plenty stories of old remain. Of those, many tell the tales of hubris and its consequences, of greed driving people to their deaths. Of reaching too far, and plummeting down.
She thinks she'll be joining them soon- though there will be little left to tell her story. Only her little boat, anchored only a few dozen meters away. Only the gap in the local community, soon to be filled by someone new. Just another fisher-scavenger, like hundreds of others.
Her death, as unimportant as theirs.
Her vision swims. Her lungs ache, even as she dives down again and again, cutting her bare hands on the wire to no avail. She will fight until the end- but it appears that end is approaching fast, despite her best efforts. With every moment, the tide rises, submerging her deeper beneath the waves.
Then- something in the water shifts.
It's only a feeling at first; unidentifiable, yet oddly tangible, as if the sea herself is holding her breath. A sudden, overwhelming knowledge she is not alone anymore.
She sees it, then, in between two desperate, too-short breaths. A glint in the water, the shadow of something enormous- below her, beside her, all around her. She only gets a second to feel properly terrified about it before a powerful wave pulls her under.
Despite the scratched surface of her goggles, the giant, inhuman face staring back at her stands out clearly in her vision. Her astonished gaze collides with a pair of large, dark irises, surrounded by crimson-flecked gold. Equally as golden hair wreathes its head like a halo, along with blood-red fins lining the sides of its face.
She does not get the time to study the creature any more, because its hands - enormous and clawed and suddenly shockingly close - begin reaching for her leg.
An instinctive fright drives her to flinch away, as fruitless as it is with her still trapped in place, but the hands do not dig in, do not tear at flesh or rend bone from bone. Instead, they grab for the sharp wire on two sides of her calf. They wrap around it, and tug.
Beneath the strength of the sea creature's hands, the solid metal snaps in two, sliding out of her flesh with a flash of white-hot pain. It makes her breath catch, stinging seawater invading her mouth as she desperately kicks up to the surface-
And breaches the waves with gasp, free at last.
Then she's breathing, coughing and wheezing, her lungs fighting for the air they'd been denied for far too long. As she hacks up the water out of her airways, weak and pained and so, so relieved she could cry, she distantly feels large, long fingers wrapping gently, deliberately around her waist. Supporting her. She does not fight to flee them, this time.
It takes her a long minute to catch her breath. Her body trembles and her eyes water, but she is alive, alive. Alive against all odds, and all thanks to…
She knows what she'll see when she looks up, more or less, but the sight of it - of him, probably - still makes her stiffen.
It's not her first time seeing a mer. She'd never been nearly so close to one before - she isn't stupid enough to risk that - but she'd gotten a few decent looks over the years. The bright, arterial red of this one's long, sharp ear fins and scales is distantly familiar, in that she'd seen this - species? variant? - before. But that's about where the familiarity end.
For one, he is much bigger. Far too big to be one of the regular examples of his kind, even from just the parts she can properly see. If he were a man, he would most likely be twice her height, at the very least. Being what he is, his toned torso instead trails off into crimson scales and a long, elegant tail, the shadow of which she can see curving below the two of them, the appendage easily three times her own length. A giant, spiny dorsal fin juts out of his back, and what seems to be several others lining his tail, the red of it speckled with what looks shockingly close to real gold.
His face is large as well, elegant in a way that reads as distinctly other in a way she struggles to put into words. The entirety of his physique is subtly wrong in multiple ways, like a blind artist having drawn a man on description alone- though he is by no means ugly, her oxygen-deprived brain cannot help but note.
No, quite the opposite. The creature, the mer, is astonishingly, inhumanly, staggeringly beautiful.
It would be mesmerizing, were it not for the look in his eyes. While his expression is neutral, perhaps even friendly, there is something behind his gaze that sets her carefully honed instincts on edge- and she isn't about to disregard it. It's kept her alive for this long.
"You should take more care with your safety, little one" he says then, those uncomfortably sharp eyes tracing over her features, making their own inspection of her in turn. She is surprised to find his voice is unnaturally dual-toned, though still oddly pleasant, the sound of it thrumming through her bones despite the low volume. Human speech does not seem to come naturally to him, either- his words are carefully pronounced and accented, and the same tension she saw in his eyes carries through his voice as well.
It's enough to put her on edge, and she is quick to reply. not wanting to earn her unexpected savior's ire.
"I promise I'm usually more graceful with my work," she says, trying for a small, grateful smile. It mostly even works, though she's sure there's something of a nervous edge to it. "Still, thank you for helping me. And, ah… sorry if I intruded on your territory."
The mer blinks, the sun gleaming off of his golden lashes. "You have nothing to apologize for. Neither me nor mine hold any claim to this area," he says. "There is little of interest for us here, and both my sons and I tend to avoid the sunken shallows."
It's her turn to be surprised now, her brow raising. "Why were you here, then?" she asks. If he hadn't been nearby to hear her splashing about, how could he have even found her.
In response, the mer's pretty face stiffens, his expression twisting slightly with what almost looks like shame- and suddenly, she has a strong suspicion as to what the answer will be. "Ah," he pauses, seemingly fighting with his words before continuing, "you have been bleeding a fair amount, and-"
Everything suddenly clicks into place. "You wanted to eat me!" she exclaims.
The giant's expression turns outright sheepish then. His shoulders seem to hunch in on themselves under her gaze, and he looks, for all intents and purposes, like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
"I did not know you were a person," he defends himself, his melodious voice quietly subdued; filled with what she now recognizes as tension coming from restraint, and no lack of shame. A struggle against his own predatory instincts. "Only once I got closer did I see what you are, and took notice of your plight."
He looks into her eyes, then; there is something pained beneath his gaze, almost pleading. "I know you have no reason to trust in my word, but I would not kill a person purely for sustenance. Not like this. I mean you no harm."
"But you are hungry," she says bluntly, studying his frame with new eyes. His pupils are large and dilated, even in the sun's bright light, similar in appearance to a feline with prey in its sights. She sees the way he refuses to look near the water, where her leg still sluggishly bleeds into the ocean; the way his breath is too even, and just a little too shallow. How he struggles against himself.
His lips twist into a small, mirthless smile. His mouth is carefully closed as he does so. "Always," he says, as if divulging a painful secret.
And- this should disturb her, she knows. It should scare her. She should ask this creature to let go of her immediately, clamber onto her boat and leave as quickly as her fraying sails will carry her. He may not want to hurt her in this very moment, but he is still dangerous. Lethal, if he wished to be.
And yet, something within her chest settles instead, her previous wariness mostly fading. He was honest, she cannot help but note. And he helped her. He could have easily killed her, too, fed himself on her flesh, but this clearly predatory being chose to save her life instead.
It's not a crime, that a carnodon must hunt to live, and neither is this gentle giant at fault for his hunger. She cannot, will not, blame him for being what he is. Not when he has chosen to be kind in spite of it.
And besides- as people have pointed out over the years, she has always been too daring for her own good.
"Well," she says after a moment, a small but genuine smile quirking up her lips as she pats one of the arms keeping her afloat, "I appreciate the restraint, then. It's been quite nice, not dying today."
Whatever response the giant may have expected, this was clearly not on the list. The mer's eyes widen, his lips - shockingly soft looking, something in her brain cannot help but note - falling slack. Then he throws his head back, overcome with sudden, startled laughter.
And- oh, she thinks faintly, suddenly face to face with a mouth full of blades.
The mer's front teeth are mostly flat, not too far from human standard except for their size, but that's where the resemblance ends. Where a man's incisors would sit, a little pointed at best, this being has fangs. Long and visibly sharp, they resemble something a mythical blood drinker might posses, except at a scale those fairy tale monsters could only dream of. His molars are pointed as well, serrated at the edges and clearly meant for killing.
The teeth of an apex predator, she thinks, and some electric feeling slides down her spine.
However - and she curses herself for that particular bit of foolishness too - it's not entirely fear she feels, when she looks at them. They look lethal, certainly, but they also look…
The mer - and oh, she really has to ask his name at some point - is quick to put a hand over his mouth once he sees her looking, hiding those sharp, lethal looking fangs from her sight, and she tells herself she's not disappointed by that. His mirth is contagious, though, and she cannot help but grin as well, her comparatively much less impressive teeth on display.
…Well. Nevermind that, now. She banishes those odd thoughts to the back of her mind, trying to dispel the warmth crawling up her cheeks before it begins to show.
When he removes his hand, the small, closed mouthed smile is back in place, though it seems a lot more genuine this time around. His eyes seem to be studying her with a new intensity, roving over her features in a way that makes her feel seen down to her very soul. It does not feel predatory this time, nor dangerous. Just- warm.
It's an odd feeling. She doesn't dislike it.
Whatever it is, he snaps out of it soon enough. "Let me get you to safety, now," he says suddenly, decisively ending whatever little moment they were having there. He gestures with his head to where her boat still sits, only a few meters away, the vague length of his tail moving beneath them. "Would you like me to-"
"Oh- yes, please," she is quick to agree, the stinging pain in her leg making itself known once he starts moving the two of them towards the vessel. "I have some ointment and bandages in there too, so I can stop ah- bleeding all over you."
His mouth stretches into a slightly tense, yet amused smile. "That would be for the best, I think, yes," he says, his voice regaining its previous tightness at the mention of blood.
She assumes he might be doing his best not to think about it, though it doesn't seem easy. Like waving a steak in front of a hungry carnodon, she thinks, with a touch of wry amusement. She makes a note to avoid using the word for now. No need to make things harder for him.
The clamber up to the deck of her one-man sailboat is an awkward process. Her injured leg, which already didn't like the movement of before, certainly protests against actually climbing the little ladder she has hanging off the side. The mer does his best to help, but her bleeding calf so close to his face seems to be bothering him too much to bear. His hands tighten minutely around her waist, and even over the everpresent sounds of the waves around them, she can hear way his breathing stutters.
Definitely struggling now. She Does her best to hurry, finally managing to grip onto the ladder with tired hands and pulling herself up, feeling his hands leave her body as she climbs.
Then she's aboard, and she breathes a sigh of relief at the sensation of solid flooring beneath her feet. With a grunt of effort, she shuffles backwards, further into her boat at the same time she sees the mer-giant puts some distance between them with a few elegant motions of his fins. He appears to be doing his best to avoid looking at her, and she quickly shoves her bleeding leg behind her- though she doubts it'll help much. If he could smell her blood across miles of open ocean, just getting the leg out of his sight won't make a difference.
Still, it's the principle of the thing, and she really does want to make it easier on him. For both their sakes.
"Are you, uh…" she starts, watching the tense twist of his expression, "doing alright there?"
It feels a little odd to talk about, given the thing he's struggling with is the urge to eat her, but- the distraction of speech seems to help. The mer chuckles a little, clearly also not missing the irony of the situation.
"Yes, fear not," he says, and his deep, dual-tone voice is still tight, but otherwise steady enough. "My control will not falter now."
That hadn't been exactly what she'd been asking about, but- good to know. "I have some food onboard," she changes the subject, deciding it would be best not to linger on the topic further. "A baked fish, some jerky. It's not much, but if you're hungry…" she trails off with a shrug, "it's the least I can do, after what you did for me."
Against her expectations, the mer's face scrunches into something like revulsion. It's a funny look on such a regal, otherworldly face. Like a child displeased with their dinner, almost. "I am afraid dead meat is not to my taste," he says with a notably dolphin-like click in the back of his throat, "but I appreciate the thought."
Ah. That is understandable, she supposes - as well as slightly off-putting in its phrasing, but - fair enough. It makes sense, now that she gives it some thought. Predatory fish men most likely aren't meant to be eating their meals cooked.
"Sorry," she tips her head, accepting his answer, and watches him wave the apology off with a small smile. An uncertain silence stretches between them, then, filled only by the ocean's sounds… and she realizes she doesn't quite know what to do with herself now. Where to go from here, after all that's happened today.
She should excuse herself, probably. Go home, do something about the leg. She does feel all sorts of shitty, now that the adrenaline's faded and all her muscles are screaming for rest. Besides, she should probably go bleed somewhere out of her unlikely savior's general vicinity. Stop waving the metaphorical steak in front of his nose, before she gets quite literally bitten for it.
On the other hand, though- there is an actual mer here. A mer that speaks her tongue, and is for some reason happy to give her the time of day. An enormous, beautiful, utterly fascinating being which, if the open ocean sailors' description are to be believed could very well be one of the almost mythical primarchs. And she is supposed to leave, squander this rare, curious opportunity, just like that?
Some of her indecision must surely show on her face, because the being smiles slightly, the fins which make up his ears shifting slightly. "Go," he says gently, as he puts a few more meters of distance between them- though his eyes, she notes, never leave her for a moment. "Go home, lovely one. Flee from my hunger, for you do not deserve its bite. Tend to your injury. And take more care when exploring the sunken lands, next time," he says, then hesitates. "If you intend return here again, that is?"
There is something hidden behind those words. A quiet loneliness, she believes. A gentle request, too. He wants to see her again, she thinks, and the little thrill that goes through her body at the prospect nearly makes her shiver.
"Should I?" she says, testing the waters.
His head cocks to the side. "I will leave that up to you," he says evenly, refusing to press. Trying not to scare her off, maybe.
She shouldn't. She really shouldn't, but- lovely one. It echoes in her head, tingles in her stomach and around her midsection, where his hands held her tight. Lovely one. It sounded so sweet, in his echo-y, inhuman voice, coming from so beautiful, so fascinating a being. It stoked that curiosity, that thrill in her heart, the adventurer's spirit that led her to take up her dangerous profession in the first place, and-
Lovely one. Really, how is she supposed to be making good life decisions after that?
"I shouldn't be going into the water for a bit, what with my leg," she says eventually, a little apologetic, then has to suppress an undignified, endeared sound in the back of her throat at the way the mer's broad shoulders slump.
"But," she adds; lets a smile climb its way across her lips, fighting down the warmth in her cheeks, "I still have to make money somehow, especially since I'll be losing a day's worth of work. So, I think I might take the fishing rods out tomorrow, instead. Bright and early would be for the best. Perhaps you could show me to some decent fishing spots?"
The smile he gives her in is carefully close-mouthed, yet no less warm for it, and she knows, then, this will not be a choice she regrets, no matter how it all ends.
-
Damn, this took me a while! Life has been very efficient at taking up valuable writing time, but I'm still working on fics where I can. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! I might continue this, or I might not, depending on my time and whether people want to see more of it. Either way, it was fun to make!
A/N: Thank you for all the love on the previous part! I hope I can do this one just as adequately!
I made Sangy a bit more soft, obsessive yandere, not completely losing his humanity, he is still a soft lover!
Warnings for the chapter: orgasm control, cunnilingus (f receiving), body worship, breeding kink, soft yandere Sangy, power dynamics, Sangy is a considerate King of foreplay, praise kink, creampies, aftercare (that's important, guys!)
Tagging: @missmolliemoo, @mirurnas, @iluminatka16, @holylogios, @pippinsquishums, @blue-wrens, @beckyninja, @crowoftheempyrean, @sonholunarluzestelar, @cunninglinguist-69, @baldieboi, @tomatojellyfish, @makerelb, @omg1wanttidd1es-sb, @gh0st-nebulae, @amasec, @mountains-call-me, @just-an-adventurer - thanks for all the likes and love on the previous part from everyone! Cheers!
"There will be no need for tears when I can show you just how much you mean to me."
His words, soft, sweet, don't match the way he stares at you: hungry, fascinated, focused. You still weep softly in his arms, the primarch holds you soothingly as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.
"You're everything to me, my dove." His voice is pleading, but there is a firmness to his words: "Please, allow me to show you how valuable you are to me."
Was this all a game to him? The hunt, chasing you in endless corridors, just to proclaim fondness for you? Your mind unravelled with thoughts, uncertain and confused. Was this his way of... flirting?
"I-I am just a serf, my lord!" You blurt, blushing at the way his eyes linger on parts of you, your face, your trembling hands as you try to steady yourself against his firm grip. Sanguinius only sighs deeply, slowly closing his eyes as if revelling in the feeling of having you in his embrace.
"For decades, I have been selfless," he says, "I have been what the people wanted me to be: graceful, dutiful, caring." He leans in close to your face, red eyes swimming with heated desire and need, "Do you know how exhausting that can be? Playing a role others wish to see you as?"
You can only shake your head at him: of course, you don't know what it feels like. He was the very image that you and others saw him as, an angel.
It was only natural to feel this want and need to weep tears when he descended from the skies, his angelic being so beyond understanding, it brought mortals to their knees in reverent worship.
"No, my lord." You whisper back at him.
"I wish to be selfish for once," he breaths close to your neck, the heat from his skin rolls off you in a great, marvellous sight, "and not be the Angel everyone wants me to be."
You nod as if you understand. Sanguinius stares you down, thoughtful. He startles you when his large hand circles around your waist, rubbing circles that make you feel as if your skin is melting off. "Allow me to be the one to cherish someone for once."
Barely having a chance to voice your concerns, Sanguinius presses his lips to yours in a chaste kiss, similar to the ones in romance novels and poems. The Angel literally took your breath away, cradling the back of your head as he guides you to kiss him deeper.
He is careful not to overpower you; his mouth and head are much larger than yours, he could easily smother you with his lips, and he is very much aware of his fangs nicking you. But that thought thrills him, thrills the beast within him. Part of him wishes to lose all self-restraint and pin you to the ground and fuck you, but his patience is holding on for dear life.
His lips are warm and soft against yours. You shut your eyes to try not to stare at him with wide eyes, shaking like a leaf as you clasp him. Sanguinius hums in approval to you receprocation, testing to see how you'd react next to what he does.
He really enjoys the smallest of surprised yelps you make when he lightly nips at your bottom lip.
The Angel pulls back to gauge your reactions: to see your flushed face, your half-lidded gaze. You're trying to look anywhere but at him, and he corrects that by gently but firmly holding your chin so you can only maintain eye contact with him.
"That is just a taste of my passion for you," he whispers, his eyes drift back to your lips once more, "I would burn planets and carve the very stars in your name if it meant I could kiss you again, to have this forever." That very sentence, he says with such softness, even when it holds such power over what he and his legion are capable of.
You don't know how to respond to that; his words are haunted poetry, and someone is courting you, a primarch of all people. "My Lord-"
"Please, just Sanguinius," he rumbles, smoothing your hair back carefully. "I would rather be anything but an Angel tonight."
How could anyone turn him away? Turn away a Primarch like Sanguinus? It would be anyone's dream to be courted and taken by him, and even though you had your fantasies, you never thought the day would come when you caught his eye.
It thrilled you, this secret escape from your duties to be tended to and desired by a mountain of a man.
"I desire you," Sanguinus brings you out of your trance. He brought his head down towards your neck, and you shudder when you feel his fangs graze lightly over your skin, along your pulse point. Instead of ripping into you like an animal, the Angel nips and sucks at your skin, careful with his pointed teeth as he manages to make your head dizzy and body light, "What say you?"
"I-I," You try to find the right words to state your desire and want for him from the beginning, but all words die on your tongue when you feel his teeth and tongue against your skin, how he cradles you and makes you feel that desire that burns within. You could only wish to recite poetry to him, even when you don't know any. You wish you could burn planets in his name, but you cannot. You were born to serve, and that had been your purpose for as long as you could think. Now, that purpose had been changed.
You finally think of the words that are simple enough for you to say that he would understand in equal measure, "I desire you too."
Sanguinius' lips curve into a smile against your neck; the bruises he has begun marking on you are a reminder of his patience, his and his alone. You are his; he will make sure all in the galaxy know that, and now that he has made himself clear and your desire for him is told, he can gladly show what he truly is.
"My wonder, my light," he purrs, his lips find yours again with as much ardency as the first, and you find it easier to match his pace and a way to press your lips fully against his without being overcome, "my stars, my everything." He continues to murmur against you; those praises are the soothing remedy that you will take to your grave.
The two of you stay like that for some time, cradled in his arms as he takes from you what he had been missing. You can feel some restraint tethering from the Angel: he grips you a bit tighter, his tongue darts to run over your bottom lip, and you accept the intrusion. His tongue, like everything about him, is large.
It takes a bit of trial and error to not clash teeth awkwardly, but you both find it easier the more you explore, and you find yourself blissfully sighing in his arms.
That blissful ignorance opens up when you feel hands drift to the front of your robes. Sanguinius' throat bobs. "May I?"
You nod, looking anywhere but at him when he slowly unravels the buttons of your robes, discarding the long, red fabric to the ground in haste, the buttons and strings of your tunic and shirt beneath come next, and soon, the bare skin of your chest is revealed to him. He doesn't stop there; his eyes silently plead with you, a wish to continue, and you allow him.
Your trousers and shoes come next, until you're laid bare in front of him. There have been a few times when you have been bare in front of another, and you can't help the way your body reacts. The air hits your skin, pebbling with excitement and nerves when hungry eyes stare down at your chest. Your nipples stand to close attention, and Sanguinius silently marvels at your entirety as if in a trance.
"You're beautiful." He murmurs, you expect him to just grope at your chest hungrily, begin his trail down between your legs to have what he wants, but instead, he surprises you. He lifts you gently back to your feet; his immense size, even whilst kneeling, has you amazed, even when he is eye level with you.
You watch him, how he starts by trailing kisses up towards your neck, kissing lightly over the bruise flowering on your skin, down your collarbones, he presses a soft kiss above your breast, where your heart lies, beating frantically for only him to hear.
He continues, his hands warm against your skin, moving where his mouth does: across your collarbones, lightly teasing your pert nipples. He trails lower down your body, his kisses continue, over your arms, shoulders, he kisses into the palm of your hands, down your stomach, your navel, and above your belly button, slowly, ardently. You cannot look at him whilst he does this, the immense beauty of him worshipping your body when it should be you kissing the ground he walks on is too much!
Tears pool in the corner of your eyes from the love, the need, the yearning that comes from him silently pressing kisses to every piece of your skin, like you're art. He kisses scars, freckles, and does not cower from what you think are the hideous parts of you, where curves sit that you detest; he loves feverishly.
"M-My lord- Sanguinius!" You fail in keeping your voice down, your legs quiver, but he keeps you upright. Sanguinius does not respond to you, but his enlarged eyes look up at you briefly, curiously, hurriedly. "I'm not worthy of your love!" You cry out, face flushed as if you have succumbed to a fever.
Sanguinius presses a final kiss just below your belly button, but he does not rise from his position. He stares up at you, tilting his head as if in a teasing, charming look. "You are worthy of my love, my dove." You shuddered when his hands slowly parted your legs apart, his face ever so close, tickling at your pubic hairs. "I will show you."
And showed you, he did.
Sanguinius did not waste a second pressing his face between your legs, his mouth finding your mound. Still holding you by your hips, he lifted you with ease onto his shoulders to give him better access. You clung to him, hands finding themselves running through his silky, long locks, trying to hold on for stability and the overwhelming sensation that was mounting in your core.
This time, your moans were welcomed. Sanguinius moaned against you, in time with you, feasting as if this would be his last meal. His fangs did not pierce your skin, but you found yourself ever excited if they grazed lightly over your flesh.
One hand found your nipple, pinching the bud lightly, switching to the other as his tongue found your entrance, feverishly delving in for more. You couldn't believe how deprived you had been, how easily you were about to cum so quickly. Embarrassment washed over you alongside the other heated emotions.
You didn't know if you were speaking coherently at this point, head swaying with the looming feeling that you would come undone very soon. You tried warning Sanguinius through stammered breaths, crying out when his hand circled playfully over your clit.
"Sanguinius-Throne! I cannot-" You nearly squeezed your thighs together, but couldn't with the force keeping them open. Sanguinius gave you a once-over look from his lower position. The redness of his eyes wasn't as bright as it once was, and there was a blue hue that mixed, like blood mixing in water. You wondered if clarity was returning to him.
That orgasm that was fastly approaching was halted abruptly: the Angel pulled back everything from you, leaving you an exhausted, bewildered, sweaty mess. Your breathing was laboured, your mind so focused on finishing, now felt glazed, your thighs trembled from the need for more. "W-wha- I-"
The Angel, with you hoisted on his broad shoulders, lowered you gently to the ground, your robe acting as a blanket against the hard, cold marble. He kisses your knees, lowering them slowly, and your legs still shake lightly from his touch.
"I am not done with making you come undone, my light." He said, his fingers rested on your mound, a finger found itself tracing along your clit, lowering to your entrance.
You lose count of how many times Sanguinius can undo you, but had denied you a climax. He teased you over and over again, denying you to cum regardless of how many times you pleaded or how sweetly you did so.
"One more, and I'll let you." He sweetly said, but that was a lie, again he denied you, even when he had stretched you full on two of his fingers, larger than yours.
When he was done with you, you were a writhing mess, incoherent, delirious, hungry for more. Sweat stuck to your body, and your heart danced in his ears. You were his, and nothing could stop that.
Sanguinius leant over you, pressing open-mouthed kisses to you and your skin, distracting you when you realised his clothes had been shredded, and something long and hard was pressing against your inner thigh. By the time you realised what it was, one leg was up in the air, resting against his chest, slowly testing the waters by guiding the head of his cock against your hole.
"S-Sang-" You inhaled sharply, before feeling his length slowly push itself inside.
You clenched immediately around him, and even from the foreplay he gave, his size was barely even what his fingers had been. Sanguinius let out a guttural hiss when he pushed in, eyes turning almost completely black, trying to push bit by bit.
Your head lolled back from the size of him, pressing perfectly in all the right places; you couldn't help but clench around him, the sounds he made heavenly.
"Mine," he moaned softly, the sound angelic, his perfect face fell to one of pure pleasure, hair still in place and looking flawless as ever. "My beloved."
He moved slowly once he had bottomed out in you, cock moving in time as you tried to meet his hips, the slight discomfort from the stretch falling into genuine pleasure. You cried out beneath him, trying your best not to cum so quickly despite not being allowed to, your orgasm rose and rose the more he thrusted inside you.
Faster, deeper, he pressed some of his weight against you, and you felt the immediate primal feeling take over you. You needed all of him, needed everything he could give.
"Please!" You whined, but you were uncertain you had the words to say it. Your mouth had fallen open, words became mush, so you had to resort to using your eyes in hopes he understood.
"Please, what?" He asked, that smile was teasing and lilt, he looked down upon you with such grace and love, but his hips did not stop their brutal pace.
Your throat was incapable of speech, words from mind to mouth jumbled, but you could still sense he was delighted in playing with you, in trying to make you speak when you couldn't form sentences. "S-Sang-- Sanguinius," you whined low, "please... cum, I-"
"Cum for me, my dear." Sanguinius had some compassion for you; his thrusts did not stop their pace nor the angle. A sharp, high-pitched cry came from you, "cum around my cock."
You did just that, the dam exploded and outpoured the previously denied orgasms. Your entire lower body quivered when your orgasm came, and from it, words of encouragement from Sanguinius, his thrusts growing sloppier.
"Throne- I'm-" What came next almost seemed like a waking dream. From his very eyes was you, swadled in his legion's colours, you were glowing, radiant as the sun, as he gently caressed the large bump you carried. His eyes almost watered from the sight, his hips trying to keep up as he cried out from both orgasm and vision.
Sanguinius snapped his hips against yours, whispering to himself as he hoped his seed would take root within you.
His cum had flooded you unexpectedly; the sheer amount of it was already leaking out of you despite not having pulled out. The Angel's eyes were clear as a blue sky, tearing up and glazed over, slowing his thrusts to come down from the high, but still staying within.
Silently, he pulled you off him, pulling you back to his chest, his cock pulling out as cum leaked out from you.
Sanguinius spooned you from behind, head nuzzling between your neck. You were overcome with emotions as the two of you lay beside one another, basking in the afterglow.
"Forgive me," he murmured against your skin. He seemed to be overcome by his previous actions, the fear he had put you through: "I am the one unworthy of you."
"My angel," You struggled to roll to face him, doing so as you cradled his face, "all is forgiven." You kissed him softly, and he reciprocated with great enthusiasm.
"I shall have a bath drawn for us in my chambers," he smiled earnestly, a blush appeared on his features as he looked around the room you had both ruined, "if we can reach there without someone spotting us in the nude."
i don’t even know anything about warhammer but i’m such a sucker for a princely type with a dark side and his obedient subject, loved the recent piece sm
Thank you! It means a lot!
My favourite types are soft boys but I do like good hearted characters who are badass and have a dark streak to them.
I like a bit of body horror, so I added it in, making Sanguinius look truly feral and bird-like!
Warnings for the chapter: predator/prey mindset, yandere Sanguinius, the red thirst makes an entry!
There was something fundamentally off with the Great Angel.
A great many always saw Sanguinius for who he was: the soft, friendly Primarch, always dutiful to his sons, the emperor, and the cause he was created to defend.
His brothers, even Horus, were not aware that there was a different side to their brother, only seen behind closed doors, alone with his thoughts. You had been Sanguinius' personal serf for three years, having built a bond with the primarch since the day he took you in. He treated you as he treated everyone around him: generous, kind and always warm. He always smiled when he greeted you, and talked about your day first before talking about his. It was a blessing to have such a kind primarch: you got to learn more about the Angel's routine, what time to bring his food, and how he liked his wine.
Despite his warm nature, there was always an odd look in his sky-blue eyes. They were sad, as if he was hiding something only he could keep, but something else felt as if it was embedded within.
You always wondered if being a Primarch meant being lonely.
Always kind and obedient, you remained respectful and kept your distance, always leaving him once again to be alone in his chambers when you provided what he needed from you.
The first time you witnessed it was when he thought you had your back turned to him, the mirror in front of you showed you all.
The smallest of twitches in his wings, the gracious smile on his face faltering slightly.
From that day, you tried to remain positive; everyone had good and bad days, even primarchs! You worried yourself too, thinking he was mad at you, that you did something wrong. You doubled down, making sure to keep vigilant in how you moved, the way you spoke to him. Still, things remained the same, and you wondered if you would witness this falter again.
It came one night when you received a message from one of his sons: he had come back and "was not in the mood for small talk". That should've told you something: that he was mad, maybe at you or the entire Imperium, but knowing you were still assigned to bring him food and drink, you tried not to worry yourself.
He always had a drink of wine in the evening, little pieces of fruit, as it helped him with his paperwork. You did wonder if the Angel ever slept, but knowing he had important work to do, you doubted he got much sleep at all.
The corridor to his chambers was quiet, not a blood angel in sight. It brought you to question what could have possibly been the cause of this. One of his sons would greet you outside his door. Now, no one was there.
You hesitated to knock, waiting for something, anything to tell you there was someone behind the door. Slowly and quietly, you finally knocked, so timidly did you fear it would not be heard. There was nothing from the other side, no noise or movement. You wondered if Sanguinus was actually inside until you heard the quietest of noises, a response.
"Enter."
Relieved to feel the stress ease from your shoulders, you were thankful he heard and was allowing you inside. Quickly and carefully entering, the wine in hand was in an ornate, golden jug; its weight in gold alone was the heaviest part of it, then adding liquid made it somewhat impossible to carry.
"My Lord," You spoke as calmly as possible, keeping your head low. "I have brought your wine."
The first thing you spotted in his usually neat room was how much of a disarray it was in. Paperwork was scattered, drawings and writings strewn on the floor. You almost stepped on one of his lovely feathers; the length of it was bigger than your forearm. You dared not look up to see if he was okay, for fear you would be met with something else.
You could sense the Angel at his desk; the hum of otherworldly power that came from the side of the room told you so. He had not discarded his gilded armour yet; usually, he would've replaced it with simpler robes, but you couldn't understand why. There was a faint smell of oil in the air, maybe from an engine, but you could not smell it over the overpowering smell of incense.
Sanguinius hummed, drawing your attention as he rose, moving slowly. You retreated when you placed the wine down, allowing him to pour his cup to how much he needed. He moved slowly, almost sluggishly, to the table, pouring a little amount into his golden chalice.
The Angel surprised you once more; his figure moved to sit on the end of his very large bed. The frame dipped and groaned from his weight before settling, a silence filling the air with periodic sips coming as he drank.
You waited awkwardly: usually, he would've asked about your day by now, and you would've found conversation to flow the more you opened up to him. You liked how he laughed, a soft, melodic chime, music to your ears. Instead, he was silent, too quiet for you to know something was very wrong.
Finally, bringing your attention back to you, he spoke, his voice almost raspy.
"Do you fear me, little one?"
His question surprised you: never once did he frighten you. He was a Primarch, of course, his stature was intimidating even whilst sitting down, the raw strength was thrice as strong as any mortal man. But so did his many brothers, and some of them intimidated and frightened you more than he did. Sanguinius was always sweet to you, speaking to you with a soothing voice as if you were an injured animal. He asked about your family, about your past, your goals and your future.
"My Lord, I could never-" you looked up at him for the first time since entering the room, your words suddenly dying on your lips, "be afraid." You managed to finish your words.
Sanguinius had already been staring over at you, his cup ignored, his undivided attention all on you.
There was something off with the Angel; you could not place what it was. His hair was slightly dishevelled than normal, and the golden hue seemed a bit paler in the moonlight. His skin, too, looked paler than it normally did. His beauty was different to most men: there was an otherworldliness about him that made him stand out from his brothers, a beauty that stirred within people and made them swoon. He was handsome, an ethereal man with features you could find attractive. But it wasn't those things that had made you feel uncomfortable.
Perhaps it had been his eyes.
You had seen eyes like those before: of the falcons and owls your mother owned, of their eyes when they sharpened in on something they spotted. Sanguinius had that exact stare: sharpened, focused, unblinking. You could see in real time the way his pupils dilated and constricted a fraction, as if he were slowly taking you in, as if you were something a bird would chase.
"Come closer," Sanguinius spoke, and you obeyed silently. Your feet shuffled slowly, as if moving on their own towards him. Your free will had left, something primal had remained within you: that fight/flight feeling that had your heart racing, and nerves swelling.
Sanguinius could sense it too, sense it in the way you watched him, observed him with the natural graces of a fawn, he, a wolf. You were close enough to him now that you could hear his deep breaths, the heaviness in his breathing as he tried to make himself as small as possible, failing when he had large wings poking out of him.
"Do," he loomed over you, the dilated pupils made his eyes look almost black now, you could see your tiny reflection looking back through them, "you fear me?" He repeated, slower, enunciating every word.
"No." You didn't know if you were lying or not. Some part of you wanted to flee the room screaming, the other part felt compelled to reach out to him, to feel the strength of a man in your tiny palm. "Should I?" You risked the question, licking your lips nervously.
Sanguinius pulled back slightly as if out of a trance, flashing a white smile that did not reach his eyes, "You have always been so loyal to me." He surprised you, reaching out first, a large, calloused hand tracing up your forearm, feeling and enjoying the way your skin pricked with goosebumps. "Always an angel."
You couldn't believe yourself an angel when there was one right in front of you! How could he, the Great Angel, call a mere mortal and serf an angelic being?
"You do not believe me." He hummed, his long fingers traced thoughtfully along your arm, and you felt caged in a way that did allow you the freedom to move away from him. "I can prove it."
"How?" Your voice was barely above a whisper.
Sanguinius was still smiling down at you, and it was only then that you realised his eyes were not just blue anymore, they had bled through to a sanguine hue, bright, powerful, intense. "A lovely thing like you would want to please their Angel?" His voice was low, reverberating through you, "To please their Primarch?"
"Yes."
He delicately and suddenly removed his hand from your arm, the absence of immense warmth something you missed. "Do exactly what I say, do not call for aid until I see appropriate."
You tilted your head in confusion to his cryptic wording, but slowly nodded as if in understanding. You do want to please him; you wish to make him happy. "Ok, my Lord."
"Good." It was eerily strange: the deepness of his voice did not sound like it belonged to him, nor to any being you could recognise. "Now. Run."
You sometimes wondered if you had any luck at all in life, or if fate had neatly presented you nicely on a silver platter.
Even though you were familiar with the corridors aboard the Red Tear, adrenaline and fear coursed through you, rendering you as if you had never set foot or grown accustomed to the maps.
Fear clung to you in the sweetest smell. Sanguinius had allowed you a ten-second start before he joined you down the long, winding corridors. Your lighter, clumsy footing compared to his steady, urgent steps did not help in your way out. Where could you go? Your quarters were too small and not the best place to hide. And you certainly could not go and try to find someone for help, that was the one rule the Angel told you.
Your breathing was frantic, pushing yourself to exertion, and walls upon walls looked the same, the more you rounded corners. A left here, sharp right there, a door you can't remember leading to, and suddenly, you realise... You don't actually know where you're going. Your mind has been playing tricks on you, making you pursue a chase you had no way of winning.
You cried out when your hopes were dwindling, muttering to yourself, trying to remember the corridor that led to where, if the door you passed through led to the east wing or the south. How could you allow yourself to lose all concentration? You cursed yourself over and over again.
The rigid door you were approaching could've brought some hope. It was as familiar to you as all the rest of the doors you passed; however, you told yourself, perhaps, it led through to the staff quarters.
You dared not look back; the Angel's footsteps were heavy throughout your chase, and you didn't want to know if he was right behind you or if he had given up.
Reaching the door, you twisted the door handle again, harder, again and again, and again-
No, why was it locked?
You banged hard from the other side, almost crashing your body against the metal wall. Your palms burned the more you banged, calling to anyone to help you.
It was then you realised... You hadn't been concentrating on listening.
You froze, rigid as a cold rushed over you. You could feel your heart in your throat, before turning ever-so slowly, tears slowly pricking at the corners of your eyes.
The Great Angel loomed at the end of the corridor, some twenty feet back, observing you. His wings, large enough to pass with ease through the wide hallways, were spread, making him appear bigger than normal. His golden locks covered his face, his eyes shielded from the curtain, making it difficult to read his facial expressions.
"M-My Lord?" You whimpered, but the Angel stood as a statue, taking you in. You dared not step out of line or step closer towards him, for fear he would reach for you. You didn't know what he could do to you if he caught you, and though there was a fear that rippled through you, you couldn't help but still wish to help him.
You glanced for any other exits. A server door was to the left of you, but it was a few metres in front. You didn't know if you had the speed to get to it in time, even with the door wide open.
Looking away, not keeping an eye out in front, the Angel's body twitched.
You looked back at him, maintaining eye contact. The flare of his wings made him move a bit, but he was still motionless, as if waiting for you to make the first move.
Looking to the server room one final time, you leapt, sprinting as fast as you could.
And Sanguinius followed swiftly.
It was maybe when you took your second step that you realised your mistake: you didn't think you would reach the door before he did. And what then? He was quick and not even trying, you, exerting yourself, lungs burning, heart rushing with adrenaline, you needed to reach the door before him.
Sprinting was not your strength, but you ran as if your life depended on it because it did. Closer and closer to the open door, you were in arm's length of it, the warmth of the wires you could almost feel on your skin. You felt thankful that you could be safe. But one thing about Sanguinus and his speed: despite his size, he was always too fast for anyone to focus on.
Your hand hit the side of the door, and slowly, as if in slow motion, you made the horrid choice to look up to your right. Barreling towards you, the Angel was almost in front of you, his hands outstretched, almost claw-like-
Diving into the room, you let out a scream as his body, not a second later, crashed behind you, and a large crunch came from the collision into the doorway.
You had rolled out of the way, tumbling to the ground, crawling on your hands and knees backwards, away from the door. You stared back at what awaited you.
Sanguinius was far too big for the doorway. The Angel was letting out low, short grunts and hisses, clawing at the door like a frustrated, terrifying feline. Finally, from the entranceway, he met your frightened gaze.
"Do you think a doorway will keep me away from you?" He asked, the question was so simple, but there hid an edge to his words. Lying beneath his usually soft and flowery tone was something menacing, crazed and waiting to be unleashed.
"My Lord-" you stumbled back, trying to pick yourself up again.
"Why don't you do me a favour and step back out here?" Sanguinius' throat rumbled in a way you didn't think was possible. He softened his words sweetly enough to sound genuine, his eyes looked larger enough to look pleading, but they were glazed over and crazed, bloodshot red, a hunger lurking. "I won't hurt you. And if you're good- I'll treat you like the good girl you are."
Like the good girl you are. You had never heard him praise you like that. It brought butterflies to your core. You wished to swoon at his words, but you didn't want to believe him, didn't want to step any closer to him. You did want to obey him, to step out, but that part of your primitive animal brain was nagging you, telling you how bad an idea that was.
"You're scaring me, my Lord." You whispered, trying to press your back as close to the furthest wall and away from him. He swiped at you, his hands desperately trying to catch the material of your clothing, a desperate attempt to tug you back to him. He continued to swipe at the air. This hulking beast had now taken over him, and you noticed there was a crack that was forming on the side of the wall, deep and slowly stretching wider and wider.
"If you won't come to me," his patience was hanging by a thread, "I will come to you."
To your horror, you watched as the large Primarch began shredding and tearing at his armour, golden trim clattering to the ground. You dared not look back on him as you tried to search for an exit in this tiny, warm room. until, to your surprise, you found a small vent you could try to get yourself through.
The Primarch had removed most of the ceremite armour before he tried to squeeze himself again. The lack of armour allowed him to get half of his body through, and just before he was about to grab you, the vent had been your saviour.
Crawling helplessly through the dirty, dust-filled vents, you didn't wish to look back on Sanguinius, howling and screaming for you, your name echoing from his anguish. Part of you felt shame for leaving him there; the other part told you to keep going and not look back.
Sanguinius could feel your poor, frantic little heart beating within the walls as he dragged himself out of the cramped room, following you through other corridors, smashing his way through doorways too small for him. He ignored the looks from those who passed him, specifically his sons. They didn't matter in this moment; only finding and reuniting with his lovely dove did!
You crawled out from hell: dust and debris clung to your skin and clothing, your skin felt disgusting, but you felt somewhat safe, trying to leave little evidence of your escape out the vent. Now, in a new part of the ship, you had to navigate a way to find someone to help you. Perhaps Raldoron could find you a safe room to stay in whilst your Primarch raged-
"Oh, little dove!" The voice echoed, and it brought a sense of doom; all hope shrivelled up and died. "Where did you go?"
You couldn't give up now, diving into the closest room you could find, you were surprised you recognised the room. It had been for Sanguinius and his sons to use for drawing and sculpting. Large easels decorated the middle of the room, a large, open space where whoever was being drawn or sculpted could sit. You dove behind the closest easel, pressing yourself into it just as the door crashed open, shuddering against the hinges.
"I know you're in here~" Drawled Sanguinus. You tried to hold your breath, tried to calm your nerves, feeling the Primarch of the IXth legion circle the room slowly, approaching with such disturbing grace that it made you feel queasy. "Why don't you come out now, so you can see your Lord?"
You dared not move, kept yourself as rigid as possible, until the sudden sound of a great distant crash nearly had you screaming. An easel was thrown across the room, destroyed in seconds, and the splintered wood and paper exploded into millions of pieces. Shutting your eyes and covering your mouth was the only thing you could do to stop yourself from crying.
Another went flying, closer to you this time. You tried to stop your whimpers, the footsteps continued round and round, stopping and moving as if he was testing you, toying with you for his entertainment. Whatever this was, it wasn't your Sanguinius: he would certainly not act like this, a cat playing with a mouse.
"Ah," Something startled you as a large hand curled around your ankle, the sudden force of someone dragging you had you screaming aloud, screaming for anyone to hear your pitiful cries for help. "There you are, my dove." Sanguinius held you warmly and fondly to his chest. You fell boneless in his arms, too afraid to continue thrashing in his arms. Tears rolled heavily down your cheeks, desperately trying to plead for your life.
"Please-- I beg-"
"Beg?" Sanguinius paused, as if the very word had slapped him across the face. "No, you will not beg, little one." He propped you so you had no escape, as if he was cradling you like a babe. He kissed your tears away, a lovely smile on his handsome face, trying to distract you from those dilated eyes.
"There will be no need for tears when I can show you just how much you mean to me."
A/N: I enjoyed writing this. I think I would write a second part, more NSFW, but let me know!
If I had a nickel for every time a fair-haired, golden child of the family, loved-by-all Prince, who is mysterious and shrouded in some prophetic lore, is killed by their kin before the start of a series, I would have 3 nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird it happened 3 times.
There was a really good fic with Horus Lupercal x reader x Sanguinius smut on here, where Horus was going to keep Sanguinius' secret about his geneseed mutation, and now I can't seem to find it anywhere.
If anyone else has read it or knows who the writer is, it would be a major help, because I need to read it again, it was so good! 😩
Sanguinius vibe
Будь добр к себе, благороден к окружающим и тогда ты достигнешь того света, что теплится в сердце Великого Ангела.
Be kind to yourself, noble to those around you, and then you will reach the light that glows in the heart of the Great Angel.
(Art by Vale ★)
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
AI will not replace writers. AI will not replace artists.
SO KEEP CREATING!
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