thought it might be fun so …. !! i am opening writing requests. ♡
i mostly write x reader content. however, i would be happy to try other requests. like character x character, oc x character ( i would need details about your oc & cannot guarantee they’ll be written perfectly !! ), etc.
my comfort zones include : primarchs, night lords, emperor’s children, raven guard, thousand sons and the various characters involved in the drukhari trilogy. anyone outside of those might take me a little bit of time to research, but i’m happy to branch out.
be as detailed or as vague as you want. i’m looking forward to hearing from you!!
You've mentioned that drukhari/aeldari are your personal interest. Do you have any fun headcanons about you'd like to share or thoughts about a potential relationship with a baseline human? 👀👀👀
I love the regular big boys but the space elves just tickle a different part of my brain and there's a severe lack of content for them in the wh40k tumblr fandom 😩😩
to be fair, there's a lack of content from gw for them as well... not through lack of their writers trying, i'm sure. i hope.
aeldari
falling for you
they don’t want to be interested in you, but they can’t help it. everything you do becomes something they yearn for. you throw away a notebook? they’ve kept it. studied it; taken everything they can from it because they think its their only way to know the real you. human emotion becomes a hook for them, though they’d never ask you for it. it’s almost a personal challenge, how they can make you laugh, see you smile, burn with confidence that they’d not expected.
but if you’re sad or they see you cry? they’d be prepared to move heaven and earth for you. but, they’re fearful of what having such feelings for you, a human, might do for them. this fear will make them come across as them being utterly condescending, because how could someone like you become important to them without a reason? their inner thoughts and anxieties that are very very rarely shared will be a reoccurring problem. when they’re past that, they’re all yours.
“in another lifetime, this would have been easy. unfortunately, fate has not been written that way.”
light moments
they’d never let you be in a situation where harm would come to you. they’d chastise themselves over a bruise you got, even if it was accidental or unavoidable. their protection is because they simply couldn’t live without you. and that can go even further. they are terrified of a life without you, and they’re ashamed to even admit it. every part of you is sacred to them. they’d learn each curve of your body, each scar, freckle, mark, line, etc. they’d know the causes, the stories, trace every scar like scripture and worship you until the end of time, wondering why they’d been cursed to have a kindred spirit with such fragile mortality.
sharing parts of their life is important to them too. they shouldn’t share so much with you, but they want to. their patronising demeanours would begin to fade overtime. they’d be irritated you couldn’t speak their tongue perfectly but even if it frustrates them, they’d quietly find it adorable. if ever you reached for them, in your sleep or if you were worried, it would shatter them. they’d be stunned to silence as they begin to contemplate just how much you mean t them. you’re their salvation. but your life is so short. too short.
“you’re the only thing in this galaxy that feels real to me.”
dark moments
they’d never understand what they feel. sometimes they’re cold, clinical. feeling doesn’t sink through with what they are doing and you may find yourself questioning how much you mean to them. you know they care, but how much they care could be debated – they’re partially afraid to show it (because that makes it real) and partially forget that the trivial nature of love is important to you. if you hurt them, even unintentionally, that feeling is doubled. tripled. every part of them they worked to build past comes right back to them.
but they never allow themselves to hurt you in return. they don’t think that’s fair. they could be so cruel, but they never allow themselves to be with you – and maybe that makes it worse sometimes. but no matter what, they’d come back to you, always seek you out, wanting you right back with them no matter what the cost. they may seem a bit controlling. they think they know what’s best for you and only want to help, its never meant to be more than that. most definitely argumentative to the highest degree and always think they are right, arguing a case even when they realise they might be wrong. that can be infuriating.
“this has never been easy for me. think clearly, and you’ll see things how i see them.”
intimate moments
did you ever know an eldar could be so shy? they worry they won’t be enough for you, ironically, concerned that they'd not be able to fulfil your needs (though outwardly, they'll be a little arrogant and despondent about it). they'll never beg, but they will act like they did. they'll worship you again, they'll use their mouth for hours before moving on. the way you writhe beneath them has their body shuddering.
typically submissive, so eager to please and do well, but they can hold the leash of dominance if required (and of course, there is the occasional outlier - but even then they're at the behest of your pleasure). hours mean nothing to them, they’d go for days if you were able to, just to prove their feelings to you. anything intimate is a ritual for them, really.
“you rival even the stars. won’t you let me have one more taste?”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦. ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦. ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
drukhari
falling for you
you’re a challenge they feel like they need to beat but accidentally start to catch feelings for you – then channel that energy straight into everything but love (but they do love you, its just… not that easy for them). at first they just mock you and everything you live by. it’s a defence for them, a way for them to hide from anything buried beneath. so fragile compared to them, such a small little soul that they should have just killed when they got the chance. but they didn’t; instead they’re sitting on a wall watching, completely fascinated. they’re intrigued by your softness and your warmth.
the first time you try to hug them they are frozen in place. they ask for more on the pretence of conductive research. they like the way their fingertips sink into your flesh. and a kiss? its like a fatal wound. this is almost a slow burn romance with them as they realise you mean more to them than anything, anyone else.
“don’t confuse my clemency for anything other than my need to see you breathe.”
light moments
you mean everything to them. they watch you sleep. watch you eat. watch you fumble around with clothes every time you get dressed and prance around without their grace. they’d find things that reminded you of them, another more human pleasure they’d picked up on, but it’s always something that has a piece of them in it too. like your name carved into a bone that reminded them of your own. or a blade custom made for your liking. they’ll never admit its so they can see you smile. they start to listen to you, unwisely most of the time. if you said stop, they would hesitate. no one else’s words would even reach them. however, they also think that they can impress you by demonstrating their excellence in murder. eventually they’ll settle for impressing you with other things they can do with their hands.
your pleasures accidentally become their comforts. they didn’t understand why the softness of a pillow mattered at first. thought how you made your tea was over the top. but now they crave it because it reminds them of you – a connection to something they’ve never had before. they’d protect you from the entire galaxy if they needed to – you’re the only thing they don’t want to destroy after all. love doesn’t really exist, not to them. but you give them a feeling that they can run off for years, and they never ever want to let it go. you taught them how to feel. that’s more than they can ask from anyone.
“such a little thing, i sometimes find myself wondering how we even ended up in the same world.”
dark moments
possessiveness incarnate. if anyone so much as looks at you they are planning their death. don’t ask and they won’t tell, but really, they’d love to say how many necks they’ve cut just for your smile and may make slight references to it. it may take a while for them to realise you don’t want them to kill anyone for you, even as proof of their affection. they may seem like they don’t care. pain isn’t the same for you and them. they can argue with you, they can make you feel so small and remind you that they could have killed you a thousand times over but they don’t. so how do they not care? they’d struggle to change their mind, expecting you to just realise.
they’ll always seek you out though. the regret would silently ruin them, so they’d never leave a moment to simmer bitterly between you, never want to spend a night away from you with the beginnings of regret bordering on their minds. they’d rather you hate them than leave them. so they sometimes push things to the extreme. they shouldn't, but they do. especially when learning that your fear isn’t as enjoyable as your love.
“even death won’t provide you an escape from me. fortunately.”
intimate moments
the switchiest of any xenos, obviously. they can be your pet, they can be your owner. both, if you want. they want you to stroke their hair and choke them, and they’ll do the same right back. anything you want, of course. because its your sounds and your taste that feeds them at the end of the day. teasing is a love language, in as many ways as you can think. words, touching, biting; they have a billion and one ways to make you frustrated and overwhelmed at the same time.
hearing you say thank you is a blessing. could be for one of those gifts, could be because they let you climax, could be because they chose to not end your life. but don’t worry, their love means you’re always rewarded. prepare for overstimulation, begging, ties and being watched - they're happy to watch you go solo too. don't worry, they'll take good care of you afterwards. sex to them may be meaningless, but with you its different. prepare to beg, a thousand times over.
“did i say that you could stop begging, pet? back on your knees.”
this is your sign to request eldar content from me. i even have eldar ocs. tell me what you want, i'll provide.
Pairing: Drukhari (Aestyhs) x gender neutral reader
Series summary: You are a member of the Death Korps of Krieg, one of the most infamous regiments of the Imperium of Man. After a mission gone awry, you find yourself in the clutches of the Drukhari, a people who quite literally survive on torturing other souls. Also not helping your situation is the fact that you have been exposed to the Warp, and even worse...you seemed to resonate with it.
Content warning: Death, torture, war, canon-typical violence.
Useful information for those unfamiliar with 40K: Death Korps of Krieg, the Imperium of Man, Drukhari, the Warp, Chaos daemons, Tyranids
Had you been a regular soldier, you would have been terrified of the situation you now found yourself in, creeping your way through a corrupted hive city with no more than three other soldiers to comprise your strike team. But you weren’t just a regular soldier. No, you were a soldier of the Death Korps of Krieg, arguably the most hardened regiment the Imperium had at its disposal. No Krieg trooper feared the monsters that lurked in the dark corners of the galaxy, and you were no exception. Sure, this city was infested with Chaos daemons, any of which could kill you in an instant if you weren’t careful. But you were here to enforce the Emperor’s will, and fear would do you no favors in accomplishing that task.
So you were calm, your hands comfortably grasping your Lucius pattern lasgun. It was a weapon synonymous with the Death Korps, and you wielded it with brutal effectiveness. You and your team cut through hordes of heretics, not batting an eye at the fact that they had once been subjects of the Imperium. They had turned to the forces of Chaos, and that could not be forgiven.
It wasn’t long before you had reached your destination. It was a manufactorum, responsible for building the Imperium’s Leman Russ battle tanks, a beloved weapon in the Astra Militarum’s arsenal. It had been taken over by heretics, and it was your job to infiltrate it, purge any heretics and daemons, and reclaim it for the Imperium. Right now, you were on step two. Your team was currently sweeping the facility for daemonic infestation, with each growth you found being burned to a crisp by one of your teammate’s flamer.
The last growth was the largest, spiraling up to the ceiling like some demented tree. You and two of your teammates took up defensive positions while the last one of you prepared to burn it, but a low hum coming from behind you caught your attention. Turning to face the noise, you saw that the growth seemed to be glowing purple, and before you could shout at your team to get back, Chaos daemons erupted from it. They poured out and began attacking your team, the four of you doing your best to repel them. You were having an easier time of it than your squadmates, what with the advanced training that every Korpsmember went through. It didn’t take long for each of them to fall to the ground dead, leaving you surrounded by daemons. They slowly approached you, backing you closer and closer to the spot where the growth had once been. In its place was an almost blinding purple glow, a window into the Warp, and you didn’t have a choice but to step into it as you put distance between yourself and the daemons. As soon as you made contact, a purple shockwave shot out from you, disintegrating the daemons as it made contact with them. You dropped to your knees, your ears starting to ring as a splitting pain took root in your head. Your hands pressed against the sides of your mask as you tried to alleviate it, but to no avail.
A few painful minutes passed before the pain subsided, and you looked up, finding yourself in the middle of your comrades’ corpses and the ash that used to be the daemons. As per Death Korps training, you paid it all no mind. You had completed your mission. The manufactorum was secure, and all you had left to do was to make it to extraction. You let out a sigh, grabbed your lasgun, and set off.
The trek started off well, with only a few heretics crossing your path. They were easily felled by your precise shots, not even causing your breath to quicken. You continued on, making your way to the extraction point. You were interrupted, however, by the sounds of footsteps all around you. Quickly coming to a stop, you listened to hear if the steps stopped with you.
They did.
You were being hunted, that much was clear. But by whom? Every heretic you’d come across had confronted you head on, so why would they change tactics now? This had to be something else, and you soon got your answer. Dark and towering figures emerged from the shadows, and you knew in an instant what they were.
Drukhari. You were the target of a Drukhari raiding party.
The raiders slowly approached you, their weapons drawn. You took a deep breath, then got to work. A charged shot from your lasgun took one of them down instantly, and you quickly charged at another, sinking your bayonet into a gap in their armor. You yanked your weapon free of their corpse and took a third one down with another charged shot, but then the others grabbed onto you and pulled your weapon from your grasp. That didn’t stop you from thrashing about, unwilling to give up. Your resistance didn’t last long, as one of them eventually battered the side of your head with the hilt of their blade, rendering you unconscious.
—-Some time later—-
You awoke in a small, dark room. Your eyes slowly opened, a dull throb making itself known in your head. Looking around, you saw some other humans sitting around, all sharing the same expressions of terror. That was when you remembered what had landed you in this situation. The Drukhari raiding party. You were fully aware of what awaited you. So you sat up straight and waited for it to come, but there was a lot more waiting for you to do before that happened.
Being stuck in this holding cell gave you a lot of time to think. You thought back to your upbringing, how the harsh world of Krieg had shaped you into the soldier you were now. How the Death Korps’ signature trench coat and gas mask had become a second skin for you, one that you had grown to become increasingly dependent on. At this point, you felt extremely uncomfortable whenever you weren’t wearing them and often elected to wear them even when you didn’t need to. Like all Korpspeople, that second skin had become an integral part of who you were.
It was a skin that brought you immense peace now as you sat against the wall, patiently awaiting what you knew was coming your way. You’d been captured during a Drukhari raid, and you were well aware what happened to those unfortunate enough to be captives of that sadistic people. Unlike the other prisoners in the cell, however, you weren’t panicking about it. Krieg had conditioned you to meet terrible odds with indifference, and this was no different. Sure, you were almost certainly going to be tortured until you died, as was the case for all captives of the Drukhari, but such is life. You were captured while serving the Emperor, and that last part was all that mattered.
In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement.
You were brought out of your thoughts by the door to the cell sliding open, revealing a Drukhari soldier in their terrifyingly beautiful armor. They looked around the room, seemingly taking in the other prisoners before making a beeline for you. They harshly grabbed your arm and yanked you to your feet. Even when you stood up straight, they towered over you, as all of their kind did.
The soldier led you out of the cell and began taking you through dark corridor after dark corridor. The soldier eventually stopped you in front of an eerily majestic set of doors, which opened to show a lavish room that you could only assume was the personal quarters of this outfit’s leader. Your suspicion was proven correct by the soldier’s words.
“Archon, your humble servant presents the best of our latest catch. A Mon’keigh soldier of the Death Korps of Krieg. This one certainly deserves the reputation of their regiment, a survivor of war and daemons. Managed to kill several of our own before we could subdue them. A fitting trophy for you, I believe.”
You looked around to see who they were speaking to, your eyes eventually landing on an even taller Drukhari gazing out a window, seemingly taking in the stars and nebulae of space. She turned around, and a smug smile took over her face when she saw you. It only grew wider as she strutted over to you.
“The Death Korps, hmm? I’ve heard so much about your kind. Tell me Mon’keigh, are the rumors true? Are you all clones under those masks?” She was extremely close to you now, and her head had to be at quite an angle to look down at you due to her extreme height.
“We are what we need to be,” You deflected, unwilling to divulge the secrets of your home. “Nothing more, nothing less.” Your voice was distorted by the mask, a factor that only added to the mystery that surrounded your regiment.
The archon smiled again. “So cryptic…I like that. Leave us Hierarch, you are dismissed.”
The soldier who had brought you lowered their head, then did as the archon asked, closing the doors behind them. There was a beat, then the archon laid a surprisingly gentle hand against the side of your mask, angling it upward as she gazed into its lenses, likely trying to see your face through them. What she found was that the lenses were darkened to prevent people from doing so. It was a deliberate design choice that aimed to preserve the mystery that was synonymous with the Death Korps, and it only made her more curious about you.
“I am Aestyhs, Archon of this kabal, and you, my dear subject, are a mystery. A mystery that I intend to crack open in more ways than one.”
Her words didn’t scare you, but the soft hand on your cheek did. There was only one thing in the galaxy that scared you, and that hand was a symptom of it. Your entire life had been dedicated to the Korps since day one, so intimacy was something you’d never experienced. It wasn’t pertinent to serving the Imperium. Feeling someone being so soft with you…it scared you. What were you supposed to do? How did stuff like this work? Had the lenses of your mask not been tinted, she would’ve seen the utter terror in your eyes.
“From what I’ve been told, you hadn’t uttered a single word until you were brought to this room. Not a single display of defiance, not a single plea uttered. Total silence. Normally I would find this boring, disappointing even, but given your background, I find it…fascinating. I’ve never had the pleasure of undoing one from the Death Korps, so I’ll have you know that you excite me very much. Very much, indeed.”
Her soft touch on your mask suddenly turned into a harsh grip around your neck, lifting you up to her eye level. Her smile turned from one of curiosity to one of sadism, and it widened when she saw that you weren’t struggling. Your body was completely relaxed, hell, your breathing had barely even changed. You were going to be a fun one to break. If only she knew that you were infinitely more terrified of her when she was soft with you than when she was rough.
She carried you over to the far side of the room, still holding you by your neck. She used her free hand to fasten the manacles that hung from the ceiling to your wrists, suspending you by the chains. She released your neck, letting you hang there, still showing no signs of struggle or resistance. There was a pause as she stared at you, already liking the sight of you utterly at her mercy. She then reached her hands up to the base of your mask, and your body locked up. You couldn’t let her see your face. No one outside of the Korps had that privilege, no one besides the God-Emperor himself that is. Just as she was about to lift the mask up, you felt an unfamiliar instinct rise up, and you decided in a moment of panic to let it take over.
There was a purple flash that temporarily blinded your captor, and when her eyes recovered, you were no longer there, purple particles floating where you had once been. She spun around and saw you standing behind her, noticing more purple particles where you now stood. You had an unsure posture and were gingerly looking at your gloved hands, clearly just as confused about what had just happened as she was. Your masked head tilted upwards, your gaze shifting from your hands to her. She was about to question you, but was interrupted by the lights suddenly turning red and an alarm blaring.
"All personnel, this is not a drill. Tyranids have boarded the vessel."
