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.
What happens if you leave Horus a spicy photo with a raunchy note on the back for when you're away in his paperwork? Does it traumatize the Mournival? Make them jealous? Ask if the Legion Mother is alowed to join the Comand polycule?
Can be seen as addition to this one
@bookandyarndragon - might as we be, but let's take a look at individual reactions first...
The Mournival found a spicy photo you left for their gene-father.
Horus Aximand is shaking. He is sure he was not meant to see this image of yours, despite how similar he looks to his father. Yet he feels something he cannot quite identify about the picture. Little Horus is likely to leave it where it was and do anything he can to forget it. As days pass and guilt grows he might guide the Primarch toward it, hoping for his confused feelings to fade sooner rather than later.
Abaddon straight up steals the picture. It does not matter if it was meant for his gene-father. He is found out, so is his now. He uses it in his private time to study your curves and commit them to memory, then destroys the picture so it cannot be traced to him. It does not matter if you later speak with Horus about it. As long as he has no physical image, only a mental one, he will be fine. You will, however, catch him looking at you once you are back. His lips say nothing, but his gaze conveys things unspoken.
Garviel immediately snatches the photo, but with the sole purpose of returning it to his gene-father. To make the matter less conspicuous, he also grabs whatever documents were on the table and heads to Horus's chamber. He hates to admit it, but his gaze lingered on your photo longer than a mere second. Later, he will contemplate on this during meditation trying to both remember and forget how much he saw.
Tarik smiles and pockets the photo, intending to hold it until you return. He does not even look at it, but your antics amuse him. He plans to hand the photo back the moment you set foot on the Vengeful Spirit, so you can deliver it to his father. He may remark on your boldness and how inefficient your delivery method was. What if someone else had found it? They would not have been as gracious as he is. Now, thank him and be on your way to Horus.
Now, should they find it at the same time -
Abaddon snatches the photo first, but Garviel insists they return it to their father. Tarik tries to mediate between them, while Little Horus sneaks glances at your printed image again and again. They make so much noise that Horus himself happens upon them, leading to a very interesting conversation among the five. It results in the understanding that you must face...disciplinary actions...for your recklessness and the distress you have caused. You are ready for that, are you not?
---
Hey! I now have more here!
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+Taglist (if you want to be added - let me know, I suck at not-direct communications): @beckyninja, @the-mysterious-detective, @celestia0473, @randomlyappearingartist, @nereidof40k, @bookandyarndragonwritesdark, @renegadesyx, @incrediblethirst, @omg1wanttidd1es-sb, @stpdeletacc, @baldieboi
A/N: Inspired by a conversation I had with some friends a while back and absolutely could not get out of my head. not my finest work, but a promise is a promise!
enjoy!
as always, not proofread.
Bed springs creaked under weight resettling and the mattress dipping at the bottom causing you slide down towards the end, bumping into the warm mass perched on the edge.
"Careful"
Nodding, you shifting to perch on your knees and laid your hand across a tense shoulder, running your palm along the dark body suit that clung to every inch like a second skin.
"You should change out of this, I'm surprised Tarik hasn't already commented on the state of it" you mused, tapping his back before running you fingers through his length of red hair thoughtfully
Captain Abaddon looked at you over his shoulder for a moment, dark eyes stern before he relaxed and smirked.
"What makes you think he hasn't already? He cant keep a comment to himself to save his life"
You snorted, shaking your head and lifting yourself up to reach for his top knot. You began unwrapping the binding around his shock of hair, deftly picking the fabric gradually looser with practiced movements.
You worked in comfortable quiet twisting and working knots free as the tension gradually left Ezekyle's body, his shoulders slouching forward. The light fixtures on the metal walls pulsed with a low light, warming the barren sleep quarters; empty save for a desk and chair, his low bed and a few battle trophies slung from nails in the ships iron panelling.
"He did make quite an impression on the good captain Eidolon, from what I hear"
Abaddon shifted when you broke the silence.
"That man is an idiot. But if it were me, I would have kept my mouth shut, rather than offending the captain in front of his men."
"Oh of course."
The astartes turned, pulling his hair free from your grip and frowning at your tone.
"What is that supposed to mean"
"Nothing, my lord"
He glowered at you, leaning in closer and huffing until you caved under his stern gaze.
"I just cant imagine you staying quiet if what Tarik said is true" you conceded, raising your hands in a placating gesture and grinning. "If anything I imagine you would've been a lot harsher on the good captain. I've heard you when you're angry and..." you petered off with a vague wave.
The prometeum lights flickered across Abaddon's face, casting a warm glow over his features as he considered you silently.
"You've grown comfortable" he finally replied, his head cocked to the side slightly. "Speaking so out of turn to an astartes"
You paused. Smile dipping, you wondered if you'd crossed a line as Abaddon raised his hand slowly, brushing a callused finger over your cheek and down towards your neck. Your breath caught in your throat and you swallowed dryly, watching the corner of the captains lips twitch.
"Not so brave now, are we" he muttered, feeling your pulse race beneath his fingertip. He lingered for a moment, tracing a line along your skin down towards your chest.
"My lord-"
His finger trailed lower, pausing at your sternum and tugging slightly at the collar of your shift. His expression was unreadable as you met his eye.
"Lord Abaddon i didnt-"
With a swift movement, he jabbed forward gently, knocking you onto your back with a thump.
"You're cocky" he chuffed "but luckily for you I find it amusing" He turned away from you and rose to his feet, reaching his arms high above his head, stretching and cracking his joints with a low grunt.
"Throne, Abaddon! I thought you were going to kill me" you whined, clambering to your feet and placing your hands on your hips with a huff. "I'd like to see you find another serf willing to put up with your attitude"
"Implying another Astartes would put up with you?" he laughed, relaxing and gripping the zipper on his under suit. Pulling the black material open and sliding his scarred arms free he pushed the fabric down, leaving it bunched at his hips. The expanse of muscle and sinew on his back rippled and shifted with each movement, showing rigid lines of scar tissue and silvered ports that glittered in the faint light of his room.
"You're so mean to me~" you stepped towards him, slyly edging closer whilst he was distracted.
"You would know if I was being mean"
You shifted closer, creeping across the mattress until you were within distance of the astartes flaming locks.
"You are mean" you pressed, biting your lip as you watched the astartes fidget.
"No, you are just little" he paused, fiddling with his body glove. "Little and weak"
"We'll see who's weak" you lunged at him with a victory cry, tangling a fistful of his hair in your fingers and pulling hard, expecting the knot to come lose.
Abaddon's head jerked slightly and he groaned, low and deep.
You both froze.
Slowly he turned towards you, dark eyes flicking from your face to the threads of his hair still tangled in your fingers.
You couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't react as Abaddon towered over you, chest heaving and pupil dilated. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist and pulling you flush to his chest, his hair falling from your grip.
"Why did you do that" He growled, voice rumbling low in his chest.
Shaking your head, your mouth gaped as you struggled to find the words. Your mind kept tripping over your thoughts, replaying his moan over and over again.
Abaddon snarled, tossing you back down onto the bed and crawling over you. Caging you in beneath his broad chest with a sinewed arm either side of your head, his ponytail fell over his shoulder, brushing across your cheek and pooling near your face.
"Why?" He asked again.
"I..."
You reached up tentatively, teasing the ruby strands fluttering across his cheeks, weaving them between your fingers and giving them another experimental tug. Your heart jumped into your throat as Ezekyle inhaled sharply, his jaw clenching and a muscle twitching.
"You are playing a dangerous game, girl" His voice dangerously low. "it seems you need reminding of your place."
"I shouldnt be doing this" You thought as Abaddon lowered himself towards you, his breath hot on your cheek. But all common sense was gone, replaced by the feeling of the captains lips on yours, the taste of mint on his tongue and the weight of his hand as he snaked behind your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sighed into the kiss and nipped at the marines lip. Abaddon pressed forward at your touch, the kiss becoming sloppy with each second his control began to falter. Releasing his grip, he pawed at your shirt, breaking the kiss for only a moment to wretch the fabric over your head leaving you bare before him. Breathless you lay still as he trailed his tongue over your throat, biting and marking the skin. His thigh pressed between your leg as he pushed closer towards you to and you twitched, hips jerking at the contact.
Abaddon froze.
Slowly he pulled back from you, eyes lingering over your puffy lips and wide eyes before trailing down your body to where his leg brushed your core. He shifted again and smirked as your breath caught.
"oh?"
He reached for your trousers, pulling them off easily. Ignoring your spluttering protests, he gripped your thighs and pulled them apart revealing your slick centre. Heat rose in your body and you clapped your hands over your face, blushing furiously as Ezekyle studied you.
Head tilted slightly, he ran his thumb over your clit, puffing a harsh breath out as you keened and twitched. A rough grip wrapped around your wrist, dragging your hands away and you were forced to watch as Abaddon ran his finger across your cunt. Pressing a finger in and curling the digit as he thrust in and out, he listened to your staggered breathy moans, using your whimpers to find the spot that made you crow his name and shiver. You almost sobbed when he pulled his finger free and held the glistening digit up, frowning slightly before sticking it in his mouth and sucking. His eyes drifted shut and he moaned, lathing his tongue over his finger before his eyes shot open, locking on you.
Faster than you could react, Ezekyle slid to kneel at the foot of his bed pulling you with him until your hips rested at the edge of the mattress. His grin widening, Abaddon placed your feet on his shoulders, letting your legs fall to the side. Callused fingers rubbed circles into your skin as, eyes focused onto yours, he dragged the flat of his tongue across your cunt.
Back arched, your mind went blank as the captain grunted and mouthed at your wet heat, lapping and sucking with low guttural groans. His tongue flicked across your clit and you reacted, grinding your hips into his face and yanking his hair to pull him closer.
Electricity coursed throuight your body, curling your toes and rolling your eyes back in your head as Abaddon licked a heavy circle over you, pulling you over the edge. You came with a choked cry, feeling like every nerve was on fire, your thighs tightened around the marines head, squeezing as he continued to devour you.
"Please~" you whimpered "Too much, its too much"
Your body felt frayed; every sensation causing phosphenes to bloom behind your eyes and your muscles to ache. Only as your voice cracked and overstimulation wracked your body did the astartes pull away.
Your arousal sat glistening across his face, coating his lips and chin in a thin, sparkling sheen. Abaddon's fingers danced from your thighs, reaching down to spread your twitching hole open and watching you clench around nothing.
"Desperate thing" he breathed. "so needy"
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, lips twisting into a sneer.
"I will ruin you"
Climbing back onto the bed to hover over you, rutting his hips into yours, the black material of his body glove was stretched tight across his cock. A damp spot soaking into the fabric as precum leaked from his tip, the damp spreading as he ground himself against you.
Abaddon slipped the fabric lower and you gulped watching him pull himself free. Thick and flushed, his cock twitched as he palmed himself, slathering his precum down the shaft.
"Is this what you wanted?" He rumbled, tapping the head against your core with a wet slap. He dragged his length through your slick, hissing as he brushed over your clit and back down, nudging his leaking head to your entrance and making you squirm.
"Its too big, it wont fit" you panicked, feeling him slowly press forward. The burning stretch was immediate, exacerbated as the marine grabbed your leg and pushed one of your knees to your chest, shifting the angle.
"I'll make it fit"
"Fuck- Fuuuck"
Feeling every inch fill you had your muscles clenching and contracting, struggle to accommodate the luna wolf's girth. You couldn't talk, every cohesive though was shunted from your mind as Ezekyle buried his cock up to the base in your welcoming heat. Panting above you, Abaddon gave a tentative roll of his hip, watching your face contort and your lips part in a silent cry.
"Fucking made for it weren't you"
He thrust again, holding your hand, locking his fingers into yours and squeezing. Your body bounced with each rough thrust, the room filled with heaving breaths and the slap of skin on skin. Abaddon rutted himself against you, pinching and biting any exposed skin he could find.
He tried to dip his head to catch a breast in his mouth and growled at the awkward angle. Without pulling away he flipped you; resting his back against the wall and pulling you to straddle him, the new angle allowing him to suck a nipple between his teeth.
You raked your nails down his arms, clawing to ground yourself as your own weight pulled you down onto his cock so far you swore you could feel him in your lungs.
Releasing your chest with a pop, he trailed his lips up your throat and captured your lips, pressing his tongue into your mouth and swallowing your cries as his cock bullied your insides, claiming you.
"That's it, fucking ride it"
Abaddon's hands gripped your hips, fingers bruising into the plush of your waist helping you bounce as he thrust his hips up to meet you. You clawed at him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and gasping as his cock dragged against your walls, knocking the air from your lungs.
"Fuck, Ezekyle~" you keened, feeling his grip slide from your waist to your ass "-ss to much"
Abaddon grunted, bucking his hip and pushing deeper into your core. Ezekyle felt your hand slip up his neck and yank at his tangled hair, jerking his head backwards. He buckled at the touch and felt your cunt clench around him as your lips brushed along his exposed throat.
Thighs burning with exertion, you rolled your pelvis; chasing your high as you rose until his weeping tip nudged at your entrance before dropping back down. Muffling your cries against his skin you continued to ride him, lost in the feeling of him buried so deep inside you didn't know where you ended and he began.
"Keep going" he huffed, feeling his muscles tighten, the knot in his gut waiting to snap "Just like that, keep fucking going"
Your orgasm barrelled through you and you tossed your head back, crying his name. Your cunt tightened around Ezekyle and you felt his stomach tense beneath you; your only warning as with a choked growl, he came. He bucked upwards as he finished, pushing thick ropes of cum deep inside you until it spurted out around him from the force of his thrust, dripping down your thighs and splattering across his abdomen.
Falling forwards onto his chest with rasping breaths, you felt him twitching inside you, the last of his spend coating your inside as he came down from his high. HIs hearts hammered in his chest beneath your ear, but quickly calmed with each deep inhale he took. The same couldn't be said for you, you muscles twinged, begging for a break and your lungs ached for oxygen.
Abaddon's hand rest on the small of your back, holding you to him as your breath slowly began to even out, his thumb idly tracing a circle on your skin. Blinking up at him through wet lashes, he looked distant and unfocused, eyes creased slightly in thought. You tapped his chest, catching his attention and smiled at him.
"What are you thinking about?"
"That this was a moment of weakness I should not have given in to-"
He sighed and dragged a hand down his face. You pushed off his chest and looked away, but he grabbed your chin, tilting your face back towards him.
"But it is one I will inevitably fall to again., especially if your going to keep.." He mimed pulling his hair with a grin.
You brushed your lips over the captains. feeling his cock still seated inside you throb at the movement.
"Abaddon I-"
The room door clattered open with a clash, followed by the ringing of ceramite clad feet on steel.
"Abaddon we.. Oho what do we have here?" Tarik's voice was lilted with amusement, glee obvious in his tone at what he found.
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
(crawls out of my hole) (throws this at you) Trying to get back in the groove
Summary: 4 Mournival 1 Serf
Word Count: 910
Content Warnings: Dubcon, Power Imbalance, Gangbang (4 Astartes on Fem! Reader), a bit of exhibitionism, Degradation
Image Credit: @squishyowl
You grunted as you scrubbed at the stain on the wall. No matter what you did, it remained, taunting you at eye level. Your heart raced. Although you were naught but a serf, Abbadon of the Luna Wolves himself had hired you to personally attend to his chambers. You hadn't the faintest clue why, either, nothing about your work particularly jumped out at anyone. Except him.
You heard footsteps approaching, and you put more elbow grease into it. They were heavy, and loud, most definitely that of an Astartes. You looked over your shoulder, your heart beating in your chest, as you saw your master round the corner. He folded his arms against his chest, and you felt a lump forming in your throat.
"Sir, I promise, I'm trying to get it out--"
He loomed over you. His steps got slower, and you felt his presence behind you. You turned back to the wall, scrubbing faster until he was right up against your back. His armor was cold, its ridges pressing against you.
"Try harder," he huffed, rubbing his armor against you.
Your heart thrummed in your chest, dunking the cloth in the soap again and scrubbing like your life depended on it. You heard clicking behind you, armor being cast aside to reveal his body glove and something hard inside of it.
"S-sir!" you choked out, as he rubbed his hardening cock against your face.
"You want to keep your job, no?" he asked in response. He tore at his body glove, his cock veiny and his bush scraggly against your face. You whimpered, at a loss for words, and he chuckled. He slid his finger over an implant in his ear and cleared his throat.
"You all. Come over. She's such a whore..."
Your face flushed warm as you squirmed behind him. He ground his cock against your face, slapping you lightly with it before he turned you around. Another Astartes' footsteps edged close to you, and Abbadon slipped his cock into your mouth. As his battle brother came out from behind him, he ripped the robes covering your chest, your tits spilling out.
"Woah, you're right!" a brown-haired Astartes exclaimed. He knelt down, taking one of them in his hands. He wasted no time in pinching your nipples, your back arching in response. You squirmed around in his grasp, and he took the other in your hands, jerking you away from Abbadon's cock. A trail of spit separated the two of you, and Abbadon sighed.
"Go quickly, Torgaddon," he said, as two more Astartes entered the room. One was bald, one was blonde.
"Nice," the bald one smiled, wasting no time in removing his own codpiece.
The blonde hesitated before removing his own. "Let's make this fast," he said, "I don't have much time."
You sunk against the wall as the bald man pulled your pants down, the blonde putting a finger inside of you. You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could, Torgaddon pressed you against the wall. The others jerked away, the ridges of Torgaddon's armor pressing into your soft skin.
"Hey," the bald man said, "leave some for the rest of us!"
Torgaddon sighed, pulling you to the front of him. He held your arms behind you with one hand, holding you slightly off the ground with another. You shook in his grasp.
"Fine, Aximand, have at her," he said, huffing down into you.
Aximand pressed a kiss into your mouth, leaning down as he stuffed a thick finger into you. Your cunt greedily accepted it into you, his tongue invading your mouth and filling it up. You looked up at him. His eyes were closed and he rumbled against you, before Abbadon pushed him aside.
"I go first," he grunted, taking you from Torgaddon and rubbing his cock against your wet hole. You whined into him, clinging to his cold armor while he sunk you onto his cock.
"Shouldn't you use some--" the blonde man asked, before Abbadon shushed him.
"You can when it's your turn, Loken," Abbadon said, his cock bullying his way through your insides while he held your ankle up with one hand. You cried out in pain and pleasure, your eyes rolling back into your head. Your exposed breasts pressed against his armor.
"Mmnf..." you moaned against your lord's armor.
Two armored hands met your sides, sliding you up and down on him. You leaned back and looked up, slipping into a cock-drunk haze. Aximand was behind you, holding you while Abbadon drilled into you, his balls meeting your ass. Your eyes lowered half-shut while you felt another armored hand on your tit, squeezing with all too much enthusiasm. Your arms fell to the side, and you felt Loken's armored hand hold one of yours.
You cried out, working up on them as you closed your eyes and let them have you. You barely noticed Abbadon cumming in you, passing you off to Torgaddon as some of it dripped out of your wet hole. Your orgasm was ruined, but as your eyes darted around the room, you saw more Astartes lining up by the doorway. The one closest to you had his helmet on and codpiece off, stroking himself.
You moaned quietly. Torgaddon started to finally, mercifully stimulate your clit in emphatic motions while he fucked you even faster than Abbadon had.
"Mmn..." you moaned, closing your eyes, and letting them have their way with you.
i was put in this fandom for nefarious purposes, this one is a bit boring and i might revisit it eventually because i know i can give my princess something better
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he likes to sit with you and simply talk. face to face so you know he is listening to you, a hand on your back or on your thighs, if you let him he'll read to you until you fall asleep before he let's himself rest as well.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he is as proud of his physique as any astartes. however he doesn't quite think of himself like that, he is a weapon, a tool of war meant to kill people as efficiently as possible, it's hard to separate that from his mind at first, but he grows really fond of the way you make him see himself and his body differently. feeling your touch long after you have left his room, tracing the phantom feel of your lips over his own, his neck, his shoulders and if he stands up a bit straighter next time he meets up with his battle brothers it doesn’t really have to mean anything.
on you he likes any softer part of you, your tits, your thighs, your ass, your stomach, anything he can firmly grab as he fucks you. he likes the contrast, he likes to feel how, human you are, how soft and maybe even fragile you are compared to him, makes him think about protecting you, it really motivates him to go out there and fight better, more carefully, finish that damn crusade so he can get back to you.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): inside. he can’t quite explain the animal urge that takes hold of him when he is about to cum, but he always makes sure to bury himself as deep within you as possible, pulling your hips flush against his own, stilling almost abruptly as he finishes. he knows he is sterile, doesn’t know if he is happy with that fact or not considering how often he cums inside of you.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): this man has no secrets, let alone dirty ones. if he likes something he likes something and he straight up tells you.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): none, zero, nothing, always looking to follow the rules, always prioritizing his legion, he obviously neglected such wants/needs if he even had any to begin with, he comes to you with only the clinical understanding of everything, but he is a quick study, smart and very conscious of your comfort and pleasure. he likes to hear you tell him what you like in the beginning, don't let him stumble around blindly. he takes his sweet time learning your body inside and out before he is fully ready in his mind to take you. you meet up multiple times where he just uses his fingers or mouth to get you off, before he finally let’s you escalate things, the wait is worth it for both of you though.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): laid flat down on your front, legs spread for him to fit between them. this way he can control things more easily, pull your legs up over his shoulders to eat you out from the back while grinding his cock down on the bed or push you down fully to lay over you pinning you against the covers or pull you to your hands and knees so he can mount you properly.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): on first glance he is an unreadable-unmovable block of ice, the perfect soldier, they don’t call him starch-arse for no reason, but thats just the first layer. it is very important that you are having fun with him, that you are relaxed and comfortable in his bed, he doesn't crack out jokes as easily as others but he is a bigger tease than you might expect.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): he isn't very hairy to begin with and whatever he has is very fair like the rest of him, fair and soft and curling at the base of his cock. no happy trail sadly.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he isn't exactly romantic, he doesn't know how to do romance, but does it really matter at the end of the day? when he leans down to press his forehead against yours as he cums or when he reaches up to hold both your hands as he eats you out. he is very affectionate and very soft when it's the two of you beneath the sheets, he is always moving your hands so you are holding onto him/hugging him or taking the initiative to hold you himself.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): in the past he’d just ignore such a need, a cold shower, a quick round of training or sparring with someone, maybe some reading, but after joining the mournival and/or after meeting you he learns how much it helps him to unwind. on his bed, seated at the edge of it as if ready to stand up and run out of the room, not fully able to relax, his pants around his thighs, his hand on his cock, he doesn’t really drag it out, almost guilty about such indulgence, if he has any piece of your clothing, you bet your ass he is burying his face in it, inhaling and panting like a winded animal, when he is done he might still need that cold shower AND the round of sparring, he also has the decency to ask the serfs to wash said piece of clothing so he can give it back to you next time you meet.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): nothing special he is pretty vanilla on almost all aspects. you do find out later on he likes to have his hair pulled a bit, it shocks him as much as it shocks you, you are simply running your fingers through it feeling how long it has gotten since you two last met as he trails his lips down your neck when he sinks his teeth playfully in your shoulder. you yank instinctively and the lupine growl he lets out startles both of you.
also, fight this man, not seriously, but ask him to show you a fighting maneuvre, ask him to help you train a bit to get stronger, ask him for self defense tips, anything like that, there is a fifty fifty chance he gives you actual fighting tips, his priority always keeping you safe or he sends you off to his room to wait for him after one(1) grappling move.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do): in his room, behind closed doors after he has made sure you won't be disturbed for the night.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): he'd like to say its after a battle or after a good sparring session, when his blood still runs hot, but in reality it's when you two simply get to sit quietly together, talking. i am gonna burn in hell for sure here he is talking about his poor dead mother and i can't stop wishing his hands were unbuttoning my dress vibes, he'll turn to you smile and thank you for listening to him before leaning down to kiss you asking you what are your plans for the night as he gently nips at your jawline, his hands already moving at the hem of your shirt, thumbing the fabric as if asking for permission to keep going.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he will never bring whatever you are doing outside his bedroom, he takes his job too seriously to do so, his brothers might tease him and goad him on joking about him showing off his pretty little toy, letting them meet you, but he keeps his mouth firmly shut, so don't really expect any surprise sex outside the safety of his room.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): he is very very very dedicated to the task of pleasing you, let him bury his face between your legs and stay there the entire night, the size difference really works in his favour when he puts his mouth around you.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he has one consistent pace, he rarely falters from it, in and out of you like a machine, you don't even get to know when he is about to cum, he just suddenly stops deep inside of you and stays there for a good solid minute growling as he empties himself.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): they make him nervous, he needs to take his time, make sure he has handed over his vox for the night, called in a favor from someone to take over orders if he is called up and even when you are in his bed, he just can't rush it, he needs to prepare you, it's also very common for him to lose track of time with you after, quickies just don't work.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): following up from some of the things established above, he does not like calling in favors from his brothers, they always grin and give him knowing looks about what he has planned for the night, but he refuses to half ass anything and put you, himself or his position in the mournival at risk, he just sucks up the embarrassment with flushed cheeks and his tail tucked between his legs. needless to say he isn't very spontaneous or experimental.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): he tends to underestimate just how much you can handle. he paces himself to give you one good solid round and doesn't bother you after that even if you can see that he is ready to keep going.you really have to reassure him you can take more than that.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he doesn’t care for them, in the beginning his pride definitely gets wounded at the thought of not being enough to satisfy you, once he thinks it over though, he understands the toys aren’t his enemies. he still doesn’t care much about bringing them in your bedroom but do tell him how you use them and how you were thinkng of him while he was gone.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is a big tease, he surprises you with that, he knows your body, you know he knows your body, he can feel you, smell you, hear you, so when you feel yourself about to cum and he pulls back for the fifth time that night, in favor of kissing your trembling thighs or lazily pump his fingers inside of you, his other hand stopping you from wiggling your hips against his face, you know he is doing it on purpose. all you have to do is ask for him to stop teasing you and he will just act as if he wasn't even aware he was doing so while finally finally pushing inside of you.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): he is quiet but he pants like an animal, it's not that he necessarily silences himself, but he is always so focused to the feel of everything, lost in pleasure or trying to keep his mind clear enough to make sure he isn't hurting you, that he just forgets he can ask you.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he loves kissing, once he gets the hang of it, he is a big kisser, stealing you away briefly to greet you with a quick peck to your lips or when he is about to leave a kiss to your forehead or when you are in his room on your sides lazily making out. he definitely has an oral fixation loves when you shove your fingers in his mouth as he is fucking you, he'll have you on your back and as you move to cup his face he'll turn his head to pull your fingers between his lips, it's instinctive.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): he has a very pretty cock, pale like the rest of him with a pink head you have to tug the foreskin back from, thicker towards the base
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): he is very straight forward, there is a bit of a learning curve, figuring out what exactly the emotions you stir within him are, then accepting them, maybe asking around about the possibilities, getting laughed at by torgaddon, and finally he simply comes to you. it’s one of those nights after a good battle, after a decisive victory against the imperium’s foes, with blood rushing to his face from excitement and his brothers laughing with him, he steals away a moment to ask you to talk. he has no real plan about it, but he won’t let himself get tormented by thoughts of you any longer. after that you are kind of left initiating, he never denies you, but if you leave it up to him it's rare that his mind will fully go there.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he sleeps like a little freak, on his stomach, face mushed into his one(1) pillow, it makes you wonder if he can even breathe like that, he likes when you hold him, he won’t outright ask you, still making peace with the nature of your relationship but whenever you move away in the middle of the night he always lifts his head up to see what you are doing, the complaint evident in his grey eyes.
Oohhh yes! I am glad you asked, tomato, I am about to try some... yandere stuff with them. I admit I am less familiar with them than with the Primarchs but is that going to stop me? No! Quite the opposite! :3
Let's say you are Horus' consort/spouse and the Mournival is supposed to protect you. They take their job... problem a bit too seriously.
Ezekyle Abaddon
- "You're under my protection"
- Glares at anyone who looks at you too long
- Stands behind you at all times
- "Where are you going? I'll accompany you."
- "You don't need other friends. You have us."
- Checks every room before you enter
- Has memorized your schedule
- Gets violent if someone disrespects you
- "Say that again. I dare you."
- Horus: "Ezekyle, give them space"
- Abaddon: "No"
- Lowkey wants you for himself but never admits it
- The most dangerous one
Tarik Torgaddon
- Always smiling, always watching
- "Hey! Where have you been? I missed you!"
- Makes jokes but his eyes are cold
- "That person bothering you? I'll handle it" still smiling
- Knows where you are at all times somehow
- "Oh, I just happened to be passing by!"
- No, you didn't, Tarik, this is the third time today
- Uses humor to deflect how obsessed he is
- "I just want you to be happy! With us. Always. Forever."
- The manipulation is subtle
- Scariest because you don't see it coming
"Little Horus" Aximand
- Worships the ground you walk on
- "You're perfect. You're everything."
- Writes poetry about you (it's intense)
- Follows you like a puppy (a deadly puppy)
- "I would die for you. I would kill for you."
- Gets jealous of everything
- "You smiled at that serf. Why?"
- Needs constant reassurance you care about him
- "Do you... do you love me? Even a little?"
- Collects things you've touched
- The most emotionally unstable
- Handle with care
Garviel Loken
- "I'm just being practical about your safety"
- Tracks your every movement "for security"
- Has a detailed file on everyone you interact with
- "This person is a potential threat" (they smiled at you once)
- Thinks he's the only reasonable one
- He is not
- "The others are too emotional. I'm logical."
- Has a shrine in his quarters
- "I'm simply being thorough"
- In denial about his obsession
- "This is my duty"
- Sure Garviel, sure
How do they behave?
... on a casual day?
One day you announce you are going to the market. They declare almost immediately they go with you. There's no objection, if you want to go to the market they will surround you all the time.
Noone can get close to you.
Each of them are doing their own things. Tarik is making jokes, Loken is... securing the perimeter, Abaddon is glaring at everyone and Little Horus is just staring at you lovingly.
It's intense.
... if someone flirts with you?
Let's just say that person is never seen again. You may hear rumors of them being transferred (but between you and me, we both know something else happened). Either way each of them have alibis. Of course they do.
Horus might be suspicious but can't prove anything and these are his best warriors we are talking about. And as long they protect you? He might let it go.
Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, you are oblivious to what's really happening.
"Where did that nice serf go?"
You'd ask one day and there's a moment of awkward silence where everyone knows the answer but doesn't know what to say. Then Tarik clears his throat.
"Who knows! Anyway..."
Some more things that came up in my mind
- They know your schedule better than you do
- Can't go anywhere alone
- Your friends keep disappearing
- They finish each other's sentences about you
- Have planned your entire life together
- Share information about you constantly
- It's a group effort
- You're the project
But! There are some sweet moments. You might think of them as concerning (because they are but also it's sweet, in a way)
- They remember everything about you
- Your favorite food, color, book, memory
- Bring you gifts constantly
- "I saw this and thought of you" (it's 3am)
- Protect you from actual threats
- Also imaginary threats
- Also people who looked at you
- Very attentive to your needs
- Sometimes before you know you need something
- "How did you...?"
- "I pay attention"
So. Horus is your spouse officially, right? The Mournival are your... guards? Friends? Obsessed watchers? They're in love with you but loyal to Horus. The cognitive dissonance is real. They serve Horus by protecting you. Maybe a bit too well. So, what can you do? What can Horus do?
He pretends none of this is happening. "It's fine" he says but it's far from fine.
If you try to leave (spoiler: don't try)
- "Where are you going?"
- "The next sector over for-"
- "No"
- "What do you mean no?"
- "It's not safe"
- "Horus approved it"
- "We'll discuss this with the Warmaster"
- They do
- Suddenly the trip is "postponed"
- You're suspicious
Their justifications because of course they have some
- Abaddon: "You're too important to risk"
- Tarik: "We just love you! As friends! Definitely friends!"
- Little Horus: "I can't breathe when you're gone"
- Loken: "Statistically you're safer with us"
- All of them: Totally normal behavior
- Narrator: It was not normal behavior
On a 1-10 scale, how yandere they are?, some of you might ask (or not). Well, I got you covered.
- Little Horus: 10/10: Emotionally unstable, devoted to the point of insanity
- Loken: 7/10: In denial but just as bad, "logical" obsession
- As a group: 11/10: They enable each other
A small personal note: I'm not sure whether it's a good or bad format or how was I supposed to do it. My mind is very foggy so if it feels messy, that might be the reason. I'll answer comments when I get better! ^^
