I know part of the whole idea of fucking Astartes/Primarchs as a baseline relies on suspension of belief of the physics of taking the massive schmeat these guys would be swinging with but... What if we pushed the suspension back juuuuust a little bit? Picture this;
A primarch having to train his baseline partners body to be able to take him. Night after night, pleasing his partner with toys, watching his baseline withe and cry out over such a little thing. It's almost comical, at first.
Slowly working up in size, the primarch begins having to hold himself back. The toys are getting so close to his size, and his lover seems to be enjoying each step up more than the last. And his name sounds so sweet coming from them... But he has to wait. They aren't ready yet, but he wants them so badly. That should be him inside giving them pleasure, not a toy- even if it was modeled after him :(
Bonus: the sheer amount of lube the Primarchs would need to go through to prep their baseline partner and for the act itself could probably corner its own market in the Imperium.
Bonus 2: The image of one of the more serious Primarchs like Dorn holding a "baseline sized" dildo is funny to me.
😶🌫️🫴 *hands you the following and scuttles away*
(Gender neutral reader)
Lion El'jonson
Your wedding was coming up.
With weddings... there is consummation, the Lion has been haunted by it for weeks.
Not that he doesn't want to! Of course he does! You are his Beloved and the fact that you have both waited given his request to, which lights something hot in his blood. But now reality more than fantasy was started in dawn on him...
He was a Primarch; Primarch of the First. You were Baseline; human. There were... undeniable differences between you two... physically. Consummation would be - difficult. Unless more work was to be done but he doesn't want to engage before the wedding, yet he also doesn't want to bring you any unnecessary pain. It was quite the predicament, once he finds himself pondering on often even enough for his sons to notice. He won't share his worries, obviously not only is it highly inappropriate for his sons to hear such matters relating to their father and his future Consort but he also thinks it as inappropriate for anyone else to hear such either. As it was between the two of you the only other person it would be semi appropriate enough to discuss was... you. Emperor help him.
He keeps it entirely blunt - no minced words, no room for misunderstandings.
"You have to prepare yourself for the size of my shaft for post ceremony intercourse." You stare wide at him - not even finished giving your initial greeting to him.
You awkwardly clear your throat, letting a lingering pause pass as you exchange glances both at him and the floor, heat dusted on your face. But eventually you nod.
"I suppose... early preparation might be for the best." See? You're smart, one of the reasons why he's marrying you.
...maybe too smart, landing him where he is now currently; sat in a chair off to the side of what will be your martial bed as you work yourself.
He made it clear: he will not touch you until the night following your wedding - and he's sticking to that. But given circumstances, you would have to do... activities to make your body more... susceptible to fit his size.
You could do this by yourself but you were adamant on him staying... watching... watching you work yourself open with such lewd toys he has no possible idea where you could've gotten such! But you looked good. Fantastic. You embodied every single desire a man could have and more some. Every sound, every intake of breath, every quiet call of his name. But he will sit there.
He won't touch. He will watch. He won't touch. Not even himself. He will watch.
You come over again over, every night. And he sits there and watches, cock nearly bursting out of his trousers yet he refuses to partake - not until the night after. You on the other hand, so loud, so desperate, sounding like a whore bouncing on fake cock like your life depends on it - and every night they've been getting closer. Bigger. As they slip in and out of you he studies them, their shape, their size. Slowly over the weeks they are getting compared comparedly closer to his.
Tomorrow night, however, he'll prove however no substitutes will ever triumph the real thing.
Fulgrim
On the verge of a panic attack at first, until now the size difference between the two of you charmed him whether it would be helping you with places you couldn't reach or just how small you hand was cradle inside his. Now it hit him like the brunt force of his Flagship.
He's too big. It was the very first time the two of you were to lay together, something he's been planning so so long and he had every detail planned to the T for it to be the perfect night for the both of you, and he over looked one very important detail... he was way to massive for you to take.
You're on your back, chest heaving with awaiting breath as you look up at him through gorgeous eyelashes as he kneels there in between your legs.
His cock rested on your crotch, near inches from your sex, and it didn't even stop there; it laid all the way up your stomach - twitching and leaking. He stares at it horrified.
It would hurt you.
He would hurt you.
It wasn't supposed to go like this! It wasn't supposed to go like this!
Before he knows it you've moved to hold him, coo him, ask him what's wrong. He bites down and grits his teeth, doing his best to mask it as he shares with you the surprising information that he's too big.
You comfort him, even if the planned night is a bust you both still lovingly hold each other afterwards. In the meanwhile you think up some alternative means.
Getting your hands on such needed materials were bit of a hassle but nothing his non-questioning sons couldn't manage to handle in retrieving for you - as long as you don't ask them any questions of your own that is. You are gifted several rods of various of sizes, from the average Baseline size to... more intense ones - which of what you saw of your lover's the other night was much comparable to.
You had spoken to much since - actually, that was incorrect you have definitely tried he has just been ignoring and avoiding you. Which you understood in a way, both because he was a Primarch and your lover such... issues could be considered very embarrassing and you know how he was planning your first time for quite some time now, hell there could've been chances for it to have happened much earlier if not for Fulgrim purposefully pushes it back because of details being: "-Perfect enough for you." The other night it just seemed like all the stars had aligned but then... his cock is too big. You couldn't blame him for feeling bad, so that's why you decided to make it up to him.
All it took was for you to practice taking his size. Not straight out of the gate, of course not! But you could work up to it... maybe. No! You will! You just had to work on it in secret; in your own private quarters you would take ahold of one of these replica penises inside you and... work on the stretch. Progressively building up a size when you grow comfortable so that eventually you can take your Beloved with no issue.
Weeks pass and it seems Fulgrim is back speaking with you without issue, just avoiding the looming subject all together as things go back to the way they were before. Meanwhile you are hard at work on yourself at night, biting your palms to hold back your noises as you push in sizes you never held before all while hiding the wailing cries of your lover's name.
He was looking for you, a Serf had said you retired early but he still wished to see you and hoped he didn't catch you too late.
He did catch you though, just not asleep.
You make the most gorgeous noises he could have ever imagined - has ever imagined. Even through your best attempts you cover them with his superior hearing he can hear them just as clear. Your begs, your whines, your pleas, the wetness, his name.
He peeks through the crack in the door and sees you on your back; writhing in purple sheets attending to yourself with absolute gusto. Then he eyes the source - they widen triple once he processes how large and how stretched you are over it... you... and how you take it so well. Did you...?
It's a mild jealousy - jealous over a toy, how petty of him - but how he wishes that hunk of rubber was him. HE would make you feel a thousand times better than a toy ever could and-
Then it hits him.
...were you preparing yourself to be able to take him?
Well, he shouldn't let your efforts go to unappreciated, besides he still has to check if your measures ever worked. If not... he's got a couple ideas that could push it along, he's been thinking and sorting a lot since your last encounter after all!
He nearly scares you have to death once he pushes open your door to and lets it slam behind him in turn, prowling to your bed where he can loom over you.
"Darling, let's have a do-over. Shall we?"
Perturabo
"No." He ends the discussion right then and there.
You look very disappointed in turn, bowing your head as if you were ashamed of your question. Which you should be, after all the Lord of Iron has much more actual important tasks to do than - than... relations.
And yet... even as he works you continue to linger in his thoughts, you and your suggestion. Your strange suggestion. Or was it strange? Such bonding activities are supposed to be expected from couples, correct? He's never had that much interest in it - though he's not most people and you two weren't most couples. Though you were Baseline, Baselines also are expected to have such animalistic desires. And even if he tried... physical size is still an issue...
Hm. Maybe he can do something about it afterall, more superior, in his own specialties. So well in fact you may never interrupt his work with such drivel ever again.
Out of the blue one evening your lover interrupts you from one of your daily tasks to instruct you to follow him to his personal workshop. You get the usual glares from the Warriors of Iron as you two pass as they still don't like you - which Perturabo glares back in turn; he's not a fan of them either. Once inside the shop the door shuts behind you and your lover marches over to the back work station.
"I need your assistance with some experiments." He finally, bluntly explains. It still leaves you to question it.
"Couldn't you have Serf-"
"I asked you to do it." He spits back. "Besides either they would crumple to dust the mere second or I would be disgusted even thinking abo-"
He stops himself, shooting the briefest glance back in your direction before turning back to whatever it was he was doing. "Nevermind."
He leaves you there standing in the awkward silence for a bit, only breaking it with the alternating clickering and buzzing from whatever the Lord of Iron worked on in front of him. For a moment you think this whole thing was a ruse just to spend time with him, just in the indirect way your lover operates at times when it comes to your relationship - however, that line of thinking seemingly becomes incorrect as he turns to address you once more.
"Strip." You have to double-take, not sure if you heard him correctly the first time. Which gets him to fustratedly correctly himself and elaborate with a low growl in his voice. "Strip, then get on that chair."
He pointed to a chair not that far from his work station, it was made of iron and slightly leaned back. Your blood turns hot. Greedy knots twist in your stomach. You obey.
The chair is cold, especially against your naked skin, but you lean back in the chair where you're almost laying in it. You look cautiously around when suddenly you notice the looming, long wired, hovering claws attached to the sides. They wavered directly above you as if they were in wait - and turns out they were as suddenly you are grabbed and further pinned your limbs tight in their grasp as you are roughly handled and further adjusted.
Your wrists are captured in locks on the arms of the chair, your ankles are grabbed and pushed to where your legs are up and spread out and bowed open - showing off your exposed sex - two of the mechanical limbs keep you held there and is so strong you can't move them.
"Pertur-" He stands off to your side, surprising you. "-what're you doing? What is this?"
"What does it look like? Fulfilling your needs."
"This uh... isn't exactly what I had in mind... but... I think it could give it a go..."
"Well whatever you think of, I can come up with better."
Then from out of the chair comes various different continents, all in different shapes and sizes, some with different functions than others, but all designed for your maximum pleasure for ever orifice. It takes you a bit to get use to it but you quickly melt in tandem with what they give to you. And you're still locked in place so there's no place for you to run and hide. And Perturabo stands by and assesses, taking mental notes as his carefully crafted tools ravage you whole - already even making several plans of what to change and add while the sound of both you gagging on fake cock and your hole being pounded to echo throughout the shop.
When it's clear you need breath does the cock pop out of your mouth and do you begin to whine. Your curse out, gritting your teeth as your legs strain against the claws, but does the cylinder fuck you harder until you come begging for it. Begging for him.
He'll give you the next one in size now, stretching you wide open, so fast and deep the seat of the chair your on is now completely soaked.
Size increase.
"Please, please, please, please, more, more-" You cry, the more he hears it... the nicer it sounds, more than he would've originally thought. He should give you the next one increased in size for that, morbid curiosity how you would sound then, the desire nagging at him to do so.
Louder. As expected... he likes it.
What if he puts two in?
"FUCK!" ...yes. That's... appealing.
Size increase.
Three?
More and more, the louder and more desperate you get and the more he genuinely starts to experiment with you. Genuinely more interested in such than he ever expected himself to be. You sound... look... in a way only he could make you. This was his designs after all, his planning. He did this. He did this... but yet... even with you fucked out expression, hoarse voice, body twitching in ecstasy, and wet sounds... it wasn't enough.
No. It wasn't.
In one click everything stops. You look around, dazed and confused. "Wha-"
In front of you, in between your legs he reaches to hold your chin as he begins to pull out his own length, bigger, larger, wider than anything you've taken tonight free.
"I think you finally deserve your Lord now."
Jaghatai Khan
Is not unfamiliar with the subject, he has had many Baseline lovers throughout the years, he knows what he's doing to prepare for such task.
You will need to relax, calm any nerves and anxieties you might have for what's about to come ahead. His kisses are uncharacteristically slow, so are his hands as both are laid and danced all about you. He has you sat up next to him as he does this, making sure your full attention is on him.
He is big, but all his brothers are big. What is there to fear? Fear is only tangible when you let it take it take hold - and he is hear, what is there to fear? The words themselves are rarely said out loud but the two of you love each other and with that love your bodies will fall in tow and sync to fit together, even with a extra little work. There is nothing to fear.
His fingers are as wide as the average Baseline's cock, they will be a comfortable stretch to start out with, one at a time. For you? He's willing to go slow, provide you comfort and adjustment... for now - until he deems it acceptable to pick up and getting you clench tight around his fingers and spraying onto his hand. That's just the start, the start for awhile.
Then he pulls them out; tools - fake rods, he made them himself, safe for use, various different sizes and girth. You will train yourself on them, so your body can deem itself comfortable with such extremes, until then you will always have one inside - yes that's right, all day. Even as you do your daytime chores you will always have your hole occupied - did he mention they vibrate? Then at night he will watch as you desperately quick fuck yourself on them; coming on them over and over and over until he deems fit. But for now? You're still not ready for him whole.
However, one night he tries something. He puts you to the test: can you fit the head? He watches under steady lidded eyes how you split yourself open around it - your moan loudly echoing out each corner of the yurt undoubtedly for his sons outside to hear, which he doesn't care: let them.
Your nails claw down on his shoulders as you sink yourself further and further but never truly going that far down on it. He doesn't push or rush you, tears streaming down your face as you painfully hiss - but you don't stop, you are very determined. Which is very sexy.
Then finally, it pops in.
You pant and heave, looking up at him for approval. He can only softly smile while he brushes a thumb across your cheek.
"Good job, Little Sparrow. See? Nothing to fear." Although his eyes do drift lower down your body, his hands returning to your hips. "Do you want to try sinking lower?"
Leman Russ
Too big?! Groxshit! He could make it work! Trust him!
He could not, in fact, make it work.
He tried his best, grinding the head against you to try and ease it in but yet it still was too much of a stretch you weren't used to when it did threaten to push in. He could've with ease still push it in but you were his mate, the last thing in this very existence he would want is to hurt you. There was also another matter... if you could barely take the head there was no way you could handle the knot formed at the base of his cock.
"Shit-" He growls fustrated, only quick to regret so when it causes a desperate flurry of sobbed out apologies that he has to shush away from you to stop. "S'kay, it's all okay."
He'll just... have to think of something else.
The best ideas come when you're drunk - a Space Wolf proven fact. Around a fire, feasting on the grand hunt of the night, drinking and singing as Fenrisian man-pups play about - the boys among them bragging how they'll too sit amongst the fire serving the All-Father as a Wolf one day, getting a roaring boast of laughter from Russ' sons; their elders. Leman always gets a kick hearing the pups speak, if it were actually possible he would've loved to been able to have some of his own but the stars didn't deem it so.
Over the many years he's seen pups yell these exact same claims only to actually keep their word and become his sons - hell some of them sit around him right now, that's why these youth get as much encouragement they do. All his sons started out so small... then grew, grew to bare mighty fangs.
They start out small.
Small.
Start out small.
He immediately picks you off if his lap, slings you on his shoulder, slaps your ass and gives the loud gaggle of Wolves a slurred parting before carrying you back to his tent.
You are both very drunk.
You are clumsily set down on the cot in a fit of giggles as his fangs mark up and down your neck, exploring hands at your sides. Your head rears back with gaspy calls of his name as calloused hands stumble underneath your neck, then your pants, and then your - oh, would you look at that? You're naked! He likes seeing you naked, even tells you this in your ear that gets you into a burst of giggles that only increase as he attacks kisses, licks, and bite on and around the small of your ear.
"Leman," You call, voice a bit more serious once you're laid back on the sheets. One look in your eyes, he knows.
"Small." He mutters. "Start small, end up with something greater - just takes a bit of work."
Like the pups that grow to be Astartes.
He eats you out like your his last meal, makes you come over and over and over until his face his soaked and his jaw is sore. Then he works you with his fingers, they are much much larger than the normal Baseline's - more comparable to the size of one's cock which in your scale was more appropriate.
Every night. His needs don't matter - he can bust through his trousers if he must, no, it was about you. Getting you comfortable, ready. Start small then work your way up - one finger, then two, then three, then so on. If you can fit his fist you can handle his cock - if you can handle his fist without struggle, then you can handle the pop and lock of the knot. One push at a time.
You're his mate, he doesn't hold a single doubt.
You can do it.
Rogal Dorn
He was too big to fit inside your fortress.
Actually, deadpanned and most serious, is what he tells you word for word as you sit straddling his hips on top of the desk. You can't help your laugh.
"What? It's true." He defends, not understanding why you're laughing. You can only kiss him in turn.
You had a plan. He wasn't ready for your plan. He wasn't knowing what he was expecting, even running through various scenarios in his head as you have ahold of his hand and leading him to your bed chambers. Once inside you invite him over to your bed, pulling something out from underneath: a locked box. He doesn't see exactly how anything you could retrieve from there could be a possible solution for your current predicament, so h-
And that is a penis.
You pulled out a silicone penis.
"We can practice with these." You clarify, gesturing it and the various ranges of other toys you had inside the lock. Where'd you even get such things?
But never mind that - he takes the wiggling rod from your hand to assess. It looked structurally sound. He gives it a squeeze. Firm with support. Wide and thick, about the size of am average Baseline. He deemed it safe for use.
The others however... might require some testing.
He watches you thrust your ass back onto the toy, back and then forward, back and then forward, and repeat. The suction cup attached to the end of it was secure tight onto the rich wood of the bedframe - not even you sharp movements could deter it. That was good. He then looks back up where you're hovered over him, backwards straddling the sides of his head. Underneath you he had good view of the toy sliding in and out of you, breaching your walls, your arousal dripping onto him in tapping drips into the pool of wetness that already covered his face. He could study you best from down here.
Once your movements starts to get uneven or you loose balance he reaches up to hold you by the hips, stirring you back on course.
"Rogal," You rasp. "-Rogal,"
You're getting closer. How should he proceed in hurrying that? Ah, yes.
His hand slips back down to reach and start stimulating your sex. It's good action as it immediately gets a whole body shake in response and you start bouncing back more feverishly. Desperate.
Your words no longer are coherent. Your breathing ragged. Nothing matter to you now more that chasing release. Release he grants with one slow lick to your skin.
Your bed is quite the mess given how soaked it is.
You pant and still whine feverishly as your body gives out, your limbs crashing out. He can only sit push you over to flip you off of him and onto your back, but still he hovers over you to meet you lopsided gaze from your ninth orgasm of the night.
"If we truly are going to achieve getting my prick inside it is going to take quite the bit more work fortifying your inner walls for such the tide." He reports, but then leans in closer right to your ear. "But personally? I don't care if we go into the early hours of the morning, I can arrange it so happening tonight."
Konrad Curze
It meant a lot that you actually want him to do this - trust him to do this.
He still doesn't believe it, doubts plague his mind yet... the glimpses he does get... are good, nice. They're comforting. He won't harm you. But he is still careful... whatever he is exactly to do, he has only the bare bones idea on.
But there was a problem; his size.
He doesn't see it as an issue at first just - "Won't it just go in?" which in turn you have to explain in detail. Then he sees the issue.
Oh.
He would greatly like you not actually torn apart by his dick. That's extremes more of his sicks sons would enjoy - he is not his sons.
You come up with a plan: substitutes, something smaller to work at first then build up to something bigger to prepare yourself and your body to be ready for him.
"Isn't that unnecessary? We don't have to do any of this is the first place." He argues, you would be safer that way. But how you look at him... "Fine."
Finding 'substitutes' is harder than you might think it, here on Nostramo - word somehow gets out amongst the Legion where severed penises start to be offered by his degenerate sons that he would grab and teach a fatal lesson to if you weren't present. Served penises... what a bunch of disgraces.
You do eventually find something, cheap, tacky, rubber you managed to grab from a rare Imperial supply ship - a few of them actually of different size but none even remotely compared to him. Going from the largest to him will be quite the leap in difficulty. But you were determined. For some reason.
But even with the smallest one, you sound... really good. Soft sighs turning into choking whimpers as you work yourself open under his dark gaze.
He doesn't touch you - not until you make him. Then his his shakes slightly shake to fight back the violent instincts thrashing at him but eventually it soothes. He can touch you. Touch your soft skin. It's nice, better than what he imagined it.
Then your hand finds his, clasping ahold of it, guiding it down in between your legs and bumping against the rubber length that occupied them. He's very hesitant. Very. Extremely. But he then takes it.
He doesn't know what would be too fast or too hard, seemingly you read his thoughts and reassure him you would let him know what is too much. He moves it, drinking in the immediate noise you make in response. Then again. And then again. And again. Over and over until he has found a rhythm suitable for you - a rhythm that makes you cry and squirm with pleasured glee.
Still moving, he gathers the courage to use his other hand to touch you further, studying each of your reactions to determine good or bad. You beg for him, plead for him - not in the way someone would in fear of their live but... good. He was treating you good.
"Konrad," You whine. He slowly leans down to kiss at your neck and is slightly shocked when you wrap your arms around his shoulders, keeping him close.
...he likes that.
The noises you make, they're more frantic, more loud. By looking at you tells him they're good reactions. He was still doing good. And you tell him, tell him out loud over and over there is even more a tight stirring in his pants. It keeps going, on and on and on until-
"Konrad!" With a shouting cry his hand is soaked to follow. You then pant, going limp.
For the faintest of moments he's worried until you give him a lazy smile before pulling him down onto you for a kiss, giggling as you part, hand on his cheek.
"I'd call... that a successful first test." ...yeah.
...he can't wait to do more.
Sanguinius
He desires you. Greatly. Dearly. Desperately.
However he leashes the Beast tight. That desire isn't one of just sexual nature, even though how much he's been fantasizing over it, but one of blood. That is what puts him at unease.
It's tantalizing. How much longer and sweet your kisses have gotten; arms wrapped around his shoulders as he bends down to meet you, wrapping his wings to cover you both from any of his passing sons so that they may not see you intwine lips. Your hold around him is more seeking, searching, leading. And you are not the only one rippling testing waters either - he may or may not have slowly slipped a squeezing firm on your backside, more than more.
It was dangerous. A very dangerous game the two of you were playing. One that standing back and looking in... scares him. He has desires, he wants to share them so desperately to you, to share his love with you but at any moment that damned monster can lash out from it's cage and catch it's fangs deep in your throat and rip you apart.
He would rather keep you alive and safe that situate his sexual wants. However... it was quite difficult to do so when you so clearly had your own; expressing them to him almost like one of the peacocks from Fulgrim's gardens.
Touches and strokes to his wings.
Playing with his hair.
Staring at him for long dreamy periods of time.
Bending over to reveal the absence of undergarments from under your robes...
It nearly drives him mad.
So much so he can't take it anymore - pressing you down onto the bed and reeling at the touch of your hands scooping up his exposed arms to his shoulders where his robe has mysteriously slid off him, grazing your fingertips over the small pin-feathers adorn and sparce areas of his skin. His wings thrum and puff from excitement as he looks down at you pinned to the mattress, golden locks swooping down to tickle at your flesh.
"You have no idea what you do to me." He lowly shares through a growl, you can only smile.
"No... but I might have an idea..." You drove him practically insane!
He leans in close, right up to your neck and deeply takes in your scent. Crimson eyes rolling up the confines of his skull to commit it to memory.
His fangs ached. Throbbed.
So close, so close. Mouth open, breath fanning across your neck. One bite. One bite.
He he pulls himself away, drowning into your kiss.
His wings are soft against you, delicate. They provide comfortable pillows as with his fingers he works you open whole, lips too occupied to ever leave yours but only for brief seconds for you to catch your own breath and then pulling him back towards you again.
He takes in every sound you make; every pant, every sigh. When he does look at you he does as you are his whole entire world. You whine, you whimper, you even grab a whole of his hand that fucks you open. But he's always careful, you are his Beloved and you've never had anything the comparable to the size of his fingers before. He can hear your heart, hear the blood inside you. He swallows it down though - not even his licking hunger could hold a torch to the divine way you sound.
And then you come. Over and over again you come. Coming so much it soaks the bed twice over. And even still, the cruel part of it, even with all of it it probably would be enough wetness to ease his cock inside. But that was okay. You didn't have to rush things... he was in control over himself. Even with all the growls and thrashes that monster was inside its cage. He would refuse for it to ever come out in front of you. He would not let it dictate him or control his love for you, his desire to make love to you. And how he loved you; now held close to him and exhausted.
One step at a time. Maybe he will get that privilege one day being inside you.
Ferrus Manus
Very much a hassle to convince him to engage. Extremely so. For one matters of the flesh obviously not being one of his interests and two... let's be reasonable; his size. For that he doesn't see the point and shoots you down.
...but. He gets thinking about it, a stir of guilt churns through him. Not that he feels pressured, obviously, but maybe he could've been less rude about it. He thinks about it for weeks to a point it's effecting even his work. But then he stops, looks down at his machinery - maybe the answer was more simple than he thought.
He makes you equipment, proper equipment. Top quality equipment. Thoughtful and tediously planned equipment that he would best assume to fit your needs.
"I made you something." Once they're ready he presents, delicately packaged. He intently watches you open it, studying your reaction - which looks confused.
"What is it?"
"Tools to provide you sexual pleasure."
You long at him for a long moment, a sigh eventually leaving your lips accompanied with a soft smile. "You didn't have to do this."
"But I did." You look at all the technical rods and pleasure items.
"Well it means... a lot you thought of me." Yet there's this still look on your face, there was something else, something more of longing. He holds onto it. Something in him changes.
"They haven't been tested... perhaps I could - supervise?"
You look back up at him mouth agape, like you didn't expect such a suggestion from him. And honestly? He didn't either. But you nod.
And now, his metal hands shifting between hot and cold as he keeps your legs held apart while he watches as his creations go to town fucking you raw?
He doesn't regret it.
Angron
He shouldn't. He'll hurt you. The Nails demand to hurt you.
...but he wants this. Wants it more than anything but he's just too terrified what he'll accidentally do just to appease the sharpness in his head. He tenses every time you touch him but deep down he craves it. You treat him so gentle. Even if the Nails scream at him to rip your hands apart at the touch.
But still, even with his wants, he'll still hurt you - this time not even being the Nails' faults but due to his own size. He hates it. He hates it. The one thing! The one thing!
He gets upset over it and even if he tries to hide it you sniff it out anyway where the words just fumble themselves out of his mouth.
"...too big."
You look at him for a thinking moment, reaching your hand down before pausing, asking silently. He harshly swallows but he nods.
You pull out his length, gigantic compared to you even half hard. You look surprised at it yourself - which makes it twitch harder and leak from the tip, spilling down the shaft.
"I think... this might kill me." You say joking but there's this unignorable shakiness to your voice.
PUSH THEIR HEAD DOWN. IMPALE OUT THEIR THROAT WITH IT. TEAR OFF THEIR HEAD. FUCK THE BLOODY MEAT LEFT BEHIND.
Quickest he's ever moved he goes to pull himself back in only to freeze in place as you place your hand atop his. "I got an idea."
The Nails rattle off in his mind that he bites down and remains still while you are gone, a part of him spits how you won't come back and shouldn't. But you do, with a box. You sit back in front of him on the bed before undoing the lid. And honestly whatever the Nails say next he can't even focus on with how hard his eyes nearly pop out of his head.
"What the hell is that?!"
You bite your lip as you look at him before glancing back down. You begin to wiggle out of your pants then proceed to sit back on the bed, your legs curled up and then bowing open so he may see your hole. You reach to grab at one of the objects.
"If you're too big, then I can work with something smaller." You hold the fake penis to your rim, staring at him, chest heaving with breath. He watches you rub it against you, coating it from slick arousal from your sex. He watches with hunger as in his hand his cock further throbs, not to long do you start to make noise.
"Angron-" You gasp as it slips it without much resistance. You begin fucking yourself with it. He watches intently as it goes in and out. In and out.
The cock was small, the average size for a Baseline, yet with work even you began to mewl around it. Watching you his own hand begins to move on it's own to pump around himself, trying his best subconsciously to match your rhythm.
Wet. Wetness rings his ears, drowning out the scratches - which were still there, just he was too focused on you to give as much of a damn about them. For now. Until they get louder, but for now, his attention is on you fucking yourself.
Each time you gasp, cry, or curse your name is a stab at him. He wishes to reach out and touch you... but he can't. And then you come. Over and over, trading out your objects of pleasure for bigger and bigger that it becomes a cycle.
It takes quite a time for himself to come, even with the loud shouts in his head, but when he does it's loud and in tandem with you. His chest quakes, his fist covered in filth, he looks over to you to see how fucked out and tired you look.
"(Name)," Breathlessly he calls out.
When you move your limbs are shakey - he's about to tell you in desperation to stay still and stay back but even in your sluggish movements do you crawl over to him. His bones tense, he tries not to make any sudden moves but you slowly and gently wrap your arms around him.
"You did so good," You praise, face in his chest. A dry knot is present in his throat he forces himself to swallow down. He returns your touch, very loosely draping his arms around you.
BREAK. BREAK. BREAK.
"You did as well. As unexpected as it was."
You peer up at him, your eyes so beautiful. "If you're comfortable... maybe we could do it again. And maybe once I get use to it - we could do so for real?"
CRUSH. CRUSH. CRUSH. CRUSH.
He would like that.
Roboute Guilliman
The idea to 'train' sounds reasonable to him. There was a certain... difference in size, too much so that couldn't be ignored.
He goes into research mode, looking into all the ways he can possibly work to solve such issue; looking into techniques, positions, all the sort - and all this without telling you. He is a good significant other, though inexperienced, he has good intentions he just wants to be considerate if things between you two turn... to coitus. He just wants to be prepared, even if he nearly jumped out of his skin to quickly hide his 'research' tome from the Chapter Master suddenly stopping by his office.
So, when the time comes: when your kisses grow more frantic, your fingers grip tight in his hair, and the spot in between your legs becomes more searching flushed up against him as he holds you is when he decides it's finally time. He parts your kiss, calmy takes one of your hands, and slowly escorts you to his chambers.
Inside he leaves you by the door, leaving you in wait as he retrieves the box that took so much secretive hassle to procure. From inside he grabs one, the smallest, then walks back over to give to you.
A penis.
The Primarch hands you a replica penis.
You stare at it in shock, as no one has ever handed you a penis before, especially not by a Primarch. You're not actually sure what to say as you look back slightly confused at your Beloved, who still holds that calm composure that can be difficult to read.
"I would wish to engage with you." You give the silicon another glance, making your lover clear his throat. "As I am... not fit for your size - yet - I would wish that we... work towards it."
And that's how you got to this point in the present; every bit of paperwork and decorative items roughly shoved off his personal desk to have you bent over it, one hand on the small of your back while the other pounds you frantically with the small piece of silicone held in his palm. Your nails scrape harsh against the hardwood surface with each punch of your moans and cries.
Given your Baseline size and the desk is fitted to seat a Primarch your feet dangle off far the ground - such a cock throbbing sight to see, such so you deserve to be drove into faster. He bites around your neck, voice sounding low, lower than you thought it possible, and words hit with a dark tone you would've never had imagine coming from the Primarch of the Ultramarines.
"You know I was nervous to request this? I was practicing speeches, memorizing poems, I even had a presentation made ready if it really came down to it. Little did I know come to it you'd be begging like a whore in heat. And for what? Something so small? So minuscule? I wonder how you'll sound when I put something more worthy in."
"Robou-" His hand on your back slips up to quickly tug back at your hair. You can see him, deep blues half hidden under contemplating, calculating eyeslids, staring down at you.
You come.
Your body shakes, bones jelly, breathing rocky, vision hazy. Light kisses are pepped across your shoulders and down your back until you are picked up, silicone slipping wet out of you, carried over to the soft, soft, bed. You look lazy at your Beloved, kisses still shared across your skin as you are on your back, he looks up at you as he sinks down lower - down on the ground on his knees so that he may lick you clean and further dirty his face then some. Your hands barely leave his blonde hair further that night, his Laurels are somewhere on the floor.
But that begins your training, every other night on his schedule he has it blocked in. And Roboute Guilliman is a through man, now matter how long it might take he will do his job to the fullest. No shortcuts. No slacking. As long as your comfortable he will focus on the task at hand and the goal set out. And each one of your little... ahem... sessions gets you both closer to that. Increasing the size of the decoy in quite the pace of time.
Sometimes he likes fucking you with them. Sometimes he likes to sit back and watch you bounce on them - once you even had his cock to your mouth while he fucked you with the silicone at the same time even. You know, over the years he's built up so much stress that in these past couple of weeks have all seemed to just melt away. Apparently it's even noticeable, Cato Sicarius even made a comment on it recently and he actually struggled to hide in the cheeky grin.
But now... now came the real thing. The actual event.
You are pampered, nearly drowned in soft velvety pillows as he has you on your back with your legs hooked the best they can around his legs. Your breath is uneasy at first, but soon comes to calm as he reassures you, reminds you to breathe. In between your thighs he holds his cock in the palm of his hand, so massive compared to you. But you could do this. You could both do this. You had practice. He gently rubs it against you, your hole as soaked with as much lubricant and come as he could possibly get there.
He looks at you, one final reassuring look before you nod in turn. Alright.
One.
Push.
Two.
Push.
Three.
Pus-
Holy Emperor on Terra.
Mortarion
With him? Surely you're not serious of such a thing.
...yet you are, how genuine you look up at him, you are. It honestly scares him but... he's been through worse. Still terrifies him - he's too big compared to you - what if he accidentally harms you? Or you get disgusted and change your mind and-
You half to comfort him, keep reassuring him everything will be fine. You have a plan and would gladly want him there, to be with you, to love you.
He's still cautious at first, his touch on you being very hesitant as you guide him along where you like and want best but eventually he does get a hang of it. Slow steps. Touching, then caressing, then fondling.
From the corner of his eye he watches your every reaction, studying them, analyzing them like you would a pinned moth. But... it grows nice, warm, he doesn't have to be too cautious or careful as control washes over him and you no longer have to provide guidance. You were feeling good, he made you feel good - and only with his fingers. This wasn't as bad as he thought it - though again, only his fingers, you weren't in any harm. You were... pleased with him. With him. With him, of all people.
You weren't disgusted or revolted. You craved for his touch, clasping and clawing at his shoulders pleading for more. He was making you feel this was.
He was.
He makes you come. And it only took his fingers to do so.
And you look back him, with loving eyes, all his past fears vanish. He can slowly, yet confident in his actions, dip down to kiss you.
"I want more of you if you're willing to offer yourself to me."
Magnus the Red
Not a problem with him, with his magics he can mold and shift in shape to fit any that could be compatible with your needs. His true form however... you might need some endurance training before you can truly take him.
Still doesn't need toys, he can summon just about anything to fit you, spilt you open, slowly spreading your insides open and apart. All while he just watches as you barely straddle his hips, with the exception of his magic sparked hand he doesn't have to do any work - just watch this little show you've put on for him, begging and sobbing for him.
"Very good," He praises, running a thumb across your chin. "-very good."
Then once you're settled and quite comfortable of the size of the shaft you're working with, he challenges you by increasing the size of it while it's still in you - absolutely delighted with your squeal. But you take it, of course you take it, you are so good and perfect for him.
Do you have fantasies? Anything you desire he can give to you in a single snap, with the bonus if it's too embarrassing or shameful none of it is real (to an extent) and the only one else who will be aware to remember it is him. Though he will tease. But he will give it to you. All you need to do is ask.
His hands to eventually wander, scouting every bit of skin he could possibly reach and then some. You're such a vision to him, he tells you both in your ear and inside your head so that you really do experience it.
The rods going in and out, in and out, more and more with time increase inside - so much it physically bulges from you but you take it all, take it all with no resistance or assistance just as you wished. You wished to feel him. And this was the only way you could possibly prepare yourself for him via penile creations manifest from the Warp. More and more. Time is nonexistent to you both.
Until you're screaming that your ready.
Your legs shake, soaked and slicked with sweat and come. Your breathing rocks your chest, each pant an anchor for air. Your eyes wobble and unfocused as you try your best to look at him with pleasured tears down your face. It was enough. In one fluid motion does everything disappear from inside you, leaving you to fall limp against his chest.
He treats you delicate, laying you gently down on the piles of pillows, calmly rubbing your skin, giving you reminds to breathe. His kisses are sweet, spreading all around your neck and shoulders. He is massive lingering above you yet his voice is so small against your ear.
"Are you finally ready, my Beloved?"
Horus Lupercal
Finds it both extremely amusing and very arousing.
Jokes about instead of using toys letting his sons play around with you just to get you prepared for him - he jokes, he jokes. He is way too much of a jealous possessive man to do that.
No, instead he seeks out to retrieve anything and everything possible to make sure you are comfortable and secure. Even though he gets quite a lot of questionable looks when he requests and receives supply shipments - all he waivers off either with his famous charisma or roaring insult of how dare they question the Warmaster, all depending on who he's speaking to and how moody he is at the moment. He takes your preparation very seriously.
Toys? Any help could possibly think of. Lube? An entire planet's supply gone. Rope and velvet? For much later. You? Properly fed and hydrated to keep your strength high. You will need it - or not, if you're okay with it he has no problem hoisting you around and using you like a brainless fleshlight but hey we're thinking too far ahead. Soon.
The man is a romantic, scattered rose pedals, scented candles, everything. His bed is huge and soft and you will be right home on the center trying not to drown on his comforter. He loves you but this all important too getting you to relax. He doesn't rush things, even if Not-So-Little-Horus has been raging the moment you both entered the hall leading to his private quarters.
You get naked, he gets naked, all while barely leaving each other lips. On the bed all spread out for him he worships you whole - not a single centimeter of skin goes ignored - and his hands are so giant against you and you're so tiny, oh how it gets him going even further.
He makes sure your first orgasm isn't from anything other than him and actually he manages to get two; mouth on you to lap out the first and the second immediately to follow as he eats your filth up like a dog. It gets a barreling chuckle from him as you grind your hips to his face and your nails sharp on his hairless scalp.
Then it was time, time to start training your body in preparation for him. Small, miniscule, length at first of one of the toy rods - barely even a warm-up, especially in the mess he's made of your hole. Only one or two empty thrusts in before he tosses it across the room for something bigger, something more appropriate.
The gasp you make tells him he found the right one. Nothing to extreme, but enough to provide a good stretch, to train you.
It's easy, effortless almost, how he can make you come. But her cherish and drinks down each one like a parched man on the verge of death.
Then he determines you deserve something bigger.
And then bigger than that.
And bigger than that.
And - oh, this one vibrates. He'll put that on your more sensitive of areas.
More and more until you're sobbing with glee, begging and pleading for him, thrusting your hips to meet the palm of his hand that works each toy into you. You were the most loveliest of visions. And you'll look even more so once your wrapped around his actual manhood.
Oh how his cock throbs and screams demanding for it.
Oh - Throne - he might burst a vein in his cock thinking about how full he's going to make you, how your Baseline stomach would be able to handle to pure raw demi-god amount of it to where it'll make your stomach swell and you leak for days. And still you would be begging to fill you with more.
Faster - he has to go faster.
You're screaming and wailing, your fingers dug so tight onto him he faintly bleed through his Primarch flesh. Harder.
"Horus! Horus! Horus! Horus! Horus!" How you sing, voice nearly shred raw. You needed more. He will give you more. More than you could even possibly take because you deserve it that much. Something only HE could provide you. No man in this whole universe could exist that could give you the pleasure he can give you. You were his.
Your last release practically makes your voice go useless. It's louder than what these four walls can hold and no doubt can the rest of the Ship and his sons hear it too. Let them. Let them know what doesn't belong to them.
He lets you rest, your conscious temporarily lost as your bones turn to pure liquid. He gently kisses you all over once you finally do wake, your voice still an ability lost on you.
A wide wolfish grin spreads across his face looking down at you.
"You're not leaving this bed until I fit inside and pump you full. That's a Warmaster's promise."
Lorgar Aurelian
You are a very sacred being to him, of course he would not want to harm or tarnish your holy body! But... you wish this act from him and he would never dismiss your divine desires. Though it leaves him in a bit of a rough spot - but not for long. It comes to him very quickly, these rituals; rituals to worship your flesh so that he may not bring any harm upon you when you join as one.
Every night he worships, from head to toe. With bless items, safe and pure for insertion, goes inside you to path the way for his future placement. He drinks in every coo and whimper coming from you like the most sacred of piety. He does whatever you please of him, he'll do whatever you want or need him to do to bring you pleasure. It doesn't matter he'll stay up all night to make you come as many times as you possibly could desire you just need to tell him.
When the day comes you're ready it is actually a ceremony.
Many candles are lit. Hymns ring throughout the Chambers. You might think it too much but he thinks it a show of his devotion. He is the utmost gentle, each kiss one he means and spreads all over your body.
He worships your naked form whole, committing every single part to memory, he runs his hands all across it. He whispers, both praises and prayers for only you and you alone to hear.
You bow your legs open you him and he eyes your sex as if it is a true wonder of the Galaxy - which to him it is, and he hands it with such care.
"My Dearest Beloved," He whispers against you. You have to come at least a dozen times before he'll even allow himself to take part in your heavenly spoils. Which when he does-
Oh how he knew his devotion was such worth it.
Vulkan
This was very much the titanic ask you were requesting of.
Not that he doesn't wish to do so, he's ashamed to admit his mind does wonder at times but... he is one of the biggest of his brothers. Handling him will be a difficult feat, but again you are strong.
It's only fair if he helps ease your burden best as he can.
He makes his own tools: yes they might come from the fires of his Forge but he's made them with considerable care - making sure there are both strong and suitable enough, that it's extra moldable and comfortable for your insides. He makes several of them - all with the same amount of care, each one - from small to large to... very large. They all present different stages you can... practice with.
When you first go to use them he's extra tentative, because he loves you and such tools haven't been properly used before but he's very careful, checking in on you every chance he gets - to a point you have to shut him up by vocally letting him know just how good his projects are making you, that regains his attention so that he may focus himself on your pleasure.
Honestly? Things go off without a hitch. You too focused on each other and the pleasure the other brings; he's taken to controlling the thrusts of the tool while you stroke his cock in tandem until you both reach your end at once. He could always go for more but he never pushes you - once you're done he's done. And it continues like this for many weeks, many weeks increasing size as you're comfortable to do so.
Until comes the day you finally tell him you're ready.
"(Name),"
He's never been scared more of anything in his entire immortal life than this very moment. You hold onto him, kneading at him, yet staring at him with all the love and confidence in the world you were ready. You were ready. And after looking over you, he was too.
He was more than ready to show you his love in full.
Corvus Corax
His kisses are soft, feather-light. But they've been growing more... searching these last few days. It was a subtle change, but one you noticed nearly immediately though perhaps chose not to comment on it so soon. Letting it simmer across a couple more encounters before you make the leap.
"You're more tactile as of late." You state. He can only hum, not an actual answer. An in between. A one or other. An avoidance.
A make-what-you-wish-of-it.
It doesn't stop his kisses at the Two of you are perched atop a Chapel, pepping on your neck.
"Does this displease you?" Calmly he asks.
"No..."
"Then there is no issue." He goes back to it.
Strange as it is, you let it go. For now. Not until one night you glance at the shape from the corner of your eye.
"Late night visit?" Your addressal makes him slowly appear from the shadows.
"Forgive me, I didn't know what to say if I knocked..." Your smile softly at your lover from your place in bed, patting the spot next to you as invitation to join. Hesitantly, he does.
He leans against your shoulder as you read, eventually even silently reading along with you. Then your hand reaches up to pet at his head, at his silky hair, does he lean into the touch more easily than normal. You definitely notice.
"You okay?" He remains quiet, not usual, but what is is the kiss he suddenly catches you in. Taking your by surprise as your tongues colliding and heat grows between you two. Growing and growing until the book is dropped out of your hands and you slowly fall down to the sheets of the bed. Corvus pulls away.
"I can't get you out of my head - I don't know what to do with myself." He quietly rasps.
You look at him, genuinely surprised, but you can't help but to feel the hunger you've been ignoring for to long either. "What... what do we do about it?"
Your question makes the raven look down at himself, worry in his dark eyes, how large he was just hovering over you. It... it would be a problem, it-
You cut off any line of thinking along the lines he has as you grab his hand and place it between your legs.
"Small," You assure him "-small. One step at a time."
He could do that.
It takes him a minute to get use to the motion but it doesn't take long for him to quickly master it - being tactful with his fingers. One at a time, is all you can take at first given just how much a single digital fills you. Then when you get comfortable with two does he begin scissoring you with them.
There isn't much stand between you two, but there doesn't have to be, much has been learned how to be expressed shared silently only through the eyes. And does he share so much by the way he looks at you, drinking in every little noise you do make as he cherishes your spoils. He gives you the slightest head tilt along with his unoccupied to brush some hair out of your face so that he can continue to get a proper look at you, so that with eyes along you can sing to him how good he's making you feel, you more and much you want him.
He'll do this for however long you need. He'll kiss and give you everything he possibly can. And when your body is spent he'll hold you secure in his arms until it's time to disappear into the shadows once more.
And in the shadows he awaits for next when he can have you.
Alpharius Omegon
If stressing about one Primarch cock was enough - now you're presented with two, two that very much want to be in you as one; they are one after all.
It was quite a predicament though, how were they going to go about this? Hm. Maybe you should focus on the one. But they are one! Well they were a very large one. One too large for you. So that didn't solve the issue.
Wait, alright, if you were going to take the one then which one? They were all the one. They are all Alpharius. But which Alpharius?
Certainly not that Alpharius, he's not the Alpharius.
Well that's the unfair assumption. What if that Alpharius who would suggest such a thing actually wasn't the Alpharius after all? What if he is an impostor?
What? No? They are ALL Alpharius. This is no imposter amongst imposters. That's silly.
But one Alpharius is more Alpharius than the rest, surely.
That is un-Alpharius talk. Are you sure you're actually Alpharius?
Of course! It would be foolish to assume otherwise.
...
What were we talking about?
Ah yes, somehow you've found yourself somehow with the solution to your problem and now are engaged in an orgy with the rest of entire Legion while this discussion between Alpharius and Alpharius has been happening in the background.
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