Perhaps a 40k character of your choice and someone not very comfortable in their body? Shamelessly self inserting I guess. Thanks so much! ☺️
[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]
Author’s note: Decided to do Guilliman. You didn’t specify anything (which is fine!) so I kept it vague for you. Enjoy!
Relationship: Guilliman/Fem!Reader(no pronouns are used, but reader compares themself to Fulgrim's wives and also mentions wanting a dress so femcoded one could say)
Warnings: None really
You wonder how Macaggian history can be so, boring. These history tomes Guilliman had given you while interesting, have largely been unbearably dull; Filled with little more than debate and the trials of leadership.
You had far preferred what Russ had once told you about the history of Fenris when you asked, though you’d never dare speak that to your beloved Primarch aloud.
Said primarch returns to your shared room not moments after you think of him, raking a hand through his own short blonde hair.
It’s quite late, the moon is high in the sky and has been for awhile now, and you assume he hasn’t had any rest in multiple days given you’ve seen little of him these past few. He’s been even busier than usual, since visiting Terra. Even if he has his Commanders take over a good portion of his duties while away from Ultramar, his duties on Terra tend to overtake his time and then some.
With nary a hello, Guilliman climbs onto the bed you’ve been reading in and swiftly lays down on it. The bed groans under his weight despite having been made for someone of his size.
He much larger hands reach to grip you by the waist and pull your closer, laying his face on your stomach overtop of the fabric of your nightgown. Your legs go over his left shoulder, as his left arm curls around your bottom, hip, and up your side to hold you close.
“Guilliman?”
He sighs into your belly.
“Give me a moment, if you will. I’m at my limit with these men today.” You assume he means his fellow primarchs. “Let me enjoy you for a bit now that I’m free of them for the time being.”
You want him to be happy, but you can’t help but shift a bit under him, nervous as he speaks so overtly, and touches you with so little hesitation.
“Are you sure you’re comfortable?” You whisper, nervously twirling a piece of his blonde and ever so slightly grey hair around your fingertip.
“Yes. You are perfect,” He says, your eyes widening at the declaration. You're so offset by it your mind wanders and can’t help but mumble:
“I find that hard to believe…”
You feel him suddenly tense, and he lifts his head to look at you.
“You do not believe me?”
He almost seems insulted by it; Like you think he’s a liar. You shake your head as you look away from his furrowed brow. You hadn’t expected him to spear you to the wall so harshly for your self-deprecating comment.
“No I just…” You grunt in frustration at not finding the right words. The Macragge tome he'd given you lays at your side, and you push it away a bit more. “I sometimes just think there are people out there far more, physically suited to stand beside you than me.” He loses some of his insulted demeanor, but his brow stays furrowed as you pick up pace and begin rambling.
“I mean, look at some of Fulgrim’s wives they-“ He cuts you off with his stoic, firm voice.
“You know how Fulgrim is. You know why and how they look the way they do.” He sighs, the wrinkles around his nose and eyes exaggerating for a moment. “Forget all of that.” He points a finger at you.
“And don’t bring him up again, I’ve had quite enough of him and his comments for quite some time.”
You smile a bit, and he softens. He’s glad you find his aggravation amusing somehow. You do wonder what Fulgrim commented about however; Though you know he has a habit of sometimes treading a bit too far into Roboute’s personal life. Into everyone's personal life honestly, though Roboute having you has made him the prime target of Fulgrim's gossip and colloquies.
His hand squeezes you reassuringly, arm continuing to awkwardly cradle you. He raises his other hand to brush his thumb across your cheek for a moment.
“You are perfect to me. You don’t need all of those lavish things.” He adds on. “Unless you want them, of course. I won’t deny you anything I can give.” Your smile gets wider, and he feels your body relax against him.
“I don’t need any of it,” You pause. “But if a dress showed up one day I wouldn’t complain, per se.”
Thankfully Guilliman can tell you’re clearly joking, and rolls his eyes. You speak up again a bit more subtly.
“Or maybe something a bit more, delicate? You could pick it.”
Guilliman takes a moment to catch your meaning before he awkwardly coughs, looks at you gentle but expectant smile.
“I’ll, see what I can do.”
Guilliman swiftly ends the topic by returning his head to lay on your stomach, and rest his eyes for a moment to the feeling of you raking your fingers through his hair.
I'm the person who keeps wanting to see a less stoic dorn (different tastes maybe) and It just occurred to me, why not use that as some potential angst? (With a happy ending or I will disembowel you >:(.).
A relationship with someone who never shows affection would be pretty miserable (part of the reason while I may simp for "tsundere" primarchs for the kink I wouldn't wanna date them irl), ESPECIALLY if the reader has some preexisting self esteem issues, all the feelings of "I will never have this" in regards to small things like lovers giggling and looking into eachothers eyes while looking at their brick wall of a partner (not husband yet because my heart wants this to be an issue that gets resolved earlier in the relationship, not an awful marriage) who can barely say "I missed you". Potentially guilt over feeling feeling this while having the attention of A PRIMARCH, but still feeling it nonetheless, the old "I shouldn't be sad, I have such a good life". So I request reader dealing with these feelings of being unloved, possibly seeing some really affectionate couple and just getting salt rubbed in the wound, and one day just getting fucking pissed at Dorn for it.
Dorn, being the stubborn bastard he is initially angry and an argument ensues. Only to then realize... she's miserable, she feels unloved, lonely even when around him. Cue Dorn (in whichever way he does) trying to make someone feel loved and be affactionate.
I have all of your asks my dude, I’m working on it. I completely understand the nervousness of not knowing if I got your ask, but if you keep sending and it is working, it gets a bit frustrating for people to sort through. There’s 37 other people in my ask box not including the 15 or so I have in my drafts. Please be patient, my turnaround time is slow and I’m trying my best :’/
“But perhaps God is strong enough to exult in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, "Do it again" to the sun.; and every evening, "Do it again" to the moon. It may not be automatic monotony that makes all daisies alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never gotten tired of making them. It may be that He has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.”
