#sevatar x reader

[baldieboi]

In the spirit of Night Lord Brainworms, got an NSFW Alphabet for Sevatar.

YES, my Night Lord brainworms are satisfied (for now)! And happy! And I definitely planned to do a Sevatar nsfw alphabet so THANK YOU! <3

Tagged, anyone can be tagged, ask me:

@the-mysterious-detective @mehiwilldoitlater @theonceunknown @gravedwe11er @lesboficfanatic @bunny-fair @drowning-in-sorrowing-tales @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @fandomcatchall @thebetterblacklight @incrediblethirst @beckyninja @ilovewolvezz

Jago Sevatarion NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He won’t sweet talk you but he’ll pull you against his chest. His thumb traces every bite mark and bruise he left. Brings water without asking, checks you’re breathing steady and then keeps a heavy hand splayed over your hip or between your thighs like he’s still claiming you. Whispers low Nostraman against your skin while his fingers idly stroke through the mess he made of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On him: his hands. Those are scarred, lethal but capable of pinning you exactly how he wants or curling inside you until you’re shaking. On you: your throat. Loves the way it flutters under his mouth, the trust when you bare it while he’s buried deep. Bonus points for your eyes when they’re glassy and locked on his.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Possessive to the core. Loves filling you until it’s leaking out or pulling out to stripe your tits, stomach, face, tongue. Watches it drip with dark satisfaction then smears it over your skin or pushes it back inside you with his fingers just to hear you whimper.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Fantasizes about you taking complete control. His wrists bound, you riding him until he’s begging, using his cock however you want. He’d rather die than admit it but the thought alone makes him ache.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Plenty of rough, no strings fucks in his past but real connection? Feeling you come apart because he learned your body? That’s new and he’s greedy to master every inch of you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything face to face so he can watch you break. Missionary with your legs over his shoulders or you on top grinding slow while he grips your hips hard enough to bruise. Loves when you take what you need from him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc)

Dark, dry sarcasm slips out “Made a mess again, didn’t you?” but once he’s deep inside and lost in it? The jokes die. Just raw growls, ragged breathing, your name snarled like it hurts.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc)

Not groomed at all. Thick, coarse black curls at the base of his cock, wild and untouched. Gets slick with you every time he buries himself deep, that rough patch teasing your clit when he grinds in to the hilt. You’re obsessed with how raw it feels.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is not for soft words, he is intense in his own way. Remembers exactly how you like to be touched, lets you trace his scars mid thrust, locks eyes while he’s moving slow and deep. That stare and the way he says your name like a vow. That’s his version romance.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Rare privacy means fast, brutal strokes thinking about your mouth, your soaked pussy, the sounds you make when you come. Finishes hard and fast, annoyed at how easily you ruin his control.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Biting and marking, teeth in your throat while he fucks you hard. Praise wrecks him completely, call him yours, tell him he feels perfect and he’ll lose rhythm. Light choking, blood play, you fighting back until he pins you down.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His quarters. It's private, no pretending, just you spread out on his bunk for hours. Sometimes a shadowed corner of the ship, your back against cold metal while he takes you quick and filthy. Never anywhere another soul might see.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your defiance. The way you push back, mouth off, meet his eyes without fear. Touching him like he’s not a monster. Watching you be sharp and deadly in battle makes him drag you somewhere to fuck the attitude right out of you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that truly harms you beyond what you beg for. No real terror, no sharing, you’re his alone. Anyone else even looking too long earns a death sentence.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Loves giving. He'll spread you open and devour you until you’re grinding on his face and sobbing. Receiving undoes him. Your mouth stretched around him, your throat taking him deep, makes his control snap.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc)

Usually fast and brutal, pounding you into the mattress until you can’t speak. But those rare slow sessions where he is dragging every thrust, grinding deep, making you feel every inch, that will leave you both wrecked.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc)

Takes them when duty demands and shoves you against a wall, one thrust and he’s inside, fucking you hard and fast until you’re both spent. Still prefers the long nights where he can edge you until you’re crying.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc)

Curious and willing. Tell him what you want and he’ll try it, that cold Night Lord stare turning hungry once he sees how much you love it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Astartes stamina is ridiculous. Multiple rounds, hours if you can take it, until you’re trembling and oversensitive. Always watching, knowing exactly when you’ve had enough.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

None. Slightly offended at the idea “You’ve got me, why would you need anything else?” Everything is skin, teeth, cock and raw intensity.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Merciless tease. Edges you for ages, his tongue barely licking your skin or cunt, his fingers just short of where you need them. Smirks the whole time, loving how desperate you get.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

He isn't loud. The sounds he makes are deep growls, ragged breaths, your name in Nostraman when he’s close. And that low, filthy narration in his deadpan voice “So wet for me… gonna fill you up again.” Makes you clench every time.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has the Nostraman word for "mine" tattooed low on his pelvis so you see it every time you take him in your mouth or ride him. Still won’t translate the words he growled in your ear while he was still inside you after but that sounded suspiciously like I love you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is big. It's thick, long, pale and veined. Stretches you perfectly once you’re used to him. You crave that full, overwhelming feeling every time.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High but controlled. Duty first but the moment he has you alone the leash snaps and he’ll keep you full of him for hours to make up for any time lost.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Doesn’t truly sleep, the Night Lord instincts are too sharp. Holds you tight, his body's curled protectively around yours, still half hard against you. Stays vigilant while you pass out safe and wrecked in his arms.

[yanagikou]

Had to get this scenario out of the system real quick, so it looks a bit rough (one day i will scan my drawings, i promise. But today is not the day lol)

Sharing is caring, right? 👀

Used bluish grey paper to make it feel dark and oppressive, just like onboard of a Night Lords vessel.

[wxnheart]

Amāre Divinitatus (Interlude): "…the express image of His person...”

When his primarch revealed your name to him, yet another covenant broken between them, he barked out a laugh, one that was reminiscent of his father's own. It was dry, brittle. It felt... unnatural.

He wondered if it was retribution for some unexplained slight yet to happen, or if, in his twisted madness, his father sought to salvage something of his son's personal being, if only to lament the futility of it all afterward. An inheritance from the child of a god...

He resisted the urge to laugh again and briefly considered what could have happened if he hadn't.

It only seemed natural to guard the broken covenant of your name like some 'sacred' treasure. It was certainly what his genesire did; he was open and willing in many ways, but for that, the bane of his primarch's folly? None would dare come near on pain of death. It was an unspoken treachery between father and son when he knew, when he realized, and perhaps the mere utterance of your name was betrayal paid in kind.

And at this, as he took to watching you with detached amusement, he chuckled.

Of course, your origins and capabilities were of little interest to him; he'd seen weaker in stronger bodies. However, the tiny slivers of curiosity that had influenced him took note of the covert glances thrown his way, of the slight, almost minuscule way you inclined your body towards him no matter the distance, of a clinical pulse, a dull pounding in his head, a lasting impression that required no use of his gift to analyze, even though your voice rang loud and clear.

And when he was alone with his broken covenant simmering beneath pallid skin, he snorts and then barks out a laugh in the hopes that his primarch is in earshot.

You do not want this, little one.

It was not because he questioned your abilities. It was because you could not possibly comprehend the depths of what you desired.

And he watched until he no longer did.

When it was you two alone, perhaps a mutual coincidence, with the broken covenant of your name threatening the silence and your voice too loud in his head to ignore, he stalks forward languidly, the barest hint of amusement distorting scarred, pale features. You kept your distance until you could not, when you felt the cold wall touch your back, and your breath went still as his armor pressed slightly against your chest and he had you entrapped.

He leans down, dark gaze rendering you rigid. He watched, contemplated, and analyzed, all without saying a word. So, too, did you.

You dared to breathe again, to move and bring your face closer.

He leers in response, perhaps a little mirthlessly, too, but it does not matter. Not now at least.

His scars felt like dark promises under your caress.

— Jago Sevatarion.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Eternal Night (Part 5/Finale)

Summary: After the destruction of Nostramo, Sevatar gets emotional and wants to see you.

Jago Sevatarion/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, power imbalance, violence, predator/prey, stockholm syndrome, noncon

Word count: 2581

Song: She Wants Revenge - Sister

Still he pulled back the sheets And said, "You better lie down, 'cause the angels are watching," She closed her eyes and said, "Quit the talking You can hurt me, do whatever you like,"

Sevatar had long since left the captain's bridge. The legionnaires lowered their heads, trying not to look at the man. The serfs, almost crying and trembling with fear, fled to their holes. Even the most fearless brothers tried not to get in his way, feeling the wrongness and creepiness. It was as if his dark soul had found a way to spill out. The air shook with his Gift, which he could not contain due to strong feelings.

There was little that surprised or awed the First Captain. His mind worked differently. The man still remembered the Zoa Tower, which Shang called beautiful. Sevatar could not understand how one could define something or someone as beautiful. However, now he could fully realize this when he saw the destruction of the world.

Nostramo, a world without sun and law, was destroyed no more than an hour ago. But Sevatar still saw the destruction of the universe before him. What was created by the Galaxy over millions of years disintegrated in a matter of minutes. How the threads of life were cut, tectonic plates shifted, and magma flooded the planet like blood.

It was a wonderful sight.

A sight that haunted him even after the world was left in ash, the ships set off far from their home system. Even when the first captain gave the order to kill every dissenter at Nightfall. Be it mortal or space marine. The primarch's order was law and they had to obey.

His family had long since died, and distant relatives served the Night Lords right here. Besides, he never liked his hometown. Tall mines in which one had to work until exhaustion. The smell of adamantium and black clouds full of toxic rain. The only thing he will miss is the crows.

Sometimes the man regretted that he had not taken them with him on the ship the last time they were on Nostramo. But years of self-control and meditation helped him cope with the consequences of the Gift. And with you, he completely forgot about his curse for a while.

You. Your image immediately appeared in his head when the red glow of the burning world disappeared from his black eyes. Sevatar immediately realized that he wanted to share this moment with you. He wanted you to feel the same way he did. A man wouldn't risk taking you to the porthole. He only liked to see you in his chambers. But maybe you can see it in his eyes?

Sevatar slightly opens the door to his quaters and remains on the threshold, not daring to enter. You sat at the very end of the room, legs crossed and ears covered. Rocked like a child, hoping to calm down. You felt Nightfall being torn apart by the countless number of weapons that were used. Heard the despair of the planet being destroyed.

If you were a psyker, did you hear the screams and tears of the dying?

You feel how the air in the room is changing, how your hair is electrified from a strange sensation. As long as you dare to look at the returning man. Your eyes, filled with fear, light up with a spark of hope.

“Is it over?” - much to the space marine's disappointment, yes. Apparently his face spoke for him because your eyebrows immediately furrowed. - “Sevatar, are you fine?”

The last time anyone showed concern about his condition was his mother. Huh, Sevatar didn’t think about her for many years. It's not that he misses her. But you appeared and images of his mother hugging him in the hope of easing the pain began to emerge in his mind. You did it better.

“Yes, little mouse, I’m fine.” - the man succeeds before going inside, locking the door. - “Now finally help me take off this armor.”

You quickly jump up and rush to the space marine, attentivelly and extremely carefully helping the man remove the second skin. You are too weak for such weight, but your delicate fingers easily cling to the necessary parts, giving the man the opportunity to remove the armor. You both are silent, each thinking about your own.

“That chronicler that we hung at the entrance. What did she do? - the words cut through the silence like water through a stone. Sevatar was about to leave, having discussed all important matters with the primarch, but a question arose by itself. He didn't even understand why he asked it. But worst of all was Konrad Curze's smile.

“Oh, she took part of the report on Piamen joining the Imperium. To make a list of questions and write a book. But without asking my permission and taking away important documents, theft was committed. The criminal deserved her punishment.”

Sevatar raises an eyebrow at the primarch's excuses. Not that he regretted the death of the annoying remembrancer. He didn’t care, besides, an order is an order, it must be carried out. It was just that he was partly amused by Curze's attempts to justify his thirst for violence as a noble act. The Night Lords were justice, but there was no point in denying their dark desires.

“Be that as it may, everything turned out only in your favor.” - pointed teeth stretch to their full length, like a crescent moon. - “No more keeping track of a useless crew member. And you began to sleep more often, didn’t you?”

“Are you scared?” - you nod confusedly and the man chuckles. He shouldn't have asked such an obvious question. Even though you were safe and began to perceive Nightfall more as a home, you were still an ordinary serf girl. For whom Cheraut Incident is akin to the end of the world.

The fact that Konrad Curze almost killed his brother, after which he hastened to hide in his native system, raised trepidation among mortals. The Night Lords were only too happy to mock their cousins, but even they were surprised at such a sharp attack from the primarch.

All the time on the way to Nostramo, the ships languished from human fear and the gloomy anticipation of the space marines. Opportunities to bring justice to their home world. Final and irrevocable judjment at the cost of billions of lives.

“The whole planet was thundering. And people screamed so much. I think I can still hear them crying. Or maybe my imagination is running wild, I-I don't know. I never would have thought that one of the worlds of the Imperium would fall in this way.” - you pull your head into your shoulders, putting the last detail back in place, realizing what you just said. - “Beg your pardon, my lord.”

“Hmm, it’s even a pity that you were hiding here. Seeing the whole world die is an unforgettable feeling. Especially if you came from it. Imagine if Terra was also destroyed.” - Sevatar grins, enjoying your surprised look.

“B-but that won’t happen, the Emperor won’t allow it.” - you were so frightened by the very thought of destroying the heart of the Imperium that you began to contradict your master. But Sevatar was in a good mood and he even liked your hope, flimsy as dirt.

The first captain doesn't answer you. Doesn't know what to say to this. If the Emperor so wishes, Terra can be destroyed in a matter of minutes. Or, on the contrary, the Legions would line up to protect the planet. But first and foremost, Sevatar served Konrad Curze. He was ready to carry out his orders first and foremost. Like now they have already destroyed the world. Their former home.

The man sits down on the bed, not taking his eyes off you. You fiddle with your hands, not daring to approach Sevatar until he gives you an order. Obedient girl. As you promised, you served him well and he appreciated it. Maybe he should have sent you to bed or touched your tattoo again as usual.

But today Sevatar was overwhelmed with feelings and he realized that this was not enough. He needed more. He didn't know what exactly he wanted from you. However, the desire to devour you took hold with incredible force as soon as he remembered the death throes of Nostramo.

The man pats the bed next to him. Sevatar chuckles as your eyes widen. Just like a crow. It's not that you were afraid, but the first captain's behavior was unusual. Even if he cares about you, the unknown is always scary. Especially on the Night Lords' ship.

You purse your lips and hesitantly approach the bed before lowering yourself onto it. The air filled with heat. The man continues to study you, not knowing what to do with you next. Until an idea comes to mind. Spontaneous and foreign, but it’s just right for a space marine. After all, why not satisfy his curiosity.

“Take off the top.” - you shudder, unable to understand the order. But your hands still reach for his shirt, as soon as Sevatar frowns. His voice drops, almost sounding like metal scraping. - “I won’t repeat it. Strip.”

You quickly remove the cloth, trying not to anger your master, looking at him carefully. Waiting like little prey to see what the predator's next move will be. But the snap of man's fingers pull you out of thoughts and you almost whimper, removing the fabric covering your breasts. You want to hide from the examining gaze, hug yourself with my arms. But you don’t do this, unable to move.

And Sevatar looks at you, unable to understand his train of thought. And why did he order you to do this? The body is like a body, ordinary mortal skin, on which it is easy to leave bruises (he can already see a couple) and easy to remove. The flesh is soft in comparison. Two bulges that reveal your femininity. Nothing special, he had seen naked bodies more than once in skinning pits.

But he can't turn his back on you. Something about you touches him. Sevatar clenches his teeth, almost growling. You cower, finally covering yourself, as if in one moment the man will tear you apart. In part, that's what he really wanted to do. Sink his teeth into the flesh, tear out pieces of meat, bury himself in your hair and remain in your scraps for an eternity.

Hearts sound loud and fast, echoing in a man’s head as he moves closer to you. Unwanted thoughts take over the mind, throwing all irrationality to the wind. He must touch you. He must tear you apart. Should kill you. Must be inside.

You can hardly breathe when a heavy hand touches your shoulder, caressing the tattoo. But this time Sevatar doesn’t turn you around with your back to him. Quite the opposite. With his other hand, the Space Marine throws your arms off your breast and presses your waist to him. The little heart is beating fast like a mouse caught in the clutches of a beast. The cheeks warm with the realization that the man is wearing only a loincloth.

The silence is abruptly interrupted by your short scream as Sevatar sinks his teeth into the line connecting the shoulder and neck. He was too cautious and careful so that you wouldn't break. But it still hurt you. The man licks your wound, enjoying your sobs. He fixes his gaze on you, hoping to see your suffering. And freezes.

Your eyes are wet, your mouth is slightly open. You were hurt, but there was something else in your face. Soft and gentle, long forgotten and buried in the depths of the minds of the Night Lords. But even as a mortal boy, Sevatar cannot remember a similar look. Only his mother looked at him like that, but still there was a difference. You didn't see him as a son.

You raise your hands and run your fingers over Sevatar's shoulders. Tender, fragile fingers that have never known hard work, have never held a weapon in their hands. Until you finally lock them behind his neck. You press your whole body against him so that he can feel your breasts.

For the first time in a long time, the man's breathing becomes unbearable. But not from pain, as usually happens in battle or because of the Gift. Sevatar would even say that he feels better than ever. His hearts began to beat even faster, and heat rushed through his body. You hissed in pain, feeling the hot skin beneath you. But you still clung to him.

“I can break you.” - he won't kill you. He won't let anyone hurt you. Any man who dares to look at you or speaks to say goodbye to his life. - “I am your master. And you are mine. You’re mine, aren’t you?”

He didn't like to share. Never lived in the slums of the night city. Not now, when he took the place of first captain. If he wanted something (and this rarely happened), he devoured it without leaving a trace. The Terminators were loyal only to him. And you. You should have given yourself to him too.

Sevatar watches with a sigh as your eyes fill with tears, rolling down your cheek. He instinctively licks them, touching your cheeks with his tongue and lips. Your eyes. And your lips. The last part of the body especially touched his nerves, but the man restrains himself so as not to rip out your lower face with his teeth.

“Do whatever you like.” - you pronounce the cherished words with a breath and a groan. Before fearfully and hesitantly rushing towards the pale face of the killer holding you captive. Your lips touch the scar on your chin. - "I'm yours."

You're a good girl. You are very very good. It’s even a pity that you fell into the hands of a beast who can barely control himself. Which knows only how to kill, cut and torture. But he will learn. And may it always hurt you, you will enjoy it just like now.

Sevatar tilts you until your head hits the pillow. The man settles on top of you, squeezing your waist and shoulders. He runs his fingers over the tattoo. He remembers, no, he studies what has eluded him all these years. What he was deprived of as an Astartes.

His hand lands on one of your breasts and squeezes, making you squeak, digging your nails into his shoulders. A bloody grin runs across Sevatar’s face, causing drops of your own blood to fall on your face. His hips move against yours on their own, as if imitating a process erased from his code.

This is only an imitation perverted by chemical treatment. And even so, Sevatar realizes a simple truth. He wants to be inside. He wants to take his sword and plunge it into you up to the hilt. He wants to fill you up so that liters of blood pour out of you.

Sevatar peers into your face before burying his nose in your shoulder with a groan. The whole body and mind are overwhelmed by a contradictory feeling of peace and rage, merging into a strange symbiosis. There is a confession on the tip of his tongue that he wants to say, but he can’t because he doesn’t know what the words are. Only one thing comes to mind.

“Call me Jago.” - the man almost closes his eyes from the coming sleep. Ahead there was only eternal night .

“This means?”

“Yes.”

[moodymisty]

(really sorry if this is sent more than once, firefox crashed right when I hit Ask so im re-sending it just in case)

Local Konrad apologist here to request a continuation to your 'Sevatar hunting you' oneshot you posted awhile back. sfw or nsfw, either is fine

(if you dont want to continue that plotline, np!! Just literally any Sev content would be hype as fuck, not gonna lie. love that man sm)

and i hope you and your pidges have a wonderful day❤

Soft continuation of this request

Author's note: Hell yeah I’ll continue that one! I love Sevatar <3 I hope this is ok! It didn’t quite flow the way I like but I don’t want to hold it up forever

Relationships: Sevatar/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lewd kind of, Violence and gore warning, Pet play technically? Sev calls you his little pet, Dubcon, Biting

When Sevatar had captured his prey, he made sure not to let it go. He dragged you back between his teeth to his den aboard the Nightfall, and you haven’t seen a Salamander since.

Sevatar has done much work in making sure your base needs are tended to- such as food and water to keep you healthy and soft - while on the Nightfall.

You are most likely the most well kept baseline aboard the ship, and many others refer to you snidely, jokingly, as Sevatar’s prized little pet.

He does a lot of prowling around to keep other Night Lords away from his catch, predator proofing his quarters.

While most Night Lords would hesitate to disobey him, or tread in quarters not their own or of their stature, Sevatar knows that his little pet is worth the risk.

You’re soft, clean and fragile, and unlike many of the serfs aboard who know how to hide and not be interesting enough to toy with, you whimper and cry and beg enough to make an Astartes mouth wet with drool and his hearts pump faster.

You don’t do as much anymore- With the Salamanders long gone that wound has faded, and you know despite his demeanor, Sevatar doesn’t break his toys. He seems to take quite good care of them actually, and despite the wounds he leaves in your body, the food he gets for you and the quarters you live in is almost comparable to life with the Salamanders.

Sevatar is returning to his quarters, looking downward at his knife when he feels as if something is off. He puts his knife back in its sheath, turning the corner to finish his trip to his quarters.

His body goes rigid when he notices the door is open, locks busted and completely torn apart. Only one glance inside confirms you’re gone. Your scent is fresh still however- this only just happened.

Sevatar runs down the halls, slamming into the shoulders of other marines who quickly try to give way to him, and halfway through the hall a singular Night Lord yells:

“If you’re looking for your pet, the idiot is taking her towards the barracks.”

He also hears the same man mumble about how he warned the thief, and that he wants to see his how Sevatar will display his guts for being a blackhand.

He catches up with the thief in the halls, spotting him carrying you with a hand clamped over your mouth. The other arm is around your waist, legs dangling and kicking uselessly.

Sevatar approaches him from behind and pulls out his knife and closes the distance lightning quick, slicing the wrist around your mouth so he doesn't crush your head. The Night Lord instinctively drops you- Sevatar hears your yelp as you crumble to the metal floor and presumably twist something - trying to defend himself first and foremost. Sevatar had the advantage however both in surprise and sheer strength, and within moments manages to get the slightly smaller Night Lord on the ground.

You can only watch as the two throw punches and tear at each other, eyes wide.

You hear the crunch as Sevatar’s knife drives through ceramite armor, reaching the black armoring suit underneath. The younger Night Lord attempts to clamp onto Sevatar's body but his one wrist is mangled and won't listen, while the other attempts to grab his neck in a desperate last ditch effort.

The first stab managed to crack ceramite armor like the outer shell of a bug, it takes a second blow for him to stab through his black carapace, and reach his organs. The marine lets out a shout as Sevatar's gauntlet gets covered in bright red blood, and you can only watch in a frozen stare as he mangles the younger night lord's body into a crushed, bloody mess.

Sevatar finishes by standing up, and grinding his head into the floor with his boot, splattering blood all over the floor.

A few Night Lords pass by, rolling their eyes at the mess and speaking along the lines that he had it coming, for disobeying Sevatar.

One also mentions that Sevatar wasted a meal by crushing the Astartes like that, and even just the implications of him feasting on the man’s brain matter has bile rising in your throat.

Blood is still on your face from his initial attack, alongside whatever splattered your way as you laid on the floor and watch him crush your kidnapper. Sevatar leans closer, and he laughs when he smears it across your face with his gauntlet.

He’s examining you for any damage, and other than a sprained wrist from when the Night Lord dropped you to the floor, you’re unharmed.

“Messy.”

You say nothing, but instead lean forward and wrap your arms tightly around his neck. Sevatar noticeably stiffens.

He supposes in your mind he is your savior. The Night Lord who had broken into his quarters more than likely wanted to toy with you for a bit until you broke, then throwing you into the garbage.

It’s good to know that you’re attached to him. That you know he is your best option, and that you won’t consider trying to sneak off. While he loves it when you cry, when you beg him to stop, there’s also a part of him that loves that you want him. How lately, some of your begging has turned into cute little whimpers.

Picking you up off the ground to return to his quarters you latch to him like he’s going to drop you as well, arms around his neck.

He likes the feeling.

Perhaps some of the other Night Lords would prefer it if you ran, if you hated him, but Sevatar wants you to want him. He wants to feel that rush.

He hasn't had his armor off in about it a week, but they're safe enough in Imperium space; He can take it off for a bit.

He won't let you out of his sight while he does so however, setting you down right in front of the armoring platform as he has the serfs and mechanical arms take away piece after piece of ceramite. It can sometimes take almost a half hour to armor up a marine, removing the pieces is significantly shorter. He leaves his black armoring suit on to take off in his quarters, and pushes you back there like he’s herding an animal.

He looks briefly and notices how that Night Lord broken open the lock; He'll remember that.

He watches you quickly scurry inside of his quarters, his den, sitting on the bed and trying to pick at the astartes blood coagulating on your face. You look so small on the massive bed, and the way you curl your legs up exaggerates the difference.

"I was asleep when he broke in... I didn't have time to hide or find you."

Sevatar laughs at the idea of you being able to hide or run from an astartes.

"Just shows that I need to keep a closer eye on you. You make a lot of trouble for me."

The way you look at him is concerned. You think he's considering getting rid of you. That you cause too much trouble for him. That couldn't be less of the case. He knew what he was getting into when he stole from the Salamanders.

Walking closer he stands and towers over you, seeing the hesitation and fear in your eyes when his hand comes close to your face. Instead of your neck however, it wraps around your jaw, and he forces your mouth to open with his thumb.

"But you're a good little pet, aren’t you.”

He loves the way your mouth wraps around his thumb- warm, wet, like the inside of a wound. Your hands rise up to wrap around his wrist, while he pushes you down laying on the bed.

“I should get you one of those tattoos.”

Sevatar removes his thumb from your mouth and grips your hair, pulling your neck to the side and exposing you vein. He can see your heartbeat through your skin, along with the myriad of old scars and healing bites he’s left there.

It’s his favorite part of you; Nothing else is like the feeling of your life and soul between his teeth.

He drags his teeth down your neck and feels the way your hands clamber at his shoulders, until he finds a spot he likes and sinks his teeth in.

Your hands slap at his shoulders and you whimper, gasping in pain as his dull teeth pierce your skin. His tongue is coated in that tangy, iron taste, the salt of your skin mixing. You taste delicious- the feeling of your soft flesh underneath his hands and in his mouth makes his cock throb.

A part of him imagines biting down harder, drawing more blood and ripping your skin. The crunch of vein and bone. But he doesn’t want to damage you that much, and risk loosing his catch.

“W-what tattoo?”

You breathlessly speak. Sevatar knows some of the other- usually older - Night Lords have been tattooing their favorite serfs; Staking a claim on them.

He doesn’t need to stake claim on what everyone already knows is his, but the idea of his name, or his variation of the Night Lords symbol adorning your delicate skin rouses a part of him.

He bites again, and you take a sharp inhale- heels digging into the bed. Your thighs are forcibly spread apart to make room for his massive body, weight holding you down. He feels your heartbeat in his mouth, your very life is so close.

“You’ll see.”

[vassalor]

Kissing headcanon

Vulkan&Miliana

Corvus&Tory

Jago&Kadisa

[astrohymn]

reading pharos , i just got to sanguinius & curze's meeting in the throne room . they've got me craving a planet swap AU . or maybe i just want a nostraman sanguinius . give me the dark angel , he who thirsts ! i want this man feral and sadistic ; prowling around like the perfect predator he is . would he lure you in with a smile , or bare his fangs right away ? either way , i'm in .

has anyone written this ? if so , pls gib so i can read . i'll love you forever .

also damn you krukesh for not saving sevatar . he was right there ! being all submissive and breedabl- I MEAN WHAT ?

The occupant was a Space Marine, Nostraman at that, with the pale skin of all their kind. A metal gag circled the lower part of his face. About his neck was a collar. His arms were manacled behind him. Multiple chains ran from his bindings to hooks set in the floor, four from his collar alone. He was forced into a crouch that must have been agonising to hold. His hair was unkempt, half hanging over a face that was spattered with clots of driedblood. - Pharos, Guy Haley

gagged sevatar , kinda hot . what if he let reader muzzle him ? just once after they won a bet . eheh !

probably me huffing copium , but i really hope he survived or escaped into 40k . i like the grey knight theory i've seen floating around and i would love some 40k sevatar x reader content .

[yanagikou]

Ups, I did it again 🫣🐼 I simply can't resist that badass mfer 🦇🖤

@justanothermemestrider I definitely blame you and your writing *shakes fist lovingly*

There is a FULL, uncut version on my bluesky (and it shows EVERYTHING so be careful)... Tumblr flagged it the first time around so you will find the link in the comments. I feel like a criminal now.

After this, I'm going to work on the requests, I promise!