#Alastor Rushal

[necrophiliak]

[viceroy-jericho]

[magicalduck21]

Alastor Rushal

[pallysuune]

Summery: The Raven takes you to his master - who's your new master too! You're just happy to be alive. But then you accidentally walk in on the two of them having some "private time"

Pairing: Sevatar/fem!Reader/Rushal

Warnings: Dubcon, little bit of blood, Sevatar and Rushal being Sevatar and Rushal. Smut.

A/N: Here's that part 2 for you all! I'm so glad you enjoyed the first one, and I hope you'll enjoy this one, too.

The Raven took you out of the maintinence corridor, pulling you by the hand. You even resorted to trying to grab a pipe to keep him from pulling you out. The Astartes sighed, reaching past your body to gently, but firmly, pull your fingers from around the pipe, one by one. You gave a desperate little sob as you were forced to let go and he began to lead you away once again. It wasn't long until he was pulling you out of the hatch to the maintinence tunnel and into a larger hallway where he could stand up fully. The Raven straightened, looming over you.

"I-" you started, the word halting sharply. You didn't even know what you were going to say, but your voice crumbled in your throat as he looked down at you. His expression was blank, but all the scarring turned it into a gruesome looking frown. You shifted uneasily back away from him, but he still had a hand around your wrist. You couldn't get away.

He paused for a moment, just looking at you. Then, the Raven sighed, bent down, and yanked you over his shoulder. You let out a startled squeal. Any idea of escape was shattered as he curled an arm around your thighs, clamping them in place. You were left hanging over his shoulder, staring down at his ass.

Not a view you ever expected to get, frankly.

The Raven carried you through the halls. You heard a few deep snickers from Night Lords you passed, but any serf kept their heads down, not even daring to look at you or the man carrying you. As you hung over his shoulder, you realized that you didn't actually know his name. A serf wasn't important enough to be told about new recruits, even when that recruit was a defector from another legion. And you'd only ever overheard Night Lords calling him 'the Raven', and sometimes talking about his relationship with the First Captain.

"Um..." you started.

He turned his head slightly toward you. You watched the sway of his long hair.

You figured you were going to die soon anyways, so why not go for it? "What's your name?"

He just looked forward again.

Well, okay then, you thought.

You spent the rest of the trip in silence.

The Raven brought you, unsurprisingly, to the private room of the First Captain, Jago Sevatarion. The one man you were trying to hide from.

Sevatar was out of his armor, sitting in a large chair and looking at a data slate that was immediately put aside when the door closed behind you and the Raven.

"Found a little mouse for me, have you?" Sevatar purred.

The Raven nodded, and then slipped you off his shoulder. You were set on your feet just in front of him. Large hands settled on your shoulders, holding you in place.

Sevatar rose from his seat and stepped close to you. Your heart pounded at being sandwiched between the two of them. You were trapped, ever instinct in your body screamed that you were in danger. Sevatar reached out, taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your head up to look at him.

"Are you afraid, little mouse?" he drawled, with a smirk that was absolutely wicked.

One you found inappropriately attractive, considering the circumstances.

His thumb pressed against your bottom lip softly. "I know you are. I can smell it," he smirked. His eyes held yours. He drew his thumb down so the nail pressed into your lip. It was uncomfortable, but not painful. But your heart raced all the same.

"Rushal," Sevatar said. You were confused for a second, before your scattered mind realized he was addressing the marine standing behind you, his hands still on your shoulders. Sevatar's gaze was still boring into yours. "What do you think we should do with our little mouse here?"

The hands on your shoulders tightened slightly. Sevatar finally looked away from you, lifting his head to look at the Raven. You were too afraid to look back at him, so you had no idea what Sevatar saw in his face, but Sevatar smirked. He released you, turned, and strode back over to the seat he had been in before.

"You will be my personal serf from now on," he said over his shoulder, casually. "You'll remain here with me, there's no need for you to report to anyone other than me now."

"Wait, what?"

He turned to look at you as he sat down, arching a brow. "Was I unclear?"

You shook your head so quickly and frantically, you probably would have fallen over if Rushal didn't still have his hands on you.

"Good. Now go fetch some armor polish."

You hurried to scramble out of the room.

*~*~*~*

Despite your initial fears, things turned out to be rather uneventful as Sevatar's personal serf. He preferred tending to his weapons himself, as well as the skins that decorated his armor. You were left to clean his armor when it needed it, straighten his room, and fetch things for him. You also tended to Rushal somewhat. He'd never had you clean his armor or anything, but you brought food or drinks for him as well as Sevatar. After several days, you realized you were less likely to be hurt or killed by the Astartes, and more likely to die of boredom when left to your own devices.

There was one thing that was certainly not boring - over the few days you had worked for him, Sevatar had made it quite clear that he wanted you.

You hadn't yet figured out if that meant sexually, or if he wanted to eat you.

Most of the time, you were in his room, working or passing the time, but he did allow you to eat one meal a day with the other serfs, letting you have some social interaction. Theoretically. Except, since you had become Sevatar's personal serf, none of the general serfs wanted to interact with her. It was as if they were afraid that they would draw the attention of other Night Lords. As if your status was somehow contagious.

One night you got tired of sitting and eating by yourself and decided to just finish your meal in Sevatar's room.

You opened his door and shut it behind you before turning - and promptly freezing, dropping the plate of food you'd brought with you from the mess. The clatter of it hitting the floor made both men glance at you.

Rushal was sitting, naked, on Sevatar's lap, his back to you, giving you a surprisingly lovely view of his back and ass, all impossibly pale skin and hard muscles and the glint of metal. He blinked at you, unashamed, but surprised by your presence. His lips - and Sevatar's - were smeared with red from where Sevatar had bitten his lip and drew blood.

Sevatar himself was lounging on the chair like a king in a throne, wearing only a pair of shorts from what you could see. His skin had only slightly more color than Rushal's, and his normally neat hair was a mess. His hands were still resting on Rushal's hips. He watched you intently with a look you could only describe as hungry.

His lips stretched into a grin. You could see blood on his teeth.

The sight snapped you out of your shock and you jumped, spinning around to put your back to them. "I'm sorry, sir! I-" You cut off, not sure what else to say.

You heard a deep chuckle behind you. "Are you? There is a way you can make it up to us, you know," Sevatar purred.

You felt heat rush to your face immediately. Your heart skipped and stumbled over itself.

"I know you want to. I can smell it," he continued.

He was right, you couldn't deny the thought had set off and fluttering tingle of arousal all through you.

You hestiated, and then turned slowly toward them. They were still sitting exactly as they had been before, watching you. You wet your lips.

"How?" you asked softly.

Sevatar smirked wider and held out a hand to you. A silent order to come over. You slowly stepped closer. As you reached them, Rushal slid off his lap, stepping back. It took a great deal of effort not to look over at the Raven, who moved to stand just to your side. Still naked.

You stopped in front of him and Sevatar leaned forward, grabbing your arm, pulling you into his lap. You gasped, your legs forced wide by the size of him beneath you. You could feel the hard press of his cock against you, impossibly large, separated from you only by thin layers of cloth. You squirmed on his lap, trying to get more comfortable, drawing a deep rumbling from his chest. He yanked you forward, his lips slamming into yours. His tongue shoved into your mouth, filling it with the coppery taste of blood.

Rushal's blood, you remembered.

The Raven pressed against you from behind, as silent as he ever was. He was kneeling, his chest pressing against your back as he reached around you to grasp your shirt and unceremoniously rip it open. You gasped, startled, while Sevatar only chuckled against your mouth. Someone's hands, you couldn't be sure who's, cupped your breast, squeezing it gently. A rough thumb rubbed over your nipple. Rushal's scarred, rough lips pressed against the back of your neck.

You knew then that you were done for. These men were going to kill you. Just in a very different way than what you'd expected.

There was nothing to do but lean into it. You kissed Sevatar back, leaning into him. One of them pulled at your pants, ripping them and your panties. You tensed as a finger brushed along your sex. Warm and rough, it traced along your lips, spreading them, and grazing your clit. You gave a shuddering sigh against Sevatar's lips.

A thick finger worked it's way into you. Fucking you slowly. Sevatar's finger, judging from the palm that pressed to your sex and ground against your clit as it did. You moaned, breaking the kiss to tip your head back, panting. Another finger teased your entrance from behind before Rushal slipped his fingers into you, too.

Both of the Astartes fingered you. You could barely comprehend what was happening at the moment. Not that you were doing too much thinking, at the moment. The sensations reeling through your body were just too much, too potent. Teeth nipped at your throat had enough to sting. Fingers pinched your nipple.

You were pushed to the edge. Your body was theirs to play with, and there was nothing you could do about it except grasp on to Sevatar's shoulders and hold on, screaming out your pleasure as you came around both of their fingers.

Hazy, you slumped back against Rushal as both of them slipped their fingers free. Sevatar reached out, snatching up Rushal's wrist and pulled his hand to his mouth, sucking your essence from his finger with heavy lidded eyes. You felt the soft moan that rumbled through Rushal's chest behind you.

Releasing his lover's hand, Sevatar sat up, pulling himself free of his shorts, and reaching for your hips. He lifted you and pulled you over him. You felt the velvet-smooth press of his cock head at your entrance, pressing into you, as he pulled you down onto him. You gasped, stretched around him, filled more than you could ever have thought possible.

Sevatar groaned, biting down a little harder on your neck this time, beginning to fuck you deeper and rougher with each moment. You mewled and moaned, your hips rocking desperately against his, lost in the muddled mix of pleasure and pain.

Sevatar's lips trailed up your neck, nipping at your earlobe. "Don't you think you're forgetting someone?" He purred.

Before you could respond, his fingers curled roughly in your hair and yanked your head around. Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of Rushal standing just beside you. His eyes were hooded, heavy as he looked down on you bouncing in Sevatar's lap, his hand curled around his cock, stroking himself. Your eyes trailed down the tense, trembling muscles of his stomach and abdomen, locking on his manhood. Your breath hitched. Without thinking, you leaned a little closer to him, opening your mouth as wide as you could.

Something sparked in his eyes, and he shifted closer, guiding the head of his cock to your mouth. You wrapped your lips around him, tongue teasing over the tip before you dipped your head, taking more of him. He groaned deeply, remaining still, letting you take him at your own pace.

Sevatar's hands dropped to your hips, gripping right enough they would surely leave bruised. Rushal's hand took their place in your hair instead. Sevetar bucked up into you roughly, where Rushal gave only the slightest flex of his hips. The contrast between the two of them was enough to drive you wild.

The three of you found a kind of rhythm, with Sevatar fucking you, and you bobbing on Rushal's cock. It was heady, intoxicating, the air filled with the scent of sex, and all three of you making the most obscene sounds. You couldn't last like that forever, pleasure pushing you to the limit once again until you felt like you were going to shatter into a million pieces. You whimpered around Rushal, your eyes squeezed shut. Tears beaded on your lashes. You came again, your pussy squeezing tight around Sevatar's cock, your keen of pleasure muffled by the one in your mouth.

Sevatar growled beneath you, and you could feel him throb inside you as he came, pumping you full of his release.

At almost the same time, Rushal pulled himself free of your mouth, taking himself in hand again, closing his fingers around the cockhead, grunting as he came into his hand. Your eyes fluttered open just in time to see, and you watched, mesmerized by the sight.

Hands slid from your hips to wrap around your waist and Sevatar pulled you down against his chest, still buried deep in you. You sighed, letting yourself relax on him as you felt Rushal step away from the two of you. Drowsy, you barely noticed when he returned a few moments later, and rested lightly on the arm of the chair, leaving back toward Sevatar. One of them was stroking your hair, but you had no idea who.

"Sleep," Sevatar rasped, amusement in his voice. "I'm sure we'll have more for you to do later."

You didn't doubt him in the slightest, and decided to take some time to rest while you had it.

[cav-core]

Corvus and Konrad exchanged Alastor Rushal and Kasati Nuon in a Denny's parking lot like divorced parents.

[nevesmose]

Haven't been very active on tumblr recently as I've been working on this fic, but now it's here! Fulgrim/Ferrus/Konrad and Sevatar/Rushal dollification and various other things, in which Sev sees something he wasn't supposed to and can't resist trying it for himself... as usual for this kind of thing do please check the tags. Enjoy!

[tagedeszorns]

I don't know nearly enough about the rest of the 30k Raven Guard as I'd like to, but I am always and constantly deeply abnormal about Alastor Rushal

As you absolutely should be!

Even if he's technically no longer Raven Guard after the Dropsite Massacre.

But, damn, he's a fascinating guy!

[the-liars-art]

Acceptance

Sevatar/Rushal small oneshot, with gore, flaying, Stockholm syndrome, implied cannibalism, and no safe or sane consent. The ship is its own warning⚠️

A survived squad of Raven Guard finds a footage of a pale Astartes tortured by a Night Lord, and one of them identifies the victim in the footage as Alastor Rushal, 96th Captain. They should have turned it off to mourn Rushal, who’s assumed dead already, but can’t look away from the screen.

Rushal was lying naked on an operating table, a dried trail of blood painted his chest, his mouth scarred as well as bloody. His tar black eyes were wide and full of tears, but there was no trace of the fresh shock unique in the eyes of newly captured prey. His Night Lord torturer stood beside him, unarmored and at ease, wiping a flaying knife with the dark blue fabric of his robes. A bloodied dagger lay near Rushal’s empty hand.

When the flayer’s blade sank into his skin, Rushal stayed so pliantly still that it took a few more seconds for his Raven brothers to realize how his hands and feet weren’t bound to the table.

The Ravens keep watching, their dark eyes following the surgical precision of the flaying knife in unison. Captain Rushal cried, the powerless sound of a surrendering mind. He didn’t even show disgust when the tip of the blade began to slide around the mark of the XIX Legion over his left shoulder.

The Night Lord’s face was outside the frame. The vid recording only captured his body below the neck, and the slow movement of his bare hands.

Rushal’s eyes shut when the Night Lord started pulling, lifting the skin covered by dark Raven tattoo with the blade probing almost gently underneath. Tears flowed down his face.

The Ravens are recent recruits reaped from a reformed Deliverance, not nearly as hardened as intimidating Captain Rushal and the unkindness of his Terran confidants. They have never seen an Astartes shed a tear even out of pain, nor had the reason to imagine it.

Then there was a low chuckle, raspy but surprisingly soft, as the Night Lord finally plucked the dripping flap of skin cleanly from Rushal’s shoulder. The palm-sized open flesh already began to fix itself, sealing the capillaries and regenerating its skin over exposed fat. The Night Lord ran his thumb over Rushal’s pained frown. His nails were black. Ragged little scars covered the back of his pale hand, scabbed over and healed only recently.

The Night Lord spoke, in a flowery tongue none of their small audience could understand, but its tone had made it clear that he meant to praise. Rushal remained quiet, but he smiled and opened his expectant eyes to meet his torturer’s gaze.

Still holding the tattooed piece of skin between two fingers, the Night Lord leaned down. His features were captured perfectly on screen. A face sculpted in alabaster, smooth raven hair, scars crossing his face, eyes narrowed. Unsettling. Strangely charming. The young Ravens barely held back their gasps. It was the only Night Lord they recognize.

Sevatar glanced at the cam before putting down his flaying knife, to cup Rushal’s chin with his other hand. He licked Rushal’s cheek for the wet trail of tears, fingers stroking the veins in the side of his Raven’s neck.

Rushal groaned, his voice drenched in need and impatience rather than simply pain. Sevatar lifted the strap of skin above Rushal’s face, right over his closed mouth. A drop of congealing blood fell onto his swollen lower lip. Rushal’s lips parted.

This could be delicious. I don’t know. Said Sevatar, in whispery, sharp Low Gothic. You tell me.

One of the Ravens turns off the footage before anyone could do anything otherwise. He presses down on the button so hard and abruptly that it almost broke its panel. Silence and darkness reign for a long moment. They all tense as if they smelled blood from inside the screen. It’s hard to look at each other in the eyes.

The footage will be sent to their Captain. They never speak of it again.

🦇 🐦‍⬛

Thank you for reading. Comments are much appreciated

[bebopat]

In which were we see the VIIIth try to redeem themselves.

++Will you follow me home, Decimus?++

...

The Prophet of the VIII is plagued by visions of death, but what actually worries him is the familiar dread that beckons him home in his dreams.

...

Custodian Solenus Kalreth of the Aquilan Shield is given an objective by the Emperor of Mankind. He sails the stars to find his charge and safeguard the lost son on his journey home.

...

The Emperor, occasionally, does protect.

[sharenadraculea]

Sevatar, Rushal and Altani found-family surprisingly well

[alastor8908]

Last day of summer guys 🙂

I have school tomorrow 😔

[necrophiliak]

making these for book chars with no official art is a little harrowing bt here are the sev+rushal heads i drew if anyone wants them

[viceroy-jericho]

[1silentsiren1]

This world just needs such a sweetness) Sevatar in a raven costume and Rushal in a bat costume

[pallysuune]

Summery: Sevatar takes solace in his Raven when his psyker headaches grow to be too much. Literally.

Pairing: Sevatar/Rushal

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, blood, typical Sevatar and Rushal stuff.

A/N: I love these two toxic boys. Don't judge me.

Rushal knows the headaches are getting to be too bad when Sevatar grabs him and slams him too hard against the wall, forcing his mouth to slot over his. He doesn't blame him for the violence, never. Half their relationship is violence. It's what they're both made for, something they'll never get away from. But Sevatar has eased toward him with time, and so these moments stand out all the more. How Sevatar pressed against him like he's trying to drown in him. Like he needs him to survive.

It's just a balm, he knows. A salve. An attempt to drive away the pain that splits apart his mind from the inside out. He can't actually save Sevatar from what is slowly killing him, though he wished he could. This is the best he could do.

He relaxes pliantly under Sevatar's hands as the Captain kisses him, tongue stealing into his mouth, tracing the scars along the inside of his cheek, caressing the stump of his tongue. Rushal lets out a low sound, more a rumble in the air between them than an actual noise. Sevatar's fingers dig hard into his shoulders.

Hands scramble at his tunic. His own find purchase in Sevatar's shirt. Neither of them have much regard for the fabric in moments like this. The sound of it ripping is drowned out by a deeper groan from the Raven as Sevatar's hand palms him roughly through his pants.

The metallic scent of blood registers in his mind slowly. There's something wet on his lips. He rears his head back. Sevatar is looking up at him, tension at the corner of his eyes. His nose is bleeding. The red stands out starkly against his skin.

Rushal raises a hand toward his face.

“Leave it,” Sevatar barks, pushing forward to kiss him again. Desperate, barely contained. He rakes red welts across Rushal's chest, nails catching on scars. Small beads of blood rise to the surface of his skin in their wake. Rushal hisses, but doesn't try to stop him.

In a whirlwind of motion, the rest of his clothes are torn away, and he's turned to face the wall, pressed up against it by a heavy forearm against the back of his neck. He splays his hands across the cold plasteel and closes his eyes. Spit-slick fingers press to - and into - his ass. He lets a shapeless groan slip past his lips, his eyes slipping closed.

Sevatar does not allow him long, but Rushal doesn't mind. The burn as Sevatar finally pulls his fingers out and sheaths himself in him is familiar, almost welcome. A hand grips his hip, nails digging in roughly, leaving crescent shapes in his skin. The other arm is still laying across the back of his neck. Sevatar holds him in place and fucks him roughly.

And fuck, it feels good.

He's unbearably hard himself. He slips a hand down, curling his fingers around his length. Sevatar does not stop him. He's growling like something wild behind him, lost in it all, his only anchor the feeling of Rushal's body beneath his.

Rushal fucks his palm in the same rhythm as the buck of Sevatar's hips. He feels something hot drip onto his back. It rolls down his back slowly. Blood from Sevatar's nose. The feeling of it slowly running down the taut muscles of his back sends a shiver rushing up his spine.

It isn't long until Sevatar slams his hips against his ass, burying himself in him as he comes, cock pulsing as he fills him. He growls, feral and dark, before slowly relaxing. He slumps, his forehead resting against Rushal's back. He can feel the tickle of Sevatar's hair against his skin.

He has the honor of hearing words no one else likely ever would from the Captain as Sevatar whispers against him.

“I'm sorry.”

If the act itself was reminiscent of the darker time directly after his torture, that feeling is broken by just those two words. Rushal reaches back, tapping Sevatar's hips lightly. He gets the hint and draws back, slipping out of Rushal.

The Raven doesn't bother to finish himself. It isn't about him at the moment. Instead, he takes a ripped piece of his shirt and unceremoniously cleans himself up, grabbing another and moving to where Sevatar has slumped down onto his bed, sitting casually across it with his back propped against the wall. Using the same soiled rag, Rushal cleans him, before tossing it away. With the second, clean tatter of cloth, he leans close and gently wipes the blood from Sevatar's face. Already, the flow has become sluggish. It will stop soon enough.

Sevatar's closed eyes flickered slightly open when Rushal cleans his face, looking over at him with a grimace, before closing again. The corners of his eyes are still pinched from pain, but it seems to be fading.

With them both cleaned up, Rushal pulls Sevatar down to the bed. It takes a moment for them both to arrange themselves comfortably, in a tangle of muscular limbs and heavy bodies.

The door is locked. It is just the two of them in the darkness of Sevatar's quarters. Safe in a way neither wants to think of too hard. It takes a long time for Sevatar to finally sleep. Rushal knows from experience he won't sleep long. He can only hope the headache has eased the rest of the way by the time he wakes up.

[nightinferno49]