#rushal and sevatar

[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.

[necrophiliak]

[viceroy-jericho]

[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!

[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

[fourgods-nobrakes]

Struck with a sudden desire for teenage dirtbag AU Sevatar/Rushal, featuring Nostraman feral child Sev and Terran steppe barbarian Rushal, and the carrion birds that follow them both around.

[nightinferno49]

[the-sisters-library]

Our brethren are sadly ignorant of the elusive Alastor Rushal. Could you give us a taste?

*hand signs* Welcome back to my library! Try not to bump your horns on the chandelier this time, yeah?

Alastor Rushal is elusive indeed. So much so that I’ve only found one novella in one book in which his name is mentioned a total of 9 times. These pages are most of what we know about him.

He was a Raven Guard captured - or more likely defected to - Night Lords at Isstvan V. He was tortured including by Sevatar. He had his tongue cut out as part of that torture. He struck out his own armor markings and fights with Sevatar. Sevatar insisted that Rushal join the Kyroptera, over the objections of other Night Lords captains. He has a badass weapon called a “meteor hammer” that’s described as more of an energy weapon in the form of a huge flail with a mace. I think of it as similar to the sci-fi version of the Witch King of Angmar’s weapon.

Unfortunately we don’t know anything else, really, as the authors seem to have dropped the thread on this guy. We don’t know his motivations, why he turned, what exactly happened to him at Isstvan? All open questions that Black Library may never answer.

[sharenadraculea]

Vampire-au Victorian Edition

I‘m still working on a overview of all the primarchs backstories in this au, so until I finished that, have a castlist of the victorian au!

Konrad Curze: Orphaned street child probally around 12, small time criminal and newly turned vampire. Doesn‘t think much of high society social norms and will continue to ignore them no matter what Fulgrim does. Adjusting to beeing a vampire surprisingly well

Fulgrim: Vampiric socialite and ex-renaissance-painter (They died before their career ever really got off the ground). Trying and failing at not letting the supernatural crazyness around them mess up their live too much, and new parent to a baby vampire. Yes, they love Konrad very much, don‘t let them tell you otherwise.

Magnus Rubeus: Eccentric researcher of about everything. Yes, the science is ethically dubious. It‘s the victorian era, what do you expect? Also a vampire and very old at that. Currently also living in London and thus spending quite some time with his very good friend Fulgrim and newest study subject Konrad

Sanguinius: One of the oldest vampire in the emps/primarch-clan. Currently very busy on travels overseas because damn they need a break and probally won‘t be back for quite a while. Ocean liners and trains are much slower than airplanes after all

Ferrus Manus: Another vampire, another one of Fulgrim‘s very very good friends. Has no idea what to do with high society but also he likes Fulgrim so he‘ll endure some dinner parties from time to time.

N‘Kari: Very wealthy, widowed at least thrice, probally (a little) high at all time and ambiguosly mortal. Fulgrim‘s very problematic Bestie

Sevatar: Konrad‘s friend from when they both lived on the street and a few years older. No, he definetly isn‘t about to commit any famous murders in 1888 London. What makes you think that?

Shang: A stableboy (or some other kind of servant) Konrad ends up befriending. He is just hoping that all this bullshit won‘t get him fired

There are definetly gonna be more characters, Rushal is absolutly going to make a appearence later on and I‘m working on ideas for how to get more Emperor‘s Children Characters in here

[moodymisty]

Rushal ending up being loyal to Sevatar and the NL legion makes sense. Brutal torture (and probably a whole lotta brainwashing) will do that to a person. People who went through abuse and didn’t get any treatment for it will very likely get attached to their abuser, and even support them sometimes.

But if he gets attached to you? (and my brain has already cooked up an idea on how that could possibly happen. So just hear me out).

Let’s say that you’re a serf belonging to the Night Lords, and your duties consist of cleaning the areas where the higher ranking astartes live. For serfs belonging to other chapters this would be seen as a privilege, but here? Not so much. Nobody wants this type of job, it’s too risky, you’re one wrong move away from being turned into a flayed plaything for one of your lords. But when a serf of higher rank promoted you to it (probably to escape getting the job himself) it was inescapable, the life fate handed you didn’t allot you any complaints. So you decided to accept this “gift” instead of risking possible death via whip.

And you could say that you were good at it. You stayed quiet and unnoticeable, your hands never spilled what you were carrying, and even in your throes of fear you managed to keep a boring enough facade that the Night Lord threatening you lost interest. Otherwise what you did could be easily described as dull, because once you got over the sight of human remains, all the job really consisted of was nonstop cleaning till you heard the sound of heavy footsteps and ran back to the serfs quarters as stealthily as possible.

The monotony changed however, when you heard a rumour of a new astartes joining the higher ranks. Through the chatter of your fellow serfs you found out that he used to be a Raven Guard. Which… surprised you. Before the heresy started you had heard from past friends who worked with other chapters that the Raven Guard, while similar in appearance, weren’t as monstrous or sadistic as your masters. Some even called them “kind”.

You wondered if that’s even possible. And if it is, then how could someone like that join the Night Lords?

A few days later you were mopping some grand hallway. Well, it must have been grand in the past, now it’s just covered in gore. But any cleanup you were doing stopped abruptly. You weren’t alone in this place. A familiar terror ran through your body, a space marine was watching you. And so you sat there, trying to seem as small as possible in hopes that he would eventually go away. After what felt like hours you considered the option that maybe you were just tired and your mind was conjuring things that weren’t there, and it didn’t feel like a Night Lord, so what harm could be done if you just turned around and-

You saw him. But despite his pallid complexion and large black eyes you didn’t recognise him, so it must be the new Raven Guard then, you thought. After which you realised that you had been staring at him for far too long, and bowed apologetically. But it was as if he didn’t seem to notice, instead wordlessly beckoning you somewhere with a gesture of his gauntlet covered hand. Which you followed, it would have been far more foolish of you to deny the request of one of your masters than to simply do as they said. So as he lead to down some dark corridors and right into his quarters you tried to think as positively as you could. Maybe the people you once knew were right? Maybe he won’t torture or kill you? Maybe he truly is as kind as they claimed his kin to be.

His request was simple, he sat down on his bed and gestured for you to take off his power armour. The higher up serfs taught you the basics behind it just in case a scenario like that ever came up, even if you truly hoped it didn’t. Being that close to an astartes put your life on the line, and if one tiny armour piece got broken you’d be just another blood splatter on the wall. But from what you saw he didn’t seem to mind, most of the time he wasn’t even focused on you, preferring to stare off into the distance. But when he did look down you chose to smile at him, risky yes, but deep within your heart you hoped that he wasn’t as bloodthirsty as his cousins. Once you took off the armour it felt as if you were done, until you saw him fumbling with the zipper on his neck. The dirt and armour oil made the glove parts of his bodysuit far too slippery to grip that small bit of metal. So with a mumble of wanting to help you put your hands on his neck, reaching to grab the zipper of the suit-

You hear a sharp intake of breath when he flinched away from you, if you weren’t so close to him you wouldn’t have even noticed it. And in his eyes you briefly saw… fear? No, not fear. That’s stupid, astartes can’t feel that, you must have just been projecting. And you’re sure you were right when he leaned back towards you with that usual tired expression. What did surprise you though, is what you see when you take off the top part of the bodysuit. He’s littered with scars, some healed, most not.

And you get the bright (and very impulsive) idea on how to stay on his good side.

You take out a pretty large jar of antibiotic cream from your robes, you used it after each day of work to make sure you didn’t get an infection. And while you knew that space marines didn’t work that way. The frightened-friendly way you spoke seemed to convince him into letting you apply it on him, sitting silently as you massaged it into the skin of his arms, torso and face. After which he stood up from his bed and unlocked the door, silently letting you go.

For you the interaction was.. confusing. He didn’t hurt you, but he was also incredibly strange. You hoped that whatever good reputation you built up with him was worth wasting half of your antibiotics on.

For him it was the first show of genuine kindness he’s felt in such a long time. In his surprise at your smiles and soft touches he managed to let you go.

How foolish of him.

But don’t fret, dear. He’ll find you soon. And he won’t be letting you go this time.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

y'all put so many tasty treats in my ask box, you all know exactly how to manipulate me into making stuff XD

[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

[the-liars-art]

Sevatar/Rushal

Mafia AU

Sevatar takes his pet raven to work. Rushal insists on carrying a weapon to protect him.

[fourgods-nobrakes]

Sevatar/Alastor, CNC?

...Night Lords just lend themselves to putting content behind cuts.

Sevatar lets him run for about ten minutes—it's harder to be exact without his armor on—before catching up and slamming Alastor into the wall hard enough to make his teeth rattle. "Keep trying to fly, little raven," he purrs as he kicks Alastor's ankles apart, "and I'll have to cut your eyes out next." He shoves his cock in with no further warning, making it burn, and Alastor groans in response: taken, owned, content.

[alastor8908]

Sevatar is punished for hitting Rushal. That's why Vulcan brought you a tasty treat today.

(Ice cream is slightly radioactive)