#talon x you

[zileans-big-cl0ck]

Hii, if ya feel up to it could you write some comforting headcanons for Yasuo and Talon? They need some good hugs but honestly what league champion doesn't

(if you feel like writing for others too go for it, I like to read anything you make)

✦–Comforting them headcanons.✦ (SFW)

✦Hurt/comfort, because they also deserve a hug. A lot of hugs. Every single one of them.

✧ prompt: ✧ hurt/comfort.

✧ champions: ✧ Talon, the Blade’s Shadow; Yasuo, the Unforgiven; Cassiopeia, the Serpent’s Embrace.

✧ reader: ✧ gender neutral.

✧ author’s note: ✧ oh, dear readers and anons, you don’t even know how appreciated I feel whenever you send me some positive energy or compliments, haha! Every time it’s so adorable, I couldn’t feel any better. Thank you for everythig, especially since english is not my first language, so. I basically have no idea what I am doing. Ah, but apart of this anecdote, the reader is really into self care, but I think it shouldn’t be a problem since we are doing a comforting post.

masterlist

✦Talon, the Blade’s Shadow.

He left his blade by the door, because he would never want you to see it in the comforting space of your home, begrimed with blood and disgustingly obscure.

He has lost his prey. His target fleed - he failed; he didn’t manage to complete the only merit of his life that he truly named his own, his passion and devotion, the thing he has been created to do.

If he fails in something so elementary, a thing fankled into his soul and his whole being, an aspect pierced into his heart, then what is his worth?

You spotted his inconvenient posture imidiately, sensing an unnatural twist in his mood, so used to his everyday harshness, enriched by a little bit of sweetness towards only your person. But this time he was different - apathetic with stilted aura of dullness around. Talon let himself tiredly slide on your shared bed, ignoring you just because of the guilt that has been oppressing his heart.

And you, instead of letting him perish alone, you offered him your silent comfort - just yourself by his side. You sat there, your head on his shoulder, gentle touch of your hand on his back, maybe even the tip of your fingers making little circles, massaging.

You asked him what happened, though for the most of the following time you remain quiet, relishing the moment, only you two as the centre of the universe.

But he still felt the enveloping sensation of the failed mission, a feeling he had never experienced before; he has dishonoured his sacred mission. Should he be allowed to feel comforted after a mistake so unforgivable? If he could, he would wear the disgrace as a punishment, visible and vociferous, so everyone would see his shamefull attempts to find comfort in someone else, unworthy of it and pathetic.

Talon was always a mysterious person, but you were like a stronghold for him - it wasn’t a long time until you heard these thoughts of his vocalized out loud, honest and brutal. He murmured them into your ear, while you listened silently, cherishing this sacred moment of his true, intimate self, the person behind the blade.

His thoughts seemed like a form of self-flagellation, noxious and malign. Something pitiful that made your eyes wet, little droplets settling on your eyelashes.

You couldn’t listen to him anymore, saying those denigrating and disgusting statements about himself. All it was untrue, made from the years of abandonment and loneliness, and you were positive to cure it.

But how many times more will you hear him saying that his name doesn’t matter? That as an assasin he is not a human being - he is just a blade that cuts efficiently, deeply and terminally.

“I couldn’t wish for a better person in my life than you, love.” You beggined with you voice brittle, like you were telling him a unconfronted secret. “There is nothing that could make me feel even slightly different. I love you the same amount, as you should love yourself.”

Your words were prosaic, menial. But these were honest promises of adoring him countlessly times, endlessly and for eons, until he comprehends the feelings you wanted him to nurse not only for you, but also himself.

And at some point Talon chuckled, though it wasn’t a sign of joy - it was depressing, unnatural. He tried assuring you that it wasn’t a problem big enough to enwrap you, his beloved one, in - but you could sense his poignant sadness running through his body, just like you could feel his pulsing heart or heavy breath.

You promised him to dedicate to him all of your time, just to assure Talon in his human ability to make mistakes, even so meaningful; to help with his low esteem, even if he firmly disagreed to have anything to do with the mythical term of the mentioned ’low esteem’.

You wrapped your hands around him, tigh and lovely, planning on imprisoning him in a cage made of adoration from someone, who could gave him the comfort he deserved.

Talon left his blade by the door as a symbol of rejection - he rejected the person beyond this place, the one who covered his face with a hood, exchanging him for a more relaxed one, the one made from flesh and honest feelings, the real ones, the right ones, and the absolutely normal ones.

✦Yasuo, the Unforgiven.

As we know, Yasuo escaped Ionia after the unfortunate tragedy that led him despair.

He was lost and longing for a company, though he stated out loud that he didn’t want anyone nerby - he was still too fragile, still in shock of the brutal act he allowed himself to do, bewildered, horrified by himself.

He didn’t want to hurt another human being again. He didn’t want to accompany yet another person, only to betray them nor to give up on them. Another loose would be too painful, too demolishing.

For them, of course. He thought he could handle all of this crushing on his mind.

But Yasuo wouldn’t survive seeing his acquaintance being betrayed by him, once again.

He wasn’t eager to befriend new people here, in Bilgewater; he didn’t seek anyone particular. You found him by yourself, and soon became his only comfort in those times, only way to drift his depressing thoughts away.

And even though it was admirable, your acts of desperate tries, as he considered you as the most valued person in his life, you knew he shouldn’t be feeling so much pain. It could broke even the toughest weilder. His nailed heart pulsing right in his chest was aching and trying to free itself every time Yasuo bestowed you with his deep, sad eyes.

He suffered in silence, though he claimed that you were the only cure for this desease that was gutting his body.

You could name this curse - it was guilt in its purest form. And you were determined to free Yasuo from it.

At some point, he must have opened himself before you, render a vivisection of himself, show you his insides and the putridity that has enveloped his heart and soul. Something you should despise, scream and shout at the sight of, bewildered and cheesed.

But instead of pushing him away as he expected, almost desired, instead of feeling overwhelmed by the emotions he had dropped on your shoulders, you hugged him tightly, the words of comfort pouring from your mouth.

”That wasn’t your fault.” ”You regret this, and you are not the same person you were back then.” ”That was an accident.” ”You are always there for me - let me be here for you now.”

So he declaimed the weight of the world like a poem. About his past and his brother, who has lose to his blade in the accident. You cried with him, mixing your own tears with his own, brushing his problems and concerns off.

You couldn’t even imagine how deeply was he hurt. But humans tend to crawl for the concept of empathetic co-suffering; it makes them feel understood and is crutial when it comes to comforting, therefore it was enough for him: getting the heavy burden off his own mind, sharing it to the world, admitting that he had commited something unforgivable.

You forgave him, though he has never hurted you. But any mercy given from a human being was a relief for Yasuo.

✦Cassiopeia, the Serpent’s Embrace.

Cassiopeia didn’t need your comfort. She despised it. It made her look pathetic and weak, even if she already looked miserable as half a serpent.

But she was a proud woman, a lover of many in her halcyon days of glory. Everyone longed for her and everyone needed her like an antidote for a deadly poison. It was a desire not in a lovely, romantic way, but in a frantic, melodramatic and amusing form of begging for sparing a life.

She manipulated the whole nation of pathetic Noxians into her hands, toyed with them on one of her palms, treating those little figures like ants, just simple pawns on the board that she created from her life. She would be considered infantile if anyone knew what a little mouse wanted to adhere to her, hug her scaled waist and tell her that… she deserved love.

Of course she did! You should have seen her when she was still human, not an abomination, just a twisted figure of her past self.

”No, I am not thinking like this of myself, little mouse. Do not approach me, we can bargain from a distance-”

She would admire your confidency with honesty, if only you weren’t so… clingy. Your hugged her in a devoted way that spoke without words - that you will always follow her as her dearest worshipper, even if she turned into something more fearsome than a half-snake. Even if she turned into a sculpture, you would attend her every day.

Cassiopeia indeed had to admit to herself, in her own convoluted way of a serpent, that your confession made her feel better. Like she had one person that was truly her admirer, not just another human she led on and wrapped around her claw, ready to allure and use. And that her little mouse was kind of adorable; more like a pet, but at least a faithful one.

It was a change of perspectives for her, a phenomenon that made her smile softly, her hand slidding from the top of your head to your back, where she pushed you closer, admiring and loving.

[hanasnx]

MINORS DNI 18+ WARNINGS: f!reader | sexual content | anal mention | character mentions murdering you at the end as sex innuendo.

TALON swears it's nothing to him, that you're nothing to him. His life is in service of the Court, of his self-interest, of his preservation. There's no room for you, or someone like you when his duties must be upheld, and sacrifices are to be made. If anyone were to think you meant something to him, you could be the sacrifice. Dealt on the altar of power, you'd be a snow white lamb with your throat cut. There is no room for you with him.

Yet when he looks into your sweet doe eyes, breathes in the scent of your hair, he forgets everything for a moment. One merciful moment is his as he indulges in rich rapture, drinking you in like the God of Wine's most sacred blend. You are an art-form. Truly, in your most vulnerable state, you allow him to bask in it. No one knows what you sound like at climax, no one has seen your bare statuesque form bent and frayed in every position as he unravels you from the inside, no one but him. You give it all to him so trustingly, so naive yet impetuous. He admires it, admires you.

You've grown so distracting to him, he even ponders your recent escapades during his missions. The lonely and long hours of the night are a little more bearable when he visualizes your warm body underneath him, soaking him up as you take his every inch. Briefly, he considers entering you from another hole just to see your eyes light up with intrigue, greeting the new sensation with all the wiles and tenacity of a girl eager to prove herself. You do good for him.

One single claw draws up the blade of his knife at the thought. Uncharacteristically absent-minded, your image runs away with him, a curl tugging at the corner of his mouth when he stifles an anticipatory chuckle. He'll be with you soon. Even if he can't have you completely, that he won't let himself be yours, he'll borrow you as many times as he sees fit.

And if the Court discovers you, he'll be the one to end you. Compared to what the Court will do to you if they find out you've laid with the Talon, it'll be merciful. He'll even let you look into his eyes.

[flamingpudding]

Hotel Fenton

Red Hood stared at the building that seemingly appeared out of nowhere in Crime Alley. Below his mask his eye twitched at the very elaborated and very bright shining and blinking sign on the buildings wall spelling out 'HOTEL FENTON' though it looked like the word 'HOTEL' had only been added recently. The building in itself was also strange. Red Hood was pretty sure no one would actually willingly step into a building like that.

"Are you seriously expecting to investigate this shit?" He muttered into the coms, knowing perfectly well that his brothers were watching through the integrated helm camera.

"Yep. You lost the draw." Nightwing sang from the other end of the com line. Red Hood was going to glitter bomb his Appartement later. He grumbled something inaudible once more before taking another step towards that strange building. But froze before he even set his foot completely on the ground.

A scream echoed through the building. His hand instantly went to the gun buy his side. Then a crash. Wide eyed Red Hood watched how a chair came sailing out of one destroyed window. More shouting followed now clearer. Someone was complaining loudly and...

He took a step back from the building as fire sprouted out of the broken window but before he could even tell his siblings to send back up the fire got extinguished by a sudden block of ice growing out of the window. Red Hood blinked, muttering a half hearted "Did you guys see that too..." Into his coms before the slam of the entrance door to the Building caught his attention and he came face to face with a little girl that had obviously slammed the door she was leaning against.

They stared at each other for a moment before the girl dusted herself off and grinned.

"Hi! Welcome to Hotel Fenton the place to stay for Ghosts, Shades, Undead and More! We are a little preoccupied with a some of our current guests but I am sure there is still an open place for a fellow undead and halfa in the making!"

Red Hood's eyes narrowed under his mask but before he could ask anything, a fucking man that had vague similarities to Bruce crashed through the wall cool-aid way with a good damn Talon in his arms that was obviously trying to gnaw on the arm holding it, a second man followed close behind floating and shouting vehemently that "JACK THAT IS NOT PLAY FIGHTING YOU DUMBASS! IT'S TRYING TO MAIM YOU!"

There was only one thought went through Red Hoods head at that moment, his sibling perfectly echoed over the coms.

"What the fuck?"

[magicalbunbun]

You are the most wonderful artist in this beautiful and disgusting world at the same time

And more

Could you draw something sad with the two birds au??

I wish you a good day😘😘😘😘

(Thank you for the kind words! Love you!)

THE TWO BIRDS AU 🐦🕊

(Is just y/n who still doesn't know if he loves jason or he Wants to kill him.)

[runa-falls]

no offense but imagine miguels hand pushing against your lower stomach as he fucks you because he wants to feel his cock moving into your body and the bulge that presses against your tummy when he gets in real deep.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Chapter 10[*]

A/N: sorry this is up so late—I forgot to proofread it :’)

Warnings: smut, blood play, tiny bit of implied somnophilia, the transitioning of human to demon is similar to very extreme pms-ing, monsterfucking, almost pwp 😋

Word Count: 3,454

-Part 9- -Part 11-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

You’re aching all over. Bone deep need burning in your blood.

Can taste him on your lips, rich and slightly spicy, the metallic aftertaste lingering beneath your tongue.

Muscle tightens as you groan, hackles raising with hunger, starvation weighing in your mind. Slitted pupils seek him out instantly—you could have located him with your eyes closed. Tongue flicks over your lips, claws scratching at the sheets as you roll into him, all lethal power and deadly grace. Swallow your desire, mind numbing to the fantasy of broad, calloused palms putting their heat over your skin.

A growl rumbles in your throat, raw and tender, as you paw at him, roughly pushing him over. Hisses as his wings catch beneath him, but you’ve already hooked your leg over him, straddling his lap. Talons graze the rough hide of his chest, fur dusting his lower abdomen in a suggestive trail.

His scent dims your mind, vision dulling as you’re pulled forward by hunger, nosing at his throat. Hazel eyes flick open, muscle turning rigid as newly formed fangs slide from your gums, stinging as they do so. Scratch over his throat, practically able to taste him already, listen to the pulse of his blood, how it becomes heavier now he’s aware of you.

Swallow thickly, trembling with need, halted by curiosity. Lips seal over a spot below his jaw, tongue lapping thickly over him, tasting his skin, drinking him down. Canines scrape to his shoulder—matching where your own mark lies. Snarl lowly, pulling away. Hazel pierces into you, and the craving triples. Having his attention on you…skin prickles.

Hips swirl atop his own, slick dampening the silky fur between you, already so eager to take him. Snarl again with impatience as he takes his time resurfacing from sleep, drags it out as he slowly raises those rough palms to your waist, holding you still.

“So eager,” he drawls, amusement gleaming in his steadily darkening gaze. Move to buck your hips, but the grip he has on you is like iron. A low buzzing sounds in your head, urging you to take him. Hiss with impatience, starvation burning in your lungs, craving him like stimulation. Lip pulls back from bloody canines, tongue already littered with small slices.

Frustration bubbles when he refuses to let you move, so you dip down. Teeth carve up his mouth, thick and rich liquid spilling across your tongue as his mouth opens, tongue flicking against your fangs for the stinging pleasure of pain. Hips buck over his own demandingly, rubbing over his arousal, groaning as a small part of your need is satiated. Though it’s nowhere near enough.

Snarl hungrily, crawling further up his body, straddling his middle. Claw-tipped fingers pin down his shoulders, your back aching slightly. Keeping him still as you swirl your hips over the powerful muscle, stomach ridged as you glide across the tough skin. A moan drags from your lips as thighs part wider, settling more heavily over him, sinking down—riding his middle. A strained laugh rumbles from his chest, nipples peaking at the sound, becoming breathless and flushed as he watches you.

“Look at you,” he growls, hand skimming up your side, spanning over your ribs. Thumb grazes your nipple, his other joining the play. Back arches, demanding more as you swirl your hips, clit gliding over the now sopping fur of his lower abdomen, shuffling back, working your way down to his cock. “So hungry, aren’t you?” He breathes, “finally understand the shit you’ve put me through.”

Lips part as you grind down on his cock—hard against his stomach—looking ready for you. A snarl rips from your throat, needing to sink your weight over his lap, bite into his skin, taste him as you reach your high. Blood in your mouth, cum in your heat. Salivate with desire. Stare down at the feast beneath you.

He groans roughly, understanding the look in your eyes. “Finally feeling a shred of the hell you forced me to endure,” he snarls, pupils dilating, pinching at your nipples. “Does it feel good?” He asks, hand dropping to your hips, raising you up so he can align himself. “Feel good to not get what you need? To not be able to touch something that’s yours?” His tip presses flush against the soft dip between your thighs, but goes no further.

Need pounds through your brain, demanding pleasure, right then and there. Writhe beneath he grip, shadows constraining and binding, dragging your arms behind your back, wrapping your forearms together. A pained snarl tears from your lungs, thrashing with rage, his tip just below you—ready to have you. Lip part; fangs flash, fury and blistering need murdering your mind.

Power ripples off you, talons piercing from your fingertips, tearing through his shadows. Claws hook over his shoulders, breaking free as you sink down, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Lips part in a silent moan, back arching as he completes you, cock touching those perfect spots that hadn’t even existed before. Breathing becomes heavier, cursing lowly as you roll over him, chest rising and falling as pleasure takes control.

Azriel hisses, caught off guard from the display of strength—unnatural strength. Growls roughly, lip curling back from his teeth with displeasure. He doesn’t like not being in absolute control, least of all in his own bed. Yet the moment your hips roll, calloused palms are gripping your waist, undeniable need stretching taut between you as the frenzy begins.

Beastly snarls and groans resound through the dim chamber, white sheets stained with red as you bind together, teeth and talons scraping viciously. The opening movements to a punishing symphony. Canines pierce your lip, arousal bleeding across his tongue as he slams you down atop him, hips smacking up against the backs of your thighs, control forcefully submitted to baser instincts: bite; feed; fuck.

Head tips back as you straighten, breathing heavily as you ride him, grinding against his cock, taking him as deep as your body will allow you to. Peer at him through dizzy eyes, the sweat gleaming on his chest, scars flecking his tough hide. How lovely it would be to add your own mark.

Azriel hardly has a chance to register what you’re doing before talons flash, slicing down his chest, their point dragging down his sternum, splitting skin to the base of his rib cage. Exquisite pain blossoms across his torso, blood erupting like a burst damn, spilling down; saturating the sheets. He roars with madness, fucking into you harder, twitching when you run your fingers through the swiftly healing wound. Hips stutter as your tongue flicks out over bloody digits, decadently raising them above your head, droplets splashing upon your tongue as you drink him down.

Blinding pleasure crashes across his skin, a gleaming thread finally snapping into place, glittering with tangible warmth—no longer muffled by your mortality. Hand snakes to the nape of your neck, dragging you down forcefully, teeth latching onto his chosen spot, piercing scar tissue, putting his pain deeper.

You clamp down on him, fluttering wildly as hips buck and stutter frenetically, following the innate instructions ingrained into your blood. Mouth parts in a ragged mix between a moan and a snarl, roaring out your possession. Claiming the male beneath you as your own, canines flashing with animal propriety.

It takes moments to rest, arousal burning at your skin, commanding movement, demanding pleasure.

He flips you over, giving your back a chance to rest as the great wings splay limply across the mattress. Thumbs hook over your front, fingers splaying at your back as he draws back only to slam in. Blood drips from the wound on his chest to splatter against your skin, your free hand raising to cup your breast, palming as he pounds into you, shadows encouraging that pleasurable arc of your spine.

It almost seems effortless on his part, the pleasure surging beneath your skin in response to his thrusts, lips parting wide as your head pushes back into the bed. Claws cut and scrape over the muscle of his back, talons slicing lightly at your collar bones as he holds you down. Snarl your need, his hips bucking sharply in punishment, mind dumbing as he sends you reeling. Wings flare in an open display of dominance, fucking you deeper into the mattress.

Canines stab at your lip, blood blossoming, trickling down your jaw. Hazel eyes latch on, dilating wide before leaning down, the rough flat of his tongue licking up to the puncture mark. Swallow thickly as you stare at one another, his hips slowing to a gentle lull, grinding between your thighs.

Growl in warning, breath mingling as your eyes narrow, hands fisting in his hair, forcefully crushing his mouth to your own. Lips part: soft, wet sounds being intimately exchanged, teeth catching and clinking with rushed laziness, carelessly encouraging the bloody mess between you. Bite his lower lip painfully, rolling your hips up sharply, commanding him to move.

He snarls lowly, hand moving to your throat to make clear who’s in control. Anger flickers in your chest, shadow smacking his claws away, legs wrapping tight around his hips. Tug him closer, cock driving deeper as you keep his mouth to your own, talons piercing the hide of his back, scratching dangerously close to the base of his wings, rippling with sensitivity.

A rough moan drags from your lungs, hooked claws digging beneath his skin, blood rupturing from his back as it pours from the wounds, trickling down his ribs to drip onto your chest. Your own darkness flickers, palming your breasts, thumbing across the peaks of your nipples—painting yourself in his colour.

Lips part as your high hits again, teeth flashing as you snarl, wings twitching on the bed as pleasure spins your world. Your release sets the bond ablaze, ecstasy gleaming across it as it blasts into the male above you, sending him into his own high. Hot cum fills you up, hips bucking against him, demanding more, needing him to empty every last drop of release into you, until the slightest movement will send his seed spilling out.

Pant heavily, trying to cool off but you can’t. There’s no time.

Already you’re aching all over again. Hungry. Starving.

Make to rise from the bed, but his palm presses against your sternum, shoving you roughly back into the mattress. Breathe heavily, relaxing beneath him, spreading your thighs wider in invitation.

Hazel flicks down, a muscle in his jaw ticking from how you’re squeezing him—like a taunt. Mocking him for his lack of action. Tongue slides over his lips, glaring down at you. “You should rest,” he manages, voice much thicker than usual. “Eat and sleep to ease the transition.”

You buck your hips in response, hand wrapping around his wrist, pulling it from your chest as you glide up to his shoulder. Arms lock at his neck, dragging him lower. “Then feed me,” you breathe, squeezing him tight.

His nostrils flare delicately, eyes glazed from your scent, taking in your arousal. Re-wets his lips, panting softly as he tries to keep a level head. But as always, you’re making it difficult. Plump lips inviting him to put his teeth into, nipples perky and in need of pinching, sex warm and wet—perfect for his cock.

Hands curl into fists, a growl building in his chest but he swallows it down, forcing himself away. You snarl, making to surge after him, raising up from his bed. Shadows lock over your shoulders, straining around your waist and forearms, pinning you down. “I said, you need to rest,” he growls, arms folding over his chest, glaring down at you.

Arousal burns beneath his skin, instincts latching onto the rise and fall of your chest, the milky gleam on your inner thighs, the intensity that you’re eyeing him with. The perfect fucking scene, and he has to walk away. Get some food. The transition’s always tougher on females, and you were weak enough beforehand. He doesn’t need any of that bleeding over into your eternal life because he couldn’t fucking keep it to himself.

He expects more resistance from you, considering how dominant you’d been minutes before—back still slightly stinging from your blades—yet you’ve settled into the sheets, watching him silently. Something brewing in your mind.

Nod your head to the door, pupils narrowing into slits. “I’ll be here, then,” you hiss, lips twisting into a self-deprecating smile. “Here to use when you feel like fucking something.”

Hairs raise at the nape of his neck, urging him to snap back, but that would be entertaining your mood, and he has no time to deal with this new insolence the transition has awoken. He’s sure a few more rounds will mellow you out. Have you in a more digestible form.

So he turns, leaving you shackled to his bed, shadows adorning him with clothes.

That unnerving gleam in your eyes haunting him long after he’s left the room.

————

It takes him minutes to steady himself for the scent that will hit him as soon as he steps inside, already threatening to bring him to his knees upon the threshold to his own chambers. Still, you need food, and he’s brought it. You just need to eat, then he can fuck you until you’re begging for rest.

Cock twitches in his leathers at the imagery. How he would remind you that he’d instructed you to rest, and you hadn’t listened. He wonders whether you’ll be tired enough by then to simply collapse, or whether you’ll protest. Fight back like he’s been aching to see you do.

Yet when he enters, every muscle in his body locks to prevent him from splattering the food on the walls.

You’ve coaxed your way out of his bindings, shifted onto your stomach, hips held aloft by two stacked pillows. Legs are parted, another cushion tucked comfily beneath your torso, clutched beneath crossed arms, head lulling peacefully atop it. Spine curves with entitled demand, shadows snaking up your thighs, building over your heat.

A hum purrs in your throat, darkness moving independent from his will, tracing up the knuckles of your back, a pleased sound breathing from your lips as shadows soothe the ridges of new wings—stroking their base, grazing to their peaks. He watches, frozen, as you shudder on his bed, hips grinding against darkness, rolling your hips. Watches as your lips part in a moan, pleasure having your muscles seizing, soft sounds of enjoyment rolling from your tongue.

Whine gently, rolling onto your back. Thigh parting as eyes lock, lips curving into a smug smile. Arousal bubbles beneath his skin, instinct roaring for him to dismiss the food, instead stalking forward to handle your legs over his shoulders so he can fuck you dumb.

Teeth prod your lower lip sultrily, peering at him as shadows draw away from your wet heat, strands of slick dripping onto the sheets, stringing between your thighs. Begging for him to attach his mouth to, bury his tongue in your cunt like you let him all that time ago. It feel like centuries. Worlds apart.

“You brought food,” you drawl, eyes greedily trailing down his chest, drinking in the obvious shape of his arousal. Frustration fritzes his brain as you have the audacity to lick your lips—openly taunting him. The urge to shift into a more beastly form hits him like a kick to the stomach, baser impulses turning feral in your presence. Unbearably urging him to slam into you, to fuck you until you’re full, abdomen inflated with his release.

Grits his teeth as he stalks forward, shadows carrying the platter to the edge of the circular mattress. Shadows hastily depart from your body, meekly returning to wreath him. You grin a little as they leave, as if sharing a secret that he’s excluded from. What the hell kind of transition consequence is this? He expected fatigue, and raised libido. Not this…heaven.

“You were supposed to be resting,” he grits out, arms folding over his chest, cutting an imposing figure as he looms at the far end of the mattress. Leg bends at the knee, hand cupping your breast. “I was resting,” you counter, smirking, “I hardly lifted a finger.”

Blood boils in his veins, half out of frustration—you should have been sleeping, replenishing your strength—and half out of arousal. “You’ve seemingly woken up with an attitude, wife,” he growls, lips twitching. Prowls forward onto the bed, arms caging you in as you settle primly upon the pillows—his pillows, marked with his scent. “We’ll get that fucked right out of you, won’t we?”

Legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking as you urge him toward you, feeling the heavy weight of his cock atop your heat, resting upon slick-coated skin. “You’re welcome to try,” you muse, clawed fingers grazing the muscle of his back, tracing over freshly healed skin. Teeth clasp your lip, as if you’re considering breaking it apart again, slicing into muscle just to revel in your power. He silently prays you will, aching to feel the sting of your pleasure. “But you reap what you sow, Azriel.”

The words don’t fully register in his mind as you put your talons into his flesh, hands fisting the sheets as gleaming pain blossoms across his back, wings shuddering as it lances through muscle. Groans as he drags his hips back, tip nudging at your entrance. Thighs tighten around him, pushing him forward as he slides in to the hilt—hips flush with your own.

Watches as he always does while enjoyment blooms across your features, contorting with the ecstasy he’s serving you. Finally allowing yourself to accept it instead of shying away from what you deserve. A purr rumbles in his chest at the blissed out expression, pulling upright to gently drag his thumb across your clit.

A shaky moan rewards his efforts, legs pulling him deeper. “Move,” you breathe, hands wrapping around his wrists, sliding up to his shoulders, revealing in the powerful muscle contained beneath his rich, warm skin. A growl tears from his throat at the order, surprised at how ready he is to obey. “So demanding,” he taunts, dragging back only to push back in.

Back curves upward, shadows flicking over your breasts, pinching at your nipples as one of his arms wraps beneath your back. One moment, you’re laying flat on his bed, and the next he has you splayed over his lap, flipped so you’re straddling his hips, pushing his cock deeper as you sink down.

His pupils expand, white of his eyes swallowed within pitch darkness, fangs protruding from his upper lip. Moan loudly as you clench around him, cock broadening beneath the tip, pressing against delicious spots that have you craving him. Hips buck and roll, urging him to move.

The rough callouses of his palm rasp against your throat, splaying over the toughened skin as he directs your gaze to his. “Move,” he taunts, grinning as you writhe, snarling viciously as he refuses to give what you both need. “Azriel,” you snarl, syllables ripping from your tongue.

He grips your jaw, holding you still as lips graze your own. “You wanted to laze there, on our bed, not lifting a finger?” He growls, arousal blurring his mind. “Then you’re going to sit there, and you’re going to fucking take it.” Hands grip your hips, claws biting as he raises you to his tip and slams you down, bucking sharply in to target the spot that will have you screaming.

Your body goes limp, defenceless even with all these new reparations instilled. He pounds up into you, abusing the spots that have tears blurring your vision. Reducing you to a helpless mess all over again, only able to cling onto him as he takes what he wants. Tears spill from your lashes as it’s snatched away. Fight back the only way you can by stabbing your claws into his back, ripping at muscle, scraping away at carefully cultivated power.

The high ripples across your skin, mouth parting as you bite into his shoulder, fangs piercing the tough hide as you reopen the wound you’d stamped earlier, torn between inflicting pain for what he’s done to you, and pleasure for what he is doing to you.

He may think you’re finally his—one of his kind now you’re slashing and biting like he’d inadvertently taught you to—but these claws are yours, and this magic thrums with restless need.

He doesn’t even understand the hell he’s released upon himself.

The world of chaos that’s been unleashed.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Jail-bird

《Yandere Talon!Dick Grayson x Reader》

Talon Dick Grayson. A soldier for the Court of Owls. One of the most highly trained, ruthless, cold-blooded assassins in the selection.

In This Au: He wasn't able to be saved by Bruce, instead taken in by the court as a child soldier. Raised with knowledge and used in many missions, playing any part or role perfectly without missing a beat.

He was flawless in every single way, but tainted in his entire core.

People on the street swoon at his beauty and stature. Every step is graceful but calculated.

His smiles don't reach his eyes.

Often travels due to the missions he is assigned by the court.

Overall, he lives in a simple apartment complex in a middle to lower class apartment in Büldhaven. His cover, the real identity he threw away when he was taken by the court.

His neighbors like him, but not much is known about him. They chalk it up to him being shy and a private person.

He toys with his victims before their curtains close.

-

"You are way too.. What's the word..." You mumble, watching your friend stare at the glittering white curtains surrounding the ballroom. "Buff, I'm gonna be honest. You could easily become a heavy weight champ with your strength." You laughed, placing the white colored cream cake on the table.

You sigh sweetly at the table where the bride and groom would sit.

"Weddings, huh?" Dick asked, side-eyeing your sweet expression.

You hum at him, "Yup, someday.. Hey, who knows? Maybe you'll find your own partner someday, too." You state, glancing over at your companion. Their eyes a little to brigh for your liking.

-

-

[Ta-da!!! I have to go through all my drafts and either delete them or finish.. Aughhh, it's my spring cleaning...]

[mspaintbrush]

every big guy deserves a delicate object to hold in his giant hands as he reminisces about days past

[popawritter12]

yandere high noon talon headcanons?

Yandere! High Noon Talon headcanons

Author's note: I like the initiative they all of you are taking, I never seriously thought about making headcanons for this skin <;3.

Chances of your loved ones being killed

We are talking about a fucking DEMON who travels on a fucking train where they take souls collected from other people.

A solid 70%

Although let's talk about if they don't die for him, they die for any of his other demon friends.

First impressions

You were an inhabitant of a seedy town, you lived with your partner in a house somewhat far from the rest of the town. While they both lived comfortably, it was more than obvious that both of you dealt with demons or other dangerous creatures.

While neither of obth of them were demon hunters, they could manage to keep other creatures or humans at bay solely to maintain their survival. Mainly they knew about the powder train, and about the “horsemen of the Apocalypse,” so to speak.

Even with all the bad experiences you had with bad blood demons, you were looking for peace with one of these. You were not a pacifist, but if you could avoid a fight where you were disadvantaged, then you avoided it.

You loved your partner very much, but you couldn't spend much time together because of their job on the railways, so most of the time you spent it alone, with you and your animals alone, you were the “perfect prey” for any demon.

However, you had some tools to defend yourself. And although more than once you questioned to what extent you could defend your beloved home and your own life from those beings eager for some soul to take, in the end there was always only one conclusion; that damn train won't take you today, or tomorrow, or that damn year.

One night, you find Talon; you had heard your dogs barking constantly and annoyingly, and it wasn't until you went outside that you saw him on the outskirts of your field, injured and weak.

Against all odds you took him home, but to a secluded place, one where your partner couldn't find him.

When he was able to speak, he just thanked you. Although you wanted to treat him well, you knew demons well, and you especially knew that given the slightest opportunity he would murder you, and take your soul to that damned railroad.

You didn't talk much to him, limiting yourself to asking him how he had gotten to that place and what had hurt him so much. He hummed a vague answer about a bandit (Though the "bandit" was only begging for they soul to not be stolen), and while you wanted to ask him more, you only gave him the benefit of the doubt about his alibi.

You were too cautious when talking to him, and only healed him and gave him some hot food, also saying that he had permission to sleep in that place until dawn, but that he would not be welcomed in another room in your house.

He, although he had planned to kill you, didn't do it, not because he “was actually a good person”, it was because there was something that did not allow him to do so.

He always had the chance, he could sneak up behind you and put a blade through your chest, but something in his mind wouldn't let him. Something rooted in his heart still beating against all thoughts of his mind, justifying his actions, and all of that prompted a humble act of kindness on your part.

It wasn't until dawn came that, in his twisted head, there was only the thought of letting you live, even if it was to know more about you before taking you to the train, to the place you hated so much.

First murder or Yandere act.

Talon resorts to watching you from afar, hoping to learn why his mind refuses the idea of taking you with him, but the more he looked at you, the more he tried to get closer to you or learn basic things like what you like to eat, the more the idea of take you away from your lover resoned in his head, to finally give you closure rather than leave you to your fate against any horseman of the apocalypse or any other demon bold enough to take your soul and carry it as if it were his property. But something that was particularly like a stab in the heart was discovering that you were in a relationship.

He wasn't particularly zealous with humans, I mean, he basically doesn't care about humans, being that he could kill them whenever he wanted, and however he wanted.

But seeing how that person took you, caressed your skin or filled your ears with words of love while spreading kisses all over your body… It was like one of the worst tortures for him.

And he decides to take this person's life.

Your partner was just as kind as you, but exclusively with humans; any other creature would not enjoy the same respect that they gives to his peers.

However, he was more absent-minded than you; Working so many hours on the railroad led them to feel quite tired, more than a regular one; more so due to the fact that their boss was not particularly friendly or companionable to his employees. That gave Talon many more advantages than he already had.

In a particular day, when he saw them leaving work, he decided to act. And it didn't take long until your beloved partner arrived home; full of stab wounds, wounds to the chest and face, while they could barely breathe. The sensations he was going through were like a living hell for them. As soon as you managed to take them in your hands, you dragged him to a nearby chair, before going to look for medicine, the hope of being able to save him lay in your mind, over and over again.

But when you saw your beloved again, you had the misfortune to see him too.

A grimace of anger appeared on your face, as you yelled at him if he was the author of such an attack. The blonde didn't answer you, he just looked at the dying one: now that he thought about it clearly, it was the first time he felt a certain… satisfaction, a pleasure ran through his heart like a beautiful tingling that could only be compared against the feeling he had when he found you for the first time, when he had the good fortune to find a human who received him with such warmth.

And his hand approached the body of that person; the blood generating an aroma between intense and tense in the air. You immediately jumped on him, a cry of desperation as you tried to save your loved one. Your screams were just desperate questions about why he did this, why he made you suffer so much, but he didn't answer you.

With all the pain in his heart, he hurt you; pushing your body against the wall in a brutal and even savage manner, before taking the soul of the dying person in his hands; a soft plea coming from the wandering soul as the person looked at the demon, the only thing you managed to understand was that your loved wanted him to leave you alone, that he could take their soul if he wanted but not to harm you or make you suffer.

Relationship or kidnapping

It was very clear that he wouldn't listen to those words at all, right?

As soon as you managed to open your eyes, you saw the corpse of your loved one; dead, rotting while only subtly leaning back. In front of you was the demon you had previously received for a simple impulsive act of kindness.

And it's obvious that he takes you. but not to the train. In his mind, there was only the idea of how beautiful you were as a human; even with his certain disdain for that species, to him you looked so good like this; weak, sensitive and even submissive under him.

But he hides you in a place where not even the railroad demon could find you; No one knew about your whereabouts from the moment he took you away from everyone, and rest assured that it will be like this until the end of your days.

Coexistence

Very irritating for you.

The few times he is with you he seeks to pamper you, give you hugs and kisses, no matter how much you deny him, he will continue to seek that affection over and over again, believing that sooner or later you would give in and accept his love. And even though you knew that was very far from reality, he insisted, to a totally irritating point.

He doesn't usually punish you, he isn't attracted to the idea of hurting you, deciding better to only threaten you in a way that he knew could cause fear within your heart, however if you are too stubborn, then it can drive him to a pretty big point of anger.

Marriage and family

In case you're wondering, no, I don't see either of those things as possible.

I mean, in marriage I say we're talking about a fucking DEMON, and in terms of getting along with your family, well, let's just say that at this point in the story it's pretty obvious that he's no longer interested.

If possible, children?

Nah,

He knows the end is coming, but in his mind he only thinks about spending as much time as he can with you, without letting any other demon or human lay a finger on you. He already had enough trouble trying to convince you that he was okay with EVERYTHING he did, so it would be even harder for him to want to have a child with you.

Bad ending.

I HAVE BEEN THINKING THIS FROM THE BEGINNING

Suppose that, after the kidnapping, you are cornered by another demon or human, who takes you away from where he had hidden you, and when he notices it he loses his mind.

Like Zed, he is capable of moving HEAVEN AND EARTH to find you again, and when he does, he makes a decision… something that does disagree with the decision Zed makes.

He hugs you, fills you with affection and I even dare to say that he can sob; saying that he was so afraid that they would take you away from him.

His caresses are sweet, his words are soft as cotton, almost as if he's actually been afraid of you walking away from him. You could even hear his heartbeat; accelerated, almost as if it were about to explode from so much adrenaline.

You thought that maybe it wasn't so bad, that maybe he really wanted to defend you and love you purely, after all he looked for you even under the rocks just to find you and give you a hug and tell you that he loved you. But a blade in your abdomen interrupted you. It didn't take long before he gave you a soft kiss on your lips, his eyes overflowing with tears that run down his cheeks while his weapon pierces and opens your delicate skin like a hunter opening his first hunted animal.

He whispered regrets and apologies to you so many times that your ears grew tired of hearing it, as if they just wanted to stop hearing his broken voice, but he couldn't help but do so.

His heart sank in his chest, feeling pure regret for having subjected you to this level, yet it was the first time that everything surrounding this world had finally surpassed him.

And, the moment he took the hand of your wandering soul, he could only feel the hatred in your eyes, the contempt with which you looked at him; he took everything from you, your life, your reason for living, the person you loved most, the ability to see any way to escape, and now he claimed your soul as his own, dragging your existence onto that train from which you had escaped for so long.

He would not allow any other demon to claim that person's soul, and if he had to separate their soul from their body in order to ensure that fact, then he would do it a thousand times over.

Reasons to be a Yandere

-In the story “A Stranger on the Road” the same story tell us that he can feel regret about killing humans, even when it was something he forced himself to do. He is able to feel, and is able to know that his actions are wrong, so we can assume that he has feelings as basic as regret or love.

-He's not used to someone's kindness, especially in a time as complicated as it is, well, THE ENTIRE HIGH NOON UNIVERSE.

(This section is short since I don't know what to put to justify the space, I try to compensate in the data part)

Extra data:

-This version of Talon is the most affectionate towards you, and we can see that he is a little more emotional than the other versions.

-He is very curious about you; He may know everything about you but he would ask you what you like over and over again, until he hates everything about you from head to toe.

-He enjoys you caressing his hair, since he feels that being in your arms was the best feeling that he couldn't compare to anything.

-After the bad ending, he follows you throughout the train, even trying to prevent other souls or demons from touching you; It wasn't because of fear of being hurt, just because of jealousy.

-He usually takes care of EVERYTHING after he takes you to the train, wanting to lock you in a car exclusively for yourself, just to prevent anyone else from laying a hand on you.

-If you meet your former partner on the train and try to talk to them, Talon will react badly; he would take you away from that person, even if it included dragging you by the hand.

[11cleyvaart]

He'll save his babygirl later.

First he has to stop his 14 year old niece.

Here's blank if you want it

[aniquinade]

you and i, born as fools now you and i think, think we rule now and we seem to fall towards burning.

it is said that before their marriage of convenience and unspoken rivalry for control of the world, the new god of murder and the vampire ascendant might have truly loved each other… if only for a time.

[zileans-big-cl0ck]

✦–Dirty talk with League men (how do they call you and how do they want to be called in bed).✦ NSFW

✦Basically praise kink.

✧ prompt: ✧ I had this laying in my drafts for, like, eternity, so I’m not quite sure how did I come up with this. Prob my voice kink kicked in.

✧ champions: ✧ Zed, the Master of Shadows; Thresh, the Chain Warden; Kayn, the Shadow Reaper; Talon the Blade’s Shadow; Shen, the Eye of Twilight.

✧ reader: ✧ female.

✧ warnings: ✧ obvi NSFW; dirty talk; praise kink; sub!Kayn because I love him being submissive; degradation; bondage; Thresh is a sadistic brat.

✧ author’s note: ✧ ignore any mistakes since I'm too tired to read this for the third time or smth. And please don't eat me alive for Kayn's part, I have like two other drafts with sub!Kayn headcanons for the appreciation of a dom!reader, which we need more‼️

masterlist

✦Zed, the Master of Shadows.

Zed can do both: if you enjoy degrading, he will call you a slut or a bitch, but if you prefer soft petnames, something more subtle and fragile, he can call you his little shadow.

He isn’t really talkative, especially in bed. The Master of Shadows usually keeps on his mask of a stoic, ruthless person, silent and deadly. He lets out some heavy grunts of frustration thought.

But your apperance makes him feel different. Complitely different.

He can be a real dirt talker when desired. Whispering in your ear sweet promises of the things he is going to do to you, when you sit obediently on his lap.

You are going to melt in his hands from his voice only anyway.

As for him, he doesn't need you speaking to him during sex. Zed enjoys your cries and moans, there is no need for rushed words.

But he has one weakness, that he would never admit outloudly.

Call him Master, as his official title states, from time to time. And watch him tensing from your subtle tease.

Moan Master Zed and he will be yours for a while. Hopeless and lost in your innocent being that admits his supremacy, so alluring.

✦Thresh, the Chain Warden.

This sadistic demon would probably call you something simillar to his own property. It is a well known fact how controlling he is, as he treats the petty souls of those who lost them to him like pathetic objects.

Therefore, a pathetic little soul would work too.

But on the other hand, Thresh doesn’t want you to adress him at all.

He wants you to be all chained up in a convoluted position, with something in your mouth so you can't mutter a single word.

The only sounds he demands are the cries of yours, either of pleasure or from pain that is caused by his tortures.

So no talking back. No calling him. Only painful screams and your chained body under him, fetching and gorgeous, yet moving away from the touch of his cold claws.

His plaything.

✦Kayn, the Shadow Reaper.

Starting with what he would love to hear from you pretty mouth…

Please, call him a good boy.

Call him handsome. Call him yours and yours only.

But call him a good boy. And he will become a hopeless mess under your body.

It makes him feel appreciated and adored by you, the person his soul crawls for. When you take care of him, when you are so gentle…

Oh, it is impossible for him to not call you mommy. If you enjoy it, of course.

He would mutter the sweet name out of his breath, while you ride him.

✦Talon, the Blade’s Shadow.

Some would call him eternal silent, maybe even grumpy. But he is just not used to a genuine company of a caring human being.

Every segment of his body was made for killing, his devotion - the job of an assassin.

But he is capable of love - the fire kind, full of sacred desire that ends his continency that had been made to prevent him from wandering off from the path of a killer. Greedy and possessive, where he wants your body under his own to claim you whole, mark as his, force you to stay by his side.

Under the cover of a private room, he becomes a tease. Talon finds your whimpers adorable whenever he whisper a husky good girl into your ear.

On the other side, you hear him saying ’my name doesn’t matter’ in different situations, official or not, definitely too many times. So you make sure to moan his name in the moments of pleasure, when you bury your face in the pillow of your bed, feeling the sensation building up in your core, hearing the obscene sounds of melting bodies.

And it touches his weak spot. To have his name on your lips, cherished, adored.

✦Shen, the Eye of Twilight.

He is a gentleman, a sweetheart and the most respectful man you know - he would never dare to degrade you in any possible situation.

Therefore Shen is more eager to call you ma’am or love, or with the relationship ongoing - just a simple my gorgeous wife.

When it comes to petnames, he is a simple man - he desires a sweet and adoring confession, like handsome or just his own name. It always sounds heavenly when it comes as a hot whisper of pleasure from your mouth.

[sshadowritestoriess]

DISMANTLED CAUSE

Pairing: Ramattra x reader

Words: 10,096

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: Explicit

Ramattra has suffered a malfunction in a final stand for the futile pride of the Null Sector, and he oddly asks for his own deconstruction. His request confuses you, but who are you to deny the opportunity to get intimate with his mechanics?

[skunkes]

,

[magicalbunbun]

Is not my type of artstyle but I enjoy it :)

TWO BIRDS AU🐦🕊

[whirlybirbs]

grim…………………………………….

;   —   burnt   |   chief medical officer grim

summary: grim gets shot. pairing: grim (clone trooper oc) / nurse!reader tags: medical procedure, minor body gore a/n: oh my god a star wars fic? for my boy??????

"What did I tell you—"

The medical tent is chaos, and you're at the helm. You slide a look to Kilo, who already has a sterilized set of surgical scissors at the ready. Kilo hands it off quickly, and below you, a certain Chief Medical Officer makes a strangled noise on the cot. 

"I know, fuck, can we be a little nicer to me?" he grits out, face down, "I just got shot, okay? A little sympathy goes a long—FUCK." 

"Are you lecturing me in bedside manners?" you ask, now gripping the molten piece of plastoid armor you'd just dug out from his shoulder between the scissors. Your surgical gloves are dappled with blood. You waggle it, a bite of anger rising in your cheeks, "You? Really? Really?"

"I love being under you, but right now you're scaring me—"

Grim probably deserves this. Getting shot in the back while hauling casualties off the field was bound to happen sooner or later — he'd dodged enough blaster bolts, close enough that he'd felt the heat through his armor, to know his luck was starting to dwindle. But it's a habit he isn't willing to break. 

The Felucian heat clings to his neck. Mud and pollen and blood paint his armor with all sorts of muddied violence. You and Kilo had dragged him back to the travel med-tent by his arms as he'd kicked and screamed — even now, he bites his knuckle and ignores the taste of mud on the nanopreen. 

"FU—ck."

You wince. Maybe you were being a little too rough. The wound is almost clean — that's the tricky part with these new CIS bolt shots, isn't it? The heat modifier on the barrel alters the reloads enough to eat through the Kamonioan's standard issue plastoid. Fuses it right with the skin. The only way to really ensure a decent heal is to carve out the melted armor from the burn site. Lots of bacta, too. 

"I'm almost done—" your voice is strained as you lean over him and smooth a hand down his back. The hole in his bodysuit is nearly the size of your fist. 

"Kilo?"

"Yessir?"

"I want you to take your blaster and shoot me in the fuckin' head, put me down like a fuckin'—"

You pluck a particularly stubborn piece of plastoid from the wound and Grim nearly folds in on himself. On instinct, you reach to soothe his hair. Guilt bubbles up, and you grit your teeth together tightly.

"I'm done. All done. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know," you hush quickly; the professionalism maintained is gone, and right now you're not nurse and CMO. It's just you and the man you love, "Kilo, could you get me the 1.8ml stim from the health pack— the blue."

"No," comes Grim's hoarse voice; suddenly, he's exhausted. The adrenaline has started to fade, "No stim."

Your fingers pause. Right. 

"No stim," you affirm gently.

He reaches back blindly, over his head, and you take his hand with ease. Blood and mud forgot you squeeze his fingers. He squeezes back. 

"No stim."