#talon x you

[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.

[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.

[trialsofthedas]

Rook: *sneaking in through their window after a night at the villa*

Viago: *turning in their chair and flicking the light on* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Rook: I was out with Teia?

Teia: *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?

[nightingaletrash]

Viago and Teia: *forever maintaining the balance of will-they-won't-they, always keeping the other Houses guessing if they're actually a united front or if it's all an alliance of convenience, meant to disrupt the confidence of their rivals and ensure their own strength* Lucanis and Rook: *declaring their undying love for each other within five feet of Morrigan, who has already proven to be a horrible gossip*

[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]

Yn relationship with others

And with jason:

Sorry not sorry

[letternotekisses]

ok but saucy thoughts aside im talkin bout talon assistant reader genuinely being cute and silly with her agents:

Moira more often than not lets you eat your lunch in her lab provided that none of it comes in contact with her projects. She was hyper focused - her perfectly manicured nails holding still a tawny brown ball of fur, adorned with a baby pink button nose that sniffled the air hesitantly. You’d practically squealed when she raised a needle to the poor thing, and she quirked a brow when you hurried over to clutch the animal to your chest.

Moira appeared unimpressed with you. Her angular chin upturned as she peered down at you, baby talking the rabbit she had planned to test on. You looked up at her with eyes big and watery enough to rival the little creatures, and she sighed dramatically. The geneticist had a feeling that wrangling the critter out of your arms wouldn’t be so easy now that you’d seen what plans she had for it.

So that is how Lucky came to be. Despite Moira’s cold disposition, she enjoyed your company, and would like you to continue body doubling with her whilst she worked. The only way not to send you fleeing from her lab in tears, clutching the rabbit to your chest, was to keep it around. It has its own little space laden with toys and plush surfaces - a rather spoiled little animal.

Moira allowed the rabbit to stay, under the one condition that she name it. She’ll never tell you why, but she named the little guy Lucky because not only was he ‘lucky’ to avoid her experiments that day - he also gives you more excuses to come into her lab - and she feels ever so lucky for it.

Sombra finds unique methods to get your attention. She lurks around the base almost as well as Gabe does, but she’s not necessarily doing it to be broody. She can get greedy with your attention, so she finds ways to lure you off base so that she can have you all to herself for a little bit.

Sombra often hacks into Akande’s email to send you on faux errand runs, just for little things like coffee where she can swoop in for some quality time. And don’t worry, she pays for the dates and ensures you’re back on base by the time your break is finished.

Sombra also leaves little gifts where she thinks you might find them. Although, they’re never really that little. You’re always taken aback by new, expensive top-range electronics laden in purple ribbon on your desk. You know who leaves them, because they’re backed up with the best firewalls around and the display has a tiny purple skull on it.

Sometimes she just straight deposits thousands into your account. As a treat. Sombra only rolls her eyes when you try to decline the amount, flustered and telling her that it’s ’way too much’ but she honestly couldn’t care less. She’s perfectly able to spoil you and that’s exactly what she’ll do.

Reaper likes to play off that he doesn’t enjoy your company (he’s coping) but he’s also always skulking wherever you’ve been. You’re a bit of a yapper, especially when it’s early mornings in the Talon communal area, so he likes to sit and listen to you. If you stagger whilst talking because you think he isn’t listening, he’ll give you a stare so hard that you swear you can feel it through his mask. So you keep talking and his shoulders sag with contentment once more. (He now knows every single type of coffee you like, and you should expect a mysterious package of literally all of them in the kitchen next week.)

He’s a grump, and sulked for an entire week when you once changed your perfume. Reaper even went to lengths to shadow-step into your room to throw the new one out and replace it with a fresh bottle of your old one. It wasn’t cheap, but as long as you keep using it, he’s happy to buy them for you.

He’s also happy to scare off any of the overconfident Talon grunts who think you’re easy pickings. In fact, I’d say he takes great pleasure in showing those idiots who the pretty secretary belongs to. (He’s been doing this behind your back because he’s too edgy and emo to approach you directly and would rather trail you in the corridors like some sort of creep, but he means well.)

Reaper gets a little jealous over your attention from time to time, but with help from his unorthodox teammates (and you) he learns to share.

Amelie is slower to approach, but she’s all the more meaningful when she does. She may not be able to feel, but she more than just tolerates your company. She finds herself inviting you over for bottles of wine more often, showing you her manor and her dear guard hounds who’ve come to be much too gentle under your affections. Yet, she can’t find it in herself to blame you.

You show her simplicity in a blank and cold world - and soon enough her manor grows less full of cobwebs and vines, instead beaming with sunlight and the tiny succulents you’d gifted her with. You won’t replace Gerard, but Amelie still lets you dust off the weathered picture frames as if you’d been married together in this old house for years.

You help manage her hair, winding long and silky strands between your fingers, brushing against the elegant slope of her back. She welcomes your touch, despite the warm and cold contrast of your skin on hers.

Amelie craves the casual and domestic intimacy you provide her. She introduces you to self defence and gun wielding so you can take care of yourself without her, and you introduce her to reality tv and an absurd collection of coffee mugs. She would not take it any other way.

Sigma’s musings start small when he hears you humming a certain tune one day. It’s catchy, likely a pop song you’d heard on the radio whilst on your way to work, or maybe it was a song you’d been blasting in your bedroom the night before? He’d found himself picking up on it, unable to shake it until he’s humming it himself.

Eventually when you sit down with him for tea, he questions you about it, yet when you tell him the name of the song and he listens to it, he doesn’t necessarily feel the same pull.

The next week, when you’re passing by his lab in a hurry, heels clacking against the glossy wooden floor and papers flying in a trail behind you, he catches you humming another song. Another tune. He smiles softly to himself, picking up the documents you’d left behind.

Sigma realises then that the song wasn’t necessarily catchy enough to stick with him. He’d only picked them up because they reminded him of you.

Mauga is always excited to have you around. Sometimes he can be a bit much, but with two hearts he’s bound to have twice your energy. So that’s why he absolutely insists that you sit on his back whilst he does pushups. No matter what you weigh he’s not gonna break a sweat, so you might as-well relax on his back while he works out, instead of wasting precious quality time you could have together.

He’d suggested that you sit on other things too, but you’d smacked his bicep hard enough that the muscle rippled and he got the message to behave. You were still sore from the last time he said that.

Mauga also is a big cuddler, meaning, if you’re doing something he doesn’t deem as important, you’re being quite literally swept off your feet and dumped onto a soft surface like a wet kitten. Where he then hauls you onto his chest and squishes your face into his bicep, unfortunately for you, two hearts means he runs WARM. And you’re out like a light in less than 10. Smug bastard.

Big dude loves to show you off, too. Takes you back to some of his old haunts (pays for all of your drinks) and puts a song he knows you like on the jukebox. Sure, the night ends in a bar fight, a back-alley fuck and the worst take out you’ve had in your life, but would you have it any other way? Absolutely-fuckin-not.

And finally, the big boss of them all, Akande. Who’s satisfied with the knowledge that each of his subordinates treat you well and good, but knows he holds the ultimate claim. He holds the golden chain of your leash.

He treats you softly, like a well pampered pet all trussed up in the finest materials around. But it’s not always money with him. Sure, Akande has it, and he’s gonna flaunt it, maybe stuff a few bills in your panties when you least expect it but he also knows you’re not just a pretty face. Both he and his top agents have become adjusted to you in their lives, morale is high, people have improved.

You’re here to stay, and it’s only locked into place when he awakes one morning, your legs are tangled underneath satin sheets, and you’re drooling on his bare chest. He laughs - a deep rumble that shakes his chest and has you groaning at him to stop moving in a sweet, sleep addled mumble. You even give him a little kick under the covers.

Akande makes sure you’ll never want nor need again, and he’s sure that his team feel the same way about this odd, sweet assistant that stumbled into their lives.

[necrotic-nephilim]

i personally have very complicated feelings on the Gotham Knights video game and the routes it takes with characterization. i think it has a charm to it and it goes in an interesting direction with everyone (especially within the confides of the plot of the game) but it does have certain moments that veer painfully fanon for me. (such as: the dialogue where Tim drinks too much coffee) it's an interesting story for what it is but i don't view it comics-based for characterization and therefore don't care to interact with it much for like. fanfic purposes.

that *said* though. i do have to give the game some kind of credit for giving one of the top five JayTim moments that lives rent free in my mind. every since i played the game, the cutscene lives in my mind daily. it's the specific cutscene where Jason and Tim are arguing about whether or not Jason's non-lethal bullets are too dangerous for the field, and the argument leads to TIm *standing in front of the target* Jason is shooting and telling Jason to shoot him. it lives rent free for me. i never stop thinking about this.

the absolute certainty Tim has that he is in no danger standing in front of Jason, who has a loaded gun pointed at his face. the way Jason *hesitates* for just a moment before lowering the gun. he thinks about it for just a second. Gotham Knights JayTim seem to get along very well and can rely on each other, but Jason still clearly holds a bitterness about his death and Tim that flickers through in some lines of dialogue under the guise of jokes. especially since this game deals *heavily* with concepts of Pit Madness causing an altered state of consciousness, i think it's believable that occasionally, Jason fights the urge to fight and hurt Tim for the feeling of being replaced.

i like their tension so much in this canon. they get along but you can *tell* Tim is afraid of addressing Jason's trauma or even addressing Jason head-on, and Jason leans into spooking Tim about it. which isn't very comics feeling in their dynamic, but it is an interesting way to place their dynamic if you're playing with a more timid Tim who's newer to the role of Robin. (which he seems to be in-game) he really doesn't want to offend Jason, or worse, piss him off. but he'll still face Jason head on for things like this, while completely aware of what Jason could be capable of.

and Jason seems very protective of Tim and respecting Tim as a Robin in typical Jason fashion. if Tim pushes, Jason *will* relent. he knows this is a kid who's proved himself and should be treated with equal respect, sometimes even more than Dick and Babs do in-game.

so for all that to culminate in Tim stepping in front of Jason's loaded gun that he *knows* is on the edge of being too dangerous, just to force Jason to listen? it's the most unhinged way Tim could've gotten his point across in this scene. he was literally daring Jason to hurt him and playing with a very dangerous fire. but he did it anyway bc he believed he could make Jason heel just at the thought of hurting Tim. and he was *right*. they're gay and i'm feral ty.

[vaguely-concerned]

you know it is hard to not feel for caterina a little in my worldstate. she loses sight of lucanis for a couple of months while her other grandson has her in jail for grandmother time-out, and by the time she sees him again he is in full undying devotion mode for the guy she sent to get him back. her grandson finally brought someone home, and it's a fairly low-level elven mortalitasi whose family background is 'idk we found this baby in a crypt and liked their vibes' who will not be giving her any biological grandchildren. not even one of the politically well-connected scheming mortalitasi, which could at least have been useful (nevarra is a bustling market for the crows! twenty contracts on the king alone and still going strong! still a payday baby let the good times roll!), but one of the dutybound earnest little freaks they keep down in the necropolis to wrangle skeletons and write esoteric papers and who frankly don't care that much about murder b/c death comes to us all in its own time anyway trust us on this one. lucanis looks at him like he hung the moon, the sun, every celestial object and glittering star in the sky, like he's the only real thing in the world. and in caterina vision she sees this weird little slip of a goth mage guy wearing too much kohl who cracks jokes at strange times and is so hard to read but also gives her the unmistakable flinty 'I'll try to keep this civil if you do the same. If.' eye contact over lucanis' shoulder sometimes, with the utter grave calm that only someone who's a speaker to the dead (and the dead are savage) and who has killed several gods and wouldn't back down from second deicide if necessary could bring to bear. she sucks and deserves this and more but she also does have a whole Situation on her hands here

(I love that rye's relationship to lucanis' family is basically 'I met some of the most insufferable people. but, they also met me'. he tangoed with the god of lies and betrayal so he could waltz his way through a dellamorte family dinner relatively unscathed)

[amarmeme]

I need someone to make a gloves for Viago mod.

This will just not do!! He's neurotic and obsessed with protecting himself from being poisoned. These free digits are obscene.

From Eight Little Talons

[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.

[purple-obsidian]

i am drooling

PICS OF THEM IN YOUR CAMERA ROLL — bruce wayne, dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, terry mcginnis, talon.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ WARNINGS: personal face claims ノ suggestive content.

✩ BRUCE WAYNE

✩ DICK GRAYSON

✩ JASON TODD

✩ TIM DRAKE

✩ TERRY MCGINNIS

✩ TALON

[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.

[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-

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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.

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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