after being liberated from her bodily servitude to the high lord of autumn, iphigenia belrose takes refuge in the derelict spring court alongside her savior: the high lord of spring himself, tamlin. together, they claw their way towards their new beginning.
pairing: tamlin/iphigenia belrose (oc)
rating: explicit
word count: 7.5k/66k
a/n: avoidant attachment style vs anxious attachment style who y'all got ‼️‼️‼️ just a snippet for tunglr dot hell but find the full chapter on ao3 if ! ur nasty
chapter eleven: recursion
Everything seems to swirl. Steam curls up from the bath in languid, unhurried tendrils, thick in its clouding of the chambers, then it tumbles into the open-window morning in coiling billows. The surface of the water ripples concentrically, outer rings lapping against outer rings, their grooves fading in serpentine time. Even the tinkles to come from below emerge round and looping.
From within her fragrant haze, Iphigenia observes these things without seeing them. Her hair fans out from her shoulders where it has been submerged. Her nails glide along the smooth slopes of her limbs, just as they have for the better part of an hour. Circles and circles and circles.
She did not sleep. She could not. An endless loop: He hasn't had time for any of us. Not since… Not 'til you.
Each word teased apart and wound back together, over, over, over, hastened on by the reality of his tongue pressed to her—which happened and kept happening after. She felt him all through her sleepless night. He was in every shift of her sheets against her overwarm skin. He was in the tug at her nape as she turned to one side, then to the other. He was behind the close of her eyes; he was pressed between her thighs, and when she parted them, she could feel him there.
Still, she can feel him there.
Not since… Not 'til you.
Decades.
If it has not been since, and it has not been until, it would mean that decades have passed since last he knew a female. It would mean that in all that time he spent willful and withdrawn, she alone roused him. Not only his vigor—but his spirits, too. It would mean that despite his heart being unmoved, something else in him had been
By her.
Her touch drifts in the veiled heat, grazing low along her navel, and she shudders. The steam swirls. The water ripples.
It cannot mean what it seems to mean.
Yet something in her has stirred, and it will not permit her rest. She allows her fingers to descend lower, venturing past the slick slope of her abdomen and into the crook beside her entrance. The slip there changes. Richer. More ample. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth.
tag list: @rarephloxes @hybernian @themadmorrigan @the-darkestminds @queercontrarian @theknittingoracle (if u want on / off pls Imk !)
characters: azriel yladi, eris vanserra, vera crisedus
pairing: poly azris / azris x female oc
rating: explicit
word count: 3.7k
summary: azriel and vera realize eris is their mate, but eris has no idea this is possible. in a fit of frustration, he lashes out at vera and accuses her of making a cuckold of azriel. azriel has to fuck vera about it to reassure her. (naturally.)
a/n: i scrapped a 150k word fic so i have a bunch of out of context porn to share :•)
tag list: @buffy-vanserra @the-darkestminds @olenvasynyt @jules-writes-stories @g00seg1rl @mistandmemories @talibunny30 @mudandmire (if u want on / off pls lmk !)
Steam from the bath suspends itself thick and fragrant in the air, though the water has since drained away. The continued warmth is welcome on Azriel’s dewdropped skin for as long as he can have it, but with Vera waiting in their bedroom, he does not dally long. He snags a towel and pads, wet and dripping, into the adjoined room.
As she does when she has long been stewing on something, she says without preamble, “We should wait until after this is over to tell him, I think. I don’t want to overwhelm him again.”
Azriel nods his agreement in his approach, and Vera finally breaks away from the middle distance to look at him properly.
Her eyes track him while he towels off, following the swells and dips of his body just behind the cloth. She rises to take the towel from him and begins dabbing mindfully between his wings, at his lower back, where he cannot quite reach. Her fingertips brush against his skin, whisper-soft, lingering touches.
Nearly, he closes his eyes into them, but she pulls away before they become anything more.
“Come,” she says, throwing the towel to the bathing room and making for their bed, “let me oil your hands.”
Azriel follows after her as bidden, wanting for her hands on him, no matter where.
Vera situates herself in the center of their bed, made small by its grand expanse. A drop of silver in an endless ocean of blue bedding. Though the heat she seeks relief from is not on the air, she draws her hair into a knot atop her head.
Azriel does not bother with clothing before joining her, seeing little point when it would find itself on the floor before long. He reclines against the pillows and pulls her astride his lap. This rewards him first with the sight of her dress bunching up to expose her thighs, second with the feel of the insubstantial silk which is all that separates them. He twitches into the heat of the material, already soaked through, and she arches instinctively into him as he hardens against her—
—but she only plucks the oil from the side table and begins massaging dutifully at the scars of his left hand.
Azriel does not mind this. He is content for now to enjoy the feel of her atop his body and deep in his flesh. They remain quiet for a time, cocooned in the stillness of each other’s presence, bodies primed but patient.
Then, once Vera has moved to the right hand: “What are the rules?”
Azriel knows what it is she asks after. Still, he wants to hear it from her mouth. “The rules?”
Her skin, already bright with unsatiated desire, flushes a deeper shade when she looks away from their hands to finally meet his eyes. She says, “For before we tell him. For being intimate.”
Azriel skims his free palm up the bared thigh that was touched so readily this afternoon yet never to the extent she needed. His voice is low, rumbling when he strokes a thumb along the swell of her hip and asks, “You want him, Vera?”
But his mate stiffens in his asking, and her expression becomes one he does not ever want to see during bed play. “Do you not?”
Azriel is more sober when he replies, “I do.” Each word comes out precise and questioning.
Her fingers slow, slow, and, on a loosed sigh, they stop altogether. “I… did not know what cuckold meant until— I know it isn’t— I just—” She looks down again. “I do not want to disrespect you.”
Azriel waits. He waits until she ventures a glance back up at him, then switches their position so that he is braced atop her. There is nowhere for her to look but at him as he kisses the frown from her mouth, holding to her gaze all the while. He kisses her until she closes her own eyes into it. He kisses her until her body becomes pliant against his.
Vera blinks languidly up at him when he pulls back, her features arranged softer now, some measure of relief on them. He gathers her dress at her navel and slides an oiled hand across her abdomen, enjoying the hitches of her breath at the small touch before he delves right into the wet of her undergarments.
There is time and place for teasing, but this is not it. He felt the moment her arousal bloomed earlier, married by the fainter embers of Eris’s — knows she has been aching with it for at least an hour past, if not longer. Had he been aware then what true torment it had been for her to endure, he would have acted sooner.
Against her mouth, Azriel asks, “Do you want to hear how I want him?”
Vera presses instinctively against his palm, biting down on the inside of her lip to keep from moaning at the contact. “Azriel,” she shudders out, hoarse with want, tainted by shame.
He takes her wrists in his free hand and holds them above her head, shadows twining lovingly down her forearms. When he leans his mouth to her ear, her back arches, head atilt to offer better purchase.
“I want him as receptive as you always are for me,” Azriel whispers, earning a strained moan.
Unhurriedly, he swirls his fingers in the slick of her, circling against the tender flesh she urges him so impatiently towards. Even this eager for him, he feels her face turn towards the door, which means her mind is still far too preoccupied.
On cue: “What if he hears?”
“All the better. Maybe he’ll join.”
Just as he says it, he brings his touch to her clit, offering up his mouth to muffle the sounds she spills into it. His tending remains slow. He knows how near she is to release already, and he has worry to drive from her yet.
Azriel says, “I want to feel his tongue running along my cock. See how far he can take me down his throat.”
Vera coils tighter beneath him, the ends of her breaths pitching into whines that heavy each lungful of his own.
“He’s so stubborn, I think he might take the whole thing. Can’t you picture it?”
Her lips crash into his, and her grip is a delightful brutality upon his wrist. Despite the languor of his fingers, Azriel feels the presage of tightened muscles informing him of her climax, drawing closer.
Panting himself, he says, “I want you to watch while I fuck him.”
He watches her instead. Watches as her lips part, her brows pinch, her eyes flutter closed — Azriel, she prays to him. Azriel.
He nuzzles his nose against her temple, mouth warm honey at her ear: “Or would you prefer to watch him fuck me?”
Vera’s body constricts, leg curling about his, spine bowing forward, face burying itself into the crook of his neck. She stifles the cry of her release against his pulse point, and Azriel is less successful when the satisfaction of that rips a groan from him. He feels hot all over, as though the lazy heat of the bathroom has followed them out to play.
As Vera shudders through the waves of her orgasm, her tongue lapping sloppily at his throat, Azriel asks, “Do you feel cuckolded, my love?” He pulls back only enough to look down at her blissed face, her lips swollen with him. “Do you feel I’ve disrespected you?”
“No,” Vera sighs.
Azriel smiles at her mouth, running his tongue along her bottom lip in request granted without hesitation. He drinks in the sweet of her, slow and appreciative, keeping her focus here, on him.
To the tune of her unspoken protests, he removes his hand from her — but when she realizes he is only ridding her of her panties, she nods, guiding them the rest of the way down her legs herself. He feels her knees fall away from one another, knows she wants him to settle himself between her legs and push into her now. Instead, his fingers find her clit once more, and she bucks forth, startled, into his touch.
“Tell me how you want him,” Azriel instructs, devoting open-mouthed kisses to the corners of her lips, down along the line of her jaw. His shadows drift to his ear, whispering, murmuring.
After only a moment’s pause, Vera cuts through the noise of them. “I want his mouth on me. All over me.”
Azriel hums affirmations into her skin as she speaks, encouraging her with greater pressure on her clit. He ignores the ache throbbing through his cock, running him from root to crown. He allows it instead to be furthered by Vera blossoming now for him, emboldened by his encouragement.
“I want him between my legs until I’m dripp—ing down his face.”
She gasps when he replaces his fingers with his thumb, then curves them down and into her. She takes to the change ecstatically, hips rolling in time with the pace he sets.
“I want — oh, I want him to use me. How—ever he wants, whenever he wants. I want to feel him spilling down my thighs.”
They are both moaning freely now, as he brings her steadily to the precipice of her second climax.
“I want to be full of him,” Vera whimpers, tightening around his fingers. “Oh, Azriel, I want to be full of you both until I can’t remember — what it’s like — not to be — !”
She unravels on his hand and into his mouth. It takes every ounce of will within his body to keep from seeking relief against her as she does. Only after her throes have ceased does he flip their positions, keeping her steady with his hands on her waist as he drives his cock into her. These cries are easily muffled by lip and tongue and flesh, though they need not bother anymore.
“Do I feel disrespected to you?” Azriel groans.
“N—o,” Vera replies once she has adjusted to him. She rests her forehead against his, her hands cupped reverently at either side of his neck. Again, “No.”
“Because he is ours,” Azriel says, eyes locked to hers as he begins to guide their pleasure. Her pupils expand, irises ringing faintly with her power. His shadows spiral and twirl about them, a preening of their bond at this claiming. “Made for us. Chosen for us. You can’t disrespect me if he is mine, too. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
The words imbue themselves into the charge of the air around them, crackling into muscle, sparking into flesh. As tightly wound as Vera had been, Azriel is all the more so now — but he moves slow within her.
“Tell him,” Azriel says.
It takes Vera a moment to understand, a moment to feel the prickle of heat at her back, a moment to twist toward the doorway of their room and see what his shadows sought to warn him of: Eris, a lick of flame against the dark, clad only in a pair of linen sleep pants which do blessedly little to disguise his arousal.
Azriel surges up to press his front against Vera’s, drawing Eris’s regard in the motion and holding to it. At her ear, he urges, ”Tell him how you want him.” Before his own worry gets the better of him.
What Vera does instead thrills Azriel so greatly that he must still his hips or else risk spilling prematurely. Beyond words, she simply takes the hem of her dress and pulls it up over her head, letting it drip carelessly from her fingers and down to the floor. Then, she reaches out a hand towards Eris, beckoning him to join.
It is that simple.
Eris seeing Vera want for him even with Azriel’s cock inside of her makes everything simple for him, at least in the now.
He joins them on the bed as though in a trance, as though enthralled by the sight of them and unwilling to let it break. They both watch him in kind, breath bated, until he kneels behind Vera and lowers his mouth to the curve of her shoulder.
Vera shivers, a tremor that begins in her body and ends in Azriel’s. He thrusts into her, delighting in the way her mouth pops open on a gasp.
But then — but then Eris is pulling her back into his embrace, far enough that Azriel slips free. The swollen, shining length of him is bared abruptly to the chill of the air.
When Azriel opens his mouth, to protest, perhaps, or else to encourage, Eris cuts him off with, “You have had your fun.”
Eris lays Vera — low-lidded, starry-eyed Vera, who is looking up at him like the sun come to earth — down before him as one would lay out a feast on an altar. Her hair has tumbled free in the handling of her, spilling down over the edge of the mattress. She is all heavy breath and quiet moans as Eris frees his cock and nudges her legs wider with his knees.
“I believe it was me she wanted spilling down her thighs.” He takes hold of himself and strokes once, twice, lazy twists of his hand that belie the haste of the pulse at his neck. “Did I hear that right, Vera?”
Vera looks to Azriel, not quite asking permission but — that same bid for assurance that she needed earlier. He can read it on her face as if she has spoken the words: Is it still alright when it is real?
Azriel dips his chin, and Vera nods her head at Eris.
“Use your words,” Eris tuts. This ought to meet the ear as a command, but there is a softness to his intonation, one that he only ever reserves for Vera. It is nearly a plea, or as close as Eris can bring himself to one.
“I want you,” Vera says. “I have always wanted you.”
There is a moment where the words settle into Eris, where he must hear how they transcend their context and carry on them only the truth. For what may be the first time in his life, he has nothing to say by way of retort. He merely hooks her left leg onto his shoulder, one hand holding tight to her hip, the other positioning his cock at her entrance.
Just before Eris pushes into Vera, he stops and looks over to the arousal still heavy and unsated where it lay against Azriel’s thigh. He flicks his eyes up and says, “You may have her mouth.”
Vera moans, drawing her other leg to Eris’s shoulder and pushing off of him until her head hangs from the side of the bed. This brings a flush to Eris’s face, one which tips his ears and suffuses his chest. The color deepens when, unable to hold to restraint any longer, he finally takes his pleasure from Vera.
Azriel finds himself enraptured at once. It is one thing to look upon Vera as he unravels her beneath him, or as she does so herself. It is wholly other to witness her body bend and bow around Eris, to map the arch of her spine from this angle, to see the wet of her arousal gleam off another male’s cock.
To watch Eris drink her in with such blatant hunger.
And the sounds — they fill the room, echoing back and sending his shadows into a dance. Skin against skin, slick, obscene; the whines from Vera; the groans from Eris; the deep rumble at his own chest as he wraps his fist around his weeping cock.
Vera, from where her head still hangs from the bed: “Az—riel.”
He does not know how she knew to interrupt then, but he does not keep her any longer.
Her mouth is already open when he draws to a stand before her, her tongue flat and eager. He slides along it and into the waiting heat of her. She swallows him down with a long, drawn-out moan that rattles from his thighs up to his spine.
“Fuck,” Azriel hisses.
Vera mewls, a muffled, pleased sound. He cups the back of her head as he watches the bulge of him work down the slender column of her throat. Loath though he is to look away, he does — only to turn his attention to Eris, whose head has tipped back in rapture but whose eyes are fixed on the practiced ease with which Vera sucks him.
Slowly, Azriel pulls back, just to the breach of her throat, then pushes back in. Eris tracks this dutifully, his own hips driving forth at an unhurried pace. Azriel moves again, faster this time, dragging Eris along with him.
Vera lifts her hands to blindly urge at Azriel’s hips. She tugs him forth, encouraging him with her tongue, with the half-noises of her own delight. He moves as bidden, losing himself in the sensation of her, in the weight of Eris’s eyes on him like a physical touch.
He will not last much longer; he had already been overwrought with the knowledge of Eris hearing them from the hall, finding himself drawn in despite himself, then unable to leave when he heard himself as their fantasies. By the time Eris entered, Azriel had been ready to empty himself into his mate. Now, with Vera between them and Eris watching him lay claim to her mouth, he can already feel the tightening of his loins over again.
Azriel looks to the display of Vera’s body, to Eris fucking into her, to the length of her legs against Eris’s chest, both of them wreathed by shadow. Up further, and gazes tangle. Amber has been eclipsed by black, so intense, so uncomposed. His lips are parted now, wide enough that Azriel can picture exactly how they would look with his cock sliding between them.
Without warning, Azriel spills down Vera’s throat. He chokes out something, processing it only after it has been torn free from him: “Eris.”
Eris groans. Vera swallows around Azriel and makes much the same sound.
With far more care than he had shown in his thrusting towards the end, Azriel withdraws from Vera’s mouth and lowers to his knees. He strokes her hair back from her sweat-dappled forehead and kisses her face as she gasps in a breath, wiping away the wet of her mouth best he can.
Vera can hardly focus on him, though she tries. Her lashes are fluttering, and her lips are moving, but there is nothing intelligible to be gleaned there. He has seen his mate ravaged by pleasure enough to know how well Eris is servicing her; he doubts she even registered how difficult it had been to draw air, lost as she had been in the pair of them, as she continues to be now.
All the same, Azriel draws up beside her on the bed, shifting her just enough that her head can rest comfortably in his lap. He can feel the force of Eris pushing into her, pushing her into him. He rocks back against this habitually.
“Is this what you wanted, Vera?” Azriel asks softly, running his fingers through the drape of her hair. “For him to use you?”
Eris looks to her then, as though needing to know it again.
Vera turns her face towards Azriel’s hand, nodding into his palm when he opens it for her. He strokes his thumb along the high of her cheek.
“Show him how grateful you are, my love,” he tells her, catching Eris’s eyes in the saying. He speaks to either of them, to both of them: “Come for us.”
Some divine orchestration, they do. Vera bows forth like a branch in the wind, legs slipping down to the bed as she reaches for Eris. He collapses atop her with a cry, chasing her climax with his own. Both wind up beside Azriel, panting and breathless, their limbs tangled together carelessly.
Eris is too spent to pull away when Azriel cards his fingers through his hair. He allows this to happen a few times more, then he heaves his eyes open, looks to Vera, and slowly extricates himself. She groans at the loss of him atop and within.
From this vantage, Azriel can see the mess spill out onto Vera’s thigh as Eris moves aside. He is unsure why he does it. He has never had the inclination to before. Perhaps it is the thought of something coming from both of his mates that has not known him the same way; perhaps it is that he did not have a chance to taste Eris the way he wanted. He does not think much about it either way.
Azriel settles between Vera’s legs and laps the come from her skin, swallowing it down into his belly. He tongues into her to ensure none is missed, and she gasps, her hands finding his hair.
“Oh,” she sighs, finally coming back to herself.
When Azriel rises back up her body, she kisses him soundly on the mouth. She then turns her face to Eris, who is sat back on his hands beside them, staring as though he cannot quite believe what has happened. Again, she reaches for him, and again, he leans forth without protest.
Vera takes his mouth more gently. She holds his face close when she says, “I want you.” Then, “We want you.”
”Yes,” Eris replies, glancing to Azriel, “it would seem there is a conversation to be had.”
Vera hums out her agreement, but she is pulling Eris closer yet, until he has no choice but to settle beside them across the bed. “Later,” she murmurs. “Just stay with us, for now. Alright?”
Eris keeps quiet.
Vera looks to Azriel, but the assurance that settles her does not come from him. It is Eris who then drapes an arm across their bodies, offering the affection he is so often wary of. Vera smiles to herself, freed entirely of worry now that both of her mates lay sated alongside her.
Jason doing his best to revive you, his girlfriend, after suffering the same fate he did in the hands of the Joker. He couldn't and didn't accept that you were dead, so he goes back to the Lazarus Pit with Damian out favorite brat and brings you back to life- but give it an angsty ending <3 i fucking love angst even if it kills me. Also i went crazy for the bf jason when you're on your period, it was hilarious!
Come back to me
Main Masterlist
Word count: 815
Warnings: death, a bit of violence, angst, kinda happy ending??? its an ending I'll tell you that
A/N: Y'all I am SO sorry this took so long but I'm officially done school!! so hopefully i can get back into writing i have so many requests to get through. This is kinda rough and short as I'm still getting back into the swing of things but I hope you enjoy :)
Y/N!” his voice echoed across the room. He pulled at the chains with all his strength but it was no use. He stopped making threats long ago, knowing he couldn't reason with the clown but that didn't stop him from pleading with him to leave you alone.
Your broken body lay on the ground. The only sounds that left your lips now were whimpers of pain when the crowbar came down on you. You had stopped moving now, just laying there.
The sound of glass breaking halted his movements, from down the hallways there was the sound of gunfire and people crying out in pain. Joker dropped the crowbar on you once more.
“Well that's my cue to leave, see you around boy blunder.” He cackled as he ran out of the building.
The door burst open but Jason was only focused on your twitching body laying on the ground.
“Todd?” Damian's voice came out small as he looked upon the scene in front of him, “what happened?”
“Get over here and untie me, we gotta help her.”
As soon as he was freed, he ran over to you. You were covered in blood and dirt. He tried his best to wipe it from your face as silent tears streamed down his face. He held your limp body in his arms, shaking you slightly, “come on baby, please open your eyes.” He sniffed, “you gotta open your eyes, come on, I need you to wake up.”
Your eyes fluttered open to see his tear stained face. “Jay?” your voice was barely above a whisper.
He smiled down at you, smoothing your hair from your face. “You're gonna be ok, ok? I got demon here he's gonna help out, you don't need to talk.”
You stopped him. “Jay listen, you gotta remember,” you paused to cough, blood trickling from your lips, “you gotta remember to feed Winnie on time and -”
He cut you off. “You can't say any of this cause you're still gonna be here to bug me about it, I know it.”
“Be nice to your brothers and don't be an idiot, ask for help when you need it.”
“Please don’t do this.” he pleaded, his voice breaking.
You reached up to touch his cheek. Blue eyes looking into yours, filled with so much love and worry. “I’ll see you around lover boy.” Your eyes fluttered shut for the last time.
“No no no, please no, Y/N you can't do this to me!” sobs wracked his body as he tried to get you to open your eyes once again. “Please,” he whispered, pressing kisses into your hair, “I love you.”
He looked up to see Damian wiping tears that escaped from his mask, “There has to be something we can do,” he turned around to face Damian, “the pit.”
“Todd we can’t, she's gone.”
“She can’t be gone!” he slammed his fist on the ground, “she can’t be gone, because I was gone and the pit brought me back. If it worked for me it'll work for her too.”
“But think about what you went through do you really want her to-”
Jason cut him off, “if you won’t help me, get out of my way.”
They stared at each other for a beat before Damian nodded slowly. “I'll help.”
The air was hot and dry as they stumbled into the cave. The green glow of the pit illuminated the area as they reached the edge of it. Jason set you down at the edge of the pit, green smoke curling around your body as he cradled you in his arms.
“Todd, are you prepared for what's about to happen?”
“I'm gonna do whatever it takes to bring her back, I can't lose her.” he said, caressing your face.
“Then let's go.”
He slowly lowered you into the pit, both boys watching as you slowly sunk into the green liquid, the pit bubbling around your body as it slowly enveloped you. The cave was silent, both boys holding their breath as you went under.
Fear coursed through Jason's veins, what if you came back but weren't the same, or what if you hated him for bringing you back. Shut up he told the voice in his head she'll be fine, if I can do it so can she. The longer you stayed under the more doubts started to come into his mind. What if she-
His thoughts broke off as you burst through the surface. Your hair dripping wet, chest heaving for air, but most importantly, you were alive. Him and Damian rushed over to help you out.
Coughing and weezing you looked up at your saviour, he brushed the hair out of your face as he smiled down at you. But the happy moment came to an abrupt end when you opened your mouth.
hi hi hi i LOOOOOVE your erik stuff and i hope u don’t mind me requesting and requesting because i think you’re an amazing writer! i was hoping to see a erik x female reader fluff:) i’ve always wanted to read a jealous erik fic when he has a crush on the reader ya know! i’ve always pictured her to be a mutant professor at school and all:)
Exceptional
Request: By malfoys-demigod
Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x Fem Reader
Prompt: hi hi hi I LOOOOOVE your Erik stuff and I hope u don’t mind me requesting and requesting because I think you’re an amazing writer! I was hoping to see an Erik x female reader fluff:) I’ve always wanted to read a jealous Erik fic when he has a crush on the reader ya know! I’ve always pictured her to be a mutant professor at school and all:)
Warnings: Is jealousy really a warning? IDK but jealousy
Author’s Note: I won’t mind you requesting lol, I love getting requests 😊 Thank you so much for enjoying my writing 💖 Again, I am so sorry for how long this took for me to write 😬
Erik always prided himself on how well he was able to control his feelings. Sure, he used to let them control him; however, he always hid them well. One look at him, and no one could tell how he was truly feeling. The only people able to read his feelings were empaths, or Charles (but Charles used his telepathy, so that was cheating).
When Erik had met (Y/N), he wasn’t sure what to expect. At first, he thought of her as any other person, irrelevant. He didn’t know her, so why should he care for her? But then she was always there. He later found out that Charles had employed her at his school for the gifted. It was with a great obligation that made him get to know her. Charles liked to hold dinner parties for the staff and his friends to mingle outside of school hours. Erik would always try to get out of it, but, he always manages to get roped into those engagements no matter what he said or lied about. It was as though Charles would use his powers to get Erik to attend. It tempted him to use his helmet again to block him out, but maybe he’s just overthinking it.
It was at one of these events that Erik first spoke to (Y/N). She was standing near the refreshments, so really, it wasn’t like it was completely out of his way to talk to her. She had smiled kindly at him, the first person to do so. It was no secret that he had a troubled past and many of the professors employed under Charles never seemed to let him forget. So it was refreshing to know that someone wasn’t holding his faults over him. He was immediately enthralled by her. They spoke nearly the whole night. He found himself enjoying the sound of her laugh and the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about the things she was passionate about. Erik never believed in love at first sight, and really he didn’t think this applied either, but he knew from that moment on, he would make it his duty to keep the smile in her eyes and that laugh in place.
From then on, Erik didn’t argue with Charles over attending the dinner parties, and he didn’t bother making excuses when (Y/N) needed his help with her class. Whatever she wanted, he made sure she would get without any troubles. They soon became best friends within no time. He was fine with that too because then he knew he would always be in her life. He was the one she went to when she had a problem, and the one she went to when she had good news. Life was suddenly going his way and he had no fucking clue what to do from there. He supposed he could continue like normal, talk to her, laugh with her, but there was a part of him that wanted more. She was an amazing girl. Who wouldn’t want to be with her?
Which was the problem. He knew there were people interested in her, he wasn’t completely oblivious. He would usually spot them from the distance whenever he wasn’t with her. There would be another professor talking to her, trying to get her to laugh at some stupid joke he made. Erik would clench his jaw, and he swore one of the metal benches was crushed near him. He couldn’t be too sure that was him though. He brushed it off at the time as a fluke. There was no way she’d fall for that cheap trick. So the next day when it happened again, Erik couldn’t help but insert himself between (Y/N) and the other guy.
(Y/N) instantly lit up in his presence. Erik was a great guy and anyone who didn’t see that was an absolute idiot. Getting to know Erik was her favorite thing to do. Being a part of the school gave her insight into his past, sure, but that didn’t mean she knew who Erik actually was. If growing up in a half mutant, half-human family taught her anything, it was that people can change. She found out that her mother was taught to hate mutants but then she met her father. So no, (Y/N) wasn’t going to let Erik’s past block her judgment. Erik turned out to be the most genuine man she has had the pleasure to meet. Sometimes he would show off his powers to her, so she would talk him into demonstrating for her classes. She always looked forward to the days he would help her with the younger mutants.
Sometimes she could swear that Erik might like her back, but who was she kidding? She wasn’t anything spectacular. Her powers weren’t anything extraordinary compared to her co-workers, her powers were rather boring. (Y/N) used to enjoy the fact that her powers were quite mundane, she could easily manipulate a person’s choice, but it would only last a moment. Now she wished she had a power that was worthy of Erik. She knew he had a hatred towards humans at one point, so she was nervous that maybe he would be appalled about her half-human family.
(Y/N)’s thoughts were once again interrupted when she felt someone touching her arm. She looked up to see Professor Cassidy smiling at her. He had a boyish charm to him and she knew that he liked her, but she didn’t feel the same way. She was finding it harder to let him down gently.
“So? What do you say?” He asked nervously.
“Uh, about?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows.
“A date? With me?” Sean ran his hand through his hair nervously. This was not turning out how he imagined. For one, Erik wasn’t there glaring at him when he imagined asking (Y/N) on a date.
“I…” (Y/N) glanced from Erik’s stone expression and back to Sean’s nervous smile, “I uh, I have plans, I’m sorry Sean.” (Y/N) lied, “Erik promised to help me with uh, a thing,” She winced internally at her crappy excuse.
Erik smirked, happy to hear her turn Sean down. Sure, Sean wasn’t a bad guy, but he’d be damned if he started dating (Y/N). She was too good for him, She was too good for anyone.
“Oh, uh, okay, no worries,” Sean looked back at Erik one last time before leaving the two mutants alone.
“So I’m helping you with a thing?” Erik asked smugly.
“Oh shut up, I panicked, okay?” (Y/N) bumped her shoulder against his side, “He’s a nice guy, but I only think of him as a friend.”
“Ouch, even that hurts me,” he laughed despite his words.
“Hmm, so what brings you by?” (Y/N) wondered.
“What do you mean?” Erik avoided her gaze.
“I think you know,” She raised her brow, she was tempted to ‘persuade’ him to tell her the truth, but Charles made a rule not to use their powers against anyone’s will unless absolutely necessary.
“Nothing, I just saw you over here and thought I’d say hello,” He shrugged.
“Okay… now that you’ve said hello, what now?” (Y/N) leaned against the wall beside her.
“Maybe we could do a thing?” Erik smiled.
“Haha, very funny,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes. She may have liked Erik but she didn’t appreciate being teased.
“I’m serious,” Erik lifted her chin so their eyes could meet, “Let’s do something together.”
(Y/N) stared into his eyes, looking for any hints of insincerity, “Like what?”
Erik shrugged, “anything you’d like.”
“As friends?”
“Well I- I was hoping maybe as more than friends?” Erik cleared his throat. He hasn’t felt this nervous in… ever. He has never felt nervous like this before.
“Okay,” (Y/N) grinned, “But don’t tell Sean just yet.”
Erik’s eyes narrowed, “Why not?”
“I just turned him down, I don’t think he’d be too pleased to hear that I’ve agreed to go out with you,” (Y/N) tucked a strand of her (H/C) behind her ear.
“So?” Erik couldn’t help but scoff.
(Y/N) tilted her head, looking at him quizically. “You were jealous,” She laughed.
“What? No, I wasn’t! I was the opposite of jealous. Why would I be-” Erik looked at the amusement clearly written in her eyes, “Don’t tell anyone.” He begged.
“Only if you don’t say anything to Sean, at least not yet.” (Y/N) bribed.
Erik sighed heavily, “Fine.”
“Awe, such a romantic,” (Y/N) laughed. She kissed Erik’s cheek softly, “Now about that thing we’ll be doing?”
Erik’s heart fluttered in his chest. This was all new to him, but as long as (Y/N) was by his side, he would do whatever he could to keep her happy. It was also nice knowing no other guy would be able to take her out on a date now that she agreed to be with him.
Narusaku and for the prompt, sakura accidentally catches naruto changing and he gets flustered. She flirts
Opening the door to Naruto's room, Sakura glances down at her clipboard seeing as she's in urgent need of seeing the blond, "Hey, Naruto, have you noticed how--" she then looks up and sees how very half-naked Naruto is, this makes a sly smirk appear on her features."Sakura, notice what," Naruto asks, clearly not noticing how she's currently looking at him. The smirk turns into a huge grin and she replies, "--noticed how ripped and hot you are, Naruto," she then winks and the blond in turn suddenly feels a major confidence boost and flexes his muscles, which in turn causes a little bit of blood to spill from Sakura's nose.
why is it that literally every time i write gryles, no matter how long or short the fic, harry ends up crying like lmao @ me be careful your sad gay boy aesthetic is showing
warnings: brother/sister incest, religious imagery, blasphemy, blood, breeding kink, sex near a corpse
summary: lucrezia is made naked and clean and bloodless again—and his.
a/n: baby’s first borgiacest 🙂↕️ cuz it’s 15 years later and s3 leaving off where it did is still a fucking CRIME. just a leetle snippet for tunglr but you can find the full thing on ao3 if ! ur nasty
tag list: @hybernian @the-darkestminds
Spilled blood stains the soul.
Buried amongst a gravebed of it, Lucrezia is overturned from the corpse of her husband to stare blankly up towards God. His silence descended some time ago, a condemnation of unbreathing lungs, an abjection of unpulsing veins. As she suffocates under the weight, the cherubs stillborn into the dried paint of her ceiling look beatifically down on her. She cannot see Father beyond them, nor Son, nor Spirit. Only this divine farce of heaven stretched thin above her.
Countless men have been struck dead by her affections and her contempt alike. Slaughtered, every one, by the sanguineous curse of her nativity: the unseen hands of fate and vengeance and tragedy, constant companions reaching out from her kin. Each life spattered itself on the hems of her fine skirts and soaked deep into her silken slippers as bone-burdens to bear and heart-griefs to nurture, yet there had been no need of confession in the after, no need of atonement.
Quietus is the birthright of a Borgia, and everyone knows it so.
But this death, snarling lamb on her shepherding hand—this death is different from the rest. She knew it with the final, stuttered chestfall. There is not repentance enough to absolve her of this mortal sin. She is sentenced to be bereft of His presence, for ever.
Without expectation, she says unto His silence: “I will never wash this blood away."
“Then I must," comes the reply, and Lucrezia stares not up towards God but into Cesare.
Her brother is here now, and he will take care of her. His hands are on her skin, cupping her face, grazing her throat. He lifts a sodden rag to her cheek, pink through with the water-thin wine of her husband’s blood. Though the muslin scrapes against her skin, she is insensate.
"You will be naked," he murmurs, his words fluttering her lashes shut, "and clean and bloodless again."
If only, she thinks. If only.
Low and graveled against her ear: "And mine."
On her temple, his dipped mouth feels like deliverance. Like green kisses practiced on a familiar mouth and shared giggles amongst the rolling grass. Like his body above her and below her and with her in spirit.
Then it is gone, and all goes quiet again.
Emptily, the cherubs smile.
Lucrezia shudders. "I want it," she breathes, shallow, "more than anything."
warnings: referenced sexual slavery, referenced sexual abuse, internalized misogyny, externalized misogyny
summary: after being liberated from her bodily servitude to the high lord of autumn, iphigenia belrose takes refuge in the derelict spring court alongside her savior: the high lord of spring himself, tamlin. together, they claw their way towards their new beginning.
a/n: endless gratitude and love for my pals @buffy-vanserra and @jon-snows-man-bun for beta reading + cred to @olenvasynyt for the divs<3 just a snippet for tung|r dot hell but you can find the full chapter on ao3 if ! ur nasty
tag list: @rarephloxes @hybernian @themadmorrigan @the-darkestminds @queercontrarian @theknittingoracle (if u want on / off pls Imk ! )
chapter seven: adaptation
Echo from afar, the difference makes its return as Iphigenia descends the staircase. It winks up from jostling toolbelts and glimmers in thrown reflections: wake up, wake up, wake up.
But the harder she tries to place it, the more illusive it becomes.
A word, just beyond the curl of tongue. A memory, lost long to time. A face, obscured by a mask.
As she nears a sturdy pair of oaken doors, she foregoes her efforts. Presence looms as tangible as absence beyond them. The instant she thinks it so, a breeze flutters heedlessly past her to fling them open.
Lord Tamlin sits at a small, covered dining table with his back to a streaming wall of glass.
Iphigenia dips low in curtsy. His regard holds long beneath his brow—lingers, such that she lifts her own from her obeisance and glimpses green in climbing trail up her silhouette. At the crest, his gaze clings unguarded to hers.
Then it gnarls over, and the whole room falls dim.
Lord Tamlin lifts his hand in simple gesture to the seat across from him.
Iphigenia takes it without delay.
As she settles, she notes that the table has already been set: an arrangement of tea, a platter of scones, and two steaming dishes. Not his hearty stew, but an elegant plating of rabbit. Atop her crispened hindquarter, laid like apology, rests a familiar sprig of thyme. It wafts still fragrant with her magic.
She attempts to see its meaning differently.
Reminder. Warning. Threat.
But this is Spring.
Not Autumn.
Its truth avails itself to her simple and intact: this lord is not only unlike hers.
Lord Tamlin is nothing as her lord was.
In its settling, it recolors all things. To understand this court, she cannot think solely in terms of difference. She cannot look out through the bruised tint of the High Lord, casting shadow and capturing shine where none exists to be found; she cannot seek to make scavenged shards of truth fit her preconceptions. Just as all things changed for her when she was taken to the Forest House, so must she accept that all things have changed for her here.
