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ovaryacted · 5 months ago

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GUILTY AS SIN || I. INTACTUM

─ General Marcus Acacius x fem! virgin! reader || WC: 11.1k

SYNOPSIS: Being the daughter of a Senator of Rome has it's pros and cons, you lived comfortably while constantly being reminded of your insubordinate position in society. However, upon meeting General Acacius, your life changes as you begin to grow fond of him. The question is, will he reciprocate your feelings, or cast you out to suffer your impending doom of unwanted courtship?

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUTTY. Girthy age gap assumed [Acacius is canon age/reader is around very early 20s]. Explicit Language. Formal dialogue. Mentions of patriarchal norms & customs. Comments on prostitution. Food and alcohol consumption. Talks of virginity & sexual experience. Yearning & longing. Mutual pining. Budding relationship. Unintentional/intentional courting. Kissing. Thigh Riding. Praise Kink. Terms of endearment (dove, little dove). Reader has hair & wears dresses & jewlery. Marcus Acacius is a romantic & respects women. Not entirely historically accurate.

➣ Note: Reader's Father’s Name - Julianus Novius Lurio. Handmaiden name - Viria.

A/N: I truly did not mean to make this first part so long but it just happened, and I hope all of the work put into it is worth it cause I love this story lmao. Thank you so much to @pedgito for holding my hand and feeding into my delusions about the General, I am always grateful for your creative genius. Anyways, reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST | AO3

Rome shone as bright as a star in the night sky, her streets bustling with the sounds of trade and the footfalls of soldiers patrolling the great city’s stone roads. The rooftops were tinted with shades of gold, her wealth and opulence evident through every brick and weed of grass that touched the very ground of her sacred body. There is and will only be one Rome, and you were one of the lucky few to live and experience it in all of its glory.

You were blessed by the Gods to experience all of Rome’s treasures, bathing in the luxuries of fresh fruit and the finest silks. The gifts you’ve been given were all thanks to your father Julianus Novius Lurio, a sitting politician on the Roman Senate who has made a living by managing the exchanges of commerce throughout the city. No doubt a man of power, your father had made a name for himself amongst the other senators, growing close ties with several leaders and particularly, the generals of the Roman army. Of course, that included the formidable General Marcus Acacius, whom he requested to discuss what he called “business matters.”

Answering the politician’s call, the General stepped foot into the quaint domus on the Palatine Hill, a bit ways off from the Emperor’s palace, silently admiring the granite floors and chiseled columns. He may not enjoy engaging with men of politics, but he can’t deny the gaudy and expensive taste laid out before him.

“General Acacius! Welcome, I have been expecting you.” The general was met with a man draped in bright blue and white linen cloth, the purple latus clavus accessorized his toga and held it together.

“You called for me, Senator Lurio?”

“Yes. I meant to speak with you regarding the current expansions into the regional provinces. I hear you were successful in the conquest?” Acacius eyed the politician with a straight face, dull in comparison to the excitement of the man before him.

“The residents surrendered their land freely and faced minimal bloodshed. We expect an influx of a few hundred soldiers to the army under my discretion.”

“A shame that you did not partake in bloodshed. I am sure you understand Rome’s hunger for it.” It was as if the man craved the innermost details of what took place on the battlefield, every gruesome mention of the lives lost and the meticulous ways the General pillaged through entire villages. It disgusted him, but he swallowed down the feeling and maintained a neutral expression as he’s trained himself to do.

“I do. I was under the impression we would discuss the wages for the new expansion, per the Emperor’s request, I assume.” It was an attempt to shift to the real reason he came here, not wanting to prolong his stay more than needed.

“Ah, yes, the wages. Come, we shall review in my study.”

General Acacius stepped further into Lurio’s home, past the columned hallways with his additional guards following along. As his broad figure strolled by the atrium, he turned to a clearing in the center of the Domus, eyes capturing the fountain before landing on another figure.

You were situated on the edge of the fountain in the middle of the clearing, tossing pieces of watermelon and blueberries to the koi fish that swam below you. The sun reflected over the water as you were bent on the side, casting a radiant glow over your silhouette. The fabric of your lilac stola draped over your body like an ocean’s tide, small jeweled earrings adorning your ears, and your hair pinned to the side, falling over your shoulder in riveting curls.

Lifting your head to spot the man walking into your home, you held his gaze as he continued to wander past you. Your curious eyes bore holes into his dark brown ones, captivated by the faint sparkle in his irises for a mere second before he focused his attention ahead of him. Your watch remained on the width of the General’s back as he trekked away from you, taking in the last bits of his figure before the doors of your father’s study closed down the hall.

“Something troubles you, my lady?” The voice of your handmaiden snapped you out of your slight daze, shifting to meet her warm and familiar gaze.

“No, Viria, nothing of the sort.” You reassured her, shaking off the buzz you gained from meeting another man’s glances so intensely.

Who was that man?

General Marcus Acacius, you’ve soon come to learn, had become a familiar face within the walls of your home. Once every few days, his chiseled face would grace your halls again, taking the same pathway to your father’s study, and the wooden doors would keep him locked away and out of sight. You would follow his path without fail, and as you expected, his head would turn to meet your waiting eyes, usually sitting by the atrium or walking to one of the other rooms nearby.

At one instance, you could’ve sworn you caught the ends of his lips flexing when he caught you in your usual spot, his glare wavering longer after every visit. Your heart beat faster whenever you saw him nearby, admiring the gray streaks in his curly hair and his aquiline nose. You grew more inquisitive of the General, primarily knowing him by name and nothing else that would suggest a level of acquaintanceship.

Your father refused to say anything about the General or his political affairs beyond what you already knew or could figure out. Politics are no place for a young woman, much less war. You keep your nose out of it and maintain your role in the home. You could practically hear your father’s voice rattling in your mind, forcefully reminding you of your minuscule existence in his life. A man who should be guiding you through the tumultuous times of your youth instead gave his heavy hand where it belonged, keeping you sheltered from anything that doesn’t revolve around being the daughter of a man who craved power and influence.

Unfortunately for you, part of that reminder was based on keeping up appearances whenever your father was called to partake in grand celebrations after a successful campaign overseas. Being born into a wealthy household with a prestigious name has granted you material goods not easily attainable for others, a compromise to the lack of emotional security you were given as an indirect result of losing your mother during childbirth. Your father regarded you with a face of resentment and a mouth full of venom for most of your life, the fluctuating presence of housemaids to care for you were the only individuals who held you with a loving touch. Viria, your personal housemaiden who was a decade older than you, has been a constant part of your life once you reached the age of 10, offering the guidance and support one should receive from a maternal figure. Though as you continue to age into early adulthood, you now see her more as the older sibling you never had.

Of course, your father’s disdain towards you was brushed off when your arm wrapped around his and your hand clutched his bicep as you walked alongside him in the banquet hall. Another successful conquest, more territory was added to the empire, and sufficient blood was shed to satisfy the Emperors enough to throw a feast in celebration. Like many of Rome’s subjects, you had a duty to fulfill, dressing in your finest garments and wearing your best jewelry to emphasize your status.

Walking through the crowds of men who were too similar to your father, you managed to get by with faint smiles and cautious waves. You played your part well, speaking only when spoken to, and letting your father control the conversations he brought you into, a sad opportunity for his colleagues to take their chances at asking for your hand.

“I have a son traveling in Athens who is in need of a wife. Your daughter has surpassed the necessary age and remains unmarried, no?”

“I have been preoccupied with work as of late to think about marriage for my daughter. Though, if there is an offer on the table, I will consider it.” Your father didn’t bother to look at you as he toyed with the idea of how much your virtue was worth.

“You best hurry if you want an offer from a suitor at all, or maybe she would be a better fit for the bathhouses.” Your father booms into a laugh at the recommendation while you bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood, masking it with a cordial grin.

You endured the distasteful jests from your father’s circle of colleagues, holding your tongue and swallowing the bile that threatened to eject from your mouth. The more stares that were thrown your way blatantly picking you apart, the more you wished you had stayed home, away from the reminders that you were nothing but a placeholder until you met your doomed fate of becoming someone’s concubine or plaything.

Having lost your appetite some time ago, you sneaked away from your father’s grasp once he was pulled by his associates, immersed in the generous cups of wine and the touches of the young “entertainers.” You held your glass close to your body as you walked out searching for a clearing far from the noise, desperate for fresh air.

Thankfully, you found a balcony on the backside of the banquet, relatively empty and quiet. The music drowned out behind you as you inhaled some air, exhaling the rest with your eyes closed before opening them again. Looking at the view in front of you, the neighboring lights gleamed brightly in the night as the common folk turned into their quaint homes beyond the hill. You didn’t know how long you spent staring off into the distance until someone interrupted your moment of peace.

“Not fond of the festivities?”

You turned to the sound of a gruff voice, eyes slightly widening to spot none other than the General himself, not too far from where you currently stood. As expected, he wore his signature white and gold celebratory armor, reserved for special occasions when he returned to Rome victorious. You couldn’t help but notice the golden cuffs wrapped around his thick wrists, glowing in the dark of the night, paired with the ring on his finger that carried his insignia.

“General Acacius. Had I known you were here, I would have brought my father to speak with you.” Ah yes, you were being friendly, as you had to be when you were in a public setting like this, unaccompanied at that.

“I believe I have spoken with him plenty. On the other hand, you always lingered in the background during my visits.” The mention of him noticing you brought the familiar quiver you’d get once your eyes met. Humming in response, you replied with a nod.

“Not one to discuss politics. Father keeps me out of it, says there is no place for women in that realm.” Taking a sip of your wine, you focus again on Acacius, giving him your undivided attention as his position demands. “Do you usually hide away from banquets in celebration of your conquests?”

That comment brought a slight grin to the General’s aged face, the skin beside his eyes creased as the corner of his lips curled. He covered it by taking a sip from his goblet, holding the glass with one large hand, fingers splayed over the edge of it.

“I do not care much for these feasts. This is all for show, so I have come to learn.”

“Yet your name is the one people chant in the streets. Is that all for show as well?”

At that notion, he peeked at your face, met with genuine curiosity rather than what he anticipated to be ungrateful criticism. He took a minute to think of his reply, reading your expression as genuine compared to the obedience he expected from the average commoner.

“No, the people have the right to celebrate however they please. After all, they are safe within these walls, they can be as extravagant as they see fit. To honor and memorialize, it is what we fight for.” He shifts to lean forward on the balcony’s edge, placing his arms on the marble railing and looking off to the outskirts of the hill. “The people are unaware of what lies beyond the gates. If drinking wine and feasting for one night is the result of pillaging across the region, then that is what must be done.”

You observed him as he spoke, watching the flex of his jaw with every word that came from his plush lips. Trailing your eyes upward, you saw the pink scar along the apple of his cheek, beginning to fade and mesh into his sun-kissed skin. You silently wondered how many more marks littered his body, how many more stories he had etched into the limbs that carried him across the region to collect more.

“Do you enjoy it?” Your inquiry caused the General to raise an eyebrow in your direction.

“Enjoy what?”

“Being the General, having power, having the army at your disposal. Do you enjoy it?”

Another considerate question from you. You wouldn’t be able to tell if he admired your ability to hold a conversation or if you were beginning to irk his nerves by being too probing. Acacius had a choice: he could end the conversation and be off on his way to return to the banquet or feed into the novelty of his psyche. He chose the latter, inhaling a breath of air before releasing it in a sigh.

“Truthfully, I am not sure. Being a General and a soldier, this is who I am, this is what I know. It is what was destined for me to become.” He took another second to collect his thoughts, sipping his wine again and shifting his attention towards you. “And do you enjoy being the daughter of a politician?”

Having your question reiterated back to you threw you off. You moved your focus from Acacius to the liquid in your goblet, swirling it around and watching the ripples unfold as you pressed your back to the railing’s edge.

“It is a complex feeling, and I cannot take the blessings bestowed upon me for granted. But this,” you waved your hand around to signal towards the banquet where the festivities continued, “these events, I do not enjoy. It may be my duty to make appearances, and perhaps this role I have been given was also destined for me, but I do not enjoy it any less.”

“So that is why you dwell from a distance?” Glancing at Acacius from the corner of your eye, you were met with equal interest.

“It is what I know, what I am meant to do. Observe and watch from afar as my father finances the empire’s wars.”

You had to choose your words carefully, being this outspoken about your father in front of a man associated with him, the General nonetheless, could bear severe consequences. He could have your tongue cut out for speaking out of turn, strip you of your title, and send you to fend for yourself on the streets. Instead, he offered sympathy and understanding. A man of his ranking had no business showing you kindness, much less consideration, but Acacius awed you.

“Duty. A blessing and a curse in disguise. It gives us something to live for and takes just as much.” You must’ve been quiet for too long when Acacius straightened himself to look at you, standing at full height to hover over you.

“Do not fret, you will keep your tongue. I hold no ill will outside of understanding, and your father will not know what we discuss here.” Blinking a few times, you finally remembered words, shaking off your shock and returning to the present.

“Thank you, General. I am appreciative of your words and consideration.” He tilted his head towards you in acknowledgement before he mimicked your prior action, swirling what remained of his drink.

“I do wonder…if you had a choice, what would duty be for you?”

“I did not strike you as a man of hypotheticals.” He grins again.

“I am not, but we have the capacity to fantasize. Indulge me this once, your answer in exchange for mine.” Pausing to think just as he did at the beginning of this encounter, it embarrassed you to admit the truth, but one look at the man and you couldn’t resist confessing what occupied your imagination.

“If I had the ability to choose, I would be away from here, from Rome. I wonder what life is like beyond this city, what the sea smells like, what you see during your travels, even in the name of war. I do not wish to stay bound to politics and what it brings.” Your explanation secured a satisfied hum from Acacius, as honest as you could be you stood true in your reply.

“And now, what is your answer?” He hesitates a second before he speaks.

“I wish to strip myself of my armor in favor of some land, somewhere far away by the coast, where I could fish and trade for goods. A simple and quiet life, a fulfilling one different from what’s been given to me.” The idea of this man beside you exchanging his sword and honor for the life of the standard fisherman amused you, not being able to visualize it yourself. You knew better than to find it outright ridiculous, rather, it was noble.

“Perhaps in another lifetime, you would be a fisherman, and I a traveler. Our paths can cross momentarily, and we will go on our merry way as strangers.” The thought brought a genuine smile to Acacius’ face, both ends of his lips coiling up followed by a deep chuckle, much to your enjoyment.

“In another lifetime.”

You both drank to that, Acacius finishing his glass while yours remained half full. Enjoying the next few beats in silence, you didn’t mind sharing the space with the man you’ve taken a sudden liking to, knowing deep down this was the last thing you should be doing. All too soon, the moment is broken by Acacius’ voice.

“I must return to the banquet, but you have made this night more interesting than expected.” Inside you felt accomplished at something, proving yourself to be worthy beyond being invisible.

“Likewise, General.”

Much to your surprise, his hand reached for yours, daintily holding it between his fingers. You could feel the texture of his digits, years of sword wielding painted rough indents up the length of his palm. Bringing your hand to his lips, he bestows a soft kiss over your knuckles, his mustache brushing your skin before pulling away. You counted the extra second he held your grasp with an affectionate squeeze to remember you by, capturing the small smile he sported that tugged at your heart.

“Do not linger for long.”

As soon as his words left him, Acacius slipped away and walked back into the hall to meet with others who were waiting to speak with him. You looked towards the entryway much more than you should have, staying outside to enjoy the fresh air a little longer before returning to the suffocating feast in search of your father, inebriated from the drinking and stuffed full of the food that was provided.

The whole way back home, your hand tingled from when the General held it in his, pulse spiking at the thought. It worsened as you found yourself restless in bed, mind reliving the moment Acacius reached for you. You were sure he was simply being kind to you, but for the moment, you would like to dream of the hypotheticals that vexed your mind in the wee hours of the night.

It had been a few weeks since you spotted Acacius nearby, the conversation and time you both shared the night of the banquet was still on your mind. There were moments where you’d anxiously wander about in your home, finding something to do to keep yourself occupied rather than thinking about the next time the General would make an appearance. Thankfully, your father hadn’t taken any notice of your recent fidgeting, too engrossed with the current politics in the Roman Senate to offer any respite to your growing concern.

Thankfully, you were able to step outside and enjoy some time away from the stuffy walls of your bedroom. With your handmaiden Viria in tow, you drew your palla over your head and made your way to a busier area of the city meant to bargain for goods you deemed necessary to have. Despite your father being a rather cruel and controlling man, he allowed you to invest in things in the home when he didn’t have the time to care about it.

At least in that regard, you were fulfilling your duty as the lady in the home.

Viria remained closeby to keep you company, conversing as you made your way on horseback first before walking the rest of the way. You didn’t mind taking the long way, enjoying the scenery of shrubbery and the other homes you rode by until the roads turned to dirt and sand as you reached other communities of people.

The markets had been busy at the start of today, walking down the main road to select a few stalls and speaking to the merchants you recognized. There were several things on your mental checklist to buy, fruits grown and distributed to other households, fresh spices for Viria to give to the servants for the next meal along with cuts of meat that can be cured and stored for later.

Your favorite stand was of an older lady who sold a variety of fabrics, some you loved to use to make a combination of stolas and pallas. Of course, most of your outfits will go to waste from constantly staying at home, but that doesn't mean you can't wear more than one standard dress. Running your fingers through the different colored fabrics, you came across varying types: wool, linen, silk, all of different textures and some with distinct patterns.

A roll of light green silk fabric caught your eye, asking the woman for the price and deciding if it’s something worth bargaining for. Just as you were about to reach into your pouch for some golden denarii, another arm came from behind you, providing the denarius coins and dropping them in the palm of the dealer who marveled at none other than the General.

“You can add on a brooch if you would like, consider it a gift.” Acacius said calmly, the sound of his voice gracing your ears grabbed your attention in an instant.

“General Acacius, strange to find you here of all places. Should you not be elsewhere?” While you questioned him, you didn’t notice the way Viria glanced at the two of you as she wrapped up the green fabric to bring back home.

“I returned from another assignment the previous night. Figured I would do a patrol by the market to see if I had missed anything during my travels.”

“And does covering another citizen’s purchases count as one of your assignments?” Your cheeky response almost broke the facade of the serious and feared General, but instead he held his ground and concealed the smirk that threatened to make an appearance.

“When I have the time, yes. Though most people are not as quick to counter my generosity.” His face may not have shown that he was explicitly joking with you, but you could tell from his tone of voice he was being sarcastic. “Do you mind if I accompany you on your errands?”

You gave him a do-over, as if to test whether or not to take him seriously, met with sincerity. You peeked over to Viria, who practically shooed you towards the General’s direction, encouraging you to say yes. Eyes landing on Acacius again, you nodded, taking a step ahead while he stayed near, keeping his hands to himself as Viria walked behind.

“Do you usually come to this part of the city? I would think the house servants preferred to purchase what is needed for the home.” Marcus commented, wondering what were the conditions that permitted you to venture off this far from home in the first place with just your housemaiden.

“I enjoy coming here, it is a nice change of pace when the other option is staying confined to my home full of boredom.” You stated, heading towards another stand to look at a cluster of grapes, paying for it with one hand and placing it in your basket.

“And yet you are unaccompanied.”

“Viria is enough. I enjoy her company.” You haven’t looked at him since he began walking next to you, holding the basket of goods to your front.

“That is not what I meant. Surely your father must be concerned for your safety.” His face angled towards you to see your eyebrows furrowing at the thought in defiance.

“You would be surprised to know I do not need additional chaperones to roam the city I was born in. I can handle myself.” Your rebuttal didn’t seem to please Acacius, a bubble of concern inhabiting his mind, but he refused to act out on it and pushed the idea to the side.

“I do not doubt you know how to conduct yourself when needed. Though, Rome has become dangerous for those that stick out. Your pretty garments and jewelry are a magnet for thieves.”

Did he think the way you dressed was sensible? Pretty even?

You ignored the small thought, continuing on your walk with the General standing tall. Some of the shoppers in the vicinity kept their nosey eyes on you, some women muttering disengaging gossip under the palms that covered their mouths. The thought that there was possible conversation involving you and the General in any capacity unnerved you, but there was no point in acknowledging something so miniscule.

“I will manage, as I always do.” You stopped by one last stall, an array of fresh flowers catching your eye.

Offering the seller a courteous smile, you looked over the selection before you. Roses, violets, dahlias, lilies, and several others. The General watched from behind you, how intently you touched the stems of each flower as if they were made of porcelain. You picked up a variety in your hand to make a small bouquet for yourself, passing it to the merchant to wrap in ribbon. Exchanging the neat bundle of flowers for some coin, you placed it in your basket, keeping in mind to tell one of your servants to drop them in a vase with fresh water.

“My lady, we must return.” Viria reminded behind you, just as one of Acacius’ soldiers whispered something in his ear, probably informing him that someone else called for him.

“I must go. Perhaps I will see you again when you visit my father, General.” You said, taking two steps from Acacius before he answered.

“Yes, perhaps. But if you would like to discuss other matters more privately…I may have a suggestion.” Turning on your heel, your eyebrow rose in confusion, seeking clarification from him. “There is a clearing not far from here, a garden of sorts. It is quiet, away from prying eyes. I wish to speak to you more and tell you of my travels when I am here.”

The thought of being with Acacius was one thing, even if it was fleeting, but being alone with him for a certain period of time brought a shiver over your back that you tried your best to disregard. You held your composure and was selective with your words despite the way your chest tightened at the offer.

“Then I am not opposed to meeting again when we are both able to.” Your confirmation was the thing that cracked Marcus’ facade, his lips twitching into a smirk only you would be able to see.

“I will look forward to our next meeting.”

The General returned to his stoic persona and sauntered out of the market with his guards, leaving you and Viria behind as you made your way to your horses. Your housemaiden didn’t say anything on the ride back home, and you made sure to erase the small smile on your face before you walked through the front doors.

The next time you get to see the General is at this clearing he mentioned you to go to, somewhere that was familiar to Viria, an isolated garden she used to go to as a child before she was brought into your home by your father. She comes along to bring you to the location, stepping over a cobblestone road and small bumps in the ground before you find yourself at the center of lush greenery.

The landscape had changed over the years you were certain of it, thick vines crawling up the brick walls that provided a sense of privacy, hiding you from the outside world. You were surrounded by overgrown shrubbery, pockets of wildflowers growing rampant through the ground, vibrant in color and varying in shape. On one side, a forgotten fountain now victim to moss and algae dominated a corner, lily pads floating over the surface. A thick tree off to one side overcasted shade on a marble bench, roots gripping the base and embedded into the faded stone.

“I see you have found your way.” Acacius’ voice made you abruptly turn to face him, dressed in his usual armor, the golden gorgon head staring back at you. “Forgive me, I would have preferred to change into something less…formal.”

“No harm done, General. I do not mind.” You twirl your thumb, staring to the ground to avert his gaze. “Viria guided me here, says she used to come here as a child so she knew the route.” He hums.

“That was kind of her. And have you been here before?” You shook your head, looking around your surroundings to take in the view.

“Never managed to venture too far from home, this little area is new to me. But I must say, it is quite beautiful, reminds me of a small sanctuary.”

“Yes, exactly that.” Acacius takes a step forward, now closer to where you stood. “When I was younger, I would come here when I needed time to think or a moment in solitude. I still visit from time to time when I can, but commanding the Roman army can be quite demanding.”

“And here I thought it was the easiest thing for you to do, having strong and brute men at your disposal.” Sarcasm dripped from your tongue as the General chuckled, his usual upright posture more relaxed.

“It might seem easy when you are not the one responsible for 5,000 lives fighting in the name of the empire every day, but I guarantee you it is quite the opposite.” As he spoke, you pondered about his intentions of bringing you here, considering that the other two instances you spoke with him were surface level at best.

“Why did you bring me here, General? I am sure you are needed in other parts of the city, not in this isolated place with the daughter of a senator.”

“Well, to put it simply, I enjoy conversing with you,” he stood in front of you, holding your gaze as he towered over you. “You have an honest way of thinking and you speak without restraint in front of me, something I have yet to encounter with others. It is refreshing.”

“Oh, so this is because I do not bend at the knee in your presence the way most do?” Your quick wit still took Acacius off guard at times, never having met a woman who was able to bite back so quickly, even in a joking manner.

“It could be, or I simply find you interesting enough to speak with outside of my obligations, ours.” Your eyes met as you analyzed each other, peering into the chocolate brown orbs that mirrored you in your study. “What do you say?”

Some light conversation couldn’t hurt, right?

“As long as you keep your word to remain interesting, then I do not see why I would deny you, General Acacius.”

It quickly became a routine to meet Acacius here when you were both in the city at the same time, whether it be him coming from patrols, training his soldiers, or meeting with politicians and the Emperors, he still found a way to meet you at this little place you’ve made your own. Initially, it started with icebreakers and familiarizing how to talk to someone of polarizing status, and later eased into learning more about each other while your father remained oblivious of your actions.

The General was a man of stories, frequently retelling his travels and the things he’s seen during his campaigns. He spares you of the details of violence that haunt him in his sleep, and you refrain from asking, more interested in everything else he has to tell you. He talks about his homeland, the things he remembers living in a smaller village with his mother before he trained to join the army, climbing up the ranks to reach his current position. The meals he likes to eat, his favorite scents and colors of fabric, all things meshed into this budding friendship as you come to learn more about Acacius and less about the renowned General of Rome.

When it came to him learning about you, well there were things you enjoyed talking about and things that you’d prefer to keep secret.

Your face brightened with enthusiasm when you spoke about the things you’ve read in the books found in your father’s study, describing the different regions under Rome’s dominion and the territories the empire wished to control. You had a newfound curiosity with other cultures and languages, mostly asking the man next to you of things he may or may not know, answering with fable tales from his memory and battle songs carried on through generations. Anything about your father or the topic of courting made you uneasy, so Acacius refrained from asking about the tense relationship with your paternal figure. Within the time you’ve spent together he knows enough to understand it’s a sensitive topic, and he would prefer to avoid upsetting you in any way.

On the rare occasion the General wasn’t able to meet you, he’d leave a note behind on the bench for you to find, offering words of reassurance and a promise that he will return when he can, bringing more stories of his findings and keeping you in the back of his mind. The lines between you began to blur when the conversations turned into more unscripted, intimate memories and jokes between you in this bubble you’ve created for yourselves away from the controlling eyes of your father and the rest of Rome.

He’s made you laugh on more than one occasion, slapping away at his chest as he witnessed the way you threw your head back. You realized you enjoyed toying with the General, always ready for a smart comeback to every rebuttal he gave you. He liked the way you had a mind of your own, not easily swayed by the customs that frequently plagued the women of Rome into subordination. At least in the comfort of Acacius, he let you speak your mind freely, without scrutiny or judgement, and you appreciated the fact he granted you that in more ways than can be said.

“When do you leave?” You asked Acacius once, leaning against him as you both sat on the marble bench, basking in the sun that slipped through the tree’s coverage above you.

“In three days. It should be a quick venture, something the Emperors requested of me to do before they make plans of a larger conquest.” He felt you sigh at his words, tilting his head to rest against yours, cradling you with his weight. “You do not need to worry, I will return in one piece.”

“I know, I just hate when you have to go.” You admitted to him, as you have a few times now over the course of building this relationship between you. It was friendly at most, and having him as your confidant is what you valued.

“I do not enjoy leaving any less, believe me. I would much rather stay here a while longer with you, dove.” The sound of the nickname he’s given you brought a smile to your face, something that came when he mentioned how you carried yourself like a dove but had the personality of a hawk with how observant you were. It made you laugh then, not bothering to correct him, and now the name stuck to you like the clothes you wore.

“Will you bring me something from your travels?” You asked, twisting to look at him with a mischievous glint to your eye. “You forgot to do that the last time you left.”

“Yes, I did come empty handed, how inconsiderate of me.” A chuckle came from you at his tease, rolling your eyes at him. “I will find something to bring you if I can.”

“Good, I should be expecting a new trinket to add to the collection.” He grinned, shaking his head in disbelief at how easy it was to just talk to you about anything under the sun. His large hand reached for yours, moving his thumb over your fingers. It was a comfort thing he liked doing, and you never minded when he did it. Frankly, you didn’t want him to stop.

Just as quickly as the moment started, it had to come to an end. Viria came by to interrupt the two of you, signaling that it was time to leave before your father came back from his meetings.

“My lady, it is time.” Your housemaiden declared, pivoting to let you enjoy the last few minutes you had with Acacius. He stood up when you did, following your lead and dropping his hold on your hand, much to your disappointment.

“I wish you safe travels, and will pray to the Gods for your return.” Your fingers touched the metal brooch holding his tunic together, straightening the material out before he had to return to the real world.

“I am always appreciative of your kindness. Until next time, dove.” He brings your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss over your knuckles and looking at you as he did so, the touch stirring you more than it should. He did the honors of pulling part of your palla over your head, letting you part from him to leave the small garden, making your way back home much to your dismay.

“The General fancies you, my lady.” You heard Viria declare when you were alone, still making your way to the domus.

“No need to be ridiculous, it is merely friendship.” You weren’t in the mood to entertain the idea, and she could only smirk at your attempt to deflect.

“A man like him speaking to you in a secluded area is not friendly, my lady. If he wished, he would do it in the public eye, but I understand that he cannot given his position.” Viria concluded, declining to answer or refute against that. You didn’t think much of what she said anyway, though it kept you wide awake until the next morning.

The next few days, you knew Acacius was gone, but you still went over to the garden for some peace and quiet with Viria following one of your market trips. When you arrived, you were surprised to find another one of Acacius’ notes with a red rose securing the letter to the marble bench. Picking up the flower’s stem, you delicately touched the rose’s petals, sniffing it to take in its scent. The smile on your face was soft as it was expected, chest warm at his thoughtfulness to leave this behind while he was out on assignment.

You thought back to what Viria told you a few days ago, and in the safety of your mind, you’d like to think she was right.

As he promised, Acacius returned to Rome unscathed on his recent trip, visiting your father the day following his arrival. You stood by the hall to congratulate him on his success, courteous as you always were and maintaining the facade of politeness. It was satisfactory for your father, glad that you had enough sense to show General Acacius your gratitude for keeping us safe. He brushed off Senator Lurio’s slick comment, saying his thanks and walking into your father’s study as he’s done so many times before. The next day, you met him at your usual spot, being handed a seashell he brought back while he was away.

Found this on the coast, I snuck it under my armor plate and kept it safe until I could give it to you. The sight was beautiful, it reminded me of you while I was away.

You sat happily with him as he told you everything that happened on his travels, holding the new seashell with one hand and the other in his, letting him clasp his fingers over yours in his lap as you both leaned against the tree in the garden. You listened to every word he had to give, ignoring the rapid beating of your heart and the butterflies in your stomach at the sight of him.

The Gods must have punished you with the growing affection you felt towards the General. Yet, you knew better than anybody that there was no reality where that bond would work beyond what you had. Concealing your inner turmoil and swallowing your pride, you wished Acacius a good day and night of peaceful rest once Viria came to say your time was up, not knowing when you’d see him again so consistently.

Night fell over Rome, an ease blanketing the rest of the city as everyone turned in for the evening. Already bathed with your skin clean and moisturized by your favorite oils, you adorned a long sleeve silk nightgown, the purple material pooling at your feet, wishing the house servants a good night and giving Viria a kiss on her cheek. You enjoyed the silence of the domus without the anxieties of your father being home, having left the city for a few days to meet with other politicians. You walked around the halls barefooted and stopped by the atrium to sit on the edge of the fountain. Dipping your fingers to touch a lily pad, you followed a singular koi fish that swam away from you, mindlessly thrumming along the water. A shadow appeared in front of you, lifting your head to spot Acacius standing across from you, dressed in a black cloak.

“General?” you called out to him in a whisper, standing to meet him face to face. “What are you doing here? How did you manage to enter without being seen?”

“I found an opening from behind and avoided the guards up front. Do you not consider me tactful?” He replied, removing the hood from his head to show his face. Without another word, you took his hand and brought him to your bedroom, closing the doors behind him and silently praying nobody saw him come in.

“There is no need for you to be here, General. It is quite late.” You muttered to him, stepping back to glance at him once again. You noticed he was wearing his casual clothes, a simple white tunic paired with some sandals, the fabric cutting off right at his thick thighs.

“Maybe so, or I simply wanted to see you again before I turned to my bed.”

“And here you come to disturb me as I am about to turn into mine.” There was a lilt to your voice as you spoke to him, a cheekiness that was only reserved to when he inhabited your space. He’s grown to like that about you, how you saw him simply as a man and not just his status alone. It was refreshing in ways he couldn’t explain, and the gravitational pull he felt towards you grew stronger as the days passed.

“You can tell me to leave if that is what you wish. I am merely seeking more of your companionship.” You wished he would clarify what kind of companionship he was looking for. If it were any different, you’d suggest the brothel or the bathhouses, where his needs could be better met with a woman of experience compared to a novice of the real world.

“You have already come all this way, might as well stay for a while.” Shrugging at the suggestion, you walked to your vanity to finish your routine, when really you were trying to find something to do other than gawk at him.

“I see your father has yet to return from his trip.” Marcus stated, moving to sit on the edge of your bed to face your back. “He is still occupied with his affairs?”

“He mentioned something about seeking more council further out from the Republic. For when he arrives, I am not sure.” Speaking casually, you brushed through your hair as it cascaded over the sides of your face, not realizing how Acacius was staring at your reflection.

“Something troubles you, dove.” It was a statement more than a question, acting like the voice of reason and so level headed when you weren’t.

“It is nothing.”

“Tell me anyway. I am here to listen.” Your eyes met on the mirror of your vanity, the chocolate brown irises that captivated you from the beginning holding your gaze. With a sigh, you paused your brushing, messing with the bristles of the hairbrush and looking downward.

“I wonder what it is like to get the things I want and desire. You men can do everything. Can choose where to go, who to see, you dictate when the sun sets and the moon rises. I am nothing like my father, and yet my whole life must be dictated by him and him alone. I resent it, I resent him.”

Acacius remained quiet as he offered a listening ear. He knows plenty of how your reality affects you, how you feel like you’re nothing more than a bird in a cage, growing restless at wanting to be free, to live the life you deserve. Sadly, it wasn’t that easy, you knew it wouldn’t be.

“You have wants and desires, many of them that you should get. Despite the man being your father, he should not be the one to strip you of your ability to find enjoyment in living, to want more.”

“And it is far from simple,” you exasperated, now standing from your vanity and turning to face him, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to self soothe. “Does my happiness truly mean so little to my father that he is willing to sell it for the right price?”

In an instant, Acacius stood up and took hold of your hands, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles to provide some comfort from your thoughts. You blinked at the sudden movement, not rejecting it, but not expecting it either.

“Your happiness and comfort should matter to any man you share company with. Those who do not prioritize you are cowards who should not have the privilege of being called men at all.” He couldn’t stop himself as he began to speak, looking right into your eyes as he did.

“I do not believe there are men who desire such company from me.” Another shrug, another deflection. Out of his own volition, one of his hands rose to pull away a singular coil of hair framing your face, curling it behind your ear.

“Any man who does not desire you is blind. I believe they do not deserve the eyes given to them if they act on such idiocy.” You chuckled a bit at that, half believing him and half thinking he was being ridiculous, but you weren’t one to object. The sound brought the smallest of smiles to his face, taking your reaction as a win.

He didn’t mean for his hand to flex open and have your cheek fall into his palm. He didn’t mean to have you press your skin into his when he softly caressed your cheekbone. He didn’t mean to stare at you long enough to grab your attention, his large hand cupping the side of your jaw to keep your face at an angle, heart thumping in his ribcage at the mere suggestion of following through on what he was thinking.

How did you two get this close? When did his eyes begin to wander all over your features, retaining every curve and angle into his memory? When did he start to crave more than just a conversation with you? When did the looks of curiosity you originally gave him shift to desire?

The both of you were acting out of turn, trailing your sight from the scar on the bridge of his nose and down to his plush lips before moving back up as if you were asking a silent question. You didn’t know what was going through his head, how long you two had been standing there a hair away from being chest to chest. You didn’t know when your face tilted upwards the slightest bit, or when Acacius leaned in an inch to reciprocate your action.

A gasp hitched in your throat when his lips finally met yours.

He kissed you with a softness you would’ve never expected from a man capable of so much violence, his lips skimming yours for a few seconds as they meshed into perfect puzzle pieces. Closing your eyes to savor it as much as you could, Marcus drew away from you, hand still holding your cheek as he left your mouth tingling for more.

A beat passed by, trying to catch your breath as your hands creeped up to his chest, petting along the linen of his tunic. Your breaths tangled into one, foreheads close enough to hover as Marcus loomed over you. The pulse you felt the moment your first kiss was gifted to you was nothing like what you expected. Sure, you’ve read about these things, heard the rumors when eavesdropping in some casual conversations when walking through groups of people, but you’d never think such intense feelings existed.

“Acacius…” your breathless voice broke the silence between you as the world stood still. It was the first time you had addressed him by name alone, no longer holding the usual formalities you preserved with him.

“I…that was improper of me. I apologize.” His words confused you, creasing your eyebrows as you remained in place.

“Why are you apologizing? Did you…did you not enjoy it?” Gods. It killed him to make you think he didn’t want to give you any attention when he’s been fighting off the urge to touch you for weeks now.

“I did enjoy it, more than I should have. But, you are still…it was wrong of me to do that when you are not mine to have.” You knew what he meant, you were still considered “pure”, “untouched”, meant to save yourself for the stranger you were intended to be courted with. At this moment, you could care less about a future partner you haven’t met, a man you knew didn’t deserve all of you.

But a man like Acacius, you think he was the exception.

“Do it again.” Your body spoke for you before you gained a lick of sense, clutching at his chest and tempting him closer. “Kiss me again, Acacius.”

How could he deny you when you begged for him so sweetly?

Grabbing hold of your face in his hands, he craned his neck to meet your lips, kissing you more intently now that you allowed him to. Your eyes fluttered closed at the contact, leaning into Acacius completely and holding on to his shoulders to ground yourself. The feel of one thick arm wrapping around your waist sent a shiver down your spine, the silk material of your nightgown adding to the new sensations that flooded your body for the first time. He angled his head to the side, kissing you deeper at a slow pace while one of your hands shifted to rake through the graying curls at the nape of his neck.

The low grumble of a groan slipping from Acacius’ chest shot warmth right to your gut, your knees almost buckling at the feel of his strong body pressed against yours. Pulling from him for air, your mouth was swollen from the kissing with every pass of his lips. You craved more, more of what he was making you feel, of what you didn’t fully understand.

You didn’t give Marcus a second to recuperate when you lunged to kiss him again with more fervor, a bit clumsily until he met you with equal enthusiasm. He refused to hold back now, holding you tighter by the waist and deliberately pressing you to his broad body. A heavy hand went up to cradle the back of your head, thick fingers seizing your scalp and running through the brushed out curls while the other held you by the tailbone. You couldn’t help but release a content sigh when his tongue traced your lower lip, relaxing your jaw to grant him entry, curling the wet muscle around your own.

The hand resting on the width of your spine sneaked lower to curve into your backside, pinching the fabric of your nightgown. Instinctively, you arched into the touch, antsy digits seeking somewhere proper to touch. His hair, his neck, his jaw, the shawl thrown over his shoulders—you didn't know what to do with your hands or where to put them.

You’ve never wanted someone so badly.

The passion intensified between you the more handsy you both got, your breathing labored and your small whines were swallowed by Acacius as he dominated your mouth. You’d lost track of time, the frequent shifting dragged you backwards until you bumped into your vanity. The sound of your beauty products rattling across the wooden surface forced you to draw your head back from Acacius’ generous mouth, breathing through your nose and sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

When the General looked at your face again, he could feel the warmth radiating from your cheeks, your lungs expanding for air to calm your erratic heart. Your lips were plump with a slight redness, pupils blown from the experience with the slightest inkling that lust began to override your brain.

You were at a loss of words, not knowing what would be the best way to describe what you just felt. The general had stolen your breath, and possibly more, not like you were complaining. Acacius was quiet, stuck in thought as he breathed in and out, his exhales falling over your lips. You tried to lean in again for more of him when he kept your face in place, the tip of his nose nudging yours.

“To the bed, little dove.” He uttered, more of an order than anything else. The intensity of the heat pooling in your gut elevated, something deep within you beginning to ache from the way he added another twist to the term of endearment he’d given you.

Blinking once then twice, your brain regained functioning as you drifted from Acacius’ arms and walked to your bed, sitting down on the edge and waiting for his next command. However, now that the high you felt from kissing the man before you changed into anxiety, your naivety seeped out of you in waves.

“Acacius I…I have never…” you struggled to tell him that despite the promiscuous lies your father projected onto you. You didn’t need to say much for him to understand your inner dilemma.

“It is alright.” His voice calmed you as he kneeled in front of you, taking your hands in his larger ones, giving a gentle squeeze. “How much do you know of coupling?”

“Besides the crude things men ruminate about with who they engage with, the basics. I know what goes in what.” It sounded idiotic coming from your mouth, not being able to state the obvious, to discuss sex in the literal terms as you understood them.

“You have never been touched before?” He asked you, not patronizing in his tone, but seeking to give a solution, receiving a shake of your head in response. “And when you are alone, you never think to do anything?”

“No. I never found a reason to…” You shook your head again and looked down to where he sandwiched your hands between his, a sense of shame tinting at your cheeks.

“Would you like for me to teach you what pleasure feels like?” His proposition caused your eyebrows to raise, a foreign throb between your thighs growing as your imagination played tricks on you. The General wanted to please you, to show you the things so many Roman citizens indulge themselves in doing.

“This is for you to learn, and for you to experience something new. And…if you allowed me to, I could grant you that experience.” He took one of your hands out of his grasp, kissing the inside of your palm and then your wrist, your pulse spiking under his touch. “The choice is yours.”

It wasn’t every day that you saw a respected General of Rome on his knees willing to grant you the first taste of something you were told was forbidden. With the way he looked at you, so candid and reverently, it wasn’t a hard decision for you to make.

“Yes. Show me, please.”

Placing one last kiss on the inside of your wrist, he stood up to his full height and pulled you up as you looked at him in a daze. He switched your positions to where he was the one sitting on the edge of the bed, thighs spreading to make space for you. When he peeked over at you again, he held out his hands to take yours, guiding you towards him.

“Come, sit on my lap, over my thigh.”

The order made you quiver, clumsily maneuvering to hover over one of his thick thighs. You held on to his shoulders to steady yourself while his hands came to yank the length of your nightgown, giving you more room to work with. He held your hips once you were in the right position, bringing you closer until your chests were together.

He suppressed the groan rumbling inside when he realized you were bare underneath your slip. Soft and warm skin met the thick muscle of his leg, your breath shuddered at the change in texture.

“You will grind over my thigh and move your hips to shift back and forth. I want you to do what feels right, what feels good. I am only here to guide you, but this is for you. Do you understand?”

You nodded at him, your anxious hands having a mind of their own and reaching for his neck, stroking along the sides of skin. Your thumb grazed the new scar on the column of his throat, leaning forward to kiss it apologetically. He threw his head back a bit at the feel of it, exhaling comfortingly while his hands flexed at your hips. Repeating the pattern to leave a path of kisses from the side of his neck to the corner of his jaw and then his chin, colliding your lips with his again and arching into his hold as his fingers ran lines down your spine.

Your hips were moving on their own accord, shifting backwards before dragging them forward, building a slow tempo and rhythm as you got used to the new sensations. Focusing on undulating your hips over Acacius’ thigh, he kept you present with every kiss he graciously landed over your lips and face. Something inside you clenched when you hit the right angle, breath hitching on the impact of something sensitive grinding over the firm muscle of the General’s leg underneath you.

“That’s it little dove, you are doing so good for me. Take your pleasure, chase it, let the feeling consume you.” Acacius whispered into your ear, the lower octave of his deep voice making a beeline straight to your core where your body craved more. A weighted palm steadied you on the small of your back, keeping you from falling over.

Encouraged by his praise, you arched your back more, gyrating against him with more force. A whimper poured out of you, heat cresting in your gut at the change of pace, your arousal staining Acacius’ thigh. He mimicked your earlier action, littering soft kisses across your jaw and neck, fighting the possessive urge to leave his mark across your skin. Keeping one hand on your waist, the other moved upwards to your ribs, gently fondling one of your breasts through the silk that veiled you from his hungry eyes.

“Acacius,” your eyebrows furrowed, something building deep inside you, body growing tense as pleasure curled around your belly. You were almost panting, eyes fluttering shut as something unknown threatened to come out, a moan stumbling from your kiss bruised lips.

“Trust your body and keep moving, allow it to wash over you. So close to release, sweet girl, let it happen. I have you.” His broad hand palmed your breast, thumb stroking your nipple that poked through your dress.

Stuck in a haze, pressure built between your legs, a whine punching through you as you swiveled harder over Acacius’ thigh. Clawing at his chest, it took you a few more drives before you moaned out loudly, jerking over his leg as your body trembled. Heat like no other coursed through your limbs, an electric current rushing from the top of your head to the balls of your feet, toes curling from the intensity of it. The General coaxed you through your first climax, ogling your expression with hazy eyes, taking in every light cry you gave him followed by the words of praise he whispered beside your temple.

Good girl. Ride the tide, ride it for me. That’s it.

You slumped against Acacius when your release was finished and you’ve gained some footing, buzzing at the calming touch of his hands caressing your back and shoulders.

“Did you enjoy that, little dove?” He held your face with one palm, an act of fondness you’ve grown to love and crave.

“That was…divine.” You were slightly jittery as you replied, raising your head to look at the General with dilated pupils, amazed that this was what had been deprived of you for so long. “Is it always like this?”

“It can be, depending on what is done, but your enjoyment is what matters most.”

Your cheeks blistered at the realization of wet skin below you, slight embarrassment at marking the General’s leg with your arousal. Out of your own cognizance, your focus moved to find something stiff under Acacius’ tunic, the tips of your ears burning and bashfully looking at him.

Oh.

You’ve heard of the rumors, of the way some men boast about their appendages as if it were the Gods’ greatest blessing, or how some of the street women speak about their personal experiences in the bedroom with more endowed partners. Being able to see or feel something like this up close was unfathomable. Fingers gripped your chin, keeping your face aligned with the aged man that just opened the doors to a new world for you.

“Pay no mind to that, it will go away. I do not wish to overwhelm you so quickly. We will save this for next time.”

Next time.

Goosebumps raked over your arms at the thought of doing this again, or doing more, and by the look the General passed your way, he was more than happy to continue whatever this became. Gently maneuvering you to rest on your bed fully, Acacius walked to the wash basin on the other side of your room and dipped some cloth into the warm water, cleaning his thigh of your remaining slick. You didn’t have the heart to state your disappointment, but he passed you the cloth to cleanse yourself before flinging it back to the bowl, leaving you to head back to bed.

“Will you stay?” You called out to him, eyes pleading for more of his attention, body yearning for more of his touch. “I do not wish for you to leave.”

He knew he should leave, he shouldn’t have snuck into your home at this late hour in the first place, but you had been plaguing him ever since he saw you by the atrium dressed in lilac and opals.

“I will stay for the time being, but only to hold you.” You didn’t protest against that, taking whatever you could get.

Throwing the sheets off to make room, you lugged him into bed with you, claiming the space next to him as a bulky arm hooked around your waist, bringing you closer. You hummed contently against his sternum, nuzzling your face into his body, chasing his warmth and scent.

“Thank you, Acacius.” He didn’t say anything in response, kissing the top of your head in silence.

“Rest now, dove.”

With that, your eyes shut close and you were eased into slumber, the best night of rest you’ve had in a long time. As you traveled through the land of dreams, you imagined several things, strong hands running over your bare body in ways they shouldn’t, tantalizing words whispered in your ear that makes you drip between your thighs, and someone else bringing you to heights so great you would be standing amongst the Gods themselves. In every frame you conjured up, the General’s face was who you saw, marking you with his mouth and claiming you as his. You wanted to stay here for as long as you could, living through your fantasy for all eternity.

By the time the sun rose high in the sky, you found your bed empty, disillusionment evident on your face as you touched the pillow beside you, cool to the touch.

Acacius was gone, and despite the way you could still feel the ghost of his touch, last night had been all but a dream.

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hazelfoureyes · 1 year ago

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A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,��Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

༻Masterlist༺

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reasonsforhope · 3 months ago

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"As 3D-printing methods continue to evolve, it’s not uncommon to see this method employed for various engineering projects, especially in the construction of affordable housing, structures, and schools.

In Ireland, a first-of-its-kind social housing project has been built from the ground up, using 3D printing as a time and money-saving solution.

In fact, it’s Europe’s first 3D-printed social housing project, fully compliant with international standards. In Grange Close, Dundalk, the three-unit terraced build is now a milestone achievement in eastern Ireland. It was created by Harcourt Technologies Ltd (HTL.tech) and assembled using COBOD’s BOD2 3D construction printer.

The unit is 3,550 square feet and is divided into three separate homes, each measuring 1,184 square feet.

The use of this technology allowed for a 35% faster construction process, which took 132 days from start to finish. During that time, the 3D-printed superstructure itself was completed in just 12 printing days.

Conventional construction methods usually require more than 200 days, according to COBOD, meaning this method could be transformative in quickly scaling affordable housing options.

“Ireland’s housing crisis, driven by a decade of under-construction and rising demand, has reached critical levels, leading to widespread protests and influencing national elections,” HTL.tech shared in a press release.

“The rapid construction made possible by 3D printing offers a promising solution. The homes in Dundalk demonstrate how this technology can address housing shortages by dramatically reducing construction time and costs.”

In the 132 days it took to go from initial site preparation to handing over keys to the client, builders say approximately half of the time savings came directly from 3D printing.

Additionally, during the project, COBOD upgraded the concrete hose of its printer, which increased its output by 40% and significantly increased the printing speed. With this upgrade, the company estimates that printing times for similar structures would be reduced to nine days instead of 12.

“We continue to improve our technology,” Henrik Lund-Nielsen, general manager and founder of COBOD International, said in a statement, “and although a hose update can be seen as a small step, the numbers from HTL.tech proves that it is not.”

Now, the client — a local housing council — will finish furnishing the homes and will rent them to social housing tenants at an affordable price.

It’s a success that will surely have ripple effects.

“As the first 3D-printed social housing project in Europe, the Grange Close development sets a precedent for future housing solutions,” a press release from HTL.tech explained. “With countries like Sweden and Germany also experimenting with 3D-printed homes, this technology is poised to become a standard approach for addressing housing shortages.”

The statement also added that governments across Europe may increasingly adopt 3D printing to “deliver faster, more cost-effective housing solutions for low-income residents.”

“This project not only showcases the potential for rapid, sustainable construction but also serves as a blueprint for other nations facing similar challenges,” the statement concluded. “As 3D printing technology evolves, its role in shaping the future of housing construction looks increasingly promising.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, January 23, 2025

‍

#ireland #europe #housing #housing shortage #affordable housing #housing crisis #3d printing #architecture #good news #hope

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lizardho · 3 months ago

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Life Lesson from a Mormon Mission

I was called to "serve" in the Mexico, Mexico City North mission. It was a weird and unpleasant experience, overall, but I did have some takeaways from it that I appreciate still. One of them, the biggest one, arguably, was learning how to deal with bureaucratic red tape.

I was called to serve in an area near Huehuetoca, in a small farming neighborhood I'll call X. The neighborhood was a farming-and-construction community, and the ward was DEAD. 30 people still attending, and all of them were unpleasant. They had come by the unpleasantness honest - this was a community stricken with poverty and impoverished and overwhelmed people turn to vice. Ward members had secret sins that were eating at them, and they turned their shame into vicious criticism of others. Over a 5-year period the ward had gone from about 100 people to 80 to 60 to 40 to 30.

As missionaries, we were tasked with baptizing and converting new members; however, the area we were in was small and REALLY aversive to Mormons. The last companionship to spend time in the area had gotten into a yelling match with some Catholics and had insulted the chastity of the Virgin Mary of Guadalupe. As a result, they had been chased out of town by an armed mob of farmers, and the reputation of the church in that area had been irreparably tarnished to many who lived there.

As a result of this distrust between church members and other people in the area, it was a very underperforming area. My companion and I had been sent X because it was a "punishment area" where ineffective elders could be sent to allow better elders to focus their efforts in the areas getting results. I had been sent there for deliberate disobedience to mission rules - we were not permitted to be in the homes of single women alone, and I and my previous companion had blatantly ignored that rule to help some of the elderly widows in our area replace lightbulbs and repair appliances in their living spaces. This made me a liability, and I was sent to X. My companion in X was sent there because he was terminally shy - possessed by an eldritch, unknowable shame that prevented him from talking to others (honestly, it was probably autism).

We were troubled by a series of problems - ward leadership were stretched thin, ward members kept reminders of all grudges they held against other ward members, locals hated us because our predecessors had called La Virgencita a whore, and those locals who didn't hate us hated other active members in the congregation. On top of that suck salad, the area's housing organization made no damn sense and it was impossible to locate any building or residence without getting lost a lot.

Part of missionary work is we're supposed to set goals for how many lessons we'll have, how many people we'll talk to, how many baptisms we'll have, etc.

And part of that in our mission was our mission president's goal for our mission. He was a bureaucrat, a wannabe Elon Musk type - he believed he could just wave his hand and give orders and we'd all be so delighted to perform that we would just Do It, no questions asked. As such, he had set impossibly high goals for all missionaries. We were expected to have 25 lessons a week with non-members, and in all of those lessons we were expected to be accompanied by a member of the ward. Our ward had no members, the members it did have hated each other, and because the area was so impoverished nobody really had much time to join us in proselyting.

So, starting our Glorious Work and Wonder, we were beset by many difficulties. We were being monitored and policed closely by district and zone leaders, and we were being expected to meet mission standards. My companion, cursed with an alien torment in his soul (autism), was unable to manage the pressure. So we had a heart-to-heart discussion, where he expressed how overwhelmed he felt. I agreed that this would be overwhelming if we had to do it.

He was confused. The Mission President said we had to do it, so we had to do it, right? He's the one who tells us what's possible, if we fail it's just because our own faith was insufficient. I disagreed. Our MP had not been in the area ever. He was a self-congratulatory shitburp with no idea of what was-and-was-not possible, especially for X. So we talked about it and said "if we didn't have those goals, and our only job was to support the local ward, what would we do?" and I told my companion that we would do whatever that was instead.

We decided to focus on 5 things:

Mapping the area for future elders

Repairing relationships with active members

Seeking out less-active or inactive members(if you're ever baptized Mormon and stop going they don't treat you as a non-member, they treat you as a defective member) and trying to get them back to church

Whittling down the ward roster

Repairing community relations

Focusing on these things, my companion's concern as someone cursed by a need to follow rules (Autism) was - how do we report this to district and zone leaders?

Missions operate on a strict bureaucracy that we were expected to be accountable to. And I knew that, and he knew that. But what I knew, that he did not, was that this bureaucratic hierarchy was a sham. The mission was not prepared for this area to exist, and the rules we were expected to follow were predicated on a reality that was not here in the world we lived in.

So I told him I would handle it, and when the time came for us to report our weekly goals I lied. I said our goals were 25 member-present lessons with new people. The district and zone leaders both asked if I thought this was realistic, and I said,

"Yes!"

NOT because it was realistic, but because the actual answer to the question was not allowed: We were not going to teach a single non-member that week. Or the next week. Or even the week following. We had no intention of trying to bring anyone else into this mess until the ward could take it.

When they asked if I had any realistic prospects for those numbers, I already had a response prepared:

"Elders, do you doubt my faith? We prayed over these numbers."

And they balked, because they can't say that my divine inspiration was false because it would mean that anyone's could be. So they just fake smiled and let me do what I was gonna do. And we did that, week after week, for 6 weeks. In the meantime, we were talking to former members, tracking down members who had moved, mapping the area, and keeping score.

After 6 weeks, the transfer cycle ended. We got word that we were going to be staying together a bit longer. Good. Because now things were picking up.

We kept giving them fake numbers, pulling the same "this is my faith" trick, and then doing what needed to be done.

By 4 weeks, we had openly confronted all the priesthood holders in the area. We were kind, because we knew where they were coming from, but we were fierce, because their pain was not a valid excuse to lash out at innocents and made collateral damage.

By 8 weeks in the area, I had been able to give two separate talks where I was able to call people out directly, one-by-one. The three biggest factors in people leaving the church and not coming back had been spoken to directly. Feelings of resentment against us had been brought up directly, and equally directly we were able to shut it down (i.e., "Elder's, I told my employee he had to listen to you to keep his job and you STILL couldn't baptize him? You're the reason this ward will never grow!" "Oh, interesting, because I've got a tally in here of the number of people I spoke to this week who refuse to come back to church until you're dead. I wonder if you might be selling yourself short a little bit, or giving us too much credit for destroying this ward?")

By 12 weeks we were able to start reporting our actual numbers, and they were better than anyone had expected. By a LOT. Our goals were now feasible. With some direct attention, some external pressure, and some patience and service, the members of the ward had learned to work with us really well. It was beautiful to see.

By 18 weeks (my companion and I got 3 transfers together, it was amazing) we had baptisms, and the ward had gone back from 30, to 40, to 60. My companion left at 18 weeks and a new one came in, a go-getter who was gonna take the baton and carry it to the finish line. By the time I left, the ward had 3 baptisms, and had gone to over 80 members.

By breaking the rules and lying to bureaucrats I was given the opportunity to do real good. By using their own rules and norms against them, they were left defenseless to my ability to do what needed to be done.

It's not always so easy - for all their pomp and circumstance, the Mormon church has very little power to do anything real to me. They can all agree that I was Bad or Defective, and they can tell me that they all agreed on that, and they can all tell me that because they agreed on that their punishments have to mean something, but their pretend rules don't make a difference when people are doing the real work. The impossible standards of perfection held by people who can't see past their own eyes, their views of how the world would work if everyone followed their rules, their belief that their rules made them more effective, didn't actually matter to me. I knew that their rules were false to me, so I broke them. Openly, directly, to their faces, and I changed the world of that tiny congregation.

And while the world was changing, I knew that they wanted me to believe their truth come hell or high water, no matter the cost, to uphold the integrity of their desire for the world to work the way they're told it is supposed to even at the cost of my objective reality. They wanted me to ignore the hurting of real people, to ignore the real distress that was happening and the real needs I could see in front of my fucking face, to pretend alongside them that the fantasy of an ideologue could come true in their minds. They wanted me to not see what was happening in front of me so that I could pretend alongside them that something different was happening. So that I could pretend the insane dream of a man so distant from The Work he couldn't even pretend to remember what it was like was real and meaningful.

In his dream-the-impossible-dream world, where everybody is readily and excitedly awaiting the opportunity to be baptized, where everyone will automatically, willingly alter their entire lifestyle to conform to his own expectations of how they should live, where everyone is able to give up anything at the drop of a hat and be rewarded for it, and where the only permanent aspects of people's identities were the ones he liked, his vision was doable. But in the real world, where I was living, it was incomprehensibly stupid, and so detached from reality that actively trying to enact The Dream would have been harmful.

This story is about missions being stupid, but it is also about abstinence only sex ed. It's about tax-exempt churches. It's about cutting social safety nets. It's about pontificating about values and virtues online but never acting on them in a tangible way. It's about being so concerned with nostalgia, or with an impossibly idealistic world, or being so concerned with maintaining virtue, that you overlook the person in front of you. It's about getting so caught up in playing by the rules that we get paralyzed. It's about not getting anything done.

Do what it takes, even if it means disregarding others. Do what it takes, even if it means betraying the dream world you want to live in. Do what it takes, even if you know it's gonna make people mad. Because no matter how they feel, no matter how many delusional dreamers feel put off by your actions, you will have done more than their fantasies have ever done. Lift where you stand, change the lives of people you know, build your communities, and do it by giving them what they actually need. Do it by giving them what you can see is required, even if it's not considered worthwhile. Use your eyes to see and your ears to hear the humanity around you, and the carceral nature of the overly rigid "perfect" fantasy world can disappear for you too.

And, as always, read more Terry Pratchett, snuggle your cats and loved ones, be gay, do crime.

Love y'all <3

#tgirl swag #mormon #ex mormon #exmormon #trans stuff #trans pride #sir terry pratchett #terry pratchett #just do it

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traveler-at-heart · 3 months ago

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Hot and Cold

Summary: Natasha's playing with fire when a new resident joins the Compound.

A/N: Queen of Angst @esposadejoyhuerta asked for the fluffiest, sweetest, tooth rotting story ever and I was happy to deliver, even after they changed their request to inclue jealousy BECAUSE no one can stop me. Love ya, baby!

Another day, another mission. Since last week’s mess, it seems like Fury’s been finding ways to torture the team.

Yes, at the end they were able to retrieve the drive with the data of over twenty enhanced individuals. But so did HYDRA. And now the Avengers are on a race against time to locate them before the Russians do.

Natasha walks to Fury’s office, not excited at the prospect of risking her life to recruit people who didn’t really want to be found.

“Yes?” she says as soon as Fury turns around. He hands over a very heavy binder. “Is this their criminal record?”

Great, a weirdo with a troubled past. Natasha might not make it out alive.

“No, that’s their academic stuff. She’s a scientist. Crazy smart” Fury explains. “Have you heard of Bio-Thermokinesis?”

“No, not really”

“The ability to manipulate the body temperature of oneself and/or others” he recites, having learned the concept just now.

“That doesn’t sound so bad” Natasha says, closing the folder. It’s certainly better than the last few people she had to chase down.

“Yeah, until she induces a heat stroke or hypothermia” Fury scoffs. “We’ve been failing at recruiting these people. It would be nice to have a win. Plus, she could work in the lab with Banner and Stark”

“I don’t think Nerd Club is worth one’s freedom” Natasha mutters, skimming through the file.

“Well, either way, this mission doesn’t requires strenght. It requires charm. You up for it or should I send Hill?”

As Natasha gets to the picture of the target, she looks up.

“I’ll handle it”

—

As usual, you’re carrying more than you can possibly handle. Books, your laptop, a sandwich from the cafeteria, and correspondence from the main office.

By the time you manage to open the door to your office, half of the things in your arms are dangerously close to scattering across the hardwood floor.

“Oh, shit” you mutter when your keys drop.

“Need a hand?” a voice says and you jump back, the rest of your stuff flying across the room.

“Uh… can I help you?” you say, because the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen is perched up on your desk, legs crossed and a playful smirk across her striking features.

“Are you Doctor Y/L/N?”

“Yes. How did you…? I’m pretty sure the door was locked”

Is she a thief? You have absolutely nothing of value, at least not for a conventional burglar. You run every possibility in your mind and then you land on your second least favorite one.

Natasha notices the room getting warmer, probably because of how flustered you got. The file seems accurate regarding your power.

“AC broke down?” she asks innocently, undoing the top button of her shirt.

“Uh… I… I’ll open the window” you say, pushing it and leaning against the window pain. You consider jumping down to escape, but it’s a considerable height. You take a breath, deciding to face the matter head on. “So, which agency sent you?”

“Ever heard of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Yes, that was my first guess” you admit with a sad smile. “What can I do for you, Agent…?”

“Call me Natasha” she says, hopping off the desk. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news… and a generous offer”

“Mmm” you nod, fixing your glasses.

“A tactical team was sent to stop the purchase of confidential information for 30 enhanced individuals. We were able to obtain it… and so did HYDRA”

“Listen” you raise your hand, taking off your glasses and pinching the bridge of your nose. “I get it. HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. know about me. The thing is, my power isn’t something you can leverage in a fight. I doubt they’ll be very interested in me”

“I think you’re wrong. And it’s not just your ability. Your expertise in science and your genetic makeup can be used to experiment”

“So, is that what S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to do with me?” you sigh, looking out the window. You’re enjoying the view, vaguely aware that life as you know it is over.

“We want to offer you shelter at the Avengers Compound. 24 hour security, top facilities and technology. You can continue your research” Natasha says, trying to make it sound like a great deal.

It brings her back to that time Fury told her it was either work for the US government or end up in the Raft.

Your offer is slightly better, but a golden prison is still a prison.

“Are there any questions I can answer before you make a decision?” she offers with a kinder tone.

“Yeah. Do I even have a choice?”

—

Academic life is all you’ve ever known. Grants were the perfect way to do your research without having to look for a benefactor and expose yourself. You could learn things about your DNA, your abilities, while doing other stuff without anyone noticing.

Now, you wake up and there’s nothing that drives you. You live with people who have exceptional skills, physical prowess, and military training. Their world is avenging, your world is scientific papers and books.

Sure, their lab is nice, but most of the times you end up leaving early, completely unmotivated and feeling empty.

Natasha watches from afar, and although this isn’t her doing, she feels responsible. She tries to include you in activities she understands, like training, but you’re very obviously not the athletic kind.

Banner is, as usual, isolating himself and Tony speaks nerd, but is barely around unless a mission requires his presence.

It isn’t until one day that Peter shows up to the Compound that Natasha gets an idea.

“Hi, Miss Romanoff. Is Mister Stark around?” he asks in that shy tone he always uses when he’s around Natasha.

“Nope, not to my knowledge. Do you need anything?”

“FRIDAY told me to meet him here. He must have forgotten. I guess I better get back to my Biochem project”

Wait a minute.

He’s a nerd.

“Stay” she says, looking him up and down. Peter reminds her of a puppy when he stops completely, as if he learned a new command. “Wait for Tony at the lab. I’ll try to find him”

“You’re sure? I’m not allowed inside by myself” he hesitates, following Natasha.

“Yeah, it’s fine” she types in the access code, and of course, there you are, spinning in your chair.

As soon as you hear the door opening, you stop your movements, almost falling off.

Natasha finds your blush adorable.

“Hey, Y/N. This is Peter. He’ll be around waiting for Tony”

“Oh, hey. Ok, I was just leaving. I’m kinda stuck either way”

“Ordinary Differential Equations?” Peter says as soon as he gets his eyes on your board.

“Yes. Very impressive” you nod. “This is focused on genetic network. I’m trying to determine inborn errors of metabolism”

“Oh, you know? There’s a brilliant Doctor who’s working on that, maybe her paper would be great for you. She’s Y/N Y/L/N”

“Yeah, that’s me” you say, tapping your chin and examining the board. “What is your ability? If you have any? Maybe I can use a different set of data”

“Yes! I would love to, what do you need from me?” Peter says, a little starstruck at finding out you’re one of the most prestigious researchers in the world.

“For now, a blood sample” you wink at him, adjusting your glasses.

Natasha sits in the back of the lab as you and Peter work together, and you explain every concept to him. This is the first time since you arrived that you don’t look so miserable.

The Russian takes it as a small win when you join her in the common area for dinner.

Since Peter found out about your abilities and your permanent stay at the Compound, you’ve been advising him on his project and college applications. Which is a really nice distraction, but it also makes you miss your own college days.

So, even if you’re in a better mood, it’s still hard to socialize with the team.

One day, you enter the lab to find Rogers, Wilson and Barnes looking at a screen, while Natasha types.

“Whoever encrypted this is slightly smarter than me. Only slightly”

They look away as you drag a chair to focus on your own stuff, a cup of coffee in your hand and a cookie in your mouth.

“Hi…” you wave at them, feeling intimidated as usual.

“Hey, weather girl” Sam winks at you.

Natasha rolls her eyes and elbows him.

“Ignore him, Y/N”

You can tell she’s getting frustrated, so you inch closer, looking at the code over her shoulder. Placing your hand on her elbow, you silently ask for permission to take over.

The redhead eyes you curiously, but stops typing and moves the keyboard your way. It takes you twenty seconds to hack into the files.

“How…?”

“I used to hack into databases to make sure my name wasn’t on any watchlist” you explain casually. Natasha laughs at that. “Anyway, there you go”

“Thanks, Y/N. You’re my hero” Natasha says, smiling up at you. Her tone makes you blush and you nod, going back to your desk.

“Nice work. We could use your help if you’re free some other time” Steve says as they leave the lab.

“Of course, Capitan”

—

An intruder changes your mind about training. The threat is handled swiftly and you don’t even have time to hide before F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirms the suspect has been taken into custody

But you don’t even know how to begin to defend yourself, so you come back to Natasha, asking if her offer still stands.

Needless to say, the spy is more than happy to train you. Not just because it means you’re comfortable asking for things, but because Natasha can teach you something that will help you protect yourself.

You start with two sessions per week, which later turns to four, until you’re comfortable with training almost daily.

The rest of the team joins from time to time, giving you advice and helping you when Natasha’s away on missions.

After a few weeks, Natasha notices how your resistance is better and you’re building some muscle.

Only as a professional observation. It’s not like she finds you attractive, with that nerdy charm and toned arms.

One day, as you’re leaving the gym, she checks her bag, cursing when she notices she forgot a change of clothes.

“Wanna borrow one of my hoodies?” you offer, handing over your NYU sweatshirt.

“You sure?” Natasha hesitates.

“Yeah, I got tons of these. From all the places I’ve done work or research”

“I’ll give it back” she promises, taking it.

That turns out to be a lie.

A few days later, when you’re folding your laundry, F.R.I.D.A.Y. requests that you join Tony and Banner in the lab. Leaving the basket in the living room, you think nothing of it, nor do you notice that a couple of your sweatshirts are gone.

It all comes to light a week later, when Natasha comes back from a grueling mission. The only thing that will make her feel better is staying in her room while wearing your UCLA hoodie.

She totally forgets about her attire when she answers the door.

“Huh, so that’s where it was” you tilt your head, smiling.

“I…”

“I’m watching a movie, care to join me? It’s one of your favorites”

“Ok” she nods, surprised that you’re not mad about the stolen sweatshirt.

Natasha enters your room, appreciating the combination of books, notes and the board with equations. After you apologize for the mess, you offer a place to sit in your bed.

“It looks good on you” you compliment the redhead. Natasha smiles, trying to be nonchalant about it.

“Thank you”

It becomes a habit, to steal your hoodies.

“Objectively speaking, you don’t actually need them as you can regulate your temperature” Natasha comments one day, digging through your closet. To her shock, she finds a sweatshirt with a sorority logo on it.

“Not mine. A girl I hooked up with in college” you explain.

Natasha rolls her eyes, throwing the garment as far away as possible while pulling a face. You laugh at her reaction.

“Don’t be jealous, Natty. You’re my favorite” you promise, unaware of the effect your words had on her.

“And yet you never let me wear the Harvard one”

“That was my first” you shrug your shoulders.

“First college or first hook up?” Natasha taunts and you laugh.

“A nerd never kisses and tell. Actually, a nerd rarely kisses anyone to being with” you try to joke, pulling out the Harvard sweatshirt from your closet to put it on.

Natasha eyes it, and you catch her intentions a little too late. She inches forward and you stretch your arm back, trying to place the hoodie out of reach.

“Nu-uh” you shake your head, laughing as she keeps trying to steal it. “Natasha, there are like ten other hoodies you could take!”

“I want this one!” she insists, jumping. Her body crashes against yours, and you both stumble, falling in your bed. Limbs are tangled and her laugh tickles your ear as she struggles to lift herself up. After a moment, Natasha smiles, looking at your lips. “Gotcha”

You don’t even know what to say, her intense stare making you feel warm -both literally and figuratively - and your heart beats faster when it seems like she’ll lean forward and kiss you.

“Agent Romanoff, there’s an urgent call for you” FRIDAY interrupts the moment.

Natasha sighs, standing up and looking at you.

“Catch you later?”

“Yeah” you nod, trying to hide your disappointment.

—

Natasha was gone for a week, and returned with a very bad injury. You heard the news as Steve and Tony were arguing in the kitchen, blaming each other as usual.

“Where…? Is she ok…?” you try to interrupt them, but they’re in the middle of a screaming match.

“Come with me” Maria says, taking you to a whole different wing of the Compound. Since you’ve never been on missions, you didn’t know about the Medbay.

Natasha’s lying in a hospital bed, asleep.

“She’s ok. A guy threw a knife at her, but it was only a superficial stab wound. Doctor said she’ll be discharged tomorrow” Maria eases your nerves.

Of course, for her it’s easy to say it’s no big deal. Agents are shot, blown up, killed in the field. A little scratch is nothing, especially for Natasha. But you take a deep breath, leaving the Medbay in a rush.

As you lock yourself in the Avenger’s Lab, you make F.R.I.D.A.Y. a simple request.

“Show me the mission’s footage”

—

Natasha’s had worst, truly. But still, her head is throbbing when she wakes up. The doctor discharges her with the instruction to rest for a week. No training either.

The Russian notices a bag with clothes on the chair next to her bed. She finds your Harvard sweatshirt, which puts a tiny smile on her face.

You are nowhere to be found in the Compound when she returns, so she goes to her room to take another nap, the painkillers making her sleepy.

By the time Natasha wakes up to get something to eat, F.R.I.D.A.Y. requests her presence in the lab.

“What is it?” she says, surprised to find you working on a tablet. It looks like you haven’t slept in the last 24 hours, five or six cups of coffee around the various tables in the lab.

“I created a new technology for your suit” you jump right to it. “It has motion sensors that are triggered by incoming threats. That way, if someone tries to sneak up on you, you can either get an alert or program a defense mechanism that can be shot from any part of the suit”

Natasha takes the tablet, running the simulation. She’s impressed with the level of detail you’ve placed on this and on such short time. She’s about to thank you, but you’re already asleep in the couch of the lab, clearly exhausted from all the work you’ve done.

The sight of your sleeping form makes Natasha’s heart flutter.

—

Movie night is the one tradition you’ve always been on board with. Coincidentally, it’s Natasha’s least favorite. Depending on her mood, she’ll join everyone on the living room, or talk you into watching something else in your room or hers.

Tonight, she stops by once the movie has already started. As usual, you’re on the couch in the far back of the room, your glasses reflecting the screen as you eat some popcorn.

“Hey” Natasha leans over the back of the couch and whispers against your ear, making you jump. Your eyes follow her as she jumps over to plop down next to you.

“You’re not supposed to be doing that with a hole on your side, Natasha” you reprimand.

“It’s fine” she lies, grabbing some popcorn.

As the movie keeps going, the woman inches closer to you. At first you think she’s settling in her seat, but then her hand spreads on the back of the couch, dangerously close to your neck.

It’s fine. You can handle it.

Nope, you absolutely can’t. Not when you feel Natasha’s nimble fingers playing with the hairs on the back of your neck, her digits alternating between caressing the skin and scratching your scalp.

“You’re hot” she whispers at some point and you turn to look at her, dazed.

“Huh?”

“You feel hot” she clarifies a second later, her eyes looking at your lips. “Is everything ok? Those powers of yours are acting up”

“I’m fine” you nod, looking back at the screen. Aware that you are in fact increasing the temperature in the room, you take a breath and close your eyes, before anyone else notices.

You’re almost back to normal when Natasha stretches and lies across your lap, her left hand squeezing your thigh as the other one begins to trace patterns in your skin.

All while she's wearing your Harvard sweatshirt.

Your only thought is to take it off, along with the rest of her clothes and kiss every inch of her body.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., is the thermostat broken…?” Tony finally snaps, annoyed at the sudden changes in temperature. “Never mind”

Everyone follows his eyes as he looks to the back of the room, where Natasha is playing dumb while riling you up.

“Can you two find a room to turn into a sauna and spare the rest of us?” Tony says, which makes your eyes widen, and the room practically turns into a freezer. “Great, now we’re all turning into popsicles. Cap, you’re familiar with the feeling, right?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Tony” Natasha finally stands up, showing you some mercy. “Come on, detka”

“Uh, ok” you say, your voice barely a whisper as you allow the woman to drag you back to her room.

As soon as the door is shut, she pushes you against it.

“So, tell me” she says with a playful smile. “How hot do you think it will get here?”

You can only shake your head, speechless. Natasha smiles, kissing you softly. All thoughts leave your head, opening your mouth to give her access. You’ll do anything she asks, anything at all.

“I see” she smiles when the room gets hot. “Good thing we won’t have our clothes on”

It’s the best sex of your life.

So much so, the fire alarm goes off in the entire Compound.

“Fucking worth it” you sigh as you’re both naked in bed, the water from the sprinklers evaporating from all the heat in the room.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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whokilledsamara · 5 months ago

Note

so about the mr. silvair hc where he makes mr. chopped watch with our permission... 👀 pls write something about that 🙏🙏🙏🙏

WATCHING

a Mr. Silvair x afab reader fic {an: amab version posted! :)}

warnings || smut, vouyerism, slight asphyxiation, hair pulling, cuckhold, multiple positions, NEEDLE MENTION AT START!! {not smut related}

{an: i stared at this in my ask box and kept thinking of a way to write it,, also just a oneshot, not too long :)}

a small huff releases you as Mr. Silvair injects the needle into your arm, before slowly pulling the tab as blood fills the syringe.

"What do you even need this for anyways?" you ask, staring up at him. he pauses and tilts his head, seemingly confused. "...?" his gaze, or lack there of, set on your face.

"Why, Doing?" you finally say, voice cracking at the foreign language that you still cant get the hang of. he thinks for a second, before shrugging. "Need, Blood. Experiments." he answers, quickly returning to your arm.

well that didnt answer your question..

allowing him to finish his administrations, seemingly pleased with your cooperation, he stands back up. Mr. Silvair makes his way into his experiment room, disappearing for a moment.

Mr. Chopped was seated happily on the couch as always, beckoning you over with his chats. you sit down next to him, gently petting his head and murmuring 'cute' in their language.

chatting conquers for a good while, even as you struggle to remember his language, but manage.

Mr. Silvair emerges from his lab, a fresh coat on. he beckons you closer with a finger, smiling softly when you obey.

"Remove, Clothing" he states matter of fact. pausing, your face heats up with both confusion and embarrassment. "W-What..?" you ask quietly. he stares at you for a second before pointing at your lower abdomen.

"Me touch. Experiment." he hums softly. your face heats up even further, eyes flicking from him to Mr. Chopped who was still seated with a confused expression.

"Me can remove resident. Want?" he asks with a gentle smile as always. it takes a second for you to process his words, and before you can think, you find yourself shaking your head.

"He can stay.." you say with a flushed face. his smile grows wider, pleased at your response. a soft sigh escapes your lips as you gently reach for your clothes, slipping them off with ease.

"Desire, Carry! Desire, Carry!!" Mr. Chopped exclaims with excitement. a low chuckle escapes Mr. Silvair's lips and with gentle hands he picks the head up, placing him closer to the both of you. "Pretty!" he says happily, appraising your naked form.

"Thank you.." you mutter, a small squeak leaving your lips as Mr. Silvair's hands suddenly grip your waist, walking you to the couch and gently pressing you down on it, chest up. his hand drags down your torso, in between the valley of your breasts and down your stomach.

a shiver runs down your spine when his hand gently parts your thighs, exposing your glistening folds to his gaze. the smile on his face curls up even more, and with an experimental touch, he runs a finger in between your lips.

instinctively, your back arches off the couch, a hushed whine leaving your lips. "Interesting." he mutters under his breath. Mr. Chopped couldn't look any happier, excited noises leaving his mouth with every touch Mr. Silvair makes on your needy body. "Turn around." he says, gently patting your thigh with a smile.

obediently, you position yourself on all fours, making your chest hit the couch and your hips in the air. a pleased hum leaves his chest, his gentle yet massive hand caressing your ass.

excited giggles leave Mr. Chopped as expected, but hit a high pitch when Mr. Silvair lays an unexpected yet soft pat to your bottom. "Again!" the head says with a giddy smile. another chuckle leaves Mr. Silvair and he complies, asserting another slap, this time a bit harder.

a shuffling sound can be heard behind you, but a second before you can look back, you feel something poke your entrance.

something big.

he runs his member up and down your slit, collecting the juices dripping from it and using it as a lube of some sort. Mr. Silvair's hands gently grasp you, spreading you for easier access.

pain shoots through your core as he slowly presses himself inside of you, a low grunt leaving his lips in pleasure. "Feels good." he reassures you, leaning down to press his chest against your bare back when he bottoms out.

the cold air of the room you made your senses heighten, but what made it all the more was his cold hands gripping your hips as he laid down shallow thrusts. when he felt your hips push back, he took it as a sign to go faster, quickly picking up the pace with his thrusts. whines and moans left your lips, Mr. Chopped's eyes following your every movement.

"Faster?" Mr. Silvair questions, his hand reaching around to grab the front of your neck, pulling you up some.

tears fall down your face as you nod, blood staining your lip from biting so hard. his hand moves from your neck to your chin, turning your face to the side in a quick kiss, rough due to his intense thrusts. "S-Silvair- fuck- i cant take.. hic.. it-" and while he didnt quite understand your words, he didnt take it as a bad sign. his thrusts only quickened, his hips desperately slapping against your ass.

"Me want see!" Mr. Chopped whines, pouting at his lack of view, mainly only seeing Mr. Silvair's back.

"mmmmghh.." you groan against the couch cushion, yelping at the sudden change of position when Mr. Silvair flips you onto your back.

he slips back in with ease, throwing your leg over his shoulder and pressing you down with his hips. "a-ahh- mmmm.." you whine, the pathetic moans leaving your lips seemingly spurring Silvair on.

his hand travels down and rubs furiously on your clit, your hands suddenly shooting out to grab his shoulders, one managing to slip into his hair and tug. he lets out a low groan, his face turning into one of pure pleasure. his hand rubs faster, matching the rhythm of his thrusts in effort to make you cum before he does.

with another thrust and a magical finger on your clit, your back arches as far as possible, your orgasm ripping through you like fireworks.

"fuuuuccckk..." a long curse leaves your lips and not long after yours, Silvair's orgasm follows. hot spurts of cum fill you, and in the background you both can hear Mr. Chopped giggling.

you wince as Mr. Silvair pulls his length out, his previous cum dripping out of your well spent hole. he smiles gently down at you, quickly making his way to clean you up. once finished, his hand gently caresses your head. "Again! Again!" Mr. Chopped exclaims, a big smile on his face. both you and Mr. Silvair laugh softly, your tired expression speaking for you. he gently pats your thigh, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

"Later."

{an: aughh sorry the end is kind of cheezy, ive been working on this throughout the day,,, 💔}

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

#smut #homicipher #homicipher x reader #afab reader #mr. silvair #mr chopped x reader #mr silvair x reader #mr silvair #mr chopped head #mr silvair x y/n #threes0me #cuckcold

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un-fwuit-un-fwog · 2 months ago

Note

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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eriscary · 10 months ago

Text

This is a fully updated version of Tear's info sheet. It's advised to be read only after reading the 'Passing Ghost' comic, as it contains heavy spoilers.

__________________

Biography:

Tear!Sans is a puppet body possessed by a Napstablook whose greatest wish was to become Sans and see the multiverse. He created his body from mix and matching puppets made by Error!Sans. This angered Error so much that in his outrage he happens to glitch Tear into a corrupted Underfell AU variant with a missing Sans file.

Tear’s forced, glitched entry allows the Underfell AU to act in self-preservation and use glitches to save itself from corruption. It adopts Tear!Sans as its original Sans, renaming itself to Undertear. If Tear!Sans dies and there is a RESET, he comes back like other monsters. However, it also causes Tear’s original AU to be corrupted instead due to Tear’s absence. The memories the residents have of Underfell!Sans get replaced by Tear!Sans, although not perfectly.

Appearance:

Because Tear’s body is a puppet, his bones are plush and have visible stitches. He wears white gloves to hide stitches, but his forehead has the most obvious line of them. He also wears Napstablook shaped headphones and a white coat with a purple hood. Its backside has a pattern of two tear drops forming an upside-down heart. Underneath it is a beige scarf, white shirt and black shorts.

Story:

Tear’s AU got a lot of Sans variant visitors that he observed from afar. Through observation he learns of the multiverse and wishes to experience it. Even wishing to be like Sans, to feel as loved, important and blend in with the multiverse travelers.

An opportunity presents itself to Tear when Error appears in their AU. They go through the portal Error created, to see the ‘AU’ on the other side. Instead, they find themselves in the antivoid with Error’s puppets. They proceed to mix and match the puppets in order to create a new body for themselves.

Upon his return, Error is infuriated at his work being destroyed. In their rage they attack Tear, only to end up crashing and glitching Tear to a corrupted Underfell AU variant instead. Said AU slowly patches itself up, using the same glitches Tear came there with. Changing bits of its resident’s codes, as well as its own. On their arrival to Underfell, Tear encounters a glitchy Papyrus that seems to have confused them for his brother who went missing. Not able to get a word in, they get dragged back ‘home’ with him.

In the meantime, Error manages to find where Tear went, planning to eliminate them out of anger, as well as before more timelines and AUs have a chance to exist. Unfortunately, the AU adopts Tear as its original Sans and changes its name to Undertear. With this action and thanks to creators, more AUs with Tear variants come to be. Error stops himself.

He settles on observing the AU's code for a while, before destroying the newly formed Undertear. However, after calming down from his initial infuriated reaction, he felt hesitation. Tear is made of his materials, HIS puppets. He is worried destroying Tear will destroy his stuff that he wants back. It ends up making him feel frustrated instead. After getting rid of Tear's original AU, as it's now corrupted due to their absence, Error goes on a streak of destroying different AU's with Tear’s variants. Error hates Tear for what they did. He steals the chocolates from Undertear too, out of spite (it's created from Underfell after all). This is why Tear never has chocolate at home. Tear assumes it's Papyrus eating them, so they stock up for Papyrus. Error tells himself he will eventually get rid of the anomaly that ruined his puppets, but it never happens.

The memories the AU residents have of Underfell Sans get replaced by Tear, although not perfectly. Monsters exhibit the recollection of some smaller traits (like the clothing aesthetic). Papyrus recollects the most, yet lives in stubborn belief that Tear is their brother. They got occasionally questioned by others if they are truly related since Tear is a plush. He was quick to shut everyone up. Papyrus believes his life memories cannot be wrong. It doesn’t matter what their brother is made of, he was there with them for as long as he remembers.

Tear ends up living his life as a play-pretend, replacement for Underfell Sans. Unaware his original AU is gone and unable to leave Undertear.

Personality:

Tear used to naively believe that everyone is good hearted and tried to be polite even in situations he shouldn’t.

He soon learns of the multiverse and wishes to experience it. Even wishing to become Sans himself, so he would feel important, loved and blend in more with the multiverse travelers.

But with the environment of the new AU he got stuck in, as well as the chain of events that got him there, he learns not everyone is sunshine and rainbows. Tear is quick to learn the infamous “kill or be killed” motto of his new home and becomes more jumpy, careful of any signs of hostility. This made him more nervous of new faces than he already is.

Tear spends much of his time training to behave like Sans, failing at making good puns and stressing over not being lazy enough for Sans standards. He works too hard to be one, believing it would give him everything he wanted and make him survive the new world. After all, Sans surely blends into crowds with ease. They saw it with their own eyes. Tear also goes as far as using a great deal of effort into shaping his tears to be gaster blasters and bones. It hinders his speed, although even with this he is as fast as classic Sans, but fails at matching him in damage output. Most of the time he feels like he isn’t good enough, both as his old self and Sans. The new life makes him believe it’s his responsibility to do everything Sans took care of and he decides to stay till real Sans returns. Tear tends to blame himself for everything and does not acknowledge himself as a full Sans. It comes from the fact their bones are plush and have sewing stitches, his lack of confidence making him believe he ‘didn’t study enough’ to become one, failing to match some of the memories Papyrus seems to have of a Sans that Tear never met or saw, as well as the fact he is a play pretend replacement for someone. It has caused him to not fuse with his body yet.

Even though Tear felt abandoned by family and friends in their original AU, now they truly had no one. They were alone. Everyone here seemed so cold, cruel and even harder to approach.

Underfell/Undertear Papyrus becomes Tear’s only shelter from the outside world and Tear starts to grow attached over the course of time. Papyrus ends up being the only monster that truly cares for them, wants them safe and Tear is very hungry for any form of comfort. Even hugs make him REALLY happy. As a ghost, he felt very touch starved. Papyrus even adapts himself to look out for Tear better, seeing as he was unable to get ‘his brother back in shape’. Tear finally feels like he has someone that won’t leave him. He is finally important enough like Sans.

More than anything, Tear fears being abandoned again and this fear resurfaces in a way bigger wave. Tear believes if the real Sans returned, he would be abandoned and become someone forgotten and tossed aside. Likely dusting at the hands of another monster, if not Papyrus himself. More than anything, Tear fears Papyrus learning he is just a pretender, a replacement. This constant fear pulses through him, not letting him accept himself. Tear starts hoping Underfell!Sans doesn’t return and it makes them feel more guilt.

Tear would never leave his body, even if he sank at the bottom of the ocean. He also does not slip up by not shaping his attacks either. In Tear’s eyes, he cannot afford Papyrus or anyone that could tell Papyrus knowing he is a ghost. If Papy is gone… Tear has nothing and no one. He starts pretending to be ‘a perfect Sans’ at this point just to not lose him.

Knowing he does not truly belong, makes Tear feel detached from everyone.

Sometimes he will stand outside invisible, watching everything move without him, no one noticing them and everything passing him by.

Tear in general phases/goes invisible a lot, as means of escaping certain encounters or situations.

Abilities:

- Tears: When Tear!Sans cries, his tears hurt anyone on contact. Tear’s vision also gets watery.

- Shaping tears: Tear!Sans often controls his tears to take a certain shape like his top hat, but usually gaster blasters and bones in hopes of mimicking Sans. Such objects cannot be held by anyone else, as they would take damage.

- Phasing: Tear!Sans can will his body to phase through things, just like when he was a ghost. His body gets more transparent or straight up invisible. Their magic/tears remain visible. Unlike his ghost self, phasing requires magic this time. When too emotionally overwhelmed, he will unintentionally phase. Phasing gives him invulnerability, but he cannot attack during it.

- Ghostly sight: If Tear!Sans had a strong connection with a monster that died, he can see them as a spirit. This only happens if the spirit decides to stay before passing on. In a genocide route, Papyrus is temporarily one of them. He is just a presence that can communicate with Tear, be seen only by Tear and do nothing more.

In battle:

Tear's strength is on par with Classic Sans. He doesn't hit as hard, yet keeps up by attacking faster. He, however, loses the extra speed by shaping his attacks. Because he always holds back by doing so, he is overall weaker. His boss fight is also shorter because of him spending a lot of magic uncontrollably, before and during the fight. A lot of Tear’s magic is spent on day to day occurrences where he cries and phases. Tear’s magic reserves are never full unless they just slept/ate.

-Tear shares the same stats as Napstablook (HP 88, ATK 10, DEF 10).

-Due to mimicking Sans by resting frequently, Tear overcaps his base stat HP by 10. (like player does by sleeping in the inn)

-Tear is worse at dodging than classic Sans.

-Tear does not act as a ‘judge’ for the player.

-Unlike a Classic Sans or Underfell/Undertear Papyrus, Tear has no recollection of RELOADs and RESETs

-Tear cannot use blue attacks, do damage via karma points like Sans (damage overtime), shortcut and travel AUs on their own.

-Tear’s magic dissipates inside a body of water. Paired with the fact he doesn’t know how to swim and can’t shortcut, it’s his biggest weakness.

Genocide route:

The first time Player attempts Genocide route, they are forced to RESET in the judgement hall. Tear did not fuse with his body and as such cannot be harmed by physical attacks. Not killing Tear, as they are this world’s ‘Sans’, drops the genocide route.

On a RESET the Player instead focuses on dealing with Tear’s insecurities. Although it takes excruciatingly long, Tear eventually ends up fusing with his body. They inform the Player of finally accepting themselves fully for the way they are. Thanking them via cell phone. This makes the Player finally continue dusting monsters on sight.

Having not witnessed the fight itself, Tear arrives at the sight of Papyrus dusting in front of the human. He runs away in fear, to hide. Tear can be found again, crying in the judgment hall while hiding behind a pillar and flooding the place in tears.

Player has to mind their step. Tear’s ability lets him see Papyrus’s spirit in front of him and he is the only reason they don’t have an emotional breakdown just from seeing the Player walk in. Papyrus is there solely to keep his emotions at bay, so Tear would waste less magic in the fight on crying and phasing in unintended moments. It only stalls the inevitable and his emotions still flare up. Tear is never the one that initiates the battle. Player does. First knife slash is free, Tear doesn’t dodge. He has never perceived knives as a weapon due to prior physical immunity. Having just fused, he held no fear of any item that could be considered a weapon. He screams out in pain.

Battle starts with Tear shaping his attacks into bones and gaster blasters. The more desperate and terrified he grows, the more he phases and cries on top of the already launched attacks, making it harder to dodge. Tear weeps out loud to Papyrus of how scared he is through the whole fight. His attack speed boosts, as he eventually stops shaping attacks. The battle is over when his magic is completely spent, leaving them defenseless.

Neutral route:

Neutral route is more brutal on Tear then genocide, if Papyrus is killed and they fuse with their body. Tear still runs away at the sight of Papyrus dusting and can be found crying in the judgment hall. This time Papyrus's spirit isn't there, as he has deemed his brother won't need to fight the Player. Because Tear isn't aggressive to the human and never starts fights. Papyrus saw his own death as just another 'kill or be killed' moment.

Without Papyrus there to calm Tear, Tear spends a lot of his magic having an emotional breakdown, crying and phasing, from just seeing the Player walk in. If battle with Tear is initiated, he only survives two turns before his magic is completely spent. In those two turns, Tear doesn't shape his attacks. There is more excess magic going wild.

Without killing Papyrus, the Player can fight Tear at full strength. Tear won’t be hiding or having an emotional breakdown. However, they never stop shaping their attacks. The fight ends up just as long as Classic’s.

Pacifist route:

Player focuses on defying the ‘kill or be killed’ mentality of underground monsters. Helping them see the world in a different light. Papyrus is easier to ‘convert’ because of Tear.

The Player doesn’t end up focusing on Tear, as they aren’t aggressive to them like others. Due to it, Tear doesn’t fuse with his body.

Relationships:

- Underfell!Papyrus / Undertear!Papyrus: Tear’s non-biological brother. Papyrus is convinced Tear and him are truly related. Plush body doesn’t deter him, as he ‘knows’ what his memories are. When he finds Tear, he sees his brother has lost his prior edge. Tear’s ‘new softness’ is a dangerous thing to have in this world. Papyrus tries to help but it does not seem to fix the problem. He then adapts for his brother, keeping an eye on them more to keep them safe.

Trivia:

-Tear’s name has a double meaning. ‘To shed a tear’ and ‘tear something apart’. Different characters will say their name differently, depending on the personal opinion of them.

- He is very soft to hug.

- He is very light and his steps leave no sound.

- His favorite food are Blueberries, or as he calls them, Boo Berries.

- He occasionally calls the Player by a pet name “treasure”.

- Tear slightly hides behind Papyrus when seeing new faces.

- He gets excited at seeing any Sans or Papyrus, no matter how they look.

- Used pronouns are He/They.

- When terrified, Tear can unintentionally water blast the person through his eye sockets.

- If UF!Papyrus was to realize Tear isn’t his real brother and was to confront them angrily, much to his horror, Tear’s soul would break on its own from lack of hope.

#utmv #utmv oc #ut au #tear sans #undertear #undertale #undertale au #undertale multiverse #napstablook sans #eriscary art

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