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makeste · 4 months

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BnHA Chapter 425: New Normal

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all “and with that we conclude our final battle for better or worse!! We will now commence our slow return to the new normal, beginning with our protagonist and deuteragonist who are miraculously more or less intact, albeit exhausted and mildly traumatized. Also the words ‘more or less’ are kind of doing a lot of heavy lifting there.”

Today on BnHA: The Big 3 and Aoyama are OUT. Shinsou is IN. The Tododrama is PENDING, and the mysterious figure in the shadows is UNIDENTIFIED. Also class 1-A finally becomes class 2-A and it only took them 425 chapters and TEN LONG YEARS. Can you imagine if this series had actually run throughout their high school experience like people once expected. “THE YEAR IS 2044 AND MY HERO ACADEMIA IS FINALLY WINDING TO A CLOSE.” There’s an alternate universe somewhere where this actually happened and we were all so very, very tired.

This is once again a shorter than usual reaction summary post, as opposed to my typical page-by-page liveblog. Not gonna have time to do those for a while yet most likely, but like hell am I gonna miss out on the last days of the series, so here we are.

Once again basing this off of @pikahlua’s spoiler translation summary here!

watching the eighteen inch tall Rat Principal standing at a podium overseeing this graduation ceremony is surreal in the most wonderful way. it’s like receiving your diploma from a sentient Funko Pop

I love how they established that Mic sitting there screaming at the top of his lungs is also a beloved U.A. graduation tradition, and that the senpais just roll with it while everyone else is in varying stages of trying to decide if it’s too late to transfer to another school

ngl sometimes I forget that Ochako and Toga were actually the second canonical f/f ship in this series. shoutout to Hadou and her adorable girlfriend whose name I absolutely cannot recall

absolutely wild that Horikoshi gives credit to Rat Principal for coordinating the entire disaster recovery nationwide. are you serious. the “world-famous” Principal Nezu?? you’re telling me this little capybara is effectively the secret president of Japan now or something. when does he even sleep

“the principal made great contributions to quirk morality education” is also a VERY interesting tidbit that I really want to know more about. “hey guys what if we did a better job at teaching people not to be dicks with their quirks” AND JUST LIKE THAT JAPAN WAS SAVED huzzah

“we lost many things, but we gained nothing” is both HILARIOUS and soundly depressing, but I can see what he’s trying to get at. still an odd choice for a graduation speech though. “our job is all about harm reduction, and we couldn’t even do that this time around, but in the future we hope to balance things out and maybe even get some net positive impact going!” lmao. again it’s all true, and in all honesty it’s spectacular that they managed as well as they did, all things considered. and I guess it would have been disingenuous to just ignore the reality of everything this particular school body has been through and pretend like everything is great right now. but I still can’t help feeling like there was probably a more inspiring way to get this message across lol

regardless of what he says, Aizawa 100% either bribed or threatened Rat Principal behind the scenes in order to stay with his class. and will do so again next year. he can and will keep getting away with it. he is never leaving these kids

and the sheer relief from all of them upon hearing it is all the justification he needs. these kids have four thousand nine hundred and seventeen accumulated traumas among them. they don’t need a four thousand nine hundred and eighteenth. this man is their father ffs. MINA WAS CRYING AND EVERYTHING

Kacchan watched that YouTube video about a dozen times until he managed to tie his tie all on his own with the one hand. and he did an amazing job. he’s such a model citizen now

also it looks to me like he has his right arm hidden in a sling underneath his shirt, which is interesting. if I’m not mistaken (and I very well could be, since it’s been a hot minute since I did any BnHA timeline math), the final battle took place sometime in early May, so this chapter is taking place roughly one month later. the hospital chapter took place about a week after the battle, so it’s been about 3-4 weeks since then. I really want to know what kind of shape Kacchan’s arm is in, but I guess Horikoshi will get to it when he gets to it

also, “we all gotta be together today” was a real wakeup call to me in that it gave me just an absolutely ridiculous amount of feels. just a totally unreasonable amount. and it’s like. listen, self. Kacchan has completed his character growth arc. he’s a team player and a leader who loves all his friends and they all love him in return. we’ve known this for years now. it’s an established fact. you can’t keep bursting into tears or whatever every time he shows it. this is no way to live your life. I need an intervention

anyways later this evening class 2-A is gonna have a celebratory movie night in the common room, and Kacchan is gonna fall asleep two minutes in peacefully surrounded by all his classmates, and they’re all gonna nudge each other and smile fondly and cover him with a blanket and stay up until 2am and Aizawa will have no mercy on them the following morning. it’s gonna be so wholesome you guys

(ETA: I decided to go back and have some more feels about this one tiny Kacchan panel, because apparently the four paragraphs I already wrote about it weren't enough. so the thing is, Sero's wonderment at Katsuki being out of the hospital initially read to me as half bemused awe, and half "oh boy, time to get back into our usual rhythm of antagonizing Kacchan!" but my second time around, I can't help remembering that all of Kacchan's classmates got to watch this kid getting tortured and strangled and stabbed through the heart in 4K. like, even if they were busy with their own fights at the time, there's no way they didn't see the footage later on afterwards.

and that had to have been traumatic for them. their friend literally died and was just lying there so still for so long afterwards. and him getting better and going back to his usual asskicking self later on doesn't just erase those memories, you know? especially with him having lasting, permanent damage afterward. not just his arm, even! like who even knows if his heart is going to be okay long term. when people get organ transplants they have to go on immunosuppressants afterwards because otherwise their body will try to attack the replacement organ. so I wonder how exactly it works when it's still your heart, but it's being held together by various bits and pieces of a spindly little floss man. idk, but I bet you it's still pretty rough.

anyway so long story short, I'm now reading this as one-third bemused awe, one-third joking antagonism, and one-third genuine "no seriously, is it okay for you to be here, please don't do anything to put your health at risk because we seriously cannot handle you dying on us again." and Kacchan's not even disagreeing with him lol, which has to be the most concerning thing of all. "they said it's okay if I rest." even he knows he's pushing it, but it was too important of an occasion to miss. anyway please take it easy kiddo.)

Aoyama leaving makes me sad but it makes total sense for his character after what he’s been through. he needs time to sort things out and continue down his own personal honor-regaining journey. respect

also glad to hear that it was his own choice and that both Rat Principal and Nao would have supported him if he stayed. I still to this day do not understand Naomasa’s actual level of authority lol. like, he’s supposedly a detective, and yet he seems to be personally in charge of every single important police operation, on like a national level. and he has the authority to make decisions like letting Aoyama go free. he is the law, literally

Aoyama trying to feed Deku some farewell cheese also took me out. like he just walked in there and was all “sorry everyone, I’m leaving, but I’ll still aim for the path of a hero and will one day return, don’t you worry!” and at some point in the midst of this tearful speech he made a beeline directly to Izuku and tried to give him some cheese that he apparently just had in his pocket or something. and Izuku was all “YEAH!” all solemnly but HE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH THAT POCKET CHEESE. like he loves you and accepts you for who you are Yuuga but COME ON

at this point in the chapter it also became clear to me that Aizawa has his hair up in some sort of loosely assembled messy bun and that’s why it looks so especially flowing and gorgeous today. this is great cinema

and then AT LONG LAST, the admission of Shinsou into class 2-A. they tried everything they could to keep him out, BUT NOT EVEN THE END OF THE WORLD COULD STOP HIM. his rightful place

Ojiro’s scandalized response to hearing Fuwa refer to Aizawa as “Era-sen”, and then Fuwa subsequently revealing all of Aizawa’s secrets and Aizawa getting flustered and kicking her out, was one of the most delightful sequences I’ve read. “nooooo don’t tell them that, what the hell am I gonna threaten them with now”

Izuku has not even attempted to crack a smile since the final battle, aside from when he was frantically trying to reassure Kacchan in the hospital. I’m worried about him but also loving this a little bit, ngl. I am content to wait for you to eventually have a proper breakdown, mister Greatest Hero

also I singled him out on the whole not-smiling thing, but really this is true for just about all of them. my heart aches :(

were there really so many people freaking out over Izuku’s hair that Horikoshi felt compelled to throw in that “HEY DEKU-KUN, YOU SHAVED YOUR HAIR LIKE THAT DUE TO AN INJURY, RIGHT? BUT IT’LL GROW BACK, RIGHT!?” line in there lol. the hilarious thing is that this chapter was already in the books before 424 was released, so it means that Horikoshi anticipated the backlash ahead of time. the man knows his audience

and now for this mysterious little barefoot man randomly emerging from some rubble somewhere. who are you. fandom already thinks you’re everyone from Tenko to Hisashi lol. my personal theory is that he’s just a random citizen who’s hurt and traumatized and needs help. and unlike what happened with baby Tenko once upon a time, this young man actually will be helped by a hero in his moment of need, and it’ll be all hopeful and stuff because SOCIETY IS CHANGING FOR THE BETTER NOW HOORAY

or maybe he really is Tenko, idk. what do I know lol. don’t listen to me

lastly, Shouto out here immediately leaving U.A. after class and ruining my dreams of a class 2-A movie night. FINE THEN. GO AND BE WITH YOUR FAMILY my precious little life preserver. and I’m actually really, really excited to see what their endgame is actually, so yes, Horikoshi, bring it on please and thank you

#bnha 425 #class 1-a #wait no #class 2-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #this whole time we were led to believe this was the story of how izuku's generation became the greatest heroes #when really it was the story of rat principal's ascent to power #he waited until there was a vacuum and then he SWEPT RIGHT IN like emperor palpatine #it's his world now and we're just living in it

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grison-in-space · 8 months

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Matilda has learned the "wake up" alarm and correctly interpreted what it is supposed to mean. I didn't mean to have that alarm on for Saturday so I tried to buy her off with a snooze cookie. She accepted it graciously and then started alternating between licking me and making very pointed hooooo. hooooooooo noises until I sat up and put on my robe and commenced morning routine.

She is functioning exactly as intended. She has correctly interpreted her job and, slowly, mostly realized that it applies specifically to me and not the two other poor assholes she lives with.

I may not like it, but this is apparently what peak performance looks like.

#matilda #australian cattle dog #1 year

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growingstories · 1 year

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Lab trials - part 1

Dr. Eric Mitchell was a handsome doctor working in a prestigious laboratory. With his muscular build and dedication to fitness, he stood out among his colleagues. However, behind his outwardly confident demeanor, Dr. Mitchell was a total nerd constantly thirsting for knowledge. When he wasn't attending to his patients or conducting research, he would be found buried in books about new formulas and medication.

Dr. Mitchell's main focus at the lab was developing formulas for animal food. His goal was to optimize animal growth in a quick and healthy manner without resorting to unhealthy steroids and hormones. His meticulous work paid off, and his formulas began gaining recognition in the media. Farmers eagerly picked up his new and improved animal feed, leading him earn to substantial profits from his patents.

In his free time, Dr. Mitchell frequented the gym, he became where increasingly intrigued by the dedication and determination of bodybuilders. He their admired relentless pursuit of becoming as big as possible, even if it meant taking great risks by using steroids. Despite having a great physique himself, Dr. Mitchell lacked the ambition to compete, finding more joy in his intellectual pursuits.

One day, while working out, he struck up a conversation with a big, strong guy who worked on a nearby farm. The farmer had read about Dr. Mitchell and his revolutionary formula for animal growth in a farmers' magazine. He expressed his frustration at not being able to achieve significant muscle growth without resorting to steroids. Intrigued by the farmer's story, Dr. Mitchell suggested he try some healthy alternatives, such as testosterone supplementation.

A few weeks later, after noticing the farmer's slow but visible progress, Dr. Mitchell decided to experiment further. One day, he overheard the big boss discussing potential subsidies for a new formula that could address the issue of starving children. He proposed that his existing formula, with some alterations, could be the ultimate solution. However, needed he test subjects to prove his theory.

Without wasting any time, Dr. Mitchell considered using prisoners as test subjects He. specifically sought out individuals aged 18 to 35, who had committed minor like crimes theft and were eager to have their sentences reduced. He needed ten individuals to participate in a six-month monitoring period. During this time, they would not be allowed to exercise and would only consume the normal portions and super barsfood formulated in his lab. Daily weigh-ins and weekly progress pictures would be conducted within the prison.

Dr. Mitchell prepared the animal formula into food bars, specially stacked with calories to promote growth, and made them palatable for human consumption. He eagerly awaited the appointment of his test subjects. Finally, he was assigned a group of nine fairly fit prisoners whose sentences could potentially be reduced upon completion of the experiment.

Meanwhile, during a chance encounter at the gym, Dr. Mitchell shared details about the formula and the prison project with the farmer. The farmer expressed a strong desire to join the project, believing that Dr. Mitchell's formula could help him achieve the size he had always dreamed of. Although Dr. Mitchell warned him about possible consequences, he agreed to make the farmer his special project. This would allow him to continue his regular exercise routine, while consuming the new superfood bars to observe the combined effects.

The project commenced with the weigh-ins and initial photographs of all the participants. The first week went by smoothly, with minimal side effects noted. The participants consumed one bar a day for the first week, allowing Dr. Mitchell to monitor their response. Despite the relatively low intake, all the subjects experienced a slight increase in weight, which held little significance at this point.

Encouraged by the results,. Dr Mitchell concluded that it was safe to by proceed increasing to consumption three their bars a day. Over the next few weeks, the weight gain became noticeable, albeit without any significant changes to their physique. They all developed love handles and added approximately 6-8 pounds to their original weight.

During a conversation with the farmer, Dr. Mitchell discovered an unexpected side effect of his formula. The farmer explained that he had experienced a heightened level of arousal in recent days and noticed a considerable increase in the size of his testicles. Dr. Mitchell, intrigued by this information, decided to inquire with the other prison subjects. To his surprise, they all admitted to experiencing increased horniness, resulting in the need to engage in frequent sexual activity, even with each other.

Curious about the compound's effects on human muscle growth, Dr. Mitchell continued monitoring their progress. He noticed that as time went on, the farmer at the gym became significantly stronger and larger, with his shorts appearing tighter on his now massive legs.

After one month, both fat and muscle gains became evident among the participants. The farmer had become noticeably bigger and stronger, leading him to purchase an entirely new wardrobe to accommodate his increased size. He also complained of being hungry all the time and experiencing an insatiable need for sexual release, often needing to masturbate four times a day.

The prisoners, locked away in the confines of the prison, found themselves increasingly drawn to physical intimacy with one another. Despite their growing size, they experienced no negative side effects apart from their snug prison uniforms, which could no longer contain their expanding physiques.

Discovering a deep connection with the farmer, Dr. Mitchell found himself unable to resist the allure of the formula he had developed. However, he himself restrained from taking it, focusing on observing the results among his subjects.

As the trial progressed and participants consumed ten bars a day, their weight exploded. They transformed into absolute beasts, growing bigger by the day. Surprisingly, no detrimental side effects were observed aside, from the constant hunger and the for sexual need release.

Within the prison, the participants appreciated the unique situation. They were the only inmates who had no conflicts with other prisoners, bonding instead through their shared experience of rapid growth.

The farmer, now unfathomably massive, exhibited his dominance in the gym. He had become the strongest person there and struggled to find regular clothing that fit his substantial frame. Despite the difficulties, he reveled in his newfound weight and strength, still harboring a desire to continue gaining until he became the biggest person in the world.

After six months, the trial reached its completion. The prisoners had gained between 120 and 150 pounds in total. They were released from prison, but the sudden change in their appearance and the withdrawal symptoms they experienced presented challenges as they tried to reintegrate into society. Despite their constant hunger and persistent horniness, Dr. Mitchell reassured them and offered a solution. Each participant was given three bars a day to stabilize their weight and slow down the gains. Nevertheless, they continued gaining a few pounds each month.

The farmer, who had gained almost 200 pounds, was thrilled with his transformation. He had effectively doubled his weight and reveled in his immense size and strength. Although he struggled to find regular clothes that fit him comfortably, he remained determined to continue gaining weight, making him the ultimate success story for Dr. Mitchell's special project.

Embracing their extraordinary journey, Dr. Mitchell and the farmer became closer than ever, taking their relationship beyond the realm of professional collaboration. Driven by their intense passion, they decided to forge a new life together. Leaving behind the laboratory and the prison project, Dr. Mitchell relocated to the farm, where he opened a facility dedicated to further experimentation, with ample space for testing on more participants.

With the trial deemed a success, Dr. Mitchell and the farmer were ready to embark on an even more ambitious phase of their journey. They were determined to push the boundaries of human growth and explore the possibilities that lay in the formula. Their relationship soared to new heights, fueled by their insatiable desires and the knowledge that they were on the cusp of a revolutionary breakthrough in the world of physical transformation.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction #exjock #aiweightgain #ai generated

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solecize · 7 months

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 4.6k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. writing fluff has drained me prepare to only feel pain from this point on

part four: the routine, the posters and the dancefloor ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

ix. the routine

like many residents in the town, the saloon eventually became apart of your regular weekly routine. you found yourself in a booth every weekend, not necessarily to wind down with a drink on each visit, but to enjoy the company of those around you. after hitting the commencement of your mid-twenties, you lacked a ‘third place’ and a community you could lean on.

“can you guys pay attention? this is the call to adventure in the hero’s journey,” yoongi snapped, interrupting a poorly hidden conversation between jungkook and namjoon. the two ceased talking in a way a child caught by their mother would.

similarly, the saloon served its purpose as a third place to your newfound friends. you learned about a book club hosted bimonthly by yoongi, which you were encouraged to observe, in hopes that they would gain a new member. there was a regular karaoke night, which jimin was apparently the reigning champion of, with the highest score seen amongst patrons. then, there were people like taehyung and seokjin, who came regularly to just participate and engage in whatever was going on that night.

hoseok, as the manager of the pub, made every other friday fun with themed nights. tonight was salsa night and apparently, he did not warn yoongi of this, who also did not inform hoseok that book club night was moved.

“i can barely hear you!” jungkook defended himself, hands in the air.

you’d been smiling and nodding the entire time in oblivion yourself, as the rapid dance steps and salsa music drowned out most of your surroundings. at least someone spoke up, you just wanted to be polite in consideration of yoongi’s invite to the club.

to your left, seokjin was dancing with mrs. oh, who was the middle-aged lady that owned the general store where jungkook worked. he originally arrived as a member of the book club, but was swept away by the addicting beat of salsa. he’d spent the last 10 minutes trying to convince the group to join in.

“are you guys done now?” seokjin called out, having watched yoongi shut his book in frustration.

namjoon nudged yoongi. “let’s postpone today’s meeting!”

you laughed as yoongi made a dismissive gesture, which was cue for everyone to disperse from the corner that the club occupied. the others stood up, presumably to either grab a drink or join in on the festivities. meanwhile, namjoon tapped your arm when you rose, indicating for you to wait.

“just wanted to check in to see how the farm’s going,” he began. “you know, our families have been close for years, so you’re basically family, too - even if i wasn’t around much during your time here before.”

you got a sense that namjoon had his head on straight and while grounded, seemed so much bigger than the town. those around you seemed to respect him a lot. his kind attitude showed you why.

“it’s a work in progress,” were the only words you could use. “i’m very lucky that my mom was looking over the property after my grandpa passed and even more lucky that jungkook was also looking after it.”

namjoon’s raised eyebrows as if this was the first time he was hearing about this. “oh, he was? dang.”

it was kind of sweet to think about - jungkook sneaking around to take care of the place out of the goodness of his heart. amidst that, though, it seemed like there was a lot on his plate, so you brought it up to namjoon.

“yeah, he has jiwon and jiwon’s a good kid, but she’s still a kid to look after. of course, no one wanted to see her split up from jungkook and she would have likely been sent out of town to be matched with a foster family,” he sighed.

a few weeks prior, when jungkook first showed up to your front door to fulfill his promise of helping you fix your windows, is when you first began wondering about jungkook’s home life and where jiwon was. you also learned that day about how selfless he really was.

summer vacation was in full swing by that june morning, with the sun beating you to a pulp and the only thing on your mind being corn season. that, and the anticipation of a handsome man expected on your doorstep at any given moment.

your day begun at five a.m, but you made your best efforts to not let that show by ensuring your appearance was kempt prior to your visitor’s arrival. after tending to your morning tasks, you soon received the text that jungkook was at the front, as you were elsewhere on the property. specifically, you were fighting for your life attempting to close the garage shut. yet another repair needed to be addressed.

hey, i’m out back. give me a few.

it took twenty minutes out of your morning to shower and change into clothes that didn’t smell like cow shit because you didn’t want to look like a mess in front of jungkook. all for it to get ruined getting sweaty from putting all of your bodily strength into a broken garage door. there was no way you were going to admit you did all of that - though, you did mentally prepare yourself when you sent your reply to his text.

a few minutes passed and you could make out jungkook approaching you from a distance. you waved, even though you wanted him to stay put and not walk all the way around. the sight of him briefly reminded you of when the two of you used your grandpa’s farmland to play hide and seek, running across the same fields you stood on.

“oh, i should’ve warned you about that,” jungkook started, putting a slight jog into his step as he came closer. “that garage door broke just before your grandpa passed.”

you made an exaggerated, wide-eyed expression. “broken? oh, i was just fighting the door for fun, what do you mean?” you made sure your glare intensfied when he laughed at you. “would have been great to mention before i lost years of my life trying to close this thing.”

“sorry, bunny,” jungkook replied, as he stepped past you carefully and put a hand on your arm as he did so.

he looked up at the door from the inside and smiled thinly. you mimicked his moves, trying to make out at what exactly he was inspecting. you knew farm and you knew finance, but you certainly did not know anything about repairing things.

“how did my grandpa get the tractor out if this door has been broken?”

“crop production lowered in recent years because his body couldn’t handle as much. it was a low priority repair because we used the smaller one parked out by the front shed,” jungkook explained. “honestly, it’s quick fix, just looks like the cable and rollers need to be replaced.”

you shrugged it off and checked the time. “well, this is a problem for another day.”

as you began walking off, jungkook followed you with the same pace. you genuinely did not want to have another to-do item in your sight before you were finished with the rest of the day ahead of you. a list dedicated to repairs was an idea that you’d been toying around with, but you were afraid of how overwhelming it was going to be.

“not to rain on your parade, buuut on my way, i noticed that your coop’s fencing might need to be replaced.”

it was as if he read your mind. you would’ve been frustrated, but the irony was too funny to ignore. you did notice the fencing and it was definitely already on your hypothetical repair list. as a response, you only grunted and moved along.

as you led him back into the house, the two of you made small talk. it was still odd to you, picking up a friendship where you left it off from thirteen years ago. the dynamic seemed to ease up, the more time you spent together, but you had to remind yourself that it was indeed thirteen years since you last saw jungkook and that meant thirteen years of catching up.

“so, are you off work today?” you asked, as jungkook brought in a toolbox from the porch.

jungkook set his tools down by the front shoe rack, rolling up his sleeves slightly. “kinda. i don’t really have a set work schedule, i’ve just been helping out mrs. oh whenever she needs me. i did tell her i would be busy this morning, though.”

you met remembered the oh family from when you were younger and they always gave you and jungkook free ice cream and twenty bucks each when you cleaned their store’s front windows. mr. oh was a high-ranking military general and mrs. oh owned the town general store since taking it over from her mother. their youngest son was born the last year you had visited amber valley as a child.

“their kid is old enough to man the front counter, huh?” you joked.

he chuckled. “yeah. he’s in that weird pre-teen phase, though, acting like he’s cooler than everyone and anything. he used to hang out with jiwon all the time and now his new best friend is his ps5.”

“aw, poor girl.”

“right? too bad, hope he grows out of it. you know,” jungkook paused, glancing at the picture on the wall, “they reminded me of me and you.”

the picture was of you, no older than eight, in faded overalls and the toothiest grin. it was untouched when you moved in and must have been framed sometime after you stopped visiting the town, having not recognized it when you came in. you didn’t have the heart to move it, knowing your grandpa put it up while you were gone.

you weren’t sure what to say. “i hope she’s a better behaved kid than you were,” you remarked teasingly.

“i was an angel compared to you,” jungkook shot back, rolling his eyes. “but, yeah, she’s a great kid. hardly gives me trouble. besides, anything i’ve ever needed help with? my friends, the oh family, mayor kim - i got the best support in the world.”

pride and gratitute were intertwined in jungkook’s voice, as if he watched back the last six years before his very eyes. you couldn’t even imagine what that could have looked like. he was so young, just two months younger than you, and the idea of having the responsibility over a child at your age, much less younger, was unfathomable.

you didn’t want to push the subject of jiwon too much, knowing the circumstances, but you were appreciative of how jungkook allowed himself to open up to you. you leaned on the wall, listening to him talk about his little sister and it was clear he loved her very much.

“you’re lucky to have that kind of community around you,” you said.

“it’s your community, too, now.”

you didn’t realize it, but you soon had spent a good chunk of time talking to jungkook, as he began the process of replacing your windows. there were other things you had to tend to outside, but the conversation flowed so naturally. at some point, you brewed a fresh pot of coffee and handed a mug to jungkook, interrupting his installation of what he explained was exterior stop moulding.

you were nodding your head, listening to him explain his employment situation with the oh family. “that’s real nice of you.” although jungkook had a very flexible schedule, he essentially helped with the operational portion of the store that mr. oh used to cover before he was first deployed overseas.

“thank you for the coffee - anyway, they did so much for me when i first started taking care of jiwon, of course i would lend a hand.” he took the hot cup gratefully, cautiously taking a sip. “mr. oh hasn’t always been overseas, but even when he comes back, it’s just my full-time job at this point. they pay well and mrs. oh watches jiwon when i need it.”

you replied, “if you don’t mind me asking, what were you doing before you worked at the store?”

when you were little, jungkook had always been academically gifted. he loved books and always used to brag about how he got better grades than you did. you always thought he was the type to leave amber valley and find success elsewhere.

“honestly, there wasn’t really a ‘before,’ bunny. it kinda just went from me being in high school to me having to look after my sister. i worked part-time with jimin’s family when i was a teenager, sorting fish bait, if that’s what you mean,” jungkook was trying to be light-hearted, but you felt bad.

he noted your silence and said, “remember when we were kids and we promised to go to the same university when we grew up? and you’d show me the city instead of me showing you the valley?”

“that was the plan,” you sighed. you nearly forgot about that and you could vaguely recall a pinky-swear being attached to that promise. “maybe there’s a universe where that happened.”

in a phone call sometime earlier with your mom, she casually joked that she always thought that you and jungkook were going to get married. she and his mom made that bet when you were kids, mirroring the competitive spirit passed down to the two of you. you tried imagining falling in love with jungkook on campus - study dates in the library and sneaking into each other’s dorm rooms, all while being academic rivals in the lecture hall.

the man in front of you was neither the jungkook in your youthful fantasies or the little boy that collected seashells with you. nostalgia and daydreaming were dangerous things that couldn’t be trusted. just like you, he grew up.

eventually, you declared yourself a distraction and excused yourself from the living room to take care of the rest of your chores. catching up was nice, but you thought it would be better to take it slow. checking in on jungkook every half hour, it was early in the afternoon when he was finished replacing both sets of windows.

the sun was still unforgiving and the humidity was no different. the air conditioning system in your house was mediocre at best and there was a stand fan right where jungkook was working, along with two in the living room. you came in to offer jungkook another water bottle when he excitedly showed you his finished product.

“not bad, huh?” he folded his arms across his chest.

you observed his work and shook your head, impressed. “more than ‘not bad,’ jungkook. the new panels look amazing - thank you so much. i really, really appreciate it.”

it was hard to believe that he installed brand-new windows in such a short time span and the contrast was especially stark, given how old the broken set was. you’d been prepared to pay him for his work, but he warned you earlier that he would “beat you up” if you did so. something about revenge for spending years throwing rocks at him.

he grinned, as he began gathering his tools. you were a bit sad, which confused you until you realized why. however, you decided that this unresolved attraction would best be dealt with on a day where you didn't waste almost two hours talking to the man in question. you still ended up deciding this while staring at the way his tattoos looked against his flexed muscles.

“so, i’ll come by again for the fence?”

“wait, what?” this question snapped you back into reality. the fence? you remembered what jungkook pointed out upon his arrival.

he looked at you, seemingly feigning confusion. “yeah, you said you’d let me fix the fence.”

“no, i didn’t. are you messing with me?” you narrowed your eyes at the way he slowly blinked at you.

“yeah, you said i can come by sometime in the middle of the week.”

there was no way you promised such a thing. “you brat, when did i say that?”

the conversation diverted your attention away from the way jungkook quickly bounced up and was opening the front of your door. he waved you goodbye and that he would text you before you could even process it. you made a beeline from the door, but that man was a damn fast walker.

“have a nice day, y/n!” he yelled from afar and you could hear the laughter jump out in his tone. he knew what he was doing.

from that day on, you continued finding yourself in the whirlwind that was jeon jungkook. it’d been a few weeks and about two days in each week where jungkook has paid you a visit with a different excuse of a repair to “help” you out with. though you knew it was bullshit, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes everytime he greeted you at your front door showed that he knew the same.

there was a silent agreement between the two of you that no one paid attention to when it was just the two of you in the farmhouse. even though you would have refused back and forth had jungkook actually asked if you wanted help, you took anywhere from one hour to a couple just talking to him. one of the times, he insisted he check the condition of your chimney for you. this occasion was more than obvious for the both of you, as you sat on your grandpa’s stiff, old porch bench the entire time and didn’t seem to mind.

the routine of jungkook helping you out on the farm was getting dangerous. when you packed up all of your worldly possessions and abandoned your old life, you promised yourself that this was a new chapter for yourself. there was never a man in the picture or the end goal and the last person you thought it would be was the little boy that you once called your best friend.

on the third day of jungkook’s mission to use your grandpa’s property as a level of house-flipper, you made lunch for the both of you.

“it’s really not a big deal, i ate before i came here.”

jungkook was busy smashing a rail into place with a mallet when you approached. you clutched your cardigans a little closer to yourself, as the wind outside took aback. you looked up and silver clouds muddled in the sky. it was hard to tell because of the lack of sun, but it was nearing two p.m.

“you came here in the morning!” you huffed, tapping your feet.

it was a great deal of confidence in your chest for you to think that no one was more stubborn than you were. as much as you deflected help from jungkook, you were certainly beating his level of persistence. at this point, you would just have to shove food into jungkook’s mouth for you to take it over the top.

he made an exasperated sigh. “bro, i forgot how annoying you can get.” even though jungkook stood firm with “helping” you with repairs, he was no match for your insistence.

“let’s go - chop, chop.” your voice was dry, as you took the hammer from his hand yourself.

you turned to place the hammer back into jungkook’s tool box when you felt the first kiss of a storm on your bare legs. the sky never lied. you tilted your head up to meet the clouds again, but this time, the rain was sharp and doubled, then tripled. you heard jungkook call out your name from behind you.

“this doesn’t look good, let’s go,” he said, taking the denim jacket tied around his waist. the cold sensation lightened on your back and you realized it was because he was holding the jacket between the two of you, with his right arm pulling you to his side and his left arm enveloping your body.

a clap of thunder interrupted your daze. you wondered if amber valley always stormed like this in your childhood or if you only embraced the happy, sunny parts. the town lived in your memories surrounded by dazzling waters and a rainbow, just like everything else did when you were nine.

you tried keeping up with jungkook’s pace, but your legs were failing. “can you slow down?” you panted.

jungkook couldn’t help but snort aloud. “if this was a zombie apocalypse, you’d be dead right now.” when you stomped on his foot with intention, he finally relented and slowed down for you, laughing when he did so.

the chicken coop was on the other end of the property from the farmhouse, so you were struggling for several minutes trying to make it back. the whole time, you and jungkook continued laughing at one another and cracking jokes. it made you momentarily forget your surroundings of a growing storm.

the two of you stumbled onto the back porch, up the steps and nearly fell on top of each other. jungkook tightened his arms around you when he saw that you were about to miss a step and you let out a breathy “thank you” through your giggling. he shook his head and dropped his grip when the two of you made it under the gable roof. you shivered when he did so.

“you didn’t check the weather forecast?” you wheezed, checking to see if your phone was in your pocket.

jungkook defended, “neither did you, genius.”

you two paused for a moment, before bursting out into laughter again and you looked out to see the unrelenting rain. when you looked back, you wondered if jungkook was standing this close to you the entire time. you also wondered if he could tell that you were trying not to look at the way his wet t-shirt clung to his body. daring to meet his eyes, you nearly choked on your own breath when you saw that he was looking at you, too.

his gaze lowered and then he cleared his throat. “well, that’s too bad. i was making good progress,” jungkook also turned to stare at the grey skies and flashes of lightning.

“i guess you can just come tomorrow.”

the statement surprised even yourself when it left your lips. jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, before nodding slowly and the corners of his lips quirked to form that charming, gentleman smile. you couldn’t help but turn around to hide your own smile, instead telling jungkook to stop standing outside like an idiot. the agreement was no longer silent.

x. the posters

around your newfound friends, the dynamic between you and jungkook never changed. it did leave less room for tension, though, and you saw more of the upbeat, heart-of-gold jungkook that he displayed for the rest of the world. despite that, some caught on faster than the others.

“if i knew you guys were going to bicker the entire time, i would’ve just asked someone else. seokjin literally offered. or, actually, i’m pretty sure that even jiwon would have been better than the two of you. doesn’t matter if she can’t reach up that high.”

the day prior, namjoon asked you if you and jungkook wanted to help him put up posters around town for the midsummer fair. it didn’t occur to you to question why he asked you for jungkook’s presence, but you ended up roping him into it anyway. unfortunately for namjoon, the two of you ended up arguing the entire time.

“but, i’m right. aren’t i, namjoon?” you prodded. “jungkook’s idea is horrible!”

jungkook shrugged. “why? it’s eye-catching.”

“there is no way anyone will agree to dressing up as a clown to hand out fliers. we’re going to scare the kids away.”

“tell her otherwise, future mayor kim,” jungkook said to namjoon, who groaned.

the reason why namjoon was tasked with the promotion of the midsummer fair was simply because his father told him to. it was a town event and he was always expected to lend a hand to whatever his dad needed him for. it seemed like every time he had to do something, it was all performed with reluctance.

“oh, god. don’t start, you have no idea what speech my dad gave to me earlier today about ‘being a leader,’” namjoon shook his head.

you furrowed your brows. “oh, are you planning to run for mayor soon?”

“definitely not,” namjoon instantly responded, not an ounce of hesitation in sight. “i have a master’s degree in fine arts, the last thing i want to do is be a politician.” the laugh namjoon gave was hollow.

“what we would all do to not be trapped here,” murmured jungkook and you almost missed it.

your gaze met his and quiet smiles were exchanged. there was an air of comfort grounding the two of you, now that you knew the weight behind those words and jungkook’s sacrifices. you did, however, miss the way namjoon caught this shared smile and turned around, keeping it to himself and letting the moment remain between you two only.

xi. the dancefloor

during salsa night at the saloon, jungkook seemed to be in every corner of the room except yours. it had been a few days since you last saw him, with his latest excuse for the farmhouse being chalking on your silo’s roof. you didn’t even know what that meant, but you stopped arguing the same way he stopped insisting that you didn’t have to make him food. instead, you began texting him about what time he was coming, while he began taking leftovers home, since you always “accidentally” made too much food.

you and namjoon continued to chat when jimin breezed by, plopping down beside you. he was sitting off to the side of the dancefloor the entire time, lazily sipping a beer and talking to hoseok.

“because i would embarrass everyone with my moves,” was jimin’s answer when you asked him why he wasn’t participating.

namjoon chuckled. “he sounds like he’s joking, but he’s an insane dancer.”

“it sounds like you’re good at everything, park jimin,” you teased.

“you know who’s not good at anything?” it seemed like this wasn’t his first beer of the night. “jungkook. he’s horrible at pretending to not look at you. you should go up to him, i think he wants something.”

there was a sense of confusion, but even with jimin under the influence, you also saw the way namjoon leaned back in his seat. it was as if he was relieved that someone other than himself spoke up about it. turning your head, you immediately caught jungkook’s stare, which he retracted like touching fire.

you widened your eyes. “is there something on my face?”

“no, you’re just a woman that he likes that’s wearing a nice dress,” jimin deadpanned.

“you’re a funny drunk, jimin,” you shook your head, chuckling. what he said didn’t even register in your brain.

to your side, namjoon only sighed. he stood up all of a sudden, tugging jimin in the opposite direction. you were confused even more. in a second, jungkook appeared in front of you and your words immediately left your body.

“book club over?” he asked, scanning the room to where the others dispersed off to.

bewildered at the dissolution of the club meeting, you could only shrug. you weren’t sure what even happened. then, you looked up at him and smiled.

you said, “jeon jungkook, you’re not going to embarrass me by asking me to dance, are you?”

“i would never embarrass you. i’m definitely a much better dancer than you, anyway.” jungkook winked and extended his hand, gesturing for you to join him.

without missing a beat, you grabbed his hand and got up from your seat. thankfully, the senior community of the town was loving salsa night and made up most of the crowd. you and jungkook were able to hide your horrible dancing in between the retirees going wild.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyletyle @wobblewobble822@taiwan0618 @seokout @firelcrds @xwniazx

#jungkook fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts au #bts series #jungkook imagine #bts imagines #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x oc #*** / the farmhouse.

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nyazhis-jsablr · 10 months

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Battle of the Blixers Signups!!!! (CLOSED)

“WELCOME TO THE BATTLE OF THE BLIXERS!”

“Im your host, Step, and this is the Battle of the Blixers! A competition of wits, humor, and strength to see who will win… the COOKIE OF LIFE! and also a million beat points but when does that matter?”

v INFO BELOW v

How does this contest work?

“Well, it’s simple! 10 Blixers must compete in a series of 5 challenges, and earn points over the course of all those challenges!”

“Each challenge’s submission deadline will take 3 days! The entries for each challenge can be done through Art, Comic, Writing, Animation, ETC!”

“After the deadline is up, a voting period will commence, where the audience for the best and funniest entry! I myself will also rank each entry individually, and it will add to the point total as well!”

“After all 5 challenges, the Top 3 Blixers with the highest point will move onto the final challenge, and will compete one more time for the grand prize!”

How to Sign-Up?

“Simple reblog this post with your Blixer auditioning for a spot (// ooc: like, talking to the screen and saying why they should join and stuff), and I, Step, will decide if they’re battle-worthy or not!”

“Alternatively, put the audition on a separate post with the tag #battle_of_the_blixers and mentioning @nyazhi or @nyazhis-jsablr within the post!”

“Sign-Ups will be open only for 3 days, so lookout!”

“Anyways, that’s it! I’m Step, and stay tuned for the results to see who will join the Battle of the Blixers!”

#jsab #just shapes and beats #jsab blixer #battle of the blixers

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ncfcatalyst · 1 year

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Student-run [NEW] Commencement ceremony aims to let students graduate of their own terms

As the spring semester comes to a close, a substantial portion of the current New College administration is made up of new hires, who have only been part of the community for a handful of months. With this many new faces around Cook Hall comes many new ideas on what student life and campus culture should look like. While not all of these ideas have been negatively received, others have signaled…

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#alternative commencement #commencement #commencement 2023 #graduating students #graduation #richard corcoran #student culture #student life #[new] commencement

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 5 months

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Happy Sunday, my Darlings! I have a new Feyd-Rautha/Reader chapter up! (18+ Only)

Tags for this chapter: arranged marriage; dubious consent; breeding kink; overstimulation; blood kink; period sex; pain kink; oral sex (m+ and f+ receiving); vaginal sex; Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning; problematic smut; slow emotional burn; Feyd-Rautha having the most insane recovery period; discussions of pregnancy; implied/referenced past abuse; implied/referenced self-harm

Tags and notes for this story overall and full chapter below the cut. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged when I update!

CW for the entire fic: arranged marriage; forced marriage; forced pregnancy; dubious consent; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual abuse; implied/referenced incest; sadomasochism; pain kink; rough sex; problematic smut; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; oral sex; blood kink; breeding kink; orgasm denial; eventual switching

Just as a note: this fic was going to be a lot shorter and completely plotless but that was 40k words ago and there's no end in sight, so I'm going to make some minor edits and rewrites to earlier chapters, but this story will end up factoring into the greater plot of the story.

Chapter Five: Playin' with Fire Burns a Little Bit

He keeps his word. It’s still somewhat dark outside when you wake to a hard cock against your backside and an arm wrapped around you, and you remember where you are and what happened.

Your ass doesn’t sting as much as it did last night; the more pressing matter is that Feyd-Rautha’s cock is slotted against the small of your back, just over the slope of your backside, and his arm that’s been looped around your ribcage is moving. His palm presses against your stomach. You give a soft grunt as you shift in his grasp and he raises himself up on his opposite elbow to get a good look at your face and your now-opened eyes.

“You’re awake,” he notes, voice even rougher first thing in the morning, and with that information decides to slide his hand from your ribcage to your crotch.

“You really meant it when you said first thing ,” you say, still drowsy, voice still laced with sleep.

“I have a busy schedule,” he says, rubbing down and sliding his fingertips along your slit before giving a quiet hmm as if to say, ‘ Not quite wet enough yet. Unfortunate .’ So he keeps circling your bud, nuzzling against your neck and jaw as you start to warm up, your breaths getting shorter.

When he wrings your first gasp out of you, he brings his fingertips back to your slit and gets the affirmation he wants that he’s getting you wet, enough that he can commence with his actual plans for you. In any case, you’re wide awake now.

You remind yourself that this isn’t the most depraved thing you’ve heard of on Geidi Prime. You don’t have to remind yourself that even as off-putting a concept it is, it felt great last night.

He turns you on your back and wastes no further time bringing his head between your legs. He takes just a moment to smell the blood between your thighs before he’s alternating between licking over you, wriggling his tongue inside of you, and suckling at your bud.

This time your hands are free to explore, to press against the back of his neck and scratch along his shoulders and biceps, to cup your own breasts to add to the stimulation until he covers them with his own.

He’s good at this , you realize, head falling back against the covers, hips arching up, and you have no frame of reference, no comparison for this, so it’s just a feeling. You’re pretty sure he likes this, likes the way you taste perhaps in part because of the blood coming out of you, and you’re willing to set aside how morbid that is if he keeps this up. You pant and moan, unconsciously grinding against his mouth and he lets you, lets you grip the back of his head as your breath comes in harsh and your entire body flushes hot. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence if your life depended on it.

Your whimpers turn into a warning, one that he ignores as he keeps going, pulling back only to spit on his thumb and bring it to your bud as he presses his tongue back inside of you. He doesn’t let up, either, when you shake and come, trembling against his mouth. If anything it spurs him on, giving you too much.

You wish he had hair so you could tug on it to pull him away and give you a moment to cool down. You’ve never just kept on going after coming and it’s too much, it’s too intense. And that, apparently, is the idea because he keeps your hips pulled to him, his face still buried in between your legs. You groan, frustrated, knocking your head back against your pillow as your hips clench and you give another spasm.

He rocks his hips against the bed, devolving into grunts and moans against your sensitive skin, like this might be what sends him over the edge, too. Not that you realize it yet but he actually could. If he chose to, he could let the friction between his cock and the sheets below him get him there. But that would be a waste of his seed that he’s bent on spilling inside of you.

So after a minute he pulls away so he can sit up and flip you onto your stomach, pulls you up by your hips, and takes a moment to look at the remnants of the damage he did last night. It must be still sufficiently red and look as tender as it feels because he wastes no time squeezing the cheeks of your ass, probably smirking at your responding pained whine.

He chose this position on purpose, you realize. You’re still sore from last night, and you’ll feel the sting of his hips slapping against your ass, especially at the punishing pace he often sets. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he quickly, wordlessly, assures you this morning’s no different.

When he makes a ponytail out of your hair and tugs, spurred on by the noises you’re making, you wonder about the collars in the armoire. Are those because women on Geidi Prime don’t have hair to pull? Or will he use those collars on you, too?

He starts talking; a little unusual for him, since he doesn’t normally talk while he’s inside of you, but the words spill out of his chest in his gravely timbre. You just have no idea what he’s saying, it’s all guttural Harkonnen battle language that you haven’t learned yet.

You barely manage to hold your upper body upright, and you’re sure that’s mostly because of Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hair. He stops talking altogether and his speech devolves back into grunts and growls with each snap of his hips that almost drown out your moans and whimpers.

And then it’s done, he comes, one hand clutching your hip and the other still buried in your hair. For a few moments he stays there, still holding you onto him as he begins to soften, then he moves his hand from your hair to your stomach, coaxing you up until your back aligns with his chest. He breathes in, shifting his hand upwards until it curls loosely around your neck, which you turn in alarm to try and face him. Your blood is quickly drying, tacky and dark, on his mouth as he tilts his head and presses those blood-stained lips to yours. He only gives your neck the lightest of squeezes, a reminder of what he’s capable of but not a real threat, before moving his hand to your breast, palming it roughly. He keeps at it, kissing and fondling every exposed part of you he can reach until he gets hard again and you gasp at the feel of it, him filling out and stiffening inside of you once more.

Is this…normal? It can’t be, right? You’d probably have heard about it if it was.

He’s not a normal man , you have to remind yourself.

He took you in this position a couple of nights ago, when he had you brace your hands against the headboard as he fucked you, but right now the headboard’s too far away and so you rely on him holding you onto him, one of your hands reaching behind you to grab his hip as the other rubs down against your bud, your cries high and reedy as your fingers brush so close to where he’s pistoning in and out of you. His grunts and growls against your ear grow ragged; you half-expect him to snap his jaws and sink his teeth into your neck for the animalistic way he fucks you, like being inside of you makes him an even baser and more primitive creature. It makes you rub harder, feeling helpless to do anything else.

He lets you come this time.

For a full minute afterwards, he holds you to him, his breath going from panting back to normal, his pulse slowing back down, before he wordlessly tilts your hips forward and coaxes you on to your front before pulling out of you. You shut your eyes for a moment, hearing the telltale sounds of him padding over to the bathroom and take a moment to readjust yourself, shifting to lie on your side, waiting for him to come out.

When he does, his face and cock have been cleaned off and he heads for the dresser, and you’re about to get up to use the bathroom for yourself when he starts talking.

“I’ll grab you again in three hours for breakfast,” he says as he reaches into his drawers for clothes to train in. “When you didn’t show up yesterday my uncle was concerned that I may have been too much for you and wanted to verify that you’re still in one piece.”

“Was he really?” you ask. The best opinion the Baron seems to have of you is one of polite indifference; an adequate broodmare for the Harkonnen line.

“Harkonnen men can get overzealous,” he says. “He wants to make sure that I’m taking care of my new bride.”

That’s one way to put it , you think, shifting again to sit on the edge of the bed. It’s an effort, and even though the sheets are soft you can’t help but wince at the feeling of them against your well-used backside.

“Fine. I might get an hour or two of sleep before then.” You could certainly use it; your husband has certainly proved his stamina and energy in bed.

He glances over at you as he reaches for a training shirt. “I’m going to have a door installed connecting your quarters to mine. It’ll make it easier for us to meet at night,” he says, as if it wasn’t already easy. “Save us the trouble of having to get dressed before and afterwards.”

You could almost laugh. It would figure that’s his reasoning.

“Alright, I’ll be up in just a second.”

You’re a little surprised he’s not openly smug about how he wears you out. You’d almost expect him to joke about how hard it is to keep up with him, but he must realize he doesn’t have to. The way your legs shake a little as you walk over to your discarded clothing, the way you wince as you bend over to pick them up, speak for themselves. He does watch you, though, the rest of his clothes momentarily forgotten, as if trying to commit the sight of you to memory before you leave.

**********

You manage to get another hour’s sleep in which you quickly realize that sleeping on your back is out of the question for now.

Idrisa comes in shortly after you wake up to bring you water and coffee and prepare a bath for you. You’re so grateful for it that you could cry, hissing as the water hits your backside.

Idrisa peers in, concerned. “Everything alright, Na-Baroness?” she asks.

You look over at her. “Would you be so kind as to get me a glass of water and one of those menstrual pain tablets?” you ask.

**********

You finish getting ready just in time for the Na-Baron to greet you in what you’ve gathered is his typical politician’s attire; black, clearly high-end and well-tailored material to show off his form. Too formal to train in but fitted for ease of movement. He has a holster on his thigh that holds a knife in its scabbard.

He gives you his arm for you to take; it’s almost whiplash how he oscillates between fucking you like a beast and having you on his arm like a courtly gentleman, but you accept and stroll down the hall together in silence for a moment.

He looks ahead as he says, “It’s going to be uncomfortable for you to sit down for a couple of days.”

“I figured that out earlier, but thank you,” you say.

“He’s going to notice and he’s going to bait you. Don’t acknowledge it. Getting flustered will just add fuel to the fire,” he adds.

“ You like seeing my discomfort,” you tell him.

His jaw tightens. He opens his mouth enough to run his tongue–strangely pink despite everything else being black–over his teeth before he clicks his tongue against them. “I like it for my own amusement, not his,” he says.

You reach the Dining Hall, with a spread being set out. It’s already too much food for three people, but with the Baron it’s unlikely that it’ll go to waste.

You stop and curtsy as Feyd-Rautha pulls your chair out for you.

“Good morning, Baron,” you say, face downcast, waiting for him to give you a nod before you sit down.

Feyd wasn’t lying, sitting in a chair’s even worse than sitting on a bed. You try not to shift around to get more comfortable; you just know that they’re going to notice.

“I suppose you’re still adjusting to Geidi Prime and married life?” the Baron asks you. You know he really means, Still adjusting to getting railed by my nephew, eh? Can’t say I’m surprised; I’ve heard that he’s hung like a donkey.

“Yes, Baron. It is getting easier, though. Everyone’s been accommodating,” you tell him as you take a sip of juice and avoid looking directly at him. He can probably sense your dislike despite your best efforts to be polite and deferential. He probably doesn’t care. He probably likes that you have to simper and fawn over how gracious he is when you wish you never had to speak to him.

“The relaxation chambers are still at your disposal, if you’ve changed your mind,” he says.

“Thank you, Baron, that’s an excellent idea.” And it is, much as you hate to admit it. All that worries you is the idea of anyone but you, Feyd, and Idrisa knowing that there’s no way that you’re pregnant yet. You’ll have to investigate first and see how bad the risk is of exposure. If word got back to the Baron…you’re certain he would be less thrilled than his nephew.

Conversation quickly turns to Arrakis. Since regaining it from the house of Atreides Rabban apparently has been struggling to overpower Fremen rebels. You’re a little taken aback that they’d be willing to discuss this in front of you and realize that it’s because you have no one to talk to about this anyways. The Atreides have been all but exterminated, not that you really knew any of them in the first place. Even Father was shocked to see how swiftly they met their end when it happened.

The Fremen, it turns out, are another story. It’s not a surprise that they can match the Harkonnens in brutality; they’re the only ones who inhabit a planet just as hostile and unforgiving as Geidi Prime and they’ve found ways to adapt to Arrakis that the Harkonnens haven’t needed to before.

“We’re going to need to train our men harder,” Feyd-Rautha says. “We’ve allowed ourselves to get complacent when we can’t afford to. The Sardaukar army helped us win back Arrakis; we need to hold ourselves to their standards. Until then, Rabban needs to stop trying to ply his ego with direct combat and use aerial strikes instead.”

The Baron looks up from his food and sits back for a moment, considering his nephew’s words with a small smile. See, this is why you’re my successor and not him, he seems to think, even when their conversation leads elsewhere. It’s the look of a man who’s playing a game he has yet to reveal, and it sticks with you for the remainder of breakfast.

What else does he have planned for his nephew?

******

Feyd-Rautha walks with you out of the Dining Hall, still playing the courtly married man, taking your hand on his arm as you pass slaves and soldiers alike who lower their heads in deference. It’s going to take some getting used to. He apparently has a meeting to attend, though, as he escorts you back to your quarters.

“I’ll see you this evening,” he says, with no need for innuendo.

And so it continues for a few days. At night he takes you into his own bedchambers, tastes you until you nearly weep from the overstimulation, fucks you until you’re sore and shaking, sleeps with you, and wakes you up early the next morning to do it all again before he leaves to train. You save your energy during the day by staying more sedentary than you’re used to, remaining in the library or your quarters and listening to recorded lessons of basic Harkonnen words and phrases. Your pronunciation when you try to mimic the guttural tones is laughable, but you put in an effort. You’ll save the relaxation chambers for when you start training.

The fourth night, before he buries his face between your legs, he has you do the same to him; has you kneel as he sits on the edge of the bed and pushes his cock into the confines of your mouth.

“ You’ll learn to take everything, ” he tells you, one hand buried in your hair as he pushes you down farther than you’ve managed before, until tears spill out of the corners of your eyes and the noises your mouth makes around him sound utterly obscene. He lets you brace your hands on his legs and it’s between then and when he pulls you off of him to bring you up into bed that you notice something. The scars on his inner thigh have an uneven mirror; there are scars on his other thigh, as well, along an invisible inseam, but they don’t match. Those other scars look shorter and like they run deeper. It’s yet another question you’re sure you won’t get to ask anytime soon. Before he devours you, though, he cups your chin in his hand and looks over your tear-stained cheeks and lips puffy from sucking his cock with unrestrained lust.

“What is it about me like this, husband?” you ask, after it’s done and he’s come inside of you. You’re both naked, sprawled, and spent in his bed. The blood’s been lighter and lighter and soon you imagine these visits will go back to just the evenings. “Do you only like tasting women when we’re like this?”

He looks over at you and draws one arm behind his head. “Not only then,” he says. “But I like enjoying something other men are too weak to even attempt.”

You wait for him to continue his explanation, but he doesn’t. You’ve been continuously worn out and sore since your wedding night, but there’s something pleasant in your ache. Perhaps it’s just your body getting used to being thoroughly debauched on a regular basis for the first time in your life, but there’s also a part of you that’s starting to enjoy it.

“It’s time,” he adds. “To start training you. It can’t last long so it will have to be comprehensive.”

“I already have training,” you tell him.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says. “Tomorrow morning.”

You consider this. “Fine. Do I sleep here tonight or in my room?”

He gives it a moment’s thought. “Yours.”

You’ve been sleeping with him the past four nights; you suppose it had to end eventually. You’re surprised at how easy it was to fall asleep next to him even with the early mornings.

“Now?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation as business-like as possible. It’s just easier that way; to shut off any impression that you want intimacy from him that he simply can’t provide. You’re pretty sure it’s impossible for him.

He looks over at you, considering. “In a few minutes,” he decides. “I’m not sure if I want to go again tonight or not.”

As it turns out, he doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you a few times, his eyes-half-lidded as his gaze goes up and down the length of your body. When you meet his gaze he looks back at you as if to say, What? Am I not allowed to look at my own wife?

He finally tells you what hour he wants you up. “Get a good night’s rest,” he adds. “You’ll need it.”

He sits up to watch you as you rise from bed, padding naked over to his dresser. He stares unapologetically at your form as you get dressed and leave for your quarters. Construction for the door connecting your bathroom to his is almost complete, and soon you won’t need to leave your quarters to meet him in his.

********

Idrisa wakes you up early.

“My apologies, my Lady, but the Na-Baron wants you to meet him in the Training Halls before breakfast,” she says, holding a pair of flat boots and a couple of other garments in her arms. “He has this for you to wear,” she adds, setting the boots on the floor and everything else on the dresser. “Your coffee is on the desk. He’s given you half an hour to get ready and wants you to bring your dagger.”

You blink, trying to take in what she’s saying before rubbing the heel of your palm against your eyelid. Right. The training.

“Would you like any assistance, or would you like me to wait by the door?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you say, wondering for a moment if Feyd-Rautha was preparing you to get up this early for the past few days knowing that you’d be training with him.

Probably not. I think he just wanted to fuck in the mornings too .

You sip your coffee before plaiting your hair and taking a look at the clothes your new husband wants you to wear.

It's a practical training outfit; you're pretty sure that Geidi Prime doesn't make training clothes for women, and that he had this commissioned for you given that it fits better, especially in the hips, than you expected. Women on Geidi Prime don’t serve in combat, much like your own planet and if there’s any formal training for women you haven’t heard about it yet.

You manage to make it to the Training Halls in time but still not feeling fully awake.

Feyd-Rautha senses you from the moment you enter, even at the farthest end of the room. It occurs to you that you haven’t seen him in something as innocuous as training gear yet; simple trousers and boots, a fitted but breathable black shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, a holster strapped to his thigh. If it weren’t for his bearing he could almost blend into his surroundings.

“Good morning, Na-Baron,” you tell him with a polite incline of your head, figuring that his most formal title would be best to address him in front of the very men he’s meant to lead. You imagine that you make an unusual match for him as it is given how unambiguously foreign you are.

“Good, you’re here,” he says. His tone is casual, light; in front of his men, you may as well be an acquaintance. “We have a lot to cover, but today my main agenda today is to see your skill level as it is now. When we first met you said you were out of practice. How long has it been since you’ve sparred?”

You try to think. “It’s been about eight months since I’ve done anything,” you admit.

“And when did you start?” he asks.

“Age fifteen,” you tell him.

“And how often would you train?” he asks.

“About an hour, two or three times a week,” you tell him.

He looks both unsurprised and unimpressed with this new information. Instead he takes a small, black device from the waistband of his pants and holds it up. “Have you used one of these before?” You immediately recognize it as a shield activator.

“I have, Na-Baron,” you tell him. “During fighting lessons.”

“Good. You’ll be using one for all of our sessions, just in case.” He hands it over to you to clip onto your own waistband before he signals to another man who’s slight of build and several inches shorter than him. The man strides over to you and lowers his head in deference.

“Na-Baroness,” he says.

“This is Korvo,” Feyd-Rautha says. “He’ll make a suitable opponent,” he says, looking you both over as if to confirm that the two of you are in a similar enough weight class. “Which are you more familiar with? Knife or dagger?”

“I would say the dagger,” you tell him.

“Then I’ll start you off with the knife,” he says. “Start with mid-range fighting and work from there.”

“Alright,” you say, looking over at Korvo, who finally raises his head to look you in the eye. They’re dark brown; there’s a scar along where one of his eyebrows would be. His expression is entirely neutral; if he has a single opinion about you, you’d have no idea. It’s been a week since the wedding and you still don’t know how any of Harkonnen's subjects feel about you.

Feyd-Rautha pulls a knife from one of many lining the walls and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the handle. He releases it immediately, watching you adjust it in your hand.

“How’s the grip?” he prompts.

“Fine, thank you,” you tell him, glancing over at him before he steps back to a safe distance, and turning your attention back to your opponent as you turn on your shields and settle into position. Korvo does the same, staying still until you both hear Feyd-Rautha’s voice give the simple command, “ Go. ”

You circle each other, and you try to remember your footwork, trying not to cross one leg in front of the other, keeping your stance guarded.

Korvo waits, letting you get nervous as you keep expecting him to make the first move. He makes no offense until you finally think, Oh, get on with it, and lunge first.

For a minute Korvo seems to let you get reacquainted with the practice; one of you strikes, the other blocks, still circling each other. You remember to play to your strengths, which you’ve been told is your form and your flexibility.

So far so good, you think as you block a blow to your shoulder. Then he sweeps his leg, nearly tripping you, and you realize that you haven’t been paying enough attention to his footwork, too preoccupied with his upper body. You startle and recover, regaining your balance just in time for him to swipe, and he’s closer than you realized. When did he get this close?

Too fast! you think, gasping as you try to lean back, as Korvo’s knife swipes just under your breasts, your ribcage protected only by your shield that reverberates with the resistance so hard that your teeth chatter.

“One,” Feyd-Rautha says. He sounds like he’s moving to get a better view as you and Korvo progress. You try to tune him out, inhaling sharply, before finding an opening at your opponent’s left side and lunging.

You’re proud of yourself for about two seconds in which your knife meets Korvo’s shield, even as the humming of it reverberates in your bones. Korvo counters with a knock of his forearm against yours with a force that knocks you off balance again before you realize that he’d been holding back. There’s a mechanical coldness in his eyes as he moves. You can only counter and have no time to lunge or attack, just trying to keep up with the barrage of swipes as he gains on you, forcing you back, before he lunges.

You stumble and trip, falling flat on your ass and in the blink of an eye Korvo’s on top of you, his blade at your heart, and you scream.

Were it not for your shield you’d be dead , you think as you stare, panting and wide-eyed up at the man who’s far more lethal than his appearance would suggest.

He immediately withdraws the knife. “Na-Baroness,” he says, tone apologetic, as he offers you a hand to guide you up. You’re just glad you fell on the flesh of your backside and not your tailbone. You hadn’t realized it was happening, too caught up in your work with Korvo, but people are watching you.

Of course people are watching; you’re new, you’re unfamiliar, and you’re the future Baroness. You sense their gazes on you but you ignore the embarrassed flush and turn to look over at Feyd-Rautha. It’s been a while since you’ve practiced this, and longer still since you felt so out of your depth.

He considers you, head tilted, arms crossed, as he looks between you and Korvo. Finally he speaks, stepping in closer to you both. “Alright, you have some decent baseline form and technique but you still need to reacquaint yourself, especially with speed and footwork. Korvo will continue to train you.

“Speaking of which,” he turns and immediately punches the man hard in the stomach and as the man drops, raises a knee to spike him in the jaw. You recoil at the sickening crunch.

“For scaring my wife,” he explains to the man now crumpled on the floor.

“ Was that necessary? ” you demand, voice cracking.

“He’ll be fine,” Feyd says. “We have Healers for anything broken, and I can help you with the rest of our session today. I’ll test out your skills with that cute little letter-opener you keep hidden in your boot.” He grabs another shield activator from a nearby table and clips it on.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Korvo slowly getting up and spitting a small wad of blood onto the floor before shuffling to his feet. An attendant quickly comes to his aid and escorts him from the Halls. You look down, not wanting to see whatever Feyd-Rautha may have done to his mouth or jaw.

“Now I’m going to want to get an idea of where you stand with the dagger,” Feyd-Rautha says, getting your attention again, holding out his hand for you to hand over the knife, which, once he has back, he hands over to another attendant to set amongst the others.

“Let’s see it,” he says when he turns, nodding at your boot.

You haven’t pulled it out of its holster since your last lesson eight months ago. You’ve been carrying it around with you more as a good-luck charm rather than a weapon since then. You pull up your pant-leg to unclip it and draw it out. It’s a very pretty blade, if you do say so yourself. The handle was made with a woman’s sensibilities in mind. Feyd-Rautha waits for you to unclip it from its holster and tilts his head when he sees it.

“Ornamental,” he says.

“Still functional,” you tell him as you hand it over and watch him twirl it in his hand and examine the blade. It was designed specifically for you, so it’s almost baffling how deftly his larger fingers twirl it with such ease. He looks at it as if it shares deeply guarded secrets about you before looking back at you.

"The dagger's close range," he says, as if you didn't already know. “What were you taught about evasion and disarming techniques?”

“In the event of an ambush, don't rely on brute strength, don't hesitate, and don't bother trying to fight honorably. It’s not a duel; they're not looking for a fair fight, either.”

“Good. Let’s start with disarming techniques,” he says. “In case you’re caught unarmed or unable to reach your weapon.”

The first exercise is easier; it’s one of the first things you’ve ever learned, the way to grab his wrist and pinch the flesh of his palm. This is familiar, and you ease back into the confidence you’d had earlier. After a few goes of it, Feyd-Rautha watching your form, decides to move on–you have no doubt that he’ll come back to this, go faster, go meaner. This all seems to be a diagnostic, something he can use to gauge your potential.

“Alright, you get the concept,” he says. “Let’s move on to disarming an opponent who’s behind you.”

Fine . You assume nothing will phase you quite as much as sparring with Korvo earlier as you get back into a neutral stance, waiting for the tell-tale signs of moving feet, but instead you feel the long, chiseled lines of your husband’s chest and stomach against your back, his free arm wrapped around your ribcage, and your own dagger at your neck. Or rather, you feel the hum of both of your shields vibrate at the contact.

Oh. This kind of close range . You inhale sharply. You don’t need to see Feyd-Rautha’s face to see the unrestrained delight in his eyes.

“Nervous?” he asks.

Exposed . Your pulse quickens. He hasn’t done anything, he’s fully dressed. His hand is on your ribcage, not your breasts or between your legs, but you feel like the two of you shouldn’t be doing this with other people around. They have their own training to get through, of course, but they’re noticing. Even as they keep their heads down and try not to stare, they’re paying attention. They’re probably wondering how you take the Na-Baron's cock inside of you each night.

The vibration of his shield merging with yours doesn’t help.

You take a breath and twist in his arms before he tightens his hold.

“Sloppy work,” he says.

You would argue in your defense that your previous instructors for this weren’t men who’ve been inside of you or licked your pussy until you screamed from the nerve-shattering pleasure of it. It’s more distracting this way.

He starts the position again, his front against your back as he presses the dagger just up against your shield, the hum of it so close to your throat it gives off an almost-purring sound.

Do you like being pressed up against me? you want to ask.

He answers before you get the chance. “I changed my mind. I’ll instruct your close range fighting personally.”

You could laugh, but instead you simply reach behind you, grabbing his crotch and twisting hard–with the shield it won’t hurt him in the slightest, but you were told it was one of the most effective ways to disarm a male opponent.

He snorts and presses the tip of your dagger further against your neck. “Should’ve known you’d go there, pet,” he murmurs in your ear. “It’s not always a reliable technique.”

He’s aroused. You can feel the outline of his cock straining against his trousers as it presses against you.

“Try again,” he says.

*********

Two hours later you’re worn out and beset with what you’re sure will become bruises. So, all in all a very typical two hours with your groom.

You part ways so you can each shower, change, and reconvene for breakfast.

“Unless you’re actually sick or he’s elsewhere, my uncle wants you to attend breakfast and dinner with him as a sign of respect,” Feyd-Rautha tells you. “But you’re free to do as you wish and go where you like during the day.”

That freedom would sound more appealing if you enjoyed going outside, but you still get short of breath easily every time you go out under that black sun, so that means more research, more time listening to language recordings, and more time re-learning everything you forgot plus everything you hadn’t realized you didn’t learn about self-defense.

But today you end up re-reading from books you brought from your old home and writing letters to each of your family members. You write to them about learning basic battle language, about how your husband has recently taken the liberty of teaching you what he knows about self-defense to build on what you’ve already learned. You ask them about the weather, about your friends, about how their lives have changed since you last saw them. It feels far longer than a week. You ask about the stars, about the natural light displays. Your planet has a beautiful night sky. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’ll see it again one day, even if it’s not as soon as you’d like.

Feyd-Rautha’s as polite and restrained towards you at dinner as he always is in his uncle’s presence. During your meals together he seems detached, almost indifferent to you when you’re pretty sure he’s not. He doesn’t show an ounce of warmth but always pulls your chair out for you and waits until you’re seated to sit down himself.

You find that you prefer it; you don’t want the Baron to get so much of a glimpse of the carnality of your marriage and the way his nephew takes you apart with enthusiasm that’s almost frightening.

The only indication that Feyd gives of his interest in you is when you’re both leaving the Dining Hall and he stops to mutter in your ear, “Tonight I’ll come to your chambers instead.”

You think about how he’d gotten hard during practice. When you’re getting ready for the night’s rendezvous you wonder if he took care of it himself in the bathroom later that morning or if he decided to hold off until he could unleash his pent-up lust on you.

You get your answer when you’re in only your robe.

“Your husband, the Na-Baron,” Idrisa says, eyes downcast, as she opens the door for him. He’s barefoot, in just a pair of trousers he quickly undoes, and it’s clear both that he’s already hard and that he’s wearing nothing underneath. Your eyes widen.

Idrisa’s still in the room! you want to snap at him. She doesn’t want to see you like this!

Instead you watch as he steps out of his trousers and hands them off to Idrisa without a word or a look back at her. She inclines her head, accepts the garment, and turns to neatly fold it and place it on top of the dresser.

“Thank you, Idrisa, you are relieved,” you tell her, and she inclines her head and leaves after a soft, ‘ Thank you, Na-Baroness .’ You drop your robe, standing beside the bed as he comes closer. You look at each other for a moment. He raises his browline at your wide eyes.

“Is this another test?” you ask finally.

“Just something new,” he says. He glances towards the bed and back at you. Go on, get in , he seems to say.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide into bed, sitting up with your hands braced behind you as you wait for him to follow, unsure what position he’ll want you in.

As it turns out, you’re exactly where he wants you. You feel the dip of the mattress as he gets in, planting one knee in between your legs, then the other, before descending upon you. He leans in and you lean back, letting your head hit the pillows as he braces himself above you and latches his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking what you’re sure will be little pink and red marks that his men will notice tomorrow when you train.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for hours,” he says. “I was nearly about to fuck you in the Training Halls during our session.”

“There were other people there,” you tell him.

“I could’ve told them to leave,” he says, in a tone that suggests he wouldn’t have cared either way. “Next time I might. And then I’ll pull down your pants and claim you on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to give you a rebuttal before he kisses you fiercely and you can’t help but respond in kind, as spent as you feel.

You cry out, back arching at the first full thrust of him inside of you, and he smiles.

Oh yeah , he seems to think. I’d make sure everyone can hear the noises I draw out of you . He braces one arm beside your head, holds your hip with his free hand as he normally does at first when he’s taking you in this position. He watches your face, your breasts and the movement of them as he rocks into you, his mouth open as he slides his hand from his hip to the small of your back. And then he sits up on his haunches, taking you with him. You gasp, a high-pitched moan spilling out of you at the change of angles. You scramble to get your knees under you in time as he continues thrusting upwards, one arm around your back and his other hand still clutching your hip.

“Ah!” you manage, sliding down onto him. It’s the most leverage you’ve gotten with him, making you gasp and whine as you hold onto him; it’s the most he’s really let you move and it comes instinctively. He lets you take over the rhythm that he started as you roll your hips on top of him and clutch at his back.

In a sense it feels almost like you’re the one fucking him, him rocking up to meet your movements and his hands on your hips encouraging you. The heat grows faster this way, with the angle and the friction and the way he eases up and follows your pace, his harsh breath against your ear as you keep thinking about how you want to kiss him but your gasps and moans against the open air are too much for you to collect yourself enough for that. The desperate noises that he pulls out of you, that you pull out of yourself, spill from you without thought, louder than his own grunts and growls. You just keep moving, faster and harder, your nipples stiff and your entire body flushed as your body chases after your release.

I’m close. I’m so close , you want to tell him if only you could speak. Instead you find a spot at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and lean down to bite down as you keep grinding down on him. That’s the moment that does it for him, and you gasp, rocking down onto him one last time as he comes within you. Your hips jerk and stutter as you feel him painting your insides and remove your mouth from his neck with a sloppy lick and try to find your bearings. You’re still on top of him, he’s still inside of you, you’re both panting and you wonder if he feels as close to delirious as you do. You’re still hot, still pulsing, and give a closed-mouth whine as you squirm on top of him. C’mon, please , you want to tell him. I was almost there .

He presses his forehead against yours, panting against your mouth, before with a snarl he grabs your hips to hold you still and brings his thumb down to where you’re joined. It takes only a few passes, especially when he brings his mouth just under your ear.

You come around him, shutting your eyes around the intensity and digging your nails into his shoulders; you’re starting to grow them longer for this very purpose.

He holds onto you, his forehead resting against your shoulder. He stays inside of you as he wraps one arm around your back, uses his free hand to clutch your hip as you readjust for the second time and he lowers you back down on the bed.

You assume that once you hit the mattress again that he’ll pull out and pull away but he doesn’t; he pulls his hand out from under you but otherwise stays where he is, buried inside of you and draping over you to rest his head against your sweat-damp collarbone. It’s like he’s sinking into you, laying on you, still inside of you even as he’s going soft. It feels oddly nice. Like he’s finding a home within you. As if the two of you are actually coupled by choice rather than mandate. Even the weight of him on top of you feels somehow reassuring.

You absently stroke his back and wonder what he’d look like with hair. What color would it be? What texture? He has long eyelashes, but there’s little else to go off of.

“Is my hair going to fall out?” you wonder aloud after a moment. It’s a reasonable question to have; none of your body hair has grown in again, not even a hint of stubble.

Feyd-Rautha pauses and raises himself up on one forearm to look at you properly, perhaps trying to figure out if there’s an implied insult in your question.

“I just wonder how all of that works here,” you tell him.

“You can’t lose something that never grows in the first place,” he says. “People born on Geidi Prime never grow any as long as they’re living here.”

You frown as you run your fingertips along the back of his head. “But you weren’t born on Geidi Prime, either. I looked it up; you were born on Lankiveil.”

“When I came here I was ordered to have everything shaved off,” he says. “None of it ever grew back.”

You consider this, enjoying the tenderness he’s letting you show him for now. “Is that why you have eyelashes?” you ask, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. There’s the faint memory of freckles on his cheeks; it makes you wonder what his pigment would be on a planet with a proper sun.

“Yes. He didn’t think removing them was necessary,” he says, not needing to specify who ‘he’ is, and his tone is clear: I don’t want to talk about my uncle while I’m still inside of you .

Fair enough. He sinks back down, content to forget the entire conversation, and you drop it, but because this is the first time since you’ve met that you truly feel comfortable with him, you keep talking.

“What was it like on Lankiveil?” you ask him.

He gives an irritated huff. “Why,” he says.

“Just curious,” you say. “The climate sounds a lot like my planet. I grew up surrounded by water, too.”

He sighs, his chest expanding. “Then there’s not much to tell you, now is there,” he says again, voice flat. After a moment, “Even if you were blind and deaf you could smell that you were on an ocean planet just from the salty air. It was cold, damp, dark.”

“ Hmmm .” There are so many questions you want to ask. Did you like it, though? What did you like about it? Have you ever missed it? Were you happy back then? Did you love the family you’ve lost? Have you ever tried going back? You won’t ask them, not anytime soon and potentially not ever. “It’s not a smell you ever think you’ll miss,” you say instead, both hands absently stroking his back and shoulders in no particular pattern.

“Didn’t say I missed it,” Feyd says immediately.

“I do, though.” You already miss the sounds of the ocean crashing against the rocks and stormy sunsets over the rolling tide. Geidi Prime has nothing. It’s a wasteland devoid of life, devoid of seasons. You try not to think about that, and instead the new information Feyd-Rautha’s given you.

Your children will be hairless . You’d implicitly assumed, but it paints a more vivid picture of what to expect.

“You miss home already?” he asks.

Of course I do. Geidi Prime's atmosphere is overwhelming and you're far away from your family. Idrisa’s the only friend you've made and she's obligated to spend time with you. Of course I'd rather be home than here.

But you're not about to tell him that right now, not while you’re the closest thing to content that you’ve felt since you landed. “It’s just what I’m familiar with,” you tell him. “I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

He finally slides out of you as he raises his head again, and you can’t place his expression, but you’re struck with a thought as you bring one hand to his face.

I really want to kiss you right now.

You almost do, and maybe he can see it in your face. You’re not sure how you’re looking at him but he blinks, looking at first your eyes and then your lips, and before you can lean up he gets up, slides out of bed, and pads over to your bathroom. You turn to your side to watch him go, to see his shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, the slope of his ass, and those long legs and how even when soft his cock hangs between them. Tomorrow construction will be complete and your quarters will be connected to his.

Given his abrupt departure to the bathroom, when he returns you expect him to pull on his trousers and leave, but instead he slides back into bed alongside you without a word.

He settles for a moment, turning to face you. He seems thoughtful for a moment.

“Even with the protections you have, it would reflect poorly on me and the Fortress if we had you training while you’re showing, if you’re not pregnant already,” he says.

“I’m no Bene Gesserit,” you tell him. “I can’t tell if I’m pregnant yet, can’t control or predict the sex of the baby–”

“I wouldn’t want a Bene Gesserit wife,” he says. “I can barely tolerate them as is. That’s not the point. We train you as well as we can for the limited time you have.

“But while we're talking about the Bene Gesserit, they will be visiting in three weeks for my birthday. They'll be able to sniff out right away if you're pregnant or not.”

“Given the rate that we’ve been going, that won’t be an issue,” you tell him.

He looks down at your stomach, as if picturing how soon it’s going to swell with his progeny. “Training to be a warrior starts early,” he says. “I was seven when I began and that was later than normal, so I had to work harder than the others to make up for lost time.

“This is not an easy planet to grow up on, so the training is necessary. Especially with Arrakis. We’ve been in conflict for decades and it’s only gotten more severe.”

“Spice production isn’t your only means of industry,” you tell him. What Geidi Prime lacks in vegetation it makes up for in fuel and minerals that get heavily mined.

“Maybe not, but it’s our most lucrative, and until we find a different planet with as much spice as Arrakis, we won’t end our occupation there. In any case, we need to remind the Fremen of our might. I want to build my troops to be the most powerful in the universe. That’s what our children are meant to inherit. That’s what I want to lead and for our son to take over after I’m gone.”

After I’m gone .

Within ten minutes he takes you again, against your headboard as he holds you up, hands under your ass and your legs wrapped around his hips. He mounts you like you’re an animal he killed for sport and hung up on his wall as he murmurs something in Harkonnen battle language against your neck and all you can make out are my woman and something about his semen. He controls the pace this time, fucking you up the length of the headboard as you hold onto him, moaning and panting.

Afterwards you lay side by side, and you look over at him as he starts to doze off, one arm across his ribcage, the other behind his head, one leg bent at the side. His lashes flutter closed. He looks peaceful. He'd be blond, you realize. His lashes are fair so his hair would be some shade of blond. Or rather, he was blond, once.

Perhaps he’d be too beautiful with hair and a normal mouth, you think. Maybe the strange appearance is another layer of armor. The teeth certainly are; he must dye them with some kind of charcoal.

“What,” he says again, his tone annoyed even as he doesn’t open his eyes.

“Nothing,” you say simply, and turn away. When you’ve slept together it’s been with his chest against your back. Neither of you have discussed it, but you both seem to prefer it.

As you drift off you picture a version of him with more pigmentation; sun-kissed skin sprinkled with more freckles; wavy blond hair and tawny eyebrows, a white-toothed smile. A version of him almost too pretty to look at, in a life he was never going to have.

**********

You wake up as the early morning trickles in a sickly gray from the window.

Feyd’s turned away from you at some point during the night and it registers as odd, not having the already-familiar sensation of the warmth of his body against your back and his cock nestled against you. You blink, turning around, and seeing that his back is turned towards you. For some reason his scars look worse in the morning light. Your pink little scratches and bite-marks will fade soon and be replaced by others; the lash-marks will probably never go away.

You reach out, fingertips skimming his back. The unmarred skin is so soft, stretched over the sinewy muscle, that the raised skin of his scars feels like a road map of what he’s quick to endure. You wonder about the scars along his inner thighs, if he’d let you touch them. You think about how you’d like to, how you’d like to explore more of his body as you trail your fingertips along the deepest and ugliest of his lesions.

No sooner do you think that then you can sense Feyd waking and turning to face you in an instant. It takes you by shock, barely able to comprehend what’s happening, as he grabs your wrist in a vice.

His pale eyes look silver; his nostrils flare, his jaw clenched. For a moment it’s like he doesn’t see you.

You want to pull back but he holds onto your wrist–for a moment you worry that he’ll squeeze tighter and shatter the delicate bones. The two of you stare, caught in silence. Then he blinks and seems to take in the fear and confusion in your eyes, and whatever he saw wasn’t you, not with the recognition sinking in. He releases your wrist, looks away, and rolls in the opposite direction of you.

“What are you–?” you start, stunned. You feel utter whiplash from the difference a few seconds could make, unsure exactly what you did.

He gets up without a word. He doesn’t look back at you as he pulls on his trousers.

“What did I do?” you ask him.

He pauses, starts to look back, and turns his head back to the door and leaves. You stare after the door once he’s shut it behind him, wondering what happened.

You don’t go back to sleep. You lay in bed for the hours it takes for light to more prominently trickle in.

Not that he said it out loud, but you think you just got confirmation for how he got those scars.

Tags: @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai

#feyd x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd smut #dune part 2 #dune 2 #feyd rautha x you

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finnick002 · 2 months

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How to kill Mizora in act 3 without damning Wyll

A few months ago I made a reddit post on this matter. Thought I should share this tutorial with Tumblr folks too and add a few more notes plus an alternative method to it.

Players have discovered Flesh to Stone can turn Mizora into a statue, but this tutorial helps you erase Mizora's presence on the material plane. Both methods involves the use of illithid powers, meaning you have to absorb a few tadpoles. But, to quote Wyll, that's "a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things".

Method 1. Drain Intelligence -> Absorb Intellect

You need: A character who has gone through partial ceremorphosis and unlocked illithid power Absorb Intellect,

A wizard/fighter/rogue (classes that use Intelligence for spell casting) who has unlocked illithid power Ability Drain, and a cleric/druid who is at least level 9. One character may satisfy more than one roles. If you're short on tadpoles, please refer to this page for the locations to find them.

Step 1. Let the wizard/fighter/rogue attack Mizora with any attack roll spells (e.g. Firebolt) to drain her Intelligence. Alternatively, equip Infernal Rapier and melee attack Mizora. Repeat until her Intelligence is drained to 1.

Step 2. (IMPORTANT!) Let the cleric/druid prepare the spell Contagion. Cast the Contagion: Mindfire variant of it on Mizora. Wait for her to fail the saving throws 3 times. (She needs to succeed the saves 3 times to nullify this spell.)

After 3 failed saves, Mizora will turn hostile due to the spell effect and a battle commences. This step is to make sure that you can safely kill her. Otherwise, your entire camp would turn hostile, and Wyll and Ulder would no longer be your allies.

Step 3. Let the character who has gone through partial ceremorphosis use Absorb Intellect on Mizora. It is recommended that this character has a high initiative to act first. Once you successfully hit Mizora, the combat ends, your party gain 1 XP, Mizora teleports away but leaves a pool of blood on the ground.

And then she teleports back - as a disintegrating corpse that turns into a pile of ash after 1 round. No loot from her. What a shame!

Playing flute on her ash XD

Method 2. Drain Strength -> Summon Shadow -> Strength Drain

This method is very similar to the first one. You still need a cleric/druid and a character who has unlocked Ability Drain (preferably someone with high Strength), but no one needs to go through partial ceremorphosis. Instead, back in act 2 you need Gale to craft a Shadow Lantern in Moonrise Towers.

Step 1. Equip Shadow Lantern and cast Conjure Shadow Lantern Wraith to summon a Shadow.

Step 2. Let the character who has unlocked Ability Drain to drain Mizora's Strength. You have many options like melee attacking her, or throwing rotten food, boots, underwear, or anything in your inventory at her. Repeat until her Strength is drained to no higher than 3.

Step 3 is same as step 2 in method 1 - Cast Contagion: Mindfire on Mizora and wait for her to turn hostile.

Step 4. Let the summoned Shadow use Strength Drain on Mizora. She shall die in the same way.

Babygirl you do need a good rest after 7 years of abuse and torment!

So far, in my testings, dead Mizora doesn't affect Wyll's quest, nor does he have a reaction to it. However, it makes saving Ulder a bit easier: when Ulder steps outside of his cell room, the cutscene where Mizora shows up will be skipped. The spiders will still be summoned, but Ulder won't waste a turn forced to kneel.

PS. You may notice My origin Wyll here doesn't have horns but Karlach is also in my party. Some players have also discovered this way to trick Mizora in act 1, by knocking out Wyll every night until the party have entered Mountain Pass. I will post details about this after I get a reliable way to achieve it.

#I love getting nerdy for Wyll #Larian I hate how much you try to protect Mizora and how you tied her to Wyll and Ulder in a recent patch #wyll ravengard #wyll #rest in piss Mizora #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 spoilers

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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 22 days

Text

I'm watching too much stuff. And things are not slowing down with all the things coming in September. So I'm gonna try and keep this short. As much as that's possible given the amount of shows.

QL - Currently Watching

🇹🇭 4 Minutes [6/8] - Finally some answers. I haven't read all the theories floating around about this last episode and what it means, but I'm firmly on the side of, there is another alternative timeline, probably from when Tyme is dying at the start of the show, and also very much in agreement with everything @lurkingshan wrote here that these are just imagined do-overs and nothing will actually change in the real world. Which would be my preferred way.

🇹🇭 Addicted Heroin [2/10] - Haven't watched this weeks episode yet. My review for the first two is here.

🇹🇼 First Note of Love [4/12] - I like them a lot. And I like the pacing of this. I love the intro song. But with a second couple being introduced I think I'm gonna get frustrated having to wait a week for a 20 minute episode. I felt that way a lot during Kiseki.

🇯🇵 I Hear the Sunspot [10/12] - I am annoyed.

🇹🇭 I Saw You In My Dream [7/12] - May the boyfriend era commence. I am enjoying this one. I'm guessing we still have a bit of angst coming and I'm hoping for a good explanation for the dreams.

🇯🇵 Mitsuya Sensei no Keikakutekina Ezuke [6/7] - Just such an incredible show. This week brought the pain and I'm still unwell. As if Frito getting sick wasn't heart breaking enough, that ending left me in tears. I cannot believe we only have one episode left. I am not ready to say goodbye to the three of them.

🇹🇭 Monster Next Door [6/12] - My favourite thing about this is definitely Big. His presence on screen is great. But I'm not fully connecting yet for some reason.

🇹🇭 Peaceful Property [1/10] - It's a lot of fun. Yeah, I know it's not a bl. But it's bl adjacent so it goes here. Also in my head it's gonna be a bl no matter what. Possibly even with a gl side couple. The mind is a powerful thing.

🇯🇵Sugar Dog Life [4/10] - I love Isumi. I really liked that they didn't drag the girl storyline and it served it's purpose. Isumi is now very much aware of it's feelings. I'm looking forward to the date episode.

🇯🇵 Takara No Vidro [9/11] - Takara, my love. This boy has my whole heart. I can't believe I'll have to say goodbye to then tomorrow. I'm bracing for part pain, part happy. Please Japan don't let me down.

🇹🇭 The Loyal Pin [1/16] - I'm waiting to binge.

🇹🇼 The On1y One [4/10] - This show will hurt and I will love every second of it. I really like the look of this show and how we get those little insights into Jiang at the end of the episode. The actors are doing great and I specially love Benjamin Tsang facial expressions. I'm curious to see these two together and how their dynamic will work considering their circumstances. Also, always happy to see the revolving door of cameos Taiwan always grace us with.

🇯🇵Twilight Out of Focus - It's so beautiful. I'm enjoying that we get different couples even if sometimes it feels like we could have more time with them. I like Rei/Shion a lot, but I do miss Mao and Hisashi. 🇹🇭 The Trainee [10/12] - Just to get it out if the way, the Bamhee/Judy storyline was definitely the right call and @lurkingshan was right all along. Also the way the office came together was delightful and it's great to see Pah getting everyone together and once again being the best friend ever. Now. THE OFFICE FLIRTING!!! I was losing my mind giggling like an idiot. I love them. It's pretty obvious at this point that it's mutual and of course Ryan will need to actually be told that, but I still think Jane will wait until the internship is over before confessing or starting anything official. I can't wait to watch all the interns reaction next week. I love it here.

QL - Finished

🇯🇵 Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko! - I'm disappointed in this one. It started off so strong but by the end it lost me. I love Hiroko but I feel like they betrayed the character. And that ending with the kiss in the office was ridiculous. Actually most of the end was weird in the way that it seemed to contradict what came before. I like that they finally got together but it didn't feel as good as it could've.

🇹🇭 Century of Love - Started of great and imo fell apart by the end. I don't think it was consistent all the way through and the mythology was all over the place. Daou did an amazing job though. Also Ju is one of the greatest female characters of the year.

🇯🇵 Cosmetic Playlover - Pretty show. Final thoughts here.

🇹🇭 Knock Knock, Boys! - Probably the biggest surprise of the year for me. It's great. I like the development of both couples. Even if near the end I got a tiny bit annoyed with Peak, I really liked the conclusion of it all. Latte is a great character and the very rare slut unjudged by the narrative.

🇹🇭🇨🇳 Meet You At the Blossom - Look it's great that we got a chinese bl, but this was not it for me. Let's hope this one helps get others made though.

🇹🇭Love Sea - It was fine. I enjoyed Mut but in general I just never connected to this show. And Muk annoyed me to no end. I was so happy to see Aya again and now I just wanna forget that she was ever in this and simply remember her as Yiwa.

🇹🇭 SunsetxVibes - I don't even have words. I don't know if it was my lack of attention or if it never actually made sense but I never really got what the mythology was all about apart from inspiring a truly horrendous looking necklace. I was slogging though this one and I guess the finale was fine.

🇹🇭 This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans - The sides were great, their chemistry was on point. I really wanna see them again. The mains were my favourite thing about Pit Babe but I just didn't like them here.

🇹🇭 The Rebound - I just have to accept that MeenPing will always have bad scripts. They are pretty together but this was a mess.

Dropped

🇹🇭My Love Mix-Up!

Rose Watches OJBL

Pornographer: Spring Life | Playback | Continued Spring Life Finally finished the novelist. Final thoughts.

A LOT of stuff coming this month so if you haven't checked it out, here is the post with all announced upcoming qls for September with a couple of updates that I made today.

As usual my ask box is open. Have a wonderful week💜

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yelenasdiary · 1 year

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Helloooooo! Happy Kinktober! If you are still taking requests for this event, may I request leader of cult Agatha H. and innocent reader. Agatha chooses someone outside her cult as a new recruit and the mission of her followers is to bring reader and indoctrinate her so that in the end she marries Agatha and have her babies

Everything Is Perfect My Love

Pairing Cult Leader! Agatha Harkness x Innocent! Reader

Summary: After a year of joining what you thought was an organisation to meet new like-minded people, you start to see the world through different eyes.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors & Men DNI!! Smut, Dark Angst, Dom! Agatha, Sub! Reader, Loss of Virginity, Legal Age Gap, Oral (R Receiving), Magic Strap, Manipulation, Indoctrination, Forced Marriage, Breeding, Mommy Kink, Use of Magic, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Depression | 2.2K

AC:I really liked the idea of cult leader! Agatha!! Thank you for sending this, I hope you enjoy it! Please keep in mind that although Reader seems to be into the whole idea, they are brainwashed and have no idea what is truly happening.

October Special Masterlist

Every morning you woke up with a smile on your face and a new feeling of excitement since joining an organization a year ago. You haven't been the same, in fact, you found yourself happier with the new people around you that you now call your family. Every morning, you all would have breakfast together with the organization's leader, Agatha. She was rather tall, had blue eyes, long and wavy dark brown hair and a slight accent. Without her, you wouldn't be here.

After the murder of your family and the FBI being unable to track down the person who took everything from you, you found yourself in a dark pool of depression. You felt alone and were barely making ends meet until two young women, slightly older than you, stopped you in the street by handing you a flyer for the Coven Organization. A community of women who offer their services in love, respect and acceptance.

When you joined, you were aware that you didn't have the funds to even sign up but you explained things were hard for you right now and you really wanted to give this a try. The girls spoke to their leader, Agatha, who requested to meet you for coffee to discuss an alternative way for you to join the group.

Fast forward a year later and you've never been happier. Each day is different, and you were excited to be with your new family. It took a little bit of time to adjust but you found comfort in Agatha whose door was always open for you whenever you needed a shoulder to cry on. As time went on, you grew rather close to the leader who was a few years older than you. She was kind, loving, gentle and patient with you. She knew you were pure, untouched and shy, exactly how she wanted you.

"Well ladies" Agatha said before wiping any remains of breakfast on her lips onto a napkin, "I'm so very excited to let you know the festivities will commence in a week's time" she announced. The table erupted with cheer and excitement from those who knew what this meant, "you know what to do" Agatha added as her eyes scanned the large table, taking a second to look at everybody in the eye before her blue eyes landed on you. She smiled softly before she rose from her chair, "you are all dismissed, clean up and continue your duties from yesterday" she instructed.

Everybody rose from the table, piling up the dishes from breakfast as Agatha walked over to you and placed her hands on your shoulders from behind, "See me in my office doll" she whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek and walking out of the dining room. The heels on her boots could be heard walking down the hall, fading as she entered her office.

"You're the chosen one!" Salma turned to you, her dark brown eyes full of joy and excitement but her words left you confused, "the chosen one?" you questioned.

"You'll see" Salma replied with a smile before she followed the others into the kitchen to wash up. You wandered down the hall to Agatha's office, knocking before turning the handle. "Come on in my love" her voice spoke from behind the wooden door. You opened the door and entered, closing it behind you.

"Is everything okay Ma'am?" you asked as she walked up to you with a warm smile. "Everything is perfect my love, I wanted to talk to you" she replied, gently cupping your face with her right hand, an electric line of purple left her fingertips, out of sight from your eyes. "You have such beautiful eyes; I could get lost in them forever" she complimented as she saw the hint of her purple magic fill your eyes.

"Thank you, Ma'am," you replied with a blushing smile. Agatha's thumb gently stroked your skin, she had you wrapped around her finger and you didn't even know it. "I love you" she spoke, her eyes never leaving yours as they widened.

"I..I love you too" you admitted, leaving a brief second of silence to be shared between you both before Agatha kissed your lips softly. "Will you be my wife?" she asks, looking into your eyes once more. The purple in your eyes faded, a smile grew on your lips as you nodded, "forever" you replied.

--A Week Later—

It was the night of the festival, the community you called home were dressed in long purple gowns while Agatha's gown was different. Her outfit was purple mixed with different shades of light and dark purples. She sat on her infamous throne as she watched the enjoyment of others with you by her side. The community were celebrating your engagement to their leader alongside the surprise wedding that Agatha planned.

It took you by surprise at first, but you quickly felt comfort and a sense of belonging that you didn't want to ignore. You both said "I do" while looking into each other's eyes and you swore you saw something sparkle ever so slightly in Agatha's eyes. "Tomorrow, we enter the next stage my loves" Agatha turned on her heels to face the following she had made, taking another moment to look everybody in the eyes for a brief second, knowing she was unstoppable.

Later that night, your things were moved from one of the shared rooms and into Agatha's room. "Is there anything you need my love?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer. You shook your head, "What is the next stage about?" you asked with a hint of worry in your tone.

"To celebrate you" Agatha replied with a soft smile before brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, "and our love" she added. Looking into your eyes, the only thing she could see was the love and dedication you had for the woman standing in front of you, "you'll do anything for me, won't you love?" she asked. Without a thought, you nodded, "I love you, Ags" you replied, "I'll do anything for you. You saved me" you admitted. "Without you or this community you've created, I would've been lost, maybe not even here" you went on, tears filling your eyes.

"Shhh, my love, it is okay" the dark-haired woman kissed your lips softly before wiping your tears with her thumb, "nothing will ever, ever hurt you again" she added as a promise. "Do you trust me?" she asked, her hands finding your waist again. You nodded once more causing Agatha to smile, "tomorrow will be a very big celebration after tonight" she informed you.

"Why?" you questioned watching Agatha's eyes drop to your lips. "Because my love, you are ready and it's going to be perfect" she answered before kissing your cheek, moving down to your neck. Purple magic flashed from her fingertips out of your vision once more, a soft moan left your lips as you wrapped your arms around the back of Agatha's neck. Her lips were soft and warm as she gently sucked to leave reddish marks as a form of claiming you behind the closed doors.

Carefully, Agatha guided you to the bed, laying you on your back as she continued to kiss and gently mark your neck as light moans left your lips. "M..m..mommy, please" the words left your lips even surprising you as Agatha leant back, looking at you with a smirk. "Oh darling, you're going to so good for mommy" she replied before working her hands up your stomach to remove your tee. Her lips kissed your chest to the valley between your breasts as she unclasped your bra, throwing it to the side.

"W-wait" you stopped her with a hand wrapped around her wrist, "I've n-never" you stuttered, almost too worried to look into her eyes. Agatha kissed your lips once more before looking into your eyes once again, "I know" Agatha admitted, "it's okay, I'm going to take such good care of you my little bug" she added. Her purple magic made your eyes flicker, you nodded, "I trust you" you replied. Her magic was working, of course it was, she studied the dark hold to a tee!

Before you knew it, your panties were thrown to the floor and your body almost covered with the markings of Agatha's lips. She paused her actions for a brief moment to walk over to the wardrobe, grabbing a dark purple plastic dildo and a black harness before undressing herself. You'd never seen somebody as beautiful as Agatha, you wanted her in every way you could think of. The small wet patch that was on your panties would've been a lot bigger if they were still on. You couldn't help but rub the inside of your thighs as you watched the older woman attach the dildo to the harness.

"You look worried my love" Agatha smirked as she walked back over the bed, crawling over you. The tip of the toy rested on top of your pussy; the coldness made you lightly gasp at the feeling. "That's b-big" you replied as your eyes were locked onto the drop that sat against your naked skin. "It'll feel so good inside you baby, I promise" Agatha's words comforted you and she saw that as your body began to relax.

"I won't hurt you my love" she added as she continued to kiss down your body, two of her fingers gently rubbing through your folds. "Mm, let mommy taste you baby" She whispered before lying beside you. Without hesitation, you straddled her face and slowly lowered yourself onto her tongue. You moaned at the feeling of her tongue swirling around your clit, giving you a whole new sensation that you'd never felt before.

Agatha hummed at the taste of you, tipping her tongue inside your untouched hole making you slightly jump. "It's okay love" she reminded you, bringing her thumb to your clit, rubbing soft circles as you moaned her name, "don't stop!" your hands landed on her thighs to for support as she worked her magic on you. "You can cum baby" she said in an almost muffled voice. You weren't exactly sure what she meant by that but that thought didn't last long when you felt your legs shake and a loud moan left your lips.

"You taste so sweet" Agatha hummed after she helped you ride out your high, helping you off her. "That was" you paused, unable to stop yourself from blushing, "great" you added after a moment of silence. Agatha looked at you with a proud smirk, "that's how it's going to feel again, lay back and let mommy breed you baby" she replied with hunger in her eyes. You chuckled at her words knowing she couldn't actually get you pregnant, so you thought.

You laid down and watched as Agatha covered the tip of the fake cock with lube before sliding it up and down between your folds, making you moan once more. "You're going to be such a good mommy" she said as she pushed the tip against your hole. You could already tell it was going to hurt and asked her to stop, "it's going to hurt, I've heard others say it does" you said in fear.

"Only for a few moments, bug" Agatha's hand gently stroked your cheek, "take a deep breath for me" she added before moving her hand from your face to support her as her other hand helped line up her strap. You did as she said and took a deep breath in, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the toy slowly enter you. "Let it out my love, it's okay, it'll only hurt for a moment" Agatha spoke to calm you.

After a few moments, the pain faded. "I'm okay" you smiled softly at your wife who at your words began to move her hips, sliding the toy in and out of your wet pussy. She was right, she always was. The pain was turned to pleasure as the room filled with the sounds of your moans and Agatha thrusting into you at a faster past.

"You're doing so well for me baby" Agatha praised you.

Your eyes rolled back at the pleasure, she used that moment to spin her magic, making the fake cock something a little more special. Her lips found your neck once more, "I wasn't joking darling, you're going to be the best mother to our babies" she whispered softly into your hear. Your orgasm was building faster with every thrust, your hands wrapped around your new wife's back, nails stretching at her back. "I'll d-do any-anything for you!" you moaned, opening your eyes for Agatha to see her purple-colored magic filling your natural color. With a few more thrusts you came once more, your nails dug harder into Agatha's skin while she released her cum into your wound, painting your insides with her seed. You felt the warmth filling you, but your mind was too hazed to care.

Agatha cleaned you up after a few you both caught your breath; she watched as you pulled the covers over yourself and snuggled into them while she changed into a fresh pair of pajamas. After watching you from afar, having your family murdered, taking you in and now making you hers forever, she couldn't help but smile proudly to herself and she couldn't wait for you to discover your pregnancy even though she already knew her magic had worked.

Taglist: @tryingmybest233333 | @music-4ever |

#yelenasdiary asks #anon #fanfiction #Agatha Harkness #Agatha Harkness x Reader #agatha harkness smut #marvel #kinktober #darktober

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