#benefit of home inspection | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

houserautha · 10 months ago

Text

These Destined Ends

Part 7

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: depictions of killing/death, a blood oath, oral sex f receiving, fingering, edging, dirty talk, p in v, no protection, breeding/pregnancy kink, creampie kind of

A/N: I hear wedding bells🎉 This took me a hot second to write up and edit, but it's also a little bit longer than I usually post. I hope you enjoy💕

Sleep evades you. The day of your wedding slips in uninvited, a wash of sunlight to chase away the shadows from your room. The bed is empty. Feyd-Rautha hasn’t returned or, at least, hasn’t visited you since.

You convince yourself that you don’t care.

But still your thoughts stray traitorously to him — where he is, what he’s doing, what he’s thinking and if it’s of you.

You stare out at the Grand Arena. It’s more or less attached to the Harkonnen fortress and, to your understanding, typically reserved for political rallies. It’s the only place large enough to host a wedding where the entire planet is invited, though, plus the added benefits of its close proximity.

A platform has been erected and already citizens are filing into their stadium-style seats despite the early hour. They will wait all day to sit front row at the marriage between House Atreides and House Harkonnen. A historic event, you realize with detached clarity. To be remembered for generations to come.

This does nothing to quell your roiling stomach.

You turn at the sound of your bedroom doors opening, hope lifting stupidly in your chest. Because it is not Feyd-Rautha who enters, but Lady Jessica.

She looks more radiant than ever, though you suspect this partially has to do with the time apart that you’ve spent.

“Mother?”

Perhaps your lack of rest has warped your vision.

Jessica smiles softly, confirming both your deepest fear and most shameful want. “Daughter.”

For the first time in your life, you run to her. She embraces you, cradling your face into her neck. She smells like home and the memory of Caladan has you blinking back tears. “Why are you here?”

“Did you really think we would miss your wedding?” Jessica brushes your hair back. “They are treating you well? You haven’t responded to any of our correspondences.”

“They are treating me well,” you tell her. You can’t help but think of Feyd-Rautha’s lips on your skin, between your legs, but quickly dismiss it. “And I haven’t received any correspondences.”

“Mm, as I suspected. Your father thought that you might be too busy to write but I knew better.”

“He’s here, too?”

“Of course.” Your mother presses something cold and metallic into your palm, curls your fingers around it. “I wanted to give you this.”

You frown. After closer inspection, you realize that it’s a necklace. Simple, elegant, with a thin silver chain and delicate pendant. “What is this?”

“I wore it when I first met your father. Although we are not married, our relationship has obviously grown past that of an arranged partnership. I can only hope you find similar happiness.” She pauses then, examining you. “I know you are aware that your birth was…orchestrated. But that does not change our love for you. You are our greatest treasure, Y/N.”

Your mood falters, slipping from between your fingers and shattering on the ground like glass. “This is a fertility necklace.”

“Yes,” Jessica says, dipping her chin.

You have the overwhelming sense to grind the necklace under your heel. The tears in your eyes now belong there for an entirely different reason.

“I thought you came here today to support me but instead you’re just carrying out your Bene Gesserit schemes,” you hiss. A dry laugh rattles in your throat. “I’m such a fool! You don’t care for me. You only care about what I can provide. My whole life, everything has been for them. Everything.”

Jessica’s jaw clenches. “That’s not true.”

Aggravated, you spin on her, teeth bared. “Then tell me you came here today of your volition.”

Jessica holds your gaze but does not reply.

“I knew it,” you all but snarl at her.

“I thought these past few months would’ve opened your eyes to your potential, the importance of your duty,” Jessica snarls back, matching your viciousness. “But still you are blind to the truth. You blatantly refuse to accept a plan that has been in effect for centuries. Ten thousand years of deliberate planning and you act as if you are here as punishment. You are living proof of the Bene Gesserit’s power, Y/N.”

Chest heaving, you shutter your raging emotions. “Leave me.”

“That’s no way to speak to your mother.”

“I speak to you not as a daughter,” you retort, “but as the na-Baroness of House Harkonnen. And seeing that you are nothing but a concubine to the Duke, I demand that you leave.”

You know that with The Voice, Jessica could force you to bend to her will, to do any inexplicable amount of things. But she does not. She stands there, wavering, before striding back from which she came from without another word.

You hide the fertility necklace in the pot of a synthetic plant, and no one is the wiser when they come to prepare you. For the servants this is a joyous occasion and you do not want to dampen their enthusiasm. You mask your growing unease, laughing and joking with the girls as they recreate you into the image of na-Baroness.

“You look stunning,” Asha tells you privately. There’s quite some time before the ceremony starts, and she’s pulled you into a quiet corner of the room. “The na-Baron isn’t going to know what to do with himself.”

Oh, you very much doubt that. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your wedding dress is a subtle combination of both Atreides and Harkonnen culture, a blend of elegance and functionality.

The dress itself is made from a lightweight, flexible material that mimics the look of metallic plates. Featuring overlapping panels that creates a segmented, scale-like effect, the bodice gives the illusion of Harkonnen armor. But the skirt, full and flowing, is entirely Atreides — layers of fabric cascading to the floor. Small, metallic accents line the hem that shimmer with your every step.

And, completing the look, a headpiece that forms a sort of M over your forehead and down your cheeks, adorn with jewels.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. “Have you seen him today? The na-Baron.”

“No, I haven’t. Why?”

“No reason.”

Asha’s mouth quirks teasingly. “Are you nervous?”

“No,” you say, too quickly, “well, yes. But not because of him, because of the ceremony. This will be my first time in front of Giedi Prime.”

“They will adore you,” Asha says. She waves a hand flippantly. “And if not, then your husband will have their heads.”

You grin. “I suppose that’s comforting.”

“Of course it is.” She squeezes your hand.

Your moment with Asha passes as you’re both pulled back into the revelries — spice-laden champagne, food that looks suspiciously like harvested organs, and the pounding, ear-splitting music that’s popular among the Harkonnens. By the time you’re called for the ceremony, your mood has lifted significantly, almost enough to make you forget that you’re the reason for celebration. It’s a sobering reminder.

Your heart threatens to burst from your chest. From inside the walls of the fortress, the roar of the crowd crests and falls like a tidal wave sent to sweep you away. The corridor is alive with mumbled conversation. A procession will precede you to the altar — noblemen and the likes, your parents, who you avoid — along with your betrothed, who is nowhere in sight. The gathered members of your bridal party shift and part, panic seizing you with white-knuckled fingers as the Baron maneuvers toward you.

He greets you with a saying repeated to you many times that day, one that after several iterations you’ve come to understand means, “May your death be swift in battle”.

How it relates to marriage, you are too nervous to inquire about.

“What a wonderful day,” he muses in a rasping lilt. “It would be a pity for someone to ruin it.”

“Indeed,” you reply, eyes narrowing.

“You understand the importance of the ceremony, don’t you?” You don’t respond, sensing that he will tell you nevertheless. “This is just one more step for Feyd-Rautha toward taking my place as Baron. How the ceremony goes will influence his standing with his people.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. Of course this was just another political move. What did he think you would do, riot in the middle of the ceremony? You retort, “I understand.”

“Welcome to the family, Y/N.”

The chill that brushes down your spine, seeping into your bones, is deterred by the sudden clash of a gong. War drums erupt in tumultuous exalt. The very sound of them resonates deep within you, invoking a primal response of adrenaline, as if your body is preparing you for battle.

Which, you suppose is fitting.

And who else to be summoned by the promise of war then Feyd-Rautha.

He enters the room as he always does, commanding the attention of everyone in it. The effect is only amplified today, though, in his polished ceremonial armor and resolute intensity, a heady combination of brutality and valiancy.

Gazing at him us purifying fire, searing you from the inside out, and you take your time charting the unholy beauty of his face, gazing back at you with terrifying reverence.

In that moment, you possess no past or future — there is only him. An eternal now.

And then he steps past you and into the black sun, exultant, thrusting the knife above his head.

A championing cheer follows, impossibly louder than the thunder of the drums. Feyd-Rautha lingers and something in your chest expands at the sight of him dwelling in their approval, their admiration, somehow transcendent of any humanity he manages to have.

He truly is a god.

From your secretive position, you peer at him as he strides down the aisle to the platform where the officiant is waiting for him. At the top of the stairs, he turns and faces his people. In an act that surprises you, everyone who isn’t already on their feet rises, and in sync pound their fists to their chests. One two three.

Their utter devotion to him is staggering.

Feyd-Rautha raises his chin, simultaneously moved and expectant of this. He then takes his place at the altar.

Which means it’s your turn.

You loathe having to follow such a devastating display of power and love. There’s no telling how Giedi Prime will react to you, after all, considering that you are technically the enemy. Asha’s words come to you, emboldening you, and you lift your gaze. You will not falter.

A shushed quiet falls over the arena as you stride out, then enormous applause. You can only imagine what you look like to them, your people, but the only one who matters looks upon you with such unwavering devoutness that it nearly brings you to your knees. As you climb the steps to the altar, Feyd-Rautha’s hands clench into fists, a gesture you interpret as a sign of restraint.

Oh, if only he could touch you with those hands.

The officiant, a representative of the Imperium, begins to recite the traditional Harkonnen wedding script. A translator repeats the words to you, but you let the harsh language wash over you as you focus instead on the row of guests at the base of the altar. Your parents — looking fiercely protective, Leto smiling somewhat reluctantly; Jessica maintaining her cool demeanor — the Baron, emotionless, and beside him Rabban.

Did he wish it was him on the stage?

He catches you staring and flashes you a sickening smile. You look pointedly away, a fist forming in your stomach.

The beginning of the ceremony is tediously long and drenched in tradition, most of which you don’t understand even with the translator’s help. Marriage is not generally a romantic affair for Harkonnens, and the proof can be found in their strangely clinical rites. Again it’s impressed upon you that you are preparing for battle, one in which you would reside besides the most fearsome of its participants.

A pause on the officiant’s part draws you back to the present. You know what comes next, and the thought repulses you — Harkonnens of the Imperial House do not get married with the weight of enemies on their shoulders, pursuing a clean slate of sorts. You watch as a row of prisoners are led before the altar, hooded and bound and forced to their knees by a Harkonnen guard. You shiver despite the insurmountable heat.

You are familiar with war, with combat, the knife-thin edge upon which each fight balances. Life or death. But you can hardly stomach the idea of executing a helpless opponent, even if they are an enemy of your House.

Your throat thickens as Feyd-Rautha is bestowed a ceremonial blade.

Each hood of the prisoner is removed except for one, a man at the end who wavers to stay upright. Feyd-Rautha ignores this man, starting at the opposite end. His grin is apparent as he slashes through the throats of the prisoners, the blade his brush and the bodies his canvas, painting them both with ink-colored blood.

When Feyd-Rautha makes it to the still-hooded man, he pauses, shoulders heaving with the exertion of his wicked precision. Rivulets of blood stream down his armor. He says something unintelligible to the man, then removes his hood.

Your blood runs cold as you recognize him.

Ze’ev.

Now that you know who it is, you inspect him closer. There’s hardly any traces of the man you briefly knew. He is emaciated, bones lining his scarred flesh, clearly beaten within an inch of his life. After your encounter with Feyd-Rautha, you know that Harkonnens heal quickly, and the scars on his body indicate to you that he had been torn open again and again.

Feyd-Rautha turns. When he approaches you, his face is full of such naked adoration that it causes you to take a step back. He offers you the bloodied blade.

“For you,” he rasps.

You whisper fiercely, “What are you doing?”

“He is a gift, for you. On the day of our wedding.”

Every fiber of your being is screaming at you to refuse him. But to do so would be to decline your husband, shame him in front of his people — bile rises in your throat as you accept the blade, your fingers wrapping around the handle.

You breeze past him, refusing to meet his eye.

Ze’ev trembles as you advance on him. Though from his delicate condition or fear, you can’t be sure. His lips form a sneer. “You won’t do it.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” you say dryly. “I thought you were dead.”

“I should be. Your husband certainly brought me to the brink of it and back, telling me that he was saving me. For you.” Ze’ev spits at your feet then, a dark and bloody glob.

On Arrakis, this would’ve been a sign of respect.

But this wasn’t Arrakis.

You raise your arm in an upward swing, then across your body with exuberance, his blood hissing as it splatters the ground. Splatters you.

The crowd applauds your demonstration, and the sound of their approval echoes in your ears as you take the stage once more, the prisoners’ bodies carted away quickly. You feel numb. Bewildered.

But also deliciously righteous.

You face the man who put you in this position, who put the blade in your hand as a gift without considering the consequences. And he smiles because he knows — he knows that you are delighted, that the freckles of drying blood elicit an indisputable, terrifying delirium in you.

He coaxed this from you, what was better left in the dark.

And you don’t know if you should thank him.

The officiant switches to the common tongue. “The time has come to bind these lives together in the sight of their people. As na-Baron and na-Baroness, they pledge their loyalty and protection to one another, their flesh and blood now shared in duty and alliance.”

A second blade is brought out on a satin cushion.

“na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baroness Y/N, to uphold her honor and safeguard her well-being, as your duty demands?”

“I swear.”

“na-Baroness Y/N, do you swear to protect and defend na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, to uphold his honor and safeguard his well-being, as your duty demands?”

You dip your chin. “I swear.”

“Then, as symbol of your shared duty and alliance, I ask you to exchange your blood.”

Feyd-Rautha takes the blade and, with surprising gentleness, turns your palm over and kisses it before gliding the tip of the blade over it. Your blood wells, bright red.

You take his own hand — large, scarred and calloused — and repeat the action.

Before he can heal, the officiant wraps a white cloth around your now joined hands, red blood mingling with black.

“You are my body, an extension of myself,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.

You tense. This isn’t part of the ceremony.

Feyd-Rautha, one hand still clasped in yours, uses the other to beat his chest. One two three. You watch as the crowd responds in kind: the same gesture, reverberating throughout Giedi Prime.

It’s incredibly intoxicating, to be the focus of such a powerful gesture. You let it wash over your skin and infiltrate your bloodstream, alter something inside you, rearranging your very cells into what it takes to be a fearless ruler. You would do anything to garner such a response again.

The officiant waits until the last thump can be heard before he declares, “May your bond be as unbreakable as the strongest fortress. United by duty and alliance, I present to you — the na-Baron and na-Baroness!”

Having spent so much time dreading the ceremony, you never stopped to think about what would happen after it. Currently you sit atop the dais in the throne room, accepting an endless line of Harkonnens who want to congratulate you on your feat of an arranged marriage. Your palm that the blade cut stings with every hand you shake.

After what seems like a small eternity, it’s time for you to join the nobles at the reception. Memories of the last time you sat at the table trickle in through your exhaustion — which you promptly shove away.

The feast passes in a blur. You don’t have the appetite for any of it, but hopefully do a convincing job of moving your food around on your plate.

And then: it’s time for your first dance.

Reluctantly you let Feyd-Rautha sweep you into the center of the room, the usual security you feel in his presence succumbing to your own fears. He holds you tight against him. His tone is clipped, political, plush lips on the shell of your ear, “You had never killed before.”

Ah, your first words as husband and wife.

“No I had never killed before,” you snap at him. “Not everyone goes around just slaughtering whoever they feel like.”

Feyd-Rautha is a surprisingly agile dancer, though you figure that it isn’t all that removed from fighting. “I didn’t intend to upset you.”

“Perhaps, but you did.” Your throat thickens. “What I did is irreversible.”

“You told me you wanted him to pay for what he did.”

“I-I did. I just didn’t think —”

“If you let someone who crosses you live, then others will try,” Feyd-Rautha says, incensed. “You must strangle the serpent while it’s a hatchling, for once it grows, it will seek you out while you lay in your bed and slip around your neck.”

You can’t suppress your shudder. What a lovely metaphor. Apparently Giedi Prime has loads of fun phrases alluding to death.

“You could’ve told me,” you mutter in lieu of a response.

“It was a gift.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheek. Was that all it was? Another part of your game?

“Most people give jewelry as gifts,” you retort.

Feyd-Rautha’s lips twitch. ��I am not most people.”

“I know.” To prove your point, you coast your fingers over his side where the dagger went in.

He pulls you tighter against him. “I would have you right here in front of everyone if you’d let me.”

You can’t help but smirk. “I know.”

He opens his mouth to continue but he’s interrupted — by Rabban, nonetheless. “na-Baron, I request a dance with my sister in-law.”

Feyd-Rautha’s grip on you tightens. “No.”

“Yes,” you say, loosening his fingers from around your waist. “It won’t be long.”

Feyd-Rautha stares after you unhappily as his brother leads you away. Other couples have now taken to the floor in an elaborate dance that you don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway, seeing that Rabban just drags you after him for each step.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” he says finally.

“You suppose?”

“If it was up to me, Feyd-Rautha would be the one extending his congratulations.” Rabban’s small, dark eyes examine you. “Though the Bene Gesserits have chosen well for a Harkonnen bride. You are a formidable force.”

“Thank you,” you reply, sensing more.

“There are…things…in order that will happen because you will not submit to me,” Rabban says.

Your jaw sets. “Like what?”

“You’ve made your choice.” There’s a twinge of pity in his voice. Not for him. For you? “I thought I should forewarn you.”

“Rabban, what are you talking about? You never said anything about —”

“The day of the Crucible. I told you my wishes and you denied me them.”

“You said nothing that would warrant a warning. I thought you just envious of your brother for obtaining something else that you can’t have.”

“Envious? No. More deserving? Perhaps.”

Behind Rabban, a soldier materializes from the crowd. Sardaukar. You stiffen — it hadn’t come to your attention that anyone from the Imperium had attended your wedding.

“Excuse my interruption,” the soldier says. “I wanted to congratulate you on your union on behalf of the Emperor. He extends his deepest apologies that he isn’t t able to be here himself.”

You nod curtly.

The soldier’s gaze slides to Rabban. “May I have a word with you?”

Begrudgingly, Rabban releases you with a final look. You watch his retreating form, mind reeling with confusion. What did the Sardaukar want with Rabban? And why did the soldier look so familiar to you? Idly, you wonder if the violent nature of the Sardaukar soldiers remind you of the Harkonnens.

No, that isn’t it. That soldier had been here before, at the dinner a few weeks before. He had been the one to call the Baron away, you recall. But he had been dressed as a Harkonnen soldier then, not a soldier of the Imperial army.

The revelation creeps over you uneasily.

Before you can give it much thought, however, someone whisks you away into the next dance. A protest forms on your tongue before you realize it’s Asha — cheeks pink and beaming at you.

“Asha!” You can’t help but laugh, partly out of relief. “I thought you were another terrible admirer.”

“I am an admirer,” she says, “though I would hardly consider myself terrible.”

“Terrible for taking so long to get to me.”

“My apologies, but the na-Baroness is in high demand.” You settle into a comfortable rhythm as the music plays and Asha leads you in the unfamiliar dance. After some time, she grows uncharacteristically serious. “I know your feelings for the na-Baron are…complicated…but your ceremony was beautiful.”

You raise a brow. “Really?”

“The way he saluted you…” Asha trails off, waving her hand as if to ward off tears. This reaction spurns your curiosity.

Trying not to sound too interested, you ask, “What does it even mean?”

A slightly dreamy expression crosses Asha’s face. “Generally it’s reserved for military generals as a sign of respect, something that soldiers do to show their loyalty.”

“So when he did it to me…?”

“He was signaling that he sees you as someone superior to himself, someone to respect. That he is your willing soldier.” Asha grins. “Everyone has been talking about it.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can think to say. “Should I have done it back?”

Asha shakes her head. “Definitely not. It would’ve been an insult to him. His judgement. You did the right thing.”

You’re not sure what the right thing was, but you let the subject go. It lingers in your mind, however, to the point that you over-analyze the moment during the ceremony, replaying Feyd-Rautha’s expression as he saluted you.

You want to confront him about it, but apparently your first dance is all you will see of your new husband on the eve of your wedding. Even trying to catch his eye is impossible as you are both continuously pulled in different directions.

“Is this a bad time?”

At first you bristle, afraid that you’ve been caught sneaking away from the festivities. You have no idea of the time but it has to be well into the morning now, and you just wanted a moment to collect your thoughts. The spot you’ve chosen in a darken alcove gave you a perfect vantage point of Feyd-Rautha, infuriatingly charming as he speaks to a pair of nobles out of earshot.

You tear your gaze from him.

“Father!” You run into the arms of Leto, Duke of Arrakis, who ambles down the hall to you. It’s reflective of your greeting with Jessica this morning, but he inspires only warmth and fond memories. The brush of his beard across your cheek fills you with longing. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“I apologize for not going this morning to visit you. Your mother insisted she go alone.” A frown tugs on his handsome features but disappears as quick as it appeared. “You look breathtaking.”

“Thank you,” you sigh. It’s as if you are a child again, the light of your father’s attention basking you in a sunny glow.

“I…” Leto pauses, deliberates. Your father is usually not someone to be lost for words. “I wish I had done something to prevent this.”

You touch his arm. “It’s not your fault.”

“I blame myself, it’s true. What kind of father willingly hands his daughter over to that…monster?”

“You had no choice. Neither of us did.”

“Listen, Y/N, your mother regrets how your conversation went this morning. She has only wanted the best for you,” he adds softly.

His words prick at you, and suddenly the warmth of his light diminishes. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Her intentions can be…muddled by her Bene Gesserit training. But that doesn’t change the love she feels for you.”

“Her love.” You chuckle bitterly. “All that she loves is what others can do to forward the Bene Gesserit agenda. You. Me. Don’t you realize?”

Leto’s expression softens. “Just come with me. She’s waiting for us. She wants to try again.”

Anger seizes you with white-knuckles and stifling heat, blooming in your chest. “I’ve given her too many opportunities to make things right. You just told me that you wish you could’ve prevented this. She could’ve prevented this. I do not wish to speak another word to someone who has orchestrated my entire life since conception.”

Perhaps you can blame the time that you’ve spent apart, the exhaustive events the day has presented you, but there is a side to Leto that you have forgotten — his frightening, unwavering loyalty to Jessica. A loyalty that not even you, his daughter, can temper.

His voice is that of a diplomat, detached and commanding as he says, “You will not speak of your mother in such a way.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but jumping to the defense of your mother cuts you deeper than any knife can. You swallow your disappointment.

“You’re fooled by her just like everyone else.”

Leto’s mouth tightens into an angry slash. “You are not the daughter I remember.”

“No.” You tilt your chin. “She is gone.”

“Then I have no business with you.”

Your tongue rolls in your cheek, over your teeth, carefully selecting your next words. “So be it. I won’t inconvenience you with my company.”

You can’t stand to witness his expression, or let him see the grimace of pain that graces yours, so you turn from him before either happens. You go, not back towards the party, but away — you can’t be here any longer. It feels as if your bones are trying to flee from your skeleton, your skin suddenly stretched too tightly.

Truthfully you have no destination in mind but your feet carry you to the one place that you know will guarantee silence.

Feyd-Rautha’s strategy room.

In the dark your fingers find the seam of the door and you ease it open, slinking inside. For the first time since this morning, you’re alone, and there’s no auditory assault of voices or music.

Back against the wall, you slide down to the ground and pull your knees to your chest. You will tears to your eyes but there are none to summon, lost to the icy numbness claiming you. Any other feeling is cast adrift.

Could it have only been three months ago that you were on Arrakis, sparring with Gurney?

You no longer recognize yourself.

The closest identifying factor is when the door open and Feyd-Rautha appears. There’s a resemblance there, a call of darkness in him that something within you answers. Your mouth twists in distaste. How did he find you?

“Go away.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“I don’t care. This is my strategy room, and I can come and go as I please.” Cast in shadows, you can barely make out his face, but the scorch of his gaze is telling of his scrutiny. “Get up off the floor.”

“No.”

“Get up or I’ll make you.”

You weigh his words. Then you reluctantly rise to your feet, unable to look at him.

“This…attitude is unbecoming of you.”

“You’re a prick,” you fire back.

“A na-Baroness, brooding alone — and on the floor, nonetheless, like a common stray. I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”

“Or what?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. “I will have to remind you who you are.”

Heat flickers in your belly, a weak flame. “And what is that? A whore, a womb? I am nothing but what others have made me to be.”

Feyd-Rautha laughs.

He actually laughs.

The sound of which is so unnatural, so unnerving, that your muscles tense like they’re anticipating a fight. You flush with shame — anger — and raise your hand to strike him but Feyd-Rautha catches your wrist. His words lilt with ill-timed amusement.

“Surely you don’t believe that.”

You struggle to wrest yourself from his grasp, but the effort is futile. “Let go of me.”

“No. Never.”

Feyd-Rautha’s lips crash into yours. He steers your back to the wall, colliding with your spine. He swallows your cry of pain with his mouth, slanting it over yours, hands bracketing either side of your face. His fingers delve into your hair, pads of his thumbs pressing against your cheeks. The weak flame inside you ignites into a raging inferno.

He kisses you with a fierce, concentrated energy, as if his sole purpose is to bruise your mouth with his own. His tongue flickers across your bottom lip, behind your teeth. You moan at the same time Feyd-Rautha chooses to coast his hands down your sides and your head lolls back, neck bared.

He grabs onto you as his mouth flies to your exposed throat, hands greedily clutching at your waist. Feyd-Rautha presses a series of kisses that turn swiftly into nibbles, bites. He sucks and licks at your neck, no doubt creating a necklace of love marks, eagerly staking his claim on the sensitive skin. Each bite and lick winds you closer and closer to an orgasm, the idea of his lips marking you wickedly delightful.

Feyd-Rautha moves his hands to your ass, to the underside of your thighs, and hikes you up. Without thinking, you lock your legs around him. The action brings his hardened length nudging against your center and you whimper, grinding into him, desperate for friction.

“I want you so fucking bad,” you pant. “Please.”

He hums against your neck. “What did you say you were — a whore?” His hips roll with yours, the memory of him inside you inciting a moan from your lips. “The na-Baron doesn’t bother fucking whores.”

“Please,” you say again.

In response, Feyd-Rautha bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You wince even as pleasure floods over you. “Beg all you want but I won’t fuck a whore.”

You fail to conjure a response as he pins you to the wall with his hips, your arms thrown around his neck, and effectively loosens his hands in order to hoist your dress up. Your flesh pimples as it’s exposed to the cool air of the strategy room.

Feyd-Rautha��s hands skim over you, brush over your center. You whimper, “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me who you are,” he rasps.

Feyd-Rautha teases your clit through your panties, drawing lazy circles with his fingers. You buck your hips in an effort to gain reprieve but he denies you this.

Your voice pitches nearly into a whine. “I-I don’t know.”

And you don’t — not after the sequence of your day, not with Feyd-Rautha unraveling you with his his hands and his mouth. You are infinitesimal, insignificant, clay waiting to be shaped in his capable touch.

“Then I will remind you,” Feyd-Rautha says. He pushes your panties to the side, ghosting his digits over your entrance so that you writhe in desperation. “You are my wife, the na-Baroness of the House Harkonnen. You will raze cities to the ground and bring men to their knees. I will fuck you often and fill you with my seed, keep you pregnant so that you bear my children. You are not nothing, you are magnificent.”

His words are punctuated by his short, breathy pants, fingers pressing to your cunt without giving you any of the pleasure that you seek.

“Now — tell me who you are.”

“I-I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife.”

A wail looses from you as Feyd-Rautha plunges his fingers inside you, relieved from your aching by his careful ministrations. Each pump of his hand brings his palm to your sex, quick and authoritative. A hand that had killed six men today, saluted you, bled with you, and the severity of the situation has your walls clenching around him — he is Feyd-Rautha, and he is fucking you with his fingers, littering your body with bites and kisses and mumbled, appreciative praises.

It’s not surprising that this drives you to orgasm with record speed, to alleviating the pressure building between your legs —

Feyd-Rautha removes his fingers, depriving you of your release. You almost howl in frustration.

“Close,” he says. “But I’m not convinced.”

“No, please —”

“You can cum once you’ve convinced me that you remember who you are. Until then — your pleasure will be withheld.”

Again, he punishes you with his fingers, splitting you open as he inserts them. Your back bows.

“Now,” he pants, “tell. Me. Again.”

“I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife,” you repeat, mustering as much conviction as you can. You would tell him anything if it meant cumming on his fingers.

Harder, faster, wrist snapping: “And?”

“And…I am magnificent.”

Feyd-Rautha’s satisfaction is evident even in the dark, judging only by the pulse of his fingers, the breathy laugh fanning into your neck. He removes his fingers again, though, to your chagrin, trading positions for one that allows him to see your face. “Oh, you are,” he purrs. “And I bet you taste even better.”

You hitch your legs around his shoulders at his prompting. Feyd-Rautha sinking to his knees while applying enough weight to keep you trapped against the wall. You suppress another whimper. Your thighs are nearly flush with your chest as Feyd-Rautha dips his head to greet your cunt, driving you higher up the wall and forcing you to grab onto his armor for support.

You can’t see him with the skirt of your dress in the way, but you feel his mouth hovering your entrance.

Feyd-Rautha presses a kiss to you. He flicks his tongue over your clit, then licks a stripe up your center back to it, lapping eagerly between your thighs. His mouth works in tandem with his tongue, his teeth, treating you to the same nipping and sucking that he administered to your neck. Your hips buck to meet his every stroke.

And then, there it is again, your orgasm fighting for completion, raking claws of molten lava through your belly, your pelvis.

From between your legs, Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Convince me and I’ll let you cum.”

You swallow down a cry of protest. If you don’t get your release, you might actually implode. You do your best to summon his words from before, “I am the na-Baroness. I am your wife. And I am magnificent.”

“And how will I fuck you?”

Your teeth grind as you recall, “Often.”

“Why?”

“To-To keep me pregnant,” you stammer out. You rarely allow yourself to imagine your body in such a state, afraid of what it will invoke, but you do now: belly swollen with Feyd-Rautha’s child, breasts full, a physical manifestation of the vigorous fucking he regularly bestows.

And just like that, like the snapping of a rubberband, he returns his mouth to your cunt and laps at you until you finally, finally, reach your orgasm. Feyd-Rautha holds you steady as the prolonged release cleaves you in half, shuddering against his mouth, your vision swimming with stars. Tears wet your cheeks with your relief.

You sag into him, and he effortlessly lifts you back to your feet, still trapping you to the wall, one hand lazily skimming your hip.

“Do not, ever again, think so lowly of yourself. Do you understand?”

Your head bobbles stupidly. “I understand.”

“Good.” He brushes hair back from your face, runs his finger along the scattering of angry welts he’s left on your neck. “Now, my jewel, how do you want me to fuck you?”

You commit him to memory, this renegade angel, a contrast of darkness and your own personal deliverance. “I’ll let you choose.”

Without missing a beat, Feyd-Rautha carries you to the strategy table and lays you flat on your back, maneuvering to grab your ankles, one in each hand and spreading you wide. He takes his straining cock from his pants and strokes it as he admires you. “Mm, my beautiful wife, so eager for me to fuck her.”

He traces your entrance with his fingers, then notches his cock there, sliding the tip of it between your slick folds. You ache to take him but with your ankles in his grip, he keeps you firmly in place. Like a silly, wanton thing, you try desperately to grind against him as he drags himself, up and down, teasing you.

“Please, Feyd,” you beg, “please fuck me.”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck me, Feyd. Please.”

The ridges and crests of the strategy table bite into your back as he drives into you. The ecstasy of finally having him inside you is almost too much to bear — hips snapping, groans rumbling through his chest. He is inspired like this, immersed in the feel of your walls clamping down on his cock, pupils blown, plush lips parted with each panting breath.

If you only you could bottle up this moment, savor the way you both rise to meet the other like waves upon the shores of Caladan.

He pounds into you in a borderline frenzy, each near-violent thrust surging your orgasm higher.

Then Feyd-Rautha releases your ankles, your legs returning around his waist, and he captures your wrists instead, holding them over your head. The angle allows him to press himself to you, spearing you deeper, winding your desire tighter and tighter.

“My wife,” he rasps, “my jewel. Look at me.”

You meet his gaze. Feyd-Rautha smirks, pleased with himself, with you, and thrusts into you with swift finality. Your orgasm peaks and suddenly you’re shuddering and convulsing beneath him, pleasure wrought from every fiber of your being.

Distantly, you feel your cunt draw out Feyd-Rautha’s own orgasm, hips rolling against you as he spills himself inside you. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting, greedily drinking in lungfuls of air. Ostensibly, he recovers first and peels himself from you, tucking his cock back into his pants.

He helps you to your feet and you thank him breathlessly, thighs quivering as you stand, the wrinkled skirt of your dress cascading back to the ground.

“I suppose no one will question whether or not we’ve consummated our marriage,” he says.

Your cheeks burn. “Does it matter?”

“It’s typical for someone to watch to confirm,” he tells you, lifting a shoulder. “I said that it would be obvious enough.”

You gasp and swat his chest. “You didn’t.”

“The alternative was some noble peeking in on our fucking. Would you have preferred that? I do know you like to watch.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t,” you admit.

“Precisely.”

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes flicker over your face, and you can only guess what he sees there — you’re coated in a thin sheen of sweat and, undoubtedly, love marks, hair tangled and headpiece askew.

You shy away from him. “Do we have to go back to the reception?”

“No,” he nearly snorts, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing. “I fully intend on taking you to my bed and fucking you until you’re a mewling, quivering mess.”

Your cunt, still full with his cum, dripping with it down your thighs, clenches in anticipation.

“Then what are we still doing here?”

Part 8

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @kpopnstarwars @m-indkiller @dacreshoney

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic #feyd smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #mrs feyd rautha Harkonnen now

451 notes · View notes

kiss4noo · 5 months ago

Text

stitched back together – l.hs

꒰ 🧵 ꒱ A LEE HEESEUNG [희승] TWO-SHOTt! (pt. 2) pt. 1 here!

genre. angst (??), fluffy fluffy fluff! .˚⊹ pairing. non-idol,,best friend heeseung x fem reader – ex friends w/ benefits 2 lovers trope. ໒꒱ warning(s). prepare to see some sickeningly cute content. word ct. 751

synopsis .ᐟ in which you’ve ran but he loves you too much to let you go.

꒰ 💬 ꒱ mi note. a much asked for part two of “the unravel of his cardigan”. you asked and i am hoping to deliver!

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

weeks have passed by dreadfully slow for lee heeseung and jang y/n, the latter maintaining a gruesome period of no contact. the boy tried dreadfully hard to pry you from the monstrous walls you’d placed up, wanting to have an ounce of understanding as to why you’d shut him out.

yet, you never gave him the light of day. torn between leaving his messages on read and blocking his contact, you’d have to face the reality of his persistent presence anyway. having shared lectures only made your distancing more difficult, heeseung perched beside you as he always was– like you hadn’t walked out on him.

hell-bent on your decision, you tried to validate the reason as to why you’d placed a pause on your friendship: that you were in love and he wasn’t. except, you didn’t know the truth, whether he reciprocated or not; and you needed closure.

to distract you from the weight of your feelings for heeseung, each return to your apartment was welcomed by a gift at your doorstep. whether it be flowers, your usual order from your favorite cafe, or even a plush that reminded the secret admirer of you. silently, you wondered who would have known the information of your apartment, your regular order, and the other favorites– your mind slipping past the idea of him.

one night, settled in your apartment for the rest of the day, you’d received a knock at your door– not expecting a guest nor package. standing in confusion from the warmth of your couch, you’d paused the drama playing on the television to inspect your mysterious visitor. your steps gently pattered against the floor, warning the boy on the opposite side of the door of your impending presence.

unlatching the lock, she pulled open the front door with hesitance, only to meet the gaze of lee heeseung.

with widened eyes, you simply stared in surprise, lips parted and absolutely no words slipping past them. however, he took your pause as an advantage, extending a large bouquet in your direction, a smile gracing his features. once you’d taken the flowers from his grasp, he paused for a moment– wanting you to understand his sudden appearance.

“beautiful girls, all over the world…” he begins, voice soft– his singing reverberating in your chest. stepping closer, he invades your space, hands extending to grasp your waist in a gentle touch.

“i could be chasin’ but my time would be wasted, ‘cause they got nothin’ on you, baby,” he continues, voice raising a degree as he pushes the door shut with a maneuver of his foot. maintaining his hold on you, he guides you backward, further into your home.

“nothin’ on you, baby,” he whispers, brushing his lips against your forehead in an affectionate display of his longing– a sigh escaping you as you melt into him.

“they might say hi, and i might say hey,” he continues, gaze intent as he meets your eyes.

“but you shouldn’t worry about what they say, ‘cause they got nothin on you, baby,” raising a hand, he presses the tip of his index finger against your nose’s tip, earning a giggle from your lips.

“nothin’ on you, baby, mm-mm.” he finishes, heaving a sigh as he presses his forehead to yours. staring up at him, your eyes can’t help but gloss over, the boy warming your heart.

“hee.” you call in a broken voice, his eyes softening at the sight. in an unspoken understanding, he leans down to capture your lips in a gentle and slow kiss, your emotions mingling.

“i’m so sorry.” you sniffle as he retracts from the kiss, his thumb reaching to swipe a stray tear from your cheek. “shh, baby. i know, it’s okay.” heeseung reassures in a low voice, cradling you as if you were the most delicate object he’d ever held.

“i love you, so much.” he begins, his laughter rumbling in his chest at the sight of more tears escaping your eyes from the simple confession. “so stop running.” he firmly mutters, holding your chin between the pad of his thumb and the knuckle of his index finger.

“okay.” you laugh through the stream of tears, nodding your head with the range of motion heeseung had left you. “i won’t run away, not from us. i love you too, so much.” you confess, reaching to cradle his nape.

and despite the distance you’d originally hoped for, the warmth of his arms reassured you that he was yours, and you, his.

꒰ 📎 ꒱ taglist. @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll @pshbites

how to be added to my taglist : click here!

165 notes · View notes

angelremnants · 1 month ago

Text

Heat Waves l J. B. Barnes

PART TWO.⠀LATE JUNE NIGHTS

summary : After years of manipulation by Hydra, Bucky Barnes must find his place in a world that has long moved on without him. With you, an independent and unwavering agent by his side, he reluctantly embarks on a transformative journey of recovery in Wakanda. Amid the kingdom's vibrant culture, your connection to Bucky deepens as he confronts personal demons and embrace the healing process. Bucky learns to welcome the warmth of new beginnings, understanding that even after winter's cold grip, the sun can shine through. Inspired by Heat Waves by Glass Animals.

pairing : James ''Bucky'' Barnes x f!reader

warnings : Mature (16+), slow burn, eventual romance, pure fluff, mentions of past trauma, themes of healing, banter, teasing, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 13.4k

author's notes : So, I lied. I said this next part was going to be the continuation AND ending of this fic.. Long story short, I went overboard (again) and wrote way much more than I had initially planned (I decided last minute to incorporate sexy time for the last part because I'm feral). Anyway, I highly recommend reading the first part beforehand, as it provides essential context for the following scenes.

Writing about Wakanda makes me miss my home country—listening to All the Stars (one of my fav' songs, btw) especially makes me miss all of the amazing summers I spent there, so I took a bit of inspo from them while writing some parts of the story.

I'd also like to adress an immense thank you to @stilleobjection for helping me get set on major components of the story. Live, laugh, love my moots<3

(ao3 version)

The sparring matches had ended on a high note, leaving everyone in good spirits. Shuri, still grinning after her mock victory over you, clapped her hands.

“Alright, white boy, Sparky, we’ve got plans for you today,” she announced, exchanging a glance with T’Challa. “Something is cooking back at the palace, so we need you two out of the way while it’s being perfected.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Out of the way? Should we be worried?”

The king chuckled as he clasped Bucky on the shoulder in camaraderie. “Not at all. My sister thought it would be good for you both to explore a bit of Wakanda’s countryside. It’s a chance to unwind after the training session.”

Shuri tilted her head toward a guide waiting nearby. “We’ve got quads—well, Wakandan versions of quads—prepped for you. Trust me, they’re fast, safe, and a lot of fun. And since I don’t trust you two to behave, I’ll be joining.”

“Wait,” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes. “Why do I feel like this is part of some elaborate scheme?”

Shuri gasped, feigning offense. “White boy, I’m shocked you’d accuse me of such treachery. This is purely for your benefit. You should be thanking me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Alright, let’s do it. But if this is a setup, Shuri, you’re paying for the therapy.”

With that, the three of you followed the guide to an open clearing where two sleek quads—futuristic in design and gleaming in the sunlight—were parked. They looked like something out of a sci-fi film, with smooth, aerodynamic lines and holographic controls.

Shuri, clearly in her element, hopped onto one of the bikes with ease. “Aren’t they beauties? Vibranium-powered of course, eco-friendly, and ridiculously fast.” She patted the handlebars of hers. “You’ll thank me later.”

As she excitedly hopped onto one and began rattling off specs, you noticed Bucky standing back, arms crossed, staring at the vehicle like it was some alien artifact. He crouched down, inspecting the engine with a furrowed brow, his metal fingers tapping lightly on the side as if trying to figure out its secrets.

“It’s not going to break down, old man,” you teased, watching him lean closer.

“I’m just saying,” he replied, gesturing to the sleek design. “Engines like these don’t look like they belong to anything real. Where’s the exhaust system? The carburetor? This thing looks like it’s from outer space.”

Shuri, standing next to her quad, rolled her eyes. “It’s vibranium-powered. No carburetors, no exhaust. Welcome to the 21st century, Grandpa.”

Bucky gave her a flat look. “I like machines I can understand. Motorcycles, for instance. You know, things that don’t look like they’re about to fly off into orbit.”

Shuri smirked, leaning casually against her quad. “Don’t worry, white boy. It’s not as fragile as your Harley. And you might even like it if you give it a chance. Just try not to overthink it, alright?”

You couldn’t help but laugh as Bucky shook his head, muttering something about "vibranium death traps" under his breath.

Finally, he climbed onto his quad, still inspecting the handlebars as if they might suddenly sprout wings. “How’s it feel?” you asked, watching him warily test the controls.

“Like it’s about to insult my mother,” he muttered.

Shuri groaned. “Just start the thing! I promise you’ll survive.”

The ride began with a burst of speed as the quads hummed to life, their engines emitting a low, futuristic whirr that reverberated through the open air. The path wound through Wakanda’s breathtaking countryside, a kaleidoscope of vibrant greenery and golden sunlight that spilled across the landscape. Rolling hills stretched into the horizon, dotted with clusters of wildflowers in colors so vivid they looked almost unreal. Tall trees arched overhead, their bioluminescent leaves shimmering faintly in the soft light, as if breathing with life. Crystal-clear streams meandered alongside the trail, their waters catching the sunlight and scattering it like a thousand diamonds.

The air was crisp and cool, carrying the earthy scent of freshly turned soil mingled with the subtle sweetness of blooming flora. You breathed deeply, letting the scent wash over you as the wind whipped past.

“How’s it feel now?” Shuri called out, her voice cutting through the hum of the engines. She glanced back at Bucky, her tone half-challenging, half-playful.

Bucky, despite his earlier reservations, seemed more at ease now. His broad shoulders were less tense, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Not bad,” he admitted grudgingly, though his tone suggested he wasn’t about to heap praise on the machine just yet. The wind caught his hair, making him look a little less like the stoic soldier and more like someone who might actually be enjoying himself.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the rush of adrenaline making your heart race. “This is incredible! How fast can these go?”

“Fast enough to outrun your doubts, Sparky!” Shuri quipped, her grin evident even from a distance as she twisted the throttle and sped ahead.

The three of you carved your way through the trails, the quads kicking up soft plumes of dirt in their wake. Every so often, you paused to admire the scenery—expansive meadows that seemed to stretch forever, their grasses swaying lazily in the breeze, or ancient-looking rock formations jutting proudly from the earth like guardians of the past.

Shuri acted as a guide, pointing out landmarks with unrestrained enthusiasm. “That hill over there? It’s where some of the first Wakandan warriors trained with vibranium shields. And that tree? It’s older than most of the royal palace!” Her knowledge was infectious, her voice laced with pride and affection for her homeland.

Meanwhile, Bucky couldn’t seem to resist his inner mechanic. Every so often, he’d pull his quad to a halt and hop off, crouching down to inspect its parts like an overprotective grandparent. “These controls are too smooth. It’s like it’s driving itself,” he muttered at one point, tapping a finger against the engine casing.

“That’s because it is smart tech, white boy,” Shuri teased as she rolled up beside him. “Honestly, you’re acting like an old man trying to figure out a smartphone.”

Bucky shot her a withering look, but there was no heat behind it. “I’m just saying, machines like these don’t need to be this complicated. Give me a Harley, and I’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t long before the shenanigans began. Shuri, ever the troublemaker, led the charge.

“Think fast!” she shouted gleefully, swerving sharply to kick up a spray of dirt and grass that splattered across Bucky’s quad.

Bucky coughed, glaring at her as he wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. “Seriously?”

“Just keeping you on your toes, Grandpa!” she replied, her laughter ringing out like music.

You decided to join the fun, veering your quad closer to Bucky’s and revving the engine in a sharp burst. He startled slightly, giving you a side-eye glare that quickly softened into something resembling reluctant amusement.

“You too?” he asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. “What is this, ‘Pick on Bucky’ Day?”

“Every day is ‘Pick on Bucky’ Day,” you teasingly shot back with a grin. “You’re just an easy target, old man.”

Not one to back down, Bucky suddenly accelerated, cutting you and Shuri off in one swift motion. “Alright, if that’s how you wanna play,” he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying the smallest hint of a challenge.

What followed was a chaotic race through the trails. The three of you took turns speeding ahead, cutting each other off, and kicking up clouds of dirt. Shuri, ever the daredevil, led you both through a narrow trail with low-hanging branches that forced you to duck and weave to avoid getting smacked in the face.

“You could’ve warned us, Shuri!” you shouted, laughing despite yourself as you narrowly avoided a branch.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she called back, her voice dripping with mischief.

Even Bucky started to loosen up, his posture relaxing as he swerved around a sharp corner with surprising skill. At one point, you caught him grinning—an unguarded, genuine smile that made him look years younger.

Eventually, the path widened, revealing a breathtaking scene. A shimmering lake stretched out before you, its surface reflecting the pastel hues of the early evening sky. Steam rose lazily from parts of the water, hinting at natural hot springs, while rocky cliffs framed the area like an artist’s masterpiece. A few open-air huts dotted the shoreline, their thatched roofs blending harmoniously with the natural surroundings.

Shuri pulled to a stop and hopped off her quad, stretching her arms overhead with a content sigh. “Welcome to paradise!” she announced grandly. “The water here is the perfect remedy for sore muscles—and bruised egos.” She shot a pointed look at Bucky, her grin as wide as ever.

“This is amazing,” you said, your gaze sweeping over the tranquil scene. “Did you plan this, Shuri?”

“Of course I did,” she replied smugly. “You think I’d let you two wander around aimlessly? Now, go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

The lake was even more breathtaking up close. Crystal-clear water stretched out in a shimmering expanse, its surface rippling gently as steam curled upward from the edges of the natural hot springs. The rocky cliffs surrounding the area glistened with dew, the rock faces streaked with veins of vibrant minerals that reflected the fading light like jewels. Overhead, the sky deepened into a tapestry of purples and gold, scattered with stars beginning to peek through. The air here was warm and heavy with the scent of mineral springs and blooming wildflowers, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere.

A few open-air huts lined the shore, their thatched roofs blending seamlessly with the landscape. Inside, simple benches and woven baskets hinted at their purpose: a place to change or rest before enjoying the rejuvenating waters.

Shuri was already peeling off her outerwear to reveal a sleek bodysuit underneath, the kind of practical yet stylish attire that only Wakandan design could pull off. “Don’t just stand there gawking. The water’s calling, and I’m answering.” She didn’t wait for a response, striding toward the lake and stepping in without hesitation. “Perfect temperature, as always,” she called over her shoulder.

You watched her for a moment, then shrugged. “Why not?” You weren’t exactly prepared for a swim, but that wasn’t going to stop you. Stripping down to your underwear, you stepped into the water, the warmth spreading over your skin like a comforting embrace.

Bucky, however, stayed firmly on the shore, his arms crossed as he eyed the water warily. “I think I’ll sit this one out,” he muttered.

Shuri, already chest-deep in the water, shot him a look of mock disbelief. “What’s the matter, white boy? Afraid your arm’s gonna rust?”

Bucky raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “It’s titanium. It doesn’t rust.”

“Then you have no excuse!” Shuri countered, splashing water in his direction for good measure. “Come on, don’t be boring. Even Grandpa needs to have fun sometimes.”

You laughed, wading deeper into the water until it lapped at your shoulders. “She’s got a point, you know. What’s the worst that could happen? You’ll have fun?”

Bucky groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you and Shuri said in unison.

Finally, with a muttered curse under his breath, Bucky relented. He pulled off his jacket and shirt, revealing the solid planes of his chest and the intricate design of his titanium arm, which gleamed even in the dim light. He hesitated for a moment before removing his boots and pants, leaving him in just a pair of black briefs.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering over him before quickly looking away, your cheeks heating. Shuri, of course, caught it immediately.

“See something you like, Sparky?” she teased, her grin devilish as she waded closer.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, your attempt at nonchalance failing miserably, though your face betrayed you with its growing warmth.

Shuri wasn’t done, though. She tilted her head, the playful gleam in her eyes making you dread whatever she was about to say next. “Don’t worry about it. I saw him watching you earlier when you were stripping down, too.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes widening. “Shuri!”

“What?” she said with a shrug, her grin widening as she gestured toward Bucky, who was already halfway into the water and thankfully out of earshot. “I’m just saying, you’re not the only one doing some ogling tonight.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Why do you always have to do this?”

“Because it’s fun,” she replied with a wink. “And you’re just so easy to fluster. Besides, I’m practically doing you a favor. Now you know he’s looking.”

You peeked between your fingers, your gaze instinctively darting to Bucky, who was settling into the water. His broad shoulders gleamed under the dim light, and you hated how quickly your eyes lingered.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered, sinking lower into the water to hide your embarrassment.

Shuri’s laughter rang out, light and carefree. “You’re welcome!”

Bucky stepped into the water, his movements cautious at first, but he seemed to relax as the warmth enveloped him. “You two are insufferable,” he muttered, though the faintest hint of a smirk betrayed him.

“It doesn’t stop you from following us,” you shot back, splashing water in his direction.

What started as playful banter quickly devolved into a full-blown splash war. Shuri was the obvious instigator, as always, her cunning grin practically a warning sign as she cupped her hands and sent the first wave of water crashing toward you.

“You’re going down, Sparky!” she declared, her laughter echoing over the surface of the lake.

You retaliated immediately, scooping up water and hurling it back at her, though your aim wasn’t nearly as precise. “Oh, you want a fight? Let’s go, Princess!”

Bucky, who had been trying to stay out of the line of fire, quickly found himself dragged into the chaos. A rogue splash hit him square in the face, and he sputtered, shaking his head like a drenched dog.

“Is this what you call diplomacy?” Bucky grumbled as he shielded himself with his arm.

“Wakandan diplomacy is very hands-on,” Shuri replied, her laughter echoing across the lake.

“Alright, that’s it,” he muttered, his voice low and mock-menacing.

The next second, he sent an impressive arc of water flying in Shuri’s direction, catching her mid-laugh and soaking her from head to toe.

“Hey!” she yelped, wiping water from her eyes. “You’re gonna regret that, white boy!”

From that moment on, all bets were off. Shuri was the obvious victor, her technique unmatched as she sent wave after wave of water at you and Bucky. Her speed and agility made her nearly impossible to hit, and her laughter only seemed to grow louder with each successful attack.

You tried teaming up with Bucky to overpower her, but it was like trying to outsmart a hurricane. “We need a strategy!” you shouted, ducking behind Bucky for cover as Shuri sent another splash your way.

“Strategy?” Bucky replied, his brow furrowing in mock disbelief. “We’re in a lake. The only strategy here is survival!”

Shuri, grinning wickedly, used your moment of distraction to launch her most devastating attack yet—a double-handed splash that drenched you both in a massive wave.

“You call that survival?” she teased, her hands on her hips as she waded back a few steps, looking far too smug.

The water glistened around her like liquid silver, the bioluminescent glow of the surrounding foliage casting soft light on her triumphant form. You and Bucky exchanged a quick glance, a silent agreement passing between you.

“Truce?” you whispered.

“Truce,” he agreed, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

Together, you turned on Shuri, launching a coordinated attack that finally managed to take her by surprise. She shrieked as two simultaneous waves of water hit her, but her laughter was still loud and carefree.

“Alright, alright! I concede!” she said, holding her hands up in surrender, though the grin on her face made it clear she wasn’t entirely serious. “But don’t think I’ll forget this, you two.”

The three of you stood there, panting and laughing, the water rippling gently around you as the tension of the day melted away into the cool embrace of the lake. It was a quiet haven, the cool water lapping gently at your skin, but Shuri’s excitement quickly shattered the calm.

“Alright, I’m bored now. Let’s play Pirate Ship,” she declared, her eyes shining with mischief. She swam toward you both, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “It’s a team game—just like chicken, but with a twist. One person is the pirate ship, and the other two are the crew with one trying to take it down and one giving it directions.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Pirate ship?”

“Yeah,” Shuri said, her voice full of energy. “It’s simple. Bucky, you’re the pirate ship. You’re the one we have to knock off balance.”

Bucky looked at her with a bemused smile. “I’m the pirate ship, huh? Alright, I’m game.”

Shuri turned to you. “And you’ll be the first crew member, perched on his arm like a lookout. I’m the second crew member, and my job is to throw you both off balance—knock you out of the game.”

Before Bucky could protest, Shuri swiftly lifted you from the water, her hands steady as she helped you onto Bucky’s broad, muscled arm. Your legs wrapped instinctively around his arm for balance, and you felt a rush of warmth at how strong and solid he felt beneath you. The water swirled around both of you, the gentle waves adding an extra challenge as you settled into place, hands gripping his shoulders for extra security.

“There we go,” Shuri smirked, positioning herself in front of the two of you. “Try not to fall off, pirate.”

Bucky chuckled, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and determination. “I’ll hold my ground. Ready?”

You nodded, gripping Bucky’s shoulder with a steady hand, trying to ignore the flutter of your heart as you realized just how close the two of you were—your body pressed to his in the stillness of the water, your chest lightly brushing against his, and his steady arm holding you firmly in place. You had to concentrate, but your mind kept wandering back to the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers.

Shuri lunged at you first, attempting to knock Bucky off balance. She was quick and agile in the water, and her first attempt sent a shiver of movement through Bucky’s body. But he held strong, his arm steady beneath you, his muscles tightening as he countered her push. You gasped slightly as you leaned into him for support, feeling the strength of his body underneath yours. His hand rested on your knee as he held you in place, his grip firm but gentle, like he was guiding you through a delicate dance.

“Easy there, Buck’,” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper, just for him. “You’re doing great.”

Bucky shot you a playful grin, but there was something deeper in his gaze—a quiet intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “I’ve got this,” he muttered, voice low, as he took a step forward, shifting his weight just enough to keep himself balanced.

Shuri’s second attempt was faster, a blur of motion as she surged forward, trying to get a grip on Bucky’s shoulder. You felt your balance teeter as the water surged around you, but Bucky’s hand shot out just in time, pulling you back into place. His fingers brushed against your skin as he steadied you, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“You’re not getting us that easily,” Bucky murmured, his voice surprisingly husky as his eyes flickered down to you, searching your face for any sign that he was doing okay. The warmth in his gaze was undeniable, and for a moment, you forgot where you were, lost in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you, the closeness of your bodies, the way he was so careful with you.

But before you could respond, Shuri lunged at him one more time. This time, her strategy was sharper and more aggressive, and Bucky’s arm gave way under the pressure. You lost your balance as Shuri grabbed hold of his shoulder, throwing both of you off-kilter. The next thing you knew, you were slipping from his arm and tumbling backward into the water with a splash.

The cold water shocked your senses for a moment, but before you could even panic, strong arms encircled you, pulling you back to the surface. You found yourself face-to-face with Bucky, his hands steadying you as he kept you afloat. His blue eyes locked onto yours with a quiet intensity, his breath warm against your skin as you both clung to the moment.

“You good, dove?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, the hint of concern there, though you knew he wasn’t worried about anything other than making sure you were okay.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as your heart raced. “Yeah, just… didn’t expect you to catch me like that,” you said, your voice quieter now, as if the game was suddenly secondary to the warmth of his presence.

Bucky’s hand remained on your waist, a steadying anchor as you floated together, the water around you both barely making a sound. He didn’t pull away, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded—the playful banter, the game, the world itself. It was just you and him, suspended in time, your chest brushing lightly against his as you shared a quiet moment in the lake.

Shuri's teasing voice sliced through the comfortable silence that had settled around you and Bucky, her tone playful and laced with mischief. “Aww, isn’t this romantic,” she called from where she bobbed lazily in the water, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she floated a little too close, clearly enjoying the moment a bit too much. “But we should probably head back. Sunrise isn’t going to wait for you lovebirds.”

The spell that had wrapped around you and Bucky shattered in an instant. You felt the weight of the moment break as Shuri’s words brought a flurry of laughter bubbling to the surface. Your cheeks flushed as you tried to gather your bearings, feeling the playful spark of the moment slip away, yet, in a way, you didn’t mind. It was impossible to stay serious when Shuri’s teasing grin was so infectious.

You groaned, letting out a dramatic sigh as you pushed yourself upright in the water. “Let’s go, white boy. Don’t want you rusting after all,” you teased, your voice light but still holding onto the warmth of the moment.

Bucky’s eyes rolled at the nickname, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He turned to you, his blue eyes glinting with a playful challenge. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna call me that too.”

You grinned back, your heart still fluttering from the closeness you’d shared. “Impossible,” you replied with a wink. “I like the sound of it.”

Bucky gave you an exaggerated sigh, his hand reaching up to run through his damp hair as he shook his head. “I swear, I’m surrounded by trouble,” he muttered under his breath, but there was no malice behind his words—just a quiet affection that spoke volumes, even if it was wrapped in sarcasm.

Despite his mock grumbling, he followed your lead, swimming toward the shore. You matched his pace, your muscles still pleasantly sore from the game, but the gentle push of the water made it feel like the whole world was moving in slow motion. The distance between you and Bucky narrowed as you both swam side by side, the warmth of his presence a silent comfort, even with Shuri’s teasing commentary still echoing in the background.

Shuri, of course, didn’t let up. “You two make quite the pair,” she called, paddling along next to you. “I might need to start charging for this level of entertainment.” Her voice was full of laughter, but there was something else there too—an undercurrent of fondness for both of you, as if she was delighted by the connection she could clearly see growing between you and the soldier.

You shot her a playful glare. “Don’t make me make you regret learning how to swim.”

Her grin widened. “What’s the saying the white folks say again? Ah yes, ‘shiver me timbers’.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle beside you, the sound soothing and warm, as if he was finally letting the earlier teasing roll off his shoulders. The smirk he gave you was enough to make your heart skip again, the quiet moment of camaraderie between the three of you filling the air.

As the shoreline grew closer, Bucky’s smirk softened, and his expression turned a little more serious, though not in an uncomfortable way. He gave you a side glance, his voice quieter now, and tinged with something almost shy. “Thanks, by the way,” he said, his tone laced with sincerity. “For, you know, hanging in there with me.”

You blinked, surprised by the soft vulnerability in his words. “Of course, Bucky,” you said, your voice gentle. “You didn’t think I’d leave you hanging, did you?”

Bucky met your gaze, the softness in his eyes matching the quiet connection you felt. “I wouldn’t put it past you,” he teased lightly, but there was warmth behind it. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

For a moment, you simply floated there, the water still and peaceful around you, the air filled with unspoken understanding. Bucky had always been a complicated puzzle, but right here, right now, it felt like you were finally starting to fit together.

Shuri, ever the interrupter, glanced over at the two of you with a knowing look. “Alright, alright,” she said, pushing herself up from the water as she began heading toward the shore. “You two are sickeningly cute, but seriously, we should get going before we turn into fish.”

Bucky took a look at you, and this time, the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips was genuine, not mocking, but something softer—something real. “Lead the way, little one,” he said with a grin, his voice warm and affectionate as he gestured for Shuri to go ahead.

⠀

The day’s warmth lingered as you and Shuri made your way to the huts nearby, your bodies tired but relaxed from the playful lake game. The sky was beginning to darken, hinting at the coming sunrise, and there was a subtle excitement in the air—soon you’d be heading straight to the palace.

As you reached the hut, you noticed the men’s and women’s changing areas were naturally sex-separate, allowing for a quiet moment of privacy before the more formal events began. You started to step inside your designated hut, but Shuri held you back with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Wait up, Sparky,” she said, her voice dripping with playful curiosity. “We need to talk.”

You raised an eyebrow but followed her inside the small, private space. “About what?”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Shuri replied, giving you a knowing look as she crossed her arms. “I saw the way you and Bucky were looking at each other out there. That moment—the way he held you steady. You two have something going on, don’t you?”

You felt a flush creep up your neck, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “We’re just friends, Shuri. Nothing more.”

She tilted her head to the side, unconvinced. “Friends, huh?” she said, dragging out the word. “Then why do I sense a little more than that? Hmm? You didn’t look like ‘just friends’ when you were practically on top of him in the water.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

You let out a soft groan, trying to hide the warmth in your cheeks. “Shuri, we’re really just friends. We’ve known each other for a while now.”

Her eyes widened with exaggerated interest. “Oh? Tell me everything. How did this magical friendship start?”

You took a deep breath, trying to focus. “Well, it’s not all that exciting. I first met Bucky during a workout session at the compound—he was just sitting off to the side, hydrating or whatever. I’d been working out with some of the agents, and I was parched, so I grabbed a bottle of water. I didn’t notice him at first, but when I went to leave, I accidentally bumped into him, spilling some of the water on him.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. “I was mortified, but he just laughed it off, saying, ‘You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.’ It was such a small, funny moment, but I remember it so clearly.”

Shuri leaned in, clearly intrigued. “That’s it? That’s how the great Sparky and the white boy became friends?”

You nodded. “Pretty much. But we ended up running into each other again a few months later when we were both assigned to the same mission. It wasn’t planned or anything. Our superiors noticed how naturally we clicked, so after that, they kept putting us together. We just kind of... became friends after that.”

Shuri raised her eyebrows, clearly amused. “Became friends, huh?” She shook her head with a smirk. “There’s something you’re not telling me. The way you two interact is way too comfortable for just a friendship.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “There’s nothing else. Trust me, we’re just close friends who get along well. He’s been through a lot, and I get it. I’m just... here for him. That’s all.”

Shuri didn’t look convinced. She started pacing back and forth, tapping her chin. “Hmm, well, I’m still not buying it. You two have some serious chemistry, whether you admit it or not. You’re telling me that’s all just... friendship?” She exaggerated the word with air quotes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Shuri quickly cut you off. “I won’t let you leave this hut until you spill the tea. You can’t hide behind your ‘just friends’ act forever, Sparky.” She grinned playfully, clearly enjoying herself.

You groaned again, feeling the heat rise to your face. “Fine. There was a... moment, but that’s it. He just... makes me feel comfortable. It’s hard to explain.”

Your cheeks burned at the remembrance of that embarrassing move you’d unconsciously pulled. The kiss to his cheek—it had been a simple, spontaneous act of gratitude, but now, in the quiet of your room, you felt your heart race at the memory.

The day had been long, and you found yourself in your quarters, trying to unwind after an exhausting debrief. As your gaze wandered, it landed on something familiar—an old mechanical wristwatch sitting on your desk. It was an heirloom, passed down through your family, and it had always been a symbol of resilience to you. But recently, it had been failing—stopping intermittently, refusing to tick when it should, and making it clear that it needed repair.

You had tried to fix it yourself, but no luck. You hadn’t wanted to take it to the techs; it was too personal. You’d quietly hoped it might somehow start working on its own, but it never did.

That evening, after dinner, you placed it down on the desk and ran your fingers over its familiar face, as if trying to find some connection to the past. But just as you set it aside, a knock at your door startled you.

Opening it, you were surprised to see Bucky standing there. A tool kit was slung over his shoulder, his usual quiet but determined expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted you with a small, awkward smile. "I—I saw the watch earlier. Thought it might need a little... tune-up."

You blinked, taken aback for a moment. "Bucky? You... know about watches?"

He shrugged slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "More than a few, yeah. Before... well, before everything happened, I worked on mechanical things. Cars, watches, motorcycles—anything with gears."

You raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You're telling me you're not just a soldier, but a mechanic too?"

He chuckled softly, a slight warmth in his eyes. "Not just. I used to spend a lot of time fixing things. Figured I might be able to help."

You gestured toward the desk, where the watch lay, still as ever. You hadn't realized just how much you'd been staring at it, silently wishing it could work again.

"I didn’t expect you to notice it," you said quietly, moving to pick it up. "But I—I can’t seem to fix it myself."

Bucky stepped inside and set down his tool kit, his movements slow and deliberate as he began working on the watch. His fingers were steady, his focus intense. There was a calmness in the way he worked, similar to how he handled everything else—with precision and care. But this was different. He wasn’t handling a weapon; he was working on something delicate, something important to you.

The rhythmic sound of his hands moving as he adjusted the gears filled the room. You watched him, the quiet and his attention to detail stirring something deeper in you. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, how his fingers moved without hesitation—it wasn’t just about fixing the watch. It was something more.

“How’d you learn to do this?” you asked softly, your voice quieter now, full of curiosity.

“I had to,” he replied, his gaze still fixed on the watch. “In the army, you don’t always have what you need. I learned how to fix whatever I could get my hands on.”

You nodded slowly, absorbing his words. There was something different about the way he spoke—like every skill, every moment he’d lived, had shaped him into who he was now. This wasn’t the Bucky you were used to—the soldier with a shield or the man in battle. This was another side of him, a gentler one, one that didn’t require fighting to prove his worth.

After a few minutes, Bucky stopped working, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a small smile. "All fixed."

You carefully took the watch from his hands and examined it. The hands were moving again, ticking steadily, as if it had never been broken. When you reached to take it, your fingers brushed against his for just a moment, and the world seemed to slow. For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze—his blue eyes locked with yours, and there was something in the air, unspoken but understood.

You broke the silence, your voice soft but sincere. "You really didn’t have to," you said, still holding the watch in your hands, its ticking now a steady comfort. "But thank you, James. This means a lot."

Bucky’s gaze softened, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It was nothing. I’m glad I could help."

You stood up, the watch still in your hand, and took a small step toward him. The space between you felt charged now, electric. Without really thinking, you leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss to his cheek—just a brush of gratitude, but it felt more than that. The gesture lingered longer than you intended.

The moment you pulled away, you realized your mistake. Bucky stood frozen for a moment, his eyes wide, and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. For a split second, the room was thick with unspoken tension, and the heat of his gaze made your heart race. You couldn't look at him.

"I—uh—well," he stammered, clearing his throat. "I didn’t expect that."

You quickly regained your composure, your heart still pounding, but your voice steady. "You fixed something important to me. I wanted to show my thanks," you said, though you could feel the rush of warmth on your cheeks. "You’ve done more than I could’ve ever expected."

Bucky’s expression softened, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. He nodded, though he couldn’t quite meet your gaze. "You’re welcome, dove," he said, his voice low. "Anytime."

Your cheeks were still burning, and you quickly opened your arms, pulling him into a quick, grateful hug. It was over in an instant, but his warmth lingered in the space between you. When you pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel the heat of his presence.

"Thank you," you said again, quieter now, more to yourself than to him. "For everything."

Bucky nodded but didn’t speak. His soft smile returned, but there was something else in his eyes—something deeper, like words weren’t enough. He didn’t say anything more as he turned to leave, but as he stepped out, you opened the door and hastily shut it behind him, your heart still pounding in your chest. You leaned against it, eyes closed, feeling the rush of blood in your face and the thick, lingering tension that had settled in your room. You didn’t know what had just happened, but one thing was certain: that kiss had shifted something between you both. And now, you weren’t sure what to do about it.

You shook your head, as if to chase the thought away. Shuri nodded sagely, her eyes dancing with mischief. “I knew it! Something’s going on.” She gave you a dramatic wink. “Don’t worry, I won’t force you to admit anything else. But mark my words, Sparky—there’s more to this than you’re letting on.”

Before you could say anything else, Shuri clapped her hands together, grabbing your attention. “Now, enough of this. You look like you need something to wear for the palace. I’ve got just the thing.”

You blinked, confused. “The palace? Aren’t we heading there soon?”

Shuri grinned. “Yes, and no offense, but what you were wearing isn’t quite appropriate. You’re heading into Wakandan royal territory, and I’m not going to let you go in looking like a tourist.” She quickly rummaged through a nearby chest, pulling out an intricately designed outfit. “Here, you’ll look stunning in this. It’s cultural, beautiful, and fits with the royal occasion.”

You took a step back, eyeing the garment she handed you. It was a royal Wakandan-style dress, the fabric shimmering with patterns that reflected the country’s rich heritage. The deep blues and golds complemented your skin tone perfectly, and the intricate beadwork along the neckline made it clear that this wasn’t just a casual outfit—it was something special.

“This is beautiful,” you said, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness. “But are you sure I can wear this?”

Shuri shrugged. “Of course. You’re as much a part of this country as anyone. Don’t even think about it. This will be perfect for the palace.”

As you changed into the dress, Shuri stood by, watching you with a playful grin. “You know, I bet Bucky’s going to lose his mind when he sees you in that.”

You shot her a warning look. “Shuri, stop.”

But she was already walking out the door, clearly satisfied with her teasing. “I’ll meet you outside, Sparky. We’ll make an entrance, trust me.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you finished getting ready, feeling a strange mix of nervous excitement as you adjusted the dress. Shuri’s antics aside, something about the night ahead felt different. The palace awaited, and you had a feeling that no matter what happened next, things between you and Bucky were going to shift, one way or another.

You stepped outside the hut, feeling the cool air of the evening settle around you as you made your way toward the gathering area. The sunset painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the land, the fading light reflecting off the distant peaks of the mountains. The air was thick with the scent of earth and flowers, the transition from day to night making everything feel a little more magical.

As you reached the edge of the clearing, you spotted Bucky standing there, his back to you. He was dressed in a traditional Wakandan outfit as well—his dark attire highlighted with silver accents, the intricate patterns on his chest and sleeves shimmering under the dying light. The fabric seemed to move with him, like it was alive, giving him an almost regal presence.

Your breath caught in your throat. There was something about the way he looked tonight—so different from the soldier you knew. The colors of his outfit and the strong but gentle lines of his form made him appear like he belonged here, among royalty and tradition. The fading light of the sunset seemed to soften the sharp edges of his usual demeanor, and in that moment, he didn’t look like someone haunted by his past, but rather, someone who had found a place in this world.

He turned as he heard your footsteps, his eyes immediately locking with yours. For a moment, neither of you moved. The setting sun illuminated his features, casting a warm glow across his face, making the familiar blue of his eyes stand out even more.

“You look… great, dove,” he said, his voice low and sincere, his gaze never leaving you.

You felt your heart flutter, the intensity of his words making your cheeks flush. Before you could think of anything to say, Shuri appeared at your side, her grin wide as she observed the exchange. “Told you,” she whispered under her breath, clearly pleased with the effect your appearance had on him.

You swallowed, trying to steady your nerves as you turned toward the palace. The walk ahead felt like a new chapter—one you weren’t sure how it would unfold, but you couldn’t help but feel that whatever happened next, it would change everything. And just as you and Bucky walked together toward the palace, the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky painted with the soft colors of twilight, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

⠀

The grandeur of Wakanda’s capital was one of the many things that could never fail to take your breath away. Towering structures of gleaming stone and glass rose from the earth, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun. The skyline shimmered with a blend of advanced technology and rich tradition, a city that harmonized its ancestral heritage with cutting-edge innovation. The air was heavy with the scent of spices and incense, mingling with the hum of machinery that made everything in Wakanda run with such fluid precision.

You couldn’t help but notice the vibrant markings on the faces of the people you passed, intricate designs painted in vivid colors that told stories of their lineage, their roles, and their connection to the land. It was clear that no one here was simply a passerby. Every person had a story, a purpose. The colors marked their identity, their culture, and their pride.

As you entered the palace, the sheer scale of the hall left you speechless. Massive stone columns rose to the ceiling, adorned with vibrant carvings that depicted the history of Wakanda—their ancestors, their battles, and their triumphs. Statues of past rulers and revered warriors stood solemnly along the walls, some holding ceremonial spears, others adorned with colorful beads, each symbolizing a different tribe’s history and honor. In the center of the room, massive holographic displays flickered to life, depicting abstract representations of Wakanda’s values—its strength, its unity, and its future. The air was electric, a seamless blend of tradition and technology.

You could feel the weight of Wakanda's history in every corner of the room. The way the ancient stone floor felt cool beneath your feet, and the vibranium that coursed through the very walls of the palace, pulsing with life. A soft, melodic hum filled the room, as if the palace itself was alive, welcoming all who entered.

The large hall of the palace was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, which streamed through massive windows, casting intricate patterns of light on the stone floors. The air was thick with anticipation, as the people of Wakanda gathered to witness the beginning of a new chapter in the history of their nation. The room was a perfect fusion of old and new: towering statues of past kings and queens stood side by side with holographic displays that shimmered with information, adding a layer of modernity to the ancient stone.

Wakandan warriors, adorned in ceremonial attire, stood at the edges of the room, their bodies marked with vibrant paints and designs that spoke to their clans, their history, and their strength. The designs were no simple decoration—each stroke carried meaning, telling a story of survival, legacy, and honor. The air was thick with the weight of tradition and culture, yet there was an unmistakable hum of technology coursing through the space. It was as if the room itself was alive, blending the spiritual and the technological into a perfect harmony.

In the center of the hall, a large circular platform had been set up, its surface marked with more designs—symbols of unity, power, and transformation. It was here that the ceremony would take place, where the destinies of two outsiders would intertwine with that of Wakanda. The people of Wakanda stood with reverence, waiting in hushed silence, as their king, T'Challa, walked to the front.

T’Challa’s presence commanded the room. The black panther suit that adorned him, regal and imposing, made it clear that he was both a warrior and a king. As he took his place, his eyes scanned the room, filled with pride for his people. He held the wisdom of his ancestors, yet there was a modern sensibility in his leadership. Today, he was not just a monarch; he was a protector of those who had fought for his country, and he was about to welcome new members into that fold.

At his side stood Shuri, her vibrant energy a stark contrast to the quiet strength of her brother. Okoye, standing at attention beside them, watched the crowd with a protective gaze, while M'Baku’s massive form loomed at the far side of the hall, his powerful presence impossible to miss.

And then, seated on a throne of gold and ebony, was the Queen Mother—Ramonda. Her regal presence exuded wisdom and compassion, a mother’s strength tempered by years of experience. She was a queen not just by birth, but by the force of her will, her calm demeanor a guiding light for the nation. Her eyes, sharp yet filled with warmth, scanned the crowd, but when they landed on you and Bucky, there was a spark of something deeper—a recognition of the weight of their journey, and the transformation that lay ahead.

Flanking her were several elders and respected leaders of Wakanda, each dressed in ceremonial garb and bearing the weight of their wisdom and responsibility. Shuri stood at your side, her grin wide as she observed the ceremony. She had been teasing you and Bucky ever since you’d arrived, her excitement palpable, but now, even she seemed to hold a reverence for what was about to take place.

The Queen’s gaze shifted between you and Bucky, her expression unreadable, before she spoke, her voice resonating like a deep, soothing melody. “Welcome to the heart of Wakanda, White Wolf, and Silver Fox.”

The words hit you both like a wave.

The ceremony began slowly, with the sound of a drumbeat filling the air, its rhythmic thumping echoing through the hall. The drummers, positioned at the back of the room, beat in time with the energy building in the space. Their rhythm matched the heartbeat of Wakanda itself, steady and unwavering.

As the drumbeats echoed, the elder who had been tasked with guiding the ceremony stepped forward, holding a sacred artifact—an intricately carved bowl, filled with a shimmering powder that seemed to catch the light. The elder held the bowl high, and the people of Wakanda rose in unison, chanting softly in a language older than time itself. The chants reverberated throughout the hall, weaving a sense of unity among everyone present.

T'Challa's voice broke through the chants, strong and steady. "Today, we gather not just to honor two individuals, but to witness the transformation of the past into the future." His words were simple, but they carried the weight of history. "James Buchanan Barnes, you stand before us, not as a man shackled by your past, but as a hero who has chosen to fight for the future."

Bucky, standing tall beside you, felt the eyes of everyone in the room upon him. His expression was resolute, though his hands clenched slightly at his sides. He had come a long way from the man he had once been—the Winter Soldier, lost to Hydra’s control—but now, surrounded by the people of Wakanda, he stood as a new man, a free man.

An elder approached Bucky with a pendant in the shape of a wolf’s head, crafted from the finest Vibranium. The pendant shimmered in the light, catching the glow of the surrounding candles. It was a symbol of his rebirth, his transformation into the White Wolf, the protector of Wakanda, and a man who had reclaimed his humanity.

As the elder placed the pendant around Bucky’s neck, he spoke softly but powerfully. "We welcome you into our legacy, White Wolf. This pendant, forged from Vibranium, will be your guide. It will protect you, strengthen you, and remind you of the path you have chosen. With this symbol, you become not only a part of Wakanda’s legacy, but a part of its future."

The elder then applied ceremonial markings, bright red and gold, to Bucky’s metal arm. Each stroke was precise and deliberate, representing his journey, his struggle, and his victory. The markings were a blend of art and function, combining ancient tradition with the advanced technology of Wakanda. The Vibranium in his arm shimmered with new energy, reflecting the changes that had taken place within him. The pendant and the markings on his arm connected him not just to the country, but to the people, grounding him in his new identity as the White Wolf.

When the ceremony for Bucky concluded, the elder moved to you, and the room’s energy shifted. Your heart raced in your chest as you felt the weight of the moment. The people’s eyes were now on you, waiting, watching. T'Challa’s gaze, though warm and respectful, carried the strength of a king. There was no denying that your journey had been just as profound, if not more so.

The elder, holding a beautiful bracelet crafted from Vibranium, stepped forward. They called your full name in a solemn tone, "Your resilience, your strength, and your unwavering commitment to healing are a testament to the power of the human spirit. You have fought for your freedom, for your people, and for those you hold dear. Today, we honor you as one of ours, Silver Fox."

The elder gently placed the bracelet on your wrist, the Vibranium glowing faintly under the light, as if responding to your very presence. The designs on the bracelet mirrored the ones etched into Bucky’s pendant—symbols of strength, transformation, and unity.

"As this bracelet binds you to Wakanda," the elder continued, "so do your actions bind us all to a future of hope and healing. You are now a part of this land, and this land is now a part of you. You, too, have earned your place in Wakanda’s future."

You bowed your head in gratitude, humbled by the honor bestowed upon you. The people of Wakanda stood once again, this time not only recognizing Bucky’s bravery but acknowledging your strength and resilience.

T'Challa then stepped forward, his voice firm and resolute as he addressed the room. "Today, we honor those who have shown us what it means to fight for something greater than ourselves. Bucky Barnes, the White Wolf, and [Y/N] [L/N], the Silver Fox. You have proven yourselves worthy of our respect, and of our future." His eyes flicked to you both, and there was something in his gaze that spoke of the trials ahead, but also of the hope that lay within them.

The Queen Mother, Ramonda, rose from her throne, her presence commanding the room’s attention. She was dressed in an elegant yet powerful gown of deep green and gold, the fabric flowing like a river of life, and her crown glinted with the subtle beauty of Vibranium inlay. Her eyes, filled with the wisdom of ages, fell on you both, and you felt the weight of her gaze, a mix of authority and nurturing kindness.

"Your journeys are not your own," Queen Ramonda’s voice rang out, deep and steady. "You stand here today not only for yourselves, but for the generations that will come after you. The strength you’ve shown, the resilience you've demonstrated, is a gift to Wakanda. And so, we recognize you—not just as individuals, but as part of our family, part of the legacy of this great land."

With her words, you felt something deep within you stir—a connection not just to Wakanda, but to a greater purpose. She smiled gently at both you and Bucky before turning back to the assembly. "It is my honor to welcome you both, [Y/N] and Bucky, into the heart of Wakanda. You are family now, and we will stand together, as one."

As the ceremony came to a close, Shuri flashed you a wide grin. "Told you it would be unforgettable," she said, stepping forward with an impish smile. Okoye, ever the protector, nodded approvingly, and even M'Baku gave a brief but respectful nod in your direction.

The air hummed with pride, unity, and the undeniable sense that this was only the beginning of something much larger. The ceremony had concluded, but the festivities were only just beginning. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the grand hall was transformed into a vibrant celebration of life, culture, and unity. Candles flickered in every corner, casting a warm glow over the room, while musicians began to play a lively rhythm on drums, flutes, and other traditional instruments. The sound of the drums reverberated in your chest, a deep, powerful beat that seemed to carry the very spirit of Wakanda.

You stood near the edge of the hall, still processing the significance of the ceremony and the honor bestowed upon you. The weight of the Vibranium bracelet on your wrist was a constant reminder of the new chapter in your life. But for now, the room buzzed with the energy of celebration. Laughter and chatter filled the air as people from all walks of life came together to rejoice in the moment.

Bucky, standing beside you, was visibly more relaxed now, a small smile on his face as he looked around the room. His hands were still touching the pendant around his neck, the wolf’s head symbol of his new identity. You could see that the ceremony had meant a great deal to him—this was more than just a formality; it was a true rebirth for him.

“Do you know how to dance?” you asked, nudging him playfully.

Bucky chuckled softly, looking at the dancers in the center of the room. “I’d like to think so but it’s been a little over fifty years since I’ve done some, so don’t expect much,” he replied with a grin. “But I think I could manage, with a little help.”

Before you could respond, a burst of laughter rang out behind you. Shuri had bounded over, her excitement infectious. She had already shed her ceremonial attire and was now in a more casual outfit, her vibrant energy still radiating from her. “Come, Silver Fox, don’t just stand there!” she called. “Join us! It’s time to dance!”

You hesitated, but Shuri grabbed your hand, pulling you into the center of the room. The music grew louder, faster, and the rhythm was infectious. The Wakandan dancers, moving gracefully in perfect harmony, invited you to join in. You couldn’t help but smile at the warmth of the moment, the energy of the people around you making it hard to stay still.

Shuri spun around with ease, and for a moment, you lost yourself in the beat, the swirl of vibrant colors, and the ancient movements. The dance wasn’t just about rhythm—it was a celebration of culture, a connection to the land, and a testament to Wakanda’s resilience. Each step was a piece of history, passed down from generation to generation, and you could feel the weight of it all in every motion.

During the dance, you caught a glimpse of T'Challa and Queen Ramonda standing nearby, both watching the celebration with approving smiles. T'Challa, his posture regal and composed, caught your eye and gave you a small nod, his expression warm. Queen Ramonda stood beside him, her presence as commanding as ever, but her face was soft as she watched the joy unfolding around her. Okoye stood off to the side, watching over everyone with a watchful gaze, her arms crossed over her chest but a small smile tugging at her lips. Even M'Baku, usually so stoic and serious, was tapping his foot to the beat, a twinkle of enjoyment in his eyes.

Shuri, not one to be outdone, suddenly appeared in front of you, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “You’re doing well, Sparky,” she said, before twirling around and laughing. “But I bet I could teach you a thing or two.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, Princess?”

Shuri grinned devilishly. “Oh, you bet it is.” She spun once more before turning to Bucky with a playful look. “Hey, White Wolf! You’ve got nothing on me.”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of his new title. “You know,” he said with a hint of amusement, “I think I preferred ‘White Boy.’”

Shuri paused, a mock gasp escaping her lips. “Mother, do you hear this? He’s insulting his own nickname!” she exclaimed dramatically, throwing her hands up. “White Wolf is majestic, regal, a perfect representation of his new identity. White Boy? What is this, a beach vacation?”

Queen Ramonda, who had been watching the exchange with a knowing smile, let out a soft chuckle. “Shuri, dear, you are always so dramatic,” she said, her tone affectionate but firm. “Perhaps White Wolf has more gravitas, but White Boy has its charm. There’s no harm in both.”

Shuri huffed, but there was no real anger in her tone. “I’ll have to get used to it, I suppose. But mark my words, Mother—White Boy had a much better ring to it. It's simple and to the point.”

T'Challa, who had been listening to the exchange, chuckled softly. "Let us leave the nicknames to Shuri, shall we? As long as it brings honor to the warrior, that is all that matters." His voice carried an amused but gentle authority.

The conversation shifted to lighter matters as Shuri and T'Challa continued to banter back and forth, with Queen Ramonda watching over them, her serene smile never faltering. The warmth between the family was palpable, a testament to their unity and shared history. Even Okoye, who typically kept her distance from casual conversations, seemed to relax a little, her lips quirking up at the sight of the playful exchanges.

The music swirled around you as the dancing continued, and for a moment, everything seemed to blur into a whirl of color and rhythm. You found yourself moving with the flow of the crowd, caught up in the energy of it all. But even amidst the revelry, your eyes kept drifting back to Bucky.

He was standing a little off to the side now, watching the dancers with a small, amused smile on his face. His usual guarded demeanor had melted away in the warmth of the celebration, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying the moment, despite his earlier hesitations about dancing.

You caught his eye and, with a playful grin, motioned for him to join you. “Come on, White Wolf,” you teased, using his new title with a grin. “You’re just standing there. Time to show off those moves.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. “I told you, I’m rusty in my moves.”

“No excuses,” you countered, pulling him gently into the center of the room, where the dancers had formed a loose circle. You had no idea what you were doing, but that didn’t matter. The important part was being together, in the moment. “If I can do it, you can too.”

He laughed, but the sound was warm, genuine. “Alright, alright,” he said, his tone soft and amused. “You’ve got me.”

With a deep breath, he tried to mimic some of the movements you were making, his arms stiff at first, his steps slightly offbeat. But something was endearing about his attempts—he wasn’t exactly graceful, but his effort was enough to make you smile. You found yourself laughing along with him, not in mockery, but in genuine joy.

“Not bad, not bad,” you said, teasing him as you twirled away from him before pulling him back. “You just need a little more flair.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Flair? I thought we were just supposed to move to the beat.”

“Moving to the beat with flair is a whole different level,” you said, laughing again. You grabbed his hand, leading him into a spin that ended with you both standing close together. His breath caught for a moment, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked down at you, his eyes soft.

Bucky’s smile softened, his blue eyes locking with yours. “Hey, I’m—uh, I’m glad I am here. With you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit breathless. You reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers lingering just a moment longer. “I’m glad, too.”

As you moved together in the dance, a perfect balance of lightheartedness and closeness, everything else seemed to fade away. The music, the laughter, the people around you—none of it mattered. At that moment, there was only the two of you. No past, no struggles. Just the here and now.

Bucky chuckled softly, breaking the silence between you two with a playful glint in his eyes. “You know, I think I’m starting to remember this whole dancing thing. Might have to make it a regular occurrence.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Only if you promise to keep improving.”

He smirked. “Deal. But only if you promise to keep dragging me onto the dance floor every time.”

With a laugh, you leaned in just slightly, your face a little closer to his than it had been before. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The music swirled on, and it felt like the world had slowed down just for you two. As you both continued to dance, laughter and warmth filling the space between you, there was a simple, undeniable truth—you were exactly where you were meant to be. Together.

⠀

After a long and eventful evening, you found yourself in the quiet of your apartment, the warm evening air of June drifting in through the open balcony doors. The sounds of the city—distant chatter, the hum of cars, and the occasional burst of laughter—filled the background, soothing in its familiarity. You were curled up on one of the loveseats facing the starry night, a book in your lap and a plate of strawberry-covered chocolates within arm’s reach. The soft light from the moon illuminated the pages of your book, but you found your mind drifting more to the stars than to the words.

You heard the faint sound of a door creaking open, followed by the soft thud of footsteps. Looking up, you saw Bucky standing there in the doorway, his dark hair still slightly damp from his shower. He wore a simple pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt—his version of pajamas, just as casual and comfortable as yours. His gaze softened as he spotted you, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest.

“Hey, Silver Fox, you planning on eating all those by yourself?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in playful accusation as he crossed the room toward you.

You grinned, raising the plate slightly. “I might. They’re too good to share.”

Bucky chuckled, taking a seat next to you, his gaze flicking to the plate of chocolates. “Strawberries, huh? You know, if you keep eating those, you might turn into one.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head. “I could think of worse things.” You reached for one and popped it into your mouth, savoring the sweet, decadent taste. “Want one?”

He hesitated for a moment before shrugging. “Why not?” He reached for one of the chocolates, biting into it with a smile. “Guess I can’t resist.”

The two of you sat there for a moment, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the night, the only sound being the rustling of the pages of your book and the occasional crunch of chocolate. Bucky seemed to be content just being there with you, as if this simple moment of normalcy was something he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Do you ever think about what we’ve been through?” you asked after a while, your voice soft but steady. You didn’t look at him immediately, but you felt his attention shift as he processed the question.

Bucky let out a long breath, his gaze drifting to the stars. “All the time,” he said quietly. “Some days it feels like I can’t escape it… like I’m still trapped in that past. Like it’s following me.”

You nodded slowly, understanding the weight of his words. You’d been there, in that same mental prison. “It’s hard,” you said, your voice low. “I spent so many years running from my past, trying to forget what I was made to do. But you know what? You’re not defined by what happened to you. You’re defined by what you do now. Who you choose to be now.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked toward you, searching your face as if trying to read the sincerity in your words. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to keep moving forward some days,” he said, his voice tight with a rawness you hadn’t heard from him before.

“You are,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “You’ve already taken the hardest step—admitting that you need help, that you want to change. That’s the hardest part. The rest will come with time. You’re not that man anymore. You’re the White Wolf. You’re… you.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, it was like the weight on his shoulders lifted just slightly. He let out a breath, glancing down at his hands before meeting your eyes again. “I never thought I’d get a title like that,” he said with a small chuckle. “I mean, who would have thought Bucky Barnes, a guy who can’t even remember most of his own life, would end up with a ceremony and a nickname like that?”

You smiled, leaning back into the cushions. “I think it suits you,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “I think White Boy was a little more fitting, though.”

Bucky laughed at that, a deep, throaty laugh that seemed to ease the tension between you both. “Maybe I should’ve kept that one,” he said, his voice still full of humor. “At least I wouldn’t have to deal with the whole... 'ceremonial' aspect of it. Steve would've been proud.”

“Yeah, well,” you shot him a sly grin, “Steve would have been proud, but you know, he never could resist calling you ‘Buck.’ Not that he ever had much room to talk with his Cap persona.”

Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically. “I swear, that man and his shield. Always had to remind everyone of his title. I never needed a title to know who I was. I remember him being all tiny and as thin as a twig.”

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. “You’re right. You were always the guy who saved his ass in a fight, and he gets all the credit.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” He let out a small laugh too, leaning back slightly and stretching. “But hey, it’s Steve. He’s got that whole ‘leader’ thing going on.”

Your smile faded a little as you watched the stars, your thoughts turning inward for a moment. “It’s not easy to forget, though,” you murmured. “The things they made us do.”

Bucky gave you a knowing look. “I know. But we’re not defined by what we were forced to do. We’re defined by what we’re doing now.”

You nodded, appreciating his words. “It’s funny, though. Everyone thinks they know you from what they’ve seen on the surface. But they don’t know everything. No one knows what it’s really like to survive what we did.”

He turned his gaze toward you. “Yeah? So, what was it like for you? I never really got the full story.”

You let out a breath, leaning back into the cushions, letting the weight of the question settle over you for a moment before answering. “I got trafficked to Southeast Asia when I was really young by an extremist group. They took kids like me and put us in a concentration camp, training us to fight. To become soldiers. It was like the Hunger Games. We weren’t seen as children. Just tools, you know?”

Bucky’s face softened, his eyes filled with sorrow and a silent understanding that only someone who had been through something similar could truly grasp. “Jesus. How did you… survive all that?”

Your voice dropped to a whisper, the memories still painful, even after all this time. “I was fifteen when S.H.I.E.L.D. rescued me. They raided the compound, took me in. But it wasn’t easy. For years, I had flashbacks, panic attacks. I could barely trust anyone, let alone let them help me.” You paused, letting the weight of your past hang in the air for a moment. "But S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t treat me like a broken weapon. They saw me as someone who could heal. They got me therapy, helped me recover. I trained as an agent, but I wasn’t just a soldier anymore. I was... something more. I spent years figuring out who I was again. I’m still figuring it out."

Bucky’s eyes softened even more. “So you’ve also been through hell.”

You nodded, locking eyes with him. “I have. But I’m here now. And I’m not that soldier anymore. Just like you, James. We’ve both come a long way.”

Bucky sat back for a moment, his eyes staring off into the distance as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, as if he were comparing your journey to his own, seeing the parallels in your stories. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it was filled with mutual understanding, shared pain, and healing.

Finally, his voice came low and sincere, with a weight that carried more meaning than you expected. “I get it now,” he said, his gaze softening as he looked at you, like he was seeing you in a new light. “I always thought I was the only one who went through that. That no one could possibly understand the kind of hell I went through. But you... you went through something just as brutal. And you made it out. Not just made it out—healed. That’s… that’s something. It takes real strength to do what you did. To come back from all of that and still keep your humanity.”

You felt your heart tighten at his words, but there was no sadness in them. Instead, it was admiration. Respect. You hadn’t realized just how much of an impact your story had on him until that moment, until you saw the understanding in his eyes.

“James, you’re not broken. You’re not the man they tried to make you into,” you said softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his. “Neither of us are. What we went through, it doesn’t define us. It’s who we are now, who we choose to be going forward.”

Bucky stared at your hand for a moment, then met your gaze again, his eyes wide with something between awe and gratitude. “I don’t know if I could’ve gotten through it without you, dove,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're the one who showed me it was possible to heal, to still be something good after everything. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m… I’m starting to believe that I can too.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you squeezed his hand gently. “You already are, Buck’. You’re already healing. You just need to believe it.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The quiet was comfortable, not awkward, as Bucky’s words seemed to settle into your chest, a warm weight that felt like something shifting inside both of you. He understood now. He saw the strength in you, the same strength that had once seemed impossible to find in himself.

Then, with a small, almost hesitant smile, Bucky spoke again. “And to think, I thought I’d be the experiment and teach you how to get through all of this.”

You smiled softly at that. “You’re a work in progress, Barnes. But you’re getting there.”

He chuckled quietly. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head, dove.”

You laughed, nudging him again. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Bucky laughed, but it was a lighter sound, the weight of the conversation lifting a little. He leaned back against the armrest, still holding your hand, but this time, it felt different. Less like a lifeline and more like an understanding, a bond between two people who had walked similar dark paths and were finally finding their way into the light.

The quiet between you grew, not awkward, but warm and heavy with unspoken emotions. The soft hum of the city below seemed distant, a background melody to the quiet connection you shared. Reaching for a chocolate-covered strawberry on the plate between you, you held it up, your smile turning playful.

“You know,” you began, studying the glossy chocolate coating, “this kind of reminds me of life. The strawberry is the tough stuff—the tangy, bitter parts you have to get through. And the chocolate?” You grinned. “That’s the healing. The sweetness that makes all the hard stuff worth it.”

Bucky raised a brow, leaning slightly closer. “So what you’re saying is, we’re both just strawberries trying to coat ourselves in chocolate?” His lips curved into a lopsided smirk, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable.

You laughed softly, rolling your eyes. “Not exactly what I meant, but sure. If that helps you sleep at night.”

Before you could take a bite, his metal hand reached out, swift but deliberate, and plucked the strawberry from your fingers. His smirk widened as he held it up to his lips, taking a slow, deliberate bite. His eyes never left yours as he chewed, and there was something almost maddening about the mischievous twinkle in his gaze.

“Hey!” you protested, feigning offense as you leaned forward. “That was mine.”

He shrugged, holding out the remaining half toward you with an innocent tilt of his head. “Sharing is caring, dove.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but despite your mock irritation, a smile tugged at your lips. Leaning closer, you took a careful bite, the rich sweetness of the chocolate blending with the tartness of the strawberry on your tongue. You leaned back with a satisfied hum, but before you could savor it fully, Bucky’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing slightly.

“You’ve got some chocolate,” he murmured, his tone softer now, almost tender.

You blinked as he reached out, his metal thumb brushing the corner of your lip with a featherlight touch. The sensation was fleeting, yet it sent a small shiver down your spine. Then, before you could react, he brought his thumb to his lips, licking away the smudge of chocolate with a casual ease that left your heart pounding.

“Not bad,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a small smirk, as though entirely unaware of the effect he was having on you.

You swallowed hard, your thoughts scrambling for something witty to say, but the words caught in your throat as Bucky’s gaze softened. He leaned in slightly, his movements slow and deliberate, his attention flicking between your eyes and your lips.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, his voice low and careful, as though he was afraid of breaking the moment.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

His lips brushed against yours with a hesitance that made your heart flutter, as though he were trying to pour every unspoken word, every unacknowledged feeling, into that single, delicate moment. There was a warmth to his touch, not just physical but something deeper—a quiet reverence that made you feel seen, understood in a way you hadn’t expected. His lips were soft, yet there was a firmness in the way he pressed them against yours, as if he were grounding himself at the moment, testing its reality.

It wasn’t hurried, not the kind of kiss borne out of passion or desperation, but one that carried weight, and sincerity. He kissed you with an almost fragile hope, like he was afraid that pushing too hard might shatter whatever fragile thread had brought you both here. His breath mingled with yours, faint and steady, a subtle reminder of how close you were.

Your hand drifted to his shoulder, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to him, to this moment. His shoulder felt solid beneath your touch, a quiet reassurance of his presence. You leaned in, tilting your head slightly to deepen the connection, mirroring his pace. The sweetness of the chocolate and the faint tang of the strawberry lingered between you, blending with the warmth of his kiss and creating a sensory memory you knew you wouldn’t forget.

His hand—flesh, not metal—came to rest lightly on your jaw, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. His fingers curled slightly, cradling your face as though you were something precious, something worth holding onto. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a conversation without words, an exchange of trust, of vulnerability.

When he pulled back, it wasn’t sudden. He lingered close, his lips barely grazing yours as his breath warmed your skin. His forehead dipped to rest lightly against yours, his eyes still closed as if he were savoring the moment, reluctant to let it end. You stayed there for a moment, the world around you fading into nothing but the soft sound of your breaths and the steady rhythm of your heartbeats, perfectly in sync.

When he finally opened his eyes, the blue of his gaze was deeper, softer, filled with an emotion you could barely put into words. He looked at you like you were something sacred, something that had started to piece together parts of himself he hadn’t realized were broken.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing against his arm. “You okay?” you asked, your voice gentle, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his lips curving into a shy smile. “More than okay.”

His hand lingered on your jaw for a moment longer, his thumb tracing the faintest line along your cheek before he pulled it away, his gaze never leaving yours. You weren’t sure what would come next, but for now, this was enough. This was everything.

“You’ve got a weird way of sharing strawberries,” you teased softly, your voice barely above a whisper, though it carried a warmth that matched the steady thrum in your chest.

Bucky let out a chuckle, his lips quirking into a shy smile. “Yeah, well, you’ve got a weird way of making metaphors. I think we’re even.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the weight of the past seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the quiet promise of what could come next.

PART ONE. l NEXT PART.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler — @zyra-7 .

⠀⠀

dividers ©️ @cafekitsune .

105 notes · View notes

sailorholly · 9 months ago

Text

Between Us Pt. 7

Summary: You and Spencer had a casual relationship. A misunderstanding ruins it all.

Pairing: Spencer Reid × F. BAU Reader

Warnings: Friends with benefits. Angst. Pregnancy. A tiny bit of smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist here

Part Six

Spencer ended things with Ashley. It was a huge fight. She didn’t want him to leave her. She knew it had something to do with you. So she resented you. She would bring the greasiest pizza for lunch for the whole team after you mentioned the smell made you sick.

She would comment about how much weight you were gaining. She made you feel so insecure, it was becoming a problem. Your face was swollen today, you couldn’t do anything with your hair, and you felt too nauseous to do your makeup this morning. You walked in to work, hoping Ashley wouldn’t be there.

“You look awful. Pregnancy doesn’t suit you.” She says the moment she sees you. Your hormones have been all over the place lately. Your first instinct was to grab her by the throat, but then you thought about her words, and all her petty behavior towards you. Tears filled your eyes, streaking down your cheeks.

“Why do you think it’s okay to talk to someone the way you talk to me? I would never say anything like that to you. What’s your problem with me anyways? You have hated me since the day you started here. I haven’t done anything to you.”

The tears keep falling, you can’t help it. She was cruel. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Reid wouldn’t even look at me because of you. You had him wrapped around your finger, then you blew it! I finally had my chance, but he was still obsessed with you! He wouldn’t sleep with me because of you. He barely kissed me! Then you got pregnant on purpose to trap him.” She walks right up to you, pointing her finger accusing you.

“Ashley, I did not get pregnant on purpose! I had nothing to do with your relationship.” You try to explain, but she interrupts again. “Save it! I don’t believe you. You’ve got him right where you want him now. I just don’t understand why he would want you, when he could have me!” She places her hands on your shoulders, shoving you backwards.

The back of your legs hit a desk. She is still screeching at you when Spencer pulls her away. “Ashley, get off of her! What are you doing? You could hurt her and the baby!” His cheeks go red, dark eyes flashing. You’ve never seen him this angry before. He looks you over, inspecting carefully for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?” You nod, you’re a little shaken up because you didn’t expect her to put her hands on you.

Hotch comes out of his office, his face stern as he calls Ashley to him. Spencer tells him you’re both taking the day off. He agrees, as he shuts the door behind her. Spencer took you to his apartment, where you spent the day watching your favorite movies and cuddling.

You would normally protest the affection, but after the morning you had it was welcome. As the evening approached, Spencer ordered your latest craving, and you watched one of his favorites, some Russian movie with no subtitles. You had watched it three times with him before, so you knew what was going on. You didn’t stop him when he leaned over to whisper the translation in your ear. His hot breath sent goosebumps down your arms.

It was getting late, so you stood up telling Spencer you needed to go home. “You can sleep here. I’ll take the couch.” You think about it, but not for long. You really do want to stay. You were comfy here and it had started storming. Spencer knew you were terrified, that’s probably why he offered. So you accepted, you took a shower while he laid out one of the few t-shirts he owned for you to sleep in.

You tossed and turned, the thunder was so loud it felt like it shook the apartment building. You had tried to sleep, but between the storm and what happened with Ashley, you couldn’t. You were so angry with her for putting her hands on you. She’s lucky you were pregnant and caught off guard. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have a job to go back to tomorrow.

You thought of how Spencer stood up for you. He had never been hotter. This new protective side of him was something else. You feel the familiar ache between your legs. If your hormones weren’t making you cry, they made you horny. You slipped your fingers into your panties, trying to take care of yourself. Three hours could have passed, and you wouldn’t have known. You were getting no where. You were hot, and so desperate for release.

You should have went home, at least you had your vibrator there. You stand in front of Spencer’s sleeping body on the couch, debating on waking him up. You decide to turn around and go back to bed, but he wakes up.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” He sits up, wild eyed and panic lacing his voice. “Um, I -I” You stutter, suddenly feeling ashamed. He stands looking you over for visible injuries. “What is it?” He was concerned and probably scared something was wrong with the baby. “Everything is okay - with the baby.” You finally manage.

Spencer rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Something’s wrong with you then?” You put your hands on your hips, his shirt raising on your thighs. His gaze lingers on the newly exposed skin for longer than they should. “It’s embarrassing.” You confess.

“Y/N, you know you can tell me anything.” He grabs your hand, rubbing soothing circles by your thumb. You let out a deep breath. “I’m so horny, I think I might die if I don’t get off. I tried to do something about it myself, but it’s not enough.”

He looks at you, confused. “What do you want me to - oh!” Realization sinks in. He runs a hand through his messy brown curls. “Are you sure?” He asks so softly, you’re not sure if you really heard it. “Yes, I’ve never been more sure of anything. Spencer, I need you.”

Spencer pulls you to him on the couch, your legs spreading on either side of his sitting form. He presses soft kisses to your lips, but you need more. You deepen the kiss, hands traveling down to lift his shirt. He helps you, tossing it over his head, kissing down your neck. His long fingers trail along your torso, toward your breasts. He takes your nipples between his fingers, pinching lightly.

You moan, loving how sensitive they were because of the pregnancy. It makes everything more intense. Spencer gently moves you off him, to a lying position on the couch. He lifts the t-shirt he let you wear over your head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He looks at you with a softness you've never seen before. Suddenly, you feel very self-conscious.

You try to cover yourself. You weren't thinking about how differently you looked now. Your breasts were swollen, your stomach wasn't close to being a baby bump yet, but you were bloated. Spencer had to notice too. What were you thinking? He was only doing this to fulfill some kind of obligation he felt for you. He knocked you up, so he had to help you out. That's how Spencer was, he would always take care of you. But you couldn't take advantage of him like this.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, noticing the sudden change. "I'm not in the mood anymore, but thanks for helping." You force a small smile, but he notices. He was very observant. That's what made him such a good profiler. "You're soaking wet. Why are you trying to stop this?" He runs a finger down the seam of your panties to prove his point, your arousal soaking through the fabric, wetting his finger.

"I just look so differently than the last time we did this. I get it if you're not attracted to me right now. I just don't want you to be doing this out of pity." You gesture to your exposed body. "I think you're even more beautiful than before. Your body is changing to make a comfortable home for our baby. I'm so lucky I get to have you like this."

Spencer takes a nipple between his lips, large hand dipping under the waistband of your panties. He hooks an impossibly long finger inside you, his thumb swirling soft circles against your clit. Any worries you had about him not being attracted to you, fade as he works you with his fingers. You feel the pressure building low in your stomach as his tongue swipes at your nipples. He was always so talented with his mouth. You shatter around his fingers, as he removes his lips from your breasts. "You did so good for me." He praises, kissing your stomach.

You yawn, the force of the orgasm and all the craziness from today finally allowing you to rest. "You need to rest, come on." Spencer helps you off the couch, leading you to his bed. "But what about you?" You ask, motioning toward his erection. "I'm fine, really. Tonight was all about you." You open your mouth to protest, but another yawn slips out. He tucks you under the blankets, kissing your forehead before walking back to his makeshift bed on the couch.

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @spenciesprincess @kimm4710 @tmilover1993 @nomajdetective @cynbx @comboboo @134340ona @wannabewolf @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lover-of-books-and-tea @maybe-not-this @drewsandsebastianswife @lamentis-10 @lizzyk137 @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @rosylnsworld @amortencjja @ah-blossom @dreamsarebig @khxna @diasnohibng @nommingonfood @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @isakslilsmile @lavvylove @creaming4daddy @justdianaz @aubs444 @im-this-girl @xblueriddlex @spencerreidsgf420 @witchsbitchestime @lovelygirl8 @chonkybonky @prentissesredtanktop @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @ilikw @theoraekenslover

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #between us #spencer reid au #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x fem!readr

258 notes · View notes

vendetta-ari · 2 months ago

Text

Romeo, Juliet, and a blonde Romeo.

Patrick Zweig x Fem!Reader x Art Donaldson (mentions of sex but no written smut, implied relationship with Art Donaldson, implications of At Donaldson ed (the food kind) cheating?,Reader is a lil bitch, not proofread)

"Hey, i made you breakfast..!" Art chirped as you sat up from your fluffy bed, ever the morning person, the blonde was already dressed and awake- holding a gross looking green smoothie in his hands. somehow, this grown man still has yet to understand what casual means. whatever, free food.

Thanks again for making breakfast," you tap your foot rhythmically against the tile, watching Art pick at his own pancakes and not eat them. "you gonna eat..?"

"not hungry." he quickly bites back, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes with a soft smile. you pause, and the rythem your leg was bouncing to halts as you question him—"why would you make food if you weren't hungry?" one arched brow later and the blonde is chuckling nervously, cleaning up your empty plate and shrugging frantically "yknow, i. actually don't know- I guess i just wanted to make you something but I didn't want it to be awkward so-"

"Art?"

"yeah?"

"stop acting like my boyfriend."

he stammers a quick apology, before making up some excuse about needing to go to practice. (he doesn't, and you know that too, you aren't dumb.) and just like that, the blonde is gone. you'd feel bad, but this isn't the first time you had to remind him that your relationship is purely just friends (with amazing benefits) who knew pathetic men could have such good dick? after cleaning up the rest of the kitchen you go to your room to change, only to hear a familiar pattern of knocks.

tap-tap, tap-tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap.

annoying bastard.

Patrick Zweig.

you open the window anyway. you're a woman of weak morals.

"miss me, baby?" he purrs.

you debate pushing him out the window, but the drop isn't very far.

after rolling your eyes and pulling him through the window, you meet his lips for a kiss. the kind where it's not light or tender and very much sloppy, with tillted heads and kitten licks.

so yeah, maybe you were playing with Patrick and Art. but could you really be blamed?

"hey, what's that?-" Patrick's stupid mouth isn't on your lips, but it's enough to pull you out if the moment, dazed and ticked.

"what's what?" you look around, trying to gage where his eyes have landed now.

Fuck.

Art left his Stanford hat. bright red, almost like a stop sign.

braindead blonde, he's gonna ruin your shot at getting laid (again) today.

"it's nothin, my uh..brother came over today. left his hat."

"am I supposed to belive that?"

God you could pull your hair out right now, you kick the hat under your bed. "can we get back to it?" you snarl, sitting on the bed and pulling him to stand between your legs.

he hasn't budged yet. it's been 5 minutes and he won't even kiss you, the cap is in his hands and he's inspecting it like some sort of fuckin' detective.

"im not fucking you if you don't tell me who's this actually is."

why does that even matter? since when has Patrick ever been monogamous? just last week he asked for a three way between you and this secret somone- the way he described the man though, sounded like he was in love.

"yknow, he's not too skinny, he's fir and built perfectly. white, blonde, he's got those two colored eyes...what's that called again? heterophobia?"

"Patrick i dont care, I'm not trying to get an STD."

"no he's safe, I swear!"

"i said no already!"

Patrick sniffs the hat, like the weirdo he is. you swear his pupils dialate, like a cat.

"what?" you murmur, almost defensively. you didn't mean for it to sound like that- but oh well.

"nothing. I'm going home."

"what? hey!? what about me-"

Art's stupid little hat gets thrown at your face, you sputter and go to chase after Patrick, but he's already hopped out of your window.

well. that's one less good lay.

atleast you've still got Art?

you quickly text him that he left his hat at your place, you make it sound a little flirty too. you didn't just get all worked up for nothing.

Patrick hadn't even stepping foot through the door and Art is already trying to leave.

"look I know we made plans man- but I gotta go do something important!"

"Important like what? whats more important than hanging out with me, am I that insignificant to you?!"

"no- it's not like that, stop being fucking dramatic!"

"just tell me what it is that's soooo important!"

"it's a girl, okay?! I left something at her dorm."

"you're dating—?"

"n-no..not exactly. it's complicated."

manwhore. that's what patrick wants to say. but he relents and let's his best friend get away. as much as he'd love to dig his claws into Art and never let go, no one can resist those eyes.

"fine. go then, just leave, not like I care." He's talking to the air at this point, because Art's already flown off like a puppy hearing a clicker. but hey, maybe Patrick's just being dramatic. he's sure to find some hot chick on campus- right?

maybe Patrick is an idiot. maybe he's a fool for thinking somone as gorgeous as you wouldn't sleep around. but fuck, for once he wanted domone all to himself.

yet here he stands, in Art's doorstep, watching him hold the red Stanford cap he just saw in your house. he isn't overthinking it. underthinking it, if anything. he should really see if he's got an STD.

"so..you're saying she's fucking both of us?" Art finally breaks the silence. looking dejected after Patrick's convoluted explanation when he came back from your dorm.

"dunno. I guess so." Patrick breaks eye contact. he really can't stand to look at his best friend right now. why can't he have anything to himself? why does he always have to share? it's not fair.

He feels like he's back in the tennis academy. sharing his very being with Donaldson. everything he every owned or would own, would be shared. he didn't mind back then, but with a girl like you? call him selfish for wanting you all alone. just his luck.

he needs to prove he's better. for his own fucking sanity.

To be continued.

-xoxo, Ari

#art donaldson #patrick zweig #challengers x reader #artrick #challengers #artrick x reader #art donalson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #xoxo ari

56 notes · View notes

novascharms · 15 days ago

Text

MY STRANGE ADDICTION - RAFE CAMERON

dealer! rafe cameron x maddy perez

Maddy Perez has never been addicted to drugs—nor will she ever be. Her only addiction is the campus dealer she just can't seem to shake off and no matter how hard she tries to break free, she keeps getting pulled back into his orbit.

w.c — 3.7 c.w — mention of drugs, mention of alcohol, biting, (i guess?), they should each have a warning cause they're both kinda crazy tbh a.n — had a dream about this and couldn't sleep until i wrote it sooo ya. maddy is my favourite character in the world, i was obsessed with her when euphoria was at its peak and i think the news that they started filming s3 x ongoing rafe obsession resulted in this odd ass dream lol.

maddy catches her situationship with another girl and has a very maddy-type reaction. <3

"Press your lips together so I can get the edges," Maddy murmured, leaning in closer as she worked the lipliner over Lexi's mouth with practiced precision. The muted hum of music thumped behind the bathroom's closed door, its bassline vibrating faintly underfoot. Cassie's voice, animated and shrill, pierced through the barrier as she paced, launching into yet another rant about some guy from another university who was “totally playing hard to get.”

The chaos was palpable—music, chatter, Cassie’s dramatics—but none of it phased Maddy. She was in her element, zoning out distractions with a skill so refined it felt second nature. Her steady hand glided over Lexi’s lips, guided more by instinct than concentration. Perfecting makeup had never felt like work to her, even amid the din of college parties and frenetic energy of their friend group.

"Cass, he didn’t even see you. None of us saw him," Kat drawled, fidgeting with the zipper on her tight leather skirt. Cassie let out a dramatic whine, the kind that always managed to teeter between endearing and irritating. Maddy glanced at Lexi, and the two exchanged a knowing look, subtle smiles tugging at their lips as if they’d been through this same routine with Cassie a hundred times before.

"I should just walk up to him!" Cassie declared, spinning on her heel with a flair of determination. "I’ll make him acknowledge me. I mean, I did go down on him last week. He owes me that much!" Her kitten heels lay discarded in the corner, her bare feet padding restlessly across the tiled floor as if trying to burn off her frustration.

"Bitch, don't do that." Maddy said flatly, rolling her eyes as she reached for a tube of gloss to finish Lexi’s lips. "You’re not chasing him. Let him come to you. Show him you’re not interested—it’s the only way these guys ever learn." She stood back to inspect her work, gesturing for Lexi to press her lips together a few more times before turning to face Cassie.

"Reverse psychology? That still works?" Cassie asked, her voice cracking slightly as her frustration morphed into the beginnings of an ugly cry. Her wide eyes glistened, teetering on the edge of melodrama.

"You give them too much credit," Maddy said dryly, folding her arms as she leaned against the counter. "Most of them don’t think with anything but their dick." She smirked

Maddy would know.

Hers unfortunately did think with his brain which meant reverse psychology didn't exactly work the way she wanted it too sometimes. The problem with trying to make Rafe jealous when he pissed her off was that he was unpredictable.

Sometimes it worked, turned on his possessiveness and lead to nights where he’d scoop her up, take her home and fuck her senseless all night long with the added benefit of his frustration making the sex that much better.

Other times, it backfired spectacularly. He’d disappear, turning his attention to another girl just to prove she didn’t have the upper hand. Atleast not always.

It would never last though—any kind of distance they forced between the two of them. She'd been attending Oakland University for two years now. Her second year was coming to an end and this thing between her and Rafe started near the end of her first year. They'd never gone longer than three weeks without sleeping together since the moment she met him. He scratched an itch no one else could.

"Why does he even matter that much? Did he even go down on you?" Lexi’s dry question broke through Maddy’s thoughts, and Cassie turned to her sister with an expression of pure outrage.

"Obviously, he’s going to!" Cassie snapped, her tone implying that anything less would be unthinkable. Lexi just shook her head and turned back to the mirror, fussing with a stray curl in her hair.

"Can we just go?" Kat groaned, wiggling her empty glass. "I’m losing my buzz here." She shoved the bathroom door open, and the music hit them like a wave, the bassline pounding so hard it reverberated in Maddy’s chest. The hallway outside was hazy with cigarette smoke, the air thick and alive with the chaotic energy of the party.

The house was alive, pulsing with an electric energy that seemed to multiply in the time they’d spent in the bathroom. The hallways were packed, bodies pressed together in a chaotic blend of dancing and drunken attempts at conversation, voices raised to compete with the pounding music. The bass reverberated through the walls, a steady thrum that seemed to sync with the heartbeat of the party.

“I need a refill!” Maddy announced, weaving her way toward the bar with an easy, practiced confidence. The barman spotted her immediately, his expression lighting up with more interest than professionalism as she slid her empty glass onto the counter. She flashed him a tipsy, knowing smile, and he raised his brows, the corner of his mouth quirking into a teasing grin as he poured her another vodka cranberry.

Before she could take the first sip, a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. She didn’t have to look to know it was Cassie. "I want shots!" Cassie squealed, her voice slicing through the music and landing directly in Maddy’s ear. Maddy winced, tilting her head to the side to escape the assault. “You heard her! Let’s do some shots!” she called, summoning the rest of their group to the bar.

The girls crowded around, each reaching for one of the freshly poured shot glasses lined up on the counter. “Okay, just down it. It’s like ripping off a bandage,” Kat coached, casting a glance at Lexi, who stared at the clear liquid as though it might rise up and attack her.

“Yeah, if the bandage is a burning throat,” Maddy quipped, earning a loud, theatrical sigh from Lexi.

“On three!” Cassie hollered, lifting her glass as the others followed suit. Maddy held her shot, but her attention was already drifting. Her gaze swept across the room, scanning the throng of partygoers until it landed on a figure that made her stomach tighten.

"One, two, three! Down it!" Cassie shouted, and the girls tilted their glasses back in unison—except for Maddy. Her hand hovered, forgotten, as her focus locked on a familiar frame descending the staircase.

Rafe. She’d know that silhouette anywhere, the sharp lines of his jaw, the way he carried himself like the world owed him something. But what snagged her attention more than his presence was the girl trailing behind him—a redhead in a short dress that clung to her like a second skin.

Maddy’s jaw tightened as she took in the signs. His shirt, slightly rumpled. His hair, a little damp with sweat. His lips, faintly swollen. And then, of course, the glaring evidence: a fresh hickey blooming on the side of his neck.

Her chest constricted as she watched him stroll into the living room, sliding effortlessly back into the fold of his friends. He sat, casual and unaffected, accepting a wad of cash from one of them as though he hadn’t just left some girl upstairs. He didn’t even glance at the redhead, who hovered for a moment before practically squeezing herself onto the couch like she had every right to be there.

Maddy’s fingers curled tightly around her glass. She could feel the heat rising in her, anger coiling in her chest like a snake ready to strike. She had a few options.

She could take the high road, pretend not to care. Let Rafe do whatever the fuck he wanted and maybe even give in to the flirtations of the bartender who’d been undressing her with his eyes all night. He was cute, sure.

Or, she could storm over there, drag the redhead off Rafe by her hair, and cause a scene so explosive it would have everyone talking for weeks. That would make Rafe the angriest. If there was one thing Rafe hated, it was public drama, especially at parties like this where his reputation mattered.

But her favorite option? The one she’d perfected over the past year? Make him jealous. Find someone else—anyone else—and put on a show right in front of him. Let him stew in his own possessiveness, watch his jaw tighten and his eyes darken. She could almost hear the messages he’d send later, each one angrier and more desperate than the last.

Her decision solidified the moment the redhead crossed a line. With a faux-casual air, the girl shifted closer, draping her leg firmly over Rafe’s, her hand trailing up his arm like she owned him. Maddy’s blood boiled, her grip tightening until the glass felt like it might shatter in her hand.

That did it, Maddy thought as she pushed through the crowd, weaving between bodies and a fleeting thought crosses her mind: she almost pitied the redhead. Almost. Because if she hadn’t made that little move, Maddy might’ve just gone home with the bartender and everyone would've had a great time.

Too late now. The girl had stepped into a minefield, and Maddy was about to detonate it.

Maddy barely registered Kat’s voice calling after her, pleading for her to stop, but it was too late. The haze of fury that gripped her was deafening, and her focus had narrowed to a single point: the girl’s leg, still comfortably draped over Rafe’s like she belonged there. And Rafe, the absolute dickhead, wasn’t doing a damn thing to stop it.

Rafe didn’t notice her at first, too absorbed in conversation with someone behind him—probably a customer. Typical. He was always “on the clock,” even at a party. But Anthony, one of his close friends and someone Maddy knew all too well, caught sight of her approach. He nudged Rafe just as she reached them.

Without hesitation, Maddy’s fingers sank into the girl’s short strawberry-red hair, yanking her upright with a swift, brutal motion. A gasp rippled through the group. “Maddy—” Rafe started, finally snapping out of his oblivion, but the sharp edge of her smile cut him off. She could tell by the look on his face that she’d pissed him off the moment he laid eyes on her. And that? That was deeply satisfying.

“Am I interrupting?” Maddy’s voice dripped with venom, loud enough to be heard over the thrum of music. Her gaze flicked between Rafe and the girl, who was now squirming under her grip like a cornered animal. “You and your girlfriend enjoying your fucked-up idea of a date?”

The girl screeched, clawing at Maddy’s wrist to free herself, but Maddy’s hold didn’t falter. She twisted her hand tighter, like a leash, and ignored her entirely.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe demanded, his tone sharp but controlled. She noted, with satisfaction, that he didn’t spare the redhead so much as a glance. He knew her well enough to realize that would only escalate things further.

Maddy’s eyes flashed as she stepped closer, forcing him to look down at her. “What the fuck are you doing?” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. She didn’t care that he towered over her, didn’t care that he could easily shove her aside. He wouldn’t. He never did.

“Got your dick wet?” she hissed, her hand shooting up to press her sharp nails into the hickey on his neck. “You satisfied?”

Rafe rolled his eyes and caught her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Let her go,” he warned, his voice dropping lower. “Don’t be fucking difficult, Maddy.”

She hummed mockingly, as though she were actually considering his request. Then, with a cruel yank, she pulled the girl closer until they were eye to eye. “Did he fuck you?” she asked coldly, ignoring Rafe’s exasperated sigh beside her.

The girl’s eyes filled with angry tears, her face contorted with frustration. Every time she tried to fight back, Maddy would twist her hair harder, forcing her to sway painfully in the direction of Maddy’s grip. “Twice,” the girl spat, her voice trembling with defiance.

For a moment, it felt like the entire room went silent. Of course, it hadn’t, but Maddy had always been good at tuning out background noise. All she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and Rafe muttering a curse under his breath.

With a shove, she released the girl, sending her stumbling backward into the crowd. The redhead didn’t matter. She never did. Maddy’s fury was directed elsewhere.

She turned to Rafe, her grin sharp and dangerous. “That good, huh? She so good you just had to hit it twice? Fucking asshole!” Her hand shot out, shoving him hard in the chest.

Rafe barely budged, but his expression darkened. “Maddy,” he started, but she didn’t let him finish. He caught her wrists to stop her, but she wrenched herself free.

“You wanna fuck other people and then act crazy when I do the same?” she shouted, her laughter incredulous and biting. “That’s how we’re gonna play this?”

“There’s a difference!” Rafe shot back, his voice rising as he stepped closer, closing the space between them. “Grinding on some guy right in front of me isn’t the same as me hooking up with someone at a party you weren’t even supposed to be at!”

Maddy scoffed, her eyes blazing. “Oh, so it’s only okay if I do it behind your back? Good to know! Fucking great! I’ve got a whole list of people I need to bang, in that case!” She tried to shove past him, but his arm shot out, barring her path.

“Don’t,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“Get your fucking hands off me, Cameron!” she snapped, thrashing against his grip. She managed to scratch his forearm in the process, but if it hurt, he didn’t show it. Instead, he tightened his hold, dragging her away from the crowd.

“Let go!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the music like a blade. When he didn’t, she twisted harder, her voice dropping to a venomous snarl. “You’re such a fucking coward, Rafe.”

He didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as his grip on her wrist remained firm. His sharp, icy glare never wavered as he dragged her through the hallway, ignoring her kicks and curses. She struggled with all the fire of her fury, but he didn’t falter, his focus unwavering. They reached a random bedroom, and the door slammed behind them with a resounding thud.

The moment they were inside, Maddy lunged for the door handle. “Nah,” Rafe growled, his hand shooting out to grab her wrist. “You were so fucking desperate for my attention—you’ve got it now.”

She wrenched her arm in defiance, spitting her anger. “Don’t fucking touch me! I’ll go wherever the fuck I want.” She shoved him back with all the force her frame could muster and managed to yank the door halfway open before his hands were on her again. His grip was bruising this time, dragging her back into the room. The door slammed shut with a force that rattled the walls.

“You always gotta fucking do this,” Rafe barked, his voice low and simmering with frustration. His face hovered inches from hers, his breath hot against her cheek. “Always gotta be so goddamn dramatic. What the fuck do you want, huh?”

And that was how it always started—the yelling, the chaos, the war between two people too stubborn to back down. The true definition of an immovable object and an unstoppable force. It was a constant battle of who could scream the loudest with words that cut like knives.

“You love to act brand fucking new!” Maddy spat, her hands flying to his chest to push him away, eyes blazing with unfiltered rage. “This is what the fuck I get for lowering my standards!”

This was the problem. Maddy and Rafe were both cut from the same toxic cloth—fiery, stubborn, and vicious when provoked. Even when unprovoked. And yet, neither could let go. They were magnets, drawn together by the intensity of their hatred as much as their desire.

“Ah, ofcourse,” Rafe snarled, his expression twisting with anger as he took a threatening step forward, shoving her back against the door. He loomed over her, his body crowding hers. “That’s the problem, huh? You’re too good for me? That’s why you lose your fucking mind every time you see me with someone else? Makes perfect fucking sense, Maddy.”

Her lips curled into a tight, bitter smile as she crossed her arms. “Move.” Her tone was ice, her glare fire.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice still sharp but tinged with something raw beneath the anger.

“I don’t want shit from you!” she snapped, her voice rising as she jabbed a finger into his chest. “Fuck you and that ugly strawberry-shortcake-looking bitch!” Her hands shot out, shoving him with all her strength.

Rafe staggered back a step, but the venom in his gaze didn’t waver. “Don’t act like you don’t know what this is,” he hissed, his voice low and biting. “I’ve never once promised to be anything more than a good fuck. You want something else? Then find it somewhere else.”

Maddy’s laugh was bitter and cutting, shaking her head as though his words were the most ridiculous thing she’d ever heard. “You know what grates me the most about you when you start spouting this dumb shit?” Her voice softened slightly, but the venom was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. She tilted her head, her tone mocking as she continued, “It’s the fact that you lose your goddamn mind every time you see me with someone else. Remember Eddie? Eddie from Lincoln?”

The mention of the name made Rafe’s jaw clench, his eyes narrowing as he looked away, but Maddy wasn’t about to let it go. “Yeah,” she pressed, her voice rising triumphantly. “You knocked him the fuck out! Wanna talk about that, Rafe?”

He scoffed, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “He crossed a line,” he muttered, his tone dripping with disdain.

Maddy’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she leaned in closer, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Actually, he didn't. I never even got to fuck him because you had to go all caveman just because he grabbed my ass, huh?” Her words were sharp, relentless, designed to cut deep.

Rafe’s expression darkened further, his teeth grinding audibly. “He had the fucking nerve to do that shit in front of me,” he snapped, his voice barely above a growl. “And I punched him once. That weak-ass motherfucker went down like a light. He’s just fucking soft.”

“Oh, he’s soft?!” Maddy’s laughter rang out, sharp and derisive. “You’re so full of shit, Rafe. You’re fucking insane. You don’t want me, but no one else can have me either. That’s it, right?”

Rafe didn’t answer, his silence louder than any words.

Maddy was done. Her throat burned from yelling, and the sight of Rafe's smug, unbothered expression was grating against every raw nerve. With a huff, she turned away and reached for the door, determined to escape his orbit. But before her fingers even brushed the handle, his hands were on her. He moved quickly, crowding her space, his chest pressing against her back. His arms snaked around her, pulling her in as though the argument had only stoked his need.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered against her ear, his voice low and steady, a dark counterpoint to the chaos in her head. His hands roamed her body with incomporable ease, tracing over her hips and waist as if every curve had been etched into his memory. His touch was infuriatingly familiar, an intimacy she hated herself for craving. When his hand slid up to her throat, rough and commanding—she swore she’d walk away, her body betrayed her every single time. Rafe knew it, too. He knew exactly how to unravel her, to make her defenses crumble with nothing more than his touch.

His lips ghosted over her neck, soft and deliberate, and she struggled to contain the noises that threatened to tumble out. Every kiss sent a shiver down her spine, her resolve breaking apart with each featherlight touch. And then he turned her, one swift motion that left her facing him, her lips parting in anticipation before his mouth crashed into hers.

Maddy had come to realise that no one did anything the way Rafe did it. Rafe kissed like he was starving for her. Like he’d been holding his breath and she was the only source of air. His mouth moved with a desperation that should have made her pull away, but instead, it pulled her in. Every time they kissed, it felt like a revelation, a prayer, a reminder of why she could never fully let go. No one else kissed her like this, like she was the beginning and end of everything.

But even as the heat of his lips consumed her, jealousy lingered in the back of her mind like a toxic shadow. The thought of someone else touching him, kissing him the way they were now, sent a fresh wave of rage coursing through her. Her teeth found his bottom lip, and she bit down—hard.

“Fuck!” Rafe jerked back, blood pooling on his lip before he spit it onto the floor. His eyes flared with shock and fury as he touched the tender spot. “Maddy, what the fuck?” he roared, his voice echoing in the small room.

She straightened her dress with deliberate care, smoothing out the wrinkles he’d left in it. Her lips curved into a mocking smile, sweet and cutting all at once. “That bitch probably gave you chlamydia and herpes,” she said sweetly, venom dripping from every word. “So, no thanks. I don’t want your ran-through ass. Text me when you get tested, and maybe—maybe—I’ll give you the time of day.”

Without waiting for his response, Maddy spun on her heel and strode toward the door, her head held high.

“I fucking hate you, Perez!” Rafe shouted after her, his voice cracking with frustration.

Maddy didn’t even turn around. She simply raised her hand and flipped him off, her middle finger loud and proud as she disappeared into the party, leaving him to curse and stew in the aftermath.

masterlist

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #maddy perez #outer banks #obx #euphoria #novawrites #mystrangeaddiction #rafe smut #rafe obx #dividers by cafekitsune

42 notes · View notes

anomaly-hivemind · 4 months ago

Text

The Heat Note ☆ Light Yagami x Misa Amane x L Lawliet |Kinktober Day 6

Summary: All Light wanted to do was kill L... but thanks to that damn shinigami, everything went so horribly wrong.... and ended so right.

Word Count: 10,331

WE'RE SORRY THERE ARE SO MANY TAGS

This is after trimming the tags down. they're sorted by what's related and We broke them up into paragraphs so they're a bit easier to read.

Tags: alpha/beta/omega/dynamics, omegaverse, heats/ruts, mating cycles, Alpha Light Yagami, Alpha L Lawliet, Omega Misa Amane, knotting, accidental knotting, oral knotting copious amounts of slick, Collars, mating bites, mating, nests, scenting, pack dynamics, breeding, non-traditional,

Dub-con, fuck or die, attempted murder, mind manipulation, coercion, begging, Degradation, Gaslighting, Possessive Behavior, pining, Dom/sub undertones, porn with plot, edging, masturbation, mutual masturbation,

Humping, fingering, oral( male and female receiving), face fucking, cum swallowing, marathon sex, shameless smut, dick in vagina sex, anal, Raunchy gay sex, double penetration, Spit-roasting, Hair pulling, angry sex, rough sex, threesome, Slight Somnophilia, cockwarming, Praise Kink, overstimulation,

Aftercare, Canon Divergent, Watari is a G, mentions of death, minor character death, morally ambiguous character(s), friends with benefits, one-shot, Cross-posted on Ao3, shinigami shit posting, original character, sex god, crack treated seriously (in the vibes)

Light was walking back to his home when his eyes landed a crimson red book on the ground, with a similar style to his Death Note. He had the strong urge to pick it up and take it with him…so that's what he did.

He stopped in a park so he could inspect the strangely familiar book, on the front it said Heat Note, “Like an omega heat?” Light thought as he flipped the notebook open. He walked to his home, with a slightly faster pace as curiosity started to form within him and then opened the book. On the inside of the cover, there were rules written in English.

The heat note will not run out of pages.

The persons whose name(s) are written on this note shall go into a heat.

This note will not take effect unless the writer is in a ten-meter radius and the target is physically in the writer's vision when their names are written.

If the target of the heat note is given a person/helper when written, then the heat note target will seek out that person they are activated.

If the heat’s target isn't specified, the person will seek out the writer as their helper.

The person who touches the Heat Note can recognize the image and voice of the original owner, a God of Lust, even if the person is not the owner of the note.

The person in possession of the Heat Note is stuck with the God of Lust, its original owner until they die.

If the person uses the heat note a God of Lust usually appears in front of them after they use the note.

God of Lust the original owners of the Heat Note do not do in principle anything that will help or prevent the heats in the note.

A God of Lust has no obligation to completely explain how to use the heat note or the rules that will apply to the person who owns it.

The God of lust may or may not add or change rules at their own whims if they find that it will be more personally stimulating.

He steps into his home, goes up to his bedroom and drops both his Death note and now the Heat note on his desk. Immediately Light gets to work disguising the book to look like any ordinary journal. He thought for a moment if he should use this new note, who the hell would he even try it on?

Light heard a laugh and looked behind him, there was a…strange creature. They looked like shinigami if they were a mix between some kinda sex demon with horns and a tail to add to the effect. The shinigami gave him a wave with a sharp-toothed smile.

“Pleased to meet you Light Yagami, I’m the Shinigami of the specialized Heat Note, you can call me Rias.” They said, cocking their head to the side, with a wide grin.

“So why does your death note specifically kill with heat?” Light asked, getting straight to the point.

“Because it’s fun, I’m sure Ryuk has told you but the Shinigami world is boring, so after I got my second death note I did a little tampering around it… And are you satisfied with that answer?” Rias asked as they clacked their nails together.

“I am, and does its unusualness end there? Is there more like I suspect to this heat note?” Light asked, spinning his pen around in his fingers. I am not satisfied. What kind of explanation was that?

“ You’re right, this is special because you don't have to have their actual name to kill them,” That surprised Light, in a good way. A sinister smile came to his face

‘This will be my chance to finally get rid of L’ Light thinks to himself loudly, his mind filled with twisted excitement. “Go on,”

“Well just as an example, if I wanted you to have a heat and die but I knew you as Kira, as long as you personally identified with that name and I had a clear visual of you in my mind the effects would still work. However there is one caveat, the victim has to be alone, or else they won’t die.”

“Alright, well I wouldn’t be the God of the New World if I didn’t have a plan”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Light watched from his private server as he waited for L to be incapacitated by the burning of his skin. This was all going exactly as planned and he would have L out of his life before he knew it.

Meanwhile with L

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

L was sitting/standing in a chair as he ate snacks, he was fine, not a single drop of sweat or irritations in the slightest. He sneezed and looked around for a moment then went back to munching on his snacks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Light looks over to the screen with angry confusion, how come he wasn't burning with…well anything? It didn’t work, but why did he not follow the rules precisely? Light opened the book back up and eyed over the set of rules. Why wasn’t L going into heat? Did it have a wait time like the death note? Light turns to face the God of lust, his face held a great irritation.

“What the hell, why didn’t this work” he half yelled.

“Don’t get testy with me, Light Yagami. I won't say it worked but I won't say it failed either.” Rias said with an eerily calm smile. The forever light lightbulb in Light’s mind got even brighter as I looked back and inspected the camera feed closer. “Butttt… I think you should look at those rules one more time.”

Light quickly scans through the book again and lets out a frustrated groan as he rereads the rules, it was the rule where the radius was mentioned and he holds back a curse. The target needs to be able to see him, and it causes him to seemingly glare at the god of lust who only seems to be amused. He looks back at the screen, and L is already gone he lets out a sigh as he realizes he would have to try again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a couple of days since his first attempt at using the heat note and a bunch of regular death note related deaths later he decided it was time to try and use the red book again. He had a plan for his time, he was going to invite L over, lock him in a room, and leave him until everything was over, most specifically L would be over.

He sent a simple text to L, mentioning some bullshit on how he thinks he has found Kira. He smirks as he waits for the message to be read. While he waited for L to get here he got ready to write his name down in the book.

He took a peak at the screen of his phone, his body filled with anticipation of getting rid of his rival.

The doorbell rings and Light hides a paper of the heat note in his back pocket, while twiddling with his pen between his fingers, he holds back a laugh as he opens the door to L’s hunched-over figure. L was biting his fingernail as he walked inside Light’s home.

“Hey L, Glad you could make it.” Light said, closing the door as L came in.

“What did you find out about Kira?” L makes himself comfortable on the nearest chair. Light moves to take his own seat, reaching into his pocket he touches the paper and has to hold back the urge to jump upon seeing Rias spawn out of nowhere with an unnatural grin on her face.

Light pulled some shit out of his ass about the “likeliest” suspect. Dori Nakamoto is a man with a few things on his record but nothing crazy yet.

“Now Light Yagami, You know that young man isn’t guilty of your crimes,” Rias laughed and snaked onto the back of the couch.

“Light we’re all out of apples- Oh hey Rias, haven’t seen you in a couple hundred years or so,” Ryuk said as he entered the living room.

“Oh, it’s you.” Rias snorts from the couch. Light was trying to ignore them both so he could focus on not being suspicious in front of L, especially when two shinigami were having a conversation.

“I got here just in time for the good to bad. I couldn't help but feel a little hurt that you want to kill your biggest rival with her help” Ryuk attempted to pout, but his eyes didn’t give light to any emotions. Light rolls his eyes and tries to pay attention to L and give him more of the information he lied about to get him to come to his place.

“Ok but what makes you think that this guy is Kira over any other suspect?” L asked, looking at Light.

“Well with searching online I found a forum that many of Kira’s worshippers use. After tracing back the IP addresses I found Nakamoto. That isn’t enough to pin him as Kira but then I remembered that I know this guy. He’s the grandson of the investigators my father has worked alongside before. Briefly, at a company dinner, I talked to him and he has a very radical way of thinking, one that aligns perfectly with Kira. it’s not enough to arrest him however I think we may have overlooked him as a serious suspect.”

Light knew that after doing some investigation it would be a stretch for Nakamoto to be Kira, that’s why he was never all that high up on the list, to begin with. However he didn’t need time to put together a better case, L would be dead before he could look into it.

“I’ll spell his name out for you to look him up later.” Light takes out his heat note paper, writes Nakamoto's full name down, and then writes for L on the paper before handing it over to L to have. Light holds back his smirk as he thinks about this being an easy end to his rival. Rias was cackling to herself in the corner.

“Sayu and my mom brought me this cake, where she got it from I’m not quite sure. You want a piece?” Light asked.

L nodded and Light went into the other room and cut a piece of cake. He let himself grin for a moment. Finally, I'll be rid of him.

L was sweating, a single bead of sweat rolled down his temple and his stance was 0.13% more relaxed than usual. He has put his snacks down, picked up his phone and looks at the time, he then gets up, cuts off the chair, and gets ready to leave the room.

But the door ringing catches both their attention. Light goes to the door to open it and holds back a loud groan with a slight cough. The person who was at the door was no other than Misa Amane who slid her way into Light’s house.

“Light! Aren’t you so happy to see me.!” Misa said, throwing her arms around Light.

“Yeah so happy.. Why are you here?” Light said in a dry tone even if he tried to fringe happiness.

“I came to see you because I missed you of course” She plops herself onto his couch giving a small wave to L who was just staring at the both of them with wide eyes while also eating the dessert.

“I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back. “ His eye twitched ever so slightly, he turned to leave before anyone could say anything to him, he needed to gain his composure that was getting ready to slip as his anger rose due to Misa’s presence.

Rias tapped Light on the shoulder and handed him a folded-up piece of paper. Light opened it up to see startlingly detailed drawings of him and Misa surrounded by a heart with the words Light and Misa forever underneath. Light had to control his face so he didn’t react. Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.

“You and Misa are quite cute. Oh, I added a new rule by the way. Whenever I write down names in the note, I can control how long their heat is and whom they desire. So I want you, Misa, and L to have a good time together…” She pulls out a tiny wheel spinner from her pocket. She waits for a second to show him the options which range from twenty-four hours to a whole seven-day week period and then spins it.

Light watches the wheel spin with a feeling of slight dread but also irritation as he watches the arrow tick through the seven entries. The wheel starts to slow down before coming to a stop, like a cruel joke. It's between twenty-four hours and one week. But upon further staring and what Light wants to assume was cheating or at least rigged actions afoot it was a couple of centimeters in one week.

“Oh lookie here...for the next one hundred sixty-eight hours, unless you want to die of course,” Rias said with a shit-eating grin on her face. Light had reached his boiling point as he watched Rias leave the bathroom.

Light clenched his fists and his eyes felt like they were going to boil and flow right out of the socket. He thought he was humiliated when L showed up at his school, well this was an all-time low. Not only was his plan ruined but now he was stuck with that meddling Rias for the rest of his life. His fingers twitched as he clawed at his hair.

“Dammit, dammit, dammit!” He whispered loudly, he stared at the note Rias gave him with fury before ripping it all up into tiny little pieces and throwing it all in the trash.

“Light… you okay in there,” Misa asked, knocking softly on the door. Light took a deep breath before straightening back up and fixing his hair.

“I’m fine,” He called out, he had to get it together and calm down before he went off the handle. He can do that, it's not that hard to pretend to be calm and collected.

Rias pops her head through the door while poorly holding in her laughter. “Oh one more thing, it's going to affect you more aggressively because you are the designated helper for both of your guests” She holds back a snicker before leaving to probably go listen to Light have a meltdown from outside the door.

Light’s entire body was tense with fury and he tried not to let out a scream. He ran his hand through his hair haphazardly enough to tousle and distress in his current style. Why him, there were so many rotten individuals out there and somehow he just had to have the bad luck of .00000000145 to find the heat note.

No, if anything he was glad, it would be a problem if someone other than him had a death note, Misa was already enough. He straightened up and combed his hair back into place, spending the next minutes trying to make himself presentable and ignoring the seething feeling that was still very much there, threatening him to come undone at any moment. Maybe it was the awareness that it was going to happen but he already felt like the feverishness was starting.

He shook it off and turned the cold knob to open the door. As he walked down the hall he could hear the chattering of Misa’s voice.

“Okay Now hand me that pillow… yeah right there…and then we’re gonna put this here…”

When he walked into the living room he didn’t know what he was expecting, however, it certainly wasn't L and Misa making a nest. He stood in the door frame with a blank expression. They had taken the two seater and the square ottoman and pressed them against the three-seater to make a pseudo “pit”. The throw pillows were arranged around the backs of the couches for what he assumed was extra plush. So this is really happening. He shook his head before calling out to get their attention.

“What are you two doing in my living room?” The two of them looked over at him like they had been caught committing a crime but also with a glint of excitement.

“Making a nest, it’s not nearly cozy enough in here,” Misa said with a bright smile. “Come join us,” She said, ushering him over. It’s a bit strange for an omega to so readily invite not one but two alphas to build a nest with her, but maybe the pre-heat was making us release omega pheromones? He sniffed the air as we walked over, the air certainly did have a particularly “omega-ish” smell about it. He could smell Misa’s soft magnolia and brown sugar scent and a softer version of L’s usual fresh linen scent. It was certainly a calming smell if nothing else.

Light came over to join them and they laid down in the finished product at Misa’s behest. The finished product had taken the mattress topper from Light’s bed along with his duvet, sheets, and pillows. Misa had a stash of blankets that she added to it as well as shoving some of Light’s worn shirts between the pillows and under the blankets.

“Is it always this hot inside nests?” L asked.

“No, Light, do you have the heat on?” Misa asked, looking over to him.

“No, you know I keep it on 21,” He answered. Satisfied with his answer or not they didn’t ask any more questions. It does feel particularly warm in here, in fact, it did feel rather hot.

“But it is kinda hot in here I’ll cut it down a bit” As he walked over to the thermostat to cut it down a bit he pulled on the collar of his shirt, trying to get some coolness.

Light stood there silently thinking to himself, his face blank as he internally screamed and cursed Rias for what she had put him through. Misa grabbed his hand to force him into the nest they had created even when he felt like he should have yanked his hand off her. He could picture himself blowing off the handle and slapping her and everyone else in here including the shinigami if he could manage it. But he needed to remain calm, after all this was just a minor… major setback. The fact that Rias had put his life at risk just because she felt like it, made him pissed off more than he could fathom his rage.

Not only that but if he and Misa are out of commission for a whole week then there’s no one to write names which after L came to he would find suspicious. The fact alone that two alphas are experiencing a heat is strange enough but this is like putting a big fat target on his back. Before the full heat set in, Light had to do something fast. Since it was to keep Misa out of trouble as well then perhaps he could convince Rem to write names down but how convenient was it that he didn’t see the Shinigami anywhere.

He runs upstairs to write a few scheduled names into the death note but it doesn't take long before he gets even more affected by the growing heat, and gets called to go back down with the others. He then goes back down the stairs with a buzzing in his head, this feeling was really starting to hit him like a train. He stumbles down to the living room, bumping into the wall as he does before seeing a sight.

Misa and L were pressed up against each other like they were trying to subtly crawl into each other's skins. Their eyes half-lidded as they sat next to each other when they, but mostly Misa had noticed Light standing In the doorframe. Misa beckoned Light forward to the nest, and he found himself walking over to them, his legs moving him before his thoughts could stop him. Next thing he knows sitting beside Misa, just watching L and her cuddled up, feeling the want to join them.

There was such a soothing aura that came from being in the nest, the soft smells emanating from L and Misa, along with the warmth of the blankets and pillows. He moved closer and closer until he was resting his head on his hand. It was so warm and cozy that he felt like he could fall asleep. L was lying on Misa’s lap and Misa had moved over so that she was leaning against Light, who had no energy to protest.

Light’s hands drifted to Misa’s head and his fingers ran her through silky soft blonde hair. Misa hummed in satisfaction, then Light started to get heavy eyes until he gave up and let them close fully.

»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»

Light woke up to an unbearable heat,(literally ) his body was caked with sweat that left his clothing stuck to his skin. He felt like he was going to melt, and he wanted to pry off his clothes. He brought his hands up and rubbed his eyes, hoping to refocus himself when he noticed Misa nuzzled up against L her hands under his white shirt. As she was in the middle of taking it off of him.

Light turned his head towards them, almost unbelieving what was going on, “What the hell are you two doing?”

The two looked over at him with flushed faces, L’s face was decorated by Misa’s red lipstick, their hair was messy and they had their hands down each other’s metaphorical pants because they had discarded the pants and underwear. Misa sits up much to L’s dismay and crawls over to Light, who is finally awake enough to start feeling angry about the fact that he was in this predicament.

“Light~ You’re finally awake! Come join us,” she jumped into his lap and wrapped her hands around his neck. He could smell her so strongly it almost made him dizzy. He leaned forward and breathed in the sweet scent and he found himself on her hips. She shivers and places a kiss on his cheek and then she travels to kiss his neck.

L was watching with half-lidded eyes and his hands falling to his cock which felt harder than ever before. His hand gently starts to spread the leaking precum from his tip, the clear liquid dripping down his shaft. He was sensitive, that was for sure and his eyes looked over to the two in front of him.

Misa, now completely topless has taken Light's shirt off and the two were making out. Light's hands were groping at Misa's breast and each soft sound she made was like a trigger to them both. L tightens his grip with a moan of his own as he starts to stroke himself.

Light felt like he was bulging out of his pants, especially with Misa on top of him. He let go of her momentarily causing whine to leave her wet lips. Light had a deep urge to get out of his clothes which were getting soaked with sweat and tight down below. He peeled off his top and made work on the bottoms. Misa watched while giggling, she placed a kiss on his cheek before turning to glance at L who was touching himself. She licked her lips, scooting herself in the middle between the two.

“You do it too okay,” Mika said, taking Light’s hand and placing it upon his throbbing cock. Light hissed at the touch. The feeling of anything touching him was almost too much but he craved stimulation so desperately. It was such a foreign feeling, to be this needy.

They all lay in the back of the nest, slouching as their hands moved against themselves. L moved his hand at a slow pace with a tight grip. The excessive amount of precum that leaked from his aching cock made it easy to stroke up and down his length.

Meanwhile, Misa used her hand to spread her slick across her entire cunt, taking the pads of her fingers to add pressure on her clit, rubbing circles into the sensitive bud. Her other hand massaged one of her breasts. Her delicate fingers knead them like dough.

Light was getting lost in the whirlwind of thoughts flying around his head. His cock throbbed in the loose grip of his hand. He was an alpha going through a heat after all and it was a completely different feeling compared to a rut, it felt more intimate, more out of control, and more vulnerable.

Light let out a groan, as his eyes drifted over to Misa, who was pushing a set of fingers inside her slippery folds. As soon as they entered her wet hole she let out a wanton moan. He tightens the grip on his cock and starts to stroke himself better. Then his eyes met L's who was looking right back at him. He held back the action to kiss his teeth, a part of him wanted to blame L for them all being in his situation. But he knew that it was particularly his fault for trying to kill him using the god-forsaking book and then the other…other half knew it was Rias fault for even writing his name into the book.

L was also in his head, he felt like he was getting closer to climax, his balls tightening up and his dick twitched in his hand as he got ready for release. He never thought he could feel this kinda horny right now. L took in sharp breaths as he came, squirts of milky white fluid shot up and out landing on his torso and getting spread over his pulsating cock as he rutted up into his hand.

Despite having just cum he was still so painfully hard, so he kept stroking himself. L twisted his wrist, trying to fulfill the abhorrent lust that consumed his entire being. He was still sensitive but he couldn’t stop either, so he kept on. More and more and more and more and MORE. His body demanded it of him. All he could look forward to was a sweet release in hopes that it would temper this fever.

Light on the other hand was letting out a hiss as he got himself closer, his eyes were closed as he rocked his hips into his hand. This was all their fault, he could list a bunch of reasons on how this went wrong but they all felt like that was mattering less and less as he got to his peak. He was overcome with his desire for something more intimate so he opened his eyes to look for his target.

He grabs Misa’s working hand and pulls her on top of him, she gets the silent messages and she gets on top of him. She pressed herself on his needy aching cock and rubbed her wet cunt, they both let out a moan. She rocked her hips slowly, loving the feeling of the head of Light’s cock teasing her clit with every moment.

Small wet noises came from the sound of her lower lips, which were drowned with vicious slick, being parted by Light’s cock. However, the sounds of wetness were drowned out by the sweet moans from Misa. Light began to rock his hips in tandem with her, reaching up and gripping her hips.

Misa, leaned down, rolling her hips deeply. He pressed her lips to Light’s, licking his lips for entrance which was quickly granted. Their tongues writhed around together, the fleshy pick muscles twisting and wriggling with each other.

“Fuck-” Light moaned into Misa’s mouth, he could feel her pussy fluttering just begging to be fucked, but something else was itching around Light’s brain something that he’d never thought he’d experience, something that he was going to shove to the back of his mind not to think about.

Misa pulled herself away from Light’s lips and he barely stopped himself from letting out a needy moan. No, this isn’t happening. Light thought, he shook his head, he refused to let the heat delirium get to him. Misa switched around so her back was to Light and leaned over to take L’s throbbing member out of his hand. L let out a groan as her soft warm hands began to slowly caress his schlong.

Her soft plump lips came down around the L’s tips and her tongue flicked over his hole. The taste of his salty precum took over her taste buds. As Light’s dick brushed against her clit she moaned and the vibrations made L groan. L could feel Misa smile around his length before she widened her jaw and took more of him into her mouth. Misa hollowed her cheeks out as her head bobbed up and down; her saliva sliding down and mixing with L’s precum.

MIsa felt her legs start to shake and sat up slightly, her back arching as she let out a carnal moan. Light was rutting his cock between her folds. Misa was bent over, ass up and pawing at L. She takes his moist cock in her hand and brings it back up to her plush lips, L fell back, as anticipation filled him. When their eyes met a shiver ran down L’s spine at the lustful look Misa had in her eye.

She was bobbing her head on him slowly, getting a good taste of him on her tongue. L shivered with every vibration she would make from her moans. Light was enjoying the feeling of Misa’s lower lips pressed against her, he wanted to push himself into her but he wanted to have what L was having and he wanted it now.

“Oh!” L let out a hushed sound as he felt the familiar feeling as he gripped the messy sheets. He squeezed his eyes tight and got ready for the satisfaction of Misa’s efforts.

Misa lets out a pained moan as she gets yanked off of L, who lets out a few muttered curses as he cums, his load oozing out of him like a sad leaky faucet. He lets out a string of huffs and puffs as he watches Misa get flipped over and roughly placed on Light’s tweaking shaft. He glares at the other man, his blood simmering ever so slightly as he witnesses the sight before him. Light had a firm grip on Misa’s blonde locks and rocked his hips into her face.

Misa was drooling as her mouth tried to compensate for the fiction of Light’s thrust, it almost caused her to choke on it with how much force he was putting into each movement. His dick bullied its way to the back of her mouth and hit the back of her throat like a bullseye. He could feel her gagging around his length, the way he thrust into her mouth was a bombardment to her senses. Her hand traveled down to rub circles to her clit and she moved her fingers in tight circles. She takes him the best she can, pretty much going limp in his lap so he can have the control he wants his hips start to stutter within her mouth. She sucked on him as she helped him get off and she could feel her eyes roll back from the angle he was holding her in place.

Light let out a growl of pleasure as he got ready to blow his load, which he had no plans of pulling out anytime soon. Misa could feel the slick dripping down her fingers and thighs, she felt like the start of a dam getting ready to burst. Light slams her face onto the hilt of his cock, making sure to empty his balls, his hot seed filling her mouth and she makes sure to swallow all of it. Light’s cock swelled up at the base, her legs gave out and she slick as she was overwhelmed with her pleasure.

Misa’s mouth was stretched wide as she had Light’s knot in her mouth, L gripped the waist to help pull her off of Light, Her teeth scraped against his cock when the obvious popping sound when she got off of him.

“Dammit bitch that hurt!” he cursed, before sitting down, and Misa mutters an apology while rubbing her jaw.

The smell of sex permeated the air and the sweet sweet smell of omega, there was the new smell of Alpha. It made Misa’s inner omega preen and L’s as well? While it was strange he tried not to think much of it, it best not to fret about these things too much at the moment. The pheromones of an alpha made them want to present, they could feel slick leaking out their holes which ached to be filled.

“Light~” Misa whined, as she rubbed her thighs together.

Misa’s pupils were blown out with need as she prompted them to fuck her. Light moved first, he dug his fingers into her hips and backside while pushing himself into her. His cock sunk in between her dripping walls as she clenched around him. She lets out a moan, her back arching off the floor of the nest. Light rolled his hips into hers, holding her waist in place as he started to thrust into her. He picks up the pace, and every slam of his hips makes the fat of thighs and butt jiggle. Misa could feel herself molding against Light’s cock like a glove. She began meeting his thrusts, and her fingers moved back down to her clit.

Despite Light's efforts to hold her place, Misa wiggled her hips so the pad of her fingers could get a better angle on her already sensitive bud. She stiffened her fingers as much as she possibly could so she could apply above pressure. Wet plaps reverberated around the room as Light drilled into Misa's overflowing cunt.

The combined stimulation of Light drilling into her and her fingers circling her clit turned her brain to mush. All she could think about was trying to cum over and over again.

“Oh yes, Yes YES!” Misa was mumbling to herself over and over as Light hit her walls with a weighted fervor.

The heavy pheromones Misa released made L feel a bit feral and animalistic like he wanted to pounce on her at any moment. The dominating alpha scent emanating from L made Light grow and grip Misa tighter. The two dominating aromas caused a frenzied pleasure to coil up in Misa, it felt like she could come any second.

Misa’s moans got louder and her body trembled and she was squeezing Light’s dick in a vice grip. Light let out an unsatisfied groan as he feels Misa fluttering around his length. He wasn't as close as Misa was and his body was hitting her with active frustration.

L slowly stroked himself as he made his way in front of Misa’s face. His scent right on her face makes her let out a whimper. She opened her mouth to let out a moan only for it to become stuffed by L’s cock causing the muffled vibrations of her moans to surround L.

Misa’s eyes rolled in the back of her head from the pure ecstasy she was feeling; the two men pushing her back and forth between them. Misa's body tensed up as she came, yet none of that mattered to either of the men.

A few curses slipped from Light’s lips as Misa’s warm pussy tightened around him. The grip she had on his cock made him fill her with his seed, he slapped her ass once as she began pitching back on his cock faster. L was gently holding Misa’s chin as he thrust into her face slowly.

Misa fell slack between them, as they both pounded into her, Light plunging into her pussy and L beating against the back of her throat. The slick almost makes Light’s length slip out of her but it stops becoming a problem when he feels his knot start to swell. His hips were flush against her hips as his warm cum spilled inside her. His knot fit snugly in her walls and L ran his hand through Misa’s hair before going to hold it in a loose grip. He started to move faster. She took one of her hands and massaged L’s balls, his head fell back as he let out a moan.

He was getting close to filling her mouth, and L wanted to make sure that Light wouldn’t ruin his orgasm like last time so he tightened his grip on her hair. He rocked her hips into her mouth, she could feel him throbbing in her mouth and the jittering of his balls in her hands. Misa lets out a sultry moan around his cock as he gets ready to cum, after he does his knot locks up between Misa’s teeth. The warm liquid coats her throat as she works to swallow his cum to avoid the risk of choking on the thick concoction.

Light slowly rocked his hips into Misa in an attempt to get his knot out of her. Misa was trembling with every slight movement either of them made inside her. L had managed to lodge his knot out of her mouth with a wet pop and gently rubbed her jaw to help soothe her.

Light pulled Misa back into his lap so he could sit down, pushing himself deeper into her cunt. L had fallen back on the bedding of the nest, his eyes starting to close and he fell asleep. His body is getting comfortable in the nest. Light roughly grips one of her breasts as they wait for him not to go down enough to pull out of her. He needed something to do after all so maybe he could make her cum while they sat stuck together. He ran down her body and along her body, as he felt her up slowly before he got to between her legs where they were connected.

Misa tried to bounce on Light’s dick, as much as she could with Light’s knot still stuck inside her. Her fingers came up to twist and tweak her puffy rosy nipples. High-pitched moans and random babbles fell from Misa's lips as she was fucked to another orgasm.

Her pussy squelched and gushed around Light’s cock which with a little work was now able to slide out of her as he shot a few ropes of cum to the outside of her pussy and the sweaty and slicked skin of her plushy ass

Light’s head falls back as he tries to regain his composure and resist the urge to fuck Misa through her tired orgasm, and instead pulls out of her now that his knot had gone down enough for him to pull out, his eyes just so happen to glance at Rias and Ryuk were casually playing cards.

Ryuk had a shitting-eating grin and was snorting while Rias was slamming the cards down; then she noticed that Light was looking back at them and gave him a wink, before jumping to pursuable jump Ryuk for the game they were playing. Then they both run off before he could make any subtle comments to either of them.

They were all exhausted and they snuggled together, as they caught up on their energy. The sheets were messed up and they were using each other for warmth. Light was lying on his back, breathing slowly, Misa’s head was against his chest and L was lying on her thighs. They slept for a few hours before one of them started to stir, L is the one waking up.

L was trailing his way up Misa’s body, he was so horny, wrapped in a desire to do something to satisfy his urges. He slid his way between her legs, she was wet with slick, and glistening with her waterfalls of arousal she made each time she came. He licked his lips, breathing in her scent before moving in to give her an open mouth kiss. He uses the tip of his tongue to taste her, and enjoying her liquid he decides to better dive in.

His tongue plunged into her wet cunt and like a man in the desert finding an oasis he eagerly lapped at her love juices. He could hear Misa in her sleep letting out small moans. Her voice sounded so cute and her soft sweet omega smell only made him want to ravage her further. He sank his full face in her nectar, running his tongue between her folds and pushing it into her hole.

His fingers came up to plunge into her cunt. His ring and middle finger scissored apart to spread her creamy home open. Her slick was so sweet, he just wanted to thrust up into her and fill her with his knot. He could taste the mixture of her slick and Light’s sperms on his tongue as he pushed his fingers deeper into her.

“M..mhm…” Misa moaned as her eyes fluttered open.“Ryuzaki…?” Misa asked sleepily, her voice a bit hoarse and her eyes still half-lidded.

“Shh… just… just don’t worry about me,” L said as he began sucking on Misa’s sensitive clit. Moans escaped her mouth and her fingers dug into L’s disheveled mop of black hair. She pulls him flush against her gooey slit as her eyes close for a few moments, savoring the feeling and trying to fight the sensitivity that she was still feeling before she went to sleep. Her hips were undulating slowly as he struggled to stay still.

He curled his fingers into her and sucked on her clit with sloppy kisses and playfully gently bites. It caused her to jump and another groggy moan left her tired body. She was rubbing her hips into L's face and yanking him forward into her as he ate her out. L starts to hold her in place and keeps his pace, thirsting his slender fingers in and out of her sloppy entrance. her slick was drenching his face and the sheets below them. But it was not anyone's problem, they could worry about it when they didn't feel like they were burning from heat, literally being consumed with desire to be claimed and fucked.

He works her through a surprisingly quick orgasm that had snuck up on her before it happened. She shivers and L mutters a compliment on her flavor and says sweet things in his respective way. Misa reached up a subtly took off the bite collar she had on and tucked it away somewhere between the fluff of the nest.

“Hey Ryuzaki, you know what would really help with this situation? Biting. You should bite Light, when he wakes up he’ll feel better and totally thank you,” Misa said, hanging off L’s shoulders.

“What about us?” L asked raising a fair point…Misa thought about it a bit before giving a lazy smile.

“We’ll bite each other of course, here I’ll show you, " Misa said, her lips coming and kissing on L’s trapezius right next to his scent glands. As her lips and pointed canines ghosted over L’s skin a shiver went down his spine.

“Won’t that be a mate mark?” He asked.

“What? Of course not~ mate marks are higher up on the neck, trust me I’m an omega I know these things,” Misa said. It wasn’t per se that L was ignorant, far from it he was actually dead on about them being mate marks. However, the heat had turned his beautiful brain to mush and he was in a complete daze.

Naturally, that’s how Misa ended up sinking her teeth into L’s tender flesh. He groaned at the mix of pain and pleasure. A shiver ran down his body and he closed his eyes as his body processed what was happening. Misa licked over the mark before pulling away.

“See you don’t feel mated do you?” L shook his head. Not yet at least. He went to bite Misa and she let out a small moan.

L bent down to where Light slept, a bit restlessly, and began kissing and licking his neck, it smelled so amazing he did feel the urge to bite him. So he did. Light’s eyes widen and he lets out a hiss, his side eyes L.

“What the fuck…!” Light muttered out low curses before getting hit with a wave of the heat, and the new feeling of a mate mark forming. once L had removed his teeth out of the other man Light was quick to shove him back. A frown on his face as he got ready to give him hell.

“Light, what's wrong?” Misa asked, sliding closer to him.

“What’s wrong? Ryuzaki just bit-“ Light clutched his head and he hissed. Misa came around to cradle Light’s head and began releasing more pheromones. The scent was a little dreamy and helped pacify his previous anger.

“It’s alright it was just a little nibble,” Misa said, kissing the corner of Light’s mouth. Light grumbled but Misa ignored it and continued peppering kisses on Light’s face. She tilted her head to the side exposing her scent glands that were silently calling for Light, bite me, bite me! They seemed to say. Light kisses Misa’s jaw, traveling his way down to her neck reluctantly as he is drawn closer to mark her.

“Bite me,” Misa said in a low seductive whisper.

“I’m not mate marking you,” Light said in between suckling hickies onto her neck, a small whimper came from her mouth before she spoke. L was silently watching them talk, his eyes switching between Misa and Light, seeing them in a new light.

“It’s not a mate mark,” Misa replied softly, Light sighed, his tongue licking over his teeth. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t didn’t want to bite Misa, he just wanted to avoid mating with her if possible. Light nibbled and nipped at Misa’s tender neck. As he went in for a deeper bite Misa suddenly shifted and he bit right into her trapezius. Misa gasped and Light’s eyes dilated as his teeth sank into her skin, he quickly pulled away.

“Dammit Misa!” Light cursed, glaring harshly at Misa, his hands flexed and his eyes twitched. His alpha was yelling at him for raising his voice at Misa, his (unfortunate) new mate and L was looking at him with a dark look. It was a warning. Only now he was seeing the marks on their necks. Misa rubbed her thighs together and Light could smell her sweet slick, of course, she was getting off on this. Light thought.

“Misa you lied,” L said, even if he couldn't find it in his body to stay mad at his new mate.

“Well technically no, it did make everything better right.?” She placed a hand on him and gave him a sweet smile.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the smartest detective in the world or whatever? How did you believe her?” Light asked, looking at L with a glower.

“Look I’m not really thinking straight right now ok,” L shrugged and massaged his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah Light, that’s just how heats are,” Misa said, defending the black-haired man. They all sat silent for a moment, it was the first time any one of them had actually said it.

“But like why are you two going through a heat in the first place, Like I’m not even due for my heat until a few more months ” Misa murmured.

“That's actually a good question.”

“Uh… hormonal imbalance” He was sweating, it was nervousness he was feeling but then it got worse.

Light suddenly felt extremely hot, beads of sweat rolled down his skin and his hair stuck to the sides of his face and his forehead. He laid back in the nest and wiped his arm over his forehead. His chest heaved as he tried to regulate his overwhelming fever. His hole was leaking slick and puckering around nothing. He was so unbelievably horny but it was so different from his usual horniness. He had been trying to push down the feeling but he couldn’t deny it anymore, he felt so severely submissive.

He was holding back whimpers and whines that led L and Misa to pick up on his needs. L felt his eyes constrict as he moved closer to Light’s hole, he pushed his finger into his hole, and it gave him no problems. Light jumped at the intrusion he pushed his finger all the way in before pulling it out and getting the taste of Light on his tongue. Then he pushes another finger in after he adds the first,

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” L starts to slowly trust his fingers and it shuts him up if only for a moment, his cock was throbbing as he felt the need to fuck the man who had his legs open for him. He licked up any of the dripping clear lubricants that came out of his hole. He was feeling like he was having a heart attack due to the overwhelming desire to be fucked.

He was sucking up his slick and thrusting his fingers into Light until he watched his cock twitch from just the penetration of his fingers alone. His tongue flicked up to his balls and back down his fingers spreading open Light’s easy hole. He held back slutty moans as L’s fingers curled up to push against his oozing walls. He gets a definitive sound when L hits his prostate. Light bites his lips and covers his flushed face. He felt like his heart was going to stop if he didn't get something more now, his heart was skipping beats as he felt like he was going cum by getting his asshole fingered. Light's ass lifts, his back arches, and his cock spasms, shooting a weak load to fall back onto him.

“You taste so good that I have to have you now” L pulls his fingers out of his slip ‘n slide hole with a wet sound.

L rubbed his tip along Light’s hole that was soaked with slick. Light turned his head to the side trying to hide his expression as L teased his needy hole. Light suppressed a whimper as L pushed the head of his cock into his ass. L let out a groan at the feeling of the tightness around his cock. He slowly pushed his way into the tense entrance, L let out a groan and Light almost screamed. Misa scoots over and pats his damp hair. Light closes his eyes to try and get used to the feeling of someone inside of him.

“Just relax, it’s not gonna feel good when you’re clenching so tightly,” L said to Light. L starts off slow with his thrusts, as he tries to help him get used to his length filling his canal up till his hips are flushed against his. He then sped up and rocked his hips at a medium pace, while holding Light’s legs apart. Thrusting his hips in an upward motion L let out a pleasured sigh as his hips pushed in and out of the other man. Light bit his lips to trap the noises of pleasure that itched to escape his mouth. It felt so good but he wanted more, it wasn’t enough to temper the fierce heat. Finding just the right angle L shot his fat tip right against Light’s prostate and he couldn’t help the sob that escaped from his mouth.

“Since Light won’t say it, keep doing whatever it is you just did,” Misa said with a giggle. Light could tell her heat was kicking back up by the way she rubbed her thighs together. However, that wasn’t something that he could help with when L was rearranging his guts.

L learned more on top of Light, biting him in places he could easily reach, littering him with hickeys on his chest and even a few on his arms. He held the angle he thrusted into him over and over, the time between his trust getting shorter and shorter as he moved rougher. As L roughly fucked into Light’s squelching hole his heavy balls slapped against his ass. The constant barrage left is ass reddened. L could feel like Light was close to climax from the way he squeezed around him. He found himself holding off on his orgasm so he could continue thrusting into Light’s hole. From the way Light spasmed around him he expected to see a few ropes of cum spurt out from his cock however slick clear liquid gushed around his cock, and a whimper escaped Light’s mouth.

Misa reached down and swiped her fingers through the juices before giving it a taste; she let out a satisfactory hum. It had a nice mild sweetness to it but was still alpha-ish somehow like a softer sweeter version of his cum is what she deduced. L’s head fell down as he felt the constriction of Light’s walls on him, he could feel himself getting closer. He tightens his grip on Light’s legs and pulls him into his lap, he folds him over and thrusts up into Light who grips the messy sheets. He was letting out whimpers of his own, feeling the smell of their heats on overdrive.

He felt his mouth salivate as he was overcome with the urge to complete the mate mark. He let his teeth aching to sink into him. Each thrust felt like he was being called and begged to submit and bite him. He had pulled L closer as if he had already known what Light wanted. L tilted his neck for Light to bite him and when he did they both let out a shaky moan. It made them shiver and it added a blanket of pleasure, it was feeling all kinds of good and it almost made him wish he would have done it sooner, but he knew when he got the better thought in mind he’d regret it. That thought seems to sum itself up when Misa pulls his neck to the side and bites him afterway. He couldn’t do anything nor did he want to do anything about any of it at the current moment. He was far too distracted by what L was doing to him.

Along with the new angle, and official marks, it all came a whole new dimension of pleasure, Light was drooling with pleasure, he felt like he couldn't get enough of the feeling and his head weakly tried to reach for something to grab on to as he gets ready for an all intense orgasm as he felt the subtle growing of L’s knot getting bigger within him. His eyes were watering and he refused to look up at L as he pounded into him. It was all too much for Light, as he had overcome him like a volcano ready for eruption. His cum had shot out of him, getting on himself and a bit on L’s exposed lower half.

“There you go” Misa had made her best efforts to soothe Light with his orgasm, he let out a string of moans as he clenched around L which sent the other alpha into a frenzy, he rutted against him as he got to his own peak. His cock throbbed, his grip tightened on Light's legs when he held them far apart to slam his hips into him. His knot swelled and he cums inside of Light, all that seemed to cause a funny feeling to burn in Light's chest. L collapses on top of Light, as cum gets even more on them both. They were both huffing and puffing as they lay stuck together by L’s knot

The week went by with little sleep and a lot of sex, some passionate and some rather rough.

On the second day, L was woken up to Light pounding Misa on her hands and knees. Such lewd loud moans were coming from her mouth. It was a wonder that he hadn’t woken up sooner.

“Ah- Ah Light, you feel so good~” Misa moaned. Her pussy creamed around him as he pistoned into her g-spot over and over again. The fat of her ass rippled as Light’s hips slapped against hers. With every second and every thrust, they came closer to cumming.

“Knot it please, cum inside! I want your pups~” Misa whined. Light certainly does not want to get Misa pupped up. The through did make his dick twitch, however.

“Oh fuck! m’ gonna cum~” Misa cried out. The coil that had been slowly winding in her core snapped and she was hit by overwhelming pleasure, yet, Light didn’t stop the assault on her cunt.

“L-light wait, I can barely take it,” But light continued, his cock burying itself further into Misa’s cunt. Her eyes rolled back and her mouth hung open dumbly as all she could even think of was Light’s cock bullying its way into her pussy. It seemed like the pleasure would never stop like Light was going to be fucking into her abused cunt for hours. (it was five more minutes)

“Oh~ so fucking tight” Light moaned as his knot caught on the inside of Misa’s wet cavern and filled up her womb with his sticky seed.

Misa fell asleep with Light’s knot still inside her. A considerable amount of time later, after much caressing, fucking sucking and mutual masturbation L crawled over and pawed at Lights’s thighs. They lay on their sides, facing each other. L’s lips came around his tip, He licked over the slit and his tongue swirled around Light’s angry red tip.

Meanwhile Light was licking stripes up L’s throbbing length. Light wouldn’t exactly say that he had come around to having an alpha over him. The feeling of wanting to submit to someone in the way he did with L was foreign but not exactly unwanted, at least while he was suffering through this heat, afterwards, he could find a solution to the situation. Light’s head bobbed up and down, taking half of L’s length into his mouth. At one point Light was quite literally fucking into L’s mouth, his cock routinely hitting the back of his throat and sliding against his tongue.

Avoiding knotting in each other's mouths they reluctantly pulled away from each other and Light’s ego was repaired a bit by topping L. Pressing his tip against the tight ring of muscle. Light positioning L onto his back, L looks up at him while frog blinking. He moved between his legs.

Towards the middle of the week, it felt like a blur, whether it was intentional or not it was completely hard to remember all that had happened. Yet one person seemed to know enough of what had happened, and that was Misa. She told them that in the heat of the moment they had shared an intimate feeling with each other while L was stuck again inside Light for what felt like longer for his knot to go down. Misa wasn’t going to let them forget it. In fact, Misa may or may not have gotten a picture or two of the two men making out with a loving passion.

Sometime at the end of the week, they all woke up in the middle of the night with slick covering their thighs and unbearable heat in their stomachs, it was so much worse than the rest of the days, Misa explained that towards the end of a heat, they get really intense. L was balls deep in Misa’s ass and Light was in front of her sucking on her clit. After Misa’s first orgasm Light plunged his way into Misa's pussy and they went at it for hours after, in various positions of course.

Then on the last day, they all felt like mushes of lusted and sweaty blobs and the fabrics of the nest were crunchy. Some of them look like an old abandoned sock of a questionable recluse penis haver. The amount of sex they had was extreme and sweaty and hot but in the end at least they all came out alive.

Being a polyamorous mated pair wasn’t exactly in the plan for Light, however, he supposed he could work around it, he was going to be the god of the new world after all and he rationalized that it was perfectly reasonable for a god to have more than one mate (even if he had an alpha over him… for now at least), Well for now, all he had to worry about is cleaning up this nest. After washing their bodies, and the contents of the nest and reassembling it. They lay down in the nest Misa lay on Light's chest purring softly as she rubbed her wrist against Light’s scent glands and his clothes before doing the same with L and then the same with the other two. After thoroughly scenting each other they laid down. Light was lulled into peace by the for purring of Misa and the low rumbling of L. Before he fell asleep he looked up to see what Rias and Ryuk were doing,

Rias is juggling apples in her hand, a cheeky look on her face. “I'll give you Five apples for a smooch” She looked at him as she hopped closer to Ryuk, who was very much considering her offer.

“....Yes”

He sighed, wishing he hadn’t looked, and laid back down with his mates,

Notes: The Heat Note is a Concept we were hoping would become popular like an AU. If you're feeling particularly inspired feel free to write your own heat note story, just make sure to credit us and add the tag #The Heat Note.

80 notes · View notes