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lucysarah-c · 26 days ago

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Mounting Spring Ch. 4

Summary: Paradis has opened its doors to the world, and the Rumbling has not yet occurred. The military board insists, "We need more Ackermans!" to avoid ruining Mikasa's life. Levi agrees. Arranged marriage, explicit consent, Omegaverse. Alpha! Levi x Omega! Y/N. Mentions of underage marriage but it doesn't happen, the reader is over 21.Age gap but they are both adults. (I would say enemys to lover but they don't even know eachother to be enemys lol.) Author note: I've had this idea for so long… Omegaverse is my guilty pleasure, and I decided to treat myself with it. From the creator of "Not in season?" I bring to you "Mounting Spring" lmao haha sorry it's just that my first omegaverse was rather a success… so I decided to do another. Masterlist to the previous parts! Ao3 link in case you prefer to read there!

A weariness clung to his body, one he couldn’t quite explain beyond being so utterly drained that even taking a shower felt like a monumental effort.

With a weary sigh, he pushed himself up from where he’d been slouched against the desk and slowly blew out the candles scattered around the office. Darkness didn’t bother him. He was used to it—had spent years orienting himself in the black void of the underground. The faint moonlight spilling through the window was more than enough. Compared to those shadowed depths, this was child’s play.

That night, the moon seemed unusually bright. His tired gaze drifted to the large arched window behind his desk. Waxing moon… or was it full already?

‘Don’t they say some bullshit about omegas going into heat during the full moon?’

He scoffed. “Urban myth,” he muttered. It sounded like something out of a witch’s tale. But, come to think of it, wasn’t she supposed to be in season?

The stack of paperwork on his desk taunted him with the reminder that he’d probably have to pull an all-nighter. The thought made his jaw clench. After everything that had happened that day, he muttered a curt, “Fuck it,” and extinguished the last candle. The room plunged into shadow as he dragged himself toward the bathroom.

But then his attention snagged on the slightly ajar door leading to his bedroom. It wasn’t wide open, but it wasn’t shut either—a hesitation in its placement that mirrored her presence in his life. Maybe she didn’t feel she had the right to close it entirely. Or perhaps she didn’t want to invite him in.

Levi wasn’t sure what possessed him to check. Maybe he wanted to ensure she was asleep. Maybe it was just an excuse, though he hated the idea of coming off as some kind of creep.

The silence in the room was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his footsteps. His sharp ears picked up no stirring from the other side of the door. She was asleep—curled into a small ball beneath the blankets. Her face was peaceful, framed by a tangle of hair splayed across the pillow.

‘She looks young,’ he thought absently, then corrected himself: Younger.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and tore his gaze away. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” he muttered, retreating into the safety of the bathroom.

As he stripped off his clothes, a faint scent clung to the fabric. It wasn’t unpleasant—not even close—but it was strong enough to make his body react in a way he resented.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, frowning deeply. “It’s not my fault,” he groaned, trying to shake the thought from his head. She wasn’t in heat, after all. If she had been, he’d already be climbing the walls. He grimaced at the thought of what that would’ve meant—both a curse and a convenience. Her hormones would have made her eager, desperate even, and he… well, he wouldn’t have had the luxury to hesitate. Instinct would’ve taken over, and by now, it would all be over—messy, but over.

But she wasn’t in heat, and that was both a blessing and a complication. On one hand, it spared them both the humiliation of fumbling through something neither of them wanted. On the other hand, he was standing half-naked in his bathroom, trying to keep his thoughts clean while the girl he barely knew slept just a room away.

‘It’s like jerking off to the thought of a coworker,’ he thought with disgust. ‘Not illegal, but it feels like it.’

He needed a clear head—desperately. Most of his squad had gone through their ruts recently, their youth amplifying every primal urge. She smelled too good for a group of young, horny alphas to ignore. A cold shower might’ve been the smart choice, but the chill of the rain earlier still clung to his skin, and he just wanted to collapse into bed.

His bed wasn’t an option, though—not tonight. Instead, he grabbed a pillow from the couch in the corner of his office. He propped it against the armrest and sank down, throwing a thin gray blanket over himself. His head rested against his arm, and his other hand lazily scratched at his stomach, the hem of his shirt riding up. The dim glow of the moonlight played across the room, and he stared at the ceiling, eyes heavy but his mind restless.

“What the hell am I going to do,” he murmured to himself.

The sharpness of his fags could be perceived by his tongue that, under the foreign texture couldn’t stop feeling it. That, the thickness of his saliva and the clear feeling that his loose pants were perhaps a bit tight. It was obvious, she smelled too good, his own nature being highlighted by the time of the year and, in particular, the lack of exposure. Frowning and sighing loudly, he rolled over to a side searching for a position comfortable enough for him to fall asleep into.

Sleep came eventually. For Levi, sleeping on a couch with a makeshift pillow and a mission-worn blanket was a luxury compared to the alternatives. For once, exhaustion was kind.

On the other side of the room, her mind kept replaying the scene.

“Die. Just go. You’re making this harder for me,” she whispered, gripping the edge of the small French balcony of the borrowed household. The late-night air was cold against her skin as she stared down at the street below. It was late, the streets below barely lit, and her eyes darted nervously toward the door of her room before returning to the darkness beyond.

The young man standing below, dark-haired with striking gold eyes, still wore his military uniform. He looked up at her with an pleading expressing, “Come on, Y/N,” he called up, his voice a mix of desperation and imploring. “Are you really going to let it all go? I can talk to someone—someone higher up that with what’s going on. We can change this. You don’t have to do it.”

Her grip tightened on the balcony’s iron railing, her knuckles white with tension. She shook her head sharply, pressing her forehead to the cold metal. His words only deepened the ache inside her. Referring to her loss of the season to “what’s going on” made it sound trivial, dismissive, when it had torn her apart. “Stop it,” she whispered. Her voice trembled as she added, “I’m doing this for my family.”

“You don’t deserve this,” he said softly, his eyes locked on her. “You deserve the life you’ve worked for—just as much as your siblings do.”

“Y/N!”

The shout startled her, and she flinched, slamming the window shut as the door to her room swung open. She spun around, pressing her back against the glass, hands behind her to brace it closed. Her heart thundered in her chest, afraid of being caught—not by her two-year-old sister, but by someone who might hold more authority.

“What is it, Mae?” she asked, forcing calmness into her voice as the toddler raised her arms to be picked up. She obliged, hoisting the little girl onto her hip before sitting on the bed, her exhaustion evident. Her tangled hair framed her face, damp from the cold towels she’d used to try to soothe her pounding headache.

“Are you leaving because I used your makeup?” Mae pouted, her large, curious eyes searching Y/N’s face.

Y/N managed a tired smile. The memory of her two younger sisters destroying her makeup a few days earlier flickered briefly in her mind. Back then it had infuriated her, now it seemed like a distant worry. “No, Mae. I’m leaving because I’m getting married. Remember?” she said, her tone soft, trying to explain in a way the toddler could understand.

“What about being princesses?” Mae pouted harder.

It broke her. Tears welled in her eyes, and she pulled her sister into a tender hug. The pounding in her head and the dull ache in her lower belly were relentless, her body rebelling against her refusal to conceive this season—as if she’d had a choice.

Mae was innocence incarnate, her wide-eyed questions too pure for the weight they carried. But her older brother, on the other hand, had been no help. She’d found one of the WANTED posters of her soon-to-be husband plastered on her dressing table as a joke.

“You think this is funny?!” Y/N snapped, shaking the boy by his shoulders. Her anger surged, raw and unrestrained, but she bit back the urge to slap him. “I’m doing this for you, idiot! For you, for Ed, for Mom!”

“You’re not in charge,” the boy spat, his voice cracking but defiant. “Dad’s home, remember?”

The arrogance in his tone made her blood boil. Ever since their father’s return, the boy had become insufferable, emboldened by his status as the favored child and the budding dominance of his alpha nature.

“You want to be a man so badly? Then act like one and know your place!” she hissed, shoving the crumpled poster into his chest.

“You’re marrying a subversive,” he sneered with disdain, parroting words he clearly didn’t understand.

“I’m marrying someone who’ll make sure you don’t have to live off scraps and pity from the military, you little fool!” she snarled. Her hands trembled as frustration and heartbreak collided.

That memory dissolved into another—curled on her bed, her body wracked with cramps. The bathroom light, still on, spilled into the room. From the cracked door, she could hear her parents arguing. The light from the corridor illuminated the carpeted floor by the ajar door, casting her parents' distorted shadows like a muppets show against the ground.

“She needs to rest,” her mother said, trying to placate the man’s rising fury. “These things happens —”

“She’s ruining us!” her father screamed. “This was our chance, and she’s screwing it all up!”

Her sobs grew louder, muffled only by the pillow she pressed against her face. She lay with her back to the slightly open door, as if trying to shield herself from the conflict. They had been arguing for a while about the possibility, the events all pointing in one direction. That alone had fueled this outrage. ‘How am I going to tell them?’ The thought made her chest tighten with anxiety.

They argued over a possibility, now she had to confirmed them that it was a reality. Only minutes ago, she had walked to the bathroom—the golden light of the candle still flickering there. When her fingers came away stained with blood, the confirmation of what she already knew—her heat had passed, her body rejecting what it was supposed to do.

“She’s not doing it on purpose!” her mother argued.

“Then fix her! Give her some calming tea, call the damn doctor, do something! You think he'll keep her if she’s not useful?!”

She gripped the pillow tightly before tossing it over her head and pressing it hard against her face, as if she could make the world vanish for a moment. Silently pleading for the shouting to stop. ‘Please… just stop.’

None of the memories from the past week came to her in order; they just replayed chaotically in her mind. When her tired eyes fluttered open in the dim light of the room, she realized she had been tearing up in her sleep. The shadows cast inside the room weren’t her parents', and the voices weren’t theirs either. Sitting up slightly, she became aware of her surroundings. The sheets felt rough, and the mattress was smaller than what she was used to.

The memory of when she had fallen asleep completely eluded her, but the clock on the nightstand indicated it was already morning. She couldn’t tell by the window; the rain was still pouring heavily outside. The hushed whispers of two people on the other side of the room made her debate whether to sit up or feign sleep. She quickly chose the latter as the sound of someone opening the door reached her ears. Curling up in the bed, she pulled the sheets over her face, nearly hiding herself entirely.

With her face almost fully covered, the scent of the bed surrounded her. There was something subtly unsettling about the lingering fragrance of someone else on the sheets—a constant reminder that this wasn’t her bed. Yet, it wasn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, it was oddly soothing. Her decision to pretend to be asleep shifted into the realization that she could drift off again. Perhaps her subconscious was taking over, responding instinctively to the alpha's scent that enveloped her—a primal comfort, making her feel safe and protected.

—

“Hi~” came Hange’s singsong voice as they opened the door without knocking. “Knock, knock,” they added playfully, as if mocking the concept of knocking before barging in.

Levi, standing in the middle of the room with his uniform half on and a toothbrush in his mouth, turned to glance at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, I thought you’d be less ready at this hour,” Hange remarked, stepping fully into the room.

Levi spit out the toothpaste and wiped his mouth with a towel before muttering, “What are you doing here?” His eyes landed on the tray they carried. “And with a tray?”

“I brought breakfast for the newlywed couple!”

“Shh!” Levi hissed, moving swiftly to grab the tray before Hange accidentally dropped it. He motioned for silence, his expression stern. She was still asleep, and the message was clear.

“Sorry, sorry,” Hange whispered. As Levi set the tray on the coffee table and resumed getting ready, an unusual silence settled between them. It didn’t last long.

“So…” Hange began, their curiosity bubbling to the surface. “How was it? How is she?”

Levi ignored the question, muttering a vague reply through clenched teeth as he moved about the room, clearly trying to avoid the topic.

Hange’s sharp eyes followed him, their face shifting into a grimace as the tension grew. “I’m not exactly a purebred alpha,” they finally said, “but… you don’t smell very taken to me.”

Levi, who had just sneaked inside his room a little while ago to pick up his stuff, sighed loudly and stopped moving, giving himself a moment to respond. “… I couldn’t,” he admitted finally.

Hange pressed their lips together, unusually quiet for a moment. When Levi turned to face them, their expression said it all.

“Come on,” Levi snapped. “You’re a non-stop talker, and now you shut the hell up? Say something.”

“I’m… finding it.”

Levi rolled his eyes, grumbling in frustration.

“Oh boy…” Hange finally ventured. “Well. Maybe she was just tired? Tonight, after she’s settled—”

“We agreed I wouldn’t do it if she didn’t want to.”

The blank stare Hange gave him was enough to make Levi snap. “What did you want me to do?!”

“I don’t know?!” Hange exclaimed, throwing their arms in the air. “Claim her? Maybe?!”

From an outsider’s perspective, the exchange might have been hilarious—their expressions exaggerated, their words intense, yet still whispered fiercely to avoid waking her.

Levi scowled. “Well, excuse me. Excuse me for not being a fucking rapist.”

Hange’s attempt at a lighter tone wasn’t helping. “Some would argue that you are—you’re an alpha, after all.”

“You’re an alpha too, you idiot,” Levi shot back, finding no humor in their dark joke.

“Hardly. I’m more beta than alpha.”

Levi ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You should’ve seen the puppy eyes she gave me. I’ve got fucking lots of kinks, but that’s not one of them.”

Hange clicked their tongue and shook their head. “Omega puppy eyes… the deadliest weapon of all.” They crossed their arms, leaning back thoughtfully. “Zackly’s going to kill you, though.”

“Tch.” Levi rolled his eyes. “He can suck my dick.”

That made Hange laugh more than they should have. “Seriously, though—what the hell are you going to do with an unclaimed omega in the middle of a military facility? I can catch her scent, and I’m a low-breed alpha.”

“That’s what I was hoping you’d help me with,” Levi admitted, reluctant to ask for help but clearly out of his depth.

Hange didn’t answer, instead moving toward the door.

“No, no, no,” Levi muttered, darting across the room to stop them, but they had already cracked it open to peek inside.

“You’re going to wake her up,” Levi hissed, his whisper dropping to an even lower register.

Hange ignored him, their eyes fixed on the small portion of her face visible above the sheets. “… What about a convent? Maybe I can talk to a priest.”

“A convent?” Levi echoed in disbelief as his exasperation grew “That’s your solution?”

“Either that or bars on all the windows. No one gets in, no one gets out.” Hange turned to him, smirking.

Levi shot them his best deadpan expression. “We’ve gone from a convent to a prison. And you’re supposed to be the brains here?”

“I gave you a solution,” Hange retorted, leaning closer as their whispered argument continued. “Claim her.”

“I can’t!” Levi snapped, his frustration boiling over.

“Then trust,” Hange said, spreading their arms in a gesture of faith. “Then trust our soldiers. I trust them—they’ll behave,” though their tone sounded less certain with each word. “Maybe Jean will get a little too excited, like a puppy with a new toy, but he’s a good kid.”

Levi’s flat expression didn’t waver. “You trust Floch around her without me in the picture?”

The brunette, who had been sporting a confident, almost cheerful smile while defending the few original members of the Scouts before they were nearly wiped out, suddenly shifted to a serious, defeated expression. Waving a hand in the air, they muttered, "You made your point loud and clear."

The silence that followed was thick, as both stood by the door frame. Levi, arms crossed, was deep in thought. Meanwhile, Hange continued to stare at her, their eyes scanning her face across the dimly lit room.

"I’ll just… lock her up here for a couple of days until her scent calms down. It’s not ideal, but—"

Levi’s quiet musings, spoken with a defeated tone, were abruptly interrupted by Hange muttering under their breath, "She’s hella cute, though."

Levi’s hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose, clicking his tongue in frustration.

"What? Can’t I compliment your wife?" the brunette asked jokingly, still admiring the sleeping girl. They tilted their head to the side, trying to get a better view. "You’re one lucky bastard."

"Four-eyes!" Levi snapped, using the old nickname he hadn’t used in years out of respect for his friend’s new position. The commander chuckled. "Stop staring at her," Levi ordered.

"I’m doing nothing," Hange shrugged, though their eyes remained fixed on the sleeping girl.

"I can fucking smell you, idiot!" Levi growled, clearly indicating that he could easily detect how Hange’s body reacted to his new wife. The spicy, interested aroma they gave off was more than enough for Levi to know that Hange found her more than just pretty.

Hange barely contained a laugh, forcing a straight face to speak. "Question, and this one’s serious," they said, their eyes twinkling. Levi’s tired expression only seemed to amuse them more. "If you two… ever get down to business, would you consider a threesom—"

"DON’T HIT ME!" Hange quickly added as Levi’s hand moved with lightning speed to smack the back of their head.

"Shut the fuck up. You’ll wake her up," Levi muttered, but Hange was already caressing the back of their head where Levi had smacked them. "And over my dead, cold body. You heard me?"

"Ugh," Hange groaned, rubbing the back of their head with their left hand. "You purebreds… are so territorial. You’re missing half the fun."

Levi remained with his arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "And you’ll be missing your only remaining eye if you ever bring that shit into my room again."

When she woke up again, the clock on the nightstand read 11 am.

(I'm sorry if this chapter was shitty, I'd been so stressed with work lately but I didn't want to let you all down another week in a row T-T)

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out.

Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @l3visthighs @hannieslovebot @flxrartsstuff @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @katharinasdiaryy @ackermanswifee @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @searriously @blackdxggr @storiesofsung @abiatackerman @braunsbabe @moonchild-angel @galactict3a @lemonsupernova @hyuckwon-my-husbands @heyitsd1yaa @sydneyyuu @love-for-faeries-go-burrrr @mandaax @sugacor3 @r0ckst4rjk @vegetasgirl2799 @catiwinky @pinksaiyans @sparklykeylime Wanna join my tag list? Here!

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doliacuddles · 7 days ago

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THE OBJECT OF HIS OBSESSION.

𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

❝You consume me in a way that I no longer know if it’s I who seeks you, or if it’s you who drags me toward you, like an uncontrollable tide.❞

The wall clock marked the exact time, and Alastor stood before the large mirror in his dressing room, admiring himself with a smile only he understood. The reflections in his eyes were sharp and bright, as though the glass before him wasn't the only thing reflecting perfection, but his very vision—the one he had built with such effort, such sacrifice.

The black suit clung to his figure, more than just a piece of clothing. It was a statement. A uniform of greatness, meticulously crafted, with every fold, every seam designed to capture the attention of those who would be present at the ceremony. He was flawless, so elegant, so polished, yet he still felt the urge to make sure not a single detail was out of place. After all, today, more than ever, his image would be his greatest asset.

With delicate yet firm fingers, he ran his hand through his hair, combing it with almost obsessive precision. The bright red strands, perfectly framing his face, reflected the idea of absolute control he had cultivated throughout his life. As he did, his mind inevitably returned to the reason he stood there, adjusting his appearance for the occasion.

You.

He didn’t love you, of course not. That word didn’t exist in his vocabulary. Love was a weakness he would never allow to seep into his soul. No, what he felt for you was not love. It was... possession. Desire. A visceral need to have you completely under his control. Not just your body, but your soul, your mind, everything that you were.

Because in this world, no one could be as perfect as he was. And you... you would be his masterpiece. You would be his image. His possession.

As he adjusted his tie with calculated skill, a smile curved his lips, empty yet loaded with unyielding coldness. The thought of the ceremony thrilled him. All eyes would be on him, admiring the perfection he represented, but what excited him most was the image of you—dressed for him, walking toward him, becoming the final piece in his plan. A plan he had been building for years, with patience and precision.

"Today, you will be mine," he thought, a nearly arrogant expression on his face. "Everything you are, everything you have, will be mine. No one else will reach you, no one else will touch you. It doesn’t matter what you say or do, because I will have you under my control, completely. You won’t be free. You will be perfect for me."

With one last look in the mirror, he walked away, ensuring every step he took would bring him to that altar, to that pivotal moment. The hall was already filled, the murmurs of the guests sounding like a distant hum, as if it were all part of a grand performance. But to him, it was all real. Everything was exact, precise.

The only thing that mattered was you, the object of his obsession. Had you realized it yet? Probably not. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that no one else would. No one could understand the magnitude of what was about to happen.

Alastor made his way to the altar, the echoes of his footsteps reverberating in the empty church, his gaze fixed on the aisle. He imagined the moment when he would see you, walking toward him, so beautiful, so completely his. But that beauty was nothing more than an extension of himself, another tool in his plan.

And as he waited, anxiety grew within him, not for the ceremony nor for the expectations of others, but for that need to see you surrendered, completely his. The altar was not just a place of union. It was a declaration, his way of sealing his dominion over you.

You would be his. In such an absolute, devastating way that not even death could separate them. The image of you, dressed for him, simply his, made the cold calm in his chest intensify. And when the moment came, no one would be able to do anything, because in the end, everything that was happening, everything he had planned, was for this moment. The perfect day.

The look in his eyes reflected the emptiness behind the perfection that everyone saw. But he had already won. And you, dear, would be the final piece in his game.

Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor

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cal-flakes · 1 year ago

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okay but imagine reader posting new swimsuit on her story but rafe makes her take it down 🤑🤑

╰┈➤ “delete it”

warnings: mean!rafe, toxic relationship, swearing.

summary: y/n knows exactly how to get rafe’s attention.

she sighed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone as she lay on her stomach, legs crossed behind her. it had been an hour, and she hasn’t heard from him yet, and that wasn’t like him, what was he doing?

swiping out of instagram, she checked her messages once again. delivered, the small text said below her last message. so he’s definitely got it, but he hasn’t opened it. petty, she thought.

rolling her eyes, she diverted her attention to the numerous shopping bags scattered around her bedroom floor, quickly jumping up with an idea. if he’s too stubborn to reply, this’ll surely get his attention.

pushing yesterdays argument with rafe out of her mind, she grabbed the smallest shopping bag, reaching in to retrieve one of the many bikini sets she’d purchased earlier that day.

she unraveled the white strings delicately, laying it out in her bed with a smirk on her face. oh, how he’ll hate this.

she hummed along to the quiet music sounding around her room as she tied the bikini strap around her neck, huffing as she positioned herself awkwardly to do so.

once all the strings were tied and adjusted to compliment her curves perfectly, she played around with the light dimmer before grabbing her phone.

opening instagram, her thumb pressed down on add to story, and situated herself seductively in front of the large expensive mirror. snapping a quick photo, and adjusting the contrast, she sighed in delete as she typed in a basic caption and posted it to her story. now we wait, she thought.

thirty minutes- or so, passed while she lounged around her room, having replaced the bikini with a comfortable pair of shorts, and one of his oversized graphic tee’s. by this time, she’d forgotten all about the post, focusing on her skincare routine as she pinned her hair back in preparation.

a quite shriek escaped her lips as the first hard bang landed on the door of her apartment, her frame jolting in fright.

gathering herself, she smirked slightly as she tip-toed to the door, listening for the usual torrent of abuse to fall from his mouth.

“open the fucking door y/n, i know you’re home!” his stern voice called, full of anger. she rested her back against the wall near the door, sure to keep her footsteps quiet. she knew what she was doing, and she knew it was wrong, but she missed him- and if this was her only way to see him, then so be it.

“i swear to god y/n i’ll put this fucking door through if you don’t let me in, now!” he yelled again, followed by three more loud raps, which echoed through her small home.

giving in, she pushed back off the wall, deciding she’d had her fun. “okay-okay! chill the fuck out dude!” she shouted, hastily padding over to the door and unlocking it.

she smiled sweetly at him as he stalked through the doorway, almost squaring up. “dude?- did you just call me dude?” he seethed, nostrils flaring as he towered above her.

“yeah? what’s the big deal?” she chuckled, nonchalant closing the door behind him before making her way past, launching herself onto the couch.

following suit, his heavy footsteps taunted hee as he rounded the couch, stopping between her legs to look down on her. “delete it” he spat, fists balled up either side of him. “delete what?” she cooed, twirling her hair as she looked up at him through her lashes. “you know what y/n, don’t play fucking dumb, it won’t work this time” he snapped.

“ugh, you’re no fun” she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she picked up her phone to unlock it. “no fun? you think being a little whore for the world to see is fun?”

gasping, she feigned offence as she held a hand up to her chest, mouth agape. “woah- that was rude, very uncalled for rafe..” she teased, smirking as she felt his eyes watching her while her fingers tapped away at the screen.

“see? all gone? you happy?” she laughed, tossing her phone back to its original spot on the couch. “oh, so you just do this shit to piss me off huh?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“well- see, i missed you, and you were being all stubborn and rafe-like because of yesterday, so what else was i supposed to do..” she muttered, delicately taking ahold of his hands to pull him onto the couch.

deflating, he allowed himself to fall into the spot next to her, his hands moving to her waist instinctively as she straddled him. “you drive me fucking insane y/n, i don’t even want to know what other stupid shit goes on in that little head of yours..” he groaned, throwing his head back as she cuddled into him.

“yeah, but you love me” she stated confidently, pressing soft kisses to his exposed neck. “mhm..” he hummed, pushing some stray hairs behind her ear.

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ostaramoon · 12 days ago

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༊*·˚ BABYDOLL ༊*·˚ — bad idea right?

༊ — invasions of privacy come with being america’s shiny new star, but when a stalker breaks into your home, it’s a line crossed. after a string of failed bodyguards, your management hires dean winchester, he doesn’t flinch at your playful, bratty charm and if pushing his buttons gets him to lean in close and lay down the rules? hell, you’re certainly not complaining. PART ONE, your phone buzzes, a text from a friend letting you know it's open mic night at TABOO, one of those trendy underground clubs. and a total hotspot for good music. you're already slipping into a cute little outfit by the time dean realizes you're not staying in like he told you to. cw, scuffle with minor descriptions of violence, strong language, playful banter, protective dean 2.5k

masterlist — next

NEW YORK CITY 10:45PM

avril lavigne blares through the small pink speaker perched on the cluttered bathroom counter, barely noticeable amongst the vibrant mess of your makeup bag having spilled over the surface.

you hum along to the tune, leather clad hips swaying along, with your favorite shimmery lip gloss in hand. leaning over the countertop, you carefully trace your lips with a liner before adding the gloss. the finishing touches to your entire ensemble of glittery makeup, perfectly done-up hair and a bold little leather outfit.

you can’t even remember the last time you went out like this. it has been months of recording, performing, press tours, while also trying to evade the ever looming presence of whatever freak has become obsessed with all things you.

you tried not to worry too much, especially not when your career was finally sky rocketing. years of hard work, never letting yourself sleep if something wasn’t crafted to perfection, draining yourself of all energy just to make a crowd scream—is all finally paying off.

after months of cycling through bodyguards, management finally threw you one that might actually stick. you wouldn’t have been so picky if it weren’t for the fact that management insisted that the new guy becomes your other half. a room for him in your house, by your side the moment you step foot out the front door, keeping him as close as possible until the whole stalker-wanting-you-in-his-basement thing was handled.

the other guys were annoying, awkward, or just a bad fit. but when your assistant mentioned someone who once saved her life—a guy she knew was looking for a new career—they brought in dean winchester. your first thought when you saw him: gorgeous. your second thought when you heard his gruff, no-nonsense voice lay out his rules: fun.

maybe you missed mind reader on his resume, or the loud music piqued his interest, nevertheless dean’s large frame comes into your view through the mirror. sporting a scowl that shouts both confusion and annoyance, something you‘ve come to learn is just a typical dean expression, he crosses those big arms and leans against the door frame.

his eyes stay trained on your figure as your lips pop, working the lipgloss around. he knows you can see him, but you’re ignoring him anyways. something about this man made it so fun to mess with him. he’s professional, but not an emotionless robot. he certainly isn’t a ‘yes man’ by any means, rarely actually listening to your demands if he feels as though they impose on his rules. he’s so confident in his abilities—albeit a bit self righteous—that it’s fucking hot.

but fucking the guy who’s signed a contract to protect you, with his life, would be a bad idea…right?

dean pushes himself from the wall, striding over to power down the blaring speaker.. you give a quick glance as he settles against the counter, arms crossed again as he watches you busy your hands with adjusting your hair in the mirror. you catch his eye roll, “what are you doing?” he grumbles.

you pause, mimicking his crossed arms and stepping in front of him. he’s definitely going hate this, but you’ll be damned if you miss out on a night like tonight.

“i’m going out.” you cock a brow.

dean’s eyes squint, “out where?”

you can’t help but roll your eyes as you sigh, “just a little club,” you smile, batting your eyes up at him, “don’t worry, you can come too.”

his scowl turns to amused surprise as his eyebrows quip, laughing through his nose, “i go where you go. kinda my whole gig, babydoll, remember?”

there it is again, that pet name. he wasted no time in exchanging your real name for it, as if he wanted to be the only one to call you something else, something other than what the world knew you by. a name that wasn’t plastered on billboards across the states, becoming a household name, a trending twitter hashtag. to him, you were his babydoll. a pretty little thing in need of protection.

at first, you hated it. convinced he was trying to minimize you. but in the two weeks you’ve gotten to know him, it’s become a comfort to not have to always be the dazzling star associated with your name.

you give him a glossy pink grin, “oh, dean,” you sigh dramatically, “i’d never forget you.”

with that you turn on your heel, leaving him in the bathroom.. heels tapping against the hardwood as you saunter towards the front door.

“uh, huh,” he hums, swiftly following just a few paces behind you, “this is a bad idea, y’know, with everything–”

“live a little,” you throw over your shoulder, cutting him off before he can scold any further, “c’mon killjoy, the cars waiting.”

༊*·˚

taboo was one of those places where the cost of entry was either notoriety or looking like you should have notoriety.

it’s a small club, a long bar zig zags across the back wall, illuminated in a soft orange glow. a few tables with chairs are scattered about, too, but the focus of the venue is the small stage. just enough space for a full band, decorated with leafy green vines and old persian rugs overlapping one another. bodies were already crowding the front, as a band played some new age indie track. it was packed tonight, and between the humming of the bass and drunken cheers, you don’t hear dean until he’s grabbing your wrist, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“keep your ass close, too many people in here for you to start wanderin’ off on me.” he pulls back, his expression matching the heat of his words: he’s not playing around.

hah.

“keep up ‘n you won’t lose me!” you shout over the music, a sly smile across your lips.

dean twitches in agitation, opening his mouth to fire back at you when a booming voice calls your name from a few feet away. both of you snap your heads towards the sound, searching the crowded room. without looking, dean grabs your arm and pulls you closer, your shoulder bumping into his chest as his eyes continue sweeping the space, his firm grip locked around your forearm.

“so rough,” you mutter, wiggling out of his hold as an all too familiar face finds his way to you. if this city was having a contest for most douchey nepo baby in manhattan, your ex was certainly a top contender. his fox-like eyes gleam with sly amusement as he flashes a grin that makes your stomach churn.

“there she is, america’s little sweetheart!” he shouts, his nasally voice cutting through the noise. his eyes flick up to dean, and the height difference is noticeable, making the knot of agitation in your stomach ease up.

“good to see you too, foster—” you begin before he’s cutting you off with a smirk.

“who’s the big guy?” he nods to dean, brows knotting up as his face finds that snub look he was never good at hiding.

“new bodyguard, dean winchester,” you answer, pausing to look at dean, who doesn’t even acknowledge foster’s presence. his sharp eyes are still scanning the room, utterly indifferent. the corner of your mouth twitches as you suppress a smile—foster hates being ignored, almost as much as he hated sharing attention when you were dating.

foster shifts uncomfortably, hiding it poorly as he sips from a short glass. “c’mon,” he says, forcing a grin as slimy as ever. “let me get you a drink.” his fingers slide toward the hem of your top, tugging lightly to pull you closer. bad idea.

dean reacts before either of you can register it. his hand clamps down on foster’s wrist, squeezing until the smug grin twists into a grimace. still unsatisfied, dean yanks foster’s arm upward, curling it back.

“hands. off,” Dean growls, his tone low and menacing. with a shove, he sends foster stumbling backward.

“dude, you’re a fucking psycho!” foster yelps, rubbing his wrist, “keep your dog on a leash, or i’ll call my father!” he shouts before cowering away, slinking back into the crowd.

dean doesn’t even spare him a second glance, his gaze locked onto you as he looks you over, concern lacing his eyes, “you good?”

“yeah,” you manage to say, though the weight of his piercing stare makes your stomach flip.

“who’s the douche?” he grumbles, the disgust evident in the way his nose curls.

“my ex,” you sigh, brushing a strand of hair from your face in a futile attempt to cool your nerves, “stuck up rich kid, has never been told no kinda guy.”

dean’s jaw tightens, jade green eyes sweeping over you like he’s still assessing for damage, but all he can see is the lingering discomfort from having to interact with foster again, “sounds like a fuckin’ loser.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out as you sheepishly nod in agreeance, “yeah, he is a fucking loser.”

your laugh brings out that smile dean seldom shows off when he’s on the job. his big, charming grin graces you as he winks.

thankfully, the music comes to a stop as you feel a blush creeping onto your skin. the band exits the stage with a symphony of clapping, whistling and cheering as a man in a checkered scarf and a fedora replaces them on stage.

“alright, alright, everybody give it up for tonic water!” he cheers into the mic, another wave of noise rippling through the crowd as you sneak a glance at dean. his face is twisted in that agitated confusion again, he doesn't seem like the indie underground music type, and you make a mental note to figure out what music he does listen to. metal, classic rock, hell maybe even hair rock—

your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of your name being shouted into the mic. the crowd shares a gasp, every head on a swivel now as they all are searching for you.

“oh, c’mon, girl! we know you’re here!” the man coos, and you spot a certain loser standing at the edge of the stage. foster tipped them off, probably using his velvet tongue to convince them you’d absolutely love this.

open mics were once your favorite. you’d slip through bars all weekend just to get a chance at feeling the adrenaline of being on a stage. as your following grew, it became harder to just pop up somewhere without the crowd getting out of hand. but taboo prides themselves on keeping a high profile client base, the kind that might actually be fine to get in front of. so long as no one posts your location to twitter, of course.

a few of the people around you are already pointing, excitement etched into their drunken smiles. dean’s arms have found your waist, keeping you firmly in place.

but this, feels like a challenge, and god do you love a good challenge.

prying yourself from dean, the crowd starts to part, an opening from you to the stage. you lean on your tip toes, tucking into dean’s ear, “i’ll be fine, just stay by the stage.”

pulling back, you’re met with a very unimpressed glare. but you’re already snaking away before he can yank you back, a chaos of whistling and cheering erupting again as you make your way to the stage.

you turn on the charm, hips swaying as you flash a bright smile to the crowd. the host claps as you climb the steps to join him on stage.

there are already musicians at each instrument, you huddle together and decide to sing a cover, something they all know how to play.

“ready?” fedora guy asks, beaming with excitement.

“hell yeah,” you nod, taking the mic from his hands.

you turn, and the crowd looks much larger from this perspective. there's already a dozen little lights glowing, and your stomach flips as you hope they at least post their videos after you’ve left the club. walking out into an uncontrolled crowd of screaming fans would probably send dean into overdrive and you wouldn’t hear the end of his rantings about being impulsive and careless.

“hey y’all,” you giggle into the mic, feeling the heat of adrenaline burn through your entire body, “we’re gonna play somethin’ i think everyone will like. a throwback to the classics, so join in if you know the words, alright?”

the band comes in steady, the intro to the chain, vibrating against the club walls. you nod to the count, falling into the opening verse.

the crowd echos your sounds, clapping and feet stomping to the beat heightening the symphony. bliss washes over, finding sweet comfort in the pulsing music and vibrant crowd. you take control of the small space of the stage, dancing and head banging along as you sing. you’ve already had a taste of packed stadiums, sold out venues five times larger than taboo. but you’ve missed the sultry intimacy of a smaller crowd. how it feels to be so connected to a sea of people that aren’t here just for you. it’s exhilarating, and you feel dizzy from it’s intensity.

as the song’s buzz dies out in the outro, a chant for more rumbles out of the crowd. you find dean, arms crossed as he watches from the side. a ghost of a smile is on his lips, and you take that inch for a mile.

nodding to the band, they bring the tempo back up, “i think we can go for one more, right?” you tease, winking at the crowd as the whistles and cheering challenge the volume of the music.

the bassist plucks into you’re so vain, the intro itself pulling more excitement from the audience. you smile down at them, swaying to the sounds as you dive back into song. the chorus becomes a shared chant, the entire room coming alive with the song. you belt out the song, moving along with the dramatics of the rhythm, playing into the crowd.

your eyes keep finding dean’s, as he keeps his focus on you. his amusement is evident, but he isn’t watching with the same glimmer of starstruck as everyone else. in his mind you’re a high-spirited time bomb drenched in glitter that he’s been tasked to keep from getting herself into danger. but you can’t help but wonder just how much of your exuberance he actually enjoys.

the song rolls to a finish, and you’re bowing to the crowd. high on the adrenaline, you’re giggling through your ‘thank you’s as you pass the mic back to the host and find your way back to dean.

beaming up at him, you’re practically vibrating as he looks down at you with a smirk, “you looked good up there,” he clears his throat, “now let’s get your pretty ass home before i have to break some more wrists.”

you roll your eyes, biting your lip to fight back a smile.

“alright, princess?” he quips, leaning closer with an eyebrow quirked.

“alright, fine,” you groan, waving off his attitude, “take me home, cowboy.” you bring up a pointer finger, brows furrowing in mock seriousness, “but the night is young! you’re staying up to watch chick flicks with me and i don’t wanna hear shit about it.”

i honestly just needed to get the ball rolling on this story, sooo kinda short read with this one but lmk what you think :,)

tags from ppl who commented on the preview !! @titsout4nicholas @a1ecmcdowell @kpopslur @ultravi0lence14 @globetrotter28 @what-has-life-come-to

#babydoll dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #supernatural #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester au #dean winchester fanfiction

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musclefantasytf · 1 year ago

Text

mysterious package

Luke had always been a scrawny, bookish guy. He spent most of his time studying and working on his computer, rarely ever leaving his house except for school and occasional trips to the library. So when he received a mysterious package with his name on it, he was both confused and intrigued. He had no idea who could have sent him something, but he felt a thrill of excitement as he tore open the package.

Inside was a jockstrap with a note attached that simply said, 'Enjoy the trip.' Luke furrowed his brow in confusion. What trip? He wasn't going on any trips anytime soon. And what did this jockstrap have to do with it? He shrugged and tossed the box onto his bed, planning to deal with it later. But as he continued working on his computer, he couldn't help but be drawn to the mysterious item. With a shrug, he grabbed it from his bed and headed to his bathroom to see what it looked like on him.

As he pulled on the jockstrap, he couldn't help but notice how it hugged his body perfectly, enhancing his slim frame and making him feel surprisingly confident. He checked himself out in the mirror, posing seriously as if he had large muscles. He couldn't help but feel a little silly, but also a little envious of the image staring back at him.

But just as he was about to take off the jockstrap and toss it back onto his bed, he felt a sudden pressure building inside his body. He looked down in surprise as he watched his dick grow in size and thickness. Not only that, but his balls were expanding as well, almost the size of oranges. He couldn't believe his eyes as his body began to change and grow in front of the mirror.

His muscles began to bulge and swell, slowly at first but then picking up pace. He watched in awe as a sexy layer of hair began to appear on his chest, making a happy trail that led down towards his now impressive package. He couldn't believe what was happening, but he couldn't deny the surge of pleasure and power he felt coursing through his body.

As his balls continued to grow, releasing more and more testosterone, Luke couldn't resist the urge to run his hands all over his new, manly body. He felt like a new person, full of raw masculinity and vigor. He couldn't control his urges as he grabbed his thick dick and began to stroke himself, feeling like he was on top of the world.

And just like that, he exploded with a force he had never experienced before. Thick ropes of cum covered his body and splattered across the bathroom walls and floor. He couldn't help but let out a deep, primal roar as he reveled in his newfound masculinity and sexual prowess.

As he caught his breath and looked around the now messy bathroom, Luke couldn't believe what had just happened. But he knew one thing for sure, he was no longer the scrawny, bookish guy he used to be. He was now a confident, strong man with a wild side he couldn't wait to explore. And he had a feeling this mysterious jockstrap it was the trip that the note said.

#gettinghairy #muscle transformation #muscle growth tf #male transformation #transformation

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the-slasher-files · 2 years ago

Note

I got this idea in my brain.

König getting some pussy so good he forgets to pull out. Neither party is complaining.

[CALL OF DUTY]

YOUR BEAST

KÖNIG

Oh oh oh ooooh my God I love this!! Warnings include: accidental breeding, knifeplay, mirror sex, stomach bulge, size kink, daddy kink and of course dirty talk... Hope you enjoy🔪💕

MASTERLIST

Stretched. Marked. Burning. A deep ache, almost painful, fluttered from your core reaching through your throat and bubbling up in the sound of incoherent words and wanton cries. He pushed you further into the depths of a vicious sea and allowing you to bare witness to the storm tearing through his eyes still smeared in black paint.

"K— Kön—" His name, sweet and brutal was caught in your throat with another deep thrust.

"Tell me, baby. Tell your King" You could hear the cocky rumble behind the words, sure that his mouth was curled in a smirk if only you could see. It wasn't the black hood with bleached tears that hid his face, it was the fact that König's massive hand pushed the back of your head down, forcing your face into the mattress.

Oxygen waned within your seering lungs, body covered in sweat, spit and cum. Yours and his. Both of you had lost track of what round you were on, but your brain had melted out your mouth long ago, perhaps when he placed you on the kitchen counter and finger fucked your cunt until there was a large puddle of your mess on the tile below. Or maybe it was when König first walked through the front door and pinned you against the wall, having just come off a 2 month long mission gone wrong and he was desperate for you. A caged animal with claws dripping blood and devastation running through his veins with each pump of a war-torn heart.

A garble of whimpering words tried to escape your pretty mouth only to fall flat with a dumb tongue but he heard one word "C—Can't"

König's crushing hand disappeared for a moment with a dark growl rumbling behind his ribcage allowing you to sputter and gasp from the newly found air. However, it wasn't long before his mammoth hand appeared again except the long fingers tangled with your locks, gripping strongly and pulling you back with ease. Your body now flat against his front.

"Yknow, I've never liked that word... can't," He rasped out with rough lips grazing along your naked shoulder. "...Now, Maus,"

Humming in response to the nickname for you, eyes half-lidded and foggy with a cockdrunk haze, gazed up behind you with a whimper. Konig's thick and long cock held still against your cervix, relentless and unmoving, there was no ability to wiggle within the soldier's iron grip.

"We both know you can," He sneered with mischief and wicked intentions flashing like lightning behind the intense blue eyes.

Suddenly you felt it. Cold and sharp laying flat on the tender muscles of your neck, daring your pulse to remain steady. A gasp left your kiss-bruised lips and eyes went wide in shock, any haze gone from them as you stiffened on Konig's massive frame and he felt in, a quiet groan sounded in his throat feeling your spongy walls close in around him.

"shhh Maus, do you trust me?" The beast was gently pushed aside for a moment to check in before you nodded wordlessly, "Good girl"

Body still stiff, Konig's soft praise and protectiveness calmed your overstimulated nerves. You were and always will be safe and loved by your king. He reassured you every day, even if he was on the other side of the planet.

"I want you to see something, sweet girl" His voice went dark, dripping with a heavy accent brought your thoughts to a halt, "Just watch how fucking good you take me"

Konig hissed, twisting the hand in your hair to turn your head forward to see the bedroom floor-length mirror capturing an absolutely sinful scene. The 6 foot 10 Austrian soldier's hulking body, skin tanned and scarred, muscles tense, visibly controlling his strength not to break your little body before him. He was still dressed in his beige cargo pants now dark in parts with the stains of your countless releases, they were folded down making the V on Konig's torso even more prominent, drawing your eyes to where your dripping cunt was being spilt open around him. Soft open kisses were placed from your left shoulder to your right making your eyes flutter up. Going across the thick, veiny arm hugging your ribcage like a deadly anaconda, reaching up to hold the large german military blade to your throat, his hand overwhelmingly the knife handle making it look like a toy but the cold bite against your pulse made you know it was real.

"Konig" Your voice was weak, daring to crack at the sight before you.

Intense blue eyes stared back hungrily as he raised to the full height on padded knees from behind you. Releasing your hair to drag down where you two were connected and spread your pussy open as if his cock didn't do that enough before he rumbled with a sharp thrust inside you, "Look at this tiny little cunt begging for me"

A feverish heat spread to your head as the man you knew as Konig was slowly, methodically turning into a beast, something primal and ancient clawing out desperately. The air had been stolen from you once again as Konig fell into a sharp, deep pace, angling his hips in just the right position to make you see stars.

"Konig, Konig, Kon-" You chanted, almost as if it was a ritual to an old god.

He couldn't control it any longer. The way your breasts bounced with each splitting thrust, the way your drooling pussy leaked around him and dripped on the bed, how your body looked like a tiny toy against his, holding you with ease as your eyes rolled back within your skull even though Konig watched your stomach bulge taking every thick inch of him. Dark sentences in German could be found between animalistic grunts and moans, but they didn't meet your ears beyond the lustful haze, drunk on everything that was Konig.

"C-close, D-Daddy, sooo c-close" A cry tore through your throat, body about to give out still looking at the reflection as much as you could focus.

"Give it to me... Now" He growled deep, removing the blade from your neck and pushing you forward. Massive hands pushing, grasping and bruising your hips as he lost himself, fucking your body like a fleshlight through your final gushing orgasm. "FFFFUCK"

The world went black between you both.... Breath heavy.... Body tingling.

"Fuck," He pants, "Fuck"

The beast lingers in the form of a man, hunched over his lifeless feast with damp huffs.

"M'sorry, baby... sorry, fuck" Konig knows he lost his head, it happens sometimes in the field turning into that aggressive hound breaking bones with the hands that held you. "verdammt"

Slowly he rolled to the side, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your body close as you came back to life. First, the feeling of achy muscles and blissful tingles across your skin made your eyes flutter open half-lidded, reaching out to draw Konig even closer if it were possible.

"Easy, sweet girl, easy" He coos, guilt growing within his core with thorns.

Shifting with a whimper, he was still inside you and the now soft blue eyes went wide, he had never done that before with you.

"...Need you, Konig" You meekly whispered, needing his warmth and comfort so much now with your thoroughly fucked out body.

"B-baby, okay, just-" Konig stumbled slightly over the words that wouldn't stop.

Stunned, he didn't know how to react. One side of his brain didn't want to pull out and the other side just wanted to make sure you were ok and make sure you knew what had just occurred. It was your body after all and your choice, never his even though Konig's pride and fansites overcame him.

A whine broke the train of thought that ran through his clouded mind, rolling back his hips and pulling out. Stick warmth spilled out of you involuntarily as your cunt quivered from the aftershocks and the Austrian groaned at the sight, wanting to just shove it all back in and fuck you again, but he held steady and turned your weak self towards him. Cuddling and ducking into his neck. The scent of gunpowder and his cedar aftershave stirred within your lungs like a mystical potion, always needing more of him.

Gazing under your lashes softly, you knew what happened, how could you not feel it.

A wicked smile curled on your lips as he delicately pushed the hair away from your face. His pierced brow raised as your small hand reached down to sheath himself inside you once more with a hot moan, staying there hopefully for hours now, "That's where you stay, big man"

Fuck, you were his everything

#lol the dom twist of it all to the end #my writing #HOPE YOU LIKE #könig #cod #call of duty #modern warfare #cod mwii #mwii #könig x reader #x you #x s/o #smut #fanfiction

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