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fluffy-kittenn · 2 years

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preying on you tonight

Pairing: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

Warnings: smut, dark themes, a/b/o themes, daddy!kink, noncon, dubcon, dark!Steve Rogers, bullying, Steve is really mean in this, jealousy, breeding kink, size difference, unbalanced power dynamic, humiliation, seriously Steve is super mean, and reader is really naive, minors do not interact!

Summary: Steve is the menacing alpha who makes your life at university a living hell every single day. He's cocky, brash and domineering, and you're the complete opposite - quiet, meek and reserved. Ridiculed by him day after day, you're convinced he hates you. But what happens when Steve finds out you have a boyfriend? Based on this ask and the discussion that followed it.

“Look at the little omega, already here bright and early at 9 in the fucking morning.” You flinch when you hear the booming voices floating over from the front of the lecture hall, the pack of loud, domineering alphas making their way in through the entrance. You busy yourself with rearranging your pens in colour order, acting like it’s the most interesting task in the world. You can hear the alphas walk past you, smirking and snickering, a few of them purposefully bumping against your shoulder while you try to avoid eye contact.

“Look how fucking eager she looks, the kiddie pencil case and all those notes. As if her dumb omega brain even understands any of this shit.” One of the alphas named Bucky laughs at his own quip, the rest of them follow suit and you try to hide the bristle of hurt you feel. It’s okay. They do this every single day. It’s nothing new. You can handle it. You’re here to learn. Just ignore them.

“She’s probably fucking the professor, that’s why she’s here so early every day. You know these omega sluts – all the same.” Without looking up, you know it’s Steve who’s spoken, his Brooklyn drawl deep, quiet, confident, but mocking. You can’t help but feel your heart sink deep down into the pits of your stomach – why did he have to be so mean?

The tall, blond alpha hangs back from his friends, who all congregate at their usual seats right at the back of the hall. Steve pauses where you’re sitting, however, and your nostrils are greeted with his now familiar, musky scent. You share this class with him every day, along with the other alphas, but Steve’s scent is the strongest and most noticeable to you. He smells woody like a hot summer day, fresh like soap, mixed with that distinctly musky smell that you can’t seem to associate now with anything other than him.

“Omega,” Steve articulates slowly, as if savouring the word on his tongue before spitting it out like venom. He doesn’t speak directly to you very often, but when he does, he always refers to you as omega. Never your name. Always just omega. As if effectively reducing you to just that. Your hands shake underneath the desk where you’ve got them tightly clasped over your lap, and you feel Steve prod your shoulder. “Look at me.”

You have to look up at him. You have to listen. It’s ingrained in you to listen. And of course, he knows this. From where you’re sitting, Steve looks so big looming over you, blonde hair dark and wet as if he’s just showered, grey t-shirt clinging tight against his muscular frame, the indents of his abs very visible through the material. God. You can’t help but stare. He’s got domineering alpha energy exuding from him, practically radiating out of his pores.

“Where’s my report, omega?” He asks you, looking down at you with those scrutinising blue eyes. The same blue eyes that have sparkled with cruel amusement as he’s made fun of you with his friends, or tripped you over, or threatened you. Really, it all depends on his mood. Today, he seems to be more on the docile side – maybe because it’s so early in the morning.

“Oh. I’ve got it. W-Wait.” You scramble to open your bookbag, rummaging through it before pulling out a neat binder and handing it over to him. “H-Here you go.”

He snatches it from you, flipping through it with his eyes narrowed before looking back down at you. “This better not have anything missing.”

“It doesn’t.” You promise him. You did, after all, spend all night in the library finishing his report for him. It’s due today and luckily you were ahead with your own work, having finished your own report last weekend. Steve, on the other hand, busy with football games, partying and other debauchery, had cornered you last lesson and essentially ordered you to do his report for him. And you can never understand why you said yes, except that you always have trouble saying no to anyone. Especially big, beefy alphas like Steve who know they have some sort of hold over you.

And a part of you knows you just want his approval. It’s absolutely pathetic and shameful, but it’s intrinsically woven into your DNA to crave the approval of the likes of him. And apart from that, it would be nice to have him stop treating you like the dirt at the bottom of his shoe. Or even just sparing you a sliver of a smile, a nod, a thank you, even.

The ‘thank you’ never makes it past his lips, though. Instead, he just walks away to join his friends – making sure to brush against you as he leaves. You shudder, gripping the desk in front of you for support. It’s crazy how nervous Steve makes you. Well, everyone makes you nervous. But especially Steve. You risk a glance back at him, peaking over your shoulder in time to see him bring the binder you just gave him up to his nose, closing his eyes for a second before throwing it on his desk

Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly look away before any of them catch you looking back at them. There’d be hell to pay and a myriad of jokes and insults thrown your way – not that they don’t do that anyways.

Being the only omega in a majority-alpha World Politics class is difficult, to say the least. It’s not a great feeling being singled out and scrutinised every single day – especially sitting alone in the front row like you do, with no friends in the class to distract you from the mocking jeers. You can practically feel Steve’s and his friends’ eyes on the back of your head, always laughing, always making fun of you about something or the other:

“She’s here on a scholarship. A fuckin’ charity case – I wonder what kind of shithole they picked her up from.”

“Who does she think she is, taking this class? As if an omega has any business in politics.”

“She’s probably dumb as bricks; she only gets good grades because she’s probably fucking every professor in this place.”

And you always try and rise above it. Remind yourself to just think of their bullying as white noise. You also find it funny how all of them – with Steve being the ringleader – keep insisting you’re too dumb to take this class, yet he still makes you do his assignments for him. It’s all a powerplay to him, you think sadly. To all of them. And you’re the dumbass who can never say no.

“No fucking way. All ten pages?” You hear Bucky gape at Steve as the blond takes his seat with his friends in the back of the lecture hall. “Bro. You’ve got her on a fuckin’ leash.”

“You gonna give her something in return for doing your work, Stevie?” Sam teases, and you feel your cheeks turning hot, thanking your lucky stars they can’t see your face.

You can hear Steve smirk as he settles down on his seat, “Please. She wishes. I wouldn’t go near that trashy omega slut even if she was the last piece of ass left on campus.”

You duck your head lower, hunching over your notebook to hide the tears welling up in your eyes. Salty droplets fall down onto the paper, smudging the pink ink and making it run down the page as if it were bleeding. You feel like you’re bleeding – you just can’t seem to understand why Steve is so awful, and why the hurt caused by his insults seems to be so amplified.

Why can’t he just like me? You allow yourself to think, letting the self-pity consume you for 1, 2, 3 seconds before shaking it off. Like? Steve made it abundantly clear he wouldn’t even look at the likes you. And it’s a notion that’s made crystal clear after the class ends, and you’re leaving the building.

Steve’s already there, with his girlfriend pressed up against a wall. It’s a crowded corridor and you’re in a hurry to leave after enduring a whole class of aggressive alphas making fun of you, but you can’t help but stare. His muscular frame, the way he’s kissing her, his hand underneath the skirt of her cheerleading uniform. You’re sure she’s a perfectly nice girl, but this unknown force inside you just wants to rip her hair out.

You’re about to scurry away when Steve’s eyes suddenly open, making direct contact with yours. How did he know you were looking? You bite your lip, seeing him smirk straight at you with his mouth still working against hers. He maintains the eye contact, continuing to kiss his girlfriend but his eyes are boring straight into yours. A soft squeak escapes your throat before you rip your gaze away, making a straight beeline towards the exit.

***

“I don’t understand. Isn’t there anyone else in the class who you could sit with?” Peter asks you, his head resting on your lap as you brush his brown waves off his forehead, “Maybe they wouldn’t pick on you so much if they saw you weren’t alone all the time.”

You swallow. Wow, the way he put it… Alone all the time. It really did make you sound like the biggest loser. “Everyone’s already in their own little friend groups, Peter. I can’t just go and sit with someone. Most of the people in that class are alphas anyways – they don’t approve of me being there.”

Peter sits up, sighing as he wraps an arm around your trembling shoulders. “For a university that only accepts the best and smartest this country has to offer, a lot of the people there sound like they have the most backward views.”

“Don’t forget the richest.” You add, “The best, smartest and richest this country has to offer. That’s why most of the students who go there are elitist alphas.” You shake your head sadly, “And that’s another reason why they hate me. I don’t come from wealth like them. I’m not like even the other omegas who’ve grown up with money. They look down on people like me. They’ve told me so much.”

You’re grateful for the soft kiss Peter presses onto your lips. This thing between you and him – it’s new. You’ve both been best friends since freshman year of high school, and it wasn’t until you went off to university and Peter began an internship at the local tech company that he realised that he wanted something more with you.

As a beta, Peter is safe, familiar, bursting with kindness and sympathy – literally just everything you’d been missing in your university experience so far. And it’s nice to sometimes leave campus, stay the night at Peter’s house and just relax with him, watch movies and talk things out. Forget all about Steve Rogers and his hurtful insults.

“I don’t know, sometimes I just… I just feel like it isn’t worth it.” You say, cuddling up closer to him. “I mean, I love my degree and I love learning, but… Is it really worth getting ridiculed day after day? Just for existing?” You feel your lower lip wobble, but you’re determined not to cry – not in front of Peter.

Your boyfriend holds you close to him and you inhale deeply. He smells like Axe cologne – seems like he’s doused himself in it. You can’t help but compare it to Steve’s musky, summery scent – the scent so strong and overwhelming that you sometimes feel like you can smell it in your dreams. You clear your throat, pushing any thoughts of Steve out of your head.

“Listen. You’re the bravest girl I know.” Peter says earnestly, snapping you out of your Steve-filled reverie. “I know you think you’re all shy and quiet, but really – you’re brave. You’ve got the guts to step into that class full of alphas day after day, not letting their bullshit affect you, not giving them a single hint of satisfaction. If that’s not brave, I don’t know what is.”

You can’t help but smile at his sweet words, wondering to yourself why all men couldn’t be like Peter Parker. Never mind that Peter has no idea about all the homework and reports Steve has made you do for him, nor the countless number of times he’s made you cry in class. And he certainly has no clue about your unexplainable, intrinsic need for Steve’s approval. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Next time they’re rude to you, just tell me. I could have a word with them.”

You grimace through your smile. Steve alone could eat the likes of Peter for breakfast. But Steve and his entire pack of alphas? Rest in peace, Peter.

***

“Hey, hey, hey!” You feel a harsh prod on your back. The lecture is in full swing, the professor’s monotonous voice droning on and on and on. You, however, can barely concentrate. Instead of joining the rest of their pack in their usual seats at the back of the room; Steve, Sam and Bucky have decided to sit in the row directly behind you – probably a sick new form of getting under your skin. To say you’re on edge is an understatement, to say the least.

“Hey!” Sam repeats for the fourth time, giving you an even harsher tap on the shoulder. He’s not even bothering to whisper, with more and more students turning around to see what all the noise is about. Warily, you look over your shoulder – locking eyes with the three smug looking alphas. All three of them recline relaxedly on their seats – their books not even on the table, let alone any notes.

“How come you’re always wearing this ugly, oversized shit?” Sam asks, a shit-eating grin on his face. Bucky looks equally as amused, staring at you unabashedly. And Steve… well, you don’t have the guts to look Steve in the eye so you have no idea what his expression’s like. Self-consciously, you adjust your dark green hoodie – one of about five you own.

“I don’t know. Look, please stop. I’m missing the lecture.” You beg.

“I’m missing the lecture!” Bucky mocks you in a high-pitched voice as you’re in the process of turning back around. Before you realise what’s happening, you feel his hand snake up under your hoodie, “What’re you hiding underneath all these clothes, huh? I bet you’ve got a killer body, omega. Why can’t we have a look?” You can feel his rough touch on your waist, hand roaming higher as the panic begins to rise within you.

“Don’t touch her!” Steve growls so loud that students from five rows away turn to stare. The hostility in his tone is so clear and jarring that Bucky drops his hand, and both him and Sam give Steve a peculiar look. Even you look surprised by the sudden outburst, forgetting to straighten down the material of your hoodie as you look back at the blonde.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, “Don’t touch her,” he repeats smoothly, words weighted as if he’s quickly thought through them; “You don’t know where she’s been, who she’s fucked. She’s probably caught something, Buck. You never know with the likes of her.”

Of course. Bucky and Sam relax, and soon the trio is joking around once more. You turn back to your notes, trying to calm down your heart which currently feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest. You try and recall Peter’s words. You’re brave. You’re brave. You’re brave and you can do this.

The rest of the lecture goes by in a blur. You frown down at your notes – they’re not half as good or detailed as you’d like them to be. But they’re the best you could do considering Steve and co couldn’t stop talking and laughing behind you, not to mention making smart ass comments every once in a while.

“I think I might fuck her anyways.” Bucky tells Sam as they both leave their seats and make their way to the exit. Your heart lurches, unable to believe how they’re talking about you like you’re not right there. “I don’t know, man. I think she’s fucking hot. Maybe an STD would be worth it.”

They leave, but Steve hangs back. From your peripheral, you can see him standing next to your seat, his fists tight by his side – a bit too tight considering how white his knuckles look. You risk looking up at him, and dark, dangerous blue eyes stare back down at you. You swallow harshly, already knowing what this is about.

“Omega, you’re gonna have my essay done by next week, won’t you?” It’s not even posed as a question, but more like a nonchalant statement.

You bite your lip. At the end of the lecture, the professor had assigned another assignment. An essay no less than 4000 words long. Steve’s essay plus your own would mean you’d have only a little more than a week to write 8000 words. Not to mention, you’d promised Peter you’d spend more time with him too.

“I-I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t.” You stutter, busying yourself with gathering your stationary and stuffing it in your bag. That doesn’t last long, however, when he grabs your wrist suddenly, his grip so tight and touch so hot, you feel the heat literally radiating off of him and onto your own skin.

“What was that?” There’s menace and clear hint of a threat in his tone. And it’s insane how quickly you awash with guilt. You can practically feel the disappointment radiating off of him – this tiny voice in your head going: you disappointed him. You let him down. Playing over and over again, with another voice cajoling you softly: do it for him anyways. Submit to him. You know you want to do it for him.

“I can’t!” You repeat, forcing yourself to think of Peter. Swallowing, you sling your book-bag over your shoulder and stand up; your eyes being met by his chest, you’re completely dwarfed by his intimidating height. Maybe that’s a good thing, you think – this way you don’t have to look into his eyes. “I’m really sorry, Steve, but I can’t. I have to do my own essay, and I have work on the weekends. And I promised my boyfriend I’d hang out with him this week.”

A pause. And then:

“Say that again.” The edge in his tone is extremely tangible, and risking a peak up at him you see his jaw clenched almost as hard as his fists.

“I, uh, I have work on the weekends?”

“No. The other thing. The lie you just told.” Steve steps closer to you, and you feel so intimidated that you shrink back immediately. He’s looking down at you almost fiercely, “The lie about having a boyfriend.” He spits the word out of his mouth like he’s disgusted by the taste of it.

You almost raise an eyebrow, but think better of it. “Oh. I’m not lying, Steve. I do have a boyfriend.”

“You know you shouldn’t lie to me, right omega?” Now he’s doing it again, getting all close to you, speaking to you with that soft, domineering, alpha tone. You can literally smell his heady scent from every direction – there’s no avoiding it. It’s suddenly so strong, a summer’s day in full blossom: freshly mown grass and sunshine, the smoky smell of fireworks, that strong musk… It’s all tapping into your natural submissiveness, and you have to actually hold your breath for a few seconds before you answer.

“Y-Yes, alph– Steve. Yes, Steve. I’m not lying to you.”

He gives you the most peculiar and unreadable look, his gaze almost fiery as he looks down at you. His hand lifts up, and you can’t help but flinch. But he just runs it through his hair. You let out a breath you’ve been holding in, glancing around the lecture hall to see you’re the only two people left in there – save for the professor who’s packing his briefcase at the front of the room.

Almost as suddenly as he cornered you, Steve turns on his heel and stalks off, his sneakers thudding against the floor echoing across the empty lecture hall. You see him stop in front of the professor’s desk, the two of them beginning a conversation. Weird. You take that as your cue to leave. This entire class has been weird, from Steve’s outburst earlier to now this.

On your way to the exit, you hear the professor call out your name, heart sinking when he beckons you over to his desk where Steve also stands.

“Steve tells me he’s struggling with the work on this unit.” The professor begins. What? Steve? Struggling? Steve never did his work, but that didn’t mean he struggled with it. He just couldn’t be bothered to do it. You’ve seen him in class discussions – always heated and opinionated. You don’t necessarily agree with all his hot takes, but he certainly knows his stuff.

“– because of football practice and whatnot, he tells me he can’t seem to grasp the concepts for this essay.” The professor continues, and one glance at Steve shows him with an earnest look on his face, nodding along with him. “And I recommended he take help from you. You’re one of my star pupils – even if you don’t participate in class discussions, your written work is immaculate.”

You smile at the praise. But what’s he getting at?

“Maybe you could tutor Steve through our buddy-tutor system? Steve thought of the idea, actually, and I think it’s a good one. It’ll help Steve here with his essay, and it could also help you to… expand your horizons and talk to others in this class, maybe even contribute a little?”

You feel your cheeks glowing hotter – even the professor knows you’re a loner. You can see Steve grinning from ear to ear. Why exactly was he doing this? What does he have planned?

“I – uh – I don’t know, professor.” You mumble. “I’m really busy this week…”

“Ah. That’s too bad. But I do hope you reconsider, because I think this could be good for both of you. Plus, the tutoring would look good on your CV. I could put in a great recommendation too.” The professor says.

“And we all know how hard it is for omegas to get good jobs in this current market.” Steve chimes in, looking smug as ever with his muscular arms folded over his chest, surveying you closely. “If I were you, I’d take the deal.” He smirks, but he’s behind the professor so only you see it.

And then suddenly, you get another strong whiff of his scent. Like a gentle but firm summer breeze, it overtakes you, overwhelms your senses. It’s so irresistible, you want to scream. It makes you want to forget all about any essays, any work, even Peter. It seems to clear everything from your mind, everything except this intrinsic, instinctive need to submit. To him.

“Okay.” You barely manage to get the word out, “I’ll do it.”

***

Unknown number: I’ll come over tonight after practice.

You squint at your screen, taking a good few seconds to realise who it is that’s texting you. It’s 11 in the morning, the very next day after you’d agreed to help Steve out with his essay. It still amazes you how his boyish charm had the professor so fooled. Steve did not need any help. He was probably going to just dump his essay on you and make youdo it – while he went out to party or whatever else it is that he did.

You quickly type out a text back.

How did you get my number?

You wait. No answer. Sighing, you text him again. Somehow, it’s much easier talking to him over a phone screen. There’s no distracting scent or formidable aura or intimidating stature to deal with.

I can’t do today. I promised my boyfriend I’d hang out with him. How about tomorrow after the lecture?

Your phone pings with Steve’s response almost immediately.

Steve: No. Today. Cancel your plans.

You swallow. Even in text form, his commands have a hold on you. You feel the strong need to text Peter immediately, tell him you’re sorry, tell him you’ll go on that picnic with him tomorrow instead of today. But after a deep breath and a shake of your head, it’s Steve who you text:

I’m really sorry, Steve. It’s too late for me to cancel my plans with him. Please understand.

You add the “Please understand” part last second, biting your lip because every cell in your body seems to be revolting against you, making you feel guilty for saying no to him. A second later, you feel your phone vibrate, and with horror you see Steve’s name flash up on your screen. Why is he calling you?

“H-Hello?”

“You’re brave over text, omega. Trying to change our plans when you already agreed to do this tutoring thing.” Steve sounds cocky as ever, and considering the jeering and yelling going on in the background, he’s either at football practice or a frat house.

“W-We never agreed on a set date, Steve! And how… how’d you get my number?”

“ROGERS, YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S HERE!” You hear someone yell in the background on Steve’s end. There’s a pause before the blond speaks, his voice now lower and more serious:

“Listen here, omega. I’m gonna be at your dorm this evening after practice. If I find out that you’re not there and you’ve wasted my time – I’ll make sure to make the rest of this year a living hell for you, you got it?”

You swallow harshly, heart beating fast at the threat in his tone.

“I said, you got it? Answer me, omega.”

“I-I got it, Steve.” You squeak, and you can practically hear his pleased smirk on the other end of the line, and it makes your heart do this little somersault thing. It’s your body’s way of letting you know that you’ve done the right thing by agreeing to him. By submitting to his will.

You sigh when he hangs up, staring at your phone screen for a few seconds as you think of what excuse you’ll give Peter when you cancel your plans with him today.

***

Looking out the window, you see the sun has long ago set. It’s dewy outside, a slight mist accenting the darkness of the night. You switch on the lamp that’s on your desk, surveying over everything you’ve set up. You’ve got all your notes, blank papers, stationary, your laptop – with tabs of important information and timelines already open. Everything’s ready for the impromptu tutoring session. The only missing thing being Steve himself.

A worrying thought flits through your mind – what if this is some kind of cruel joke? What if Steve never shows up? A sick prank just to mess with you? Just to waste your time? Oh, you can just imagine Steve telling all his friends how he’d made you cancel all your plans for him. A horrific realisation then hits you: he never even asked where you live! He wasn’t coming!

You bite your lip, glancing at your phone. Maybe you could call Peter and go hang out with him after all? He was so sweet; he’d taken your cancellation very well. Although your excuse had been that you were tired, not that Steve Rogers was coming over to your dorm room for help with his essay. If he was coming.

You’re just about to text Peter when a sharp, loud and incessant knock almost makes you drop your phone. Someone’s banging on your door impatiently like they’re about to break it off its hinges. You hurry across the room to open it.

And there he is, casually standing there and scrolling through his phone; an almost bored look on his face. Steve walks in nonchalantly, as if he owns the place. He looks freshly showered, the ends and tips of his hair still wet, pale skin slightly flushed. A thin white shirt covers his taut, muscular body, paired with grey sweats and sneakers. You’ve never really seen him look so casual, and the look suits him well.

“Hey.” You breathe softly, so softly you’re not sure he’s even heard you. He’s stopped dead in his tracks, his chest rising as he inhales deeply, eyes closing and long lashes fanning over his cheekbones. It’s only the sound of you shutting the door that snaps Steve out of whatever reverie he seems to be in, and the tall blond looks around slowly.

“Well, omega, this place is even more pitiful than I expected it to be.” And it’s true, he looks even bigger than usual, standing in the middle of your truly tiny room.

You shrug, “Well. Yeah. I guess it is. But it’s just me living here, so it’s alright.” You don’t want to admit that compared to your postcard sized room back home, your dorm room is a spacious luxury. Instead, you gesture towards your desk as he begins to walk around. “I’ve got everything laid out and ready. I was thinking we could start with planning your essay, going over all the basic points and –”

“This is cute.” Steve interrupts, and you whip around to see him standing next to your bed, your pink teddy bear – one of the embarrassingly many stuffed animals on your bed – in his hand. There’s an odd glint in his eye, one that’s different from the cruel sparkle you’re used to. “I wonder what you use all these stuffed animals for, huh?” He gives you a knowing smirk, and you can feel your ears burning.

“Please put that back down,” You mean to be more assertive, but it comes out as a squeaky request which Steve promptly ignores. He throws the pink teddy haphazardly on your bed, completely ruining the meticulous way you’ve set everything up, and picks up another, larger stuffed rabbit instead.

“And what about this one? I bet this one’s seen some fun times.” Steve’s got this devilish look on his face, and you feel yourself going redder and redder. He glances at you wickedly as he brings the stuffie up to his nose, “You use this one during your heat, omega?”

You jump to rip the stuffed rabbit out of his grasp just as he’s about to inhale, but he easily holds it out of your reach, laughing at your pathetic attempts to grab at it. From far away, it truly looks like a juvenile bullying scene straight out of a movie. You can’t believe this is your reality. Looking up at Steve again, you see the look of pure glee on his face – how he’s totally thriving off your embarrassment.

“I can smell you on it.” He says, the smirk still on his face but there’s something different in his eyes. It takes all your might to tear away from his gaze, and you swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat. What if he tears it? Destroys it in some way? With Steve, you never know.

“Please,” You whisper, your voice coming out small, “Please, Steve. Put it back. It’s got sentimental value, m-my boyfriend won it for me at the local fair last year, and –”

Steve drops the stuffed rabbit as if it’s made out of hot coals. You clear your throat, quickly rearranging your stuffies to how they looked before he came and disrupted them.

“So, as I was saying. We should start on essay structure. Have you thought of a topic you want to write your essay on?”

“Shut up about the fucking essay structure for a second, would you? I’ve had a long day at practice.” His voice comes out like a bite, and you feel your heart sink. He’s moved on from your bed to your open closet – and you can’t believe his audacity, casually sifting through your clothes as if everything within is his property. He lets out a low whistle, “You really don’t own anything apart from these ugly, oversized hoodies you’re always wearing, do you?”

You regard him carefully – why is he trying to make conversation with you? He probably just wants to put off doing the essay, your mind reasons. Then you remember he asked you a question and you clear your throat.

“I like my hoodies, they’re comfortable.” You really don’t know what else to say.

Steve snorts, “Omegas like you should wear dresses and skirts only, if you ask me. Real girly shit, and for easier access too.” He has one of your hoodies in his hand, and he gives it a lingering sniff before throwing it back in your closet. You wrinkle your nose.

“I don’t really agree with that, Steve.” You say softly, but decide to leave it at that.

“You do agree, deep down.” He meanders his way over to your dresser, aimlessly going through all your strewn out personal belongings. And you don’t know why you just… let him do it. His eyes are sharp and shrewd while he examines your lip balm, your keychains, your perfumes. “All omegas know their rightful place deep down. Especially you,” He glances back at you, eyes so startlingly navy. “You’re more naturally submissive than any other omega I’ve ever met.”

As with many of the things he’s said in the past few minutes, you have no idea how to respond. So, you just keep your mouth shut and stand there in the middle of your room while he goes through your things. The textbooks and notes lie dejectedly on your desk, yet to be picked up and used. You distinctly wonder if you’re going to get any essay work done today at all.

Deep in thought, you don’t notice at first when Steve picks up the bottle of suppressants. You’re only alerted when you hear a low growl that seems like it’s emanated straight from his chest as he rattles the small pills around in the bottle.

“So this is what you use to hide that scent of yours during class.” Steve accuses, as if condemning you for even daring to mask your scent. But being the only omega in a class full of alphas, the suppressants are a strong necessity.

“But they don’t work in here, do they, omega?” His tone is dark, matching the look in his eyes, and he throws the bottle of pills behind him somewhere. “I can smell your sweet scent everywhere in here.” He takes a step towards you and you swallow hard, head all jumbled and more than a little bit scared of him. Why was he acting so odd? Surely, he wouldn’t try anything? No. Definitely not. Steve hates you, he’s practically repulsed by you.

“Steve, please. Please, can we just study? Please?” Your voice comes out shaky, your palms are clammy, you can feel your heart racing. What exactly is he doing to you? You’ve almost forgotten why he’s even here, because suddenly all you can think about is summer nights and the crackling smell of firewood – his scent. It’s so overwhelming that you can almost taste it. But the piles of textbooks and your open laptop remind you why he’s really here.

Surprisingly, Steve shrugs. “Okay, sure. Let’s do it.” The carnal look on his face is replaced by his usual laidback smirk – his expression switching as easily as taking off a mask.

He goes to sit on your bed, but you quickly step in front of him. Having a man who isn’t your boyfriend on your bed, in your nest of blankets, pillows and stuffed animals – it seems dangerously intimate. It might just make you feel things you’d rather not feel while you’re trying to tutor him on World Politics. Plus, it doesn’t seem right, having him on your bed when poor Peter has no clue you’re even with someone else right now.

“I-I was thinking we could work on my desk.”

“Oh yeah? Your desk which only has one chair?” Steve raises an eyebrow at you and once more, you feel your cheeks heating up.

“Oh, uh, sorry I didn’t realise, um…” You quickly survey your room, “I mean, we could sit on the floor. We’d probably have the most room there anyways, plus there’s a carpet and –” Your voice trails off when you see Steve settle down on your desk chair anyways, swivelling around to give you a smile. A smile. He’s never really smiled at you before. You feel your heart swell.

“On second thought, I think your desk is the best idea.” Steve says, leaning back and beckoning you over – and you do walk over, awkwardly standing in front of him.

“B-But, where will I sit?”

“B-But, where will I sit?” Steve mocks you in a high-pitched faux baby voice before reaching out to grab your hand. Before you realise what’s happening, you’ve unceremoniously been yanked right off your feet and straight on top of him, perched on his knee, eyes wide and almost bugging out of your head, with his hand squeezing your waist. “You can sit right here, omega.”

A billion different thoughts rush through your head. Why is he doing this? Steve, who in the past has expressed the most outward disgust at the mere thought of touching you. And now he’s in your room, on your chair with you in his lap? And this shit-eating grin on his face? Is this all a cruel joke? Any second, will he push you down on the floor and laugh in your face?

“Th-This is inappropriate.” You try and shift off him, but the hand he’s got around your waist is like a vice, and instead he pulls you closer to him, till you’re sitting on his thigh with your back flush against his abs.

“Hey, you’re the one who only has one desk chair. I’m just trying to make the best out of the situation.” Steve says in the most easy-going way possible. As if he doesn’t have you trapped on his lap with your heart about to beat out of your ribcage. And it amazes you, how he can switch from domineering to easy-going, from serious to snickering in just mere seconds.

“But this isn’t right. Look, Steve, you know I have a boyfriend–” (If anything, his grip tightens even more when you say that) “– and I’m not comfortable with this at all. M-Maybe I’ll just stand, if that’s okay?” You make another move to get up, but Steve may as well have you chained to him, with how strong his grip is.

“Stay put, omega.” The soft, commandeering order is almost beguiling against your ear, and you cease any struggle immediately. When Steve speaks next, he sounds as casual once more: “There we go. See, now we’re both comfortable. Let’s start.”

Well, you feel like you’re about to spontaneously combust on the spot, but sure; let’s start. You try your hardest to concentrate, pulling out your notes and explaining how you’ve already narrowed down a list of potential essay topics for him to write about – all he has to do is pick one.

But the whole time you’re talking, you’re also hyper-aware of Steve’s arm which remains tightly locked around your waist – as if he thinks you’ll jump up and run away or something (you wouldn’t dare, you’re too scared of him to do that).

“So, why don’t you go ahead and pick an essay topic, Steve?” You ask him softly after you’re done explaining each one in detail.

“It’s really hot in here. Don’t you feel hot?” Is the response you get.

You sigh, “No, Steve, I don’t feel hot. Please can you pick an essay topic?”

“Well, I feel hot. And I can’t concentrate when I feel hot.”

Turning slightly to look at him, you’re met with his blue eyes up close – you’ve never been this close to him before (obviously not since you’ve never been in his lap) and his eyes are absolutely breath-taking – like sky blue speckled with green, sparkling yet shadowed with a peculiar darkness. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips – which look so plump and pink that you have to look away immediately.

“It’s this thing you’re wearing.” Steve says, roughly fingering the material of your hoodie. “It’s so thick and off-putting. You’re gonna need to take it off if we’re gonna continue.”

Your jaw drops open, “What? That literally makes no sense, Steve! How can my hoodie make you feel hot?”

Steve squeezes your hip with the hand that’s holding you in place, “So you do have a sassy side huh? Just remember, I prefer it when you’re docile and submissive.”

It’s a gut reaction for you to bow your head, “I’m sorry. B-But I’m not taking my hoodie off.”

“Take it off. Now.”

You focus on your hands on your lap, trying hard to tune out every muscle in your body which is aching to obey him. “I could… I can open the window for you?”

“I said now, omega. Don’t make me repeat myself again.” Steve’s order is so menacing, you feel a shiver run down your spine. It contrasts with the sudden heaviness of the air in the room. It’s his scent, whiffs and whiffs of it, just radiating off his being. You feel like you’re drowning in it, like it’s the hottest summer day and he’s the sun and, and, and…

You shrug your hoodie off, your body wiggling to get it over your head until he helps you, tugging the material off you in a single pull and throwing it somewhere behind him. And now you’re left with just your tank top, on his lap and at his mercy.

“There we go, don’t you feel so much better now? I know I do.” And now Steve sounds cheery again, and you’re almost floored – it’s giving you whiplash, how fast he’s switching between domineering alpha and cheerful jock.

“I actually feel kind of cold now.” You say softly, hoping that maybe a tiny part of him will be sympathetic and allow you to put your hoodie back on. The truth is – you like your oversized clothes; you feel safe in them. Now, you feel all exposed – especially with him so, so close to you.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll keep you warm.” Your eyes widen at the baby and you get another strong whiff of a hot summer’s day. The power and potency of his scent effectively makes you disregard any insinuation in his words, and it also seems to erase away the guilty thoughts about Peter that persist in your head.

Trying to get your thoughts in order, you focus back on the only thing that seems to be making sense right now, and that’s your notes. Since Steve seems to be refusing to pick a topic, you go ahead and pick one for him and continue on to the introduction. “So, this is really basic and obviously you already know this, but the introduction would be like a preview of everything you’re going to argue, as well as introducing key concepts and definitions.”

“Mmhm.”

His response is better than nothing, so you continue: “I’ve got a list of key concepts and theories you can use. In fact, I’ve got a whole lot of notes on the introduction, so I can just give those to you and it’ll be like a cheat sheet, and –”

You feel Steve’s nose graze against the nape of your neck, and it makes you stop short. You almost sigh at the contact. Almost. It’s a peculiar feeling; he’ stroking his nose against your bare skin, inhaling deeply as he does so. At first, you think nothing of it – it’s just a simple graze. But he doesn’t stop – and now he’s full-on rubbing it against you. His grip on you tightens, he pulls you taut against him, and he presses his nose into your sensitive skin, inhaling you almost as if he wants to eat you.

“Your suppressants are wearing off, omega.” He growls, burying his whole face into your neck and taking several deep whiffs as you sit frozen on his lap. Suddenly, you can feel something hard beneath you, something rock hard.

“I-I… I’m sorry.” You squeak out, not knowing what exactly you’re apologising for – he’s literally going to town on your neck; digging his face into it, you can even feel the brush of his lips. But it’s when his teeth graze against your mating gland that you jerk away, cursing your cheap brand of suppressants. “I’m sorry, Steve. I take them every morning but they w-wear off in the evening. Let me… Let me just go take some more.”

“NO!” He practically roars, and you’ve never seen him like this. There’s a fire behind his eyes, and they’re so dark. So blown out and dark. And his body’s so solid behind you, so big – and so hardunderneath you. And all you’ve ever known is Peter’s softness. Shit. Peter.

Steve seems so distracted by your scent that you’re able to loosen his grip and jump off his lap, backing away slowly while he regards you with narrow eyes and a dark gaze. He’s got one hand running through his blonde hair, making it look all dishevelled and messy, the other one dangerously close to his clothed crotch. You avert your gaze.

“M-Maybe I should stay over here, and you should stay over there.” You suggest meekly, going to sit on the edge of your bed. A part of your mind is still hopelessly hanging on to the idea that the tutoring session is going to continue after… after whatever the hell that was. “You can look over my notes and you can… you can keep them. You can take them back home with you.”

“Baby, I think we both know that I’m not ready to go home.” Steve licks his lips.

He stands up to his full height, so tall and big and looming over you, like you’re a puppy, kicked and cornered, and he’s the predator stalking his prey. It only takes him about two strides to get to you, and that’s when you realise what a big mistake it was to sit on your bed.

In a flash, Steve is on top of you, caging you between his muscular body and the mattress underneath. You push futilely against his chest, turning your head to the side so you don’t have to look directly into his intense stare. That proves to be another mistake, because he just nuzzles your neck again, taking another strong inhale of your scent like he can’t get enough of it.

“S-Steve, what are you doing?” You’re not sure you want to know the answer.

“You smell… You smell fucking incredible.” Is all he says, and now you can feel his hardness pressing against your lower belly. Oh God. Oh no, oh no, oh no…

“Steve, please, I-I have a boyfriend, please!”

But he’s already tugging at your leggings, and there’s this carnal desperation to his movements, this unmatched strength that makes your resistance so incredibly futile that it’s almost laughable.

“You really thought you could invite me into your room where you’re smelling all sweet, with your nest and these fucking stuffed animals smelling like your omega pussy, and I wouldn’t react?” He growls, practically rutting his bulge against your quivering body. And it’s so unfair, because you didn’t invite him, he invited himself. You didn’t want this.

Right?

“Just let me put the tip in.” Steve breathes against your neck, your leggings now discarded somewhere on the bed and your panties being tugged off next. You feel hot tears welling up in your eyes, tears of desperation, tears of how the fuck did it get to this? But Steve’s adamant, his hot lips dragging up from your neck to your ear, “It’s your fault… So you gotta help me out. Just the tip, baby. Just to calm me down. Then we can continue with the essay.”

Your eyes pop open at the mere mention of his dick going inside of you. What? What did he just suggest? You shake your head vehemently, even though you can feel your pussy clench at his words. “N-No, Steve, please no!” His words from earlier flash through your mind: “Y-You said you wouldn’t go near me if I was the last person on campus!”

He’s full on thrusting his hips into yours now, effectively dry humping into you; the glint in his eyes similar to that of a man possessed. “C’mon, baby. You know I only said that to keep the rest of them away from you.” Your eyes pop open at this revelation, or maybe it’s because Steve’s sponging kisses on the hot skin of your neck as he whispers darkly, “They all wanna fuck you, baby. And we can’t have that, can we?”

Why would Steve care? You think to yourself momentarily, before you try once more to push him off. “I have a boyfriend, Steve! And you! You have a girlfriend too!”

Steve moves his head back before pressing his forehead against yours, eyes boring into yours, “So? It’s not cheating if it’s just the tip.”

Maybe if you weren’t so drunk on his scent, maybe if he wasn’t currently rutting his hard dick against your panty-covered pussy, maybe then you would’ve been able to recognise the stupidity of his statement. But right now, he’s practically rendered you delirious – you’re a mix of fear and sensations, so you just sniffle through your tears: “R-Really, Steve?”

“Yes. It’s not sex if it’s just the tip, therefore it’s not cheating. So you can relax about your beta cuck boyfriend.” He’s talking to you like you’re a baby, all condescending but it only seems to rile you up further. You’re pretty sure your panties are soaked through and have been for a while now – ever since he pulled you onto his lap – but you don’t want to admit it. Just like you want to push out every thought of Peter from your mind.

“B-But what about your girlfriend?” You ask him, thinking back to just yesterday after class when Steve had his girlfriend pinned against the wall, kissing the life out of her while you watched.

Steve rolls his eyes, “What about her? Just think of it as you helping me out. Just like you helped me out with the essay. Just an omega doing her rightful duty and helping out her alpha.”

Her alpha. The words seem to imprint into your very being, echoing around in your head and making your heart soar. You’re just helping him out – you should help him out, shouldn’t you? You wantto help him out. And that’s your job, isn’t it? As an omega? To help people out?

“O-Okay, Steve.” The person who consents sounds like you, but is it really you? Is that really your voice, so lust-filled and submissive, giving the very man who’s made your life a living hell permission to enter your pussy? But it’s just the tip, it doesn’t count! You persuade yourself over and over again. “But just the tip! A-And then you’ll stop, right?”

The heaving and ragged sigh of relief that emanates through his body is unmissed by you, followed by a devilish smirk that almost covers up the look of absolute carnal need on his face. Almost. He smiles approvingly down at you. “Good girl. Of course I’ll stop. Now I want you on your hands and knees, presenting for your alpha. Now.”

His order has you scrambling to obey, and in your head, you keep reciting: it’s not cheating, it’s not cheating, it’s not cheating.But there’s a tiny voice at the back of your brain that questions whether you’d have cared even if it was?

He gives your ass a hefty slap once you get into position, and the smack resonates straight between your legs, making your pussy practically throb for him. You bite your lip, trying to ignore it: “Steve, please! Just the tip, okay? I’m trusting you.”

“Just the tip.” Steve promises, getting on his knees behind you, pulling you by the hips till your ass is flush against his clothed cock – which is so hard you feel like your heart’s gonna beat out of your chest. You feel his hand caressing your bottom, fingering the soft material of your underwear. “You’ve got such pretty panties, omega. All flowery and cute. I told you girly shit would suit you.”

But then he rips them off, and you’ve got your face buried into the mattress (because maybe that way you can escape the sinful pleasure you’re feeling, you can pretend this isn’t happening). But you can hear him inhale deeply, and you know he’s sniffing your panties, sniffing the scent of your juices that have dampened them.

“You’re so wet for me, omega.” Steve murmurs, rubbing his large hands over the sensitive skin of your ass, before a single finger trails down to your folds, swirling the wetness around lewdly, making your cheeks burn yet you clench at the same time. “This little omega pussy is just crying for daddy, isn’t it?”

“Steve,” You whine, trying to ignore the jolt of pleasure you feel from his sinful words. This whole situation is sinful, no matter what you try to persuade yourself. How will you justify this to Peter? How can you justify this to anyone? “Steve, you said this is just to ca-calm you down! Y-You said–”

“Shut the fuck up, I know what I said!” He snaps, but his finger doesn’t let up, swirling and rubbing at your wetness – doing the most yet not doing enough because he’s ignoring your throbbing bundle of nerves completely. Wait. It’s not like you want him to touch you there, is it? But your wetness is seeping down your thighs, and it’s so abundantly clear:

You’ve never been more turned on in your life.

You hear a rustle behind you, and the dull thud of his clothes hitting the floor. And then suddenly his finger’s gone from between your legs, quickly replaced with the hard, angry tip of his dick. Your body goes completely still, rigid as Steve guides his dick up and down, stroking your folds almost gently.

“Oh, fuck…” You whimper, and he smirks.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” One look over your shoulder and you see Steve’s gaze zeroed in on your pussy, his dick in his hand as he glides it over your wetness, dipping between your folds and earning a soft gasp from you, his brows furrowed and a look of almost manic concentration on his face, “Tell daddy it feels good.”

“It feels good!” You answer him automatically, and you’re ashamed to admit it to yourself but those words are an understatement. It feels fucking incredible – and he’s not even inside you! Any thought of Peter is effectively wiped out of your mind with each swipe of Steve’s hard cock, the bulbous tip creating delicious sensations that crawl up your body.

“Such a fucking pretty pussy,” Steve growls, pushing the thick tip of his dick into you and earning another breathy cry from you. But then he stills and moves no further, his tip lodged inside you, his fingers digging into your hips so hard, you know they’ll bruise. “Now tell me, baby. Does this pretty little omega pussy want more?”

A long pause, and the word “No” is on the tip of your tongue – you swear it is. But you’re also subconsciously rutting your hips backwards against his dick, and from the way he’s meeting your thrusts as he shallow-fucks you, he’s completely aware of this too.

“Y-Yes…” You cry out, words brimming with shame, “Yes, daddy, I want more... Please!”

You half expect him to pull out completely, laugh in your face and reveal it’s all a sick joke. Instead, it takes Steve less than a second to completely sheath you with his gigantic dick, your pussy squelching noisily as it stretches to take his girth. He’s so big, bigger than anyone else you’ve ever been with – so overwhelmingly big that it burns. But the hurt is so good, because you feel so full once he’s inside you completely, full like how you’ve never ever felt before.

Steve lets out a guttural groan as he bottoms out inside you, his balls slapping against your pussy as he grabs a handful of your hair, pulling you back till you’re on your knees and flush against him. “My pussy.” He says it with a chilling finality, licking the shell of your ear lewdly.

You know it’s wrong, but Steve’s dick feels like heaven even though you know you might as well be in hell. And he’s fucking you hard from the get go, his bruising touch all over you; hands snaking around you from behind to tear off your tank top, tear off your bra like he’s a crazed animal and you’re his prey who’s completely stopped running from him.

“Cute little fucking omega, always acting so sweet and innocent. Bet you didn’t think you’d be on your hands and knees for me, did you?” Steve rips into you with his words just like his cock is currently ripping into your body, tearing you in two. “Fuck, this is the sweetest little pussy I’ve ever had, who knew this was hiding underneath all those fucking hoodies.”

“Oh, Oh, fuck, daddy!” It’s all you can say as he manhandles you over his cock, taking complete control of your body which is quickly going limp in his hands. He’s got a death-grip on your hips, mauling you onto his hard cock as it spears into you again and again, hitting your special spot just right, making you cry out his name as every other conscious thought melts away from your mind.

“Gonna make you dress all nice and pretty, gonna make you my little omega slut,” Steve promises you through gritted teeth, one of his hands slipping up to wrap around your throat. “It’s all me from now on, baby. All me. Not that fucking boyfriend of yours. Just me.” He accentuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, and you feel so dumb, mind void of anything apart from the pleasure he’s providing you, that his words barely register in your head.

“You’re mine.” He growls, hot breath fanning against the back of your neck. And again, you can feel his teeth graze against your mating gland, “You’ve been mine the second you stepped into that class you have no fucking business being in.” He’s tugging hard at your hair, pulling you so flush against him as you writhe and moan in mindless pleasure. “Say you’re mine, baby. Say this little pussy belongs to your alpha.”

Steve has effectively fucked you dumb and delirious, you’re a quivering mass of sensations as you hump back against him, crying his name, calling him daddy, ready to contort your body in every which way for him. But maybe it’s that one semblance of shame inside you, that one part of you that aches for what you’re doing to Peter. It stops you from saying what he wants you to say, and you just shake your head desperately.

“Oh, now you wanna be shy again, huh? After you made me come to your dorm room and practically begged me to fuck you.” Steve’s brazenly bending the truth but you don’t even care, mind too full with the incredible feel of him fucking into you. He gives your ass a harsh smack, the sound echoing around your tiny room. “Fine, you don’t think I can make you say you’re mine? You underestimate me, baby.”

Steve pulls out of you, leaving you gaping as he stands up. You protest weakly when he picks you up, it’s lightweight for him considering just how much smaller you are than him, and you writhe in his arms as he carries you over to your desk. You’re confused, mewling at the loss of contact, “Daddy, please put it back inside. Please…” You whine weakly but unashamedly. And then he sits down on your desk chair and plunges you back down on his dick, his hand snaking forward to grab something off your desk.

Your phone.

Too easily, he waves it in front of your face and unlocks it.

“Let’s give your little boyfriend a Face-Time call, shall we, omega?”

“Steve! No! Don’t, please don’t!” The panic sets in almost immediately, mixing in with the burning sensations in your belly from being impaled by his dick. You scramble to snatch your phone from him, but he’s too quick for you, easily holding it out of your reach. Cruelly, he begins bouncing you up and down on his dick, one hand gripping your hip tightly to control the pace, his other hand holding your phone as he casually scrolls through your contacts.

“What’s his name, baby? Tell me so we can show him that his little girlfriend seduces alphas in her dorm room while he’s not around.”

“N-No, Steve, please! Please don’t do this!” The tears are rolling freely down your cheeks now, your hair’s a mess, and yet he’s still bouncing you up and down, making you ride his dick as you beg for him not to do what he’s threatening to do.

“Tell me his name right fucking now, omega. Or else I’ll fucking record you and send it to all your contacts.” Steve switches to menacing once again, hissing into your ear as he threatens you.

“Peter, his name’s Peter! Steve, I’m begging you, don’t do this!” You cry, heart sinking, and yet you feel the coils in your lower body tightening, the feel of his big dick sliding in and out of you so good that you can’t ignore it.

But Steve is cruel, and it only takes him a few seconds to find Peter’s name on your phone, and you scrunch your eyes shut in pure horror – you really can’t believe this is happening. But you also can’t believe you’ve let Steve of all people fuck you – and you’re enjoying it.

It only rings about twice before Peter answers the video-call.

“Hey, babe, what’s up– WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“C’mon, baby, don’t be shy now. Say hi to Peter.” Steve mocks wickedly, propping the phone up on your desk so it captures everything clear as day: you naked on Steve’s lap, his cock lodged deep inside you as he bounces you up and down, his hand around your throat and the other one squeezing your breast lewdly.

You only cry harder, the tip of Steve’s dick you so deep from this angle, brushing against your g-spot and making you moan between your weeping, “I’m s-so sorry, Peter, I’m so sorry! Oh fuck!” You can’t help but cry out between your shameful apology, as Steve twists your nipple and drives his cock into you even harder.

“She wanted to call you to tell you how sorry she was for cancelling on you today,” Steve explains, sounding so smug and casual and unaffected, as if he doesn’t have you delirious and crying your eyes out on top of him. “She can’t help that she’s an omega slut, you see. She just wanted my alpha dick so bad, that’s why she had to cancel your plans.”

You’re squeezing your eyes shut again, hoping you can zone all of this out. You can’t bear to look at Peter, can’t bare to see his reaction, can’t bare to listen to him as he sputters and calls out your name, as if willing you to put an end to this, to explain yourself, anything. All you can do is blabber ‘I’m sorry, Peter, I’m sorry’ over and over again as you’re manhandled and fucked on Steve’s dick.

“Baby, tell Peter who you belong to, and maybe I’ll make this easier for you.” Steve says before clamping down on your neck, biting and sucking so close to your mating gland that you shudder. “Tell Peter who your little pussy belongs to, tell him how good your daddy’s fucking you. Tell him how fucking badly you want my knot. Tell him, or fucking else.”

“Steve!” You cry, pleasure mounting up inside of you despite everything. “I belong to Steve! My alpha!” You’re delirious, repeating his name over and over again, crying in half bliss and half shame, “Daddy, please! I belong to you. I’m yours! Please! Please give me your knot! Give it to me, please! Need it, I need it so fucking bad, daddy please!”

“Such a good fucking girl for your alpha.” Steve says darkly, and it’s his praise that tips you over the edge. Your orgasm hits you so fast and hard, like a gigantic wave of pleasure that has you completely floored. Everything’s forgotten except Steve and his dick, and he continues to talk you through it, “That’s right baby, squeeze daddy’s dick just like that. I’m gonna pump you full of my fucking babies, you hear me? You hear that?” He raises his voice as if he’s talking to Peter too, telling him everything he plans to do to you.

Steve’s thrusts get more frenzied, and now you’re limp against him, body twitching from the pure bliss of your orgasm. He’s effectively using you like a fuck-doll now, rutting up into you with such a carnal energy, you feel like you’re going to break into two pieces.

“Gonna make you take my fucking knot, fill this tiny omega pussy to the brim with my cum. Get you pregnant, make you walk around this fucking university round with my babies. What’re you gonna do then, huh? Maybe finally learn your fucking place as an omega. Drop the fuck out and just be my personal little cumdump omega. Have my fucking babies and know your fucking place!”

Steve lets out a guttural growl, clutching you tightly against him. If he was insane before, it’s nothing compared to how crazed he’s acting now. Like an alpha owning you in every sense of the word, you cum again, whimpering at his dark promises. And his knot expands, locking him inside of you snugly as his dick twitches, and then ropes of his hot seed release inside of you, burning you, claiming you. Spurt after spurt, so much cum that you feel like your poor abused pussy is drowning in it.

“Fuck, such a good little omega.” Steve groans through gritted teeth as he continues to spill inside of you.

And you rut back into him, Peter forgotten, embarrassment forgotten. Only pure bliss, this full feeling, and Steve himself on your brain as you both moan out in utter ecstasy, Steve clutching you close as he empties inside of you.

It takes you a few minutes to catch your breath and open your eyes. You’re still on Steve’s dick, he’s still holding you close, breathing hard with his arms around you. Your phone lies on your desk, screen black – Peter understandably having hung up. You can’t even think of Peter right now, with how full you feel. With what you’ve just allowed to happen.

“Don’t think.” Steve commands you, as if he can read your mind which feels like it’s about to break in two with all the thoughts rushing inside of you. And so, you stop thinking, allowing your alpha (wait, what?) to carry you back to your bed, holding your cowering, quivering body with one muscular arm while he uses his other hand to swipe away your stuffed animals.

“I’ll get you new ones.” Steve says, and you’re too dumbed down by the sheer fucking you’ve just gone through to even detect what kind of tone he says it in. “You don’t need anything he got for you. Not anymore.”

He puts you to bed – the same man who’s made you cry and ruthlessly bullied you in front of everyone – he puts you to bed and even gets in next to you, pulling you close, his semi hard dick pressing against your back and making you whimper.

“S-Steve…” You say softly, not knowing what to say but wanting to say something. You suddenly feel so tired. So tired and so confused.

“Quiet, omega.” He instructs you, and immediately you close your parted lips. And you let him wrap his arms around you and pull you even closer. You don’t understand what’s going on but it feels nice to be held by him.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you’re mine, omega.” Steve says, “From now on, I’ll make sure everyone knows it. Make you act like a proper omega, dress you up real pretty, fuck you good and make you take my knot every single fucking day. So, you can forget about Peter. Or anyone else for that matter. From now on, it’s all me. Got it?”

“Yes, alpha.”

“Good girl.”

*Part 2*

(A/N: Alright, so whoever made it till the end, thank you so much for reading! This took me ages to write! Please, please leave any feedback, and do reblog and tag anyone whom you think might be interested! I honestly would love any and all feedback, as I do want to write a part 2 and continue to explore this pairing plus address certain questions raised in this one shot! But please, do let me know what you think! As a writer, I would genuinely love your insight! Also, this was my first time writing a/b/o so I get that it's perhaps not accurate or perfect. Apart from that, I hope you enjoyed!)

->requests are open<-

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fluffy-kittenn · 2 years

Text

sinful night

Warning! Sexual content ahead! Minors please dni!

from the series reinvented christmas songs

pairing: fem!reader x nakamoto yuta

genre: dom! yuta, sub! reader, smut

word count: 2k

warnings: brief mention of substance use(blunt), bondage, sensory deprivation, ice play, slapping, degradation, nipple clamps, spitting, dacryphilia, manual stimulation.

a/n: i'm so late with this arggfhhhhhgs. i'm glad it's out tho!! you don't understand how H.O.T this scenario was in my head. i only hope that it came out the same on here, as well. hope you enjoy xoxo.

"stay put!" yuta growls as he slides the ice cube from your neck, slowly, to your chest. you hiss under the cold feeling as he circles one of your nipples with it, moving on to the next one not even ten seconds later. the sensation makes you shiver, your nipples becoming so hard that they start to hurt.

the position you were in right now was compromising, to say the least. blindfolded with each of your limbs tied to the four corners of the bed with red colored rope, naked as the day you were born. your spread legs revealed the most sensitive part of you, which was leaking more by the minute. not many got to see you laid out like this.

if you were being honest, no one got to see you like this. except yuta.

nakamoto yuta was a hard man to pin down, or at least that was what you read. but it was only obvious that a man so good at his job would lack time. back when he contacted you to confirm your session you thought it was a bad joke. you've been annoying your friend talking about him for ages, and with christmas being close, she decided that booking a session for you would be the most fitting gift. except, she forgot to tell you.

so when you woke up to the phone ringing, hearing his voice give you a time and date was the last thing you thought you'd wake up to. you still recognized his honeyed voice. he used to be not only your high school mate, but your crush as well. and you don't remember a time since, that you ever liked someone that much. that is why you were always talking about him. you didn't remember how you encountered the information, but when you did you were in complete and utter shock. him? being a professional dom? holy fuck, you were intrigued. you asked your friends, and even searched up the alias he went by on google, but you didn't find more than a shady site with only his number and services on there. the reviews were insane though, every anonymous comment describing in detail their lovely experience, but how on the downside, he rarely did second meetings or have space for new ones as well. how many people were going to see him, exactly? you would be lying if you said you didn't think about some of the ones who wrote the reviews, in your alone time. and how it would feel like for you.

but you didn't have to wonder anymore. yuta was professional, he tried hard to hide the surprise on his face when he saw you at the door, but you knew he recognized you. even if you didn't keep in touch, you used to run in the same circle of friends back in the old days of the prison that was high school. you always watched him from afar, and he always kept a respectable distance. maybe that was what attracted you to him. how he would maintain contact with you while talking to other people, or how he would unnecessarily(but very much welcomed) brush his fingers over yours while handing you the blunt you would roll with your friends at parties, and how he never acted upon it. the tease, the intention of setting it aflame followed by disinterest in putting the fire out. that's who he liked to be, and seemingly, he decided to turn his personality traits into a career.

you jolt under the feeling of the ice cube tracing the inside of your thighs, making you shiver as it grazes the soft skin. you've already been here for twenty minutes and yet he hasn't laid a finger on you. it was for his touch that you came, his touch that you craved so badly. the only thing that you wanted to tell him you wanted when he asked what you're into. he figured out you were new to this kind of stuff in the first five minutes. seeing how you remained frozen when he asked your limits, he just listed some things to help you, and you just picked out whatever you wanted to try out.

you suck air in as the cold surface makes contact with your sensitive clit, back arching while your hands pull involuntarily. the ropes dig deep into the flesh of your wrist.

"i thought i told you to stay put." he says and the next thing you know is only the stinging pain against your thigh as he slaps it with force. it takes you by surprise and you scream shortly. he chuckles in satisfaction upon hearing you. you didn't know what he liked better: inflicting your pain for his own pleasure or for hearing your reaction. although if you thought about it, the second would take a big part in his pleasure as well. was he telling you not to move because he didn't liked it when you disobeyed or did he tell you not do it because he liked it so much that he was afraid he might lose the tiniest bit of control over you?

"you've always been a pretty little thing, but you're even prettier this way." yuta mumbles under his breath. your heart starts beating faster after hearing his confession, the wetness between your legs only leaking into nothingness even more. you wanted to stick your legs together, to get some sort of friction or at least to hide the effect that he had on you, but you couldn't. your ankles were safely secured for this exact purpose. he laughed to your attempt.

"you're such a desperate fucking slut. never took you for one." he said as he placed the ice cube on your skin again, tracing the outline of your thigh. you wished you could see him, see the way he paid attention to your every move, see the way he enjoyed it. but you were blinded, left only to imagine what it could look like. the complete erotic image you pictured inside your head made your pussy pulsate around nothing.

he brought the ice cube to your clit again, moving slow circles around it, a little more used to the feeling, you tried to let yourself captured by the pleasure. it was too intense and not enough at the same time, numbing all your senses by the second. he retracted it from you as soon as he heard your moans, not letting you have any pleasure that he couldn't control.

you felt the bed shift under you, waiting nicely for whatever was to come, not letting any sound out other than your heavy breath. what came next was out of a sudden, the air was knocked out of you as he placed two clamps on your nipples. a complete different kind of pain than what he offered you with the ice. you weren't sure if this could easily turn into pleasure for you.

red. you remember the safe word and just as you try spitting it out, you feel how the clamps on your nipples are pulled upwards, another whimper of pain coming out your mouth. you figure the two are tied together, due to how they move in tandem. he takes it slowly, not pulling too hard but keeping you on your tiptoes as well. the flesh of your breasts now hanging, weighing down your nipples. you started to enjoy it slowly as he slightly tugged them left and right.

"really thought this would be your breaking point," he whispers as he lets your breasts settle back down on your chest, nipples still pressured by the metal clamps. "i guess you're more of a whore than i thought." he completes.

"yuta-ARGH" your plead for his name gets cut by your scream after he tugs hardly on your nipples. your back rising immediately trying to suppress some of the pain but to no avail, you just sob under him as your eyes start to sting up.

"don't call me that." he says as he finally takes them off, and you hear how he throws them somewhere in the back of the red lighted room. the bed shifts again and you feel his warm hands untying the ropes on your ankles. he places his hand beneath you, helping you rise up by your back as you position your legs under, sitting on your heels.

"did that hurt, pretty thing?" he says after finally removing your blindfold, coming to face with your tears. he was in the same position you were, shirtless, leaving his abs exposed before your naked body. it was the first time tonight that you've seen him so up close, under the red light he was even more dashingly handsome, his cold expression burning an imprint in your head once again. you nod for an answer and he smirks, he leans in closer and he licks your tears, one that slid down your right cheek, and one that was formed in the outer corner of your left eye. you don't even second guess his action as you feel his hot breath fanning on your face, tickling you in a pleasant way. he stops, face right in front of yours, lips only millimeters apart. if your hands wouldn't still be tied, you were sure that you'd cup his face and kiss him passionately right there.

"i need more than that." he says, tracing his index finger slowly up your torso, only so he can terrorize you more.

"do you wanna cum?" yuta asks and you nod once again.

"yes, please, i want to cum." you beg, leaning into his touch. he brings his index finger over your breast, tracing over your swollen nipple.

"how bad?" he interrogates once again as he twirls it in between his fingers. the sensation sends waves of heat over to your core once again, his touch more delicate and pleasant than the clamps he used before.

"really, really bad." you whimper under his soft touch, hoping it would last more than he would grant it to you.

"open your mouth." he commands an you obey immediately, opening wide for him. he spits into your wet cavern, letting a slow line of spit drip down his mouth onto your awaiting tongue. "swallow." and you don't need to hear it a second time to do what he tells you once again. he smiles proudly as he says "good slut".

he places his hands on your waist, rising you on your knees and doing it himself to meet your height. he spreads your legs apart, and gains better access to your core, not wasting a moment more before he brings his hand to your clit, rubbing it with precise, skilled movements. your arousal was already leaked down your thighs, making it so easy for him to slide his fingers into you. he didn't need to work too hard to pull an orgasm out of you, the build up was so much and so intense for you that you came in not even two minutes, and when you came you came harder than ever. your whole body shivered as you tried to bring yourself closer to him, your head buried in his shoulder, arms so far pulled back that your shoulder blades started to hurt. he guided you through it kindly, opposite of how he behaved until that point, not stopping the slow movements on your clit until a few moments later. you never felt a pleasure like this one, one that you felt moments before and moments after you reached your high. you prop your ass on the bed in defeat, head low and feeling ashamed as you breath harshly through moans.

"you know, i don't let anyone cum on the first meeting." yuta offers as he unties your wrists, slowly massaging each of them. then what made him do it for you? was it the fact that you used to be acquaintances?

"it'll be better if you don't pull your hands so much the next time." he says stroking your left arm. your eyes shoot up to him in surprise. you knew the pretentious man was very selective of who he chose to meet more than once. you were more than delighted to hear his words, you craved for as many meetings as he could give you.

"how about christmas night? maybe we could give each other a little present."

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