please eat enough and drink enough water and get enough sleep. this is so that you have enough energy. because we need you to be writing and drawing porn on the internet
noticed u said omega prince steve and alpha bucky are being filthy, does that imply you’re writing it?
👉🏻👈🏻
I blinked and it was 10k 💀 This is why we can't have nice things, man
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Okay, so the Omega Prince Steve thing:
Steve’s kingdom is all about wealth, refinement, and class while their neighbor and enemy is more earthy, rugged. Steve has no interest in the Alphas of his own country; they’re all too buttoned-up, polished. Their scents are…muted, somehow.
Steve has seen an Alpha or two of their enemy nation from afar and while he doesn’t know their scent, he still finds the men themselves intoxicating. There’s something real about them. They’re large and muscular and they carry themselves far, far differently—with an animal grace that says they haven’t completely abandoned their baser instincts. The Alphas of his own nation, they have; their base instincts have been stuffed into neat little boxes where they can pretend those instincts don’t exist.
No one realizes it yet, but their society has spent so long suppressing their true natures to appear more well-bred that they’re slowly losing touch with the part that makes them wolves. The longer they suppress the wolf, the harder it is for them to shift, their senses are slowly dull, etc.
The barbarians do no such thing. They embrace their animal nature and the more connected to it they are, the stronger they become.
Steve is not the crown prince of his nation. He’s the youngest child of the king, the only Omega, and the only runt. He was described as a quiet, happy babe, an inquisitive child, and now of mating age, he is considered the jewel of his people. When one thinks of the perfect Omega, they think first of their littlest prince. He’s coy, demure, inviting. Soft and docile and so very sweet. There is no one that better embodies what an Omega should be.
No one knows that the thing that makes him so perfect is that he’s embraced his animal nature, too. He hasn’t removed himself from the very instincts that make him an Omega. He’s free in a way the rest of them aren’t, because he isn’t afraid of his own desires.
And certainly no one knows that in the dark of night, that prim and proper Omega lays in bed and dreams of a brutish Alpha’s large hands on him, pinning him to the bed, mounting him with enough force that it hurts.
His favorite fantasies are always when it hurts.
Sometimes, when the flush of arousal becomes too much, Steve will slip his hands underneath the covers, scraping his nails sharply over his nipples, the slick rim of his hole. It’s his favorite way to come, that bite of pain. He’s learned, through the exploration of his own body, that the right pain gives him the most intense pleasure, especially when it’s to his hole, his cock, his nipples. He dreams of receiving that pain from a large, strong, devoted Alpha.
He happens upon the most improper manuscripts from authors unknown, detailing stories much like his fantasies. Perhaps not specifically of the pain, but of everything else—dainty Omegas being claimed by barbarian Alphas. Sometimes, the Omega is their captive and sometimes he isn’t. Sometimes, the Omega’s sweet scent has sent the Alpha into a rut. Sometimes, the Alpha’s pheromones have sent the Omega into heat. Either way, every time, the Alpha mounts the Omega in a moment of raw, animal hunger, fucking into him until the Omega receives his knot and his mating bite.
Helpfully, the manuscripts always provide an illustration of this moment—the Alpha and Omega together as they were meant to be. The Omega presented for his mate on his knees, his chest pressed to the floor. The Alpha behind him, on top of him, his hand around the Omega’s throat and teeth in his neck on top of his Omega, the Omega’s expression a mask of such exquisite pleasure it looks almost painful.
This is the part where Steve loses the battle with his wandering fingers. He plays with himself for hours to the sight of those drawings, the yearning desire to be the Omega mounted in them. To be taken the way he was meant to be, to be knotted.
It’s always Steve’s favorite part to imagine, the knotting. Because he isn’t a normal Omega; he’s a runt, smaller and more delicate than the rest of his kind. A knot would no doubt hurt him.
He craves for a knot to hurt him.
For years, this is Steve’s most secret desire: the rough handling of an Alpha, the ache of his cock, the pain of his knot. But that’s all they are: dreams. Fantasies. Something to get him through the monotonous day. He knows that as much as he desires it, he will never know any fulfillment. Certainly not sexually, but even in companionship, it’s doubtful.
He will never receive a rut, not even when he takes a husband. He will never be allowed to feel an Alpha at his most carnal, a slave of his most basic instinct that tells him to mount and fuck and mate.
The people of his country have so thoroughly abandoned their natures that most Alphas never experience a rut, nor do most Omegas ever go through their first heat.
Even if by some miracle, he was married to the scarce Alpha that did, Steve would not be allowed to receive it. It would be considered beneath his station. His husband would be expected to take a mistress or concubine or visit one of the Houses. Should he dare to ask, his very proper husband would no doubt look horrified at the notion.
After all, a rut is a blemish for the Alphas of his country—a shame that none wish to carry. To his people, it is a sign that the Alpha is still slave to his baser urges. An Alpha that goes through rut is not to be trusted. An Alpha that has gone through a rut and it’s known that he spent it with their royal spouse? He would never recover from the social shame.
Of course, his husband would be allowed to take his heat, should the damnable thing ever occur. That wouldn’t be shameful or below his station.
Steve would love a heat with the right person, but he takes a vicious thrill in knowing whatever Alpha he’s forced to marry will probably never know the pleasure of his. If he hasn’t had one yet, it’s very unlikely he ever will; certainly no Alpha in his country is enough to send him into one. They are all tedious and boring, their scents so repressed it’s hard to find a single one appealing.
No, he will never know the flush of heat rising in his body. He will never know an Alpha’s rut and he will never wear one’s claiming bite; his very proper society considers them both scandalous and barbaric. A brutal, primitive tradition from ancestors barely out of the forests. Nevermind that Steve has whiled away many an afternoon daydreaming of the ache of a fresh mating bite, a big body cradling his own, his mate licking obsessively at the mark the way the Alphas always do in his stories.
It’s true, what they say about him. He is the perfect Omega. A true Omega, born and bred, even if he is a runt. He craves an Alpha’s dominance to the very marrow of his bones; craves to be the object of one’s obsession, their desire, their greatest possession. It is what he was born to be.
Steve is a true Omega, but there are no true Alphas among his people. He has long since resigned himself to the knowledge that he will only know fulfillment in his dreams.
Until, that is—
Late one evening, there is a commotion outside his chambers. He’s reading one of his favorite stories, the flush of arousal just beginning to spread, but he cannot sink into it fully because whatever is happening outside his door keeps happening.
Frustrated, he abandons his pursuit of pleasure and slips back into the silky little shorts he’d donned after bathing. He grabs his favorite robe as he leaves his room, throwing it on haphazardly as he walks across the outer rooms of his chambers and throws open the door.
“What on earth is going on?” He asks the Beta guard standing there.
The guard glances at him and then looks again, his eyes widening. It’s only at that moment that it occurs to Steve what he must look like.
The flush to his cheeks. Redden lips from biting them as he read. His light, gauzy robe untied and slipping off one slender, bare shoulder, showing off his bare chest and dusky pink nipples, already tight and hard. The silky little shorts that feel like heaven again his skin.
He undoubtedly looks debauched and, in this Beta’s eyes, no better than naked. Steve adores his clothing, but it is more than scandalous among his people. He should’ve grabbed something more significant, if only to save the poor guard’s sensibilities.
It’s a good thing, he thinks, that so many of his people have lost their finer sense of smell. The Beta would have a stroke if he caught a whiff of Steve’s budding arousal on top of it all.
The Beta flushes a deep shade of red, swallowing roughly before he respectfully turns his gaze to the ceiling.
“A-an intruder, my prince,” he stammers hoarsely. “Do not worry, more guards are coming to protect you. Please stay in your room, we will keep you safe.”
Something jolts inside Steve, but he could not say if it was from fear or excitement if pressed.
“An intruder?” He repeats. “Where? In what part of the castle?”
The Beta’s eyes fall to him again instinctively before hastily looking back to the ceiling. His muted scent shifts.
“I do not know, Your Highness,” he says, voice strained. “P-please, go back into your room.”
Steve smiles. “Because you will keep me safe?” He teases.
The Beta whimpers, his hands fisting at his sides. His uniform does nothing to hide the tent now straining the front of his pants.
A commotion down the hall draws his attention. The Beta panics, stepping forward.
“Please, my prince,” he hisses softly, “before the others come. You should not be seen like this.”
And because Steve is a true Omega, desiring only to please those around him, he steps back and allows the guard to pull the door closed again. He smiles to himself, retreating back to his room and the hours of pleasure waiting for him there.
He doesn’t notice the shadow by his bed until it is far, far too late.
The scent hits him first: deep and rich, the scent of churned earth after rainfall, utterly intoxicating and undeniably Alpha—such a heavy, dominating thing that it’s almost a physical presence in the room with him. It tugs at something low in his gut, as if the scent is a calling and something deep and primal in Steve wants to answer it.
A very, very large man stands near his bed, his boot casually propped on the edge as he thumbs through the manuscript Steve abandoned only minutes before. Not just a man, Steve realizes belatedly through the sudden swimming in his head. An Alpha—the owner of the scent.
“What a naughty, naughty little prince,” the Alpha rumbles, his voice deep and amused.
Steve blinks, struggling to focus past that scent long enough to figure out what, exactly, is going on. There’s a strange Alpha in his room.
Oh. Oh. The intruder—
He gasps softly, turning on his heel to—he doesn’t know, to shout? To run? It doesn’t matter, because the Alpha is faster.
Large, rough-hewn hands take hold of him, one covering his mouth and the other locking around his waist to pull him against a devastatingly massive chest. Steve has met many Alphas in his time, but none so broad and muscular as this man. The Alpha radiates heat like a hearth in the dead of winter, their every point of contact burning.
“None of that now,” the Alpha murmurs in his ear. “Let’s not cause trouble. That poor man you terrorized is correct: you shouldn’t be seen in these clothes. You’ll cause a fucking riot.”
Steve flushes hot, his heart jolting. No one has ever sworn in front of him before; no one would ever dare. He’s only ever seen such crude words on a page. Hearing them spoken aloud feels vulgar, but in a way that he finds oddly exciting.
The Alpha loosens his grip on Steve’s waist, picking delicately at the robe.
“If you can even call these clothes,” he comments. “What a wicked little thing you are. Not even the Omegas of my land would dress like this.”
The Omegas of his…?
Steve blinks, struggling to process the words—to process anything, really, past the overwhelming presence of this looming Alpha. His warm body and strong arms, a scent more potent than a whole evening spent drinking wine. With every breath, Steve’s head swims, his mind growing hazy and his body deliciously warm, lax. It’s just so—wild. Uncontained.
Wild.
The Omegas of his land.
It clicks, finally.
The Alpha is a barbarian. An enemy of his people.
Steve gasps into the man’s palm, his heart stuttering in his chest. The Alpha wraps his arm around Steve’s waist again, keeping him in place.
“Shhhh,” the Alpha murmurs, soft and soothing. “Hush now. I mean you no harm, little prince. I swear it before the ancestors and the gods. This is merely the only room they won’t search. We’ll spend the evening together, you and I—all very proper, you have my word—and when they’ve given up, I’ll leave you in just the condition I found you in. You just have to keep quiet for a little while, that’s all.”
That big, warm body herds him toward the bedroom door.
“Shut the door. That’s it, nice and slow. Lock it. Now put the key in my pocket.”
Steve tries to obey, but doesn’t quiet manage it. His fingers spasm, dropping the key. The Alpha lets go of his waist, catching it before it hits the ground. Steve tries not to think too hard about what it means that his skin feels achingly cold and bereft every time the man stops touching him.
The Alpha tsks.
“None of that, pup,” he chides, pressing the key back into Steve’s palm. This time, he guides Steve to the right place, making him complete the task set out for him. “Into my pocket like a good boy.”
Since the moment the man grabbed him, Steve has been a frozen, trembling mess in his arms. He doesn’t know if the trembling is from apprehension or excitement—he thinks, with no small amount of shame, that it might be both.
He doesn’t know this man or his intentions, and that is something to fear. But the Alpha is so big it makes his head swim, and he’s so warm, his voice soft and rumbling. His touch, while firm, is still careful. But most of all, there’s his scent. It isn’t just the notes of wood and earth in it, calling to the forgotten animal inside him—the man’s scent is heavy, present and dominating. This Alpha fills a room without even trying.
Steve has never witnessed anything like it, not even from his own father, a king.
So, yes, there was a war in Steve. Apprehension and arousal have been battling inside him since he first saw the man in his bedroom, neither of them truly winning out until just this moment. Until that deep, rumbling voice murmurs pup and good boy. And now the war is won, arousal flushing through him hot and quick.
How many times has he read those same words in his stories? How many times has he dreamed of an Alpha saying them to him? Of being mounted as he’d told to be a good pup for his Alpha, to take it like a good boy? None of his fantasies compare to the reality of having them whispered in his ear when he can feel a warm chest vibrating against his back, when he’s wrapped up in a big, strong body and surrounded by a deliciously drugging scent.
His cock stiffens and, to his shock, his hole grows slick. No Alpha outside his own imagination has ever made him wet before, not even when he first presented. Of course, it would be this rugged barbarian stranger; this thief in the night with his wild scent and rumbling voice.
Helplessly, Steve moans.
The Alpha pauses suddenly, still a statue for several heartbeats. Then, carefully, he nudges his nose behind Steve’s ear and inhales deeply.
“You deviant little thing,” he whispers, but it’s a gentle, marveling tone, not at all cruel. “What is going on in that head of yours?”
Hesitantly, Steve reaches up to pull the Alpha’s hand from his mouth. The Alpha allows it, his big hand dropping to loosely hold Steve’s throat instead. For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of their breathing—the Alpha’s calm and even, Steve’s heavy and panting—and their opposing heartbeats, the Alpha’s just as calm as his breath, while Steve’s is a wild, galloping thing in his chest.
Finally, Steve gathers the courage to turn in the Alpha’s embrace. He rests his hands upon the Alpha’s chest, shivering at the feel of large, warm hands against the small of his back and wrapped around the back of his neck, and looks up at the intruder for the first time. The man before him is devastatingly handsome—much older than Steve, with thick hair and a strong stubbled jaw, full lips and a dimpled chin.
Steve wonders what it would be like to have his fingers buried in that hair, to be kissed by those full, red lips. He wonders how the heavy, dominating scent surrounding him would change with the Alpha’s arousal.
“Hi,” he whispers breathlessly.
The Alpha’s lips quirk. “Hi, pup.”
His bright gaze is hooded as it roams Steve’s face. His big, warm hand rubs along Steve’s spine, the touch so electric that Steve can hardly breathe from it. With only the mere suggestion of pressure on the back of his neck, the Alpha turns Steve’s face toward the firelight to gain a better look. His scent deepens, the earth fading from it until he smells only of ozone—the scent of an impending rainstorm.
“What a funny thing, fate,” the Alpha murmurs, his thumb sweeping along Steve’s neck. “The most coveted Omega in all the five lands, suitors far and wide journeying toward this city at this very moment for the chance to be your mate, and you somehow end up in my arms.”
Steve shivers, his breath stuttering as little sparks of pleasure crackle in his veins, heating him from the inside out. Everywhere the Alpha touches is burning hot and sensitive, and when that touch moves, the skin left in its wake is cold and aching, yearning for his heat again.
“The jewel of the Southern Sea, they call you,” the Alpha says. “No one in all the five lands can compare to your beauty, they say. Rumor has it most of your suitors know they have no hope of being chosen. They only want to see you for themselves.”
Steve has heard it all before. He knows what they say of him—the poetry to his beauty, the various nicknames: the Jewel of the Southern Sea, the Golden Rose, an Alpha’s Delight. There is even a prominent, ongoing rumor that he was godborn—his true mother, according to the whispers, being the moon goddess herself.
Part of him even understands. He looks nothing like his parents and siblings, pale and golden blonde and delicate while they’re all tan and sturdy and sandy-haired. He is the first runt of his bloodline, and the first Omega born to them in generations. Still, he has never cared about the whispers; he is loved fiercely by his parents, his packmates, his people. The rumors spread about him and what stock people put in them have never seemed of much consequence.
Until now, that is.
Steve bites his lip, glancing at the Alpha from beneath his lashes. A soft blush heats his cheeks.
“And you, Alpha?” He asks. “What say you, now that you have seen me? Do I please you or have you found me wanting?”
The Alpha laughs softly.
“You don’t need me to tell you how beautiful you are, pup,” he admonishes. “I believe you already know.”
Steve whines plaintively.
He is a true Omega, body and soul, down to the very marrow of his bones. He lives to please his pack, aches for their care and love and approval. But he has never wanted anyone’s approval as much as he wants this Alpha’s. He doesn’t know why, but it is vital that this Alpha find him pleasing.
Reaching up, he cups the Alpha’s strong, stubbled jaw in his hands. He pulls the Alpha down to him and obligingly, the Alpha bends until their lips are only a hair’s breadth apart, so close that they share the same breath.
“Tell me,” Steve begs softly. “Please, Alpha? Tell me, have I pleased you?”
The Alpha rumbles deeply, his heavy-lidded gaze roaming Steve’s face as his scent growing heavier yet.
“Are you trying to seduce me, pup?” He murmurs, squeezing the back of Steve’s neck. Not enough to hurt or frighten, just enough pressure to notice the change.
Steve’s heart stutters. “Could I?”
It seems preposterous, the idea that he could seduce such a virile, dominating Alpha—that he could sway him in any way. The Alpha was right, of course. Steve isn’t stupid; he knows that he’s beautiful. He has felt coveting, hungry eyes on his body since puberty. It has only grown worse as he’s neared mating age. But those coveting eyes are most often from weak, powerless, unassuming men who want to use his beauty and status to elevate themselves and inflate their own egos.
A man like this Alpha, he needs no aid in elevation. He has no inadequacies to speak of that he would need a young, beautiful mate to make him feel big and powerful. He already is. In any room he steps in, he must surely be the most powerful Alpha there.
“Very, very easily,” the Alpha promises. He leans in, brushing his lips against Steve’s ear as he whispers, “You are more beautiful than ever imagined and more perfect than anyone could dare dream. A single moment spent between your thighs would be a heaven no Alpha is worthy of. I find the rumors wanting, little prince, not you. Words cannot contain the truth of you. Even your scent has no equal.”
He lingers, nuzzling just behind Steve’s ear and breathing him in.
Steve moans helplessly, clutching at the Alpha’s shoulders. Every brush of their skin—even the lightest graze—sets him alight. His head still swims from the Alpha’s scent and it only worsens with the Alpha’s deepening arousal. Steve’s body is a rising inferno of need, the core of him wet and aching. This Alpha is everything he’s ever dreamed of and everything he thought he’d never get the chance to have.
“I like your scent, too,” Steve confesses, bashful in a way he’s never been before. “It makes me dizzy and—and warm, like I’ve had too much wine.”
He tilts his head, exposing his throat, inviting the Alpha to scent him further. The sound the Alpha makes then is almost a purr, deep and long and rumbling.
“You are trying to seduce me,” he comments softly. “You wicked little minx.”
His lips brush Steve’s pulse point. He takes one last, deep breath before lifting his head. His pupils are blown wide, his gaze hooded and hungry as it roams Steve’s face again, but there is still a light to them—still warmth and kindness held within, even in his lust. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, letting his head fall back.
“Oh, to be an oathbreaker,” he sighs.
The Alpha looks down at Steve again, his lips quirking.
“Alas, I am not,” he says, and he sounds genuinely regretful over it. Leaning down, he brushes a featherlight kiss between Steve’s brows. “To bed with you, pup, before I forget that fact.”
He spins them both around, pushing Steve toward his bed.
“Go. Rest. I will stand watch until their search is over.”
The moment they stop touching, Steve goes cold. His skin tightens, goosebumps rippling all over. It’s as if he’s been pushed out into the elements during a winter storm—as if he’s been plunged into an icy lake. He feels the chill down to his bones, and it hurts. Not being touched by the Alpha hurts.
No, it’s more than a simple hurt. Being separated from the Alpha is a torture Steve hadn’t expected. He feels utterly abandoned, even though some part of him knows that the Alpha is only a foot away. He feels rejected, isolated, alone.
It has been only seconds since the Alpha released him, but Steve turns on his heel and launches himself back into the Alpha’s arms. The Alpha catches him easily, cradling his body in his strong arms like Steve is something delicate and precious. The heat of him drives away the cold immediately.
“Pup—”
“Come to bed with me,” Steve whispers, both a plea and a demand. He leans up on his toes, mouthing at the Alpha’s jaw—a coquettish gesture meant to convey submission and helplessness, but one that specifically invites the Alpha to dominate. “Lay with me until you have to go.”
The Alpha groans.
“I can’t,” he protests, but it is soft and weak.
Steve whines, the rejection no better than a shard of ice to his heart.
“You say I could seduce you, yet you will not be seduced,” he says, petulant.
Desperation driving him, he rises upon his toes and wraps his arms around the Alpha’s neck, clumsily kissing him.
“Please,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to get the words out. “Please, Alpha. Please, please.”
He kisses the Alpha again, just as clumsily as before.
For all his fantasies, Steve has never kissed anyone before. He’s known since puberty what he desired in a mate, even if he couldn’t articulate it then. He knew that what he desired, those around him lacked. Even then, he was spoiled enough that he hadn’t wanted to settle for less. Why should he subject himself to a touch that didn’t set him alight? Why should he allow another to kiss him, touch him, mount him if that person couldn’t fulfill him? He would rather remain untouched than be unmoved by a potential lover.
His husband would’ve been his first, if not for this night, this Alpha.
It should be this Alpha, though. He knows that now; the thought of it being anyone else is absurd. What others lacked, this Alpha contains in spades. Steve wants to give this Alpha his every first—thinks, a little hysterically, that he can give his firsts to no one but this Alpha.
The Alpha gives in with a groan, cupping the back of his head to plunder his mouth. He kisses with a ferocity that Steve somehow wasn’t expecting, but one that instantly makes him lightheaded. He can barely keep up, but he finds he doesn’t care. Instead, he gives himself over to the kiss completely, relaxing in the Alpha’s hold.
The Alpha rips his mouth away nearly as quickly as he gave in, panting softly as he stares down at Steve with a little furrow between his brow. He cups Steve’s cheek, caressing him as he searches Steve’s face.
“How many have you seduced into your bed, pup?” He asks after a moment, his voice almost hesitant.
“None, Alpha,” Steve answers truthfully.
The Alpha swallows roughly, his eyes darkening.
“And how many times have you been mounted?”
“None.”
Steve lifts onto his toes again, bestowing another soft, clumsy kiss.
“You are the first to touch me,” he says, unashamed of his inexperience. “You are the first that I have wanted to touch me. You were right, before—I will be mated within the fortnight. I may have my pick of the suitors, but those suitors were not chosen by me or with my happiness in mind. My destiny is an unfulfilling marriage for political gain. But I want to know true desire, Alpha. Just once, I want to know what it is like to be wanted and to want in return. To be touched and kissed and crave more. I have only this one chance to know desire and pleasure as I’ve dreamt it. Will you give it to me or am I to be denied even this?”
The Alpha nips at his bottom lip.
“I would love nothing more than to fulfill your every desire, pup,” he whispers, “but I swore before the ancestors and the gods that I would not touch you. I have already done too much.”
Steve relaxes in his hold, a sweet smile blooming on his lips. Is that the only thing holding the Alpha back?
“You did not,” he promises. “You swore before them that you meant me no harm. That is not the same thing at all—to touch me would only be harm if I did not want it.”
Steve sees it, the moment the Alpha recalls the precise nature of his oath. His gaze darkens once more, pupils blown wide beneath heavy lids.
He kisses Steve again, but slowly this time. Gently. With an air that says he’ll dedicate the night to just this if he has to, the Alpha explores every inch of Steve’s mouth. There isn’t a part of him left untasted and when the Alpha is done, he pulls back for a mere half-second to allow Steve a breath before he does it again. And again. And again.
His hands explore Steve’s body with the same slow precision, finding their way underneath his robe to touch smooth, bare skin. Within minutes, Steve is trembling in his arms, utterly overwhelmed but desperate for more. Overwhelmed, but fearing only that it will stop—that the Alpha’s maddening kisses, his touch, will disappear.
One big, broad hand slips beneath the waistband of his shorts, grabbing his asscheek and squeezing tight. Steve gasps into the Alpha’s mouth. He’s burning hot all over, and yet that touch feels like a brand. He’s sure that if he were to find a mirror, he’d see the Alpha’s handprint lingering on his most intimate parts.
The Alpha’s thick, calloused fingers slip between Steve’s cheeks, where he’s aching and wet.
“You’ll take me, pup?” The Alpha’s voice is a low, hypnotic thing, the words whispered between drugging kisses. “Hm? Is that what you desire? To be stripped down and then made to present for me? To let me mount you? You want to take my cock in this aching little cunt and let me fulfill the need I can smell in your scent?”
Steve jolts, another gasp falling from his lips.
“Yes,” he breathes.
The Alpha pulls his fingers away, drawing his hand out of Steve’s shorts and making him whine with the loss. He brushes his large hands over Steve’s shoulders, gently pushing off his robe as he takes another kiss.
“What else?” The Alpha asks. “What else do you want, hm?”
Steve draws back enough to look him in eye.
“Make it hurt,” he confesses in a whisper. The Alpha goes still. “That is my deepest desire, Alpha. My constant dream. I want to be mounted and I want to ache with it. I want you to be rough with me, to take me as if I were your prize. As if it is your right to have me. I want to be taken as our ancestors would take their mates.”
The Alpha’s scent somehow, impossibly, expands and deepens with each word. It is not simply arousal, there is more lurking beneath its depths now, but Steve can’t yet parse the nuances of it. He doesn’t know what it means, only that it has weight.
The Alpha searches his face again for a long, tense moment and then gently, he takes Steve’s chin between his fingers. His voice is low and even when he speaks, more serious than Steve has heard it so far, each word enunciated.
“You will never, as long as you live, ask this of another stranger,” he says. “Your desires are not shameful, but they are dangerous. Asked of the wrong man and you could be hurt in ways you do not find pleasurable. You will only ever ask this of someone close to you, someone you trust. Not of someone whose name you do not even know. Do you understand, my little prince? You will not do this again.”
Steve nods obediently.
“I understand,” he says, but the solemnity of the words is ruined by the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
He can’t help it; he understands the Alpha’s scent now. The Alpha is angry with him. He should be devastated by this realization—for as true an Omega as he is, he cannot stand the idea that this Alpha would be displeased with him—but instead something precious and delicate flutters in his chest. It isn’t the anger itself that moves him, but the drive behind it; the Alpha is worried about him. The Alpha feels protective of him.
The Alpha’s frown deepens.
“Swear it to me now,” he demands. “Swear before the ancestors that you will not put yourself in danger like this again. Swear that you will only ask this of someone you know.”
Steve lets his smile win. He takes the Alpha’s face between his palms, leaning up to kiss him sweetly.
“I will never ask it of another soul,” he whispers against the Alpha’s lips. “For as long as I live, you will be the only lover I confess my truest desires to. I swear this before all the ancestors and all the gods, old and new, born and unborn.”
“I did not ask that of you.”
“No,” Steve agrees. “But it is what I wanted to give.”
He did not know this would be his vow until the words were out, but he doesn’t regret it. Already, he knows that no lover will ever compare to this Alpha. He can feel the truth in the very marrow of his soul: this Alpha is his true match.
It feels like such a childish, naive thought. A fanciful thing that only a pup would believe in, and in truth, Steve had never believed in true matches before this night. This Alpha and this feeling inside him. The way he feels cold and abandoned when the Alpha stops touching him, even when they’re still near. The way he feels warm and right when he’s held in the Alpha’s embrace.
No one has ever made him feel like this. He’s positive no one else ever will.
Steve steals another kiss.
“I will only ever ask it of you,” he whispers, “but I do ask it of you, my Alpha. Will you fulfill my deepest desires?”
In answer, the Alpha cups his neck in a big, broad hand and pulls him in for his own kiss. It’s just as slow and deep as their second, but this one never truly ends. Through it, Steve is undressed the rest of the way, a big hand tugging at his shorts until they fall to his ankles. That same hand cups his bare thigh and lifts him into the air. He moans into the Alpha’s mouth, wrapping himself around that big, broad body and clinging tight. He’s never felt more like a runt than in this moment, small and delicate in a large Alpha’s embrace, his thighs aching with the stretch of wrapping around the Alpha’s waist.
Through drugging kisses, he’s carried to his bed and laid among the blankets, the Alpha settling over him. He feels even bigger this way—a massive, looming presence over Steve, a dense weight that Steve could never hope to buck off. It should be frightening, but he finds only pleasure in this moment, in this feeling of smallness, the knowledge that he is too weak and little and helpless to best this man.
Perhaps he is weak and little and helpless, and perhaps they do both know it, but this knowledge would never be used against him. It only means the Alpha will take care of him, he just knows it.
The Alpha lifts his head, his gaze warm and hungry as it roams Steve’s face. He caresses Steve’s jaw with his thumb.
“How the Gods of blessed me this night,” he whispers. He leans down to kiss Steve’s nose, his cheeks, his eyelids, between his brows. “You are more perfect than words can describe, my little jewel. A delight to me in every way.”
Steve whines softly, tilting his head, inviting the Alpha’s mouth further down—to his neck. The Alpha groans his pleasure, biting at his throat.
“Do you know what I’m going to do now, pup?” He lifts his head, bestowing the lightest of kisses on Steve’s lips. “Now, I will taste every inch of you. Your body will hold the memory of my mouth for days by the time I’m done with you. I’ll take this adorable little cock into my mouth until you spurt and then I’ll sink my tongue into your virgin cunt and feast until you beg for the torture to end. I’ll make you ache for it, pup, until when I finally release you, it’s nothing but instinct for you to present for me so that I may mount you. You won’t be thinking of what satisfaction I can bring you when you do. No, you’ll already know that everything I do, I do for your pleasure. Your only thought will be what pleasure you can bring me—how you might repay all that I’ve given you. You’ll submit to the pain of my cock not because it’s what you crave, but because you want to please me. When you hurt, pup, it’ll be in the name of my pleasure.”
Steve moans breathlessly, each word setting his belly on fire. The promise in the Alpha’s voice as he paints such a fantasy is nearly enough to make him come untouched. Desperately, Steve drags the Alpha into another kiss.
“Please,” he whispers into it. “Please, Alpha. I want it. I want to hurt for your pleasure. Please, please.”
The Alpha groans, biting his bottom lip.
“Then you better keep quiet, pup,” he warns. “I will not be rushed. I will savor every inch of you for as long as I want. Do not let your cries bring an interruption to your door.”
With that last warning, the Alpha sets about fulfilling his promise—and fulfill it, he does. There is not an inch of Steve left untouched by the Alpha’s lips, not a single patch of skin that isn’t tasted to its fullest. He starts with Steve’s outer extremities, kissing along his arms and legs, his hands and feet, before letting himself be pulled back to Steve’s center, rolling him over to taste his back before finally descending upon his front.
The Alpha’s mouth on his chest is revelation. Steve grasps at the Alpha’s hair, shoving against the Alpha’s face as a hot mouth mercilessly suckles his nipples. He has an arm thrown over his mouth so that he may cry into it, unable to stop his wails of pleasure and instead only able to muffle them. The Alpha isn’t gentle in his suckling, but that only makes it better. The scrape of teeth, the harsh suckling, it makes the pleasure sharper, more potent.
His most intimate parts remain untouched and already, he’s delirious from the Alpha’s ministrations. His body already bears the littered marks of an insistent mouth, the bruises aching wonderfully. Already, this experience is better than any fantasy he’s ever spun for himself.
The Alpha lifts his mouth from an abused nipple, licking the sensitive nub lightly.
“Have you ever had a heat, pup?” He asks, kissing his way to across Steve’s chest to the other nipple.
Steve shakes his head clumsily, lifting his arm only long enough to admit, “No, Alpha. Never.”
The Alpha rumbles nuzzling against Steve’s untouched nipple as his fingers brush and rub and pinch the one his mouth just left. Steve gasps, arching into his touch, biting down on his arm to muffle the cry bubbling in his throat as lightning bolts of pleasure-pain go from his nipple straight to his neglected cock.
“If you ever do,” the Alpha murmurs, “you will produce milk for your Alpha. You were made for it. Your tits crave a mouth on them.”
He leans down, suckling lightly at Steve’s nipple before retreating. He chuckles softly when Steve, whining, tries to bring his head back down, arching his back to shove his chest into the Alpha’s face.
“Look at you,” the Alpha coos. “You love to have an Alpha suckling from you, don’t you, my little prince? You would love to provide milk, wouldn’t you? To have these tits be swollen and full. It hurts if they get too full, did you know that? You would like to hurt like that for your Alpha, too, wouldn’t you? Would you cry, pup? Would you tell Alpha how much it hurts, would you beg for the relief of my mouth?”
Steve whimpers. “Yes,” he confesses, and he means for all of it.
He would love to provide milk for this Alpha, would love to experience the ache of too much milk, would love to cry and beg for his Alpha’s mouth.
He would do anything—anything at all—to experience such a heat with this Alpha.
The Alpha rumbles again, suckling his tit.
“The rare Omega,” he whispers against the abused nub, “is so eager to please his Alpha, he produces milk during the Alpha’s rut, too. I bet it would be you, pup. You’re such a perfect little Omega. You’d provide milk for your Alpha’s rut, I just know it. Such a perfect Omega.”
The Alpha sounds drunk on his own fantasy, groaning softly before he stops talking and just sucks.
When he finally makes it down to the stunted, aching little cock laying against Steve’s belly, he swallows it down without any preamble. Steve has only seconds to experience the throbbing pleasure of a hot mouth on him before he comes with a muffled sob. With each spurt of his orgasm, his body tightens and he feels the deep ache of the bruises left behind by his Alpha’s mouth. The pain leaves him drowning in such intense pleasure that he thinks his orgasm may never end.
He’s still gasping for breath in its aftermath when his thighs are pushed up, exposing the most intimate part of him. His hole is wet, feeling emptier than it ever has before, and with the Alpha’s touch lingering all over, Steve knows that no matter how well he knew his own body, his fingers would not be able to satisfy the deep ache in him this time. The hunger in him could only ever be satisfied by the Alpha between his thighs.
“Gods, the way you smell,” the Alpha groans, leaning down to nose at Steve’s crease. He breathes in deep, making Steve blush.
Before he can voice an embarrassed protest, the Alpha fulfills his last promise: with a soft, hungry growl, he buries his face between Steve’s legs and feasts.
Steve loses all sense of time and space. He loses track of—everything, really. His own name, his rank, where they are and who they are outside of the joining of their bodies. They are floating in a blurring, empty void, alone and adrift in a sea of unending pleasure.
Fingers join the tongue driving him to madness and he comes. He doesn’t even know when he got hard again, or how long he’s been hard. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is his Alpha and the impossibly thick fingers fucking him gently, the pleasure wrung from every atom of his body, the scent of sex and hunger and Alpha and Omega all twining together.
Their scents have mixed, Steve realizes distantly, perhaps an eon after the Alpha first touched him. It is no longer rain-soaked earth and peonies as separate entities, but now the scent of freshly planted flowers after rain.
It’s this realization that drives Steve to begging. Their scents have joined, but they have not.
It is wrong. Somehow, it hurts.
Their scents have joined, their bodies should, too. Their scents have joined, but only Steve’s satisfaction is with it. He has come and come again, but his Alpha has not. He feels so good, his body strung tight on its way to another orgasm, and yet his Alpha is still left unsatisfied.
He can’t abide that. He is an Omega, he aches to please his Alpha. To bring him pleasure.
“Please,” he begs hoarsely, clawing at the Alpha’s shoulders. “Please, Alpha. Please, please—”
The Alpha pulls back, licking gently at Steve’s hole as he removes his fingers.
“What is it, pup?” He coos. “What can I give you?”
The moment he is freed, Steve turns over his knees, bending to press his face and shoulders into the bed. His knees are spread wide, his hips tilted up, exposing himself completely.
Presenting for his Alpha.
“Please,” he says again.
The Alpha groans. Steve hears the rustle of clothing. Belatedly, he remembers that his Alpha stripped him bare, but never undressed himself. He shivers. Somehow, this feels right. He should be laid bare and vulnerable before his Alpha, even if his Alpha isn’t bare for him.
The bed dips. He can’t see his Alpha, but he feels him. The large, looming presence positioned just behind him, the heat of him washing over Steve in waves, a weighted gaze crawling along his spine. He hears the sound of skin on skin—the Alpha touching himself to what he sees.
“You are perfection, my little prince,” the Alpha breathes softly. “Look at you, flushed so prettily all over, presenting like a good little pup. That perfect little cunt aches for me, doesn’t it, gorgeous? I ache for it, too, pup. Mounting you will be the most divine pleasure of my life.”
He leans over Steve, kissing his shoulder.
“You’ve taken my fingers, but it will still hurt,” he promises in a whisper. “Tell me as much if it brings you pleasure, I will happily come to the sound of your cries.”
The Alpha grabs one of his hands, bringing it down to press against his muscled thigh.
“But if it’s too much, you need only tell me to stop or slap my thigh and I will. You are very small, my little prince, and I am no average Alpha. I may be too much for you. Do not endure it if it does not bring you pleasure. I only want to give you what you desire, nothing more. Your pleasure is my pleasure. If you do not enjoy it, neither will I. Do you understand?”
Steve’s heart pounds, his lips trembling though he doesn’t know why. He thinks he might be truly in love with this Alpha, as nonsensical as it seems.
“Yes, Alpha,” he answers.
And then he feels it: a gentle nudge against his wet hole. The Alpha wraps one of those big, broad hands around Steve’s shoulder, guiding him into it as he pushes inside.
Steve shudders and then finds that it isn’t a shudder at all—he’s trembling and he can’t seem to stop. His throat closes around a scream, trapping it until it feels like he’s choking on it. He claws at the bed, gasping for air that’s being pushed from his body with each inch of a long, fat cock.
He sobs.
In all his imaginings, in all his fantasies, he could not have accounted for this. He knew that the stretch would ache, that he would hurt, but he could never have accounted for the pressure. The depth. He is being reshaped, remade. The Alpha is already so deep, but he’s pushing deeper still, each inch of him thicker than the last, stretching Steve to the brink of his sanity.
“It hurts,” he whispers, and his voice is unlike anything he’s heard before: frail and weak, small and timid and wavering, filled with pain and pleasure and wet with tears. He sniffles and only belatedly realizes he’s crying, his eyes burning and his cheeks damp.
He’s never felt so small, so vulnerable. He has also never felt so safe; the Alpha’s large body looms over him, shielding him from the world, engulfing him in delicious heat and strong, capable arms. He is vulnerable and he is protected—exactly as an Omega should be.
The Alpha rumbles deeply, nosing behind his ear.
“I know it does, pup,” he murmurs. “Is it everything you wished for? Does it feel good to hurt for my pleasure, my little jewel?”
Steve whimpers, his lips trembling as more tears spill over. He nods clumsily.
“Yes, Alpha,” he admits in a whisper.
The Alpha groans, the noise so low it’s nearly a growl, his pleasurable palpable.
“Gods, you feel so good,” he whispers, shifting his hips, driving himself deeper. “I was right before. Your cunt is an undeserved heaven, my little jewel, but I will take what you so sweetly offered. Open up, I want more. That’s it, take me deeper. Take it like a good little pup. Hurt for me. That’s a good boy. Such a good, good boy for your Alpha.”
Steve sobs brokenly.
“It hurts,” he whimpers again, delirious, the heat inside him almost too much to bear. “It hurts, Alpha. It’s too big, it’s too—oh, it hurts, it hurts—oh, oh—”
He breaks. No orgasm, no fantasy, no story—no matter how detailed—could have prepared him for this onslaught.
The pleasure throbs through him in agonizing waves. He would scream if only he had the breath for it. With every spurt, his body tightens around the Alpha’s fat cock and when it does, it tinges the edges of his pleasure with the sweetest pain, only deepening it, prolonging it.
His orgasm lasts a lifetime. Every time he thinks it’s starting to wane, another wave hits, drowning him again.
When it finally ebbs, he is not left with the loose-limbed, sleepy satisfaction of previous orgasms. He is only acutely aware that his Alpha is still hard inside him. He has come, but he is not satisfied. He still hungers, but not for his own satisfaction—for his Alpha’s.
He whimpers.
“Is it too much, pup?” The Alpha asks, his voice a delicate, gentle thing, cooing and sweet. “Do you want me to to stop?”
Steve shakes his head desperately.
“No,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with tears, barely audible. “No, Alpha, please. Don’t stop. You promised. You promised, please, please—I want to feel it. Please—”
His words break off with a gasp as the Alpha moves inside of him. He pulls out until only the tip remains inside before nudging deep inside once more, not stopping until all of him is sheathed. He is slow and gentle at first, but as their bodies move together, his grip tightens on Steve’s body. He shifts, pushing Steve deeper into the mattress, his rhythm turning fast and rough.
It’s everything Steve wanted, everything he imagined, and more. He is taken, fucked, claimed. It hurts, the Alpha’s cock too big for comfort, and yet every time the Alpha asks, Steve begs him not to stop. Begs for it to never end. It hurts, and he loves it, craves it, will die without it. His cock is hard again.
They are little more than animals now, driven by nothing but the chase of intense pleasure, the barest and deepest instinct to mate. Tears spill down Steve’s cheeks, his cries echoing throughout the room, accompany the crude slap of skin-on-skin and the Alpha’s grunts of pleasure. He is a vessel for his mate, his pain giving way to his Alpha’s pleasure, and it’s exactly what he wants to be.
“Alpha,” he sobs. “Alpha, Alpha—”
There is a hesitant knock at the door.
Steve doesn’t understand the sound at first. He blinks blearily toward its source, whimpering as he’s fucked mercilessly.
Another knock.
“Your Highness?” A hesitant voice asks. The knob jiggles noisily. “My prince?”
He was told to be quiet, to muffle his sounds of pleasure lest they be interrupted, but in the onslaught of pleasure-pain brought by his first mounting, he lost all semblance of reason. He forgot who he was—who they both were—where they were and what was at stake. He forgot to fear who might overhear.
His cries of pleasure still echo in the room, the Alpha’s grip on him tight and unrelenting as he fucks them both toward orgasm. Steve can’t stop it. Even now that reality has reasserted itself, he can’t stop the broken sobs clawing their way out of his throat as he’s pinned and fucked like an animal.
He remembers who he is now. He is a prince. The beloved Omega runt of his nation, the jewel of his people. He is a prince, and there was an intruder in his palace, and he presented himself to that intruder—a stranger—like a wanton whore, inviting a man whose name he still doesn’t know to mount and hurt and fuck him.
He does not feel ashamed. All he feels is pleasure so intense it nearly blinds him and—with each knock—a deep, all-consuming fear that such pleasure will be taken from him before he is satisfied.
Another knock, another jiggle of the doorknob. “My prince?”
“Go away,” Steve says, sounding hoarse and drunk.
“My prince—”
“Go away,” he cries, grabbing the first thing his fingers land on—his manuscript—and flinging it clumsily toward the door. In a wholly uncharacteristic display of aggression, he snarls, “Do not come in or I will behead you myself.”
They cannot be interrupted. He will die if the Alpha stops; if they are torn apart by circumstance before he has the chance to experience the Alpha’s orgasm.
The other side of the door goes silent.
The Alpha leans over him, chuckling as he nuzzles behind Steve’s ear.
“Fear not, my little jewel,” he croons. “The whole of your army could descend upon this room and it would not stop me from mounting you. I would merely kill them all and take you again.”
Steve turns his head into the Alpha’s kiss, desperate to taste him again.
They fall into pleasure once more, time and space melting away once more until they are only two souls tangled together, two bodies straining for satisfaction.
Another eon might pass before Steve feels it: on a mind-numbingly deep thrust, the Alpha’s cock flares wider where it did not before. Steve cries out, the stretch almost too much. He knows what it is, what it means. His groin goes hot and tight, his balls drawing up. He might come just from the idea alone.
“Yes,” he breathes, pleads, begs. And then again, louder, “Yes, yes—”
His Alpha’s knot. He’s pleased his Alpha. He’s driven him to such pleasure that his knot swells.
“No,” the Alpha barks, his voice harsh for the first time that night. He pants for breath, groaning as he rolls his hips slowly. Softer, he says again, “No, pup. Don’t beg for it. You have no idea how much I want to knot you, but I can’t. This perfect little cunt can barely take my cock, you’ll need to work up to it before you can take a knot. It will hurt too much tonight. Don’t beg, my jewel. I won’t be able to stop if you beg for it.”
Steve reaches back, sliding his hand into the Alpha’s sweat-dampened hair and bringing him closer for another kiss.
“Please,” he whispers into the Alpha’s mouth, his voice raw and aching. “Please, Alpha. It should be you. I don’t care if it hurts. Please knot me. It should be you, it should be your knot. Please, please—”
The Alpha snarls, shifting their bodies until he covers Steve completely, pressing him flat against the mattress. He’s rougher than he has been all night, rutting against Steve’s ass desperately, keeping his cock sheathed as deep as it will go. The base swells.
The Alpha was right—Steve is too small for this. The Alpha’s cock already felt like he was being stretched to his limits and now, the knot demands more of him. Steve goes limp underneath the Alpha, sobbing breathlessly as his hole is forced wider, the pain of it burrowing deep into his core until all he can do is cry his hurt and come.
This time, the orgasm does take his vision. It whites everything out, a roaring in his ears stealing even the sound of his Alpha’s pleasure from him, until for a single perfect moment, he exists in nothingness. He is nothingness. Mere light and atoms, a flowing of stream of pain and pleasure in the mere shape of a body.
Reality reasserts itself in small stages. First, the solidifying of his body, the feel of the bed beneath him, a great, hulking heat against his back, a hurting hole still stretched passed its limits, the most intense pleasure of his life still flowing through him. He feels delirious with it, drunk on it.
He hears his Alpha next, his muffled snarls and labored breath, the pounding of his heart.
Finally, he blinks, and he can see again—and what he finds makes his gut tighten anew. The Alpha is stretched out on top of him, their faces mere inches apart, his teeth buried in the wrist brace against the bed. Blood drips from the corner of his mouth. He groans, the sound as delirious with pleasure as Steve feels, his jaw tightening around its prize as he rolls his hips slowly, fucking his knot impossibly deeper.
Steve shivers, lightheaded.
The Alpha wanted to bite him. Wanted to mate him properly, claim him in truth. He wanted it so badly that he could not stop the bite at all; he could only change where his teeth made their home.
Steve leans forward, licking at the dripping blood. The Alpha grunts, releasing his wrist to take Steve’s mouth in a bloody, claiming kiss.
Knotting brings with it a high—not just for the Alpha, but for the Omega as well. Steve knew this intellectually, but reading about it in stories and textbooks is nothing compared to the true experience of it. The orgasm has done nothing to clear the fog from his mind, that weightless, floating feeling like he’s drifting on pure sensation. In fact, the knotting has only increased it.
It takes a long, long while for the worst of it to fade. When it does, the Alpha repositions their bodies, laying them on their sides and cradling Steve close to his chest. The movement, gentle as it is, makes the knot tug against his abused hole. He whimpers, turning his face into the Alpha’s large arm.
He feels a kiss behind his ear.
“Does it hurt too much?” The Alpha asks gently, brushing his fingers lightly through Steve’s hair.
Steve shakes his head. “I like it,” he whispers, soft and somber.
He feels—preemptively bereft. There is no need for sadness or loneliness yet, not with the Alpha’s heat, his strength, still firmly wrapped around him. But he knows now that the fog of lust and pleasure has cleared that their time is coming towards its end. He has only these last few minutes, just until the Alpha’s knot finally softens.
The Alpha cannot stay. Even if Steve were brave enough to ask, it would be too dangerous. This isn’t just any man—he isn’t a guard in the palace or a commoner from the streets. He is from an entirely different land, of a different people with their different rules and customs. He is, to anyone else, an enemy.
Steve lets his fingers trail up and down the Alpha’s bare arm, cataloging his warmth, his strength. He keeps his nose pressed into the crook of the Alpha’s elbow so that his every breath is nothing but that overwhelming scent of rainsoaked earth. His eyes catch on the Alpha’s wrist, the bite marring it, the blood black in the shadow of their bodies.
“You feel it, too, don’t you?” He whispers, letting his fingers graze the outer edges of the bite. “It isn’t just me?”
The Alpha holds him a little tighter.
“I feel it, too,” he promises, bestowing another kiss behind Steve’s ear. The Alpha lingers there, breathing him in.
“But you cannot stay, and I cannot go with you.”
“If I could, I would steal you away this very night,” the Alpha murmurs. “But to do so would cause a war. Many innocent people would die because of my selfishness.”
Steve nods. He expected that answer. There is a terrible, dark part of him that wishes the Alpha had bitten him, even if it would’ve been without permission. If they were mated, his father would either have to let him go to the Alpha’s homeland, or allow the Alpha to stay. Separating him from his Alpha would mean death to them both otherwise.
With a sigh, Steve brings the Alpha’s arm across his chest, clinging to it.
“Stay until I fall asleep,” he orders quietly.
“Of course.”
They don’t say anything else. As he starts to doze, Steve thinks about asking the Alpha’s name, but decides against it. Perhaps it will be better this way; a clean break. If he knows the Alpha’s name, he will be tempted to find him.
He dreams of sweet kisses dotting his face, his Alpha’s voice promising, “I will be back for you, my little jewel. Wait for me.”
The next morning, the only proof the Alpha was ever there are the bruises on his body, a shirt clutched tightly between Steve’s fingers, and a lingering, earthy scent.
fucking myself isn't enough. i need the weight of someone on top of me, fucking me hard and deep, whining and groaning as they bury their face in my neck while i wrap my legs around them and order them to cum inside me
Prince and his two knights <3 one who happily pins him down and starts touching him, and the other who’s a bit shy until the pretty thing starts begging for him too. Both of them turning their Prince into a pretty little mess <3
As much as I love to be a horny pup and be treated like his slut I also just love being his cute little pup and turn all my thoughts off when he cuddles with me or pats my head. 🐶🐾
honestly one of the hottest things you can say is "do you want me to stop?"
bc if its embarrassing or weird or perverted, i have to confirm it. i like it. i wanna you to keep humiliating me because im a slut. i want you to keep touching me like that because im a no good pervert.
forcemasc but it's roughhousing with your cis best friend after you come out. you have to deal with him teasing you with words like, "c'mon, this is just how boys mess around," and "is that all you've got? hit me like a the man you are," as he straddles your hips and holds your hands down.
he leans down and whispers, "we're just boys being boys. you can take it, right?" he asks, while he deliberately grinds his hips against yours as if trying to provoke you, and it works.
you struggle to escape his hold, but finally manage. you both toss and turn on the floor until you eventually end up on top. you attempt to restrict him in the same way he did to you, pushing your hips down onto his.
he looks up at you with a mischievous grin, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. "there we go..." he mutters as he moves his hips upward slightly.
“that’s my boy.”
nine in the morning btw… what am i doing w my life 🧍🏽.
