Imprinted || Mob!Alpha! Tom Holland || A/B/O/ Dynamic || Chapter Two
WARNINGS: NON-CON/DUB-CON, NSFW, A/B/O DYNAMICS, MENTIONS OF BLOOD, SWEARING, NUDITY, MENTIONS OF MURDER, MENTIONS OF GUNS AND KNIVES, AGGRESSIVE TONES, ETC. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE TRIGGER AND OR OFFEND YOU...
The room rattled as Tom slammed his office door shut with a rough whip of his hand. To say he was mad was an understatement. The Alpha was infuriated. He was blinded by rage. Andâeven though he'd never admit itâhe was scared. It only took an hour for him to have the entire mansion cleared out and every guard on the premises at full attention; no one enters, no one leaves. He needed a moment to compose himself, rationalize his next move. Because, as of right now, all he could think about was killing you, ripping you apart, tying you down, and...fucking you...? Tom shook his head and gritted his teeth. These images of him doing so many dirty things to you flashed through his mind and began to overwhelm him. He wanted to feel your blood on his fingers, but he always wanted to know what your mouth would feel like wrapped around his coâ
"Tom, you alright, mate?" Tom snapped out of his explicit thoughts as Harrison stepped into his office. He nodded his head, his hand over his mouth as he tried to shake the thought of you. "Your girl's waking up," Tom's attention snapped towards Harrison at the mention of you, be he immediately frowned at his words. "Don't call her 'my girl'!" Tom growled and Harrison chuckled. "Of all people, I would've never pinned you as the imprinting type," Harrison chuckled, following Tom out of the room and down the long corridor. "Would you shut up?" Tom said with the roll of his eyes. The thought of Tom being tied to someone for the rest of his life toyed with his nerves in a way he's never experienced before. Ever since he locked eyes with yours by the pool, it's like you were all he could think about. There was this hunger deep within him for you. A lust he couldn't rid of. Usually, when he felt this way, he'd call an escort or a dancer at one of his many bars to tend to his yearning desire. But now, just the thought of any girl, other than you, touching him made him sick to his stomach.
He hated it. Tom has always been a lady's man; bringing a new girl home every other night of the week. His sex drive was definitely high, like most Alphas, but this. This was different. This wasn't just a need for a release. This was an obsession infesting his mind. The need to feel every inch of your body, inside and out. He wanted to hurt you, beat you to nothing but a bloody pulp on the ground, but, at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to stand by your side and protect you with his very being. God, just the thought of another man touching you brought his blood to a boil. He's never been so confused in his life about anything as much as he was now. And as he opened the door to the room that you were in, he knew he'd have to figure out what he was going to do with you quick.
Your eyes fluttered open, but quickly squeezed back shut at the sudden pounding in your head. You felt like you had been struck by a truck. Your body ached and seemingly weighed a million tons. Your neck was sore from dangling for so long and your entire backside tingled in pain, like a sunburn. And then it all started to come back to you. The masquerade. Hitting the glass-like water of the pool. Him...
You picked your head up, moving your hand to touch your throbbing head. But you couldn't. Your wrist was being restrained by something. A rope. Along with your other wrist. You began to panic, trying to move your legs as well, but they followed suit. No, no, no. This was bad, this was very bad. You looked around the dimly lit room, finding Rupert tied down to a wooden chairâsuch as yourselfâto the right of you. He stared down at the floor, blankly. He looked exhausted, beat, hopeless. "Rupert? Rupert, hey! You okay!?" You whispered to him from across the room. He shook his head. "Don't know if you remember me saying it or not, but I strictly instructed you not to get caught, or we'd be fucked," He said, still facing the floor, no emotion in his voice. "Now look at us...We're fucked."
"Rupert, don't say that! I can get us out of here, please justâ"
You were cut off by the sound of a door opening. It was behind you, so you weren't able to see who was there. Your body tensed at the sound of the door closing once again, and footsteps slowly creeping up behind you. You steadied your breathing, not wanting to seem cowardly before them. But your attempt to stand your ground failed as two hands placed themself on each of your shoulders from behind, caressing them slowly and giving them a light squeeze. You jumped at the sudden contact and inhaled sharply. "What's your name, doll?" You recognized his voice and instantly knew you were royally fucked. Tom Holland.
"Please, you can do whatever you want with me. Just please, let him go," You pleaded with the mobster behind you. He let out a breathy chuckle. "Oh, I am going to do whatever I want with you. But, as for your friend," He sighed. You perked up at the sound of him cocking a pistol. "No, doâ"
A loud bang filled your ears, causing them to ring, isolating the world around you. Your eyes widened, but you couldn't bring yourself to look in Rupert's direction. Instead, you turned your head in the opposite direction, biting your bottom lip as you struggled to conceal a whimper deep within your throat. You felt his fingers return to the base of your neck, brushing your hair to one side. His breath fanned across your skin as he brought his lips to your ear. "But, the question is, what do I want to do with you?" He questioned. You watched as he paced around you, stopping in front of you, allowing you to finally meet his gaze. "Pleaseâ"
"Well, first, I think we should go back to my first question," He interrupted your meaningless pleas. Tom knelt before you, bringing himself to eye level with you. He drew his pistol to your cheek, the warmth of the barrel kissing your cold skin sent shivers down your spine. "What's your name?" He repeated. The sound of him cocking the pistol once again snapped you out of your silence. "Y/n," You answered. He smirked and nodded. His pistol found its way back into the holster on his waistband but was followed by him drawing a pocket knife out of his jacket pocket. You inhaled sharply as he traced the tip of the blade down the side of your face, across your jawline, and down to your collarbone. You looked away from him, trying to find some distance between you and the blade.
"I was told killing you wouldn't do me any good," He stated, eyeing the way the knife just barely allowed blood droplets to prickle at your soft skin. "I'd still be stuck feeling this way, even after your long gone." Feeling this way? What did he mean by that? Your eyes snapped back to his, confusion written within them. Tom noticed and frowned. "You don't know...?" He challenged, the gleam in his eyes burned with anger and hatred as he realized his feelings were a one-way street. His eyebrow twitched in frustration. You flinched as he abruptly stood up, the knife leaving your cheek with a slight scratch. "Fuck!" He growled, turning away from you and hanging his head. His hands tangled within his brunette locks, tugging them and brushing them back once more. There was a moment of silence. Tom just stood there, staring at the ground in front of him blankly. You were scared, to say the least. Not only because the man had countless skeletons in his closet or the fact that he was armed, but because you didn't understand what he was implying or what was going on inside his mind.
"What did you mean byâ"
Just the sound of your voice snapped him out of his trance, making him spin on his heels, back towards you. "You know what an imprint is?" He said, already knowing what your question was. Your heart skipped a beat and your blood run cold. Why did he askâNoâHe wasn't trying to sayâno, noâHe didn't...Your lips parted and your brows knitted together as anxiety built within you. Your chest was tight and your throat was dry. You had no words, but you didn't need any. Because, as your mind ran laps around the idea, Tom read you like a book. He lowered his head once again, knowing that you knew where he was getting at. You shook your head slowly, as your lips formed the word no. He met your gaze. Just him watching you formulate voiceless words with your lips caused him to swallow the lust that began to, once again, creep up in the back of his throat. The way your soft, delicate lips moved was enough to send him over the edge. He could feel a rut coming on. Your sweet Omega scent became stronger every second he stood before you; you were intoxicating. You were his newfound drug. And Tom was addicted.
He moved towards you and you jumped at his sudden movements. His teeth gritted as he brought his knife to your restraints. One by one, cutting the ropes and letting them fall to the floor. Not soon after, he had you out of the chair and pressed against the wall. "I don't know what I'm gonna do with you, but I'll be damned if I let some pathetic Omega play games with my mind! So here are your options, doll," His hand, which was once wrapped around your throat, moved to your shoulder and shoved you down to your knees. You coughed as oxygen refilled your lungs and crawled back, hitting the brick wall behind you. Tom tangled his hand within your hair and pulled your head back, forcing you to look up at him.
"You can either be a good little Omega and do as I say, and maybe, just maybe, I'll be gentle," His eyes darkened as he began to unbutton his jeans. Your eyes widened, realizing what was to come. "Or you can fight and run. And I'll break you into the good Omega that I know you can be." His cock sprung free, long and hard. You shook your head and screamed, begging for someoneâanyoneâto come to your rescue. Tom smirked. "I guess you're gonna play hard to get."
"That's okay. I'm good at getting what I want." He placed his knife under your jaw with his free hand, forcing you to stop wiggling around to avoid being stabbed. Your eyes met his and tears began to swell in your eyes. Not of fear or sadness, but of hatred and disgust. He brushed the tip of his cock against your lips, giving you one last chance to submit to his demands. But, as you sealed your lips together and squeezed your eyes close, Tom knew you wouldn't be given in easily. "Very well, doll," He sighed.
He pushed your head back, crashing it against the wall. Your mouth opened in a gasp at the sudden pain and Tom took it as an opening. He shoved his cock to the back of your throat, causing you to gag and your eyes to widen. A moan of pleasure escaped his lips at the sudden warmth. His hips began to thrust back and forth, knowing you wouldn't willingly continue to do all the work. He threw his head back at the burst of pleasure that shot up his shaft and throughout his core. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Like a weight had been lifted from his chest and with it came a wave of euphoria. He moaned at the feeling of your throat clenching around him as you gagged. You placed your hands on either of his thighs, using all of the strength you had to push him away. He dug the knife deeper into your flesh as a warning. So, all you were left to do was cling onto his jeans in pain and discomfort in hopes he's show some mercy. But mercy was long off the table by now, and Tom made good work to make sure you knew that. He pushed your head forward, forcing you to take him deeper. His pace quicked and his thrust deepened. The only sounds in the room consisted of his occasional deep moans and curses of pleasure and your gag and pleas for him to stop.
Tom removed his cock from your mouth, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. He watched your head drop as you gasped for air, stroking himself in awe at what a beautiful mess he had made of you. Saliva drizzled from your mouth, down your chin, and dripped from his cock. His tip was a dark shade of red. Tom had never been a two-pump chump, usually lasting long periods of time with every girl. But you brought a different, foreign type of pleasure. And he couldn't get enough again. "Pleaseâ"
He shoved himself back down your throat, not caring to listen to your pleas for mercy. "Fuck..." He moaned out, loving the way your throat fluttered around him so perfectly. Tom knew he was close, but God he didn't want this to end. It was too perfect. He removed the knife from your jaw and placed his hand against the wall, steadying himself as his knees began to grow weak. "God, just like that..." You hated the way your Omega brain purred at his praises, desiring to please him. You squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to give in to your instincts. But as Tom announced he was close, your body betrayed you and your panties grew damp. You clenched your thighs together, not wanting him to smell your arousal. His hand tightened in your hair and shoved your face down a far as your throat would allow. His thrust fell out of their rhythm and his knees buckled, and before you knew it, he was cumming down your throat. A long, raspy moan fell from his lips and you tried to swallow him down as quickly as possible before you'd eventually drown in it. After a few moments of him twitching and bobbing in your mouth, he finally removed himself from you. You gasped for air and your body finally relaxed from its previous tension. You leaned on your arms for support, feeling weak and exhausted. Tom stared, basking in his own pride at how easily he had put you in your place. A sinister smirk played among his lips.
"Maybe keeping you around won't be as bad as I thought it would..."
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I hope you enjoyed this story!
