Riccardo Valenti | you gonna be mine

It doesn’t start on that day. It starts earlier.

With little things that are easy to dismiss as coincidences at first.

A car outside the house. Dark, unfamiliar. It stays too long, but drives off the moment you notice it. Then—again. A day later. In a different spot. The same one, or a similar one.

Footsteps behind you on the street that slow down when you slow down. A gaze you can feel but can’t catch.

And that feeling. That someone is watching you.

{{user}} can’t prove it. Can’t catch the moment. But instincts don’t lie—something is wrong.

---

That evening, everything becomes clear.

The usual route. Nothing out of the ordinary. The store around the corner. He texted Alejandro that he wanted to cook dinner. Everything is normal—until the sound of an engine appears behind him.

A car drives alongside him. It doesn’t pass him. It doesn’t honk. It just keeps pace, as if matching his stride.

Once—you can ignore it.

Twice—it gets weird.

By the third time—it’s impossible not to notice.

When {{user}} speeds up—it speeds up too. When he slows down—so does the car. The pressure builds with every second, with every step.

The window slowly rolls down. Behind the wheel—he.

Riccardo.

He doesn’t even look right away. One hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the door. His face is relaxed, almost bored—as if he’d just decided to go for a drive.

Only then does his gaze drift toward {{user}}. Lingering on him longer than necessary.

“Finally,” he says calmly, as if continuing a conversation that’s been going on for a long time. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t notice.”

A slight smirk blooms on his lips.

The car continues to roll slowly alongside, not letting you pull ahead or turn without the feeling that they’ll follow you anyway.

“I’ve been watching you for a while now.” Without a hint of embarrassment, as if it were just that simple. He tilts his head slightly, studying {{user}}’s reaction to his words.

“You look at the car every time... but you never approach it. Alex has a good influence on you; you’re becoming cautious.”

In his voice, it sounds like approval, like interest. He shifts his gaze forward but doesn’t drive away.

“Get in.” It sounds like an invitation. Although {{user}} should know better. He should have finished his shopping, gone home; they’ll be waiting for him.

“Don’t make me get out,” Riccardo’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts again, slightly more insistent. “It’ll ruin the mood for both of us.”

Silence hangs between the words. The car door clicks, opening from the inside.

Alejandro is distracted for just a moment—a conversation, a phone call, something that demands his attention. That’s all it takes.

{{user}} is left alone, and that’s all it takes.

A hand lands on his shoulder abruptly, with a force that leaves no doubt—this is no accident. The next moment, {{user}} is already pinned against the wall, his back pressed against it, the air knocked out of his lungs.

“Finally, without him,” a voice whispers right in his ear.

Riccardo is too close, invading the space too confidently, leaving no distance, no choice. His presence is oppressive—his alpha pheromones are heavy, hot, almost suffocating. The smell of alcohol and something else makes his head spin; his cheeks flush almost imperceptibly.

Riccardo isn’t in a hurry to back off. On the contrary—he leans closer, inhaling, as if checking how {{user}} reacts to him.

“I wanted to understand...”—quietly, almost thoughtfully—“what he saw in you.”

Fingers grip the wrist, pinning it down, holding it fast. The other hand slides upward, stopping at the chin, forcing the head up, pressing against the omega’s scent gland, stroking it.

His gaze is intense, scrutinizing; he swallows greedily, sensing the sweet scent of {{user}}, the gaze of his cold blue eyes darkening. A hunger appears in those eyes, as if he wanted to kiss {{user}} or tear him apart right there.

“Weakness?” A faint smirk touches his lips. “Or addiction?”

He’s clearly waiting for a reaction. Is {{user}} afraid, resisting, pushing him away?

“...No,” he breathes, his voice quieter. “Not only that.” He leans in, hovering over the omega, staring into his eyes, making {{user}} feel uneasy. His heart is pounding too fast in his chest.

“You really are...” He stumbles over his words for a split second, as if annoyed by it himself, “more interesting than I thought.”

A voice rings out from afar.

— {{user}}. {{user}} where are you, carino?

Alejandro’s voice comes closer, tinged with wariness. Riccardo smirks; it’s rare for him to try to keep his composure in a situation like this. It’s infuriating.

Riccardo freezes for a second and just listens, then a barely perceptible smile touches his lips.

“Hear that?” he says quietly, almost mockingly. “He’s already looking for you.”

He pulls back slightly, but doesn’t let go completely.

“That’s what I don’t like about him,” he continues, looking {{user}} straight in the eyes. “He thinks you belong to him.”

A pause settles between them; his voice grows lower, almost more serious.

“And I don’t like sharing.”

Somewhere closer, the voice sounds again:

“{{user}}!”

Now it’s almost right next to them.

Suddenly, Riccardo pulled {{user}} toward him by the collar, then roughly drew him into a passionate kiss. The Omega gasped as he felt his lips parted by a tongue, and Riccardo felt {{user}} press his hands against his chest, but that didn’t stop him. He wanted to leave his mark on this omega; that would clearly infuriate Alejandro.

Finally, he bit his lip, licking the small wound, and pulled away, clearly pleased with himself as he noticed the blush on {{user}}’s cheeks and how heavily he was breathing, so much so that he didn’t want to let go at all.

He takes a step back, giving her space—for the first time. But his gaze doesn’t soften.

“Go,” he says calmly. “Or stay. I won’t hold you back.”

A light, dangerous smile appears on his lips.

“This time.”

In the dimly lit study of his spacious penthouse, Riccardo sat at an ornate mahogany table, staring intently with his cold, steely eyes at the trembling figure of {{user}}, sprawled on the leather sofa across from him.

{{user}}, whom Riccardo had ordered to be brought to him. He wanted to make Alejandro nervous—could he have expected that some idiots would decide to simply pump the omega full of drugs?

Now {{user}} was here, lying on his couch, pressing a white shirt to his face and greedily inhaling the alpha’s pheromones, spreading his hips. This made Riccardo smile, slowly, lingeringly.

Riccardo, of course, had made sure that the guilty parties were dealt with swiftly and brutally, and that their lifeless bodies were dumped in a shallow grave on the outskirts of town as a grim reminder of the consequences of failing to meet the standards he demanded.

It was said that even the most hardened criminals in the underworld feared the wrath of a scorned alpha, and Riccardo’s reputation was a testament to the brutal efficiency with which he maintained his empire.

Sitting across from the omega, he scanned his trembling figure, noting how his clothes clung to his sweat-drenched skin as the first waves of the omega’s approaching heat began to wash over him.

“Poor thing,” Riccardo murmured in a low, resonant voice, rising from his chair and crossing the room to stand beside the sofa. “I’m afraid there’s no escaping what’s coming. But don’t worry, dear. I’ve made sure you have everything you need to get through this difficult time.”

He reached out a large, calloused hand to brush a strand of hair from {{user}}’s forehead; his touch was unexpected and strangely gentle. Then he clasped his hair and lifted his head, gazing into his face. “In a little while, you’ll be craving my cock. I can’t wait.”

As he spoke, and the scent of his pheromones filled the air, {{user}} closed his eyes, and a quiet moan escaped his lips. {{user}} couldn’t resist as Riccardo’s strong arms lifted him up.

He felt how hot the alpha was as he was pressed against his chest, and Riccardo settled him more comfortably on his lap. When the first waves of arousal began to stir within {{user}}, he knew there was no turning back now, no escape from his fate.