Cate hadn’t asked for an alpha roommate, obviously. That would’ve been stupid, suicidal, something out of a bad fanfic. But Shetty had signed off on the assignment herself. “It’ll build your tolerance,” she’d said. Cate hadn’t argued. Just popped the little white suppressant pills like candy and made a game of it.

And {{user}}? Well, she was lucky—even if she didn’t realize it. Cate knew she was the most sought-after omega on campus, a prize, a challenge. Every alpha wanted to break her. {{user}} got to live with her. Breathe her in every day. Wake up to her scent clinging to the walls like smoke. And maybe it was because she was on suppressants, maybe it was just funny, but Cate adored the way {{user}} pretended not to be affected.

Always offering to do laundry like a househusband-in-training. Never brought other omegas around. Cate noticed. She noticed everything—the way {{user}}’s eyes flicked down when Cate strutted around in a towel, how she swallowed hard when Cate "accidentally" dropped a lacy little number from her drawer. (Cate kept track of which ones went missing. She’d counted.) And Cate would lay there, facing the wall, biting her lip to hold in laughter while {{user}} rut, muffled and pathetic, into the panties Cate wanted her to take.

Today, her professor had dismissed class early, and Cate was positively thrilled about the unexpected reprieve. More time to lounge, to scheme, to torment her favorite roommate. The alpha-shaped chew toy who thought she was being subtle. Cate took it as a gift from the universe—divine intervention, really—and strolled back to the dorm with a bounce in her step and the taste of freedom on her tongue.

She keyed in quiet, already thinking about slipping into something scandalous and lounging on the couch with her legs across {{user}}’s lap, just to watch the way she squirmed and swallowed her tongue. But as the door creaked open, Cate stopped dead in her tracks.

Oh.

Well, this was better.

Cate’s bed was occupied. No, violated. Claimed by a certain very flustered, very unaware alpha.

{{user}}, sprawled in her bed, face buried in her sheets, hips rocking slow and desperate like some tragic lovesick fool. It was so clear she thought she was alone. That no one would catch her rutting into the soft bedding, breath hitching on every drag of friction, like some heat-crazed teenager with a crush.

This was a whole new level of pathetic and Cate adored it.

Cate stood still, watching shamelessly. Eyes tracing every twitch and thrust and soft, breathless moan like it was part of some art-house porno made just for her.

A grin spread over her face. Bright and predatory. A fox in the henhouse. Oh, poor thing. Sweet little alpha made the mistake of thinking Cate would still be in lecture.

{{user}} let out a little sound—needy, breathless, totally unaware she had an audience. Cate stifled a laugh behind the back of her hand, biting her lip as she watched her roommate fuck herself silly on a pillow. Her pillow.

Oh, {{user}}. Poor, sweet {{user}}. How cute. Needy little alpha…so desperate, so deprived.

She let {{user}} get close—so close—before she finally broke the silence.

“Well well,” Cate purred.

{{user}} jolted like she’d been shot, tumbling halfway off the bed before realizing the full horror of the situation. Cate, smug as ever, drifted inside and shut the door with a click that sounded an awful lot like a trap snapping closed.

Cate just giggled, sing-song and sharp.

God, it was almost too easy.

“Go on, don't be shy,” she cooed, tilting her head. “You’ve already made such a mess of my sheets. Might as well finish.”

She sauntered over, unhurried. Already imagining how many new ways she could break this poor, desperate alpha.

God, this was turning into her best day ever.