#THEY GET ALONG BY THE END OF THE FIC BUT IT'S SO FUNNY ACTUALLY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

angelfic · 6 months ago

Text

— IT’S SO SWEET

pairing: jason todd x best friend!reader

summary: the 3 times jason takes care of you and the 1 time he lets you do the same. alternatively, jason thinks he's invincible, but his best friend needs to be protected at all costs.

warnings: unedited. again. pls don't kill me. swearing, kissing, mentions of blood/weapons/injuries, mentions of periods, reader is a nursing student, best friends to lovers!!! <3

author’s note: *shoves it at you* another one of these fics with the same format, this time with jason :) listen to 'sweet' by cigarettes after sex while reading this btw. and let me know what you think!! drop an ask or a message, don’t be shy!💌

1. when finals are going to kill you.

Sometimes you think being a vigilante like your best friend is worth the constant risk of dying if it means you never have to open another textbook again. When you voice this to Jason, he scowls like you've just threatened to kill a kitten in front of him.

"That's not funny. Don't even joke about that," he scolds, still frowning at you from the opposite end of your kitchen island. His Red Hood suit is sprawled out in front of him as he stitches up a loose hem, compliments of the last goon he most likely beat to a pulp. You make a face at the fact that his sleeve is covering your anatomy notes, ignoring the way he leans down in attempt to catch your eye. He resorts to snapping his fingers in your face. "Hey. Hey, I'm serious."

"Jason," you sigh, setting down your pen and resting your chin on your hand as you talk to him. "I'm studying for nursing school finals in my kitchen, because I didn't want to walk the five more steps it takes to get to my bedroom after making instant ramen. Do you really need me to tell you I'm not being serious about becoming a vigilante?"

His shoulders relax very slightly, but his expression stays annoyed. "You're going to give me an entire head of grey hair before I'm even thirty."

"Well, at least we know it'll suit you," you say through a yawn as you point to the white streak running through his hair. "So, if anything, you're welcome."

He gives you another withering glare, going back to his stitching. The tiny needle in his large hand distracts you for a minute until you realise that Jason has stopped sewing and you're actually staring into nothing now. He notices your eyes that have glossed over and immediately reaches over to slam your textbook shut, startling you back to attention. It isn't until he does this that you feel the exhaustion seeping into your bones, emphasised by the knot in your neck and the cramp in your writing hand.

Jason drags your textbook away from you, along with your notes. You take a second to appreciate how careful he is not to crease the pages, knowing you'd lose your mind. "Okay, you're done for today."

"Huh?" you mumble stupidly, his words registering in your mind too late and you realise he's just hijacked your study material. "Wh- Hey! Give it back, Jay, I have-"

"Finals, I know. Last I checked, you need to be alive to take finals and I don't see that happening unless you take a nap," he says, voice a little too calm for someone who you're about to pounce on and claw at until you get your textbook back. You sluggishly clamber off your stool and step in front of Jason, who immediately raises his arm to hold your textbook out of reach.

You look up at him and attempt an intimidating glare. "Hand over the textbook, Todd."

Jason raises his eyebrows, huffing out an exasperated laugh. "Lift one of your arms to get the book and its yours."

Your finger doesn't so much as twitch, but you sway a little until you reluctantly accept that maybe he's won this one. And maybe a nap does sound pretty good right now, you think with a groan, dropping your head so it rests on Jason's chest. Your arms hang floppily at your sides. "I'll kick your ass after my nap," you mumble into his shirt.

"I'm terrified," he deadpans, and you hear the thud of the textbook on the counter before his large hands come up to grip your waist so he can walk you backwards to your couch, knowing you well enough to anticipate your grumbles if he were to attempt to take you all the way to your bedroom. You smile into his chest.

"You've met your match, Red," you say as dramatically as you can for someone who's practically the equivalent to a sack of potatoes against Jason right now. When you feel the back of your legs hit the couch, you grip onto the bottom of Jason's shirt and tug at the fabric before he can let you go. "You're my human pillow, where do you think you're going?"

Before he can answer, you nudge him onto the couch and he obediently lies down so you can nestle in next to him and plop your head back onto his warm, muscled chest. You blame your exhaustion for your shameless behaviour.

Despite the tiredness, you can't help irritating Jason just a little bit more. "Hey, Jay. What would my vigilante name be?"

"Shut up," he says without any bite, resting his chin on top of your head. You snicker into his shirt, half delirious with fatigue but awake enough to feel his face moving as he smiles when he thinks you're not looking.

"Something cool. Like Nightwing," you mutter sleepily, poking the bear.

"What? Nightwing is not as cool as-" Jason starts incredulously, but cuts himself off. "Whatever. Go to sleep."

You hum, eyelids feeling heavy and you start drifting off, the last thing you register being Jason's fingertip tracing circles on your back.

When you wake up, Jason and his suit are gone, but you have a blanket tucked around you and a box of your favourite cookies on the coffee table.

2. when, apparently, you aren't immune to the streets of gotham.

Considering you live in the most corrupt city in the world, you probably should be a little more cautious about going out at night. It's not like you don't take precautions, though. Like every woman in Gotham, you're loaded with pepper spray every time you leave the house. Unlike every woman in Gotham, you also have multiple vigilantes in your phone with whom you share your location with.

Even then, you aren't stupid enough to step into any alleyways. You wish that were enough to stay out of trouble, but as soon as you realise the streets have completely emptied while you've been distracted with your thoughts, you start panicking a little.

You're fine, you reassure yourself as you slide your phone out your pocket to pull up your recent texts. You keep your screen open just for some reassurance, gripping the sides of your phone tightly when you hear some distant footsteps.

It's only ten more minutes to the convenience store, so you're more irritated than scared when you hear the footsteps quicken behind you, catching up. Your fingers fumble to text an SOS to Jason, but you accidentally tap send on your chat with Dick instead. With slightly shaky hands, you try and send one to Jason as well, hoping it's gone through when your phone is suddenly knocked out of your hand.

"Oh, for the love of-" you hiss, when you hear the cracking noise of your screen against the pavement and you don't risk reaching down to grab it. Instead, you turn around slowly to face a dark figure, clad in a cliche, all-black outfit and stood in a threatening stance. God, you hate Gotham.

"Hand over your-"

"Wallet, money, most prized possession," you cut the man off, probably very stupidly. "I know the drill, hang on."

He falters for a moment before anger clouds his expression and he pulls out a knife before you can get your wallet out. You try not to sigh in relief. For anyone else that might sound crazy, but knives you could manage. Being best friends with Jason Todd means of course you've been made to learn self-defence. Disarming someone with knives was doable enough to learn as a nursing student. Guns, on the other hand, are out of your league.

The fact that you know how to defend yourself doesn't make the knife look any less threatening and sharp, though.

"Hey, look, I'm not gonna be difficult," you say, dropping your voice to a low murmur as though you're trying to coax a cat out of a tree. "I'll give you my money."

"Yeah. Yeah, you do that," he rushes out, sounding confused. You kind of feel bad for him. Most people confronted with a mugger would probably be a lot more scared than you're acting and it's clearly throwing him off his game. You almost regret bothering to send your SOS and as you're thinking about how you're going to apologise to Dick for wasting his time, you go to grab your wallet to try and stall before the mugger becomes violent. "Stop! Put your hands up. I'll grab it myself."

You furrow your brows, about to argue that no, he fucking won't. But you see that the man's face suddenly becomes ten times paler than before and he's looking behind you instead. Your shoulders sag with relief as you spin around to see Nightwing in all his black and blue glory.

"Is there a problem, ma'am?" he lowers his voice an octave and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. He seems to be focusing hard on acting like strangers, because anyone with eyes would see the problem very clearly in the form of a man wielding a knife.

"Please, help me," you respond, drily. Dick raises a brow at your flippant attitude, so you clear your throat, kicking it up a notch. You glance at the man behind you and try to look more terrified than you feel. "Please help me, Mr Nightwing. This guy's got a knife, and he's going to stab me with it."

The man frantically shakes his head, dropping the knife immediately and backing up. "I wasn't! I swear, man, I was just trying to scare her. Look, I'll just-"

"Hey." You hear another familiar voice boom, this time through a modulator. You sigh, lifting your head to see Jason, all the more threatening as Red Hood. His guns are already in either hand by his side and you have to respect the mugger for not passing out where he stands. If you didn't know it was Jason behind that mask, you'd be terrified to death. He tilts his head, evaluating the man. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere, I-"

"Exactly," Jason's warped voice comes out tight, and you hear the cocking of his gun, making you whip around to send a panicked look to Dick. He runs closer to you and you drop your voice to a whisper.

"I've got Hood, you take care of the guy."

"Don't do anything stupid," he says, not unkindly and the two of you snap into action.

You run back over to the mugger and step in front of him, making Jason falter in his movements and lower his gun. His chest rises and falls with deep breaths like he's exercising real control. "Move."

You stay as still as possible, arms splayed out in an attempt to cover the man behind you, despite the fact that Jason definitely possesses the skill to take him out even with you in the way.

"Put your guns away," you hiss when Dick has successfully restrained the man out of earshot and is dragging him away with ease. Jason steps towards them, but you stay in his way, using both hands against his chest to stop him. It's more of a symbolic gesture than anything, since you know you wouldn't be able to budge him an inch even if you threw yourself at him with full force. He stops anyway, looking down at you with his hands gripping his firearms tightly. "He was practically harmless. Let Nightwing deal with him. Please."

You're talking him down, trying to waste time so Dick can leave before Jason is able to do anything. You know you've succeeded when he tucks away his weapons, albeit reluctantly. Dick is too far away with the man now, anyway.

"What the hell were you doing out at this time?" he says, raising his voice instead of the usual quiet, deadly anger he reserves for the people who deserve it. It's how you know he's worried, when he doesn't try and control his temper. "And without dropping me a text first, so I could check on you? You do understand where you live, right?"

"Don't yell at me!" Your voice cracks in the middle of your sentence and you feel your lower lip tremble slightly. Jason stills. You refuse to cry, cursing your damn hormones and the fact you're a woman and the fact that you're cramping again. You aren't in the mood to talk to Red Hood right now. You want Jason. "And turn off your stupid voice thing!"

He obliges quickly, stepping closer to you. You're angry at one less thing now that his voice is back to normal. "I'm sorry for yelling. Please don't be upset with me, I was just worried-"

"You were going to kill that guy."

"Damn straight," he fires back, defensive again.

You glare at him and he has enough sense not to speak further. Shaking your head, you let out a frustrated groan. "He was a lousy mugger. That hardly deserves a bullet through the head."

"Are you forgetting that he had a knife?" he exclaims, throwing his hands up. Suddenly, as though he's remembering something, Jason folds his arms across his chest. "Why'd you call D- Nightwing for help first?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. How about next time, I'll ask the guy with the a knife if he can hold off for a second while I select the right contact number!" you grit out, hit with another wave of cramps, extremely tired of this conversation. "It was an accident, you idiot. I meant to text you first."

You can't see Jason's expression beneath his Red Hood mask and you aren't going to ask him to remove it in the middle of the streets, but you imagine he's mollified with the way his shoulders relax a bit.

Huffing, you walk away to get your phone, gingerly picking it up to inspect the newly made cracks all over. You vaguely register Jason standing over your shoulder before you shove your phone in your pocket, a problem for tomorrow. You turn around to face him and clutch at your lower stomach, breathing turning shallow.

"I was on my way to the convenience store," you explain, gritting your teeth. "I assume you're coming with me now?"

"Why did you need to go so late?" he questions, typically not letting it go. Instead of responding, you screw your eyes shut and puff out a few pained breaths. He immediately grips your shoulders and begins inspecting you. "What? Are you hurt? What happened, did he get you?"

"I have cramps, you ass," you groan, shoving his hands away. He ceases looking for an injury, and you don't need to ask him to remove his mask to know that he's relieved. "I was going to the store so late because I'm out of my sanitary products."

"Oh," Jason says gruffly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice due to his excessive worry. "Well, I kept a whole box of pads and stuff from the other month in my apartment. It's closer, come on."

You sag with relief, dragging your feet to follow him as the two of you walk to his place. You're in his apartment so often that you're not surprised it's stocked up with period products as well as your usual things for when you stay the night. You feel a funny little flip that has nothing to do with cramps when you consider how he kept everything.

"Do you need me to carry you?" Jason asks, completely serious, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I know how bad the cramps can get."

"I took some meds a couple hours ago, they're not the worst yet," you explain, shaking him off and trying not to think about him offering to carry you all the way to his apartment just because you have cramps.

You reach his complex quickly and he sends you up while he enters through the fire escape from a back alley as not to expose Red Hood's living quarters. By the time you've entered through his door, Jason is already there, judging by his helmet sitting on his kitchen counter.

"Be out in a second," he calls from his bedroom and so you flop down on his couch, face down in one of the cushions as you try to think about something other than the sharp needles stabbing your lower belly. He walks out while you're writhing in pain and sets down some pads, two painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table. "Here, take them now and go sleep in the bed. There's some snacks in my nightstand if you get hungry. Do you need me to stay home?"

You reluctantly turn over onto your back and see that he's also holding your fluffy panda hot water bottle. You might combust, there and then. Pouting, you reach out for the panda, grabbing it to hold it close to your body and sighing at the slight pain relief. "I'm okay, you can go back to patrol. Thanks for looking after me, Jaybird."

"It's nothing," he shrugs, turning away to hide the pink flush appearing on his cheeks and grabbing his helmet. He shoves it on quickly and you try not to let out an unattractive snort of laughter. He turns on his voice modulator. "Text me if you need anything."

With that, he slips out of his window, making sure to shut it tightly behind him. You stay on the couch after knocking down a couple of painkillers and try to entertain yourself with some TV while you wait for Jason to come back.

You mournfully scroll through your phone, trying not to cut your fingers on the broken glass. The actual phone seems to be giving up on you as it takes forever to click on one thing to the next. Giving up, you toss it on the table and close your eyes. Making make a mental list in your head of things to do tomorrow, you add buying a new phone to it and prepare to say goodbye to a healthy chunk out of your bank account.

You don't remember dozing off, but your alarm startles you awake and you grab around for it on the nightstand next to you. Turning it off, you decide to brave the world outside the comfy sheets and realise you're in Jason's bed. He must have gotten back late and put you there, you think with a smile, suddenly happier than you were when first waking up. This happy attitude sours a bit when you nick ur finger on the broken glass of your phone screen trying to turn off the rest of your alarms.

Making your way out of his room and following the smell of toaster waffles, you see Jason plating up some breakfast for you. "Morning," you yawn, plopping down on a kitchen stool. "How was patrol?"

"Same old," he says, giving you the usual, non-descriptive answer. For all you know, he could have taken down an entire drug ring single-handedly and you'd be none the wiser. He sets down a plate in front of you, as well as a rectangular box. "Here."

You inspect the box, confused and wanting to focus more on the food before you process what it is and your jaw drops. "Jason Peter Todd. What the hell did you do!"

"Your phone broke," he says, gruffly, clearly trying to downplay the fact that he bought you a brand new smartphone, a later model than the one you already have. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Of course I'm going to make a big deal, Jay," you say, frowning. "I was going to get one myself today. Why did you waste your money on me? How much was it?"

"Don't worry about it," he says flippantly, plating up his own waffles. You should have known better than to ask. There's no way he's taking money from you.

You sigh, shoving your waffles and the phone out of the way to make your way over to him. "Jay," you say softly, grabbing his face in your hands. His eyes widen slightly and you fight the urge to smile. "I can't accept it."

"I said it was nothing," he replies, furrowing his brows and you release his face in favour of hugging him instead. "And it's not a waste if it's on you. You're taking the phone."

"It's everything," your voice comes out muffled by his hoodie. The cost of a phone really is nothing to Jason. It wouldn't have made even the slightest dent to his bank account, but that's not the point. "You need to let me take care of you for once. Oh, one more thing."

He hums in question, resting his chin on your head and wrapping his hands around you.

"If you buy anything for me again, I'm cutting a heart shaped hole in your suit."

Jason huffs out a laugh and you feel the vibration through his chest. "What about the coffee I get you after class every Friday?"

You stay silent.

He snorts, knowing he's got you. He drops a kiss on your head and grins when you look up to frown at him. "That's what I thought."

3. when this guy just won't take a hint.

Jason owes you big time. You've had the longest week of your life and yet here you are, in a floor length, dark red dress and heels, for crying out loud.

Realistically, this is the least you could do for him, showing up to a gala thrown by his father to keep him company. You're more than happy to do this as a favour to him, but that fact doesn't make the heels pinch at your toes any less.

"I haven't worn this dress since high school," you grumble, twisting it around your waist where it fits snugly. You're thankful for the fact that it falls loosely past your waist, or you'd have ripped it from your body by now. "If I eat one thing, it might actually tear."

"I'll give you my jacket when you spot the appetisers," Jason says, absentmindedly. You squeeze his bicep gently in thanks from where your arm is looped in his as he leads you into the venue. "Anyway, we'll be in and out, as always. Just making an appearance for Bruce."

"In and out," you repeat, lowering your voice as the two of you enter a more populated area. You know even though Jason moans about these events, he wouldn't be here if he really didn't want to be. He cares, even though he'd never admit it.

Groups of businessmen, celebrities, entrepreneurs; basically a bunch of rich people who are dressed in clothes that are definitely more expensive than your rent are milling about, every one of them with a drink in their hand. Their unwavering smiles and the constant trips to the bar are nothing new and you wrinkle your nose at the atmosphere of the place. "Do they even know what charity Bruce is throwing this for?"

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Bruce could be throwing this thing for homeless badgers and they'd be none the wiser," he mutters, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. Rolling his neck, he takes a deep breath. "I should go say 'hi' to him, while he's talking to a bunch of people. Prove that I actually showed up. You wanna come?"

You almost agree, not wanting to be left alone, but just before you reluctantly trudge over to a group of Bruce's boring business associates, you thankfully spot Jason's brothers by the bar. "I'll just go hang out with Dick and Tim, is that okay? I can come with though, if you want."

"Nah, go ahead," he says, detangling his arm from yours and giving you a reassuring smile. "Come grab me when they start getting annoying."

"Be nice," you warn, gently shoving him towards the group of men as you make your way to Dick and Tim.

"Hey," Tim greets you with a smile, glancing up quickly before returning to his phone. He does a little double take, eyes snagging on your dress and his smile turns devious. "Well, you look nice. You're wearing a very... nice colour..."

"Tim," you heave a deep sigh. Dick rolls his eyes, but he can't help the corners of his lips quirking up. "You can't keep doing this every time I wear red."

"I'm not doing anything, just making an observation," he shrugs, rocking back and forth on his heels in an attempt to look casual. Tim glances around to see make sure no one is in earshot before lowering his voice. "Hey, totally unrelated, but I heard Jaybird nearly shot a guy for almost mugging you."

"Tim."

"Leave her alone," Dick intervenes before Tim can needle you further. He definitely enjoys it too, but ever the golden boy, he seemingly wants to keep the peace. "How are you doing after that, anyway?"

"Fine," you nod reassuringly. "Thank you, again for showing up, Dick. I really appreciate it."

"Don't be silly, it's-"

"I heard he got you a brand new phone, too," Tim pipes up, cutting his brother off.

"Tim," you groan, thwacking him in the arm with your clutch. He barely flinches. "For the last time, Jason and I are just friends."

Tim opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes dart behind you and he thinks better of it, choosing to just smirk like the troublemaker he is.

"That's good news." You whip around to locate the source of the voice, finding yourself looking at a guy you've never met before. He seems to be around your age, dressed smart and very rich looking. You stand there stupidly.

"For who?" you ask, chuckling nervously.

He shrugs, giving you a charming smile. "Anyone who wants to buy you a drink. May I?"

Understanding dawns on you and you glance at Dick and Tim with wide eyes, feeling a little awkward that they're here for this interaction. Dick keeps his expression carefully neutral as he considers the man, whereas Tim frowns when he meets your eyes, jerking his head as subtly as possible in Jason's direction.

This has you glaring at him and just to prove a point, you plaster on a wide smile of your own and return your attentions to the stranger. "Yes. You may."

The two of you walk closer to the end of the bar and away from the others. You pointedly don't look at them. "What was your name?" you ask the stranger, mostly for the sake of being polite.

"George." A rich guy name, you think to yourself. If Jason were here, you know he'd have a million things to say.

He asks your name and you give it to him as he orders you a drink without actually asking what you want.

"Pretty name," George remarks, handing you a glass of something you've never had before. You pretend to take a sip, smiling in thanks. "So, what's your story?"

You try not to outwardly cringe at the question, sorely regretting tonight's decisions despite the fact you've been here less than half an hour. "I'm just here to keep my friend company." You keep the story short, not bothering to explain how you know the Wayne family.

"Ah, well. I dont blame you for looking so bored. I'm just here because I have to be as well," he mutters, swirling the contents of his glass. "Business connections and such."

"Oh." You find yourself being less and less interested in this conversation. "Do you know what the fundraiser tonight is for?"

"God, no," George laughs, taking a sip of his drink. You try your hardest not to grimace, mentally checked out of the conversation already. "It's always the same shit, anyway. Forget all that. Drink up and we can get out of here."

You nearly choke on your own saliva at his sheer confidence and set down your drink. "I really shouldn't. I'm, uh, I'm okay staying here."

"Aw, come on," he leans in a little closer than you'd like and you try to look as imperceptibly as you can for Dick or Tim, but it seems they've left you to face the consequences of your own actions. Traitors. "You don't look like you're enjoying yourself. What, you don't like me-?"

"Hey." You feel Jason's presence at the same time as hearing his voice. You almost laugh at how relieved you suddenly feel and you and relax into his hold when he places both hands on your waist. Jason drops his voice to a murmur that only you can hear. "Ready to go home?"

You nod, turning to leave. About to bid a quick goodbye to George as not to be rude, you open your mouth but get stopped in your tracks.

"She's fine right here, man," George says, voice as smooth as glass. If the glass is shattered into sharp, pointy spikes that are as uncomfortable as this conversation, that is.

Jason's previously polite smile hardens as his front is now practically plastered against your back. "She can talk for herself."

"She was actually just-"

"She's right here," you interrupt, squirming out of Jason's arms to step back. He drops his hands immediately, but doesn't look at you. Instead, he assesses George through a narrow eyed gaze. You can't decide if George is being brave, or stupid for not cracking under the weight of Jason's intense glare as he stands there, all six foot two of him posing a threatening picture. "Right, well. I'm just going to-"

"Hey, hold on," George says, averting his all-too arrogant gaze back to you and gripping your upper arm, jerking you slightly. You flinch a little when he moves into your personal space. "You aren't going to give me your number?"

His grip doesn't hurt, but it's a world away from gentle and you almost gape at the fact he doesn't seem to be aware of how uninterested you are.

Jason immediately clocks this, stepping forward. "Yeah, I don't fucking think so," he says darkly and then he shoves at George. Hard.

The people nearest to you gasp and titter when they see George careening into the stools at the bar and you slap a hand over your mouth, shocked. Shocked that Jason had actually gotten violent as Jason and not as Red Hood. All over a random creep, no less.

Before George even has the chance to recover from the surprise of Jason's brute force, you pull harshly on Jason's suit jacket, steering him out of the venue and into the hall. He follows you without protest, still breathing heavily.

"What the hell was that?" you hiss, trying to keep your voice quiet, despite being alone out in the entrance hall.

"He grabbed you," Jason says slowly, as if he's confused as to why you're upset. His expression is tight, like he's being careful to control his anger even now that you're away from George. "I would have done a lot fucking worse to him if you hadn't dragged me out of there."

"You cannot go all Red Hood when you're Jason! It's suspicious as hell. Not to mention how you were practically back-hugging me like some sort of reverse bulletproof vest."

"I always do that," Jason says, calmly. The fact that he isn't raising his voice just spurs you on to raise yours higher. The multitude of emotions swirling around in a confused whirl around your stomach makes you nauseous.

"You hate being touchy in public," you say, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. "Last month, you punched Tim in the stomach for putting his arm around your shoulder. Anyway, that's not the point! You're so occupied with trying to take care of everyone that you never consider yourself. Or let anyone else do so. Yeah, that guy was an asshole. But he was just an asshole trying to talk to a single girl. He wasn't some... some crime boss or villain or evil freaking mastermind for you to take down!"

"I don't need looking after. And he didn't know you were single," Jason scoffs, running a hand through his neatly combed hair, mussing it up. If you weren't so irritated, you'd take a moment to appreciate how much you prefer it when he looks like this. Real and raw, like the current expression on his face rather than closed off and emotionless. "You came here on my arm, wearing my colour, like Tim's always fucking going on about. You... you're my..."

"Your what, Jason?" you ask, hysterically. You're almost yelling now, finally ready to snap at Jason's inability to share his thoughts with you. He stays silent, face going blank again, an indication that he's closing himself off to you. Your shoulders sag from exhaustion. "Come talk to me when you can give me an answer. I'm going home, I'll get Dick to give me a ride."

You don't wait for a response as you walk back into the venue. Thankfully, Dick is near the entrance and you don't have to subject yourself to too many stares before he takes you home. You don't glance at Jason on your way out.

4. when he asks for your help.

You're moping. You don't bother trying to deny it, but you're definitely moping around your apartment since your fight with Jason. You wake early every day and get dressed and study, but your movements are almost robotic in nature.

Dick has tried texting you a few times, but you've decided to just avoid looking at your phone, because it's the one Jason bought and it just makes you feel even worse. You aren't sure if Jason's tried contacting you, but your phone stops going off around the same time as Dick's evening patrol and you don't let yourself dwell on it further.

The two of you have never gone this long without speaking and aside from the pit of unease in your stomach as well as the sadness hanging over you like a dark cloud, you're also just bored. You have acquaintances from your nursing course, but no one close enough to do anything with this late at night.

Oh, well, you think to yourself, Chinese food and Grey's Anatomy for the second night in a row it is.

You take a quick shower, standing under the hot water for longer than necessary to let the time pass. Getting out, you change into your second pyjama set of the day, opting for a hoodie when you feel a chill in your room that wasn't there before.

You go to shut your bedroom window with a frown, not remembering why you opened it. The handle is stiff and you internally curse your landlord for��still not fixing it as you finally succeed in shutting the damn thing after a particularly hard tug.

It shouldn't have taken that much energy out of you, but you're panting when you walk out of your bedroom to enter the living room so you can sit in front of the TV and order the takeout that you probably shouldn't be eating.

Before you can even attempt to regulate your breathing, you look up in the direction of your couch to find Jason sitting there in his Red Hood suit and slap a hand over your mouth to smother your shriek.

"Oh my God," you gasp, your free hand flailing out frantically to grasp the door frame in an attempt to steady yourself. The minute it takes for you to catch your breath is enough time to take in the state of the vigilante sitting in the dark of your living room.

You switch the light on and Jason winces at the sudden brightness, but you take the opportunity to give him a thorough once over. His dark hair is disheveled and falling into his eyes from hours of confinement in his helmet and he has a fresh bruise blossoming across his cheekbone.

You hardly ever use the main light, usually opting for a warm-toned lamp instead, so when the main light casts the cuts and scrapes on Jason's body in a harsher light, you want to turn it off even more.

Jason's eyes flutter shut for a second and you immediately rush forward to assess him for any injuries causing major blood loss. "Did you get stabbed?" you ask clinically, your voice void of any emotion. "Are you bleeding under your suit? You need to stay awake-"

"I'm fine," Jason mutters, opening his eyes to peer up at you through tired eyes. "I'm not bleeding or anything. Just wiped out from patrol."

You relax slightly, taking a step back to create some distance between the two of you. "Oh. You snuck through my window to tell me that you're tired?"

"Anyone could have snuck through that damn window," he says, brows furrowing in disapproval. He's been hassling you about the security of your apartment since you can remember and you usually wave him off, but in this moment you bristle.

"You don't get to be annoyed at me right now," you say, crossing your arms and glaring at him through narrowed eyes. "Why are you here, Jason?"

He grimaces at the use of his government name coming from you and takes a deep breath. "I haven't slept."

"So, go home and take a nap," you say, exasperated, letting your hands fall to your side as you're about to turn around and walk back into your room. Before you leave, you hear your Nursing teachers' voices in your head, reprimanding you and you sigh. "And you want to clean those cuts before they get infected."

"Could you do it for me?" Jason asks quietly, barely audible. His jaw clenches with the effort of asking you the question. "Please?"

You blink at him. "But, I- You've never..." you trail off, not knowing what to say. Jason has always refused to let anyone else patch him up after patrol. Hell, he's even learned how to do stitches on himself when you're the one learning how to do them for a living.

"I want... to let you look after me," he whispers, looking at you imploringly like you're going to refuse. Your irritation immediately melts into something else that you don't want to analyse any time soon.

"Oh," you exhale softly, heart twisting unwillingly. You nod slowly, words escaping you again. "Okay."

Jason's head flops back onto the couch cushion and he sighs like all of the tension is leaving his body. His hair covers his eyes, but you don't miss the dark circles under them, contrasting starkly with his skin, pale from exhaustion.

You consider letting him stay there, but you know it'll be easier in the bathroom where you keep all of your first aid supplies and the lighting is better for when you're practicing your techniques. "Come on. Up," you say, gesturing to the bathroom with a jerk of your head and you walk away, allowing him to come in his own time.

While you're digging through your bathroom cabinet for all the supplies you've haphazardly thrown in after using them, Jason slips in and you glance over at him quickly. "Sit down," you mutter, reaching up for the disinfectant. It sits on one of the higher shelves and you have to get on your tiptoes to reach it. Jason instinctively moves to help you but you shoo him away, managing to grasp it yourself. "Sit down."

"Yes, nurse," he huffs out a quiet laugh and you bite back a smile, opting to roll your eyes at him instead. Setting your supplies down behind Jason, you focus your attentions on unzipping his suit. The way his arms are resting limp in his lap tells you that he's not wanting to move anytime soon. You bring the zipper down yourself and pull off each sleeve cautiously, not wanting to rip the suit further where the torn fabric is clinging to the bloody cuts in his skin.

Once the suit is hanging loosely around his waist, you see from the black tank he's wearing that the cuts are localised to his now bare arms from where he's been defensive, whereas the fabric on his chest and abdomen are intact.

Jason's eyes track your face as you assess the extent of his injuries and when you lift your face to look at him, he's unabashed, continuing to look directly into your eyes. Your cheeks warm and you stutter out a sentence "I-I'll be right back, one sec."

You rush out of the bathroom and into your kitchen to pull open the freezer and scramble around for a bag of frozen anything. Settling on a bag of peas that you have no intention of cooking anytime soon, you hurry straight back to the bathroom.

Jason eyes the peas warily and you raise a brow, daring him to challenge you. When he stays silent, you move forward to shove the peas onto his cheek where the bruise is a darker red mark than before. He hisses when the icy bag makes contact with his face, flinching away from it.

"Ouch," he mumbles belatedly, giving you a sheepish smile when your mouth sets in a line. You should probably be gentler with him considering it's the first time he's allowing someone to physically care for him and it's you he's choosing to cross that boundary with. It's not like you want to scare him off so he never asks you again, but you can't help still being annoyed with him after your fight.

You sigh, trying to relax your face into a non-threatening expression. "Sorry. Keep it on your face to stop the swelling."

Jason grasps the bag slowly as you let go, letting his fingers brush over your own. You clear your throat and focus your attentions on the cotton pads, dousing them with disinfectant. Jason looks at you through one open eye, the other obscured by the bag of peas. "You shouldn't be the one apologising," he says, after a beat.

You purse your lips, bringing a cotton pad up to Jason's shoulder. "I know," you say simply before you press the disinfectant into one of the larger cuts, harder than probably necessary. Jason screws his eyes shut and works his jaw, but stays quiet. "Did that hurt?"

Jason shakes his head immediately, letting out a short breath he was holding. "Nope. Felt good actually. Kinda like a cooling effe- Shit," he hisses, tensing his arm. You think that's enough torture for now, instead continuing to gently wipe away the blood and dirt.

"I won't apologise about that one," you say, shrugging. Jason cracks a smile and you find yourself hiding one of your own as you clean off the other, smaller cuts and scrapes that don't need bandaging. "Are you hurt anywhere else? Promise I'll be nicer about it this time."

Jason shakes his head again, so you dispose of the cotton pads and get the band-aids, the only noise in the bathroom being the sound of you rummaging through your supplies. When you spot the choice of band-aids, you grin. "Pick one."

Surveying the two that you hold in your hand, Jason's gaze lingers on the dinosaur patterned band-aid, before flicking his eyes up to yours and raising an eyebrow. He points to the other one. "I'll take the Hello Kitty."

Your grin widens, knowing he's only choosing the pink Hello Kitty band-aid to appease you. You're certainly not going to challenge him about it as you carefully peel off the backing to stick it over his shoulder. Stepping back, you tilt your head to evaluate him and nod. "You look very pretty."

Jason smirks, but the slight blush creeping across the cheek that isn't covered by the frozen peas doesn't fool you. "Pretty enough for you to forgive me for being such an ass?"

"That depends." You take a tentative step towards him, crossing your arms. "Are you going to stop being stupid?"

Jason lowers his arm holding the bag of peas and places it behind him. With both hands, he reaches over to your arms, uncrossing them to bring you forward until you're standing close. He's so impossibly tall in your tiny bathroom that even standing up, you're only eye level with him as he sits on the closed toilet seat.

"I can't promise that I'll never be stupid in front of you again. You kind of have that effect on me," he says, sighing like it's some curse inflicted on him. You thwack his rock-solid arm and he grins. "I can promise I'll let you take care of me from now on, though. And that I'm going to stop lying to you."

"What?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing. You're even more confused when Jason places his hands around your waist to guide you onto his lap, both your legs hanging off one side of him. You raise both eyebrows expectantly, waiting for his answer, but he merely stares at you, smiling. "Jason. When have you lied to- mmph-"

He cuts you off by pressing your lips together in a kiss, one hand still holding yours, intertwining your fingers while the other tilts your chin up so he can kiss you deeper. You're a little slow on the uptake, frozen from shock for a second, but it isn't long until you're kissing him back just as eagerly. You shift in his lap, lifting one of your legs to swing over to his other side until you're straddling him and Jason takes a sharp inhale, sitting up straighter and pulling your body closer to his.

He pulls away for a millisecond, before his lips reattach to your jaw, travelling down to pepper soft kisses down your neck and you let out a noise halfway between a sigh and an embarrassing whimper. Jason groans at the sound, nipping at your neck and you feel like you can't breathe enough air.

He pulls away again to catch his own breath and you take the opportunity to come to your senses and lean back, gently pushing at Jason's chest. You breathe hard, trying to lift your gaze from Jason's swollen lips and he seems to be having a hard time looking away from your own.

"Jason," you say, voice shaky and uneven.

"Mhm?" he hums distractedly, pressing a soft kiss on your jaw before looking at you again.

"You kissed me," you point out, stupidly. "You really, really kissed me."

"I did," Jason murmurs, both hands cupping your face. He swallows, expression going from dazed to nervous before he speaks. "You asked me what you are to me before you left the other night."

You nod slowly, head still reeling from the kiss. Truthfully, you were willing to pretend the conversation never happened if you could go back to being friends again. You missed Jason.

"You're everything to me." Jason's shoulders are relaxed, his face free of tension as he says this. You're so shocked by the fact that he doesn't seem to be in pain as he opens himself up to you, that it takes a minute to process the actual meaning of his words. Your lips part but he shakes his head, continuing to speak. "You're everything. And sometimes I can't even think about that too much, let alone speak it, because I'm scared it'll consume me. I'm scared you'll consume me. The idea of compromising your safety, the idea of you loving me back, all of it. I'm... I was scared."

You lift your hand to place it over Jason's, still resting on your cheek. "That's okay. I can think and speak enough for the both of us," you tease and Jason laughs quietly, his breath tickling the inside of your wrist and sending a shiver down your spine. "You're everything to me as well, by the way. And sometimes all I can think about is loving you. I was just waiting for you to say it first."

Jason smiles and you think the corners of his lips lifting up and his eyes lighting up is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, each time blowing you away like it's the first time you've witnessed it. "Does that mean I lose? Kinda feels like I've won," he tilts his head, pretending to think about it.

"Oh, you've so lost," you furrow your brows in a mockingly serious frown. "And I'll be telling Tim as much."

Jason stills. "Please do not tell me that he bet you fifty dollars I'd confess first as well."

Your jaw drops. "That little bastard was playing both of us?"

You start laughing when Jason lets out an irritated groan, dropping his head onto your shoulder to bury his face in your shirt. You thread your hands in his hair and wrap an arm around his neck. He sighs, half content and half resigned. "I say we don't tell him for as long as we can get away with it. Live in peace for a while."

"We're talking about Tim here," you remind Jason, leaning back to lift his head and look at him. "I wouldn't be surprised if he already knew. And he'd literally never talk to you again if he knew we were hiding it after he finds out."

"I don't care," Jason says, lifting your hand to brush his lips over your knuckles. He leans back to run his eyes over your face, drinking you in like looking at you is a rare occurrence that he doesn't get the opportunity to do much. "You're all I need, anyway."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd scenarios #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fluff #jason todd fic #red hood imagine #jason todd imagines #red hood x reader #red hood x you

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starkwlkr · 9 months ago

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hi loved your Rubi and Charles oneshotes 🥹🥹🥹 it’s the cutest thing ever ,I was wondering if u can make the same with max and Noah or maybe a daughter 😭😭 please 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

little boss | max verstappen

I’ve been wanting to write more for max lately, especially dad fics 😭 so thank you for this request!!

Whenever Noah was in the paddock, Max always made sure he was close by. It didn’t matter if he was doing interviews or in a meeting, he had to be close and the team didn’t mind. Everyone loved Noah, including the fans. During interviews, the little boy would be in his father’s arms playing with the cap on Max’s head or giving him kisses on the cheek resulting in many YouTube compilations of dad Max.

“Did you like the race, Noah?” An interviewer asked the boy, holding a microphone towards him.

Noah looked at his dad as if asking if it was okay to talk. Max gave him a nod. “I liked how the car sounds. It’s loud but I’m not scared.”

“Tell them how the car sounds.” Max said as Noah mimicked the sound of his dad’s car which resulted in various laughs.

“He’s actually my boss. He’s the one that tells me when I’m not going fast enough, when to pit, right?” Max looked at his son.

“You were slow this time . . Like when the race almost ended and you came in and I counted the seconds and it was . . “ he counted on his fingers. “It was five seconds!”

“I took five seconds? I’ll try to be faster next time, okay?” Max played along. “See? He’s my boss.”

“Do I sense a team principal in the making?”

“Watch out, Christian.” Max teased.

Other times when Max had to attend press conferences, drivers noticed how much of a dad max acted. He would often mumble throngs to Noah, who stayed with someone from the Red Bull team.

“You’re such a dad, mate.” Charles chuckled as Max got up from his seat and walked to his son to make sure he was drinking enough water.

“It’s adorable.” Lewis commented.

“I don’t want water, papa.” Noah gave Max the water bottle with a frown.

“Okay, I’ll be over here. Let me know when you want water, okay? Be good.” Max placed a gentle kiss on the boy’s head then walked back to his seat. “What was the question?”

Eventually, Noah did want water so he whispered his dad’s name until Max heard. “Water!” Noah whisper yelled.

“I can get it for you.” Max’s manager told him, but Max had gestured for Noah to come get it so the boy did so. Immediately Noah was greeted by the drivers.

“Hey, little boss man.” Lewis fist bumped the boy. “How’s school? You doing your homework?”

Noah nodded. “I got all the answers right on my test and then papa took me to see a movie and it was so funny.”

“That’s awesome!”

After having a drink of water, Max let Noah sit on his lap as the press conference continued. Towards the end, the boy was half asleep. Max kepts his arms around his little boy as he finally went to sleep. Thankfully the press conference had ended so he walked back to his driver’s room so he and Noah could have a nap together.

The next morning, the hashtag daddy max was trending. The hashtag was filled with screenshots and videos of the press conference. Some people even made memes out of the interaction between Noah and Lewis. It was clear that Max enjoyed being a dad and the whole world loved to see it.

#formula 1 #inbox <3 #f1 x reader #anon #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #mv33 #mv1

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enhafilthandfiction · 9 months ago

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ok hear me out (yall have a bet) imagine mutual masturbation with jake, but the one that cums first has to give the other a head.. regardless of the winner j@ke ends up eating you out

Dumb Games - Jake Sim

A/N : Hello everybodyy I. am. back. (after being dead for like 345 months). Anyways, just wanted to say that I missed you all sm! <3 I hope you are all doing well and ready to enjoy reading this fic! Anon tysm this is such a good idea oml esp with bff!Jake 🤭

Pairing : Bff!Roomie!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings : Kinda pervy and desperate Jake, mutual masturbation, oral (f.rec), dirty talk (bc cmon it's Jake), panty smelling (sry), some fingering and I think that's it :))

Word Count : 1,268 Words

Masterlist

It was a normal day for you, laying in bed, reading, scrolling through Pinterest, studying, until-

"Y/n? What is thisss?" your roommate's tone which echoed through the corridor told you he was up to some mischief. You lift your head up curiously as he stumbles into your room, your expression quickly changing when you notice what he's holding. "Jake!" you yelp, rolling out of bed to chase after him.

"I didn't know you owned a pink dildo" he lets out amazed, looking back at your tired figure which was still running after him. He giggles and escapes to the living room, settling on the couch as you follow.

"Oh and it vibrates too!" he exclaims in awe.

"Yeah, now give it back" you breathe, trying to catch your breath.

"Nah, come get it" he lifts his arms up and you scurry to get your personal object back, climbing on his sitting figure as you reach for it, but his arms were too damn long.

"Jake, please, just give it back" you sigh, giving up. You don't even realise you're pretty much straddling him in the position you're at until you feel his other hand on your arm.

"How about we make a deal?" he asks, a playful smirk on his face. "last person to make themselves cum wins"

You deadpan at him "Are you kidding?" you ask in a simple tone.

"Nope, and the loser has to finish the other off" he adds, looking at you hopefully. "Plus I'll give you this back so you can use it in the meantime" he shakes the pink object in his hands, flicking his brows up and down.

You've always kinda liked Jake, he was funny and unserious and just your type. But he was also the person you pretty much grew up with. You were scared to lose such a friendship so you never actually made a move. This was your chance.

You roll your eyes in faux annoyance "Fine. You're gonna be the one cumming too quick anyways. We'll see how good you can give head." you shrug, giving him a pretty smile "Now give me my damn dildo back"

He laughs and places the plastic dick in your waiting hand, before looking up at you, smoothing his hands down your sides. You looked so pretty like this on him, he couldn't wait to see you pleasuring yourself.

You get off him too soon, finding your place at the other end of the big couch, spreading your legs as you snake a hands between them. "Fuck" he curses under his breath, his already-hardened cock twitching in his uncomfortable pants.

He also leans back on the opposite end of the couch, quickly untying the stings of his sweats and sliding them down impatiently along with his briefs. His cock springs out, the angry red tip already leaking precum.

You bite your lips at the sight of him, wondering how he'd feel inside you. One thing's for sure; that pink plastic dick wasn't half as good.

You get comfortable, rubbing your clit through you shorts. "Show me that pussy" he instructs, slowly stroking his shaft. You blush red, smiling at his impatience. Nevertheless, you lift your hips up and slide the shorts down along with your panties which you knew were soaked.

Jake didn't hesitate to grab the black material, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply. You roll your eyes and sigh at his pervy behaviour. "Jakeee" you whine "That's dirty"

He doesn't seem to care, groaning at your smell and at the sight of you. "Fuck you're glistening" he points out, licking his lips as he speeds up his pace a little. #

You spread your juice around, circling your hole, closing your eyes at the tingling sensation. His lips almost start to draw blood at the way he's biting them, his hand going up and down his cock quicker.

He can't help the way his eyes are fixated on you, watching your expressions and your fingers touching yourself. He knows he's gonna lose the second you put a finger inside yourself, squeezing his base to calm himself down.

You open your eyes to stare at his, as if in a challenging manner, the sounds of your gushing juices fills the room, his curious eyes looking at where you finger yourself.

"Close Jakey?" you ask in a breathy voice which goes straight to his dick.

He breathes in "N-no" he lets out, his shaky voice betraying him. He can't help himself though. You want him to lose, adding another finger to your tight hole and moaning out loud.

He's done for when you purposely moan out his name, sending him into a frenzy, his eyes roll to the back of his head and before he knows it, his hands are drenched in cum.

You sigh at him "I didn't even get to use my dildo" you faux pout when he slowly opens his eyes, recovering from his orgasm.

"You won't need it" he mutters, getting off the couch and making his way to you. He grabs your thighs and positions you so that you're sitting comfortably on the couch. He doesn't waste a second to sink down on his knees, spreading your legs as he takes you in.

"So fucking hot" he whispers under his breath. He's been waiting to taste you for so long. Smelling your panties just made him more impatient. You nod at him when he looks up at you from between your legs and he dives in.

He flattens his tongue and licks up your folds in one go, immediately humming at your taste. He laps up your juices, swirling his tongue around your hole before slightly prodding it in just to tease you. His licks his way up you clit, kitten-licking the little nub sending tingles up your spine.

"Fuck Jake" you breathe out, subconsciously grasping his hair between your fingers. You push his head deeper into you, encouraging him to suck at your clit. He hums at the little tugs on his hair, the pleasurable sting going to his dick.

He licks back to you hole, his nose bumping against your clit, making you whine out. You can't help but close your thighs around his head, engulfing him into you. He brings his hands up to your thighs, keeping them open before he brings one hand to your hole.

You feel like you're going to explode with his finger prodding at your hole and his tongue on your clit, the stimulation becoming too much. "Fuck, fuck r-right there" you moan out, pulling at his hair to ground yourself.

The way he hums against your folds doesn't help, your hips twitching at the feeling. He starts finger fucking you at a quicker pace, his mouth still working on your clit. All it takes is one last suck on your sensitive clit before your squeezing around his finger and tipping your head back in pleasure.

He eagerly licks up your essence before you push his head away due to overstimulation. You catch your breath as he sits up and settles on the couch next to you.

"Hate to admit it but that was one of your best ideas, Sim" you chuckle out, still in a haze.

"I never come up with bad ideas dumbass" he replies, also chilling back into the couch, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

"We should play this dumb game again sometime" you suggest, trying to place a hint.

"Damn you liked it that much didn't you?" he asked giggling

"It's always nice seeing you lose your own game"

Hi again, thankyou for reading to the end :D I hope you enjoyed it !! Have a good day/night and remember that ily! <333

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goldfades · 6 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "STOP IM SO HAPPY UR MAKING PAIGE X WBB MEDIA MANAGER A SERIES BC I SENT IN THE FIRST REQUEST 😽😽😽 fic with paige and reader being out and a little wasted and getting interviewed by fellow college student about their relationship and working together etc. (could end in smut if u like ;)) // inspo: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTL9fH1p1/" (love you nonnie thank you for giving me the idea to make this series, ur the best mwahhhh hope you enjoyed)

─ word count | 1k

─ warnings | so much sexual tension its bad, paige being possessive (in a cutesy way!), interviewer being kinda weird/suggestive, mentions of drinking/getting high, some language, nothing else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | okay so this is kinda part of the manager series (if u guys want it to be) or if u have no idea what it is, thats fine!!!! i wanted to make it a standalone cus it felt better to me that way but whichever you'd like to read it, read it!! idk why that specific tiktok is my roman empire, it's just the way she talks and EVERYTHING makes me physically so like..... obsessed i don't even know, like GODDDDD im so attracted to her

YOUR FEET HAD begun to hurt an hour ago and your entire body felt sore, though you didn't feel very tired though.

You were two and half redbull vodkas in and let's just say you were tipsy; you weren't quite drunk yet but you were definitely on the way. As you stumbled slightly through the sidewalks of the UConn campus, your only guide was Paige's hand on your waist. The combination of the alcohol and Paige's presence made everything seem surreal, like you were walking through a really good dream.

You felt giddy, that was the only way you could describe it. You were drunk, sure but mostly off of Paige's lingering touch. You were excited by it, as if every brush of her fingers against your skin sent a jolt of electricity through your body. The night air was crisp, but you hardly noticed as you leaned into her warmth, reveling in the sensation of her warmth.

Paige's laughter bubbled up beside you was infectious, pulling you deeper. You found yourself laughing along, not entirely sure what was so funny but not exactly caring either. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you in a bubble of tipsy euphoria.

You and Paige leaned against the railing, a cup in her hand as she gazed at you while you spoke about god-knows-what, she wasn't really sure anymore. She was zoned out until she felt a tap on her shoulder, to be met with a pair of new eyes.

Her face contorted into confusion as she sat up, glancing at you then back at the stranger. "Are you Paige and Y/N?"

"Yeah, what's up?" She replied quickly as she straightened up, a forced smile on her face.

He returned the smile gratefully, "I'm a big fan, uh... can we interview you two?" The guy spoke quickly as he glanced back at his friend, who was waving awkwardly.

Paige glanced back at you with a smile of her own as she waited for your approval. You nodded slowly as you glanced back at the guys as you surveyed the surroundings. "Just be chill, okay?"

He nodded as his friend pulled out his phone as he took out his phone and began using it as a microphone. He cleared his throat as he smiled, looking at his friend to start recording.

"Who are here with today?" He spoke as he brought it up to Paige's lips, then yours.

"Paige Bueckers,"

"And uh, Y/N L/N. By the way, she's not drinking alcohol," you added with a smile as Paige laughed.

Paige nodded and gestured to her drink. "I'm drinking a shirley temple, no alcohol."

"Yeah, we don't do that around here." The guy added with a laugh as the two of you glanced at each other, holding in your laughter.

Paige grinned, her tone amused as she played. "Y/N's here to keep in check though,"

"So you guys are actually close, like outside all the sports stuff?" He glanced in between you guys, noticing the close proximity between you.

You shared a knowing look with Paige. "Oh yeah, Paige and I are practically inseparable," you replied with a grin, your voice laced with fondness.

Paige nodded as she gazed at you, a smirk playing on her lips. "Yeah, Y/N's my girl, on and off the court."

You couldn't help but feel warm under her unwavering gaze as you laughed and averted your gaze back to the guy who was watching you two closely.

"As in like, best friend?" He clarified as he looked back at the camera with a laugh.

"What else?" Paige replied with amusement and slight agitation as she finally broke her gaze, a small laugh leaving her lips. "Obviously,"

"How is it like working together though, if you guys are really close? If I had to spend all that time with my best friend, not sure I would make it." The interviewer joked as he glanced back at the camera.

Paige furrowed her eyebrows as she laughed. "It's not bad at all, it's really fun. We hang out a lot, we get to go on trips together and share hotel rooms, it's a blessing."

She glanced back at you with a smile as you nodded slowly, feeling yourself draw closer to her. "Yeah, it is a blessing," that was all you could get out as you watched Paige wet her lips and laugh, turning away slightly.

You were pretty sure that the interviewer had caught on to the obvious tension but you didn't care at this point, you were lost in the moment, captivated by Paige. The interviewer's words seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn closer to her, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement.

"Why do you wear Paige's jersey rather than anyone else's?" He asked, his tone laced with amusement as he watched you zone back in.

Paige's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the guy, clearly getting annoyed by his stupid question. But before she could respond with a less polite answer, you did with a laugh. "I don't only wear her jersey, it was one time and it was because it was her first game back after her injury."

Paige's expression softened as she nodded in agreement, her irritation dissipating. "Yeah, it meant a lot to me to see her wearing my jersey that day."

The interviewer nodded before he glanced back at the camera before to you two again. "Okay, okay. Last question, do you think you could beat me in a 1v1?"

"Absolutely," Paige replied with a laugh as she grabbed your arm and pulled you away, beginning to walk off before the interviewer kept talking.

"Okay bet, whoever wins gets to take Y/N out," he called out, his tone playful as he flashed a smirk toward the camera.

Paige turned around to give him the nastiest glare of all time as she kept walking forward. "I already do that, bro."

You stifled a laugh at Paige's quick retort, her playful possessiveness bringing a warmth to your cheeks. The interviewer's eyes widened in surprise at Paige's response, clearly caught off guard by her boldness as he laughed, turning back to the camera.

You two just walked off as Paige's hand moved down back to your waist as you continued on your way. Despite the slightly heated exchange, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest at Paige's possessiveness.

──── COMMENTS

cam 🎀 | this has to be their hard launch or something cus DAMN😭 ♡ 792

↳ user893492948493 | ngl i can't even deny it anymore and i was the biggest anti paige and y/n person OUT THERE

↳ lily :p | "my girl" 🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

Jake | is it just me or does paige like girls? ♡ 701

↳ ella :) | ????? yeah????

↳ Jake | this is news to me uhh

lovergirl <3 | okay what about sharin hotel rooms now... ♡ 432

ZM | bro why would u say that 😭😭😭 in front of PAIGE BUECKERS 😭😭 ♡ 1.1k

✌🏼💥💁🏻‍♀️ | am i interrupting something... �� ♡ 994

cailey ☀️ | okay who is y/n whats her instagram where does she go who is she is she dating anyone wow shes beautiful ♡ 2k

↳ 💯💯 | everyones collective reaction when they first see y/n

↳ cailey ☀️ | going through a rabbit hole rn brb, she's so pretty what 😭

↳ #1 swiftie 💍 | cailey watch out girl ur on paige's watchlist now....

🤗🤗 | the damn tension in air damn im not even y/n and i feel hot ♡ 118

Thomas W | they are both drunk as hell bro what is up with the laughing 😭 ♡ 1.2k

user83948928932 | bro met y/n l/n and paige bueckers and continued to ask the worst questions of all time ♡ 591

↳ uconn luvr | and paige was good with the comebacks like okayyy baee protect ur girl!!

↳ 💥 bow | they are not dating, can two girls just be friends anymore?

↳ uconn luvr | she literally calls her "my girl" in like the first 2 seconds of the video

Isabelle Reece ✨ | paige was too quick w that reply to just be "best friends" with her 💀 ♡ 903

↳ ur fav aries | bro i know she was smooth with it too like💁🏻‍♀️

y/n's bitch 💙 | idk who i wanna be more y/n or paige ♡ 252

↳ mikey 🤑 | theyre both so hot

↳ 🧚‍♀️ | mike ima have sit you down for this...

↳ taylor! | ohh... thats not...

Chris | shes cooking you respectfully ♡ 1k

i 💙 uconn wbb | if this doesn't prove y/n and paige are together idk what will

♡ 853

────

part 2?? cus i lowk wanna write smut for this now... lmk

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#wcbb x reader #wcbb #ncaaw #uconn huskies #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers #paige buckets #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers fic #ncaa women’s basketball

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steviewashere · 3 months ago

Text

Mmm...thinking about a 5+1 fic of sorts.

Different times that Steve has sat in the driver's seat of his car, pulled down the visor to block the sunlight, and immediately getting smacked in the face by a paper note.

A note from Eddie.

They start out kind of stupid and silly. The first one literally just has a crude drawing of a dick on it with writing: Penis and a tongue-out smiley face. Steve just snorts at it and slips it in his wallet because it's funny and he'll probably look at it later and ask Eddie about it. But not because he wants it to stop. But because it honestly made his day start out a little bit better.

So the notes stick around.

One of them is a silly drawing of Steve as a knight, stick figure with a wood sword. Maybe one is just a simple sketch of a random bird that Eddie saw that morning. There's even one of Garfield with a joint in his mouth—which makes Steve cackle, he even suggests that Eddie gets it tattooed as a joke (to which he takes seriously and actually does.)

But the last one he gets is a super sappy note. Just lines and lines and lines of Eddie hoping that Steve has a good day, that he keeps smiling because that's one of Eddie's favorite features of Steve's. There's little doodled hearts all over the margins. Steve's name is written in the best cursive he thinks he's ever seen. It's practically a love letter.

And, yeah, Steve knew all along that he was tiptoeing a treacherous line between friendship and something more, but this note/letter is a great little first step towards that more he wants.

Though. When he brings it up to Eddie. Eddie gets red faced and realizes, "Oh, shit. That's the wrong paper. Oops." And he reveals the actual note he meant to leave was of some small goblin creature wearing a stupid Family Video vest.

The love letter-note was the one he ended up grabbing and sticking in Steve's car the night before, when he was tipsy and tired and getting a ride home.

So...more of a five silly notes and one sappy one? Not sure, though.

Oh! And Steve keeps all the notes in his wallet :). So that later, when they've confessed to each other and whatnot, Steve can show his eclectic collection of Eddie's notes. And he can just gush over how stupid and adorable and funny they are. It's a not so subtle ask that he gets more notes from Eddie, even the sappy ones. <3

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fic idea

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drabbles-mc · 3 months ago

Text

It's Inevitable

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, language, pining, alcohol

30 Fic Challenge with prompts from This List: rubatosis- the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: i had the most ridiculous about of fun writing this for Bob. i adore him more than words can say 🥰

Bob felt like he had been living in a constant state of disbelief ever since he met you. From the day that the universe, or more specifically Bradley, put him into your orbit, all the events that followed felt like one little surprise after the other. He considered himself infinitely lucky for it.

When he mentioned to Bradley off-hand that they were going to have him stationed in California for a while, long enough for him to justify looking for his own place off-base, he had just been making conversation. They had just been talking about next moves and Bob felt like it was fitting, mentioning that he was going to be looking for a place, maybe even a roommate since it was going to be on relatively short-notice.

“If you’re cool with a roommate, one of my buddies actually kinda needs one,” Bradley mentioned off-hand as they racked up for another pool game at The Hard Deck.

Bob perked up slightly at that. A roommate recommendation from someone he knew seemed preferable than the alternative. He figured that Bradley wouldn’t have brought it up if it was a recipe for disaster.

“Yeah?” Bob tried to sound interested, but not too much so. There were no real guarantees, after all.

Bradley nodded before leaning down to break for the start of the game. “Yeah. Funny because we were just talking about how putting out a Craigslist Ad felt like signing up to be on an episode of a True Crime podcast.”

Bob chuckled at that. “Kind of does, yeah.”

Bradley watched Bob take his shot, not allowing the amusement he was currently feeling to show on his face. “I can introduce you guys. Wanna meet back here Friday? When Trace is done making an example out of you to the newbies?”

There was no malice to Bradley’s statement, so Bob had no problem laughing right along with him. When the laughter died down, Bob agreed to the meetup suggestion. There was a tentative feeling of hopefulness in his chest. After all, if this person was friends with Bradley, how bad could they really be?

~*~

You buried your face in your hands as you shook your head. When Bradley had asked to stop by because he had news for you, you didn’t think he was stopping by to tell you that he had gone out hunting and gathering a new roommate for you. You hadn’t asked him to do that—you hadn’t asked him for anything in regards to your living arrangements, actually. And that’s exactly what you’d told him when he said he’d found you a brand-new roommate.

“I don’t even know this guy.”

Bradley laughed and shrugged as he hopped up to sit on the edge of your kitchen counter. For how comfortable he was, you were surprised that he hadn’t taken the opportunity to move in after your ex moved out. He treated your apartment like it was his own house anyway.

“I know him. That’s not enough for you?”

You shot him a look over your shoulder as you went and grabbed a can of soda from the fridge. “No. It’s not.” You tossed him his own can before getting one for yourself. “You saw what I went through getting the last man out of my apartment—why are you inviting another one in without telling me?”

He laughed as he watched you dramatically swing the refrigerator door shut. “Okay, come on, you can’t compare him to—”

“I can’t compare him to anyone because I haven’t met him.”

“Well if you’d let me get to the end of my story, you would have the solution to that problem.” He paused and waited for you to motion for him to continue before saying, “I told him we’d meet him at The Hard Deck Friday night.”

“I should flatten this can against your skull,” you said with a semi-affectionate roll of your eyes.

There was a long pause, one accompanied by a smirk on Bradley’s face that had no real right to be there. “I’ll pick you up?”

Letting out a deep sigh, you gave in with a nod. Worst case scenario, you wouldn’t walk away from the night with a new roommate but you’d at least get to throw a couple drinks on Bradley’s tab. That was worth a little bit of something.

~*~

Bob was checking the time on his phone, his beer on the bar barely touched. When he’d texted Bradley earlier in the day, everything was still going how it was supposed to, so now he just had to sit there and wait. He could do that.

When he heard the door to the bar open, he turned and looked out of habit. He saw Bradley walk in and he felt his shoulders relax in relief. When he focused enough to see who it was that Bradley had walked in with, though, his relief was almost immediately replaced by confusion. The two of you were talking, laughing as you wove through the other people in the bar, but it still didn’t sink in with Bob that you were the ‘buddy’ who was in need of a roommate. For a moment he was just assuming that you were a girlfriend tagging along that Bradley had failed to mention.

Bob almost got up out of his seat when the two of you stopped in front of him—the only thing that kept him in place was the lingering sense of confusion. He looked back and forth between you and Bradley. He had no chance at guessing what exactly your expression meant, but he’d seen the smug look on Bradley’s face enough times to know that there was something afoot. It wasn’t the time to ask, though. Not in front of you.

“So,” you broke the silence with an easy smile, “I hear that Bradshaw promised you my second bedroom?”

Your comment got a chuckle out of Bob, something to ease the tension a little bit, not that it did anything to quiet the chaos in his head at the moment. It did earn you a shoulder-bump from Bradley, who was shaking his head at you. “I didn’t promise him anything. He said he needed a spot, I said I had a friend who needed a roommate.” He shrugged. “All true.”

You gave a dismissive roll of your eyes before returning your attention to the man sitting on the barstool watching all of this unfold. As you introduced yourself, you wondered if the slightly bewildered expression on his face was a constant one, eyes a little wide behind the lenses of his glasses, nervous smile pulling at his lips.

The three of you made a few minutes of small talk before you ducked out for a moment to answer a phone call from work. Both men watched you as you walked away, and as you were bringing the phone to your ear, Bradley turned to try and pick apart the expression on Bob’s face.

“So?” he asked, leaving it as open-ended as possible.

Bob pried his gaze off you so that he was looking at the man standing next to him instead. He shook his head slightly. “You didn’t say—you made it seem like—” He pushed his glasses up his nose, a nervous habit he had yet to shake.

Bradley laughed. “C’mon, she’s not that bad.”

“I didn’t say she was,” Bob corrected him quietly. “She wouldn’t rather have…you know…”

It was impossible for him not to at least chuckle at the way Bob was skirting around the things that he wanted to say. “She just wants someone who doesn’t make a mess and who pays rent on time. And who won’t eat her leftovers out of the fridge.”

“Last one sounds like you.”

He clapped Bob on the back with a grin. “That’s why I’m not the one moving in.” He paused, and he could see the thoughts going at a mile a minute in Bob’s head. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t think you guys would hit it off.”

Bob wanted to make a comment to the effect of, “That’s kind of what I’m worried about,” but you reappeared before he could.

You plopped down on the stool beside his, giving a quick apology to the both of them. Looking back and forth between them, you wanted to ask what they’d been saying in your absence, but you had a feeling that if you needed to know, Bradley would tell you in the car on the way home.

Moments after you sat down, Penny materialized with a drink for you, and she handed a bottle to Bradley as well. You thanked her, amused that Bradley actually was letting you rack up his tab. Once you took a sip, you turned to Bob.

“So, is this the part where we get to play Twenty Questions?”

He laughed as he shrugged, fingers drumming against his leg. “I guess so.”

You smiled as you nodded. “Alright.” You motioned for Bradley to sit down next to you. “Bradshaw can play referee.”

~*~

Three weeks later the moving truck was parked outside your apartment building and there were boxes piling up in what had previously been a spare room that was sometimes your office, but more often just a place for all of your clean but unfolded laundry to hang out.

Bob was timid those first couple of weeks living together. It was endearing in a way that you hadn’t expected—most of Bradley’s friends from the Navy didn’t seem to be wired like that. Bob was a nice change of pace from it all. Every time he wanted to move or add something somewhere, he always asked, always had that same little nervous smile on his face when he did. You never told him no.

The first month or so of living together was just a big old learning curve. You learned that the two of you ran on different rhythms and schedules. Bob was an early bird, whether that was by choice or necessity you never asked. You were a night owl, though. Always had been. Luckily, you also learned that Bob was a heavy sleeper and that he was quiet in the morning when he was getting ready, so the two of you didn’t infringe upon each other much.

You learned that Bob liked to cook, was good at it even, but still hadn’t mastered how to just cook for one. That was how he learned that you had no problem doing the dishes if he was okay with sharing his food. He never told you no either.

Bob learned that most of your spare time was spent with your nose in a book or a notebook splayed across your lap while you wrote. He only ever asked once what you were writing, and when you gave him the vague answer of, “Stories,” he gave you a smile and a nod and went back to ironing his uniform. You learned that the only times Bob stayed up late was when he was playing videogames with his friends. Most of them were from the Navy, some of them were from back home. You knew which ones were which because his Navy friends had their callsigns in their gamertags—so original of them. That was also how you learned that a good handful of his friends in the Navy weren’t very good at first-person shooter games, which was deeply ironic given their professions.

By the time the third month of living together had come and gone, Bob also learned that he was falling in love with you a little bit. Or a lot. The amount of it didn’t matter, he supposed. None of it was going to help him.

~*~

You enjoyed living with Bob more than you thought you were going to. You had been willing to settle for a roommate that you could at least tolerate. You just needed someone that you could exist in the same space with sometimes when necessary. But after those first couple of weeks, it felt like almost all the time that the two of you were home at the same time was spent in the same space. Or you’d be in the living room while he was in the kitchen. You’d been ready to hole up in your room a little more often, but it never felt like you had to.

Bradley was as incessant as ever, arguing that he now had twice as many reasons to drop by unannounced now that Bob was living with you. You both knew that it was an argument you’d never win, and it wasn’t as though you didn’t enjoy his company too. By the time the first month passed, Bradley had lightened up on his weekly inquiry of, “Is this guy givin’ you any trouble?” You all knew that he never was.

You’d been waiting for the day that the surprised look would fade from Bob’s face whenever you got home, or emerged from your room, but it never did. From surprised, to smiling, to going back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there. Round and round again.

Bob never thought about how many different names he had until the two of you really got comfortable around each other. Most of the time he was Bob, which was what he was used to both on and off the base. That was the status quo.

But every now and then you’d switch it up. Like if he startled you coming home from his early-morning run, or if you didn’t hear him walk into the kitchen from his room. Then you’d call him Robert, in that fake-chastising tone that always had you trying not to laugh. Or sometimes, when he was getting frustrated about something that didn’t really matter too much in the grand scheme of things, you’d hit him with a little pat on the shoulder and a, “Calm down, Lieutenant Floyd.” And in moments like that he could hear it in your voice how long you and Bradley had been friends. If you tried to get his attention more than twice and still didn’t have any luck, that’s when he’d hear a sing-songy callout of Bobby coming from the other side of the apartment. That one always got both of you laughing.

You could’ve called him damn near anything, though, and he would’ve come running. He wondered how long he’d be able to keep his mouth shut about it all.

~*~

The two of you had been living together for six months the first time he put his foot in his mouth about it. His only saving grace, if he could even try to call it that, was that he’d said it to Bradley and not directly to you.

It made Bradley completely miss his shot in their game of pool, but he didn’t even care. He stood upright, pointing at Bob from across the table with his pool stick. “What was that?”

Bob’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. He didn’t need a mirror to know that his face was turning beet red. He could feel the warmth racing up the column of his neck and into his cheeks. “N-nothing. I didn’t—nothing.”

Bradley’s grin was so wide it was a wonder his face didn’t crack clean open. “That was something.” He walked over, paying no mind to the fact that Bob was trying to look at anything but him. “She know? You say anything to her?”

Now it was Bob’s turn to miss his shot. His heart was beating fast enough that he thought it might short-out and stop working. If Rooster was trying to get some eye contact out of him, it certainly did the trick.

“No.” Bob’s answer managed to come out clear and timid all at once.

He leaned back casually against the edge of the pool table. “Why not?”

Bob shook his head, gaze dropping to the floor. “’Cause we’re roommates.”

“So?” Bradley let the look of disbelief on Bob’s face act as a response, and he continued. “You should tell her. Want me to tell her?”

Bob’s eyes popped open so wide that Bradley was shocked they didn’t break the lenses of his glasses. “Please don’t.”

“Want me to do some recon?” He stood upright again, no longer using the pool table for support. “Find out if she’s—”

“No.”

He chuckled, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. None of this was surprising to him, really. He knew it from the second that Bob saw you when the two of them walked into The Hard Deck that day. He was honestly a little surprised that it took this long for Bob to slip up to him about it. The kid looked like a pressure cooker ready to explode.

“She hasn’t dated anyone since you moved in, has she?”

Bob shrugged. “No one that she’s brought around, at least. But she also just broke up with—”

Bradley waved off the sentence before Bob could even finish it. “That was almost eight months ago.” He paused, knowing that he had the answer to the question he was about to ask but it wasn’t going to stop him from asking it. “You’re not seeing anyone else, right?”

The red in his cheeks got a little darker but he didn’t say anything, instead just shaking his head.

“So I’ll ask her,” Bradley said, like that was the only rational response to the evidence laid out before him.

“Don’t ask her.” Bob’s statement was somewhere between an order and a plea, not hitting either note quite right.

Bradley held his hands up in surrender, but the smirk still lingering on his face didn’t make the truce feel too believable. “Alright, fine. I won’t say anything. But, if you change your mind,” he lined up his next shot, “let me know.”

~*~

Bob never brought it up again. Truthfully, he was still kicking himself for letting any of it slip in the first place. He kept waiting for another comment, another question from Bradley. Anytime that he came over to the apartment, Bob felt himself get a little more on-edge. When he could hear the two of you on the phone, he couldn’t stop the way his heart started to beat a little faster. He kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Bradley to open his mouth and say something.

Weeks ticked by with Bob waiting for the other shoe to drop. You’d get home, or hang up the phone, and he’d sit there with bated breath. He’d try to look like he was focusing on his laptop, or the gaming controller in his hand, but he’d be watching you in his peripheral.

And, of course, you never said anything about it. Bradley apparently never said anything about it. For all the buttons that he liked to push, Bob couldn’t deny that he was surprised that his friend was managing to keep his mouth shut about this one. Maybe that was because Bradley had the feeling it was a lost cause. Bob tried not to think about it too much.

He definitely tried not to think about it on nights like tonight, when both of you were camped out together on the sofa. The original plan hadn’t really been for the two of you to watch a movie together—Bob had gotten home later than usual and you were already about ten minutes into the film when he walked through the door. He’d had every intention of just showering and going to bed, but when he saw you curled up on the couch, throw blanket across you and an oversized bowl of popcorn in your lap, suddenly sleep didn’t seem like such a big deal.

He’d leaned over the back of the couch, a smile stretching across his face as he said, “Gonna share that or should I make another bag?”

You yelped in surprise, nearly tossing the bowl full of popcorn in the process. “Robert!” You laughed, hand resting over your heart like that would get it to slow down. “You can’t do that when there is a serial killer on the screen.”

He cracked a grin. “Sorry.”

You held the bowl up for him to reach easier. “I will share though, despite your entrance.”

He’d grabbed a couple pieces of popcorn before walking off towards his room. “I’m just gonna get changed.”

“Okay.” You tossed a piece of popcorn up in the air and caught it in your mouth. “Hurry up before someone else dies.”

Now here you were, the only thing separating the two of you was the bowl of popcorn between you. Bob was paying enough attention to the movie to know what was going on, but he’d be lying if he tried to say that most of his attention was still going to you. Something about the fact that you’d chosen to put on a scary movie and yet you still seemed shocked every time something scary happened.

Like you were reading his thoughts, you spoke up as you half-covered your eyes. “I don’t know why I do this to myself.”

He chuckled. “We can put something else on.”

You shook your head. “No, no. I’m committed now. I need to know what happens.”

His smile grew a little wider, the rapid beat of his heart having nothing to do with what was happening on-screen. “Want me to tell you what happens?”

You looked over at him. “You’ve seen this before?”

He shook his head. “No, but I can probably still tell you what happens.”

You rolled your eyes but you were still smiling, still blocking part of your view of the television on purpose like that would stop the things on screen from happening. “Very funny.”

“I think—”

Whatever he was going to say next got lost somewhere between his brain and his lips because you were placing the bowl of popcorn in his lap and scooting closer to him. You leaned so that your head was resting against the outside of his arm, throw blanket pulled up to your chin. Your legs were pulled up onto the couch, half-curled underneath you as you situated yourself against him. There was no hesitation in any move that you made, and Bob was trying to figure out if he was dreaming, and if he wasn’t he was trying to figure out how to not spontaneously combust.

“If this gets any worse,” you said, looking up at him for a moment, “then I’ll ask for your predictions.”

He was glad it was dark enough in the living room so that you couldn’t see how red his face was. All you could really see was him nodding, the reflection of the television on his lenses. “O-okay.”

The two of you managed to make it to the end of the movie, but you were practically curled so far into him that Bob thought you were just going to melt right into his arm. He didn’t mind it—he wished that the movie had dragged on for a little longer.

When the credits started to roll, you let out a deep sigh of relief but you didn’t peel yourself away from him. Bob couldn’t help but to let out a quiet laugh. “This why I’ve never seen you watch a scary movie before?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Like, twice a year I try to convince myself that I don’t get that scared.”

“It’s working real good, then,” he joked.

You laughed, blanket still pulled up over your shoulders. “I’d say so.”

He reached for the controller. “Want me to put something less scary on?”

You nodded, reaching out of you blanket cocoon to grab a handful of popcorn. “Yes please.”

He was expecting you to pull away once there was a comedy safely playing on-screen. He waited for the warmth of you and the blanket you were buried under to disappear. But it didn’t. You stayed there just like that, casually stealing one handful of popcorn at a time till there was nothing but kernels left.

You made it halfway through the next film before you looked up at him again and said, “You’re up way past your bedtime.”

He laughed softly and shook his head. “I’ll be fine.”

Just as he finished saying that, he yawned. You smiled. “You sure about that?”

He felt his face heat up. “I’m good.”

“Slumber party rules, you know. First one to fall asleep gets it.”

He felt himself melting back into the couch cushions a little more, body finally starting to relax more from tiredness than anything else. “What’s the punishment? Sharpie mustache?”

You laughed, resituating against him as you did. “No, no. That’d be too mean—can’t have you walking around looking like Bradshaw.”

~*~

When you woke up in the morning, you were still on the couch. Alone. You had a pillow propped nicely underneath your head and rather than the throw blanket that you’d been using during the movie, you had a real comforter draped over you. It took a moment for you to put it all together.

You got yourself half upright, propped up on your elbows. Through half-open lids you looked around the apartment, the kitchen and the living room. You could see that it was empty but even so you called out a groggy, raspy, “Bob?”

When you were met with silence, you fell back against the couch again. Dragging your hands across your eyes, you tried to wake yourself up a little more. You stared up at the ceiling, watching lights and shadows fly across it as cars drove by your building. People who were up and about much earlier than you.

You weren’t sure how much time you’d spent simply lying there debating whether or not you wanted to get off the couch and attempt to salvage what was left of your morning. Just as you were getting ready to peel the blanket off you when you heard the sound of keys in the lock on your apartment door.

For a moment you about to sit upright, but then you could hear how quietly and slowly he was trying to enter the apartment. All those mornings sneaking in quietly after his runs so he didn’t wake you, and this was the first time you were not only awake, but ready for it. You heard him toe off his shoes, heard the rustling of a bag that you were desperately hoping had donuts or bagels inside of it.

You were so busy being excited by the sound of iced coffee rattling against its cup that you almost missed the sound of Bob murmuring to himself. You couldn’t quiet make out what he was saying exactly, only that he was whispering to himself as he set things down on the counter. Waiting a moment, you strained your ear in hopes to get a better idea of what he was saying.

When he stopped talking altogether, you sat upright. His back was to you as he pulled the drinks from the tray they were in, opened up the bag of pastries he’d grabbed. You smiled at the sight of him, a warm flutter in your chest.

“Got enough to share?” you piped up.

For once it was Bob’s turn to flinch, to spin on his heel in shock. His eyes were wide, paper bag clutched tightly in his hand. He was certain that if his life had been a cartoon you would’ve seen the outline of his heart beating in his chest.

“Um, yeah.” He nodded, holding up one of the coffees as though to prove he was telling the truth. “Yours.”

Standing up off the couch, you kept the blanket wrapped around you like the most oversized shawl you’d ever seen as you padded over to where he was standing in the kitchen. Reaching out, you took the iced coffee from him, a smile on your face as you took a sip. It was impossible to miss the way that Bob was looking at you, looking like he had something to say. You waited for it, but it never came.

“Rehearsing lines?” you asked casually as you reached for the bag he was holding.

It seemed to snap him out of the trance he was in. “What?”

You pulled out one of the donuts in the bag. “When you came in,” you took a bite, “thought I heard you talking.”

His eyes widened a little bit, cheeks starting to flush pink. “Oh.”

You smiled, tilting your head. “What?”

He picked up his own cup of coffee. He stared at it for a moment, swirling it around to buy himself a few extra seconds. His heart was beating so hard that he was expecting it to cause ripples in the coffee he was holding.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat, looking you in the eyes, “yeah.”

You set your coffee down, suddenly feeling a little foolish with the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “You okay?”

He nodded. “I’m okay.”

Your smile was soft, warm. “You sure? Looking a little wistful over there.” You saw the way a few sentences started and died on the tip of his tongue. Your lips started to dip down into a frown. “Bob?”

“I really, uh, I really like…living here with you.”

Something akin to relief was creeping its way across your chest and you allowed yourself a small smile. “I like you living here.” You tilted your head slightly. “Why do you look so worried about that?”

He managed a chuckle of sort. “Because,” with each word he tried to get out, he felt like his heart was going to beat clean out of his chest, like his ribs weren’t strong enough to keep it in place, “I don’t want that to change.”

“Why would it?”

“I love you,” he blurted out. “I…I love you.” The blush on his face darkened and he gave a weak smile. “That’s not how I rehearsed it.”

You let out a laugh, one that was choked with emotion. It felt impossible to get the words out that you wanted, like they were all getting stuck in the back of your throat. You could see it on Bob’s face that he was trying to come up with the next thing to say.

Before either of you could implode, you collapsed the distance between you and kissed him. The blanket that had been around your shoulders fell to the floor as your lips caught his. There was a split second of hesitation, but once Bob realized that it was real, that this was all happening, he wrapped his arms around you. His hands splayed across your back, pinning you tight to him.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, leaning into him until he was snug between you and the counter behind him. Bob soaked it is, the way it felt to have the warmth of your body pressed against his. He was certain that this would be the time you’d hear his racing heartbeat, be able to feel it since you were so close. For once he hoped that you would.

You pulled away, just enough to be able to get a good look at his face. He brought one hand up to fix his glasses, the other staying on the small of your back. You toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck as you tried to commit everything about how he looked in that moment to memory.

“I love you too,” you said, voice soft when you finally had it in you to string the words together.

You saw the smile on his face and then you felt it as he kissed you again. It was all laughter and soft touches and wandering hands. Months of bottled up feelings starting to reach the surface. With your palm resting against his chest, you could feel the speed of his heartbeat, but he didn’t seem nervous now. For a moment you were surprised to find that you weren’t nervous either. Then you felt the pad of his thumb against your cheek as he pulled you in for another kiss and you finally felt like you were home. And there was nothing more comforting than that.

(divider by @firefly-graphics)

Top Gun Maverick Taglist: @garbinge @proceduralpassion @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of taglists please let me know!)

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun: maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob floyd #robert floyd #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd fanfiction #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader #x reader #x reader fic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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dcxdpdabbles · 11 months ago

Text

DCxDP Fic idea: What's the Rule again?

It starts with Wes Weston accidentally banishing Danny from his haunt. He didn't mean to, and he panicked along side Sam and Tucker when Danny was effectively evicted Danny from Amity Park.

See the four have become tight-knited friends every since the trio started talking to Wes back during the summer between freshman and sophomore year.

During that time, Wes's other friends had drifted apart once Wes' attention moved from basketball to ghosts- specifically Phantom. Danny had felt at fault that he was left a loner because of his secret identity and had invited Wes to sit with them at the Nasty Burger the second week of Summer break.

Wes was suprise to find out that Sam, Tucker and Danny were much better friends then the ones he hanged out with since third grade. He was used to people only speaking to him in class or the few times they hang out on breaks but the trio would message him about every single thought or meme they had. They could laugh togther until tears fell from thier eyes and they couldn't breath over the silliest of topics.

Wes also found out that the trio was supportive of all their interests. Sure, his old teammates and friends didn't make fun of him for crocheting or painting, but they wouldn't accompany him to an art market. Nor would they actually wear the scarves and gloves he made them.

They sure as hell didn't volunteer to help him run a booth to sell his own crocheting pieces after encouraging him to get a table. And they wouldn't cheer loudly when he made his first sale.

Wes also wouldn't have happily gone with them to an observatory, a Dark Poem Night, or even a tech expo. But he found that he had the time of his life watching Danny, Sam, and Tucker nerd out at the events much as much as he did at his own.

He also never had anyone he knew would be down to do him favors or even take notes for him when he was out sick.

So he became close friends with them, passing sophomore year with far more enjoyment than any other grade, then Junior year came and went just as fast and as fun. It was their last summer as high school students, so Wes wanted to do as many new activities as the four could together before Senior year.

Who knew what would happen to their little group after graduation? He wants to think they would all remain best friends but he's heard so many stories of people drifting apart that Wes was afraid of risking it.

That's why he researched urban myths and legends around the world regarding ghosts- more then any research paper he's ever done- and jokingly asked Danny to partake in some of them as a halfa.

They joked and laughed- throwing salt in a circle around Danny, lighting a candle for him to use Morse code with- but it wasn't until Wes got to the one where he tried smoking Danny out with a banishing spell he found in an old book that things turned from funny to horrible.

It worked

Danny was flung from his haunt- effectively banishing him from the area he was haunting. Dann just happens to be haunting all of Amity Park, so he ends up on the outskirts of town, unable to cross the invisible line.

Wes practically choked on his tears as he apologized for Danny not being able to cross back in, but the other three quickly informed him that they, too, took part in it, and it was no one's fault. Danny just had to find a way to reverse the banishing spell.

The only problem was that the book pages Wes found online were only on the banish spell itself and nothing else. He couldn't even find the whole book since it belonged in a private family library.

The family library was located in the most dangerous city in America. Gotham.

The library also belongs to a very wealthy family that had recently all but perished except for their lone heir- Timothy Drake.

Now Wes attempted to contact Timothy Drake in hopes of having the other teenager send him copies of the book, but he never got a reply. He thinks it was due to not explaining why he needed the book and ending up sounding like a bot or a scam.

With each passing day of Drake not responding Danny's situation grew worse. Jazz luckily covered for them, claiming to have signed Danny up for some camp so his parents wouldn't think he was missing.

That would only work until school started, which was a time limit that was weighing on all their shoulders as they tried to find a counterspell.

Jazz, Tucker, Sam, and Wes each took turns driving out of town to bring him food and a change of clothes so Danny could figure out his situation, having to do it in shifts to not alert any of their parents.

However, without his haunt to pick up natural exoplasm, Danny was growing weaker and weaker by the day, looking half stave out in the little motel room Sam rented for him as they tried to get him back into the town.

Danny needed to either make his way back to his haunt or go somewhere that was so infected with ectoplasm that it actually felt cursed.

Tucker found the solution to all their problems with a few hacking skills that he learned to fight off Technus' invasive attempts of his personal tech.

"A full ride to Gotham Academy?" Wes' mom gasped staring at the acceptance letter her son eagerly showed her. "With a promised full ride to any university in America?!"

"Yeah, Tucker, Sam, Danny, and I all got accepted for our work on clean energy generators. We sent it in for the Wayne scholarship, and we won! The only thing is that it's a requirement to graduate from high school in Gotham. I have to go!" Wes gasped, eyeing both his dad's and Kyle's doubtful frowns. He couldn't afford for them to say no when Tucker had worked so hard to bump them up as Winners. Bruce Wayne's computer security is no joke. "This is the once in a life time opportunity!"

"But where would you live?" His dad asks, shaking the letter. "Wes, this is clear across states, and it only covers school expenses."

"Sam's parents bought her a house. She's going to rent us some of the extra rooms." It was a lie; her parents would never let four boys- especially these boys- rent from their daughter. She told them that the school provided co-dorm rooms "I can get a job at the local library- I already sent them my resume and got a call for a interview."

"What will you do for food?" Kyle asks. "We both know you can't cook."

"I can't, but Danny does. He's amazing in the kitchen."

Here, his parents share a loaded look. "So you'll be living with the Fenton boy....."

"Well. Yeah? I already said that?" He returns, confused, and Kuule coughs to cover a laugh. Confused he stares at his older brother, who quirks a grin at him.

"Don't worry about it." Kyle laughs, but his wiggling eyebrows tell Wes he should worry a lot about it. He would inisit a little more to find out what Kyle knew, but he needed to convince his parents more.

Eventually, after five days of attempting, Wes got their permission and could tell his friends, who all shared the same results. The remainder of the summer is spent preparing for their move- finding the house, getting it furnished, packing their things, transferring schools- it's a lot, and he's never been so grateful for Sam's wealth.

She hires people to get it all done for her-including hiring a trailer to take their four cars-, so he only has to worry about his packing. The four meet up at the airport on the day they live, flying first class thanks to Sam's grandmother.

Tearful goodbyes and good luck from their families leave them all a bit down but they board the plane and take off without too much trouble.

While on the plane, Sam turns to the boys. "Does everyone remember the phases of the plan?"

"Phase one: Blend into Gotham until we find Timothy Drake" Tucker states, pushing up his glasses

"Phase two: Get Drake to invite us over to his house and find the book," Danny tacks on, tapping his foot on the ground.

"Phase three: Find all the pieces for the counterspell- usually scattered around the magical family's ancestral home- and get Danny home!" Wes shouts, raising a fist in the air.

Sam nods, looking satisfied. "And what are we not allowed to do? Danny?"

"Become a vigilante when my ectoplasm is on a limited intake" Danny grumbles, sinking into his chair. "Let it to the Bats and keep my head low."

"Good. Tucker?"

"I'm not allowed to hack into anything because it can gain the attention of the Bats or Mr.Wayne, and then we'll be on a wanted list" Tucker sighs "No matter how much fun it would be to battle it out with the legendary Oracle."

"That's right. I'm not allowed to go anywhere near Poison Ivy no matter how much I want to yell at her to go fix the coal riffs and cut down forests instead of wasting her powers on the stupid heist." Same all but bites, and then she turns her attention to Wes, who startles.

"Wes?"

"Wait, I have a rule?"

"Course, man," Tucker laughs. "We all have rules."

"But I'm not interesrted in anything in Gotham besides the Drake grimoire!"

"Wes," Danny says gently, his soft baby blue eyes making him a little hot under the collar as they stare into his soul. "You're not allowed to fall in love with any of the Bats."

Wes mind blanks, then reboots, "Excuse me!?"

"We know you had a crush on all of us here Wes and Val" Sam laughs when he turns wide eyes at her. "It's cute but you really shouldn't try for the Bats. They're the violent sort"

"What?!"

"Yeah, you have a type, and it's a hero or hero adjacent." Tucker shrugs "It's cool."

Wes can only gape at them, no matter how much he tries to convince them; otherwise, the three refuse to remove his rule. He is highly offended by it.

Yes, he's never really gone out with Team Phantom, just because when he joined the group, most of Danny's rouges were long gone leaving behind the tiny ones that he could handle on his own, but he wasn't into heroes!

And okay- maybe, maybe at one point or another he may have had slight crushes on his friends but they were quick and gone before the first school year together!

So the rule is utterly ridiculous!

At least, he thinks so until five days later when he's trying to find his way around the new neighborhood and gets caught up in a mugging. He could have quickly taken the mugger- humans had nothing on ghosts- but he attempted to talk the young adult out of it when Red Robin swooped in like a knight in shining armor.

He may have just stared at the hero's tight-skin outfit instead of letting the hero know that he could handle it, and he may have made a fool of himself when Red Robin asked if he was right.

"Yeah tots fine" He babbles. Ugh, who says tots?! He wants to stop talking but when Wes gets nervous he tends to just word vomit and he could hear himself doing it now. "You know who else is fine?"

Red Robbin raises a brow, likely knowing the pickup line. Cowering, Wes changes the answer in a panic. "Timothy Drake!"

Red Robin stills. "Come again?"

"Timothy Drake, a boy in my class! He's fine that you think he was part siren or something. You've seen him, right? I mean you have eyes!" He repeats with a squeal "I want to get into his private liberty!"

"Do you?" Red Robin tilts his head, a slight smirk forming on his mouth. "You should try flirting with him then. Maybe he can give you a tour."

"Oh, I want more than a tour!"

Why did he say that?!

At least the hero in front of him laughs until a shout has them both looking away.

Danny is running down the street screaming his name, thank the Ancients. When Wes turns around to wave at him, Red Robin vanishes without a sound or trace.

Like a ghost.

Oh no, that's hot.

"Danny, I broke the rule"

"For Ancient's sake, it hasn't even been a month."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #wes weston #Wes/Tim #do they have a ship name?#Wes has a type and it's heros #Tim thinks the new boy is cute #Danny just wants wes to open the childlock on his home town #Sam and Tucker are there for the ride

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specialgradefckr · 5 months ago

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Heatwave: Day 4

tw: explicit content. 13k+ words. College AU. Satoru/Reader, past (unrequited) Suguru/Reader and Suguru/Satoru. afab!beta!reader (they/them), alpha!gojo. feral!gojo, feral!reader, i am not sorry

Some alcohol, but no one is actually drunk. oral (reader receiving), sex toys, dirty talk, knots, satoru in rut, satoru is a little gross but only because he's obsessed, you and satoru take turns going insane over each other

childhood friends to lovers. humor. intense platonic love. PINING. so much pining. omegaverse antics. gojo has provider/caretaker!alpha instincts. this fic is more romance than smut so just read it if you want chemistry and yearning with gojo that ends in sex.

Prompt: A beta develops the ability to smell scents and finds themselves losing their mind.

You’d never particularly minded being a beta. Sure, alphas and omegas didn’t have to deal with periods, but considering how awful ruts and heats can be, you think you got the better end of the deal.

In isolation, being a beta isn’t a bad thing, although there’s times you’ve wished you were something else.

Your best friend, Satoru Gojo, is an alpha, and that had never really mattered, either.

Then one day – you wake up, as per usual.

You meet up with him and walk to Jujutsu Technical College together; Satoru lives on campus, but he likes to walk with you. Presumably to snag an extra ten minutes or so during which to be a pain in your ass.

As soon as he sees you, he beams, a spring in his extra large stride as he comes up behind you, throwing an arm over your shoulders.

This wasn’t unusual. He’d done this a million times before. What’s unusual is a – something in the air. You sniff, and Satoru picks it up right away, sniffing along with you.

Whatever you’re smelling, he must not detect it.

It doesn’t smell like anything specific, you couldn’t definitively match it to a food or candle or anything in particular.

It’s a sweet and sour sort of thing, similar to lemonade; it almost makes scrunch your nose, and at the same time your mouth waters as if you can already taste it.

“What is it?” He looks at you from behind those stupid sunglasses that somehow looked awesome on him. “I know it’s not me.”

“Nothing, I just thought I caught a whiff of like… a drink or something. I must have spilled it on my clothes somewhere.” You’re really sure you didn’t, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

It makes less sense that the smell gets stronger when Satoru leans in towards you – way too close, you’ve gotta yell at him about personal space sometime – and takes an exaggerated sniff.

“You look like a pervert,” Your observation doesn’t stop him in the least. In fact, you think he sniffs even harder. “Have I got crack on me or something?” Satoru snickers at that.

“Nah, I’m actually not getting anything.” He leans in even more, almost towards your neck, “You sure you’re not going crazy?”

“Ugh, stop it, you freak!” You shove him aside, and he lets you with a laugh.

You don’t smell it again for the rest of the walk.

You visit a doctor’s office. Nothing has been unusual between your legs, and god knows Satoru would have teased you about it immediately if he’d smelled anything different.

But the doctor tells you why you smelled something he didn’t; alphas, especially young ones not yet out of their teenage years, were generally blind to their own scents, as most people were.

What you’d been smelling had been Satoru.

Sudden onset scent sensitivity. Real tongue-twister of a name, but it was real, and you’d looked it up after they told you about it.

It’s funny, because you’ve never had a very strong sense of smell; Satoru had always been utterly baffled by it.

Especially after presenting, he was floored at the fact that you couldn’t tell that his jacket smelled like him, to which you’d asked him (very seriously) if he had ever heard of a washing machine.

Washing with soap did typically remove the scent from articles of clothing, but it was common for an alpha or omega to run their hands over fresh laundry, or toss a clean-but-scented blanket into the dryer for a quick tumble.

Scenting stuff. You’d never really gotten the idea behind it. All humans were born with scent glands, and their secondary sexes develop those glands – along with their genitalia – in different ways.

A beta like you had no secondary sex hormones, and consequently didn’t develop any secondary sex characteristics. While betas do have scent glands, the scent they produce is weaker, and they don’t emit pheromones at all.

However, human bodies and developments were as diverse as they were weird. It wasn’t uncommon for individuals to produce a specific hormone or group of hormones, developing part of a secondary sex’s characteristics without actually presenting as one.

Turns out your body produces a hormone linked to the ability to smell pheromones. The doctor said it had probably started happening during puberty, and over the years, it eventually led to your newfound sensitivity.

That didn’t make you an alpha or an omega, but it did clue you in to something that only they could sense. A whole new world of conversations and invisible signaling going on, pheromones, scents –

And, as you learned in a painful, awkward stint past Satoru’s dorm room at the college – there was no good way of saying this – cum.

Good old whiff of cum while you walked by, so profuse it almost kind of gagged you, head racing with confusion and alarm at what the fuck this new sensation was.

But very quickly you catch on to how your heart picks up, how your thighs clench. Alpha cum has pheromones in it, after all.

And a peek into his bachelor pad later reveals a trashcan full of tissues you wouldn’t have glanced twice at before. Maybe not even once.

Just beside them is a seemingly innocuous crumpled up sock and your nose is saying yUP. THE SEXY IS ON THE SOCK.

Okay, so it’s cum. And you know it’s cum. And you’ll know it’s cum every time you visit, and every time Satoru is even a little bit messy with it, which is always, because he doesn’t know that you can smell his cum.

Cool, cool, okay, cool.

But that was fine. Totally fine, right? It’s not like you thought Satoru was a monk or anything. So, your best friend jerks off sometimes. He’s a teenage boy, it’d be weirder if he didn’t!

It’s hard to look him in the (extremely pretty) eyes that day, though.

It isn’t a gross scent, exactly, it’s just very… distinct.

Satoru’s cum does still smell a bit like him, that tangy, mouth-watering scent, but with an unmistakable undertone that your brain can only register as horny.

But like. You know what it is! You’re forced to know! And even if you’re just a beta, you can’t help how you react to the knowledge.

Even if it’s weird, though, in a (deeply awkward, uncomfortable) way you’re glad.

You were close friends with alphas and omegas, and those friendships were just like any other, really, but there was this type of communication that you couldn’t understand.

Omegas and alphas would just get certain things about one another, a natural sort of empathy that only came from shared experiences.

A party that you weren’t invited to, a bunch of inside jokes you weren’t in on, a language you couldn’t understand.

Satoru was your best friend, but you didn’t think for a second that you were his.

His best friend was a fellow alpha, Suguru Geto. You’d met in high school, years ago, and you’d been crushing on Geto for a while before he presented. You’d already presented by then and you were sure he’d be a beta, just like you.

Even though Satoru had been telling you for weeks that he’d be an alpha. Said he could just tell. He just knew. Boy, it was annoying when it finally happened.

Alpha-beta pairs aren’t the rarest thing in the world but they’re not that common, either.

You’d been hopeful about it for a while, until you see how the two of them got along, understood each other so seamlessly, connected even during their not-so-uncommon arguments.

(Satoru had always gone to you, after those, to complain. As if you’d take his side over Geto’s! Even if you weren’t infatuated with the guy, he was way more reasonable than Satoru. High school Satoru was a menace.)

Even after Geto left for a different college, there was always this layer of distance that you felt between you two after he presented.

Satoru didn’t seem to know it existed at all, but you felt it, every time he or Geto or anyone else referenced these feelings that only alphas or omegas experienced. Feelings you couldn’t understand.

“Eugh, I’m in pre-rut, it totally sucks…”

“I told you, Satoru, order one of those online rut kits. The included toys work really well.”

“Whaaaaaaat? I thought you were gonna ask out that omega guy from Chemistry!”

“Don’t remind me, I almost wish I had. God, if I did, maybe I could spend the next rut with him…”

And it was bad enough that you kept being reminded of it, that your crush was an alpha and his dream partner would always be an omega.

That you’d never be what he wanted, just what he had, even if you got together.

What was worse was how touchy they got, even after presenting. Casually slinging arms around your shoulders, both of them, hugs to say hello and goodbye, the sudden familiarity and physicality you could only attribute to them presenting as alphas.

It was apparently normal for alphas or omegas to want to scent their close friends, and you were always stuck between the two. Some kind of pack behavior stuff.

Satoru constantly took your stuff, made plans with you then cancelled later, showed up whenever you were trying to make new friends to scare people off.

Like all your free time should belong to him, even if all he wanted to do was find an omega to bang. You were young, and dumb, and Satoru was your closest friend, so you let him get away with it.

He’d always been possessive like that. There weren’t a lot of people who could get close to Satoru, and even fewer people who stayed there.

He was needy, demanding, and capricious all at once, just as likely to leave you on read than to spam you with twenty messages in five minutes.

So hot and cold. Geto got most of Satoru’s attention back in high school, and when he could be bothered to hang out with you, Geto was usually there too.

Geto was less of a raging whore than Satoru, but they talked about it casually enough for you to know they both got around. Like it was some badge of pride.

Dumb alpha crap. Even when they didn’t want you, they had to be weird towards you.

They’d steal your clothes, try to get you to wear theirs, fussing over seemingly meaningless trivialities, like which colors you liked better, whose lunch you wanted a bite from, where you sat during movie night.

Exchanging looks while you glared at them, like they were speaking in a language you didn’t know. Satoru’s arm around your neck while Geto leaned into your side.

But you could tell what was going on between them. Bumping into each other, shoving one another’s shoulders and laughing.

The casual competition that extended to everything – sports, grades, social connections – not just you. How Satoru started spending more time with Geto, hanging out without you.

Nothing was more important to Satoru than finding someone who understood him.

He’d been utterly heartbroken when Geto left, and if this was how he reacted to losing a best friend who he insisted he didn’t have feelings for, you dreaded how he’d react to an actual breakup.

For his part, Satoru had gotten better. You got better at establishing boundaries, making other friends, and telling him directly that he made you feel like shit sometimes. Slamming the door in his pretty face had never felt so good.

If you’d known how easy he was, how that was all it took to get him crying and whining and scratching at your door, then you’d have kicked him to the curb ages ago.

Satoru had tried hard to understand you from then on, to respect your boundaries; borrowing things instead of stealing, keeping his commitments, be the friend you deserved, and not do weird alpha posturing crap.

But now you could detect some of the things that they could. You had a little look into the world he’d been living in, of scents and pheromones and irresistible arousal...

And you’re just as confused as before.

Confirming what you’d always thought; you’re a beta, he’s an alpha, and nothing in the world could ever bridge this particular gap between you two.

There’s so many weird things, so many mixed signals, it honestly doesn’t make any sense.

It has to be something an omega would understand, something Satoru or Geto’s ideal partner would just get, that you… couldn’t.

You start smelling Satoru’s scent in a lot of places, not just when you’re around him.

Somewhere in your closet. Okay, that makes sense, you remember him getting something out of there one time. When you look, you find the source of the scent – a scarf.

Satoru had bought a matching version after seeing it on you; it was something he’d done before. Shown up with an identical article of clothing, crowing about it totally looked better on him. You couldn’t roll your eyes hard enough at him.

He must have dropped it and thought it was yours. You’d sworn your copy of this scarf was in this closet, but you can’t find it, so maybe you wore it and left it somewhere else and forgot. Or maybe he picked up your version –

No, wait, he wouldn’t have. Satoru was supposed to be mostly blind to his own scent but he could smell yours, at least a little.

And scent blindness didn’t apply to objects or people that were actually scented… or maybe they did? You’d have to check it out. Just more alpha things you didn’t understand.

Besides, you were being pretty careless with your laundry lately. There’s an extra sock that appears in your wash, making you think that maybe he really did just leave his scarf and yours is still lying around somewhere, but the sock is nowhere near his size.

Sometimes you think this new scent sensitivity is just driving you crazy.

There’s more, too. Like a pen of yours that suddenly reeks of him; you recall having seen him put it in his mouth when staying over for a study session, but you’d assumed it was his own back then.

He would still help himself to your things these days, boy-prince that he was - he just made sure to repay you later, always with something nicer than what he'd taken. And he never took anything important.

Saliva was so strongly scented that even Satoru would have had to smell it, and he just did that to your pen? Eugh!

And how he leans into you when you’re walking side by side sometimes. An arm over your shoulder.

Now, you realize that with the way he rests his stupid lanky ass body against you, your hair often gets tucked into his neck, right where his glands ooze his electric scent all over you.

But Satoru’s weird, he’s always been weird. Probably a bit possessive, too – you remembered him and Geto doing this crap in high school, it’s just that you’re only now noticing how obvious it is to anyone who can smell it.

Then, one day hanging out in his dorm, you start to smell something different on him. His sweet and sour smell practically burns in the air like ozone, overtaking your head from the first sniff just like a shock.

Satoru doesn’t even notice you being weird about it, either, he just gets all huffy and tells you to come sit next to him.

Wait. Is he… is Gojo…

You look at him, making a face you’ve seen about a million times before, eyes glancing away as if bored.

One breath in and your senses scream horny. Horny, horny boy, horny jail, Satoru might as well be blushing and grabbing his crotch from what your brain is suddenly screaming at you.

This isn’t the scent you’d smelled before, when he had – oh god WHY do you have to be thinking this – just finished jerking off.

What??? What is it?? What is going ON? He hadn’t been watching porn or something before you came in, right?

“Satoru?” You say his name and his head instantly turns to you, like he’s standing to attention.

Something more trickles into the air just for a moment, a happy burst of pheromones reminiscent of a tiny little firework.

…He didn’t just, like, cum or anything, right?

Your name interrupts your thoughts, “What is it?” Big blue eyes looking at you. Pretty as ever.

There’s an inexplicable fondness that rushes through you, a rush of comfort, and reassurance, like you can tell him anything and he’ll help you.

“Uh, just – are you studying for Calc II? I have a test coming up.” Satoru isn’t in Calc II, what were you talking about? Why did you even ask?

“Yeah, I took it, let me get you my notes from last semester!” He shoves the chair back quicker than you’d expect, a grin creeping up his face, “Say thank you senpai~” He says in sing-song as he waves a notebook at you.

You roll your eyes. “We’re both sophomores.”

“But you’re behind me in this class,” Always so smug, “Don’t worry~ You know I’ve always got you, hm?”

Something feels too warm inside you for him to smell this horny. And why is it getting to you like this? What’s getting to you? Is this some kind of alpha thing? Does he even know he’s doing this?

You almost open up your mouth to ask him, but think better of it.

It’s not something you’d get anyways. You’re a beta and all.

“Yeah. Thanks, Satoru.”

He actually leaves you to study in peace after that. He takes the bed, claiming he just needs to review some stuff, and lets you sit at his desk and write answers.

Every now and then, you find your voice asking for help out loud with uncharacteristic meekness. Like you’re afraid he’ll tease you more instead of helping (the teasing, you expect, but surely you know he’ll help you anyways).

But Satoru darts over with an equally uncharacteristic attentiveness, looking over your shoulder, explaining the problem right away from beginning to end, patiently covering each part and answering your questions.

His face feels so warm next to yours. You know his neck – his scent glands – are digging into your shoulder where he’s looming over you, arms reaching around your side to point at different parts of the problem. Satoru doesn’t realize you smell it, but like this, his scent is overwhelming.

It leaves you flushed, tugging at your collar and swallowing dryly.

“Oh, you thirsty? I was about to get snacks!” He chirps before practically prancing off.

Satoru sounds weirdly excited to do it. It isn’t that weird – he loves study treats, “A little reward for working so hard~” – but his scent exudes a weird eagerness, a satisfaction, like he’s doing a really good job at… something.

What is this? Some alpha thing? You use the opportunity you get when he prances off to fan yourself. Take a deep breath or two.

There’s nothing weird about this, Satoru is acting the way he’s always been acting. He doesn’t know you can tell, now.

No way are you letting go of this advantage, after all that time he must have lorded it over you. In high school his scent was probably even stronger, and he and Geto rubbed it ALL over you!

Something catches your eye, though, or rather your nose. It’s on the corner of his desk, at the very edge. It smells like Satoru everywhere in here (you’d begun to learn that teen alpha boys, much like regular teen boys, absolutely reeked) but this scarf doesn’t. In fact, you think you recognize it.

Picking it up, you can smell your own scent on it, just faintly. Betas don’t smell like much, but this was something you wore often, and you can catch the faint vanilla sugar aroma that’s supposed to be peaceful and calming, like betas apparently are.

This was it, the same scarf that had gone missing in your closet. This one being yours – it still had your scent on it, somehow, even with how much Satoru reeked – and the one in your closet, as you suspected, was his.

The little thief! What was he doing with your clothing? Did he lose his scarf and decide to nick yours?

But… how could he have lost it in your closet? You were pretty sure you’d left yours in your closet.

From what you know about Alphas, they’re not supposed to like foreign scents in their “dens”, even from a mild beta. It would be immediately obvious that this doesn’t belong.

Maybe, being blind to his own scent, he didn’t notice your smell, but if he’d used it, even for just a couple hours, your scent should be totally gone from it.

So why’s it just sitting here, away from his bed or anywhere else the scent of you on it might be disturbed?

Satoru must have swapped them out intentionally. Or – why would he? If he took yours and just didn’t wear it, then that would explain it, too, right? Maybe the one in your room was yours, and he’d just swapped them back after wearing it. But why? Satoru would probably borrow your toothbrush if it saved him a trip to the convenience store, he didn’t care.

Your mind spins and spins until Satoru comes back, a couple bags of convenience store treats and drinks in hand, grinning and preening so hard – “Aren’t I just the best partner? Study buddy? You’re wel~come~” – if he were a dog his tail would be wagging wildly behind him.

Whatever. You’re just going crazy. Betas aren’t even supposed to be able to tell any of this stuff. It’s weird, you wouldn’t get it.

But Satoru gets you – has your back, like he always does. You leave his company smiling, content, like you always have.

After you ace the test the next night, you run at him beaming with excitement. He catches you in his arms and spins you around and you smell a pure and genuine joy in his scent as he teases you.

“Of course you aced it! You doubted my teaching?!”

“Never, Satoru-sensei~”

“Hehe. What a promotion from being your senpai!”

“I never admitted that!”

(Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. And you’ll hand it over with a smile, too, because when have you ever been able to say no to that pretty face?)

Just – you’re friends. You celebrate each other’s accomplishments, nothing weird there.

You see your scarf again after a night of drinking.

It’s so stupid. Satoru knows he’s a huge lightweight. He turned twenty right before finals so he’s not technically underage, but still!

So why was he drinking? You’d heard there was some kind of big get-together (Nanami was there, after all), but Satoru wasn’t a social drinker or anything. It was some kind of celebration after finals being over or whatever. Still, the Satoru you knew never drank.

Then you get a text from him, begging you to pick him up from the bar. Why? You’re a college student, you don’t have a car! He can text you, but he can’t get a taxi? He can’t be that wasted.

And you know it’s from him because only Satoru would beg for help while also making it sound like it was an honor for you to help him. Ugh.

The worst part is, even when he’s tipsy and stumbling, he’s well over six damn feet tall and easily sends you stumbling whenever his steps waver. One arm wrapped around you like you’re some kind of living crutch.

“Awh~ Came to pick me up? You really do like me, huh?” He crows, like he hadn’t pleaded with you over text. He smells like fruity vodka and – someone else. Must be an alpha he hung out with at the party.

“Someone has to.” You grumble as you deposit him into the car seat, shoving at his shoulder when he doesn’t move over right away.

He pats on his lap, head tilted back, eyes dreamy and half-lidded as he giggles. Three times, before you scoff, slam the door, and go around the other side to sit next to him. Dumbass.

The ride to the dorm is less annoying than you thought it would be, mainly because Satoru… isn’t actually that drunk at all?

Just tipsy enough to tease you to sit on his lap, apparently.

“Come ooooon! We never cuddle anymore!”

“We haven’t cuddled since we were nine, and you said I had cooties.” It was pretty normal, of course, but it had hurt at the time.

“It’s been over ten years, won’t you forgive me?” He complains, “What, you don’t love me anymore?”

“I’d love to smack you,” You mutter to yourself.

Satoru must overhear you wrong, because he wiggles happily in his seat, reaching out to pull you against him. You let him sit like that for the ride as he rambles on about his night.

It’s cute. You’re a huge homebody – Satoru knows that – but it sounds like he had fun, connected with some old friends. Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara – names you haven’t heard in ages.

By the time you get to the dorms, you’re chatting animatedly about Nanami’s choice of major and whether or not it suited him (You really can’t believe he just went into Accounting like that. Why wouldn’t he go for Literature? He loved the book club you were both in! Satoru insists he was only doing it to get girls, though).

He starts clinging to you again in that weird way (he is totally not drunk enough to need it), where he rests some weight on you but not too much, at an awkward angle since he’s so stupidly tall.

It’s just enough for you to stagger with him to his dorm room, shoving the door open while he snickers at your fumbling – “Thanks for the help, Satoru.” “You’re welcome! Aren’t I just the best?” – like some prince on his throne.

You shove him in, utterly impatient, and groan when his hand finds your arm and pulls you in with him.

Satoru spins around once like the pretty princess he is, laughing to himself, smelling like ozone again as the arousal hits your senses. But he must not notice the surprise on your face, because he reaches out a hand towards you, beckoning while you back towards his bed.

Maybe he is more drunk than you thought, if he was this turned on –

Wait. Wait wait wait wait wait wait. WAIT!

Your mind is racing ahead, thoughts flooding your synapses, eyes wide as you inhale again and detect the same thing.

The scarf. It’s there, in the corner of your eye.

It doesn’t smell like you anymore. It’s crumpled up in a corner, unmistakably dirtied.

He jerked off on it. He totally fucking jerked off on it. The scarf is literally crusted with his cum. THE FUCK???

It wouldn’t have been weird, just gross, but this isn’t Satoru’s scarf and Satoru knew that. There was no way he’d missed that it smelled like you! It might have even smelled like you when he was jerking off into it!

Did he – why would he –

If he wanted it to smell like him, why jerk off on it? He could just wear the damn thing! Actually, he had one that already smelled like him! And he gave it to YOU! Why???

The uncomfortable feeling in your chest churns harder.

You’re insane. You must be going completely insane.

The sock. No fucking way. There’s no fucking WAY. That would be so gross. Your insides are churning, hot and roiling with something and you just. There’s no way.

That’s the only explanation, because when you open your mouth, you actually say.

“Gojo did you – did you steal my sock? And my scarf?” Your voice gets higher in pitch, “And then jerk off on them?”

You’re definitely going insane, because the Satoru giggles like a kid caught with his hands in the candy jar. Maybe he really did get totally fucking smashed at the get-together. Maybe he’s been getting smashed these whole past few fucking weeks!

“Haha, yeah! I’m in rut, you can’t blame me,” He whines like he totally expects to be excused of this one little slip-up, like jerking off into an article of clothing that smelled like you was just boys being boys or some crap from high school, “And – hey! Don’t call me Gojo!”

He’s – he’s in rut? Had that been why all this weird shit was happening to you? He was just doing some weird alpha crap, and it was getting to you because you could smell it?

A groan escapes you. “Satoru.” Why does he light up when you say his name like that? Why does your chest feel so fucking – “Go sober up and pass out. I’m going home.”

You need to get out of here, before this shit gets to you any more. Satoru doesn’t know he can affect you with this. It’s never affected you before.

Your face is hot. So, so hot.

“Don’t leave.” The words sound like a whimper, like a wail, so impossibly morose. He’s on his knees already in front of you, pawing at you with both hands, clinging. “Don’t leave. Stay with me.”

Crystal blue eyes gazing up at you, wide and tearful. Cheeks still flushed a little pink. Moonlight from the window filtering over his lovely features. Lust in the air, radiating off him, seeping into you with every breath.

He’s so pretty. Satoru’s always been the most beautiful person you know. He’s in rut, and he wants you to stay, and it shocks you how a thrill runs through you at the thought. Desire molten in your chest, dripping down to your core.

“You’re in rut, and you’re drunk – ”

“Even I’m not drunk off one strawberry daiquiri,” And though you’d like to deny it, if Satoru’s sober enough to snark at you, he’s probably not that drunk. Which means this is all his rut – “And god, I’ve wanted you so fucking long. Rut’s just made it worse.”

The words should feel like they’re shattering you. Like decades of friendship are teetering on the balance, on a tightrope over one stupid night of drinks.

Instead you just feel hotter than ever. Every breath tells you what it had been telling you from the beginning, what you were just too blind to see. Desire. Lust. Want.

“I thought we were just friends,” You say quietly, like it’s some confession.

He stands up so he can cup your face, tilt it so your gaze meets his. “It’s okay if you don’t – if you’re not – you know. If it’s too much right now. I was too pussy to say it for a long time, I just scented you, and hung out with you, and whatever else you’d let me, but…”

“How long? I know you didn’t like me in high school.”

“I fucking loved you in high school, I was just a huge dick. You know that.” Those pretty eyes look down, only for a moment, “Back then, I didn’t want to fuck you. Doesn’t mean I didn’t love you to death. Still do.”

“But you want to – ”

“Yeah, I super wanna fuck you now.” He looks back at you with that stupid pretty face and that stupid charming grin, way more cheerful than it has any business being, “But you know, you’ll always be my best friend, right? My number one. If I need to spend a hundred years convincing you that I’ll be the best boyfriend ever, that’s fine.”

A hundred years? You’d dare him to last a hundred seconds without whining for what he wants like the spoiled brat he is.

But his eyes are so bright, and you can smell how much he wants you. He wants you that much and he says this.

“I’ll be so good,” He purrs, arms wrapping around you and bringing you closer to him, “The best. I’m pretty, you know. And I’m rich. I’ll go out on dates with you all the time, my treat, and kiss you, and hold your hand, and you can wear my clothes, it’ll be so great – ”

Satoru starts stepping backwards, dragging you with him towards the bed as he moves.

You chuckle. “Thought about this a lot, have you?”

“Every minute of every day. Half of it I’ve been doing already.” He reaches the bed and turns you so your back is facing it. Pushes you gently to sit.

Satoru gets on his knees in front of you again, and your heart skips a beat. You’re starting to think it’s a good look on him. But his eyes are wicked, his grin feral, pheromones suffocating you in the next breath before he speaks.

“I know you want me too. Let me eat you out.” He’s already taking off his shirt, like he knows what it does to you when you see him shirtless.

Even in high school, that lean, swimmer’s body had left you flustered. Satoru’s always been like that, so effortlessly perfect looking, so unashamed at being seen. He grins at the feeling of your eyes on him, you think he’s even posing a little bit, the diva.

“Yeah, you like that? ‘Course you do. Best alpha around.” His gaze peeks up at you through lowered white lashes, “I’m something special, aren’t I? It’s all yours, baby. All for you.”

God, he’s so beautiful. You’re so weak for him. That hopeful smile makes your heart tremble. He’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, ethereal with his white hair and shimmering blue eyes and lean, muscled body, and it’s all for you, all yours, baby.

“Satoru…” For a moment, you truly can’t believe this is actually happening.

And then a large, warm hand finds its way into one of yours, threading between your fingers, an easy smile on his lips as he looks up at you. This is him, your best friend. Satoru. Your Satoru.

He nuzzles his head against your legs, digging underneath your pants with impatient fingers, “Say you want me, just say it. I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Why – why are you asking all the sudden?” Your will to resist him is dropping exponentially and you’re pretty sure he knows it. “Why now?”

“Why right now? I’ve been dying for you since my rut began, and finally got myself a dose of liquid courage.” He brings your hand up to his face, kissing over your knuckles. “But if you want to know why I want you… It just happened. Woke up one day wanting you and it never went away.”

“Wanting to fuck me, or wanting to date me?” You’d never thought Satoru would want you. It just seemed so impossible. “I’m a beta, it’s not like I can help your rut.”

Your hand is pressed against the front of his pants, unbearably hot, bulging outward. His fingers trapping your palm against it. It’s like you can feel him pulsing through the fabric. A knot big enough to break you.

There’s a part of you that’s thrilled at the idea, that makes you clench and think I could take it, makes you want to try and shove it inside, but you fantasized enough about Geto and his knot in high school to know. It would be sexy for about three seconds, and then it would just hurt.

Not the good kind of hurt. The kind of hurt that leaves you hyperventilating, snot and tears crying as you panic over the possibility of an embarrassing ER visit, wondering if you’ve actually ripped something down there, it hurts that much.

“It’s all for you, babe, whether or not you want it. It’ll always be for you.” Satoru purrs, leaning close enough that you can feel his breath on your face, “I’d take your hands over any omega’s pussy any day. Fuck, please, just spit on it, I could cum from that, you know?”

You giggle, bewildered and unreasonably turned on. “You sure you’re not still that stupid horny alpha boy from high school?”

Satoru leans forward so his chin rests on the edge of the bed, looking up at you from between your legs. You become explicitly aware of the wetness growing against your panties.

“Nope. Stupid horny high school me didn’t know shit. This is your modern Satoru Gojo, older and wiser and better than ever.” His eyes sparkle at you. Hand squeezing yours. “Let me? Please, please, let me?”

“Yeah,” the word leaves you like a sigh, from you and from Satoru, “You talk a big game, Satoru. Just try and make me cum.”

You don’t know why you make it out to be a challenge. It’s not easy to make you cum, but it’s not this impossible task either. He’s a clever boy, he can figure it out.

Step one he’s clearly got down perfectly, tugging your pants and panties down in a move so fast it tugs into your knees. You don’t have time to move for him before he lifts your legs for you, dragging your clothes entirely off in one swift, merciless movement.

Oh. You are wet. Your face heats up, and it doesn’t get better because then he grabs your thighs and tugs them apart, spreading you and pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, where his face is.

“Okay baby,” He whispers against your cunt, breath hot against you, “One last time. Show me how you touch yourself, show me what you like.”

One last time?

God, you should have known this idiot would need pointers. Even if it was a perfectly reasonable ask.

“Sure, since you need it so much.” You mutter, mostly at the heat on your cheeks, the wiggling feeling in your chest at the way his eyes roam over you, following your hand down between your legs.

Something hot and slimy meets your fingers as soon as they get close, and you nearly yelp –

“Just helping,” Satoru’s got that awful self-satisfied look on his face, and he licks your fingers again, like he wants to suck on them, “Get you nice and wet, first, should never go in dry baby.”

At least he had that much sense. It’s hampered by the fact that he’s talking to you like he knows shit.

“Excuse me, this is still my pussy,” Covering your mortification at touching yourself to an audience with words, you dip your fingers into your entrance just to wet them up some more.

“Not for long,” He grumbles. What? “Just show me how you like it.”

“I’m trying!” You press against your clit from the side, rubbing against it indirectly, leaning into the sensation until you feel pleasure pooling from each press. “No thanks to… the peanut gallery over here.”

Satoru does shut up for a moment, and you try not to think about how it’s because he’s staring intently at your sex, like he’s about to take notes on it or some shit.

Fuck, fuck, he’s so stupidly pretty. You can feel yourself getting wetter at the thought of those beautiful eyes on you. Curse your terrible fucking taste.

You focus on the presses, speeding them up just enough to not be too much, increasing how far you press in, just a little more, moving your hips to nudge yourself into it –

“Okay, enough.” A larger hand snatches your wrist, pulling it away. Your huff is nothing short of indignant and half-disbelieving. But then again, what had you been expecting? “I got it. No more touching yourself.”

The way he says it, blue eyes darkening, sounds a little more serious than it should. Voice a little lower. Scent dusting the air with something powerful, authoritative, distinctly alpha.

He doesn’t mean…

The thought is interrupted by the sensation of his mouth, warm and wide and open against you, so sudden that you cry out with the heat of it. Wet and welcoming.

His hair threads through your hands. It’s soft, so soft. Like feather down, fluttering at your fingertips. In the pale light pouring through the dorm window it shines like starlight. Something heavenly and pure and right there for you to hold.

Even when your hands fist in it, Satoru just moans, rumbling against your cunt as he lapped against it, drawing you dangerously close to the edge.

Those lips, those pretty, pouty lips, pressing tight against your clit while his tongue works over you. Smooth muscle laving over slick flesh, slipping through your folds.

A naughty dip into your entrance that makes you squeak, just exploring. Tracing along the edge, darting in to sample.

When he pulls away, mouth sinfully wet and shiny with strings of arousal, Satoru meets your eyes directly, deliberately. You watch him raise his two index fingers to his lips, open that awful, sultry mouth, and stick them both in.

The way he does it, tongue hanging out and pooling saliva, then laving it over his fingers, you almost expect him to start moaning like a pornstar.

He’s too dumb to do that, though, and instead closes his mouth around his fingers, sucking on them, and pulling them out with an exaggerated pop!

Yeah, that’s your Satoru. Dumbass. You’re horny and amused, and a little bit mad at yourself for it, too.

He catches it when you roll your eyes at him, and sneaks his warm, wet fingertips right up into your entrance while he latches his mouth onto your clit.

The fingers slide in almost too easily, but his are long. It doesn’t take him long to start curling them, dragging them along your walls inside until that, combined with his suckling at your clit, has you whimpering breathlessly, grasping his hair for dear life – it only makes him moan more, and that only makes sparks of pleasure dance up your already tight, throbbing core.

And it’s annoying, so annoying and so hot and unbearably fucking sexy how he looks up at you right when you’re at the edge, like he knows.

Free hand tightening on your thigh like he’s got to keep you from running away from him, pressing his tongue into your clit.

Rubbing it tightly like he fucking knows exactly how hard it sends you spiraling, panting and wide-eyed as you stare down at the beautiful man eating you out like you’re his last meal ever.

You can barely breathe for the way it takes you, hard and fast, flooding you all at once. Blood soaring with every heartbeat, pressure unfurled into ecstatic currents that ripple out from your core, through your whole body.

Satoru suckles on your clit gently, somehow in perfect time with the waves of pleasure that rush over you, making each one crest just a little bit higher than it should.

He never takes his eyes away from yours. He stays like that, softening, letting up as your climax abates and your clit starts to tingle, oversensitive.

Of course, when he pulls away, he looks invariably pleased with himself. You’re not going to say this out loud (regrettably, it looks like he knows anyways, somehow, he just knows this shit about you) but he absolutely should be.

It was a rush that went through your whole body. You felt like you were flying, breezing freely through the air with Satoru keeping you light.

“What, you want a medal?” It doesn’t have much bite to it with your voice all low and breathy and sated. Satoru just grins.

You move to lay back, but Satoru catches you, straddling you on his knees so he’s not sitting on you, pulling you forward against him. The bulge at the front of his pants rubbing up against your abdomen.

“If you’re offering a reward for my skills, I know just the thing~” Satoru sings.

Utterly cheeky of him, to spring this on you while you’re still in the afterglow. “Satoru...”

"Can I put it in? Please please let me put it on, I promise I'll be so good – "

You smack him upside the head, even though his whimper makes you feel both guilty and horny. Extremely horny, actually. He looks really cute, pouting like that, lips pursed like you really hurt him oh so bad. Like a dog that’s been scolded for something it doesn’t understand.

And maybe he is, with the rut in his brain. Stupid and horny and helpless to refuse you because of it, filled with nothing but the need to please you – every thought flowing through your head starts trickling between your thighs.

"No fucking way Satoru, you know I'm not built for that."

Then he whines, wide eyes looking up at you pleadingly, and you actually feel yourself dripping, clenching, ready for him again when you just came moments ago. Cunt aching for the warmth of him.

God, leave it to Satoru to turn you on so much your dumb ass is willing to even entertain the idea of knot training. He’s in rut. You’re just horny and too dumb to have learned your lesson about pining for alphas in high school.

"Not this time. I need practice." You feel yourself flushing even though it's your own suggestion.

He grins, all teeth and hunger. Eyes bright with something that makes your heart flutter.

"Not this time,” he agrees, “I'll train you. Stretch you nice and slow. Over and over and over again until you can take it without hurting. I’ll train you until you are made for it, made for me, won’t put it in until you’re begging. My omega.”

When did you say he would be training you? And why do his words send liquid fire running through your core?

“Not an omega, Satoru.”

“You’ll be mine.” Triumph laces his voice, “I’ll treat you so nice, I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll never want any knot but mine.”

Now he’s just going full alpha brain, “I didn’t want any knots in the first place!”

“You’ll want mine.” He says it with an utter confidence only Satoru Gojo can possess, “You’ll love it. I’ll make you love it. I’ll be so good for you, I’ll be the best alpha, you’ll never have to make yourself cum again.”

And god, good god, how can he go from puppy dog eyes to proud alpha crowing in the blink of an eye? You just told him you didn’t want his knot! And you only half meant it! God!

“We’ll see about that,” Grumpy, flushed, that’s all you manage, and you’re not even that upset about it.

He rubs up against you like a cat, purring, “I’ll make it good for you, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Then you should take care of him, this time.

“Go get your toy, Satoru.” You tell him like you’re telling a dog to go fetch.

And he does, all eager and grinning as he darts towards a shelf, tugging a toy out of the drawer. It’s literally huge, enough that you might not be able to encircle it with two hands.

“Not as good as you,” He whines as he grabs the lube. You roll your eyes because he’s had none of you yet, “Wouldn’t be as good as you, any of you. You’ll use it on me yourself, at least, right?”

“Yeah, I’m using it on you, dumbass,” You fix him with a look, and he holds your gaze with a pout, “And get used to the idea.” God, you’re flushed again, this is all just so… eugh. “…Cause… you know. We’ll have to go through a lot of knot toys with me, so…”

There’s a spring in his step all the sudden, thrilled at the thought. Brightening as soon as you say “Yeah” – God, was Satoru always this easy?

He lays the toy on your lap like he really is a dog going to fetch, the awful terrible idea you were thinking of comes into shape.

It’s so embarrassing, just the thought makes you feel so… presumptuous, like you’re assuming so much about something you barely understand.

But he wants you. He said he wants you. So you do it.

Flushed, reaching between your legs (the audacity of him to whine and try to tug your hand away), you gather up your own slick and cum and other fluids, cupping them in your fingers.

Satoru’s eyes dilate, face blank with his staggered breath, as he watches you smear it all over the toy, particularly at the entrance. You squirt in a portion of the lubricant, too, reaching in and spreading it with your other hand. This should feel gross. This is super gross.

You’re so fucking wet. You could put even more on it. But something tells you Satoru would prefer that elsewhere.

“Come on, then. You bragged about it so much.” You look at him, eyes half-lidded, lips curled upwards as you loom over the fleshlight. “Show me the goods, alpha.”

With a fast breath he nearly rips his pants and boxers off, cock springing free of its confines and – oh. Oh. Yeah, you were definitely not getting that inside you tonight, not in any universe. But the thought of it makes your thighs clench reflexively.

It’s a pretty cock, too. All red and flushed, dripping and swollen at the tip. Long, unreasonably so, even with the heavy knot at the base. And this is before it’s expanded.

No wonder the toy’s so big.

You scoot back on the bed, legs spread wide, and you pat between them. Satoru’s taller than you, bigger than you, and you quickly realize this isn’t going to work with you sitting behind him, even if he wriggles happily when his chest presses to your back.

(You file this information to use against him one day, though. Satoru would probably melt if you let him be the little spoon.)

Spinning, you move so that you’re straddling his lap. Satoru seamlessly scoots back, giving you enough space to rest yourself on his thighs and trap his cock between the two of you.

You look at his (unfairly pretty) face. Back down at his dick. At his face again, where he’s smiling an awful, conspiratory sort of smile. All but vibrating with excitement.

When you spit on his dick he moans like he nearly is going to cum, and your cunt clenches at the sound. He wasn’t joking, was he?

Your hand darts down between your legs, and Satoru’s eyes darken at the sight, growling. The same hand quickly wraps around his cock, slick with your arousal. Satoru gives a shuddering gasp at the sensation, hips jerking into it. Everything he does has you getting wetter, it’s effortless for him.

And he knows it, too, smells it, because even while he’s catching his breath he gives you that terrible charming smirk that has you burning in the pit of your stomach. So annoying. Your hand tightens and he makes the most pitiful whimper.

You’re hit with the sudden and very real desire to take a bite out of him.

Pretty boy. Pretty boy, all for you, naked and bare in front of you, aching and whining for you to do with him as you please. You think you even see him drooling a little.

You take his lips instead, face tilted upwards as you press your mouth into his, like you can drink him up if you stick your tongue far enough into his mouth.

He’s sweet, because of course he is. A little strawberry, the faintest touch of alcohol.

Your teeth close on his lips, tender, soft, yielding. It’s so easy just to clench down, hard, while your hand pumps his cock some more, and it throbs, violently, as the taste of blood fills your mouth. He moans into it, tongue sliding, dancing against yours like he wants to lick you up.

He’s panting, still, when you pull away. Lips red and swollen and bleeding.

Satoru grins at you, bent over, eyes glittering. Wiping blood from the corner of his lovely mouth.

It’s not enough to bite him. You want to devour him whole. You want him to be yours. You want to see him cum.

“Say my name.”

You hear it.

You fit the toy on top of him, and his hands dart towards you, grasp you with deceptive firmness, like you’re all that can anchor him. His nostrils flare as he slides into the toy lubed up with your own fluids, taking in the scent of you.

He’s probably smelling how wet you are. You slam it down, all the way to the knot, to wipe that stupid smirk on his face.

It works. Now his eyes are wide with shock, mouth gaping open, a noise like a squeak emerging from him as he squeezes his eyes tight, hips squirming uselessly to fit more of himself in.

Delight, wicked and thrilling, lances through your chest at the sight of him. Face flushed, eyes squeezing as he fights to keep them from closing, lips in a wide “O” like some kind of pornstar. God, he’s just too fucking hot.

Without thinking you bring your other hand to his lips, and Satoru closes his mouth around your wet fingers and moans. His half-shut eyes flutter at you, like he’s trying to tease you. Tongue threading between your fingers, cheeks going hollow as he sucks them clean.

His hips thrust up, eager, and he whimpers again. “Say it again.”

Your name, again, warbled around the fingers in his mouth as you twist the toy around him. You press it against his knot just for a moment.

“This is for me, you said?” You pull your fingers away, pull the toy up, and he whines at the absence, like the drama king he is, “You’re hard just for me? A beta?”

When he opens that unthinkably sexy, sultry mouth of his, you slam it back down again. It hits his knot and you bear down, “Ah – hahhh – ahhh~”, and god, your heart is racing and he’s only halfway in.

“Fuck,” He sobs, “Fuck, yes, please – ”

It’s hard to pull it up after that, his knot swelling and throbbing and Satoru squirming like some kind of desperate whore. Clawing at your shoulders as you pull the toy up again.

He keens when your hands leave him, only to brighten visibly as you tug your shirt and bra off. Oh, he’s lost all coherence but he can still cheerfully ogle you, huh?

One of his hands reaches for your breast, mindlessly squeezing. It’s so large he can hold it in his entire hand, and you watch his eyes dilate as he tries to buck up for more stimulation.

You reach back, pumping him again, and you keep pressing it down against his knot, shoving it a little further each time. His words are senseless, mumbles and mutterings, and his eyes don’t leave your body for a moment, like he’s drinking you in.

When you reach the widest part of his knot he actively wails, seizing you at the waist and digging his nails into you, and it burns like hot lines of pleasure over your skin. He’s shuddering now, all lean muscle and powerful form turned to a shivering mess before you, for you.

“Just a little more,” You breathe, “Almost there, baby. You’re gorgeous, so fucking beautiful,” a heavy SHOVE and Satoru cries out as his knot finally slips in.

The breath he lets out is pure relief and yearning tied in one. It’s harder to push down now with him lodged in it. His hands loosen around you, gaze going unfocused, and he mumbles something you can’t quite make out. His hands paw at you, like a blind man groping in the dark.

He’s really, really pretty like this. Needy, teary-eyed, desperate like a dog.

While you work the toy in short strokes, your other hand reaches up to his well sculpted chest, to the supple flesh of his pecs where you dig your nails into, just to hear him whine. To watch a streak of red mark where you draw your nails across him.

When you scratch across his nipple he whimpers again, hips shuddering so much it’s hard to keep the toy on him. His face flushes even harder, eyes trembling, grasping at you with quivering hands.

His abs, perfect like the rest of him, tighten, clenching up. His thighs clench up, too, and you see him actually thrust up into the toy, eyes wild with need. Satoru finally gets a grip on you, and he leans in, too, shoving his face into your neck.

It takes you a moment, pumping to toy to make sure he doesn’t lose his peak, for you to realize he’s smelling you. Taking long, deep breaths of your scent, shuddering like a man who’s found his paradise.

You lean your head to the side, just a little, just to meet his eyes. He looks up at you, he smells you; enraptured, delighted, desperately aroused by the sight of him.

“Say my name,” You beg him, “Satoru, say my – ”

He cums with a cry of it, a wail, and you realize what he’d been mumbling before. Shaking in your arms.

There’s something feral in your chest, something about him in this state that drives you absolutely mad. You keep pumping the toy, even just a little bit, hard friction against his swollen knot, the cum that must be hot and packed against him now.

He wheezes, delirious, and you think for a moment he sounds like a dog toy. You think you want to make him your dog toy. Squeaking while you squeeze him, with your hands, your mouth, your cunt.

He’s too pretty like this, too perfect. All yours, he’d said, and now he’s crying on your shoulders, shuddering with the strength of his climax.

“My alpha,” You coo, breathless, “Only for me.”

Satoru nods dumbly, pretty lips wedged apart, eyes bleary. Pressing a kiss to your neck, licking mindlessly at it. His skin is hot, like all the rest of him, flushed from his release.

You want to give him more. You want to mess him up. You want to fuck him up, take a bite out of him for everyone so everyone sees a piece missing, a piece that belongs only to you. You want to see him cry.

So you pull away to get a better look, but he clings to you. When you push him it feels like trying to tear your own heart out, so you let him kiss and suck against you until he’s kissing up to your lips.

Pretty white lashes fluttering while he nips at your lips, gentle as a kitten with tearstained cheeks.

Then he pulls back on his own and grins at you, so cocky you forget he cried at all.

The toy can’t come off him, locked where it is until the knot goes down, but that doesn’t seem to stop him in the slightest.

“I can smell you,” He pants, “I can smell it. You’re ready for me? Got so turned on by fucking me with that toy, huh?”

There’s heat in his eyes, a wicked smile tracing at his lips, but you meet his gaze with your own fire. “So turned on. You looked so pathetic and pretty, whining and bucking into that toy like a desperate whore. If you’d moaned any sluttier, Satoru, I would have creamed my panties.”

His laugh is almost a howl, “Hahaha! Yeah! Just for you, baby.” He leans in to steal a kiss, “A slut for you. Let me show you just how slutty I can be, I can fuck you so so good baby.”

Your laugh is cut off by his fingers prodding at your mouth, “Spare some spit for your slut, yeah?”

The look you give him, like you’re telling him off while trying not to laugh, sends a shudder of emotion through him that you can’t identify.

You use the moment to open your mouth wide, letting your tongue loll out. Transfixed blue eyes follow your tongue dragging up his fingertips, how you drool on them, moving down and then drawing it up again to wet them.

Satoru makes a little noise and twitches and you know the toy has just milked another little squirt of cum out of him. Maybe knots are kinda cute.

And then he looks back into your eyes. Quick as a whip, closes his mouth around your fingertips, rolling his eyes back with an exaggerated moan, and he’s so fucking stupid and you’re so turned on you actually feel yourself throbbing. Your hands dart down to feel it.

Well, you’d known you were wet, but this was just embarrassing. Worse, since he could smell it.

“I’ve got you. Let me have you, I’ve got you. Leave it to your alpha.”

“Really big words from a guy who was crying when I pumped him with a fleshlight.”

Satoru doesn’t balk, he only grins. With teeth. “You bet I did, baby. Fucked me so good,” he purrs, rubbing up against you again, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed once more, “And I got you all hot and bothered, didn’t I? So let me take care of that for you.”

God, he really knows no shame at all. No wonder he didn’t bother to smother his moans. He knew what they did to you. He always knew what he did to you.

Except, you suppose, with the pheromones that are telling you right now to lie down and let him eat you into oblivion.

Your fingers draw up to your clit, gently pulsing again at the hungry look he’s giving you.

He bats your hands away from your cunt, “I told you I’d take care of you. Spoil you so good. You’ll never touch what’s mine again.”

“What’s yours?”

“You are, baby, all of you. Shouldn’t touch my cunt unless I say you can, that’s my job. Don’t tell me you think I can’t make you feel good?” His eyes sparkle in challenge, teeth bared in a grin.

That’s like, an under-negotiated kink or something. He totally doesn’t own you. He definitely can’t tell you not to touch yourself.

God, it’s such a fucking turn on. Every word has your cunt throbbing harder. It’s probably just dirty talk. Right?

“What,” You drawl, but your breaths are getting shorter as his fingers find their way inside you again, “Can you take responsibility for that, huh, Satoru?”

“I’ve never wanted to take responsibility for anything more in my life.” His fingers delve deeper, thumb rubbing over your clit.

You choke out a laugh, legs quivering. “Not a high bar.”

“It’s okay,” He steals another kiss before he falls off the bed and onto his knees again for you, “I told you, I can do it. You don’t need to touch yourself ever again. I’ll do it all. You shouldn’t have to rely on anyone but your alpha.”

“Ah,” Fuck, you really can’t speak at all, but – but every word is turning you on more, pulsing, pulsing, blood flowing down to the throbbing mess between your legs, “Ah – f-fuck! You don’t mean that, Satoru.”

Another breath, and then you continue, “What, are you really going to drop everything just to – to get between my legs – whenever I want to cum?”

Satoru groans like a broken man. “Please.”

His thumb is replaced on your clit with his tongue, just the right heat and slickness you were craving. Every lap sends your tender nerve endings throbbing. Thighs shaking. Close now.

“If I – if I ever want to touch myself, I just call you, you’ll come racing? Make use of that pretty face – hng, whenever I want? If I ever want to shut you up, I just sneak my hands beneath my panties – ”

The sound that comes from him sounds like it could be a sob, his hands wrap around your legs, seizing them in place as he abandons everything that’s not sucking your soul out through your clit, and fuck, fuck, how is he so perfect at this –

It comes, knocking the breath out of you, leaving you gasping. The heavy tug between your legs finally overwhelming your senses until everything just feels so good.

You reach out, groping numbly until you feel his soft hair in your hands, no strength left to squeeze.

Heat rocks through you, racing up your spine, swelling and swelling until you’re just warm everywhere, limbs tingling with a pleasant, blissful sort of numbness.

A hand settles over yours, large, heavy, and unbearably tender.

Every breath is orgasmic on its own, air flowing through you, heat radiating outwards until you feel it dissipate away gently.

Satoru’s moved you, slid you to lay on the bed while he sits over you. You don’t know when he did that, didn’t feel it.

It doesn’t matter. His hand threads through yours, and you watch him raise it up to kiss it again, lashes fluttering, lips still wet with your cum. There’s this look on his face, reverent and desperate, like he still can’t believe he’s gotten this lucky.

Finally, you see the toy slipping off, and with it, a gush of cum, sticky and trailing from his wet, stinging cock. He hisses at the exposure to open air. You’d honestly just tell him to put it in you if you weren’t worried he’d knot you in his sleep.

Satoru settles beside you, arms wrapped around your form, face buried in your neck.

“Love you.” You feel it more than you hear it, mouthed against your neck, “Love you so much.” A drop of wetness on your throat. “Love you, love you, love you… never leave me, please, never… love you so much.”

His fangs glance over your throat, where no mark they leave will ever stick.

Your heart spills out of your chest a little, through your mouth.

“I love you, Satoru,” You murmur, “I’m a beta, I can’t give you what an omega can, I…” Old wounds, all healed over and aching. “But I’ll give you what I can. If you want it.”

Arms squeezing you. His teeth turn into a kiss, up, up, up your jawline until he’s face to face with you.

“I want it,” He says, eyes shimmering as he leans in to claim your lips. “I’ll always want it. Always you.”

Hours ago

“So are you guy still friends?” Suguru asks, sipping his beer, “You were such a bitch about them in high school. I almost thought you wanted to date them, but with them being a beta and all…”

Satoru groans. “Don’t remind me. I mean, I get how I was in high school, but they liked you, didn’t they? So they’re definitely into alphas.”

“They were. Maybe we permanently turned them off,” he snickers, drawing another groan from Satoru, “What changed, anyways? Why do you want to get with them now?”

“I dunno, man.” Gojo sips at his drink. “It was like one day I was walking them to campus, and they were showing me this picture of a white cat with blue eyes. And they were smiling while they said It’s you, Satoru! and I was about to tell them to shut up but my chest just… exploded.”

“No way. That’s what got to you?” A smile plays on Suguru’s lips, “Do you still have the picture?”

“Shut uuuup. Anyways, I thought about it later and I thought, I want to walk with them every morning for the rest of my life. I want to never go a day without talking to them, or hanging out with them. Want to crawl in their silly little beta brain and live there rent free for the rest of my days.”

Satoru never paid rent to live in anyone’s head, and he lived in everyone’s. “Who’s to say you don’t already?”

“Not like I want to. I want them to think about me all the time, like I think about them. I want them to feel like they’ll die if they don’t see me every day."

His eyes shine with something dark and blue. "I want them to be all mine and no one else’s. I want them to think of me whenever they want something, come to me for everything.”

It’s as good as a love confession, coming from an alpha. Satoru doesn’t have to say it – Suguru knows what it means.

“So… have you told them?”

He startles when Satoru bangs his head on the table. “I wish! It’s like there’s nothing I can do to get them to look at me!”

"So... you haven't said anything, and you're just complaining that they aren't throwing themselves into your arms?"

"Exactly!" Satoru huffs, "I can tell I've gotten to them a little recently, too! We spend like, every waking moment together, and they let me. Why won't they just ask me out already? It's been months, I don't want to spend another rut alone!"

That actually is impressive, coming from Satoru. Back in high school, he would never spend his rut alone, until he and Suguru got close.

Suguru’s chuckle is nothing short of sinister, “God, you’re such a whiny bitch. Can’t believe you didn’t present as an omega.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He snarls, taking another swig of his fruity cocktail. Suguru wonders idly if he knows how much alcohol is in that.

“Sometimes I honestly thought you liked them back in high school, you were so damn clingy all the time. Total omega behavior. I would scent them for five seconds and you’d throw a total fit.”

The glare, the sudden sharp spike of angry alpha pheromones catches Suguru off guard. “You didn’t mean it, though! They had feelings for you and you knew it, and you didn’t like them back! You think I’m just gonna let you fuck around with my friend like that?”

“Hey, hey,” He shakes his head, like that can get the scent out of his nose. “I would’ve dated them, you know, treated them nice. They were cool, I would have given it a shot with them even if they were a beta. But they were so worried about your feelings, they couldn’t even confess.”

“Would’ve, should’ve, could’ve,” Satoru mumbles into his fruity drink, slumping forwards. “They would always side with you in arguments, too.”

“That was because you were an idiot. Godzilla couldn’t take on an Evangelion in a fight and you know it.”

“Dude, the cable! Literally all he’d have to do is cut the cable! I said this a million times! They were crushing on you, that’s why they said you were right.” His nose crinkles in that unbearably cute way. “The fuck was so great about you anyways? I’m way prettier.”

That makes Suguru laugh out loud. Satoru would know. “I honestly couldn’t tell you, Satoru. You’re pretty even when you sulk.”

“Shut up, asshole. You didn’t deserve them, anyways.”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “I guess I didn’t. You didn’t, either, in case you were wondering.”

“Didn’t fuckin’ ask.” Satoru sounds so pouty that he laughs again.

He gives Satoru’s shoulder a good-hearted slap, drawing out a growl from his friend. “We were a pair of fucking jerks back then, you know that. They should’ve ditched our dumb asses the week we presented.”

“You were a jerk. I never led them on, and it’s not like they noticed the scenting!”

“Heh. God, we got away with so much shit because they were a beta and didn’t know what was going on. Got into a pissing contest over a beta we didn’t even want to fuck.” Suguru sighs with a smile, leaning an arm on the bar. “I guess they were just that good of a friend, huh.”

Satoru bites his lip, resting his face on his crossed arms, laid over the table. “Yeah. The best. The one person I never wanted to lose, no matter what. I was so pissed off that you were stealing their attention when you didn’t even like them back.”

“Yeah. I know why you didn’t follow me when I left.”

Satoru snorts. “Don’t sound so morose. I was upfront with my plans from the beginning, you were the one who chose another path.”

“I thought we were friends, though?” A smile plays over Suguru’s lips. Nostalgic.

“So did they. You ditched them, too.” He glares at Suguru out of the corner of his eyes. “Sure, they were too cowardly to confess to you, but you could’ve said something. You never even told them you could smell it when you turned them on.”

“Ha! Neither did you.”

“Why the fuck would I? That shit pissed me off. You’re not that hot.”

Suguru grins at him, “I’m not? You know, I can smell it when you get hard, too – ”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“If it wasn’t for me, then it must have been for them.”

Surugu knows damn well how many times Satoru got a boner because of him. It gets Satoru all cute and irritable.

“Go fuck yourself, Suguru. You can change the subject all you want, but you still ditched both of us. You think I should’ve ditched them along with you?”

He looks down, at his almost-empty beer. “You think they wouldn’t have followed you, if you followed me?”

Neither of them says anything for a moment. Satoru takes one last drinkof his fruity cocktail. His cheeks are flushed a faint pink; painfully attractive, even now. Prettiest alpha he’d ever seen.

He can’t even deny you deserve an alpha like him.

Beautiful, confident, loyal Satoru, who adored Suguru all throughout high school, but wouldn’t leave you for him.

Satoru who cared way more about protecting your feelings than acting on his own. You who cared more about Satoru’s feelings than your crush.

That’s not the kind of friendship you can get just by being similar, by understanding each other. It’s something you raise by hand. Feed it, shelter it, tolerate it when it throws a fit. Learn with it, grow with it, care for it even when it’s shitty. There’s married couples who don’t try that hard.

If friendship is love, then you and Satoru had been in love for years, and Suguru was just the best friend.

“I texted them.” Satoru blurted out. “They’re picking me up tonight.”

“Oh?” Suguru gives him a sly glance. “You telling me after all these years, you’re finally going to shoot your damn shot?”

A scoff. “Nah. I mean – I told you. I really didn’t have that sort of feeling for them back then.”

“Oh, I know.” He rolls his eyes, “But I figured it was going to end like this when you didn’t follow me. If you weren’t willing to leave them for me, then who would you leave them for?”

“Cut the shit, Suguru. If you love someone you don’t make them choose. Whatever you felt for me, your plans for the future were more important than that.”

Suguru stares at his hands. “Why do you think I didn’t ask you?”

Satoru looks away.

They both know why he didn’t ask.

“Still… you’re not going to shoot your shot?”

The blush on Satoru’s cheeks seems a little redder.

His heart aches, because once upon a time, that look was for him. Little stolen moments in locker rooms or during movie nights. A ghost of a heart that was once his.

“I dunno, man. They’re a beta, and I think our bullshit from high school still has them kinda fucked up. Like, they probably think I’m only into omegas.”

Suguru snickers. “You gotta admit, it’s pretty fucking funny. You’ve crushed on everyone except omegas.”

“It’s not like that! You and them just happened to be an alpha and a beta!” Satoru’s words are impassioned – like they get when he’s tipsy, “I just – I just liked you. And now I just like them. Doesn’t matter what they are.”

Three years later, he finally has a confession. It’s a liked rather than like, but at least he’s got the words out of Satoru’s mouth.

You’ll get more than that, he knows. Satoru would move heaven and earth for you.

You’ll get a confession and more, a lot more than a few stolen kisses or heavy petting session here and there, as soon as Satoru’s finished being a huge pussy.

Suguru gets up, glancing at his friend slumped over the counter. Satoru is too busy groaning to see the wistful look on his face, but he does hear his parting words.

“Good luck, Satoru.”

You settle into his arms. Warm, fuzzy, sated. Satoru wraps his arms and legs around you like some kind of koala.

He nestles your head under his chin, pulling you tight against him so you can feel his purrs rumbling against you, light and soothing.

The air is full of contentment, the scent of an alpha pleased and purring, every breath warming you down to the bones – even if his body pressed against you does a good enough job of that.

“Mmm…” It’s hard to think, hard to form any words when all you want to do is relax into blissful slumber, “Satoru?”

Your answer is a squeeze, a moment of tightness that leaves you breathless, just for a little instant. No ability to move at all, and even less will to. You’d laugh, if you had the breath for it.

Instead, you hum, “You smell good.”

He purrs harder at that, happy pheromones, a compliment any alpha would be pleased with. Breathing deeply against you, like he wants to take you directly into his bloodstream.

And then, for a moment, he pauses.

“Oh… Hey,” Satoru asks lazily as he snuggles into you, “How did you know about the scarf and the sock?”

He’s going to remind you of how gross and needy he was while you’re all sticky and tired and stuck in bed with you? Typical Satoru.

“Mmmh.” It’s hard to talk, warm and cozy as you are, all nestled against him, “You reek. Probably because of your rut, too… could smell your cum a mile away.”

He hums in acceptance, and settles against you, ready to doze off.

For a moment, he’s silent, leaving the both of you to drift peacefully –

“EEEEHHH??”

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