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therealcocoshady · 3 days ago

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Kinktober - Day 21 - Aftercare

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

A/N : Here is the aftercare post for Kinktober (yeah, we're still doing that). I think it's the longest I have written so far... But I hope you enjoy it ✨

CW : Dom!Marshall x Sub!reader - Aftercare - A little angst - Fluff

After that weekend Marshall spent taking care of you, you could feel a slight change in the dynamic. He was still your dom, still your friend, but there was more intimacy than ever. He often instructed you to snuggle with him, sit on his lap and, though your quarters were technically still in the guest room, you slept in his bed practically every night you were at his place. It started with him suggesting some cockwarming at bedtime, since you’d both taken a liking to it, but it was now standard for him to just suggest cuddling, and you happily indulged him. It didn’t mean he went any softer on you as a dom, though. If anything, he kept on challenging you, the more comfortable you got as a sub. But you sure enjoyed the cuddling, as well as the more frequent kissing during aftercare. The two of you seemed to have found a steady rhythm and things were great, even though the lines were starting to blur a little. At the beginning, your submission and his dominance were only exerted on weekends and, though you saw each other on other occasions, the rest of the time was strictly platonic. But as time went on, it started bleeding in your friendship. Whenever you were alone with him, you leaned into your submissive side and let him take the lead. It had become second nature, by now, and though none of you exactly addressed it, both of you seemed to enjoy it.

The only clear boundary that remained was that none of your mutual friends and acquaintances knew what was going on between the two of you. As far as they were concerned, you just happened to be at Marshall’s place frequently, and they assumed it had to do with what they jokingly called « nerdy shit ». One of the perks of being longtime friends meant that people around you didn’t bat an eye. Throughout the year, there had been a couple of jokes about the two of you being some kind of match but both of you had always brushed it off. For years, you had joked about him being too old and boring for you and, in turn, he referred to you as « the nightmare for any boyfriend », so people had stopped questioning it. You liked the privacy of it all, the fact that Marshall being your dom was your secret, some sort of safe place no one knew about. You were in sync and you didn’t question it. Until you did.

The session had begun like any other before that. You were spending the weekend at his place, and he had summoned you to the bedroom. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, really. Just him, enjoying you, exploring your body and your limits, while you let him guide you, enjoying the mix of pleasure, struggle and pain. Surprisingly enough, even though he was a dom, he wasn’t kinky in a way you would have deemed as hardcore or elaborate. Before starting this whole dynamic, you would have expected any dom to be some sort of version of Christian Grey, with a huge collection of kinky objects and torture devices and a pleasure room that bordered on creepy. Nothing could be farther from the dom you knew. There weren’t too many toys, definitely no torture device and most scenes took place in cozy bedrooms that belonged on Pinterest rather that in any X-rated movie. And even though Marshall definitely liked to challenge you, it didn’t involve a lot of objects and equipment. Somehow, you had figured that, if you were to freak out during a session, it would be during a scene that was elaborate and intimidating, not one with simple restraints and light impact play. Obviously, you were wrong.

The night had been quite intense, but very, very pleasurable. Marshall had guided you through multiple orgasms and, eventually, you found yourself in subspace. It wasn’t the first time and you enjoyed the dreamlike, floating feeling, losing yourself in the sensations your dom provided, rooted in your connection, in the trust you had in him. No anxieties, no overthinking, just you, surrendering yourself to him. But then, out of nowhere, something shifted. It was subtle, almost like a fleeting shadow in your mind, but it was enough. You couldn’t exactly tell why, though. But suddenly, your peace shattered, replaced by an intense rush of confusion, vulnerability and fear. Panic surfaced, and you found yourself using your safe word. Or rather, screaming it, before you could even fully process what was wrong.

As soon as you called « red », Marshall froze and stopped everything. In seconds, he was freeing you from your restraints, kneeling beside you. He pushed your hair out of your face. You were shuddering, feeling both cold and hot at the same time and, overall, a sweaty mess. « You’re safe. I’ve got you », he said softly, in a low voice, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. As your body began to come down of the intensity, you felt a crushing weight of emotions you didn’t understand. He tried cupping your face, as he had done thousands of times before, but you immediately pulled away. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling more vulnerable than ever. « I-I don’t… », you trailed off, your words stuck in your throat as your thoughts swirled, completely detached from the clarity you had felt just minutes earlier. Your dom stayed quiet, giving you some time, though you could feel his concerned, even if you didn’t look at him. « It’s ok if you’re not ready to talk. Take your time. That’s alright. We’ll go slow», he said gently. You nodded and tried to steady your breathing, but you could feel yourself dipping further into a haze of doubt and discomfort— subdrop. You had read about it but had never imagined it would feel this intense. In the past, you’d felt a need for some comforting aftercare following sessions with Marshall, but this was different. You could still feel the weight of his touch, the sound of his voice, and it left you confused, even fearful in a way that didn’t make sense to you. Marshall slowly got up and grabbed the fuzzy blanket that was at the foot of the bed, gently wrapping it around your shoulders, making sure not to touch you directly. Then, he grabbed a bottle of water from his nightstand and handed it to you. « This is for you. You don’t have to talk just yet. Just breathe, ok ? » he instructed.

The warmth of the blanket seemed to help, and you managed a small sip of water, focusing on grounding yourself. Marshall didn’t move, staying within sight but giving you the physical space you visibly needed. Everything in his calm demeanor suggested he’d been there before, and that it was not exactly unknown territory for him. His gaze was gentle, watching you carefully but without pressure. Gradually, the silence grew less tense, and your heartbeat slowed. You looked up at him, catching his eye for the first time since you had used your safe word. He looked concerned but relaxed, his expression one of patience and kindness. You could see that he was stressing out a bit, too, as if he was afraid he’d done something wrong. « Marshall, I… », you struggled, your voice just above a whisper, not even realizing you hadn’t used his title as you should have. As if your brain were unable to process it in that instant. « I… I don’t know what happened. I was… scared. But I’m not sure why », you tentatively explained. He nodded thoughtfully, reaching forward and resting his hand beside you, close without touching. « That’s ok. Sometimes, things come up and you don’t know why. It happens. But you don’t need to understand it all right now, alright ? And I’m here to help you through it », he said in a reassuring tone. « I’m sorry », you mumbled, almost feeling ashamed. He shook his head and held your gaze. « No need to apologize, doll. You didn’t do anything wrong and, in case you need to hear it : I’m not mad. I don’t want you to feel bad for using your safe word. Ever. You did well », he assured you. You nodded and let out a small sigh of relief. « Well… Thank you for stopping » you said. He let out a low chuckle and gave you a smile. « That’s what safe words are for. You’re safe with me, Y/N. Always », he said.

The two of you sat in silence, your breathing slowly returning to normal. He was sitting quietly beside you, giving you some time. Gradually, your shoulders began to relax, though your hands were still curled in tight fists, gripping the blanket as though it anchored you. After a while, he softly cleared his throat. « Is it ok if I touch you? Just to hold you for a bit? » he asked in a low and gentle voice. You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for reassurance. His question, simple and respectful, made you feel safer. You nodded slowly. « Yeah. Ok. » you whispered. Moving carefully, Marshall slipped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close but without any hint of pressure. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his embrace begin to ease the ache in your chest. His arm settled lightly around you, his other hand reaching to softly hold yours, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. « I’ve got you. You are safe » he murmured. « Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise ».

You closed your eyes, letting his words sink in. His voice held a warmth you didn’t known you needed until you heard it—a quiet reassurance that made you feel grounded. The simple comfort of his steady, gentle touch was like an anchor pulling you back from the drift of emotions you couldn’t quite control. « Thank you », you whispered, your fingers finding his. You let your head rest on his shoulder while his fingers traced soothing patterns against your skin. Both of you remained silent for a while, his quiet presence easing the rawness you were feeling. His breaths were steady and rhythmic, encouraging you to slow down and match his pace. After a while, he finally spoke again. « Do you think you can talk? I need to make sure you’re alright », he said. You nodded and he proceeded with some questions. « Are you feeling any physical pain right now? » he asked carefully. You shook your head before looking at your wrists. « Not really. I mean, the wrists but it’s not… really painful. Just stings. Like usual, I guess. Other than that, I’m just a little sore » you said thoughtfully. He nodded and gently inspected your wrists. The restraints had left some marks, mostly caused by your moving and tugging, but there was nothing really concerning. «And now that you’re a little more clear-headed, is there anything you remember that might have triggered you? Did I hurt or scare you? » he finally asked. You shook your head again. In truth, you couldn’t quite place your finger on whatever it was that went wrong. « No, you were great. You always are. It’s just… It felt so good. I thought I’d never come down. I didn’t want to. But suddenly I did and it was all too much, you know? ». He nodded and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. « Right, » he hummed. « I mean, subdrop happens for many reasons. But sometimes it’s just a chemical imbalance. You have these hormone levels that peak and when they drop, well… You drop too. And you can also have a peak of stress hormones. But it’s nothing to be scared of, doll. And I’m here. »

You nodded, grateful for his presence and the serenity he brought. He engulfed you in another embrace, kissing your temple. The two of you lay back down for a minute as he held you, murmuring sweet words of praise and reassurance. When he could tell you were feeling better, more level-headed, he grabbed your hand and led you to the en-suite bathroom. It was a ritual by now : the two of you usually showered together, before he tended to any soreness or marks you could end up with. He held you close as you let the warm water pour over your bodies, washed your body and massaged your hair. When you were done, he wrapped you in a towel and handed you a glass of water and some aspirin that you drank while he applied some cream to take care of your sore muscles. He also gently examined the couple of bruised he had caused, kneeling in front of you to inspect them. « They’re not as bad as last time. We’re making progress » he softly hummed, causing you to chuckle as you remembered both of your faces when you had discovered the bruising he was referring to, some of which were still faintly visible. If there was one thing you’d learned about your body since you became his sub, it was that you bruised like a peach. He instinctively kissed the bruise on your thigh, causing you to squirm. « Sorry. Habits. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. » he apologized. « No, it’s your beard… Tickles. That’s all. The kiss was ok. Helps the healing, right? » you replied with a slight smile. He nodded and placed another playful kiss there, before proceeding to kiss all of your bruises, making you giggle in the process. He got up and cupped your face before kissing your lips. « Oops. Thought you had a bruise there. Guess it was a shadow » he said innocently. Of course, his charm offensive had you giggling like a schoolgirl, which you knew was the desired outcome. « I’ll leave you to do the whole hair thing and get dressed while I tidy up » he said before placing a last kiss on your temple.

You quickly blowdried your hair and went to put on your pajamas. Before getting dressed, you looked at your naked form in the mirror. You were used to seeing your reflection with hickies, bruises and various marks over your body. The view wasn’t surprising in the least. It had almost become usual in the past months so, most of the time, you weren’t phased by it. You even found it pleasing, in a way. Each mark was a physical reminder of the pleasure he gave you, of how good he made you feel, rewarding your submission with intense orgasms.

This time, though, as you took notice of them, it stirred something deep within you. You traced each one with your finger, wondering what this roadmap of your intense bedroom exertions told of you. You wondered how anyone would perceive them if you suddenly died and your body was to be found the next day. They’d probably peg you for some victim of domestic abuse. Except you weren’t. You had consented to everything that had left these marks. You had given Marshall your explicit, enthusiastic consent to hurt you, and you had enjoyed it. Suddenly, you felt like some sort of hypocrite. There you were, the annoying woman who never shied away from getting on her high horse to defend the cause of women, allowing a man to hurt you. He was your friend, had been for years. And yet, he was the one leaving all these marks, because you allowed him to see your vulnerability. You even served it to him on a silver plater, kneeling for him, surrendering your body and mind. And you liked it. As unsettling as the thought was, you craved it, the feeling of submission.

However, this had you wondering about the shift in your relationship. The friendship had been so steady for years and now, there were many changes going on all at once. You were so much more than friends and, usually, you didn’t care that the lines were blurred. You even enjoyed it. But when you really looked at it, the whole thing felt like a complex Venn diagram with layers of friendship, sex, emotional intimacy and power dynamic overlapping each other. Even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to sort it out. But who were you allowing to leave these marks all over you ? Your friend ? Your dom ? The man you slept with ? Or the one who charmed your heart and spirit ? A while ago, you would have been able to give a clear answer. To say that it was your dom who was doing it to you. But now, it was much more complex. Because the power dynamic was bleeding into the friendship, which bled back into the power dynamic, and both were made confusing by the sudden surge of emotional intimacy. And in the middle of it, you had sex, which belonged in all three categories. Marshall was doing it all : bringing physical benefits into your friendship, fucking you senseless as your dom, and making sweet love to you. And now, everything was blurry and unclear. He was the alpha and omega in all of that, carving a space for himself in all the spheres of your life, as dom, lover and friend, but where did that leave you ? What were you to him ? The uncertainty gnawed at you, and even deeper than that, a new fear settled in your chest. Marshall had become such an integral part of your life, so much so that you felt yourself holding your breath when you thought about the possibility of losing him. This space he occupied in your world was huge, almost overwhelming. What happens if it stops? If he decides he doesn’t want this anymore? Or if I can’t handle it?

You didn’t realize you were trembling until there was a gentle knock on the bathroom door. You turned and saw Marshall standing there, visibly wondering what was taking you so long. « Talk to me » he said in a reassuring voice, which felt like an invitation rather than an order. You took a deep breath, trying your best to summon the right words. « It’s all twisted », you said. He looked at you intently, waiting for you to elaborate, but you didn’t quite know how to put it. « What’s twisted, Y/N? » he asked carefully. You nervously gestured at the bruises that covered your naked body. « These. This. The fact that I’m letting a man hurt me. That I want it. I-… There has to be something wrong with me. I must be twisted. I must be messed up. » you blurted out.

Marshall shook his head gently, moving closer but keeping his hands at his sides, as if he was letting you control the space between you. « There’s nothing wrong with you, » he said softly. « Desire isn’t something that fits into neat, ‘normal’ boxes. It’s complex, and it’s different for everyone. It doesn’t make you twisted—it makes you human. » he continued. Though his voice felt like a balm, the other questions remained, as did the need for answers. « But it’s not just that. Because you’re the one I desire, but who are you? We were friends for so long and now we’re… this. But I don’t know what that is. What we are to each other...». He hummed, encouraging you to elaborate. « I know you’re over boxes and neat categories but… Are you my friend ? My dom ? Or something more intimate than those ? » you finally asked. He listened quietly and, when your eyes met his, you were met with a steady and reassuring gaze. « Yeah », he simply said. « So which is it? » you nervously asked, though his calm and reassurance did not waiver. « All of them. What we have… It doesn’t need a label. And I know it’s a bit complex but… It can be whatever we want or need it to be » he said softly. His words were grounding but you still felt the fear beneath it all. « But what if it stops? » you anxiously asked. « Because I’d lose so much. I’d lose my friend, my dom and… more. You’re such a huge part of my life, and I’m scared of what happens if we don’t work, if it becomes too much».

Marshall reached out, carefully grabbing your hand, holding it and stroking it. « I don’t ever want you to feel like this is all or nothing. I’m here because I care about you—deeply. I don’t want to give up our friendship, no matter what happens. If you ever want to go back to that, just as friends, I’ll be here. Or if you want to keep this dynamic, but take sex out of the equation—that’s fine, too. This doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s relationship. We can take our time. We can make it ours. », he assured you. You looked at him, letting his words slowly sink into you. « But what do you want? » you asked. He let out a soft sigh but kept on smiling. « I just told you what I want. I’ll break it down for you : whatever happens, I want us to be friends. That’s what matters most. The power dynamic that’s… that’s what works for me. That’s how I feel comfortable when it comes to intimacy. The rules, the boundaries… They make me feel safe. You know more than anyone that I suck at letting people in. So it’s what works best for me when it comes to being close with someone. Knowing I’m in control helps me navigate my trust issues. We’ve been friends for ages. We were already close. But now we’re closer. Both physically and emotionally, and I like that. But if you’re not comfortable with anything, we adjust. If you only want or need me as a friend, that’s cool. If you need me as your dom, that’s fine too. In whatever way you want. If you want the dynamic to be strictly platonic, no sex, touching kept to a minimum, no kissing, it’s possible too. It’s your choice. »

You sighed and nodded, sort of understanding where he was coming from. However, you couldn’t help but ask one last question. « And if I don’t want things to be platonic but don’t want the dynamic? ». He stared at you intently, rubbing the back of his neck. « That’s not how I work. As much as we’re friends, as comfortable as I am with you, I need structure. But if it’s that important… I guess we could adjust it. Do you want the power exchange to stop? » he asked carefully, and you could sense a hint of nervosity. You shook your head. « I don’t. I like our dynamic. And the rest, too. It’s just… I always thought it was a way to clear the noise in my head. But now, it’s becoming a part of it. Like… I know you said you care about me, and that we can adjust, but… It’s still confusing. Because even if I like it, right now, I don’t know how to address the person in front of me. Sir? Marshall? ». He chuckled and brought you closer to him, affectionately cupping your face. His face had softened and you could see a gentle smile at the corner of his mouth. « Whatever you like, doll. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Honorifics, titles… yeah, they can have a purpose, and they can set a tone, but they don’t change the substance of what we are » he explained.

You looked at him, uncertainty still clouding your eyes. « I just… I don’t want to mess it up, » you murmured. « I want to honor this new part of us, but at the same time, I feel like I’m trying to balance everything we’ve always been, and it’s… confusing ». He nodded in understanding, letting his thumb graze your cheek. His smile grew a little and he finally let out a chuckle. « Look, you can call me Sir when that feels right. You can call me Marshall when we’re just us, talking like this. And for all I care, you can even call me ‘Dumbass’ or ‘Old Man’ like you used to. » His eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief, and a grin broke across his face. « You’ve called me worse over the years, haven’t you? ». A reluctant smile tugged at your lips, a bit of the weight lifting from your shoulders. You thought of the years you’d spent as friends, all the teasing, the playful jabs. You’d called him every name in the book, from “Dumbass” when he’d done something stupid, to « asshole » when he was pissing you off, to “Old Man” whenever he pretended he couldn’t keep up with you. « Yeah, I have », you admitted with a faint chuckle. « See? » he replied, his tone gentle and light. « You’re not any sub, Y/N. You’re much more than that. And regardless of how you choose to call me, it won’t change the substance of what we mean to each other ».

You gave him a smile and couldn’t help but ask one last question, a playful smile tugging at your lips. « So… Does this mean I can call you ‘Dumbass’ and not get punished? » you asked in an innocent voice. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. « Fuck around and find out, princess » he replied with a suggestive smirk. You raised an eyebrow, ready to make a witty reply but he rolled his eyes again pretended to sigh. « You’re impossible. We’re not even done with aftercare and you’re looking for trouble already » he said with a smile. You let out an innocent giggle. « Aren’t we done, though? » you asked with a hint of seriousness. He shook his head and grabbed your hand before pulling you to him. « You know, aftercare is not just for subs. Doms need it too. There’s no need to be self-centered, here » he said with a soft grin. You hummed and looked in his eyes. « What do you need, then, Sir? » you asked in a tone that was both suggestive and reverent. He gave you a grin and led you to the bedroom. « Cuddles » he calmly hummed, as if the answer was evident. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, resisting the urge to tell him that all he needed to do was ask, instead of using the aftercare excuse. You settled in bed and he gestured for you to come into his arms. « Indulge me, will you? » he asked and you couldn’t help but scoff. « Of course. For aftercare’s sake » you said in an innocent, yet sarcastic tone.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and you let yourself melt into his warm embrace. It felt like you fitted there perfectly, as if you were meant to occupy that space into his arms and against his chest. « There we go » he murmured, almost whispering, as he stroked your back in soothing motions. « See? This doesn’t need labels. Just us. That’s what matters most to me ». You smiled against him and hummed, closing your eyes. « That’s nice » you admitted. You let yourself breathe fully, feeling a sense of peace settling in your chest, chasing away the earlier doubts you’d felt. The warmth and steadiness of Marshall’s arms around you made you feel safe in a way words couldn’t fully capture. You let the anxiety you’d felt earlier leave your mind and went back to enjoying the profound feeling of intimacy. Ever since your friendship had become more, you had grown closer and, as weeks had gone by, the cuddling had become more intimate. You could feel it in the way he held you and seemed to relax completely, the way he allowed himself to doze off, keeping you close, face buried in your neck. You let out a contented sigh, relishing in the intense feeling of safety and devotion.

« Thank you, Sir » you whispered in a barely audible voice. You could feel him smile against you, softly humming. « For what? » he asked. « For giving me so much » you tentatively explained, not sure you could actually put your gratitude into words. He hummed again and placed a tender kiss on your neck. « I know it’s a bit confusing for you. But it’s precisely because you’re my friend and my sub that I’m able to relax and put my walls down. I feel safe with you » he explained. « I’m grateful for you ». You turned and looked at him, staring in this blue eyes, seeing nothing but devotion there. In the years you’d known him, you’d learned about his trust issues, but hearing him tell you you made him feel safe when he was the person who made you feel the most secure was emotional. You knew intimacy didn’t come easy for him, even though it sometimes escaped your mind. As if he could read into your mind, he chortled and pulled you closer. « I’m grateful you signed that NDA, too. So you can’t go around and tell everyone I’m soft or whatever. That’d ruin my reputation and everyone would ask for cuddles » he joked. You chuckled and looked at him with a mischievous grin. Even without any NDA, you wouldn’t dream of telling anyone. You liked that he was like this with you, and you didn’t really want to share. « Your secret’s safe with me… Dumbass ».

#eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #eminem fluff #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #eminem kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompts #kinktober

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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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