nothing's better than a beta! (Patreon)

synopsis: you are so sick of alphas. exhausted of being a beta in the background waiting for them to find their soulmate or sink their teeth into some cute omega. you would never be the one they actually chose. so when they won't take the hint and leave you alone, you decide to take matters in your own hands and take a new job post-grad to get away from them. maybe you shouldn't have let them know that though.

pairing: frat bro!alpha x beta!reader x best friend!alpha

wc: 4.9k

content: mdni, plot with porn, fluff/angst, a/b/o dynamics, masturbation, knots, sex toys, fantasizing, mentions of mating bonds/bites, kissing, mutual pining they both think is unrequited, crushes, reader is oblivious at times, avoidant reader, both men are DOWN BADDDDDD, alpha protective/possessiveness

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“I like your perfume.” 

From most people, that was probably a compliment. 

But from the obnoxious alpha who wouldn’t stop leaning over your desk to peek at your notes instead of writing his own during lectures? You were positive it was just some joke you weren’t in on, especially considering you weren’t even wearing perfume.  

What would someone like him want to do with a beta like you? 

You always assumed he was hoping he could still work his saccharinely sweet charm on you to get a better grade in this class. You couldn’t really fathom another reason for him to be so persistently pestering you. 

“Thanks,” you dryly replied, brows furrowed as you attempted to focus on what the professor was going on about. 

Unlike him, you had no room for failure here. 

You needed to pass your finals and graduate next month so you could get a decent job and start paying off your loans. To make enough to afford hopefully a one-bedroom apartment instead of the tiny studio you’d been scraping by in for the past two years.

He asked what it was, but you pretended to not be paying attention to him, keeping yourself facing forward, head fixed in place even when you could feel his breath practically on your shoulder. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He ignored you ignoring him, nudging you with an elbow as you bit the inside of your cheek. 

“Studying,” you murmured quietly, nose wrinkling as you scooted your chair away from him, physically moving it over an inch or two so you wouldn’t have to feel his overbearing presence so much. 

You might not be an omega. Might not get their stupid customs or scenting stuff they loved to treat like some secret club. But most alphas always carried themselves a certain way. The sort of confidence that screamed they were never told no or the general attitude of being incapable of considering things might not go their way. 

“There’s a party-” 

“No thanks,” you interrupted him under your own breath, refusing to look his way as the professor glanced down at his watch and sighed, starting his usual goodbye spiel and offering instructions on what material he recommended reviewing before the finals. 

“But-” 

You tuned out his excuses. 

Chances were he thought he could trade an invite for your meticulously organized notes. Or maybe he was delusional enough to think you’d let him cheat off of you if he smiled at you just right. 

The second class was dismissed, you were out of your seat and slipping between the sea of other students leaving before he could try to convince you to do either.

Not every alpha was awful though. 

Your best friend waiting for you in the hallway was your only reminder of that. One of his arms wrapping around your shoulder and squeezing you against him the second you walked out, his long hair brushing over your shoulder as you let out a soft sigh. 

“Hi, pretty,” he purred, letting go of you after a second as you tried to scold yourself for beginning to blush at the compliment. “Are you hungry?” 

“A little,” you nodded, making yourself smile up at him as his dark eyes crinkled fondly. Letting go of you to drag a fingertip over the goosebumps you hadn’t noticed popped up down your arms. 

“You seem cold,” he commented, peeling off his jacket without hesitation and draping it over your shoulders even when you tried to insist you didn’t need it. 

“I wasn’t done-” Your classmate started up again from behind you, and you felt your mouth twitch down before you even turned. Your best friend beat you to your snarky remark though, his scoff cutting through the air as his broad frame held up the crowd. 

“I’m sorry, were you trying to talk to her?” He scoffed, posturing as he neatly put himself in between you and the other alpha. It would be nice to think he was just being protective. But you knew better.

You were his friend – which meant you were just his. It didn’t matter if it was platonic. He was biologically designed to be possessive. 

“Yeah, her, not you,” he snarled, sharp canines sticking out as you resisted rolling your eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” a soft voice suddenly squeaked, the tension soaring even higher as a short girl squeezed her way in, looking up at your classmate like she wanted him to eat her. Both the alphas reacted, reflexively turning towards her at the same time, listening intently – their natural instincts telling them that an omega was here. 

It overwrote everything else. 

“I came in late to class, did you get the notes?” She asked him, as if he ever brought a laptop or a pencil to class. And okay, yeah, she was hardwired to want to be around them too, to crave their protection and presence, but it was still fucking annoying. 

Your mouth twitched with irritation, slipping away from the scene without offering up yours.

To your surprise though, your best friend was following right behind, ignoring the draw of the girl that could actually give him the things he wanted. 

“That guy’s a dick,” he grumbled, tousling your hair as you belatedly swatted at his hand.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” you muttered back, throwing a look over your shoulder to where the subject of your gossip was still standing. His sharp stare squinting at the two of you together, his jaw tight even when the pretty omega tried to grab his forearm, batting her big does eyes at him, long lashes fluttering just for him to yank his arm away. 

“Has he been bothering you?” He continued, staring down at you with an expression you were struggling to decipher. 

God, you didn’t get what all this competitiveness over nothing was. 

Was it just the fact he felt like another alpha was encroaching on his territory? 

“He was trying to invite me to some party,” you exhaled, shrugging your shoulders apathetically.

“I’ll take you,” he offered, leaning against you, refusing to let there be more than an inch of space at any given moment. “I don’t want to go,” you exhaled, cutting him a look as he threw up his hands like he was giving up. Neither of you were particularly sociable, but the difference was people liked him. Were just naturally drawn to him. It was something invisible he exuded, you supposed. Charisma you hadn’t been born with. The same way you had been born without the special secondary organs they had. 

When you were younger, you used to cry yourself to sleep thinking about it. Wishing you were different. Hating everything that made you a beta because it meant you could never be his. It was just a stupid childhood crush. Craving more than you were meant for.

But you’d given up on it. On him.

Sooner or later, he’d meet some gorgeous omega whose scent he couldn’t resist, and that would be that. He’d sink his teeth into her and never let go. 

“You should though,” you added, making yourself smile up at him and mean it. You didn’t want to hold him back. 

“What’s there for me if you aren’t?” He smoothly asked, winking at you as he held open a door for you to walk through. 

“We’re graduating soon,” you shrugged. “Not gonna be many more of these.” 

“I’ll pass,” he insisted, just as stubborn as you. 

He wouldn’t go to any party without you. 

You never would’ve guessed that you would change your mind. 

But when one of your professors pulled you to the side two days later and told you about a job opportunity post-grad that he thought you’d be perfect for, you were reconsidering once you realized it would mean moving away from here. Away from him.

Maybe it was awful of you to put yourself before him when he spent years including you instead of just abandoning you in favor of a pretty, shiny mate that could actually complete him. You wanted to believe that this would be the best for both of you. 

How could you not be happy anyway that someone saw how hard you were working and actually rewarded you for it? 

He was a fellow beta too, understood what it was like to be overlooked and overworked, setting up a virtual interview for you that same day when you confirmed that you were, of course, interested. 

You couldn’t help your excitement. 

Grateful that you wouldn’t be living off ramen and rice searching for a job for the next few months once the offer came through in your email. But a steady undercurrent of guilt had started as you browsed for apartments in that area instead, knowing that you’d really be on your own if you did this. 

Would he miss you?

Or would he forget the second some omega took your place? 

“You know, um, maybe it wouldn’t be so awful to go to a party,” you proposed to him the next Friday, on the phone as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, picking up a tube of lip gloss and carefully applying it. 

“You want to go to a party?” You could hear his disbelief. 

“It’s our last chance, right?” You asked, glancing behind you at the dress you laid out on your bed. Short. Tight. Nothing like any of the stuff you usually wore. 

But it was hot, and you wanted to feel hot for your final hurrah. 

“I’ll pick you up in ten.” 

He was at your door in eight. 

His mouth fixed in a tight frown when you opened it up in your little dress, his dark eyes only briefly looking down at it before returning to your face. 

“What are you wearing?” He asked, his voice low and deep as you defensively shrugged your shoulders. 

“Does it look bad?” You asked, glancing at yourself. You didn’t think so but-

“No,” he answered a little too quickly, shaking his head as he started taking off his jacket once again and trying to hold it out for you to take. 

“I’m not cold,” you frowned back at him. 

“You might be,” he offered, like he wasn’t just trying to get you to cover up. 

And in his not-so-sly attempt to get you to ask for it when he turned up the air conditioning all the way in his car, looking over at you all expectantly until he pulled up on the street outside a frat house you had never stepped foot inside before. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go watch a movie or something?” He asked, brows knitting together as his warm palm settled on your forearm. “I could take you out somewhere nice for dinner.” 

“I already ate,” you lied, putting your hand on the door handle. “Besides, I want to get drunk for once.” 

He looked at you with rare disapproval, his features deceptively stern despite the way he gave into you anyway. 

A big hand on your back as he guided you inside, nodding along and murmuring short greetings to everyone that tried to talk to him. Never straying from your side as he led you to the kitchen, pouring you a drink as he kept his head on a swivel. Refusing to even entertain the idea of taking a sip of something other than soda, insisting on staying sober to keep an eye on you. 

But no matter how noble his motives were, how much he meant it, it didn’t take long for his presence to be noticed. 

And within a few minutes, people were practically swarming.

A couple classmates at first sliding up to start a conversation about finals, then a few sorority girls, and before you were even halfway through your drink, he was surrounded. Getting edged out of his circle little by little, nudged aside until you were on the other side of the room watching it happen. You couldn’t blame them for wanting his attention. 

You did too. 

A low whistle in your ear turned your head, your brows furrowed before your eyes locked with his. 

“What did I do to earn this pleasure?” Your own classmate purred, his stare dragging down your body. 

“Nothing,” you sarcastically retorted. 

He laughed anyway, his admittedly pretty eyes all glossed over as he leaned down – backing you up against the cold counter. “Why do you hate me?” He abruptly asked, a slight whine to his voice as he caged you in, setting his drink on the counter by you so he could settle his hands on either side of your hips. 

“I don’t hate you,” you offered. You didn’t like him. But you barely thought about him if he wasn’t right in front of you. He was more of an inconvenience. A minor annoyance. 

“Really?” He perked up, and if he had a tail, he most certainly would be wagging it. 

“I don’t really feel anything for you,” you added, and he dramatically placed a palm over his chest, pretending to be wounded. 

“Are you trying to hurt me?” He really whined now, saddling up even closer to you, his chest nearly touching yours as you felt your breath get stuck in your throat. 

“No?” You answered, but it wasn’t quite as steady as you hoped it would sound. “But if you’re hoping I’ll let you cheat off of me on the exam, I-” 

“Jesus. You think I-” He started, just to stop himself like something clicked in his head. “I don’t want to copy your stuff or cheat.” “Uh-huh,” you apathetically answered, trying to peek past him to see if your friend had finished yet, but he just blocked your line of sight with his body. 

“I just wanted to get to know you,” he tried to convince you instead. 

“Why?” You deadpanned, dragging your attention back to him. 

“I like you,” he bluntly replied, leaving you to dumbly blink at him while he continued, “I think you’re cute and smart, and I like the way you-” 

“I’m a beta,” you numbly interrupted him, torn between believing he must not know and asking yourself how the hell he couldn’t know. It was obvious. Did he think you were on suppressants or something? 

He squinted back at you, equally confused as he let out a soft chuckle. 

“I know.” 

Okay. 

Well. 

You had no fucking clue what to do. 

No one had ever confessed their feelings to you. You had gone on a couple dates with other betas, but your best friend always convinced you that they weren’t good enough for you. That you should both be focusing on your school and future careers. 

Besides, alphas didn’t date betas. 

He couldn’t like you. So why was he lying? 

“You can’t really expect me to believe you,” you muttered dismissively, taking a deliberately long drink of your awful beer. “What, is this some bet?” 

A cruel joke him and his friends were trying to play? God, if it meant he’d give it up, you would play along just to get it over with. 

“What? No, I would never-” He stammered, his pretty mouth pursing tightly as he tried to figure out something to say to convince you otherwise.

“I would rather you be honest,” you said even if you weren’t sure he was capable of that, setting your now-empty cup on the counter next to his with a sigh. 

“I honestly like you,” he reiterated. 

And before you could tell him to cut the shit again, he was cupping your cheek, his long fingers splayed out as he slowly slid them into your hair, tilting your head back so your eyes locked with his. As much as you loathed to admit it, there was no deception in them. No shame. Just a strange sincerity despite the drunken haze in them. 

You could push him away. 

Tell him to fuck off. 

But it was hard to say no to attention – let alone the adoring gaze of an alpha. Especially when you had spent years creating excuses to coax yourself into being okay with spending forever in the friend zone. 

So when his lips pressed against yours, you let him. 

Returned the kiss when he sucked softly on your lower lip, those sharp teeth teasingly nipping as his chest pressed against yours. He tasted like cotton candy chapstick. Had he even taken a single sip of his own beer? 

His tongue slipped inside your mouth like this was always meant to happen though, casually tracing over your teeth and taking his time exploring it as you wondered when the gotcha! moment would come. 

Would someone snap a photo? Would he stop at the first snicker? 

You weren’t touching him. Hands awkwardly hanging by your side until his free hand grabbed your wrist and put it on his own waist. 

He broke the kiss, pulled away to suck in a breath, and you figured that would be it. 

But then he started trailing kisses across your face, soft lips pressing a long line down your jaw to your throat, pausing right above your collarbone where you assumed he would one day claim an omega as his mate. 

“Can we go back to my room?” He asked, and you were numbly nodding along. Letting him lace his fingers through yours and tug you through the crowd and up the stairs to a quieter floor. 

It was petty. 

But you kind of wanted your best friend to panic. To miss you and wonder where the hell you went while he was entertaining other people. 

You weren’t actually mad or upset about it, but was it so terrible to want him to be the tiniest bit jealous? 

To your surprise, his room was actually pretty neatly kept. No clothes scattering across the floor. His books neatly stacked on his desk. His bed was even made, pillows fluffed and plain comforter folded over. 

He didn’t try to take your dress off or start greedily groping with you. Instead, you got a stiff walk-through of his stuff, sitting on the edge of his bed and slipping your heels off while he explained that he doesn’t actually bring girls back here often. 

Bullshit. 

You still nodded anyway. 

Anything that happened tonight would just be for tonight.

“Can you like, pinch me?” He asked, his leg bouncing as he sat next to you.

You pinched his arm, struggling not to feel a little amused by his behavior as he smiled at you.

“So, um, do you have plans after graduation?” He questioned, maybe trying to make the thick tension in the air less awkward as you nodded. 

“I actually just got a job lined up,” you told him, relieved that you could actually tell someone about it. That you could be proud of yourself without worrying about his feelings. You rambled for a minute about how your professor set it up for you, talking with your hands as he actually listened. “I’ll have to move, but I think it’ll be a good fit.” 

“Oh,” he flinched. Freezing, his shoulders going stiff as he stared at you. “Move?” 

“It’s a few hours away,” you hummed, unable to hide your smile thinking about it. “I should be able to afford a decent place too.” 

“That’s, uh, great,” he murmured, giving you a familiar grin as he scooted closer. “I’m happy for you.” 

“Thanks,” you swallowed hard as his hand reached out again, fingers grazing against your chin to tilt your head back up. 

You could tell he was about to kiss you by the way his gaze drifted down to your lips, which okay, were preemptively parting for him. 

But the door swinging open made both of you recoil, your head snapping around to see your best friend standing in the doorway with a dropped jaw, his dark stare piercing into you as you froze in place. 

“Mind shutting that?” Your classmate condescendingly huffed. “We’re kind of busy here.” 

Your best friend just flat-out ignored him, walking over to you just to scoop you up.

Embarrassment flooded your face as you squirmed in his hold and scoffed at him. “Don’t be ridiculous, I-” 

“I’m taking you home,” he stubbornly said, his voice surprisingly firm even after he obeyed and put you down, snagging your hand instead to pull you behind his broad frame. 

“She wants to be here,” your classmate argued, stepping right up to him like he didn't currently have a thick erection jammed into his jeans.

“She’s drunk,” he hissed back.

You weren’t. 

But he wasn’t backing down. 

And you knew there was no chance he’d ever leave you alone with him. 

“I’ll see you around,” you muttered, waving to your classmate. “Thanks though.”

For treating you like you were more than just a beta. 

Your best friend was softly scolding you on the way out, his nose scrunching up at your new scent, rolling down the windows when you got back into his car when you wouldn’t put his jacket on. 

“Leave you alone for two fucking minutes and he’s all over you,” he muttered under his breath, knuckles practically white against the steering wheel as you felt the wind slip between your fingers. 

“So?” You asked, sighing to yourself as he scoffed. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he grumbled, his usually smooth voice crackling with irritation. 

“I can take care of myself,” you retorted. 

“Why do you need to?” He sharply asked, his foot hitting the brakes a little too hard at the next stop sign. “I can take care of you too.” 

You might’ve pushed it further. 

But you knew that it didn’t matter when he wouldn’t get the chance to take care of you for much longer. Soon enough, you’d be starting over on your own. And he would stay here.

You couldn’t be his other half. 

Besides, once he had a mate, why would he want to care for you? 

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒

“Fuck.” 

Being in love with your best friend was unbearable. 

He knew that better than anyone. 

But what the hell could he do about it when you had made it painfully obvious that you had no interest in any alpha? 

Or well, that’s what he used to think. Until he caught you practically cuddling up to that pathetic prick of a playboy. 

You looked so pretty sitting there though, your slightly swollen lip pushed out waiting for a kiss and your lashes fluttering ever-so-slightly, the memory of it enough to drag another low groan from his throat, his fist pulling down as his cock filled a stupid toy that was no definitely no match for something real. 

He wouldn’t know. 

He was still a virgin. Shutting down all the attempts from omegas and betas and even a few other alphas who literally wanted a bite from him to save himself for you. 

You might not have been made for him. 

But there were moments that he had to wonder if maybe there had been some minor mistake in your creation. That someone or something must have just gotten mixed up and made you a beta instead of his omega. 

Or maybe it was the universe doing him a favor. 

Making sure you’d go under the radar so he could have you all to himself. 

He didn’t care that you were a beta.

It changed nothing for him.

You might not be what he was biologically designed to crave. 

But he craved you just the same. Ached to sink his teeth in your throat and bury his knot in your pussy even if he knew you wouldn’t be able to take it. 

He fucked the toy faster, dreaming it was you, imagining that your warmth while his hips bucked up, his knot swelling as a gravelly hiss ripped from his throat. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he cursed, his brain unhelpfully reminding him of the way you looked at him when you refused to let him come back into your place. Blocking him out as you bid him goodnight, ignoring his attempts to ask how that jerk convinced you to come back to his bedroom before you shut the door in his face. 

You didn’t want to talk about it. 

And he didn’t know how to tell you he couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing anyone because he was convinced it should be him. 

Unable to confess when he knew you well enough to know how you’d react. The way you’d reflexively run away. Cringe and call it ridiculous. 

You wouldn’t think he was serious. 

Maybe provide a list of reasons why the two of you would never work out. Claim that he’d want an omega one day as if he’d spent a single one since the day you met dreaming about anyone other than you. 

The thought of your pout made the thick vein running down his cock pulse, edged closer and closer to a climax as sweat rolled down his forehead. 

If you let him just stick the tip in, would it work? Could he hold himself back in a rut to not hurt you? 

He tried suppressants. Attempted to block his ruts so he wouldn’t be compelled to show up at your door and demand your help through it. 

It had been keeping them at bay. 

Barely.

His doctor kept telling him that he needed to take a break from them. Let his body go through it at least once sooner than later. 

But he couldn’t risk losing you if he let go. Couldn’t predict what he’d do once his heat sunk its claws into him. 

The two of you could sixty-nine, right? 

He could hold your thighs and drag you down onto his face, shoving his tongue in and swirling it around until you were squirming and squealing, the sound muffled by the size of his cock crammed down your throat. 

His knot ballooned, stuffing the toy with just barely enough room to wiggle back out, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. Thick ropes of cum shooting out, the filthy sound of filling it up echoing in his empty room as he threw his head back with a moan of your name. 

The only one that was ever on his tongue.  

He sat there on his bed all sticky and sweaty, begrudgingly slipping his dick back out as his nose scrunched up with exhaustion, setting it on his nightstand knowing he’d have to wash it out as he redressed himself. 

Would you think it was gross? 

Or would you be flattered that you were the only thing he thought about when he fucked a custom-made toy in your favorite color? 

He didn’t get to wonder long before someone was knocking at his door. 

A piece of him hoped it was you.

That maybe you missed him and didn’t like the way the night ended either. 

But he knew better. 

Presuming it was one of his neighbors, irritated at his late-night masturbating and coming to his door to tell him to shut the fuck up. 

He answered anyway, pulling the door open only to find the last person he expected. 

“Can we chat?” 

Your classmate. A fellow alpha and apparent competitor for your affection. 

He stepped to the side so that he wouldn’t see the sex toy still laying out behind him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He grumbled, raking his hand through his long hair as he glared at him. 

That fucking asshole kept trying to rub his scent on you. After all his hard work to make sure you smelled like him, to mark you so other alphas would stay the fuck away from what had belonged to him his entire life. And he was somehow managing to unravel all of it for what? 

Were you a game to him? Did he get some sick pleasure out of pissing him off?

“I need to talk to you about her,” your classmate frowned, folding his arms across his chest. 

“So what? You want a truce?” He scowled, irritated at the idea forming in his head that this jerk was going to ask him to stop cockblocking him. 

“She’s leaving,” he revealed. 

It didn’t compute. 

“What do you-”

“Our professor got her a fucking job hours away from here,” his competitor practically hissed, a vein throbbing across his forehead that he didn’t seem to notice. 

“She would have told me,” he started, shaking his head as he scoffed . 

No. 

Maybe you wouldn’t. 

You knew he would worry. That he might ask you to change your mind. Leave it to you to try and spare his feelings so things wouldn’t be awkward before graduation. 

“Do you want her to move away and never see her again?” He glared, and it struck a fear he didn’t know how to handle. 

Instinctively itching to lock you up in his room and throw away the key. Keep you sealed tight where no one else could even think about stealing you. 

“What do you want?” He heard himself grimace, all those morals he had spent years priding himself on dissolving the longer the image of you packing up a car and driving away lingered in his head. 

“I want her to stay.” 

Well, he supposed maybe they had more in common than he ever considered. 

“How far are you willing to go to keep her?” 

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