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Yuuji was deep into sleep, snoring with his mouth open when he felt the mattress dipped, then came the weight, unmistakably person-shaped settling over him like a blanket that breathed.
Golden eyes cracked open in the dark, brain sluggish with sleep, his instincts almost leading him to punch the figure above him but just in time he was able to register white hair inches from his face and a familiar grin, bare blue eyes met his own, brightening, the only bright color in the dark room.
The corners of the lips were trembling. As if....nervous?
"Gojo...sensei?"
"Hey, Yuuji-kun!" Gojo whispered, way too brightly for whatever hour this was. "Having a good dream? Sorry, sorry, I know it's late—I just got back from my last mission, and, uhh, 'kay, hear me out, even the strongest guy in the world gets tired sometimes. Sounds unbelievable, right?"
He laughed under his breath, the sound not quite landing. "I've got, uh, four hours before the next one. Which is fine. Totally fine. I just—"
Yuuji barely heard him. What he registered instead, underneath the babbling, was scent—thick and close and everywhere, curling into the back of his throat like smoke. Alpha. It should have set every instinct in him on edge.
Two alphas didn't do this. Two alphas weren't supposed to fit like this, weren't supposed to feel anything but the low, simmering urge to posture, to push back, to claim instead of sharing it. Even alpha friends doesn't do that.
"—so this is normal, friends do this—" Gojo was still talking, faster now, words tripping over each other, but Yuuji was somewhere else, thinking about how wrong this should feel and how it didn't.
He'd never told anyone—never even fully let himself think it in daylight—but he loved Satoru's eyes. They are so prettyprettypretty.
But It was the way they looked at him. Too intense. Like Yuuji was the only fixed point in a room that wouldn't stop spinning.
He wondered, distantly, sleepily, if Satoru had any idea he did that. If he knew what his own face gave away when he thought no one was reading it.
"—I don't want to make it weird, I'll just—"
Yuuji blinked up at him, slow, the rest of the sentence dissolving into background noise. Satoru's scent was heavier than his own, more dominant by every measure his body understood—and that should have been a challenge.
Alphas aren't agressive to their alpha friends but if they are too close, it's an instinct to just snarl.
It should've made something in his chest rise up snarling like how Sukuna does everytime Satoru or Fushiguro is too close to Yuuji.
Instead it wrapped around him like heat off a stove, and his body went loose, unguarded, defenseless in a way that made no biological sense at all.
He watched Gojo-sensei blabber nervously above him and sighed, he's too sleepy to assure him. Without a word, he lifted a hand and pressed it against the back of Satoru's head, guiding it down into the crook of his neck.
Satoru went stiff, breath catching, eyes blown wide in the dark like he hadn't actually expected anyone to say yes.
And Yuuji let him stay there—let his own scent rise up quiet and unhurried to meet Satoru's, not retreating from it but curling into it, twining through it the way something wild marks the one den it's decided is safe.
Their scents met somewhere in the space between them, and Yuuji, half-drifting, let his noee sink into those cotton soft hairs inhaling the scent of expensive shampoo, rather than leaning into the norms of the society to fight the alpha.
Satoru smelled like the sky right before a storm breaks—ozone and cold air, something electric underneath it that prickled faintly against his skin. It makes him shiver.
There was a sharpness to it, cedar and something colder, like frost on metal, the kind of scent that announced itself in a room before its owner did. It was the scent of an alpha who'd spent his whole life being the strongest thing in every space he occupied, and it carried that certainty in it—confident, unyielding, a little dangerous even when it wasn't trying to be. Yuuji may not seem like it but he's observant. And he figured out quickly how lonely his Sensei is.
Underneath the sharpness of the scent, though, buried where most people probably never got close enough to notice, was something warmer. Woodsmoke, maybe.
He wrapped his arms around the muscled shoulders, tipping his nose into the pale suction of the neck where the scent was it's heaviest, not noticing Satoru flinch.
Something worn-in and tired, the smell of a person who'd been running on emptiness for a long time and rarely let it show.
He can relate.
Yuuji's own scent was different but similar—heavier in a different direction, something like sun-warmed earth after rain, green and a little sweet( according to todo)
Many said, he doesn't have a scent built to intimidate.
It curled rather than cut, settled rather than struck. But it had weight to it, a low, steady heat, warm and comfortable but burning when he's in anger which is rare and he barely even noticed it. Yuuji has been angry for less than the fingers of a hand in his entire life.
When they mixed, it shouldn't have worked.
Two alpha scents layered together were supposed to grate, supposed to spark that low hum of friction beneath the skin—a wrongness, a call to arms.
Instead the ozone-and-cedar sharpness of Satoru seemed to soften where it touched the warm earth-and-green of Yuuji, like storm air rolling over sun-heated ground, cooling without extinguishing.
And Yuuji's scent didn't rise to challenge it. It spread instead, slow and unhurried, finding every gap in that colder scent and filling it, until the two weren't fighting for dominance at all but folding into something that smelled, unmistakably, like safe.
And alphas never feel safe with each other. Unless they are family.
He and Sensei haven't known each other long enough to be family. Not platonically at least.
Neither of them was awake enough—or honest enough with himself—to name what that meant.
It's too complicated. And Yuuji doesn't do complicated things. He yawned—wide and unselfconscious—and let his eyes fall shut.
"Mmh. Go ahead, sensei," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, one hand settling loose against Satoru's back like it belonged there. "I trust you. Have a great sleep. G'night."
Satoru went stiff—and then, helplessly, he nosed closer, breathing in deep. His eyes fell half-lidded, some tightly wound thing in his shoulders finally loosening.
Alpha scents weren't supposed to feel like this. Weren't supposed to be this comfortable, this warm, this easy to sink into like a bed he'd been missing his whole life without knowing it. It wasn't supposed to be addictive.
Yuuji felt the exhale against his throat and flushed, warmth crawling up his neck that had nothing to do with body heat. "Just—go to sleep," he mumbled, voice thick and a little embarrassed. "I'll cook you breakfast tomorrow."
And just like that, he was out—breathing gone slow and even, completely unbothered, like having the strongest sorcerer alive collapse on top of him in the middle of the night was the most natural thing in the world.
Satoru let himself lie there, fully weighted down, and Yuuji didn't so much as shift under him—didn't strain, didn't complain, just kept breathing steady like carrying the strongest sorcerer alive was nothing at all. Strong, even half-asleep. Satoru huffed a quiet laugh at that.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd let himself be this heavy on another person. The last time he'd let his full weight down—not held back, not braced, not ready to move at the first sign anyone might buckle.
A decade, maybe more, of holding himself just slightly apart from everyone, because everyone was breakable and he wasn't allowed to forget that even for a second.
This didn't feel like that. This felt like freedom.
He shifted, just slightly, until his ear found the steady thrum of Yuuji's heartbeat—calm, unhurried, patient in a way that seeped into him and untangled something behind his ribs he hadn't realized was still knotted.
He closed his eyes, listening to that quiet rhythm, and let a smile settle over his face, unguarded and entirely his own.
"Goodnight, Yuuji."
****
Extra :
Sunlight hadn't even fully broken through the curtains when Satoru's phone buzzed against the nightstand, insistent and shrill. He groaned, reaching for it without lifting his head from where it had ended up, tucked against Yuuji's collarbone, arms still loosely wound around him from the night before.
"Ijichi," he mumbled into the receiver, voice rough with sleep. "This better be good."
It was. Or bad, depending on how you looked at it. Ijichi's voice cracked with the kind of panic reserved for problems that could end very, very badly if the strongest sorcerer in Japan didn't get there in the next hour.
"Gojo-san—" Ijichi's voice came out clipped, breathless, the kind which meant he'd been running.
"A curtain just went up around Shibuya. Four-hundred-meter radius, centered on the Tokyu Department Store. It's already confirmed non-sorcerers can't get out—civilians can walk in, but the barrier won't let them back through. Sorcerers can pass in and out fine, though the windows depend on the individual."
Gojo sat up slightly, some of the sleep-fog burning off. "What?"
"Cell reception's completely dead inside the curtain—some kind of secondary effect. We can't reach anyone in there, and no one inside can reach us. And it's not something we can just tear down. Brute force won't touch it. The only way it comes down is if the caster is taken out."
"Great." Gojo dragged a hand down his face. "So what, are we sending a team in blind?"
"That's the other thing." Ijichi's voice dropped, like he didn't quite believe what he was about to say. "The civilians trapped inside—all of them, spread out along the perimeter—they're saying the same thing. Over and over. 'Bring Gojo Satoru' Every single one of them."
Something cold slid down Gojo's spine, chasing the last of the warmth out of him. He knew what that meant.
"The higher-ups already made the call," Ijichi continued. "They want you to go in alone. Minimize casualties, contain whatever this is before it spreads past the barrier. They're saying every second—"
"Yeah, yeah, I am comi—" Gojo started to sit up.
Just then, One hand curled around his wrist and yanked him right back down.
"Stay," Yuuji mumbled into his neck, voice thick and low, threaded with something that wasn't quite sleep anymore.
His skin was too warm, his scent gone thicker, sweeter, curling insistently around Gojo like it had teeth this time instead of just warmth.
Rut.
Gojo went very still. "You, you are in a rut?"
Yuuji nuzzled against his hand on his cheek, "Yes...it seems so. That's why, don't leave, sensei..."
Satoru swallowed thickly, muting Ijichi's call. Not caring when he's still talking. "Yuuji-kun. Do you, do you know what you're implying right now?"
Yuuji's grip didn't loosen, but something in it softened, turned less instinct and more decision. "I know what I'm saying," he murmured, eyes barely open, voice quiet and certain in a way that cut straight through the sleep-fog.
"My body doesn't do this for anyone else. Never has. It's not fear making me want to be under you, sensei." Honeyed eyes filled with fondness gazed at his stunned blue ones, "It's just—it's because it's you." He looked away, blushing.
Silence. He should be in his way to save the civilians. Execute the curses. That's his duty.
But, but-
He was too transfixed by the honeyed eyes beneath him, his own cheeks flushed, a bead of sweat rolling down his jaw.
Ah. Yuuji had triggered his rut. Which should've been impossible. But it was Yuuji.
Satoru exhaled slowly, something in his chest going tight and warm all at once. Then, without breaking eye contact with the boy underneath him, he lifted the phone back to his ear. Unmuting.
"Ijichi. I'm gonna have to sit this one out."
"G-Gojo-san?! This is a very big issue, I really don't think—"
"I'm busy. My mate is in heat."
There was a strangled noise on the other end that might have been a word, might have just been Ijichi's soul leaving his body. "Your—your WHAT—since WHEN do you have a—"
"My mate, Ijichi."
"Gojo-san-!! WAIT, you can't just—who is your mate, is this—since WHEN—"
"Call Hikari," Satoru said breezily, already reaching to end the call. "He messaged me last night, said he's in Tokyo with Kirara—he can handle whatever's happening over there."
His hand slid beneath Yuuji's shirt, fingers spreading warm against his abdomen, and Yuuji gasped softly, almost whimpering, cheeks going darker than the color of his hairs.
Satoru's eyes narrowed with something dangerous.
"Loop in Nanami and all my students, and Mei Mei—don't forget to tell her I'm covering her fee, I don't need her showing up already annoyed at me."
"And just in case, get Yuki on the line as well. Tell her it's an emergency, tell her it's from me. She'll come."
"B-but—!! It's an order from the higher-ups, Gojo-san can't just—!"
"I don't give a fuck, Ijichi. They didn't when I've spent dedicating almost all of my life into finishing missions, I've finally found some peace? I'm not the only sorceror, ya'know."
He licks Yuuji's ear, smirking when Yuuji covered his own mouth to not let out a sound. He wouldn't have to soon, soon, Satoru will make him scream and moan, crying on his dick.
"Everyone has been lazing around a lot recently, it's time to put their rusty bones into some excercise."
He grinned, caressing the soft lower lip of his now mate before putting his thumb inside that mouth, Yuuji gazed at him with half lidded eyes, licking his thumb, making a shiver ran up Satoru's spine, he chuckled darkly.
"Don't call me until half of the Japan is dead, ijichi."
With that he hung up. Turned the phone off and putting it in vibration, he tossed it somewhere off the edge of the bed without looking, and turned his full attention back down to the boy beneath him.
So flushed, warm, watching him with an openness that made something ancient and possessive settle low and satisfied in Gojo's chest.
"Well," he said softly, easing himself over Yuuji properly now, blue eyes gone dark and unbearably intent, "guess I'm all yours this morning."
Gojo Satoru, the strongest, has found his soulmate. And so, he doesn't give a fuck about the world anymore. Atleast when he's with Yuuji. Hehe.