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Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Tokyo – 2017

A finger was poking his cheek. It poked again and again until he lifted the comforter and pulled it over his head, hiding from the insistent finger. Of course that wasn’t enough to stop it, and that finger turned into a hand that shook his shoulder. 

“Wake up,” the high-pitched but serious voice said, continuing its determined shaking, set on ruining Gojo Satoru’s sleep. “I’m going to be late.”

Gojo peeled the covers away from his head, huffing as if it took great effort and looked up at the serious face staring down at him. The child was frowning, his dark blue eyes staring at Gojo, his black hair brushed out in its normal wild style– so much like Gojo’s own. The child was dressed in his school uniform and now, seeing Gojo was awake, he placed his hands on his hips, waiting.

“I don’t know, Megumi, I don’t feel so good,” Gojo faked a few coughs for good measure. Megumi didn’t seem convinced, his frown deepening. Always such a serious child that one. 

Gojo’s hand snaked out to grab onto Megumi’s little body, tugging him into the bed before tucking them under the covers together. 

Megumi tried to wriggle away, “you’re gonna wrinkle my uniform!” he sternly whined as Gojo dragged him closer, hugging him tight and smelling that distinctly baby smell that only kids 6 and under could have.

“I think I’m sick. We should just stay home today and watch movies all day long.” Megumi stopped his struggle to look seriously at Gojo, tilting his head slightly as if to weigh the truth of his words. He must have deemed it worth investigating because in the next moment, he lifted his little hand and placed it on Gojo’s forehead. His brows furrowed as he thought, and Gojo had to fight the silly grin that threatened to come out. Instead, he pursed his lips and pretended to be as serious as his son. 

After a second, Megumi let out an exasperated breath that sounded way too exhausted for a 6-year-old, and said “You’re not sick, get up .” And to emphasize his point, Megumi crawled out from under the comforter and pulled it back to uncover Gojo. Next, Megumi walked over to the blackout curtains and pulled them back to let the sunlight in. 

“So bright!” Gojo exclaimed, squinting his eyes at the sudden influx of light, trying to gain some sympathy from Megumi, but he simply walked out the bedroom door. Left with no choice, Gojo dragged his body out of bed and walked to his closet to pick out his suit for the day. 

He applied his skincare, brushed his hair, got dressed, put his rectangular sunglasses on, put two scent patches over his glands, and pulled the entire look together with a spritz of cologne (which acted as an anti-pheromone measure).

After he was ready and dressed, Gojo walked out of his bedroom, down the hall, and into the large kitchen. Megumi was sitting at the island on a hightop, waiting for Gojo, his backpack on the floor by the legs of the chair. Gojo strode over to the fridge and put Megumi’s breakfast together. He waited until Megumi started eating before he strode over and made himself a sweetened coffee, taking his daily suppressants with his first gulp.

The two pills were large and coated his tongue in a bitter taste before he was able to wash the flavor away. But no matter how much his face grimaced as he took his supplements each and every morning, as he had been since he first presented at 14, Gojo couldn’t bring himself to ever skip a day. 

It was only the combo of his suppressants, cologne, and scent patches– a rigorous routine– that let him live the life he had. 

“I should be able to finish early today so I may be able to pick you up from school, Megumi.”

“Really?” Megumi pushed his finished plates toward Gojo, who rinsed and placed it in the sink. 

“Yup,” Gojo walked towards the entrance, kneeling down to put his shoes on. 

When Megumi sat on the floor to put his own, Gojo reached over to tie the laces but Megumi pulled his feet back and spun out of Gojo’s reach. 

“I can do it.” 

Gojo watched as Megumi struggled but eventually succeeded in tying his shoe. He was so serious, so good at faking that he was a grown-up that it tugged on Gojo’s heart. Leaving Megumi to his own devices, Gojo put his jacket on, grabbed his keys and briefcase and stood at the elevator, waiting for his son to follow. 

As he did every morning, Gojo sniffed his son to ensure that their morning snuggles hadn’t resulted in Megumi smelling like an Omega himself. A few pheromones were fine, they could pin that on a nanny. But there was a limit to people’s understandings. There was always a limit.

But as always, Megumi smelled more like his baby self than anything. Gojo fought the urge to bury his nose in that wild dark hair– or worse, try to scent him– as he called the private elevator, which opened right into their apartment and could only be accessed by a certain keycard. 

As they waited, Gojo pulled out his phone to check if he had any missed calls or messages when he felt something tug on his hand. Subtly looking down, Gojo saw Megumi had slipped his hand into Gojo’s, but was staring straight ahead with a slight furrow to his brow, as if he didn’t realize what he was doing. Gojo didn’t call it out, afraid that making Megumi feel like the kid he was would cause him to withdraw. 

But as the elevator doors opened into the garage, he did give Megumi’s hand a squeeze, which was quickly returned. 

***

"Our report for the fiscal year of the European Branch of Gojo Enterprises, tech division, has been finalized. The financial performance continues on a positive trajectory with a 15% increase in revenue over the last quarter, primarily driven by strong demand for our latest tech innovations in the region.”  

From the head of the long conference table he sat at, Gojo watched as one of Mei Mei’s finance team slackies ran through the latest projectiles and data for that year and the next for his family’s company, Gojo Enterprises. The company was a leader in the tech division– cell phones, television, wifi– across Eastern Asia, the Americas, and even some European countries. Of course Gojo Enterprises wasn’t limited to tech, it also dealt in real estate and transportation. 

Nothing was too big for the Gojo Clan, a family that had been building its power for generations– not only financially, but physically. 

The Gojo clan was entirely made up of dominant Alphas and their submissive Beta partners, no Omegas were allowed in the family and none were allowed to have power– that is, until Gojo at least. Not that anyone knew he was an Omega, that was a secret his parents kept close and guarded with a passion. Not for Gojo’s sake, in case anyone ever misunderstood their situation, no, the only reason they guarded Gojo’s secret was so that his father didn’t lose his position of power to Gojo’s Beta uncle. 

It was all very political and rather blah, in Gojo’s opinion. 

As the son of a dominant Alpha/Beta pairing, who was also the Gojo Clan’s heir, Gojo was treated as the treasure for the first 14 years of his life. His father was serious but dotting, wanting to constantly show Gojo the “ropes.” 

Of course those “ropes” entailed skipping school to attend business meetings, some of which went late into the night and would result in Omega “visitors” coming to entertain his father’s clients. 

He had always been too young, so when night would fall and a light knock would sound on the conference room’s door, Gojo’s father would allow him to see the Omegas led in before he was escorted out. 

The image of their bodies moving slowly and seductively in silks and metallics would sear its way into his brain, behind his eyelids. 

Gojo didn’t know why. Didn’t know why he would get so mesmerized by the way they moved. By the way they smiled softly at his father and their guests. Didn’t know why he would then get so sad when his father would meet Gojo in the car to drive back home, only to spend the entire car ride berating the same people he would beckon into the room with a wide smile. 

Weak. 

Whores. 

Nothing but second-class citizens.

He would then turn to Gojo and tell him, “You’re lucky you can’t fully scent pheromones yet. You don’t have to suffer through their disgustingly sweet scent.”

It wasn’t until Gojo turned 14, when his father finally let him sit in on what happened with those Omegas. That he sat in his chair, hands together in his lab as he tracked the movements of everyone in the room. 

Of the Omega who crawled on the conference room table and slowly started taking off her clothes. Of the Omegas who would crawl into the laps and under the table, around the laughing, pink-cheeked Alphas. Of his father who simply had an Omega sit next to him on the floor as he pet their head. 

Gojo could feel a heat fill the room. He remembers feeling nauseous. He remembers an Omega coming up to him and telling him how pretty he was. He remembers smelling something sweet. And then musky. And then feeling like it was all too much. 

He’d dashed out of the room then, only making it to a trash bin before he started vomiting. 

No one followed him out. No one noticed the tremors take over his body. 

No one noticed the fever that ravaged him that night in bed. Of the pain he felt in his body.

But his father did notice the sweet pheromones that leaked out of newly opened glands. The pink flush to his cheeks. The whimper that escaped his lips when a new wave of pain hit him. 

He didn’t see his father for three months after that. 

But that was a long time ago. 

Now, the whole world believes Gojo is a Beta, one who had married a female Beta– a wife that had died during the childbirth of their only son. 

Now, Gojo was a single dad, forced to pretend to mourn a wife he never even had just so that the elites of Japanese society didn’t try to set him up with their daughters. 

It was stupidly exhausting. 

“So what do you think, hmm?” Mei Mei leaned over and quietly asked Gojo from her spot next to him, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“In terms of whether we should fire the French CMO because of their shit performance this year, or in terms of your immaculate skills putting a presentation together that outlines their demise?” Gojo smirked at Mei Mei and she smiled back.

“Both, obviously. But most importantly I was thinking about my end-of-year bonus.” Gojo laughed. 

Like most Alphas, Mei Mei was incredibly straightforward and blunt. She also happened to be obsessed with money, which made her a good CFO– as long as Gojo paid her well, of course. And he did, pay her more than enough, which is why she’s stayed. 

Gojo also liked Mei Mei because she liked to do her talking with cold hard cash, and not her pheromones. Not feeling the need to use them to make those around her submissive– she only needed her cutthroat personality for that. 

Mei Mei leaned back in her seat, smiling. They both turned their attention back to the presenter who stood at the opposite end of that long conference table. It was almost three o’clock, if this ended quickly, he could make it in time to pick up Megumi– something he rarely got to do with his busy schedule. 

Gojo had wanted to give Megumi something he never had growing up– a sense of family. So he made sure they always had at least one meal a day, usually breakfast, and if they could they’d have dinner together too. But that wasn’t as often because of Gojo’s idiotic “responsibilities.” 

“...We're also leveraging synergies between branches to enhance global operations and mitigate risks amidst evolving market dynamics. Therefore we should be set to see increases across these quadrants for Q1 and Q2 next year.” With that, the presenter folded up his notes and turned the presentation off from where it was projecting behind him. Mei Mei clapped her hands and stood up. 

“Great job team, drinks are on the company card tonight!” She gave Gojo a wink and he smiled, waving his hand in obvious permission. 

With that she led the entire finance team out of the conference room. The marketing and management teams slowly trickled out afterward, leaving only Gojo. 

He checked his phone, 3:20pm. Grabbing his notepads and pens, he quickly ran to his office, informed his secretary to cancel Megumi’s pick-up service and nanny, and to ensure no one bothered Gojo for the rest of the day. All set, Gojo jumped into his car, and turned out of the parking lot, heading to the Kodomo Elementary School to pick up his son. 

***

Kodomo Elementary was known as a school for celebrities’ and other rich affluent types’ children. It was guarded against paparazzi and any other potential threats, and the entire campus was gated, only enterable through a security-guarded gate. As an added bonus, it wasn’t too far from both Gojo’s apartment and office, so luckily he was able to make it before the dismissal. 

After getting through the gate and parking his car, Gojo walked toward the entrance of the school, waiting for the rush of children to come running out. All of which would be getting picked up by their own drivers, nannies, or guardians. Gojo took this quiet opportunity to answer some texts.

The perks of being the boss was that he could just leave at 3pm if he wanted to, but the cons was that the work never ended and normally when he did leave early it just meant he would have to work late into the night from his home office. 

Gojo was just in the middle of responding to something when he heard a voice from behind him, it was deep and velvety with a light musical tone to it, “Okay children, put your shoes on and head on outside.” 

His entire body stiffened. 

He gripped his phone with enough pressure that he felt it would break, and pressed his back into the side of the building, hiding instinctively. 

Why was he here?

Was he here?

Had Gojo finally lost it?

Feeling he was well-hidden enough, Gojo lightly peaked his head around the corner, keeping his body out of sight. His eyes roamed over the loitering and chatting children, frantic to see the owner of that voice, to see if he remembered it correctly or if he’d hallucinated it. But how could he forget it? It still haunted his dreams. 

Finally Gojo’s eyes found their target: there he was, squatting in front of a crying child, comforting them. He looked bigger than before– of course, he did, it’d been over 7 years. He wore his long black hair loose now, with a simple knot holding a few strands back. Gojo’s eyes ate up the sight of the man he hadn’t seen in years.

Geto Suguru. 

As if summoned by Gojo’s thoughts, Geto turned towards where he was hiding. Gojo quickly moved to be completely hidden by the wall, and for good measure, he squatted down low. 

Memories flooded his mind of hidden touches, quiet voices, playful shoves; of feeling safe, feeling content for once in his life; of agony, sorrow, heartbreak, tears coming down so quickly they choked him. 

Of abandonment. 

Rubbing his temples, Gojo tried to come to terms with the idea that his Geto Suguru was here. That they were so close. That he was so different and yet just the same. 

Kind, calm, velvety voice that paired with an intense presence that made you take him a little more seriously than his kind demeanor originally asks for. 

He was just as gorgeous as Gojo remembered, maybe even more so. 

Gojo was lost in his thoughts when a shadow fell over him. His heart stopped, and he felt it crawling up his throat. Trying to suffocate him.

“Why are you hiding?” Gojo looked to the right into a pair of dark blue eyes, set into the face of a serious child. 

Megumi. 

Gojo sighed in relief. Felt his heart thrum through his whole body, but the overall stress of being found out by a certain someone, as if cursed by fate, was gone now. 

Fuck. What was he doing? 

He was a grown man, a father even. 

“Nothing, just resting because you took so long,” Gojo ruffled Megumi’s hair as he stood up. Placing a hand on his son’s shoulders, Gojo led Megumi towards their car as fast as possible, never looking back.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

“So… you saw Geto Suguru while picking Megumi up from school?” A sigh sounded from the other side of the phone, “are you sure you weren’t hallucinating? It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for you.”

“I’m telling you. I would never mistake Suguru for someone else. It was him. But why? How?” Gojo was seated in his office, legs propped on his desk, leaning back in his chair. He’d blocked off his calendar under the guise that he was in an important meeting with the Malaysian branch, which was technically true, but honestly, he just needed the time to freak out. 

After avoiding Megumi’s school for over two weeks, leaving both pickups and drop-offs to the nanny, he was finally being forced, dragged even, back to that school– by a six-year-old no less. 

That morning Gojo had woken up to a hovering child poking his cheek once again, “Dad.” When he opened his eyes Megumi had been staring down at him, “Are you going to be busy late today too?”

“I don’t know,” Gojo had wiped the bleariness out of his eyes, “maybe?”

“So… you’re not going to take me to school again?” Gojo watched Megumi’s serious pout, as he feigned disinterest in a way Gojo was so familiar with. Pair that together with the guilt Gojo felt for not seeing Megumi as much these past few days, there was only one answer he could give. 

“Of course I am, Megumi. I’m actually going to finish really early today, so I’ll be there to pick you up and then we can get something sweet after.” Gojo ruffled Megumi’s hair and softly smiled as Megumi’s pout melted into a neutral expression– which may as well be a smile for that kid. 

So how could he not pick up his son? Especially when he’d spent the rest of the morning chattering about where they should go after school. 

Chattering. Megumi. 

It was worse than he’d thought. Cleary leaving his son alone without a father’s presence had driven him to insanity. 

And yet, something squeezed at Gojo’s heart. 

Which is why now, Gojo was stuck torturing himself and had succumbed to humiliating himself in front of his friend. He’d even tried on three different outfits this morning. Looking down at his pressed, slightly unbuttoned light blue shirt he was currently wearing, he still wasn’t sure it had been the right choice. 

“Geto is simply a teacher at one of the most prestigious elementary schools in Tokyo.” The deep voice from the other side of the phone pulled Gojo back to the present moment. Picking up the paperweight on his desk, Gojo tossed it up and caught it. 

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Nanami, obviously he’s a teacher but why, why this school? Why me .” After a moment, “do you think he still remembers me?”

“You’re whining again, Gojo,” Nanami berated. “And stop pouting.” Gojo smoothed out the pout he had indeed adapted. “Why don’t you just ask him? It’s almost statistically impossible that he’s forgotten you.”

“But does that make it better or… worse? We didn’t exactly leave things on the best note. I left, and he… chose what he did.” As he spoke, Gojo lowered his legs off the desk and sat upright. 

God, he hated getting so serious, so sad. 

It made his barely there pheromones agitated and he reached into his desk for his cologne and spritz it onto himself.

A sigh sounded from the phone, “Gojo, should I come?” 

“No… No. No, you don’t have to do that. I know better than to ask you to put overtime in.” Nanami scoffed. 

“As if I’d count this.” Another sigh, “Don’t think too hard with that brain of yours, Gojo. It’s just a coincidence. It could even be a pleasant coincidence if you don’t act like an idiot. Okay? Now, you’ve complained enough. I have to go do some real work. Tell the kid I say hi.” With that Nanami ended the call. 

Ever to the point. Gojo smiled, glad that at least someone never changed. 

Nanami was right, there was nothing to stress about. He was just going to pick his son up. That’s it. And if he saw a teacher at his son’s school, well that would be that. 

All would be okay. 

Good. 

Fine. 

***

Geto Suguru was enjoying a rare moment of solace. The classroom he occupied was finally quiet as the kids enjoyed their lunch in the cafeteria. A rarity as the carpeted space was normally flush with high-pitched voices, toys, and the straggled attention span of six and seven-year-olds. 

Geto had only been at this elementary school for a month and previously had only ever taught slightly older kids, but he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy the adorable hectic energy of this group. In fact, he had been looking forward to this new job since the opportunity first came to him. 

Up until last year, Geto had been teaching at a different, not nearly as prestigious, elementary school in Tokyo, but when he had heard about this opening through his high school classmate and friend, Haibara, he’d jumped at the chance. Not only was the salary incredible, but he also had the option to bring his own kids for free– allowing him to surpass the entire application process. 

The parents could be stressful, all insisting that their child needed special care, and the academics were rigorous for such a young group (he even had to run a class purely in English for an hour each day), but the overall environment was very welcoming. 

Especially for someone like him.

It also helped that he had immediately hit it off with the principal, another alumnus of his high school, Iori Utahime, who took her time teaching him the ropes. Geto was grateful to be able to live such a peaceful life.

To be able to forget some of the less peaceful moments of his life. Or try to at least.

Geto went back to his notes, readying the afternoon’s lesson, when he was eventually interrupted by the growing sound of children talking and giggling. Smiling Geto stood up and opened the door to the classroom, letting his hoard in. “Hello, children.”

“Hello Geto Sensei,” the symphony of high-pitched voices replied. 

“Let’s all sit together in the middle,” Geto guided the children to the carpet, taking a seat in the chair himself, slightly elevated above those small heads. They all sat down obediently and waited for Geto’s next words. 

Geto watched their little smiling faces– well, most of them were smiling. 

As usual, the little black-haired rugrat named Megumi always looked like he was contemplating the seriousness of life. He was rather quiet, except when he spoke about his dad. In those cases, Megumi would light up, his face almost breaking out into a smile.

Once, when Geto had just started, he had been walking the children to their gym lesson when two of the girls were loudly chit-chatting about their new teacher– him. Geto had chosen to ignore it, as most of their comments were silly, like how long his hair was, or how he had two large piercings. But then one of them went, “He’s the tallest person I’ve ever seen!” 

At that moment, little Megumi who had been nearby had loudly interrupted, “What are you talking about? My dad is way taller. He’s a giant. Taller than everyone else. I’m gonna grow to be just as tall as my dad.” Geto had to work hard to hide the smile that had grown on his face, amused by this child. 

Another time, they had gone around the circle, talking about what their favorite snacks were, as a morning exercise to get the kids settled. As Geto expected, when it got to Megumi’s turn he’d once again praised his dad, “I like the pasta my dad makes, he’s the best cook in the world. He’s been to Italy– that’s where pasta is from.” A pause, “He did burn my dinner yesterday, but that was an accident.”

Now, as the kids sat in a circle, Geto broke them off into pairs and had them try to solve some puzzles, which were actually a secret way to prepare the kids for fractions– not that they were any the wiser. 

Geto walked around the classroom, checking in and helping where he could. When he saw two of the boys struggling, he squatted near them and showed them how to get started. Praising their progress so far. 

As Geto made it to the far side of the room, ready to help two girls who had descended into laughter instead of working on the puzzle, he suddenly heard shouting from behind him. 

“You’re doing it all wrong!”

“Why? It’s more fun this way.”

“Fun? This isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“I don’t think you know what you’re– hey!” 

Geto turned around in time to see Megumi shoving one of the other male students to the ground. Geto sighed, it was Itadori Yuji, a pink-haired spitfire that was probably Megumi’s polar opposite– constantly laughing and bouncing off the wall. 

It constantly surprised Geto that somehow those two were also close friends.

Yuji was moving to stand up when Megumi pushed him again, “Is this fun?” 

“Don’t push me again, or I’m gonna push you!” Itadori replied and Megumi just scoffed– something Geto didn’t realize a kid his age knew how to do yet. Yuji stood up and, without pause, shoved Megumi. “Not fun.”

When it seemed like Megumi was readying himself to retaliate, bringing his two fists up and together, Geto quickly walked over and placed a hand on each of the boys’ shoulders. 

“Megumi. Yuji. Both of you, to opposite sides of the classroom.” Yuji looked up at Geto with big puppy eyes, while Megumi glared at Geto, but they both listened and went to corners on the opposite side of the classroom. The rest of the children went back to their games, and Geto stood, thinking about what his next steps should be. 

He hadn’t had to discipline children at this school yet and was at a bit of a loss as to how severe or light any sort of disciplinary action to these rich (probably slightly spoiled) kids would be. 

Nothing should go wrong if he stepped out and asked Iori about what he should do next, so Geto quickly looked over the working children and called out, “Nanako, look after the class for me while I step out,” when the little girl nodded in reply, Geto left the room and walked down the hall toward Principal Iori’s office. 

Knocking before entering, Geto popped his head in, “Hello? Iori?”

“Come in, come in, Geto,” Iori called out from where she was laboring over the paperwork on her desk. This was how she was, always seemingly stressed. Even now, she barely sparred Geto a glance as she shuffled the papers in front of her. “How can I help you?”

“A boy in my class started a fight; shoved another boy a few times. I have them in a time-out, but since it is the first time something like this happened I just wanted to double check on the rules the school has about that.”

Iori finally looked up, delicately propping her chin on her hand, “A fight? Hmm, normally any kind of violent behavior in children is a reflection of some stress they have in their home life. In this case, I would suggest reaching out to the parents just to let them know. Besides that, it doesn’t sound like anything serious.”

Geto nodded, “Sounds good. Sorry to trouble you, Iori.” She waved this off, and with that Geto left and returned to his classroom. 

***

“Megumi?” Geto called out as all the kids shuffled out of the classroom, leaving for the day. “Let’s walk out together, okay?” Megumi looked like this was the last thing he wanted, but agreed politely, waiting by the door for Geto to catch up. 

They walked side-by-side down the slowly emptying corridor, silent. Geto looked down at that dark head, “Are your parents coming to pick you up?”

A pause, then, “Yeah, my dad is coming to pick me up. Then we’re going to get a snack together, probably something sweet cause my dad likes that stuff.” Then, after a moment, Megumi looked up at Geto, “My dad is really busy.”

Geto smiled down at the kid, “I’m sure he is very busy. It’s great that you get to spend time together anyway.” Megumi’s mouth turned up slightly in an almost smile at that.

“Yeah.” The two walked in silence after that until they reached the front entrance where parents normally came to pick up their kids. “He’s late sometimes,” Megumi stated.

“That’s okay, I’ll wait with you.” The two sat quietly next to each other on a bench nearby. After they had been waiting for nearly ten minutes, Geto asked “Would you like some candy?” Geto knew he shouldn’t be giving a kid in trouble any kind of reward, but he couldn’t help it. Megumi sat next to him so patiently, so well-behaved. 

Megumi looked at him, before politely asking, “Can I have two?” Geto nodded and handed him two, one of which he ate immediately and the other of which he simply held in his hand. 

Geto was getting lost in his thoughts, thinking of the curriculum for tomorrow, next week, next term, when Megumi suddenly jumped out of his seat, “Dad!”

The voice that replied had Geto snapping his neck forward and slowly standing up. Geto had a single thought: THAT’s his dad?

“I know, I know, kid.” A tall, lanky, white-haired man was walking over,” I’m sorry I’m late. Reprimand me in the ca…” He trailed off, finally processing what– who– he was looking at. Up until this moment, Gojo had been looking down at his phone, sending a final text before he got to enjoy his afternoon with his son, but when he looked up, he froze. 

Standing in front of him, looking tall, broad, wearing his hair long and down, was the very person he’d been avoiding these past two weeks.

Megumi ran over until he stood at Gojo’s legs and Gojo subconsciously reached out and ruffled his hair. “Look what I got,” Megumi opened his palm and presented the candy Geto had given him earlier to his dad. Gojo looked down and took it, smiling. Before turning his attention back to Geto, wracking his mind for what to say. His throat dry. 

He was finally building the courage to say hello or how are you or even why are you here? When Gojo picked up a soft scent in the wind. It was smokey, musky, reminiscent of smoldered campfires. It could have been anyone’s scent. But it wasn’t. He knew it wasn’t.

“Satoru… it’s been a while.” Geto smiled. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Slightly Outside Tokyo – 2006

Well, here he was. Standing at the tip of the long winding entrance that was Jujustsu High School. The private boarding school was set against the rich greenery of the Japanese forest, lost to the rest of the world, and yet only a short distance from a bustling Tokyo. As if it had been taking advantage of its private space, the campus was sprawled out on the terrain, occupying most of Geto’s vision as he stood on at the base of the stairs leading to all of it ahead of him, holding nothing but a backpack and small luggage, already dressed in his black, slightly baggy uniform. Unlike his previous school, where the uniforms had been tight and made of cheap polyester, Jujustu High School had already set itself aside as a place for the elite, the uniforms a soft cotton and unique to each student’s preference.

The school was old, mostly made of stone and wood, blending in with its surroundings. Only one building stood higher than the single-story monotony, and it was a round towering building of 3 flights placed off to the right. Of course this didn’t mean the school all stood at the same level, because of its location on a mountainside, the various single-story buildings varied in their height, ensuring that what Geto could see from here was only a small piece of the entire picture.

Having analyzed every roof he could see, Geto wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing right now. The letter he had gotten three weeks ago had told him to be at the front gates today and to wait for a teacher to take him to the student dorms. He’d already been here 25 minutes and was starting to wonder if there was another front gate in this sprawling campus when he heard someone shout his name.

“Geto! Are you Geto Suguru?” A man appeared at the top of the steps in front of him and called out. The man had a short haircut (buzzed on the sides), a trimmed beard, wore his own variation of a black outfit, and had on a pair of small square glasses. All this wasn’t enough to distract Geto from the plush doll the man was holding in his hand, which is why it took him a second to answer.

“Yes? That’s me.”

“Great, that’s great. Let’s go, we’re going to be late for class.” He said that as if it had been him waiting for Geto and not the other way around. 

The man started walking up the path toward the school, before realizing Geto wasn’t following him. That was enough to finally jolt Geto out of his stupor, and he hurriedly ran up the steps and followed the man who had yet to introduce himself. 

The two walked in silence, only the sound of the wind passing through the trees and the natural wildlife occupying the space. It was at this moment, Geto wondered if his “lottery scholarship” to this elite school may have just been part of some elaborate hoax. Besides himself and the man, who may or may not be a professor, there didn’t seem to be another soul on campus.

The two had been walking down the gravel path for 15 minutes, having gone straight and then left, passing nameless buildings, before finally reaching a long stout building that the man simply called “the dorms.” Finally here, there was life.

Geto entered through a large wooden door and was immediately met by a young man who was shaking a vending machine, begging it to give him his can of hot tea. He also wore a black uniform, which was more straight-cut and fitted than Geto’s, and his black hair was short in an almost boyish bowlcut. The thing that struck Geto the most was that even as he shook and hit the vending machine, he was smiling.

“Haibara, that vending machine’s still giving you trouble?” The man next to Geto walked up to the boy, who was probably only slightly younger than Geto if not the same age, and patted him on the shoulder. The boy turned and his smile only grew wider.

“Yaga Sensei! Yeah, every morning we have the same argument, but don’t worry, after a few more shakes it’ll spit out my stuff. It’s just a dance we do,” he laughed before turning to Geto, “Oh a newbie, haven’t had one of those in a longtime. Hey new kid, I’m Yu Haibara, junior.” Haibara inclined his head slightly and gave the vending machine another shake. And wouldn’t you know it, with that final shake, the machine gave out a clunk, indicating that the drink had finally dropped. Victorious, Haibara stuck his arm in the slot and grabbed the hot canned tea.

Trying not to be awkward or overly silent on his first day, he responded, “Geto Suguru, senior.”

“Haibara, I need to get ready for class, where’s Shoko? I need her to take Geto here to class.” The man, Yaga Sensei, asked.

“Oh I heard her say she was going to go outside to smoke.”

“Fuck, again? This girl,” Yaga sighed as if ‘this girl’ was the bane of his existence, “ I’m going to have you show Geto here to his dorm then, it’s room 14, and then I’ll tell Shoko to find you there, Geto.” And with that the gruff teacher was off, leaving Geto in a bit of a daze.

“Alright Geto, follow me, your room isn’t too far from mine, I’m in 8,” Haibara began walking down the long windowed hallway that was to the right of the vending machine. On one side were windows that looked out at the greenery of the campus, and on the other were doors with numbers on them, he was just passing 3 when Haibara turned around and started walking backward.

“This is the guys' dorm, but the girls' dorm is right next door. There aren’t rules about, like, hanging out cross-dorms. The cafeteria is that building over there,” Haibara pointed to a building Geto could see outside the window. It was the nearest building to the dorms, only 20 or so steps outside the front door. “Hey, you’re a pretty big fella. Alpha? I wouldn’t be surprised, this school loves their Alphas. I mean half the funding comes from them.”

Geto stammered an answer, “Actually, no, just a Beta.”

Haibara looked him up and down before going, “oh yeah? Never would have guessed, you got that serious look about you” he laughed and took a sip of his tea, “yeah, me too. Not the being serious part, Being a Beta.” Geto breathed a little easier, he didn’t know many Alphas or Omegas, and it was nice to be around someone who was walking down the same path of life.

“The bathroom is at the end of this hall. Most students live on campus,” Haibara continued, “but there are a few who live off– like the kids who live nearby, or the Omegas. There’s also a Beta who lives off campus, but that’s ‘cause his family’s over in Kyoto, and he can’t stand the whole communal bathroom thing, which, like, fair? So anyway, he lives solo in Harajuku. I’ve actually been to his place. Nice. Anyway, this is your room. Any questions?”

Geto felt like he was in a bit of a daze from all the information, but managed to ask what had been bothering him for a while, “Yeah, what was up with the, um,” not sure how to say it, Geto just pointed to his hand, pretending to be holding something. Thankfully Haibara seemed to understand right away and began laughing.

“Ohhh, Yaga Sensei’s dolls? Yeah man, I wish I knew, he calls them his ‘side project’ but honestly we all thin–”

“Haibara.” A firm, deep voice came from behind Geto, “stop gossiping, we’re going to be late.” Geto turned his head to see a tall blond man with long swept over side bangs walk out of room 9, sullenly looking their way in what could only be described as bored disinterest. He acknowledged Geto with a nod before re-adjusting his hold on his books and turning down the hall toward the exit. 

Haibara just went “Right, See ya!” and gave Geto a wave before dashing after the tall, slim guy. He was probably an Alpha.

Left with nothing else to do, Geto reached out for door 14, turned the handle, and entered what would be his home for the next year, as this school was too far from home, and he couldn’t afford to live off campus. 

The door creaked as it opened, revealing a small room that smelled strongly of dust, giving away its age. The room was all wooden, from the walls, to the bed frame that was in the right corner, and the desk which was right near the door to the left. This school truly was fancy: the bed was already made with black sheets, the desk was filled to the brim with untouched books and pens (upon closer inspection, Geto could see that everything already had his name written on it), and there was a bag in the corner labeled “laundry” with instructions on how to call the cleaning service to pick it up.

Just… wow.

Geto had just set his bags down and was investigating the books on the– his – desk, when he heard someone knock on the frame of the door. Turning he saw a short girl leaning against the door frame, her fist still raised near her head as if she was going to knock on the inner side of the door frame again. She had a short brown bob, bangs, light bags under her eyes as if she stayed up late each night, and was dressed in her own iteration of the black uniform (a skirt with a blazer-type top). She held a half-lit cigarette in her mouth, watching him.

“Hi, I’m Geto Suguru.” After a pause, “a senior.” He forced a smile and held out a hand, which the girl firmly grabbed, before giving her own introduction, “ Shoko Ieiri, ditto,” with that she let go of his hand and turned to walk out, slipping her hands into the pockets of her skirt. Yeah, there was no doubt what this girl was. Geto eyed her, wondering how an Alpha could come in such a short package, but he bet that if he could sense pheromones, hers would pack a punch.

“Come on,” she ordered impatiently, “let’s go. Grab your books.” Geto ran to his desk, thankful he had looked at his schedule beforehand, as he grabbed the appropriate books to get him through to lunch time and followed Shoko.

***

They had walked for ten or so minutes, Geto trailing after Shoko (allowing her to finish her cigarette and place another, unlit one, in her mouth) before they reached another large, sprawling, single-story wooden building. Shoko went in first and held the door open for him, which he cautiously accepted, before he followed her into the classroom. There were only 12 desks in the classroom (another perk of a fancy school, Geto guessed— not many students). The room was set in three rows of four, all facing a chalkboard and wooden podium. There was a clock above the chalkboard which indicated there were still 10 minutes before class started, given this, there were only 6 people in the room, now 8 including Geto who lingered at the door, and Shoko who strode in and occupied the back right desk. One girl was texting on her phone, another was writing in her notebook, but Geto’s eyes were most drawn by the group of guys who all stood around one desk, chatting and laughing all together. At first, Geto couldn’t see who was sitting in that last seat of the middle row, until one of the boys moved, making to grab something out of his backpack.

Geto blinked. Sitting there was probably one of the prettiest guys Geto had ever seen. He had shockingly white hair that stood up as if the guy constantly ran his fingers through it. He was tall and lanky, as one could tell by the way his legs folded and stretched out from under the desk. His uniform seemed straight-cut and perfectly fitted. And he wore a pair of almost opaque black, circular, sunglasses as if he could care less about societal rules deeming people who wore glasses indoors either hungover or assholes. 

The guy had a small smirk on his face as if he was listening to the chatter around him but only found the presence of the guys slightly amusing. Geto knew he had been staring for a while but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He was only shocked out of his stupor when one of the standing guys said, “Hey! Aren’t you that new scholarship kid?” All eyes turned to Geto, including the white-haired boy’s, and although he was wearing those glasses, Geto got a shock as if he were staring right into his eyes.

The same boy sneered again, “Did they forget to send you the uniform guidelines?”

“No, they did?” Geto responded, confused.

“Oh, I just thought you were wearing some temporary hand-me-downs. But if that’s what makes you feel comfortable, good on you.” The group laughed at this, and the white haired boy turned away, clearly completely uninterested in Geto.

He sighed. Geto saw how this was going to be, an “Us vs the Poor Kid” kind of thing. He’d done that before. His parents weren’t rich by any means, his mom was a seamstress and his dad a shoemaker. Both Betas, both hardworking, and both loved him deeply– and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. But all of that is to say, he’d dealt with the teasing and the bullies before, especially in his last school, where all his clothes were clearly homemade. Geto was ready to say something back to the snide kid, when a hand suddenly came to rest on his shoulder.

“Time for class everyone, grab your seats,” Yaga Sensei pushed Geto forward toward the one remaining seat in the room, right in front of those snobbish students. “Since I’m sure you all noticed, we have a new student in class. Let's go around and quickly introduce ourselves.”

Thus everyone went around and stated their names and second gender. Almost everyone was a Beta except for Shoko and one petite Omega girl, who sat next to Geto and as far away from Shoko as possible. Geto didn’t really process anyone’s name as he tried to get his anger under control. He was taken out of his spiraling thoughts when it was white-haired boy’s turn. 

The boy remained in his sprawled position, even going so far as taking a lollipop out, swirling it in his mouth. It was clear he was popular, by the way everyone looked at him in anticipation when his turn came up, even though they all already knew what he was going to say.

“Gojo Satoru, Beta,” a pause, “at least for now.” He said the last bit with a smirk, and now Geto knew why everyone flocked to him like flies. 

Gojo, as in, Gojo Enterprises, as in one of the largest corporations in Japan. They had major branches in tech, media, news– they were even one of the most popular cell phone and TV brands out there right now! Not only that, they were a well-known dominant Alpha family, never even sullying their bloodline with recessive Alphas or Omegas. They were only dominant Alphas and their dominant Alpha, or Beta, wives. 

No wonder Gojo acted like such a cocky brat.

Geto was still on this train of thought, when he felt something hit him from the back of the head. He looked down and saw a pink eraser, and looked back to see that same dickish kid who had called him out earlier for his uniform. The kid smirked, faking concern as he said, “oops, sorry about that. I dropped it, mind giving it back to me?” Geto grabbed the eraser and handed it back to the kid, before looking over at Gojo, who was pretending he’d seen nothing.

Okay then, Geto understood his role well enough. If he wanted to keep his scholarship, there wasn’t much he could do, except ignore and avoid– not that he liked it.

***

Geto had been at Jujutsu High for 3 weeks now and while he’d fallen into an easy routine– waking up, calling his parents, chatting with Haibara and even getting along with the serious blond man (who he learned was named Nanami Kento, and who was indeed an Alpha), all while going to class before coming back to his dorm to study until dinner time. 

In that time Geto learned a few things: that the showers ran cold when you set the faucet to hot and vice versa; that Yaga Sensei always had a plush doll in his hand; that this Jujutsu High School had a sister school in Kyoto; and that Gojo was a spoiled brat who’s harem of fanboys absolutely hated Geto.

Gojo never exchanged words with Geto, simply smirking, or leaving a room once he entered it as if just the sight of a poor student like Geto was too much for his sensitive aristocratic blood. The rest of the students in their class slobbered over Gojo, asking him about his family, his company, when he thought he would present as an Alpha, and so on. Gojo would just laugh and say something vague like, “They’re doing fine, thank you for asking,” “The company is always expanding,” and the ever-elusive “you never know.”

Unfortunately, while Gojo was one of the few students who lived off campus, his lack of presence on campus didn’t mean his harem ever left Geto alone, finding subtle ways to constantly mess with him. 

Sometimes he’d find writing on his desk (things like “village rat,” “monkey” or “Beta bastard” which really made no sense since the majority of their class were Betas), other times he’d get paper or erasers thrown at his head while Yaga Sensei wasn’t looking. Other times he’d find gum on his dorm room door handle, or silly little “hit me” notes tapped to his back. 

Boys really weren’t the most creative bunch, huh. 

One time he’d been walking with Haibara back from the cafeteria, one of the few times they were without Nanami. As much as Geto hated to admit it, as an Alpha, when Nanami was around it meant that the cowardly Betas who normally bullied Geto would leave him alone.

The best thing about Nanami was not only that he acted as an anti-bully force field, but that he didn’t act as an Alpha at all. Before coming to this school, Geto didn’t really know anyone who wasn’t a Beta, and while Alphas (and their cocky, dominating personalities) didn’t make him uncomfortable per se, he still wasn’t used to them. Which is why Nanami had quickly grown on Geto these past few weeks– even if he was normally pretty quiet.

Now, without Nanami, Haibara and Geto were walking to the cafeteria for dinner after a late class and Geto was adjusting his bag on his shoulder for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, all while listening to Haibara talk about a show he was watching. Some kind of drama, Geto wasn’t really paying attention. 

The weight on his shoulder was almost causing his entire arm to go numb. Which was… odd. He didn’t have any more books than usual.

Geto paused, took his bag off his shoulder and looked inside only to find that all his books were gone and that the bag was filled to the brim with rocks. 

Rocks? 

Dropping the heavy bag to the floor, Geto managed a quick “be right back” before he was sprinting back up the path toward the classroom.

In the classroom, Geto was checking under, over, in, behind, in front of his desk and anywhere else he could think of. 

Nothing. 

Haibara was calling out from behind him, “What’s up dude? You just ran like you were on fire!”

“My textbooks, my fuc—, argh! I can’t find them anywhere.” Geto was looking in the entryway locker in case someone put them there, of course that didn’t explain the—

“Yo Geto, did you know you have rocks in your bag?” Geto was too busy looking out the window closest to him to answer. It was fairly small, but it gave him a clear view of the garden behind the building, and subsequently the fountain, which in the dimming light Geto could just make out something on the ledge. Fuck. 

Geto ran toward the front door, slamming into Nanami who muttered, “What are you both doing at the classroom facilities this late in the day?”

“Not now Nanami, we’re hunting down Geto’s stuff!” Geto barely registered what Haibara was saying as he ran out the door and wrapped around the building until he got to that crevice of a garden and its sputtering fountain. Geto couldn’t even pause in shock at the sight of his textbooks, wallet, and phone sitting at the bottom of the shallow fountain. 

Geto ran forward and dropped to his knees, sloshing his hands into the cold water and grabbing everything, hauling it into the grass next to him. He was just about to reach for the last book, when a hand beat him to it. Nanami silently picked the soaked textbook up and handed it to Geto. Then he bent down and picked up everything Geto had tossed out of the water in his hurry to just get them all out of the water. Haibara was there too, he picked up Geto’s flip phone, feigning that he was opening it and taking a call, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work anymore.”

Nanami glared at him but Geto just huffed a laugh, who thought like that? 

Clearly used to being the only sane mind of the operation, Nanami grabbed the phone out of Haibara’s hand, handed it to Geto, handed the wet books to Haibara and then said, “Come on, get up. Shoko will lend you her books and her hairdryer. I’m sure we can fix these.” Geto swallowed and then nodded appreciatively. 

Geto was happy to have these two in his life, it made the little things so much easier to deal with. 

Some things aren't worth fighting over, and that’s something Geto lived by, at least until their gym class his fourth week in.

***

“Alright boys,” a whistle blew, “line up!” Geto was in the gymnasium– which was surprisingly modern considering how old the school was, even the floors squeaked with wax film– with the Seniors and Juniors. The girls were running outside today, while the boys played basketball. 

Only in the gym were students allowed to wear something more casual than their regular uniforms and most guys opted for track pants and black t-shirts or hoodies. Geto had a bigger frame than some of his classmates so rather than the track pants and hoodie they all wore, he opted for sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

As Geto’s eyes passed over the rest of his classmates, he realized something: for a school that let you customize everything, they were all dressed eerily similar. In fact, now that he thought about it, all of the students seemed to design their uniforms to match Gojo, almost as if emulating him, copying him, and becoming him would be enough for him to give them more than a passing glance. 

Even now, Gojo had come in in his slim track pants and hoodie, but immediately started complaining about the heat of the room, which was strange considering they were approaching December and the gymnasium was certainly doing them no favors. 

As soon as Gojo said that and removed his hoodie, their other classmates quickly followed suit, also complaining about the non-existent gym heat. Geto only rolled his eyes from where he was standing, waiting for the gym teacher to split the teams. Since there were 15 guys, and only 5 were needed per team, the coach said they’d play two rounds, and the winning team would play the team sitting out.

As the coach split the teams, he could hear one of the guys talking to Gojo. He may as well have been salivating while the words tumbled out of his mouth, “Gojo, you know my dad’s been financial manager of Gojo Enterprise’s technological division for a while now, and I heard they’re thinking of expanding to Europe now that we’ve got a foothold in the Americas.” 

Gojo just hummed in acknowledgment and pulled at the neck of his T-shirt where Geto could see his skin had taken a light pinkish hue. “So, I’m applying to some colleges in California. Are you also thinking of going to the Americas, to California? You know I hear there’s a lot of-”

Gojo cut him off with an “I have no idea, man” before jogging ahead onto the court to the side coach had assigned to him.

Of course that spurred all his little minions into motion, and of course, Geto was put on the opposite team. 

Thankfully, Geto was actually pretty decent at basketball, having played on his previous school’s team thanks to his considerable height and frame. He dribbled the ball and ran by Gojo’s lackeys, a small smile ghosting his lips when he got a basket within the first few minutes of the game. Sure he couldn’t snap back at his classmates when they made fun of him, but he could at least win this, could at least be a little rough and blame it on the sport.

Geto kept playing, his teammates, which included Haibara, passed the ball to him at every opportunity. And he would take any chance he had to shoot. Every now and then Gojo’s long arm would snake out and somehow snatch the ball right from Geto’s dribble, Gojo would then just lazily bounce the ball before half-hazardly throwing it to another player, whether they were on his team or not. 

It was annoying.

Geto was running down the court, getting ready to shoot again when he suddenly fell to the floor. He was lying there dazed for a second, trying to backtrack, only to realize one of Gojo’s harem on the other team had forced him to the ground with a well placed trip. That same guy was snickering above Geto, offering him a hand up– which Geto ignored. Haibara ran over to ask if he was okay, but Geto just shooed this off too and kept playing. It only got worse as everywhere he went was met by a push, a shove, a trip– as if the opposing team had had it up to here with him doing well. Geto tried to keep pushing through, but it was in the last five minutes of the game that he lost it. 

He was battered and bruised, and Gojo was on him, hand snaking out to steal the ball, and before Geto could think, he shouldered Gojo hard enough that he fell to the ground. It was almost like time stopped. 

Gojo was sprawled on the ground looking up at Geto, and although he normally seemed bored and disinterested, his eyebrows furrowed underneath his sunglasses and a frown overtook his mouth. There was a glisten of sweat to his forehead. 

Gojo jumped up and dusted off his knees, before standing at his full height– just a bit taller than Geto– and said, “What’s your problem?”

Geto was still clutching the basketball, and stepped closer to Gojo, finally done backing off, “What’s your problem?”

“Me? You're the one who shoved me!” Gojo emphasized this by shoving Geto’s shoulder, his breathing labored.

Geto smirked although his eyebrows drew together even more in anger, “What? Spoiled prince not used to playing with the commoners?” Geto took the chance to shove Gojo’s shoulder back.

“As if I’d care enough about you,” it seemed Gojo was ready to say something else, or do something else, both hands rising as if he were going to shove Geto to the ground, when the coach came up to the both of them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders to drag them apart. 

“Geto. Gojo. What do you think you’re doing? This is just a game of basketball, not somewhere for you to hash out your personal issues. Enough now, you’re both done. Hit the showers.”

“But—” Gojo started.

“And when you’re done,” the coach interrupted, “you’re on cleaning duty. You’ll grab all the equipment and return it to the supply closet.”

“What? Coach, how is that– I have to get back home.” Gojo responded. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Lockers… now!”

Geto and Gojo glared at each other for a second before trudging to the locker room to shower and get changed.

***

Geto lugged a giant netted bag filled to the brim with basketballs and was following Gojo, who held his own bag of dirty towels, to wherever this mystery supply closet was, when, not even five minutes into their journey, Gojo grumbled, “this is all your fault.”

“MY fault? How is it my fault?”

“You just had to start a fight with me. You can’t mind your business. I swear all of you are the same, it’s always ‘I’m so nice’ and ‘help me’ before you ask for what you really want.” Gojo grumbled as he kept walking, his long legs covering the distance just a bit faster than Geto.

“That’s rich coming from you. You don’t even pretend to be nice, you let the world know what a spoiled asshole you and your friends are,” Gojo just scoffed at that, before turning right on a road that took them to a small building that was set a little outside the regular campus. Geto now realized it was less of a supply closet and more of a type of supply shed– though that didn’t accurately describe it as it was big enough to hold three of their dorm rooms and then some.

The sun was already beginning to set when they reached the building, and with it the night chill that cooled his freshly showered skin, making him erupt into goosebumps. He looked ahead to see what Gojo was doing, but he was just adjusting the bag of towels on his shoulder as he reached into his back pocket for the keys that the coach had given them. He looked back at where Geto still lagged and tsked, “Can’t you move any faster? For a guy built so big, you sure are slow.” 

Geto changed his pace to a light jog, his feet sliding on the gravel path, calling out “We can’t all be freaking giants!” Gojo was already sliding through the door and striding into the building. He was saying something as he walked deeper into the building, but Geto was too pissed to bother listening to more of his snide comments. 

He was only a few steps into the building when Gojo suddenly turned around and yelled at Geto.

“Wait!” Gojo dropped the bag, his eyes wide as he dashed toward Geto as if he were about to tackle him. Geto tensed his body.

“What?” Geto asked, bringing the balls in front of his body as if to shield himself. He heard the door slam just as Gojo shoved passed him.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck.” Gojo slammed his hand on the door and tried wiggling the handle. He looked at Geto, “There’s no chance you grabbed the keys, is there?” Geto just looked at him.

“No? You didn’t tell me to?”

“Gah! I know, but didn’t you see them hanging from the knob? They even had one of Yaga’s miniature dolls on them!”

“I was too busy trying to catch up to you! Are you going to say this is my fault again? You forgot the keys!”

Gojo tried the knob once more before turning to glare at Geto. They were only a foot apart. This close Geto could see that Gojo’s forehead shined with a light sweat and his cheeks were slightly pinker than his usual pale white complexion. 

The door remained locked.

Turning away from Geto at last, Gojo started walking back to where he abandoned the bag of laundry and muttered, “We’re going to starve to death.” Ok, a little dramatic, thought Geto. But he decided he shouldn’t voice that since Gojo was now pacing the room, muttering “fuck, fuck, fuck” while he pulled at his hair, occasionally stopping to turn back and glare at Geto.

With no other choice Geto picked up the basketballs he’d been tasked with carrying and went to look for where he should drop them off. The supply building was simple, it had a few silver shelves throughout the space, the kind that were lightweight and with circular posts, and wired shelves. Each unit held different things, one had paint buckets, another cleaning chemicals, another some sponges and the likes, another towels and spare sheets. In the corner was some gym equipment, a blue rollable basket filled to the brim with volleyballs, and in the other corner were six washing machines. Geto guessed this is where all the laundry he’d been sending out must get done. 

Geto walked over to where the gym equipment was, dropped the bag onto the floor as is, and then took residence up on the floor, leaning against the wall, trying to relax until someone decided to look for them, or (more likely) for Gojo.

Gojo had dropped the laundry off and had been pacing for the last few minutes when he suddenly stumbled and reached out to catch himself on one of those silver shelves, which he only ended up dragging to the floor with him. Geto watched it all happen in slow motion: the muttering fucks, the trip, the desperate grab for the stability of the shelf only to realize it was anything but stable, and falling down, taking the whole shelf with him.

Geto jumped up and scrambled over to where Gojo should have been. Thankfully that particular shelf only housed clean towels and not chemical solutions like the one next to it. Geto picked the shelf up before dropping to his knees to find Gojo. When he pulled him from the pile of towels he noticed the glasses he always wore were tossed away, his skin was a deep rosy pink, his face was damp, and his pupils were blown wide.

What the fuck?

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

What the fuck? That’s all Geto could think as he stared down at a pliant Gojo, seeing his full face for the first time. Geto already knew he was gorgeous, but seeing it up close, unobscured by those ridiculous glasses, was something else entirely. Gojo’s cheeks were the type of blush pink of sappy love poems, and his lips were the plump red of playboy magazines, but more than that, Gojo’s eyes, framed by long silver lashes, were the type of blue you couldn’t get outside of nature– no matter how hard an artist tried. Geto was sure that the Gojo clan must have thousands of family portraits, but Gojo must be an off-brand caricature in each one. They were the crystal blue of arctic oceans– alive, breathing, possessive, and almost completely engulfed by his blown pupils.

Geto was still staring at Gojo in disbelief, when Gojo blinked once, realized the position he was in and pushed himself out of Geto’s arms, moving into a seated position and scrambling until his back met the wall. 

The two boys stared at each other, Geto in continued disbelief, and Gojo as if he were trying to pull himself together enough to reflect his normal blasé attitude. The problem was that he was breathing so heavily, and he felt so hot, that most of his energy went into not whimpering with every breath. 

He felt too hot, too sensitive, that even the hard cement floor bothered his sensitive skin. But for Gojo that wasn’t the worst part, truly the worst part was how Geto continued to stare at him like an idiot who wanted to say something, but didn’t know what. Gojo put all his effort into keeping his chin up, his eyes clear, and trying not to let his thoughts stray into wondering where his glasses were or how his ass was already slowly leaking– something that seemed to only get worse the more aware he became of the other boy’s intense stare. 

The scent patches on his neck were starting to really irritate him, and he fought the urge to rip them off.

Finally, Geto broke the silence, “So, are you an… Alpha?” Geto changed his position so he was leaning back on his hands as he continued to watch Gojo. No other option made sense to Geto. Actually, none of this made sense to Geto, “Is this your first time presenting like this? I can’t smell pheromones so I don’t really know what’s going on with you guys but… if not, then why wouldn’t you say anything?”

Gojo worked hard to break their eye contact and looked toward the door to his right, “idiot” he muttered. But the word came out more breathless and pathetic than he’d been planning.

“Are you?” Geto asked more persistently from his position, seated seven or so feet in front of Gojo. 

Before Gojo could answer such a stupid question, one that made it so clear to Gojo that Geto must have grown up in a mundane Beta household, in a mundane Beta town, with other mundane Betas, he suddenly felt a surge of heat burst in his stomach, and doubled over as his jaw opened and saliva accumulated in his mouth. He grew even wetter. Unable to suppress it anymore, he let out a soft “ah” at the throbbing… need he felt. 

Geto, shocked by the sudden pain Gojo seemed to be in, shifted from his laid back posture to one where he leaned forward, as if to reach out to Gojo, when Gojo lifted his own hand in Geto’s direction, indicating he needed to stop what he was doing, saying “Stay. Right. There. Don’t… move” each word was punctuated by a breath.

Geto watched as Gojo took a moment to breathe, righting himself, and falling back to once again lean against the cool wall. His eyes blinked slowly as he gazed at the slightly blurry image of Geto, still leaning forward as if he was ready to catch Gojo if he fell over again. 

Just the thought made Gojo laugh.

His laughter quickly died out as he said, “Am I what? An Alpha?” His lips twisted, “That would’ve been easier, right? The great Gojo Clan delivers another dominate fucking Alpha into this world to continue their century-long legacy.” Gojo paused, then, “No.”

“No?” Geto asked, watching a trickle of sweat drip down Gojo’s temple. Watching his chest rise and fall under that black uniform.

“No. I’m not an Alpha,” Gojo just looks at Geto, waiting for it to click. Not even having enough energy to smile sadly at his own ironic life. Geto gets it after a minute, his eyes growing wider, his shoulders slouching in that already well-fitted black top.

“But how? Why are you not more shocked?” Then, “This isn’t your first time…” Geto can’t help but be curious about how everyone’s idolized favorite 'Alpha' was actually… not.

“No, no. I presented when I was 14, and I was dominant, just… not the right kind of dominant.” Gojo tried not to let his mind flashback to what life had been like when he first presented, those first three months of complete isolation, then being locked in his room whenever he couldn’t control his pheromones well enough, the year after of “training” so he could learn to “control” said pheromones, the triad of medication he’s been on to suppress them. The way those same suppressants still weren’t enough, no, aren’t strong enough to suppress his heats completely. Instead just gifting him with chronic headaches.

The way his mother and father look at him the moment he did anything even remotely Omegan. 

The numbness he felt for his own life. 

Gojo felt another burst of need in his body and writhed in pain for a second before it stopped and he sighed, “I knew it was due around now, but normally I get a little warning beforehand and I can grab my suppressants, make it home and ride it out there before it gets too bad. But I didn’t expect you to get us on clean up duty, or to be feeling me up so damned much.” As if remembering whose fault it was that they were in this mess, Gojo arranged his face back into a scowl, and watched Geto from where he lay against the wall. 

“No one knows” Gojo muttered with a frown, almost as an afterthought.

Which was good because Geto’s brain was still mush, piecing everything together. Gojo was an Omega. A dominant Omega. And he was in heat right now. And– wait– who was feeling who up? Geto was about to verbalize this thought when he heard a soft moan come from Gojo, a sound that Geto had never heard before outside of, well, pornography, and one that went right to his dick. 

For the first time ever Geto found himself wondering, and truly wanting to know, what an Omega’s pheromones smell like. 

He watched as Gojo closed his eyes, tilted his face to the ceiling, and let out a small whimper again before his movements turned frantic. 

In a blur of movement, Gojo tried to take his shirt off, his body a mess of wriggling limbs. Gojo fell over in his struggle, his shirt came off, and he watched the other boy with glassy eyes as his cheek pressed to the cold cement floor. It felt good. Cold. 

Gojo’s cheeks had a pink flush that, now that Geto could see it, spread to Gojo’s fairly muscular chest. Honestly if he wasn’t seeing it first hand, he never would have guessed Gojo was an Omega, sure he had that dainty aspect to him, but he fit all the descriptions of a pre-presented Alpha!

Gojo breathed heavily from the floor, using the last bit of his remaining will to watch Geto and try to breathe without moaning. Geto was looking at him softly, in a way that made Gojo hate himself but also made his already soaked pants even wetter. He always hated his heats, but never as much as he did now. He couldn’t stand it, the look in the other boy’s eyes.

“Is there… anything I can do to help? How do I make it so you stop hurting?” Geto slowly moved closer as he asked each question, as if approaching a wild animal. Gojo couldn’t handle it anymore, he could hate himself more in the morning, god he already spent every morning hating himself just a little. He reached out and grabbed Geto by the collar of his uniform and pulled him down until Geto had to brace himself, crouched half over the limp Gojo.

“Touch me? Touch me, please?” Gojo whispered these words like he needed his begging answered, but also like he wasn’t sure he wanted Geto to hear. 

Geto couldn’t say anything. Trying to wrap his head around how… well, how submissive Gojo Satoru had suddenly gotten compared to his normal cocky self. 

Geto could only shake his head as he went to pull away, but Gojo grabbed his hand and pressed it to his sweltering waist. Geto’s breath caught at how dainty Gojo felt under his palm, so breakable, but when he looked at Gojo, he saw that Gojo was avoiding his eyes, looking at the floor instead.

“No, I don’t think I should. You don’t actually want that, Gojo-, ” Geto looked at Gojo, sighed and then tried again, “Satoru, how can I help?” 

Hearing his name, his first name, falling from Geto’s mouth for the first time, in such an intimate way, made Gojo snap back to his senses for just a moment. 

He pushed Geto off him and took a deep breath before trying to sit up again. What was he doing? Asking Geto to touch him . Gojo reprimanded himself. He wasn’t one to let his Omegan instinct get the better of him. To turn him into this.

When he finally managed to get into a sitting position, he muttered “My suppressants. They’re in my bag, in the gym’s changing room. I just,” Gojo tried to stand up only for his knee to give out before he could even get it under him, “need to get out of here.”

“Hey hey hey,” Geto rested his hands on Gojo’s shoulders, stopping his movements, “you’re not going anywhere, not only can’t you, but if you do, you’ll be announcing to every Alpha on campus that Gojo Satoru is in heat, and I know you don’t want that. Not in the state you’re in.” Gojo had to admit that Geto had a point there. 

Watching Gojo’s glassy eyes try to process that logic, Geto realized for the first time in his life how vulnerable Omegas were. He was sure that now if he’d told Gojo that the best course of action was to strip off their clothes, Gojo would have mulled it over and swiftly agreed. 

How could Gojo be so cocky, especially as an heir with so much others wanted, knowing any Alpha could subdue him, hide him away, and impregnate him over and over again.

Gojo hadn’t noticed how Geto’s gaze had turned thoughtful, instead, he had been slowly nodding, again and again, trying to clear his head from the animalistic part of his brain that wanted to grab Geto’s hand and stick those long fingers in his mouth. To taste the sweat and dirt that resided there. To have his fingers push so far in his throat, that Gojo choked. How he wanted to choke on the salty taste of something else. How he wanted Geto to grab his hair and shove into Gojo’s mouth so deep that he had to swallow to take it all and– 

Gojo shook his head to clear his animalistic thoughts. “There’s a small window above the laundry machine, it doesn’t work so you’ll have to break it and be mindful of the glass.” Geto looked behind him at the laundry area and just like Gojo said there was a small window right there. Geto looked around and saw a tool box, he jumped up and ran to it, grabbing a hammer and then a towel from the floor before heading to the window. He looked at Gojo once– who had closed his eyes as if falling asleep, but he was biting his lip so aggressively Geto knew that was not the case– before climbing onto the laundry machine and smashing the window.

As he was out and running toward the main campus and gymnasium, Geto only had one thought circling his mind: Gojo Satoru is a dominant Omega. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Gojo didn’t show up for school the rest of the week. According to his lackeys, he was taken on a sudden business trip out of the country. 

Geto was relieved, it meant Gojo’s secret, what now felt like theirs, was still safe.

Geto spent those three days plus the weekend going over what had happened that Tuesday, again and again. Both during his waking and sleeping hours, he was haunted by a sweaty, pink-hued Gojo. 

He even embarrassingly woke up to a wet spot over the weekend after a particular dream where Gojo had been staring up at him with those blue eyes, undoing Geto’s pants, pulling his zipper down with his teeth. Geto had been sitting on the edge of his bed, Gojo kneeled before him, rubbing his face and lips against Geto’s cock before taking it all the way into the hot, warm, wet space of his mouth, choking as it hit the back of his throat.

It’s safe to say that, now knowing where it was, Geto had run to the supply building early that morning and washed his cum-stained sheets and clothes himself, trying not to remember dream-Gojo’s soft moans and hums.

Of course, Gojo being away from school didn’t mean that the bullies in his year weren’t still bothering Geto, especially that one buzzcut kid who loved taunting him. That boy would throw things at Geto, steal his shoes while he was showering in the dorms, and once even spilled water into his food. All this only ever happened when he was alone or with Haibara, but never if Shoko or Nanami were in the vicinity. Normally Geto would have to force himself to ignore these idiocracies, but this week, he barely had to try– he was almost constantly lost in his own train of thought, enough that even Shoko noticed and asked him if everything was alright. 

Was it?

Geto was still asking himself this question as he walked back to his dorm after dinner that Sunday. Haibara and Nanami were still at the cafeteria, Geto had stated he wasn’t hungry and wanted to turn in early that night, the two had looked at each other before simply nodding. Haibara had even given him a thumbs up and a “Sounds good! Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

Geto was staring at the ground lost in his thought, as he walked back to his room when he heard a cough. He looked up and around, wondering where it came from, when he saw Gojo leaning against a tree a few feet ahead on the path that led to the dorms– almost as if he’d been waiting for someone. 

Gojo coughed again, looking at Geto, then pushing off the tree to stand straighter, “We need to fucking talk.”

“Okay,” Geto dragged the word out, watching as Gojo leaned back against the tree as if unsure if he wanted to maintain his blasé attitude or be domineering in a way only someone raised in an Alpha household could be– needed to be. 

And yet with that don’t-give-a-fuck attitude, Geto could see the way Gojo constantly flinched at every noise, the way he tilted his head slightly as if always double checking they were indeed alone. 

From the tree, “So, does the whole school know?” At Geto’s confused expression, Gojo added, “about… me?”

Geto didn’t even need to pause, “It’s not my secret to tell.”

Gojo hummed, looking at Geto up and down, before pushing off that tree again, “okay,” he whispered as he stuck his hands in his pockets and started striding up the road toward Geto. As he walked over, he maintained eye contact, and as he passed Geto by he softly said, “Thanks.” 

Geto stood there, trying to attach the soft voice to the austere and dominant way Gojo had walked toward him. When he finally turned around to look back and down the path leading toward the entrance, Gojo was already gone. 

***

Monday morning Geto had his nose in his textbook– which was a little waterlogged, but had recovered– when he heard books thunking on the desk next to him and a voice lazily say, “Hey, Suguru.”

Geto looked up and paused, Gojo was here, looking back to his normal smirking laidback self– legs sprawled under his desk, glasses on, hair wild– but this time he was shooting that lazy half grin Geto’s way. Geto turned to look at the desk Gojo normally occupied, and was met with faces that he could only assume matched his own: surprised disbelief. 

He turned back to Gojo, who was now looking at him with a slightly bigger smile, leaning in and conspiratorially whispering “ Who’re you looking for? ” before tilting his chin down to look at him over the rim of his glasses so that Geto had a clear view of those blue eyes. Geto swallowed and looked ahead, unsure what to do. Thankfully Yaga Sensei walked in and started class.

Gojo remained seated next to Geto all day, and the next day, and the day after that– but he didn’t try to make any more small talk. Only ever greeting Geto with a “Suguru” and a nod. 

Geto would go as far as returning the nod, but he was unable to connect this Gojo with the indifferent one from before, the serious one from the previous night, or even with the panting moaning version he had met just last week. 

It seemed Gojo’s goons felt the same way, they would still try to circle around him, and he would still sit with them at lunch (or rather let them sit with him at lunch), but Gojo had gotten even colder now, at least with them. 

Of course this didn’t bode well with the guys, or with Geto.

During the last period of that third day of oddness, things felt tense, but it seemed like only Geto could tell. While the other guys in his year weren’t as open about their “pranks'' on Geto anymore it didn’t mean they stopped. 

Just that morning, he’d come out of the shower to find his towel completely gone, hanging from a tree just outside the hallway window. Meaning Geto had to walk back to his room naked, and while he wasn’t ashamed per se– he was beyond built for a Beta– it still wasn’t fun.

As Yaga Sensei was lecturing on history and various aspects of past wars, Geto could hear some snickering behind him. He ignored it, choosing to focus on his notes, that is, until he saw Gojo’s hand move from the corner of his eye. Geto’s reflex was to shift out of the way in case all this niceness had been Gojo’s way of hammering the last nail in the (unsuspecting) coffin. But once he turned his neck a bit, he saw that Gojo was leaning back in his chair, ever the vision of je ne sais quoi, but his fist had caught something right behind Geto’s head. 

Gojo smiled and turned to someone behind them, “Thanks, I actually needed this,” before turning forward and using the big eraser that had been seconds from connecting with the back of Geto’s head to erase whatever he had been doodling instead of taking notes. 

Gojo glanced Geto’s way and smiled.

The next day Geto beat Gojo to his morning greeting, “Hi Satoru,” Gojo seemed to pause a moment before sitting down in his seat, leaning forward to hide his mouth behind his hand as he looked up and waited for Yaga to call for attendance. But no matter how big his hands were, they could not hide the upturn of his lips, and Geto found himself smiling to match.

***

“Satoru! Wait up,” Geto was running after Gojo the next day after class. Gojo had been walking to the main gates, probably to get picked up by his driver and go home, but he paused and waited for Geto on that gravel road.

“Hey… are you okay?” Gojo’s head tilted a little bit at that question. “You know, after the whole supply building thing.” Geto enunciated supply building, unsure if he should be saying things like “Omega” and “heat” on a school campus where anyone could overhear them. 

Gojo froze before forcing his body back into a casual stance. He leaned back a bit, hands in pockets, and looked at the sky before looking at Geto, and smirking. He leaned in a little so only Geto would hear.

“As if someone as great as me wouldn’t be okay but, yeah... I guess I was lucky you got me my bag with my spare pre-phermoned clothes and my pills in time. I was also lucky my parents hadn’t decided to surprise me at home, otherwise...” With a shrug Gojo turned and started walking away, giving a slight tilt of his head to indicate Geto should follow, which he did. “I feel worse for having you crawl through a small glass-ridden window.” He looked at Geto from the corner of his eyes. Geto recognized Gojo’s need to change the conversation, and followed suit.

“You should feel sorry, I had cuts all over me. I even ran into Yaga on the way back to you. He was holding two of his dolls and I thought he was going to ask me to organize his collection next.” Gojo had been nodding seriously, ready to apologize until he heard that last bit and turned to see Geto smirking at him. Gojo shoved his shoulder. 

“Yeah, you’re real lucky, I heard the tall building on campus is where he houses all of them. I even heard they’re spirits inside each one.”

“I’d believe that.” They both tried to stay serious, before they broke out into laughter.

“But seriously,” Geto pauses on the road, asking again, “are you okay?”

Gojo looked at Geto and kept walking, turning so he walked backward, still facing Geto, “Of course I’m okay, I’m heir to the Gojo Enterprise, I’m single, in my prime, and I’m supposedly the strongest to-be Alpha out there.” With that Gojo laughed and sauntered down the steps.

***

From then on, Gojo and Geto would sit next to each other everyday, have lunch together, and at the end of the day Geto would walk Gojo to the front gates.

There was always an unspoken distance between them, a way Gojo would shift slightly whenever Geto sat too closely, but if you chose to ignore that, you could almost say they were attached at the hip.

And it didn’t bother Geto. Much.  

And despite the peace this strange new routine brought him, Geto hadn’t forgotten his first few weeks at Jujutsu High, nor had the other students. 

The guys who had been bullying him since week one hadn’t stopped bothering him– but at least now they did it a little more subtly and never in front of Gojo. Geto could live with that, it’s not like being bullied was a new concept to him.

Plus, ever since that night Gojo had confronted Geto in the woods, it was like he’d become a new person with a vibrant personality. As if having found someone to trust for the first time, Gojo had taken to opening up to Geto, one story at a time. 

They weren’t overly personal: sometimes they were about company politics, or second gender dynamics, and other times it was about the Gojo clan as an institution. Regardless of what the topic was, Geto listened attentively. 

“So, Gojo Corp, but really the clan in general, has always had two steadfast rules, one,” Gojo lifted his finger, speaking around the bite he had just taken. “The only people allowed to carry the Gojo name are Alphas and their partners. Two, the first Alpha son is always next in line to inherit the clan and company. My father’s older brother would have inherited it if he was an Alpha, but he’s a Beta and I’ve never even met him. He was booted to the Americas when it became clear he would never present. I only found out about him through an old family album in the attic.

“My father inherited the company from his Alpha father, who inherited it from the Alpha Gojo before him. I don’t have any cousins so it’s really just me.”

Geto listened to this from his seat next to Gojo on Geto’s bed. Sitting in private like this was one of the only times that small distance between them truly closed. 

Geto tried not to think too hard on how his bent knee was currently pressed against Gojo’s. 

They had taken to meeting in Geto’s room during their lunch break because Gojo said he felt more at ease away from everyone and that it allowed them to speak freely, without risk of being overheard. “So what happens if someone finds out you’re… not a Beta, will you also be…?”

“Oh I’d be kicked out of the country, probably. That’s what my dad drills into my head anyway. ‘Satoru the Gojo Disgrace and Omega Whore’” Gojo spread his hands in the air as if he was seeing that name in headlights. “I’m already shunned by the people who know the truth anyway. I think I see my parents once every… three months?” Gojo counted those three months on his fingers as if he had to think about it, “but I’m still next in line to inherit since my father is the current leader of the Clan. He doesn’t want to lose his company to someone outside the main family, so as long as I keep my second gender a secret, take medication on time to suppress my pheromones, use these stupid scent blockers– I’m safe. You know, a day in the life of Gojo Satoru.” Gojo said this last bit off-handedly, finishing off the last of his lunch. 

Suddenly, Geto was even more thankful for being born into his family, he knew his parents didn’t care that he was born without an exemplare second gender, but was a Beta like them.

After thinking about it for a second, Geto retorted, “Do you even want to inherit the clan and company?”

“I don’t really think I’ve ever had a choice, but what’s the alternative? Be an Omega nobody? It may sound silly but the Gojo Clan has a ton of power, a ton of influence, who knows what kind of changes I could make in that position? And who knows, maybe even change some backwards rules– or burn the whole place down if that doesn’t work.”

“Yeah,” Geto wasn’t sure if that was exactly the right train of thought but he couldn’t blame Gojo for thinking it. “So you’re just going to keep your true second gender a secret… forever?”

“Yup,” Gojo popped the ‘p’ in a way that would have been annoying if Geto wasn’t preoccupied turning over the entire conversation again and again in his head. There was a pause, a silence that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“It’s a real shame though,” Geto adds after a moment.

“What is?” Gojo jumps off the bed and dusts his hands off, indicating that it was almost time for them to head to their afternoon classes.

“You shine so much better when you're not pretending to be something you're not” Gojo pauses, his face still pointed toward the floor before lifting it and giving Geto a dazzling smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “I’m gorgeous regardless.”

Geto laughed, dusting off his own hands, “Fair.”

***

They were walking down the path toward the front entrance, laughing at their own inside jokes. Geto was trying to speak around his own laughter, “Who even leaves the keys IN the lock when entering somewhere?”

Gojo was howling, “Okay okay newbie, it was an accident! I obviously wasn’t all there, I was so busy trying to get OUT I didn’t think the door would autolock even from the inside! It probably has to do with a senior prank from a few years ago, where they took ALL of Yaga’s plush toys and stuffed them into the supply shed. But they didn’t just stuff them, no they set them up in all sorts of perverse positions, though from what I heard they couldn’t really get them to do anything outside of missionary. So, I’m sure Yaga had the bright idea to make it so no one could enter or exit without a set of keys. That way if anyone tried to pull that prank again, they wouldn’t be able to escape.” Gojo pauses to laugh, lifting his glasses to wipe at his eyes, holding himself up with a hand on Geto’s shoulder, “Well he clearly never thought anyone would be crazy enough to break and crawl out of that tiny window.” 

Gojo looked over at Geto, eyeing him up and down, before adding, “How did you even get through that window? Your shoulders are huge. ” He squeezed Geto’s shoulder as if in emphasis.

Geto laughed before shaking Gojo’s hand off his shoulder as if in mock defiance. They reached the front gate like this, and bid each other a good weekend before splitting ways. Geto was still smiling as he walked back up the hill toward the dorms when hands reached out and yanked him into the gymnasium.

“Hey!” Geto instinctively called out as he was pulled through the doors and tossed to the ground. By the time he’d oriented himself, Geto realized he was surrounded by four guys, and even though it was dark in the gym, he recognized one of them right away– the little buzzcut headed shit who was always throwing and stealing his stuff. “What are you do-”

“Shut it!” One of the boys cried out as they kicked his ribs. Geto cried out in pain.

Agh! Another kick came, and then another. It stopped for a moment when Geto grabbed one of the legs and threw its owner off balance, causing them to fall to the ground. But the ring leader kept talking, kept kicking.

“You think you’re so entitled because you got into our school?” Kick. “You’re just a fucking nobody,” Kick. “And now you think you’re good enough to be hanging out with Gojo?” The rest of the idiot posers kept kicking him, following their leader, and Geto realized it was probably better to worry about protecting his organs until they got tired, or felt they had gotten their so-called point across. Geto tried hard not to make a sound, not to give them the satisfaction, but every now and then a grunt left his lips when he got kicked particularly hard.

“Don’t think you’re something important now, yeah? You piece of shit.” With that the kicking slowed down. When they realized that Geto wasn’t going to get up, wasn’t going to make a fuss and make a move to hit them back, the boys laughed and started to walk away, before their real piece of shit ring leader came back and kicked Geto once more in the jaw, hard enough that he felt his lip bust and blood fill his mouth.

Geto stayed on the floor for another five minutes, hearing their laughter grow distant, allowing himself to catch his breath and calm down. It was okay, it’s not like this was his first time getting hit, this is just how insecure brats were. 

It’s okay.

It’s okay. 

Just like he had in the past, he would push past this. 

Besides, most of the injuries were located on his body, hidden under his uniform so no one had to be the wiser, including Gojo.

With that Geto got up, wincing at each step he took back to his dorm, where he collapsed in his bed, and stayed there, recovering throughout the whole weekend.

***

Gojo had had a surprisingly good weekend: no sign of his parents, and good crisp weather, what more could he ask for? 

Okay, he had sent Geto a text message with a silly little selfie, that Geto hadn’t responded to, which he didn’t have to, they didn’t text often, but something would have been nice.

With a little bounce in his step, Gojo walked up the hill to the classroom, watching the wind rustle the branches of the trees around him, now growing bare to accompany the colder weather. When he got to the classrooms’ building he took off his jacket, left it in the entryway locker and headed to class. From the doorway he could see Geto was already seated, his legs spread wide under the table, his black hair pulled back in that familiar bun, and his eyes reading over the notes in front of him. Gojo pulled up into the seat next to him, “Mornin’ Suguru… You sick or something?” Referring to the black mask Geto was wearing, which somehow seemed to mold so well with his uniform it was like it had been meant to be there all along.

Geto didn’t look over as he answered, “Just getting over a small cold.”

“Let’s have soup at lunch then, to help you feel better.” Geto just hummed in response. And it’s not that Geto was a particularly talkative person, but lately he always made sure to look at Gojo and give him his full attention whenever they spoke, almost never taking his eyes off him. Now he was pointedly looking at his notes. Between this and the missing text response from the weekend, Gojo couldn’t help but keep stealing glances at Geto all throughout their morning classes wondering what was up.

When lunchtime finally arrived Geto slowly got up from his seat and Gojo waited for him. They leisurely walked in the direction of the cafeteria when Geto suddenly turned and began walking toward the direction of his dorm. “Aren’t we gonna grab lunch?” Gojo asked, trailing after him.

“Not hungry.” Geto grumbled as he kept walking.

Now Gojo was a few things– tall, gorgeous, rich– but stupid was not one of those. He reached out and grabbed Geto’s arm, halting him. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Geto muttered trying to shake off the oddly strong Omega,“Seriously.”

“What? I can’t hear you and whatever nonsense you’re saying, also I don’t believe you.” Gojo pulled Geto closer, and while Geto continued to struggle, muttering nonsense, Gojo reached out and pulled his mask down to ask him to say whatever the fuck he wanted to say, when he paused, noticing where Geto’s lip had been split. He pulled Geto closer to inspect it, but with the sudden tug, and no mask to hide his features, Gojo could see the wince that that tug caused Geto.

A pause. “Suguru?” The man in question just avoided eye contact, quiet. Gojo reached with his other hand and prodded Geto’s body, and, as expected, Geto winced.

Gojo breathed through his nose hard enough that his nostrils flared, and, oddly enough, he felt a prickle in them, as he soundlessly lifted Geto’s shirt. He only got it up a few inches before Geto’s hand covered his and pulled the shirt down but that was more than enough. The sight caused Gojo to sharply inhale and lean closer, as if his eyes had deceived him. He slapped Geto’s hand away and lifted the shirt back up, and Geto let him with a sigh. 

From the sides of his rib cages down into the waistband of his pants Geto’s body was molted black, blue, and a slight tinge of yellow-green– indicating this had happened not so long ago. His body was covered in these discolored splotches and Gojo could feel his ears clog, his vision blur, and his hands shake as he slowly lifted his gaze over the rim of his glasses to meet Geto’s, who looked sad but distant from what was on his own body. Gojo immediately turned his anger and sorrow into steel when he saw that look.

“Who did this to you?” Gojo clenched Geto’s shirt in his fist, looking down into the man’s face. 

Silence. 

“ Who did this to you?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Geto murmured.

“What do you mean it doesn’t matter? Tell me who did it.”

“Satoru…”

“Tell. Me.” But Geto remained silent, never meeting Gojo’s eyes. He couldn’t– wouldn’t– face him, and really that was the only answer Gojo needed, he turned heel and ran.

Geto called out as he watched that white head move farther and farther away, “Satoru, where are you going?” Gojo ignored him, two could play this fucked up quiet game. “Satoru! Please!”

But it was too late for pleases, Gojo had some unfinished business with the leeches who called themselves his “friends.” 

Geto just stood there in the cold, only now realizing he had forgotten to grab his coat on the way out of the classroom– they both had. With that some sense came back to him and he sprinted after Gojo. By the time he made it through the heavy double doors, past the line of vending machines, and into the main cafeteria, everything was already so loud. 

In the center of the simple cafeteria was a circle of students, screaming and yelling at something going on in the middle. Geto turned right and ran towards that circle, pushing through the bodies– how can such a small school still have so many students blocking his way?? He finally bumped into one he knew. 

“Hey, what happened?” Geto could only hope his guess was wrong.

Haibara looked up at Geto, “No idea! Gojo was just walking through the cafeteria, then he grabbed this senior by the collar– you know the one, in your year with the buzzcut– grabbed him by the collar and threw him to the floor before jumping on top of him and beating the shit out of him. I haven’t seen anything since. It was crazy!”

Geto looked back at the circle and pushed through with renewed vigor, he made it through just in time to see Gojo take a punch before returning his own fist to the boy under him– the asshole ring leader who had beaten the shit out of Geto just last week. Gojo was breathing down at the boy, his fist covered in blood, his nose bloody, when he spoke in a condescendingly sweet voice, “Are you cryin’?” 

Gojo hit the boy across the face once more, and asked again, the teasing tone gone from his voice, just pure venom as he asked again, “Are you fucking crying?”

The boy looked up through tear stricken eyes, whimpering in pain. Gojo snorted in disbelief  before he began punching him again, and again, and again. 

Before Geto could jump in to break up the fight, Yaga Sensei beat him to it and grabbed Gojo by the back of the neck, yanking him up, and leaning down to grab the other boy. All he said was, “Both of you, my office. The rest of you, go back to your rooms.”

Geto watched as everyone trickled out and Yaga dragged Gojo away.

***

“Were you waiting for me this whole time, you big baby” Gojo bounced toward Geto as soon as he saw him, and now he playfully shoved Geto with his shoulder as he asked the question.

“Yeah, yeah, I was worried sick,” Geto deadpanned, walking but watching Gojo, already noticing that he had dried blood smudged under his nose and that his jaw was a little pinker than the rest of his face– no doubt the spot of a future bruise.

“Yeah, well you should see the other guy. He was spitting blood the whole time we were in Yaga’s office,” Gojo laughed at this, maintaining his bouncing steps. As they neared the split in the road that takes you toward the dorms or the main gate, Geto grabbed Gojo’s arm and led him toward the left– towards the dorms.

In response to Gojo’s questioning gaze, Geto dropped his hand from where it was holding Gojo and said, “I grabbed some supplies from the clinic, let me patch you up before you go home.” Geto knew Gojo had no one back home who could do this for him, so Geto would just have to be that person.

“I should be taking care of you, ” Gojo responded under his breath but followed Geto’s lead anyway. The two walked in silence all the way to the dorms, through the entryway, down the hall, and toward Geto’s room. At some point it had started raining outside, and they could see it through the hallway windows, located opposite the dorm rooms.

Once inside Geto’s room, they both sat on the bed and watched as he took various first aid supplies out of his pockets. Gojo jokingly asked, “Did you get a first aid kit, or did you rob a hospital?”

Geto simply smirked in response as he read the various labels. Gojo took that moment to say something that had long been on his mind, “You know… I’m sorry.”

Geto paused and looked up before returning to his task of sorting his medicine hoard, much like a kid during halloween sorts what candies they’re willing to trade. “Sorry for what?”

Geto turned to Gojo, bruise paste in hand, as he began to tilt Gojo’s face to see the damage.

Gojo let out a breath before he began speaking in a quiet tone, “Sorry for not working harder to get those guys to stop being dickheads. I had told them early on to quit it, and then I told them again to leave you alone, and I thought they had, but I guess that was kinda dumb of me.” 

He paused, looked up at Geto from under his silver lashes, then continued, “You may not know this but, besides…” a cough, “sexual arousal, really any high state of emotion can cause an Alpha or Omega to release their pheromones. So, I was trained from young to be more austere, more numb to my surroundings.” Gojo paused again, allowing Geto to apply some type of cream to the blossoming bruise on his jaw.

“And as, you know, an Omega, I am on medication and I also use stupid scent blockers, but that’s not an absolute solution. I just have to be really careful about releasing pheromones, especially as a dominant. 

“But maybe that’s just the lie I’ve been telling myself. Maybe if I had been a little braver, then this wouldn’t have happened to you.” Gojo finally paused to catch his breath. He looked almost relieved to say what was on his mind, and with this confession off his chest he seemed to finally be able to look at Geto. 

As Geto watched him, processing all that had been said, Gojo reached for an ointment within the stash, sitting where he was, letting himself enter Geto’s space to reach around him. He read the label before applying some to his finger. Geto was lost in thought, looking back on every interaction they’d had, and while he wasn’t sure he could reconcile this Gojo with the Gojo he had met at first, he knew that he trusted the Gojo that he knew now.

Gojo brought that ointment-covered finger up to Geto’s face and when Geto suddenly grabbed Gojo’s hand, stopping it an inch from his lips.

“It’s not your fault,” Geto blurted out as he looked into Gojo’s eyes, he hadn’t been wearing his glasses since the fight and his blue eyes were on full display. They were staring directly into Geto’s. Geto repeated himself, “It’s not.”

Gojo stared at him, almost as if trying to believe the words Geto was telling him, then his eyes shifted to the hand Geto was holding, the finger that trembled an inch away from Geto’s lips, then back to Geto. The two stood like that quietly, the thrumming pain of their injuries the white noise to the tension between them.

Geto watched as Gojo’s brows suddenly furrowed and his pupils grew as if he had decided something. The hand that had been stuck in the shape of a pointed finger suddenly opened and flexed, moving to cup Geto’s face, taking Geto’s own hand with it. Geto felt the ointment Gojo had been intending to place on his lips, smear onto his jaw, then he felt Gojo’s lips press against his own.

At first, Gojo just firmly placed his lips onto Geto’s, his blue eyes looking into brown ones, but after a moment, he closed them. He pulled back and then gently placed his lips onto Geto’s again. It was awkward. Sweet. Gentle. With a light sting of pain that made Geto feel all the more present– all the more alive.  

It continued this way: soft, repetitive kisses, just skimming the surface, tentative. Gojo’s other hand came up to cup the other side of Geto’s face, his tongue darting out to lick the split in Geto’s lips. Geto hummed a moan, before opening his mouth and grabbing Gojo by the back of the neck to deepen the kiss.

Gojo whimpered, feeling Geto’s warm tongue press against his, and moved his hands from cupping both sides of Geto’s face to fully wrapping around his neck burying his hands into that dark hair to anchor him. He allowed himself to fully fall into the kiss, to drown, and gorge as if he was starving… as if he’d been thinking about this for a long time. 

A purring sounded throughout the room when Geto wrapped a hand around Gojo’s jaw to tilt his face and kiss him deeper. Geto could feel the vibration coming from Gojo’s body and almost broke the kiss apart to investigate but when he pulled away slightly, Gojo followed that string of saliva right back to Geto’s lips. 

Gojo squeezed his leg’s together as Geto swept his tongue through his mouth, and Gojo responded in kind. But it was the sudden simultaneous taste of iron and feeling of wetness leaking out of him that shocked Gojo out of the kiss. He unwrapped his arms and pushed Geto back. The purring stopped abruptly. 

Fuck. What was he doing ? He looked at Geto’s puffy lips, the re-opened split smearing those same lips red.  

Fuck .

Geto was staring at him with unfocused eyes.

“I–” Gojo stood up, felt the heat grow in his stomach, a drop of something slid out of him and down his ass, “I have to go.”

Geto remained as he was. He couldn’t bring himself to turn and watch Gojo run away from him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Gojo hadn’t come to school for a week after what Geto was deeming “the kiss.” 

Despite being the great heir to the Gojo Clan, beating the shit out of a fellow student in front of multiple witnesses will always end in suspension. The perks of being said heir was that the suspension was only for ten days and that it wasn’t expulsion. Being rich and powerful really did have perks.

That time alone allowed Geto to fully freak out. 

After Gojo stood up for him, no one bothered him at school anymore, so at least he had some peace to come to terms with everything that had happened. He peacefully spent his lunches and dinners with Haibara and Nanami, he went to classes, he did his homework and he wouldn’t spiral. He even took time to get to know Shoko who said he’d grown on her over the last few days. She’d grown on him as well. 

He wouldn’t spiral. 

That was a mantra he told himself as he moved through his life as if Gojo hadn’t run through it like a tornado. As if Geto didn’t still imagine the press of those lips or vibration of those purrs whenever he had a moment alone.

And while he enjoyed studying and hanging out with his friends, everything felt like going through the motions, because all he could think about… was Gojo.

He wouldn’t spiral. He wouldn’t think about Gojo. 

About Gojo’s twinkling blue eyes, Gojo’s smile, his wild white hair, his whimpers, what his mouth tasted like, what his slick would taste like dripping down his thighs, the way Geto’s tongue would taste him as he lapped at his– 

Okay enough of that. 

Geto had to force himself to stop that train of thought before he sprouted a hard-on right in the middle of the cafeteria.

But at night, when he was alone in his room? Then it was harder to escape those thoughts. Geto tossed and turned, his mind occupied by the same thoughts that had been bothering him all week. Geto didn’t know much about second genders, outside of the basics of health class, what rumors he had heard, and pornography. And because Betas were the majority, he didn’t know of many relationships outside two Betas or an Omega x Alpha pairing. Could a Beta like himself even be with a gorgeous Omega like Gojo? Could he satisfy him in a way Gojo needed, in a way Geto wanted to satisfy him?

He’d heard a Beta couldn’t truly suppress an Omega’s heat, and he knew a Beta couldn’t get a male Omega pregnant. Did Gojo want kids? Would he be willing to give up that future for Geto? No, they were young, he obviously couldn’t ask Gojo to do that. 

And what about his family? They barely tolerated their Omega son, they definitely wouldn’t tolerate him bottoming for a Beta partner. And having a male Beta partner would be sure to raise some suspicions about Gojo– but it didn’t have to… if they were careful.

Geto turned onto his side. He was being selfish, thinking this– wanting Gojo when he knew it could never be. He was being selfish as he thought about the way Gojo tasted on his tongue. He muffled a groan into his pillow as he pulled his cock out of his sweatpants already half hard. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked his entire palm before taking it back to his cock. 

He lay on his back, pumping his hips into his hand as he remembered what Gojo’s tongue felt like when it swept over his own, and what it could feel like if it was following the path of his hand– stroking his cock. 

Geto grabbed his shirt and lifted it to his mouth, biting it to mute his moans as his hand stroked his cock harder. He gripped it harder, squeezing the tip– he was leaking precum, it just made the movement glide more smoothly. 

He imagined Gojo above him, saddled over his hips, looking down at him, whimpering and purring his name, Suguru. Geto knew he was salivating around his shirt as he slurred out Gojo’s own name, as he came in his hand. 

Geto waited as he caught his breath, waited for the shame, the disgust, the utter revulsion, but all he did was realize one thing: he wanted Gojo. If that was selfish, then so be it. He had never been selfish in his life, he could have this one thing.

***

Tuesday had been Gojo’s last day of suspension so Wednesday morning, Geto got to class bright and early and sat in his regular seat. The class slowly filled in and Geto tried not to make it obvious that he was waiting for someone. When Gojo finally walked in 5 minutes before class was due to start, Geto’s heart sped up. Gojo looked a little more haggard than usual, like he hadn’t been sleeping well these past few days. But he was still just as gorgeous as always, his lithe body looking dangerous in that uniform, his dark circular sunglasses making him look cocky and mysterious. 

Geto had been replaying in his head exactly how he would say Gojo’s name that morning, and as he was prepping to say Hey Satoru, he realized Gojo was walking right past him.

Wait, what? 

Geto watched as Gojo walked to the last row and sat in his old spot, the last seat in the middle aisle. Watched as Gojo silently sat down, all while avoiding Geto’s eye contact. 

Geto turned around and stared ahead, wondering what the fuck had happened between their passionate kiss and now.

He felt cold.

***

Geto tried to catch Gojo during lunch, only for him to slip out when Yaga pulled Geto aside to talk to him about the upcoming exam period. Then after class, Gojo slipped out and ran for the front gates. 

Geto was left watching his white head disappear in the distance. He tried to convince himself that maybe Gojo was just having an off day. That he would talk with him tomorrow.

The next day, Geto was determined. During lunch, Gojo managed to slip away again by leaving class early under the guise that he needed to visit the nurse for a headache. But after class, as Gojo made a run for the front gate, Geto ran to catch up to him. 

Fed up, he grabbed Gojo’s arm and pulled him onto a trail that led into the woods situated behind the dorms. 

Gojo fought against Geto’s grasp at first but eventually gave up and followed Geto obediently into the woods. As they walked Geto changed his grip from holding Gojo’s arm, to his wrist, and eventually being bold enough to grab his hand. When Gojo didn’t pull away but kept his limp hand within Geto’s fist, Geto felt a surge of relief. 

They walked for five minutes or so, until Geto felt they were far enough away to not be interrupted or overheard. When he stopped, he pulled Gojo by his hand and turned him so they were facing each other, never letting go. 

Geto waited, standing tall, one hand holding Gojo, the other in his pocket. He watched Gojo stare at the ground and waited. When it became obvious that he would have to be the first to speak, Geto thrummed with so many questions. What did the kiss mean to you? Do you regret it? Do you still trust me? Do you want to do it again?

But he just asked, “Is everything okay?” Gojo finally looked up over his glasses and through his silver lashes at Geto, his lips pouting.

“Yeah, why would you think anything’s wrong?” Gojo lifted his chin a little, trying to back his words with a confidence he didn’t feel.

“Don’t lie to me, Satoru.”

“I’m not,” a pause, then Gojo looked to the side, away from Geto, “Aren’t you mad at me?”

This was probably the only question Gojo could have asked that could have shocked Geto into temporary speechlessness. 

Gojo took this silence as affirmation and bit his lip hard enough to feel a flash of pain. He knew it. He hadn’t even asked before pouncing on Geto, acting just the part of the slutty Omega his parents constantly made him out to be– even though his kiss with Geto had been his first. 

He didn’t even know if Geto was interested in men, and had never bothered to ask. He had spent his entire ten days of suspension bouncing between being berated by his parents for getting suspended (although his father did congratulate him on how “Alpha” it was of him to best someone in a physical fight) and feeling a deep shame for how he’d mauled Geto. Constantly thinking about how mad Geto was; how he hadn’t even been able to look at Gojo when he’d dashed away that dad. 

He should get out of here. He needs to leave. What if someone saw them? What if someone had already seen them? Gojo flexed his hand, ready to pull it out of that shared grasp. He needed—

“I’m not mad. Why– why would I be mad?” Gojo looked up when he heard that. Paused. He half didn’t believe it but the solemn almost injured look in Geto’s eyes indicated that he was serious. 

No, not only serious but surprised that Gojo had ever thought he was mad.

“You’re… not?”

“No.” That firm acknowledgment quieted something in Gojo’s mind that had been grieving. He was finally able to lift his chin and look into Geto’s eyes, even going so far as to squeeze the hand that was still holding his own. “Do you regret it?” Geto volleyed back.

Gojo shook his head, then said it so there were no questions, “No.” At this Geto smiled softly, lifting his hand to brush Gojo’s hair back, Gojo couldn’t help but lean into that touch. Geto gently pulled the lip Gojo was biting into free before brushing his thumb slowly over Gojo’s cheek, as they watched each other. 

“Are you okay?” Geto asked in a hushed voice, his thumb continuing to stroke Gojo’s cheek.

“Yeah,” and this time he meant it. He rubbed his head against Geto’s hand, looking at him through his glasses. Geto could just make out a soft purring building in the white-haired boy’s chest. It made Geto only want to pull him into a firm hug, but he settled for this– rubbing his thumb over Gojo’s cheek. 

“The suspension wasn’t anything serious; my parents just called me, yelled a bit for getting suspended, confiscated my phone, and wouldn’t let me leave my room. You know, nothing too bad. Honestly, I was more worried you wouldn’t want to see me anymore.” Gojo’s voice grew quieter, timid, toward the end of his sentence.

Geto moved his hand and grabbed Gojo’s chin, lifting his eyes until he was looking straight into those dark lenses, dying to take them off so he could get an unobstructed view of those eyes, to really look at Gojo. 

Moving his hand to cup Gojo’s jaw, Geto slid his thumb against Gojo’s bottom lip, the movement pulling at the lip to reveal a flash of white teeth. “I don’t think I could ever hate you,” with that, Geto pulled Gojo in and pressed their lips together.

He raised the hand that was holding Gojo’s and guided it to the back of his neck. Then taking Gojo’s other hand, he lifted it up so Gojo could encircle his arms around Geto’s neck. Geto used the thumb near Gojo’s mouth to pressure his chin and indicate he should open his mouth. 

Gojo obeyed immediately, allowing Geto to deepen the kiss– moaning when he felt the taste of him on his tongue again. Geto let go of where he was still holding onto Gojo’s arm, and moved it to the small of Gojo’s back, pulling them even closer together. The two of them spent god-knows how long slowly kissing in those woods, exploring, heating up as the winter temperature cooled them down. 

Geto shifted his hand from Gojo’s chin to the back of his head, gripping white hair, and tilting Gojo’s face down to deepen the kiss. Gojo moaned when his hair was pulled, and Geto’s hips instinctively punched forward at the sound. 

Geto broke the kiss to expose Gojo’s neck, delivering sloppy kisses to the white skin there– contemplating sinking his teeth right in, letting the whole world know that Gojo belonged to someone, to him. With his mouth now uncovered, Gojo was openly mewling, hips grinding against the leg Geto placed between his. The purring had only gotten louder and Geto wanted to die hearing that sound. 

Deciding he didn’t care if he left any marks, Geto kissed up Gojo's pheromone glands, wild with jealousy that he didn’t know what they smelled like. Wouldn’t know what it was like to bite and tear and scar the tissue there with a permanence that meant something. 

His hand tightened on Gojo’s hip, pausing his assault, Geto lifted his mouth to Gojo’s ear, biting the earlobe, breathing hard, “Is this okay?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to care that they were out in the open— given it WAS a semi-deep part of the woods. Nodding quickly, Gojo’s grip on the back of Geto’s neck tightened to the point that he could feel the short nails embed themselves in the skin there. He was leaving a mark on him too, and Geto thrived under the attention. 

Geto couldn’t help himself and slowly moved his hand from the small of Gojo’s back down to the seam of his pants, until he pressed his two fingers right where Gojo was wet and waiting, and he was wet. His underwear had soaked through. Geto’s low laugh rumbled in Gojo’s ear which only made him grind harder against him.

“You really want it, huh?”

Gojo only managed a groaned, “ Yes .”

“Say please?” Geto nipped at the lobe next to his mouth before kissing it.

Gojo pulled away, unable to take it anymore, feeling like he was in heat, even though he wasn’t due, even though Geto had no pheromones to drive him to it. He was going fucking mad.

“ Please take me to your room.” Geto moaned before catching Gojo’s lips again, slanting his tongue into the awaiting mouth. Gojo could feel Geto smiling against his lips, when suddenly those very lips met cold air. Geto had yanked Gojo back by his hair and was staring at him, breathing hard. 

Just as quickly as they’d gotten into this mess, Geto completely let go of Gojo, letting the cold air surround him, before grabbing his hand again and cutting through the woods towards the dorms, pulling Gojo along. Nearing the dorms, Gojo hesitated, pulled his hand out of that grasp and moved to walk next to Geto, a smile on his lips and directed toward the other boy.

Geto returned it. 

As they trekked through the woods and over the tangled roots, Gojo kept an eye and ear out for any movement or sound. Ready to play off their pink cheeks and labored breaths if they were to run into any other adventuring student on campus.

Thankfully they encountered no one on the walk to the dorms, nor in the dorms either. The two of them tried to spend the time catching their breaths, not smiling like idiots, and avoiding pouncing on each other until they got into the room. 

When Geto finally unlocked his door, opening it to let Gojo go in first, the two simply stood at the entrance in silence– unsure what to do now that they were here. They’d been in Geto’s room so many times before, but those memories were about to be washed over with this life-changing one.

Gojo took the lead and began taking his shoes off, so that they could, at least, step out of the small entryway. As he undid his shoes, he took that moment to say something that needed to be said, “You know,” he started, “I’ve never…” he trailed off but Geto picked up what he meant.

“Yeah, me neither.” Gojo looked up at this, and Geto laughed, “don’t look so surprised.” Gojo tried to arrange his features into something that didn’t say he was shocked, but Geto was kind, tall, handsome, big– truly built like an Alpha. Anyone would go crazy to have him. But a small part of Gojo felt relief, that Geto wasn’t some womanizer using this experience as a one-time thing. He’d heard of some Beta guys who didn’t mind female Omegas but hated sleeping with male ones, or some who did it simply to be able to say they had.

“Come here,” Gojo looked up and realized Geto was already waiting for him, sitting on the bed with his back pressed against the wall and his legs hanging off the edge. Gojo realized he had no other reason to stand by the door now that his shoes and jacket were off and walked toward Geto, grabbing the hand that was held out for him. He was about to crawl on the bed to sit next to Geto when he was pulled forward and placed so that he straddled Geto, thighs hugging hips. 

Geto pulled Gojo’s face down and began to slowly kiss him once again. Before the kiss could deepen, Gojo pulled away and looked at Geto, before looking at the door and the walls sandwiching this dorm between two others. 

“What if someone… you know?” Gojo asked as he looked back at Geto.

Geto seemed confused at first but then seeing the trail of Gojo’s gaze he understood, “ah, no you don’t have to worry about that.” Geto ran a hand up and down Gojo’s thigh in a comforting movement. A soft hum escaped Gojo but he quickly squashed it, awaiting the rest of Geto’s sentence. 

“They soundproof the rooms to offer some… privacy to the students who suffer through heats and ruts. Haibara was going on and on… and on about it when I first moved it.” Geto offered a soft smile, “Okay? We can stop though if you’re uncomfortable.”

Gojo steeled himself and took a breath. Wanting this. Taking comfort in knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about his pheromones or moans being overheard and the source of any rumors. 

Although it was entertaining to think about students thinking Geto was incredibly loud in bed. 

Instead Gojo simply shook his head and softly said, “It’s okay,” before leaning back in for a kiss. 

This time there was no need to ask, Gojo opened his mouth immediately and their tongues swirled around one another. As they kissed, Geto grabbed both of Gojo’s hands and guided them up and under his shirt, so that they rested on his warm chest. Gojo couldn’t help but flex his hands and feel the smooth muscle on the body under him. Geto took this same opportunity to slip his hands under Gojo’s shirt and press them against the tiny hot waist that was there. Gojo deepened their kiss, grinding his hips down to the bulge that lay beneath, big and eager and waiting for him.

Geto slowly lifted Gojo’s shirt before pausing for a beat and asking, “Can I?” Gojo nodded, pulling at Geto’s, indicating it should come off too. Geto leaned back against the wall and first took Gojo’s glasses off– which they had somehow forgotten up until this point– then he took Gojo’s shirt off before his own followed, watching as Gojo’s eyes ate up his body, pupils blown wide. The combination of his gaze and the cold wall pressed against his back caused Geto to break out in goosebumps. He was sure he was looking at Gojo the same way. “You want me that bad?” he asked in a low, disbelieving laugh.

“Shut up,” Gojo responded but not really meaning it, if the breathless way it came out and the searing kiss that followed were any indication. Geto broke their kiss to drag his lips down Gojo’s jaw, then neck, before pushing against the small of Gojo’s back, so as to bring his chest closer to Geto’s mouth. 

When Geto got to a nipple into his mouth, he began his slow torture of sucking and licking it, while his hand pinched the other. Unsure if this was even the right thing to do and more so just mimicking what he had heard and read and seen, he was pleased when his gentle sucks were rewarded with a whimper. 

Gojo’s hands reached into Geto’s hair and pulled at the bun he always had, until it came undone and his long black locks fell around his shoulders. Gojo gripped what he could and pressed Geto’s face further into his chest, grinding his hips in a way that was animalistic instinct alone. Geto could now feel the dampness of Gojo through their clothes and against his cock— and it drove him wild. 

“Satoru, let go for a second,” his voice was a soft lover’s whisper but Gojo heard it all the same and let go of the hair he’d been clutching between his hands, watching it fall through his fingers like silk. Geto laughed, “So obedient.” 

Honestly, Gojo was surprised he could still even function, his body demanding, he needed to come, and although he hated it, hated how Omegan the need was, Gojo desperately needed to be filled up. 

Geto pulled back from where he’d been abusing a rose-colored nipple and moved his hand to unbutton Gojo’s pants. 

As he did this, he looked up and was met with pink cheeks, a slightly gaping mouth, and lips puffy with the bruise of their kiss.

“You’re gorgeous,” Geto breathed.

Gojo’s blush grew but he only responded, “Tell me something I don’t know,” feigning his normal blasé tone, before, “Are you going to keep playing with me?” Geto smiled to himself, returning his lips to Gojo’s, biting them before kissing him. At the same time, one of Geto’s hands continues to pinch and twist Gojo’s nipple, while the other dipped into the back waistband of Gojo’s pants. 

Gojo paused the kiss when he felt a digit glide through the wetness between his cheeks, prodding at the puckered hole there. Gojo grabbed Geto’s hair firmly enough to rip a few strands and ground his hips down in desperation– at this point falling completely at the whims of his instincts.

Geto pulled his finger back before it could penetrate and Gojo whimpered, pulling at more hair. Geto returned the finger to circle the hole, Gojo once again grinded his hips seeking relief. Geto once again pulled back. 

“I thought you weren’t going to play games?” Gojo nearly whined.

“When did I say that?” Geto slid his hand from Gojo’s abused nipple, drawing a lazy pattern down his chest until it joined his other hand to grab a handful of his ass– plump, perfect, and, for this moment, his. “Are you gonna be a good boy for me, Satoru?”

Gojo didn’t say anything but he held still and watched Geto, his eyes blown so wide that the blue almost looked black. Geto waited a moment, then moved his finger back, this time pushing past the tight muscle until he was one, two, and then three knuckles deep. Gojo whimpered and moaned, trying to keep still against Geto’s grip. Geto watched Gojo’s closed eyes and flushed face as he slowly pulled the digit out before pushing back in. It was so wet that the finger began sliding so easily.

“You got so wet for me, Satoru” Geto muttered before pulling Gojo down for a kiss, entering another finger. Gojo’s breath caught and he moaned against their kiss, this time grinding down in earnest, and Geto let him. 

Kissing him deeply as he fucked his hole with his fingers.

Geto might not know a lot about Omegas but he’d heard enough to know that opening them up, ensuring they were pliant, was incredibly vital to their pleasure. He twisted his two fingers to see if he could find that magic spot he’d heard about anywhere, but after a few unsuccessful moments, which were simultaneously spent kissing Gojo, he stopped actively hunting for it. 

In truth, he was so horny that he was having a hard time differentiating his thoughts beyond his own leaking cock.

Gojo was losing his mind. He couldn’t believe he’d ever thought masturbating would feel as good as having an actual partner. He was grinding down on those two– no, now three– fingers, feeling his slick wetness coating those fingers and dripping into the accompanying palm. But it wasn’t enough. He needed more .

Geto noticed Gojo’s insistence on grinding and the twist to his face as he moved, then stopped, then moved again. “Hey,” Geto lightly squeezed the ass cheek in his hand and stopped moving until Gojo looked at him with those furrowed brows. “I have the feeling you’re not a hundred percent into this right now.”

Gojo quickly responded, “No, no I am–”

“Can you show me?” Geto cut in, and Gojo watched him, waiting for an elaboration. “Can you show me what you like?” It was the earnest way Geto asked, with no expectations or mal intent that made Gojo trust him. 

Gojo lifted his hands and placed them on Geto’s shoulders and then leaned forward so his head rested in the crook of Geto’s neck, placing his whole body at a sharp angle. Then, using his knees, Gojo slowly lifted his body, dragging those fingers out of his hole, before slamming down onto them. 

Gojo let out a moan as soon as Geto’s fingers hit that sweet spot inside of him. His fingers clenched on Geto’s shoulders, and he slowly lifted his hips again. Geto refused to move as Gojo slammed back down, letting out a shuddered gasp. 

Realizing where and how Gojo liked it, Geto used the one hand as leverage to navigate Gojo’s movements, while his fingers thrusted in and out. As he sped up his movements, Gojo bit down on Geto’s shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.

They continued like this when Geto suddenly heard Gojo mutter something lost in a babble of moans, and had to pull back to ask him to repeat himself. “I– I’m ready. Please? Please. Put it in me, I need you inside me.” 

Geto could tell Gojo was on the verge of tears, ready to properly beg, and he himself was so hard, it was hard to think of a reason why they shouldn’t. Gojo’s ass was already sucking his fingers back in without any problem.

With that Geto flipped them so that Gojo was on his back and Geto was kneeling between his legs. First, Geto decided they needed to take Gojo’s pants off. But as he was getting ready to pull them off he glanced up at Gojo’s face to see that he was hiding it behind the crooks of his elbows, both of his arms tossed over his face. Geto paused what he was going and grabbed both arms, revealing a flushed, blushing Gojo. 

Geto tapped a finger against his cheek until Gojo looked at him, and then he leaned in gently to kiss Gojo’s forehead, then each eyelid, then his cheeks before pulling away to look him in the eyes and give him a soft smile. “You’re gorgeous” he whispered, and this time Gojo didn’t remark about how he already knew that. 

With that, Geto rested his hands on the waistband of Gojo’s pants, waiting. Gojo slowly lifted his hips, giving permission, and Geto took it, sliding those pants down his legs before tossing them off to the side. Geto watched in awe as they had to be peeled from the wetness of Gojo’s core. Geto then undid his own buttons and took his cock out, slowly stroking it as Gojo watched, chest rapidly rising and falling, his legs pliant and spread wide.

“Do you see what you do to me?” Geto stroked his hard cock, and tried not to let himself get too self-conscious about the whole thing. About seeing Gojo open and wet under him, about showing his cock to someone for the first time– in a sexual manner.  

But he couldn’t help himself, there was just something about those blue eyes glazed over with lust that drove him wild. 

Geto leaned over Gojo to line up his cock with Gojo’s wet heat when he realized something, “Fuck… I don’t have any condoms.”

The two looked at each other before Gojo wrapped his legs around Geto’s waist and pulled him close, “I don’t care, it’s not like you can get me pregnant.” Geto really didn’t want to argue the point anymore, but someone had to be responsible. 

“Satoru…”

“Please Surugu, I just want to feel you.” 

Gojo pulled Geto forward until Geto’s cock was placed at his entrance. He lined them up and slowly pressed the heels of his feet into Geto’s back, edging the head of Geto’s cock into the tight ring of muscle, which had just gotten tighter as Gojo’s knees clenched around Geto’s waist, his gaze drifting to the side.

“Please.” Gojo whispered, closing his eyes as if bracing for something. 

“Hey, hey,” Geto gripped Gojo’s face, squishing his jaw and turning it so that they faced each other again, “I need you to breathe, alright Satoru?” Gojo nodded, and Geto rewarded him with a kiss. 

As Gojo breathed, Geto massaged his hand over Gojo’s waist. They waited and slowly his lower body relaxed. Gojo nodded and Geto resumed, slowly pressing in, the sound of wet squelching filling the air. 

When he was halfway in, Geto lifted his hand to pet Gojo’s face and hair, swiping away a loose tear with his thumb, “That’s my Satoru.” 

Gojo was learning a lot about himself today, and one of those things was that he loved being praised. He pushed his face into the palm that was petting his cheek, and closed his eyes as Geto pulled back and pushed further into him, he was so close to being full. 

Gojo’s eyes flew open, he gasped, and then whimpered. Geto slowly pulled back before thrusting back in and Gojo writhed, hands gripping the sheets before reaching out to grip Geto’s neck and back. 

“Does it hurt?” Geto asked, eyeing the watery state of Gojo’s eyes. But Gojo just shook his head, gripping Geto tighter. Pulling him closer.

Geto continued to slowly pull out, before thrusting back in, hearing Gojo’s gasp each time he hit a spot deep inside. Once he was able to move quickly, and more of his cock sunk into the Omega’s wet hole, he took his hand off the side of Gojo’s face and moved it down towards Gojo’s cock. When Gojo felt that hand wrap around him, his eyes flared and his legs hugged Geto’s waist even tighter.

Geto furiously pounded into him, while pumping Gojo’s cock, until he was begging, “Suguru, wait, please wait, wait. A minute, just–” each word broken by a moan. 

Gojo’s hands tightened their grip on his back as Geto began to fuck him wildly. Nails dug into his back, and Geto quickly rubbed Gojo’s cock in pace with his own movements, until “Wait! Suguru! Too much! I’m gonna–” Before the word could even come out, Gojo painted his chest white.

Breathing heavily, Geto lifted Gojo’s legs, tucking his arms underneath them so that they rested over his biceps, to further prop and open Gojo’s ass up, before thrusting in faster and faster until he was on the edge of insanity. 

When he felt that innate pressure building, Geto quickly pulled out and came all over Gojo’s already cum-covered chest, watching as his pleasure became indistinguishable from Gojo’s. The evidence of what they’d done painted so prettily across the bruises Geto knew his attention had caused. 

Exhausted beyond belief, Geto managed to remember to reach down and grab a t-shirt, wiping Gojo off, before falling onto his side onto the bed and pulling the other boy against his chest, and kissing his shoulder.

The room was quiet. The windows had fogged up. They both fell asleep soon after. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

Geto woke up to darkness and the feeling of someone trying to move his arm. Still half-awake, he instinctively tightened his grip and pulled back until he heard an “ooph” and felt the warm presence of a body press into the crevices of his own. 

The warm body wriggled, hands grasping at Geto’s wrist and forearm in an attempt to escape. Only after Geto pressed his mouth against the dip of its shoulder, did the body stop moving and instead relaxed against his embrace. 

“What time is it?” Geto asked, still groggy.

“Just a little past four in the morning,” Gojo whispered.

“Then go back to sleep,” Geto tugged Gojo more until there was not even a sliver of space between his chest and Gojo’s back, even going so far as to tangle their legs together– locking them in their place.

Gojo tsked, unsure if struggling out of Geto’s grasp would be possible, or if, he too, should succumb to sleep for a few more hours. After a second of consideration– where he could feel Geto’s slowing deep breaths brush against his shoulder– did he elbow Geto lightly until his grip loosened, and sat up– only to regret it immediately. Gojo hissed at the soreness he felt in his lower back, and general lower body.

Hearing that hiss, Geto sat up slightly, propping himself up on his elbow, able to clearly make out that white head and slim silhouette even in the early morning darkness. “What are you doing?”

“I have to get going, before everyone wakes up.”

“Just sleep here, we can just sneak out the window and get you to class in the morning, none the wiser,” with that Geto lightly tugged on Gojo’s arm as if to suggest he lay back down. Gojo shrugged him off.

“I can’t. I need to at least shower, or else risk letting the whole campus know that either I’m an Omega or I sure did fuck one. I reek.” Gojo sniffed and wrinkled his nose as if to emphasize that fact, not that Geto could see his face nor smell the pheromones he spoke of.

It was even more annoying when Gojo recalled that he smelled this much even with the scent patches on, and suppressants. He fought the wave of annoyance he felt and focused on just getting up and out, undetected.  

“Okay,” Geto sighed and sat up. “Okay,” he said again, his voice sounding deep and scratchy with the remnants of sleep. Gojo couldn’t help but think of how sexy it was, and that thought made him blush. He turned his head slightly so that Geto wouldn’t be able to see, not accounting for the fact that Geto could barely see anything in the dark, proven by how he stubbed his toe as soon as he stepped off the bed and walked over to his dresser to grab a pair of sweatpants and a towel. Gojo looked away as Geto got dressed, suddenly embarrassed. He only looked up when he saw Geto’s hand extended in front of his face.

There was a soft smile on Geto's face, as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes. In his other hand was another pair of sweatpants and two towels. “Okay, let’s go shower before anyone wakes up.”

Gojo’s heart squeezed, and the words you don’t have to get up with me , were on the tip of his tongue, but instead, Gojo grabbed that extended hand, smiling softly and standing up. 

Slipping on the sweatpants and a spare pair of flip flops, he followed Geto out of the room. They silently walked through the quiet, dark hallway, hand in hand, occasionally glancing at each other before shyly looking away when their eyes caught. 

When they finally reached the showers, Geto hung their towels up right outside two adjacent stalls, and stripped out of the sweatpants he was wearing. Never turning the lights on, he stepped forward and turned the water on in the first stall, checking its temperature, adjusting it, testing it again, before moving on to the second one.

Gojo was frozen, peering through the dark room and watching Geto’s naked silhouette step under the spray of the second shower. After a moment of watching the water drip down Geto’s back, through every crevice and dip, Gojo stripped out of his own pants and stepped under the perfectly warm spray. He washed his chest, his arms, between his legs, moving carefully so as to avoid aggravating any soreness. 

Once they were both done, they toweled off in silence, put their sweatpants on, and headed back to Geto’s room. The sun was just starting to paint the sky pink, and illuminated the hallway they walked through in a soft light. 

At some point, Geto had reached back and grabbed onto Gojo’s hand, so now they walked, once again, hand in hand down that hallway. Geto only let go when they were back in his room and Gojo was sitting on the edge of his bed. Geto stood in front of Gojo and towel-dried his hair. Gojo was silent, feeling the fabric of the rough towel caress his scalp, rubbing the nap of his neck, behind his ears, by his temple. He closed his eyes and just listened to his own breath. 

Geto lifted the towel to unveil Gojo’s face, continuing to dry that white hair. “Stop staring,” Gojo whispered.

“You started it,” Geto replied.

Gojo opened his eyes and looked up from where he was seated, arching an eyebrow, “When did I start it?”

Geto smirked and leaned down to press a kiss to Gojo’s cheek before whispering in his ear, “You don’t think I noticed you eyeing me up in the shower?” Gojo felt his cheeks burn and he looked away, coughing. Geto just laughed quietly as he stood back up and removed the towel from Gojo’s now dry hair. He walked over to the corner of the room to dispose of the two towels in the laundry bin, before walking back with two t-shirts, handing one to Gojo and putting the other on.

Even though he had just been called out by him, Gojo couldn’t help but watch Geto’s stomach and arms flex as he moved that shirt over his head. Gojo mimicked him, putting on his own shirt, allowing himself a moment to smell it, to smell a scent that he realized was solely Geto– a smoky, firm scent that reminded him of the forest in the Fall, of camping by a crackling fire. 

He hadn’t realized he had closed his eyes until they flew open as the bed dipped, Geto crawling behind him until he was seated with his back against the wall. Once situated, he tugged at Gojo, pulling him until he was nestled between Geto’s legs. 

It was… odd? 

He wasn’t used to this type of physical affection and Gojo could tell his body was a bit tense, sitting up straight whereas Geto sat with a slight curve to his spine, his arms lazily drawing patterns on Gojo’s hip. 

Not knowing what to do, not really comfortable enough to do anything, Gojo decided to draw their attention to another issue, “What am I supposed to do about my uniform?”

“What do you mean?” Geto continued his slow caresses, and Gojo felt himself slowly relaxing, but not quite.

He paused the movements of Geto’s hand with his own and said, “It’s completely soaked through, and smells of pheromones.”

“Then you can just wear mine.”

Gojo scoffed. “Firstly, I don’t think it’d fit. You’re a bit broader than me… and not as tall.” Geto laughed at that added statement. “And, if I did, we may as well announce to the whole school that I spent the night.” Gojo turned his face to look at Geto only to find him already staring back. Gojo swallowed.

“Would that be so bad?” Geto asked.

Gojo’s brows furrowed at the ridiculous question, “ Yes. ” 

Geto’s nose wrinkled, he didn’t say anything for a moment because he knew Gojo wouldn’t change his stance on this, but that didn’t mean he liked it. What was so wrong with them being out in the open together? Even if they just spoke about it in the hypothetical? He didn’t want to destroy this peace they had found with questions about a future that didn’t even exist yet, so he ignored it. 

But it still left a bad taste in his mouth.

Instead Geto asked, “Don’t you have any spares?”

Quiet, then, “Yeah…?”

“Where are they?”

“I have a spare uniform in the gym just in case I ever need it.”

Geto nodded, kissed Gojo’s shoulder and then got up, asking for the time as he put a sweater on and looked for a pair of socks. 

“It’s 6am,” Gojo informed him.

“Perfect. The cafeteria opens in 15’. I’m gonna go grab us something to eat, and then grab your uniform. Should be back in 30 minutes.” Geto walked over and kissed Gojo’s furrowed forehead, before putting his shoes and jacket on at the small entryway.

Gojo just sat and stared at the door after Geto gave him one more small wave and then left. He couldn’t believe it was that… easy. No argument or demand, just peaceful agreement. Gojo let a small smile take over his lips before he fell onto the already tumbled sheets and took a deep breath of their dirty, mingled scents left over from the night.

Yeah, they were going to have to wash these sheets. He smiled and hugged his face into the pillow. 

***

Gojo and Geto spent the rest of the morning trying not to make the fact that they slept together obvious. 

After Geto had come back that morning, they’d eaten some breakfast, and Gojo had gotten dressed in his spare uniform– a little dejected that he had to take off Geto’s perfectly worn and scented sweats and t-shirt— that smelled just like Geto, smokey and like a young man. 

He had almost asked if he could have them, but realized that was probably too much. 

After he was well-fed and decent, Gojo climbed out the window and dashed away to go to class. Not wanting to loiter by Geto’s window as if he were waiting for some heartfelt goodbye, or passionate kiss.

Gojo was the first to arrive to class, a whole 30 minutes early, and he sat at his desk just bouncing his legs. Of course when he realized he was bouncing them he would stop and lean back in his seat. Only for the bouncing to start again after a few minutes. It was only when Geto walked in and caught his eye that Gojo’s jittering stopped.

Gojo didn’t pay attention to a single thing Yaga said. He remembered getting to class, seeing Geto, trying not to look at Geto, getting slipped a note that said ‘ Lunch. Locker room. -SG’ and then Yaga was dismissing them for lunch.

Geto got up, gave Gojo a small private smile and then walked out of the classroom without a word. Gojo sat at his desk, pretending to organize his notes (that he didn’t take) until everyone had vacated the room. Finally, he slowly got up and walked out of the building, a slight pain-twitched hobble to his steps, hands in pockets as if his entire body wasn’t vibrating with anticipation, and towards the gymnasium. 

The air was cold, the wind caused the trees to creak, and the gravel of the path churned under Gojo’s heel. The gymnasium grew closer and closer until he was finally at its doors. Gojo paused for a moment and then pushed the double doors and strode inside. The gym was cold, dark and empty, except for the light shining out of the men’s locker room in the far left corner. Gojo walked towards it, his shoes squeaking against the wax wooden floors with each step. 

When he finally reached the locker room, he took his glasses off and walked inside. He was walking past the aisles of the changing rooms, when something grabbed him and pulled him into the shower area. 

Suddenly Gojo’s back was pressed against cold tiles, a hand rested on the wall next to his head and another had latched onto his waist– it made him feel dainty. Gojo was just able to see Geto’s soft victorious smile and intense, dark eyes before he closed his own and was lost to their kiss. 

As if no time had passed since their heated night, Geto prodded the seam of Gojo’s mouth with his tongue and Gojo opened right up, letting him in. Gojo let out a soft moan as soon as their tongues touched, and Geto matched it with his own moan, a sound which vibrated through his chest where Gojo’s hands were firmly placed. 

Geto pressed Gojo against the wall; kissing him, holding him. The hand that had been pressed against the wall moved to slowly trail down Gojo’s body, lightly touching every lithe curve, until he moved to palm his plump ass.

Gojo deepened the kiss Geto’s touch, moaned, thrusted his hardening cock against Geto’s hip. Geto squeezed the flesh in his hand before shifting to press his fingers at the aching hole just an inch or two away. 

Gasping, Gojo broke the kiss and pushed against Geto’s chest. “Wait,” he said around panting breaths. “Don’t touch me.” Geto looked at Gojo’s rosy face and unfocused eyes, and removed his hands entirely, moving to rest them against the wall, caging Gojo in but giving him enough space to breathe. 

Gojo removed his hands from Geto, and looked up as he said, “I don’t have any more spare clothes.” He couldn’t afford to soak this set in his pheromones as well. 

And while he had glanced around on his way in and reassured himself that no one was in the immediate area, a sudden onslaught of sweet Omegan pheromones may just draw in the wrong type of person. 

Geto immediately understood, he couldn’t forget that Gojo had a secret and in turn, somehow, Geto had become a part of that secret. 

He lightly caressed Gojo’s cheek until their eyes met and Gojo leaned into the touch.

“That’s okay, Satoru,” Geto grabbed onto Gojo’s hands and pulled them until they were touching his chest, then together guiding their hands up to his neck and then face. “You can touch me,” he whispered. 

Gojo smiled before yanking Geto’s face to his own, continuing their kiss. Geto kept his hands on the wall, caging Gojo in, as they deepened the kiss and Gojo’s hands roamed his body. Gojo’s hands cupped Geto’s face as their teeth clacked together. His hands dug into the back of his neck as Geto shifted to kiss Gojo’s jaw, running his tongue down and over the smooth skin there Gojo’s hands once again shifted to slide down Geto’s neck onto the smooth muscle of his shoulders when suddenly Gojo paused, a furrow on his brows. 

He twisted his head to look at what his hand had just touched, and as he had thought, a big white bandage covered the area where Geto’s shoulder began to curve into neck. 

“Why are you wearing a bandage?” Geto didn’t respond, instead watching Gojo’s reaction as he slowly peeled the bandage away, revealing a large circular blossoming hickey– bruised around the edges where teeth might be. Gojo’s eyes widened, he looked from Geto’s eyes to the hickey and back again. Did he do that? He felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment, but also a deep satisfaction that he had left a lasting mark on Geto. 

After letting Gojo’s gaze take in the sight, Geto leaned his body forward and pressed Gojo into the tiles behind him. “Now, let me return the favor.” Gojo opened his mouth to ask what Geto meant when suddenly Geto kissed Gojo’s neck, and only a moan escaped him. Feeling the rapid heartbeat flutter under the skin, Geto sucked and kissed Gojo’s slender neck. His hand held Gojo’s neck at an angle, while Gojo’s hands desperately clung to Geto’s shoulders. 

“Wait,” Gojo panted, “You’re gonna leave a mark.”

“That’s kinda the point,” Geto reached down and grabbed one of Gojo’s legs, propping it against his hip, opening him up. Geto pressed his hips forward, grinding into Gojo, gripping the leg at his hip. Gojo moaned.

“Anyway,” Geto panted, “You have one too.”

Gojo was too lost in the sensation of Geto’s breath against his neck to comprehend the conversation. “Have one what?”

“A hickey,” Gojo paused upon hearing that. Geto continued his kisses until he felt Gojo grasp his hair and pull his head back until they were looking at each other. When he saw Geto wasn’t smiling, Gojo tore himself out of Geto’s grip and ran to the long mirror that was located above the sinks in the bathroom. Sure enough, up by his jawline was a small dark pink circle. And now, at the base of his neck near the collarbone was a wet patch of skin that was already starting to pink. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why would you mark me?” Gojo asked, furious, thinking back on the possibility that anyone had noticed. It was small, and hidden by the shadow of his hair enough that it could be overlooked but you never knew. 

His heart was racing, for all the wrong reasons. His father’s stern warnings that he not do anything foolish. 

Gojo looked up and saw Geto standing slightly behind him in the mirror, except he wasn’t looking at Gojo but the marks on Gojo’s neck. 

Geto couldn’t take his eyes off Gojo’s neck, feeling a deep satisfaction that he had marked that unblemished skin, and all he could think about was how he wanted to sink his teeth in and leave marks all over. 

“Well?” Gojo asked.

“Is it such a big problem?” Geto asked, knowing he was being a dick but wanting to ask anyway. “You didn’t hesitate to mark me up.”

Gojo’s nostrils flared. He looked back at himself in the mirror and patted his hair down so it didn’t look as sex-crazed. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I didn’t either.” Geto decided he probably shouldn’t tell Gojo that he wanted to leave so many more spots just like that. 

Gojo let out a frustrated noise, “It’s not the same and you know it.”

With that, he put his glasses back on, looked at Geto one more time in the mirror, and the obvious erection he still had, before turning and walking out of the shower area. 

“We’re gonna be late for class. You might want to take care of… that.” Geto looked down on himself and by the time he looked up, Gojo was gone.

***

Geto got to class a minute before it started, and sighed in relief when he saw Gojo sitting in his usual spot, right next to Geto’s. He sat down and couldn’t help but glance over at Gojo, trying to catch his eye. Yaga had started lecturing, but Geto continued to bounce his attention between the topic they were discussing and Gojo. 

Gojo just doodled in his notebook, leaning back in his seat, not looking at anything.

It seemed in the time it took Geto to calm his erection down, Gojo had gone somewhere and found two small bandages, which he used to hide the marks on his neck. 

After ten minutes of trying to catch his eye, Gojo finally looked over, but as soon as he did his cheeks flushed slightly and he averted his gaze back to his notebook. A blush couldn’t be a bad thing, right?

Geto tore a small piece of paper and wrote, ‘ Have dinner with me? ’ He tossed the note onto Gojo’s desk. Gojo opened it, read it, and then tucked it into the pages of his notebook– not saying a word. 

Geto didn’t grow frustrated but instead more persistent. He wrote another note, ‘ Stay for dinner?’ He tossed that one on Gojo’s desk as well, only for the same thing to happen and that note to find its fate within the pages of Gojo’s notebook. 

Geto tried one last time, he simply wrote, ‘ Please’ with a small heart drawn next to it. Gojo opened this one just the same, his ears turning a slight pink, but his face remaining bored and serious. He gave a small nod. Geto tried not to smile too brightly. 

“Am I boring you Geto?” Yaga Sensei paused his lecture, to address the smiling Geto.

“No, sir.”

***

“I’m serious, we can’t keep seeing each other if people start picking up on it. Sure, I could maybe play it off like I’m seeing an Omega– but there’s only so many of those at the school. And what about out in the world? It’ll be even harder to play it off. My parents know what I am, and if they find out you knew… or worse, were involved? I– I’d never see you again and I can’t do that…” Gojo’s declarations were quiet, passionate hushed whispers that softened as they went on.

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have gotten you a bandage right away to cover up. I’ll be more careful going forward,” Geto whispered to the frowning Gojo from their spot in the corner of the busy cafeteria.

Gojo nodded.

They sat side-by-side at a rectangular table. Geto was stroking Gojo’s leg under the table. He’d been apologizing to Gojo since the moment they’d left the classroom and he could tell that although Gojo was stressed, he had forgiven Geto a while ago. His body going from stiff and distant to pliant and unconsciously leaning towards him. Even now, one of Gojo’s hands would “accidentally” touch Geto’s as Geto ran his own fingers up and down the slim thigh.

“I guess it wasn’t that bad, considering what I did to you.” Gojo slipped his hand into Geto’s and tangled their fingers under the table where no one could see them.

Geto squeezed that hand, “You did maul me…”

Gojo squeezed back, smiling at Geto, “Only a little.” Geto huffed a laugh at that. The two kept their tangled hands under the table while they used the other hand to eat in amicable silence. Glancing at each other and smiling each time they realized the other was already looking over.

“Can I ask you a question?” Geto placed his chopsticks down and turned to Gojo. Gojo followed suit and placed his own down as well, nodding. 

Whatever Geto was about to ask was interrupted by the sound of a clattering dinner tray being placed on the table. Gojo wrinkled his nose as a boy sat down across from him, behind the tray he had set down. There was another blond boy still standing behind him, watching Geto and Gojo. 

Gojo let go of the hand he was holding under the table.

“Hiya Geto! Long time no see, you don’t hang out with us anymore,” the brunette boy feigned a frown but it was overtaken by a smile he couldn't seem to contain. 

“Hi Haibara,” Geto said after a pause, followed by a nod and, “Nanami.” The blond man nodded back, still standing.

“And I don’t need to be introduced to you, you’re Gojo Satoru,” Haibara said right before he took a bite of his food. Then, “Nanamin what are you doing? Sit down.”

Nanami was looking at Gojo, and Gojo, suddenly feeling like this guy could see through a stonewall if need be, shifted his body so that even the knee that had been pressed against Geto’s was now solely on his own side of the table. 

After a pause Geto said, “Yeah, Nanami, sit down.” 

With Geto’s permission, he took the seat next to Haibara and across from Geto, and spoke in a deep polite voice, “Nanami Kento” as ways of introduction. Then, as if feeling he needed to make further polite conversation, “How are your studies for finals going?” 

As if in an attempt to give Gojo whiplash, Haibara blurted out in a smiling voice that was so different from Nanami’s, “It’s been miserable! The teachers here are sadists. The only thing keeping me going is the idea of winter break in just two short weeks.” Then, “Nanamin you’re going to be working over break, yeah?”

“Yes, I’ll be working with my father over the break. It’s the practical thing to do as we prepare for university applications.”

“Oh of course. You’re right, Nanamin, why didn’t I think of that? Wait, why didn’t you tell me?” Geto watched as Nanami obviously tried to keep a calm mind as he argued with Haibara about how that wasn’t his responsibility. Nanami’s distaste in the argument only grew, but, as with every other time he’d witnessed this type of fight (which was frequently), Geto noted that Nanami continuously indulged Haibara in a way that was similar to an older brother indulging a younger sibling he loved. 

Geto tentatively moved his leg so that it touched Gojo’s. 

Gojo pulled his leg away. Geto looked over at him, fighting the frown pulling on his face. The white-haired boy simply looked forward in bored interest, listening to the conversation being had. 

“Stop being a child,” Nanami muttered, and Haibara was sputtering as he thought of a way to reply. Geto managed a soft laugh at the situation, but he immediately grew quiet when from the corner of his eye he saw Gojo go stiff. When he turned to look, he could see that, from behind the rim of his glasses, Gojo’s eyes were wide and his nostrils were flaring. 

Gojo couldn’t look away from Nanami, who, in his grown exacerbation, had begun to leak Alpha pheromones. They were clean smelling yet musky like an expensive cologne or whiskey. 

Although throughout his entire youth, Gojo had been put through training to resist the physical temptation an Alpha’s pheromones would have on his Omega body, he still became tense around them. Maybe it was the Pavlovian reaction of being sealed in a room pumped full of Alphan pheromones until he passed out as a teen, only to wake up in the presence of a doctor, but if Gojo could avoid the cloying, musky scent of an Alpha, he sure as hell would. 

Especially for those Alphas who used their pheromones to metaphorically whip their cocks out on the table. 

Gojo was getting ready to excuse himself; Nanami seemed perspective enough that even a sliver of Omegan pheromones, even a momentary lapse in control, at a table with “only” Betas would raise suspicion. 

But as soon as he readied his body to stand up, those Alphan pheromones receded. Gojo looked up at Nanami, who was now quietly focused on his meal, the chopsticks and bowl perfectly placed in his large hands. With a shock, Gojo realized that unlike most Alphas he knew, Nanami was restraining his pheromones, not showing them off. He pulled them back the moment he noticed them leaking.

Geto saw Gojo begin to relax again, though he was a little jealous at how often Gojo looked at Nanami. He pressed his knee against Gojo’s again, and this time he didn’t move away but instead pressed his knee back. Geto smiled, assured. 

“So,” Haibara said around a slurp of soup, “you guys are almost done with school, where’re you thinking for college?” Both Geto and Gojo looked at each other, silent. Just realizing that neither of them had spoken about their future, only their present and past.

Gojo knew about Geto’s Beta parents, his impoverished upbringing, his history with bullies, that he was a hard working person, a loving person, a strong person. 

And in turn, Geto knew about Gojo’s Alpha family, his wealthy upbringing, his troubled relationship with said parents due to his being an Omega, that he could be a brat, and silly, but that he was sensitive and cared about those around him.

As if Nanami and Haibara were no longer at the table, Geto spoke directly to Gojo, “I was looking to go to The University of Tokyo, to get my PhD in English and become a professor. It’s why I worked so hard to get the scholarship to come to this high school– Jujutsu has a lot of alumni and, I hear, a good relationship with the university.”

“That’s true! Nanami’s dad went there and everything.” Haibara cut in.

“Really?” Geto asked but he was still looking at Gojo. 

“My father wants me to go to a Western university.” The table was quiet all except for Haibara who commented on what good schools there were and how Gojo was sure to get into any he applied to. After a moment, Nanami quietly reprimanded him, the two looking at each other and raising their eyebrows in a way that surely communicated something but was outside Geto’s jurisdiction of understanding. 

They barely knew each other, Geto realized, he and Gojo, and even so, just because this is where they wanted to go, didn’t mean it was where they would go. It wasn’t worth stressing about– yet, anyway.

Meanwhile Gojo was thinking of a way to convince Geto to come to America or Europe with him. Where he could be away from his parents and also be with Geto. Where the stress and iron grip his parents had around him would loosen enough that maybe, maybe he could finally breathe. He was sure that with enough pouting and tears, Geto would at least consider it. He had time to make it work. 

***

Geto was walking Gojo down that winding gravel path toward the entrance of the school. It was dark out now, the campus and its surrounding forest looking all the more eerie.

“So you knew that Nanami was an Alpha?” Gojo asked as they walked closely, but not touching, not willing to risk being seen. 

“Yeah, but you met Haibara, it would’ve been impossible for me to know them this long and not know their second genders and even blood types– AB for Nanami and O for Haibara by the way.” Gojo laughed at this because it perfectly aligned with the golden retriever of a boy Haibara was. “He’s got a serious side to him, don't get me wrong, like when I study with him or he's really trying to solve a problem. And I think that’s the part of him Nanami sees and really appreciates– outside of the hyperactive, bouncy personality. They mesh well together.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Gojo agreed, focusing on how they were almost at their destination– if he looked, he could make out his parents’ car and driver waiting for him at the gates. They would be separating soon, and although Gojo knew they’d been together all day today and practically yesterday, he didn’t want the day to end. Didn’t want to go to his empty house over the weekend. 

Twiddling his thumbs and watching whatever was on TV when he should be studying. More than boredom though, Gojo just didn’t want not to be with Geto. To not see his soft smiles and strong body and not feel his tender caresses and not smell his natural soft scent. 

They were almost at the gate when Gojo stopped walking. Geto immediately stopped as well and turned his body to face Gojo, waiting. “I can’t stay here another night.”

“I know,” Geto said, confused. 

“But, I don’t want to not see you.” Gojo had the courage not to hesitate and looked into Geto’s eyes, “Do you want to come over? I’m always alone anyway, and this way we can hang out– stress-free.”

It took Geto a moment to process what was being asked of him, but as soon as he did, he smiled widely and nodded, “Yeah, I’d love that.”

Geto grabbed onto Gojo’s wrist and started walking them through the gate toward the awaiting car. “Wait wait wait, don’t you need anything?”

Gojo tried to pull his hand from the grasp, but Geto only tightened his grip. Boys often held hands if one was leading the other somewhere. This wasn’t suspicious, Geto reasoned.

He didn’t slow his pace, “Nah, I can just borrow it from you, you owe me afterall.” Gojo had to admire his determined logic, a small laugh escaping him as they quickly trudged down the steps. 

Geto was still holding Gojo’s wrist when they reached a black car, an old man in a suit waiting outside, hand on the back door handle already opening it. He inclined his head, “Young Master Gojo… and guest.”

Young Master? 

Gojo finally managed to pull his hand out of Geto’s hold, feeling the gaze of his driver burn into him. 

Geto followed Gojo into the car, sliding in after him. The door closed behind him, the driver got into the front seat and started driving. Gojo simply crossed his legs and leaned back, facing Geto, face slightly serious. He would raise his eyebrows every now and then in a way that told Geto he was simply putting on a facade for the driver. 

Geto felt himself grow giddy, almost as if they were doing something they weren’t supposed to. 

They drove like that for 15 minutes: Gojo and Geto facing each other, knees jostling together every bump, the occasional smile or glance out the window, the new and yet familiar presence of each other.

When they finally reached Gojo’s house, Geto tried not to act shocked. 

There was a winding road that led to the entrance and a large two-story estate that covered the entire span of Geto’s vision. This is where Gojo loitered around alone everyday? This was a home for a large family, all their relatives, and their serving staff.

The driver stopped at the entrance and came around to open the door. “Is there anything else young master may need? Should I wait to take your companion home?”

“That won’t be necessary. We have to study for an exam on Monday so he’ll be staying in the spare chambers for his duration here.”

“Very well, sir.” Geto watched this whole interaction silently. He guessed the other side really did live differently. He couldn’t imagine anyone calling him ‘young master.’ 

With his last remarks, the driver got back into the car and drove away. Gojo was sure his driver would be reporting this to his father soon enough, but the last he’d heard his father was in Los Angeles. He had time. 

Gojo grabbed his hand and pulled Geto up the steps and into the main entryway.

The inside was even more shocking; gold, jade, antique paintings and artifacts covered every available surface he saw. Gojo was taking his shoes and jackets off (there was this much decor in the entryway?) indicating for Geto to do the same. 

Once they were both wearing slippers, Gojo gave Geto a small tour– small because after pointing out a few key places (the living room with its western furniture, the kitchen with its prepackaged meals made each week for Gojo, and Gojo’s bedroom) Gojo simply said, “and the rest is just empty space.”

“Are you hungry?” Gojo asked him. A silly question since they’d just eaten.

“No.” Geto drawled.

“Do you want to watch any TV?”

“No.”

“Are you tired?”

“Very.” 

They shared small smiles.

With that the two walked into Gojo’s bedroom. It was a big minimalist space with a king size bed, a large closet, a TV (guess being a tech heir had its perks), a desk and a small seating area. Besides that there wasn’t much personality to the room. There were no hobby items, posters, clothes scattered about, video games, or anything. Geto guessed Gojo must have a maid service come and clean regularly, because as they walked in Gojo simply dropped his bag and glasses on the floor by the doorway and walked until he flopped onto the perfectly made bed face first– his legs hanging off the edge. 

To be honest the whole space looked more like a luxury hotel suite than that of a 17 year old boy’s. 

Geto placed his own bag against the wall and walked over to where Gojo lay on the bed. He settled on the bed, laying down next to Gojo, on his side, propped up by his arm. He watched Gojo slowly turn his face until Geto could make out his side profile and a single eye. Geto brought his hand up and smoothed Gojo’s hair away from his face. Gojo closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

Laying in the crisp bed with the who knows how many thread count sheets, Geto remembered reading something once, he looked down at where Gojo was laying face down next to him. Hesitant he asked, “You don’t have a nest?”

Gojo simply looked up at Geto, silent. 

Geto fumbled, worried he accidentally asked a rude question, “Not that– I mean– I just heard about Omega’s… having nests.” He lamely ended.

Gojo closed his eyes and let out a breath. “No. I don’t. Everytime I try to make one, the maids tear it down. Probably on the strict orders of my father. I gave up trying a while ago.”

Geto hummed in acknowledgment, not sure what to actually say. He settled with changing the topic, “Are you tired?”

“No,” came Gojo’s muffled reply. It was quiet again.

“Then what are you thinking?” Geto emphasized this by lightly tapping on Gojo’s temple. Gojo opened one eye to look at Geto again, and after a second he flipped onto his back, looking up at Geto with both blue eyes.

“I’m thinking,” Gojo brought his hands up and grabbed Geto’s collar, “that my bed doesn’t smell like you.”

Gojo pulled Geto the rest of the distance and fervently kissed him. Geto returned the kiss, caressing Gojo’s face once before dragging his hand down to cup Gojo’s ass. A moan escaped Gojo’s lips when Geto used his leverage on that ass to pull Gojo into him. Geto pressed his tongue into Gojo’s mouth, stealing his breath. 

Geto squeezed that cheek once before using that same hand to pull Gojo’s leg up and over his hip. With that leverage, Geto pressed his hips to Gojo’s and they both broke the kiss to moan into each other's mouths. Both already hard and leaking. 

“Wait wait wait, one second.” Gojo wriggled out of that tight grip until he was half-sitting. He glanced at Geto before slowly, carefully, removing his scent patches from his neck. 

The relief was instant, and Gojo felt like he could fully breathe in a way he couldn’t when his glands were covered. Of course with that relief and breath also came the influx of pheromones that had been waiting under his skin– growing, clogged, overflowing. 

Gojo finally found it in himself to look at Geto who was watching him with almost a type of pride, that Gojo had finally unveiled this hidden part of himself. 

Once again Geto found himself envious that he could smell or properly bite those glands. Well, he’d have to settle, he decided, and pulled Gojo down to the bed again before kissing those freshly unveiled glands. When his lips brushed them, Gojo moaned almost immediately, feeling like his body was on fire.

Geto was sure that if he slid his hand into Gojo’s pants he’d find him wet and waiting. His own cock was hard and desperate to pin Gojo down and drill into him, and Gojo’s mewling and writhing hips only further tested his patience. 

Geto grabbed Gojo’s face and pulled him in to deepen the kiss until they were only breathing each other. Gojo desperately clung to the front of Geto’s shirt, and with that he couldn’t take it anymore. Geto unbuttoned Gojo’s pants, and yanked them down, exposing his ass to the cold air. Gojo tried to break the kiss and burrow his face into Geto’s shoulder, but Geto only gripped his face harder and continued to assault his mouth with his tongue. 

When Geto’s pointer finger caressed the tender hole there, he moaned– it was just as wet as he expected. Soaked. But as Geto got into position to finger that leaking hole, Gojo suddenly stiffened and cried out against Geto’s mouth. 

Geto stopped, and withdrew his finger, caressing Gojo’s lower back instead, “Are you okay?”

“Mmm, yeah. I’m just a little sore.” It wasn’t an issue, really. They just needed to take it slow. Gojo tried to push forward and keep the mood going, kissing Geto’s closed lips. When it became apparent that Geto wasn’t going to continue until Gojo elaborated, Gojo decided to take matters into his own hands. 

He placed his hand against Geto’s shoulder, further hooked the leg that was resting over Geto’s hip, and pushed. The momentum and element of surprise caught Geto off guard enough that one second he was looking down at Gojo and the next he was looking up. Gojo was straddling his hips, hands resting on his chest, “Now this is better.”

Geto moaned as Gojo ground his hips down on his hard cock, and the throaty sound made Gojo even wetter. He rocked his hips, moaning as he felt their combined wetness soak their pants. It was driving Geto wild, seeing Gojo on top of him, clothes askew, cheeks flushed, mouth ajar, eyes shining and staring down at him.

Gojo began to rock faster, breathing heavily like he needed this– and he did need this. His body was going haywire and he felt like he was going delusional with the need to be railed, filled up– god he’ll even say it, bred. He felt like he was going to cry if Geto didn’t get it together soon, his hips moved quicker and quicker– feeling the outline of that hard dick under him. 

Of course, it was at this moment that Geto grabbed Gojo’s hips and stopped him. Breathing hard, Geto gripped Gojo’s hips hard enough to bruise. He had been a second away from coming with nothing but the friction of Gojo.

Gojo whimpered and his eyes watered. Seeing this, Geto panicked and pulled Gojo into his chest, cradling his head and rubbing his back, “Hey, hey, baby, it’s okay.”

“Don’t shush me,” Gojo lifted his head and shook out of Geto’s grip. Ticked off that Geto didn’t understand why he was so frustrated, Gojo decided that if he wanted any relief he’d have to take it into his own hands. 

Lifting his hips, Gojo reached down and undid Geto’s pants, pausing and taking a breath before reaching into his pants and pulling his cock out. It was the first time Gojo was getting a good look at it, not just a feel of it, and his mouth watered. 

It was big, filling Gojo’s entire hand, pink, and leaking. It had a slight curve to it– to the right– that Gojo traced with this finger. Geto was watching the entire thing, gasping at the delicate but firm touch– at the way Gojo looked at him. 

After he felt he’d memorized the entire cock with his hand, Gojo got up off the bed. Geto sat up on his elbows, curious. At least until he saw Gojo kneel on the floor between his legs, looking at him, as he brought his tongue out and licked Geto from base to tip. Geto moaned, sitting up, and grasping a fistfull of those white locks. Gojo smiled at that reaction, licking again from base to tip, dipping his tongue in where that dick was leaking. 

Gojo tucked his tongue back into his mouth, tasting the saltiness he had just reaped. To be honest, Gojo was a little unsure about what to do next. He knew the basics, and he knew what would make him feel good. But all he really knew was that he wanted to hear Geto moan again, and wanted him to feel good.

“Satoru… baby, you don’t have to do this,” Geto brought his hand down and thumbed Gojo’s bottom lip. Gojo licked it and Geto’s nostrils flared, his cock throbbing. 

“But, I want to.” Gojo brought his face and rubbed his cheek against Geto’s cock, looking up at him with those big blue eyes. Fuck , Geto was going to come without anyone touching him. Gojo watched Geto close his eyes and breathed heavily as if trying to find some peace of mind. Of course that peace never came– Gojo took that opportunity to take his cock into his mouth. 

Geto tightened his grip on that white head and thrust up, even though it was all teeth and hurt just as much as it felt good– it still felt good. Gojo pulled back and sucked on the head before taking more of him into his mouth. 

“God yes, Satoru,” Geto encouraged him and Gojo preened, lapping at the base of the cock with his tongue as he took him deeper, before pulling it out all the way to the tip again. Geto was giving a pained moan, and Gojo could feel himself leaking. Not able to handle it anymore, Gojo reached down and removed his own cock from his pants. Sucking on Geto, feeling Geto grip his hair, rubbing his own cock– all of it was so overwhelming that Gojo was moaning around the dick in his mouth, grinding his hips down onto nothing. 

Geto wanted nothing more than to thrust his hips up into Gojo’s mouth and feel him gag around him, even just watching Gojo squirm was turning him on like crazy. But the teeth. Geto very well couldn’t just shove into Gojo’s mouth and risk him biting down when he choked. But he was going to go crazy. 

Finally, Geto needed to come, needed Gojo, unlike he needed anything. “Baby come up here,” Geto caressed his face, stopping his frantic movements. Gojo had trail of saliva running down the side of his chin. Geto swiped at it with his thumb. 

It took a moment for Gojo’s eyes to clear and for him to ask, “Was it not good?”

“No, no, it was really good. I just want to hold you and make you feel good too,” Gojo seemed to believe him, and the frown that had begun forming smoothed out into a sexy little smile as he stood up and shucked off his pants. Geto watched him, placing a hand on his hip to guide him onto Geto’s lap. Gojo crawled on, straddling Geto’s hips, gasping when Geto reached down and grasped their cocks together in one hand. 

Gojo fell forward, clinging to Geto’s shoulders, gasping and biting and kissing at the flesh there. Geto was pumping their cocks together, faster and faster, the tips leaking so much that the only sound in the air was their breathing and the squelching of their cocks being rubbed against each other. 

“Do you like it, baby? Are you close?” Geto managed to ask through his moans and heavy breaths. Gojo whimpered and dug his nails into Geto’s back, nodding frantically, trying not to make it obvious how much he liked it when Geto called him baby. “I can’t hear you,” Geto whispered into his ear.

“Yes, yes! Yes, I like it.” Gojo started grinding his hips down with every ‘yes.’ “I’m– fuck– faster, Suguru.” Geto listened, quickly pumping their cocks together. The next few seconds were just them gripping each other, moaning each other's names, crying out as they came one after the other. 

Geto fell back and Gojo flopped on top of him– dead. They tried to catch their breath, ignoring the warm cum sandwiched between them.

“Was that okay?” Geto asked after a moment, when their bodies had begun to cool down. 

“Yeah, I liked it.”

“No, was it okay that I called you ‘baby’?”

Gojo propped himself up on his arms to look down at Geto’s face, “Yeah,” he smiled, “I liked it.” Geto smiled back and hugged him closer. 

They lay like that for another few minutes before their rapidly cooling bodies felt cold, weary and tired when they decided to shower before going to bed. They showered together, Geto lathering and washing Gojo with care and vice versa. Afterwards, when they realized Gojo didn’t have any clothes that would fit Geto (all were just a tad too tight) they crawled into bed as is. 

Geto lay on his back, Gojo nestled into his side, head resting on his chest listening to his calm heartbeat. Gojo lazily traced patterns on his chest and Geto brushed his fingers through that white hair. They were quiet in the dark, waiting for sleep to take them when, “Satoru, are you really going to college in America?”

Gojo was quiet for a moment, knowing his answer but wanting to say it in the right way. “Well, there or somewhere in Europe. That’s what my father wants. The foreign branches of Gojo Enterprises are filled with alumni from western universities, and to play the game, you gotta be part of their inner circle. Especially as we expand. And… I want to be able to make a difference: as an Alpha, Beta, or Omega.”

After a moment, Gojo could feel his face frown as he added, “Plus… the farther I can get from my Father, the better.”

Gojo felt Geto nodding, “But you know, Suguru, you could always come to the states too.” 

“Baby, I wish I could but it’s too expensive and hard to get scholarships and loans, compared to here. For me. Plus my family is here, I can’t just leave them, even if everything else was perfect.” A pause, “but,” he lifted Gojo’s face so they were looking at each other in the dark, “I could always visit, if you’d like that?.”

With that he kissed Gojo’s forehead, and Gojo returned to his position, resting his head on Geto’s chest, all while fighting a smile. 

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

They stayed like that until they fell asleep. 

***

In the morning Gojo woke up to someone gently stroking his head. The chest he was laying on slowly rose and fell, his own leg draped and held between two others. He looked up to see Geto already watching him.

“Good morning, Satoru.”

“Good morning, Suguru,” Gojo felt a silly grin cover his face– it had been a while since he’d been this happy. “Should we get up?”

Geto continued his stroking, quiet for a moment as if contemplating, then, “Nah, let’s stay like this for a while.” Gojo snuggled in deeper, hiding his face in the muscle beneath his cheek. 

They stayed like that for over an hour, quietly held in each other’s embrace, only interrupted by the occasional check in (“Do you like this?” Gojo’s own response a nod, feeling himself relaxed). 

The only sound in the room was that of Gojo’s soft purring. Geto loved it, and held Gojo even tighter, never wanting to leave their little bubble. 

It was only after they’d lost track of time that they were interrupted by Geto’s stomach rumbling with hunger. 

Gojo got up, looking Geto over– the relaxed flush of his face, the marks on his neck and chest, where the blanket hid the rest of him. “Come on, let’s get you fed.” Gojo went to get out of bed only to feel someone tug him backward, right into an awaiting lap. 

Geto’s arms wrapped around his and Gojo felt a familiar presence nuzzling against his ass. Then a kiss to his shoulder, his neck. Gojo felt something stir in his dick. 

“What if I want to eat something else?” Geto’s low sleep-tired voice rumbled into Gojo’s eardrum. God how that deep, scratchy voice turned him on. 

“I know I’m amazing, but I think you probably need real food,” Gojo pulled at the arms encircling his waist. They tightened for a second before letting go. Gojo hopped off the bed, in search of some pants. 

Geto watched Gojo bend over to pick up a pair of pants from the floor, giving Geto a clear view of the red, tender hole that he’d been playing with just yesterday. He was hard again.

Gojo was already getting dressed, and when he looked over his shoulder to see Geto still in bed, a frown on his face as he stared at his own lap, Gojo admonished, “I didn’t think you were lazy,” before throwing the pants at him. 

Not waiting to hear a response, Gojo left the room and went downstairs to the kitchen. He reheated two of the pre-made meals that his fridge was stocked with, he waited for them to heat up, one ear tuned to the stairs waiting for their telltale creaking sound. 

When he heard those thudding footsteps, Gojo quickly sat on the floor by the small table they had in the space connected to the kitchen, leaning back gently and feigning disinterest.

“Smells good,” Geto wandered in a moment later, checking on the food. Deeming that it was almost ready, he put a mitt on and took it out of the small oven where it had been heating up. 

“Here,” Geto walked over with both bowls of food, setting Gojo’s in front of him and then settling down next to him with his own serving. 

The two ate together. “Are you still sore?” Geto asked. Gojo blushed slightly at the question, shifting his hips and taking another slow bite of food before turning his whole body toward Geto, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Me? Come on, as if I would be sore over something as light as what we did.” Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Geto quickly reached out and grabbed Gojo’s ass. Gojo yelped in surprise… and pain. 

Geto returned that self-satisfied grin, paired with an “mhm.” 

“Okay then, next time I know not to take it so easy on you.” Geto responded. 

“Yeah, exactly. I’m not that easy, put some effort into it next time.” Gojo turned his nose up, feigning his disinterest. 

“Noted,” Geto laughed and finished off his food. His hair was still down, a sight Gojo didn’t see often since it was almost always up in a tight bun. Gojo reached out and ran a few strands between his fingers. Geto simply smiled and tilted his head to make Gojo’s reach all the easier. 

That was how they spent their whole day: relaxed in each other's embrace; occasionally exchanging a chaste kiss that often turned into something deeper; playing video games together, with Gojo teasing Geto about how bad he was.

When the day finally ended, the two were exhausted. Satiated. Happy. 

They fell into Gojo’s bed together late into the night, after spending three hours just chatting as they ate dinner. Learning everything there was to know about each other– why Geto wanted to become a teacher, what it was like for Gojo when he first presented, what their parents were like (spoiler: vastly different). At one point Geto had even turned to Gojo, his face serious, “You know Satoru, if you’re going to be all alone for the winter break… you could… come home with me?” 

“I knew you were obsessed with me,” Gojo had responded, laughing as he reached over and took Geto’s hand in his own. 

He hoped that Geto didn’t notice the way he avoided answering the question. While nothing sounded better than hanging with Geto uninterrupted for two weeks, the chance that someone discovers he’s an Omega (especially with the way he’s been purring so much around Geto lately) was so high. It just wasn’t worth it– yet anyway. 

Now in bed, Geto was turned on his side, and Gojo was pressed behind him– arms and legs flung over Geto’s body, holding him close. Geto ran his fingers up and down the leg Gojo had propped over Geto’s hip. 

“Let’s just stay like this” Gojo muttered into Geto’s hair, his arms drawing him in tighter. 

“Okay, I don’t have anywhere to be.” Geto replied, picking up one of Gojo’s hands and lightly kissing the palm before returning to its spot. 

They stayed like that until sleep overtook Gojo and he fell deeply into his dreams, his palm still tingling. 

***

Gojo woke up to someone shaking him, whispering his name repeatedly. “Satoru. Satoru. Gojo! ”  

Gojo blinked his eyes open to find that he was using one of Geto’s biceps as a pillow, with his arms and legs flung over his body as if he were hugging him with his entire body. 

“Hmm?” Gojo blearily asked.

“Satoru, didn’t you say you’re normally home alone all weekend?” 

“Mmm, yeah? My parents live in the Tokyo apartm–” just as he was finishing his sentence, Gojo heard what had startled Geto. Someone was calling out his name, and was getting increasingly closer. 

“Gojo Satoru! Where are you?” 

Gojo bolted up to a seated position, suddenly incredibly awake. He looked at Geto, who was looking back at him with a confused expression. Gojo could tell his own eyes were wide, that he was panicking slightly. 

Fuck, fuck , fuck. 

His father was home. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Gojo and Geto were staring at each other, speechless as the sound of footsteps and the call for Gojo got closer. Finally Gojo seemed to snap out of his panicked daze and jumped off the bed, a mess of naked limbs, throwing Geto’s pants at him, grabbing his own. Loudly whispering, “hide!” as he tugged his pants on. 

Gojo was such an idiot for thinking the driver wouldn’t report Geto’s presence directly to his father. Fuck. 

Fuuuuck. 

His father was supposed to be a whole ocean away. He wasn’t supposed to be in Tokyo. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

Geto spun into motion, jumping off the bed and looking for somewhere to go. He only had one leg in his pants when they heard a knock on the door, a somber “Son,” and the turning of the door handle. 

Hair wild and undone, bouncing around on one leg, Geto dove into the closet and shut the doors. Gojo was left standing in the middle of his room, only wearing his uniform pants from yesterday, when his father walked into the room.

Gojo’s father was even taller than Gojo, as expected of a dominant Alpha, and he also had that same white hair– although his was cropped close. 

But that was about all they had in similarity. Where Gojo was laid back, ready to smile, and a bit sassy, his father was serious, stern, and had the frown lines to prove it. He also didn’t share Gojo’s strikingly blue eyes. 

Gojo’s father’s eyes roved over his disheveled room and appearance. Gojo stood a little straighter, a serious expression that made him look more like his father overtaking his face. “Father, I didn’t expect you to be home this weekend.”

“So I heard.” Gojo waited for his father to elaborate, knowing that he loved to build up the tension of a situation and assert his dominance when it would offer the most fatal strike. Even now, Gojo was sure that if he could sense his father’s pheromones– which luckily due to their direct blood relation, he could not– they would be slowly suffocating the room. 

“Your driver told me you had an acquaintance come home with you yesterday.” Gojo stiffened, he knew everyone who worked here acted as a spy on behalf of his father but he hadn’t expected word to get him so quickly. He thought he’d at least have the weekend to himself. 

He could’ve dealt with the punishment afterwards. 

Gojo forcefully relaxed his body, and allowed a cocky smile to surface on his lips, “Oh that?” he started, “I had a classmate ask if they could borrow some notes for an upcoming exam, so they came over so we could study together–” Gojo barely got the last word out before his face whipped to the side, a resounding slap echoing in the area.

“You think you can lie to me, boy? You think I can’t tell when an Omega has whored themselves out? That I am too blind to see the extra bag in this room, and shoes in the entryway?” His father’s words spoke of his outrage, as he spat every word– especially the emphasis he placed on the word “whored.” Gojo stood there quietly, the cockiness he’d tried displaying slapped right out of him. His cheek was hot and his nostrils flared against the embarrassment that Geto could probably hear all this. 

He made the mistake of letting his anger show on his face and his father slapped him again, this time hard enough to send Gojo to the ground. He stayed on the ground for a moment before standing back up, not willing to show any weakness. 

“You Omegas are all the same,” his father started, but whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by the clattering of a body tumbling out of a closet. Both Gojo and his father looked to the side to see a furious, shirtless Geto scrambling up from the floor. 

Geto’s eyes darted to Gojo, and his reddening cheek, and then his father– the tension on his body only growing. 

His father scoffed, “so this is who you share your bed with, a pathetic Beta ? You truly are not the son I raised you to be.”

“Hey, who do you think you are talking to him like that?” Geto spoke in a deceivingly calm voice, walking over towards them.

“Suguru,” Gojo reprimanded.

“Me? I am the voice of law around here, and if you were smart, you would scurry off before I call the police and issue a report for breaking and entering. And trust me,” His father paused, standing even taller, staring at Geto in disgust, “those allegations would stick.” 

Gojo watched as Geto seemed to weigh this internally, but stepped forward anyway as if ready to shield Gojo. “Suguru,” Gojo spoke quietly, “go. It’s fine.”

Gojo couldn’t risk Geto’s persistence landing him in jail or with a permanent record simply because he had the misfortune of crossing paths with Gojo and his father. Geto’s eyes bounced between the two Gojos, at the red hand mark on Gojo’s cheek. 

“Satoru,” Geto began, but Gojo cut him off.

“I’m serious. Go.” After a moment, “Please.” Gojo didn’t care if that add-on made him look weak to his father, all he wanted was go Geto to be safe from this situation. 

“You heard him.” Gojo’s father said, rubbing salt in the wound. 

Geto had no choice but to listen, he would check in on Gojo after the weekend, or if need be, come all the way back here and check on him. He didn’t want to make things worse for Gojo by sticking around, and judging by his father’s temper, that’s exactly what would happen. 

Geto bent down and grabbed his shirt and bag, before looking at Gojo one more time, wanting to be sure that this was what he wanted. Gojo nodded his head slightly, and with that Geto left, feeling like he was making a mistake the entire time. 

Once he was gone, Gojo’s father simply stated, “Pack your things, you’re coming to Tokyo” before leaving Gojo all alone in his room. 

***

Geto spent the entire weekend berating himself. He would sometimes try to reason that he’d made the right choice by leaving, that at the end of the day it was Gojo’s family and not something he should get involved with, and then he would try to call Gojo only to be sent to voicemail and his mind would spiral. 

Was he okay? Did his father keep hitting him after he left? Was he upset that Geto hadn’t put up more of a fight and stayed?

The worst part was that amongst all his worries, all his spiraling thoughts, Geto couldn’t shake the memory of Gojo. Of how soft his white hair felt, or how his bangs constantly fell over his eyes. How he constantly wore those idiotic glasses to hide what he was truly feeling– his face so much more expressive than anyone could know. Of how those blue eyes widen whenever Geto speaks or touches him affectionately. The cadence of his purr. His loud sarcastic smile, and his small private one. The way he nervously pulls away when Geto touches him in public, but doesn’t realize he always leans towards Geto whenever they’re together. 

It only made Geto miss him more. Made him worry more.

For all he knew, as Geto laid in his bed twiddling his thumbs and daydreaming about how it felt to hold Gojo in his arms on lazy quiet morning after spending a night together, Gojo could be bedridden, his beautiful face riddled in bruises. 

The worry was tearing him apart. 

Thus the weekend went by, the rest of Saturday and Sunday spent alone in silence, running and re-running scenarios in his head that ranged from horrid to terrifying. When Monday came, Geto felt sure that he would breathe easier as soon as he saw Gojo in their class– unharmed, lounging in that way of his, with his long legs awkwardly folded under the table. But that ease never came for Geto, because Gojo was nowhere to be seen when he got to class, nor did he arrive late or at any other point of the day. 

Geto called again. No answer. 

The same happened Tuesday, and then Wednesday, and even Thursday. By Friday, Geto felt like he was losing his mind. Any one who called his name, he assumed was Gojo. Any flash of white in the corner of his vision, he assumed was Gojo. It got so bad that he even asked Haibara and Nanami, in case Gojo was avoiding him or had somehow been a gorgeous figment of his imagination this entire time. When they both confirmed neither of them had seen him either, Geto breathed a little easier that he didn’t need to be institutionalized but that only brought more questions about. 

So when Yaga Sensei pulled him aside at the end of class Friday and told him that someone had requested to see him at the entrance gate, Geto didn’t ask any follow-up questions and just sprinted for the entrance. Running even faster when he neared and saw a familiar black car and driver standing outside. 

When he made it to the car, huffing and puffing from running in the cold air, the driver came around and opened that back door. When Geto saw a white head coming out, he said, “Where have you be–” only to be cut off when he realized the eyes he was staring at were not blue, but rather those of Gojo’s father. 

“Get in.”

***

They had been driving aimlessly in silence for five minutes before Geto finally grew frustrated enough to speak, “Where is he?”

“Hmm? Shouldn’t you be more polite than that? Given who I am.” Answered Gojo’s father, nonchalantly. And Geto could see now from where Gojo had adopted that bored semi-rude attitude. 

Geto ground his teeth, “Where is Gojo Satoru, sir ?”

“Much better.” A pause as if he were savoring the moment, “He’s currently boarding a plane.” 

Geto’s heart stuttered, his pupils shrunk, “A plane?” he said almost in disbelief. 

“A plane to America. He is going to finish his studies there.”

“What do you mean? He still has half a year left here.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Gojo’s father answered, off-handedly. 

Geto couldn’t believe Gojo would just leave, he only had half a year left. He still had so much to do here. 

He still had Geto here.

Geto refused to believe it, “What did you do to him?” Geto lashed out, on the verge of grabbing Gojo’s father by the collar of his shirt, but holding himself back.

“Me? Oh, I did nothing.” Gojo’s father smirked like he was entertained by Geto’s rage, “He asked to leave.” 

Geto was shocked into speechlessness. Gojo had… asked to go to America? Was he actually upset with Geto to that degree? Had all of this, all the worrying he had done on Gojo’s behalf, meant nothing? Had the secrets and the time they spent together meant nothing? Was Geto simply a plaything to pass the time?

Was it the issue of him being an Omega? It always came back to that, didn’t it? Was he nervous that being with Geto would out him as an Omega and therefore cause him to lose his status as ‘heir’? But then why did he remove the scent patches the other night, why make himself vulnerable like that for Geto, if he was nervous about being an Omega. 

Was Geto so untrustworthy that Gojo thought they couldn’t even have a conversation about this? That Geto wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice a little if it meant they could be together?

“Do both yourself and him a favor,” Gojo’s father snapped Geto out of his spiraling, depressed thoughts. The car had begun slowing down. “Don’t push the issue. He doesn’t want to speak with you, deciding, as he always should have, to prioritize his future over a… fling.”

The car stopped and Gojo’s father turned fully to face Geto, “Let me lay this out clearly for you. Gojo is an Omega, as I’m sure he already stupidly told you, and while there’s nothing we can do about it, if the world were to find out, he would be stripped of all his financial support, of his status as the heir to both corporation and clan, and be abandoned by the life he knows. I want you to really ask yourself, if you’re worth that sacrifice.”

Before Geto could even think of an answer for that question, the driver came around and opened the door behind him. With nothing to say, Geto got out of the car and watched it drive away, standing under the entrance gate of Jujutsu High School, numb. 

Had Gojo already decided for the both of them that Geto wasn’t worth the sacrifice?

***

Gojo felt the plane begin to rumble as it turned onto the runway, watching its slow progression from his window seat. He couldn’t enjoy the view for long before his vision blurred and tears began to slowly run down his cheeks, one at a time, as he clenched the paper in his hand. 

It had been almost a week since he left his home, the school, and Geto, and went to Tokyo with his father. As he had anticipated, as soon as Geto had left that day, his father had gone quiet and simply waited as Gojo packed his things. When he had asked how long he should pack for, his father had simply replied that he should pack anything he wanted to see again.

When he was packed and ready to go, dressed in the type of pristine clothing his father preferred, his father simply held out his hand and said, “Phone.” Once Gojo handed it over, the two of them got in the car and drove to the Tokyo apartment. 

Gojo was numb and quiet the entire time. He was at least thankful his father remained quiet the entire car ride as well. 

In fact his father didn’t speak to him again until Wednesday when he came to reprimand Gojo for not eating and simply holing up in his room. 

What his father didn’t know was that when they left the estate, Gojo had also packed the one shirt Geto had left behind, and spent that Saturday to Wednesday clutching it in his bed. Too lazy to make a nest and too nervous to actually masturbate, in fear his father would burst into his room. 

Instead, Gojo simply recalled the soft way Geto had held him, had combed his hand through his hair, had called him baby.

In the end, even though it was only a few days, the memories were the only proof he had of Geto since the hickies and soreness he felt had faded. All that was left were the memories and three notes he kept tucked away in his notebook. 

That Wednesday night, his father had come into his room, his mother trailing quietly behind him– ever the submissive Beta wife. Gojo tsked, knowing he looked a mess in nothing but sweatpants and Geto’s shirt, laying in his old room, on his old bed. 

The bed that only smelled of him. 

Not even he smelled like Geto anymore, since his father had thrown him in the shower as soon as they’d gotten to Tokyo, telling him he smelled like a “cheap whore.”

“Stop moping over a Beta you barely knew. Get up, we have some things to discuss.” His father stood at the foot of the bed, waiting for Gojo to obediently listen. Gojo simply scowled. Going so far as to snuggle deeper into his bed.

“I think I’d rather stay here and mope, thank you for your concern though Father.”

His father hmphed, then “I didn’t want to say this to you son, but your Beta has already forgotten you.”

Gojo looked at his father and wrinkled his nose, “What are you talking about?”

His father took that opportunity to throw a piece of paper onto the bed. Gojo sat up and tentatively picked it up. 

It was addressed to the… University of Tokyo? And signed by his father? 

Gojo was about to dismiss it when he saw “Geto Suguru” written throughout the letter. He paused, reading through it, quicker and quicker each time he saw that name. 

It was a recommendation letter. High praise about a dedicated student named Geto Suguru. 

“I gave him a choice, either stay with you or never see you again and get a full ride and recommendation to the university of his choice.” Gojo read and re-read the single page letter. His heart racing, and breaking.

He bit his lip, knowing he had to keep it together in front of his parents. That he couldn’t just yell and scream and beg that it was all a lie. How else would his father know that Geto had wanted to go to the University of Tokyo?

“Now pull yourself together. I got you a spot at a top high school in California for you to finish your studies. The principal is a friend and a Stanford alumnus. Your flight leaves Friday afternoon.”

Gojo nodded once, twice. He tried to swallow but his throat was dry, he was still clutching the letter. 

“Now be a good boy, eat something and pack whatever you want to take with you. I already found you a new doctor to hopefully find you a medication that will deal with some of these… urges you have.” With that his father turned and walked toward the door, pausing for a moment, and throwing over his shoulder, “You can keep that one, it’s just a copy,” before he walked out and closed the door behind him. 

Gojo was left alone in the dark. 

Now, on the plane, Gojo finally felt the full weight that he would never see Geto again, that he was going to America, and that Geto had chosen to stay in Japan. Regardless of what he’d said about visiting Gojo, regardless of everything they’d said. At the end of the day, Geto didn’t choose him.

Hot tears ran down Gojo’s cheeks, and he furiously wiped them, trying not to make his sniffling too obvious to the bodyguard who was fast asleep already. 

As the plane sped up to take off, Gojo reached into the front pocket of his bag and pulled out three little torn-up notes. He held them in his hand, watched as a single teardrop smudged the little hand-drawn heart. 

Closing his fist around the notes, Gojo steeled himself, allowed one final sniffle before he wiped all his tears away and stared out the window. 

The plane took off and Gojo readied himself for his new life. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Tokyo – 2017

Gojo took a step back. He looked up and down at the boy– no, man– he thought he knew so well. 

Or at least, who he knew so well in his memories, in his dreams, but now... 

Geto was an… Alpha? 

The familiar, yet different, scent of musky smoke wasn’t overwhelming, in fact, the only reason Gojo could smell it was because of the way the wind had picked up slightly to blow in his direction, bringing those unmistakable Alpha pheromones right to his nose as if on a silver platter. 

“Wha…” the word trailed out of his mouth, unfinished. 

Megumi looked from his speechless dad (a true rarity) to his teacher– regarding the long-haired man with new, curious eyes. Who was he to make his powerful dad so nervous?

“Do you know my dad? Don’t you know it’s rude to call someone you don’t know by their name? Even I know that and I’m six,” Megumi stepped slightly in front of his dad, taking a protective stance, his own face stern and warning Geto of what he really thought of this whole scenario. 

For a second both adults were speechless, then Gojo began laughing at the audacity and adorableness of his son. He ruffled Megumi’s hair, looking at him as he said, “You are very right that it’s a rude thing to do,” Megumi stood a little taller at having been right, “but,” Gojo continued, “I actually do know Geto Sensei. We were… friends in High School.”

“What happened?” Megumi asked, looking up at his dad.

“What do you mean?”  

“Well, you two don’t hang out anymore, or I would know.” Megumi said this with the confidence of someone who spent every morning, night, and weekend with his dad. Besides Uncle Nanami, Shoko san, and that weird money-obsessed lady, his dad didn’t have many friends. 

Gojo opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to come up with an appropriate answer for a child that wasn’t, We used to sleep together, until your grandfather got involved and Geto Sensei chose financial security over our friendship.

Thankfully Gojo was saved from answering by twin shrieks of “Papa!” as two dark streaks ran up to Geto and tackled each of his legs. Gojo watched as Geto looked down at what he could now see were two girls around Megumi’s age. One was blonde and the other a brunette, but besides that they were almost identical. 

Geto smiled softly– softer than he’d ever smiled at Gojo, which sparked a light jealousy in Gojo even he was shocked by– at each girl before lightly stroking their heads. “Nanako, Mimiko, what are you doing out here? I thought I told you to wait for me inside?” 

“But we were so bored, Papa. You took forever .” The brunette one, Mimiko, groaned. Dramatically dragging her hand down her face. 

“Geto Sensei is your dad ? That’s nepopism!” Megumi exclaimed. 

One of the girls, the blonde one, Nanako, turned her head slightly toward him, not even giving him her full attention from where she stood, still clutching her dad’s leg, before responding snootily, “You’re one to talk.” A pause. “And it’s nepotism.”

Megumi was speechless, mouth opening and closing before he simply settled on a scowl. At this moment, both father and son looked disturbingly similar.

“So, you’re a dad?” Gojo finally voiced the question that had been stuck in his throat from the moment he had heard ‘Papa.’

“So, you have a son,” Geto responded, neither confirming nor denying the previous question– not that Gojo needed him to, the truth was obvious. 

The two looked at each other from their small distance in that, now empty, school courtyard. Thinking the same thing, how different the other’s offspring were from their parent. Perhaps the children took after their other parent, they both thought. 

It was almost enough for Gojo to forget about the more shocking news he’d learned: not only was Geto a father, but he was also an Alpha. 

Gojo couldn’t help but wonder if the girls’ mother was a Beta… or an Omega. He wasn’t sure which was worse, but the thought that Geto was now happily married with two daughters was doing a lot to Gojo’s mental sanity. 

He placed his hand back on his son’s shoulder, ready to steer him away. “Well, if that’s all, then we should get going. Lots of sweets to eat and important… business to attend to. Say bye Megumi.”

“Bye, Megumi.” GAH! This kid. 

Sure, Gojo was the one who taught him that, mainly to annoy Nanami, but did he have to say it now and embarrass his father?

Gojo was about to run for the hills, ready for this entire encounter to be over. Between the soft Alpha pheromones, the reunion with his first everything , and the news that that everything was a father, Gojo could feel his own, normally silenced, pheromones beginning to stir with the emotional turmoil he felt. The feeling was suffocating and he could feel his heart start to race, his skin start to itch under those scent patches. 

 Maybe he should pick Megumi up so they could get out of there even fast?

Gojo was just about to act on that thought when a, “One second,” resounded in the space. And Gojo hated how he stopped and waited. 

When he looked back at Geto, the man had shaken off his daughters and they were now sitting at the bench slightly behind him. 

“I actually had a reason for wanting to talk to you– to Megumi’s dad.” Geto put on his “teacher” face, stood a little taller, and tried to talk to Gojo as if he were just another parent of one of his students. 

“Okay? If it’s about how incredible and adorable Megumi is, don’t worry, I already know.” Gojo pinched Megumi’s cheek, who yanked his face away and slapped at his dad’s hand. Gojo clutched his hand and pouted as if he were in pain, but Megumi only rolled his eyes. 

Geto watched the interaction with intense fascination, clearing his throat awkwardly to bring the subject back at hand, “Erm, no. Actually, Megumi is in trouble because he got into a fight with another student. He even went so far as to shove him.”

“Well, what did the kid do?”

“What?”

“What did the kid do?” Gojo asked the question again but this time directing it at his son.

“He wasn’t following the rules and kept trying to play games,” Megumi explained, and Gojo nodded as he listened. 

“Oh… well then, he probably deserved it. Good job for standing up for yourself Megumi,” Gojo held his hand out and Megumi high-fived it as if this was a ritual of theirs. Geto watched, dumbfounded. 

“But Sato– Gojo,” Geto tried to remain professional and not gape at this father-son duo. Some things had started making a lot more sense now that he knew Gojo was Megumi’s father. “Physical altercations are specifically forbidden at Komodo. This is a warning, there may not be one next time.”

Gojo sighed and squatted down in front of his son, bringing them to eye level, “Okay Megumi, fighting with people is bad… in school. Next time wait until he’s outside and then tackle him.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not what Geto Sensei meant,” Megumi drily replied, but his scowl had melted away into a small (small) smile. 

“Eh, tomato tomato.” Gojo stood back up, grabbed Megumi’s hand and started walking away, needing to get out of there before he did something embarrassing, like asking Geto to scent him, or why he chose what he did all those years ago, or if he was happy. 

“Glad that’s all cleared up. Bye Mamako. Bye Niniko.”

“It’s Nanako and Mimiko!” The blonde one yelled from her spot on the bench.

Gojo just smiled and caught Geto’s eye, “Bye, Suguru,” before he and Megumi turned a corner and disappeared from view.

***

“Okay Megumi, say good night to Nanami, and then shut your eyes and go to sleep.” Gojo was seated on the edge of Megumi’s bed, the room was dark all except for the soft glow that came from Megumi’s bedside lamp. Megumi was tucked under the covers, all set in his pajamas, holding Gojo’s phone up to his ear. 

Gojo had called Nanami right after he and Megumi had eaten dinner– somehow able to keep his sanity up until then. After leaving the school, they’d gone to their favorite cafe for tea and mille-crepe cakes. Then they’d gone to a clothing store to buy Megumi a new sweater for the rapidly cooling weather– that’s what he’d told Megumi anyway but the truth was Gojo just needed some retail therapy. Then they’d gone home and Gojo had cooked some pasta– a favorite of his from his time in America.

Throughout all of this, Gojo had had to dodge questions about Geto from Megumi. Gojo could swear the kid didn’t normally talk so much , and yet it felt like the questions were never-ending. 

How did they meet? (They were high school classmates). Didn’t Gojo know that Geto taught at the school? (No). Why didn’t Geto come to any of Megumi’s birthday parties, like Gojo’s other friends (He was busy). Was Geto his dad? (No!). 

By the time they sat down to eat dinner, and Megumi was finally too busy eating to ask any more questions, Gojo felt like he was about to lose his mind. Not to mention his hold on his pheromones felt like it was getting weaker and weaker the more his mind fell into turmoil. 

Finally, unable to take it anymore, Gojo had put the TV on for Megumi, and started clearing off the table. He had his phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder as he cleaned, listening to the incessant ring. When his call wasn’t picked up the first time, Gojo finished cleaning, and called again. He was in the middle of making tea when the call finally connected.

“Where were you? What if this was an emergency??”

A sigh sounded from the other end of the line, “I highly doubt that, you would have texted too if that was the case. And much to your surprise, I’m sure, I do have a life outside of yours.”

“Come on Nanami, you know I’m your world,” Gojo grinned. He was just about to take his tea and go hide in his room to finally explain the oddities of today to someone who knew the whole story when Megumi’s voice sounded from the living room.

“Is that Uncle Nanami?”

Gojo paused, knowing that if he replied positively he would have to wrestle for Nanami’s attention with a child– and would lose. Gojo groaned, “Yes.”

As expected Megumi came running out of the living room and extended his grubby little hands toward Gojo, “Give it to me!” Gojo dropped the phone into the awaiting hands and followed Megumi into the living room.

“Hi, Uncle Nanami,” Gojo could hear the soft cooing and laughter from the other side of the phone as Nanami spoke with his favorite honorary nephew, “School’s good… I got in trouble for pushing a kid… I know… Dad said it’s oka–... yeah, I know he says weird things sometimes… yeah we ate… pasta…” 

Gojo sat on the couch and drank his tea as his son stole the attention of one of Gojo’s only good friends out there. Every now and then Gojo would try to intervene and take the phone, but Megumi would just move out of reach and glare at him before tattling to Nanami about it. 

Thinking back on it, maybe Gojo shouldn’t have let his son and Nanami hang out so much during the child’s formative years– the influence he’d had was too obvious. 

As those two chit chatted away, Gojo finally remembered to take his scent patches off– he was so used to wearing them that sometimes he’d only recall he’d needed to take them off in the shower or in bed. And although his maid was from the Gojo clan and had signed so many NDAs she was metaphorically mute, Gojo still found himself acting cautious and hypervigilant to hide his second gender identity, even at home. 

But when he took them off? God, it felt so good. Like a breath of fresh air. And he always forgot about the soothing affect his pheromones had on his own son, until Megumi– still chattering on the phone– crawled onto the couch and into Gojo’s lap, resting his head in the nook of Gojo’s neck as if trying to get closer to those pheromones. 

Gojo simply half listened to the conversation going on in front of him as he rubbed his son’s back in slow languid movements and felt, more than heard, the soft purr vibrating through his chest. 

It was rare Megumi was so physically affectionate, never openly asking for hugs and always scowling when Gojo ruffled his hair in public, but it was in moments like these that Gojo remembered that he was in fact someone’s favorite person (at least when Nanami wasn’t nearby). 

It was almost enough to make Gojo wish he could pour out more pheromones for Megumi all day everyday. 

Almost. 

Instead he settled for holding his son tightly and listening to his excited words. 

Gojo only managed to gain control of his phone again when Megumi’s bedtime arrived, and he tucked the boy into bed, demanding he say goodbye to his uncle. 

“Say good night,” Gojo repeated himself. 

Megumi turned onto his side, with his back to Gojo, as if about to tell a secret, “Bye Uncle Nanami. Don’t forget what you promised.”

In the quiet of the room, Gojo could hear the deep but soft response, “Good night Megumi. Don’t worry, I won’t forget. Be sure to listen to your dad in the meantime.” 

Gojo took the phone out of Megumi’s hands, kissed his forehead, and shut the light on the bedside table, throwing them into darkness. 

“Night, dad.”

“Night, kid,” Gojo whispered as he shut the door and walked back over to the living room. 

“He’s a good kid,” Nanami stated as soon as Gojo brought the phone back up to his ear.

“He is,” Gojo agreed, and then whined “but he keeps putting me in awful situations.”

“I’m sure,” Nanami responded dryly, “The six year old is doing you injustices.”

“I had to go pick him up today and not only is Suguru a teacher at that school but he’s Megumi’s teacher. He cornered me to talk about Megumi’s punishment. Found out that Megumi is my son. That I’m a dad– Oh my god, what if he thinks I’m not hot anymore cause I’m a dad now, is that possible?”

“What are you even talking about?”

“Fuck wait, that’s not even the craziest news.” Gojo quickly checked himself for how loud his voice had gotten and quickly lowered it, not wanting to disturb the kid. “Suguru is an Alpha .”

“Are you sure, Gojo? He was only ever a Beta. He’d have to have presented very late.”

“I couldn’t be more sure, I know what that man smells like, and there was no mistaking the change, there were pheromones coming from him. He was probably trying to seduce a poor little Omega like me.”

A sigh. “Will you stop spewing nonsense? We both know very well that Geto is not the type to force himself onto someone, Alpha or no, and neither would anyone ever describe you as ‘poor,’ ‘little,’ or even ‘Omega.’” 

Gojo laughed, having to admit he was right there. “Okay all that aside, I’m beyond sure. You know better than anyone that you don’t mistake pheromones. You can hide them, but once they’re out there, it’s all over.” Gojo had had this very idea drilled into him from a young age. 

“But that’s not even the wildest part.”

“You don’t say,” Nanami knew better than to interrupt Gojo’s manic storytelling. 

“He has two kids. Daughters!” 

“Well, we aren’t exactly young anymore,” Nanami responded. 

“Can you at least pretend to be surprised?” Gojo pouted.

“There. I’m surprised. Now, surprise aside, why do you care?”

Gojo was taken aback by this question, why did he care? Was it simply the inane possessiveness he felt for his first time (and if he was cringey enough to admit it, his first love)? Was it the need to get answers, to heal the broken heart he had been left with at seventeen? Was it that just seeing a grown, mature, pheromone-dripped, Geto Suguru had activated something animalistic in him? Paired with a sorrow that it could never work out because he probably already had a partner alongside his two adorable daughters.

Was it knowing that even if all the stars aligned, they couldn’t be together anyway because Gojo wasn’t an Omega. Not really. 

Not publicly. 

“I… don’t know.” Gojo answered honestly. “It’s just a lot. When I heard him call my name for the first time in, what, 8 years? It just made me want to forget about the whole horrible ordeal that happened towards the end. Makes me want to ask why he didn’t choose to stick it out with me. If only I hadn’t caught feelings… ”

“Didn’t know you could get this sappy if it didn’t involve Megumi,” Gojo smiled sadly. Nanami continued,  “You wouldn’t be saying all that if you had seen how he looked at you back then. If you really heard how he called to you.”

“What do you mean? How did he look at me?”

There was a pause, but then the answer was firm. “Like you were his very favorite everything .” 

***

“Girls! Dinner is ready!” Geto called out from his spot in the kitchen, which was attached to the living room. The two bedrooms were located off the entrance hallway, behind where Geto was currently adding the finishing touches to three chicken katsu bowls. 

The girls came clamoring out of their room, already dressed in their pajamas, their hair braided from when Geto had done it earlier. They each came up and grabbed their bowl, taking it to the table in the living room, and sitting on the floor around it. 

Geto joined them, and they all began eating, as was their daily ritual. “How was your day?” Geto asked the same question at dinner every night so the girls responded quickly. 

“Good, class was easy, everyone behaved when you stepped out– well except for that Yuji boy who asked why he had to listen to a kid his age.” Nanako scoffed.

“And we’ve already finished our homework and the practice sheets,” Mimiko finished. 

Geto smiled at them, “Good work, you’re both so clever.” Both girls beamed and returned to their food. 

“Papa,” Nanako started, “Do you know Megumi’s dad?”

“Yeah Papa, I was gonna ask too,” Mimiko piggybacked on Nanako’s question, as she normally did. 

“I do,” Geto answered straightforwardly. Looking at his girls who were expectantly waiting for the answer. “Well, I did…He used to be my friend, we fought and haven’t seen each other since.” Geto tried not to let the true devastation of those words show on his face, nor did he want the girls to know about the much… deeper nature of his and Satoru’s friendship. 

The girls didn’t need to know about the winter break he spent the entirety of in bed, or the following semester where he could barely bring himself to smile along with Haibara– who had thankfully stuck with him all throughout, regardless of how quiet and somber Geto had become. 

The girls also didn’t need to hear about the summer he presented before going to college, and the pain, confusion, and ongoing dreams (one could even call them nightmares) he had had of a certain white haired Omega. Blue eyes staring down at him, and soft whimpers echoing in his mind until he would wake up sweaty, hard, and with a soaked crotch. 

No, he would leave it at that. 

Mimiko looked like she wanted to say something else, but stayed quiet. Nanako, never one to hold her tongue, said, “A lady normally picks Megumi up, do you think that’s his mom.” 

Geto felt a pain in his chest at the thought. To be honest he had been sure that if Megumi had been born of any womb it would have been Gojo’s, but now he wasn’t so sure. 

How far did the Gojo Clan’s reach go? How obsessed were they with hiding Gojo’s true identity? Enough to hire a surrogate and have her act out as a dutiful wife? At first glance, Megumi didn’t resemble Gojo as much as the Omega resembled his own father. Was it possible they weren’t blood related?

“I’m not sure.” Geto answered honestly. 

“I don’t think so,” Mimiko tagged on, “Whenever I see them together, Megumi’s so grumpy to see her.”

“He’s always grumpy,” Nanako corrects, standing up and taking her bowl into the kitchen.

“Nah, he was happy when he was with his dad.” Mimiko did the same. They continued arguing as they walked back into the living room, giving Geto a hug before they headed to their room to play a bit before bed. 

Geto sat at the table, his empty bowl in front of him. The girls did have a point. Megumi glowed whenever he spoke about his dad, but he never spoke about his mother or any other family member. 

Curious, Geto pulled out his computer and did what he swore he would never do. He googled: Gojo Satoru.

The first few links were to various Gojo Enterprises official websites. Then there were interviews with business and fashion magazines alike. When Geto tapped on the ‘images’ tab, there were endless photos of Gojo: Gojo in a suit for a work portrait; Gojo as a child with his family, looking somber; Gojo on talk shows, laughing brightly; thousands of paparazzi pictures of Gojo holding Megumi in his arms, hiding the toddler’s face against his chest and wearing a hat; Gojo dressed in all black standing next to his mother at what was clearly a funeral. 

Clicking that last one, Geto saw that it was from two years ago and that Gojo’s father had died from a heart attack. Geto couldn’t believe that that man was dead. He was sure the hard-headed Alpha fought death right until its door. 

He could still remember the condescending way he had told Geto that Gojo had left, had gone to America without telling him. That Gojo’s identity would stay hidden, indefinitely. 

“If the world were to find out, he would be stripped of all his financial support, of his status as the heir to both corporation and clan, and be abandoned by the life he knows. I want you to really ask yourself, if you’re worth that sacrifice.”

Those words had haunted Geto. They still haunt him to a degree. 

Back then he had truly turned them over on his tongue. Was he worth Gojo’s sacrifice? Would Gojo sacrifice his life for Geto? Should he?

Of course after college… after the girls’ mother, Geto no longer asked himself that. He knew he wasn’t worthy of anyone’s sacrifice.

Geto went back to the search bar and added the word: ‘wife.’

A whole new set of queries appeared. Articles with headlines like “Gojo Enterprise Heir’s Life as a Single Dad,” “Gojo Clan Heir’s Wife Dies from Childbirth Complications,” “Gojo Satoru says he still mourns his wife every day.” 

There were hundreds of articles like this, spanning from six years ago to as recent as last month. Every photo showed Gojo and Megumi in some shape or form, but Megumi’s face was almost always hidden under a hat and a face mask, or against Gojo’s chest. And Gojo always wore his rectangular glasses, sometimes a hat too, but generally he was either looking at Megumi and smiling or glancing at the cameramen and looking pissed. 

Geto kept scrolling, knowing he should stop but only becoming more obsessed the more of Gojo he saw. Seeing him through the years– years he had missed. 

The years they couldn’t have together. There would be no scenario where Geto could be in these photos with Gojo, arm around his waist as they cooed at an infant Megumi together. 

Geto knew this. 

His lips pressed together. He kept scrolling. Gojo with a newborn Megumi strapped to his chest. Gojo with a toddler Megumi, eating ice cream together. Both of them seated across from Gojo’s mother at a restaurant. Gojo as a child himself, cherub cheeks and a seriously disgusted expression that now appears so rarely. 

Gojo in high school in California. Gojo in college, smiling on campus, in an official Stanford digital pamphlet. 

Geto shut the computer. 

Apparently Gojo really did go to America back then. There was always a small part of him that wasn’t sure. That had hoped Gojo had looked for Geto the same way Geto had for Gojo. Or at least, had tried to anyway. 

Geto finished cleaning the kitchen, before checking in on the girls– both sound asleep– and heading to his own room. 

For the first time in a while, he was haunted by sky-blue eyes in his dreams. 

***

“Dad! You’re here again!” Gojo was waiting in the school courtyard with all the other parents and nannies, when Megumi came running out– stopping just short of Gojo, probably trying not to seem too enthusiastic. 

It had been like this for almost the last three weeks– Gojo coming to pick up Megumi personally. The first few days he’d come, Megumi had been pleasantly surprised, walking out of the school and simply greeting his dad, asking if he finished up early today (Gojo would say yes, but the truth was he would have to continue working late into the night after Megumi went to bed). 

The second week, Megumi had lost the surprise-aspect of his expression but was still happy to see his dad. Going so far as to introduce Gojo to different classmates. 

Megumi had dragged Gojo by his hand over to two girls and said, “See? I told you my Dad was tall.” Gojo had waved at the two girls who simply bowed their heads in politeness and had said hello– all with their mouths gaping open. Megumi had looked smug. 

Then Megumi had dragged Gojo over to a pink-haired boy who was standing next to another roughly 15-year old kid who looked rather bored and whose black hair was tied into two wild buns/pigtails. “Yuji, this is my dad.”

“Hi, Megumi’s dad.” The pink-haired boy smiled up at Gojo. Gojo greeted him back, recognizing the name as one of Megumi’s best friends. 

His heart had squeezed, realizing that even though he always tried to prioritize Megumi over work, clearly he hadn’t been doing a good enough job, considering he had never properly met his son’s best friend.

He’d have to change that. 

The third week, Megumi had lost a little of his excitement and simply came to expect his dad to be there, which is why when one day he wasn’t, Megumi was dumbstruck.

That Wednesday of the third week, Megumi had come out of school only to be greeted by his usual nanny. He had turned his head and looked around for his dad. His nanny had implored him to follow her back to the car but Megumi had refused to move, “Where’s my dad?”

“He had to finish up at work, so he told me to let you know he’ll be home by dinner.” Hearing this, Megumi still refused to move. Just frowning. 

Geto, who was nearby and making sure all the children found their respective guardian, had also clocked Gojo’s absence. For the past three weeks, Gojo had made a point of picking Megumi up and lingering around long enough to chat with Geto– it had almost become routine at this point. 

The first time, Gojo had checked his watch and asked, “What time do you normally finish up?” 

“About an hour after the kids leave.” Geto had responded. 

Another time, “Suguru, when did you start working at Komodo?”

“At the beginning of this term.”

Another day, “Where are your girls, Suguru?”

“They study in the library until I’m finished.”

In the beginning, Gojo would ask these one-off questions, lightly smile and nod at Geto’s response before leaving, saying that they’d see each other tomorrow. After a few days of this, Geto had finally decided to find Gojo first and start the conversation, “I like the new glasses, but honestly I’m partial to ones you had in highschool.”

Gojo had smiled, “Ah, what a story. Me too. I lost them while stupidly surfing at five in the morning…” Gojo had gone on to tell him about how he had taken up surfing while in California and, one time, he’d freaked out when he’d thought he’d seen a hoard of jellyfish only to later find out it was only trash. In the midst of it all (i.e. trying to rapidly swim against the current and away from the “jellyfish”) he had lost his glasses. Hours of hunting had turned up fruitless.  

So it went. Geto learned more about Gojo’s life in California, about his life as CEO of Gojo Enterprises, and how Nanami was Megumi’s uncle/god-father (to which Geto had asked, “Nanami? As in Nanami Kento?” and Gojo had responded, “Yeah, thatta one.”).

Overall, just like when they’d first met, Gojo had suddenly became a fixed point in Geto’s life, except this time the fondness and love and pain of their highschool memories had rolled over– not that either of them ever said anything. 

So, when Geto had looked around the courtyard, chaperoning kids to their nannies, and keeping an eye peeled for a spot of white hair (not that he had to look very hard since Gojo was almost always one of the tallest people in any given room), he was surprised that Gojo was nowhere to be found. That was when he heard Megumi’s grumbling. 

“I still don’t get why he’s not here. He would have told me.” The nanny was a serious looking girl with glasses and she had been arguing with Megumi to let her take him home and that he would see his dad shortly. She looked like she was close to throwing the kid over her shoulder and taking him home by force. 

Geto walked over, smiled at the nanny when she looked up at him, and squatted next to Megumi so they were eye to eye. Geto pulled a candy out of his pocket, ones that he’d started carrying around to offer to Gojo when he saw him, and offered it to Megumi. 

Megumi looked at it before pocketing the candy– probably having the same idea in mind as Geto. “What’s the matter, Megumi?”

“My dad didn’t come.” He pouted in a way that so reminded Geto of Gojo.

“I’m sure he had work to do. He wouldn’t want to miss out on picking you up. Why else would he have come everyday for so long?”

Megumi looked at Geto, brows furrowed as if he were thinking over the validity of such a statement. After a second his forehead uncreased, “I guess that could be true…”

“So, why don’t you go with this nice girl and you’ll see your dad really soon. If you want, I can give you my number to give to him, so next time he’s running late, you can just hang out with me and Nanako and Mimiko until he’s ready to pick you up.”

“Really?” Megumi asked hesitantly, but not disapproving of the idea. He didn’t like his nanny, she was mean and constantly brought up that she did mixed martial arts. 

“Really. Here,” Geto reached into his pocket for a pen and asked Megumi for some paper. Writing out his number, he handed it to Megumi. Seemingly pleased, Megumi nodded and took his nanny’s hand, heading toward the parking lot. 

Which is why on Thursday, when Gojo was on time, if not a little early, to pick Megumi up, both Megumi and Geto felt a rush of happiness. Megumi was standing right in front of Gojo, trying to pretend he wasn’t overjoyed his dad had actually shown up today, “You didn’t have work today?”

“Eh, I can do it later. That’s the benefit of being the boss,” Gojo smiled and lifted Megumi into his arms. Megumi struggled a little, not wanting to be treated like a baby, but eventually gave up and just enjoyed being with his dad. 

Gojo on the other hand felt his heart clench at the fact that it was already getting difficult to pick Megumi up. He could still remember when he was just a baby and Gojo would hold him in his arms for hours on end. 

Holding Megumi with one arm, Gojo took his phone out of his pocket and looked around the courtyard. He dialed a number and watched as its recipient picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“I heard you were desperate for me yesterday, like a maiden waiting for her prince.”

“I don’t know if I’d put it in so many words…” Gojo could see Geto smiling into the phone. Geto looked around the courtyard and finally caught the eyes of a smiling Gojo. 

“It’s okay, I know I’m gorgeous.” Megumi made a “bleh” sound and Gojo pinched the leg he was holding, laughing when it was followed by an exclaimed “Hey!”

“No one ever denied that fact,” Geto still smiled at Gojo but Gojo’s laughter died down. Surprised that Geto would so openly admit that. He had to stop the bubbling purr that wanted to come out at the idea that Geto still found him gorgeous. 

“Eh, it’s okay. You’re not so bad looking yourself.”

“I appreciate that.”

Gojo paused for a moment, watching as Geto made his way over to them. They were only eight feet away from each other now. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. 

One. 

Gojo took a step back.  

Neither of them got off the phone. “What time do you finish work today?” Gojo asked, and could hear his voice echo back to him through the phone.

“Not long, maybe 40 more minutes?”

“That’s good.” At Geto’s confused look, Gojo added, voice low, “Go out with me and Megumi after school today. You and the girls. We can go get something sweet. All together?” Gojo tried to appear calm as he asked.

Geto listened to the two versions of Gojo’s voice, contemplating his answer. Was this a date or a play date? Geto didn’t want to read too much into the interaction. But, he couldn’t refuse. At the end of the day, this was Gojo. 

Geto hung up the phone. 

“Okay, I’m sure the girls will love that.” Gojo smiled brightly. “Let me just finish up some things and we can go.”

“Sounds good, we’ll wait here.” Gojo sat on one of the school benches, Megumi in his lap, almost as if he were obediently waiting for Geto to return. That thought did something to Geto, he could feel his pheromones getting stronger, the need to smell Gojo’s own was intense– especially because Gojo seemed to emit no pheromones, almost no different than a Beta. 

God. Fuck. No.

He hated that. Hated how his body’s instincts were almost stronger than his will. How he almost tripped over his steps, almost felt his body turn back around in Gojo’s direction. 

Geto could smell his own pheromones leaking from his glands, and the knowledge of it almost choked it. 

Just breathe. 

He needed to just breathe.

He was in control.

He wasn’t an animal. 

Geto quickly walked back inside the building, trying to escape himself. 

Megumi and Gojo played a few games on Gojo’s phone as they waited. Only looking up when Geto came back out, holding the girls’ hands and walking over. 

Gojo stood up, setting Megumi down. “Ready?”

“Yes, lead the way,” Geto responded. 

“There better be cake,” Nanako grumbled. 

“I’d like cake too,” Mimiko shared. 

***

They looked like a family. That’s all Gojo could think as the five of them sat at the large cafe table. And he knew he shouldn’t like it as much as he did. Knew that if his father were alive to see how… domestic Gojo looked, he’d be lecturing him on his stupid Omegan maternal instincts.

But, they weren’t a family, they were just two friends, out with their families. Gojo had made the waitress painfully aware of that fact when, as she was seating them, she’d turned to Geto and said that he had such a beautiful family, to which Gojo had stupidly blurted, “Oh we’re just friends! Old old friends! Not me and the kids obviously, this is my son, not my friend, though I like to think I am his best friend.” Megumi had frowned, the waitress had awkwardly laughed, and Geto’s jaw tensed. Gojo wishes he could’ve had the foresight to slam his head into a wall, repeatedly. 

The kids were none the wiser to Gojo’s internal turmoil, instead, they were looking at the menu and arguing over which sweets to order.

“The mille crepe cake is the best,” Megumi stated.

“But I don’t like lemon,” Mimiko whined.

“They also have strawberry,” Geto intervened.

“Can’t we get a chocolate cake?” Nanako debated. 

“They don’t have chocolate mille crepe,” Megumi sighed, with an undertone of duh .

“Then we just won’t get the mille crepe cake.” Nanako said as if it was the most obvious outcome. Megumi wrinkled his nose.

Geto sighed, but smiled softly at the children. He looked up to where Gojo sat across from him to see that Gojo was carrying the same expression of adoration, trying to pinch Megumi’s cheek only to be batted away as his son spoke of the validity of mille crepe cake. 

When the waitress came over and asked if they’d decided, the children were still arguing so Gojo interjected, “Two Americanos, with sugar and cream on the side, 3 cold teas, a lemon mille crepe cake, a strawberry one as well as, the chocolate cake, two of the special cookies, a quiche, and a chocolate croissant.”

At that, all the children stopped their fussing. Both girls looked over at Geto as if to ask if it was okay for them to order so much. Gojo quickly added, “Don’t worry, it’s on me.”

“Satoru, you don’t have to–”

“No, no. Come on. I’m the one who invited you out, the one with the sweet tooth, and I have to spend the Gojo Clan money somehow. ” Geto knew better than to argue, so he just smiled his thanks. Unable to help the thoughts of how domestic this all felt.

Gojo was just taking a sip of his freshly arrived coffee (which he’d poured an ungodly amount of sugar and cream into) when Nanako interrupted, “So you two were best friends in school? Why are you not best friends anymore?” Gojo spit up some of his coffee, narrowly avoiding choking.  

“I also want to know what happened.”

“Me too.” Even Megumi was getting involved. 

While Gojo coughed, and wiped at his mouth, Geto simply said, “Our lives just went in different directions. Satoru went to school in America, and as you girls know, I stayed in Japan to take care of grandma.” 

The girls nodded as if this was old news to them, but Gojo had never heard this before– dammit, he should have listened to his gut and hired that private investigator. Instead he’d listened to Nanami who’d said it wouldn't be “moral.” Blah blah blah. 

“Is your mom okay?” Gojo asked.

“Oh, fine now, she just had an issue with her heart right before I left for my first college semester,” Geto said in a don’t-worry-about-it tone, paired with a flick of his hand.

Gojo was trying to think of what to say to turn the mood over from the somber direction it had ended in. Thankfully, the good thing about 3 wild six-year-olds is that they loved to talk. 

“Is that lady who picks you up your mom, Megumi?” Mimiko asked, curiously polite. This one was a lot like her dad. 

Gojo took back what he said. He was not thankful. 

Megumi wrinkled his nose, “No. That’s my nanny.”

“Oh,” Mimiko replied.

“Okay, then who is your dad married to?” Nanako asked. And it was at this point that Geto realized he’d forgotten to mention something very critical to the girls. He sucked in a breath, ready to smooth things over when Megumi replied. 

“He’s not?”

“Then who’s your mom?”

“Dad.”

“What?” Nanako’s confusion was evident. Gojo coughed again as his coffee went down the wrong way. 

Obviously Megumi knew his dad had birthed him, Gojo wouldn’t keep that a secret. Gojo had explained the dynamics of Alphas and Omegas as soon as Megumi was old enough to understand– lest Gojo’s father explain it first and Megumi came away with ideas like “Dominant Alphas are the only worthy second gender.” Gojo got chills just thinking about it. 

Of course when he first explained it and mentioned that he was an Omega, he’d made it clear to Megumi that it was a secret and no one could know. And when Gojo had mentioned that Nanami was a (non-toxic) Alpha, Megumi had gone through a phase where he’d become extremely adamant about them getting married. It was an idea that put chills down both Gojo’s and Nanami’s backs. 

Generally, Megumi was a smart six-year-old, but he was only six. So every now and then he said something like this that caused Gojo to lose a few years of his life. 

Gojo and Geto were ready to step in and laugh this little blunder off when Megumi returned a question, seemingly with a vengeance, “Where’s your mom?”

Nanako and Mimiko just looked at each other, “We don’t have one.”

“... where’s your other dad?” Megumi tried again. 

“Don’t have that either. It’s just Papa.”

Gojo and Geto looked at each other then, and kept looking. Geto’s assumption that Gojo was single and Megumi’s biological parent had been proven correct, and Gojo’s notion that Geto was happily married had been proven false. 

Something blossomed inside the both of them, not completely erasing the hurt they still felt or the cautious way they guarded themselves, knowing that the possessiveness they felt could be somewhat justified now.

The two only broke eye contact when the waitress came back and started setting their desserts on the table.

Gojo took a sip of his coffee, using the cup to hide his softly curling smile. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

The classroom was bustling with the sound of chattering children gathering their belongings. 

Geto was helping each of them, reminding them to not forget their snacks and homework since it was Friday and any food left would rot over the weekend. 

Geto was trying to stay present in the moment, answering the various children’s questions about his own plans for the weekend, but the truth was that his mind kept straying toward a certain blue-eyed Omega. 

Since their family outing, Geto had only spoken face-to-face with Gojo in passing at pickup, exchanging a joke and sarcastic comment or two. But, that was during the day. 

Nighttime was a different story. 

Most of Geto’s nights were spent texting Gojo, who would insist he needed to get back to work, but would consistently bring up a new topic each time Geto tried to end the conversation with a, Okay, sleep well.  

They texted about their kids (Geto learned that Megumi hated red peppers, and he confessed that Nanako had a sweet tooth that battled Gojo’s own).

About their high school classmates (how Haibara hadn’t changed turning any ‘quick’ call with Geto into a three-hour catch-up).

About Gojo’s father (how Gojo hated to admit how peaceful his life had become since he’d passed away; how much better his relationship with his mother now was– not perfect, but better). 

One night Geto was brave enough (or sleep-deprived enough) to text Gojo about his second gender.

           Suguru: So, does no one really know that you’re an Omega?

           Satoru: Well, my mother and maid do. Nanami, Megumi, You… some doctors. But there’s a huge NDA paper trail keeping it all under wraps. 

           Suguru:  And you’re okay with that?

           Satoru: It is what it is. I don’t really have a choice. It’s for the better. For the company. For Megs. 

           Suguru: Sorry for asking, I didn’t mean to pry

           Satoru: Eh it’s okay. It’s better if people think i'm this hot as a Beta makes it even more impressive ;) 

Either way, Geto’s days were filled with Gojo’s snarky sarcastic voice from morning to night. 

And because of it, Geto couldn’t help the silly smile that would randomly appear on his face lately, and people had noticed. Nanako and Mimiko would look at him strangely, but, for once, wouldn’t try to pry the answer from him. 

Megumi had just looked at Geto’s expression and wrinkled his nose, “You too?” 

Even Principle Iori had commented on it, “So Alpha of you, I can smell your happy bubbling hormones from here. You have a new side piece?” Geto had simply laughed and told her he was just happy, no side piece involved. 

But he had been more conscious of his pheromones after that point. Reprimanding himself for losing control like that, happy or no. 

Now, as he helped a student pick up some crayons she had dropped, Geto couldn’t help but think that the “sky blue” color reminded him of a certain someone. 

As if manifesting it, with the crayon still in hand, Geto’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and smiled even wider when he saw Gojo’s name. 

“You know you’re going to see me in ten minutes, right? If you missed me, just say so. It’s unlike you to play coy.” Geto teased. But where he expected Gojo to lob some sarcastic comment back at him, there was just silence and the sound of heavy breathing. A muffled moan sounded as if the phone was being held away from the caller.

“Satoru?” Geto’s smile dropped and he stood up, his voice expressing his concern so much so that Megumi looked up from where he was packing his bag. His eyebrows furrowed but Geto calmly waved his hand to express that everything was alright. 

“Ye-yeah.” Gojo’s hushed voice finally came through the phone and Geto sighed in relief. “Suguru, this may come as a surprise but I’m a little… sick. Can you bring Megumi to the parking lot?”

Geto calmed himself by acknowledging that it was good that Gojo could still be sarcastic, that it meant he couldn’t be that sick, but something else in him panicked at the idea of Gojo being unwell. His instincts told him he had to make sure he was okay. 

“Yeah, of course. Of course, Satoru. Just wait there.” 

“Mmm, okay, thank you, Sugu...” Gojo’s words became more mumbled as he spoke, as if he was closing his eyes and relaxing now that he knew Geto was coming. 

Geto hung up the phone and quickly turned around, “Megumi, can you stay here with Nanako and Mimiko? I have to go give something to your dad quick.”

“Is he okay?”

“Oh yeah, fine. Don’t worry. I’ll come right back and bring you to him.” Geto tried to comfort Megumi, who nodded solemnly. With that taken care of, Geto tried to calmly walk out of the classroom so as not to alarm anyone but as soon as he entered the hallway, he ran.

***

Gojo had woken up this morning feeling like death. He had silenced his alarm and looked at his phone as if it had personally wronged him. He was sweaty and felt as if his insides were on fire. But he had to get up. He had to.

He could already hear Megumi bustling around in the apartment getting ready for school. Gojo sat up, bleary-eyed, and dragged his body to take a cold shower. In his emergency medicine cabinet, Gojo took two scent blockers– since he was clearly already in the beginning stages of a heat, there was nothing suppressants could do. 

Not for a dominant Omega who already had reduced their heats to occur only every four months, anyway. 

Normally on days like this, and through the duration of his heat, he would have someone take care of Megumi and he would work from home, trying to focus on his emails while his body desperately begged him to hump the hot, humming laptop in his lap. 

But now, he and Megumi had fallen into a routine, and Megumi was so happy (even if he didn’t always show it) and Gojo was happy too. He didn’t want to not drop Megumi off at school today. 

Gojo had this. 

He stepped out of the shower, put on some casual, loose clothes that wouldn’t chafe and rub against his skin, then he threw on a hat, glasses, and a mask, hoping it was enough to hide the slight flush to his skin. 

Even Beta’s got sick, right? Right. 

As long as no one got close enough to smell him, he should be fine. Even the scent patches couldn’t help much, he would soak right through them within an hour with the amount of pheromones pouring out of him. 

When Megumi saw his dad that morning, he didn’t say anything about his get-up. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen his dad dressed to go out during a heat. Then again, he didn’t fully understand what it entailed, only ever seeing Gojo during the first day, as Gojo would normally have Nanami or his mother take Megumi during the duration of his heats. 

But Megumi did grab his dad’s hand, squeezing it the way Gojo normally did for him, wanting to let him know that he was here for him. Gojo smiled and squeezed back.

After dropping Megumi off, Gojo had gone back home, called out of office, and headed to his desk to look at his planner. Just as he’d thought, his heat was a whole month earlier than expected. 

Gojo sighed. Could it be from all the time he’d been spending with a certain Alpha? Probably. He was stupid for thinking his normal cocktail of medication would be enough to suppress the actualization of his long-since repressed feelings. 

Gojo suddenly bent forward over his desk, the cramp and heat in his stomach suddenly flaring. He was openly panting. He had to pull it together enough to call his mother… and he would. After he took a nap and tried to sleep off the tremors. He could keep it together until he got Megumi situated at least. He took his scent patches off and headed to his room.

Thankfully, Gojo had fallen asleep quickly. Unfortunately, he’d slept the whole day away and had woken up ten minutes before he was supposed to leave to pick Megumi up. 

In a panic, and not having any other option so last minute, Gojo groaned as he’d gotten out of bed. Panted as he’d walked to the elevator for the second time that day. Sighed when he’d finally gotten into the car and somehow made it all the way to the school parking lot. 

And that’s where he’d stayed. Gojo’s legs felt too weak. His face too hot. His body aching. Even his ass had started leaking. 

Gojo moaned when he went to take off his seatbelt and it rubbed against his nipples. And all of this wasn’t even the worst part. The worst was that he’d forgotten to put his scent patches back on and could feel his pheromones starting to slowly leak out of him– which meant his blockers were officially wearing off. 

Fuck. 

He couldn’t even have his mother help this time since she’d just texted him that she wasn’t in the country currently. 

Fuuuuck. 

Since this was only pre-heat, Gojo was still in his right mind and knew he couldn’t get out of the car to get Megumi, so he’d just have to do the next best thing.

Even if it hurt, even if it made him feel vulnerable. It was that or risk the whole world finding out here and now that he was an Omega. 

So, he called Geto. 

***

“Satoru!” Geto was knocking on the car window. Inside he could see Gojo reclined in the driver’s seat. Glasses off, eyes closed. A face mask on and covering his nose and mouth. Geto knocked on the window again. 

This time Gojo looked over, not lifting his head but simply rolling it to the side to face Geto. Geto couldn’t hear him, or see what he was saying due to the mask, so he mouthed, What?

Gojo tiredly raised his hand to his face and removed the mask. Geto could make out the word, Megumi. 

Geto quickly got tired of their charade game, and indicated that Gojo should unlock the doors. Gojo hesitated for a moment, but obeyed. Geto quickly opened it and sat in the passenger seat before closing the door behind him. 

He immediately knew this was a mistake.

Fuck.

It was like Gojo had fucking hot boxed the car with his pheromones. 

Geto felt his heart begin to race as Gojo’s scent invaded his every nostril, pore, and thought. As his own instincts begged to growl and moan at the sweet scent of warm laundry and freshly bloomed white flowers. Geto felt too hot and he couldn’t even focus on his breathing because it only made him breathe in more of Gojo. 

He smelled so good. 

Normally Gojo emitted almost no scent, burying pheromones under blockers, suppressants, patches, and colognes. But now? It covered the entire interior of the car like a powerful deodorizer. 

The scent wasn’t even that thick, for someone who looked like they were on the door of an intense heat. It was still soft, not too suffocating– yet. 

Geto couldn’t believe that he had known, touched, kissed, fucked Gojo and all without the cloying addition of pheromones. When he was a Beta, and a teenager, sure he got hard quickly but it still took a touch or a thought. Now he could already feel his dick stirring and all he’d done was sit in the car, a few feet from Gojo, smelling him. 

Fuck. 

He was better than this. 

He wasn’t an animal. 

Geto had to keep his head. 

He knew this. 

But as he looked at Gojo– flushed face, panting breaths, and almost glazed eyes– who was already looking back at him, it was enough to drive Geto a little crazy. 

His instincts, ones that still took him by surprise as a late-presenting Alpha, caused his chest to tighten– to want. It felt disgusting. Wrong. 

And yet, right.

He looked at Gojo and all he could think of was half fuzzy memories of a childhood nearly a decade ago. Except now… now Gojo could be his in a way that was impossible before. Gojo could wear his scent, could bare his neck and allow Geto to lick and nibble on those pheromone glands that had meant nothing to him at 17. 

Geto wanted. He wanted it bad enough that his breathing grew deep. Wanted to mark Gojo as his so that he could never leave again. Wanted to hear those moans and see those tears fall as he fucked him so good, saliva dribbling out of his mouth. 

Fuck. 

No. 

Gojo didn’t want that. Gojo could never be vulnerable like that, no matter how Geto’s instincts begged, demanded, cried out for. 

“M–” Gojo rubbed his hands over his face as if trying to clear his mind, effectively taking Geto out of his own spiraling thoughts. “Megumi?” Gojo said again.

Geto turned his body to face Gojo, calming his mind, and pressing his back into the door. He was not an animal. He was a man. He wouldn’t succumb to thought and desires. He respected Gojo too much. 

“I left Megumi with the girls, I wanted to check on you first.”

“Mmm. Good,” Gojo tilted his head back up toward the roof of the car and closed his eyes. 

“Do you have anyone we can call? To watch him?” Geto asked, trying to game plan. 

Sweet pheromones brushed over him. They smelled like a freshly bloomed bouquet of sickly sweet white flowers. Geto knew if Gojo looked at him right now, he’d see pupils blown wide.

God, how had he been missing out on this all those years?

“Normally, yes. Normally Nanami– when he’s in town– or my mother… watch him during my heats,” Gojo wriggled and took a tired, uncomfortable breath. “But my mother is on a ‘girls trip’ in Paris right now, so by the time she gets back, my heat… my heat would be nearing the end anyway.” Geto huffed a laugh when Gojo proved himself lucid enough to raise his hands and make air quotes. 

“That’s not ideal.” 

Gojo hummed his agreement. 

“Okay, why don’t I watch him? Don’t pout like that. I’ll make sure he gets to school on time and is well fed and all the other important things kids need. I can call my mother, have her meet us at my house, and she can watch Megumi and the girls until I drop you off at yours.”

“I can agree with you watching Megumi, but you don’t have to take me home. I can totally… totally drive back myself once I let the kid know I’m not dying.” Gojo peered over at Geto, and Geto gave Gojo a look that said Are you serious? Look at yourself. Gojo smiled, nodding, “Okay you have a point.” He lets out a deep sigh. Then just, “Okay, let’s do it your way.”

Geto nods, although Gojo is no longer looking at him. He was about to get out of the car to grab the kids and bring them back here when he realized not only did he have a light hard-on but he would also be reeking of Omega heat pheromones right now– not exactly ideal for a school environment. 

So instead, Geto asked to borrow Gojo’s phone and used it to call the phone he’d left in the classroom. It took two tries, but finally a little voice picked up, “Hello, Geto Suguru’s phone.”

“Mimiko?”

“Oh, hi Papa. Where are you?”

“I’m outside in Megumi’s dad’s car. Can you grab my bag and Nanako and Megumi and come to the parking lot? I’ll find you once you’re here.”

“Okay! We’re coming!” Geto could hear her call for Nanako, and Nanako’s bored “Who was it?” before the line cut. 

Looking at Gojo, Geto reaffirmed that Gojo was in no state to drive, and that he also only had one car seat in the car. Confirming that the parking lot was empty, Geto got out of the car, taking a few deep gulps of the fresh air before walking over to his own car to grab the two car seats he had. 

When he transferred both seats into Gojo’s car, he took a moment to prepare himself (he could do this, he was not his instincts) before reaching over to the passenger side to drag Gojo from the driver’s seat. Gojo was all long lithe limbs and it was surprisingly hard to get him from one seat to the other. Not to mention that as Geto grabbed him Gojo would let out soft, barely contained moans and whimpers, sandwiched between half-remembered and awkward “Sorrys.” Geto would simply reply that it was okay. 

He didn’t need to mention how hard his cock was right now. 

When Gojo was finally in the passenger seat, Geto took a moment to softly brush those white bangs off his face. Marveling at those big silver eyelashes and blush-hued cheeks. 

As he straightened to head over to the driver’s seat, Geto heard two little voices calling out “Papa!” Geto turned and saw all three kids standing at the entrance of the parking lot; the girls waving at him and Megumi standing slightly to the back looking over the girls as if trying to get a glimpse of his dad.

Geto looked around, ensuring there were no vehicles or people moving about, before calling them over with his hand. All three ran over as quick as their little legs could go.

Megumi arrived first, instantly trying to get around Geto, “Where’s my dad?”

“He’s–” Geto started, to try and explain that Gojo was fine and just feeling under the weather and that he shouldn’t be shocked by what he sees, when suddenly the man himself piped in from where he sat in the passenger seat.

“Megumiii! Why do you always look so serious?” Geto looked back and was shocked to see that Gojo was sitting up straight, his words no longer slurred or sandwiched between moans. His eyes looked a little clearer too. Geto almost worried he’d hallucinated everything, if not for the evident pheromone scent wafting from the car and the flush of Gojo’s cheeks. 

When Geto looked closer he could see sweat glazing Gojo’s forehead and temples, but Gojo continued to smile at his son as if it were just a regular Friday. 

“I don’t look serious, you’re the one who looks ugly.” 

A shocked gasp, “Now, Megumi, you know I’m gorgeous.” Megumi simply rolled his eyes– this was clearly a frequent conversation he had to deal with. But Geto noticed that although Megumi looked annoyed, his whole body had actually relaxed as soon as he saw his father was acting in his normal odd way. 

Thankfully, the children were too young to have presented and therefore didn’t comment on the pheromone soaked car as Geto buckled them in one by one before jumping into the driver seat himself. 

As he pulled out of the parking spot, he looked over to see that Gojo had sagged slightly in the seat as if exhausted. One hand was resting on his stomach, and the other had reached past his head, through the gap between the seat and the window and was currently grasping the air in front of Megumi as if he was waiting for something. Geto and the girls watched as Megumi silently took that hand and squeezed it, Gojo squeezed back and the two stayed like that. 

Geto caught the girls’ eyes in the rearview mirror, giving them a look that made it clear they shouldn’t say anything. Mimiko nodded and Nanako made a motion of zipping her lips. 

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Geto explained the situation to them: that he would drop them off at his apartment where Grandma will watch them until Geto comes back after making sure Gojo got back home. 

The girls were excited by the news that they got to hang out with their grandma, and they even looked forward to hanging out with Megumi, as they’d grown to like him over the past few months. But Megumi just interjects, “Do I have to go?” 

“Aren’t you always begging me to have a sleepover with your friends? And you even get to have a sleepover with my best friend. I’m very jealous.” Geto watches as a drop of sweat rolls down as Gojo works to keep his voice and tone as steady and normal as possible.

“But why don’t you sleep over too? He’s your friend, not mine.”

“Eh, I don’t want to get you sick.”

“You wouldn’t.” Megumi mutters. 

Gojo is quiet after that, unsure to what degree and understanding Megumi means those two words. Finally, Gojo decides to just go straight for the kill.

“Megumi,” a hand squeeze, “can you do this for me? I don’t feel so good and will feel much better if I know someone I trust is watching over you.”

Megumi nods and squeezes the hand back. The car falls into silence. Satisfied, Gojo closes his eyes and fights a grimace when he feels another pulsing wave of heat roll through his body. What makes it so much worse is that he’s so much more sensitive to Geto’s pheromones– not that there are more than usual, Geto has been respectful since the moment they reunited to keep his pheromones in check and only letting out what he can’t help releasing. 

But now… now, Gojo bites his lips and fights salivating over the perfect, musky, smokey deep forest scent. Fights squirming in his seat as he feels a need to be touched, a need to be held down, to be marked by the scent of an Alpha that is wholly his. 

God, how Omega of him. He almost smirks thinking about it, about what his father would say if he found out Gojo wanted to be scented, marked, attached to an Alpha. 

They’d been driving for twenty or so minutes, when Geto looks at the backseat and softly says, “They’re all fast asleep…”

Gojo turns his head to look, seeing Nanako and Mimiko with mouths gaping open and soft breaths escaping. Gojo squeezes the tiny hand that’s still clutched in his own, and only feels a half twitch/half squeeze returned. 

“Mmm,” he hums, “one of the few benefits of being an Omega, especially a Dominant. For some reason the pheromones really calm down children. It used to be helpful when Megumi was a baby and wouldn’t sleep.” Of course the pheromone cleanup afterwards, removing all traces of an Omega in his residence, was a task in itself. But a peaceful, happy newborn Megumi was worth it. 

“I didn’t know that…” Geto responded as he pulled into a small street.

“Yeah, people only talk about the seductive nature of Omegas, right?” Gojo weakly laughs.

“I didn’t say– I never thought that.” Geto responds. 

“I know.” And Gojo meant that. 

They stopped in front of a small residential home that was quaint, and obviously separated into two different units. Out front was a small older woman with silver streaked black hair and a smile that reminded Gojo of Geto’s. This must be his mother. 

“Just wait here,” Geto placed his hand on Gojo’s chest to press him back as he reached to take his seatbelt off, and that single touch set Gojo on fire. He tried not to moan. No matter what, heat or no, manically whimpering at such an unsexual touch was embarrassing for Gojo. So, he just nodded and sank back into his seat. 

Geto got out of the car, greeted his mother, and opened the backdoor to carry the children one-by-one inside his home. He brought in Nanako first, then Mimiko. Finally he came around the car and opened the door to take Megumi. 

Gojo felt Geto pause, but was unsure why until he felt Geto’s hand lay over his, the one that was still clutching Megumi’s. Gojo reluctantly let go, one finger at a time, but Megumi’s small hand held on, clutching frantically, even in sleep, until Geto had to slowly pry each finger off Gojo. Once they were separated, Geto carried Megumi inside. Gojo watched, holding the hand that had just been holding his son’s a moment ago to his heart, which was fluttering at the sight of that Alpha carrying Megumi so carefully. 

Gojo had to stop the way his mind raced through scenarios where the five of them would go to school together, eat breakfast together, cuddle on the couch together– like a big family. 

Geto came back, jumped into the front seat, and pulled away from that small house Gojo had only just seen for the first time and yet which had already made a lasting impression on him as somewhere a family should be. 

“All okay?” Gojo muttered as he pressed his face to the cold window and clutched his abdomen, all pretenses of being fine gone now that Megumi wasn’t here. 

“Yeah, they’re all still sleeping, I just wanted to give my mom your number in case Megumi woke up scared or wanted to talk to you.” 

“Always so thoughtful, Suguru.” Gojo managed, not a single note of sarcasm in his voice, only genuine appreciation. 

“It was seriously the bare minimum. Now does this fancy GPS already know your address?” Gojo leaned over and pressed a few buttons before clicking on the destination labeled: ‘Home.’

Geto looked at where the address was, and paused, recognizing the building name. He looked over at Gojo. He knew Gojo was rich, but sometimes he forgot because… well, Gojo was just Satoru to him. The building they were currently driving to was notoriously known as a skyscraper that housed Japan’s elite: top models, actors, CEOs, heirs, etc. So it made sense that Gojo lived there, but still. 

Geto drove quietly, occasionally glancing over at Gojo, trying to ignore the waves of pheromones coming off him and the way his own heart raced. The way his whole body seemed to lean toward Gojo until he unconsciously reached out with one hand and pressed his palm to Gojo’s cheek, “How do you feel?”

Feeling that warm calloused palm holding him so delicately, Gojo leaned into the touch, eyes closed, “Good. Amazing in fact.” Geto smiled at the obvious sarcasm, but didn’t move his hand from where the Omega had begun to rub his face against it. Gojo sniffed softly at the hand on his face and purred at the soft scent of those musky pheromones. 

“I missed that.”

Gojo opened his eyes, “Missed what?”

“That,” Geto rubbed his thumb over Gojo’s cheek, cradling his face more, “the purring.”

Gojo finally clocked the sounds of his own purrs, but he didn’t stop, “You know I’m not the only Omega out there who purrs, right?” He smirked sadly at Geto. It hurt to acknowledge that there were other, more openly Omegan, Omegas out there. Ones that could make Geto happy. 

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been with any other Omegas.” Geto looked over at Gojo, and Gojo couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed when his purring grew louder. 

It was the only sound in the car until Gojo interrupted it. 

Tired of the pain and discomfort, Gojo didn’t think too hard about the implication of his next question, “Suguru…?”

“Mhmm?”

“Can you release some of your pheromones, please?” Geto didn’t question it, the pained, desperate tone Gojo never employed was enough to convince him. He just didn’t want to over do it. He didn’t want to risk losing control. 

So, Geto slowly, carefully, released some pheromones into the car. 

Gojo immediately responded, the whimpering turned to moans, the purring grew louder, his body relaxed, and he rubbed his face into Geto’s hand, humming softly in pleasure. 

They drove like that for a while, until they finally pulled into the parking lot of Gojo’s building– which had authorized security and everything. 

Only then did Geto remove his hand. Gojo frowned at the loss, squirming in discomfort. Needing to feel the Alpha touching him, soothing the burning ache under his skin. 

When they finally reached the private parking area Gojo had, Geto looked around to make sure all was secure, that no one was around. Realizing it truly was a private parking area, with an elevator right in front, Geto felt he could finally calm down. 

“Okay, we’re here.”

Gojo pouted, “Can you bring me up? I feel too weak to walk right now.” When Geto regarded him with a suspicious look, Gojo simply deepened his pout, which only raised Geto’s suspicion. 

But what could he do if Gojo said he needed him?

Geto got out of the car and wrapped an arm around Gojo, supporting him as he leaned against Geto. They waited for the elevator together, and when it arrived, Gojo swiped his keycard and they headed to– of course, Geto thought– the penthouse. 

They were staring at each other's reflections in the elevator’s mirrored walls. Gojo still had that pink flush to his face, and he was leaning against the Geto in a way that showed off his lithe body. Geto forced himself to avert his gaze.

“You’re not married, right?”

“What?” Geto asked at the sudden question. 

“Or have a partner or anything?” Gojo asked again. 

“No?”

“Good.” Gojo sighed as the elevator dinged open. Gojo dragged a confused Geto out by the front of his shirt into the entryway of his home. 

Geto didn’t even have a second to look around before Gojo pressed him against the wall and brought their faces close together until their lips only barely touched. 

“Tell me you want this,” With each word Gojo asked, his lips lightly grazing Geto’s own. “Tell me you want me.”

Gojo felt the true reality of his heat pulling at the last remnants of his sanity, but he needed Geto, and he needed to know Geto needed him too– while he could still remember to ask and wasn’t simply an overheated mess stripping out of his clothes and messily fingering himself wide open. 

Geto looked into the blue core of Gojo’s eyes, past the fluttering eyelashes, of this beautiful Omega who had hurt him, who he could hurt, who he had loved, who still held so many of his fond memories, who he needed so desperately his mouth had been overly salivated since the moment he’d seen him in that car– flush and pliant. 

“Always Satoru, but…”

But… would this make things better or worse between them? They still couldn’t be together. Gojo would never allow it, would never willingly let Geto openly call him his. The instinctual almost painful way he wanted Gojo wouldn’t overshadow the heartbreak he’d felt in the past. 

Just because they slept together again didn’t mean Gojo wouldn’t up and leave the way he had before– cutting off all ties. Couldn’t decide to just keep Geto his private little secret, away from prying eyes. 

Geto didn’t know if he could handle that, and with his two girls he very much couldn’t afford falling into a depression the way he had the first time. Things were different now. But maybe… maybe that’s why this could work. Even the dizzying effect Gojo’s pheromones had on him now was proof of that. Gojo’s confidence now showed that too– a truer, happier confidence than the blasé insecurities of his youth. And that went for both of them. 

Geto also didn’t want to risk hurting Gojo. He wanted to believe he wasn’t an animal but… he had already proven that statement false to himself once in the past. He was proving it to himself now too with how his desire for Gojo was overriding any rational thought. 

He just wanted . 

He wanted Gojo, his body, his heart, this life with him, this life they’ve had the past few weeks, this life they could have. And none of that would happen if Gojo wouldn’t let him in, if Geto couldn’t be what Gojo wanted him to be– the soft and sweet Geto of his memories. 

Geto wasn’t sure he could be or have either of those things. Not anymore. 

“Suguru,” Gojo purred against Geto’s lips, drawing his attention back to the pliant, gorgeous, sexy Omega in front of him that smelled so good. Geto didn’t want to not be with Gojo. He was scared of being hurt again, of hurting him , of losing Gojo completely, but he was more scared of not having Gojo fully, as they were now. 

He wanted to hear Gojo panting under him, he wanted to hear those moans caused by him, and he wanted to run his canines along those pheromone glands until Gojo couldn’t think, smell, or come for anyone else. 

Fuck it. 

Having made up his mind, Geto grabbed Gojo by those white locks and pulled him into a forceful kiss that squashes their lips together. And thus, after eight long years of being haunted by each other, Gojo and Geto finally breathed the other in fully, and it was like coming home. 

They drew apart to kiss softly once. Then again. Getting used to the feel of the other. The taste. Taking note of how much, and little, the other has changed. Then Geto runs his tongue along the seam of Gojo’s mouth, begging to be let in and Gojo obeys– officially lost to the thralls of his heat and desires. 

Gojo wraps his arms around Geto’s neck, and Geto presses a hand to Gojo’s lower back, both trying to eliminate any space between them as their mouths learn the shape of each other. 

Gojo had some advantage being taller, but with Geto’s sheer force of will and gentle release of pheromones, Gojo’s legs almost gave out. His cock was getting harder with each sweep of Geto’s tongue against his. 

Gojo met the kiss, whining softly as he pulled on Geto’s shirt. Geto paused the kiss only long enough to take his shirt off. Pecking Gojo throughout, murmuring, “You want me, baby?”

Gojo whimpered at that old nickname, loving how right it felt. He nodded his head and latched onto Geto as soon as his shirt was off. Running his hands along his body, feeling the indentation of bone and muscle. 

Gojo was so wet he was surprised his pants hadn’t soaked through. He still felt hot, and though it wasn’t as painful as before, it was still fervent. Driven by need. He clawed at Geto, digging his hands into those long black locks. 

Geto pulled Gojo’s mouth off of him, using that white hair as a handle to angle Gojo’s head so that his neck was exposed. Gojo easily moved, moaning, fingernails digging into Geto’s scalp. 

Geto kissed a trail up Gojo’s neck, and Gojo felt hysterically desperate, his cock throbbing. It had been so long that he was actually worried he’d come right there and then. His moans only became more pitifully desperate when Geto prodded the pheromone gland with his nose, smelling Gojo right at the source. 

Geto ran his teeth over that spot before gently licking and sucking on it, growling softly as the pheromone oils coated his tongue. 

Gojo’s eyes rolled back in his head. He needed more. More touching. More pheromones. More pressure. But all that came out of his mouth was “more… Suguru… please.”

He was panting at this point. 

Geto returned his lips to Gojo’s before he started walking them into the apartment, shoes be damned. Gojo simply fell into the kiss and let Geto lead the way, walking backwards until he felt something hard and cold hit his back. 

He paused to open his eyes and look around but before he got the chance, Geto picked him up and set him on the kitchen island. 

Gojo towered over Geto, not that Geto minded– it gave him easier access to other things. 

Geto kissed Gojo’s neck, collarbone, and down the front of his shirt, until he reached and sucked on a nipple, soaking the cotton that covered it. Gojo moaned, begging. His body was so sensitive that the wet cotton drove him insane. It felt like being touched by calloused fingertips. 

The torture stopped for a moment and Gojo looked down to find Geto looking up at him with glassy eyes. The pheromones rolled off his body in a way that told Gojo that Geto was just as turned on as he was. 

Gojo watched as Geto lifted the bottom of Gojo’s shirt and brought it up to his mouth. “Bite it,” he commanded softly, but commanded nonetheless. The Omegan need to please his Alpha accepted it without hesitation, his mouth instantly soaking it with saliva.

Now, without anything to obstruct his ministrations, Geto kissed down Gojo’s torso, sucking, lapping, and biting at each nipple in turn. Gojo’s moans were muffled but Geto could smell the onslaught of sweet pheromones he kept releasing. 

Geto placed his hands on Gojo’s waist, pulling back after a moment to marvel at how small and dainty the Omega’s waist looked under his large calloused hands. He fought the urge to squeeze that dip tightly. Loving how that waist, that skin, looked like it belonged to him when he flexed his fingers around it. The animalistic instincts inside him telling him it was his. That it was breakable and delicate and his to protect. 

Leaning forward to kiss the hollow of Gojo’s neck, his hands tightened. Gojo moaned, and Geto took the opportunity to nip at that pheromone gland again, whispering “I love how your waist feels under my hands,” before he continued to kiss down that torso, slowly pushing Gojo onto the counter surface. 

He pecked kisses down Gojo’s chest, down his stomach, licking his belly button before following the fine silver-white happy trail to the waist of his pants. Gojo’s stomach tightened with arousal and he tightened his legs in an effort to stop the flow of slick that poured out of him imagining Geto’s mouth on something else.

Geto paused to look down at Gojo, who lay on the counter, soaked t-shirt still in mouth, eyes glazed over, cheeks pink, chest rising and falling rapidly. Geto regarded how his hands looked cupping each side of Gojo’s waist– something so deliciously delicate. Geto had almost forgotten the chronic obsession he had with Gojo Satoru’s slutty little waist.

Geto finally dragged his attention to the pants in front of his face and unbuttoned them slowly, looking Gojo in his eyes throughout. When they were finally undone, he paused, “Is this okay?” Gojo frantically nodded and Geto continued to slide them down Gojo’s long slim legs until he was completely naked from the waist down.

Gojo squeezed his legs together as if trying to hide how wet he was, but Geto already knew. He could smell the deeper, richer fragrance of slick. Enough to know that when he pried Gojo’s legs apart– and he would– that the sight would be glistening. 

“Don’t you dare hide from me, baby. I want to see.” Geto gently pulled Gojo’s legs apart, and was met with the delicious sight of a hard cock and leaking hole. 

“Is your cock sore? Should I take care of it for you?” Geto asked as he kissed down that happy trail once more. Gojo released a few frantic muffled moans. Geto was sure that if he’d had a finger in that sweet slicked ass, he would have felt the muscles tighten in that moment in desire. 

Geto continued kissing the soft skin, straying occasionally to bite and suck on the softer stomach– leaving Gojo ridden with small marks on this private area of his body. 

Geto kissed down toward Gojo’s hard cock, which was already glistening in precome and throbbed on its own. 

But just as Gojo felt the breath of Geto’s mouth against him, Geto swerved and lifted one of Gojo’s thighs, kissing the sensitive inner skin.

Geto kissed and bit and sucked on the skin there until a few marks were left there too. Geto felt a satisfied thrum pass through him at seeing the Omega covered in his marks. But that didn’t stop the need to make Gojo his. To cover him in his pheromones, kisses, bites, marks, saliva, and cum. And to have Gojo do the same to him. 

He really needed to get a hold of himself. 

But how could he when Gojo was dripping precum in the form of gorgeous little dew droplets that Geto just wanted to run his tongue over.

“I’ve always wanted to taste you. God, I’ve imagined it for so long…” Geto stuck his tongue out and took a teasing lick at Gojo’s slit, lapping up those leaking drops, “but I could’ve never imagined it would taste so good.”

Geto continued his teasing, kissing the area around Gojo’s cock again, but just as before, just as Gojo felt that breath on his cock, Geto lifted the other leg, placed it on his shoulder as well, and started kissing the supple inner skin there. 

Gojo fidgeted, getting frustrated by the teasing attention Geto gave him. His cock twitching with each lick and breath Geto tortured him with. Gojo wanted to cry. He spit the shirt out of his mouth and made a grab for Geto’s head, trying to guide him, “Stop teasing me Suguru, I can’t… take… it.”

Geto simply grabbed the feverishly hot hands that tugged at his hair, kissing each palm before pinning them to the surface near Gojo’s hips. He looked at Gojo, whose entire chin was shining with saliva. “You’re still such a brat…”

Before Gojo could respond, Geto took all of him in his mouth, sucking him deep down his throat.  Any thought Gojo was about to verbalize was lost to the loud moan he let loose at getting his cock engulfed into a soft, warm, wet cavern. 

Gojo’s hands fought against where Geto pinned him down. “Let go, Suguru! Let go! Please, please, just… let go. You’re… ah! Ah!” Gojo’s tone went from frustrated to begging to moaning as Geto licked and sucked on the cock in his mouth. Gojo’s thighs squeezed Geto’s head, warming his ears.

Geto continued to lick at the base of the cock before moving to the slit at the top, tasting the salty precum. Geto let go of that cock with a pop, and smiled at Gojo, “You taste so good, baby.”

Gojo was going to melt, everything in him screamed to make this Alpha his, his, his . 

Returning to lick and suck with a new vengeance, Geto wanted to taste all of Gojo. Gojo started squirming wildly, trying to loosen his arms from Geto’s grip. “Please, I’m… Wait… Wait!” Geto held strong, sucking deeper. “Please, I just need… I need to cum.” Gojo was crying now, a few tears escaping as he finally removed one of his hands from Geto’s grip. Gojo immediately went to grip the base of his cock, when Geto grabbed that hand anew. 

Looking up at the tear-streaked, still-squirming, flushed Gojo, and down at his saliva-covered cock, Geto gave him a somber look, almost tsking, “Satoru, your Alpha is right here, so what more could you possibly need?”

Gojo whimpered. He was so close to cuming he felt like his cock was on fire. It wasn’t enough for Geto. He needed to hear Gojo begging for him. Needed him to admit that Geto was his Alpha. 

Geto readjusted his grip on Gojo’s hands, moving them so he could hold both in one, and then Geto pushed them until both hands were pressed against the counter above Gojo’s head, causing Gojo’s back to arch slightly. 

Geto kissed those pouty lips, kissed each tear-soaked cheek and eye, and pressed his own hard (cloth-covered) cock onto Gojo’s wet one. They both moaned against each other, resting their foreheads together. 

Geto kissed Gojo’s lips again, “You okay?” 

Gojo felt his heart surge and his body become pliant, wanting to be good for Geto, “Yeah.”

Nodding, and smiling fondly at him, Geto pressed two fingers to Gojo’s mouth. Gojo immediately sucked them in, running his tongue up and around them. Geto’s cock twitched as he imagined himself being sucked and licked and moaned around as Gojo’s cheeks hollowed. 

When his fingers were sufficiently wet, he removed them from Gojo’s mouth, pecking those lips gently, “Who knew you could be such a good boy.” Gojo wanted to say something snarky back but he was too busy preening, unconsciously releasing more sweet-smelling pheromones.   

Geto lifted Gojo’s leg, and it pliantly fell open and to the side. He began kissing Gojo’s neck as his fingers slowly made their way to the trembling hole. Geto breathed deeply, it was so wet, his fingers slid around and found their mark easily. As he slowly pushed in, Gojo took a shaky breath. 

Geto was only two knuckles and two fingers deep. This wasn’t even close to where he needed to be to get his cock in there. All he wanted was to shove in, to feel that tight wetness pulse around his cock, tearing be damned but, no, he was saner than that. 

“Does it hurt?” Geto asked, kissing Gojo softly between each word. 

“No, no. It’s just…” A breath, “It’s just been a while.” Gojo looked off to the side in embarrassment. Geto let go of the grip he’d had on Gojo’s hands, and instead gripped Gojo’s face so they were looking each other in the eyes. He kissed Gojo slowly, again and again, until his body began to relax and his pheromones flowed happily again. 

“It’s okay, baby,” Geto pushed and combed back the hair on Gojo’s head, until Gojo leaned into the touch. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispered. 

Before Gojo could say anything else he was suddenly flipped around to his hands and knees, a hand pressing his chest to the counter and making him arch his back, presenting his ass to Geto like a meal. “Hey, what are you– ah! Oh, fuck!”

Geto was lapping at the slick that poured out of Gojo’s hole. He licked at it, getting high off the taste and scent. He sucked on the sensitive rim and Gojo moaned, hands gripping at the marble countertop with no purchase. Gojo couldn’t tell his own pheromones from Geto’s anymore, all he knew was that he felt his stomach heating and pulsating with the need to be filled with cum. 

When Geto was able to prod the entrance with his tongue and feel some give, he brought his fingers back up and pressed them into the loosening hole, and, unlike the first time, they were sucked all the way in. Geto kept licking the exterior while pressing the interior– spurred by the sound of Gojo’s moans and “yeses” and “pleases” and “so good Sugurus.”

His finger’s kept twisting and searching, even as he added a third and Gojo felt a delicious stretch he hadn’t experienced in so long. 

Where was it? I think I remember it being somewhere… With a twist of his hand one final time, Geto felt a slightly smoother area and pressed down. Gojo immediately pressed back into Geto’s hand and tongue, crying out, his cock twitched and he came instantly. 

Gojo’s body was boneless, and Geto had to wrap an arm under his hips to keep them up. Geto felt the pulsating of Gojo’s orgasm around his fingers and tongue, proof that he’d satisfied his Omega. Geto kept lapping up the slick until Gojo’s body stopped trembling and pulsing, only then did he yank Gojo down so that his feet touched the ground and his hips rested on the ninety-degree angle of the counter– perfectly in-line with Geto’s own. 

Now numb, happy, and loose, Geto’s cock easily slid into Gojo’s body. 

Geto moaned, gripping Gojo’s hips tightly. It was so tight, so wet, and his cock slid in almost all the way to the hilt. Geto pulled his hips back and slammed them back in, again and again, until Gojo swallowed all of him. 

Gojo grunted at the stretch. It hurt but in such a good way. It had been a few years, but Gojo was sure that Geto had gotten bigger since the last time they were together in high school. Much bigger. 

As Geto pulled out and shoved his hips back in, Gojo just exhaled with each push. He could feel Geto stroking his hips with his thumbs as he pounded into him. Muttering praise. 

“God you’re perfect.” And, “I missed your body.” And, “It’s so good, baby, I’m gonna lose my mind.” And, “I missed you so much.” And, “Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. ”

At some point in all those mutterings, Geto had twisted his hips in such a way that ignited something in Gojo. His tired cock was already hard again– dripping. 

Gojo desperately dug his hands into the marble counter, his ass getting rammed into. His senses overwhelmed by the pleased pheromones Geto was releasing at having rendered Gojo into only speaking monosyllabic sounds. 

With another twist of his hits, Geto began drilling into that spot and Gojo’s eyes rolled back into his head as he started moaning. Geto was relentless, with every thrust he kept hitting that same exact spot.

“Su– ah! Guru! So go–od” Gojo knew he sounded desperate but he didn’t care.

It felt so good. Like too much, and yet like not enough. Gojo could feel saliva running down the side of his mouth and onto the counter where his cheek was pressed against the cool marble. He wanted– no needed – more. 

“Suguru,” Gojo slurred, his tongue heavy, “please, I need–”

Geto slowed down the pump of his hips, leaning forward to hear Gojo better, “What do you need, baby?”

A sob choked out of Gojo, “Your knot, please, please I need it.” The words were desperate.

Geto’s hips faltered, his knot? Gojo wanted his knot? Geto swallowed before resuming his motion and slamming back into Gojo, rewarded with a loud moan.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you what you need.”

He’d give Gojo anything he could offer, his smiles, his heart, his soul, but not this. As much as hearing Gojo’s choked sobs and pleas ignited a fire in Geto’s gut, he couldn’t offer him his knot. He couldn’t risk hurting Gojo. He’d sworn years ago that he wouldn’t knot– wouldn’t hurt anyone. And that included Gojo. Especially Gojo. He only wanted his Omega to know pleasure. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered again, though to whom Geto wasn’t sure, “I’ve got you, Satoru.”

Geto kept pumping his hips, faster and faster, releasing more pheromones as he brought his hand around to Gojo’s front, gripping the wet cock and starting to pump it. 

The two worked quickly in tandem, until the movements became frantic. 

“That’s it, baby,” Geto cooed when Gojo’s hips started chasing his own orgasm, “Come for me now.”

Gojo came quickly with a mewling moan, and Geto quickly followed, pulling out and coming on Gojo’s back. 

The two panted and Geto looked down at Gojo’s gaping, twitching hole. 

His dick stirred and he felt the animal side of himself begging to go again. Begging to listen to Gojo and just knot him. To ignore any pain or tearing and just fill Gojo up again and again until he was pumping the Omega’s stomach full of his cum. 

It’s what he should do. It’s what he wanted to do.  

He quickly reprimanded himself, he was better than this. He didn’t want to hurt Gojo. 

After another minute or two, Gojo finally stood up, supporting his weight on the counter, feeling like his legs were gonna give out, “You know, you could have come inside.” He was still breathless.

Geto leaned forward and cupped Gojo’s face as if he were about to kiss him, “You know I can’t, that’s just your heat talking.” Plus if he’d come inside of Gojo, Geto isn’t so sure he would have been able to stop. 

“Tomato, tomato,” Gojo replied, and Geto huffed a laugh because it really was a ridiculous answer. 

Sighing, Geto stroked Gojo’s cheek with his thumb, “Let’s get you washed up.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll sleep better with an Alpha’s pheromones and… presence on me. Bleh, I know, but in a few hours I’m going to be a horny mess again. So, better that than being in pain.” Geto moved his hand to rub at Gojo’s reddened eyes.  

“You’re very smart, Satoru.”

“I know. Gorgeous, too.”

“Yes,” The two smiled at each other in the dark living room.

Then Geto cleared his throat, “I have to go back soon and alleviate my mom from the children.”

“I know, ever the responsible one.” Gojo tried to smile, fighting the ache in his chest that the Alpha, really his Alpha, would be leaving him so soon. He’s not sure when he started thinking of his relationship with Geto in terms of ‘mine’ and ‘yours.’

Maybe it had always been that way but he’d never known how to say it. 

Geto was his Alpha, and he was Geto’s Omega. It was the only thing that felt right.

“Could I stay a little longer, though? I don’t have to leave yet. I should just be there before they wake up in the morning.” 

Gojo preened, a little longer was great. “Are you going to miss me that much?” He teased.

Geto just answered, “Yes,” and Gojo smiled brightly.

They looked at each other for a second before Gojo pushed off the counter and started walking towards his room at the end of the hallway. Geto watched as Gojo’s naked silhouette walked slightly ahead of him. 

Geto made a mental note to bite his ass next time. 

When they got to the bedroom, Geto noted that the bed wasn’t cleanly made, but covered in blankets and pillows and other fluffy plush things. He stopped in the doorway. 

“You finally made a nest, huh.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Gojo stopped at the edge of the bed, staring down at it as if seeing it for the first time. “Funny enough it was Megumi who pushed me in the right direction. Called my room boring and bland. Then whenever he’d come to sleep with me as a toddler on the weekends, he’d always insist on bringing a pillow or blanket from his room and I just… I just realized how much better I slept, how much more relaxed I was on those days. So anyway,” Gojo looked at Geto at last with a sad but fond smile, “Here we are, little by little, even this nobody Omega has his nest.”

After a moment, he added, “The maid isn’t even allowed in here.” 

“Well if you ever need anything, just ask.” Geto tried to softly offer, wanting Gojo to know that he was happy for him. Here for him. 

“I’d appreciate that. Now stop being so sappy and come lie down with me.” Gojo pulled Geto down onto the bed with him, curling up into his side, resting his head on Geto’s chest. Geto hugged Gojo’s shoulders, pulling him closer, before pressing his nose onto the top of that white head and taking a deep calming breath of those pheromones. Both bodies were complete jelly from fucking and calm from the pheromones circling the air.

The nest smelled so much like Gojo, was so plush and comfortable, that Geto found himself feeling truly relaxed for the first time in a while. It almost made him nostalgic to know that he could have had this so long ago. That he could have spent countless days in bed with Gojo. That it wouldn’t have taken a toddler to comment on how boring Gojo was to make the Omega build a nest, but rather it could have been Geto’s gentle encouragement. 

They could have been doing this years ago. 

“You know I was going to try and find you in America all those years ago.” Geto whispered it into the dark, quiet room. Almost as if offering a confession. He felt Gojo’s head shift lightly on his chest. 

“Really? When?”

“After you left High School, I didn’t know where you went, I couldn’t find out either. It was all very secretive apparently. No one knew. And your house was empty so I couldn’t ask anyone there. So I had decided to just get my degree in America, I wanted to teach English anyway, and I could find you from there.”

It was quiet in the room. Geto wasn’t sure he could even hear Gojo breathing. “But… right before the start of the semester, my mom got sick, and she was really sick. My dad needed me. So I couldn’t just leave. So I told myself I’d just start a semester late, that I’d apply again. But then… then I presented, and life felt so overwhelming. I lost my seat at NYU. I won’t lie, it was rough.”

He took a deep breath, “By the time my mom was on a good track, and I was feeling better too, I applied to some universities again but only got into a local one. And by then… I hadn’t heard anything about you, and I figured you may have moved on from me. So I focused on getting my degree and finding you later, but then I had Nanako and Mimiko.” Geto left the rest unsaid. 

It was quiet for a moment as Gojo processed all the information. In the end all he said was, “I thought you got a scholarship at University of Tokyo?”

Geto made a noise in his throat, “Actually, that’s one of the schools I didn’t get into.” 

Confused, Gojo lifted himself on his elbows a little to look at Geto, seeing that he was serious Gojo stayed silent. Brain processing. Geto had never had a scholarship there? Then… the papers his father had given him… had been fake? It had never been real. Geto had never chosen a scholarship over Gojo. 

Gojo couldn’t help the soft laughter that escaped him at how stupid he’d been to blindly trust his father, someone who only ever wanted Gojo fully under his control. 

Geto had actually chosen Gojo, again and again.

In the end, Gojo just muttered, “I’m sorry I didn’t try to find you too.”

Geto simply patted his head and began to lazily draw patterns on his shoulders. Gojo was at peace in a way he’d only felt a handful of times in his life. With this last thought, Gojo’s eyes fluttered shut and he fell asleep. 

***

At a random in-door horse derby race in Japan, on a Saturday morning, the sounds of blowing whistles, beating hooves, shouting men (in desperation and elation), and the announcing siren of current winning positions echoed in the space. 

Amongst all these men, who each wore their emotions on their sleeves and who watched the race in anticipation– gripping the armrests of the plastic red stadium seats– there was one man who lazily lounged across three seats in a corner, alone. 

He was eating a hot dog and watching the screen where the current standings were displayed. The horse he bet on was not even close to the front– as was the usual case for the bad bet-maker that he was. 

He was used to this by now, his money gone until the next job came around, where he would bet it all the moment it hit his bank account and start the process all over again. Every few times, he did win (always second, never first), and that was enough to bring him back. 

The man was sprawled across the seats, wearing nothing but a black fitted shirt and oversized gray sweatpants, even though it was December, and, having lost interest in the race, he was scrolling through his phone. 

Fushiguro Toji was in the middle of searching up nearby casinos when a search alert notification popped up at the top of his phone. 

Toji quickly clicked on it and opened a micro-tabloid’s website. The header read, “Gojo Clan’s Heir on Family Outing?” 

The image was of the Gojo Heir at a small cafe in Tokyo sitting with a black-haired little boy, two girls, and a man with long black hair. At first glance, it could easily be assumed that the black-haired boy belonged to the man– but that wasn’t the case. 

Smiling, Toji cropped the image and added it to the digital folder he had. It was filled with pictures of the Gojo Heir living his life in Tokyo, sometimes alone, and sometimes holding a black-haired child. 

Getting up from his seat, leaving his trash behind, Toji checked his bank account. There was just enough for one last bet… and a one-way train ticket to Tokyo. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

San Francisco – 2010

The bar was dark, dim, and half empty. Which made sense since it was a Monday afternoon, but also because this bar was generally off the beaten path of what was popular with the local college students– the cheap places with fun little trivia nights. 

No, Gojo preferred this one, it was pricey enough and deserted enough that he didn’t have to worry about anyone bothering him.

Because of his standing as a major conglomerate’s heir, and his extroverted personality, and (let’s be honest) general good looks, Gojo had gotten quite popular on the Stanford campus. Even students in the neighboring universities knew who he was and wouldn’t hesitate to come up to him when he was out for dinner or having a drink with his classmates– people who wouldn’t hesitate to call him their ‘buddy’ even though Gojo didn’t share those sentiments.

This had been Gojo’s life for the past two or so years he’d been at university. Pair that with all the new responsibilities his parents had pushed onto him– it could all be too much at times.

Which is why he would sometimes come to this empty, desolate bar that was only filled with rich, old white men quietly drinking their bourbon and talking about various stock options. 

Gojo was running his finger around the rim of his cocktail, normally he didn’t drink, too paranoid about losing control of his pheromones– which was still possible even with the medical cocktail he was on of suppressants and blockers– but today he felt like he deserved it. 

He was still dressed in the tux he’d had to wear to the event his parents had made him go to. It was some quarterly gala for all their top investors– which meant it was filled to the brim with Alphas. 

Gojo had had to take extra blockers, wear scent patches and stay on alert the entire night to avoid any slip ups, while simultaneously schmoozing with various old men who didn’t hesitate to let the world know they were Alphas. 

The entire event had caused him to break out in a cold sweat and a throbbing headache. Reminding him of his childhood when his father had made him go through rigorous “training.” 

Which basically entailed locking him in a room and pumping it with Alpha pheromones again and again until Gojo could endure sitting there quietly and not falling into a heated, blubbering mess. 

Of course, he only had to look calm on the outside– his father only cares about appearances after all. On the inside, Gojo had been going crazy, his heart would race and his mind would scream with the need to be filled, to release his own pheromones and match the ones he was smelling. 

But if he did that, he would be punished.

What made the gala he went to that night even more annoying was that his parents used it as an opportunity to set him up on blind dates with various Beta girls. This was something he’d had to do at least once a week since he’d come to Stanford, his father insisting that it was the only way to ensure no one caught on to Gojo’s “baser nature.” 

Of course there was also the idea that the sooner Gojo got married, the sooner they could stop worrying about any speculations about why the Gojo Clan heir wasn’t settling down.

So he’d had to listen to the annoying tittering of various women who were all desperate to carry the next Gojo heir. Pair those voices with the headache he had and Gojo had definitely left those women with the impression that he was an utter asshole. 

Which, like, was fine by him. 

What had really pissed Gojo off was that at one point, when a girl named Becky (Becca? Betty? Martha?) was talking to him and telling him how much she hated her Calc professor, he’d seen a black-haired head moving through the crowd. The hair was styled in a tight bun and the body was decently wide. 

Gojo’s heart had stopped. There hadn’t been a day his traitorous mind hadn’t thought about Geto Suguru since the moment they’d parted ways. Sometimes the thoughts were fond, other times they were angry enough that Gojo would throw something, but mostly they were sad and pitiful. 

So when he’d seen that black-hair, he’d come up with a half excuse (something about needing to wash his hair) and walked across the massive space before placing his hand on that person’s shoulder.

“Sug–” The person had turned, and Gojo instantly saw that he had been mistaken. This person didn’t look anything like Geto, and now that he was closer he could see the hair wasn’t even styled the same. “Ah, I’m sorry. I mistook you for someone else.” 

Gojo quickly let go and walked away. He didn’t care if there was still an hour left or that he was supposed to give a speech at one point. Gojo walked right out the doors, hailed a cab, and took it all the way to the bar he was currently moping at. On his second drink, and wallowing in the memories of his younger self. 

It didn’t help that he was just tipsy enough for his memories to stray into the territory of how good it had felt to be fucked by Geto. What their few times together had been like. How sweet and intense the kisses had been. 

Normally, Gojo would try to steer his thoughts away from this pathway, but every now and then he would remember how tenderly Geto had held him and how good it had felt to be filled up by him and the Omega in him would pant, and rage against the cage the suppressants had forced it into. 

Long story short, he would get a little sad and a little horny and find himself needing to indulge in something sweet. 

In the beginning, when Gojo would start to feel the intense need to be, let’s be honest, dicked down, he would just stay in his apartment and take care of the issue himself with various toys he had purchased. But this would only leave him feeling even sadder afterwards.

But about halfway into his freshman year, Gojo had been out with some of his classmates in a crowded bar, when a handsome Beta had come up to him and started flirting. He’d been a bit cringey, complimenting Gojo’s eyes and how gorgeous he was, but Gojo had been tired of feeling lonely. Tired of only being able to think back on the intimate memories he’d had with Geto when he felt hot and irritated. Tired of not feeling a proper soothing touch when he came, talking him down from the high.

It helped that the Beta was easy on the eyes, that he had dark hair and intensely serious eyes. So Gojo had asked him if he wanted to get a drink somewhere else, and they ended up back in his apartment. 

To say it was… underwhelming… would be accurate. 

It started out passionately with wild kissing and what not. But then the Beta had opened his mouth and started talking. 

“Do you like that,” he’d said while shoving Gojo to his knees and slapping his face with his average-sized cock. 

“God you love this don’t you,” as he crudely shoved his fingers into Gojo’s dry hole. 

And, “Are you close?” as he see-sawed in and out of Gojo, only to come inside and then fall over panting. 

Gojo had stared at him in confused disgust for a moment before telling him to get up and the fuck out. 

Afterwards, Gojo had taken a long shower, just thinking through what the fuck he’d done to become like this in the first place. 

He’d allowed himself a good cry under the hot water, feeling disgusted in his own body for the first time, before he pulled it together and went to bed.

As time went on, Gojo got better at picking Betas who were good in bed and who offered to be discreet. Gojo even realized that if he made a show of lubricating himself up, most of the Beta men were too stupid to realize he was an Omega.  

Of course there were still a few bad apples, like the one who’d tried to video tape the whole thing, the one who’d been obsessed with smacking Gojo’s ass, the one who insisted Gojo would “love watersports,” the one who choked him a little too hard, and the one who insisted he “wasn’t gay” the entire time. 

And so the rest of his Freshman and Sophomore years went. Blind dates, Gojo-Clan-run galas, classes, and the occasional heated night with some random Beta that satisfied him temporarily but would always leave him wanting more. 

Gojo was just finishing the cocktail in front of him, trying to grab the loose cherries situated amongst the ice with his tongue, when he felt the presence of someone sitting next to him. 

Slowly putting the glass down, Gojo looked over to his right to find the man already staring at him. 

He was muscular, not too tall, had short black hair, a cocky face, and a scar that cut through the corner of his mouth and caused the onlooker’s gaze to be drawn to his lips. He was Asian, like Gojo. And as if that wasn’t enough, the man was surrounded by pheromones as if he were wearing a strong cologne. It was smokey, velvety, like old leather. 

The man was an Alpha. 

Gojo turned his attention back to the cherries in his drink, trying to stab them with the straw. He tried to pay the man no attention, his presence somehow both gentle and overwhelming, but Gojo’s ears perked up when he heard the man’s voice and its deep, lazy rumble. 

“I’ll take a whiskey, and another one of whatever he’s having.”

As the bartender walked away, Gojo turned back to his neighbor, “I wasn’t planning on having another.”

“But then you’d have to leave.”

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t want you to,” the man paired this statement with a slow smile that said he was used to getting what he wanted and what he wanted currently was Gojo.

Gojo cleared his throat, “I didn’t even like this drink. Why would I get another one?”

The man laughed, “Is that why you were trying to lick the last dregs of it away? Because it was bad?”

Gojo was silent. He had a point. “Well, if you’re buying, I guess it wouldn’t be awful to have another.” The man rested his elbow on the bar and propped his cheek against his fist, watching Gojo like a predator, and Gojo couldn’t help the shiver that went through his body. 

“Since I’m buying you a drink, could I at least know your name?” The bartender came back with their drinks as if to accentuate the man’s statement. Gojo picked up his cocktail and took a sip. 

“Satoru,” Gojo had grown used to the American custom of offering up your first name, and often emitting your last, even to strangers. 

“Satoru…” The man repeated as if feeling how the word sounded in his mouth, on his tongue. Seemingly satisfied, he offered up his own name, “Toji.”

Gojo took another sip of his drink, processing the name, he turned forward again, ready to ignore Toji as he tried to quickly finish his drink. Suddenly a finger appeared in his view, and that finger rested on the rim of Gojo’s glass before pushing it down slowly until it touched the counter and Gojo was left with just an empty straw in his mouth. He glared at the man. 

“Since you’re enjoying your drink, Satoru, shouldn’t you at least indulge me in the pleasure of your company?”

“You already asked for my name. You sure like asking me for things.” Gojo scoffed and returned his cup to his mouth. 

It seemed like a few minutes had passed before Toji spoke again, “I don’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“You said I like asking for things, I don’t. I like taking. I like having.” Gojo looked over at Toji and swallowed. It was evident what he wanted, his pheromones slowly and lazily washing over Gojo as if begging him to come closer. 

They were watching each other. At some point Gojo had leaned forward a bit so that they were close enough that it would seem as if they were sharing a secret to anyone who looked on. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Toji said as his eyes swept over Gojo’s face, before tracing the silhouette of his body. 

“I know. Smart, too.”

Toji continued as if he hadn’t heard Gojo. “More gorgeous than any Omega I’ve ever seen.”

Gojo choked on his drink, turning his face away to cough and try to clear his airways. He quickly looked around the bar to see if anyone had heard. But all the other patrons were far away and the bartender was nowhere to be seen. 

Relieved and recovered from his coughing fit, Gojo tried to maintain his composure and asked, unbothered, “Why do you say that?”

“It’s obvious,” Toji simply replied, leaning back slightly as if to see Gojo better. 

“You’d be the only one to think that.” A pause, and then as if to prove his point, “I’m taller than you.” Gojo realized he was no longer trying to deny it, more curious as to what the man was thinking. 

“That’s okay, I like it better that way.” As if to emphasize the point, Toji let his gaze trail down Gojo’s body, down his torso and legs, setting his insides on fire. It had been a minute since he’d been with anyone and his body wanted it, wanted to feel someone else’s touch. 

“You seem like you like keeping secrets,” Toji drawled on, keeping his eyes on Gojo’s. “I can be your secret,” he whispered.

“Why would I want you?” Gojo played it off, played off the way his body was already getting slick. The way his eyes would occasionally find themselves gazing at the Alpha’s scar, at his mouth, his lips. 

“I don’t think anyone’s ever really shown you how much pleasure an Omega’s body can feel.”

“You’re cocky.”

“No, just sure.” Toji was looking at Gojo, not breaking eye contact, causing the Omega to unconsciously squirm. 

Just as suddenly as he’d started all this, Toji broke eye contact to look at Gojo’s now-empty glass. He pulled fifty dollars out of his pocket and threw it on the bar before getting up. Gojo watched him, admired the tight pull of his t-shirt against those bulging muscles and tapered waist. 

“My hotel is next door.” He didn’t say anything else, but Gojo wasn’t stupid, he knew what he was asking. Gojo looked Toji over again, pretending to think it through, when in all honesty he’d already made up his mind. Even the possibility of potentially being able to forget about Geto was too good to give up. Each time he fucked some random Beta, all he could do was compare it to Geto, and how much better it would be with him. 

But Gojo had never been with an Alpha. There was no way Geto would even come close to how this Alpha would make his body feel– it was too instinctual. 

Plus Toji seemed quite a bit older than Gojo, enough that they probably wouldn’t run into each other ever again, and although everything his parents had ever drilled into him screamed that succumbing to an Alpha was below a Gojo heir, was simply a result of his baser self, Gojo wanted to be able to have this for himself. 

Wanted to be able to be himself in a way he hadn’t ever been. 

Gojo got off the stool and Toji took it as the agreement it was, walking out of the establishment and trusting Gojo would follow. 

He did. 

The two walked together silently, all the way to Toji’s hotel and into the elevator. In the private space, Toji leaned against a wall and watched Gojo, probably trying to see if he was going to back out. 

“Don’t get attached,” Toji broke the silence, “I’m no one’s boyfriend.” Then as an afterthought, “Some Omegas are clingy.”

“I was just about to tell you the same thing,” Gojo leaned against the opposite wall, facing Toji. “Some Alphas are possessive.”

A scoff and a grin, “Touché.” Then Toji ran his eyes down the length of Gojo’s body in obvious lust, “You don’t have to worry about that, Satoru.” 

“You haven’t seen what I can do yet. How wet I am already.” Toji’s nose flared and his cocky smile grew and he watched Gojo reach up and peel his scent patches off, allowing his pheromones to escape freely. 

“Don’t go acting like a Princess and back out when we get to the room and you come to your senses.”

“I won’t,” Gojo bit back.

The elevator doors opened on the twelfth floor and Gojo followed Toji until they were in front of room 12H. “Just say ‘I want to call my daddy,’ if you want to stop at any point.” Gojo’s cheeks flared at having been pinpointed as some kind of daddy’s boy– an extremely false assumption, obviously. But he thinks Toji had probably figured that out, which is why he’d made up such a stupid safeword. 

“Are you going to open the door, or do you want to go have a candlelit dinner somewhere?” Gojo lobbed back. Toji simply smiled and swiped his keycard leading Gojo inside the room. 

The door opened into a modest hotel room, it was rather spacious but only included one queen size bed, a desk, and a mini fridge. The bathroom was right next to the entrance, and directly in front of Gojo were large floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over San Francisco. Despite the beautiful view, the entire room was a dull palette of beige, white, and buttercup yellow.

Gojo was staring at the hotel room when he felt Toji press against his back, his pheromones getting stronger and causing Gojo to take a deep breath and lean back into him. Lips moved against his ear, “Strip and get on the bed.” 

He could feel a hard cock press against his ass.

Gojo didn’t move right away. “Afraid?” Toji prodded.

That little question was enough to push Gojo into motion, not wanting to prove Toji right. Gojo walked into the hotel room, moving with a little more sway to his hips, feeling the Alpha’s gaze on him. 

He removed his tux jacket, kicked off each of his shoes, turned around to face Toji before slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He looked down to see Toji was indeed already hard, and smirked as he tossed his shirt to the ground, “Excited already?”

Toji simply smiled, “Pants too.” Gojo undid his pants and stepped out of them and his underwear. He was about to sit on the bed when Toji spoke up again, “Kneel on the bed.” Gojo raised a brow and moved until he was kneeling on the bed, facing Toji.

The Alpha walked closer and Gojo’s body hummed in anticipation, but before the distance between them could close, Toji stopped about two feet away from the bed. Gojo looked up at him, watching as those dark blue eyes roamed and ate up the sight of his body. 

“Finger yourself,” he commanded. When Gojo didn’t move, Toji released more pheromones, trying to lull the Omega, “Finger yourself until I can hear it,” he repeated. 

Not one to back down, and slightly intoxicated by both alcohol and pheromones, Gojo looked into that cocky face and brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them deeply before lifting his hips slightly and pressing them into his begging hole. 

He couldn’t help but close his eyes and moan at the intrusion. It felt so good, calmed the licking heat that had been enraging his body. He pushed one finger, then two, all the way in, breathing loudly as he pushed them in and pulled them out over and over until he could smell the slick and hear the squelching in the air. 

He needed more, more than his own fingers. It was driving him crazy to know that Toji was watching him, undoubtedly seeing the flush spread from his cheeks down to his chest, hearing his gasped moans as he hunted for that spot within him that may just give him the satisfaction he was looking for. 

He was so frustrated, so desperate that he didn’t even open his eyes when he felt Toji lean over him and press two of his fingers where Gojo’s own currently occupied. Feeling Toji prod his dripping hole, Gojo went to pull his own fingers out, but Toji held him in place, “Did I tell you to stop?”

Gojo opened his eyes and his heart hammered at the domineering tone. He whimpered at the stretch of four fingers, two of his and two foreign ones, working together to push and pull. He could hear how wet he was, dripping both from the back and up front. His cock was hard and wet with precum. 

He was so close, and when Toji twisted their fingers, pushed a little deeper, finding that soft spot inside of him, Gojo moaned loudly and came, panting as his cock let loose a spray of white. 

“Did you really come from only your hole? You really are a slut,” Toji laughed deeply and Gojo’s cock twitched at the words. He was too tired to argue. 

Gojo watched with drooping eyes as Toji pulled back, looked down at Gojo, and licked the slick off his fingers. He hummed. Then, he gripped Gojo’s face, and shoved his fingers into the Omega’s mouth. Gojo was pliant and accepted the fingers, tasting the tangy-sweet taste of himself. 

“See how good you taste, baby,” Gojo licked the fingers before wrenching his head back to look up at Toji.

“Don’t call me baby.”

Toji laughed, “Okay, noted, princess.” With that Toji pulled his cock out of his pants and Gojo watched it bob. It was big, easily the biggest Gojo had ever seen, and he was thinking about how he would get that inside of him when Toji grabbed the back of his hair and pulled his face forward. 

“Suck it,” he demanded. And Gojo did, too high on pheromones and his recent orgasm to want to do anything else but taste the Alpha on his tongue. 

Gojo choked and licked at the base as Toji pulled and pushed his head at the speed he wanted. 

The taste of precum coated his tongue and something animalistic inside Gojo loved knowing he was responsible for turning this Alpha on. He opened his mouth further to take the cock deeper. 

When Gojo took it too far and started choking, bringing his hands up to push against Toji’s thighs, the Alpha simply tsked, pulling back just enough to allow Gojo to breath for a second before driving his hips all the way forward. 

With Gojo’s nose almost touching the hair that led into Toji’s happy trail, his throat convulsed slightly, trying to open further, to make room. Tears leaked out of his eyes.

Toji stopped moving, leaving them as they were, stroking Gojo’s lips which were stretched around his cock. “Have you ever had your throat knotted?” 

Gojo’s eyes flared and Toji laughed. “Maybe not this time,” he sighed, “I wouldn’t want to scare you off…” with that Toji began thrusting his hips again, faster and faster.

“Swallow it.” With that command Toji pushed his hips forward one last time and came down Gojo’s throat, watching as the Omega’s throat worked to swallow the heavy salty load. 

When Toji pulled out, and Gojo could finally breathe, he did not remove his hold from Gojo’s hair and face, “Open wide, show me what a good boy you are, Satoru.”

The demand was paired with a light tug to his hair and Gojo felt himself getting wetter. He opened wide, sticking his tongue out to show that nothing of what Toji had given him was left. 

The Alpha smiled and released Gojo, pushing him onto the bed so that he lay on his back, before crawling onto the bed himself, situating his body between Gojo’s thighs. 

Toji pulled Gojo’s hips closer and draped those long slim legs over his own thick thighs. 

Toji looked down at the pleasured Omega beneath him and felt that animalistic pride, releasing more pheromones to ensure an obedient, pliant partner. He reached forward with one hand and fondled the Omega’s pec, lightly pinching the nipple, which resulted in him whimpering and squeezing Toji’s hips with his legs. 

“You Omegas always have the softest, pert little pink nipples.” He pinched it again, watching as Gojo’s cock stirred. 

Toji let go of the nipple he’d been torturing and grabbed onto both of Gojo’s hands, which had been gripping the sheets near his head, leading them to the Omega’s own thighs. He positioned them so that Gojo was holding onto his legs, spreading himself wide open. 

Toji looked down at the still pulsating hole, the area that was dripping with slick, and gripped his own cock. Stroking it a few times before situating it at the entrance.

Feeling the large head, Gojo suddenly took a deep gasping breath, “Wait– ah!” As soon as he spoke, Toji had thrust his hips forward and stretched Gojo so wide he thought he was seeing stars. His body ached so much he was sure he was gonna tear. His grip on his thighs tightened to the point of pain. 

Toji pulled his hips back and pushed in again. Gojo could feel him in his stomach, as if his cock were ramming into his organs. He grunted and moaned loudly. 

“ You're such a good little slut for me, Satoru. Your hole is eating me right up.” Gojo moaned at the praise, releasing more slick so that the next time Toji pulled back and shoved in again, he entered Gojo all the way to the hilt. 

Toji’s deep moan caused Gojo to clench down around him. 

He can’t believe he had been fucking Betas this whole time. His body was responding to Toji in an instinctual way that set him on fire, that made him feel delusional. As Toji fucked him, he heard himself muttering words like “Toji” and “so good” and “harder.” 

At one point Toji had moved from watching Gojo from above to kissing and sucking on his neck. It felt so good. Amazing. Toji’s tongue licked at Gojo’s pheromone glands and at this distance Gojo could clearly smell Toji’s own. His cock was throbbing and he was desperate. 

He let go of one of his thighs, twisting the leg around the Alpha’s torso instead, and brought his hand down to start pumping his cock as Toji drilled into him. He was lost in his pleasure, begging for more. 

“You want more?” Toji asked, biting his ear. Gojo whined, tightening around Toji, pumping the hand around his own cock faster. 

“Should I mark you?” Toji nipped at Gojo’s neck, to enunciate his question. 

Gojo was lucid enough to not just agree to anything the Alpha asked, but something inside him screamed yes!

“Don’t… you… dare…” Gojo panted. Toji pulled back to look down at Gojo, smiling as he snapped his hips forward harder, faster. Gojo was lost to his own moans. He came before he’d even realized it and Toji stopped his own pumping as the hole he’d been fucking tightened around him. 

Gojo was like jelly, he didn’t think he could move anymore, like he was lost to oblivion. His cock ached. His ass ached. He couldn’t cum another drop. 

Toji pulled out but before Gojo could whine at the loss, he was flipped around so that he was on his stomach, dazed by the sudden change. 

“You came before me again,” Toji said as he lifted Gojo’s hips. 

When Gojo felt that monstrous head prod his entrance he tried to twist around, but Toji pressed him into the mattress. 

“Wait, I just came,” Gojo yelped, fully aware that Toji planned to fuck him again. 

“Who told you to do that?” Toji tried to lift Gojo’s hips again. 

“Wait. Stop.” Gojo tried to crawl forward on the mattress, to get away. 

Toji grabbed his hips and yanked him back, “You don’t really want that. If you did, you could always say our safe word…” Toji taunted, waiting, and when it was clear Gojo wasn’t going to say anything, he shoved his cock in again. 

Gojo yelled and then moaned. He was so full, and despite the painful stretch, it felt so good . Toji started pumping his hips once again and Gojo’s face was rhythmically pushed into the mattress. 

His moaning turned into a sudden yelp when he felt something smack his ass. Toji kept fucking him as his ass was spanked again, and again, and again. Until he was whimpering. 

“That was for misbehaving. I have no interest in fucking brats. Everytime you come before me, you’ll get spanked, understood?” When Gojo didn’t respond, he was spanked, and then quickly agreed that he understood. 

“Good, good. All you have to do is be a good little Omega for me.” Toji rubbed at the spot he’d hit. 

No one had ever asked that of Gojo, he wasn’t even sure what that entailed if he was perfectly honest, but he was drowning in his pleasure enough to want to try. 

Gojo’s insides were on fire, he could feel his cock hard and dripping again. From this angle, Toji’s big dick kept hitting that sensitive spot inside Gojo and it was driving him crazy. He was trying to think of anything else, anything so he wouldn’t come right here and now. 

As Toji continued to rail into him, Gojo suddenly felt a weird pressure building up inside him. 

“Wait, wait. Pause for a second,” Gojo reached back with a hand to push at Toji’s thigh, but Toji simply grabbed it and twisted it around Gojo’s back, continuing to fuck him at that quick-hard pace. 

Gojo tried to squirm away, panicking as he felt the pressure rising, intensifying. Fuck. Fuck. They needed to stop. Now! 

Before Gojo could try to escape again, Toji thrust in one more time and Gojo squirted all over the mattress. The liquid was as clear as water, soaking a spot under him. 

Tears were escaping Gojo’s eyes as he hid his face in the mattress. 

“Did you come again?” Toji’s awed surprise was followed by two quick spanks and Gojo’s water-logged yelp. 

But when Toji looked at the mattress and saw that it wasn’t cum but something else, he laughed, “God, you are something. How has no one figured out a slut like you is an Omega yet?”

Gojo turned to look back at where Toji was grinning above him, but Toji wasn’t looking at him, instead he was watching as his cock penetrated Gojo’s hole. Over and over. At the way it sucked and puckered around his cock. 

Gojo was too tired, too well-sated, had come too many times, that he couldn’t even care that his pheromones were releasing into the room. Up until this point, thanks to the suppressants and his control, Gojo barely emitted any pheromones, but now, the room was soaked in his and Toji’s. Filling the space like a warm cloying fog.

Toji was obsessed with the way he sank into the Omega, at the tight squeeze of that hole. But when he smelled a sudden onslaught of those soft, sweet, floral Omegan pheromones, something broke inside him. 

Something that needed more. Needed to see more tears, more cum, from this Omega. Needed to make this Omega his if even just temporary. Needed to fill him up until his stomach was swollen with cum. 

Gojo was so tired, felt so raw from pleasure, that he was openly moaning and crying as Toji fucked him. That he was spreading his legs wider, pushing his hips back to meet that thrusting cock. 

He was so lost in the motions that he didn’t even notice at first that the cock inside of him had begun stretching him to the point of pain. But when he did notice, when he came back to his senses, his eyes widened. 

“Hey! What are you–” Gojo whimpered when he felt the knot grow even larger. When he felt Toji lean over him and kiss up his spine and to the sensitive area behind his ears, moving to lick his pheromone glands.

Gojo tried to move, whining, “It hurts. It hurts!”

“Shhh, don’t move, or you’ll tear.” Toji whispered through moans. “ Fuck – I’ll make you feel so good,” Toji let loose more pheromones, overwhelming Gojo’s senses until he felt his exhausted body relax and his legs spread wide. 

The knot finally stopped growing but it felt like Gojo was being torn apart. He whimpered, tears running down his cheeks, and then moaned when he felt a sticky heat flooding his stomach. 

Gojo squirmed and wriggled as his stomach started to swell– he’d never felt this full from a Beta. 

Even through the pain, and the discomfort, something inside Gojo was deeply satisfied at being filled up. Toji pulled Gojo against his sticky, sweat-soaked chest and rolled over so that they were both on their sides. The Alpha’s cock continued its steady pour of cum inside him until they finally felt the knot coming down. Gojo’s pheromones were able to freely escape in a way they often could not, and Gojo quickly lost consciousness with a swollen stomach and a pulsing cock still inside him.

His last thought before sleep fully took him was about how softly Geto had kissed and touched him, and how nice that was. Even for a Beta. 

***

Gojo woke up in pain and alone, the sun barely breaking the horizon. He went to sit up and groaned when he felt the pain in his back and something leaking out of his ass. His stomach was swollen and ached from all the cum that was probably sloshing around inside him. 

A pause. 

Fuck. 

They hadn’t used condoms. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

It was Gojo’s first class of the day and he was already so tired, but that had been an ongoing theme for the past week or so. He’d get home, too tired and nauseous to eat, toss and turn all through the night only to fall asleep right before his alarm went off. 

It had been torture and the slowly purpling skin under his eyes only further proved the state he was in. It had gotten to a point where he wore his sunglasses everywhere, even in his afternoon classes where the sun had already set at an early 6pm. 

He was currently in his International Theory of Marketing course, the lecture hall lined with 200 other students, all sitting across the wooden rows, idly typing on their computer as the professor spoke on some psychological phenomenon that involved human perception of color. 

Honestly, Gojo hadn’t paid attention to a single thing.

All he could think about was the nausea he was currently feeling and the rolling of his stomach that he tried to ignore by biting his inner cheek until his mouth filled with a warm iron taste. 

School had been rather uneventful these last two months; he hadn’t been forced to go to any parties, hadn’t had any hook ups– not since that Alpha had left him with a leaking creampie and a bill to foot. Something Gojo had only found out when he had been walking out of the hotel (after taking a long LONG shower, enjoying the gentle ache in his back) and the receptionist had called out to him and said that the “dark haired gentleman” had claimed that Gojo would pay for the weeklong hotel bill.

It’s safe to say that Gojo had been a few moments away from losing it, but, not wanting to get into it with the receptionist or risk making a scene at the hotel (there was no need for any photographs of the Gojo heir leaving a hotel in a rumpled suit at 7am to circle the media), he had paid it and spent his entire cab ride home grumbling about how he should have trusted his instincts and how Alphas sucked– all of them.

Since then, all had been so abnormally peaceful that Gojo couldn’t even be surprised when he got sick– which clearly is what this nausea was. 

It was. 

Yeah. 

Gojo was sure of himself. He’d probably caught something while studying at the library. It was March afterall, still in the midst of flu season. 

The flu made you nauseous, and queasy, and… bloated. 

Yeah. 

Gojo was in the midst of a pep talk that was growing all too familiar at this point, when his stomach decided to roll for real. His throat filled with an acid-y pre-taste and before he could get up, before he could run out the door and try to make it to the bathroom, he felt his nostrils sting and his stomach heave. With no other choice, something that was definitely not approved by the Gojo Clan-hired etiquette teachers, Gojo opened his designer backpack and vomited all over his pens, textbooks, and the miscellaneous candies he had in there. 

The class went quiet, and the girl seated behind Gojo dry heaved at the sight of someone vomiting. 

Feeling his stomach roll again, Gojo didn’t have a chance to consider how fucking embarrassing that was as he grabbed his bag and computer, stood up, said, “Excuse me,” and dashed out of the class. 

He only just made it to the bathroom when he vomited again. 

***

The early Spring air was still chilly and bit at Gojo’s cheeks as he sat at a wooden bench on campus and tried not to vomit.

Again. 

Students were walking around, chatting with each other, laughing; it was late, most of them were heading home or to the mess hall for dinner. None of them were paying attention to the man on the bench practically folded over on himself, trying to fight the prickling behind his eyes and nose. Unable to see the water-lined eyes he was hiding behind a dark pair of sunglasses. 

After Gojo had vomited during class yesterday morning, he had stayed on campus until the dry heaves no longer racked his body, and then had found the strength to go home and plop onto his bed– trying desperately to ignore what he’d already guessed. 

It could still be the flu. Or maybe his heat was coming early and it was just hitting him harder than usual. These were all logical conclusions for Gojo, but none of them were THE conclusion. 

Gojo had allowed himself to wallow, wanting to pretend that if he never got confirmation, then it wasn’t true. It took him a full day and then some to finally acknowledge that he needed to be an adult and check. 

He could do it. 

After three hours of hyping himself up to go to a local drug store, Gojo had finally walked out of his apartment, in nothing but a sweater (having lost any sort of brain function to remember a coat and scarf that the March weather deemed necessary) and trodden over. 

He’d bought one pregnancy test, and, not wanting to wait, had gone to the coffee shop next door, ordered a random seasonal drink, and had run to the bathroom where he’d peed on the stick, and waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

It had felt like an agonizing eternity (3 minutes) before the stick had yielded results. Gojo had dry heaved when he’d seen it and had run out of the coffee shop and back to the drug store to buy two more tests. 

Back at the coffee shop, he’d tapped his foot anxiously as he’d waited for the bathroom to become vacant, before running in and doing the whole dance again. 

Three plus signs.

Gojo just stared at the two sticks in his hand that mimicked the result of the first. He continued to stare, mouth pressed tight, until someone knocked on the door. 

Pocketing the tests– disgusted but needing to retain the physical proof– Gojo walked out of the coffee shop, seasonal drink abandoned, and just kept walking, as if in a daze. 

He was pregnant. 

Gojo watched one footstep in front of the other. 

He was pregnant. 

Gojo was pulled back as a bike almost hit him. 

He was pregnant. 

Gojo sat on a bench surrounded by quietly wandering people and lush greenery. He was pregnant. Two months pregnant. It couldn’t have been anyone else. He always used a condom with the Betas and a Beta couldn’t even get him pregnant. 

Gojo held his head in his hands as he tried to maintain his breathing, remembering the stretch that had felt like too much when that Alpha had pinned him to the mattress. Had knotted him. Had come in him for who knows how long, because Gojo had passed out and he truly didn’t know. 

Remembering how he’d woken up to a soaked mattress beneath him and the feeling of something leaking out of him. How his stomach had felt pudgy and full as he’d tried to dig the cum out of himself in the shower.

Thinking about how he should have gone into heat by now. How he’d been late but had chosen to ignore it as a happy coincidence. 

God, he was an idiot. 

Oh my GOD. Fuck. Gojo squeezed his eyes shut and tried to fight the urge to pull his own hair out. He was biting his cheek again and the wound reopened so that his tongue was coated in the taste of iron. 

It was enough to center him and he quivered a breath as he felt a tear escape his tightly shut eyes. 

His parents were going to kill him. And not in a funny ha-ha way, but in a very real, they’ll need to find a new Gojo heir, way. 

His lip quivered and his body shook (whether from the cold or the anxiety he didn’t know and honestly didn’t care). 

His days were numbered.

He could… 

He could get rid of it. 

He could find some random clinic and do it under a pseudonym. 

Hope that no one will recognize him. He’d have to pay for it in cash, but he could do that. 

He could get rid of it. His parents would never have to know and his life could continue as it had been. Nothing had to change. 

Nothing had to change. 

Gojo tentatively placed one of the hands that had been holding his head onto his stomach. Testing how it felt. 

He couldn’t tell there was life in there. Honestly he looked the same. He was the same. Life was the same. Except for the nausea of course. There was that. 

Nothing had to change. 

Gojo felt a few more tears trickle down his cheeks, sweeping along the plains of his face, unto the crevice of his lips where he tasted their salty tang. 

With probably the worst timing ever, a face passed through his mind. Dark intense eyes. Long black hair. Gauges like a goth brat. A gentle smile, and intense disposition. A time in his life when he’d wanted change. When he’d been allowed to see a different future than the already pre-set one he’d long since expected. 

Of course, that was just a dream, and any hope of change had vanished, setting him back on the path he’d long been destined for. 

Gojo can almost hear the way that boy had once purred Gojo’s name as if it was a promise, as if it was a secret. 

Gojo bit his lip to muffle the whimper he felt building in his throat.

“...Satoru?”

Gojo sniffled, feeling like he was choking on his own snot. Nothing had to change. He was a clan heir, he would be CEO soon. This was the right path– the best path for him. He could do it, he’d already gotten this far.

“Gojo Satoru?” A hand touched Gojo’s shoulder and he felt his soul leave his body for a moment. The movement caused him to bite his lip, and the renewed taste of iron to coat his mouth. 

Gojo pushed his glasses higher up his nose and tried to subtly wipe at his cheeks and nose and eliminate any proof of his tears from whoever had recognized him. He was supposed to be an aloof, wealthy, Beta heir after all. Can’t ruin the image mother and father constructed.

Of course he couldn’t eliminate the pink tint of his nose and cheeks or how swollen his eyes felt. But all the same, Gojo stood up, tried not to look at the person as he started walking away, tossing a casual hand over his shoulder as he said, “Oh sorry, I’m running late.”

Gojo couldn’t help his surprise when the hand remained on his shoulder and pulled back to keep him in place. People had no sense of boundaries when they met someone they thought they knew from all the magazine articles and interviews he’d given. Everyone always treated him like a friend and it was something that always made Gojo’s teeth grind.

“Listen–” Gojo was about to turn around and try his hardest not to shout angrily at this person, but the words stopped abruptly in his mouth when he looked into the eyes of who had been calling him. 

“It is you, Gojo. Still as rude as ever I see.” Nanami Kento had grown up, that’s all Gojo could think. Gone were the lanky emo bangs and the long lanky kid who had once been a similar build to Gojo. In his place stood a proper Alpha male. Tall, broad, with his blond hair now perfectly styled, in clothes that were way too sophisticated for a college campus.

Gojo could only manage, “Nanami?” Flinching a little at how waterlogged and rusty his voice sounded. “What are you…?”

“Ah I see. You think you’re the only one smart enough to get into a foreign top-ranked university.”

“Um… no?” How did Gojo explain that the shock was two fold, one from just seeing Nanami looking like a man and not the moody teen he’d known. And two… two came from being one degree closer to the boy that had ripped out his heart only three and a half years ago. 

If Nanami had changed so much, then would he have too? Gojo felt a fresh wave of panic and tears grip his throat, a whimper managed to escape before he caught it and although he prayed that Nanami would miss it (or be polite enough to ignore it), the Alpha simply inclined his head slightly and looked at Gojo as if he was properly looking at him for the first time. 

At the fact that he was only wearing a light sweater in the rapidly cooling night weather, that his cheeks and nose were red, and that his hair was standing out as if he’d just been trying to pull it out from the root. 

It was time for Gojo to bow out.

“No, Nanami. Just surprised to see you’d grown out of your Emo punk, Avril Lavigne era. I’m gonna miss it. Anyway… I actually am late, so…” Gojo knew his voice only added to the narrative that something was very not right, but he needed to close out that chapter of his life– this chapter of his life– and get a move on. 

But as Gojo went to turn away once again, planning to walk as fast as his legs would take him, Nanami grabbed onto his elbow and simply said, “Wait.” 

Gojo hated that he actually paused. Fuck these Omegan instincts! It feels like they’d only gotten worse these past few weeks. Gojo was about to tell Nanami to shove it, when he saw Nanami taking off his jacket. 

“What are you…?” Gojo asked but his words trailed off, because he knew. 

Nanami draped his own coat around Gojo’s trembling frame. Gojo just stared at it, unable to withhold himself from lightly sniffing it and while it wasn’t drenched, it did lightly smell like the Alpha– the scent caused Gojo’s stomach to turn. He looked back at Nanami who was now wearing only a button down and some simple jeans, “I don’t ne–”

“Yes, you do.” Nanami interrupted. He pulled the jacket tighter around Gojo, “You’re obviously freezing,” a pause, “and, I can smell you. Come on.”

… He can… smell me?

Gojo barely had a chance to process that before Nanami placed his hand between Gojo’s shoulder blades and started leading him away from the bench he’d begun sitting at while the sun was still out. 

Gojo said nothing as Nanami led the way. They walked for fifteen minutes in total silence before Nanami led them into a nice restaurant Gojo had been to once on one of those awful dates his parents had set him on. 

The space was large, busy, and loud . The lighting was intimate; dark and warm. The bar was filled with people sitting and standing, a majority of who were in semi-casual wear but carried bags with major tech brand logos on them. Gojo said nothing as Nanami spoke to the waitress, nor as they followed her to an intimate booth table toward the back. Gojo didn’t say anything about how Nanami’s hand never left his back, or how they sat next to each other, close enough that he could feel Nanami’s body heat. The waitress left them to browse the menu and Gojo simply stared as a drop of water ran down the freshly filled glass.

He was still trying to understand how the fuck he’d gotten here. 

“Gojo?” Nanami prodded, firmly but gently in a way that Gojo got the impression only he could. “Gojo?” Nanami repeated, and this time Gojo looked toward the blond man, pulling his attention away from the condensation. 

“What’s the matter?” Gojo tried not to flinch at being asked so directly. His lips remained sealed. Unsure and unable to say what had caused him to sit in the cold for hours. Nanami said nothing, simply waiting, watching him. It was enough to make him squirm a bit. 

“Why would you think anything’s the matter?” Gojo finally got his sticky, heavy tongue to move and form words. 

Nanami leaned back and looked at him, clearly not one to play games or to be lied to. He crossed his arms and simply waited. Gojo opened his mouth and then closed it when the waitress came back to their table. Nanami broke his attention from Gojo to smile politely at the waitress, ordering them two glasses of red wine, spouting out words like “dry” “bouquet” and “aged in France.” The waitress blushed slightly and scurried away, looking back over her shoulder as she went. 

Gojo felt a little vomit rise in his throat, and it was unrelated to the current ‘issue’ at hand. 

“If you’re worried about being overheard, it’s okay. This place is so loud and busy, that if you speak quietly to me, no one will hear you.” Gojo looked at Nanami again. Then looked around the bustling, loud room and realized that even for the waitress to hear them, Nanami had had to raise his voice above a normal speaking volume. They also weren’t close to anyone… 

Gojo worried his lip. His turmoil still ran rampant in his chest, in his stomach where something now grew, and in his head. The panic still remained within spitting distance, but it wasn’t as bad as it had been. He’d been so dazed by the sudden pull and adventure he’d been taken on that the all-encompassing, hair pulling, panic had subsided. 

He eyed Nanami, who had always been a quiet respectful kid, even if they hadn’t known each other that well. Someone from his past, from a very different time in his life, had been thrown into his lap during a moment when everything was so fragile and breakable. When he was so fragile and breakable. 

Gojo didn’t feel brave enough to take his glasses off, even if he looked like an ass, nor did he feel brave enough to look at Nanami. Heck he barely felt brave enough to talk to himself about the disaster that his life currently was. 

“I…” Gojo trailed off, his brows furrowed, unsure where to even start. What to even say. “I’m not a… Beta.” Gojo felt as if each word were being ripped out of him, tumbling out in a harsh whisper, a compilation of words he’s probably only ever alluded to one time before, to one person. 

“Yes, I know.” Gojo’s head lifted and he turned to look at Nanami in confusion. Nanami simply stared back at him, clearly waiting patiently for Gojo to stop being an idiot. 

“You know?” Gojo asked. “You’re fucking with me,” Gojo shot Nanami a looked that could probably be described as shocked disgust and awe. Was it possible that a secret guarded better than any treasure had been discovered by… a man who Gojo had probably only ever exchanged a handful of sentences with?

Nanami nodded and hummed his agreement. He didn’t say anything else as the sommelier came with their bottle of wine. Nanami tasted the first pour, allowing it to marinate on his tongue before discussing the excellent blend– all as if he hadn’t turned Gojo’s world upside down. 

What did Nanami know? Wait, did he nod about knowing or about fucking with Gojo? Gojo tried to wrack his brain for the answer and fought the urge to strangle the Alpha.

When the sommelier left, Nanami leaned back into the booth and simply looked at Gojo, “It was obvious.”

“Obvious?”

A hum again. “Not only did you smell like a clearly distressed Omega when I ran into you just now,” Gojo fought the urge to sniff himself, he never lost control of his pheromones, “but you also just acted like one in school. Always draped over Geto, and the little noises and purrs you’d make around him, all very Omegan.” Nanami stated it like it was a matter of fact and Gojo had a sudden sense that he should reevaluate his whole life. This was the second person who had told Gojo he was so obviously an Omega. 

His parents and tutors would be very disappointed to hear that all the training they’d done had been no good. 

Gojo felt blood rushing to his ears, the world a little foggier, and he tried to breathe at a normal pace. Clearly seeing Gojo fight not to panic, Nanami leaned forward and tried to catch his eye, “It’s obvious to me. But I have three Omega cousins, two of which are male, all of which I am close to. I know what to look for.”

“Why didn’t you… say anything? You know a secret like that is worth its weight in gold.” Gojo tried to scoff off the pain and fear his parents had long since instilled in him, that everything would be lost if the world discovered he was neither Alpha nor Beta, but an Omega. 

Nanami’s face transformed into something of disgust as he leaned back in his seat, “I wouldn’t sell information about someone else’s personal life. That’s distasteful.” Gojo couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his mouth at the sheer anger and disgust on Nanami’s face at the idea that he would stoop so low, but the laughter quickly quieted when Nanami continued, “Plus, it didn’t seem like it was my business. It was clearly not something you wanted to share so who was I to take that choice from you?”

Gojo felt his eyes prickle again and he tried to play off the (probably very Omegan) whimper that threatened to escape his throat with a cough. Gojo just focused on nodding and on looking at Nanami, on not falling apart here in the middle of a random restaurant. 

“I am an Omega, but no one is supposed to know, because well… being the heir of an Alpha empire and what not,” Gojo tried to shrug his shoulders and give a smirk at the second half of that sentence, but it was all a little watery and didn’t come off as nonchalant as he’d have liked.

Stupid hormones. 

Nanami nodded, polite enough to not say anything about Gojo’s obviously distressed state. Polite enough to not even release any calming pheromones, something any other Alpha may have done for an Omega who was so clearly distraught. 

“But that’s not why you’re upset now,” Nanami calmly stated, as if he wasn’t tearing Gojo apart. 

Gojo could just leave, the realization came to him then, he doubted Nanami would stop him. He didn’t have to make the words a reality to anyone but himself. Nothing had to change. 

But even the way Nanami acted, indifferent to the biggest secret of Gojo’s life made him feel like, maybe another one, wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe it was like a cleanse and getting it out of his system, verbally, would make him feel better. 

Gojo met Nanami’s eyes, the words weak as he finally let them out, “I’m pregnant. Two months.” 

The only hint of surprise was the slight twitch to Nanami’s eyebrow, and the way he took a sip of his wine to cover it up. He placed his wine glass on the table, pausing for a moment as if thinking, and then he calmly reached for Gojo’s own glass, pulling that over to his own side of the table and out of reach of Gojo’s hand.

“Apologies for ordering that without asking,” Gojo didn’t even know what to say in response, but he didn’t need to reply as Nanami continued, “So, what are you going to do?”

Do? What was he going to do? Gojo rolled the idea over in his brain. “Well, I mean, I have to get rid of it.”

“Do you?” Nanami simply asked. Not prying, but curious, his features soft as he looked at Gojo. 

“Don’t I…?” Gojo asked back, feeling his brows pull in confusion, “I mean, I’m publicly a Beta and if people find out, which if I pop out a kid there really is no alternative, then I won’t be able to be CEO of Gojo Enterprises. My parents will also kill me in cold blood and pay someone off to cover it up. And… I would be a parent… a single parent.” Gojo had been looking off into the distance as he listed reasons why it made sense to get rid of the child, why it was impossible to have it, why he couldn’t. 

“Okay. All valid reasons, but I didn’t hear you say what you wanted.” Gojo looked at Nanami. 

“What… I want?”

Nanami nodded, “Yes. All those reasons are good, but you didn’t say you didn’t want it.”

“I don–” Gojo started, sure of himself, but realizing that that wasn’t something he’d thought about. Did he want to be a parent? Did he want to have a child? His parents wouldn’t want him to. And he was only in his third year of school currently. He couldn’t very well go to school with a baby bump, he’d have to take a break, and how would he explain that to anyone who asked. 

“The father is… out of the picture,” Gojo cringed internally. Waiting for Nanami to label him an Omega slut who slept around and wasn’t even smart enough to use protection.

“You wouldn’t be the first single parent out there. Better you’re happy alone than miserable with some man for the sake of your child.” Gojo couldn’t help the way he looked at Nanami, head slightly turned and mouth slightly open. Kind of shocked that he was being so… reasonable. 

“No, yeah. The father was a shithead.” Gojo quickly agreed, knowing he wouldn’t want that selfish man anywhere near his kid. 

His kid. It could be. It shouldn’t, but it could. 

Gojo felt a headache begin to pulse at his temples from the crying he’d succumbed to these last few hours. He took his glasses off and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, before looking over at Nanami, feeling exposed with his puffy red eyes on display but acknowledging that at this point he probably wouldn’t see Nanami again and what was it to fully fall off the deep end. To be vulnerable, the way he had only ever been once before. 

“Nothing has to change if I go through with it,” Gojo verbalized what he’d been ensuring himself this whole time. 

Nanami nodded, “Yeah, but, do you not want anything to change? I don’t think you’d be so distressed if you didn’t already know what you wanted.” Gojo looked him in the eyes, quietly falling apart inside. 

Was he actually happy currently? No. He’d only been happy when he’d felt like he’d had somewhere to belong. Someone to belong to. He’d been chasing that high these past three years, friend after friend, one-night stand after one-night stand, one parental-assigned obligation after another. 

He still felt gnawingly empty. 

Did he want that to stay the same? He knew what his future held as he stood now: finishing school, giving up the small amount of freedom he had before returning to his place under his parents’ thumb, working day in and day out to prove his “Alpha-ness” and value to the Gojo clan as its sole viable heir. 

He would enter a political marriage with some Beta girl who he would never see much of anyway and who would sign endless NDAs to keep her mouth shut. And Gojo would be alone. No one but his paid-off bride, his ruthless parents, and his work to keep him company, while always striving to be someone he wasn’t. 

Gojo didn’t even realize a few stray tears had escaped him until Nanami was handing him his glasses again. Gojo wiped at his eyes and smiled softly at Nanami as he put them back on. 

“I–” he cleared his throat, “I don’t want nothing to change.” He gnawed on his lip before quietly adding, “But I don’t think I have it in me to want this all alone.”

“But you want this?”

Gojo thought about it, about the growing little whatever that was currently using his body as a host, and for the first time let him think about a future with someone that would love him unconditionally– as he was. 

He nodded, “Yeah. I do want it.”

“Then you don’t have to be alone.” Gojo once again found himself being surprised by Nanami. 

“What? What do you mean? My parents would never help me with this.”

A soft sigh as if Gojo were exhausting– he tried not to take offense. “I didn’t mean them, you clearly don’t get along with them. Sure you’re annoying and I will likely regret this in the future but,” okay, Gojo thought, offense officially taken , “I can help you, Gojo. You don’t have to be alone.”

“You?” Gojo tried not to sound appalled, but clearly failed.

“Yes, me. You don’t have to be rude and sound so obviously put off by it.”

“I– I’m not! You just took me by surprise.” Gojo quickly tried to save the situation. While he and Nanami had never been… close, he had never disliked the Alpha. Instead he’d always respected his quiet appeal. “I didn’t mean that, I– I would appreciate it.”

“Good, so we’ll call it friends, yes?”

“Yeah… friends.” Gojo nodded. It was quiet for a moment after, as they both seemed to question what should be said next. Apparently Nanami was much braver than Gojo. 

“So, you’re going to keep it, then?” 

Gojo couldn’t help the way his hand drifted to his stomach. And for the first time in a while, what felt like a genuinely happy smile spread on his lips. “Yeah, I’m gonna keep it.” 

Consequences be damned, this kid was his. 

***

“Hey, do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl? I mean, I know that simply having my genetics means they’re going to be gorgeous no matter what but, I’m curious.” Gojo was chattering away from his lounged position on the couch. He was lying on his back, tossing a ball up before catching it. Nanami was sitting at the coffee table, trying to do some work. 

It was 7pm and Chinese takeout was strewn across the table Nanami occupied a corner of. This had become an ongoing ritual for the two of them the past three or so months, especially now that it was the summer. 

Nanami would go to his internship during the day and then come to Gojo’s, where they would do dinner together. 

Gojo was starting to wonder if Nanami even had any other friends. Not that he needed them, Gojo was a handful. 

Meanwhile Gojo would whittle the days away, wearing increasingly baggy clothes, often something Nanami had scented. And while smelling the pheromones of an Alpha other than that of his child’s father made Gojo a little queasy, it was useful in covering up his own Omega pheromones which he’d had a harder and harder time controlling the deeper he got into the pregnancy. 

It didn’t help that pregnant Omegas weren’t supposed to take any suppressants either. Meaning Gojo was only left with his scent patches and his will. 

And so they’d fallen into this domestic routine. It was… nice. Although Gojo wasn’t so sure Nanami felt the same way, but, he kept coming back so Gojo was okay with it. 

A deep sigh sounded, “Shouldn’t you know the gender by now? You’re at five months. Actually,” Nanami looked up from his computer to look at the lounged Gojo, “When was the last time you went to the OBGYN?”

“I haven’t,” Gojo continued to toss the ball in his hand. 

“And why not, Gojo?” Nanami was stern, exhausted. Feeling the need to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“I don’t need to do all that,” Gojo shrugged. Nanami sputtered, speechless for a second. 

“Don’t need to? Gojo, you’re more than halfway through your pregnancy. Don’t you want to ensure your child is healthy and doesn’t have your blatant ego?”

“Can you tell all that from the ultrasound?” Nanami sometimes questioned how he’d convinced himself it was a good idea to be saddled with this pregnant idiot. 

“No, no you can not Gojo. But you can see that everything is in proper order and know what gender it is. So why are you acting like an idiot?”

Gojo stopped tossing the ball in his hand, then slowly sat up, groaning at the added weight he’s since put on. RIP his figure, Gojo constantly thought as he passed by the mirrors in his apartment and noticed the growing bump that wasn’t as large as a female’s but was still sizable enough that he no longer could sleep on his stomach. 

Don’t even get him started on his cravings and new love for salty, bitter things– and the way his stomach turned whenever he tried to eat sweets. It had truly been torture!

But all of that is to say that Gojo had been loving it, loving the torture. Every night, when he was alone in his bed, he’d run his hands over his growing stomach and would coo at the baby inside. Promising to be a good parent, to be there for them regardless of who they were. Gojo didn’t need to see his baby to know he loved it already. 

But… Nanami did have a point in that knowing if it was healthy or not was probably important, but there was a larger issue at hand. 

“I haven’t told my parents yet.” Gojo admitted, “They won’t be too happy, and may try to convince me, demand me, to… not have the baby.”

“Okay, but what does that have to do with you going to the doctor?” Nanami turned his body to fully face Gojo, his face was calm, understanding, and patient in a way repeatedly hanging out with an infuriating Gojo had caused it to be. 

“Well… not to make myself out to be a spoiled sugar baby, but everything I have is my parents’. Including the credit cards… which they can see the transactions of. And I don’t exactly think they’d take well to finding out I’m pregnant from their accountant.” 

“Well, it’s important you go, Gojo. Do you want me to pay for it?” Nanami was serious, Gojo knew he was serious, and it touched him all the more. 

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you Nanami. Plus, I do need to tell them, I should tell them.” Even if he didn’t want to. Gojo knew well enough that this would spiral out of control soon enough if he didn’t have the Gojo clan’s support to keep everything quiet in the long run. At the end of the day Gojo Enterprises had never and could never have an Omega CEO. And while life was changing, Gojo still wanted to prove his father wrong and be a good CEO, Alpha or no, he was entitled to this the way every prior first son in his family had been. 

“Okay, then let’s tell them.”

“It’s not that easy, Nanami!” Gojo whined, sometimes finding the Alpha’s straightforwardness infuriating. But he figured Nanami had some similar thoughts about him too. 

A sigh, “Okay so then what do you want to do? Never get checked and then have the baby in the back of the taxi cab or in the tub?”

“No, no. I’ll tell them, I will. Soon. And then I’ll go make an appointment.” When Nanami sent him a stern look, Gojo stood taller and stuck his pinky finger out, “Promise.”

Nanami just rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure. Okay let’s have you go to the appointment in the next week, and you can call your parents whenever you feel up to it, but if you haven’t by the time the appointment comes around, then I’ll pay for it. You can’t keep being irresponsible, Gojo, you’re going to be a parent.”

“I know, I know,” Gojo slouched into the couch, “I’ll call them and make the appointment, boy scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t a boy scout.”

“I could have been.”

“No, you couldn’t.” Nanami started picking up the take out containers and placing them in a trash bag, halfway through he paused and looked at Gojo, “Just… let me know if you need me to come with you to any doctor’s appointments, or even when you call your parents, okay?”

Gojo just smiled shyly, “Yeah, okay.”

***

It had taken Gojo three days after that to call his parents. It had gone as well as he had imagined, which is to say awful. His mother had started crying and his father had yelled at him, calling him irresponsible, a slut, threatening to cut him off, or bring him back to Japan and lock him in the house. After he’d been yelled at for probably over thirty minutes, silence finally filled the space between Gojo and his father, only heavy breathing and distant crying audible. 

“Do you seriously think you’re going to keep it?” His father’s voice still shook with anger, but now it was that of a harsh, even-toned voice– something much worse than the yelling. 

“A little too late for that convo don’t you think?” Gojo tried to sound blasé, as if he were simply spinning a pen in his hand at his desk, instead of tucked into a make-shift nest on the couch– a random pile of blankets and pillows he’d accumulated over the past 3 days in his nervousness.  

“You rude, ungrateful brat. What makes you think I won’t just lock you up and give the bastard away as soon as it’s born?”

Gojo had already thought of that possibility. Had been thinking about it since the moment he’d decided to keep the baby. He knew that no matter what, his father wouldn’t allow any slip in his control of Gojo, maintaining his suffocating grip on his son. And knowing this, Gojo had come up with only two possible solutions– deals, really– that would ensure that his baby would remain his. 

“You won’t do that.”

A scoff from the other end of the phone, “What makes you so sure?”

“Two reasons. The first is that I am still a Gojo, which means the chance my kid is an Alpha is higher than average. Meaning , they are the only next viable heir to keep our family in power– unless you want to risk losing control to your second cousin’s family?” Gojo threw out this last bit, knowing how much his father hated his power-hungry extended family. 

When only silence reverberated across the phone line, Gojo continued, “If I don’t have this baby, then any chance of another true Gojo heir from our family is all but nil, Beta wife or no.” Gojo sounded much more confident than he felt. His hand was trembling and he tried to use it to rub his protruding stomach as a way to calm himself. 

It helped a little. 

Both Gojo and his father knew that Gojo was impotent when it came to siring a child, it had been an ongoing conversation all through Gojo’s young adult life of how the family would secure an heir when they had a good for nothing son. 

“The second,” Gojo continued before his father could intervene, “is that I will finally be the perfect heir you’ve always wanted me to be.”

Silence, then a hum to acknowledge what was said. 

“I will listen and do what you want me to do, no complaints. I will bury any sign or desire of my second gender, and I’ll go along with any inane plan you come up with. Be it more blind dates, more galas, moving to America or back to Japan, I’ll do it all, no questions asked.” Then as if he couldn’t help himself, he softly added, “All I want is my child.” 

“Are you sure you’d even be able to take care of a child?” His father tsked, his tone taking on something almost pitying, “You’ve always been disobedient, Satoru.” This wasn’t true. Gojo had just always been an Omega, which in the eyes of his father, were one and the same. 

His father paused, allowing the moment to become tense, before letting out an exhausted breath, “It’s not worth the trouble.”

It was like a knife had struck Gojo’s heart. All the thoughts, hopes, plans he’d made these past few months crumbled before his eyes as if a fire had incinerated them. The room spun and Gojo could feel acid clawing at his throat. He tucked his body deeper into his nest, trying to focus on the tiny creature that curled and turned inside his womb– it was the only thing that comforted him.

This couldn’t be the end. It couldn’t. Gojo could come up with another plan, could still beg his father, could still run away if push came to shove. 

But he wouldn’t– couldn’t – give up his baby.

Before Gojo was able to reply to his father, to come up with some kind of counter to buy himself some time, Gojo heard a sudden clatter on the other end of the line and the sound of his father cursing.

“God damn, woman, have you gone mad?” Gojo strained to hear the other side of the conversation, but it just sounded like soft, water-logged murmuring at this distance. “Like hell am I letting him keep it. I’ll lock him up if I need to! It may be too late to get rid of it but I’ll call an agency to take it away as soon as it takes its first whimpering breath!”

“Darling,” Gojo’s stomach dropped, the murmuring voice finally close enough to the phone to become clear. It was his mother. His submissive, quiet, obedient, Beta mother. Gojo felt his breathing stop. “Let’s not be too hasty. Of course you’re right that Satoru has brought trouble upon our household, but that doesn’t mean it’s not an opportunity. Darling, we can just find a wife, have a big public wedding and all your problems will disappear. No one will question that the Gojo heir is an Omega after that.” Then, “No one will question your family’s right to the clan.” 

“No one?” His father’s stern voice sounded.

“No one.” His mother’s soothing voice answered.

Gojo said nothing, not sure he could find his voice even if he tried. 

“Okay. I’ll be in touch.” And that was it. The call clicked. His father had hung up. 

Gojo took a deep resounding breath, bringing both  hands up to rub his stomach as the heaving sobs he’d been holding back finally shook his body. 

Nothing would happen to his baby. He wouldn’t let it. Even if he had to fight for it.

Two days later Gojo received a call from his father’s personal assistant, one of the few people who knew about Gojo and who’d been in the family for decades. They relayed the plan of how Gojo would be allowed to keep his child only under the following specific circumstances: the first is that he started behaving like the Gojo heir he is, attending a minimum of 1 company event per month as soon as his pregnancy was over and continuing after he became CEO. 

The second, that he got engaged to the ‘mother of his child.’ He would be widowed shortly after (this was only a temporary solution to make the public so focused on sympathizing for Gojo they didn’t dare consider the nature of the child), but Gojo would have to agree to any future marriage prospect they discussed. 

Finally, during the year Gojo took off from school, he would move to their lodge in the Californian countryside and would stay out of sight for that entire year while their plan was actualized, saving them from any PR nightmares. 

Of course, Gojo agreed to everything. He had half still been expecting his parents to disown him and throw him out into the street. Or worse, to rip his baby from his arms, never to be seen again. This was much better. Enough that Gojo felt a small inkling of hope blossoming for his future family. 

***

As promised, four days after telling his parents, Nanami and Gojo went to his first doctor’s appointment. Originally Gojo had been planning on going alone but when Nanami had asked if he’d want company Gojo had found himself asking the Alpha to come with him. 

The doctor had been selected by his father and Gojo was sure some NDAs had been signed and financial compensation had been exchanged. Either way, Gojo was now here, lying on a reclined chair that was covered in a thin crinkly paper that made noise anytime Gojo moved. 

He’d had his blood drawn and some other tests run, had had to fill out some forms, and now he was waiting for the nurse to come in and start the ultrasound. Nanami stood quietly next to Gojo the whole time, simply providing clarification to Gojo’s nervous blabbered nonsense. 

Finally, the nurse came in and instructed Gojo to lift his shirt, warning about the chill before applying cool gel (to which Gojo hissed and Nanami told him not to act like such a baby) and using the machine to scan for his baby. 

“So you’re five months along?” She made small talk as she looked at the screen, clearly searching for something.

“Yeah,” Gojo nodded. The nurse said nothing else, eyes on the screen, and when she saw what she was looking for she wrote it in the chart and simply stated that the doctor would be with them soon. 

A woman dressed in pink scrubs came in, sanitizing her hands before sitting next to Gojo and picking the tools back up, she smiled at the two of them. “So this must be the new mama, and you must be the father.” Gojo and Nanami just looked at each other in surprise, it wasn’t a bad assumption but it was wrong. When the doctor added, “You’re such a cute couple,” both of them scrunched their noses in disgust. But neither corrected her, not really wanting to get into why Gojo smelled of Nanami’s pheromones but that they weren’t together. 

“Thank you,” Nanami simply said, ever polite. 

Gojo on the other hand loved fucking with Nanami, “Oh yeah, we’re so happy. We thought he was impotent for a while. Didn’t we, darling. ” Nanami pressed his lips together in what was clearly supposed to be a smile but was a bit too strained. 

Neither had the opportunity to add to their little story because at that point the doctor smiled at both of them and pointed at the small monitor, “There they are!” Gojo and Nanami both leaned closer to stare at the blob on the screen. It was a baby… if you looked hard enough and loved abstract art. 

“Do you want to know the gender?” Could they truly tell from that photo? 

“Yes, please.” Gojo replied, wanting to know more about his baby, even if it clearly was going to be an ugly little blob. 

“It’s a boy. If you look here…” The doctor pointed something out on the screen and Gojo nodded like he could clearly see what she was pointing out. 

He couldn’t. 

But, that didn’t matter. 

A boy. 

He was going to have a little baby boy. Gojo couldn’t help the stupid, gushy, watery smile that took over his face. 

Pregnancy hormones were truly the worst. 

***

Gojo went into labor two weeks early, a few days before Christmas. He’d been home, watching TV and waiting to feel the baby kick, which he’d been doing more and more lately, when he’d gotten a sudden cramp. When he’d called Nanami and told him that he “May be in labor” Nanami had actually raised his voice and yelled back, “Why are you calling me from your house?? Go to the hospital, you idiot! I’ll find you there.”

Now, on the hospital bed, four hours into contractions, sweaty and tired, Gojo was clutching Nanami’s hand until it turned white with lack of blood flow and yelled at his silent stoic friend. 

“Why would you let me go through with this you fucking sadist! Why wouldn’t you talk me out of this? Do you hate me? You asshole— ah!” Half of these were said through tear-soaked shrieks as his body contracted in pain. 

Of course Nanami, as always, said nothing and simply listened to Gojo’s sobbing and aggravated yelling. 

For hours. 

By the time they hit hour seven of labor, Nanami had long since lost feeling in his hand. 

At hour eight, Gojo contracted enough to start pushing. Thirty minutes later a loud shriek sounded and a black-haired baby was wiped down and placed in Gojo’s arms. 

He was so tiny, Gojo thought. With dark blue eyes and dark hair, and looking nothing like Gojo– yet, anyway. But he was so beautiful nonetheless. 

Not for the first time, Gojo felt tears roll down his cheeks. Nanami was looking over Gojo’s shoulder with a soft smile on his face, “Fuck, he’s cute.” Nanami ran his finger against the newborn’s plump cheek. 

Gojo hummed in agreement. He softly pinched his baby’s cheek before speaking softly to him, “Megumi, say hi to your Uncle Nanami.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Tokyo – 2017

It was still dark out when Gojo woke up, tangled in sweaty sheets, lying in a moist spot. Eyes still closed and grimacing, Gojo smacked his lips around the dryness in his mouth as his hand searched the bed for something– someone. 

Finding no one in bed, Gojo opened his eyes and slowly blinked through the darkness of the room. He felt like shit: his ass hurt, he was still leaking, and he was just wet (in a disgusting, non-sexy way). 

Geto must have left after Gojo had fallen asleep, because Gojo does remember an overall daze of fingering himself, humping the bed, moaning, and then passing out in a sweat. 

He doesn’t think Geto had been there at that point, so he’d probably left at some point before. 

Throwing his head back onto the pillow with a groan, Gojo was ready to fall back asleep– at least until the sun properly rose– when he lifted his head back up with a (finally lucid) thought. 

Fuck. 

How could he forget Megumi? 

What time was it even? How long had he been in the daze of heat, like an idiot , while his son was worried about him in the way Megumi often did but rarely vocalized? 

Where was his phone? 

Gojo desperately ran his hands over the covers and around his nest, scrunching his nose in disgust as he touched spots obviously wet with his own cum, until he finally noticed it charging on the bedside table. A small smile touched his lips, knowing that there was no way he’d been lucid enough to remember to charge his phone. 

It had to have been Geto before he left. 

Picking it up, he saw a few missed calls (his mother, Nanami, and his secretary) and four texts from Geto. 

               Suguru: I had to leave to get back to the kids 

               Suguru: Don’t worry about Megumi, he’s a little quieter than usual but hes having a good time with the girls 

               Suguru: Call me when you wake up Satoru  

               Suguru: Let me know everything’s okay baby 

Gojo smiled, his finger hovering over the call button but stopping when he remembered that not only was it dark out but he was naked and sweaty and something about being in that state while talking to his… Suguru just didn’t feel quite right . 

Geto probably wasn’t even awake, it was 4am now. 

Wait.

4am?! 

4am a whole day later? 

Somehow Gojo had managed to stay in his delirium for much over 24 hours. Which, now looking again at Geto’s texts, made sense as to why the man had sent that last text a little after the others, at around 11pm– just a few hours earlier. 

That was enough to drive Gojo into action, lifting his aching disgusting body off the bed and hobbling to the bathroom to take a nice, hot fucking shower. 

After he managed to remove all the grime and sweat off of himself, Gojo stripped the sheets off the bed, put them in the wash, and looked around the room for something to wear. Finally feeling like a person, Gojo decided that he didn’t want to wait any longer to see Megumi… or Geto. Sure, he could text that all was okay, but why do that when he could surprise them?

Feeling like himself— well a version of himself that had a slight migraine and was still leaking slick even after a shower— Gojo got dressed and headed to his car, a stupid little skip in his step that he couldn’t even roll his eyes at himself for. 

The city was dead this early in the morning, and Gojo managed to make it to Geto’s cozy home within 30 minutes that flew by as if they were 5. But when he got there, the realization that it really wasn’t even 6am finally hit him, and Gojo just thrummed his fingers over the steering wheel to a tune no one knew but him, waiting for an appropriate time to knock on the door. 

Now that he had a moment of quiet, both from himself and external influences, the creeping insecurities that had been lost to the thrill and lust of simply seeing Geto again finally made their way to the forefront of his mind. 

Gojo truly just liked being with Geto, he was one of the few people who knew him for who he truly was, never treating him like the Gojo Heir, nor even treating him much different after finding out he was an Omega. 

Their relationship now was different— better— and yet so similar to when they were young. 

But, did it really mean anything? Gojo could love being with Geto all he wanted, but it didn’t really mean they could be together. Not publicly anyway. Gojo still had his reputation to think about, and Geto… Geto may not want to keep waiting for him. 

His heart beat so loudly he could feel it vibrating across his body, from his chest to where his fingertips were pressed against the steering wheel. 

Given, Gojo’s father wasn’t in the picture anymore, and he should be able to do whatever he wanted but–

But he couldn’t. 

It made Gojo want to tear his hair out. 

Geto was so, so good to Gojo. Gave him stupid butterflies and kickstarted an animalistic part of him that was so core to who he was and yet never saw the light of day. 

He wanted to be a good Omega– a good man – for Geto. 

As if sensing his turmoil, the front door of Geto’s home opened, framing a large, muscular body. 

Geto was like a god, Gojo stared in awe, as he shone brightly against a dark corridor and smirked at Gojo. His arms were crossed, he was wearing loose gray sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, and he was leaning on the door as if waiting to see what Gojo would do. 

As if it were ever up for debate. As if even blind, even in turmoil, even if he hated Geto, Gojo wouldn’t gravitate toward the man. 

Gojo smiled through his racing heart and his shaking hands, got out of the car, slowly walking toward Geto as if he was both executioner and savior. As if he hung the very stars that shone in Gojo’s own blue eyes. 

Geto’s eyes followed every move as Gojo slowly climbed those front stairs and approached the door. Then they just stood in front of each other in charged silence. Good silence. Peaceful silence. 

Raising a hand, Geto brushed the still wet bangs off of Gojo’s forehead in a gentle caress. 

And as he looked into those dark almond eyes, Gojo could only chastise himself for stressing about their future. It would all be fine.  

Right?

“All okay, baby?” Geto’s inquisitive look and slight head tilt, all paired with a soft smile, pulled Gojo out of his dazed spiral. 

“Mmm,” Gojo hummed as he returned the soft smile and leaned his head into Geto’s touch. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just wanted to see Megumi, and the girls, and you. But I didn’t realize how early it was,” Gojo tried to play off the awkward embarrassment he felt at admitting he’d wanted to see Geto after having his cock in him not even 48 hours ago. 

But as always, Geto didn’t let him stay in that embarrassed state, “That’s good. We all missed you.” He gently caressed white locks, combing them with his fingers until Gojo couldn’t help the shiver that ran through his body at the soft touch. “Come inside now, please, Satoru, you’ll catch a cold out here with this wet hair.” 

It was impossible to deny the Alpha when he asked like that, his words dripping so sweetly it was almost too much for even Gojo’s sweet tooth. 

Nodding, Gojo followed Geto inside, removing his shoes and walking toward the kitchen where Geto had already begun brewing him a coffee. 

When he noticed Gojo looking around, obviously wondering where Megumi was, Geto came over and clasped Gojo’s hand, dragging him through the tiny apartment and to the door adorned with pink paper hearts, the names “Mimiko” and “Nanako” written on them. 

Geto quietly turned the knob and pushed the door open, inside was still dark but Gojo could make out the two girls each in their respective twin bed, one pushed against the right wall, the other on the left. Between them, on a cot, was Megumi, his brows furrowed even in his sleep. 

Gojo’s heart clenched at how serious his boy always was, and all he wanted to do was smooth the tension away with his thumb. 

Staving off the guilt that it was still early, and telling himself that the kids would have to wake up anyway within a half hour for school, Gojo slipped into the room and crawled onto the cot until he was lying on his side facing Megumi. 

Geto remained at the door watching their two little families. 

Reaching out with his hand, Gojo caressed Megumi’s cheeks, which still retained some of their baby fat, in a way Megumi never let him do when awake. It reminded Gojo so much of when Megumi was a baby and he would get lost pinching those chubby cheeks simply marveling at that gorgeous little face. 

Unable to help himself, Gojo brought his hand over to Megumi’s nose and pinched the nostrils shut. 

Megumi slept soundly for another few seconds before he started twisting his face to get away. When he opened his eyes he was frowning and his brows had furrowed even deeper as he was obviously gearing up to yell at whoever had woken him up in such a rude way. But when he saw it was Gojo smiling down at him, Megumi simply said, “oh it’s you, ” before burying his head into Gojo’s chest and wrapping his arms around him. Gojo hugged him tightly back. 

“Why do you have to suck?” Came Megumi’s muffled voice. 

“Eh you know, can’t have you growing too comfortable without me.” Gojo smiled and squeezed his son even tighter. When he looked back toward the door, he saw it was empty. Geto nowhere in sight. 

***

“Do you not need to go to work?” Geto asked as he quickly served everyone breakfast. They all sat at the intimate circular dining table that had them almost touching elbows. 

Megumi slowed down as he ate, clearly wanting to hear what his father would say, even if he continued to pretend to be disinterested. 

“Nah, not now anyway. Perks of being the boss, I can go into work a little late if needed. I’ll just go after we drop the kids off.” Gojo ruffled Megumi’s hair and tried not to get too fixed on how he’d already started making it sound like they were a family. 

***

Over the next two weeks, Gojo and Megumi fell back into their regular routine of pickups and drop-offs, dinners together and after-school snacks. But now, their routine had grown a bit. Now when Gojo came to pick Megumi up he and Geto would exchange subtle touches and whispered flirtations. 

When he laughed too hard, Gojo would let his body fall into Geto’s. When Geto wanted his attention, he would place his hand on the hollow of Gojo’s back– even if it was just for a fleeting moment. And if he wanted to make a show of telling Gojo something that the kids weren’t allowed to know, he would lean in and whisper in Gojo’s ear and hidden behind the palm of his hand, Geto would nip at the delicate, unpierced lobe. 

Candies slipping between fingers. 

Hair being pushed behind ears and off faces. 

This intimacy only grew when they would have dinners at Geto’s house, where Gojo would clean up and the other would cook.

They would exchange short and deep kisses alike when the kids went to Nanako and Mimiko’s room to play and they were alone at last. They would hold hands over the back of the couch, forced to take opposing sides when they watched movies all together like a family. Geto would lightly squeeze Gojo’s waist whenever he passed by. 

It was so… domestic. So much so that Gojo could feel a silly happy grin splitting his cheeks during the most random moments of the day when he would think back to the way Geto would purr his name or call him “baby.”

Neither of them had commented on any of this, no conversations about how their two families were still just that— two. Or about how they’d never spoken about their looming future. But Gojo didn’t want to break the bubble they were clearly in right now, didn't want to destroy how happy they were. 

Not when Geto looked at him with such soft, endearing smiles. Not when Megumi seemed to frown less. Not when Gojo finally felt right. 

***

Kids were running rampant around the room, laughing and screaming the way children do, with an almost feral happiness at being finished with the school day. Geto had given up on getting them to quiet down and instead just focused on ensuring that everyone was wearing a matching pair of shoes and had their backpacks. 

As he was helping a kid get her shoes on, Geto felt a buzz from his back pocket and a smile spread on his face, knowing that a certain white-haired someone was most likely the sender– maybe it was sad that Geto didn’t receive too many texts (most people who would contact him normally called) but honestly, he didn’t care. 

Once he was standing up again, Geto checked his messages– smiling further at being right. 

               Satoru: Running a little late :’( Can you let Megs know?

Geto replied, of course. Anything, before turning around to hunt down that dark-haired porcupine head. When he spotted Megumi packing his back, he walked over and rested a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. And although he pretended to be above physical touch, it was clearly something Megumi loved as he melted into Geto’s hold. 

“Megumi, Sato– your dad texted that he’s running a little late. Do you want to head out front and I’ll come keep you company as soon as I finish up in here? And maybe we get a snack from the vending machine?”

“I don’t need you to… but if you want to then, okay.” Geto had to suppress a laugh at the fake blasé tone Megumi had even as a small smile spread on his cheeks. 

When Megumi left and Geto was left alone to clean the room, he could only think of how fond he’d grown of that child these past few months, the quiet seriousness that reminded him of a young Gojo– the very one he had hated at first before learning to be patient enough to understand and meet the true bubbly Gojo that he– 

That he… 

His thoughts stuttered. That he what? Liked? Was fond of? 

None of those felt quite right, if Geto was honest with himself, but the alternative was larger than him. Scarier. A thought that he had bridged before only to be left with nothing, forced to suffer his heartbreak alone. With no reason, no explanation. 

And it’s not like they had a future, or any hint of a future where the feelings he felt could be said openly. The thought made a small part of Geto fester inside, made him feel trapped, annoyed. 

Of course, even though these thoughts were chafing tender wounds, they couldn’t stop Geto’s addiction to Gojo, or stop the way Geto’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that white head of hair, that cocky smile, or that hidden shyness Gojo seemed to only unveil around him. 

Geto’s heart beat faster now just thinking about it as he finished cleaning up and walked out into the corridor to keep the son of his once best friend company. 

Geto was recalling the moment he’d first seen those striking blue eyes, how they used to be so dull and yet now looked at him now with revered fondness. It was cute the way Gojo often tried to play off his own affection with an annoying joke– as if the joke could hide the spreading blush on his cheeks and ears. 

God, he just wanted to run his finger down those soft cheeks and into that fluffy white hair, pulling lightly until a soft gasp or moan escaped those sweet pink lips. 

Geto was worrying about how vivid his imagination was when he reached the bench he usually waited on with Megumi, only to not see the kid anywhere. With a furrowed brow, Geto looked around, but Megumi was nowhere to be found. 

His heart started racing for all the wrong reasons. What if something happened to him? He couldn’t do that to Gojo, the kid was his life. 

Hell the kid had become such an integral part of Geto’s own life too. 

Geto started racing around the lingering parents and kids, looking for black porcupine hair. He was almost ready to call for security when he turned the corner where the vending machines were and saw Megumi talking to a man who was squating in front of him. 

Megumi had his classic look of disdain and disgust on his face, and the man had a soft smirk to his own face, one that was bisected by an old scar. 

Geto felt the hairs on his neck stand up at the sight of this stranger talking to Gojo’s son. He walked closer, overhearing the man say, “Megumi, huh? Isn’t that a girl’s name?” and before Megumi could retort (probably and with good reason) rudely, Geto reached him and placed a hand on his shoulder looking down at the boy and the man. 

“Megumi.”

“Geto Sensei?”

The man looked up at Geto, the lazy smirk still there. He made no effort to hide that he was an Alpha, letting his pheromones dance around in the open space, causing Geto to scrunch his own nose in disgust at the obvious attempt to display dominance. 

Geto bristled. 

He hated how his own pheromones began spilling over in challenge, wanting to protect, to draw a line in the sand. 

“Megumi,” Geto repeated, trying to maintain a calm and even tone, “who’s your friend?” 

“Oh, Megumi here was just giving me some directions.” The man smirked up at Geto, not even bothering to get up, as if he couldn’t be bothered. 

“So you decided to ask a child?”

“Eh, little Megumi here just looked… familiar.” The man deepened his smile and then stood up to look Geto eye-to-eye. Geto tightened his grip on Megumi’s shoulder. Geto was taller and relished in being able to look down at him. “I guess I mistook him for my own brat. My mistake.” 

The man reached out to pat the kid’s head but, almost as if on instinct, Megumi tucked his head under Geto’s arm to hide and Geto couldn’t help the way his heart squeezed as he pulled the boy behind him. 

“Yeah, your mistake,” Geto bit back, not even bothering to hide the hostility in his tone– an animalistic instinct and tremor that he usually tried to hide had shoved its way into the light as this man clearly got too comfortable with Megumi. 

Without another word, the man appraised Geto and then turned and walked away. Geto waited a moment, wanting to ensure the man was gone before he turned around and crouched in front of Megumi, trying to catch his dark blue eyes. Ones that seemed to be stubbornly fixed on the ground. 

“Megumi,” he coaxed, waited, and then tried again, this time a little firmer, “Megumi.” When those blue eyes finally met his through long dark eyelashes, “Who was that man?”

“I don’t know.”

“He didn’t tell you his name?”

“No.”

“What did he want?”

“I… I already told you I don’t know. He just asked me where the vending machines were so I showed him and then he asked my name and what grade I was in.”

“Did your dad never tell you about stranger danger?” Geto wanted to shake the kid and then shake a certain lanky white-haired Omega. 

Megumi rolled his eyes, trying to shake loose out of Geto’s hold, “I’m not dumb.” A pause and Geto tried to be patient even though his heart was racing. “He knew my dad.” Megumi added softly, wrinkling his nose. “Asked if I was ‘Gojo Satoru’s’ son. You came right after that.” Then as if trying to plead his case to a jury, Megumi looked Geto head on with big puppy eyes that begged to be believed (something he definitely learned from his father), “I swear that’s it.”

“Don’t worry, I believe you. You’re not in trouble, I was just worried,” Geto paired this with a gentle ruffle of Megumi’s hair before getting up and moving toward the vending machine, asking Megumi what he wanted. 

But he was moving on auto-pilot. Geto could only think about how that man had the same dark blue eyes as Megumi, the same black hair, and seemed to know who he was. 

I guess I mistook him for my own brat. My mistake.

Geto couldn’t help the way the phrase paired with that cocky grin and Alpha pheromones played over and over again in his mind. 

Gojo had never mentioned Megumi’s father to Geto before, and Geto didn’t pry because he had secrets of his own he’d rather not tell, like the girls’ mother. 

He also didn’t feel it was his place… but was this Alpha still in the picture? Did he still want to be a part of Gojo and Megumi’s life? Did Gojo want him ? 

Was Geto reading too much into this? The man could truly have simply been lost and asking for directions, but it all seemed a little too convenient, the pieces fitting together a little too well. 

Who exactly was that man?

***

“Hey,” a soft peck was pressed to his cheek as he stirred the food in the pan. When Geto finally looked over at those piercing blue eyes, their owner smiled and pecked him again, “I’ve been calling your name for a while, Suguru. Am I boring you? Because that’s kinda impossible…”

Gojo was pressed against his back, arms wrapped around his waist, and chin resting on his shoulder, in a pose of intimacy saved for when it was just the two of them. 

“Mmm. Were you? Sorry, just lost in thought.” Geto gave the food another stir, feeling the heat of Gojo’s body pressed against his own, hearing the sound of the kids watching or playing some video game in their room. 

“Thinking about how amazing I am?” A mischievous squeeze of his waist. Geto couldn’t help but laugh and playfully roll his eyes. 

“More like how annoying you are.” When Gojo pouted his lips in response, Geto, familiar with this game, turned his body slightly to peck them, again and again until the pout melted away. 

They had fallen together so quickly, almost as if they hadn’t spent nearly a decade apart, but rather as if no time had passed at all. Exchanging soft touches and kisses whenever they were out of sight. Thankfully they had some semblance of self to remember not to openly ogle and touch each other in front of the kids. They’d somehow silently agreed that they didn’t want to risk confusing or involving the kids in whatever was happening between them. 

Probably because they had no future, Geto thought cynically. 

Though Geto was sure they’d picked up on it. Gojo wasn’t the best at keeping his flirtatious remarks to himself– probably because he thought he was being “subtle.” Geto laughed again at the thought. As if it could be called subtle to palm Geto’s ass whenever he’d walk by, or resting his chin on Geto’s shoulder when they were idly standing together, like now. 

As if it wasn’t evident in the way Gojo almost whined Geto’s name, saying it as if the word were some heavy thing that weighed down his tongue and tumbled out of his mouth. 

As if Geto himself didn’t purr and caress Gojo’s name as if it were fragile.

Not that it mattered, anyway. They weren’t anything outside of friends who… cared about each other. There’d been no declarations of a deeper relationship, hell, even in high school they’d never gotten into a conversation about labels. 

Maybe they should have. 

After all, they'd never said they were exclusive. That Gojo couldn’t still be talking to other people. He was gorgeous, affluent, and a dominant Omega (even if a closeted one), it would probably be weirder if he wasn’t seeing other people. 

Hmm. 

Geto pressed his lips together in a straight line. 

“Did you want to tell me anything?” Geto threw out as he continued to stir the food in the pan, although at this point he was doing it more for himself than for the sake of the actual food. 

“Mmm like what? How cool I am? How handsome you are?” Gojo dropped a ticklish kiss on Geto's neck. 

“No, not like that…” Geto started. Paused. Cleared his throat. Started again.. “You know, you never really told me anything about Megumi’s dad.” He almost wanted to take it back as soon as he said it– almost. He felt Gojo’s body stiffen behind him before artificially forcing itself to relax as if nothing was wrong. 

“What is there to tell?” Another soft kiss. 

“Well, Megumi said you weren’t married, didn’t have a partner.” Geto threw the lifeline. 

“I don’t– didn’t.” Geto couldn’t help the way he turned his neck to catch Gojo’s eye, wanting to see him as he said these words. Wanted to see what he looked like when he lied, or told the truth. 

Baby blue eyes looked up at him, cheek half-smushed against Geto’s shoulder. Gojo’s eyes flitted away before looking back at him, whispering, “Megumi’s dad… he’s nobody. He doesn’t matter.”

And Geto wanted to believe him. 

He just nodded and went back to his stirring. 

***

Gojo could tell something was off. Geto had been quiet all throughout dinner, simply poking and moving around his food, nodding occasionally with a soft smile whenever one of their kids said something worth acknowledging. But as soon as that child turned away, Geto went back to pressing his lips together and staring at his food as if it held some answer. 

Gojo nudged Geto’s leg under the table and turned his head so that it was low and looked up into the other man’s face. Gojo softly smiled in a way he unconsciously only did to those he loved. Geto looked away. 

Gojo tried not to let it bother him, saved from his own worries by Megumi. 

“Yuuji came to class today with a whale.” 

“A whale?” Gojo asked, rubbing the back of Megumi’s head.

“A stuffed whale,” Nanako clarified.

“That’s what I said. ”

“No, it isn’t. ”

Sensing a fight brewing between the two hotheads, Gojo intervened, “Where did he get the whale?”

Argument quickly forgotten, “He went to the aquarium with his brother, Choso, over the weekend.”

“The kid with the pigtails?”

“Yeah.”

It was quiet. The three kids looked at each other, and Gojo watched it happen as Nanako raised her eyebrows at Megumi, and he nodded back. 

“Yeah, Yuuji said it was really cool.” Megumi kept his bored act up pretty well, and Gojo could feel his cheeks twitching with the urge to laugh at what these two masterminds were clearly planning.

“Yeah, Yuuji said even his brother liked it and he’s 15.” Nanako said this as if 15 was supposed to be an impressive age.

Gojo looked at the kids again, innocent Mimiko was fighting a smile, clearly in on the plan and finding it so very funny that they were pulling it off. 

“Ah okay, if even the 15-year-old liked it, then it must be fun.” Gojo played along. 

Nanako nodded her head in agreement. After a second, Megumi started nodding his head too. Then Mimiko joined, one hand covering her mouth to silence any laughter. 

“Well, I was just thinking that I really wanted to go to the aquarium, what do you think, Suguru?” No response. “Suguru?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you think about going to the aquarium this weekend?” Geto raised a brow and looked at Gojo almost as if he’d gone insane, clearly having missed the entire prior conversation. Gojo simply darted his eyes to the side, indicating he should look at the three kids at the table and when Geto did he could see three wriggling bodies all fighting their excitement. Geto looked back at Gojo and smiled conspiratorially.

“Oh, I don’t know, I heard there are sharks there, aren’t you afraid of them, Satoru?” A mocking, yet sweet, smile. 

“You’ll just have to protect me then,” Gojo almost purred back. 

Geto looked at Gojo for a moment, and then to the kids, “I guess we're going to the aquarium this weekend.” 

The announcement was met with giggling shrieks and a kiss on Geto’s cheek from Gojo. Maybe they weren’t a family, but they were together. 

***

That was how Geto and Gojo found themselves at the aquarium on an early Saturday morning, surrounded by hordes of excited children, many of which were pressing their faces to the glass in awe– leaving the various tanks covered in smudged hand and nose prints, almost obscuring the sight of the fish for anyone under five feet tall.

This of course included Mimiko, Nanako, and Megumi who were a short distance away, watching a squid cling to a rock. 

And that first exhibit was as far as Geto and Gojo made it into the aquarium before their kids had declared they needed to visit the gift shop, because while most children would wait to see at least a few of the animals before buying a souvenir, their kids had already decided what they wanted. 

Honestly, it had been a little disorienting for the two adults. As soon as their makeshift family had arrived at the aquarium at 9am, they had been forced to make a quick impromptu stop to see the squid in the first exhibit before Megumi had latched onto his dad and dragged Gojo to the gift shop by his hand. At the same time, Nanako and Mimiko had pressed their hands against their own dad’s back and pushed him forward to follow. 

“Come on, move faaaster,” Nanako had whined as she’d tried to push her dad to catch up with Gojo and Megumi’s quick pace. Geto had laughed and Nanako let out an annoyed gasp when it seemed like Geto had started moving even slower.

By the time those three reached the gift shop, Gojo was already exchanging the cap Megumi was wearing with a bucket hat that had an embroidered octopus on it. Gojo kept his own cap on, along with his signature square glasses– ever in disguise. 

Geto couldn’t help but watch the Omega out of the corner of his eye as the girls dragged Geto to a display of plush whales and seahorses. Did Gojo truly think no one would recognize him with a simple hat and glasses? It was almost as believable as no one recognizing Clark Kent for Superman. There was just something about Gojo that was striking. It went beyond that signature white hair and incredibly tall, lithe body. Gojo had an aura about him that demanded attention, demanded worshipers, demanded that every eye in a place follow him. 

Even as a Beta, Geto could have recognize him blind. 

Drawn to that Omega again and again. It was like watching a slow motion car crash. It was like watching fireworks. Like magnets. Like that first bite of home cooked food. Like that first official day of summer. 

It was like being in love. 

It was kismet. 

Geto watched his daughters each pick a toy they wanted, listening as Gojo helped his son pick between an octopus and a squid plushie, the two of them arguing about whether they were one and the same or not. 

His heart clenched when Gojo laughed, something light yet deep, at Megumi’s pouting face before he offered to just buy both. 

At the checkout counter, when the girls had their matching pink and purple whales, and Megumi had his octopus and squid, Gojo reached into his bag to grab his wallet but Geto simply put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Hey what–” The question dropped off when he saw Geto handing his own card to the cashier.

“You always beat me to the punch and pay, you even got the tickets today, let me buy this.”

“Suguru, you don’t have to!”

“Eh, but I want to,” He smiled at the soft blush Gojo took on as Geto added a seahorse-shaped lollipop to their trove of items at the check out. When everything was done and paid for, he handed the children their plushies, and then handed Gojo the lollipop. Gojo, who tried to hide his deepening blush as he popped the lollipop into his mouth until the treat stretched his left cheek obscenely. 

He was so gorgeous, it still made Geto’s breath catch sometimes. His skin was so smooth and soft, and while he did laugh often and loudly, Geto found that he liked this smile the most– the shy, boyish one saved just for him. 

Geto couldn’t help the way his hand lifted and cupped Gojo’s face while his thumb rubbed at where the lollipop protruded. 

He’d barely managed one swipe before Gojo yanked his head back and out of Geto’s grasp, his eyebrows shooting up over those glasses, his chin shifting slightly to the right in a way that told Geto he was looking at the cashier, who was equally watching them. 

Gojo let out a sharp laugh before leaning down to grab Megumi’s hand, “C’mon! I want to see the turtles!” Dragging them both out of the gift shop and into the next exhibit area. 

Geto was left with his hand up in the air before he came to his senses and tightened it into a fist, bringing it back down to his side. He coughed awkwardly, then looked down at where the girls were watching him– of course they were watching that spectacular fail of a moment. 

“Let’s go girls, didn’t you want to see the turtles too?” Nodding their heads and clutching their respective toy, the girls followed Geto as the three of them walked out to meet the other half of their group. 

They found Megumi and Gojo, both with their hands cupped around their eyes and their faces pressed to the glass as if they were trying to see something in the water.

“There! There!”

“I don’t see him?”

“Megumiiiiii, do I need to take you to the eye doctor? He’s right there!”

“Where?”

“There!”

“What are you looking for?” Nanako came up behind Megumi, scrunching her brows and nose as if she too were trying to see what they saw. 

“My dad said he saw Nemo in there.”

“Really??” Mimiko quickly mimicked Megumi’s position trying to see clownfish. Slowly, almost suspiciously, Nanako followed. 

“Oh! I think I saw something orange!” Mimiko gasped.

“Where?!” Megumi shouted in disbelief. 

Gojo pulled away from the glass, the plush squid held in his hand, and walked over to Geto with a silly smile on his face. He stopped about a foot away, looking over almost smugly. 

“There’s no clownfish, is there.”

“Nah, but Megumi kept talking about how boring turtles were and we just saw Finding Nemo a few nights ago, so…” Gojo laughed softly at the memory, taking the lollipop out of his mouth with a pop before returning it back to his mouth.

“You know there actually are clownfish at the aquarium, right? They’re in the third exhibit area.”

“Oh, seriously? Woops.” He shrugged. They listened to the kids’ excited chattering for a bit before Gojo angled his head slightly to look at Geto, a concerned furrow to his brow, “All okay? You seem a bit quiet lately, Suguru.” 

“Just a bit tired, nothing serious.”

“You’d tell me if something was wrong though, right?”

It was quiet as Gojo watched him, as if waiting for something. Was something wrong? Geto didn’t know. He loved Gojo, he was sure of that. He just wasn’t so sure he was worthy of Gojo’s love, and maybe Gojo thought the same, from the way he constantly pulled away from Geto’s touch. From the way he was so nervous to be seen with Geto. 

Maybe that wasn’t a matter of love. But did that make it any better?

Geto felt his cheeks pull as he offered Gojo a soft smile, “Of course.”

Ah, there was that soft, boyish smile again. Geto’s stomach flipped in adoration. Especially as that smile quickly curled into one of mischief. 

“Oh my god! Nemo!”

“Where?” All three kids echoed as they looked over to where Gojo was pointing.

“I saw him swim this way, quick! We have to catch him!” Gojo started running down the hall and all three kids quickly ran after him. Geto walked over to the glass and picked up the three plushies left behind, and then slowly trailed after his family. 

When he finally made it to the third exhibit it was to hear Gojo triumphantly tell all three kids, “See! I told you I saw Nemo. And you didn’t believe your elder. Shame on all three of you for thinking I was lying!” It would have seemed like Gojo was lecturing the kids if he didn’t sound like the whiny brat being lectured. 

The four of them were standing in front of a small window that looked into a miniature aquarium, filled with coral, anemones, and at least thirty clownfish in varying shades of orange. Gojo was trying to work out, with the kids’ help, which one the ‘real’ Nemo was, since obviously these were all of his brothers and sisters that went missing in the beginning of the movie. 

Geto stood back and watched as Gojo listened to each kids’ theory, crouching in front of them to hear them better, ruffling not only Megumi’s hair but also Mimiko and Nanako’s as if to reward their guesses. 

Geto sometimes couldn’t believe that Gojo was forced to live this life, one where he wasn’t allowed to be the self he so clearly yearned for. It was so clear that this is who Gojo was meant to be, someone nurturing and loving, and not his parents’ ideal of a cold, work-oriented Alpha/Beta.

That false persona that seemed to unravel almost automatically in public. When Gojo came to the elementary school, or when they went out to cafes together, Gojo was still himself, but it was almost plastic-y, almost eccentric to a point of falsities, in which Geto could see that behind that wide smile existed a calculating melancholic persona.

But when they were alone at home, or in quiet intimate moments like this when no one was around, Gojo offered more authentic, quiet, shy laughs and smiles, more openly held and spoke with the children. He even looked at Geto with a shine to his eyes that Geto could not describe, could not draw even if he were a renowned artist.

Some things only exist in the living, dulled by memories and imitations. 

The truth was Gojo had always been the sun in which Geto was drawn to: some days there was an overcast, and other times there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Right now, watching Gojo pinch the arms and pet the heads of their kids, was the latter. 

Gojo deserved this. Deserved to be happy, to be himself . And while Geto didn’t think he himself deserved anything, he did want to be allowed the space to watch Gojo shine. 

All he asked was to be a seed planted with a view of the sun, instead of hidden in the shed. Was that too much?

“Suguru, come here and tell our kids I’m right!” Gojo was crouched by the children, his finger pressed to the glass, leaving a smudge print. He had that look of playful anger. “ That one is clearly Nemo!”

“Do you really need my backup against a trio of six-year-olds, Satoru?” He tried not to pay attention to the way Gojo called them ‘our kids.’

“Obviously! They are bullying me, Suguru!” Geto huffed a laugh and walked over.

“ This one is obviously Nemo! He’s got a small fin and everything!” Nanako countered as soon as Geto reached them. 

Geto bent at his waist to look at the fish closely, resting his finger on his chin as if deep in thought. After a moment, “That one is clearly Nemo.”

“Suguru!” Gojo called out in a gasp of betrayal.

“We told you!” All three kids were laughing at having been right. 

Geto turned to smile at Gojo, who was still playfully pouting. After a moment of pretending he couldn’t see Geto, Gojo returned a shy smile of his own.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Ever since his heat had caused him to miss a few days of work, Gojo had been swamped trying to catch up, and as his company entered one of its busiest seasons, each day was increasingly busier than the last. 

Which is why when he found himself with 45 minutes to spare that Thursday afternoon, his eyes aching from the screentime strain and his head pulsing with the reports he’d been analyzing all day, Gojo decided to go out and get himself a sweet little treat– maybe some kikifuku. 

Maybe he’d even get an extra few to share with Geto and his girls when he went to pick up Megumi from school today. He hadn’t seen them since the day at the aquarium, and despite what he’d said, Geto had been a little quieter than usual. 

Maybe having a little mochi is exactly what Geto needs to cheer up. It always helped Gojo when he was feeling down after all. 

With this new mission, Gojo didn’t even bother trying to stifle the smile that had spread on his cheeks while he walked down the street. The best kikifuku place was only 15 minutes away on foot but he had to cut through a few side streets to make good time, but it was worth it. 

Gojo mentally went through the catalog of flavors in his head on the walk over trying to think what flavor Geto, Mimiko, and Nanako would like the most. He already knew what to get himself and Megumi. 

Managing to make it to the store in exactly 15 minutes, Gojo ordered two treats for everyone, ensuring he got a variety of flavors, and then got an extra for himself to enjoy as he walked back to work. 

The weather was brisk and still had a little nip of the winter temperature but overall it was a nice walk and Gojo tried to just enjoy the gentle stretch of his legs and swing of his arms. 

Gojo was just about to pull his phone out and text Geto that he had a surprise for him when he heard someone call out from slightly behind him. 

“Satoru,” Gojo felt a chill run up his spine, he kept his back to the speaker, standing a little straighter. “Or should I be calling you Gojo, princess?”

Taking a breath and plastering a lazy smile on his face, Gojo turned around and faced the man he hadn’t seen in six or so years. 

“Sorry, do I know you?”

A deep laugh, “Very funny, princess, but you don’t get to suck my cock like you did, take my knot like you did, and pretend you don’t know me.”

Gojo’s cheeks burned slightly but he didn’t allow that to change his posture, his cocky domineering aura that only being forced to cosplay heir in an Alpha household could allow him to have. 

“So what Toji, you’ve come for another round? Thanks but I’m not interested in my own sloppy seconds.” Gojo looked behind himself, back down the empty street in the direction he’d originally been walking, ready to end the conversation and turn around when Toji’s deep timber and flood of cloying pheromones reached Gojo– even from their few feet of distance. 

“You know, I met a brat the other day who looked an awful lot like me. What was his name again? Mutsumi? Mitsuru?” Gojo’s spine stiffened and he whipped his face back to glare at Toji as the Alpha tapped his chin and looked off to the side as if deep in thought. But when he readied the killing blow he looked Gojo right in the eyes and said his son’s name, “Megumi? Oh yeah, that was it. Cute kid.”

“Don’t even think– ”

“When I called you princess I didn’t know you actually were one, Satoru. Wonder how much people would pay to know that the Gojo heir was actually a dominant Omega with a brat?” Toji walked closer as he spoke until they were only a foot away and Gojo was suffocating under the pressure of the Alpha’s pheromones. 

“Did you think you could hide my own son from me this entire time?” Toji smiled as Gojo saw red.

“He is not your son.” Any other words were stopped as Toji’s hand snapped out and he grabbed Gojo’s jaw in a tight hold, squishing his cheeks and forcing him to look down into Toji’s eyes. 

“Don’t insult me and try to lie that that little brat isn’t mine— isn’t the result of me knotting you and pumping your womb full of my cum until you were swollen and leaking.” Toji move closer so that their cheeks pressed against each other and his mouth was right next to Gojo’s ear. “I was knotted in you for hours . And when I finally pulled out and watched my cum dribble out of you I almost got hard enough to knot you again, maybe then Megumi might even have been a twin.”

Gojo ripped his red face out of Toji’s grip, fighting the urge to bring his hand up and rub the ache out of his jaw. “That’s not how twins work, you idiot.”

“Who cares, all that matters, all that anyone will care about is that Megumi is my son and you're his slutty little mother. Well… unless…” Toji smirked and looked at Gojo expectantly and Gojo managed to both grow more infuriated and relieved now catching onto what this idiot wanted. 

Exactly what everyone wanted. 

To unveil his secret, to weaken him. 

“You want money, right?” Even though his face was still red, his jaw still hurt, and he could tell he was leaking slightly from the onslaught of Alpha pheromones, Gojo managed to put that mask of blasé indifference on his face as he regarded the Alpha. 

“Ah, so you’re pretty and smart.”

“I had told you so.” Gojo was already undoing the watch on his wrist. “You’ll leave me alone?”

“If it’s worth my time.”

Gojo felt himself frown, but he just wanted Toji out of his life. Out of Megumi’s life. 

Not now. Not when things were going well. Not when a few words from this man could make his life a PR nightmare, could cause him to lose everything he’d worked for and sacrificed up to now.  

He couldn’t let that happen.

“Here, take this. It’s 14 million yen, though you could probably get more. It’s the best I can do on short notice and without raising any eyebrows. Now, leave me, and my family alone, or next time I won’t be so kind.”

Gojo turned around and walked away, trying not to run as his breath started to saw in and out of his lungs in panic. He could hear Toji laughing behind him, and when Gojo turned the corner he ran all the way back to his office. 

He only realized when he was back in the building’s lobby that he must have dropped the kikifuku at some point. 

***

Children were chatting in loose clusters, trading things like toys and candies while their parents and guardians watched from a short distance, chatting amongst themselves about the habits and preferences of their kids. 

Gojo was running late, so by the time he was trying to catch his breath, the entryway of the school was already littered with kids and parents. His eyes searched for a familiar black-haired kid, the stress of his day still clawing at his mind, causing him to panic slightly as he wove through the crowd, eyeing each cluster. 

It probably hadn’t been more than two minutes until his eyes finally caught sight of his son, standing next to Geto’s two girls and that familiar pink haired kid and his older brother with the puffy space buns and chunky Dr. Martens.

Gojo’s heart finally calmed, though he still felt the high strung anxiety of the day, as he approached the group of five, lightly ruffling Megumi’s hair.

The kid didn’t bother looking up, already knowing that the only person who ruffled his hair was his dad. He didn’t bother acknowledging the taller man, simply continuing the discussion with his friends, but he did bring his hand up and grabbed onto Gojo’s own. 

Gojo squeezed the little hand and smiled when it squeezed his back. 

He felt that piled-on anxiety finally begin to unfurl in his chest. 

With his hand occupied, and the children continuing to discuss something about some Pokemon episodes, Gojo swiveled and craned his neck to try and catch a glimpse of his other dark-haired man. 

He needed to see him, to hear the soft way he said his name, to fully calm down and feel some semblance of safety. 

The kids and their parents were starting to leave the school grounds, the area around them slowly emptying out. And yet Gojo still couldn’t see his favorite pierced teacher. 

God, Geto was so hot with those earrings. Gojo had thought the plain studs were a nice touch in their youth but who’d have thought that as an adult, he’d find himself salivating over gauges. 

Not him, that’s for sure. But here he was. 

“Girls, ready to–” Gojo felt a wide, heavy hand come to rest on his lower back, the deep voice purring somewhere to his left. 

Shifting slightly out of that grip, Gojo, and all the children, turned towards the owner of that voice as if he was the sun and they were all plants basking in his glow. But the smile that had started to grow on Gojo’s face paused when he met Geto’s eyes and saw that he was looking at him with a wrinkled nose and furrowed brow, head slightly shifted back as if he didn’t know who Gojo was. 

“Suguru?” Gojo asked tentatively. Geto’s eyes looked him up and down but not in a way that caused Gojo’s body to tingle with butterflies, but instead made him feel cold. 

“Where were…? With who…?”

“What?” Gojo tried to parse together what Geto could be sputtering about. 

“Why do you smell like him ?” Gojo’s body went cold. He turned his head subtly and sniffed his jacket. His cheeks flushed. 

It still smelled like Toji. 

Fuck.

He had showered and changed clothes as soon as he got back to his office, feeling like his skin was crawling with ants after being perfumed in all those pheromones. 

But he’d forgotten about his jacket. 

Gojo felt a hand squeeze his, but couldn’t look away from the pained expression in Geto’s eyes, which tracked the blush that had blossomed on his cheeks.  

“You said he wasn’t in your life. That he was no one.”

“Who?” A little voice asked, tugging on Gojo’s hand. Gojo finally looked back at the group of kids, watching as they were all looking at Geto and Gojo, eyes trained on their conversations, on Geto’s face which had cracked from its usual calm facade. On Gojo’s usual cocky height, now cowering slightly in the face of Geto’s angry pheromones. 

Pheromones that rarely ever came out so openly, that were normally a soft gentle smokiness but now raged like a wildfire. 

Gojo hated how his body cowered at those pheromones. Hated that this was the second time today that he’d been pushed into a submissive role by an Alpha when he’s managed to get by in life just fine never experiencing this. 

He hated how his skin felt itchy with the stares of the kids nearest him but also of the straggling parents in the courtyard. 

“So for him you’re willing to walk around drenched in both your pheromones, but for m–” Geto stopped, taking a deep breath as if he was trying not to lose it. 

Gojo felt his own breath catch in his throat, suffocating him. He hadn’t realized it but as he smelled himself again, he could make out the softer sweeter Omegan pheromones underneath the domineering Alphan ones. 

He felt sick.  

“Suguru, stop talking .” He knew his hush-whisper was a little too harsh, but for god’s sake they looked like an old bickering couple, and Gojo needed to get out of here. “Let’s continue this conversation where people can’t– wait.” 

A thought finally came to mind as he looked at Geto’s hurt and upset face. It’s normally beautiful serenity now pulled together in a forceful frown. 

Gojo was just remembering that Geto hadn’t asked why Gojo had another Alpha’s pheromones on him, but why he had his pheromones on him. 

His. 

How did Geto know what Toji’s pheromones smell like?

“Wait. How do you know who he is?” Gojo stood a little taller, looking at Geto anew. Trying to understand from the Alpha’s facial features how he knew the other Alpha. Why he knew him. 

That question seemed to catch Geto enough by surprise that his eyebrows lifted and he opened his mouth but nothing came out. 

“Do you mean that weird guy with the scar on his mouth?” Gojo’s eyes widened and he slowly turned toward his son. 

“How do you know that man?”

“Geto and I met him last week when he came here. He said he knew you and asked my name… was I not supposed to tell him, dad?” Megumi looked up at Gojo with wide dark blue puppy eyes, his face contorted in worry that he might be the cause of this fight. 

“No, no Megumi. It’s okay. I’m just surprised is all.” He squatted in front of his son and tried to comfort a child who was much too young to learn about what a dick his biological father is. 

“Nanako, why don’t you and everyone get some snacks from the vending machine,” Geto passed some money over to his daughter, his request leaving no room for argument, and watched as the kids hesitantly all walked toward the vending machines around the far corner. 

The last to leave was Megumi who watched his dad with serious eyes and held tight to their clasped hands. It wasn’t until Gojo squeezed that little hand and nodded with a small smile, that Megumi slowly let go of the hand he held and followed the other kids around the corner– glancing over his shoulder occasionally. Gojo simply nodded again and kept up that small smile until his son turned the corner. 

Then it was just Gojo and Geto. Gojo is still squating on the ground and Geto standing above him with his hands crossed. 

Neither spoke. 

“How do you know Toji?” Gojo finally muttered, looking at the ground, squatting, facing away from Geto. 

“Why do you smell like him– like Toji ?” Geto’s voice was stern. Gojo couldn’t look at him.

He stood up.

Gojo made to grab for Geto’s hand, but felt his heart crack when Geto pulled his hand away. Trying not to let it show, not let his weaker Omegan instincts lead to a complete breakdown in front of the few lingering parents and faculty, Gojo managed a, “Follow me” before he walked away, trusting Geto would follow. 

That he still cared about Gojo enough to do so. 

After he’d walked five minutes and found himself in an empty space behind the school, Gojo turned around and was relieved to see Geto there, hands in pockets. 

“Why are you asking me something you already know the answer to?” Gojo asked Geto, trying to put on a mask of confidence he didn’t feel. What he did feel was sadness, frustration, and anger– but at who exactly he wasn’t entirely sure.  

Geto was growing so frustrated he felt it like a claw at his throat, it always came back to this didn’t it? Gojo was Gojo, and he couldn’t be Geto’s– not fully. Beta or Alpha, Geto just wasn’t good enough to convince Gojo to be with him. It would always be secret meetings and rendezvouses at his place, and hand holding and hugs in his kitchen, but if they were out it was five feet apart and chaste goodbyes. 

It was so hot and cold, it drove Geto wild. It was worse because there was no firm line in the sand. When Gojo decided he could drive to school in a heat and risk the whole world smelling his sweet pheromones it was okay. When Gojo wanted to pinch Geto’s ass on school property, it was fine. But when Geto tried to place a hand on his back or step closer, Gojo would always subtly pull away. 

And he didn’t care about all that, he really didn’t. It was Gojo’s life. But… 

But. 

When it was Toji they could swap pheromones and meet up during daylight hours no problem? When it was Toji Gojo was ready to risk his entire reputation and even keep their kid. When it was Toji being an Alpha didn’t have to be some bad, cloying, choking, thing that it was for Geto. 

“So what, you were just keeping him a secret until you were ready to what, have a perfect family? After we were done? Did you think I wouldn’t be able to smell him on you? With him, are you finally ready to be an Omega?”

Geto shouldn’t be getting upset, he told himself this over and over again. He had no right to be upset. At the end of the day he would probably hurt Gojo, even now his instincts were firing at him to claim, to bite, to make Gojo his . And he hated it. Hated it so much it made his skin crawl. Being a good alpha was an oxymoron for him, but here he was wishing it was true. Here he was wishing Gojo believed in him enough to prove it true. But his instincts burned, and he was just so jealous. So angry.

“Done?” Gojo felt the crease between his brows grow. Caught on those words. When they were done. His heart clenched. Something so easily said, that their relationship was something that could just be done. “I didn’t say that. What are you talking about? And cool it with the ‘Omega’ talk, someone might hear you.”

Geto almost laughed, “God you’re so obsessed with that, with keeping being an Omega a secret. Why? No one can stop you anymore! Your father is gone, you’re the CEO, you talked up a big game when we were young about inciting change but here you are– still the ever-hidden Omega.”

“That’s not true! You clearly don’t know anything about my life. I can’t just announce that I’m an Omega, it doesn’t work like that!”. 

“Clearly.”

Gojo moved to step toward Geto, but the shorter man flinched back. 

“You reek like him.” The pheromones were so possessive they caused Geto’s stomach to roll. 

Gojo’s face was contorting from shock and confusion to anger, and he couldn’t help how his hand lashed out and shoved the other man’s chest. “That’s all you care about isn’t it? Just like any other thick-headed Alpha. Thinking with your pheromones and cock. What do you think, now that we’ve slept together it means I’m your property? That you have a say in what I do and with who.”

Geto grabbed the hand that poked his chest, wrapping his fingers around that lithe wrist, “Did you? Sleep with him?”

A scoff, “Obviously, given I have Megumi.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Why is it any of your business?” The two stared at each other and Gojo waited, hoped, that Geto would say that it was his business because he cared. Because even though Gojo came with baggage, he was worth it. 

But instead, the hold on his wrist slacked and slowly let go. Geto was tired, tired of fighting his own instincts while they riled against him. Tired of this dance he and Gojo had. 

Geto looked him in the eye as he took a step back and simply said, “You’re right, it’s not,” before turning to walk away. 

Geto paused for a moment, looked back over his shoulder as if he wanted to say something, but remained silent. 

And then he… left. 

Gojo just stood there, body exhausted. 

Dazed. 

Mind trying to understand what had just happened. 

How had they gotten here? How had Toji caused so much trouble? Why did Geto even think that Gojo could tolerate anyone else but him? Would want anyone else but him. 

Why was he being so hard-headed? 

Gojo didn’t move until he felt a hand pull at his and a tentative, “dad?” He tried to rearrange his face into something that wouldn’t make Megumi worry but the smile pulled uncomfortably at his cheeks.

He kept it up anyway. 

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Megumi nodded and the two slowly made their way to the parking lot. About halfway there Megumi gave his hand a light squeeze.

“Dad, what happened to your watch?”

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

It was dark; a combination of the shades being drawn shut, the comforter being aggressively tugged over his head, and his eyes being closed. But it felt right, he didn’t want to see any light. He barely wanted to catch sight of his own reflection in the mirror, to see his swollen eyes, pinked cheeks, and pathetically dribbling nose. 

No, Gojo was far more comfortable cocooned in the warmth of his nest, on his egyptian cotton sheets and nestled against his silk pillow cases. 

This had been his routine for the past three days, much to his secretary’s dismay. A routine where he would wake up to feed Megumi breakfast, crawl into his nest, hear the nanny pick him up, rot the day away watching bad movies, hear the nanny drop him off, get out of his nest when Megumi said he was hungry and then go back to bed. 

He was a bad dad, you could say it. But every moment was suffocating and even the act of getting out of bed was a feat, his limbs dragging him down, his stomach and heart trying to find a new home on the floor in front of him– or at least that’s how it felt. 

He was also adult enough to be able to acknowledge that that probably wasn’t the best coping mechanism, but anytime he let his mind stray, or had a quiet moment to think, it would just take him back to that day. 

The slight breeze in the air he’d barely been able to register. The rough texture of the school building. The paved walkway and the sound of cars driving nearby. The distant sound of chattering children. The suffocating press of his scent patches as his pheromones tried to release as if begging for the Alpha’s attention. Geto’s own suffocating pheromones– the ones that were normally so light and soft that Gojo found himself drawn to them the way your nose follows the scent of fresh baked bread escaping bakeries in the early mornings. The scent of butter and yeast seducing nostrils. But instead of floury concoctions, Gojo’s body would purr at the smokey, woodsy scent of the man who had invaded his life. 

But in that moment, Gojo could only recall the way those pheromones rushed out of the man like an angry flood and yet his face was one of passive despair and frustration. Even now, Gojo couldn’t go so far as to call those features angry even though he knew that’s what Geto was. 

His anger indicated in the way he had turned around and left Gojo fumbling for words. For a Wait, a Please, even a Don’t leave me. But instead Gojo’d been frozen, his own features pissed, his tongue still hot from the violent words he’d thrown out between them. 

The last conscious memory he has is of those broad shoulders walking away, the rest a blurry memory, until he came home and crawled into bed, Megumi following close behind. The young boy had tunneled his way into Gojo’s arm until those arms held him close, little hands fisted between them, Gojo’s nose buried in wild black hair. 

And when Gojo had begun softly, quietly crying, biting his lip so as not to wake up Megumi, he had felt his son tightly grasp Gojo’s shirt and cuddle in even closer. That had only made the hot tears fall harder.

It was probably the only reason Gojo hadn’t drunk himself to oblivion that night. 

It hurt. God it hurt. 

The thoughts whirred through his head all through the night as he held his son as if he was a lifeline. 

It hurt in a way it hadn’t when he was young. Back then he’d been fueled by hormones and idiocracies of first loves and betrayals, and he’d loved so deeply even if he hadn’t known what to call it back then. Even if he hadn’t known that the way he had opened up to Geto about his life, the way his instincts calmed and purred around the man in a way they never had before had meant he was in love. Maybe it hurt even more that Geto hadn’t felt the same way– or at least that’s what Gojo had thought. 

But back then, he’d had a change of pace, change of environment to steady him, to try and help him forget. A new life to fully fall into, and while it hadn’t always worked, when he’d finally held Megumi in his arms, his heart had managed to mend where it had been broken for so long. Had managed to find a new purpose, a new reason to love. 

But now? This had been his chance to make it right. When he’d seen Geto– taller, bigger, with long hair flowing, an Alpha– for the first time in years, yes he’d panicked but his heart had also beat in a way that felt whole. For the first time in a long time, he’d felt that inkling of falling in love again. 

And each day just solidified that. How sweet Geto was with his daughters, how fondly he looked at them with a soft smile on his face. How kind he was to Megumi, even though he didn’t have to be– he was. How respectful he was of his pheromones, never wanting to impose, always careful. His big hands wrapped so delicately around Gojo’s waist as if ready to protect him from everything, as if he couldn’t get Gojo close enough. 

It was the fact that all these years later Gojo had to learn that his father had lied to him, that Geto had never wanted to leave him, that Geto had actually tried to find him. How much pain would that have saved them? If Geto had also gone to Berkeley, they would have walked to classes together, lived together, and gone to dinner together where Gojo would hold Geto’s hand under the table and they would catch up on their day and Geto would indulge Gojo’s frantic storytelling. 

And Gojo wouldn’t have had to have all those good and bad experiences when he was trying to get over Geto. He wouldn’t have gotten with Toji… which meant he wouldn’t have Megumi. 

That thought made him frown through the still flowing tears. Made him press his cheek to the top of his son’s head and just listen to his even breaths. 

He probably wouldn’t be that close with Nanami either. 

If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t even know if his relationship with Geto would have lasted for very long, thinking back on their argument. 

“God you’re so obsessed with that, with keeping being an Omega a secret. Why? No one can stop you anymore! Your father is gone, you’re the CEO, you talked up a big game when we were young about inciting change but here you are– still the ever-hidden Omega.”

The words still stung and Gojo felt his face heat up as if with fever as more hot tears fell. He thought back to that dreamy scene of the two of them in California, having dinner together at a restaurant, but now instead of imagining them side by side, holding hands, and sharing a plate, he imagines them sitting across from each other, too nervous to even intertwine their legs under the table. Geto’s mouth twisted in displeasure. He thinks of walking to class together, but having to maintain some distance. Of going home together but never having Geto’s name on the doorbell of the apartment. Of quiet arguments in bed where they would each shuffle to their own given side and fester in silence. Geto’s frustration at being a secret, Gojo’s at being forced to hold it. 

But what was he supposed to do? From the moment he was born, Gojo was told about the superiority of Alphas, the pride in coming from a pure Alphan bloodline, fed the belief that that made his body and mind superior in some way– only to present as an Omega. 

His father’s attitude toward him changed almost instantly, and Gojo can still remember fighting tears when he realized his father no longer– or maybe even never– loved him. The way his father had strode into the room, watching from the doorway as Gojo had wriggled and cried out in pain at his first heat, his voice horse from begging someone to hold him, to help him. The way his once attentive maids and nannies had all stood against the wall, watching in silence. The sound of his father’s disappointed “tsk” and the way he’d walked out the door, followed by the staff, leaving Gojo alone. 

Gojo saw no one but one maid for six months after that, he was moved to a country home and forced to endure solitude. He grew more somber and depressed as the days went by. Not knowing what had happened to him, nor why he had been outcast. He had tried to speak to the maid, but when she opened her mouth, she’d shown him that she had no tongue– completely mute. Gojo gave up after that. 

Then one day, after those six months of solitude, his father had entered, followed closely by two men. Gojo had been excited, thinking his time in solitude had finally come to an end, but instead, when he reached out to touch his father, the man had just pulled back, hissing “Don’t touch me.” 

Gojo soon found out that the two men who had accompanied his father were a doctor and a tutor. He’d been held down as they pumped him with his first ever dose of suppressants, and then, his ‘alpha’ training started. Merciless days of being forced to resist Alpha pheromones, taught to walk and talk like an Alpha, drowning his natural instincts and desire. 

And he’d stayed that way, until he’d met a boy, and learned to love, and his natural instincts unfurled almost as if they’d just been waiting for permission. 

But just because he could be an Omega, just because he was one, didn’t mean his brain wasn’t weighed down by the guilt of lessons he’d been taught by the Gojo clan. The fear of being erased, of being hidden and known by no one still lived within him. He tried to forget, but it was always there, humming in the back of his brain. 

Geto was right, his father was gone, and Gojo couldn’t even curse him for lying all those years ago or for ingraining this deepset anxiety into him. For telling him it was wrong to be him. Wrong to live life in his body. 

But how does one stop decade-long Pavlovian instincts? 

He was afraid of being found out, of losing everything. And now he also has so much more to lose: power, money, influence, the comfortable life he’s created for his son.

And he has made a change, just as he wanted all those years ago. Gojo enterprises has major footholds in almost every major market in the world, and through a non-profit sister company Nanami helped Gojo establish five years ago, Gojo has created a program for kids, teens, and young adults who are kicked out of their families because of their second gender presentation. Who don’t have the access or funds to purchase the suppressants, and scent patches they need to be functioning members of society. The non-profit also offers psychiatric help for anyone who needs it– because God knew Gojo could have benefited from having some support in his youth. It also had specific therapy and support groups for Omegas, who were some of the most vulnerable to society. 

The non-profit was called, One And Only. 

Gojo was proud of it, he was able to help so many people because of his own self sacrifice, and while he wasn’t publicly involved with the non-profit, he was actively working behind the scenes to keep it going. So if he lost his position? If he lost Gojo Enterprises, who would keep it going? 

And why couldn’t Geto get that. Why couldn’t Geto be happy the way things were? They were so good. 

They were. 

Good. 

And Gojo knew they could be better. That if they continued as is, Geto could never publicly claim Gojo, could never mark him– because what Beta has a mating mark on his neck? But they would be together and wasn’t that better than nothing?

Wasn’t it?

It should be. 

Gojo spent those next three days bouncing between crying and missing Geto, constantly holding his phone as if he could make a text from Geto appear through sheer will. And when he wasn’t blubbering over his lost lover, Gojo was festering with angry tears that Geto would break up with him simply because he wasn’t ready to go public with their relationship– may never be ready, but still. In those moments his thumbs hovered over the keyboard, ready to send a scathing text to the man he loves. 

Of course he never does. 

He can’t bring himself to do it. The same way he can’t bring himself to text and beg for forgiveness, to promise he’ll change. 

He doesn’t want to lie.

And that’s where Gojo is now, on the third day of his pity party, his finger poking at his phone screen, turning it on again and again, only to find no new notifications. Distantly, he hears the elevator sound, and the nanny (Gojo thinks her name is Maki but honestly he can’t be bothered to remember) shouts out, “Hey yo! Gojo-san, three more of your boxes have been delivered, this one’s from ‘Smeg’...?”

Oh yeah. He’d also been indulging in some serious retail therapy. He’s not sure when he’d use an ice cream maker but why shouldn’t he have one? There was also a mini fridge and another coffee machine. 

They were limited edition, sue him. 

“Anyway, I put away the groceries you asked me to pick up, I’m heading out, see ya tomorrow.” 

With that, the familiar ding of the elevator echoed through the apartment, followed by the creaking of his bedroom door. Megumi was standing in the frame, his face pouting, and Gojo knows he probably looks awful, his eyes red and almost swollen shut, his hair wild and probably a little greasy, but he smiles softly all the same and lifts the corner of the covers up. Megumi needs no further invitation and scrambles onto the bed and under the covers next to Gojo, resting his head against Gojo’s shoulder. 

Gojo holds him close, tucks them both in, and picks up his computer from where it was laying next to him. He opens it up and pulls up an episode of pokemon. 

“How was school?”

“Talk in the other direction, your breath stinks,” Megumi snuggles in closer despite his very mean statement. 

“Rude!” Gojo makes sure he says the word right in Megumi’s face.

“I mean it!” Little hands come up and shove at his face as Megumi tries to wriggle away from Gojo. A little shriek sounds as Gojo blows air in his son's direction and he can’t help but laugh, changing tactics from annoying to hugging his son so tightly it was almost like he was in a straitjacket. 

He presses a kiss to the top of his head and lets himself release soothing happy pheromones, content to just have his baby in his arms.  

Feeling the fight leave Megumi’s body, Gojo loosens his hold and asks again, making sure to angle his face away this time, “So, how was school?” 

What he doesn’t ask is how is Geto? 

“Good. Yuuji invited me to go to his house over the weekend.”  An unspoken question.

Gojo hums, “Do you want to go?”  Now Gojo wasn’t a helicopter parent, he was too busy for that, but he also wasn’t not a helicopter parent. Before Nanako and Mimiko, Megumi had never gone over to a friend's house, Gojo was too nervous that the parents would be using Megumi to get to him or that something would happen to Megumi. But everything had been so shit lately, and he’d been so sad, but that didn’t mean his darling six year old had to be sad too. 

A soft nod is the only communication Megumi offers. Gojo rubs his son’s back in soft circles, the sound of the cartoon playing in the background from wherever his laptop had fallen during their playfight. 

“Okay then, you can go, but I’m going to have your nanny escort you to and from the playdate, that’s the deal.”

“Okay.” Then after a moment, “How was work?” Gojo’s hand pauses for a second from where it’s rubbing his son’s back, then it resumes again. 

“It was good.” A lie. He hadn’t been working, instead, using his sick days, claiming severe food poisoning. Better to let their imaginations go wild. 

After that, it’s quiet between the two of them. Gojo just listens to the combined sounds of pokemon and his son's breaths, feeling calm and surprised to find his thoughts not wandering toward Geto. 

It’s nice. 

Gojo doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but what he does know is that when he wakes up the sun has set, Megumi is no longer in the bed with him, and the fire alarm is blaring.

***

Gojo’s heart is jumping out of his chest, he can feel his pulse vibrating through his entire body in a way that makes him wonder how he’s able to even take the steps from his room to the kitchen, eyes constantly roaming and hunting for his son. 

Why is the fire alarm going off?

It’s hard to swallow when your throat is constricting your breaths with panic.

When he nears the kitchen, he sees dark smoke, and breaks into a full sprint. He can hear Megumi’s panicked tear-stricken voice, “I don’t know! I don’t know! Everything’s on fire! We’re gonna di–e.” 

The sound of his son’s hiccuped tears causes Gojo’s heart to almost stop in his chest. Everything was on fire??

Gojo finally turns the corner into the kitchen, and he almost has to pause to take in the sight. Smoke is coming from the oven, the kitchen counter is littered with ingredients, utensils, plastic wrap, and a cardboard box, and Megumi is standing off to the side, clutching Gojo’s phone to his ear, tears running down his cheeks as he tries to hiccup words to whoever is on the other side of the line. When Megumi looks up, his eyes widen and he almost starts crying even harder. 

But thankfully he doesn’t look hurt. 

The first thing Gojo does is run to the entryway to grab the fire extinguisher, all the while yelling at Megumi, “Go wait at the stairs! Now!” 

Megumi listens and runs to where the locked stairwell is located towards the back of the house, on the opposite end of the elevator and past Gojo’s room. All the while, Megumi continues to clutch the phone to his ear, narrating, “Dad told me to go to the stai–rs.”

Once Megumi is headed toward the stairwell, Gojo opens the oven, to another plume of smoke, the fire alarm still shrill and droning in the background. Thankfully there doesn’t actually seem to be any fire, just smoke, so Gojo opens the oven door and runs to open the windows near the kitchen to air the apartment out. When the smoke from the oven clears up a little bit, Gojo can see that inside there is what was probably a frozen pizza, but where the plastic was taken off it, the cardboard underneath had been left. 

Gojo let out a hard breath through his nose. Megumi probably thought it was like a pizza stone or something you cooked the pizza on. 

God, why was the kid even cooking a pizza? Why hadn’t he woken Gojo up? 

Gojo puts down the fire extinguisher. 

Thankfully there was no fire, there probably was a tiny one originally, but it was quickly extinguished. Gojo turns the oven off and walks toward the front door where the phone connected to the front desk is located. 

He picks it up and dials *9, waiting until he hears it connect, “Gojo-sama, we’ve been trying to ring you. The fire department is already on the way, if you can proceed to exit your apart–” 

“No need, you can tell the fire department to turn around when they arrive, it was a false alarm.”

“Are you sure, Gojo-sama?”

“Yes yes, I’m sure, no worries. Please turn the fire alarm off when you can. Thank you.” With that Gojo hangs up the phone, placing his hand on the wall to steady himself, and taking a deep breath. 

He can feel the adrenaline leaking from his body, leaving his limbs feeling like limp noodles. The only thing he feels is the racing of his heart and it continues to pulse through his whole body. 

The alarm finally turns off and the place sounds so quiet, almost like a tomb. 

Straightening, Gojo rubs at his face, and walks back toward his bedroom to the stairwell entrance to find Megumi. 

He sees Megumi sitting on the floor, knees curled into his chest, gaze on the floor, phone still held to his ear, voice sounding through tears.

“The alarm stopped but I can’t hear anyth–ing. What if something ha–ppened to my dad and– it’s— all– my fault!”

“Megumi,” Gojo softly calls out as he crouches in front of his son, pushing his black hair away from his face. Megumi looks up and hiccups, Gojo wipes the tears from his face.

“Di–did I burn the house down?”

“No, no. It was just a little smoke, nothing serious. I took care of it.” Then, quieter, “Why didn’t you wake me up Megumi?”

No response. Gojo poked his son’s cheek. 

“You’re so sad, and you always look so–o tired. You were sl–eeping and I wanted to make you something to feel better and I didn’t want to bother you–u,” that ‘you’ spiraled into a new wave of tears and Gojo felt his already tired heart constrict some more. 

“Megumi…” Gojo tried not to let the hurt, almost whimpering tone lace his words, but he failed. “Of course you can wake me up, you never bother me.” His voice was soft as he brushed his hand through that mop of black hair, “I love hanging out with you.” 

It was quiet between them except for the sound of Megumi’s quivering breaths, until Gojo heard a crackled, “ Megumi, please put your dad on the phone. ” Gojo had almost forgotten that Megumi was still clutching Gojo’s cellphone to his ear. 

“Megumi…” Gojo started tentatively, “Who’s on the phone?” Gojo already knew the answer but he really wished he was wrong. 

“Uncle Nanami.”

Nope, fuck. He was right. 

For a second, Gojo contemplated ending the call then and there, but Nanami would just call back and call Gojo childish. And it’s not like he could run away to a foreign country, change his and Megumi’s names and live a whole new lifestyle just to avoid being berated by Nanami, right?

No, he couldn’t do that.

He couldn’t.

Sighing, Gojo nodded and took the phone from Megumi, the screen was wet from his tears and had a time stamp of 42:38 minutes, meaning Nanami had probably heard the whole disaster. 

“So he called you, huh?” Gojo sat on the floor, pressing his back against the wall across from Megumi so that they faced each other. He made a silly face at Megumi, rolling his eyes as if he wished he were anywhere but on the phone with Nanami (true) and was rewarded with a soft watery giggle. 

“For the record, when he called me, it was to just talk about how worried he was for you. He started going on about how sad you were and how you hadn’t showered in a while. I didn’t even know he was trying to cook food until he started panicking about the smoke. At which point I did tell him to wake you up.”

“That’s what you get for teaching him how to read.” 

“We both know reading isn’t the issue here.”

“Ah but it is a catalyst.” There was a sigh on the other side of the phone. 

“Anyway, I assume the house is not on fire?”

“Nah, just a little smoke. He tried to cook a pizza. It’s a good thing it got burned, it was a veggie supreme pie, bleh.” Gojo made a vomiting motion toward Megumi and smiled when he giggled again. The veggie pie was something Nanami had bought the last time he was here, and there was a reason they hadn’t eaten. 

“Gojo, what happened?” 

“Nothing, it was just some smoke, nothing airing out the place won’t fix.”

“Satoru.”

“Ooh kinky, first naming me like that, Kento. ” Gojo didn’t bother fighting the smile on his face when Nanami sighed again over the phone. 

“You drive me crazy sometimes.” This was mumbled almost as if to himself, “Gojo, why was Megumi so worried about you? What happened? Why haven’t you left your bed in four days?”

“Three days.” Silence. Gojo pulled at the material of his shirt– Geto’s shirt actually. “Suguru broke up with me.”

“What?” The question was much sharper than Nanami’s usual cadence.

“Mmhmm.”

“Why?”

“Why? That’s a good question, but I don’t really want to talk about it, Nanami,” Gojo could feel exhaustion pulling at his bones, “I have to feed the kid, I’ll call you later.”

“Gojo–” Gojo hung up the phone and sat there for a second before putting on a forced smile for Megumi, who’d been watching him. 

“What are you in the mood for? Real pizza or ramen?”

***

Within the next two hours, Nanami was on a flight bound for Tokyo.

***

Gojo woke up to the sound of crackling oil and chattering voices. His eyes felt glued shut by sleep and the salty remnants of his tears, he was also fully clutching a pillow and curled around it, which must have happened at one point during his sleep. 

Slowly and almost painfully as if his body needed oil in its joints (when did he get so old ?) Gojo got out of his bed and shuffled out of his room and toward the kitchen, pressing his hand against the hallway wall as if to hold himself up.

For the second time in 24 hours, Gojo was speechless by what he found in his kitchen. Megumi was sitting at the island, sketching in a notebook. And at the stove, pushing around what smelled like pork belly and eggs, was Nanami. 

In an apron. 

Nanami in an apron. Gojo half wished he had his phone on him to take a picture for future blackmail. 

Gojo watched from the hallway, as Nanami continued to push the food around the pan, listening to Megumi grumble “I didn’t know you were supposed to take the plate away.”

“It’s not your fault, Megumi. But you’re just a kid, you have to leave some things to the adults. You can cook all you want when you’re older.”

“I’m not a kid,” Megumi firmly stated. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a kid.” Nanami’s voice was soft, and he smiled at Megumi as he walked over to the rice cooker with three bowls in hand. “So in the future, wake your dad up and have him help you cook, surprisingly enough, he knows his way around a kitchen.”

Megumi nodded, “Yeah his pasta’s the best.” 

“Who do you think taught him how to make it?” Megumi lifted his head and looked at Nanami in an almost inquisitive awe. 

“Who?” 

Nanami just smiled, moving to plate the rolled omelet he was making, “I see you lurking there Gojo.” Gojo’s body stiffened at being caught. “Go take a shower, I can smell you from here.”

“We both know that’s a lie!” Gojo shouted from where he stood but he listened and walked back into his room. When he got under the hot spray of water Gojo felt he could finally relax, feeling the tension roll off of him. That and the grime he’d no doubt accumulated. 

When his fingers finally began pruning, Gojo took that as his signal to exit the shower. The bathroom was foggy and the mirror was covered in steam. He walked out of the bathroom and was hit with a wave of his own pheromones. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been releasing these past few days, too emotionally distraught to worry about taking suppressant or controlling himself. 

Getting dressed and walking out into the hall and the kitchen, he realized that the scent extended through the whole house. 

God he was going to have to open all the windows for at least a few hours and use the speciality air purifier he had. 

When he finally reached the kitchen, now dressed and clean, Megumi was nowhere to be seen and Nanami was sitting alone at the island, eating his food as he looked over something on his computer. 

“Where’s the kid?”

“He wanted to see you before leaving, but you were in the shower for nearly forty minutes, so Maki came to pick him up and take him to school.”

“Ah. That makes sense. My bad. He was probably a little upset that I didn’t see him off. I’ve been dropping him off and picking him up from school this entire year.”

“You’ve been leaving work at 3pm every day?”

“Yeah, it made the kid so happy you couldn’t imagine.”

A hum, then, “I could pick him up today if you want. My flight isn’t until early tomorrow morning. I was only able to empty my calendar for today, I have a few people flying into KL tomorrow just to meet me for One And Only, and I couldn’t reschedule.”

Gojo waved this off, “You’re important, I get it, no need to show off.” Nanami just looked at him with a bored-tired expression, “And yeah, the kid would love it if you picked him up. Thanks, I just… I don't think I can bring myself to go right now. Not when I’m not my normal gorgeous self.” 

Gojo tried to play this last part off with a pained laugh, but it was too weak to sound anything other than pathetic. The sympathetic look Nanami gave him was the worst and Gojo found himself looking away, reaching for the food that had been set out for him and shoving a few bites into his mouth. 

The next thing that came out of Nanami’s mouth was so soft, as if Gojo were a crying child, “Gojo, what happened?”

“Nothing,” Gojo smiled through a mouth full of food, but he felt his nose sting slightly with tears. 

“Gojo.” The soft voice asked again.

“Jeez, you and your prying! Fine, fine.” Gojo tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, the food he’d shoved in half hazardously slowly and painfully making its way down his throat. “Suguru broke up with me.”

“You said that already.”

Gojo hated the annoyed whine that left his throat, and the pained pheromones that escaped him. In a way, he hated Geto too for turning him into this sad dribbling sobbing mess. He never cried as much as when Geto came into his life. 

But he also loved him so much it hurt. Loved the way his voice seemed to curl like smoke around Gojo’s name. Loved the way he didn’t care about societal rules and wore his hair long and his ears stretched. Loved the way he was so openly capable of love. Loved the muted almost quiet way he expressed himself. Loved the way he could read Gojo like a book. 

Oh god, Gojo felt a tear run down his face and he angrily wiped it away. 

When he spoke his voice was a whisper and it cracked, “Do you remember how I told you Geto decided to break things off because my father offered him a place at Tokyo University?”

Nanami nodded, watching Gojo, turning his body to fully face the quivering man. 

Words felt like pushing air through a clogged tube. “Well, that actually never happened. My father lied to me, he’d never offered Geto help getting into university in exchange for abandoning me. In fact, he’d done the opposite.” 

Gojo’s mind flashed to a weekend shortly after Geto had unveiled the truth, when Gojo had snuck into his father’s old study at his old childhood home in Tokyo. The whole week after Geto had told him about not getting into university, there had been a bad taste in Gojo’s mouth. He hadn’t known what he’d be looking for, just assuming that he’d know it when he saw it, and that’s exactly what happened. In a box of old files from the early 2000s of personal notes and receipts, Gojo found a stack of letters, each addressed to a major university across Asia, and even some in America. Each letter was the same, asking that if they received an application from one Geto Suguru, to decline it. 

That’s how Gojo found out his father had blacklisted the love of his life. 

More tears escaped Gojo and he struggled to get the next words out, “Geto had actually tried to find me in America. He’d tried so hard, and I did nothing.” A choked sob left him and suddenly he felt like his son crying over a botched frozen pizza. 

“Well, that makes more sense than Geto abandoning you. I always thought it was weird that he left you like that.” Nanami reached over and gently covered one of Gojo’s hands with his own, squeezing lightly, just like Gojo always did to comfort Megumi and that nearly broke him (okay he was already pretty broken but he could always fall to new lows). 

“Mmm, you’d be smarter than me. I never really questioned it. Not surprised that someone would leave me.” A watery smile.

“You know that’s not true, Gojo. You’re just trying to hurt yourself.”

“Anyway,” Gojo took a deep breath as if he was heaving, changing the subject, “why he actually broke up with me was because he said I’m so focused on hiding being an Omega that I’ll essentially never live a real life.”

Silence.

“Nanami?” Gojo looked up at his friend who was looking anywhere but Gojo, “You’re supposed to take my side! You’re supposed to say that’s crazy, Gojo, I can’t believe he said that crazy thing to you !”

Nanami tsk-ed softly and looked down before looking up at Gojo. Gojo whose cheeks were pink, had tear stains down his cheeks and whose hair was still wet and plastered against his forehead. Bright sad blue eyes looking into Nanami’s.

“I am on your side. Don’t say stupid things just for the dramatics of it, but,” A hand squeeze again and Gojo pulled his hand back, not wanting the comfort. Nanami looked to the side and sighed before looking forward again. 

“But, there is some truth there. Listen, you have every right to live your life however you want if you’re happy. If that were the case then I wouldn’t be saying anything, but that’s not the case. 

“The happiest I’ve ever seen you, Gojo, was when you decided to follow through with the pregnancy, to be a parent to Megumi in all the ways you’re meant to be. When it was just the two of you and you would openly allow yourself to purr and scent him and calm him down.

“The second circumstance in which I see you at your happiest is when we work at One And Only together and you help all those kids, all those young Omegas, learn to love themselves and be who they’re meant to be without the stress of their families or need of survival. I don’t think you ever gave yourself that same kindness.

“And the final circumstance under which I saw you at your happiest was when you were with Geto, because he let you be you .”

Gojo didn’t respond, didn't know how to respond. He had to think about it. Was that true? He definitely wasn’t happy at work, or when he was with his family, or when he was at college (outside of the freedom he had), or when he went on any of the blind dates his parents had made him go on. 

There was always that undertone of stress, something wound so tight inside him, burning at his chest and churching his stomach. Even alone, if he was out, that familiar tension coiled inside him. 

The only time he felt calm was at home. With Megumi. With Nanami. 

With Geto. 

In Geto’s kitchen, arms wrapped around that thick waist as the man cooked. In his living room, curled up with all the kids between them. Stealing soft kisses when they could. Catching up on each other's days, on the days they’d missed, together.

Oh great, he was crying again.

“But, if I were to be myself, if I stopped pretending, what would I do? What would happen to One And Only? What would happen to Megumi? I can’t be an Omega and the CEO!”

“And who told you that?”

“What?”

“Who told you that if people knew you were an Omega you couldn’t be CEO of Gojo Enterprises?”

Gojo was dumbfounded for a minute, not sure why Nanami was asking such a stupidly obvious question. “My father?”

“But that’s it? You never bothered looking it up? Double checking?”

“What? Why would I?”

“This is why you are so dumb sometimes, Gojo.”

“Why are you insulting me now?”

Nanami just turned away from Gojo and started typing on his computer.

“Hey! Are you ignoring me now after calling me dumb?”

“You know there are laws that protect against secondary gender discrimination.”

It wasn’t a question but Gojo answered anyway, “Yes.”

Nanami proudly nodded, as if there was a possibility Gojo might not know that. “It took me a while to find it, certain things are only available to people above a certain pay grade, but two years ago I managed to find the master list of company rules and regulations signed and dated by your father and the Gojo lawyers. The date was signed a few months before your father died, making it the most up-to-date version.”

“And?”

Nanami turned his laptop toward Gojo, showing a PDF with a highlighted phrase: Gojo Enterprises will not discriminate against employees based on their secondary gender . 

“Gojo, they can’t discriminate against you because you’re an Omega. The law was passed in Japan five years ago and they gave all companies a grace period to update their documents to reflect it. I wasn’t sure if your father would do it, being as hard headed as he was, but the law is the law and even the Gojo Clan can’t control the whole world, and Japan doesn’t want to be left behind. If the only thing holding you back from being you is wanting to hold onto the company, then, there’s nothing holding you back.”

Gojo felt his mouth open and close, speechless, until his voice finally found itself. It came out in a soft whisper, one of disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You always insisted you were happy with your life as it was. But I was ready for the day you finally realized you wanted a better life. One both you and Megumi deserve.”

Gojo knew he was disgusting, that he probably had snot running down his nose, and he knew Nanami wasn’t a fan of hugs (from him at least), but that didn’t stop himself from launching forward and wrapping his arms around Nanami. 

Nanami’s arms were frozen out to the side, and after a moment’s hesitation, Nanami hugged Gojo back, awkwardly patting him on the back.

Gojo was so lucky to have found people in his life to make up his new family, ones who actually cared about him . 

Now, he just needed to ensure that luck held out until he got his man back. 

***

Nanami Kento was at Komodo Elementary at 3:10pm on the dot, five minutes before the kids were due to be let out of the school. He checked his watch again, before reaching up and loosening his tie, already dreading his flight in the morning. 

He wasn’t normally impulsive, but even now, knowing he had a meeting he couldn’t miss tomorrow, Nanami weighed the idea of staying another day with Gojo and Megumi. He didn’t get to see those two as often as he’d like, but the headquarters of their non-profit One And Only was located in Malaysia, and it was his responsibility to care for that company, as Gojo cared for his. 

While in his mind, Gojo was always going to be that wild, scared kid he’d known in High School and that he’d met again in college, Nanami was rational enough to recognize that he’d grown into a loving, nurturing adult who was kind to everyone but himself. 

He sighed. 

He needed to stop babying that man. Gojo was capable of taking care of himself and Megumi– most of the time. They didn’t need him. But it was hard for Nanami to shake the feeling that he needed to watch out for those two, the same way he felt protective of his own blood-related family. Maybe it was because for the first few years of Megumi’s life, before Nanami moved to Malaysia, the three of them were constantly together. Back when Gojo had been a clueless adult who didn’t even know how to cook or do laundry– the payoff of being a wealthy heir. 

He checked his watch again, 3:14pm.

Gojo was good. He’d be good. He was strong. He just needed to mend things with Geto as well as with himself. Something Nanami believes therapists call ‘healing your inner child.’ 

A bell rang and the sound of loud chattering children filled the space. Nanami looked up and was met with the sight of tiny humans, ranging ages four to ten, walking out in pairs and groups looking for their respective caretakers. 

Nanami stood slightly off to the side, keeping his eyes peeled for his own rugrat– his godson.

He watched as various teachers shuttled the kids, trying to keep some order to the wild chaos that was children. 

As his eyes roamed over everyone, Nanami finally caught sight of little Megumi, who was talking to an adult, a teacher. The man was tall without being overbearing, wide without invading others’ space, his hair was long and half tied up and he had a soft kind yet sad smile as he spoke to Megumi. 

Geto Suguru.

Meanwhile, Megumi was standing tall and moving in such a way that told Nanami he was probably angry. He was so like his father, that boy. Nanami took that as his signal to intervene. He gently wove through the stream of children, patting the small head of anyone he accidentally bumped into, until he was standing right behind Megumi. 

He rested his hand on his godson’s shoulder and looked down at the man crouched in front of them, “Geto-san, how are you? I heard from Haibara that you had found a good job in Tokyo and had settled down with your daughters.”

Geto looked up and gave Nanami that same sad smile he’d seen before, then stood up to his full height which was just slightly taller than Nanami. He was also broader than Nanami. He’d always been a bit bigger than his peers but Nanami guessed that now that he was an Alpha, those hormones had just increased everything. Geto’s scent was incredibly faint, but there nonetheless. Definitely an Alpha, just like Gojo has been saying. 

“Nanami, I’m good. Haibara tells you everything, huh?”

“Is that so surprising? You know the man.”

Geto huffed out a small laugh, “No, you’re right. I heard that you’ve moved to Malaysia. Do you like the warm weather?” Geto looked over Nanami. Outside of the photos Haibara showed him when they got together routinely, he hadn’t seen the man since he’d graduated High School. In his mind Nanami was still a brooding, emo teen. Clearly not the case anymore. 

Something else he’d missed out on back then, as a Beta, was the scent of Nanami’s very clearly Alpha pheromones. They were faint but smelled undeniably like a soft, aged whiskey, and tangled between them was the intense scent of a certain Omega’s pheromones.

Geto felt his heart tighten. The scent of sweet flowers and warm laundry invaded his senses. He only just realized Nanami was talking to him.

“—but yes the heat is quite enjoyable, honestly.”

“Mmm, that’s good to hear,” Geto found the energy to nod his head as he spoke. 

“What were you and Megumi talking about?” Nanami was looking Geto right in the eye, the question an obvious challenge.

“Nothing important,” Geto looked back, refusing to answer, and the two simply stood in silence, eyeing each other up. 

“Well, I asked Geto Sensei if I could do a sleepover with Mimiko and Nanako, and he said that wasn’t a good idea right now–”

“Megumi, you know that’s not–” Geto tried to intervene.

“– and I asked why? We’ve had a bunch of sleepovers before. But I said it had to be at my house because my dad was sad. Uncle Nanami, don’t you think Geto Sensei should come have a sleepover at my house too? It’s only fair, and it would cheer up my dad.”

“Clever as always, Megumi. But we can’t force people to do things they don’t want to, and we shouldn’t.” His eyes flicked to Geto’s as he said this, and he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but Geto felt guilty in that moment. 

But why should he? He was the right one here. No matter how much he loved Gojo– and he did, god he loved that idiot more than he should– he couldn’t always come second to Gojo’s need to prove himself to a world that didn’t care about him. 

Even if he managed to push past the anxieties and annoyances he had now, he knew they would just accumulate over time. That every time Gojo would shift to the side to put a foot’s distance between them, or would pull his hand from Geto’s when someone neared, or introduced Geto as a ‘friend,’ he knew all those things would build up into hate. 

That each day he would get more and more depressed, feelings only fueled by Gojo’s contact with other Alphas, one’s who would unknowingly scent him, not thinking twice about their pheromones around a Beta. And while Geto hated his Alphan instincts, hated the way they churned and soured inside him, demanding he take action, he couldn’t stop their effect nor influence. 

The same way Gojo couldn’t hide when all those suppressants and scent patches caused him fatigue from constantly trying to wrangle his natural pheromones. The way he couldn’t hide the sigh of relief he would release when he got home and finally removed those scent patches, looking relaxed in a way he didn’t outside. 

It wasn’t healthy to hide their relationship, for either of them. 

Geto had to be the responsible one here, for the better good. For them. 

They had to be role models for their children after all, and while Geto had made plenty of mistakes in the past, he didn’t want to do so in the future too.

“It’s not that simple,” Geto finally responded to Nanami and Megumi. “Satoru made his choice, I’m respecting it, and he needs to respect mine. It’s easy for him to call all the shots,” Geto added almost sourly. 

“Respect is important,” Nanami agrees, reaching down to grab Megumi’s hand, “but you shouldn’t be so harsh on Gojo, not when you weren’t there all those years to see him drowning under a smile, all for the sake of his son and what he’s deemed his responsibility.”

With that, Nanami tugged on Megumi’s hand and the two of them left, leaving Geto to stare after them as if Nanami hadn’t hinted at a deeper heartbreak. 

***

Nanami Kento left at 4am that morning.

Megumi was picked up by his nanny at 8am.

Gojo got out of bed at 10am. And you know something, for the first time in four days, he felt good. He was showered, his sheets were changed, his son hadn’t tried to burn down the house again, and he hadn’t cried himself to sleep. 

When Nanami had come home yesterday, smelling softly like his Suguru, sure Gojo had gotten a little sad, but Nanami had pulled him out of it, insisting that they should read through those rules and regulations and look into hiring Gojo his own PR team so that when he was ready to go public, he could. 

Gojo had listened as Nanami put on his very own business presentation and spent the following three hours talking to Gojo. And it was interesting… at first. But after hour two, Gojo was fighting the need to openly yawn just to indicate that Nanami should stop. At hour three, he did start yawning, going so far as to stretch his arms too. 

Nanami ignored it. 

Thank god his gorgeous, beautiful son saved him at hour four, saying he was hungry and that he specifically wanted Nanami’s food. 

Now, in the quiet of his apartment, Gojo opened his computer for the first time in four days, ignoring the emails that had built up in his inbox, instead opening the file Nanami had sent him. Gojo walked over to the living room, and sat on the couch, curling his legs under him. Then, he read the document all over again. 

If what Nanami had said was true, and knowing Nanami it was, then… 

Then. 

Then Gojo didn’t have to hide anymore. He could stop taking a ridiculous amount of suppressants, didn’t have to wear scent patches everyday, didn't have to pretend that Alpha pheromones don’t bother him. 

He also didn’t have to shy away from the man he loves. He could openly hold his hand. Lean on him. Call all three kids ‘theirs.’ They could mark each other and tell the world this was it for them. 

Gojo’s chest tightened, his stomach flipped, his pheromones pushed into the space, and it felt so good. Gojo fought the urge to roll on the coach and scent the whole thing. 

But no, he should be an adult. He still needed to read the PDF Nanami had sent which detailed the new anti-discrimination laws across multiple countries. And it was exactly like Nanami said, countries like America, Denmark, UK, France, Singapore, Japan, Canada were all passing laws that made it a crime to discriminate against an Omega in the workplace, simply because they were child-bearers and -rearers. 

Of course this didn’t solve all problems. This didn’t mean Omegas couldn’t be subtly discriminated against, workplaces would still just blame the individual’s attitude or work ethic. The Omegas also needed to speak up if they were discriminated against on a manager-employee level, and many people didn’t have the confidence for that yet. There was also the cost of a lawyer if an Omega needed to fight their company for discrimination. 

Gojo needed to talk with Nanami about adding a motley of pro-bono lawyers to One And Only’s repertoire to help Omegas fight against discrimination. 

At this point, Gojo was buzzing with excitement. He opened up the website of the PR company Nanami had found for him, and forwarded it to his secretary so that she could set up a meeting for him. 

He didn’t know if he was ready yet, he still needed to ensure he and Megumi would be safe from the onslaught of paparazzi and media interest when the news leaked, but he was getting there. 

He was getting there. 

Smiling, Gojo checked the time, and somehow it was already 3pm. If Gojo rushed, he could still pick up Megumi from school! The idea was enough to make Gojo jump up and get dressed in something that wasn’t shorts and Geto’s t-shirt. 

Dressed in some wide high-waisted jeans, a tucked in Gucci t-shirt, his new combat boots (thank you retail therapy), and a trench coat, Gojo took the elevator and ran to his car, driving as fast as he legally could– no need to get a speeding ticket and risk the media using that in the future to claim that ‘all Omegas are bad drivers.’ 

It was already 3:15pm, but Gojo had texted the nanny to not bother with pick up today, and he couldn’t exactly text Geto, but he was only going to be ten minutes late, so Megumi could wait a tiny bit. 

Geto was a good guy, he would probably keep Megumi company in the meantime. The thought made Gojo vibrate with excitement, maybe he would even be able to see Geto, maybe they could talk. 

Makeup. Hold hands. Kiss. Cuddle. Move in together. Get married. Grow old together.

Maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

That didn’t stop Gojo from humming as he parked his car and walked into the courtyard of the school at exactly 3:30pm. 

He was a little late. 

That was okay, Megumi was going to be so surprised when he saw Gojo. Just the thought caused a smile curl on his lips, making his cheeks hurt.

When Gojo reached the courtyard there were a few children, including Megumi’s friend Yuuji and his brother, and three chatting nannies. Gojo looked around. 

He looked around again. 

He walked around the corner to the vending machines.

Looked around the other corner that was just an empty lot. 

Walked back to the parking lot.

Quickly walked back to the courtyard, looking around.

Dashed into the entryway where the kids leave their shoes and jackets. Dashed around and around until he saw the name ‘Megumi.’

Empty. 

What the fuck.

What the actual fuck. 

Gojo dashed back outside and tried to not accost a child. He runs up to Yuuji, crouches in front of him and grabs both of his shoulders. 

“Hey!” Yuuji’s black-haired brother, Gojo distantly recalled his name was Choso, calls out.

“Yuuji! Yuuji,” Gojo tries to soften the frantic way he’s talking, “help me out buddy, have you seen Megumi?”

“Yeah.” Yuuji smiled and gave a thumbs up, somehow oblivious to Gojo’s frantic grip on him. 

“Okay great, where?” Gojo had to consciously make an effort to loosen his grip on the kid. 

“Where?” Yuuji looked down and furrowed his brow like he seriously had to think. Was it illegal to shake someone else’s kid? Did that count as assault?

“Satoru?” A velvety voice called out behind him, but Gojo’s patience was so frayed that he couldn’t even acknowledge it. Couldn’t even acknowledge the fact that panicked, scared, anxious, sour pheromones were escaping him. All he could do was wait. Wait for this pink-haired child to think. 

“Oh yeah! He left with the big guy.”

“The big guy?” Gojo asked. How vague could this kid be!

Choso must have seen how close Gojo was to throttling Yuuji because he stepped in, putting a hand on Gojo’s wrist, prying it off his brother’s shoulder. “Megumi left with some buff guy. He had black hair, was wearing sweatpants, and had a scar on his mouth. He was waiting by the vending machine, asked Megumi to buy him a drink and then said you asked him to pick up Megumi and bring him home so you could all hang out.”

Gojo had stopped listening after Choso mentioned the scar. His body was cold. His breath had stopped. He felt like he was about to throw up. Gojo stood up, letting go of Yuuji, and quickly walked toward the parking lot. 

Where could he be? Where would Toji have taken him? 

Fuck. 

His breaths were sawing through his lungs and his vision was spotty. He tripped over the curb when he got to it, and prepared to fall, too panicked to even process what was happening or to try and catch himself, when a hand wrapped around his bicep and pulled him up. 

“Satoru?” Another hand grabbed his other arm and held him up, shook him slightly as his eyes tried to focus. When that didn’t work, the arms pulled him into a tight hug, pressing his nose against pheromone glands. Gojo took a deep breath. A hand held his head steady, held his nose to those barely there smokey, woodsy pheromones that Gojo loved. His arms came around and clung onto shoulders as if they were his lifeline. Fingers dug into his hair. Gojo just focused on breathing. 

“Satoru? What happened?”

It took another moment for Gojo to calm, for his heart rate to slow to a reasonable pace, and his breathing to even. When he realized where he was, what he had been doing, Gojo pushed out of Geto’s arms. Looked down into that serious, caring gaze. 

And turned to walk back to his car. 

He needed to find his son. That was the only thing that mattered right now. If anything happened to Megumi– his breath hitched. 

“Satoru!” Gojo turned only enough to look at Geto, still standing on the curb, a few feet away. 

“Megumi is missing, Toji’s taken him,” is all he said. Gojo watched Geto take in the information, watched the way his eyebrows rose and then fell from a concerned to determined look. He watched lips pressed together, jaw set. 

“I’m coming with you,” Geto finally bit out, walking toward Gojo. 

“Suguru–”

“We’re finding the kid,” Geto walked past Gojo, walking until he reached his own car. He unlocked it, the beep of it unlocking echoing across the lot. Then he looked back pointedly at Gojo, with a look that said I’m not getting left behind and are you coming or not?

Gojo stood there for a second. Unable to speak through the lump in his throat, in the end he just nodded and ran over to his own car. 

They were going to find Megumi. 

Together. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Gojo was sitting in his car, staring ahead at nothing, wondering what the fuck he was doing. His hands were gripping the wheel at ten and two, holding on so tightly his knuckles were white. How was he supposed to know where Megumi was? Where Toji took him? Tokyo was a city of nearly thirteen million, and that’s if Toji hadn’t already left it.

Gojo let his eyes shift to the digital clock on the center console. It was almost 4pm, which meant Toji had had almost an hour head start.

Fuck. Gojo bit his lip to stop the way it trembled. What was he going to do? 

Now alone, without Geto to center him, Gojo could feel his breath sawing in and out of his lungs, his throat beginning to close. His grip on the wheel tightened even more to stave off the growing tremors, to the point that he could feel the leather squeak under his grip. 

His thoughts spiraled. 

He was stupid, irresponsible, far too cocky. He was an awful, horrible, useless parent. His father had been right all those years ago when he’d said Gojo was fooling himself into thinking he could raise a child. Why– why – hadn’t he ever thought to check in on Toji all these years? To see what the man was up to. To double check that he wasn’t planning anything nefarious. 

Was he truly so stupid to think that Toji would forget him, wouldn’t recognize him in the hundreds of tabloids he’s in year-round. 

Gojo slammed his hand against the wheel, cursing. 

He slammed it again, and again, and again. 

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

He’d been so busy worrying about keeping his secret, keeping up a facade, that he’d never considered the fact that his secret was already out in the open. That someone he’d already written off could turn on him and take the choice out of his hand. 

Gojo was an idiot for thinking Toji would leave their night together exactly where he’d found it, in the shadows. Gojo had even said it himself way back then, in the tense silence of an elevator, spoken into a moment fogged by lust, right into those now familiar dark blue eyes: Some Alphas are possessive . 

Idiot. 

He was so– a phone was ringing. 

A phone was ringing?

The name Suguru was displayed on the car’s console. Gojo paused for a moment, trying to find himself from where he’d been lost in his thoughts, before reaching over to answer the call.

“Satoru?” There was that smooth, smokey voice again, curling around his name like it was something familiar, something precious. Gojo didn’t say anything, feeling a knot in his throat that made it almost impossible to speak. When the voice on the phone realized it’d have to pry some more, it spoke again, softly, “Satoru, talk to me please.”

When Gojo simply whimpered, the voice took a different route, “Baby, take a few deep breaths for me.”

Gojo listened to that voice, allowing his body to just go on autopilot, and took a few deep breaths. Then the voice asked again, “Okay?”

Gojo nodded, although no one could see him, then pushed his own voice through his tight throat, “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

He sounded broken. The voice on the phone didn’t care, letting out a sigh of relief. “That’s good, you’re doing great, sweetheart. Okay, now, baby, do you have any idea where Megumi might be?”

Gojo let out a whimpered “I don’t know.” 

Then another, “I don’t know .” 

Again, “ I don’t know. ” His voice growing increasingly panicked. 

The voice– Suguru, Gojo mentally corrects– hushes him. “It’s okay, it’s okay. How about we start with this, what do you know about Toji? Maybe that’ll help us figure out where they are.”

Gojo wracked his mind for any detail he could remember from a single night seven years ago, “Nothing? I– fuck– I barely knew him. All I knew was that he was an Alpha, an asshole… and broke? I mean, he even cornered me for money a few days ago.”

“What? When?” Geto’s voice was sharp and Gojo suddenly wished he’d bit his tongue and not mentioned that last part.

“On that day.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Geto demanded but Gojo didn’t answer. They both knew why. Eventually Geto filled in the silence, “Yeah… okay, yeah. So then, that’s a good thing, right? It means he’s somewhere cheap or free.”

“I guess?”

“Let’s do this. I’ve already called my mother to come pick up the girls, so I’ll check in the nearby vicinity– maybe they’re at a cafe or park– and you call the front desk at your apartment building, that cafe Megumi likes, and anywhere else Megumi could have taken him.” 

“You think he’d listen to a six-year-old?”

“Yuuji’s brother said that Toji lured him away under the guise that they were meeting up with you, so there’s a chance he’d ask Megumi where to go– especially if he was looking for something free.” It was a possibility, Gojo thought, although not a very likely one. Geto was probably just giving him the easier job because he’d so clearly been a second away from a panic attack earlier. 

“Okay,” Gojo finally answered. 

“Okay, good. You’re doing great, baby. We’ll find him, don’t worry. Now, call me if you see or hear anything, and don’t you dare try to deal with Toji alone, Satoru.” His name was spoken sternly, in warning.

“Okay,” Gojo repeated, but this time he actually felt it. They were going to find Megumi, they were. 

With that, Gojo ended the call and started dialing all of his and Megumi’s favorite places: the cafe, an arcade, the restaurant they always met Gojo’s mother at– which prompted Gojo to try and call the front desk at his mother’s apartment building, Gojo’s childhood home. When every call was met with the same, “Sorry, we haven’t seen your son at all today,” Gojo even became desperate enough to call the aquarium, remembering how Megumi still slept with both of the plush dolls they had bought there together. 

On that day that had felt like their first official family outing as a five-person unit. Probably their first and last five-person outing, Gojo thought pessimistically, his chin trembling again. 

When that call also proved fruitless, Gojo finally decided to try his apartment building. It felt unlikely that they would go there, Gojo didn’t think Toji even knew where he lived. Plus why would he go there if his goal was to kidnap Megumi?

The phone rang and when Gojo heard it click in connection, he started, “Hello, apologies for the odd question but have you seen Megumi at all today?”

“Gojo-sama? Yes, actually. He came in with a dark haired man about a half hour ago. I’m sorry, Gojo-sama, should I have called you?” The front desk concierge’s voice tinged in nervousness at having potentially fucked up. But Gojo could only focus on the fact that they were there , that Megumi wasn’t on some boat about to be sold to human traffickers or on a plane halfway across the world, but at home. 

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll be coming home shortly, just wanted to double check. Do me a favor, don’t let them know I’m coming, okay?” When his question was met with affirmation, Gojo hung up. 

This was good. This was progress. He had found them. 

Gojo steeled his spine and finally started the car, pulling out of the empty parking lot. First, he was going to ensure that his son was safe and that Toji hadn’t hurt or threatened him. Then, he was going to deal with Toji. 

It was time to close this door once and for all. Gojo was no longer going to ignore the Alpha the way he’d willfully done for the past seven years. Clearly, Toji would never stop unless Gojo stopped him, so that's exactly what he was going to do. 

Even if it hurt him.

As he pulled out onto the road, Gojo took out his phone and shot a quick text to Suguru before pocketing it again: Found him. At home. C u there. 

***

Gojo tapped his foot impatiently, watching the numbers on the elevator’s screen slowly increase as it climbed higher and higher. He had managed to make the thirty minute drive from the elementary school into a fifteen minute one, breaking god knows how many speeding laws. But because of that, the now slow, languid movement of the elevator, climbing the floors one by one, was enough to make Gojo want to drive his head into a wall. 

He needed to know what was happening. Was Megumi okay? Had Toji already broken the news that he was his father? Did Megumi hate Gojo for withholding that information all these years? Was Megumi hurt? 

Gojo wanted to hope that the Alpha’s instinct would ensure he wouldn’t hurt his own offspring, but at the end of the day Gojo didn’t really know the man, all he knew was that his own instincts were kicking into full gear with one goal: to protect Megumi.

Gojo’s phone rang, this was the third time since he’d gotten on the elevator. Without looking, he silenced it. He already knew who it was. 

Right after Gojo had texted Geto, he had shot Nanami a text too: Toji kidnapped Megumi. Don’t worry, I got it all taken care of :) 

Clearly the smiley hadn’t been enough to calm Nanami because he’d called Gojo right away, and when Gojo had sent it to voicemail, he’d received a text: Gojo, answer my call. This isn’t the time for one of your practical jokes. 

Another unanswered call. Another text. And so on, up until the moment the elevator doors opened into the apartment and Gojo was met with the sound of blaring rock music. 

He could call Nanami later, when everything worked out. 

Gojo put his hands in his pockets, and slouched his body slightly as if he didn’t care that his son’s father was in his home. He walked down the hall and entered the living room, where he saw Toji reclined on the couch, both arms hanging over the back of it and one ankle resting over the other knee– the picture of indifference. 

Megumi was nowhere to be seen.

“Looks like you’ve made yourself at home,” Gojo leaned against the entryway of the living room. 

“Hard not to in a place like this,” the man looks over at Gojo, smirking. 

“Where’s Megumi?” He maintained his bored tone. 

“Ah, yeah, the pup. He’s in his room. Got a TV in there and everything,” Toji let out a low whistle, “You really are fancy, princess.”

“With that watch I gave you, you can buy more than a TV or two for yourself. No need to ask me to share.”

“Why do you have to go and make it all about money, princess, who's to say I’m not here to spend some quality time with my son and bitch?”

“We both know that’s not even remotely true. What happened, you run out of people to con? Whatever sugar mommy you had got tired of you?” Gojo tried to make his mocking voice drip in saccharine, but his body was too tense to fully pull it off, despite the languid posturing. 

The entire room was overrun with the scent of Toji’s domineering pheromones, they infiltrated every nook, cranny, and fiber of the space, demanding that it be his and his alone. And despite himself, despite how much he currently hated the man, despite the way Gojo was almost never influenced by the scent of Alphan pheromones, he found himself drawn to Toji’s. And he hated it. Hated the way his body strode to smell and scent back the pheromones of his son’s father. 

So, Gojo stiffened and strained his body to remain still, to remain strong. Re-reminding himself that his entire goal was to protect Megumi, no matter what that entailed. 

That, paired with the memory of a hand holding his head against pheromone glands which flowed with a woodsy smoky scent, was enough to keep Gojo in his right mind and to remember who he was. What he had power over. 

“Sweet as always, Satoru. I think I remember telling you that I hate dealing with brats, so why don’t you be a good boy and behave.”

“That would require you telling me what you want.”

“Didn’t I already say? I want to be a family.”

“You’re full of shit.” Gojo spit out. And Toji was silent, the small condescending smile he’d had on his face falling. Gojo felt his body tense instinctually at the prospect of having upset the Alpha.

“You know,” Toji said, placing his hands on his knees and slowly using the momentum to stand up, “I pawned that watch off. Got a pretty dime for it too. And I thought to myself,” the coffee table still stood between them, and Toji moved to take a step around it, “If Gojo Satoru is so easily willing to part with that amount of money, how much could I get if I pushed, just a little. Seems like you’re willing to sacrifice a lot for the sake of a silly little story that you're an Omega making its way around the tabloids.” Another step. The press of pheromones becomes even stronger, trying to push Gojo into submission. 

Gojo held his ground, just barely. 

“What makes you think I’d give you any more money?” Gojo bites back. 

To be honest, coming out publicly as an Omega still paralyzed him in fear. He definitely still needed more time to get used to the idea, but now, knowing that it wasn’t so black and white, if a choice arose between publicly being an Omega or protecting his son, the answer was obvious. 

Gojo was no longer scared of what his future would look like, and so Toji couldn’t threaten him with this secret anymore. 

Gojo felt a bit braver knowing this, stood taller for it too. Toji simply smiled at the change of posture, “Oh? You want to play it tough, princess?” He took a few more steps forward, slowly like a predator stalking its prey, “I do remember that about you, how tough you pretended to be. Oh well,” Toji was crowding Gojo now and the Omega finally felt the need to put some space between them. 

Gojo took a step back, then another, walking backwards toward the hallway and kitchen. But for every step he took, regardless of how much taller he was, Toji seemed to eat up double the space, closing the distance between them. 

“If you’re going to be difficult, princess, I may just have to take what I want,” Toji’s voice was tired and stern, as if he were disciplining a troublesome child. He took another step forward until their chests brushed against each other. 

Gojo’s whole body recoiled at the touch, and in his panic to get away, Gojo took two quick steps back until his foot hit the edge of something– maybe a toy or some furniture, it didn’t matter, because in the next second he was tripping over and falling backwards. 

The fall took his breath away. Gojo felt his back thud against the hardwood floor, felt his head smack, and his tailbone flare in agony.

In the next moment, before Gojo could even get his hands under him to get back up, or to even take an opportunity to turn over and crawl away, Toji was on him. Pinning Gojo down; sitting on his torso and pinning his arms down under two thick thighs so that the only thing he could move was his head and legs, although both proved to be useless in this situation as he struggled pointlessly. 

Toji simply watched him struggle, rock music still playing in the background, and somewhere inside him, Gojo thanked god that at least Megumi wouldn’t hear any of this. 

One hand came to rest on the floor near Gojo’s head as Toji leaned over him, and Gojo took the opportunity to bite the wrist near his mouth. Even if it did nothing, even if there was no point, he wasn’t about to let some nobody Alpha subdue him like this. He may be an Omega, but he was still a Gojo, he was still him . He wasn’t the weakling, whore, idiot that his father always made him out to be. 

He wasn’t. He never was. Because he’d always fought against his father, he’d never succumbed to his expectations. And when he became a father to Megumi, that resolve only strengthened. He wasn’t weak. He was a role model for Megumi, even if the kid never said so, the endless handdrawn photos that Gojo had stacked in his desk drawer said otherwise. 

As Gojo’s mouth filled with the tang of iron, as he felt his nose scrunch in anger, and watched as a flash of pain flared on Toji’s face, Gojo finally felt some pieces click in place for him. He wasn’t weak because he was an Omega. He was strong because of it. Because of the person his second gender had made him. Because without it he wouldn’t be as caring or resilient, would just be another clone of the Gojo clan, afraid of losing power over all else, even his family. But Gojo knew now– had known– that his strength came from the people he loved, and that it made him all the better and that he was able to love like that because he was an Omega. 

He wasn’t weak. Or a slut. Or a whore. He was himself. He was the Gojo heir. He was Gojo Satoru, one of the strongest, most powerful men of the modern era. 

He sunk his teeth in deeper, and felt an answering hand come up to cup his jaw, applying pressure to both sides until his mouth was forcefully opened. Gojo felt the blood coat his lips and dribble down the side of his mouth. Suddenly, he felt the hand that held his jaw tighten before it angled his face up and to the side, unveiling his neck. 

He quietly gasped, air rapidly escaping his nose in shock.  

“Once a brat, always a brat. But don’t worry, I’ll train it out of you. You know,” he caressed Gojo’s cheek fondly and Gojo growled at him, trying to shake out of that hand’s grip, “I’ve always thought I’d make a great trophy husband. All it would take is a small bite, right… here,” Toji maintained his hold of Gojo’s jaw, leaving the entire neck vulnerable, as he brought his mouth down to lick at the scent gland located there. 

Fuck, this bastard was crazy.

Gojo took a deep breath, trying to slow the way his pheromones leaked out of him, soured with fear. He had to keep his head on straight and get out of here. Gojo started to kick his legs, trying to lift his hips and throw the man off him, but all that achieved was getting a low laugh out of Toji. 

“So desperate, are we?” Toji purred from where he kissed that gland. The sensation caused the hairs on Gojo’s neck to stand up. 

He wouldn’t– couldn’t – let Toji mark him. For one, he needed this crazy bastard out of his life and couldn’t risk being biologically tied to him for the rest of his days. The second reason… Well, he was still hoping to have another Alpha mark him one day– soon. 

If Toji had been looking at the Omega’s face he would have seen the way his eyes gleamed with resolve. While Toji was distracted, Gojo lifted his chin, turning it until Toji’s hold on him loosened slightly, and in that single moment of freedom before Toji had a chance to pin Gojo back down and bite him for real, Gojo opened his mouth and closed his teeth around the ear in front of him. Biting until he heard the man curse. 

If his mouth didn’t already taste of iron, it would now. 

Once he was able to pull out of Gojo’s reach, Toji put a hand to his ear and when he pulled it away to find blood on his fingers, he fumed. He grabbed Gojo by the jaw again, placing his other hand at the base of Gojo’s throat, cutting off his air supply. “Well, I guess we’re done playing nice.”

Gojo felt himself wheezing, felt his throat convulse as it tried to draw in air. He saw Toji coming in closer, felt the man tighten his grip on Gojo further, felt a drop of blood hit his cheek from that mangled ear, and decided that no matter what he wouldn’t let Toji have any control over his life, even if it meant killing him as soon as he finished marking Gojo. 

No matter what, Gojo wouldn’t be weak. He was happy with who he was, finally, and he wouldn’t let Toji take that away. 

Closing his eyes, Gojo prepared for the pain. Prepared for the feeling of his flesh being torn into, and the connection between Alpha and Omega to be solidified the way he’d only read about in books and seen in movies. 

He felt the graze of teeth on his neck and then–

And then nothing. 

Gojo hesitantly opened one eye, and when he saw where Toji was, both eyes snapped wide open. 

The Alpha was on the floor a few feet away from him, and holding him down, fist slamming into his face and causing a wet thwack-thwack noise to echo through the space, joining the symphony of still playing rock music, was Geto. 

***

When Geto had received the text from Gojo saying he was headed to his apartment, the Alpha had been walking up and down a street littered with cafes and gambling bars located near the school. He’d already been to two parks at that point and driven past a handful of cafes. This had been one of his last ideas to find Toji and Megumi, so when he’d seen the text that Gojo had found them, he’d felt relieved, that was, until he saw the following sentence: C u there. 

The tension that had just left his body returned twofold. Hadn’t he told Gojo not to do anything reckless like dealing with Toji on his own? The man was an Alpha, and although Geto hated it, he was an Alpha too, which meant he knew what those powerful, intense instincts felt like when they demanded to make something yours. The overwhelming need to lick, bite, and breed it.

And if Geto felt that way, with no claim over this particular Omega, he could only imagine how an Alpha who had actually bred him would feel. Especially if it was an Alpha who seemed to have no moral compass. 

Geto’s heart stuttered at the thought. He needed to get to Gojo, now. 

The entire drive to the apartment complex was anxiety-ridden. Geto had spent the twenty or so minutes tapping his fingers on the wheel, readily laying on the horn whenever someone slowed even slightly below the speed limit. 

When he finally made it to the apartment complex, he almost snarled at the concierge who demanded to know where he was going and who insisted on calling up to check with ‘Gojo-sama’ to see if he was expecting a ‘Geto-san.’When the phone call went unanswered even after the concierge tried twice, Geto felt his blood run cold.

“I need to get upstairs now. ”

“I’m sorry, sir, but it’s building policy that you need to have permission from a resident–”

“Listen to me, your Gojo-sama is in danger right now, and either you can let me up to help him or you can risk a huge lawsuit on your hands when it happens on your watch.” There must have been a manic gleam to Geto’s eyes, one that said a lawsuit was the least of the man’s worries if Geto couldn’t get upstairs right away. The man had swallowed, eyeing up the clearly agitated and angry Alpha in front of him, and, deciding to look out for his own life, gave Geto a temporary key card to access the private elevator. 

Once upstairs, Geto had walked right into the apartment and felt the hairs on his neck stand up. There was loud rock music playing, the distant sound of a man talking, a whimper, a growl, the dominating scent of an Alpha, and the sweet smell of his Satoru’s pheromones. 

Geto couldn’t mistake that sweet, clean scent for anything else. But it was the sour undertone of fear and the smell of blood that made Geto tense and dash forward. 

When he saw Toji positioned over Gojo, holding the Omega down, holding his face at a hard angle, and flashing his own teeth near Gojo’s neck– it made Geto see red. Without thinking, Geto ran forward, grabbed Toji by the back of his shirt, yanked him off and threw him onto the ground a few feet away. 

Before Toji even had a chance to comprehend what the fuck had happened, Geto was over him and launching fist after fist into his face. 

His eyes were almost black with the adrenaline coursing through his body, with the instincts demanding he punish whoever dared and try to hurt his Omega. 

Geto couldn’t even think, couldn’t even care that he was acting like an animal, that his instincts had overtaken his sense of self. All he cared about was destroying the man under him, and if the instincts also wanted that, helped him do it better, then so be it. They could be on the same side for once. 

Gojo watched on from the side in shock. He was half sitting up now, his arms supporting him, as he heard the sound of fist meeting wet flesh echo through the space. As he saw Geto lean forward and rip a chunk of flesh out of Toji’s shoulder with his teeth. As he smelled the angry, tense, protective pheromones that leaked into the space as if they wanted to bleach Toji’s scent away. 

He shouldn’t, but Gojo found them oddly soothing, watching on in awe as his Alpha fought to protect him. He could feel his own pheromones reach out to placate the Alpha, to let him know that he was okay. 

Toji, surprisingly, still had some fight in him, and even though his face was soaked in blood and a piece of his shoulder was missing, he threw a punch back at Geto, catching him off-balance slightly, before punching him again in the gut. 

Gojo watched, holding his breath, but before either could get the upper hand, the Omega heard the clatter of something falling to the ground, paired with a sharp gasp. Gojo’s neck snapped to the side, and standing at the entrance of the space, in the hallway, was Megumi, eyes wide as they bounced between Gojo’s blood soaked face and the two men beating each other up a few feet away. 

With no other thought than to protect his son, Gojo scrambled up, his legs almost collapsing under him, and ran over, pulling Megumi into a tight embrace and squishing his face into his chest so that the kid couldn’t see anything. Gojo turned them so Megumi was no longer visible, making it so Gojo’s back was to the scene. 

But instead of fighting him, like Gojo half expected him to, Megumi simply wrapped his arms around his dad and held on tightly. Gojo combed his hand through that wild black hair as if nothing else was going on around them. As if they couldn’t both hear the grunting and thump of punches landing. 

But all that didn’t matter, what did was that Megumi was safe. In the back of his mind, Gojo had known that Toji wouldn’t have done anything to Megumi, but believing it and seeing it are two different things. 

Feeling his son softly tremble in his arms, Gojo drew him in closer. How long had it been since Gojo had first gotten here? It couldn’t have been that long. The sun was still out and the space was still well lit with natural light. If he had to guess, it’d probably only been twenty or so minutes. Which meant…

“Gojo Satoru! Are you in there?” A voice called out from somewhere near the entryway. Neither Alpha had even noticed the voice, too busy making a bloody mess out of each other. 

“In here!” Gojo called out, turning his neck to watch as five men in black suits walked into the space. Gojo took a few steps back, increasing the distance between himself and the two fighting Alphas, before he twisted his body forward to better face the newcomers. When Megumi tried to follow suit and turn to see who the owner of the voice that had called for his dad was, Gojo simply tightened his grip on his son's head and body so that he could see nothing but Gojo’s shirt.

Gojo watched as the men walked in with military pristineness, never flinching at the onslaught of pheromones that filled the space. Watched as they pulled the two fighting Alphas apart, both of which snarled and reached for each other as if they hadn’t even acknowledged the presence of anyone else, only hardwired on the thought of killing the opponent in front of them. 

As far as injuries went, Toji definitely fared worse. While Geto was clearly favoring one side of his body and had a split lip, one of Toji’s eyes was swollen shut, half his face was soaked in blood and his left arm was hanging limp by his side. Both were roiling in pheromones. 

The five men were unfazed; two holding Geto, the other two holding Toji and the final one was looking at Gojo, awaiting instruction. 

Oh yes, Gojo might have forgotten to mention to anyone that while he was in the car, calling every cafe and place he could think of, he had also sent a text message. One to his personal security team. 

Now, while Gojo didn’t like having a bodyguard on him at all times, he was the Gojo heir after all, which meant he had to have an (expensive) professional personal security team. They were stationed near his job and his apartment, came with him when he went on trips abroad, and were on constant standby. 

As soon as Megumi had gone missing, he had texted them to be on red alert and to start combing through security cameras to find him. When Gojo had discovered that Megumi was at home, he had texted them again as he was in the elevator dodging Nanami’s call. He had told them to wait twenty to thirty minutes so that he could see if he could handle the issue calmly. 

Obviously, he’d failed.

Gojo stood a little straighter, putting on his Gojo heir/CEO/Beta persona (ignoring the way he was soaked in sour Omegan pheromones) and looked at the leader of the group, “The long-haired one is with me.” 

Nothing else was needed to be said, the leader nodded as two of the men slowly escorted Geto over to the living room and placed him on the couch. They tried to apply some first aid that they had on their person but Geto just waved them away. With a bow, the five men escorted Toji into the elevator and away. 

Gojo felt the coiled tension he’d been holding finally leave his body like a relieved sigh when those elevator doors closed and it was only the three of them in the apartment. 

He hugged Megumi tightly to him one more time before letting go and crouching in front of his son. Megumi was looking down at the ground, his lips pressed tightly together. All Gojo could think was that he shouldn’t have to see Geto (or Gojo) in this state, it would just make him worry more. 

Gojo ruffled his hair before taking his hand and squeezing it once. Megumi looked up from under his eyelashes at Gojo before squeezing back. Gojo sighed in relief. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Why– why are you sorry, Megumi?” Gojo had to stutter the sentence out because honestly it was the last thing he expected to hear. 

“That man came to school and said he was there to pick me up. I didn’t want to at first because I remember you were upset when he came to school last time. But then– then,” Megumi had to pause as a tear ran down his cheek, but he held any further sobs in, pressing his lips together to keep from crying. He looked up at Gojo with the biggest puppy eyes and Gojo couldn’t help the way his own eyes began to sting, “He said you were really sad at home and that you needed me to come take care of you, and that he was going to bring me here.”

Oh, that was a dirty trick. Using Megumi’s protective pup instincts against him like that. 

“It’s not your fault, Megumi. He was right, I was very sad and I did want to see you. Really bad.” When Megumi didn’t say anything, Gojo tilted his head down slightly to look up into his son’s little face, and when their eyes met, Gojo let a soft smile onto his lips, one that said ‘everything’s going to be okay.’ When Megumi saw that smile, he ran back into his dad’s arms and hugged him so hard it nearly threw Gojo off balance. Gojo simply laughed as he pressed his son’s face into his neck and soothingly pet that black hair. 

“Now, Megumi,” Gojo started as he continued to rake his fingers through his son’s hair, “do you think you can do me a favor?” A nod. “Good, take my phone and call Uncle Nanami. He’s really worried about you. And while you do that, I’m going to quickly take care of Suguru, okay? Can you do that for me?” Another small nod. Satisfied, Gojo pulled Megumi away slightly, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and handed over his phone, watching as Megumi walked toward Gojo’s room, stopping to look back once, before heading inside to call his uncle. 

Not wanting to give himself time to think, Gojo heaved himself up and walked over to the first aid kit he kept in Megumi’s bathroom, before walking back over to the living room where Geto sat on the couch, his head hanging over the back and his eyes closed as his fingers gently prodded at his side, hissing occasionally in pain when he touched somewhere tender. 

Gojo had just sat next to him on the couch, tucking one leg under himself, when Geto spoke, eyes still closed, “You know, from everything I’ve heard and seen, that kid’s probably an Alpha.”

Gojo hummed in agreement, bringing a gauze covered in ointment up to Geto’s split lip, “Probably.” 

Neither said anything after that. Gojo focused on treating the lip and wiping the blood from Geto’s face, reminiscent of a similar time when they were young, and Gojo had been filled with nervous energy as he’d tried to find the will to steal his first kiss. 

That moment seemed so far away now, almost as if it occurred in a past life. 

Gojo moved to patch up Geto’s split and bloody knuckles when the man flipped his hand so that it was holding Gojo’s instead. When Gojo looked up, Geto was already looking at him, “Are you okay?”

“Of course, I have my knight in shining armor to come to my rescue,” Gojo smiled at Geto, wanting so badly to pair the phrase with a teasing kiss on the bloody knuckles he held in his hand, but with all that had happened, Gojo had almost forgotten that they still had a fight hanging between them. That Geto had still asked to end things, and that Gojo hadn’t stopped him. 

That he hadn’t even had an opportunity yet to tell Geto about the life changing news Nanami had given him just yesterday. 

So instead, Gojo ran his thumb over the back of Geto’s hand and simply turned his teasing smile into a soft one, “I’m fine, honestly. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, even if it did almost take a turn for the worst. All I need is the people I care about to be okay.”

“And who’s making sure that you’re okay?” Geto was looking at him with such open tenderness on his face, an expression almost oxymoronic with the angry, tense, possessive pheromones that still clung to him. 

Gojo rubbed his thumb against Geto’s hand again, looking up at him shyly through silver lashes, “It could be you. You’ve always done a good job of it.”

“Not always,” a sigh. “I’m not the good person you think I am, Satoru.”

Shaking off the demure demeanor and lifting his chin, ensuring that Geto was looking at him properly as he spoke, Gojo said his next words with quiet confidence, “You are to me.”

The two stared at each other, both mentally acknowledging that the rock music which still hummed in the background was kinda ruining the mood. Gojo couldn’t help soft laughter that escaped him. 

Geto didn’t laugh, instead he took in Gojo’s smile, drawn to the sight as if he were watching a miracle of Mother Nature; like seeing the northern lights for the first time, or an animal that you'd only ever seen in books but now stands in front of you. 

He couldn’t help the words he whispered, “Come home with me.”

“What?” Gojo’s blue eyes seemed to almost go doe-like in surprise.

“Don’t let me leave you alone here, in this room, fixating on traumatizing memories. Come home with me, both you and Megumi. Let me take care of you.” Geto lifted a hand to Gojo’s cheek and caressed it. Waiting for his answer. 

And what else could Gojo say but, “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

It was almost surreal, sitting in late afternoon rush hour traffic as if nothing had happened. As if Gojo’s back didn’t still ache from where he’d fallen to the ground, as if he couldn’t still feel the warm heat of that Alpha’s breath against his neck– hot where his racing heartbeat pulsed below his skin. 

Images of the day flashed behind his closed eyelids, causing his skin to prickle and itch in phantom irritation, so much so that Gojo turned his eyes to the array of cars, trying hard not to blink. 

Instead, Gojo focused on what was happening now instead of what had happened then. He was currently sitting in the back seat of Geto’s car, a sleeping Megumi draped over his lap, small hands clutching his shirt as one of Gojo’s own hands raked through wild black hair while the other pressed firmly against his son’s back as a makeshift seatbelt, trying to save him from jostling too much. 

Megumi had fallen asleep almost as soon as they’d started driving, the events of the day clearly too much for the exhausted six-year-old, who had refused to let go of his dad from the moment they left the apartment to now, even in his sleep.  

It was quiet, as if no one wanted to break the peaceful aftermath. 

The only noise in the car belonged to the softly playing music, the muffled traffic, and the deep voice coming out of the phone currently sandwiched between Gojo’s ear and shoulder. 

“Did you really think having Megumi call me would get me off your back?” An exhausted, but no longer worried, voice asked over the phone.

“... yes?” 

To be honest, Gojo thought that once Nanami had learned that all was good and well, he’d let bygones be bygones and leave Gojo alone. Because, okay, sure, his son had been kidnapped, and he had almost been mated, and both of them would probably need a little therapy in the very near future– but it was all okay now. So, had Gojo expected Nanami to just leave him alone for today and allow for a proper catch-up in a few days? Yes, sue him. 

He definitely hadn’t expected Megumi to come back into the living room only fifteen minutes after being sent away, eyeing the way Gojo had been sitting next to Geto, their hands still clasped between them as Geto used gentle fingertips to brush away loose strands of white hair from Gojo’s face, before relaying that “Uncle Nanami says you need to call him back. ‘Today.’” 

It’s embarrassing to admit, but at that moment, Gojo had almost felt like a child waiting to be scolded by their parents, one who knew that they had done something wrong and thus couldn’t even justify not being scolded at. In this case, the wrong-doing had been ignoring Nanami’s calls and texts after relaying that Megumi had been kidnapped. 

Oops. 

So, maybe that hadn’t been the best move on his part, but he had been a little preoccupied. If it wasn’t for the fact that Gojo knew that this demand to speak to him soon and cutting the call with Megumi short was Nanami’s version of having a full-blown panic attack, he probably would have delayed the call another day or two just to make the serious Alpha sweat. But that would be mean, and Gojo wasn’t mean– okay, he was, but not always. 

He could have called right then when Megumi had first come into the living room to relay his message, but when Gojo had looked up into the dark, concerned eyes of the man across from him and then into the wide blue eyes of his son who still tentatively stood a few feet away with the phone clutched between his chubby kid fingers, Gojo had decided that he needed a few minutes to recover before he called Nanami. The anxiety and stress, the fight or flight instinct that had gripped his body so severely just a handful of minutes ago, were still slowly calming; the process sped along by the pheromones of the Alpha near him. 

So, instead of calling Nanami in that moment, Gojo had done something that satisfied and calmed his own jostled nerves; he had leaned his head into the hand that had been caressing his hair and cheeks and looked into Geto’s eyes before asking, “When are we going?”

Geto’s eyes had softened as he tucked a few more strands behind Gojo’s ear before bringing his hand down to lace their fingers together, “We could go now, if you want.”

Nodding, Gojo had set his feet properly on the ground, building the momentum to stand up, but just as his butt had lifted from the cushion, something pressed into his shoulder and shoved him back down. Gojo looked up in confusion at Geto, who was now standing, one hand pressed to Gojo’s shoulder, the other lifting their laced fingers to his mouth where he pressed a delicate kiss to the back of Gojo’s knuckles, “You stay here. You’re still tense, and your pheromones are still unstable. Just relax, I’ll take care of everything.” With that last statement, Geto had given him a soft smile, bringing Gojo’s hand up to his neck, scenting the Omega, keeping the two of them entangled like that until he had felt satisfied. 

With that, Geto had stood up fully from where he’d been half-bent over Gojo, walked over to the stereo, finally turning off that god-awful music, before he’d come back to stand by Megumi’s side, placing one palm on the boy’s shoulder to turn him in the direction of his room. Right before the duo left the living room, both boys had looked back at Gojo one last time, their expressions almost identical in how soft and caring they were, but before Gojo could get drawn in by those looks, could get up and offer to help with whatever Geto had planned, they were out the door, and Gojo was left awkwardly sitting on the couch, feeling like a stranger in his own home. 

Gojo never managed to get comfortable in the 20 minutes Geto and Megumi had left him alone. 

At one point, he found himself even wishing that he could call Nanami just to have something else to focus on besides the way his heartbeat still echoed loudly just under his skin or the way his body still ached. The way his pheromones still had a sour tang to them. 

His body involuntarily shivered at the ghost sensation of Toji’s tongue against his neck, lapping at his glands. He could almost feel the warm, wet feeling of that tongue, feel the hot breath brushing over wet skin as that cocky voice threatened him. 

Gojo felt his whole body itch at the sensation. And in the silence of the room, he couldn’t focus on anything else. Everything was a reminder. The half-drunk beer on the table he had only noticed now, the way the magazines on that same table were half thrown open and out of place, even the pillow behind Gojo was imprinted with the Alpha’s shape– and Gojo found himself sitting up straighter to avoid it. 

It was so frustrating, to the point that he almost felt like standing up and pacing the living room just to give the wild energy in his body somewhere to go instead of the churning way it accumulated in his stomach. 

When the phantom sensation against his neck almost started to feel like too much, when he started to feel overstimulated to the point of tears pricking his eyes and a need to claw out of his own skin, Gojo lifted a hand to rub his sweaty palms over the spot, as if rubbing vigorously enough at it will override the previous sensation. Except when he did, when his hand brushed past his jaw and touched his own neck, Gojo got a whiff of something soft, smokey, and warm. 

Gojo found himself turning his head slightly until his nose was pressed against his own wrist and took a tentative sniff. Then, a deeper one. Then he fully pressed his nose into the skin and closed his eyes until all he could see, think, and smell was that welcoming, gentle scent that seemed to engulf his brain like smoke, effectively shutting it off until he could no longer remember what phantom had been chasing him, why he had been so desperate to shed his skin, why he had been touching his neck in the first place. Instead, Gojo toppled over to lay on his side on that plush couch, clutching his wrist with one hand and pressing it into his face. 

Unaware of how much time passed like that, Gojo only opened his eyes again when a tentative hand pressed against his shoulder, gently stirring him back to consciousness. Staring down at him were those dark blue eyes he loved so much, set in a serious face that was still plump with baby fat. Gojo’s heart stirred sluggishly as if trying to drag him back into the calm state he had been in. Instead, Gojo dragged his eyes over his son’s face before they caught sight of something over his shoulder. Standing at the entrance of the living room, dressed in rumbled, blood-splattered clothing, was Geto. 

In each of his hands was a luggage, packed with Gojo and Megumi’s things, and in that moment Gojo realized that where he had assumed he would only be going to Geto’s home for a night, Geto was clearly prepared for a longer trip. 

Geto smiled softly and inclined his head toward the door before softly calling for Megumi to follow him. The boy, in turn, called for Gojo. And like that, the three of them– all probably looking a little worse for wear– walked toward the entryway to put their shoes and jackets on.  

When all was set and done, and the elevator had been called, Megumi tugged on Gojo’s shirt insistently until he lifted Megumi into his arms, huffing exaggeratedly as if Megumi weighed a few tons (and maybe it was only half-exaggerated because Megumi definitely wasn’t a toddler anymore). 

He wanted to teasingly call him a baby, asking to be carried by his dad like that, but the way those little hands clasped around Gojo’s neck, gripping tightly, kept the words firmly in his mouth. 

When the elevator dinged to announce its arrival, Geto simply put his hand on Gojo’s lower back to steer him forward, and the Omega couldn’t help the way he leaned into the grounding touch, loving how it almost offered to carry his burdens as each long and thick digit pressed into the muscles of his aching back. 

And that hand stayed there, as they got into the elevator, as they got off, as they walked into the parking garage and to Geto’s car. Neither said anything, not about the aches they felt, nor about the fearful sour pheromones that still clung to Gojo nor the angry possessive ones that hung from Geto. And definitely, neither said anything about the soothing, calming pheromones one sent out to the other and vice versa. 

Instead, Gojo tried to put Megumi into the back seat, failing as his little son clung to Gojo’s neck like his life depended on it, his body hanging in the air as his hands held fast and Gojo didn't have the heart to tear him away. 

A soft laugh escaped his mouth as he admitted defeat. Gojo climbed onto the cool leather seats, pushing aside the child’s booster seat until he was able to sit with Megumi in his lap. Geto closed the door for them and climbed into the front seat, pulling out of the lot without another word, just those same caring, tender eyes staring at Gojo via the rear view mirror. 

The car maintained that peaceful silence for 15 or so minutes, and it was only when Megumi fell asleep that Gojo decided it was probably a good time to call Nanami. The man had probably already suffered a few heart attacks this month– all of which could be traced back to Gojo– and so, Gojo should probably just let the man get whatever he needed off his chest. 

Which apparently meant telling Gojo what an idiot he was. 

“Why would you go into that situation alone, Gojo? Didn’t you say that Geto was nearby?”

“Well, yes, but–”

“What if something had happened to you? Do you enjoy acting like a child?”

“Well, no, and something almost did–”

“And then texting me and not even having the courtesy to fill me in. I left the office and was ready to come to Japan.”

Gojo let out a breath, and darted his eyes up to look at Geto’s side profile as he drove through traffic. He didn't like how Geto was nodding along from the front seat, agreeing with Nanami, able to hear most of the conversation even if the phone wasn’t on speaker due to how quiet the car was. 

“Did you really think having Megumi call me would get me off your back?”

“...yes?” Gojo could hear the frustrated breath Nanami let out, which was a little quieter than before, a clear indication Nanami had pulled the phone away from his ear– probably to glare at Gojo through it. 

Gojo waited for more of Nanami’s (justified) frustrations, but nothing. He looked up and caught Geto’s eye in the rearview mirror. The Alpha raised his brows in question, and Gojo simply shrugged back. 

He was about to open his mouth to say something when another frustrated huff came through the phone, then, “Gojo, all’s said and done, are you alright?” The question came out, softer than the others. Caring. 

Gojo couldn’t even bring himself to be sarcastic, he felt far too depleted for that. “Yeah, Megumi wasn’t hurt—“

“I wasn’t asking about Megumi, Gojo. Megumi already told me his side of the story and besides being a little spooked at seeing you scared, he insists he didn’t see much. How are you? A lot has happened to you in a very short span.”

“Oh,” Gojo’s mouth kept the soft ‘o’ position, catching Geto’s eye in the mirror again. 

Even years later– years of having people to rely on, people who openly loved him– Gojo still wasn’t used to someone asking him how he felt. Caring to know how he felt.

He swallowed. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Now. I’m okay now,”

A hum. “Geto is with you?”

“Yes” the word came out almost whispered. 

“Good. I’m glad. Fill me in on the rest tomorrow,” and the call ends. Nothing else needed to be said. Gojo knew Nanami well enough to know that despite his harsh personality, he cared about Megumi and Gojo. Deeply. 

The thought put a small smile on his face. 

“All okay?” Geto finally spoke up from the front seat. 

“Yeah. Yeah, he was just checking in on me.” Gojo stroked Megumi’s head again, admiring his son’s relaxed sleeping face and where it was smushed against Gojo’s stomach. 

Gojo finally looked up at Geto again, admiring his side profile as the other man focused on driving, his eyes occasionally darting to the rearview mirror to catch Gojo’s before focusing on the road again. Gojo asked him, “Are you okay? You're gonna have some pretty nasty bruises.”

A soft laugh, “Yeah, I’m okay. I have a bit of a headache and feel a little tired but honestly I haven’t been sleeping well the last few days.”

“Yeah… me neither,” Gojo admitted softly and the two stared at each other, recognizing what wasn't being said. Geto reached a hand back, bending it so his palm faced upward as if he was asking for Gojo to place a snack in his hand. Gojo grasped it, holding tight even if they could only clasp fingers due to the distance– Gojo unable to move closer due to his slumbering son. 

They stayed that way the rest of the ride until they got to Geto’s home. It was quiet; not in a way that precedes disaster, but rather with a sense of peace that can only occur after the worst has already happened and there was nothing left to stress about. 

Gojo hears the click of the car turning off, deep diving them into complete silence. The only noise that disrupts the space is that of Megumi’s soft breathing and the latch of the door opening as Geto gets out. 

Gojo takes off his seatbelt, careful of his sleeping son, and prepares himself to lift the boy out of the car when his door suddenly opens. Gojo has to make an effort to catch himself lest he tumble out, but before he can fully steady himself, warm hands catch him at the elbow and shoulder as Geto ducks his head down to look Gojo in his eyes. 

Voice soft, Geto drags his eyes over Gojo and toward Megumi, “Let me take him.”

Gojo opens his mouth to argue– Geto is riddled in bruises, and looks so tired, his attentive eyes are almost half-lidded and his cheeks slightly pink– but Geto stops him. 

“Satoru, let me take him,” the voice is soft but insistent. And when Gojo softly nods, Geto reaches in and picks up his son. The kid just grumbles for a moment, hands tightening on Gojo’s shirt before letting go only to tighten anew around Geto’s neck. 

Geto steps aside and waits for Gojo to exit the car, and like that, the two walk toward Geto’s home, together. 

Pulling his keys out of his back pocket, Geto pushes them into the lock, feeling the metallic grind and click that signals the door’s been unlocked. They’re barely a few feet into the doorway when they’re assaulted by two twin shrieks of “Papa!”

Nanako and Mimiko are already rushing over to hug their dad’s legs, as they usually do, when they stop short a few feet. Stopped by Geto’s stern look, his finger pressed to his lips, indicating they should stay quiet as Megumi continued to sleep in his arms. Nanako pretends to zip her lips shut while Mimiko nods seriously indicating that she too will stay quiet. 

“Suguru?” Gojo looks up from where he’d been watching the girls to see an older woman turning the corner into the hallway. She’s shorter, has long black hair streaked in gray, and is wiping her hands on a dish towel, but when she looks up there’s no question as to who she is. She has the same eyes as her son, and now those eyes are trained on Gojo. Gojo who tries not to feel self conscious about how wild his hair must look, how wrinkled and blood-splattered his clothes must be, or how this is his first time meeting Geto’s mother. 

Geto shifts to lift Megumi higher in his arms, doing so gently so as not to disturb the sleeping child, as he starts to toe off his shoes. “Hi mom, sorry about the last minute call.”

“Oh, you know I don’t care about that, Suguru. I love spending time with my granddaughters,” She walks toward them now, lightly touching the head of each granddaughter, smiling down at them. Gojo is taking his shoes off, watching it all, feeling his heart ache tenderly at the sight. 

While it’s no lie that Gojo had a terrible relationship with his father, ever since Megumi was born, he’d had a better one with his mother. But it’s not a relationship of “I love you”s and soft touches and loving smiles. It’s good– for the Gojos. He sees his mother once a month for lunch, where they catch up about the broader details of each other’s lives, but most of it is spent trying to get a quiet Megumi to talk. And his mother does normally watch Megumi for him when he has his heats or has to go on business trips. And she does always buy Megumi little gifts each time she sees him. But she doesn’t smile fondly at Gojo, or caress his head tenderly, or tell him she loves him, or hugs him. And he’s used to it, he is. He focuses instead on ensuring that his son is never wanting for that kind of affection, instead Megumi often complains that Gojo gives him too much attention, not realizing that each time Gojo hugs him, it is for his son, yes, but it is also for himself. 

Gojo never even realized his love language was touch until his son was born. 

“So, are you going to introduce us, Suguru? You’re being quite rude.”

“Yes. Mom, this is Gojo Satoru. Satoru,” Geto turns toward Gojo, looking at him over his son’s wild black hair. His voice softens just a notch when he says Gojo’s name, but it’s enough for Gojo to notice, “this is my mother.” 

Gojo turns to the woman and politely bows, “Nice to meet you.” When he stands upright again, Geto’s mother is right in front of him, and Gojo has to fight the instinct to take a step back as she cranes her neck up to scrutinize him. 

“So, you’re the ‘Satoru’ my son always mentions.”

“I don’t know about ‘always,’” Geto intervenes from the side. He is still standing quite close as none of them have moved from the hallway. His mother doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“I would say, ‘always.’” Gojo is looking down at her, into those serious, familiar eyes, and he feels himself start to sweat, his eyes darting to Geto quickly before returning to the woman in front of him. “Would you be the same ‘Satoru’ he had been pouting about in high school?”

Gojo swallows. “Yes? I mean, I would hope so. It’d be a little awkward if there was another Satoru he was talking to at the time,” Gojo lets out a weak laugh that he immediately wishes he could take back. He’s set on embarrassing himself, isn’t he?

Today can definitely be checked as the day that kills Gojo Satoru, he’s decided. 

Geto’s mother hums, and then her hand comes up to lightly pat his cheek and Gojo has to fight flinching at the unexpected touch, “Well, good on you. Between you and I, Geto is a little too serious and needs a pretty thing like you to help him have a little more fun in his life.” Gojo feels like he’s suffering whiplash as she finally smiles widely at him before turning her still smiling gaze toward Geto who watches the whole interaction with a small smile of his own, “And you, you didn’t tell me your Satoru was so pretty. How are those blue eyes not the first thing you mention?”

Gojo finally barks out a relieved laugh, “Yeah, Suguru, why wouldn’t you tell your mom how pretty my eyes are?” He blinks a few times with large exaggerated flutters of his lashes. 

Geto simply huffs a laugh, turning around to herd his daughters back toward the living room and kitchen where the scent of a warm broth is wafting over, “Do you see what you’ve done now, mom? His ego is already big enough without you inflating it more.”

She follows closely after Geto, “Well, my ego would also be big if I looked like that,” she laughs.

Gojo is still standing by the doorway, a big smile on his face, as he watches them all walk to the end of the hall and turn into the kitchen. Only when Geto pauses right before disappearing around the corner to look back at Gojo and incline his head to follow, does Gojo finally dash down the hall to follow. His steps feel lighter than they have in days. 

…

Gojo and Geto are on their third bowl of soup and Gojo swears he can feel the liquid dribbling out of his ears. He is so full, fighting to lift the next spoonful to his mouth. Each time he goes to set the spoon down and push the bowl away from himself, he is met with the stern gaze of Geto’s mother.

At first, she had divided most of her attention between her two granddaughters, but when they finished and went to watch a movie in Geto’s room– so as not to disturb a sleeping Megumi who was currently in their room– all of his mother’s attention fell onto them. 

When Geto finished his first bowl, she had spooned him a second, “Suguru, darling, you don’t look so good. You’re a little flushed. Have another bowl to feel better.”

“I’m fine, mom, just a little tired,” Geto had answered, but took the soup anyway. 

When Gojo had finished his second bowl, she had spooned him a third, “Satoru, you’re much much too skinny. Do they even feed you at home? You can be naturally gorgeous all you want, but that will only take you so far if you look easy to break.” Gojo hadn’t even been able to come up with a clever comeback, simply taking the soup handed to him. 

And now both Geto and Gojo looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes, shaky hands bringing soup to their awaiting mouths. Geto’s mother watched them both grimace as they swallowed. 

When they were about halfway done with their third bowl, and both on the verge of exploding, Geto’s mother lightly clapped her hands and announced that she was going to head back home before it got too late, “I still need to feed your father, Suguru. That man would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his body.”

Geto, ever the good son, stood up (also probably an excuse to get away from the soup) and announced that he’d walk her to the door. Wanting to give mother and son some privacy, Gojo walked over to Nanako and Mimiko’s room to check on Megumi, who was still sleeping soundly, before returning to the kitchen to do the dishes. 

He was on the last three dishes when a hand pressed against his back. “You didn’t have to do that,”  Geto leaned against the counter next to him.

Gojo was scrubbing away at a bowl, but he turned his head slightly to smile at Geto, “I’d do anything not to have another bite of that soup.” Then, “Not that it wasn’t good,” Gojo quickly tried to save, his smile dropping at the thought of having inherently insulted Geto’s mother.

“No, I know what you mean. We’ll have to trick the kids into having the leftovers.” He smiled up at Gojo, hand still pressed against his back. Gojo washes the same dish over and over again, just to give his hands something to do.

“Was everything okay with your mother?”

A hum, “Yeah, she just worries. Said we looked downright rough, and that we should at least have had the courtesy to change.” Gojo’s eyes trail down to the splattered blood on Geto’s shirt which will definitely stain considering how long it’s been there. “She also said to make sure that we both get good sleep tonight since we look like zombies,” Gojo had to laugh at that, sure that they both looked pretty bad right now. Gojo hadn’t slept properly in a few days, and up until yesterday, he’d been sobbing pretty regularly, so he’d be more surprised if his eyes weren’t still swollen and puffy. 

Looking over at Geto properly for the first time that day, he notices that his mother had been correct in saying that Geto looked a little under the weather; his eyes were drooping a bit as if with exhaustion and had shadows under them.

Gojo rinsed the bowl in his hand and placed it to dry, finally turning toward Geto, that hand on his back shifting with his movements but never leaving. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll finish cleaning up.”

Geto looked pointedly at the singular bowl in the sink, then back up at Gojo. Buckling down, Gojo gave him a light shove on his chest, “Go, you reek like sweat and Alpha.” Gojo had meant that last bit as a joke, but at the tight press of Geto’s lips, and the way his eyes darted to the side, it was clear he hadn’t taken it as one. The hand on Gojo’s back pulled away but Gojo caught it and held it in his, “All I meant was that… you smell of angry pheromones, both yours… and his. Plus you have blood in your hair. So just… go take a shower and I’ll bring my bag in from the car. Okay?” A tight smile. 

“Yeah,” a huff, a look toward the ceiling, “yeah, you’re right. But when I’m done, you shower too. You also smell like… him.” Before Gojo could respond, not even having thought about how the Alpha’s pheromones had probably rubbed off on him as well, Geto was letting go of Gojo’s hand and snaking his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight hug. 

A hand pressed against Gojo’s nape, guiding his head, lowering it to press against Geto’s shoulder. In turn, Geto pressed his nose against Gojo’s hairline, his lips against Gojo’s temple. 

The two stayed like that, quietly taking in the presence of the other, finding each other's scents under the day’s noise, until Geto gave him one final squeeze and let go, finally going to shower. 

The next thirty minutes were spent cleaning the last bowl, wiping down the countertops, checking in on Megumi, going out to the car to get their luggage, coming back inside and wondering where to leave them and if leaving them in Geto’s room would be too presumptuous (in the end he leaves them in living room). 

Finally finished with everything, Gojo goes to sit on the couch, and just as his legs bend to take a seat, Geto comes out of his room dressed in a t-shirt and sweats, hair wet and clinging to his face. Gojo quickly stands back up, awkward. 

“All done. I left a towel and some clothes in there if you wanted something comfortable to sleep in. Just be quiet going in, the girls fell asleep watching a movie.” Gojo nods, realizing that Geto means for him to take a shower in his bathroom and that somehow, despite having visited this home fairly often in the past few months, this is the first time Gojo will be going into the other man’s room. 

Gojo brushes by Geto on his way to the bedroom, his heartbeat jumping when their hands brush, fingers locking for a second, before releasing and then suddenly Gojo is under the hot spray of water, trying not to think about how long this day has been. How long it still has to go. 

When he finishes in the shower, having rubbed his skin raw until it was pink and had faint red markings from where he’d scratched himself in the process of trying to remove any remnant of that day from his body, Gojo puts on the clothes Geto had left him and takes a moment to bring the collar of the oversized shirt to his nose. It smells like fresh laundry and Geto, and the combo is incredibly centering to his frayed nerves. 

Stepping out of the steaming bathroom, Gojo notices that the previously occupied bed is now empty, and walks until he finds Geto sitting on the couch, his elbows propped on both widespread knees and his head hanging slightly, wet hair dangling. 

When Geto hears Gojo clear his throat, he looks up and quickly moves over to make room for him, which he tentatively accepts. 

The two sit quietly next to each other, avoiding eye contact at first, and then laughing softly when they inevitably catch each other’s gaze. 

“You know–”

“I have to–”

They both laugh quietly again at having interrupted each other. “You go first,” Geto politely inclines his head.

“No, you go first, I feel like my point isn’t even fully formed yet and will just leave me rambling for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Geto nods. Presses his lips into a tight smile. Looks away from Gojo, and then back into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to–”

“No, no, I do. I… I jumped the gun far too quickly. I had been stewing about my own insecurities for a while and instead of telling you, instead of clearing the air, I let them grow bigger and bigger until all I could see was how things were going to end for us. It suddenly didn’t become an if but a when. And I,” Geto’s brows furrow like he’s thinking of something, and then he shakes his head, changing his mind. “Back when we were kids, your dad told me that there would come a time when you had to choose between your future and me, and that the two couldn’t live synonymously. That I wasn’t worth ruining your future for.” Gojo felt his eyes sting with the knowledge that Geto had never thought himself good enough, when, to Gojo, the opposite had always been true. “And then, well, I got in my own head. Convinced that each time you were hiding that you were an Omega, you were also essentially telling me my place.”

“That’s not–”

“No, I know it’s stupid. It was just a seed your father planted when he told me you’d chosen your secret over me, and then it continued to fester, but honestly, I should have just asked you instead of accusing you of being too scared to admit the truth. So, I am. Sorry, that is.”

Gojo reaches out and grabs Geto’s hand, squeezing it softly. “While it was kinda shitty and hurtful the way you went off on me and essentially broke my heart, in front of our kids no less,” Gojo softly laughs to break some of the tension he sees building in Geto’s shoulders, “you weren’t wrong. Honestly, I was too scared to come out publicly as an Omega. I thought that I left that behind me when my father passed away, but honestly, I never did. And it’s hard. Fuck, it’s hard.”

His voice wavers.

“When I first presented, my family locked me away, alone with a mute maid, for six months. And because the only people I ever interacted with were Alphas and Betas, I didn’t even know what was happening to me. And when I finally saw my father again, he didn’t welcome me with open arms. Instead he put me through rounds of ‘training.’ Essentially a torture of sorts, where he would forc–” a breath, “Where he would force me into exposing my more Omegan qualities only to punish me for them. 

“For years, I was told that if anyone found out that I was an Omega that there would be serious consequences. I became convinced that Omegas weren’t worthy of love or affection, but were simply baser citizens. But after… after you, after Megumi, I thought I had gotten over some of that. That now that I had seen that it was possible to be both an Omega and loved, that I wouldn’t care.

“That’s what I told myself anyway, but you get to a point where it’s hard to distinguish between what you tell yourself and what you believe deep down. And deep down I was still convinced that I was some unlovable thing that would be kicked out of society for being myself, and I couldn’t afford that, not when I had someone relying on me.” Gojo wasn’t sure when he’d started crying, but he became aware of it when Geto’s hand lifted to cradle his cheek and wipe a tear away.  

“It’s okay, baby, I get it. It’s my fault for pressing you.” 

Gojo shook his head as tears fell harder, a choked hiccup escaping his lips as he tried to continue, “No, no, that’s what I’m trying to say, you weren’t wrong. I was so deep in it that I couldn't even see another path ahead anymore. Hadn’t even realized that my father still had me in his grasp, even six feet under.” He exhales a shaky breath and looks up from his lap and into Geto’s eyes. “After we… I don’t even know if I can call it a break-up since we never said anything about dating, but let’s be honest and call it a break-up,” Geto laughed lightly at that because beyond the titles, the two had definitely been dating by all definitions of the word, “Nanami came over, and this is what I had wanted to tell you today, why I came to the school in the first place. Nanami had found an official document, signed by my father, saying that Gojo Enterprises essentially can’t fire me just because I’m an Omega. That that has been the case for two years– at least. That I can have both. And sure there might be some backlash from egotistical Alphas who might feel ‘lied’ to that I’m not a Beta, and I’m not saying I’m ready today and I don’t know if I’ll be ready tomorrow either, but the whole point is that I can do it. That I will do it–”

Gojo is cut off from finishing his sentence by a firm press of lips against his own. A hand curling into his hair and behind his ear to draw him close. When they pull away, there is barely an inch between them, the space hot from their mingled breaths. 

Gojo continues, his lips brushing Geto’s with every word,“I was scared, but I’m not anymore. If I have you by my side, then it’d be worth it. Plus, I realized that it’s not so bad being an Omega. Especially if it means I get to be this gorgeous and smart and amazing.” The two of them laugh at that and Geto pulls Gojo in for another kiss, and it’s just as sweet as the last. Simply a soft press of lips together, separating for a second, before pressing back into each other. 

When they pull away again, Gojo’s eyes flutter open to see Geto already staring at him, pupils large and cheeks flushed. Gojo’s sure he must look the same– if you also add in pink swollen eyes from the tears.

“I don’t need you to change for me, that’s what I was saying. If you want to stay a Beta forever, then that’s okay with me. I just want you, and I just want you to be honest with me.” Geto rubs his thumb over the edge of Gojo’s eye. 

“I know, but I’m saying I don’t just want to be with you, I want to be with you. I want you to mark me, and I want us to be a family. I want the girls to be just as much mine as they are yours, and the same goes for Megumi. I want stupid family vacations with cheesy photos, and boring Wednesday night dinners. I want to be able to kiss you whenever I feel like it, and wherever. I want to be your one and only, just like you are mine.”

Geto is looking at him with adoration, and love, and hunger, and– and then suddenly their lips are back on each other. Harder than before, but just as sweet. A thumb caresses Gojo’s cheek, as his arms finally come up to wrap around Geto’s neck.

The two sit on the couch, tangled, both smelling like Geto’s shampoo and wearing his clothes. Their lips brush and caress each other and Gojo hums at the way he can feel Geto’s fingers press into his skull.

Geto breaks away for a breath, enough to say, “You are, you’re my one and only, Satoru,” before closing the distance between them again. And this time the kiss is harder, and Geto is moving his body forward, pushing Gojo backwards until he lands with his head at an awkward angle on the couch’s arm, but before he can say anything, or even shift his body slightly to alleviate the discomfort in his neck, Geto is pressed between his legs, pushing him into the couch, tongue tracing his lips, asking for entry. And at this point, Gojo doesn’t mind the discomfort if it means getting Geto to kiss him some more. 

Gojo opens his mouth and is rewarded with a sweep of a hot tongue and a deep groan that reverberates through his body. Their mouths and tongues and lips press together in sweeping kisses that leave Gojo moaning. Geto’s hand digs deeper into his hair, causing Gojo to gasp and allowing Geto to press his tongue just a little deeper, fully tasting the other. 

Gojo is left panting as Geto moves from his lips to his neck, kissing and licking the skin up to his scent glands. Geto moves his other hand to Gojo’s stomach, and Gojo feels his abs tighten and his cock jerk at the touch. Fingers move from navel to waist, where Geto’s hand squeezes the soft skin there as his tongue finally licks and laps at Gojo’s scent gland and–

And–

Mmm.

Gojo’s brows furrow at the sudden jolt of his brain, at the sudden flash he has of someone else touching him like his, holding him down and kissing him, and suddenly Gojo feels a little uncomfortable in his skin, feels the need to catch his breath for a moment. 

“Su–Suguru, maybe we should take this to your room? What if one of the kids wakes up?” Gojo tries not to flinch at the mouth, currently sucking a hickey onto his scent gland as if it wanted to suck the very pheromones out of it. “Suguru,” Gojo insists again. 

Geto finally pulls away, and Gojo sighs in relief, letting go of Geto’s neck to sit up, when the hand at his waist holds him tighter and instead of giving him reprieve, those sweet, perfect, loving lips return to his. Kissing him so deeply it almost takes his breath away, but now Gojo can only focus on how uncomfortable he is; how his neck hurts him and how he does want Geto, more than he knows what to do with, but he just needs a moment to catch his breath. Then he’ll be fine. He’s sure of it. 

Geto is still kissing Gojo, pressing their tongues together and still holding Gojo’s face so sweetly it makes his heart ache. The hand holding his waist squeezes before moving to caress his back, pausing there for a moment before diving into his borrowed sweatpants to squeeze his ass.

“Sugu–” They’re still kissing. Gojo’s neck hurts. The kiss is so sweet. Geto tastes like mint. Gojo’s skin feels like it’s crawling.

“Wait–” Their tongues are slippery against each other. A hand squeezes his ass. Gojo presses his hands to Geto’s chest. Geto feels hot. Tears prick Gojo’s eyes. A finger presses against that sensitive ring of muscle. Gojo stiffens and he needs this to stop. Now. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. 

“Stop!” Gojo uses the last of his strength to push up against Geto’s chest, and that, combined with Gojo turning his head away so Geto can no longer access his mouth, finally has Geto pausing and pulling away to look down at Gojo.

“Fuck, I told you to wait for a moment, god what’s wrong with you Su–” Gojo had turned to look at Geto halfway through his sentence but what he saw had him pausing. Geto’s pupils were blown wide, his cheeks were flushed and from where Gojo’s hands touched his chest, he felt hot. But what truly stopped Gojo was the wide-eyed, almost scared look Geto had as his eyes bounced back and forth between Gojo’s.

And then just as quickly as this whole thing had started, Geto is pulling away from Gojo as if he’d been burned. His back presses against the other side of the couch as he looks from his hands, held out in front of him as if he was horrified by them, to where Gojo is sprawled out on the couch– brows furrowed, shirt and pants askew. 

“I–” Geto’s mouth opens and closes, and suddenly he’s scrambling up to stand. He walks around the table as if trying to keep some distance between himself and Gojo. “I’m sorry,” he swallows. “I think you should sleep out here tonight.” His voice is quiet, and rough, and unsteady.

“Suguru…” Gojo is slowly sitting up, placing his feet on the floor, but Geto is already backing away, as if to maintain the distance between them. His eyes are wide, scared, and looking at Gojo pleadingly.

Gojo gets up and moves to reach out, to clasp Geto’s hand, to explain that while he was feeling overwhelmed and did need a break, that didn’t mean he wanted to be alone. They had only just found each other again. 

But when Gojo’s hand brushes Geto’s, the latter recoils until his back slams against the wall, “Don’t touch me!”

Gojo cradles the rejected hand against his chest, in shock at the visceral reaction Geto had to him, “What…”

“Don’t touch me,” It comes out softer this time, “I– I think I’m in rut. All the tension from today must have triggered it.”

Gojo’s shoulders relax and he fights a laugh that the root of the issue is so simple, “Suguru, that’s no big deal. You’ve been with me during my heat a few times, and–”

“It’s not the same!” Geto doesn’t meet his eyes, he swallows and Gojo tracks the way his throat bobs and moves, “It’s… not the same.” Then, before Gojo can even respond, Geto mutters out, “I’m sorry,” and he’s gone. 

The bedroom door slams shut and Gojo is alone in the living room wondering what the fuck happened. 

He feels like an idiot for not having noticed the signs of rut earlier; the exhaustion, headache, and flushed cheeks were all telltale signs but, even if he hadn’t caught it, it was not reason enough for Geto to act the way he did. 

Sure, Gojo had never seen a rut up close, but he was from the Gojo clan, he’d heard enough about them, heard his Alpha relatives or their Beta spouses talk about them when they thought he wasn’t nearby. 

Gojo tried not to get frustrated, but it was hard, they had just made up after all. Geto had spouted a bunch of nonsense about “trust” and “truth” and yet he didn’t want to talk to Gojo about this? Seemed a bit hypocritical if you asked him. 

But more than anger, more than frustration, Gojo just felt sad and upset that Geto was hiding from him rather than talking to him. And this last thought is what spurred Gojo forward, what pushed him to knock on Geto’s bedroom door and try for the handle– which wouldn’t budge. When there was no response, and no indication that Geto was going to let him in, Gojo sank to the floor and pressed his back to the door. 

After a few moments of silence, Gojo tentatively called out, “Suguru?” Met with nothing, he tried again, his voice getting thick the more worked up he got, “Suguru, I– I don’t understand. What’s wrong? Why won’t you tell me? Just– just talk to me. Please.” His voice squeaked with emotion and he felt his sadness cloying in his chest when his begging was met with silence. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, the only sound in the house was that of the humming refrigerator, until Gojo heard a shuffle and felt the door creak and shift under the weight of someone leaning on it. 

Gojo held his breath and, finally, he heard Geto’s tired voice, “It has to do with the girls’ mother.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

Geto Suguru didn’t remember much of the year after Gojo Satoru left.

In a way, it all blurred together under the weight of his own sorrow. 

At first, Geto had been haunted by blue eyes and loud smiles. His dreams were often filled with the sound of deep, infectious laughter, only for him to wake up feeling hollow. At some point, he stopped sleeping entirely. The weight of his emotions pulled heavily on his darkening under eyes. 

When the time came to apply to colleges, he couldn’t find the energy to fill out any applications, and as the deadline teetered closer and closer, Geto found he could only stare at various college pamphlets with an empty gaze.

One day after class, Yaga had pulled him aside, sternly warning him that if he didn’t start his applications soon, he wouldn’t be able to go to any college. And Geto didn’t care, why should he? He had barely listened to Yaga rattle off about various English programs he’d thought Geto would be interested in. Instead, Geto had just stared out the window, watching the wind rattle the nearby trees and thinking about a time he had rattled one of those very trees himself, on a day when he’d thrown all caution to the wind and kissed the boy he’d adored.

“... there are plenty of amazing colleges in the United States that have elite English programs–”

“What?” Geto had responded so quickly, after numbly taking in everything else, that Yaga hadn’t replied right away. Geto repeated himself, “What did you say about schools in America?”

“I said that they have great English programs that you could apply to?” And like that a fire had begun to burn inside Geto again. It was small, and it was constantly under threat of suffocation from lack of oxygen, but it was burning.

This was it.

If Gojo thought he could just leave Geto, without at least explaining himself first, then he was sorely mistaken. Geto would make him own up to leaving the way he did. 

And like that, Geto had started filling out applications for as many colleges as he could afford, both in Japan and the US.

***

It was probably a good thing, Geto had thought, that he’d been rejected from all but two colleges. He couldn’t even mourn the loss, couldn’t even question how every college he’d wanted to go to had denied him, when he sat next to his mother and held her hand in a hospital bed. As he’d listened to the doctors say that she needed heart surgery and to be monitored as she recovered. 

With no other choice, Geto submitted his application to take a gap year before college began, and in the end, out of the two colleges he’d been accepted to, only one would hold his spot for him.

So that was that.

And just as quickly as the fire inside him began, it was quickly snuffed out, and Geto was pulled back under by his emotions, as if the hands of drowning men were trying to pull his heart and stomach into the underworld with them.

The only reprieve Geto ever managed to get was when he was visited by blue eyes in his dreams.

***

It was almost laughable when Geto presented as an Alpha the summer after graduating. How he’d almost missed the fever and delirium of his first rut due to the insomnia and sleep deprivation he’d been dealing with; due to the way he’d often wake up a little warm either from the unconscious tears he’d shed during the nights he did manage to sleep.

The only reason he’d found out about his presentation was because his mother had insisted he go to the hospital, saying that there couldn’t be two sick people in the house. She’d laughed at this. He hadn’t. 

And suddenly, he was an Alpha. 

And suddenly, the course of his life had changed.

And all Geto could think was why couldn’t this have come sooner, at a time when it would be useful, at a time when he had something to protect. Had some one.

But instead, he was left with another growth spurt, a few pamphlets about second gender, a pulsing headache caused by all the new scents he was forced to endure, and medication he was expected to take as needed. 

And all the while, his dreams persisted, and as the time passed, the voice in those dreams grew increasingly unfamiliar. 

***

The rest of the year was as blurry as it had begun. Geto simply went through the motions, eating when someone put food in front of him, growing quieter amongst company, sleeping less, growing his hair out and not bothering to style it– numb to life as it passed him by. 

All the while trying to care for his mother who, even recovering, worried about him.

But most days just found him in his bed. 

It wasn’t until he was due to start college in a week, only to still be unpacked and laying in bed that his mother finally claimed she was done with the “good guy” act.

She’d burst into his room, causing him to scramble up and cover his half-naked body with the blanket as he shouted at her to get out, but his stern mother simply yanked the sheets off him, “Geto Suguru, you get out of this bed right now. Get dressed, we’re going to buy your school books, we’re going for a haircut, and we’re going to buy you some new clothes since you decided to outgrow all your old ones.” And when it looked like Geto was about to protest, she gave him a firm look that left no room for questioning, “Now.”

Geto pulled on clothes that were indeed too small on him– shirts that pulled at the seams of his shoulders, pants that cut off above his ankles– and followed his mother out of the house, squinting at the sun, wondering if it had always shined so brightly. 

He trailed after his mother as she stopped at the local bookstore, at a few clothing stores, and at the bank, all with his eyes glued to the ground. 

When Geto finally came to, finally became aware of where he was, no longer simply following his mother like a lost duckling, he was seated in a salon chair and staring at himself in a mirror. 

His eyes were outlined by dark circles. His shoulders were broader than the last time he’d actively looked. His hair was long, down to his chest. And there was a man behind him, patiently waiting with a pair of scissors poised in his hand. His brows were raised as if to say, “well?” 

But what truly made Geto pause, made his breath stutter, was that the man– a foreigner– had dark blue eyes that pulled Geto into the dreams and memories he’d been haunted by for over a year now. Thoughts that he couldn’t escape from no matter how hard he shook his head, or how often he’d tried to slip out of sleep’s grasp. It didn’t matter either way, because as soon as his eyes closed, the picture painted behind his lids was always the same. 

And it drove him mad. 

Geto looked at his hair– the very hair that held memories of his life– and decided that then and there that he would forget. He looked at the man, “Cut it all off.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

And with that, Geto left the salon with a haircut that barely touched his ears and a lighter weight on his shoulders. 

***

That following Sunday, his parents dropped him off at university and his mother gave him strict instructions to make some friends and that she’d better not find him lazing around in bed all day when she visited in a few months.

And then he was alone.

And maybe turning over a new leaf was easier said than done. Because he’d rather crawl into bed and lose himself there than go to the campus cafeteria with his roommate, yet when the smaller man suggested they check it out together, Geto agreed. 

His mother was right. He needed to let go of the boy who clearly had forgotten him. 

Life slowly returned to some form of normalcy for Geto. He studied, went to class, remembered to apply scent patches so as not to disturb other students, and with each day that passed he thought about that white haired Omega less and less. 

By his second semester, Geto had a group of friends he enjoyed hanging out with, it was getting easier to smile and laugh, he often played basketball with his classmates, and his grades were good. The weight on his chest came and went, but it had gotten to a point where it was manageable and when it did arise and threatened to pull him under, he could push it down until it passed. 

Life was easy, mundane, boring– he was no longer haunted by blue eyes. That is, at least, until the first day of his Historic Literature class, when he sat down next to a fairly pretty Beta girl who smelled like fresh laundry and delicate spring flowers. 

Geto hadn’t even realized he’d been staring at her, his mind lost to memories of white hair and a bright-sad smile, until she snapped her fingers in front of him. “Do I have something on my face or something?”

“Huh?” He’d blinked. “Oh no, sorry. Lost in thought. Hi, I’m Geto Suguru.”

“Hi,” She’d smiled shyly back. And so it went. They sat next to each other every day in class. He learned that, like him, she was from a small town filled exclusively with Betas. That she also wanted to teach English. That she had three siblings and was close to her parents. 

They went from just talking in class, to meeting up beforehand to grab a coffee together. To grabbing lunch afterwards. To getting dinner. 

Three months into their slow-forming friendship, Geto asked her out. And while a part of him felt guilty that sometimes when they would kiss, or hug, or fuck, his mind would drift to the white haired boy that sometimes haunted his dreams, they continued to date. And eventually, just as he’d begun to forget the sound of that voice, he’d started forgetting the exact shade of blue...

And when she said she loved him, he didn't feel guilty for saying it back.

For the most part, being with her made him feel normal, made him forget that he was an Alpha and not a Beta like her. He hung out with her Beta friends, and Beta siblings when they visited, and when he saw the Alphas and Omegas hanging around he would simply ignore them and his life felt like he had imagined it before he went to that high school that recentered and reshaped his entire life. 

He almost forgot he wasn't a Beta. 

Almost. 

And that had been his mistake. 

It was the end of sophomore year, they had been dating for over 6 months, had spent their spring break with his family and then hers, and life was simple and easy and while it didn’t have Geto yearning, he was satisfied. 

They were on Geto’s couch, in his apartment, his arm thrown around her shoulder, her body tucked into his, as they watched some movie together– Geto could no longer remember what it was. He’d had a headache for the last few days, and was feeling quite tired and while he’d rather be in bed, they had made plans to have dinner together that night and he hadn’t wanted to cancel at the last minute. 

“Sugu, you know, all my friends are asking when we’re going to move in together,” her fingers walked over his chest and he hummed in acknowledgment of the question. 

“Yeah?”

“Mmm, yeah. What do you think?” She swung her leg over his hips and brought her hands up to his chest before leaning down to kiss him.

“About?”

“Sugu!” She laughed, “About moving in together?” He kissed her back, taking a deep whiff of her familiar scent, feeling his heart pang the way it always did when he thought about it too hard. 

“Could be fun,” he responded, and then they were kissing.

It was pretty routine for them at that point, but Geto still didn’t feel too good. As he kissed her, all he could think about was his headache. And as she touched him, all he could think about was how hot he felt. And when he finally pushed his cock into her, he pressed his nose into her hair and all he could do was smell her. 

And she smelled so good. Fuck . She smelled so good. He fucked her harder, holding her to him. When he closed his eyes he saw those blurry blue eyes with their reluctant trust, and he swore he could almost feel that lithe body beneath him. 

When Geto felt his cock start to rush with blood, he moved to pull out, but ankles locked behind his back. “I’m about to–”

“It’s okay, you’re wearing a condom, just cum inside me, please.”

“No, but, I think–”

“Please, Sugu. I want you, I want this, ” She tightened her grasp on him, and what could he do but keep pumping his hips, lost on the precipice of pleasure. When he finally came, Geto was too lost in thought to even realize anything was wrong. To even realize when moans of pleasure had become moans of pain.

How long had she been slapping his shoulder?

Geto pulled back and finally lifted his head to look down at her, at her red face as she said his name again and again, “Pull out Suguru, it fucking hurts .”

And he tried. He did.

But he couldn’t.

So unfamiliar with his body, with his second gender, Geto hadn’t even realized he had been in a pre-rut, that that had been why he hadn’t been feeling well. He’d only ever heard about knotting, but he’d never seen it, hadn’t even known what triggered it. 

Maybe he should have taken those pamphlets the doctor had given him more seriously.

He tried to pull out, but was met with a scream, as she slapped his shoulder again and as tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Something they don’t tell you, is that Betas can’t take knots. 

“Suguru, pull out! It hurts!”

“I can’t. Fuck. I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry .” His voice was equally panicked as he felt his cock stop growing and lock into place as cum poured out of him and the condom broke. Shock froze him as the girl who loved him cried and sobbed and slapped his shoulder and demanded he pull out. Her pleading turned to name calling, as she slapped his body and berated him again and again. 

“You’re the worst.”

“You’re a monster.”

“I hate you.”

He took it all. 

It continued for thirty minutes until his knot managed to deflate enough to pull out. She had quickly scrambled to her feet as he sat there, cock out, before she put her clothes on and left. And that was that.

He never saw or heard from her again.

At least, until 10 or so months later, when he’d been back home for summer break after having finished his Junior year. He’d heard a knock on his door, but when he’d gone to answer it, no one was there, and just as Geto had gone to close it, assuming it was a prank or his imagination, he’d looked down. 

On the steps of his childhood home was a basket with two sleeping infants and a note that read: They’re your problem. 

***

Gojo pressed his head against the door behind him, closing his eyes as he listened to Geto’s story, which was told through cracked pauses and whimpered words. Thinking back on it, it made a lot of sense; why Geto insisted he was not a good person, why he hated other Alphas, why he often talked down on his own Alpha qualities, why he hated himself and saw himself unworthy of others.

It was almost funny how similarly broken the two of them were, Gojo thought.

When Geto finished, and there was no noise but the humming refrigerator and his haggard breaths, Gojo tentatively broke the silence.

“Do the girls know?”

There was a pause where Gojo thought he wouldn’t answer and then, “The girls? No. They don’t know. They’ve never even met their mother. I haven’t heard from her since that day.” Gojo nodded, even if no one could see him. He wanted to ask how a mother abandons her children, okay to never see them again, but he really had no place to compare, considering Toji had clearly known about Megumi’s existence but chose to never make himself known either. 

It seemed their children were more similar than they knew. And because of this, both Geto and Gojo had been suffering for the past few years, unable to share or console the deep insecurities and sorrows they had been carrying alone. 

How long had Gojo thought himself unlovable? Had Geto thought himself a monster, only capable of hurting those he loved?

Gojo turned his body so that his temple and knees rested on the door.

“Suguru,” he softly called, “Let me in,” he asked. 

Nothing. But Gojo waited, wanting Geto to trust him on his own, to open this last metaphorical door into his past. 

Finally, a panting, whimpering voice responded, “I don’t want to hurt you, Satoru.”

“You won’t.” Gojo spoke with a sureness he fully felt. He knew Geto wouldn't hurt him. How could he when they were made for each other?

It was quiet and then Gojo heard the rustling of clothes and movement from the otherside of the door, and suddenly the door creaked and pulled open. Gojo looked up from his place on the floor, at Geto. Geto whose hair was loose, whose face was covered in a light flush and sweat, whose eyes were on the ground and avoiding Gojo’s gaze. 

Gojo smiled, “There you are.” 

He stood up and slowly moved toward Geto. The room behind him was dark, and Geto almost seemed to melt into it. When he didn’t flinch away, Gojo came in closer and pulled the Alpha into a hug, draping his arms over broad shoulders and pressing his cheek to the top of that dark head. For a moment, Geto didn’t move, and then his hands came up and grasped at Gojo’s shoulders in a desperate hug as he buried his face into the Omega’s neck. The two stood there for a while, Gojo petting the shorter man’s head and back in soothing motions, releasing sweet pheromones, openly in a way he’d never felt confident enough to do before, and Geto held him tighter.

Finally, when Gojo felt the tension escape Geto’s shoulders, he pulled away and cupped the Alpha’s face. They looked at each other in obvious adoration and though there were undertones of sorrow and hurt in their gazes that made Gojo’s eyes prickle, he couldn't bring himself to look away. 

Stretching his hand out to the wall, Gojo flicked the light on and they both winced at the sudden change. Then Gojo took Geto’s hand, closed the bedroom door, and led Geto to the edge of the bed, where they sat, hands intertwined between them. Gojo ran his other hand through Geto’s hair, massaging his scalp, in a position so similar to how they’d been earlier that day, but in reversed roles. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Gojo whispered, not wanting to break the peaceful atmosphere they had. 

“But you see now, don’t you? That I could hurt you?” Geto’s gaze was desperate.

Gojo shook his head, “No, you’d never. It was just a mistake, Suguru. It wasn’t your fault–”

“It was– ”

“It wasn’t.” Gojo ran his thumb over Geto’s brow to release the tension there. “You were a kid, you had no one to teach you how different life was for Alphas and Omegas versus Betas. How could you have known?”

“I could have–”

“How could you have known ?” Gojo asked again more firmly. “It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of a system that doesn’t educate their citizens past the most genetic basics, using words and phrases that don’t translate to practice. It’s really not your fault.”

Geto pursed his lips, clearly reluctant to believe Gojo.

“You deserve someone who knows what they’re doing, who won’t–”

“I want you .” Gojo insisted. “And all I want to know is, if you want me too.”

Geto looked up at Gojo as if he’d lost his mind, “Of course, I want you. I don’t think there’s ever been a day I didn’t want you. But I’m not a good person, Satoru, you know this now.”

“No. All that matters is that you’re it for me Suguru, and if you don’t believe you’re good enough, then I’ll just have to show you otherwise.”

Before Geto could find another reason to argue (Gojo internally rolled his eyes when he saw Geto go to open his mouth again) he pushed forward and pressed their lips together. His other hand came up to cradle Geto’s face and he kissed him softly, sweetly, in slow sweeping movements until he was all too familiar with the taste of Geto’s mouth. 

Gojo took the lead, and used the advantage his height gave him to tilt Geto’s face upward so that he had easier access to his mouth. The kiss was slow, but hungry; lips bitten and tugged, tongues pushed against each other as soft moans were traded.

Their pheromones surrounded the space, and now that Gojo was able to think clearly, without sorrow clouding his mind, he was able to notice that Geto’s scent was stronger, rougher, and headier in a way that clearly indicated rut. But Gojo no longer found it overwhelming, instead, as he controlled the kiss, and swung his leg to straddle Geto’s hips and already-stiff cock, Gojo found the scent to be calming and addictive. 

Gojo ground down as they kissed, resulting in a deep groan from the both of them. The press of that hard dick against Gojo’s ass had him seeing stars and leaking, and he wants, he wants so bad. 

The two finally broke apart, a trail of saliva connecting them. Their mingled scents curled and curved in the space together. 

And that was the last straw for Gojo, whose desire went from sweet and hungry to desperate, and suddenly he needed Geto. Needed the man he loved. Needed to feel connected to him after a rough few days and an even rougher afternoon. 

Pressing a soft kiss to Geto’s lips, Gojo stood up, enjoying the confused look in the other man’s eyes. A confused look that quickly turned shocked when Gojo pushed his knees apart and kneeled between them. 

Gojo reached for the elastic of the sweatpant, already able to see the imprint of the hard cock against the material when a hand grabbed his, stopping the motion. Gojo looked up at a frowning Geto. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, baby,” Gojo loved the way Geto’s eyes widened at hearing that pet name coming from Gojo for the first time, and it felt so right Gojo couldn’t help the way his smile widened, “Let me take care of you for once.”

Gojo waited, watching Geto, watching the way his eyes shifted, the way he pulled at his lip, before catching Gojo’s eye and giving one firm nod.

Gojo shook free of that hand’s hold and dipped into those sweatpants until he could pull that hot, red cock from its hiding place. Geto was seemingly quiet, and when Gojo looked up, Geto was looking at him with wide eyes. 

Gojo smiled and rubbed his cheek against the cock in his hand, maintaining eye contact.

Watching for the Alpha’s reaction, he curled his lips around the head of the cock and sucked on the tip, fighting a laugh when a hand immediately gripped his hair and a groan echoed through the space. Gojo opened his mouth and ran his tongue over the warm, silky skin from base to tip. Loving the soft curve of Geto’s cock, the way the uncircumcised head was red and leaking at the attention it was getting.

And Gojo loved it. Loved how good he felt, making his Suguru feel good.

With that thought, Gojo looked up at Geto as he sucked a finger into his mouth, popping it out to rub it against that sensitive skin located behind the balls. Geto had his eyes closed, head tilted toward the ceiling, hand tightly gripping white hair to the point of pain. And Gojo really loved it.

He rubbed his wet finger against the perineum, and when Geto’s cock jolted, Gojo swallowed it whole. 

Geto moaned and it was music to Gojo’s ears. 

He relaxed his throat and pushed down further, feeling saliva leaking down his chin as he tried to remember to breathe through his nose. 

“Fuck” Geto breathed when Gojo swallowed around his cock, and the desperate whimpering way he said it caused Gojo’s own cock to jolt. “When did you get so good at this?”

Gojo pulled back, saliva running down his chin, tears pricking his eyes, his mouth only a few inches from that wet, angry-looking cock. Gojo couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Oh come on, I wasn’t that bad.”

Geto looked down at him, his grip on Gojo’s hair loosening until he was lightly stroking the Omega’s head. “‘That bad’? Satoru, I was worried you were going to bite my dick off by accident.”

They both smiled softly at the memory of when they had gone to Gojo’s home and the Omega had been desperate to try everything and anything if it meant touching Geto. 

“You still came, though!” The two laughed and Geto used the pause in conversion to move his hand and wipe the saliva from Gojo’s chin. Meanwhile, Gojo used that same pause to wrap a hand around the cock in front of him, giving it two quick pumps that had Geto’s breath stuttering as he tried to reply. 

“Of co– course I did! The boy I was crushing on had his mouth on my dick, you could have actually bitten it off and I probably still would have come.”

“We could test out that theor–”

“Nope, don’t even finish that sentence, not even as a joke.” But despite how stern the sentence sounded, Geto was smiling at Gojo when he said it, and Gojo loved the way Geto’s eyes closed when he smiled at the Omega, as if he reserved that full smile only for him. 

Gojo also loved the way Geto’s hair fell around his face and shoulders as the Alpha gazed down at him. And he loved how gently Geto caressed his head, softly and with the tips of his fingers as if he was ready to pull away the moment his instincts threatened to get the better of him– threatened to hurt Gojo in any way. 

In all, Gojo loved Geto so deeply. His heart and soul could recognize him blind. 

Gojo surged up and threw his body at Geto, forcing them both to plop onto the bed underneath them. Their heads clunked together in an audible thud, but Gojo ignored the bruising pain and pressed his lips to Geto’s, again and again.

He loved this man. So much.

Moving so his legs cradled Geto’s hips, Gojo rested his weight on his hands on either side of Geto’s face and kissed him again. Geto’s hands came to rest on Gojo’s hips as he opened his mouth and their kiss deepened. 

Gojo was not sure when he started purring, but at some point between shoving his tongue in the other’s mouth and grinding his hips against a dick that must be painfully hard at this point, he must have started. 

Geto groaned when Gojo broke their kiss, and moaned when Gojo took his shirt off. Geto’s hands tightened on his waist, now pressed skin to skin, and he stared at a semi-nude Gojo intensely before tightening his grasp and holding Gojo down as his hips pulsed up. 

Gojo whimpered at how good it felt, but the sound seemed to shock Geto, who flinched and quickly released Gojo. Gojo paused to look down at his Alpha, watching Geto’s dark, glazed eyes dart from the Omega’s lips, to exposed chest, to still-covered crotch. 

He hated how nervous Geto seemed, how uncomfortable he was in his own body. And yet, at the same time, Gojo loved how considerate he was, how his hands were simultaneously strong, supportive and light– ready to release him should Gojo ever express his own discomfort.

But now, what he needed was to be so close to the Alpha that there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

Grinding down, Gojo moaned and released more pheromones to signal that he truly wanted what was happening.

He grabbed Geto’s hand and held it to his sensitive chest. “Touch me.” It wasn’t a question, and Geto’s hand flexed against the soft peck under it before curling his fingers to pinch the nipple there. 

“Ah!” Gojo moaned, grinding down against the cock under him, feeling the way he’d already soaked through his pants. Gojo tossed his head back as another hand lifted to pull and pinch his pink nipples. His hips moved faster and faster as he panted. He was completely lost to it, ready to come from nipple play and grinding alone.

He was already breathless, panting, jumbles of words tumbling out of his mouth, “Yes! Like that. Suguru. You feel so good. God, I fucking love you, Suguru.” Gojo was so lost to it, somehow lost to pleasure without even having his cock touched, that he hadn’t even realized what he said out loud, until Geto’s grip moved to tighten on his hips and pause his movement. 

Gojo stared down at Geto in a daze, whose chest was heaving as he looked up at Gojo, clearly trying to maintain some level of lucidity.

“Satoru?”

“Mmm?”

“What did you just say?”

“Me?” Gojo pouted as if deep in thought, teasing the other man.

“Satoru!” The voice was frustrated and yet tired, simply begging for an answer.

“Oh, that I love you? That I’m in love with you?” Gojo’s lips curled shyly, because although it was true, and although he’d been teasing Geto just a second earlier, his ears were tinged red in slight embarrassment of saying it out loud.

But Geto was looking at him with big, red-tinged eyes. The grip on Gojo’s hips loosened, and Geto craned his neck up to kiss him delicately on the lips; once, twice, a third time. Gojo could feel a slight quiver to the lips that kissed him, which only made him want to kiss Geto more. 

Gojo pulled away to lovingly kiss Geto’s forehead, his cheeks, his lips. Wanting to cover the man in kisses and affection. And because he was so close, Gojo didn’t miss the way Geto’s breath hitched when Gojo told him again, this time not in the throws of passion or poised as a question, but as a fact, “I love you, Suguru.”

Geto took a stuttering breath, “Satoru, you’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

Gojo laughed and pressed his smiling mouth back to Geto’s, using the distraction to lift his own hips and take his pants off– leaving him completely naked on top of the heaving Alpha. 

Placing two hands on Geto’s shoulders, Gojo pushed Geto firmly against the mattress and ground his hips down, moaning at the feel of Geto pressed against his ass, at the way they slid together from all the slick, pre-cum, and saliva down there. 

He needed more. 

Gojo lifted his hips so that they were hovering over the awaiting, throbbing cock beneath him and moved his hand until his fingers were poised at his entrance, sliding against it from the moisture accumulated there. 

Now, hovering slightly above Geto, Gojo started to finger himself, wet noises filled the space, and Geto watched the whole thing from his front row seat. Watched as liquid dripped from Gojo’s pulsing hole down onto Geto’s cock. 

The man swallowed at the sight. “Satoru–”

“Do you see how turned on I am by you? How much I want you?” Gojo purred, moaning as he inserted a third finger.

Geto’s cock twitched, and he let out a shaky breath. His hands moved to grab the hips punctuated by sharp hip bones of the man hovering above him. 

Gojo’s hips were moving at rhythm as his fingers continued to move in and out of himself, the hand he was using to hold himself up squeezed at the peck underneath it.

“Let me have you, please? Please?” Gojo tried to maintain eye contact as he begged the man he loved to fuck him, but his eyes kept fluttering shut the more he moved. 

“Satoru…” the voice was strained, “what if I–”

Although he was reluctant to, Gojo stopped moving and used all his energy to look at the man below him, wanting him to understand and comprehend the words he was about to say, “You could never hurt me. I’m not just saying that. It’s something I know. My body was made for you, made for this. And I want you, fuck , I want you so bad and I want you to want this. So, if you don’t, I’ll stop, and we can just go to sleep, but don’t stop on my account, because you are perfect for me.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, chests heaving. Eyes moving slightly to track and trace the shape of one another. 

Softly, Geto squeezed the hip under his hand and positioned his cock at Gojo’s entrance, leaving it pressed against the fluttering rim, never taking his eyes off the other man, and then, “I love you, Satoru. I think I’ve loved you since we were kids. I want you. As you are. In any life. However you choose to live, as long as I get to be by your side I’ll be happy.”

Gojo felt his own lip wobble and his heart swell to the point that it felt as if it were choking him. Nodding, Gojo pushed down on the awaiting cock, moaning as that thick cock entered him, filling him up.   

A panting groan came from his Alpha as Gojo lifted his hips and pushed down again and again, placing his hands on Geto’s chest for leverage, until he was all the way seated on his cock. 

Pausing to take a breath, Gojo looked down and felt his walls clench when he saw his stomach bulge slightly at the cock pressed up inside him. When he looked up, he could see Geto’s gaze fixed on the same thing, and he couldn't help asking, “Does it feel good? Inside me?”

Geto could only nod, mind lost to the pressure squeezing his dick, lost at the sight of Gojo’s own weeping cock.

Lost to the way Gojo started fucking back on his cock, bending slightly until the Omega was hitting that spot inside of himself that had him whimpering, had saliva dribbling out of his mouth as he moaned. 

Gojo started babbling as he lost his mind to pleasure, “Fuck, just like that, baby. My Alpha. It’s so good. See how I was fucking made for you? Fuck. More. More. Please, baby.” Gojo moved faster and faster, one hand coming up to pump his cock, feeling delusional with how on edge he was. 

When he started to get close and his movements began to falter, Geto started to pump his hips up to meet each lazy movement, and Gojo had to let go of his cock to cover his mouth because he was moaning and the children were still sleeping and he needed to be quiet but he couldn’t when Geto was fucking him so good . 

“Satoru,” Geto moaned, his breath hitching. “Satoru, are you sure you–” Geto looked like it was hard for him to ask the question as if he was using his last remaining lucid brain cells to ask Gojo if this was still what he wanted.

Gojo’s ass hurt, his legs were trembling, and tears were running down his cheeks, but he also had never wanted anything more.

“I want you, I’ve never been so sure of anything.” Gojo began to firmly press his hips back, and despite his shaking arms and legs, Gojo kept moving, words slurred as he picked up his pace, “I can take it, please, Suguru. I can take it. I can take it. Please, knot me. Fuck. Please.” He already felt so full, so sensitive, on the edge of coming, tears streaming down his face anew, but he wanted– needed more.

Rubbing a thumb against his cheek to wipe away the tears, Geto softly responded, “Okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ll give you what you want.” Setting his feet on the mattress and grabbing Gojo by the hips, Geto finally started fucking Gojo properly, ramming into him with hard quick pumps. At the feel of his cock swelling, at the sight of his Omega begging him for his knot, Geto became lost to his own pleasure; moaning how perfect Gojo was, how he was his Omega, how he’d fill him up. 

Gojo could feel the inflating knot catching at his entrance with every pump and in turn Gojo was preening, whimpering, fisting his own cock– so close that when Geto gave one final pump of his hips and the knot locked in place, Gojo cried out and came on their stomachs, arms collapsing under him. He fell forward onto Geto, who cradled him close, as the Alpha’s hips continued to softly pump upwards as they moaned and then, after a staggering breath, Gojo felt hot cum pouring inside and filling his stomach. 

They were breathing hard, their sweaty bodies sticking to each other. Gojo pressed his face against Geto’s scent glands and took a calming inhale as Geto carefully tried to move them without jostling the knot which was still firmly in place. 

Gojo’s stomach ached and he felt so full he was a bit queasy, and yet he’d never been more relaxed and satiated. The Omega in him was calm and happy. Gojo smiled softly, purring, as Geto rubbed his soon-to-be aching back.

“Are you okay?” Geto tentatively asked.

“Mmm,” Gojo sleepily nuzzled into Geto’s neck, almost leaving it at that, but when he realized he could still feel the coiled tension in Geto’s muscles, he put his thoughts into words, “Yes, more than okay, actually. It was really good. I liked it.”

“You really liked it?” The question held a note of disbelief, as if this was something too good to be true. 

“Mmhmm. A lot. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Gojo reluctantly lifted his head to look down into Geto’s concerned eyes, “It’s going to be a bitch to clean up, and my back’s gonna hurt tomorrow, but I really did like it.” The tension left Geto a little bit and he softly smiled up at Gojo, lifting a hand to brush the hair from where it clung to his sweaty face.

They kissed softly and then held each other, basking in the post-sex glow, waiting for the knot to deflate. Gojo was half asleep when he finally felt Geto pull out, cringing at the onslaught of cum and slick that poured out of him. 

Carefully lifting him up in a princess carry, Geto carried them over to the shower and under the hot spray as Gojo clung to him and tried not to hiss when Geto touched his sensitive hole. As a recompense, Geto kissed him softly through it and Gojo found that he didn’t mind the pain as much when Geto treated him sweetly and carried him everywhere. 

Showered and clean, Gojo was sitting on a chair in the corner of the bedroom, wrapped in a towel, and watching as Geto changed the sheets– wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. 

“You don’t think the kids heard us, do you? I’d hate to have scarred them for life.”

Geto didn’t turn from where he was occupied with making the bed, “With the way you moan like a dying animal, they would be scarred for life.”

A gasp, “Suguru, I do not . Take that back! I moan like a wonton siren or something equally good. Be honest!”

Geto was laughing as he finished fluffing the pillows. When he came over to carry Gojo over to it, he finally responded “Yes, baby, you moan very beautifully.”

“Thank you,” Gojo play-pouted at the sarcastic tone, but he was giddy inside at being teased and held so tenderly.

“And to answer your original question, no, I don’t think they heard us. The girls sleep like the dead, and I don’t know about Megumi but he’s managed to sleep through everything else today so I bet he’s fine.”

Gojo nodded, and lifted his arms when Geto brought a t-shirt over. Geto slipped it on over Gojo’s head and the Omega loved how worn and soft it was, it was clearly something Geto had worn a lot based on how it smells of him. 

Kneeling down, Geto grabbed one of Gojo’s lithe legs and slipped it through the boxer shorts he had been holding open. Then he slipped the other leg in, dropping a kiss on each of Gojo’s knees as he dressed him and Gojo couldn’t help the way his heart throbbed and his chest almost hurt under the adoration of this man. 

Once Gojo was dressed, they slipped under the covers and Geto positioned them so that Gojo’s back was pressed against his chest. Tugging Gojo firmly against him, Geto turned the lights off and tucked his head into the crook of Gojo’s neck, dropping a kiss there, as his hand slipped under the Omega’s t-shirt and caressed his still-swollen stomach. 

Gojo fought with a tender smile, by pressing his face into the arm propping his head up.

“And you? How do you feel?” Gojo’s question was muffled against the bicep but Geto heard it nonetheless. 

“Still a little feverish and tired, but because it wasn’t a real rut, but one triggered by the tense situation, the supplements I took should keep it semi-controlled for now, and… knotting you seems to have helped clear some of my brain fog. I feel a lot more relaxed now.” The hand on Gojo’s stomach flexed at the mention of knotting, as if it could sense the cum inside.

“Mmm,” Gojo hummed, “That’s probably true, since your rut was triggered to protect… your Omega.”

“Mmm, ‘my Omega’ I like the sound of that,” Geto pulled him in closer and Gojo laughed.

“Oh shut up, as if it’s not true. You’re my Alpha after all.”

“Am I?”

“Of course.” Gojo turned so that his face was pressed into Geto’s chest and their legs were intertwined. 

“You’re mine too, Satoru.” Arms twined around shoulders and pulled Gojo closer. They were quiet for a moment, holding each other like that. And when Gojo finally felt sleep start to pull at him, felt himself about to lose consciousness, he heard a whispered, “Good night, Satoru.”

“Night, Suguru.” He mumbled back.

***

Gojo woke up to a foot in his face. Little pudgy toes pressing against his cheek, and somehow his whole body had been pushed to the edge of the bed. Reluctant and still exhausted from how sore his body was, Gojo opened his eyes to, indeed, see a small foot in his face.

When he lifted his head slightly, Gojo could see that the person next to him was not Geto, but an upside down Nanako, and next to her was a sprawled, softly snoring Megumi. Next to him was a peacefully sleeping Mimiko. And all the way on the other side of the bed was Geto, who was quietly sleeping– blessed to be next to their more peaceful child. 

And stretched across the bed, hugging all the children between them, was Gojo and Geto’s hands, clasped in the middle, above Megumi, as they all slept together, as a family.

Gojo didn’t know when the children had come into their room, but he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face, or the soft purr that escaped him at seeing them all together like this. And almost in response, Geto unconsciously squeezed Gojo’s hand. Gojo squeezed back. 

Settling his head back down on the pillow, Gojo closed his eyes, happy and in love with his life.

Chapter Text

Just like every other time it had happened, Geto Suguru was alone. 

Sitting in the dark of the (finally quiet) living room, body already half-molded into his worn couch, he let out a sigh and wordless thanks that tomorrow was Saturday. 

One would think that being the father of three kids wouldn’t be that much more difficult than being the father of two. 

Well, that assumption was incorrect. 

Now, don’t get him wrong, he loved each and every one of his kids. But looking around the space in front of him, at the strewn crayons, overturned school bags and horrifically mutilated Barbies, the math simply wasn’t adding up. This felt like the mess of a hoard of children rather than that of three eight-year-olds.

But he found he couldn’t really be upset, not when just sixty minutes prior he’d watched the girls rope Megumi into playing doctor with their stuffed animals, all three of them with a rather serious expression on their baby faces as they announced to their ‘patient’ that he needed to have head surgery. 

This of course meant Geto had to quickly intervene when he saw Nanako walking with scissors brandished in her hands toward where the other two held the stuffed doll down. 

So yeah, he couldn’t be upset when the mess symbolized his three kids were finally acting like siblings – something that had taken them 17 months to achieve. 

And now, after being in each other's lives for nearly a year and a half – and living together under one roof for the past four months – it was all coming together. 

Gone were the days of hair pulling (Nanako to Megumi) and stuffing food in shoes (Megumi to Mimiko) and arguing over everything from seating arrangements to sleeping arrangements to who got to hold whose hand when they went out. 

It wasn’t perfect, they still argued, but what siblings didn’t? At least that was the mantra Geto repeated when he was cutting gum out of Nanako’s hair for the third time. 

He only wished Gojo was around to see it. 

Not in a dead and dying way. No, just in a physically here way. 

Of course, the other man had witnessed a few things here and there – like the time Nanako offered the last of her favorite chocopie to her siblings – but, lately it felt like Gojo was barely around. 

And maybe it was a little dramatic of Geto to say that, but he hadn’t seen his mate in nearly two weeks because of an ‘urgent’ business trip he’d needed to take to New York City. 

Lately there had been a lot of ‘urgent’ trips.

And, listen, Geto was a reasonable adult and knew it was because Gojo Enterprises was looking to further expand in the North American market and Gojo needed to be there to not only oversee it but ensure his role in the company remained secure for when they finally announced to the world that the prideful heir of Gojo Enterprises, Gojo Satoru, was not only mated, but a mated omega . 

So, yeah, Geto was a reasonable adult who knew it made sense that he stay home in Japan and take care of their kids in the lavish home Gojo bought while he secured his – their – future. 

But sue him, he missed his mate.

And as if the deep yawning fracture of Geto’s longing and adoration for his mate were a beacon, his phone buzzed on the couch next to him. 

When he saw the ID, Geto all but perked up like a goddamn dog. 

> u up?

Followed by another buzz. 

> facetime?

There was a pause as he read the message – as it took a second to process in the exhausted recesses of his mind – but it didn’t last long before Geto was scrambling up from the couch and down the hallway. 

The phone gripped in his hand, Geto forcefully slowed himself down as he reached the girls’ door, creaking it open while trying to turn his already heaving breath shallow to glance inside and confirm both Mimiko and Nanako were asleep in their beds, nothing more than a bundle of fabric. Closing their door, he did the same with Megumi, having to fully push into the room to wrestle the book from the sleeping boy’s hand before shutting off the bedside lamp and heading back out, the door softly clicking behind him. 

And then he was off, dashing up the stairs to the second floor where his and Gojo’s bedroom and office were located. 

It’s barely a moment before Geto has shut the door, turned on the lights and flopped onto the bed. 

Hand digging in his pants to press against his already half-hard cock.

Pulling his flushed skin out and pumping his wrist, Geto quickly opened his phone and one-handedly sent a text.  

yeah. now? <

It’d been almost ten minutes since the original text, but his phone was already vibrating with an incoming call. A sign that Gojo was just as desperate for him as he was for his mate. He took a moment to spit in his hand before pointing the camera toward his now glistening dick, each stroke unveiling the flushed head. 

Like that, Geto answered the phone. 

As soon as the call connected, he let out a deep guttural groan already imagining the sight that would await him. It had been so long since they’d done this, “ Baby– ”

“Two lines mean positive, right?” 

Geto’s hand stopped moving. 

Eyes open from where they’d unconsciously fallen closed and finally glance at the screen in his hand. 

Unlike he’d expected, and unlike the many other times they’d done this, Gojo was not flushed and nude, nor was he teasing his nipples and in some overly intricate piece of lingerie – something he only wore when far from Geto and purposefully used to tease him. 

No. When Geto looked at the video, instead of a writhing pink-toned omega, he was met with the sight of a white marble countertop and a pink pregnancy stick. 

Before he could process it – or even begin to process it – the camera flipped to show just the upper half of Gojo’s face, brows furrowed. “Wait—why are you naked? Are you—are you jacking off without me? ” A shout of disapproval and horror rang in the uncannily quiet room and Geto quickly realized his hand was still grasping his softening dick. 

“Fuck–” He tossed the phone off to the side for a moment, stuffing his cock into his boxers and trying to ignore the burning of his cheeks as he pressed the meat of his palms into both eyes until his vision fizzled out in white.

Somewhere off to the side he heard his name being called, and a whine about how Geto couldn’t even wait until tomorrow when Gojo would be back, and a question of if Geto was ignoring him now. 

Geto’s brain was too busy rebooting itself to offer any reply. 

In his mind’s eye all he could see was pink lines. 

Pink. Pink. Pink. 

What the fuck was going on. Deep down he knew, he hated that he knew, because he wasn’t a child. He was teetering on the edge of thinking Gojo was serious, and also knowing this was very much in line with Gojo’s humor to pull a prank like this just to laugh at Geto’s reaction. 

His mouth felt dry.

The problem was, asking Gojo if he was joking probably wouldn’t be taken too well if he wasn’t . And if he was joking, the omega would probably just buckle down to see how much he could make Geto sweat.

It was a lose-lose for his mental sanity’s sake. 

Taking a deep shaking breath, and knowing he finally had to acknowledge the long, whining way Gojo was currently dragging out his name in an effort to grab his attention, Geto sat up properly against the pillows of his bed and picked up the phone. 

What met him was a cheeky smile, bright blue eyes, and mused white hair. A loosened tie and the background of garish pink tile, told him that Gojo had probably just gotten back to his hotel room and was sitting on the tub’s edge. 

“Are you that horny, Suguru? I didn’t take you for that kind of Alpha–”

“Are you pregnant?” Geto interrupted, immediately killing the teasing atmosphere. A stilled silence echoed between them as Geto waited for a reply. If this was a joke, he’d like to know. And if it wasn’t…

Instead of answering, a look of shock, a simple “oh” and a pink blush covered the other man’s expressions as he looked away from the camera. 

Geto waited. Waited for the answer that he already knew.

He just needed to hear it. 

Maybe Gojo knew that, knew him well enough to know that. 

There were positives in knowing each other since fifteen after all.

Gojo made an attempt to look back at the camera, his gaze darting to and away while his teeth nervously bit at his plush bottom lip. With a small laugh, Gojo asked, “Are you mad?”

And here was another positive aspect of truly knowing your partner: the undercurrent of worry that Gojo tried to push away with bullheaded confidence and laughter was so incredibly obvious to Geto. 

“Am I–? No. I’m…” He didn’t know what he was, so he changed course, “Is that seriously the best way you could think to tell me?”

“Well you know what they say, ripping bandaids off and all that.” Another chuckle. A pause. Gojo’s eyes found his from under white lashes. “So… you’re not mad?” 

An annoyed click of Geto’s tongue was completely overshadowed by the comforting look he offered his mate, “I already said no.”

A small smile of the rarer sort for Gojo, one that was entirely genuine in its hope and not false in any way, lit up his face, “Are you… happy then?”

Geto wanted to ask are you? But he doesn’t need to. Not when he can see it in the flush of his omega’s skin, the nervous bouncing of his body, and the way their eyes keep catching only for Gojo’s to skirt to the side. 

So he already knew Gojo’s answer.

For him? The answer is more complex. 

On one hand, it feels too quick – too easy – to just admit that yes he’s so happy, that the alpha in him is preening at the knowledge that every time he’d knotted and filled his omega was for good reason, that he wants to see this side of Satoru that he’d missed. 

But somewhere in his mind he can’t forget that the last pregnancy in his life hadn’t run so smoothly, had been bred from a place of hatred. 

There was also the fact that they already had three kids – although it wasn’t like they couldn’t afford another with his mate’s trust fund and high-salary career. 

And despite all this…

Geto often prided himself on being the level-headed one in their relationship, but he wasn’t a liar.

“Yeah,” he sighed, feeling the way his own smile split his cheeks, “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“Really?” A reverent whisper as if in disbelief. Blue eyes all but shining with heart-filled happiness, and Geto felt as if he was getting an inside look into the future of how much Gojo would glow when pregnant.  

“Really,” came the response and Geto watched as his mate's entire body relaxed with a weight he hadn’t noticed the other carrying until now. Slipping under the sheets and getting comfortable, Geto let his curiosity get the better of him, “How did you find out?”

The omega in question started moving about, bringing the phone with him as he walked around his hotel suite before slumping into the plush white comforter of the bed, matching Geto’s position. 

“It was the cravings. When I had Megumi all I wanted to eat all the time was spicy food – even food that wasn’t meant to be spicy. Like Tabasco in chocolate cereal.” He laughed at whatever face Geto was making. “So when the past month I found myself eating more spicy food at first I was like eh whatever it’s wintertime, that’s the perfect season for spicy meals, but then these past couple of days I found myself really craving strawberry ice cream with pickled jalapenos and when I almost started crying at the mini-market because they didn’t have pickled jalapenos, I had my a-ha moment and lo and behold…” He held the stick up to the camera, as if Geto didn’t have its image mesmerized. 

Gojo stared at it a little too fondly for something covered in pee.

But there was something to his look, to the soft healthy shine of his skin despite the dark bags that bracketed his eyes from two weeks of nonstop work that had Geto realizing that this was the right decision for them – difficulties to come and all. Because above all, he loved his mate. He loved their current life as it was, but he also knew more than anything he’d love any life they had together. 

Especially a life that had Gojo rambling happily about how he started this morning with a mochi dipped in yellow mustard. 

It was only when the phone in his hand quieted that Geto realized he hadn’t spoken in a while, had just been smiling at his chattering mate. 

The two of them looked at each other, the air between them thick not with anger or argument but a shy unsureness on how to proceed. Where one had been expecting a mutual orgasm, the other had been rearing up for a fight, and yet, here they were. On the same page. 

On the same side. As they should always be. 

“The paparazzi are going to be annoying, probably.” Gojo broke the silence, mouth downturned. The first negative thing that had been said so far. The first check in the ‘con’ box. 

Geto hummed. “Won’t be able to keep it a secret anymore,” he confirmed. 

With a huff and an annoyed groan, Gojo toppled onto his side and into the comforter – white temporarily blocking out half of the camera’s frame. Into the mattress, Gojo muttered, “Yeah.” Rolling onto his back and bringing the phone with him, Gojo repeated, “Yeah.”

A sigh. 

“We couldn’t keep it a secret forever. Honestly, I probably should have said something as soon as we mated but…” Gojo let the rest trail off, leaving Geto to fill in the blank. 

But their life was finally peaceful. 

But they finally had each other. 

But the kids didn’t deserve to be chased by relentless paparazzi. 

But it was easier to stay on the path already trodden. 

But why go looking for trouble. 

“Yeah,” He agreed, pulling the covers up a little higher but careful not to destroy the nest of t-shirts, kids’ hoodies, and blankets that surrounded the edge.

It wasn’t a lie that keeping this baby had one big beautiful pro at the end and a hundred cons. And it would be so easy to turn back now. They were very happy as they were and maybe it was selfish to want more.

“Tell me this is a bad idea.” Gojo finally broke, voice completely different from its bright excited tone just minutes earlier. The words were begging. “I’ve been going back and forth all day since yesterday when I realized I was pregnant. Tell me we shouldn’t do this and it’s just my hormones talking.”

Big blue eyes stared at him. 

It would be easy to say it. To say that they had three messy, adorable, terrors at home. To say that neither of them were ready for the media storm that would come their way. 

It would be easy. 

Geto gave Gojo a sad, small smile that all but tore at his heart. 

“I can’t.” 

And that was the truth. 

Geto couldn’t be the one to say ‘no’ here. God knows he’d never been able to say no to Gojo. But the idea of another little Satoru running around in their home, one that might pout like Megumi or may have his partner’s blue eyes or white hair; of Satoru pregnant and swollen with their pup; of Satoru holding a baby the way he’d probably held Megumi – all of which Geto had missed – was all too good to give up. His heart all but sang for the need to have their family grow. 

Those same blue eyes shined as Gojo responded with what was probably a slightly hormonal and watery, “Really?”

“Yeah, baby. Really.” And it felt like he was signing something irreversible, but rather than any buyer's remorse, the small trembling happiness that had been hesitantly growing within him since this call had started, truly started to bloom. A feeling duplicated on the other side of the screen, hundreds of miles away.

“Okay. Okay! Oh, Suguru, we’re gonna be like one of those American Amish families with a whole litter of pups.” This was paired with a loud laugh that was most definitely paired with a kicking of his legs if the sudden shakiness of the camera was any indication. Then, a sudden gasp, a pause as Gojo looked very seriously into the camera, “Suguru! What if it’s twins?!”

Gojo was smiling brightly. Geto, on the other hand, felt his heart drop into his stomach.

He swallowed. 

“Do… you think it could be–”

Another laugh, “Oh my god, look at you, you’d think I’d told you you were gonna be a father for the first time. Why are you acting like such a virgin , Suguru.”

A frown tugged at his mouth. Because, of course, of course, Satoru would use this as an opportunity to poke fun at him. To make him feel like he was going to have a heart attack in his late twenties. 

“Har-har-har,” Geto scoffed, deadpanned, mimicking Megumi’s expression whenever his mother tried to speak in internet slang. “You’re hilarious, Satoru. I hope our child takes after your incredible humor.”