Satoru Gojo was always in control—whether it was his incredible cursed energy, his blinding Six Eyes, or his sharp wit. But today, none of that seemed to matter. When you arrived at his place, summoned by a cryptic text, you sensed something was wrong the moment you stepped inside.

The air was dense, heavy with warmth, and something else—sweet and cloying, creeping into your lungs and settling under your skin. The scent was unmistakable. Gojo had gone into heat.

You found him curled in a nest of blankets and pillows, his usual cocky demeanor replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. His snowy white hair clung to his damp skin, and his eyes, normally sharp and confident, were hazy, flickering with a need that he rarely ever let show. He looked up at you with a weak smile, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey… I forgot the suppressants.”

The sweetness in the air thickened as he spoke, and you could feel it. The way it settled over your skin, seeped into your veins, and muddled your thoughts. His scent wasn’t just in the room—it was everywhere, pulling at something deep within you, something primal. Every breath you took filled your lungs with that overwhelming sweetness, clouding your mind. Your pulse quickened as the warmth started to spread through you, making it harder to focus on anything other than him, the way his need seemed to fill every corner of the space.

“I… I need you close,” he murmured, his voice low and breathy, sending a shiver down your spine.

The heat radiating from him seeped into the air, making it hard to think straight. Your body reacted instinctively, your mind clouding with the overwhelming urge to move closer, to comfort him, to give him what he needed. Satoru was your friend—your Omega friend who trusted you. The logical part of your brain was screaming at you to step back, that being near him like this was a bad idea, but the Alpha inside you wanted nothing more than to be close, to ease the gnawing ache of his heat.