The Gift That Keeps On Giving (Jujutsu Kaisen, Nanami)

[SnzDreams]

Back again to cross post another fic from tumblr! This one was actually to fulfill a request; they asked for a scenario with fet!Gojo and Nanami. These two have a dynamic that I really adore writing, and I felt like I was able to really indulge in that here. >:) 

Contains: allergy sneezing, character with the fetish, public inducing, suggestive dialogue and interactions (nothing explicit though- I don’t think it’s anything too much for the main boards? Hopefully not, eek!)

Spoilers: None

Pairing: NanaGo

—

It’s with a warm flutter in his chest that Gojo spots him across the restaurant. He’s not hard to pick out from the crowd, of course. Not with his current attire. It’s plain, professional, but that tie is hard to miss; Gojo would know that leopard print anywhere.

Nanami sees him almost simultaneously, as though feeling the other man’s eyes on him. Hard to miss those too, obnoxiously blue and big even from a distance. He raises one hand in acknowledgment, and his stride takes on more urgency.

“What kept you so long? You’re never late.” 

“Traffic.” Nanami leans down, kisses him too briefly for Gojo’s liking. It’s always too brief. Nothing is ever enough, really, for the man’s needy appetite. 

He always wants more of whatever Kento Nanami has to give.

The fashion with which he dips into the chair across from Gojo reads with exhaustion, and the sigh he exhales is much the same. “Leave it to the higher ups to call me out on a mission last minute when we have plans,” Nanami huffs. 

“Well, you can relax. You’re here with me now.” Gojo grins.

Nanami bites back a sarcastic remark. He barely tolerates Gojo at best. Except… that isn’t exactly true anymore. He’s grown unfortunately fond of him, and that almost frustrates him just as much as it pleases.

“I would’ve been on time, if not for the damned traffic,” Nanami huffs. “For all the effort I put in to not go into overtime, something else almost always gets in the way.” Contrast to how tight his voice remains, he loosens his tie, and his shoulders slump down. It’s clear, despite anything indicating otherwise, he is actually relieved to be here now, with Gojo. 

One hand runs through his hair, over and over until it’s subdued to its usual blonde sweep. Gojo fights the urge to reach across and ruffle his perfect styling. He knows Nanami will scold him.

All the more reason to do it. Any attention from that man is good attention. Even his tendency to get irritated with him feeds Gojo’s captivation. His hand twitches, ready to commit…

Then, Nanami stops and his eyes settle on him. So much for that.

No matter though. If things go his way tonight, Gojo will have plenty of chances to rile him up. 

“How was the mission?” he asks instead. His hand slides across the table, prompting Nanami to inch his own close enough for Gojo to touch. “Not bad I hope?”

“The unregistered grade one would’ve been nice to know about.” Nanami’s hand flattens under the other man’s palm, except his thumb, which emerges to brush over the top of Gojo’s in a gentle, stroking motion. Those elegant, long fingers fit perfectly into Nanami’s. Like tree roots, so unlikely and yet born of the earth’s intent.

“Those unregistered curses are popping up a lot lately…It’s getting to be a pain in the ass.”

The edge of Nanami’s lip curls. “Hm, sounds a lot like someone I know.” 

Gojo’s smirk is much less subtle. “Really? Wonder who that could be.”

“Ever looked in a mirror?”

Ooh, he’s gotten good at comebacks. “Nanamiiii, you’re so meannnn,” Gojo whines in exaggeration. “I miss when you used to huff and just tell me to shut up.”

“Shut up, then.” Nanami’s face is flat, but there’s a playful glint in his eyes. It perfectly reflects the one in Gojo’s. Even if one of them won’t admit it, they both enjoy the banter. It’s constant.

There’s a lull that follows, wherein Gojo is happy to bask in Nanami’s attention. Well, for a little while, at least. He’s really waiting for his attention to move somewhere else now that he’s settled in. Don’t make me say it…

As if on cue, Nanami’s eyes break and sweep over the table. Two menus are set aside, seemingly untouched.

“Did you order already?”

“No. I wanted to wait for you.”

Nanami is about to pick up a menu, but he pauses. The vase innocently placed off center is unassuming, or at least it is at first. The longer he observes the tables surrounding them, the more suspicious it becomes. Families and couples of all kinds are seated at tables around them, but there’s a lack of such a centerpiece at every last one. Nanami tilts his head, calm as he settles his attention on Gojo again.

“Interesting that this is the only table with a bouquet in here.”

Gojo smiles. There it is. “Oh, those? I might’ve made a special request~” he says, playing the part of ignorance only half well. The glee on his face is only barely contained.

“A special request, huh?” They lock eyes. The intensity, though unseen, could surely have struck lightning between them, if it were possible. “I wonder why.”

As if he doesn’t know.

“It is my birthday.”

“Tomorrow. It’s your birthday tomorrow,” Nanami corrects.

“Close enough. We’re celebrating tonight, aren’t we?”

Tonight was the best option; Gojo’s students insisted they do something special for him on the evening of, likely an idea of Itadori’s, and neither of them could argue with that. Sentiment for the students is one thing they always agree on. 

“We are,” Nanami confirms. “But it’s your birthday, is it not? I should be the one getting you flowers, shouldn’t I?” Another tilt of his head, suspicious. 

“It’s a gift to myself.” 

How very true. They are a gift to himself, yes, but the flowers aren’t the real gift. They’re just a means to get the real gift.

And Nanami can see right through him.

Some part of him wants to roll his eyes- and he does. He fears though that silky, sweet voice of his is far too much for him to resist. And it’s rude to deny the man a birthday wish when he’s behaving well enough to deserve it, isn’t it? 

…Ugh, how the hell did he get romantically caught up with such a fiend?

Now it’s Gojo tilting his head at him, trying to read him. “I can have them removed, you know,” he says. 

It’s doubtful his words hold any actual concern. It’s all a subject of perversion to him, all of it.

“No. I’m sure it won’t be a problem.” 

“Hm, good. Would hate for them to go to waste.”

“I’m sure you would.”

It’s just more colorful banter, of course. They both know it will be a problem in this vicinity, be they at the center of the table or a little closer to him. 

A little closer certainly doesn’t hurt, though. Gojo casually nudges the vase closer to the center, a few inches over to Nanami’s side of the table. There’s a tremble in his hand he manages to suppress. So giddy, so quickly.

Nanami follows his hand and examines the vase closer. It’s daisies, mostly, and peppered among them are clusters of tiny purple and white flowers. Lavender, no doubt, and the white ones are baby’s breath, if he had to guess. 

“Did you pick these out yourself?” Nanami asks.

“Maybe.” Gojo rests his cheek against his palm. His eyes sparkle above his lenses, flirty. “What makes you say that?”

“Just a hunch.” Nanami’s eyes remain trained on the flowers. Aesthetically, it’s a nice combination, but it doesn’t matter what’s in the vase. Most anything would have the intended effect. Nanami knows this, and he loathes it a little, except for that the knowledge of this happens to hit Gojo’s buttons. Every. Single. Time.

But he’s certain there’s a reason for the combination he chose. It’s not just for looks. No, everything in the vase has a certain something in common: potency. Gojo doesn’t need assurance they’ll hit their mark- they will, but rather that they’ll hit it hard, regardless of how much Nanami will pay.

Leave it to his birthday to make a man extra greedy.

Perhaps greedy of Nanami too though, to so willingly bend to Gojo’s will. Suffer as he might, the free entertainment stretches both ways. Seeing Gojo try not to lose his mind over even the potential for a few sneezes doesn’t get old.

And in the public eye too. Bold.

Said entertainment may be premiering sooner than either of them planned, as Nanami catches himself swiping a knuckle once, then once again under his nose. He clears his throat, hesitantly.

Gojo notices. “Something the matter?” His eyes are hungry, and no longer just for the meal they’d come here for. 

“Fine, thank you.” Except he clears his throat again, which isn’t fine. The itch that settled there feels all too sudden. Perhaps it had been there all along, and only now, after simply acknowledging the reason for it is he unable to deny it. 

The current proximity surely plays a part though. The fragrance, dominated by the lavender’s sweetness, is a touch more invasive to his senses now. And even a touch more is enough. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the nagging in his throat creeps into his sinuses, where it forces him to put on a show for his lover.

As Nanami starts finding the will to distract himself from it, their waitress appears. She greets them before requesting their drink orders.

“A dry martini, please. And a water.” A near transparent layer of congestion clings to Nanami’s voice. He hears it, of course, but so does Gojo, ears fine-tuned to notice even the slightest change in quality.

“A Cinderella, thank you.” Gojo’s usual, when he isn’t drinking.

The waiter nods her confirmation before trotting off. Nanami and Gojo are alone again, with a charge of tension striking back between them. 

“Not even drinking at your birthday dinner?”

“Mm, I’d like to keep my clarity intact tonight,” Gojo says, and he smirks at him. “You know it doesn’t take much, and I’d hate to miss this.”

Smug bastard. It might be for the best though. There’s a chance Nanami won’t be holding together very well by the time they leave, although it has nothing to do with what’s poured in his glass. Unlike Gojo, he can actually handle his booze.

Rather, it’s likely he’ll be losing a certain microscopic-level battle by then. Better he doesn’t have to drag a potentially drunk and stupid Gojo out of here on top of it.

And while Gojo ensures there won’t be any dragging of anyone to be had, he does want to ensure the other part of Nanami’s dread. He wants to ensure it sooner rather than later, too. It’s early in the night, but his impatience rapidly climbs with the typical, tall arch of his desire. He gives Nanami enough time to pull a decision from the menu before he prompts his next move. 

“Nanami,” Gojo says, reaching and plucking a daisy from the vase. He passes it under his nose. “You should really smell them. They’re lovely, you know.”

“Are they?” Nanami says. Gojo’s eyes silently challenge him. In a smooth motion, Nanami pulls the vase towards himself, where the flowers are merely hovering under his chin. 

It’s with a brave lack of hesitation that he ducks down and takes a first, quick inhale. Gojo isn’t wrong- they are lovely, though the lavender overpowers everything else. Nanami opens his eyes, making direct eye contact with him as he inhales through his nose again, but slower, deeper. So intentional.

He relishes in watching Gojo subtly squirm under his gaze from that simple act alone,  pupils visibly dilating over the rims of his glasses. He’s too fucking easy…

Nanami sits back, then, and pushes the vase back to rest. While his appearance feigns stability, those couple breaths dragged enough pollen into his sinuses to seal his fate. A feather light itch seats itself just above the rims of his nostrils. It’s lazy, happy to remain still for a moment before beginning its evil climb. Nanami sniffs, gently, and then again, deliberately enough to scrunch the bridge of his nose. 

The glee is scribbled all over Gojo’s face. Unconsciously, his grip over Nanami’s hand tightens. “Did you take anything today?”

“At this time of year? No.” Well, not usually, anyways. Regardless, drowsiness isn’t worth risking on a solo mission.

“Yeah?” There’s a fluttering in Gojo’s stomach. It takes so little for his composure to trip onto a slippery slope. Just the mere confirmation Nanami had exposed himself without an ounce of defense is enough.

When Nanami sniffs again, it’s stuffy with evidence of swelling nasal passages. His consonants would be crushed under the weight of it when next he spoke, he’s sure.

And both Gojo and Nanami know all too well how the rest will follow. Congestion hits him first, and it’s only a matter of time before the full weight of misery follows suit. Nanami isn’t keen on rushing it along though. Gojo, on the other hand…

He’s staring at him the way a dog might at the door after its owner leaves. Calm and still on the surface, behaved. Underneath though, he’s liable to jump, bark, wag his tail at the first dull thud of feet outside the door. 

But he hasn’t heard that cue, not yet. 

Nanami keeps his hands still, one on the table, the other in his lap, even when his eyes begin to itch and perspire. The only indication of any struggle is the subtle knitting of his eyebrows. Gojo almost doesn’t catch it; the man wears his face with stress so often it’s easy to miss.

His determination to remain stoic cracks and breaks down further and further from there though. It’s his nose that gives him away in the end. Already a prominent feature on his face, it only becomes more striking when it takes on a life of its own. 

Gojo’s enraptured with the way his nostrils pulse open in an erratic pattern, a shiver seeming to run down the bridge. “Doing okay? You look…itchy,” Gojo purrs. 

The power of suggestion threatens to break him, but Nanami shakes his head dismissively. His silence speaks volumes to how he actually feels, however. It’s taking all his concentration just to think straight. Nanami turns away from Gojo, blinking mist from his eyes. A tight breath parts his lips, but nothing more.

“Cat got your tongue?” Gojo’s eyes gleam vexatiously above his lenses.  

“…I’m fine.” Nanami’s voice is strained. He’s fighting, and he’s fighting hard. If Gojo could just get him to keep talking… 

The opportunity ends up walking right up to him in the form of their waitress. She sets their drinks on the table. Gojo thanks her, and Nanami can only nod and offer a watery smile. 

Oh, you’re so screwed, Nanami.

“Are we ready to order?” the waitress cheerfully asks.

“I think so. Nanami, why don’t you go first?” 

Nanami's expression remains civil, but Gojo feels the frustration burning from his eyes across the table. He knows exactly what he’s up to.

Nanami clears his throat in a last ditch attempt to dissuade the urge trying to claim him. “I’llhhH…!” His attempt to speak dissolves almost immediately, and he twists away from the waitress. Gojo’s heart skips a beat.

His napkin is still neatly wrapped around a set of silverware, so he opts for his inner elbow instead. “Nh-GTCH’iew-! hH-NGTchH’iew-!” The sneezes fall back to back, impressively stifled from his usual volume. But it’s unsatisfying. Nanami bites his tongue to chase away another sneeze, or maybe more. More that would’ve felt so good, damn it. The sigh that follows is erotically uncertain, and Gojo bites his lip.

“Oh, bless you!”

Gojo envies the waitress’s ease in so casually uttering that phrase, but only briefly. He’s easily distracted by the dusting of pink visible on Nanami’s features upon emerging. “Pardon me,” he says, quietly. He delivers Gojo a healthy dose of side eye before he remembers what he’s supposed to be doing.

“Right, sorry. I’ll have the tenderloin plate. Medium rare, please.” Gojo doesn’t even register his choice of sides and salad. He’s too focused on how deliciously congested the man sounds to register any words.

When the waitress trains her attention on Gojo, Nanami takes the opportunity to paw at his nose and sniff. And then sniff again. Maybe once more will bring some relief? But the dull buzzing just sticks. It’s fruitless.

“Actually, that all sounded wonderful,” Gojo chimes. As far as she knows, he’s referring to his meal choices, but with the eye contact he maintains with Nanami, he’s clearly complimenting something else. “I’ll take what he’s having. Exactly the same, yes. Thank you~”

Off their waitress goes again, unaware the situation before her lacks innocence.

Nanami quickly unfurled the napkin withholding the set of silverware on the table. He stole his other hand back from Gojo, tenting the fabric over the lower part of his face and rubbing indulgently at his nose. “I’m starting to think you wanted to go here just to torture me.” he comments from within the fabric, voice muffled.

“What makes you say that?” Nanami’s nose is a deep shade of pink when his hands fall away. His nostrils are damp and irritated at the edges, visible even from across the table. Lovely. 

“You clearly never even looked at the menu.”

“As far as you know. You just have good taste, really.” Gojo talks in a tone that could only convince the most gullible of people. 

And Nanami isn’t gullible. Not at all. His stupidly gorgeous partner is full of shit, as usual.

Nanami dismisses him with another eye roll, knowing it’s not worth arguing with him. That’s when he feels something under the table brush his ankle, and then brush it again, more intentionally. His eyes narrow. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The tip of Gojo’s shoe catches the hem of his pant leg. His eyes, half lidded, are full of a blue fire, even more brilliant than their usual shine. And he can’t hide it. Without that blindfold, his excitement has never been more obvious.

Although… even if his eyes were concealed, what he’s pulling under their table spells his mood out plainly enough. 

Nanami bumps his own shoe back against Gojo’s ankle. It’s halfhearted, yet still draws a grin from the other man. 

“Pace yourself. We'll end up having to get out of here before our food arrives, at this rate,” Nanami warns. 

“Oh, I have no plans to leave any time soon. Unless you can’t hold out?” Gojo catches the top of Nanami’s shoe under his own, pressing down hard enough to pinch.

“I’ll manage, thank you-” Nanami wriggles his foot away with little effort, and he lightly kicks Gojo’s leg back, lest he decides to go too far.

He takes his success in wrangling Gojo’s neediness down to finally tend to his drink. The martini glass is filled with clear and icy liquid, and garnished with a strip of lemon peel, elegantly curled. It’s fiery in his throat and chest, a burn far more pleasant than the one still crawling through his sinuses. 

Speaking of that…

Nanami unsteadily sets the glass back down on the table. “hh-hdh…!”  The tickle crests, and his expression wavers. In the middle of sipping his own drink, amber and intoxicatingly sweet in contrast, Gojo lowers it to tune in.

His shoulders jar violently when the first one comes, followed by another he smothers into his napkin. “nh’gtCHh’iiew-! hHMFpf’SChh-! Hh…!” His head tilts a little higher, chest swells a little larger… ”ehH’GTSHh’ieyh-!”

Gojo’s insides melt, and then jolt excitedly on the third one. Could it be that they’re already proving difficult to contain?

They sound wet too, and the inner fold of the napkin confirms it, with dark, damp spots visible in the fabric when he unfurls it. Gojo is graced with only a brief glance of the evidence before it’s tucked away back in his lap. Silently, Nanami thanks fate for the heavier fabric. A plain paper napkin would surely not have survived.

And he’s far from done, worst of all.

Lucky, lucky Gojo.

He’s lucky too, that Nanami has shed his earlier determination to play it off. His misery is obvious now, and Gojo is free to drink in every bit of it. Much like his beverage, the taste is sweeter than sweet. 

With one hand, Nanami’s fingertips trace over his eyelids, and his lashes, stealing away the unshed moisture clinging so stubbornly to his water line. And then goes down, knuckling at his septum. His touch is careful and light, carrying worry that the wrong type of pressure may set him off again sooner than he’d prefer.

The desire to reach out and replace Nanami’s touch tingles in Gojo’s fingertips. He wouldn’t be so careful with that nose of his. 

Shame they’re in public, otherwise Nanami might actually allow him the chance…

As he quietly relishes in his fantasies, Nanami manages to pull himself together to some small degree. It’s only a moment later that two fresh salads are plated before them, already coated with light, citrus dressing. At the center of their table, a basket with warm bread and butter is placed. 

Gojo can’t hide the amusement on his face seeing Nanami go for the bread as soon as their waitress departed. For a man that could be difficult to read, some of his quirks are far too predictable. Of course he goes right for it; it’s his favorite form of carbohydrate, and thus the perfect distraction from his plight.

As he swallows a bite, Nanami catches Gojo’s eye.  

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. Just you,” Gojo says.

Nanami just frowns at him. If he says something, it’ll only invite Gojo to tease him further.

Neither of them speak again until they’ve both had a moment to make progress. Gojo is reaffirmed in his decision to come here; it’s better than he remembered, and they both manage to lose themselves in the food.

It’s only when his plate is clean that Gojo talks again. “Hey, thanks for taking me out, Nanami.” His tone is genuine, sober compared to before they’d been served.

Nanami pauses to swallow before he speaks. “I’m happy to.” He wipes at his mouth with the corner of the napkin, which is then swapped for his drink. He tilts it towards Gojo in a toasting fashion. 

Gojo picks up his own glass and taps the rim to Nanami’s with a sharp clink. “Cheers.”

“Happy BirthhH-Hh…!” His expression crumples suddenly, violently. So does Gojo’s subdued mood. In one swift, haphazard move, Nanami sets his glass down without managing to spill, and replaces it with the napkin off his lap. One hand squeezes over his nose, and the other over Gojo’s hand to steady himself.

Fuck. Gojo feels fire run up the nerves of his arm from Nanami’s touch. It races to his chest, forcing a shuddering exhale from his lips, not unlike the one Nanami gasps through before he succumbs.

“hiH’NGxtT’shiew…! Ah…!” The suppressed force feels heavy, uncomfortable in his chest. Nanami hovers the fabric under his nose in expectation, brows pinching tighter into a desperate arch. The next one would not be stifled, and he knew better than to try, relaxing his grip. “hH’NGSSHHh’iew…! Birthday…” he finishes pathetically.

“Happy Birthday, indeed.”

Each sneeze is deliciously itchy in quality, especially so when breaking free of Nanami’s control. His composure seems to be slipping away almost as quickly as Gojo’s now. A shame for him, if actually had the capacity for anything remotely close to sympathy. 

The sniffle that chases the sneeze is a futile squeak. “Ugh…” His sinuses are so swollen they nearly ache, and yet, he swears he can still smell that fucking lavender…

Gojo shifts in his seat. He really needs to try not to savor this too much, or else they will have a problem by the time they leave. 

But how can he not? It’s an entire, luxury meal for his eyes, and they aren’t even on the main course yet. 

He wonders how long it will be before he sneezes again.

Answer: not long. Long enough to have their plates taken, drinks refreshed. But not long enough for Nanami, who wanted to catch a break, and too long for Gojo, ever the impatient and watchful.

His eyes are faintly red, watery, and he pinches the bridge of his sizable nose. The prickle lingering in his sinuses only rises higher, buzzing. Nanami fights not to breathe, only faintly aware of Gojo’s foot poking at his own under the table again.

“Nanami…”

He knows Gojo isn’t saying his name to prompt him, not in that tone. There’s a floatiness to his voice that only ever serves to egg him on. It’s just to remind him that his attention remains fixed on Nanami as he finally-

“hH’DZSCHHh’yh-! hH’TSCHHhh-!”

And they’re getting away from him. 

“hH…! hAH’EHSCHHhheh-!”

Make that really getting away from him.

He can see and feel several pairs of eyes on him, and he can’t blame them. The volume practically demands attention, whether Nanami wants it or not. The low buzz of conversation around them doesn’t swing in volume, thankfully. He can’t imagine how exposed anything closer to silence would leave him.

The attention on him quickly dissolves, with the exception of one person. Gojo is still staring, of course he is.

“Fuck, Nanami,” The words fall from his lips like silk in a hushed tone, silver and shiny. “Done holding back?”

“I can’t,” Nanami says, honestly. 

“Skill issue.”

“Oh, shih-! Shuddup, hH…!” His vocal annoyance is crushed under the certainty of another disruption. So certain, and yet he fights it back until it isn’t, nose pinched tightly, breath frozen in his lungs. Safe for now, but it’s sure to return and haunt him, eventually.

He hears Gojo curse under his breath another time. He looks ready to jump Nanami right then and there. And he worries he just might, by the way his foot has climbed up his leg. It rests at his thigh, rubbing over the seam close to his knee.

Damn his long legs.

Nanami shoots him a look across the table. “Down, boy.”

“Hm, you gonna put me on a leash too?” Gojo dares to say. His foot continues its prodding, careful to avoid jostling the table cloth which serves as the only thing concealing the act.

“Maybe I should.” Nanami is only half kidding. Gojo is insatiable.

Nanami fails again to properly sniffle behind the fist hesitantly curled and hovering near his nose. His eyes are squinted, distant. What he initially held off is rearing its head, far sooner than he hoped. Damn his allergies.

He ducks down behind that fist, aiming towards his elbow. “nH’GNXCh’iew-! hiH…!” Trying to suppress one only strengthens the next, evident by the deeper gasp that follows. 

Gojo slouches in his chair, stretching his leg to touch him but not quite reaching. Such a shame. He wonders if he would be able to feel his abs clench through the rubber under his foot, if he could reach his waist. 

“hiH’DZSCHH’ih-!”

Ah, but Nanami’s legs definitely clench, thighs tensing and grabbing at his ankle with another wrenching sneeze.

“heH…! hH’RSCHHEUHh-!”

And no wonder. These are as forceful as they get. There’s more eyes on their table, and Gojo finds himself blushing under the weight of it. This is surely mortifying for his other half, knowing him.

Nanami’s a mess when he lifts his head, eyes streaming. He fluidly tucks his face back into the napkin, fidgeting until he feels he might look semi presentable. If not for the redness of his nose, eyes- his whole face, really- he might actually pass.

Under the table, Gojo’s toying recedes. The vase does too, he’s surprised to see. Gojo tugs it close to himself, pushes it to the side.

“Wow, taking mercy on me?”

Oh, he’s beyond congested…

“Maybe. Although it’s not so much for your sake.” Gojo leans in like it’s some kind of secret. “You’re a little loud, you know.”

“Don’t remind me.” 

Gojo idly stirs his drink. “I figure you should at least enjoy your meal uninterrupted though, too.”

Nanami’s glare on him softens, and then shifts down to the flowers, now at a safer distance. It’s a kind gesture, but…

It’s far too sudden. Such mercy from a man as ravenous as Gojo- especially on an occasion where he can so easily get away with it- always comes with a price. 

“What’s the catch?”

The straw continues its stirring motion, ice cubes clinking against each other. There’s a glint in Gojo’s eyes as he tilts his head.  “I’ll be taking them home, where you’ll be spending the night as we planned,” he says.

“And you’ll be keeping them in the bedroom.”

“Until I’m satisfied, yeah.”

No surprise.

“And I suppose I have no choice in the matter?”

Gojo briefly feigns consideration. “Mmm…nope. Birthday privilege.”

No surprise, again. 

But Nanami is willing, if only to see Gojo unravel to the furthest extent. 

Apparently also pondering his future plans, and proving Nanami’s intuition right, Gojo’s foot is back at it again almost as soon as it receded. “Hm, maybe I’ll even skip dessert just to get us out of here.” His sweet tooth tendencies immediately rebel. “Or maybe I’ll take it to go,” he corrects. 

Nanami rolls his eyes. “You’re the strongest sorcerer alive, and yet you wouldn’t know impulse control if it hit you in the jaw.”

“What’s that? Can’t hear you over all that congestion.” Gojo smirks.

“Tch…” Nanami’s nostrils flare in frustration. And then they flare a little differently, urgently, as his brow knits.

Nanami grits his teeth, tongue to the roof of his mouth. “hH…! hH’ngtt’SHEUHh…!” Still too loud.

“Did moving them away not even help?”

“It can only help so much at this point.” Nanami pinches between his eyes again. “It’s gonna be a long night.”

Gojo can only smile. “All according to plan.” He takes a long sip of his drink, and sighs. “You really are the perfect gift, Nanami.”

[Lupe]

RAH. I LOVED THIS

You write them so well 😍

I love it!! 

[SnzDreams]

14 minutes ago, Lupe said:

RAH. I LOVED THIS

You write them so well 😍

I love it!! 

AH thank you so much! 🥹❤️ They are so fun to write! I’m a sucker for the ‘guy who is easily annoyed X guy who is always annoying’ ship dynamic 😂

[Lupe]

3 minutes ago, SnzDreams said:

AH thank you so much! 🥹❤️ They are so fun to write! I’m a sucker for the ‘guy who is easily annoyed X guy who is always annoying’ ship dynamic 😂

Yes that pair 

I love that ship