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Snowflakes, the soft, fluffy kind, kiss the windshield. They don’t last long against the warm glass before they liquify and disappear. Then, they’re replaced by more dreamy white and the process starts all over.
It’s barely 5 o’clock but streetlights already illuminate the road, tossing halos across the quickly darkening sky. It’s the days right after the holidays where the world is still stuck in a strange freeze frame, everyone scrambling to remember how to go back to real life.
Even for someone like Gojo, whose life is quite literally the definition of unconventional, it’s incredibly easy to get swept up and lost this time of year. The lights mingled with the pervasive smell of hot chocolate and pine needles do something to his brain—even if he did spend Christmas Day with the 1st years clearing an old rec building of cursed spirits. Granted, he’d let the kiddos do most of the work, but he was still there. Well, down the road, enjoying a cup of eggnog. They had it handled.
He glances over to the driver’s seat, looking at another possible source of Gojo’s levity as of late. Nanami steers the car, both hands on the wheel at 8 and 4 o’clock, arms covered in a soft gray sweater. It was a very nice gift from Megumi. Thoughtful little brat.
Gojo, as is his specialty, breaks the silence in the vehicle as they approach their destination.
"I-I've never done something like this before." Light pink dances along the tops of Gojo's cheeks. Eyes pointed downwards, he nibbles at the tip of his forefinger, meek and demure, almost shy.
Nanami puts the car into park, turns his shoulders so he's facing Gojo.
"We're at the grocery store, Satoru. I'm out of milk."
Gojo sighs dramatically, dropping both the cute act and his hands. They plop into his lap. “Can’t you just play along for once?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Nanami says, handing Gojo the hat that he left in his car before looping a scarf around his own neck.
Gojo, pouting entirely too much for a man his age, shoves the beanie over his ears. Sure, he was laying the sweetness on a bit thick, but this really is a first time for him. He can’t think of any other period in his life where someone brought him along on an errand as mundane as grocery shopping. As if picking up household essentials is too domestic for the world’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer.
Well, that does sound a bit ridiculous.
It’s embarrassing, truthfully, thinking back on how he’d woken up with his chest pressed to Nanami’s back and his leg slung over his hips. Nanami had rolled over in his arms to face him, pressed a close mouthed kiss to his lips and asked if he’d like to run to the store with him later to pick up some things he needed around the house.
Nanami, warm like a fleshy 6 foot furnace, wanted to bring him along on a grocery trip? His heart had nearly burst out of his chest. Not to mention what the offer had done to his ego. Everytime Nanami sprinkles a few breadcrumb hints at how much he actually enjoys taking up Gojo’s time, Gojo admittedly becomes all the more insufferable.
He can’t very well help it. He’s never had anything like this before. Never thought he could possibly hold on to something like this.
They don’t spend too much time labeling what they have, spending the fickle resource on other things such as each other’s company. Gojo suspects it has something to do with the nature of their work. It’s hard to name things that can be lost at a moment’s notice. So, they take what they have for what it is and enjoy it.
Nanami steps out of the car, his presence replaced by a flurry of frigid air and snow. Gojo follows him out, his feet sloshing in the damp mook covering the parking lot. The car beeps when Nanami locks it and Gojo tails him inside the store. The almost violent blast of heat under the automatic doors is heavenly as Gojo stomps his boots on the entry mat.
Nanami grabs a cart and wheels them off to the produce section. Gojo is swept up in bright greens and reds and the way strong hands hold them, checking for ripeness before slipping them into clear cellophane bags.
His ears ring and his fingertips buzz when Nanami lifts a kiwi to Gojo’s nose to smell. It’s citrusy and light, bordering on sweet and Gojo just nods, approving Nanami’s choice. No words are exchanged, the fruits are simply placed in a bag and set in the cart.
Nanami continues to flit around the produce before moving over to grab other everyday items. Next to the vegetables and kiwis in the cart lie a quart of milk and a carton of eggs. Nanami continues to wheel them through the store. Unsurprisingly, he’s an efficient shopper, not lingering too long in any one aisle. He reaches for the items he needs and doesn’t spend ages browsing or comparing prices.
It’s kind of hot.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Nanami says, placing a box of penne noodles in the cart. Gojo eyes the selection, hoping it means he’ll be eating one of his favorite pasta dishes that Nanami makes tonight.
“Awfully?” Gojo flips his body so he’s walking backwards and looking Nanami in the eyes as they stroll between shelves of canned goods. “I figured you’d say gloriously.”
Nanami’s eyes flick to the both practical and expensive watch strapped to his wrist. “Considering you’ve said less than 5 words in the past 15 minutes, I should say suspiciously.”
Gojo, still walking backwards, knocks into a cardboard end cap advertising discount Christmas snack cakes before he can respond. Luckily none of the boxes of frosted Christmas trees hit the ground, but Nanami rolls his eyes nonetheless. “This is why humans were designed with their feet facing forward.”
“You just want to oogle my ass.”
“My apologies for not wanting to watch you plow into every end cap in the store.”
To Gojo’s surprise, Nanami turns down the sweets and snacks aisle. With as much time as Gojo spends at Nanami’s place, he’s come to know the man’s diet and the lack of sugary things within it. Sometimes, if Gojo’s desperate and scrounges deep enough, he can uncover a box of fig newton bars but that's about it.
Curious, Gojo follows, facing forward this time as Nanami grabs a box of horrendously sweet and delicious oatmeal cream pies. Gojo’s eyebrows twitch upwards. “You like those?”
“No,” Nanami says, placing them in the cart. “I thought you did?”
Gojo blinks dumbly a few times. “I do. It’s just—”
Nanami stares at him quizzically. “You don’t want them?” He leans over the edge of the cart to pick them up but Gojo halts his motion with a hand on his sleeve.
“I want them.” He says. He feels himself blushing. Why is he blushing? Over fucking oatmeal cream pies.
He releases Nanami’s sleeve and walks ahead of him. It takes a second, but eventually he hears the squeak of the shopping cart wheels as Nanami follows behind him.
Selecting the groceries together already filled Gojo’s stomach with an unsettling amount of butterflies. Carrying the bags into Nanami’s home has them threatening to beat their way out of his throat. Gojo sets the reusable grocery totes (of course Nanami is eco-conscious even in their curse riddled world) on the counter.
Nanami sets to the task of unloading the items and organizing them all in their place. Feeling a bit floaty still from the whole shared experience, Gojo even helps. If Nanami thinks it strange, he doesn’t comment.
Feeling around at the bottom of the last bag, Gojo pulls out the snack cakes that left him a fumbling idiot in the store. He sucks his top lip into his mouth and bites down hard to keep from beaming.
They’re fucking oatmeal cream pies.
He sets them in the pantry and slings the door shut so he doesn’t have to look at them lest he burst into song over the damned things.
Leaving Nanami in the kitchen, Gojo pads into the living room, putting on the tv for the noise and answering a mildly concerning text from Itadori about some trouble he and Nobara managed to stumble upon and drag Megumi into with them.
Several hours have passed and the moon hangs high in the sky, concealed by a curtain of clouds and flurry of snowfall. Gojo sits on Nanami’s couch, a respectful distance from the other man, patting his stomach. Turns out, Nanami had been planning on cooking Gojo’s favorite dish and he had happily consumed two servings of it.
Lounging with his legs crossed and a book in his lap, Nanami blows at a steaming mug of night time tea before taking a sip. Gojo watches his throat bob. Nanami catches his stare but doesn’t return it. Eyes still on yellowed pages, Nanami says, “I enjoyed our outing today.”
He says it so casually, voice still warm with a good meal and good company. Gojo finds himself nodding. “Me too, Nanami.”
Perhaps it’s the seriousness in his voice, or maybe it’s the way Gojo’s eyes haven’t left Nanami since dinner. Regardless of the cause, Nanami is closing his book, placing a worn bookmark neatly between the pages and standing. “Will you allow me to take you to bed?” Nanami asks.
Gojo also finds himself on his feet, trailing after Nanami down the hall. As soon as they’re within the walls of their, no, Nanami’s room, their parted lips find each other. Nanami kisses him with slow, thorough intent. He’s eager but not rushed, pulling satisfied sighs out of Gojo with his tongue.
Every soft, sticky feeling he’d had at the market is pulled to the surface of Gojo’s skin. He hopes Nanami can taste it as he mouths his way along Gojo’s jaw and neck. “Shit,” he whispers hotly.
Nanami kisses the expletive off his mouth. Gojo runs his hands up and down the front of the cable knit pattern on his sweater. The fabric is thick, but Gojo can still feel the firm lines of Nanami beneath it. The back of his neck and the tips of his ears are positively aflame.
“What’s gotten into you?” Nanami whispers teasingly.
Gojo has pulled himself free from Nanami’s kisses now, running his mouth over the collar of the Nanami’s sweater where his collarbones hide under wool. “Fucking oatmeal cream pies, apparently,” he grumbles.
“What?” Nanami asks, leaning back so he can look Gojo in his face.
He waves him off. “Nothing. Just undress me, Kento.”
Nanami has learned he’s better off not questioning Gojo, especially not when he’s like this. So, he simply does as he’s told—baring Gojo to his touch layer by layer.
Gojo is completely nude before even a sock has been stripped of Nanami. Usually, Gojo takes a sense of pleasure in the disparity. His mouth has gone dry on several occasions when Nanami has been so desperate to fuck him that all he can do is pull his cock free from his slacks. Not now though. Right now, Gojo needs Nanami naked. He needs to feel the press of their skin together until their bodies feel seamless.
He whispers as much into Nanami’s neck after licking at the indents of his teeth there.
“Alright,” Nanami responds. He’s so agreeable it makes Gojo’s teeth ache.
By the time Nanami is fully unclothed, Gojo is already hard with not a lick of shame in his entire body about it. He nudges Nanami’s chest until he’s seated on the edge of their (Nanami’s) bed.
He’s sinking to his knees as soon as Nanami’s ass hits the astronomically expensive bed sheets. He knows he’s a mess but doesn’t care when he literally whines at the heaviness of Nanami on his tongue. He’s heady and warm and Gojo gets lost in the rhythm of pleasuring him.
He’s sucking just how he knows Nanami likes and all the while Nanami is stroking his hair and cheeks, even running his fingers over the thin skin protecting his closed eyes. “So good, Satoru,” he says, shuddering. Gojo grips at the meat of his thighs just to feel the trembling under his own palms.
When he starts to bob a little too enthusiastically and Nanami’s thighs start to clench tellingly, he gently lifts Gojo’s chin up. He keeps pulling him until he’s on his feet and their lips are touching. Gojo gets lost in the kiss for a moment, letting Nanami sample the remnants of him on his tongue.
“Don’t want this to end before I’m inside you,” he explains.
Gojo just nods enthusiastically because the only thing better than Nanami finding his release down his throat is Nanami finding his release inside him.
“Touché.”
Nanami has opening Gojo up just about down to an art. He’s got Gojo on his back now, legs spread wide for Nanami. Nanami lays on his stomach between Gojo’s spread thighs, three fingers inside him, finding that spot within him without having to search. Gojo is panting heavily, hands fisting in the sheets whilst Nanami leaves angry red marks on his inner thighs with his teeth.
“Come on, come on.” Gojo says. “Fuck me.” His hands are shaking with it. “I want it. I want you. I need to feel you.”
He’s babbling. Nanami hushes him, not impatiently, but tenderly. Comforting. He’s got him. He’s going to take care of him.
He confirms what Gojo already knows with words. “I’ve got you.”
It only takes long enough for Nanami to smooth some lube over his cock before he’s nudging against Gojo’s entrance. The initial push is slow, but before Gojo can start mindlessly begging, he’s buried deep within him. Gojo sighs when he feels Nanami’s balls slap against his ass.
Nanami’s hips are stationary for a second, knowing how drunk Gojo gets off the stretch alone. Gojo’s convinced this man knows everything about him. The good and the bad and what little lies in between. Gojo nibbles at Nanami’s ear, his arms clasped around his neck. “Deeper, please.”
Nanami shifts and somehow manages the impossible. His thrusts are slow and shallow, rotating his hips just right to have Gojo keening. They’re so close, every morsel of Gojo pressed against Nanami. It’s perfect.
The push and pull has even quiet Nanami groaning into Gojo’s shoulder. He loves the wet heat of Nanami’s shaky breaths against his ear.
“So good. You’re driving me insane.” Nanami continues to roll his hips and Gojo wouldn’t shut up even if he wanted to. “Are you going to cum inside me?”
“Want me to?” Is the response he gets.
“Fuck, yes. I wanna feel it.”
The hand that snakes between them to grip his dribbling cock, lets Gojo know just how close Nanami is. Nanami pumps him in perfect tandem with the motion of his hips and Gojo is arching his spine. All it does is bring them closer, making the friction that much more intense.
He’s thrust over the edge, clinging to Nanami and biting the back of his own hand. It does little to muffle the sounds wrenched from his chest. Nanami releases his spent dick and instead pulls his hand from his teeth. He presses his lips to Gojo’s palm and fuck he could actually cry.
A few more stunted thrusts and Nanami is following Gojo into that white hot sea of stars. He grunts his name and Gojo runs his free hand through Nanami’s hair. The warmth of Nanami’s orgasm has Gojo’s eyes fluttering shut, sated and content.
A trail of white trickles out of him and he smiles like a fool. Nanami kisses him sweetly and then pulls away far enough to watch the pooling of his own mess between Gojo’s legs.
“Safe to say I won’t be going to the market without you anymore?” He says smugly, voice hoarse with the after effects of his pleasure.
Gojo musters enough energy to turn his head. “You said it, not me.”
Nanami scoffs but holds him close all the same.